The Great Miko - Battle Royal Promo

Standing before a large banner is a pale man with a brown combover wearing a green coat with purple pants which would make even the Joker slit his wrists. Wire-rimmed glasses adorn his face and a tennis racket is in his hand, waving menacingly before the camera.


“Hello ladies and gentlemen. For you fools and rapscallions who do NOT know me, my name is Arnold Cunningham and I represent the SINGLE MOST ELITE fighting camp in ALL of the fighting arts, Xpress Fighting Systems! And I stand before you today because a GHASTLY and HORRENDOUS situation has been brought to my attention. You see, when I first heard through the grapevine that Alpha Pro Wrestling, a company ALREADY known to be a warren of scoundrels, street-walkers, and others of the ILLEST repute, was going to play host to a LUCHA tournament, I didn’t believe it! ‘It’s a lie,’ I said! ‘Not even THEY would dip into THAT lowest of low levels,’ I said. But! Oh BUT! I was wrong! I had, in fact, given the moneygrubbing consortium of ne’er-do-wells behind Alpha TOO MUCH CREDIT when I believed that they would NEVER disgrace our fair sport with the IDIOTIC PAGENTRY that is this so-called style of wrestling, Lucha Libre.”

Arnold shakes his head and gives an exasperated sigh.

“They actually did it! Like Gearge Taylor falling into the desert waste before the ruins of Lady Liberty, I had to scream at my television set ‘You blew it up! You blew it all to hell!’ THAT is what Lucha Libre does to the wrestling world, you kind good men and women! Professional wrestling is the sport of KINGS and QUEENS and all that flippy crap filled with trampolines and costumes within Lucha is nothing but the court jester playing the fool! And Alpha BESMIRCHED itself, it RUINED itself, it SHIT IT’S PANTS by allowing that moron Eli to host his tournament with the Alpha name! And now! NOW! A week removed, we, the people who CARE about the HONOR of professional wrestling, are AGAIN going to be FORCED to SUFFER the INDIGNITY of this circus act?! Not on the watch of Xpress Fighting Systems, I’ll have you know!

“You see, dear people, we are INVADING this so-called ‘wrestling’ event and taking it DOWN! We are going to show the WORLD what REAL wrestlers look like, and not these fantastical NOBODIES who might as well be going to amateur night at the Cosplay Society luncheon! And I don't have to tell you how TWO-BIT that particular society is! And now, you might be asking, HOW are we doing this? Me and what army, huh? Well, THIS army!”

He gestures wildly with his racket and a figure walks into the camera shot. He is a massive man, standing head and shoulders above the man with the racket, with bright white hair which falls to his shoulders, a massively strong chin, and almond-shaped eyes speaking of an Asian heritage. He wears a black t-shirt with white lettering, with the phrase #SwoleLikeShinji written across the front, and bare legs filled with bulging muscles all the way down to his black boots. He stands tall next to Arnold and folds his arms over his chest while.

“This right here is THE MOOOOOOUNTAIN Shijiro Nakama, the STRONGEST man in the HISTORY of Puroresu, the TRUEST form of wrestling in the world! This man, with kicks harnessing the power of a tsunami, with suplexes embracing the very tips of Fiji, was UNSTOPPABLE in the Land of the Rising Sun! Women flock to him with hopes of bearing his children! Men weep while staring up at his majesty! Children sing songs of his glory and wish that HE was their sire! The Hero of Puro! The Embodiment of Toukon Retsuden! The Ruiner of Dreams!”

He reaches up and claps the man on a broad shoulder.

“But! I know that THIS MAN, this MOUNTAIN, would be UNFAIR in the idiotic ‘sport’ of lucha! When they all decided to do that dumb thing where they all jump out of the ring at one another one at a time? The MOUNTAIN would simply catch them all and slam them to the ground! At the same time! And that face of his? That beautiful mug? It cannot be hidden by a mask! It cannot be covered! Nay, the women of Japan would hold a protest at the thought! They would riot! They would pillage! They would sacrifice themselves in order to keep him from covering his face! So instead! INSTEAD! The MOUUUUNTAIN shall be standing at MY SIDE when I stand at the side of the person who WILL be in the ring at the Lucha Bowl! He will stand resolute as I stand ERECT and STRONG to lead, cheer on, and CHAMPION the person who will walk into that battle royal and ELIMINATE all of the dregs OF the dregs of wrestling society who will be there. And that is Xpress Fighting System’s very own...undefeated...GREAT MIKO!”

With more wild waving of his racket, another form joins him, this one far smaller. Lithe of build, the woman shares Shinjiro’s hair color, with platinum locks which fly all around in a chaotic mess. She wears a black bodysuit and a mask which covers most of her face, and as she turns to the camera, we see purple coming from her round eyes.

“The GREAT MIKO has been taking the world by STORM since we introduced her several months ago! All across the globe, she has travelled for Action, and what has she done? Destroyed every one and THING in her path! From record-breaking knockouts to dominating tag team matches AND MORE, she has been the STAR of EVERYWHERE she goes! And, unfortunately for EVERYONE at the Lucha Bowl, she HATES flippy shit!”

Miko snarls underneath her mask and pure menace comes out of her eyes.

“She is going to claw, and tear, and RIP out the eyes, ears, limbs, and HEARTS of every wannabe wrestler in that battle royal! And considering that the expected assortment of costume-wearing FREAKS includes those who already LOST to OTHER freaks of mankind, this is going to be a CAKEWALK! Honestly, have you SEEN the idiots who made fools of themselves last week? HA!

“El Gran Sol has spent the last twenty years crying about how his father wasn’t enough of a MAN to stand UP to the Man and got his pansy-butt kicked out of the country! Hell, I’m pretty sure the real reason he tells his sob story over and over again is in hopes that he’ll be a pity handy at a dive-bar after he loses his next match in embarrassing fashion. If I were him, I would get ahold of a time machine, travel back in time, and kick his dad’s sorry butt for not having the cojones, that’s Spanish, ya know, to be a REAL hero for his kid, instead of setting him up for a life of ‘just not good enough’ while he flails like a pathetic seal caught in a desert!

“But at least he’s not the One Armed Wonder, Princesa! Not only did I NOT know who this PIPSQUEAK was, I followed her advice and Googled her! I put her name into the Google machine and got video after video titled ‘Pathetic Amputee Will Do ANYTHING For Money. You won’t BELIEVE #4!’ and Mrs Cunningham was NONE TOO PLEASED with my search history! And watching the tournament didn’t help much, either, considering how fast she got her boney butt beat! But what I DO know is that, no matter WHAT, that arm of hers is still beat to hell, and the GREAT MIKO is perfectly DESIGNED to rip it RIGHT OFF and beat her over the HEAD with it until morale improves!

“In fact, the ONLY person in this battle royal BESIDES the GREEEeeEEeeeEEeeEAT MIKO with ANY talent at all is that handsome, and dare I say SEXY, man known as Chalupa! A hunk of man flesh nearly mouthwatering enough to even sway the ever-vigilant eyes of Mrs Cunningham, he can fly through the air with the grace of a 1000 seagals! Both svelte AND muscular at the same time, with the ability to stretch beyond even the bounds of Misters Fantastic and Armstrong, he is a MONSTER of wrestling! Unfortunately for him, he is going to face the COMBINED FORCES of the people before you, and there is NO stopping when the GREAT Miko RIPS and TEARS into you, even IF you are the Master of Sex Appeal like Chalupa!

“In two days, in the BEAUTIFUL state of Hawai’i, the Xpress Fighting Systems team shall END the blight that is LUCHA!”

Arnold cackles maniacally as Miko and Shinjiro stand menacingly.

---

---

A small form in a black robe, the hood pulled up and obscure the face, slips through the halls of the Hawaiian arena, a duffel bag swaying at its side. Workers of the arena take notice but then quickly look away, as their eyes find the vision difficult to hold onto. And even as they do, they feel a coldness move its way into their bodies, as if they has stepped through the wardrobe and found themselves in the path of Jadis’ sledge with Maugrim growling all the way. So away they turn from the figure in black and allow it to travel unmolested.

The form pushes through a door and into a small sitting room, locking the door behind it, before scanning the room with slow movements of its head. Two chairs, a couch, a mirror with bright lights. Simple furnishings and nothing else.

The figure walks toward the mirror and places the bag upon the ground, then takes in the mirror. Reaching up with gloved hands, the figure pushes back the hood to reveal the face of a beautiful girl with pale skin, a sharp chin and nose, and high cheekbones, with a pair of thick glasses resting upon the bridge of her nose. Her eyebrows are a white as bright as snow, as are the loose locks of hair spilling from her head and into the back fo the robe, and her eyes shine an odd red in the lights of the vanity. The woman leans toward the mirror and touches her eyes with her fingers, the bright skin standing in sharm contrast to the surrounding black, and a tired sigh slips out from between her light pink lips.

“...exhausted…”

Her voice is high-pitched but weary and ragged. Her fingers touch the dark bags surrounding her eyes, signs of lack of sleep and too much work. She sighs again and shakes her head, then looks down to the bag at her feet. She picks it up and sets it on the surface of the vanity and unzips it. She removes a number of items, a folded plastic bag filled with a black outfit, a hairbrush, a plastic contact lens container, a black facemask dotted with silver studs. She sets down every item gently before placing the bag back on the ground and looking back toward the mirror.

With the slow movements and an occasional flash of pain on her face, she removes her robe to reveal a curvy body with strong muscles featuring large tattoos on her shoulders, a hellish white mask on the right and a large cross within a sunburst on the left, and several deep bruises which she pauses now and again to look at in the mirror. She removes the black clothing from the plastic bag and pulls the garments over her body, offering a wince as her joints rotate about, until she wears a tight leather bodysuit which covers every inch of her pale skin.

Afterward, she removes her glasses and pulls out a pair of thick lenses from the container, using gentle movements to slide them into place. After a few blinks, her odd red eyes have turned a deep purple.

She takes the hairbrush and moves it through her hair with wild motions, teasing and whipping it until it is a chaotic mess.

Finally, she takes the facemask and pulls it over her head, adjusting it until it obscures everything but her eyes and forehead.

A knock on the door forces her head to snap toward it, her eyes wide and as wild as her hair.

“It’s time! It is time for the GREA-”

She turns away from the voice behind the door, letting his words turn deaf in her ear. She looks at herself in the mirror again, and smiles underneath the mask, as her mind flies back to her own words from a few weeks ago.

“Some people like when others do the talking sometimes, ya know?”
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