Wrestle Kingdom: Our Flag Means Powerbombs

It was a tale as old as time.

Deep in the heart of the PRIMEsea, one of the seven great seas of the Phoenix Ring, there was a great pirate cove.

During the Golden Age of Wrestle Piracy, great wrestle pirates of the time dominated the waters around this cove. Names like “Black Brand” Youngblood, “Sunglasses” Sirrajin, and “the Big Bad” Wolfenden became ripples that would forever rock the waves of the Great Seas.

This great cove was called “Rassletuga”.

Here, the next generation of wrestle pirates have already arrived. Many of the old guard have retired, or have died, or retired and then died, or in one very specific case no one’s real clear about had died and then retired. Dammit, Dusk. Those that remained found that the new generation held no love for the old. Just last year, the Glue Pirates came out of nowhere and sent “Black Brand” straight to Davy Gibson’s Locker. Now he survived as a suplex revenant ripping unfortunate wrestle sailors into the briny deep with Randallplexes.

When last we left them, Sir Fontaine and Sir Phillips had conquered Filmix the Unconquerable, once thought to be incapable of being conquered until he was in fact conquered. As such, Lord Nathaniel Colton was forced to give up his pursuit of the Miracle Chaos Annihilation Suplex, for Filmix the Unconquerable was key to its secrets. But who knew what evils that tyrant wrought from the Colton Midlands? I bet he refused to show hog to this day!

Afterwards, the wizards-errant traveled to the Phoenix Ring in search of new adventures, and found themselves lost. Hilariously lost.

Legends told of these “Wizards of the Wind” say that they wound up in the cursed seventh sea, the Sea Lost to Crayola. Somehow, they braved unspeakable horrors unfit for repeating in polite wrestle society and made it to port.

Thus did their story begin…

*.*

00:35:19…

“Joe, why are you doing this now!? The tag title match is in a half hour!”

“Relax. Let me do this. It’s important.”

“Pirates, though!? Does this look like HOW!?”

“Funny you should mention that…”

*.*

“Yarr!”

No sooner had the terminally lost wizards arrived in Rassletuga were they witness to a sight hitherto unseen even in their experience of battling the wrestle wizards of the Colton Midlands.

A wrestle pirate came swinging from a ramshackle rooftop, dropping a double axehandle down on a hapless wrestle pirate from a rival crew. This pirate wore an eyepatch on his right eye, one that was in the shape of a championship belt and in a very specific shade of red. His tattoos were a discordant mess of doodles underneath his opened silk shirt, as though the tattoo artist gave up on life.

Another pirate near the one that’d become a confetti of blood via axehandle smash pointed at this scene in horror.

“Oh no!” he shouted, “It’s the Best Alliance Pirates!”

“By the briny beard of Hoytseidon!” another pirate shouted. “Protect ye eyes!”

Several more pirates came flying in with double axehandles, their hands clasped menacingly. One wrong move and, brother, it’d be the end. They had the same eyepatches as the avant-garde tattooed vanguard of their crew, but they didn’t have nearly as many stupid tattoos as that asshole did.

Chaos ensued, because that’s always what ensued when the BAP got pirate-y. (It’s the name of their show, after all.)

When Sir Fontaine and Sir Phillips arrived, they tried to not get involved, even as the axehandles flew. Inter-pirate gang warfare was the kind of gang warfare they wanted no part of. Usually, that ended with threatening synchronized dance moves and knife-sized kendo sticks.

Someone took a dropkick and flew into the ocean. Another was suplexed so hard that they broke the planks of the pier and was now a set of legs sticking out from them. A pirate came flying in with a 630° senton and flattened one of the Best Alliance pirates, only to get stabbed in the eye by a pirate wielding a ballpoint pen – typical pirate weaponry if I’d ever heard of it.

Then one pirate got in Sir Phillips’ way, so he powerbombed him to death. Like, he actually exploded into limbs and everything, and nobody even stopped to discuss how fucked up that was or mourned his death or anything.

What it did do was make everyone stop and take notice of the two wizard-errants.

Several pirates, some of them now with 50% less depth perception than they had previously, took unconscious steps back. Few in Rassletuga had ever seen a wrestle wizard before, especially one so adept at one very specific spell.

“Sir Phillips, this is not good,” Sir Fontaine muttered, his two eyes going from one one-eyed pirate to the next.

“I’ll say. I got wrestle pirate blood on my tunic!” Sir Phillips complained, as the pirates started to converge on them, threatening axehandles clasped. Sir Fontaine picked up the only weapon available to him: the powerbomb victim’s severed leg, very atypical wrestle weaponry.

This could all go very poorly. Rassletuga was not a place for wrestle wizards. This wasn’t Fruitstadt. It wasn’t even the Colton Midlands, a place which cartographers hotly debated if they should actually be called “Highlands”. The wizards could very well meet their ends by the axehandles of the Best Alliance Pirates.

That’s when a man appeared between the pirates and the brave wrestle wizards.

Brandishing a kendo stick with the handle of a cutlass, the man stood pointing his weapon at the pirates before him. He dressed in a silk shirt and had blonde hair like the sun.

“Those of you who wish to be sent screaming to Gehenna, step forward now.”

There was something intense about the man standing before the brave wizards. An aura. A palpable thing that could make lesser men pass out just from the pressure. Indeed, a few of the pirates before him decided that they had better things to do with their time than dying or getting yakuza kicked. At least one actually passed out, foaming at their mouth. The rest fled. For the sake of their pride, their screams will not be described like those of little girls.

Well, okay, maybe that one awfully tattooed one. If his octaves were any louder, only dogs would be able to hear the screams.

Once they fled, the man sheathed his kendo cutlass, and turned to the noble wizards.

“Avalon. Crownless Pirate King. We should talk,” he said, arching an eyebrow at Sir Fontaine.

“And put the leg down, please. That’s gross.”

*.*

00:30:41…

“You know, we could just talk strategy instead of going down this pirate hole.”

“You’re a pirate hole. Also, what strategy? We both know what your strategy is.”

“Yeah! It sure as hell ain’t a pirate story!”

A pause. 

“Though I liked the part where I powerbombed a guy into limbs like a Mortal Kombat fatality. Nice touch.”

“I knew you’d like that part!”

*.*

“What do you hope to seek in these waters, o wandering wizards?” the Crownless Pirate King asked.

He’d taken the two wizards to a clandestine hideaway tavern, because every tavern in Rassletuga was a clandestine hideaway tavern. It also looked like a bespoke Renaissance-era Denny’s, but that’s not important right now.

“We were on a quest to defeat the nefarious Lord Nathaniel Colton before he could unleash the Miracle Chaos Annihilation Suplex and rule over the nations.” Sir Fontaine said over his Ye Olde Grand Slame, “Then we got lost and saw colors that weren’t meant to be seen.”

Avalon placed a hand underneath his chin. He didn’t have much of a beard, but he stroked it anyway.

“Interesting. You kept your wits about you even after crossing the Sea Lost to Crayola?”

Sir Phillips was staring at the man with raised eyebrows.

“Didn’t you once train me to use a powerful non-powerbomb counter-spell in some ancient wrestle wizarding tower of wrestle wizardy?” he asked.

Avalon stared at him for so long that Sir Phillips thought it wise to just drop the subject instead.

“Most of your wits, anyway.” Avalon said. “Many of us here on the PRIMEsea, pirates and otherwise, have long suffered under the thumb of the Eminence Trading Company.”

“The what?”

*.*

00:27:19…

“The what?”

“Bro, don’t interrupt. I have some backstory to get through. Buckle up.”

*.*

If the Crownless King of Pirates was at all bothered by the interruption, it didn’t show on his dashing face that somehow still had both of its eyes. He merely sighed and took a swig of his non-alcoholic fantasy pirate Denny’s beverage of choice.

“The Eminence Trading Company. They came last year under a different, Popsicle-y name, headed by a man once known as the King of Blueberries. No relation to the King of Blackberries. The Blackberry King is far more ruggedly handsome. Anyway, they came to take over the fruit trade. Over time, they started poking themselves into other trades. Eventually, everything became about them. They wanted everything. They took everything. Yet nobody realized it until it was too late, when everything began destabilizing after they laid claim to the Tag Team Treasure.”

The two wizards exchanged looks.

“How?” Sir Fontaine asked. “In what way did things destabilize?”

“Because that treasure is part of the very foundation of the PRIMEsea. A pair of keystones. Many have attempted to wrestle it from their grasp to save the sea. Yet, the Convoy Pirates went insane seeking it and did big wrestle war crimes. The Nora Pirates dissolved after the violent mutiny and brainbustering of its captain. The Dangerous Armada? The Solid Gold Roger Pirates? Even the infinite Freemen of the Grand Pirates of the Multiverse? All left to ruin.”

“That’s a lot of mans.” Sir Phillips said, “Any princesses?”

Avalon stared at him like he asked a stupid question.

“I don’t understand what princesses have to do with anything.”

Sir Phillips rose up and powerbombed the table, “It has EVERYTHING to do with EVERYTHING!”

Many cyclopean eyes fell upon their humble table. Many questioned why these three men seemed to have more eyeballs than the average person in Rassletuga, and also questioned if the average person really had 3/8ths of an eyeball.

After an awkward pause so great that you could pilot a galleon through it, Sir Phillips sat back down in shame.

“In truth, a wicked witch stole away my sister, who is a princess. A sister princess, if you will. I have sought to free her from the clutches of this wicked witch, and believe she’s fled all the way here.”

“How strange!” Sir Fontaine said, “A wicked witch also stole away my sister princess!”

“What strange coincidence!” Sir Phillips said. “Odd that it’s never come up before this very moment!”

They both laughed, as though it had never occurred to either of them to mention this before now. Then they both turned to Avalon, but as he did not have a sister princess stolen away by a wicked witch, he was not laughing.

“I know not what you speak, brave wizards, but I intend to take the Treasure from the Eminence. Perhaps, by coincidence, all of your answers and sister princesses shall be found.”

Thus, the wizards agreed to join his crew.

*.*

00:23:19…

“Sister princesses? You mean Luna and Celeste?”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“God damn, time flies. I didn’t find out until Christmas. Now they’re getting married and everything.”

“Shit, dude, the wedding is in two days. Never seen Lestie so happily anxious. Usually, her anxiety is the bad kind. The kind that grows thorns in the pit of your stomach. Kinda like what I’m going through right now, to be honest.”

“Yeah, same here. Though, Luna’s actually been bearable to be around lately.”

“What an uncharacteristic adjective you just used.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

*.*

The first attempt at taking the treasure ended in utter disaster.

The Crownless Fleet was utterly decimated by the firepower of the Eminence Trading Company, and only survived when Avalon ordered a full retreat of his forces. Even still, half of the fleet was separated from him, going off to Bang! On The Sea. By the time the crippled Crownless Fleet came across the vanguard of the Glue Pirates, all that remained was a damaged flagship.

In escaping, the flagship ran directly into the teeth of the Red Army Pirates, and was nearly sunk when a cannonball made of Russian steel chairs hit it directly in the broadside. Sir Fontaine remembered a brave comrade who fell to this broadside, all his limbs having been Pillmanized.

It haunted his nightmares, especially once the chairs started talking to him.

Mostly about the weather. Ghastly.

After escaping, their next encounter was with the eGG Pirates’ tenuous alliance with GREAT PIRATE. “Beautiful” Robert Dean, great and corpulent, led the attack alongside the stealthy colossus, “Mayhem” Mayhew. GREAT PIRATE brought with him a plague of bears.

Everything was bears.

It was terrible.

*.*

00:19:41…

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry.”

*.*

What was just said wasn’t true.

Everything was not bears.

*.*

00:19:10…

“Better.”

“Can I please continue the story now?”

*.*

Avalon took a small crew to chase after GREAT PIRATE, convinced that his horrible bear plague had to be contained immediately. He left the wizards-errant with the flagship in order to continue seeking the Tag Team Treasure and their sister princesses.

They then got lost, again, because they’re not very good at navigating. Why did Avalon take the navigator with him? That seemed very irresponsible of him.

In the confusion, the wizards came across the remnants of the Nora Pirates. While they escaped the mutinous Butcher of the Sea Bayou that led them mostly intact, one of their crew members was horribly murdered by him. They were forced to lay El Hijo del Super Cool Pirate’s remains to rest through a burial at sea. Many tears were shed. Many guns were fired. 

Sorry, GUNZ.

After the burial, it would take another month before they found the mighty flagship of the Eminence Trade Company docked at a port near the edge of the PRIMEseas. Far too close to the Octane Sea. After making sure that they were not flying pirate colors, the battered ship docked far from notice.

It was rumored that the size and girth of the Company’s vessel was strictly due to the generous size of its captain’s posterior. The ship’s head had two prongs on it, perfect for ramming and also lifting cargo. As subtle as a meteor impact, this ostentatious piece of nautical transportation served as a symbol for the dominance of Eminence.

The wizards watched the ship and those on it from an alleyway, and caught sight of the two that commanded it.

The erstwhile King of Blueberries, now under his new name – “Hot Berry Lord” Sykes. The Pirateslayer. Piratesbane. Pirarrhea. The Scourge of Rassletuga. The Black Oathspeaker. The Shadowy Wrestle Dictator. The Forklift Privateer. The Ass Which Shall Not Be Named or Otherwise Given an Aside Glance. That Motherfucker. That Fatherpuncher. A host of nicknames as deep as the ocean. A presence as dreaded as any other. His blue military uniform hid a battery of scars and injuries from a vicious skirmish with the Butcher of the Sea Bayou last week. He stood with the presence of a man that believed he couldn’t be stopped. No one had proven otherwise.

By his side, floating a foot off the ground, was his partner. His first mate. Lady Calvin, the Toxic Hell Banshee herself. She came from Hell. Obviously. One look, one scream, was all it took to turn a man to stone. Toxic poison stone. From Hell. Her spectral form was most certainly not dressed as though she were a yoga hooker. That would be absurd and anachronistic.

Both had championship belts around their waists, flintlocks openly nestled within the one Sykes wore.

The wizards were taken aback by their presence. By the splendor of those belts. By how openly brazen they were. They knew it was a trap. If they tried to take them now, they’d get caught and forced to walk the tables.

“Okay,” Sir Fontaine said, “I have a plan.”

“No, you don’t.”

A pair of hands grasped Sir Fontaine by the collar and dragged him further into the alley.

The woman was considerably shorter than he was, yet she was far stronger for some reason. She threw him to the ground, which allowed Sir Fontaine to get a good look at her. Her black hair nearly reached the ground. Her red gown, highlighted by a corset, was extra floofy.

It was Princess Luna.

“Hey, dickweed, what are you doing here?” she greeted in un-princess-like fashion.

“We were going to take a treasure!”

“With just the two of you?” Luna asked, casting gazes back and forth between the wizards, “That’s absurd. You’re absurd. Stop being absurd.”

“Isn’t that just how he is, sweetie?” a gentle voice asked. Sir Fontaine knew that voice. The taller woman who walked up dressed similarly to Luna, just in purple. “Hi, brother.”

“Lestie!? Wait…”

It took the two wizards an embarrassing amount of time to put together any facts at all. There they were, the sister princesses thought lost to wicked witches. Only… something didn’t quite add up.

Sir Fontaine pointed an accusatory finger at Luna, “You’re the wicked witch what stole my sister princess!?”

Sir Phillips pointed an accusatory finger at Celeste, “You’re the sister princess what stole my wicked witch!?”

There was a pause.

“Wait,” Sir Phillips said, “I had that backwards.”

“No, you’re right.” Sir Fontaine assured him.

Luna smiled, then punched Sir Fontaine in a place best left unspoken in polite wrestle society. He fell over as though it took far too much time for gravity and his brain to realize he was in too much pain to function, and they conspired to get the falling over and done with.

“Did you really pursue us all the way out here?” Celeste asked.

“Um, kinda. Lots of distractions. Looots of distractions.” Sir Phillips said, “I thought you were kidnapped!”

“We weren’t kidnapped. We eloped.” Celeste said. As if to emphasize the point, her arm wrapped around Luna’s, who turned an embarrassed shade of red. 

“Wait, what?” Sir Fontaine asked from the ground, “Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Luna pouted, trying to not look flustered. “Dumbasses.”

Sir Fontaine only now noticed that on each of their slender ring fingers was a matching silver band.

“Oh.” Sir Phillips said, before the implications finally made landfall, “Ohhh. Sir Fontaine! Our sister princesses were not, in fact, taken by wicked witches. That’s wonderful!”

“Cool,” Sir Fontaine said from his new home on the ground, barely able to string words together without pain, “Imma lie here.”

“Were you two seriously about to attack the top brass of the Eminence Trading Company?” Luna asked.

“Mebbe.”

Luna placed her hands on her hips and glared at them with all of the might that a five foot tall girl can muster. Which was immense.

“Why?”

“Because…” Sir Fontaine started to say, and then hesitated. The question gnawed at the back of his head, like rats to cheese. Slowly, he stood up. “Because one way or another, all of this is gonna end soon. If we don’t stand up to them, no one can. The PRIMEseas will collapse. They’ll fade away into nothing. Will I simply lie down and let them do as they please? I think not. We have to try… to let them know that even if we fail, there’s still free men out there willing to challenge them. Not Kenny Freeman. Different kind of free men. Need to make that clear.”

Luna’s glare could make flowers wilt.

“You’re a fool,” she said, before her shoulders loosened and relaxed, “Fine. There is only one way this will work.”

She gestured to the Eminence’s ship, “Tonight, there will be a gathering. They call it… the Culture Shock. Great warriors from across the seven seas will compete against one another for supremacy. Even the Eminence is interested in one last display of dominance.”

Celeste added, “No one knows where they’re going after the Culture Shock, but they won’t be here. It’s your last chance.”

The wizards nodded.

It must be done tonight… at the Culture Shock.

*.*

00:09:11…

“…You’re done?”

“Can’t exactly end the story until we beat ‘em.”

“Right.”

Pause.

“Hey, Joe.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“A thought occurred to me. Luna and Celeste getting married would make us brothers, right?”

“Right. I know.”

Pause.

“We’re not bound by blood… but we’re brothers. Always have been. Grew up together. Fought together. Through thick and thin, storm and sea. None of this was your first choice, I’m not blind to that. But you embraced it. You followed me on this mad quest, throwing powerbombs in our wake. You didn’t have to. And I’d be a shitty brother if I didn’t tell you how much I appreciated you for doing this with me.”

A smile.

“Thanks, Sid.”

A laugh.

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world… brother.”

A fist bump.

“Let’s bring those belts home, Joe.”

“Yeah! Let’s go make history. Pirate history.”