Wevv's Inferno Return

A limousine pulls up in front of the arena. An attractive brunette steps out of the driver’s side and heads to the passenger side. She opens the door.  Smoke pours from the murky depths, amid the sounds of music and ladies giggling. The driver coughs politely. A man in a fine, hand tailored Italian suit steps out. He is followed by a large Oriental man in an old-fashioned tuxedo and bowler hat. Two ladies stand up in the sunroof, and a third leans out the door.
Man: Excuse me ladies, but business calls.
The man straightens his tie, and brushes off his suit.
Driver: Um, excuse me sir? (She points to the side of her face)
Man: Eh?
He brushes the side of his face, missing the lipstick marks.
Driver: No, over, here, let me.
The driver pulls out a handkerchief, licks the end of it, and wipes the side of the man’s face.
Man: Thank you Madison. What would I do without you? This shouldn't take long. Just keep the car running. We may need to leave in a hurry.
The man looks over at his companion, who is holding the hands of a third lady leaning out of the door. He’s making kissy faces at her.
Man: AHEM! Are you ready?
The Oriental man snaps to attention and bows, smiling.
Man: Let’s go.
The man starts to walk towards the building. The Oriental man hurries over to the trunk of the limo and grabs a large object. He smiles at Madison, and then hurries to catch up to his employer. The two men approach the security guards outside the employee entrance.
Guard: Excuse me sir, PWA personnel only.
Man: Do you know who I am?
Guard: No, should I?
The man narrows his eyes, and makes a gesture with his hand. The Oriental man shifts the object in his grasp, and strikes with deadly precision. The guard crumples. His partner tries to pull a billy-club from his belt, but is knocked out by the foot of the man in the bowler hat. A third guard lands one punch, knocking the hat askew, before he too crumples to the ground in a heap. The Oriental man stands above his handiwork, while the man in the suit looks on, smirking. He then reaches over and adjusts the bowler hat on his henchman’s head.
Man: You’re rusty Kenzo. Come on, there’s little time.
The Oriental man opens the door, shifting the weight of the object as he does so. The man in the suit enters the building. As he walks the back hallways, conversations stop, and people stare. The man pays no heed. Ahead, a man is complaining to a cameraman.
Roscoe McQueen: How could they hire that lunatic to do my job? Don't they know it takes a degree of professionalism that  - HOLY!
Roscoe does a double take as he sees the man in the Italian suit and his Oriental companion walked quickly towards the Gorilla position.
Roscoe: Is that?!? Fucking A! This will get me my job back! EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME SIR! CAN I GET A WORD WITH –
The man in the suit doesn't break stride. He merely makes another gesture towards the approaching Roscoe. The Oriental man swerves, and grabs a can of pop from a shocked wrestler’s hand and throws it. The projectile strikes Roscoe. Right between the eyes, knocking him out cold. The man in the suit turns his head slightly and raises an eyebrow. The Oriental man smirks. The man in the suit chuckles, and shakes his head and keeps moving, past the crew trying to revive Roscoe.
Finally the man reaches the production area right outside the main curtain. The crew jumps as they notice who has joined them.
Tech: Pan left camera two! Get a shot of that sign! Good! Camera three, HOLY SHIT! I mean, sorry sir, I didn't see you there, very busy, you can see, and what can I do for you.
Man: Cut the announcers mics, and cue the music on this disc. And when I signal, start track 2.
The Oriental gentleman reaches into his front coat pocket and pulls out a CD in a jewel case.
Man: You have ten seconds. I’m going out.
Tech: But sir! We’re not ready! You can't -
Man: I WHAT? Eight seconds!
The tech scrambles to obey. The man takes his position before the curtain. In the background, he hears Snapple and Marion over the tech’s headsets, asking what is going on. The man takes a deep breath. 3 – 2 – 1.
“Obie Trice Names! No Gimmicks!”
A guitar riff plays.
Man: Showtime!
In the arena, the crowd goes silent. They know this music. But they never expected to hear it again, and certainly no here.
Is it a joke? Is it a trick?
And then he appears on the top of the ramp, smiling. And then his shadow appears behind him, and they know it’s not a joke or a trick and they erupt in cheers.
Wevv Mang and Mr. Wang make their way down to the ring. Wevv is smiling and walking quickly. Behind him, Mr. Wang keeps pace, holding the Owners Cup above his head, so that the hastily thrown spotlights catch it and make it shine and glitter.
Wevv enters the ring, and smirks. Mr. Wang circles the ring, and grabs a microphone. He slides into the ring, and hands it to Wevv, as the chants grow in volume. Wevv takes the mic, as Mr. Wang cradles the Owner’s Cup.
Wevv: PWA! Did you miss me?
A dueling chant breaks out.
Crowd: WELCOME BACK!
Crowd: YOU SUCK!
Crowd: WELCOME BACK!
Crowd: YOU SUCK!
Wevv: Ah, you remember me. I’m touched. Truly. But I am not here to cater to your whims. Time is short! IT seems that I’m not too welcome in this country, and I have so much to say. It will just have to wait until we get to…friendlier territory!
The crowd cheers.
Wevv: But before I go, I do have a very special message.
Wevv calls for a spotlight and gets one. Music starts to play. A humble mandolin and tambourine.
Wevv starts to speak:
Wevv: With so much drama in the P – W - A
Its kinda hard bein' Wevv M – A – N - G
But I, somehow, some way
Keep comin' up with funky ass shit every single day
May I, kick a little something for the g's
And, make a few friends as I breeze, through
Eight in the evenin’ and the show is still jumpin'
Cause your Daddy came home
I got bitches in the limo, gettin' it on
And, they ain't leavin' til the plane touch down!
So what you wanna do?
I own stock in a company that makes rubbers and Mr. Wang does too
So cue the lights and close the doors
But (but what) we don't love them hoes, yeah!
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
G’s up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
Rollin down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' L'Esprit de Courvoisier
Mr. Wang: Laid back 
Wevv: With my mind on my company and my company on my mind
Wevv: Now, that, I got me some Courvoisier shipped in,
Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in
Now this types of shit, happens all the time
You gotta get yours
(Wevv leans in, and puts his face next to the Owners Cup)
 But I got mine!!
Wevv: Everything is fine when if listenin' to the M – A – N - G
I got the cultivating voice that be captivating ye
Who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street
And get to talkin’ to this bitch named Shorty
She used to be the Wildcard’s Lady?
Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please
Raise up off these n-u-ts, cause you gets none of these
At ease, as I mob with the Wevv pound, feel the breeze
Bitches, I’m just
Rollin down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' L'Esprit de Courvoisier 
With my mind on my company and my company on my mind
As the music breaks into a jam, Wevv and Mr. Wang do a little arm-swinging jig. Finally, as the jam keeps playing, Wevv stops, and says:
Wevv: So Long Boston! Next Stop! AUSTRALIA! Are you ready Pyro? Wevvy is back in business! Heh. Heh. Heh.
With that, Wevv drops the mic and rolls out of the ring, and hurries up the ramp, Mr. Wang and the Owner’s Cup right behind him. As they pass through the curtain, Mr. Wang takes the lead, brushing past anxious and curious spectators, allowing Wevv to move quickly down the hallway and out the door. The door slams shut behind him, and the squealing of tires heralds the rapidly approaching limo.
As the car skids to stop right in front of Wevv and Mr. Wang, and Mr. Wang opens the door, Wevv speaks again.
Wevv: I thought that went rather well, didn't you Kenzo? MADISON! TO THE AIRPORT!
Wevv and Mr. Wang get in the back of the limo, and as the door shuts, the limo speeds off into the night.