Manipulation?

::::SCENE:  The former conference room of StarrSek Industries located inside the Best Arena.   The conference table is bare, most of the ergonomically correct (and ridiculously uncomfortable) chairs are empty.   The Marquis of MadagaStarr stands in front of a rolling bulletin board.   Behind the mobile bulletin board is the white board.

 

The Baron of Boca Jatton, his back to the conference table, looks past the bulletin board and at the white board with equal parts nostalgia and disgust.   How many hours did he spend in this very room strategizing….alone?   The Hollywood Bruvs.  Darin Zion and Brian Hollywood.  Where was Sektor?  Getting wasted, of course.

 

How many of his days and nights were spent in this very room by himself, coming up with new merchandising ideas?   StarrSek Industries pens, cups, track suits, and, of course, the relatively successful Sektor and Jatt Starr plush dolls marketed as “Best Friends”.   

 

What a fucking joke.

 

Hindsight being twenty-twenty.  It’s the little things the Jattlantic City Idol should have picked up on that would ultimately doom the partnership.

 

 The countless lonely hours he spent trying to make “StarrSek Industries” as big a name as The Best Alliance (even though “StarrSek Industries” could have been considered a subsidiary of the Best Alliance), the Legion of Darkness, Perfectly Marvelous, or even the Argonauts of Awesome.   Sektor did not give a rat’s rectum about the merchandising aspect of the team.  And he scoffed at the Best Friends line!  

 

Then there was the toxic nature of their relationship.   Jatt Starr, an alcoholic, struggling with sobriety, hanging out with Sektor, a known addict — alcohol, drugs, sex.   Jatt Starr believed that he could make amends for past transgressions by helping Sektor.  Unfortunately, the opposite was true.   Sektor corrupted the Mayor of ManJattan.

 

As he continues to stare silently at the blank, shiny glossy emptiness of the board, he feels something new: guilt.

 

Jatt enabled Sektor.   Sure, he made suggestions — Instead of going out to bars or hanging out on a liquor filled yacht, he was not assertive in his other options as far as hanging out on off weeks, cooking classes were met with expletive filled insults, going to Zombie-Con was met with derision, and then there was the very serious suggestion of taking a college course – Women’s Studies, he thought the Jattvian Prince was joking.   If anyone needed a Women’s Studies course, it was John Sektor.

 

How many drunken young women did the Champion of Jattanooga witness Sektor worm his way into?  “Worm” being the operative word in multiple contexts.   Sometimes, he wondered, what did these young women see in the “Gold Standard”?  He looked like a pervy drugpin porno producer without that sense of wealth and excess.  Jatt could never pinpoint the word until right now……sleaze.

 

It’s the “if’s” and “maybes” that keep the Jattsylvanian Count up at night.  And, of course, the recurring images of staring towards the ring as he was trapped, his head caught in a steel chair, begging for help, and then the sound of Dan Fucking Ryan stepping on the steel chair, the scream and then…..

 

…..nothing.   No recollection of anything except flashes of being in the back of an ambulance?  The EMT’s speaking in some foreign language….since it happened in Tokyo, it was probably Japanese.  And then waking up in the hospital.

 

The nostalgia, disgust, and guilt turn into anger, Jatt Starr’s arms begin to shake, his face turns a deep shade of red, his stomach starts to churn and burn, he clenches his fist.   He takes a moment to utilize one of the many meditation and calming breathing techniques that his ex, Alea, taught him, before clasping his hands behind his back, standing up straight with excellent posture and doing an about face like a general about to address his troops.  In this case, his “troops” are more of a “crew” or maybe a “band”.  It’s more accurately a trio.::::

 

JATT STARR:  People!  I have gathered you here together because in less than two weeks, the Ruler of Jattlantis has the fourth biggest challenge of his career behind Conor Fuse, Shane Reynolds, and Kostoff.

 

:::The Mayor of ManJattan hits the bulletin board nonchalantly behind him, but the screws are not tightened enough and the board flips quickly and bonks him on the head.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Damn it!

 

:::The Duke of Jattmandu rubs the back of his head, partially because it hurts but also to make sure a lump isn’t forming on the back of his head.  Anton Sanchez De La Croix Smythee IV, sporting a crumpled up tan suit and white shirt with half the buttons undone showing off his chest hair, snickers.  Jatt Starr, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, throws up an admonishing finger.::::

 

ANTON:  I’m sorry but I think the universe is saying you’re right fucked, old chap!

 

::::Jatt Starr looks behind him.  The other side of the bulletin board shows several pictures of Sektor.  One, which looks like a headshot, has Sektor smiling goofily through his moustache.  The Earl of GlouStarr makes an animalistic growling sound and proceeds to pull out from inside his coat a fountain pen, his lucky fountain pen, the one he uses when taking his calligraphy classes and begins stabbing the grinning face of the LSD Champion.  After about the seventh stab the head of the fountain breaks off.  Jatt Starr throws what is left of the pen on the ground and lets out a primal, frustrated scream.   Once again, Jatt Starr stops and begins to meditate, focusing on his breathing.  It takes about twenty to thirty seconds, but he finally calms himself down and turns towards his crew.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Sorry about that.  Where was I?

 

WABID WABBIT:  You never weawwy began.

 

::::The Wabid Wabbit sits directly across from Anton and is sporting a similar plaid suit that Jatt Starr is wearing only instead of 97red and black, it’s a hunter green and black.   The dead eyed stare of the Wabbit…er….Rabbit mask would normally unnerve the Savior of Starrkham, mostly because he has no idea what is going on behind that mask, but today he can’t be concerned with the Wabbit.::::

 

JATT STARR:  In less than two weeks, we, and by “we”, I mean “I”, will be going head to head with the human slime known as John Sektor.   It will not be easy!  I have to endure ninety-seven minutes with this man and failure is not an option.   My goal is to take away the one thing that means the most to him, the one thing that gives him purpose, the LSD Championship.   Under normal circumstances, we would watch tape, I would train, but we all know that Sektor is too good to just outwrestle, especially in an Ironman Match.   We have to outwit, outplay, and outlast him.  Conditioning, of course, will be key.  Anton….

 

::::The King of Jatten Island points to Anton with energy and purpose, the suddenness of it almost has Anton jolting out of his seat.::::

 

JATT STARR:  I need you to secure a ring and a giant alarm clock, one that is so loud it will wake the dead.  We are going to train and train and train.  I want it ready for in-ring training in no more than three days and I want tht alarm go off after ninety-eight minutes from sound of the bell.

 

ANTON:  Yes, sir!

 

JATT STARR:  Wabid Wabbit!  For the next three days you are watching Sektor videos, I don’t care if you stream it, YouTube it, DVD, VHS, I want you to go through every  single match of his career.  I want you to study his moves and you will be acting as him in training.  I am not taking any chances.  I am not going to be so overconfident as to say I know what he’s going to do before he does it, even though I do.  However, Sektor knows I know what he’s going to do before I do it, so he will counter that by throwing in some tricky maneuver he hasn’t done in ten years just to catch me off guard. Hell no!  We are going to run match after match after match until we come up with a winning combo.  You are from now…or, technically, after this meeting, eating, sleeping, breathing Sektor, got it?

 

WABID WABBIT:  I won’t wet you down.

 

JATT STARR:  That covers the “outplay” and “outlast” part of it.  But we need to come in with a solid plan.  I am open to all ideas, there’s no such thing as a bad idea.

 

WABID WABBIT:  Why have a pwan?  Why not just go in theah, both of you fight with heaht of wions and see who the bettah man weawwy is.

 

JATT STARR:  That’s the worst fucking idea I have ever heard.  You don’t think Sektor is going to use any means necessary to keep that belt around his waist?  He will use any underhanded means necessary.

 

ANTON:  Exactly.  Which is why we should use a maneuver that I did about fifteen years ago to this fucking twat called “Liability Lou”, insurance man from Tacoma, they called him, anyway, he had the personality and creative wit of moldy rice.  It’s called the “Trojan Jock Strap”  I went to ring, the ref’s back was turned, I reached down into my trunks, WHAM! I knocked his teeth in with a brass cup.

 

:::Jatt Starr is left almost speechless by the story, he attempts to process the story and all he can do is blink.   After about fifteen seconds of awkward blinking and an even more awkward silence he is finally able to say….::::

 

JATT STARR:  Any other ideas?  Anything?

 

ANTON:  There’s also the move known in Albania, loosely translated to English, called “The Scrotum Shits”.  How that works—

 

JATT STARR:  I really don’t think I need to know how that one works.

 

ANTON:  Are you sure?  If it’s something you are considering, I need to special order the itching powder and the lube.

 

JATT STARR:  I am good.  Really.  

 

ANTON:  There’s also the “Horatio Randy Splatter”, it’s a bit lewd, but there’s no—

 

JATT STARR:  You are not allowed to speak.  In fact, go, leave.  Get me ring.

 

ANTON:  Yo, ho,my capitan.  

 

::::Anton rises from his chair, proceeds to give his scrotal region a good scratch and proceeds to exit the room as Jatt Starr looks completely repulsed as if he had just seen a rotund middle-aged man scratch his balls in front of him.  Oh wait, he did.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Please, tell me, you have something better than this.   You’ve been so quiet.

 

::::The person to whom he is speaking looks up with her bald head.  Her wide eyes – one green, one amber – look distressed.   Gilda Starr, who has, for the past several months, been working as a stuntperson for several Canadian features such as “I Decapitated You, Sorry!” and “Death Moose IV: Hell Elk”, looks away, her eyes welling up, as if she is going to break down.   Jatt Starr, in a moment, allows Simon Sparrow to shine through.   His face shifts to one of concern.::::

 

JATT STARR:  What?  What’s wrong?

 

::::Gilda covers her face with one hand and tries to wave her father off with the other.  Jatt/Simon rushes over to Gilda and kneels down in front of her as the Wabid Wabbit looks away, upwards as if he is admiring the lights in the ceiling.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Gildy, what’s the matter?  Are you worried about me?  If so, don’t—-

 

GILDA:  No….It’s….

 

JATT STARR:  What?

 

GILDA:  You weren’t there….

 

::::The worry builds inside of Jatt/Simon.  He can feel his heart beginning to race, his breathing gets heavier and heavier.  He tries to hide his concern, speaking slowly, deliberately, unable to cover the cracks in his voice.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Gildy, it’s okay, whatever it is….

 

GILDA:  I came to visit you, you weren’t there.  He said you’d be right back….

 

JATT STARR:  Who said?  John said?

 

::::Gilda sheepishly nods as she sniffs and cries.   Worry slowly morphs into anger.::::

 

JATT STARR:  John….Sektor?

 

::::Gilda nods again, trying not to look at her father.   The shame on her face is unmistakable.::::

 

GILDA:  He….He…invited me in….he poured me a drink….we started….you know, talking, and uh, we drank more and more….the next thing I know….I was on the couch…he began kissing me….and we ended up….I can’t…

 

JATT STARR:  He took advantage of you????

 

::::Jatt/Simon bolts upright, he feels his body shaking, his face getting hotter and hotter.::::

 

JATT STARR:  I’LL KILL HIM!!!!  

 

::::Jatt/Simon begins stomping towards the bulletin board, ready to obliterate the fucking thing.  But Gilda stops him.::::

 

GILDA:  Wait!  There’s one more thing….

 

::::Jatt/Simon spins towards his daughter who is wiping the tears from her eyes with her hands.::::

 

GILDA:  You know the rage that you’re feeling right now?  That’s your edge.

 

JATT STARR:  What?

 

GILDA:  The only way to beat him is with your rage.  

 

::::Jatt/Simon goes from furious to confused as Gilda stands up confidently, no longer crying.::::

 

GILDA:  Don’t worry, dad.  Nothing happened between us.  I never liked him.

 

JATT STARR:  So, what, that story was a lie???

 

GILDA:  Not a lie as much as a “performance”.

 

JATT STARR:  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???

 

::::As relieved as he is to hear that Sektor did not take advantage of his daughter or even did what consenting adults do behind closed doors (he cannot allow his mind to go down that rabbit hole), Jatt Starr becomes angry at Gilda for even vocalizing the slander.  But Gilda just smirks and shrugs….a smirk he has seen many times in the mirror.:::::

 

GILDA:  Just because it didn’t happen to me, doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened to other girls  my age.   And for all I know, you were there for some of it.  At least that’s how Hugo explained it.

 

JATT STARR:  Scorpio??? That two faced fuck?  When did you speak to—?  Forget it.  For the record, though,  I never had sex with any—

 

GILDA:  Ew, stop.  I can’t even process that, gross.

 

::::He looks at his daughter, as angry as he is at her, she is right, she may not have gone about proving her point in the most ethical of ways (probably the exposure of making movies in Canada), but she is right.   Jatt Starr may not have been completely present for some of Sektor’s sexcapades, but he did enable it.  He was at the bars when Sektor picked up some of these young women.  Who knows how those young ladies felt afterwards?  Gilda, placing him in the role of one of those fathers, gave him a perspective he had never considered.  Yes, he did feel guilty before, but now the guilt has been magnified so much, he could start a religion around it.::::

 

JATT STARR:  That’s a fucked up thing to do.

 

GILDA:  You should know me by now and what my mother went through, that I would never let that creepy asshole touch me.  And if he did, I  would’ve called Uncle Mario or Mister Kostoff or castrated him myself.  I never liked the guy.   I should be the one offended here that my own father would think that of me.

 

JATT STARR:  I am sorry.

 

::::Now, the parental guilt kicks in.  Jatt Starr goes over to hug Gilda, knowing he should have realized her story was a hoax, but still, Sektor is sleaze, so he feels justified in reacting the way he did in the moment.  They embrace for a moment and Jatt Starr gives his daughter a kiss on her freshly shaven head as the Wabid Wabbit continues to just look around the room, anywhere but in the direction of Jatt Starr and his daughter.::::

 

JATT STARR:  You should really let your hair grow back.  

 

GILDA:  Dad, stop.   

 

JATT STARR:  What?

 

GILDA:  It’s for work.  I’m not exactly working for Wes Carpenter, with the prosthetics and wigs, it’s just easier.

 

JATT STARR:  Promise me you won’t pull that shit again.

 

GILDA:   I promise.  But, dad, you need to promise me something….if you really want to beat him, you remember my story.  You remember how you felt when you heard it.  Uncle Mario and I believe in you.  Beat him, dad.

 

::::The King of Jatten Island can only nod.  To verbalize it, would be opening the door to break a promise.   He knows that she is correct in that when he won his first LSD Championship at ICONIC, he did so by tapping into that caged fury, the darker version of himself that scares him, that version of himself that would threaten his sobriety.  If he can flip that rage on like a switch, those ninety-seven minutes will be the longest, most punishing and agonizing ninety-seven minutes in John Sektor’s life.   END SCENE.::::