Harrold procures a black velvet satchel from the depths of a wrought iron chest. This man clearly means heavy business. He encourages you to not read the fine print, (or any of the print for that matter) of the lengthy and complicated legal document which he tosses in front of your face. Immediately upon signing he whisks you away to a super serious and intensive Rasslin' boot camp. Within minutes of stepping through the doors, a vaguely familiar political looking mofo lifts you above his really bitchin' hair and slams you down hard upon the unforgiving concrete. You black out and enter a period of time which is vague and foggy. Only brief glimmers of consciousness surface in your mind when you think back upon this time. There is a stretcher carried by giant muscles. There is a hearse. There is an operating table, and then there is a deeper dark. A blackness through which your consciousness cannot penetrate no matter how hard you try.
The next memory which appears within you is a haze, an all encompassing fog through which your claws attempt to flail through. You feel strange all over. Not quite the anal probing you had been expecting, but certainly some higher life forms had experimented upon you. Your vision is having a difficult time returning. You try to focus upon that which is directly in front of you, but the peripheral keeps clouding in and intruding upon your focus. You throw your two arms towards your face, but they can't quit reach up to eye level to clear the fog. Maybe the other four limbs can do some help. Wait, four other limbs? Your ganglia starts to assimilate all of this brand new sensory information. Something is desperately not right here. You flail about and fall off of the bed you were placed upon, thrashing wildly upon the floor. The door to your room bursts open and a be-gowned gentlemen with eyes of madness races into your room.
"Oh yes! It's awake! Success my pretties! Success! Can you hear me child?" he proclaims in delighted excitement.
"Yezzzzzz..... yezzzzzzz! I heeeeeeerrrrrr yuuuuuu!" your voice comes out from an alien set of vocal chords. The sounds are buzzing at an uncomfortable frequency. What is happening?
"Oh my god! This is it! it's happening! It's taken me dozens of subjects to get to this level of success! A lot of trial and error you know, making a human-hornet hybrid was not an easy task! Quite a few casualties along the way. But you know what they say, so much of extreme cosmetic reconstructive surgery is trial and error. If you don't get it right the first time, just try, try again!"
"Whuuuuuuuutttt?" you ask bewilderedly.
"Come on baby! You signed the contract right? You knew what you were in for! It's all there in article 17: sub-section 83." Harrold proclaims ecstatically, "You've become the Stinging Sombrero. You're an illegal alien! GET IT!" Harrold walks towards you to place a giant Mehican hat upon your antennae. How hilarious.