“Well, then. Let us begin.”
We are greeted this time by a thick European accent, not the smooth, cosmopolitan voice of a certain manager.
We find ourselves in a very sparse room; a wide, empty floor, save for a few recognizable pieces of exercise equipment. A kettlebell. What appears to be a hammer, with the head wrapped in a thick sweatshirt. A pair of metal clubs. And in the middle of it all, seated in a meditative position, a sinewy, strong man staring us right in the eye.
The Belgian tricolor and the fearsome Leeuwenvlaag of Flanders hanging on the back wall make it very clear that we’re in the presence of the brutal grappler of Classic Wrestling’s Foreign Legion, Leon Van Zandt.
After soundly defeating Rikki Roxx and Scott Hunter at Slam-a-Thon, and once again earning the favor of Meneer Dante, we have put the new Classic Wrestling Tag Team Champions in our sights. And Meneer Dante has allowed me to PERSONALLY address my opponent for Sunday night, Lunchbox Larry; the same Lunchbox Larry who holds one of the belts that my colleague Mushigihara and myself WANT.
The Flemish Face of Fear rises to his feet, standing tall and proud as he drapes an Indian club across each shoulder.
And on Classic Wrestling TV, it will fall upon me to prove the power of the Foreign Legion, man to man, as we stake a claim at the tag team championships. And I am fully aware that I am NOT in the ring with that fat slob, Bobby Dean. No, my opponent is one who looks like he could endure the hellish training I undertook when my wrestling career began, when the weak were culled so the strong could make their living in this hellish sport.
The Professional lowers his clubs and chuckles.
My mentors would tell you that wrestling was a sport of the working man, and its popularity among the American working class is no accident. But Lunchbox Larry… the very name evokes the idealistic, hardscrabble everyman, the embodiment of the American Dream, where anyone can succeed if they just put in the work and give of themselves for that dream. And supposedly, that even extends to the world of professional wrestling.
Leon shrugs and nods, cracking a grin all the while.
But as a man who came up around the salt of the very earth in Europe’s catch wrestling scene, I can tell you that where I am from, it takes far more than hard work and hopes and dreams to succeed. You have to FIGHT. Scrape. Claw. Crush. For EVERYTHING you earn in that ring. Because Europe has been FAR less interested in big muscles with no strength behind them, or a catchphrase you can place on a shirt, than they are in your ability to defeat your opponent, CRUSH them into the mat, and end your battles quickly and efficiently.
The camera begins to close in on the face of the Belgian grappler.
And that is the core of why you have no chance against me in that run Sunday night, Larry. Bobby Dean, SOMEHOW, managed to help you pin Mushigihara the last time we met in the ring. But now there is no Mushigihara. And there is no Bobby Dean.
Leon chuckles again.
There is only you and me; the Everyman, and the Professional. The man who runs on hopes and dreams, and the man who learned long ago not to merely hope or dream… but to simply GRAB whatever he desires, and crush anyone who gets in his way. And after I’ve left you on that mat, having begged for mercy?
The camera pulls back out, allowing us to see Leon make the classic “give me the belt” gesture with his hands around his waist.
The Foreign Legion will go after those championship belts, and prove to THE ENTIRE BUSINESS that Mushigihara and Leon Van Zandt ARE the rightful tag team champions of the world, ruling Classic Wrestling with iron fists. And Meneer Dante will be there with us, sitting atop his post as the BEST manager in Classic Wrestling! Do you think you can stop us from our goal?
Another zoom back to his face.
Why don’t you step inside the ring and try?
The camera slowly pulls back from a grinning Van Zandt, as Dvorak begins to play in the background.