Backstage, Vince reclined in his chair, his palm dragging down the expanse of his face. Brocke's promo was just as raw as the crowd. Although Vince didn't mean that kindly. There was no doubt the large man was motivated, but with every unanswered word, Vince could feel his stomach tighten up.
"Ugh," Vince offered under his breath. "He sounds like he is chewing rocks."
Mark Rivera, sitting next to you with a headset frozen in place over his head, shook his head. "You're too much. For him? That was great. He isn't supposed to be fluid. He is supposed to sound like a blunt instrument. Fans apparently seem to love that shit."
Vince could accept that Mark had a BETTER way of looking at it, at least for this world. No one here had ten years of polished mic skills. However, for Vince, a man from another world where promos could make or break an audience member's interest in a brand or exposure, Brocke's, "clumsy" "squirrel" feel was nails on a chalkboard. Yet, it was baby steps (to quote another famous speech).
"Fine," Vince sighed. "But, let's harness that energy before he puts the crowd to sleep. What's your call?"
Mark's eyes danced with a glimmer of mischief. He pressed the button on his microphone and spoke right into the ear of the ringside officials. "Tell Noah to announce a match. Steel Titans versus Apex Predators. Right now."
Down at ringside, the Apex Predators and Steel Titans were mere inches away from impact, the tension in the air was heavy enough to cut with a knife. Noah cupped his hands over his ear piece and raised his voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been handed a message from backstage!" The crowd dimmed from cheering into a curious hush. "By order of the management, tonight we will have a tag team match, the Steel Titans... against the Apex Predators!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. The fans wanted to see physicality, and they were finally getting what they wanted.
Inside the ring, both teams actually look pleased. Brocke pounded his chest, signaling to the fans, while Marcus tossed a cocky smirk at Cal. A referee slid into the ring and gestured for both teams to head into their corners.
The starting bell sounded. Marcus initiated the match for the Predators while circling slowly as Brocke moved lumbering toward him. Brocke attempted to lunge, throwing a huge clothesline, only for Marcus to duck beneath it and jump behind him to land a sharply delivered kick to the back of the knee.
The strike barely seemed to knock Brocke off balance.
Marcus attempted to strike Brocke again, and again, and again, only to have the big man repeat the action of gritting his teeth. Then after considering his situation for a second, Brocke reached forward grabbed Marcus with one massive hand, driving him with the other still in the corner, and began to pound him with big fists.
"Brocke, just mauling him!" Noah screamed slowly into his mic as if there were some sort of a delay in either access to the sound or on his end. "Marcus can't escape!"
"Hey, you have to give Marcus some credit! He asked for this fight, and now he's beginning to get every pound of it," Irvin mused darkly.
Brocke tagged in his partner Hunter, who entered the ring charging like a ram. Both Titans grabbed Marcus by the arms and whipped him into the ropes. When Marcus returned to them, both Titans kicked him directly in the chest, forcing him to the mat.
Hunter went for the pin. One! Two! Marcus kicked out, groaning.
From the audience, Luke Hart leapt up, both arms raised in the air. "Come on! That' s how you do it!" he bellowed as his words were washed over by chants echoing through the arena.
Beside him, Tony chuckled. "Easy there – the Predators are not going down like that."
In the ring, the Titans continued their attack. Quick tags kept the formidable Marcus trapped in their corner – every unrelenting double slam and suplex moved Marcus one step further from making a tag with Cal. Brocke stomped Marcus forcefully onto the mat and went for another pin - one, two, and another kickout.
But scrappy Marcus would not break.
Finally, after being whipped into the ropes, Marcus ducked under Brocke's massive grip and dove forward, extending an arm. The crowd momentarily rose, and erupted into cheers as he tagged in Cal.
Cal sprung over the ropes in one swift motion, quickening to the titan–then leaps off his feet sky-high; his boots smashed squarely in Brocke's chest like a flying dropkick. The giant staggered back, visibly appalled by the attack.
"Whoa! Look at Cal fly!" shouted Noah excitedly. "He's never done that before!"
The audience erupted. Cal didn't hesitate. He bounded off the ropes and caught Brocke with a running clothesline that sent him stumbling over the top rope and crashing down to the floor below. The place erupted in cheers.
And Cal didn't stop there, he bolted across the ring to the ropes. This time he left his feet on a jump that sailed him clear over the top rope. In mid-air, he twisted and landed with a thud on Brocke. The audience went completely bonkers.
"Oh my God! Cal Predators with a dive!" Noah bellowed. "I've never seen him go to the skies like that!"
Cal popped back up to his feet, breathing heavy, and raised his arms above his head into a triumphant T-pose. The crowd hooked and cheered, their hatred towards him, for just a second, changing to awe.
Luke almost spilled his drink he was whooping so much. "This is insane! I didn't think a tag match could be this entertaining!"
Tony snorted. "You're just easy to impress." Even he would admit, eyes wide, "That was insane."
Cal rolled into the ring, confidence pouring from every step. But as he got to his feet, Hunter charged across the ring.
The Steel Titan swung his arm like a guillotine—smashing Cal with a devastating clothesline that turned him inside out. The crowd gasped at the sheer impact.
Noah's voice cracked with excitement. "Good lord! Cal just got flattened!"
Irvin barked a laugh. "That's what happens when you strut around, boy. The Titans don't wait their turn."
Normally, the non-legal man would've been forced out, but tonight the referee wasn't being strict. The chaos only made the match hotter.
Cal writhed on the mat, clutching his chest, while Hunter loomed above him, roaring to the crowd. The arena was on its feet, electricity coursing through every corner.