Showcase, Part Three
Two days ago, when I was told to prepare a separate showcase of my own, I gathered my colleagues right away.
"What a pain."
"Tell me about it. You should've just submitted training footage like the rest of us."
"I know… Nothing we can do about it. We'll have to polish up one of the old scenarios we worked out."
We'd been brainstorming all kinds of scenarios for a while. You might wonder what business a bunch of trainee wrestlers had writing scenarios, but that was entirely Alf and Selma's fault.
Acting school didn't cover pro wrestling situational drama, so I'd cooked up various setups and put the two of them through their paces.
Ask Selma to do anything sexy and she turned into a complete robot. Anger and outrage, though — those she could manage reasonably well.
Alf's acting development, on the other hand, was painfully slow. Now I finally understood why these two, for all their shining talent, had never broken out right away.
You can work with a wrestler whose skills are lacking. A wrestler who can't cut a promo is useless. Even under a mask you need to manage something — if he hadn't gone to the academy, I might have cast him as a mute masked character…
James, by contrast, was an incredible actor. It was almost strange he hadn't gone to Hollywood. Without me, he might have become a performer instead.
"Charina. Just let me job for you. Do it solo."
"No."
"Why not?"
"If we go up together, they'll package us as a class. Together! We survive together!"
Selma and Alf looked at me with something like emotion on their faces.
"Here's what I'm thinking. First, Alf and I wrestle."
"Why Alf?"
"Yeah. There's barely any difference between me and Alf."
Selma and James immediately jumped on that.
Alf doesn't react unless he sees my feet — but James, you're different. During practice with the cup on it wasn't obvious, but I'd caught him more than once in the weight room glancing at me and Selma while covering himself with a towel.
Even without that, I'd have given him a different role just to put his acting to use…
"Alf's acting is terrible. So we need to show him wrestling me — a spot that doesn't require any acting."
"Then what about me? My acting's not great either."
"Selma, you're pretty good at the angry stuff. And James has the best acting chops of any of us."
"What are you scheming?"
I laid out the scenario I'd cooked up.
"I can't do it. Just thinking about it makes me sick. Ugh — a brother complex where I like that bastard?"
"What? I'm the one who should be grossed out. This is worse than BL."
"What did you just say? Worse than BL? You looking to die? Hey! Get in the ring right now."
"You think that's gonna scare me?"
Ha! Damn it. These kids…
I was about to tear into them when James stepped in first.
"If you're gonna fight, there should be stakes. How about the loser goes to a different academy? Doesn't even come to TPA. A title like that should be on the line."
At James's words, the two of them — already heading for the ring — quietly drifted back to their spots.
Oh ho. James. What's gotten into this guy? Decent actor, and his head works too. This kid's a stealth smart character. Holmes confirmed.
"Just this once. This kind of acting."
"Same here!"
"Selma, you can just spit out how grossed out you are. And Alf — you're hitting Selma with a chair shot anyway. Work out your anger that way."
"Got it."
Once the basic skeleton was in place, fleshing it out was quick. And so we birthed this absolute dumpster fire of a scenario.
"James. That tearful performance was really something. Did you put eye-drop ointment on?"
"No, sir. I just thought of something sad."
"Oh ho. Impressive. That's a real talent."
"Thank you."
Harry Thompson, the head of talent development, started with James and worked through the prepared gimmicks, finishers, and the rest.
"Burning Boys, huh… Not bad. But you guys know, right?"
"Sir?"
"Know what?"
"That if you work as a tag team, you'll have to face the Dudley Boys or the Hardy Boys. And you might end up jobbing a lot."
"That's fine. It's an honor, actually."
"As long as we lose spectacularly, we're satisfied."
"Matches the gimmick. That fire. I like it a lot."
The coaching staff had praised the gimmick too. It worked as faces the kids would love, and it worked as heels. Instant approval.
"Selma. You've given up on lucha libre?"
"Yes. Technician with high-flyer elements seems like a better fit."
"With your signatures and finishers set up that way, you don't have much choice. But to match the gimmick, even your walk needs to be sexy. Like AG Lee back in the day."
"Yes. I'll study it."
Now it was my turn.
"Hmm. Atomic Drop. Samoan Drop. Stunner. Head Scissors Whip. Lion's Sault into Sitdown Powerbomb. Eclipse — Downfall. Shooting Star Press… Unbelievable."
"You can actually hit all of those?"
Harry and Jane said it like they couldn't believe it. Even after seeing it in a match. Had I made a mistake by including the failed powerbomb?
I looked at James and wiggled my fingers.
"Hey. Get up for a second."
"Why."
"They don't believe it. Gotta show them right here."
"Alf's right there."
"You're heavier."
"Where are you gonna throw me in this tiny room?"
There was only one place in the conference room you could throw someone.
"The table?"
"Hey! You crazy bitch!"
James shot up and hid behind Devon.
"Enough. Stop. You're not doing that here."
"If you'd like, I could lift Team Leader Thompson instead."
"Haha. That's enough. We'll take your word for it."
Then came questions about my type.
"What type are you going for?"
"Powerhouse and stuntman. Thinking showman as well."
"No."
"I also say no."
Harry and Jane shot it down immediately.
"Why? I can lift most female wrestlers just fine."
"You might be able to lift them. But with that build, what are the crowd and the viewers going to think when you hoist a hundred-kilo wrestler? Won't they think it's fake?"
"Reality is the most important thing right now. We can't have people questioning the realism. Even if you can lift them easily, you have to sell it like you're barely managing. If you can't act that, we have to overhaul your entire skill setup."
"What kind of nonsense is that? I can lift them, but I have to pretend I can't?!"
"Exactly. That creates more of a reality problem. Can modern CG even manipulate live broadcasts now? Technology's advanced without me noticing."
Bibi and Devon started arguing with the two of them.
"How about all-rounder, technician, showman? As an all-rounder, you can show some of that without it looking weird."
"I'm not really feeling that."
"Stubborn, aren't you."
"I don't like cutting powerhouse, and I don't like cutting stuntman either. If you're going to push that hard, I won't sign the contract."
We haven't even signed yet and they're already bossing me around — is that funny or what? Looking down on me because I'm young? Or because I'm Asian?
Jane Kim must have gone through the same thing. Why was she acting like this?
"Ugh. Why are you so eager to wreck your body? Got a masochistic streak?"
Tch. If I'd picked hardcore, I'd really be catching hell.
"Masochist? That concept could work. Letting out a sexy moan every time someone smacks your ass."
"Oh ho."
"Not bad. Sounds fun."
"It'd sell. Fits the look."
What? Trying to turn me into a pervert?
"Uh. I hate that even more."
"You stay quiet. This would definitely sell."
Even though I'd said no, Coach Amy immediately shut my mouth. Watching me with smug expressions were the siblings and James.
Tch. Holding a grudge over the BL and brother-complex bit, huh.
"For now, let's test the type and gimmick in a dark match. Do whatever you want in your first dark match. We'll decide after that."
"I'm putting that clause in the contract."
"Suit yourself."
Last came the talk about contracts.
"I have zero intention of handing these kids over cheap. Same goes for their signing bonuses and salaries."
"Haa. This is driving me crazy."
"You sold Lorenzo cheap. Vanessa you didn't even take a finder's fee for."
"Those two compared to these kids… never mind."
Harry glanced at Taina once and shut his mouth. Contract amounts and salaries between wrestlers — better not to know each other's. So even though Taina Steels was with TPA, they'd talk later.
"Send today's showcase footage by email right away. I need to talk with the CEO and CMO."
"Alright."
"You can do the call-up immediately, right?"
"Give us one more week."
"Why?"
Bibi pointed at Alf and James.
"We agreed to do a few more practice matches between our Dudley Boys and the Burning Boys."
"When? Can I come watch?"
"No. It's closed."
Devon, who'd been watching quietly, cut it off cold.
"Fine. Last thing — show me Charina lifting four hundred fifty kilos and I'll go."
"Go ahead. Charina, go show them."
"Yes, sir."
I immediately took the TPA people to the weight room and showed them. How suspicious can you get — Harry tried to lift what I'd lifted to check the weight himself. Aside from the hundred-kilo bench press, he couldn't even lift properly.
Once they left, the Dudley Boys called us back into the conference room.
"You knew we take a finder's fee, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"We knew."
"Good. You've heard that Lorenzo went for dirt cheap. But you guys are different. For the finder's fee, the three of you will get a minimum of fifty thousand dollars, and we're planning a bit more for Charina."
Why are these people being so open? They didn't have to tell us…
"Wondering why we're telling you this?"
"……"
"Because we want you to know that TPA is going to have high expectations for you. And taking a finder's fee isn't illegal — if you wanted to find out later, you could roughly figure out the amount anyway. So until you sign the contract, be careful with injuries and put more into your promo practice. What is a promo?"
We opened our mouths in unison.
"The beginning and the end of wrestling."
"Good. In exchange, we'll negotiate your salaries as high as we can, so don't take it the wrong way."
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
The next day, we watched the Dudley Boys versus Burning Boys practice match with the other trainees. It wasn't run continuously like a real match — whenever a move failed, they stopped and repeated that move.
"What's the flower of a tag match?"
"The hot tag."
"Right. Whether you can nail the hot tag or not is what separates the quality of a tag team."
A hot tag meant making the tag — the wrestler switch — tense and nail-bitingly close. Catching that split-second timing when the watching audience desperately wants the tag to succeed.
We spent over thirty minutes just on hot-tag timing before the practice match wrapped up.
"Ugh. I'm dead."
"Ha. This is brutal."
Devon and Bibi were completely wiped after nearly two hours of practice.
"Thank you, Coach."
"Thank you."
James and Alf bowed their heads in gratitude. I kicked them both in the ass.
"Ow, why?"
"Why'd you kick us? Use your words."
"Hey. Don't just say thank you — go massage their shoulders at least."
"Huh?"
"Go pretend to give them a massage."
"Oh."
"Yeah. On it."
They scrambled after the Dudley Boys.
"Charina. Think we should try a tag team someday too?"
"Us? Maybe for a one-off event, but not as a regular thing."
Selma looked puzzled at that.
"Why? Our chemistry's good."
"Even if dedicated tag teams are fine, thrown-together ones always end up with a betrayal storyline. We're from the same academy and we're actual friends. When we split, the scenario would have us fighting viciously. Probably over a guy — or Alf could get involved."
"Ah. Yeah, that makes sense. Better not to do it at all. Ugh. Getting mixed up with Alf? Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying."
"Right?"
Jane Kim from the scenario team had watched the showcase we'd put together. She might try to use this scenario at least once.
And if the booking called for us to split into face and heel and fight, I'd wrestle Selma — but I didn't want to do a tag team that ends in betrayal and backstabbing with Selma, the first real friend I'd made in this world.