Look Who Decided To Wake Up From Their Comas?

[Chandler Scott]

[The scene opens up in Preston Scott's comfortable study in his New York townhouse. The candlelight was just right. The HiFi was playing in the background. And the wine was marvelous. Simply maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahvelous. People, presumably friends of Preston's, occupy the room as they chat about this and day and enjoy their glasses of wine. The topic of tonight's chatter? You know, rich people stuff. Things that people like you, the underprivileged, know nothing about. The audio fades in, picking up the tail end of a conversation that Preston is having with one of his patrons....]

Random Man:
"So, what's the secret, Preston?” asks the man, looking to somehow steal Preston's secret for his very own get together.

Preston:
"Well naturally, I'd say it was the wine." says Preston with a bit on confidence.

Random Woman:
(The woman twirls around the contents of her glass before taking another sip. The smile on her face indicates delight and enjoyment.) "Mmmm, it did go well with the chicken."

Random Man:
"Delicious again, Preston.”

Preston:
"What can I say? I aim to please," says Preston nonchalantly as he shrugs his shoulders.

Random Woman:
"So, what will a single man like yourself be doing for the night after this little get together finishes up?" The woman asks with a sly smirk, indicating that she doesn't want her night to end when the get together does. In fact, judging by that smirk, she wants to partake in activities of the sexual variety with The Varsity Villain. Preston, meanwhile, smirks before drinking the rest of his glass of wine. Before he can respond, he hears noise coming from the kitchen. "Psst! Pssst! PSSSSSSSSST!" can be heard in the distance. An annoyed Preston turns around to see Chandler Scott and Madison Stewart at the doorway connecting the study to the kitchen. Madison can be seen waving him on. Preston sighs as he rolls his eyes. "You're going to have to excuse me. This won't be long."

Random Woman:
"Don't worry, I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," says the woman with a smirk. Yep, she definitely wants to get tutored by this Harvard graduate. Tonight's lesson? Anatomy! Preston then places his glass down on the table before joining his cohorts in the kitchen. Once there, Chandler shuts the door behind them. The trio then makes their way over to another part of the kitchen where one of the FGA's cameramen, who always seem omnipresent, is standing by. Preston naturally raises an eyebrow, wondering how the cameraman even got in here. Madison nods and quickly tells him that she let him in. Preston rolls his eyes, as if that was supposed to be a sign of relief. He then shakes it off, puts his game face on, and speaks.....

Preston:
“My oh my. Can you feel it? Can you feel it, Chandler, because I know I can.” Preston looks around and motions with his hands, as if he can literally feel something in the air.

Chandler:
“I most definitely feel it, Preston,” adds Chandler who nods in agreement.

Madison:
“I can even feel it too, baby,” chimes in Madison.

Preston:
“Oh yes, the time is coming, ladies and gents. It is time for The Harvard Connection to write all of the wrongs that have transpired in FRONTIER Grappling Arts thus far. It is time for The Harvard Connection to exhibit why they are the best at what they do, which is being tag team extraordinaires. And it is most definitely time for Jared James and his sidekick Blaine Harrison to receive the beating that they rightfully deserve!

You two are lucky, so lucky that you haven't felt the backs of our hands. Chandler raises his backhand. “But tomorrow night, you won't be so fortunate. All your fortunes, or in Jared's case, all of your luck will clearly run out when you step in between those ropes and you're facing across the ring from The Harvard Connection. That glass slipper has been slipped off your feet. That carriage has turned back into a pumpkin. And the sand in the hourglass has just about reached the very bottom. Your time is up, losers! It's time for The Harvard Connection to claim their debt. You two have gotten one over on us too many times in the past. But those times are long gone. No longer will you chase us out of the ring with steel chairs in hand. No longer will you be able to slither away with a victory like the snakes you are. Oh no! You two will be defeated, soundly defeated in fact, by the greatest pure athletes to ever grace a FRONTIER ring. And I don't care how sarcastic of a tone you say it with, punk, it doesn't make it any less true!” says Preston with authority as he points his finger at the camera, speaking directly to Blaine Harrison.

Chandler:
“You know, Preston and I, we're gentlemen. We're class acts. We are well groomed, we present ourselves well, we act like we have class. And oh yeah, we're Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarvard men. Now you see, guys like us, we normally don't put our hands on women. However, for you two ladies, we're making a clear exception. And just like women, all you two have done is run your mouths. YAK YAK YAK YAK YAK! Enough! We're done, we're through, we're sick of it! You want to rub our faces in the fact that you beat us once or twice? Fine, by all means, if bragging about beating The Harvard Connection makes your life feel complete then by all means, say it loud and say it proud. It says more about us than it ever could about you. But that was then, and this is now. You're not facing me one on one. You're not even facing Preston one on one. You're facing the both of us at the same time in a match that is our specialty. Now Blaine Harrison likes to claim that he's some tag team specialist and how he's a tag team guy at heart. But let me remind all of you idiots at home that we've done our research. It doesn't take long to type something into Google and find what you're looking for. And that place down there that Blaine likes to refer to so much. Yes, Blaine, that place. Yeah, Blaine says he's a tag specialist, too. But need I remind you people that his partner.... is a clown. No, not in the fact that his tag partner is goofy or clumsy or an imbecile. No, no. Blaine's tag team partner.... is literally.... a clown. Like.... bright colored jump suit.... green hair.... white face paint... red nose. Um, yeah, THAT type of clown. Madison shakes her head in disbelief, Chandler tries to stifle his laughter and Preston slaps his forehead with his hand. “If there was ever any question as to your legitimacy, Blaine, that right there just completely throws it out the window.”

Madison:
“But baby, didn't you hear? He also used to tag with his big brother,” says Madison, as if tagging with his big brother is supposed to mean a damn thing.

Chandler:
“Hmmm, I wonder if big bro is as much of a loser as little brother is? Or did the big brother finally have that lightbulb turn on over his head, ditched his doofus of a brother and left him standing in the dust. God, I hope so. It would make Blaine's story just that much more pathetic. Preston holds his hand up and keeps just about a half of an inch of space between his thumb and index finger. Yep, THAT much more pathetic.

Madison:
“You know what gets me, honey?”

Chandler:
“What's that, babe?

Madison:
“What I don't get is for two little girls that like to yap so much, why did they wait all the way until now to finally speak up? What happened, boys? Cat got your tongue? You guy's both came down with a case of sore throat? Did you lose your voices? Then again, you both probably screamed for hours after seeing the card and realizing that you two had to step into The Harvard Connection's world, a tag team match. So that's always a plausible explanation, right? But maybe not. So if you didn't lose your voices... or catch a cold.... or the cat didn't grab your tongue, then what kept you two crime fighting buddies quiet for oh so long? Preston, do you have any theories?” Preston looks off into the distance and rubs his chin, clearly in deep thought. He then smirks as he looks back at Chandler and Madison.

Preston:
“Madison, Chandler, please.... it's rather obvious what took these two dweebs so long to talk. You see, they were too busy arguing over who should wear the “Batman” outfit and who should wear the “Robin” outfit” The Harvard Connection snicker. “But it should be clear as day as to which is which. Jared is Batman. He's the one that FRONTIER used to prop up as this beacon of hope, FGA's very own knight in shining armor. That is, until Michael Tomkins came in and totally stole his thunder!

Chandler:
“Booyah, in your face, Jared!”

Preston:
“And of course, Blaine is poor little Robin. He's the unappreciated one. He's the one that plays the background role. He's the trusty sidekick who gets picked on and dismissed and never truly appreciated. But whenever our main superhero gets too big for his britches and winds up in quite the predicament, here comes our sidekick, Blaine, right on cue to save the superhero's bacon and help him save the day. Hmm, sound familiar? It sure does to me! And to think that people actually believe that we make this stuff up. We only call it how we see it. Sort of like saying that Jared and Blaine our absolutely inferior to us in tag team action.

Madison:
“Now, now, guys. Let's call down and give Jared a break. Did you see him? Did you see how somber he was? Did you see how shook up and heartbroken he was? I think I even saw a single tear roll down his cheek. He's clearly going through some things right now. Maybe we should lighten up on Jared and give him the space that he so desperately needs. He failed to yet again win a major championship. I mean think about it. If you were the Buffalo Bills of professional wrestling, wouldn't you be just a tad bit peeved, too? So let's give poor little Jared a break.”

Preston:
“How about..... we don't! How about we just keep piling on that poor bastard?”

Madison:
Madison shrugs her shoulders. “Sounds fine by me!”

Preston:
“I don't care about his mental anguish. I don't care about how he feels like the world is going to end. That's not my problem. Besides, who pissed in his cereal this morning, anyway?”

Chandler:
“Michael Tomkins. Oops, sorry Jared, is that a sore subject. “My bad, yo”. The Harvard Connection cackle. “Listen here, you dunce! Instead of seeing red or getting tunnel vision and focusing directly on Michael “The Lame Duck” Tomkins, what you should be doing is focusing on The Harvard Connection. You know, your opponents for tomorrow night? Remember us? The team that's going to beat you tomorrow night by doing what we do best? Yeah, when it comes to tag team action, we're kind of like a big deal.”

Madison:
“Correction, when it comes to life in general, we're kind of like a big deal.”

Chandler:
“This is true, yes.....”

Preston:
“Boys, it's clear that you two have some unresolved issues going into this match. Jared, you clearly don't like Blaine. And Blaine, I think you're still pretty steamed over Jared beating you, too. Both of you have your eyes on that FGA Heavyweight Championship, but you're going to have to knock each other off to get to it first. As opposed to us? Well, we're clearly on the same page. We're a well-oiled machine that is going to pick you apart, limb from limb, tomorrow night. We are mentally superior to you. We are your physical batter. And least we forget, we are the embodiment of your unrealized potential. On Wednesday Weekly Combat, The Harvard Connection will reign supreme. Anything less would be... uncivilized!

The Harvard Connection:
“HAAAAAA Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!............... BWWWWWAAAAAA Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!.................. MWAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA!”

[The scene fades to crimson, followed by the Harvard “H”.]