Work Text:
Another year, another Monster Mania coming to an end, observed Panpan. He stood at the top of the upper bowl of Polygon Arena, leaning on the chipped railing, and watched as the crew disassembled the set. Last night had been unforgettable, from the Saffron Pile-On, which had seen Chiquita Dave’s victory slip through his fingers - much like his well-oiled opponent - to the valiant, if ultimately futile efforts of a hubristic Turbovicki against The Final Pam. He felt a tiny twinge of sadness seeing this year’s spectacle officially come to an end, but it gave him some comfort to know that he and Randyjohnson had left their mark.
The fight against The Boy-Mayor of Second Life and Totino’s had been one of the most highly anticipated match-ups at this year’s Mania, and Panpan spent the entire day pacing the dressing room, desperately anxious not to fuck it up when they stepped into the ring. The feud between The Campaign and Toss Team had been a huge draw this season, and the smarks on both sides were expecting something big. He remembered his reaction when Randyjohnson had come up with the idea to reverse their usual toss configuration. She was taking a break between sets of shoulder presses and walked over to where Pan was doing crunches on the floor. It was less than two weeks before the big event, and Panpan’s mind was completely focused on making sure he was at peak tossability. Her face had been as impassive as ever, but Panpan could see a mischievous glint in her one working eye. Panpan had flat-out refused as soon as he heard the pitch. They’d never tried anything like it before. Panpan’s character had practically been designed from the ground up just to be thrown. He was Randy’s beautiful baseball boy, and that was what the crowds loved about them. It couldn’t be done, he told his partner, no way. Not to mention, he added, that having the weight of a high-speed, amped-up Randyjohnson land on top of them could very easily kill a certain digital world’s youthful elected official or his pizza-clad campaign manager. Randy had shrugged and returned to finish her set before hitting the showers, and Panpan foolishly assumed that would be the end of that. He got back down on the mats and tried to refocus on the upcoming championship.
The next thing Pan knew, Randyjohnson was presenting him with a ten day intensive workout plan to get him ready to premiere the new move. She had apparently spoken to The Campaign, who were as excited as she was, which would explain why The Boy-Mayor was hovering over him in the gym every day, telling him that he should really be working his lats harder. He seemed to think that the two of them shared some kind of bond as the smaller halves of their respective tag-teams, and that Panpan needed a fellow small-boy to take him under their wing. He rolled his eyes and tried to tune out The Boy-Mayor's unsolicited expertise and finish his set so they could get to rehearsal.
After a truncated but productive week and a half of training, Panpan and Randyjohnson stood backstage in preparation for the main event. He preened his mohawk and moustache and looked up at his partner, trying to glean whether she shared any of the anxiety he was feeling. Her towering frame blocked the lights behind her, the glow reflecting off her scalp and rendering her somehow even more impressive. Panpan took a deep breath. He trusted Randy more than anyone. She had been like a big sister to him, perhaps even a mother, but he couldn’t ease the tension in his gut. He couldn't help it. Even after years in the ring, he still got butterflies right before a match. The Boy-Mayor of Second Life and Totino’s walked by just then, each offering a nod before taking their place at the top of the ramp. The theme music they shared with the Toss Team began to swell and they walked out to raucous cheers from the crowd. The Campaign were arguably the most popular tag-team heels in the MFWF, which made their match-up that much more daunting. Randyjohnson and Panpan had their admirers, sure, but they still very much occupied the roles of scrappy cult favourites rather than A-team stars. A producer gave them the ten second warning and they took their marks. The music started up again and, taking another deep breath, Panpan put on his game face. He grinned and skipped down the ramp, kicking out the curled toes of his ankle-boots and waving gleefully to the crowd. They rewarded his energy with whistles and cheers. The Toss Team climbed into the ring and took their place in one corner. Panpan was up first, and he grasped the top turnbuckle for luck before The Boy-Mayor and Totino’s returned to the ring and took their positions. He took time to limber up; The Campaign was known for working stiff and fighting dirty, and the last thing he needed was to injure something before the finisher they had planned. The bell sounded and The Boy-Mayor immediately met him in the middle of the ring. He tagged in Totino’s early after landing a few good blows and used every second of his allotted five-count to get a few more hits in before leaving the ring, reestablishing his character's brutish opportunism in the minds of the crowd. The fight went exactly as planned: Totino’s hit Randy with one of his famous elbow drops and smashed up her shoulders to set up her compromised throwing ability and forcing her to stagger out for the tag. Finally, after facing off against Totino’s himself, Panpan made his way to the edge of the ring and slapped Randyjohnson’s hand. She positioned herself on the top rope and he held up his arms beneath her. He couldn’t help but glance back at her as she lay herself down in his hands. She caught his eye and gave him a nod. The crowd lost their minds as she sailed through the air, erupting in an unbelievable clamour when she went for the cover and took the match for the Toss Team. The two of them bathed in the audience’s adulation as Totino’s and The Boy-Mayor sulked off backstage.
They received a hero’s welcome at the after-party, barely walking through the door of the hotel bar before their fellow competitors were at their sides. The Junker, rowdy and dirty as ever, shook up a beer and sprayed it around the room, dousing them in congratulations and froth. They hadn’t told anybody else about the stunt, and everyone had a review to share. Final Pam clapped them each on the back, knocking the wind out of Panpan and making Randyjohnson stumble forward. She let out a deep, throaty laugh,
“Finally,” she bellowed, “toss-boy becomes toss-man!” She wrapped an arm around Panpan’s neck and squeezed tightly and he felt his eyes begin to bulge as he choked on grey feathers from her shawl. Across the room, he saw Pam’s husband, who offered a long-suffering look. Pam let go just as Panpan thought he might lose consciousness and bid them goodnight, “Trash Hulk and I must be up early tomorrow,” she explained, “we take our one thousand sons to Disney World, see Goofy!” With Pam gone, the party began to quiet down. Panpan and Toucan Dan chatted amicably for a little while Squirtle and Randy drank mostly in silence. Soon they called it a night as well, making their way upstairs. They said goodnight in the hallway, embracing warmly before retiring to their respective rooms. Panpan just had the energy to shower before falling into bed. They’d be back on the road tomorrow, he thought, almost wistfully. Back to the grind of promotions and rehearsal and training, back to being tossed around by Randyjohnson a hundred times a day. For now, though, the concerns of tomorrow might as well be a hundred years away.
