MaX-Files in Fly Me to the Moon: Max Hopper vs. TJ Alexander
Aug 11, 2022 0:57:52 GMT
kylewilliams and Quinn Castillo like this
Post by Ernie on Aug 11, 2022 0:57:52 GMT
THE STUFF THAT THE OTHER WRESTLERS DON'T SEE, BUT THE AUDIENCE AT HOME DOES.
30th July…
On the bright side of the moon…
All is quiet on the rocky surface, which is riddled with craters from space debris crashing into it over the ages. Remnants of mankind's previous trips to the Earth's natural satellite can be seen littering the area. Off in the distance, a group of bright lights, arranged in a circular formation, start to come into view. The lights zip onto the scene and suddenly come to a complete stop, revealing a large, saucer-shaped craft hovering above the ground. A faint noise can be heard from inside. Is it the hum of an extraterrestrial engine? Is it chatter in an alien 👽 language?
🎶 Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars.
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. 🎶
It is in fact the crooning of Frank Sinatra bumping through a major sound system in this enormous flying saucer. A blinding beam of light scans the surrounding area. Once it has found a suitable spot, the massive, flying object parks inside an accommodating crater, first tapping against the rocky wall behind it before nestling down in the middle.
A stairway lowers from the object, and a figure emerges from the open door, slowly making its way down the stairs until it finally touches down on the ground below, kicking up a cloud of moondust. When the dust settles, it becomes apparent that the figure is none other than wrestling's own paranormal investigator, Max Hopper, wearing a spacesuit!
"I've always hated parallel parking," Max Hopper grumbles, wiping away some of the moondust from the flying saucer with his spacesuit-covered hand. "At least there aren't any dings."
Max Hopper shrugs his shoulders and bounds out of the crater (remember, there is very low gravity on the moon!)
"I suppose if I'm going to get any answers on Project Moonstone, this is a good place to start," Max muses, bouncing along the moon in giant hops (pardon the pun.) "If it weren't for Project Moonstone, mankind never would have had the power to instigate the Interstellar Wars, much less completely wipe the Zeta Reticulans out of existence. And once Zeta Reticuli falls… Phwoar!"
Max sullenly shakes his head. "It's so strange. I used to defend the planet from all kinds of weird things. Now, I'm defending the galaxy from the planet Earth…
"And saving myself from that wretched prison they put me in."
Max eventually finds his way to the Lunar Roving Vehicle. He climbs in. It takes a couple of cranks, but eventually starts up.
"Time to go to the dark side of the moon…" he says, driving off. Just then he hears a ping. Max pulls out his Samsung Galaxy and reads it.
"Hmm? What's this? A new match notification from WrestleVerse…
"Special surprise prize match?!? Gah! I was hoping for a shot at the Eternal Championship!"
Max dials up a number on his phone as he disappears over the horizon.
Still 30th July, but at a lucha match in Ciudad de México…
None other than the retired legendary luchador, corrupt "protector" of Mexico, and leader of the Loco Cartel, El Gringo Loco XLVII himself, has a ringside seat to watch the action. He is scouting not just for talent, but to fulfill his mission in finding the next in the El Gringo Loco line, so that he may act as a guide to the next protector of the descendants of the Nahuatl.
"Some interesting talents," the Cartel leader comments, a little disappointed, "but La Proxima isn't here.
El Gringo Loco huffs. As he lifts himself from his seat with the aid of his cane, he receives a call on his cellphone. He checks to see who it is from, and answers.
"MaX! Cómo estás, amigo?" El Gringo Loco greets the person on the other end, sounding somewhat less than genuine. "Ah, the moon? You don't say. So what can I do for you?"
Not that anyone could see his facial expression underneath his mask, but EGL's body posture is a clear tell that he is dealing with someone who is well annoyed.
"Tranquila, MaX. Calm down. Everything is well in hand. Confía en mí. Afterall, I did make Pat Gordon, Junior a champion… TWICE! Sí. Sí. CruZe will get the job done. I've invested heavily in his bionic legs to give him an edge. He owes me, and he knows what will happen if he fails me."
There is another pause while Max Hopper talks on the other end.
"Escuchame. It doesn't matter who wins it, right? You'll still get access to the Eternal Championship belt. And who knows? Maybe the surprise prize will have something to do with that Projeto Moonstone you're so concerned about."
El Gringo Loco nods. "Obvio. I will see to that. Te prometo. Ok, MaX. Ciao."
El Gringo Loco hangs up the phone. His body posture becomes sinister, threatening, really.
"And more importantly, I will have access to the Eternal Championship…" the greedy Cartel leader mutters under his breath, grinning like the cat who ate the Canary.
"Hey Siri, llama CruZe."
Even Siri, well known for mistaking voice commands, knows better than to fail El Gringo Loco. "Calling CruZe."
Meanwhile, on the dark side of the moon…
The only illumination comes from the headlights of the Lunar Roving Vehicle, which comes to a complete stop about ten meters in front of a rather curiously arranged group of rocks. MaX climbs out of the rover and situates himself in the dead center of the formation, where a hidden lift slowly lowers him into the moon's interior!
“This sure is the stalest green cheese I’ve ever seen."
THE STUFF THAT THE OTHER WRESTLERS WILL SEE.
On the bridge of Max Hopper's flying saucer…
Present day. MaX sits in his ultra-comfy command chair. Beeping noises? Check. Flashing lights on the consoles? Check. An impressive number of buttons on the arm rest? Check again. Max coolly presses a button.
"Message to the WrestleVerse.
"Nearly two weeks have passed since the battle royal to crown an inaugural WrestleVerse Champion at Eternal #1 in Siesta Beach. I was clearly pulling for my teammate, the Six Million Dollar Man, CruZe… or whatever that comes to now with inflation. I'll have to check the consumer price index later. Anyhow, it was Aiden Reynolds who won the day, with the help of his clan of werewolves. Congrats, werewolf-guy!
"I was hoping for a chance to get my hands on the Eternal Championship, for investigative purposes, of course. Instead I find myself wishing CruZe the best of luck in winning it while I face someone I eliminated from the battle royal for a special surprise prize. It sounds like a unique opportunity, if you ask me."
Max's eyebrows crinkle up above his sunglasses in a look of befuddlement.
"TJ Alexander is a bit of a curiosity in himself: a self-made wrestler who literally started in his own backyard, and perhaps the only person from Essex without a spray tan. I'd bank on him still being the only person in WrestleVerse with a vajazzle, though. I mean, you can take the boy out of Essex, but how much of Essex can you really take out of the boy?
"Anyway, I hope there isn't any 'ag,' to put it in Essex speak, for me throwing you out of the battle royal. At the end of the day, we were all just trying to survive, so let's just draw a line under it and move on."
Max's tone becomes one with more gravity, now.
"This match, while it isn't for the Eternal Championship, could still be a vital one, not just for me personally, but for the entire galaxy. It could have something to do with Project Moonstone. And if it does, or if the prize is anything that can aid me in my investigation, then it's imperative that I win it. So, TJ, I won't be resting on my laurels. I'll be pulling out all the stops, because the fate of the galaxy itself could be at stake!
"After all, nobody wants the streets flooded with Daleks trying to 'EXTERMINATE' everyone, right?" Max points out, doing his best impression of a Dalek from Doctor Who.
"I Want to believe the truth about Project Moonstone is out there… And I will find it. Message ends."
MaX gives an Arnold Simmer type salute as the scene ends.
30th July…
On the bright side of the moon…
All is quiet on the rocky surface, which is riddled with craters from space debris crashing into it over the ages. Remnants of mankind's previous trips to the Earth's natural satellite can be seen littering the area. Off in the distance, a group of bright lights, arranged in a circular formation, start to come into view. The lights zip onto the scene and suddenly come to a complete stop, revealing a large, saucer-shaped craft hovering above the ground. A faint noise can be heard from inside. Is it the hum of an extraterrestrial engine? Is it chatter in an alien 👽 language?
🎶 Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars.
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. 🎶
It is in fact the crooning of Frank Sinatra bumping through a major sound system in this enormous flying saucer. A blinding beam of light scans the surrounding area. Once it has found a suitable spot, the massive, flying object parks inside an accommodating crater, first tapping against the rocky wall behind it before nestling down in the middle.
A stairway lowers from the object, and a figure emerges from the open door, slowly making its way down the stairs until it finally touches down on the ground below, kicking up a cloud of moondust. When the dust settles, it becomes apparent that the figure is none other than wrestling's own paranormal investigator, Max Hopper, wearing a spacesuit!
"I've always hated parallel parking," Max Hopper grumbles, wiping away some of the moondust from the flying saucer with his spacesuit-covered hand. "At least there aren't any dings."
Max Hopper shrugs his shoulders and bounds out of the crater (remember, there is very low gravity on the moon!)
"I suppose if I'm going to get any answers on Project Moonstone, this is a good place to start," Max muses, bouncing along the moon in giant hops (pardon the pun.) "If it weren't for Project Moonstone, mankind never would have had the power to instigate the Interstellar Wars, much less completely wipe the Zeta Reticulans out of existence. And once Zeta Reticuli falls… Phwoar!"
Max sullenly shakes his head. "It's so strange. I used to defend the planet from all kinds of weird things. Now, I'm defending the galaxy from the planet Earth…
"And saving myself from that wretched prison they put me in."
Max eventually finds his way to the Lunar Roving Vehicle. He climbs in. It takes a couple of cranks, but eventually starts up.
"Time to go to the dark side of the moon…" he says, driving off. Just then he hears a ping. Max pulls out his Samsung Galaxy and reads it.
"Hmm? What's this? A new match notification from WrestleVerse…
"Special surprise prize match?!? Gah! I was hoping for a shot at the Eternal Championship!"
Max dials up a number on his phone as he disappears over the horizon.
Still 30th July, but at a lucha match in Ciudad de México…
None other than the retired legendary luchador, corrupt "protector" of Mexico, and leader of the Loco Cartel, El Gringo Loco XLVII himself, has a ringside seat to watch the action. He is scouting not just for talent, but to fulfill his mission in finding the next in the El Gringo Loco line, so that he may act as a guide to the next protector of the descendants of the Nahuatl.
"Some interesting talents," the Cartel leader comments, a little disappointed, "but La Proxima isn't here.
El Gringo Loco huffs. As he lifts himself from his seat with the aid of his cane, he receives a call on his cellphone. He checks to see who it is from, and answers.
"MaX! Cómo estás, amigo?" El Gringo Loco greets the person on the other end, sounding somewhat less than genuine. "Ah, the moon? You don't say. So what can I do for you?"
Not that anyone could see his facial expression underneath his mask, but EGL's body posture is a clear tell that he is dealing with someone who is well annoyed.
"Tranquila, MaX. Calm down. Everything is well in hand. Confía en mí. Afterall, I did make Pat Gordon, Junior a champion… TWICE! Sí. Sí. CruZe will get the job done. I've invested heavily in his bionic legs to give him an edge. He owes me, and he knows what will happen if he fails me."
There is another pause while Max Hopper talks on the other end.
"Escuchame. It doesn't matter who wins it, right? You'll still get access to the Eternal Championship belt. And who knows? Maybe the surprise prize will have something to do with that Projeto Moonstone you're so concerned about."
El Gringo Loco nods. "Obvio. I will see to that. Te prometo. Ok, MaX. Ciao."
El Gringo Loco hangs up the phone. His body posture becomes sinister, threatening, really.
"And more importantly, I will have access to the Eternal Championship…" the greedy Cartel leader mutters under his breath, grinning like the cat who ate the Canary.
"Hey Siri, llama CruZe."
Even Siri, well known for mistaking voice commands, knows better than to fail El Gringo Loco. "Calling CruZe."
Meanwhile, on the dark side of the moon…
The only illumination comes from the headlights of the Lunar Roving Vehicle, which comes to a complete stop about ten meters in front of a rather curiously arranged group of rocks. MaX climbs out of the rover and situates himself in the dead center of the formation, where a hidden lift slowly lowers him into the moon's interior!
“This sure is the stalest green cheese I’ve ever seen."
THE STUFF THAT THE OTHER WRESTLERS WILL SEE.
On the bridge of Max Hopper's flying saucer…
Present day. MaX sits in his ultra-comfy command chair. Beeping noises? Check. Flashing lights on the consoles? Check. An impressive number of buttons on the arm rest? Check again. Max coolly presses a button.
"Message to the WrestleVerse.
"Nearly two weeks have passed since the battle royal to crown an inaugural WrestleVerse Champion at Eternal #1 in Siesta Beach. I was clearly pulling for my teammate, the Six Million Dollar Man, CruZe… or whatever that comes to now with inflation. I'll have to check the consumer price index later. Anyhow, it was Aiden Reynolds who won the day, with the help of his clan of werewolves. Congrats, werewolf-guy!
"I was hoping for a chance to get my hands on the Eternal Championship, for investigative purposes, of course. Instead I find myself wishing CruZe the best of luck in winning it while I face someone I eliminated from the battle royal for a special surprise prize. It sounds like a unique opportunity, if you ask me."
Max's eyebrows crinkle up above his sunglasses in a look of befuddlement.
"TJ Alexander is a bit of a curiosity in himself: a self-made wrestler who literally started in his own backyard, and perhaps the only person from Essex without a spray tan. I'd bank on him still being the only person in WrestleVerse with a vajazzle, though. I mean, you can take the boy out of Essex, but how much of Essex can you really take out of the boy?
"Anyway, I hope there isn't any 'ag,' to put it in Essex speak, for me throwing you out of the battle royal. At the end of the day, we were all just trying to survive, so let's just draw a line under it and move on."
Max's tone becomes one with more gravity, now.
"This match, while it isn't for the Eternal Championship, could still be a vital one, not just for me personally, but for the entire galaxy. It could have something to do with Project Moonstone. And if it does, or if the prize is anything that can aid me in my investigation, then it's imperative that I win it. So, TJ, I won't be resting on my laurels. I'll be pulling out all the stops, because the fate of the galaxy itself could be at stake!
"After all, nobody wants the streets flooded with Daleks trying to 'EXTERMINATE' everyone, right?" Max points out, doing his best impression of a Dalek from Doctor Who.
"I Want to believe the truth about Project Moonstone is out there… And I will find it. Message ends."
MaX gives an Arnold Simmer type salute as the scene ends.