NON-TITLE: REZIN vs. FLAMBERGE
And after all that, the lights fade. A certain telltale French voice can be heard throughout the MGM Grand Garden Arena.
Acheter de la colle
I AM dangerous
Dangerous
Dangerous
Dangerous
Nick Stuart: You have to be kidding me!
“Dangereux” by IAM. And across the PRIMEview?
FLAMBERGE
The arena lights come back to life, and out comes the anointed French wrestling prodigy, FLAMBERGE. As he saunters from the back with his usual cool casualness, the roar of boos blankets him from all sides. Regardless,his eyes are trained on the ring, his power walk carries with it a weird charisma, a calm indifference, all before rolling into the ring. His head bobs the entire time.
Nick Stuart: This…this match…Rezin versus FLAMBERGE…after the assault by GREAT SCOTT…
There is no playing around. Instead, he stands above his fallen opponent, ready to strike. The music fades.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: This…this can’t be…
Richard Parker: It is.
Nick Stuart: Less than 24 hours removed from a battle with Lindsay Troy in DEFIANCE, seconds after that VICIOUS assault by GREAT SCOTT…the 5 Star Champion TRYING to pick himself up…TRYING to get to his feet, and FLAMBERGE is just standing there, stalking him…
Richard Parker: Prey. Easy prey.
Nick Stuart: This isn’t right! Say what you will about Rezin–
Richard Parker: And I have no issues doing that–
Nick Stuart: For this ’match’ to start under these auspices? The 5 Star Champion can’t even get up under his own power!
Richard Parker: He put himself in this position. Came out and had to talk. Had to expose himself. Well, his parole officer is calling in, and his parole officer is a right bastard who lacks conscience or remorse!
FLAMBERGE merely dances around the form of Rezin. The Goat Bastard is trying to pull himself up, trying to fight, but wobbly hands and a foggy (well, more so than usual, anyways) mind make him utterly incapable of defending himself. Even saying this, The Escape Artist lunges toward the Plaster Prodigy, swiping, swinging wildly from his knees before once again collapsing to the canvas in a heap. And as he does? The cocky Frenchman puts his hands on his hips, all before pointing toward the pale back of his opponent.
FLAMBERGE: Pathétique salope de chèvre.
Richard Parker: And what was that?
Nick Stuart: Something disrespectful, surely.
Official Ashley Barlow is in a quandary already, not even sure if she should let this match start. She goes to her hands and knees, checking on Rezin, seeing if he can even give her a response so he can fight. Whatever he says is quickly garbled by a punt to his ribs, courtesy of the lanky French zweihänder. The boos rain down heavy, oppressive, and FLAMBERGE merely breathes it in, its scent sweet to his senses. As he breathes out, Barlow is up, forcefully pushing him back, warning him, but the Glue Factory’s Bond brushes her aside, giving his opponent another heavy punt to the ribs, all before launching himself downward with a heavy elbow to the back of The Escape Artist. The blows are heavy and constant, and as Rezin tries to turtle, FLAMBERGE rises back to his feet, spitting on his opponent, clapping his hands for him to stand. He even grabs hold of the cameraman on the ring apron, his words clear to all.
FLAMBERGE: Regarde la salope, Colton. Ça va être toi.
Richard Parker: This is a message. A brutal, violent message.
Nick Stuart: The Glue Factory’s prized possession, their future, the Bastard of PRIME…and he’s annihilating a defenseless 5 Star Champion!
Richard Parker: The future is now.
Would it shock you to know that the beating is enough to have a sloppy Rezin stumble to his feet? That the adrenaline has him moving forward, albeit blindly? And that the axe kick he is hit with is as brutal as any we have seen in PRIME? How shocking is it when FLAMBERGE looks to lock in the Marie Antoinette and make the most declarative competitive statement of his career? Can you see the smile on his face?
Watch it, as well as the blood in his face, drain.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE
LET THE GALAXY BURN
Everything stops. Especially FLAMBERGE. Who bolts upright. Who, if he was wearing white fight trunks, might have a massive brown stain growing in the back.
Nick Stuart: YES!
Richard Parker: UH OH!
Brandon Youngblood, wrestling gear, BMF walk, eyes locked from the ramp which he is striding down, no pause, nothing. FLAMBERGE’s eyes are locked on the encroaching Tower of Babel, hands out, the world suddenly having grown so small. There is no escape. Supplication to the Suplex God will not work, for he doesn’t speak a lick of motherfucking French.
YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!
YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!
YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!
And as this is all happening?
Nick Stuart: POISONRANA! POISONRANA!
Richard Parker: REZIN LIVES!
Nick Stuart: COVER!
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME! Rezin took the moment afforded by Brandon Youngblood and hit FLAMBERGE with a poisonrana and we have ourselves a match!
Richard Parker: A damn literal escape from The Escape Artist! He took it upon himself to strike back as hard and unexpectedly as he could and he damn near hammered FLAMBERGE’s head down his gullet there!
Nick Stuart: And Youngblood is just standing there at the end of the ramp…
Richard Parker: Maybe your comment that we’re having a match was a bit premature there, Nick. Because the Suplex Daddy? He’s looking hungry for some Bret’s Chips…and revenge.
The intentions of the former Universal Champion seem to be clear, and yet he remains in place. In the process, FLAMBERGE tries his best to pull himself to his feet, only to get hit with a massive enziguri from The Goat Bastard, flooring him. While Rezin is nowhere near one hundred percent, you’d never know it from the way he gets up, ragged, punk rock as ever, dropping an elbow on the downed prodigy. He goes for another cover.
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: Rezin on the attack now, on the offensive, trying to hit FLAMBERGE and maybe get this match done with quickly. You have to imagine that’s foremost on his mind given what he’s been through.
Richard Parker: If he was wise, and let’s be honest, how wise is he? But if he was wise, that’s the tactic to take.
As Rezin looks to press the offensive, Youngblood finally moves, powerfully sauntering around the ring, to the announce desk. Once he gets there, he grabs a headset and takes a seat between the PRIME commentators, his finger pointing to the ring, a large smirk of violence plastered across his face.
Nick Stuart: And it looks like we’ve been joined–
Brandon Youngblood: I’m making this clear right here and now…Lindsay Troy, you want to fine me, then fine me. But what these jackasses need to understand is that they’ve spent months pissing on the floor, pissing on PRIME’s floor, pissing on my floor. And I ain’t letting some piece of trash like FLAMBERGE piss on this match, piss on the 5 Star Championship, think he’s gonna rocket his little French ass to the top the easy way just because he decides he’s gonna take the easy route!
Richard Parker: A little angry, huh?
Brandon Youngblood: How many times Cancer Jiles come out here to inject himself into commentary? You like that, Richard?
Richard Parker: Oh you know me…looooooove it.
Brandon Youngblood: Well that’s what FLAMBERGE did to me. Put his nose in my business. Put his nose in PRIME’s business. And what did I get for it? Surgery. Pieces of shit like him and GREAT SCOTT calling me a failure. Well, sons, your run of the place? Done. GREAT SCOTT wants to play that game? He lost clean and fair to Rezin. You know what’s punk rock? Dealing with it. You know what ain’t? Bleaching your hair and putting on a pair of shades and trying to throw bass in your voice because the first sign of adversity broke your ass.
As Youngblood goes on, Rezin has FLAMBERGE pushed into a near corner, and is launching into him with open hand palm strikes, all before hitting him with a close elbow, and then a kitchen sink knee before hitting the ropes and launching for a diving running forearm into the young prodigy’s face.
Nick Stuart: The tide is turning here! And Rezin, Rezin looks to be a house of fire! He’s beaten Hayes Hanlon. He’s defended his 5 Star Championship against GREAT SCOTT. He’s been as hot as a murder weapon and he’s doing all he can, what he can, to keep his momentum going into Ultra Violence.
Richard Parker: And FLAMBERGE has been just as hot. This…this match means a lot. It’s a litmus test. Two of PRIME’s best, different places, different perspectives, but good lord, they have brought it!
A Russian legsweep is quickly followed up by a springboard Rezinsault. Another cover!
ONE
TWO
THR–KICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE thought he was coming out to pick Rezin’s bones. But he’s deep in survival mode now. Deep in choppy waters.
Richard Parker: But that could change on a dime…
Brandon Youngblood: FLAMBERGE has all the talent in the world. He does. Anyone can see that. And he’s run on Hall of Famers and PRIME Legends. But you know what he ain’t?
Richard Parker: I mean–
Brandon Youngblood: Punk rock. And Rezin is. He fights all over the world, fights all comers. You blink your eye, he’s DEFIANCE Champ. He’s a damn pro. And to think you’re just going to come out here and spit on him, piss on him? Nope. Not happening.
Nick Stuart: Rezin trying to press his advantage, trying to keep the pace, waiting for FLAMBERGE to get to his feet…
Brandon Youngblood: Stay on him! Squeeze the life out of him!
Richard Parker: I think the Suplex flavor of Bret’s Chips has to be salty as all get out.
Brandon Youngblood: You can’t give him quarter. An inch. Not an inch. Pressure him. Smother him and take away his lungs. That youth and athleticism fails when you don’t have air. Rezin has to keep it up.
Nick Stuart: At the same time, that volley of offense, after all he’s been through, took a tremendous amount out of him. You can see it in how ginger he’s moving. Yes, he can turn it on, but then, in the aftermath, you can see the wear and tear taking effect.
Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is up. He’s…does he even know where he is? Is Ashley Barlow going to check and see–
Brandon Youngblood: Rezin needs to keep pressing.
Nick Stuart: And he is, he’s got FLAMBERGE in the corner, he’s pushing his forearm into his throat, oh man, I don’t know about–
Richard Parker: Ashley is pulling Rezin away without making the count–
Nick Stuart: And FLAMBERGE fires out with an elbow of his own! Oh man you can tell the training difference there! Rezin throws his whole body into his strikes, but when FLAMBERGE hits, it has such a crispness, such a surgical precision.
Richard Parker: Rezin bringing the heavy artillery back!
Nick Stuart: These two striking each other, back and forth, back and forth, and Ashley Barlow is trying to get these two separated–
Richard Parker: HEADBUTT!
Brandon Youngblood: She needed to let them fight their way through this!
Nick Stuart: And in that space, FLAMBERGE with a heavy headbutt that sends Rezin to the mat! But Rezin uses the ropes to pull himself up OH HIGH ANGLE HIPTOSS!
Richard Parker: What a pop of the hips!
Nick Stuart: And another! Rezin trying to stagger back up but OH! Elbow to the throat! Hammerlock! Suplex!
Richard Parker: He’s staring at you Brandon!
ONE
TWO
THRE–KICKOUT!
At the very last moment, kickout!
Nick Stuart: Oh wow, I didn’t know what to expect here between these two, but they’ve really gone at it. Hammer each other. Doing what they can. When they can. It’s not been pretty. It’s not been conventional. But man oh man…
Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE getting a mount–
Brandon Youngblood: And that’s not where Rezin wants to be–
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE just slapping Rezin across the face. Powdering him with those open palm strikes. And he looks to be going for an elbow–
Richard Parker: OH!
Brandon Youngblood: Rezin with the surprise!
Nick Stuart: He’s got the arm and Rezin looking for the armbar! Looking for the armbar!
Richard Parker: Oh it just went to crap–
Nick Stuart: An escape. Rezin worked that to escape the mount, and now, FLAMBERGE is trying to wring his arm in recovery, and as he does, he sees he has a chance–
Brandon Youngblood: That’s a set up–
Nick Stuart: Forearm strike failed, Rezin caught him AND OH! OH!
Richard Parker: Black Thunder Bomb!
ONE
TWO
THREEEEEEEE-KICKOUT
AT THE LAST MOMENT!
Both men lay out, heavy breathing, trying to catch themselves, to pull themselves up. After a few moments, both men on their knees, they begin hitting each other, smacking the other, throwing forearms, and Rezin looks to have the advantage with a headbutt of his own that has FLAMBERGE wobbly. To the point where he looks knocked out. He flops awkwardly, his body limp. Referee Ashley Barlow looks to see if he’s knocked out completely, and as she does, Rezin gets to his feet. Maybe he’s willing to bowl them both over. We will never know, because the acting job of FLAMBERGE allows him to act as though he is startling himself back into consciousness. In reality? He’s made it so Barlow can’t see him hitting Rezin with a massive low blow that drops the Goat Bastard to the canvas in a heap.
Nick Stuart: Damnit! Low blow by FLAMBERGE and he used the referee to hide it!
Brandon Youngblood: That son of a–
Richard Parker: That’s a pretty savvy move.
Rolling out of the ring, FLAMBERGE drops to his knees. Another show being put on. He reaches underneath the apron, pulling out something.
That something?
A bag of Bret’s Potato Chips.
With Phil Atken’s smiling face on them.
FLAMBERGE puts the chip bag on the apron, reaching in, pantomiming that he’s eating from it.
Richard Parker: Well, I mean, Popeye needs his spinach.
No crumbs. No nothing. Cradling the bag in his chest, he rolls into the ring. Barlow is looking at Rezin, checking on him. Perhaps this match isn’t her finest hour. Brandon Youngblood has left the announce position, his instincts firing. And as FLAMBERGE rises, he readies his bag of chips. Youngblood begins smacking the ring apron, roaring to get Barlow’s attention. The effect works, all as Rezin is trying to pick himself up from the eye crossing low blow he suffered. The referee looks at Youngblood, sees him wildly pointing, and when she turns her head, she sees FLAMBERGE standing there, Bret’s bag in hand. His eyes go wide. She rises to her feet, quickly making her way over, demanding he put the chip bag down. He refuses. She reiterates. He refuses again. That’s all it takes. She grabs at the bag, trying to pull it free from him. He tries to yank it back. The bag tears.
And onto the canvas, a damn brick made of hardened glue.
Ashley Barlow is quick to kick it out of the ring.
FLAMBERGE stares with fury towards the man who ratted him out.
His attention should have been on the 5 Star Champion.
Nick Stuart: INTO THE VOID! INTO THE VOID! COVER!
ONE
TWO
THREE
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Your winner…by pinfall…REZIN!!
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE was going to brain Rezin with that brick of glue!
Richard Parker: And he’d of gotten away with it too…if he hadn’t picked himself a fight with a suplex crazed diamond!
“Search and Destroy” by Ministry blares through the MGM Grand Garden Arena as Rezin, flopping onto his back, thrusts his arms in the air. Youngblood power walks up the ramp, a knowing smirk spread across his face. FLAMBERGE is out cold. When he comes to, he’s sure to be livid.
He’d just been punked by the Escape Artist.