Post by The Future Elements on May 6, 2016 23:40:24 GMT -5
[Scene: Fleetwood, PA; more specifically, the Charles Residence. It's about 8 in the morning on an overcast Monday... though they were involved in a war the night before, The Polar Phantasm and Cornelius Casanova sit at the kitchen table having breakfast and looking none the worse for wear. Cornelius is eating some fruit, chowing down on an apple... he flips lazily through the sports section as he chews around the core of the tree fruit. Polar's having a bowl of Frosted Flakes (they're grrreat) while reading the cereal box (as you do). Polar shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, and as he does so his gaze drifts off... more correctly to say his mind drifts off. A few moments pass; as he finishes chewing a hunk of apple, Cornelius swallows and asks a question.]
Casanova: What're you thinking about?
Phantasm: Wondering what Frank's doing.
Casanova: Shit, at this hour? His ass is sleeping, wherever he is. Or he ain't gone to bed yet, one... what you worried for, he's a grown ass man.
Phantasm: I'm just worried he might've gotten into something he can't easily get out of. You know how tricky Richards is-
Casanova: Mmhmm.
Phantasm: I just want to... ugh, I'm gonna make a call. Excuse me a sec, would you?
Casanova: G'head, brah.
[Polar heads into the living room; he checks the time, shrugging for no one's benefit before dialing a number on his wrist-terminal and making a call to New Orleans.]
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[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, the home of Lucien Hicks. This shotgun house, known to the post office as 439 S. Murat Street, is also offices of the Ouroboros Detective Agency; the living room is done up like a small office and waiting room, complete with comfortable-looking burgundy sofa. The sofa is occupied when we first arrive on scene, but the phone rings shortly thereafter... disturbing a sleeping Lucien, who rolls off the sofa onto the floor before digging in his pocket and answering the phone.]
Hicks: Hello?
Phantasm: Lucien! Sorry to wake you up, man-
[Lucien recoils in surprise and frustration at the voice of the Phantasm coming through his phone. He reaches over onto his desk, picking up a small plastic baggie and a glass pipe about as thick as an axe handle.]
Hicks: No you're not. What's up, Cam? You usually just show up at my house unannounced. Do I actually have time to take a shit and get dressed this time? Wow.
Phantasm: Nice to hear you're still your usual glib self, man. Listen, Frank Venable's down there right now-
[Lucien shakes his head as he crumbles a few green buds into his pipe.]
Hicks: -of course! Of fucking course he is. One of you has to be around to make sure my life doesn't get boring or, you know, sane in any way. How is Frank, anyhow?
[Lucien lights his breakfast while on the phone.]
Phantasm: I don't know, actually. You haven't seen him, then?
Hicks (coughing): Not in years, actually-
Phantasm: Well, would you make a point of it?
[Lucien pauses for a moment, both in an attempt to settle his morning smoker's cough and in an attempt to sum up what the Phantasm is asking him to do.]
Hicks: Well, it's do-able. You hiring me to find Frank Venable? Is that what's up?
Phantasm: Sure, call it what you want. But find him, and tell him we're coming to visit.
Hicks: Who's we? You bringing the missus? Ask if she's down to help out on a few cases. We actually got shit done when Crystal was working with us, mostly because we're all scared of her.
Phantasm: Completely understandable. Nah, she's back in Vegas, busy raising our son while I try to save professional wrestling. You know how we do-
Hicks: Ah, back to that already. Alright, I'll find Frank for you; unless he's hiding, it'll be a piece of cake. Besides, he sticks out like a sore thumb even in the French Quarter... at least he used to when he had the permanent spiky bed-head thing going on. When are y'all coming?
Phantasm: As soon as Orbit's jet is ready to fly... and once I find Steve and Jeff and tell them we're going to New Orleans.
Hicks: Of course.
Phantasm: Of course.
Hicks: See ya in the world, Cam.
[The line goes dead before the Phantasm can respond; he just chuckles, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: It's gonna be a weird fuckin' day. I'm callin' it early.
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From the files of Lucien Hicks, Renegade Detective:
Wrestlers. They can't be all-the-way there mentally, just based on what it is they do for a living; getting dropped on your head doesn't seem like a reasonable way to make a buck to me. It definitely takes a certain particular kind of lunatic to want to put on spandex and trade wristlocks with a bearded guy named Enforcer, or The Massacre or something equally banal as that. As you may have intuned, I'm not a huge fan of 'sports entertainment'... when I was a kid, sure, I loved wrestling. But when I was a kid, wrestling was about honor and respect... and occasionally about proving how great America is by beating up foreigners. It was awesome. It was, in many of our minds, real. The internet era did away with any remnants of that suspicion... we all knew, all too well, how scripted and planned pro wrestling events were. It never really settled in my mind, but if someone had asked me up until a few years ago just what I thought of professional wrestlers I'd have told you they could fuck themselves.
Then I got a reporting job for a sports website, and they flew me off to Japan to cover a WCF XIII event way back in 2012... and that's where I met the Bankstons*. At the time they were just a young couple in love, neither of them seasoned in-ring talents and both of them a little bit too crazy to fit into society. To say I liked them would be an understatement. Crystal was a force of nature, wild and unpredictable as the flames on her bodysuit... Cameron was occasionally distant, his mind always chugging away on some level. He'd get this look, like a kid trying to pass an algebra exam without using scratch paper... and man, did those two love professional wrestling. She loved the violence, he loved the valor. I knew they'd marry; within a year, they did. And those fucksticks forgot to invite me to the wedding. At least I got to watch it on pay per view**. To boot, they got me a job... I was hired to interview WCF superstars, and I enjoyed my job very much. Turns out...? For the most part, wrestlers are pretty decent people. I never really liked that Benjamin Atreyu guy, but otherwise they were an alright bunch of cats and kittens. Tek and Steeltoe Joe showed me the Pacific Ocean; I'd never seen it before in person. It was a near-religious experience. Frank Venable and the Phantasm got me thrown out of the Guiliano Hotel one time; let me correct myself. FPV and the Phantasm almost got me killed by Allen Guiliano one time, and none of us are sure how I survived***. This, then, is the sort of madness I awoke to this morning- a phone call from the Phantasm telling me that Frank Venable is in town. It's a good thing I stocked up on acid.
(* - Way back in Unstable Elements vol. 1 #2, "Tokyo Drifters". -B.)
(** - The wedding of the Unstable Elements? Check out WCF Revenge 2012 to see the madness unfold. -B.)
(*** - Holy shit. Breakout Kings of the Ring #3, "Fear and Loathing at the Guiliano"; I cannot urge you enough to check this fuckin' story out. We outdid ourselves on that one. -B.)
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"When the men on the chessboard
get up and tell you where to go
and you've just had some kind of mushroom
and your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know
when logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead
and the White Knight's talking backwards
and the Red Queen's off with her head
remember
what the dormouse said...
...feed your head." -Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit
Achieving greatness first as a BMX champion and then as a WCF wrestler, he is a man who many would say has conquered apprehension and fear; those who haven't met the obsessive compulsive young father of two. He is a hero of the present; he is THE FUTURE, JEFF PURSE!
Born with genius intelligence, his parents thought he might become a doctor or a lawyer; to everyone's surprise, all the Kid wanted to do was wrestle. Breaking into the business as a teenager, he worked his way up to the WCF bigtime as Kid Phantasm. Now a father and (more importantly) a grown ass man, he has returned- he is THE POLAR PHANTASM!
Coming up on the mean streets of Oakland, California; he survived on street knowledge, a blistering backhand and one hell of a mouthpiece. He has earned his place among the greatest in WCF history, to say nothing of his standings at each years' Players Ball; those who have underestimated him have learned firsthand not to mess with "THE MACK", STEVE ORBIT!
[Days before WCF's XIII (on two separate continents and live on pay per view!), two men who will face one another in London will meet in the city of New Orleans. Frank Venable, WCF's FPV, has hardened himself in Japan and is blowing off some steam visiting the sleepy little hardcore promotion known as GEW. To his surprise, he will soon have visitors; his opponent this Friday, the Polar Phantasm, will be joining him shortly... and he will bring with him his regular partners in WCF's Trios Cup Tournament, Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse. But what sort of madness will these four men get into in the city that never stops drinking? And what ramifications will today's events have on the future of the Wrestling Championship Federation?]
[One can never be too sure, especially not with a wildcard like Lucien Hicks in the deck. Take care of yourselves, brave adventurers; you've got a lot of work ahead of you. Enjoy your day in the sun... well, ok, maybe not that much. Come on, guys, aren't you supposed to be professionals?]
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FUTURE ELEMENTS (volume 2) #3: Feed Your Head
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[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Armstrong Int'l Airport. Three passengers disembarking from a private jet head from a smaller terminal at the back of the airport toward the central pavilion; all three men seem a bit stiff and sore, likely due to the events of the night before. Their match with the Pride and Tiffany White still tugging at their bruised bodies, Steve Orbit and the Future Elements arrive in New Orleans. They head through the terminal groggily until they see a sign reading "PHANTASM"; it is held by a scraggly looking man in a black trenchcoat. Purse laughs when he sees their welcoming committee.]
Purse: Holy shit, Lucien Hicks is still alive.
Orbit: Hicks? I heard he was in jail somewhere.
Phantasm: He's actually a detective now; I asked him to find Frank for us.
Purse: I didn't know he was lost.
Phantasm: I'm pretty sure he doesn't, either. Hey, Lucien... glad you could make it.
Hicks: You know how much an Uber to the airport costs? It's less than a cab, mind you, but it's still not cheap.
[Polar pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, peeling off a few bills and handing them to Lucien.]
Hicks: Gratzi. Also, danke brah.
[The four head off toward the airport entrance.]
Orbit: So what are we planning for Sunday?
Phantasm: Same thing we do every week, Pinky. Try to take over the world.
Orbit: He's been waiting to use that, hasn't he?
Purse: Mmhmm.
[They head out of the terminal, instantly swarmed by the heat of a New Orleans spring (it's basically a rainy, damp summer). The sun is so bright it causes Lucien to recoil as if he were Nosferatu.]
Orbit: I meant about the match, Polar- we've got King and Felt and White again, plus three more opponents. Nine man, three team shit. We're gonna need a plan.
Phantasm: We already know how to beat the Pride, and Eye-Seven didn't turn over anything interesting on the other three. I figure the best way to get some practice in before the match Sunday is to get some ring-time, right?
Orbit: Right, right.
Purse: Uh-oh.
Orbit: What?
Purse: I don't like where this is going.
Phantasm: It's going to Marrero, is where it's going.
Orbit: GEW?
Phantasm: Yep. We're taking on Urban Decay tonight, boys.
Purse: Ugh, they're so dirty.
Phantasm: Yep. Human oil slicks, every one of them. Fuckin' trust fund losers.
[They enter a mini-van; a genial gentleman driving the van bids them hello. His neckbeard is... dare I say, majestic.]
Driver: Where to, boys?
Phantasm: Lucien-
Hicks: Hotel Monteleone, as quick as you can. These three are late for a meeting.
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[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Cafe Beignet. It's a quiet afternoon in the French Quarter; as quiet as these things go, anyway. The Quarter is traditionally a hub of tourism and alcoholism... this particular corner of the Quarter, though, is patently quiet and quite relieving compared to the madness that lie just down the street. At a table in one corner of the place we see FPV having a cup of cafe au lait and a plate of beignets. He looks through a wrestling magazine, examining the details on GEW's top 'stars' in a special profile on the small-time wrestling federation the magazine features towards the back.]
FPV: Hmm... says here that the British Invasion's Sir Robert Duncan is #1 contender for the World Title.
[Frank finishes his coffee, folding his wrestling magzine.]
FPV: SRD... heh. Somebody's going after the World Title, but I think they've got the wrong initials in this magazine.
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[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, the Hotel Monteleone. Orbit and Purse sit in the Carousel Bar, each having a bloody mary; Orbit nibbles on a red-stained green bean and looks over to see Lucien and the Phantasm having a quiet discussion about fifteen feet away. Lucien hands the Phantasm something and throws his hands up, walking away. He turns and says something; Polar just waves to him.]
Orbit: Wonder what the fuck they're up to.
Purse: Nothing good, I imagine. You ever met Lucien Hicks before?
Orbit: Fuck yeah, dude interviewed me before he got laid off. Good guy, pretty intense.
Purse: He's a nutcase. Good guy, like you said... just screws loose everywhere you can fit screws on a person. You know what I mean.
[Polar approaches, handing a sweet tart to each of his teammates. He chomps into one, smiling.]
Phantasm: Come on guys, this'll be fun. We're gonna take on GEW with a full head of steam.
[They look speculatively at the candies, not knowing what to make of the situation. Purse makes a conclusion out loud.]
Purse: There's LSD in these, isn't there.
Phantasm: I can neither confirm or deny the nature of these sweet tarts.
Orbit: Oh, hell no.
Phantasm: What?
Orbit: This shit is acid, man! We're gonna wrestle tripping balls? I don't think so, man...
Phantasm: Nah, it's straight. His friend Stein made this stuff, it's good to go. Very lucid, mellow stuff. He works on it, sometimes.
[Orbit turns to Purse, remarking on his earlier comment.]
Orbit: I see what you mean about Hicks.
Phantasm: Come on, guys, it'll be fun. Trust me. How else the hell are we gonna get prepared for a nine-man three-way Trios match?
Purse: What, by hallucinating a third team tonight?
Phantasm: If that's what happens, man, I say go with it.
Orbit: Who the fuck you think we are, Jeff Hardy?
Phantasm: Purse maybe.
Purse: Hey!
Phantasm: Well, I'm at least doing it.
[He swallows his candy after savoring its sweet tartness. Orbit shrugs and eats his; Purse does the same.]
Phantasm: Now we just gotta find Frank.
[Just then, FPV heads through the lobby; Polar runs off to meet him. He shouts behind him to his teammates.]
Phantasm: Be right back, guys- I think I see the target.
Orbit: We gotta be out or fuckin' minds, man.
Purse: Whatever you do, don't tell Kari we did this.
Orbit: Dude, we're gonna be at a TV taping; whatever happens, we'll end up syndicated cross-country after this shit.
[Purse lets his head drop, smacking the bar next to his drink. Orbit laughs.]
Orbit: She'll get over it, man. That chick loves your ass.
[...a moment later, Polar returns with FPV in tow. Frank smirks and shouts to his old friends.]
FPV: Whoa, it's a fuckin' Cryogenix reunion in here. Whatup, Jeff? Whatup, Steve?
Orbit: Frank, my man. Been a minute.
[Frank and Orbit slap hands, then fist bump. Frank simulates an explosion with his hand.]
FPV: Purse, you alright?
[Jeff picks his head up from the bar.]
Purse: Polar made us eat acid before the match tonight.
[FPV laughs heartily.]
FPV: Fuckin' a. Now that's some classic GEW shit right there. So random even you don't know what you're gonna do.
Phantasm: Yep, that's the idea. We're gonna get loosey-goosey before Slam Sunday come hell or high water.
FPV: So why are you three here, other than a warmup match?
Phantasm: I wanted to check with you and see what you're doing here, bro. We all know how shady Richards is-
Purse: Totally shady.
Orbit: Man's cheaper than a bus full of Hebrews.
Phantasm: And he's actually paying you what you were making in Japan?
FPV: Yeah, I guess he knows talent when he sees it. Told me to do whatever I feel, so I think I'm gonna angle my way at Warhawk.
[Polar does a double-take.]
Phantasm: You're going after the World Title.
FPV: Yep. I'm gonna get it, too. Warhawk ain't that tough.
[Polar sighs.]
Phantasm: That's what he wants, then.
FPV: What?
Phantasm: Richards. He wants you as his champion, and he'll do whatever he can to keep you once you're champion.
FPV: Ha! Let him try; hell, I might even defend that title at XIII. Once I win it, I suppose.
Phantasm: You think you got a shot at Warhawk?
FPV: Dude, I'll mop the floor with him.
Phantasm: Well then...
[Wheels obviously turn in the Phantasm's mind. He fist bumps Frank, who just smiles.]
Phantasm: -go for it. He can't hold you hostage, can he? Fuck it; go for broke. You're a juggernaut, Franky.
FPV: You're god damn right. I gotta shower and shit, I'll see you fools later.
[Frank heads toward the lobby, leaving Orbit and the Future Elements to await the coming throes of an acid trip.]
Purse: I think my brain is mumbling.
Phantasm: Yeah, it'll do that. Just tell it to be quiet, or get louder. One of the two. Embrace your madness, Jeff.
Orbit: I'm not sure you should be giving motherfuckers advice right now, P.
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[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Woldenberg Park. Jeff Purse, the Polar Phantasm and Steve Orbit stare off at the Westbank (the colloquial name for the cities across the Mississippi River from downtown New Orleans) while the acid takes over. Purse lies beneath and stares up into a tree, inspecting bark and limb from below. The Phantasm is staring at the backs of his hands, mesmerized. We see Orbit checking out a young mother with two children, walking through the park...]
Orbit: Been thinking about my moms lately.
Phantasm: Yeah? I thought about going across the river to say hi to mom and dad, but it'd just be weird considering why I'm in town and like, how my brain feels right now. My thoughts are too weird a flavor to visit Antarctica, man.
Purse: I'm taking my mom out to dinner as soon as Trios is over... and I'm taking Kari out as soon as we get back.
Phantasm: Why, what's up?
Purse: It's Mother's Day this weekend, man.
Phantasm: Ah, shit- I forgot. Now I gotta get something together for Crystal... something nice. Damn, I gotta think- oh, good lookin' out, though.
[Steve Orbit laughs.]
Orbit: Man, I ain't takin' any of my bitches anywhere except maybe the clinic.
[They laugh, then Polar suddenly has a revelation. He snaps up and makes a definitive statement.]
Phantasm: We need snowballs.
Orbit: Snowballs? In May? In Louisiana.
[They get up and follow, Polar already about 1/3 a block ahead of them and headed into the French Quarter. We cut to a few blocks away; the Phantasm steps up in line and places his order as Purse and Orbit inspect the plywood and paint-marker 'menu'.]
Phantasm: Yeah, lemme get a big Wedding Cake with condensed milk.
[Both Jeff and Steve laugh at Polar's order. He looks at them with a shrug.]
Phantasm: It was either Wedding Cake or Spearmint; I just went with my gut.
Orbit: Wedding Cake? How many fuckin' flavors they got back there?
[He peers behind the cashier to see a massive rack of syrup bottles; he watches as an attendant pours a clear syrup onto a cup filled with finely crushed ice, then pours from a can of PET condensed milk onto the concoction.]
Orbit: Damn, I think I'm gonna try the grape; be like eatin' a big ol' freeze pop.
Purse: I don't know- there's so many choices.
Phantasm: Here, Jeff, try this.
[Purse scoops a clump of creamy ice crumbles into his mouth; he immediately reacts.]
Purse: Damn, that is good- it's frosty and crunchy and creamy, and- yeah, almond- that actually tastes like a wedding cake.
Phantasm: I know, right?!
Orbit: Hey man, let me get a big Grape one; save the cream filling for the next man.
Purse: Yeah, let me get one like he got-
[Purse points at Polar, who sits at a plastic picnic bench contentedly eating his snowball. Soon Orbit joins him, then Purse; the three sit and eat their snowballs for a minute as the sun begins to set over the city.]
Phantasm: Sunset's coming- we'd better start heading toward Marrero.
[Orbit slurps a shot of syrupy deliciousness from the bottom of his cup. Purse winces noticeably at the sound.]
Purse: Ah, Jesus, that's like knives into my brain, man.
Orbit: Fuck it-
[He tosses his cup over Polar's head and into a trash barrel.]
Orbit: -nothin' but net. Let's do this, y'all.
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[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, the GEW Arena parking lot. We see a rental Audi pulling up to the arena; FPV gets out and heads toward the building carrying a duffel bag. As he passes the parking lot entrance, he notices a car cautiously angling into the parking lot; behind the wheel is the Phantasm, and his pupils are gigantic. Frank laughs as he sees Purse gazing out of the passenger side window in wonder at Bayou Segnette around them.]
FPV: They're fuuuucked up.
[He considers waiting for them and entering with them, but shrugs and heads inside alone. Meanwhile, back in the parking lot, Polar joins Orbit and Purse in staring at the cypress swamp surrounding the Arena. Polar takes a big whiff of swamp air.]
Phantasm: Smells like home to me.
Orbit: Smells like wet shit and alligators, man.
Purse: What do alligators smell like?
Phantasm: They probably stink pretty bad, now that you mention it.
[They head inside, laughing a bit at how alligators smell; their giggling is definitely chemically-induced.]
[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, the GEW Arena at ringside. We go to Boomer Brown, who opens the Madhouse show with a huge pop.]
Boomer Brown: Hello everyone, and welcome to GEW's Monday Maaaaadhoooouuussse!
[The crowd goes apeshit, then begins chanting 'GEW'.]
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
["Fuckin in the Bushes" by Oasis begins playing, signalling that the British Invasion are among us. Sir Robert Duncan appears from the curtain, followed closely by the smaller but quicker Richey Razorblade. They hold up the GEW Tag Team Titles as they head down to ringside; Razorblade slaps a few hands as a "YOU BOTH SUCK" chant comes from the back of the room. They enter the ring; SRD takes the mic, silencing the crowd with a gesture.]
SRD: We're here to tell you something, wot-
[The crowd boos.]
Crowd: YOU STILL SUCK! YOU STILL SUCK!
SRD: Piss off, you bloody hooligans!
[Sir Robert's thick Oklahoma accent shows through his terrible British affectation; the crowd continues booing the 'British Suplex Machine' with aplomb.]
SRD: Tonight, in this very ring, I will bring home the GEW World Title for Queen and Country-
["Through the Night" by Masahiko Arimatsu hits the speakers; the crowd quickly begins cheering as FPV charges through the curtain and storms the ring with a folding chair. Frank bends the folding chair over SRD's head, then begins trading punches with Richey Razorblade. Frank swings and misses; Razorblade catches him in a waist lock, which Frank quickly reverses. FPV delivers a massive Tiger Suplex to Richey, then springs up and turns his attention to the risen Robert Duncan. SRD waves for FPV to bring it; Frank brings him a superkick, and the crowd reacts appropriately.]
Crowd: BOOM! HEADSHOT!
[SRD flops to the mat like a sack of potatoes, then begins dragging himself up by the ropes. Frank looks to the crowd; they go crazy as he points to the timekeeper.]
Boomer Brown: Am I on? Fans- fans, I can't believe what we're seeing... FPV is taking apart the GEW Tag Team Champions by himself!
[Frank cinches up SRD, straining once before belly-to-belly suplexing the 280+ pound Duncan over the top rope and through the timekeeper's table.]
Boomer: OH MY GOD!
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
Boomer: It didn't take Frank Venable long to get used to how we do things in GEW- SRD folded up like pop-tarts at the bottom of a child's backpack! What does this do to tonight's main event World Title match? My guess, fans? My guess is Frank Venable saw something he wanted tonight and he took it- he sidelined the British Invasion, both of them, most likely- so he'd be free and clear to take a shot at Andy Warhawk himself here tonight. Fans, we've got a hell of a lineup for you tonight- aside from whatever happens with tonight's main event, we've also got Reptile defending the GEW Deathmatch Championship in a thumbtack match against Psychoholic, and later tonight we've got a special treat! Urban Decay will be trying to hold their own against not one, not two but THREE visiting superstars from WCF! Tonight, here on Madhouse, it's a six-man massacre; it's Urban Decay vs. Steve Orbit, Jeff Purse and the Polar Phantasm - WCF's Trios Cup Tournament team the Ice Cold Future Pimps!
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[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, ringside at the GEW Arena. Ring Announcer Richard Vranch is in the ring with a microphone ready to start making introductions. "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin plays in the background as three members of Urban Decay mount the ramp and head toward the ring, sneering at the fans. Leading them is David Kellogg, known to GEW faithful as (former three-time World Champion) D-K; he wears a leather jacket over a Melvins T-shirt, flannel about his waist covering the top of his dirty jeans. Trailing him are the 265 pound 420 (wearing a Kottonmouth Kings t-shirt and a visor reading "#420-4-Life") and the 313 pound Freak (wearing a torn gray t-shirt under a pair of tattered overalls).]
Richard Vranch: First, entering the ring at this time, weighing in at a combined total of 827 pounds... URBAN DECAY!
[The crowd boos; a cup of beer hits D-K in the back of the head. He makes a point of ensuring that the fan is thrown out as he is vilified by the audience.]
Boomer: No love for D-K here from the GEW Arena audience; and why would they? He's the worst kind of trust-fund preppie turned gutter rat, and his band of merry idiots are even worse.
["Paradigm Shift" by Liquid Tension Experiment plays as the crowd goes crazy.]
Boomer: And here they are- the Future Elements and Steve Orbit!
[The curtain flies open to reveal the Polar Phantasm, eyes wide as all outside. Jeff and Steve follow close behind, gazing in wonder at the small but enthusiastic crowd of roughly 1400 people all snapping cameraphone pics and shouting 'WELCOME BACK' at them. After cautiously mounting the ramp, they enter the ring with a burst of speed and a trio of head-first slides. Polar leaps to the top turnbuckle, giving the crowd a bow; Orbit bounces from rope to rope, as if picking up speed for something. Purse inexplicably does a handstand, then walks on his hands for a few steps until Orbit's bounding causes him to roll out of it. Orbit stops running at this point, looking over at Urban Decay- he jumps into a 'crane kick' position before doubling himself over with laughter at their expressions.]
Boomer: And these three are certainly full of energy tonight-
[Freak tries to rush Steve Orbit, but the other Urban Decay members hold him back; D-K conferences with his people as Orbit leans back into his corner and watches them act out. Richard Vranch quickly abandons the ring, introductions unfinished; he has little choice, as D-K and Steve Orbit begin the match without instruction.]
Boomer: This match is already starting and we didn't even get introductions for the Ice Cold Future Pimps- though they hardly need introduction, even here in GEW. Wrestling fans the world over know these men- alright, we've got a test of strength here, D-K pressing his advantage... Orbit- Orbit going back with a full bridge here, arching at probably an unhealthy angle... and now he's pushing back! Orbit forcing D-K back into- no, knee to the gut- and there's a snap suplex to the former World Champ! D-K back up; gets an arm drag for his trouble; Orbit catches him on the rebound- side russian leg sweep takes D-K off his feet again! He's getting bounced like a basketball out there!
[Orbit helps D-K up, then whips him around and into the ropes behind him.]
Boomer: Irish whip- Orbit telegraphs the backdrop; SUNSET FLIP! D-K with a huge maneuver; 1 count only says Referee Daniel Kaye. Oh, and that's a bit much- D-K with a stomp for Orbit- ugh, and he blows his nose at him! Absolutely disgusting.
Crowd: YOU GROSS FUCK! YOU GROSS FUCK!
Boomer: The GEW Arena crowd is certainly giving it to David Kellogg for his disgusting- Orbit trips D-K by yanking his feet out from under him! And there's an STF from the Mack- textbook form, though he's gotta break it. D-K got to the bottom rope like his life depended on it, because it may have... at least life in this match, anyhow. D-K's gotten pretty close to his corner here, Orbit's trying to drag him back out but no go- there's the tag to the 313 pound Freak. And Freak clotheslines Steve Orbit into a full flip! Holy cats, what impact!
[Sure enough, Steve Orbit sells that clothesline like he needs the money for his mama's operation. Purse laughs, then realizes he shouldn't laugh at such things and just claps his hands to urge Orbit on; Polar tries to reach for a tag that only Stretch Armstrong could make.]
Boomer: And you see the Phantasm trying to reach Steve Orbit, but that's not happening; Freak spits at him, and I think got him in the shoulder. Irish whip... Orbit slides! Baseball slide to stop his momentum... and he leaps into his corner tagging the Future, Jeff Purse! Purse wasting no time, slingshots into the ring with a dropkick on Freak.
Crowd: TAKE A SHOWER! TAKE A SHOWER!
Boomer: Urban Decay continuing to get no end of trouble from the GEW Arena crowd; in the ring, meanwhile, Freak counters an arm wringer by just flipping Jeff Purse to the mat, then lands a huge splash onto the former WCF Champion- ugh, poor Jeff Purse. Even a non-germophobe would think that's a hellish fate. Freak dragging Purse by the hair now, come on- low blow! Purse goes downstairs and comes up big- and a DDT! The crowd comes alive now as Jeff Purse takes control- there's a tag to the Polar Phantasm, no stranger to GEW- what in the?! Total Elimination?!
[The Future Elements nearly split Freak in half with the combination leg sweep and roundhouse kick; Freak's head lands roughly on the mat. Polar dives in for a cover.]
Boomer: Cover by Phantasm- 2 count only, says Referee Daniel Kaye. As I said, Polar- or rather, Kid Phantasm- is one of the most well-known wrestlers to ever work for Global Extreme Wrestling; sadly, he was released by GEW due to a contract clause and a lost title shot. To think what could've been for this young man. Polar whips Freak into the corner; he doesn't even bounce out of the corner, he just slumps into it- perhaps Total Elimination gave him some head trauma. Polar rolls in with- yes! Senton splash slaps Freak across the face, and he rolls out of the ring in self-preservation.
[Steve Orbit digs under the ring and pulls out a table; the fans respond appropriately, increasing in volume by at least double. Polar and Orbit set the table; meanwhile, in the ring a wakening Freak and an ignored 420 take the fight to Jeff Purse.]
Boomer: Oh, look out Jeff Purse- power slam by 420! Now he's climbing the ropes- Freak's picking Purse up on his shoulders, this could be the end for the Ice Cold Future Pimps! Purse rolls it up- Purse rolled Freak up from atop his shoulders, and caused 420 to jump on his own face in the process! 2 count only, I think even Purse was stunned that that worked. Across the ring on the outside, D-K and Steve Orbit are back at it; Orbit pitches him into the ringpost, that'll quiet anybody down. I think Polar- yes, the Phantasm remembered his tag partner, he's back in the ring just in time to save Jeff Purse from a camel clutch from 420... irish whip, 420 sails in- and then gets tossed up and catches all the impact across the ribs, what strength by the Phantasm! From out of nowhere, Purse up top- OH MY GOD!
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
[Outside the ring, Jeff Purse lies in a blast of table chunks; there is no sight of his intended target, D-K. No, wait, there he is; hiding under the fucking ring.]
Boomer: Jeff Purse went for a top rope splash through the table D-K was laid out on, but apparently between taking that ringpost bump and Purse's flight D-K had enough time to make his move... to hide under the ring in the most cowardly manner possible. In the ring, Freak's got the Phantasm in a huge bear hug, that's gotta hurt; here comes Steve Orbit for the save, but D-K grabs his foot- revenge for earlier, perhaps- and that'll knock a tooth out every time, Orbit puts his boot right in D-K's chops! Orbit finally makes the save, but the Phantasm has taken the worst of it... PIMP SLAP! Freak gets his neck turned sideways with the impact- and a double suplex by Polar and Orbit! That'll be all, I'm sure- 420 breaks up the cover at 2, where did he come from? Speaking of- Jeff Purse flies in from nowhere, springboard sidekick takes 420 off his feet... he came from out of nowhere, last I saw he was outside the ring in a pile of table! SPOKE! Purse hits the Spoke on Freak, and it takes him clear out of the ring! Orbit with a baseball slide, D-K's clear of the ring- this looks like the end for Mr. 420! Polar cinches him up- OCEAN CYCLONE SUPLEX, beautiful- and here comes Purse- DEFLATOR! It's gotta be over- there's the 3.
Richard Vranch: Your winning team... STEVE ORBIT, JEFF PURSE AND THE POLAR PHANTASM!
Boomer: And if that wasn't enough show for you, fans... next up we've got Andy Warhawk and Frank Venable for the GEW WORLD TITLE.
----------------------------------------
(To be continued in the match-unrelevant (like any of this wasn't?) POLAR PHANTASM (volume 4) #5, "Venable II - The Adventure of Frank".)
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2016. Steve Orbit appears courtesy of Oakland, California, USA. Frank Venable appears courtesy of Akihabara Prefecture, Tokyo, Japan. Boomer Brown appears courtesy of Global Extreme Wrestling. The views and practices of Lucien Hicks are not those of the Wrestling Championship Federation or any of its sponsors or affiliates; all rights reserved.]
Casanova: What're you thinking about?
Phantasm: Wondering what Frank's doing.
Casanova: Shit, at this hour? His ass is sleeping, wherever he is. Or he ain't gone to bed yet, one... what you worried for, he's a grown ass man.
Phantasm: I'm just worried he might've gotten into something he can't easily get out of. You know how tricky Richards is-
Casanova: Mmhmm.
Phantasm: I just want to... ugh, I'm gonna make a call. Excuse me a sec, would you?
Casanova: G'head, brah.
[Polar heads into the living room; he checks the time, shrugging for no one's benefit before dialing a number on his wrist-terminal and making a call to New Orleans.]
---------------------------------------------------
[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, the home of Lucien Hicks. This shotgun house, known to the post office as 439 S. Murat Street, is also offices of the Ouroboros Detective Agency; the living room is done up like a small office and waiting room, complete with comfortable-looking burgundy sofa. The sofa is occupied when we first arrive on scene, but the phone rings shortly thereafter... disturbing a sleeping Lucien, who rolls off the sofa onto the floor before digging in his pocket and answering the phone.]
Hicks: Hello?
Phantasm: Lucien! Sorry to wake you up, man-
[Lucien recoils in surprise and frustration at the voice of the Phantasm coming through his phone. He reaches over onto his desk, picking up a small plastic baggie and a glass pipe about as thick as an axe handle.]
Hicks: No you're not. What's up, Cam? You usually just show up at my house unannounced. Do I actually have time to take a shit and get dressed this time? Wow.
Phantasm: Nice to hear you're still your usual glib self, man. Listen, Frank Venable's down there right now-
[Lucien shakes his head as he crumbles a few green buds into his pipe.]
Hicks: -of course! Of fucking course he is. One of you has to be around to make sure my life doesn't get boring or, you know, sane in any way. How is Frank, anyhow?
[Lucien lights his breakfast while on the phone.]
Phantasm: I don't know, actually. You haven't seen him, then?
Hicks (coughing): Not in years, actually-
Phantasm: Well, would you make a point of it?
[Lucien pauses for a moment, both in an attempt to settle his morning smoker's cough and in an attempt to sum up what the Phantasm is asking him to do.]
Hicks: Well, it's do-able. You hiring me to find Frank Venable? Is that what's up?
Phantasm: Sure, call it what you want. But find him, and tell him we're coming to visit.
Hicks: Who's we? You bringing the missus? Ask if she's down to help out on a few cases. We actually got shit done when Crystal was working with us, mostly because we're all scared of her.
Phantasm: Completely understandable. Nah, she's back in Vegas, busy raising our son while I try to save professional wrestling. You know how we do-
Hicks: Ah, back to that already. Alright, I'll find Frank for you; unless he's hiding, it'll be a piece of cake. Besides, he sticks out like a sore thumb even in the French Quarter... at least he used to when he had the permanent spiky bed-head thing going on. When are y'all coming?
Phantasm: As soon as Orbit's jet is ready to fly... and once I find Steve and Jeff and tell them we're going to New Orleans.
Hicks: Of course.
Phantasm: Of course.
Hicks: See ya in the world, Cam.
[The line goes dead before the Phantasm can respond; he just chuckles, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: It's gonna be a weird fuckin' day. I'm callin' it early.
------------------------------------------------
From the files of Lucien Hicks, Renegade Detective:
Wrestlers. They can't be all-the-way there mentally, just based on what it is they do for a living; getting dropped on your head doesn't seem like a reasonable way to make a buck to me. It definitely takes a certain particular kind of lunatic to want to put on spandex and trade wristlocks with a bearded guy named Enforcer, or The Massacre or something equally banal as that. As you may have intuned, I'm not a huge fan of 'sports entertainment'... when I was a kid, sure, I loved wrestling. But when I was a kid, wrestling was about honor and respect... and occasionally about proving how great America is by beating up foreigners. It was awesome. It was, in many of our minds, real. The internet era did away with any remnants of that suspicion... we all knew, all too well, how scripted and planned pro wrestling events were. It never really settled in my mind, but if someone had asked me up until a few years ago just what I thought of professional wrestlers I'd have told you they could fuck themselves.
Then I got a reporting job for a sports website, and they flew me off to Japan to cover a WCF XIII event way back in 2012... and that's where I met the Bankstons*. At the time they were just a young couple in love, neither of them seasoned in-ring talents and both of them a little bit too crazy to fit into society. To say I liked them would be an understatement. Crystal was a force of nature, wild and unpredictable as the flames on her bodysuit... Cameron was occasionally distant, his mind always chugging away on some level. He'd get this look, like a kid trying to pass an algebra exam without using scratch paper... and man, did those two love professional wrestling. She loved the violence, he loved the valor. I knew they'd marry; within a year, they did. And those fucksticks forgot to invite me to the wedding. At least I got to watch it on pay per view**. To boot, they got me a job... I was hired to interview WCF superstars, and I enjoyed my job very much. Turns out...? For the most part, wrestlers are pretty decent people. I never really liked that Benjamin Atreyu guy, but otherwise they were an alright bunch of cats and kittens. Tek and Steeltoe Joe showed me the Pacific Ocean; I'd never seen it before in person. It was a near-religious experience. Frank Venable and the Phantasm got me thrown out of the Guiliano Hotel one time; let me correct myself. FPV and the Phantasm almost got me killed by Allen Guiliano one time, and none of us are sure how I survived***. This, then, is the sort of madness I awoke to this morning- a phone call from the Phantasm telling me that Frank Venable is in town. It's a good thing I stocked up on acid.
(* - Way back in Unstable Elements vol. 1 #2, "Tokyo Drifters". -B.)
(** - The wedding of the Unstable Elements? Check out WCF Revenge 2012 to see the madness unfold. -B.)
(*** - Holy shit. Breakout Kings of the Ring #3, "Fear and Loathing at the Guiliano"; I cannot urge you enough to check this fuckin' story out. We outdid ourselves on that one. -B.)
---------------------------------------
"When the men on the chessboard
get up and tell you where to go
and you've just had some kind of mushroom
and your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know
when logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead
and the White Knight's talking backwards
and the Red Queen's off with her head
remember
what the dormouse said...
...feed your head." -Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit
Achieving greatness first as a BMX champion and then as a WCF wrestler, he is a man who many would say has conquered apprehension and fear; those who haven't met the obsessive compulsive young father of two. He is a hero of the present; he is THE FUTURE, JEFF PURSE!
Born with genius intelligence, his parents thought he might become a doctor or a lawyer; to everyone's surprise, all the Kid wanted to do was wrestle. Breaking into the business as a teenager, he worked his way up to the WCF bigtime as Kid Phantasm. Now a father and (more importantly) a grown ass man, he has returned- he is THE POLAR PHANTASM!
Coming up on the mean streets of Oakland, California; he survived on street knowledge, a blistering backhand and one hell of a mouthpiece. He has earned his place among the greatest in WCF history, to say nothing of his standings at each years' Players Ball; those who have underestimated him have learned firsthand not to mess with "THE MACK", STEVE ORBIT!
[Days before WCF's XIII (on two separate continents and live on pay per view!), two men who will face one another in London will meet in the city of New Orleans. Frank Venable, WCF's FPV, has hardened himself in Japan and is blowing off some steam visiting the sleepy little hardcore promotion known as GEW. To his surprise, he will soon have visitors; his opponent this Friday, the Polar Phantasm, will be joining him shortly... and he will bring with him his regular partners in WCF's Trios Cup Tournament, Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse. But what sort of madness will these four men get into in the city that never stops drinking? And what ramifications will today's events have on the future of the Wrestling Championship Federation?]
[One can never be too sure, especially not with a wildcard like Lucien Hicks in the deck. Take care of yourselves, brave adventurers; you've got a lot of work ahead of you. Enjoy your day in the sun... well, ok, maybe not that much. Come on, guys, aren't you supposed to be professionals?]
--------------------------------------------
FUTURE ELEMENTS (volume 2) #3: Feed Your Head
--------------------------------------------
[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Armstrong Int'l Airport. Three passengers disembarking from a private jet head from a smaller terminal at the back of the airport toward the central pavilion; all three men seem a bit stiff and sore, likely due to the events of the night before. Their match with the Pride and Tiffany White still tugging at their bruised bodies, Steve Orbit and the Future Elements arrive in New Orleans. They head through the terminal groggily until they see a sign reading "PHANTASM"; it is held by a scraggly looking man in a black trenchcoat. Purse laughs when he sees their welcoming committee.]
Purse: Holy shit, Lucien Hicks is still alive.
Orbit: Hicks? I heard he was in jail somewhere.
Phantasm: He's actually a detective now; I asked him to find Frank for us.
Purse: I didn't know he was lost.
Phantasm: I'm pretty sure he doesn't, either. Hey, Lucien... glad you could make it.
Hicks: You know how much an Uber to the airport costs? It's less than a cab, mind you, but it's still not cheap.
[Polar pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, peeling off a few bills and handing them to Lucien.]
Hicks: Gratzi. Also, danke brah.
[The four head off toward the airport entrance.]
Orbit: So what are we planning for Sunday?
Phantasm: Same thing we do every week, Pinky. Try to take over the world.
Orbit: He's been waiting to use that, hasn't he?
Purse: Mmhmm.
[They head out of the terminal, instantly swarmed by the heat of a New Orleans spring (it's basically a rainy, damp summer). The sun is so bright it causes Lucien to recoil as if he were Nosferatu.]
Orbit: I meant about the match, Polar- we've got King and Felt and White again, plus three more opponents. Nine man, three team shit. We're gonna need a plan.
Phantasm: We already know how to beat the Pride, and Eye-Seven didn't turn over anything interesting on the other three. I figure the best way to get some practice in before the match Sunday is to get some ring-time, right?
Orbit: Right, right.
Purse: Uh-oh.
Orbit: What?
Purse: I don't like where this is going.
Phantasm: It's going to Marrero, is where it's going.
Orbit: GEW?
Phantasm: Yep. We're taking on Urban Decay tonight, boys.
Purse: Ugh, they're so dirty.
Phantasm: Yep. Human oil slicks, every one of them. Fuckin' trust fund losers.
[They enter a mini-van; a genial gentleman driving the van bids them hello. His neckbeard is... dare I say, majestic.]
Driver: Where to, boys?
Phantasm: Lucien-
Hicks: Hotel Monteleone, as quick as you can. These three are late for a meeting.
-----------------------------------------
[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Cafe Beignet. It's a quiet afternoon in the French Quarter; as quiet as these things go, anyway. The Quarter is traditionally a hub of tourism and alcoholism... this particular corner of the Quarter, though, is patently quiet and quite relieving compared to the madness that lie just down the street. At a table in one corner of the place we see FPV having a cup of cafe au lait and a plate of beignets. He looks through a wrestling magazine, examining the details on GEW's top 'stars' in a special profile on the small-time wrestling federation the magazine features towards the back.]
FPV: Hmm... says here that the British Invasion's Sir Robert Duncan is #1 contender for the World Title.
[Frank finishes his coffee, folding his wrestling magzine.]
FPV: SRD... heh. Somebody's going after the World Title, but I think they've got the wrong initials in this magazine.
----------------------------------------------
[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, the Hotel Monteleone. Orbit and Purse sit in the Carousel Bar, each having a bloody mary; Orbit nibbles on a red-stained green bean and looks over to see Lucien and the Phantasm having a quiet discussion about fifteen feet away. Lucien hands the Phantasm something and throws his hands up, walking away. He turns and says something; Polar just waves to him.]
Orbit: Wonder what the fuck they're up to.
Purse: Nothing good, I imagine. You ever met Lucien Hicks before?
Orbit: Fuck yeah, dude interviewed me before he got laid off. Good guy, pretty intense.
Purse: He's a nutcase. Good guy, like you said... just screws loose everywhere you can fit screws on a person. You know what I mean.
[Polar approaches, handing a sweet tart to each of his teammates. He chomps into one, smiling.]
Phantasm: Come on guys, this'll be fun. We're gonna take on GEW with a full head of steam.
[They look speculatively at the candies, not knowing what to make of the situation. Purse makes a conclusion out loud.]
Purse: There's LSD in these, isn't there.
Phantasm: I can neither confirm or deny the nature of these sweet tarts.
Orbit: Oh, hell no.
Phantasm: What?
Orbit: This shit is acid, man! We're gonna wrestle tripping balls? I don't think so, man...
Phantasm: Nah, it's straight. His friend Stein made this stuff, it's good to go. Very lucid, mellow stuff. He works on it, sometimes.
[Orbit turns to Purse, remarking on his earlier comment.]
Orbit: I see what you mean about Hicks.
Phantasm: Come on, guys, it'll be fun. Trust me. How else the hell are we gonna get prepared for a nine-man three-way Trios match?
Purse: What, by hallucinating a third team tonight?
Phantasm: If that's what happens, man, I say go with it.
Orbit: Who the fuck you think we are, Jeff Hardy?
Phantasm: Purse maybe.
Purse: Hey!
Phantasm: Well, I'm at least doing it.
[He swallows his candy after savoring its sweet tartness. Orbit shrugs and eats his; Purse does the same.]
Phantasm: Now we just gotta find Frank.
[Just then, FPV heads through the lobby; Polar runs off to meet him. He shouts behind him to his teammates.]
Phantasm: Be right back, guys- I think I see the target.
Orbit: We gotta be out or fuckin' minds, man.
Purse: Whatever you do, don't tell Kari we did this.
Orbit: Dude, we're gonna be at a TV taping; whatever happens, we'll end up syndicated cross-country after this shit.
[Purse lets his head drop, smacking the bar next to his drink. Orbit laughs.]
Orbit: She'll get over it, man. That chick loves your ass.
[...a moment later, Polar returns with FPV in tow. Frank smirks and shouts to his old friends.]
FPV: Whoa, it's a fuckin' Cryogenix reunion in here. Whatup, Jeff? Whatup, Steve?
Orbit: Frank, my man. Been a minute.
[Frank and Orbit slap hands, then fist bump. Frank simulates an explosion with his hand.]
FPV: Purse, you alright?
[Jeff picks his head up from the bar.]
Purse: Polar made us eat acid before the match tonight.
[FPV laughs heartily.]
FPV: Fuckin' a. Now that's some classic GEW shit right there. So random even you don't know what you're gonna do.
Phantasm: Yep, that's the idea. We're gonna get loosey-goosey before Slam Sunday come hell or high water.
FPV: So why are you three here, other than a warmup match?
Phantasm: I wanted to check with you and see what you're doing here, bro. We all know how shady Richards is-
Purse: Totally shady.
Orbit: Man's cheaper than a bus full of Hebrews.
Phantasm: And he's actually paying you what you were making in Japan?
FPV: Yeah, I guess he knows talent when he sees it. Told me to do whatever I feel, so I think I'm gonna angle my way at Warhawk.
[Polar does a double-take.]
Phantasm: You're going after the World Title.
FPV: Yep. I'm gonna get it, too. Warhawk ain't that tough.
[Polar sighs.]
Phantasm: That's what he wants, then.
FPV: What?
Phantasm: Richards. He wants you as his champion, and he'll do whatever he can to keep you once you're champion.
FPV: Ha! Let him try; hell, I might even defend that title at XIII. Once I win it, I suppose.
Phantasm: You think you got a shot at Warhawk?
FPV: Dude, I'll mop the floor with him.
Phantasm: Well then...
[Wheels obviously turn in the Phantasm's mind. He fist bumps Frank, who just smiles.]
Phantasm: -go for it. He can't hold you hostage, can he? Fuck it; go for broke. You're a juggernaut, Franky.
FPV: You're god damn right. I gotta shower and shit, I'll see you fools later.
[Frank heads toward the lobby, leaving Orbit and the Future Elements to await the coming throes of an acid trip.]
Purse: I think my brain is mumbling.
Phantasm: Yeah, it'll do that. Just tell it to be quiet, or get louder. One of the two. Embrace your madness, Jeff.
Orbit: I'm not sure you should be giving motherfuckers advice right now, P.
-----------------------------------------
[Scene: New Orleans, LA; more specifically, Woldenberg Park. Jeff Purse, the Polar Phantasm and Steve Orbit stare off at the Westbank (the colloquial name for the cities across the Mississippi River from downtown New Orleans) while the acid takes over. Purse lies beneath and stares up into a tree, inspecting bark and limb from below. The Phantasm is staring at the backs of his hands, mesmerized. We see Orbit checking out a young mother with two children, walking through the park...]
Orbit: Been thinking about my moms lately.
Phantasm: Yeah? I thought about going across the river to say hi to mom and dad, but it'd just be weird considering why I'm in town and like, how my brain feels right now. My thoughts are too weird a flavor to visit Antarctica, man.
Purse: I'm taking my mom out to dinner as soon as Trios is over... and I'm taking Kari out as soon as we get back.
Phantasm: Why, what's up?
Purse: It's Mother's Day this weekend, man.
Phantasm: Ah, shit- I forgot. Now I gotta get something together for Crystal... something nice. Damn, I gotta think- oh, good lookin' out, though.
[Steve Orbit laughs.]
Orbit: Man, I ain't takin' any of my bitches anywhere except maybe the clinic.
[They laugh, then Polar suddenly has a revelation. He snaps up and makes a definitive statement.]
Phantasm: We need snowballs.
Orbit: Snowballs? In May? In Louisiana.
[They get up and follow, Polar already about 1/3 a block ahead of them and headed into the French Quarter. We cut to a few blocks away; the Phantasm steps up in line and places his order as Purse and Orbit inspect the plywood and paint-marker 'menu'.]
Phantasm: Yeah, lemme get a big Wedding Cake with condensed milk.
[Both Jeff and Steve laugh at Polar's order. He looks at them with a shrug.]
Phantasm: It was either Wedding Cake or Spearmint; I just went with my gut.
Orbit: Wedding Cake? How many fuckin' flavors they got back there?
[He peers behind the cashier to see a massive rack of syrup bottles; he watches as an attendant pours a clear syrup onto a cup filled with finely crushed ice, then pours from a can of PET condensed milk onto the concoction.]
Orbit: Damn, I think I'm gonna try the grape; be like eatin' a big ol' freeze pop.
Purse: I don't know- there's so many choices.
Phantasm: Here, Jeff, try this.
[Purse scoops a clump of creamy ice crumbles into his mouth; he immediately reacts.]
Purse: Damn, that is good- it's frosty and crunchy and creamy, and- yeah, almond- that actually tastes like a wedding cake.
Phantasm: I know, right?!
Orbit: Hey man, let me get a big Grape one; save the cream filling for the next man.
Purse: Yeah, let me get one like he got-
[Purse points at Polar, who sits at a plastic picnic bench contentedly eating his snowball. Soon Orbit joins him, then Purse; the three sit and eat their snowballs for a minute as the sun begins to set over the city.]
Phantasm: Sunset's coming- we'd better start heading toward Marrero.
[Orbit slurps a shot of syrupy deliciousness from the bottom of his cup. Purse winces noticeably at the sound.]
Purse: Ah, Jesus, that's like knives into my brain, man.
Orbit: Fuck it-
[He tosses his cup over Polar's head and into a trash barrel.]
Orbit: -nothin' but net. Let's do this, y'all.
-----------------------------------------
[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, the GEW Arena parking lot. We see a rental Audi pulling up to the arena; FPV gets out and heads toward the building carrying a duffel bag. As he passes the parking lot entrance, he notices a car cautiously angling into the parking lot; behind the wheel is the Phantasm, and his pupils are gigantic. Frank laughs as he sees Purse gazing out of the passenger side window in wonder at Bayou Segnette around them.]
FPV: They're fuuuucked up.
[He considers waiting for them and entering with them, but shrugs and heads inside alone. Meanwhile, back in the parking lot, Polar joins Orbit and Purse in staring at the cypress swamp surrounding the Arena. Polar takes a big whiff of swamp air.]
Phantasm: Smells like home to me.
Orbit: Smells like wet shit and alligators, man.
Purse: What do alligators smell like?
Phantasm: They probably stink pretty bad, now that you mention it.
[They head inside, laughing a bit at how alligators smell; their giggling is definitely chemically-induced.]
[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, the GEW Arena at ringside. We go to Boomer Brown, who opens the Madhouse show with a huge pop.]
Boomer Brown: Hello everyone, and welcome to GEW's Monday Maaaaadhoooouuussse!
[The crowd goes apeshit, then begins chanting 'GEW'.]
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
["Fuckin in the Bushes" by Oasis begins playing, signalling that the British Invasion are among us. Sir Robert Duncan appears from the curtain, followed closely by the smaller but quicker Richey Razorblade. They hold up the GEW Tag Team Titles as they head down to ringside; Razorblade slaps a few hands as a "YOU BOTH SUCK" chant comes from the back of the room. They enter the ring; SRD takes the mic, silencing the crowd with a gesture.]
SRD: We're here to tell you something, wot-
[The crowd boos.]
Crowd: YOU STILL SUCK! YOU STILL SUCK!
SRD: Piss off, you bloody hooligans!
[Sir Robert's thick Oklahoma accent shows through his terrible British affectation; the crowd continues booing the 'British Suplex Machine' with aplomb.]
SRD: Tonight, in this very ring, I will bring home the GEW World Title for Queen and Country-
["Through the Night" by Masahiko Arimatsu hits the speakers; the crowd quickly begins cheering as FPV charges through the curtain and storms the ring with a folding chair. Frank bends the folding chair over SRD's head, then begins trading punches with Richey Razorblade. Frank swings and misses; Razorblade catches him in a waist lock, which Frank quickly reverses. FPV delivers a massive Tiger Suplex to Richey, then springs up and turns his attention to the risen Robert Duncan. SRD waves for FPV to bring it; Frank brings him a superkick, and the crowd reacts appropriately.]
Crowd: BOOM! HEADSHOT!
[SRD flops to the mat like a sack of potatoes, then begins dragging himself up by the ropes. Frank looks to the crowd; they go crazy as he points to the timekeeper.]
Boomer Brown: Am I on? Fans- fans, I can't believe what we're seeing... FPV is taking apart the GEW Tag Team Champions by himself!
[Frank cinches up SRD, straining once before belly-to-belly suplexing the 280+ pound Duncan over the top rope and through the timekeeper's table.]
Boomer: OH MY GOD!
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
Boomer: It didn't take Frank Venable long to get used to how we do things in GEW- SRD folded up like pop-tarts at the bottom of a child's backpack! What does this do to tonight's main event World Title match? My guess, fans? My guess is Frank Venable saw something he wanted tonight and he took it- he sidelined the British Invasion, both of them, most likely- so he'd be free and clear to take a shot at Andy Warhawk himself here tonight. Fans, we've got a hell of a lineup for you tonight- aside from whatever happens with tonight's main event, we've also got Reptile defending the GEW Deathmatch Championship in a thumbtack match against Psychoholic, and later tonight we've got a special treat! Urban Decay will be trying to hold their own against not one, not two but THREE visiting superstars from WCF! Tonight, here on Madhouse, it's a six-man massacre; it's Urban Decay vs. Steve Orbit, Jeff Purse and the Polar Phantasm - WCF's Trios Cup Tournament team the Ice Cold Future Pimps!
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[Scene: Marrero, LA; more specifically, ringside at the GEW Arena. Ring Announcer Richard Vranch is in the ring with a microphone ready to start making introductions. "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin plays in the background as three members of Urban Decay mount the ramp and head toward the ring, sneering at the fans. Leading them is David Kellogg, known to GEW faithful as (former three-time World Champion) D-K; he wears a leather jacket over a Melvins T-shirt, flannel about his waist covering the top of his dirty jeans. Trailing him are the 265 pound 420 (wearing a Kottonmouth Kings t-shirt and a visor reading "#420-4-Life") and the 313 pound Freak (wearing a torn gray t-shirt under a pair of tattered overalls).]
Richard Vranch: First, entering the ring at this time, weighing in at a combined total of 827 pounds... URBAN DECAY!
[The crowd boos; a cup of beer hits D-K in the back of the head. He makes a point of ensuring that the fan is thrown out as he is vilified by the audience.]
Boomer: No love for D-K here from the GEW Arena audience; and why would they? He's the worst kind of trust-fund preppie turned gutter rat, and his band of merry idiots are even worse.
["Paradigm Shift" by Liquid Tension Experiment plays as the crowd goes crazy.]
Boomer: And here they are- the Future Elements and Steve Orbit!
[The curtain flies open to reveal the Polar Phantasm, eyes wide as all outside. Jeff and Steve follow close behind, gazing in wonder at the small but enthusiastic crowd of roughly 1400 people all snapping cameraphone pics and shouting 'WELCOME BACK' at them. After cautiously mounting the ramp, they enter the ring with a burst of speed and a trio of head-first slides. Polar leaps to the top turnbuckle, giving the crowd a bow; Orbit bounces from rope to rope, as if picking up speed for something. Purse inexplicably does a handstand, then walks on his hands for a few steps until Orbit's bounding causes him to roll out of it. Orbit stops running at this point, looking over at Urban Decay- he jumps into a 'crane kick' position before doubling himself over with laughter at their expressions.]
Boomer: And these three are certainly full of energy tonight-
[Freak tries to rush Steve Orbit, but the other Urban Decay members hold him back; D-K conferences with his people as Orbit leans back into his corner and watches them act out. Richard Vranch quickly abandons the ring, introductions unfinished; he has little choice, as D-K and Steve Orbit begin the match without instruction.]
Boomer: This match is already starting and we didn't even get introductions for the Ice Cold Future Pimps- though they hardly need introduction, even here in GEW. Wrestling fans the world over know these men- alright, we've got a test of strength here, D-K pressing his advantage... Orbit- Orbit going back with a full bridge here, arching at probably an unhealthy angle... and now he's pushing back! Orbit forcing D-K back into- no, knee to the gut- and there's a snap suplex to the former World Champ! D-K back up; gets an arm drag for his trouble; Orbit catches him on the rebound- side russian leg sweep takes D-K off his feet again! He's getting bounced like a basketball out there!
[Orbit helps D-K up, then whips him around and into the ropes behind him.]
Boomer: Irish whip- Orbit telegraphs the backdrop; SUNSET FLIP! D-K with a huge maneuver; 1 count only says Referee Daniel Kaye. Oh, and that's a bit much- D-K with a stomp for Orbit- ugh, and he blows his nose at him! Absolutely disgusting.
Crowd: YOU GROSS FUCK! YOU GROSS FUCK!
Boomer: The GEW Arena crowd is certainly giving it to David Kellogg for his disgusting- Orbit trips D-K by yanking his feet out from under him! And there's an STF from the Mack- textbook form, though he's gotta break it. D-K got to the bottom rope like his life depended on it, because it may have... at least life in this match, anyhow. D-K's gotten pretty close to his corner here, Orbit's trying to drag him back out but no go- there's the tag to the 313 pound Freak. And Freak clotheslines Steve Orbit into a full flip! Holy cats, what impact!
[Sure enough, Steve Orbit sells that clothesline like he needs the money for his mama's operation. Purse laughs, then realizes he shouldn't laugh at such things and just claps his hands to urge Orbit on; Polar tries to reach for a tag that only Stretch Armstrong could make.]
Boomer: And you see the Phantasm trying to reach Steve Orbit, but that's not happening; Freak spits at him, and I think got him in the shoulder. Irish whip... Orbit slides! Baseball slide to stop his momentum... and he leaps into his corner tagging the Future, Jeff Purse! Purse wasting no time, slingshots into the ring with a dropkick on Freak.
Crowd: TAKE A SHOWER! TAKE A SHOWER!
Boomer: Urban Decay continuing to get no end of trouble from the GEW Arena crowd; in the ring, meanwhile, Freak counters an arm wringer by just flipping Jeff Purse to the mat, then lands a huge splash onto the former WCF Champion- ugh, poor Jeff Purse. Even a non-germophobe would think that's a hellish fate. Freak dragging Purse by the hair now, come on- low blow! Purse goes downstairs and comes up big- and a DDT! The crowd comes alive now as Jeff Purse takes control- there's a tag to the Polar Phantasm, no stranger to GEW- what in the?! Total Elimination?!
[The Future Elements nearly split Freak in half with the combination leg sweep and roundhouse kick; Freak's head lands roughly on the mat. Polar dives in for a cover.]
Boomer: Cover by Phantasm- 2 count only, says Referee Daniel Kaye. As I said, Polar- or rather, Kid Phantasm- is one of the most well-known wrestlers to ever work for Global Extreme Wrestling; sadly, he was released by GEW due to a contract clause and a lost title shot. To think what could've been for this young man. Polar whips Freak into the corner; he doesn't even bounce out of the corner, he just slumps into it- perhaps Total Elimination gave him some head trauma. Polar rolls in with- yes! Senton splash slaps Freak across the face, and he rolls out of the ring in self-preservation.
[Steve Orbit digs under the ring and pulls out a table; the fans respond appropriately, increasing in volume by at least double. Polar and Orbit set the table; meanwhile, in the ring a wakening Freak and an ignored 420 take the fight to Jeff Purse.]
Boomer: Oh, look out Jeff Purse- power slam by 420! Now he's climbing the ropes- Freak's picking Purse up on his shoulders, this could be the end for the Ice Cold Future Pimps! Purse rolls it up- Purse rolled Freak up from atop his shoulders, and caused 420 to jump on his own face in the process! 2 count only, I think even Purse was stunned that that worked. Across the ring on the outside, D-K and Steve Orbit are back at it; Orbit pitches him into the ringpost, that'll quiet anybody down. I think Polar- yes, the Phantasm remembered his tag partner, he's back in the ring just in time to save Jeff Purse from a camel clutch from 420... irish whip, 420 sails in- and then gets tossed up and catches all the impact across the ribs, what strength by the Phantasm! From out of nowhere, Purse up top- OH MY GOD!
Crowd: G! E! W! G! E! W!
[Outside the ring, Jeff Purse lies in a blast of table chunks; there is no sight of his intended target, D-K. No, wait, there he is; hiding under the fucking ring.]
Boomer: Jeff Purse went for a top rope splash through the table D-K was laid out on, but apparently between taking that ringpost bump and Purse's flight D-K had enough time to make his move... to hide under the ring in the most cowardly manner possible. In the ring, Freak's got the Phantasm in a huge bear hug, that's gotta hurt; here comes Steve Orbit for the save, but D-K grabs his foot- revenge for earlier, perhaps- and that'll knock a tooth out every time, Orbit puts his boot right in D-K's chops! Orbit finally makes the save, but the Phantasm has taken the worst of it... PIMP SLAP! Freak gets his neck turned sideways with the impact- and a double suplex by Polar and Orbit! That'll be all, I'm sure- 420 breaks up the cover at 2, where did he come from? Speaking of- Jeff Purse flies in from nowhere, springboard sidekick takes 420 off his feet... he came from out of nowhere, last I saw he was outside the ring in a pile of table! SPOKE! Purse hits the Spoke on Freak, and it takes him clear out of the ring! Orbit with a baseball slide, D-K's clear of the ring- this looks like the end for Mr. 420! Polar cinches him up- OCEAN CYCLONE SUPLEX, beautiful- and here comes Purse- DEFLATOR! It's gotta be over- there's the 3.
Richard Vranch: Your winning team... STEVE ORBIT, JEFF PURSE AND THE POLAR PHANTASM!
Boomer: And if that wasn't enough show for you, fans... next up we've got Andy Warhawk and Frank Venable for the GEW WORLD TITLE.
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(To be continued in the match-unrelevant (like any of this wasn't?) POLAR PHANTASM (volume 4) #5, "Venable II - The Adventure of Frank".)
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2016. Steve Orbit appears courtesy of Oakland, California, USA. Frank Venable appears courtesy of Akihabara Prefecture, Tokyo, Japan. Boomer Brown appears courtesy of Global Extreme Wrestling. The views and practices of Lucien Hicks are not those of the Wrestling Championship Federation or any of its sponsors or affiliates; all rights reserved.]
Win-loss record: fairly epic
