Day 1 - A Block - Brooklyn, NY - 9/24/2018!

The show opens with a slow fade in of a photo of the late Vlad Blackheart as the intro to Charlie Puth's "See You Again" begins. The song continues on as vintage highlights of Vlad's career are shown in chronological order. From the beginning of his career including his start in the indies to his numerous moments that took place within NFW. Everything from his "Easy V" days to his equally memorable days as the darker Vlad The Impaler. As the highlights continue, we hear Commissioner Steven Brody in voice over only....

"Two years ago...the world said goodbye to a legend of the wrestling world...as he was tragically taken from us...."

As Brody's voice says this, the vignette shows a brief clip of the news broadcast - "Pro Wrestler Among Several Deaths In Tragic Plane Crash."

The video resumes the highlights of Vlad's career and life, this time, through photographs taken both from personal family members as well as NFW staff. Images of him hoisting various titles over head, locked up and/or facing off against his most memorable opponents. Images are seen of him with the likes of Big Daddy Payne and Judas Lasher, both in their younger days. Brody's voiceover continues....

"He was an icon...and an inspiration to all around him...."

The focus of the memorial video switches to more personal moments of Vlad's life, such as photos from his wedding to Lara Chastain, to holding their newborn daughter with a natural, beaming smile on his face.

"A devoted husband...and a loving father...."

Images continue to chronolize Vlad's years as he moved from wrestling to passing on his knowledge. One shot is shown of him carrying a much younger Rick Dickulous on his back with a goofy smile aimed at the camera. Another shot is shown of him, kneeling down in the training ring of Big Daddy Payne's Pittsburgh gym, in the middle of what looks to have been a sit down lesson with teenagers Lara, Marissa, Morgan, Nico and Adrianna all sitting intently and listening to him. Finally, the couple of images show him in the ring of an independent venue, lifting Lara off of the mat in an emotional hug, followed by one that was taken moments later of Vlad proudly raising her arm in the air after she won her first match. The very last shot shows another family shot of Vlad, Lara Chastain and their daughter together with the text:

~In Loving Memory Of Vlad Blackheart~

~ Jan. 14, 1975 - May 5, 2016~

"While it is with a heavy heart, that we say goodbye to our beloved friend, Vladimir Blackheart, it is with tremendous respect...that we honor his memory...and legacy...."

As Brody is heard saying this, the previously mentioned image slowly fades out as the opening chords of Saliva's "Ladies And Gentlemen" are heard. In a more, upbeat, uplifting video, the stylized logo made explodes onto the screen.

~NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING PRESENTS~

~THE VLAD BLACKHEART MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT~

The heavy voiced announcer from the block announcements is heard, now, as short clips of the A Block competitors are shown hitting their signature movesets.

"THIS...IS THE VLAD BLACKHEART MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT!!"

"TWENTY MEN!!"

"EIGHTEEN MATCHES!!"

"TWO BLOCKS!!"

"ONE WINNER!!"

"INTRODUCING...A BLOCK!!"

"MCKEESPORT MAFIA'S...SHELTON...BENJAMIN!!"

"MATT...KLAZZIC!!"

"CHRIS WOLFE!!"

"THE DOMINION OF PAIN'S...THE BUZZSAW!!"

"NFW SILVER MOUNTAIN CHAMPION...THE GREAT WHITE NORTH'S...RICK...DICKULOUS!!"

"THE BIG RED MACHINE...KANE!!"

"SUZUKI-GUN'S...PRO-WRESTLING MASTER...ZACK...SABRE...JUNIOR!!"

"THE GOLDEN STAR...KOTA...IBUSHI!!!"

"THE URBAN GLADIATOR...NICO...SALVATORE!!"

"NFW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION...THE RENEGADE'S TORONTO DAREDEVIL...MAX...LEBRUN!!"

As the video ends, the shot cuts to ringside in the Brooklyn arena as the stage pyro goes off and the crowd goes wild. As always, Nick Hanson and James Reynolds greet everyone on commentary.

Hanson: "WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! I'M NICK HANSON...JOINED BY JAMES REYNOLDS!! THANK YOU ALL FOR JOINING US HERE AT THE BARCLAY CENTER IN BROOKLYN, NEW YORK!! THIS...IS THE VLAD BLACKHEART MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT!!"

Reynolds: "THE *INAUGURAL* VLAD BLACKHEART MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT, NICKY!!! THIS IS JUST THE FIRST OF A NEW TRADITION THAT COMMISSIONER STEVEN BRODY IS IMPLEMENTING EACH YEAR!! IT'LL BE THE BIGGEST TOURNAMENT THIS COMPANY HAS EVER SEEN, WITH THE OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFETIME AT STAKE!!"

Hanson: "You said it, Jim! We will see twenty men, separated into two blocks, compete against one another in a total of eighteen matches, all leading up to the final where the winner will recieve a contract for a World Heavyweight Championship match at WrestleWar in January of 2019. And let me tell ya, Jim; I've been looking at the matches lined up for this entire thing and...."

Reynolds: "Yeah?"

Hanson: *laughing with anticipation* "Oh-ho-ho man, this is gonna be good. Of course, we've got other matches, as well, for fans to enjoy. We'll be kicking each night off with prelim matches, leading into the block matches for each night. This is gonna be one hell of an event. Without further adue, let's get started!"

Reynolds: "GET SOME!!!!!"

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"I'm twenty-five years old. But I've already got six years in this ring." Chris Wolfe sat on a bench in the locker room, towel around his neck. Looking up, he no longer wore the facepaint he'd worn as a member of the Circle of Snakes, and now wore his old red gear from the independents. "I listened to a fraud when he told me he could lead me to greatness. Not realizing that I was *already* great. But my eyes are wide fuckin' open now. I'm on my own now... exactly where I should be. And tonight I start making a real name for myself. On the biggest stage N*FW has ever created."

As Chris Wolfe spoke, he was suddenly joined by a female form that stepped in from the side. Panning up, the shot reveals the sudden arrival as that of NFW Women's Champion, Adrianna Salvatore, dressed in her ring gear with a black, zip up hoodie over it. While the hood was up, it was done in that girlish style of only covering the back half of her head. This did well enough to reveal the slow smile that formed over her black painted lips as - for the first time since Highway to Hell - she was seen with one of her former Circle of Snakes brethren. The crowd watching from the ringside area gave an audible pop at the sheer sight of this.

"Well god DAMN. Look at this." He turned, smiling brightly at the woman. "Lookin' good, A. Wasn't sure if you still wanted to even talk to any of us, so... figured I'd give you some space."

"You jerk." She said in a tone barely recognized as playful, simply given her still dark demeanor. She gave him a light shove in the shoulder before crossing her arms under her chest. "I never had a problem with you or Ty. You guys got used just as much as I did." She shook her head. "But, fuck all that. It's done and over with. I realized I hadn't talked to you guys in a minute, so I wanted to come see how you were doing...." She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "So this is like...your big singles debut, sorta, yeah? You feeling good about it?"

"I am, yeah. I feel damn good." He reached over to playfully slug her on the shoulder, grinning a little. "I let dickhead convince me to be a tag team wrestler... but this is what I'm used to. And I get to show what I'm worth against the World Champion, right off the bat. Gonna make my mark tonight, babe. I know it."

"Oh yeah, definitely." Adrianna agreed with him, giving a quick fist bump as she said, "Someone needs to shut his fucking mouth. Especially after...." Even though she trailed off in her words, clearly bothered by something regarding their conversation, it was evident what she was referencing. She didn't need to say it out loud. Instead, she shook her head and put on another small smile - this one, more forced. "Look, if you don't mind me asking a favor...kick this thing off by putting that asshole in his place...and give him one good shot from me. As far as the rest of this tournament goes, I just wanted to stop in and say give 'em hell and that I'll be one of the ones pulling for you. You guys were among those that were there for me when I was feeling down. You've earned this shit, Chris. Show everyone what the real Lone 'Wolfe' can do."

"It's a promise." Chris told her, remembering the things LeBrun had said. "Win or lose... I'm gonna make sure that bitch takes one good kick in the mouth for you." He told her, the look on his face as serious as it gets. Without even meaning to, Adrianna had just given Chris the one thing he lacked going into this first match: Anger.

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In the first preliminary match, Vincent Stone and Great White North's El Piso Mojado defeated KUSHIDA and Jushin "Thunder" Liger in 13:10 when Stone reversed Back To The Future into FATALITY for the pinfall victory.

After the bell, the two teams shared a moment in the ring, shaking hands and bowing. Before they went their separate ways, Liger seemed to have a revelation as he looked at Stone and KUSHIDA and started to relay something to them both as best he could, given the language barrier between himself and the former.

Reynolds: "What is he...?"

Hanson: "I think he's saying how fantastic it'd be to see Stone and KUSHIDA in a one on one!"

Reynolds: "Well, Stone definitely seems to be for it!"

As Reynolds spoke, Stone grinned big with anticipation, nodding to Liger before looking to KUSHIDA for his own response. To the delight of the crowd, KUSHIDA made a motion as if he was checking his watch...before giving Stone a thumbs up and exchanging a fist bump with him. Stone answered with a 'call me' gesture before KUSHIDA and Liger left he and Piso to continue celebrating their victory.

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"SHELLZ!" Lara Blackheart called out, an adorably frustrated whine to her voice as she walked out from another part of the locker room, wearing a tight, revealing black minidress. "Do I look ok? This is what I was gonna wear for the introduction of the first round tonight. I wanna look good standing in the ring with my mom... but I need something that says 'classy, yet still totally down to fuck'."

Shelley looked up and smirked, shaking her head with a small laugh. "You look great, sweetheart. It's sexy, yet just elegant enough. You're definitely not a little girl anymore."

"Exactly. I want something that makes people equally say "Wow, Vlad's daughter is all grown up" and "Damn, I'd like to fuck the ass right off'a her". " Good lord. With a big, beaming grin, she bolted back into the changing area again, to start getting into her wrestling gear. "Me and you tonight, babycakes. Gonna beat some Renegade ass"

"If only I could keep track of who is who," Shelley lamented light-heartedly. "But yes, more or less, that dress does just that for you."

"Girl, we're gonna make your gimmick 'bad bitch with Alzheimer's' or something, I sweartagod. " Lara snickered, rolling her eyes at her friend's known predilection for forgetting names. "So, later tonight, you gonna come out to watch me and Mom help with the tournament intro?"

Shelley nodded, "Like I'd leave your side, pretty lady."

Lara came back out a few moments later, now ready to go in her green and black ring gear. "Mm. Especially after that birthday strip-o-gram, amirite?" She asked, hilariously embowing Shelley in the side with a wink. "Admit it: what I lacked in rhythm I made up for in effort."

"Oh completely," Shelley giggled with a nod. "This is why I keep you around."

"And just think, babe.... we haven't even gotten to your wedding gift yet." Lara said with a loud laugh, winking at her friend. "You all set? I think it's time we got teach Brodeur and Frost a lesson in respect."

Shelley nodded with a grin, "Always ready. I live for this. It's almost as fun as stunt work."

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In the second preliminary match, Team Merlex defeated The Unwanted in 13:39 by pinfall after Alex Brody delivered the Absolute Zero to Adrianna Salvatore and made the cover. The crowd went WILD!!

Hanson: "WHOA!!"

Reynolds: "WHAT?!"

Hanson: "She just pinned the champion! Alex Brody just pinned the Women's Champion!"

Reynolds: "Wait...does that mean what I think it means?!"

Hanson: "I-I don't know! I think?! Maybe?! It was a tag team match, but still!!"

Reynolds: "Talk about a women's David and Goliath match right there!"

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"Hello ladies and gentlemen! Amy Connors here, and I'm being joined by none other than the members of the McKeesport Mafia!" Inside, what appeared to be an interview room, Amy Connors sat in her own chair where three more chairs were lined up to her right. Sitting in each of them was one of the members of the McKeesport Mafia that were all going to be competing in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. "Now, we're here, tonight, to get each gentleman's insight going into the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. A contest where each competitor will wrestle nine matches over the course of a month to determine the number one contender to the NFW World Heavyweight Championship at WrestleWar in January of next year. I'd like to start off with the member that we will be seeing first as A Block begins later, tonight: Shelton Benjamin."

Turning to Shelton Benjamin in his seat, Amy Connors smiled professionally. "Welcome, Shelton. You'll actually be in the first block match that fans get to see. Some say it'll be the match that sets the bar for the tournament. How do you feel about that?"

"I feel that people are finally seeing things the right way." Shelton said, an arrogant tone to his voice as he sat back in the chair. "We make jokes, we make people laugh... but at the end of the day, I think people are forgetting just who the hell we are. But tonight? At least in my case? People are gonna remember, even if I have to MAKE them remember."

"Thank you, Shelton." Amy Connors nodded, visibly a little surprised at Shelton's more serious demeanor as she looked down the line of seats to his stable mates. "Moving on, I'd like to get a word from Big Daddy Payne. With all due respect, you knew Vlad Blackheart probably better than anyone else here among us. What does it mean to you to have been chosen to honor his memory as a participant in this tournament?"

"It means a hell of a lot." BDP replied, looking a little more somber than Shelton, probably at talking about their friend. "I mean.... really? I wish we weren't even having this damn thing, and that he was still here with us. But... his wife and kid deserve this. To see the best in the business giving their all to honor him."

Again, Amy Connors nodded, her own smile more empathetic as opposed to her usual bright and cheerful one. "It comes as no surprise that you are, in fact, one of the picks to win the trophy and go onto WrestleWar. That being said, another hot topic surrounding this tournament has to do with - what a lot of people are calling - a sort of dream match revisited. I'm talking, of course, about you two gentlemen, Big Daddy Payne and your long time friend and tag team partner, "The Punisher" Andrew Payne. For those who may very well remember, you two had a hellacious matchup against...well...against each other, in fact, over ten years ago at a pay-per-view that allowed the fans, themselves, to vote for matches they wanted to see. Now, while we won't be seeing that match until late in the tournament, what are your thoughts on that?" Here, she looked to Andrew Payne first.

"The Punisher" who sat dressed in street clothes consisting of black jeans and a semi-casual button up black shirt exhaled slightly, with exasperation. "You know...I still get people that come up to me to ask about that match. They say things like 'oh, that was awesome. You two beat the hell out of each other!' Yeah, we did. But, if you ask me, it was for all the wrong reasons. We had that match because people voted on it and thought two best friends kicking the shit out of one another would be a draw, and while it was, we didn't exactly go into it with optimism. This time, it's different. Either way you look at it, at least two of us out of the McKeesport Mafia were gonna end up squaring up in the ring. It just so happened that it's gonna be me and the one guy I trust to have my back more than anyone else in the world." He reached over, giving BDP a brotherly slap on the shoulder. "Do we both wanna see the end of this tournament? You bet your ass, Amy. And yeah, we feel that tiny bit of regret that one of us has to advance at the expense of beating the hell out of the other. But as professionals, we're able to look passed that and see the bigger picture. This isn't about us. This is about paying respect to a friend who busted his ass his entire career. It's about showing his family - his wife, his daughter - just how much we loved the man. And frankly? Like you said, we don't bang heads in this tournament until way down the line. First and foremost, the two of us have a little bit of...as you know I like to say, "punishment" to dish out to a certain son of a bitch who probably thought this tournament was gonna be a breeze for him. Yeah, I mean Tama Tonga. It's fine that he came into our territory and wanted to fight for a spot in this. He's one of the best. Frankly, he deserves a spot. But he crossed the line when he laid hands on my family - *OUR* family. So trust me, when I say, that aside from paying tribute to our late brother, that giving him a taste of his own medicine, even if it means cutting his run in this entire tournament short, is a big motivation moving forward."

Amy Connors nodded, turning to Shelton and BDP. "Gentlemen, your own thoughts on that matter?"

BDP bumped fists with Andy, then with Shelton. "We're gonna do this in exactly the spirit it's meant to be in. To showcase talent, and make sure the person who deserves it most gets a World Title shot. We all miss Vlad. And I guarantee you... me, Andy, Shelton... all the way to Judas, Willy, Kane, Daniels... we all miss that man. And we're gonna make him proud. And if, during it, we can break a few Guerrilla bones? Well that'll just be the icing on the goddamn cake. Let's get outta here, boys. We got some ass-kickings to plan."

"Thank you, gentlemen." Amy Connors smiled sweetly, nodding to the three before turning back to the camera. "There you have it, folks. The McKeesport Mafia is heading into the inaugural Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament as men on a mission. Don't miss a single night!" With the Vlad Blackheart Memorial logo flashing across the screen, the shot cut away and returned to ringside.

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In the last preliminary match, Lara Blackheart and Shelley Silver defeated Candi Broduer and Serena Frost in 10:18 when Silver hit Broduer with the Silver Bullet, followed by a quick cover to score the pinfall victory.

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Hanson: "Well, we haven't reached the block matches yet, and this show is bursting already!"

Reynolds: "Bursting?"

Hanson: "Yeah, you know? Like burst off."

Reynolds: "You mean 'pop off', Nicky?"

Hanson: "Oh...yeah. I guess."

Reynolds: "You're the poster boy for those 'white people' memes."

As the two commentators bickered back and forth, the camera angle brought viewers to the backstage locker rooms. The first shot shown was a close up of a Chinese mu ren zhuang, training stand. As the camera panned back, it was clear that it was currently in use by the sound of rapid, hard strikes being delivered to the wooden prongs. The entire stand, itself, shaking from the impact.

As the camera panned back more, viewers were given a very good hint as to who was training by the sight of the NFW Heavyweight Championship resting on a bench in the background, directly behind it. Further panning revealed, of course, the champion Max LeBrun, delivering quick, hard strikes and elbows to the training post. With the exception of his gloves and arm sleeve, he was already in his ring gear, evidently getting in a quick warm up before his first tournament match....

"Hey there, douche-canoe." Lara Blackheart stood in the doorway in a snugly-fitting black minidress, pink hair slightly curled and falling freely at her shoulders, trying not to smirk as she leaned to the side. Oddly, her tone sounded almost halfway affectionate. "We had an agreement, right? You're gonna go out there tonight and not worry about this Renegade shit?"

Max halted his exercise with a stiff elbow that cracked the prong he struck before turning to the younger girl. He snatched a towel off of the rack beside the training dummy and hung it over his neck with a cold smirk that had a little bit of snark mixed in. "Nice to see you, too." He said in response to her initial greeting, not really caring that she insulted him. At Lara's follow up statement, Max rolled his eyes and hung his head in exasperation before nodding once and lifting his gaze back to her. "Like I even have a choice, given Commissioner Brody's...'stipulation.' I can't decide if he's implemented that because of the fact we have Tama fucking Tonga having weaseled his way into this...or because he knows that without putting the Renegades as a whole, on a leash...we'd be the real crew running the show, here." He smiled again, more sincere...yet colder than before.

"Honestly, dipshit?" Lara laughed, rolling her eyes. "It's because of ALL you jackasses. Look, we all cheat. We all interfere. Shit, look who I'm running with these for Christ's sake! But here's the thing." She walked in, not even slightly intimidated by him. "Believe it or not? I get it. What you're trying to do with the Renegades. Kinda going about it the wrong way in my OH so humble opinion, but still. Yeah. So anyway... the thing is, there's room at the top for young and old alike. And guys like you wouldn't even BE here if not for guys like my dad. And me and you... we get along. I wouldn't call us pals or friends... but we get along. So I'm telling you one more time: respect is key. Not just respect for my dad... but respect for what this whole thing means. And respect for your future. Because you will open more eyes going at it alone and losing than you will winning the thing but doing it cheaply."

Max raised his eyebrows in, almost, a sense of amusement as he held onto the towel over his head. "You done with the whole 'respect your elders' pitch?" He asked, opening out his fingers while still holding the towel's ends with his thumbs. "Check this part out. I do...actually respect what this tournament is about. I respect your father's memory, just like I respect the memory of all of the men and women who paved the way for us younger athletes. But what has me so pissed...is the fact that there are five star performers out there--" He pointed with one hand off to the side, "--busting their asses on the independent circuit who would be right at home in this company. But instead, the majority of them have to fight harder than others to earn a spot on the roster. And by others, yeah, I mean either the 'living legends' or their second gen sons and daughters who got first dibs simply based off of their family name." He leaned in just slightly closer to Lara. "You mentioned about showing the world how badass I can 'really be'? That's exactly, what I aim to do. And it's gonna happen, unfortunately for everyone else, at the expense of the A Block lineup. And eeeeeverybody watching, Lara, is gonna see what the next generation of this company -- shit, of this business - is all about, when I finish this tournament...Heavyweight Title in one hand...and that trophy in the other...."

"Damn. You are SO much hotter when you have a fucking sense of humor, dude. Seriously. This 'grr, argh, MAX THE BARBARIAN MUST CONQUER ALL' shit is totally killin' the ladyboner I had looking at those workout pics you tweeted. Anyway... if you win? And you do it with nothing but the skill I know damn well you have? It'll be my honor to stand in that ring with my mother and present you with the trophy."

Max straightened his posture and cracked a grin. "If I were a perfect saint, I wouldn't have the moniker I earned when I first broke into this industry. However...I love a challenge just as much as any other wrestler worth his salt. So, with that said, consider it a challenge accepted. I can prove I have more skill here, just how I did at Highway to Hell." He removed the towel from around his neck. "You might've failed to notice, though...." He said, wiping the sweat off of his chest before tossing the towel onto the bench behind him, "...as much as your old man's buddies claim to have a personal motive going into this? So do I. I enjoyed our little chat, though. See you at the finals, Lara." He said with that devilish smile of his as he waved 'bye bye' to her. As she stepped off screen to take her leave, Max's smile faded to a yet unseen look of sincerity and almost...one of seeming a little unnerved. After the sound of the door to his locker room closing could be heard, the camera followed Max over to a mirror where he stood right up to the glass and turned his head just slightly to the side, giving a good look at the scarred portion of his face in the reflection. It was here that a deep exhale escaped through his nose as he suddenly began to tremble with a boiling rage. Suddenly, Max LeBrun lunged forward, striking the mirror with an elbow shot that splintered the glass before he stormed out of the frame. The camera angle lingered on the broken mirror for a moment before cutting back to ringside....

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Hanson: "Well, ladies and gentlemen, you've heard comments from a few of our tournament competitors already, as they get ready to start off A Block, here in a few short moments. However, now, we'd like to take you back to the NFW Press Conference that took place yesterday afternoon where competitors from both blocks had a few words to say about their thoughts going into this monumental event. Now, we're going to take you back to these throughout both, today and tomorrow for the first days of each block in relevance to each first match. Let's head back now and see what one of the first superstars had to say."

The camera cuts to an open room lined with reporters seated in front of a display of tables where the entire twenty man lineup of tournament competitors sit with a podium in the very middle. A text caption appears in the upper left corner of the screen that reads: "Vlad Blackheart Memorial Press Conference - 9/23/2018." Standing at the podium, already, is NFW Commissioner Steven Brody in a crisp grey suit as he smiles to the gathering of reporters.

"At this time, coming to the podium is Curry Man," Brody says as a man wearing a business suit and wearing a yellow wrestling mask with a decoration on top looking like a plate of food, makes his way to the podium. Curry Man shakes Brody's hand and looks around him, quickly shifting his focus to his left and his right.

"This is...without a doubt...the WOR...," Curry Man starts sternly before Brody quickly gets up and whispers something to his ear, causing Curry Man to look at Brody quizzically while tilting his head to the side. Curry Man pauses for a moment, then...

"KOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONI-CHI-WA, NFW!!! YOUR...SPICY...PRAYERS...ANSWERED!!! CURRY MAN...RETURNING TO NFW...as part of Vlad Blackheart-san Tournament," Curry Man says, speaking in what seems to be broken English.

"Curry Man...honored...to be in NFW. Curry Man...remember, bringing back Vlad...for Wargames match against Shinsen Kai. This...many...MANY...years ago. Curry Man...always respect...Vlad-san, so for Curry Man, this...easy choice to participate. Curry Man...aware...of change in wrestling world. Curry Man see wrestling world...missing something. Curry Man see wrestling world...missing flavor. Curry Man see wrestling world...missing spice...HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!" Curry Man says with an over melodramatic maniacal laugh.

"Curry Man see...many...opponents in block, but Curry Man sees that they...no hot. They...no spicy. They...no taste great, like Curry Man. This why, Curry Man will win, because Curry Man...," Curry Man pauses as he is gestures for an attendant in the front who brings him a white box, which Curry Man opens up, revealing an oversized yellow top hat, which he then puts on his head,

"Curry Man...is ICHIBAAAAAAAAN....HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!" Curry Man says with one last laugh as steps down and shuffles his way out of the press conference, gyrating his hips and raising the roof as he dances all the way out of the room as the door is opened for him to exit, causing everyone to murmur at what they just experienced as Brody again approaches the podium, looking in the direction at where Curry Man exited the conference before focusing back at the task at hand.

"Coming up to the podium at this ti...," Brody starts before he is quickly interrupted.

"S.C.U....S.C.UUUUUUU!!!" someone yells loudly outside the press conference, briefly startling Brody. Brody shakes his head and continues.

"Ahem, coming up to the podium at this time...Matt Klazzik," Brody says as Matt Klazzik comes to the podium dressed in a black business suit and wearing his old white and black mask.

"Thank you, Mr. Brody. I would just like to say that this is a tremendous honor to be given the final spot in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. Many of you were wondering, 'just what happened to Matt Klazzic?' Well, the answer is simple. I simply had the wrestling equivalent to what alcoholics call a moment of clarity. My goal, to show all you nice fans, that wrestling can be won in a traditional sense, is still ongoing and will be ongoing until the day I step away from this business. But it took me awhile to realize that what's considered 'old school' now is a slightly more modern time. I looked to the wrestling of the 80s for inspiration. I looked to the days of the territories, the days of Jim Crockett promotions, Bill Watts' UWF, Portland, San Antonio, Florida, for guidance when I realized that those were the places I should not have looked to for old school guidance. I needed to look to Japan to find my new direction. And I eventually found a new road. I found Kings Road and the Four Pillars for my guidance and my mind was opened. I immersed myself in the ways of the Four Pillars and while I won't know where things will lead for me, I do now that my tools have been upgraded and I find myself better prepared for the challenges ahead of me. For me, winning this tournament would be the ultimate honor, but winning and losing take a back seat to the focus and the drive to get there. I'm ready, and win or lose, everyone in my block will learn that while styles and fads may come and go, Klazzic...is forever. Thank you," Klazzic says politely as he steps down and shakes hands with Brody before returning to his seat.

Returning to ringside, the camera focuses on the ring as the ringside crew finishes straightening up after the previous match.

Hanson: "A powerful message from Matt Klazzic, folks. I--...Jim? What's wrong?"

Reynolds: "What...in the HELL...was THAT all about?!"

Hanson: "What are you talking about?"

Reynolds: "Curry Man! What the hell is wrong with that guy?!"

Hanson: "I think he's a riot."

Reynolds: "I think he's an idiot!"

Hanson: "Well, to each his own, partner. So here we go, folks! It's time for the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament to officially begin! Now, as a reminder, it's two points for a win, zero for a loss and one point goes to each man in the case of a draw if the match reaches twenty minutes. Jim and I are gonna do our best throughout the event to keep you updated on the point standings as this event goes on but you'll be able to see them each week, Friday, on NFW's official Facebook page! You ready, Jimmy?"

Reynolds: "Ohhh, I'm ready Nicky!"

Hanson: "I think we all are. Let's get this show rolling!"

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Shelton Benjamin defeated Matt Klazzic in their A Block match at 14:52 after delivering two superkicks, followed by a T-Bone Suplex for the pinfall.

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Directly after the closing of the match, the camera cut back to find Vincent Stone walking briskly through the hallway. The dampness of his hair said as much that he was already washed up from his tag match that opened the evening. Now, instead of his ring gear, he wore a pair of black track pants, chuck taylor sneakers and an original, vintage "BUZZSAW" t-shirt that was clearly an original release but, despite the years it had seen, was still in fairly good shape. Obviously very well taken care off.

Without missing a beat, Stone came to a stop at the Dominion of Pain's locker room. Only there, did he pause with a sudden sense of nervousness.

Hanson: "What's he so shaky about?"

Reynolds: "You see where he is, Nicky?"

Hanson: "True..."

Reynolds: "Does he have a death wish?"

Those watching would find out, soon enough, as Vincent Stone knocked firmly on the locker room door, pausing for a second. "....Please don't let me die..." He knocked again. "Yo! Buzzsaw! It's Stone! You got a minute?" He called through the door, first, before starting to knock again, only to have the door opened and replaced by the terrifyingly, monstrous form of DOOMSDAY!!! Stone had to stop himself from knocking on Doomsday's chest as he looked up at the man like a fish in the sights of a great white. "Ummm...."

Doomsday - dressed in all black including jeans, boots and a sleeveless Meshuggah t-shirt - silent still, gave Stone a once over before seeming to focus on his shirt before slowly stepping to the side and thumbing into the locker room. "Th-thanks...!" Vincent Stone said before sliding into the locker room with the camera following him, passed Doomsday who took up half of the doorway when he was turned to the side.

Buzzsaw looked up from the bench he sat at, fastening his kickpads before standing. Even with his mask on, he clearly looked a combination of slightly annoyed but also very curious. "Stone. What brings you by?"

Stone came to a stop by where Buzzsaw was sitting, looking warily over his shoulder as if he were expecting Doomsday to suddenly try and eat him before turning fully to Buzzsaw. "Sorry, man. I know you're getting all set for the tournament. I just wanted to catch you before you had your first match because I don't wanna break your focus going forward. But first off, I wanted to just say that, as someone who didn't make weight for this, watching this as a fan? For what it's worth, I'm pulling for my long time, favorite badass to go all the way." He gestured towards his Buzzsaw shirt. "Secondly, I owe you a thank you. I know you've got your own goals here in the company but, I've been taking your advice you gave me back when you gave me a go at the TV Title, and I think it's been working. I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere in career, especially after that slump I hit...and it's mostly thanks to the guy who made me wanna do this in the first place. TL;DR version?" He tentatively offered out a hand to the Television Champion. "Kick everyone else's asses...and thanks for everything."

"You know... I'll tell you something that people don't realize." Buzzsaw told him, before clearly trying not to laugh. "You get guys like LeBrun and Morrison talking about how I'm one of the older guys who won't give up my spot... I'm only thirty years old, brother. I was only 18 when I entered the original N*FW. So I'm not really all that much older than you. So just... look at me as a peer, ok? I know Judas will probably sneer at this, but I'm willing to help you out a little, if you want it. Develop that killer instinct a bit, sharpen up those moves..."

Stone nodded as Buzzsaw spoke. "Right, right. I mean shit, you, me, and them are right around the same damn age. So, I don't get them taking shots towards you, either. But, whatever gets their rocks off." He shrugged, going slightly wide eyed at the man's offer to lend a hand to his own technique. "Really? You're kidding! I mean, I'm all for it, believe me. Just...hell, as long as you don't catch too much flack for it...." He looked off to the side where, in the background, Doomsday had taken a seat in a chair and - hilariously enough - had some kind of book in his hand that he was reading. The older man seemed to have a sixth sense that said Stone was looking his way and lifted his head, slowly shaking it. "This is Buzzsaw's call. I ain't saying shit." He said, before looking back down at the book and turning the page. Stone turned back to Buzzsaw and nodded. "Man, it'd be an honor. And I give you my word, the last thing I'm gonna do is let you down."

"Look... this ain't gonna make you safe from The Dominion or anything... but Judas won't care. He knows his time's almost up, man. He wants this stable to live on when he can't wrestle anymore. So he's gonna have to start taking our advice on people we think are worthy. So consider this me wanting to see if you're one of the worthy ones." He said, again surprisingly eloquent for a man so terrifying. "Once this tournament is over... come find me. It won't be easy, and you might hate me before we're done. But when we're finished? You're either gonna be retired or five times tougher than you ever thought you'd be."

Again, Stone nodded with a look of determination coming over him. Calculation visible in his eyes as he offered a fist bump to the man. "You got it, man. I'll catch you at the end of all this. Until then, kick some ass. I'll be rooting for ya!" Stone stepped off camera and could be heard leaving the locker room as the camera moved to center on Buzzsaw. A few seconds later, Doomsday's massive form came stepping into the frame where he sat down beside the man, watching the direction of the locker room door. "...You think he's got what it takes?"

Buzzsaw gave a nonchalant shrug, before sitting back down to start taping his wrists. "I think so. He's damn good in the ring. But he's got no killer instinct. If I can bring that out of him, I think he could be big. But... I'll worry about that later. I got Big Willy's kid tonight. He's a fucking idiot, but he's also one tough son of a bitch."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris Wolfe defeated Max LeBrun in their A Block match by pinfall in 18:09 after hitting a stunning, flipping dropkick from the top rope, followed by a tight rollup.

The crowd ROARED as Max shot up from the mat and grabbed his hair with his hands, wearing a shocked and enraged look on his face.

Reynolds: "HOLY CRAP, NICKY!! TALK ABOUT AN UPSET!!"

Hanson: "WOLFE CAME OUTTA NOWHERE WITH THAT VICTORY!! A VICTORY, JIMMY, OVER THE *CHAMPION*!!"

Reynolds: "Welp!!! You know what that means!!"

Hanson: "You're damn right, I do!! And the oppertunity's there is Chris Wolfe wants it! He just earned the right to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship before the end of the year!"

Reynolds: "Shit, I wouldn't mind seeing these two go at it again!!"

Hanson: "I don't think anybody would!!"

Reynolds: "Oh, look at LeBrun. He is LIVID!!"

As Chris Wolfe celebrated in the ring, Max LeBrun proceeded shove security and ringside attendants out of his way before backpedaling towards backstage as he watched Chris Wolfe in the ring...and gave a wicked smile of amusement....

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*Guitar riffs sound, as a computer generated, sports themed intro plays. The title on the screen reads: "Canadian Sports Spotlight: with host Ron MacLean." Seated behind a glass table, Ron MacLean smiles as the music and graphic fade out*

"Good evening, Canada, welcome to Canadian Sports Spotlight! As always, I'm your host, Ron MacLean."

"Tonight we delve into the raucous, rowdy, and sometimes ridiculous world of professional wrestling. Not typically viewed as a traditional Canadian sport, wrestling is making a lot of headway in recent years, both at the top, in, for example, the WWE, and also on the smaller independent circuts - where events are held in a boxing club or perhaps a high school gymnasium."

"This evening we look at a promotion in that upper echelon. One on par with the likes of the WWE, Ring of Honor, and New Japan Pro Wrestling. Tonight we look at a promotion holding a tournament to honour one of its most colourful and memorable performers who was unable to see the rebirth of the promotion he helped propel into homes across the globe."

"I'm talking about the NFW, and the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. Under the leadership of Commissioner Steven Brody, the NFW has made a resurgence of late on screens across the continent, and with the recent partnership with New Japan Pro Wrestling, half the globe. The tournament is his brainchild, and showcases twenty of the best names on the roster competing for a World Heavyweight Championship match at a future event called Wrestle War. With me today I have one of the competitors in the tournament as my special guest, and that man is Toronto, Ontario's own Rick Dickulous, a man who needs little introduction to fans of professional wrestling."

*The camera cuts to a second, wider angle shot. Rick sits beside Ron at the table, and is wearing a tight, red and white vertical striped sport coat over his usual ring gear. He looks directly into the camera and waves with a big smile on his face*

"Holy....poop, guy! I can see myself on that TV back there!"

*Rick points off camera and laughs, waving first one arm, then both. Ron chuckles and smiles as Rick stops waving, a voice mutters unintelligibly off camera. Rick turns and looks at the camera again*

"I'm sorry, Karen-guy, I got excited. I still can't get over all of this shi--I mean, uhh, stuff."

*Ron shuffles his papers as Rick turns back to face him*

"Rick, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come and talk with us here today."

"Ron, I can't get over the fact thay I'm on effing Canadian Sports Spotlight, buddy! This is every Canadian kid's freakin' dream!"

"Rick, let me cut the fat here. What is the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament to you?"

"Ron, friend, it means a lot. Honestly. Vlad was one of those guys who would give anything for his family, eh? Family, to him, wasn't just blood though. I mean, he had lots of brothers from other mothers, know what I mean, guy?"

*Ron shifts and smiles*

"Of course, Rick. It's a lot like a hockey team, or a baseball team. I see it all the time all over the NHL and in he junior leagues. It's an integral part of being a successful, cohesive unit. I saw on twitter you had mentioned Vlad considered your father, William "The Mangler" Mannheim among his brothers, and by default, you as well."

*A tweet from Rick is shown on screen:

"Vlad used to give me piggyback rides and talk to me like he was Yoda when I was a kid, guy - hate to break kayfabe, but he did it in the locker room even when he and my dad were feuding.

This is for him.

"Always pass on what you have learned." -- Master Vlad (and Yoda)"*

*As the tweet fades out, a closeup of Rick's face fills the screen, Ron MacLean's voice speaks*

"Powerful words. What does it mean to you to be taking part in a tournament to honour the memory of Vlad Blackheart, a man who obviously was an influence on you as a youngster?"

"Ron, it's an honour, buddy. Honestly. To know that the NFW and all the fans think I'm doing a good enough job to be invited to take part? That says a lot, eh?"

*The camera switches back to the wide shot, showing both men behind the glass table*

"Absolutely. I have here a list of your competition, and what I want to do is get your take on each one of them, if that's ok?"

"Ron, guy, the only thing I'm not ok with is that you didn't bring Don with you. I wore this jacket just for him."

*Ron chuckles*

"You must have the same tailor. Let's start this off. First up, Chris Wolfe."

*Rick smiles*

"Chris Wolfe is a pretty talented guy, guy. I mean, he's made some sh--crappy choices in friends, but that's what happens sometimes. Like this one time I had a buddy up in the logging camps named Jaques Ledoux who ballsed my toothbrush, after he found out I took his and used it to clean my a--"

"Rick! I'm going to stop you there! This is a PG rated show, so let's move on. How about Matt Klazzic?"

"Matt? I mean, he's got a sense of humor, and he's got that really cool mask....but other than that? I don't know, guy. I mean, I don't DISLIKE him...not tryin' to throw shade or anything, y'know?"

*Ron nods*

"Completely. Next, Kota Ibushi, of Ibushi Puroresu Kenkyujo."

"See, now you're getting to the meat and potatoes, Ron. Kota is definitely a competitor, eh? I mean, he's big in Japan...but I'm huge, guy! See what I did there, buddy!"

*Ron's face sinks, Rick continues*

"I made a short joke, Ron! Come on, guy! That was gold! I give you gold, and you give me nothing...I don't think I like this game anymore."

*Ron continues*

"What about the man once called "The Big Red Machine," of course, I'm talking of Glenn Jacobs, or Kane as he's known in the ring."

"Jesus, Ron. That's the one I think is gonna be the most fun - at least for me, guy! Again, not throwin'any shade, I'm truthfully excited, eh?"

"Excited to face Kane? Most other wrestlers are a little more wary..."

"Not me, buddy. I told Glenn when I was a kid that one day I'd wrestle him for real...and now I'm getting that chance. It'll be one hell of a good match!"

*Ron nods*

"Next we've got Shelton Benjamin, a man you've already had a run in with since the NFW made its resurgence."

*Rick laughs*

"You mean when I thrust my crotch at him from outside the ring when he was fighting Adam Fu--I mean, FREAKIN' Cole, guy? Yeah. That wasn't really a run in as much as a distraction...I mean, I had to do what I had to do. He was gonna win that match, and then I wouldn't have been able to have that awesome streetfight match, eh? So, I'm looking forward to that one too. I'm still waiting for him to tell me he's ready to come after my Silver Mountain Championship, but he's doing his own thing with BDP and Andy...and that's cool too, know what I mean, guy?"

"What about Zack Sabre Junior? Another performer from New Japan Pro Wrestling?"

*Rick smiles at Ron*

"Buddy, without Suzuki-Gun backing him up, I don't know. I mean, he's a good technical wrestler, and that'll give him a bit of an advantage, but I don't think that's gonna be enough to win it all. I think we'll have a good match, and I think the fans will like it too, guy!"

*Ron smiles at the camera, tapping his papers on the table*

"There are three names left in your bracket for this tournament, and we'll bring you Rick Dickulous' take on them when we return to Canadian Sports Spotlight."

*The theme music begins playing as the shot switches to a high crane cam, which slowly widens the shot as the picture fades*

*An old black and white movie showing men 50 feet away from the camera walking into a snow covered firest. The old reel skips in places, every so often there seem to be small jumps in time. The men all carry buckets and appear to be laughing silently as soft music plays. A soothing male voice speaks over the music*

"For years Canadians have ventured into snow covered forests to harvest the sap of the mighty Canadian maple just before the arrival of spring..."

*The old movie is replaced with a modern, colourized shot of a spigot sticking out of a tree, clear liquid dripping into a bucket hanging underneath it*

"This liquid is the main ingredient of the lifeblood of Canadians everywhere, and once processed and sweetened..."

*Dark brown, viscuous liquid pours from a filling machine into five bottles positioned under the nipples of the filler. The bottle fills to the top, the nipples stop pouring, and the five bottles are mechanically whisked away as five new empty bottles replace them and the process continues*

"It is transformed into a part of a healthy breakfast!"

*The camera pans out from a closeup of a plate of pancakes to show a full breakfast, placed perfectly on a beautiful, complimentary table setting. Eggs, bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, toast, juice, milk, and three pancakes look good enough to eat*

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and Rick Dickulous agrees, that's why he is proud to introduce 'Tree Blood,' his new line of Maple Syrup, being sold exclusively in the NFW online store!"

*Cut to a shot of Rick Dickulous holding a bottle shaped like a giant drop, with red, bleeding letters spelling out the product name, with a white silhouette of Rick's face. The letters make it seem as though his forehead is bleeding. Rick smiles into the camera*

"Tree Blood is the best maple syrup you can buy, guy! Let me show you why!"

*The camera pans out to a table with two stacks of pancakes on two separate plates. In front of one, a sign reading "OTHER GUYS," and one in front of the other with "TREE BLOOD" on it in the product's bleeding font*

"Here we have two stacks of Grandma's buttermilk pancakes. These motherfuckers right here would make a beaver chew it's balls off to get out of a trap just to get the crumbs - no shit, it happened once...followed the trail of blood all the way back to the tough sumbitch's ballsack hangin' there frozen as fuck!"

*An inaudible voice is heard off camera and Rick focuses off to the side, shielding his eyes from the stage lights*

"What? This is supposed to be PG? Fuck that, you definitely got the wrong fuckin' guy to do this shit show.....you want me to keep going?"

*The off camera voice is much more clear this time*

"Rick, kids are supposed to see this and buy your product. That's how this is supposed to work...I mean, you can't drop f-bombs if kids are watching."

"Man, fuck the kids..."

*Rick looks into the camera*

"I mean that totally non sexually....like, they've heard and said worse by now..."

*The camera adjusts, Rick points at the pancakes*

"We doin' this or not, buddy? These pancakes are makin' me hungry as fuck!"

*The off camera voice again audible*

"Just run with it and we'll shoot another one later..."

*Rick picks up the OTHER GUYS syrup and pours it over the pancakes. It seems to be runny, and not as dark as the syrup pouring into the bottles from earlier in the commercial*

"See how this shit just goes everywhere? Like, this syrup is seriously fuckin' the dog in every aspect. It's making a fuckin' great lake on my plate, and that means soggy pancakes. That, my friends, is a travesty."

*Rick picks up the TREE BLOOD bottle and pours it over the other stack of pancakes. It has a reddish tint to it, and while it flows, it is very thick and non viscuous, looking almost like real blood*

"Tree Blood is my jam - literally! See that red colour? Motherfuckin' strawberry JAM, GUY!"

*Rick excitedly dips his finger into the syrup and puts it in his mouth. He loudly cleans his finger and points it at the camera*

*The Canadian Sports Spotlight theme music plays, as the shot fades in to the wide angle front on shot of Ron MacLean and Rick Dickulous. Rick sits with his legs spread far apart, dangerously close to showing his junk. Suddenly he looks off camera and snaps his legs closed, the computer animated title fading from the shot. Rick sits up and adjusts his kilt, waving off camera*

"Sorry, Karen! My ba--I mean, my nether regions were uncomfortable, guy! This kilt is freakin' hot, guy!"

*Ron MacLean clears his throat*

"Welcome back to Canadian Sports Spotlight. We continue with our guest, Rick Dickulous, the Silver Mountain Champion of the NFW, and a fellow proud Canadian! Rick, we covered six of the nine competitors in your tournament bracket for the inaugural Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, and now we go over the last three."

"Let's start with The Buzzsaw. A member of The Dominion of Pain, and current NFW Television Champion. He has been on a warpath of late, it seems. He's been defeating opponents without so much as a care...how do you see your match going against him?"

*Rick takes a big breath, then exhales*

"Ron, guy, I think that match might be the second worst in the bracket as far as the censors are concerned - at least out of my matches. I mean, the guy's an NFW vet. He was around when my dad was bleeding in every arena across the continent. He was around when people were putting their lives on the line every night for a few cheers or boos, buddy. That's why the censors won't like our match...because I see blood, guy."

"He was also a friend of Vlad Blackheart's, how do you think that will affect his performance in the tournament?"

"Guy, he's gonna wrestle his...butt off. But so am I. That's why I see blood. Neither one of us are gonna just lay down, and the fans are gonna win bigtime!"

*Ron solemnly nods*

"How about "The Urban Gladiator" Nico Salvatore? You and he have already been in a match against each other, and it seems as though you and he are on the same page when it comes to The Renegades. How will that affect your strategy?"

"Ron, it won't, friend. Nico's good shi--Nico's a good guy. I'd have his back in a heartbeat. But Vlad was a better guy, and this tournament is in his honour - no offense, Nico. At the end of the day, Ron, I think my match against Nico will be a six star match. Power, resilience, and most of all, sportsmanship. That's what's missing these days, guy...good, healthy sportsmanship."

"What about the fact that his father, Doomsday, is a man who has been on your radar for some time?"

"The walnut doesn't fall far from the tree, or so they say, guy...but that walnut grows into its own tree, eh? Kaiju and Nico aren't the same guy, guy. I don't have to get along with his dad to get along with him, buddy."

*Ron smiles broadly*

"Some deep thoughts, Rick. Now how about the last name. The name our viewers have been waiting to hear. The name on every NFW fan's lips these days, of course I'm talking about "The Toronto Daredevil" Max LeBrun. A man who not only comes from the same city as you, but who has exploded onto the NFW scene alongside his group, The Renegades. He trained with your stablemate, "The Tapout King" Scott Leroux, and recently won the NFW World Championship from him. What do you make of him?"

*Rick scoffs*

"He should be calling himself "The Missisauga Menace." Max is nothing more than an oldtimer bitch--err, complaining about other oldtimers, Ron-guy. Seriously."

"Rick, Max was 17 years old when he wrestled previously in the NFW, and even then only with a parental consent waiver..."

"Ron, friend, was his name on the card back then?"

*Ron thinks for a second*

"Well, yes, however his career wa--"

"If his name was on the card, guy, he's an oldtimer. Yeah, he got barbecued by Kane - I'm waiting to see it happen again, just sayin - and yeah, that cut his career short. But he's complaining about guys who didn't get injured still doing what they love...because they can, eh? Like, seriously, nobody held him down but himself - this attitude he's got now? It's always been there, guy...it just didn't spew out of his mouth like it does now."

"Rick, Max's complaint is that the older superstars are taking centre stage, and passing that success on to their children. Your father, as we touched on earlier, is one of those Max Lebrun has called out - and as a result, you as well. He claims that without your father's help, you wouldn't be in the position you're currently in...what do you say to that?"

*Rick's face shows annoyance, but his voice remains even*

"Honestly, guy? Max is pissed off because he didn't make friends with the right people. Max is pissed off because he feels like everyone else is being handed things on a silver platter. Well, Max can look in the mirror and see the problem. The truth hurts, friend."

*Rick looks into the camera and points*

"MAX LEBRUN IS HOLDING MAX LEBRUN BACK, GUY! SORRY, NOT SORRY!"

*Ron MacLean clears his throat as Rick shakes his head and regains compisure*

"Sorry, guy. I get a little worked up about this."

"Rick, last question: if you win the tournament, and along with it, a match for the World Heavyweight Championship, what can we expect from you between now and Wrestle War?"

*Rick shoots his usual emphatic grin at Ron*

"The same thing you've seen from me since the beginning, friend. I give every match my all, because every fan deserves to see the best show they've ever seen, guy! It won't be any different."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank Rick Dickulous for coming to the studio today.."

"Ron, guy, my pleasure. Thanks for having me, and sorry to Karen for almost showing all of Canada my balls! They were st--"

*Rick's mic suddenly cuts out*

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Ron MacLean, and this has been Canadian Sports Spotlight. Thank you, and good night, Canada!"

*The scene fades out as Rick is still attempting to talk into the microphone attatched to the lapel of his jacket while Ron MacLean shakes his head and touches his forehead*

Cutting back to ringside, we hear Nick Hanson laughing.

Hanson: "I love that guy."

Reynolds: "He's a fucking moron! Just like Buzzsaw said!"

Hanson: "Well, love him or hate him, he's up next!"

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Buzzsaw defeated Rick Dickulous in their A Block in 9:21 after a series of vicious roundhouse kicks to the face before going for the cover and scoring the pinfall.

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As Zack Sabre Jr and TAKA Michinoku stood in the ring, TAKA's routine introduction of Zack was abruptly interrupted by a deafening explosion of fire on the entrance stage as the lights dimmed down to an eerie, red hue.

Hanson: "WHOA!!!!"

Reynolds: "JESUS CHRIST!!!"

Without missing a beat from the pyro, Finger Eleven's "Slow Chemical" filled the sound system of the arena. The crowd roared as smoke filled the entry way.

Reynolds: "Nicky...is this really happening?"

Reynolds asked with a tremble in his voice.

Hanson: "It is, Jim.... It is. I'll admit, I'm getting goosebumps."

Reynolds: "Jesus, where is he...? Where---"

Reynolds stopped mid sentence as a towering figure appeared through the smoke and came to stand on stage. The crowd roared as, for the first time in twelve years, the Big Red Machine, Kane, stepped into an NFW arena. The only obvious difference was that he was wearing his most recent ring gear, including his rarely seen metal face cover that went over his new mask. For a brief moment, Kane eerily stared down the walkway at Zack Sabre Jr...adjusted his glove...and began a nonchalant, yet intimidating march towards the ring.

Never taking his eyes off of his opponent, Kane reached the ring and climbed up onto the apron and stepped over the top rope before coming to stand in the center where he performed his signature ring pose of summoning the fire from the corners and the lighting returned to normal. Before the bell rang, the referee warily ushered both men back into their starting corners. It was here that Kane finally reached up and slowly removed the metal covering over his face, revealing his sneering, masked face through a curtain of dripping wet hair.

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In what could be called another shocking upset, Kane defeated Zack Sabre Jr in their A Block match in 8:48 after powering his way out of a Triangle Submission, lifting Zack up off of the ground and delivering a thunderous Chokeslam. This left him stunned enough for Kane to pick him up off of the floor and finish him off with a Tombstone Piledriver for the pinfall victory.

Reynolds: "WOW!!!"

Hanson: "Uhhh...can we say...welcome back, Big Red Machine?!"

Reynolds: "I didn't really know what to expect, honestly, but god...DAMN!!"

Hanson: "Aw, wait a minute. He's got TAKA. HE'S GOT TAKA!!"

Inside the ring, as TAKA Michinoku entered the ring to check on Zack Sabre Jr, Kane snatched him up by the throat and dragged him to the center of the ring and delivered another Chokeslam.

Hanson: "GOD!!!!"

FInally, standing over TAKA, Kane called for the pyro again before promptly rolling back over the top rope and silently making his exit.

Reynolds: "Welp...I think it's safe to say one thing, for sure Nicky...."

Hanson: "Which is...?"

Reynolds: "Heeee's baaaaaaack!"

Hanson: "In the name of all that is holy, Jim...yes he is. At least, for the time being...yes he is...."

Reynolds: "Those two put on one hell of a match but good lord, I'm still trembling from that entrance!"

Hanson: "I'm trembling from that entire thing, Jim. I've never seen anyone muscle their way out of Sabre's submission holds the way Kane did."

Reynolds: "Well, you heard the crowd during the match, Nicky! He's still got it!"

Hanson: "He does, indeed. Say, do ya think that was a message?"

Reynolds: "Pertaining to what?"

Hanson: "Ah...nevermind. Anyway folks! It's about time for our main event of the evening. Our last A Block match of the night! First, we'd like to take you back to the press conference from yesterday afternoon for more comments from the competitors!"

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Once again, the shot cut to the press conference room with the text in the upper left hand corner reading: Vlad Blackheart Memorial Press Conference - 9/23/2018. Again, standing at the podium, Steven Brody addressed the gathering of reporters. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, continuing with our Conference for the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Cup, I'd like to turn the floor over to Nico Salvatore."

From the front, left row of tables, Nico Salvatore stood out of his chair and moved up to the podium. As was probably expected, the man was dressed to impress from head to toe. A pair of black slacks with a matching jacket, over a blue silk shirt with the top three buttons left undone. Despite the sunglasses he wore over his eyes, it was clear that he wore a stern expression as he came to stand before the microphone. Clearing his throat, he made no hesitation in removing the microphone from the stand as he looked out over the gathering of reporters.

"Alright, look. I'm gonna use this time to clear the air a bit." Nico gave a forced grin before turning serious again. "Ever since they announced this tournament, people have been blowing up my social media, wanting to know what my mindset is going in." He pointed across the floor at the reporters watching. "I bet you are, too." He said, with an annoyed 'tch' sound at the end. "You wanna know, am I focused? Am I ready? Which of my opponents do I think are gonna be the toughest to take on?" He shrugged his shoulders, dismissively. "My answer? Not a goddamn one of 'em. I didn't come asking for a spot in this company; they came to me. *They* asked *me* to sign with them. They said I could be a star! I'm already a fucking star. I don't need to win a tournament to get a trophy and a sheet of paper that says I earned the right to take on the best. *I* am the best. These people in this company knew that; that's why they blew up my email, that's why they blew up my phone. You already know."

Finally, he cracks a more natural, cocky grin of his. "Now, don't get me wrong. I respect what this tournament stands for. Unlike some people." He looked to the side at someone off camera, honing in with his eyes. "I respect the ones that came before me and paved this path that I'm walking on. But most of all, I had mad respect for the man that this tournament is paying tribute to. Still do. He helped my family through some tough shit before I even started training to become a wrestler." He turned back towards the press and the cameras. "And it's because of that respect...that I'm going into this tournament with everything I got. Do I need to win this to prove I'm the best?" He shook his head. "Nah...nah. But, am I going to? Oh, shit yeah. You bet your ass I'm planning on winning this. I'm in the block with some mean dudes. We got a couple of legends who know their shit, we got the self proclaimed "Pro Wrestling Master", we even got the World Champ himself competing in this thing. Now mark my words, I may respect what they all can do, but I couldn't care less about who they are. Regardless of their legacy, regardless of their prestige in the business, I'm coming in for blood. I will run through every motherfucking last one of you until I reach the end of this road. I ain't sweatin' a goddamn soul in this block. And when I make it to the finals and take on the unlucky son of a bitch who wins on the other side? Bitch, you're gonna get it too. A stiff knee shot, right up in your fucking face and then champ?" He turned to look off camera in that same direction he did before. "You and me got unfinished business; and you better believe I'm a man of my word. I ain't finished with you. Not by a long shot. You're the one I want the most out of our entire block. F'nuc, I will *sideline* the rest of the block, if I have to, just to make sure I'm the one that ruins everything for you."

The camera panned over to show Max LeBrun sitting in his seat with the NFW World Heavyweight Title propped up in front of him; watching Nico with a cold smirk of satisfaction on his face as Nico continued. "And yeah, I know we're gonna cross paths at some point, regardless. But that ain't the end for me. I wanna ruin you. I'm *going* to ruin you. I'm gonna beat your ass in this tournament just as a prelude to what's gonna happen at WrestleWar. Paisano, you ain't even gonna make it to WrestleWar! You wanna talk about being kept out of the spotlight by others? I'm gonna leave your ass in the dark, bitch. I'm beating you in the block...then I'm taking the title shot...and I'm going into WrestleWar in your place" All of a sudden, Nico pointed off to where the competitors of the opposite block were, pointing right to where Judas Lasher sat. "That man right there? About a month back, he told me to unleash what I've been holding back. To show everyone what the 'son of the beast' is capable of. Well, mark my words...when this tournament kicks off tomorrow? A new beast...steps out of his cage.. And god...fucking...help...whoever gets in my way...." With an eerie calm about him, Nico stuck the microphone back into the stand and returned to his seat....

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Nico Salvatore and Kota Ibushi, absolutely tore the house down in Day 1's main event. To the delight of the crowd, the two seemed to almost match each other in the striking game, albeit Ibushi was clearly a little more disciplined while Salvatore appeared more aggressive and violent in his delivery.

In the final moments of the match, Kota Ibushi lifted Nico Salvatore up off of the mat, and onto his knees after a stunning, springboard moonsault and appeared to be going for the Kamigoye. Shocking the crowd, however, the dazed look on Nico's face immediately vanished -- whether it was him playing possum or a sudden realization of the imminent danger he was facing, was unclear -- and the Urban Gladiator sprung up and lifted Kota onto his shoulders.

Reynolds: "Whoa! Wait, Nicky! He's got him up! Nico's got Kota up! Can he hit it?!"

Hanson: "If he does, this could do it!"

With a sickening *SMACK*, Nico tossed Kota over his head and brought him down, delivering a sickening GFY straight to his face.

Crowd: "OHHHHHHH!!!!"

Hanson: "HE NAILED IT!!!"

Reynolds: "DID YOU HEAR THAT SHOT?!"

As Kota hit the mat, Nico staggered backwards into the ropes, breathing heavily.

Hanson: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! COVER HIM!!"

Staring down at his opponent, Nico's exhausted expression was replaced by one of a cold rage as he slowly shook his head and pushed off of the ropes, picking Kota up off of the mat.

Reynolds: "What the hell is he...?"

The crowd roared as Nico hoisted Kota up onto his shoulders a second time, letting out a yell as he delivered a second, brutal GFY to his opponent with an even louder impact, finally going for the cover then, staring into the camera with a terrifying sneer.

Hanson: "GOOD GOD!! A SECOND GFY!!"

Reynolds: "THERE'S THE COVER!! 1...2...3!!"

Nico Salvatore scored the pinfall, defeating Kota Ibushi in 15:07 in their A Block match. As Kota made his exit, notably bleeding from the mouth, Nico took hold of the microphone from the ring announcer and stepped to the center of the ring.

"I see a lot of people that disapprove.... Don't know whether it's from the outcome...or just how I went about it. I'm pretty sure I even see some that *do* approve. Frankly? I don't give a shit, either way. I told you f'nucs...I told everybody...the staff...the press...everybody on this goddamn roster. I told you...I was coming for blood. I've got mad respect for Kota Ibushi as a wrestler. He's a tough son of a bitch. But, unfortunately for him, he was in my way. I wanna make one thing...very...*very* clear...just in case anybody hasn't realized it yet. Everybody else backstage better pay attention: eight more of you's are in my way. And if you're in my way...I'm gonna knock your ass to the side so fucking hard, you won't know who the fuck you are after the fact...."

Tossing the microphone over his shoulder, Nico Salvatore made his exit as his music resumed and he slowly marched up the ramp, towards the backstage area.

Reynolds: "Wow...Nicky, you asked me earlier something about Kane sending a message. I think *THAT* was a message that Nico just put out!"

Hanson: "It certainly seemed like it! But that's our show for today folks! We look forward to having you all back with us for the second day of the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament as we kick off B Block! I'm Nick Hanson, here with James Reynolds saying goodnight everyone!"