IF YOU BUILD IT, THEY WILL COME

ReVival 84

Lindsay waited until she was back in her office to open Sage’s envelope, and found that his chicken-scratched note not only included an address, but instructions.

Bring a tent and rugged clothes. Things you don’t mind ruining.

Immediately, she was glad there were no cameras there to catch her reaction. Ivan and Alexei would have had a field day. Tsonda too, if she was being honest with herself.

“He’s gotta be fucking kidding with this shit.” There’s an edge to her voice as she grabbed her phone and hastily opened Google Maps, praying that this was a sick joke.

It’s not.

The address revealed nothing but green. Everywhere.

“Motherfucker,” she spat.

A field trip to the southwest backwoods of “Pure Michigan” was not what she had in mind when she decided to throw herself into the pool for Squad Goals. Not when her idea of “roughing it” was staying in a place without high-speed Wi-Fi. Not when there were supershow details to finish finalizing at Vegas HQ and at Estadio Azteca. Not when she had both the Squad Goals match to train for and her brother-in-law’s retirement match.

An emotional contest on Night One.

And an intensely personal one on Night Two.

“I’m gonna kill Battaglia for this,” she grumbled, pouted, and plopped onto her belt throne.

As with all things since she reopened PRIME five years ago, the Queen should have expected the unexpected.

And it was about to get a lot worse…

Three Days Later…

She trudged across the dirt, bags over her shoulders and camping gear under her arms, and made mental notes of the lay of the land.

A creek burbled through a thicket of trees; crudely-cut logs were pushed through fence posts to cordon off areas for livestock and crops; a few gathering circular gathering places for community and fires after dark. A large stone jutted out of the earth further down the tree line.

Primitive. But functional?

Except for the lack of showers and a line of outhouses near a makeshift shelter, that is.

“Fantastic,” Lindsay muttered. She reached for her phone.

ONE BAR.

“Oh for the love of–”

“Surely you can survive a lack of doomscrolling and information poisoning for a little while?”  From the forest emerges Sage Pontiff himself, who would be almost comically thirst-trapped if he wasn't so sincere and so willing to wreck his good looks. He bows, as a means of greeting.  “Namaste. Welcome.”

“I’m not doomscrolling, I’m…” she sighed. “Hi, Sage,” she greeted, not wanting to be more impolite. “I didn’t expect to be on a nature retreat when I’ve got Culture Shock things to finalize, is all.”

“Fight isn't in your phone, though. Not in the ring, either, but we'll get there. Besides, nature retreat is far from what you're here for. We're here to work, to provide.”

“O…kay…” Lindsay looked around, but in the fading light she saw no clues on what the Bodhisattva could possibly mean. “Would you mind elaborating a bit?” “It’s meager here. It’s free, but it’s meager. Grew faster than I had infrastructure to provide for–frankly, I didn't even consider what infrastructure meant for a project like this. We have an expectant family who need a legitimate home. And then I thought of the battle we have to win, all of us. Because the fight isn’t in the ring. The fight is allowing cohesion where none naturally sits.”

Lindsay digested this information. “Okay. So.” Her brain continued processing. “This is team building. A house.”

“A cabin, more precise.”

She felt her head spin. Her hazel eyes met Sage’s heterochromatic ones.

“Guess I’d better get some rest then.”

Morning, Day Three

As skeptical as Lindsay had been after her conversation with Sage that first morning at Rancho Mundo, by the third day her doubts had begun to dissipate.

They were working their asses off. And doing it together.

No arguing. No striving for perfection.

Just four very different people learning to coexist and work as one to accomplish a goal.

Lindsay nodded in satisfaction as she walked back from the creek with a toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. She emerged from a clearing and saw Blaze heading toward the parking lot.

“Hey!” she called out. The Lighthouse turned toward her and waited for her to catch up. As he held a shopping list a mile long, Blaze flashed a nervous smile and waved. “Oh. Boss. Lindsay. Ms. Troy. I uh. Hello. I mean… sup?”

She looked at him curiously. “You alright?”

Blaze lowered his head and sighed.

“I suppose so, but… I’m honestly a bit embarrassed.”

Lindsay furrowed her brow. “What about?”

“Why would Sage want an armory in a new family’s house? Is this like a Hot Fuzz situation?”

Lindsay reached over and took Blaze’s list. After a glance, she looked up at him.

“This says armoire. It’s a wooden chest. Like, for clothes and things.”

Blaze winced and gestured for the list back; but Lindsay kept it in her hand. It was time for a test.

“You’ve been through a lot in your first year here. Made a complete 180 from who you used to be in SHOOT.” She paused to consider this, and him. “This really the new Blaze Claymore?”

Blaze lowered his outstretched hand and looked Lindsay in the eye.

“You can call me Nathan if you’d like. In fact… I think I’d prefer it.”

He raised his arm, this time for a hand shake.

Lindsay smiled and clasped his hand. “Nice to meet you, Nathan.”

Blaze… Nathan let out a laugh and, despite his age, looked in that moment like he was some high school kid afraid he’d been caught in a senior day prank.

“I know I caused you, and a whole lot of other people, a lot of trouble in my past,” he said. “And you didn’t have any reason to let me into PRIME given everything you witnessed. But you did. And because of that I am here. Fighting.” Blaze gently took the list of items back into his hand. “For something. For someone. For… everything.”

Lindsay’s expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “We all are, in some way. And that’s something to respect.”

Blaze looked up and met Lindsay’s gaze.

“I’m starting to feel like we’re in ‘Very Special Episode’ territory here. But, for what it’s worth, thank you for not giving up on me…” Blaze paused. “...and helping me know how to pronounce armoire.”

“You would’ve figured it out eventually.” Then, she chuckled. “Or googled it.”

Blaze smiled and nodded.

“You’re probably right.”

He paused.

“You think, maybe, after the Squad Goals match I could like… join Vae Victis or something?”

“Heh,” Lindsay chuckled. “Don’t push your luck…”

The Final Night

The beers after an arduous job finished were always the sweetest. That’s at least what Tom’s uncle would say to him all the time. For a roofer, a job that didn’t end was a failure. For a wrestler, though, the jobs that didn’t end meant you were doing something right. Lindsay found him at the fire with a longneck bottle in hand and three empties at his feet.

“Save one for me?” she asked, settling down across from him.

“Thought you were more an herbal type these days,” he said with a coy sarcasm she’d not heard in a long time. “But no, of course, drinking alone is pathetic. With friends though?”

He popped open the cooler, and she laughed.

“I hit the leaf when I need to unwind; helps when you let two entrepreneurial stoners live over your garage.” She took the bottle, popped the top, then looked at the finished cabin just beyond the firelight. “We didn’t fuck it up.”

Tom threw back and finished his beer.

“Damn right we didn’t. Whenever that baby comes, they’ll be in C-plus accommodations, gods bless ‘em.”

He leaned over to grab another beer out of the cooler when he felt a pop in his shoulder.

“GAH.”

Always the one for histrionics, Tom rubbed his shoulder with exaggeration before popping the top on his bottle.

“Time is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“It’s also an illusion, and is what we make of it, and it waits for no man, and all the other Sage-isms we’ve heard this week.”

Tom let out a guffaw.

“He’s a trip. Certainly better than some other coworkers we’ve had. Remember when you had to wear a mask just to compete, and then when you took it off, that bitch-ass mark Jon Marx quit the fed? Those were the days.”

He took a less exaggerated sip this time.

“Where’d the days go? Where’d the time go? It feels so much harder now.”

He stared into the fire like he was trying to divine a vision and tell Jon Snow he knew nothing.

“Tom, remember when I said I’d throw you in the ocean if you mentioned any of our old coworkers?” She took a swig of beer. “I let one slip by, so in lieu of an ocean there’s a creek over there, and that’ll work just as well.”

“After the day I had on that roof, it would be refreshing.”

A beat. A little tense, for good reason.

“So you’re really not nervous about Ivan and his team?”

Lindsay tapped her bottle against her leg, thinking over her answer. “The only thing they have on us is size in Ivan, and you and I have fought enough men bigger than us to know how to neutralize it. Other than that, there’s nothing they have that we don’t. You and I are just as experienced as Ivan and Chandler. Blaze and Sage are just as youthful and quick as Scott and Bobby, and equally as unpredictable. We may not have come in here as a team, but we sure as hell are leaving as one. I’m not confident in Ivan rallying his troops like Sage rallied us, and I’m not confident in all of them having his back like I have in all of you having mine.”

She took another sip. “I know Chandler Tsonda too well.”

Tom slugged the nearly-full bottle down in one sip before answering.

“I really don’t know if he needs to. Even if the other three don’t play ball, do you really expect Alexei at the very least to stand by idly?”

“Of course not. When has that ever happened? But since you brought it up…” she smiled conspiratorily. “I was thinking of asking Dan to join us at ringside.”

“Dan, as in your night one opponent? Our old boss? You sure he’d go for it?”

A slight look of surprise formed on Lindsay’s face, as if she half-didn’t expect Tom to go for it either.

“I mean, yeah. I seconded him at IMMORTALS against Ivan to keep an eye on Alexei. And…let’s just say he’ll be helping with the family business after that weekend’s over.”

Tom reached over for another beer, showing no signs of inebriation. He might have a problem.

“In my career, only two promoters ever treated me the way I thought a wrestler should be treated. You…”

He slugged his beer and let out a small belch, much to the Queen’s dismay.

“...and the goddamn Ego Buster. You get him on board, and I’ll bring the popcorn to enjoy for whatever he does to that little lapdog.”

“Cheers to that, pal.”

CLINK.

Daybreak

Handshakes, hugs, homemade jams–the people at the Rancho weren’t shy about how appreciative they are for the help that this ragged company has provided. Some of them may have had reservations when Sage informed them that he was having his wrestler buddies help with the cabin build, but the results were an actual legitimate home with walls and a roof and a chimney.  It’s way more than was there before. It’s a testament. And taking in the work is where Lindsay finds Sage, her bag now laden with handmade tokens of gratitude.  “Gotta admit,” she said with an elbow to his shoulder. “We did alright. And it’s definitely more than habitable.”

To this, Sage shrugs, a bemused smile on his face. “Like I said, it was going to be the house it was going to be. But I’ll say I’m impressed. Even the small things make it feel like a home. You sign the board by the entranceway?”

“Of course. Hey, when’s the baby due? You didn’t say.”

“Stacia has worked as a midwife for a couple of decades, she–”  noticing Troy's momentary look of confusion, he expounds “--tattoo on her neck of a female sign with a fist in the circle, green mohawk–she says we could expect the new consciousness to land in about 60 days maximum.  Even have an inflatable mini pool to use for the water birth.”

“Oh, that’s good. That’ll be easier than trying to get her to the creek,” Lindsay nodded. “If it’s alright with Maven and Elias, I’d like to send them some cloth diapers and other things for the baby.”

“I’m sure they'd gladly accept that. I'm also sure they'd appreciate you asking them directly.”

“I’d like to surprise them, if that’s alright.”

Sage nodded, then his eyes met hers. “Do you feel better about our chances now that we've completed this project?”

“I never doubted our chances, Sage. I never go into a match thinking I’m going to lose.” She thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “But I think you’ve gotten me to come around on group projects.”

He nodded. Solemnly, for a change. “The modern world teaches us that we are islands. That we are not possessing of a…need, I guess, for connection and love and the accomplishments of a group. So much ‘look out for number one.’ Especially in fighting, in combat, because you really are alone when that bell rings. Well, you aren't alone, but your future depends on breaking the only person with any proximity to you. It can be corrosive.”

He pats her on the shoulder. “But if there’s one thing I learned from Paxton, it was this: you don’t have to go it alone. And sometimes, you might even emerge the better for not being so fuckin’ solitary.”

“Pretty wise words from him,” she nodded. “I’m glad he figured that out.” “We all live to dream that one day we will, too.” Sage turned to walk off, but threw a last little bit over his shoulder. “But this is one hell of a step in the right direction.”

Ivan.

Chandler.

Scott.

Bobby.

I don’t know what you motherfuckers did to prepare for this match, but we built a goddamn house. With our bare, goddamn hands. 

We had no blueprints, just crude sketches on scrap paper. We largely flew by the seat of our pants. But we fucking did it.

We built a sturdy, functional, house. 

If we can put our heads together and figure that shit out, you four are totally fucked heading into Culture Shock.

Ivan, I know you have something to prove. Chandler too, but I’ll get to him in a minute. Don’t think I don’t know you’re looking at this as an opportunity. We never got our definitive answer about who can beat whom in a match, and even though I know this isn’t the match you want with me, it’s gonna be the match you’re gonna wish you never got.

I know you’d do anything to see me misstep. I know you’re dying to knock me down a peg, to show your sycophants that I’ve lost a step, that I’m not fit to run PRIME. You don’t hide it. But you should. 

Chan, you and I have some complicated history. Congrats, by the way…you got a second Hall of Fame induction before I did. That’s the only win you have over me, and you should treasure it, because it’s the only one I’m going to let you get. You don't fare so well against me at Culture Shock, after all.

Scott. You wouldn’t be in Vae Victis if we didn’t see all that you are and all that you have the potential to become. But as you know, iron sharpens iron. Training with Kerry has brought you a long way; now, your education continues with me.

As you know, you learn a lot from a loss.

This one will be no different.

Bobby, this is your first PRIME supershow. This is the biggest match of your career. No “arguably.” You’re on a team with two Hall of Famers and a future Hall of Famer. I expect you’ll be on the ballot for 2026 Rookie of the Year. As a man from the stars, are you starstuck at all? Does this phase you? 

Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into by standing across the ring from me?

From us?

You should ask your teammates.

They’ll tell you.