Post by Phoenix Bah Gawd Winterborn on Apr 11, 2023 13:23:33 GMT -6
Phoenix Winterborn was sitting backstage, as the rest of the crew were leaving Stranglemania. It had been a long night for Phoenix. After losing the match to Chris Page, he had vowed revenge on Page and Dominic Sanders for the embarrassment. But…he had no idea admittedly how he was going to do it. All he knew is that he was going in blind. Phoenix was used to having odds against him, but this would be different.
As he started packing up his things finally, there was a knock at the door. King Flip strode in, his suitcase trailing behind him.
“You’ve had a rough night, it seems.”
“No shit, Pun intended.”
Flip shook his head. “That was horrible, and you know it.”
“Yeah, it’s all I got right now. It’s been weird tonight, y’know? Just a lot going on outside of this…" he motions around the general area of EWC, "And then losing to Page…I don’t know, man. Twenty three isn’t starting off too hot.”
Flip coughs, his title almost falling off his shoulder. “I hear you.” He yanks on his tie a little, pulling his suitcase up to a stopping position and shoving the handle back in, before continuing. “I don’t know what Sanders is doing with that kid anyway. I just… I don’t know, I don’t see it?”
"That makes two of us. I mean, if he really wants back in the ring that bad, you'd think he would be able to, but what do I know? I just work here. Some would say not well, but I digress. I just want this last ride of sorts to be successful, but I can't even start that till I finish this, and after tonight? Man, I can't let this go."
He runs his hand through his hair before waving to a couple last random stage hands finishing up packing catering. Flip perks about midway through Winterborn’s spiel.
“Last ride. Are we getting that old already, brother?” Flip chummily elbows Phoenix. “I digress. Sanders, though I don’t know him, seems the type of man that has a lot of… importance that he feels he needs to sit on. He just retired if you’ll remember. Coming back now would make him look like Ric Flair, except poorer. He couldn’t possibly disrespect himself like that, you see.”
Flip stops for a moment, watching the stage hands scuttle along doing their business.
“But if he did… Phoenix, well, you know where to find me, hey?”
A second playful jab of the elbow from the King to the Phoenix.
“Flipper, this is a young kid’s game, we both know that. I mean, you maybe not. You’ve found the fountain of youth in that international gimmick. We both have been in the trenches for a long time, though. Sanders does seem Flair ish from what I can gather. Trying to live vicariously though Page, and when he gets bored, it’ll be ‘ha, just kidding. One hundred percent not retired. Until he retires again. That’s how I see it playing out, but…I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. I appreciate the offer, though. I’m gonna go wash my mouth out with some bleach at the hotel though. I should’ve bitten that pasty fuck to spite him, but he probably would’ve liked it too much.” They share a laugh as Phoenix pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck with the gimmick at Brawl against Ito.”
Flip nods. “Thanks. If tonight has taught us anything, it’s that King Flip was born to shit all over Paramount. I’ve got some receipts I’ve gotta cash in on what feels like that whole damn roster, so, I’ll need all the luck I can get my hands on.” The King begins to walk off, stopping at the doorway. “Just keep what I said in mind, man. The rest is just mono-syllabic nonsense.”
The door closes, leaving Phoenix's hand on the handle.
"Luck...yeah."
