For the Bandits

The Calm Before

“The hunt draws near. I hope we’re ready. I hope I am ready. I hope they believe in me, like I do in them. Even that fuckhead Fuse...... oh my Zeus, what have I done? Courage, Cancer. Courage for your brethren.” -- Jiles’ Journal, March 15th, 2025

Tonight is the night it all happens and we’re moments away from it all happening.

The sun is about to rise on a new day for the eGG Bandits.

Day One.

That means it’s currently Night Two of Culture Shock and I, we, the eGG Bandits, are inside the Tokyo Dome going over some final preparations. We're all squeezed into the carton. We're already dressed for battle. We know what is at stake, and why we’re here.

For Coral.

“Bring it in, boys.”

My confidence brims. My smile is genuine. My tone of voice is as sincere as it will ever get.

“While Vick’s out there guarding the door, I got a few things I want to say before we shock absolutely no one and win this whole fucking thing.”

Ha.

Big Hess takes a knee, and somehow he’s still a whole foot taller than Two Books who is standing next to him. However, unimaginably so or not really a shark jump, you can decide, both of their sizes pale in comparison to the sheer girth, width, and girth of the fabled Honaleean, Robert Dean. He’s sitting down, but a more apt way of putting it would be carefully positioned across multiple chairs.

Oh, and there’s some video game kid with a black bag over his head.

Nerd.

Ranks formed, Bandits in line, I gaze into the souls of my equals. I do not see hesitation in their eyes. No, I see determination. I see a willingness to put it all on the line for each other, and in the name of our former Captain. Most importantly, I’m able to find strength in their conviction and fear no darkness.

“My brothers of the yolk and shell... thank you for this. I mean that. I really do. I was worried I might owe all of you a debt I could not repay, but looking into your eyes just now that worry is gone.”

A tear rolls down the cheek of the Beautiful Bandit.

“Make no mistake about it, this is ours to win. This is ours for the taking.”

Collective nodding in agreement ensues.

“We have a plan. It’s meticulous. It involves a lot of moving parts. It has to go just right, and chances are by the end of it we’ll have suffered through what will undoubtedly be an excruciating amount of pain and suffering. BUT, that’s okay because we also have each other, and we know when the final bell rings the juice will have been worth the squeeze.”

I reach out and place a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Okay, so I bent down first.

“It all starts with you, Tony. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you don’t send a monster to hunt an elephant; you send a mouse. Which means you my friend, you have the mighty task of going out there before any of us and setting the tone. I know you can, and moreover I know that you will.”

For as short, and as meager, and as passed by as Tony Gamble is, you’d never know it. The guy always has a smile on his face. Even now, after telling him certain doom awaits, he's all smiles. I think it might have something to do with him getting an opportunity to prove his worth.

Little does he know he already has.

I remove my hand from Tony’s shoulder, and then take a step up on one of his telephone books to place my hand on Hessian’s.

“Big Hess. Ian. My shovel. I need you sharp tonight. I need you strong. I need you steadfast, and remorseless. I need you to be a relentless, never ending, Murder Show Express. Most of all, I need you ready to dig."

Deep.

My hellacious machine of destruction does not blink. He does not move. He does not grunt, or rip the other one of Tony’s telephone books in half. He doesn’t have to, either. I know that he’s ready. I’ve been preparing him for such a moment since we paid our respects to a fallen jet ski.

“That said, and as silly as it sounds, especially taking Tony’s gamble into account, but I am going to jeopardize your career and well being probably more so than anybody else’s tonight.”

Debatable.

I don’t plan on apologizing for it, either.

No debating that.

“I tell you this not as a warning, or to scare you. I tell you this to motivate you past the pinnacle. To put it in the back of your head so that when things don’t look good, and there will come a time when they don’t, you hear my words and know that I am with you. We are with you. You are not alone.”

Though I really tried, especially at the end there, I still didn't crack him; and all of a sudden I feel a little bit sorrier for all those standing in our way. I remove my hand from Hessian’s shoulder, step down from Tony's telephone book, and turn my attention to the most beautiful man I know.

“Bobby, everyone is going to think you’re at catering, so don’t go there. Stay out of the stalls, too. That’s where I would go to look for you. Oh, and whatever you do, no matter what stay far the fuck away from Farthington.”

Robert nods, and just by the way he does I can tell he’s going straight to catering. Before moving on I wait the full six days it seemingly takes for him to stand, embrace him, and gently kiss him on the forehead for good luck.

“Last but not least... oh shit. Sorry bud. It’s safe now. You don’t need that anymore.”

Since Bobby certainly isn’t going to get up and remove the bag, and Tony most likely can’t reach it, and, well, Hessian might accidentally pop a head like a pimple, I take it upon myself to help a brethren out.

Nice Captain.

Not like that other guy.

“There ya go.”

My ace in the hole, my nemesis from yesteryear, my fellow eGG Bandit blurts out a blitzkrieg of words that simply make no sense. It's absolute gibberish. It’s like a bad translation of an overseas video game. It's to be expected I suppose, seeing as we've been confined to the carton for over an hour now. We had to get here early to sneak him in. I probably could have told him it was safe once we entered the carton, but oh well. I’ll still sleep good regardless.

Poor kid.

“Good thing I didn’t bring you aboard to talk.”

After finishing the words under my breath, followed by a snort and a chuckle, the tone gets reset. I make sure of it by removing my T-shades. Then, I reach out and place my hand on Conor’s shoulder.

COOLOSSUS SZN STARTS EARLY.

“I know we’ve had our problems in the past, pretty much you just being a thorn in my side and getting pimple puss on me whenever we would wrestle, but that’s behind us now, Conor. Bygones are bygones. You are a Bandit, and we need your help.”

Conor's eyes light up like the Red Ring of Death. There he is. There’s the man who beat me back at PWA 2.

Shao Kahn.

“I know it might seem like I’m throwing you to the wolves here, but I also know you're always seeking to test yourself. To push the limit. It won't get much tougher than this, I promise."

It looks like Conor wants to talk again, but since he’ll probably mumble in Hideo and ruin the moment I hold a hand out to let him know it’s okay, and that he doesn’t have to. Yes, the hand I used was holding the same black bag that was concealing his identity for the past hour. No, I didn’t mean it as a threat, even if that’s what it looked like.

Swear.

"This is your chance to do the unthinkable and to be a part of something eggstraordinary.”

Before I can continue on with my rally cry, I’m cut off by Vince Howard of all people. Well, his voice anyway. It rings throughout the Tokyo Dome like a dinner bell. The tension quickly rises. The anticipation crescendos. The pomp circumstances.

The Manhunt has begun.

I pinch the right cheek on Conor’s face, then shift my attention back to the man of the hour.

“Tony, you’re up. There is a reason Bobby and I picked you up off that entrance ramp way back when, and this is it. Prove us right and give them absolute hell. Remember, we regroup at the twenty minute mark, and listen for the musical cue if you lose track of time.”

The Grin takes a few fearless steps towards the door before coming to a screeching halt. He quickly turns back and asks with a look of confusion covering his face, “Wait. What happened to the ten minute mark?”

Ha.

Change of plans.

Fashionably fresh.

---

The Ivory Tower “Now the feast can begin.” -- Jiles’ Journal, March 26th, 2025

There I am.

Atop my throne.

Comfortably.

Well, maybe not so much.

See, I’m still wearing my wounds from the hunt.

Proudly.

My face is bruised, blemished, blued, and blackened. My whole body feels like it’s been hit by a meteor. My head rings like a car alarm. I have bandages here, there, and everywhere. I got ice packs for when I try to fall asleep at night, and pain medicine for when I wake up shaking like a leaf.

I know what you’re thinking...

Are T-shades really priceless?

...just go into cryo and come out looking like a million bucks. Well, I tried that. I was inside cryo for three days. Max settings, too. UltraCOOL. AND I’M STILL FUCKED UP. I don’t know if Coral did something to it before he left, like bumped into it with his gigantic forehead, but I do know he’s not around for me to ask, nor has he responded to any of my texts regarding the matter. I have been signing off on said texts as “Captain Manhunter” so that might have something to do with it.

Possible.

Regardless, here's to hoping I'm feeling a little bit better come Friday night. Lucky for me my opponent isn't a picture of health, either.

Does a body good.

Don't fret, it’s not all bad news for King COOL. I did find a reason to wear my old blazer again that Coral gifted me. Granted, I've made a few alterations. Bye-bye sleeves, hello funeral-black-bear fur boa. You might say it’s been glued on to the forever popped collar. Stitched in the back of the jacket in yolk yellow, the number one, and the name above the number, also stitched in yolk yellow: KRANCER

Eat your heart out, Barvel.

And boy do I look good in it; pairs perfectly with the T-shades and alfredo simmer.

Lights.

The Hunter.

Action~!

“Miracle Man.”

I glance over at Vickie who is off screen wearing my championship, and only my championship.

“Scheming Stevie DILLIGAF.”

It’s an acronym.

“The only person to Best me during the hunt.”

Ha.

“Ye old friend of mine.”

Steve and I go way back. We briefly DREAMed together. We rolled around in a PIT together; winning championship gold on more than one occasion. Shit, he’s even been aboard the USS Bandit a few times. Obviously the ship went by a different name during his tour of duty, but still, he’s walked those halls.

Now, Steve’s in PRIME, and his sights are set on the only thing Vickie is wearing.

“Well, we’re not in Chicago anymore, are we, Harrywood?”

I chuckle.

“No, we sure aren’t.”

The nostalgia is real.

“I have to say, I don’t miss the place. Not even a little bit. I know, that’s not too surprising with what I’ve been able to accomplish here, being a Hall of Famer and everything, but for you, someone who hasn’t even been in a MAIN EVENT yet, I don’t know.”

Another newb.

Fuse is rubbing off it seems.

Oh no.

“Maybe the feeling is different.”

I smirk, yet can’t help but to think that maybe me and the 5-Star championship are destined to be tied to MAIN EVENT virgins for the rest of time.

Next up, Noah Hanson.

“Even then, I would still safely assume that you like it here more than there. I mean, I know you’re not a total idiot and have some semblance of common sense. We were teammates.”

Best Buds.

Ha.

“Then again, I have been wrong before.”

...but not about MANHUNT.

“I know Bobby says he likes it here more. He says the food is better, there’s more of it, and it doesn’t cut up his insides like the poisonous shards of broken glass they served on the Chaos buffet line. Personally, I was always more of a rusty nail kind of guy if I’m being honest.”

Not the drink.

I digress.

“I guess what I’m getting at is do you prefer spoiled 97 percent or genuine whole?"

Ha.

"Not that I would care one way or the other. Not anymore. I got a new team now, one that will go out on their shield for me, and I them. One whose honor I will defend until I’m no longer COOL. One I’ve been to War with. One I respect and have faith in.”

To be fair, Steve and I did go to War together.

“You even bested another one of us not too long ago.”

For Hessian.

“That’s right, Scorpion Steve, you tried to take out my murder shovel... tried to turn him into a crippled spade of the garden variety. Now, I don’t blame you for your course of action. He is a monster after all, and you did what you had to do in order to survive. So, bravo to that. Still, he’s my shovel, and moreover the did you see what he just dig for me?”

I meant to say did, but somehow dig came out.

Shovels on the mind.

“Shit, if a Captain can’t avenge his brethren, what good is he?”

I shrug. Tough spot for Steve to be in. He’s owed for Big Hess, and... well, he’s owed again for old times sake. Plus, he’s also a cheat, like me, and I’m extra brutal towards those who tread on my page of Tony’s telephone book. Not to mention, Vickie will put my nuts in a ringer if I lose her favorite accessory.

Total Eggsecution scenario.

“The answer is not good at all, which, as fate would have it, also happens to be your chances of winning when we stand across the ring from each other in MY RECORD TYING SIXTEENTH MAIN EVENT at ReVival 65.”

Sweet Sixteen.

Ha.

“You heard right, Steve. That means don’t be expecting any favors or a G’odd Couple discount. I’m not going to take it lightly on you, nor will I be taking you lightly."

A beat.

"I know just how spoiled you can be, old friend of mine. That said, you know just how rotten I am, so when I say prepare yourself Miracle Man, and that you’re going to need one if you wish to avoid the wrath of my sleeping salts, you know I mean it.”

Pucker.

Kiss.

Goodbye.

---

For The Bandits “The hunt is over. Victory is ours. It came at a cost, but pain is only temporary. Glory lasts forever.” -- Jiles’ Journal, March 16th, 2025

The show is over. Culture Shock, Night Two, has come to a thrilling close. Blood has been spilt. Bones have been broken. Livers have been lacerated. Ligaments have been torn. Tears have been shed. Joints have been sprained and separated. Will, and grit, and mettle, and courage, and bravery have been tested beyond the brink.

The shell though, we did not crack and now a Bandit reigns supreme.

It took a group effort.

It took a perfectly eggsecuted plan.

Turns out sneaking in a ringer, deploying Tony early, showing up fashionably late/fresh, and ultimately wearing Hessian as a shield equates to a perfectly eggsecuted plan.

It took everything we had, but we did it.

MANHUNT belongs to the Bandits.

Oh, and I’m not joking about it taking everything we had; just look at us and you’ll know. We’re one, giant, beautiful, exasperated, exhausted, throbbing, partially smiling, bloody mess. We won’t be right for weeks, maybe months, maybe years, maybe ever.

My career has been shortened considerably. The alfredo could be stained. The hairline is in real jeopardy. I’ve been in tremendous amounts of pain before, and tomorrow, when the adrenaline has worn off and every nerve ending I have is firing like it’s The Fourth of July, I’ll see if this latest romp takes the cake. For now though, I’ll take laying motionless on the floor inside the carton, being able to barely breathe, and surrounded by my brethren.

Tony is leaning against the wall, and already so swollen he appears to have grown an inch. Hessian is standing by the door, and is even scarier bathed in blood. I bet he catches something though because most of it is not his. Fuse, that fuck. He’s laid out next to me. His pimples are gone, and now he’s got a hemorrhage doubling as a pencil thin. Bobby... seated across multiple chairs of course, even after defying my orders still didn’t fuck it up. Not too badly anyway.

No wonder Coral snubbed him back at War Games.

If I had the energy to speak I’d say to all of them from the very bottom of my heart, “For the Bandits.” Instead, it’s Hessian who does so. Then one by one... Conor, Tony, and Bobby all follow suit. I try to move. I want to move, but it turns out only one thing still works. Lets just say it’s a good that I’m laying face down, and that Vickie will be happy no matter what condition I am in later on tonight.

Ha.

Regardless, we did it.

We. Fucking. Did. It.

The Bandits.

We said we would, and we did.

For Coral.

I know he’d be proud.

I know he is proud.