Without even waiting for the final part of the bell to ring, Nate pops to his feet and begins laying unprotected shin kicks to the side of Kitsune’s head! 

Dutch Harris: This is tough for me because I recognize that what Nate is doing is questionable, but I’ve gone on record as being anti-magic, so decisions…

Scott Kamura: Oh, get stuffed–we’ve all seen this play out!  Robideau can’t be gracious in victory, everything is an insult to him!!

The crowd starts booing heavily as Nate continues his assault–Kitsune puts his hand up to execute a sorcery play, but Nate grasps his fingers and twists them at an angle, locking his wrist!  The champion gives a withering look of contempt as he raises his free hand up, clearly intent on doing an unprotected hammer blow to knock the Purple One unconscious–

And the lights go out!!

Scott Kamura: What?!

Dutch Harris: Someone get facilities on the line, this is bush league!

Scott Kamura: I’m not sure that was any accident, Dutch!  We’ve both been around long enough to know that some people will use–

His words are cut off by the crowd as the light comes on–and AZRAITH DEMITRI is GRASPING NATE’S ARM!!  The fans explode as the still-eyepatched Azraith slowly pulls Nate away from Kitsune, both men’s arms shaking with pure exertion!  Nate, for his part, looks like he’s seeing a ghost, almost frozen in shock!!  He shakes his head, trying to get his bearings, and settles on trying to lay some fists into Azraith’s midsection!!

Scott Kamura: Azraith DeMitri is here, and he has unfinished business!! 

Dutch Harris: I tell you this much, if I beat on a dude like Az, I’d be sure he was in the ground when I was done–because if he even has a spark of life in him, shit like this is gonna keep happening! 

Azraith uses his free hand to grab Nate around the throat, and he actually lifts him, causing the champion to kick his legs in a panic!  Robideau claws at DeMitri’s forearm before finally catching his bearings and hammering his big fists into the bigger man’s elbow, weakening his grip!!  As soon as Azraith drops him, he turns inside his grip and lays into him with a elbow to the breadbasket, flush, causing DeMitri’s grip on his wrist to loosen just enough that he can wrench free!  He books it under the ropes, grabbing his title from the referee, as the crowd rains down boos on him!!

Scott Kamura: This may be a first!

Dutch Harris: Smart!

Scott Kamura: Nate Robideau has never backed down from a fight, no matter how ill-advised, and–

Dutch Harris: That’s a High-IQ maneuver and you know it, Kamura!

Nate pays the boos no mind as Azraith offers a hand to Kitsune, never taking his good eye off the Blackhawk.  The Champion points to Azraith and yells something we can’t hear, as the two men have a face off with an entire entrance ramp between them, the logo hits, and we fade to black.  

The eyes of CYBER Thunder Fist are locked on one of the closed-circuit televisions in the back of the Epicenter, showing shots of the crowd as the ring is cleared to make way for the second match of the evening.

Despite her match not kicking off for a little while yet, Thunder Fist seems prepared to fight.
Her face caked in white makeup and black accents, Thunder Fist’s lip curls in a slight sneer.

Voice: You think it should have been you out there instead of Kitsune?

Thunder Fist’s attention breaks as a familiar voice emanates from over her shoulder.

CYBER Thunder Fist: Belle…

She turns around to see Belle Grant standing several feet away, her arms crossed. The blonde-and-pink-haired fighter steps forward into the light of the hallway and drops her hands to her hips.

CYBER Thunder Fist: I’d make a “ringing your Belle” joke but it’s been so long since you’ve seen the ring I’m afraid you’d have forgotten what one looks like.

Belle takes another step forward, not saying anything at first; instead, she sizes her former tag partner up and makes a bemused sigh.

Belle Grant: Same ol’ Judy behind all that makeup. I have to admit, though, even I’m a bit surprised how quickly you went back to joining a different clown show when you realized you couldn’t cut it as a singles fighter.

Thunder Fist’s expression drops as she hisses in response.

CYBER Thunder Fist: Take. That. Back.

Belle Grant: Or, what? Judy? You’ll beat me up for telling you the truth? Again? I’m just… so over all of this. I just had to see this with my own eyes before I could truly move on.

CYBER Thunder Fist cocks her eye with a curious glance.

Belle Grant: Oh? You hadn’t heard? Banshee is heading back to London and I’m going with her. She’s making me her new apprentice…

Belle looks for a reaction from Thunder Fist and seemingly gets none. The fighter lowers her head and shakes it mournfully.

Belle Grant: We really could have done something special with the Pop Punks, Judy. I hope you find whatever it was Banshee and I couldn’t give you with these Cyber Army blokes. And maybe….

Belle trails off before letting out a short laugh and turning away from the scene.

Belle Grant: Nah. Forget it…

CYBER Thunder Fist scowls – now looking at the jagged pinks and blues on the backside of Belle’s bomber jacket. Belle lets something drop from her hand to the floor with a soft metal “ting” before walking away. As she does she begins to hum the tune to Neil Cicierega’s “Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny”

Once Belle is out of sight, CYBER Thunder Fist walks slowly over to the object dropped to the floor. She bends down and softly pulls up one half of a locket with an incomplete typed inscription on the inside:

-ENDS

-EVER

-AYS

CYBER Thunder Fist wraps her hand around the locket, remaining on the ground for a single beat, and then laying the locket back down where it had been dropped before standing back up and turning around the opposite direction and walking out of the sight of the camera.

Voice: Hah! It’s a Guzzlord!

Other Voice: That’s rude, Dan Dragon, I chew before I swallow. I do not guzzle.

Stepping into frame are Daihm Ferguson and the much larger, bulkier Chick Grillbreast who is leaning over Daihm’s shoulder as he wanders forward, holding his phone out in front of him. They are both skulking around the perimeter of the Epicenter with the sound of the night’s crowd thinly heard through the arena windows.

Daihm: No, it’s a Pokemon! A shiny Guzzlord. I just need to find the right ball to catch it.

Chick places a hand on Daihm’s forehead.

Chick Grillbreast: Are you feeling well? You are supposed to catch the ball, the ball can’t catch. It has no hands! POOR HANDLESS BALL! ARGH!

Daihm pushes Chick’s hand off of his forehead and points down to his phone as he shows Chick the screen of his Pokemon Go app. On it stands a creature in the distance with a spinning golden ball in the foreground.
 

Chick Grillbreast: NO! HE LOOKS LIKE HE EATS CARBS! Quick! Do something!

Daihm: Just watch.

Daihm uses his index finger to spin the golden Pokeball and throws it at the creature, causing it to get zapped into the ball. Daihm grips the edges of the phone as the ball wiggles back and forth several times before a chiming sound indicates a successful capture.

Daihm: YES!

Daihm jumps up, pumping his fist, and nearly clocks Chick in the face as he does. Chick dodges out of the way and grabs Daihm around the waist.

Chick Grillbreast: WHERE’D HE GO? IS THAT MAGIC?!??!

Daihm blushes as Chick puts him down on the pavement. Once firmly on the ground, Daihm points to his phone for Grillbreast to see.

Daihm: See, Chick, there’s lots of these things here. Want to go see if we can catch another one?

Chick wrinkles his forehead and thinks for a second before nodding.

Daihm: Which one do you want to go after?

Chicks scans the screen and makes a wide-eyed face as he sees a miniature-looking chicken creature.

Chick Grillbreast: This one! Go towards the chicken man so we can use our balls on him!

We find Daihm Ferguson and Chick Grillbreast walking along the Las Vegas strip as they continue to search for more Pokemon.

Chick Grillbreast: The chicken man vanished! Where did he go!?

Daihm flicks his finger at his screen, trying to catch a Furret.

Chick Grillbreast: NO FURRIES! ONLY CHICKIES!

Daihm lowers the phone and sees a frustrated and somehow … sad Chick who is pouting. The Dragon sighs and pats Chick calmly on the arm.

Daihm: We’ll find one, buddy. Just need to keep looking.

Suddenly, on the edge of the screen, a creature appears. It’s a Combusken.

Chick Grillbreast: CHICKEN? THAT LOOKS LIKE MY DINGDONG?!?!

Daihm and Chick begin to walk in the direction of the creature and, as they approach, Daihm hands the phone over to Chick who looks down in confusion.

Daihm: Your turn, buddy.

Daihm walks around behind Chick and reaches around his side to show him how to use the app. He grabs Chick’s wrist and gently guides his index finger down to the Pokeball as the creature stares back at the two of them.

The ball shakes twice before it “clicks.”

Daihm: Yay! You did it!

Chick: WHAT HAPPENS NOW? CAN I EAT THE PENIS CHICKEN?

“The Lights” Dan Stein steps out of his dressing room, completely prepared to make a run over to craft services, only to run head first into the hulking figure of Timothy Roy.

Dan takes an instinctive step backward, his back pressing against the door handle as he looks up into the eyes of the man who had dethroned him as Shut Up and Fight Champion at Master of the Mat one month prior.

Timothy Roy: Dan.

Dan Stein: Rooster.

Tim shakes his head and waves his hand.

Timothy Roy: I’ve…

Tim pauses.

Timothy Roy: That’s in the past.

Dan scoffs.

Dan Stein: Convenient for you, then. Though, I do have to say you certainly clean up well once you wash all that Blaze Claymore stink off of you.

Tim sighs and crosses his arms before, to Dan’s surprise, nodding.

Timothy Roy: You’re right. And… I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance to have a singles match after Master of the Mat. If we wouldn’t have gone on break I hope you know you were going to be my first challenge. I feel a bit sick to my stomach, honestly, that I’ll be the last person to hold the Shut Up and Fight title without even having a chance to defend it…

Tim trails off as he shakes his head.

Timothy Roy: Sorry. I don’t know what I was trying to do here…

Tim runs a hand through his shortened, now-blonde, hair and lets out a chuckle.

Timothy Roy: Let’s have a good match tonight, OK? Seriously. I hope I can give you my absolute best.

Tim extends his hand out to a genuinely surprised Dan Stein. Stein looks down at the hand for a moment before taking it into his own.

Dan Stein: Yeah, “let’s have a good match” and all that. You want my advice, as someone who had to take a year to find himself in SHOOT Project?

If you want to be anyone in this business, you never truly stop trying to find yourself. You can change your name, you can try to make amends for making someone’s life a living hell for a year, but you’ll never be satisfied with who you are at that exact moment. You’ll keep trying to be better than you were the day before.

Dan releases Timothy Roy’s hand.

Dan Stein: I was sixteen when I met your uncle in DIWF, maybe even younger. He had an aura around him that was unmistakable. Your uncle was a legend because no matter what he did or who he beat, he just kept trying to make himself…better. He made the Roy name what it is in the wrestling industry – royalty. You want to live up to that hype? You want to make yourself a legend?

Dan chuckles to himself.

Dan Stein: Maybe you should stop following the likes of Blaze Claymore, and start following the person in here.

Dan puts his finger, roughly, into Timothy Roy’s chest. Dan lowers his finger.

Dan Stein: I don’t know who you think you are, or what you’re going to end up doing or being, but if you aren’t true to yourself, you’ll end up like…

Dan stops himself. He takes a moment.

Dan Stein: You won’t like where you end up, Roy.

Dan pats Timothy Roy on his massive shoulder and walks away from the massive man, leaving Timothy Roy to stare down the hallway at him until the camera cuts.

Daihm Ferguson and Chick Grillbreast continue to have their faces glued to Daihm’s phone as various Pokémon continue to appear outside the various Gyms attached to classic Las Vegas landmarks.

Together they manage to capture Whoopers, Stunkies, and Licklillies; however, it is only after they successfully finish convincing a Cubone to come to them that Daihm looks up and realizes how far away from the Epicenter they’ve wandered.

Daihm: Oh… bollocks. Chick, I’m not sure where we’re at.

Chick furiously rubs Daihm’s screen as he tries to dominate a Machoke.

Chick Grillbreast: HE… HE’S EVEN SWOLER THAN ME! POKEY MANS, TELL ME YOUR SECRETS!!!

Daihm reaches over.

Daihm: Chick, let me have the phone for a second; I need to GPS where we’re actually at. I’ve never been to this part of the city.

Chick Grillbreast: LET ME PLAY! I WANT TO KNOW THE SWOLE-MON’S SECRETS!

Daihm: I’m serious, Chick! We’re stranded out here and I’m not sure how much battery I have-

Like clockwork, the phone shuts off.

Chick Grillbreast: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! TURN BACK ON!!!!!!

Daihm lowers his head and sighs, looking around again with a concerned look on his face as Chick hands him back his phone, pouting. The Dragon wraps his arms around his chest and shudders as Chick, now calmed down, looks around, confused.

Chick Grillbreast: Where is this place, Dan Dragon?

Daihm shakes his head.

Daihm: I’m not sure, but maybe we should just keep walking until we find someone who can tell us?

Chick points over to a lady across the street who makes an obscene gesture with her fist.

Daihm: NOPE! Not gonna do that – let’s just-

As Daihm is looking around, he catches a flashing “VACANCY” sign and begins to walk towards it as Chick follows. The pair look around nervously as the silence here is only punctuated by the occasional gunshot and sound of broken glass. Eventually the pair find their way to the front doors of what the sign says is the “Las Vegas Sin and Suites Motel”

Chick yawns.

Chick Grillbreast: Dan Dragon, I haven’t had enough protein today. Starting to get sleepy.

Daihm’s face sours as he motions for Chick to follow him inside. As the pair enter, a tall man with a greasy comb over and leisure suit smiles at them, a single gold tooth glinting against the single fluorescent light hanging above them. Daihm’s eyes flash to the individual rows of hangers behind the counter and sees only a single key there.

Chick walks up to the man behind the counter.

Chick Grillbreast: I REQUIRE A ROOM WITH TWO BEDS.

The man behind the counter smirks and winks.

Man: Sure ya do. But unfortunately…

He reaches behind him and pulls a key with a large, purple dangly tchotchke with the number “15” on it. He waggles it in front of the pair.

Man: We only offer SINGLE beds here.

Chick looks over at Daihm, confused. Meanwhile, Daihm is beginning to flush.

Chick Grillbreast: DAN DRAGON! YOU LOOK ILL! YOU NEED AN ICE BATH!

Chick reaches into his pocket and slams down a handful of dollar bills and reaches over to grab the key from the attendant. He quickly grabs Daihm’s arm and begins to pull him towards the hallway lined with motel rooms.

The hotel owner gives the two a side eye as Daihm tries to protest but Chick continues to yell at him about a “fever” and “stripping down” before Chick eventually throws open the door to room 15 and carries Daihm inside.

Man: Pssh. Newlyweds.

The roar of the crowd is long gone as Jamie Johnson, sweat-stained towel draped around his neck, smacks his fist against a cement wall lining an otherwise quiet quadrant of the Epicenter back hallways.

Voice: Keep it down, will ya?

Jamie looks up and locks eyes with Timothy Roy sitting on a folding chair with a cold compress against the side of his head.

Jamie scoffs but doesn’t move past the former Shut Up and Fight Champion. Tim gestures across to the other side of the hallway where another folding chair sits empty. He pauses, but the former Sin City Champion relents and sits down, dropping the towel around his neck to the floor with a loud *thwap*

Tim and Jamie stare at each other in silence for what seems like ages but is actually only a few seconds before Jamie speaks up. 

Jamie Johnson: Losing that match… fucking hurt. I walked in a champion, and walked back out in the past tense.

He sighs.

Jamie Johnson: Ugh. I’d say I was sorry about eliminating you or whatever, but you’re not new to this business, so I’m sure you understand. It sucks for you too, I know.

Timothy Roy: Days like today make me wonder just how familiar I really am with what it takes to be here. Your name is going to be synonymous with that belt… I’m just going to be a footnote  in the history of the Shut Up and Fight Championship. Last person to ever hold the belt. One defense. Zero wins.

Tim shakes his head and then

Timothy Roy: I appreciate you giving it all you had out there. Gives me something to work towards, I suppose. Gotta just… figure out how to get there. 

Jamie Johnson: Same to you, man. I think the right move is to keep working. Keep at it. You’ll get where you wanna be; I’ll get where I want to be. We’ll probably see each other again along the way.

Tim chuckles slightly.

Timothy Roy: You’ve got a bit of a head start on me, but I’ll catch up soon enough. Gotta make our predecessors proud somehow, right?

Jamie twitches, ever so slightly, at that line, but politely nods in response as Tim extends a fist, stretching his arm halfway across the length of the space that separates the two fighters.

Jamie considers it for a moment and returns the fist bump.

Tim nods and the two remain sitting in silence across from each other as the feed slowly cuts to black.