Hayes stumbled through the curtain and into the Argyle position, Jared Sykes close behind. The two fought for breath as they carried through into a hallway, each panting heavily as they fell against the walls on either side.
“Well at least I still have my shoes on,” Sykes was able to force through, spitting to the floor and placing his hands on his knees, chest heaving. “You alright, Hot Boy?”
The Event Horizon only replied with erratic breaths, placing the back of his hand above his eye, a bit of blood coming with it thanks to a small cut from a wayward elbow.
The Knight Errant lifted his head, looking to Hayes through a mess of sweaty, matted hair.
“Hayes?” he asked, looking for something from the eGG Beater. “You good?”
Hanlon spit, then lifted his sweat-soaked head in kind.
“Oh, buddy, I’m real good!”
Sykes tilted his head, confused by the devilish grin on his friend’s face, despite spending the entire night battling the Russian Bear before spilling into the ring, causing an all-out roster-wide brawl, still in the process of clean up at the hands of Wade Elliott and Dam.
“That’s the shit I remember when I was a kid, man!”
“Dude, I think you took a few too many shots to the head in there…”
“Nah, man, I’m serious!” he interrupted, pushing his head back with both hands. “That was the moment!”
Jared shook the hair from his eyes, still confused.
“The hell are you talking about, man?”
“Dude, I just got to go kick the shit out of a bunch of assholes with my heroes, and my friends!”
A smile lifted in the corner of Sykes mouth, and Hayes attempted to smooth out his ‘stache.
“Jared, I’m fuckin’ here, man!”
The comment lingered in the air a moment, the Dragonslayer speechless for the first time in a long time.
And then he started laughing.
And so did Hayes.
And soon, their belly-laughs echoed through the hallways.
Outside an unnamed coffee shop, Hayes sits at a patio table. Legs crossed over, gold-lensed shades on, and sipping on an iced coffee.
As the camera rolls in, he lifts his shades, and sets his coffee down.
“Hey, look. You’re not gonna get a lot from me right now. By the end of Night One I’m probably gonna be beat to shit, so I’ll be running on fumes by the time I get to the Battle Royale.”
He takes a sip through the straw, leaning back in his chair.
“But it’s cool. I said what I needed to say at the end of ReVival 25.”
He waves his hand to the camera.
“Hey, Zion! Hey, Tristan!”
He shakes his cup, the ice rattling around. Another sip, finishing his cold beverage.
“But here’s the good news…”
He stands, leaving his cup on the table and setting a twenty-dollar bill underneath it.
“…I’m not planning to be in the Battle Royal anyway.”
With a wink, he throws up a shaka, and takes off down the sidewalk, letting the camera fade out.