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"All ready for the grand unveiling?" Armando Gomez asked, easing his 7'4" frame into the specially-strengthened sofa.
"Sure am," replied the Lord-Protector gleefully, pulling the ring top of a can of beer, "a new mastery of propaganda, Armand?"
"I hope so, Ty," Armando said, being more informal with the nation's leader than any man presently alive, "I even got Ric to fill in some of the details."
"Does that count as Government aid?" Tiberius smiled at Armando after the mention of his half-brother, Ricardo Gomez, the Minister for Communications. Armando "The Annihilator" cracked open a beer of his own, dwarfing it in his mighty hands.
"Shut up and watch, you" he smirked.
Their attention turned to the super-size TV screen on the wall. The SCB:Sports logo was faded subtly in the top-right corner.
'SWA:Target may contain scenes and storylines unsuitable for younger viewers. Please take parental responsibility for the young.'
The logo of the Starblaydi Wrestling Alliance breifly flashes up on screen before fading into darkness. Suddenly a spotlight shines down, illuminating part of what appears to be a wrestling ring. A powerful drum beat kicks in and more spotlights are turned on, bathing the ring in light. Coloured lights are added, the camera swinging around the arena to the sound of heavy guitar chords. Finally the entire arena in completely lit as the tune plays its catchy chorus for a second time.
A non-descript wrestle, grayed out and blurred, steps into the ring, swinging his leg inbetween the middle and top ropes. The camera pans up and around the ring as a 'perfect' opponent is generated from templates of wrestlers of all shapes and sizes. Like a computer game selecting a character, options are shown but as quick as a flashthe character is changed. The cruiserweight, the Monster-sized, the woman, the average-sized man, the fat guy, the slim high-flyer, the dwarf. Long hair, short hair, no hair, the selection is almost too quick to follow until the 'perfect' opponent is selected, matching the non-descript opponent in size and shape. We zoom into his eyes as the music rises to a creschendo. His pupils glow red and with a sudden rush we are propelled into his eye. With a flash of light a crosshair appears on the screen with the word 'Target' displayed, followed by a blinking square.
"What do you think of the new opening?" Armando asked Tiberius, his eyes firmly fixed on the screen.
"It's good." he said after a moments thought. "The'Target' thing is a little obvious but I like the character selection thing, nice graphics. The music'll probably grow on me, but I liked the old tune better."
'We welcome you, live, to the new-look Tuesday Night Target!'
The camera flies across a packed arena. Thousands of fans stand up and cheer, waving their signs, as a pyrotechnic and laser display kicks off proceedings.
'Hello everyone, I'm Bob , beside me is Marco Haze and we are your commentary team, here on Target. Tonight we have, in action for you:'
Portraits of the superstars are flashed up on the screen as the match previews are shown.
'Jazzman Jim versus Judge Reinier.
'The SWA Championship Belt is on the line as Havoc steps up to defend his title against The Djinn.
'Plus, a special new unvieling of the latest addition to the SWA roster.
'But first, it's our Tag Team champions in action.'
The arena is filled with the sounds of a Druidan male voice choir as the champs emerge from backstage. The ring announcer introduces them as they lap up the cheers, but mostly boos and shouts of 'Star-blade-ya!"
'Weighing in at a combined weight of thirty-four stone eight pounds, from Llllllllcwllllll, Druida, they are the Starblaydi Tag-Team Champions, Trevor and Trefor!"
"Who came up with these two?" Tiberius asked in between swigs of beer, "Druidan twins? It's brilliant, a stroke of genius."
***** Later in the show *****
"Here it comes," Armando said, pointing at the screen.
Jazzman Jim was carrying his victorious and not-undersized bulk down the aisle to the back stage. The camera cuts to somewhere in the back, in a white-painted corridor with a soft blue carpet. In front of a soft drink vending machine is a man, obviously a wrestler, wearing a large black jacket, carrying a large equipment bag and staring intently at the machine.
He pulls out his wallet, a massive piece of leather stuffed to bursting with rushana bills. He does some mental arithmetic.
'A hundred Rushanas?' he says to himself, 'that's really cheap!' He looks at the coin slot. 'Aww they don't take Lamonian currency.'
Striding down the corridor comes the SWA Champion, Havoc, prompting a cheer from the arena crowd as they watch on the big screen. He is wearing a smart custom-made suit to fit his body, long blond hair brushed behind his ears. The Championship belt, a massive piece of gold-plated leather, hands over his shoulder.
'Hey, buddy,' the man says, stopping the Champ in his tracks, 'can you lend me fifty pence for a drink?'
Havoc stares intently down the corridor, then casts his trademark glare onto the newcomer, prompting another cheer. Off-camera, he takes a coin from his pocket and tosses it into the air. The man catches it in mid-air as the Champ storms off, his good deed for the day done. The man looks at the coin and bites it.
'Hard currency.' he says, pocketing the coin, 'So thats what it looks like.'
***** Later Parts of the show to follow *****
(OOC: Don't mind me, just a little bit of Starblaydi cultural background for y'all. Little bit of entertainment, little bit of propaganda. If you have any ideas, comments, suggestions or wrestlers to join, feel free) |
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(OOC: Should have got the drink out of the machine and smashed it over his head. Now that's entertainment, more to the liking of Abattorian depravity.) |
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***** Even Later in the show *****
'The following contest is scheduled for one fall' the ring announcer says, 'making his in-ring debut, weighing in at seventeen stone, three pounds, from Nephi, Lamoni, Hanns Schmidt!
A Lamonian flag appears from behind the curtain, shortly followed by the hand of the man carrying it. Hanns Schmidt steps into the limelight and proudly waves his flag alot, red and blue unfurled as a patriotic anthem accompanies his entrance.
He walks down the aisle and smiles broadly, lapping up the cheering and applause he seems to assume that he's receiving. In reality, however, the heat coming from the crowd is quite negative.
'Star-blade-ya!
Star-blade-ya!
Star-blade-ya!'
"I promised you 'Patriotic Heat', didn't I?" Armando said, turning to his leader.
"So patriotic and yet, somehow," Tiberius paused for dramatic effect, "inspired."
"You haven't seen the best of it yet," Armando promised.
Hanns clambered into the ring and waved his flag some more, standing on the turnbuckles to proclaim his nationality. As his music faded out, he demanded a mic from outside the ring, which was duly handed to him.
'Thankyou, true fans, he says, 'for that glorious welcome to Starblaydi soil.'
'What?' shout some fans. Hanns ignores them.
'I am privileged,' he begins.
'What?' they cry.
'to be in the nation,'
'What?'
'ruled so expertly,'
'What?'
'by Tiburon Starblaydia.'
'What?' chant the fans. Others simply boo at the misnomenclature of their leader. 'Star-blade-ya!' chants begin again.
"Now that was a nice touch," Tiberius said, putting down his empty beer can and reaching for another, passing one to Armando while he was at it.
"Our scriptwriters know their jobs," Armando said, "and this guy's good. As a heel, of course."
"Of course," Tiberius nodded, "we can't go around having Lamonian good-guys on our screens, now can we?"
Hanns continues to play games with the audience, digging himself ever-deeper into a cultural hole. Suddenly he is interrupted by an opening guitar riff that everyone recognises booming across the arena.
'And his opponent, the announcer cuts in as Hanns leaps out of the ring, weighing in at fifteen-stone eight pounds, from Najajara kali, Rejistania, the Master of the System, Kali Illidra!"
The crowd go absolutely mental as one of their favourite wrestlers sprints down to the ring, high-fiving the fans in the aisle seats as he goes. Little Kali Illidra leaps into the ring to whip up the crowd yet further.
***** During the Match *****
"This is a good match," Tiberius said, "this Schmidt guy isn't bad."
"Yeah," Armando vaguely agreed, "but Kali is making him look better."
"Ut-oh," Tiberius interrupted, "here comes System Illidra!"
With the referee unconcious in one corner, a dazed Hanns Schmidt is slumped in another corner, up against the turnbuckles. With a run-up, Kali Illidra springboards off the middle rope, ready to lock his ankles around Schmidt's neck and catapult him into the centre of the ring.
But no, Schmidt had grabbed his flag pole and managed to strike Illidra in mid air, sending the Rejistanian crashing to the mat! The crowd's boos stir the referee from his prone position, and Schmidt manages to pin Illidra.
'No! Not like this, dammit! Hanns Schmidt has cheated his way to a debut win with the One... Two... Three... Oh my, this is a travesty of justice by the man from Lamoni!
The boos ring out yet further as the Lamoni's anthem plays and Schmidt parades around the ring in triumph.
"Nifty," Tiberius said, "very nifty."
"I'm glad you're pleased." Armando replied, as they got ready for the next match for the Starblaydi Championship title. |
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