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| Lattes and Lariats; Smith Jones and Nessa Wall at the gym | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 4 2017, 06:41 PM (102 Views) | |
| Smith Jones | Jun 4 2017, 06:41 PM Post #1 |
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Newbie
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Fade up on a shot of a turnbuckle pad in tight closeup. It’s a black cloth pad as is often the case with one word embroidered on it in white: Bumpz. We zoom out to see more of the ring and its environment. The canvas is classic gray. The ring ropes are freshly wrapped in white tape. We are in a fair sized room designed for combat training, but the room is not so large that it would contain too many people at a time. The walls are light gray, almost silvery. There’s a weight training area off to one side of the ring, a cardio area near the weight area, and there’s a series of light and heavy punching bags on the opposite side of the ring. Each training area has mirrors and hydration stations. On the wall behind the ring in the middle of the room is a black and white logo that says “Bumpz Fight Club” in large block letters with “Buckle Down” written a little smaller underneath. Smith Jones is lying flat on his back in the middle of the ring with his eyes closed. He’s dressed to compete in his all white training gear which consists of white amateur wrestling boots, white track pants, and a white tank top, accented at the wrists with white wrist tape. His face is not serene. He looks… impatient. His forehead is tracked with ridges of muscle as thoughts are churning beneath the silent stillness of him. The door across from the Bumpz logo swings open and Jones sits straight up to look at the person he’s been waiting for. He barks gruffly. Smith Jones: “You’re late! Some things never change.” The petite blonde stops in her tracks, regarding him for a second before she lifts her Starbucks cup to her lips, taking an annoying long drink of whatever’s inside. Nessa Wall: “Can’t function without my chai latte. You know how it is, sweetie - us basic white girls keep Starbucks in business. Not my fault the line was atrocious at this ungodly hour.” Jones grumbles long and low, contemplating a million angry responses. He swallows hard and counts to ten in his head. Smith Jones: “This is exactly what I was talking about. I can’t even believe I let you back into the gym. Coach Marx is turning in his grave, I just know it. Is that what you’re going to train in?” She looks down at the capri-length yoga pants she has on before kicking off her sandals in a show of childish defiance. Nessa Wall: “Better?” Smith Jones: “YOU were a tag team champion… sigh… When we get out there, just make sure you take all of this snarky aggression you’ve got going on and aim it across the ring. It’s the MAIN EVENT. Not sure how comfortable you are working in that position, but it’s pretty much my wheelhouse these days.” She rolls her eyes, finishing off her drink before sauntering over to drop the empty cup into the trash. Nessa Wall: “Place seems dingier than I remember…” Turning back towards Jones, Nessa starts to slowly unbutton the floral-patterned blouse she has on, a cocky smirk on her lips before the two sides part to reveal the pink and black UnderArmour sports bra she has on. Nessa Wall: “Orrrr, maybe that’s just your attitude? Either way…” She shrugs. “Check the ego, sweetie. If there’s anything that would have poor ol’ Marxy rolling over in his grave, it’s you acting like an entitled prick just because you have this dumpster fire as a claim to fame.” Smith Jones: “Whatever you say, Nessa. It’s MY dumpster fire and I’ll be as arrogant as I see fit. I like to keep the basics fresh in mind, so” Another thought takes over and he changes direction. “The Empire Code of Conduct. I made a public promise to uphold it… um… You don’t plan on any… unsavoury antics, do you?” Nessa Wall: “Unsavoury?” She laughs it off, dismissing his choice of word with a flip of her hand, “I would certainly NEVER do something to compromise your integrity.” Smith Jones: (with some trepidation) “Good. That’s good. I spent a lot of years being… well, you. I’ve come around to see that the negativity I spread across this business was a sad waste of my energy. I have loftier goals in mind now. Empire Wrestling is a great place for me to keep challenging myself to be a better man than the man so many people know… or knew me to be.” Nessa Wall: “How exciting for you!” The sarcasm almost drips from her words. “So are we going to work on a game plan or are you going to just lecture me on the pitfalls of being a terrible person until I die of boredom?” Smith Jones: “Eagerness. That’s a start, I suppose. Hop in! Let’s see if we can’t turn ourselves into the greatest tag team in all of wrestling!! Or at least the best team in the ring this Friday night.” Jones takes a deep breath and holds the ropes open for Nessa, hiding his intense reluctance to share the canvas with her. Nessa Wall: “I’ll settle for passable enough to eke out a win and never be booked alongside you again.” She ducks between the ropes, deliberately elbowing him in the process. Smith sighs hard. He lets this show of disrespect pass in the spirit of competition. He notices that she does not wipe her feet on the ring apron and also lets that slide. Perhaps he’ll drill her for that another time. They meet face to face in the middle of the ring and look into each other’s eyes. He wears a mask of intensity while she rolls her eyes at how seriously he always takes himself. Smith Jones: “Well then. Let’s play.” Fade to black. (Note: collaborative effort between both characters. Stay tuned for more.) |
@imSmithJones
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