Author's Note: Note this is just me taking a stab at fanfiction. Plz try to keep the critiquing quasi-positive. Thanks for reading. It was Cheston's day off, a bit of a rarity in his line of work. Indeed, whenever he wasn't eating, sleeping, or taking care of other biological necessities, he was training, negotiating with his agent or the Super Monday Night Combat Board of Directors, acting or practicing acting, training, exercising, or fighting for his cloned life in a match-sometimes against other Cheston Clones no less! Indeed, it was hard trying to stand out from his fellow clones, that was why he had visited his agent several weeks ago to come up with a new "shtick" so he'd stand out in the Arena. Indeed, he needed something to keep the crowds entertained, like the gladiators of Rome did. You failed to keep them enthused, you die, it was that simple. All it would take was a flip of a switch by the Board to turn off the nanites that were used to "repair" players after they were teleported back the their starting areas after assuming near-room temperature. Sure, he managed to get some promotions and products in agreement for doing some ads, but they still weren't to the caliber the more veteran (not to be confused with the wrestler) players had. Indeed, after suffering a few setbacks in some arena matches, he was forced to do a long chain of Blitzball matches to just get enough money to buy better combat gear. God, how he hated GG's smugness during those matches and wanted to rip his head off with his large simian hands. Nonetheless, that wasn't here nor there. What was, however, was keeping the audience enthused with him until he could earn better gear and was canny enough via the school of hard knocks to get back to fighting the "better fed" opponents. This is why he had that aforementioned meeting with his agent. His agent, a rather quirky fellow who was an Elvis Clone had replied, "I'm not gonna lie, th' League is bein' cruel an' treatin' ya like a hound dog, despite my best efforts ta be your Colonel Parker. If we're gonna keep the audience on your side, we need to come up with something they haven't seen before. Something that will stick out from your other fellow clones in monkey suits-no offense." "None taken." Cheston replied, "Hmm, well, there was this one role my genetic ancestor took in a movie that's not as well known nowadays. It was the role of Captain Bananas in the "Captain Bananas" serials of Three-D Films. I could go back to playing the role of a Space Ape. While similar to that Flash Gordon rip-off Captain Spark, it wouldn't be the same-not to mention they love that sharpshooter from Mars ol' whatsherface. And, it would make me stand out from my relatives doing the Mafioso getup. If you could get me some pyrotechnics for my taunts, we could also throw in the action star angle whenever I use my taunts." "Hmmm. I'm not gonna lie, they won't be cheap." the Elvis Clone replied as he leaned back in his chair, "But I like where you're going. I'll have my contacts get us a pyro fx man and a tailor to fix you up a Astronaut Costume. We'll have the fans adorin' you yet, like they did my ancestor in Vegas, ah huh hmmm!" He then called up his secretary, "Uh yeah, Priscilla, get me some peanut butter n' banana sandwiches fer me n' my Client here? As well as some bottled water? Thank ya, thank ya very much!" That was a few weeks ago. Now, here he was after morning exercise and watch a few matches from the league on WSPN, watching some of the old Space Opera Holofilms his genetic donor was in. "Ha ha! Now that I control the Banana Farms of Mars, I will have Earth at my mercy by denying them Potassium! Mwahahahaaa!" laughed the lead villain of the film, played by a mutant octopus named Sir. Laurence DiCalamari, who was playing the role of a space alien. "Not so fast, as long as I have breath, I will do everything in my power to stop your mad scheme!" replied the original Cheston, playing the aforementioned role of Captain Bananas. "WHAT!? CAPTAIN BANANAS!? GUARDS! GET HIM!!!" yelled the Octopoid entity as some robots ran past him. "Space Apes, it's time to go bananas!" yelled Captain Bananas as he shot at the robots in the aged Holoreel. Cheston couldn't help but sigh at the cheeziness of the role his "ancestor" was playing. Alas, for better or for worse, audiences ate things like this up. Simple, action-oriented, popcorn entertainment. Yes, for a actor of his mental and physical capabilities, a role of this sort would be easy to pull off, even when dodging lasers, plasma, and live ammo. Deciding he had enough of sci-fi-B-Grade Schlock for a while, he paused the film and turned on the news. He heard his sometimes teammate, sometimes rival Artemis was going to attend a meeting in which the Outland Mutants of Western Europe were negotiating with the governments of North America as a ambassador of goodwill and a intermediary between both factions. "I hope she doesn't get too angry and tries to make a shish kebab out of anyone there during the negotiations." he thought to himself with a slight chuckle.
