Gimmick Battle Royal

[Cid]

“I’m sorry, but the gimmick just isn’t working.”


It wasn’t the first time Carnage had heard those words. It seems like it was all he ever heard since his retirement from professional wrestling. It was the first time heʼd heard it courtesy of a used car salesman inside a drab office, however.

“I see,” Carnage said, straightening his mask.

When the local car dealership offered him a chance, Carnage thought it was his second coming. When he joined SCW, they were nothing more than a promotion just trying to make their mark upon thrusting themselves into the wrestling business. This dealership was no different. A struggling branch in a saturated business. They just needed some people to really make them stand out.

Who better than a man in a mask?

While his mask was usually used to put the fear into the heart of his opponents, Carnage saw this as an opportunity to use it for good. The Masked Salesman. It just had that special ring to it, just like Carnage did back in the early 2000s.

The same foundation that SCW found itself on almost twenty years later was the same foundation that Carnage helped build. This masked salesman gimmick—this is what would help prop up this dealership for the next twenty years.

Or that was the dream, at least.

“It was worth a shot,” the boss said. “We really appreciate you reaching out and offering your, uh…celebrity status. It was really noble of you to try and help us out like that, plus pretty brave for you to put yourself out there, what with your deformed face and all.”

“My face isn’t deformed.”

“Huh? But…you got that mask on.”

“Oh, it’s just part of the character,” Carnage explained. “I’m actually quite normal underneath.”

“Then…why don’t you ever take it off?”

“Because that’s part of the business. The gimmick only dies when you die.”

“Oh, right. I understand,” the boss lied.

“That being said, thank you for appreciating my bravery, but I’ve taken down the likes of Acid Burn and Masquerade over the years, sir, so something like putting my face to a sales campaign may be an act of noble bravery to the average man, but it’s just another day for yours truly.”

“Again, zero idea as to what any of that means. I mean, Acid Burn? Masquerade? And—no offense, but—Carnage? You sound like a bunch of superheroes.”

“Thank you,” Carnage said while flashing a smile through the small opening of his mask.

“It wasn't a compliment,” the boss flatly responded. “Listen, can I give you some advice?”

“Uh…sure.”

“Ditch the ‘gimmick.’ You’ve got a way with words—”

“Masquerade said I talked too much.”

“—but when people see the mask, it’s all they can think about. It doesn’t help that you’re huge, either…but you seem like a good guy who can talk people into a building. Just…you gotta kill the gimmick, man. It’s not working.”

Carnage was almost seven feet tall and was still in decent enough shape in his age to stand up to anyone, just like he did all those years ago against people like Nitro and City Boy, or even Mono Loco.

But it was this used car salesman—with his pot belly sticking out of his cheap, tiny suit—that made Carnage feel as small as Jay Gold. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It wasn’t because what he was saying was rude. It was because what he was saying was true.

“Thank you for your advice,” Carnage said, lumbering out of his chair and straightening his suit, which, in retrospect, maybe clashed with his mask. “Good luck with your business, sir.”

With that, Carnage made his way out of the office, through the rows of used cars, and back into the real world—a real world that hadn’t been kind to him over the last twenty years. The mask was supposed to give him the life he couldn’t obtain underneath it, but it seemed that life had passed him by on both sides of the track.

But then, a phone rang.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he didn’t recognize the number. His first thought was that his AARP application must have gone through, which would have been some great news on a day that he desperately needed it. Heart full of hope, he answered the call.

“Hello, this is Carnage.”

“Still living the gimmick, huh?”

“Who’s this?”

“Franklin Mack,” the voice answered, “VP of Talent Relations at SCW.”

Carnage’s mind raced. SCW? They hadn’t called him since the day his contract expired, not even for the sake of a nostalgia pop. Apparently, he wasn’t important enough to SCW’s history to warrant that.

But that begged the question as to why they were calling now.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Mack?”

“First off, I hope you’re well,” said Franklin, not knowing that Carnage was seconds removed from an identity crisis. “The reason I’m calling is because Rise to Greatness is coming up, as you may know.”

“You need me?!” Carnage blurted out while trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “Video game deal? Producer tryout? Facing a new masked wrestler in a passing-of-the-torch moment?!”

“No, not exactly. It’s a battle royal-type deal.”

“Like Taking Hold of the Flame? For a title shot?!”

“Oh, God, no,” Franklin laughed. Carnage had no idea why he found that question so absurd.

“Well, what’s the reason for it?”

“Just a thing for alumni—”

“Like a reunion show?”

“No, fresh blood is welcome, too. It’s more like—”

“A best-of battle royal?”

“Not really,” Franklin sighed. “How do I put this?” 

Pins and needles. Carnage waited. This was his chance to get back in the game. He just needed an opportunity better suited to him, not some car salesman gig.

“It’s more of a gimmick thing,” Franklin finally said. “Now, I know how that sounds—”

“It sounds perfect,” Carnage interrupted.

The gimmick was working once again.