NEO TOKYO vs. STATIC AGE [Dark Match]

The Abbozzo Gallery in Toronto, Ontario. Artwork, both modern and contemporary, are hung professionally across clean, white walls. The open architecture, soft lighting, and reflective wood floors provide a gentle ambience, a feeling of openness and quiet isolation.

Standing in stark contrast to that soothing atmosphere are the vibrant reds of one Brooklyn Light and Iota Psi--Elysium's newest tag team, collectively known as Neo Tokyo. They're dressed casually, with black gloves and longer sleeves on her button up shirt hiding what would be Iota's more robotic aspects. She calmly takes in the sight of the works on display while her more hot headed partner paces, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans.

"How much do you know about art?," Iota asks, hazarding a glance across her shoulder.

Brooklyn stops, and shrugs her shoulders. "I know, uh... Picasso, and anyone a Ninja Turtle is named after. Oh, and I know way too much about Bob Ross--dude was a master sergeant in the Air Force."

"That's not just an urban legend?," Iota clarifies, turning more of herself toward Brooklyn. "I still remember everyone claiming Mr. Rogers was a sniper, or something similar."

"Nah, Bob Ross was legit." The faint hint of a grin inches across Brooklyn's face. "Wet-on-wet painting helped him deal with military stuff... y'know, mentally. That's why he was so soft spoken, too--after getting outta the Air Force, he said he'd never yell at anyone again. Might not've been the greatest artist in history, but I respect what he did. He made a difference in the world, and not just by serving his country."

Iota nods, and smiles. "I know what you mean. Though his finished products could be argued as simplistic, his TV show did a great deal to inspire future artists--and anyone else delving into creative fields. There's a certain... pretentiousness, I think, to a lot of modern art. People attempt to make statements, but those statements have little weight behind them--they're often just... controversy, bottled up and sold at auction. They lack real conviction, real purpose, a paycheck not withstanding. Our first opponents for Elysium--Kara Scene and Leland Morgan... they consider themselves artists. I do wonder what they hope to accomplish with their art--if it's to inspire, and draw on the raw emotions of those that witness it... or if it is, simply, another arrogant sales pitch."

Brooklyn nods, and pauses to inhale deeply. The grin widens. "To steal an old phrase... I don't know art, but I know what I like. I'm not a poet or a painter, but I have smeared fluids across my share of canvases. These guys see fighting as an art form? Fine. Cool. Whatever. Fighting, I can do. They wanna make art? We can make art. We can make art all over the Sanctum Warehouse--coat the walls, scrawl novellas on the turnbuckles, compose symphonies on our way through the crowd, it doesn't matter to me. Art, science, religion--I don't care how you look at it, I'm PERSONALLY there for one purpose and that's to leave a mark. I just hope Static Age is ready to have five fingerpainted across their faces."

Iota Psi stifles a chuckle, a gloved hand briefly masking her mouth. "So, we're not going for a more ambiguous piece, then?"

"Nah," Brooklyn replies bluntly. "I don't do 'open to interpretation.' If this match is art, it's not trash stapled to a wall, or soup cans in a bunch of different colors, or whatever the hell people are calling art these days. No, it's a flashing neon sign. I want it big, gaudy, and impossible to miss. You wanna read into this artistic performance, you can read it on my lips: Neo Tokyo is here in Elysium Pro. We're gonna shake things up, we're gonna put asses in seats... and we're coming for those tag team titles.

I've been keeping tabs on things--and I watched Chapter V. I watched it real... damn... close."

"As did I," states Iota, a little more solemnly. "The Enigma Protocol are running roughshod across the company. The last show ended in complete chaos, with unwarranted beatings well in excess of necessity. To think that one of those animals could soon claim the World Championship, as well--that Miguel Villalobos could soon be the figurehead of Elysium Pro..."

Her voice drifts off, her gaze wandering.

"Yeah." Brooklyn gives a few shallow nods. "So this match? Maybe the Static Age are onto something. Hell, maybe they're right, maybe this WILL be art... because me and you, Iota, we're gonna provoke an emotional response. We're gonna resonate. We're gonna give the people something to think about, something to mull over going forward. I want everyone, from the people in the crowd to the folks in the back, to see the destructive landscape that unfolds one picture-perfect suplex at a time, and if they take anything away from it, I want it to be this:"

Brooklyn Light cranks her neck around, staring hard into the camera from behind her sunglasses. Her expression is tense, her mouth showing only the vaguest tease of a scowl as she addresses the viewer, directly.


"You step into the ring with Neo Tokyo?

You're making a happy little accident."