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Mikey Unlikey's Fed of All Feds

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Deserve

The lights are dimmer than usual, but the setting is familiar enough.  The edges of the Classic Wrestling banner can be seen peeking out from behind the mass of humanity before it.  Lord Colossus stares down the camera, while Walt Whezl points with his umbrella.  “All Business” Alex Bruder stands in front of Lord Colossus, blocking less of him from sight than is comfortable.  A man you’d avoid in any bar in the world, whom you’d cross the street to avoid, absolutely dwarfed by the brute behind him.  Both stand stock still for a few beats, and then Bruder starts shaking his head.


“I am not a tag team wrestler.  The very first Real World’s Champion, I didn’t devote my life to being the best in the squared circle just so that I could stand on an apron, encouraging another man to succeed.  However, if I have to wrestle with a partner, I can’t think of a man I’d rather have on my side that the behemoth I’m once more paired up with.  This beast, this force of nature, can take the blows of the hardest men, and leave them crumpled on the mat when he returns fire.  I respect my partner, and what he’ll bring to the match, which is absolute devastation to two fools who deserve every bit of it.”

 

Walt Whezl twirls his umbrella dramatically in the background as Bruder takes a second to gather his thoughts.  When he continues, his eyes drill into the camera.

 

“First off, there’s good ol’ Metro, Classic’s reigning Real World’s Champion.  And folks, it pains me to say this, but the guy is good.  Not as good as he thinks, but damned good.  Still, after months of him trying to build himself up by dragging me down, claiming I was ducking all the contenders, I can’t help but laugh at his first title defense.  Unsurprisingly, Metro had it backwards again; Vito, you’re supposed to wrestle tag matches against the little tag guys, and you defend the Real World’s Champion against the actual contenders!”

 

Bruder smiles while Lord Colossus roars and smashes one massive fist into the other open palm.

 

“I am curious, Metro, what tricks you have up your sleeve this time.  The last time I tagged with Lord Colossus, you used the ropes to gain an illegal advantage.  In our championship match, you faked an injury.  What will it be this time?  Maybe ask “Wild” Kat to come out in your ring gear?  Wouldn’t work, Vito.  Unlike your mother, most women don’t have as thick a beard as you do.”

 

Bruder seems unusually pleased at himself, as his dead eyes light up for a second, before continuing on.

 

“And then there’s Papa Wild Thing, “Feral” Freddy Kilgore.  Kilgore, you’re like a perpetual motion machine in the ring, but with that build, and all of that very impressive mass, how’s your stamina?  What happens when I get you on the ground and crank in a leg vice, crushing your rib cage, constraining your breath?  How effective is your Call of the Wild when I’ve spent ten minutes working your hamstrings?  While you’re jumping and clapping on the apron because I’m breaking your partner down to his greasy component parts, you’ll just be wearing yourself out.  And again, I’m the greatest champion Classic has ever seen, but when you’re worrying about how to avoid or escape my Cobra Clutch, you’ve taken your eyes off of the absolute mountain of a man behind me.  I am precise, Kilgore, like a scalpel, and I wield my skills surgically.  Lord Colossus is a siege engine.  He’ll blow through your defenses like they weren’t even there.”

 

Bruder closes his eyes, gathering his breath, stroking his mutton chops.

 

“If it were up to me, I’d be taking the title back from Metro, or embarrassing Kilgore in front of his woman by my lonesome.  Gentleman, that would at least be a fair fight.  What we have instead, the odds are so stacked against you as to be unseemly.  The beating you two are going to catch, honestly it should shame me.  But try as I might, looking at the two of you, I just can’t seem to care.  You boys deserve everything you’re about to get.”

 

Bruder stabs out with his finger.

 

“Every bruise.”

 

Again.

 

“Every cut.”

 

Again.

 

“Every broken bone.”

 

Bruder smiles wickedly.

 

“‘Metro’, Kilgore, you two should just be grateful that you’re not getting everything that you deserve.”

 

And with that the dim lights extinguish.

 

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