[b]Boxing Club[/b]

With a spring in his step and a head full of stuff he damn well already knew, Roy Gerald Bivvens passed through the threshold of the Advanced Thugonomics classroom. Roy worked his way through the vaunted halls of Kagetora High School, pointedly ignoring the wide variety of morons, scumbags, and abused children lining the halls. Those who couldn't petition their parents to transfer them to a better school were forced to stay-- so it goes. 

Roy had managed to find the entrance of the realm of the Boxing Club, a group of many strong men awaiting his ministrations. Roy gingerly opened the door--so as to not spook the boxers--and silently passed through the training area to the lockers.

Inside the locker room, Roy found his locker-- all the way at the edge of the room, an unassuming green locker, heavily contrasted with the dull reds of the other members. With a practiced air, Roy changed out of his school uniform, and into... a dark grey three-piece suit with a white undershirt and navy-blue tie. Fully entrenched in his announcer/referee/manager uniform, Roy made his way back to the main floor.

Roy Gerald Bivvens scanned the assorted boxers with equal parts awe and respect. There were the men and women he had sculpted with his own encouragement and their own hands. There was Slammer Kelda, the war-painted witch of the ring. There was Cinder Sluggan, the brick-skinned brick-shithouse. There was Mickey, the clay-faced vicissitudor and Captain Of The Club. And there was... Al. 

Al was not special, in Roy's mind. He was strong, light,  and refused to stop using foreign objects. By all  accounts, he was a generic heel, designed to job for  pennies and fill out lumberjack rosters. However, Al had  [i]potential[/i]. If Al could be given something to make him unique, if he could be given a [i]gimmick[/i], he'd be one of the best fighters in the school, and he'd be the star of Boxermania.

As Al tried to catch Mickey's attention, Roy urgently intercepted him. He flashed a foxy smile at Al, and stared him right in the eye.

[color=lightgreen]"Hey, Alphonse, [i]baby[/i]... we gotta talk. You're a damn good meathook, Alphonse, you've got the fists and the balls to mash with the best of them. Only problem is... you aren't [i]unique[/i]!"[/color]

Roy motioned to the other boxers present. All of them were almost absurd caricatures of themselves. Some wore ludicrous costumes, some were actively demonstrating their powers. Each of them was designed from the ground up not to [i]fight[/i], but to [i]demonstrate[/i]. Hearts of gold and bodies of finest alabaster, these boxers attracted as much attention as possible, good-- or bad.

[color=lightgreen]"We gotta get you a gimmick, Alphonse! Something for people to call you by, something for us to weld into people's minds! Everyone'll be chanting 'Alphonse! Alphonse!'-- but only if they can [i]see[/i] you! Know what I mean?"[/color]