PROMO: Past, Present and Future

[Guest Listen2Reason]

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There was a knock at the door.

 

Edwin sighed, put down his controller, turned away from the Magical Drop III title screen and folded his arms professionally on his desk. "Enter," he called imperiously.

 

A small man opened the door and stepped in. At least, small compared to all the giants wandering around the various Smarks leagues...This man, however, wore a belt that showed he had earned the right to be here. Straggly hair swung as he closed the door, turning to reveal a cartoonish image of a circus tent on his shirt.

 

Fugue grinned. "Afternoon, boss."

 

Edwin rolled his eyes. "NOW what?"

 

"I'm here for my appointment," Fugue replied.

 

After a moment, Edwin blinked. "What? Appointment?"

 

"Isn't it in your schedule?" The musician pointed at the desk. Edwin looked down and noticed an entry in the planner reading: '3:15PM-3:30PM: Be ranted at by Fugue'. "So, since I--"

 

"Wait, just a sec." Edwin grabbed a Sticky-Note pad and wrote, 'Note to self - Fire secretary' on it. He pulled the note off and stuck it onto a large stuffed panda. Then he looked back at Fugue. "Okay, go ahead."

 

Fugue grinned. Again. "Basically I just wanted to stop in and say hi, y'know."

 

Edwin nodded. Then he stared. "Wait, that's IT?"

 

"Well...yeah. I mean, everyone else was doing it, so I thought I should too." Fugue shrugged.

 

Edwin sighed and leaned back in his chair, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Okay, fine. WHATever. Be along your merry way, then." He made a shooing motion with one hand.

 

"Sure." Fugue turned, then stopped. "Oh...there was just *one* other thing..."

 

"Yes, Mr. Falk?" Edwin said dryly.

 

Fugue smiled, as always. "What's up with all your little sWo vs. sWo matches?"

 

"...oh, come on, even you can't be THAT stupid," Edwin replied.

 

"Ahaha," Fugue not-quite-laughed. "Pretend I am."

 

Edwin rolled his eyes. "It's traditional, right? Nasty heels gang up on everyone, charismatic commissioner retaliates by making them fight each other. It's all a perennial balance of power and conflict and drama, eh?"

 

"Hmmm." Fugue stroked his chin. "Simple as that?"

 

"Well, yeah. What other reason could there be?" Edwin snorted.

 

"You know, Nietzsche said that that which does not kill us makes us stronger," Fugue commented.

 

"And Trevor Goodchild said it makes us stranger." Edwin frowned for a moment, then peered at the musician. "Are you implying something?"

 

"Nah. I'm just saying..." He leaned over Edwin's desk with a feral grin. "Eventually, we WILL get what we want."

 

Edwin raised an eyebrow. "Did Matt Myers get what he wanted from you?"

 

Fugue was silent for a moment, but his smile never wavered. "I wonder what our Brother Red *really* wants."

 

"Well, don't ask me," Edwin replied. "Incidentally...how's your head?" he asked, smiling cheerfully.

 

"I heal fast." Fugue reached back and rubbed his neck gently. "Pain is just a melody of the mind, after all."

 

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," Edwin replied with as much sincerity as he could scrape together. "You might have to face Mr. Myers again on Crimson, though."

 

"That's very true. Perhaps that's what he wants."

 

Edwin studied the grinning mask of Fugue's face. "And what do *you* want?"

 

Fugue blinked. "I always pictured you as more of a Garibaldi type, boss."

 

"That's not an answer," Edwin countered.

 

"Aha. Sore wa..." Fugue leaned over with a secretive smile.

 

"Sore wa?"

 

"Himitsu desu!"

 

Edwin stared at his desk, then shook his head and grimaced. "Oh, get out of here, you freak!" he snapped at the sWo member. "Your 15 minutes of fame are over!"

 

"Fair enough." Fugue turned...then stopped once again. "Oh, there was *one* more thing..." Edwin opened his mouth, but Fugue rummaged around in his trenchcoat and pulled out--a videotape. "I'd appreciate it if you'd give this a spin," the musician said, placing the tape on the desk. "I'm sure it's not nearly as interesting as the stuff those Clan bigwigs throw around--but it *is* kinda important." Fugue finally turned away. "I'll let myself out," he called back.

 

Edwin focused himself and forced slow, calm breaths as the manic musician left. He could all too easily imagine Fugue deciding to pop in just because all the other sWo members had paid the commissioner a visit...it was just weirdly rookie-ish enough. But there was no use in letting the little punks get under his skin. He picked up the tape and looked at it--already rewound to the beginning, its label read 'For Edwin With Love' in cramped handwriting. Making a sudden decision to just get it over with, Edwin turned and thrust the tape into the waiting orifice of a small VCR/TV combo.

 

A shaky image sprang to life...an arena's back area, concrete walls and floors lit by fluorescent tubes. Two men stood in the hallway, facing the camera. One, the lanky, ragged Fugue...the other taller and heavier, muscles bulging out of his tank top, dreadlocks hanging over a black eyepatch as he grinned at the camera. The X-Rated Badass himself, the Flunkmasta Flexxx.

 

"Heh. You're sure these are the right ones?" Flexxx was studying a sheaf of papers, nearly tearing them from their desperately hanging-on staple as he flipped through.

 

"Oh, yes," Fugue replied. "We had a very...reliable source. See, right there?" He pointed at a spot on the page.

 

Flexxx grunted. "Party of the second part is hereby and without exception suspended without notice, not to appear in any and all matches..." He shook his head, dreads flailing. "Gives me a headache, but it sounds right." Edwin, watching the tape, jumped in surprise, then turned to his desk to search frantically through the paperwork.

 

"So, there you go. You wanna do the honors?" Fugue took the papers, holding them up. He glanced at the camera. "Make sure to get a reaaaal good shot of this." The viewpoint bobbed up and down slightly as Flexxx pulled out a lighter. In moments the flame was applied to a corner, spreading merrily up the page.

 

"Not bad, rookie!" Flexxx boomed, slapping Fugue on the shoulders. The musician's grin became fixed and almost pained.

 

"Uh..." A new voice, close to the mike, which Edwin recognized as belonging to Ben Hardy. "What exactly is that, guys?"

 

"This?" Fugue replied. "This is his future." He jerked his head at the Flunkmasta, and the sWo members shared a laugh...

 

...then Flexx blinked as the flame engulfed the entire paper. "Uh, you okay there, man?"

 

"The trick is not to mind it," Fugue replied.

 

The screen filled with static.

 

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[Guest realitycheck]

Whoa. That was fucking awesome. A great handle on the characters, a nice insight on Fugue, as dialouge-driven promos always provide, and an all together entertaining read. I'm thinking it's a bit of subtle forshadowing, along with the important end explaining why Flexxx is now unsuspended. All together excellent.

 

BUT...!

 

I'm going to have to thumbs down the whole thing based on this line...

"Aha. Sore wa..." Fugue leaned over with a secretive smile.

 

"Sore wa?"

 

"Himitsu desu!"

I had a girlfriend who was a Slayers fangirl, and she would repeat that line to me incessantly. Horrible... memories returning... I h8 j00, Fugue! H8 J00!!11!1

 

-Z

[Guest Ace309]

Damn impressive, Fugue. From the day you posted your stats, I've liked your writing.

[Guest Listen2Reason]

ph34r my l33t xell0ss skillz!!1!

 

...anyway, thanks for the comments, guys. I had this promo half-written already, and then I was asked to do a promo with about burning Flexxx' suspension papers...which serendipitously gave the promo an actual purpose rather than just ranting.

[Guest HollywoodSpikeJenkins]

I am still so proud to be in your sig.

 

*sniffle sniffle*

 

sWo = Owns You All

[Guest kelloggs]

Lookie all sWo members have a board promo up for this show. Me you ask? I'm lazy and stuff so I might get one...or even two up eventually.

 

Fugue writes another top notch promo but since Tom is impressed with you and stuff I must end this love fest. I give it 4 outta 5 *. HAH!