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AGGRESSION 69: Mojo Massey & Akita v. Aaron Jones & Malcolm Joseph-Jones


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
<i>(We fade in on the main room of the gym that is no doubt becoming familiar to the viewers of Aaron Jones’ promos. The sounds of other patrons working out and training in the ring can be heard in the background, but the camera is aimed at a wall, on which is mounted a sizable whiteboard covered with brackets that are, from this distance, largely illegible. Aaron Jones stands in front of the whiteboard)</i>

<b>Aaron Jones:</b> It seems my days of introducing myself to everyone in EPW are far from over.

For the last few months, I’ve tried to familiarize myself with the other members of the roster, and I’ve tried to help them familiarize themselves with me. I was no stranger to the locker room, of course, but because of how I acted and who I associated myself with, I didn’t really get to know the other wrestlers, and they didn’t really get to know me.

I hope I did an OK job. I had a few matches, got eliminated first in a seven-man free-for-all at Russian Roulette, learned as much as I could.

But now I’m part of the King of the Cage tournament, and I suddenly find myself in the company of people who’ve never set foot in an EPW ring.

Now I’ve got to do a whole new round of introductions – to Mojo Massey, to Akita and to my own tag team partner, Malcolm Joseph-Jones.

And if I’m to have any hope of making some headway into this tournament, I’ve got to familiarize myself with a lot of new people, and fast.

That’s why the guys at the gym drew up this whiteboard for me. They figured it would help me keep track, and it’s been useful so far.

One night, after everybody had gone home, a guy filled in all the brackets taking my team all the way to the finals. A couple of the other guys thought that was pretty funny.

My favorite part is the constantly changing team names that they have for me – it pretty much gets erased and rewritten every time somebody comes up with a new one.

If you ask me, the best so far has been “No Relation.”

But I’ve come to understand that it might be stupid to assign a name to my team. After all, my partner doesn’t exactly have a reputation as a team player.

From what I hear, he’s pretty much the polar opposite.

He’s definitely got size and athletic ability going for him, both of which are big pluses – especially the former, where I’m not much help.

Word has it, though, that he’s not a guy you want for your tag team partner. And my own problems with sustaining offense aren’t likely to endear me to him.

Still, I know more about Malcolm Joseph-Jones than I do about either of our opponents.

Last I heard, Mojo Massey was a backstage reporter for EPW without much ring experience to speak of. But people change their career paths – I would know – so there could very well be more to him than I realize.

Akita might be Akita Hoshi. Or he might not be. I certainly know who Akita Hoshi is, but I haven’t been able to get a straight answer as to whether he is the Akita we’ll be facing.

It will be hard to address my opponents before I know anything about them.

But I know about Malcolm Joseph-Jones. I know about his ability, and I know about his attitude.

Malcolm, I realize I’m probably not the partner you were hoping for. I don’t have an impressive win-loss record. I’m still learning a lot of the things I need to know to be a success in this business.

I can see how that might not appeal to you. If you choose not to support me, I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll understand.

But you have an opportunity here.

The odds are against my advancing far in this tournament. Right now, our match is one of the least anticipated of the entire line-up.

All eyes are on Animezing Dragons, Rezin, Anarky, the First, Sean Stevens, Impulse, Cameron Cruise. If they advance through the tournament, no one will be surprised.

If we advance?

People will notice.

From what I hear, you like to have the world’s eyes on you, Malcolm. And the further you can take an undersized, relatively inexperienced tag team partner through those ranks, the more eyes will be on you.

There’s a lot of room between here…

<i>(He points to the left side of the bracket)</i>

<b>Jones:</b> … And here.

<i>(He points to the right side)</i>

<b>Jones:</b> It’s up to you how you use that space.

Think about it.

<i>(Jones walks toward the camera and, finally, past it. As he goes around the other side, it zooms in on the brackets, it focuses on the bracket opposite Mojo Massey & Akita, which right now reads “JONESTOWN.” A second later, the camera switches off, cutting to black)</i>


Main Event Caliber
Apr 16, 2012
St. Louis, MO
"Y'all bitches is kiddin' me, right? Are you serious right now?"

(The camera opens to a hulking adonis of a man, Malcolm Joseph-Jones. His back is to the viewer, though he appears to be wearing simple gray slacks, a white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and purple suspenders. Muscles seem to be pouring out of him. There are large EPW banners strewn across the background, and he is facing a large television screen, paused with a still-speaking image of his brand-new tag team partner, Aaron Jones. Malcolm is unimpressed.)

MJ2: "My first mothafuckin' match in EPW, and y'all pair me together with this...kid?!"

(Malcolm turns towards the camera with an incredulous look on his face. He sports oddly stylish browline glasses and a close-cropped Van Dyke beard on his face.)

MJ2: "I get it - this ain't the first time. This is the kind of shit I've been dealing with all my life; people in charge see me and they see the kind of physical freak I am, and they say 'Hey, we scared of that guy, don't let HIM succeed'. Pisses me right the hell off.

High school? I dominate everyone in every sport, and what happens? They be scared. They blackball me and push me into some D3 shithole and expect me to go away. I go there, and I dominate everyone even harder. What happens? Doors keep gettin' shut in my face.

I finally found something where I THOUGHT a man of my God-given physical tools and abilities would get a LITTLE respect, and what happens? I get fuckin' paired with a shrimp, a guy who probably couldn't bench press my lunch."

(Malcolm sneers and shakes his head as he turns back around towards the screen. He presses Play on the machine as Aaron goes through his speech for EPW: King of the Cage.)

MJ2: "You're goddamn right I don't have a reputation as a team player. You know why that is, Little Aaron?

Every teammate I've had couldn't hang with me.

They don't got what I got. They don't have that extra gear that winners have, and baby, let me tell you - it is fuckin' lonely up here at the top.

Do you even have a win? God damn. Fuckin' hell, man. I'm going to give you some hard knowledge right this second, and you better imprint this into that little head of yours:

First. The world's eyes WILL be on me. You think I crave the spotlight? Nah, son - the spotlight craves me. I'm going to go into that steel cage and show Mojo Massey and Akita what fuckin' happens when the establishment tries to keep an empowered man down.

Second, and this especially pertains to you. You sound like a smart kid. You're trying to learn and find your way in this shark tank. Let this be your first REAL goddamn lesson: if you get pinned, or if you tap out, I WILL make an example out of you in front of all God's green Earth, and I don't care the personal outcome after that. I came to EPW because they need that fresh blood to dominate the hell out of it, and that's what I plan to do. The gold, sucka. That's the only outcome I will accept out of this tag team partnership. I am NOT just your fuckin' meal ticket through this thing. So, if you aren't ready to bring it EVERY time? GET READY."

(Malcolm cracks his knuckles and takes a deep breath, smirking and speaking more quietly to himself.)

MJ2: "I'm going to build somethin' here. This is the chance to finally break through that wall.

Mojo and Akita, I'd tell you to get ready too, but the fact of the matter is it don't matter HOW much you think you're ready. I am the story of this match. I am the mothafuckin' house-clearing ass-kicking machine, and there's nothin' y'all can do about it. The best advice I can give? Don't let anyone you love watch Aggression 69.

I'm out."

(Malcolm struts off screen as the camera fades to black.)
Apr 16, 2012

Ladies and gentlemen, Inuit Productions and the Trig Palin Rotisserie Baseball League are proud to present.....


Two miles from absolutely no one, or anyone, under the cover of the most well-built igloo of this or any generation, stands Akita, the Telepathic Ventriloquist. He doesn't look at you though. OH NO. Rather, he looks at a pristine ventriloquist dummy of PRISTINE Swiss workmanship, with piercing blue eyes and glistening skin. Is it even wood? Who can predict the Swiss? All we really can ascertain is that those piercing blue eyes are piercing through you, the viewer, through the lens of a very cold video camera.

Akita, our hero, stares hard at the dummy, which stares hard at the camera, placing his thumb and forefinger on his cheek and temple, respectively.

You barely have time to register this, however, as reality begins to fade in front of you, and images start to appear in your mind.

Before you is spread out a Thanksgiving dinner at some moment in the distant past. The brothers Aaron Jones and Malcolm Joseph-Jones are there with their mother, Star. "Mom, why do you get both turkey legs??", Malcolm asks, although even as you perceive this scene, something tells you it may not be exactly... real.

Suddenly, faster than you can register, many scenes flash before your eyes in rapid succession....

Aaron Jones fucking a goat.

Malcolm Joseph-Jones furiously masturbating to Gilbert Gottfried standup.

Aaron Jones fucking a goat.

Malcolm Joseph-Jones going down on a transsexual.

Aaron Jones fucking a goat.

Aaron Jones really likes goats.

Finally we see an image of Aaron Jones and Malcolm Joseph-Jones laying in a wrestling ring, unconscious, while Akita stands with a foot on each man's chest, arms raised in a V, while the dead lay in pools of maroon below.





And Akita turns, and looks at the camera and in your head you hear, see, feel a sentence form...

"I think I made my point."



League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Re: .

<i>(We fade in on a bar booth, looking to be situated in a back corner. Though it doesn’t look like someplace you’d worry about getting stabbed, the condition of the table and walls indicate the bar has likely seen better days. Aaron Jones sits opposite the camera)</i>

<b>Aaron Jones:</b> Malcolm, I feel like you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot.

So here’s my shot at setting the record straight.

When I talked to you before, I kept coming back to the point that you’re not known for being a team player. Now, I’m not going to take back that point, because I think we both know it’s true.

I talked to some of the guys at the gym where I train – some guys who have experience in team sports – and they brought me here to talk to me a little about teamwork.

They had some pointers for me on encouraging team play, that sort of thing. But eventually, I came to realize the issue isn’t you. It’s me.

I think I need to give you a better idea of who I am.

I’m concerned that, from what you’ve seen of me, you might think me to be a model team player. I can understand why; I certainly didn’t say anything about myself in that regard.

On top of that, there’s the fact – which both you and I acknowledge – that you’re going to have to do most of the heavy lifting come Aggression 69. You might think, and I wouldn’t blame you, that I intend to take the team thing very seriously, because I need all the help I can get.

The thing is, Malcolm, I’m not that great of a team player either.

I don’t have anything against it; I’m just out of practice.

I mean, you have a lot of experience being part of teams, even if you hated it. Me? Well, let’s just say I didn’t play a lot of sports in high school.

You know what sport I was in? Cross country. It’s a team sport, but it’s not quite the collaborative effort that basketball or football is. And I didn’t even make varsity until my senior year.

In wrestling, I don’t know a lot about team play either. At this stage in the game, I don’t exactly have guys lining up to tag with me – thus my entry into King of the Cage as a lottery competitor, rather than a member of an established team.

Heck, the only alliance I’ve known in this business was with Copycat. And that ended with him betraying me, admitting he was using me all along and then LitterBombing me in the middle of the ring.

It’s not the best track record. I’d like to improve it, but who knows how easy a task that will be.

In this tournament, we’ve got to work together on some level. You’re not good at it; I’m not good at it. That’s what we’ve got to face.

But we’re both looking to make as big an impact as possible. We’re both trying to pick up our first victory in EPW – even though this is your first shot at it and I’ve had … let’s just say “several” chances.

Most of all, we both want redemption. Me for the awful things I did working for Copycat, you to send a message to everyone who said you wouldn’t succeed if you didn’t learn how to cooperate.

Now, I can get why you’re a little upset about this arrangement. You’ve spent your whole life saying there’s nobody on your level, and in your first match in EPW, you’re partnered up with the one guy who’s not going to try to claim he is. You can say you’re better than me, but no one’s going to argue, and it’s just not as much fun claiming to be the best if no one’s going to try to prove you wrong.

I even get the threats. If we lose, there’s a pretty solid chance that I’m going to be the one pinned. If that happens, and you feel the urge to take it out on me, there’s not too much I can do about that.

You can beat me down, but I’ll get back up. Our opponents can beat me down, but I’ll get back up.

I can’t guarantee I’ll win. I can’t guarantee I’m ready. But if you’re worried about me bringing it every time…

Let me be clear.

I might need you to <i>win</i> this match against Mojo Massey and Akita.

But I don’t need you to <i>fight</i> it.

You can walk out as soon as that bell rings, and I’ll hang out between those ropes until that two-on-one advantage overtakes me – or until a miracle happens.

That’s what I’m prepared to do every time I step in the ring.

Maybe that’s good enough for you. Maybe it’s not.

But it’s what I’ve got.

And if you want to have any chance of winning this tournament, you’d best learn to work with it.

<i>(Jones moves to turn off the camera, but stops short when he hears a commotion from offscreen and looks over to his left)</i>

<b>Voice from offscreen:</b> Hey Jones! You gotta come see this!

<b>Jones:</b> What? You geniuses come up with another hilarious team name?

<b>Different voice from offscreen:</b> No, man! One of your opponents in the King of the Cage made a Flash animation with you and your partner in it! This thing is a masterpiece!

<b>Jones:</b> Flash? Who still uses Flash?

<b>First voice from offscreen:</b> This guy does. And the only thing he loves more than Flash is goats, and maybe Pearl Jam.

<i>(That comment gets an explosion of laughter from offscreen)</i>

<b>Jones:</b> All right, but if you morons Rickroll me one more damn time…

<i>(Jones reaches over and switches off the camera, cutting things abruptly to black)</i>


Main Event Caliber
Apr 16, 2012
St. Louis, MO
Re: .

"I was wondering which one of you two was going to be my personal bitch in this matchup. Glad you decided to volunteer."

(The camera opens up to Malcolm Joseph-Jones in a Gold's Gym. He is sitting on a bench curling huge freeweights in a white wifebeater, electric purple gym shorts, and protective eye-goggles. If possible, he looks even more muscular than he did in his dress shirt. His general dampness seems to indicate he's been working out for quite a bit before the camera began to roll. Continuing to curl weights, he speaks.)

MJ2: "Aaron, you say you're a fighting' man? A man who's gonna step up? Word. That's a start. Forgive me for having my doubts that a dude half my size who looks like he just won third place in a chess club tournament last week deserves to even carry my jock, but until you follow through on your damn word, those are just empty promises you're throwin' my way. I'll believe it when I see it.

I gave you your first lesson earlier. Here's your first homework assignment:

I want you to go to Home Depot or any other fuckin' hardware store they got in San Diego, and I want you to buy a hammer. Or a crowbar, or a wrench - whatever the hell you can carry with your skinny-ass poodle arms that's hard and whatever you can afford to get with the money they give you for being the bottom rung of EPW. And I want you to bring it with you to Aggression 69.

I'm putting you on Dummy Duty. You ever heard of Dummy Duty? No? Here's what Dummy Duty is: if that piece of shit joke of a competitor Akita decides to bring his little wooden buddy with him to the cage, I want you to take that dummy, and I want you to smash the motherfuck out of it. Over and over. When you're done, I want to be able to put pieces of him in a box and have a month-long supply of toothpicks.

While you got that goin' on, I'm going to slap on my Literati hold on Mr. Malcolm's-New-Bitch himself, Akita. I'm going wrench that sucker in. And I'm not letting go until I hear one thing:

Ding. Ding. Ding."

(Malcolm puts down the weights and grabs a towel, wiping the sweat off his brow. Sipping from a bottle of purple Gatorade, he begins to walk over to the gym's wall-sized mirror. En route, he continues to speak.)

MJ2: "I am the most honest man in this match right here. I'm going to tell you right now how this motherfuckin' thing is going to go down. The Physical Freak and his Happy Meal Partner are going to humiliate a clown in the middle of that ring. I'm going to choke the air outcha lungs, Akita. Little Aaron's going to destroy your little toy right in front of you. Mojo is going to panic and try to get me offa you, but I won't let go. You're going to go like this:"

(Malcolm turns to the camera and opens his mouth wide; a comically pained, completely silent expression spreads across his face for a moment, before he resets and stares at the camera hard.)

MJ2: "…which is Jackass Ventriloquist Speak for 'HELLLLLP!' And then you're going to collapse into the wet bag of shit you already are. Maybe you'll be a little wetter if you forget to take a piss before the match. The timer's bell will be your sweet, sweet release…

…If I decide to let you go right away."

(Malcolm has reached the wall-sized mirrors and begins to pose and flex, admiring the thousands of hours he's poured into his chiseled physique. Passers-by look at him with a mix of surprise and amusement as this caricature of an athlete strokes his impossibly large ego.)

MJ2: "This is my coming out party, Aaron. Don't get in my way. You're on Dummy Duty, and your job is to not fuck up. Think you can handle it?

I think so. Here's why:

You don't need to be scared of Mojo, Akita, his fuckin' dummy, Rezin, Boogie Smallz, Sean Stevens, even The First. They'll fight you, but you'll eventually get up like you said, because you're too dumb to know better at this point in your life. The one man you NEED to be scared of is me. They can do whatever they want to you in the ring, but at the end of the day, they're just looking for a W.

But I'm different...I'm buildin' somethin' here, sucka. And if you do something to fuck that up, I WILL put you down.

But you already know that, don'tcha?"

(Malcolm grins and winks to the camera.)

MJ2: "See you bitches in the cage."

(Malcolm heads towards the showers as the camera fades to black.)

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