No entrance, no music–when we cut to the ring, Nate Robideau is already there.  Wearing his standard outfit–expensive athletic wear, pricey shoes, and a five figure watch–he hasn’t bothered to clean up much, from what we can see.  He’s still rocking a four-day beard, he still looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.  He also looks sad, and though the crowd is burying him in boos, one gets the sense that his frown isnt due to that.  He waits until the hatred dies down to a manageable level, then calmly speaks into the mic–and his tone seems…less boisterous.  Not meant to scare an opponent.  Unprideful.    

Robideau: I know you all dislike me.  I’m not here to change that. 

The crowd responds in the affirmative with a shower of fresh boos. 

Robideau: Burn I am here to speak honestly.  To speak clearly. 

Pacing, he lets the noise die down to a manageable level. 

Robideau: You folks have to understand…I was a kid on the Rez.  Dad wasn’t around, grew up poor as hell.  And that’s not me asking for your fucking sympathy.  But you have to understand how low I was even before I spent time on an all-expenses paid vacation courtesy of the State of Nevada.  After that?  After that, I didn’t know if there would be much I could do to make a life for myself. 

He goes to the side of the ring facing the entrance, leaning on the ropes. 

Robideau: A lot of thanks needs to be put toward Josh Johnson and the management here.  I know I’ve had some clashes with the front office–some that ended bloody.  But they took a chance on a convict who was honestly too old and had zero rep. 

Eryk Masters: I’m not sure where he’s going with this. 

Other Guy: I don’t like it, I’ll say that. 

Robideau: I achieved here.  Built a legacy here.  I made it to the top of the mountain and I stayed there.  No fluke.  I won’t go down as one of the greats, and that’s okay with me.  That’s just a pure ego stroke.  But I achieved it.  I held it.  And I didnt lose it in a flash circumstance, either.  I lost it to a legitimate legend who just plain beat me.  No excuses, no rage, no need to call him out or attack his family.  Azraith beat me, and Azraith deserved to. 

He paces back to the center of the ring, chuckling.  Unable to resist. 

Robideau: After all, not like there were many others who could have taken me down.  I made sure of that. 

Eryk Masters: Can’t help himself. 

Other Guy: He’s also not wrong. 

Robideau: Look, I’ve never been one to talk when I didn’t have something to say.  I’ve achieved what I wanted to in this company.  I’m older now, I’m tired, I have a successful gym and a new generation of stars to help cultivate.  I’ve got so many long-term nagging minor injuries that I sometimes get surprised when I’m reminded about them.  And above everything else, I don’t want to be what I accused Azraith DeMitri of being.  There’s nothing worse than when a guy starts declining and can’t accept the truth of it.  So I’m taking that possibility off the table. 

He sighs, looking to the mat.  There’s a long moment of silence, here, and we can see him chewing his bottom lip before finally nodding. 

Robideau: I’m retiring.  Effective immediately. 

Bombshell.  The crowd erupts–boos, just plain screams, confusion.  Pandemonium.  He shakes his head, taking a tight pace. 

Eryk Masters: What?!

Other Guy: No!

Eryk Masters: Folks, this is a massive surprise–Robideau pacing the ring, clearly at least somewhat at peace with the decision, but just…wow!

Other Guy: No one has meant more to this sport–

Eryk Masters: Okay, chill.

Nate takes a long moment to let the confused reaction of the crowd die down.  It’s not hard to guess why there might be4 mixed emotions–though he’s a notable bastard, by his own admission, he’s also been an integral part of SHOOT since the rebirth.  There are even a small smattering of fans chanting his name, which he notices and waves off. 

Robideau: No, no.  This isn’t me trying to get back into your good graces so I can enjoy retirement with a clear conscience.  This is me just telling you like it is.  It’s been a wonderful, beautiful, enraging, gratifying, hellacious, awe-inspiring ride.  I can’t put it better than that, and I can’t ask for more than that.  What I’ve always said is–

“Make Way for the King” hits, and Josh Breedlove doesn’t even wait to soak in the eruption of adulation from the fans!  He jogs briskly down the ramp, his brow furrowed in confusion.  Sliding into the ring, his body is coiled for a fight…until he realizes Nate is leaning in the far corner, not even pretending like he’s got bad intent.  He’s just…letting him in. 

Eryk Masters: Joshua Breedlove is here, seeking…a fight?  Understanding?

Other Guy: Clarity, I think.  This news has thrown all of us for a loop!

Breedlove begins to pace, arms crossed.  Nate chuckles and brings the mic up. 

Robideau: I know it’s hard to believe, Josh, but it’s true.  I’m just…washed, man.  And I know it.  And if I push myself, make a big to do about trying to beat you again?  Maybe I win.  Maybe I fuck you up good.  But you know what’s just as likely an outcome, maybe even more likely an outcome?  Win or loss, I end up hurting something really, really badly.  You can only bend something so many times before it inevitably breaks, right? 

He shrugs. 

Robideau: I’m doing this on my terms, before a freak accident or someone like you has a chance to make the decision for me. 

Breedlove shakes his head, laughing.  Maybe he thinks it’s going to bait him, but Nate does nothing.  Finally, smirking, he speaks again. 

Robideau: You want this, man?  I’m sure it’s gotta be grinding your gears to not talk shit about me. 

With that, he tosses the microphone to Josh Breedlove, who catches it easily. 

Joshua Breedlove: I’m not even sure I want to talk shit, Nate. I’m mad, yeah. I really wanted to get back at you for taking a year of my career away. I really wanted to do this dance, take everything, stand tall, all that. I fully intended to make that decision for you. 

Breedlove pauses, considering his next set of words very carefully.

Joshua Breedlove: There’s a part of me that wants to call you a coward, trash you for taking the easy way out, but then there’s the angel on my shoulder telling me to just let it go. Just let you be you, get you out of SHOOT, give you the flowers you earned, because the reality of it is that you did work here, Nate. You changed the SHOOT Project culture by doing what you do. You gave idealistic kids a chance to work hard and earn a spot.

He shakes his head, the crowd only murmuring at what they’re hearing, hardly reacting at all.

Joshua Breedlove: So for as much of a garbage human as I think you are, and for me trying to be better about… just being me… I think I have to let this go. I have to congratulate you on a career well fought, and that’ll have to be that. 

Breedlove sighs, pulls the microphone away from his face, looks at it for a brief moment and then hands it back to Nate Robideau, who takes it back from him.

Robideau: Josh, I’d never thought I’d be saying this, but thank you.  You’re a bastard, but thank you. 

With a smile, he extends a hand.  The crowd buzzes, but Breedlove waves them off before making a bit of a production out of shaking Nate’s hand.  

Robideau: I won’t ever say the better man won, but you weren’t wrong.  The Nate Robideau era is over. 

He releases the handshake and turns to leave

Then he twists. 

Dropping his body low, a coiled snake.  His leg follows…Nate Robideau kicks Josh Breedlove in the side of the knee so hard he damn near cartwheels, landing awkwardly on his head and left shoulder!!

Eryk Masters: Oh, come on!

Other Guy: He’s on his way out, let him have the exclamation point!

Nate doesn’t even consider letting up, pouncing on the obviously surprised Breedlove and burying knee strikes into his head!  Josh covers as best he can, but Nate is approaching a speed and a fury not seen in some time, transitioning from knees to 12-to-6 elbows before BRUTALLY hammer fisting Josh Breedlove in the face, over and over!! 

Eryk Masters: There’s exclamation points and then there’s sadism!  Let him go!!

The Blackhawk grabs Breedlove’s arm and neck, wrapping him up in an arm triangle choke and rearing back on it!  Breedlove’s face is already bloody, his nose clearly pouring out over his mouth, as he struggles to get air with his neck pinned to his shoulder by the mammoth arms of Nate Robideau!  Veins begin showing on Josh’s beet-red face as his eyes tear up, and he begins weakly flailing his free arm, tapping to signify that he’s giving up–but there’s no referee to stop things!  Finally, the tapping gets weaker…and weaker…until there’s nothing left. 

Joshua Breedlove goes limp.

Nate stands, brushing himself off, and snatches the microphone from the canvas.  Casually, he spits on the mat, laughing. 

Robideau: I don’t know what’s funnier, Joshie: seeing you trying to regain consciousness, or the fact that you actually thought I was going to let you get away with disrespecting me. 

He crouches, looking closely at him.

Robideau: You think you can attack me?  Insult me?  Poach my fucking students, you swine?  You?!  See, I know you, Josh.  I know what a piece of shit you are.  I know that Burkhalter just needs to call any of the dozens of careers you’ve ruined in your vampiric quest to make sure that everyone remembers Josh Breedlove. 

He grabs Breedlove under his arms and, with a grunt, hauls him to uneasy, dangling feet.  With a little effort, he gets him situated in the corner, arms draped over the ropes to hold him up. 

Robideau: There you go, stay right there for a minute.  Johnson boys, I know you’re in the back!  Is this your savior?! 

He rears back and lets off an absolute shotgun blast of a hook into Breedloves ribs!! 

Robideau: You sycophants in the audience…is this your king?!

Nate collars Breedlove around the back of his neck and elbows him so hard in the face the blood from his nose mists!  The crowd starts to break into excited cheers, however–as Jamie and Jack Johnson have made their way from the back, intent on putting a stop to this!

Eryk Masters: Finally–I mean he did call them out!

Nate notices this, sneers, and drops the mic, immediately roping Breedlove into a tightly torqued kimura lock!  Though he’s no longer speaking into a microphone, the parabolics on the camera pick up what he’s saying quite clearly, and it’s making the Johnson’s pause their approach. 

“Take one fuckin’ step closer!  You think I won’t snap him in two?!”

Suddenly, from the back, come the Blackhawk Fight Gym students!!  Joey ‘Golden’ Burkhalter and Izzy Sia sprint out and circle around the would-be interlopers, placing themselves in between them and the ring!!

Other Guy: I’d say they’re evenly matched, but Nate has beat Josh Breedlove half unconscious at this point!

Eryk Masters: I think it’s sick what Nate’s doing, this has to count as poisoning the youth of this city!

Other Guy: Poisoning them with what, ‘Ryk? Success?

His safety secured, Nate drops Breedlove, who lands like a sack of bricks.  He crouches once more, grabbing the microphone, and starts lightly slapping Josh in the face to rouse him.  Trash is flying into the ring.  When Breedlove finally opens his eyes and starts blinking, bell more than thoroughly rung, Nate begins to speak.

Robideau: I didn’t lie about one thing.  The Nate Robideau Era is over.

He drags one of his massive sledgehammer hands across Breedlove’s bleeding visage.  He drags the bloody hand across his own face, like war paint. 

Robideau: Right after I put you away for good. 

With that, Nate tosses the mic and slides from the ring.  He casually approaches his students, absolutely beaming, his face covered in streaks of blood.  There’s a long moment where Jamie and Jack Johnson seem intent on blocking the Blackhawk contingent’s exit, but none of the gym are backing down–Nate is elated, Burkhalter is unwavering, and Sia is practically begging them to start something with her.  Finally, cooler heads prevail, and the two teams pass one another with a heavy amount of jawing.  Nate and his students stride to the back, all smiles. 

Jamie and Jack rush to the ring to check on Breedlove.