
CHARLIE MURPHY
A familiar chyron appears on the fade in, stating ‘Just A Few Moments Ago’. We see a backdrop with the PRIME logo, the makeshift backstage interview area. Standing center of the shot is Brandon Youngblood, with Simon Tillier to his side. The size discrepancy is comical. The Tower Of Babel is still dressed in street clothes, his arms folded across his massive chest. Tillier is dressed to impress, his suit a well tailored pastel, alongside a dapper bowtie. Pushing the center of his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he clears his throat, looking to the camera.
Simon Tillier: Joining me at this time is a PRIME Hall of Famer, a multiple time Champion, the winner of the Almasy Invitational–
Simon can feel the eyes of the Diamond upon him. It’s intense. Foreboding. An assignment like this would rarely, if ever, fall to him, especially with the close personal relationship Brandon shared with Angelica Brooks. Given how attitudes have been lately, however, and given Angie’s schedule, there was no way Matt Mills was about to deal with the perpetually irate Suplex Daddy. As such, the task falls onto the Junior Interviewer, who, despite his training, is definitely caught off guard.
Simon Tillier: Um…
The Diamond’s tone burns with intensity.
Brandon Youngblood: I ain’t Rezin. So ask your questions.
Simon Tillier: Right. So, Brandon, you’ve been quite outspoken about the happenings in PRIME lately. Paxton Ray. The guard around Universal Champ–
There is a snarl that cuts him off before he can finish.
Simon Tillier: Anyways, you’ve felt it necessary to air these grievances out in public, with management. Given the announcement of the punishment to the Love Convoy in regards to their actions on ReVival 17, do you feel progress is being made in regards to your issues?
There is no response for a moment.
Brandon Youngblood: Darin Zion and the Halls…their ass belongs to me and Colton. You understand? ReVival 19, there ain’t no love. It ain’t a Hallmark journey. It’s hurt. It’s pain. It’s everything coming due for those two dipshits and their little violence act. Nothing can stop it. Nothing can save them. And when it’s all said and done? They’re going on an all expenses paid trip…to Sunrise. You can trust that.
Simon Tillier: Strong sentiment, but that doesn’t–
Brandon Youngblood: That’s between me and Troy, Simon. Me. And Troy. And do I think that she finally woke up a bit? Yeah. Yeah I do. Now it’s our turn. Because I’m pissed off. And I got a lot of people who I got to say hi to. GREAT SCOTT? Scott Gratesburgh. HOW TV Champion. Word on the street has it that you got me pegged as an old hero of yours. That the case? Explains why you’re in the shit state you’re in right now. Must have forgotten all about that when you wanted to buddy up to the Glue Factory after ReVival 13. When you took your shots and wanted to dance on my grave.
A slight shift.
Brandon Youngblood: I remember, Gratesburgh. I remember. Ain’t out of convenience. Tonight? You’re stepping into the ring with someone who never liked you. Never respected you. Never feared you. Say I lose when it matters most? Jackass, look around you.
His glare pierces through.
Brandon Youngblood: I. AM. PRIME. I set these walls. I carried the banner. Every. Match. I. Wrestle. IS. The big one. For guys like you? Take your shot. Try to feel yourself. Because I ain’t worried. I’ll use your bones for the foundation of a new hall. I don’t give a shit about you. I don’t give a shit about your sob story. I don’t care about your wanting as a PWA star. I don’t give a shit. All I want to do? Is hurt you. And that’s–
Youngblood’s eye catches something out of frame and hardens his gaze at what approaches. Before long, The Kid steps into frame, also in his civvies – today, a dark slim-cut suit jacket and slacks and a HUGE puffy white scarf that looks like it weighs 10 pounds. Warm as heck, probably. It gets nippy in the desert in autumn.
FLAMBERGE: That’s about right for YOU, is what it is, Mssr. Youngblood. The talk and the talk and the grinding the bones to make the bread ogre-ism absurdité. You do it because you look down on everyone around you who refuses to bear their little tummies to you like a dog who wants the master to give them the pets and the snackies and the walkies. You keep the sonofabitch Nate Colton around you because he’s your little schnauzer, don’t deny it, and that’s why you treat people like me who stand up to the dying warhorses of PRIME like…
FLAMBO gestures broadly at the substantially larger Youngblood.
FLAMBERGE: …this ogre thing.
Simon Tillier tries to position his legs in a way where he can make a quick getaway without anyone noticing. Youngblood doesn’t flinch. Instead, he turns to face the French Super Athlete, his glower evident.
Brandon Youngblood: Jackass–
He makes a step toward FLAMBERGE, who himself doesn’t waver.
Brandon Youngblood: I’m the last guy you want on your ass tonight. Not with you going up for the 5 Star against Rezin. Again. Got another glue brick? You gonna try to pick his bones like last time? Now you listen and you listen good, you little bastard. Much as you want to make yourself the face of the ReVival, much as you try to get in my business, much as you try to get in my head, you’re still standing, walking, jaw jackin’, wearing that ridiculous shit like a show dog…because I allow it. Just like tonight. That 5 Star Championship? I ain’t you. I ain’t gonna make my way and pull ropes and try to screw you out of your life’s work. No…when Rezin beats your ass AGAIN…you got only yourself to blame. But hey, I’m rootin’ for you. Rootin’ for you to get it done because then your bean sprout ass might stop whining and crying and start standing on your own two feet. And if you need, just like Hayes, I got a bit of good luck for you–
At the mention of Hayes, something like a movie he’s seen before clicks in FLAMBERGE’s brain, and he decides he must act quickly – not just quickly, but first.
SMACK!
FLAMBERGE sends five across Youngblood’s left cheek. Tillier BOLTS the hell out of there.
The smack leaves a visible print across the Diamond’s face. Wrenching his head back around, a wild smile spreads across his face, as well as blood trickling from his lips. What happens next is a surprise to everyone.
Brandon Youngblood: Heh. Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
A thick wad of bloody spit hits the PRIME backdrop. His eyes, full of malice. His body, shaking. His words, foreboding.
Brandon Youngblood: Good luck out there. You’ll need it. I’m watching.
Smacked like a bitch? FLAMBERGE readies himself to receive a strike. But one doesn’t come. Instead, the Tower of Babel steps past him, and out of the frame. FLAMBERGE is stunned at this and adjusts his humongous scarf as his eyes follow Youngblood’s exit.
FLAMBERGE: Frappez moi en retour…HEY, YOUNGBLOOD! FRAPPEZ MOI EN RETOUR!
Receiving no reply, FLAMBO huffs and departs in the opposite direction.