The cameras open in the ring where the contract signing for the Losers Leave Town Steel Cage match at The Hunt PPV is about to take place. Red, White, & Bruise—Ryan Samuels and Johnny Patriot—are standing on one side of the table, receiving cheers from the fans. Across from them is Major Malice, clad in his militant attire, holding a microphone with a cold smirk. Next to Malice, looking completely defeated, is Roy Vezina, acting as Malice’s water boy. The Punch Line—Harv Norris and Rick Hull—are notably absent, adding to the tension.

The table in the center of the ring holds the contracts, and Johnny Patriot, always the showman, is hyping up the crowd with a wide grin. Ryan Samuels, meanwhile, glares at Malice with his arms crossed, tension palpable. He doesn’t bother with theatrics—his focus is on Malice.

Ryan Samuels: (gruffly, voice dripping with suspicion) Why the hell would you put your own team’s jobs on the line, Malice? What’s the play here?

The crowd buzzes at the question. Malice chuckles, unfazed by Ryan’s accusation. He steps toward Ryan with calculated ease, the smirk never leaving his face.

Major Malice: (mocking, slowly) Why? Because I can. I put their jobs on the line because I’m tired of dragging them along like a couple of dead weights. They’ve proven they can’t get the job done, time after time. So if they can’t win this match, then I’m better off without them. That’s why.

Ryan’s eyes narrow, fists tightening as Johnny Patriot places a hand on his chest to hold him back. The air grows tense as the fans start to sense things are about to explode.

Ryan Samuels: (growling, voice low and dangerous) You keep running your mouth, and I’ll shut it for you.

Johnny Patriot: (trying to cool things down) Easy, partner. We’ve got a fight coming up at The Hunt. Let’s focus on that.

Malice, enjoying the tension he’s stirring up, raises an eyebrow and turns fully to face Ryan.

Major Malice: (mocking) Oh, what’s the matter, Samuels? Didn’t like hearing the truth? (he laughs) I thought you were supposed to be the tough guy, huh? But here you are, getting all worked up. For all your talk, maybe you’re just as much of a joke as the rest of them.

Before Ryan can respond, Malice’s eyes land on Roy Vezina, and his voice drops into a venomous, almost gleeful tone.

Major Malice: (sneering) And speaking of jokes… look at this sorry excuse for a man. Mr. Canada himself—reduced to a water boy. Pathetic. You were supposed to lead this team to greatness, Roy, remember? You were the one barking orders, acting like the king of the mountain. Now look at you. Holding water bottles, scurrying around like a kicked dog. Some captain you turned out to be.

Roy winces but stays silent, shrinking further into the background. Surprisingly, Ryan Samuels, despite their long history of animosity, steps forward, defending Roy.

Ryan Samuels: (gruffly, with a surprising sense of decency) That’s enough. He’s been through enough without you kicking him while he’s down.

The crowd is taken aback. It’s a strange moment, seeing Ryan, who once had a deep grudge against Roy, sticking up for him. Even Johnny Patriot looks momentarily confused, but he nods in approval. Malice, however, is quick to pounce on this unexpected turn.

Major Malice: (gleeful, eyes widening with amusement) Oh, now this is rich. Ryan Samuels, sticking up for Roy Vezina? After everything? How touching. The big, bad Midwest Nightmare has gone soft! All that tough talk, and now you’re playing the hero? What’s the matter, Ryan? Feeling guilty? Or maybe—just maybe—you’re just as worthless as the rest of them.

Malice’s smirk grows as he steps closer to Ryan, sensing the tension rising. He’s relishing every second of it.

Major Malice: (mockingly) Let’s take a little stroll down memory lane, shall we? Let’s talk about your failures, Samuels. You walked into SHOOT Project like you were something special. The “Midwest Nightmare,” the guy who was gonna take over everything, right? But what happened? You lost—again and again. You couldn’t even hang onto your mask down in Mexico, and now here you are, brawling with nobodies like Rick and Harv, trying to stay relevant.

Ryan’s fists tighten even more, but Johnny keeps holding him back, whispering for him to stay cool. Malice continues, now pacing slowly, his voice dripping with mockery.

Major Malice: (turning to Johnny Patriot) And you, Johnny. Mr. Red, White, and Blue, waving your little flag, talking about liberty and justice. You think anyone takes you seriously? You’ve been stuck in mid-card purgatory for years, clinging to any shred of relevance. The only thing keeping you afloat is this dumb patriotic act, and even that’s getting old. What’s next? Gonna bring a bald eagle to the ring?

Johnny Patriot’s grin fades slightly, but he stays composed. Malice turns his attention to Roy again, and his tone grows even nastier.

Major Malice: (snarling) And you, Roy. You remember when you were the leader of The Punch Line, right? The so-called “captain”? You talked big, but what did you accomplish? Nothing. You lost match after match. You couldn’t even keep your own team together. And now? You’re carrying water bottles for me. If that’s not rock bottom, I don’t know what is.

Roy looks completely defeated, his shoulders slumped. He says nothing, just stares at the floor. Malice’s voice grows colder as he continues.

Major Malice: (viciously) The truth is, you’re all failures. Ryan, Johnny, Harv, Rick, and Roy. You’re all just different shades of the same pathetic mess. You cling to whatever scraps you can find because deep down, you know you’re not good enough. You know it, and I know it.

Suddenly, The Punch Line’s theme music hits, and Harv Norris and Rick Hull storm down the ramp, looking furious. They slide into the ring, getting right in Malice’s face.

Harv Norris: (furiously, accent thick) What da hell, Malice? Why didn’t ya tell us about dis contract signin’? Ya just throwin’ us to da wolves without even lettin’ us know?

Rick Hull: (frustrated, trying to stay calm) We’re supposed to be a team, but you’re doing this behind our backs. What kind of leader are you?

Malice steps toward them, his smirk still in place.

Major Malice: (sneering) Leader? I’m not your leader—I’m your boss. And if you two had actually won some matches, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess. But no. You’ve embarrassed me, embarrassed yourselves, and now you want to act like you’re owed something? Newsflash—you’re not.

Harv, red-faced and seething, takes a step forward, fists clenched, but Rick pulls him back. Security rushes down to the ring, trying to keep the situation from escalating. Harv, Rick, Ryan, and Johnny all start shouting at each other as the tension reaches a boiling point. Malice, meanwhile, stands back, a sinister grin on his face, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Major Malice: (yelling over the commotion) At The Hunt, this all ends! And no matter what happens, SHOOT Project will be rid of some dead weight. You can bet on that!

As the shouting continues, Roy Vezina shrinks further into the corner, trying to stay out of the crossfire. The camera zooms in on his defeated expression, the once-proud leader now reduced to a spectator in his own downfall. The scene fades out as the crowd buzzes in anticipation for the high-stakes match, with tensions between all five men at an all-time high.