[LOS ANGELES] (7) Olvir Arsvinnar vs. (3) Stylin' Kyle Roberts

[TH]

Regional semifinal matchup held at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, CA.

One fall to a finish, no time limit, all regular rules apply. Deadline is Friday, April 25th @ 11:59:59 PM EDT, give or take a second.

 

[Jago]

(Stanford, California. Backstage in the first round of the TEAM International Tournament, Stylin' Kyle Roberts is hanging around backstage with a member of the crew.)

KYLE ROBERTS: I don't know. Sure, it's TEAM, and that means we see a crapload of indy wrestling superstars here, but I'm not feeling that wowed here. There's nobody with that "It Factor." Nobody that is really catching my interest. It's just a bunch of lame-os.

(All of a sudden, a man walks by that Kyle can't help but look at. He's large, muscular, and has cascading blonde hair.)

KYLE ROBERTS: (agog) By the hammer of Thor! (turning to the crew member) Who is that?

CREW: Oh, him? That's, um.. Olvir. Olvir Arsvinnar.

KYLE ROBERTS: And he's up next?

CREW: Guess so.

KYLE ROBERTS: Man, I've GOTTA watch this!

(Kyle rushes over and pokes his head through the curtain.)

* * *

(In the second round of the TIT, Kyle Roberts is in his dressing room. He notices the camera on him.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Oh, hey. Man, the TEAM Invitational Tournament. What a ride. Well, sort of. Sure, there's a lot of big indy names around here, but it's like a lame dinner party at times. People having nothing in common, asked to mingle and have fun. But nobody really wants to say much, right?

But last round, I came across a hidden gem in the wrestling world. A wrestler that broke the mold. A pornographic viking. And really, can you get much better than that for a gimmick? Sure, some people might say that Olvir is all brawl and no finesse, but that's because they're just looking at him fron the same ol' point of view. But me?

I see something special.

(Kyle pulls a t-shirt out of his duffel bag and pulls it over his head. It reads "Vikings are AWESOME!")

KYLE ROBERTS: Maybe it's my Scandinavian heritage that's making me proud of this guy. Maybe it's because he's come across a genius gimmick. He rapes! He pillages! He kicks ass in the ring! Man, if only I had the foresight to see this kind of gimmick for myself. I might have been able to pull it off. Maybe. But that doesn't matter now. I've seen the light, and his name's Olvir Arsvinnar.

I've seen the videos, and all I can say is "Wow." I mean, I don't mean to gush here, but when I saw "Olvir's Magic Hammer IV," I was amazed. They had this one looong camera shot that went unedited for fifteen minutes. FIFTEEN MINUTES! You know how hard it is to do that? One mistake at the very end, and they have to go from the beginning again! It was like I was watching "There Will Be Blood," all over again, but instead of Daniel Day-Lewis confronting that mute kid from Little Miss Sunshine, it was, well, viking porn.

But still! Fifteen minutes without an edit? Wow! I could have done without the TV in the background on the shot, since it kind of took me out of the mindset that this was 1400s Norway, but hey, suspension of disbelief and all.

(Kyle pulls a plastic Norse helmet out of his bag, followed by a replica Mjolnir hammer.)

KYLE ROBERTS: So from this moment forward, I'm on the Olvir bandwagon! I will support him every match he's in! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wish him luck.

(Kyle exits the locker room, the camera following behind him, giving a full view of the back of Kyle's shirt, which says "I {heart} Olvir Arsvinnar." He gets to the gorilla position, where the same crrew member from last week is sitting.)

CREW: You just missed him. He's in the ring already.

KYLE ROBERTS: Hey, I just beat Dez Carter, so I'll be back next round. And then I can watch his next match. It'll be glorious, right?

CREW: Whatever you say, buddy.

(From the ring, you hear crunches and knocks. Kyle pokes his head out.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Oooh. VICIOUS Mjolnir Blow! And the pinfall? EXCELLENT! Oh, here he comes!

(Kyle scrambles out of the way as Olvir enters through the curtain, a woman over his shoulder.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Oh, my god, Olvir, that was great! You totally clobbered Shawn Hart, and now you're on to the next round!

(Olvir walks past him, totally oblivious to the gushing Kyle.)

KYLE ROBERTS: You think he noticed me? I'm sure he noticed me! Man, next week's going to be awesome!

CREW: So you beat Dez, and he beat Shawn. Looks like you're his next opponent.

(This seems to break through to Kyle. And a look of shock develops over the face of Stylin' Kyle Roberts.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Ye gods.

(Abrupt cut to black.)

 

[RStrawsma]

Valhalla Productions 204 - All Hands On D*ck

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(Fade in on a long shot of Stanford University at night. Of course, you could hardly tell what time of day it is with the sky lit up in a brilliant shade of red from the numerous administration buildings set ablaze (and not just the Office of Admissions this time around). Far off in the distance, we can hear the wail of sirens from approaching fire engines… and somewhere below that, something that resembles the euphoric sighs of numerous college women. Obviously, we are seeing a college town in the aftermath of a ferocious pillager’s arrival, and no doubt, many of the women we hear calling his name in yearning were at some point introduced to his infamous might. Could you imagine those dozens of superior-minded Stanford University maidens birthing an entire generation of genius bastards with the strength of a hundred men?)

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

VALHALLA PRODUCTION COMPANY​

Presents​

(Off in the distance, emerging from the sacked city, the camera spies a pair of approaching headlights streaking down the nearby road. In moments, we can make out the shape of a taxi cab in quick pursuit. Meanwhile, the camera turns to the source of the pulsating bumps you’re no doubt wondering about right now… only to find them emanating from the gargantuan, land-based dragon ship belonging to the nefarious Butt-Dominator, which slowly departs from the destroyed university. It isn’t long before the approaching cab pulls up alongside the vessel and slows its speed to keep pace. A familiar face sudden emerges from the passenger side window… as Terry “The Idol” Anderson PULLS his upper body out of the car and holds up the mic in his hand, looking a bit flushed at the situation in hand.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Good evening, fans of TEAM! No doubt, you’re probably asking yourselves right now just what in the HELL I’m doing… and believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing!

OLVIR ARSVINNAR​

In​

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
You see, with the TEAM Invitational Tournament leaving Stanford University for the Staples Center in Los Angeles, this trustworthy journalist finds himself in a bit of a dilemma, being I’m too broke-ass poor to afford a bus ticket down to the south end of the state. Having no other option, I’m going to see if my focus contender of this tournament would be willing to offer me a ride.

Unfortunately, said contender wasted no time in leaving the town of Stanford following his, uh… “dominance,” which puts me in my current situation.

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(Terry turns from the camera, which is having no trouble keeping pace with both slow moving vehicles, to the land-roving ship, calling for attention.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Hey… HEY!! DOWN HERE!!

(A moment passes before two stubby horns appear over the edge, soon followed by a pair of small hands that help lift one of Olvir’s trusty dwarven servants to a height that allows him to peer down at the flailing reporter below.)

Dwarven Servant
What, ho! Man overboard! Somebody get the ladder!

"ALL HANDS ON D*CK"​

​

(The tiny Viking disappears for a few seconds, before a rope ladder is tossed over the side. The cab pulls in close enough for Terry to grab ahold of the lower rung, and he looks back to the driver of his own transport.)

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Uh, say buddy, how much do I owe you?

Cabbie
Fifteen flat, Mac.

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
FIFTEEN?! We only went a mile!

Cabbie
Hey, I don’t do fancy-shmancy stunts like this without an insurance policy, so cough it up, bucko.

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(Grumbling, the reporter reaches into his extremely shallow pocket and pulls out a wad of crumbled singles, which he tosses back into the cab before reaching for the first rung of the ladder. He gets a firm grip with his hands, but doesn’t quite have his legs all the way out when the driver suddenly spots his fare and lets out a colorful curse word.)

Cabbie
You cheap-ass son-of-a—

(The taxi suddenly swerves away from the ship without warning, and Anderson audibly YELPS as he is FLUNG from the moving vehicle’s window and slams HARD into the side of the wooden drekkar, tightly clutching the ladder with both hands while his feet flails and kick wildly beneath him.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
OHCRAPOHCRAPOHCRAP!!!

(Kicking, flailing, and contorting like a man meeting his fate at the gallows, Anderson finally manages to pull his legs onto the bottom rung and steady himself. Cursing, he throws a scowl back at the cab driver, finding a middle finger pointed right at him before the taxi speeds off and disappears down the road. Grumbling, the reporter ascends the rest of the ladder and climbs aboard the ship, being greeted by the same dwarven servant that hailed him ealier.)

Dwarven Servant
Greetings, herald, to the ship of the Almighty Butt-Dominator!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Phew… hey, thanks for the lift. You guys wouldn’t mind me tagging along on the road to Hollywood, would you?

Dwarven Servant
Eh… the Great Olvir seems to like you enough, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(Terry takes in the scene on deck. As one would normally see on a Nordic longboat, two rows of benches flanking the mast stretch across the length of the vessel, occupied by various other midgets in Viking attire. Facing the back of the ship, their tiny hands turn a series of oar handles in mechanical orderliness to the rhythm of the large cattle-hide drum being beaten upon by the munchkin way in the back, presumably the overseer as given since he has maybe three or four inches over the remaining little people on board.)

Dwarven Overseer
Faster, you slobs! We gotta get to L.A. by Friday!

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(The thumping continues with every hit of his mallet upon the drum. Straining even more, the midget oarsmen push themselves even more. Further inspection of the “oars” reveals them not to be oars at all, but rather winches that turn a series of gears, undoubtedly controlling the mechanics that make the vehicle move without the use of an engine. Terry releases a whistle… perhaps awestruck at the amount of engineering know-how to pull this off, or maybe just amazed to see so many midgets engaged in manual labor.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Manual labor? Man, no wonder you guys were going so slow. I thought this thing had a diesel engine in it!

Dwarven Servant
You seen the prices at the pump lately? Psh, yeah… screw that. We’re on a budget man.

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(The overseer takes a second to glance at his wristwatch and ceases his drumming.)

Dwarven Overseer
Okay… time for a ten minute break. Smoke if you got ‘em.

(The crew let out a collective sigh of relief and relax themselves. The drumming has stopped, and yet…)

*BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!... BUMP!*

(…a steady thumping continues to be heard. Terry looks around, confused.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Where the hell is that noise coming from?

(The midget says nothing, but instead flashes a wry smile and points straight down… below deck. The quarters of the Great Endowed One known as OLVIR.)

*BUMP! BUMP! BUMP! BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!*

(Over the pounding, we can hear the faint sound of a woman moaning in pleasure.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Oh… dang. I guess he’s busy doing his regular thing, huh? Well, you think he’d mind if I interrupted him for a minute to get a few words?

Dwarven Servant
Heh… I wouldn’t if I were you. The last guy that made the mistake of interrupting the master at work had to have his own teeth removed from his ass!

(Terry grimaces, and the ruckus down below intensifies, as well as the lady’s moaning, which has now grown to outright SCREAMING!)

*BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!-BUMP!*

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Well, damn… I kinda need to get this interview done with, cause Daddy’s a bit strapped for cash…

…again.

Dwarven Servant
Relax. Just give it a minute longer…

(The two turn their ears up as they listen to the pandemonium continue, and the woman’s howling goes up an octave.)

*BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!BUMP!*

Woman Receiving the Greatness
OH!!

OH!!

OH!!

OOOOOHHH!!


OOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLVVVVIIIIIIIRRRRR~~!!!!!!

*BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!BUMP!!*

Olvir Arsvinnar
GGGGGRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!

(A thousand megaton bombs explode in sequence with a marching band bus slamming head-first into a truck carrying fireworks. The EXPLOSIVE PEAL rocks the entire boat.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA HA HA HA!!

(When all on deck have regain their balance, the midget Viking decisively nods.)

Dwarven Servant
Okay… he’s open for interviews now. If you’ll just follow me…

(Donning a short battle-axe fit for someone of Gary Coleman’s stature, the little warrior leads the washed-up reporter to a staircase leading down below. They enter Olvir’s mobile lair, seen for the first time on national television. It’s actually not too different from his extravagant longhouse back in Las Vegas, if not a bit more condensed in the hull of the huge wooden boat. The quarters come furnished with the standard Nordic feasting table, an elegant throne made of animal skins and ivory, and, naturally, several scantily clad women lounging about.)

(A large brown curtain hangs at the end of the room, guarded by a single stump-sized sentry. Terry and his midget companion approach what we can only assume is the threshold of Olvir’s glorious bedchamber. The dwarf holds a hand near his mouth as he whispers through the part in the curtain.)

Dwarven Servant
Pardon the interruption, O Great Olvir, Lengthy and Endowed. A guest has come to be in the presence of your envied greatness.

(Not a second later, the curtains SWING aside, revealing ALL that is OLVIR in stark naked glory!! To Terry’s dismay, all the savage Viking appears to be wearing is his token Viking helmet and the biggest effing smile you could imagine. From the perspective of the camera, the midget’s head stands right in the way of our view of his mighty loins. Perhaps it is for the better, as no doubt a mere glimpse of his pride would drive any man to the point of envious madness, and any woman to the point of insatiable lust. Unfortunately for Terry Anderson, his entire vision is swamped by every glistening and statuesque muscle and orifice on the Viking’s huge, hairy, perspiring person.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
TERRY, SON OF ANDER!!! Your coming merits my WARMEST of greetings! BASK, now, in the EXCELLENCE that is the Great Olvir’s infallible form!

(Terry double-takes the region below Olvir’s waist in complete disbelief before finally forcing himself to look away. Perhaps, like any other man, he’s simply uncomfortable around another man’s exposed genitalia. Or, more likely, it’s just too much for his mortal mind to take in all at once.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Uh, Olvir, you mind putting the beast back in it’s—

(He is immediately silenced as five massive fingers wrap around his skull and nearly rip his head off his shoulders as his face is yanked INCHES away from the Norseman’s mighty longsword.)

Olvir Arsvinar
BASK!! BAAAAAASSSK!!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
I’M BASKING! I’M BASKING! Just, GOOD GOD, get that thing AWAY FROM ME before it POKES MY EYE OUT!!

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA HA HA HA!!

(The Viking releases his iron-like grip, and Terry, in an act of pure desperation, LUNGES out of the frame and collapses somewhere off-screen.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Are you impressed with my GREATNESS?!

(The camera gets a shot of Anderson lying flat on his back, his eyes staring beyond space and time as if he’s seen the most shocking thing in his life. Despite how he looks, his voice comes out surprisingly calm.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
To be honest, Olvir, I’m feeling a number of things right now, but sure, I guess “impressed” could be on of them.

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA!

(The Viking snaps his fingers, and is soon garbed in a stylish velvet pornstar’s robe by two lovely young women, one of whom also hands the berserker his favored mead horn. With a maniacal smile on his bearded face and a triumphant haughtiness in his gait, he goes to his throne and seats himself, soon flanked on either side by the two horn-helmeted dwarves present in the room. The disheveled Terry Anderson comes back into the frame, dusting off his cheap leisure suit jacket.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
It is as I expected, Talk-Man! The Great Olvir is a MASTER of making impressions! In fact, just moments before your arrival, I left a GRAND impression between the milky thighs of virtuous maiden!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Yeah, I heard… as I’m sure just about everybody else in a ten mile radius.

But I won’t dispute your claim to leaving impressions. You’ve certainly impressed a number of people thus far with that stunning victory over the second seeded Shawn Hart last night. Not only have you ousted one of the favorites in the Los Angeles bracket in the TEAM Invitational Tournament, but you also bring yourself one step closer to the finals.

Olvir Arsvinnar
INDEED! Though the PUNY Shawn Hart fought most valiantly until his bitter demise, his struggle against my sheer MIGHT was doomed from the very beginning!

He doubted my strength… passed me off as nothing more than a ignoble “survivor”… but perhaps NOW he knows that this Viking warrior is no mere “survivor”; he is a SAVAGE CONQUEROR!!

Now the Great Olvir revels in the spoils of victory, having avenged his fallen incontinent cousin HANS!! And as for the puny one? He now walks the path of defeat, hanging his head in shame in the eyes of the great gods of Valhalla, and now the GREATNESS that is OLVIR claims his number two seed in this most ultimate of tournaments!!

HA HA HA HA!!

(Terry looks a bit perplexed.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Take his number two seed? Um… Olvir, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but that’s not quite the way seeding works. You’re still number seven.

(Dumbfounded, and probably just plain dumb to go with that, the Vikin’s eyes pop open like two enormous balls of white fire.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
WHAT!?! Such INSOLENCE!! This revelation ANGERS the Great Olvir!! It was there in the arena where I USURPED my foe, and therefore I should rightfully be the second seed!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
I think you’re confusing seeding with ranking, Olvir. Your seed doesn’t determine any kind of standing, but just your placement in the tournament brackets. As such, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with the number seven for the long haul…

Olvir Arsvinnar
BAH!! The Great Olvir is ENRAGED to hear this!!

GRRRAAAARRRGGHH!!!

(Without warning, Olvir bolts to his feet, nabs the midget guard to his immediate right, and FLINGS HIM THROUGH THE AIR like a Frisbee, producing a cacophonous CRASH as the unlikely dwarf hurtles off-screen. A seething Olvir remains standing before the camera. Terry seems to shrink several inches.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
WHOA, Olvir! Cut back on the juice there, pal! I mean, yeah, your seed is kind of an indicator as to where you’d rank on any normal scale, but beating guys seeded higher than yourself is still a GOOD thing! If anything, it should tell you that seeding is meaningless, because you’re exceeding your own expectations!

Olvir Arsvinnar
FOOL! The Great Olvir already knows himself to be the STRONGEST man in this Odin-damned tournament! But what BOILS my savage blood hotter than a thousand burning suns is the blatant lack of RECOGNITION I receive for my hard-fought victories!

Here I have beaten one of the so-called “best” and PROVEN my superior might! But still, these “expectations” you speak of remain, and the Great Olvir will NEVER be recognized as the greatest gladiator to ever grace the noble arena, no matter HOW many foes I triumph over, all because I am forever BOUND to the trivial number seven!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Hmm… I see where you’re getting it. You seem to feel that no matter who you beat, big or small, people are always going to consider you as an underdog compared to any other shmuck in tights with a higher number than yourself.

Olvir Arsvinnar
GRRAAAAAAAARRRGGHHH!!!

(Humongous hands seize the dwarf to the Viking’s right, who is LAUNCHED through the air like a rag doll. Off-screen, we hear glass break, along with the token screech of a cat.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
The GREAT OLVIR is no worthless DOG!! He is a WARRIOR… a CONQUEROR… an UNSTOPPABLE AVATAR of DESTRUCTION!! The mere utterance of my glorious name should cause normal people to run into the streets, SCREAMING in FEAR!! To even THINK he is “UNDER” any other puny man in this tournament is an INSULT to my greatness!!

(Sternly, he falls back into his throne and props his head over his massive knuckles, brow hung low to give a brooding demeanor. Scratching his over-tanned chin thoughtfully, Anderson meekly approaches the raging behemoth of a man.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
You know, Olvir… I can understand why you’re upset. I mean, I spent MANY years in this business. Hell, even when I was in my prime, at the very TOP of this industry, I still had my critics. You could go out there and beat EVERY man to ever lace up a set of boots and prove yourself the best that ever lived, but there’s always going to be some jack-off that continues to trash your name.

It’s the nature of the business, I’m afraid… but if it’s any consolation, you could always just convince yourself that they’re either jealous of your great talent, or plain and simply full of sh*t. Either way, you can’t let it cramp your style. Know what I mean?

(The Viking’s wrathful gaze turns to the reporter, who steps back, perhaps fearing that he himself might become another airborne projectile. Instead, Olvir clenches his eyes closed and sighs, calming his unyielding rage.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Perhaps you are right, Son of Ander. After all, the Greatness that is Olvir is NO stranger to the envy of other men! But perhaps it is not envy that overshadows my deserved glory… but simple-minded IGNORANCE!!

So be it! Soon enough, they will learn…

(The devious smile spreads across his face again as he looks forward to the future prospects of overpowering his critics and doubters.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Besides, Olvir… I think it’s quite unfair to say you’re not getting any recognition. Hell, your match with Hart made the highlight reel on Epicenter. You got PRAISE from fans and critics alike! Not to mention, in the short time you’ve been an active wrestler, you’ve build quite a devoted following of aficionados. Guys dig your style, and women all across America are practically PRAYING for you to sweep them off their feet and onto your, uh… bearskin.

In fact, it appears as if you’ve already made a fan out of your opponent in the next round! “Stylin’” Kyle Roberts had nothing but good things to say about you and your work… whether it’s in the ring, or in the sheets!

Olvir Arsvinnar
Is that so! Well, such news PLEASES the all-hearing ear of the Great Olvir! Now I almost feel disheartened knowing I will inevitably crush him in the ring!

Almost…

Tell me more of this stylish Kyle of the Roberts! The Great Olvir DEMANDS it of you!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Well, I only know a little from bits and pieces off the internet. Apparently, he made quite a splash over in NAPW as one half of the critically acclaimed New and Improved D-X with Bruce “The Beast” Richards. Now he’s trying his luck in the singles wrestling scene, and doing quite well at it, being a two-time World Heavyweight Champion in Rick Garrett’s REBEL-Pro.

(The haughty Viking unexpectedly throws his head back and lets out a booming peal of laughters.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA HA HA HA!! RICK GARRETT!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
You’re familiar with him, I assume?

Olvir Arsvinnar
HA!! Being the showcase of this new world’s booming pornography industry, it is only NATURAL that I, in my infinite wisdom, am knowledgeable in the art of my weakling competitors! Let us HOPE the strength of his REBEL-Pro warriors is not as PUNY and WEAK as the miserable quality of his SMUT!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
There may not be a need for that, Olvir. Kyle Roberts is the number three seed. Granted, you beat the number two in Shawn Hart, but you should know you’re likely walking into another tough contest.

Olvir Arsvinnar
GOOD!! A Viking YEARNS for challenge!! I did not come to TEAM to effortlessly trollop over every puny man put in my path! The Road to Asgard is paved in GLORIOUS CONQUESTS and HARD-EARNED VICTORIES!! Only those great Vikings that overcome the most PERILOUS of rivals will fight alongside the gods in the battle of Ragnarok!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
…okay, so one minute, you’re angry about people not recognizing you as the best. But now you’re practically saying that you can’t appear to be the best, otherwise it’d seem like you weren’t overcoming anything. Do you realize you’re sorta contradicting yourself here?

(The moldy, wooden gears that make up the clockwork in the raging Viking’s head make a few extra turns, and once again, his face switches from maddened pomposity to unrelenting fury.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
THE WISDOM OF THE GREAT OLVIR IS INFINITE, AND SHOULD NOT BE QUESTIONED!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Hey, I didn’t mean any offense or anything…

Olvir Arsvinnar
BAH!! Your FOOLISH AUDACITY ANGERS ME, Son of Ander!!

GRRRAAAAAAARRRGGHHH!!!

(Again, the raging Viking comes to his feet, looking right and left for something to throw, but alas, is out of midgets. This seems to only fuel the fire burning within him as he calls out in a thunderous roar.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
THE GREATNESS THAT IS OLVIR DEMANDS MORE DWARVES!!!

(On cue, one of the helmeted munchkins steps into the frame and greets his master with a salute.)

Dwarven Servant
You called, Your Royal Olvir-ness?

Olvir Arsvinnar
GGRRAAAAAAAARRRGHHH!!!

(Effortlessly, he CHUCKS the midget through the air, exercising his magnificent strength! Following with a mighty ROAR, he fumes for a few moments longer until his anger subsides.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
…feel better now?

Olvir Arsvinnar
Grrr… a bit. But NEVER AGAIN question the logic of the Great Olvir, or by the One-Armed God Tyr, I shall send you to the MOON with a single stroke of my mighty fist!!

(Anderson audibly gulps.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Duly noted, Olvir…

Well, in any case, as we approach Los Angeles, your journey continues, to, uh… simultaneously earn the recognition of fans, critics, and rivals alike, and at the same time triumph over the most challenging trials that nobody would expect the Strongest Warrior in the World to ever overcome.

(Terry looks at the camera for a moment, as if wondering if what he just said makes any sense at all. No, Terry, it doesn’t, but just pretend it does.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
SPLENDID!! Soon, the puny Kyle of Roberts will come face to face with the unimaginable STRENGTH and PROWESS of the ever lengthy GREATNESS… that is OLVIR!! The man he now admires will become the man he DREADS, and the FOOL that is Rick Garrett will only be left to shake his head in DEFEAT, having been bested TWICE by my virtuous force!!

COME TERRY, Son of Ander!! The land of the LOST ANGEL’S ASS awaits us, as well as our NEXT glorious conquest in the arena!

HA HA HA HA!!

(Downing the remainder of his mead horn, Olvir tosses his chalice aside, grabs the battle-axe resting near his mighty throne, and bolts off camera, seemingly headed in no particular direction but destroying or fornicating anything he comes across. A great commotion can be heard off camera as Terry looks on in shock and awe. Shaking his head, he turns to the camera.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Man, now I REALLY wish I had a plane ticket!

Shoulda done that favor the trucker asked for…

(Fade to black.)

 

[Jago]

Previously, in a Kyle Roberts promo...​

(At a party in Raleigh. The host, Ted, leads Kyle into the living room, over to a couch full of people.)

TED: Guys, this is Kyle. He's my next door neighbour. Kyle, this is Annette, George and Laura. I know them from work. Kyle's a professional wrestler.

(Cut. A small redhead winds up and punches Kyle right in the stomach.)

KYLE ROBERTS: OOOOOF!

ANNETTE: What did you do that for?

LAURA: (shrugs) I wanted to see if he could take a punch.

(Cut. Outside the party, on a balcony, Kyle's nursing a beer, talking with Laura, the redhead.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Red Hat Software? So, you're pretty smart and stuff.

LAURA: Kyle, you and I come from the first generation that's really been comfortable with computers. It's not a matter of being smart, it's just having a knack for computers.

KYLE ROBERTS: Sooo... you're pretty smart.

LAURA: (smiles) You could say that.

KYLE ROBERTS: Well, I'll make sure to get Ted some tickets for Tuesday's show, then.

LAURA: Or... You could just call me.

KYLE ROBERTS: Call you?

LAURA: Well, yeah.

(Cut. A video clip, where Lazy Smurf gets bit by a purple fly, turns purple himself and starts biting other Smurfs.)

LAZY SMURF: Gnap! Gnap!

(Pull out to Kyle Roberts, watching this, shaking his head.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Belgian cartoons are bat**** insane!

(Fade out to black, when words appear on the screen along with a narrator's voice.)

NARRATOR: And now, another promo from Stylin' Kyle Roberts.

(On black, the words "First date" appear. We fade up on Kyle and Laura, walking down a street in downtown Raleigh. Kyle's wearing a forest green dress shirt and a black jacket. Laura's dressed up in a red blouse and a patterned skirt.)

LAURA: That was a good restaurant. I'll have to remember that one.

KYLE ROBERTS: The sign wasn't kidding when it said "The Beefeater's Haven."

LAURA: You certainly polished off that chateaubriand. There wasn't a part of the plate that wasn't licked clean.

KYLE ROBERTS: Well, hey, I'm all about the beef.

(Laura stops in front of an apartment complex.)

LAURA: Well, this is my place. Thank you for the evening.

KYLE ROBERTS: My pleasure.

LAURA: Did you... want to come up?

KYLE ROBERTS: Um. I probably shouldn't.

(Laura frowns a bit. Kyle hurriedly explains.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Don't get me wrong, I'd love to! But- well, my last relationship... It didn't end that well. And I don't want to start down the path I took with Amy, because I kind of hurt her. A lot.

LAURA: Oh.

KYLE ROBERTS: So while my body would love to go into your place, and my mind's all "Hells, yeah! Go on and do it!", my conscience doesn't want to hurt you.

LAURA: (furrowed brow) Kyle, I'm not the kind of girl who puts out on the first date.

KYLE ROBERTS: No, but I'm the kind of guy who can be pretty persuasive. So instead...

LAURA: Yes?

(Kyle leans in and tilts his head. Laura does the same and they kiss. Tenderly, but more than long enough for things to get serious. But Kyle pulls back.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Wow.

LAURA: Yeah.

KYLE ROBERTS: So, I'll call you.

LAURA: You'd better, mister.

(We fade to black. And the words "Third Date" appear. Kyle and Laura are walking in a park, arm in arm.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Lessee... Back when I was ten or eleven, I drank about five cups of Hollandaise sauce. I was sick all night.

LAURA: Ew!

KYLE ROBERTS: Hollandaise is the nectar of the gods!

LAURA: And you got sick because?

KYLE ROBERTS: Five cups of something that rich? Tummyache for Kyle.

LAURA: When I was a girl, I'd constantly flash my underwear.

KYLE ROBERTS: Pffft. What kid wasn't a nudist? I'd always be running around the yard in the buck.

LAURA: It counts!

KYLE ROBERTS: Fine. When I was seventeen, my friends duct taped me to the top of a truck, and we went joy-riding.

LAURA: NO!

KYLE ROBERTS: It was totally spur of the moment.

LAURA: That's dangerously stupid.

KYLE ROBERTS: That's the game. Stupid decisions.

LAURA: Okay. When I was fourteen, I got caught for shoplifting.

KYLE ROBERTS: You little criminal.

LAURA: But it wasn't just lipstick. Every teenage girl does that. I lifted a pair of Guess jeans. The $60 kind.

KYLE ROBERTS: Impressive. But it won't beat this for "dumbest decision ever."

LAURA: Shoot.

KYLE ROBERTS: I lied to my girlfriend.

LAURA: Oooh-kaay.

KYLE ROBERTS: I told her that my tag team partner and I were just pretending to hate each other when I hit him in the head with a steel chair.

LAURA: And you weren't?

KYLE ROBERTS: No, I was totally jealous of him, and I decided to end things right there.

LAURA: Wait a second. Isn't pro wrestling fake?

KYLE ROBERTS: It's hard to fake pride in what you do. It's hard to fake being good in the ring. And it's hard to fake hitting a guy in the head with a steel chair.

LAURA: So you...

KYLE ROBERTS: Lied to her constantly? Yeah. It was the straw that broke Amy's back. So what's why I want things to be different between you and me. I want there to be honesty and trust. I lost two years of some very good times because of lying.

LAURA: I can live with that.

KYLE ROBERTS: Good.

LAURA: So that's your biggest bad decision?

KYLE ROBERTS: I think so.

LAURA: Hm.

(They walk for a while in silence.)

LAURA: I kidnapped a baby once.

KYLE ROBERTS: WHAT?

(We fade out once more. And then we fade in on another cartoon, this time the opening theme to "Ovide and the Gang." Once more we pull out on Kyle Roberts watching on his couch. Text appears at the bottom of the screen: "The present.")

KYLE ROBERTS: Yup. Belgian cartoons. Still ****ed up.

(Kyle's roommate and legal counsel, Ryan Kingston, enters the room.)

RYAN KINGSTON: Did you see Olvir's last promo?

KYLE ROBERTS: DID I? Seriously, he's a viking porn star, and he does the only thing in his promo that could make me love him even more.

RYAN KINGSTON: Let me guess...

KYLE ROBERTS: MIDGETS! God, if only I could have midgets in my promos.

RYAN KINGSTON: Well, with that restraining order against you by Santa's Workshop in Crabtree Valley Mall, I don't think you're going to be able to get any local dwarves.

KYLE ROBERTS: When you're three foot four, you're BEGGING to be shook!

RYAN KINGSTON: From what I remember, they were begging you to stop.

KYLE ROBERTS: How can I face this guy? I'll be shivering with glee at being in the ring with him!

RYAN KINGSTON: Oh, god, it's Chris Casino all over again.

KYLE ROBERTS: No it's not.

RYAN KINGSTON: When he came into NAPW, you thought he was the second coming of Christ. You couldn't wait to be his buddy. And then, when he kicked you to the curb, you were devastated.

KYLE ROBERTS: Yeah, but-

RYAN KINGSTON: And you'd think you'd have learned the second time he decided to ally with you, but no, he broke your heart once again.

KYLE ROBERTS: But!

RYAN KINGSTON: And Olvir's going to do the exact same thing, but here's the kicker: He's not trying to be your friend.

KYLE ROBERTS: He doesn't know me!

RYAN KINGSTON: And he's not going to. He's going to go out to that ring, try to break you with his arsenal of no-selling, and advance to the next round. Unless you fight him and show the rest of the tournament who you are.

KYLE ROBERTS: It can't be both of us, can it?

RYAN KINGSTON: Not a chance in hell. But maybe if you defeat him, like I know you're capable of doing, maybe he'll respect you for getting further ahead in the tournament. And if not, then your relationship with the Norse viking porn star just wasn't meant to be.

KYLE ROBERTS: Damn, Ryan. That's harsh.

RYAN KINGSTON: But it's the only way I'm going to get through to you. Otherwise, you'll be gushing in the ring, letting a man who has no psychological game completely screw with your mind.

KYLE ROBERTS: My mind is my biggest weapon!

RYAN KINGSTON: That's right. You wouldn't be smarter than a Scandinavian Ultimate Warrior ripoff if you were totally man-crushing on him.

(Kyle stares ahead, seems to make up his mind, and give a determined nod.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Just because I respect this guy doesn't mean I won't try my hardest to beat him.

RYAN KINGSTON: Good. So, what's on the agenda? You going to watch some more of his tapes?

KYLE ROBERTS: Sounds like a plan. Load 'em up.

(As Ryan flips the TV from "Ovide and the Gang" to the DVD player, Kyle makes himself comfy. You hear the sounds of previous TEAM matches in the background, as we zoom in on Kyle. His determined glare softens.)

KYLE ROBERTS: (muttered) How can I stay mad at this god among men?

(Fade to black.)

 

[RStrawsma]

Valhalla Productions 205 - The City of Valkyries

(We fade in on the expansive skyline of Los Angeles. It’s quite a breathtaking scene, with the Hollywood Hills far off in the distance and the towers of glass stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. We could probably do without the ever-present layer of smog, but some say it’s the pollution that gives the city its beautiful sunsets.)

VALHALLA PRODUCTION COMPANY​

Presents​

(We only get a few seconds of this image before it’s partially obscured by a massive masculine form moving into the frame. With his back to the camera, a muscle-bound Norseman scans the city before him.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Such a noble land, this CALIFORNIA… a kingdom RULED by its most noble and mighty barbarian lord!!

OLVIR ARSVINNAR​

In​

(Olvir turns around to face the camera, bearing his ever-present ear-to-ear grin as he strokes his long blonde beard, thinking of the spoils that await him in this new locale. Joining him in the shot is Terry “The Idol” Anderson.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Uh, what? Oh… wait. I guess you’re referring to the Governator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, who played the leading role in Conan the Barbarian.

Olvir Arsvinnar
YES, Son of Ander!! Naturally, ALL know the story of the great Cimmerian warlord that conquered the lands of the WEST after vanquishing the evil Thulsa Doom! The chronicle of that legend is the one film in the Great Olvir’s collection of Dee-Vee-Dees that does not contain an arse-to-mouth sequence!

It is almost a shame that I should sack many of his great cities… although, pillaging this “Lost Angel’s Ass” would be quite the undertaking. Certainly, it would be a campaign lasting many months, and only with an army of a thousand well-armed warriors such as myself!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Well, it is the second largest city in the United States.

Olvir Arsvinnar
ALAS… my ambitions to CONQUER this great metropolis must be put off for another time! TONIGHT, a more important matter is at hand, as the GREATNESS that is Olvir steps into the gladiatorial arena once again! A fierce challenge awaits me… one that I shall PREVAIL over, and continue my quest to be crowned as the STRONGEST MAN in this sport of wrestling!

…and yet… the Great Olvir finds himself plagued with the seldom felt sensation of doubt!

(Terry seems a bit surprised by this admission.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Doubt that you’ll succeed tonight?

Olvir Arsvinnar
Nay, puny Talk-Man! Doubt that I’ll even GET TO THE ARENA!!

(With the Viking wearing a scowl across his face, the camera pans out, revealing a wider shot. The two stand on the deck of Olvir’s famous land-based drekkar… which happens to be right in the middle of rush hour traffic on the expressway. Flanking all sides of the massive wooden barge are smaller automobiles, honking irritably and tail-gating in what is any given day for an L.A. commuter. With conditions on the road the way they are now, the vessel is traveling at the pace of a snail.)

"THE CITY OF VALKYRIES"​

(We return to the original camera angle, as Olvir audibly curses.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Cursed land-dwellars!! I KNEW we should have done it the old-fashioned way and came in through the sea!!

(A blaring honk from behind the ship gets the Viking’s attention, who quickly goes over to the rail. A topless Mercedes driven by a red-faced yuppie currently rides the tail of the dragon ship. The driver shakes an annoyed fist at the Norseman, perhaps not knowing the logical fate that would follow should he incite the rage of the Great Olvir.)

Angry Yuppie Driver
Damn hippies!! Take the circus back up to San Fran, and get this stupid thing off the road!

(A growl escapes the Viking. Two of his dwarven servants hand him his battle-axe, as if psychically linked to their master and meeting his every demand on a whim. Terry’s over-tanned, sagging facial features begin to show signs of worry.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Whoa, Olvir, what are you—!?

Olvir Arsvinnar
GRAH!!

(In one fluid motion, the great Viking LEAPS over the rail and lands with a THUD upon the hood of the steel-colored Mercedes, causing the driver to YELP in surprise! Olvir promptly reaches over the windshield, grabs him by his tie, and pulls him OUT of his seat, inches from the angry berserker’s glowering face.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
The Great Olvir CARES NOT FOR YOUR TONE!!

(Effortlessly, Olvir tosses the squealing yuppie out of the frame, and goes to work on the body of the car with his battle-axe, savagely destroying the hood, doors, and windows with ruthless aggression, all the while laughing maniacally. Back at the boat, we see a rope ladder being tossed over the edge, and rather clumsily, Terry Anderson hurries down to the road.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Olvir, what the hell?!

(Olvir’s savagery finally comes to an end once the reporter has descended to the bottom of the ladder and joined him. He throws the axe over his shoulder and looks off into the distance.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
The Greatness that is OLVIR will wait NO LONGER to arrive upon his destination! Come, Son of Ander… we will find more conventional means of travel!

HA HA HA HA!!

(Without hesitation, the Viking BOUNDS out of the frame. Terry wipes a layer of sweat from his forehead.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Oh boy…

(Cut to a later shot as Olvir strides down a sidewalk in Downtown Los Angeles, a slightly embarrassed Terry Anderson in tow. The Norseman gets a lot of double-takes and confused glances from the regular citizens as he travels, seemingly without any sense of direction. Ever-grinning, Olvir takes in the large skyscrapers that surround him, and ogles voraciously over the numerous Hollywood blondes that cross his path. He gets a few ogles back from some of the lovely ladies.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Never has the All-Seeing Eye of the Great Olvir SEEN so many maidens of infallible virtue and beauty! It is as if I had somehow died and gone to Valhalla! An impossibility, of course, since the Great Olvir cannot POSSIBLY die at such a prime era of his most noble life!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Yeah, well… take it from me, and enjoy it while it lasts. After you hit forty, you’ll be WISHING you were dead.

(Anderson sighs as he mentally reminds himself of just how miserable his existence is. Once, he was considered a prominent professional wrestler, an inspiration to thousands of fans across the planet. Now? He was carrying a mic, asking boring questions, and following this loose cannon from one ridiculous situation to the next. In his moment of self-contemplation, he nearly runs face-first into Olvir’s wall-like backside as the Viking comes to an abrupt stop. Standing before Arsvinnar is a dirt-covered man in trashy clothes. Obviously, a homeless person. Or maybe it’s Jason Reeves on any given day outside of the ring or hiding in Rocko Daymon’s bushes. The bum reaches out with an open hand.)

Bum
Spare change?

(Olvir glances into the open, dirt-encrusted hand only briefly, before electing to show the transient his OWN mighty hand—specifically, clenched tight into a melon-sized ball and traveling at break-neck speed as it blasts the hobo point-blank in the face and sends him FLAILING out of the frame.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
PITIFUL FOOL!! The Great Olvir spares NOBODY!! HA HA HA HA!!

(Olvir continues on his voyage, stepping over the lifeless body of the homeless man. Terry follows, shaking his head.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
You know, Olvir… not to knock your style, but it seems to me that you have some serious aggression problems.

Olvir Arsvinnar
HMPH!! By the all-knowing logic of the Great Olvir, it seems to ME that the majority of people in this world suffer from TIMIDITY and WEAKNESS!! The savage roots of my time a thousand years ago are all but NONEXISTENT in this modern age!! How can the GREATNESS that is Olvir NOT be aggressive in the presence of such utter FRAILTY?!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Well, okay… I guess you can’t help but be what you are. But attacking random strangers? Couldn’t you at least let them off easy, giving them the benefit of the doubt?

Olvir Arsvinnar
No doubt, Son of Ander, I COULD do that! But what, really, is a Viking that shows LENIENCE and MERCY to those that stand in his way? The answer is simple: he is NOT a Viking. A Celt, maybe… but no noble Scandinavian!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Not even to people who actually like you? I mean, take your opponent tonight… Kyle Roberts. The guy is practically your number one fan now… all because of who you are, what you represent, and what you bring to the ring. You’re a trend-setter… a mold-breaker… and for that, he gives you his respect, which is a rare offering in this oft self-centered sport.

But regardless of how much the guy adores you… you’re still intent on going in that ring and ripping his arms off as if he were your worst enemy.

Olvir Arsvinnar
OF COURSE, pitiful Talk-Man!! You must understand the NATURE of the battlefield! Respect and adoration aside… when it comes to WAR, it is every man for himself! Any man that shows MERCY does so at his own risk! Should this Kyle of the Roberts do the SAME for me, then he will face a terrible fate!

The Great Olvir is WELL-AWARE of the many opinions people have of him. Many men FEAR my strength… and they earn my pity. Others HATE me for my savagery… and they earn my wrath. Then, there are few like this Kyle of the Roberts, who WORSHIP my greatness and much-envied endowment… and they earn my favor!

But it matters now for how one perceives the Great Olvir, because the end result will ALWAYS be the same for ANY of my rivals: they will FALL to my unyielding wrath, and be left behind without so much as a second glance!

I would expect YOU to know this, Son of Ander, given your knowledge of the gladiatorial sport! Certainly, you have shared the arena with men you have respected… perhaps even a few noble friends?

(Anderson’s eyes go off into space for a while as he thinks back on the glory years, some twenty years ago… back when the fans went ape-sh*t for his kind of talent and persona, and at the end of every match there was always a hooker in the locker room with a line of coke at the top of her ass crack. The sport of today seemed much tamer compared to back then.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Well… yeah. It’s not like I had personal beef with every one of my opponents. I had an ego, of course… a Superman complex like you wouldn’t believe. But whenever it was a man I respected on the other side of the ring, there were limitations, you know? I wasn’t set to end the guy’s career or anything; it was just a matter of getting his shoulders to the mat for the three, and life goes on.

Olvir Arsvinnar
BAH!! The way of the Viking gives NO QUARTER to any man who stands on the other side of the battle, friend or foe! Relentless fury is the ONLY warranted method of victory! If it ends my weak enemy’s “career”—or even his LIFE—then so be it!

Perhaps your weak-minded philosophy is why you now clip at the heels of a GREATER MAN in your tacky clothes with your tiny black phallic “micro-phone,” asking your worthless questions!! Had you any true Scandinavian blood in you and fought without limits or control, perhaps you would be IMMORTALIZED in the halls of Valhalla in the form of a golden statue!

(Terry balks at this comment, appearing hurt by its directness… but eventually sighs with defeat, realizing there may be some truth in what Olvir is saying.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Yeah… can’t really dispute with you on that one.

(Olvir abruptly stops walking and spins around, causing Terry to run nose-first in between his steel-like pectorals. The Viking SLAPS HIM on both shoulders, hard enough to nearly cause him to collapse on the spot.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
Come now, Son of Ander! The Great Olvir meant NO OFFENSE by reminding you of your WEAKNESS!! Why is it you still remain in my almighty presence?

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
…because it’s my job?

Olvir Arsvinnar
NO, foolish Talk-Man!! It is because the Great Olvir sees much POTENTIAL in you!! Yes, you are weak, puny, and look invariably like my MOST RIGHTEOUS SCROTUM when the Great Olvir steps out of the shower… but under my tutelage, I will resurrect you as the CHAMPION you once were!

(A glimmer of hope crosses Terry’s face.)

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
You mean… you could possibly build me back up to a point where I could get laid without having to pay for it?

Olvir Arsvinnar
With my guidance, Son of Ander, you will have to PAY THEM to keep AWAY from your most sought-after PHALLUS!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
Man… that’d be AWESOME!! I haven’t had any real action in YEARS!! Say, how about after tonight’s match, you grab one extra foxy lady over that guardrail and bring her back for your old pal Terry?

(The Greatness that is Olvir narrows his eyes… perhaps not to keen on having to share his nightly plunder.)

Olvir Arsvinnar
The Great Olvir will consider it, but makes no promises!

Do not distract yourself too much with the fairer gender, Son of Ander. We must still focus on the oncoming challenge that AWAITS my Greatness in that noble arena! There, in the squared-circle, whether he comes to praise me or fight me, I WILL DESTROY the Stylish-ness that is the Kyle of the Roberts!! I will leave his master Rick Garrett MAD with ENVY!! And at the end of the night, as he lies broken and beaten in the locker room, REVELLING in the most righteous HONOR of being DEFEATED at the hands of the legendary Viking, the Great Olvir will be SLAPPING MORE ASS than an ABUSIVE DONKEY MERCHANT!!

Terry “The Idol” Anderson
…yeah. Those guys really slap their asses around, alright.

(Both men turn around to see that they’ve arrived at their destination. The Staples Center is lit up in a fantastic display with a TEAM banner held prominently over the entry-way, where a line of fans files out the gates and down the block. Olvir laughs MIGHTILY and raises his battle-axe into the air!)

Olvir Arsvinnar
COME, Talk-Man!! VICTORY AWAITS US!!

HA HA HA HA!!

(Again, without showing the faintest sign of reluctance, Olvir BOUNDS toward the arena. Terry is left behind with a look on his face that shows something between envy and self-doubt. His eyes find the microphone in his hand, and with an “aw, f*ck it” shrug, raises it into the air as if it were a weapon and runs after Olvir as if he were riding into battle.)