Post by The Human Upbeat on Jan 5, 2012 18:53:02 GMT -5
It appears to be a calm and perfectly ordinary day outside of EUW Headquarters. Birds are chirping while clean cut executives mosey about the offices. Some sit calm in their offices, a little classical music playing in the background. A few even sit with more contemporary or classic rock playing. Good music, but simply as edgy or loud as this place is going to get. It is then that things start to go awry.
A thumping is heard within the headquarters. It is largely erratic, but appears to form around some unheard regular rhythm. It climbs and begins to get louder with the moments. Outside of headquarters, a 1992 Buick Century in a smooth and unmistakable color of grandma gold pulls up. Car alarms start sounding all around the headquarters, as birds in area trees start fluttering away at high speeds. The ungodly noise is that of the bass emanating from the vehicle here. The windows are then rolled down to reveal a man in his early 20s with a rugged beard and a look about him that practically screams "I don't know what you people are so worked up about."
He turns down the sound system incredibly contradictory to the vehicle he's driving and yells out the window at a man in front of a sign that says "Valet Parking." In a loud, rude, and yet somehow non-threatening tone, the man shouts "Is this the parking for the wrestling place?! I have an interview!" The valet nods and motions him closer. You hear "Thanks bro!" spout from the vehicle before he rolls up the windows and pulls up next to the valet. Out steps a man just under six feet tall. He is not large and muscular, but rather looks like very possibly the most well conditioned and perfectly toned man for miles. He leaves the door open and sort of bounces around the car before tossing the keys to the valet and leaving him with a final, "Spike Spearow will be back for his sound system on wheels as soon as possible."
Spike Spearow, commonly referred to by himself as 'The Human Upbeat,' doesn't even seem to walk like a human being. It's almost as if he's hopping and bouncing with every step. Likely aiding this is the set of black Monster Beats by Dr. Dre around his neck blasting his music in an almost comparable right to his vehicle, merely on a smaller scale. The surprisingly powerful set of headphones is deafening to anyone near them. Spike busts the doors open and dances his way in before reaching the front desk. He pushes down on the outside of the headphones to mute them temporarily before kindly speaking to the secretary and signing in. "Mr. Rivera will see you upstairs."
Spike gave her a quirky smile before bouncing around the desk and towards the elevator after relieving the mute on his headphones. Spike jams around the elevator the whole way up before jamming his way into Rivera's office. He finally takes a seat in front of a large professional looking desk, continuing to jam out and bounce in the chair before Rivera swivels his chair around. Spike grins, pulling his headphones down and placing them on mute, yet still with the beat running through his head as indicated by his constant and subtle movements.
Rivera, a man who couldn't look much more professional and serious at the moment, almost couldn't contain a feeling of ridiculousness just for being a part of the scene at hand. "Well Mr. Thoma-" This jolts Spike to a dead freeze for a noticeable split second before he grins and continues on. "Bro, this is Spike Spearow. Bounce to the beat and prepare for defeat. Go ahead and bet, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Enough of the niceties and shooting the breeze. Let's cut to the chase, who is Spike gonna face?" Rivera looked at him with a dumbstruck expression, almost unaware an exchange like what just occurred was possible on the face of this planet. He giggled to himself before giving Spike an answer.
"Calm down boy, today is about introductions and paperwork. You're here to meet me, say hello, and sign on the dotted line. In due time you'll have an opponent. Please take this pen and initial here, here, and here." Spike rolled his eyes and scribbled absolute nonsense pretending to be a signature before pushing the document back at Rivera and screaming at the top of his lungs "DDDD-DDDD-DROP. THE BASS!" and unmuting his headphones. Spike pushes his feet on the desk and rolls backwards out of the chair, knocking it over and barreling out of the office like the hurricane he is.
Spike Spearow blazes through the building, jumping into the stairwell and flying down it bouncing off every railing, twisting, and flipping to the bottom. Spearow bursts out the door, dances his way out and finds his sound system on wheels already prepared by the valet. He grabs the keys and leaps on top of the car, sliding over the roof and slightly denting it even more before popping open the door, sliding in and firing it up, immediately setting off car alarms following an ear-splitting scream from his car of "CALL 911 NOW!" Spearow peels away and into the distance.
A thumping is heard within the headquarters. It is largely erratic, but appears to form around some unheard regular rhythm. It climbs and begins to get louder with the moments. Outside of headquarters, a 1992 Buick Century in a smooth and unmistakable color of grandma gold pulls up. Car alarms start sounding all around the headquarters, as birds in area trees start fluttering away at high speeds. The ungodly noise is that of the bass emanating from the vehicle here. The windows are then rolled down to reveal a man in his early 20s with a rugged beard and a look about him that practically screams "I don't know what you people are so worked up about."
He turns down the sound system incredibly contradictory to the vehicle he's driving and yells out the window at a man in front of a sign that says "Valet Parking." In a loud, rude, and yet somehow non-threatening tone, the man shouts "Is this the parking for the wrestling place?! I have an interview!" The valet nods and motions him closer. You hear "Thanks bro!" spout from the vehicle before he rolls up the windows and pulls up next to the valet. Out steps a man just under six feet tall. He is not large and muscular, but rather looks like very possibly the most well conditioned and perfectly toned man for miles. He leaves the door open and sort of bounces around the car before tossing the keys to the valet and leaving him with a final, "Spike Spearow will be back for his sound system on wheels as soon as possible."
Spike Spearow, commonly referred to by himself as 'The Human Upbeat,' doesn't even seem to walk like a human being. It's almost as if he's hopping and bouncing with every step. Likely aiding this is the set of black Monster Beats by Dr. Dre around his neck blasting his music in an almost comparable right to his vehicle, merely on a smaller scale. The surprisingly powerful set of headphones is deafening to anyone near them. Spike busts the doors open and dances his way in before reaching the front desk. He pushes down on the outside of the headphones to mute them temporarily before kindly speaking to the secretary and signing in. "Mr. Rivera will see you upstairs."
Spike gave her a quirky smile before bouncing around the desk and towards the elevator after relieving the mute on his headphones. Spike jams around the elevator the whole way up before jamming his way into Rivera's office. He finally takes a seat in front of a large professional looking desk, continuing to jam out and bounce in the chair before Rivera swivels his chair around. Spike grins, pulling his headphones down and placing them on mute, yet still with the beat running through his head as indicated by his constant and subtle movements.
Rivera, a man who couldn't look much more professional and serious at the moment, almost couldn't contain a feeling of ridiculousness just for being a part of the scene at hand. "Well Mr. Thoma-" This jolts Spike to a dead freeze for a noticeable split second before he grins and continues on. "Bro, this is Spike Spearow. Bounce to the beat and prepare for defeat. Go ahead and bet, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Enough of the niceties and shooting the breeze. Let's cut to the chase, who is Spike gonna face?" Rivera looked at him with a dumbstruck expression, almost unaware an exchange like what just occurred was possible on the face of this planet. He giggled to himself before giving Spike an answer.
"Calm down boy, today is about introductions and paperwork. You're here to meet me, say hello, and sign on the dotted line. In due time you'll have an opponent. Please take this pen and initial here, here, and here." Spike rolled his eyes and scribbled absolute nonsense pretending to be a signature before pushing the document back at Rivera and screaming at the top of his lungs "DDDD-DDDD-DROP. THE BASS!" and unmuting his headphones. Spike pushes his feet on the desk and rolls backwards out of the chair, knocking it over and barreling out of the office like the hurricane he is.
Spike Spearow blazes through the building, jumping into the stairwell and flying down it bouncing off every railing, twisting, and flipping to the bottom. Spearow bursts out the door, dances his way out and finds his sound system on wheels already prepared by the valet. He grabs the keys and leaps on top of the car, sliding over the roof and slightly denting it even more before popping open the door, sliding in and firing it up, immediately setting off car alarms following an ear-splitting scream from his car of "CALL 911 NOW!" Spearow peels away and into the distance.
