Jake Colton in: Shouting Report

The Colton Academy.

What started as a journeyman wrestler’s dream has since grown into an institution. Thanks to the success of his students–especially the ones who bear his surname–Jake Colton’s training facility experienced a boom of new students…and as a result, new money. Enough to replace some of the old machines, hire another trainer, and research the idea of a second location.

Who knows? If things kept up, maybe he could do something about the weird smell.

That wasn’t his concern today. While the future of the wrestling industry was being forged in the gym, he discussed assorted current events with his old friend, a talent scout named Frank Mazurskiewicz.

“He’s absolutely faking,” Frank said. “Probably all of it, but definitely his ‘wrestling career.’”

“You sound pretty sure,” Jake replied.

“Jake. He calls himself Rexton ‘The Master’ Bader. Every teenage boy in the world would have bought that t-shirt.”

“That…is a good point. Think I should tell Nate?”

“Eh. He’ll figure it out on his own, if he hasn’t already.”

“He’s definitely suspicious…but you know the boy. Always wants to see the best in people.”

“Managers aren’t people,” Frank snapped. “You even said so in your little book.”

“Heh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

Jake smirked at his old friend. The gray hair, the bent spine, the crutches…they made it easy to forget who Frank used to be.

The scout was happy to let people do exactly that.

“Now, about the Jeffries kid.” Frank opened up the weathered notebook in his lap and regarded the strange markings and indecipherable shorthand scratched onto the page. “You’ve done a great job with him; he’s really leaned into the technical side instead of just relying on his power. Very high ceiling, as long as he works on his endurance and keeps gaining experience.”

Jaked raised an eyebrow at his friend’s assessment. While most of the school’s Belmont entrants acquitted themselves well, only the second-generation Coltons made it as far as Night Three. A regular student reaching those heights would be an even bigger boon for the Academy. “How far do you see him going in the Belmont?” he asked.

SUDDENLY!

(The camera swings toward the door, which opens violently. Two beefy bois in meaty masks appear in the doorway.)

INTRUDER #1: ALL THE WAY…TO HELL!

INTRUDER #2: A HELL OF OUR MAKING!

(Yes, it’s these bozos again.)

(The Intruders try to squeeze through the doorway together. This does not work, and they are forced to Intrude in single file.)

(Suddenly-but not SUDDENLY!--they’re in the room. Jake Colton crouches over an unseen figure on the floor.)

Jake Colton: You all right?

INTRUDER #1: NO! HE IS ALL WRONG, LIKE EVERYONE WHO CROSSES OUR PATH!

INTRUDER #2: ESPECIALLY WHEN WE CROSS THEIR EYES!

INTRUDER #1: AND DOT THEIR TEETH!

INTRUDER #2: WITH FISTS!

INTRUDER #1: PRIME WILL FALL UNDER OUR COLLECTIVE MIGHT!

INTRUDER #2: THERE IS NO RESPITE! NO ESCAPE! NO SAFE HAVEN FROM…

INTRUDER #1: THE INTRUDERS! AAAAAAAAAAAHH!

INTRUDER #2: AAAAAAAAAAAHH!

(Still screaming, the Intruders barge their way out of the office, slamming the door behind them.)

[Cut.]

“That’s the electrical closet, you dipshits!” Jake yelled, before turning his attention back to his fallen friend. “You ain’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, his voice heavy with irritation. “As long as they didn’t get me on video. Where’d the camera man go?”

“I think he followed them into the closet.”

“Don’t let him out until we get a chance to edit the footage. Where did you find those idiots, anyway?”

Jake shook his head. “Never seen ‘em before in my life.”