DICKHEAD
The training room at the PPG Paints Arena is uncharacteristically dark. One might think that with a bigtime wrestling show in town, the lights would be on all the time with the fighters cycling in and out. Lights are out here, much to the chagrin of Paxton Ray. His match with Kenny Freeman certainly didn’t leave him in the same way as Tropical Turmoil did or his matches with Anna Daniels, Nova, The Anglo Luchador, or Jared Sykes did, but I’m sure you’ve heard by now.
PRIME is a meat grinder.
Ray’s tired bones need a soak, and he’s not in the mood to do any extra work right now. At least if Foster were here, he could divert his annoyance to the helmet man. No such luck. He grumbles to himself as he flicks the light on, and then he sees the reason why the lights were off in the first place.
TAL: Surprise, dickhead.
The Anglo Luchador stands, as if he has been waiting for him to get there. Paxton is frozen in shock for a beat, allowing the Luchador to fire in with several shots to the face before grabbing him by his buzzcut hair and throwing him gut-first into the ice bath. Doubled over, Paxton turns around, holding his tender ribs.
TAL: You like being a dickhead, huh, Pax? Yeah. You got brainworms up there. Bad brains. Only way to treat a problem like that is a SHOCK to the system.
The Luchador pulls something out of his pocket. He quickly puts it around the neck of the Butcher and fastens the clasp. Paxton whips his hands up from his ribs to his neck, but before he can get his bearings about him…
BZZZZZZTTTTTTTT
Nick Stuart: Did… did The Anglo Luchador put a shock collar on Paxton Ray?
Richard Parker: How rude! Doesn’t he even care about triggering his pal Rich Parker?
Nick Stuart: You’ve said on several occasions how much you hate him.
Richard Parker: That was before he shocked this asshole, who has had it coming for MONTHS.
Paxton falls to the floor, flopping like a fish. The voltage setting obviously has been turned way up from when it was used on Richard a few ReVivals ago.
TAL: That feel good, dickhead? Huh? Yeah, a small taste of the shit you’ve dealt out, to Nova. To those kids in the Belmont. To those kids at Grays. Yeah, I hear things. And most of all, to Jon.
The Luchador holds up the clicker to Ray’s face.
TAL: I could press this again. I could keep shocking you until you lose all control of your bodily functions and you lay here on the floor of the training room covered in your own feces and urine and vomit. And that would make me no different than you.
He throws the clicker into the ice bath. Those waiting for the short circuit to electrocute Paxton Ray are disappointed.
TAL: I prefer to settle my beefs in the ring, face to face. You just needed a taste of your own medicine so that maybe it’d knock some sense into that fucking head of yours. But you listen to me and you listen to me good.
The Luchador lifts Pax’s head up to look him straight in the eye.
TAL: I didn’t fuck with your family. You did. Nora for whatever reason still loves you, but she’s scared, Pax. She’s scared of you. And this whole thing is not doing anything to make her change her mind, so you listen to me and you listen to me good.
The Luchador’s eyes flare behind his mask.
TAL: I am The Anglo Luchador. I will do anything to protect those who can’t defend themselves, and I am sick and GODDAMN TIRED of this company being full of sociopaths who think because they signed a fucking contract here that they’re protected from consequences of their actions.
The Luchador rips the collar off Paxton’s throat, sending even more recoil down every square inch of the Butcher’s skin.
TAL: The time’s yours, dickhead.
The Luchador walks out into the hallway leaving Paxton gasping for air behind him, just at the same time that someone is charging by.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHH
Both the Luchador and the runner recoil backwards. The hallway runner is revealed to be none other than… Doppeltsonda?!?!?
TAL: Hey, watch where you’re going… Chandler?
Doppeltsonda: Damn, I can’t believe that still works. You really don’t watch the rest of the show, do you?
TAL: Hey, I have…
Doppeltsonda: Shit, gotta run.
Doppeltsonda books it out of there as the real Chandler Tsonda comes into frame, who comes to a halt when he notices the scene. He’s got a nice glisten, a sensual glisten, despite being lightly out of breath from the chase.
Chandler Tsonda: Hey Luch, uh, everything okay in there?
TAL: Yeah, I just hit Paxton with a shock collar.
Chandler Tsonda: (cocking his head slightly) No shit? Wow, that rules. Can I get a turn? No wait. I gotta go catch Doppelfuck. Good luck electrocuting that swamp mutt, though, sincerely. Gottagobyeeeeeee! (yelling after Doppeltsonda) I’M GONNA WEAR YOUR SKIN LIKE A MINK COAT WHEN I FIND YOU, YOU GOBLIN.
Tsonda speeds off in hot pursuit of his double. The Luchador stops and remarks.
TAL: It’s always something around here, shit.
He turns and walks off in the other direction as we return to ringside for our next match.