Cameras suddenly fix on center stage, as a series of teal and cyan pyro blasts go off, and 'Get Your Body Beat' by Combichrist comes into life. With every bass beat the lights strobe different shades of white, grey, teal, cyan. Eventually as the vocals hit Neonero emerges from the curtain, European title draped over his shoulder, walking carefree to the ring, inanely messing with fans along the way.
As he enters the ring, he grabs a mic, bouncing it in the air off the underside of his elbow before speaking.
Neonero: Remember that guy...the one who let himself get eliminated from Wargames first? The guy who let the likes of Mark Flynn take liberties and steal wins despite being teammates?
How about the guy who, despite reaching the Lethal lottery final, was completely overlooked in a fan poll on who'd win the final? Remember how that guy stood aside and let Sid Feder pin Gilmour?
Remember the guy who doesn't want titles? The guy who paid passive compliments to his opponents every so often? The guy who didn’t care if he won or lost matches as long as he left a lasting impression?
The guy who left such a lasting impression not one person voted for him in the 2012 end of year awards?
I bring you one simple message.
Fuck that guy.
I notice rather a few changes around here. It's my sad duty to inform everyone here that there have also been some...changes...to the packaging of this thing you call Neonero. To put it in blunt terms, there is to be less jackassery, and a whole lot more destruction.
Forget what you think you know. And dig that forgettable background character out of the closet in your mind, and please, create your own fugazi scene, kill him in the most imaginative way you can. Because the Neonero you're going to see around here in the coming weeks is a different entity altogether.
What you saw on Madness was just that, Madness. I no longer give a shit about chivalry, doing things the done way, listening to the rules. This isn’t some rebellion or anarchic reaction. This isn't me with the dial turned up. This is still me having fun. I'm just doing it...with new parameters.
Neonero chuckles to himself.
I believe a few people might be sour about life. AJ Powell, Ursula, you are probably vying with each other for revenge, just to see who gets squashed first. I look forwards to seeing who steps up.
And then there’s Mark Flynn. And this title here.
Neonero pats the title on his shoulder.
I’m sure you believe it’s yours, and why not? You won it fair and square. But, alas, I am not interested in ‘fair’, and I’ll leave it to the likes of Cyren to stay ‘square’ – hope he’s having fun pissing blood in his hospital bed after the beating Michael James laid on him by the way.
A devilish grin.
We’ve had our dances, Mark, but the fact is, and we both know it, the fact is you are a shadow of what you were, and for that reason, you carrying this belt is a fucking insult. All you do now is talk and talk, there is no dimension to you. This belt belongs to me now.
For everyone, I wish to announce the unfortunate news that the Neonero GG NORE tour has kicked off. For those of you uninformed, that means ‘Good Game, No Rematch’. Which means no one I beat gets a rematch.
They do, however, have the right to remain sour.
Shame.
Oh, and just in case there’s any confusion over masks...
Neonero holds up his characteristic mask, and walks towards a refuse bin. He places the mask inside, placing a kiss on his two forefingers and pressing it against the forehead.
He then sets it alight, and leaves the scene as the fire, which burns a strange, almost teal hue like a gas fire in the center of the ring, burns away.
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