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Fanatic v Jones


Jan 1, 2000
San Francisco, CA
Actions and Consequences.

* Fanatic RP for C04.



We are immediately thrust upon the sight of a stark white room, bright lights shining against the lens, whiting out all but a few things. One is Fanatic, who is oddly hanging by his wrists. They are tied to a rope that has been secured to the ceiling. Alarmingly, his bodysuit has been shredded in various spots, although his black mask with the golden etched ‘infinity’ insignia remains untouched. Red, swollen spots are seen in places where the costume is torn, and his masked head hangs with his chin near his chest.

Standing behind Fanatic is Larry Tact. He has on a pair of khaki pants and a black button-down shirt that is unbuttoned, showing his toned, tanned torso. He is not wearing a belt because it is currently in his hands. He walks around and tugs it taut, then rears back and, without hesitation…




Tact lays into Fanatic, holding nothing back. He halts to wipe a few beads of sweat from his brow, and looks like he is taking no pleasure in what he does. However, it looks possessed with his task-- intense, focused on results only he is aware of.

LARRY TACT: “You knew what we discussed going in, and you agreed, yes?”

Fanatic, with a couple of hacking coughs, nods.

“Well it seems you must have had a lapse in memory, then! Because two weeks ago, you allowed that PARIAH of New ERA, the so-called “most Entertaining man in New Era,” to walk right over you. Pathetic.”




“I expect… no, no… I DEMAND BETTER from my pupils. And for my brother to allow that man to now be able to liberally proclaim he IS the New Era? To let him open the door to that?!”



“You knew the consequences, isn’t that right?”

Fanatic nods.

“And STILL…”


“You allowed him to win!”



Both breath heavily as Tact walks back around Fanatic. His gaze momentarily flickers to the camera, and his eyebrow furrows. He leans in towards Fanatic’s ear.

“You understand.”

Fanatic nods.

“This lapse will not be repeated.”

Fanatic nods, coughing again.

“For now, I will trust you on that… because you have done well, otherwise.”

He leans back and places the belt over Fanatic’s shoulders. Then he stands in front of Fanatic, looking directly at us.

“I told you not to turn the camera on until I said to.”

The cameraman holds up a hand towards Tact, in a pleading gesture.

“Save it. Don’t even say a word. I said you could stay until I was ready for you, but obviously… you don’t take direction very well. Do you know exactly what I can have done to you?”

The cameraman waves his hand a bit hurriedly in the air. Tact looks back for a moment, then chuckles.

“No, I wouldn’t waste my effort doing that. You aren’t worth my caring beyond making a phone call. But I could just pick up the phone and have you fired in about ten seconds. Because unlike Mr. Entertainment… I EARNED the right to be the standard bearer of New Era. I earned the right to be respected. I was winning the only Championship that still matters here before he had even decided to take a chance of dipping his little toe in the shark pool.”

“And that is what I am grooming Fanatic for. It’s true, he disappointed me two weeks ago… and he knew what would happen if he did that. He knew the consequences.”

Reaching off screen, he grabs and holds up a contract of some sort.

“These are the terms of our business partnership. Some time ago, Fanatic reviewed and understood the agreement, and what it entailed. He was ready to take up the challenge, so I don’t want to hear anyone complaining about what is going on here.“

He tosses the contract back onto where it was.

“And really, this is child’s play. Like I’ve said… Fanatic has waged wars with monsters. He has experienced and survived battles most of you would not. Don’t judge him on your level, because in all likelihood… he is beyond it. I may have been disappointed, but my faith was not wavered. This is a special young man with a talent that has yet to be fully realized.”

“Last week, we saw how true my words became. Fanatic came right back and dominated Roslov the Ruskie. And he so thoroughly accomplished the task, that in the end, Roslov willingly lost the match. Just as I said he would. And then, he paid the price for his actions against my brother. His star was Broken… and once the Craze found him… well. It may be some time before Roslov will want to face off against Fanatic… and maybe any of New Era… again.”

He looks down and curses in disgust. Touching a thumb to his lips, he tries wiping a spot on the knee of his khaki pants. It seems some blood stained the pants. Stopping, he curses again, then returns his attention forward.

“Stacey Jones, this is an unfortunate week for you.”

“I hear you talk a decent game. You seem to understand a few core concepts about the business. Your name, “Adaptation By Perfection,” tells me you might know something about how to make it, too. But don’t think you can just go by your routine, this week. Because… how do you adapt to someone who is constantly changing the game?

“The problem with many big time wrestlers is that they enjoy their routine. They like to get their Big Moves in and set up their finishers. They enjoy a pattern of sequences that tell them that they are heading down a road to victory. It’s not necessarily a bad way of operating, obviously it has a degree of success, mostly because people continuously get into the habit of it.”

“Fanatic isn’t so predictable. In fact, he is the antithesis of routine and habit. Fanatic doesn’t need a routine to feel comfortable with, or certain sequences to let him know he’s on the right track in a match. He takes what comes to him, and he creates the situation that suits him. He THRIVES on risk, and counts on nothing to be there for him to take.“

“There’s a reason he’s called the Elite Enigma, after all.”

Stepping to the side, we are shown Fanatic again. He is now standing, apparently having freed himself of his bonds, holding the belt in hand.

“And don’t let this sight fool you. He will be ready to face you at Cyberstrike. While I personally find women competing with men to be mostly ridiculous, with a very few exceptions… my brother takes things very much in stride. He will give equal treatment to all opposition, and let no one slip by his watch.“

“To put it simply… I’ve found that Fanatic isn’t so merciful as me. Think that over while you pump iron and do your routine.”

“And then, when you step into the ring, be ready for that routine to be shattered.”

“Fanatic will show you what adaptation to perfection is… done right.”

“Now, I’ve got a quick phone call to make…”

Fanatic hands Tact the belt, and he leaves the frame. The camera shot shakes around, and we hear a scuffling sound that could be the cameraman in distress. He finally lowers the camera to the ground and leaves it there, seemingly scurrying off after Tact.

A few seconds later, the camera moves again. The Elite Enigma holds the camera up and facing him. The lights contrast sharply against the black of his mask, and the shot is zoomed out enough to leave some raw wounds on his chest in view, while his stare bores down on the camera for a few long moments. We hear Fanatic‘s breath, slow and steady, deep and full with each intake and exhale.

He tilts his head slightly to one side, and his shoulders begin shuddering. It is as if he is laughing, except… not a sound comes from him, aside from his breaths.


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