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Supercard Archives / R.O.A.R. vs GFH vs FLYING JETTS vs SURF BOYS
« on: October 10, 2015, 08:18:32 PM »
The camera cuts in to the Hollywood Boulevard bar. The decades old bar is as beaten to shit as ever. The exposed brick going down the far wall, which no doubt was once a centerpiece of the facility, is in utter decay, with bricks half fallen out of the wall. The bar is empty save for two men sitting at the bar and the bartender. One man is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt. His long hair is tied up in a bun on top of his head and he has the beginnings of a beard sprawled across his face. He stares straight ahead as if deep in thought. The man next to him is wearing a flannel shirt and his head is face down on the bar as if he were passed out. His hair is longer and a bit greasy and his build is a little bigger than the slightly taller man sitting next to him at the bar. The bartender just stands across from them, polishing glasses, not paying any mind to them. As we look closer we can see just exactly who the two men are. The one with his face buried in the stainless steel bar top is Jeremy Jett. Next to him, with the stone cold look in his face staring straight ahead, is his brother Jason Jett.
Jason: Why do you think that after all this time they finally came calling again? Why do you think now they’re finally willing to forgive us and move on? Do you know why, Jeremy?
He looks at his brother who is still passed out on the bar top. Jason sighs a bit and then smacks his younger brother in the back of the head.
Jason: Wake up!
The slightly younger Jeremy Jett pops his head up in alarming fashion. He looks around for a bit confused about what just had happened and then turns to his brother.
Jeremy: What the fuck?
Jason turns his cold stare in Jeremy’s direction.
Jason: What…the…fuck? I’ll tell you what the fuck is…
Jeremy rolls his eyes a bit almost as if he knows what his brother is about to say.
Jason: The FUCK is that it is finally time. We finally got the call. No more fucking around here in Santa Monica anymore little brother. They’ve finally understood where we belong. They have finally acknowledged that our time has come. They finally-
Jeremy cuts off his brother.
Jeremy: Or maybe they just need some enhancement talent for their weak ass tag division? I’m getting sick and tired of this, Jay. Every single time some promotion calls to for a ONE MATCH deal you go through the same fucking speech. And guess what? Every single time we have the match, whether we win or lose, we don’t get another one. People call us to fill out their match card, big bro. They don’t call us because they want to put our names in bright lights. They don’t call us because they even want our names on the card. They call us because they don’t have anyone else to call. It’s as simple as that. So I apologize if I don’t feel like listening to your rah-rah speeches anymore. I’m ready to finally admit it to myself. We ain’t got no SKILLZ and there ain’t no THRILLZ from Beverly HILLZ. It’s over. I’ll collect this one paycheck and then I’m fuckin’ done, bro. Peace to the biz after this one.
Jason continues staring at his brother, motionless and expressionless, waiting for a moment to collect his thoughts and process what Jeremy had just said to him.
Jason: After this one? You don’t understand, Jeremy. There is no after this one. This is the only one. This is it. Yes…they called us for enhancement talent because they don’t have anyone else to put in the match. Yes they expect us to come in and lose. Yes we are only meant to be there for one night. But what you are seemingly forgetting is that this match…this time…this one is for the Tag Team Championship bro. If we win…if we defy all odds and come out on top…then we are the Champions of the World. They won’t see it coming bro. But when we win…
He leans in toward his brother.
Jason: …and we will win…there won’t be anymore getting rid of us, kid. We will be on top of the world and everyone else won’t have a choice but to finally pay us the respect that they deserve. They will remember the names Jeremy and Jason Jett. They will remember the night we came in and took the fucking house down by storm and reigned as the Tag Team Champions of the world. They will-
The bartender cuts Jason off.
Bartender: Don’t you ever get tired of just talking shit?
He laughs as Jason stares his ice-cold look at him. The bartender can’t help but laugh harder as Jason continues to stare at him.
Bartender: Come on, man. You can’t honestly think that you intimidate anyone…do you?
He laughs again as Jason continues to look at him. Jeremy can only shake his head and look away. Out of nowhere, Jason grabs the bartender by his throat and slams his head into the bar top. Jeremy jumps out of his stool as he’s caught by surprise by his brother’s violent response. Jason holds the bartender’s head down with his cheek pressed firmly into the stainless steel bar as the bartender he tries to wiggle free to no avail. As he watches his squirm, Jason begins to smile and his brother looks on in shock.
Jeremy: What the fuck, bro? Let him go.
Jason turns to his brother, still smiling.
Jason: No. I’m not letting go anymore.
Jeremy: Dude! You gotta let him go.
Jason ignores what Jeremy says and continues to stare straight at Jeremy. Jason’s eyes seem dark and narrow as a twisted smile comes across his face.
Jason: Hit him.
Jeremy: What are you fucking nuts bro? We gotta get outta here before this fucking guy calls the cops. Come one let’s go.
Jason responds with a burst of anger.
Jason: I SAID HIT HIM!
Jeremy freezes. He’s never heard his brother speak this way before. He’s never seen his brother act this way before. Something had changed and he didn’t know why but at this moment, he began to understand. He began to see clearer. He looked at the bartender frantically trying to escape Jason’s stone cold grip. Jason let out almost a maniacal burst of laughter, as the moment seemed to slow down for Jeremy. He watched his brother basically torture another human begin and enjoy it and he felt as if he watched it in slow motion. His trance like state was broken by Jason’s angry call once more.
Jason: HIT HIM!
Jeremy gave in. He struck the bartender in the head. And again. And again. He didn’t stop. He kept going even as the blood began to spray up into his face. He kept striking as the loud laughing from his brother drowned out the screaming and then moaning from the bartender. He hit him with all of his might and just as he thought he should stop an uncontrollable urge to smile came across his face. From ear to ear he grinned as the camera cuts out.
We fade back in inside of a small gym. The place has seen better days. The sheetrock on the walls is literally peeling off and there is garbage all over the floor. Jeremy Jett is in the center of the run down place hitting a heavy bag. He is wearing what look like thirty-year-old boxing gloves. He slams his fists repeatedly into the bag as sweat pours out of his forehead. After a few minutes of him working out, Jason walks in, laughing.
Jason: Really? Out of all the things we could be doing right now you’re throwing more punches? You didn’t get enough of them in yesterday?
He smiles as his brother Jeremy suddenly stops swinging his fists. Jeremy glances over at Jason with an obvious look of disgust on his face.
Jeremy: We could’ve killed that guy.
Jason continues to smile as he plops down in a dirty old chair and puts his feet on top of what appear to be a pile of Jeremy’s clothes.
Jason: Correction. You could’ve killed him.
Jeremy: Don’t put this on me.
Jason bursts out laughing.
Jason: What’s the matter? Feeling guilty? Where was that conscience yesterday?
Jason again lets out maniacal laugh as Jeremy’s look of disgust becomes more apparent. He throws off his gloves and heads toward a bottle of water a few feet away from him.
Jeremy: You’re crazy!
Jason immediately stops laughing and jumps up.
Jason: Am I? Am I really? I saw that joy you felt in your eyes when you beat that pathetic sniveling man into a pulp. I saw how much you enjoyed it. Don’t deny it, little brother.
Jeremy: You’re sick.
Jason: I am sick! I’m sick and tired of being second, third, and fourth fiddle to people that are don’t have half the fucking talent that I have in my left nut. Look at the trio of idiots we’re supposed to be enhancement talent for next week.
Jeremy: What about them?
Jason: Dark Tiger? Big Tiger? This fucking guy couldn’t lick my boots in ACW. And we’re underdogs to him?
Jeremy: It’s not like that. You knew what this was when they called us.
Jason: BULLSHIT! Where’s our chance, brother? When is it gonna be our time. We deserve it more than these jokes You know that just as much as I do. It’s our time, Jeremy. It’s our fucking time.
Jeremy: Our time doesn’t exist, Jason. It’s time that you started to accept that. We can make a good living just being there as extra guys. What’s the harm in that?
Jason runs over and in a fury grabs Jeremy by his t-shirt collar. He shoves him back into the dirty wall, still holding his shirt collar, and puts his face right in front of Jeremy’s.
Jason: The harm? The harm is that I have waiting too long to be noticed. I have sacrificed too much to be fodder for a fucking dick named Narley. If you want to job to some bald headed freak and his muscle bound boy toy who pretend to be some sort of mercenary outfit who just lost do a fucking guy who calls himself BIG TIGER? Then so be it. But I will not be held down any more. I will not go unnoticed any longer. I am Jason Jett and hear me ROAR!
Jason all of a sudden lets go of his brother’s shirt and starts to laugh almost uncontrollably.
Jason: Did you hear what I said? Get it? Hear me…Roar?
Jeremy just stares at his brother with a look that is one half concern and the other half terror.
Jason: Get it…because that’s their name…Roar?
Jeremy: Are you ok?
Jason stops laughing.
Jason: I am more than ok, Jeremy. For the first time in my life I feel free. I feel ready to take life by its fucking horn and ride that bitch like it’s the Cowabunga From Down Undah. If you’re not with me then you’re against me. And I need to know right now little brother. Are you with me?
Jeremy stares at his brother. He takes a deep breath and then slowly speaks up.
Jeremy: I’m with you.
He wasn’t sure if he really was. But he was too scared to find out what would happen if he said he wasn’t Jason lets out a big smile and pulls his brother in suddenly for a hug.
Jason: You’ll see baby bro…the world is fucking ours….
The camera cuts out.
{END FEED}
Jason: Why do you think that after all this time they finally came calling again? Why do you think now they’re finally willing to forgive us and move on? Do you know why, Jeremy?
He looks at his brother who is still passed out on the bar top. Jason sighs a bit and then smacks his younger brother in the back of the head.
Jason: Wake up!
The slightly younger Jeremy Jett pops his head up in alarming fashion. He looks around for a bit confused about what just had happened and then turns to his brother.
Jeremy: What the fuck?
Jason turns his cold stare in Jeremy’s direction.
Jason: What…the…fuck? I’ll tell you what the fuck is…
Jeremy rolls his eyes a bit almost as if he knows what his brother is about to say.
Jason: The FUCK is that it is finally time. We finally got the call. No more fucking around here in Santa Monica anymore little brother. They’ve finally understood where we belong. They have finally acknowledged that our time has come. They finally-
Jeremy cuts off his brother.
Jeremy: Or maybe they just need some enhancement talent for their weak ass tag division? I’m getting sick and tired of this, Jay. Every single time some promotion calls to for a ONE MATCH deal you go through the same fucking speech. And guess what? Every single time we have the match, whether we win or lose, we don’t get another one. People call us to fill out their match card, big bro. They don’t call us because they want to put our names in bright lights. They don’t call us because they even want our names on the card. They call us because they don’t have anyone else to call. It’s as simple as that. So I apologize if I don’t feel like listening to your rah-rah speeches anymore. I’m ready to finally admit it to myself. We ain’t got no SKILLZ and there ain’t no THRILLZ from Beverly HILLZ. It’s over. I’ll collect this one paycheck and then I’m fuckin’ done, bro. Peace to the biz after this one.
Jason continues staring at his brother, motionless and expressionless, waiting for a moment to collect his thoughts and process what Jeremy had just said to him.
Jason: After this one? You don’t understand, Jeremy. There is no after this one. This is the only one. This is it. Yes…they called us for enhancement talent because they don’t have anyone else to put in the match. Yes they expect us to come in and lose. Yes we are only meant to be there for one night. But what you are seemingly forgetting is that this match…this time…this one is for the Tag Team Championship bro. If we win…if we defy all odds and come out on top…then we are the Champions of the World. They won’t see it coming bro. But when we win…
He leans in toward his brother.
Jason: …and we will win…there won’t be anymore getting rid of us, kid. We will be on top of the world and everyone else won’t have a choice but to finally pay us the respect that they deserve. They will remember the names Jeremy and Jason Jett. They will remember the night we came in and took the fucking house down by storm and reigned as the Tag Team Champions of the world. They will-
The bartender cuts Jason off.
Bartender: Don’t you ever get tired of just talking shit?
He laughs as Jason stares his ice-cold look at him. The bartender can’t help but laugh harder as Jason continues to stare at him.
Bartender: Come on, man. You can’t honestly think that you intimidate anyone…do you?
He laughs again as Jason continues to look at him. Jeremy can only shake his head and look away. Out of nowhere, Jason grabs the bartender by his throat and slams his head into the bar top. Jeremy jumps out of his stool as he’s caught by surprise by his brother’s violent response. Jason holds the bartender’s head down with his cheek pressed firmly into the stainless steel bar as the bartender he tries to wiggle free to no avail. As he watches his squirm, Jason begins to smile and his brother looks on in shock.
Jeremy: What the fuck, bro? Let him go.
Jason turns to his brother, still smiling.
Jason: No. I’m not letting go anymore.
Jeremy: Dude! You gotta let him go.
Jason ignores what Jeremy says and continues to stare straight at Jeremy. Jason’s eyes seem dark and narrow as a twisted smile comes across his face.
Jason: Hit him.
Jeremy: What are you fucking nuts bro? We gotta get outta here before this fucking guy calls the cops. Come one let’s go.
Jason responds with a burst of anger.
Jason: I SAID HIT HIM!
Jeremy freezes. He’s never heard his brother speak this way before. He’s never seen his brother act this way before. Something had changed and he didn’t know why but at this moment, he began to understand. He began to see clearer. He looked at the bartender frantically trying to escape Jason’s stone cold grip. Jason let out almost a maniacal burst of laughter, as the moment seemed to slow down for Jeremy. He watched his brother basically torture another human begin and enjoy it and he felt as if he watched it in slow motion. His trance like state was broken by Jason’s angry call once more.
Jason: HIT HIM!
Jeremy gave in. He struck the bartender in the head. And again. And again. He didn’t stop. He kept going even as the blood began to spray up into his face. He kept striking as the loud laughing from his brother drowned out the screaming and then moaning from the bartender. He hit him with all of his might and just as he thought he should stop an uncontrollable urge to smile came across his face. From ear to ear he grinned as the camera cuts out.
We fade back in inside of a small gym. The place has seen better days. The sheetrock on the walls is literally peeling off and there is garbage all over the floor. Jeremy Jett is in the center of the run down place hitting a heavy bag. He is wearing what look like thirty-year-old boxing gloves. He slams his fists repeatedly into the bag as sweat pours out of his forehead. After a few minutes of him working out, Jason walks in, laughing.
Jason: Really? Out of all the things we could be doing right now you’re throwing more punches? You didn’t get enough of them in yesterday?
He smiles as his brother Jeremy suddenly stops swinging his fists. Jeremy glances over at Jason with an obvious look of disgust on his face.
Jeremy: We could’ve killed that guy.
Jason continues to smile as he plops down in a dirty old chair and puts his feet on top of what appear to be a pile of Jeremy’s clothes.
Jason: Correction. You could’ve killed him.
Jeremy: Don’t put this on me.
Jason bursts out laughing.
Jason: What’s the matter? Feeling guilty? Where was that conscience yesterday?
Jason again lets out maniacal laugh as Jeremy’s look of disgust becomes more apparent. He throws off his gloves and heads toward a bottle of water a few feet away from him.
Jeremy: You’re crazy!
Jason immediately stops laughing and jumps up.
Jason: Am I? Am I really? I saw that joy you felt in your eyes when you beat that pathetic sniveling man into a pulp. I saw how much you enjoyed it. Don’t deny it, little brother.
Jeremy: You’re sick.
Jason: I am sick! I’m sick and tired of being second, third, and fourth fiddle to people that are don’t have half the fucking talent that I have in my left nut. Look at the trio of idiots we’re supposed to be enhancement talent for next week.
Jeremy: What about them?
Jason: Dark Tiger? Big Tiger? This fucking guy couldn’t lick my boots in ACW. And we’re underdogs to him?
Jeremy: It’s not like that. You knew what this was when they called us.
Jason: BULLSHIT! Where’s our chance, brother? When is it gonna be our time. We deserve it more than these jokes You know that just as much as I do. It’s our time, Jeremy. It’s our fucking time.
Jeremy: Our time doesn’t exist, Jason. It’s time that you started to accept that. We can make a good living just being there as extra guys. What’s the harm in that?
Jason runs over and in a fury grabs Jeremy by his t-shirt collar. He shoves him back into the dirty wall, still holding his shirt collar, and puts his face right in front of Jeremy’s.
Jason: The harm? The harm is that I have waiting too long to be noticed. I have sacrificed too much to be fodder for a fucking dick named Narley. If you want to job to some bald headed freak and his muscle bound boy toy who pretend to be some sort of mercenary outfit who just lost do a fucking guy who calls himself BIG TIGER? Then so be it. But I will not be held down any more. I will not go unnoticed any longer. I am Jason Jett and hear me ROAR!
Jason all of a sudden lets go of his brother’s shirt and starts to laugh almost uncontrollably.
Jason: Did you hear what I said? Get it? Hear me…Roar?
Jeremy just stares at his brother with a look that is one half concern and the other half terror.
Jason: Get it…because that’s their name…Roar?
Jeremy: Are you ok?
Jason stops laughing.
Jason: I am more than ok, Jeremy. For the first time in my life I feel free. I feel ready to take life by its fucking horn and ride that bitch like it’s the Cowabunga From Down Undah. If you’re not with me then you’re against me. And I need to know right now little brother. Are you with me?
Jeremy stares at his brother. He takes a deep breath and then slowly speaks up.
Jeremy: I’m with you.
He wasn’t sure if he really was. But he was too scared to find out what would happen if he said he wasn’t Jason lets out a big smile and pulls his brother in suddenly for a hug.
Jason: You’ll see baby bro…the world is fucking ours….
The camera cuts out.
{END FEED}