Scott Steiner swung his arms back and forth as he waited for his music to start. He'd already heard that Harvard bitch go down to the ring, much to the booing of the fans. A few seconds later, he heard his own voice loudly amplified.
"HOLLA, IF YA HEAR ME!" The police siren started, and the fans started cheering loudly. He walked up the steps, pushed aside the small curtain, and walked out into the large arena.
He had never been able to get over walking down the ramp and heading to the ring, and listening to the masses cheer for him. This was what sort of gave him the flow of adrenaline, and made him want to perform well that night. He had no intentions of letting these people down. He curled his arm and showed off the bicep, and kissed it in his own little vain way of showing off. Chris Nowinski shifted nervously and scratched his ass.
Steiner walked up the steel steps and into the ring, only to be attacked by Nowinski. He shrugged the little bitch off of him, and grabbed his arm. Throwing him against the ropes, he clotheslined him. Nowinksi was down before the music had gone off. Steiner picked him back up, and prepared to put him in his body press, but decided to taunt him a little. He threw him into the turnbuckle, and started doing push-ups. The fans loved this stuff. So did he.
But then he heard that stupid voice. "Hold on, Steiner." Grenier said in his broken English. The crowd instantly started booing the two French people. "You see, you Americans," he sneered, "are so easy to trick. You see, you people ignore the smart people in this business and go straight for the one with the most muscles." The fans boos grew louder.
"You want me? You think you can take me on? Get your French ass down here, bitch!" His voice was lost among the fans.
"Hold on, Steiner. We're not finished." Grenier said. "I want to say--"
"SHUT UP, YOU FRENCH DUMB-ASS." A voice blared out of a several speakers in the arena.
"King, what'd you do?" JR said, looking at King.
"Don't ask me, I didn't do it." King said. "Looks like we got Uncle Sam in here."
"Who's doing that?" Dupre screamed into the microphone.
"I SAID SHUT UP." The fans laughed at the Frenchmen, who felt like 2 small child being told a lesson by an adult. "WHO WANTS TO KNOW WHO I AM?"
"I--"
"I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU." The voice interrupted. "WILL ANYONE WHO HATES THESE GUYS LIKE TO KNOW WHO I AM?"
The fans screamed, "YES!"
"I AM WHO YOU ARE NOT. I DO WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU DON'T. I'M THE ONE PERSON YOU DON'T WANT TO MESS WITH. I'M THE GUY YOU BUMP INTO AS YOU WALK DOWN THE STREET. THIS IS WHO I AM; I AM ANONYMOUS."
The crowd didn't say anything. They'd never heard of this guy before, but couldn't tell if this was someone they already knew or not.
"AND I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU." He concluded, and the lights of the entire arena went off. The crowd screamed in half-panic, half enthusiasm.
Grenier and Dupre both felt like pissing themselves as they turned around, waiting to see if they could catch a glimpse of the curtain moving and this Anonymous walked in. Dupre heard a thump.
"Grenier?" He said.
"Vous êtes baisés." He heard a voice say. Then he really pissed himself. It was French for "You're fucked." Then, he heard a dull thump, and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
---
Dupre moaned in pain as he woke up, feeling the huge knot in the back of his head. "I'd suggest staying off your feet for the rest of the night and go to your hotel room. It looks like someone hit you in the back of the head with either a base-ball bat or a monkey-wrench." The on-hand doctor said.
Grenier moaned and sat up on his own stretcher. "We can't. We have a match tonight."
"Well, try to find a way out of it." The doctor said, putting some ice in 2 bags.
"We can't. That co-general manager Steve Austin won't let us do anything." Dupre said. "Fucking American."
"Hey." The doctor said, throwing the bag of ice and hitting Dupre between the legs. "I'm American, and I'm not going to stand here and take that shit in the face. Get your French Asses out of here."
Dupre hobbled out of the room, followed by Grenier. A cameraman waked passed them as they left the room. "Get out of my way." Dupre said, shoving the cameraman aside into another room.
The cameraman watched the 2 wrestlers walk down the hall, and turned into the room with the doctor.
"Are they gone yet?" They heard a whisper in the shadow.
"Yeah." The doctor said.
"Good." The whisper said. The camera guy looked down as the man walked out of the adjacent room. He had been there the whole time. Everyone who was watching the Titration let out a sigh of disappointment that they had not seen the face of the man. But they saw everything from the shoulders down. It was someone big. Someone very big.