Nak 3.21: Timesplitters

[Derek]

THE PAST THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

Steve Austin barrels down a gravel road, kicking up gray dust around hi “mobile office.” Hershey the Wonder Dog curls into a ball on the passenger seat, watching Steve shake his head in response to the voice being broadcast though the hands-free system. “Ah hell, Jim, I don’t know if this is a good idea. We’re almost to Mania, I can’t afford to let anyone shit the bed right now.”

The comforting drawl of Jim Ross rings out from the radio. “I understand that, Steve, but I’m telling you, I think he’s ready. And you know as well as I do, if it doesn’t happen around Mania, it’s almost like it never happened at all.”

The truck whips down a side path, skidding momentarily. Steve doesn’t seem to notice. “ I could watch him kick people all day, but I just don’t know if I’m comfortable giving him a live microphone in the middle of my ring. Sorry Jim, it ain’t happening.”

THE FUTURE THAT WAS

People are still slowly filing into the stadium, with the sun looming bright overhead. Excitedly chattering to one another as they focus on finding a gimmick table or grabbing overpriced concessions in collector cups, or simply struggling to find their seats. Most eyes are not trained on the actual ring set at this point, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any action happening down there. A parade of twenty EBWF-approved superstars are currently marching to the ring to one of Wrestlemania’s handful of licensed theme songs, their individual presences going unannounced.

It’s a who’s who of current and past stars. Zack Ryder leads the way, wide smile on his face and camera in his hand. Big Ryck brings up the rear, flexing and grunting. Dean Malenko and Raven provide a smattering of veteran recognition pops from the few people who notice them. Brian Kendrick, clearly under the influence of some sort of chemical, nearly falls off the walkway. Ted DiBiase Jr just sort of looks sad as he watches his former tag partner prancing in front of him in star makeup.

Shinsuke Nakamura finds himself firmly in the middle of the procession, half-heartedly flipping his wrists in a pantomime of his normal entrance dance to the gentle applause of the scattered masses who have completed their pre-pre-show preparations. Due to time and logistical restraints, he was disallowed from wearing his leather jacket to the ring, but politely declined the official Wrestlemania t-shirt that most of his nineteen opponents are wearing to the ring.

The bell rings and all twenty men start inelegantly punching and grabbing towards one another. It’s artless and chaotic, with nowhere for the rare eyes on the ring to be drawn to. Ryder sneaks up behind Shinsuke and grabs a headlock. “Hey bro! Your first Wrestlemania, congratulations!”

Nakamura claws at Ryder’s arms, trying to break the hold as he looks through the sea of forgotten faces and at the still half-empty arena. This was not how he foresaw this panning out. Maybe he should have called that cowboy back again.

THE PAST THAT IS

Steve Austin stares at a ripped and torn section of his fence, feeling very annoyed but in way relieved at the timing. On the one hand, it’s a good thing he was making his rounds on the ranch today or else it could have been weeks until he noticed this, and who knows how many unwanted guests could get in. Also, with such a stressful few weeks still to come, the chance to do some manual labor will give his mind a break for the afternoon. On the other hand…”What the damn hell put a hole in my goddamn fence?”

His phone rings. With an annoyed grunt, he flips it open. “What? I ain’t got time to chat right now, something put a hole in my damn fence, now I gotta spend all day driving to the store and back again and fixin’ the damn thing, so whatever it is, say it quick. He wants to do what? Are you sure? He won’t take no for an answer, huh? Tell you what, Jim, I got too much to worry about right now to argue, tell him fine, if he wants it, he’s got it. Give him the microphone, but if he bombs, it’s on him.”

THE PRESENT

The Toyota Center is already buzzing, and this is only the dark match. Bray Wyatt had spent the last five minutes toying with a beloved local wrestling star to get the crowd warmed up, then let the hometown hero get a nice amount of shine before shutting him down with the Sister Abigail. As his music fades away, the crowd is at a fever-pitch, anxious to see what final developments take place before Wrestlemania.

When the high oriental flute and pulsing bassline of ‘Subconscious’ come over the speakers, the crowd erupts at a second preshow surprise. Shinsuke Nakamura makes his dance down the ramp to the appreciative cheers and can’t help but make his joy at the reception show all over his face. He steps onto the apron, and teases entering the ring, but ends up sitting on the middle rope and dangling his feet inside. He gestures for Christy Hemme to bring him her microphone. “ They said, ‘Shinsuke, remember to stand in the middle of the ring and face the camera.’ But I think the camera should come to the king, yes?”

It’s amazing how even the simplest act of perceived rebellion can endear someone to a wrestling crowd, who roar in approval and begin to chant ‘KING OF STRONG STYLE’ as a cameraman indeed crawls into the ring to get a better shot of the grinning Nakamura. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” Another cheer. “I have noticed that in America, you talk. A lot. In Japan, we settle our business in the ring with our hands, and save the…eh….chatter, for the press conference later, yes? Here, they like you to talk to the cameras. Well, Nakamura has already shown that he is best at fighting, so why not also be best at talking, ha!”

The crowd, more filled with smart and knowledgeable fans than your normal television taping, cheers in support as Nakamura slides between the ropes and up to his feet, throwing in a Thriller-style shoulder bump for good measure to another pop. “I asked if I could come down here tonight before all the crazy things that will surely happen, so that I could say thank you. Thank you for bringing me to America. Thank you for welcoming me to EBWF. And thank you for…cheering me last week as I kneed Mankind’s mask off.” Each gesture of appreciation is returned with a roar of approval, as Shinsuke meanders across the ring as if attempting to make time with each part of the crowd. “That was quite the fight, I have been feeling it all week. Not as much as he was though, eh? Mankind, it was a pleasure to face you, and I look forward to doing it again soon. Too bad the result will be the same for you, ha!”

He wanders over to the edge of the ring and points at the booth. “Tattoo Boy and Glasses! How long is it until Wrestlemania?” Corey Graves, his system still turned off, shouts off mic and Nakamura lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Eight days! Can you believe it? Are you excited?” The crowd assuredly cheers. “ I am excited too. I came here to be in Wrestlemania, the anticipation fills me with the electricity! Next year, you will see Nakamura in the main event, do you believe that?” Shinsuke climbs onto the turnbuckle as the crowd cheers in agreement with that idea. “Ah, so that it why they call you a smart crowd, eh? I believe it, you believe it, and soon the whole world will believe in it. This year is Nakamura’s audition, next year we will turn Wrestlemania into Puromania, ha!”

He hops down from the post. “We should start it tonight, yes? They said ‘Shinsuke, you have to make an impact,’ and we are going to do that, right into the side of Solomon Crowe’s face!

I almost flubbed there, I was about to call you Sami Callihan. You were having a small identity crisis for a moment, friend, weren’t you? Maybe a…swift kick can set your head straight once and for all, eh? We have some things in common, Sami Crowe. Both of us fight hard. You were a deathmatch wrestler, and you think that gives you an edge. But where do you think your lovely deathmatches came from? They were born here in Texas and grew up in Japan!” The crowd cheers predictably loud for the mention of Texas. “I never…eh…rolled around in your barbwire piles, no, but in Japan every match is fought with that same fury, that same life or death passion, and we know how to hurt you without without toys. You may be able to stand up to steel chairs, but will you stand up after a strong style knee? Ha!”

The cameras struggle to properly frame Nakamura as he struts around the ring with little regard to their placements, projecting an air of danger to the proceeding as he seems to weave in and out of the Tron. “And we have both been champions before. I know how it feels to see others with a belt you have held before. It burns to see others others get those chances first, does it not? It eats up your insides, and you would do anything to hold gold again. You might change your name. You might strike from the shadows. You may even learn a whole new language, ha! Tonight may prove to be the first step for one of us to reach our goals, Solomon. For you, to regain a title, for me to win one anew. We take that step together, but I intend to be the one that…breaks ahead.

I know it will be a shock for to face a man eye to eye tonight. You were far more comfortable attacking from behind last week. How you manage to sneak up on anyone with your three foot tall hair, I do not know. But I do know it is the mark of a coward. A man with no honor. Perhaps all of your scars make you…eh…skittish. You should be. Those can be opened back up again. Maybe you feel more comfortable hiding in your lair and talking. And talking. And talking. And talking. And then you can sneak up on people after you lull them to sleep. Action, Crowe, Nakamura is all about action.”

Shinsuke finally stops and faces the camera man. “But right now, I am talking. I am looking and talking directly to you, so I hope you brush your troll hair away from your ear holes and listen. Sami Zayn? He is a good man. He has the fighting spirit, and that’s something you can never understand, and that is why you will defeat him at Wrestlemania. And that is why you will not defeat me tonight. I picked up this microphone to play your game, but once you are in this ring, you will be playing mine. And that game always ends the same way……YEAOH!”

He tosses the mic back to Hemme as he rolls between the ropes and lands on his feet on the floor. He soaks in the cheers of the crowd as he preens all the way up the ramp and off the stage. Walking through the curtains, Nakamura is stopped by Steve Austin. “Well, I’ll be damned, son, that wasn’t half bad. And all that talk about hittin’ people gave me a damn blinder of an idea. Walk with me and let me see what you think about it. Hell of a thing to come from a broken fence.”

THE FUTURE THAT WILL BE

Shinsuke Nakamura adjusts the collar of his jacket in the dark underneath the stage. Stray beams from the spotlights bleed in through the cracks on the edges of the trap door. He places the crown on his head and reclines on his throne with a crooked grin. The whining high notes of traditional Japanese folk music signal his imminent arrival. The door opens, and Shinsuke ascends.

[Ashlee]

I love your promos.

They said, ‘Shinsuke, remember to stand in the middle of the ring and face the camera.’ But I think the camera should come to the king, yes?”

My favorite line :-)