Wow, this team is awesome

I didn't hear Ashley's hand hit the mat.

I didn't hear the bell sound.

I didn't even hear the crowd at first.

The first thing I saw when I came to, was The Anglo Luchador standing over me with his arms raised in victory.

Then I realized the muffled sound I could hear was coming from the crowd.

His hometown crowd.

That's when it all came together.

That's when I realized the ugly truth.

I lost.

I wanted to unlace my boots right then and there, take the damn things off and head back to his locker room.

But these idiot fans would probably get the wrong idea and think he's retiring, when he just wants to get rid of whatever the hell has been stuck in there and bothering him the entire match.

Though the thought of stealing the spotlight from TAL was tempting.

Instead, I rolled out of the ring and hobbled my way up the ramp.

I don't know what the hell is in my boot, but it may be more of a pain right now than TAL has been since I returned to PRIME.

He's going to be even more insufferable now that he beat me.

Five dollars richer too.

Damn Colton’s.

Maybe I'll stay away from Jabber for a while.

Yeah, that's probably what I'll do.

=-=-=-=-=

I have no idea what the hell I got myself into.

Survivor…

It sounded simple, the perfect opportunity to win a Universal title shot, because all I had to do was survive.

Being the cockroach of PRIME will finally come in handy.

Or so I thought.

Now I think I may have made a mistake.

The scent of pine trees was so overwhelming, I could have sworn I was raiding pic-a-nic baskets with Yogi and Boo Boo in the center of Jellystone Park. Instead, I'm sitting in the back of a Lyft on the way to an Airbnb as the lyrics of drop-dead by Olivia Rodrigo attack my eardrums like they're trying to take control of the capital.

It makes the drive feel longer than it actually is, which may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

I'm in no hurry to get to my destination.

No hurry to walk through a door and come face to face with my housemates for the next few months.

If I'm not the first one voted out, that is.

Oh the joy of being Tony Gamble, the grin everyone loves to hate.

I'm not even expecting side eyes or whispers from the rest of the members of Tribe Snow, not when the goal is to win every competition as a team so we don't have to worry about eliminating anyone.

That's actually the only chance I have of surviving past the first week.

Winning.

Especially when the cards are already stacked against Rob and I.

With Scott and Henry both being a part of Vae Victis, it puts us at a disadvantage right out of the gate. And if it's true that your reputation precedes you, well I'm fairly certain mine kicked in the door, walked in like he owned the place, and made himself comfortable hours ago.

That being the case, I still feel they consider the current Five Star champion a bigger threat than they do a former Hall of Famer past his PRIME, so there may be a chance for me to squeak by on that alone.

Looking back, I have no one to blame but myself. My whole career, all I've done is given people every reason in the world not to trust me.

That's the real advantage the two of them have from day one.

They already have each other's trust.

They have someone they can count on to have their back.

There's no reason for them to believe the other is lying to them, while I have no one to trust but myself.

Well, in my own house of course.

Being the Red Bandit gives me the advantage of having friends in other houses.

I'm not entirely sure how Ivan feels about me going back home yet, but I doubt he's going to be too thrilled. All he's said to me since Ultraviolence is to make sure I sabotage my team, while Cancer said he'd see me in the Finals at Ascension.

Luckily, if there's anyone Ivan would like to have in the ring across from him at Ascension, I'm pretty sure it would be me…someone he believes he can bully into taking the fall and giving him an unchallenged path back to Universal title contention.

I want him to think that.

No, actually, I need him to believe that.

Just like I need to find a way to convince Scott and Keyes that with a Universal title shot in the line, they really can't trust the man covering their back…they would be the closest one to put a knife in it.

Because in the end, only one of us is walking into Ultraviolence representing Tribe Snow.

That's just Math, and I'm not talking about Johnson.

I'm talking about the one that was supposedly dead in PRIME.

SURPRISE!

Math is actually alive and well, and I highly doubt either one of them gives a damn whether we believe in them.

In the end, the only thing I have on my side is math, because it's obvious the only way to get to one is to subtract three.

Eliminate your biggest threats.

From the outside looking in, people might think Rob and I are on equal footing, that we're going to need to work together to survive, but can I really hitch my horse to the biggest target in the house?

While I may have spent a lifetime painting a giant fluorescent target on my back, The Five Star champion may as well have flashing arrows hovering over him wherever he goes.

Not to mention, he not only beat our current Universal champion not too long ago, but he beat Keyes at UltraViolence.

Hopefully Scott forgot about the beating I gave him at Ultraviolence.

Too soon?

This has to be the worst tribe in Survivor.

How are we supposed to work together?

=-=-=-=-=

Tony Gamble knelt beside a duffel bag that looks about full at the edge of his bed, balling up a red t-shirt before trying to stuff it in. He stared at it for a moment, as if space would magically appear when a soft knock at his bedroom door caught his attention.

“You busy,” his daughter asked, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pink hoodie.

“Uhm,” The Grin shoved the T-shirt in as far as he could. “Nope, I'm done.”

“You know you can take more than one bag, right?” Olivia stepped inside, her eyes focused on the bag he was barely able to close.

“I never pack more than one bag,” he replied, watching as she shook her head. It's crazy that a few years ago he didn't even know she existed, and now he wasn't sure how he would be able to live without her.

“Yeah, but you're usually just packing for a night or two.”

“That's why I packed extra underwear,” his words brought a smile to her face, her smile made his scarred grin a genuine one.

“I didn't need to know that,” she chuckled.

He laughed, because he doubted she wanted to know he usually slept in the nude so this was actually a big thing for him.

“I still can't believe you're going.”

“Well, I signed up for it,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“I'm surprised,” she stared at the bag for a moment. “You said it was going to be weird.”

“I was being nice,” Tony couldn't help but to admire her smile, it was the same as her mother's. “If I was talking to someone else I probably would have used a different word.”

“I believe it,” she laughed. “I can't picture you living with three guys for that long.”

“Pretty sure it's going to be like living in a prison with better furniture.”

She laughed again, but it faded as quick as it started. “You're going to be gone for a while.”

“It'll be over before you know it,” Tony walked over, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder before he continued. “I'm pretty sure I'll be the first person my team wants to eliminate.”

“You think so?”

“It's one of the things that annoys me about the whole thing,” he shook his head. “I don't mind this being a competition, but making me live with people that don't even like me…that's where Troy got creative.”

“So none of them like you,” Olivia perched on the corner of the bed as Tony moved his hand.

“No.”

“No?”

“Actually,” The Grin shrugged his shoulders. “They might actually hate me.”

“Hate’s such a strong word,” she responded in disbelief.

“I'm trying to be optimistic,” Tony took a seat next to her, his hands on his knees. “It may not even be a strong enough word to describe how they feel about me.”

“Do they even really know you,” her eyes blinked when she asked the question.

“I've spent my whole career giving people hundreds, if not thousands, of reasons to not want to,” he spread his arms out to his sides, palms up.

“It sounds like it's going to be uncomfortable.”

“I know,” the Permascar Superstar began. “Imagine Christmas dinner, but everyone wants to play Jesus and flip the tables before the food even comes out.”

She laughed again, and this time he joined her.

“That's just day one,” he added, barely able to stifle his laugh as he realized he had yet to pack his toothbrush.

“Do you know what you're going to be doing together?”

“Not a clue,” he replied.

“They didn't tell you anything?”

“Not really,” he shook his head again. “All I know is that there's going to be challenges.”

“That's not exactly nothing,” she challenged.

“May as well be,” he stood up, walked over to the dresser, and grabbed his toothbrush. “If I knew what the challenges were, I could figure out a way to prepare.”

“So they're just going to throw you into it,” she tilted her head slightly.

“Pretty much,” he nodded.

“What if it's something you're terrible at,” her brow furrowed.

“Then I hope one of my partners is good at it,” he shrugged, as he shoved the toothbrush into the bag.

“So you need to work together with people that don't like you,” she paused for a moment, as the words just hung in the air. “How's that going to work?”

“I'll let you know when I figure it out,” he answered with a chuckle.

“Seriously,” she shook her head.

“Don't let the smile fool you,” he pointed at his scar. “I'm completely serious.”

She rolled her eyes.

“If any of us wants to win, we're going to have to find a way to figure out what we want more,” he sat back down. “I'm hoping their want to win is greater than the hate they have for me.”

“You think it's possible?”

He just stared at her, because he wasn't sure what the answer was.

=-=-=-=-=

I have no clue how we're going to be able to work together, but I'm sure we can figure something out.

We don't really have a choice.

Just like I have no choice but to walk in the door with a smile on my face, to act like I'm someone the rest of these guys can count on.

It had to be genuine though, because no one is going to believe me if I walk through that door and start shaking hands and promising that I'll be honest and focus on teamwork.

That's not who I am.

But it is someone I can be.

My performances in Squad Goals and War Games have proven that.

I want my team to win, and I'll do whatever I need to make that happen.

If I happen to drop little hints that the person next to them is a bigger threat to them than I am in the process…I'll do whatever I need to make that happen.

That takes time though…takes patience.

They're not going to turn on each other immediately.

Not when this game is just starting.

No, we're going to be a happy little team for a bit, stressing teamwork, proving ourselves, and respecting each other's strengths and abilities to get things done.

Then, when we lose and someone has to get voted out, that's when the lies start.

That's when you realize that you may not be able to trust the person you thought you could.

That's when the game really starts.

“Hey, slow down,” I tell the driver my app says is named Jacobi, as I tap the back of his seat for good measure.

I see Rob Williams standing at the edge of the curb, watching an old beat up Chevy truck drive away.

“Just pull over here, I'll walk the rest of the way.”

Jacobi does as I say, and I can't wait to get out of the car and give my ears a rest. I don't know how people can listen to this garbage kids call music these days. I think Bobby's little girl used this song during her brief stint in PRIME, and I didn't like it then either.

I grab my bag off the seat next to me and open the door, still not ready for what awaits me inside.

All I know is Rob is headed inside, and if I'm lucky Scott and Henry have yet to arrive and I'll have time to talk to him alone.

=-=-=-=-=

Why the hell is Scott's face painted up like a Thundercat?

He hasn't stopped staring at me since I walked through the door, and he barely acknowledged Williams when he came back from throwing up like a frat boy on pledge night.

I tried to avoid eye contact, to focus on what Rob and Henry were talking about, but it was hard to do when the heir to the Eye of Thundera looked like he was about ready to pounce.

I guess he hasn't forgotten about Ultraviolence.

If I was having a hard time believing this could work before, the look in his eyes just cements things for me.

We're not winning this Aggro Crag challenge, because I'm going to have to watch my back the entire time.

Rob and I definitely need to talk, because I'm not going to be able to worm my way into the ear of either one of these Val Venis assholes, and that means we need to break them apart the first chance we get.

=-=-=-=-

THE YELLOW PAGES

You're surprised, I know.

In a way, I have eight different opponents coming up at ReVival 90, so what could I possibly say to them all?

Individually nothing.

The only thing that needs to be said is that I'm honestly surprised at how well Rob, Henry, Scott, and I have been getting along since we arrived at the Airbnb.

We even gave it a cool nickname…

The Crackhouse.

Snow Globe came in at a close second, but Rob is just so damn convincing we couldn't vote against it.

And since we're getting along so well, that means the rest of you better be ready, because we're coming to win the whole damn thing!