We’re in Argyle Position and we are picking up the electric buzz of the crowd, ready for even more action tonight. The excited humming murmur quickly turns to a chorus of boos, however, when we see who’s limbering up.
FLAMBERGE. Boo this man forever. Boo him and all things glue. Glue boo. (blue?)
He’s in his classic teal and bronze ring attire and has a look of intense, sinister, twitchy focus on his face as he gets ready to face yet another member of The Love Convoy, Tristan-Crispin Gladhappy, when the crowd sound changes. It changes significantly.
FLAMBO doesn’t yet know why the temperature in the room just climbed a few degrees, but approaching him menacingly from over his shoulder is the reigning and defending Intense Champion.
Paxton Ray: Hey kid. Heard ya was talkin’ some shit ‘bout me lately.
FLAMBERGE: It is not like I am the only one talking “the shit” about you. There’s a lot of shit about you to talk about.
Paxton Ray: Can’t deny that. Talk don’t mean nothin’ though. Lotta people talk til they can’t no more.
Paxton sneers and steps forward. FLAMBERGE may have only been wrestling professionally a shade over one year, but he knows when a man is ready to actually throw hands and when a man is just posturing. Paxton Ray is NOT posturing. FLAMBERGE looks down at Paxton’s feet.
FLAMBERGE: …what a shame it would be if, I don’t know…you threw a punch at the wrong time, and my new companions and I, we were to, how you say, “eat your lunch” and cost you the Intense title later tonight, non?
Paxton doesn’t need to be insulted twice and he takes another step forward, his shoulders tensing.
Paxton Ray: Yeah, your companions. The only reason ya can talk shit, ‘cause ya got a shield behind. Well let me tell ya somethin’ ‘bout shields. Once ya disarm ‘em, it makes it easy t’beat somebody with ‘em.
FLAMBERGE: Maybe you should beat my ass and send me to the same hospital bed you sent Mssr. Rhine, ouais! Maybe if you don’t, I should pour a gallon of glue in your eyes, choke you out, embarrass you for the papa mauvais payeur you are, and bring one of three championship belts home where they belong…what a missed opportunity it would be for us to never get the chance to find out what would happen, non? Pig?
FLAMBO’s eyes are now up, firing back into Paxton’s ferocious gaze.
Paxton Ray: Well, you’re right about one thing. It’d be a shame if I didn’t get ya in the ring. ‘Course, I could just beat ya now to make up for it.
They lock eyes and nearly come nose to nose, when…
I AM DANGEROUS
The opening riffs of “Dangereux” by IAM blare out. It’s time for the French Phenom’s match, and large men in dark suits with headsets begin to step towards the two men to make sure that the PRIME television product continues as scheduled without delay.
FLAMBERGE: Time for me to go. Watch closely.
FLAMBERGE gives one last huff out of his nostrils before turning and leaving, presumably to the curtain.
Paxton watches the young man walk away before smiling.
Paxton Ray: Oh, kid, I ain’t ever gonna stop watchin’.
We then cut back to the ring.