“This is it, boys.”
The Foreign Legion, after weeks of browbeating and torment at the hands of their manager Eddie Dante, look into the camera lens like gray-faced bags of meat. The ordeals they have faced, along with the string of failures they have faced in the ring, have taken a toll on them.
On the other hand, Eddie Dante greets us, glowing in his usual majesty, albeit with an ever-simmering rage that has become hotter and hotter with each passing week. His hands are bone-white, clenching the handle of his cane, and beneath his affable exterior is the soul of a man ready to murder someone. Most likely his own men.
In Your Haunted House. The Foreign Legion vs. BDSM.
Worth noting here that the usual cringing that comes with Dante uttering the name of the Classic Wrestling Tag Team Champions is gone.
This one’s for the belts. Those tag team championships we first made a STATEMENT by taking for ourselves. Those tag team championships that should, and COULD still be ours, if YOU two…
With a sweeping motion to his clients, Dante snaps at Mushigihara and Leon Van Zandt. Their spirits long crushed, the flippant outburst barely fazes them.
…were to WRESTLE like the rightful Tag Team Champions of the World! But is that the team that stands in front of me today? NO! Instead, I get a pair of BUMS, who couldn’t even defeat Bobby “I Never Met A Box Of Donuts I Didn’t Like to Eat” Dean, and on the LAST episode of Classic Wrestling, LAID AN EGG against those mushmouthed SURFER BROS!
Dante lashes out with his cane, landing the knob right between the eyes of the Belgian known as the Professional, who can only grab his face and groan in pain.
Leon. Give me one reason. ONE. Why I shouldn’t just send you back to wrestling coal miners in staph-soaked mats somewhere in Antwerp! After you dropped the ball against Surf Express Bro, I could’ve had you fired then and there, but SOMEHOW, I’m a sap, because I’m giving you this one. Final. Chance. To prove yourself alongside this so-called “Emperor,” and bring those championships back to their rightful holders, IF! You wrestle like you are ACTUAL CHAMPIONS.
A spark seems to pop up in the eyes of Mushigihara, as his voice starts to rumble.
This catches the attention of both Dante AND LVZ, who look on the Japanese Juggernaut with something resembling awe.
Yes, Mushi, that fighting spirit is going to be key. I KNOW you both have it, boys, and when you step in that ring with BDSM on Halloween Night, you will be their worst NIGHTMARE!
They’ll be nothing but piles of twisted humanity, writhing in pain and sorrow as we walk off with OUR tag team championships, and take our RIGHTFUL place as rulers of the entire division!
Dante grins wide and proud, only to go grim almost immediately after.
But if you fail, boys?
The nightmare will be yours.
The wrestlers of the Foreign Legion simply look at Dante with blank faces.
Backstage at RBTV Studios.
Eddie Dante had long left the venue in a rage, after seeing his Legion lose to Surf Express Bro. The shock of seeing his manager leave without him, and the tension of getting in his partner’s face after the match, left Mushigihara at a loss of what to do. He stared at the walls in the locker room for a good half hour, not even noticing lights coming off, until a staff member of the studio nudged him out of his trance and told him it was time to leave.
The Emperor stood outside, awaiting some form of ride, wondering what his next act would be.
Until a hand tapped his shoulder, sending the massive Japanese spinning into a frenzy, stopping only upon recognizing his face.
Leon Van Zandt.
Leon Van Zandt:
No, Mushi. I am not here to fight you over what happened in the ring tonight. I know we are both upset with how that match went, and I am not here to pass blame onto you. Come with me.
The pair started walking to nowhere in particular, into the autumn night of Ohio.
Leon Van Zandt:
I… we… need to talk. Talk about Meneer Dante.