Post by EPFTW! on Apr 5, 2024 16:01:01 GMT -6
The gentle hum of halogen lighting leads us along one of the many corridors of the Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia, a stone’s throw from the State Farm Arena and just a couple of hours removed from the chaotic conclusion of Monday Night Brawl which saw the victorious Silent Discotecnicos violently set upon by the vengeful House and the ever-villainous Stitches.
As we continue forward, we eventually find ourselves approaching a lone figure lurking in the shadows outside a particular private suite - at least, as much as it's possible for a brightly-coloured luchador to lurk. As typically effervescent as his attire might be, however - in this instance, a glitter-covered, noughties pop hit-repurposing tribute to both himself and his Undisputed stablemate that reads ‘(We Both) LoveSex (Chaos &) Magic (Respectively)’ - there's an evident emotional weight that hangs heavy around El Pablo’s neck as he stares, with sleepless eyes, through the window at a person laid up in a hospital bed, bound from head to toe in bandages and hooked up to a myriad of medical monitoring machines that punctuate the near-silence of the night with a chorus of polyrhythmic beeps.
Even taking into account his usual scatterbrained state, it's clear the Tecnico's thoughts are racing, the events of the evening playing over and over again in his mind. How could this have happened? Could I have done more to stop it? Surely I should’ve seen something like this coming…
“Hey; so, the vending machine only had Sour Skittles, and I wasn't sure how that taste’d go with coffee, so I got you sparkling water.”
Pablo suddenly finds himself snapped from his ruminations by the arrival of fellow Shinijoshi member Amber Lisa beside him, a container each of the aforementioned snacks in hand. The gesture draws a smile from the Tecnico - if only a very slight one - and, as Amber turns her own gaze through the window to align with his, she feels that same weight fall upon her shoulders.
“How’s he doing?”
“Where do I even start?” says Pablo with a heavy sigh, as he sprinkles a few of the Skittles into his water bottle before taking a swig, “Fractured collarbone, broken orbital bone, cranial contusion, vertebrae diffusion…a dislocated humerus, a mislocated uterus…sixteen cracked ribs, Transient Diaphragmatic Spasm and…shin splints.”
“Oh my gosh!” Amber exclaims, her concern causing her perhaps to overlook some of the more…questionable details contained in EP’s diagnosis, “sounds like he was in some kind of car wreck!”
“He was in a car wreck.”
“Exac-Wait, what?”
“This guy right here,” Pablo says, gesturing through the window, “I overheard the doctors talking about him; got t-boned by a Nissan Altima up on Northside Drive between the Westside Motor Lounge and the Trap Music Museum. Can you believe there's actually a Trap Music Museum?”
“What the fff-Are you kidding me!?” Amber squeals, slapping her stablemate across the shoulder.
“I know - it's been a music genre for, what, fifteen years at this point?”
“Not that!” says Amber, striking the Silent Discotecnico again, “Where is Vertigo!?”
“Ow! He's right there!” Pablo answers with a yelp, as his younger brother suddenly appears from over Amber Lisa's shoulder, “Wassup, bro? You good?”
Vertigo, naturally, doesn't answer - though there's somehow a strong, silent sarcasm in his pointed glance down towards his right arm, strapped and suspended in a sling. There's also a layer of bandages wrapped around his head on top of his mask, which doesn't make a lot of sense from a medical point of view but, luchas gonna lucha. Regardless, he’s evidently - legitimately - feeling the effects of that show-closing assault…just not, perhaps, to the grave extent that his brother might have initially led us to believe.
“He's good,” Pablo smirks, in Amber's direction - though the Dynasty Champion is evidently still a little irked at having been put unnecessarily through the wringer.
“I oughta kick your ass,” she scowls.
“Yeah, well, you’d better get in line,” Pablo shrugs before taking another swig from his bottle, “there's a fistful of motherfff-ieldmarshalls that’re fixing to get their asses kicked by me first…
JoJo’ll get the opportunity to pay penance for the sins of his wife at StrangleMania, as will Stitches for his own…for now, though, we need to head back to HQ…rest up, recuperate…and make sure we're fully set and ready for the next great Rainbowlutionary red brand rally.
C’mon, you two,” he smirks, casting a quick final glance down at his brother's bandaged arm, “time to sling our hook.”
With a triumphant flourish, Pablo bounds down the hallway and out of shot, leaving Vertigo and Amber Lisa - either baffled by the Tecnico's invoking of 1930’s British dockyard slang or perturbed by his using it for an apparent jab at his brother's injuries - momentarily behind.
“...Okay, maybe you oughta kick his ass,” says Amber to Vertigo - albeit with her tongue firmly in cheek as her silent stablemate simply shrugs and the scene fades to black.
A few days later, we catch back up with the Silent Discotecnicos at Gators and Friends, an amusement park and exotic animal petting zoo situated just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. Pablo and Vertigo have been joined on this occasion - and as usual - by their cousin Verana, and what strikes us most immediately about the opening to this scene is the rather hasty nature with which the trio make their exit through the park’s front entrance. Indeed, the general atmosphere around the area appears to be considerably chaotic, with a number of flustered-looking visitors glued to their cellphones as the sound of sirens wails in the background.
“Okay, lesson one; alligators don't like Skittles,” says Pablo, rather sheepishly, clutching a half-empty packet of the sugar-coated shells in question in his hand.
“I don't think it was the flavour so much as you dinging her in the eye with that last one,” argues Verana, clearly a little miffed by whatever unseen events have evidently just occured, “what the heck were you thinking!?”
“I was thinking, if I was a gator, I'd wanna eat something a little more appetising than raw chicken carcass.”
“Gators eat raw meat!!”
“That was chicken.”
“Chickens are meat!!”
“Will you calm down?” Pablo pleads, holding his hands up defensively, “once that dude’s arm grows back, you know we're all gonna laugh about this.”
“...Arms don't ‘grow back.’”
“...”
“...”
“...What?”
“...”
“...Meh,” Pablo shrugs, the trauma evidently not scarring him too deeply as the three of them start up on the long walk back to Shreveport.
“So, whaddyou wanna do now, since I'd imagine we won't be coming back here any time soon,” Verana asks, “we could hit up Herby K’s; take on one of their Shrimp Busters?”
“Nahhh - Skittles and seafood’s a boundary even I won't cross.”
“Okay…we could head to the Asian gardens! That'd be pretty fitting.”
“Too obvious.”
“Well then, you wanna do some shopping? Agora Borealis?”
“I don't watch the Simpsons.”
“You don't w-” starts Verana before stopping herself, keen to not indulge another example of EP proclaiming his ignorance to a thing whilst directly referencing said thing, “so, what do you wanna do?”
“I dunno,” an exasperated EP sighs, “doesn’t this place have some internationally-renowned landmark or, like, a monument to some great battle where an army had to fight not only their sworn enemy but one of their allies as well?”
“It's got a museum dedicated to the evolution of the city’s water supply and treatment systems.”
“Oh, for Shinto’s sake!” Pablo wails before crumpling theatrically to the dusty asphalt beneath their feet, “it's like they didn't want their citizens to be getting any dopamine when they built this place.”
“Will you stop saying that?” Verana pleads, standing over her stricken cousin, “besides…can't be Rio every week. You wanna raise a complaint with the higher-ups?”
“Nah, they don't let me use the suggestion box anymore…”
“I didn't even know they had a suggestion box.”
“Whaddya think my first suggestion was?” says Pablo as he belatedly scrambles back to his feet before dusting himself off.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You processed everything?”
“Yeah; this is probably fine,” EP says, perhaps trying to convince himself as much as anybody else as the trio set out walking once again, “just means there's more ‘restless energy’ to go around on Monday night…y’know?”
“As if the whole ‘righteous indignation’ thing ain't gonna give you motivation enough,” says Verana, bristling a little as she casts a look towards her other cousin, his arm rather less bandaged than when last we saw him, though still suspended in a sling, “I still don't really get why this is a triple-threat match, though…you’d think, if it really was a set-up to punish Cosmo, they’d have made it a handicap match.”
“Scrappy Coco must’ve been busy,” says Pablo with a shrug, a nod to the previous bout of disciplinary action foisted on a member of the House by the red brand’s decision makers, “I guess they could've made it a tag match but, given a third of the House is still half dead from Friday night and JoJo’s obviously running scared…I mean, how’re you gonna be ‘not cleared’ for a standard tag match and then fine to not only compete in but win a frickin’ WarGames five days later!?”
“I'm not sure what’ll have irked the House's Golden gander more; the fact that JoJo left him high and dry to face you guys or the fact that it was JoJo who stood tall as the sole Scars and Stripes survivor,” Verana quips with a wry smirk.
“Especially since it was JoJo who pretty much caused Cosmo’s elimination.”
“Which was a complete and total accident, I’m sure.”
“Oh I'm sure - nothing at all to do with this little croc-measuring contest between the two of them that you and I were talking about back in Atlanta,” says Pablo with a smirk of his own. “Still, at least it gives Cosmo another asterisk to decorate his suddenly-growing list of setbacks and defeats with.
WarGames: clocked by JoJo.
Atlanta: forced to team with a debuting Tori.”
“His match against Darkwater: jumped by Alexander Umbra when he had victory in the bag,” adds Verana, “I’m sure he'll be having Dimitri draw up the fine print regarding this one as we speak.”
“Not so much JoJo’s ‘Incredible Consequences’ as Cosmo’s ‘Mitigating Circumstances,’” Pablo chuckles, “although I guess, in this instance, he might actually have a point - I mean, the strapline that Monday’s marketing team have attached to this contest pretty much tells you outright that he’s being set up here to fail!
I will say, though, that if Cosmo thinks - after what he and Tori pulled on the last Brawl show…what they facilitated Stitches doing to me and to Vertigo - that he's gonna get any kind of helping from the righteous hand of the Rainbowlution…he's got another thing coming. We talked, two weeks ago, about how we weren't responsible for any repercussions that the House might face for their incessant tomfoolery and interference; well, this week, I am the repercussions, and you’d best believe that I’m coming to the Independence Stadium with full intention of extracting every last bit of karmic compensation that the Gold Mine’s got to offer!”
By now, that smirk has, perhaps unsurprisingly, well and truly fallen from the Tecnico's face, replaced by a sour scowl that he attempts to temper by dipping into the packet of sweet treats once again.
“Easier said than done? Undoubtedly,” he continues, his mouth half full as he juggles chewing his Skittles with chewing out one half of his upcoming opposition, “Like I said before the last match, when it comes to his ability inside the ring, there's no doubt that Cosmo’s operating at the very top of the EWC totem pole. I mean, I know we were just clowning on him for his defeats but, like he himself said in the run-up to popping Justin Paige's head off back in Delhi, his losses always look that much bigger of a deal than the average pickle because, to be honest, they've been impressively infrequent across a career that's still not even a full year old yet!
I s’pose I’d also be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the fact that, at least in terms of singles competition, he's had my number on at least a couple of occasions now.”
“The last of which had him needing to count on a Discotechnicality of his own,” Verana argues.
“Nice.”
“-and it’s not like it ended up on either of your records, officially-speaking.”
“It still happened, though - and, given that we all know Cosmo’s gonna lord that Party over me at least until I manage to tip the balance in our own direction, there's no point in trying to ignore it…just as there's no point in Cosmo trying to ignore the fact that his aura’s no longer anywhere near as invincible as it once appeared. He may still be the United States Champion; he may be tied with our main gal SalTal and a one behind the lad who's pitching to snatch his ‘Greatest Rookie' glitterball when it comes to wins this season-”
“Who?”
“The Lad.”
“Which lad?”
“Stop it,” Pablo chuckles, desperately trying to keep his train of thought on track, “Point is, all of that doesn't change the fact that Cosmo's also already lost all but one as many matches this year as he did across the whole of 2023…and I think it's showing.
Don't get me wrong, I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’ll tell you he's always been a 24K croc-sucker-”
“Wow.”
“-but let's not forget, he did shake my hand once the House Party was over. He did show me respect that night; certainly more respect than he’s shown the likes of Mercenary, Vin Havoc or Captain Morgan in recent weeks! Something's kick-started a cognitive corruption of Cosmo’s combative cortices…made him grow more desperate, more willing to increase the viciousness and shorten the cuts he feels he needs to take to keep his momentum kicking and screaming in the right direction - and I dunno if it's Graves getting increasingly in his ear, him falling a fraction short in that Fighting Spirit showdown with Havoc, or just the pressure of trying to prove he's still the House’s Golden Grouse but, what I do know is that, if the cause is a little obscure, the implication’s blindingly obvious: as good as Cosmo Goldworthy is; as masterful at his craft and as meticulous in his preparations as he may be, the second those plans stop panning out as perfectly as he’d…y’know, planned - whether through miscommunication or the malevolent intervention of a formerly wronged roster member - it often doesn't take too long for Cosmo to find his Cash Cow thoroughly cooked…and that's the angle that we can take to confirm our coming out on top of this triple-threat on Monday night.”
The Tecnico tosses another fistful of Skittles into his mouth, a little extra pep in his step as he prepares to speak a little strategy.
“See, I’m sure Cosmo’s coming into this confrontation fully expecting Narumi and I to pull the classic ‘take out the enemy and then, ‘Saikō no joshi ga kachimasu yō ni,’ y’know? ‘May the best ‘Joshi win.’
On paper, it's the smart play, but-”
“But when have you ever done things the smart way?” Verana smirks.
“-but how often does it work in practice?” Pablo retorts, a playful scowl directed at his younger cousin, “More often than not, it actually gives the odd croc out an excuse to hang out on the sidelines and recuperate, waiting for the other two to wear each other down before swooping in to snatch it at the death.
So…what if we throw a little Discotecnicoloured spanner in the works?
What if the bell rings…Cosmo’s standing there, across the ring, fully Ready to Die-ve in and run the gauntlet against the two of us when WHAM!!! We Paint the unsuspecting Face of our Onihime, take her out of the equation right off the bat, and then it's off to the races!”
“A race to which Cosmo turned up wearing running spikes, only to find they’ve been immediately switched out to snow shoes,” Verana says with a nod.
“Chaos theory in action, baby! Or should I say, Shinijo-shock and awe?” Pablo grins, “either way, yeah; you hit a move like that, and you immediately throw Cosmo off his game; force him to fight not only his two opponents, but the sudden and dramatic deviation away from how he envisioned that fight going to the Rainbowlutionary reality with which he now finds himself confronted…just as he was against Vin Havoc…against Morgan Darkwater, the Silent Discotecnicos and at WarGames and, this time…when the best laid schemes o’ Gold Mines an’ men once more gang a-gley…it'll be the Rainbowlution that leaves him lying in dismay.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan to me,” says Verana, though with her expression tinged by a hint of caution as Pablo takes another, triumphant, swig from the Skittles packet, “but, what about Narumi? Surely you're not expecting her just to be a bystander in all of this?”
“Speaking of people that’ve had my number,” Pablo smirks, “Y’know, it's kinda crazy that this’ll be the first time she and I have shared a ring since World Wide last year. I mean, I know we were on different brands but, even so…”
He sighs, his voice trailing off for a moment as his thoughts drift back to that aforementioned encounter.
“Pompeii was supposed to be my crowning moment…the night I finally completed the fable that Melody Malone shattered into a thousand chest-piercing pieces at WrestleFest XX and became the EWC Undisputed Champion!” he continues, “Instead, it wound up being…well, my Pompeii - and, look, I hold no ill will towards Narumi for defeating me that night - she had her own story to tell, after all - but, even so, I’d be lying if I said I hadn't taken a little piece of that encounter with me everywhere I've been since, and not just because it took forever to get the taste of her boot sole outta my mouth!”
He chuckles, rubbing his chin as though experiencing a bout of phantom Paymon pain.
“World Wide V’ll forever be the show that could've been - and it's also, therefore, the show that inspires me to make sure ‘it’ will be in the future,” he proclaims, “Every match since then…every moment…it's all been a part of me building myself back up…re-stoking the fires of this Rainbowlutionary rocket ship and working to ensure I get the opportunity to shoot for that golden stratosphere once again!
In a little over two weeks’ time, at StrangleMania XIX, I get the chance to take my surest step yet towards that goal by snatching the International Championship from JoJo Rush’s beastly fingers - in another triple-threat match, as chaos would have it! - and, while this match on Monday may have a little less lumber jackin’ it on the outside - all due respect to Dimitri Graves - it nonetheless represents a perfect opportunity to keep our momentum going…to Shinijo-show Stitches and the Stormbringer that all the beatings and all the bloodletting only makes our colours more vivid…our fire more irrepressible…our hyperfocus more unbreakable - and that, unfortunately, means I have to literally settle the score with my fellow Most Beloved Wrestler of 2023!
I know first-hand how powerful a competitor Narumi Tsutsumi is - even more so now I've had the honour of working out and training with her…but I’m also acutely aware that, while she may have only lost a Melody Malone’s fistful of fights over the last couple of years, half of those losses have come against opponents of a high-flying persuasion. Callie Clark snatched that Prime Minister necklace from around her neck at the Prime Season Finale, and she also fell to a freshly re-sweetened Candy Crusher back in Cleveland a month or so ago…so if I can get a little aerial momentum going; get those winds of chaos really whirling beneath my Rainbowlutionary wings-”
“Easy for you to say.”
“-then there's every chance we might be able to keep this unbeaten Brawl record rolling just a little while longer,” Pablo smirks. “Eight fights…seven wins…an X-Division draw with Dio away from carrying a pristine sweep - and yeah, that's a bit of a gratuitous brag but, you know what? As we prepare to face the Housemate of a guy with whom we’ll soon be doing battle for one of the biggest prizes in the business; a guy who’s spent the last few months proclaiming himself to be the so-called ‘Light of Monday Nights’...it actually seems pretty pertinent…because, on April 8th - LIVE from the Independence Stadium in Shreveport, Louisiana! - after two of the Shinijoshi’s most charismatic compadres have combined to croc the malicious ambitions of the House’s Golden Gator…after those same two Chīmumeito have then treated the people of the Pelican State to a dizzying, dazzling demonstration of Shini-just what the EWC’s premiere stable stands for…the Rainbowlution is gonna leave everybody - friends, foes, fans and Alligatoridae family members alike - in no doubt that the real light of Monday nights…is Discotecnicoloured.
Nijiiro no kakumei banzai.
Viva la Rainbowlution."
As the Tecnico tosses a final theatrical dose of Skittles into his mouth, the camera begins to pull back, drifting skywards as the Volandos continue on their determined stroll towards the horizon.
Towards Brawl #608.
Towards history.
“So, you said ‘croc’ a whole bunch of times in all that,” says Verana to Pablo, “you do know they’re not the same animal, right?”
“Don't be a hater, ‘gator,’” comes the Tecnico's reply.
“...Awful.”
The scene fades to black.
**NOTE** Amber Lisa used with permission from the handler, OBVS.
As we continue forward, we eventually find ourselves approaching a lone figure lurking in the shadows outside a particular private suite - at least, as much as it's possible for a brightly-coloured luchador to lurk. As typically effervescent as his attire might be, however - in this instance, a glitter-covered, noughties pop hit-repurposing tribute to both himself and his Undisputed stablemate that reads ‘(We Both) Love
Even taking into account his usual scatterbrained state, it's clear the Tecnico's thoughts are racing, the events of the evening playing over and over again in his mind. How could this have happened? Could I have done more to stop it? Surely I should’ve seen something like this coming…
“Hey; so, the vending machine only had Sour Skittles, and I wasn't sure how that taste’d go with coffee, so I got you sparkling water.”
Pablo suddenly finds himself snapped from his ruminations by the arrival of fellow Shinijoshi member Amber Lisa beside him, a container each of the aforementioned snacks in hand. The gesture draws a smile from the Tecnico - if only a very slight one - and, as Amber turns her own gaze through the window to align with his, she feels that same weight fall upon her shoulders.
“How’s he doing?”
“Where do I even start?” says Pablo with a heavy sigh, as he sprinkles a few of the Skittles into his water bottle before taking a swig, “Fractured collarbone, broken orbital bone, cranial contusion, vertebrae diffusion…a dislocated humerus, a mislocated uterus…sixteen cracked ribs, Transient Diaphragmatic Spasm and…shin splints.”
“Oh my gosh!” Amber exclaims, her concern causing her perhaps to overlook some of the more…questionable details contained in EP’s diagnosis, “sounds like he was in some kind of car wreck!”
“He was in a car wreck.”
“Exac-Wait, what?”
“This guy right here,” Pablo says, gesturing through the window, “I overheard the doctors talking about him; got t-boned by a Nissan Altima up on Northside Drive between the Westside Motor Lounge and the Trap Music Museum. Can you believe there's actually a Trap Music Museum?”
“What the fff-Are you kidding me!?” Amber squeals, slapping her stablemate across the shoulder.
“I know - it's been a music genre for, what, fifteen years at this point?”
“Not that!” says Amber, striking the Silent Discotecnico again, “Where is Vertigo!?”
“Ow! He's right there!” Pablo answers with a yelp, as his younger brother suddenly appears from over Amber Lisa's shoulder, “Wassup, bro? You good?”
Vertigo, naturally, doesn't answer - though there's somehow a strong, silent sarcasm in his pointed glance down towards his right arm, strapped and suspended in a sling. There's also a layer of bandages wrapped around his head on top of his mask, which doesn't make a lot of sense from a medical point of view but, luchas gonna lucha. Regardless, he’s evidently - legitimately - feeling the effects of that show-closing assault…just not, perhaps, to the grave extent that his brother might have initially led us to believe.
“He's good,” Pablo smirks, in Amber's direction - though the Dynasty Champion is evidently still a little irked at having been put unnecessarily through the wringer.
“I oughta kick your ass,” she scowls.
“Yeah, well, you’d better get in line,” Pablo shrugs before taking another swig from his bottle, “there's a fistful of motherfff-ieldmarshalls that’re fixing to get their asses kicked by me first…
JoJo’ll get the opportunity to pay penance for the sins of his wife at StrangleMania, as will Stitches for his own…for now, though, we need to head back to HQ…rest up, recuperate…and make sure we're fully set and ready for the next great Rainbowlutionary red brand rally.
C’mon, you two,” he smirks, casting a quick final glance down at his brother's bandaged arm, “time to sling our hook.”
With a triumphant flourish, Pablo bounds down the hallway and out of shot, leaving Vertigo and Amber Lisa - either baffled by the Tecnico's invoking of 1930’s British dockyard slang or perturbed by his using it for an apparent jab at his brother's injuries - momentarily behind.
“...Okay, maybe you oughta kick his ass,” says Amber to Vertigo - albeit with her tongue firmly in cheek as her silent stablemate simply shrugs and the scene fades to black.
----------*****----------
A few days later, we catch back up with the Silent Discotecnicos at Gators and Friends, an amusement park and exotic animal petting zoo situated just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. Pablo and Vertigo have been joined on this occasion - and as usual - by their cousin Verana, and what strikes us most immediately about the opening to this scene is the rather hasty nature with which the trio make their exit through the park’s front entrance. Indeed, the general atmosphere around the area appears to be considerably chaotic, with a number of flustered-looking visitors glued to their cellphones as the sound of sirens wails in the background.
“Okay, lesson one; alligators don't like Skittles,” says Pablo, rather sheepishly, clutching a half-empty packet of the sugar-coated shells in question in his hand.
“I don't think it was the flavour so much as you dinging her in the eye with that last one,” argues Verana, clearly a little miffed by whatever unseen events have evidently just occured, “what the heck were you thinking!?”
“I was thinking, if I was a gator, I'd wanna eat something a little more appetising than raw chicken carcass.”
“Gators eat raw meat!!”
“That was chicken.”
“Chickens are meat!!”
“Will you calm down?” Pablo pleads, holding his hands up defensively, “once that dude’s arm grows back, you know we're all gonna laugh about this.”
“...Arms don't ‘grow back.’”
“...”
“...”
“...What?”
“...”
“...Meh,” Pablo shrugs, the trauma evidently not scarring him too deeply as the three of them start up on the long walk back to Shreveport.
“So, whaddyou wanna do now, since I'd imagine we won't be coming back here any time soon,” Verana asks, “we could hit up Herby K’s; take on one of their Shrimp Busters?”
“Nahhh - Skittles and seafood’s a boundary even I won't cross.”
“Okay…we could head to the Asian gardens! That'd be pretty fitting.”
“Too obvious.”
“Well then, you wanna do some shopping? Agora Borealis?”
“I don't watch the Simpsons.”
“You don't w-” starts Verana before stopping herself, keen to not indulge another example of EP proclaiming his ignorance to a thing whilst directly referencing said thing, “so, what do you wanna do?”
“I dunno,” an exasperated EP sighs, “doesn’t this place have some internationally-renowned landmark or, like, a monument to some great battle where an army had to fight not only their sworn enemy but one of their allies as well?”
“It's got a museum dedicated to the evolution of the city’s water supply and treatment systems.”
“Oh, for Shinto’s sake!” Pablo wails before crumpling theatrically to the dusty asphalt beneath their feet, “it's like they didn't want their citizens to be getting any dopamine when they built this place.”
“Will you stop saying that?” Verana pleads, standing over her stricken cousin, “besides…can't be Rio every week. You wanna raise a complaint with the higher-ups?”
“Nah, they don't let me use the suggestion box anymore…”
“I didn't even know they had a suggestion box.”
“Whaddya think my first suggestion was?” says Pablo as he belatedly scrambles back to his feet before dusting himself off.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You processed everything?”
“Yeah; this is probably fine,” EP says, perhaps trying to convince himself as much as anybody else as the trio set out walking once again, “just means there's more ‘restless energy’ to go around on Monday night…y’know?”
“As if the whole ‘righteous indignation’ thing ain't gonna give you motivation enough,” says Verana, bristling a little as she casts a look towards her other cousin, his arm rather less bandaged than when last we saw him, though still suspended in a sling, “I still don't really get why this is a triple-threat match, though…you’d think, if it really was a set-up to punish Cosmo, they’d have made it a handicap match.”
“Scrappy Coco must’ve been busy,” says Pablo with a shrug, a nod to the previous bout of disciplinary action foisted on a member of the House by the red brand’s decision makers, “I guess they could've made it a tag match but, given a third of the House is still half dead from Friday night and JoJo’s obviously running scared…I mean, how’re you gonna be ‘not cleared’ for a standard tag match and then fine to not only compete in but win a frickin’ WarGames five days later!?”
“I'm not sure what’ll have irked the House's Golden gander more; the fact that JoJo left him high and dry to face you guys or the fact that it was JoJo who stood tall as the sole Scars and Stripes survivor,” Verana quips with a wry smirk.
“Especially since it was JoJo who pretty much caused Cosmo’s elimination.”
“Which was a complete and total accident, I’m sure.”
“Oh I'm sure - nothing at all to do with this little croc-measuring contest between the two of them that you and I were talking about back in Atlanta,” says Pablo with a smirk of his own. “Still, at least it gives Cosmo another asterisk to decorate his suddenly-growing list of setbacks and defeats with.
WarGames: clocked by JoJo.
Atlanta: forced to team with a debuting Tori.”
“His match against Darkwater: jumped by Alexander Umbra when he had victory in the bag,” adds Verana, “I’m sure he'll be having Dimitri draw up the fine print regarding this one as we speak.”
“Not so much JoJo’s ‘Incredible Consequences’ as Cosmo’s ‘Mitigating Circumstances,’” Pablo chuckles, “although I guess, in this instance, he might actually have a point - I mean, the strapline that Monday’s marketing team have attached to this contest pretty much tells you outright that he’s being set up here to fail!
I will say, though, that if Cosmo thinks - after what he and Tori pulled on the last Brawl show…what they facilitated Stitches doing to me and to Vertigo - that he's gonna get any kind of helping from the righteous hand of the Rainbowlution…he's got another thing coming. We talked, two weeks ago, about how we weren't responsible for any repercussions that the House might face for their incessant tomfoolery and interference; well, this week, I am the repercussions, and you’d best believe that I’m coming to the Independence Stadium with full intention of extracting every last bit of karmic compensation that the Gold Mine’s got to offer!”
By now, that smirk has, perhaps unsurprisingly, well and truly fallen from the Tecnico's face, replaced by a sour scowl that he attempts to temper by dipping into the packet of sweet treats once again.
“Easier said than done? Undoubtedly,” he continues, his mouth half full as he juggles chewing his Skittles with chewing out one half of his upcoming opposition, “Like I said before the last match, when it comes to his ability inside the ring, there's no doubt that Cosmo’s operating at the very top of the EWC totem pole. I mean, I know we were just clowning on him for his defeats but, like he himself said in the run-up to popping Justin Paige's head off back in Delhi, his losses always look that much bigger of a deal than the average pickle because, to be honest, they've been impressively infrequent across a career that's still not even a full year old yet!
I s’pose I’d also be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the fact that, at least in terms of singles competition, he's had my number on at least a couple of occasions now.”
“The last of which had him needing to count on a Discotechnicality of his own,” Verana argues.
“Nice.”
“-and it’s not like it ended up on either of your records, officially-speaking.”
“It still happened, though - and, given that we all know Cosmo’s gonna lord that Party over me at least until I manage to tip the balance in our own direction, there's no point in trying to ignore it…just as there's no point in Cosmo trying to ignore the fact that his aura’s no longer anywhere near as invincible as it once appeared. He may still be the United States Champion; he may be tied with our main gal SalTal and a one behind the lad who's pitching to snatch his ‘Greatest Rookie' glitterball when it comes to wins this season-”
“Who?”
“The Lad.”
“Which lad?”
“Stop it,” Pablo chuckles, desperately trying to keep his train of thought on track, “Point is, all of that doesn't change the fact that Cosmo's also already lost all but one as many matches this year as he did across the whole of 2023…and I think it's showing.
Don't get me wrong, I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’ll tell you he's always been a 24K croc-sucker-”
“Wow.”
“-but let's not forget, he did shake my hand once the House Party was over. He did show me respect that night; certainly more respect than he’s shown the likes of Mercenary, Vin Havoc or Captain Morgan in recent weeks! Something's kick-started a cognitive corruption of Cosmo’s combative cortices…made him grow more desperate, more willing to increase the viciousness and shorten the cuts he feels he needs to take to keep his momentum kicking and screaming in the right direction - and I dunno if it's Graves getting increasingly in his ear, him falling a fraction short in that Fighting Spirit showdown with Havoc, or just the pressure of trying to prove he's still the House’s Golden Grouse but, what I do know is that, if the cause is a little obscure, the implication’s blindingly obvious: as good as Cosmo Goldworthy is; as masterful at his craft and as meticulous in his preparations as he may be, the second those plans stop panning out as perfectly as he’d…y’know, planned - whether through miscommunication or the malevolent intervention of a formerly wronged roster member - it often doesn't take too long for Cosmo to find his Cash Cow thoroughly cooked…and that's the angle that we can take to confirm our coming out on top of this triple-threat on Monday night.”
The Tecnico tosses another fistful of Skittles into his mouth, a little extra pep in his step as he prepares to speak a little strategy.
“See, I’m sure Cosmo’s coming into this confrontation fully expecting Narumi and I to pull the classic ‘take out the enemy and then, ‘Saikō no joshi ga kachimasu yō ni,’ y’know? ‘May the best ‘Joshi win.’
On paper, it's the smart play, but-”
“But when have you ever done things the smart way?” Verana smirks.
“-but how often does it work in practice?” Pablo retorts, a playful scowl directed at his younger cousin, “More often than not, it actually gives the odd croc out an excuse to hang out on the sidelines and recuperate, waiting for the other two to wear each other down before swooping in to snatch it at the death.
So…what if we throw a little Discotecnicoloured spanner in the works?
What if the bell rings…Cosmo’s standing there, across the ring, fully Ready to Die-ve in and run the gauntlet against the two of us when WHAM!!! We Paint the unsuspecting Face of our Onihime, take her out of the equation right off the bat, and then it's off to the races!”
“A race to which Cosmo turned up wearing running spikes, only to find they’ve been immediately switched out to snow shoes,” Verana says with a nod.
“Chaos theory in action, baby! Or should I say, Shinijo-shock and awe?” Pablo grins, “either way, yeah; you hit a move like that, and you immediately throw Cosmo off his game; force him to fight not only his two opponents, but the sudden and dramatic deviation away from how he envisioned that fight going to the Rainbowlutionary reality with which he now finds himself confronted…just as he was against Vin Havoc…against Morgan Darkwater, the Silent Discotecnicos and at WarGames and, this time…when the best laid schemes o’ Gold Mines an’ men once more gang a-gley…it'll be the Rainbowlution that leaves him lying in dismay.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan to me,” says Verana, though with her expression tinged by a hint of caution as Pablo takes another, triumphant, swig from the Skittles packet, “but, what about Narumi? Surely you're not expecting her just to be a bystander in all of this?”
“Speaking of people that’ve had my number,” Pablo smirks, “Y’know, it's kinda crazy that this’ll be the first time she and I have shared a ring since World Wide last year. I mean, I know we were on different brands but, even so…”
He sighs, his voice trailing off for a moment as his thoughts drift back to that aforementioned encounter.
“Pompeii was supposed to be my crowning moment…the night I finally completed the fable that Melody Malone shattered into a thousand chest-piercing pieces at WrestleFest XX and became the EWC Undisputed Champion!” he continues, “Instead, it wound up being…well, my Pompeii - and, look, I hold no ill will towards Narumi for defeating me that night - she had her own story to tell, after all - but, even so, I’d be lying if I said I hadn't taken a little piece of that encounter with me everywhere I've been since, and not just because it took forever to get the taste of her boot sole outta my mouth!”
He chuckles, rubbing his chin as though experiencing a bout of phantom Paymon pain.
“World Wide V’ll forever be the show that could've been - and it's also, therefore, the show that inspires me to make sure ‘it’ will be in the future,” he proclaims, “Every match since then…every moment…it's all been a part of me building myself back up…re-stoking the fires of this Rainbowlutionary rocket ship and working to ensure I get the opportunity to shoot for that golden stratosphere once again!
In a little over two weeks’ time, at StrangleMania XIX, I get the chance to take my surest step yet towards that goal by snatching the International Championship from JoJo Rush’s beastly fingers - in another triple-threat match, as chaos would have it! - and, while this match on Monday may have a little less lumber jackin’ it on the outside - all due respect to Dimitri Graves - it nonetheless represents a perfect opportunity to keep our momentum going…to Shinijo-show Stitches and the Stormbringer that all the beatings and all the bloodletting only makes our colours more vivid…our fire more irrepressible…our hyperfocus more unbreakable - and that, unfortunately, means I have to literally settle the score with my fellow Most Beloved Wrestler of 2023!
I know first-hand how powerful a competitor Narumi Tsutsumi is - even more so now I've had the honour of working out and training with her…but I’m also acutely aware that, while she may have only lost a Melody Malone’s fistful of fights over the last couple of years, half of those losses have come against opponents of a high-flying persuasion. Callie Clark snatched that Prime Minister necklace from around her neck at the Prime Season Finale, and she also fell to a freshly re-sweetened Candy Crusher back in Cleveland a month or so ago…so if I can get a little aerial momentum going; get those winds of chaos really whirling beneath my Rainbowlutionary wings-”
“Easy for you to say.”
“-then there's every chance we might be able to keep this unbeaten Brawl record rolling just a little while longer,” Pablo smirks. “Eight fights…seven wins…an X-Division draw with Dio away from carrying a pristine sweep - and yeah, that's a bit of a gratuitous brag but, you know what? As we prepare to face the Housemate of a guy with whom we’ll soon be doing battle for one of the biggest prizes in the business; a guy who’s spent the last few months proclaiming himself to be the so-called ‘Light of Monday Nights’...it actually seems pretty pertinent…because, on April 8th - LIVE from the Independence Stadium in Shreveport, Louisiana! - after two of the Shinijoshi’s most charismatic compadres have combined to croc the malicious ambitions of the House’s Golden Gator…after those same two Chīmumeito have then treated the people of the Pelican State to a dizzying, dazzling demonstration of Shini-just what the EWC’s premiere stable stands for…the Rainbowlution is gonna leave everybody - friends, foes, fans and Alligatoridae family members alike - in no doubt that the real light of Monday nights…is Discotecnicoloured.
Nijiiro no kakumei banzai.
Viva la Rainbowlution."
As the Tecnico tosses a final theatrical dose of Skittles into his mouth, the camera begins to pull back, drifting skywards as the Volandos continue on their determined stroll towards the horizon.
Towards Brawl #608.
Towards history.
“So, you said ‘croc’ a whole bunch of times in all that,” says Verana to Pablo, “you do know they’re not the same animal, right?”
“Don't be a hater, ‘gator,’” comes the Tecnico's reply.
“...Awful.”
The scene fades to black.
**NOTE** Amber Lisa used with permission from the handler, OBVS.
