*Tyson and Jason make their way out onto the stage, Tyson in another black suit while Jason wears a black Bullet Club shirt with ripped jeans. The two brothers walk down the ramp and enter the ring, Jason pushes the ring announcer up against the ropes and grabs the mic from his hand before kneeing him in the nuts and kicking him out of the ring with a large smile on his face. He gives the mic to Tyson, who taps the top of the microphone waiting for the crowd to stop chanting "Tyson Frost....Is A ****...nananana".*
Tyson: So tonight, myself and my brother will be taking on the duo of Ben Song and The Weebmaster. Wait, what?
*Jason whispers in Tyson's ear. Then backs off and leans against the ropes as a ring attendant gives him a beer.*
Tyson: Oh, The Webmaster, sorry I couldn't really care less about that waste of human flesh. Anyway, Ben Song wants to call us wannabes. "Why?" you idiotic sheep ask? Because we share the same name as some Z list wrestlers in the land of the Rising Sun. Tell you what? How about you prove that we're wannabes? You two talk a big game, you like to sit on your thrones and smash down on your little keyboards but come on, I'm a proven superstar. Go ahead and ask anyone in that locker if they know who Tyson Frost is, I guarantee that you will get the same answer. That answer will be yes, unless you ask jealous pricks that are too self absorbed to see that I carried the last company I worked for.
Yeah, THAT place. The thing is, I'm not mad that Song and Webmaster want to call us wannabes. I'm not mad that Webmaster said he couldn't care less about this match. I'm actually kind of amused. Ben Song and The Webmaster, or as you have referred to them as.....the Songmasters, can come down to this ring later tonight and try, yes TRY, to put their money where their mouth is.
*Tyson passes the mic to Jason*