HELL OR HIGH WATER
A scene opens deep in the bowels of the MGM Grand Garden Arena backstage area. Someone stands with his back to the camera and quietly talking into a burner phone held to his ear.
Even without seeing the face, the denim vest covered in an assortment of punk and metal patches is a dead giveaway.
Rezin: …are you there yet? …GOOD! Now, put it all down on ME, just like we discussed…
We can’t hear the other end of the conversation, but whatever the response is, it causes the Escape Artist to let out an irritated growl.
Rezin: …DAMBIT, dude! You’re harshing my vibe with all this whining about “my life savings” and “my kids’ college fund” and “my wife is gonna leave me if she finds out about this”! I told you, this is IN THE BAAG! You do your part, and I’ll do MINE in the ring! When have I EVER let you down?!
The ever inquisitive junior reporter Simon Tillier slips into the frame, mic in hand as always.
Rezin: …okay, THAT wasn’t my fault! They LIED about how much that llama could hold when they sold it to us! And how was I supposed to know the condom was faulty!
The interviewer readjusts his glasses as he inspects the scene. Rezin is growing livid as he gets deeper into the conversation.
Rezin: …WHAT?! LIES!! You got that all wrong! That was all VERMIN SUPREME’S fault! That sum’bish promised me TIME TRAVEL!
Tillier timidly tip-toes his way over to Rezin. He knows he probably shouldn’t interrupt… but curiosity is getting the better of him.
Rezin: …THAT–well, yeah, okay, I’ll own up to that one. My bad, or whatever. Water under the bridge. Do you know if they ever found his other foot?
Simon reaches out to tap the shoulder…
Rezin: Look, dude, stop getting your loincloth in a tangle and just TRUST ME here! We CAN’T FAIL! And when it’s all over, we’ll make out like KINGS! KINGS, I TELL YOU!!
Simon Tillier: …Rezin?
Faster than a dude who’s just been caught by his girl scrolling through another girl’s Insta profile, the phone gets thrown to the floor and OBLITERATED under the Goat Bastard’s hoof!
Rezin twirls around, brimming with alarm and anger, and Tillier suddenly finds one of his blackened fingers pointed threateningly under his chin.
Rezin: DAMBIT, SIMON!! WHAT DID I TELL YA ABOUT SNEAKIN’ UP ON ME!!
Simon stammers nervously, frozen like a rabbit caught in the coils of a snake.
Simon Tillier: OH GEEZ! S-sorry, Rezin… I-I didn’t mean to interrupt your, um… your what have you.
Simon is obviously referring to the shattered pieces of electronic equipment underneath Rezin’s boot, which he nonchalantly sweeps aside.
Rezin: You aren’t interrupting NOTHIN’, Simon! I was merely deep in my ritual pre-match meditation–my STONE ZONE–when you happened to be eaves-doping on a conversation I was having with MYSELF!
Simon Tillier: …do you mean “eavesdropping”?
Rezin: I mean eaves-DOPING, ya normie! In any case, I ain’t got time tonight to be diggin’ holes out in the desert, if ya catch my drift, so do yourself a favor and forget whatever you think you just saw and-slash-OR heard… which again, was NOTHING!
Simon Tillier: Okay, no worries here! Out of sight and out of mind!
Rezin: Good now… WHADDYA WANT?!
Simon Tiller: Uhhh, well… I know this looks like the standard pre-match interview, but actually they just sent me to make sure you were in the building, given you’re in the five-way later tonight for the Five Star Championship. You… do remember that you have a match tonight, don’t you?
Rezin scoffs so hard that it leaves the junior reporter wiping flecks of spittle from his glasses.
Rezin: C’MAAWN… I know I can be a TAD scatterbrained, but my memory ain’t yet THAT scrambled, Chris!
Simon Tillier: Simon.
Rezin: WHATEVER! Point is, I’ve been waiting WEEKS for this match… OBSESSING over this moment! They call this event CULTURE SHOCK…and I was MADE to SHOCK CULTURES!
The Goat Bastard grins maniacally as he holds up his Zippo and shakes it lightly
Rezin: Everything you’ve seen out of the ESCAPE ARTIST up until now was merely setting the kindling, but once I STEAL this rotten company’s fancy-pants Five Star Title, I will at last IGNITE an UNSTOPPABLE INFERNO of PUNK ROCK CHAOS that will CONSUME ALL of PRIME!
Rezin cackles as he pulls a joint from his vest pocket and lights on up. Tillier’s face curls up as if he’s just tasted rancid milk.
Simon Tillier: I can only hope you’re speaking in metaphor, and not actually planning to set the building on fire. Still, I can’t imagine your scheme to take that championship will be an easy one to pull off, with a strong line-up of up-and-comers standing in your way! Names like Hanlon, Warstein, Ryan… even JC Hall! No doubt, tonight they’ll be just as hungry and motivated to win as you!
Rezin’s eyes narrow into slits as he exhales twin trails of dopesmoke through his nostrils, still grinning like a creep.
Rezin: Yeah yeah, fine athletes in their own right, I’m sure. Future stars, all of ‘em… and MAYBE, in any typical one-on-one match, any one of ‘em COULD have a chance at keeping up with a crazy daredevil muthafugga like ME!
He holds up his hands and wiggles all five fingers on his hand.
Rezin: But with ALL THOSE EGOS in that ring at once? With the STAKES being greater than ever before in our careers? That’s a formula for CHAOS… and as you all witnessed at ReVival 5, CHAOS is where I THRIVE! This overblown concept of “gReAtNeSs” ain’t anything when compared to the ability to be in the RIGHT PLACE at the RIGHT TIME, and that’s all I have to do TONIGHT!
Simon Tillier: Well, I won’t deny that you may have an advantage there, but aren’t you worried that by simply stepping back and waiting for a moment to steal the victory, you’d be tarnishing some of the time-honored prestige of that title?
Rezin: WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT “PRESTIGE?” This is REALITY!!
Rezin turns his jackyl-like grin to the camera.
Rezin: SURVIVAL of the FITTEST is what this comes down to, and I’ve SURVIVED TOO MUCH to allow myself to be denied of WHAT EYE WANT! Hell or HIGH water, I’M LEAVIN’ HERE WITH THAT FIVE STAR CHAMPIONSHIP!! So to ANY of ya normie scum out there that have an issue with that… EXPECT TO BE DISAPPOINTED! BUT, as some consolation… at least you get the privilege of watching what promises to be a five star wrestling match…
His face lights up and he slaps his forehead as it suddenly becomes all clear.
Rezin: HOLY SHIT! I just now realized why it’s called that! WOW, what a mindfuck!
He takes another anti-heroic drag from his spliff and points daringly into the camera, eyes wild and bulging.
Rezin: Now it’s YOUR TURN to get your MINDS FUCKED, PRIME!
The Escape Artist lets out a cloud of smoke and adjusts his battle vest as he steps out of the shot. We’re left looking at Simon breathing a sigh of relief that the interview is over, just before the feed transitions back to the ring.