Fade in.
A beautiful blue sky broken by the sun’s blinding glow and puffy white clouds is our opening view. The sounds of organised transit-based chaos fill the air, from mechanical whirs and roaring engines to honking horns and the bustle of hurried commuters, soundtracking a single fat pigeon flying not-so-gracefully across the shot, before we start panning down.
Before us sits a big old bus station. All grey concrete, white paint, and dirty windows, dozens of people stream in and out of its doors, each of them heading somewhere different. Fleets of big, long buses sit at the platforms, ready to take the masses to their destinations.
V/O: Hooo boy, what a day!
A deep, gruff voice bellows nearby. Panning sideways, the new shot reveals a colossal man leaning his forearms on a short wall a good distance out from the bus station, taking in the action. His back is so huge you could etch a map of the United States across his shoulder blades without scrimping on details.
THIS BIG BASTARD: The sun is shining, the people are moving, and the wheels keeps spinning. Mass transit! You gotta love it.
He turns around, this big, beefy boy – and yes, he’s a monster. A shot-filling presence almost as broad as he is tall, he’s a solidly-packed unit, not soft and flabby, but rocking multiple X’s on his shirt size nonetheless. He addresses the camera directly.
DOUBLE DECKER: Hey there wrestling fans, how’s everybody doing?! My name is Double Decker, and let me tell you… I’m so excited to get started right here in Classic Wrestling!
Double Decker slams his two meat-plate hands together with such accidental force that he likely triggered a tsunami on the other side of the country. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given his monicker, he is dressed like he’s about to hop behind the wheel of one of these buses and hit the road, decked out in a sky-blue button-up shirt, navy slacks, and a little hat, all adorned with bus logos.
DOUBLE DECKER: You know, ever since I was just an itty-bitty minivan pulling out of the station for the first time, I only wanted to be two things: a wrestler, and a <i>BUS</i>, and now I get to be both! Let me tell ya brothers and sisters, there’s no greater thrill in the world than firing up the engines, loading up the passengers, and hauling ass to that Classic ring!
A dark brown clump of half-mullet, half-curls sits beneath his bus driver’s hat and falls down the back of his neck. His beard is significantly shorter, and his eyes blue – and almost innocent.
DOUBLE DECKER: We got ourselves one hell of a journey ahead of us – I’m talking ‘Big Daddy’ Route 20, 3,300 miles and counting! – and it starts with the first stop on the trip, Carlos Ruiz!
Though Double Decker points directly down the camera’s lens when mentioning his opponent’s name, he does so without a hint of malice.
DOUBLE DECKER: Carlos, you and I are gonna have one hell of a Greyhound ride this week! I respect any man who takes his destiny in his own hands, gets out there, and chases his dream, brother, and that’s exactly what you’ve done, my Spanish friend! But let me ask you something, man. In this industry…
It’s unclear if Decker is referring to wrestling or the industry in full flow behind him.
DOUBLE DECKER: … there are two kinds of people: riders and drivers. Which one are you gonna be when that big ol’ Decker pulls up to the platform, starts checking tickets, and honks that horn?
His brow furrows for a brief moment, then uses up again.
DOUBLE DECKER: Anyone can buy the ticket, brother, but are you man enough to take the ride?! We’ll find out when Carlos Ruiz and Double Decker hit that Classic Wrestling ring!
The big man smiles, then looks over his shoulder to the bus station behind him just as a big, blue Megabus is leaving.
DOUBLE DECKER: Anyway friends, this Big Greyhound’s got a timetable to keep. Double Decker has left the station! HOOOOONNNNNNNK!
Decker pushes his palm forwards, as if he was hitting a bus’ horn with that last word. We fade out as the big man turns back towards the real action.