The scene opens to reveal the Technicians in their hotel room, packing their bags for the trip to Canada for next week's Epic. But they're going to swing through Philly first- after all, it has been a week since they've gotten any lovins and dammit, yesterday was Valentines Day! They can't help it, their only human.
So with that in mind, the Electrician puts his loss to Heath Newton behind him, and seems to be in good spirits. Heath surprised the Electrician at Epic and really challenged him, and despite losing, he fought a hard match and the Electrician feels that Heath has earned a little bit of respect. That doesn't mean that Heath is the new Messiah, because after all Hawkeye is the only true Messiah; but the Electrician will give him a bit of respect. The rookie earned it. We join in on a previously initiated conversation.
M: ...so don't feel bad about it.
E: Mech, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't feel bad about it!
M: Oh yeah. Anyway, ya ready to get some?
E: Get off me!
M: Not from me you sick (bleep)! From Krista!
E: Am I ever not ready?
M: Phh, I dunno. It's your boner, not mine.
E: Ahh crap!
M: What?
The Electrician points to the camera.
M: *in a dull voice* Oh, yay. I'll try to restrain my enthusiasm.
E: Shut up! Let's just do this.
M: Right.
The Technicians grab their Tag Title belts and sling them over their shoulders. They stand side-by-side in front of the camera as it refocuses on them. Naturally, the Electrician kicks it off.
E: Well well well... if it isn't our good, cowardly buddies the Stylish Rogues. The very b(bleep)es that attacked my brother like children. Just goes to show that jealousy is the ugliest of all emotions.
M: Damn straight. But just be warned Rogues, you're ours at Epic this week, and we will not let you get away so easily. In fact, I think we're pretty much set to make you regret ever screwing with us.
E: Definitely. We're going to torture you, we're going to make you cry, and we're going to make you scream at the top of your lungs for mommy. But that's the best part- your mother won't be there to witness your demise. Well, maybe Tripahomo's will, but as weak as he is, I seriously doubt his mom could do us any harm. Unless she's 7 feet tall and 300 pounds... then maybe she could. In which case I'd be running for my life.
M: That makes two of us. I still remember that day when we swore to never let a woman taller than us get anywhere near us.
E: Shyeah. Good times.
M: Anyway, Trupaneck and Shooter, you should seriously consider what you've gotten yourselves into. With the exception of one match, you're going up against the very team that's never lost. And yes, Trupaneck, I know you're going to shove it in our faces about how you and that no-account jobber who's name I can't remember beat us for the titles at Dead on Arrival, but it's different this time around. It's different because we say it is. It's different because this time, we actually have a reason to want to crush you, and crush you we will.
E: Ya got that right. At some point I'd like to squash your testicles under my boot, but I don't see it happening. It's hard to purposely crush what you can't see.
M: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA.....
SLAP!!!
E: Would you shut the (bleep) up I'm trying to be intimidating over here!
M: *rubbing his cheek* Sorry... sheesh!
E: Well now you've just ruined it. I hope you're happy with yourself!
M: I am!
E: Shut your stupid face poody.
M: I told you. Don't... call... me...
E: Poody?
M: GRAAHHHHH!
Punch! Chop! Kick! You're a great rapper! I mean, uhh... scene fades to black.
Disclaimer: No persons were injured during the writing of this RP. Parrapa the Rapper sued the Technicians for copyright infringement and won a 30,000 dollar lawsuit and Sobe's trademark Lizard for their soda Mr. Green ate a bug, but other than that, the end is nigh.