AMENAZAS CON QUESO

Backstage.

If you’ve been backstage before, you know the driller. An interviewer, a wrestler, a microphone. The interviewer is Simon Tillier, looking as eager as ever. The wrestler is Nate Colton, looking…off, somehow. Not sure what the deal is there.

The microphone is a microphone. You know what that looks like.

Simon Tillier: Hello again, fans! Simon Tillier here with Nate Colton, the recently dethroned Five Star Champion. Nate, your recent loss has to be weighing on you. Do you regret offering the match to Coral Avalon?

Nate Colton: Absolutely not, Simon. Losing the match, losing the belt…yeah, it stings. But if I’m not willing to put the title on the line against the best, then I shouldn’t have it in the first place, y’know? Coral’s one of the best in the world; he earned that win and I hope he has a great run as Five Star Champion.

Simon Tillier: You have your own challenge on the horizon, as next week you take on Nova for the right to participate in the Tropical Turmoil match! Are you excited to have another possible shot at the Universal Title?

Nate Colton: Gettin’ ahead of yourself, Simon. I only get into Tropical Turmoil if I win at ReV30, and that’s a pretty damn big if. Nova’s a legend, and the dude has proven he’s still got what it takes. Rest assured I’ll be ready to take him on, but I ain’t takin’ anything for granted.

Simon Tillier: We expect nothing less. Finally, I–

He pauses, and a look of concern spreads across his face. Like a hundred alarms just started going off in his head…which…yeah, kinda.

Simon’s been through a lot in the last year and a half. Enough that he’s developed a kind of precognition for when things are about to go bad…especially when they involve a certain member of the PRIME roster.

Nate Colton: You okay, Simon?

Simon Tillier: Yeah…fine. I…I gotta go.

Simon turns to leave, because his Simon-Sense is running on all cylinders.

His sense of direction? Not so much.

Simon makes it maybe five steps before he runs into someone…who turns out to be the exact person he’s running from.

Simon Tillier: Yipe!

Simon runs the other way, nearly bowling Colton over as he does so.

“Damb… that kid can really scamper.”

The familiar raspy voice of Rezin heralds the Escape Artist before he slides into the shot and nods to Colton.

Rezin: Sup, Evansville. Sorry ’bout the Five Star, and all that.

Nate Colton: Thanks. Would have liked to hold it longer, but…well. Is what it is.

One of few in the federation who can relate to position, Rezin nods in agreement.

Rezin: Man, ain’t that the truth. In any case, I guess it’s onto “bigger and better things” shit. Kinda like this Turmoil business we’re all wrapped up in. Right…?

The words are purely conversational, but there’s a slight edge in the voice of the fellow former Five Star Title holder, being well aware that the two of them may once again be meeting in the PRIME ring with something even greater at stake. Rezin eventually shrugs.

Rezin: But we can cross that bridge if and when we get to it. Until then, we still got the business down in Mexico with you and the rest of the Colton clan.

Nate Colton: I guess we do. Can’t imagine what you were on when you put that team together.

The Goat Bastard questionably scratches at his shaggy skullet. He might be looking relatively “cleaner” as of late, but he’s no less hairier than he was before making the changes in hygienic habits.

Rezin: Yeah, neither can I, now that ya mention. But look here, man… even if this whole four-on-four thing at PWA-oh-dos only came together as a fluke, I don’t want ya thinkin’ I’m treatin’ that way. Naah, dawg… a match is still a match, and down there, when that bell rings, ya better believe I’m goin’ to the mattresses!

Rezin’s eyes may be bloodshot, but they are nevertheless lucid and filled with conviction.

Rezin: Even with your whole damb fambly there to back ya up, I’m gonna prove that even our hodgepodge mish-mash team consistin’ of a stoner, a streetwalker, a Soviet, and his lil flunky can bring it together and overcome the collective might of the Coltons!

Nate’s lips curl into a slight smirk. Usually he doesn’t get cocky when he’s got the night off…maybe tonight is special. Who knows.

Nate Colton: Oh, I believe you. I didn’t pick this fight, but I’m more than happy to have it. Getting to fight alongside my family, and knock around a bunch of people who don’t like us for whatever reason? Hell yeah, sign me up. We got no problem taking you all to the cleaners.

The Escape Artist’s eyes narrow into slits as he draws in and lets out a deep breath, exercising an unorthodox amount of restraint against his more aggressive impulses.

Nate Colton: But there’s two things I want to tell you right now. One…Peach ain’t a streetwalker. She was doing livestreams, and I think she’s even stopped doing that.

Rezin looks dumbfounded.

Nate Colton: You ain’t the only one. Benny wore a black armband for a week.

Rezin: Well, I’ll be dambed… I guess that’s fifty bucks I ain’t gettin’ back.

Nate Colton: Two? As wild as that fight is gonna be…I don’t think it’s going to cool off the beef you and I have. We’re gonna have to do this for real someday.

A grunt escapes the Goat Bastard.

Rezin: Yeah… someday. Until then, best of luck with Nova. Innerested to see how far ya can last against a real legend.

Nate Colton: Thanks. Good luck with Jiles, yourself. Interested to see how hard you can punch him in his smug prick face.

Rezin grunts again, smiles, and slowly backs out of the shot, leaving smoke and soot in his wake. A brief moment later, Simon’s head pokes in from the other side.

Simon Tillier: Is… is he gone?

Nate Colton: I think so.