I honestly don't know what I expected. With a glum grumble I muttered her way, "I thought you had so many ideas?"

Colette's sparkling hair thwapped with her head. She shouted, "WHAT?" over the dense crowd.

I had to cup my hands around her follicle-covered ear, "Why are we HERE!?"

The dark circle beneath her fanatic eyes had vanished. She pointed her sleeve swallowed hands to the sky. "Why not?!"

The overexuberant cries of people ahead were the only answer I needed. Standing before us was a visceral sea of Starr Park commuters. They had gathered up by the hundreds to stand in a swampy billow of their own B-O. But of course they weren't just standing around without reason. It's just that their reason was as abhorrent as their giddy attitudes.

From the stage center a guitarist strolled up with a mic in hand. He wore a black tuxedo with a giant sombrero covering most of his face. "Who wants to party?" He merrily shouted into the microphone. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Another mundane question from an uninspired artist. And of course these morons ate it up. The volume in the crowded street rose several decibels.

I could feel the headache rising from my stomach. It only got worse when Colette's squeals shattered my left eardrum. I watched as her pupils shifted into stars. "This is so cool!"

I was visibly frustrated, "They do these shows like... twice a week."

She snapped to me with a wild grin, "Isn't that awesome!" I figured any further debate would be an exercise in futility. She always got like this when a brawler was mentioned.

I looked into the surging swarm of fans and had a bit of lunch come up with it. There's no way I'm going into that living tsunami. I turned back with a hand to the air, "Whatever. I'll see you at the shop."

As I made my dramatic exit I felt another tug on my neck. Again, Colette had snagged my scarf without my permission. Unfortunately, she didn't need my permission. Upon closer inspection, it would seem as though my scarf had decided that it didn't want to miss this concert. So when Colette reached out to grab its woven width, it gladly reached out and locked a cottontail around her palms. "Traitor."

Again I found myself getting dragged around by Colette like a collared child. And again I couldn't manage to stay mad.

Though the obscene number of bodies pushing and prodding at my face was enough to flip my lid. I never liked these crowded spaces. I wasn't claustrophobic, I just didn't like people. And these people were the worst kind of people. Causing an uproar over the simple strumming of a guitar. It was despicable.

Though the constant contact with my hips was not the worse feeling. Colette had gone into ultimate-super-valley-girl-overdrive. She couldn't stop pumping her hands through the air while she swayed to and fro. She would often hip-check me to ensure I was partying along. Of course, I wouldn't be caught dead dancing to such an inane display. Though my scarf was happy to join the festivities.

It had wrapped Colette up in its tails so she could twirl about like the ashen princess I believed her to be. Though my arms were crossed and my lips sour I did enjoy watching her prance about in the shifting bodies.

I tried to find something else to focus on less my emotions be presented more prominently than my eyeliner. I took inspection of the burgundy stage ahead. We had somehow been pushed to the front of the presentation.

From our new spot ahead of the processions I could see that the aforementioned musician was not alone on stage. He had been joined by a young girl with glimmering ebony skin. Her hair flicked about like the lapping tongue of a fire wick. Her attire was blatantly inspired by Hispanic entertainers of old with its knee-length burnt orange skirt and a purple visage across her torso.

She waved about a wand with a small flame dancing with her flowing body. From time to time I would observe as she spat fuel from her mouth and let a flame float over our heads. Every time she did these simpletons (and Colette) would holler as if they were monkeys watching a forest burn.

Colette's infatuation with the display wasn't surprising. And neither was the performance by the guitarist beside her. But the way his notes could be seen by the naked eye was rather marvelous.

I gazed on as his notes would fly into the ears of the fools beside me. It was like they were pulling the strings in the listener's body to sway along with his every word. Not so keen on being so easily controlled I absently batted away the approaching notes. But due to my scarf's prior commitments to entertaining Colette, I had to, unfortunately, surrender to the instrumental invasions.

Now that they had entered I understood what was happening. This musician had possessed all these weak-willed simpletons and was quite literally making them dance like puppets. Now it made sense why they were moving back-and-forth with such monotony.

I had to drown out the sound so I could focus on fighting this musical mind control. Maybe these regular humans were being possessed by him, but I wouldn't allow this charlatan to dupe me. The Brawler genes within me would not succumb to such a petty trick so easily.

"Hey, Edgar..." I heard Colette's voice through my inner turmoil. When I looked her way she had glossy eyes just like the rest of these sheep. "Isn't this the best?"

I should have known she would succumb to such an easy trick. Besides, looking back at the musician, it wasn't surprising she would give in so easily.

Human bodies are made of flesh and bones. But the man controlling this now somber tune ahead of me was all the bone minus any flesh. Instead of the pale and pasty hue one would expect from the skeletons in media this creature had grown sun-bleached from constant exposure to our shining star. But the yellow hue grew stronger the closer to his head you reached. I assumed the shadow that was cast by his massive black sombrero allowed him what little shade he could spare when he lived his life on the open stage.

I thought back to the pages of my coworker's scrapbook. I remembered there was a page dedicated to a musician. She also had several loose strings from his guitar tapped within the thin confines. Now that I think about it, his name was. "Poco."

At the mere utterance of his name the females around me swooned. Even Colette ended up falling into my arms. Or rather my scarf who reacted to my vision. I had to help her to her feet while I kept my eyes keenly on the skeleton ahead. He sported a glistening grin as he washed his glowing eyes over the crowd.

I swore we locked eyes for a second. Only an instance. Yet I know we both understood. We were two brawlers that registered the other's abilities.

With a climactic chord, Poco finished his performance with a giant pyre being created behind him. His female partner ingested a massive amount of fuel from one of the flasks on her waist. The size of the flame stretched higher than the buildings around us. It also unintentionally caught the drapes that sat overhead ablaze. Thankfully a fire crew ran in to quell the problem before it could develop.

When Poco's music finally ended so did the hold he had on the audience. I could see the lights returning to their lids. Even Colette finally awoke from her walking slumber. When she saw her predicament she jumped out of my arms post-haste. She absently fixed her hair with a faint blush appearing on her face.

I must admit I too was a bit embarrassed at the odd arrangement, but I couldn't bother to show my discourse. This man. Poco. He might be a bigger threat than that pathetic sheriff from before.

A stagehand rushed on pitch to pass a mic into the musician's mitt. His voice was no different from the serenading tune of his songs. "How was that?" His question over the speakers was met with a general uproar of praise and adoration. The smooth tune that he closed this show with did unintentionally soothe my aching head. Though the crowd made sure to bring it back in full force.

He continued with a rousing, "Fantastico!" He motioned to the ebony maiden behind him, "And what about the light show?" Again these morons lost their minds just at the mention of her fireworks.

She too retrieved a mic and meekly spoke, "Oh stop it. It wasn't that special." She had a matching Hispanic tone of voice though she sounded much more excited than Poco. Even though she started so humbly she then turned coat by spewing another array of dancing flames over our heads. I could feel the blazing embers roast my scalp. The cheers she got in turn must have been satisfactory as she blushed a bit from their praise.

Poco took the lead once more, "That's Amber everybody." Amber. That was her name. I remember now. Colette had a page in her scrapbook that was singed around the edges. It was only that page so I was confused before. Now it made sense.

Two astounding presences. One with the ability to intake ridiculous amounts of lighter fluids with hair like the fire she spews. The other, a living skeleton with sentient music that literally lifts you off your feet. And of course, they are both within Colette's scrapbook. I was certain about one but I needed confirmation on the other. I moved to her side to ask the question but she unintentionally provided my answer. "Aren't Brawlers just the coolest?!"

So I was right. They're both Brawlers. Looking back at Amber I didn't see why I had any doubts. Her hair was a controlled blaze and she had just finished drinking gasoline. Not something your average human can do without dying.

The macabre mariachi spoke up, "We can't thank you all enough for coming out today. It's awesome fans like you that make these shows possible." This time Poco's words were greeted by scattered cheers from the now hyper-focused audience. Poco let out a few light chuckles as a somber mood washed over us. "Yes thank you. But I know some of you have heard the news."

I was fortunately privy to this information already. Colette had whined about this once or twice. Poco explained the reason behind his now dreary tone, "I'm sorry to admit but the rumors are true." Amber wrapped a sturdy arm around her musical amigo. He took a deep breath and managed, "The PocoxAmber concerts will be canceled."

I managed to brace myself for the overwhelming tears that these mindless drones would instinctually release. Through muffled drums, I listened as they wept as if a mighty hero had taken their last breath.

Could I be blamed for rolling my eyes at such a repugnant display? Their infernal wails twisted my intestines into knots. Even my scarf assisted by clasping my ears shut with its tails. Though it did hurt when I caught a whiff of Colette's sniffling. I might hate these sorts of events, but I hate to see her cry much more. She is my coworker after all.

I was able to take a vertical stance again as I stared up at the performers. They seemed to be brought to tears in turn. Poco's face leaked a green liquid from his hollow sockets while Amber's tears turned to mist against her blazing cheeks. It was truly pathetic. Unsurprisingly Colette had chosen to weep into my shoulder as well. She used the scarf's tail as a tissue while she screamed, "It isn't fair!" An action that the scarf shuttered at.

After a minute of general outrage from the sudden reveal, Amber managed to speak. Or she tried, but her voice was so garbled by the mucus building in her throat that she ended up turning away to heave to herself. Poco again took the reigns. He covered his eyes as he choked out, "I'm so sorry. Sorry-Sorry that," he sharply inhaled the pain away, "we can't stay with you longer."

I noticed that his mouth still had a smile forming around the edges. Immediately after seeing his odd look, Poco snatched his arm from his face and smiled at the fans. "Because the PocoxAmber Experience is-" the duo stepped back allowing for a curtain to roll down from above. Draping down to the floor below was a burgundy tarp that revealed the news- "is going on tour!"

I was unfortunately too stunned to prepare. The fans all screamed until their lungs burst. I was also at the forefront of their screams which meant I had to absorb the full force of their cheers as if I were on stage.

Though even this sea of people screaming paled in comparison to Colette's squeals. She reached a pitch so high that I couldn't hear her anymore. I just saw her face glowing with joy. I assumed my scarf could hear her as it quickly clasped her mouth shut.

Undeterred by the swift silencing Colette made no waste in wrapping me up in a hug. She had buried her face into my shoulderblades and I could smell the minty-spike shampoo she bought from Starr Shop. I had to shift my weight to accommodate her but she swiftly relieved the pressure so she could see my reactions.

Our noses were practically touching but she never cared about our proximity. Another trait I simultaneously adorned and despised about her. "Did you hear?! They're going on-"

"On tour. Yes, I heard." I looked around and noticed how everyone was celebrating as if they had won the world series. "I don't get it. Why are you so happy?" I tried to focus on Colette but when I looked back I couldn't not stare at her petite lips. So with my eyes averted I managed, "If they go on tour you don't get to see them twice a week. Won't that suck?"

Colette (unfortunately) left my grasp as she pointed to the skies, "I might not be able to see them live but now the world will recognize their greatness." The pose she stunted was comical at best but embarrassing no less. My scarf took the honor of facepalming in my arms stead.

Back on stage Amber had recovered and continued their announcement. "We'll be traveling around the world giving our performance for massive audiences." She sported a cheeky grin. "All thanks to our partner-"

For some reason, Amber crouched to the wood below her. On cue, all the viewers matched her strange actions. I was left standing above the exuberant masses as they started some strange humming ritual. It sounded like a car's engine running on idle in the distance. Had Colette not tugged on my shirttail I would not have joined in their absurd games but alas, I found myself crouching down as well.

From our lowered position I whispered, "What's going on?"

"Just play along," She merrily shot back. With a glazed-over grimace I proceeded to hum with these fools.

Though I soon found that what comes next would be far worse. From her raised platform Amber jumped up screaming the name, "El Primo!" And then the rest of the audience (unfortunately me included) jumped up screaming this man's name. And like clockwork the annoying cheers began once more.

While the fans acted like the deranged children they were, I tried my best to grab Colette's attention. "Hey, Colette... who's El Primo?" However she couldn't hear me over the uproar.

We both heard Amber though, "That's right. Thanks to El Primo, we will be joining the SPPW on their world tour as his managers."

While the crowd popped I managed to snag Colette's attention. "What's the SPPW?"

She took a deep breath, "You don't know what the SPPW is?" Her rushed question caught the ear of some nearby fans. They listened on with wonder as she explained, "SPPW stands for Starr Park Professional Wrestling. It's an elite company that shows off the best performers in the world."

At the explanation a fan reached out an ecstatic hand. Colette gladly gave them a sleeve-swallowed hi-five. She whipped back to me with her silver hair flying about, "It's the best show in Starr Park."

I grumbled, "You said that about these performers."

With a shark-tooth grin, she responded, "All the shows are the best!"

Why do I even try with her?

I was able to tune back into Amber's speech. "So please come see us off tonight as we introduce Starr Parks Champion, EL PRIMO!" With that, the show officially ended. I expect most people to retreat from the scene but a surprising number stayed to get a handshake with the Brawlers ahead.

I looked around for a clock and noticed that our break was minutes from being up. Lucky timing. "Come on, Colette. Breaks almost over." Again she snatched my scarf. When I turned back I saw that annoying grin on her face. "What?"

"Let's go."

I pointed back the way we came. "That's... what I'm doing."

She shook her head back and forth, "No not there. To the show."

I looked between her and the gathered crowd. "The show's over."

She seemed a bit miffed at my confusion. "Edgar," she grumbled. I shrugged for her to explain. I was admittedly very perplexed, "I mean the SPPW. Let's see the show."

I was rightfully astonished by her suggestion. "Professional Wrestling?"

"Yeah, we have to see it live. This is the last show in Starr Park for the year. We have to catch it."

I held back a frustrated groan. Professional Wrestling did not sound like fun in the slightest. Though I was able to get an easy way out. "Even if I wanted to we have to get back to work." Colette pouted but I could tell she agreed. The last thing we needed was to lose our jobs over some silly sport.

Just as I made my way for the exit a bystander grabbed our attention. It was a taller male with dark blue hair covering the majority of his face, "Awe don't worry little dudes. The show doesn't start till like... nine. I'm sure ya jobs won't keep ya that long."

As the nosy bro made his exit I was greeted with the squeal of an over ecstatic Colette. "No."

"Our shift ends at eight-thirty. We can totally make it."

"I don't want to watch Pro Wrestling."

Colette put on her puppy-dog eyes, "Why not? You don't wanna watch it with me?"

Dammit. "It's not that I don't want to watch with you... it's just." She gave me no quarter, reaching into my personal space once more for an answer. I bit my lip before shouting, "Wrestling is fake."

As that final word left my mouth a silence fell over the crowd. I could feel hundreds of eyes staring through me. There were thousands of daggers murdering me millions of times over.

Even Colette could feel the tone shift. She to knew that I had committed the penultimate taboo. She quickly helped me wrap my face within my scarf, "Sorry. Sorry. He's new. We'll just-"

"HEY!" A sharp female voice roared over the mic. From the peak of my scarf's cover, I looked back to the stage. Amber's pupils had shifted to giant flames as she stared at us. "What did you just say, punk?"

I admittedly did feel much worse now. I knew I shouldn't have said it but Colette wouldn't stop prying. And with the glare that I was getting from the rapidly forming mob, I knew that I wouldn't make it out unscathed.

Amber continued, "Did you just call wrestling fake?!" When she said it again there were scattering murmurs. I could hear their plots in the background. I knew they were hoping for my demise. "Why don't you come up here and say that again?"

The last time a Brawler wanted a piece of me I handled it with general ease. Save for the gaping hole he left in my chest. But this time Poco and Amber wouldn't be my only problems. I would have to fend off a visceral mob of super fans as well. And worse than that. Colette might get wrapped up in my mess once again.

I tried to think up a response but Poco spoke up. He sported a smile as he calmly stated, "Calm down, Amber. Everyone calm down." He addressed the mob directly. His voice alone seemed to dull their knife-like attitudes. "I know he said the forbidden word but let's be honest. We've all said it before."

The crowd begrudgingly agreed with Poco's honest analysis but refused to go quietly. I mentally noted that I would need to thank Poco in the future for saving my skin. Though I might have to remove that note. Because Poco immediately pointed in my direction saying, "Come up here, kid." I was flabbergasted. I pointed at myself looking for confirmation. Poco chuckled, "Yep. Come on. Don't be shy."

I took an instinctual step back. If I run now, there's no way they can catch me. If only I wasn't be pushed forward by the mob of frustrated fans! Those crazed animals even lifted me and placed me on stage. My scarf couldn't even react fast enough to fight them off. When I was firmly stationed above I turned to see the fans again staring daggers at me. I couldn't tell if they were angry or jealous. I feared they might be both.

I also saw my coworker's muddled frown. She seemed horrified that I had again been singled out by a Brawler. A duo no less. I still wonder why I'm always such a magnet for problems.

When I turned to Poco I noticed how his eye sockets were surrounded by an array of pink-and-green flowers. He seemed so kind. At least on the outside. But the way he stared at me was filled with a toxic amount of malice.

I, unintelligently, turned away from him. Now I was staring into the snarling flames of Amber's rage. She looked like a caged animal ready to rip my throat apart. No matter where I looked, all I saw was the resentment I had unintentionally created.

A boney hand rested on my shoulder. My scarf reflexively swatted it away, eliciting another outroar from his adoring fans. He defused the situation with a deadly amount of ease. After little input he managed to quell their rage. "Now. Tell me, kid. What's your name?"

I regretfully responded, "Edgar." I then noticed Colette face-palming as I had again revealed my identity to the ever-intense crowd.

Poco laughed, "Edgar! Good name." He paced me for a bit, looking up and down my body like an inspector. I could feel him looking through my black bangs at the eye I hid behind them. He tried touching my scarf but it flinched from his grasp. Then he stood at my opposing side once more. "Tell me, Edgar. What kind of Pro Wrestling have you seen?"

That's an odd question. "I've watched those shows on TV. And I had some friends in school that talked about it."

When they heard my answer the fans booed me like I had forgotten my lines in a play. Poco took the lead, "So you've only seen those watered-down television fights." He sat at the stage center as he announced, "We were all once virgins to the truth. We should welcome him." He played a quick chord that sounded like the beginning of a fast-paced battle theme, "He is about to experience TRUE PRO WRESTLING."

I was forced to receive the full force of their celebration. I swear the lime tears that run off his boney face must be like holy water to these apes. He strolled up to me. His proximity was akin to Colette's lack of personal space. I wanted to back away but I could feel Amber's heat radiating behind me.

He happily said, "Why don't you come?" Without even me noticing he slipped something into my work vest's pocket. He whispered, "Those are front row tickets plus backstage passes." I tried to back away and throw the tickets to the floor. Just as my hands reached my pocket Amber quickly snapped ahold of my arm.

She sneered, "He was gonna give those to some real fans. Consider yourself lucky he graced you with them."

My scarf ran up to my mouth. With muffled speech, I whispered back. "I would rather turn these into origami than go to your stupid show."

Poco pointed at the crowd. I could see several men and women heated that I was in such close proximity to these superstars. I then saw the starry-eyed stare of Colette. Poco snickered, "Look at those eyes. She's so excited that her friend got to meet us."

Amber chimed in, "I'd guess she's also a fan of El Primo. Be a shame if she couldn't see the last show of the year."

I couldn't stop looking at her. Those big-beady ebony/amber eyes. They had trapped me. I clicked my tongue as my arm relaxed. Amber released her grip and I snatched my arm away from them. I jumped down from the stage without any further discussion. Upon my graceful landing beside Colette, I managed to grumble out a, "Let's go," as I trudged out the venue.

As we made our exit I could hear the angry growls of those peons they called fans. I guess I had disrespected their idols. Though I doubt they would sound any different if they had heard the conversation we had above.

Once we strolled out of earshot I was stabbed by another of Colette's childish questions, "So... we're still going, right?"