Revolution 125: 6/25/2014

The sound of eight thousand jeering fans booms through the arena. The show opens up on the Epitron with the Sin City Championship next to Dan Stein’s annoyingly grinning face greeting the viewers at home. The SHOOT Project globe appears in the upper left hand side of the video, with “#MasteroftheMat” on the upper right. The camera pans back to reveal Dan Stein laying across a stone litter, being carried by Tina and Toni in the room behind one of the SHOOT Project Sky Boxes.

Dan Stein: Sup, Peasants?

The fans immediately EXPLODE into boos, causing Stein to throw back his head in a cackle. Dan regains his composure and throws a leg over the edge of the litter, then the other, and hops down to the ground. Tina and Toni trot off camera with the litter still on their shoulders. As Dan walks toward the camera, a white spotlight is shown dancing across the arena, highlighting the Master of the Mat 2014 banners that adorn the walls and hang from the ceiling, until it lands on the Sin City Champion stepping out into the box of seats. Stein is wearing merely an extremely short and exposing white Toga, and has the Sin City Championship strapped to his chest like a bandolier, hiding the strap of cloth underneath. Dan raises up his hand in an attempt to quell the crowd, but only incites them further. Molly, Stein’s Assistant, walks down the stairs in a more conservative baby blue toga, carrying the microphone that she puts to his mouth.

Dan Stein:(picked up halfway through his sentence)EASE, SEIZE YOUR INCESSANT JIBBE

Molly, annoyed, pulls the microphone away, though Stein doesn’t seem to realize it. Continuing to speak, Dan rudely grabs the microphone from Molly’s hand.

Dan Stein: reigning Sin City Champion! And as such, I believe that it is only FAIR that I have a couple weeks to prepare myself for my Master of the Mat victory, and the return of the World Heavyweight Championship around my waist.(fans begin to boo, so Stein speaks over them)That is why I ordered Jason Johnson to award me this show off!

The fans cheer as they realize that Stein won’t be wrestling that night. A pocket of fans begin to start chanting. Dan raises his voice to talk over them.

Dan Stein: AND, BY RECOGNIZING(a little bit softer now)my true value to this company, over that of “Silver Fox” Jonny Johnson, “Human Fireball” Adrian Corazon, and(speaking quickly)thedudethatIbeatfairandsquareforhisWorldHeavyweightChampionshipatMasteroftheMat2013, Donovan King, Jas…JAS

Dan has no chance to continue as the eruption over the mention of Donovan King and Adrian Corazon drowns him out. Stein STOMPS his foot on the ground, and waves his hand over the crowd to try to stop them, only driving the crowd further into a frenzy. Stein puts his hand on his hip as he has to wait a few more moments before he can continue.

Dan Stein: …Jase spoke over his blithering idiot of a brother and the incredible imbecile that Josh calls his tag team partner, Sean Kygon, and gave me everything I asked for.(pausing, raising a finger as something pops into his head)Well, not everything.(again pausing, feigning disappointment)Apparently Tofu will not be making its way onto the Epicenter concession stands even though you are ALL fat hippos

Booing, Stein takes the time to smile and nod in glee. Smirking Stein looks down at one of the fans under him, points, and rubs his eyes with a pouty lip to feign tears while shouting “boo hoo” down at him. The chant starts to roll over the fans, though still barely audible.

Dan Stein: Now! As your Sin City Champion and the Master of the Mat 2014, I am going to sit in this Sky Box and watch the people fighting for a chance to lose to me, and I am going to do it in absolute QUIET. Enjoy my show. Even though I won’t be wrestling on it.

Dan smirks, lowering the microphone. The fans’ chant picks up steam now, and the entire arena turns toward him:

DAN HAS HER-PES!

DAN HAS HER-PES!

DAN HAS HER-PES!

Stein looks around and STOMPS his foot on the ground.

Dan Stein: HE DOES NOT. DAN DOES NOT HAVE HERPES. I DO NOT HAVE HERPES. I DON’T HA

Molly RIPS the microphone from Stein’s hand. A plastic water bottle is chucked up at Dan, whizzing right by his head and bouncing off one of the seats behind him. Dan ignores the bottle and begins waving his hands over the crowd in grand gestures to symbolize that he “owns” the arena. The camera begins to fade as Dan unhooks the Sin City Championship from his shoulder, and holds it high above his head, as the crowd continues to chant!

We get a brief glance of the Epicenter at its most calm… 

Of the fans, in attendance, off guard, unaware the show’s gone live.

Eryk Masters and Other Guy, both assumingly at their traditional spots, are silent.

There’s a beat.

A moment of serenity before…

…The lights GO OUT, and cheers erupt, instinctually, from the Las Vegas masses.

Darkness always excites a wrestling crowd.

A chorus of haunting chimes whispers over the PA system, interrupted by the single croak of a dissonant guitar chord…

WHIRRING ELECTRIC SOUNDS SWIVEL OUT from a second guitar!

The drums roll in…

And the sounds build into a DRIVING DISSONANCE!

SYMBOLS CLASH…  The music swells into something more romantic…

More beautiful.

DRUMS.  SYMBOLS. THE DISSOANCE GROWS INTO  BEAUTIFUL SOUND!

AS ONE!

AN EXPLOSION OF PYROTECHNICS go off at the entrance curtains, accompanied with a bright white spotlight!

The curtains rustle…

THE DEFILER.  IS.  HERE.

The 125th edition of Revolution is UNDERWAY! 

"Well, I got SHOT~! right in the ba-aaaaack,

And you were there! you were theeeeeere"

At the very first word from the first verse of "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)" by Broken Social Scene, JONNY JOHNSON storms through the curtains, and the SHOOT Project fans respond with a GENEROUS ROAR!  He’s dressed, suprisingly, in his ring attire: black wrestling shorts, black elbow and knee pads, black Adidas wrestling shorts, and knuckles wrapped in white tape, .  He even sports a white T-shirt with "Crip or Bust" scribbled across the front in black sharpie…  His dishwater blonde hair is a perfectly tussled, rolled out of bed mess, and is accompanied by an equally disheveled, greying hipster o’clock shadow.

"I said I was never coming back,

And you were there, you were there

Well I know the eyelids are under attack

You were there, you were there

Well, it’s like the pressure wants to retract

Cause you were there, you were there"

Masters and OG remain silent throughout Jonny’s arrival, letting the moment tell its own story.  Jonny playfully gabs with a few fans on his way down to the ring, stopping for a second at one guy, who apparently said SOMETHING to catch him off guard.  He laughs and shakes his head with an "Oh yeah?" expression on his face.  He then lunges forward and slaps a few dangling hands reaching over the baracade before picking up his pace a bit.

A few fans closer to the ring bow in unison, hands over their head, bobbing up and down…  which Jonny rolls his eyes at.  He instead points at THEM and lowers his head with clasped hands.  He appears sincerely appreciative and perhaps even slightly overwhelmed by the response from a crowd he hasn’t seen in such a "formal setting" for quite a while.

"And if God is what they made

Cut their hands off believers

Don’t get high on what you create

Jonny casually walks up the steel steps and into the ring.  He looks out at the sea of cheering fans from the apron, nods and ducks in between the middle and top rope.  Inside the ring, he’s greeted by SHOOT Project announcer Samantha Coil, who did appear ready to do the opening introductions.  The two, long-time friends, share a word before Coil smiles and hands him her microphone.   Jonny looks up toward the rafters and motions for the production crew to bring the lights up.

The music fades.

The lights are back.

Jonny Johnson stands, for a moment, silently, while the Epicenter greets him warmly.  A few boo birds get their shots in, but they’re mostly drowned out in the otherwise noisey praise.

He nods and thumbs at his nose, eyes and head titled down at the mat.

The DEFILER: Thank you.

He speaks earnestly and the fans applaud and follow with more cheers.

The DEFILER: (Still looking at the mat) I mean it.

He looks up.

The DEFILER: Thank you for being the best fans a human could ever want to stand in front of.  (Spinning around) My hats off to every single one of you.

He nods, and continues to speak through the ovation he’s receiving, wanting to remain on point.

The DEFILER: I’m not an easy person to cheer for so I appreciate this.  I do, and I’d love nothing more than to be able to wrestle in front of all your wonderful fucking faces for the opportunity to be a part of this year’s Master of the Mat Tournament….

…But I have a few doctors who insist that that’s a bad idea…

He trails off and the crowd boos the statement.

The DEFILER: (Continuing) This tournament is one of the most important events in our sport.  It’s a grueling, ultra-competitive war to be the BEST.  To be heralded by your peers as a legend…  It can redefine and reshape a competitor’s career.  It can turn a struggling mid card into a HALL OF FAME athlete at the SNAP (snaps) of a finger.  We throw out all the pro-wrestling shenanigans and we simply…  fight.

We fight for pride…  for honor…

And for the opportunity at a chance to be SHOOT Project WORLD CHAMPION.

The fans POP with a steady, respectful applause.

The DEFILER: There are celebrated champions who have and WILL never win this tournament.  (Laughing to himself) I’ve won TWO Redemption Rumbles…  which is fucking INSANE…  Heh…  But uhh…  Never gotten out of the second round of Master of the Mat.

He shrugs while some fans laugh along with him.

The DEFILER: There isn’t a man or woman in the back that doesn’t want this thing, man…  Myself included…  (Sighing, taking a quick pause) But that isn’t a reality for me.  That’s why I’m out here.  Because this IS a reality for my opponent.  This is VERY REAL for one half of the NEEEEEEEEEW SHOOT Project Tag Team Champions…

The fans CHEER for the implecated Soldier.

The DEFILER: This tournament often favors the grinder…  the underdog…  the UNEXPECTED.  Guys like Eric Rohkar…  Loco Martinez.  It requires a certain skill-set that the traditional "main event draw" (making air quotes) simply doesn’t have.  It takes giving it your all not just once or twice…  not three times…  But FOUR or FIVE times in a row.  Some people are even fighting just to be IN the damn thing…

And that can wear on a person that’s used to having everything handed to them.  You look the wrong way… you forget to hook the leg…  Yap at a dude in the front row that’s been giving you shit all match…  It only takes one mistake and GAME OVER!

But these guys…  these grinders.  These hardworking, ass-kicking, under the radar WARRIORS…

They seem to have a knack for coming through.

Jonny pauses again, while a very faint "Crippler!" chant picks up some steam.  He nods along with the chant.

The DEFILER: I’m physically unable to give my opponent tonight the match he deserves, but I refused to come out here in a suit and pout.  I REFUSED to come out here and lose, as I’m about to do, as anything other than a PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER.  I’m…

He wants to keep talking, but the crowd starts cheering some more, which forces him to stop abruptly and acknowledge them.

The DEFILER: (Nodding, but waving a hand down, trying to keep them quiet) I’m humbled before the great SHOOT Project fans and so I’d like for Dennis Heflin to join me and for Samantha Coil to introduce my opponent…  Let’s make this official!

Jonny hands the microphone back to Samantha, who seems a little bewiledered, but obliges.  Heflin, having been ready at ringside slides in to join the fray as well.  Jonny shakes his the official’s hand and begins clapping his hands.

Coil looks at Heflin, who shrugs back at her and she nods.

Samantha Coil: Ladies and gentlemen…  the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL.  Introducing first, already in the ring…  From CHICAGO, ILLINOIS weighing in at Two Hundred, Twenty-Two pounds…

Jonny laughs at hearing his own weight, feeling as though he may be a few pounds heavier, but can be seen saying "Thank You" To Coil.  Samantha cracks a smile and laughs a little bit as she finishes her introduction.

Samantha Coil: HE IS JONNY.  JOHNSON!!!

Jonny throws his hands up in the air and the fans cheer yet again.

Samantha Coil: AND HIS OPPONENT…."

She trails off just as "Sound of Madness" by Shinedown begins.  The fans, expectedly pop for the familiar entrance music.

"Yeah, I get it

You’re an outcast

Always under attack

Always coming in last

Bringing up the past

No one owes you anything

I think

You need a shotgun blast

A kick in the ass

So paranoid

WATCH YOUR BACK"

The curtains rustle very briefly…

Samantha Coil: He is currently residing in Las Vegas Nevada and weighs in at two hundred, thirty-eight pounds…   THE SUBMISSION SPECIALIST…

LUUUUUUUUUNATIKK CRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPLER!!!!

Crippler, with his SHOOT Proejct Tag Title proudly draped over his shoulder, walks out through the curtains somewhat hesistantly.  He’s in his ring attire…  black trunks and a vest that he actually takes off and tosses to the side as he heads down the ramp toward the ring.  Jonny bobs his head along with the music and continues to applaud his "oppponent".  Crip takes very little time joining the party.  He hops up onto the apron and stares at Jonny a second…  He heistates, once again, for just a second, weery of this situation, instinctively looking to his left and right.

Jonny notices, though seems to understand the concern.  He gives a single nod and puts his hands up in a vulnerable "it’s all good" gesture.

Crippler nods as well and joins Jonny along with Heflin and Coil in the center of the ring.  He adjusts the title back over his shoulder and then calmly asks for the microphone from Samantha.  She obliges and Jonny points for him to say whatever’s on his mind.

LC taps the top of the mic and then looks at Jonny.  He’s looking for the right words, and doesn’t want to misspeak.

Lunatikk Crippler:  Look…  This is weird.  I’m still waiting to turn around and have you pull some school-boy crap.  So.  Yeah…  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take all of this…

The camera catches Jonny saying "Fair".  Crip nods and proceeds.

Lunatik Crippler: I wanted to fight you, man.  I wasn’t lying about what I said this week.  (Shaking his head) And this wrist thing, man?  I just don’t know.  Everything is screaming bullshit…

It’s clear that Lunatikk Crippler is struggling to fully buy into this situation.  He struggles again to find the right words, but Jonny, instead, puts out a hand and asks for the microphone.  There’s a pause, but  Crippler obliges and gives it to him.

The DEFILER: Will…  (Chosing his words) I can’t change the things I’ve done in my career.  Dude, I can’t even change how I’ve reacted or what I’ve said in the last two months.  Your opinions on my wrist…  I can’t change those either…  (Pausing again, wanting to get to the point as quickly as possible) YOU deserve to be in the Master of the Mat tournament.

That’s it.

That’s why we’re out here.

I want the world to know that YOU, William West…  that Lunatikk Crippler WON tonight.  I don’t want the conversation to be about my injuries or "what if scenarios".  I don’t want asterisk chat or internet nerds throwing a hissy fit that this tournament was somehow less legit than it could have been.  It should be our great fans celebrating YOU, a phenemonal performer.

And my pick to win the whole thing.

The Epicenter breaks into respectful applause and Crippler’s tensions seem to ease up just a touch.

The DEFILER: You have respect for this business.  You take your losses with a grain of salt and fight impossibly hard for every milestone that you achieve.  You became a tag team champion with an unfamiliar partner.  And, no offense to the previous champions, but outcomes don’t lie.  You wanted THAT more than they did.  AND.  YOU.  TOOK IT.

You’ve taken some rough defeats in the last two years I’ve gotten to know you, yet…

Here you are.

He makes sure his words have the chance to sink in.

The DEFILER: I’ll have my chance to be World Champion before it’s all said and done, but not today.  Not through this tournament…

Jonny swallows and looks at Dennis Heflin, now.

The DEFILER: Mister Heflin, I cannot compete on account of injury.

I’m sorry.

I forfeit the match.

Jonny lowers his head in a bow to his opponent, hands Samantha Coil her mic back and takes a step back.

Heflin nods and ceremoniously calls for the bell.

"DING DING DING!"

Crippler still seems to be in a bit of disbelief, while Jonny begins applauding…  He claps loudly and now toward the audience as well, making sure they all clap as well.

They do.   The Epicenter begins to applaud.

Samantha Coil: The winner of this contest on account of Forfeit and successfully entering this year’s MASTER OF THE MAT TOURNAMENT…  LUUUUUUUUNTAIKK CRIIIIIIIPPLER!!!!

As Coil nears the end of her annoucement, Jonny begins waving his hands at the arena to "GET UP!".  Crippler finally breaks a smile, and Jonny reaches across for a handshake.  Crip nods and the two men share a very brief shake.  Jonny then continues to applaud, while "Sound of Madness" by Shinedown starts to play again.  He points at Crippler and starts shouting "MASTER OF THE MAT!"  "MASTER OF THE MAT!"

"MASTER OF THE MAT!"  "MASTER OF THE MAT!" "MASTER OF THE MAT!" the fans chant along.

Jonny mimicks a "tip of his cap" and leaves for victor to celebrate his victory.  Crippler gives a little applause to Jonny and stays in the ring to play with the crowd a bit.

The cameras cut away to your VOICES of Revolution: Eryk Masters and Other Guy at their booth.  Both men are in SHOOT Project Polos, and assumingly pants as well, though those are not visible from this vantage point.

Eryk Masters: Well, ladies and gentleman, welcome to Revolution One Twenty Five.  Eryk Masters alongside my broadcast collegue The Other Guy.  And OG, a pretty classy show of respect from Jonny Johnson to kick things off.

Other Guy: It really was, Eryk.  And that’s coming from me…  maybe one of the most historically admant Jonny Johnson detractors.  Super cool from a man not necessarily famous for that behavior.

Eryk Masters: Well, regardless of how any of us feel…  Jonny was unable to compete and I don’t think there was a better way to handle the situation.  We can debate the severity of his injruy and, uh, ya know, try and play armchair doctors, but at the end of the day, only Jonny and his specialists can really comment on the situation.

Other Guy: Agreed, man.  It gives Crippler a chance to reach out to these great fans and just a…  Kind of a cool way to kick things off.

Masters nods in agreement.

Eryk Masters: Well folks, we have an absolutely CRAZY show for you tonight, main evented of course by a ROUND ONE, Master of the Mat bout between Adrian Coraz…

The fans seen behind Eryk on camera actually start to stand up and the arena suddenly gets EXCEPTIONALLY LOUD.

Other Guy: WHAT THE?!?!  HEY!!  LOOK OUT!!

"BOOOOOOOOO!  NOOO!  NOOOOOO BOOOOOOO!"

The production crew frantically changes camera views midshot and as they do, JASON RILEY, TOM QUINN and WAILER are charging into the ring from over the baracade and ATTACK LUNATIKK CRIPPLER!!!  Crippler throws his Tag Team Championship down to the mat and tries to push them away, but there are too many people to fend off!  He gets swarmed down quickly!

Jason Riley: AWWW!  FUCK YOU BITCH!

Quinn throws a kick, though it doesn’t land as hard as he’d like, with Crippler going full defensive.  Wailer starts throwing as many punches as he can, while Riley picks up Crippler’s tag title.

Eryk Masters: Out of nowhere…  Someone ju…  OH YES!!!  VERMONT’S FINEST!!

All of a sudden the EL ASSO WIPO and SILAS MITCHELL FLY DOWN TO THE RING!!  THE FANS GO CRAZY!!!  Wailer notices the fans’ reaction and spins around.  He pulls Quinn off Crippler, which prompts Riley to turn around!  Riley shakes his head.

"FUCK THIS!"  He shouts.

Silas is quickly in the ring, sliding under the bottom rope, with EAW tumbling behind!  Riley drops the belt in a panic and the trio PACKS UP SHOPPE AND HIGH-TAILS IT OUT THE OTHER END OF THE RING!!!

Other Guy: God DAMNIT.

EAW runs up to the ropes the three men narrowly escaped through and WAVES PASSIONATELY for them to get back in the ring.  In the meantime Silas checks in on Crippler and the fans at ringside are going pretty nuts after the very random turn of events.

Eryk Masters: Wow.  Folks…  we… Well  I am not sure how that all transpired, but what an absolutely bizzare way to start the show.

Masters and OG provide commentary over the action in the ring.  Crippler is up pretty quickly, having been saved from any serious damage.  Mitchel pats him on the shoulder, while El Asso Wipo somewhat "gingerly" hands him back his Tag Team Championship.  He puts the belt over Crip’s shoulder and slaps the gold plated front.

Other Guy: This seems really weird, Eryk…  I don’t like it.

Eryk Masters: Welcome to Revolution, boys and girls.

The camera stay on Crippler, Mitchell and Crippler in the ring for another few moments before taking us elsewhere with a hard cut.

Isaac Entragian stares blankly at a stained brick wall somewhere in the lower depths of the Epicenter. His eyes embody the “thousand yard stare”…bloodshot, vacant, portals to inner torment.

Hideous purple bruises line his throat, and occasionally he reaches up to scratch at these with pallid fingers. When he’s not scratching at his neck, he’s raising a silver flask up to his lips and pouring burning liquor down his aching throat.

Isaac’s face is a slab of absolute nothingness…and when he hears approaching footsteps, his eyes barely float to the side to see who has joined him.

He grunts, his upper lip twitching up into something that resembles a very poor attempt at a half-hearted grin.

It’s painfully clear that he’s shit-faced drunk.

Entragian: Hello, Loco.

Isaac’s words are slurred and whispered, barely audible.

Entragian: Come to kick the bad ol’ dog when he’s down, have ya? *Isaac belches, acidic foulness coming up into his throat* how bout it? I’ll give ya free shot…nice heroic kick for the bad ol’ dog…

Isaac points directly at his own temple.

Entragian: Go on…gimme that…zombie kill of the week thing, yeah? Put my lights out, Loc.

Isaac’s eyes shimmer and sparkle with intoxication, weakness, exhaustion, misery…self-imposed damnation.

Entragian: Please.

Loco looks at the shell of a man he once feared, and yet shared some sort of odd kinship with over the years.  Maybe because Entragian knew the kind of monster Loco could become and maybe because Loco knew the kind of man Isaac could be.  He sighs heavily.

Loco Martinez:  Not here to put you out of your misery, Ike.  Not even sure WHY I’m here.  Not here to offer a lifeline.  Or a pep talk.  Maybe I just needed to see it for myself?  

Loco pauses.  Isaac’s head bobs drunkenly.  He closes one eye to attempt to keep the number one contender in focus.  Loco shrugs.

Loco Martinez:  I dunno.  I thought… maybe if you fell?  It’d be at someone else’s hands.  Not your own doing.  

Isaac chuckles, head hanging downward. He begins coughing, the booze giving his pallid skin an unnatural red sheen. Finally he dislodges a hunk of phlegm from his throat and spits it down onto the floor.

He raises his wobbly head to look at Loco while wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth.

Entragian: We all fall sooner or later, Loc. Heh. Sometimes…we fall far.

Isaac takes another gulp from the flask.

Entragian: I survived a lot of self-proclaimed heroes over the years, lots of boys and girls who thought they’d behead the beast and end the reign of terror…some nights I can still see their blood grimed under my fingernails, Freakshow. So many noble quests…so many honorable enemies…survived em’ all, though.

Isaac’s eyes drift upwards to the ceiling, his intoxicated mind wandering.

Entragian: Kinda ironic that I couldn’t survive myself, ain’t it?

Isaac shakes his head, not really meeting Loco’s eyes, just sort of gazing down at his wrestling boots as he speaks.

Entragian: Well you’ve had your look, Loc. (Isaac swallows down another foul little belch, his chest heaving with effort just to breathe properly) Guess I’m kinda…uhh…living proof to all that sunshine n’ rainbows shit you’re always preachin. You choose the darkness…sooner or later…that darkness is gonna eat ya up.

Isaac scrubs a hand against his hair, and bits of pieces of filth fall out of it to the floor, proving that he hasn’t bathed or showered in weeks.

Loco squats down.  Getting closer.   He pauses weighing his next move in his mind.   He extends a hand and puts it on Isaac’s filthy shoulder.

Loco Martinez:  I’m living proof, too, Ike…   That it doesn’t have to. 

Loco gives a squeeze. He gets up and starts to walk off.

Isaac watches him go…

As it’s been noted many times, there are cameras set up EVERYWHERE in the Epicenter.  So it’s no shock that the SHOOT Project production folks have managed to track down JASON RILEY, TOM QUINN and the Wraith known as WAILER.  Quinn is leading the way, while Riley whines.

Jason Riley: Dude… they’re gonna fucking find us, man.  Why the FUCK were those masked fa***** even there?  We are NOT fucking feuding with them, man.  They need to stay the SHIT out of our business, man!  Why the FUCK CAN’T PEOPLE ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE JUST EXAMPLES AND NOT fucking… DUDE!  Are you even FUCKING LISTENING TO ME???

Quinn is clearly not while Wailer’s patience has been tried.

Wailer: I’m about done with this shit, today…

Quinn speaks up before anything can happen.

Tom Quinn: We’re in and out, okay?

Riley rolls his eyes.

Jason Riley: In and out of WH…

Before Riley can finish his sentence and before Quinn can answer, a door down the hall opens up.

"You guys are going to get killed"

Making his first appearance on SHOOT Project Television in almost six years, former World Champion, TREVOR WORRENS greets the trio somewhat secretly.

Tom Quinn: Welcome home, my man.

The two men exchange a quick embrace, but it’s pretty clear Worrens has reservations about being seen with these guys…  which, Riley notices.

Jason Riley: (Coldly, but still fist bumping Worrens) Sup homie…

Worrens nods at Riley and then gives only a quick glance in Wailer’s direction, before looking back to Quinn.

Trevor Worrens: Look, they got you on the show right now, and with all the rumors about the three of you getting handed pink slips after what happened last week, you guys pr….

Riley laughs.

Jason Riley: Pffft! HA!  I don’t give a FUUUUUCK about last week, man.  We’re UNTOUCHABLE BRO.  GET IT?  (Poking Worrens playfully in the chest) UN.  TOUCH. ABLE.  I just don’t want those smelly fucking garbage Mexicans to find us…

He spins around, throwing up middle fingers in every direction.

Jason Riley: MIIIIIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS FA***** PIECES OF SHIT!

Quinn takes the reins of the conversation, speaking in a lower whisper in the hopes that maybe the audio won’t pick it up.

It does, but you have to try and listen a little more.

Tom Quinn: Did you get my text, man?  You ready to bring down this machine once and for all?

Worrens looks around the hallway and shakes his head.

Trevor Worrens:Ask me that question six years ago… (reluctant) but no. (With more conviction) That’s not what I’m back for.  This place didn’t do anything.  My failures are my own and all I c…

Riley interrupts passionately.

Jason Riley: Don’t EVEN START WITH THE GAY SHIT!  They USED you, man.  US MAN.  Made us their fucking bitches to fuck our little pussies whenever they WANT.  These guys couldn’t sign SHIT in two-thousand seven…  You won the world title and what happened?  YOU GOT FUCKED.  They RAPED YOU, dude.  They USED YOU.  FUCK.  THAT.  Don’t make us put you on the "other list", man….

Quinn tries to reason a little more diplomatically.

Tom Quinn: Trevor, listen.  We’ve been running the same circuits for years.  We’re close, man.  There’s some shit on the horizon that you will WANT in on.  I’m not bullshitting you.  There’s a new life for guys like us…

Worrens isn’t having it.

Trevor Worrens: I’m here for the tournament, and that’s it. (Still looking around, keeping things as quick as he can) After that, who knows, but I don’t think we’re on the same page.  And I’m okay with that.

Wailer sniffs and glowers at Worrens.

Wailer: We’re not, Trevor.

Worrens looks hard at Wailer, and then at the others, realizing he may have just made enemies.

Trevor Worrens: Then it is what it is.

Quinn nods.

It gets silent.

Tom Quinn: Yeah.  I guess so, man.  Sorry.

He puts his hand out, but Worrens doesn’t shake it.  Riley takes offense and gets in his face.

Jason Riley: (He barks) Little BITCH!

Quinn pushes Riley back.

Tom Quinn: Not everyone can be alive at the end, man.  Let it go.

He turns back to Worrens.

Tom Quinn: Good luck tonight, Trev.  And uh…  it was cool to catch up.

Quinn pats Worrens on the shoulder and walks off camera… Riley sticks a middle finger directly in Worrens’s face as he walks away, followed by Wailer who doesn’t so much as look at the former World Champ.

They simply leave Worrens alone.

Eryk Masters:   The fans here in the Epicentre have really taken to these two men. I can’t say I blame them; O’Reilly wrestled his heart out at the last show and Omar made the save for Maya Nakashima and Zex.

Other Guy:   Add into the fact that this is a Master of the Mat match-up and the excitement doubles.

Eryk Masters:   It looks like out lovely ring announcer Samantha Coil is ready to get this one underway.

Other Guy:   And so is Dan Stein who is eagerly looking on from the Sky Box.

Samantha Coil: This MASTER OF THE MAT contest is scheduled for one fall…Weighing in first at Two-Hundred and Fifty-Two Pounds…Hailing from…Dorchester, Massachusetts and being accompanied to the ring by Freak Nasty…OMAAAR OWEEENS!   

Oh" by Ciara kicks up and both Omar and Freak make their way out from the back onto the stage. Omar bends down, slaps the stage with both hands and then raises his arms over his head, making an "O" symbol with his hands.

Other Guy:   I don’t know much about Freak Nasty, but I know one thing…

Eryk Masters:   What’s that?

Other Guy:   That I already like him, look at those clothes! How could you not like him?

He and Freak walk down the aisle, slapping hands with fans. Omar climbs into the ring and awaits the start of the match.

   Samantha Coil: And his opponent…Weighing in at Two-Hundered and Twenty-Two Pounds…From Cloone, Ireland by way of Boston, Massachusetts… “THE BUUULDOOOG” SHAAAWN O’REEEIIILLY!   

Stranglehold" by Ted Nugent kicks in as O’Reilly walks out onto the entrance ramp with his arms raised in the air…The fans let out a cheer as he races down to the ring, slapping a few hands at ringside before rolling into the squared circle.

Eryk Masters:   O’Reilly looks ready for this one tonight.

Shawn marches to each corner of the ring, climbing the ropes and pointing out to the fans getting them involved and hyped up for the match ahead before making his way to the centre of the ring…Where both Owens and O’Reilly offer eachother a respectful nod as Referee Willie Dean calls for the bell, getting this one underway…The two relative newcomers to SHOOT Project begin to circle eachother, the fans in the epicentre cheering loudly behind them as they step forward locking up.

Eryk Masters:   Old school lock up.

Omar, having the height and weight advantage begins to back “The Bulldog” towards the ropes; but O’Reilly decides to change the direction by dropping down with a Lucha style armdrag, whipping Owens into the ropes.

Shawn is quick to catch Omar on the rebound with a hip toss, but Owens blocks, hitting a forearm to “The Bulldog’s” midsection and then lifts O’Reilly for an Atomic Drop; “The Bulldog” flips out behind “O2” wrapping his arms around his waist, before changing into a headlock, Owens pushes out of the hold and clings onto O’Reilly’s arm pulling him back towards him and straight into a back drop.

Other Guy:   A nice technical exchange there.

Eryk Masters:   Owens hits a nice backdrop out of it too, great way to get things going.

O’Reilly scrambles back to his feet and hit’s Owens with a dropkick sending him into the ropes…Omar rebounds and Shawn leaps, wrapping his legs around Omar’s head and dropping him with a side Head Scissor takedown. Owens rolls out of the of the Head-Scissor and hits the ropes, flying back with a clothesline…Shawn goes down and pops right back up again ,Omar races to the next set of ropes and then slams into O’Reilly with Shoulder-Block, Shawn hops up again and hits the ropes racing towards Omar but soon finds himself slammed to the mat with a Scoop-Slam into a Reverse-Chin-Lock.

Eryk Masters:   Omar applying a little pressure here, softening up for the Last Gasp perhaps?

Owens uses the Chin-Lock to keep O’Reilly grounded for a moment before switching gears, steeping to the side and bringing Shawn to his feet and going for a Short-Arm-Clothesline, O’Reilly ducks reaches up and pulls “O2” down with a quick Neckbreaker.

Other Guy:   Omar was softening up for the The Last Gasp, seems like Shawn is softening up for the South End Strangle Hold.

O’Reilly holds on turning and pulling Omar back to his feet where he hits a snap Suplex, once down O’Reilly mirrors his previous motion by holding on and standing for a second time, Omar blocks the Suplex and then lifts Shawn up with a Suplex of his own, but Shawn kick his legs, diving down behind Omar.

Shawn hits a Dropkick to Omar’s back sending him into the ropes and then takes a run up, hitting the opposing ropes and racing back, “O2” however sees the attack coming and side steps, pushing O’Reilly up and over the top rope, Shawn lands on the apron and Omar turns charging at him, Shawn drops down and Omar changes motion hitting a baseball slide, kicking Shawn back into the barricade.

Eryk Masters:   Ouch, what a collision.

Other Guy:   Those fans look happy to be on that side of the barricade that’s for sure.

Owens then rolls to the outside Shawn sees his opportunity with a quick kick to the midsection followed by and Irish Whip, Omar crashes up and over the barricade and into the ground. Shawn races into the ring and scales the top rope; he stands poised telling the fans to step out of the way before leaping from the top rope…Bulbs flash as Shawn hurtles from the top, but as he comes crashing towards his adversary Omar springs into the air catching “The Bulldog” with a dropkick to the gut, a move which sends both men into the seating area.

“Holy Shit!” chants cascade throughout the Epicentre as both men lay flat out on the ground.

Other Guy:   Shawn O’Reilly wrestles like he is in somebody else’s body. The guys insane.

Eryk Masters:   That took something out of both men, but you have to know ti hurt O’Reilly a hell of a lot more.

After some time on the ground Omar stands lifting Shawn by his hair and dumping him back over the barricade. Owens then attempts to roll Shawn into the ring; instead Shawn stops the motion by planting a foot on the apron; sensing that there is still some fight in O’Reilly after the huge fall to the outside, Omar shifts back dropping Shawn with a back Suplex on the outside.

Other Guy:   Again, another move to the neck area, Omar is definitely readying Shawn up for the Last Gasp.

Omar lifts Shawn again rolling him inside the ring. Where he lays dormant…Owens then scales the ropes himself and points down towards “The Bulldog” before leaping off with a splash which connects…

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Owens doesn’t wait about, he stands dropping a quick leg drop across Shawn’s neck, followed by a second pin attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Other Guy:   Shawn is as resilient as the come.

Again, Owens stands this time bring O’Reilly up with him, he locks him in a DDT and is ready to drop when Shawn spins out of the hold in a last ditched attempt, steping behind Omar and locking in a choke hold.

Eryk Masters:   SOUTH END STRANGLE HOLD!

O’Reilly leaps onto Omar’s back, wrapping his legs around his waist and begins wrenching the strangle hold…Omar stumbles forward, reaching towards the ropes as O’Reilly keeps the pressure of the move on…Owens stops dead centre of the ring and then reaches back, yanking O’Reilly’s head forward and then drops down with a Backpack Stunner! Both men are down, feeling the effects of the match as the Referee checks to make sure they are both okay.

Other Guy:   Nice reversal by O2. He could have been in trouble there.

Omar is the first to his feet, he checks on his throat and leans back on the ropes catching his breath…Owens looks up just as Shawn pulls himself up in the corner, sensing the opportunity Omar races towards O’Reilly with an Avalanche Splash! Shawn’s sternum crushes into the turnbuckle post, the air instantly leaving his lungs from the impact of both the Splash to his back and the post to the chest…Owens reaches up, locking his arms around Shawn’s throat, falling back towards the map and using his legs to hold O’Reilly in place.

Eyrk Masters: LAST GASP!

Referee Dean steps in as Shawn starts to fade but clearly unable to breathe from the combination of the splash and the Last Gasp…Dean lifts the arm…

ONE…It falls…

TWO…It falls…

THREE…It falls and Dean turns calling for the bell.

    Samantha Coil: Here is your winner…OMAAAR OWEEENS.    

Eryk Masters:   What a match, you have to think if O’Reilly didn’t crash and brun from that dive that things could have been different?

Other Guy:   Yeah, that was a bullsy move. You’ve gotta know when to take your shots and O’Reilly went all out with that one.

Back inside the ring Omar is up on his feet, the fans cheering and applauding the effort of both me…Shawn rolls to the side, pulling himself up by the ropes as Owens approaches.

Other Guy:   What’s going on here?

Both men look eachother in the eye, when Omar extends a hand…The fans erupt with cheers for the second time as the two men shake, showing eachother respect after the battle is over…

It’s hours before Revolution is schedule to start, but Kale Tanev sits against the wrestlers and staff entrance around the side of the building. Attired simply in jeans and a KT t-shirt, the Rule of Surrender championship belt sits across his lap, and his black duffel bag lies next to him.  Tanev is oblivious to everything around him, both the punishing sun and the quiet footsteps approaching him, as his head is down, studying his phone in confusion. A man and his young son approach the SHOOT Project champion.

Man: Hey!

Tanev’s head remains down as he tries to type into his phone.

Man: Hello?

No response from Tanev.

Man: Hi there, Mr Tanev, excuse me.

Tanev’s head snaps up and his body shakes with a jolt of surprise at the two people just feet from him. 

Tanev: Hi…

Man: My son, Walker, here would like to meet you.

Tanev: I’m sorry. I’m not used to…anyone speaking to me.  How can I help you?

Man: Well, since the Project returned, you’ve been his favourite wrestler.  We always come out early to try and meet the guys.

His son interjects, blurting into the conversation as young boys are wont to do.

Walker: Why do you wear such funny shorts when you wrestle?  Why don’t you have the same stuff as other wrestlers?

Tanev: Well, I never really thought about it to be honest.  I just wore what I had. And I don’t have very many clothes.

Walker: You’re the best!  I want to be just like you! Can I have your autograph?

The child thrusts out a scrap of paper and a small sharpie. Tanev takes it and scribbles on the meagre piece of paper.  Walker takes it back from him, studies it for a moment and then runs off.

Man: Thanks man. Really appreciate that. He’ll  treasure that for years.

Tanev: No problem. Anytime. But, sir, you should know I’m no role model.  You don’t want your boy growing up like me.  I’ve disappointed enough people in my life. 

Man: He’s, we’re both, inspired by your story.  You see people get down to that depth and do nothing to pull themselves out of it.  But you’ve done something special. You’re just starting, and …

Tanev: I appreciate your kind words.  But I’m not a good person. I’ve done terrible things.  I regret all of them, but it doesn’t make them go away.  There are things about me you wouldn’t like.

Tanev nods curtly to the man, turns around and opens the door. 

We cut to the back from the live action, as Billy Winter stands next to the catering table oogling over the selection. Just then, one of the arena’s staff members – a young, sandy blonde girl with spots of acne who is struggling to make her way through college, walks to the table to replenish it. The smile that crosses Winter’s lips curls devilishly. Stepping just a few inches too close to the woman, Billy nearly engulfs her with his hair.

Billy Winter: Hhhey.

The man breathes heavily in her face with the smell of Crest falling out from his lips.

Billy Winter: Going to replace the carrots, yeah?

The girl nods quickly, obviously caught off guard by the man. Leaning back, Billy looks her up and down. The silver pan that the girl carries clamors against the set-up, causing even more frustration for her as she tries to hurry out of them. Winter’s heart rate rises as he sees the girl struggling to contain herself, and as she finally places the vegetable tray in it’s position, he leans over to her and takes a healthy whiff of her hair.

Billy Winter: Is that Suave? Cheap stuff. I like cheap stuff.

The girl tries to scurry away, but Billy’s hand slaps her right ass cheek, his hand lingering for just a moment. As the girl yelps and looks over her shoulder, Billy gives her a wink and blows her a kiss. In a flash, the girl is gone. Winter looks down at the tray, grabbing one of the heads of cauliflower. Examining it for a moment, Billy rolls his eyes in disgust and throws the vegetable over his shoulder.

Dan Stein: Hark! Toni! Tina! Find the peasant who tossed

that disgusting vegetable in my direction!

The Sin City Champion, Dan Stein, rolls up to the camera from down the hall. 

Dan Stein: Quickly! I have to use the chamber pot!

Billy Winter spins on his heels and remarks upon the gold and crimson Chariot decorations placed on the Segway that was being pulled down the hall by Toni and Tina, Dan’s body guards from Flex Magazine. Dan’s head is turned up, as though he were looking down his nose at the staff members, and he’s still wearing his Roman toga ensemble. Winter grins at the Sin City Champion, running a hand through his shoulder length hair. Stein catches a glimpse of the man in front of him, and his head snaps down. Snapping at Molly, his Assistant, who walks down the hallway behind him, Dan asks her a question.

Dan Stein: Is this the one? The one that commented about me?

Molly sighs, and nods, placing her hands on her hips.

Molly the Assistant: The one and only, Mr. Bi-

Dan Stein: Billy Winter! I know this guy!

Molly rolls her eyes. Dan hops down from the Segway, quickly making his way to Winter.

Dan Stein: I trust you received the fruit basket I had sent?

Winter flashes that brilliant grin once again, taking a moment to appreciate the entire Golden Boy experience…including the chariot and the massive Flex magazine body guards.

Billy Winter: I certainly did…and it was a breath of fresh air compared to the hot garbage Jason Johnson has placed on these…”catering tables.”

Winter looks down at some of the food in catering with a scowl forming across his handsome features.

Billy Winter: The imported mangos were an especially delicious touch. You’ve got good tastes, Dan. I respect that….

Suddenly there’s a commotion from behind them, and two of Billy’s valets arrive on the scene with an asian man dressed in a pristine white chef’s uniform.

The redhead known only as Strawberry Pussy and the blonde dubbed Perky Tits usher the little man forward, and Billy takes a moment to literally just pull up the sides of the tablecloth and throw some of the “catering” crap there into the trashcan. Perky Tits places a small grill on the table, and Strawberry Pussy places several dishes containing various culinary items in front of the chef.

Billy Winter: Bout fuckin’ time…did you have to go all the way to Tokyo to get him? I was considering eating one of these moldy carrots if it took much longer…(Billy offers Stein a wink) now that’s TRUE desperation.

Billy motions to the chef and the set-up before him.

Billy Winter: One of my personal chefs, Dan. His sushi is TO DIE for. I just sort of…rent him and take him wherever I go…kind of like an indentured servant, ya know? Helps me maintain my figure (Billy pats a hand against the washboard abs) and judging by the physical perfection I see standing in front of me, you know a thing or two about maintaining a figure, champ.

Billy spins around and begins sampling few hors d’oeuvrs from one of the silver platters his chef whipped up. He brings the expensive snack up to his lips and chomps down on it, relishing the flavor.

Billy Winter: How about some Beluga caviar, Dan? Straight from the Caspian Sea…and really hits the spot in a way that the diarrhea-inducing slop on this table never will. No wonder those old fuckheads in ANARCHY are so fat…the calorie content around here makes me wanna kill myself…

Stein’s eye light up at the sight of the food in front of him, listening intently to the only man who truly respects his abilities. Watching Billy put the Beluga in his mouth, Dan turns to Molly and pleads to her.

Dan Stein: You hear that? He has a chef. Billy Winter has a chef. Why doesn’t Dan Stein have a chef?

Molly the Assistant: Probably for the same reason I haven’t had a pa-

Dan Stein: Hushhhhhhhhhhhh!

Stein places a single finger on Molly’s lips, causing her to stop speaking. Dan waits until Molly is thoroughly quiet before turning back to Billy Winter. Stein’s stomach gurgles, immediately causing him discomfort. Trying to hide the discomfort, Stein grimaces and holds his side.

Dan Stein: Beer shits. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m wearing white, can’t risk it. You understand, I’m sure.

Stein hurries back to the chariot, looking down at Winter from the platform.

Dan Stein: I’ll have Molly, my Assistant, get with your ladies, we’ll work out a play date in the future. (Stein’s stomach gurgles again) Maybe we’ll even show these plebeians what a real tag team looks like. Big night tonight! Make sure you’re watching.

Stein nearly crumbles into the chariot as his stomach crunches and twists. 

Dan Stein:  Oh, God. Just go. GO!

Toni and Tina quickly pull the chariot away from the catering table. Stein continues to look back, longingly, at the only man that’s made him feel like his talents are respected. Molly, Stein’s assistant, reaches into her purse. Slowly pulling out a bottle, Molly makes sure Winter is looking at her.

Molly the Assistant: Ex-Lax. He should really look into hiring a chef.

Smiling brightly, the woman puts the bottle back in her purse.

Billy calls after Stein while giving him a little “salute” goodbye.

Billy Winter: Make that porcelain throne tap, champ! I believe in you!

Winter turns back to Molly, making a little “tsk tsk” sound while wagging his finger at her.

Billy Winter: Naughty girl.

Winter chews his Beluga caviar while shamelessly assessing Molly’s feminine form.

Billy Winter: Tell Danny Boy I WILL be watching…and also tell him to keep a close eye on the monitors later on this evening…I’ve got a LIL’ something planned that he might enjoy. Bit of a surprise!

Billy gives Molly a little wave before sauntering off with his girls and his chef, continuing to sample morsels of food from the silver platters the girls hold in their hands.

“All My Life” by the Foo Fighters starts to play in the Epicenter, and several of the fans give the Rules of Surrender Champion a positive reaction as he steps out from the curtains.

Kale Tanev wears a black “KT” SHOOT Project t-shirt along with old black basketball shorts, and strapped around his waist is gleaming face of the Rules of Surrender Championship. Tanev looks around at the crowd, taking it all in for a moment…and then he starts to make his way down to the ring.

Eryk Masters: Tanev seems to finally be getting the hang of the whole SHOOT Project entrance…he’s starting to iron some things out in terms of music.

Other Guy: Still no pyro, though…

Eryk Masters: Baby steps, OG! Theme and pyro talk aside…Tanev has been making BIG waves ever since his debut. This is man is still fairly new to the art of professional wrestling…but he’s already proven his mettle by claiming the Rules of Surrender Championship.

Other Guy: He comes from a hard luck past and from what I understand he’s had his struggle with personal demons…but the day Tanev stepped into SHOOT Project was a first step towards redemption…and I think lots of people are eager to see how his path unfolds from here.

Kale unstraps the championship belt from his waist and hands it off to a ringside official before climbing into the ring to await his opponent.

“Safe to Say (The Incredible)” by Fat Joe starts to play and Eli Storm saunters out from the curtains, throwing up his arms and glaring arrogantly at the fans. Storm wastes no time, making a beeline for the ring and sliding underneath the bottom rope.

Eryk Masters: Storm’s a SHOOT veteran…so it’ll be interesting to see what kind of strategy he has in mind for the relative newcomer Tanev.

Other Guy: Storm’s been in a foul mood lately too, he believes he’s being overlooked and pushed under the rug and not getting the kind of opportunities that he feels he deserves.

Eryk Masters: Well this a HUGE opportunity for both of these men.

Storm is pacing a bit in his corner, and Kale just stands to the side and loosens up his wrists.

Samantha Coil: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a MASTER OF THE MAT first round tournament match…and it is scheduled for one fall!

Samantha pauses before turning to Storm.

Samantha Coil: Introducing first, he hails from Alberta, Canada…weighing in at 225lbs…THE INCREDIBLE ONE…ELI STORM!!!

Storm sneers at Tanev while the crowd boos loudly.

Samantha Coil: And his opponent…he hails from Parts Unknown, weighing in at 225lbs….THE RULES OF SURRENDER CHAMPION…KALE TANEV!!!

A great majority of the fans in attendance cheer for Tanev, and the champ takes a moment to nod at the recognition.

Other Guy: Sounds like the fans aren’t too happy to see Storm…but they’re definitely warming up to Tanev!

Eryk Masters: Well week after week he just keeps on proving himself here…you can’t help but respect that.

The bell rings, and both men start to circle each other, looking for any sign of weakness.

Storm makes a grab for Kale’s leg, but Kale blasts an elbow into the side of Storm’s neck and pushes him away. Storm is frustrated, and he attempts to go low again…but this time Tanev PISTONS a knee into the side of Storm’s face, knocking him down to the canvas!

Storm pops right back up, obviously annoyed at how well Tanev is fairing…and he fakes right and ends up behind Kale, managing to hook the RoS Champion up in a hammerlock. Storm grinds onto Kale’s arm, and with his free arm he starts to just RAIN down on Kale’s shoulders with clubbing forearm blows.

Tanev staggers forward, and Storm takes that moment to irish whip him HARD into the ropes…but on the rebound Kale send a picture-perfect dropkick right into Storm’s stomach!

Storm goes down hard, and Kale attempts a quick cover.

ONE!

TWO-NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Eryk Masters: Tanev looking very sharp right now…I think the champ realizes how important a win in the Master of the Mat tournament could be for his blooming career.

Other Guy: Storm needs to get it together…seems like he’s letting his frustration get the better of him.

Eli slams a hand down against the canvas…and then he runs towards Tanev and just starts swinging WILDLY with rights and lefts, battering Kale up against a turnbuckle corner.

Eli takes a step back and attempts a jumping forearm smash, but Kale ducks out of the way and Eli accidentally SLAMS his own head into the turnbuckle post!

Storm staggers backwards, a little gash opened along his scalp…and Kale answers his approach with a BRUTAL spinning back fist! The impact of the strike knocks Storm down to the canvas and he is clearly hurting, his body rolling back and forth in pain.

The cameras suddenly focus on a luxury skybox near the top of the Epicenter. We see Dan Stein standing there and watching this match play out, his gargantuan Flex magazine body guards standing to either side of him.

Other Guy: Well how about that…seems the Sin City Champion is getting himself a bird’s eye view of this contest.

Eryk Masters: Storm has made a few disparaging remarks about Stein recently. Something tells me Stein isn’t really the forgive and forget type either…

Tanev goes to scrape Storm up, and the RoS champ hooks Storm’s head and attempts a suplex…but Tanev lands awkwardly on the canvas and Storm smashes down right on top of him, driving all the air out of Kale’s lungs.

Eryk Masters: Uhoh. Kale didn’t really get the technique right on that suplex attempt…Storm landed right on top of him.

Other Guy: That’s one thing Tanev is working on…the science of wrestling is still new to him and he’s got some work to do to slowly develop his style and get some of the moves down.

Storm takes advantage of the situation, trying for a pinfall attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Kale shoulders out hard and rolls to the side, attempting to gain his bearings.

Eli climbs to his feet and hits the ropes, jumping up HIGH into the air for an elbow drop…but Tanev rolls out of the way! Eli lands hard, and Kale quickly makes his way to the closest turnbuckle and ascends…and as soon as Eli gets up to his feet he is BLASTED right back down via a top rope missile dropkick from the Rules of Surrender Champion!

Eryk Masters: Beautiful aerial maneuver from Tanev…the big risk paid off!

Instead of going for a pinfall…Kale locks up Eli’s neck and just begins to GRIND back with all of his might, sending the veteran into panic mode! Eli’s eyes are bugging out of his head as his oxygen is slowly cut off…and Kale just yanks back even harder!

Other Guy: KALE’S GOT THE DESCENDER LOCKED IN!!!

Eryk Masters: Storm is in SERIOUS trouble right now…that modified guillotine chokehold will put your lights out quick if you’re not careful.

Eli is struggling, reaching madly for the ropes…but Kale has got him caught right in the center of the ring and he’s pretty much in no man’s land with no clear escape route in sight.

Storm tries to crawl a bit, he fights, he struggles…but finally the pain is just too much and he smacks a hand against the canvas a few times before he passes out.

Samantha Coil: YOUR WINNER AS A RESULT OF A SUBMISSION… ADVANCING IN THE MASTER OF THE MAT TOURNAMENT…THE RULES OF SURRENDER CHAMPION…KALE TANEV!!!

Other Guy: Talk about a MEMORABLE win for Kale Tanev! HE was able to get the wily veteran to submit…and he has ADVANCED in the Master of the Mat tournament!

Eryk Masters: Impressive. This guy continues to roll…and if this keeps up, the rest of the Master of the Mat competitors had better watch out.

Kale exits the ring and takes the Rules of Surrender Championship with him, celebrating by slapping a few fan’s hands while heading up the ramp. Suddenly though “The Touch” by Stan Bush starts to play overhead…and out from the crowd emerges DAN STEIN!

Stein has a microphone in hand as he climbs over the security railing…and he climbs directly on top of the announce table while staring into the ring at Eli Storm.

Stein: Well Stormy…I’m GLAD you’re out of Master of the Mat. Don’t need you messing with my chances at Revolution 126, after all! How about you crawl your less than incredible self out of that ring and fight me right now…and I’ll teach you how to keep my name out of your mouth.

Storm glares, still hurting…but he starts out of the ring towards Stein regardless…BUT SUDDENLY HE IS BLINDSIDED ON BOTH SIDES BY THE MASSIVE TINA AND TONI!!! The female bodybuilders crush clubbing blows into both sides of Storm’s back and lay him out right in front of the announce table…and then they LIFT him up onto the table and lay him down at Stein’s feet.

Eryk Masters: This suddenly took a really dark turn for Storm…seems the The Golden Boy has some bad intentions up his sleeve.

Other Guy: Storm is not even moving right now…

Stein plants a boot on top of Storm’s head, just taunting him for a moment…but finally the Sin City Champion drops down and TWISTS into Storm’s anatomy with an American Key Lock! Stein pulls back as HARD as he possibly can, a little vein pulsing in his handsome brow…and a sickening POP sound permeates the Epicenter, followed immediately by intense cries of pain from Eli Storm!

Eryk Masters: Oh god…Stein just popped that shoulder clean out of the socket…we’re getting a front row seat to this and Storm’s shoulder looks horribly unnatural right now.

Other Guy: Need some EMTs out here now. Storm is BADLY hurt…

Stein reluctantly lets go of the hold, taking a moment to smile down at his handiwork. Tina steps forward and Stein allows himself to be carried in her enormous arms like a self-satisfied prince.

Stein calls back once more while Tina carries him off with Toni following close behind.

Stein: Now THAT…is how your Sin City Champion reigns of his subjects!

Stein drops the mic, smiling brightly the whole time. The fans are booing so loud it’s like thunder in the arena.

Eryk Masters: Despicable. Stein has no remorse…no sense of sportsmanship.

Other Guy: He definitely made a statement here tonight. Storm is in agony right now.

EMTs finally flood onto the scene, tending to Storm as he rolls around on top of the announce table while gripping his shoulder tightly.

We cut on this scene.

The SHOOT Project Banner hangs in the background. Chaos, dressed in his finest tuxedo stands next to Abigail Chase. Chase is dressed neatly in a dark slate grey skirt suit. Chaos has his arms folded across his chest in a pose of protest?

Abigail Chase: I’m here in with SHOOT Project Soldier, Chaos. Thanks for granting me your time, Chaos.

Chaos: That’s ok Shabby Abby the pleasure is all yours.

Abigail Chase frowns.

Abigail Chase: Last week you were unsuccessful in your bid to wrest the Sin City Championship from Dan Stein’s iron grip. How do you feel about that?

Chaos: How do you I feel about it?

Abigail Chase: Yes, how do you feel about it?

Chaos: Well, I could tell you how I feel about it. But I don’t really want to tell you how I went home and cried myself to sleep because that would be embarrassing, ya know. Me, a grown man lying there in bed on his back staring at the ceiling with his eyes pouring out nothing but salty tears that roll down his delectable face. Yeh, I really don’t want to tell you about that.

Abigail Chase: Uhh, thanks.

Chaos: You’re welcome.

Abigail Chase: Ok, we’ve probably only got time for one more question.

Chaos: Better make it a good one.

Chase goes to speak, but before she can say anything Chaos cuts in.

Chaos: That’s what she said.

Chase stares at him his flabbergasted.

Abigail Chase: Hmm. You’re a new arrival to SHOOT Project, and so far you are yet to taste victory. Has it been hard to adept to the strength of competition in the Epicenter?

Chaos: Kind of comic how a kid from Aussie would marvel at his superheroes. Draining his laptop battery juice to zero, A teen with a dream, and since the whole start I’ve Been like Quentin plotting from the video archives, So I direct my film like Jack Sparrows’ compass, cut sick, shooting like a black barrel gunship. Just like when the rain and thunder hits the planet, dreamt once in the clouds now the mother-ship has landed. Goddammit spectacular, lock it up and load, with that flip of the tongue, hit of the drum, rock and fucking roll, I spark an idea ignited from my balls. Add it to the ninety-nine bottles of lightning on my wall, in a boat of hope on an ocean where the shark lives. Spitting fireflies to paint my poems in the darkness, connectivity is in my stare, shit, electricity is in the air. So throw your islands in the sky if you feel the vibe, Chaos is alive every time we fly. When I find a line like a rope I can use it, to lift me out the sea of disposable bullshit. But you can’t touch my soul cause that dog shit smells, I wanna be taken away like a cosmic spell, so no need to show me the money of bomb hit sales, Cause this game gives me the qualm just like Rod Tidwell and so…

Chaos stops and stares right into the eyes of Abigail Chaise.

Chaos:  Just… just let me enjoy this for a minute…

Chaos spins in a circle and runs off with his arms extended out the side of his body, like he is an aeroplane.

Abigail Chase: That was Chaos and this is SHOOT Project.

Samantha Coil: The following contest is set for one fall….and is for the IRON FIST CHAMPIONSHIP!

The crowd roars its approval.

Eryk Masters: Wait, what? This wasn’t scheduled!

Other Guy: And you’re complaining….why?

“Diamond Eyes” by Shinedown starts up, and the crowd pops for it’s Iron Fist Champion.

Samantha Coil: Introducing first, he is the reigning Iron Fist Champion…..KIIIIIIIIIIIINCAIIIIIIIIID!

Kincaid saunters to the ring, Iron Fist Championship strapped around his waist. His game face is on, and he’s ready to go.

Eryk Masters: A welcome surprise, but you have to wonder how much time the champion has had to prepare. We didn’t even know this match was taking place!

Other Guy: He’s game for it. You can look in his eyes, and you can tell he’s ready for anything.

Kincaid enters the ring and unstraps the Iron Fist title, holding it high in the air for another pop. He hands it off to the referee, and then starts loosening up.

Shinedown shuts off, as the fans begin to buzz for his opponent.

Then the buzz turns to jeers.  The Chainsmokers’ “Let Me Take A Selfie” kicks on, and BILLY WINTER appears in the entrance way, carrying with him a duffle bag full of goodies, and a blonde with perky tits.

Other Guy: I’m being told that Billy Winter’s valet for this evening is named Perky Tits.

Eryk Masters: Clever.

Samantha Coil: And his opponent,  from Manhattan, New York, he is BILLLLLLLYYYYY WIIIIIIIIIIINTERRRRRR!

Winter saunters toward the ring, a sick, twisted grin on his face.

Eryk Masters: I’m sorry. Is that a damn SLEDGEHAMMER sticking out of that bag?

Other Guy: Too small of a bag for that. I’m thinking it’s just the handle.

Eryk Masters: Doesn’t matter. He knows Kincaid is a world class technical wrestler. He’s not going to try and outwrestle him. He’s going to try to beat his damn brains in!

Winter slides his bag into the ring, abandoning Perky Tits at ringside, and slides inside. He gets to his feet and IMMEDIATELY clobbers Kincaid with a right hand! Kincaid goes down, purely out of shock, but Winter is quickly on top of him, both hands clenched TIGHT around his throat! The bell rings, and the match is officially underway!

Eryk Masters: Winter takes an early advantage with such a disgusting display of a blatant choke hold!

Other Guy: It’s legal! The sledgehammer is legal! Everything is legal! Something tells me this appeals to Billy Winter VERY much!

Kincaid flails his arms about, catching Winter with a blow to the side of the face, which thankfully, breaks the choke. Winter rolls to his feet, only to get caught with a double leg takedown from the defending Iron Fist Champion!

Eryk Masters: Kincaid now on top!

The fans cheer as Winter squirms to try and get free, but only manages to turn onto his stomach. Which is a VERY bad move. Kincaid begins raining down forearms across the face of Billy Winter! One after another! He grabs Winter’s hair and yanks back, bringing Winter’s face into the light, before snapping off one more forearm! Kincaid releases Winter’s hair, and grins as his face smacks against the canvas!  Winter crawls out from under Kincaid, who grins as it seems the Iron Fist champ looks to have a bit of fun.

Other Guy: Winter is in deep, now. Kincaid just walloped him good!

Winter turns and sees Kincaid stalking towards him he sticks his hands in the air, placing them perpendicular to one another, in a very unmistakable sign.

Eryk Masters: Time out? TIME OUT?

Kincaid shakes his head no. He lunges forward, but Billy Winter kicks him right in the nuts! The fans groan, and begin to boo. Kincaid doubles over in pain, grabbing at his junkbox.

Other Guy: No matter how big a man is, no matter what advantage your opponent has, if you kick him in the crotch hard enough, he’s going to stop punching you.

Winter puts his boot on Kincaid’s forehead and pushes back, sending the Iron Fist Champ to the mat. Winter hurries over and starts rummaging through his bag. Kincaid is back up, however, and coming after Billy Winter! He is about to smash down on him with a double axhandle, but Winter turns and SLAMS something into Kincaid’s stomach! He Kincaid winces in pain and then gets caught in the chin with the same item! Winter lets it fall to the mat, looking very satisfied.

Eryk Masters: Is that…..some kind of motor?

Other Guy: Looks like something from my Weed Eater.

Kincaid is groaning on the mat as Referee Dennis Heflin steps in to check on him. Then, he begins the first count of the match.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Kincaid gets to his knees, and then pulls himself to his feet. Winter begins kicking Kincaid in the back, trying to get him to buckle and fall. Kincaid pushes through, gritting his teeth, and turns and grasps Billy Winter! He takes him around, over head, and down with a HUGE  Falcon Arrow suplex! Winter CRINGES, his face showing a mixture of shock and pain.

Eryk Masters: And Kincaid is clutching at his ribs after that surprise suplex!

Kincaid massages his midsection, and begins to go to work on the fallen Winter. He puts his knees on Billy’s shoulders and pins him to the ground. Kincaid fires rapid fire right hands to the exposed forehead of the challenger, the crowd egging him on the entire time! Quicker than a hiccup, Kincaid floats around and grabs Winter’s head, slamming it repeatedly against the canvas!

Other Guy: Kincaid is working Winter’s gameplan: blunt force trauma! And it’s successful!

Winter looks extremely dazed as Kincaid gets off his foe. He is slow to get up, but he does make it to his knees, before eating a VICIOUS BIG FAT KILL TO THE FACE! Winter’s eyes roll back as he hits the canvas, spread eagle! Heflin checks on Winter, who is not responding! Kincaid steps back, allowing the ref to make his count!

One!

Two!

Three! Winter shakes a bit, but remains on the ground!

Four! Billy Winter rolls onto his stomach, a faraway look in his eyes.

FIVE!

SIX!

Winter pushes to his knees, then to his feet, standing a bit wobbly, but steady. Kincaid closes in, but takes a thumb to the eye! Kincaid stumbles blindly, turning his back to Winter, who uses the chance to strike hard with a right hand to the champion’s kidney! Kincaid drops to his knees, clutching his side!

And Billy Winter goes back to his bag of tricks. He pulls out another item, smallish, made of what appears to be brass.

Eryk Masters: Okay. That’s a doorknob.

Winter holds up the doorknob in the air, and the fans jeer. Winter sneers and advances on Kincaid. Kincaid gets back up to his feet and turns, JUST IN TIME to catch a doorknob being jammed into his eye socket!

Eryk Masters: That’s DISGUSTING! He’s going to pop his eyeball!

Other Guy: Well, anything goes, so long as your opponent is rendered unable to stand!

Winter grins as Kincaid writhes on the canvas. He casually drops the knob, landing on Kincaid’s Knob. The champion’s hands move from face to nuts quick as a flash.

Winter moves back to his bag, and grabs the sledgehammer handle. The lack of hammer shows that the handle is all that remains. It’s more than enough as he jabs it into the ribs of Kincaid, and then presses down against the champion’s Adam’s Apple with the hammer handle, cutting off the air supply!

Other Guy: Kincaid is kicking and squirming, but Winter is RELENTLESS.

The kicking starts to fade a bit, and the booing gets heavier. Winter tosses the handle aside, and starts hooking in a chicken wing hold on Kincaid. Kincaid struggles against him, but ends up working right into the clutches of Winter, who hooks in a straight jacket choke hold.

Eryk Masters: He’s got it hooked in! Winter calls this “Suck My Selfie”!

Winter’s graps tightens, with Kincaid’s arm pinned behind him, and legs hooked by Winter’s.

Winter motions for Perky Tits to toss him something. She reaches into her top, and removes Winter’s Galaxy S5 and slides it into the ring to him! Winter grabs it up and smiles, leaning in close to the purpling face of Kincaid!

Eryk Masters: He just took a selfie, as he’s STRANGLING the Iron Fist Champion!

Other Guy: He’s probably gonna create a new hashtag. #Cantbreathe?LOL

Winter slides the phone back to Perky Tits and releases the hold, leaving Kincaid face down on the canvas. He grabs Dennis Heflin by the collar, and shoves him toward the body of Kincaid, telling him to make the count!

Eryk Masters: Such disrespect!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

FIVE! Kincaid begins to stir!

SIX! The fans start clapping in unison, trying to will the Iron Fist Champion up!

SEVEN! Kincaid pulls his body to the ropes, grasping the bottom rope in his hand!

EIGHT! He pulls himself upward, grabbing the top rope with his other hand!

NI-Kincaid is up and the fans LOVE it! Winter HATES it! He picks up the hammer handle and advances on Kincaid, but Kincaid releases a spin kick, right to the midsection of Billy Winter! Winter drops his weapon and bends to pick it up, but Kincaid unleashes a KILLER uppercut the rocks the challenger! Kincaid himself bends and picks up the hammer handle! The fans ROAR as Kincaid looks at it, then at Winter.  Winter notices what’s going on and gets a look of fear on his face! Kincaid winds up and takes aim, and Winter covers up his face with both hands! Kincaid stops short, and changes direction, nailing the challenger in his thigh!

Eryk Masters: That’s gonna cause a charley horse!

Winter grasps his thigh, starting to limp! Kincaid picks up Winter, bending his leg at the knee, and lifts him up in the air! He brings Winter down, jamming Winter’s knee as he does! Winter clutches his bad wheel, trying to get away from Kincaid! But the champion is rolling now!  Kincaid kicks at the leg of Winter, who crawls into the corner to try and get away! Kincaid isn’t having that! He grabs both of Winter’s legs and pulls HARD, causing Winter to powerbomb himself out of the corner! The fans love it! Kincaid motions to the ref to start counting!

One!

TWO!

THREE! Winter rolls onto his stomach, and on top of his bag nearby!

FOUR!

FIVE! Winter is almost to his hands and knees!

SIX! Winter is on his knees, but takes a stiff kick to the back of the head from Kincaid! Dennis Heflin admonishes the champion, who raises his arms in the air innocently! Winter reaches out with his right hand for the ropes, and finds them. Heflin goes to count, but Winter is back to his feet, clutching his ribs.

Kincaid advances, and Winter unleashes his secret weapon. Literally. He strikes Kincaid in the forehead with a piece of pipe concealed in his hand! Kincaid drops to his knee, and Winter strikes again! He is able to smack Kincaid in the head one more time before the champion hits the ground in a slump!

Eryk Masters: That damn Winter just bludgeoned Kincaid with a plain piece of pipe! The Iron Fist Champion has been busted open!

Winter smells blood. He gets a greedy look on his face, and pounces on the champion.  Winter DIGS the end of the pipe into the wound on Kincaid’s forehead, causing blood to gush out a little more! Kincaid actually SCREAMS in pain! Winter jabs the wound hard with the pipe and starts waylaying Kincaid with that same weapon, alternating sides of Kincaid’s face!

Other Guy: I think the challenger is trying to cave in the face of Kincaid!

Eryk Masters: Absolutely disgusting!

Dennis Heflin has to physically remove Winter from bludgeoning Kincaid as Perky Tits ducks for cover, trying to take her eyes off the savagery of the man she escorted! Winter begins celebrating his premature victory, as Heflin begins his count!

One!

Two!

THREE! Kincaid is motionless!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX! KINCAID SITS UP! THE CROWD IS GOING CRAZY! Winter cannot believe it!

SEVEN! Kincaid reaches out for the rope, VERY unsteady on his feet!

EIGHT!

NINE! KINCAID IS UP!

NO! PERKY TITS REACHES UP AND SWEEPS THE FOOT FROM UNDER KINCAID! THE CHAMPION IS DOWN!

TEN! HEFLIN DOESN’T SEE IT!

*DING DING DING*

Eryk Masters: I can’t believe this! The champion was on his feet!

Other Guy: Not according to the referee! He didn’t see the interference!

Samantha Coil: Here is your winner…..and NEEEEWWWWWWWWW Iron Fist Champion…..BILLY…WIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNTERRRRRRRR!

Dennis Heflin hands Winter the Iron Fist Championship. He shoves Heflin away as Perky Tits crawls into the ring to help her man celebrate. Winter turns his back on her, and starts to leave the ring, clutching the Iron Fist title close to his chest.

Eryk Masters: She helped him win the damn thing. Now he turns his back.

Other Guy: He has some serious celebrating to do!

Eryk Masters: I may not like it, but we have a new Iron Fist Champion, folks. Truth be told, that title was STOLEN. Kincaid is gonna get his rematch some time soon.

Other Guy: He’d better be more prepared for the violence the new champion is going to bring. Brace yourselves, Iron Fist contenders: Winter is HERE.

Billy!

The voice booms from over the PA system.

Billy! Up here!

Up in his skybox, Dan Stein stands next to the railing, clapping for Billy Winter’s title victory. Dan’s toga is highlighted by the Sin City Championship on his shoulder. Billy Winter stops midway up the ramp with the title belt over his own shoulder, and to turn to Stein.

Dan Stein: Billy Motherfucking Winter, congratulations. As a former(Stein holds up two fingers)two time Iron Fist Champion, I think you’re going to be a great Iron Fist Champion.

The crowd boos both Dan Stein and Billy Winter now. Stein holds up his Sin City Championship as a sort of “cheers” for Winter, who raises his as well. As the fans boo the act of solidarity, Winter waves to them before continuing to the back. Noticing the fans watching Billy, Stein clears his throat over the microphone.

Dan Stein: Ahem. Loyal subjects of the Dan Stein Empire of Excellence…

The fans absolutely EXPLODE at the notion.

Dan Stein: You like that? ‘Empire of Excellence’? Thought of that myself. I thought it was pretty good, myself.

Stein waits a moment for the fans to quiet down. Putting the mic back to his mouth, Stein speaks.

Dan Stein: You know, from my perch up here, I’ve been able to… really sink my teeth into the action and do a bit of scouting. As a former World Heavyweight Champion myself, I take a lot of pride in my competition. I like knowing that I’ve beaten the best of the best to get to where I am. Guys like Ryan Shane and… Eli Storm.

Eryk Masters: Eli Storm has been rushed to the hospital, Stein! Don’t take credit for that!

Other Guy: Why not? He did beat the guy, didn’t he?

The fans cause a low rumble to roll across the arena.

Dan Stein: Get better soon, Eli! Maybe someday you’ll get that Grand Slam Championship you’ve been dreaming of… As for me…

Stein switches the Sin City Championship over to the other shoulder with a grin.

Dan Stein: As for the Sin City Champion, I’m going to be competing in the Master of the Mat tournament in two weeks.

And I’m going to win it.

Stein smiles brightly. The boos grow louder, Stein speaks to cut them off.

Dan Stein: See, I know that I’m going to win it… but I don’t want to go through the nobodies. I want you all to KNOW that the man that you cheer, and worship at the very end of the tournament… demolished the competition. Absolutely crushed the Soldiers that you know and love. So Jason Johnson can give me anyone he wants to at Revolution 126. ANYONE he wants. There is literally a PLETHERA of superstars he can throw at me. Because at 127…

Stein points to the ring.

Dan Stein: The winner of the main event tonight? The Baddest Man Alive? The King?

The fans ERUPT in anticipation. Stein snarls at the reaction.

Dan Stein: They have a loooong road in front of them. Whoever wins tonight takes on YOUR Sin City Champion at 127.

Dan looks around at the fans.

Dan Stein: Stay sexy, SHOOT.

Stein hands off the microphone to Molly, before raising the Sin City Championship high above his head.

“Down” by Stone Temple pilots hits the PA system and Chris Michaels walks out of the curtain.  He starts to make his way down the ramp to a luke-warm reception from the crowd. 

Samantha Coil:  The following match is set for one fall and is a qualifying match for the Master of Mat Tournament!  Introducing first, standing at six feet and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds.  He is the HotShot…CHRIS MICHAELS!

Michaels steps through the middle rope and stands in the center of the ring.  There are a few fans who recognize him from Premiere Wrestling Alliance, but mostly the crowd reaction is underwhelming.  He raises a single fist into the air and stands, waiting for his opponent.

“This Time it’s Different” by Evans Blue hits the speakers and Trevor Worrens walks up to the ramp.  There are several older fans in the arena that recognize the man standing at the stage.  Some of them begin to cheer, others begin to boo.  Overall, a good bit of the older fanbase seem to remember Worrens.  He’s wearing a pair of three-quarter length dark-blue trunks with “Feel Alive” written in black and indigo running down the left leg.  He wears an older black t-shirt with “Life is Pain: Pain is Good” printed on the front. 

Without much reaction, Trevor makes his way down the ramp, ignoring the few fans that attempt to reach out towards him, totally focused on his opponent.

Introducing next, standing at six foot one inch, weighing in at two-hundred and fourteen pounds…He is TREVOR WORRENS!

Eryk Masters: This should be an interesting matchup, O.G.  None of us have any idea what Michaels can do in the ring, and you can really say the same thing about Worrens given the length of time it’s been since we’ve seen him in the ring.

Other Guy: There may be a little ring rust, but Worrens is one of the most prolific Laws of Survival Champions we have ever seen, and he did come just one match shy of winning this tournament himself once.  Rust or no, I’d wager that Worrens is still one hell of a competitor.

Worrens steps into the ring through the center ropes and takes his shirt off, only taking his eyes from Michaels long enough to pull his shirt over his head.  He neatly folds the shirt in his hands and sets it down in the corner facing the timekeepers table.  Michaels is hopping back and forth, seemingly getting ready for action.  As the bell chimes, both men rocket into the center of the ring locking up.

Eryk Masters: And here we go!  Neither of these men wasting any time!

The two men struggle together for a brief moment before Worrens sends a knee into the gut of Michaels.  He quickly converts, lifting Michaels over his head into a snap vertical suplex.  Not wanting to waste any time, Worrens pounces on a fallen Michaels for the cover.  Scott Kamura looks a little surprised before dropping to the mat for the count.

ONE!

TWO!!  KICKOUT!

Michaels gets a shoulder up.  Worrens, not letting him get back off his back, grabs Michaels head in both hands lifting him up and slamming him back down to the mat,  Worrens makes another quick cover, hooking the leg.

ONE!

TWO!!

TH—KICKOUT!

Michaels puts everything he can into kicking Worrens off of him.  But before he can even raise his hands to his head Worrens ir right back at him, grasping both sides of his head in his hands and slamming him HARD back into the mat.  Worrens quickly rolls him up for another cover.

ONE!

TWO!!

THRE- – KICKOUT!!

Michaels BARELY manages to get a shoulder up and Worrens, thankfully makes his way back to his feet.

Eryk Masters:  One thing is for sure, Worrens certainly hasn’t lost his desire to win in his absence.  I don’t think I’ve seen that level of ferocity in quite some time.

Other Guy: Well can you blame him?  He came so close last time he was in this tournament, now he finds himself having to fight his way into it?  Worrens has a one track mind right now.

Worrens sizes his opponent up as Michaels is still lying on the mat, holding onto his head.  Worrens walks up to Michaels and kicks his hands from his head before reaching down and pulling him to his feet.  A groggy Michaels staggers backwards and is met by a barrage of palm strikes directly to the head.  Worrens backs Michaels up with the flurry of punches until he lands one especially hard blow, driving Michaels back into the turnbuckle.  The momentum from the blow slams Michaels’ back into the turnbuckle HARD. 

Michaels, seemingly on another planet, staggers forwards out of the corner just in time for Worrens to grasp him by the back of his head and forcefully driving him shoulder-first into the ring post!  The sickening thud Michaels’ shoulder makes echoes throughout the arena as Michaels crumples backwards into a heap on the canvas.

Other Guy: Oh My GOD!  Worrens is just having his way with Michaels tonight. 

Eryk Masters: These two men are on just totally different levels, O.G.

Michaels is lying flat on his back as Worrens circles him like a shark at feeding time.  Worrens stops, facing Michaels and delivers one sharp kick to the gut, causing Michaels to pop his upper body up in pain.  Without missing a beat, Worrens drops behind Michales locking in a Buffalo Sleeper Hold!

Eryk Masters: BROKEN BEYOND REPAIR!  HE HAS IT LOCKED IN!

Other Guy: This match is over.  This would be a good time to go and buy a SHOOT Project T-Shirt.

Michaels thrashes both of his legs wildly for only a second before he begins furiously smacking his unobstructed arm on Worrens shoulder! 

Eryk Masters: Worrens wins!  Worrens is moving on into the Master of the Mat Tournament.

The bell sounds and Scott Kamura directs Worrens to let loose of the hold.  Once he lets go, he delivers a single elbow shot into the back of Michaels’ head before grabbing his t-shirt in the corner of the ring.  As Samantha Coil Steps back into the ring, Worrens puts his shirt back on and steps out of the ring, immediately making his way back up the ramp.

Samantha Coil: Here is your winner at a time of Five Minutes and Fifty-Four seconds.  Trevor WORRENS!

By the time his music hits the PA, Worrens is already walking his way back to the locker room.  The spattering of fans who remember him, begin to cheer, as the others sit in stunned silence at the match that has taken place before them.

Other Guy: Well Worrens certainly made a statement to whomever draws him in the first round of the Master of the Mat.  This was a massacre.

Eryk Masters: Worrens is certainly a man on a mission.  There just may be no stopping him.

Maya’s eyes shift from the monitor, carefully watching the competitors in the Master of the Mat Tournament. He stretches his arms upward, rolling his neck around as it creaks and cracks. Maya hears something outside his locker room door, like a thousand bowling balls hitting the walls. He jumps up and sprints for the door, shouldering the door open as hard and fast as he can. For a moment, all Maya sees is red. It takes him a while to figure out that there’s a man under all of that red, a big man. Slouched over, when he opens his eyes Maya can instantly recognize the toxic green color. Maya practically slides across the floor to get to him, using his hand to push aside bloody chunks of hair, and already the eyes he recognized are swelling shut.

Maya cradles his neck with one hand, trying to shake him and keep him conscious.

Maya: Isaac, stick with me, stick with me.

Maya tries to keep the blood out of Isaac’s eyes, he wants to try to cover a wound… but there are too many for him to make a difference.

Maya: Isaac… who did this to you, who did this!?

Isaac’s eyes are incredibly bleary, his pallid flesh streaked in plasma. There’s the strong aroma of alcohol on his breath and when he finally speaks his voice comes out slurred and gruff, giving us the idea that he’d been drinking heavily even before he was attacked.

Entragian: Dunno. Back of the skull…fuckin’ cowards jumped me from behind.

Isaac reaches up and scrubs a trembling pallid hand against deep purple bruises across his throat. These bruises look older than any that could have been incurred during this backstage assault…and they’re in the shape of a noose.

Entragian: Didn’t I…*cough* didn’t I tell you to stay away from me, kid?

Isaac can just barely shake his head.

Entragian: You’re a persistent little bastard…

Maya becomes silent when he sees the bruise around Isaac’s neck. 

Maya: It’s gonna take more than that halfhearted beating to drive me away, you should know that better than anyone. Now, just shut up and let me help you.

Maya shreds off strips of his sleeves and wraps them around the freshest wounds, trying his best to stop the seemingly waterfall of crimson. Maya realizes the futility, but doesn’t stop until he has no shirt left to use as makeshift bandage. The flow of blood still doesn’t seem to stop.

Maya: This isn’t working…

Maya looks over his shoulder screaming at the top of his lungs for help. He stands up, making sure not to leave Isaac, and yells down the halls for anyone to help him.

Isaac laughs…a dry, haunted sound that comes out of blood-speckled lips…and it just as quickly devolves into a ragged coughing fit.

Entragian: Don’t you get it, BOY? There is no helping me…

Isaac’s hand scrabbles across the leg of Maya’s tights, pulling Maya down closer so that he can lock his bloodshot eyes on the World Champion.

When he speaks, blood runs in a little stream from his lips.

Entragian: You persevere…trying to redeem the irredeemable…you fight for a lost cause and this crusade of yours…will only end in disappointment. Why can’t you see that, boy?

Isaac’s hand slips from Maya’s tights, leaving a bloody handprint smeared across them. He closes his eyes, his breathing shallow…and for a moment Maya thinks he has slipped down into unconsciousness…until that dry croak of a voice exits his lips once again.

Entragian: What do you see in me…*cough*…that I do not see in myself…

Maya stays next to Isaac, he grips the back of his neck trying to get Isaac to stay conscious, the blood that smears over his hands and flesh seemingly not an issue to Maya.

Maya: I see a man lost in the darkness. I see a man unsure of which way to turn or what road to take to get home. I see a man, afraid, looking for answers but finding nothing but horrified faces, faces looking for revenge. I see change in you, Isaac, and I know you see it too. Even if all of this is for nothing, I have to at least try Isaac.

Maya shakes Isaac awake when it looks like his eyes were ready to close.

Maya: Isaac, if you learn nothing else from me then learn this… HOPE isn’t just for those born in the light.

Isaac grins. His razor-sharp teeth are stained with plasma…and is the grin of someone who wouldn’t recognize hope even if it bit him on the ass. It’s the grin of man born into hopelessness.

Entragian: HOPE. It always circles back to that with you. Let me…tell you somethin’ about hope, champ. Hope…will not allow Erick Brooks to ever walk again. Hope…won’t heal the blowtorch burns on Corazon’s back. Hope…won’t ever undo the damage I inflicted on Diamond Del Carver’s heart and soul…

Isaac’s eyes roll up to look at Maya, blood droplets caught in the white lashes.

Entragian: I took all hope away from them and a legion of others…and even if I WANTED to…I can never give it back…

Isaac turns away from Maya, staring off into the distance.

Entragian: Come closer…and let me tell you one last thing.

Maya leans down while holding Isaac’s head up…and the albino suddenly SPITS a torrent of blood directly into the World Heavyweight Champion’s face in an act of pure defiance.

He watches the blood drip down Maya’s features….and then he turns away once again.

Entragian: Fuck off with your HOPE…

Maya doesn’t even blink, he tilts his head and lets his eyes sink towards Isaac. Before touching the blood on his face, he wipes the blood trickling from the corner of Isaac’s mouth with his wrist. When a medical team finally storms onto the scene, they stand back for a moment, looking cautiously at each other.

EMT 1: Isn’t that…

The other EMT swallows so hard it’s audible.

EMT 2: Yeah… that’s him…

Maya immediately stands up, trying to get out of the way and let the EMTs get to work on Isaac. Both of them, however, simply stand there and look at Isaac.

Maya: Don’t just stand there, help him!

EMT 1: Champ… just leave him here. We won’t tell anyone you were here, no one is going to miss this piece of shit. Just let him bleed out, he deserves it.

The second EMT nods at Maya. Maya, however, grabs the EMT by the scruff of the neck and, completely out of character, flings him to Isaac’s side. The EMT stumbles onto his backside for a moment, mortified to be that close to Isaac.

Maya: I said, help him.

The EMT looks back up at Maya, shaking.

EMT 1: Why are you doing this… for this… this… monster!?

Maya: I said, HELP HIM.

Both EMTs look at each other still unsure of what to do, when they look at Maya and see how serious he is… they relent and start bandaging Isaac, tending to the numerous wounds on his body. The second EMT talks into his walkie, calling for a stretcher and an ambulance. Maya sighs with relief, tilting his body against the wall, looking at Isaac.

Maya: I never said you had to give back the hope you stole… Isaac, I want to give you HOPE of your own.

Isaac lies there, surprised by Maya’s persistence. His vision is starting to dim…but just before he loses consciousness a certain look flashes across his toxic green eyes as he looks up at the World Champion.

Isaac loses consciousness before this look can solidify and the EMTs reluctantly start loading him onto the stretcher with Maya remaining at the fallen monster’s side.

A single spotlight shines down on a sole figure, his back turned to the camera.  Strings are heard, building to the opening of “Unchained”, a mashup of James Brown and Tupac.  The individual wears a black leather jacket and a cloth black hood over his head.  On the back of the leather jacket is the image of a lion’s head outlined in white.  It is clearly a man, and the jacket seems new.  He is breathing heavily, making the stylized lion’s head seem to breathe in unison.  Then, a whispered voice.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…”

He slowly turned his head, revealing a bandanna tied over the man’s mouth.  The bandanna is fashioned to be the open snarling mouth of the lion, styled similarly to the design on the back of the jacket.  The hood hides his eyes, the camera catching only the snarling mouth of the lion. 

“…because I am the baddest mother fucker in the valley.”

The crowd knows now that it’s Donovan King, and they ERUPT. The screen goes black.  The arena goes black.  Tupac’s voice is heard in the darkness.

Am I wrong ‘cause I wanna get it on ‘til I die?

Am I wrong ‘cause I wanna get it on ‘til I die?

Get it on ‘til I die

Get it on ‘til I die

Y’all, y’all remember me

I like the way you die, boy.

The man appears at the entrance to the arena dressed in black tights, black boots, black leather jacket and a hood pulled over his head, a sole spotlight shining down on him.  He marches down to the ring with his head bowed and his fists clenched.  The camera catches glimpses of the snarling lion’s mouth on the bandanna wrapped around his face.  He keeps his head down and enters the ring by walking up the ring steps.  He marches to the center of the ring, his head bowed.

Samantha Coil:  Introducing first, he stands at six feet, one inches tall… he weighs in at two hundred and forty-two pounds… he is a former World Heavyweight Champion…  HE IS DONOVAN KING!!!

The crowd dies down and the lights dim. A dark purple glow overtakes the Epicenter. A very light piano chord hits, and then percussion.  It’s a bluesy beat, and the crowd recognizes it immediately. “Baddest Man Alive” by The Black Keys ft. RZA starts to pour through the arena speakers. The SHOOT Project video wall showcases “BADDEST MAN ALIVE” in western-style tombstone font, and the crowd is already ROARING when Adrian Corazon steps out from behind the curtains.

“I could take the pitchfork from the Devil; keep a super suit like I’m incredible…from the deep blue sea to the dark blue sky…”

“I’M THE BADDEST MAN ALIVE!”

Other Guy:  Gotta say, I’m a fan of the music choice. 

Eryk Masters:  I think it fits.  Donovan King has kind of a hip hoppy bluesy theme… Corazon has one.  We’re gonna see an old fashioned western shootout tonight!

Samantha Coil: Introducing second…he hails from Mexico City, Mexico…weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds… he is a former World Heavyweight Champion… THE BADDEST MAN ALIVE…ADRIAN CORAZON!!!

Corazon stands at the top of the ramp for a moment, smirk upheld on his face…and the crowd EXPLODES for one of SHOOT Project’s most dangerous Soldiers. Corazon’s trademark smiley face appears on the video wall, and dark purple pyro blasts up into the air on either side of the ramp, getting the frenzied fans even more excited.  Corazon makes his way down the ramp and rolls into the ring.

The air is thick with excitement as Donovan King and Adrian Corazon stand across from one another, separated only by Tony Lorenzo.  They haven’t taken their eyes off each other since King came down and it’s clear that the entire arena is divided in their support.  Corazon has his patented smirk, King his patented scowl.  Tony looks at King and then to Corazon and calls for the bell. 

Eryk Masters:  And heeeere we go.

Other Guy:  This is going to be awesome.  I have to say I think I might have wanted to see it in the finals, but who cares!

Eryk Masters:  Have to say, I think I’m glad we’re getting the Baddest Man Alive tonight and not the Brutal Inhuman. 

Other Guy:  You buy into that two sides thing too, yeah? 

Eryk Masters:  Absolutely.  I think Corazon does too.

The two meet in the middle of the ring like titans with Corazon wrapping Donovan up, collar and elbow style. Donovan King works against the momentum and shoves Corazon back into his corner.  Corazon’s back snaps off the top turnbuckle and he grimaces but comes forward with some force and cracks Donovan King’s jaw with a hard right hand.  The crowd goes “ooooohhh” and King holds his jaw, casting a glare at the Baddest Man Alive, and he comes back with a hard right hand of his own! 

Eryk Masters:  Oh MAN. 

Other Guy:  I have to say, I know there’s respect and friendship between these two, but when you get right down to it… these are two men who know what victory takes.

Corazon’s head comes back to its natural position and he smiles at King.  King rushes forward, but Corazon parries around him.  King is headed towards the turnbuckles, but puts his arms out to stop his momentum once he reaches the ropes.  What he doesn’t stop is Corazon coming in behind him, catching him around his neck, and bringing him down with a quick neckbreaker.  The two get back to their feet at about the same time.  King quickly juts his head to the left and right, popping his neck, while Corazon stands waiting. 

Other Guy:  Corazon’s been right so far.  This has started out pretty slowly.

Eryk Masters:  They’re feeling each other out, for sure.  No need to take unnecessary risks so early in this thing.

King and Corazon go to meet in the middle of the ring again, this time King taking the momentum and wrapping Corazon up with a collar and elbow tie-up, but he doesn’t waste time trying to jockey for position.  He pulls Corazon into a headlock and drives his fist into Corazon’s exposed face causing Corazon to go to his knee.  King takes two steps back, sizes up the downed Corazon, and then drives his knee squarely into Corazon’s skull!  Corazon hits the deck!  King covers! 

ONE.

TWO.

Kickout! 

Eryk Masters:  Nice near fall.  King showing he’s not afraid to try to end this quick.

Other Guy:  Oh I think they’d both love to end this quickly.  No need to fear that.

Corazon holds his hand to his head, trying to shake the cobwebs out.  King pulls Corazon up to his feet by the hair, earning admonishment from Tony Lorenzo.  King waves Lorenzo off and keeps on the attack.  He grabs Corazon in a front chancery with NO give and pulls Corazon up and over into a vertical suplex.  King hangs on to the front chancery and pulls Corazon back to his feet by his neck before dropping him down again into a DDT!  The crowd pops for the combination!

Other Guy:  Nice sequence! 

Eryk Masters:  I like it.  Quick changes in orientation, blood rushing to the head, then he drops down, picks him up and with all that blood still in his head, drops him down hard with a DDT.  Very nice.

King doesn’t go for a cover, instead he gets up, rebounds off of the closest rope and then drops an elbow into Corazon’s chest.  He does go for a cover this time and Lorenzo follows him down.

ONE.

TWO.

Kickout! 

Other Guy:  Another near fall and another blow to the psyche of Corazon.

Eryk Masters:  Near falls being used for a psychological advantage are severely underutilized. 

Other Guy:  What do you mean? 

Eryk Masters:  King knew that he wasn’t going to pin Corazon there, but by doing that, he told Corazon that he’s got ending this match on his mind.  There’s a chance that this puts doubt into Corazon’s mind, giving King the upper hand.

King, who appears to be in full control at this point, helps Corazon to his feet by way of his hair one more time, and gets chastised by Tony Lorenzo one more time.  He shoves Corazon’s stumbling person into the turnbuckles and rubs Corazon’s chest as though to “prepare” it for what’s to come.  What’s to come is a HARD chop that echoes through the Epicenter.  Corazon’s arms go up to cover his chest, his hair covering his face.  King shoves his arms down and chops him AGAIN and the crowd goes “oooooh”.  Corazon’s arms go up one more time and King throws them down and chops him one more time.  Corazon leans back against the back turnbuckle, processing the unnatural amount of pain those chops caused. 

Eryk Masters:  My chest is burning just from the sound those chops made.  Like PT-KnifeEdgeChopSD. 

Other Guy:  That doesn’t make any sense, but I’ll take your word for it.

Corazon’s body returns to a more natural lean against the turnbuckle.  His arms are still up, covering his chest.  King is smiling now.  He shoves Corazon’s arms down one more time and goes for a chop, but this time Corazon is ready and he ducks the chop!  King finds himself against the turnbuckle now and Corazon’s eyes go WILD.  The crowd POPS.  IMMEDIATELY, Corazon begins to light King up with HARD right hand after HARD right hand, so much so that Tony Lorenzo comes in and begins to administer a five count!  Corazon waits until the VERY last moment to stop punching Donovan King and takes two steps away.  Then he walks back into King and rocks him with another hard right.  King slumps against the turnbuckle and a trickle of blood is seen coming from his mouth.

Other Guy:  WOW. 

Eryk Masters:  I don’t think there’s any arguing that Adrian Corazon is a demon in this business. 

Other Guy:  Still thinking we’ve got the Baddest Man Alive.

Eryk Masters: All I know is that right now, we have Adrian Corazon, whatever he is.

Corazon has red and purple splotches across his chest as he takes King’s arm and whips him across the ring and into the opposite turnbuckle.  He follows King up with hard knee to the gut which doubles King over and brings him out of the corner.  Corazon follows that up by kicking King’s legs out from under him and then immediately drops an elbow into King’s chest.  He covers! 

ONE.

TWO.

Kickout! 

Eryk Masters:  Corazon has decided that two can play the near fall game.

Other Guy:  So what you’re saying is we have a little bit of a chess match going on right now.

Eryk Masters:  Well, I’d say that it’s more like a wrestling match with some chess elements, but yes.

Other Guy:  You’re an asshole, haha, and that’s why I love you.

Corazon takes a quick breather while King is lying on the mat, face up.  King rolls to his stomach and starts to get to his feet.  Corazon notices immediately and goes over to help King up the rest of the way.  He hangs on to King’s head, and turns to pop him in the face via headlock, but King uses his strength to lift Corazon up and drop him with a high backdrop to the delight of the very loud crowd!  Both men hit the mat and King uses one arm to drape across Corazon for a cover! 

ONE.

TWO.

Corazon reaches a rope and Lorenzo calls for the break. 

Eryk Masters:  Hard to say if that’s an energy conservation move on Corazon’s part or if he just didn’t have the strength to kick out at this point.

Other Guy:  He got the wind taken out of his sails pretty quickly, that much is certain.

Corazon and King both get to their feet at the same time.  King is to his feet just a second earlier.  He engages Corazon, and tries to get him up for another vertical suplex.  He has trouble lifting Corazon the entire way and Corazon drops to his feet.  King growls and pulls him up one more time, but Corazon slips his grip and lands on his feet behind Donovan King.  King turns around and Corazon picks him up into a fireman’s carry! 

Eryk Masters:  He’s going for the Fury of the Dark Heart! 

Other Guy:  This would SERIOUSLY turn the momentum. 

King senses the same thing and starts to struggle.  He slips off of Corazon’s shoulders and immediately HITS CORAZON WITH THE ALIENATOR!  The capacity crowd LOSE THEIR MINDS.

Eryk Masters:  ALIENATOR!! 

Other Guy:  THIS COULD BE IT.

King rolls over from his back to his front and throws an arm across Corazon who hasn’t moved.  Lorenzo goes down for the count! 

ONE.

TWO.

THRE—NO.

Lorenzo calls for the break as Corazon has placed a foot on the bottom rope!  The crowd goes NUTS.  King gets to his knees and slaps the canvas. 

Eryk Masters:  Oh MAN.  You can tell King is feeling the desperation at this point. 

Other Guy:  They both seem to be unstoppable yet somehow human.  I don’t even understand it.

King gets to his feet, Corazon is halfway up when King meets him.  He pulls him up the rest of the way, hangs on to his left arm and winds up for a short arm lariat that would put Corazon back on the mat, but Corazon ducks!  King is left with his back to Corazon and Corazon has him measured!  THUD.  ACT OF REALITY. 

Eryk Masters: We’ve definitely seen a match where the Reality Check and the Alienator were used, and it’s not Real Deal or OutKast in the ring right now.

Other Guy:  I’d say that these two are better than those guys were, man.  I know that’s crazy, but look at what we’re witnessing right now. 

Corazon goes for the cover!  Lorenzo counts!

ONE.

TWO.

THRE—NO. 

Now it’s KING’S turn to experience the grace of being close to the ring rope as his foot is draped across the bottom ring rope.  Now it’s Corazon’s turn to be frustrated as the camera pans, showing him with an annoyed smirk on his face, lying face up, staring at the ceiling. 

Eryk Masters:  What’s going to happen next? 

Other Guy:  Who knows, E.  Who knows.  All I know is, if this is what we can expect out of Master of the Mat?  Pffffft.  No other tournament compares.

Lorenzo begins a very slow, customary ten count.  King and Corazon are both going to get up, but they’re going to take their time to do it and attempt to catch their breath.  Lorenzo hits six and the two get to their knees and stare across the ring at each other, both smiling.  King’s since wiped the trickle of blood away and the red and purple splotches on Corazon’s chest have faded just slightly.  Lorenzo stops his count at eight when they both get to their feet. 

Eryk Masters: I’ll tell you this… I’m in awe.  Not even like, heart peeing awe.  Just like… mad respect awe.

Other Guy:  I’m there with you on that.  These two are the very definition of a SHOOT Project Soldier.

The two saunter towards each other.  King throws a hard right, Corazon gets rocked.  Corazon settles back and throws a hard right at King!  The crowd, sensing what’s about to happen, start to get really loud.  King throws a right at Corazon!  Corazon at King!  Corazon has blood in his mouth now.  King hits Corazon again!  Corazon leans back and spits a bloody wad out before coming back and NAILING King again!  King fakes the hard right this time and instead kicks Corazon in the gut!  He grabs Corazon’s arm and whips him into the rope!  Corazon rebounds.  King ducks down, but Corazon rolls off of his back and lands on his feet!  King turns to face him and CORAZON HITS THE ACT OF INHUMANITY!  HE GOES FOR THE PINFALL!

ONE.

TWO.

THREE!!

Eryk Masters:  He did it!  He won! 

Other Guy:  Corazon picks up a HUGE win and a HUGE momentum builder as he goes into Master of the Mat! 

Eryk Masters:  Here’s another fun fact for you, OG.  Corazon just joined a very exclusive club. 

Other Guy:  And that is? 

Eryk Masters:  He joins 3M and Dan Stein as one of three people who’ve been able to pin Donovan King in the last two years.  That’s a HUGE feather in his cap.

Other Guy:  I hadn’t even considered that.  King had a nice, long unpinned run for sure.  Very nice stat. 

Samantha Coil:  Your winner, at a time of twenty minutes and twenty three seconds, the BADDEST MAN ALIVE… CORAZON.

Corazon goes over to help King to his feet, but King shoves him off and gets to his own feet.  Corazon backs off and waits for King to stand.  He extends his hand to Donovan King who contemplates it for a moment, but before he can make his decision, the crowd erupts into boos and Corazon gets blindsided and hit in the face with the gold belt of the new Iron Fist Champion, BILLY WINTER!  Corazon falls from the ring and into the barricade, Winter smirks and turns to look at Donovan King. 

Eryk Masters:  I don’t even… why is Billy Winter even OUT HERE? 

Other Guy:  I don’t know, but he definitely just fucked up what was a REALLY cool moment. 

Winter smiles at King who’s weary from the match he just fought and Winter kicks him in the gut!  He pulls King up and over into a jumping piledriver, flattening the former World Heavyweight champion with what he calls the SHATTERED MIRROR.  The crowd is VERY angry now and Winter seems to be loving it.  He grabs King and pulls him up.  King is very close to losing consciousness and Winter just locks him into his signature submission, the Suck my Selfie!  King grimaces as Winter grins. 

Other Guy:  This is ridiculous.  I can’t even begin to describe how I feel about this beyond that word, E.  Just ridiculous.

Eryk Masters:  We JUST had what I’d consider a very serious contender for Match of the Year, and this PRICK comes out here and RUINS it.

Winter, ever the showboat, has pulled his phone from his pocket.  He holds it up and obviously takes a picture of him holding King in this chokehold, with King’s face all contorted in pain.

Eryk Masters: Can we get someone out here to break this up? 

Winter releases King from the hold, but keeps him standing upright just long enough to hit him AGAIN with the Shattered Mirror.  King is laid out flat on the mat. 

Winter stands over him.

He raises the Iron Fist Championship well over his head.

Other Guy:  Anger at his involvement at the end of this match not withstanding, say what you want about Billy Winter, but that man made a new enemy tonight, and he also made a very real, very serious statement. 

The camera pans out showing Winter’s aftermath.  He has a foot on Donovan King’s chest, and Corazon is still leaning up against the barricade in pain.  Winter stares into the camera, pulls the Iron Fist Championship close to his face.  He smiles.

“PLEASE get the smile that’s on my face right now.” 

Black.