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Drama is occurring on the streets of London. Since being forced by his father to adopt a pig in the hopes that the cute little creature will inspire him with broodiness and compel him to forsake his male lover in favour of Posh Spice, Kevin Mask is experiencing the trauma of parenthood.
“Oh, bloody hell. Flash, help me please? Daddy’s ruined my life!” he shrieks. At his feet stands his ‘teacup’ piglet, wagging its curly tail and looking up at him with an adorable smile on its piggy face. The reason for its glee is that it's done its business all over a pile of clothing Kevin was considering purchasing.
The equally dulcet tones of a metal man far more posh than the Queen wafts between the aisles of Vivienne Westwood’s flagship boutique. Footsteps unerringly approach. “Why Kevin, I don't think I've ever heard such a polite sentence from you before.” A moment later Warsman in his sexiest disguise sticks his head round the changing room door, his scarlet eyes analysing the scene, his villainous AI recommending villainous laughter. A recommendation he follows.
“Hehehehehehe!” jerking the door, Lord Flash slips through weasel-like, standing and giggling whilst petting the piglet, who's entire backside is wagging with joy.
Placing his hands on his hips and making himself look even larger, to the extent of having his elbows break through the thin walls of his cubicle, Kevin pouts.
“Why are you always laughing at me, Warsy?! I'm in trouble here!”
“Because you're very funny, Kevin.”
“That's true, but do you know how much this stuff costs?”
“Of course, I'm a walking abraxas after all. There'll be no avocado toast for us for a while.”
“I can't have that. We need to abscond from this situation."
“I could ki-”
Throwing up his hands, Kevin flaps them frantically in the universal sign for ‘No! No, you lunatic!’
Five minutes later, having escaped through a wall with his problematic pig and problematic boyfriend in tow, Kevin pauses his flight in St James's Park, collapsing on a bench with the piglet in his arms. The tiny animal licks his neck.
“I really need a new suit. Every two minutes I have to accept an award. It's not on.”
Lord Flash, who is not in the least bit tired, looms over his protege, thereby blocking the path. “Perhaps attempt shopping without a pet next time, Kevin Mask.”
“...Are you mad? Are you saying I should leave little Kinnikuman in a car?”
“Da.”
“You're the literal devil, Lord Flash.”
The compliment makes the cosplayer preen. “So they say, Kevin.”
“Ello ello, what's all this then?” A copper approaches the duo while they're flirting, his baton already out. A normal cop, not a chojin. Compared to the funnily dressed men he's speaking to, he appears to be a funnily dressed midget.
The champion climbs to his feet, throwing his arm out to catch Lord Flash in the chest and push him back and away from the human. “Bloody hell, pigs.”