Face Time (o2a)

[Mr. Smith]

The scene was Fort Bragg, the base to one of the readiest battalions in the entire US Army. On this day, the cameras of the XWA were rolling for their special Tribute To The Troops show. The area was packed with the men and women in uniform, those who chose to defend the American way of life, liberty or thereabouts for that matter.

{Matt Goldman}
Hello everyone, and welcome to a special XWA event. Today, we come to you live from Fort Bragg for the XWA's Tribute To The Troops.

{Buzz Berman}
The ring is surrounded by over 10,000 of our troops, and tonight they get to be treated firsthand to the best and brightest of the XWA. What's even more, this here is a sneak preview so to speak, for the upcoming season!

{Goldman}
The year of change. A new era in the history of the XWA, and it all starts here!

And how does is start, you ask? The arrival of one of the company's illustrious champions? One of their decorated superstars? One of their highly touted Xtraordinaires? Even the President of the company or the elusive GM?

None of the above.

Instead, Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" begins to play over the PA system, and to the (not so much a) surprise of the soldiers, a Jeep rolls onto the scene. However, who's in the Jeep is a bit of a surprise. It's...

{Goldman}
That music there is the theme if you will of one of the new faces of the XWA, one Mr. John Smith.

{Berman}
Well, he said he'd be here, and sure enough he is! But what kind of entrance is this? I think he's trying too hard.

The entrance Mr. Berman is speaking of is Smith dressed in some army fatigues in the backseat of the Jeep being driven by one of the nation's finest. In his hands if Old Glory, as he waves it proudly to the crowd with a Cheshire cat grin.

{Goldman}
I concur.

To some particularly patriotic fans in attendance, he got a decent response, but as the cameras shift to the faces of a few of these soldiers, the look on them, and the words coming out of their mouths are "what is wrong with this guy?"

He hops out of the Jeep as it reached ringside, still with a huge grin on his lips as he starts to shake the hands of a few of the soldiers on his way to the ring. With his free hand that is. The other is still firmly grasping the Stars & Stripes.

Climbing up the stairs to the apron, the next moment was almost like it was on cue or something. He steps into the ring, and walks to the center, pointing up to the skies as a few F-14's speed across the skies, leaving in their path trails of red, white and blue. It was like the beginning of your typical outdoor sporting event. All you needed was a chart-topping songstress to sing the national anthem.

Setting the flag in a corner, Smith called for a microphone. Finally, the time had come.

Helloooooooooo America! It is I...John Smith. THE John Smith. It seems only fitting that here, among these men and women who stand for the red,white & blue, that this ring be graced by the man who bring grace back to this fair business.

Tonight, the XWA pays tribute...to you. The men and women of the armed forces. You put it all on the line each and every day you're deployed. You are, as I've said before...the finest fighting force in the world. So it should be an honor...and privilege for you all to be the first to witness the finest wrestling force in the world.

{Goldman}
Well, he's got "confidence", you can say that much.

Now, there's one little thing about tonight that's gotten a lot of people wondering. We're competing tonight, but we have no idea who we're actually competing against. All I know is that I'm going to be in this ring against 3 other XWA Superstars. Well, let me be the first to say that it doesn't matter who those three men are, because whoever you are, you're looking at the man who's going to defeat you.

Now I know you're wondering why and how I can be so damn sure of that. The answer is simple, because I am. Yes. I. Am.

{Goldman}
Excuse me?

I'm a man's man. A thinking man. A man of strong actions, and you'll see exactly how strong those actions are soon enough. You're idea of wrestling is what? High flying acrobatics? Sheer brutality? Technical prowess? No, no, no, no, no!!! You see, of all the muscles one can use in this ring, I used the one that matters the most. The one that all the rest of these neanderthals shunned the first time they stepped in a gym!

(pointing to his head)

Right here. This is going to see me victorious more often than not, and for starters, it gave me the intuition to do my homework on my quote-unquote "competition". I can say with all confidence that I am reading, willing and able to take on any wrestler, any style, and win.

See, ladies and gentlemen...in many ways, I'm a whole lot like you. Ready for action. Unrelentingly efficient. And what's the most important, I get the job done. So, soldiers...I ask of you one thing tonight. To sit back and enjoy what you're going to see. The birth of a new "American Icon".

John Smith. Man...of Integrity.

John's boastfulness was getting more jeers than cheers by the time his gums finally finished flapping. It looked though that someone else on the roster had something to say themselves. Another them begins to play, breaking Smith's "hands on the hips" moment.

[Kenji Katana]

The man in question was Kenji Katana. After recently being kidnapped and almost beat to death with a tire iron, by the two men in this world who he has personally killed someone close to, he had a new look on life. Fuck everybody but himself. These troops? They could go to hell. He didn't give a fuck about them defending his country, he only cared about himself. The man was now truely a narcissist. Now, back to reality. As his custom theme begins to play, Kenji steps out of the tent where the superstars come out from, mic in hand. He looks around at the troops before saying...

Shut up.

The boos were deafening. Somehow, the boos of hundreds of troops was enough to drown out the sound of a couple of jets flying overhead. Well, to Kenji anyways.

You talk about using your brain? If you were actually that smart, you would've stayed behind your desk and not have come here. What would you do in the case that, I came down there and broke your neck right now? Not only would you not be able to manage your business as successfully, but you wouldn't be able to wrestle tonight. Now, do you see what I'm saying Mr. Smith? I advise you, after tonight, to go back home to wherever you're from, and sit behind your desk, and enjoy your life.

Without...
Getting...
Hurt...

The boos were once again deafening. He didn't care, he just stodd there calmly awaiting Mr. Smith's Response.

[Mr. Smith]

A response. He knew one was coming. He knew MORE was probably coming, but the fact that it was another apparent newcomer was a bit...deflating. He so wanted it to be a more established superstar, but it's like anything else in life. You've got to start somewhere.

Excuse me, son? You...you look like you got beat over the head with a tire iron and you're worried about my well being? Just...who the heck are you anyway? I thought this company had more integrity themselves than to let some..some...reject from one of the Def Jam video games wrestle here!

{Goldman}
Def Jam games?

{Berman}
You know, like Fight For New York? I loved that game. Especially using Lil' Kim to spank Carmen Electra. That was fun.

I think you better not judge a book by it's cover...whoever you are. You? Everyone can read you like an open book. You're here to fight, whoop-dee-doo. Me? How're you not sure that I can't give you one, and be the one who finishes what was started on that side of ground beef you call a face?

[Kenji Katana]

Def Jam? For all this "Don't judge a book by it's cover"-ing you're talking about, you're really not applying it to yourself. I'm not to sure there are many asian rappers, you know, I'm half black though & I come from compton so I can see where you get that stereotype.

He points to his face.

This? This is the result of a lifetime of killing, and one night being drunk. Although it's not that bad.

He rubs his face and then shakes his head.

But you...

He walks down to the ring, and stops standing right in front of Mr. Smith.

You say you're gonna finish the beating my face was given? My advice, catch me on a night while I'm drunk, oh and change your name to Half Death....
or Tha Infamous 187. But I'll deal with that bitch later tonight.

The fans boo once again.

Oh shut the fuck up!

The boos got louder and louder, and continued for a couple minutes. Kenji backs up against the turnbuckle until they stop, then walks back up to Mr. Smith.


So, Mr. Smith...
Finish my face off? Beat me into a pulp if you can. But, best believe I'm gonna win the war.

[Mr. Smith]

You know what? That's exactly what I'd expect for someone like you to say.

There was an equal amount boos for Smith and there was for Katana by now.

{Berman}
Did he just say...

Before any of you get your panties in a bunch, when I say someone like him, I mean typical, American urban youth. You think that violence is the answer to all your problems, don't you son?

All you gotta do is fight, fight, fight and all your troubles are gonna go away, just like that. You're gonna show the world that you're a "man", isn't that right?

Now that you mention that name, that 187 fella, that must make you this Kenji Katana who's supposed to fight him tonight, right? Good golly Ms. Molly, instead of having me in a one-on-one match where these people can actually see some wrestling, instead, Carmella Blackheart puts you in a street fight with someone who OBVIOUSLY fits the same "stereotype" that you do! And you're gonna try to beat the livin' tar out of each other if I'm guessin' correctly.

That's all you kids know nowadays. If you're not fighting one another, you're shooting one another. You just stood here talking about killing and so on, and you think somebody's not supposed to think of you as you as a "stereotype"?

(Laughs)

That's not here nor there though, Katana. The fact of the matter is this. You might be from Compton. You might be from the 'hood, but don't go thinking that makes you special. Don't go thinking that someone from the 'burbs, or the country, or the mountains of Scandinavia for that matter, isn't capable of whipping your butt!

Or you might be in for a very unpleasant surprise. That is...assuming there's anything left of you after tonight.

[Kenji Katana]

Ok, well since we're stereotyping each other, let me continue.
You're the big bucks business man who probably thinks he's too good for the average person. Couldn't give someone who doesn't own a 10 million dollar house the time of day.

There were a couple of cheers among the many boos Kenji was receiving.

Goldman: It's getting hot in here!
Berman: Keep all your clothes on please.

Kenji laughs at the announcers, something else he was gifted with was better than normal hearing, and he faintly heard a
"KICK HIS ASS"
from the back.

You think money solves all of your problems right? If you wanted, you could pay somebody off to kill me as soon as you go home. But, I was close to death 3 days ago, when that 187 bitch did this to my face.

He looks around at the troops.

You guys wanna see Mr. Smith get his ass kicked tonight!?!?

The cheers were now as deafening as the boos had just been.

Well, how about you throw your money around and get Ms. Blackheart to put you in me & Seven's match tonight? I would be happy to kick both of your asses at the same time.

Evil Smile.

[Mr. Smith]

The troops, it would appear, had their side taken in this little debate. Amid the chants of "KICK HIS ASS", Smith slooooooooowly looks around the crowd. Then slooooooooooooly looks back at Katana.

Let me get this straight. You want me...John Smith...to get in the middle of your little "gang war match" tonight?

Slooooooooooooly he looks around again. Sounds a lot like that's what the fans want.

I told you I did my research, son. So I know all about you and your playfriend. And your criminal records. What is it with wrestling and convicts, I just don't understand. And you...you want me to get in the middle of your little "blood" feud, and I use the terms "blood" loosely.

(laughs)

I'll be honest with you, Katana. I'd never, eeeeeeeever set foot in the city of Compton, California.

A man of my intelligence would know better because you see me, you see what I've earned in life, and instead of wanting to learn how to get your own, the average Comptonite

(is that a word, he wonders...)

would rather want to steal what's mine. Just so much easier than say...hard work and dedication, isn't it? Let me not be so negative though. I bet there's probably a few people here from your hometown right now isn't there?

He pauses and looks around again. His question garners some response. Soldiers after all come from all walks of life, and all corners of the country.

So I can see how they might "relate" more to you, than to me. But...it's okay. Because you all here made the choice to do something meaningful with your lives.

(pointing at Katana)

You on the other hand, are making the choice to get himself punished on national television. You represent what's wrong with this society. What's wrong with this country, and as absurd as it sounds, maybe a good old-fashioned ass-kicking by me is what you need. That would be symbolic.

He looks to the sky and and reads out his next words like a headline from a newspaper.

John Smith "stomps out" the ignorance and the violence of urban America.

(breathing in deeply, then exhaling with a sense of "focus")

That sounds damn good to me.

His reply netted the only cheering of anything he said over the last few minutes.

If by the grace of the President...of the XWA that is, I'm allowed to take part in your little suaree, I'd be more than happy to take you apart, and your little buddy too.

[Kenji Katana]

Me? No, I think we're both represent what's wrong with society. Me with the poor and middle class, and you with the rich. You're right about us.... "Comptonites", whatever that means, be it racist or not.

A small cheer starts going.

But, you rich people.... snobs who look down on people like me and, I can't believe I'm saying this, Se7en, for not having millions like you. You think just cuz you get money you're the shit? Let me tell you something you may not have known. I used to be a millionaire, well I still am. Though, I may admit it's through less clean methods than yours, I have more or less a million dollars stashed somewhere. And you know what I say to you?

Uh oh, the middle finger.

Fuck you. I have all of the Power, Speed, Intelligence, and almost as much money as you have. But another thing I have? I have street smarts. Growing up in Compton teaches you shit Smith, shit I wouldn't expect you to understand.

Evil Smile.

But I got my answer, seeya later tonight.

He exits through the ropes as his music plays, but then suddenly stops. He turns around.

Anything else you wanna say, Mr. Poor Bill Gates?

Cheers get louder.

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"Out in the streets...
...They call it Murda!"

...echoes through the PA systems on the stage. The sound of Juelz Santana featuring Cam'Ron - Murda Murda starts to blast through the speakers. The attention of the Troops shifts to the stage to see who it was that was coming to join this little war of words. If you haven't figured it out by now, then there must be something wrong with your hearing. Tha Infamous One comes out walking out slowly. Dressed in his own red, black, and white camouflage. His face was painted with the symbolic skull that has become synonymous with him. He was ready for war. And what was he hearing from the back tents where the XWA roster was supposed to hang out in this dreaded war torn country? His enemy Kenji Katana going on and on and making some bullshit demands about an already scheduled match without consulting him? What the fuck was that about? Sure. He probably would have a hard time hearing what Kenji had to say over the sound of him stabbing the poor bastard in the face, but the least he could of done was send a Goddamn note or something. Then there was this uppity prick who seemed to have some type of ego on him while he sat there on his Goddamn high horse acting like he was 'holier than thou.' Ugh... It's shit like this that made his head hurt. Or was that his damn dark shadow toying with his mind again? Fuck it. He stood there with an eyebrow raised up and a microphone in hand. He lifted his free hand up to his throat and motioned for his music to be cut so that he could speak. Which they did. And now... He stood there, with the sound of the Troops cheering, and wondering what the Hell he was going to do with this mess. He slowly raised the microphone up and greeted everyone with...

"Guess who's baaaack...?! Uh oh! What's my motha*bleep*in' name!?"

The Troops answered loudly in a fast, ECW-esque chant screaming "1!8!7! 1!8!7! 1!8!7!" Yeah. He could probably disappear for ten years, come back, and still evoke the same reaction from the crowd. He never understood why he was a fan favorite, but he sure as Hell wasn't going to complain about it. He set his sights on the two men who were in the ring now and continued...

"Now... I don't know if I'm just going a little... crazy... Or not. But I believe my ears were burning when I suspect someone out here was saying my name. And... I don't like it when my ears are burning and I'm not there to answer the call. Now, which one of you two was it who dared to talk *bleep* about me when I wasn't around?"

He looked at Kenji and said...

"Was it you, Dragon Boy? Sheesh. You look like someone did a number on your face. I would seriously consider talking to the plastic surgeon who did your work and get a refund. It looks like they really *bleep*ed you up big time. I didn't think it was possible, but they made you look worse than you did before. Actually, scratch that. It's an improvement. Once I sit here, look at it for a minute, learn to appreciate the artistic choices that they have made... I really think that look suits you. What'd ya call that look again? The 'Tire Iron' look?"

Then he shifted his vision over to John Smith.

"Or was it you, Mr. El Generico Business Man in a Suit? I don't know what's sadder... Dragon Boy's face... Or the fact that you've got your head so far up your ass that you can see what you ate the night before. 'Suits' like you are a dime a dozen and I've heard all the bull*bleep* comments about who I am and what I've done in the past a hundred times before. And I'll probably hear it a hundred times afterward when I'm done kicking your teeth down your throat. Go ahead. Talk about the violent urban youth or whatever lame label you want to give me because I don't really care what the Hell you say. Sometimes a person just needs a swift kick to the skull in order to knock some sense into them and if I'm the man for the job... Then *bleep* it. I'll be the man for the job."

He raised a hand up with his finger pointed at the ring.

"Now, I heard some talk about Dragon Boy here trying to insert the yuppie into the match and make this match a little more... interesting... If that's how you want it to go down... Then who am I to deny the two capitol punishments in one day? That's basically like Christmas for me. I'll gladly execute two birds with one stone."

[Kenji Katana]

Hehehe.

The troops honestly looked like they could not understand why he was laughing. After what happened to his face, you would think he would be a bit scared of 187. But no, because not many know what really happened.

You see, I've already proven my mental dominance over you and your "Sidekick". You know you would not have had any edge over me had I not been drunk, and you had that bitch Half Death with you. You can only attack me when I'm drunk, but instead...

Why wait? Why not come down here now, so I can beat you so bad you'll want to commit 187.... to yourself.

He drops his mic and awaits 187's response, before taking a quick peek behind him to see what Smith was doing.

[Mr. Smith]

The third party made his appearance, this "Infamous 187", and as one would've guessed, he was as cold as ice, or hot as fire, whichever side of the spectrum you sat on. In either case, it was something that Smith had anticipated given the background info he had researched on potential foes. But first, before he acknowledges the new-new face, he replies to something Kenji said.

As a matter of fact, I do have "something to say", Katana. Just who came up with the term "street smarts" anyway. You know, I can never imagine why people like to call themselves "street smart". Like it's some kind of honor or something.

(pointing at Katana again)

The streets are cold, filthy places that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE...

...walk...

...all...

...over.

Anybody who associates themselves with that, aren't very "smart" at all. You want some real smarts, Katana? So be it, because tonight son, you're going to school.

Then he looks down the aisle to this 187 character...

And on the subject of brains, you're the ones who need some sense knocked into you. Sadly, if I beat you to a bloody pulp tonight in front of a worldwide television audience, it still probably would fail to register. You look like you can take a good couple of shots to the head yourself.

I might be able to "break" you boys, but I sure as hell will "crack" you, good and proper.

The confidence was brewing now. Overflowing even. No way was he going to be the "victim" in this "war". One side was the Gestapo as far as he was concerned, and the other was the Kamikaze. He...was the good old fashioned US of A, and the Patriots ALWAYS win.

Unless it's football of course. Now he stood, nodding and waiting for a possible response. The lines had been drawn by now, so it was just a matter of finishing this "debate" off.

[Kenji Katana]

Seven, I figure you have some really stupid comeback that involves my face, you, and a tire iron. And I'm pretty much done here, I've said all I need to say. I'm just gonna sit here and watch the fireworks explode.


He sits on the ring steps.

After hearing what Smith says, he turns to face him.

Sure do hope you teach me some smarts tonight, because if not, you're gonna have a curse on your head. And his name is....
Kenjiha...

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"Actually, Dragon Boy... I don't have another comment about your face. To be perfectly honest... I'm not a hundred percent sure what all went on that night. I remember talking to a girl. I remember you being the whiny, little punk like you always were. I remember you leaving. I remember said girl refused to talk to me afterward. Nice way to go and *bleep* up a conversation. I remember drinking. It gets fuzzy there. I remember fighting someone while being surrounded by a bunch of guys. Some kind of... club or some junk. I honestly don't really know what the Hell you're talking about. I just hear you mentioning me, a tire iron, and your face. I can only assume you ran your mouth again and I just blacked out from there."

This was the honest truth from 187. He really didn't remember that night. He was talking to Manami. He had some words with Kenji. Some drinking. A complete blank for several unknown hours. Then a club that the first rule is you should not talk about. And then he remember sleeping. Damn. He really does need to stop drinking so much.

"And as much as I'd love to come down there and smack the taste out of your mouth... I think I'm going to have to pass on that. Why would I want to ruin such a wonderful main event by coming down there and caving your face in before the war has even started? Doesn't sound like such a smart move since then all these great soldiers out there would miss out on a great show. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

He just shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the big yuppie who thinks he knows a thing or two about 187. Apparently someone must've forgotten to send the memo to whatever office desk he sat behind.

"You really are a hypocrite. You profess to not judge a book by it's cover, and like Dragon Boy over there pointed out... You don't take your own advice. You assume that I'm not very smart because I came from a less than great background. What you probably fail to see is... Yes. I've actually graduated from high school. I actually do have an education behind me. I've actually looked into higher education after high school. Not college, but who says you need to go to some university to be smart? Unlike the majority of idiots you see on the television who scream about the millions of dollars they have or what 'hood they came from with their millions of diamonds hanging around their neck... I don't have anything I need to prove. I certainly don't need to impress some uppity prick in a suit. I'd suggest you think before you speak because it might just cost you a tongue."

[Kenji Katana]

He stares at 187 with an evil look. He never though he'd agree with 187, but he had to now.

I see my work here is done.

He walks up the ramp but stops just short of 187. He stares him in the eye for a second, waiting for what's gonna happen.

[Tha Nightmare 187]

"Do it. Break his fuckin' face. He's right there. Just... stab him or some shit."The voice in his head tells him. So close. Oh, if he could just strangle the life out of this mothafucka where he stood... Things would be just so much better. Gah... Why do you taunt me, God? 187 just stood there. Staring Kenji down with his own ice cold glare. Holding himself back from lunging forward and properly extracting the worthless pathetic life from Kenji's being. But he couldn't. He had to remember what Lilith told him. He had to wait. It would only make his revenge that much sweeter. He just nodded his head as he stood there staring at Kenji. Not saying a word. Not a word. But an entire conversation taking place just with his eyes as he burned a hole right through one of his most hated enemies.