"S.C.R.E.W.E.D- SCREWED!"



Scene Number::001
Scene Location ::The Back Of A Limo
Status :: ON Camera

Fans groaned, thinking it was another God damned Jersey Shore rerun. Already the constant changing faces, a real parade of idiots, and that annoying club music was provoking many a wrestling fan to reach for their TV remotes. That was the kind of conditioning that the society had undergone since the brain rotting bacteria known as 'Jersey Shore' and the whole Jersey culture in general was unleashed on the American population. It might as well have been like the MRSA virus or Ebola- people tended to run from it and avoid most people from Jersey like they had the plague. And for all the rest of the country knew, that had that too. Wanting to know what the virus Jersey was, was like getting an STD test with a prostitute. The results would make you sick to your stomach. And if at all possible it was best to avoid contact with it all together. Make of that whatever you will.

Just as fans prepared to change the channel, the screen began to fuzz and flicker. Some fans instantly assumed that their satellite was cutting out and had gotten up to adjust the plugs and cords. Others seemed to know there was no problem because they hadn't gotten the 'blue screen of death' and the rest of their devices were unaffected. This was just old school 'television snow', a static that crackled and popped and it spread like a rash- taking over the entire screen with a black background and dancing white dots. To the fans who were honest with themselves, this was far better than the annoying video that had been on before. They would rather a static blizzard on their screen than suffer through that crap again.

If the snow wasn't odd enough, suddenly like something out of the 1990's a voice comes over there flat screens- calm and emotionless in a sort of robotic way as it says "The Following Announcement Has Been Paid For By The Bullet Club". Now THAT got the smart marks and a good chunk of the WWE Universe's attention. Fans, love them or hate them, can't bring themselves to ignore The Bullet Club. These guys rolled back into the WWE and from the first night when Kenny Omega won a European Title qualification Battle Royal, making him "Mr. Summer Slam" in his own eyes. But from then, to last week when the these guys assisted Omega in dealing with two undeserving Champions and one lucky curtain jerker- to now, this very moment; The Bullet Club has been on a role. And even if you couldn't stand a single one of them... there was no denying that this trio had returned to the World Wrestling Entertainment company with a vengeance. People were starting to take notice. More and more the WWE was starting to either accept or reject this little invasion.

Eyes tuned in as the montoge pegan, like some poor Jersey Shore insrt with terrible background club music. Fans were tempted to turn the chanel again, but they had remembered the voice promising that this had been paid for by The Bullet Club; so they forced themselves to endure. The camera gegan to pan video clips. First of what looked liked it could be an olf 'Surfs Up' shop. The windows were broken and the shop was locked and looked rusted; like this hadn't seen a customer in a few years. Another clip showed a whole street of ghetto looking hair and nail salons where people who were baked into a carror orange color baraded around in what they considered to be 'the fashions of the time'. These people came in several shapes; Gorilla, Pear, Orange Barbie Doll Whore or old hag playing bingo- where it was hard to tell where their stomach ended and their backside bagan. All of these people, however styled themselves like at any moment a disco ball might lower from the ceiling and jello shots may sudden get served. They were a people unto their own. They dressed so very much alike and yet like very angry ostrages fighting over who had the brighter feathers- they barked and clucked obnoxiously between one another. Sometimes grunting like apes or like two apes, pushing and shoving. Fighting over territory of the salon or gmy. And the smartest of the hurd knows where to find all three in one building.

A sigh of gratitude echoed through the WWE Universe as the image changed again, this time showing the legendary Jersey Boardwalk in all of it's splendor. Only... it was empty. Not a soul in sight, besides the occasional living piece of human refuge, ducking behind a corner no doubt to score some 'juice' or 'junk'. Besides that, it was a freaking ghost town. All the shops were closed, the steel shutters shut up real tight and only the sound of the occasional seagull squawking broke what would of otherwise been a creepy silence. Even the Carnival that always seemed to be in progress, the heart beat of the tourist attraction- even that felt like it was on life support. Just looking at it seemed to really bum people out.

Any fan who might be watching this; the down fall of what was once an American institution of tourism reduced to a run down amusement park- a bad joke... well, if you dared to feel so deeply, that moment went up in a 'Poof'; no literally. It sounded like hair spray, no wait- WAS THAT SPRAY PAINT!? HAD VANDALS GOTTEN ON THE LOOSE!? Oh yes they had... and it was way worse than spray paint. It was... you guessed it... SPRAY-... TANNER! An entire mushroom cloud of it! It now filled the screen and so did the sound of coughing, hacking and wheezing. Scaring off and seagulls that might have been hanging around. Some fans thought they could hear the sound of laughter underneath it all. But they couldn't be sure. As the cloud began to disperse, the WWE Universe got their first looks at the survivals of this act of chemical terrorism. Dressed in something straight out of 'Zoolander' or 'A Night At The Roxbury'- both Matt and Nick Jackson were doubled over, waving their hands to clear away the remained of the could and attempted to catch their breaths. Because of Adam Cole they had been turned a wonderful Cheeto Orange that was put on so imperfectly that they were still pale and blotchy in spots. Both of them had on grimaces and their eyes gleamed with hate as they tried to turn to the camera. That wasn't all they had on. Matt had on a poor Vanilla Ice wig and several gold chains. Nick had on a wig that made him blend in with the local Gorillas a bit more- but lets be honest, this hardly counted as camouflage. Any self respecting Jersey boy or gal, if one existed, could tell that these two just didn't belong.

MATT JACKSON;
"Wha-" Matt hacks a little taking a step back and squatting down to take in a few breaths. "What the hell was that for!?" he demanded, now rising to his full height, which wasn't much, and started towards Adam with hostility written all over his body language.

Adam took a few more steps back, stifling his chuckles now; clearing his throat before addressing them in his best director's voice.

ADAM COLE;
"The camera loves ya' baby, it's really does... not" Adam couldn't even lie to himself. His shoulders slumped and the camera sagged just momentarily.

It was enough time for Nick Jackson to rise up and find his voice now too. Taking his loyal place at the side of brother, Nick gestures around the whole area as though he couldn't find words to describe it.

NICK JACKSON;
"THIS!-AMEIGO! THIS RIGHT HERE! NOOOO COMPRENDO!" he says, shaking his head is disgust of this situation.

ADAM COLE;
"Bro relax- and they're Italian, not Mexican. Think more 'Johnny The Bull' and less Konnan" he mused, straightening up as he filmed the brothers.

He was trying his best to be a professional, but it was obvious The Young Bucks were over this scene already. They looked themselves over as though they had been gang raped by guidos. Nick shakes his head again while Matt just kept looking between his brother, himself, and their location with a slightly horrified expression.

NICK JACKSON;
"Same damn different at this point, alright! All I am sayin' is it sucks balls around here! Seriously! I feel disgusting. So damn greasy, it's like Razor Ramon tried to but me in a bear hug! Yuk! Remind me why we are here again, would you do that for me?" Nick asked the camera man in a frustrated.

ADAM COLE;
"This is Jersey, pimpin'- and Kenny 'O says the best way to get into the head of your enemy is to stomp around their territory. See how it paid off for him back in Brooklyn? Same principle. It's about knowing where they come from, and how they think. Use that for your inspiration. Now lets have it- show us some raw material" Adam says, now seeing to take this from a documentary into a nature film.

He focused a bit closer in on the Young Bucks- giving the viewers a slightly amateur and sloppy angle, but at least they stayed in the center of the screen and the viewing didn't shake all that much. These words seemed to trigger something in Matt Jackson, who up until this point had just looked like someone had dumped pigs blood on him at prom. But now that fire was back in his eyes and he now became just as sickened with this location as his brother was.

MATT JACKSON;
"Spare us, Cole! If you weren't behind that camera you would feel just as shitty too! God, how do these people live like this? It has to be because they are born into it- because any NORMAL person wouldn't try to imitate this crap. Get real. Ya' know, when I was told about this project I really tried to psyche myself up about it. I really did. I figured 'hey, Kenny went to Hell's Kitchen and walked out the number one contender to the European Title. So maybe there is something to it'... but, man- I don't mean to speak bad about my own friends. But Kenny might have been wrong. See, Kenny got to learn something from being in New York and getting his hands dirty. But in New Jersey? The only thing you can dig up, from the looks of it, is a fresh case of crabs and a couple of child support checks if you're easy" Matt says, turning his head and spitting on the ground. He wanted to make of point of just how little it meant to him.

Nick rolled his shoulders and now had a slight spring in his step- some of that hostility and tension bubbling to the surface that he was more than happy to take out on the camera.

NICK JACKSON;
"Speaking of Ms. Amore- we really should be there instead of wasting our time on the docks, making sure she had them tubes tied! We don't need any more of those big mouthed little meat balls running around, bringing down the property value of Smackdown! OR GOD FORBID- that he is off in some sleazy motel six right now and reproducing. We should be right at Momma Enzo's front door- instead of here on the boardwalk. It's common knowledge that she doesn't work here anymore!" Nick said, grinning arrogantly into the camera.

Matt slaps his brother in the chest without looking, having eyes only for the camera. He was grinning now too, maybe starting to warm up and brow accustom to his New Jersey skin. Or maybe it just felt nice get this chip off of his shoulder. It was hard to tell, but no matter- Matt Jackson commanded the attention of the viewers.

MATT JACKSON;
"Hey! Take-it-easy! When we signed up for this gig, we didn't do it to dig to the roots of Enzo and Big Cass's family tree. The fact they were planted in mud or horse crap- it doesn't really make a difference. The Omega Man wanted us to get a feel for where our opponents are coming from, and I think I've got it figured out. It wasn't like we had to hit the books all that hard to map out these two Einstein's! Word spread from NXT all the way to- well, to Smackdown that you two clowns were about as deep as a buddle and about half as entertaining. And trying to blame that on you boys being planted into cracked eggs would be short changing the situation. See, this goes beyond just being the product of your environments. Big Cass & Enzo, you boys are the evolutionary product of inbred FAILURE! Can you spell it out with me, because we already know that you can't spell soft. It's F.A.I.L.U.R.E- Failure! Try that word on now boys, because it is a term that you are gonna' have to get use to!" Matt was pulling no punches now, cracking his neck a little and picking up on that kind of electric energy he and his brother thrive on.

NICK JACKSON;
"You said it Matt, from NXT to Smackdown these guys have spanned the... well, the BRANDS with a lot of hype around their names. Sure, it isn't as good as say going to Japan and flying higher than anyone who hangs around the RISING SUN!- but it's something. In a small pond, you boys are a couple of big fish. And to some degree, we can relate. We USE TO be that way too, but they words to focus on gentlemen is 'use to'. We evolved, we got better, we straight stepped up our game! To a level where we feel comfortably prying this stale division right off of the brittle and broken shoulders of Edge, and make it our own! That is what The Young Bucks are about! That is what we can do, in fact, it's WHAT we do. In every single company, in every foreign land- when you come looking for excellence, you come looking for The Young Bucks! Our hype... our reputation, it spans continents in ways that you two gooks just can't wrap your soft cannoli heads around! You guys... you are just the newest bozos parading around the locker room You could call yourselves The New Day or The Rosebuds and no one would even know the difference! You are just a flash in the pan, a moment that is here one moment and then gone the next! But the second that they decided to sign you two tools up against us is the day you stopped being a couple of dancing monkeys and took your first step out of the cage and into a professional wrestling ring. And if you two would stop picking fleas off of each other- ya' might just learn something" Nick proclaimed proudly.

Matt felt the urge to chime in again.

MATT JACKSON;
"Be careful, we don't want to lose them too fast. Years of breathing this crap in and smothering themselves in all of this garbage has fried their brains. It's like trying to teach a Indian Deathlock to Eugene! These dudes need baby steps if we are going to take them from the lowliest of the low up to our level. Bada-Bing! Bada-Boom! Remember who you are talkin' to!" Matt says sarcastically, absentmindedly smearing some of the fake tan off the best he could.

MATT JACKSON;
"These chumps have the never to call themselves 'The Realest Guys'- so ya know what? How about The Young Bucks stop with the games and we get real!? Because take a look around here! Nothing good has ever come from Jersey! Not a God damn thing! Not The Jersey Shore- and that's counting that mutant who calls who self Snookie! Not her or her douche bag co-stars. No good music has come from Jersey, you all are constantly playing that club crap- IT ALL SOUNDS THE SAME! The Jersey women look like they have been having nightly Orgies with Chester F'N Cheeto! Working hard for that happy ending! Your people are loud and obnoxious, you juice heads are constantly looking to pick fights; not even the Jersey Devil or your hometown hero Silent Bob is worth an ounce of weed or an ounce of respect! Do you get it!? Jersey blows! IT BLOWS!" Matt shouts, leaning forward to drive his point home.

His chest rises and drops as he looks like he might smash the camera. Adam Cole chucked again and spoke more to himself.

ADAM COLE;
"Ooohhh man, this is just great. Be honest man, let the world know how you feel. Aint no one disagreeing with you" he said calm and rather arrogantly.

Nick Jackson took the attention of the camera again, The Young Bucks were on a roll. Even if Jersey wasn't that hospitable or what they thought it would be- these two professional wrestling pain in the butts were going to make the most of it. This was the first tag match worth watching on Smackdown since Christian let his brother down. Well... that was something that fans wouldn't have to worry about with The Young Bucks and The Bullet Club. It couldn't be more clear that they had one another's back as Nick Jackson spoke up again.

NICK JACKSON;
"For being the so called Realist Guys, we thought you two wouldn't need someone to tell you all of this. I mean, at least Big Cass has an I.Q above room temperature. Did you two jokes not do the math before getting into the industry? Or do one better, did either of you stop and look in the mirror before agreeing to this match? Because I don't think you did. See, when WE look into the mirror... we see the best of the tag team landscape personified. People come pare us to The Rockers... The Hardy Boyz... The New Age Outlaws; those teams that left controversial marks on the sport of wrestling! We will go down as the new generation of Tag Team Wrestling. But what do people see when they look at Enzo and Big Cass? They see the worst of Jersey manifested. They see a bad bleach job, hours wasted turning orange, and most importantly... they see two men who make them laugh. You tell all of these jokes, but it never occurred to you boys that you were the biggest jokes of all! You wanna' be real- you want some truths? Well swallow those truths! You guys are a joke! Just like Zack Ryder, or Zema Ion, or that Freak fellow and a couple other jobbers- they all tried to do 'The Jersey Thing' too and do you know where it got them? Jerking that curtain and getting fed to the old Cena monster. AND THAT WAS ON A GOOD DAY!- let that one sink in playa'" Nick says tauntingly.

NICK JACKSON;
"On a good day, they were fed to another talent. But there are a guys like you who have seen much worse. Some got the 'Future Endeavored' treatment and walked away with what little dignity they had intact. And the rest... you'll find them in the lobby after the show pushing merchandise and DVD's. That is the reality of this business- and guess what? YA CAN'T TEACH THAT!... but I'm sure gonna try and get you to learn anyways" Nick says without remorse.

Adam Cole was doing the best he could to keep up with the intensity of The Young Bucks, his camera skills not up to par with his wrestling skills. But he does his best for his pals, and Matt Jackson stepped up, now pulling the wig off and tossing it to the side. Nick follows suit, seeing that the joke was over. Both Young Bucks moved in for the proverbial kill shot. Wigs gone and nothing but a ruthless aggression and a clear appetite to prove themselves. No matter at whose price. Matt spoke with no mockery in his voice, like he meant every word that he said.

MATT JACKSON;
"This week, you will see a level of athleticism like you have never been lucky enough to be a part of before. You will be at ground zero! Blinding like Icarus because wrestling the Young Bucks is like flying too close to the sun! Our moves can not be matched- and our style can not be imitated. Unlike the cookie cutter talents who have tried doing the same song as dance as you fine folks- WE know that our stuff simply can’t be duplicated. These are levels that the WWE have not reached in decades! You want to say what people can't teach, how about you start practicing waking up out of your comas! Cuz' right now, all of this... We're just having a little fun. We're doing like everyone else does, and we're just LAUGHING AT YOU! But no one is going to be laughing when that bell rings and they all get to see first hand the kind of hurting that we are gonna' put on you two towel boys! There is a reason we call our finish 'More Bang For Your Buck' because we give the fans the kind of pay off that chumps like you could only promise! When we get into the ring... we fuckin hurt people. So go on, keep telling yourselves that the Young Bucks are 'S.A.W.F.T- SAAAWWWWFFFT!'. You keep telling yourselves and all these people that! Because we only for two words for you..." Matt snarls at the camera. .

MATT JACKSON;
"S.U.C.K I.T- SUCK IT!... Because like all tag teams that step to us... you're gonna' end up choking!" Matt says with a cruel grin.

Matt and Nick take a step back and both throw a dueling set of 'Superkicks' into the direction of the camera and following it a few crotch chops for good measure. The Young Bucks had, had enough of being stuck in the ass crack known as Jersey and they both stormed off out of camera view. Leaving a laughing Adam Cole to fumble with the camera momentarily, giving the views a shot of the New Jersey sky.

ADAM COLE;
"Ha ha ha, guess that's a rap then... looking good fellas, lets get this on air" Cole says as though his direction helped with this finished masterpiece.

But before fans could question it too much, the camera cuts to black again. That calm and robotic returns, letting the viewers know that "The Preceding Announcements Had Been Paid For By The Bullet Club" before cutting to complete darkness. Setting a tone for the tag match to come.





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