“What it’s time for, is to find out who the phony tough is, and who’s the crazy brave.”
-The Undertaker, WWF/WCW/ECW Invasion
“Why does he fight? Why? You keep fighting to find that answer.”
-Sakura Kasugano, Street Fighter Alpha: The Movie
“If it’s dirty, wash it. If it’s hairy, clip it. And if it needs exfoliating, call a plumber or your local clergyman.”
-Red Green, The Red Green Show
**EAST MEETS WEST…TO KICK ASS!!!**
The pyros flared, the fireworks exploded, the spotlights soared over the arena, and Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” blared from the stadium speakers at the highest volume setting of “Pretty-damn-loud” (It’s right after the volume setting of 10). This was nothing compared to the audience. The filled-to-capacity crowd roared at the beginning of what was sure to be one hell of a violence-filled, fan-service, chalk-full-of-action night! This is what Sports Entertainment is all about! Yeah Baby!
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” A familiar Southern drawl sounded from behind the commentator’s table. “‘Good Ol’ J.R.’, Jim Ross, here along with Jerry ‘The King’ Lawler, welcoming you to what is sure to be the greatest night of cross-over fighting sports entertainment fan fiction action ever! We welcome you to EAST MEETS WEST!!!” As the man in the black Resistol cowboy hat shouted into his headset microphone, the people watching at home cheered in utter joy, for it meant the pay-per-view they shelled out forty bucks to see had finally begun. The people in the live audience, however, couldn’t hear him over their own cheering.
“That’s right J.R.,” A very excited King agreed from beside J.R., completing the A-Team of commentating. “Tonight, we have eighteen magnificent matches for you! Including a Hell in a Cell, a Mixed Tag match, and, get this J.R., a Bra and Panties match! WOO-HOO! Bra and Panties! Bra and Panties!” Jerry Lawler jumped up and down in his chair like a kid at Christmas.
“Calm down King,” J.R. chided the old time wrestling star in tights and a crown, then turned his attention back to the fans. “He’s right folks! Tonight, some of the biggest American pop culture icons, including Superman, Zorro, and some of our very own WWE Superstars, will face off against some of the best Japanese characters from anime and fighting games. Names like Son Goku, Ranma Saotome, and members of the Street Fighters Tournament will all be in action tonight!”
“Of course we can’t do this all by ourselves J.R.,” King prompted his partner.
“That’s right, King. We now take you to the back, where the other two commentating teams for this evening are waiting to join us ring-side later tonight.”
* * * * *
In the back, four figures eagerly awaited their turn at the commentating table, and each held a microphone. Two teenage boys in tuxedoes, one with black hair and rather bland expression, the other had unruly white hair, red eyes, a pale complexion, but also a look of utter excitement and joy on his face, made the first alternate commentating team, Daisuke and Hiroshi. The second pairing was even more unique. A “little” black duck, in an orange sports coat and bow tie and an attractive woman with red-brown hair, dressed in a yellow jump suit, the commentating team of Daffy Duck and April O’ Neil.
“Good evening, Hiroshi, Daisuke, April, Daffy,” J.R.’s voice rang in their earpieces.
“Good evening J.R., King,” April was the first to return the greeting.
“Helloooo April!” King’s voice sung into the scene. April promptly ignored him.
“S’up guys?” Daffy slurred into his microphone (Thank God for microphone guards).
“Evening J.R.,” Daisuke said in a tone that said “Well, I have nothing better to do tonight”. Hiroshi, on the other hand, looked overjoyed, and was nearly vibrating with excitement, but said nothing.
“Are you all ready for tonight?” J.R. began what was to be a small line of questioning.
“We sure are J.R.,” A perpetually bland Daisuke said next to Hiroshi, who still looked like he was about to burst with excitement. “Although I have to think--.” Poor Hiroshi couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“NNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!” Daisuke, showing an uncharacteristic amount of emotion, shouted as he tackled his fellow cloned commentating partner and best friend. Unfortunately, they collided right into Daffy, sending a few black feathers flying along with them.
“Hey! Watch it, Paleface,” Daffy complained to the cloned commentators on top of him, commenting on their current skin complexion (Wow, try saying that five times fast).
“Sorry about that,” Daisuke said as he removed himself from the tangled mess. “Hiroshi has a hyper tendency to cause trouble. Not to mention law suits.”
“Yeah,” Hiroshi chuckled nervously. “I kinda get carried away. Sorry.”
“Next time,” Daffy said as he pushed Hiroshi off of him. “Get carried away in the opposite direction of me.”
“Anyway,” J.R. interrupted, desperate to change the subject as April helped the three commentators right themselves. “Hiroshi and Daisuke, you’re both from Japan, correct?”
“That’s right J.R.,” Hiroshi proudly exclaimed, never one to let current events deter his enthusiasm. “We proudly hail forth from the Land of the Rising Sun!”
“Right,” Daisuke rolled his eyes at his over excited partner.
“So how come we can understand you?” King piped up with a very important question regarding this eventful evening.
“Interesting fact, King,” Daisuke began what was sure to be an educated and informative explanation, but, unfortunately, he was interrupted by Hiroshi.
“That’s right!” The hyper white haired commentator blurted out. “We have universal translators! I can speak in any language and you can understand me perfectly! I can say something in Spanish! Como dante-o esta- Wait that’s not right. Como donde niner- Uhhh.”
“Did I hear a ‘niner’ in there?” Daffy wondered out loud.
“Unfortunately,” Daisuke interrupted this rather embarrassing display. “Hiroshi doesn’t know how to speak Spanish.”
“Oh,” Hiroshi sheepishly sweatdropped. “Right. A-heh.”
“But nonetheless, he’s right,” Daisuke allowed his friend to save some face. “Tonight, all of the equipment has been fitted with universal translators. So no matter where tonight’s fighters come from, we should always be able to understand them.”
“Wow,” King…’wowed’. “That’s amazing.”
“Yeah,” Daffy agreed snidely. “Too bad it can’t help Hiroshi’s intelligence.”
“Or Daffy’s lisp,” Hiroshi shot back, smiling.
“Hey,” Daffy shouted defensively. “Don’t mess with me, Clone Boy.”
“Oh yeah?!? Just bring it, Duck!”
As Daisuke attempted to hold his friend back from the taunting Daffy, April took the initiative and ended the interview.
“We’ll see you later tonight,” She smiled as she stepped in front of the bickering commentators. “Back to you, J.R.”
* * * * *
“Thank you, April. We’ll see you and Daffy out here for the second match of this evening,” J.R. suddenly remembered what he just saw. “I hope.”
“So do I,” King happily agreed. “I want to see April O’Neil as much as possible! Woo hoo!”
“Calm down, King,” J.R. commented. “We’ll see them all again later. But first, we have to get these exciting matches underway.”
“Yeah J.R., but there’s one thing bothering me,” King said as he looked off to the side of the ring, not too far beyond J.R.
“What’s that King?”
“The time keeper over there,” King responded, pointing at the figure sitting next to the ringbell. “He’s creeping me out.”
Sure enough, the tall figure sitting next to the ring bell was an imposing one. Covered completely in black robes, and his face covered in shadow by a hood. It seemed as if Death itself was going to keep time for this momentous event, except for the fact that he held a small hammer instead of a tall, sharp sickle.
“I see what you mean, King,” J.R. peered at the dark and unsettling figure, not ten feet next to him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” A blond mustached man wearing sunglasses and holding a microphone said from the middle of the ring, interrupting King and J.R.’s train of thought.
“Welcome to the first ever EMW Pay-Per-View extravaganza!!!” The Tenkaichi Budoukai Announcer continued and crowd roared in excitement, which the seasoned ring announcer was well expecting. “Are you ready for some non-stop fighting action?!?”
The crowd roared it’s positive response.
“Great!!!” The Announcer continued. “But first, allow me to explain the ways to win a match here on EMW!”
“A fighter can win a match by pin fall or submission. A fighter can also win his or her match if they render their opponent unconscious, or their opponent is disqualified due to outside interference. The final way to win a match is if one fighter completes a special match stipulation. Like in our first match, which is a ‘Nightstick-on-a-Pole Match’!”
“Wow,” King chuckled. “Talk about a segway!”
A loud heavy metal bass guitar played a repetitive entrance theme as a husky man wearing a black SWAT uniform and “Southern Sheriff” sunglasses made his way out from the backstage and down the entrance ramp.
“Making his way to the ring,” The Announcer began his first introduction of the evening. “From Cobb County, Georgia, weighing in at 315 pounds, the Big Boss Man!”
His goatee and crewcut made him look a lot like a tough Southern cop, and the small gold star on his flank jacket only served to drive the point home. It looks like the only thing missing was his nightstick, which is currently hanging on the top of a pole in a corner of the ring.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen Big Boss Man without his nightstick, isn’t it King?” J.R. asked.
“Yeah,” The King agreed. “It’s up on that pole there, and whoever climbs up there and grabs it can use it to win the match.”
“I’d hate to be his opponent if Boss Man gets to his favorite weapon of choice first, J.R. commented. “He must be in a real bad mood without it.”
“He’s ALWAYS in a bad mood, J.R.,” King said. “Now he’s just worse. Who is his opponent anyway?”
Here We Go Now! o/`
Dressed in a uniform that could only be described as a cross between a police officer’s and an airline stewardess’s, with a very off-center fluffy bunny tail, a very cute, blue-eyed, tan-skinned, buxom blond cheerfully strolled out of the entrance way and down the ramp to the equally bouncy tune of “Soda Pop” by Britney Spears.
o/` Mm-hmm! Soda Pop! Watch it Fizz and Pop!
The Clock is Tickin’ and We Can’t Stop! Can’t Stop Now!
Mm-hmm! Soda Pop! Bop, Shu-bop!
The Clock is Tickin’ and We Can’t Stop! o/`
“And his opponent,” The Announcer shouted with slight reservation. “From Okayama, Japan, Galaxy Police Detective First-class, Mihoshi Kuramitsu!”
As Mihoshi bounced down the ramp, she cheerfully and innocently waved to the cheering crowd as if she were flagging down a group of friends. The Big Boss Man just waited in the ring, a predatory smile on his face and an evil glint in his sunglasses.
“Hi everyone!” Mihoshi smiled and shouted. “Gee, there sure is a lot of people. I wonder what they’re here for.”
“What the?!?” King shouted in confusion. “SHE’S going to fight Big Boss Man in a ‘Nightstick-on-a-Pole Match’?!? This can’t be fair!”
“Whose god awful idea was this match anyway?” J.R. angrily wondered.
Somewhere in the arena, a dark, caped figure smiles.
* * * * *
As Mihoshi climbed through the ring ropes, her foot caught on the bottom one, and she ended up flat on her face in the ring.
“Owwie,” Mihoshi moaned as she rose to her knees, tears beginning to form in her big blue eyes. “That hurt.”
Boss Man only chuckled cruelly, right before he charged forward to attack.
“Look Out!” J.R. shouted to Mihoshi.
To Be Continued…