Post by Syndicate on Aug 8, 2021 23:16:35 GMT -5
SPORTSMAX HEADQUARTERS - LOS ANGELES, CA
AUGUST 6TH, 2021 - 4:14PM
?: "On his way to dinner...when it took him by surprise..."
We fade in to the outside of a twelve-story building found on the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and North Fairfax Avenue in Los Angeles, California. As cars of various shapes and sizes drive by, some trying to turn onto Santa Monica and others trying to avoid it at all costs, the camera focuses in on a familiar man pulling a pair of black wireless earbuds out of his ears and shuffling them into their case, right as Ozzy Osbourne's "Perry Mason" was about to enter its chorus. This is, of course, the Los Angeles Outlaw himself, Syndicate, who looks as though he had just gotten off the LA Metro in order to arrive here. Wearing a white form-fitting t-shirt that perfectly highlights his muscular torso, along with blue jeans and gray Under Armour sneakers, Syndicate looks up at the newly-expanded building in front of him. What once was just a combo Starbucks and Subway has turned into much more, with various shops and restaurants lining the street. In between all of those, however, stands a sizable portion of the building that's dedicated to one operation: SportsMax.
While he was between stints as a professional wrestler a few years back, Syndicate was employed at SportsMax as a sports agent, and was moderately successful at that job, but it wasn't what he wanted to do full-time. Once wrestling opened its doors again, Syndicate left SportsMax the first chance he could, allowing himself to be sucked back into the industry. These days, Syndicate finds himself as the client of his former partner at SportsMax, JJ Kline, who also happens to be a close friend of Syndicate and his wife, Sophie. Today, he finds himself at the doors of SportsMax for a meeting with JJ, which the agent himself had personally requested. The Los Angeles Outlaw sighs, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but here, and yet...here we are.
Syndicate: Here goes nothin'...
Syndicate steps forward and enters through two tall glass doors into the modern, open-concept office that SportsMax occupies. As a receptionist takes a call at the entryway desk, with a large red "SPORTSMAX" logo emblazoned on the glass wall behind her, we see a glass-enclosed conference room lining one side of the office with various desks on the other. In the middle, we see a ping-pong table, snack and drink bar, and a few couches - this is obviously where SportsMax takes their clients to keep them happy while real business is done behind the scenes. To the left of the receptionist's desk, we see none other than the man himself, JJ Kline, wearing a pressed blue suit and looking down at his phone, texting someone, which prevents him from seeing Syndicate walk in. Before Syndicate can get his attention, however, a college-aged man strides over to JJ, with a pack of papers in his brown leather satchel.
?: Mr. Kline, here are those contracts you had requested.
The intern hands JJ a manila folder packed to the brim with contracts for SportsMax's newest clients to sign, something that JJ Kline seems absolutely thrilled with receiving as he looks up from his phone.
JJ: Ah, yes, thank you, Ryan! Say, would you actually be able to run these expense reports over to accounting? I'd do it myself, but I'm waiting to meet with Sydney Irvine about some stuff.
Ryan: Sure thing, Mr. Kline!
Ryan scurries off with the papers, leaving JJ free to notice Syndicate standing in the entryway.
JJ: Hey, hey, there's my favorite Outlaw!
He bounds over and the two shake hands, although JJ seems to be significantly more enthusiastic about the gesture than Syndicate.
JJ: I was kinda worried you weren't gonna show up - it's almost the end of the week!
Syndicate: Come on, JJ, you know me, I'd never miss a meeting...especially with someone that I'm paying as much as you...
The Los Angeles Outlaw said that last part under his breath, but not quiet enough for the ever-perceptive JJ Kline to miss it.
JJ: Hey, I'm only asking for what I'm worth, and as the best agent in the business, I'm worth a hell of a lot. Now, come on, let's go talk in my office.
JJ smiles at his client and starts walking across the bustling sports agency, motioning for Syndicate to follow. He reaches the rail-less stairs that lead to the second floor and turns around, expecting to find the Los Angeles Outlaw right behind him. Instead, however, we see Syndicate standing in front of a black coffee machine situated against the wall at the snack bar, casually pouring himself a cup of joe. Chuckling, JJ puts his hands in his pockets and yells over at his friend.
JJ: Alright, let's go, Syd. The coffee doesn't pay for itself!
Syndicate: You were stupid enough to put "free coffee" in my contract, and I'm damn well gonna take advantage of that oversight.
In what has become a rare uplifting moment in the life of the Los Angeles Outlaw, Syndicate laughs with JJ and joins him up the stairs.
We cut to SportsMax's second floor, finding it to be in stark contrast to the open office located one floor below. Here, various closed offices line the crimson walls, with a few open tables and chairs situated in the center of it all. JJ Kline leads Syndicate past these tables, where a few employees can be seen drawing on a small whiteboard stand, figuring out the best way to get one of their clients more exposure. The duo reaches JJ's office in the corner of the building, a moderately-sized affair with floor-to-ceiling windows making up two of the four walls. On the two walls that actually exist, we see a TV tuned to ESPN's SportsCenter hung up next to a portrait of George Washington, a feature that Syndicate immediately does a double take upon noticing.
Syndicate: That's new.
JJ: Oh, George? Yeah, I had that installed last week.
Syndicate: Okay, but, like...why?
JJ: Well, George is one of the greatest leaders in modern history. He somehow convinced thousands of colonists, most of which had no business being in an army in the first place, to run full-tilt towards the legendary British battalion...and not only did he survive, but he WON the war! I see myself in a similar - albeit, much less risky - position, convincing athletes like yourself to ride along with myself and SportsMax while we bring you to the table of prosperity, benefitting all of us equally and ushering in a new era of fortune and happiness for all!
JJ extends his arms outward, apparently looking for some sort of applause, but Syndicate just smirks and shakes his head at him.
JJ: What, nothing? I've been practicing that!
Syndicate: Clearly.
JJ steps behind his brown wooden desk and sits in his leather chair as Syndicate takes a seat of his own across from his agent.
JJ: Alright, Syd, let's talk turkey. You've got a main event match coming up this week - you ready?
Syndicate: Depends. Are you asking if I'm ready to crack their skulls with a chair and make them eat barbed wire for breakfast? Because, if so, the answer is most definitely 'yes'.
JJ: Come on, let's drop the shit. I need to know if you're ready to WIN.
Syndicate seems taken aback by this sudden change of tone. He looks over at JJ with an incredulous look on his face, as if he expects his agent to be joking around, but one glance over at JJ reveals that this isn't just a ruse.
Syndicate: What?
JJ: You said it yourself at Fallout. We're at work, Syd. You're not my friend here, so let's just be serious about things.
The Los Angeles Outlaw, recognizing that his own words are currently being used against him, leans back in his chair and brushes back his shoulder-length blonde hair.
Syndicate: Fair enough. Of course I'm ready to win. Would I really be the Los Angeles Outlaw if I wasn't?
JJ: See, that right there is the problem. You SAY that you're ready to win, but you've said that these past three shows, and you've lost each and every one of them. Sure, you've put together some great performances, and you've got people paying very close attention to you and your career. You've created no shortage of controversy in Project: Honor, that's for sure. But none of that means shit if you constantly get second place.
Syndicate: Now wait a minute, you've seen how I've been treated by the company - last week, I wasn't even able to attack anyone without being disqualified! How the hell is that fair?!?
JJ: Funny...before that match, you were saying that you didn't NEED to attack Elena to win the match, but yet, here we are...
Syndicate: Oh, come on, how could I have expected my team to be so fuckin' incompetent -
JJ: Listen, Sydney. You wanna keep making excuses for not winning matches, that's fine. Do whatever you want. But at the end of the day, I keep looking at the Fallout results and seeing names in the winners' column that aren't yours. Now, normally, that would be more of a "you" problem, but your contract with SportsMax states that in exchange for our services, we receive a percentage of your salary and match bonuses, both of which are heavily dependent on your job performance. So, for us to make money, you need to make money, meaning that you need to start winnin' some fucking matches!
JJ, having finally reached the conclusion of his outburst at Syndicate, reaches under his desk and grabs a bottle of water. He unscrews the cap and takes a gulp before turning back to a somewhat-stunned Syndicate, who is - for once in his life - at a loss for words.
JJ: Look...obviously, I want to see you succeed. Outside of all this, I love you like a brother, Syd, and I agree that a wrestling megastar like yourself deserves better treatment from your employer. But there's been...talk...around the agency about if our deal is going to end up panning out well for both sides.
Syndicate: "Talk"? JJ, I've only been signed with y'all for a few weeks!
JJ: I think it's ridiculous too, but some of my colleagues are starting to wonder if you're really..."worth the hassle". Their words, not mine. So, now it's my job to help you figure this shit out. Night of Honor is a few weeks away, and we need to make sure that you're still employed by then, let alone on the card. Let's make this work, alright?
JJ Kline extends his arms outward, silently asking for a response of agreement from his client. Syndicate, meanwhile, scratches his chin with his right hand - he seems like he wants to disagree, but also knows deep down that JJ is completely right. Syndicate certainly hasn't lived up to his own expectations since joining Project: Honor...and he'll do absolutely anything to change that.
Syndicate: ...fine. What do you have in mind?
JJ: Well, let's discuss your match this week. Three other guys, elimination-style. Nothing on the line other than win-loss records and pride. Now, obviously, Havoc, Julius Fairweather, and Mason Destruction don't hold a candle to your wrestling ability, but together? I mean, you ARE on the record as stating you hate multi-man matches. So, rather than doing what you normally do and just dismiss each of them out of hand, let's actually figure out what you're up against.
JJ Kline reaches into his pocket and pulls out an iPhone 12 Max smartphone. After tapping it a few times, he gestures over to the television as it changes from Scott Van Pelt to an image of Mason Destruction, holding up the Ascension Championship after his victory at Fallout VIII, a show that also featured Syndicate come out victorious for the first - and thus far, only - time in Project: Honor.
JJ: Mason Destruction. Former Ascension Champion, and someone that damn near took your head off with a chair-assisted Destructo Kick a few weeks back. Fell short at GGG in retaining that title, but hey, he had just as good of a showing as you last week in his own Dead by Daylight trial. What's your plan to deal with him?
Syndicate: Simple: I'll just use his "hunger for Destruction" against him. Look how our paths have branched since first coming face-to-face weeks ago: Mason found himself stuck in place in the Ascension division, facing people that - let's be real - didn't measure up to his talent in that ring. It's taken him weeks, and just now, we see Mason reaching the top of the card. Good for him! Too bad I've been here the entire time, because for as much as Mr. DeMarco has screwed me over, he can at least recognize the stardom that I provide to his brand. He, and everyone else, KNOWS that I deserve to be here in the main event, week after week, and while I admire Mason for fighting his way up to my level, I'm afraid to say that this is where the fairy tale ends. Because this isn't the backyard scene, where as long as you keep jumping through tables and breaking bone after bone in your body, you'll have a place at the table. No, here in PROFESSIONAL wrestling, you've gotta earn your spot, and there's only enough room in the spotlight for one of us. Yeah, Mason's tough, and yeah, Mason's got a family, a kid of his own, to fight for. That's cute...real cute. I just don't give a shit. Mason may go out there with fire in his heart, looking to make a statement, but one slip-up, one moment of hesitation from an inexperienced man that's way out of his league...and he's gonna fall right into the clutches of the Los Angeles Outlaw. You saw what happened at Dead by Daylight - I was the only sane person in that match, and my intelligence was almost enough to escape that trial unscathed. Just think, JJ...what's gonna happen when I have the ability to fight back. Mason may be a "bust your ass" kinda guy, but no one has busted their ass in this business more than me, and I'm not gonna let some two-bit big guy have his way over a multi-time World Champion across this industry. Like I said, the story of Mason Destruction is an inspirational one, sure...but he's about to run into someone that's gonna knock his fuckin' lights out before he can even get to the second page of that story.
JJ: Good, good, that's the spirit! You've gotta get that guy charging at you and take him down during his rage. Love it! Next up...
JJ Kline taps on his iPhone again, this time turning the TV to a shot of Julius Fairweather, right after he escaped the third trial of Fallout X: Dead by Daylight.
JJ: Julius Fairweather. This guy is...quite the character. Certainly believes in himself, and that confidence earned him a trial win on the last episode of Fallout.
Syndicate: A win that - and I can't state this enough - came as a result of a double champion getting fuckin' stabbed to death on national television. Listen, obviously, I wish my trial would have gone differently. My plan was to sneak past Elena while she was busy dealing with my stupid-ass teammates, but it was clear that I somehow OVERESTIMATED their intelligence. But hey, at least I didn't need the benefit of a MURDER to even have a chance at escaping. Now, I heard what Julius had to say about me during his little "F Word" show this past week. Fine speech. It's clear he knows that he's about to come into contact with one of - if not THE - top talent in this industry. But that right there is the problem. Julius has a bit of a temper, right? Has a history of losing his goddamn mind and getting kicked out of places? Couldn't stick it in amateur wrestling and MMA because he couldn't get out of his own way?
JJ: Right.
Syndicate: Right, and that there's his biggest issue. I'm sure I'm not treading any new ground here, but with a man that gets pissed off at even the slightest wayward glance, do you really think he stands a chance against someone that ALWAYS stays cool, calm, and collected under pressure? Someone that's ready to weaponize that anger and take advantage of it? Doubtful. Julius can be as "furious" as he wants to be, and I'm sure come Fallout, he'll love nothing more than to knock me the hell out in front of the entire world. But just like Mason Destruction before him, he's going to quickly find himself blinded by that rage, to the point where it'll cost him everything in the end. So if Julius wants to win against me, the Los Angeles Outlaw, in the main event of Fallout...he's gonna need to get in contact with Redd, because it's gonna take another fuckin' murder to keep me down. And once it's all said and done, Julius may as well take his "Fab Four" and turn it into the "Fab One", because after I'm done putting his ass into the ground, I'll be the only one left that's worth putting on the list.
JJ: That's the attitude you need to have! Knock him down when he's blinded by his own issues - same as Mason. Finally, we have...
The acclaimed SportsMax agent taps his phone one more time, revealing the profile of Havoc, kneeling in the center of the ring at Guts, Gold, and Glory with his arms raised in victory.
JJ: Havoc, formerly known as Christopher Sabertooth.
Syndicate: This asshole...
JJ: Exactly. Took a combination of both himself and Pyro to take you out of the Zookeeper match at GGG, but regardless, he won that match and you didn't.
Syndicate: Yeah, whatever. He can take the Noble title from the actual corpse that is Jason Long, for all I care, because the Prime and Legacy titles are all I really want right now. Havoc seems to think that I don't belong here, that I'm just a "hapless animal", in his words. I'm sure he'll see my current record here in Project: Honor and find himself coming to the same conclusion this time around, as well. But what Havoc doesn't understand, JJ, is just how far I'm willing to go to win. He calls me "domesticated" and "pathetic", but if I truly was either of those things, I would have split from this place at the first chance of trouble. But nah, I'm still here, and I'm gonna keep fighting, day in and day out, until I fuckin' die in that ring just like Jason Long did. And before long, Havoc WILL respect me, not because he wants to, but because he has to. Because even though Havoc is a crazy son of a bitch that makes me seriously question Project: Honor's background check practices, he's still beholden to the same rules of reality as I. That means that however far he wants to go, he's still limited by the same body and psyche as the soul of the failure that is Christopher Sabertooth. Havoc may turn to the more destructive parts of his mind to get what he wants, but at the end of it all, he's still Chris...and Chris has got some shit to learn before he's able to reach his full potential in this business. I've been down that road before, JJ. You know that.
JJ: Took you months of counseling and stepping away from the business to get rid of the "Wrestling God" persona.
Syndicate: Exactly. I entirely understand Christopher's predicament because I experienced the same situation myself just one year ago. And the fun part, JJ, is that unless Havoc keeps finding success, unless he keeps climbing up ladder after ladder, he's going to eventually reach the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go, and then? Havoc's only going to sink his roots in further. Is that what he wants? Is succeeding in this business so important to him that he's willing to sacrifice your own inner being to get there? Because, sooner or later, even if he reaches the tip top of Project: Honor, it's not gonna be enough. It'll never be enough. I've learned how to deal with that pressure of ALWAYS being the best, of ALWAYS being the greatest professional wrestler on planet Earth. Has Havoc? I say no. And so if he wants to call me weak, if he wants to compare me to a puppy dog that just got brought into a new family, that's fine. But it's gonna hurt him real bad once he realizes that the little puppy is fuckin' rabid. And once I'm done with him, I'll make sure that he goes to a REAL hospital where he can get REAL help, so that he can finally come face-to-face with the realization that he will NEVER reach the level that's currently and forever occupied by the Los...Angeles...Outlaw.
Silence, as Syndicate finishes his tirade. As the sounds of cars honking in the Los Angeles traffic come streaming in from outside, JJ smiles at his client, stands, and begins to slowly clap his hands.
CLAP...CLAP...CLAP...
JJ: That's it! THAT'S the fire I'm looking for! You're seeing right through these guys, right into their souls, and you know that you can beat them. That's the attitude and drive that you ALWAYS have to have if you want to make your way back up the wrestling ladder. Now, what say we give Sophie a call and grab a celebratory dinner tonight?
Syndicate: That won't be necessary.
The smile starts to fade from JJ's face as he looks over at Syndicate, who has since stood up from his chair.
JJ: Oh, uh...you guys have plans?
This gets a soft chuckle out of the Los Angeles Outlaw as he sticks his hands in his pockets.
Syndicate: I only go out to dinner with friends, JJ, but right now? "We're at work." And until I come out of Osaka with my hand raised in absolute triumph over the sad saps that are being placed across from me, we're gonna keep finding ourselves "at work". And afterwards? Well, I suppose we'll find out if I'm really..."worth the hassle." Welcome...to the Syndicate.
JJ: Hey, that catchphrase is meant for your opponents, not your agent!
Syndicate: Ah, shut up. See you on the plane to Japan.
Syndicate coldly smirks at JJ from across the desk, turns, and walks back through the office's door, leaving behind the SportsMax agent in silence. JJ Kline sits back down in his leather chair and turns to look through the window, watching the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles move beneath him as the shot is eaten up by black-and-white television static.
