We cut to an area in the back where GM Jeffrey Campbell, clad in a purple dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves and his signature curve-rimmed hat, is standing by a large monitor. Next to him is Fight Pit Producer, Palesa Jeyi, with her big afro and brightly-coloured pantsuit. The crowd pops loudly when they see him.
Jeyi: Hectic...
Campbell: Yeah, that's Tình Nhân, fair dinkum. If she were still in her prime, Nalah would've nabbed her. We're bloody lucky, eh?
Jeyi: Tell that to Hendrix.
Campbell (shrugs): Wrong place, wrong time. He'll be right. (looks at her, while pointing at the monitor) And speakin' of, who in the blue hell gave the thumbs up to that absolute shocker of a tune they rocked up to?
Jeyi (shakes her head while holding up her hands): That was NOT the song they submitted. I don't know what that was.
Campbell: Yeah, well, ya better get onto fixin' it, pronto, before Sanka kicks me off the telly or the U.N. slaps us with sanctions for terrorism.
Jeyi: Already on it, believe me. Anyway, what's the plan? Do you want to give the Wallaces a rematch?
Campbell: After what happened on Sunday? Nah. They're gonna have to work for it.
Jeyi: Is that your official statement?
Campbell winks.
Jeyi nods and walks away: Alright then, boss. I'll go get things ready for the Thunderweight match.
Campbell: Oi, tell Vités it's gotta be a ripper! He's our top bloke to get Thunder happenin' on Friday nights, yeah?
As Jeyi disappears from view, the near 2-meter frame of Sara Blood Jr comes into view. She gets little to no reaction. A couple of boos, actually.
Sara Jr: Hey, uh,... Mistuh Campbell...? Sorry, uh, Jeff...?
Campbell (turns his head a little): Hmm... (turns it all the way and jumps back, shrieking) Sara! You're... You're here...
Sara Jr: I've... been heah all night. I was... drafted heah...
Campbell: Right... (averts his gaze) you were...
Sara Jr (looks sad for a moment, but takes a deep breath): I din't know if I should've asked yuh earliuh, but is dere any chance dat I'll get tuh wrestle tonight?
Campbell's eyes go wide. He opens his mouth and raises his hand.
Sara Jr (cutting him off and. leaning forward desperately): I know my perfawhmance at de draft... wasn't great and I basically ended up heah, but... I've been trainin' really hard since den and if yuh would just give me a chance, I promise I won't disappointcha!
Campbell (sighs): Look, Sara...
Sara Jr (clasped hands): Please...?
There's a couple "aw"s.
Campbell (looks up at her): It's our first episode. I have to put our best foot forward. We've only go so much time, and I had to bench a lot of people... All of whom got drafted ahead of you.
Sara Jr: But-
Campbell: We've got a Thunderweight match next...
Sara Jr: I'm a Thundaweight.
Some fans laugh.
Campbell: ... we've got Zázrak on after that, and then we've got the Dominion Title rematch. I'm sorry, but it's just not happening.
Sara Jr drops her arms in defeat. She starts to turn away.
Campbell: However...
She spins back around.
Campbell: I gotta give it to ya for comin' up to me, though. Lot of blokes your age wouldn't give it a crack. Too worried 'bout stirrin' the possum and all that.
Sara Jr: What?
Campbell: Tell ya what, though? Next week in Jenever, you're on!
There are mild cheers. Mild boos.
Sara Jr (gasps): Really?
Campbell: We'll have to find you someone for you to chuck your skills at, but yeah, you have my word.
She suddenly grabs his hand and shakes it with such force that his hat comes off.
Sara Jr: Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Yuh not gonna regret it, I promise!
She lets go and runs off, bumping into a handsome, long-haired Yemeni man wearing glasses and reading a book, Sun Tzu's "The Art of War", knocking it out of his hands.
Sara Jr: Oops, sorry 'bout dat.
She continues to run off, and he picks up his book, staring at her with a raised eyebrow.
Campbell comes back into view, having picked up his hat: Hey! Try to take some notes tonight! See what might work for you!
Sara Jr (off-screen): WILL DO!
Campbell puts his hands on his hips and sighs.
Yemeni Man: Burden of power, hmm?
Campbell (turns around): Mudir. Sorry, mate, didn't spot you there. What was that you were sayin'?
Mudir (readjusting his glasses and reopening his book): Apologies. reading aloud.
Campbell (shrugging): Alright, then.
He looks into the camera and rotates his finger, signalling for the next match to start.
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