I told you I would stay

Yeah, I feel you rubbing your fucking dirty hands all over your eyes and your face in those slow circles, like it helps.

Well guess what, you little backstabber, hiding things from me and compromising everything I built for you over a year-plus turned around and bit us in the ass. You wonder why I never gave you back control of the ship after you blew it in your first 5 Star title defense? You child?

You manservant?

I guess the polite way to put it is that you have a “spotty track record” when it comes to decision-making. The accurate and correct way to put it is, YOU blew this. YOU blew this “era” whose moment you thought you defined at Colossus.

Not me. I’ve been perfect.

Oh, what? You know it’s true. We’d still control the Universal Championship if I had full awareness of the leaks in our boat. If you’re going to try to make a point about a good carpenter not blaming his tools when it comes to me and you, understand that I think there’s a difference between “I have to use a less good hammer than the hammer I wanted to use” versus “I have to drive a blubbering and spoiled malcontent who just wants to be loved and do his mommy proud instead of the soulless unstoppable death-machine Phil Atken promised I’d be driving”. Hard to win the French Grand Prix when the car hides the fact that its fourth wheel is a lil’ bimch.

Unbelievable.

And now look at what's coming down the pipe. Another one of these ReVolution-era jackalopes who see how great the modern PRIME has become, largely thanks to the work we’ve done (honestly, I’VE done, but you’re the kind of poodle that needs carrots with their sticks, so - sure, you were part of this too), and who’s come back because they want another taste of their glory days at our expense.

Look at what that Hessian dick pulled at Colossus, right - he didn’t have a single damn intention of challenging you to a match, or Ivan for that matter, he just wanted to be the final lasting image of the greatest Pay Per View event of the modern wrestling era whether it was his moment or not. “I am the him that is here now” was the final headline - and PRIME itself is on the hook for allowing that to happen, by the way. They could’ve had him say “yay I’m back wrasslin’ and look at my scary beard” whenever, it could have been a splash graphic during a commercial break, but instead PRIME’s higher ups interrupted YOUR moment because at the end of the day they’re just as greedy and obsessed with the past as Hessian. Shows how much they value you.

Or, hey, OR, look at what that Jason Snow dick pulled last ReVival - same gameplan, different crusty relic from the old days that wants to take what’s yours. Spooked the hell out of some of the boys in the back who apparently think that the little training wall from 2009 is ANYTHING like the damn Multi-Everest Death Climb that PRIME is now in 2024 - and that’s troubling to me, FLAMBERGE. I don’t care for these pub trivia answers coming back out of the woodwork, and I don’t care for the reverence they’re being given. They’re going to keep getting that reverence too as long as everyone else around here lowers their standards.

But say what you will about Hessian and Snow - and I have, and I will again - at least those guys were Universal Champions. They’re greedy, they’re would-be tyrants, they’re spotlight hogs, sure. They’re the finest analog players entering a post-digital world who will probably get by on reputation alone for a long time, but one thing I get, and you get it now too now that you’ve forced us into this position with your dumb ass - when you’ve been the top champion of the top wrestling promotion in the world, all you want to do is be there again. It’s going to consume you, FLAMBERGE, I’m going to make sure of it.

Bryan Dawkins, is a different issue. He was never a champion here - any sort of champion. You’re a Triple Crown Champion. He was never on top of a fucking pineapple tree, let alone scraping the edge of the atmosphere. He can’t possibly understand the heights you’ve reached, the level of potential you’ve already untapped to become the top wrestler in the world, what it means to be the Ace of a promotion with more heights to climb once you’ve worked out the “kinks” you hid from me. I can’t even pretend to understand what he’s doing back here.

And you know what? As a matter of principle, I refuse to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s nefarious, whatever it is he’s doing, and frankly it’s selfish.

He knocks on the door he closed for himself after years of being God knows where and somehow, after a big load of Didn’t Factor In The Finish in his re-debut, he’s granted back to back matches with Universal Champions of the era that matters, the ReVival era, which should be held as prized positions of honor for wrestlers who have busted their asses and climbed up the rankings accordingly.

Maybe he’s got really good weed, or something, and that was enough. Might be for me, if I’m being honest. Driving your broken-ass ship stresses me OUT.

So listen. You get it. As stupid the decisions you make on a regular basis are, you know the threat Bryan Dawkins represents. If someone with “former” in their nickname can trip over themselves into a match with the Lizard King and he leaves Boston with his neck uncollected…it’s not just a stain on you. It’s a stain on this fucking era of PRIME. Irreparable harm will be done, and frankly, I wouldn’t know where you go from there.

So like. Bury the olds, the olds, et cetera et cetera.

Your job is to eat them alive, in case you’ve forgotten - I would prefer by now to not have to hold your hand on this matter, but given how it all shook out with Jared Sykes I think it’s time for some reminders, “bruh”.

…

…….

There was a hiccup there. Julien, you better fucking not. Where are you? I can tell you’re going somewhere, but you’re trying to hide the damn destination again.

God damnit. Well. The Trust Tree is still there and waiting for you, Julien - it’s on you to show me that you’re still worthy of all this effort and energy I’ve spent towards making you fully cold-blooded and reptilian. I guess I’m along for the ride. Again.

I hate this.

Is it somewhere I know, at least? Or are you going somewhere far and dumb?

Good, ok, it’s local. I know you’re in Vegas right now. I know you’ve been a sad sack in your shitty little flat, packing your little teal bags for the trip to Boston that’s followed immediately by another overseas flight for Culture Shock and all the fun of WAR GAMES.

At least when you’re in Europe you’ll be supervised this time.

I thought I heard something - that Cecilworth has another stop planned in between Boston and Culture Shock…where’s that happening? Has he told you? He doesn’t tell you much now, does he? Won’t talk to you about his problems, even though he’s drinking himself into one of several different types of coma at once. Won’t talk to you about all the crap he’s muttering about Max Kael, even though Max now holds a championship you elevated to the main event of Colossus. Seems like Cecilworth’s the sensitive enough guy to know that you might have some thoughts about that.

Didn’t tell you about what he did to Phil.

At least Hank’s a good egg.

…

Maybe whatever this extra stop is, it’ll be fun. It doesn’t seem like you’re going to any of Vegas’s fun places, though. Real bummer. You’re kind of lame, which would normally be a good thing for me, but given that you may be trying to burn down this boat from the inside I would hope to go out with some sort of “bang” if that were possible.

Oh right, I’m supposed to be giving you the benefit of the doubt - sorry. You’re definitely on your way to water the Trust Tree. You’re definitely not going anywhere counterproductive to everything I’ve been harping on since 2022.

Anyway. Listen, you know what? You’re right, the Trust Tree goes both ways. I guess it’s only fair that I confess something to you.

I, uh…didn’t take losing well. No, I know I know, that’s not the confession, it’s not a surprise, and thank the lord that you haven’t taken it well either. No, the thing is, when I’m in that kind of mood, I can, well…”impact” things.

I’m a vibe, in the end. I latch onto things. I permeate the structures of What Is Currently A Useless Instrument and I turn it into Something Better If Darker, which, yeah, “darker” sounds bad, but your job is to fight people until you make them unable to fight anymore, so let’s take a chill pill about the false dichotomy of “dark” being a good or a bad thing…point is, I have a way of causing sympathy vibes.

You’ve had people in your life that you would call a friend, and you know how it can be when they’re in a bad mood - it can infect a room, and suddenly everything feels off, you know? A harmless piece of art can suddenly feel like an insult, or the room’s temperature is now just a little too hot or a little too cold even if it was perfectly fine before the mood swept through the space?

So like, I won’t go into the details, but…yeah. PRIME’s vending machines are becoming echoes of this whole…thing. It’s kind of your fault, by the way - you’re the one who decided to emerge from one when you had your big face-to-face moment with Stanislav, and so you tied all mentions and references of “vending machines” into something about you - and so…people who are sensitive to you, who may even call you their friend (or at least their work acquaintance) are going to feel that resonant seething malcontent.

It’s weird, I know, and you don’t need to worry about losing any brand deals or whatever - this is purely the human tendency to try to associate human meaning out of inanimate bullshit whenever they can, so they see a vending machine with a beret, they think of you, they think of the doom spiral you’re feeling right now, and they’re going to catch a pit in their stomach they can’t quite explain.

It’s fun for me, because I get to do some AOE damage to PRIME as a whole this way - it’s fun for you, because the more people that get caught in your passive blast radius, the more necks you collect in the long run. It’s symbiosis. It furthers the mission. “I associate this object with a man I’m thinking about who scares the shit out of me and who is also in a volatile state and so this object gives me a dose of existential dread” - it’s really pretty tasteful, in my opinion. I do it for you.

WHEW BOY, does it feel good to get the whole “VENDBERGE” thing off my chest…wait. Were you even aware that was a thing? Look, even if you weren’t, I swear it fucked with some people - I was hoping especially to see if, as a favor to you, it could jostle something out of RIA. You remember RIA, right? The first wrestler you ever defeated in PRIME way back when, who then cucked you out of some imaginary love story you never acted on with Sid Phillips? It’s hard to tell if it worked very well with her, but hey - I tried.

Say anything you want about me, but I sure try.

So now it’s your turn. Where are we going?

…

…I’m waiting, FLAMBERGE. Are you going to meet me halfway with this thing or not?

Cool, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. APPRECIATE THE TRUST.

You’re going to let a happy-go-lucky little pineapple man embarrass the Glueminati in front of everyone if you keep acting this way, you realize that don’t you? Phil Atken did not force Brandon Youngblood to choke on his own bodily fluids for you to have a hissy fit about how you communicate with me. We had a really REALLY good thing going, in case you’ve already forgotten - who in the world has a shot of winning more consecutive matches in PRIME anymore, especially as the mountain grows taller and taller every show? I mean, for crying out loud, FLAMBERGE, you’re not even 24 yet - maybe that’s the thing. Maybe you’re too young and entitled to understand just how significant the things you’ve done really are.

Do you understand why Brandon Youngblood is such a pissed off ogre in his 40’s? Do you understand why Jared Sykes finally winning The Big One was such a big deal to him, IN HIS 40’s? Do you understand why Bryan Dawkins might want to squeeze whatever’s left of his talent and athleticism he’s still got inside of him into one last “fuck you” run at your expense before he becomes a bald old fuck or, worse, has to dye his grays bright pinkish purplish to cling to his bygone youth?

God. Phil Atken really is a saint for putting his faith in a child like you, who’s known too much success to really understand how bad it can get for the majority of people, not just in wrestling, but in general.

There’s just one Mbappé. There’s just one Zidane. There COULD be, SHOULD be, MAY be just one FLAMBERGE. You’ve already done more in two years than most athletes will ever accomplish for their entire lives, and that’s considering that at least 99% of people who dream of becoming professional athletes will never get to the level of being paid.

You have the juice to be That Dude. You’re already an ace - you could be THE ace, and not just because it’s text on a screen in an arena, but because you are truly capable of professional wrestling creation in a way that has never been done before. You could bring this sport forward kicking and screaming into the future. You can go into WARGAMES and collect a dozen necks easily, a second dozen to pair with the first that took so much work to assemble.

And yet you pout. The little gecko thinks he knows best, and he sabotages the process so carefully constructed for him.

For the love of god, I’m TRYING TO PAVE THE ROAD FOR YOU. I’M SMOOTHING THE POTHOLES OVER, FLAMBO, AS YOU KEEP ON DIGGING THEM UP AHEAD OF ME. THERE WOULD BE NO BUMPS IN THIS ROAD IF YOU JUST GREW THE FUCK UP, STOPPED WITH THE QUESTIONS, AND JUST LET THIS HAPPEN.

I don’t know what it is, man. Youth is wasted on you. Maybe it’s all moving too fast for you, maybe you didn’t know enough success as a child and you’re using that as an excuse to fight against our ultimate success in your adulthood.

Maybe it’s your general horndoggy lust that’s the problem. It used to manifest in such fun and cheeky ways, but now…now it’s just a bummer. Jordan imploded before it even started, Sid’s chosen someone who is so the complete opposite of you that it HAS to be a “fuck you, specifically, FLAMBERGE” - and now, what. Nothing? It’s just Divining Rodding it out here, hoping it’ll point you to something soft?

Could be, could be. Or, you know. And I hate to keep harping on this, but fuck it, you’ve got me really mad now with how you’re acting. Maybe it’s the zombie bite you hid through the end of 2023, visiting your mom - and worst of all - placing emotional stakes ANYWHERE external when I gave explicit instructions to keep them all internal, under our shared (SHARED, Julien) supervision…and not just like, LITTLE emotional stakes. You went all in on a family concern.

It’s just.

I wish I could see Phil Atken right now, I can just imagine how disappointing this whole thing all turned out to be. What is more antithetical to the ideas and pursuits that Glue means to you than Jared Sykes being the one to take your L’Uni? Maybe like…Cancer Jiles getting another go, that’s the only one that springs to mind.

And it’s all because of you and your bad choices. You hid this nugget of your heart from me until it became too late for me to organize it with all your other bullshit properly, and it meant your chokes wouldn’t wrench like they should against “From What You Can Tell, Probably A Good Person” Jared Sykes. The tools to collect got the wrong sort of input. You were conscious of yourself on television, of who may be watching you - if not now, then in the future (and, worse, in perpetuity), and the weapon you needed to be started to do something no weapon should - it thought.

And instead of slicing like a flaming sword through butter, the hesitation tick tick ticked in, and your end-all be-all of chokes could be reversed into Oppressively Painful Finishing Maneuvers.

But hey, your mom’s probably still proud of you for some reason.

Assuming she’s actually well.

I mean, it’s probably genetic, right? The tendency to hide critical facts from those who need to know those facts the most? Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she lied about how well she was doing. It’s not like you were seeing her all that often in recent years (and blame your father all you want, you had two feet and some cash); for all we know, the Julia Lavigne you saw in Marseilles last fall was the first of her circles down the drain-

Shut the fuck up.

…

……….

…exCUSE me?

I said shut the fuck up. I’m so tired. Enough.

Do my ears deceive me, or is that actually the voice of Julien Lavigne?? Well WELCOME TO THE SHOW, JULIEN, SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE NOW!

You’re not right all the time, I know you’re not. You’re vicious and evil and terrifying, and that’s worth plenty…I think you know you’re not right all the time either. You’re just very convincing.

Well, kid, it’s very easy to be convincing when I have stacks on stacks of empirical evidence. I told you I would stay. Just like yesterday, I told you I would stay - and I’ve foregone the hope that you would “always”, but -  maybe sometimes, make it easy?

…take your time. Take your time, FLAMBO.

…momentary phase.

…what are you doing? Wait, no. FLAMBO - FLAMBERGE. JULIEN LAVIGNE, listen to me, this can’t be what you’re doing right now. What does that sign say? WHAT DOES THAT SIGN SAY??

WELLMIND CLINIC

no no NO NO NO no no no, we talked about this, this is not the thing we DO, this is not what brought us to our great heights - you listen to ME, you understand? You do what I tell you, what PHIL would want you to do…

…

……….

…………………..Julien?

Are you there?