Ready.

[Graham Gosch]

It seems too simple. 

Just him and Nora. 

Paired together because the world wants to see it? 

OR paired together because the factory wants to make an example? 

They said it would be barbarric here.  

Word traveled fast that the rules were going to be thrown out the window. 

And yet, here Graham is.  

Determined by his stubborn nature or necessity to protect? 

Either source could prove to be beneficial for himself and his ...partner 

But there’s an overall theme to the first night. 

Burn your impression into the minds of the masses and they shall not forget you. 

Never forget who the top guy is. 

Never forget what the top guy does. 

And most importantly, never forget #GoschStyle.


 

SCENE|RAWGRAPSOFFICE 

The office of Graham Gosch, like the rest of his life, was modest. Three, sound proof, glass walls he put in the corner of RAW Graps Gym by himself when he first opened it. His desk sat up against the only opaque surrounding barrier which allowed him to see a large portion of the gym if he just glanced up from his desk.  

If only…. 

The gym is his escape. Whether it be the invasive clanging of the metal weights against one another that could bring a wince to the untrained ear; or simply lost in grappling with some of his best teammates. The point is his head never clouded when he was between those walls, until now.  

Now Graham stares down at the email on his phone and scrolls through it. It’s from Nora, an itinerary for New Jersey complete with the travel plans. It’s not so much the travel, although he does hate planes, as much as it is what’s on the other end of it. He’s gone his entire life protecting those close to him and now he has no choice but to watch another human being try to hurt Nora. A fate they both signed up for. 

When they first met she left out that she used to be a professional wrestler, something tells him she’s leaving out more than that. As they moved in together and became training partners and eventually significant others she shared minor details of her past experiences. Both the successes and the failures; but most importantly her injury. Unbeknownst to her, he already knew about her injury. His primal instinct noticed it when they would train together, but he never targeted it. A sympathetic gesture his opponents in New Jersey will not be privy to.  

As he mindlessly drags his thumb up and down the screen of his phone scrolling around the itinerary he’s soon lost in the strategic breakdown of just how he will approach his opponents in effort to make sure she remains safe. Thaddeus, his ring name Gosch refuses to repeat in fear of suddenly finding himself in a box with a fox being offered green eggs and ham, has a documented hip injury. An easy target for a downward elbow or well placed forearm. Crosby, a scatter brained daredevil, clearly smaller than Graham in stature and easily overpowered if he is proactive instead of reactive to his stunts. It’s not so much the details of his opponents that have him worried. It’s their opportunity to see what he sees when he trains with Nora and approaching her with the ferocity he has often left dwell. 

The feint sound of two soft knocks on his door break his concentration from the screen and as he puts his phone down and glances towards the door he sees the comforting smile of Nora that puts his nerves at rest for the time being. As he waves her in she looks down at his desk to see the plan she had put together on the screen of his phone.

"Everything look good? I got you an aisle seat so you don't have to stare out the window", a playful smile grows on her face.

Graham nods with a loud exhale, "Always thinking of me, it's appreciated. I'll be ready to train soon. Just have to make sure the place is ready to be put in autopilot while we're gone."

"The guys will take good care of this place, Graham. They always do. I'll see you in the ring" she turns back towards the door to make her exit but suddenly stops as if she's forgotten a small detail, "Should we gather up all the steel chairs and practice swinging them at one another?"

It's supposed to be a joke, but in that moment Graham is once again reminded of the brutality that he followed her into. Her playful expression disappears as she sees the worry in his eyes for a brief moment before it's broken by a returned smile.

He shakes his head as he stands up from his desk, "I was thinking we could gather up whoever is in the gym and have them throw dumbells at us... if you can dodge a dumbell you can dodge a dumb ass"

Graham doesn't need her worried about him, that's his job. As they both laugh at the obvious hyperbole before Nora exits his office he's reminded again why he wouldn't rather have anyone else in the world have his back. She's just as protective as he is. 


SCENE|RAWGRAPSRING

Clearly out of breath and near exhaustion, Graham and Nora share a smile of admiration with one another as they sit in the middle of the ring face to face. Another training session completed and another step closer to their debut inside The Factory. The nerves he once had infiltrate his brain and churn is stomach are momentarily at ease. You could argue it's just her presence that has put him at calm, but to him it's the assurance of her ability and more importantly her capability. He knows she's capable of protecting herself, but that won't stop him from trying to put their tag team encounter solely on his back to carry. She leans forward and places a kiss on his forehead before rolling underneath the bottom rope and exiting towards the locker room. Graham would be a fool not to watch her leave, any man would. Even if she quickly glances behind her and notices him staring as he walks through the doors. 

Graham rocks backwards and kips up to his feet as the sound of his feet planting into the canvas of the ring echo off the walls artistically laced with graffiti. The sweat drips down his brow and falls to the mat at his feet as a smile grows on his face unlike the one previously worn as he locked eyes with Nora. This one is fueled by malicious intent. 

"You can prepare for the worst in situations like this. Being thrown over the top rope and to the outside, left with nothing more than your unfamiliar surroundings to defend you. You've both got histories that tell me exactly what your method of operation will be going into this match. Take chances and hope for the best", he rubs his hands through his beard shaking his head. His words echo as loud as the his feet from the kip up did, "Zero fucking skill between the two of you. Just two retards trying to hump a door knob hoping that it opens. Weekend warriors who fancy themselves a couple of pro wrestlers, and why? Because you put tights on and picked out come music? Congratu-fucking-lations so do ballet dancers. Unlike you, at least they have a plan of attack"

Graham raises his arms out to his side as he slowly rotates in place, "Boys, this is my fucking kingdom. You can bring your flopping from the top or piss poor weekend seminar wrestling moves into The Factory, but be honest with everyone. You're going to rely on your ability to be scumbags in order to try and steal this victory from Nora and I. Two glorified stunt men with long hair and a collective IQ no higher than your girlfiend's bra size."

"You see", Graham finally makes eye contact with the camera as the intensity from his eyes penetrates the lens, "You leave too much up to chance, and for what? A couple of claps and chants from mongoloids who pay money to plant their fat asses in seats and watch REAL athletes? Your willingness to placate to fans and unwavering ability to find a mistake to make before Nora and I happen to break a sweat will be your downfall. So I welcome the outward effort to try and talk down to talent with actual ability in hopes that you can shut off that little voice in the back of your head that keeps reminding you of your injuries. It warns you that when you step into that ring it won't matter if you bring a steel chair or a god damn tank. We have the ability to think steps ahead and play the mind games necessary to make your back yard cult amateur hour death match bullshit obsolete.", breaking his dead pan stare into the camera Graham exits the ring and walks over towards a folding chair where his bag lays. 

Picking it up an compacting it so that it's efficiently able to be used as a weapon he scoffs at the thought, "This is your plan? This and what? Leaving your feet to climb the top rope. Disengaging your opponent in hopes that someone catches a cool picture for your social media? Mock Gosch Style through your ignorance but when you swing and miss with a weapon you're left vulnerable. Flip your hair and high five one another as you take risks to pump up the crowd; you're just wasting valuable time. And in that valuable time if you so happen to have the advantage you've given myself or Nora a split second more than we needed to plan out our rebuttal three steps ahead of anything the two of you could string together without counting on your fingers."

He throws the chair across the gym and at the wall as it clangs against the brick. Graham raises his hands towards the camera and stares into them as if he's holding a precious artifact, "These. These are all I need. The two hands god gifted me. The talents that were passed down from my great grandfather to me. These will be the accessory to the downfall of your short lived tenure in The Factory, a simple assist given to the true catalyst of your future failure. Your false sense of bravado given to you by the generation of self centered fame whores. Before you were given the opportunity to become a victim of myself and Nora you were already a victim of your own lifestyle."

"So if you boys want to swing your weapons and fly through the air?" Graham picks up his gym bag throwing it over his shoulder, "You better pray you don't miss. You better hope you don't crash. But the damndest thing about taking a risk in this industry is you aren't able to bounce back and learn from your mistakes. Your mistakes leave you on your back looking up into the lights....and in The Factory when those lights are the brightest it won't be to shine on either one of you as the stars."

Graham shakes his head, "That light is the fire from your crash that we'll warm out hands on before we rip you limb from limb and leave you hobbling back to your weekend warrior seminars and back yard wrestling matches.....that's if we let you walk out."

He makes his way towards the same doors Nora exited through not too long before, "See you boys soon. Do yourselves a favor and read up on the book I left behind.... something tells me you'll need it."

The camera pulls away from watching Graham exit the ringside training facility to show a large yellow book laying on the cement floor that simply reads "PRO WRESTLING FOR DUMMIES"