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Counting All The Assholes In The Room

Well I'm Definitely Not Alone... I'm Not Alone.

You're A Liar

You're A Cheater

You're A Fool

Well That's Just Like Me Ooohoo.

And I Know You Too

Mr. Perfect Don't Exist My Little Friend
And I Tell You It Again, And I Do It Again
Counting All The Assholes In The Room
Well I'm Definitely Not Alone. Well I'm Not Alone.

[And his tag team partner, from Covington, Washington. Weighing in at 223 pounds... The Man That Time Forgot. Kelly King 2 . 0!]

There had been an undeniable pause between Hiro's entrance and 2.0's entrance, and perhaps King was just as unsettled by the idea of teaming up with Hiro so soon after their fighting as the crowd was. They cheered to see King as he walked out onto the stage area, wearing his mask and hat and cloak for all to see, but he stared over at Hiro with a great degree of caution. He lifted his hand up to remove the silver mask from his face, along with his fedora with the opposite arm, taking them both off and holding them out to his sides. He let both drop onto the stage ungracefully, stretching and rolling his shoulders, arms and legs, before audibly cracking his neck. King stalked down to the ring with considerable purpose, his eyes on Hiro the majority of the time. It was pretty clear he didn't think he could trust the man.



2.0 walked up the steps and onto the apron, his gloved hand sliding across the top rope, before he stepped into the squared circle where he belonged. With a trot over the far corner, his favorite one, he climbed up high onto the middle rope and closed his eyes, lifting his chin, and basking in the glow of the spotlight, his cloak billowing behind him. He removed the red drape from his shoulders and tossed it out of the ring before shouting out to the fans multiple hyped obscenities and then hitting his taunt before them. He kissed the backs of his fingers and thrust his arms out to pose, before jumping down and proceeding to remove the rest of his entrance attire in preperation for a tag team match he was obviously hesitant to be a part of.

HAH, HAH, HAAAAAAAAAAAAH~

The distinctive guitar riff of Misirlou by d**k Dale and the Del Tones blares throughout the arena, drowning out some of the boo's that Jamie Bader had brought onto himself. Out onto the stage sashays the unwelcome guest, Freakshow. Did the crowd boo? You bet your sweet a** they did. Did Freak like it? He loved it.


Freakshow yells into the microphone over the rabble that permeated the arena. He starts down the ramp, walking slowly, unfortunately for the viewers it would appear that he had plenty to say and was in no rush. He brings the mic towards his lopsided mouth, before his attention snaps to a nearby fan, "Hey you be quiet lady, maybe I'll show you something after," Then he makes a subtle thrust, his words barely audible on camera.

"Me and Jamie Bader, we've got something in common," The jagged voiced New Yorker casually starts, "And it isn't just, that we wear stylish, pearl-white boots," He points at his feet, "Hey camera guy, get a look at them'," Freak actually waits for the camera man to zoom in on his boots before resuming his talking, "It isn't just, that we have silky, smooth, platinum blonde hair!" With that he runs a hand through his greasy, coarse, bright yellow locks.

"And it isn't even, that we hate each and every last one of you, reprehensible, scummy, low lives in the arena here tonight," He pauses for dramatic effect, the silence is filled in predictably by waves of negativity, "No, no, no. What we have in common baby, is something less.. I dunno- What's the word? Superficial? Yeah, yeah, superficial,"

He nods to himself, looking very proud that he had found the word, he arrives now at the ringside area, where he gives Bader a thumbs up. "See daddy-o, I know what it's like. I know what it's like to sit at home, out of action, watching close.." He squints at Hiro as he climbs up the ringsteps, putting a hand on the top rope while wiping his feet. "Watching, a no good, low down, yellow, long legged latin piece of trash dirty up the industry that I made MY living in!"

"You're sayin', Freak, just stop watching," He exchanges a knowing, hurt glance with Bader, "Just stop watching," He repeats to himself, shaking his head, "And I try.. But then, I walk outside, I walk down skidrow. The mean streets of Brooklyn, and you know what I see? You know what tortures me?" Looking traumatized, Freakshow puts a hand on his chin, "I see them dirty little bum kids, playing in fire hydrants, stealing from venders, I see them.. Wearing their Hiro shirts, worshiping this man," Softly he says this, as if confused, bewildered, "Idolizing, this man.." He points the mic at Hiro.

"This man, who if he were born fifty, sixty years ago? Would have been polishing my boots. A man who, if all were right in the world, would be working for the WWE:E," He pauses, looking the fan favorite dead in the eyes, "As a janitor," He scowls, spitting out the insults, "This mut, this mixed breed, this impure man! Holding back good boys like me and Bader! And what do you people do? You eat it up! It made me sick, sick to my stomach," The fans chant what.

"I said it made me sick to my stomach!" He snaps back even louder at the crowd, before stopping to calm himself down a little bit. He blinks a few times, stopping to take deep breaths. "So, you know what I did?" They again, chant what, this time he handles it a little better. "I didn't do what you slobs woulda' done. Nu-uh! I took action:"

"I hired Jamie Bader,"

He tilts his chin up in pride, Freakshow was more than a mystery partner. He was a conspirator. A string puller, a schemer, any intelligent fan saw it coming from the moment he came out. "That's right, I hired Jamie Bader, I hired him to cleanse WWE:E of no-good scum like Hiro," Again, the theatrical blonde pauses, allowing it to process for the fans who he felt had a little less in the brains department. Actually, from Freaks point of view, everyone was dumber than him. But lets not get into that, then we'd have to talk about his childhood, therapy stuff.

"Pretty good plan huh?" Freakshow smirks to himself, the trail of slime practically visible from the ramp to the ring. "A master plan, I dare say," His smirk turns into a frown rather quickly, "There was just one problem," He points the finger towards none other than Mr. Kelly King. "And thats you, Kelly King,"

His eyes narrowing, the mustachio'd New Yorker glares at the Icon. "That's right, Kelly King, the legend," The bitterness palpable in his voice as he stands across from the arguably far more successful pro. "I'd like to say you were a bump in the road, collateral, yadda yadda, blah blah,, but I'm gunna be honest with you King. I just don't like you,"

He claps his hands together, ready to let out some steam on a man that he had literally never been in the same ring with. "Particularly, I don't like the way you've been dodging me my entire career! Fear, King, legit fear!" Some fans let out boo's, some of them laugh at the notion, "I don't like your moves? What is that? The Shoal? What are you a whale? I don't like you ring gear. Really, the only thing I like about you.."

He turns away from King, looking directly at the camera, "Is your daughter," Slowly his licks the corner of his mouth, rubbing at his chest, tugging at the neckerchief around his own neck. Quickly he gets back on topic.

Freakshow on instinct drops the mic and takes a couple steps towards the middle of the ring! There isn't much else he can do as the wrathful Hiro pounces ontop of the greasy New Yorker. He legs fly up into the air as he hits the ground back first, puts his arms up and curls his knees up. The fans weren't huge Hiro fans, but they most certainly had little fondness for Freak. As the blonde is clipped with shots, curled up like a b***h to protect himself he whines:

"ACK! Bader! HELP-!" To this sight the Cuban-Jap gets a better reaction than he had in quite sometime, it came with the natural catharsis of seeing the big mouthed vet shut down to size in a matter of seconds. Instant karma, if you will.

The shots began to rain down on the head of Hiro, as the small-but-quick Jamie Bader was able to get him off Freak. The hits forced Hiro to the mat, but he quickly turned onto his back, and tried to kick Jamie Bader away! Now would be a great time for Kelly King to get involved!

Jamie didn't care what the ref was saying about Freak. Jamie never cared much for the stripey shirted fool anyway. He continued to pound on the bigger male as the ref tried to get this match officially started!

Jamie had no problems with starting the match for his team.

Freakshow cups at the side of his face, surprised at how much Hiro had to offer in the beating up Freak department. He scoots on his butt back towards the ropes, quickly out to the apron with the intent of licking his wounds. "Damn, damn.." He says while checking his lip, his nose, hoping that his b-movie good looks remained untarnished. "Get that punk Jamie!" He shouts from his kneeling position at the apron.

Freakshows jaw hangs as Bader is spat on! In the eye, nonetheless. He was both disgusted, and a little impressed with Hiro's aim in that department. He meets his partners hand with the tag, springs himself into the ring and makes a beeline straight for the still hurt cuban. Just as the man makes it up to his feet, Freak would try grabbing him around the neck in a cravate, a hold that he would use to drag him to the middle of the ring to execute a snapmare.

If the snapmare were succesful, he would follow up by raining down stomps to the arms, torso, head, wherever, of Hiro. "Dirty-" He would say inbetween each stomp, "No good mutt!"