FOR COUNTRY'S SAKE: THE YOLK OF WAR FEATURING THE BOUNTY BOYS

“Well it's been a problem for a while now, and it's time to deal with it.”

Olivia Henderson walks into the living room of her home to find her father on the phone.

“I know this isn't easy for you, so I'll take care of it soon. Trust me.”

Tony turns to see his daughter standing there, an awkward smile on her face.

“Hey dad.”

Gamble motions with his index finger for her to give him a moment.

“We'll talk about this more later, I have to go. Yeah, okay.”

Tony presses something on his screen, then shoves his phone in his pocket before addressing the innocent smile of the young lady standing a few feet away.

“I know your mom has taught you that it isn't nice to eavesdrop on someone's conversation.”

“I wasn't eavesdropping,” she shakes her head as her eyes widen, surprised her father would accuse her of such a thing. “I was just coming to tell you dinner was ready, but it would've been rude to interrupt your conversation…so I waited.”

Her smile brightened the room.

Her puppy dog eyes melted his heart.

How could he stay angry with the best part of him?

“You're right, that would've been rude.”

“Exactly,” she nods confidently.

“Thank you,” Tony walks over and hugs her.

“For not being rude,” she asks, her eyes narrow as she wrinkles the bridge of her nose in confusion.

“Yeah,” he answers, knowing that it isn't true. He's actually grateful that she is everything he wishes he could be, but never will. The conversation he just had, and what needs to be done is proof of that. “I love that for you.”

Olivia sighs, “Don't say that.”

“What,” he laughs. “Isn't that how you say it.”

“Yeah, but you should never say it.”

He looks down at her and asks, “Why not?”

“Because you're old.”

Something he's reminded of after every match, but there are only a few more of those left. With the bounty Cancer collected it may be even less.

“Well, this old man is hungry…let's go eat.”

Just a little longer and this can be an everyday thing, unless he finds a way to screw it up.

Story of his life.

=-=-=-=-=

Ensconced within his quarters at the back of the Hess Express, Von Kelsig lay upon his bed with his cell phone resting lazily between both hands, staring into the middle distance with an unfocused gaze. Every so often he would draw his attention back to the text message on the screen; a confirmation for an appointment at a cryobank in Los Angeles, reading it repeatedly to himself before his eyes eventually wandered off with his mind again. Whenever he snapped out of that daze, he went back to an email he’d been sent that contained complex schematics as well as satellite images of the Ecuadorian coast, complete with location markers.

“Hey, we’re nearly there,” came a voice out of the blue.

Cyril’s intrusion prompted a nervous jolt and an instinctive press of the power button, the phone falling flat on Von Kelsig’s chest as the goliath looked up to see his diminutive manager standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” Cyril asked with a wry, suggestive smile.

Von Kelsig planted a hand into the duvet frustratedly, scooping up his phone with the other as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “It’s alright,” he said, flicking the window blind up and peering out at the Philadelphia skyline. “It’s not like you’ve been travelling with me for a year and been asked to knock every single time I come back here to rest.”

“Well unless you think a stranger’s going to walk through the door while you’re jerking off, I don’t see the problem,” Cyril said flatly.

“No, I don’t imagine you would,” Von Kelsig replied in a similar tone.

He rose from the bed and stormed towards the doorway, refusing to break stride and forcing Cyril to back out of the way or be trampled. The dwarf regarded his charge with a stern silence as Von Kelsig made his way to the front of the bus, gazing out the windscreen as they approached the shipyard and the looming frame of the decommissioned aircraft carrier docked beyond.

=-=-=-=-=

The passageways were eerily silent as they made their way through the bowels of the USS Bandit, the giant’s thudding footsteps echoing loudly without the hum of engines and electronics to dull them as they made their way towards the wardroom in record time. Travelling from one room to another had felt like navigating a maze on previous occasions, despite the clear signposts dotted around everywhere, but with each excursion the routes were becoming more and more recognizable.

The war room was void of any pomp or personality, like many of the other less-frequented areas of the ship, just a large table surrounded by several chairs with a TV mounted on the far wall and a water cooler in the corner that belched and bubbled intermittently. Tony Gamble was already seated on the opposite side as they entered, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and legs propped up on the table.

“For a minute there, I thought that thudding was Bobby’s heartbeat,” Tony teased as he opened his eyes and checked his watch.

“Then you’d have felt the ship pitching, surely,” Von Kelsig responded with a smirk and a nod towards his partner. “How’ve you been?”

“Constipated, but at least it's not the runs,” The Grin sighed, pulling his legs off the table. “How about you? Found a new place yet?”

“Na, not yet,” the giant said, folding his arms. “I want to stay central, but there’s nothing out there as good as what Parts Unknown was. I’m between the bus and hotels ‘til then.”

“Can't say I miss that,” Tony snorted and shook his head. “Drove me insane when I moved from Vegas to Texas.”

“Yeah, well,” Von Kelsig side-eyed his manager. “Something’ll come up eventually.”

Cyril caught the slight and gawped, but said nothing.

“Awesome,” Tony said, picking the remote control for the TV up off the table and waggling it back and forth. “You wanna grab a bite to eat first, or just jump on in?”

“It’s not gonna take long,” Von Kelsig wafted a hand towards the TV. “Let’s get it over with.”

Gamble acquiesced and turned the TV on, pairing his phone to it and pulling up the last couple of matches of the Masters of the Moscowverse. Class was now in session.

=-=-=-=-=

“That’s how we win, right there,” Von Kelsig pointed at the screen over an hour later, as Intruder #2 had his way with Randall Schwartz, throwing him around the ring like a ragdoll. “Isolate Randall.”

“Not a bad idea,” Tony replied, picking at his scar. “But it's something other teams have tried and focused on, and Freeman finds a way to overcome at times so it's not foolproof. And if Alexei’s out there with them…”

“I can deal with Alexei!” Cyril pipped excitedly. Tony and Hess shot a look at one another as he drew an arc across the table with his finger. “If Alexei makes a move on one of you, I’ll match him and go for one of them. Ref can’t keep an eye on both of us at the same time.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Tony said firmly, keeping his eyes on the TV.

Von Kelsig leaned forward in his chair, raising his arm to rest his head on his fist and blocking Cyril’s view of the match. “We should keep the fight to our corner, keep the ref focused in one direction. Quick tags, in and out,” he added.

“And what happens when one of ‘em jumps in and blindsides you? Alexei’ll strike as soon as the ref’s back is turned,” Cyril objected, tugging on Von Kelsig’s sleeve. “Hey, c’mon sit back, I can’t see.”

“If he’s going to be out there getting involved, it'll be better to just eliminate the problem at ringside first chance we get,” Tony suggested. “Just knock his ass out and be done with it.”

Von Kelsig arched an eyebrow. “As much as I’d love to, I don’t think Ivan’d take too kindly to that.”

“Since when is that something to worry about?” Tony argued. “If he wants to do something about it, he's welcome to come down to the ring and try. Jiles’ll back us up if we need him.”

“And what about the Whoresmen?” Von Kelsig asked with a foreboding tone. “They’re in cahoots, remember? You think three of us stand a chance against nine of them? Is it worth kicking the hornet’s nest and risking all of them bearing down on us?”

“I can take care of it guys,” Cyril interjected once more. “Trust me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Tony replied, glossing right over Cyril’s remark. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll just be the two of ‘em out there.”

“Helloooo? Are you not listening? I said I can-”

“Could always just flip ‘em off from the stage and refuse to wrestle…Cancer’s got that tag title shot in the bank collecting interest for us after all,” Von Kelsig cut in, covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. “Or is that too salty?”

Tony’s grin grew wide at the remark, but quickly faded again.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cyril said, loudly this time. “You can take Kenny and Randall, and I can help you-”

“You ain’t doing shit!” Tony snapped all of a sudden, slamming his hand on the table before pointing at Cyril with a glare in his eye. “You’re not even going to be out there with us!”

Cyril stared back in stunned silence, captivated by the sneer on Tony’s face. Cautiously, he turned to Von Kelsig for reassurance, but the giant’s attention was still fixed on the TV. Then, without acknowledging the scene, Von Kelsig pushed his chair back and rose from his seat.

“I need to piss,” he sighed. “Be right back.”

“Hey,” Cyril pleaded, motioning to Tony. “You gonna let him talk to-”

But the giant left before he could finish his sentence. Cyril turned to face Tony again, whose expression hadn’t changed, and fixed him with a look of utter disdain.

“Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He demanded, his heartbeat picking up as he felt himself shaking.

“You're joking right??” Tony replied with feigned astonishment before straightening his chair and pressing his palms flat against the table, leaning his weight on them. “Who am I? After the shit you pulled, you got the nerve to ask me who I am??”

“What shit?” Cyril balked. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Tony seethed. “The segment at Seventy-One. You harassing Bader backstage. Making out like you’re going to make his life a living hell if he dared show up in Hess’s match against Snow. Then what do you do? Yeah, nothing. You puffed your stupid little chest out and made stupid little remarks instead of doing what you said you were going to do, and what happened? Bader slides Snow an equalizer and knocks Hessian out of the Almasy. You. Did. Nothing.”

“What’s your goddamn problem, Tony?” Cyril said, putting what little bass he could muster into his voice.

“You're the damn problem!” Tony yelled back, pointing the finger again. “Do you have any idea how hard we’ve worked to get Hessian to where he is?! You’re supposed to be his manager! You’ve been with him from the beginning! And what’ve you contributed in the last year?? NOTHING! Apart from sitting on your ass collecting paychecks and royalties for your stupid gimmick, you haven't done a damn thing.”

“How dare you…” Cyril started, his eyes narrowing.

“How dare I, what? Train like I give damn and share my experience with my tag partner?? Build up his trust and confidence to where we can make a claim for the tag team titles?? I’m doing everything I need to, asshole! So is Cancer! Between the two of us, we’re the only thing keeping Hessian relevant! He’s had a tag team victory over Coral Avalon, Nate Colton, Ivan Stanislav and Jonathan-Christopher Hall because of us! He has a chance to win tag team gold because of us! He helped Cancer win the goddamn Manhunt match at Culture Shock while you hid underneath a bridge, you damn troll!”

Before anyone else can even mutter a word, The Tiny Tony Train That Could continues on releasing steam. Can’t really blame The Grin for his, let’s call it, enthusiasm. It’s not often he actually gets to speak down to someone.

Ha.

“When Big Hess listens to us, he gets results. What happens when he listens to you?? He crashes out of the Almasy and goes oh-for-two against Jason Snow! You stole airtime to make yourself look good and then you wasted the opportunity to capitalize on it!” Tony capped off by looking Cyril up and down and spitting on the floor.

Cyril was visibly twitching now, as anxious as he was irate.

“You’re a detriment to Hessian, which means you’re a detriment to us,” Tony continued. “He’s a Bandit, he’s proven himself multiple times. You’re just an old pair of holey underwear he doesn't have the heart to throw away, and there is no way in hell I’m letting you ruin our chances at tag team gold like you ruined his chances at a Universal title shot. I don’t want you anywhere near us when we’re preparing for our matches, and I damn sure don’t want you anywhere near us when we’re in the ring. As far as I’m concerned, you're nothing more than a leech. You either need to get good, or get gone. Do I make myself clear?”

Speechless, Cyril lowered his gaze to the floor. Then he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hess?” he said as he looked up, with sorrow and hope in his eyes. But the hand didn’t belong to Von Kelsig, nor was it reassuring.

There he stood. T-shades glimmering. Alfredo blonde simmering. The Manhunter.

“Come with me please,” Jiles said coolly, moving his hand to Cyril’s back and ushering him out of his chair. “We need to have a chat.”

“Look,” Cyril pleaded as he let himself be guided out of the room. “I can explain…”

“It’s okay,” Cancer said. “It’s all going to be okay. Trust me.”

Tony watched as the dwarf was escorted out of the room without another word, shaking his head and cursing under his breath once he was alone. A few minutes later, the goliath reappeared in the doorway.

“Where’d he go?” Von Kelsig asked, noting the empty chair.

“Where he can’t get in our way,” Tony said gruffly as his partner took his seat. “Look, Hess, we’re not spring chickens any more. We’ve been at this a long time. We have to be locked in at all times. Every match matters. Every result matters. We’ve got a chance at something here, and we can’t afford any distractions.”

“I know,” Von Kelsig mournfully acknowledged after a beat.

“So forget about him. You’re Bandit property now. You know you can trust Cancer, and you know you can trust me. Leave the past in the past and let’s focus on the future. We’re staring down the barrel of a tag title shot, it could come at any time, we just need to stay locked in to make sure we get the job done. Cancer’s got us a shot banked already, like you said, and if we can pull out another couple of wins maybe we won’t even need it. I just need you to trust us, and forget about the midget. We need to make every moment count. Can we do that?”

The giant shuffled in his seat, unsure of where to look. A tense silence came over him as he mulled over the situation. Tony wasn’t wrong, as capable as they both were it was incumbent upon them to take advantage of every opportunity presented to them before they aged out of contendership completely. The fact that his stablemates had sown success for him while his manager and best friend of twenty-five years had dropped the ball, and rested on his laurels, had created quite the conundrum. Separate the wheat from the chaff to ensure glory, or remain loyal and abide mediocrity?

Tony gave him the time to consider his options before pressing him for an answer. “Hess,” he implored. “You with me?”

“No, you’re right,” Von Kelsig said eventually, his chest tightening and jaw clenching. “I understand. I’m with you.”

=-=-=-=-=

THE YELLOW PAGES

A grin.

Not that one.

This one is framed by a thick beard.

The one you expected.

The one that is permanently scarred on the face of the other PRIME hall of famer that has formed one of the most formidable tag teams to ever step foot in a wrestling ring – possibly the only one capable of dethroning the current PRIME tag team champions – is nowhere to be seen.

“Masters of the Moscowverse.”

But his voice is heard.

“A nice little play on words from your previous tag team name. Understandable, considering your decision to go red.”

The camera panned out slowly, and there at waist level of the Murder Show we find Happy Heelmore himself.

“Something is missing though.”

Tony Gamble.

“It's easy to miss, because some may consider it to be insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”

Hessian.

“But you guys will always be the B Team to me.”

The eGG Bandits.

“If nothing else, it showed that you understood who you really were. I respected that, but then you went and joined what many consider to be the fourth best alliance here in PRIME…The Red Army.”

What looked like a toothpick, hung loosely from the right corner of The Grin’s mouth as he continued.

“That's when you became nothing more than cannon fodder for your fearful leader, you're just the only one still blind to that fact. How many members have come and gone since you joined?”

A brief pause as he allowed that rhetorical question to settle in.

“Where was Ivan at WarGames when you got hit with Terminal Cancer?”

It isn't a toothpick, but it is a piece of wood.

“What did he do when Bobby sprayed your face with a mouthful of chocolate sauce, right before my partner dropped you with the Ballista? He was right there, Kenny, and he did nothing. Maybe the reason you can't see the obvious is because I blinded you with that poke in your eyes, but neither one of you have ever really been the sharpest fork in the drawer.”

A splinter actually.

“Which is why I have no problem telling you exactly how we're going to beat you at ReVival.”

Ladies and gentlemen, this is all that is left of the reason you even tuned in to these things…The Stool.

“My partner here thinks it's a bad idea. Cancer, of all people, said that I was being arrogant.”

Ha. 

“I just want you to have the best chance possible of beating us, because I want this to be a challenge.”

It will be sorely missed, but it had to be done.

“Giving you an advantage like this is the best way for the two of you not to go out there and embarrass yourselves, because that is all the two of you have done since you got here in PRIME.”

The Stool thought it was above Tony, that it somehow deserved his spotlight.

“So to lay all of our cards on the table, our focus in this match is going to be to single out Randall and make sure he becomes less of a threat. Because let's not kid ourselves here, Kenny, regardless of who's in your corner you've always been the link that would break the chain.”

Well in the end, it got exactly what it deserved.

“So knock the dust off of Randy, put together a well thought out counter to our plan, and write a message to address your enemies. Do whatever it is you think will give you enough confidence to step into the ring and give Hess and I a fight we will never forget, because even if this match means nothing in the long run – that having the banked tag team title match in Cancer's pocket means we don't even need to beat you – we want to beat you.”

It was destroyed.

“We want there to be no doubt in anyone's mind that the eGG Bandits are not only the best tag team in PRIME.”

And the B Team is next.

“We are the greatest alliance.”

Hessian's grin curled into a sneer as he said that last line, because the tag team titles are about to get Yoked as the Almasy is infected with Terminal Cancer.