The camera opens in an arcade inside of run down mall. Standing behind the glass display counter with a short, stocky, balding man standing next to him is none other than yours truly, The Undercover Lover.
Owner: So yuh’s sits back here and wait for da kids tuh come up an’ give yuh tickets for some cheap plastic under the glass. If a machine croaks, put up an’ outta order sign and deny refunds. And dat’s basically the gig, kid.
UL: Sounds pretty simple; scam the kids and unplug machines. But say I gotta ask ya, how many moms do we get in this scene.
Owner: Not many. Matter of fact, we barely get any kids in this joint. It’s mostly thirty year old virgins wantin’ tuh play the new Ninja Turtles game in a stinkin’ cabinet.
UL: Yeah, the Lover doesn’t get the hype. But believe me when I say that we know the type.
The Lover turns and winks to the camera, causing the arcade owner to double take. He gives the Lover a swift slap to the face.
Owner: Don’t be recordin’ in here. ‘specially when I’m runnin’ down how the operation works.
UL: Believe me boss, after today Lover’s tight as clams. But I’m also positive people are already on to your scams.
Lover once again cheekily turns to the camera. Fed up, the arcade owner grabs him by the chin and turns him back to face him.
Owner: Dis ain’t an office job, so quit “Jimmin'” the camera. I’m gonna go out back and hose off a “Lucky & Wild” cabinet that some kid yak’d on. When I come back, I want zero cameras in here. Capishe?
The little scowling portly man waddles off. The Lover watches him leave, cautious to make sure he’s gone before snapping around to face the camera.
UL: Welcome to The Lover’s new side gig. I’m sure it’s something that man-child Vito would dig. I’m glad to see your reign of terror come to an end, especially since that end belonged to our wide posterior’d friend. It shoulda been Bruder and everyone knows, especially after you threw a tantrum and begged for rematches while stepping on everyone’s toes.
The Lover pensively raps his fingers on the glass case as he boredly inspects the arcade.
UL: While I don’t exactly condone this nostalgic man-cave, at least unlike CW it has the structure I crave. No cuts, no buts, no coconuts. No stepping out of line. No begging for a refund when there’s an out of order sign. You’ve been out of order Vito. Instead of going to the back of the line, you filibustered and vetoed until Bruder gave you another shot, you swine. But at the first sign of any true opposition, you found your reign and credibility in critical condition. Thank Buddha for Shujin coming along and nearly putting you out of commission. But if you think The Lover is little more than an intermission between you heading to the big show in the P-A-C division, then prepare to be exploited for your naive inhibitions.
Lover slams his palms on the counter and stretches his torso over the glass, shoving his masked face directly into the camera’s lens.
UL: You cut me in line once before to the top of this promotion. You got a fair shot at Alex Bruder, but when you lost you started a commotion. This ain’t happening again Valentino, so expect very little pity when I roll you up you greedy swine and send Babe packing back to the big city. News flash for you Vito; you’re not the Mecca of anywhere. You’re just some petulant whining child, and the proof’s in your lack of hair. So when the Lover beats you, it’s the excuses you can spare, because when I’m done with you I’ll defeat the champ whose feet are always bare.
The fire exit opens, pouring light into the dismally lit arcade. The few neckbeards in the place guard their eyes from daylight as the owner steps back inside.
Owner: ‘ey kid! Ya wanna get paid early?
UL: Always.
Owner: Yuh seem hungry tuh put those pouty lips to work. Why don’tcha come out back and suck some quarters outta this box? Heh heh heh.
UL: Lover certainly doesn’t like the sound of it. I’m not up for getting paid in tokens, so I think that means I quit. Man I barely even started here and I’m already tired of this-
Cut to black.