PROMO: 'Blast From The Past'

[Toxxic 0]

“Kibagami?”

 

The word is pronounced quite specifically. It sounds like it should be picked up with industrial-grade tongs and dropped into an incinerator, but there is also an overtone of disbelieving scepticism that implies fault or lunacy at the source of the problem. The source of that problem is Tom Flesher, and the person with the problem is - as if there could be any doubt - Toxxic.

 

“Yes Toxxic, Kibagami,” Flesher replies, casually sparking up a Camel not just for a nicotine fix, but also to hopefully deter his visitor and get him to leave a little quicker. Toxxic just narrows his eyes, and the Superior One continues, “you’re as perceptive as ever, but shall I assume you had a purpose in mind behind this visit apart from naming newly re-signed wrestlers?”

 

“Why? Tom, why?” Toxxic asks, settling down into the chair in front of the Commissioner’s desk. “Drake wasn’t your idea, I accept that because I was busy beating your arse in active competition when he was signed.”

 

“You did-”

 

“Twice,” the straight-edger clarifies, examining his nail polish. “Danny, on the other hand, that was definitely your handiwork. A desperate move to try and spike a buyrate for a Pay-Per-View that you knew wouldn’t draw shit without me in some high profile match, and you couldn’t find Janus for me. When Williams choked against me, and then choked against Johnny of all people, and then finally failed to turn up against Jimmy The Freakin’ Doom, I thought you’d learned your lesson. But no, you run wailing back to the past like a toddler to his comfort blanket in the hope that some roided-up star from the ‘Golden Age’ can save this ailing vehicle it pleases us to call a wrestling company.”

 

“Are you done?” Flesher asks acidly.

 

“For the moment.”

 

“Danny spiked a buyrate,” Flesher tells the straight-edger, “and I have every faith that it was as much his doing as yours, and a strong main event, because the crowd likes Landon and everyone loved to hate Drake.” He straightens some paperwork on his desk. “Danny thinks he’s the Saviour of Wrestling, and he can’t stand being proved wrong more than once or twice in the same year, so off he went. A pity, but there you go.” The Superior One looks up and fixes Toxxic with a stare. “Kibagami is under no such illusions. He is here to hurt some people and get paid for it, and I will get any use I can out of him. Nostalgia pop, badass that the crowd will pay to see, merchandise shifter, figure of hatred that everyone wants to see taken out… I don’t care what role he fulfils, and as long as he’s getting paid I’m fairly sure he doesn’t either. Bottom line, he will be good for business, at least for a while, and that’s why he’s here.” A faint smile quirks Flesher’s lips. “Why, are you scared?”

 

“Ha!” Toxxic barks a laugh, “me? Scared? Of Kibagami? Do us a favour Tom. Three years ago, yeah, I’d have been scared,” the Englishman admits, “or apprehensive, at any rate. Now?” He grins, and leans back in the chair. “He hasn’t wrestled anywhere in three years, and believe me, I’d have heard if he had. He’s old, he’ll be out-of-shape physically, he’ll have so much ring rust he’ll squeak when he moves.” Toxxic spreads his hands and shrugs. “What’s there to be afraid of? Putting me in the ring with Kibagami wouldn’t be a ratings-winner Tom, it’d be an embarrassment. And that’s assuming he even shows up. Personally,” the straight-edger continues, “I’ve got fifty quid on at Ladbrookes that he doesn’t make it to the arena to face Sly tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, Sly,” Flesher says, scribbling something down on his notepad, “I notice that your little Revolution is growing again Toxxic. Surrounding yourself with more incompetents in the hope of making yourself look better?” he asks with a thin smile.

 

“Oh, please,” Toxxic groans, “you rate Jakey. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

 

“OK, Jakey I’ll grant you,” Flesher concedes, “the kid’s got some talent, even if he is sartorially-challenged. But Austin Sly?”

 

“Mainstream crossover due to his music career,” Toxxic tells the Commissioner, “you know Sly brings some of his groupies back to the fed as an audience every time he returns. That’s good for business.”

 

“Maybe,” Flesher replies, “but-”

 

“-and don’t forget the music,” Toxxic adds, “he wrote the Storm theme tune, or did you forget? And half the music in the latest SWF video game was done by him. And you know we get the rights to that stuff cheap because of our ‘special working relationship’ with him.”

 

Flesher glowers at the straight-edger, wondering when Toxxic got so clued up on the business side of things. “OK, so that’s true,” he agrees reluctantly, “but it doesn’t change the fact that he sucks as a wrestler, and you know it.”

 

“Oh?” Toxxic replies. “I count a tag win with me over JRR and Insane Luchador, and a three-way at 13th Hour where he neither submitted nor was pinned.”

 

“He also didn’t win it,” Flesher points out.

 

“So give him a one-on-one rematch and find out what he can do,” Toxxic shrugs, “oh, and don’t even start with me about Mike Cross. We’re always hearing about how the roster’s too small, so I go and bring back a guy who was on the verge of breaking out a couple of times, and no doubt you want to moan at me about it or make some sort of patronising comment.”

 

“Do you even need me to do that?” Flesher asks, reaching for his bourbon.

 

“Don’t worry Tom, I haven’t finished with the Revolution yet,” Toxxic assures the Superior One, rising out of his chair. “I’ve still got plans in the works, and I don’t think you’ll be able to have any complaints about them. Don’t worry.” He turns to go, closing the office door behind him and leaving Flesher with the bourbon glass still halfway to his mouth.

 

“I hate it when he tells me not to worry…” Flesher mutters.

[Guest WhollyChao]

Very nice promo.

 

Sets up a few things very nicely.

 

I enjoy Toxxic and Flesher's relationship. Like how an ex-girlfriend interacts with your current girl.

 

I hope to see more of it in the future.

 

 

[Secret Agent 0]

ANOTHER member for Revolution Zero? This thing is going to be bigger than Jesus!

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

It might even be bigger than Oasis!

[Toxxic 0]

Please, I beg you, never compare anything I do to Oasis.

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

Bigger than the Spice Girls? They are, as I understand, a damned sight bigger than Oasis...

[Toxxic 0]

Go back ten years and you might be right.