Vince sat in the large comfy seat in the back of his limousine, thinking about what he was going to do. He was on the way to the arena where SmackDown was to be held at, and had no "game" plan as to Enigma's threat. Every possible idea came and went in his brain, until he came up with a desperate one: diplomacy.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed Stone Cold Steve Austin's number. Austin picked it up on the other line, belching loudly into the receiver. "Who is it?"
"It's Vince."
"What the hell do you want?"
"You know where I can reach Anonymous?"
"Why, you think he runs an illegal telephone prostitution chain?" Austin asked.
"I'll ask him that. You have the number?"
"Yeah." Austin gave him the number and hung up. Vince called Anonymous, who didn't answer. He put his cell phone back in his pocket, which started ringing as soon as he put it away.
"Hello?" Vince asked.
"You just called, right Vince?"
"Yeah. Why didn't you answer?"
"I never do. What do you want?"
"I was wondering, do you run an illegal telephone prostitution chain?"
"I'm considering it. What else?"
"Listen, Anonymous. Let's talk this over. You don't have to kill me, we can settle this diplomatically. Hold on." Vince paused to yell at the driver. "What the hell're you going so fast for, you got to shit or something?"
"Sorry, sir." The driver mumbled. Car horns were blaring outside the limo as it tore down the highway. Vince practically stood up to look over the driver's shoulder, and saw the speedometer. It had surpassed 140, and was slowly, almost reluctantly, going down under 100. Vince sat back down, and the driver quickly resumed the speed it had been at previously.
"So what do you say?" Vince continued his conversation with Anonymous.
"I say I spit on your offer. You've earned what you've got coming." Anonymous said.
"You're going to regret that. You'll regret all this shit you're doing!" Vince yelled, his voice rising louder.
"Hey Vince. You know your entrance theme? Let me quote it: 'You've got no chance in hell'!" And the phone hung up. Vince flipped the phone closed, his face pale.
"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" The driver asked, not waiting for Vince to answer. He pushed in a CD, and hit play on the first track. 2 seconds into the song Vince began to like it.
"Hey what is this?" 4 seconds
"It's called Farsa Del Buen Vivir." 6 seconds
"Turn it up. Who made this?" 8 seconds
"Merzbow*." The driver said, turning the volume up until the car shook from the vibrations. The limo lurched forward suddenly, throwing Vince, who hadn't been wearing his seat belt like all good little boys should, violently forward. "Sorry, traffic jam." Vince ignored him, and turned back to the song.
At the 11th second, Vince realized that was the guy, Masami Akita**, that did Enigma's entrance music. As it got to the 12th second, pure chaotic noise engulfed the limousine as glorious noise tightly grabbed Vince's brain and violently tore at his eardrums. Drivers in cars beside the limo started to honk, a few even yelled for him to turn it up.
"TURN IT DOWN, DAMMIT!" Vince yelled.
"You just told me to turn it up!" The Driver said back calmly.
"TURN THAT SHIT DOWN!" Vince was covering his ears, feeling a liquid pouring from them.
"Ok, jeez, sorry. I though you liked it." The Driver said, and turned the volume off.
Vince looked angrily at the driver, whose face he couldn't see. "What dumpster did this fuck-up crawl out of?" He asked himself, not caring if the driver heard.
"Isn't that the enigma?" The driver mumbled.
"What was that?" Vince yelled at him.
"Nothing, sir." The driver sneered, and closed the automatic glass window. Now that Vince couldn't see him, Enigma took off his hat. He brushed his long hair back out of his face, and turned into the garage area to leave the car halfway in.
He opened the door, and got out. The fans didn't recognize him without his mask, and thought that he was just a messed-up looking limo driver.
***
Vince sat in the car, waiting for the limo to go forward. "Shit, we've been stuck in this damn traffic for almost 14 minutes. What the hell's going on up there?" He yelled in frustration and tried to look outside the dark-tinted windows. He angrily opened the door, and found himself in the parking lot.
He went up to the driver's door, and pulled it open. Inside, the driver was missing. In his seat was a small note:
"I am the clueless riddle. I am the anomalous mystery. I am the question with no answer. I am that 'fuck-up' driver you wondered about but don't really know. This is who I am; I am the Enigma."
***
*- Yet again, I can't help but bring in a static-song. It's cool for 11 seconds, and then the static starts.
**- In my last fic, I said his real name was Yasami Akita, but I meant Masami Akita. I was wrong.
