An Introduction

The man standing in front of the camera is diminutive in stature, yet with his white hair standing on end, the wide smile upon his face, and the colorful bowtie around his neck, it’s clear that he makes up for his physical faults with ample personality. Behind him is a simple black banner with a tribal snake design in green, a canvas flag advertising the client he is bringing to Project: Honor, Jakeem “the King” Kobra. With an excitement in his voice, not unlike that of a carnival barker, he begins to address the viewers.

The image of Don Queen fades away, replaced by a previous recording that has been edited in to follow his introduction. While viewers may remain unaware, this new scene comes to us from the city of Grand Rapids, Michigan. To be more specific, we are looking inside of a two-story building, the first floor belonging to a mom & pop grocery store, and the second serving as the temporary apartment for the Indian immigrant and veteran wrestler named Jakeem Kobra. The simple, 2-room apartment is barely furnished, containing little more than a small refrigerator, some rugs on the floor, a few wicker baskets, and an incense burner currently filled and lit. Sitting in the center of this main room is the man in question. His legs are crossed, his eyes are closed, and his hands rest upon his knees. The many scars that decorate his body, including the one marking the loss of his voice, are obviously apparent, as he wears nothing more than a towel around his waist. His long, black hair hangs carelessly over his facial features, as still as the fifteen foot Indian King Cobra that is coiled by his side.

Deep in meditation and thought, Jakeem silently considers the circumstances that have brought him back to this country. After his last tour of the United States, he quickly realized that he was far from finished with the wrestling business. He returned to his native homeland, competing at the top of the card for promotions that had become familiar with his American work. It was during this time that something strange began to happen. Despite his scars and the terrifying reptile he brought to the ring, despite his use of barbed wire and flaming tables, his fan base had begun to grow. Yet it was not just the adults who were thrilled by his actions, but the younger fans as well.

Having been orphaned at an impressionable age, thanks to a desperate man with a weapon and his grandfather’s unwillingness to give in to injustice, Jakeem’s only role models during his teenage years were the wrestlers who would perform at the carnival that had taken him in. From them he learned bravery and nobility, while also learning desperation and deceit. Now, an acclaimed performer himself, the young fans of the Indian wrestling scene were looking up to him as he had looked up to the wrestlers of his youth. The awareness of that responsibility has begun to weigh on Jakeem and now threatened to constrict his mind and rob him of inner peace.

During his previous stint with American promotions, he had seen many competitors ascend to the highest levels of the business through questionable means. He had also seen those of a rare nobility do the same on occasion. Yet it was the ones who walked a fine line in the middle that had the most success, and it seemed to him that the times remained unchanged. Competitors like Jason Long, MYOJIN, Tara Fenix, and Elena DeDraca could play the role of a hero one minute and a villain the next. In the past, this had been the path he had chosen as well.

Now things were different. Now he was aware of the impressionable eyes that had fallen upon him. While his previous exploits on American soil had passed into history, Jakeem knew that this newest run could very well be filled with the questionable competitors and tactics of the past. So now, a choice was laid out before him. Could he continue to walk the middle road, thinking only of himself and his own success? Would he become the villain that played into his appearance and extreme tendencies? Or would he take the more difficult road and become the hero that stood up for some semblance of morality? It was a decision that weighed heavily upon his mind.

Having signed for two dates with Project: Honor, Fallout’s Purge and Proving Ground’s Black Friday, the opportunity was approaching to represent his native home and all of those who honored him with their support. Knowing that the familiar kiss of open flames and the penetrative sensation of sharpened metal and broken glass would soon reunite with the nerve endings of his flesh, Jakeem smiles as he raises his gaze to the stationary camera in front of him.

As he raises his arms, the tattoo of a cobra can be seen coiled around his right arm, from his shoulder to his fingertips. With fluid movement from both of his hands, he begins to communicate with his new audience through sign language, knowing that his agent and manager, Don Queen, will add the necessary subtitles in post-production.

“Greetings to the fans and warriors of Project: Honor. While many of you will be unfamiliar with me, I have taken the steps necessary to familiarize myself with as many of you as possible. The impending Purge and Black Friday shows will offer us all a rare opportunity to become better acquainted with one another. While I fully expect some of you to leave the memory of your names etched upon my skin, know that I am coming to do the same. It is not fame, fortune, or glory that I seek. It is not your championships I am looking to steal, but precious space within your limited memories. In honoring my own spirit and those who place their support behind me, I will leave a lasting impression among those of you who cross my path.”

“From Ozymandias to Havoc, Petey to Percival, and Casanova to Valkyrie; this message is meant for you all. Villain or hero, scoundrel or saint, I will show no partiality, giving you equal attention as would death itself. I bear no ill will toward any of you, so know that there is no malice behind what I am about to do. It is the path each of us has chosen, and I assume you are as aware of the consequences as I am. I will not apologize to you, rain praise upon you, nor mourn your passing. I am preparing my soul for this. Whether you can say the same is not my concern.”

“In closing, I look forward to honoring our sport through the blood we will spill and the sensations of pain we will share. May good fortune find you all, but may it not be at my expense. Let us go now to raise our souls into immortality.”

“Namaste.”

Jakeem closes his eyes once more as his breathing slows, every function of his body relaxed and controlled. The swirling tendrils of smoke from the burning incense begin to slow as his hands return to their motionless state upon his lap. He is content to have the introductions out of the way, and yet the turmoil of what lies ahead and the uncertainty of his moral path remains. As if sensing his companion’s troubled mind, the serpent at his side begins to uncoil, his head moving onto Jakeem’s crossed leg. From there, the snake glides upwards, wrapping itself around Jakeem’s midsection and torso. Any other human being might be terrified if a snake with such a deadly reputation were to wrap itself around their exposed body, and yet Jakeem makes no movements and shows no signs of distress. Finally, Sonjay’s head reaches his master’s shoulder, and the snake begins to whisper words of wisdom and comfort into his ear. Together, they manage to find peace of mind, and man and serpent are content.

For now.