Turnbuckle Manor.
It has been a tense aftermath of the events of the August 5th edition of Championship Wrestling from Nashville. The Allied Powers haven’t been very “allied” in the time since. Neither man speaking to each other and both staying in their respective areas of the manor for a solid week.
Or rather Turnbuckle stayed in his section, while Danger bunkered down in the “grand banquet hall” (which really was just a larger than usual dining hall). The American hero was barely heard from and refused to let anyone enter. At best Matilda would leave a tray of food that would be snatched rapidly through the smallest crack made in the opened doors and then put back out later.
Even “The All-American Girl” Stacy Brooks can’t get through to him. Finally having enough, Stacy demands George bust the door down. Which of course, a proper British butler could never do, so he gets a burly member of the grounds maintenance (also named George) to shoulder the door open.
“The All-American Girl”: *facepalms* Bloody Christ, Marcus.
The room is darkened save for an old style movie projector that seems to continually be playing the events of the show on a back wall. How Snake Malone opened the show, the confrontation with Nelson Hammer during their interview with Lance Gordon, and the events of Gauntlet for the Gold.
“The All-American Girl”: Someone turn on a bloody light!
Matilda does so and all are shocked to see the room’s transformation.
Scribbled along the walls in red Sharpie are “SNAAAAAKE!!!!” “HAMMER… AND SICKLE!” “TRAITORS!”
Matilda: M’lord will be most displeased…
They then take note of Danger, sitting atop the dining room table, dressed in a BT robe, but a more dirtied and dingy one, muttering and mumbling as he stares at the replayed scenes. All around him are hastily scribbled notes on various legal pads, post-it notes, even napkins and the dining table cloth itself.
“The All-American Girl”: He’s really lost it this time. And how the bloody hell did he get a movie projector for the last show? It was all digitally recorded!
As she cautiously approaches Danger, the man, unshaven and hair messy, snaps alert as if brought from a haze.
“Danger”: It’s so clear!
Rushing over to one wall where he’s got endless printed out photos connected by push pins and twine, he shuffles a few pictures together. Looking like a mafia R.I.C.O. investigation board… or a conspiracy theorist’s board… he puts Snake Malone and Nelson Hammer’s pictures dead in the middle of the second tier.
The pins and twines from their pictures lead to pictures at the top tier of Xi Jinping, Mohammed bin Salman, and of course… Vladimir Putin.
“Danger”: Snake Malone is an agent not of Russia, but of the Saudi Crown Prince! Green flag, likes to behead people like a snake… IT ALL MAKES SENSE!
“The All-American Girl”: Danger…
Danger continues right along as he jams a finger at the picture of Nelson Hammer.
“Danger”: And Nelson Hammer. I can’t believe I missed it. Hammer? As in HAMMER AND SICKLE?! The old Soviet flag! He’s ex-KGB! Putin was ex-KGB! HE’S PUTIN’S RIGHT HAND!
Stacy just blinks and shakes her head.
That is… until she sees an unnerving, unsettling vicious look on Danger’s face. With a seriousness she’s never seen before.
“Danger”: They embarrassed us at the last show. Embarrassed me. Snake conned the American people into believing me, a Great American hero… is a villain.
It’s an intensity that Stacy hasn’t seen as he drives an angry fist into the picture of Snake Malone’s face.
“Danger”: How hard I’ve worked to be a paragon of patriotism! How hard I’ve struggled and toiled, traveling the world, representing America and its values. All around my military commitments of top-secret missions…AND THIS IS HOW THEY TREAT ME!?
Realizing he’s losing his cool, Danger takes a deep breath, exhaling it out as he stares at the pictures and points then to Nelson Hammer.
“Danger”: I understand now. Snake Malone is just the flunky paid well by the Saudis to do the bidding of his Russian handler. Nelson Hammer isn’t his real name. It’s a code name. He’s clearly an agent of Putin who seeks to further undermine our unity as a people. And Xi Jinping sits from the shadows, orchestrating the whole thing from the Forbidden City!
“The All-American Girl”: Danger? The Forbidden City is just a tourist attraction now. They don’t actually rule China from…
However, she halts her explanation as Danger’s eyes turn toward her and there’s a cold, grim determination.
“Danger”: I warned Hammer he was on the Most Wanted List. But now? He’s now on the Blacklist.
Matilda: Wasn’t that an American telly?
Stacy holds her hand up as she sees that Danger is clearly in a volatile circumstance.
“The All-American Girl”: Danger? Murder isn’t a good idea…
Danger bursts into laughter and looks at Stacy like she’s said something fully ridiculous.
“Danger”: Murder? *waves dismissively* I am not some cheap thug like those Ruskies. No. I will beat them at their own game.
Danger points to a print out of the Joker’s Wild tournament.
“Danger”: This Joker’s Wild Cup? I see through it. A tournament to weaken strong Americans and make sure their agents make the final. Conveniently Snake and his Russian goon, Tannehill will make it I suspect. Or…
Danger stares at the tournament bracket more.
“Danger”: Jackobin and Warner? Malachi and VLADISLAV?! THERE’S MULTIPLE FOREIGN AGENTS!
Slamming his fist against the wall, Danger realizes just how insidious the conspiracy is. Giving another huff and calm, he composes himself. Straightening his wrinkled, food and drink and other odd stained bathrobe.
“Danger”: They’ll still fail. I’m on to them now. No more Mr. Kind and Jolly Danger. No more “Clark Kent”. At Joker’s Wild?
Danger strikes his heroic pose.
“Danger”: These foreign agents and terrorists will learn there’s more than one way to serve up Memphis barbecue.
There’s an intense malice in his features as he clenches a fist and looks toward Matilda.
“Danger”: That is… if your “M’lord”. Isn’t so much a coward as last time. Self-eliminating himself?
Danger sneers in disgust.
“Danger”: He’s got more yellow going down his back than a freshly paved and striped highway.
At this very moment, Sir Boliver Turnbuckle’s eyes were in fact gazing upon freshly paved and striped road surfaces. The streets of his colony shall not have potholes. Unlike his road in SWF, these will be pristine and properly oriented.
Turnbuckle: Just look at it, George! Behold what happens when these stupid Yanks step back and allow proper British leadership to repair the damage they’ve done to themselves!
George stands so stiffly he’d be mistaken for a mannequin if he didn’t respond to Turnbuckle.
“George”: Very good, m’lord.
Turnbuckle swipes the app closed on his brand new phone and strides through his regal study towards the balcony. The sun has risen, casting its golden rays down upon a land that should be thankful for his enlightened leadership. He dramatically pushes the swinging doors outwards and steps out onto the balcony where, conveniently, there’s a hot cup of tea awaiting him.
Turnbuckle: Ah, just as it should be. You’ve done well, George.
“George”: Thank you, m’lord.
He holds the cup and saucer up, rethinking that last thought. This whole nation should be grateful for his gentlemanly example. August 5 in Nashville said the reality was quite the opposite. His hand shakes with fury as he replays the night’s events in his mind; the ever eagle-eyed butler catches sight of the tremor.
“George”: Is something the matter, Lord Turnbuckle?
Turnbuckle sneers at the very question.
Turnbuckle: Is something the matter? Is something THE MATTER?
He takes a very angry sip of tea, glaring over at George.
Turnbuckle: OF COURSE something’s the BLOODY matter! I deigned to grace the stinking landfill that is SWF with my regal presence and how have I been treated?! NO, it wasn’t enough for that broken down vagrant Bedlam to steal MY spotlight. It wasn’t enough that they allowed that ruffian Snake Malone to run his ignorant mouth for FAR too long at the beginning of the show! They’ve poisoned the entire company against me! Every man jack in that locker room has refused to acknowledge MY superiority as an Englishman and simply ALLOWED that fool Malone to attempt homicide upon my person! How am I, a nobleman of the highest station, supposed to accept the fact that Nelson Hammer has decided his first and greatest champion is deserving of such treatment?
Some of the tea spills out over the edge of the cup and Geroge looks as though he’s wondering if he should clean it up.
George: It’s truly unfair, m’lord.
Turnbuckle shakes his head.
Turnbuckle: It’s more than that, George. It’s a grave insult that shall not go unpunished!
He steadies his hand, takes another sip of the delicious British tea and then nods knowingly to George.
Turnbuckle: I have restrained myself thus far out of respect for the gentlemen’s agreement I presumed existed with Hammer when I signed that contract. He has allowed the filthy peasants to call for my blue blood - no, allowed the inmates to run the asylum and put my well being at risk. Now with this ridiculous ‘Joker’s Wild’ event he threatens to rip away one of the crowns that’s mine by right? By setting the entire roster against me, he’s forced me to accept this is total war. And I shall NOT allow him to undo what I accomplished.
He scoffs at the very thought of the peasants calling for his blood. George leans forward, holding a hand towel out in an attempt to clean up the tea spillage.
Turnbuckle: He may call it an SWF tradition, but it will be the undoing of his preferred talents. All of them thrown into chaos, paired with an idiot they have nothing in common with. After all of these slapdash jokes of teams go all out against each other to advance in the tournament, whomever is left barely standing is in for a rude surprise. A tradition, you might say.
He suddenly drops the tea cup and saucer, letting them shatter into tiny pieces on the ground as George watches crestfallen.
Turnbuckle: When fools think they can best the British with their conniving plots, they always find that we British obliterate their pathetic hopes. Britain will prevail. Turnbuckle will prevail. And whoever survives long enough to face the Allied Powers in the main event shall be shattered into irreparable shards like that cup.
He grins evilly at the notion.
George: And if one of the men left standing is Snake Malone, m’lord?
Turnbuckle sneers at the man’s name, then waves off the question.
Turnbuckle: He’s full of hot air. The man can make all the impassioned speeches he likes, it doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t deserve to be in the same ring as me. That’s why I refused to engage with Snake. Garbage doesn’t deserve to bask in the presence of nobility. Besides, Mark has been such a useful servant in my cause. I’m sure he’ll do his duty again when the time comes. After all, he sees enemies of his nation everywhere and I’m certain he’ll do whatever he must to neutralize the threats.
He begins to stroll back inside, his desire for tea vanished with the terrible taste Snake Malone leaves.
Turnbuckle: Oh, and do clean that up. It’s YOUR duty.
George stares down at the cup and hesitates.
Turnbuckle: Well, get on with it!
George: M’lord, my duties for the day require me elsewhere - as you ordered.
Turnbuckle: FINE. Have one of the other Georges clean it up! I can’t be bothered with such trifles.
He storms off with heavy footsteps, leaving one of his team of Georges to determine how to clean up the Lord of the Ring’s mess.
As Turnbuckle eventually made his way to the dining room, he would see the horror that his “grand banquet hall” had been turned into. However before he could say a word, Danger storms up and is in his face.
“Danger”: I was going with your so-called “plan” and typical of a Brit, it spectacularly backfired! They -booed- us! Booed the team that should be the shining examples to the world! THE ALLIED POWERS WERE BOOED!
Danger then gives a Thunderin’ Terry Marshall finger point.
“Danger”: AND YOU! You made it worse! Self-eliminating yourself? How lily-livered! My Great Uncle Buford used to say “No one makes Sheriff Buford T. Justice look like a possum’s pecker!” but you did it! And damn well!
Shaking his head in utter dismay, Danger paces back and forth.
“Danger”: A hero needs strong, resilient, committed allies. Right now? I’d trust one of the Georges over you, pal!
Turnbuckle stands there half mortified at the transformation of his banquet hall, half trembling in fury at his teammate’s accusations. At the very suggestion of a common servant being more trustworthy than himself, Turnbuckle snarls. His stiff British upper lip wavers and he folds his arms defiantly over his chest.
Turnbuckle: That’s quite enough of your baseless accusations, “Danger”. Or should I say, MARK?! You haven’t even inquired as to why I did what I did. Bandying about such paltry theories doesn’t suit an American hero, and you know it. You’re so focused on the outcome of one measly event that you can’t see the forest for the trees. You want to know what that was?
He glances over at the fraught tapestry of growing madness Danger has constructed and suddenly has an idea.
Turnbuckle: It was part of a greater plan. Your passions were so high that you saw only that one moment. Yet as you’ve already discovered the entire SWF is against us! Every last one of the scalawags, highwaymen and con-men in that locker room is marching to the beat of someone else’s drum. We saw that when they split apart to allow that French bastard to attack us. Danger, we proved what determination and freedom can accomplish when we won these titles.
He frowns as he waves to the conspiracy board.
Turnbuckle: All of them are part of this, Danger. All of them wish to steal what we rightfully won in the name of democracy! We must be at our strongest to defend these titles. Faced with the threat of an entire roster plotting to weaken us ahead of our next defense, I had no choice but to preserve myself for the storm to come. Sadly it does seem that they have brainwashed the people attending the shows - or are they perhaps plants of this nefarious conspiracy?
He sighs dramatically and looks to Danger.
Turnbuckle: At Joker’s Wild, all of the enemies foreign and domestic are fighting for the chance to prove that our values are meaningless, Danger. I will stand firmly by mine, and by my courageous American ally. The question is whether you’re prepared to do the same-
The George closest to Turnbuckle suddenly jumps to life as a cell phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, stares at the screen and then tugs on Turnbuckle’s sleeve.
Turnbuckle: What?! What is so important that you interrupt my heart to heart with my closest ally?
“George”: A call m’lord. From Ontario.
Turnubckle shoots him a dirty look.
Turnbuckle: LATER.
As the butler steps away, Turnbuckle looks back at his partner.
Turnbuckle: As I was saying - will you stand for freedom, or will you let the terrorists win?
Danger looks incensed as he jabs a finger into Turnbuckle’s chest.
Danger: Don’t -ever- doubt a great American’s resolve to stand for freedom! I don’t care if it’s Gargan, Hollywood, Storm, Malachi, Hooker, or anyone else. If they’re a no good, rotten terrorist bastard? Or at the least, aiding and abetting that French bastard Snake Malone and his BRICS masters?
Danger strikes a heroic pose… despite his dingy, unkempt appearance. Holding a fist before Turnbuckle.
Danger: Then at Joker’s Wild they will answer to the Hand of Justice… AMERICAN Justice.
Turnbuckle nods silently as if in awe of his partner’s patriotic determination. When he happens to meet Stacy’s eyes, he shoots her an accusatory glare as Danger’s descent to madness is somehow her fault. As she sighs in exasperation, Matilda offers her a wine bottle and produces two glasses. Meanwhile Turnbuckle steps up to his partner and offers a parliamentary clap.
Turnbuckle: THERE’S the Danger I know. A true American hero who won’t let one momentary setback discourage him from doing what’s necessary to protect truth and justice.
He stops a couple feet away from Danger as the man’s unwashed scent assaults his refined nostrils.
Turnbuckle: WIth that being said allow me to ask you this, Danger. Our enemies are ruthless, without morals and determined to humiliate us in front of the entire world. They are so determined to steal the gold we won with our ingenuity, cunning and bravery that they’ll even accept Hammer’s preposterous random team format just for the chance to dethrone us. Are you prepared to defend our place at the top of SWF by any means necessary?
He nods suggestively to the conspiracy board as he concludes.
Turnbuckle: From everything you’ve discovered, I’m certain you understand how serious the threat is. We must employ unrestricted, total warfare to ensure that our values of freedom, liberty and democracy are not ripped to shreds. Can I count on American might to save the day?
Danger seems to have finally bought the con as he hears less about defending their “place” atop SWF and more about defending AMERICA by any means necessary. A scowl comes on his face along with a “Clint Eastwood” clenching snarl as he shoves his hand forward.
“Danger”: You're goddamn right I am.
Regardless of the specific reason, Turnbuckle grins in savage satisfaction at his partner’s focused insanity. All the better to serve the Crown with. Turnbuckle’s crown.
Turnbuckle: Then it’s settled. Twenty-eight of the most vicious, freedom-hating lowlifes and villains in the world have jumped into the pool for a chance to defame us and our nations. Twenty-eight of them shall leave Nashville humiliated, broken and begging to be forgiven for challenging us. It will be a difficult fight. I can’t promise you anything but blood, sweat, tears and toil, Danger. Whoever stands against us, we’ll fight them in the ring, we’ll fight them in the bleachers, we’ll fight them in the parking lot and behind the Waffle House.
“The All American Girl”: Oh for fuck’s sake, now he’s pulling out Churchill?!
Turnbuckle places a hand firmly on his partner’s shoulder and nods emphatically to him, trying to instill him with the power to take all the punishment in this upcoming match in Turnbuckle’s place.
Turnbuckle: Free men never surrender. The Allied Powers shall prevail, and we shall leave the broken, mangled, mess of our opponents in a burning dumpster where they belong.
Turnbuckle holds his arms out dramatically, imagining holding a belt in either hand.
Turnbuckle: The two of us standing tall, holding aloft the gold as a shining symbol of our achievement? That shall be the ultimate victory over that ghoul Hammer, his goons, and all of the idiots who believe themselves superior to us.
Danger’s phone rings and it immediately transfers to the large screen TV on the wall opposite of his “investigative” wall. The Admiral appears. Looking frantic and relieved.
The Admiral: Danger! Thank all that is holy! We just got word that Putin’s Chef was assassinated! His plane shot from the sky!
The Admiral pauses and smirks.
The Admiral: Guess he won’t be “cooking” any more wars for that bald bastard, hah!
The Admiral is pleased at his pun and continues on as he gets serious.
The Admiral: I got your report though. To think… Nelson Hammer… my once beloved idol… is a goddamn Ruskie!
“The All-American Girl”: Wait… Marcus just had that psychotic “revelation” just minutes ago! How could you have received a report?
The Admiral: *smiles* I had the CIA install monitoring devices all over that manor. You think I trust a goddamn Limey with America’s Hero?!
The Admiral glances at Turnbuckle.
The Admiral: No offense, son. Also, we had our scientists and spies check. Stacy’s are real and they’re SPECTACULAR.
Stacy immediately looks horrified, humiliated, and furious as she glowers at Turnbuckle. The Admiral just continues on.
The Admiral: But if there’s this many evil foreign agent scum in SWF? It means we have to take all advanced security measures! No more flying! For all we know, godless snakes like… well… Snake… Malone might have infiltrated the military and airline systems! I don’t trust them Jonny Jackobin and Charlie Hooker fellers either!
The Admiral grins as he holds up an index finger.
The Admiral: Which is why I cooked up a special gift with a little help from your sponsor Buck Masters’ RV & Tour Bus business… and some friends at MI:13.
Matilda: Don’t y’mean MI:6, sir?
The Admiral: *scoffs* MI:6? They’re pansies compared to MI:13! A super-super secretive branch!
A loud horn makes the very walls of the manor shake as The Admiral claps his hands.
The Admiral: Good! It’s there already! Go out there and see it my boy! It’s your new roving ops command center. Loaded with weapons, ballistic armor, sat-nav links, and all the amenities needed for an American hero. I call it…
A dramatic pause as the call’s camera zooms in on The Admiral’s face.
The Admiral: The Danger Express.
Unable to help his curiosity, Danger leads the group outside the manor. And immediately is thankful for his shades as he hasn’t seen the sun and hisses in reaction. Especially due to the bright shine coming off the monstrous tour bus now polished and parked in the driveway. Its bottom half is a polished silver that practically acts like a mirror with how clear it shows their reflections. While the top half? Why of course it’s decorated in the American flag.
Danger looks verklempt for a moment as a tear streaks from behind his shades.
“Danger”: It’s… beautiful.
A drone flies from the top of the bus and projects a holographic image of The Admiral.
The Admiral: Right? This baby is rated to take a goddamn ICBM direct hit and keep rolling!
“The All-American Girl”: *eyerolls and mutters* Like any foreign power would bother wasting a missile on these two idiots…
The Admiral: That kind of negative dismissal was said by Prigozhin, and where’s he now, huh?! What about Amelia Earhart?!
Stacy pauses and checks on her phone who Amelia Earhart is via Wikipedia.
“The All-American Girl”: This says she wasn’t even involved in a war and just got lost and no one knows her true fate!
The Admiral: *smirks* That’s what the Commie bastards want you to think!
As The Admiral explains the secret gun emplacements, near indestructible tires, and other “Bond doodads”, the Allied Powers move inside. The interior is incredibly luxurious and spacious around all the secret government technology and command console at the center.
Or at least Danger’s compartment is. Decked out with all the expectations for an American hero. Stacy has her own personal suite as well with full privacy for a lady and fine silk bedding and a bathing area.
Turnbuckle?
Well… he gets a small corner with a minor fold out sofa cot and small desk with a tea set.
Turnbuckle: Bollocks.
He then thinks of the crowns he must keep at any cost, and the useful idiot whom he’s got wrapped around his finger. When he’s sure he’s alone, Turnbuckle sighs and consoles himself.
Turnbuckle: By any. Means. Necessary. Let Mark have his moment. As long as Hammer and his bloody peasants bend the knee and proclaim ‘God Save the King’, it’s worth it. They WILL NOT take my crowns. And if Mark’s body is atop that heap of battered peasants? So be it.
