Kenny Freeman
09.23.22
MGM Grand
Las Vegas, Nevada
Mere moments after a big victory at UltraViolence, we find the Masters of the Multiverse…B-Team making their way through the doors exiting the arena part of the resort. Randall Schwartz and Kenny Freeman are laughing hysterically, quite literally patting themselves on the back–or rather, Mr. Schwartz and Mr. Freeman–after the absolute shenanigans that led to the B-Team finally picking up their first win in PRIME, at the expense of Dangerous Mix.
Their moment of celebration is soon cut short, however, as the quartet notice Aeon Khronos standing next to them, a sour look on his face as he shifts his attention between the four men, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. After what feels like an eternity of the sort of glare that would make GREAT SCOTT jealous, Aeon finally speaks up with a tone of sarcasm laced with disappointment in his voice.
“Well congratulations, you two…or should I say, you four? You got that precious win you wanted so bad, and it only cost you your morals.”
The main B-Team pairing look at each other, very nearly sharing the same disappointment they can sense in Aeon…but that moment is fleeting before the two have a hearty laugh at the statement. This only raises the ire of their recruiter, who furrows his brow at the disrespect.
“Right then, have your fun…but I’m gonna tell you two right now, your new friends can’t stay in this universe. Multiversal ethics, for one thing…and for another, you only can get away with what you pulled tonight once before everyone sees it coming in the future.”
Kenny and Randall take a moment to ponder this, reluctantly nodding in agreement before Randall speaks up, taking command of the situation brought before them.
“Okay, that’s fair enough. We’ll head on over to the Rabbit and get these fellas on their way h–”
Randall is interrupted by Kenny…or rather, Mr. Freeman.
“Aw, do I have to go home? I, uh…I don’t have a hell of a lot going for me right now.”
This draws a look of confusion from the B-Team and Aeon, as the Kenny we’re familiar with inquires further.
“What’d you mean? Don’t you have a life to go back to, buddy?”
Mr. Freeman pauses for a moment, before shaking his head.
“Getting in on tonight’s match was the first time I’d been even near a wrestling ring in several years. Where I’m from, all I have are those memories, pictures, and a replica belt to remind me of what once was. So…if it’s quite alright, I’d like to stay here. At least for a while.”
The trio of this universe turn their attention to Mr. Schwartz, curious as to what his status might be.
“Don’t look at me, man…I’m happy to do whatever gig I can take.”
This draws another worried look from Aeon, who scratches his chin as he ponders the situation.
“Well, fellas, I’m afraid that puts us in a bit of a bind. In the words of the band Semisonic, I suppose you don’t have to go home…but you can’t stay here.”
Kenny, for his part, immediately has a lightbulb go off in his mind as he chimes in.
“We can find a place for you guys. It’ll be fine.”
Misters Freeman and Schwartz consider this, nodding in agreement as the four men shake hands. With the agreement made, they make their way toward the hotel as the scene fades to black.
Oh man, I uh…I can’t believe that trick actually worked.
When you look back at what happened at UltraViolence, you come to realize that alongside such names as Cancer Jiles, The Anglo Luchador, and Tony Gamble are the Masters of the Multiverse as absolute winners coming out of the big supershow…and with that win over Dangerous Mix, it seems we’ve earned a very rare opportunity.
A shot at the Tag Team Championship.
When I got word of it, I just about lost my shit. I never thought in a million years that ol’ Kenny and Randall would actually get to shoot their shot, and get so much as a taste of the gold…but here we are, gearing up for THE biggest match of our careers.
Like, I know I talk a lot of trash sometimes, especially on the Jabber machine…but the importance of this match is clearly not lost on me.
I’m just hoping Randall’s as amped up as I am for it.
We gotta stay focused, after all, if we’re gonna pull off the upset…and I can’t think of a better week to shoot that shot. I mean, look at King Blueballs himself…no, you’re right, I’m sorry. That was low-hanging fruit.
I don’t blame you for being that mad about what Paxton Ray did to your buddy Jonathan Rhine, sir. I get it. If someone did something that bad to my friend, I’d be mad as hell myself.
Hell, if Randall did something like that to me, I’d be furious.
And, as I’m sure you can imagine, somewhere in the multiverse, something like that might very well have happened, will happen, or is happening as we speak.
But here? None of it.
And, with all due respect, I don’t care.
I’m not telling you this to be a dick, Mr. Sykes…I just don’t have the time nor the energy in me to care about other people’s business these days.
I know I look like a geek to some folks, but I’ve dealt with some shit in my life. The number of times I got bullied, only for people witnessing it to turn their back and let me suffer longer, is baffling.
So, from the bottom of my heart, I need you to understand this before we square off for the tag straps…I will not let you take your anger out on me. All these emotions you’re dealing with? Keep them to your damn self, at least until you can get your hands on Paxton Ray.
That’s your real enemy. Not me.
So keep your head on your shoulders and out of your ass.
Because the Commissioner of Food and Beverage has arrived, and it’s time for your inspection as champion.
I wanna see what you’re really made of, if you have it in you to stay a fighting champion…or if the B-Team can take their place as the top of the food chain in PRIME’s tag division.
~ Kenny Freeman
10.4.22
Somewhere Across The Multiverse
A blue light flashes, as a portal opens to reveal the B-Team and their counterparts stepping through. As the portal closes behind them, the quartet look around at the curious world around them…a world composed seemingly entirely of cardboard.
Far off in the distance, they can see flat, two-dimensional figures walking around on the streets, living out life as only know how. This form of society amazes the four men as they look at themselves, confirming they are still the same as they entered, as Kenny speaks up.
“Well, on the bright side, at least we know we’re still fleshed out around here.”
This gets a glare from the counterparts as Randall smacks Kenny across the back of the head. Eventually, the four make their way down to the nearby city as they continue to scout their surroundings. They come across a restaurant where a particularly assertive chef offers the crew a bowl of…something.
They look at the bowl, surprised to see that it can contain what appears to be some sort of hot broth without breaking apart, and each of them takes a bite of something shockingly soft using a cardboard fork. After a moment of contemplation over what they’ve consumed, Randall raises a question to the chef.
“What is this, anyway?”
The chef smiles with delight, hopeful that the visitors have enjoyed his meal of the day.
“Why, it’s only my finest dish, good sir! Thickened noodle soup, with only the best homemade copypasta, al dente.”
This only confuses Randall further, but Kenny nods his head in acknowledgement, as if impressed with the dish as he chimes in.
“Ah, I thought I could taste the lorem ipsum salt. Delish!”
He chuckles, even in the midst of Randall rolling his eyes at the quip before talking to the chef once again, pointing to the “HELP WANTED” sign he notices on the window.
“Say, are you still looking for someone to work here? Cause we got a couple guys that could use a solid job.”
This grabs the attention of the alternate B-Team, raising their eyes up from the dish presented to them as the chef examines the pair…before shaking his head.
“Sorry, not for these two. We don’t have the room in our kitchen…literally.”
He points to the kitchen across the room from the entrance, and the four Masters look down to see cooks sliding in and out of the kitchen to go about their business. They then look at each other, Randall and Kenny in particular trying to make a quick decision on what to do with their new friends…
Justine, you seem reasonable.
I think it’d be a lot easier to talk to you at this moment than Jared. The man seems a bit…emotional, and you seem to be the more rational of the pair right now.
So, let’s get down to brass tacks.
I realize that you two were a bit busy trying to check on Rhine after that heinous attack from Paxton, but I do hope you got a chance at some point the past week or so to look back and see what Kenny and I did to beat Dangerous Mix.
I think it’s vital information you should be aware of.
We can, and will, do whatever the hell is necessary to win come ReVival 17…because the jokes we’ve endured at the hands of about half the roster are finally played out, and it’s time for the ultimate punchline.
The Masters of the Multiverse, masters of PRIME’s tag team division.
Kenny’s been breathing down my neck all week about this whole thing, and I promised him that I would stay focused enough to really, really try my best.
Shit, I just realized how that first part sounded. Pretend you didn’t see that.
Anyway.
There’s something that’s been nagging at me for the past couple months, Justine, and I figured I’d get this off my chance now that we are finally facing off.
When Kenny and I entered Tag Team Survivor, we saw King Blueberry swear up and down that he and his pal El Hijo del Super Cool Guy, would be the next tag team champions.
The man teamed with a damn mannequin for that whole competition…only to bring you in when it came time to actually go after the tag team titles at Great American Nightmare.
What the hell.
Actually, lemme really stress this with a swear.
What the fuck, Justine.
People have been on our asses since UltraViolence, some of them mad as hell that we pulled the ol’ switcheroo trick we did to get a win…but Jared bringing you in as a ringer to win the tag belts in the first place doesn’t make you two very kosher, either.
Really, I’d say that puts us on equal footing going into this match, doesn’t it?
Two teams willing to do whatever the hell it takes to win. I’m fine with that, but I hope you realize what this means.
When we get in that ring, you and Jared are gonna find out the hard way just how serious we can be, when the need arises.
And believe me, this is a great need indeed.
When it’s all over, Jared’s gonna wish he’d stuck with the mannequin.
And you can decide whether coming into this world was all it was cracked up to be.
~ Randall “Not Richard” Schwartz
10.12.22
Desert Fox Creations
Las Vegas, Nevada
Just days away from their highly-anticipated bout against the Kings of Popsicles for the PRIME Tag Team Championship, we find the Masters of the Multiverse standing at the front desk of the small business, a smile on both their faces as Aeon steps in with a look of confusion on his face as he looks around, noticing the woodwork machines in the back.
“What’s this about, then?”
Randall raises a single finger, indicating that Aeon should wait a minute as a man bearing a name tag declaring himself co-owner of the business steps up to the desk with a small bag, handing it over to Kenny who smiles as he opens it. Randall shakes hands with the owner as Kenny pulls out a small wooden name tag, complete with magnetic backing as we read what the tag says:
KENNY FREEMAN
COMMISSIONER OF FOOD & BEVERAGE
Kenny sets the tag down on the desk, pulling out another tag with Randall’s name on it as he hands it to its rightful owner. Aeon finally understands what’s happening and nods with a smirk at the pair.
“Ah, fair enough. Leaning into that new food schtick, are we?”
The pair nod in response when suddenly, the front door opens once again…as their counterparts step in, smiles on their faces. Mr. Freeman’s eyes widen in excitement as he speaks up in a jovial tone.
“Oh sweet, the tags are done!”
The pair step up to receive their tags, much to the surprise of Aeon who, after a moment of pure shock, snaps at the B-Team.
“Hey, you told me these guys found a new home!”
Randall and Kenny just look at each other, almost uncertain how to respond until Randall thinks of a quick quip to get them out of this mess.
“Well yeah, they’re our, uh–”
Kenny chimes in, finishing the sentence for his compadre.
“They’re our assistants. We’ve made an agreement not to let them get involved in the wrestling side of things, but we need all the help we can get on the admin side of things!”
Aeon just glares at the duo, uncertain what to make of this as the other Masters enjoy checking out their new name tags. We see the four give each other the ultimate high five, a sign of solidarity in this new chapter of things as we fade to black once more.