El Primo spun, his mask gleaming. He tapped his heels, his movements mimicking the famous pallbearers. He wasn't just BM-ing (bad-mannering); he was inviting Colt to the final party.
Colt took cover behind a cactus, his fingers twitching over his revolvers. Across the clearing, he saw him: . The massive wrestler was at full health, his purple cape fluttering in the wind, his fists glowing with the energy of a ready Super. El Primo spun, his mask gleaming
Colt stared at the results screen, the tune still stuck in his head. He didn't even care about the lost trophies. He just needed to find that footage. Colt took cover behind a cactus, his fingers
From somewhere across the dunes, a faint, synthesized beat began to thrum. Dun-dun-dun-dun, dun, dun-dun-dun-dun... The infectious rhythm of filled the arena. El Primo’s shoulders began to bounce. Colt stared at the results screen, the tune
The desert sun beat down on the Thousand Lakes map. Smoke was closing in, and only two Brawlers remained.