LogFAQs > #928231912

(Ah I see. Understandable ^_^')

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"A fine morning, cowards and corpses!"

The static fades, and the camera pulls out from the TV for a wide shot of the room from the last 'vignette' of sorts. It's better decorated, a wall of flatscreen and CRT televisions turning off and on in patterns, some sort of biomechanical forest swaying in a nonexistent breeze, various electronics and flora interspersed throughout the area, and then the sways over to the left, and to a waving android, and a group of shadows standing behind them.

"Well, well, well! We have almost made it to the first ever PLAAYMania, with only two people being unable to compete at all, and only one having to do so while badly injured." The android leans back in his chair/throne, and nonchalantly opens a nearby.... mini...fridge. ....Right. They reach in and pull out a ice-cold bottle of Mr. Pibb. "It probably says a lot that the number is better than we expected, even with one of the missing being one of the scariest people in the company." He glances at the bottle, opens it, taking a sip through the gas mask *somehow*.

"Big event, really. Every title on the line, a rivalry from a promotion that has lingered long after the richly deserved death of the group it originated in. A man of dark secrets defending his title from a man with no morals, the biggest title in the company being defended against a man with a beard that did *nothing* in the match that earned him his shot, against one of the biggest names in wrestling history, a walking legend, who is also one of the weirdest men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. We also have a battle royale that will hopefully honouring the legacy of the greatest all-around veteran of over 50 years, Mr. Harley Race, because if it *doesn't*, everyone involve will have to answer to us for their incompetence and insolence."

They lean forward, mask's... eyes... gleaming? "However, those are not the reasons we are here today, are they?" They stand, fist curling, head turned to the side. "Noooooo, no no. We are here to discuss a very... personal... matter, and a comparatively minor matter of prestige... and a match with one of the most frightening beings in this entire multiverse." They look back at the camera, and... despite the mask obscuring any facial features, the lower half flashes... sharp, pointy teeth, very much like a shark's, as they begin pacing. "Miss Bangladesh DuPree, sky pirate, psychopath, truely beautiful person, one of the reasons the UCA title actually has some prestige now, a truly formidable hand-to-hand fighter... and someone I have been wanting to have a match with for a long, long time, but have never had to opportunity to do so before this upcoming night."

They pause, shiver. "...I just wish you hadn't made it... personal, Miss DuPree. Always thought it'd be a fun match against an amazing brawler and hardcore badass, and we could do some amazing things in the ring together." The gas mask's 'eyes' fade to dark. "...Then... you... did what you did. I do not mind the sneak attack and beating, I'm honestly impressed ya pulled that off, and at your planning." The mask darkens further. "...I speak of your destruction of my mentor's phylactery, and of my former body's method of returning to this plane of existence. ...Granted, considering where that meatsack's apparently found himself-"

(TVs turn on, CPU runs by with his arms in the air screaming- "WHY ARE THERE SNOW TROLLS IN RIVERWOOD-")

The android pauses. And both they and the shadows behind them slap their faces in unison.

(Continued in next post)
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"Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you." Night Vale Radio