The Great MUTA vs Hawk Boy

[The Great Muta (T)]

“ONE LAST DRAG”

DHWA’s first Pay-Per-View entitled Dawn of Disorder returns from a quick commercial break promoting the next upcoming Pay-Per-View, reminded the DHWA fans to buy tickets and to make sure to order the live broadcast once it comes around. Once we return, we are greeted with an empty, black screen with the words “somewhere in Japan” written at the lower part of the screen in a while, Times New Roman-esque font. The pitter-patter of rain is heard through the darkness as it recedes, showing a single, burning, out of focus flame dancing wildly to the rambling thunder in the distance.

The fuzzy screen refocuses on the flame, giving us a clearer picture now. The dry area where the flame burns is dark and relatively empty, but most of the area is cloaked in the choking black of night. The flame stretches it’s flailing arms up through a black iron goblet that rests on a long black rod, driven in through the unseen floor. The camera pans out a little more, the flame saying mainly in the same spot and size it’s been since it’s burned it’s way through the package, but now we see the illuminated, smiling face of Slick.

Slick is dressed in an expensive, tan-coloured suit with a brown tie tucked on the inside of the double breasted jacket that sits atop a white dress shirt. Slick’s round head is partly covered with a brown fedora, similar to the shade of his tie.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
This is where it all ends, my brotha. Here, Dawn of Disorder, the first Pay-Per-View that the DHWA has produced. I told all you marks and fans from the get-go that my man, The Great Muta, is the man who will make it to that final match and he has! Like the Slickster says: honesty is the best policy; hell, the sensei of style is the most honest one of them all ‘cause it’s as true as the sea is deep, the Slickster does nothing but tell the truth, heh heh heh.

Slick’s white, toothy smile looms over his rolled-in bottom lip as he chuckles over the crackling of the flame. An unseen mass is behind Slick, but it’s hard to justify what it actually is. Only a small outline of a deep pink-red color is visible behind the manager of The Great Muta.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Y’see, the Slickster and his soon to be DHWA Smoking Skull Champion, The Great Muta, have commuted to Japan and what you are seeing right now is nothing less than a pre-recorded message from the land of the rising sun. Dawn of Disorder is arguably the most important night in DHWA’s history. This Sunday night will be night when we find out once and for all who has the intestinal fortitude and the absolute drive to carry around the moniker of DHWA’s flagship Champion. Who will walk out of the twisted mess of barbed wire, razor boards and other foreign objects with the covenant title around his waist? Will it in fact be the pearl of the Orient and the DHWA, The Great Muta or will it be the third-generation superstar which lies in Hawk Boy?

Slick softly snickers before continuing, rustling something around in his unseen pants pocket.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Hawk Boy, I want to start by saying that a lot more is on the line than being the golden boy of the DHWA.. Your career will be in the hands of the pearl of the Orient, The Great Muta. He has the god given ability destroy every part of your body if he wishes. You see, this Sunday, you don’t step in the DHWA’s wrestling ring like you have for the last few weeks, my brotha, YOU, young Hawk Boy shall not only step into the Great Muta’s ring, but in the Great Muta’s playground as well. Heh. Stone Cold Steve Austin has made the first good decision here in his company since approving the contract I had hand signed for my investment by accepting his request to have the soon-to-be most prestigious world title in the industry be defended between exploding barbed wire ropes. But, one thing The Great Muta mentioned to me while talking over his decision… His true reasoning behind choosing such a match for you and him to do battle in... He told me, in his own words, that he made the match for you. The saying holds true, HB… A cornered animal is a dangerous animal. It’s when he’s the most unpredictable. In this situation, Hawk Boy, you are the scraggly little mouse while The Great Muta is the big, bad HAWK who wants to tear you apart for supper. The Great Muta wants to bring the best out in you in your match, he wants to make you think outside of the box, to bring you’re A-game and the unpredictability and viciousness that the old saying entails. But, ha, don’t get your hopes up.. The Great Muta simply wants to be entertained while he decimates you in the ring.

Slick pops a slender, hand rolled cigarette into his mouth, sheltering it with his dark hand, lighting it with a thin match, waving it in the dark, putting the fire out into a ball of black, dissipating smoke. Slick looks back into the camera, removing the cigarette from his thick lips, blowing a mouthful of smoke into the darkness.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
It’s not like it’s not going to happen.. Right? I mean, The Great Muta has beaten everyone ol’ Stone Cold had put in his way.. What makes you any different? Diego Cortez, Derick Moris, Dude McSweetpants, The Rock… What, Hawk Boy, separates you from the rest? Hmm? What makes you think that you have the slightest chance of stepping into that ring and actually surviving the raw brutality that such a match has to offer, walking out with the strap? My man, The Great Muta is stepping into that ring with a name on his mind. His fallen brother, his running mate, The King of Old School, Steve Corino, the man YOU took out to get to this match. The Great Muta and Steve Corino, or as they call themselves, the best of both worlds, have taken the DHWA and Friday Night Massacre by storm, taking on any and all comers. The Great Muta will step into that ring to avenge the loss of Steve Corino, making you wish that you’d laid down and taken the pinfall like any good worker should do. You’re simply just another name in the book and another few hundred-thousand dollars in my pocket.

Slick smiles a toothy grin, sliding the cigarette back into his mouth, closing his eyes and sucking back on it making the exposed end glow bright red. He takes it out from his mouth, blowing another fanfare of smoke into the air.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
If you’re wondering; I don’t smoke at all. Ever. I quit that dirt years ago, but I honestly think it has a great amount of symbolism, so I like to use it a lot to prove my point. You light that sucker up and suck it back, making it wither and rot into nothing but ashes and embers, staining your lungs with every puff… Guys like you, Hawk Boy, you are this cigarette. You see, it doesn’t take long to smoke a cigarette at all. Just a few minutes and it’s gone. It’s time is over till you pull the next one out of the pack and repeat the process. Guys like you, brotha, you are what I, and the business, would consider you as “disposable”. The promoter lights a fire under your ass and it sends you to the moon for those short, five minutes of fame, burning up in the light of the largest star in the universe, the sun, baby, fading into nothing, just to be swept into the pile of ashes that were once guys JUST like you, only to be forgotten about till you need a new one and another cigarette, ie the next disposable talent like you, only to repeat the same process over again. Hawk Boy, your kind comes a dime a dozen, honestly. You’re disposable and WILL be disposed of like the rest who’ve come before you since the days of “Nature Boy” Buddy Rogers! The largest and brightest star in the universe, The Great Muta, the pearl of the Orient, my money, money man will be the one who will take that one last draw, sucking the last bit of life out of your crumbling body, tossing and grinding you into the cold, wet pavement with his foot, only to light up another mark like you like he has, week in and week out.

Slick takes one last inhale, tossing the cigarette into the ground, crushing it into the ground, blowing smoke out between his lips and through his nose. A light layer of perspiration clings to his face from the heat of the cigarette. He brushes his thin moustache before speaking once again.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
The Great Muta and I will be in Kentucky very soon and The Great Muta and I will be bringing a surprise of all the marks in the crowd, at home and in the back with us. But that’s later, heh. The Great Muta and I, as this is being recorded, are in Japan, but for good reason. That reason, my brotha, is drawing every bit of your inner self and bringing it to the outside to use it physically unto your opponent, putting him into the ground like the rotting corpse he is destined to be. Hawk Boy, the third-generation superstar, the BOY who was born into riches with a silver spoon in his mouth from the day he shot out of his momma’s thang, handed a ticket into this business because of who his genetics are associated with. You’re no different than The Rock, who much like you will be at Dawn of Disorder, was driven into the mat time and time again, only to have his shoulders pinned against the mat for the one, the two and the three. You had the easy way in to the business, you HAD everything from the day you were wearin’ diapers. The Great Muta is a second-generation superstar who didn’t have the luxuries you had you snivelling little brat, he has to pack his bags time and time again to come to the United States to make a name for himself HERE simultaneously with making a name for himself in his home country of Japan… Here, on this land… This is where it begins, this is the culture shock for me and The Great Muta as a whole, cohesive unit going forward. You may have your money and you may have your name and you may have your family but the one thing you don’t have is RESPECT…

The huddled mass behind Slick moves, slowly turning. An Oni-styled traditional kabuki mask faces the camera, bearing a wide toothy grin with large eyes and horns. A long red wig sits over the mask, concealing some of the mask and the shoulders of the being. The mask is almost flesh-toned, morphing with the color of the exposed neck of the man behind the mask and red wig. He wears a red and black kimono, tilting his head back and forth, cracking his neck.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Respect… Respect for this business and respect for his roots. You see, guys like you are selfish, ungrateful and conceited. You take everything for granted. You have no respect for the hard work of those who came before you, including your father and your grandfather. You don’t appreciate anything anyone has done for you and because of that, you will be brought down like alllll the rest. The Great Muta respects this business and respects the hard work and dedication that has brought him to the point he is at today, and because of this, The Great Muta will be paying tribute to one of the men who has contributed to his success.. His FATHER, The Great Kabuki.

The character behind the sensei of style is now obviously The Great Muta, donning Kabuki-inspired entrance gear for his match with Hawk Boy at Dawn of Disorder. Slick smiles slightly with a chuckle.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
The Great Kabuki, one of the greatest trend-setters in the business. The innovator of the Asian mist, one of the greatest Japanese legends of all time managed by the immortal Gary Hart. The Great Muta has visited his father, The Great Kabuki and his father has put his best wishes unto his son, wishing for a prosperous future for his son, giving him his blessing and his best wishes, giving his son the honor of bringing his spirit to the ring with him to cast the shining wizard down on you in a heaping mound of human waste.

Slick chuckles.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
The Japanese warriors used to practice a ritual called Seppuku. Seppuku is the idea that instead of dying at the hands of their opponent, they would take the honourable way out, humbling themselves by jabbing a short blade into their stomach, slicing it across their abdomen in a horizontal motion, killing themselves. That short blade is in your hands now, Hawk Boy. Your destiny is in your hands right now, but the moment that you step into that ring, your destiny is in the hands of The Great Muta. You haven’t got much time left so make the wise decision. Submit to the Great Muta, perform Seppuku and humble yourself for the first time in your life. It’s like they say, it’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees. You can either go out by your own terms or go out by The Great Muta’s. It’s in your hands now…

Thick, red syrup leaks down from under the Oni mask that Muta wears, leaking down his throat and his covered chest. Slick removes another cigarette from the pack he holds in his pocket.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Do the honourable thing…

[/color]

Slick lights the cigarette again, waving out the match in the dark, only to toss it to the side like he had before.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Run why you still can… Champ…

Slick laughs maniacally, removing the cigarette from his lips, holding it between his index and middle fingers of his right hand.

The Great Muta removes the Kabuki mask, revealing a Great Kabuki-inspired mask underneath for his match with Hawk Boy. The red syrupy liquid is over his mouth and chin, staining his goatee. The mask is black with vibrant yellows, greens and reds in the style of The Great Kabuki’s classic facepaint. The opening just over the nose to show his mouth and goatee is covered in an off-white color to compete the Kabuki look. The red wig is removed now, showing a long, black ponytail attached to the back of the mask.

Muta presses his right index, middle and ring fingers underneath his jaw as we fade to a shot of the parking lot.

A long, white limousine pulls into the parking lot, moving past the positioned camera. The camera focuses on a face far off in the lot, hiding behind a few cars and a support beam that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. The familiar and mysterious gentle-faced Japanese man looks over the parking lot from the darkness, receding back into it with a serious look on his face.

We fade to black.

-EORP-[/center]

[The Great Muta (T)]

“NO LOVE LOST”

Dawn of Disorder returns from a quick break promoting a new line of DHWA Action Figures featuring Stone Cold Steve Austin, Steve Corino and Slim Pickens along with their respective figurines. We return to a shot of the parking lot from earlier this evening where the mysterious white limousine pulled into the arena that hosts the first ever DHWA Pay-Per-View. We see a shot of the limousine parked in a spot by itself. It’s hard to see through it’s tinted black windows from the angle we are given, but it’s easily enough to tell that whoever or whatever is or was in the limousine is definitely related to Slick’s special surprise he had promised for later this evening.

We transition to a shot of Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler at ringside, both wearing expensive black tuxedos for the event, Jim Ross sporting his signature black cowboy hat which goes with the overall black and white theme that him and his broadcast partner in the King are displaying for the evening. Jim Ross holds his hands out in front of him, almost level with Jerry’s crown that sits in front of the plastic guard on top of the commentating table, as he speaks, welcoming the viewers at home back to the ringside area with the two Hall of Famers.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Well, Ladies and gentlemen, we are here, live from the Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky, and we have seen a lot of great action here tonight and there is yet more to come from DHWA’s first Pay-Per-View entitled Dawn of Disorder.

Lawler nods, facing Jim who looks into the face of The King who then directs himself to the camera that focus one the two at ringside. Lawler smiles slightly as he converses with his good friend, good ol’ J.R..

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
That’s right, J.R., we’ve seen brawls here tonight but those are probably nothing compared to what we will see in our main event. One of the most feared matches of all time, the exploding barbed wire rope match, which will feature the final two men left in the DHWA Smoking Skull Tournament, The Great Muta and Hawk Boy. One of these two men will be crowned DHWA Smoking Skull Champion here tonight at Dawn of Disorder.

[/color]

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Yes, King. Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve come a long way and tonight will be the night DHWA history is made, but one factor hasn’t really been taken into consideration yet, King, and that is the “special guest” that the now sensei of style, Slick, has promised to appear here tonight. What role will the guest, who or whatever it may be, play in the title match here tonight at Dawn of Disorder?

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
I don’t know, J.R., but the limo that we’ve seen here tonight must have something to do with that guest Slick has promised to be here tonight.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Definitely, King. Slick works in mysterious ways, as we have seen with his new moniker that has come with almost a new, more sinister Slick here in the Die-Hard Wrestling Alliance. There are only three men who know who the guest is and that is Slick, The Great Muta and the guest himself. [/color]

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
I couldn’t have said it better myself, J.R., but the one t-

Jerry’s attention is caught by something far off screen, directly in front of the two legendary commentators.

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
Oh no, not this, guy, J.R.!

Jim Ross looks ahead, whatever it is that the two have seen starts to draw a loud sea of boos from the audience, making the crowd stand up on their feet in absolute distaste of who it must be. J.R. almost double takes upon seeing the person who caught Lawler’s attention.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
No, way, King! It-it can’t be! It’s-!



Upon the almost iconic music playing over the P.A., the Die-Hard army boo even louder as we cut to a shot of the stage. The stage is covered in a nappy, maroon-coloured carpet that hugs the stage and the upper bit of the ramp tightly. A thick, pale pink sheeting hangs from underneath the titantron with a thin partition in between the sheeting suggesting it’s the way onto the stage from the hidden curtain. A white podium sits in the center of the maroon carpeting which bears a white mic stand. Sitting atop the white, curved stand is a long, white, slender microphone, making the two seem like one piece on top of the podium.



What really draws the heat from the sold out crowd in attendance is the man who walks onto the stage. Wearing his iconic white suit with a red dress shirt matched with a bright white tie, none other than Brother Love walks out onto the stage. Love holds a large, yet thin, dark red book in his right hand as he prances, making his white jacket fly up with ever step, showing his white suspenders. Brother Love’s face is as red as it ever was. His large brown-framed glasses sit atop his nose and over his ears, making his eyes look beady as he smiles, showing off his teeth that are as white as his suit. He jumps behind the podium, placing the large book on the flat, slanted top of it. He snatches the slender microphone from it’s holder and slowly walks out in front of the podium, holding the short tip of the mic close to his mouth.

The camera zooms into his face as he says his signature line.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
AIIIIIIIIIII LUUUUUUUUUUVVV YEEEEWWWWWWW!!!

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
Can’t say the same about you, there, Brother Love..

The crowd boos loudly, almost downing out the already loud-talking messenger of love who was an iconic character in the WWF during the 80’s and early 90’s. Brother Love smiles, walking around the maroon carpet, showing his hair is much shorter in the back than it was one time before.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Brothers and sisters! Tonight at Dawn of Disorder, love will be brought to the world title picture! You see, Brother Love is the special guest who Brother Slick had promised to be here tonight![/color]

The crowd boos loudly, the music still playing in the background as Brother Love continues.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Brother Muta is here as I speak the words of love to all of you. Brother Slick is here as I speak the words of love to you. Both Brother Muta and Brother Slick will be here tonight on the Brother Love Show! But that is yet to come. First, I, Brother Love must speak the words of love to all of you!

Brother Love travels to a spot behind the podium where he had rested the book. He opens it up, turning to almost halfway into the book. He drags his free hand across the pages to keep them in place before taking another stroll to the left part of the stage.

The crowd continues to boo unmercifully.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
You see, love is a beautiful thing! And love is in all of our hearts! But no man on this earth can match the pure love that rests inside the heart of the sensei of style, Brother Slick! I’ve known Brother Slick for many years and I was more than honoured when he called me up and asked me to preach the words of love to all you die-hard Brother Slick fans here on the Brother Love Show! As I said earlier, love will be brought to the world title picture tonight here at Dawn of Disorder! Tonight, Brother Muta will do what he has done for so long again tonight when he defeats Brother Hawk Boy with an immortal Shining Wizard and a one-two-three!

Brother Love now positions himself behind the podium, still holding the microphone in his right hand as his bright red face looms over the gold pages of the opened book that accompanied him to the set of his show.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
The book of love says clearly! It clearly says that love is all around us! Every minute of the day! Every day of the week! There are three types of love in this world, brothers and sisters! First of all, there is good love! Good love is the kind of love you get from those who love you! Your mother and father, your brothers and sisters! Friends and family! The kind of love that Brother Love and Brother Slick have given you for all these years and you kindly gave back to us!

The fans boo loudly, following with a booming “shut the fuck up” chant.

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
Listen to this crowd, J.R.!

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
I hear them, King! I wonder if Brother Love hears them as well..[/color]

Lawler snickers before replying.

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
If he does, I hope he listens.

Brother Love wraps his left hand around the lapel of his white jacket, scrunching the green and red boutonniere against his chest. He smiles widely still holding his slender white mic.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Secondly, you have tough love! Tough love, brothers and sisters, is the kind of love that you get when you do something bad. The kind of love your parents have given to you when you wasted your pitiful and loveless time drinking and smoking or doing drugs to be a part of the “in-crowd”. Tough love, brothers and sisters is the kind of love that Brother Muta has expressed in his matches over the years. Brother Diego, Brother Moris, Brother Maivia and tonight, Brother Hawk Boy! All of these men have and will experience tough love from Brother Muta in the ring one day or another! Brother Hawk Boy, your time is tonight! And when you, Brother Hawk Boy, step into that ring, you will experience that tough love when you’re ran back-first into barbed wire ropes or slammed on a razor board and are rendered defenseless against the tough love of Brother Muta!

Brother Love walks away from his book that sits atop of his podium, walking to the area just in front of it. He left hand removes itself from his lapel, animatedly moving around when he yells into the microphone.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Finally! There is BAD LOVE! Bad love is the kind of love that leaks from the mouth of Brother Hawk Boy! The kind of bad love that Brother Slick spoke about in Japan during his pre-recorded video. Brother Hawk Boy and all the brothers that came before him, all of them carry the kind of bad love that uglies the face of this business! But even though, I, Brother Love, am the messenger of love, I must recede and let Brother Slick say his piece himself for I cannot speak for Brother Slick. So, without further ado, I give to you, three of the men I am more than happy to invite to this stage alongside myself; brothers and sisters, put your hands together for Brother Slick, Brother Muta and Brother Corino!

The music of Brother Love cuts out.



The fans boo as the music of Best of Both Worlds starts to play over the P.A. system. We pan over the crowd as we see some signs that are in favour of the faction with signs like “MANAGE ME SLICK” and “CORINO AND MUTA ARE THE BEST IN THE WORLD”, along with signs that aren’t in favour of the three men such as “WORST OF BOTH WORLDS” and “GO BACK TO JAPAN MUTA”. We cut back to a shot of the Brother Love Show set as the partition in the sheeting bursts open as Slick walks out in a black kimono with the Best of Both Worlds logo sewn into the back. Fog floats around the lower body of the sensei of style outlining the silhouette of Steve Corino who now walks out onto the set in his wrestling attire for this evening and a black Best of Both Worlds T-Shirt.

The fog settles into the carpeting before fizzling away into thin air. Soon after Slick and Corino are on the stage with Brother Love, the face of the Oni mask from Muta and Slick’s earlier promo appears through the curtain as The Great Muta lightly walks out onto the set of the show. His long red wig that he wears in honour of his father hangs down around his back and his shoulders. His kimono-like jacket brushes against the carpeting as he walks, stopping near the podium.

Muta undoes the top bit of his kimono before undoing the belt, letting the long coat fall around his ankles. He has his chest painted with the Japanese symbols for ‘patience’ (忍) and ‘flame’ (炎) on his right and left shoulders respectfully. On the center of his chest is a large black spider with a yellow back with an Oni face drawn on the vibrant yellow.

With one movement of his right hand, his taped fingers wrap underneath the plastic mask, removing it and the wig all together from his face revealing his ring mask he wears for his father, The Great Kabuki. He drops the two items on the carpeting, which is soon picked up by ringside personnel who are dressed in black work pants and black DHWA T-Shirts promoting upcoming events, tours and pay-per-views.

Muta’s pants are black with the a face on the right thigh that his half of an Oni mask and half of The Great Muta’s face with fire reaching up around that ankle. On the left leg are the Japanese symbols for ‘The Great Muta’ (グレートムタ) written vertically in a gold, shimmering font. Muta bows his head downward as the music fades out fading back into the music of Brother Love.



Brother love approaches the sensei of style to have him speak to the crowd.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Brother Slick, Brother Corino and Brother Muta! Welcome to the Brother Love show! Brother Slick, please, tell all these people about the bad love in which Brother Hawk Boy possesses inside of himself.
[/color]
Slick adjusts his fedora waving his pointing finger and his head around animatedly as he speaks.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Brotha Love! My brotha, let me tell you and all these hicks and rednecks about the bad kind of love that you were talking about, that as you said, lives and breathes inside the anatomy of one Hawk Boy. Y’see, my brotha, the answer to all of the questions lies in his name! Hawk BOY. He is simply a boy in a man’s world. Hawk BOY had all he knows spoon fed into his system by his grandfather and his father! Brotha Love, this kid had it good, he had it made from the get-go! This young brotha was destined to be a pro wrestler because his granddaddy had to kiss ass to get his son brought in to the business and Hawk BOY’s daddy had to the same. Y’see, to say it more clearly, Hawk Boy comes from a looooooooooooooooooooooooooonggg line of ass-kissers! It’s in his genes! One day, when he puts his love into a woman who’s either blind or has the mental capacity of a twig and has a son or daughter, he’s going to be all for getting down on his knees and puckering up as if it were a reflex! Brotha Love, please, examine with your eyes! Examine with your eyes! Examine the pure glory of The Great Muta as he stands before you and all these losers from the front row to all the way up there in the cheap seats where the air gets thin, your soon to be DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Champ-ee-un!

The crowd boos loudly as Muta’s narrow brown eyes scan the set through the black paint he wears underneath the mask to cover up the skin around his eyes. The opening of the mask for his mouth and nose is still painted white in the style of his father’s facepaint.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Brother Slick, Brother Corino and Brother Muta…

We see a quick shot of Steve Corino who rolls his eyes.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
{continued}
… You three men are three of the most iconic figures in the DHWA! The Best of Both Worlds managed by Slick! All of you fans who boo this man, Brother Muta, Brother Slick and Brother Corin-![/color]

-x[Steve Corino | The King of Old School]x-
That’s it!

We see Steve Corino who now holds a microphone of his own, this time a shorter black microphone used traditionally by the DHWA talent and backstage interviewer, Todd Grisham.

-x[Steve Corino | The King of Old School]x-
{continued, furious}
Listen to me you red hot chili pepper, my name is Steve FUCKING Corino. You call me ‘Brother’ one more time, I’m going to take this and shove it down your red throat along with that stupid microphone of yours and force all those ‘brothers’ out of your ass![/color]

The crowd softly cheers but is overpowered with a mix of boos and loud, heavy laughs, most likely coming from the male population of the audience.

Brother Love holds his free hand up, bowing his head slightly, humbling himself to the outspoken Steve Corino.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
Brother Corino, I-I’m s-!

Steve Corino throws down his mic and charges at Brother Love but the sensei of style, Slick, intervenes, cutting the two off from each other as Brother Love cowers down a short flight of steps that are attached to the staging down to where the wiring of the program lies. Brother Love hugs his large book against his chest. He slowly climbs up the steps, visibly frazzled.

Slick now holds the mic that Corino once held.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Steve, STEVE! Brotha, listen, my man, calm down.. C-calm down. Brotha Love doesn’t mean any harm to you, brotha, just c-calm down..

Steve Corino is overhead saying something along the lines of “He mightn’t, but I do, I’m going to kick his fat head down through his fat ass!”

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
Brotha, hold up, HOLD UP! Steve, listen to me… If you want Brotha Love you’re going to go through me and I know that neither you or Muta would want to do that! I’m an important asset to you two! To the Best of Both Worlds!

Steve Corino backs up a little smiling. The fans are puzzled but still boo, mainly for their distaste for Slick.

Slick looks at the two men now with beads of sweat clung to his forehead. He takes a deep swallow.

-x[Slick | The Sensei of Style]x-
R-right, guys? M-Muta..?[/color]

The Great Muta stares into the face of Slick, which makes the former doctor of style take a step back. Muta stands still with his right foot slightly forwards before pointing his pointed index finger of his right hand at the sensei of style before slitting his throat with his right tumb and pointing the same digit downward making Slick’s face almost drain of all colour. His wide eyes travel back and forth between the two men before he is drilled with a quick, hard kick to the midsection from Steve Corino, sending the manager of The Great Muta to his knees.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
BAW GAWD! STEVE CORINO JUST KICKED SLICK IN THE STOMACH! WHAT IS THIS, KING!?

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
Could it be what I think it is, J.R.!?

The crowd cheers loudly in favour of the attack as The Great Muta presses his first three fingers of his right hand under his jaw before grabbing Slick by the back of his head, spitting a cloud of black mist into the face of the kneeling, now obvious FORMER manager of The Great Muta. Muta violently blows clowd after cloud of the black mist into the face of Slick, which is said to blind the victim for several weeks or longer.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
THE BLACK MIST! THE BLACK MIST!

Muta releases Slick who falls to his back with his eyes wide open saying “I can’t see,” repeatedly, grabbing for something to help him up to his feet. The Great Muta measures of Slick, who is now to his knees, from behind. Slick faces Muta on his knees, only to be taken back down in a painful heap with a picture-perfect Shining Wizard! Muta pushes himself to his feet, blowing a cloud of black mist into the air, making the black stain over his white-painted mouth grow longer. The fans cheer loudly as he walks over Slick’s fallen body towards Corino. The two shake hands.

Brother Love comically crawls himself over the carpet, making it bunch and fold as he grabs his slender, white mic, yelling into it, bending over the body of Slick, still on his knees.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
{hysterically}
BROTHER SLICK! BROTHER SLICK! BROTHER SLICK!

The Great Muta grabs Brother Love by his red throat and by the back of collar, pulling the loudmouthed host and special guest of Slick to his feet. Brother Love holds his mic close to his mouth, staring into the face of The Great Muta who stares at him with anger in his eyes.

-x[Brother Love | The Messenger of Love]x-
{high-pitched, chokingly}
Brother Muta! Brother Muta! I-!

Muta tightens his grip on Brother Love’s throat making him squeal like a pig and drop his microphone. Muta looks towards the heavens before blowing a cloud of red mist, not in, but just above the face of Brother Love tossing him into a destructive Classical Kick sending Brother Love to the carpeting in a spread-eagle position on his back. He convulses a few times as The Great Muta patiently picks the slender mic of Brother Love off of the stage, straightening and holding it to his lips.

He passes his eyes from Slick to Brother Love a few times while speaking.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
Honesty is the best policy…

Muta’s music hits as he tosses the mic to the carpet, making the plastic coating of the mic to crack. He looms over Slick, licking his lips with the upmost praise of the audience.

Steve Corino pats the one of two number one contenders on the back before the two leave, leaving us with a close up shot of Slick’s unconscious, black-stained face before we fade to black.

-EORP-[/center]

OCC: I have gained permission from Steve Corino to have him appear in this RP.