The Ultradome was not quiet.

Collect 150,000 souls. Turn them rabid for violent yet humorous and dramatic entertainment. Put them all in one building for the greatest show on earth; the show with the power of Heaven and Earth behind it. Pipe said show via television, radio, internet, and telepathy to approximately 6 billion individuals worldwide, ignoring gender, age, sexual orientation, or religion. Stir well and let play for about two hours each week.

Not only is it good, wholesome entertainment (admittedly with blood and nudity and stuff... but it's endorsed by GOD, it HAS to be good), but it's loud, too.

Really loud.

"Are you ready for some ULTRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...?" Hiroshi screamed into his mike.

"VIOLENCE!" The crowd finished, redoubling its efforts to crack a continental plate. Burglar alarms went off in Billings, Montana.

"Have we got a night for you tonight!" Hiroshi said, once the crowd had calmed down to merely deafening levels of noise, instead of "reduce your eardrums into a bloody pulp" levels.

"... That was redundant," Daisuke said. "Anyway. It looks like tonights lineup is packed with..."

"Oh, my Lina!" Hiroshi interrupted. "When has Ultra seen a show with this much rivalry in the upper ranks? This will be intense! It'll be awesome! It'll be... be..."

"... Just like most other episodes of Ultra, and you'll run out of adjectives trying to describe it?"

Hiroshi looked at his partner. He opened his mouth.

"WORK WITH HIM, DAISUKE!" The crowd shouted in lieu of their favorite commentator.

Hiroshi smiled up at them. "The crowd here at the Dome seems worked up tonight! How's everything going for the folks at home?"

A quiet came over the arena, as if everyone was waiting for some response. The cheering in Berlin caused three blocks to crumble, but they couldn't hear that in the Ultradome.

But something cut through the silence.

"It seems that some individuals don't understand how things work around here!" Everyone turned towards the entrance ramp from backstage. The small figure striding slowly down the ramp, microphone in hand. "It seems that SOME people don't understand what is and what is not important. I'm in the backstage, and I hear you talking about the Lambda belt, and the Omega belt, and I guess you've got that silly godhead thing off to the side somewhere..." The Furniture Savior looked around the arena, his pause drawing out from one moment to two and then three.

"It's time to reassess our priorities as a species, people! You know what? Do you know what? Cute little shiny belts won in honorable martial arts duels and weepy blessed holy miracles... all that crap doesn't mean JACK!"

(Up in the main control booth, the head booker for Ultra scowled.)

"When you get right down to it, only two things matter! First... that I, Marlo (your personal Furnyture Savior) am the Alpha and the Omega of the Hardcore Championship belt! I *AM* Hardcore! Who gives a rat's ass about god when you've got your messiah RIGHT HERE? Oh yeah, baby, BASK in my glory; who gives a monkey's butt about those other silly titles?! But there's something... ALMOST as important, which I feel this burning need to point out..." He speared Hiroshi with a glare. "You see, Hiroshi, friend, buddy, comrade... I got it on with your girlfriend!" Mock surprise crossed Marlo's face. "Oh, wait! My bad, I meant *former* girlfriend. After you kicked her to the curb, Marlo the Hardcore Icon got a little hardcore with her in your absence! After all, now you're getting it on with that lolicon demon chick, right?"

Another pause, drawing out longer than the first. Hiroshi's hands knotted into fists.

"Now, Hiroshi," Daisuke whispered. "He's just doing it for the reaction. Don't rise to it. Though you probably do wish he was eaten alive by maggots right where he stands... Still. Don't be stupid."

"But you see, Hiroshi, I'm just wondering about this one little thing," Marlo continued. "I've been doing some thinking, and I've come to an interesting conclusion. Isn't Lilith a... guy?" A satisfied smirk settled across his features. He returned the microphone to FurnitureSpace and raised his arms, inviting on the boos.

"Ihatehim.Ihatehim.Ihatehim," Hiroshi chanted.

Marlo's smirk widened to a grin. He turned back up the ramp.

"I'm going to kill him." Hiroshi stepped up onto the announcer's desk.

Daisuke blanched. "Um, Hiroshi?"

"I challenge you!" Hiroshi's arm shot out, quivering slightly as it pointed at Marlo.

The Hardcore Champ faltered a step. "Ehh...? Exsquise me? Baking powder? Did I just hear a challenge from the mark at the announcer's table?"

"A... anytime! Anyone! Those are the rules for the hardcore belt!" Hiroshi's voice cracked from emotion. "I challenge you!"

Marlo shrugged. "I guess I heard right. It'll only help further cement my status as the greatest Hardcore champion that ever walked former-Jack-sama's green earth to take out Hiroshi, the one who held MY belt in some grand cosmic error! If you want a beating, little man, bring it on!" He whipped a bookrack out of FurnitureSpace and charged the ring, a laugh escaping his lips.

Hiroshi jumped off the desk and also charged.