IN THE NAME OF THE CROWNLESS KING

ReVival 16 rolls along, cutting away to a dark room. A single stool sits empty in the center, and remains empty until a lone figure walks into frame. Dressed in a patchwork fur cloak, the man sits down at the stool, and tents his fingers as he looks towards the ground.

Coral Avalon: You know, I’ll be honest. I’m not one for sitting around and talking. Especially these days.

The “Fighting for Jonathan” T-shirt is prominent underneath the cloak. 

Coral Avalon: But you all saw me at UltraViolence, backing up my boys, and I felt the need to introduce myself.

In the background, behind Coral, walks Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips of the Winds of Change. Not dressed to compete, the two stand there with their arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Actually, some of that’s a lie. Sid’s the one doing that. Joe’s got himself a bucket of popcorn.

Coral knows they’re behind him, but tries not to cringe.

Coral Avalon: My name is Coral Avalon.

He has an easy smile as he continues.

Coral Avalon: Before you all ask, and I know a few of you are going to ask… yeah, that’s the real name. The one I was born with. You can make fun of it if you want, and I don’t really care if you do. But if you’re going to do that, you’d better not miss.

He winks at the camera.

Coral Avalon: Fifteen years ago, I was right here in PRIME. The lead clown in the Codemaster’s clown car called the Blue Rogues. There were eight of us. Me, the Codemaster, Mega Job, the Falk Brothers, and Joe’s aunt, Alexandria. We were the PRIME Tag Team Champions. Getting there and then keeping the belts, that was my job. Everyone else’s job was pure shenanigans.

He pauses to smile to himself, remembering a different time. Then he lets the smile fade.

Coral Avalon: And it lasted all the way until a corporate suit wearing a human being decided that I wasn’t worth keeping around. 

He looks straight at the camera.

Coral Avalon: But that… that was fifteen years ago.

He smiles, again, showing teeth. A grin that might be comparable to certain cats from Wonderland.

Coral Avalon: I tell you the story of who I was in PRIME, not because I really want anyone to remember it, but because I want to prove how far I’ve come. I’ve made my return. And I’ve found that PRIME’s plenty full of guys who’re exactly the same as when I saw them last, and… I’m not that. I’ve grown. I’ve changed. You cling too desperately to the past, and you’ll let go of your future.

With a mouth full of popcorn, Joe Fontaine finally chimes in.

Joe Fontaine: Very enlightening!

Sid jabs Joe in the shoulder for the outburst, and Joe reacts with a loud “ow”. In the foreground, Coral closes his eyes, and remains calm. It’s a feat that might not have been possible without building up more than a decade’s worth of patience.

Coral Avalon: Do you mind?

Sid Phillips: I want to talk about powerbombs.

Coral Avalon: You always want to talk about powerbombs. Don’t you have anything else you want to talk about besides powerbombs?

Sid Phillips: No.

Joe Fontaine: We could talk about Street Fighter.

Sid Phillips: No. No gods, no kings, no Shoryukens, only powerbombs.

Coral Avalon: Guys. Don’t make me come over there.

While Coral’s response is genial, there’s a hint in the tone that made both members of the Winds of Change shut up instantly. After all, they both know that the manner of Coral Avalon “coming over there” is going to be in the form of King Arthur’s spear. In foot form.

With the peanut gallery quiet for the moment, Coral turns back to the camera.

Coral Avalon: So, I come to you not as the Kleptomaniac of the past that made his name on the backs of what he took from others, but as a king who leads himself. And I’ll fight anyone to prove that. Doesn’t matter if you have a championship or not. Doesn’t matter if you’re Regular or GREAT. Doesn’t matter how many doctorates you claim to have. Doesn’t matter if you’re a cultist, a follower, a fellow berry, from the multiverse, a bandit… a father of suplexes or his first cousin. Doesn’t matter if you travel by boat, by jet, or by TARDIS. Doesn’t even matter if it’s Paxton Ray, who might not have a heartbeat before I even get a chance to put him in a ditch.

Coral’s eyes glinted. There’s a quiet anger behind them simply mentioning that name. One that, for now, he’s willing to keep buried.

Coral Avalon: If you’re on the other side of that ring from me, you’re gonna regret it. 

Behind him, Joe munches his popcorn VERY audibly. And Sid chimes in.

Sid Phillips: ‘Cause we’re all gonna powerbomb you.

Coral casts a bewildered glance behind him towards Sid.

Coral Avalon: What? No. It would just be me doing the powerbombs, in this case. You can do the powerbombs for your own matches.

Joe Fontaine (mouth full of popcorn): I dohn’t do powahboms, bruh.

Sid Phillips: Yeah. Come on. I didn’t graduate with honors and a pHD from the West Arizona University of Powerbombs with a major in Greater Powerbomb Theory and a minor in gardening, to not powerbomb people.

Coral tries very hard not to look like he has a headache.

Coral Avalon: First of all, that’s not a real university. Second of all, that’s not a real major. Third of all… gardening?

Sid Phillips: Everyone’s got to have a hobby. Mine’s flower arrangements. 

Coral Avalon: I’m going to ignore you now.

Sid Phillips: Fair.

Coral turns back to the camera, and gestures to his left and his right.

Coral Avalon: These two are my students. And while they’re not sitting here with the PRIME Tag Team Championships after UltraViolence… rest assured, those are still on their radar. 

Sid Phillips: I’m gonna invent a whole new powerbomb just for those berries.

Coral Avalon: Okay, I know I said I was going to ignore you, but… okay. I’m sure you can do that. 

Sid Phillips: The heavens themselves will be born asunder by the very force of the powerbomb I will deliver to that Jared Blueberry. The ground will quake as it’s delivered, and he will only ever be identified by whatever Jell-O flavor he leaves behind when he is smote. By powerbomb.

Joe Fontaine: Gonna go out on a limb and say… probably blueberry-flavored.

Sid Phillips: He will shit blueberries from every orifice after I am done powerbombing him with the righteous fury of a million burning suns.

Joe Fontaine: Gross. 

He shovels popcorn into his mouth. Some of it misses.

Joe Fontaine: I’m eating here, bro.

Coral Avalon: You know, Sid, he is my friend and he’s going through a tough time right now. Like, he’s taken what happened to Jon the hardest out of any of us. So maybe we don’t threaten to murder Jared with a heaven-splitting death Jell-O powerbomb.

Sid Phillips: You’re right.

He turns to Joe, and “whispers” to him.

Sid Phillips: Psst. Still going to powerbomb him to death.

Joe Fontaine: Psst. He didn’t seem so bad, though. Said some cool things to me after the match.

Coral Avalon: Guys. It’s not whispering if you say “psst” before the things you say.

Both Joe and Sid turn to Coral, and stare at him for a while. Then they both turn and leave, walking off-screen to the left. Coral closes his eyes and waits for a moment, before he lets out a deep sigh.

Coral Avalon: Well, a kingdom isn’t built in a day.

He stands from his seat. His heavy, ridiculous cloak knocks over the stool when he does, and he stands there awkwardly over the fallen stool like it’d been shot by snipers. Yup. This promo is definitely going well for him, and that feeling is etched all over his face.

Coral Avalon: Next time… just leave Joe and Sid in catering before I do this. Yeah. That’s what I should do.

He walks away, muttering to himself.

And ReVival moves along.