(OOC Note: For flavor, Fuzen is the short haired one and Alysia is the one in all black)

Oswald stood in the gym that is usually for basketball, floor hockey, squash, volleyball, or for his parkour practice. Inside the gym however, were several women, each working with his wife and his teenage daughter. His right hand placed upon his bearded chin, stroking the coarse follicles. He examined each movement, from each hip sway, each swing of arm and each step taken. He was making sure this was perfect, making sure that his conglomerate was working at 100% efficiency, not a single drop of wasted sweat, not a single grain of time lost. If he felt something was off, he was the one calling the shots, not the instructors. He may not be a dancer, but he could watch them in real time while the instructors helped by showing dance moves and working with them in real time, if they felt like his daughter and wife were perfect and ready to show off the moves.

"No. Fuzen, sweetie, your foot needs to be a bit less off the ground as if you're standing on the pads of your toes, to get that perfect bend in the knee. Alysia, you're not throwing enough attitude into the dance. You look like you've given up on life."

He could see her scowling at him as if she was ready to kill him. The women have been practicing for days on end and she was at her breaking point and before she was about to tell him off, he grinned.

"There it is! Take that hatred I instilled in you, and use it to throw your body into the movements! You're so close, ladies! I can see how good you all will be when this is all over with!"

He heard his cellphone ringing. He growled and looked at the servant that rose from the shadows next to him with his cellphone in their hands. He took the phone, looking at the number. He then looked at the dancers

"Get some rest, ladies! Get something to eat, something to drink, chat, play video games, whatever you'd like to do. This is going to take a while."

He began to walk away, and once he was out of earshot, the women started to talk, mostly about how much of a perfectionist he is, with the instructors saying that they felt his wife and child were good enough without trying to be perfect.

"What is it?"

He nodded and rolled his eyes.

"You realize I'm trying to increase productivity while corrupting the world through my wife and daughter's dance group, right? We're evil! We don't give a fucking shit about pushing out other POP groups! What? They want to know what B-POP stands for? How fucking stupid is America? Oh, wait, we elected a fucking goddamn orange bell pepper as president and then elected a man who will probably be better, but still shit. I tried to back Bernie, but noooo, you fucks decided that he was a losing candidate. I WONDER WHY! Is it because the cunts at the DNC didn't like losing the money and power if we went socialist-democrat. That's why I pay more than I have to. I may be evil, but if there's NO FUCKING WORKERS THAT ARE IN GOOD HEALTH, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PEOPLE EXPECT ME TO MAKE MONEY!

Jesus Christ, people are so fucking stupid. Anyway, B-POP stands for BOB. I took 3 letters from the acronym and then added POP. We're going to make music, we're gonna enthrall them with the music, and people will be chanting for us. You see how many people are figuratively sucking our collective cocks every time we go out there?! They're mindless sheep! They don't fucking don't know any better! They're still going to consume my products, in every pie in every country I can put my fingers inside of, and then raking out chunks of them. The B-POP dancers will be the breaking point. Look at how fanatic K-POP fans are. They're going to fucking love my group!

Speaking of. I need to go to finish watching over them. Call me if it's something GOD-FUCKING-DAMN IMPORTANT OR I WILL DELETE YOU!"

Oswald growled heavily, heading over to his bedroom, to relax for a moment, allowing his family and the instructors time to relax before he works them back into perfection as he calls for the camera to take a video of him, recording what comes next.

---

"So, I have other things to tend to. You people wouldn't understand what it's like being perfect in almost everything you do. All you people do is sit on your asses, thinking of the things you would do if you had the chance instead of taking those chances, those dreams, right by the dick. Give that shit the ol' dick twist! Make it your bitch or you will fucking drown like the worthless garbage you people are.

Speaking of garbage. Hello Halocen. Who are you? From what I can tell, you're worse than several people here. You're not really worth my time, as I get ready for my PPV match. Here's some words, though. Pretty, pretty words.

You're a nobody. You lost to Tommy Wish. I beat Wish. Process of elimination dictates that you will lose. You may think you have a shot at beating me. You may be hyping yourself up, thinking 'I'm new! I'm good! I'm going to take on the big bad wolf and save Grandma!' That's going to happen. I've mauled the hunter, you join your grandma in my belly, then later I will shit your remains out like Maverick did on a belt.

Halocen, you must be on hallucinogens, because you're not winning. You're going to get utterly destroyed and you will quit the XWF after another defeat. Save your breath, save yourself, retire, because you will amount to nothing here.

Oh, and, join us. Don't forget that. Ever."

The camera fades to black.