A MESSIANIC PACT
Nova sits on a bench in his locker room, making final adjustments to his gear. Wade Elliott isn’t there, having gone to attend to one of his security duties. Nova tightens his gloves, checks his elbow and knee pads, then stands and stretches out one last time. He nods to himself.
Nova: Let’s do this.
He heads out of the locker room area and the camera follows him down the hallway until he reaches a larger room connecting multiple backstage corridors. A series of monitors are grouped together, all showing various angles of the arena and ringside area and throngs of fans cheering and waving signs. Among a few crew members, the PRIME Universal Champion Brandon Youngblood stands, belt slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the action on-camera. He looks back as Nova approaches, and they lock eyes for a moment before Youngblood offers a nod.
Nova walks up next to him and for a minute they watch the monitors in silence. Then Youngblood turns to him.
Brandon Youngblood: I just want you to know…if…IF…I get through Phil Atken still holding the Universal Championship…it looks like we both have something of a MESSIAH problem on the horizon.
He snorts and spits off to the side.
Brandon Youngblood: We don’t like them. We don’t respect them. We won’t fear them. All that bullshit they want to spout about making this world a better place…it don’t matter. Because I want you to know…need you to know…that when it comes down to it? I’d be glad if we gave those bastards the Hall of Fame ass kicking they deserve. You feel me, Star?
Brandon extends his hand to Nova, and in the background the fans in the arena can be heard roaring approval. Nova doesn’t hesitate in returning the gesture, and the arena POPS~!
Nova: Love the energy. Love where your head’s at. Just spent the better part of a month reacquainting myself with local lock-up because of those motherfuckers, and I intend to thank Violence Jack in person for that when I have a chance. If he wants to put Bathory in my way, I’m happy to pass the message through him, too.
Nova looks down at his ankle bracelet, calmly blinking green.
Nova: Lindz may have bought me a little time from MESSIAH breathing down my neck, but this isn’t over with me and them.
He lights a cigarette and takes a drag.
Nova: Not by a wide fucking margin. But right now…
He points down the hallway towards the staging area.
Nova: …I have a date with the Marathon Man.
The Risen Star takes a few steps in the direction of the arena and turns back.
Nova: Brandon, if they come for you…holla atcha boy.
Brandon grins and adjusts the strap on his shoulder.
Brandon Youngblood: I will. Good luck out there.
Nova grins and shrugs before turning and continuing down the hallway.