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Revolution 202

The camera pans over a raucous crowd, capturing the energy of the arena before focusing on the Revolution logo, then zooming in on the announce table with Jason Johnson and Eryk Masters.


Jason Johnson: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Revolution! I’m Jason Johnson, here with the ever-insightful Eryk Masters, and tonight, we’ve got a lineup that’s going to set the wrestling world ablaze!


Eryk Masters: You said it, Jason! Our main event is a high-stakes clash between two of the fiercest World title contenders in the game – Joshua Breedlove and Laura Seton. It’s not just a match; it’s a statement for the future of the World title!


Jason Johnson: Both Breedlove and Seton have been formidable, Eryk. Breedlove’s charisma and skill in the ring have been unmatched, while Seton’s resilience and determination has solidified her legendary status. This is more than just a match; it’s a battle for supremacy.


Eryk Masters: And speaking of battles, we’ve got a tag team match that’s sure to be a highlight of the night. The Kings of the Wild Frontier are set to face off against Furia Inviernal. It’s a classic showdown between raw power and technical prowess.


Jason Johnson: Both teams have been climbing the ranks rapidly, Eryk. The Kings of the Wild Frontier bring a rough-and-tumble style that’s hard to match, while Furia Inviernal’s speed and agility make them a formidable opponent. This match could very well steal the show.


Eryk Masters: But let’s not forget the ongoing conflict that’s been captivating everyone – Elijah Cassius Starborne and Archer Quincannon. These two have been in each other’s orbit for two shows now, and tonight, we might finally see some fireworks after Quincannon was attacked at Ruination.


Jason Johnson: Starborne’s celestial approach has been a stark contrast to Quincannon’s whole vibe. It’s a clash of ideologies, Eryk, and one that’s been building to a fever pitch. Tonight, we might just see the next chapter in their budding rivalry.


Eryk Masters: With a main event that could shake the foundations of the World title picture, a tag team match that’s a clash of styles, and a rivalry that’s as personal as it gets, Revolution is the only place to be tonight. So sit back, relax, and get ready for a night of non-stop action!


The camera zooms out, capturing the crowd’s excitement, as the show transitions into its first segment.



Singles Match



The wrestling ring, bathed in a soft, otherworldly light. The arena is buzzing with anticipation. Elijah Cassius Starborne stands alone in the center, a microphone in hand. His expression is calm, but his eyes betray a storm of emotions.


Jason Johnson: I dunno what this guy’s story is, but he’s certainly working on making an impact here. 


Eryk Masters: Yeah, any idea where he came from?


Jason Johnson: Nah, but I’ll be real with you, E, I don’t care where he came from. He’s got people talking. Let’s hear what he has to say.


Elijah’s gaze sweeps over the crowd, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of intensity.


Elijah Cassius Starborne: The cosmos works in mysterious ways, its will unfathomable to the unenlightened. Archer Quincannon, a warrior of great prowess, has unfortunately strayed from the path of cosmic truth. His resistance to the enlightenment offered by The Celestial Order is… disappointing, yet illuminating.


Elijah paces the ring, his words deliberate and measured.


Elijah: Archer’s defiance, his blind refusal to accept the higher calling, is a challenge to the celestial balance itself. It’s a rebellion not against me, but against the very stars that guide our destinies. However, the cosmos is patient, and so am I. If Archer Quincannon will not willingly walk the path of enlightenment, then it is my duty, my burden, to guide him there by any means necessary.


Elijah stops pacing, his eyes narrowing slightly.


Elijah: Archer, you have made it clear that you wish to engage in physical combat, to resolve our differences in the ring. So be it. I am not merely a harbinger of cosmic wisdom, but a warrior in my own right. If a fight is what you seek, then a fight you shall have. But understand this – it is not just your body that will be tested, but your very soul.


Elijah’s voice grows more intense, yet he maintains his composure.


Elijah: You may come at me with fists of fury, with all the rage and strength of a mortal man, but I… I fight with the force of the cosmos behind me. And in the end, you will see the truth. You will understand that enlightenment is not a choice, but a destiny. And if I must drag you, kicking and screaming, into the light of the stars, then so be it.


Elijah raises his arms, as if drawing energy from the heavens above.


Elijah: The Celestial Order stands resolute. The path to enlightenment remains open, but for those who resist, the journey will be tumultuous. Archer Quincannon, your reckoning awaits. The stars have decreed it, and it shall be done.


Elijah lowers his arms, his eyes blazing with a mix of rage and purpose. The segment ends with him standing dominant in the ring, the crowd reacting with a mix of awe and apprehension at the impending showdown.


Jason Johnson: Fuck yeah man, I’m here for this. 


Eryk Masters: You joining the Celestial Order? 


Jason Johnson: Fuck no man, I’m joining the people who are fans of brawls, and I feel like we’re gonna see a brawl soon. The time for niceties is overrrrrr.



Tag Team Match





Boos erupt as “Pump It” by Electric Callboy hits over the PA. Kid Lucha emerges from the back. He is dressed in a bright green and hot pink police uniform with big sunglasses over his eyes. 


Jason Johnson: The DISRESPECT that Kid Lucha is showing right now, especially since the Midnight Cowboys can’t be here as they are still locked up in a Las Vegas jail.


Eryk Masters: We would like to remind the fans that SHOOT Project’s legal team is working tirelessly to get the Midnight Cowboys out of prison for a crime they did not commit.


Kid Lucha is, strangely, all by himself, but he doesn’t seem bothered by this. He walks to the ring twirling hot pink handcuffs and periodically threatening the crowd with a lime green nightstick at his side. Fans berate the flamboyant luchador, but he seems unphased by this. Upon reaching the ring, he leaps onto the apron and flips over the top rope with great agility. Kid Lucha holds his arms out and signals with his fingers for the crowd to cheer his athletics, but he is met with a series of boos. The boos seem to brighten him up, though, happy to be getting a reaction from the crowd, even if the reaction is hatred.


Jason Johnson: Say what you will about Kid Lucha and Lucha Fitness, but it seems they are finally getting a reaction from the crowd.


Eryk Masters: The SHOOT Faithful are reacting, that’s for sure.


Some trash is thrown at the ring as Kid Lucha signals for a microphone. Kid Lucha catches the microphone tossed to him but doesn’t immediately talk. Instead, he enjoys the crowd’s hatred, soaking in the boos and jeers.


Kid Lucha: You kno-


BOOOOOO! Kid Lucha grins as the crowd interrupts him. He lets them have their moment and die out.


Kid Lucha: You know, Maximo and I were stunned when the Midnight Criminals turned down our offer for a competitive match. After all, we thought that a team that took our tag team champions, our esteemed Colton Dynasty, to the LIMIT would be stoked to have a match with future champions like Lucha Fitness!


Kid Lucha again signals for cheers, which is met with more jeers. KL laughs at the crowd’s reaction.


Kid Lucha: I know! You should boo them! Boo their cowardly denial!


The crowd boos more, but not for the Midnight Cowboys. 


Kid Lucha: It is the opinion of Lucha Fitness, and therefore verifiable fact, that the reason the Midnight Cowboys turned down our offer for gentlemanly competition was because they knew that the long arm of Johnny Law, the fine folks at the LVPD, were coming for them. And that’s why we at Lucha Fitness always back the blue!


The crowd boos more.


Eryk Masters: Are they booing Lucha Fitness or the police?


Jason Johnson: Honestly, I’m not sure what the overall political breakdown of our viewership is.


Kid Lucha: To give you even more reason to turn your hatred on the Midnight Traffickers, we have official video footage of the arrest at Fantasies at the Oasis. Show’em the video babyyy!


The cameras turn to the SHOOTron as the screens come to life. We see both members of Lucha Fitness, Kid Lucha dressed in a lime green suit with a hot pink shirt. Maximo wears TIGHT pink leather pants, a lime green mesh shirt, and his “Sexiest In SHOOT” title belt. They are surrounded by barely dressed women and men who hang on both the luchadors. Maximo pops a champagne bottle and sprays it on a nearby blonde woman with a less than natural form and a small, but incredibly cut Asian man who wears pink booty shorts and a mesh shirt. They laugh as the champagne hits them.


Maximo Fisico: That’s just the aperitivo, amores. You’ll be sprayed again at some point tonight.


Maximo pours the remaining champagne into glasses and cheers the table. He sips his while Kid Lucha kills his glass and immediately pulls out a bottle of Belvedere and pours himself a glass with just a dash of cranberry juice. Kid Lucha appears fairly intoxicated at this point.


Kid Lucha: These motorcycle boys have a pretty nice club. Can’t believe they even have a VIP area. You’d think it’d be two pool tables and a bucket to piss in. 


Maximo Fisico: Is that what biker bars are like?


Kid Lucha: Fuck if I know babyyyy, I’m a classy man!


Kid Lucha laughs in the face of an attractive brunette next to him, who laughs in a manner that makes it clear she’s being paid to be there. As Kid Lucha takes a big swig of his drink, a large, heavily tatted, bald, and seemingly Japanese bouncer clad in biker leather comes over to their table.


Bouncer: Bosses say you have to leave.


Maximo takes another sip of his drink. Kid Lucha tries to look hurt, but he only pulls off intoxicated.


Maximo Fisico: And why is that? We’re spending good money, paying for these dancer’s times, buying top shelf. I’d say we’re ideal customers. 


Bouncer: Bosses don’t like you. Leave. 


Kid Lucha: Or fucking what, baby boy? 


The bouncer cracks his neck and knuckles.


Bouncer: Or I fucking make you.


Maximo stands up. He pours the rest of the glass of champagne on the floor. 


Maximo Fisico: Me gustaría verte intentarlo, puta.


The bouncer may not know what Maximo is saying, but he gets the gist. They both get face to face, but before anything can happen the sound of a door being burst open is heard off camera. The camera turns to see police in full riot gear enter the club. Screams and chaos ensue as the camera briefly cuts to static. When the camera comes back, we see Sho and Tafugai with their faces against the hoods of police cars, their hands behind their backs. Tafugai shouts in Japanese, while Sho tries to speak in English.


Sho Yoshida: That’s not ours! It’s not fucking ours!


Police bring out several bricks of cocaine, as well as several strippers in handcuffs. As Sho and Tafugai both protest, the camera pans over. We see Maximo and Kid Lucha smoking a fat cigar, leaning against the wall. A grin crosses Maximo’s face.


Maximo Fisico: Well…looks like we need to find a new club.


The camera cuts to static on the SHOOTron. It now cuts to a live feed of Maximo Fisico in the back, in his full-ring gear (which is not a lot, mind you). He sits in a poorly lit section of the back, a grim smile on his face.


Maximo Fisico: See, here’s the problem, cabrones. We just wanted a match with you. A little chance to prove ourselves in this tag division. And, yeah, we made fun of you, but the disrespect you showed. Well…we just couldn’t allow that. 


There is the sound of a muffled voice off camera. Maximo drops a punch to someone off camera, looking annoyed.


Maximo Fisico: ¡Cállate, cabrón! It is rude to interrupt. 


He returns his attention to the camera.


Maximo Fisico: Your cowardly denial of our match was an insult we couldn’t allow. So, we put a little…hex on you. Obviously your legal troubles are your own, I mean, dealing cocaína, how vile…


Maximo doesn’t wink at the camera, but his smile is suggestive and mocking.


Maximo Fisico: But nonetheless, you made light of Lucha Fitness. As much fun as we like to have…


His grin is gone.


Maximo Fisico: We are not to be taken lightly.


The smile returns. Maximo reaches down and pulls up a person. It’s a Japanese man, bald and covered in tattoos. He wears a biker’s vest with a “Midnight Cowboys MC” patch on. He has pink socks shoved in his mouth. His face is bloodied and battered, clearly the victim of a severe beating.


Maximo Fisico: That’s something your friend here learned. This is your bouncer, right? The one who tried to kick us out? The one that came to the Epicenter to teach us a lesson? He has already learned that we are not to be taken lightly. 


Maximo shoves the man back to the floor.


Maximo Fisico: If you can ever find your way out of the Las Vegas…cómo se dice…hoosegow, you know where to find us. Oh…sorry if you missed your massage.


The camera cuts to commercial.


The scene is wrestlers training in a gym, each wearing stylish Aurora Athletic Wear.


Narrator: When you’re battling it out in the ring, your gear needs to be as tough as you are. Aurora Athletic Wear is engineered for champions. Comfort, style, and endurance for every throw, every takedown.


A wrestler in Aurora gear executes a perfect move.


Narrator: Aurora Athletic Wear – Dress like a champion, fight like a legend.




Singles Match



The cameras cut backstage, where we find the nefarious trio of NC-17, his manager Johnny Vignochi, and his diminutive doppelganger, 7teeny, seemingly headed for the exit. Seventeen is dressed in plain clothes…a graphic t-shirt with a “Terrifier” logo and a black leather jacket. He looks animated as he argues with his agent, a pair of stone  cold black oakleys covering his eyes. The sickly skinny Johnny Vig is wearing an outrageous fur coat, while 7teeny is dressed head to toe in NC-17 merchandise.


NC-17: Vig, none of these matches matter. The catering food sucks, the drinks are overpriced, let’s blow this popsicle stand. Hell, I’d rather be in jail with Tofu Guy and Yoshi at this point!


Johnny Vig: Teen, you’re the PREMIER CHAMPION. Ya need to be keepin’ an eye on the comp. Who knows which of these dweeble-dwarfs’ll be comin’ for ya…the hookers and blow will ALWAYS be there!


NC-17: Yah, I know, but uh…I want ‘em right now.


Johnny Vig: Teeny, will ya talk some sense into this fuckin’ jamoke? The guy don’t listen to NOTHIN’ I tell him!


The half-sized 7teeny cocks his head, clearly in agreement with Vig.


7teeny: He’s got a point Teen. Any one of these guys could be your next match. Laura Seton, X-Calibur, hell, what about–


Just then, Miranda DC, dressed in her Marist hoodie and a pair of jeans, saunters up to the group’s powwow. A pop goes up from the Epicenter. 7teeny doesn’t get to finish his sentence.


Miranda DC: So, putos, are you ready to answer my challenge?


NC-17 looks thoroughly annoyed now. He throws up his arms as if to say, “great, see what you did?” and Johnny Vig springs into action, trying to run interference. He steps between Mira and his client, as if his 135 lb ass can prevent an altercation.


Johnny Vig: Ayyy ohhh, the champ’s not signin’ any autographs right now. Sorry kid.


NC-17: That’s English for “fuck off”.


Mira rolls her eyes, tugging on the strings of her hoodie.


Miranda DC: I figured an egomaniac like you would want a chance to collect as much gold as possible. I guess your bitch gene is a lot stronger than your greed. But that’s okay. I’ve been with plenty of men who would rather do the easy thing and play video games or talk shit instead of tangle with me. It doesn’t surprise me that someone who would take a victory lap on someone who’s not even here anymore wouldn’t want to challenge themselves.


NC-17 rolls his eyes and shakes his head.


NC-17: Blah blah blah blah, look. In the time it took me to listen to your ten minute monologue, I could’ve banged a couple uh shots and had a groupie’s number. It’s been real. Real shitty. C’mon Vig, Teeny, I got another belt I gotta go defend…my drinking championship. Adios ya fuckin’ dork.


Seventeen doesn’t give Miranda the chance to respond. Instead he twirls around and pounds through the exit door, followed by a waaaay too confident Johnny Vig, who’s dusting his shoulders off. Curiously, though, 7teeny doesn’t follow. Instead the short man digs in his pockets, producing a pen and paper.


7teeny: I can’t believe I’m on LIVE television…with MIRANDA DC.


The Epicenter pops again, a huge one this time. Mira looks taken aback.


7teeny: I’ve been a GIGANTIC fan of yours for the last year. You mind if I get your John Hancock? You can make it out to “Max Towers”…don’t tell Vig and Teen, but that’s actually my real name.


Miranda looks at him like he’s got five heads at first, but then she relents a little. There’s an earnestness in his face, and she recognizes it.


Miranda: you know what? Sure.


She examines the paper making sure she wasn’t signing a phantom contract or some kind of tricky legal screed, and then signs it.


Miranda: Here. Our secret.


7teeny looks like a kid in a candy shop. He examines the paper, totally cheesing, before hugging Miranda’s ankle warmly.


7teeny: You’re awesome! Thanks again! And oh! I’ll see you down in Oaxaca! Lucha Especial 5, bay-bee! Look out for me in the Aztec scramble!


The smaller Seventeen look-a-like waddles off happily, still admiring his newfound autograph, leaving Miranda to puzzle how and why the little guy got on the card of the independent event.



She stood with arms crossed, watching the monitor in the back.  There wasn’t anything specific Laura Seton had been hoping to see tonight, but it was more satisfying watching via monitor versus trying to watch from alongside the curtains.  As she tied her hair into a ponytail, she got that feeling.  The one everyone hates because it induces unnecessary paranoia.


That someone was watching her.


As she turns around, she’s met with a smile.  A brash, cocky one at that.  One that belonged to Joshua Breedlove.


Joshua Breedlove: The indescribable Laura Seton. Inimitable, even. Possibly the greatest Rule of Surrender Champion ever. Right here, before my very eyes, in the flesh.


Laura Seton: Aren’t you supposed to be beyond the “suck up to the opponent” stage?  Not that I don’t appreciate it, but… you’re not exactly Joe Blow from the seventh row.


Breedlove: I like to think of it more like I’m in the “giving the right people their flowers” stage or the “calling it like I see it stage,” but you know, to each their own. 


He wrings his hands together while.


Breedlove: I’m looking forward to this. Looking forward to fighting a different opponent, one that’s not part of the Blackhawk Gym, one that’s not trying to like… ruin my career. Just an actual good wrestling match.


Laura Seton: I’m sure you’re up for this.  We went at it hard a while back and, well, considering that result?  I know you’re itching for this because you don’t like being on the wrong end record-wise against someone.


Breedlove’s voice brought a figure out of the locker room.  A tall brunette very closely related to Laura Seton.  Madison Seton appears, getting a nod from her sister.


Laura Seton: What’s up, Maddie?


Madison simply stares towards Breedlove.  No words.  Just a simple gaze as her brow slightly narrows and her eyes show a level of thought she hopes is understood as she places her hands on her hips.


Breedlove: I do hate to lose, you’re right, but I’m looking at this whole thing as the start of a new chapter, you know? I don’t think they’ve stipulated this as a number one contender’s match, but it sorta feels that way. 


Breedlove pauses for a moment, looking at the Seton sisters.


Breedlove: But I know I’m preaching to the choir with you. For you, I’m sure this is one of those things that is like getting back in the saddle, trying to get one more shot at that glory. I can respect that. And you…


Breedlove looks directly at Madison Seton.


Breedlove: Let’s you and me have a chat. Cool? 


Madison Seton: I’ll be around…


She cracks a smile before disappearing back towards the locker room.


Laura Seton: And I’ll see you out there.  You may not have anything to lose, having won the Rumble and all, but I’m sure you’re too prideful to “back into” a World Title match.


Singles Match



As the bell rings, Mikey sits up with a grin on his face as Samuels rolls to his knees, asking the ref if that really was three. As the ref nods, the look on Ryan’s face goes from confusion to utter fury. 


Jason Johnson: Samuels does not look too pleased with the result of this match.


 De Los Huesos has climbed onto the second turnbuckle, celebrating his win with the crowd as the big man gets to his feet. As Mike hops down, he comes face to face with a darkened Midwest Nightmare and smirks as he tells him that he beat his ass. 


Eryk Masters: I don’t know if poking the bear is a great idea right now.


After a few moments, Mike goes to walk past Samuels but is stopped when the big man steps into his path. De Los Huesos tells Samuels to get the hell out of his way and the big man steps aside, clearing Mikey’s path. 


Eryk Masters: De Los Huesos may have just had a closer brush with fate then he realizes.


As Mike begins to climb out of the ring, through the ropes, Ryan Samuels suddenly kicks the middle rope, crotching De Los Huesos. 


Jason Johnson: I knew it! Ryan Samuels has never been known to take losing gracefully.


The Midwest Nightmare begins to unload a fury of right hooks and forearms to the back of Mike as the smaller man struggles to get his footing. After a nasty knee to the ribs, Mike falls out of the ring but his foot is tangled in the ropes, leaving him hanging upside down on the outside. 


Eryk Masters: This is not right! De Los Huesos is trapped and Ryan Samuels is taking full advantage of his unfavorable situation.


Samuels slides out of the ring and delivers a series of knees and kicks to the chest and ribs of Mike de Los Huesos. The referee tries to intervene but Ryan pushes him to the ground and drops an elbow right down on Mike’s face as he hangs helplessly. 


Eryk Masters: Someone needs to get down here, this is sickening. Someone call security!


Now with a frenzied look on his face, Samuels turns and pushes the ringside attendant off his chair and picks it up. Holding it up, Ryan growls as he turns back to Mike, who is trying his best to free his foot. 


Eryk Masters: No no no!


With a sudden sickening crack, Samuels swings the chair with all his might right onto the exposed knee and leg of Mikey de Los Huesos as the fans boo. Another smash of the chair and Mike is reeling in pain. A few more refs try to separate the two men but Samuels is swinging the chair at anyone within his reach keeping the refs at bay. 


Jason Johnson: This man is an absolute lunatic! This is not right. De Los Huesos is hurt and Ryan Samuels is trying to permanently injure him.


After a tense few moments, Samuels slowly climbs over the barricade and disappears into the crowd as the refs call for the medical team to come help the injured Mike de Los Huesos. 


Singles Match



Breedlove rolls out of the ring, and from out of nowhere, a metal chair comes FLYING at his face, top speed!!  Josh throws his hands up to block out of instinct–and gets caught HARD in the midsection by an absolute CANNON BLAST of a spinning heel kick from…



Jason Johnson: Oh fuck! Nate Robideau is here and he’s… wait, I thought this was done?! 


Eryk Masters: I thought so too! Looks like Nate Robideau has other ideas!

Breedlove crumples slightly, setting his jaw and trying to retaliate, but his red face and watery eyes tell the story clearly: he’s having trouble getting his breath back!  He lunges, but he’s far too stunned to mount an effective attack, barely getting his arm down to block a knee to the ribs, leaving his head unguarded!  Nate pounces on this and makes him pirouette with a left hook, then grabs him from behind and SWINGS HIM INTO THE BARRICADE HEAD FIRST!!  Josh’s forehead eats the impact but the momentum accordions him into the gate as much as the human body can, arms flailing, shoulders touching the back of the head–Breedlove’s back bows and his body crumples.  Nate looks at the heap of Joshua Breedlove, shaking his head.  Almost shocked. 

Robideau: You stupid, stupid son of a bitch. 

He crouches, smiling, idly dragging his bloody knuckles across his cheeks. 

Robideau: I didn’t lie, Josh.  Blackhawk versus the Empire is dead. 

Nate leans in close. 

Robideau: We won, incidentally. 

Condescendingly, he tousles Breedlove’s hair, causing the dormant leader of the Empire to start stirring. 

Robideau: But you and me?  You and me, you pig fuck?!  I haven’t even begun to make you miserable, Josh.  I haven’t even begun to dismantle you.  But it’s not going to be here, not just going to be in the ring…I’m going to wreck your life piece by piece.  Piece by fucking piece.  Until you have nothing. 

Breedlove: Nate…I–

Robideau sneers and SLAMS his face into the ground–once, twice, a third for good measure–the sound of bloody flesh impacting into the mats cutting across the audio feed! 

Robideau: Shut up!  Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to the creator, I’ll crack your jaw in so many places it has to be wired shut, I–look.  Look.  Josh.  It’s my turn.  You’ll have plenty of time to tell everyone in the world how bad a person I am for double crossing Joshua Breedlove, the pure, innocent lamb of SHOOT Project.  But I see through you.  I always have.  I might be a bad man.  Hell, I am a bad man.  I had to become one to build my legacy.  But I’ve never been a snake, not like you.  I’ve never been a schemer like you.  You like to trade in fancy words and subterfuge and obfuscation?  My world is flesh and blood and bone.  It’s beautiful, how simple it is. 

With a mockingly conciliatory tone, Nate grasps Josh by the shoulder and shakes him gently. 

Robideau: Sorry, buddy.  SHOOT just isnt big enough for the both of us.  So I’m going to retire you.  


With that, Nate kisses the scarred, flattened knuckles of his right hand, one by one–and then BLASTS Joshua Breedlove in the face once more for good measure!  He stands, wiping his hands, considering the fact that his nemesis lays entirely helpless at his feet.  Nate seems to be debating something, finally before shaking his head and mockingly shouting up the ramp.


Robideau: Medic!!  We need a Medic down here!!  


Jason Johnson: That was QUITE the display. Not sure how I feel about it.


Eryk Masters: Not a Breedlove fan? 


Jason Johnson: I go back and forth, really. He’s a star for sure. I just… I guess I like the violence that Nate Robideau brings, you know what I’m saying? And hey, it’s not like…

Jason’s interrupted as Nate begins to walk away slowly, stuffing his his hands into his pockets, whistling to himself.  Down the ramp rush two EMS workers, who begin to check on Breedlove–one pulls a neck collar from his gear bag and begins to place it around The Emperor’s neck…and gets thrown to his ass!  The other worker holds his hands up in a non-confrontational manner, his shirt being gripped by Joshua Breedlove…who is crawling his way to standing, under his own power!  


Jason Johnson: No fucking way, E. No way did this dude just get pummeled into oblivion and he’s just…


Eryk Masters: Breedlove’s standing on his own TWO FEET. What are we even watching here? 


Jason Johnson: Oh that? That’s just pure willpower and rage. 


The crowd is losing their mind at the display. He finally lets the EMS worker’s shirt go as he steadies himself against the wall, his forehead lumpy, blood coating one side of his face, his right eye nearly swollen shut!!  He begins to advance in the direction that Nate went, and the crowd goes NUTS for that, showing an extreme amount of drive, but then, unfortunately his legs buckle and he drops to one knee.  


The scene closes, the visage of the battered Breedlove imposed with the view of Nate Robideau, walking backwards up the ramp, smiling. Pleased with what he’s done.