The AfterBurn opens in a Swedish Suite with “Prince” Otto lounging in a chair while Frik Snackey stands off to the side looking lost in deep concentration. There’s a knock at the door and two sentries open it for another of Otto’s guards.
European Guy: Your Highness, zee…army…is back.
The pause is noticed by Otto and Snackey, causing them to exchange a look before the former nods once.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Send zem in.
Snackey initially smiles confidently. This instantly drops when he sees the pitiful sight that enters the room. Rather than an “army”, it’s a twenty-something number of painted and bruised men and women led by two pink naked rats—only their beaks give away the fact they’re the two talking pigeons Eon Pig and Apocalypse Face, now featherless due to some off-screen shearing done as punishment for betraying Delikado once more. Though bizarre, however, it’s the metal trashcans hanging from everyone’s neck that is the most noticeable feature of this bunch. They all breathe heavily, suggesting their air is being cut off from the tightness of the cans, and Otto motions to one of his guards.
Prince Otto: Let loose zos cans.
Apocalypse Face: Heheh, didja hear him, Eon, sqwak? He was, like, “let loose zos cans” heheheh, sqwak!
Eon Pig jabs his brother in his bony pigeon ribs to silence the chuckle while the garbage cans are cut loose. When everyone is free and gasping in sweet air, Prince Otto leans back in his chair and sighs.
Prince Otto: Well zen…Vat hap—
Frik Snackey: NO!!!
All eyes turn to Snackey who is holding one of the garbage cans upside down, pouring out its contents to reveal various wrapped foodstuffs like out of vending machines. He checks can after can to reveal the same thing: vending machine treats all wrapped and ready for eating. It seems to drive the big man to the brink of insanity as he storms across to Eon Pig and rips him off the ground by the throat.
Frik Snackey: A HUNDRED-PLUS PEOPLE WE SENT WITH YOU, AND YOU BRING BACK NO CUBAN CORPSE, NO ENSLAVED LACKEYS, AND NO REPENTING HIPPIES—JUST GARBAGE CANS FULL OF INNOCENT VEGAN FOOD!!
Prince Otto: Relax, Snackman, vee can still eat zis—
Frik Snackey: IT’S THE <BEEP>ING SYMBOLISM, YOU UN-EDUCATED PRINCLING BITCH! DELIKADO IS SAYING VEGAN FOOD IS TRASH AND DESERVES TO GO INTO THE GARBAGE UNOPENED!! HE KNOWS WHAT THE VEGAN FOOD MEANS TO MY VERY SOUL, AND HE’S SLANDERING IT AND YOU SEEM INCAPABLE OF SEEING THAT—AS
USUAL!!
Prince Otto cocks an eyebrow of disbelief as his “royal” retinue all gasp in shock at the disrespect. Snackey disregards all of that, however, as he turns his deranged focus back to the pigeon he’s gripping in his hand like it’s a Beanie Baby.
Frik Snackey: Tell me what happened—OR I WILL STICK YOU IN ONE OF THESE CANS WITH WEIGHTS AND THROW YOU OUT THAT WINDOW!!!
As the titan points to the suite window behind him, the naked pigeon gasps out a single sentence.
Eon Pig: Delikado wants to fight you, sqwak.
Snackey drops the pigeon and enters some kind of calm trance as he turns to the others.
Frik Snackey: Everyone leave us. NOW!!
Otto narrows his eyes but eventually seems to accept this command as he snaps his fingers and everyone exits the suite, leaving only Snackey and Eon Pig. The previous warpath the FGA food purveyor was on is now replaced by a soothing desire to know more, practically putting him at the mercy of Eon Pig’s every word.
Frik Snackey: The Resistance is lost. The Fam is lost. I don’t even need to watch Revelations to realize that. Gah! I should’ve known they’d be defeated when not ONE of them gave impressions of preparing—no interviews, no side actions to build up, not even blatant assaults…just nothing. Still, perhaps it was always a foregone conclusion. Delikado and Susan Kent are far stronger than I ever gave them credit—perhaps stronger than ANYONE in FGA could have figured. You have nothing to fear from me, little bird. Here, have some peanut brittle…it’s vegan.
He pushes one of the vegan treats from the garbage can on the bird, though Eon Pig isn’t all that interested in it by his slightly disgusted facial expression.
Eon Pig: Uh, thanks, but yo my doctor says I eat TOO mucha the vegan and should cut back, sqwak! That might explain FGA’s crazy champions though—too mucha the vegan in they diet, sqwak! But my man, that greasy Swedish meatball sammich lookin’ fiiiiiiine, sqwak!
Snackey grabs an abandoned sandwich Otto had been eating and holds it to the pigeon.
Frik Snackey: It’s yours *if* you tell me everything—not what I WANT to hear, but what I NEED to hear. Plain speech. What did Delikado say? How were his people looking, Sofia and Ewan and Susan and any others? I need to know what’s happening in FGA.
Eon Pig smirks in relaxation as he hears the desperation creeping into Snackey’s voice, like he knows he’s got the big man by the balls.
Eon Pig: Ehhh, bout that, if I do tell you the facts, does me and my bro Apocalypse Face still got contracts to wrestle there, sqwak? After all, that IS what we want to be about, like you said we should or whatev…sqwak!
Frik Snackey: Yes, yes, of course you do! So tell me……please. Delikado wants to fight me…? How does that work? What did he mean when he said--
Eon Pig interrupts Snackey as he hops onto the sandwich and takes a big bite.
Eon Pig: Chill, foodie fam, Eon Pig gotcha covered on the carrier pigeon messaging know-how, ya know, sqwak? But hey, ya’ll are gonna wanna get me a Sprite or somethin’ to wash this sammich down, sqwak. I gotsta say a lot and ain’t gonna do it on a dry whistle, sqwak!
(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)
Meanwhile, as the night of Revelations draws to a close, it’s a party of lights, sound, and general joy and relief as Delikado’s first official FGA Supershow appearance in a match concludes as an absolute triumph. The Cuban sits seemingly dead to the world as usual, and an empty chair reading “RESERVED FOR SUSAN KENT—ALL OTHER ASSES F OFF!!!” is settled next to him, although it’s not clear whether Miss Kent has actually put in an appearance at the celebration yet. The rest of the gang is there, though, including Delikado’s managers Sofia and Ewan, alongside their trainers and supporters Nut and Pea, as well as the big man Butter who helped lead the charge with his “Butter’s Cup” faction to reclaim Delikado’s wrestling theme park from The Resistance. The park itself resonates in the background as a rather obnoxious prize, but also as a reminder to all FGA fandom that the crypt-worthy coma Cuban is back and has made his mark on the wrestling world once more! One of the partiers sums it up decently well as he staggers drunkenly about the place.
Drunken Partier: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Wrestling finally has a real-life success Cuban in Delikado once agaaaaaain! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!
He proceeds to vomit just off-camera. Everyone else is a bit more contained in their merriment as they enjoy the fruits of their victory, taking time to savor the sweet taste of what Delikado and Susan have soundly won, even as they sample the food platter set out of old fashioned oatmeal, oatmeal with berries, oatmeal with a variety of nuts, oatmeal with apple slices, oatmeal with cinnamon and spices, oatmeal with carrots, oatmeal with grapes and watermelon, oatmeal with honey, oatmeal with a pear on top—lotta oatmeal at this party. Sofia sits picking at a bowl of oatmeal with extra spice mixed in while Ewan feeds their son Hector some of the oatmeal with mashed peas (because babies have no taste).
Sofia Monzón: There has to be some sort of middle ground between our food choices of “greasy, heart-pausing sausage bathed in lard” and “acres of <BEEP>ing oatmeal”.
Ewan Jakeway: Please watch your language, babe, this is a happy event! Anyway, I like it, and so does Hector! Eat up, son, here comes the choo-choo!
The infant smacks the spoon of oatmeal and mashed peas to the floor in total defiance. He then purposely flips the bowl to the ground and on Ewan’s shoes. Sofia smirks in agreement.
Sofia Monzón: Mmhmm, Mama Monzón won’t raise a fool.
She pushes away her own bowl of oatmeal and turns to her client at the center focus of the festivities. People are dancing all around, making the Cuban’s wheelchair-bound stillness all the more noticeable.
Sofia Monzón: Delikado’s an enchanting creature, I’ll give him that. Even though he looks ragged, patched up, torn, shattered, and amateurly pieced together by what flies in wrestling as “modern medicine”, he still somehow always seems to acquire what he sets out for, all while amassing supporters and fans to see him pull it off. The Resistance or The Fam could’ve obliterated him and Susan tonight, or he could’ve been trampled in the parking lot brawl yet there he is.
Ewan finishes cleaning himself up and glances at the withered old man in the chair acquiring all this praise.
Ewan Jakeway: What’s next, you think?
Sofia Monzón: Well, that overeager buffoon did challenge Snackey to some kind of “throw-down” at a later date, but who knows where that’ll lead? FGA-wise…I dunno.
Sofia just sighs and stares aimlessly around the party.
Ewan Jakeway: We’re the managers to a rising…well, “re-rising” might be a better term…a star on its way back to the top. Heck, we’re the managers to a rising star TAG TEAM now! If I may be so bold, the options are practically endless. That is, of course, unless that “old man” element of Delikado’s catches up with him…
Sofia Monzón: Yeah, I was wondering about that myself. He’s been wrestling in FGA since November with, what, five wins so far, undefeated? If Delikado’s story about a “Fountain of Old” and this “Russ Ling” guy is legit with the "win a match, lose a year" angle, he started out at age 100 and should be 95 now—not even an autumn chicken, but I’d think at least SOME kind of change would be apparent. Without that “wrestling ring magic” he still can’t speak or hear--
………………………………
Sofia chuckles.
Ewan Jakeway: What?
Sofia Monzón: Delikado heard us, even over all this noise, and has started bitching. Now he wants to try and “force” a change in his physical status, so he can impress Susan when she arrives for the party.
Ewan Jakeway: How’s he gonna “force” a change?
Cut to the three on top of a moderately large hill over-looking a stream, away from the hubbub of the Revelations celebration. Sofia and Ewan are staring at Delikado in his wheelchair like they’re waiting on something. Several seconds of silence awkwardly pass, eventually driving Sofia to glance at her watch and realize the lateness of the hour. She groans and looks back to Delikado.
Sofia Monzón: Would you hurry up? Some of us don’t sleep half the day and would like to get at least a few hours’ rest before breaking camp to move on!
…………………………………….
Sofia Monzón: You’ve been trying to “evolve” for nearly an hour up here! Either do it, or I’m putting you back in the Poké Ball!
Ewan Jakeway: ….What does that mean? Is that some sort of pop reference kids get and Hillary Clinton botches?
Sofia rubs her temples in building distress.
Sofia Monzón: I, I don’t know. Delikado was spouting it off amongst other garbage and I just yammered it back in my exhausted state AND <BEEP>ING CHANGE NOW!!!
Suddenly, the wind begins to blow and a rumble of thunder echoes throughout the darkened sky. Sofia and Ewan look up at the noticeable difference in the environment as the wind picks up and more lighting forks the mass of clouds building. They look to Delikado as his chair begins to squeak and shift in the breeze. The Cuban looks no different, but at the same time it almost looks like his body is spazzing ever-so-slightly, as if a change is actually trying to “force” its way through his being.
Ewan Jakeway: I…I think he’s doing it, Sofia!
A rumbling of a different nature causes the Cuban and his Game of Thrones wheelchair to tremble upon the hill, as nature starts to go crazy all around the trio almost to the point of danger.
Sofia Monzón: Maybe we should leave…
Tears welling in his eyes, Ewan grips Sofia’s hand with emotion and points to Delikado.
Ewan Jakeway: No! Let’s witness this! Delikado’s evolving! Hahahaha!
The shakes are impossible to miss as a practical earthquake rocks the area. Hurricane force winds are billowing all around, knocking the managers to their knees. Lightning is striking pretty close to the ground around Delikado who is vibrating like a dildo on crack with accompanying shivers and an overdose of Energizer batteries. The crescendo builds and builds and builds until…………!
Delikado gives the tiniest hop out of his chair, lurches forward, and rolls down the hill like a dead fish, splashing into the stream where he lays facedown unmoving. Nature instantly returns to normal and it’s like nothing happened.
Ewan Jakeway: …………………………..Oh.
Sofia Monzón: …*sigh* Get the chair.
Ewan pushes the wheelchair down as Sofia takes her time descending the hill.
Ewan Jakeway: B-But the nature and stuff!
A farmer happens to walk by at that moment and butts into the chat.
Farmer: This is Florida, boy. We got random seconds of hell weather, then it’s like ya never even knew it happened. It’s practically tradition!
Sofia Monzón: Cool, thank you.
Farmer: Hey ya’ll wanna buy a speedboat full of drugs then sit it on your neighbor’s lawn all summer? That’s also a Florida tradition!
Sofia Monzón: We’ll pass on that.
Farmer: Suit yourself.
Sofia kneels down to Delikado, scanning the old man over for any remote changes as he probably drowns in less than a foot of water. Nothing.
……………………………………
Sofia Monzón: I know, I know, big cat. Maybe at the next Supershow.
She gives her best “it’ll be okay” pat to the Cuban’s back, though from her it almost looks like mocking, and the pair place Delikado back into his wheelchair. As they march back to the party, Butter appears and nods to our solemn Cuban “hero” (ehhhhh).
Butter: I seen the whole thing with ya boyo. Perhaps not thisae time, but when ye change does come, ye be right battle lord to see, ya ken?
On that note, the group returns to celebrate the last lights of the post-Revelations party, and then it’s on to new things in FGA. Maybe, as Sofia said, by the next Supershow, Delikado will be able to change or “evolve” from SUPER OMEGA Old Man Deli to, like, SUPER MEGA Old Man Deli. For now, the camera pulls back and fades out…
…And promptly explodes back in to a different hill not unlike the one we were just at, where Frik Snackey is standing, imprinting a dramatic scene on our mind.
Frik Snackey: You wish to fight me, Delikado? I hear you out there, infesting the lands of my FGA with your filth. Know that I am Frik Snackey, purveyor of food and now protector of Frontier Grappling Arts, he who keeps this business alive through alternative vegan lifestyle. You will not claim this company as another highlight of success in your career, only as the endnote. To you I say right here—the golden alumni of FGA are about to push back! Only the strong survive!
He rips open a vegan snack, a cookie of some sort, and shoves it into his mouth, chewing with determination as he points to the horizon with his right hand.
Cut back one more time to Delikado in his wheelchair. Though he’s still grey as grey can be, wrinkly as wrinkly ever was, and comatose as much as the next guy who’s comatose, he still looks like he’s trying to be dramatic in his own way. We zoom in toward his right hand, where suddenly his pinky finger arcs up slowly and points forward, totally erect and veiny, toward the horizon! Cut to black.
