::::SCENE: The scaffolding leading from the docks to the USS Octane. Jatt Starr, sporting a “Cobra Kai” Johnny Lawrence t-shirt, is leaning against a post at the entryway to the aircraft carrier (which doubles as free boarding for him and his Best Alliance teammates). The King of Grapple from the Big Apple is fidgeting with a rubber band by putting it around his wrist and snapping it whilst reflecting about Sektor.
He is one day removed from the last time he saw his so-called “friend”, who knocked a cheeseburger out of his hand.
“You’re always the one talking. Talk, talk, talk, fucking talk!’
“Why are you still fucking FAT?”
“We’re a fucking a JOKE!”
After several minutes, a taxi pulls up at the docks. Another moment passes and a short, portly man exits the vehicle, the trunk opens, the portly gentleman retrieves a large suitcase, drops it on the pavement, extends the handle, and proceeds to walk towards Jatt Starr.
Anton Sanchez de la Croix, owner and proprietor of the recently renamed “la Croix Boxing and Wrestling School, Gym, and Exotic Donut Shoppe”, smiling like the Cheshire Cat waves to the Mayor of ManJattan and bellows in his deep, faux British voice. Jatt Starr does not look up from his rubber band, he instead puts his left hand in his pocket.::::
ANTON: JATT STARR, DEAR BOY!!! I truly was taken aback by your sudden invitation TO….Tokyo. Allow me to OFFER my heartiest of thank YOUS for your generosity!
::::Anton is now standing in front of Jatt Starr, his yellow stained teeth being the first thing Jatt Starr sees.::::
ANTON: What a glorious land, eh mate? FULL of young, freaky BIRDS who dress up like cartoon characters! I shall be SPREADING my seed THROUGHOUT—-
::::Anton suddenly crumples down to the ground in a heap. A yellow stain begins forming around the crotch of his white linen pants as he involuntarily twitches on the ground. Jatt Starr nudges Anton with his foot and nods with pride and satisfaction as he looks at the burn marks on Anton’s peach colored shirt from the stun gun in his left hand. The stun gun, one of two, has been named “Hooch”. “Turner” has yet to be tested.
The stun guns, created by the top scientists of North Kaelrea and smuggled into this timeline from another reality by a certain Fusion Alternate Reality Teleporter Person (who shall remain nameless), are three times more powerful than the Vipertek VTS-989. The stun gun, which feels hot to the touch after use, is turned off with a press of a button, and placed back into his pocket. The Thane of Starrkarth pulls out his phone, which was perfectly encapsulated in his back pocket, and proceeds to make a call.::::
JATT STARR: Jack, tell my new best bud, my new bosom buddy Leave It to Stever that Hooch is a go!….Yes, I mean Steve Harrison and no, I’m not inviting him for drinks….No, I’m not inviting you either. Hooch is the stun gun…..Right…..Uh huh…Just give him the message.
::::The Baron of Boca Jatton hits the round red button disconnecting the call. The stench of a poorly maintained New Jersey rest stop Men’s Room starts wafting through the air, Jatt Starr’s face contorts into one of absolute disgust. Apparently, Anton added some gravy to his lemonade.
A twisted grin appears on the visage of the Champion of Jattanooga. The thought of using Hooch on Dan Ryan, watching that arrogant turd piss and poop himself in front of the world, there is a sick sense of accomplishment Jatt Starr will take in publicly humiliating him.
Jatt Starr already has two belts commissioned for post-War Games. The UADR and the UACF. It’s one thing to beat someone one time, but a second time? Well, that right there is a streak! One tag team victory over Dan Ryan, one singles victory over Conor Fuse.
For Jatt Starr, the feeling of having someone take over Darkwing’s place as the Jattlantic City Idol’s goat, there are no words.
But there is a small part of him, the part that takes things extremely personal, that wants to see Sektor lying in a heap after his posturing and holier than thou attitude he had taken with the Jatti Master. He pushes that thought away.
The Ruler of Jattlantis steps over the twitching, malodorous living carcass of Anton and heads towards the deck. Jatt Starr mentions to one of the guards stationed on the deck that he noticed a drunken, perverted degenerate lying on the ground on the docks and they should toss him in the ocean or do something to get him as far away from the USS Octane as possible. The guard, whose name Jatt Starr does not care to know, calls it in.
As he walks away, his thoughts quickly turn to the two stun guns in his pockets.
Turner and Hooch. The WBD’s (Weapons of Best Destruction). The Game Changers.
Jatt Starr can already hear the whiny little pundits who will say that the Hero of Jattlanta resorted to cheap tactics and using dangerous technology to gain an unfair advantage at War Games.
Who says war is fair?
History is written by the winners.
The Best Alliance are winners. It doesn’t matter how they get there, as long as they get there. It’s just faster this way. And with giving ol’Hooch to Steve Harrison, after a carefully worded contract is signed (Jatt’s no sap), the Harri-Starr merger will be completed. If Jatt Starr can evade elimination, standing there, in the end with Steve Harrison, it will be BIG. And it would show Sektor the err of his ways from a karmic standpoint.
Although, having two high powered and highly volatile stun guns created from the demented mind of Max Kael from an alternate reality so close to his genitals does concern him. Will they make him sterile? He quickly brushes that thought aside which is replaced by the bottle of tequila still in his duffel bag.
He has letters to write. Yes. Writing will help. In recovery, when faced with a need to drink (or use, in other people’s cases), it is important to find another outlet. Perhaps sending letters to some War Games participants will help.
And he shall send them by courier if they are to be delivered to their intended recipients before War Games.
BUT. He will NOT pay for the additional insurance.
Dear Darren Zyon,
You are the tofu of professional wrestling. You must serve some purpose, I do not know what it is, but it disgusts me.
Unfortunately, since you are illiterate, you cannot read this, and thus, any devastating insult I type would be completely wasted on you. Why am I even still typing this?
Does it even matter how I end this?
“The Literate” Jatt Starr
Dear Arthur Pheasant,
In true greeting card fashion, I wish you luck,
You’re the only one on your team who doesn’t completely suck,
But still, you are going to lose, regardless of odds,
Cuz in the end, you’ll be smited by the HOW gods.
HOW Hall of Famer, Jatt Starr
Dear Conor Fuse,
I should call you “Ishtar”.
When I decided to make my glorious return, I hand picked you as someone who could be my heir apparent. The one was to pass the torch to. So much raw talent. You were quirky, willing to play your own game by your own rules. You weren’t some Lynx or Kostoff retread. You were unique, someone who would succeed because of your quirkiness, not in spite of it.
At “Rumble at the Rock”, you showed me your potential, we battled until we bled. You came up short, and why wouldn’t you? You’re no Ruler of Jattlantis. Heck, you aren’t even a Prince of Fusia (Like “Prince of Persia”, get it?). But, you earned my respect and I expected great things from you. Boy, was I wrong.
Since then, you have been a major let down. A flop, if you will. You have wasted that potential on High Flyer, a C-List talent with a name blander than “Dan Ryan”, and Scottywood. When given an opportunity, you have SQUANDERED it. You defended the HOW Tag Team Titles and LOST. You were given the chance to become the HOW Champion and you FAILED. War Games will be no different.
You might call me “old” (and by “old”, don’t you mean “vintage”? Better call the hospital because you just BURNED) but I guess anyone under thirty would be “old” by your standards. It will take a lot more than words and a knowledge of “Super Mario Brothers” to take me down, especially from you. I will not be a punchline for you.
You are a major disappointment, Conor. I should know, people disappoint me all the time. Sektor, for one. Jace Parker Davidson (he should not have lost to Zion, can we agree on that?). Teddy Palmer (for knowing darn well that he cannot legitimately beat Clay Byrd so he resorts to trying to kill him by throwing him off the USS Octane in hopes he would drown and not coming clean about his intention and admitting that Clay Byrd is the better man).
My job is to make sure you do not walk out of War Games with the HOW Tag Team Championships, and while Sektor might be so consumed on winning the whole dang thing that he cannot see the forest for the trees, it’s up to me to disappoint you by ensuring that the tag team gold stays around the waists of the Best Alliance.
In closing, keep in mind, I did warn you. But you chose the path you are on with your Funyun Grappling 214, when, had you chosen the Best Alliance, you and I could have potentially held these tag team titles together. Unfortunately for you, I am left with other choice than to ensure that you go back home to the ‘Burbs of Philadelphia or wherever you are from, crying back to mommy by ANY means necessary.
At War Games, you will drown, Conor, because you are in way over your head. No magic mushrooms will save you. No power ups. No cheat codes. It will be a game that you won’t win, it will be just another squandered opportunity.
Consider it yet another teachable moment from your “older” lord and Jatti Master.
Future and Inevitable UACF Champion, Jatt Starr
Dear Xanadu Ovula,
Jatt “At Least I’ve Beaten Mike Best” Starr
::::After the Sultan of SeaJattle completes the letters, he still feels empty and unsatiated. Sektor’s disrespect of Jatt Starr and everything they accomplished together, is still festering and bubbling inside of him. After sending the letters out, he heads back to the USS Octane to hit the gym to work on the treadmill. For forty-five minutes he dwells on Sektor accusing him of not taking War Games seriously.
Jatt Starr has taken it seriously. Just not in the way people want him to. He has been trying to find the right strategy to come out on top (even if it is without the HOW Championship around his waist). War Games is a marathon, not a sprint. His goal was, after retaining the tag team titles, to lay low and allow the egos to battle it out, allow those who are fighting to win the whole kit and kaboodle at whatever the cost to pound the piss out of each other and wear each other down. War Games is not about who inflicts the most punishment or who pins the most people. It’s not even about winning.
It is about one thing and one thing only, survival.
After his time on the treadmill, he orders from a Japanese delivery service (some Takoyaki and Onigiri). It was lukewarm when it arrived (maybe that’s the traditional way to serve them, Jatt never had it before, so he could not say). After a brief conversation with Gilda, not letting on about the tension between he and Sektor, he expressed his confidence in going deep into War Games by also aligning with Steve Harrison. Gilda gave some words of warning and they said their good byes before Jatt Starr just laid on his bed, unable to sleep. His mind was operating nonstop, thoughts entering his mind, anxiety and anger building towards his former StarrSek Industries teammate. And there is that bottle in his duffel bag….:::::
:::::::The following morning, in the commissary, as the King of Grapple from the Big Apple was sitting (by himself), enjoying a breakfast of bacon and sausage, a conversation is had between Best Alliance members behind him. Steve Solex, Clay Byrd, and Steve Harrison (or maybe it was Cancer Jiles or Jace), in particular. Jatt Starr had no intention of eavesdropping, the voices behind him just happened to carry over to where he was sitting, as if by an imaginary carrier pigeon. The details were a bit jumbled, but the gist of it was Sektor was recently seen coked out of his gourd. This news does not just rattle the Earl of GlouStarr but it infuriates him. It infuriates him enough to seek out the office of Lee Best.::::::
:::The scene shifts to Jatt Starr, sporting a dark purple Thomas Aquinas: The Original Deep Fat Friar” t-shirt with two grease stains where he wiped his hands after abruptly leaving his breakfast, the HOW Tag Team Title is around his waist. His demeanor can only be described as agitated. The anxiety and anger he is feeling is overwhelming, his breathing is erratic, it is as if he is unable to muster the words he wants to say. Finally, the dam breaks.:::
JATT STARR: Fuck him!!!!
::::The words aren’t just said but spat out with disdain and abhorrence. There was a moment where a brief wave of relief washed over him, but it was short lived.::::
JATT STARR: The balls on Sektor! Sitting there looking in my eyes trying to blame ME??? The ONE person in the HOW who has supported him and had his back??? When HE’S the one who is out snorting up half the cocaine in Japan??? Oh, that is some real stinkin’ thinkin’ right there! After everything I’VE done for HIM???
::::The Thane of Starrkarth pauses for a moment to let those comments sink in. The lack of gratitude, the lack of loyalty, the lack of common fucking decency from his so-called “”friend”.::::
JATT STARR: We were given the honor and the privilege to defend the HOW Tag Team Championships at War Games. He treats it like it’s a fucking punishment. With our combined pet degrees, we gave the titles the meaning and relevance they haven’t had since Mario Maurako held them. He treats that like a giant pile of cat turds. StarrSek: B.A.T.T.L.E. was to show how we were a unified front, how we were doing to dominate as a team and he pisses that all away.
::::The Champion of Jattanooga’s mind is going a mile a minute, his thoughts bouncing around his noggin like a small rubber ball that used to be found in little candy machines at the grocery store bouncing in a small three by three box. Finally, he takes a breath before continuing.::::
JATT STARR: He sits there and lies to me about focusing and getting sober. That is unforgivable for someone who is an alcoholic. Did you know that I had to censor myself when I was talking to him. If I mention Gilda, I have to worry if he will flip out because he misses Chloe! And the fucking bars and clubs, acting as his wingman while he picks up some girl half his age. Trust me, those are a lot of freaking bars and clubs we went to. And he has the balls to call ME fat? He drinks fucking beer, tequila, whiskey, and everything else like a drunken sailor finding out Prohibition is returning! You should have seen him get all high and mighty with me! Like he lost all that weight himself, as if the cocaine had absolutely nothing to do with it!
:::The Jattlantic City Idol paces even faster now to the point where if there were a carpet in the office, he would be wearing it out. He is clearly fed up with all of Sektor’s selfishness. He looks down at the gold around his waist. When he looks up, there is despair on his face like someone just ran over his dog of eight years.::::
JATT STARR: He acts like I’m not serious about War Games. Being chosen to defend these titles in the name of the Best Alliance at War Games is not something the Jattinum Standard takes lightly. War Games is all about the numbers. We retain, we’re both still in it, dammit! I focus on the Tag Team Titles because the only way we both have a chance at winning is by keeping these belts around our waists. Clearly, he doesn’t give a rat’s rectum about me. It means I truly will be alone at War Games…
::::The Marquis of MadagaStarr realizes that even his deal with Steve Harrison isn’t something he can completely rely on to get him through the match. He knows his strategy is sound in getting to end, but it requires trust and commitment, he knew Steve Harrison was a fifty-fifty shot, but Sektor is now a degenerate junkie, and, from the shares he has heard in AA meetings, you cannot rely on a degenerate junkie.::::
JATT STARR: I can’t trust him. He has already stated we are done. Well, fuck him and his fucking moustache. I will retain the Tag Team Championships without him. What? He doesn’t think I can achieve the same success with another partner? I won the LSD Championship while he was playing freaking Chutes and Ladders with High Flyer. The thing is…..
::::The Champion of Jattanooga takes a long deep breath and exhales before he can gather up the nerve to finish his sentence.::::
JATT STARR: ….I cannot and will not enable him any longer. His rejection of our tag team partnership could be the result of the drugs frying his brain, but until he gets the help he needs, I want nothing to do with John Sektor. I can no longer be complicit in his self-destructive behavior. So, I respectfully ask, that after the next LSD Champion, Clay Byrd and I retain the Tag Team Championships, that Sektor and I never partner again. I am hoping you can remember all of that, I know it’s a lot, but thank you for listening.
::::The camera pans over to the door of Lee Best’s office, it is revealed that Jatt Starr is in the outer office aboard the USS Octane and the large, bald gentleman he has been speaking to is REDRUM, who looks expressionless.::::
JATT STARR: So, yeah, if you could just let Lee know, that would be Aces.
::::Lee Best’s massive and intimidating bodyguard just stares at Jatt Starr. The silence starts to become uncomfortable so the Sultan of SeaJattle chooses to believe that there was a nonverbal agreement between the two men that the message would be delivered.
Jatt Starr exits the office. There is much to do in the days leading up to War Games. He hopes to test Turner, continue to increase his time in treadmill to build endurance and work the cardio, toss that bottle of tequila into the ocean (he thinks maybe that’s where drunk like a fish comes from), solidify his alliance with Steve Harrison, and continue to praise the folk hero exploits of Clay Byrd. As far as Sektor is concerned, it is a temporary business arrangement, civility but no friendship. He is currently thirteen days sober. For Jatt, addiction and War Games have something in common, he has conquered both before….and he believes he can do it again….as long as he takes the right steps. END SCENE.::::