Trying, trying times here in the Masters of the Moscowverse camp. You might’ve noticed a distinct lack of fanfar about our recent excursion…and the less we talk about that, the happier I’ll be. Guess it just wasn’t meant to go our way, was it?
And that’s why we took the long way home. We couldn’t bear to show our faces so soon after the Alabama Gang ran us out of town, so we decided to hit up as many stops as we could on the way back.
Hell, once we set foot in the States we stopped by all the Buc-ees, all the Wawas, all the Sheetzes and AM-PMs we could find. We are now convenience store connoisseurs if you will…but that is another story for another time.
Instead, I’m taking a cue from one Anna Daniels and asking y’all to turn the clock back a bit…namely, to September 23, 2022. UltraViolence, Las Vegas, the night Randall and I beat the living tissue out of the Dangerous Mix…but something else happened that night.
Gee, if only I could put my finger on it…oh! An act of betrayal, before everyone watching in Vegas and at home. That was the night Paxton Ray put on his favorite Cyndi Lauper album, showed his true colors, and put Jonathan Rhine out of his damn misery.
You’re probably wondering why ol’ Kenny Freeman is bringing up events from nearly a year ago, and the answer is simple…look at everything that’s happened since.
Paxton got fired from PRIME, y’all…lest we forget, that man should’ve seen his way out and never allowed back in. The problem is, this business has a funny way of letting shit slide for the sake of who the hell knows what.
That’s why Jared Sykes never got so much as admonished for nearly ending my buddy Randall’s career when he absolutely wrecked the Entertainer’s necktoral muscles. Nor did Kaz when he broke Randall’s legs nearly clean in half at that one show down in Mexico.
No, apparently certain folks get away with near murder around these here parts…and if you’ve ever sat at home wondering why the Masters got wrapped up in Ivan Stanislav’s business, you now have your reason why.
People are getting way too many passes around here…and the Red Army seeks to collect.
Paxton Ray had his chance to make good on any promises he wanted to make, and that chance came and went when he lost at Tropical Turmoil. So now what, Paxxy? Got anymore tricks up your sleeveless, uh, sleeve come ReVival 33? Or is Kenny “by golly” Freeman gonna have to make an example out of you?
Because I have laid out a road to walk, a road that runs through all of the Red Army’s foes and nuisances…and boy howdy are you a fuckin’ nuisance. So, when we head to Pittsburgh, I’m gonna grab a Terrible Towel and wrap that bad boy around your terrible neck, and pull as tight as I can until I can’t pull anymore.
Because putting you out of YOUR misery only seems fitting, only seems right. It’ll be revenge for Rhine, it’ll be a favor to Sykes, and most importantly, it’ll be a message from the Russian Bear himself. Ivan Stanislave sends his regards, and I’m the delivery boy.
Who’s fighting for Nora NOW, bitch?
Some Random Sheetz
After what seems like forever, the Masters of the Moscowverse have finally made a pitts stop here in Pittsburgh…and naturally, they have stopped at the Promised Land of the Pitt, a Sheetz restaur–no, that’s too nice a word. The place where the food is, that’s a more fitting description for this location…anyway, inside the store we can just about make out Randall walking around, grabbing who knows what for the final leg on their journey back to their allies. As for Kenny, well…the young man sits outside, eagerly keeping watch in case Alexei Ruslan comes around to pick the duo up.
Alas, that man never comes…instead, a blue portal swirls open, revealing the Council of Concerned Kennys. This, naturally, draws a sigh from Kenny-PRIME as he rolls his eyes…which quickly catch sight of a woman amongst the group. This immediately raises some confusion with the young man, gulping for air as his Ken-temporaries approach.
“Kenny!” shouts one of the Kennys, a tall, lanky fella. “How was your travel? Are you feeling Keno–”
“No,” replies the PRIME Factor, shaking his head furiously. “I’m not doing dumb pop culture references tonight. I didn’t even see that movie.”
The inquiry just frustrates Kenny further, until the lanky Freeman looks at his compatriots. A shorter, more stout Kenny speaks next, motioning toward the lady in their presence.
“Since you would rather not chit chat, let’s get down to business. We have a new companion for you to keep an eye on for a bit, she’s in training to be on the council. Kenny, meet…Kendra Freeman.”
Kenny’s eyes widen in surprise, even shock, at the idea of a…female Freeman, on the Council. Let us not stress about the cultural implications of such a revelation now, dear reader, because before Kenny can raise so much as a “no thank you” the Council has already retreated through their portal, leaving Kendra alone with Kenny. Seconds later, Randall steps out through the door with a couple large fountain drinks, prompting a cute little outdated reference from the newest auxiliary member of the Masters before we fade to black…
“Big Gulps, huh?”