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Eternal: Legacy of the Triad

Black Sheep Baez

Let’s start this show off with a bang, or what ya boi usually calls a “bangalang”.  That’s right, it’s another moment with Black Sheep Baez and one of the hot SHOOT Project interviewers.  The crowd’s cheering is absorbed through the walls of the Epicenter because everyone in attendance is a fan of the Black Sheep, baby!  We’re not far from gorilla, and that means that the first match of the night is on the horizon.  The Premier championship is on the line.  The look on Baez’s face tells the story, but he’s trying hard to change it up so that he can stay positive.  Abigail Chase smiles to all watching at home, and turns to the champ.  


Abigail Chase:  Ladies and gentlemen, we’re just moments from the first match of Eternal, Legacy of the Triad, to which you’ll see this man defend his championship against Madison Seton.  Black Sheep, we’re all well aware of the emotions you’ve been going through heading into this match.  You’ve called this the greatest match of your career.  Is there anything you’d like to add before you head to the ring?  


That’s a hard question to answer, and that’s present on ya boi’s face.  He strokes his chin, and then smiles all while staring down at his championship belt.  There’s a brief moment of silence as he rubs the faceplate.  


Black Sheep Baez: Homie, lemme just say that win, or lose, ya boi finna come out stronger than ever.  This title means a shit ton to me, and I’ve said what I’ve needed to say and done what I’ve needed to do to prove that.  Where I come from ya gotta keep up or ya finna fall out.  I’ve lived by that and will let it whisper in my head non-stop.  Keep up, or fall out.  Keep up, or fall out, and I’ll let it lift me up in the hardest moments.  Maddie Seton, she’s kept up.  She got a lot of shit on her mind, but there’s one thing we all know she thinkin’ about on the nightly, and that’s what I wear around my waist.  This right here [he slaps the face plate again] this right here is what she needs, and she will do whatever it takes to get it.  Respect.  Ya boi has also lived by the ride or die that if ya want something bad enough then ya gotta put in the work to achieve it.  Put in that work.  She a workhorse just like her sister.  So, Abby, ya boi finna go out there and do the same.  Imma put in work, and imma do it in front of the greatest fans in the world.


The crowd’s cheering increases with the drop of calling them the greatest fans and Black Sheep closes his eyes to take a moment and feel their fandom.  A deep breathe, and then he’s back in it.  He starts to rotate his shoulders.  He pivots his head back and forth, and then cracks his knuckles.  He hops up and down, a big smile on his face, and he’s geeked!


Black Sheep Baez:  Abigail, this is IT! LETS-FUCKING-GO!  LET’S GO!  It’s time, baby.  It’s time to get down.  Maddie Seton – ya boi is as ready as he’ll ever be, and that’s one hunnid.  At the end of the night we’ll both be on top of the world, and the rest of this story will be paved in gold for time to come.  Now, lemme get this night started on the right note.  Because everyone in attendance knows that ya boi is ready.  You wanna know how they know?  Because the high deities have sent the message.  The universe has spread this communication from this galaxy to the next.  Every species from here to the planet Yimtukutuku [he clicks, whistles, and then snaps his fingers] are tunin’ in to watch this match.  And, that’s…


He looks at Abigail in the eyes, and turns down the volume.


Black Sheep Baez: That’s on God.


“Close Your Eyes (and Count to Fuck)” by Run the Jewels begins.  Cue Zachary De La Rocha.  Black Sheep winks at Abigail and then struts away.  She watches with a smile as the camera cuts to the stage where the fans are cheering on their Premier champion.


Samantha Coil:  The following match is a one fall for the SHOOT Project Premier Championship! Heading to the ring, weighing in at 215 pounds, he’s from Buffalo, New York…


Ya boi runs out onto the stage with a huge smile and immediately stops at the edge of the ramp.  He’s definitely eating up the crowd reaction.  His eyes pan the SHOOT Project epicenter and then he points in every direction in an attempt to rile up the crowd.  Then he closes his eyes and listens for the drop.  The part of the song where the Rage frontman sets it up: FUCK THE SLOW-MO.


Samantha Coil: He is your SHOOT Project Premier Champion, YA BOI, BLACK – SHEEP – BAEZ!


His eyes snap open and he rips the championship belt from his waist.  He holds it up for all to see as he walks down the ramp with the ring in his crosshairs.  






Eryk Masters: We start the night off with a battle, Guy, and it’s for the Premier title.  Madison Seton is challenging Black Sheep Baez, and the amount of respect these two have for each other seems to grow larger each week.


Other Guy: You can hear it in the Epicenter, ‘ryk, but the fans love this guy and they’re rooting for him, but they’re also torn.  Maddie Seton has a lot of these fans smitten.  It’s going to be difficult for who they’ll side with during this match.  I assume we’re going to get a lot of back-and-forth chants for both competitors.


Eryk Masters: We’ve got two wrestlers hungry for the big time and this is a milestone booking for both.  I think we’ve heard it enough, but it’s still safe to say that this will be the start of something beautiful for Maddie, and ya boi.


Other Guy: I love hearing you say that.  Say it again.  


Eryk Masters: Ya boi?


Other Guy: Ah, yes. There it is.


Speaking of ya boi, he hopped up onto the ring apron and immediately scaled the turnbuckle.  He has the Premier Championship held high in the air and he’s slapping his chest.  The crowd’s cheers are loud, but not loud enough to drown out the champ shouting: LET’S GO!  He continues to beat on his chest and his excitement is let out in roars.  The time comes for the champ to hop into the ring and he spins like a tornado until he’s center stage for all to see.  He has the title in both hands, he holds it above his head, and then hands it to the referee who eventually does the same to show the crowd what this match is worth.  Baez stretches, and gets limber, then walks over to his corner and gets ready for the biggest defense of his career.

Something wicked…

The three dings of the bell signifies that the match is over and the crowd is going absolutely wild.  What a match.  Both superstars put their bodies on the line.  They took each other to task.  The Epicenter rumbles with the vibration and noise of a satisfied crowd because no matter who goes home rockin’ that bad ass belt: this crowd witnessed a banger.  


Eryk Masters: AND STILL the SHOOT Project Premier Champion…


Other Guy: Say his name!  Say…his…name!


Eryk Masters: BLACK


Other Guy: SHEEP


Eryk Masters: BAEZ!


Yea, ya boi retained, and against a super talented and mega tough opponent.  The referee grabs the belt and presents it to the champ as he rises with exhaustion to spaghetti legs.  The belt is hoisted in the air, but not for long, because his attention is on the challenger.  It’s obvious that BSB respects Maddie Seton, because he’s helping her up to her feet.  There’s a concerned look on his face.  His hand rests on her shoulder as she whips her sweaty hair back.  The champ takes a step back and extends his hand as she rises.  


Eryk Masters:  Baez is looking to shake Maddie’s hand, Guy.  This is a real show of respect from the champ, and most definitely tells the entire SHOOT Project what this man is all about.


Other Guy:  There’s celebrations, and then there’s the fact that these two have told a phenomenal story.  The coming of age, and the chase, all came to an end tonight at Eternal.  What a damn match!


Will she accept the handshake?  With her arm wrapped around her abdomen, and her eyes wincing, she’s not looking defeated – she’s looking strengthened and conscious of what to do next.  She knows that this could have only gone two ways, and she put her all in it one way or the other.  We all know how she is on the court, and the same sportsmanship extends to the ring.  She’s nodding her head as sweat drips from the tips of her hair to create puddles in the ring.  It’s right then and there that she slowly greets his handshake with hers.  Their hands lock and ya boi’s smile is wider than it was when he won the match.  The crowd goes wild! He spins Maddie around and holds her arm up for the entire crowd to embrace her.  He points at her to recognize a real fighter, and a warrior like no other.  They go from the hard camera, to the sides of the ring, and then behind them, raising their arms in the air and wincing from the pain that’s been caused by their scorched battle. 


Other Guy:  We love moments like this, Eryk.  They don’t come often.  


Eryk Masters:  Well, it’s not often that two competitors have an even amount of respect for each other.  It’s usually the yin and the yang, and that’s what drives these outstanding matches.  But, you’re right, we love the moment when it comes.  


Maddie nods all while giving a recognizable point toward the champ and then exiting the ring.  Now it’s Al’s moment to relish in the glory of his victory as the audio team has finally started up ya boi’s theme “Close Your Eyes and Count to Fuck” by Run the Jewels.  Zachary De La Rocha’s voice couldn’t sound better vibrating across the epicenter as BSB hurries to the closest hard camera turnbuckle and leaps up to the second rope.  He’s slappin’ the taste out of that belt and he’s geeked to the gills for this massive victory.  He’s hootin’ and hollerin’ out to the crowd, but ya boi decides to jump down and head across the ring to give the other side some love.  The music abruptly stops.  The lights go out.  It’s pitch black. 


Other Guy:  Eryk…


Eryk Masters: What the Hell? 


Other Guy: Did we forget to pay the electric bill again?


Eryk Masters: C’mon, Guy, we all know the Johnson’s own stake in the electric company.


A lot of chatter throughout the crowd.  A lot of wonder.  A lot of confusion.  A lot of cell phones trying to light up the Epicenter.  The lights finally pop on after nearly a minute, and when they do the crowd erupts as Lexi Gold, dressed in all black, looking dejected and unkempt, tramples toward the champion’s back from the corner of the ring.  Baez isn’t fast enough, but he turns around just in time to get clotheslined straight to the canvas!


Eryk Masters:  Wha-wha-WHAT THE HELL?


Other Guy:  Lexi noooooooooooo!


A whirlwind of boos rattle the Epicenter as Lexi continues with stomp after stomp after stomp into Baez’s back.  She falls on top of him, straddling the champion, and unleashes a fury of forceful punches.  Some miss, but those that don’t leave a brutal mark, and there’s definitely blood involved.  Her surge of energy isn’t over, and this attack continues with her pulling the champ to his knees.  There’s no wasted time.  She’s a woman on a mission.  She grabs his arms by the wrists and her clench is shark tight.  Her goal is to repeatedly kick BSB in the face while he’s down and she successfully does so.  Not once, not twice, let’s just say she hit him so many times, so fast and so powerful, that ya boi’s eyes are rollin’ back.  Lexi pulls him up and then whips him across the ring so that he flies between the ropes and rolls over the apron to the floor below.  The Premier Title is lying in the center of the ring, and Lexi picks it up.  She stares at it, and then tosses it aside.  She glances over at the turnbuckle where she came and shoots an evil smirk over to her doll that is observing the carnage from the top buckle.







Other Guy: What in the Hell is wrong with this woman?  What’s become of her?  Why is she doing this!?


Eryk Masters: I’m speechless.  We need to get some help down her stat because I don’t think she’s done.




No, she’s not, and she slides under the ropes to meet BSB on the outside.  He’s on one knee, and he looks up at her through a thin red filter.  He’s confused, blind sided, maybe even blinded, and he gets no time to react because she thrusts the sole of her boot into his bloody mouth and he flies backward.  Another shot to the face for good measure.  She stalks him.  Her evil eyes don’t leave his sight.  She’s grinding her teeth, and breathing heavily.  Ya boi crawls to the steel steps and pulls himself up, but Lexi spins him around and lifts him up to connect with a vicious spinebuster onto the top of the steel!  The thud, the sound of his skin smacking against the metal, it’s disgusting and even the crowd lets out a horrific gasp.


Other Guy: Oh my God, she’s going to break his back!  This man has had enough back issues!


The SHOOT Project crew rushes to the ring as fast as possible, but the damage is already done.  Baez rolls down the steps like a crippled slinky and his eyes are wide.  His back is arched.  His arm is wrapped around making sure his spine is still behind the skin.  She kneels to a knee beside him and rubs her hand in his bloodied face.  Her eyes focus on her red right hand, and she holds it up for all to see.  The crew makes it to her just in time, but right as she’s wiping his blood across her face like warpaint.  The SHOOT officials, five deep, all help in pulling Lexi back so that two of them can wrench her arms and aggressively move her away from the fallen. She’s laughing, maniacally laughing, and she’s happy with what she’s done.  The crowd has grown silent.  Their eyes are on BSB.


Eryk Masters: (Speaking softly, and concerned) Folks this doesn’t look good.  Officials are waving for medical.  Lexi, well – I don’t even know if we should call her that, she’s snapped.  She’s snapped and put Black Sheep in her crosshairs.  


Lexi instantaneously breaks free but she doesn’t go after Baez, on the contrary, she leaps onto the apron and scoops her doll from the turnbuckle.  The two officials are quick to pull her down before she could escape through the ring and take her away.  Lexi is kicking her legs.  She smacks her heels against the floor so that they drag her instead.  She’s making it harder for them, and that’s apparent by her sadistic grin.


Other Guy: Medical and the officials are transferring Baez to the orange stretcher.  He’s not moving Eryk.


Eryk Masters:  Ladies and gentlemen we are going to take a break from ringside and go backstage. This isn’t how we were hoping to start the night. Our thoughts and prayers are with Black Sheep Baez.  What a despicable act.  Unbelievable.


Medical carries BSB away strapped to the Sked.  His right arm slowly rises as he gives the crowd a weakened thumbs up.  The SHOOT faithful erupt and cheer as the scene transitions to the next segment, but not without an up close shot of the blood covered Cheshire grin from Lexi Gold as she’s dragged backstage.      

Making New Friends

Eryk Masters: We’re going to take you backstage now, as SHOOT cameras caught this little development a little earlier in the day today.


Other Guy: Are we just spying on general conversations here at the Epicenter now?


Eryk Masters: Your guess is as good as mine, OG, but let’s take a look at what happened earlier this afternoon.

We head backstage to a narrow brick corridor…where we find NC-17 leaned up against a wall nonchalantly. He’s in his hot pink wrestling gear but appears at ease; in fact, it looks like he’s speaking with somebody…none other than MADDIE SETON. 17 is smiling coyly, and while Seton’s letting him talk, she doesn’t look nearly as amused.


NC-17: I just think older guys, we got a little more experience, y’know? Hey, which Johnson do you think has the bigger Johnson anyways?


El Paria walks up, having heard NC-17’s question. He chooses to ignore it, and instead looks over at and addresses Madison Seton.


El Paria: Making new friends, Mads? 


Madison Seton: If you must know…


She looks back at Paria, her brows raised.


Madison Seton: You want me to tell him?


Seventeen shivers like a teenage boy who’s just seen a naked lady for the first time and licks his lips. Weird.


NC-17: ooOOOOoh baby I want YOU to tell me…but whisper it in my ear all slow and sexy like for daddy. Don’t be shy, get in reeeaaal close. Close enough to feel my breath. Close enough to hear my heart beat. Bah bump. Bah bump. Bah bump.


With every would-be heart beat sound effect, Seventeen draws in closer on Maddie. Before he can reach her, El Paria steps in between the two of them.


El Paria: You really are a caricature, dude. It’s like you read the Incel Rebellion and thought to yourself “yo, that’s fuckin’ me” and you dialed it up to 11. Are you okay man? Do we need to get you help? SHOOT has great psychiatric services…


Madison Seton: Oh, let’s just humor him.


Paria gets a disapproving look and shakes his head, knowing better.


Madison Seton: Oh, come on.  He won’t–well, maybe he would, but… 


NC-17’s demeanor does a 360. He put his hands up defensively, as if to say, “whoa buddy.” 


NC-17: Whoa buddy, relax! Don’t be such a pussy, it’s just a rib my guy. Ya know, a lil’ “locker room” talk, baby, I can tell you kids never saw a Pepe Le Pew skit and it makes me sad. Besides… 


He gives the camera a sly weasel-eye.


NC-17: I like older bitches anyways. I was actually here to ask about your mom Laura…


Madison Seton: Just because she acts like my mom and is a mom… doesn’t mean she is my mom.  And as far as I know, she’s the only person who is a mom that hasn’t literally been fucked.


El Paria: What even is Pepe Le Pew? Some weird boomer shit, I’m sure. Mads, I really do think he’s an alien that was imbued with some outdated info about how earthlings work. It’s okay Seventeen, if you need help getting back to your home planet, we ARE in Las Vegas. Area51 isn’t THAT far away.


Paria laughs.


El Paria: Pepe Le Pew. Ridiculous.


Seventeen laughs back louder and more obnoxiously and claps Paria on the shoulder, squeezing it…


NC-17: Hey, there’s a smile! See, no need to be nasty, we’re all friends here! Couple uh co-workers having a laugh or two! Getting to know each other!


He winks and points at Maddie, now backing up.


NC-17: But seriously. Give a shout to mama Seton for me. I’ve always had a mother/daughter fantasy man, there’s something about it that’s just sooo…ew, ya know? Haha, maybe the wet blanket here can watch and learn a boomer trick or two while we’re at it, yah?


Seventeen laughs annoyingly again before disappearing down the hallway, clearly trolling but definitely trying to avoid a conflict as well…leaving Paria and Seton to figure out what the hell all that was about, and cutting back to the ringside area with Eryk Masters and the Other Guy.


Eryk Masters: Weird exchange earlier this afternoon between Madison Seton, who seems VERY focused on the Premier Championship, NC-17, and El Paria.


Other Guy: Paria seemed a little shook, didn’t he? Wild if so. Not really great mental, if so. That was a harmless conversation.


Eryk Masters: Don’t know if I agree with you there, but you gotta hope that that whole thing doesn’t play into their upcoming match. And just like that, we’re taking it to the ring. Contendership to the Premier Championship is on the line, and that match is NEXT!


I Now Pronounce You DAIHMBREAST

 The Epicenter arena goes dark, lingering in the pitch for several seconds before the opening riff of Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark” bursts over the speakers with strobing lighting in accompaniment.

Fans rise to their feet as Daihm Ferguson steps forward from the back on to the top of the stage, wearing his original Dragon mask and flowing, royal blue robe with white fringe. 

When there’s lightning, you know it always brings me down

‘Cause it’s free and I see that it’s me

Who’s lost and never found!

The Scottish, second-generation SHOOT soldier reaches up and confidently removes his mask to reveal a beaming, boyish face as he tosses the mask into the crowd as fans clamor for a chance at the treasure.

I cry out for magic, I feel it dancing in the light

It was cold, I lost my hold

To the shadows of the night!

The crowd oos and aahs as the rampway lights up into a giant rainbow, like the Asgardian Bifrost. Daihm walks down as Dio’s voice croons and he waves at the crowd.

Eryk Masters: This is a hell of an entrance for the younger Ferguson, especially given that he isn’t even booked tonight. Actually, I don’t think he’s been booked for months! Maybe that’s why he’s down here? To remind people he’s still around.

Other Guy: Come on, Eryk! Who are you kidding? Everyone knows Daihm has the best rizz in the biz.

Eryk Masters: Don’t ever speak to me that way again.

Daihm climbs into the ring and waves to the crowd as he’s handed a microphone and takes in the scene.

Daihm Ferguson: Thank you, everyone. I am so chuffed that Mr. Johnson gave me time on tonight’s packed show to speak to you lot. And I promise I won’t take up much time. But… there’s someone special I’d like to have come out here and join me tonight.

Daihm’s voice waivers slightly as he trails off. He tries to laugh through it and shakes his head as the fans begin to cheer.


Daihm’s face flushes slightly as he looks around and runs his hand through his hair.

Daihm Ferguson: Chick? I know things didn’t go the way we planned at the last show, but I’m hoping that if you come out here I can make it up to you. What do you say?

The fans roar as Daihm turns to look at the rampway as “Jungle Work” by Warren Zevon hits on the PA. Out from the back comes a somewhat befuddled looking but still pumped up and aggro-intense CHICK GRILLBREAST. He mocks pressing big weights over his head as he stalks down the aisle, slapping hands with fans whom he deems have made sick enough gainz to make physical contact with. He gets in the ring and grabs a microphone.


Chick Grillbreast: HI DAN DRAGON!


Daihm beams as he walks up to Chick and pulls him in for a big hug that has the SHOOT Project crowd tittering.

Chick does look slightly confused as Daihm steps back and thinks about what he wants to say.

Chick Grillbreast: Are we here to talk about your training!? Quick, go and lift that man in the “WOLF MAN STAN” shirt. He seems puny! You can squat him!

Daihm shakes his head and laughs.

Daihm Ferguson: No, Chick, I wanted to talk about us.

Other Guy: Oh shit. Here comes the tea.

Eryk Masters: Who ARE you right now?

Daihm Ferguson: Look, I know that we’ve been together a lot and it’s been real ledge to have you around. I feel like … together we make each other better. It’s been real mint, ya’ know? So, what I want to ask you, Chick…

Chick watches as Daihm bends down to one knee and reaches into his cloak pocket.

Other Guy: It’s happening!

The fans are on their feet, roaring with excitement as Daihm pulls out a tiny velvet box. 


Daihm Ferguson: Is will you be my-




“Pump It” by Electric Callboy hits. There is a roar of boos as Maximo Fisico and Kid Lucha emerge from the back. Maximo is in his usual pink robe and barely anything else, Kid Lucha in his full ring attire, but there is one difference. Wrapped around Fisico’s VERY defined waist is a title belt. The leather strap is a bright pink color, the title plate is silver, and embossed in green letters across the plate is “SEXIEST IN SHOOT”. Maximo removes the belt from his waist and holds it high in the air, which triggers a huge cannon of pink and green streamers to launch in the air. Kid Lucha stretches one leg out and poses in a pointing fashion as streamers rain down on them.


Eryk Masters: Did anyone tell him that he only won a Spitter handle from Dan Stein?


Other Guy: Did he pay for that to be made? It looks…kinda legit if not horribly gaudy.


Maximo and Lucha make their way to the ring. Daihm looks mortified while Chick looks pissed and ready to explode. None of this changes the team’s arrogance. Maximo and Lucha seem to be in no hurry, walking all the way over to the ring bell area to get a microphone, before leisurely entering the ring.Maximo stands across from Daihm while KL stands across from Chick.


Maximo Fisico: This is…adorable. I mean, que lindo, this is clearly what the SHOOT Project faithful want.


The SHOOT Project faithful start cheering to negate the sarcasm of Maximo Fisico.







Kid Lucha: When did this place become a bad Tumblr blog? Like, shipping two wrestlers? Is…is Chick even gay? Does Chick even have the mental capacity to understand what being gay is?




Daihm holds Chick back, glaring at Maximo and Kid Lucha. Kid Lucha scoffs while Maximo does a kissy face at Daihm, who scowls.


Maximo Fisico: Perdóname, forgive us, but, I know it may be odd to object to a proposal, whatever this one may be, but my heart just cannot allow me to watch this.


Eryk Masters: I don’t think Maximo was following his ‘heart’ when he came out here.


Other Guy: That belt must have cost him, what, a couple hundred dollars minimum, right?


Maximo Fisico: You see, deep down, in my strong, muscular, damn near immortal beating corazon, I know that this isn’t right. Don’t get me wrong, Chick is a mountain of a man that I’d love to climb.

Fisico licks his lips at Chick. Chick isn’t exactly sure how to respond to this, so he just glares. Daihm, meanwhile, goes to swipe at Fisico only to have him duck and dodge out of the way and wag a finger at Daihm.


Maximo Fisico: Now, now, Daihm. We’re all amigos here. But I thought you and I had an understanding…

Other Guy: Wait… what?

Maximo Fisico: Love? Devotion? COMMITMENT? Mi hermosos, I think we all know that isn’t what any of us actually want. We’re guerreros. We don’t live long enough to love. We live long enough to take.

Kid Lucha: Titles, cash-


Maximo Fisico: Ass-


Kid Lucha: And hope away from these moronic fans who want to watch you two…what? Ride off into the sunset? Sweet little Princess Bride ending? Does that make Daihm Princess Buttercup and Chick Wesley or Fezzik?


Maximo Fisico: I don’t think I’ve seen this movie. Is it good?


Kid Lucha: The best, but let’s not lose focus. 


Maximo Fisico: Si. Si. I know exactly what I’m focused on right now.

Maximo saunters around and lightly traces his arms down Chick’s biceps. Chick steps back while Daihm steps forward and looks ready to punch Fisico. As he goes in for the strike, Lucha steps in between the two and stops Daihm’s fist by grabbing it firmly in his palm.


Kid Lucha: You see… While you two have been making doe eyes at each other, what has been going on? Daihm Ferguson chased Ultimo Muerte to curtain jerking REIGN to…never be booked? And Chick just seems to lose and lose and lose.

Maximo Fisico: I make a reference to REIGN on Spitter and I get to headline it. Not only that, but…


Fisico holds up his Sexiest in SHOOT belt to a chorus of boos as Kid Lucha lets Daihm go and steps backward to join his partner. Daihm looks cautiously at the pair as the crowd erupts into a chant.


STEIN LOOKS BETTER *clap-clap-clapclapclap*


STEIN LOOKS BETTER *clap-clap-clapclapclap*


Maximo looks around the arena. He feigns sadness and runs to the arms of Kid Lucha, who embraces his partner and pats him on the back.


Kid Lucha: There there, no no, you can’t blame them for having no taste. No no.


The two men quickly disengage and high-five dramatically before returning their attention.


Kid Lucha; Anyway, we didn’t just come out here to talk shit and look pretty.


Maximo Fisico: Though we have and we do.


Kid Lucha: So…here’s what we recommend. At the next REVOLUTION, A show, not B show, and definitely not the REIGN F- show, LUCHA FITNESS takes on DAN DRAGON and PROTEIN ROCKCHUD!

The fans roar in approval.


Maximo Fisico: And if we win I get to go on a muey romántica date with…

Fisico, who has been locking eyes with Chick all night, turns sharply in the other direction.

Maximo Fisico: Daihm.


Kid Lucha turns to his partner and looks a little stunned.


Kid Lucha: What? 


Everyone looks utterly confused.


Maximo Fisico: If we win, Daihm has to legally, CONTRACTUALLY go on a date with me.


Eryk Masters: What the hell is even happening right now?


Other Guy: I looked it up, Eryk, there’s a chance that Fisico spent upwards of $600 on that belt. Maybe as low as $250, but it could be up to $600.

Eryk Masters: That’s not what we’re talking about!


Daihm gets flustered as he struggles to find the words. Fisico slides forward, inches away from the Dragon’s face as he leans in and whispers something. Daihm takes a massive step back, shaking his head violently in protest of whatever Fisico said – or proposed.

Chick Grillbreast steps forward, visibly angry as he cuts off the interaction and shoves Fisico backwards, much to the luchador’s surprise.

Chick Grillbreast: LOOK IT YOU PUNY LUCHADORES. I read this pamphlet that says unwanted sexual advances constitute workplace harassment AND IF THERE’S ONE THING I HATE MORE THAN CARBS OR CARDIO, IT’S WORKPLACE HARASSMENT.


Eryk Masters: Wow, shocking.


Other Guy: Yeah, I didn’t think Chick knew how to read either.


Chick Grillbreast: So if you’re going to make my friend Dan Dragon feel uncomfortable right now, I will make both of you skinny DORKS feel uncomfortable ALL THE TIME after I smash you into the kinds of cubes they crush cars into!

The fans explode as Lucha Fitness smile confidently, their challenge now accepted.

Kid Lucha: Be careful, All Natural. After all, my friend here knows all about what it takes to slay a Dragon. Right, Daihm?

Daihm snaps and launches himself at Kid Lucha, but Chick holds him back, eyes searing with fury at Lucha Fitness as the two fighters share a confident fist bump and laugh as the pair remove themselves from the ring with a match and possible date now secured.

Timothy Roy




The sound of steel-on-steel echoes throughout the Epicenter as every screen in the arena jumps to life. As they do, we see home video footage on a shaky cell phone of a little boy running around a wrestling ring, tumbling every which way.

Cut to a shot of a massive hand sliding into a fingerless glove..




The echoing sound continues as more footage plays, we see the same child, older now, jumping rope in a gym, sweat building on his forehead as a camera captures his movements from the ground. Cut to a shot of an arm sliding through a black jacket. Back now to the boy – now a teenager- lifting weights. He looks up to the camera and smiles. Cut to massive black boots being laced up and tightened.





We see the now young adult, a familiar face, standing behind a curtain with anger and determination in his eyes. Back to the close-up shot of a head as gloved hands cover a short mane of bleach blonde hair.


The footage moves in rapid succession now, quick cuts of seemingly countless wrestling matches. Some in big arenas others in dank basements. The final shot is of a young Timothy Roy, perched at the top of a steel cage, eyes wild with vengeance, blood pouring down his face.


We see a sweep of black fabric as a closet door closes, four words clearly visible written in sharpie marker: PROPERTY OF DAMIEN ROY.


The lights cut out, a roar emanating through the crowd as a guitar twang hits the speakers and Darren Korb’s “Spike in a Rail” hits. A spotlight swings and catches a tall figure in black standing at the top of the rampway.

As he looks up we see the smiling face of Timothy Roy under the brim of the black Stetson. As he walks down the rampway, Tim removes his hat and turns to throw it into the crowd! Fans clamor to grab it as he keeps moving, now taking off his gloves, throwing one to his right and then another to his left.

Approaching the ring, Tim finally removes the black coat and walks it over to an eager-eyed tween boy. Tim nods to the boy’s guardian and hands him the jacket before saying something to the kid. He pats him on the head before flashing a thumbs up before turning to size up the barbed wire and explosives just feet away.

Tim closes his eyes for a second but ultimately steps forward, up the steel steps, and into the ring where a snarling Pigpen Matsumoto awaits.

Hello X, Meet the Real X


“Bullet With Butterfly Wings”. 

Smashing Pumpkins.


A giant “X” on the SHOOTron.



The crowd are losing their collective fucking minds as they all realize who it is.









They all wait with anticipation. Signs can be seen in the crowd who were wise to his possible appearance with “X-CAL IS BACK”, “X-TERMINATE ME”, and “TAP OR NAP”.








There’s a large BANG as pyro goes off at the stage entrance. Perfectly timed with the lyrics of the legendary song.


Finally, X-Calibur emerges from Gorilla… in wrestling gear?!


Eryk Masters: Holy. Shit. HE’S ACTUALLY HERE!










X-Calibur closes his eyes and just takes in all the energy from the Epicenter. Looking jacked and in surprisingly great shape for a forty-seven year old veteran of the last twenty-five years, X adjusts his MMA gloves with a hungry look on his face. Running the rest of the way down to the ring, X pops up and races to the corner opposite the entrance ramp where he raises his arms up for everyone to get hyped. 


Eryk Masters: This is EPIC.


Other Guy: Ugh. I hate to admit it since I’m probably the exact opposite of an X-Calibur fan, but this is quite the moment to take in.


Eryk Masters: Damn right it is!


Other Guy: Question, though. Did I miss the memo on X having a match tonight?


Eryk Masters: I’m wondering that myself. After all, he does seem to be dressed for a FIGHT!


After the song dies down, the crowd only amps up their intensity. Chants of all different kinds rule the atmosphere as the Hall of Famer smirks at the reaction he’s getting.


Other Guy: Just when I thought we were DONE with X-Calibur… he shows back up. Jesus. Tenacious, I’ll give him that. 


Hopping down from the turnbuckles, X motions toward the timekeeper’s area for a microphone. 


Eryk Masters: Ohhhhhhh here… we… GO! 


X-Calibur: You thought I was comin’ to ETERNAL just to show my pretty face, huh?! Nah, nah, nah, boys and girls. See, I came for a goddamn FIGHT. 


The audience pops with a very loud “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!


X-Calibur: I’m back, folks. Not at the next Revolution. Not at the next REIGN. Not at the next Ruination. Not even at the next Oblivion fuckin’ reunion show. I’m back… 


…right.. fuckingNOW!


Again, the Epicenter loses their minds! 






X holds the microphone up in the air to capture the excitement throughout the SHOOT Project Faithful. It’s absolutely deafening, to say the least. 


X-Calibur: Oh, it gets better. Trust me. Because THIS? Let’s call this an open challenge. NO… actually? Let’s call THIS an open CONTRACT for someone back there in that locker room to come out here and try’n kick my ass. So come make a name for yourself. If you hate my existence? now’s the time to step up to the FUCKING plate and do something about it. Do somethin’ about it instead of bitching behind the curtain about some old Hall of Fame asshole just showin’ up and stealing your fuckin’ thunder. 


The crowd “OOOOOH’s” momentarily, knowing for sure there are some surly motherfuckers back there who probably don’t appreciate X’s sudden return.


X-Calibur: Or, if you’ve already GOT a name? Let’s make this simple. Let’s have some fantasy fuckin’ warfare and give the people a bonus match to send them home with a memory they’ll never forget!! ‘Cause this is SHOOT Project. Let me just say that again for the people up there in the nosebleeds who flew across the world to witness this show first hand to be a part of history– THIS IS THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ SHOOT PROJECT… AND FOR TWENTY GODDAMN YEARS… THIS IS WHAT I’VE DONE HERE!!! LET’S FUCKING GO!!!


Stepping onto the middle turnbuckle facing the hard cam on the bottom left section of the ring, X raises his hands in the air for the crowd to make some more noise. 


They quickly oblige.






X-Calibur: Hahaha. Y’all never fail to disappoint. 


Pausing for a moment, he looks toward the SHOOTron. 


X-Calibur: Now… if ANYBODY, and I do mean ANYBODY, back there is feeling up to it? Then come to Papa and sign this contract. But just so you know? I ain’t got a pen. So you’re just gonna have to make do… by signing it with your OWN. FUCKIN’. BLOOD.


X drops the microphone and the crowd are on their feet, screaming their lungs out, completely amped for what could be an impromptu match on an already stacked night for ETERNAL.





“Bawitaba” by Kid Rock begins playing through the PA speakers as a fair amount of people in the audience begin to cheer, while the vast majority seem unamused.  Chad Kyle emerges from the curtain with a fist full of sparklers in either hand.  He is dancing to the music, making sure that he twirls the sparklers, making designs in the air from the sparks.  As they burn out, he drops them on the ground, stamping them with his boot to make sure that they are out.


Eryk Masters: He’s like the Candyman of open challenges.  You make one too loud and Chad Kyle is bound to come out.


Other Guy: Well, on the bright side, Chad Kyle knows the gravity of this return, so he’s decided on an entrance to match the importance of this occasion.  I’m honestly surprised he’s not wearing a tuxedo shirt.


Chad Kyle attempts to pander to the crowd on his way down the ramp.  A few people take selfies with him, and a few more slap hands, but most just ignore him on his way down.  Chad doesn’t seem bothered and continues on down the ramp until he gets to the ring.  When he reaches the apron he grabs the bottom rops with both hands and slides under the bottom rope head first on his back.  Once on the mat, he does an attempt at a breakdance maneuver before popping up on both knees, then coming to his feet.


Eryk Masters: Good Lord.  Save us all the trouble here X and just lay him out before he can speak!


Chad looks around for a microphone in his pocket but can’t seem to find one.  He wanders around for a little bit, aimlessly looking for a spare microphone before X-Calibur stops him.  X reaches a second mic out to Chad who thanks him, then moves to the turnbuckle, climbing the second rope to pose.  Just before he can reach the rope, his music cuts off.  Chad, looking awkward, decides against posing and climbs back down and walks towards X.


Chad Kyle: I keep hearing a lot about X-Calibur coming back.  I’m sitting in the back, checking out the catering table, and I just keep hearing “X-Calibur this” and “X-Calibur that.”  So, naturally, I assume that someone is calling me out.  Sorry that it took me so long to get my gear on and get out here.  I mean, I definitely wasn’t going to leave that plate of beer weenies that I had made unattended.  Had to finish.


Eryk Masters: Does he…?  No.  He’s not really going to…


Other Guy: YES!  I’ve been waiting on this for a while now!  


Chad Kyle:  Now, I don’t know who you are.  I’m sure that you’re a fine fellow, and one heck of a wrestler.  I’m sure you’ve come out here to make a name for yourself by challenging the mighty X-Chadlibur.  I hate to be the one to tell you, but I haven’t gone by that name in a loooong while.  I’ve been trying to stick on the straight and narrow.


 X-Calibur looks around at the Epicenter and just scratches his head.


X-Calibur: I… so you’re… 


He stops and looks out at the audience, who begin cheering the idea of X murdering ‘X-Chadlibur’.


X-Calibur: What the FUCK are you talking about?! I mean, if you’re gonna come out here and answer my challenge, then just do it. Don’t fuck around with me, dude. And… seriously? X-Chadlibur is the BEST knockoff name you could come up with?! Bro. You left money on the table with X-Kylebur. Fucking low-hanging fruit, man. It just rolls off the tongue. Imagine the merch! IMAGINE IT!


The audience laughs at this response from X.  Chad, looking frustrated, starts to pace the ring.


Chad Kyle:  First of all, X-Chad is the greatest name of all time.  Secondly, if I was fuckin with you, you’d know it.  I didn’t come down here to accept your challenge.  I came down here to let you know, that there’s only room for one X-Chadlibur in the SHOOT Project.  I don’t know if you know this or not, paps, but you’re just some dude named Grandpappy WhateverTheHellYourNameIs.  I just wanted to save you the embarrassment of coming down here and proclaiming yourself X-Calibur.  You know.  Lawsuits and all of that.


Chad stops directly in front of X, not in an aggressive way, but more waiting on X to reply.


X-Calibur: Listen, you little sue-happy shitmonger, if you didn’t come out here to accept my open challenge, then you’re wasting BOTH our time. I want a fuckin’ referee down here right now! I said I would be coming to ETERNAL. Now I’m here. I said I was issuing an open challenge, and now YOU’RE here. So whether you accept it or not? You’re in my way. Which means you’re in for a world of hurt, you fuckin’ jerk-off little Stan! Now COME ON. LET’S DO THIS!


X starts pacing like a hungry lion, ready to pounce on Chad. 


Eryk Masters: Somebody needs to get Chad out of there! I don’t think he has any idea how serious X is right now.


Other Guy: To be honest, I have to agree with you. X looks bigger and badder than ever before.      


Chad Kyle puts both of his hands up, trying to stop the caged lion in front of him for a moment.


Chad Kyle: Hold up hold up.  Before we start this little impromptu battle.  How about we…make a little wager?


Eryk Masters: This is not going to go too well for Chad, I don’t think.


Other Guy: No, but it’s going to go great for us!


Chad Kyle: I know that we can find some common ground here.  You want to be X-Calibur again, I don’t particularly want to be X-Chadlibur anymore.  How about this.  We don’t have to fight.  I’ll sell you back the rights to the name X-Chadlibur and all of the records and Hall of Fame status that goes along with it.  All I ask in return is….One BILLION DOLLARS!


The fans begin to erupt in laughter.  X does not seem amused, only more incensed by the flippant nature of Chad Kyle. In fact, X looks like he’s going to go for a SHOOT-style takedown, at which Chad’s eyes go wide and he hugs the ropes.


Eryk Masters:  He has to be kidding here.


Other Guy: Chad Kyle is going to die.


Chad, sensing the rage of the man in front of him, begins to plead his case.


Chad Kyle: OK OK OK!  So you don’t want to spend a Billion dollars to be X-Calibur again!  I get it.  You’ve been retired.  Money’s tight.  Whatever the reason is.  How about this?  We have a match.  If you beat me…I’ll sell the name for a case of Monster Energy drink.  The flavor is totally your choice.  Just so long as it’s a whole case.  AAAAAAAAANNND.  You need to recognize that the Democratic People’s Republic of Chad is a Sovereign Nation…


X shakes his head and starts moving towards Chad.  A referee slides into the ring.  Chad furiously moves away from X.


Chad Kyle: OK!  Just the Monster!  FINE!  I’d even accept Rockstar!  It’s a little cheaper!


Chad Kyle sheepishly puts a hand out to X-Calibur, trying to shake on the deal.


X looks out at the audience, who have begun a not-so-little chant throughout the Epicenter!




Eryk Masters: Hahaha. Oh my God. I… don’t know why, but I really REALLY want to see this now.


Other Guy: Get ready for the Match of the Year Winner, folks! That is, you know, if X accepts it and all.


Looking back at Chad’s hand, X’s intense look turns into a smile. Reaching out, he shakes Chad’s hand.


Eryk Masters: Oh, well that went better than I-


X’s smile fades as quickly as it materialized and he pulls Chad into him… FOR A KIMURA LOCK!




The referee yells at X that the match hasn’t started yet, and Chad is SCREAMING bloody murder. Luckily for Chad, X releases the hold after about three or four whole seconds, giving him a taste of what he wants to do to that arm.


Before long, once Chad is standing again, the bell sounds to start the match!


Mushigihara makes his way to his feet as the ref raises his hand in victory.  IAM looks absolutely drained, lying on the mat.  The crowd erupts in respect at the two competitors who went to absolute war with one another.


Eryk Masters: What a match, folks.  These two gave us everything they had just for the pride of competition.  Mushi came out on top tonight, but I think it’s safe to say that anytime these two want to get in the ring again the SHOOT faithful will be absolutely thrilled to see it.


Other Guy: I have to agree, Eryk.  This was one Hell of a….Wait a minute!  What the Hell!


As the referee drops Musihgihara’s hand, he starts to make his way in between the rops when he is absolutely BLASTED in the head with a chairshot from Lucas Sexton!  Mushi falls to the mat like a sack of potatoes as Lucas tosses the chair into the ring and slides under the bottom rope.  He immediately begins to put the boots to the head and torso of Mushigihara.  The crowd begins to shower boo’s down to the ring.


Eryk Masters: What in God’s name are the Sin City Scoundrels doing here?  And what business do they have with Mushigihara?


Michael Sexton slides into the opposite side of the ring and grabs the chair that his brother dropped, ramming it into the legs of Mushigihara.  The referee is trying to restore some form of order, trying to grab the chair from Michael as he draws back for another strike, but he simply pushes him back out of the way.  As the referee falls to the mat, he rolls out of the ring.


Eryk Masters: Someone needs to get out here and put a stop to this before he gets seriously injured.  He’s already been through absolute war with Ignatius Martin.  He can’t even defend himself.


The crowd ERUPTS with cheers as IAM begins to make his way to his feet.  Iggy surveys the surroundings and sees the Sin City Scoundrels, who have now ceased their barrage and turned their attention towards IAM.  The fans begin to chant.






IAM looks up and down both scoundrels, preparing for a fight.


Eryk Masters: Here we go!  Nothing evens the odds quite like a former World Champion, OG!


Other Guy: I’m just glad he was able to get up.  I dodn’t think that he had much of anything left in him!


The crowd continues to cheer as Ignatius leans back into the rope and takes a running start at the Sin City Scoundrels.  He appears to be gearing up for a dual clothesline before he leaps into the air…GUILLOTINE LEG DROP ON MUSHIGIHARA!


The crowd IMMEDIATELY stops chanting as the boo’s begin to shower the ring.  


Eryk Masters: What the?  What the Hell?


Other Guy: Are the Sin City Scoundrels and IAM working together for some reason?


The Sextons and IAM continued to pound on Mushi for a moment while he is down before IAM shoults “PICK HIM UP” to the Sextons.  Michael picks Mushi to his feet and leans him forward onto the chair that Lucas is holding.  IAM drops back a few, surveying Mushigihiara.  IAM takes a running start forward before absolutely LAYING OUT Musihi with an axe kick on the chair, with Lucas dropping the chair, just as IAM’s leg makes contact.  


Other Guy: OH MY GOD!  Mushigihara is out!


Eryk Masters: We need to get help out here and fast.  This is not going to get any better.


The Sextons high five each other in the ring as IAM takes his boot and rolls Mushigihara out of the ring.  The fans are now tossing paper cups into the ring.  Mushi hits the mat outside of the ring with a THUD as medical personnel rush to his aid to get him out of the arena.  The boos from the crowd are almost deafening.


IAM: Why don’t y’all just shut the Hell up for a minute and let me speak.


The crowd does not quiet.


IAM:  I’ve been in SHOOT for a few years now.  I’ve been the nice, dutiful house boy that says “yes sir, no ma’am” and I’ve played by all of your rules.  I’ve done it all the right way.  I’ve trained, I’ve left everything out here on the mat week in and week out.  What has it gotten me?  A joke of a World Title run?  An even bigger joke of an Iron Fist run?  


Eryk Masters: Is he…He knows that is completely his fault right?


IAM: It doesn’t matter how hard I work.  It doesn’t matter how many times I win.  It’s just never good enough.  I’m tired a bein out here on my own every week, grinding it out for you all.  You cheer, then you forget about me as soon as you head back to your cars and out to your pretty suburbs to your perfect families.  Where is Iggy?  IAM back at the hotel, getting ready to get back up in the morning and kill myself in training just so I can come up short.


So I thought to myself.  How are these guys getting ahead of me.  What did Breedlove have that I didn’t?  What does Nate have that I don’t?  The more I thought about it, the more I got to thinkin bout back home.  All those poor fools in the neighborhood that were tryin to go at it alone were always getting hassled by the boys that had the good sense to find themselves a crew.  Breedlove?  He had the Empire.  Nate?  He’s had people behind him the whole way.  I’ve been out here on my own, trying to be to good boy to make the boss’s happy, and all it’s gotten me is some thrown together match on one of the biggest shows of the year.  


Luke and Michael Sexton are both standing behind IAM in the center of the ring, kicking cups away from their feet.  


IAM: So I went out and I found me a crew.  I found a couple of other guys that have been overlooked and forgotten about.  Former champions that had been cast aside as soon as the brass thought they had nothing left to give.  IAM and the Sin City Scoundrels are going to take our rightful places at the top of the SHOOT Project mountain again.  Everyone in the back better take a good long look at that pile of what used to be Mushigihara and recognize that this is a brand new IAM and SCS coming out ta play.  We aint here to shake hands and kiss babies no more.  We here to take over.  And if you want to stand in the way a that, you best be ready to be carted off on a stretcher.


“DNA” By Kendrick Lamar begins to blare over the PA system as al three men begin to make their way out of the ring and back up the ramp.


Eryk Masters: I just can’t believe what I’m seeing here.


Other Guy: Well, You can only push a man so far before he starts to push back.


Eryk Masters: The competition in SHOOT is on another level.  If IAM wasn’t able to get the wins on his own, he has no one to blame but himself.  I don’t seem to remember anyone coming out here and sabotaging this match for him.  He lost this one all on his own.


The fans continue to boo as the Sexton brother’s flip a few birds towards the audience.  All three men disappear through the curtain.

It’s Over

Eryk Masters: And they’ve done it! Miranda DC, with the help of The Anglo Luchador, has gotten payback on Felix Mullen!


Other Guy: How touching. Maybe now she’ll go back to camming?


Eryk Masters: Will you stop it?


As the Luchador and Miranda high five, Felix has finally gotten to his knees after taking the pinfall. He’s staring at his hands, and soon, he interrupts the celebration with a SHRIEK that can be heard in the nosebleeds of the Epicenter without the aid of a microphone. The Luchador, Miranda, Moriton, and the referee all turn around to stare at Mullen.




He points at Miranda.




Miranda DC: Felix, mijo, it’s over.




Miranda DC: You do know what they did to the real last monarchs at Versailles, right?




Felix doesn’t finish his thought and instead lunges at his ex-girlfriend. The attempt is feeble enough that The Luchador is able to stop him dead in his tracks with a palm to his forehead.


TAL: Bud, you need to chill.


The Luchador looks up at Moriton.


TAL: Hey, you, Genghis, can you get your buddy outta here? He’s clearly hysterical.


Moriton’s grasp of English isn’t the best, but he gets the gist. He ambles over with a disinterested look on his face and scoops Felix up onto his shoulders, carrying him out of the ring and to the back as the crowd at the Epicenter sings “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye.”


Eryk Masters: Well, it looks like Miranda can breathe a little more easily and continue her own career here in SHOOT Project.


Other Guy: I wonder if Felix will stick around.


Eryk Masters: I think we know the answer to that. Not sure if we’re that lucky to get rid of him that easily.


Miranda grabs her Sin City Championship from the referee and rises to the second rope, holding it up to roaring approval from the Epicenter while The Anglo Luchador stands off in the background clapping. The camera cuts to the next segment.

Ya Boi’s Condition

Cut to backstage.  Mary Kelly is jogging up the hallway in the depths of the Epicenter and waving the camera along.  She’s anxiously racing.  Where is she going?  That’s answered quickly as they come upon a room where one of The On Godtourage members exits.  For those that don’t know: The On Godtourage is Black Sheep Baez’s crew, his long time friends Georgie and Matty.  In this instance: it’s Georgie Campo, and he doesn’t look happy.  Nah, he’s concerned.  He’s scratching the back of his head.  He’s removed his Mets 59 50 and pulls out his phone.


Mary Kelly: Excuse me, excuse me, but is there any word on the condition of Black Sheep Baez?  


Georgie doesn’t respond immediately.  He’s staring at his phone and slowly shaking his head.  His eyes don’t leave the screen.


Georgie: It ain’t good.


His head slowly pivots so that he’s locked in on Mary.


Georgie: Nah fam.  This shit ain’t good.  Ya boi is fucked up.  Trust that we all got a lot on our mind.  I gots lots a shit to say about what happened.  Ain’t my place.  I’m pissed.  I’m super pissed.  But I’ll let ya boi do the talkin’.  Y’all find out in two weeks when ya boi addresses the bitch ass elephant in the room.  


That’s all he has to say and there’s nothing Mary can do to bring him back.  He walks away while staring at his phone.  She stumbles on a word, as if she was going to try and bring him back to answer another curiosity, but instead stops herself.  Her beautiful, worried face turns to the camera and she nods as we fade out.

Azraith DeMitri

The lights dim slowly but surely into darkness as a staccato snare beat fills the arena.  Across the speakers, just for a second, a John Carpenter-like stinger hits, but then the crowd instantly gets to their feet as words flash in bloody red font across all the screens visible, even the advertising banners across the top box seats.  They flash like strobes along with the beat of the drum.  After a few seconds the crowd caught on.  Everyone in the arena starts saying it at first, a steady chant.


Other Guy: Oh shit…


As the beat gets louder, the lucky few in the front rows, pressed against barriers start slapping them to the beat, the folks behind yelling louder, until the beat and the crowd are one, roaring out like one cacophonous beast.

Rip And Tear!

Rip and Tear!!



The second the last words leave their lips, “The Only Thing They Have to Fear is You” by Mick Gordon SLAMS over the arena’s system.  A hellacious guitar riff married to a near-apocalyptic siren threnody as the screens all change to a slow, horror style drag from left to right of stark red font:




As the music reaches its peak, Azraith steps from behind the curtains and stands at the top of the ramp to a chorus of amped up fans.  He stands there stoically, his eyes intently scanning the crowd before stalking down to the ring.  He takes his time, a steely look of malice and obvious bad intentions being fueled by the chaotic, chanting crowd he stirred up seconds before.  He slides onto the apron and pulls himself up to his feet by grabbing the top rope, then pushing it down ever-so-slightly to step over it, pacing around the ring for just a second before suddenly LUNGING to one of the corners facing the ramp, throwing his arms up and releasing an infernal ROAR, getting the crowd to do the same!


Eryk Masters: Azraith damn near starting a riot tonight here at the Epicenter!


Other Guy:  I know it’s a trope, but he’s genuinely electric.  Every time he comes out he brings a big match feel, and honestly Eryk I don’t know if it gets more “Big Match” than this.


Eryk Masters: Azraith’s hunger for the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship had him effectively get under the skin of our champion, a task I really didn’t think was possible


Other Guy:  I’ve known Azraith a long time and I’ve seen him enforce his will with sheer brutality more often than not…but to just stalk Nate the way he did, nobody saw that coming.  Least of all Nate.


Azraith settles into one of the far corners, falling and sitting down into it as he continues to glare at the ramp.

After the bell, security begins to slowly file in from the production areas, filling in at the barricades–20 individuals in all, including SHOOT Head of Security Lou Grimaldi.  They’re prepared for anything, some even armed with mace in  thigh holsters, but as Azraith is handed the World Heavyweight Championship…Nate Robideau does nothing!

Eryk Masters: Security here in anticipation of Nate Robideau snapping even after a war like that, but…Nate doesnt appear to have any interest in it? 

Other Guy: Biding his time? 

Eryk Masters: Stunned that he finally got his comeuppance? 

The latter seems to be true.  As Azraith raises the title above his head, his eyes never leave Robideau, but Nate isn’t even raising up off of his knees.  He regards the mat, soaking with the blood of his opponent.  He runs his fingers along it, then raises his eyes to the towering form of DeMitri.  There is no rage, no daggers in his vision.  In as much as we have ever seen this from Nate Robideau, his gaze looks remarkably blank.  Slowly, he gets to standing, and it feels like the exhaustion of ages is weighing on him.  He looks tired, maybe for the first time ever. 

Other Guy: I got a bad feeling about this one…

Nate finally walks–more stumbles–toward Azraith, who takes a side stance, preparing for the worst!  The crowd begins to buzz in anticipation…Nate leans forward, his dead eyes meeting Azraith’s wild ones shining through the blood coating his face…Nate turns away!  Nate Robideau walks away from Azraith DeMitri and climbs through the ropes to the floor!!  He begins taking a long walk around the ring itself, the fans jeering him, as DeMitri climbs the turnbuckles, raising his title in triumph!

Other Guy: Can’t believe this, honestly. 

Eryk Masters: I’ve been broadcasting for a while, OG, and you see this time and again: a bully who doesn’t know where to go once he can’t push everyone around like he wants to!  Trust me, Nate Robideau is a cowa–shit!!

As he passes the announce table, either by rage or by hearing Masters’ words, Nate comes across the table and drags Masters towards him by his shirt!!

Other Guy: Oh shit, oh shit!  Nate uh–I’m not a play by play guy, Nate grabbed ‘Ryk Mast and he’s yelling at him!!

As security surrounds the two, we can’t make out what Robideau is saying–but we can very much see as he pushes Eryk Masters off and then LULLABIES him with an unprotected uppercut!!  Eryk’s head SNAPS backwards, his body goes stiff, and he lands HARD with his hands up, though it’s clear nobody is home!  There’s a scary moment where he does not appear to be moving, but finally he blinks, trying to gather his bearings as the security team place themselves in between the announce desk and the former champion–who never once shows one ounce of rage.  Not when he hit Masters, not when he was jawing at him, not as the security crew level spray cans of pepper spray at him in an implicit threat.  His expression never changes. He just…walks off. 

OG has abandoned his headset. 

Nate Robideau is defeated. 

Azraith DeMitri stands triumphant.