Traveling is an act that most of us will go through at one time or another during our lives. Be it a small travel from point A to point B, a social visit or a business-trip, or be it a long-winded journey across this enormous planet we call �the globe.� Some journeys will go off without a hitch, others will be problem-riddled catastrophes. We will never be able to know which will be which until our journey is over. Either way, we journey for a multitude of reasons. To see those we miss, cherish or love, or to meet a person we�ve never before met. To seek something lost to many men. To find fame and fortune in lands that my sow us more opportunity. Or simply because we were in the right, or wrong, place, at the right, or wrong, time. Static flashes across our television screens, worldwide, the piercing noise that comes with the black and white mesh blaring through loudspeakers in discordant accompaniment. The crackling lasts more than a moment, and no doubt this will send impatient viewers to the television sets to adjust. This adjusting will, however, do no good. Headstrong Wrestling television suddenly cuts to what appears to be your typical news broadcast. A woman, smartly dressed as is the only possible way she might be, looks on blankly into the camera. Dark hair is neatly folded down her shoulders, combed through at least one too many times. There are pieces of A4 paper in her hand, blank on the side that our camera view shows, and she shuffles them, almost impatiently. Only now does this woman realize she is on the air, and only now does she begin the monotonous tone of a newsreader, barely digesting the words that she speaks but speaking them aloud for millions of others to digest instead. News-reader: �Earlier this week, a contracted professional-wrestler of the Headstrong Wrestling corporate entertainment broadcasting was stopped in Washington, D.C, by the capital�s police. The man, known only to officials and the Headstrong Wrestling audience as The Jackrabbit, had seemingly gained entrance to the White House residence of U.S President George W. Bush. The wrestling entertainer was cautioned by police officials for what-is-being-described-as �unintended break-and-entering�, �inadvertent verbal sexual perversion and abuse,� �misconduct in both a public and political environment� and �attempted assassination.� HSW spokespersons are currently in negotiations over the matter with government executives, but senior administration Jesse Banks and Ichabod were unavailable for comment.� The camera crackles again, the news report dissolving into a flurry of black and white scrawls. Barely audible, behind the crackling of static, is a noise; to the trained ear, a rustling of leaves. This is following by the breaking of a branch or two, and a slight giggling, almost school-boy-ish in nature. Across the static now, an unorthodox placement of words appears, the boldly-placed text reading �EARLIER THIS WEEK� in stark capitals. The static gives way, finally, to the source of our previous audio; a tree, your typical tree, with bushy green leaves and branches as the skeleton to this foliage. Suddenly, an unexpected noise is heard above the hum of distant social activity and the crunching of broken plantation. The noise is, in fact, a shriek. A high-pitched scream, as it were. �ARGHARRRRRAAIIIIIIIIIIAAAAIIIIIIIIAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIII-MF!� The camera spins on its axis in an attempt to follow a large object swinging from the tree. There appears to be a man (and a large man, at that.) attached to the end of the one of the trees more major branches, his arms and legs both wrapped around the sturdy support for dear life. However, the branch itself is unable to take the wait and it is bending right down, the entire tree leaning with it. Unexpectedly, the man flies off the branch as it snaps from its support, and lands most uncomfortable through the window of an enormous building right next to it. With a painful OOMPF! the man finds himself spread-eagled in a pile of shattered glass on red carpet! The camera slowly backs up, remaining still outside the building, to maintain a full view of the building we are viewing. The building is a large and neoclassical, white-painted sandstone mansion, a series of six pillars making up its southern face, a flag protruding from the centre of its long and flat roof. Surrounding the house is a plethora of greenery, trees and bushes and finely trimmed hedges., water-sprinklers going off in-frequently and a long row of red flowers marching along the front lawns like guarding soldiers. This place we stare at through camera�s lens is The White House, official residence of whomever be the current United States President! Without a second glance at this monumental building, the camera returns its view to the inside, where still lies the man who moments ago unintentionally broke a window to find himself an unexpected entrance to the President�s residential home and base of operations. The man himself, cut and bleeding in a number of places from glass (don�t believe everything you see in the movies, kids,) appears to be about 6�5�� and well muscled. He has long blonde hair, formerly in a ponytail but apparently no longer, a similarly-colored goatee unkemptly grown on his face. A pair of sunshades lay on the carpet beside him, his eyes firmly closed from his impactful fall. The man is, without a shadow of a doubt, Headstrong Wrestling and Fusion�s own, The Jackrabbit! As the camera zooms in to check on its focus superstar, the apparently-injured and dazed man does something unexpected of an apparently-injured and dazed man. The Jackrabbit leaps to his feet like a jack-in-a-box, waving both hands and his face in the camera, a crazed look of excited bewilderment on his face! THE JACKRABBIT: �Hey-a �Rabbit Fans worldwide and in other places too! How�s tricks, hm ho? Well, as you can or cannot see, I am here. In this big.. white building.. place. Now Mr. Bushes lives here, and so what better way to do my job, than to go see Mr. Bushes. Ah, hold your horses so they don�t run away, I hear you saying out loud to myself! What, for the love of all-things chocolaty, is your job, Mr. The Jackrabbit? I�m a wrestler! Well aha, you knew that bit already you clever little �Rabbit Fans! But my new real special job, is that I am�� He suddenly takes a screwed-up piece of paper from the pocket of his red tartan long-shorts, and unfolds it. He reads from the paper. �Headstrong Wrasslin�s official Global Denomination Representer.� How cool is that?� The camera moves back to now see the T-shirt that The Jackrabbit is wearing. Apparently he has either understood his task (to a point), or someone has explained it to him. For The Unorthodox One is wearing an official HSW Global Domination T-shirt� except, over the top of it, in distinguishable blue felt-tip pen, are the words �BYE IT NOW!! PRETTY PLEASE! CHEERZ MUCH!!� and a very tiny Jackrabbit logo, blending the letters J and R into one un-usual letter. Suddenly the sound of approaching feet is heard, apparently having heard the sounds of breaking glass, and The Jackrabbit, either knowingly or instinctively, puts his boots to the floor and begins running down the nearest corridor that leads away from the approaching feet. Speeding down corridors and dodging security guards and other general occupants of the building, in a worrying impression of secret agent activity (that is, his hands held up and his middle and first fingers pointed up like an imaginary gun, with his back pressed to any and every surface he can find.) The camera finally catches up with The Jackrabbit, who is somehow moving with the speed akin to his namesake, in the famous Cross Hall that connects the State Dining Room to the East Room and the North Portico, to the Official Presidential Seal. A red carpet runs through the center of this furnished room, huge white pillars and arches akin to those on the White House exterior stand proudly over the Hall, wooden chairs accompanying them polished to beyond perfection. The Jackrabbit skips into the Cross Hall, managing to maintain a balance after tripping on the red carpet and rolling it up at the edge. He doesn�t put it back down, but instead stares up in awe at the expensive twin glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. THE JACKRABBIT: �Oooh �Rabbit Fans, now ain�t that purrty? This whole place is very posh and stuff, but I still don�t see Mr. Bushes anyway. I seen dude in black suits carrying sticks and guns and all sorts, but no Bushes. All sticks, no Bushes. Hmph. How am I �sposed to spread the word of Global Denomination without the Presydent�s help? I need to send a message! Like me and Talon did back on Shocker the other week. We sure sent a message to Kiddy and Chesney Cash. They didn�t have a hope, me and Tal did warn �em boths and they still showed up to the match. And then, the week after, Fusion� that�s us!� we sent another message. Not like, a little postcard or an e-mail message �cos that would be lazy and me and Tal aren�t lazy. This type of message was a �appear out of nowhere and scare the living popsicles out of the new number one contenders� type of message. I hopes it worked. Rumour has it that some dude and some girly won the Tag Team Titles. But the way The Jackrabbit� that�s me!� sees it, they�re just� well, it�s like holding chocolate, y�see. Constantine and Amphalongwordthatmakesnosense are holding the Tag Team belts like they be chocolate. But when I last tried holding chocolate, instead of staying all nice and yummy, like the belts, the chocolate went hot and melted and got all runny and icky� well that�s what�s them belts are going to be like for the champs. The belts well get all runny and icky, until Fusion come along and snatch them away from them. Well that�s the way I sees it anyway. See, Amphalongwordthatmakesnosense and Constantine, they aren�t really the HS-Dub Tag Team champinos. The Jackrabbit and Talon are. That�s us. We�re the HS-Dub Tag Team champinos, those other guys are like our microwaves; they�re just keeping the belts warm for us! And if they don�t give �em back when they�m nice and warm, they�re just in our path. And as my big buddy Tal always says� when Fusion rises; none shall block its path. Mwauahahahahahaha!!!� The camera spins around in time to see, over The Jackrabbit�s shoulder as the man stands there laughing his heart out with his head tipped back, that the President of the United States, Mr George W. Bush, has arrived in the Cross Hall, a score of security guards, each armed to the teeth, in front and behind him. The Jackrabbit feels their presence and turns around, a big ecstatic grin marking his face. He jumps up and down suddenly, pointing over and over at his HSW Global Domination T-shirt. THE JACKRABBIT: �Mr. Presydent! Mr. Bushes! Buy Global Denomination! HS-Dub YEAH! You know you want it! You really want it! You want it bad, Mr. Bushes! You want to get some Global Denomination all over the world. You want it �cos my Itchy Pod says you do!� The President and several of his guards gasp aloud. PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH: �Guards, seize that pervert! Remove him from my building!� Hearing this, The Jackrabbit panics, backing off from the advancing guards. He begins frantically rummaging in his pockets, still pointing at his Global Domination T-shirt with the other. He digs out of his pocket a packet of savoury snacks, and hastily holds them out in the President�s direction. THE JACKRABBIT: �Want a pretzel?� PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH: �GET HIM OUT OF HERE!� Despite the protests of The Jackrabbit, the security seizes the HSW wrestler, grabbing his arms and legs from all angles, dragging him from the White House in a most undignified manner. The camera follows this for a moment, before hissing and crackling back to the familiar static that has beleaguered it from the beginning of this segment. As the past images of The Jackrabbit�s arrest in Washington D.C disappear into the murky black and white, new words appear on top of the static. The text reads �PRESENT TIME� thus indicating the shift from last week�s Washington footage. The camera refocuses itself now, the static subsiding gradually. We can see before the camera�s view a throng of people, each bustling to get to their correct allotments with large bags or cases accompanying them on their journeys. An electronic voice is heard in a monotone above the din, it states �We would like to remind all passengers that for security reasons, no luggage is to be left unattended at any time.� The scene is an airport, the departure lounge to be precise. The character zooms in, finding its target making a purchase from the sweets and confectionaries trolley in the departure lounge; his luggage left lazily on his feet a good twenty feet away. The man purchasing his fine assortment of liquorice and sherbets is the self-proclaimed �Unorthodox One� otherwise known as The Jackrabbit. Apparently The Jackrabbit had been released for his previous crimes in Washington, cautioned most likely due to the accidental and misunderstood nature of his actions. He stands now in the very same T-shirt we saw previously, and a pair of dark grey jeans in accompaniment. It takes him but a moment to notice his viewing audience, and he greets them through the camera lens in his usual high-pitched, fast-paced manner. THE JACKRABBIT: �Hey-d-hi-di-ho ho ho �Rabbit Fans here, �Rabbit Fans there, and �Rabbit Fans abso-fantast-lutely everywhere! S�been such a real super busy few weeks travelling here and there and here again trying to be Mr. HS-Dub Global Denomination Representer. Must say, nobody did tell me how much I�d be hopping onto these dang airplanes! I mean, seriously� can�t a dude tour the whole globe without going up high in the sky? Don�t much like going up high. Last time I done that, things happened and me and Tal fell out� well, that�s a story for another day. Maybe when you�re a little bit older, eh? Anywhoodles, the tour has been going funky so far� I seen this weird place called Samoa, and Mexico, and a place where they speak funny called Engl-� Suddenly there is a noise from somewhere inside The Jackrabbit�s jeans, a polyphonic sound somewhat resembling the theme tune from the original �Mighty Morphin Power Rangers� television series. The Jackrabbit reaches into his jeans� pocket and pulls out a cellphone. VOICE ON PHONE: �Jay.� THE JACKRABBIT: �Tal? Is that you Tal? Oh my gosh, Tal? You actually used a phone!?� TALON: �Yes, hello. Do you understand what you have next week, Jay? Your match, I mean, of course. You are scheduled to take on Jonny Kae. That match will be of importance Jay. Remember what I have said to you, of destroying and burning the small, so that the large are all the easier to assault? This is not the small, this is the large, these are, indeed, who we are here to assault. Who we are here to destroy. Although you face one, they come as two. And as a Fusion we will fight. I trust, of course, you understand. Or at least enough. You will fight, and I will be watching. Then, after, we will send a message through them to all else around us.� And with that, Talon hangs up on his tag team partner and the phone line goes dead. The Jackrabbit looks at the cell phone for a moment, then eventually pockets it. He scratches his blonde-topped head for a moment, then looks into the camera lens through his heavily-shaded glasses. THE JACKRABBIT: �Well, I haven�t a clue what that was all aboot, but what�s new with Tal, huh? Seems that Boss Number One and Boss Number Two have decided that Your Friendly Neighborhood Jackrabbit shall be going against this Jonny Kae person. Couldn�t frankly honestly really tell you why the Two Bosses have put me against Jonny Kae, but that�s cool. The Jackrabbit is a happy-go-lucky.. uh.. Jackrabbit. Thanks to this journeying all over kingdom-come and whatnot, I haven�t been in the ring for a little while. That makes me sad. But don�t you go thinking for one second� or one minute actually. Even for an hour. Or a day. Don�t you go thinking at all, JonJon, that that means The Jackrabbit will be rusty. To go rusty, I�d have to be all made of metal and stuff, like that Steele guy in the Playa�z Gang. �Cept them are broken up now. I wonder if that means I won�t be able to get Dion�s autograph. I like Dion, y�see, �cos she�s a flower, and I never seen a flower-woman before. Which is pretty neat. Hm� lemme think�. Itchy Pod and Al Co-Pop� Kiddy Shoesy-hide and Christopher Cash� yep, that makes Mr. Kae my very first one-on-one-on-one-on-one match in HS-Dub! Well then Mr. Kae, that makes this whole thing extra special. I may even treat you to two Last Laughs instead of one, hehehehehe! You�d like that, wouldn�t you JonJon? You�re a bad guy here in HS-Dub now, ain�tchya screwball? I saw what you did that nice little psycho person. I saw how you treated nice Mr. Itchy Pod and the World Champino Steamer. You�m a bad ass, right JonJon? Well for starters, my motto has always been that if you got a bad ass; you should see a doctor about it. Secondly, The Jackrabbit has met a lot of bad asses in this wrasslin� thing, (I assumes its contay-jus or something,) and they�m all the same. JonJon, I dares you to be different. I dares you to step into the squared circle� what�s the deal with that anyway? Is it a square, or is it a circle? Hmph�. And I dares you to look me in the eye and do this thing no �bad ass� can do in wrasslin�. I dare you, Jonny Kae, to� smile.� As if to demonstrate, The Jackrabbit pulls his biggest, cheesiest, happiest grin right into the camera. Chuckling under his breath, he lifts his sunglasses, winks at the camera, and pushes them back down onto his nose. �Ah Mr. Kae, presumed associate of Mr. El and Mr. Emm and Mr. Ehn, Oh, and Pee. But if you do, mop it up afterwards, Mwuahahehehehe. We came here with the single sole mission of proving to the world nationwide and beyond that The Jackrabbit� that�s me!� and Talon are best buddies once again. We even got a funky joint theme tune and entrance, too! We�re gonna do that by winning the HS-Dub Tag Team gold, JonJon, and quite truthfully chum, you be in the way. But that�s okay, �cos �bad ass� or no �bad ass�� Fusion will walk through you. If we don�t go through you, we�ll go over you. If we don�t go over you, we�ll go under you. If that fails, we go around you. JonJon, �bad ass� or no �bad ass�� on Shocker, my little screwball buddy, The Jackrabbit will get The Last Laugh!� And with this said, The Jackrabbit tips back his head, blonde hair flowing down his back, eyes pointed through sunshades at the departure lounge ceiling, and he laughs. A long laugh. A loud laugh. The last laugh. Flight 53 to Osaka now boarding. Passengers please make your way to Gate 7. That�s flight number 53 to Osaka, Japan, now boarding at Gate 7. Thank you. Hearing the announcement, the numbers of times The Jackrabbit has performed this routine in the last two weeks alone, (and the numbers of times he has failed the routine and missed his flight,) lead him to respond immediately, and the HSW superstar stuffs his sweets into his pockets, grabs his luggage and heads to Gate 7, his laughing still barely dying out. The camera cuts to an all-too familiar static.