NO REST FOR THE RIGHTEOUS
While medical teams are busy scraping Sage Pontiff up from the canvas after Paxton Ray crushed his face with the brass knux, the camera shoots back outside the locker room area of the Smoothie King Center. Simon Tillier stands by with The Anglo Luchador, fresh from his big win over/crushing defeat against Tristan Crispin-Gladhappy. Tillier has a microphone and an uneasy look on his face given his luck with interviewing wrestlers in the ReVival era and the Luchador’s, well, erratic behavior of late. Still, he presses on as an intrepid broadcast journalist.
Simon Tillier: I am standing by with The Anglo Luchador, and, first off, Tristan Crispin-…
TAL: Simon, first off, stand down, partner. I’m not going to give you the run-around like Erik does or treat you like a second class citizen like anyone else. Second, I’m done talking about that peabrained incel. I have to address something… someone bigger.
Simon breathes a small sigh of relief before continuing his line of questioning.
Simon Tillier: Well, uh, I am guessing that someone is FLAMBERGE. You kinda interrupted his promotional time earlier on in the show, and it seems you’ve been at each other’s throats ever since we came back from winter break.
TAL: Well, Simon, it would be correct to state that that punk kid was the one who started it, but when you’re someone like me, you’ve got to focus on finishing things. He cracked the bottle of Pacifico, but I’m going to down it and then smash it over his head so he doesn’t even dream of continuing to taunt me from the sidelines like a certain grinning wannabe mafioso.
Simon Tillier: So you’re going to challenge FLAMBERGE?
TAL: That’s right Simon. I was going to make it for the pay-per-view, Culture Shock, the place where last year, I took Hoyt Williams’ malice golem on a wild goose chase around the arena. This year though, my dance card is already punched. I’m stuffing my name into the battle royale for night two like vacationers in Cancun shove a lime wedge in the top neck of their bottle of Corona. But ReVival 25, well, my dance card is suspiciously free.
Simon Tillier: So this is a challenge?
TAL: Simon, you’re goddamn right it is. We’ve been skirting the edges on this shit for over a month now. It’s time to get flesh-on-flesh on the schedule. He needs to hit me, Simon, but no matter how big his desire is, I need to punch him in the face that. Much. More.
Simon Tillier: Well, all we have left is to see if FLAMBERGE will accept…
TAL: I know he will, Simon. He wants it too. I can read it in his face. LIke I told him back at ReV 21, I know him because I used to be him. In a lot of respects, maybe I still am too much like him for my own liking…
A beat. The Luchador reflects on his behavior of late for a second.
TAL: …but the point is this. I am the engine that keeps PRIME revving, no matter who holds the belts or claims they’re locker room leaders or tries to stand tall at the end of the show. I probably have a match at ReV 24 coming because I asked for one. If FLAMBO is who I think he is, I’ll have one at 25. And then the battle royale at Culture Shock will cap it all off. Simon, there’s no rest for the righteous, but once it’s all done and I’m the last one standing at three different shows, I’ll crack the Modelo Especial, and everyone else will see what I’ve known for a long, long time.
The Luchador pats Simon on the shoulder before exiting stage right.
Simon Tillier: Alright, let’s throw it to Matt Mills now, who has the challengers in tonight’s main event standing by!