FLAMBERGE vs. Genevie Carlson
Nick Stuart: Since returning, PRIME has featured tag team matches, scrambles to determine competitors for the 5 Star Championship at Culture Shock, and has been dominated by the Inaugural Seymour Almasy Invitational Tournament to crown the Universal Champion. But here, coming up, will be a first; a one-on-one contest without the backdrop of a championship. This one is about pride. Making a mark.
Richard Parker: More than that. So much more than that. Tonight is the debut of FLAMBERGE. We’ve seen teasers of his arrival, and from what I’ve been able to gather from my own personal sources, this young man is coming to us with all the pomp and circumstance of a nuclear warhead. He’s a blue chipper. A five-tool prospect. He’s been born and bred into this, and tonight, tonight is his call up to the big leagues. Tonight, FLAMBERGE makes his mark in PRIME.
Nick Stuart: And that might be the prevailing sentiment amongst many, but tonight, he must make good on the hype.
Richard Parker: Genevie Carlson, we haven’t seen much of since losing to Julian Bathory all the way back on the first ReVival. Bathory did what it took to win. No questions. And given how she’s spoken, of being the Beauty in a land of Beasts, she sees this match as being set up as the sacrificial lamb in the rise of FLAMBERGE. Make no mistake about it; Genie Carlson isn’t your usual first-time opponent. Genie Carlson isn’t just perhaps the prettiest face in all of PRIME. She’s angry, she’s hungry, and she’s planning on making the young prodigy bow before the night is over.
Vince Howard: The following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first…
Ah ah ah yep yep yep
The baddest bitch is back,
I’m back part 2, part 2
I’m reloaded and I’m killin you hoes
The lights dim as “Killing You Hoes” by Trina plays as the lights dim, only for flashes of white and pink to follow, pouring over the crowd.
Nick Stuart: These fans at the MGM definitely making their feelings felt on Genevie Carlson, and who can blame them? She’s belittled them before ever stepping foot in PRIME, calling them losers. She tried to make fun of them with a collection of rocks that turned out to come back and bite her against Julian Bathory.
Genevie makes her way past the curtain, a knowing smirk on her face. Looking over the crowd, she can’t help but drink in their boos, finding confidence in their hatreds, all before breaking off into her signature stripper dance, twirling around as she shakes her ample backside. Internet search engines will note a major spike in Genie Carlson entries. Completing a rotation, she bites her lip, a distinct ruby red against her flawless skin, winking at the crowd before making her way down the ramp. So many want can want her, but they can only look. Look and salivate.
Vince Howard: Making her way to the ring from New York City, New York GENEVIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE CAAAAARRRRLLLSSSOOOON.
Richard Parker: I don’t know why there’s such a ruckus going on here. After all, it’s not exactly like Genevie’s gyrations aren’t the norm off the strip.
Nick Stuart: It’s more that sort of arrogance she exudes. But tonight, she’s going to be tested, perhaps unlike ever before.
Richard Parker: Oh, she is. From everything I’ve heard, we’re in for major happening in a few moments.
Genevie stops at the bottom of the ramp, rolling her eyes as she flaunts herself toward the fans, putting her hand up towards them with disgust as they continue to boo her, all before running to the side of the ring and jumping up. She stands smugly on the side of the apron before flipping over the top rope, scooping up her hat from the ring mat as she adjusts and fixes her hair, the music fading as she eases into her corner, continuing to jaw with the fans.
FLAMBO’S GONNA KILL YOU
FLAMBO’S GONNA KILL YOU
FLAMBO’S GONNA KILL YOU
Nick Stuart: A vocal portion of the audience making their feelings known here.
Genie can’t help herself, mocking them, thinking some wispy little Frenchie is going to take her down. “The French can’t last two minutes in my hands.” Read of that what you will.
And then, the lights fade.
I AM dangerous
And across the PRIMEview?
The arena lights come back to life, and out comes the prodigy, the man of the hour, FLAMBERGE. He saunters from the back with a cool casualness, loudly chomping on a wad of gum, “Dangereux” by IAM blaring as the fans cheer the newcomer. The anticipated debut comes with an expectation toward greatness, and to say the Frenchman is cocky confident would be an understatement. His powerwalk carries with it a weird charisma, and as he takes his lap around the ring, he refuses to look up toward his opponent, despite natural male instinct. Genie isn’t making it easy, seemingly pushing out her ample chest to try and get his attention, but the Strasbourgis native refuses to get caught up in the sexuality fueled mind games. He, instead, rolls into the ring, standing opposite of her, his head bobbing the entire time.
Vince Howard: And her opponent, from Strasbourgis, France. He is… FLAMBERGE.
Chomping on his gum, his limbs loose as he bounces on the balls of his feet, FLAMBERGE looks through Genevie Carlson, all before turning his back on her. If the self-proclaimed witch wasn’t impressed with him before, she damn sure wasn’t now, her mouth wrenching in disgust before tightly pursing her lips. She cracks her knuckles in the distance, the camera shot now tight on FLAMBERGE in the corner, elbows resting on the top turnbuckle, eyes glowering as he stares at the fans at home.
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE making a statement here. He doesn’t respect his opponent. He doesn’t respect Genevie Carlson.
Richard Parker: Mind games. He’s not showing his cards. Cool as the other side of the pillow.
Nick Stuart: Or a rookie mistake.
Richard Parker: He could just stand there and stare at her chest, Nick.
Nick Stuart: Would have the same effect, I’d imagine.
Richard Parker: Then she’d be in control. Flaunting herself. Everything about Genie Carlson’s appearance is to lull you into her spell. And believe me, it works. She’s gorgeous. But you do that, and you’re eating canvas on a Stiletto Kiss. FLAMBERGE is built different. Coached different…
And right from jump, before the bell even finishes ringing, Genevie charges, ready to nail the disrespectful young prodigy in the back of the head with her elbow before he can even react. With preternatural instinct, FLAMBERGE twists out of the corner, and Carlson finds herself trying to pull her arm back before blasting the turnbuckle pad, her breasts absorbing the blow and causing her to wince. Just as quickly as she starts, she’s already stumbling out of the corner, cursing under her breath, a rookie mistake on her own part made all the worse by being shown up by a legitimate newcomer. And in the moment, she finds herself grabbed by the inside lapel, and tossed effortlessly to the canvas with an effortless ippon seoi nage.
Nick Stuart: Ippon seoi nage takes Carlson to the canvas.
Richard Parker: Incredible snap there! Effortless form!
The velocity causes Carlson to skid across the canvas, creating distance. She swings her hips, pushes herself up off the canvas, the anger rising inside her. She hears the laughter of everyone…the entire roster, the fans, Elijah…even though it’s only in her own head, it rattles and seethes, makes her blind charge come out with a ferocious roar, only for FLAMBERGE to block her forearm smash with his own forearms, swinging her around as he grabs her by the waist and plants her to the canvas with an ushiro goshi.
Nick Stuart: Wow! What a judo clinic being put on by FLAMBERGE!
Richard Parker: And Genie is looking up at him asking herself what she got herself into.
Nick Stuart: He’s just standing over her, daring her to do something.
Richard Parker: Watch out!
Nick Stuart: Genevie barely gets out of the way of that kick FLAMBERGE sent her direction. Good lord that might have caved her face in!
Richard Parker: He’s everything that was advertised! A lethal weapon! The lethal weapon! With diplomatic immunity and everything!
The FLAMBERGE showcase is everything his father and coach, Henri Lavigne, could hope for. The whipping kick isn’t enough to scare off Carlson, who scurries back to her feet, her anger now transitioning to a disgusting embarrassment. She can’t believe this. To be the bull to some young punk matador. To be the lamb to his slaughter. No nonsense bitch or not, all she wants to do is break this kid’s teeth. Drawing close she once again charges, throwing everything she has into him with a dropkick. Only…it catches air. FLAMBERGE is once again weaving around the canvas and seeing everything before it comes. When Genie gets up in another stagger, she’s caught in a front chancery, quickly sent flying across the canvas with a snap suplex.
Richard Parker: I’m just impressed! This guy is the next K-Wolf! The next…I don’t even know!
Nick Stuart: And Genevie Carlson, that look of anger on her face has grown despondent.
Richard Parker: Positively crestfallen. Completely out of her depth.
“What the hell are you doing?!” she questions herself. FLAMBERGE is busying himself with once again turning his back to her, perching his elbows in the corner, chomping his gum. Impressive as he has been, he’s not going in for the direct kill, and his arrogance is getting the fans to boo. Not that he cares. He simply keeps chewing his gum, ready to prove his point on the next charge of this dimwitted tart who said was going to make him bow. “You’re playing into his hands. Giving him all the control.” She rises to her feet, mock dusting off her thighs, shaking her head before lulling it to the side. She stares towards the young prodigy, and rather than charging him, stays still. Finally, he cranes his head, looks at her, smirking at her as holds his arms folded against his chest.
Nick Stuart: So much stalling here. The fans want action.
Richard Parker: FLAMBO will bring the action. But he’s also got to mark his territory.
To FLAMBERGE’s surprise, Genie lowers herself, getting into a wrestling stance, her arms out. It looks alien to those that have seen her, but he doesn’t care. He effortlessly circles her, his opponent remaining flatfooted, turning to keep facing him. Before she knows it, he catches her in a quick double leg takedown, the onslaught sure to continue. A quick transition begins. Everything is so easy when you’re so gifted.
Nick Stuart: Oh my word! What a devastating hammer fist!
CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK!
Richard Parker: Woah! Those blows are nasty! Vicious! He never saw them coming!
Indeed. Everything to this point, FLAMBERGE was reacting to in counter, and Genie realized it. She realized his ego too. Everything so easy. Lulling him into a trap. Eat a double leg to get a clean shot at his face. And boy, did she ever. Given her size, she packs a surprising wallop. And FLAMBERGE, he clearly isn’t expecting this. He’s rocked. She grabs him in a quick guillotine and wrenches downward.
Nick Stuart: Guillotine choke! What a reversal!
Richard Parker: She’s a damn savage! And I’m falling in love!
The wrenching has another effect, one Elvis Nixon is quick to pick up on.
Richard Parker: She’s clawing at his back!
Nick Stuart: Those long nails slicing into the back of FLAMBERGE!
Richard Parker: Oh man and she’s licking her fingernails now…
Nick Stuart: And now Genevie Carlson with the mind games toward FLAMBERGE.
Richard Parker: I don’t know if those ruby lips of hers are from blood or not, and I know she’s a witch, but maybe she has vampire tendencies?
Nick Stuart: She’s smirking towards FLAMBERGE who is seething, his back scratched up, I’m not seeing blood…
Richard Parker: Oh a forearm smash! This one connects!
Nick Stuart: It’s hard to think about, but as good as FLAMBERGE was looking early on, he’s frazzling now. Another forearm smash and he’s down! Carlson dropping the leg over his throat!
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE explodes out with that kickout! And before he can get up to his feet dropkick! Dropkick sends him into the ropes—
Richard Parker: Pele kick!
Nick Stuart: Genevie Carlson on fire here! The wicked witch of PRIME! And she’s mocking FLAMBERGE and these fans here as she lifts him from the canvas and OH! Lifts him up on her shoulder!
Richard Parker: Get center of gravity—
Nick Stuart: Alabama slam! And she hooks the leg!
Henri Lavigne is screaming in his native French, wherever he is. FLAMBERGE is trying to gather himself. And Genevie Carlson? The supposed sacrificial lamb? The footnote to the prodigy’s ascent? She’s flipping off the notion, reveling in her newfound role, not just as spoiler, but statement maker. Eat your heart out, PRIME; the wicked witch is here to stay. She grabs hold of him by his hair, lifting him up, Elvis Nixon quick to make sure there’s no pulling. She isn’t; she’s too busy slapping the man in front of her in the face. And again. Waking up the beast? He chomps on his gum. She flips him off after mouthing off that French men can’t last around her.
Richard Parker: She’s goading him into—
Nick Stuart: Oh what a forceful push from FLAMBERGE.
Richard Parker: She almost spilled out of her—
Nick Stuart: Oh he didn’t miss that kick!
Richard Parker: Openings! Take them where you can find them! I love it! I love these two!
Whatever plan Genie has, it’s gone, just like the feeling of fillings rattling in her noggin. The idea was to bait him. But he was too quick. And picking her up, he hits her in the side of the head with a headbutt, grabbing her arm in a hammerlock before launching her with a suplex. He doesn’t go for the pin, instead jerking her from the canvas nearly on her head with a vicious komi goshi throw. There is no playing around. No more arrogance. Simply anger. Genie drunkenly staggers to her feet, more on instinct, and without warning barely misses getting annihilated with an Axe Kick.
Nick Stuart: Barely misses!
He quickly grabs hold of her in a jiu-jitsu clinch, firing a knee deep into her belly. All the air shoots out of her body, and she collapses to the canvas on her knees.
Richard Parker: Did you hear the noise she made?
Nick Stuart: Sounds like broken ribs. Bad broken ribs.
She wails in agony, and Elvis, in the tangle of bodies, tries to see if she’s okay. FLAMBERGE, however, looks to cave her skull in with a vicious knee from the kneel, and cups Nixon’s head and shoves him away.
Nick Stuart: Low blow! Low blow by Carlson!
Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE crumpling to the mat!
Nick Stuart: Oh do you see her smiling there?! She was playing possum and SORCESS’ SPELL!
Richard Parker: Ruthless and delicious! What cunning! Never hesitate! Never surrender! Genie Carlson, you’re a woman after my own heart!
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE trying to gather himself STILETTO KISS! CURB STOMP STILETTO KISS!
DING DING DING
Adrenaline carries Genevie back to her feet from the pin, a sinister smile spread across her face, wiping her ruby red lips with her forearm as she looks down at the murmuring heap that is, because of her cunning, smoldering promise. She knows not to stay long, bobbing her head, chuckling, laughing as she makes her claim, makes good on the statement she met out to achieve. Nobody could think of laughing at her now.
Vince Howard: Your winner…by pinfall…GENEVIE! CAAAAAAAAARLSON!
She rolls out of the ring, “Killing You Hoes” by Trina playing as the fans serenade her in justified boos. She doesn’t care, striding toward the entrance ramp, the drop beginning to happen as the blows she suffered in the contest start hurting just a little more.
Nick Stuart: Elvis Nixon didn’t see that low blow, dammit, and it changed everything in the match…
Richard Parker: Veteran’s advantage Nick. Mind your surroundings young padawan.
Nick Stuart: And you’ve done a quick about face on Genevie after being so impressed with FLAMBERGE…
Richard Parker: Oh, he’s talented for sure. But Genie showed me something out there…and I can’t begin to tell you how big a fan I am becoming…
Nick Stuart: That sounds more like thirst if you ask me…
Richard Parker: Think she has an Onlyfans page?
Nick Stuart: Oh good lord!
In the ring, FLAMBERGE is fetal, but as Elvis attends to him, he violently pushes him away. Not enough to drop him to the canvas, but enough to make it known to get away from him. The music playing isn’t for him. Everything he was trained to do, gone in a flash. Now, his promise is in pieces. He is disgusted. Irate.
And even still, it’s nowhere near how angry Henri Lavigne finds himself.