FACE-OFF

The thrilling opening contest cuts away to the always lovely Lindsay Troy sitting inside her office for the evening. The Queen of the Ring and all things PRIME in this instance, however, does not appear so lovely, and that probably has something to do with the cockroach seated across from her.

…and his T-Shades.

And cool hair.

Lindsay Troy: You couldn’t even close the door?

Cancer Jiles: I thought that was Wade’s job, and I didn’t want to step on his toes. Speaking of, isn’t it past his bedtime?

Already, this is off to a great start.

Lindsay Troy: What is it now, Pizmo? You want to help me pick out the curtain color for ReVival 30?

The Queen’s barb draws some blood from her jester. He winces, but quickly recovers.

Cancer Jiles: Good one. No, I’m here to talk, and my hope is you’re going to listen. In order to get my point across I’m going to speak slowly, and use small words so that you’ll better understand me. I think that’s been our prob–

The Queen hastily returns to unamused. An owl hoots from somewhere unseen.

Lindsay Troy: Hey DICKHEAD! You aren’t important anymore. Not that you were important to begin with, but you definitely aren’t now. And even then, don’t think I’d let you talk to me like that. You’re lucky to still be here cleaning the bottom of the barrel, you crumb. Keep that in mind when you’re filling up the gallows of the ship.

Cancer Jiles: I was making a joke.

Lindsay Troy: No you weren’t.

A long, awkward moment. A moment that looks like Jiles casually taking in the room, and Lindsay staring into his soul. Or whatever he has.

Cancer Jiles: Okay. Fair. You know me. Allow me to digress. 

Before Jiles’ request for digression can be denied, he quickly continues on.

Cancer Jiles: Dearest Mother, do rest easy upon your eggs. I have taken the proper steps to ensure I am in tip top shape for my gracious return to the MAIN EVENT when I take on Regen at ReVival 30.

Lindsay Troy: Raisin. And I wasn’t aware we releas-

An excited COOLYMPIAN clamors forward in his seat, and in his excitement he cuts off his boss.

Ha.

Cancer Jiles: See, I no longer have to represent this crybaby, honorable handshake slash pressing dicks together federation anymore at Pee Double You Eh Two against… shit I forgot who it was. Hollywood?

Lindsay Troy: Get real. You know who it is. Are you trying to get fired?

Cancer Jiles: Six in one, right. 

Lindsay Troy: No, and if you’re trying to get fired I won’t do it ’til after PWA 2 just to spite you.

Cancer Jiles: I guess I’m speaking too fast because you clearly don’t understand. There’s no match at Pee. Double You. Eh? Two. You could fire me now, not that you will or need to since I no longer have to wipe my ass with a PRIME flag to prove that I hate PRIME more than anyone else does.

A smile.

A proud one.

Not from Mom.

Lindsay Troy: Is that so?

Cancer Jiles: I’ll divulge further. And slower. From the very little I remember about Conor Hollywood I do remember he is a coward. As such, I told him that if he wanted a match against me, the seemingly immortal Greek God of COOL, that he’d have to come here and challenge me to my face.

The illegitimate Son of Zeus laughs like he’s making fun of Hercules’ new haircut.

Lindsay Troy: Everyone’s favorite hyperactive little dweeb was just the runner up at War Games. That’s not half bad for a coward. Where’d you finish that one year you were in it?

Cancer Jiles: That’s below the belt! I was up against THIRTY plus people I’ll have you know! But that’s not the point! The point is…. Wait. Did you say he finished second? Not that it matters.

Lindsay Troy: The point, Pizmo. Get to it.

Cancer Jiles: The point is I’m not a sheep which makes me too big a game for Conor the Coward. Therefore, there won’t be a match between us where I have to drag my salty feet defending PRIME’s dishonor. 

Mother Hen rolls the two eggs under her eyebrows. The Maestro continues conducting. 

Cancer Jiles: Therefore, Rezin, a former holder of my extended and UNIVERSALLY lauded penis, IS FUCKED when he faces me in the MAIN EVENT of ReVival 30. 

Another egg roll from MH.

Cancer Jiles: Therefore, the rest of the Tumultuous Turmoilers are just as fucked as Rezin is when things turn up Tropical a couple of weeks later. 

Does my order of shrimp fried rice come with… an egg roll?

It does.

Cancer Jiles: Therefore, and I sure as fucking hope it’s Crumblood but he has dropped the ball before against invaders so who knows, BUT, therefore the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION is fucked.

A pause.

Cancer Jiles: That, MOM, is the point. I’m fucking back, baby.

The Queen of the Ring looks past Jiles, and to the person ominously standing behind him in the doorway to her office.

Lindsay Troy: Did you get all that?

The camera pans out revealing Mr. Coward himself, Conor Fuse, standing in the doorway. Conor sports his dark purple COMICON jacket and has been taking notes on one of LT’s coasters this entire time like he’s a reporter for the Daily Bugle.

Conor Fuse: Coward? You must have me confused with another Clown Prince. Say Cancer, have I ever told you HOW I got these scars?

Fuse runs a hand over his face.

Conor Fuse: Okay, I’ll save that explanation for another time but dude, like, HELLO do you remember anything!? I showed up two weeks ago and challenged you directly! Everything I am doing is designed to get your attention!

Conor glances over at Lindsay Troy with rolly eyes.

Conor Fuse: Guy complains about wanting the mAiN eVeNt and then the Last Level Legend shows up and it’s still not good enough. (To Lindsay) I thought you told me this guy (trying to discreetly head nod over to Jiles) was “motivated” now.

Conor pauses to dig into his pockets. He pulls out a Joker card with Jiles’ face scribbled in pencil over The Joker’s head.

Conor Fuse: Total loser, eh.

Conor flicks the card across the room and it lands perfectly in the corner of Lindsay’s office… while the Queen looks like her head is about to explode.

Lindsay Troy: Oh my God, stop with Batman and the Joker already. You’re giving people Joker Teeth Pants and Palmer Drug Trip PTSD and I’ve got enough already to deal with.

Conor doesn’t really get the comment but smiles anyway.

Cancer Jiles: Were the pants Pearl and Candy Cardinal Red by chance?

The hooting gets louder until Conor jumps in again. He takes a step into the office and crosses his arms.

Conor Fuse: Okay, so the match is happening. PWA2. Look, Jiles, you gotta help me, man. High Octane Wrestling is so boring-o, ATM. I’m coming back to face you, my ultimate enemy. And let’s be honest…

Conor tries to hold back a snicker.

Conor Fuse: You haven’t really been lighting the world on fire since you lost the Universal Title. You could use some extra motivation.

Conor points to himself.

Conor Fuse: I’m your guy; you’re my villain. I owe a lot of my success to you so STFU, wrestle me…

Fuse winks to both of them.

Conor Fuse: And lose.

You’d think he’s done but COMICON has no filter or page limit…

Conor Fuse: (speaking very quickly) Because yeah, I was War Games runner up, again. Two-time World Champion, bet. Probably one of the best high flyers in the game. I’m still in my PRIME lol, mind the bad pun that everyone’s likely said once or twice already. OH, and I’m willing to go to extremes to make PWA a watchable event this time! Bang, bam, BOOM!

Hands on his hips, Conor sticks out his chest. Troy gives her eyes another roll while Jiles looks back at his boss as if insinuating this is one of the most miserable times of his life.

Silence…

Conor Fuse: Okay, I’m done. Either of you can talk now. The match is happening, right?

Slowly. Disinterestedly. Laboriously. Wretchedly. Exhaustingly. All words that could be used to describe how Cancer Jiles got out of his seat. Oh, and he yawned, too. Now though, the chill is in the air. His good luck feet are starting to salt over. He’s chewing gum with his mouth open. His nose is inches away from Conor’s nose, and Lindsay has her hand in a bag of popcorn.

Conor Fuse: I guess this is what you meant by face-to-face.

The Maestro nods yes. Fuse glances towards Mom, maybe for a lifeline, or maybe because Jiles’ breath stinks like a blunt even with the gum.

Either way.

Cancer Jiles: She can’t help you now, kid.

Lindsay chimes in.

Lindsay Troy: You boys like Mexico?

Conor legitimately thinks about the question and then nods his head yes. Jiles cracks his neck, snorts, and marches out of the office.

…Leaving Conor Fuse standing in front of Lindsay Troy, still eating the popcorn.

So Fuse starts twiddling his thumbs.

Conor Fuse: Uh, yeah, how ya been, girl? Did you get the gift basket I sent ya? No video games or comic books in it, either! Not even a Forever 21 gift card ‘cause I know ya don’t like ‘em. Bygones are bygones, right? I mean I give you ratings, you give me Jiles, it’s win-win and then we both move TF on!

Lindsay chews her tasty snack. Reaches for a napkin to wipe her hands. Dabs at the corners of her mouth. Keeps her eyes glued on the Video Game Kid who treated her bestie Henry Keyes like dirt, spat on their friendship, and then got murked for his transgressions.

Lindsay Troy: No.

Another handful of popcorn. A dismissive wave of her hand.

Lindsay Troy: Now shoo.

Conor takes a moment to glance around the room. He clearly digs Troy’s setting but knows he’s on borrowed time so he bows to Lindsay and then scurries down the hall.

Conor Fuse: See ya later, dude! Who knows when COMICON will return, ahahaha!

Lindsay watches him go, shakes her head, and ReVival moves on…