[center][b]...meanwhile, at the arcade...[/b][/center]

Another challenge issued. Another challenger defeated. The taste of victory was sweet upon the tongue of the masked luchador, his superior footwork destroying any hope of victory in those who stood before him. 
 
Once more, the unnamed contender stepped down from the slightly elevated platform, head held low in submissive understanding of one simple fact: The fuzzy masked man had met the challenge, and responded with a thorough beating. His defeat was within the realm of possibility, though it was slim. His motions showed the experience of many years; his coordination and muscular control exemplary. Plus, he seemed to have the Devil’s own luck. 
 
It would take a very special person, perhaps a Meta, to upstage El Sasquatcho in Dance Dance Revolution. 
 
Computer generated anime girls, with their pigtails and huge eyes, congratulated the hairy wrestler with leaps of joy and flashing kanji speech bubbles. The other half of the dance area had a similar digital crowd on the screen, looking significantly more morose. Taking the opportunity for a victory pose, El Sasquatcho lifted himself to an effortless handstand on the perpendicular guard rails around his own dance spot, flashing lights of differing colors taking turns illuminating his mask. 
 
With a cry of “Revolución!!”, El Sasquatcho dropped back to his original, upright position and awaited the next person brave enough to meet him in the arena of DDR.