Zenith 015

The shot opens inside the Pinnacle, deep in the backstage hallway. The building is already alive. Crew members move quickly in every direction — production assistants calling cues, camera operators adjusting equipment, the low hum of preparation filling the air. The distant sound of the crowd seeps through the walls, a constant reminder of what waits beyond the curtain.

Through it all, Yorinobu Sakai walks forward. No music. No announcement. Just the steady rhythm of his footsteps against the concrete floor. He is dressed simply — a dark overcoat resting over a plain white shirt, black trousers pressed clean, his small duffel bag carried at his side. Nothing about him demands attention, yet eyes begin to follow him as he passes.

Some recognize him. Some are just now learning. The upset. The rematch. The opportunity. He does not acknowledge any of it. His gaze stays forward. Focused. Measured.

The camera tracks alongside him now, catching the calm expression on his face. There is no visible nerves, no outward intensity — just a quiet stillness that seems to separate him from the chaos around him. A young lion walking through unfamiliar territory. But no longer uncertain.

As he turns a corner, the noise of the arena grows slightly louder. A muffled wave of sound rolls through the hallway — the early energy of a crowd beginning to rise. Yori slows. Only slightly. Just enough to feel it. His eyes shift, almost imperceptibly, toward the direction of the arena entrance.

He knows what that sound means. He knows who waits for him on the other side of it. Izzy Sia. The name does not need to be spoken. It is already there. Waiting.

Yori exhales quietly through his nose, shoulders rising and falling once as he centers himself. Then he keeps walking. The camera moves behind him now, following as he heads toward the locker room area. Staff members step aside without being asked. Conversations lower as he passes, as if the moment carries a weight people can feel but not quite explain. Not fear. Not pressure. Something else. Purpose.

He reaches the locker room door and stops. His hand rests against the handle. For a moment, everything around him continues — footsteps, voices, movement — but he remains still. Eyes closed. One breath in. One breath out.

When his eyes open again, the stillness sharpens into focus. No hesitation. No doubt. Only readiness. He opens the door and steps inside.

The camera holds on the hallway for a moment longer as the distant sound of the crowd swells just a little more. Tonight, the journey continues. And this time, it leads to the champion.

Exploding pyros and gold and black lights bring us into Zenith 015, and the Pinnacle is PACKED. The fans are on their feet as the camera pans the arena, before coming to a rest on the ringside commentary table where Eryk Masters and Jason Johnson sit.

Eryk Masters: Ladies and gentlemen, we are LIVE! From the PINNACLE! In the mecca of the Western hemisphere, New York City, New York! And SHOOT Project has out-done itself again with a card for the ages! I'm Eryk Masters, accompanied in the booth by my broadcast partner, Jason Johnson, and tonight? We find out who's going to the FINALS of Master of the Mat!

Jason Johnson: We've got an exciting evening of nonstop action scheduled, Eryk, and you're right. Tonight we answer the question…who will compete to be christened Master of the Mat, one of SHOOT Project's most illustrious tournaments?

Eryk Masters: Diamond Del Carver! Jester Smiles! Azraith DeMitri, Trey Willett, Loco Martinez! We're talking HISTORY, Jason, we're talking LEGENDS. These are just some of the folks who have won the Master of the Mat tournament in years past…I call that pretty good company.

Jason Johnson: No doubt. We're down to four semi-finalists, and I don't know which match to be more excited for. Jamie Johnson will face off against Ricky Tenet while Madison Seton will do battle against the despicable Arthur Pleasant!

Eryk Masters: And let's not forget the tag team semi-finals, Jace. World Warriors versus Planet MF'er? X-Calibur and Michael Draven are a FORCE. And what about former World Champion IAM teaming with the sensational rookie Josiah Hudson? Who had THAT on their bingo card?

Jason Johnson: Speaking of rookies, first thing's first; Yorinobu Sakai, the phenom from Japan, will get to test his mettle against Premier Champion "Kamatayan" Izzy Sia again in tonight's opener…this time for the gold! I mean from top to bottom, this card is STACKED. SIX high octane action-packed matches! And the stakes couldn't be higher! Does it get any better than this?

As if on cue, the lights dim and NC-17's vulgar entrance music, "Gnarly" by Kodak Black, hits the PA system to a chorus of raucous boos.

Eryk Masters: You just jinxed it.

The AEGIS security team springs into action. Agents at ringside form a line blocking the ring, and a number of agents file out of either side of the entrance way, ready to apprehend NC-17 once he appears.

Jason Johnson: For those unaware, NC-17 assaulted SHOOT Project World Heavyweight champion Corey Lazarus while he was cutting a promo and brazenly stole the championship belt, two weeks ago at Zenith 014! Despite AEGIS' best efforts, as of right now they have NOT been able to locate NC-17 OR the championship belt. But all that may be about to change.

Eryk Masters: He CAN'T be stupid enough to show up at the Pinnacle with it on his person…can he?

Jason Johnson: I wouldn't put anything past him. He's…a character to say the least.

But NC-17 does NOT appear at the top of the ramp. Rather, the VideoWall crackles to life, and we find the villainous superstar…in a hospital room? The SHOOT Project World championship is hefted over his shoulder, a pair of magenta Oakleys adorning his face, and he's holding a six-pack of Yuengling. Despite not being physically present at the Pinnacle, he's dressed for action in his wrestling gear of neon green and pink tassels and sperm illustrated wrestling tights. Behind him is a sick little boy in a hospital bed, hooked up to a breathing apparatus.

Johnny Vig stands bedside, trying to coax the kid to look at the camera.

Johnny Vig: Look, Timmy! You're on TV!

NC-17 hits him with two cheesy thumbs up before turning back to the audience.

NC-17: New York Shitty! I can almost smell the Pinnacle through the camera, haha! Sorry I couldn't be there tonight, AEGIS, but now that I'm the World Champ, I've got all these responsibilities or whatever! Kinda sucks. Tonight me and John-boy are at a children's hospital, fulfilling these kids' last dying wishes—to get to hang out with a bonafide SHOOT Project legend…i.e, ME. Whaddya say, Timmy?

Johnny directs the young boy to the camera, who looks like he's about to cry.

Timmy: I want Corey Lazarus!

NC-17: What was that? You want an autograph? I gotcha, kid!

Johnny Vig produces a marker from his shirt pocket, removing the cap with his teeth like it's a grenade before handing it to Teen. The cream of obscene proceeds to misspell his own name on the kid's forehead. The Pinnacle audience, already booing, begin to jeer even louder. The vibe is definitely uncomfortable.

Eryk Masters: Alright, this is unnecessary and disgusting.

Jason Johnson: Yeah, I'm not amused.

NC-17: There ya go, junior.

The mohawked miscreant stands back to admire his handy work, before pulling a green bottle from his six pack.

NC-17: Here, ya look stressed kid. Have a cold one on me!

Teen offers the kid a beer but snatches it away before the boy is able to touch it.

NC-17: SIKE! Only six of these lil' buddy, that's barely enough to catch a buzz! And doin' all this charity work, well, it makes a fella thirsty! Speakin' uh thirst, I can only imagine how thirsty AEGIS is to get this championship back…sad to say, I'M callin' the shots now. And now that I'm kingmaker, I'm havin' a helluva time thinkin' of somebody even worthy enough to SNIFF my jock-strap, nevermind get a shot at this here title. Whaddya think, John-boy? Who should we give a title shot to?

Timmy the sick kid sits up weakly.

Timmy: Corey Lazarus! He's the real champ! You only stole it from him!

The Pinnacle pops LOUD, and it looks like Johnny and Seventeen can hear it. Johnny shrugs, pointing at the camera.

Johnny Vig: He's got a point, Teen. I mean, technically…

NC-17: Technically I already kicked his ass and took his lunch money. Ooh, here's an idea…what about…Chad Kyle?

There is a mixed reaction from the crowd. Love or hate him, there's something special about seeing him take another beating.

Johnny Vig: He is in the main event tonight.

NC-17: He is, isn't he? Or that fatass Scottie Barnes? Wait, I know! How about…Jada Kaine? Do we know what retirement home she's living in? The first title defense should always be the easiest. We gotta build my reign up, make me look legitimate, ain't that right Timmy?

Johnny Vig: Agree with him, Tim, don't make me unplug your life support.

Before the debacle can go on any further, "Slum Planet" by 3TEETH hits the PA, drawing a second round to the chorus of boos throughout the building.

Eryk Masters: As if this couldn't get any worse…

Jason Johnson: …here comes Arthur Pleasant…

The GODSEND: Alright, alright. Cut my music, please.

The music dies down but the booing intensifies.

The GODSEND: Teen! Just pull Timothy's plug, already. You'll be doing his family, and more importantly, me, a huge favor of relieving such a burden.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The GODSEND: But hey, I'm not entirely without remorse for that jaundiced little shit. If you need someone to read his last rites, I can be there in a few moments. It may be a post-mortem reading, however. You know what they say, though, better late than never!

Eryk Masters: Oh my God… come ON.

Jason Johnson: Is there no depths, dot dot dot?

Arthur continues walking towards the ring, a smirk on his face. Like he's going to enjoy every second of what he's about to say or do.

The GODSEND: Anyway. I must say, that idea I incepted turned out to be a pretty good one. I hope CoreBore agrees. I mean, Teen looks just positively stunning with my… err, his… World Heavyweight Championship! A million times better than Lazzy Boy, too. Amirite or amirite?! Well done, sir! Bravo!

Pleasant starts clapping but is quickly interrupted. The Pinnacle roars in approval at the sound of their voice…

Corey Lazarus: Whoa whoa whoa! Easy there, tiger!

Arthur turns around to check the entrance curtain, finding it motionless.

The GODSEND: Aw shucks. Are we a little too timid to come out and play? Mm?

Corey Lazarus: My eyes are up here, babe.

The cameras search the Pinnacle crowd before focusing on Corey Lazarus, dressed to the nines in a custom tailored dark silver three-piece, standing in the audience, walking down the steps leading out of Gate 12 and toward the ring. The spotlight catches him as AEGIS floods in from behind, flanking him and forming a human shield from the fans that rush to get near.

The GODSEND: Ohhh I see now! You're reverting back to your role that you perfected in "Man With The Yellow Pant Leg 2: The Stain"! Method acting much, aren't we? Tsk. You don't HAVE to get too deep into the role right now, though. Especially with all those extras wearing AEGIS uniforms behind you!

Corey chuckles, taking another step down.

Corey Lazarus: That's a really interesting choice of words, Artie. I mean that. Sincerely.

The sarcasm drips from Laz's tongue, as one AEGIS guard places his hand on Corey's chest. The real World champion pauses, looking down the step at the offender.

Corey Lazarus: You have about three seconds to remove your hand.

On the VideoWall, NC-17 and Johnny bicker back and forth as hospital guards rush into the room, the sapling manager in his cheap suit desperately trying to buy some time for Teen to keep at it.

NC-17: Someone get that trash out of there! This is THE CHAMP'S time to shine, and I…!

Corey Lazarus: Would somebody shut him the fuck up, please?

Lazarus snaps his fingers and the audio is cut from NC-17's feed. His mouth moves as words fly a mile a minute, vulgarities galore no doubt, and Laz scoffs as he takes a seat on the step behind him.

Corey Lazarus: You know, a lot has changed in the world since I first stepped foot in that ring down there, currently occupied by the walking talking vergüenza número uno we call Artie Peeps. At one point, folks? I'd have applauded such a proactive attitude as what NC-17 has shown. Reaching out, taking what's mine, that sort of thing. Hell, there was a time in this business when I'd have been so gung ho about the little conspiracy the two of you concocted, this pusillanimous plan from a pair of precious pissants, that I may have even offered my services. That time, like so many others, is just another vision in my rearview, because there's a bit of a secret meaning to all of it, chief. This "lie"…

Corey forms the quotation marks with his fingers, flashing his Trademark Devilish Grin as his focus drifts from the VideoWall over to Arthur in the ring.

Corey Lazarus: …and I'm getting real sick and fucking tired of using my words to get the point across. Because some folks? Well, they just don't understand words, dig? You can lecture them, you can engage in a discussion, but it's of no goddamn use to waste what few precious breaths we have left on this planet trying to explain such an abstract concept of attainment.

The GODSEND goes to speak, but Corey rises back to his feet, holding up a hand that seems to silence Pleasant before he can form the words.

Corey Lazarus: The adults are talking, squirt, so take another sip of your CapriSun, sit back, and shut your fucking mouth.

Arthur laughs in the ring, lowering the mic and holding out his hands. On the VideoWall, Vig has forced the hospital security out of the room, temporarily barricading the door with Timmy's bed while NC-17 rattles on in silence.

Corey Lazarus: Earlier today, ladies and gentlemen, I sat through a four and a half hour meeting with all the top brass in this company. Deal, Eddie, a gaggle of names that even the L-A-Z didn't recognize…and we all weighed in on the best way to handle this little dilemma of ours. There were talks of lawyers, litigation, law enforcement, you name it! At around the fourth hour mark, after keeping my mouth shut while a bunch of soft-palmed pencil pushers tried to decide the best course of action? I spoke up, and I said Deal, babe, this isn't some electronics distribution operation that you're running, it's the top-of-the-line elite destination for the great sport of professional wrestling, and while some of the old ways just aren't kosher in this day and age? The heart of it all, of letting the fight happen, still keeps the blood flowing.

Corey points down to Arthur in the ring and then over to the visage of NC-17 on the VideoWall.

Corey Lazarus: See, you two? The both of you stole my fucking property, and the Realest of the Deals still owes me a favor or two, dig? With that in mind, we chatted about the terms a little bit, and we came to a conclusion. So right here, right now, with the gods and the Faithful as witness…

Corey reaches into the pocket of his sportscoat, producing a familiar pair of silver-rimmed Ray Bans. The crowd roars in approval as he slides them over the top of his head, carefully over the black and red eye patch.

Corey Lazarus: …I am calling your asses out. Tonight.

Lazarus lets the microphone hang at his side, clearing his throat as the crowd starts to chant.

"FUCK 'EM UP, COREY, FUCK 'EM UP!!"
**CLAPCLAPCLAP**
"FUCK 'EM UP, COREY, FUCK 'EM UP!!"
**CLAPCLAPCLAP**

The Hollywood Kid holds up a hand, unfazed by the chorus around him.

Corey Lazarus: I know what you're thinking, boys, and you're right. The moment you step foot in this building, Teensy, you're thinking AEGIS will swarm you like a flock of triple-chinned manosphere types at a new Pokémon release, and they'll take away what's never been yours. And you, Artie? Even someone as cocksure as yourself has to understand that all it takes for Sammy to forget you exist is a fully charged iPad with Cocomelon on repeat, so the bargain I struck with Deal is something that's going to benefit all of us.

Corey steps forward again, the AEGIS guards blocking his path parting to the side.

Corey Lazarus: Because I just know that there's a few people in that locker room that would looooove to get their hands on either one of you…

Arthur cackles in the ring, daring Lazarus to enter while NC-17 tries to open the hospital room window as Vig pushes all of his featherweight body against the door.

Corey Lazarus: …so let's keep this a sporting affair, and I'll find one of them that's ready and willing, cool?

Corey pauses as the Pinnacle roars in approval, soaking it in.

Corey Lazarus: Teen? You have yourself a brief pass, free of charge, to get your unwashed, acne-laden ass into this building, and Artie Peeps? You're getting exactly what you keep saying you want, no matter how often reality proves otherwise, because tonight? When you're staring up at those lights and feeling that churning sense of regret that always follows picking a fight with the Last Damn Icon? There'll be this little voice inside your heads, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

Laz cups the microphone, lowering his voice to a calm whisper.

Corey Lazarus: (whispering) Hey…that's just life. Deal with it.

Corey slides the Ray Bans down over his eyes, holding the mic away from his face as he shouts.

Corey Lazarus: (shouting) ROCK! AND! FUCK! ING! ROLL!!

Lazarus drops the mic to the steps below, blowing a kiss to the ring before firing off a fingergun. Arthur mockingly applauds from the ring as NC-17 is seen climbing out of the hospital room window on the VideoWall, Vig finally succumbing to the horde of hospital security bursting through the doorway.

Eryk Masters: NC-17 and Arthur Pleasant will be teaming up to take on Corey Lazarus and a mystery partner! And Zenith 015 is just getting started!

Arthur shakes his head, grinning with sinister glee at the challenge laid out, and calmly exits the ring.

Jason Johnson: We're so close to the Master of the Mat finals, Eryk, so let's stop wasting time and get on with the show!

Vito Valentino nods his head at the monitor in the Gorilla position. The Premier Championship match has come to a close mere moments ago.

Vito Valentino: Now that's what I need right now.

He stares ahead at the monitor.

Vito Valentino: No bullshit. No fuckin' nonsense. Just a dogfight with the toughest pit bull on the block.

The PREMIER Powerhouse nods, reaffirming his own thoughts that have been spoken into existence.

Vito Valentino: I see you, Yorinobu Sakai. I see you.

Looking back at Real Deal with his headset on, Vito nods in his direction with a smile on his face. There's a moment of mutual realization where Real Deal nods back.

It's on.

The backstage hallways of every venue always feel like a damn maze to sometimes even the most veteran of competitors. The younger half of the Moonshiners tag team isn't the one who is lost, however. Josh Kaine stops dead in his tracks, a broad smile spreading over his face as he recognizes a familiar face from his rookie days.

Josh Kaine: Maggie-fuckin'-McIntyre as I live and breathe, the Banshee herself! Holy shit, what the hell—

Maggie McIntyre: Oh my god, the Heir to Valhalla himself. Don't you ever get tired of living in your mom's shadow? I mean, you're basically making yourself heir to a bar if you're still using that moniker.

Josh barks out a laugh.

Josh Kaine: Ain't gone by that in a while, Miss Maggie.

She grins at him.

Maggie McIntyre: Good because it was awful! But holy hell, just call me Maggie. Hey, have you seen my husband anywhere?

They share a chuckle over Josh's tendency to be overly polite, especially with women around.

Josh Kaine: Okay, okay, just Maggie. But honestly nah, ain't seen him. Too busy keepin' track of my own tag partner. Aaron's always movin' these days.

Maggie McIntyre: Oh well, looks like I get to keep looking. I don't miss getting lost in these damn mazes in the venues. Good luck in your match tonight!

Josh grins.

Josh Kaine: Thanks a bunch, Maggie. Good luck with findin' Michael. Best bet's to look for X or Maddie Seton, he'll be around them, I'm sure. Any hope of you comin' back? You were hellacious in the ring, you got shit done.

Maggie shakes her head.

Maggie McIntyre: I thought about it for a while, but honestly? Seeing Mike actively compete again is enough for me. I really don't miss getting thrown around by people four times my size, besides…I've got three kids and I don't wanna chance getting injured anymore. That, and I've got my apparel line to keep me busy.

Josh Kaine: Sad to hear it, but don't blame ya none. Three kids though? Yeah, you definitely got your hands full. Wouldn't mind meetin' 'em someday.

Maggie McIntyre: I think we can arrange that someday soon, you guys still in Boston?

Josh Kaine: Nah, got a house outside the city—Ma's stayin' with me while her wife is overseas.

Maggie McIntyre: Oh wow, that's gotta be fun.

Josh Kaine: It ain't so bad, Ma's settled down a lot since the EWA closed. My sister Jesse helps with takin' care of her, her health ain't so great anymore.

Maggie McIntyre: I mean, I never was Sinn's biggest fan, but I'm sorry to hear that.

Josh Kaine: Nah, don't be sorry. She might be in rough shape but Jada ain't gonna go until she's good'n ready. Devil's got a hell of a fight on his hands if he tries before then.

Maggie McIntyre: You're not wrong there. Well, I gotta run and find Mike. See ya!

The pair share another smile before Josh and Maggie part ways, one headed to his own locker room and the other in search of her husband as we cut back to ringside.

Madison Seton closes the driver's side door of her ride after she steps out. She has an important night tonight in facing Arthur Pleasant in the Master of the Mat tournament. She pauses for a moment at the trunk of her car, pulling the duffel bag containing her ring gear out. The statuesque brunette shoulders her gear bag, locks her car and makes her way to the locker rooms.

Thankfully, it's a shorter walk from her assigned parking space and she makes it to her locker room in no time at all. She pushes the door open, tossing the bag onto one of the benches before making her way to the bathroom. The room is otherwise empty as she vanishes behind the restroom door.

It isn't but a moment or two later that her locker room door opens! There is only a flash of black fabric as this mysterious figure snatches the gear bag from the bench and is gone from the locker room just as quickly as they appeared.

Madison exits the bathroom a few moments later, drying her hands with a few paper towels as she stops dead in her tracks. Something is wrong but she cannot tell what it is just yet. Her eyes scan the room, turning to look behind her briefly before her gaze moves back to the door. …it isn't shut all the way. Funny, she could have sworn she closed it. A few steps forward and her arm extends to push the door firmly shut.

Then a downward glance to the bench and Maddie's expression is pure confusion.

Madison Seton: Where the fuck is my gear bag??

We cut back to ringside.

Abigail Chase is with Holden Nobody, who looks a little flustered, despite the UWA and Resistance World Championships on his shoulder. He's dressed down, frayed black jeans and a black pull over hoodie with BANE written in big, yellow, varsity letters.

Abigail Chase: Abigail Chase back here with Holden Nobody, and, Holden, as we are approaching the Jamie Johnson vs Ricky Tenet match, it's gotta be a little bittersweet for you to see your partner still in this tournament. Are we going to see any more of the partnership between you and Ricky?

Holden looks a little taken aback by the question. His flustered demeanor turns to annoyance as he shifts the titles on his shoulders.

Holden Nobody: Kind of a rude way to start that question, huh? I'm happy for Ricky, I'm glad he's still got this opportunity, but that doesn't mean my life crumbles away. Yeah, we lost to the Road Warriors. My partner had to wrestle a match earlier that night against the Empire State Champion, won that match, and two legends of the industry still couldn't get a pinfall or submission victory. Does it suck that I'm not in either Master of the Mat tournament? Yeah, but if you want me to tuck my tail and whimper like X-Calibur seems to want, we can just not do these interviews anymore.

Holden looks at the camera.

Holden Nobody: There's two kinds of wrestlers on the SHOOT Project roster: the full timers and retirees, the old heads snatching scraps away from the new school so that they can feel the spotlight for a few moments longer. Guys like Ricky, guys like Sakai, guys like Napalm, gals like Izzy, and even guys like me aren't here to be put out to pasture. We're here to keep hauling this cart.

There's a mixed reaction from the crowd here, smatterings of boos that give way to a smattering of cheers as different parts of the fanbase decide how they feel about what Holden is saying. Holden turns his attention back to Abigail.

Holden Nobody: Ricky's got a haul on his shoulders right now, with the opportunity to become the Master of the Mat and with, I believe, a title shot at Napalm for beating him last show. Whoever walks away champion tonight, Izzy or Sakai, has to keep me in mind. So, we both have some work to do.

Abigail Chase: That's a lot of bold shots at legends of this industry. Are you sure you have the win/loss record to be making such bold statements?

Holden again looks annoyed at Abigail Chase. He shrugs.

Holden Nobody: Anyone, Abigail. Any show. For any prize. If you want my UWA or Resistance World Championship? Name the spot. If you want my Premier Title shot? Name the spot. Anyone, for any reason, at any time, for any…thing. Period.

Holden doesn't allow Abigail Chase to say anything else. He ends the interview by walking off camera.

Ricky Tenet paces back and forth backstage not far from the entrance curtain, throwing some shadow punches and a few kicks toward a wall.

Eryk Masters: Up next, we see what the final round of the 2026 Master of the Mat tournament is going to look like!

His image filling the VideoWall draws a wild roar of approval from the Pinnacle, loud enough for him to hear.

Jason Johnson: Jamie Johnson. Ricky Tenet. "The Benchmark" and "the Iron Saint."

Ricky stops in his tracks and can't help but smile at the noise, resting his hands on his hips.

Ricky Tenet: That's…hey, is that, like, normal?

From off to the side, a voice Ricky hasn't heard in a while calls out.

Josh Kaine: It is when you're Ricky-Fuckin'-Tenet.

Josh Kaine walks over to Tenet, the latter's jaw dropping just a hair before he regains his composure and shoots a hand out.

Ricky Tenet: Hey man, what's up? It's been a bit, even Big Grit's been asking about you!

Josh Kaine: Fuck, yeah I gotta get back to Grit City sometime—ain't been slackin' in the gym, just takin' care of my Ma and sister the best I can…and Aaron and his family.

Ricky holds onto Kaine's hand for just a beat too long, only realizing it as Josh's eyes look down.

Josh Kaine: You know, dude, you hold my hand any longer I'm gonna have to take ya on a stroll through Central Park.

Ricky releases Josh's hand as Kaine cracks a grin.

Ricky Tenet: Yeah, man, I'm sorry…just been a while, you know? And you and Aaron? Getting THIS far?!

Josh Kaine: Don't worry about it, you ain't my strollin' type anyway. Yeah, me'n Dearinger ain't doin' too bad! Feels great to be part of a tag team again, missed it to be honest. How 'bout you though? You're fuckin' killing it main-eventing now, man!

Josh clearly still likes Ricky, even with the amount of time between when they spoke last, and the bashfulness of the younger star bleeds through as he brushes his hair out of his face. Tenet clears his throat, shrugging.

Ricky Tenet: I mean, I wouldn't say main eventing, just been on a good, like…win streak, I guess? At any moment, though, I'll wake up, and…

Josh Kaine: You'll be standing buck-ass naked in front of your history class with no idea what you're doin'?

Kaine lets out a good laugh, playfully elbowing the younger man.

Josh Kaine: Naaaah, you're gonna wake up and find out you're beatin' your old man for his belt. No lie, kinda jealous of ya—you could go toe to toe with your pop if you want. I try to face off against my Ma and I'll just get a bullet in my ass. Jada's from Texas—she took that whole gun-nut shit to heart.

A third voice now, drawing the attention of both men to Corey Lazarus as he walks up and stands between them.

Corey Lazarus: Yeah, she always struck me as that type. Your shoe's untied, by the way.

Both Josh and Ricky look down at their feet, but Laz doesn't give either of them a second to verify his claim.

Corey Lazarus: Hey kiddo, you saw that little silliness earlier, right? When that walking, talking, suckerpunching little bitch and his newfound best buddy in the whole wide world said…

Ricky takes a half step back from his father, looking quickly back to Josh as the son of Sinnocence cocks an eyebrow.

Corey Lazarus: …yeah, you saw it. Everybody did. Anyway, that leaves your old man in a bit of a situation, dig?

Ricky Tenet: Dad, I…

Corey Lazarus: So what do you say to tossing the ball around with your old man? Just picture it, kid.

Lazarus wraps his arm around his son, directing his attention above the camera as he manifests an imaginary marquee.

Corey Lazarus: "The World Heavyweight champion and the hottest young star in the business today take on a wretched pair of…"

Ricky Tenet: DAD! Listen, I'm sorry, but…

Laz visibly sighs, pulling away from Ricky as the younger Tenet pauses, searching for the right words.

Ricky Tenet: …I mean, I have Jamie to deal with in a few minutes, and that's just, like, a really big deal, right? And I need to focus…and pulling double duty again, uhh…

Corey Lazarus: …yep…

There's a major feeling of "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" hanging in the air between Ricky and his father, the temporary silence saying more than words ever could. Corey tuts his tongue and shrugs his shoulders.

Corey Lazarus: Well, looks like the ol' L-A-Z is back to the drawing board.

Ricky Tenet: It's not that I don't want to, because Arthur deserves more than what happened at Reckoning Day, and that NC-17 guy is a…

Josh holds up his hand as he steps between the two, his back to Ricky. Kaine stares daggers into Corey's eyes, completely unfazed by the vibe going on around him.

Josh Kaine: Hooooold on up there, Laz. You need a partner? I need to show NC-17 that 'No.' is a complete fuckin' sentence. Dickhead sent his sleazy manager to try and get my Ma…who is fuckin' retired for a reason, then threatened her when she said no. I owe him some fuckin' pain for all the pain he brought her.

Corey Lazarus: …yeah? You're game, Joshy-poo?

Josh nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

Josh Kaine: Long as you never call me Joshy-poo again. When it comes to this shit, I'm your Huckleberry.

Corey nods and flashes his Trademark Devilish Grin, clapping his hand on Josh's shoulder with a devious chuckle under his breath.

Corey Lazarus: And hell's coming with us, slick. I'll see you out there! And Ricky?

Ricky perks up as Corey looks his way, tousling his hair quickly before pinching his cheek. Tenet groans and swats his father's hand away, laughing off the embarrassment.

Corey Lazarus: Good luck out there, tiger.

Corey briefly growls like a wild cat, "clawing" his hand toward his abashed junior as Kaine shakes his head in amused disbelief. A pair of fingerguns get fired off, one for Ricky and one for Josh, as Lazarus clicks his tongue and flashes a wink. The World Heavyweight champion walks off, whistling the melody to "the Ecstasy of Gold" as Kaine turns back to Tenet.

Josh Kaine: Get it done.

Kaine holds up a fist and Ricky obliges, a quick show of respect that precedes Josh walking back down the hall. Tenet jogs in place, visibly starting to shake from nerves, as the cameras cut back to inside the arena.

The cameras cut backstage. Jamie Johnson pushes through the heavy black curtain at the gorilla position, exhaling hard, a towel draped over one shoulder and a welt already forming on the side of his jaw. He moves slowly down the concrete corridor toward the locker rooms, rolling his shoulder with a wince.

Eryk Masters: Whatever the result out there, you can see what that match pulled out of him.

Up ahead, framed in the harsh overhead lighting near a backstage monitor, Joe Quinn and Dan Richards of Spinebuster Island stand in their ring gear, towels in hand, waiting on their call for the next match.

Jason Johnson: And there's Spinebuster Island right there, Eryk. Ready to go. Waiting in the chute.

Jamie's stride shortens. Not quite a stop. Just a half-beat.

Quinn catches the motion first and straightens. Richards follows a breath later. Both sets of eyes lock onto Jamie.

The camera holds on the three men. No words. No nods. Just a stretch of silence in the backstage hallway where the energy of the arena doesn't quite reach.

Eryk Masters: Nothing needs to be said here, Jace.

Jason Johnson: Nothing at all.

Jamie holds the look one beat longer than is comfortable—then exhales through his nose and keeps walking. The camera stays on Spinebuster Island as Quinn finally glances sideways at Richards. A flat, unreadable exchange between partners.

Jason Johnson: That tells you everything you need to know. Everybody in this locker room knows what's at stake. And speaking of which—Spinebuster Island and Fear & Loathing are up next.

A backstage runner steps into frame, says something to Quinn, and points toward the entrance. Spinebuster Island grab their towels, share one final glance, and head for the curtain.

We cut backstage to see one half of the World Warriors, former EWA World Heavyweight Champion and new SHOOT Project Soldier, Michael Draven making his way to the catering tables. He's got another big match and one last protein hit wasn't going to hurt.

It isn't long before a blur of black and purple runs in from off-camera and jumps on his back. He lets out a shout, clearly surprised when this figure tackles him and he catches the assailant out of sheer reflex.

Michael Draven: What the fuck—Maggie?! What are you doing here??

He turns enough to pull her into a tight embrace, before slowly setting her feet back on the ground. Maggie grins up at him, standing on tip toes to kiss his cheek.

Maggie McIntyre: I came to surprise you and cheer you on, you goof!

Michael takes a moment to mirror her grin before leaning down to kiss her passionately. It's more than clear that he absolutely adores his wife and the feelings are returned by her.

Michael Draven: You are unbelievable and I love you for it. Erik's got the kids?

Maggie McIntyre: Well of course, he's the only one I trust with them for longer than a day.

Neither of them have a very involved extended family, so Michael's older brother was their default sitter more often than not.

Michael Draven: Where's your seat—

Michael is suddenly interrupted by a voice calling to him.

"HEY STUPID, OLD FUCK! WHERE'S MY BAG!?"

The married pair whip around to see none other than Madison Seton, both of them clearly confused as to what the hell she's talking about.

Maggie McIntyre: Holy shit, you're tall as hell. Talk about an Amazon. Where the hell were you raised, Fangorn Forest, Wisconsin?

Madison looks overly confused for a second, clearly not getting the reference. As it passes, she speaks.

Madison Seton: Hey, how big of stilts do you use? Like, when you wrestled—different size than at home?

Maggie McIntyre: Yeah yeah, enough with the short jokes. Never stopped me from being a giant-slayer, right, Mike?

Maggie glanced up to her husband as he snickered.

Michael Draven: You're not wrong there. Dredd, Haven, Calder, me.

Maggie looks the taller woman up and down before stepping in front of her husband and holding out her hand.

Maggie McIntyre: Nice to meet you, though, Madison. I'm Maggie McIntyre, the one who definitely will punch you in the tit if you make passes as my husband again.

Madison Seton: It is nice meeting—but you talk to me like that again?… Never mind, just—

She lets her head clear, then turns back to Draven.

Madison Seton: My gear's lost. Bag and all. Where is it?

Michael Draven: You can't find your gear?

Madison Seton: That's the typical definition of "lost," doofus.

The smart-ass tone takes a toll on the couple, but neither lashes out.

Michael Draven: Do you remember where you last had it?

Madison Seton: If it was where I last had it, then it wouldn't be lost, now would it, Einstein!!??

The wife and husband look at each other, confused again. Maggie shrugs and pulls her hand back as her husband speaks.

Michael Draven: No idea, I've been over here scoping out the food since I got here.

The trio are interrupted by a loud screech of microphone feedback from a nearby monitor that also plays on the jumbotron in the arena.

Maggie McIntyre: What the fuck was that?

Maggie looks up to her husband and the tall woman who is staring at the monitor in disbelief. Michael Draven looks just as confused before he turns his eyes to Madison.

Michael Draven: Yeesh, who did you piss off?

Madison's eyes bug out and her mouth drops WIDE open. She stands horrified, watching the burning. A sharp, high-pitched shriek breaks her silence.

Madison Seton: MY STUFF!!?? WHAT THE FUCK!!???

She just shrieks again as she bee-lines out of the room. The camera pans back to Michael, who shrugs as he looks at his wife.

Michael Draven: Maybe now they'll believe me?

Maggie shrugs in return as we fade to ringside.

The cameras cut back to the commentary desk where Eryk Masters and Jason Johnson sit, Eryk fanning himself with a notebook as Jason shakes his head at the monitor.

Eryk Masters: What a match. What a MATCH, Jace. Credit where it's due—Madison Seton walked into a Master of the Mat semi-final after someone torched her ring gear backstage, the Empire scrambled to get her a spare set on less than an hour's notice, and she went absolutely toe-to-toe with one of the most dangerous men on this roster.

Jason Johnson: Arthur took it tonight, Eryk. And I don't think anyone in this building was breathing until that three count hit.

Eryk Masters: Here's the thing that has me scratching my head, though, Jace—Arthur Pleasant has maybe, what…ninety seconds to get himself back together?

Jason Johnson: If that. Because the very next thing on our card is the impromptu tag match Corey Lazarus called out at the top of the show. Pleasant and NC-17 versus Lazarus and Josh Kaine. Right now.

Eryk Masters: No pause. No breather. No trainer's table. Straight back out there.

Jason Johnson: These are the terms, Eryk. Lazarus wanted it tonight. Pleasant agreed. And Lazarus doesn't strike me as the guy who's going to wait patiently while Arthur catches his breath.

Eryk Masters: Well, Artie—if you needed a minute? Sorry. The Hollywood Kid is on his way to this ring right now.

Jason Johnson: Ladies and gentlemen, steady yourselves. This one is about to get ugly.

For a few moments, a silence befalls the ring. The rows of fans shout and chant, the backstage runs on pure adrenaline as per usual, but between the ropes? Between NC-17, Corey Lazarus, Josh Kaine, and Arthur Pleasant? A haunting sense of deathlike silence.

Silence shattered the moment that the final echo of the ring bell falters into history, broken by a sneering, contemptuous howl from the mohawked disgrace.

NC-17: Is that all you fuckers got?

Corey bounds across the ring and tackles Teen to the mat, driving palm strikes and elbows aplenty toward his face. NC-17 covers up as best he can, most of the incoming attack absorbed by his forearms though some sneak through to his face. Arthur wastes little time in joining the party, grabbing Laz by the hair and ripping him away from his partner of convenience.

Eryk Masters: It was only a matter of time before things broke down again with these two involved!

Jason Johnson: AEGIS needs to get out here! And bring the fucking riot squad!

While Teen rolls out of the ring, spitting blood from a freshly torn hole in his bottom lip, Pleasant sinks bomb after bomb into Corey's face and midsection, kicks and fists connecting with the Hollywood Kid as he scrambles to cover up. Arthur gets Laz into the corner and grabs the tag rope, wrapping it around the World champion's throat.

The GODSEND: I wanna see the lights leave your eyes, Corey. Enough struggling. Just let it happ—

Eryk Masters: Josh Kaine isn't done yet, either!!

Kaine blindsides Pleasant with a wild crossface punch that stuns the GODSEND just long enough to relent from his attack on Corey. Arthur turns and swings hard with a right hand, but Josh hooks him…

Eryk Masters: FENRIR'S BITE!! JOSH KAINE HAS ARTHUR PLEASANT IN THE FENRIR'S BITE!!

Pleasant struggles to fight the flying armbar off, clutching at his trapped wrist with his free hand as Kaine uses his weight to pin the GODSEND down. It's of no use, though, as Kaine cinches it in, stretching Arthur's shoulder back…

Jason Johnson: NC-17 WITH THE WORLD TITLE…!!

Teen dives through the ropes and drives the center plate of the World title directly into Kaine's face, forcing him to break his hold on Arthur. NC-17 drives the belt into Josh's face again, for good measure, as Arthur rolls to the floor and rips the chair out from beneath Samantha Coil.

Eryk Masters: Where the hell is AEGIS?!

Pleasant tosses the chair into the ring as Teen drags Kaine to his feet, landing a pair of stiff right hands that send Josh reeling into the ropes. Teen drops the belt and leans into Kaine, choking him as blood pours from his lower lip, only releasing once he's tied Josh's arms up in the middle and top ropes. Arthur rolls into the ring and Laz STIFFS him with a spinning back chop across the face that sends Pleasant reeling.

Jason Johnson: There's still some fight left in him!

Before Corey can mount any sort of momentum, however, NC-17 picks up the chair and DRILLS the L-A-Z over the head. Corey slumps down to his knees and falls against the ropes as Arthur rises, his glare catching the top turnbuckle with a sickening glee.

Jason Johnson: …oh dear GOD…

NC-17 drops the chair and starts laying shot after shot into Josh's face and ribs before Pleasant picks up the World title, his thoughts forming one conclusion.

The GODSEND: Hey, you know something, Mr. Teen?

Teen turns and scowls at the GODSEND, met with a SHOT TO THE FACE with the World title belt from Pleasant.

The GODSEND: Your services are no longer needed!

The impact sends Seventeen falling over the ropes and to the floor, Pleasant snickering as he sets up the chair.

Eryk Masters: Arthur Pleasant just ended the alliance with Seventeen!!

Jason Johnson: It was always one of convenience, Eryk! Arthur wanted to get to the World champion, he wants to END him! NC-17 just made it easier!

Pleasant lays the World title belt atop the chair and grabs Corey by the hair, licking Laz's blood from his fingers as he drags him into the corner.

Eryk Masters: No…no, no, no…!

Arthur pulls himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle, pulling Corey with him as the realization of this familiar site washes over the Pinnacle.

Eryk Masters: Oh no…NO! NOT AGAIN!!

Jason Johnson: HE'S GOING FOR THE NARCOLEPSY!!! THAT ALMOST ENDED RICKY'S CAREER!!

Lazarus struggles, his retaliation broken with a headbutt to the bridge of the nose…and the crowd goes WILD as the cavalry arrives!

Eryk Masters: AEGIS Security is here!!

Jason Johnson: AND LOOK WHO'S LEADING THE CHARGE!!

Ricky Tenet dives under the bottom rope and charges, throwing a wild uppercut into Arthur's jaw that breaks his hold over Lazarus. Corey drops to the mat and Pleasant throws a boot to Ricky, but Tenet blocks it and nails a step-up dropkick to the face that sends the GODSEND tumbling off the top rope to the apron and, finally, to the floor. AEGIS swarms the perimeter, inside and out, forming a demilitarized zone between the two sides.

Teen rises slowly, holds up his hands, laughing…and then realizes something is missing.

NC-17: Hey, which one of you dweebledwarfs got my championship belt?

Arthur is back up on the outside, looking none too pleased that Ricky stopped him from ending the World Heavyweight Champion's career.

The GODSEND: I'm sorry to correct you, my child, but you obviously mean MY championship belt. Its okay, though. I forgive you! Mistakes happen!

NC-17 glares harshly at Arthur Pleasant as AEGIS unties Kaine from the ropes. Meanwhile, Ricky checks on Corey, his father's blood staining his hands.

Ricky Tenet: Dad…you okay? You still with us?

Corey Lazarus: Yeah…yeah…did we…did we get…I just need some air, kiddo…

Ricky backs away from his father and checks on Josh briefly, the glimmer of the overhead lights off the gold of the World Heavyweight title belt catching his attention. A quick glimpse turns to a second glance…

Josh Kaine: I'm fine, I'll be fine…damn…

NC-17 seethes as he watches Tenet pick up the World title, a growing roar from the nosebleeds down to the ringside…

"RICK-Y!! RICK-Y!! RICK-Y!! RICK-Y!!"

…and Lazarus pulls himself to his feet, wiping blood from his face. He casually raises a middle finger toward Teen and Pleasant, reaching his hand out for the belt. Corey reaches out his hand, stepping away from the corner.

Corey Lazarus: Thanks, sport. Want to hand it over?

Ricky's hesitation doesn't last long, a second or two, but it does drain some color from Corey's face.

Corey Lazarus: Hey, Ricky…want to, you know…?

Tenet snaps out of his temporary trance, looking the rightful champion in the eye.

Ricky Tenet: Oh, y-yeah…sorry…

Pleasant catches the exchange, and smiles before heading to the back to retreat and reconvene with the DeMONSTRance.

Finally, Ricky hands the belt back over to Corey, who hoists it high over his head to the mostly full approval of the Pinnacle. The few scattered clouds of doubt draw a glance over the shoulder from father to son, the senior amusedly taken aback as Ricky goes back to help Kaine steady himself on his feet.

Eryk Masters: The World Heavyweight champion once again has his title back!

Jason Johnson: But did you see Ricky hesitate to hand it over? That's going to be an awkward dinner conversation.

Corey drops to his knees, laughing as he places the World title on the mat before him. His gaze meets Arthur and NC-17 at ringside, holding up a defiant double bird while the Cream of Obscene and the GODSEND are kept apart by AEGIS. Josh Kaine and Ricky Tenet lean against the ropes, daring either to get back into the ring.

Eryk Masters: And it feels like all is right with the world again!

Corey Lazarus rises to his feet, draping his World Heavyweight championship belt over his shoulder and patting Josh Kaine on the back. He gives a slight side-eye to Ricky Tenet as the scene fades…

Johnny Napalm: HEY!

The crowd looks around and they know that a voice from one of the spectator entrances, out comes the Empire State champ, and the crowd cheers as he walks down the stairs heading for the ring. The crowd comes close to mobbing the champ but he takes a few moments to fist bump some of the fans as he keeps walking.

Johnny Napalm: I figured even though I'm not booked tonight to come out and make my presence known. You see, for the past few months I have been working harder to climb to the top of SHOOT Project, and I have to admit it's going better than I was expecting.

Johnny Napalm: I know that Ricky Tenet has a title shot against me in the future, but if anyone knows me since Zenith 1, I do have the habit of getting my wins back. You did beat me, Tenet, you knocked me out of Master of the Mat but just know that round two isn't going to be as simple as the first, I promise you that.

Napalm gets down to ringside as he actually vaults over the railings.

Johnny Napalm: Been hearing a bit more positive things being said about me recently, and honestly, it's about damned time. Over twenty years I have busted my ass in this sport that I love and respect to no god damned end when I got into this business when I was 16. I have a father that always told me to respect the business, the thing is I might respect the business, but I know there are some who show no respect at all. But, right now I am here to make a statement and I for one think this is long overdue.

Napalm gets to the ring and gets up and walks over the ropes.

Johnny Napalm: Right now, I am the Empire State champ. And to be a little cocky there aren't many who can claim there the best Empire State champion in its small history, but let me ask you, is there many who can claim that? Only one, and you're looking at him.

Napalm looked at the hard cam when saying that determination in his face, he was the cornerstone, the workhorse, the gatekeeper of this belt and there are not many who can claim that considering his over 144 days and counting between the three title reigns he has. There is a fire few can see in those eyes, but with how he looked and how he composed himself, he had something on his mind.

Johnny Napalm: But I crave more. I might be out of Master of the Mat, that title shot is out of my reach because of it.

Napalm pauses.

Johnny Napalm: Or is it, you see if anyone checked the latest rankings I am in the top five, working my ass off every Zenith, so I'm just sending this to whoever the World Champ is after Master of the Mat is in the books. Whoever is the champ after the smoke clears, all the bodies lay on the mat and whoever raises that belt in their hands. Just remember this, you still have one more person who has their sights set on you. I have been sitting here with the Empire State title for quite a while now. So unlike all the others aiming for that belt I am a patient one, just like I was when I won that title shot at Zenith 1 let them stew on it let them think that I am not going to step up, and when I do there gonna understand that they made the biggest mistake of their lives thinking I don't deserve to be up there.

Napalm paces the ring getting more fired up than ever.

Johnny Napalm: Let this be my statement, before 2026 is over I will be SHOOT World Champ!

The crowd cheers again, he is finally pulling the trigger making his presence known in the World Title hunt.

Johnny Napalm: Until that happens, this Empire State title is my statement, 144 days and counting between these three title reigns, and no one can claim that from me. I have always said what you see is what you get, right now I am a champion, on top of being a fighting champion so Zenith 15 I am issuing an open challenge, whoever wants that chance to make themselves famous. The contract is with Real Deal, and I will be ready for anyone who wants to sign on the dotted line. I have said that I am done being an afterthought, all my detractors, all the doubters, and every person who thinks I don't have it anymore. Can go soak in their own bullshit cause I am done hearing it. I have proven every week, no matter if my opponent gives me a challenge or not. I will not stop until that World Title is mine.

Johnny Napalm: SHOOT Project, you just been put on notice. And soon, you will all know that I am a fucking threat to that World Title. You just don't know it yet.

Napalm drops the mic as his music plays and instead of going up the ramp he gets out of the ring and goes back over the railing and back into the crowd the cheers being pretty damn loud as he slaps hands and gives some fist bumps as he heads back out the way he came back in.

Johnny Napalm stands in the center of the ring, mic still in hand, Empire State Championship on his shoulder. The Pinnacle buzzes. Waiting. Watching the entranceway for someone, anyone, to answer the call. For a moment, nothing.

Then without any notice, without any delay… FIRE ERUPTS AT THE TOP OF THE RAMPWAY along with the lights descending into darkness with exception to an eerie ethereal blue hue… the iconic cold dead aura immediately seeped into the arena and overtook it…. then, a haunting sound cuts through the sounds of the fans….

It is the arrival of The Unholy One and most certainly only, the dangerous, the evil ASSHOLE himself, THE DARKSPADE!!

Jason Johnson: Whoa… he is NOT wasting any time getting to that ring, Eryk. He is heading STRAIGHT for Napalm!

Eryk Masters: Napalm asked for anyone willing to sign on the dotted line, Jace. I don't think he expected THIS to be the one who signed it.

A violent collision of sound erupts from the crowd—boos crashing against a rising wave of unhinged devotion. His Creatures. Twisted. Devoted. SICK. Reflecting his darkness back at him like a mirror.

They roar in unison… "THE DARKEST HOUR…! THE DARKEST HOUR…! THE DARKEST HOUR…!"

As The Darkspade stands on the middle ramp, he turns ever-so-slightly to the fans, specifically to his Creatures, and slowly rises his hands to form the infamous 'Spade Symbol'. His eyes glow in an eerie pale light. He turns, stalks down the ramp, and steps into the ring. The lights dim once again to that eerie blue hue. Napalm drops his own mic, cracks his neck, and watches every step.

At his feet, The Darkspade finds a discarded mic. He picks it up.

The Darkspade: "Napalm… ironic, is it not? That of all the pitiful souls in that locker room, YOU were the one with the guts to issue the call. You and I both know full well that this is not about a hunk of metal strapped to a waist. What has always mattered is making a statement—to prove to all of the rest what the two of us are capable of. Two behemoths ready to kill each other. What bliss."

The Darkspade: "So we meet again. And this time… we finally right what was wronged."

The Darkspade tosses the mic aside, cape still swirling, and walks to the center of the ring. Napalm meets him there. Forehead to forehead. Neither man flinches.

Eryk Masters: Bell this one up, Paul Cooper!

The bell rings. Our impromptu Empire State Championship match is officially UNDERWAY.

The referee raises Johnny Napalm's hand in the corner, the Empire State Championship cradled against his ribs. Napalm retains. The official victor. But the camera is not on him.

It is on The Darkspade, who has not left the ring. His Creatures are still roaring. His eyes are locked on the SHOOT Tron—the same Tron that, moments ago, at the precise breath he was poised to finish this, flickered to life with a figure that froze him in place. Long enough for Napalm to capitalize. Long enough to cost him the match.

Jason Johnson: He can't believe it, Eryk. He had the Empire State Champion dead to rights and something on that screen stopped him in his tracks.

Eryk Masters: And I think we all know who.

The Darkspade strides to the ropes, snatches a discarded mic off the apron, and paces back to center ring. The blue hue deepens. Napalm and the referee both keep their distance. Even they know to stay clear of what is about to come out of him.

::Pointing his right hand at the Tron, curling his fingers as he speaks each syllable::

The Darkspade: "The Void has always been misunderstood. Its vastness… its reach… its intent. You call it evil because you cannot comprehend it. So you cover your ears. You shield your eyes. You sit comfortably in your seats, pretending the world has returned to normal…but The Void, if labeled, is The Unholy Darkness…. and it does not fade. It swells like a cancer. I do not require your understanding. I do not even care if my words take root in your fragile little feeble minds—though ignoring them would be your final mistake. From the moment I arrived in the SHOOT Project, I made one truth abundantly clear: I am here to claim your wretched souls… and I have. Just. Just take a gander at my pet project, my, and to another, OUR little sacrificial lamb, Ricky…. he is decimating the competition…. Heh, Iron Sadist… you cannot fool us."

The Darkspade takes a long pause… then returns the mic to his lips.

The Darkspade: "Oh, you may cling to your illusions. One may say you defeated me… that you made me submit… that you pinned me to the mat…. and think returning to your pitiful life will undo what I am—heh—and what I done to her. But look around you. Really look, long and intentionally. The LIES fed to you by this organization—by this world—are rotting from the inside out. You can hear it, can't you? The cries of MY Creatures…. The call for THE DARKEST HOUR… striking cold… deliberate… three FUCKING godforsaken times. Yes… The Unholy One does not simply vanish. I endure. And your end? It does not come by chance… it does not come by fate…"

With another pause, The Darkspade releases a hideous grin, even at those screaming aloud… "UNHOLY ASSHOLE…. UNHOLY ASSHOLE."

The Darkspade: "…it comes into my hand, and I decide when, how, and why. Since my proclamation, this organization has remained silent. They FEAR what could happen if I became champion again. This organization tries to shield its flaws with AEGIS, lies that tell you you are safe. But there is one who apparently does not fear. One who appears on screens uninvited. One who thinks she can interrupt the work of the Unholy One without consequence. Now…bow your heads…and pray."

The Darkspade whips his long black cape and is half-way out through the middle rope with his theme music playing, when it is abruptly cut off…. on the SHOOT Tron is, once again, that eerie vision of the one called, "Charon of Death."

The Darkspade's face looks up while still between the middle and top rope. He gets out, and backs back up into the ring…. his face and body then drenched in this eerie lime-green light…. the music keeps playing and at each moment the fans scream in anticipation, even drowning those earlier screaming for THE DARKEST HOUR…

And just like THAT…. that mysterious woman with the long cape and cowl exits through the entrance… she has in her right hand what appears to be a nail gun! And then, she swings it up high and shoots off a volley of nails which then erupt pyros behind her…. she smiles towards The Darkspade's direction and makes her way to the ring, and with each pass of the camera, it picks up a different angle of her face, until she rolls underneath the ring ropes and slithers back up until she is literally inches from The Darkspade's face…. the two stare at each other for a while, until Charon backs off, hoists her nail-gun in a sheave attached to her belt…. she picks up the mic and directs her every single word and attention to her "dad."

But, suddenly, The Unholy One shakes his head and passes by her left aimed to the ropes again…. Charon turns around bewildered, watching him exit under the ropes and leap off of the apron to the floor below…. The camera view captures The Darkspade making the same pace he came in until Charon spoke… and when she did… he paused at the top of the ramp….

Charon of Death: "YOU are the lie, Dad. Same as always… blinded by your own damn ego, drunk on your own legend, too consumed to see the truth staring you in the face: you are no different than the souls you claim to harvest. Funny… I never knew the Void could retreat. Never knew it could slink back into its own darkness with its tail tucked between its legs. Because I am the one who ferries them. I am the passage. The final crossing…. and I have seen no trace of the enemy you swear you faced there. Not a whisper. Not a shadow. Not a goddamn thing."

The Darkspade turns around with a glare in his eyes at Charon.

Charon of Death: "…. running away like the coward that you became. I am here for one reason. You. YOU are the reason… Return to me and leave these people in peace…."

The Unholy One is about to say something with his mouth partially open, but instead, he glares again, closes his mouth, turns and walks to the backstage…. leaving Charon alone in the ring…. with that, Charon sighs, takes the mic and addresses the fans, ALL of SHOOT Project….

Charon of Death: "So be it. If it takes it, if it takes having to claw and fight my way to HIM… so be it…. Spadey, you and I have unfinished business… trust me on that."

With that poignant remark, she flings the mic down, raises her nailgun straight into the air, and FIRES volley after volley of nails, sending them exploding up high—a signal of her intent and promise.

The cameras cut back to ringside, where Eryk Masters and Jason Johnson are at the commentary desk, headsets on. Eryk is shaking his head as if still processing what we all just witnessed on the entrance ramp.

Eryk Masters: Ladies and gentlemen, if you're just now tuning in — and I don't know how you could be — we have just witnessed one of the most unhinged hours of SHOOT Project television we have ever called. Let's try to make sense of it before our main event.

Jason Johnson: Where do we even start, Eryk? Top of the card. Yorinobu Sakai and "Kamatayan" Izzy Sia, Premier Championship on the line in our opener — Izzy Sia walked out of the Pinnacle with that gold still around her waist. And Vito Valentino made damn sure we all heard exactly where his head is at after watching it. A dogfight. That was the word he used. He wants Sakai.

Eryk Masters: The Tag Team Master of the Mat semi-final followed — The Moonshiners against 16 Chambers. 16 Chambers punched their ticket to the tournament finals. Then Holden Nobody got up in Abigail Chase's face, Jace, and drew a circle around the entire locker room. Anyone. Any show. For any prize. Anyone, for any reason, at any time, for anything.

Jason Johnson: Bold words from a man already carrying two world championships. Speaking of bold — Corey Lazarus rolls out of Gate 12 in a tailored three-piece and calls out NC-17 and Arthur Pleasant to a tag match with a mystery partner. And we saw the payoff backstage. Josh Kaine, Moonshiner, Jada's boy, looked the L-A-Z dead in the eye and said, "I'm your Huckleberry."

Eryk Masters: Ricky Tenet and Jamie Johnson — the Iron Saint versus the Benchmark, a Master of the Mat semi-final the Pinnacle was chanting for before the bell. Jamie Johnson advances to the finals. Spinebuster Island and Fear & Loathing went the distance right after, and Spinebuster Island walked out with the W.

Jason Johnson: Then we got weird, Eryk. Michael Draven was backstage with his wife Maggie McIntyre — first time we've seen her on a SHOOT feed since the EWA closed — when Madison Seton came storming in looking for her missing gear bag. That's when the video feed hit the Jumbotron. Red robe. Candles. Photos of half this locker room. And that figure doused Madison's ring gear in lighter fluid and set it ablaze. "You have been chosen, Madison Seton."

Eryk Masters: Credit where it's due — the Empire moved fast. They scrambled and got Madison a spare set of gear on less than an hour's notice so she could face Arthur Pleasant in her Master of the Mat semi-final. Pleasant walked out of that one, but something tells me Madison has bigger problems than Pleasant now.

Jason Johnson: And then Lazarus and Kaine went toe to toe with Pleasant and NC-17 in the impromptu tag that Laz called out earlier in the night. Lazarus and Kaine took it. But what we all saw AFTER the bell — Arthur Pleasant turning on NC-17 with the World title belt, setting up the Narcolepsy on Corey, and Ricky Tenet charging through the AEGIS line to save his father.

Eryk Masters: And the moment, Jace. That hand-off. Ricky picked up the World Heavyweight Championship, looked at his father…and he hesitated. Just a beat. But everyone in the Pinnacle saw it. That's going to sit with the Lazarus household.

Jason Johnson: Then Johnny Napalm walked down from the crowd and told this company that before 2026 is out, he's walking out World Champion. Open challenge for tonight, Empire State Championship on the line…

Eryk Masters: …and hell answered the door. The Darkspade. Pyro at the top of the ramp, the lights went blue, THE DARKEST HOUR chants rattling through the Pinnacle. Napalm retains in a finish that had Charon of Death's fingerprints all over it.

Jason Johnson: And if that wasn't enough, Charon of Death arrived. Fired a nail gun into the air over her own father, told Spadey to his face that HE is the lie, and promised the SHOOT Project faithful that she is clawing her way to him. Unfinished business.

Eryk touches his earpiece, holding up a finger as he listens in. His eyes widen slightly. He glances to Jason before leaning back into his mic.

Eryk Masters: Jace, while we were talking, word just came down from the Realest of the Deals himself. Management has made it official.

Jason Johnson: Go ahead, Eryk.

Eryk Masters: Holden Nobody said what he said earlier tonight. Anyone, for any reason, at any time, for anything. Management heard him loud and clear, Jace. At Zenith 016, Holden Nobody will put his Premier Championship opportunity ON THE LINE against Vito Valentino. You asked for it, Holden. You got it.

Jason Johnson: Vito wanted Sakai. Now he has a path to a shot. And that's before our main event has even happened tonight. Speaking of…

Eryk Masters: The World Warriors. Planet Motherfucker. Tag Team Master of the Mat semi-final. It is main event time, folks.

Backstage—but in the guts again. Boiler room. Bare bulbs and industrial hum. And a huge halo of smoke, as Pigpen Matsumoto, the King of Death, sits in a folding chair, snuffing the smoldering filter of a cigarette into his own palm with nary a wince. When he speaks, it's notable for two reasons: he's not growling bile like he normally does, and his command of English has really, really improved. Credit to Frasier Crane.

Pigpen: Growing up not…not knowing what life brings, yeah? Other cocksuck, they know they go to school, go to another school, get job in daddy law office or investing firms and get wife and fuck and have kid and retire and drive boat and swing golf bat and die.

He draws a fresh Seven Star ("Black with crisp, brilliant taste and umami that stands out"), firing it up with a Bic that has seen better days even by chain smoker Bic standards. He drags deep with a scowl, and he doesn't exhale a plume, instead willing to speak as he breathes out, making him look like a particularly bad case of road-hauled dragon.

Pigpen: All of them knowing. I. Never. Know.

He punctuates these with jabs of his thumb into the leather of his jackets lapels.

Pigpen: Every day wake up and know. Yeah? Only thing Pigpen know. Pigpen know because he see them all, regular, shiny and having joyful, and they look like…Ittai dō yatte hatsuon suru nda? Glass. Window of dirty glass. I can reach out but—tonk!—always block. Not even can touch them. Not even can make them see, sometime people born on this bitch of Earth that will never know how cocksuck certain things are like them.

He sighs. Works up some glottal phlegm before spatting it out.

Pigpen: Pigpen make his certain, though. Fists and feet and forks. Shiga-san always say, "Who one of you crazy fucks will do this?" Every single time, I raise my hand. I break through glass. I show them that they are the ones who are empty, they the losers. Pigpen not loser—you hear me?!

Matsumoto leans down, yelling at the concrete floor.

Pigpen: Wake up, old man! You rotting in Hell but you hear your boy now?! Still here! Still breathe!! Still breaking everyone in half, still drink blood!! Fuck you.

Sitting back up, he takes another drag, seeming to actually savor it this time. With some considerable effort, he crosses his legs, gripping the top straps of his knee brace to achieve it.

Pigpen: Masanori Matsumoto have a child. Small boy. Beat up when people notice him, which not much happening. Yoshinori Matsumoto try to gouge out a boys eye once. Masanori hit Yoshinori for this. Not listen that the other boy stealing his son's shoes. Not caring. Yoshinori never certain of anything. Maybe one day bully hits him. Maybe next day, Masanori does. Maybe next day, teacher call him donkey for brain. Maybe day after that, nothing happen. Those days were the best. But he never counting on them. And kids grow, and they get mean, and those day where nothing happen start to get smaller and smaller. Until Yoshinori not remember the last day something bad not happen.

His voice has gotten quiet in this recollection. He's no longer looking at the camera. But he sets his lower lip with a terse, determined positioning.

Pigpen: So Yoshinori start making bad days happen. Bully wants fight? Fine. Now Yoshinori fight him every day. Dad wants fight? Fine. Now Yoshinori fight him every day. Teacher want to make fun? Fine. Now Yoshinori fight him every day. Yoshinori now a problem for the world. Yoshinori now called Pigpen. Yoshinori never have a good day. Ever. But he like that. I like that. Because no surprise. My day bad and your day bad and everyone day bad.

Another drag.

Pigpen: That a good way to go until I die. Don't need friend. Tried a few times, never took.

He chuckles, a dry thing that sounds as creaky as his leather jacket.

Pigpen: Then that fucking kid… He a surprise. I make my life not letting surprises. But he like Yoshinori. He just need to learn how to make his bad day your bad day. I never tell him this, but he make me proud last time. And he make me proud again. And even if he do not, I don't make my bad day his day. But World Warrior?

With a mighty grunt, he stands, folding the chair up and snatching it into his arms. He takes another drag and then points to the camera, rage throttling in his vocal chords. That old familiar Pigpen.

Pigpen: Your every waking moment. From bell ring to bell ring. Pigpen drag you to hell. Chad-uh Kyle beat you until you are pissing old man diapers. You bleed for me. Your face is my father face. But you are not Masanori.

Thumb to chest, jab status.

Pigpen: And I am not snot face kid. Now Pigpen have murder in veins. Fuck you.

From off camera—outside of the door, by the muffling—we can hear the reedy tones of Chadwick Kyle, recently Chad MF'n Kyle, hollering for his mentor and partner.

Chad Kyle: Yo, Pigpen! You ready? They're about to call us up, we gotta go!

Matsumoto smiles a smile of broken and rotting teeth. He chucks his lit cigarette into his mouth and rolls it around before spitting the filter to the ground and showing off his black tongue.

Pigpen: Born ready.

He walks off. The door slams. The lights cut off.

We cut one final time to the commentary desk. The main event is in the books, the ring is empty, and the Pinnacle is still on its feet. Eryk Masters and Jason Johnson sit framed against the rising house lights, both men looking spent in the best way.

Eryk Masters: Folks, if you spent the last three hours with us tonight, you earned every second of it. What a show.

Jason Johnson: That's putting it mildly, Eryk. Let's walk it home.

Eryk Masters: Top of the card. "Kamatayan" Izzy Sia retained the Premier Championship against Yorinobu Sakai. A young lion from Japan walked in thinking he could take a second piece of her. He walked out with nothing but respect and more questions. And before the sweat dried, Vito Valentino was at Gorilla calling for a dogfight.

Jason Johnson: And that dogfight has a path now, Eryk. Holden Nobody told Abigail Chase that he'd fight anyone, for any reason, at any time, for anything. Real Deal heard him. At Zenith 016, Nobody puts his Premier Championship opportunity ON THE LINE against Vito Valentino. Be careful what you ask for.

Eryk Masters: Corey Lazarus opened this show by walking down from Gate 12 in a three-piece suit and calling Arthur Pleasant and NC-17 to the ring for an impromptu tag. Josh Kaine volunteered as the mystery partner. The L-A-Z and Kaine got the W. And then Pleasant turned on NC-17 with the World title belt, nearly ended the World Heavyweight Champion, and Ricky Tenet charged through the AEGIS line to save his father.

Jason Johnson: And then he hesitated handing the belt back. That moment will echo for weeks, Eryk.

Eryk Masters: Johnny Napalm comes down from the crowd, tells the SHOOT Project that before 2026 is out he's walking out World Champion, and issues an open challenge on his Empire State belt. The Unholy One answered. And Charon of Death cost The Darkspade that match, Jace. Then she faced him across the ring, called him a coward to the Pinnacle, and promised unfinished business.

Jason Johnson: Father and daughter. Reaper and ferryman. SHOOT Project has turned into a Greek tragedy, Eryk.

Eryk Masters: We also can't forget the red-robed figure on the Jumbotron. Someone torched Madison Seton's ring gear live on our screen and told her she'd been "chosen." Credit to the Empire for getting her a spare set. Credit to Madison for walking into a Master of the Mat semi-final and giving Arthur Pleasant everything she had. Pleasant got the win. But whoever that was in the red robe? They are just getting started.

Jason Johnson: Which brings us, Eryk, to the brackets. Because we walked in tonight with semi-finals. We walk out with a final. Two of them.

Eryk Masters: The Tag Team Master of the Mat final is set. The World Warriors against 16 Chambers. Veterans against underdogs. X-Calibur and Michael Draven are two of the most decorated soldiers this sport has ever produced. Ignatius Albert Martin is a former SHOOT World Champion who reinvented himself. Josiah Hudson is a rookie who nobody had on their bingo card three months ago. Pedigree versus hunger, Jace. You tell me who you like.

Jason Johnson: I can't call it. And I can't call the singles final either, Eryk. Jamie Johnson against Arthur Pleasant for the 2026 Master of the Mat. You want to talk about loaded?

Eryk Masters: Loaded does not begin to cover it, Jace. Jamie Johnson is Real Deal's boy. Arthur Pleasant is X-Calibur's boy. And before a lot of the folks watching this show tonight had ever heard the words "SHOOT Project," Real Deal and X-Calibur ran side by side in a group called Instant Heat. Old tag partners. Old brothers.

Jason Johnson: And now their sons meet in the finals of this company's most storied tournament. Legacy matches like that don't happen by accident, Eryk. That match has twenty years of history pressing down on it before anyone throws a punch.

Eryk Masters: And you're going to want to be here for every second of what comes next. Thank you, New York City. Thank you, the Pinnacle. For Jason Johnson, I'm Eryk Masters. We will see you in two weeks.

The camera pulls back from the commentary desk, catching the wide shot of the Pinnacle on its feet. The SHOOT Project Zenith logo glows gold on the Tron. The house lights come up. Zenith 015 fades to black.