Post by jackdiamond on Jul 20, 2016 21:11:11 GMT -5
ON CAMERA
Our opening is a series of faces. They are close up capturing every unflattering detail. Each wears the same sullen look; tired and beaten by the game of life.
Our view moves up from the woman’s face as she teeters in and out of frame. From a bird’s eye perspective we see that all the faces belong to people in the same room. Everyone sits in a metal folding chair and the floor that serves as our backsplash is comprised of scuffed eggshell vinyl tile. They are all facing one man; one who seems far more put together and in a far better place than the rest of them. The man in the middle of all this is Jack Diamond, dressed impeccably as usual. In his hand is a laminated piece of paper. The background is green and there seems to be a list on it. Zooming in we read the following:
Addict’s Anonymous: the Twelve Steps to Recovery
1. We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to a normal way of thinking and living.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of this Power of our own understanding.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral and financial inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have these defects of character removed.
7. Humbly asked God (of our understanding) to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having made an effort to practice these principles in all our affairs, we tried to carry this message to other compulsive gamblers.
As our view leaves the list we are now focused on Jack Diamond; the lost souls we saw before out of focus in the background.
Jack: Hello everyone, my name is Jack Diamond.
‘Everyone else’: Hi Jack.
Jack: And a hello to everyone out there watching at home.
The brunette looks concerned at this last statement
Brunette: Wait this is supposed to be anonymous, why are you filming!?
Jack: Relax, Kendall wasn’t it? They are going to blur your faces and modulate your voice during editing. I promise
He turns and gives a quick head shake at the camera, showing he was bluffing about the precaution.
Jack: Trust me toots, nobody will know you.
NGW cameras are not the only ones working on a tape delay as the brunette Kendall forms a reaction.
Kendell :But you just used my….
Interrupting her Jack returns focus to the camera.
Jack: Now I am afraid for you suckers out there looking to knock me down a peg, I am not attending this meeting for myself. While the rest of NGW could use an edge on me, afraid I do not just put my cards on the table. See I do not have a substance problem; even if my promos have an excess of substance compared to dupes like Corey Bull and Dean Judas. Nor do I have a gambling problem. When I step up to the ring or the tables it ain’t a matter of odds if I win - it is only a matter of time.
Looking around the room Jack tries hiding a sneer as he gazes upon those far weaker than him.
Jack: So why am I here? Think of this as me hosting an intervention. I am here to intervene because NGW is stacked with jokers who need help. Dean Judas needs to quit the rocks before he finds a himself a new rock bottom - not that there is much lower than accepting a spot as Corey Bull’s right hand man. Unfortunately for him he is too busy recovering from the beatdown at last Vendetta to bother help him now. You may wager I am here for Devlin Scott; after all with the card he put together for Memphis, he must be pickled. Giving Corey Bull a title shot after he lost? Dean Judas in the main event after I pinned him in the middle of the ring? Some sap named Sommersby has three minutes of experience in an NGW ring and gets booked in three matches. Meanwhile Jack Diamond, the top card and top draw in the business, gets the third runner up in a dark match. And Kenzie Rydell relapsing back into competition again, which for my money remains a long shot. She would still need to blow under a 0.08 in her newly installed breathalyzer before she can drive to the venue. Devlin gets a pass for now, instead I will deal with the cards and match I drew.
Moving behind the deadbeat with dead eyes Jack imitates a Hawaiian accent.
Jack: Aloha my name is Pekelo Kimo, and I got a problem. His name is Jack Diamond.
Pekelo, pal, don’t get me wrong. I am glad you are my opponent this week. It is high time I faced someone with a resume longer than their rap sheet. And as far I can tell there is no dirt on you - or much of anything frankly. The only addiction you showed so far is to an overrated HBO series.
Perhaps you keep as clean as your home state’s pristine beaches. But I wager that ain’t the case. The way you rambled on incoherently in your first promo - jumping between European history, personal anecdotes, and poorly explained television show synopsis….not to mention singing...maybe you do have a substance problem. Chances are you were more baked than a side of poi, and rolled more than just laulau leaves before filming. Maybe you splashed a little too much rum in your pineapple juice that morning.
Of course, I could be wrong and drinking and drugs ain’t your issue. No your problem could be that you are anonymous. A run of the mill nobody without a win or personality to their name. All your accolades couldn’t buy you a victory in your dark match debut; what makes you think you got a chance against a future NGW champion? If you show up at Vendetta slick, that will tell me you do have an addiction. A gambling addiction, because only a sucker truly stuck on gambling would take a chance with me in the ring. Getting in that ring tells me you are addicted to pain, and addicted to losing. After all, you already made a quick habit of it.
My advice to recovering from your losing ways - don’t get in the ring. Withdraw from the match to start your withdrawal from defeat. You GoT no chance of walking away with anything but a loss; maybe if you are lucky I won’t pin you for my win. If you cannot admit to yourself you got a problem and show up at Vendetta, just know recovering your career will be that much harder.
You seem like the stubborn type though slick, so at the very least prepare for our match. Stop watching Game of Thrones, instead binge watch my matches dating all the way back to two-thousand-and-five. I’ll give you a spoiler alert, since you were a total dolt and didn’t give one before your last promo: in the next episode I make you kiss your career aloha sucker.
Moving around the circle Jack stands behind Kendall; who stopped rocking in her chair and passed out.
Jack: No Show of course would be complete without dealing with my late-addition opponent: Kenzie Rydell. For you saps out there that couldn’t scrape together the pennies and dimes for the NGW Pay Per View “City of Sin”, let me recap it for you. Ms. Rydell laid her cards, and problems, and back in the middle of the ring for everyone to see. Clearly her less than stellar career drove her into a downward spiral of drinking and despair. Before you judge her though, can any of you honestly say you wouldn’t turn to the bottle if you lost a match that involved Gray Malone?
Now Kenzie, doll, I could care less about your drinking problem. I am not here to help you clean up your act - just to deliver the sobering news that the Sunday after Vendetta is going to leave you in more pain than any hangover ever could.
Tapping on the laminated piece of paper, Diamond turns it so the camera can see it again.
Jack: What I will do toots is give you a step-by-twelve-step breakdown of how you trying to recover your career at Vendetta plays out.
He holds up one finger, pacing around the circle of compliant degenerates.
Jack: One, you will admit you are powerless. Not only over your chemical dependence, but over what happens to you in that ring. That your career is unmanageable - by yourself or with the help of that sucker Spencer who seems stuck to your hip. Accept that how your comeback unfolds is out of your hands. Once you accept that, we can move on.
You may ask yourself babydoll: if you cannot handle your own future in NGW, who will? Well you are in luck honey, there is a higher power that can deal with you. And toots you will not just believe, but you will know that their is a greater power at Vendetta. Here’s a hint, you are staring at his handsome mug right now.
Gesturing to his face he uses two fingers and points at both his eyes, also a sign of what step they are on.
Jack: See I am the greater power, the greater wrestler, the greater talent, that restores you to normal. Now when I say normal, I don’t mean help you get another shot at the Five Lakes Championship. No dice, that prolonged sham of a title reign was anything but normal - truly a case of beginner’s luck. While that heater of yours lasted a few months, you only defended that title twice right? And once against John Blade, who let us be honest; John is less sharp like a blade and more dull like a butter knife. Normal for you ain’t as a champion, nor a contender, nor anyone special - just another dame a dozen NGW competitor. I can read your face doll, see right through those hazel eyes - and it is obvious you know that’s the real normal for you.
Once we get that out of the way, the third step requires you make the choice to turn your life and will over to me: the greater power. If you step into the ring at Vendetta, then I’ll take that as you completing this step. Odds are though you will fold before then. You and Spencer won’t pull out that camcorder and say a peep. Probably already pawned that piece of junk off for a fifth of gin. I encourage you Kenzie to call though, to speak and show up. See honey you need to fight me for your own good. You need to make that choice and move onto step four.
Step four is taking a moral inventory of self. Trust me sweetie, nothing makes wrestlers in this industry question themselves and their self-worth more than stepping toe to toe with the Wildcard. Competing with me will force you to see the stakes are far higher than what you can afford. Training for this match, the mind games, all that jazz….it will press you to self evaluate. To realize just how poorly you stack up against real competition. That you are far closer to jokers like Malone and Blade than the Diamonds and Bentleys of the world. I know you are a scared little girl Kenzie, one that wanted to crawl back into the hole you been in since City of Sin. But for now please be fearless; you need to face me before you know what it really feels like to be afraid.
Rolling along, once you take stock in how worthless you are in NGW then we can press on and understand your flaws. Since Vendetta is less than two weeks away, I do not have the time to sit around and list them all off. I mean your issues run further than your lack of creativity in and out of the ring, your lackluster hooks and jabs, your pathetic takedowns and putdowns. The one thing you got going for you toots is brief flashes of self-awareness. So come out here and flash those hazel eyes at us and deal with your insecurities. Dole out remarks about your inexperience, highlight your mistakes, express your doubts. Sure it makes for bad television and is more shallow than Corey Bull’s gene pool. But you need to accept why you are not cut out for this business - and then cut your promo short. Do not bother waste anyone’s time talking about respect or how you will persevere - nobody is buying it. It’s less believable than Dean Judas’s alibi on where he was in the weeks leading up to the last Vendetta. Kenzie, babydoll, you need to admit your flaws to yourself and another human being - lucky for you I will watch your promos this week, even if nobody else bothers.
Step six happens after you own your flaws - it involves discarding them. Ready or not joker I will exploit and remove your every imperfection at Vendetta. But that does not mean making you a better competitor. Removing your character flaws - as an indecisive star gazing little hussy - means discarding you from NGW all together. But hey at least the last time anyone sees you in NGW won’t be you stumbling drunk as a skunk in Las Vegas.
He pats the blackout drunk girl's shoulder, feigning an effort to console her. All it does is make her involuntarily move around some, and then burp an odor so foul even the man with a tattoo on his face seems put off.
Jack: If you can hear me over your own sobs and see me through those tear-filled eyes Kenzie, I got good news for you: we are halfway-house through your program. Now you can list off and start apologizing to those you wronged. I got the ball rolling on that one. Start with Devlin Scott for tarnishing his company’s Five Lakes championship. Under your watch that gold standard plummeted in value more than the pound sterling. Make amends for your pathetic title run. Say you are sorry to the fans for losing that very same belt in a match with a girl who NGW since blackballed, and Gray Malone. A joker that was zero-and-two when he got that match, and has not come close to putting it together since. Atone with Avery - he lost to the Angelz of Destruction because of you. A handful of saps and suckers who look up to Corey Bull. While anyone who watched knows he didn’t deserve to be trumped in that match, that humiliating check in the loss column is all anyone will ever remember. His albatross - losing to jokers from AoD - is a burden you put on him.
A serious expression finds itself on Jack's face as he stares at the camera and points at his chest.
Jack: Most importantly, apologize to me. Here I am wasting my time talking about someone like you, someone who the oddsmakers are split will even show up to Memphis, out of contractual obligation. All because you stumbled into my match. While the pot was pretty small when it was just that dupe Kimo, you checking in does not add any value. You are broke reputation-wise, you got nothing to lose but nothing to offer. I gain nothing from you being here; and while Kimo is a nobody, even he doesn’t profit from you stealing his spotlight.
The list of those you owe amends probably goes on from there - your former running buddies in AoD, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Seems you have more friends in NGW than a tramp in the red light district. But you can atone to all them on your own time - because mending ain’t happening in Memphis.
I am going to shuffle right on by steps 10 and 11: you lack the personality to require a second personal inventory. As for praying for power...neither luck nor prayer will change the odds of our match. You don’t stand a chance against the Wildcard, and that leads me to the final step in the Recovery of Kenzie Rydell.
If you find your voice between now and Vendetta - and it isn’t slurred - then I make you use it to carry a message to other NGW jokers. A cautionary tale of what happens when you deal with Jack Diamond. While Dean Judas and Corey Bull are recovering from the beatdown in Atlanta, they will carry that message through the halls of every joint NGW partakes in. Rydell you will do the same - whether with your words or when the world witnesses our match. Whether you are message or messenger is no skin off my nose, but you can bet it will be skin off yours. You are at rock bottom toots, and at Vendetta I’m going to pin you there.
Diamond wanders back into the circle of lost souls - he knows that nobody can save them, especially themselves.
Jack: Pekelo and Kenzie, if you both haven’t realized you got a huge problem. A match with the Wildcard in Memphis. No intervention will save you; I make a habit of smoking fools like you in the ring on a weekly basis. I plan on making more room for everyone to jump on the Jack Diamond bandwagon; even if that means Kenzie that you need to fall off the wagon again. Your roads to recovering may take twelve steps. But losing to me will only take one Kenzie - stepping through those ropes.
Without any fanfare Jack drops the list of steps and walks out of the sad room full of pathetic losers. He closes the door behind him, only a silhouette of his face now visible through the door’s opaque glass. Anonymous for now, but you can bet not for long.
_______________________________
OFF CAMERA
Leaving the site of his promo, Diamond walks down a drab hallway. A NGW cameraman tries catching up.
Jack: That’s a wrap for today slick. Edit in a fade after I closed the door. Last image these suckers should see is the silhouette of my face - really press the anonymous point.
Cameraman: Mr. Diamond….the parking lost is a left down this hall
Without breaking his stride or looking back Jack shouts a response
Jack: I am well aware joker - this is where we part ways. I’ll let Devlin know if I need any of you saps for another shoot before Vendetta.
Black full brogue dress shoes clicking against drab eggshell vinyl tile, Diamond turns into another hallway. This continues a few more times, each path as identical and unremarkable as the previous. Finally he reaches an identifier; an open door with a brown sign next to it. White letter tiles attached to the brown sign read:
Entering the room, it consists only of dull whites and beiges. The space is large enough for several dozen people but comes nowhere near capacity. Five individuals, living embodiments of the dull environment, are crammed at a wooden folding table at the far end. Little paper name placards try and provide a distinguishable identity for each board member. Facing them sits several rows of metal folding chairs; only a small handful of which are occupied. Onlookers are as chalky as the tiles and walls, and seemingly range in age from sixty to sixty-five. A table with refreshments sits near the entrance: red solo cups, liter bottles of off-brand soda, and store bought generic cookies. The spread obviously failed in its objective to lure an audience. Jack takes a seat in the back row, stretching out his legs and propping them on the chair in front of him. He scans the board members a few times. He knows that power and change does not come from board rooms, oval offices, or palaces. It happens right under our noses, in dingy community centers where nobody pays the least bit of attention.
Examining their faces and expressions, Diamond starts getting an early read on them. Fairly quickly he focuses on the man at the far right - he seems restless as he adjusts and readjusts his horn rimmed glasses. Leaning forward and squinting Diamond picks up a name from the placard: Adam Strator.
The board member on the far left stands up. A pudgy man, his hair forms a horseshoe around an otherwise chrome dome. While overweight,his ill-fitting brown suit still drapes off him. He clears his throat, as if the crowd was raucous enough to require getting their attention.
Board Member #1: Please everyone settle down. We have several pressing points on the agenda to address, and then we will open the floor.
Immediately overtaken with boredom Jack pulls out his phone. The meeting proceedings fade into white noise. Checking ESPN scores and the ticker going across the bottom…
“Will OKC trade Westbrook?”
The last message catches his eye. Clicking on it he begins reading the article, and a few more along the same vein. Suddenly something the board says pulls him back. A woman sandwiched in the center of table speaks up.
Board Member #3: Next up is the vote on Project Labor Agreements for Major State-Funded Future Construction Projects in Clark County.
She looks like she would be a librarian if not for the fact she apparently loves to hear herself talk. Listening to her prattle about the meeting subject would put a normal man to sleep.
Board Member #3: For those who did not attend the last three spirited debates on the subject, let me recap. We are deciding whether to support a recently proposed statute. The proposed statute would require all future construction projects in Clark County involving more than two-hundred million dollars in state or local funding require at least eighty-percent of total funds go to hiring Clark County residents and companies headquartered within Clark County borders.
Everyone seems catatonic except Jack; he leans forward in his chair with undivided attention.
Board Member #3: Now I vehemently oppose this idea. It is nothing more than legal doctrine enabling corruption and pork barrel projects. Furthermore it risks scaring away much needed projects from our illustrious county.
Another woman at the board table, about three decades younger than everyone else, stands up and interrupts.
Board Member #4: Meanwhile I think we should only let companies in that want to do right by our people. My hubby is a foreman and since the recession he’s been barely able to find any work to support my…
Brushing her chemically altered blonde hair, reveals ample cleavage resulting obviously another alteration.
Board Member #4: Our needs. Why should our taxes fund a project if we don’t reap the benefit?
Second from the right is a stereotypical soccer mom desperately trying to be anything but. In a tone dripping with condemnation, and a healthy underlying dose of jealousy, Board Member #2 sneers
Board Member #2: Well honey, as I’ve tried explaining to you before, it is much more complicated than that.
The four active board members begin bickering, but Jack isn’t paying attention to their squabbling. He turns back to ESPN
Board Member #1: Listen this is the same back and forth we have been having for the past month. The vote is split two-two, and comes down to how Mr. Strator votes.
Now Diamond is dialed in, his stare set on the fifth man at the table. While any layman can read that the man is nervous, a cardsharp like Jack is analyzing the tells trying to piece together why. A fairly attractive, in that non-threatening and unremarkable way, pushes his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose. Bright blue eyes blink in bursts between long stares. The man defines the stereotype of ‘a suit’ but without the confidence. Diamond takes note of the suit - higher quality and more fitted than the other slobs up there. But why, why would some anonymous bureaucrat show up in such nice threads? And how? Between the looks and the digs, he seems to be emulating a politician. Just without the poise, rubbing his hands against each other as his face turns from white to pale. He makes eye contact with Jack, who just stares him down.
Board Member #1: Well Adam, have you reached a decision?
All but ignoring their insistence, Adam Strator turns from pale to ashen as Diamond keeps locked in. With a gulp the board member answers.
Strator: Actually….I decided to support the PLA. My vote is yay.
Board Member #3: You gotta be joking!
The crowd is in a frenzy - well more just a soft murmur.
Board Member #1: Then this matter is settled. The Project Meeting Agreement has been accepted - the proper paperwork and procedures will begin immediately. This concludes….
Before the meeting can wrap up, Jack Diamond stands up and walks out of the room. Turning back to the board, which is now dispersing, Strator reconnects eye contact. After a brief pause he gives a head flick toward the exit. Jack steps out as Adam Strator awkwardly chats with attendees. Heading down the hall, Diamond opens the door for a staircase. Strator is not far behind, stepping into the stairwell so they can have a bit of private conversation.
Strator: I can’t believe I just did that.
Jack: Slick you made a call; the chips were down, you had to do something. And odds are you helped all the saps and suckers in Vegas trying to eke out a living.
Strator: Yea but we both know that’s not why I did it.
Jack: Is that right?
Strator: I did it because your boss
This is why Jack left professional gambling for wrestling in the first place - suckers are just far too willing to put their cards on the table if they think they got a strong hand. He plays along though
Jack: My boss?
Strator: Yea, you know who I’m talking about
Jack: Let me be clear: I don’t work for that joker.
Strator: Associate then, whatever you want to call it. He put the screws to me, would have ended my campaign for Las Vegas mayor before it ever had a chance.
Diamond’s poker face had to be strong, since his gut reaction was to laugh in this man’s face for thinking he ever has a chance of a political career.
Jack: But since you did his bidding….
Strator: Now he is going to make sure it gets funded - not just me and the wife going to Kinkos and putting up posters on our cul-de-sac. No this time we will be going big.
His poker face stays strong
Jack: No doubt the pigeons will come flocking to the polls to support you.
A gleam appears in Adam Strator’s eyes.
Strator: Yea! Mayor, then congress, then...who knows. This is the start of a political career and legacy unlike Nevada, even these United States, has ever seen. Speaking of start though…
Bumbling Strator tries covertly moving his hand toward Jack, partially covering it up with his suit jacket. Diamond just stares the guy up and down.
Jack: What on Earth are you doing slick?
Strator: Well, I figured you brought the first installment...like me and your boss...sorry associate...agreed upon. That way I could get the ground game going.
Jack: You thought I would bring something like that here? In what like a suitcase chained to my arm?
Strator: I figured like a brown paper bag, or an envelope or…..
Jack: My advice sucker, stop with all the gangster movies. As for your first installment, that is somebody else’s department. All I came here for was to watch how this meeting played out.
Strator: Oh….so…..
Jack: Yea….you should go slick, kiss some babies and jazz like that. I will see you again soon.
Disappointed and uncomfortable, the suit with a winning complexion and losing personality walks back out into the hallway. We can here him trying to put on a charismatic front for the public until the door closes behind him. Jack pulls out a pen and small, reporter-sized, paper pad from inside his jacket. Flipping through he stops on a page of names.
ChaikinJanssenSinger
Taking his pen he circles: Strator
Our opening is a series of faces. They are close up capturing every unflattering detail. Each wears the same sullen look; tired and beaten by the game of life.
First up a homeless man; a bloated face despite his destitution. His giant beard and creepy mustache passed by hipster levels of ridiculousness ages ago and just seems sloppy and unkempt now.
The next face is a bit of a contradiction; in some ways he appears youthful. Free-flowing medium length hair, and a popped flannel collar in a desperate attempt to look cool without trying. The face though - blemished by wrinkles and tired worn out lines - screams years of substance abuse. His mouth is filthy: yellowed teeth and cracked lips. To borrow a southern expression, he looks like he was rode hard and put up wet.
Panning around it is tough to tell what the next man looks like. His face is obscured. Greasy and shaggy hair blocks most of it, along with an ill-advised skull tattoo right in the middle of his forehead. His head is in his hands as he sobs at what his life has become - the spread out fingers looking like wings shooting from his unfortunate ink.
In stark contrast to the other faces is a smiling buffoon with receding blond hair, bandages on his face, and a pleasantly inebriated disposition. The audience has never seen him before, but he looks familiar as he takes a swig from a bottle with #No.8 on the label.
The next face appears to be a Samoan man on the younger side; totally normal in appearance, almost to a fault. He is devoid of any unique features, except his eyes seem dead. A thousand yard stare, as if looking ahead at some impending doom.
A woman’s face appears; long brunette hair far past her shoulders. She sways in her chair, seemingly intoxicated - it is a shock she made it to wherever we are filming. Her raccoon eyes are equal parts excessive makeup and evidence of the bender she must have had last night; or maybe is still on.
Addict’s Anonymous: the Twelve Steps to Recovery
1. We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to a normal way of thinking and living.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of this Power of our own understanding.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral and financial inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have these defects of character removed.
7. Humbly asked God (of our understanding) to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having made an effort to practice these principles in all our affairs, we tried to carry this message to other compulsive gamblers.
As our view leaves the list we are now focused on Jack Diamond; the lost souls we saw before out of focus in the background.
Jack: Hello everyone, my name is Jack Diamond.
‘Everyone else’: Hi Jack.
Jack: And a hello to everyone out there watching at home.
The brunette looks concerned at this last statement
Brunette: Wait this is supposed to be anonymous, why are you filming!?
Jack: Relax, Kendall wasn’t it? They are going to blur your faces and modulate your voice during editing. I promise
He turns and gives a quick head shake at the camera, showing he was bluffing about the precaution.
Jack: Trust me toots, nobody will know you.
NGW cameras are not the only ones working on a tape delay as the brunette Kendall forms a reaction.
Kendell :But you just used my….
Interrupting her Jack returns focus to the camera.
Jack: Now I am afraid for you suckers out there looking to knock me down a peg, I am not attending this meeting for myself. While the rest of NGW could use an edge on me, afraid I do not just put my cards on the table. See I do not have a substance problem; even if my promos have an excess of substance compared to dupes like Corey Bull and Dean Judas. Nor do I have a gambling problem. When I step up to the ring or the tables it ain’t a matter of odds if I win - it is only a matter of time.
Looking around the room Jack tries hiding a sneer as he gazes upon those far weaker than him.
Jack: So why am I here? Think of this as me hosting an intervention. I am here to intervene because NGW is stacked with jokers who need help. Dean Judas needs to quit the rocks before he finds a himself a new rock bottom - not that there is much lower than accepting a spot as Corey Bull’s right hand man. Unfortunately for him he is too busy recovering from the beatdown at last Vendetta to bother help him now. You may wager I am here for Devlin Scott; after all with the card he put together for Memphis, he must be pickled. Giving Corey Bull a title shot after he lost? Dean Judas in the main event after I pinned him in the middle of the ring? Some sap named Sommersby has three minutes of experience in an NGW ring and gets booked in three matches. Meanwhile Jack Diamond, the top card and top draw in the business, gets the third runner up in a dark match. And Kenzie Rydell relapsing back into competition again, which for my money remains a long shot. She would still need to blow under a 0.08 in her newly installed breathalyzer before she can drive to the venue. Devlin gets a pass for now, instead I will deal with the cards and match I drew.
Moving behind the deadbeat with dead eyes Jack imitates a Hawaiian accent.
Jack: Aloha my name is Pekelo Kimo, and I got a problem. His name is Jack Diamond.
Pekelo, pal, don’t get me wrong. I am glad you are my opponent this week. It is high time I faced someone with a resume longer than their rap sheet. And as far I can tell there is no dirt on you - or much of anything frankly. The only addiction you showed so far is to an overrated HBO series.
Perhaps you keep as clean as your home state’s pristine beaches. But I wager that ain’t the case. The way you rambled on incoherently in your first promo - jumping between European history, personal anecdotes, and poorly explained television show synopsis….not to mention singing...maybe you do have a substance problem. Chances are you were more baked than a side of poi, and rolled more than just laulau leaves before filming. Maybe you splashed a little too much rum in your pineapple juice that morning.
Of course, I could be wrong and drinking and drugs ain’t your issue. No your problem could be that you are anonymous. A run of the mill nobody without a win or personality to their name. All your accolades couldn’t buy you a victory in your dark match debut; what makes you think you got a chance against a future NGW champion? If you show up at Vendetta slick, that will tell me you do have an addiction. A gambling addiction, because only a sucker truly stuck on gambling would take a chance with me in the ring. Getting in that ring tells me you are addicted to pain, and addicted to losing. After all, you already made a quick habit of it.
My advice to recovering from your losing ways - don’t get in the ring. Withdraw from the match to start your withdrawal from defeat. You GoT no chance of walking away with anything but a loss; maybe if you are lucky I won’t pin you for my win. If you cannot admit to yourself you got a problem and show up at Vendetta, just know recovering your career will be that much harder.
You seem like the stubborn type though slick, so at the very least prepare for our match. Stop watching Game of Thrones, instead binge watch my matches dating all the way back to two-thousand-and-five. I’ll give you a spoiler alert, since you were a total dolt and didn’t give one before your last promo: in the next episode I make you kiss your career aloha sucker.
Moving around the circle Jack stands behind Kendall; who stopped rocking in her chair and passed out.
Jack: No Show of course would be complete without dealing with my late-addition opponent: Kenzie Rydell. For you saps out there that couldn’t scrape together the pennies and dimes for the NGW Pay Per View “City of Sin”, let me recap it for you. Ms. Rydell laid her cards, and problems, and back in the middle of the ring for everyone to see. Clearly her less than stellar career drove her into a downward spiral of drinking and despair. Before you judge her though, can any of you honestly say you wouldn’t turn to the bottle if you lost a match that involved Gray Malone?
Now Kenzie, doll, I could care less about your drinking problem. I am not here to help you clean up your act - just to deliver the sobering news that the Sunday after Vendetta is going to leave you in more pain than any hangover ever could.
Tapping on the laminated piece of paper, Diamond turns it so the camera can see it again.
Jack: What I will do toots is give you a step-by-twelve-step breakdown of how you trying to recover your career at Vendetta plays out.
He holds up one finger, pacing around the circle of compliant degenerates.
Jack: One, you will admit you are powerless. Not only over your chemical dependence, but over what happens to you in that ring. That your career is unmanageable - by yourself or with the help of that sucker Spencer who seems stuck to your hip. Accept that how your comeback unfolds is out of your hands. Once you accept that, we can move on.
You may ask yourself babydoll: if you cannot handle your own future in NGW, who will? Well you are in luck honey, there is a higher power that can deal with you. And toots you will not just believe, but you will know that their is a greater power at Vendetta. Here’s a hint, you are staring at his handsome mug right now.
Gesturing to his face he uses two fingers and points at both his eyes, also a sign of what step they are on.
Jack: See I am the greater power, the greater wrestler, the greater talent, that restores you to normal. Now when I say normal, I don’t mean help you get another shot at the Five Lakes Championship. No dice, that prolonged sham of a title reign was anything but normal - truly a case of beginner’s luck. While that heater of yours lasted a few months, you only defended that title twice right? And once against John Blade, who let us be honest; John is less sharp like a blade and more dull like a butter knife. Normal for you ain’t as a champion, nor a contender, nor anyone special - just another dame a dozen NGW competitor. I can read your face doll, see right through those hazel eyes - and it is obvious you know that’s the real normal for you.
Once we get that out of the way, the third step requires you make the choice to turn your life and will over to me: the greater power. If you step into the ring at Vendetta, then I’ll take that as you completing this step. Odds are though you will fold before then. You and Spencer won’t pull out that camcorder and say a peep. Probably already pawned that piece of junk off for a fifth of gin. I encourage you Kenzie to call though, to speak and show up. See honey you need to fight me for your own good. You need to make that choice and move onto step four.
Step four is taking a moral inventory of self. Trust me sweetie, nothing makes wrestlers in this industry question themselves and their self-worth more than stepping toe to toe with the Wildcard. Competing with me will force you to see the stakes are far higher than what you can afford. Training for this match, the mind games, all that jazz….it will press you to self evaluate. To realize just how poorly you stack up against real competition. That you are far closer to jokers like Malone and Blade than the Diamonds and Bentleys of the world. I know you are a scared little girl Kenzie, one that wanted to crawl back into the hole you been in since City of Sin. But for now please be fearless; you need to face me before you know what it really feels like to be afraid.
Rolling along, once you take stock in how worthless you are in NGW then we can press on and understand your flaws. Since Vendetta is less than two weeks away, I do not have the time to sit around and list them all off. I mean your issues run further than your lack of creativity in and out of the ring, your lackluster hooks and jabs, your pathetic takedowns and putdowns. The one thing you got going for you toots is brief flashes of self-awareness. So come out here and flash those hazel eyes at us and deal with your insecurities. Dole out remarks about your inexperience, highlight your mistakes, express your doubts. Sure it makes for bad television and is more shallow than Corey Bull’s gene pool. But you need to accept why you are not cut out for this business - and then cut your promo short. Do not bother waste anyone’s time talking about respect or how you will persevere - nobody is buying it. It’s less believable than Dean Judas’s alibi on where he was in the weeks leading up to the last Vendetta. Kenzie, babydoll, you need to admit your flaws to yourself and another human being - lucky for you I will watch your promos this week, even if nobody else bothers.
Step six happens after you own your flaws - it involves discarding them. Ready or not joker I will exploit and remove your every imperfection at Vendetta. But that does not mean making you a better competitor. Removing your character flaws - as an indecisive star gazing little hussy - means discarding you from NGW all together. But hey at least the last time anyone sees you in NGW won’t be you stumbling drunk as a skunk in Las Vegas.
He pats the blackout drunk girl's shoulder, feigning an effort to console her. All it does is make her involuntarily move around some, and then burp an odor so foul even the man with a tattoo on his face seems put off.
Jack: If you can hear me over your own sobs and see me through those tear-filled eyes Kenzie, I got good news for you: we are halfway-house through your program. Now you can list off and start apologizing to those you wronged. I got the ball rolling on that one. Start with Devlin Scott for tarnishing his company’s Five Lakes championship. Under your watch that gold standard plummeted in value more than the pound sterling. Make amends for your pathetic title run. Say you are sorry to the fans for losing that very same belt in a match with a girl who NGW since blackballed, and Gray Malone. A joker that was zero-and-two when he got that match, and has not come close to putting it together since. Atone with Avery - he lost to the Angelz of Destruction because of you. A handful of saps and suckers who look up to Corey Bull. While anyone who watched knows he didn’t deserve to be trumped in that match, that humiliating check in the loss column is all anyone will ever remember. His albatross - losing to jokers from AoD - is a burden you put on him.
A serious expression finds itself on Jack's face as he stares at the camera and points at his chest.
Jack: Most importantly, apologize to me. Here I am wasting my time talking about someone like you, someone who the oddsmakers are split will even show up to Memphis, out of contractual obligation. All because you stumbled into my match. While the pot was pretty small when it was just that dupe Kimo, you checking in does not add any value. You are broke reputation-wise, you got nothing to lose but nothing to offer. I gain nothing from you being here; and while Kimo is a nobody, even he doesn’t profit from you stealing his spotlight.
The list of those you owe amends probably goes on from there - your former running buddies in AoD, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Seems you have more friends in NGW than a tramp in the red light district. But you can atone to all them on your own time - because mending ain’t happening in Memphis.
I am going to shuffle right on by steps 10 and 11: you lack the personality to require a second personal inventory. As for praying for power...neither luck nor prayer will change the odds of our match. You don’t stand a chance against the Wildcard, and that leads me to the final step in the Recovery of Kenzie Rydell.
If you find your voice between now and Vendetta - and it isn’t slurred - then I make you use it to carry a message to other NGW jokers. A cautionary tale of what happens when you deal with Jack Diamond. While Dean Judas and Corey Bull are recovering from the beatdown in Atlanta, they will carry that message through the halls of every joint NGW partakes in. Rydell you will do the same - whether with your words or when the world witnesses our match. Whether you are message or messenger is no skin off my nose, but you can bet it will be skin off yours. You are at rock bottom toots, and at Vendetta I’m going to pin you there.
Diamond wanders back into the circle of lost souls - he knows that nobody can save them, especially themselves.
Jack: Pekelo and Kenzie, if you both haven’t realized you got a huge problem. A match with the Wildcard in Memphis. No intervention will save you; I make a habit of smoking fools like you in the ring on a weekly basis. I plan on making more room for everyone to jump on the Jack Diamond bandwagon; even if that means Kenzie that you need to fall off the wagon again. Your roads to recovering may take twelve steps. But losing to me will only take one Kenzie - stepping through those ropes.
Without any fanfare Jack drops the list of steps and walks out of the sad room full of pathetic losers. He closes the door behind him, only a silhouette of his face now visible through the door’s opaque glass. Anonymous for now, but you can bet not for long.
_______________________________
OFF CAMERA
Leaving the site of his promo, Diamond walks down a drab hallway. A NGW cameraman tries catching up.
Jack: That’s a wrap for today slick. Edit in a fade after I closed the door. Last image these suckers should see is the silhouette of my face - really press the anonymous point.
Cameraman: Mr. Diamond….the parking lost is a left down this hall
Without breaking his stride or looking back Jack shouts a response
Jack: I am well aware joker - this is where we part ways. I’ll let Devlin know if I need any of you saps for another shoot before Vendetta.
Black full brogue dress shoes clicking against drab eggshell vinyl tile, Diamond turns into another hallway. This continues a few more times, each path as identical and unremarkable as the previous. Finally he reaches an identifier; an open door with a brown sign next to it. White letter tiles attached to the brown sign read:
“Clark County Community Planning Board: Open Meeting”
Examining their faces and expressions, Diamond starts getting an early read on them. Fairly quickly he focuses on the man at the far right - he seems restless as he adjusts and readjusts his horn rimmed glasses. Leaning forward and squinting Diamond picks up a name from the placard: Adam Strator.
The board member on the far left stands up. A pudgy man, his hair forms a horseshoe around an otherwise chrome dome. While overweight,his ill-fitting brown suit still drapes off him. He clears his throat, as if the crowd was raucous enough to require getting their attention.
Board Member #1: Please everyone settle down. We have several pressing points on the agenda to address, and then we will open the floor.
Immediately overtaken with boredom Jack pulls out his phone. The meeting proceedings fade into white noise. Checking ESPN scores and the ticker going across the bottom…
“Will OKC trade Westbrook?”
“Mets send another pitcher to the DL”
“Seven companies bid on new Vegas stadiums”
The last message catches his eye. Clicking on it he begins reading the article, and a few more along the same vein. Suddenly something the board says pulls him back. A woman sandwiched in the center of table speaks up.
Board Member #3: Next up is the vote on Project Labor Agreements for Major State-Funded Future Construction Projects in Clark County.
She looks like she would be a librarian if not for the fact she apparently loves to hear herself talk. Listening to her prattle about the meeting subject would put a normal man to sleep.
Board Member #3: For those who did not attend the last three spirited debates on the subject, let me recap. We are deciding whether to support a recently proposed statute. The proposed statute would require all future construction projects in Clark County involving more than two-hundred million dollars in state or local funding require at least eighty-percent of total funds go to hiring Clark County residents and companies headquartered within Clark County borders.
Everyone seems catatonic except Jack; he leans forward in his chair with undivided attention.
Board Member #3: Now I vehemently oppose this idea. It is nothing more than legal doctrine enabling corruption and pork barrel projects. Furthermore it risks scaring away much needed projects from our illustrious county.
Another woman at the board table, about three decades younger than everyone else, stands up and interrupts.
Board Member #4: Meanwhile I think we should only let companies in that want to do right by our people. My hubby is a foreman and since the recession he’s been barely able to find any work to support my…
Brushing her chemically altered blonde hair, reveals ample cleavage resulting obviously another alteration.
Board Member #4: Our needs. Why should our taxes fund a project if we don’t reap the benefit?
Second from the right is a stereotypical soccer mom desperately trying to be anything but. In a tone dripping with condemnation, and a healthy underlying dose of jealousy, Board Member #2 sneers
Board Member #2: Well honey, as I’ve tried explaining to you before, it is much more complicated than that.
The four active board members begin bickering, but Jack isn’t paying attention to their squabbling. He turns back to ESPN
“...early front runner for the project is Nevada-based Zenith Entertainment, an industry leader in casino construction…”
Now Diamond is dialed in, his stare set on the fifth man at the table. While any layman can read that the man is nervous, a cardsharp like Jack is analyzing the tells trying to piece together why. A fairly attractive, in that non-threatening and unremarkable way, pushes his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose. Bright blue eyes blink in bursts between long stares. The man defines the stereotype of ‘a suit’ but without the confidence. Diamond takes note of the suit - higher quality and more fitted than the other slobs up there. But why, why would some anonymous bureaucrat show up in such nice threads? And how? Between the looks and the digs, he seems to be emulating a politician. Just without the poise, rubbing his hands against each other as his face turns from white to pale. He makes eye contact with Jack, who just stares him down.
Board Member #1: Well Adam, have you reached a decision?
All but ignoring their insistence, Adam Strator turns from pale to ashen as Diamond keeps locked in. With a gulp the board member answers.
Strator: Actually….I decided to support the PLA. My vote is yay.
Board Member #3: You gotta be joking!
The crowd is in a frenzy - well more just a soft murmur.
Board Member #1: Then this matter is settled. The Project Meeting Agreement has been accepted - the proper paperwork and procedures will begin immediately. This concludes….
Before the meeting can wrap up, Jack Diamond stands up and walks out of the room. Turning back to the board, which is now dispersing, Strator reconnects eye contact. After a brief pause he gives a head flick toward the exit. Jack steps out as Adam Strator awkwardly chats with attendees. Heading down the hall, Diamond opens the door for a staircase. Strator is not far behind, stepping into the stairwell so they can have a bit of private conversation.
Strator: I can’t believe I just did that.
Jack: Slick you made a call; the chips were down, you had to do something. And odds are you helped all the saps and suckers in Vegas trying to eke out a living.
Strator: Yea but we both know that’s not why I did it.
Jack: Is that right?
Strator: I did it because your boss
This is why Jack left professional gambling for wrestling in the first place - suckers are just far too willing to put their cards on the table if they think they got a strong hand. He plays along though
Jack: My boss?
Strator: Yea, you know who I’m talking about
Jack: Let me be clear: I don’t work for that joker.
Strator: Associate then, whatever you want to call it. He put the screws to me, would have ended my campaign for Las Vegas mayor before it ever had a chance.
Diamond’s poker face had to be strong, since his gut reaction was to laugh in this man’s face for thinking he ever has a chance of a political career.
Jack: But since you did his bidding….
Strator: Now he is going to make sure it gets funded - not just me and the wife going to Kinkos and putting up posters on our cul-de-sac. No this time we will be going big.
His poker face stays strong
Jack: No doubt the pigeons will come flocking to the polls to support you.
A gleam appears in Adam Strator’s eyes.
Strator: Yea! Mayor, then congress, then...who knows. This is the start of a political career and legacy unlike Nevada, even these United States, has ever seen. Speaking of start though…
Bumbling Strator tries covertly moving his hand toward Jack, partially covering it up with his suit jacket. Diamond just stares the guy up and down.
Jack: What on Earth are you doing slick?
Strator: Well, I figured you brought the first installment...like me and your boss...sorry associate...agreed upon. That way I could get the ground game going.
Jack: You thought I would bring something like that here? In what like a suitcase chained to my arm?
Strator: I figured like a brown paper bag, or an envelope or…..
Jack: My advice sucker, stop with all the gangster movies. As for your first installment, that is somebody else’s department. All I came here for was to watch how this meeting played out.
Strator: Oh….so…..
Jack: Yea….you should go slick, kiss some babies and jazz like that. I will see you again soon.
Disappointed and uncomfortable, the suit with a winning complexion and losing personality walks back out into the hallway. We can here him trying to put on a charismatic front for the public until the door closes behind him. Jack pulls out a pen and small, reporter-sized, paper pad from inside his jacket. Flipping through he stops on a page of names.
Ali
Gunther
Maijong
Strator
Thomas
Taking his pen he circles: Strator