Radio Killed The Wrestling Star

La Chaîne des Sports Montréal - Boulevard Réné-Lévesque | January 10th, 2026

Boulevard Réné-Levesque is named for the most electrifying, idolized Premier in the history of Québec. The first man to push for the sovereignty of the province, the first great unifying force of the disenfranchised majority. It’s only fitting that the boulevard named after him is the hub of French media, the birthplace of every major Francophone zeitgeist of the last fifty years. The companies operating on this five kilometre stretch of pothole-riddled gravel are watched and listened to by hundreds and thousands of people daily.

La Chaîne des Sports is not one of those companies. Luc Labelle sits inside their dingy radio station, ready to go live on perhaps the most barren airwaves in the entire city. His eyes are still heavy from the red-eye he took in from Miami. He picks at the peeling foam on his headphones, which must be even older than him, and struggles with his flimsy clip-on microphone. In the background, he hears the cheap advertisements taking up the station break. Right now, some guy named Jean-Luc is flatly advertising his handyman business.

“You know, I really appreciate you doing my show.”

He looks up. Sitting across from him is his girlfriend, Dahlia Duquette, the host of the station’s 10-2 block.

He smiles and shrugs. “It’s no big deal, I’ve been needing to get myself back in the conversation for a while now. I just usually hate doing media, but uh…well, it’s less bad with you.”

Dahlia feigns indignity, clutching her necklace. “Less bad? So STILL bad?”

Luc shakes his head, inadvertently shaking the headphones back off of his head. “I don’t know yet, we’ll see how the interview goes.”

“Speaking of the interview, is there anything you want me to ease up on? Because I don’t want to ask something if it’s going t-”

“No,” he cuts her off. “No, it’s fine. Needle me on anything you want, I’m good on it all, and I want you to get the best interview possible. If I don’t want to say something, I’ll just decline to comment.”

“Alright, then. Good to go?” Luc nods, and she counts down on her fingers as Jean-Luc tells people to “come on down if they got anything that needs fixin’”.

Three, two…

“Welcome back to ‘Dîner Avec Dahlia’ everybody, and if you’re just tuning in, we’ve got a HUGE interview here for you today. I’m here with one of PRIME’s brightest young stars and a former Alias Champion, Luc Labelle.”

“Former PRIME FC Openweight Champion actually, but thank you for having me.”

She jokingly dismisses his rebuttal with a wave of her hand, but avoids scoffing, not wanting the listening audience to get the wrong idea. “Thank you for being here. It’s been a little bit since you’ve competed for PRIME. As a matter of fact, you represented them last night at IMMORTALS in a winning effort against another young talent in Declan Alexander. We’ll get to discussing that match in a little bit, but the last time you competed on a proper PRIME event, meaning one that wasn’t co-promoted, was all the way back on Halloween night. You’ve remained active, but elsewhere. Why haven’t you been a regular fixture on PRIME television?”

Luc exhales, not quite knowing how to answer that question. “Well, I was worked like a dog prior to that, and I figure I deserved my time off. I’m also pretty damn new to this sport, and I wanted to see what else was out there. But those were all pretty secondary reasons, to tell you the truth. It was…just a really, really long few months.”

Dahlia takes a couple of notes, and Luc wonders what she wrote. He’ll take a look later, anyways. “Well, Luc, you certainly were in the news during your absence from PRIME. Back in November, reports came out that you were spotted assaulting a paparazzo outside of a rehabilitation clinic in North Montreal. Ultimately, the photographer did not press charges, but the incident was widely talked about. Do you care to comment on what went down that day?”

“Well,” Luc sighs. “What can I say except…”

*

Clinique Deuxième Chance - Rue Iberville | November 18th, 2025

Luc and Michel walk the cobblestone path up to the rehab clinic that their mother has spent the last couple of weeks in. Michel has visited a few times. Luc hasn’t yet.

They get to the door. Luc stops, and so Michel does too.

“I’m not going in”. Luc leans against the building. “Can’t do it.”

Michel is obviously frustrated, but attempts not to let his tone of voice betray his emotions. “You sure?”

“Yup.”

He rolls his eyes and steps in to check on his mother. Luc expects to hear an update on her recovery later. He’ll pretend not to care all that much about it. Instead of worrying about it, he decides to scroll through his Jabbr feed, ignoring everything that has the word “Alias” or “Claymore” in it. Suddenly, his peace is disturbed by a blinding camera flash.

“What the fuck?”

He looks up to see a scrawny, middle-aged man holding a giant camera and talking into what seems to be a tape recorder. “Oh my god, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Luc Labelle outside of REHAB? Looks like he’s been struggling with Blaze in more than one way, folks! Get it, because blazing is also a term associated with dr-”

Luc Labelle doesn’t know if he’s reacting to the shitty pun, or the implication that rehab is for him, or out of some weird urge to defend his mother, but next thing he knows, the camera is smashed to bits and the paparazzo is face-down, bleeding all over the cobblestone.

Michel rushes out, both surprised and not surprised at what he sees.

“Jesus Christ, Luc, what did you do?”

“What the fuck does it look like I did, Mic? You better get his ass out of here before I do it again, too!”

Michel hustles the man to his feet, and the twiggy bastard looks like he’s shell-shocked. Michel whispers something in his ear, and the guy nods and stumbles away, leaving a trail of crimson as he goes.

“What’d you tell him?”

Michel shrugs. “I told him that if he didn’t press charges, I’d send him a couple of backstage PRIME scoops. I’ll just make them up, honestly.”

Luc nervously chuckles, hoping it’ll be enough to ward the victim off. “That’s not bad. Uh, how’s Mom?”

“Same old. She wants to know if you’re going to come see h-”

“All I asked was how she was, Mic.”

“Okay.”

They walk back to Michel’s car in silence.

*

“...he deserved it? I mean, the guy was invading my personal space, and to be honest with you, no matter how much those guys get paid to nab pictures and get scoops, I don’t think it’s ever alright to go after someone at a rehab clinic of all places.”

Dahlia mouths out the words “I’m sorry” before asking her next question. “There were rumours flying around that your presence at the clinic was, in fact, to receive treatment. Your lack of activity around that time exacerbated those claims. Do you care to set the record straight?”

Luc looks down and fiddles with his microphone. “It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t for my brother, but I’m going to have to choose not to elaborate further on that, as it isn’t my story to tell.”

“Of course.” Dahlia begins to scribble something in her notebook. “Onto brighter news. Back in December, you made your shocking debut for DEFIANCE. The show was all the way in Lyon, France. Despite your acrimonious relationship with the fans over there, how did it feel to be in what many Quebecers consider to be the Homeland? Furthermore, did you enjoy competing on a DEFIANCE card, or does your heart remain with PRIME?”

*

DEFIANCE Uncut 192 - LDLC Arena, Lyon, France | December 10th, 2025

Luc Labelle tumbles into an Uber with Dahlia, the first time she’s ever accompanied him to a show. He’s a little worse for wear after a short but violent match against Aiden Harlow, but they’re on their way back to the hotel, and then right onto a train to head over to Paris for a couple of days. He’s already a little tired of France, and especially with the backhanded compliments he’s received for his Quebecois accent, but he’s very happy to actually be on a trip with Dahlia for a change.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing me, Luc!” Dahlia exclaims excitedly. “It’s like, I don’t know, shit like the Eiffel Tower never felt like stuff that I’d actually get to see with my own eyes, and it’s hard to believe that it’s ACTUALLY going to happen tomorrow!”

Luc doesn’t really notice that she’s saying anything. Usually an attentive partner, his eyes are locked on his phone. He’s rewatching his call-out promo on Declan Alexander from earlier that night.

“To be honest, every time I hear my brother watching one of your little videos, I get the overwhelming urge to beat your ass. And it looks like I have my chance…”

He watches himself pause for dramatic effect. Dahlia continues to fail to get his attention.

“But not here. Not in enemy territory. I’ve already disgraced myself enough, showing up on this second-rate show, in this second-rate country. If you want to step to me, you can do it on my terms, at IMMORTALS.”

He needs to study Declan Alexander. His strengths, his weaknesses, his signature moves, his tendencies, his EVERYTHING. Luc begins composing a text message to Michel, asking for the scouting report.

“Luc?”

He looks up from his phone. “Hmm?”

She looks at his phone. “Do you mind focusing on something other than work for the night?”

“I don’t mind,” he lies, putting his phone away. He just starts replaying the promo in his head instead.

*

Dahlia rips out a page of her notebook and passes it to Luc. Pls don’t play with your mic, you can hear the scratching on the broadcast. Labelle gives her a thumbs up and begins to answer. “You know, it was cool to see the world a bit, but I don’t really give a shit about the so-called homeland. My homeland is Montreal-Nord. As far as I’m concerned, that’s my country. People from the other side of the city should need a passport to get to my side, let alone people from France. As for DEFIANCE, I’ll wrestle for anybody that pays me. Sure, my contract has the PRIME logo on it, it has Lindsay Troy’s signature on it, but the only signature that matters to me is mine, and I’ll collect checks and skulls no matter where I go. As a matter of fact, my New Year’s Resolution is to expand my wrestling horizons a bit more, so keep your eyes peeled.”

“Luc, that brings me to my next question. DEFIANCE wasn’t the only place we saw you compete. You were also part of the Belmont Classic, and though you didn’t come away with the victory, you did do quite well. Did you feel that the tournament was a satisfactory cap to your rookie campaign, or were you disappointed with the loss?”

*

2025 Belmont Classic Night Three - Chaifetz Arena, St Louis, Missouri | December 13th, 2025

Michel Labelle has been around Luc for a lot of his biggest meltdowns. He’s been around for Luc’s first breakup. And his second, and third, and fourth. He’s been around for every time Luc has lost at anything, whether something as major as an MMA fight, or something as minor as cornhole at a family reunion. But he has never seen Luc as deranged as this. Luc Labelle is currently at rock bottom.

He is currently throwing a tantrum in a parking lot.

"WHAT THE FUCK EVEN WAS THAT, SERIOUSLY?! I MEAN, I’M STILL TRYING TO PROCESS HOW EVERYTHING MANAGED TO GO SO WRONG, SO FAST, WITH ZERO WARNING AND ZERO EXPLANATION! A FUCKING SUNSET FLIP! A FUCKING ROLL-UP! ONE MINUTE EVERYTHING IS FINE, THE NEXT IT’S A COMPLETE FUCKING MESS, AND YOU’RE STANDING THERE STARING AT IT LIKE, NO, THIS CANNOT BE REAL, THIS CANNOT BE HOW IT ENDS! AND IT JUST IS! AND THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT!"

"Relax, it’s one loss, you’ll bounce back…"

"AND I DOMINATED THE WHOLE MATCH! I WAS BEATING ASS! AND NOBODY EVEN CHEATED, THERE WAS NO BULLSHIT, AND THAT MAKES THIS EVEN MORE BULLSHIT! I’M TELLING YOU, CHECK THE TAPE! I’M SURE I FUCKING KICKED OUT, THERE’S NO WAY I DIDN’T! AND SOMEHOW I’M THE ONE EXPECTED TO JUST SHRUG AND ACCEPT IT! NAH! ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT! THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH BULLSHIT A PERSON CAN SWALLOW BEFORE IT STARTS COMING BACK UP! I’M SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST ROOKIE! THE BEST ROOKIE EVER!"

"Hey, calm down, it’s not worth getting worked up over…"

"AND EVERYONE ELSE ACTS LIKE THIS IS JUST HOW IT GOES, LIKE THIS IS NORMAL, LIKE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CLAP, NOD, AND MOVE ALONG! NO! I’M ANGRY! I’M FRUSTRATED! I FEEL ROBBED, DISMISSED, AND FED A BIG STEAMING PLATE OF FUCK YOU! SAY WHATEVER YOU WANT ABOUT IT, DRESS IT UP HOWEVER YOU LIKE, IT STILL FEELS BAD, AND IT STILL SUCKS!"

"Take a breath, man, it happens to everyone…"

“FUCK! SHIT! FUCK! SHIT! FUCK! SHIT! FUCK!"

Michel nervously watches as a young family walks by this absolute disaster of a scene. The mother covers her daughter’s ear so quickly that it knocks her ice cream cone to the pavement below. The father begins to dial something on his phone, and Michel worries that it could be arena security, or worse, the police. Luc is too enamoured with his own self-hatred to notice.

“Listen, man, I think it might be time to cool it, okay? This is pathetic.”

“PATHETIC! PATHETIC AIN’T THE FUCKING WORD FOR IT! I MEAN, WHAT WOULD MOM SAY IF SHE SAW THAT MATCH! IT’S LIKE WH-”

Luc stops himself dead in his tracks. Why would I say that?

“Ohhhh…so that’s what this is all about?”

Luc doesn’t answer.

“You think…you think maybe you should try to call her soon?”

Luc, still flashing an unblinking thousand yard stare, gives a half-nod.

Michel softens his tone. “Do…you want me to leave you alone for a sec?”

Another half-nod.

“Okay, but don’t stay for too long. I think some guy might have called the cops on you, and you REALLY don’t need another story about you in the news.”

Mic walks off, allowing Luc to stew in a puddle of his own blood, sweat and tears.

*

Luc shrugs. “Well, it sucked, but I’m not gonna freak out about it or anything.” Dahlia rolls her eyes, knowing full well that he’s lying through his teeth. “I’m not going to let it define my first year in this sport. I’m very proud of what I accomplished in 2025, especially as somebody that’s new to the sport of professional wrestling. And now that I have my sea legs under me, now that I have some experience under my belt, I can guarantee that my 2026 is going to be even better.”

“Well, you certainly started the year off hot. You picked up a huge win over Declan Alexander yesterday. Leading up to the match, a lot of people had a lot of things to say about the fact that both of you are quite young. I mean, there are competitors in both PRIME and DEFIANCE that are older than the two of you combined.”

*

PRIME X DEFIANCE: IMMORTALS - Kaseya Center, Miami, Florida | January 9th, 2026

Luc Labelle is exhausted. Declan Alexander, a formidable opponent, pushed him to his absolute limit. Labelle knows he had to cheat to win. He doesn’t particularly care. Not one to pop champagne and blow noisemakers after a victory, Double L slumps against a cold concrete wall, which feels quite nice after such an arduous win.

“Hey.”

Luc looks up. There’s Michel, who didn’t accompany him to the ring tonight. Luc’s request. Nothing personal, just didn’t want to look like he needed an unfair advantage in an interpromotional contest. “Hey, Mic. What’s up?”

“Well, uh, PRIME just messaged me. Said they want you on ReVival 80. They want you against Danny Christie. You ready to come back?”

Luc doesn’t even need to think about it. “Yeah,” he responds breathlessly. “I’m ready.”

*

“I’ll tell you right now, I don’t like when people say I’m PART of the future of the business. I AM the future of this business, plain and simple. I will be pro wrestling, not simply a pro wrestler. Declan Alexander will be well-regarded. He’s a hell of a talent, he was a tough out, he certainly wasn’t fun to fight. But guys like that, guys that NEED the shine, will be the guys that I OUT-SHINE. There’s good, there’s great, and then there’s me. Everybody else will be a piece of the puzzle on MY undercard, and the Montreal Main Event will be more than just a nickname.”

Dahlia smiles and flashes a thumbs up at him, mouthing good answer. “We’ll have to take a station break shortly, but we should have time for one final question. This upcoming week, you’ll be taking on ‘Fair Game’ Danny Christie at ReVival 80, all the way in Puerto Rico. There’s certainly a lot of pressure on you, given that it’s PRIME’s first solo event of the year, and your first ReVival since losing the Alias T-I mean, PRIME FC Openweight Championship. What do you make of your opponent?”

“First of all, I like his nickname. In an industry full of snakes, and scammers, and cheaters, a guy that prides himself on fair play is a rarity. Danny Christie isn’t here for the spotlight, he’s here to fight. I appreciate that. To be truthful with you, I needed my brother Mic to fill me in a bit on his background, and as it turns out, he’s one tough son of a bi-uh, tough son of a gun. Former bare knuckle world champion. Hell of an accolade. But that type of fighting, as brave as it is, is unrefined. It’s for backyard fighters, and I’m a well-oiled machine! This is going to be like an archer going against an atom bomb. I can do things in there that Danny Christie can only dream of doing, and pretty soon, those things will be part of his nightmares, too. Being tough is great, but it just means that he’ll take a hell of a lot of punishment in Puerto Rico. Double L is back, and beating Danny Christie is gonna be a great way to ring in the New Year.”

“And I’m sure our listeners will be very excited to tune in to see that match on January 16th! That’s all the time we have, folks! Thanks again for the interview, Mr. Labelle, and best of luck at ReVival 80!”

“Don’t need it.”

Click.

The station goes to commercial, and Dahlia throws her headset off and runs to hug her boyfriend. “That was GREAT!”

This many months together, and he still doesn’t quite know how to take a compliment. “Aw, come on, all thanks to you. You were asking great questions!”

“Must’ve been weird to see the work side of me, huh?”

“Oh yeah, really weird,” he answers, not admitting that he listens to her show every single day. “Look, I’ve gotta go home and pack, but I can swing back by here and pick you up when you’re off the air if you’d like.”

“No, no, take your time, I’ll take the bus. Love you, I’ll see you at home!”

“Love you too.” They kiss goodbye, and Luc Labelle steps out of the warm studio into the harsh Montreal weather. The air is cold, the sidewalk is sludgy, and the bus stop is packed. He muscles his way into it, overhearing a couple of people wondering aloud if it’s really him. Luc Labelle doesn’t think he’ll ever truly get used to celebrity status.

Despite the hustle and bustle of the city, he hears his phone ding. He checks it, expecting it to be some lame TikTok that Michel sent him.

It’s a text from his mom. “I hate to ask, but when are you going to come and visit me?”

Luc thinks about it. What should he write? Never? Or right now? Or when pigs fly? Or first thing tomorrow morning?

Against his instincts, he decides to tell his mother the truth. It’s a truth that he’s had planned for a few days now, a truth that he’s more nervous for than any match he’s ever had, a truth that he hasn’t uttered out loud yet, not even to Dahlia, not even to Michel.

“Right after my next match, Maman. The day after I fly back in.”

He hopes the match goes well.

He hopes even harder that the visit does, too.