“So it’s come to this.”
We were quickly greeted by the pained, bandaged faces of Leon Van Zandt and Mushigihara, the Foreign Legion. The camera zooms away, exposing us to the stern countenance of their manager, Eddie Dante, staring with contempt at his clients.
Two weeks of grueling training, of making you two work your hands to the bone. Of taking you to your absolute limits, as a reminder to never. EVER. Let yourselves get too confident against any opponent, no matter how feeble they appear. You two may have squandered an opportunity to become tag team champions of Classic Wrestling at Slam-a-Thon, but perhaps on Sunday night you boys can still salvage a little dignity.
The international talents sigh deeply and nod their heads, their aching bodies driving groans from their throats as well.
Especially if you two make an example out of that meatheaded lummox Scott Hunter. Him and his pal Rikki Roxx already have a world of hurt heading their way in the Gund Arena on Sunday night, but Hunter in particular decided he would rather run his mouth and not take our team seriously…
Dante snaps his head back towards Mushigihara and Van Zandt, before grabbing Van Zandt by his shirt collar and pulling him in close and yelling.
NOT THAT ANYBODY WOULD REALLY _BLAME HIM_, THE WAY YOU TWO EMBARRASSED YOURSELVES THE LAST TIME YOU WALKED INTO A RING!
Dante unceremoniously slaps Leon across the face, before taking a deep breath and continuing on.
But I digress. The lackadaisical attitude of Scott Hunter will be his undoing, and quite frankly, lads, if you really want to redeem yourselves at Slam-a-Thon, perhaps you can look into breaking every single bone in his body.
Clutching his cheek, the Professional nods and grumbles…
Yes, Meneer Dante… I will get my hands on him… and snap him…
Good man. Because I’ve seen those Indian clubs you like to train with, they are quite heavy, yes?
The Professional responds with a blunt nod.
So surely if my cane can’t get the message into your head, perhaps one of THOSE will.
Raising his cane up to Van Zandt’s face once again, the managing mogul opts for a simple tap of the handle between the eyes.
If a bit of wood won’t teach you, perhaps fifteen pounds of steel will.
For his part, Van Zandt doesn’t flinch, simply crossing his arms at his heaving chest.
And then there’s the matter of the pretty boy rockstar, Rikki Roxx. His guitar licks are no match for YOUR wrestling stylings, right, Mushigihara?
The Emperor can only nod and reply with a sheepish…
Attaboy. He might be able to rock n’ roll all night, and party ev-uh-ree day, but those calisthenics I put you on, the ones Leon does? They’ve boosted your cardio through the roof too, and with your power?
The Emperor instinctively does the old-school bicep flex, almost as if on command.
He’ll be singing the blues in no time. Right, Mushi?
That’s right, old son, because you know that demolishing those two is your way onto bigger and better things… like not doing squats until you vomit.
Mushi groans and clutches his stomach and shakes his head at the mention of Dante’s cruel training methods. Dante simply chuckles and moves along.
And hey, fellas! Don’t be too glum! You have another great advantage over the rockstar and the slacker! They haven’t even talked to each other about this big match, much less worked out a strategy on how to hold their own against world class talents such as yourselves! Surely you’ll be able to take advantage of this grave lack of teamwork, and prove to them, and to all of Classic Wrestling, that hard work and teamwork pay off! And once we’ve made our statement at Slam-A-Thon and walked out of the Gund Arena victorious? Then we start planning ahead on how we’ll rise up the tag team ranks and come after whoever’s holding those belts… even if it’s by their rules. Well… after a hard-earned day of rest.
The notion of a reprieve from the hellish training the Foreign Legion has endured is enough to make both Mushi and Van Zandt smile faintly, and… is that a tear running down the Emperor’s cheek?
…IF you win, and don’t step in there and give us another round of that bull-