He didn't attack. He started to shuffle. With a grace that defied his massive frame, he began the iconic dance. He crossed his arms, stepping side-to-side in perfect synchronization with the beat. He was no longer a threat; he was a performer.
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. He didn't attack
Colt checked his ammo. One shot left. He stepped out, ready to go down in a blaze of glory. He crossed his arms, stepping side-to-side in perfect
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. Dun-dun-dun-dun, dun, dun-dun-dun-dun
But El Primo didn’t charge. He didn’t leap. Instead, he stood perfectly still.