An Offical Death Threat From The Society Of The New Breed

[Kilroy]

{The shot opens on none other than Kilroy Evans, sitting in a comfy chair in an airport lounge. He's wearing his usual sneakers, jeans, and a custom t-shirt. This one has a road sign figure standing by a door crossed out with a big, red "X." It's captioned with "NO BREXIT THRU THE BRENTRANCE." As the camera approaches, Kilroy is seen bobbing his head to something he's listening to on on some wireless earbuds. With a smile on his face, he removes them and looks at the camera.}

Kilroy Evans: Hola, soy Kilroy! That's right, it's me, Kilroy Evans, member of the...Society Of The New Breed? Hold on.

{Kilroy takes out his wallet and opens it. He takes a business card and scans it closely, squinting his eyes.}

Kilroy Evans: So it is. Huh.

{With a shrug, Kilroy puts the card and his wallet up. He looks back at the camera.}

Kilroy Evans: See, if you're gonna joke about our name being silly, why not attempt to make it funny?

{Kilroy's smile widens a little.}

Kilroy Evans: I mean, I could go into how it's a legacy name coined by the guy who runs our joint and it has actual meaning. But I won't. There's no point, I know you're not listening. What's to hear when you've reached the pinnacle of naming things like you have? Not everyone's hip enough to name themselves after a Primus song. Which is weird, 'cause Primus sucks.

{Kilroy nods sagely at his own words.}

Kilroy Evans: I'll be honest, I don't know why we're doing this, but I couldn't miss this for the world. Why would I? Showing up and storming your ring is the only thing I've seen Marty Donovan and Syberus agree on and cooperate over in at least a decade! I...was in!

{Kilroy excitedly snaps his fingers with a flourish at the end of his sentence.}

Kilroy Evans: Oh yeah, Syberus. Well, really "The Great Syberus." One of, if not the most decorated people in Hardkore World and the business at large. In fact, I'm contractually required to list off his many accolades. But it's late and I'm tired, so here.

{Kilroy holds his hands out to the camera and a long list scrolls from the bottom to the top of the screen very quickly. It's like a good ten seconds. There's joke ones in there too, but you'll have to go back and pause it later to see what they were.}

Kilroy Evans: He's been a friend, an enemy, a frenemy, and a mysterious fourth thing yet to be revealed. *beat* Currently, he's in the "friends" bracket what with the whole allied powers synergy we're rolling with now. It's a blast, really. We complement each other wonderfully. A sight to behold, really.

{Kilroy's smile gets bigger as he shifts in his seat.}

Kilroy Evans: Anyway, I told you all that to tell you this. We know what you claim to be. We want you to live up to the hype. You better, because we intend to eat you alive. Well, mostly me. I'm bitey.

{Kilroy's smile gets impossibly wider at that, teeth bared. Curiously, no overbite. Just teeth set on teeth. The gleam in his eye makes it less inviting.}

Kilroy Evans: We're not worried. I'll even say it right now. Win or lose, the point is to, in a HILARIOUS twist, grind down The Bastards! I don't know if you appreciate what you find yourself in the middle of or who you're facing. You may think you're ready for war, but you may want to Google the terms "war of attrition" and "Pyhrric victory."

{Kilroy leans forward toward the camera.}

Kilroy Evans: I'm not trying to get all Art Of War on you. I just wanted throw in a little class to the whole affair before adding that I got no problem sinking a shiv in someone's neck and celebrating like I won the Super Bowl. I'm proud of the horrors I commit in the ring. And with Syberus with me, The Society Of The New Breed is decidedly unbothered by the prospect of showing off how good we are at our jobs. How unbothered? Mmm...about that much.

{Kilroy points to something off camera and it turns to spot both Syberus and Tuxedo Mask occupying two nearby couches, sleeping contentedly. The camera pans back to Kilroy, who warmly smiles at the camera.}

Kilroy Evans: You're really not thinking this through, though I admire the gumption. I mean, at least you're not thinking about it like I am. I've been excited since the notice went out. These kinds of matches are special.

{Kilroy leans forward, arms resting on legs. His smile widens again.}

Kilroy Evans: See, as much as I'd love to just truly let loose all the time, in every match, I just can't. At least, that's how it has been explained to me. I have to show a modicum of restraint, Jonnie says, because if I go in and repeatedly injure people---his word, I wouldn't just stop at simple injuries---then there's less talent to book and an awkward work environment with my coworkers.

{Kilroy claps his hands together and has a look of mock sadness on his face.}

Kilroy Evans: Well golly, that would leave us all in a pickle, so I do. I rein it in little. That plus the whole "they might fight back" thing makes it less likely I'll do something...permanently unpleasant. And I would, too. Just ask Wes Crane. I threw a brick at him at our last show! I didn't care AT ALL!

{Kilroy stands up and stretches. He paces a little before turning back to the waiting camera.}

Kilroy Evans: Which brings me to you! Now, you're not Hardkore World guys. So that means Jonnie doesn't have to worry about handling the aftermath of any sort of grisly outcome in our match. Leaving us pretty much no reason at all to hold back on the most violent ideas we can come up with...

{Kilroy gets a faraway, thoughtful look on his face. He strokes his beard while he has a good think.}

Kilroy Evans: ...I wonder what we could do with that kind of information.

{Kilroy throws his hands up with a shrug.}

Kilroy Evans: Eh, I'm sure it'll come to me eventually. Anyway, I'm sure we're gonna have a blast in L.A.! The Hardkore fans love us to death there. We could probably straight murder one to two people in the middle of the ring and they'd absolutely love it.

{Kilroy has a sudden look of realization. His smile gets bigger as he points to the camera. He winks and puts back in his earbuds, calmly sitting back down like he never spoke at all. The shot fades out.}

Kilroy Evans: *voice over, singing* You're outta touch, you're outta time...

{End.}