LAST WORDS
The shot begins with a PRIME flag proudly hanging along a wall, serving as the obvious backdrop for the scene. But not everyone is happy to see it.
Enter Ivan Stanislav and an equally miffed Alexei Ruslan.
The seven-foot-plus Stanislav, decked out in his proletariat garb, suspenders, and a proud hammer and sickle over his breast, growls at the cameraman.
Ivan Stanislav: What is this doing here?
He points at the PRIME flag behind him, while Ruslan, who wears a brown military cap with a red band and soviet pin on the front, along with his brown overcoat, starts to fish inside the coat’s pockets.
Alexei Ruslan: Aha, here it is!
It’s hard to say how Ruslan manages to cram so many objects (most of which are used to hurt people) into that jacket. Even if he was as big and tall as Stanislav, one would be hard pressed to carry the arsenal that he typically has on his person, and yet he produces a neatly folded Russian Flag.
Alexei Ruslan: This was supposed to be hanging on the wall, not the PRIME flag. This is for Russia! Not PRIME!
Stanislav bellows as well, as the entire situation begins to turn chaotic.
Ivan Stanislav: What kind of shenanigans is this?! Who put you up to this?!
Stanislav turns his back to the camera so he can start tearing down the flag at one corner while Ruslan stares daggers at the poor cameraman.
Alexei Ruslan: I’m going to make you pay for this…
“Nobody’s gonna make anybody do anything.”
Enter Lindsay Troy, stage right, dressed for war in all PRIME blue, white, and black gear. She wears black and steel-studded gloves and black steel-toed boots…departures from her normal gear, but concessions she made to Ivan and Alexei for the night’s main event. The Queen puts her hands on her hips and scowls at the two men throwing a tantrum in front of her.
Lindsay Troy: Can you two chill out and stop being dramatic for five minutes while we do this “last words before the match” thing?
Stanislav points at the PRIME flag.
Ivan Stanislav: This match is not for PRIME so much as it is for Russia. Everyone knows this! What is this doing up here?
The Queen sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and silently counts to ten before addressing them again.
Lindsay Troy: Look, if you want to see what’s behind the banner, be my guest, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The Russian Bear and Ruslan look at one another. They want to look, but at the same time they’re unsure. Ivan finally nods at Alexei. Ruslan pulls the flag back and peers at what’s behind it, and then very quickly lets the PRIME flag rest back where it was. His face turns red as, whatever he saw, certainly wasn’t something he likes. He stares at Ivan, considers, and then shakes his head.
Alexei Ruslan: Best not to, Praporshchik.
Stanislav inhales slowly and looks down at Troy.
Ivan Stanislav: Alright then, Lindsay, I trust my best friend’s judgment. Regardless of flag, it would still be good for you to say a few laudatory things about glorious Russian Federation in addition to how you are going to dismantle Solex tonight.
Lindsay blinks, shakes her head, then turns to the camera.
Lindsay Troy: Let’s go ahead and get the obvious out of the way. Steve Solex is a 100% Made in the USA Baby-Backed Bitch who’s never seen a piece of camel that he hasn’t considered sexually assaulting. He’s the guy that every single Incel and QAnoner jerks off to before they go to sleep at night. He’s the personification of that meme of a guy in a pool pouring a water bottle on his head with the caption “When you’re a Men’s Rights Activist and you finally get your rights.” He’s a complete toilet and anyone who buys into a thing he says should be flushed away along with the shit that comes out of his mouth.
A rousing cheer is heard from the fans inside the Arena México.
Lindsay Troy: Steve Solex is still big mad that two years ago I beat him at his own game and humiliated his dumb ass in a Fan’s Bring the Weapons Match in HOW. That was tailor-made for you, Steve, and you fumbled the bag and choked in front of over 19,000 people in Madison Square Garden. And now you’re about to go Owen Two in Mexico’s most famous arena against the lady that just refuses to get back in the kitchen and make you a sandwich. You’re a pathetic stain on this sport, you represent some of the worst of humanity, and I am going to take immense pleasure in beating you one more time, in PRIME time.
The Queen walks off toward the gorilla position, leaving Ivan and Alexei alone. Stanislav and Alexei look at one another for a moment and then back at the camera. Ivan grunts.
Ivan Stanislav: Christopher America! Five months ago you wrestled me and I bashed your body to pieces, and while you flailed against The Russian Bear, you pulled out tiny little army men to try to hurt me. It failed. Here we are again, you and I, and you have brought one more tiny, little army man to try to, what, stop the inexorable tide of Russia. It will fail again!
Stanislav grins crookedly.
Ivan Stanislav: And you, Solex, or Kutter, or whoever in Lenin’s name you think you are on any given day? It does not matter. Lady Troy is going to dismantle you in front of all these people and leave you bleeding in middle of ring. We see you both soon. This is going to be fun.
Ruslan, the smaller Russian, pipes up.
Alexei Ruslan: And we speak for Lindsay Troy as well when we say, absolutely, that we will bring honor and glory to The Russian Federation! People of Russia, know that Ivan Stanislav, Alexei Ruslan, and The Scarlet Sickle herself stands united against these upstarts!
Ivan looks down at Alexei and grins.
Ivan Stanislav: You stay back here, Alex, and make sure those two idiots do not do anything foolish. I will keep an eye on the ground.
With that, Stanislav lumbers past the camera. Ruslan, on the other hand, rummages behind the PRIME flag, tears down whatever was beneath it, and crumbles it up in a ball and exits to the right.