We cut to elsewhere in the backstage area, specifically the locker room area. Inside, Dusk is sitting on a metal chair. He is leaning back and his eyes are focused upon a television set. On the television set is a clip from years ago, over a decade ago.
For his part, this is clearly a conversation that Seymour Almasy wants no part of. But if the Lost Soul insists, it will be had.
Almasy: Look. I stand by what I told Kensington. Maybe you have history with Pierce. I don’t know, and quite frankly, it’s none of my business. But for someone who claims to be able to take them down…you’re making a bunch of mistakes that a 12 year old who watches this show could tell you. I stand by that statement, because it’s true.
Dusk: I’m sorry, is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you that I’m gonna hit Pierce with one mean Blizzaga? Then, when Aimz isn’t looking I’m gonna hit her with an Armor Break and nail her with a Bio? Of course, I’ll still have Phillip Kennedy, but no worries because I’m gonna bust out my Orichalcon and stab him right in the back. I’m gonna own ‘dem bitches!
Yet, the entire time, Dusk’s face is as serious as he can be as he hammers home the Final Fantasy nickname that Almasy just signified dead.
Dusk: My problem, Seymour, is that you’re not lifting a damn finger to do anything about the Hand! No, you seem content with just letting them run wild and not caring about it. Glad to see that your strategy seems to have worked out in your favor. You get the almighty Desade and Aimz in a tag team match tonight with some mystery partner. Figure out who that person is?
Perhaps to Dusk’s surprise, Almasy…chuckles?
Almasy: Kensington is an entertaining man. Trying to bait me into reacting to this. Believe me…I’ve had time to sit and think about what I’m going to do. Maybe I have a partner, Dusk. Then again, maybe I don’t. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass? I go out there and beat them both by myself…
The tape stops playing. In his right hand, Dusk has a remote and he’s paused it on the still of Almasy. A moment passes before there is a knock at the door. Dusk doesn’t move, knowing it is a stagehand.
Stagehand #1: It’s time for your match.
Dusk nods his head. He’s been doing this for thirty years now. There’s no surprises left for him. Instead, he looks at the screen for a moment longer, remembering a time now long gone, a moment lost in time.
As he stands up, dressed for his upcoming match against Tapioca Puddings, he looks at the stagehand who is still standing there.
Stagehand #1: Who is that in the frame with you on the TV?
Dusk doesn’t answer though as he stops in front of him.
Dusk: That man is the reason why we’re here tonight doing this, why the Almasy Tournament was started. Tonight is about him.
The stagehand nods his head.
Stagehand #1: Oh wow. That’s really something.
Dusk simply nods his head.
Dusk: Tonight, my match, it’s dedicated to him. Because he was what made this industry, this sport, this thing that we enjoy so much, truly special.
Dusk lowers his head, before he steps out of the locker room and makes his way to the ring for his upcoming match.