PROMO: A New Sound that he deemed Killer Instinct

[Guest kelloggs]

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The scene: A small gymnasium, somewhere in the outskirts of Philadelphia...an indeterminate time between Crimson and Metal.

 

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On one side of the ring...the new SJL World Champion. The backbone of the sWo. The Franchise. Mak Francis.

 

On the other side...a nervous jobber in red tights.

 

Francis grins and advances several steps, flexing his arms. The jobber, a shorter man with blond hair who sadly has no name and at this point never will, runs forward. Francis quickly stuns the man with a punch to the gut, then picks him up on his shoulder. Swinging the jobber forward, Francis drives him down shoulder-first onto his outstretched knee. The man spasms with pain and rolls away, groaning.

 

Another wrestler slips into the ring and charges the World Champion. Francis turns and whips his hand through the air to impact the man's chest, a loud SMACK echoing through the room. As the wrestler staggers Francis ducks and hoists him onto his shoulders, holding the man in a fireman's carry. Turning slightly to display his catch to the onlookers, the Franchise makes a small leap to one side, sending the jobber crashing down to the mat on his shoulders.

 

A soft clapping echoes through the room. Mak Francis sits up, breathing heavily, as another man climbs into the ring. This man has long, stringy hair, wearing baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt featuring a likeness of Stu Hart in his prime with the legend 'HAVE SOME DISCIPLINE'. And he's smiling.

 

"I think that's enough for today, fellas," Fugue says, glancing at the other wrestlers. The supserstars-in-training file out of the gym, muttering to themselves and groaning as they hold their aches. The Franchise grins as he gets to his feet, towering over his fellow sWo member.

 

"Tony," Francis says, nodding. "I haven't seen you in here before."

 

"Oh, I think I can handle it now," Fugue says, eyes scanning the room. The Franchise blinks. Then the musician catches his eyes, smiling. "Matt gave me the address, I didn't think you'd mind. So...How's it feel, champ?"

 

Francis laughs, and turns to pace across the ring, hands on his hips. "It feels...great."

 

"Just like you thought it would?"

 

The Franchise hesitates. For a second it all comes back to him--the spectacle, the sheer energy of thousands of fans, half a dozen larger than life personalities crammed together in the ring...and him with the belt...

 

Fugue raises an eyebrow. "Mak?"

 

"Oh? Oh, yeah." Francis nods. "Yeah, I--it's even better than I thought it would be...being...well the best...the Junior Leagues Franchise!" He laughs loudly.

 

Fugue smiles. "I see."

 

Francis exhales. Then his eyes narrow as he peers at his partner. "Here you go again. You lost your title, and you're questioning *my* heart?"

 

Fugue shrugs. "That's why I'm here." Fugue brandishes a larger grin. "...Right?"

 

Francis looks around the gymnasium, taking in mats, barbells, pullup bars, the ring itself. He shakes his head. "That was an important match you lost, Tony. Of course, the big deal was MY match, but--"

 

"I know, I know." Fugue turns away, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "But I know my own music. I know the progression, the rhythm, the crescendo and decrescendo." He spreads his arms wide, still facing away from the Franchise. "But do you know YOUR tunes?"

 

Francis eyes the smaller man. "You know you don't really have to talk like that around us, Tony," he says, keeping the nervousness from his voice.

 

Fugue turns back, shaking his head and smiling. He says nothing for several moments, then sighs. "Can I help you train?"

 

The Franchise stares. "What?"

 

"C'mon. Let's see some of those Franchisable moves." Fugue steps up and shoves the larger man lightly.

 

"Hey, c'mon, Tony."

 

"I'm serious," Fugue replies, leering up at Francis. "It'll be good for you. Just imagine I'm Canadian. That's what this is all aboot, right?" He shoves Francis again.

 

The Franchise frowns and shoves back. "That's not funny - "

 

"I never said it was." Interrupts Fugue suddenly slipping his foot behind Francis' leg and spinning his body, yanking the surprised Franchise off his feet in a drop toe hold. He grabs Francis around the neck in an amateur style, but the bigger man pushes him off, sending him tumbling across the ring.

 

Francis stares at Fugue hops to his feet, smiling. "That's more like it!" the musician says. He scurries forward but Francis stuns him with a right, bending down to grab Fugue around the waist and then haul him upwards and backwards. Fugue turns completely over and lands on his back, Francis bridging over him. The Franchise holds the bridge for a moment before releasing and retreating to regard his 'opponent'.

 

"If that's REALLY what you want, Tony," Francis snaps. Fugue gets to his feet, still moving quickly, and he grins eagerly.

 

"That's it exactly," he replies. "But you can do better than THAT, can't you?" The musician charges forward again, fist flashing in a quick jab. Francis staggers as the breath gets knocked out of him, then feels Fugue's arms locking around his waist. Recognizing the setup Francis quickly elbows Fugue in the back of his neck, breaking the hold. Fugue staggers and seems to fall, but sweeps his leg around to hit Francis'. The Franchise stumbles and almost goes down, but recovers himself and quickly bends down to pick Fugue up bodily. Positioning the smaller man on his shoulders, Francis jumps to the side--and sends Fugue crashing to the mat.

 

Rolling away from the other man, Francis stares in shock. He had just performed a Death Valley Bomb on his stablemate--his friend? But it had almost seemed like Fugue--Tony, had--Francis' thoughts are interrupted as Fugue sits up. He aims a grin at the Franchise. "Hey, I almost felt that one," he croaks, pushing himself slowly to his feet.

 

"Tony, I--" Francis gets to his feet as well, unsure of what to say. The musician aims a rictus grin up at him, swaying just slightly.

 

"Not bad," Fugue coughs. "But is it good enough? Huh?" Francis fights the sudden urge to look away, and glares down at Fugue. "With stuff like that, it's no wonder you're HELD DOWN!" His hand flies up in a stinging slap.

 

A sudden burst of rage fills Francis. Ignoring the glancing blow, he rears back and slaps Fugue in return. Grabbing the reeling musician, Francis hooks one leg and hoists him high into the air--a moment of doubt and confusion sparks through the rage but Francis' body is already twisting in that familiar way, pulling Fugue down to slam hard onto his shoulders.

 

Then Francis pulls away--staring at what he's done. "To--Tony? Hey!" He shakes Fugue gently, and the musician's eyes fly open.

 

"W--w--one...two...three." Fugue coughs. "Y-yeah. That's a, match ender..."

 

Francis helps Fugue to a sitting position. "God, Tony, I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I really--"

 

"Hey. HEY!" Fugue shakes his head. "I, I get beat up twice a week. Get a paycheck for it too." Fugue grins dazedly.

 

"Okay. Yeah...yeah, you're right," Francis says, getting a grip on himself. "But still, I'll go get--" He starts to stand, but is stopped by Fugue's grip on his shoulder.

 

"Before you go..." Fugue blinks and stares at Francis' face. "You know what you had there? Huh? Killer instinct. Right?"

 

A frown creases Francis' face. "Killer instinct," he says slowly. "I remember Tyler, saying..."

 

"Yeah. You can stand up to me, you can stand up to anyone." Fugue grins, and Francis has to smile too. Then he stands.

 

"I'll go get someone to help get you to the hotel," the Franchise says, coolness back in place.

 

"Yeah, thanks." Fugue listens to Francis leave, hurried steps fading into the distance. Then he flops onto his back.

 

Then, after a moment, he begins to laugh softly.

 

"So *that's* what that feels like..."

[Guest ScorpionDanceofDeath]

Very nice promo. I enjoyed the interaction between the sWo in a chance encounter, or was it a planned training session? Who needs CIA when you can let the enemy beat themselves up?

[Guest Drew_K]

*sniff* But doesn't EVERYBODY need CIA...... sometiiiiimes?

[Guest kelloggs]

Nobody needs CIA ...but Fugue is the promo guy...nice stuff as I was honored just to post it.