Let's Get to Work, Bro

Jason Jackson steps into the elevator of the Blue Horizon Hotel in downtown Vancouver. His eyes drift around, noticing the pristine craftsmanship surrounding him. He scans for a single flaw for a few more seconds but fails to track any down. The doors close with a chime as his thoughts start to run wild yet again.

The hell am I doin’ in a place like this, man? This is where winners belong.

Thankful he’s on this lift alone, his eyes drop to the floor, looking to find some sort of solace in his current skid. Some careers never make it past this point so something’s gotta give to get things back on track.

Raffi puts us in these fancy joints, gives me a bonafide legend to learn from, but I can’t even answer the bell when it matters the most. The first time took everything, the last took even more…

Crash runs his hands through his hair, letting out a deep breath with closed eyes, and wipes his face free of the perpetual perspiration on his head since he set foot in PRIME. Looking for a way to break through but consistently coming up short.

How did I go from bro to joke? A fuckin’ Broker, dude.

The elevator doors open with another chime. His eyes come up to find Jacque and Broque LaRoque on the other side of the doors wearing huge shit-eating grins. It’s the first time they’ve seen Crash since he said he was takin’ a little trip back home.

“Ready to go to work, boys?”

That’s what we call it, right? The grind. The hard work, never say die spirit, and the dedication… all for the show, bro.

The meaty Canadians part, both taking a notice of Crash’s tone and what seems to be a change in demeanor. He stops just past them, looking back with a nod, and heads to the open doorway to the HOTDOGS suite. Inside waiting are both Greg Davis and Raffi Azarian, each sitting on opposite sides of the gathering area.

“Here is the main man now!”

Raffi stands sporting a business casual look while Greg remains in place. The elder grappler watches his young colleague enter the room with a newfound stride. One of focus but moreso a new calmness.

Fuckin’ serenity, bro.

🌭

Here I go again… on my own, bro.

Great song.

Even greater meaning.

Means that sometimes you’re gonna have to go it alone.

No friends or lovers.

Just the lessons in the past and present you’ve learned.

So when I get in there against RIA and Action ‘Bastian, I’ve gotta learn how to do this on my own.

Gold’s come in and got a win in his first match. RIA just held the belt I couldn’t get off Kerry’s waist. They’re not gonna be an easy return to action. Probably two of the toughest to do it against right now, to be honest.

I have no doubt that this will go down as one of the most positive matches of all time in PRIME.

I need it to be where I turn things around.

I need it to be where Crash came to life.

Beep beep, motherfucker.

🌭🌭

“Look, kid…”

Greg pauses. He glances to Raffi who gives him the nod to go forward with what appears to have been a pre discussed topic of conversation. He leans forward, forearms on his knees, and locks eyes with the Northern Light.

“Now that we’re all back together, I think it’s time to come up with a game plan. Fix the things that went wrong against Kerry and forget all about V-”

Crash cuts off his newfound mentor by standing to his feet yet maintaining eye contact. With a twitch of his wrist and wave of his finger, it’s enough action to let Greg know that he’s walking into dangerous territory.

“You don’t have to worry about that, old timer.”

Buffalo’s Finest takes a few silent steps toward the window. His eyes scan the city skyline under the afternoon sun. He keeps his back to the group but his focus doesn’t waiver.

“Truth is, my bros… I didn’t go home.”

All four heads turn toward Crash. His shallow breathing suggests whatever's about to come out of his mouth is gonna be something slightly serious.

But necessary, bro.

“I think, somewhere, I lost track of what was actually happening. I'll say it - all of this shit went to my head. I forgot what the goal is. And then it all fell down on top of me in a bad way.”

He turns back around, running his fingertips over the scar left by a screwdriver-wielding maniac, and looks each of his teammates in the eye.

“It's time to go back to work, boys."