Revolution Logo

The SHOOT Project logo fades over the television screen, and a capacity crowd is shown.  The commentators for the evening, Dave Dymond and Other Guy have just taken their seat.  With the camrea panning into them, Dave Dymond and Other Guy grab their headsets, and Dymond leads off.

Dave Dymond:  Well well!  Taking the cue from SHOOT Project’s own Instant Heat—

“Y’ALL AIN’T SEEN NUTTIN’ YET!”

BOOM.  Dymond is cut off by HUGE pyro, as the song “Fight Club” by Fat Joe with M.O.P. and Petey Pablo explodes over the public address.  The RevolutionTron comes to life, as a fairly generic, but equally exciting SHOOT montage shows over the screen, in black and white with a blood red hue over it.  Fans in attendance are rabid again.  BOOM.  Pyro explodes again, and a name replaces the montage.

“JASON JOHNSON”

Other Guy:  Oh SHIT!  Boss man is here!

Dressed in a jet black suit, featuring silver steel framed sunglasses and slicked back hair, and carrying a black duffel bag, the CEO and Owner of the SHOOT Project, Jason Johnson steps onto the ramp and outstretches his arms with a simple motion.  This causes fans in attendance to overpower even the huge audio system blasting “Fight Club.”

Dave Dymond:  Jason Johnson re-debuts in his very own fed to HUGE fanfare.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with an entrance like this ever! 

Other Guy:  You know how the chief rolls, Dymond.  He’s got ALL kinds of big plans for this place, and feels like he’s gotta represent with style!

Dave Dymond:  He’s in the ring now!  We should shut the hell up so the man can speak!

A HUGE “SHOOT Project” chant is echoing through the arena to a huge smile from the Owner and CEO.  Samantha Coil graciously gives Jason a microphone.  He pulls it to his mouth, trying to get his shit underway, but the fans are not having any of that, letting him have it with the “SHOOT Project” chant!

Other Guy:  Doesn’t look like boss man minds too much!

Jason makes a gesture to suggest lowering the volume, but that only makes the crowd louder!  Finally, he acts like he’s gonna give up and just stands in the ring, egging it on! 

Dave Dymond:  He’s a consumate showman, that’s for sure!

Finally, the crowd begins to die down.

Jason Johnson:  FUCK yes.  THAT kind of noise…  THAT kind of emotion.  THAT is what I am fucking talking about! 

The “SHOOT Project” chant starts up again.

Jason Johnson:  It’s been a LONG time since you’ve seen me on this screen, in any ring, much less a SHOOT Project ring.  TOO long, if you ask me.  Too fucking long! 

MASSIVE pop.

Jason Johnson:  You all have always known me to not want to hog the spotlight a little bit, but I gotta say…  I can’t help but enjoy myself right this minute!  This is the kind of shit I’ve been hoping for in the month it’s taken us to get this shit back together.  You’d figure it would have taken a lot longer, but the excitement some of these guys have had is just…  I don’t even know how to describe it!

The “SHOOT Project” continues, never losing steam.

Jason Johnson:  It’s BECAUSE of that excitement and that readiness, and the acceptance of you fans, that I’m here today.  Lemme get something outta this bag for you.

Unzipping the bag, Jason Johnson brandishes a championship belt, but it’s not just ANY championship belt…

Jason Johnson:  My brother and OutKast were out here last week with some title belts, in a moment that was admittedly fun to watch for everyone.  I figured I’d work off of that same excitement, and announce some things regarding this belt.  The SHOOT Project World Championship. 

He pauses, and almost gets overwhelmed by the response again.

Jason Johnson:  Now, before you guys get all crazy—

And then he was overwhelmed.

Jason Johnson:  This shit is GREAT.  We’re gonna have a 16 man tournament for this belt, right here.  It will feature as many SHOOT superstars as I can possibly fit into it.  You’ll say to yourself, but Jason, we’ve got over 20 people on this roster…  And this is something I’m aware of.  Fact is, some people will be left out, but rest assured, I’ve got something in mind that will give EVERYONE in this federation a chance at their spotlight, and a chance at this belt. 

He holds the belt up.

Jason Johnson:  That’s right, the SHOOT Project has always been about the cutting edge, and while we’re going to employ a traditional method of handing this belt out, rest assured that there is something in the works to give everyone a shot. 

He smiles.

Jason Johnson:  With that in mind, I’m sure a lot of you are wondering when the SHOOT Project is going to put on a big huge show, and where it’ll be.  Plans right now are in the very beginning stages, but here’s what we know so far.  First is that the World title tournament will culminate AT the very first pay per view.  Second, is that we’re not leaving Las Vegas for this one.  The SHOOT Project’s first PPV will be held right here, at the Thomas and Mack Center!

MADDENING pop.

Jason Johnson:  I thought you’d like that.  I’m gonna get the fuck outta here, though!  I’ve rambled on for wayyy too long.  I’ll do these guys coming up a favor though, and announce their match myself.  Get out here!

“God Hates a Coward” by Tomahawk hits the PA system.  The crowd pops pretty well when the name “Jack Seishent” appears on the RevolutionTron, and the demented one himself shows up at the top of the ramp.

Jason Johnson:  Standing in at six feet, eight inches tall and weighing in at two hundred forty pounds…  he is…  JACK SEISHENT.

Seishent climbs into the ring, and stretches against the ropes.  He looks, almost vacantly, to the top of the ramp, eagerly awaiting Adrian Corazon.

Other Guy:  Seishent looks ready to go here.  He’s got a lot to be fighting for here, for sure.

Dave Dymond:  Yes he does.  Both him AND Corazon do.

“…and hell followed with him.”
Pyro explodes as “My Own Summer” takes over from where “God Hates All Cowards” left off, and the crowd is somewhat split on Corazon between a few cheers, but some boos.  He stands atop the ramp in pretty standard ring attire.  He’s got his trademarked “Corazon” name and symbol across the back of his ring shorts. 

Other Guy:  Corazon looks relatively normal here.  I think I’m used to seeing him in more casual wear.

Dave Dymond:  This IS a wrestling match, you know.

Corazon begins to make his way to the ring, ignoring the fans around him, extremely focused.

Jason Johnson:  And now, standing in at six feet, three inches…  weight in at two hundred twenty five pounds, he is known simply as…  CORAZON.

Other Guy:  Jason takes off, and Corazon looks JACKED and ready to go.  This guy is as focused as they get, I think.

Dave Dymond:  I think he’s a lot more dangerous than he lets on, OG.  This guy…  he has the skills.

Corazon and Seishent stand in front of each other as Dennis Heflin goes over the rules of the bout.  The two punch fists and head back to their corners.

Dave Dymond:  Almost ready for opening bell here.  I wanted to remind everyone that this match will be fought under Iron Fist rules.

Other Guy:  That means that in order to score a victory here, you must render your opponent incapacitated or unconscious for a full 10 count.  If you do that, you win the match, and you’ll move on to fight in the main event, for the Iron Fist Championship.

The bell rings.  Corazon and Seishent lock up.  Corazon applies a front facelock, but Seishent shoves him into the turnbuckle.  Seishent starts to assault Corazon with a flurry of rights and lefts, but Corazon does his best to block it, trying to take as little damage as possible.  Finally, Corazon reverses and does the same to Seishent having a bit more success.

Other Guy:  They’re keeping it pretty clean here, so far. 

Dave Dymond:  Yep, they’re working each other relatively similarly, with those punches.

With a thud, the match continues as Seishent has shoved Corazon onto the mat.  He moves over to follow up, but Corazon takes him down with a drop toe hold.  Seishent hits the mat hard, and Corazon floats over, wrenching Seishent’s neck, while hitting him with forearms.

Dave Dymond:  Nothing clean about that.

Other Guy:  Nope.

Corazon pulls Seishent to his feet, and in a swift motion, executes a high overhead belly to belly suplex, which rocks Seishent and takes him down.  The crowd lets out a pretty cool “Aww” sound, as Corazon follows through by pulling Seishent to his feet, whipping him into the ropes, and hits him with a SICK european uppercut, on the rebound.  Seishent doesn’t fall, so Corazon doubles him over, rebounds off the rope and flips over him from the front, executing a picture perfect neckbreaker! 

Dave Dymond:  Seishent got rocked by that!  That was a sick move!

Other Guy:  I’m liking this guy Corazon’s style.  Seishent’s not to be denied though, look!  He’s already getting back up!  What a fighter!

Corazon, seemingly annoyed at Seishent’s unwillingness to stay down, charges Seishent, who ducks.  Corazon bounces off the ring rope, and Seishent catches him with a NASTY dropkick.  Corazon falls, clutching his jaw.

Other Guy:  Seishent will not go down this easily.  I hope Corazon realizes that!

Dave Dymond:  Pretty nice dropkick there from Seishent, too.  Corazon looks almost like he got hit by a car.

Seishent continues the assault by turning Corazon over and pounding the back of his head.  He gets up, hits a pretty stiff kick to punctuate, and demands a count from the referee.  Dennis Heflin starts to count…

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

Corazon starts to shift, he’s moving slowly, but getting to his feet.

6…

7…

With Corazon back up, Seishent, who was on the other side of the ring, watching, starts to circle in again.  The fans are firmly behind the Seishent comeback, but are silenced when Seishent’s run at Corazon meets the turnbuckle pole.  He backs up, clutching his shoulder, as Corazon clotheslines him in the corner, rending him unmoving.  With this time, Corazon backs up, runs at him and clotheslines him again, which causes Seishent to bounce off the top turnbuckle and stumble out.  Corazon locks in for the capture suplex, but Seishent elbows him in the side of the head!  Corazon releases, and hits him with another european uppercut!  He tries the capture again, only to get elbowed again!  With one final uppercut, Corazon hits the capture suplex!  He calls for Heflin to count!

Dave Dymond:  SICK exchange right there.  I thought Corazon might lose Seishent for sure!

Other Guy:  These two guys…  they both want this thing, man.

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

7…
Seishent begins to stir, he looks towards Corazon with fire in his eyes.  Corazon stares back, not intimidated at all.

8…

9…

Seishent stands up, and the fans go ballistic.  He and Corazon meet in the center and lock up again, this time with Seishent applying the front face lock.  He pulls Corazon up for a vertical suplex, but Corazon hooks his leg.  Seishent tries again, but this time Corazon flips behind him, locks in a half nelson and snaps him over and Seishent lands very dangerously! 

Dave Dymond:  What a move! 

Other Guy:  Corazon is kicking this into overdrive!

Corazon continues, pulling Seishent back to his feet.  With a slap to the face, Seishent comes alive, and the two begin trading punches!  

Other Guy:  Listen to those hits, Dave.  Just…  listen to them. That’s what the Iron Fist Championship is all about.

Corazon starts to land more and more hits, as Seishent’s steam starts to crash.  Corazon tries a fisherman’s suplex, but Seishent catches him off guard and hits him HARD with a right hook.  Corazon staggers, and Seishent drops him with a HARD DDT. Dennis Heflin counts…

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

7…

8…

Corazon stirs, and groggily tries to shake the cobwebs out, eventually standing up.  The crowd is split again, appreciating the effort.

Other Guy:  Corazon’s cutting it close here.  Seishent almost had it with that DDT.

Dave Dymond:  Well, if you’ll look…  Seishent isn’t gonna just let him up.

With a charge, Seishent delivers a pretty sick kick to Corazon, as he’s standing up.  Corazon flops and hits the canvas again, but Seishent doesn’t give time for a count, instead he pulls Corazon to his feet and points at him, signaling for the Silver Bullet!

Other Guy:  If Seishent hits this, it’s OVER.

Dave Dymond:  It’s not called the stiffest clothesline in the business for nothing, folks!

Seishent whips Corazon into the ropes, but on the rebound, Corazon ducks!  He boots Seishent in the stomach, doubles him over, and tries for Original Sin!  Seishent pulls Corazon’s legs out from under him and Corazon tumbles.  Seishent waits for Corazon to get up and rushes him!  Corazon ducks and hits Seishent with a HUGE spinebuster!  He gets Seishent back to his feet quickly!  ORIGINAL SIN!

Dave Dymond:  WOW.  I thought Seishent had it right there, but Corazon had an answer for everything Seishent did! 

Other Guy:  Heflin’s counting, this might be over!

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

7…

8…

9…

10!!

Corazon slumps down, as the bell rings!  Samantha Coil gets on the mic.

Samantha Coil:  Your winner, at a time of fourteen minutes, thirty seconds, and moving to fight the winner of “Die Hard” Dave Marz and Killian Reilly…  CORAZON.

The fans cheer for the effort exerted, but some boos are still spattered throughout.  Corazon stands over Seishent’s unconscious body, and raises his arm in the air.  Then he makes the “belt around the waist” motion, just before exiting the ring.

Dave Dymond:  Crazy effort there from Corazon, and a well deserved spot in the main event.  He really had some moments against Seishent.  I thought for sure Seishent was going to take this one.

Other Guy:  Those reversals at the end really shocked me, and Corazon proved he had some depth to the words he’s been saying.  We’ll see what happens when he fights the winner of Marz and Reilly later tonight, for the Iron Fist Championship.

The only thing you see is a blurred video image of a blue-and-yellow clad masked man flying through the air and landing on a huge man with a flying body press.

VOICE: You’ve seen me debut. You’ve seen me grow up.

The same blue-and-yellow clad masked man is now covered in blood. A huge muscle man is hovering over him, a chair to the fallen man’s neck. An unmasked cruiserweight, the same size as the masked man, is getting his ass handed to him by a blurred figure that resembles former SHOOT Project star Ben Jackman.

VOICE: You’ve seen me bleed. You’ve seen me defeated.

The unmasked cruiserweight is now flying through the air, executing 450 splashes, somersault senton splashes, flying AJ Styles-like reverse DDT’s.

VOICE: You’ve seen me fly. And you’ve heard me gloat about it.

You see the unmasked cruiserweight stand on the top turnbuckle and jump off, executing a perfect 630 Senton Bomb.

VOICE: And now, you’ll finally see me shine.

The blurred image of the cruiserweight finally clears up, as you see the man in question – Benjamin Biggs. You see flashes of his bouts with Cade Sydal, Jun Kenshin, Ron Barker, Greg Allocca and Loco Martinez, flying through the air or executing his signature high-risk moves. As the clips become shorter in length, it suddenly stops. The only thing you see is a golden emblem of a dragonfly, slender body in the middle with wings spread out on both sides.

VOICE: You better tune in next week… because you’ll finally get your recommended daily dose of Benjamin… and like last time, you’ll be addicted to the taste.

The dragonfly emblem disappears as you see BENJAMIN BIGGS: NEXT WEEK plastered in gold font on the screen.

VOICE: Awww, come on. You know you’ll love it.

The scene fades to black and back to the arena.

The fans are waiting for the next match, when suddenly the rough sounding guitar riff of “It’s A Long Way To The Top” by AC/DC cuts through the air.  A spotlight starts to creep through the crowd in the sold out Thomas and Mack Arena.  The spotlight illuminates the fans, who cheer and hold up signs in response, until it finally settles on a man standing amongst the masses in the second deck. Diamond Del Carver.

The Hardcore Outlaw is surrounded by fans, who are slapping him on the back and cheering.  Carver has an easy going smile on his face, and as soon as the lights hit him, he starts to make his way through the people, down to the next level on his way to the ring. 

As the hard rocking AC/DC continues to play, Carver weaves his way through the fans, the spotlight and camera following him along, until he makes it to the ringside area.  Carver climbs over the crowd barrier and stands at ringside.  Before climbing into the ring, Diamond Del Carver walks all the way around, slapping hands with the fans. 

Finally, Carver rolls into the ring and takes the microphone in hand...

Diamond Del Carver: “Sin City!”

The crowd roars.

Diamond Del Carver: “Y’all didn’t hear much from ol’ Del this past week, so I figgered I’d come on out here and answer some questions for you.”

Del Carver starts to walk back and forth in the ring as he talks.

Diamond Del Carver: “Question number one...how am I feeling after last week.  How do I feel about the match.  How do I feel about Ray Willmott.”

The fans cheer the mention of last week’s main event.

Diamond Del Carver:  “What I have to say is this...Ray Willmott, you’re a tough sumbitch.  I never really doubted it, but last week you done proved it.  I got nothing but respect for you, son.  Anytime you want a rematch, or better yet any time you need my help, you just ask.  You earned it.  No hard feelings here.”

The fans cheer.

Diamond Del Carver: “Question number two...what about Ainsley Lake?  Seems last week while I was backstage getting warmed up on the treadmill for my match, Ainsley was out here talking smack about old Del.

So what is my response to little old Ainsley?

Nothing, that’s what.

We ain’t in South Carolina.  This ain’t no soap opera.  There ain’t no space aliens here, no bionic men, no kidnappings, rapes, murders, or to be continued stories.  This is SHOOT Project.  In SHOOT Project, we don’t talk, we FIGHT.”

The crowd ROARS and starts to chant... “SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!”

Diamond Del Carver: “What happened between me and you don’t have nothing to do with wrestling, so it don’t belong out here in this ring.  I don’t bring my personal life into this ring.

Actually...I don’t HAVE a personal life to bring into this ring, but that’s another story.  The point is little girl, I ain’t gonna sit here and talk about me and you.  I’m here in SHOOT for one reason, and one reason only.  To prove that I got one last run in me.  Drama between a man and a woman is just going to distract me from that, and I ain’t about to be distracted. You did say some mighty mean things though.  You called me a junkie.  You called me old.  Do I have a response to that?  Sure.

I am an old man.  I am famous for being hooked on painkillers, for being a drunk, for being a stubborn old coot.  That ain’t a lie, it ain’t slander, it’s who I am.  So if anybody has a problem with that, they can put it on their lips, and take it up with my ASS.”

There is a roar of laughter and cheers.

Diamond Del Carver: “Thirdly and finally...some people wonder what I am doing here.  Skull ain’t here. The Flying Dutchman ain’t here. Ben Jackman ain’t here no more. Mallows, X-Calibur, Dave Hawkins, Sean Boden...the list goes on and on.  The list of men who used to be here in this ring with me, and ain’t barely none of em here no more.

So why am I still here? Let me lay it down for you.

Before there ever was an OPW, there was SHOOT Project.  Before there ever was a TTW, or it’s so-called Legacy, there was a SHOOT Project. While others buzz around like flies, making noise...the real thunder comes from up above.  That thunder can only be one thing...and when it sounds, it booms louder than anything else, and it blows it all away.

SHOOT Project.

I have run.  I have hid.  I have lied, and tried to change the past or deny who I am.  Like a little kid who is mad at his parents, I have tried to change my name or deny my heritage and erase my history, but when the word came down from the mountain, I knew there was only ONE truth.

SHOOT Project.

It’s the only real place where the only real warriors live.  Everything else is just a pale, watered down, substandard excuse for a substitute. If you want to see the best, the best fighters, the best fights, the best in competition, you know where you have to look.  Even the imitators and the haters know, even they would admit it deep down in their guts.  The minute the word came down, they knew it was over, and that the real leader was BACK.

SHOOT Project.

All them other men I have mentioned?  They all moved on.  Not me.  The task has fallen on my shoulders, and I am picking it up with pride.  There are a hell of a lot of young men back there in that locker room.  Hungry, angry, ambitious, violent young men, who want to make this “new” SHOOT Project their own.

Cool.  All y’all gotta do is get past me.  I am declaring myself the standard bearer.  I am declaring myself the gatekeeper.  Somebody has to carry the history of this organization on his back, and since not so many of the other legends are around, then I say it will be me.

Let me make it clear...I intend to win the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship.  I will do it to prove who I was, and what I could do...and I will do it to set the standard for this new SHOOT Project.  If you want to lead us into the future, then you must face the past...and defeat me.

I am old.  I am tired, and beat up, and wore out...but my batteries have a bit of charge.  I have these people in my corner...”

Diamond Del Carver makes a big circle and points all around to the fans as they cheer.

Diamond Del Carver:  “Together, we will do WHATEVER WE HAVE TO DO TO SURVIVE.  We will guard and defend the history and standards of SHOOT Project, and we will win the World Heavyweight Championship, to prove that my past, and the past of SHOOT Project is the best of the best.  Then and only then we pass the torch.

So buckle up, fans.  All you boys in the back?  Bring it on.  Me and my people are going to reach down, and we’re going to do this thing the old school SHOOT Project way.

ONE.  MORE.  TIME.”

Diamond Del Carver slams the microphone down, and the fans start to chant...

“One more time!  One more time! One more time!”

Del Carver rolls out of the ring and leaps into the crowd, embracing them as they continue to chant for ONE MORE TIME.  The camera shot switches from the arena to the backstage area...

The scene fades in, but OH MY GOD!!! It's no NORMAL fadey scene thingy! It's got the jester logo at the bottom right hand corner, SOOOO....for the first time for the second time on SHOOT Project, it's time for SMILES CAM!!! We see an image of the Marriot Hotel, as if filmed from the parking lot. The camera then turns to show the face of Jester Smiles, wearing his sparkly green and purple Mardi Gras. He smiles brightly, sticking his tongue out at the camera for a brief moment. Off to the side of the camera, we see a small glimmer of gold on the right hand corner of the screen, obviously the Revolution Championship on Jester's shoulder.

Jester Smiles: So....somehow, I won a title.

Jester smiles brightly, panning the camera over to the shiny title for just a moment. It then pans back to Jester, who mocks a very serious face.

Jester Smiles: But right now, this is Smiles Cam, and this isn't about me. This is about the unlucky-err-lucky son of a gun who gets the chance to make a name for himself, and finally make his way here in SHOOT Project. That's why I picked the gentleman I'm about to interview. That's why I picked-oh, shoot, there he is!!

Jester pans the camera over, and he sees the man he's supposed to interview, walking out of the Marriot with bags in his hands. It's none other than Josh "The Real Deal" Johnson.

Jester Smiles: REAL DEAL!!

Jester darts over to the Real Deal, who looks completely shocked and surprised. At first, he grins, but he soon realizes that Jester isn't stopping, and once Jester gets close enough, Real Deal goes from a happy grin to a look of "oh shit".

Jester Smiles: HUG!!

Jester leaps forward, crashing into The Real Deal. Deal, Smiles, bags, and the camera going flying, before the camera is taken away to static. When the scene fades back in, Jester and The Real Deal are seated in the hotel lobby, across from one another in little hotel seat things, commonly referred to as chairs. Jester is rubbing a black eye.

Real Deal:  Whoa dude.  Whoa.  That's some jacked up eye paint you're wearing. What's up with that?

Jester Smiles: Well, I was TRYING to make you look like a bad(grass), but it looks like you want to go and ruin that reputation.

Jester wipes away the "black eye" paint, mumbling all irritated like.

Jester Smiles: So, now that you've ruined all my hard work, how are things going with The Real Deal?

Real Deal:  Wait, whoa.  You HUGG--  you know what, nevermind.  Things are going well, I think, man!  I'm on my way to Thomas and Mack, you know.  I'd ask how you're doing, but you already told me, and...  I guess everyone else.

Jester Smiles: I have told you NOTHING sir! NOTHING!!

Jester sits up straight, mocking an insulted look.

Real Deal:  Okay, well you've told me nothing, then.  So with that in mind... how are you doing, Jester Smiles?  How's being the Revolution Champion been working out for you?

Jester Smiles: No, no, no, my good friend, Dealy. This can't be about me. I'm here to push YOU! It's time for the Real Deal to SHINE!I mean, hell, who knows the name Real Deal.

Jester makes the "Psssh" sound, and pats his Revolution Title. Oh, how he loves patting his Revolution Title.

Real Deal:  I am indeed a varitable nobody in this business.  Jester though, dude, I...  I don't think I really need pushing.

Real Deal looks around. 

Real Deal:  I mean, I'm doing pretty well for myself.

Jester Smiles: Oh, SURE! Let's all BRAG about our nice things in front of Jester. Let's all MOCK Jester with the "Look how nice everything is!"

Jester sits up even straighter, crossing his arms, and looking even MORE offended.

Jester Smiles: You listen to me, MR. Deal. If that IS your REAL NAME....

Puns. Aren't they so much fun?

Jester Smiles: I had nice things once. But then, people started breaking them, so I couldn't HAVE nice things anymore. So before you get all, you know, Judgy Judgemental, let's remember something....

Jester points his finger at Real Deal, but then looks down at Real Deal's hands, smiling brightly.

Jester Smiles: Who does your nails? For a man, they are quite lovely.

Real Deal laughs awkwardly.

Real Deal:  Uhh...  I typically just clip them myself.  I'm glad you like them, though?  You seem upset.  Do you ever get time to unwind and relax?  Or are you always really... erm...  hyperactive...  like this?

Jester Smiles: I do spend a lot of time flying between Winston Salem and Las Vegas, so, I spend a lot of time sitting on a plane. I guess that's what happens when you work in both SHOOT Project and O-

Suddenly, a ninja in a nice tie comes from off camera and whispers something in

Jester's ear. He then disappears in a cloud of smoke. When the smoke clears, Jester looks nervous.

Jester Smiles: According to the SHOOT Project lawyer ninja, I must claim that I fly to Winston Salem for no real reason at all.

Real Deal laughs aloud. 

Real Deal:  That ninja had a good call.  We don't take kindly to them Winston-Salem folk 'round here.  Or something equally hickish and redneck sounding.  Though, the Charlotte area used to be an old stomping ground. 

Real Deal sighs. 

Real Deal:  Oh the memories.

Jester Smiles: Yeah, I was briefly in the Charlotte area. I....was sleeping on the floor of the Charlotte Coliseum.

Jester twiddles his thumbs.

Jester Smiles: But enough about me being homeless. What was it like when YOU were homeless!

Real Deal:  Yeah, I can't recall ever being homeless.  Well...  there was that one time, in Tokyo, but..  you know, I don't really want to talk about that.  Yeah...don't wanna talk about that.

Jester Smiles: Well then, it's clear that you DO want to talk about the LIGHTNING ROUND!!

Real Deal smiles.

Real Deal:  Oh boy!  The Lightning Round!  Can I just say lesbian?  Like last week?

Jester Smiles: Pssh. No, that's my job. Though, apparently, you do understand how the lightning round works, so we'll just go right into the-
WHODOYOUWANTTOHAVEAMATCHWITHTHEMOSTINALLOFHISTORY!! GO!!

Real Deal:  Muhammed Ali.

Jester Smiles: Dude, he'd whip your butt like, all kinds of cra-WHODOYOUWANTTOHAVESEXWITHMORETHANANYONEELSEINHISTORYGO!!

Real Deal:  ...Muhammed Ali?

Jester just stares at Real Deal for a moment. There is an awkward moment of silence, before finally Jester just shake the previous answer off.

Jester Smiles: Oooookay, that was....bizarre. So, I guess my next ques-
CHRISFARLEYORSEABISCUITGO!!

Real Deal:  Wendy's.

Jester Smiles: You don't really "get" how an interview works, do you?

Real Deal:  I'm sorry.  I thought this was supposed to be fun.  Isn't this supposed to be fun?

Jester Smiles: Fun? FUN!? This is a SERIOUS interview, man. Don't you SEE that!

Jester shakes his head.

Jester Smiles: Now....

Jester digs in his pocket and pulls out, what appears to be, a Zebra Cake...unwrapped.

Jester Smiles: EAT THIS ZEBRA CAKE ON LIVE TELEVISION! GO!!

Real Deal:  Yo, this thing is unwrapped...  are you sure?

Jester Smiles: What....are you SCARED!?

Real Deal:  Well, yeah man.  I mean, unwrapped goodies usually, you know... the whole thing doesn't end well.

Jester Smiles smiles(wow, that sure looks weird) slyly at Real Deal. He winks at him, speaking low and softly.

Jester Smiles: Come on.....do it.....you know you want to.....

Real Deal:  Uhh...  yeah, while that's pretty goddamn weird, I'll go ahead, if only to move on.

Jester hands the Real Deal the zebra cake, laughing while he eats it.

Jester Smiles: If you get herpes, that has NOTHING to do with the Zebra Cake....

Nothing.....

FAVORITECURSEWORDGO!!

Real Deal:  Fuck.

Jester blows a bullhorn, and suddenly, blue and silver slime comes from off camera, as if buckets of it are being thrown at Real Deal. In moments, Real Deal is COVERED in blue and silver slime.

Jester Smiles: LANGUAGE!! YOU CAN'T SAY THAT ON SMILES CAM...OR TV!!

As Real Deal wipes some of the slime off his face, Jester grabs a bucket from off camera and throws pink slime all over Real Deal. He then runs over to his camera, and sticks his face right into it.

Jester Smiles: BOOYA!!

Jester grabs his gear and darts away. Moments later the camera finally fades out.

The crowd is buzzing in anticipation as Samantha Coil takes the microphone…

Samantha:  “Ladies and Gentlemen, this next match is the Semi-Final match for the IRON FIST CHAMPIONSHIP!”

The crowd roars in appreciation, as “Have A Nice Day” By Bon Jovi begins to play.

Dave Marz emerges from the entranceway, and stands in the aisle, soaking up the standing ovation from the capacity crowd. After raising his arm and giving the fans a big thumbs up, Marz strides down the aisle, vaults himself onto the apron, and then over the top rope. Samantha takes the microphone in her hand, and steps into the center of the ring…

Samantha:  “Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing first, in the corner to my left: He hails from Ozone Park, New York weighing in at 270 pounds: “Die Hard” DAVE MARZ!”

The fans continue to cheer the ever-popular Dave Marz, and many fans are holding up signs bearing his name, or wearing “Die Hard” T-shirts. 

“Shipping Up To Boston” by The Dropkick Murphys starts to play…

Samantha:  “And now…hailing from Cork County, Ireland he weighs in at 240 pounds, here is KILLIAN REILLY!”

Killian Reilly emerges from the entranceway, into the aisle, to a nice welcoming reception from the fans.  The Irish newcomer makes his way down the aisle calmly, taking the time to exchange a hi-five with the fans that reach out to him.  Killian slides under the bottom rope with ease, and raises his arms over his head, to the cheers of the crowd. Referee Austin Linam enters the ring, as Samantha departs.  The bell rings to start the match…

Dave Dymond:  “We’re ready to go here.  I should point out that I am now officially NOT cheering for Dave Marz, for the simple reason that he just subjected us all to Bon Jovi.”

Other Guy:  “Yeah, Dave Marz is one of the most popular stars here in SHOOT.  Only he could get away with that.”

In a nice touch, the two men shake hands.  They lock up.  Killian Reilly goes behind, and slaps on a rear waistlock, but Dave Marz immediately reverses. A back elbow by Reilly to the side of the head of Dave Marz breaks the hold. 

Reilly turns and fires a right hand at Dave Marz, and then whips him into the ropes.  Dave Marz comes off the ropes…and is met by a Spinning Elbow Smash to the face from the young Irishman!

Dave Dymond:  “What a move by the newcomer!”

Other Guy:  “He hit him so hard, he ask Linam to make the count!”

Dave Marz starts to get up, and Reilly stays on him with a Driving Knee Lift into another waistlock. Dave Marz reverses, but Reilly sits out and escapes! Reilly gets back up, and fires another quick knee to the gut of Die Hard, and attempts to toss Die Hard over the top rope to the outside.   Dave Marz lands on the apron, and grabs Reilly by the back of the head, and drops down…dropping Reilly neck first on the top rope!

Dave Marz slides back into the ring, and throws the choking Killian Reilly into the ropes.  The Irish whip is reversed by Reilly, but Dave Marz comes off with a leapfrog, and lands on the other side of Reilly.  Reilly spins around, and is met with a short arm clothesline from Die Hard!

Dave Dymond:  “Surprise lariat by Dave Marz and Linam starts to make the count on the stunned Killian Reilly! One! Two! Three! Four! Five!”

Other Guy:  “Reilly is up and both men squaring off.  Let’s face it Dymond, Marz is a brawler and Reilly is a former boxer.  This isn’t going to be a technical masterpiece.  We’re gonna see a whole lotta punchin.”

A rapid-fire right hand by Reilly stuns Dave Marz, and Reilly takes advantage, and ties Dave Marz in the ropes.  Reilly hits a running roundhouse on the helpless Dave Marz. Reilly tries for another, but Dave Marz pulls himself free, and Reilly lands crotch first on the ropes, as the crowd groans.

Reilly rolls outside of the ring to try and recover, but Dave Marz follows outside. Dave Marz jumps right on Reilly, running him shoulder first into the stairs! Dave Marz rolls the stunned Reilly back in the ring, and follows him.

Dave Marz starts stomping on Reilly relentlessly. Dave Marz picks Reilly up...

Dave Dymond:  “Running powerslam on Killian Reilly by Dave Marz!”

Other Guy:  “Here’s Austin Linam to make the standing ten count...”

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Reilly shakes his head and stands up!

Dave Marz gets back to work and starts stomping away at Reilly again.  Die Hard backs off for a mere second rubs his hands together, and then shoots down and applies a front facelock on Killian Reilly.

Dave Dymond:  “Dave Marz with a smart strategy here.  Ground the newcomer, and cut off his air, which will make him weak and easier to knock out.”

Other Guy:  “Smart move by Die Hard!  Reilly cursing in pain, trying to get to the ropes…and he makes it!”

Dave Marz lets go at the orders of Austin Linam, but as soon as Reilly is free from the ropes, Marz starts pounding again. Dave Marz then slaps the facelock right back on! Killian Reilly thrashes around for a few moments, and then goes limp!  Dave Marz stands up and backs off...

Austin Linam makes the count...

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Reilly shakes his head and stands up again!

Dave Marz shoots behind, and takes down Reilly, and slaps on an armbar now. Reilly is in obvious pain, and Reilly gets to his feet.  Dave Marz drops an elbow on the arm.  Now Dave Marz with applies another waistlock, and he picks Reilly up.  Dave Marz tosses Reilly into the ropes…but the whip is reversed.  Dave Marz comes off the ropes, but launches himself at Reilly and drops him with a flying clothesline. Die Hard up, he comes off the ropes again, but gets caught with a surprise boot, right to the face!

Reilly fires off a clothesline, sending Die Hard down.  As Dave Marz starts to get to his feet, Killian locks him up and then plants Die Hard with a DDT! Dave Marz immediately stumbles to his feet, but is totally rocked, and staggers backwards into the corner.  Dave Marz staggers out of the corner, trying to get away, but he walks right into a high impact Russian (or Irish I suppose) Legsweep!

Dave Dymond:  “Holy Crap! Did you see the impact on that?  That’s it!”

Other Guy:  “What a great move by Killian Reilly!”

Austin Linam starts to make the standing ten count...

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Marz gets to a knee!

Reilly pulls Dave Marz to his feet, and then angrily throws him over the top rope to the outside of the ring.  Reilly follows Marz out, scoops him up, and then slams him on the concrete floor!  The fans groan in sympathy at the sight of Die Hard bouncing on the arena floor.

Killian Reilly heads back up to the apron, measures Dave Marz off, and then leaps off with a fist drop, off the apron, onto the head of Dave Marz...on the concrete floor! Both men stay down for a moment. Slowly, Killian Reilly gets to his feet, and painfully rolls Dave Marz back into the ring. Reilly follows, and pulls the groggy Die Hard to his feet. A wild swing by Reilly misses, and Dave Marz nails him with a boot to the gut…into a Swinging Neckbreaker!

Dave Dymond:  “That’s gotta be it!”

Other Guy:  “Linam makes the count...”

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Reilly slowly stands up!

Dave Marz applies another front facelock while he thinks strategy, on his next move to try and put the young Irishman away.  Killian Reilly nimbly rolls to his back and breaks free, standing up. Reilly tries a roundhouse but Dave Marz ducks. They look at each other in surprise, as the crowd give both men a standing ovation.

Dave Dymond:  “What a match this has turned out to be!”

Other Guy:  “Man you can tell by the way he is hanging in here with the veteran Die Hard Dave Marz, that this Killian Reilly is going to be a force in the new SHOOT Project.”

The two fighters lock up with a collar and elbow tie-up, which is transitioned into another hammerlock by Dave Marz.  Die Hard tries to execute a snapmare…but Reilly lands on his feet. Reilly ducks a clothesline attempt from Dave Marz, and hits another roundhouse. Dave Marz hits the mat, but quickly gets back to his feet, rubbing his jaw,

Dave Marz grabs Reilly by the wrist and whips him into the corner, but Reilly gets an elbow up. Marz runs in, takes the sharp impact from the elbow, and staggers backward, falling to the mat. Linam makes the count...

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Dave Marz rolls out of the ring to break the count and gather himself.  Die Hard is shaking his head, angry that he got caught on the rush in. After a moment, Marz rolls back in. Killian is waiting, and he pulls Die Hard to his feet, and attempts an Irish Whip.  The whip into the ropes is reversed, Reilly drops down but Dave Marz has it scouted, and hits a kick to the head!

Dave Marz scoops Reilly up, and nails him with another neckbreaker. Now Dave Marz starts to stomp on Reilly again.  Dave Marz kicks the upper body and torso of Killian Reilly repeatedly.

Killian Reilly starts to get up, and Marz mows him over with a clothesline!  Marz patiently backs off again, and as Reilly starts to get up, Marz cinches him up, and drives him back to the mat with a wicked spinning neckbreaker!

Austin Linam stands over the rookie, and starts to count…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Just after the count of five, Killian Reilly staggers to his feet.

The exciting Irish newcomer wastes no time, as he grabs the surprised Die Hard by the arm, and hurls Die Hard into the ropes.  Marz reverses the Irish whip, but Killian Reilly comes off with leapfrog, and lands on the other side of Marz.  Marz spins around, and is met with a cranium crunching headbutt!

Dave Dymond:  “OUCH!  I bet Die Hard is seeing stars after that one!”

Other Guy:  “I thought it was the Scottish who were famous for their headbutts…not the Irish!”

Reilly grabs the stunned Marz by the back of the head, raises his arm, and then drives his elbow right to the top of the head of Dave Marz!  Killian backs off, as Marz collapses!

The ref starts the count…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Other Guy:  “Marz is back up, and both men are squaring off…”

As he shakes his head to clear it, Marz fires a right hand and stuns Killian Reilly, and Marz takes advantage, and whips the champion into the ropes. Dave Marz runs, bounces off the far rope, and then launches himself into the air, and nearly takes Reilly’s head off with the flying clothesline!

Killian Reilly starts to get up, and so Dave Marz stands over him, and starts to pull him to his feet.  Reilly reaches up, grabs Marz by the top of the head, and falls to his knees…driving the top of his head right into Marz’s jaw, stunning him!

Dave Dymond:  “Surprise Jaw Breaker by the newcomer!”

Other Guy:  “Austin Linam stands over Marz, and starts to count!”

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Using the ropes, Marz pulls himself to his feet!

Killian Reilly applies a waistlock, on the woozy challenger, and fires him backwards in a rough looking toss! Killian Reilly stays on Dave Marz, and pulls him to his feet.  Reilly tosses Marz into the ropes, and then smashes him back to the mat with a stiff forearm upside the head!

Austin Linam stands over Marz again, and starts the count…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Marz stumbles to his feet, but as Reilly approaches, he nails him with a big boot to the gut! Killian Reilly winces, and then gets locked up, and thrown straight into the air in an Exploder Suplex by Dave Marz!

Dave Dymond:  “Nicely done by Marz!”

Other Guy:  “That’s just the type of move that will knock the wind out of a man long enough to keep him down for the 10 Count…”

Austin Linam stands over Irish newcomer, and starts the count…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Reilly slowly climbs to his feet, but Die Hard is right there, and locks him up in a rear waistlock.  Marz tucks his head under Reilly’s arm, and uses that leverage to spike Killian Reilly high into the air, and backward onto the mat, right on top of his head in a BACKDROP DRIVER!

BAM!  THE MARZ ATTACK!

Austin Linam stands over Irish newcomer, and starts the count…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Reilly starts to get up, but falls back to the mat, holding his neck and head in pain!

Eight!

Nine!

TEN!

The fans erupt and the bell rings, as Austin Linam holds Die Hard Dave Marz’s arm high in the air, and his music starts to play.  Outside the ring, Samantha takes the microphone in hand and makes it official...

Samantha:  “HERE IS YOUR WINNER...AND ADVANCING TO THE FINALS OF THE SINGLE NIGHT IRON FIST ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT...DIE HARD...DAVE MARZ!”

Austin Linam stoops to check on Killian Reilly, and Dave Marz rolls out of the ring, breathing heavily and looking tired but satisfied.  As Die Hard high fives his fans on the way back up the aisle, the camera goes to Dymond and OG at the broadcast table.

Dave Dymond: “That was one hell of an effort by the newcomer Killian Reilly, but Die Hard was riding the momentum of his huge win over Cade Sydal last week, and he got the duke!”

Other Guy:  “I think this came down to experience, Dymond.  Reilly is fresh from being a boxer, and it showed.  99% of his moves tonight were punches and kicks.  Now having said that, Marz himself is not much more than a brawler, but he has incorporated some high impact wrestling moves into his arsenal, not the least of which is that amazing Marz Attack Backdrop Driver we just saw.  I think Reilly is one hell of an athlete and he has a big future in SHOOT, but tonight was not his night, and he may need a bit more experience before challenging for the Iron Fist Championship.”

The cameras flash on in the backstage area. They zoom down the hallway and stop at a large door. On the door it says "Jason Johnson's Office". As the camera get closer to the door, you see none other then Jason Johnson himself. Jason is wearing a very stylish black suit. He loosens his tie for a moment before opening the door. As he opens the door, he is stopped dead in his tracks. Jason lowers his head and sighes as he sees sitting at his desk is none other then "The Incredible One" Eli Storm.
 
Storm: Jay-Jay...damn, I thought you would never show up!!!

SHOOT Project Owner and CEO Jason Johnson is a bit surprised at the intrusion, but passes it off for now.

Jason Johnson:  Well, you know how it is, man.  It's a bold new SHOOT Project, and I've got a lot of bold new responsibilities.

Eli smiles and stands up offering Jason his desk back.
 
Storm: I can understand...I mean reviving the dead and making it look good, while doing it is one big job.

Smiling, Jason Johnson takes his seat.  He offers a gesture to Storm, to sit across from him.  Storm does. 

Jason Johnson:  Sounds almost like you're kissing my ass, Eli! 

Jason laughs.

Jason Johnson:  But I agree with you, I think we've done pretty well here from the month or so behind the scenes preparation to these two shows these past couple of weeks. 

Storm laughs for a moment.
 
Storm: Now I know that you most likely made a mistake on leaving one of the must talented Iron Fist Champions off this lovely Iron Fist night. but I know it is because you have something better planned for me. I know that after all this time, you've finally are going to allow me to once again became SHOOT Project World Champion.

Jason smirks. 

Jason Johnson:  You must have arrived late to the show or something, because I announced a World Championship tournament at the very beginning.  Certainly, you were here for that, right?

Storm: Well, you see...what had happened is I had to spend a few hours teaching Mr. Kilminister about charisma, since he has none. So by the time I got finished with the first lesson, I was late.

Jason Johnson:  Mmhmm.  Well, whatever you had to do...  now you know that there's an opportunity to grasp World Championship gold once again.

Storm: Ahhh....I knew you were a genius. And you know what...just to prove how much I appreciate what you do. I'm going to go out to the ring and give you a Ratings Boost...free of charge.

Jason Johnson:  Do whatever you gotta do, man.  Have fun.  I...  well, I may not be here, but I've got my eyes and ears on everything.

Storm: Trust me, Boss man...it'll be one to remember!!!

With that Eli smiles and exits the office.

Drums sound off in the background, as the image of the Iron Fist Championship fades into view.

We go into a slideshow of sorts, featuring various Iron Fist Champions.

Jun Kenshin

X-Calibur

The Real Deal

and the original King of the Iron Fist... Ben Jackman.

This is but a small sampling of the lineage of the Iron Fist Championship, and with their names come stills of the many Iron Fist legends, standing over fallen opponents.

Then, the image changes to something current.

Dave Marz, standing over a defeated Killian Reilly, hands raised in celebration.

Then, to Corazon, standing over a fallen Jack Seishent, single arm raised in the air, looking out towards the crowd.

The image shifts one more time to the Iron Fist Championship, then Corazon, then Marz.

 

...who will it be?

Moments before his match, Trevor Worrens is standing backstage with SHOOT interviewer Abigail Chase. A standard SHOOT Project: Revolution backdrop hangs behind them both.  Worrens stands with his head lowered slightly, wearing black jeans and a white button up shirt, untucked.

Abigail Chase: Fans, I am standing here with one of SHOOT Project’s newest faces in this new era, Trevor Worrens.

Chase looks to Worrens for some sort of response, but he continues to look downward.

Abigail Chase: Right… Well Trevor, in just a couple of minutes you are heading out into that ring to face Whiplash, something that came to be after your encounter with him at the inaugural Revolution.

Trevor Worrens: It’s only been one week that passed, Abigail, save everyone, including me, the history lesson.

Worrens looks up now and his face can almost been seen, aside from his eyes, which are just covered by the bangs of his curly brown hair.

Trevor Worrens: So let’s talk about the present. Whiplash and Trevor Worrens.  This whole night has been about the Iron Fist Title, this whole night has been buzzing about championship belts.  The Iron Fist will be decided, and of course the BIG BOMB was dropped, and everyone in the back is worked up about the SHOOT Project World Championship. So why should anyone out there care about what’s in the immediate present?

Abigail Chase: Well because…

Trevor Worrens: I’m not asking you, Abigail, but I can, and WILL tell you why.  Because what happens in that ring tonight, is a determining factor into how I am viewed in regards to the SHOOT Project World Championship. That… Abigail, is something I want.  I will not sit here and act like “material possessions” don’t measure a man. Because in this profession, that’s what matters. The man I worshipped had me believing that titles and wins didn’t matter.  But you know what, Abigail, they do matter.  Because do you know who Vincent Mallows is?

Abigail thinks for a moment, but then shakes her head.

Abigail Chase: Not really, I mean...

Trevor Worrens: Exactly. The man didn’t have any accomplishments, he didn’t hold championships. That’s not going to be my fate.  My god failed me… Abigail Chase, but I will NOT fail myself.  Tonight…

Worrens stops as he hears the faint sound of “Don’t You Wish You Were Me” by Fozzy.  He smirks.

Trevor Worrens: Well it doesn’t matter right now, that’s my cue to make sure I have a right to stake my claim to the SHOOT Project World Championship.

Worrens storms off now, leaving Abigail Chase standing by herself.

“Don’t You Wish You Were Me.” continues to play and out in the ring area, Whiplash emerges from the back followed in toe by his good friend, and Monkey Boy, Steve.  He seems to get a mixed reaction from the crowd that is packing the Thomas and Mack Center tonight, but Whiplash flashes a grin anyway, looking to win all of them over tonight.  He takes a moment at the start of the ramp way pointing to different spots of the crowd and then pointing to a white “I Love Whiplash” T-shirt that Steve holds up.

Dave Dymond: Strong words from that man’s opponent bring us right into our next match. Other Guy, how do you see this one playing out?

Other Guy: Normally I’d say Whiplash here is takin’ stuff WAY too lightly, but we all saw it go down last week when that clown, Smiles, got himself some gold.

Dave Dymond: I think he prefers Jester, O.G.

Other Guy: I KNOW he prefers Revolution Champion, Dave, which is my point. Whiplash may carry with him that ego and those jokes, but that don’t mean he can’t walk away a winner tonight.

The music hits a second run of the chorus and after Whiplash tosses the shirt out to one lucky fan, he starts his way down to the ring.

Samantha Coil: Ladies and gentlemen this next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Townsville Australia, he weighs in tonight at 212 pounds, here is WHIPLASH!!!

Whiplash stops in mid-stride and raises both his arms up.  Again the crowd seems mixed, but that doesn’t stop Whiplash from tagging hands with the fans who reach out over the protective guard railing.

Dave Dymond: Whiplash definitely looking for some respect and admiration from the crowd, but I think he is going to have to do a little more than a couple of crowd pleasing antics.  Victory here tonight solidifies this new face to SHOOT Project as a legit competitor and maybe even one the fans can rally behind.

Whiplash is just about to reach the ring, when suddenly the fans begin to buzz and all eyes turn back to the entryway to the ring area. Trevor Worrens charges down from behind, not waiting for his music or a proper introduction.

Dave Dymond: Worrens wasting no time right off the get go here, and Whiplash not even aware!

Other Guy: Shit’s goin down right now!

Worrens shoves Steve out of the way and quickly grabs the back of Whiplash’s head!  Whiplash has no time to react and Worrens SMASHES him face first into the edge of the ring!  Worrens then shoves Whiplash under the bottom rope, and goes in after him.  Groggy, Whiplash starts to roll to another edge of the ring to get out.  Samantha Coil quickly gets out of harms way, just as Worrens enters the ring.  Whiplash rolls out of the ring, grabbing at his face, and Worrens stands there, shouting at him to get back into the ring.

Whiplash starts to get up, when he sees Steve slide into the ring from the side of Worrens. The fans actually begin to pick up as Steve sneaks up behind Worrens and then jumps on his back, trying to pull him down with a sleeper/choke hold of sorts!

Other Guy: What’s the fool doing in there? He’s going to get his own friend disqualified!

Dave Dymond: This is actually legal, O.G.  Tony Lorenzo has not called for the bell, so this match hasn’t even officially started.

Worrens struggles with Steve on his back, but suddenly reaches behind, grabs Steve’s head, and just SNAPS him over and onto the mat.

Other Guy: Ha-ha, a little whiplash for whiplash’s monkey boy. Serves the kid right.

Worrens looks down with frustration at Steve who writhes on the mat in pain, and the distraction allows for Whiplash to charge into the ring and nail Worrens with a running clothesline! Worrens hits the mat, and now referee Tony Lorenzo calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Dave Dymond: This one starts now officially with Whiplash on the upper hand.

Worrens gets himself back up, only for Whiplash to hit the adjacent ropes and catch Worrens with another clothesline. Worrens goes down again and Whiplash starts pumping up the crowd by shouting at Worrens.  Worrens is slower to get up this time, and as he rises to his feet, the referee finishes aiding Steve out of the ring and quickly gets his focus back on the match at hand.  Whiplash moves in at Worrens, who suddenly lunges up to meet Whiplash with a hard knee into his side.  Whiplash falters but reaches out to lock Worrens into grapple. Worrens throws up another knee, and then another, making it close to impossible for Whiplash to get a strong enough hold on Worrens.  Whiplash shifts his game plan now and attempts to knock the knee strikes away, as Worrens continues to back him up closer to the left side ring ropes.

Whiplash finds his back up against the ropes, and he quickly ducks half way out, immediately calling for a time out!  The fans react, many laughing as referee Tony Lorenzo breaks up the fight, and motions for Worrens to move back.

Other Guy: Killed the momentum on that one, but that’s bout the only thing Whiplash coulda done to get himself out of the way of those knees from Trevor Worrens.

Dave Dymond: Worrens very limited in his arsenal of wrestling holds and strikes, but what he does know, he has focused on perfecting, and we saw that as each of those knee strikes met the direct target of Whiplash’s lower ribs.

After holding the “time out” signal for a moment, Whiplash gets back into the ring fully, and Worrens fakes a lunge in which has Whiplash quickly dodge to one side.  Worrens uses that as his window of opportunity to strike again, but this time Whiplash is ready and as Worrens comes in, he side steps and NAILS a dropkick to Worrens back.  Worrens stumbles forward into the ropes, bouncing off of them slightly and Whiplash immediately pulls him back into a dragon sleeper hold!

Worrens immediately flails his free arm and kicks out his legs, reaching for the ropes.  Whiplash tries to pull back, but Worrens struggles too much and he gets to the rope. Whiplash makes a clean break and backs up from Worrens, who shakes the top rope a bit out of frustration.  Whiplash goes in again, and Worrens turns just in time catching Whiplash with a palm strike to the chest. Whiplash staggers back and Worrens hits a second palm jab, this time to the right shoulder blade.  Then a third palm strike to the left shoulder blade. 

Whiplash stumbles and Worrens ends the combination of strikes with a clothesline.  Whiplash hits the mat and Worrens makes the cover.

Other Guy: We got our first pin.

ONE! TWO!

Dave Dymond: those hard palm jabs not enough to keep Whiplash down on that one, but I think that pin was more of a way of Worrens sending a message to Whiplash. He said it himself just twenty four hours ago, Worrens wants to end this thing quick.

Worrens brings Whiplash up off the mat, only to immediately lock him into a front facing headlock and drop to the mat, kicking his legs out so both men are flat on their stomachs.  Worrens wrenches the headlock a few times, then floats over and quickly pulls Whiplash up into a camel clutch.  The referee drops down in front of Whiplash now checking on the situation, Whiplash struggles, but doesn’t tap out and Worrens breaks the hold completely on his own.

Whiplash starts to get up, but Worrens stomps down hard on his back, and locks on the camel clutch right again.

Other Guy: You have ta dig the tenacity of this guy, Worrens, Dave.  He’s not lettin’ up.

Dave Dymond: I’d give him that, sure, but this feels more like Worrens is purposely trying to add a little insult to injury, breaking his own submission hold only to lock it right back in.  He’s basically toying with Whiplash in his mind.

Whiplash shouts out in pain as Worrens pulls back on the head and neck, and slowly some of the fans inside the Thomas and Mack Arena start to chant and cheer, rallying behind Whiplash.  Worrens shakes his head, disgusted with their reactions, but more and more catch on and soon a large portion of the arena is filled with cheering.

“LET’S GO WHIPLASH!”  “LET’S GO WHIPLASH!”

Whiplash starts fighting against the camel clutch now, trying to pry Worrens’s hands away from his chin.  Worrens breaks on his own again and tries to get the better of Whiplash right away, pulling him up, but Whiplash grabs the legs and sweeps Worrens onto his back and quickly looks to lock in a figure four leg lock!

Dave Dymond: Submission for submission as Whiplash now showing what he knows best from his background… and that’s making someone tap.

Other Guy: You know bout Whiplash’s background?

Dave Dymond: I’ve done my research.

Worrens tries to fight off Whiplash from locking on the figure-four, trying to kick out one leg in his direction. Whiplash improvises and with the one leg he has a hold of he drops a quick leg drop and bends the leg, while twisting the ankle slightly.

Dave Dymond: An impromptu ankle lock and leg twist it would appear, and that’s certainly one way to counter a counter.

Worrens uses his arm strength and his flailing leg to again scramble to the ropes. Whiplash tries to pull him back, and finally gets up, still holding Worrens’s left leg.  He starts to pull him back, when Worrens STIFF KICKS Whiplash in the arm!  Whiplash reels back, clutching his wrist in pain, and some of the fans boo the blatant shot from Worrens.  Worrens gets up to his feet, and with Whiplash bent over, clutching his wrist, Worrens quickly hooks the headlock again, but this time snaps backwards into a standard DDT.

Another cover by Worrens, and Lorenzo makes the count.

ONE!

TWO!

TH… Whiplash despite the pain pushes Worrens off of him with both arms.  Whiplash rolls to the side while Worrens gets up, again frustrated that this match isn’t over yet.

Other Guy: You watch a match like this, Dave, and ya gotta be thinking, after what Worrens said, that the World Title is really a motivation point. And hell it’s not just for Worrens, every single body that makes up the SHOOT Project locker room is goin’ to be gunning for that belt.

Dave Dymond: Of course these past two weeks WILL be taken into consideration as more and more of the SHOOT Project superstars set out to prove themselves in the ring, and Worrens trying to capitalize on just that, but like you said, its everyone, and Whiplash showing he’s not a push over.

Whiplash gets up to one knee, and sees Worrens coming at him again.  Whiplash sends out a quick chop that catches Worrens just about the belt.  Worrens staggers, and Whiplash moves in again, still on one knee, with another chop to the gut.  Worrens is slightly winded by that one, and Whiplash springs up to his feet and hits a jumping punch with his one good arm!  That takes Worrens down to the mat, and Whiplash stands there for a moment, as the fans pick up, shouting for Whiplash to make the pin.  Whiplash considers it for a moment, but then grabs the legs of Worrens once again.

Other Guy: What’s with this cat? Pin the man!

Dave Dymond: Whiplash has a look in his eyes, O.G, and I think he wants to put an exclamation with his point and make Worrens submit!

The fans cheer now as Whiplash goes through the motions, and soon has Trevor Worrens locked in his version of the Texas Cloverleaf.

Dave Dymond: Whiplash has complete control of this one now as he locks in what I believe he calls… yes I have my facts right here, that is the Townsville Turnover. A little homage being paid to his hometown.

Referee Tony Lorenzo examines the situation now, and crouches down by Worrens’s face, asking him if he gives up. Worrens grinds his teeth and shakes his head no.  Whiplash keeps the hold locked on though, the fans actually getting into him now.

Other Guy: I think he’s winning them over, Dave, hell I even think I gotta a little soft spot for his ego.

Dave Dymond: A unique character indeed, but when it comes to in ring work, like we’ve said before, he’s more than capable of getting serious.

Worrens continues to struggle, and some of the fans closer to the ring start chanting “TAP! TAP! TAP!” but Worrens refuses, trying to army crawl his way towards the ropes.  Slowly but he surely he starts to make his way to the ropes, and Whiplash does what he can to keep him from pulling back, trying to sit further on his back.  Worrens shouts out in pain now as his momentum is stopped for a moment.  Worrens reaches out for the ropes, and again Lorenzo asks if Worrens gives up. This time he shouts much louder.

Trevor Worrens: NO!

Lorenzo motions for the match to continue and Worrens shakes for a moment, his adrenaline taking over as he once again starts to army crawl. The once cheering fans settle now, as they see Worrens get closer and closer, until finally he grips the bottom rope tightly!  Lorenzo calls for the submission hold to be broken, and Whiplash hesitates for a moment, but breaks clean almost immediately.

Dave Dymond: Whiplash I think disappointed on that one, and really these fans thought he had Worrens right where he wanted him too.

Other Guy: Whiplash has taken a beatin though, Dave, and he’s just now had a very good lock on those legs. He’s wearin’ Worrens down, but not enough to end this just yet.

Worrens hooks his entire arm around the rope now, while Whiplash sizes him up, looking to the corner. As Worrens pulls himself up by the ropes, Whiplash suddenly sprints to the lower right corner of the ring.  The fans rise to their feet as they watch Whiplash jump to the top with ease.  He bounces off the top rope turnbuckle and turns in mid-air, looking to plant a dropkick right into Worrens’s face!

Whiplash flies in…

Worrens dodges quick!

And Whiplash hits nothing but the ring mat!  Worrens quickly responds, grabbing the top rope with both hands and then lifting himself upward.  Worrens then swings back down and PLANTS the bottom of both his shoes into Whiplash’s side, sending him spilling out to the arena floor.

Dave Dymond: High-risk move doesn’t pay off for Whiplash, and not a happy landing either.

Other Guy: Quick thinking on Worrens part though.

Dave Dymond: Quick and maybe even smart thinking as Tony Lorenzo starts the count out.  Whiplash landed on the outside pretty badly on that arm that Worrens’s targeted earlier.

One!

Worrens paces for a moment, apparently letting Lorenzo count Whiplash out.

Two!

Three!

Four!

Whiplash starts to rise up to his feet, holding his arm a great deal.

Five!

Worrens shakes his head now and goes out of the ring as well, despite Lorenzo calling him off.  Worrens drops down to the floor and grabs Whiplash by his injured arm.  He pulls him in quick and DRIVES his own shoulder into Whiplash’s arm, forcing Whiplash to shout in pain.  Worrens then quickly rolls him back into the ring. Worrens enters close behind, and the count-out ends.  Whiplash writhes on the mat in pain and Worrens again starts to pace, glaring down at Whiplash.

Other Guy: Oh man, I ain’t got a good feeling about this one, Dave.

Dave Dymond: Worrens looks MORE than primed to end this thing. And look at him just stalking over Whiplash. Trevor Worrens presents himself as a calm, almost introspective individual, but I think we’re seeing the true nature of the beast here.

Whiplash tries to sit up, and something inside of Worrens seems to snap as at that moment he storms in behind Whiplash, kneels down, and grabs the injured hard and bends it backwards overhead and locks Whiplash’s wrist into his armpit!  Whiplash screams in pain while Worrens then wraps his free arm under Whiplash’s chin, and then puts his other arm through the arch created by Whiplash’s own arm!  Whiplash struggles and Worrens immediately squeezes Whiplash’s neck and arm, causing a great deal of pressure!

Dave Dymond: An arm hook sleeper locked on, and Trevor Worrens notes that as the BBR, Other Guy. As in Broken Beyond Repair!

Whiplash screams out in agony and flails his legs in front of him, trying to kick out in the direction of the ropes. Unfortunately Whiplash is just out of reach, and Worrens keeps him from moving.  The fans try to rally behind Whiplash, but Whiplash looks to be in absolute horrible pain.

Lorenzo bends down in front of Whiplash, asking if he wants to tap.  Whiplash can’t shake his head one way or another, and he just keeps shouting in pain.  Worrens squeezes a bit tighter, trying to force the tap out of Whiplash.

Other Guy: Cat’s gonna pass out soon if this keeps up.

Dave Dymond: Trevor Worrens showing no sign of breaking the hold, and Whiplash showing no sign of being able to get out of this. I hate to say it, but this could be it tonight for Whiplash.

Whiplash flails his legs one more time, but it’s of no use.  Finally Whiplash brings himself to tap out, and referee Tony Lorenzo calls for the bell!  Worrens squeezes one more time, but then lets go.  Whiplash falls to the mat completely as Worrens rises to his feet.  “Breath” by Breaking Benjamin begins to play.

Samantha Coil: Your winner of the match… TREVOR WORRENS!

Trevor paces about the ring for a moment, looking down at Whiplash, who holds his arm in a great deal of pain.  Worrens then turns his focus to the outside, and quickly exits the ring.  He snatches up one of the free microphones from off the timekeeper’s table.

Trevor Worrens: Hey Whip!

As he talks, Worrens’s music cuts off.  Worrens rolls back into the ring and stands up, looking down at Whiplash. Tony Lorenzo is crouched down by him, checking on his condition.

Trevor Worrens: He doesn’t need your help. (Worrens swats Lorenzo away) I said hey Whip!  Look at me!

Worrens gets down closer to Whiplash, who just looks at him through winced eyes.

Trevor Worrens: Now is the moment you have to make a decision. Does it end here? Do you tuck tail and move on.  Or do you try to make a point? Do you redeem yourself? That’s square on your head, Whip. You want these people to love you?  MAKE THEM LOVE YOU!

Worrens rises up to his feet, drops the microphone right by Whiplash, and heads out of the ring, his music starting up once again.  Lorenzo comes back to Whiplash’s aid while Worrens is accompanied to the back by boos from the crowd.

Dave Dymond: What do you make of that. Worrens assaults Whiplash in the opening moments of this match, takes a blatantly stiff shot at his arm, and forces Whiplash to tap before passing out… but then turns it all around as some form of motivation?

Other Guy: Sick motivation if ya want my opinion on it, Dave.

Dave Dymond: Hopefully the injury to Whiplash’s arm isn’t too serious, and he’ll be able to attempt to stake his claim to the SHOOT Project World Championship. But speaking of championships, it’s coming up in just a few moments. The competitors have been decided, and soon we will know who will stand as SHOOT Project’s Iron Fist Champion!

We cut away to the backstage area, and the fans roar with approval, as they see 'Red Hot' Ray Willmott dressed for combat, come out of his locker room, a bottle of water in hand. The fans are showing him a great deal of respect after the incredible match he had with 'Diamond' Del Carver last week, and are extremely pleased to see him back on his feet, and still with the company after the epic confrontation. Ray takes a slow, methodical march along a long white corridor, and seems to be preparing himself for something, but what, we're not exactly sure. He nods his head to a few staff members he passes along the way, and shares a smile with others.

He pours some of the water down his throat and then over his head and turns a corner.

Stood before him is a long black curtain leading to the ringside area. The fans pop heartily, seeing that Willmott is quite close to them, and is set to come out to the ring, to say something.

He takes a deep breath and walks forward.

Barker: Well, well, well... if it isn't SHOOT's very own Comic Book Guy.

Willmott looks to his left to see none other than "Ravishing" Ron Barker leaning against a wall and smirking in his direction.

'Red Hot' Ray Willmott: ...Ron.

Ray speaks as if he has just been woken up, and shaken out of a dream.

Barker looks towards the curtain and look back at Willmott.

Barker: Going out there to address those morons, eh? Got some epic speech in mind? Let me guess... something along the lines of 'Gee, thanks for your support guys! You're the best!'

The crowd boos Barker's patronising tone

'Red Hot' Ray Willmott: ...I've a few things to get off my chest, sure. Last week's match with Carver was one of the turning points of my career. A career a lot of those people out there have supported and encouraged.

Barker rolls his eyes

Barker: Give me a break, Ray. What has support and encouragement from these 'fans' ever done for you? Hell of a match with Carver last week... I'll give you that... but I didn't see that support and encouragement help you avoid laying flat on your back at the end of the night.

Ray's eyes widen. The crowd feels the ferocity behind his posture, and they react accordingly.

'Red Hot' Ray Willmott: ...You're right Ron, I did lose. If you're keeping score, I lost a singles match for the first time in just over a year!! With every victory I've claimed, my momentum has snowballed and led me to prosperity. But this loss, this is different, this is something that I am forced to develop from. I was finding it hard to put Carver away, so I was going to execute a move, that I knew damn well no mortal being could recover from in time! But Carver's instinct got the better of me, Ron and yes, I did fail!

Ray closes in a bit on Ron Barker.

'Red Hot' Ray Willmott: ...But that, by no means, proves I am done!

The crowd pops. Barker looks unimpressed.

Barker: How inspiring. Almost makes me want to feed some starving kids in Africa or something. So tell me, Ray... you failed, the fans did nothing for you... why even go out there? What is there to say? No one likes to hear someone say "Sure, I failed... but I did my best!" The bottom line, Ray, is that you failed. That's all they'll hear. What could you POSSIBLY say that they'll care about?

Ray Willmott wants to respond, he wants to rip into Ron Barker. He wants to give him the full brunt of his speech. He wants him to believe.

But words are beginning to fail him.

His mind is growing blank.

Even though he is staring into Ron Barker's eyes, he seems to be far away, distant, distracted.

Barker: Listen, Ray... we go back a long time... I know how you think... these fans don't care if you come out there and say that you did your best... it doesn't translate to a win and that's all that these people care about.

Barker pauses and let's Ray think about what he just said. He sees a small sense of doubt washing over his face.

Barker: I imagine you've got lofty goals here in SHOOT, no?

Willmott furrows his brow.

'Red Hot' Ray Willmott: ...I'll do whatever it takes to get the grand prize and ...

Barker cuts him off.

Barker: Yeah, yeah... I get it. But tell me, man... what kind of champion comes out here after every loss and says that he appreciates the support and encouragement? Losses like that and you won't even have that.

Barker places a hand on Ray's shoulder.

Barker: Hang back. Think about what you're doing. Everyone wants the big one, Ray... but some of us just aren't meant to have it. Go back to your dressing room. Take a long look in that mirror and ask yourself... am I ready for this? Do I really have what it takes?

Barker: Because the Ray Willmott I'm looking at doesn't seem to have it. And I only say this... because I'm a friend.

Barker stares at Ray with a slight glint of malice in his eyes. Ray stares at his feet, almost dejectedly. He seems to keep looking at them for the longest time, as if they trying to draw inspiration from but finding no clarity. Finally, Willmott casts his attention to the curtain, which elicits a thunderous reaction from the crowd on hand. He doesnt' say anything, merely looking ahead, feeling the urge to burst out into the ring.

But the fiery feeling inside is starting to quell. The anticipation, the belief that he was about to go out there and tell the World how much he has learned, how much better he will become, is starting to subside.

Barker, starting to grin, breaks the silence.

Barker: I have to go, Ray. I've got someone I need to catch up with. Forget about them. Go home and take a few days to think about things. Go visit the shop. Do whatever it is you did before this... because this? This isn't for you, Ray. Last week proved it.... you're not 'Red Hot', man. It's just not your time anymore.

Ray quirks an eyebrow and watches Barker walk away. For the first time, he finds himself at a total loss for words, his motivation completely lost. The fans look on in surprise, as Willmott actually starts to heed Barker's advice and look away from the curtain. The camera follows him, watches him, walk back to his locker room in silence.

We cut back to ringside.

As the crowd is buzzing about the matches they seen so far, the SHOOT-Tron lights up. You see a group of doctors working away feverishly at a body on the table. One of the Doctors turns around and walks towards an intercom. He hits the talk button.

Doctor: I can repair him and get him back to 100%. It may take a while, but I can do it.

Suddenly  voice replies….

Voice: Getting him back to his normal 100% is not what I want. I need him to be better…faster….stronger than before.

Suddenly the chorus of Jay Z’s “Oh My God” blares…

You know my story, I've been through it all
Night's I've felt like dying, but I ain't crying
What didn't kill me, made me strong as
Iron, Iron, Iron
Oh my God…INCREDIBLE!!!”

Nine Inch Nails - "Just Like You Imagined" blares as out walks Eli Storm to the top of the entrance ramp as the crowd reacts to him. Storm is wearing black dress shoes and tan dress pants, white button up shirt with the top buttons undone, a silver watch and a pair of thin framed black shades. Eli grins and brushes his shoulder off before making his way down to the ring. Storm is focused on the ring as he makes his way down. The SHOOT-Tron reads.

“The Return Of The Incredible”

The crowd explodes at the sight of the former SHOOT World Champion. Storm slides into the ring and jumps up on the nearest turnbuckle. Storm crosses his arms in the air as Canadian Colored streamers explodes through the air along with an arena of pyro. Storm hops off the turnbuckle and is handed a mic by a ring hand.

Eli Storm: That’s right SHOOT fans…Storm Addicts, do not adjust your sets. You are not watching a flashback from Vegas. No, what you see here in front of you is what you have been waiting and praying for. And I’m not talking about the second season of The Boondocks, even though as Uncle Ruckus said…there is some powerful Ni…

Before Storm can finish the statement, A man in a suit rushes down and slides into the ring. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out an parental advisory sticker and places it over Storm’s mouth. The man turns around and gives the thumbs up signal and leaves the ring. Storm looks bewildered for a moment. Storm rips the sticker off and tosses it outside of the ring.

Storm: Well alright…let me re-phrase that. There is now way you were going to have a return of SHOOT without “The Incredible One”. Now let me just get this out of the way, right here and right now and declare that I am throwing my incredible hands into the World Title tourney. Now I should have to explain why I should be let into the tourney, my track record speaks for itself. I could sit here and talk about all the titles I was able to grab in my first year in SHOOT. I could run down the list of names I’ve defeated that seems like a who’s who list of this sport. I could sit here and talk about the insane matches that I have had that kept people glued to their seats. No, the reason why I am here….the reason why I want in the tourney is because of the man by the name of OutKast.

The fans cheers at the mention of one of SHOOT’s four corners of heaven.

Eli Storm: I watched Kast cement himself as the back bone of this company. Carrying its burden when it was too much for others. I watched him become a focused World Champion and make his mark as the true Franchise of that SHOOT era. And that is my goal. That is my focus…my drive.

Storm pauses and takes off his shades. He slips them into the front pocket of his button up.

Eli Storm: In this new SHOOT era, I shall continue where he left off. I will pick up the load left by him and become not only the next SHOOT Project World Champion, but I will also become this company’s FRANCHISE!!!

Storm grins and tosses the mic to the ring hand as he slides out of the ring and heads to the back.

Dave Dymond: Guys, I know we're supposed to be calling what's going on out here but I'm getting word that Eryk Masters is standing backstage with someone who is demanding to be heard.

Other Guy: Well, let's stop talking about it and get back there! Eryk! What the fuck is going on, man?

We cut backstage to see a very anxious and nervous Eryk Masters with a microphone in hand as a very irate and angry man is pacing behind him. None other than "Ravishing" Ron Barker.

Masters: Guys, I'm standing back here with Ron Barker and he's demanded this air-time as he claims he has--

Before Masters can finish his thought, Barker grabs the microphone and pushes Masters off camera. His eyes are seething with rage as he tries to calm himself down so he can speak.

Barker: You know, I tried to be civil about this. I tried to invite you here to Revolution so we could talk face to face and clear the air between us... but what did you do? You decided to pay me the ultimate insult and stand me up. That's fine. That was the choice you decided to make.

Barker begins to laugh to himself before sighing. He looks back into the camera and finishes his thought.

Barker: Next week? You'd better realize that your choices have consequences. Now I don't know where you are or what you're doing... but if you're watching this? You know how dangerous I can be. It'd be in your best interesting to show up next week. This shit is about to get personal.

VERY fucking personal.

With that, Barker walks off camera as Revolution fades to black.

 

We see Samantha Coil standing in the spotlight, chatting with referee Scott Kamura. The fans are buzzing in anticipation of the finals of the one night tournament to crown the new SHOOT Project Iron Fist Champion.

“Have A Nice Day” by Bon Jovi begins to play and the fans turn and look up the aisle to the entranceway in anticipation. The SHOOT Project veteran Dave Marz strides into the aisle. Marz stalks down the aisle, climbs the steps to the ring, and easily steps into the ring. Die Hard takes a position in the far corner, as his music fades.

After a moment, the AlieNation remix of “My Own Summer” starts to play. Corazon slowly walks down the aisle towards the ring, reaches the ringside area, and he slides under the bottom rope and stands up in the center of the ring. Samantha takes the microphone in hand to make the introductions…

Samantha Coil: “Ladies and Gentlemen your Main Event for this evening is the FINALS of the single night elimination tournament to crown your NEW Iron Fist Champion! Introducing first, in the corner to my right, from Ozone Park, New York...weighing 270 pounds...DIE HARD...DAVE MARZ!”

The sold out crowd applauds loudly as Samantha turns to the opposite corner...

Samantha Coil: “His opponent hails from Mexico City, and he weighs in at 225 pounds...this is CORAZON!”

Corazon pumps his fist into the air, as Scott Kamura calls for the bell. Corazon and Dave Marz both approach the middle of the ring. For a long moment, both Corazon and Die Hard Dave Marz stand toe to toe in the center of the ring, locked in a staredown.  The crowd is now on their feet cheering, and flashbulbs are going off all over the arena. Neither man is blinking.

Finally Corazon extends both of his arms, preparing to lock up with Marz.  Dave Marz wants none of that, and he cocks his arm back, and fires a straight cross, right at Corazon!

BAM! The punch from Marz staggers Corazon, and he stumbles but does not fall down.  Incredibly, Corazon straightens up, and calls Marz on!  Corazon gestures to Marz, daring him to hit him again!

Other Guy:  “Here we go.  The name of the game is knock your opponent the fuck out, and Corazon and Marz ain’t wasting any time in playing!”

Dave Dymond:  “I have to tell you I am very concerned for both of these men’s health, OG.  In the history of SHOOT Project, there is nothing harder on your body than an Iron Fist match...and both of these men have already been in one tonight!”

Other Guy: “Whoever wins this title tonight earned it the hard way, that’s for damn sure.”

Dave Marz shrugs indifferently, and fires another sharp right cross at Corazon, which nails him squarely in the forehead!  Corazon staggers backward into the ropes, and bounces off, shaking his head in pain.  He steadies himself, and then motions to Marz to hit him again!

The fans roar in approval, as Dave Marz rolls his eyes in disgust.  Marz winds up, and hammers Corazon across the face with a sweeping roundhouse punch.  Corazon falls back into the ropes, but this time Marz steps in and follows up!

Dave Marz starts to bury a flurry of uppercut bodyshots into the midsection of Corazon.  Each punch literally lifts Corazon off the canvas upon impact, and finally Dave Marz backs up, measure Corazon off, and then nails the Mexican fighter right in the nose with a straight right jab! Dave Marz backs up, and watches in satisfaction as Corazon falls face first to the mat!

Corazon falls flat, and lies there motionless.  Dave Marz stands back and orders Scott Kamura to issue the standing ten count...

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five...

Corazon starts to get up slowly and the fans applaud in relief.

Dave Dymond:  “It’s been said already, but I have to say it again, these Iron Fist matches are tailor made for a guy like Dave Marz.  This is what he does best, brawls.  Corazon to me is more of a technical wrestler, which puts him at the disadvantage in this kind of match.”

Other Guy:  “I don’t totally agree.  A brawler can do nothing but just brawl, but there are lots of so-called technical moves which will knock you out for the ten count.”

Corazon leans on the rope holding his head. Finally, he approaches the middle of the ring again, and Die Hard Dave Marz goes on the offensive! Marz grabs Corazon by the back of the head, picks him up, and runs him back first into the corner, against the turnbuckles!  Marz follows in with another brutal series of bodyshots.

Corazon shoves Dave Marz backward with both hands, and then steps forward, and slaps Marz across the chest with a blistering knife-edge chop! The sound of Corazon smacking Marz across the chest literally echoes throughout the arena!  The fans murmur in excitement at the sound.  Dave Marz backs off, holding his chest and wincing in pain. 

Dave Marz stands up straight, and calls Corazon on, daring him to do it again!  Marz slaps his own chest, and beckons to Corazon!  Corazon looks at Marz in shock, but shrugs. Corazon steps into another brutal knife-edge chop, and fires it with all of his might!

 

The crowd groans in sympathy for Dave Marz.  Marz once again grimaces from the blistering impact of the knife-edge chop, but once again he calls Corazon on!  The fans applaud the bravery of Die Hard!

Dave Dymond: “What the hell is Dave Marz doing?  He’s not fighting with his head; he’s fighting with his heart.  These guys aren’t wrestling, they’re playing “top this” and somebody is going to get hurt!”

Other Guy: “Dave Marz comes by the nickname DIE HARD honestly, you know.  He is not going to back off, he is not going to back down, and he is not going to quit...ever.”

Corazon places both his hands on the chest of Dave Marz, and shoves him half way across the ring, into the corner. Corazon stands back, and unleashes a blinding flurry of knife-edge chops across the chest of Dave Marz!  With blistering speed and uncanny precision, Corazon fires a rapid succession of repeated chops across Die Hard’s torso!  The echo of Corazon’s forearm slicing across Marz’s chest can be heard all around the packed arena, as the fans once again come to their feet! 

Corazon nails Die Hard with chop after chop after chop, so fast his arm is a blur…and finally…when he can chop no more, he steps back, raises both his arms over his head and SLAPS down across the chest of Die Hard, Dave Marz! Dave Marz winces with the pain, and he slumps over and hits the mat!

Corazon points at the referee, and Kamura starts to make the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Dave Marz jumps to his feet!

The fans roar again, impressed by the show of courage and intensity that they are seeing from Die Hard.  Corazon measures Marz off for another chop, and smacks Marz with it.  Marz reels backward, but then steps forward and hammers Corazon in the side of the head with a roundhouse! 

Corazon stumbles sideways, but he soon regains his composure, and answers Marz with another knife-edge chop!  Marz screams in a combination of rage and pain, and fires back with yet another roundhouse!  Corazon falls slightly, but then steadies himself, and fires another chop!

The fans have no choice but to once again come to their feet, as Corazon and Dave Marz begin to trade equally back and forth!  Corazon will smack Marz across his chest with a knife-edge chop; Marz will sway backward, but then rebound and hit Corazon upside the head with a roundhouse!  Corazon fill start to stumble and fall to the side, but he will then regain his balance, and fire back with another chop!

The two men start to exchange the shots, back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again!  Chop by Corazon!  Punch by Marz!  Chop!  Punch!  Marz!  Corazon!  Smack!  Wham!  It is an intense showdown between two men who will not give an inch or back up!

Corazon grabs the collar of Die Hard’s black and red “Die Hard” T-Shirt, and rips it open, shredding the garment and tossing it aside, leaving Marz bare-chested in black jeans and wrestling boots.  We can see the bare chest of Dave Marz now for the first time, and it isn’t pretty!

Dave Dymond: “Fans, this is one of the damndest things I have ever seen!  Corazon and Dave Marz are literally pounding and chopping the hell out of each other, back and forth!”

Other Guy: “Will you look at the chest of Die Hard!  It’s bright red and purple from all the burst blood vessels!  And look at Corazon!  His left eye is swelling shut...and his nose is bleeding!”

Indeed, both men are looking the worse for wear as they continue to take turns alternately slapping or punching each other!  The fans are now clapping along, and every time either man lands a blow, the crowd yells “BOOM” at the top of their lungs! 

The insane exchange continues, but both men are now dripping with sweat.  Both of them start to slump forward, and with each blow the other lands, it is taking longer to recover.  Finally, Marz hits Corazon with a weak looking shot, which Corazon shoves away.  Corazon answers with a slap that is so weak, you cannot even hear it. Both men finally stop hitting each other...and both fall backward and collapse to the mat in exhaustion!

The fans deliver a deafening ovation, and finally take their seats again.  Scott Kamura looks down at Dave Marz, who is holding his chest, and lying flat on his back on one side of the ring.  Kamura looks over at Corazon, who is flat on his back, with his left eye totally swollen shut, and blood dribbling down from his nose, on the other side of the ring.

Kamura shrugs, and starts to deliver the standing 10 count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Both men start to stir!

Eight!

Both men sit up!

Nine!

Before Kamura can hit the 10 count, Corazon crawls over to the ropes on his side of the ring, and Dave Marz rolls over to the ropes on his side.  Both men simultaneously use the ropes to pull themselves to their feet! The fans applaud again, and an exhausted Corazon and Dave Marz stand across the ring from each other, glaring at each other warily.

Dave Dymond: “Well, I don’t even know what to say here.  We almost ended up with a NO CONTEST for our tournament final!”

Other Guy: “For the record, has either of these guys used ONE pro wrestling move in this match yet?  Damn!  This is not wrestling, this is pure guts!  This is coming down to who wants this title more.”

The two men stumble towards each other.  Dave Marz throws a weak looking left cross.  Corazon manages to sidestep the punch, and spin Marz around.  Corazon locks Marz up in a rear waistlock, and fires him backward with a German Suplex!

Corazon gets up and shouts at Kamura to make the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Dave Marz gets to his knees, shaking his head.

Corazon moves towards Die Hard, but Marz grabs one side of Corazon’s head, and holds it steady.  With the other heavily taped fist, he starts to fire an insane barrage of rabbit punches into the side of Corazon’s head!

Dave Marz’s taped fist is a blur, as he pummels Corazon in the head with punches!  Corazon falls to the mat, stunned.  A weary Dave Marz yells at Scott Kamura to make the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

No!

Corazon gets to one knee, and stands up shakily.

Dave Marz curses, and moves to lock up with Corazon, and execute another maneuver. Corazon sees his chance, and locks up Dave Marz in a bearhug, and then with one quick motion, he hurls Marz in an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! Dave Marz spikes into the mat, landing on his head! 

The crowd gasps, as Kamura makes the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

NO!

Marz is up!

Dave Dymond:  “I literally cannot believe the show of guts and courage we are witnessing here tonight by Die Hard Dave Marz.  At first, this match was nothing more than a brawl, which of course works to the advantage of Marz...but now the technical moves are coming fast and furious, and there is just something inside this man Marz which refuses to stay down!”

Other Guy:  “This could be the defining night of his career, Dymond.  Mind you, Corazon is showing me something too you know.”

Corazon grabs Dave Marz by the wrist, and whips him into the ropes.  Marz bounces off the ropes, but digs his heels into the mat, stops short, and fires a vicious looking overhead punch, which nails Corazon right in-between the eyes!  Corazon collapses backward and lands flat on his back, and Kamura makes the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Corazon gets up!

Dave Marz curses loudly again, and Die Hard fires another punch, but Corazon backs away and dodges, so Marz hits nothing but air. Corazon reaches out, and grabs Dave Marz around the wrist.  Corazon powerfully whips Marz into the far ropes, with an Irish Whip.

While Marz is bouncing off the far ropes, and heading back towards the center of the ring, Corazon backs up, and bounces off the ropes that are behind him, and then he takes a huge step forward.

Corazon hits the middle of the ring at the exact same time that Marz reaches it from the rebound.  Corazon fires a brutal clothesline across with his right arm.  The lariat connects with Dave Marz’s jaw, and the impact of the clothesline, combined with the momentum of Marz bouncing off the ropes, is enough to literally spin Marz around in the air, 360 degrees!

Dave Dymond: “HOLY CRAP!  WHAT A LARIAT!”

Other Guy: “Corazon just decapitated Dave Marz with that clothesline!”

The fans erupt as Dave Marz hits the mat, and Corazon calls for the standing ten count!  Kamura stands over the unconscious Dave Marz and makes the count...

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

No...NO!

Marz is up again!

The arena is shaking from the roar of the crowd, as Die Hard Dave Marz slowly pulls himself to his feet. Corazon stands across the ring from him looking half disgusted and half amazed.

The two men charge at each other, albeit a lot slower now that they are both exhausted.  They lock up.  Dave Marz executes a simple waist-lock-go-behind.  The fans come to their feet, as they know what this is setting up!  Die Hard has Corazon locked up in a rear waist-lock, and he tucks his head under Corazon’s arm and prepares to fire him backward with the Backdrop Driver known as the MARZ ATTACK!

Suddenly, Corazon discreetly reaches into his tights, and unseen by the referee, pulls out a small black cylinder.  As Marz starts to pivot backward with the Backdrop, Corazon holds the cylinder up towards the face of Die Hard...

A stream of liquid shoots out towards the face of Dave Marz!  You can almost hear him yell in pain over the roar of the crowd, and he immediately releases the waistlock and falls to the mat, holding his face in agony!

The crowd comes unglued, booing and jeering as loud as they can.  With a smirk on his face, Corazon hoists the blind and helpless Dave Marz up over his shoulders.  Die Hard cannot defend himself because it is rapidly becoming clear that he cannot see!  Corazon holds Die Hard aloft in the Fireman’s Carry position for a moment, steadies him, and then swings him through the air into a smooth motion, releases him, and executes a DDT!

The body of Dave Marz bounces off the mat from the thunderous impact, and his hands are still over his eyes as his feet are kicking in pain.  Scott Kamura stands over top of the blinded Die Hard Dave Marz and starts to make the count...

Kamura makes the count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

Ten!

The bell rings, and roof is almost lifted off the arena by the sound of booing and jeering.  The fans start to pelt the ring with garbage and debris, as Corazon screams in victory, pumping his fist in the air!

Samantha Coil: “Ladies and Gentlemen...at a time of 29 minutes and 48 seconds...here is your winner and your NEW SHOOT PROJECT IRON FIST CHAMPION...CORAZON!”

Dave Dymond: “We just witnessed a ROBBERY!”

Other Guy: “Hang on there, Dymond.  Corazon wrestled one hell of a match.  He just out-thought Dave Marz, which come on...isn’t that hard to do.  Dave Marz gets outsmarted by the kiddie maze on the placemats at Denny’s.”

Dave Dymond: “OG, are you going to try and sit there and tell me you didn’t see Corazon spray Dave Marz in the face with what was obviously MACE?”

The announcers show a replay of Dave Marz about to end the match and execute the “Marz Attack” when suddenly Corazon pulls the black cylinder out of his tights, aims it at the face of Dave Marz and fires it, causing Marz to release the hold and leaving him open for the “Fury Of The Dark Heart” by the NEW Iron Fist Champion, Corazon!

The fans are deafening as they hurl garbage at the ring, while Scott Kamura and Samantha Coil drop down and tend to Dave Marz, who still has his hands over his eyes. Corazon climbs to the top rope from inside the ring, and holds his brand new Iron Fist Championship title belt high overhead as the scene fades.