HD: Something from DA NEW GUYZ~!

[Zack Malibu 0]

This is something that both The Admiral and Highland from The Pit have done for the show.

 

 

 

 

Moments before the music hits, the arena lights darken and the spotlights focus on the entrance. Phillip Remington is lifted to the top of the platform near the entrance during the intro of the song (O Fortuna velut luna statu variabilis) and he walks leisurely towards the ring during the prechorus. He stands in the middle of the ring, head slightly bowed, hands crossed over is waist then slowly rises them in a triumphant arc while the chorus plays and a barrage of pyro goes off. Remington adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way down to the ring, refusing to even acknowledge the crowd. He ascends the steps with perfect posture and steps through the ropes, only now deigning to look to the assembled people around the ring. He turns and motions to the announcer for his microphone.

 

Lights dim as the opening of "Rock Star, Jason Nevin remix" begins. The lights switch to an alternating strobe pattern as Thunder steps through the curtain and stops to survey the arena. He hops on the balls of his feet, throws some quick punches, mic in hand, and runs his way down the ring. Thunder slides in, rolls to his feet and sports a goofy grin as the music fades.

 

Then he turns and looks at the other man in the ring. He looks absolutely confused. "I... um... thought this was my time. Could you, y'know, maybe leave while I do my thing, y'know? I've got a..." Thunder pats at his tights. "Oh, right, I don't have any pockets. Well, I'm going to make this up as I go because I can't memorize the script."

 

PR, standing there in the ring, looks at Thunder with an expression of disgust and disbelief. He reaches over the ropes, signaling for a mic then turns to face him, "Get the hell out," while waving his hand dismissively.

 

Thunder tilts his head to the side. "Now, them ain't kosherized rules. You could at least say please or maybe give me a Pepsi or something." Johnny walks a circle around him. "I mean, really? Seriously? YOU want ME to leave?" PR keeps his eyes on him as Thunder walks around him. He relaxes and gives him a winning smile, "You're right, it was awfully uncouth of me. I find that it always pays to use good manners and sportsmanship. Put her there!" he says, offering his hand for a shake.

 

Thunder breaks out a big grin. "Hey, now that sounds like a good idea. Put 'er there, fella." Thunder grabs the man's hand and shakes vigorously, up and down frantically like a hyperactive child.

 

PR reacts with a brief expression of surprise and concern cross his features which he quickly hides, replacing it with a grin of his own during the handshake. His free hand behind his back, he tightens his grip on the mic and walloping him on the head with it. Looming over him he says, "That's what happens to those who interfere with my business!"

PR stands over Thunder's prone form, He leans forward to get in his face, "This is my house, do you understand you repugnant wretch? What in the world made you think you were even worthy of being in my presence, let alone in this ring?”

 

Thunder pulls himself to the ropes, his legs wobbly and his eyes with that far-away, goofy expression in contrast with the blank, goofy expression he showed up with. He manages to get to a wobbly, but still vertical, base. PR glares at him, his hand shaking around the microphone when Johnny leaps into the air and backflips to strike PR over the head with a Pele kick.

 

PR had just tossed his mic away and turned away from Thunder after his rant. He hears Thunder getting up and turns to face him, right into the arc of that kick. It misses him, but he falls and scrambles cowardly away over the ropes and onto the floor, turning to face him, pointing at him and talking shit, pointing at him but also backing away from the ring, trying to save face as he leaves.