Disclaimer: The following should probably not be read if you are a visual person, or if you are at all squeamish. This contains more of Kasabian Stalker than one should probably ever see and general pervertedness, just be thankful that it is not on a big screen.

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The XWA universe was still revelling in one of the most Xtreme matches they had seen in a long time when they are transported through the Titan Tron to a backstage area. Eyes are transfixed on the screen as the camera struggles to come into focus. The unpainted concrete walls that the camera finally fixes on serve the simple purpose of holding up a large wall mirror. Flanked with a vanity of stainless steel, the setting soon becomes abundantly clear. We find ourselves in one of the backstage toilet areas, thankfully not one open to the public, but one occupied by a sole soul.

Here we find the naked figure of Kasabian Stalker standing with his back to the camera, but-cheeks glistening as water fresh from a recent shower works its way into the dimples of his pale cheeks. He is standing close enough to the vanity that one thankfully does not catch a glimpse of 'little Kasabian' in the reflection from the bathroom mirror. He seems to not notice the camera in his presence, the smart angle taken by the cameraman avoiding his reflection being picked up in his own shot. Kasabian is busy running his hands over his body, tweaking his nipples a little and blowing kisses to himself in the mirror.

"There you are, you handsome devil."

The Perverted One trails an endless supply of self praise into the mirror as he continues to inspect himself.

"One more glorious victory, one step closer to an Intercontinental Championship."

Kasabian turns his attention to an assortment of cologne and various grooming products at the vanity top. His fingers trail over the selection, before he picks up a golden bottle. Popping the cap, he splashes a liberal amount of the liquid on his neck, letting it drip down his chest before rubbing it into the skin of his chest.

"Ah, the scent of victory. The cologne of a champion. Rob Chapman knows this scent well, but his musk grows old, his bottle runs empty. Time for a new shipment, a new supply... A new smell in these halls.

Time for a champion who smells like a champion, not sweat and body odour. It is that sweet smell that makes Kasabian Stalker irresistible. Helooo ladies."

He takes the bottle, the cap still off, and splashes a fair amount in the direction of his manhood. Unseen by the camera, the Perverted One lathers his family jewels with the concoction, to the point where one can almost smell the stench coming from the bathroom through the camera lens. He grimaces a little as the perfume burns, but the grimace is soon turned into a smile, a twinkling of his eyes letting him know how much he is enjoying his grooming.

"Kasabian Stalker takes care of himself, particularly the parts of himself that matter the most. Little Kasabian has to smell nice too, isn't that right boy?"

The Pervert pauses momentarily as he looks down, obviously checking 'himself' out.

"I thought so. It leads me to wonder just how much care our friend Rob puts into his appearance. Judging from the way he comes across each week, I would say not very much. This business is about more than just winning. You have to make yourself look good if you want to call yourself a Champion.

Kasabian Stalker has the scent and the looks of a champion. Rob Chapman, he does his best, but one cannot polish crap."

He smiles at this sentiment as he lays the bottle back on the vanity. He picks up a second bottle, a half empty bottle of baby oil and pours out the slippery mixture into his cologne laden palms. This time he starts low, oiling up his undercarriage first and moaning softly as he does so. Stalker works his way up his body, oiling his chest and taking an uncomfortably long time to oil his nipples before taking his hands to his scalp. He muses as he runs his hands over his shaven scalp.

"Groomed to perfection. Not a stray hair anywhere. Just the way the ladies like it. Look at the comparison on our current champion. If there ever was a scruffy dog, it would be Chapman.

His hair is too long, unkempt and unwashed. His beard looks like that of Mr. Twit, shaggy and unwelcoming. Do we really want the man we call Intercontinental Champion to be a scruffy mongrel, a shaggy dog-man?

I'm not sure I want to get in the ring with the likes of Chapman, who knows what kind of stench he trails behind him, what I might catch in there. He is nowhere near as pretty as some of the hunks I have had the absolute pleasure of partying with inside the squared circle so far in XWA. I don't think there is much chance of me losing myself against him like I did tonight with pretty Joey Jobberton.

Yuck, yuck, yuck... Somebody get that man a razor and a hairbrush, stat!"

With his body well oiled, Kasabian picks up a third tube from the collection on the vanity top. A small tube of chapstick. He applies the chapstick to his lips thickly with his eyes closed, smacking and pursing his lips together expertly as if he is wearing lipstick. This in itself raises more questions that one would not be sure they want the answers to. Nevertheless, Kasabian soon opens his eyes and pouts his lips in the mirror.

"The kissable lips of a champion, Kasabian Stalker. Irresistible. Not lips that are chapped and cracked, like a man spent too long in the sun. Appearance is half of the game, and it is a half that I win.

Who could deny lips as supple as these, they are the lips of the future. These lips are experiences in many different ways. The stories they could tell would boggle your damned mind. One has to take care of assets such as these. Where is Rob Chapman going to be in ten years time, with his leathery skin and cracked lips? Do we not want a champion who takes care of themselves as much as they take care of the championships.

In Kasabian Stalker, we have such a man."

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Kasabian leans forward and plants a kiss on his reflection on the mirror. A long, lingering kiss that is more than just a playful peck at himself. When he pulls away, a thick film of chapstick is left behind, tainting the once clean mirror. He looks back at himself with lust in his eyes.


"I love me... The complete package, Rob Chapman's worst nightmare and soon to be XWA Intercontinental Champion.

How could anybody resist all of this?"

Kasabian still mulls his thoughts into the mirror, but soon turns away. The vanity top that had been hiding 'Little Kasabian' from sight is now no longer censoring him. As he turns, the camera is greeted to a full frontal view of Kasabian Stalker, complete with 'Little Kasabian' standing almost to attention, poking up at not quite a horizontal level as if waving at the camera.

A collection of groans and an uproar of disapproval can be heard echoing around the arena at the sight, Kasabian simply repeats his retort.

"How could anybody resist all of this as your new champion?"

This made me feel extremely uncomfortable. Not gonna lie. Really well written, and kind of funny in a sick way, but uncomfortable.

You have successfully combined Rob Conway, Val Venis, and Danshoku Dino into a single gimmick. Sweet jesus. Congrats. xD

I need to take a shower after each promo I write, it makes me uncomfortable too so I totally get that. I think that is the draw to the character, Kasabian is everything I am not.

I am not really sure if it is humour or not, it is a bit of a grey area as you feel dirty laughing at it.

Pretty much. I was more or less chuckling nervously like "What the hell am I reading right now?" I wish I could take that approach to writing lol

I haven't seen much of Danshoku Dino - his move list on Wikipedia alone is great reading

Basically he's a homosexual rapist, touching opponents up during matches and crossing a lot of personal boundaries to make them uncomfortable.

Stalker needs to use the Danshoku driver at some point.