NOT SO FAST
As Farthington makes his way up the aisle, Stanislav leaves the announce position and makes his way around the ring. He waves to the crowd, as if somehow expecting them to appreciate his attention, before an all-too-familiar voice rings out in the arena.
Lindsay Troy: Not so fast there, Ivan.
The Boss walks out from the back to a chorus of cheers.
Lindsay Troy: Since you like being down at ringside so much, why don’t you stay there a little longer?
The Russian Bear freezes with his huge paw in the air, mid wave. He cuts his eyes to the ramp and watches Lindsay Troy slowly saunter towards the ring.
Lindsay Troy: We wouldn’t want you to miss out on some extra spotlight, would we?
Nick Stuart: I don’t know what this is all about, folks, but Ivan is NOT happy.
Richard Parker: Well, you know, Russians don’t do well with surprises, or opponents, or sobriety…
Stanislav’s expression is still one of bewilderment as he narrows his eyes and takes a step up onto the apron, and then fluidly steps over the top rope into the ring. By this point, Brandon Youngblood has also made his way toward the back. Troy is unafraid of the Universal Champion as she ascends the steps and climbs through the ropes.
Lindsay Troy: After all, you’ve been coming down here and sticking your nose in everyone else’s business, so I’d say turnabout is fair play.
Stanislav bellows in her direction, loud enough that his roaring words are heard on her mic.
Ivan Stanislav: What is this about, Lindsay Troy?!
Lindsay keeps a foot between herself and Stanislav as she stares up at him, microphone in hand. Stanislav puffs out his chest while Alexei Ruslan emerges from backstage and makes his way down the entryway, his head cocked to the side as he watches this unfold.
Nick Stuart: I don’t know if the Queen knows that Alexei is there, but you never want that man in your blind spot.
Lindsay Troy: I know you must think that since you’re the Universal Champion now, that all of this is for you. This tournament, the Golden Ticket, and everything else that happens on MY show. But you’re wrong, Ivan. It’s not all about you. As a matter of fact, you haven’t done a whole lot of anything since you got that title, have you? So much for being a “working man.”
Ivan’s face turns nearly as red as his favorite flag, while Ruslan slides into the ring behind Troy and straightens his right arm behind him to summon his baton. The Queen doesn’t take her eyes off the towering goliath before her.
Lindsay Troy: Take that baton out, Alexei, and I’ll break it off in your ass.
Alexei’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s been caught. Stanislav tilts his head to the side, once, and Ruslan instead makes a large circle around Troy and stands, fuming, next to his comrade. He produces his own microphone and hands it to the Universal Champion.
Ivan Stanislav: Lindsay Troy, I would be more than happy to wrestle, but every active member of roster is busy with tournament. And those who have lost do not have right to challenge me for MY Universal Title. Do not blame me for situation created by Almasy Tournament.
Lindsay Troy: See, that’s where you’ve got it wrong, Ivan. Maybe your intelligence is faulty…
She smiles sweetly at Ruslan, whose rage nearly sends his own hat into orbit.
Lindsay Troy: …but regardless, I think I have just the person to challenge you for the Universal Title…
Troy gestures towards the ring entrance – we don’t know when it got there or who put it there, but at the top of the ramp, there’s something odd.
…?
It’s a beat-to-shit vending machine that looks like it’s been duct taped back together after a car crash. With a beret on top.
It’s the same one from earlier tonight.
Stanislav is now angry AND confused, and is about to rip Lindsay Troy a new one, when a simple piano riff plays throughout the arena.
♫…♫
♫…♫
♫…♫
♫……oh shit.
OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI
OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI
OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI
OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI
The drums kick in, a false door behind the rows of chips smashes open, and a Neck Collector emerges! The crowd erupts!
Nick Stuart: IT’S FLAMBERGE! LE PROTAGONISTE IS BACK!!
He’s gone shirtless beneath a bright copper suit jacket, the dazzling silver gleam of the PRIME Intense Championship shimmering around his waist. He’s also wearing a pair of electric teal shiny pants imprinted with dark lines made to look like lizard scales. You know those pants had to cost untold dozens of euros from the Clothes For Dangerous Weirdos store.
But the most striking thing we see is a big change – FLAMBERGE has grown a beard. It’s only a few weeks’ worth of growth, but it’s got pretty good facial coverage for a guy in his early 20’s.
Richard Parker: PRIME’s got a Bearded Dragon now, and he looks like he wants to bottle up a few gallons of Red Glue!
Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE and Ivan Stanislav – the two top-ranked wrestlers in PRIME today, two champions, and two men who have gone unbeaten in singles competition for over a year! Is this for real??
FLAMBERGE, with an unblinking (or incapable of blinking?) stare, slithers towards the ring.
Ruslan is apoplectic next to his much larger comrade. He rips his hat off and nearly stomps on it, while Stanislav inclines his head and scowls, staring daggers through Troy and into the young interloper who slides down the ramp. He shifts his wide jaw from one side to the other, grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils.
The Frenchman skips the lap around the ring and instead slinks up the steps and onto the apron. Measuring the distance between himself and Stanislav at every moment, he slowly steps through the ring ropes.
Stanislav stares down at the young lizard. FLAMBERGE stares up at the old bear.
It’s at this moment that the size difference between the two really comes into full view – not only is the Russian Mountain a full foot taller than the French Phenom, he’s nearly double his weight.
The camera frames the faces of these two men – FLAMBO in the bottom left corner, Stanislav in the top right – and in the middle, a grinning Lindsay Troy and the frenzied PRIMEates of Greensboro Coliseum behind her.
Nick Stuart: That’s all for this edition of ReVival! So long, everyone!
FADE.
TO.
BLACK.