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Dan Stein Vs. X-Calibur Vs. Lindsay Troy

The screen fades in from black to reveal a decrepit graveyard, forgotten to both time and it’s caretaker. A mixture of grass and various types of weeds overtake the tombstones that aren’t completely decayed. One could mistake this for an overgrown field if it wasn’t for the towering mausoleum just on the tree line that runs parallel to the most western edge. A pathway barely big enough to accommodate two people connects the entrance of the mausoleum back to the mainroad. Impossible to miss and gravely out of place the marble pillars on each corner of the structure reflect a faint glow from the candles placed on either side of the entryway. A full moon acts almost as a backlight to the shot, creating long shadows from the tombstones. The shot dolleys past the tombstones and up towards the only part of the graveyard lit by man made light, the door of the mausoleum. An ornate steel gate, hugged by the marble entryway, obscures the line of sight just beyond. The gate bursts open, sending a cascade of dirt and dust onto the ground, revealing the inside of the mausoleum. Light hasn’t reached this place in decades, maybe even centuries, until now. Just past the open gate lays a stairwell seemingly descending deeper into the ground. The orange glow of a torch bounces off the walls of the stairwell, revealing a hooded figure in all black. As the hood is pulled back a chrome, faceless, horned mask is revealed.

Omega: I knew he wouldn’t be here. This place is far too gaudy, more fit for a man of god.

The man, now revealed to be Omega, tosses the torch to the ground. It lands at the top of the stairwell and the light reveals another man. A seven foot tall figure, now fully illuminated by the torch, lumbers up the stairs. Barely able to fit between the two walls of the stairwell, he finally reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before glancing at Omega.

Omega: He will not be pleased that we have wasted so much time. The longer it takes for us to find his resting place, the longer it will take him to acclimate. He will struggle to comprehend the world around him at first, so much has changed.

The second man, now revealed to be Alpha, pulls a rag from his pocket and wipes dirt off the front of his mask. He returns his gaze to Omega.

Omega: Of course he won’t understand. It will be a foreign concept at first but given time he will come to see the value of our line of work. After all, what is a Pope without a congregation?

Omega has a smirk on his face but you would never know it.

Omega: Stomp that light out and close the gate behind you. We’ve got a bit of a walk before we return to the truck.

Omega walks out of the gateway, towards and past the camera, leaving Alpha to stomp out the light and bring the scene to a close.

Azraith DeMitri Vs. NC-17 Vs. RAIKO

We see a door backstage to a locker room area, and we hear some distinctive sounds. 

Grunt, rattle, metallic slam. 

Grunt, rattle, metallic slam. 

The camera moves towards the door and pushes it open to reveal a tableau that most would view as at least marginally comical.  Bobson Dugnutt stands in front of a mirror, dousing his massive Guile-meets-Robert Gibson hairdo in a thick cloud of aquanet.  Reclining in a chair, flanked by the massive KIMO and wearing his royal cloak, is Joshua Breedlove—absently scrolling through his phone.  Then the source of the noise is obvious.  Standing, his side part immaculate, his beefy muscles bulging, is Clemson Dean.  He is wearing a weight belt and doing…deadlifts. 

Grunt, rattle, metallic slam. 

Grunt, rattle, metallic slam. 

He finishes and undoes his belt, letting out a sigh, and then nabs a shaker bottle filled with some manner of protein.  Shaking it, he looks to Breedlove. 

Clemson Dean: As Coach used to say, “If the bar ain’t bending, you’re just pretending.”

He pops the top and takes a mighty guzzle.  Breedlove looks up from his phone to respond, but is stopped by the cloud of aquanet, The Hootchie Cootchie Man himself.

Bobson Dugnutt: Oooh come on now, baby!  You know the only way the Big Dog Dugnutt gets prepped for a match is makin’ sure the style is right and the profile is tight!!  Aint gotta mess with all that protein shakes and lifting breaks, daddy!  We taking on three mean customers, two salty hombres and a salty hombrette, a trio of never gonna be’s who are gonna catch the Sweet Sassy train all the way back to Nowheresville!!

Breedlove raises his finger and opens his mouth as if to speak, but is abruptly cut off by the booming laugher of Clemson Dean

Clemson Dean: Ah ha ha!  It’s a rare honor to be standing here where I am, guys.  You work hard every day for your reward, and a lot of folks will tell you that’s the respect of millions, like Mr. Dugnutt here has.  Others might tell you it’s the title belts, like Mr. Breedlove here has.  But the real reward?  Being blessed to even be here, rubbing shoulders with living legends—and Kimo Apana– about to show millions the meaning of both Rising and Grinding and Living Mas. 

Bobson Dugnutt: Them fools ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em, jack!  Im talking the God Emperor of Dune Himself, Josh Breedlove!  I’m talkin’ the McDonalds All American Stud, Clemson Dean!  Im talking the Walking Legend, The Hootchie Cootchie Man, Rock and Roll in bubblegum tights, best skills, best hair, best in the World, Bobson Dugnutt, daddy!  We gonna roll on out, hemi powered in the streets, rack and pinion in them sheets, baby!  Reminds me of one time when I was about to face Cash “Cash Registers” Registers, and he–

Breedlove: Hey, hey! What in the EVER LOVING FUCK is going on around here?! HELLO? The EMPEROR is in your PRESENCE and you two keep running your mouths about I don’t even fucking know what. You’re here because of ME. Dean, make no mistake, I want to see you in the red, black, and gold, but that hasn’t been worked out yet, so DON’T PISS ME OFF. NOW THEN.

He zeroes in on the camera.

Breedlove: I’m glad that the three of you had a fun karaoke get together and had some drinks together, but it’s game time, kids. As my compadre Clemson Dean would say, it’s time to Rise and Grind and LIVE MAS and whatever the fuck else he says. We’ll see you out in the ring, and when the time comes to have some hands raised, it’ll be mine, Mr. Dugnutt, and Mr. Dean’s here.

He scowls.

Breedlove: Now get the fuck out of my face.


The shot cuts to the back, moving to close in on one Azraith DeMitri, who is sitting on the edge of a production dolly and hunched over, breathing heavily and wiping sweat and blood out of his face.  Abigail pauses, letting Azraith see them, and get himself to an upright position with his hair out of his eyes before she closes the final distance.  He nods slightly, in appreciation for the moment of composure. 

Abigail Chase: Azraith, you just had a battle with RAIKO and NC-17, it was incredibly hard fought but you now have two grueling Iron Will matches facing you shortly, how are you feeling right now and do you think you’ll be ready for those matches later tonight?

Azraith: I…uh…

He looks past Abigail a second, and sees a young woman, dressed formally in a clean black dress with red accents.  Bright platinum hair shaved into a clean undercut, the long-edge just cutting to her eyes.  She tries to fight off a look of concern as she flashes her father a huge smile, waving.  The camera crew catches it, and Az nods before looking back to Abigail.

Azraith: I feel like hell, Abigail.  My body feels like it’s fallin’ apart and my mind is just trying to keep up with the fog of adrenaline and dopamine trying to flood my system right now.  I’ve been sitting here the last few minutes just trying to get my heart under control.  So right now?  I feel like I blew myself up out there.

Azraith frowns slightly, looking around again backstage.  He sees so much talent, running their asses off to get to position, getting their gear in order, talking and planning.  He catches a glimpse of a frantic Real Deal, running around and trying to network with three wrestlers at once, also on a walkie talkie.  After one more heavy breath, Az pushes himself to his feet.  One can see his wrapped up ribs, and blood still caking his chest and face.  A grin starts to curve his lips.

Azraith: However bad I feel though, it doesn’t outweigh the pride I feel, being able to stake my claim for those championships.  There’s family relying on me.  Friends.  Fans.  I got people that for whatever fucked up reason look up to me, Ms. Chase, and I’m sure as hell gonna step up for them.  Pain, exhaustion…that’s like air to me.  Y’all know that.  So yeah I feel like shit but the joke is I always do.  Now I feel like shit and have the chance to prove, yet again, that I am the goddamn benchmark for this company.  I might not be the longest running soldier, the most storied or the one with the most unblemished record…

But since my return, more than ANYONE else, I have been a pillar to this company.  Whenever they know they need a banger, I’m there.  Whenever they need stability.  Whenever they need a five star match, I’ve been there.  I go out, I shake hands, I do interviews, I put a face to this company that isn’t psychopathic madman or a group of upstart second generation malcontents.

Az pushes his hair out of his face as his breathing slows, his eyes alight as he finds his rhythm once more.

Azraith:  I’m a beast…a Kaiju that storms these halls, but I’m more than that.  I’m a walking, talking breathing soldier of the SHOOT Project.

I’m it’s fuckin’ Avatar.

I’ll see y’all in the ring.

Az nods to Abagail one more time before stepping into the throngs of people working their way through the arena hallways.  As he moves though, the crowd parts to let him through without shoving.  If Az notices, he doesn’t show it, he simply stalks towards his destination.

Adrian Reyes Vs. Scion Vs. Void

Backstage, though not in a well lit hallway.  Not in front of their banner.  But somewhere in the bowels, the facility, where pipes and cabling run like the nervous system of the building itself.  It’s dark.  The Camera is utilizing its on-board light, casting the pipes and the brick in a Blair Witch-tier sharp relief.  The jangling of chains, the creaking of leather–emerging from the darkness is the massive frame of Power Devil.  He rubs his hands together and steps incredibly close to the camera, speaking in a low rumble. 

Power Devil: Michael.  Lucas.  We know your works.  We know you to be greater than the show you put on. 

He pulls his jacket aside, indicating the still healing scar on his pectoral from their axe ritual in the desert. 

Power Devil: Gaze upon this!!  I will bear this for the rest of my life, a reminder that my comfort cost me something more valuable than having unmarred flesh!!  You are powerful, you are dangerous–can you say you are as committed to this pursuit?!  Does your love of those belts run as deep as bone?!

From behind him steps Superbeast, who walks forward in such a fashion that the cameraman has to back up, taking very close in the frame himself. 

Superbeast: Sextons.  Scoundrels.  We know your style.  We know you to be secretly devastating.  No others will give you this credit, but we know. 

He pulls back his lapel with a clanking rattle, revealing his own scar. 

Superbeast: Take it in!!  Scarred for my hubris, for my weakness!!  There is nothing you can say that will make me feel more pain than I caused myself, because I do not take my failure in stride!  I take this seriously–we both do!!  We are brothers forged in cauldrons of blood and pain!  Can you say the same?!  Can you say your bond is so strong?!

Power Devil: Scoundrels!!

Superbeast: Sextons!!

Power Devil: Bastards of the Empire!!

Superbeast: You are the kings of this division!  Has your reign been fruitful?!  Can you call yourselves proud?!

Power Devil steps forward, growling.

Power Devil: You are the emperors of tag wrestling, high in your tower!!  It has been safe and comfortable, hasn’t it?  But now you must sink into the mire, step upon the muddy battlefield, and trade blood and blows with the very Demons of Cyber Roppongi–two hellbeasts who have thought of nothing since their defeat except the very day that we could break you to component parts and reclaim what is rightfully ours!!

Superbeast screams from behind him, and now both men fill up the boiler room hallway, shoulder to shoulder. 

Superbeast: Come to the muck and find out what you are made of!!  Our armor bears the dings and bloodstains of countless battles, yet you arrive with your tabards colorful and your breastplates gleaming!!  Prove that you are worthy of what you bear!!  Prove it or suffer defeat at the hands of the Unholy Cyber Army!!

There is a moment, if brief, where both men breathe heavily.  Power Devil looks to the ground, instantly somber, his voice soft at first but ratcheting in intensity to his trademark barking howl. 

Power Devil: Death will claim us all.  And when you stand before the scales, do you want to be known as true champions?  Or do you want to be known as Joshua Breedlove’s court jesters?!

Superbeast: The Reaper rides for your reign as champions!  There will be no escape and you will find no respite, no mercy save for the mercy of a thorough defeat!!  You will suffer, you will scream, you will lose those titles–and you will be left Bowed!

Power Devil:

Unison: BROKEN!!

With that, the men bash their heads together, howl, and shove past the camera, which turns to watch them leave, stomping closer and closer to the well lit hallways and their match for the titles.  

Arthur Pleasant & Yuri Reznikov Vs. Lindsay Troy & Teddy Palmer

Right after the bell rings on the victors, Lindsay Troy and Teddy Palmer, red and yellow lights shine out over the audience and the PA explodes! 


The GIANT enforcer of the Holy Breedlove Empire, KIMO, walks out from the curtain and starts making a very measured walk to the ring. Pleasant and Yuri have made their way away from the ring, with Troy and Palmer both down and exhausted from the match. 

Eryk Masters: What the hell is this big motherfucker doing out here?! 

Other Guy: He’s definitely not booked, but if you look in his eyes, you see nothing but malice and bad intentions. 

KIMO makes it to the ring and rolls under the bottom rope. He walks over to Lindsay Troy, squats down, and wags his finger in her face, then stands back up and walks over to Teddy Palmer and pulls him up to his feet with both hands gripped tightly around Palmer’s neck. KIMO shoves Palmer hard into a turnbuckle, you can hear an audible thud, and Teddy slumps over, only staying upright by leaning on the top rope. 

Other Guy: Did KIMO and Palmer have any business that you were aware of? 

Eryk Masters: No, this seems completely out of nowhere. 

Other Guy: What about Breedlove? 

Eryk Masters: I mean, everyone hates Breedlove, so it wouldn’t have shocked me if someone came out to attack HIM, but that’s not what this is. 

KIMO takes several steps back and runs HARD into Palmer with a clubbing lariat across Palmer’s chest. Palmer stumbles forward, KIMO kicks him in the midsection and hoists him up before spiking him into the mat with a DEVASTATING powerbomb. Palmer doesn’t even try to get to his feet, he just lays on the mat with his eyes open, breathing in and out, unsure what exactly just happened to him as the crowd boos the Empire’s Monster. 

Eryk Masters: KIMO just destroyed Palmer, what the hell! And now he’s LEAVING?! 

Other Guy: Yeah, what a weird series of events. He just came out here, it seemed like he warned Lindsay Troy, and then just dunked Teddy Palmer for no reason. 

Eryk Masters: He didn’t even ask for a mic, did he? 

Other Guy: He did not. 

Satisfied with his work, KIMO walks to the other side of the ring and falls to his back, rolling right back out, with “Bad Man” playing his way. 

Eryk Masters: I don’t know what to make of that, and I hope Teddy Palmer’s okay…

Other Guy: Make no mistake about it, Teddy Palmer is tough as nails. You saw that in the last match with Reznikov and Pleasant. That guy can take a beating and he can dish one out. He’s definitely going to be okay. 

Eryk Masters: That’s a good call. As we move through the night, we’ve already seen Dan Stein, Scion, and Azraith DeMitri make it through their respective qualifiers, so they’ll be in tonight’s double main event. But! Before we can get to that, we’re getting ready to see Courtney Hatchett defend her Shut Up and Fight Championship against Dr. Ned Reform, and that match is NEXT! 

Other Guy: Worth mentioning, Reform has said that if he loses this match, he will walk away from the SHOOT Project… forever.

We’re backstage where SHOOT interviewer Abigail Chase walks through the arena hallway with a microphone in hand. She approaches a door to a locker room, and while we can’t see inside the door, we can hear Ned Reform’s voice shouting from inside…

Ned Reform: FLIGHT DELAYED!?! What do you mean…. Hahn, Hahn… slow down.

We hear more discussion. Abigail Chase looks into the camera, intrigued by this beyond-the-scenes scoop. Finally, the door swings open, and Ned Reform emerges dressed for combat… and appealing infinitely stressed.

Abigail Chase: Ned…

Reform snaps his head toward her, snarling.


Abigail Chase: Doctor… what’s going on?

Ned Reform: What’s going on? WHAT’S GOING ON? You silly little girl… TA Han… my disciple… my student… my instrument of destruction… is not here tonight.

Reform actually looks like he’s holding back tears.

Ned Reform: I put my career on the line, Abigail. I said…

Reform trails off. His face hardens.

Ned Reform: No matter. We soldier on. And we do what we do best.

Reform places a hand on her shoulder before moving out of frame with a look that is half determination/half worry.

Dr. Ned Reform Vs. Courtney Hatchett (c)

In the ring, Ned Reform slowly sits up. He shakes the cobwebs from his head and begins to look around…

…and then it dawns on him.

A look of absolute horror washes over his face and he grasps both sides of his bald head with either hand. The crowd, meanwhile, begins to sing a song. It starts off softly, but slowly begins to grow in volume until the entire area is signing…




Reform looks from left to right, crowing incensed by the chant. He rolls out of the ring and gets into the face of some fans in the front row.

Ned Reform: People like YOU don’t mock people LIKE me. I tried to teach you!! I wanted to teach YOU!!!

The crowd continues to sing as Reform keeps looking around, unable to escape the crowd’s tauntings. Throwing his hands up to cover his ears, he runs up the SHOOT ramp toward the back. Before he heads through the curtain, he stops. Maybe it’s dawning on him that this is it and he’ll never be back. He lowers his hands and turns back toward the crowd. He motions to the back and a stagehand appears to hand him a mic. He holds up a hand, asking the crowd to stop their singing so he can make his final statement.

Ned Reform: Ladies and gentleman… at times like this, I think it’s important to say…




Ned Reform: Wait! I understand that we didn’t always….









Throwing the mic to the ground, Reform stomps back through the curtain for the last time. The fans break into applause. 

Abigail Chase: Abigail Chase here catching up with the one and only Joshua Breedlove, right before the six man Sin City Championship Series Showdown… that’s a mouthful… at least, trying to. Josh! JOSH! 

Finally, Joshua Breedlove stops, glaring at Abigail Chase. 

Joshua Breedlove: WHAT do you want, Chase?! I’m on my way to the ring literally right fucking now to carry this company on my back SOME MORE… and you’re INTERRUPTING ME.

Abigail cocks her head to the side and basically just ignores what she just heard. 

Abigail Chase: Right well, I just wanted to get your thoughts on what happened earlier tonight. 

Breedlove furrows his eyebrows.

Joshua Breedlove: What do you mean what happened earlier tonight?! I’ve been with these two clowns all night getting ready for this thing. 

Abigail Chase: Oh, I assume you must have known about KIMO. 

Joshua Breedlove: Lemme ask you a question, Abby. 

Abigail Chase: Go for it.

Breedlove inhales.

Joshua Breedlove: I don’t know why in the fucking world you’re making these weird, vague broken statements about “earlier tonight” and “KIMO”. Why don’t you just come out and ask me what you want to ask me so that I can walk through that curtain and exert my dominance. Hmm?! PLEASE?!

Abigail sarcastically smiles and nods.

Abigail Chase: KIMO went out after Lindsay Troy and Teddy Palmer finished their match, put his finger in Troy’s face, and then just absolutely decimated Teddy Palmer in the middle of the ring. Nobody has any idea why he might have done that, so naturally they think you must have had something to do with it. So, Mr. Breedlove…

Breedlove sucks air through his teeth. 

Joshua Breedlove: Ms. Chase…

Abigail Chase: Do you have anything to do with the attack by KIMO, a member of the Holy Breedlove Empire, on one Teddy Palmer? 

Breedlove sighs. 

Joshua Breedlove: I have no idea who Teddy Palmer is. 

He smiles.

Joshua Breedlove: Now goodbye! 

Back at the ring, Eryk Masters and Other Guy’s face tell a story.

Eryk Masters: So he totally knows about the attack and for sure knows who Teddy Palmer is.

Other Guy: No I don’t think so. I mean, I take him at his word. 

Eryk Masters: I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that. Breedlove, Dugnutt, and Dean take on Cassidy, Ames, and Paulton NEXT!

Joshua Breedlove, Clemson Dean, Bobson Dugnutt Vs. Pat Cassidy, Teresa Ames, Kayden Paulton

Backstage, decked in a smart Brooks Brothers women’s suit, stands Samanatha Coil–SHOOT’s resident backstage interviewer.  Though by no means short, she is flanked by two men who positively dwarf her.  Standing in a hooded sweatshirt bearing the logo of his fight gym is “Blackhawk” Nate Robideau, shouldering the gleaming Iron Fist Championship.  On her opposite side, jeans and a “Bad Ass Brotherhood” shirt, World Heavyweight Championship adorning his shoulder: Buck Dresden.  Both men bear soft smiles, but their eyes tell a different story.  One of dread.

Samantha Coil: Good evening SHOOT Project Faithful and what an evening it has been so far!  We still have incredible action coming up, all to be capped off by the first ever Iron Will Classic!!  The qualifiers are over and the bells have rang, and the lineup has been set: Dan Stein, Scion, and Azraith DeMitri have won, and they’ll be facing you two later tonight!  I have to ask, are these the competitors you were hoping would make it?

Nate shakes his head, chuckling slightly. 

Robideau: I cannot say that I had a hard preference for anyone in particular, but I was glad to see Azraith advance.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m owed at least a few after the stomping I gave him–it’s going to be nice to give him the opportunity to set those scales back to even.  

Buck:  Samantha…

She turns her attention to Buck, aiming her microphone to the World Champion.

Buck:  …all respect in the world to Void, Avarice, X-Calibur, NC-17, RAIKO, an’ Lindsay Troy.  They deserve every last bit of respect for even gettin’ in the qualifiers to begin with.  Azraith DeMitri an’ Dan Stein have been World Champions.  They know the pressure.  They get the tension.  They’ve held everything you pretty much need to hold in this business.  They know the weight of this here belt an’ Nate’s, too.  Scion?  Well, I’m sure he heard the stories from Pop Pop about it.

He smirks at the light jab he sends Johnson’s way.

Buck:  But these are three men that more’n belong.  Nate, these boys are hungry.  Very damn hungry.  That first match, you get put down, you walk out with nothin’.  Second match, I get put down an’ I walk out with nothin’.  But make no mistake, Samantha, Nate ‘n’ me ain’t here to hold hands an’ defend our thrones.  Naw, we’re here to try’n survive against the risin’ tide an’ either remain champions of our divisions…

He looks at the Iron Fist Championship on Nate’s shoulder.

Buck:  …or see how somethin’ new might feel.

At this, Nate rolls his shoulders subtly and leans in.  He and Buck hold eye contact, though there’s no menace between them.  It’s deeper than that.  It’s like they’re already having a match, right behind their fields of vision.  After a long moment, he speaks. 

Robideau: You are right, Buck.  This, us speaking together here, is not a declaration of our unity.  The bell rings and it is exactly what has been advertised: Every man for themselves, winner take all, immortal glory or nothing to show for it.  And I do not pretend to speak for Buck here, but strangely, I feel no anxiousness.  No fear.  Heart rate steady. 

He grins easily.

Robideau: I have watched tape, hours of it, of every one of these qualifiers to make sure I was more ready than any other.  I have had an up close view of how Dan Stein can operate, and he was a tough enough competitor back when his entire life was a long party.  Now that he’s playing for keeps, that makes him twice as dangerous, really.  Scion is…

Nate looks down and laughs, then back up. 

Robideau: …well, he’s a hack of a lot younger than I am and a damn sight faster, too.  If he earns either of these belts–and make no mistake, it will be something earned–his future is made.  If he somehow gets them both, he’s a legend barely out of short pants.  And Azraith, well.  

Buck: No nerves about Azraith?  C’mon. 

Robideau: No, no nerves.  Nerves are part of the fear of the unknown, man.  And I know precisely what Azraith is going to do to me the second I am in his sights after that bell rings.  He’s going to try and tear me apart and make me bleed. 

A pause. 

Robideau: Try.  

Samantha Coil:  Buck, any final thoughts about the Iron Will Classic tonight?

Buck ponders for a few moments and then looks at Nate.

Buck:  I ain’t never had nothin’ but respect for you, Nate.  No matter what side of the aisle you’n me are on, it ain’t ever been nothin’ but respect.  Tonight’s all about that for a damn change for me.  I respect all of these guys.  No matter what happens tonight, I’m ready.

Buck holds his fist to Blackhawk.

Buck:  Good luck, champ.

Nate holds out his, and their knuckles meet. 

Robideau: May the best man win.  Twice. 

With that, they smile and the dap breaks.  They head off in opposite directions down the hallway, strides confident, as if the gravity of what they’re about to engage in doesn’t weigh them down.  Samantha Coil addresses the camera after taking a moment to watch them both. 

Samantha Coil: Tonight it sounds like brutality and respect are going to be the name of the game for the Iron Will Classic.  Strong words from our World and Iron Fist Champions–who come into this match with a distinct advantage: they’ll be fresh, and their opponents have already been through Hell.  It’s going to be exciting to see how that plays out!  Eryk, OG, back to you!!

Unholy Cyber Army Vs. Sin City Scoundrels (c)

Eryk Masters: Oh man, OG. It’s almost time. The IRON WILL CLASSIC is HERE. These two matches? They’re going to be FIERY. You’ve got a murderers row of competitors with all kinds of experience in these situations, save for one. You think Scion has a chance here?

Other Guy: I don’t want to just flat rule him out because that seems condescending, but I think a lot of things are going to have to go the right way for him to have a shot like that.

The crowd starts chanting IRON WILL while the ring is getting cleaned up from the tag team championship match.

Eryk Masters: They’re saying it all right now, we’re just as excited as everyone else is to see how this is going to shake out. Some BIG CHANGES could be in store for the SHOOT Project.

Other Guy: What about the possibility that we could see a double champion?

Eryk Masters: I think there are only three people in this match with the potential to attain that particular goal, and that’s Azraith DeMitri, Buck Dresden, and Nate Robideau. Outside shot with Dan Stein, but I don’t think Scion comes anywhere close to that.

“Iron Will” by Kataklysm hits the PA and the crowd comes alive!

Other Guy: Looks like we’re about to get this show on the road!

Eryk Masters: You got that right! The Iron Fist Championship match is coming up next!

Scion Vs. Dan Stein Vs. Azraith DeMitri Vs. Buck Dresden Vs. Nate Robideau (c)

Other Guy: Holy SHIT. Azraith DeMitri wins the Iron Fist championship in a DOMINANT fashion. I can’t believe that!

Eryk Masters: Not just that, but Robideau and Buck both went out SO early in this match. I couldn’t believe that either. You think that they were trying to save themselves for the World Championship match?

Other Guy: I think anything is possible, but it’s really hard to say. I think that kind of thing is such a serious gamble that it would be almost impossible to pull off, no matter what, but Robideau and Buck are both SO smart that it’s definitely possible.

Eryk Masters: You think that’s disrespectful to the Iron Fist Championship?

Other Guy: Not at all. Like, I don’t think those guys threw those matches at all and if they were in a position to win, they would have absolutely gone for it, but if you find yourself in serious trouble early on and you’ve got another match like this coming up? I mean, if it were me… I’d look at the long game, personally.

Eryk Masters: Yeah that’s a good point. To me, it’s an anything can happen scenario, and this is Vegas, so you play the odds. If you’re in trouble early on, why potentially ruin your shot later?

Other Guy: Exactly. With that in mind, our World Heavyweight Championship match is NEXT.

Scion Vs. Dan Stein Vs. Azraith DeMitri Vs. Nate Robideau Vs. Buck Dresden (c)