The samurai has arrived

--A Static Lullaby's cover of Toxic blares through the arena speakers, the crowd confused as green spotlights circle the arena.
A man dressed in black cargo pants and a black jacket over his black shirt, an 'a' in a circle visible, steps out from the back and makes his way down the ramp to the ring.--
Michael: Here's a new face to PHWF, I think I've seen him before...
Jesse: I doubt it, he looks like a nobody to me. And what a fruity theme song.
--The man slides into the ring and walks to the far edge then is handed a mic by the ringside personel.
He walks back toward the center of the ring and lifts the mic to his lips as the song fades.--
Man: So this is Powerhouse Pro Wrestling.
--He lowers the mic as the crowd cheers for the show they love, waiting for them to die down before lifting the mic with his other hand up and a grin on his face.--
I knew this would be the place to be.
But first I should probably introduce myself to those that don't already know exactly who I am.
--He lowers his head and puts his hand on his chest as if to look humble.--
I am the straightedge superstar, your hero and idol, the true last samurai,
"American Samurai", Max Thomas
--Max lifts his head with a grin as a few members of the crowd cheer him.--
Let that sink in a little, then I'll continue.

That's long enough, yes Max Thomas has made his way back from a journey overseas back to where he was trained, the land of the rising sun, Japan, to come here for-....
--He looks out to the crowd and walks over to the ropes, pointing out to a large man in the front row.--
Sir! What is that you have there?
--The fan stands up and holds up his plastic cup, saying nearly inaudibly to the camera 'Miller Lite!' to which the fans around him cheer.
The wrestler looks on with a combination shocked/dumbfounded expression before sliding out of the ring.--
Did, did I just hear what I think I did?
Did you morons just cheer on habitual self destruction through alcoholism?
--Max walks up to the standing fan, the spotlight following him, as he gets up close to him.--
You make me sick.
Poisoning yourself day after day,
making the people you care about suffer because you --Said in a mocking tone.-- just need one to take the edge off after work.
--He leans in with a look that could kill to be face to face with the smiling front row fan, the camera moving in to get a clear shot of it.--
What do you have to say for yourself?
Fan: Nothing wrong with enjoying a col-
--Max swings his hand up and slaps the taste out of the big man's mouth, knocking his beer onto the person sitting next to him.--
Max: I don't care what you think.
--Just as the fan starts to get back up straight, Max slaps him the other way, knocking him over onto the non-beer drenched person next to him.
He starts to pace around the ring as he loudly proclaims.--
Each and every one of you that supports that self destruction is an enemy of mine. All of you alcoholics be warned, Max Thomas is here.
--One rather loud ringside fan yells 'You suck!' and leans over the barrier to which Max leans in close but just out of his reach.--
And I hope you die.
I am straightedge, I'm better than you. Deal with it.
--Max drops the mic and makes his way up the ramp backwards, waving with a big sarcastic smile on his face as the crowd boos him louder.--
Michael: What a jerk! A real superstar wouldn't treat these dedicated fans like that!
Jesse: He's got a bite to him, I think I like this Max kid afterall.