"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a world title, must be in want of an ass whoopin'." ~ Jane Austen
The jet black helicopter hovered above the new arena. Its rotor blades whirled and groaned loudly against the twilight sky. The group that stood waiting for its landing covered their ears, and stepped several yards away cautiously. One woman, however, approached the vehicle close enough that she could have reached out and touched the landing skids. She grinned toothily at the helicopter, her pink and blue bangs hiding her almond eyes.
As the chopper landed on the giant â??Aâ? pad, the door swung open. Another woman, younger than the assistant who helped her out of the whirlybird, stepped out and surveyed the line of people assigned to her. Her brunette hair danced maddeningly over her shoulder; the blades slowing down at a snailâ??s pace. She kept her gaze on the group as she walked and listened to what her colleague informed her on.
â??Everything you have asked for is coming,â? Akane Summers shouted confidently, reading from a clipboard tucked in her arm whose papers threatened to flail against the wind. â??Lighting is already taken care of. There will be a midnight blue tint to them when not in use. This will cut down on costs and look good on camera. If we used standard, then weâ??d have to worry about UV rays and shadows where we donâ??t want them to be. There is also a backlight effect we can run with on special occasions, but repeated use can make the company look amateurish. Video quality is hi-def, at best 1080p on our computer screens.â?
â??What about sound?â?
â??The arena has strong acoustics, which is a pro and a con. Even a mediocre chant will look solid when weâ??re live, but the place will sound monstrous if they get really, really excited. In person it will be a sight. On camera? Maybe a bit too rowdy.â?
â??Volume control, then. Music?â?
â??Weâ??ve sent out requests, and we expect to pay royalties. The budget is covered. In my professional opinion, the songs we are asking for should not be a problem, Miss Autumn.â?
â??Excellent. Where is my roster?â?
Akane knew the question would be asked, and braced herself. â??Well umm there is a problem with that. Professional wrestling has hit something of a slump at the moment. Promotions are not willing to share talent. At least 98% of the industry is working with written contracts. Getting desirable acquisitions has been close to impossible.â?
Autumn sighed. â??How impossible?â?
â??...four.â?
â??Four? Are you telling me that we have signed four fucking wrestlers so far? Do you know how close we are to airing, Miss Summers?â?
â??...no I mean four able-bodies. One manager, three wrestlers.â?
Autumn closed her eyes. The noise from the helicopter was dying down, and conversation was returning to a normal volume. She stared at the line of personnel.
â??I will have to have a conference with the network. Theyâ??ll either pull us or cut our time in half. This is a disgrace, Miss Summers. I leave it up to you to find me freelancers who are willing to work an open contract. Hire local if need be. I did not want to have our seasonâ??s pilot full of nobodies, but sometimes we donâ??t get what we want.â?
â??Yes, maâ??am.â?
â??Pray they donâ??t expurgate this whole thing. Now, our last rendezvous you mentioned youâ??d find me a star. We were to meet here. So...where is he?â?
Akane brightened, and gestured to the end of the row of employees. A stocky, bearded man in a maroon suit nodded stoically. By his side was a slim, unkempt gentleman in aviators and gold chains. A Star of David hung loosely against his chest hair.
â??Ms. Autumn, may I present you The Moscow Mauler, WZCWâ??s own Victor Makarov!â?
The boss looked at the large Russian as a scientist would a specimen.
â??Charmed,â? she replied, extending a hand to Victor. The jewish man beside him took it and kissed it awkwardly for several seconds.
â??Oh thatâ??s good perfume. Dior? My ex wife wore Laurent, the basic braud.â?
â??...excuse me?â? Akane and Autumn said in unison.
â??Iâ??m sorry, forgive my manners. My name is Freddie Fortune, and Iâ??m Makarovâ??s manager. Call me Freddie. Or Fortune. Heck, you two can call me anytime.â?
Ms. Autumn stiffened. â??Are you sure these two are from WZCW?â?
Akane reddened. â??Ab-absolutely. The Mauler held gold there, and Mr. Fortune was a beloved personality for several years. They are major names in the business. Definitely the biggest we have signed.â?
â??That goes without saying, Summers.â?
â??Yes maâ??am,â? she replied, staring at the ground.
â??Well,â? Autumn continued, â?I plan on running a wrestling show, if funds permit me. It will be streamed through several websites as well as a reputable television station. Itâ??s been a few years since youâ??ve stepped foot inside a ring, correct? Can I trust you to make me some money, Mr. Makarov?â?
â??He canâ??t speak,â? Freddie Fortune told her. â??Had his tongue cut out. But I can vouch for my client. Heâ??s an international phenomenon. Best hands and feet in the game. You wonâ??t be disappointed.â?
â??See to it that heâ??s ready. I plan to make him my champion,â? she said, turning her heel and walking away.
Victor and Freddie waited awkwardly as Akane flipped through her notes.
â??Alright, it says here she has you down for the pilotâ??s Main Event. If you win the match, she will present you with the championship the following week in the middle of the ring. Your opponent will be...oh...oh crap.â?
Akane Summers stared dumbfounded at her clipboard. She bit her lip and turned her attention back to the two men.
â??It appears that position has not been filled yet. The two other wrestlers whoâ??ve signed do not meet Ms. Autumnâ??s standards and are to fight one another that same night. I will have to find somebody she will accept. Please overlook this rookie mistake. We here at Rope Break TV are committed to bringing every personnel up to speed as quickly as possible. This will not happen again.â?
She bowed apologetically before scurrying off to find Autumn. Freddie looked up at his client, and then looked back at the women leaving.
â??Well, this ainâ??t Russia... so weâ??ll take it, right?â?
Victor Makarov nodded.