SLAMTRACK 3: Ikan Jobtayoo v. The Second Coming

[brusch]

Match for 12th Spot in Red Crown Tournament

Roleplaying thread for Ikan Jobtayoo v. The Second Coming

1000-word roleplay limit
No stacking allowed whatsoever

Roleplay deadline is Wednesday, September 24 at 11:59pm Red Line time

 

[The Second Coming]

Equations

I stared at the page in front of me.

Simplify sqrt(–25).

Simplify sqrt(–18).

Simplify –sqrt(–6).


Simple. All of it was incredibly simple.

I shouldn’t say that. It’s uncomplicated, not necessarily simple. But I’ve gotten straight A’s since the first grade, and math came pretty easily to me. I take it that makes me one of about seven people currently studying math who gets it.

But I’m distracted. I’ve got AP algebra in front of me, and my brain is focused on Chicago and Ikan Jobtayoo, my opponent next week in my debut match for the Red Line.

Calculating the saturation of this company online against the likelihood of people outside of the Chicago Area who would care about a Chicago – based indie promotion, I would say one other person in this room, statistically, saw my on-screen debut last weekend.

If they did, and if they knew it was me, they’re not telling.

My parents, and everyone around me growing up, would always talk about the rush they get from performing in front of a crowd. They would always talk about how they are full of energy during their performance, and completely drained afterwards.

Shoot, my mom was onstage for nearly four hours last New Year’s and never stopped moving. Soon as we got home she slept for twelve hours.

I’ve wrestled three matches in my career, and I get it – though I guess my age has something to do with the fact that I didn’t crash immediately afterward.

Just being out there last week, I didn’t do anything and I still got the rush.

This is the life for me.

I only wish I could share it with the people closest to me.

“MJ,” said my best friend Jacy next to me, “Do you understand this at all?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “Fake it ‘till the bell rings, and we’ll go over it tonight.”

“Hey,” said my boyfriend Russell from behind me, “I thought we had a date tonight.”

Shit, I said to myself. This is how it starts. Eventually I’d end up like my aunt, over-caffeinated and overextended, and unlike her, unable to adjust.

“I thought you had practice after school,” I whispered to Russell, “and that I’d see you later.”

“Okay,” said Russell, and he quieted.

I think our relationship is nearly through. I see now what comedian Jim Norton was talking about when he did his Unmasked interview. Russell is a good guy, he’s on the football team, he’s popular, he takes his studies seriously and he’s been cool with me and very accepting of the fact that my parents are both global celebrities, but he also seems to have an expectation that I’ll be his little cheerleader hanging on his every word and letting him be the center of attention.

Sorry, dear.

Homecoming is imminent, and I know he wants me to be there cheering him on.

Unfortunately, I’ve got a date with Ikan Jobtayoo, and that’s one I can’t break. Nothing that I’ve ever done has ever made me feel as alive as being inside the ring.

Russell is a good guy, but he wouldn’t get it.

Which means we have an expiration date.

So it goes.

 

[brusch]

Re: Equations

"A second chance! Da, it's what we haff HOPED for!"

(Ikan Jobtayoo, arms crossed, stands beside his large cousin Ukan Jobtamee, burlier arms crossed in a burlier fashion. They stand before the Red Line Green Screen as Barry does his darndest to have cinematic animations of polar bears wrestling grizzly bears in front of the Kremlin.)

Ikan
I have ALL of the angers for the Kangarrys and the Koalases for the RUDE interruption of mine first opportunities! I be working the HARDEST on my fine wrestlinker form for many fortnights to prove my improvements! But no bothers - the past, it is in the past, and now I look to mine very unique opponent, The Comings of Second! Very good, I hear! Barring the kangaroos, I firmly belieff that you and I can have GREAT wrestlinks together in the SLAMTRACKS Thr-

(There's a commotion off camera. Metal chair legs scrape against tile; a previously unseen Harry Balkin Jr shouts, "Hey, watch where-!" before the smack of flesh on flesh silences him; and a bellow of rage precedes a blur that flies into the camera shot, pushing Ikan forward and knocking Ukan out of the way.)

(The assailant puts his Nike Air Max 90s to work on Ikan, stomping away at his arm, shoulder, and head. Ukan gets to his feet but is sent back down to the floor after a heavy-looking CVS canvas tote whacks him in the temple! The bag gets spiked to the floor, packages of red Solo cups and canisters of Axe body spray go rolling out of sight, and Ikan is yanked to a vertical base.)

???
YOU WANNA TALK THAT RUSSIAN PROPAGANDA SHIT?! YOU GO DO THAT IN SKOKIE, COMRADE!

(Ikan is lifted into the air, perpendicular to the ground, and then gets PLANTED with a sit-out gourdbuster. The newcomer gets to his feet, brushes his blue and white checkered shorts off, and glares at the camera. Barry the Intern takes two cautious steps backwards.)

???
RED. LINE. WRESTLING.

(Chest heaves. One breath. Two. Three.)

???
I have been SITTING in the back of this PATHETIC CENTER of BIG LEAST MEDIOCRITY for the past TWO WEEKS, WAITING for this JOKE of a "PROMOTER" to call my number and give me MY TIME to SHINE. And what did I hear instead? WHAT WAS MY REWARD? Another whiny mic spot from two dudes who aren't fit to CARRY MY GYM BAG DOWN TO XSPORT.

(Ukan starts to stir. He gets punted in the head. The camera finally gets a good look at the speaker's shirt: a royal blue soccer-style tee with "LET'S GET READY TO STUMBLE! | WRIGLEYVILLE" in navy blue lettering.)

???
Well, I ain't waitin' for DANNY DALTON to get his head out from between this MYSTERY OWNER'S ASS CHEEKS any longer. "WRIGLEYVILLE'S FINEST" Johnny Dorn's done playing sixth fiddle to a bunch of EX-PATS, a HAS-BEEN father and a NEVER-WAS son, and a SNORE FEST from MASS-AHOLE-SETTS. Although, Bookface, you're aight. Let's go hit up THE GOOSE later, ya feel me, bro?

(Johnny Dorn bends down and starts gathering up the cups and body spray that got away from the bag.)

Johnny Dorn
SLAMTRACK THREE is MY SHOW. MY TIME. The sooner all you JACKHOLES realize that the-

(Something to his left catches his eye.)

Johnny Dorn
Oh shit.

(Dorn makes a hasty exit to the right as FAFNIR and Harry Balkin Jr. barrel into the frame.)

(FTB....??????)