Pyro shoots up from the stage, screeching loudly before falling back down and exploding, followed by a grungy rock track playing. Two men draped in camo walk out. A well-built Caucasian with a bandana and a ginger beard, and a shorter, leaner, brown-skinned luchador with a camo mask and blonde mohawk.
They walk down together, slapping hands with fans on either side.
SDS: On the topic of tag teams...
David Bekker: The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Making their way to the ring, at a combined weight of 196 kilos, Major Mallory, El Soldado, the Battalion Bros!
DS: You know, Darryl. I had brothers, cousins and uncles in the Brazilian Armed Forces, I'm talking Navy, Army, Air Force, Police, Firefighters, everything. I cannot stand stolen valour.
SDS: Stolen valour? Devin Mallory was a Major in the United States Marine Corps. His credentials are legitimate.
DS: I'm not talking about Mallory! I'm talking about that bobagem next to him. "El Soldado"? "The Soldier"? Seriously?
SDS: He has credentials, too!
DS: What branch? What missions?
SDS: It's classified.
DS: Right.
SDS: Plus, he's a luchador, so I wouldn't be able to say even I knew. I did hear something about the Space Force, though.
DS (scoffs): "Space force." Sometimes, I think you're from outer space.
SDS: ... Ok.
Unknown Woman (whispering via speakers): Tom... Dick... and Harry....
These names appear in order on both of the big screens, and suddenly, loud rock 'n roll music plays with some of the worst vocalisations ever uttered by human mouths. Several fans cover their ears, booing and hissing. Some kids in the crowd, well into their mid-teens, are crying. Mallory visibly cringes, while Soldado shakes his head as if to block out the sound. Even the referee, Dan Masters, loses his composure. It's just so horrible.
SDS: My God! WHAT IS THIS NOISE?!
DS: GAAAAAAH, DARRYL! IT'S LIKE I'VE BEEN POISONED! I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BLOOD! MY ANCESTORS ARE CRYING!
SDS: THEY'RE NOT THE ONLY ONES!
Three men walk out, playing phantom instruments and all wearing chaps and tassels. Harry is the man in the middle, of below-average height with spiky blonde hair and thin black sunglasses, playing an air guitar. Tom is on the left, a bit taller in gothic makeup with long black hair, big top hat and rounded sunglasses, playing an air key-tar with kissy lips. Dick is on the right, big and bald with a long blonde goatee dyed red at the tip and tattoos on his arms, playing air drums.
David Bekker (wearing earplugs): And the opponents, accompanied to the ring by Harry Hendrix, representing Tom, Dick and Harry, from London, England, at a combined weight of 227 Kilos, Tom Presley and Dick Jagger!
The three "rockstars" stop their "concert", looking upset as they march to the ring. The music ceases.
SDS: HVALA TI, SLATKA DJEVICE!
DS: OBRIGADA, SANTA MARIA!
Harry gets in first and immediately snatches the mic out of Bekker's hand.
Harry: Oi, where'd they fish you out from, eh?
Bekker looks confused: What?
Harry: I said– Get them bleedin' things outta yer lug'oles!
DS: What did he say?
SDS: Don't ask me. English is my 3rd language.
Bekker blinks. Tom points at his own ears.
Bekker (pulling out the earplugs): Sorry, what?
Harry: I says, where in the bleedin' dog's dinner did they pick you up from?!
SDS: What's this about?
Harry: What kinda bleedin' feeble intro was that, eh?
Dick and Tom surround him, nodding. Bekker looks between the three with confusion and some fear.
Harry: Is that how you introduce the three biggest stars in the whole shebang? Not just the wrestling biz, but the music biz?
DS: I hate modern music.
SDS: Same.
Harry: Three geezers wot's dined wiv Dons, carolled for Kings, and popped the cherry of a Princess or two!
SDS: What?!
DS: Hold on. Hold on. He's starting to make some good points here.
Stroligo smacks him.
DS: Ow!
Harry (jamming his finger in Bekker's chest): Next time our intro's a load o' old cobblers, yer backside's for it, mate. Now, scarper!
SDS: What on Earth is he saying?
Bekker just nods and reaches for his mic.
Harry: Oh no! You're not getting this back.
Bekker: But-
Harry (points at him): Shut yer yap (points to ringside) an' park yer fat crack!
Dick damn near shoves the announcer out of the ring. The crowd boos, no longer due to the awful music, but due to them being jerks.
Mallory and Soldado on the other end, grow increasingly annoyed.
Harry stands in the centre with his "bandmates" next to him, chuckling: Now, lads, was I the only one 'earin' that load of rubbish Axel Wallace was spoutin' just now?
Dick and Tom laugh. The latter asks for the mic.
Tom: He's always been a bleedin' politician. That's a fact, guv'nor.
Dick (takes it): Yeah, if anyone's got a Scooby about doin' a song and dance, it's us. Just not about losin'!
The three of them laugh. Crowd boos again. Mallory starts pacing.
Harry: But d'ya know what? Sunday was a right knees-up, it was. One, 'cause we got to have a butcher's at them Wallaces gettin' treated like the wannabes they are...
The boos get louder.
SDS: They won those Tag Team titles fair and square at the Super Fight!
Harry: ''.. and two, Jeffers Campbell 'ad a right two and eight when 'e realised the howler 'e made draftin' us behind the Wallaces, but more importantly (turns and points at the Battalion Bros) behind these two camo-wearin' clowns!''
Soldado gets pissed and approaches. The near 2-metre, 140-kilo Dick blocks his path. Masters and Mallory push Soldado back.
SDS: That's right. Mallory and Soldado were drafted together as the Fight Pit's 13th picks, making them 26th overall. Tom, Dick and harry were the 14th pick, making them the 28th.
The referee then turns to the rockstars.
Masters: We're on schedule here. Can you wrap it up?
Harry: Nah, mate. Had a vasectomy, I did.
Masters stands slackjawed.
SDS: W-What?
Harry: Now, be a good stripey and stand over there, you.
DS: I may not like his music, but I like his style.
Harry: And as for you (points at Mallory and Soldado), and all you mugs 'ere, and every geezer glued to the telly at 'ome, better pay attention. Tonight's the start of us takin' over the Fight Pit. Starting wiv the tag division (turns away), because-
Mallory (with his own mic): Enough already!
The crowd pops in relief. Harry spins around in annoyance.
SDS: About damn time.
Mallory: If you're done making everyone's ears bleed, we'd like to get to work now.
Another pop.
Mallory: Because if anyone is going to be picking up the Wallaces' slack, it's going to be us!
Crowd: OOH!
SDS: An emphatic statement from the Major!
Harry gets in Mallory's face -as much as one can when there's a 15-centimetre height difference- and takes off his sunglasses.
Harry: Now, you listen 'ere, bruv. If you ever try to rabbit on while I'm talkin' again (holds up his fist), I'll give you a right Barney, yeah?
DS: Seriously, what the hell is he saying?
SDS: I... think he said he's going to punch him in the- OH, Mallory with a HARD right hand to the nose of Hendrix! And now a brawl has broken out. Mallory and Jagger! Soldado and Presley! Masters trying to regain order!
DS: Haha! Darryl, the bell hasn't even rung yet, and these guys are already laying into each other. I LOVE the Fight Pit!
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