Hunting the Mans

When you want to have a plan with any hope of success, well that’s when you have to think ahead. That’s when you have to have the kind of vision that is normally reserved for those characters in movies when everything suddenly goes into slow motion and then you see all of the equations that form around their face and above their head and stuff. So then once you see all of that, you’re like “oh man, that person is really good at maths”.

Well despite the world of Mathematics being dead in PRIME, Cecilworth Farthington had become something of an “equation above his head” boi, due to his intense desire to be the man who actually retired Coral Avalon. I mean it was supposed to happen in the Tokyo Dome, but thanks to foreign interference, that didn’t happen.

Hashtagstopthesteal am I right??

So, now if Cecilworth wanted to be the one to put an end to Coral Avalon once and for all, he first had to bring him back. Bring him back into a business that he once thought he had left behind. By once, I mean like three weeks ago, it’s been really recent, and I think we’re all just processing how to deal with the moment.

There had to be a multiplan. He knew that one or the other wouldn’t be enough to bring a man out of retirement, when he was too busy enjoying times with his sword wife and blue child.

The first part of the plan would be to somehow beat the entire embodiment of America that was Ivan Stanislav in the first night of Culture Shock to become PRIME’s Universal Champion.

That would certainly have the “be Universal Champion” part of the plan be really locked down.

But just being Universal Champion would not be enough to achieve the ultimate goal here.

Cecilworth Farthington needed to be a Universal Champion who had found himself in the position to be able to start calling his own shots. To be in a position where he could name his own opponent.

There was basically only one way to do that in PRIME.

Win the Universal Championship.

Win Manhunt.

Bring Coral Back.

—

I’m really concerned about my participation in this Manhunt match. For example, a big Russian man who has the kind of suspenders that make him look like the manager of a really underwhelming hen party bar, may want to look for revenge if I just so happen to be a helper and get rid of tens of pounds that he’s been carrying around recently.

Still, you want to help the aged. Would hate to have Ivan pull his back out, that’s why I should be able to take the title for him the day before.

Still, imagine if Ivan really was as much of a seedy bartender as his suspenders may imply.

“Hello ladies, you can see my nipples under red, if you know what I mean?” is the kind of thing I would imagine Strip Ivan saying. Maybe he’d even lick one of the nipples under the red suspenders to get extra business.

Because he is tabloid trash, you know?

You know!

—

Cecilworth Farthington finds himself in the middle of an elevator that is shooting him to the top of the Laqua building (and shopping mall) inside the Tokyo Dome area. We see a quick camera montage of him taking off his shoes (but we do not see his feet, as we do not want to enable them feet perverts that they have these days), checking into the spa, and then…

Getting completely naked?

Can the ACE Network air a fully naked man?

Like his dong is just kinda flopping around in the mind, is that something we’re good with?

If not, let’s just pretend the flapping and flopping dong is fully pixelated, so as to protect sweet young minds into even learning what the Dong of Farthington even looks like.

Still, regardless of pixelation and censorship, there is one universal truth, and that’s that Cecilworth Farthington is fully enjoying the hot baths area of the Laqua Spa in the Tokyo Dome region.

As Cecilworth slowly lowers himself into a big hot pool of human soup, he asks for the camera to follow him in. With his arms resting on the sides of the bath, Farthington kicks his legs up and looks the camera straight down the lens.

“As far as I understand, Manhunt could happen all over Tokyo, in all directions, so that means that at the second night of Culture Shock, many of my male colleagues could decide they want to hide in a place like this, rather than being that Man of Hunt, like the match implies. They may decide that letting their cocks just flop and flap out in the wind like the good lord intended is a safer option than having the entire roster run after you when you are the one who is declared to be the person with a head of shit.”

Cecilworth looks at a balding businessman who sits in the baths opposite him. The businessman is clearly rather unhappy with the very idea of a bunch of cameras being shoved in his face during what is supposed to be a relaxing time for him. Cecilworth gestures towards the man with his thumb.

“See, you have to be on full alert during this Manhunt thing. You look at this man over here and you think “oh, that just a bald and pathetic waste of a human with very little contribution to society”, but I look at the man and think “maybe that’s Ned Reform” and I would rather take the risk and get the big points towards my journey of properly retiring Coral Avalon, rather than not get the points and let a bald man live a life of piece.”

The camera cuts to a quick montage of Cecilworth putting his Manhunt actions into practice by cannonballing the saltwater in the bald man’s fan and then attempting a cover for the three. I say “for the three” because Cecilworth holds the man’s skull underwater for a lot longer than a count of three until the camera crew remind Cecilworth that Manhunt hasn’t even started yet. Cecilworth backs away from the now floating and buoyant balding businessman, while yelling “THAT’S WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO THINK, MANHUNT COULD START AT ANY TIME.”

No matter how many people try to reassure Cecilworth that Manhunt actually starts at a fixed time, he’s not willing to listen to any of them, as he yells “HOW DO I KNOW YOU’RE NOT PART OF IT?”

Offended by all the people telling him to stop, Cecilworth stomps out of the hot baths, his dong still dangling in the spring air of Tokyo. We don’t get to properly enjoy it though, THANKS CENSORSHIP.

—

Two years ago, I managed to get myself something of a snazzy spot. The 41st Man in the 40-Man Battle Royal. Just when everyone was going to assume it was over, and they could start putting their name to glory, there was going to be another countdown, there was going to be a final surprise, and Cecilworth Farthington was going to make it known to the world of PRIME that he had arrived.

I thought that kind of sneaky treat would be the shortcut to glory, that in the name of Atken, I would come to PRIME and be the man to take up the lofty mantle that Phil Atken had left in the name of Glue. 

But boy, my only little protege, he just had to try and show what he was made of. He wanted to show darling ole Uncle Cecilworth just how much he had come along since our sparring days. He wanted to make a statement that he was his own man, that he had shook off the trappings of his father. He wanted to fuck me up, because he knew how much fucking me up would do for his reputation.

I was one man from walking into PRIME and immediately challenging the Universal Champion and that one that decided to throw the gauntlet down just had to be the person I trained, right?

I have the worst fucking luck, I swear to god, even when I try to tilt all the odds ever in my favour.

Still, two years, two years it took me, from that moment of being the big surprise, until I managed to even be in the whispering range of the Universal Championship. I’ve fought hard, don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely fought with the best, and yet a chance to be the representative of the pinnacle of the industry just managed to elude me.

Thanks to falling at the last hurdle.

If I didn’t fail against my darling adopted nephew, well, I think the look of PRIME is very different. 

Some could say that Ivan reigning supreme is my fault and well, actually, they might just have a point there.

—

Cecilworth has managed to somehow find a way to get dressed again and has now departed the spa of the Laqua area of Tokyo Dome City.

“Well, look, as much as we have to expect any possible avenue for Manhunt, there’s also a truth that a large percentage of the people in the match probably are unlikely to freeball that on camera. To be honest, I think the only person who would be capable of showing up to the spa with confidence is probably the orange mulleted fella and his robotic gold penis. I know people well and if a fella done got himself a golden peen, he’s going to show that thing off to anyone who would dare look in that direction.”

Cecilworth, who now at least has some free flowing linen shorts and a tank top on, in front of the elevator to the spa area of Tokyo Dome City, stands with both of his hands on his hips, looking like a victorious superhero who has just defeated a villain of some description.

“Now, I understand in this Manhunt match, not everything will decide to hide immediately in the naked zone, even though it is the most natural hiding location due to the fact that it means that low blows are anywhere between twenty and thirty times more powerful. Yet, the risk of being caught with your hogs of various sizes on camera means that there is likely other areas where we will have to hunt the mans.”

Cecilworth swaggers around and the camera cuts up to the Steel Dolphin rollercoaster that sits directly opposite the bulbous dome of the actual Tokyo Dome stadium itself. Cecilworth points up to the peak of the thrill ride, with a lot of purpose in his eyes.

“Just think of how many mans that could try and hide in the tracks of this supposed Steel Dolphin… I don’t see a dolphin anywhere, to be honest with you, I think the whole thing is a fraud… however, think how much mans could try and hide precious and valuable points within the steel beams on this ride. You could hide upwards of seventeen men in this steel structure, and if I was just to ignore that, that’s like… ten thousand points that I would be throwing out of the window.”

If you in any way were to doubt about the sincerity of the Glueminati’s Financier and his words, he definitely has a lustful violence twinkle in his eye as he looks at the Steel Dolphin roller coaster and ponders how many mans and therefore how many points that he could gain from the situation. They are definitely eyes that could imply someone who has completely lost all semblance of reality.

“Now, I’m no coward, and that’s why I say with absolute certainty in my voice, that if I should just so happen to lock a big and beautiful armbar atop this said Thunder Dolphin roller coaster, and should said Thunder Dolphin roller coaster just so happen to tap out in response to an armbar level of lockage that has been ordained by God himself, that I am due twenty to thirty points to account for all of the cowards who have elected to hide within the beams of twisted steel and seat appeal.”

Cecilworth continues to look at the roller coaster as it flies through the hot baths area of the spa, giving all the patrons of the high speed thrill a cheeky look at an authentic Japanese baths experience.

“Also I get points for any of the boners I cause as I fly by when I have this rollercoaster in an armbar. Which is probably going to be like eleventy seven billion points for Manhunt.”

Cecilworth looks up again at the peak of the roller coaster as he yells “I WILL HAVE YOU AND I WILL HAVE YOUR SECRET POINTS!” towards the metal beast that has caught his eyes.

—

Now, you may think to yourself “Cecilworth, all of the Glue boys are in Manhunt, why wouldn’t you let one of them claim the victory and make everything Glue forever more?” and to be honest, that’s a really good question. I should be pushing my body like I am right now. I should simply prepare for Ivan and should I manage to squeak by the mauling, I should then turn to ensure that one of my sticky pals wins the Hunt of Men. It is of course the most common sense strategy, but I dunno… I just… I just…

…I just wanna be the one to watch Coral’s career die. 

Having it at the hands of Ivan just feels really unfair and totally bogus. Coral doesn’t deserve to have lost his career to some kind of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles villain that became sentient, he deserves to lose his career to his equal.

He deserves to lose his career to me.

I EARNED THAT!

The man who took twenty years to look up the dictionary definition of what the definition of “yeet” was, he didn’t earn shit. 

This was always supposed to be about me and Coral.

Glue and the legends of the past.

Now we’ve got a fucking honking clown car to deal with before I can right the wrongs of what past has happened. 

Yet I have a once in a lifetime opportunity to have everything happen on my terms. The title, the match, the glory, the recognition.

If it wasn’t for that, I would be happy to be one of Glue’s strong vessels. 

But I owe it to Joe.

I owe Joe Coral’s head.

And there’s only one way I can still achieve that goal.

—

Cecilworth Farthington stands in front of the TGI Friday’s that exists in the stairway between the entrance to Korakuen Hall, and one of the many gate entrances to the Tokyo Dome.

He looks at the restaurant with a quizzical eyebrow, gesturing to the Red, White and Glue logo with a sort of uncertainty, muttering “feels like the kind of venue that Ivan would hang out in… he’s an American sort, didn’t you know?”

He looks at the menu that is on the outside of the building, and studies the many delicious apps that he could consume, whether they be wings of chicken, or sticks of the mozzarella. Carefully studying each local cocktail drink, the former Five Star Champion starts to sniff heartily at the area he finds himself in.

“You know, I don’t know why, but I do expect that the Manhunt match will end in this very restaurant… it just feels right that a match as indulgent as Manhunt is supposed to be, it ends in one of the universal symbols of America’s dysfunctional excess.”

The barbershop colours of the logo almost seem to drive Cecilworth to a similar range as he looks up to the heavens and yells “I WILL DESTROY MISTER FRIDAYS AND ALL OF THOSE WHO THANK HIM BECAUSE HE IS NOT WELCOME IN THE KINGDOM OF WRESTLING… DUE TO THAT ONE TIME I ATE SOME BAD WINGS AND HAD THE SHITS!”.

The eyes roll back forward in Cecilworth’s skull after he was clearly consumed by the spirits of wrestling vengeance. He hears his own words as he zones back in and looks slightly forlorn, muttering “man, they didn’t have to mention the wings” to himself.

As Cecilworth walks towards the restaurant, he carefully studies the reservation list, “I’m looking for mans to hunt”, he says to himself, as if he expects to see something like “Colton, N” booked in for what would be the middle of the Manhunt match on Night 2 of Culture Shock.

“Hmmmm, these hunted mans, they know that I will know their tricks, but be rest assured, Mr. Fridays, I know that eventually they will all come to you and they will want straws in a paper wrapper and that’s when I know that I will be hunting them, and I shall hunt them good and proper.”

—

I hate the fact that in this kind of environment, I have to keep even my close friends at an arm's length.

That’s the problem, right? That’s the problem we’ve all been thrown.  For the amusement of those I may have even viewed as a darling friend, we’ve been put in a position to betray even that which is close to use, all in the name of precious points.

Absolutely disgusting kind of match.

You want Hayes, FLAMBERGE and Joe to think that I just don’t think they have it yet?

That’s the message this match wants to send. 

Yet I think I get through to them, I think I can get them to all understand. That this match, it’s bigger than all of us, it’s bigger than even the Universal Championship itself… it’s the opportunity for Glue to capture the biggest five-headed scalp in all of pro-wrestling. It was a chance to take a feather out of the cap of the red army. 

—

Cecilworth Farthington completes his tour of Tokyo Dome City by standing in the centre of the baseball field, looking up higher and higher at the crowd he expects to surround him on both nights of Culture Shock.

As if he himself was a batter, he looks at where would normally be the mound of the indoor baseball stadium and begins to picture the middle of the wrestling ring. He looks out at all the different dugouts and pathways to the outside of the Dome and starts to see the escape routes of various wrestlers, starting to realise that a Shithead won’t necessarily want to see much of the Dome.

From his point in the middle of the mound, he starts to consider all the avenues of escape and who would use them, it’s a good piece of audio when the camera crew hears him muttering “well, Jiles would go this way, but I think Williams would just start trying to show his juicy ass to the crowd and forget when he was to be manhunted, which makes his juicy ass prime manhunting material.”

Now since the camera crew could not make out everything that was said by Farthington in the middle of the dome, you just have to assume that all of this is true. He could have been muttering about anyone’s juicy ass, we just assume it’s Rob Williams from context and context often drives you to the wrong location.

The point is, Cecilworth is carefully considering all the hunting options for many of the shitheads on offer and thinking about the best ways to destroy them.

Sadly for Cecilworth’s understanding of the match, he hears the Thunder Dolphin roller coaster speed by once more and assure himself “the men will hide there, we will hunt the men, we will have all the points.”

—

I don’t want to cause any harm to my friends in Glue. They all have bright futures. In fact, it is my greatest hope that all of us enter the Hunt for Mans with glorious golds around our waists, leaving the only champion apart from us to be…

Cancer Jiles?

Okay, that can’t be right, surely we can… Hmmmm, I wonder if we can coax Sid back with a Five Star run, just anything to stop what I’ve just realised is happening now that I’ve paid attention to it. 

I think they would all understand though, they know how much it would mean to have 5-Head-On as part of our marketing, as part of our legacy. Selling the remains of Coral, the thoughts of a legendary Universal Championship run, that’s something that I think even our Humble Proprietor would bring out the flag of celebration for.

—

It’s not often I see Dirk Dickwood, I certainly didn’t expect to see him during my walk around Tokyo Dome City.

“The boss wants you.” was all I got before Dirk jammed his smartphone into my neck.

“Phil, hi, how are you?”

The silence went a long, a little too long.

“PERFORMANCE REVIEW?”

Yup, that’ll do it.