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On a hot summer day in Las Vegas, Syn owner Dark Soul (yes, that is his real name) is wisely hunkering down in his office to keep safe from patriotic Americans celebrating Independence day. He knows that his funny accent and teeth will make him a target of a drunken mob of slobbering neanderthals. Instead he is gazing lovingly at a picture of Devin Styles, trying to figure out how to make the first move. Soul is startled by a disturbance outside of his office and puts the photo on his desk just before his office door explodes inwards. Two men barge in the door, the first one Soul recognizes as MMA legend and linear Syn champ Kid Torres. The next man is former DSC fighter and Latvian heartthrob Edgars Simans. "What the fuck mate?" Soul cries out. Torres and Simans say nothing. Kid holds the door open while humors glowers at Soul. A whining hum can be heard coming from his secretary's office. A sick feeling starts to form in Soul's stomach as part of him remembers hearing that sound before. Fish and chips turn into a bitter cold knot of gross as it dawns on him....... JLP is coming. "G-g-g-g-g-get ooooouuuuut" Soul protests, but inside he knows it is too late already. He is trapped and he gave all of his security men the day off for the holiday. The whining gets louder as the all too familiar hover-round enters the room. Perched atop the laboring machine is a man Soul hoped to never see again. Breathing heavily, with gravy stains on his straining shirt, JLP enters Dark Soul's office, a triumphant look on his many jowled face and a .45 in his massive ham-hand. JLP pilots his craft straight into the desk at ramming speed, causing the desk to bounce back a few inches. Dark Soul dies a little inside as his picture of Styles plummets to the ground. "I wish Devin was here", Soul whines to himself, "I need you now my sweet prince." A pregnant pause comes over the room, beads of sweat break out all over Soul who struggles to not vomit in terror and revulsion at this monstrosity before him. Finally, JLP speaks, filling the room with the foul sickly sweet odor of his breath. "Dark Soul, you fool. Do you know why I am here?" Soul opens his mouth to reply, but JLP cuts him off sharply. "Quiet mongoloid. I'll tell you why I am here. I don't want your tiny brain to burst trying to understand the motives of a super genius. This is a hostile takeover. The most hostile of hostile takeovers." JLP turns to Kid and nods. Kid moves around the side of the desk and as Soul stands in alarm, Torres cracks the inside of Dark Soul's front leg. Dark Soul is a little confused. "If you dont play ball there will be more of that." JLP pants. "Que?" ponders Kid. Dark Soul, feeling emboldened by the lack of any power in JLP's bodyguard's kick, starts to feel a little tough. "Fuck you JLP, you wanker!" he cries. Kid Torres throws a leg kick but Dark Soul sees it coming and moves out of range. Torres is off balance and slips, he lands on his ass, the jarring fall knocking him unconscious. JLP and humors both have slight smiles on their faces as snores come from behind the desk. "Thats right you cbombs, now get out of here!" Dark Soul exclaims, feeling quite pleased with himself. "Or you two tossers will get what he got." An uncomfortable silence fills the room as JLP centers his icy glare on Soul. Soul's stomach churns and a dribble of piss goes down his leg as he stares into JLP's dead green eyes. "You fool, do you really think Kid is my instrument of intimidation? I feel sorry for that walking vegetable. He is here to amuse me only. These are my instruments." JLP says as he taps his sweaty forehead and waves his .45. "Although giving your security guys the day off made humors efforts to keister my pistol ultimately unnecessary but amusing." "I how a lot of fun doing it boss, and now this guy knows have far we will go." humors mutters in his dumb accent. "Quiet fool. Speak when spoke too." JLP replies and returns his gaze to Soul. "Well?" As DS' terror continues to rise, made all the more potent by Kid's labored snoring, he finally lets out a terrified squawk, "I'll do it, I'll sign Syn over to you! Just leave me alone! Forgive me Devin Styles!" A look of confusion crosses JLP's face, his many chins shudder in contemplation. "I'm talking about Dark Soul Combat." "Oh, really?" "Yeah, I wanted to take that over." "Why? I mean, sure, whatever. You could have just called and asked." Soul says. "Ok, fine. I just like this way better though, its more dramatic" JLP growls. "Fine, good. Please leave, this was kind of a dick move." "Sorry," JLP says as a way of apology. A new shean of sweat breaks out on JLP's face as he pilots his hover-round out of Syn's corporate HQ's, farting contently. Humors prances after him happily, he loves that smell. Dark Soul says a little prayer and pick up his picture of Devin Styles again. He weeps silently and tweaks his nipples as Kid Torres snores thunderously and dreams of better days.