THE GOOD STUFF
In a quiet locker room, The Tower of Babel sits. The steel chair underneath him is a far cry from his Skull Throne, but it suffices. Ring gear on, his head is bowed, sweat dripping to the floor below. Elbows on his knees, he clasps the Universal Championship in his hands, deep in thought.
The calm before the storm.
And within its eye, a young upstart barges in, breaking the silence. Hayes Hanlon, wound-up and immensely tense, bursts inside. Wide-eyed and almost vibrating, he walks up to the Tower of Babel, who in turn scans his eyes upwards toward him.
Hayes Hanlon: Okay! (He claps his hands together) I’m ready! Don’t hold back.
Calmly, Youngblood stands from his seat without a word, putting his championship on the seat. His blank gaze contrasts the nervous and excitable visage of The Event Horizon.
Brandon Youngblood: Breathe out.
Youngblood’s palm strikes through Hanlon’s cheek like a hot knife through butter. Hayes flounders to stay on his feet, planting a hand against the wall, his eyes rolling in every direction. Once he finds some semblance of balance, head still lolling, he stands back to Youngblood, holding up a finger while dazed and dizzy.
Hayes Hanlon: Yup, that’s the good stuff. Thanks. Stay golden, Champ.
The Five Star Stud turns on his heel and exits the locker room. Youngblood, for all his stoicism, surrenders a small, amused snort before sitting back on his makeshift Skull Throne and bowing his head.
Brandon Youngblood: You too, kid.