Resistance Is Futile
The feed cuts to outside the MGM Grand Garden Arena. Our dear junior reporter Simon Tillier is there with a mic in his hand, expectedly wearing his standard powder blue suit. He would typically be smiling, were it not for his present interview subject. “The Escape Artist” Rezin stands beside him, a perturbed scowl etched across his grizzled face. Behind them in the background, we can see the entrance to the parking lot area.
Simon Tillier: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Simon Tillier on the scene here, once again in the company of the ever infamous Rezin… who I should point out, is not scheduled to be here tonight, but is… quite regrettably here in any case.
Rezin: Here like a STAIN ya can never wipe out, Simon!
Simon Tillier: Rezin, first of all, I need to ask… what the heck happened to you?
Rezin: Drugs and Sabbath. What more needs to be said?
A beat of silence follows, and Rezin realizes the reporter is referring to his appearance. The Goat Bastard is barely half visible beneath a seemingly random spattering of blood-and-sweat-stained bandages. He’s been cut open in many areas on his torso and arms. The reddened, swelling skin creeping up around his neck and shoulders would suggest he’s been or dangerously close to being on fire at some point.
To put it simply, he looks like he’s been through hell and back. It doesn’t seem to be affecting him.
Rezin: Oh, you mean all THIS? Long story… had to kick some rip-off wannabe edgelord off my turf. It was a rather un-PLEASANT experience, to say the least. Just another day in the life of being the most PUNK ROCK wrestler on the planet.
Simon Tillier: But, I mean… should you be here right now? As opposed to, I don’t know, seeking some sort of medical attention? Aren’t you in pain?
Rezin: YES, Simon!! EX-CRU-SHE-AIN’T’N PAIN!! PHYSICAL!! MENTAL!! ALL of the PAIN, ALL through my rotten life! But I ain’t ever let it stop me from BLAZIN’ IT UP! Not while there’s still a world to BURN! PAIN ain’t nothin’ when you can drown it out with SHEER RAGE… and RIGHT NOW, I am ENRAGED, Simon!
Simon adjusts his tie, as if bracing himself for what’s to come.
Simon Tillier: Dare I ask why that’s the case, Rezin?
Rezin: I DOUBLE-DOG DARE YA, Simon! I tell ya am straight-up PISSED OFF!! Cause sure, I could be sittin’ in some hospital right now, gettin’ pumped with morphine and tellin’ the quack doctor why I ain’t got health insurance, and how the whole corrupt system is just a tool of the corporate parasites! But instead I decided to come HERE tonight, to show all these normies WHAT FOR…
He angrily points at the line of Enemigos standing guard at the entrance to the parking lot. Standing between him and his beloved freedom to commit acts of indecency and domestic terrorism.
Rezin: …only to find out that THOSE mute bootlickers won’t let me in the building tonight!
Simon Tillier: I mean, I think that’s somewhat understandable, considering you did reportedly destroy some expensive production equipment after your tantrum at Culture Shock.
Rezin’s feet leave the ground as all of his limbs explosively thrash through the air.
Rezin: “TANTRUM?!” WHAT!? I was EXPRESSING MYSELF!! That was a PERFECTLY REASONABLE emotional reaction, given the circumstances!
Simon Tillier: Well… what can be said, Rezin? We’re all very sorry you lost, but someone with your years in this business should know well and accept by now that sometimes you fall short of your ambitions.
Rezin: NO, Simon! I didn’t fall short of ANYTHING! In my breakout moment at Culture Shock, I was ROBBED of my chance to be the Five Star Champion! I should be one holding that title, Simon! I should be the one standing in that ring right now, giving the heart-felt victory speech, getting the RESPECT and ACCREDITATION that I DESERVE!! Instead, they throw me in the GUTTER like some disposable piece of TRASH!
Simon Tillier: I’m sorry you feel that way… but the fact remains, Hayes Hanlon worked hard to win that title, and most would say he deserves every bit of the recognition he’s getting right now.
Rezin: HA!! That’s a company line if I ever heard one! Well, the fact ALSO remains that he didn’t pin ME to win that belt!
Tillier’s eyebrow arches as he processes the sheer irony of that statement. Before he can get a word in, however, Rezin snatches the junior reporter by the lapel and yanks him in close.
Rezin: WHAT, Simon?! WHAT!? Are you about to tell me I’m being HYPOCRITICAL right now?! Well GO ON!! SAY IT!! TRY ME, SIMON!!
Simon’s attention turns from Rezin to someone standing behind him, off camera.
Simon Tillier: Umm… who is this?
The shot pulls back to reveal a towering, bearded man. His straight-laced business-casual attire is absurdly undercut by a novelty horned Viking helmet resting on his head. Somewhat apprehensively, he waves nervously to the reporter.
Ollie Arsvinnar: Oh, hey, uh… pleased to meet you. I’m Ollie Arsvinnar, the Viking… accountant, I guess?
Simon’s eyes flash with a look of familiarity.
Simon Tillier: Have I… seen you somewhere before?
The Viking accountant’s eyes widen with alarm, but before anything can come of it, Rezin interjects.
Rezin: OLVIR!! Did ya find an alternative route into the building?
Ollie Arsvinnar: Well… technically, yes, I did.
He holds up a pair of tickets. Rezin’s eyes bulge to Nic Cage proportions.
Ollie Arsvinnar: I thought about it, and realized it would be a lot easier if I just bought a couple tickets from the gate. Not the greatest seats, but we can still see most of the action from the PRIMEview, right?
Rezin furiously rips the tickets out of his associate’s hand and throws them to the pavement.
Rezin: DAMBIT, OLVIR!! We’re supposed to be BRINGIN’ THIS PLACE DOWN, NOT fillin’ their pockets!
Ollie shrinks as the much smaller man admonishes him. The Escape Artist turns his attention back to Simon.
Rezin: MARK MY WORDS, Simon… my WAR with PRIME has only just begun! This REZISTANCE can’t be stopped!
Rezin storms out of the frame, leaving the other two men to awkwardly linger for a beat…
…then he briefly slips back in to retrieve the tickets he threw to the ground.
Rezin: Okay, Olvir, let’s go watch the rest of the stupid friggin’ show…
The Goat Bastard makes his exit, with the Viking eagerly following close behind. Simon breathes a sigh of relief and shakes his head while looking into the camera.