Outside of the Epicenter, loading dock area. Kitsune and Dave de los Muertos stand, sadly regarding their compatriot: Mike de los Huesos, we assume, in his skeleton bones hoodie pulled up, a neck gaiter style covid mask pulled up over his face. He looks to them both with sadness in his eyes.
Mike: Yo like I didn’t really mean to do that, guys. I’m sorry. I know fucking off for a week aint exactly the brotherly shit to do but I just needed to dip back to Queens for a little bit. Get a morir sonando, clear my mind a bit.
He looks down.
Mike: But I shoulda at least texted y’all.
There’s a moment. A Truck drives by laying on it’s jake brake.
Dave: Bruh…like you gonna be forgiven, that’s not for debate. But like…let us help you, bruh. Let us make you feel like more comfortable with this shit.
Mike: Whatcha mean?
Kitsune shakes his head.
Kitsune: Man, we ain’t just some masked up team for laughs. We been through it. This is a brotherhood. You feel pain, we feel pain. You get fucked up, we get fucked up. You go on vision quests, we go on vision quests. You lose your mask, we lose ours.
Kitsune starts to unlace the back of his skull/fox-like mask. Dave, right beside him, starts to do the same. Mike looks at the both of them speechless for a moment before he starts shaking his head quickly. He holds out his hands, practically barking.
Mike: Wait! Wait. You’d really do that shit? For ole Devastating Mike the Preemptive Strike?
Kitsune: No hesitation.
Dave: Bacalao Dave don’t play.
Kitsune: You our family, all day every day.
Mike thinks on this. Shakes his head.
Mike: Nah, dont.
Mike: Victor Thane did that to weaken me and to weaken us, right? If him doing one thing makes yall do two others, that’s what he wants. If him doing that one thing makes you two give up your identities, that’s what he wants. It ain’t enough to go fight in that ring, he wants me down in my whole ass existence. And I aint a fuckin’ bout to give that dickhead the satisfaction. So you stay Kitsune with that sweet skeletal fox look that makes the panties stay dropping. You stay Dave de los Huesos, graveyard heartthrob.
After a long pause, they re-do what they have already undone. Kit leans in.
Kitsune: But where does that leave my brother Mikey de los Huevos? You going out there naked?
Mike pulls two things from his pocket–his phone and a long, plump blunt. He unlocks it and moves to a photo, looking at it with smiling eyes. He hands the phone to Kit and turns away from the camera, pulling down his mask and sparking the holy chalice. With his breath choked up from the hit, he speaks.
Mike: I had an idea.
Big exhale. He extends his arm to Dave, who takes a big hit looking at what Kit is seeing. There’s a long moment before they both look to Mike, nodding.
Dave: Hell yeah.
Kitsune: Fuck yeah.
Kit gets handed the blunt, and the camera pans away, leaving the three Brogun Brothers on the loading dock, haloed by harsh industrial lighting, the cypher three men–complete once more.
Buck Dresden Vs. RAIKO
Buck motions for the music to stop. He may have won, but he’s not finished. He looks down at RAIKO and then looks back to the entrance ramp. He turns to the camera and looks at it with savage intent for a brief moment before he bends down, picks her up, and hoists her onto his shoulder. He charges at the turnbuckle and SLAMS her into it! She is out of breath from the hit and staggers forward, directly into Buck grabbing her, putting her head between his legs, and lifting her up above his head…neckbreaker ADIOS! She is DOWN.
Eryk Masters: Buck Dresden is trying to send a strong message to the Proper Villainz tonight!
Buck picks her back up and holds her arm to keep her up. He whips her around…BUCK SHOT. He keeps a hold of the arm, picks her up again…BUCK SHOT. He looks at the crowd who are less excited than before and are now just watching with unease as he picks her right back up again…BUCK SHOT. He lets her lie there for a moment before walking over and demanding a microphone. The referee is calling for EMTs to come help RAIKO.
Buck Dresden: That’s one.
He walks over, shoves the referee out of the way, and he hooks her legs up, wraps them around, and puts her in a Texas Cloverleaf. She calls out in pain and taps violently as the EMTs and various referees rush in, trying to get him off of her.
Other Guy: Man, I’ve never seen him act like this!
Buck finally relents and lets her go. He goes to leave, but stomps on her ankle once before taking a step away. The EMTs call for a stretcher. Buck leans against the ropes and watches the events unfold before him as they care for RAIKO. He takes the microphone again.
Buck Dresden: I wonder where yer team is, girl. Where’s the Proper Villainz at? I know Artie won’t save you.
The EMTs strap her to the gurney and keep checking to make sure she is somewhat conscious.
Buck Dresden: You think they care ‘bout you? You think…you think they care about me?
Buck Dresden: Naw, honey, they don’t give a damn about nobody. Which is why none of them are gonna help each other. Which is why as I send each of you out on a stretcher one by one, none of them will stop me. Y’all ain’t a team, y’all a business. Problem is…this whole time y’all thought y’all had a monopoly on bein’ visceral an’ violent an’ I’m here to tell ya one thing.
He smirks as they load her onto the stretcher. He rolls from the ring and walks up to the stretcher so she can see him.
Buck Dresden: I walk tall, I speak soft, an’ I just beat yer ass with a big stick.
He quickly KICKS the stretcher over, causing RAIKO to tumble to the side! The EMTs and referees finally get him away from the stretcher and he drops the microphone. “Outlaws and Outsiders” begins to play as he looks out at the sea of fans, his point made and his intentions clear.
Backstage, a locker room. Judy-E DeMitri, the World Champion, sits, laying out her gear in a line down the bench. Once unpacked, she grasps a roll of medical tape, working her thumbnail on edge with a sort of lax determination—when her attention is drawn to the door being knocked upon. She stands up, cracks her knuckles. Rolls her shoulders. This is reality when you make enemies. She walks to the door and opens it a crack—revealing Nate Robideau.
Robideau: Hello, Judith. Could I come in?
She steps back, affording him a wide berth. More likely, keeping enough space to mount a counterattack. Her eyes flit to his movements, hoping to catch the tension of a muscle in preparing a strike. None comes. Clad in sweats and a Blackhawk Fight Gym hoodie, Nate walks to a folding chair and has himself a seat, hands stuffed in the front pouch. He notices the title belt sitting safe in it’s travel bag, and there’s a long moment where he eyeballs it with almost a look of mourning before turning his attention to the younger DeMitri.
Robideau: I don’t blame you for being on guard, especially after what those animals did to you. But rest assured, I’m not here to try and beat you up in the locker room. Not quite my style.
Judy-E: Yeah…yeah I kinda figured…
She settles down onto the bench. Frowning.
Judy-E: What do you want?
Robideau: To lend an ear.
He sighs and leans back.
Robideau: I know I’m basically an enemy, to you. We faced one another and we didn’t do it enough times to forge anything like a feeling of mutual respect, though I do hold you in high, high respect. You’re young and your blood runs hot. I’ve been there. But I also know how that belt can work as one heck of an agent of isolation. Always looking over your shoulder. Always looking for the hidden agenda.
There’s a long pause of silence.
Judy-E: I don’t consider you my enemy, I don’t think. I have a…perspective. I’m trying to break out of it. You have been, without a shadow of a doubt, my biggest challenge in SHOOT. Yet you’ve also been one of the most honest, straightforward people I’ve dealt with in my time here. I’ve been mad…hell I’ve been furious, but a lot of that anger in retrospect was my own, and was the situation far more than it was about you. I have a locker room full of strong, incredibly knowledgeable and kind friends that have been great to talk to but…like you said.
She looks over to the championship, and then meets Nate’s gaze once more.
Judy-E: I could be in a crowd of people and it feels like I’m all alone, sometimes. I don’t know. I hate saying this because people would fuckin’ bleed themselves dry to be where I am right now…but this doesn’t feel like I thought it would. I thought it’d be more…
Judy-E’s eyes light up a bit, and she nods.
Nate thinks in silence a moment before responding.
Robideau: You are quite possibly one of the best young talents SHOOT has had come through it’s gates in years. You’ve come from opening shows at Shut Up and Fight to main eventing Pay-Per-Views, and becoming SHOOT Project Heavyweight Champion. Your struggle for definition has nothing to do with your skill or fight inside of the ring, and it has everything to do with your own perception of yourself.
Judy-E frowns somewhat, but stays silent. Nate nods in affirmative before continuing.
Robideau: Let me ask…who are you?
Judy-E: I’m Judy-E DeMitri. I’m…
Robideau: …if you’re Judy-E DeMitri, who is NEMESIS?
Her eyes soften somewhat, almost nervous as she glances over at her mask. Eyeless, expressionless, it blankly stares back up at her. She looks back at Nate.
Judy-E: I am…
Robideau: Until you figure out what side of that coin you land on, it’s going to be this way for you.
He stands. Judy opens her mouth, wanting to push back…but she hesitates. Jaw clenching.
Judy-E: What…what would you do?
Nate pauses, looking to the floor. He flexes his fingers, cracking his knuckles, before stuffing them in his pocket.
Robideau: I went away because I was too tapped in to my instinct to hurt and not enough into my instinct to be a human being. I told my therapist I cann them ‘Nate’ and ‘Ignatius’. Nate wants to beat you so badly, break you definitively, that you live in fear of his terrible retribution for the rest of your waking days. Ignaatius wanted a family and to help his community in any way he saw fit. I always told her I thought they were at war with one another. And that while I was inside the guys in my block would always court the first because they wanted to know they were tough enough to defeat me. So Nate always got fed–Ignatius starved. But since I’ve been out I’ve been afforded some degree of perspective.
He pivots so he’s standing directly in front of her. Their eyes meet.
Robideau: The truth is, there is no feud between Nate and Ignatius. Every person you’ll ever meet is primed and ready for great acts of courage and great acts of destruction in equal measure. That’s humanity. All I was doing is simplifying the fact that I’m just like everyone else: complex and greyscale. But when I gave them a name? Set them at odds in my head?
Robideau: Well, that’s when I was at my unhappiest. Take that for what it’s worth.
Despite those last words, Judy-E actually smiles a little. She reaches her hand out, hopeful.
Judy-E: I appreciate your wisdom, Nate…and your time. Thank you.
There was a quiet alto to her voice, not the forced bravado, not the steely tone behind the mask. Something genuine. Real. Nate stares at her a second before nodding and shaking her hand firmly, then patting her on the shoulder before turning to walk off.
Nate: You’re welcome, Judy-E. Invitation is still open.
Jamie Johnson Vs. Ignatius Albert Martin
The camera cuts backstage as the SHOOT Project Heavyweight Champion NEMESIS is calmly stepping through the hallways to the VALOR locker room. The cameras are following close behind her, she’s already dressed for her match as she slides her gloved hands over her mask’s bright red mohawk. She just starts to turn around to the camera as she walks…
NEMESIS: They won’t know wh-
Before she’s able to finish her sentence, NEMESIS is tripped and shoved from behind! The cameras stop mid-stride to catch Joshua Breedlove standing above the prone champion!
Joshua Breedlove: Where’s the shit-talking now, champ?
He accents his words with a sharp stomp down into her ribs before instantly kneeling down into them, using his weight advantage to bear down sudden elbows into the side of her temple.
Joshua Breedlove: You run your mouth, over and over, you’ve been doing it since you got here. You think you’re better than me, than ANYONE just because you have a championship? Because of some wins? You’re just another dumb-
He sighs out in frustration as NEMESIS attempts to throw some punches, struggling under him. He shakes his head before raking his fingers down the front of her face violently, gouging at her eyes and pulling at the mask. She screams out in pain and her hands instantly go to her face, attempting to cover up.
Joshua Breedlove: Don’t like that? Hm…
A grin starts to form on Breedlove’s face. In an instant he’s ripping and tearing at NEMESIS’ face, more specifically her mask. Pulling, tugging, yanking in-between punches, trying whatever he can to rip it off of her!
Joshua Breedlove: What the hell do you think you are? You’re a champion! This is a disgrace to actual luchadors! You don’t get to hide your face here! I’m going to rip this stupid godd-
In a sudden burst of violence, NEMESIS smashes a spiking elbow right under Breedlove’s yammering jaw, instantly shutting it with a sickening *CLOP*! He staggers backwards off of her, and suddenly NEMESIS is on her feet, the black leather of her mask torn at it’s edges.
NEMESIS: You…stupid little brat!
There was something different this time. NEMESIS’s normally exposed lower jaw and mouth were painted a ghastly white, her lips dripping ichor black. Her eyes are almost lit up in the relative darkness of the Epicenter’s hallways, glaring holes into Breedlove. There’s a tense moment where both combatants are defensively postured, sizing each other up. Slowly, however, NEMESIS reaches up, and grabs the side of her mask, her left wrapping it’s fingers into the mohawk.
NEMESIS: I’ve worn this since I got here…hiding. Pretending I’m something other than myself.
Breedlove glares at NEMESIS with a mix of annoyance and contempt.
Joshua Breedlove: Oh don’t you dare sta-
NEMESIS: SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH!
Her voice BOOMS through the Epicenter, causing the crowd that had gathered around the two to all reflexively take several steps back. It even caused Breedlove to stop mid-sentence. In a slow, dragging motion, NEMESIS literally TEARS the mask from her head, pulling it from the back towards the front, and letting the tatters hang in her hand as she pulls it down. Breedlove’s look turns from anger to regret…almost even a bit of fear as he too takes a step back.
Judy-E DeMitri: You want to see the real me, Joshua?
Her words had this horrifying calmness to them considering her outburst a second ago. As her hands come down with the remains of the mask, the camera finally sees what has Breedlove taken aback. Judy-E’s face is done in full corpse-paint regalia. Slathered a ghostly white with soot black eyes that seem to drip down her face in jagged, smeared trails, exacerbated by the ripping of the mask. Her lips drip midnight down her cheeks. She looks down at the remains of her mask. Her hands, once prone to shaking, were statuesque in their stature as they slowly held it up in front of Breedlove’s face.
Judy-E DeMitri: …catch.
In a quick motion, Judy-E snaps the remains of the mask into Breedlove’s general direction. Before he even has a chance to bring his hands up to catch it, Judy-E silently lunges at Breedlove, using the several feet that separate them to build as much momentum as she can before she leaps up into the air and drives a PERFECT flying knee right into Breedlove’s sternum! Breedlove’s lungs expel any and all air inside of them in one coughing *FWUMP* before he falls back. Instead of pushing towards a greater offensive, Judy-E just stands tall above him, staring down at him with a cold smile.
Judy-E DeMitri: I’ll see you in a bit, Josh. Bring your friends. You’ll all get what’s fuckin’ due.
With a voice that sounded like a mix between her normal and her NEMESIS tones, Judy-E turns her back to her attacker, and stalks back to the VALOR locker-room, leaving Breedlove on the ground with the remains of her mask.
Eryk Masters: Well ladies and gentlemen. Our next match is about to-
The light dim as “All Within My Hands” by Metallica hits the speakers, bringing the audience to their feet immediately.
Other Guy: Oh shit. Arthur Pleasant’s actually HERE?!
The music goes on for several moments as everyone waits in anticipation for either Arthur Pleasant stepping through the curtains, or Buck Dresden dragging Arthur Pleasant through the curtains.
Eryk Masters: Well, where is he?!
Other Guy: Buck might’ve got to him already, Eryk. This could be-
Eryk Masters: Wait! Look!
The SHOOTron comes to life and Arthur Pleasant’s ugly, sleezy looking mug is front and center. The music dies down and everyone in attendance is fraught with disappointment. The camera Arthur holds is shaky and clearly there is no noise suppression going on right now as we can hear everything happening within the vicinity. Looking into what is most likely his mobile device, Arthur grins evilly.
Arthur Pleasant: Buckley. Come on, Buckster. Calm the fuck down, will ya? I know you’re watching all the cameras in the Epicenter. Scooting the truck monkeys over and sliding into their sweat-stained seats as you endlessly follow every busybody coming and going from Revolution. Or… or is this Ruination?! I honestly can’t keep track anymore. Good thing I’m not color blind. Hehe.
Under his breath, but still audible to the crowd, he mutters, “Purple for Revolution and red for Ruination. Purple for Ruination… red for Revolution.”. Shaking his head to funnel out any confusion, he continues via FaceTime for the entire Epicenter.
Arthur Pleasant: All this… because you’re pissed off at little ole me. Waaaaaaaaaah. And now, there you are, somewhere at Revoluination, impatiently wait for THE moment of my arrival. Huzzah~!
Pleasant smirks as he switches his hands holding onto the cell phone’s camera.
Arthur Pleasant: I’m sure you have the welcome wagon at the ready too, Buckerino. I saw that look in your eyes after you failed to beat KIMO for the Shut Up and Fight Championship. You probably got Jonas to come back after his hair implant procedure to watch your hillbilly ass after these long three weeks.
The SHOOT Project fans cheer at the mention of Jonas, ignoring why he was mentioned like the millennial and xennial dullards they are.
Arthur Pleasant: OooooOOOooOOOO. #BadAssBrotherhood4eeeeveeeer. Speaking of which, wasn’t… yeah, wasn’t there a third member of you Sons of Anarchy cosplaying fuck wagons? What was his name again? Chester Bruno Maleficent? Or something? Yeah. You probably even dug him up to join in on the stomp party you no doubt intend on throwing on my beautiful face. Hehe.
The fans all boo this vehemently.
Other Guy: Yeah, that just crossed the line.
Eryk Masters: Folks, we apologize for that. For those who aren’t aware, Charles Brandon Magnus had been declared… well, we won’t get into that here. Not the time nor place for it, to be honest. Just know that there is absolutely NO place for anybody in SHOOT to use his name in vain. Again, we apologize.
As if Arthur was plugged directly into the commentary team, Arthur shakes his head as soon as Eryk says this.
Arthur Pleasant: Oh my GOD you politically correct pussy ass bitch!! Shhhuuuuuut THE FUCK UP, Eryk. You goddamn tool bag. But, yeah. Hate to burst your bubble, Bucklingham, but… I’m not going to be there tonight.
The audience is more than a little pissed at this as they obviously want their hero, Buck Dresden, to get his ten pounds of flesh from Arthur. They immediately begin booing this disappointing news with chants of “You’re a pussy!” and “Arthur sucks!” break out for the next several seconds. Soon they dissipate and every sheep in the Epicenter is once again watching Arthur on the SHOOTron.
Arthur Pleasant: You see, despite what those gambling addicts and dregs of society out there think, it’s not that I’m afraid of you. It’s just… I’m afraid for you. Ah, yes, Buckley… there’s a big difference between the two. You see, you look at me as the reason for you losing your home. And maybe other important things from the eventual ripple effect of what I did. But the truth is, Buckkake? The reason you lost your home, and will probably lose far more as the weeks progress… is you. Yes YOU, you fucking DOLT.
He pulls over the Sports Utility Vehicle he had been driving along a deserted patch of road. It looks like he’s somewhere in the Mojave. A place he had quickly identified with. Lonesome. Rough terrain. Dangerous. With piles of bodies buried in its past.
Arthur Pleasant: You looked through me before you even managed to barely survive me. All you give a fuck about is the World Heavyweight Championship. Or the Iron Fist Championship. Or the Shut Up and Fight Championship. Or…
… well, any championship, it seems. Without that trinket slung over your shoulder, you’re just miserable. “Don’t Give a Fuck, Buck”, I dub thee. You sulk and put out promos and Spits suggesting that you’re coming for whoever’s at the top, and you don’t give a fresh wet shit whose shoulders it is you’re standing on while doing it.
He sneers with contempt.
Arthur Pleasant: It’s time someone exposed you for the Villain you are now and always have been. So please, go after Bronson. Go after RAIKO. Go after my brother, if you’re actually that fucking stupid. It won’t change anything about you, Buck. If anything, it’ll only embolden what I’ve been saying you are all along.
A goddamn fraud.
See you soon, Buckles.
Oh, and how silly of me. I nearly forgot.
Here’s some kisses for the missus!
He takes his tongue and extends it to the camera of his phone, blurring the view on the SHOOTron in the process. His saliva drips down, his face manifesting behind it for the slightest of moments before the SHOOTron fades to black.
Eryk Masters: I am… disgusted.
Other Guy: I’m not really sure what Arthur’s end game is here, but he’s only poking the fully vertical, ready to tear your heart out grizzly right now.
Eryk Masters: With Arthur, you never know what his game is. End or beginning.
With the fans buzzing over Arthur’s words, we fade.
Justin Moreno Vs. C.K. Butcher
A shot opens on Ayumi Seppuku sitting alone in the VALOR dressing room, attention pointed to a closed-circuit television feed of the Ruination ring as the ring gets cleared from the preceding match – her colleagues NEMESIS, Lindsay Troy, and Pat Cassidy having just left the room to make the ring for their main event showdown with the Unholy Breedlove Empire.
Suddenly, a knock comes at the door.
Ayumi: What did you forget now, Lindsay?
Ayumi stands up, opening the door and a familiar face stares back at her – one that is NOT Lindsay Troy, NEMESIS, Pat Cassidy, or any other VALOR member.
Johnny Vignochi: Why hello, Ms… Seppuku. Mind if I come in?
You don’t need a microscope to see the hair on Ayumi’s neck stand up as BOSS Koga’s manager, the orchestrator of her friend Claire’s vicious beating, invites himself into VALOR’s dressing room.
Johnny smiles as he does – knowing full well that Ayumi can’t attack him; or risk being fired.
Ayumi: You have a balls coming here you sick fuck. After I rip your Yakuza errand boy’s arm out of its socket and beat him with it until he begs me for mercy – I’m coming after you next.
Johnny’s shark-tooth grin grows wider, revealing a jagged yellow mouth of cigarette stained teeth. He’s wearing a black and yellow track suit, and his long brown hair is thrown up in a high pony-tail.
Johnny Vignochi: That’s cute, Seppuku. Real fuckin’ cute. Now…here’s what happens next, champ. I want ya to listen real close here, Ayumi….You can beat Koga six ways to Sunday – I really could give a rat’s ass. Shit, the big weirdo would prolly like it. But what you’re NOT going to do? What you’re NOT going to do…is win that match at Revolution.
Ayumi visibly baulks at what Johnny Vig is saying.
Johnny Vignochi: What YOU are going to do is lay down, let Koga pin you clean, and then we’ll forget this whole… mess… ever happened. Koga will get his ‘victory’ and respect back with the Black Feng; he’ll return to Japan a legend – allowing me to market the SHIT out of him; and while your ego may take a hit you’ll survive here in SHOOT and go on to do great things in this company – I’m sure. Just not… this time.
Ayumi shakes her head in disbelief.
Ayumi Seppuku: After all that you and your Yakuza koshinuke have done? There’s NOTHING you could say to me that would make me even entertain the idea.
Johnny Vig chuckles and pulls out a phone from his pocket, thumbing through his contacts list.
Johnny Vignochi: Nothing I could say? Well… maybe not. But perhaps someone else could. Let me see now…where did I put that number again? Your friend had so much to say about ya. Ruthless broad, I tell ya. I know I wouldn’t wanna get on her bad side.
Ayumi looks visibly nervous now.
Johnny Vignochi: Funny thing about you, Seppuku, is that while you have a lot of new buddies here in SHOOT; you’ve also burned a LOT of bridges with old friends… friends who have known you for quite a while. It’d be a real, real shame if someone like me was to find one of these friends and they happened to give me some very interesting information about your past.
Ayumi’s look has gone from nervous to terrified. She is frozen in place, her eyes locked to the phone as Johnny Vig nods, pressing the screen and bringing the phone to his ear.
Johnny Vignochi: Ya see, Koga had no idea it was YOU who got his bath house shut down all those years ago. Not until a little birdie told me. That same little birdie told me somethin’ else about ya too…
You can hear a ringing sound through Johnny’s phone, waiting for the other line to pick up.
Johnny Vignochi:! What I know about you, Ayumi? It could DESTROY you. Destroy VALOR. You’ve been lying to us all to protect yourself and now you’ll need ME if you want to stay protected and THAT means you’ll do ANYTHING that I say.
A click on the other end of the line. A muffled voice on the other end of the line picks up.
Johnny Vignochi: Yep. Uh huh. Just like we talked about. Yep. Oh… yes, of course… she’s here right now. Ya wanna talk with her?
Johnny smiles and points the phone screen towards Ayumi. In big letters at the top sits a name that causes Ayumi to drop to her knees.
Johnny Vignochi: It’s for you.
The scene fades back to ringside where we see a very confused looking Dutch Harris and Scott Kamura, looking on…
Dutch Harris: I don’t even know how to describe the creepshow feeling I just got from Johnny V., but whatever he said to Ayumi must have really struck a nerve. She was rattled.
Scott Kamura: Yeah she was. I’m… hmm. This is very puzzling.
Dutch Harris: I hate to take away from that, but we’ve got to take you backstage once more, as it appears that… yep… okay… haha, wow… no, that… yep.
We go backstage to the loading dock where there’s an EMS standing by, back doors open. The lights are on, but no sirens, and you can hear screaming from far away.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS–”
The voice is Joshua Breedlove’s and he is PIPING HOT MAD. For some reason, he’s being taken out of the arena on a gurney!
EMS: Sir, you’ll need to stop flailing and to calm down. SIR. SIR!! PLEASE.
Breedlove: FUCK YOU, EMS. OUCH. How could the SHOOT Project ALLOW this to happen to one of its most popular and marketable stars?! This is BULLSHIT.
EMS: SIR. IF YOU DO NOT STOP FLAILING, WE WILL SEDATE YOU.
Breedlove: Okay, okay fine… BUT FUCK YOU JUDY. YOU SHOULD BE STRIPPED OF YOUR TITLE FOR THESE HEINOUS ACTIONS. YOU CAN’T TAKE A LITTLE HEAT? HM!? You can’t HANDLE the ILLUSTRIOUS BREEDLOVE?! Oh god… I’m quoting… I think I have a concussion.
Dramatically, Breedlove places the back of his hand across his forehead and lets out a magnificently large sigh.
Breedlove: WAIT. I’m supposed to have a match… I can’t… I can’t leave my men to their own devices!
EMS: Mr. Breedlove, if everything you’ve stated to this point is true, there is no way you are wrestling tonight. You are being taken to the hospital for further testing, and–
The words get cut off as the ambulance doors shut, but as they start to drive off, you can hear the unintelligible words of Joshua Breedlove, as he screams at EMS and finally a simple…