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Ruination 51



It’s show day! Finally, SHOOT Project has returned from break. And the cameras are set up where any cameras should be set up.


In the EPICENTER’s bathroom?!?!?


Loud, Aggro, Male Voice: DAN DRAGON! I’M GOING TO FIND YOU!


The door flies open as Chick Grillbreast storms in, wearing his Gold’s Gym A-shirt, spandex pants, shitty little boots, weight belt, nostrils flared, eyes bugged, and forehead sweating.




He stomps over to the first stall and slams open the door. Nothing. He slams on the second door. It’s locked.




He smashes against it once, twice, and on the third, the door violently smashes in to find two people locked in a lover’s embrace. They stop kissing and look in shock at their interrupter.


Chick Grillbreast: Jesus, making out IN HERE? First, IT’S CARDIO! I HATE CARDIO!


Chick turns around and smashes his fists on the sink, sending it off its piping and moorings and to the floor.


Chick Grillbreast: Second, I know sex is kind of unsanitary, but why would you wanna do it here? Do you know how much doodoo is in the air? Jesus. Get out. You two disgust me.


The two lovers get up off their shared toilet and leave the bathroom. Chick looks down at the last two stalls.


Chick Grillbreast: DAN ARE YOU IN EITHER ONE OF THESE… you know what, if he was, and he was being held there against his will, would he answer truthfully? No, Chick, he wouldn’t. Plus you’re build for this. You’re built for SMASHING!


Voice from inside stall: Look, don’t smash my door down, I’ll show you I’m not Dan Dragon, shit, no Daihm Ferguson. His name is Daihm Ferguson you dumbass.


A zipping sound can be heard, and then the stall door opens. Chick gets a look of nausea over his face.


Man in stall: See, it’s just me, a SHOOT Project stagehand.


Chick Grillbreast: Jesus, you could have at least flushed before you opened the door, man. Damn, do you have a stomach virus or something? Like, I think I’m gonna die.


Man in stall: I did flush. I had Indian for lunch. This was always going to happen.


Chick Grillbreast: USE SPRAY, GODDAMN.


The man rolls his eyes and leaves the bathroom. Chick shakes his head and goes to the last stall, whose door opens easily and is empty.


Chick Grillbreast: Hmm, Dan’s not in any of the stalls. He’s also pretty small, so maybe he’s hiding under those blue thingies in the pee things?


Chick heads over to what he clearly described as urinals. He heads over to the first one and reaches for the urinal cake until he realizes it’s a urinal cake and is probably hella unsanitary. He daintily purses his index finger and thumb and slowly reaches for the cake, but then pulls back. He repeats this five times until someone behind him clears his throat menacingly. Chick turns his head to find Felix Mullen, arms folded across his chest, tapping his foot.


Felix Mullen: What are you doing at my favorite urinal?


Chick Grillbreast: No, YOU’RE a… nal? Sorry, I call these pee things. I’m not nearly as nerdy as you. And you still work here?


Felix Mullen: YES I still work here. And you are screwing around with my favorite urinal!


Chick Grillbreast: I’m looking for my friend Dan Dragon though! He’s small, he might be under one of these blue things, but they’re so yucky because people like YOU pee on them with your carb-tainted piss!


Felix Mullen: Listen, I know you’re not very bright, but how can you think someone would be hiding underneath a urinal cake?




Chick goes to rip the urinal out of the wall, but Felix, maybe against his better judgment, jumps on his back.






Felix hops off Chick’s back, and the King of the Swole Bros dry heaves a bit.




Felix Mullen: You’re a psycho! Just, and wash your hands too.


Chick Grillbreast: I’m gonna get a whole ass shower before I get back to looking for Dan Dragon! FIX YOUR SOUL, BABY MAN.


Chick storms out of the bathroom. Felix exhales.


Felix Mullen: Ugh, finally.


Felix stands facing the urinal. He unzips his fly, places his iPod on top of the urinal, touches it playing Enya, “Orinoco Flow,” and then does the zen finger thing while relaxing his body while remaining standing.

BLOOD MONEY Vs. Lucha Fitness

Tag Team Match



A reporter for the SHOOT Project is setting up the chairs for today’s interview of SHOOT’s newest signee Savior Hawkins. As the reporter is setting the equipment and directing traffic, Savior can be seen on the outside making sure he looks professional for the interview that he was scheduled for. Savior has his dark blue casual long shirt with black dress pants and black dress shoes as he has a comb to put his hair back to make himself presentable. The reporter opens the door to inform Savior that the interview will be starting soon. Savior gets up and follows the reporter to an open area of cameras in front of him and two chairs with the SHOOT logo in the background. Both men sit on their chairs and begin the interview with the cameraman giving them the cue to start.

Reporter: Mr. Hawkins, Thank you for giving me your time as I was informed that you have been signed by SHOOT management to be part of the SHOOT roster. I want to get your thoughts on being signed by SHOOT.

Savior: You can call me Savior. I want to say that it is an honor to be part of the SHOOT roster. I saw you guys did your year-end awards so I imagine it was a busy night for you. But for the most part, it is just another place where I can wrestle and demonstrate my talent for the world to see who Savior is.

Reporter: Yes, very busy night for me as making sure production-wise was good as we had a few mishaps in the beginning but we made it through. So tell me Savior, how should the fans view you?

Savior: Well, that is a good question. I mean, to even properly answer that question I feel like it is better if my wrestling talent answers that question as when I perform in front of the fans, I perform in that ring like it is my last match. What you can see is someone who is going to put his emotions and effort in that ring and go out there and make sure I give these fans something to look forward to.

Reporter: ‘So would you say that you are a wrestler who likes to give the fans something to believe in as I notice your name is Savior so would you say you are a Savior of SHOOT?

Savior: I mean I would hope one day, I can be known as that but I am just a wrestler who loves to fly in that ring and put my body on the line to win matches. I just to be a wrestler who people can relate to and believe in.

Reporter: Now do you believe that maybe next year, your name could be mentioned as newcomer of the year?

Before Savior gets a chance to even answer the question, he sees a figure coming in and interrupting his interview and sees the figure march and take over the interview. The figure belongs to Lexi Gold. In her hand, she held a creepy doll with one of the eyes missing. She shoves the reporter away and rolls her eyes, disregarding the fact that she not only interrupted the interview but also the fact that Savior was there. She ignores his presence and instead looks down at her doll and sighs to herself


Lexi Gold: I’d like to thank myself for winning the award presented to me. I mean, who should I be thanking? Baez? The only thing he did well was being in the perfect position for my attack. Actually, now that I think about it, I should have won the damn award and not been runner up. I feel like that is a pity award, because they felt sorry for me.


Lexi squeezes her doll in frustration, then looks up at Savior as if it was his fault for her not winning.


Lexi Gold: Did I interrupt something important? It sure as hell doesn’t seem that way.


Savior can feel the intense stare at this woman as if he did something wrong to her. Savior returns a confused look to her and decides to calmly speak up.

Savior: So right…. Nice to meet you then. I mean you are currently interrupting something as I was scheduled to have this interview so SHOOT fans and management can learn about me. I mean congrats on winning the award and everything but like I do not know your name…


She extends out her hand, but as he goes to do the same her evil side shows and she pulls back and brushes her hair with her hand instead, letting out a smirk in the process.


Lexi Gold: I’m Lexi Gold and it’s not nice meeting you. You know, I couldn’t help but overhear what you had to say. You mentioned how you want to go out there and put on the best matches possible for the fans. Hearing that makes me feel like I’m looking in the mirror of my former self. I was just like you for years. I got tired of feeding the people with love, so I let evil in. My loyalty lies with my dolls, snakes and whatever nonhuman things I can make my own possession.

Savior can hear Julian asking Savior if he can just switch to talk to this woman but Savior tells Julian in his head to fucking calm down and let him handle her himself. Savior looks at Lexi in the eyes and speaks

Savior: Well, My name is Savior Hawkins and I say it is nice to meet you regardless of what you say because unlike you, I don’t let an ego get the best of me. And I see that you must love to carry your dolls a lot as it looks…. Nice…. Regardless of your loyalty, I am going to fight for them just like they will cheer for me because everyone deserves to be saved and everyone deserves to have someone to fight for them. While I do not know your reason on why you betray them, it doesn’t change the fact that what I do will not be dictated by you or your reason. At the end of the day, I am not scared of you or anyone on the roster as I am here to prove to everyone that I belong here and I will make sure everyone knows that!

Savior gives Lexi a serious look to see what she says


She chuckles, finding his response amusing for some reason.


Lexi Gold: Oh, honey, those words you speak of are so inspirational. Something you’d find out of a page. It is sickening, but go ahead and do your good deeds. Inspire others and shoot for the stars. Maybe eventually you’ll see the world differently, like I have. Until then, I hope you love surprises. I got plenty of them. I’m like a wind up Jack in the box. I will pop up from out of nowhere.

Savior can hear Julian being annoying as he wants Savior to be chaotic and rude to her as well as agreeing with Lexi’s points of being a hero versus being a villain. Savior simply tries to keep his composure and tells Julian to be quiet. Savior looks at Lexi and speaks.

Savior: Say what you want, I chose my path and you have chosen yours. Everyone makes choices and all I have to say is I hope you don’t regret it.

She raises her eyebrow. There is just something off about him. She can’t quite figure out what that was.


Lexi Gold: You’ve looked like you entered some sort of weird trance for a second there, yet people say I’m the weird one. Anyway, I have better things to do, than to be here with you all day.


Lexi gets out of her seat and attempts to walk off.


Before Savior can answer her, Julian tells Savior to let him at her so he can talk to her. Savior just snaps and looks at the empty left side of him and talks to the empty air where Julian stands.

Savior: Julian! PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP! God, you don’t even shut up, do you? Can’t even have a fucking conversation without your fucking smart mouth. Like damn!

Savior realizes he looks like an idiot and quickly leaves the interview spot leaving everyone behind. Savior feels embarrassed and frustrated that he lost his cool and mind cause of Julian. He quickly leaves the scene in preparation for his upcoming match, making sure no one sees him and interacts with him.





The rugged Irish landscape, a canvas of rolling hills and jagged cliffs, comes into view in the early morning light. The scene is shrouded in mist, giving it an ethereal, timeless quality. As the first rays of dawn break the horizon, they illuminate a solitary figure standing atop a cliff.


This is Archer Quincannon, a man whose very stance speaks of strength and discipline. He’s shadow boxing, his movements fluid and precise, a dance of power and grace against the backdrop of the rising sun. His fists cut through the morning air, each motion telling a story of a fighter sculpted by heritage and resilience.


The narrator’s voice, deep and resonant, breaks the silence: 


“In the land where legends are carved from the very earth, a new saga begins. Archer Quincannon, ‘The Fist of Eire,’ born of Ireland’s unyielding spirit.”


The scene shifts to show Archer engaged in a rigorous training regimen. He’s running along the cliff edges, his feet barely touching the ground, embodying the freedom and fearlessness of the wild landscape. He lifts heavy stones, muscles straining under the effort, a testament to his physical prowess and connection to the land.


With each scene, the narrator weaves the story: 


“Forged in the crucible of tradition, he channels the strength of his ancestors. A descendant of warriors, Archer stands as a bridge between the past and the present, a living embodiment of the spirit of the Emerald Isle.”


As the day wanes and the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Archer stands once again at the cliff’s edge. He gazes out over the sea, his eyes reflecting the determination and fire within. The narrator’s voice, now softer yet still carrying the weight of expectation, speaks: “A force like no other, he is ready to claim his destiny.”


The screen fades to black, and in bold, impactful text, the words appear: 


“The Fist of Eire” Archer Quincannon. Coming soon.




The wrestling arena is dimly lit. A single spotlight illuminates the center of the ring, where a microphone stand awaits. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, murmuring about the rumored debut of a new, enigmatic wrestler.


Eerie, otherworldly music begins to play. The lights shift, casting the arena in a soft, celestial glow.


Narrator: Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for a journey beyond the stars, a journey into the mind of a prophet.


Elijah Cassius Starborne makes his entrance. He is cloaked in a robe adorned with constellations and celestial symbols. His face is serene, almost trance-like. Disciples, dressed in similar, though less ornate robes, follow him, their eyes fixed on him with unwavering devotion.


Reaching the ring, Elijah ascends the steps deliberately. His disciples form a semi-circle around the ring, standing in silent reverence. Elijah enters the ring, stands at the microphone, and pauses, surveying the crowd with a piercing gaze.


Elijah Cassius Starborne: Children of the cosmos, I stand before you not as a mere mortal, but as a herald of the stars. I am Elijah Cassius Starborne, the chosen conduit of celestial wisdom. The universe has whispered its secrets to me, and I have listened.


The crowd listens, a mix of curiosity and skepticism in the air.


Elijah: In the boundless expanse of the cosmos, I have found truths that transcend your understanding. I have gazed into the abyss and returned, enlightened and empowered. My mission is sacred, my purpose divine. I am here to guide the lost souls, to enlighten the unenlightened, and to bring a new era of cosmic consciousness to this realm.


Elijah’s voice is hypnotic, his words weaving a spell over the audience.


Elijah: The ring is my temple, my battleground, my sanctuary. Here, I will demonstrate the power that flows through me. The stars have aligned, and my time has come. Those who oppose me will find themselves not just defeated, but transformed, awakened to a higher reality.


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


Elijah: Witness the dawn of a new age, an age where the mysteries of the universe unfold in this very ring. Behold the cosmic awakening of Elijah Cassius Starborne!


The music swells as Elijah lowers his arms. His disciples bow their heads in reverence. The spotlight fades, leaving the arena in a hushed darkness.


Narrator: The journey has begun. Will you follow the path of the stars?


The segment ends with the crowd murmuring, some in awe, others in disbelief, as the enigma of Elijah Cassius Starborne takes hold.



Singles Match



The cameras go to Kraft services, catering. Usually, it’s not a place you find certain musclebound members of the roster because they only serve chicken breast every once in awhile, but things are different today.




Chick Grillbreast charges into the catering area, out of breath because merely walking blows him up. He hates cardio, you see.


Chick Grillbreast: I have looked all over the world. ALL OVER THE WORLD! Maybe Dan just got hungry and fell asleep. He always liked his carbs, no matter HOW MANY TIMES I TELL HIM CARBS ARE BAD! ARGH!


Chick grabs a two-liter bottle of Coke and hucks it across the room. It smashes against the wall, spraying at a table of production assistants.


Chick Grillbreast: OOPS! SORRY GUYS! CARBS JUST MAKE ME ANGRY… but they can’t. Because if they make me angry, I’ll get knocked off the ball, and then BOOM! Dan will continue to go missing. I need to focus… FOCUS!


Chick stares at nothing in particular. He is dead silent except for his heavier-than-usual breathing, body dead still except for the beads of sweat rolling down his exposed skin. His stoicism sticks out so sorely that everyone else in the room, not just the people he sprayed with soda, but everyone in there catching a snack or a meal, wrestlers, production assistants, network associates, anyone. Finally, a figurative lightbulb goes off over his head.




Chick moseys down the catering line, looking at all the serving trays and the labels. He squints at each one for longer than a normal human being who can actually read should (it’s debatable if Chick can read or how well he can if he is literate). Spaghetti. Fried chicken. Roast beef with horseradish au jus. Haricot verts almondine. Finally, he comes upon what he was looking for.




Chick digs his hands into the tray, pulling out each individual serving, squeezing it until the innards come out, and then when Daihm invariably doesn’t pulsate out of the Scottish delicacy, he throws it over his shoulder and tries again. One bit plops on somebody. Chick recognizes the sound and turns around to see two orange-haired men and a raven-haired woman. The men, one an older man and another a teenager, are both wearing kilts. The woman is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.


Teenager: Da! Why is this bellend trashin’ our national dish?


Dad: I dunno, but I’m gonna give this reprobate a piece of my mind.


Chick Grillbreast: I’m sorry guys, I’m just looking for my friend who is also from Scotchland like you all seem to be. Why are you here anyway, did they just hire you or something? OH NO, THEY HIRED SCOTCHLAND PEOPLE TO REPLACE DAN DRAGON! NO!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!! DAMN YOU!!! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!!!


Mom: Aye, no, we’re not here to replace anyone, my darling. We just won a trip backstage to our favorite wrehstlin’ company. An’ now ya ruined it by befoulin’ our national cuisine.


Chick Grillbreast: Sorry, I’m just looking for my friend.


Teenager: Ya know what, Ma? I forgive this right salt, I do. He really cares for Daihm!


Chick Grillbreast: Thank you. Uh, and uh, if you ever wanna get swole, uh talk to me?


Dad: Aye! We’ll introduce ya to caber tossing! It’ll be pure dead brilliant, it will!


Chick’s face contorts as if it was the first time he’d ever heard those combinations of words together in his life. And, spoiler alert, it was. Chick backs away and scratches his head.


Chick Grillbreast: If he’s not in the haggis, where could he be? You know what, it’s the carbs. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN THE CARBS!!


Chick turns around and heads right back towards the spaghetti. He frantically digs both his hands in it, picking up mounds of it and screaming DAN! DAN IS THAT YOU? into the catering tray and into the mounds in his hands. His frantic search is only interrupted with a tap on his back and an annoyed voice.


Woman: Excuse me you big dumbass, I was going to eat that!


Chick is shocked so badly he throws the spaghetti up in the air. As he turns around, the noodles plop onto his head, giving him a starchy, sauce-covered wig. He finds himself standing face to face with one Madison Seton.


Madison Seton: Ugh, today was a carbo-load day because I need the energy to get a leg up on Miranda in the main event. And you ruined that, you big dumb ape.


Chick grabs the spaghetti off his head and sheepishly offers it to Seton with a half-hearted smile on his face.


Madison Seton: Ew. EW! Gross. Now I’m gonna have to eat mashed potatoes like some kind of toddler. Thanks, jerk.


Madison stomps off while the rest of the noodles slide off Chick’s head and shoulders.


Chick Grillbreast: Well, he’s really not here then. Oh well. I WILL NOT STOP SEARCHING UNTIL I FIND MY BEST FRIEND, DAN DRAGON!


Chick stomps out of Kraft services as the camera cuts to another part of the EPICENTER.



We fade into a locker room, a public one. Lucha Fitness is hanging out, toweling off sweat. Maximo sits, focused and stern, while Kid Lucha cracks open a beer and stands, seeming celebratory.


Kid Lucha: Yeah buddy! We GOT’EM! I told you Blood Money was going to be nothing. And the way you took homie out…WOO BABY!


Kid Lucha hands Maximo a beer as well, which he takes. He grins a bit, but he stays focused.


Maximo Fisico: Si hermano, we were successful and we looked damn good doing it. 


Kid Lucha: Fuck yeah baby! Fuck yeah!


Kid Lucha kills his beer and goes over to a pink and green LUCHA FITNESS® cooler (now available on and grabs another beer for himself. Maximo snickers a little at his friend, but he only sips his beer, staying focused.


Maximo Fisico: Remember, though, that was only goal uno. We now need to make some kind of impact. Something grande. Muey, muey grande. Regardless of how good we looked doing it, beating Blood Money is not enough.


Kid Lucha sits across from Maximo, sipping his beer and getting a little more serious.


Kid Lucha: So, what do we do?


A nasty smile forms on Maximo’s lips.


Maximo Fisico: We’re going to stay for Revolution, hermano


Maximo holds up his beer. Kid Lucha smiles and cheers him.


Kid Lucha: Okay baby!


Six Man Tag Match




We head backstage to find Lennox Ferguson and Josh Johnson walking side by side down the halls of the Epicenter. The pair are both dressed in business casual, as if they had just come from some big meeting.

Lennox hastily pulls at his tie while Josh slides off his suit jacket, placing it loosely over the crook of his right arm.

Josh Johnson: Damned bureaucrats.

Lennox simply scowls, his eyes looking slightly red.

The pair proceed another couple of steps before Josh stops and turns, holding his left arm out to pause Lennox. The Ox looks up, slightly confused.

Josh Johnson: You okay, man? I mean… if you need more time.

Lennox closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Lennox Ferguson: No. This is what I need. To feel like I am at least doing something. But Jesus what a mess… on top of everything we’re getting boned by insurance and by legal counsel. They’re saying we need to be prepared for possible litigation from Daihm? IF he’s found alive? What a feckin’ callous… he would never.

Josh sighs and moves his left arm up to place a hand on Lennox’s shoulder.

Josh Johnson: Look. Yes… things are a bit messy right now, but when haven’t they been? You’re just less… removed than before. But I can count on you to handle this, right?

Lennox looks away.

Josh Johnson: I can hardly imagine what this must be like for you. Even though I know Jamie and Jack can handle themselves, a father always worries. So believe me when I say that whatever it is you need from SHOOT? It’s yours, but for this to work?

Lennox locks eyes with his boss.

Josh Johnson: If you’re going to be representing SHOOT in an official capacity, I need to know that you can keep a level head. At least… you know, when we’re meeting with our insurance company.

Josh lets out a wry smile, trying to break the tension, as Lennox chuckles and nods. Josh removes his hand from Lennox’s shoulder and motions for them to keep walking.

Josh Joshnon: So… what’s it going to be Lennox? You officially back on the job?
Lennox’s eyes narrow, his face tensing up and his eyes darting from side to side and up to the ceiling, seemingly looking for something as he grits his teeth slightly, but just for a moment, and then relaxes. The quick flash of anger passes as quickly as it arrived, yet a steely coldness is reflected in the SHOOT Project Chief of Staff’s eyes as he follows behind his boss.

Lennox Ferguson: Yeah. I’m back.



Dutch Harris: I’m getting word from the back that Mary Kelly has run into SHOOT Project’s new signing, Elijah Cassius Starborne. 


Scott Kamura: This dude gives me the heebie jeebies.


The environment is dimly lit, giving a slightly mysterious ambiance. The camera focuses on Mary Kelly and she stands with a microphone in hand.


Mary Kelly: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with Elijah Cassius Starborne, the enigmatic figure who intends to enlighten us all about his purpose here.


Starborne enters the frame, flanked by several followers dressed in attire similar to his, but less ornate. Their faces are obscured by hoods and masks..


Mary Kelly: Elijah, the wrestling world is buzzing with questions about you and why you’re here. Can you tell us more about… all of this?


Elijah Cassius Starborne: Mary, what you see before you is not just an alliance and not a traditional “wrestling stable”; it is a congregation of enlightened souls. We are ‘The Celestial Order,’ a collective united in our quest for cosmic truth and higher understanding. Each member of this order has been chosen by the stars themselves, guided to walk a path illuminated by celestial wisdom.


Mary nods, maintaining her composed demeanor.


Mary Kelly: And what is the ultimate goal for The Celestial Order in the wrestling world?


Elijah: Our goal transcends the mere concept of victories and championships. We are here to elevate consciousness, to show the masses a glimpse of the greater truths that lie beyond their understanding. In this ring, we shall demonstrate the power and enlightenment that comes from aligning with the cosmos. The Celestial Order is not just a group; it is a movement, a cosmic awakening.


The followers of The Celestial Order nod in agreement, their eyes fixed on Elijah.


Mary Kelly: How will this translate into your approach in the ring? What can your opponents expect?


Elijah: Our approach is one of harmony with the universe, but make no mistake, Mary, any who stand against us will feel the full force of the cosmos bearing down upon them. We are not mere wrestlers; we are celestial warriors, and our opponents will either join our awakening, respect our enlightenment, or be left in the shadows of their own ignorance.


Elijah’s eyes glint with intensity, and his followers echo a soft, eerie chant.


Mary Kelly: Thank you, Elijah. It’s clear that The Celestial Order is here to make a profound impact. Back to you.


The camera lingers for a moment on the haunting image of The Celestial Order before cutting back to the ring.


Scott Kamura: Heebie. Jeebies.



Singles Match



The mailroom. Yes, you guessed right; it’s another Chick Grillbreast Searches for Daihm Ferguson segment. And Chick barrels into the room like a toddler on a sugar rush, crashing into a mail cart, sending it across the floor, letters flying everywhere.




He looks around the mailroom to see several workers within glaring holes through him.


Mail Worker #1: C’mon, we didn’t even get a chance to look through that mail yet! We’re gonna have to be here for overtime!


Mail Worker #2: Don’t you like overtime, man?


Mail Worker #1: Well, sometimes, but tonight my daughter has a dance recital.


Chick Grillbreast: Oh, uh, sorry, mail… man?


Chick starts to pick up all the letters he sent flying in the only way Chick Grillbreast can – poorly. He picks them up and drops them and twirls around in harried fashion, all his exposed skin turning beet red.


Mail Worker #2: It’s alright, it’s alright. Let us handle it. I got nothin’ to go home to tonight anyway.


Chick Grillbreast: You mean you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend or even a friend?


Mail Worker #2: Nah, but it’s okay. Life deals ya a shit hand sometimes.


Chick Grillbreast: You see, Mister, I’m SO MAD because my best friend, I guess my only friend in the world, Dan Dr… no, Daihm Ferguson. He went missing. And I’ve been looking for him and I couldn’t stop the bad people from taking him. I messed up. I always mess up. I couldn’t protect Daihm. I destroyed the set of a novelty talk show over in PRIME and then got banned from PRIME when I punched the King Cake Baby again. I busted up the men’s bathroom for the talent and I made a mess of the commissary, and for what? It just makes me SO…


Chick collapses onto the floor, still seated but deflated.


Chick Grillbreast: …sad.


Mail Worker #1: Daihm Ferguson? Oh, that must make you Chick Grillbreast then?


Chick perks up a little.


Mail Worker #1: Sorry, I don’t follow the fed, or any wrestling. I just work and then I have my family. My real passion is college basketball, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, someone left this here for you.


The mail worker grabs something out of a cubby and hands it to Chick, who looks at it intently. It’s not in an envelope. It’s just a thick piece of white cardboard with a piece of a mask attached to it.


Daihm Ferguson’s mask.


Chick Grillbreast: No.


The note reads in red permanent marker, or at least Chick hopes it’s permanent marker: “WALK AWAY. NOW.”


Chick Grillbreast: NO!!!!!


He hops to his feet and goes to slam his fists down on a table before he realizes he’s made enough of a mess. 


Chick Grillbreast: I’m sorry about the mess, guys. I… I need to get outta here.


Chick begins to step away but then pauses and looks around cautiously as he intentionally, but somberly (because even when he’s contemplative, he still hates cardio) walks out of the mailroom as the camera cuts to the ring for the main event.

Miranda DC Vs. Madison Seton


Singles Match