Post by Steven Brody, CEO on Dec 3, 2018 11:26:17 GMT -8
As the NFW logo flashes across the screen, Ozzy Osbourne's "Let Me Hear You Scream" plays as the opening video recaps previous highlights of NFW ever since the re-inception on February 22, 2018. Clips from the show are intercut with segments of the actual music video that was made with the track. As Ozzy and the band play on, we're reminded of some of NFW's most insane moments thus far while members of the roster flash across the screen, staring into the camera under a grainy, black and white filter.
One by one, in sped up shots, we see each current champion with their title belts in two different shots:
- Ultra-Violence deliver a devastating double chokeslam to an opponent through a table.
- They raise their championship belts over their heads.
- The duo of Crimson Sabre and LeeAnn Viskan are each seen in action. Crimson Sabre hits a running Shooting Star Press off of the apron while LeeAnn is seen with an opponent tapping desperately to the Chemical Wedding.
- In front of a Dominion of Pain backdrop, the two stare back at the viewers, calmly holding their titles over their shoulders.
- In a quick, jarring sequence, we see Buzzsaw as he delivers the Buzzsaw kick to several opponents' faces.
- He stands right up in the camera, raising the Television Championship in a silent taunt for someone to take it from him.
- Rick Dickulous is seen delivering a variety of his hard hitting arsenal on opponents before finally landing the Misery Whip.
- With the Silver Mountain Championship over his shoulder, Rick stands in front of a Great White North banner and gives the camera a thumbs up with a wink and his trademark smile.
- Adrianna Salvatore is shown hitting her various signature moves; her running knee, the MOAB, the Ground Zero, before being shown with the rear naked choke locked in as her eyes roll back and her tongue slide out.
- In front of a backdrop for the Unwanted, she stands with the Women's Championship over her shoulder, simply lifting her eyes up to meet the camera.
- Max LeBrun is seen hitting the Slapshot and Aneurysm on various opponents.
- Holding the Heavyweight Championship up in one hand, he 'pops the pin' with his other, winking at the same time while smirking coldly and cockily. As a result of his hand gesture:
The screen explodes outward and brings us to the arena where the opening pyro goes off around the stage. The camera sweeps across the audience, showing the electric crowd. Finally, the camera cuts to the announce table. We are greeted with Nick Hanson in his usual suit and tie, James Reynolds in his laid back jeans, jacket and sunglasses look, and NFW Superstar Matt Klazzic in his black and silver mask along with his own wardrobe of a suit minus the tie. As usual, Hanson sits between Klazzic and Reynolds as a natural peacekeeper.
HANSON
"GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! WELCOME TO NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING!! As is plain and obvious we are BACK and we are LIVE in Liverpool, England, coming to you from the Echo Arena Liverpool--"
REYNOLDS
"You already said that."
Reynolds cuts Hanson off, who stops and looks at him.
HANSON
"What?"
REYNOLDS
"You already told them we're in Liverpool, Nicky. Why say it twice?"
HANSON
"Jim, what the hell are you talking about?"
James Reynolds rolls his head as he sits forward, coming out of his reclined position.
REYNOLDS
"You said: we are live in Liverpool, England, at the Echo Arena in Liverpool."
Nick Hanson stares at James Reynolds as if he just sprouted a second head.
HANSON
"No...Jim. I said Echo Arena Liverpool. That's the name of the arena."
REYNOLDS
"Yeah, I know. The Echo Arena."
HANSON
"Liverpool."
REYNOLDS
"What?"
HANSON
"The Echo Arena Liverpool."
REYNOLDS
"Wait...what?!"
Finally, Matt Klazzic chimes in, charismatic as always.
KLAZZIC
"James Reynolds, you're the reason the England looks at us Americans and bury their faces into their hands."
REYNOLDS
"The fuck did you just say to me?"
James Reynolds leans forward, looking passed Nick Hanson over at Matt Klazzic.
HANSON
"Will you knock it off? What could you possibly do to him?"
REYNOLDS
"I'll kick his fucking ass!"
HANSON
"Jim, you weigh two oh three and Matt weighs...."
Nick Hanson comically stops as he realizes something and looks over at Matt Klazzic.
HANSON
"Say, Matt, how much *do* you weigh?"
KLAZZIC
"A gentlemen never tells, Nick Hanson! Love the coat, James Reynolds!"
Matt shoots a gun finger at James Reynolds who is immediately distracted by his animosity towards Matt as he adjusts the collar of his coat and gives a smug, satisfied smile. Matt Klazzic smiles under his mask and shakes his head at the camera. Gets him every time.
KLAZZIC
"Well, now that nonsense is taken care of, folks, let's get the show underway! As always, we're kicking things off with our Television Championship match. Now, last week, we saw "The Omega" Ryan Steel take on the champion, Buzzsaw in an open invitation. It didn't end well for him, sadly. Here's a look at last week if you missed it."
The screen cuts to a freeze frame of last week's episode on 11/19/2018 in Dublin, Ireland. Ryan Steele is on his knees in the center of the ring while Buzzsaw stands with his leg blurred, coming off of the mat. Suddenly the clip plays, recapping the savage kick to Steele's face that resonated with a *SMACK*. We hear the crowd verbally express their empathy of the strike as Steele falls back to the mat. The clip ends, returning to the announce table. Matt Klazzic shakes his head.
KLAZZIC
"Absolutely heinous."
HANSON
"Heinous as it may be, it did the job and Buzzsaw is still champion. Now, Ryan Steele reportedly suffered a fractured orbital bone and sustained a severe concussion. He's expected to be out for at least three months, maybe four. However, his tag team partner, Sabastian Riley Young is looking to get revenge for his friend *tonight* as he immediately stepped up to answer the invitational for this week. After that folks, we have the final match for the first round of Tag Team Wars taking place. TMDK take on the Rebel Rousers. We've also got The King of Pain, Judas Lasher in action against McKeesport Mafia's Shelton Benjamin. Then, speaking of Judas Lasher, we saw him introduce us to his protege - the first graduate of his wrestling school; Ethan Skinner, otherwise known as Aguares. He'll be taking on The Tapout King, Scott Leroux in his debut match, later this evening. Then, there's our main event, and it's a big one."
REYNOLDS
"Motherfucking Heavyweight Championship match baby!!"
James Reynolds throws up the Adam Cole hands. Nick Hanson rolls his eyes. Matt Klazzic chuckles and shakes his head, clearly finding the antic adorable like a child who knows no better.
HANSON
"As a rightful contender to the Heavyweight Championship, Big Bad Chris Wolfe will take on the Toronto Daredevil and Renegade, Max LeBrun for the title. As most of you know, he earned this shot at the Vlad Black Memorial Tournament when he pinned LeBrun during their A Block match. Last week, he pinned LeBrun *again* so tonight, he's looking to bring it all to a close. We'll be bringing our first match to you shortly. Don't go away!"
"GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! WELCOME TO NEW FRONTIER WRESTLING!! As is plain and obvious we are BACK and we are LIVE in Liverpool, England, coming to you from the Echo Arena Liverpool--"
REYNOLDS
"You already said that."
Reynolds cuts Hanson off, who stops and looks at him.
HANSON
"What?"
REYNOLDS
"You already told them we're in Liverpool, Nicky. Why say it twice?"
HANSON
"Jim, what the hell are you talking about?"
James Reynolds rolls his head as he sits forward, coming out of his reclined position.
REYNOLDS
"You said: we are live in Liverpool, England, at the Echo Arena in Liverpool."
Nick Hanson stares at James Reynolds as if he just sprouted a second head.
HANSON
"No...Jim. I said Echo Arena Liverpool. That's the name of the arena."
REYNOLDS
"Yeah, I know. The Echo Arena."
HANSON
"Liverpool."
REYNOLDS
"What?"
HANSON
"The Echo Arena Liverpool."
REYNOLDS
"Wait...what?!"
Finally, Matt Klazzic chimes in, charismatic as always.
KLAZZIC
"James Reynolds, you're the reason the England looks at us Americans and bury their faces into their hands."
REYNOLDS
"The fuck did you just say to me?"
James Reynolds leans forward, looking passed Nick Hanson over at Matt Klazzic.
HANSON
"Will you knock it off? What could you possibly do to him?"
REYNOLDS
"I'll kick his fucking ass!"
HANSON
"Jim, you weigh two oh three and Matt weighs...."
Nick Hanson comically stops as he realizes something and looks over at Matt Klazzic.
HANSON
"Say, Matt, how much *do* you weigh?"
KLAZZIC
"A gentlemen never tells, Nick Hanson! Love the coat, James Reynolds!"
Matt shoots a gun finger at James Reynolds who is immediately distracted by his animosity towards Matt as he adjusts the collar of his coat and gives a smug, satisfied smile. Matt Klazzic smiles under his mask and shakes his head at the camera. Gets him every time.
KLAZZIC
"Well, now that nonsense is taken care of, folks, let's get the show underway! As always, we're kicking things off with our Television Championship match. Now, last week, we saw "The Omega" Ryan Steel take on the champion, Buzzsaw in an open invitation. It didn't end well for him, sadly. Here's a look at last week if you missed it."
The screen cuts to a freeze frame of last week's episode on 11/19/2018 in Dublin, Ireland. Ryan Steele is on his knees in the center of the ring while Buzzsaw stands with his leg blurred, coming off of the mat. Suddenly the clip plays, recapping the savage kick to Steele's face that resonated with a *SMACK*. We hear the crowd verbally express their empathy of the strike as Steele falls back to the mat. The clip ends, returning to the announce table. Matt Klazzic shakes his head.
KLAZZIC
"Absolutely heinous."
HANSON
"Heinous as it may be, it did the job and Buzzsaw is still champion. Now, Ryan Steele reportedly suffered a fractured orbital bone and sustained a severe concussion. He's expected to be out for at least three months, maybe four. However, his tag team partner, Sabastian Riley Young is looking to get revenge for his friend *tonight* as he immediately stepped up to answer the invitational for this week. After that folks, we have the final match for the first round of Tag Team Wars taking place. TMDK take on the Rebel Rousers. We've also got The King of Pain, Judas Lasher in action against McKeesport Mafia's Shelton Benjamin. Then, speaking of Judas Lasher, we saw him introduce us to his protege - the first graduate of his wrestling school; Ethan Skinner, otherwise known as Aguares. He'll be taking on The Tapout King, Scott Leroux in his debut match, later this evening. Then, there's our main event, and it's a big one."
REYNOLDS
"Motherfucking Heavyweight Championship match baby!!"
James Reynolds throws up the Adam Cole hands. Nick Hanson rolls his eyes. Matt Klazzic chuckles and shakes his head, clearly finding the antic adorable like a child who knows no better.
HANSON
"As a rightful contender to the Heavyweight Championship, Big Bad Chris Wolfe will take on the Toronto Daredevil and Renegade, Max LeBrun for the title. As most of you know, he earned this shot at the Vlad Black Memorial Tournament when he pinned LeBrun during their A Block match. Last week, he pinned LeBrun *again* so tonight, he's looking to bring it all to a close. We'll be bringing our first match to you shortly. Don't go away!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Revenge can be a blinding, maddeningly stupid thing." That calm, yet eerily cold voice belonging to the TV Champion opened the scene, with the camera then panning down to fall upon the masked Buzzsaw. "Take for example... Sabastian Young. In my last defense, I reduced his partner to a bloody, whimpering mess. For having a name like Steele... he ended up having quite a glass jaw. Now, any sane man would run. Would see that the same fate that befell Steele is surely waiting for them. But no."
The outline of a smirk could be seen beneath the black and red mask, as he held up the Television Title. "No... instead you chose to avenge your friend. This is no game to be, boy. This title means EVERYTHING to me. And I will not stand there in that ring and entertain your little vengeance fantasy. What I WILL do... is bend you. Break you. Destroy you. Tear you apart like a rabid animal until you beg for mercy. As Judas made clear... people seem to be forgetting just what the Dominion is capable of. And tonight? I am going to remind them. You are but a lamb, Young. A lamb about to be sacrificed to the altar of The Dominion of Pain. Are you scared, boy? If not.... you will be. I promise you that - YOU. WILL. BE."
The outline of a smirk could be seen beneath the black and red mask, as he held up the Television Title. "No... instead you chose to avenge your friend. This is no game to be, boy. This title means EVERYTHING to me. And I will not stand there in that ring and entertain your little vengeance fantasy. What I WILL do... is bend you. Break you. Destroy you. Tear you apart like a rabid animal until you beg for mercy. As Judas made clear... people seem to be forgetting just what the Dominion is capable of. And tonight? I am going to remind them. You are but a lamb, Young. A lamb about to be sacrificed to the altar of The Dominion of Pain. Are you scared, boy? If not.... you will be. I promise you that - YOU. WILL. BE."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Returning from the commercial break, the shot opened up on the ringside area. The crowd booed heavily as Chevelle's "Prove To You" filled the arena.
Inside the ring, Roger Arden stood ready with the microphone.
ARDEN
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your opening contest and it is for the NFW Television Championship! Making his way to the ring, he is the challenger. Representing the Fallen; Sabastian...Riley...Young!!"
Sabastian Riley Young makes his way down the ramp, looking ready for war as he enters the ring and immediately removes his entrance gear, throwing it outside of the ring and paces back and forth in the ring, watching the ramp.
REYNOLDS
"Goddamn, he looks ready, don't he?"
KLAZZIC
"He does, indeed."
HANSON
"Well, let's face it. Whether you love them or hate them, the Fallen have been a unit preceding their days here in NFW. Buzzsaw didn't just take out a tag team partner when he injured Ryan Steele. He put that man in the ring there's best friend in the hospital. Sabastian Riley Young's looking to make him answer for it, and he aims to do so by taking his title."
"Prove To You" fades out on the sound system as the crowd's boos dwindle down.
A few seconds go by before, suddenly, Nothingface's "Make Your Own Bones" begins playing, immediately causing the lights to take on a red, flashing effect.
ARDEN
"Aaaaaand introducing his opponent...representing the Dominion of Pain!! He is the REIGNING NFW Television Champion -- Buzzsaw!!"
The crowd pops excitedly as Buzzsaw appears out on the stage, proudly displaying the TV Championship on his shoulder. Otherwise, looking ever much the brooding killer that he is. He makes his way down towards the ring.
REYNOLDS
"I'm getting nervous guys."
HANSON
"Why's that?"
REYNOLDS
"Because you have to wonder if we're gonna see Buzzsaw put another guy on the shelf! We're not gonna have a roster if he keeps up the way he's been going."
HANSON
"Well, I can understand your concern, there."
REYNOLDS
"Hey, Matt. Why don't you challenge him next week?"
KLAZZIC
"Trying to be a comedian, huh, James Reynolds?"
REYNOLDS
"Hey, I'm hilarious."
KLAZZIC
"Don't quit your day job. Then again...."
REYNOLDS
"Wait, what?!"
KLAZZIC
"Nothing."
Back in the ring, Buzzsaw gets as far as stepping in through the ropes before Sabastian Riley Young is charging across the ring, jumping on him like a man possessed.
HANSON
"WHOA, WHOA!!! HERE WE GO, FOLKS!!! YOUNG'S NOT GONNA WAY!!"
Buzzsaw's music stops, the lights return to normal and the bell rings immediately as Young takes it to Buzzsaw, dishing out lefts and rights, backing him into a corner. Each shot clearly as stiff as can be as we hear palms, punches and elbows land across Buzzsaw's mask before the referee ends up having to intervene.
"Let him out of the corner, Young! Let's go!"
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
FOUR!!
F--!!
Young backs up, throwing up his hands, leaving Buzzsaw to regain his composure in the corner as the referee gives a quick check on him. As soon as the referee moves out of the way, however, Young's on Buzzsaw again, laying in shots until the referee intervenes again.
"Let him out, Young! Last warning!"
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
FO--!!
Young backs up, throwing his arms out in a challenge for Buzzsaw to mount an offense.
HANSON
"Young definitely not looking too happy, nor does he seem willing to follow the rules here."
REYNOLDS
"Can ya blame him?"
KLAZZIC
"We have rules for a reason, James Reynolds."
"COME ON, MOTHERFUCKER!!" Young can be heard blatantly yelling as he beckons Buzzsaw forward. Before Buzzsaw even responds, Young rushes in and continues his offense. This time, he irish whips the champion across the ring and into the opposite corner.
As he runs across the ring at him, however, Buzzsaw leans back in the corner and pops his feet up, causing Young to run right into them before he lands back down. He follows up, grabbing Young and throwing him into the corner where he starts delivering his own shots. Stiff kicks to the midsection before slapping Young across the face, causing him to slump down into the corner. Buzzsaw picks him up, however, and slings him out of the corner and to the mat, into a sitting position. Immediately, he follows with a stiff kick to the back, causing Young to reel in pain.
HANSON
"Man, those sound like they hurt. Every time."
KLAZZIC
"I can confirm that they do, Nick Hanson. They most certainly do."
After a little more of a back and forth exchange with Sabastian Riley Young taking it to Buzzsaw as best he could, Buzzsaw ended up escaping an attempt at a Dragon Suplex and hitting a snapmare on Young where he immediately locked him into the DNR, causing him to tap at 3:29.
ARDEN
"Here is your winner; aaaaaaaand STILL the NFW Television Champion....BUUUUUUZZZSAAAAAAAWW!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"That's not a comfortable hold, either, folks! Lemme tell ya!"
REYNOLDS
"Well...at least he didn't break his goddamn face in!"
"Make Your Own Bones" by Nothingface fills the arena again as Buzzsaw promptly retrieves his title and leaves the ring, heading up the ramp.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ethan Skinner is sitting backstage on a set of stairs, looking at the bill for the next card and smiles as he finally sees his name in writing, facing the so called Tap Out KIng, Scott Leroux. As the cameras catch up to him to film his reaction Lara comes around the corner and places her hand on his shoulder,âItâs Time, Aguaresâ.
Looking up he begins to speak âItâs time she says, and she is right. This time is my time. I will make The King of Pain proud. I will show the world what I am made of. I will make sheep from conquerors. I will send them to the slaughter, all for the beast of many names. I . . . . envy you Scott. Youâre the first. Youâre last name means red skinned, and when I am done with you, you will be just as your name suggests, red skinned, shorn of hair and flesh alike, because Judas wishes me to prove my point. That I am better than you, and you are the first to get given the honour to be sacrificed at our alter, surrounded with black candles, thirty three of them. Demons named etched into your chest, because you are the first sacrifice the NFW management has gifted me, and surely you wonât be the last.â
"......Jesus fucking Christ, dude." Lara said in a hushed, hilariously stunned tone. Her eyes were wide, arms crossed over her ample bosom as she gawked at him. The combination of her demeanor and her fashion sense (in this case, blue nylon shorts and a tight Motley Crue tee) made her stand out from the others in group in an almost alarming way. "You are just as weird as Judas, bro. Like... I literally just came to tell you it was time for your match, and you *monologued* me! Like a bad Bond villain or something! We're gonna work together more, dude. Cos you gotta loosen up a little."
*Tapping on the glass* âJust sending a little message to my sacrifice for tonight, through the videoscope. Do you know what I find interesting?â Looks to Lara, waiting for her response.
"Aside from mutilating puppies and listening to Slayer? No clue. Hit me." She said, her full lips curling into an amused smirk. The average observer might wonder if merely being the daughter of a founding Dominion member was enough to make her belong. But only a few knew the true, devious nature within her.
âTwo things, one Slayer sucks assballs, and two mutilitating puppies is so passe and eighties. I think there are two many Kings in the Kingdom. I wonât turn my back on Judas, because that just wonât happen, but I mean. King of Pain this and Tap Out King that. I just had me a thought, but that is for later. For now Tap Out King, I will be your Kingslayer. See you in the Ring.
"...you are so adorably weird." Lara told him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I agree though. Too many people calling themselves a king. It's our job to make them all realize that there's only one. And that's the guy who's quite possibly making out with my mom as we speak." She added, making a face like she just bit into something sour. "The GWN is pretty much on the up-and-up with us... but I'm gonna come to ringside with you, just in case Kennedy's feelin' froggy."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The camera returns to the locker room area as we see Teddy Morse and Chase Evans preparing for their match later. Evans is adjusting his knee brace as Morse is pulling on his elbow pads. Other than that, they're dressed and ready to go. For once, Teddy Morse looks calm and focused.
"You ready for this, man?" Morse looks down at Evans, able to do so only because the bigger man is sitting down. This changes as Chase stands up and pulls on his rebel flag beanie cap.
"Ready as ever, brother." Chase replies. "We still got a few minutes. Anything you wanna go over?"
At first, Teddy More shakes his head and rolls his shoulder, warming up. "Nah, man. I'm just...." Finally, comically, he loses his shit. "WE GOTT TAKE ON TMDK, MAN?!?!"
Chase Evans sips from a water bottle and shrugs his broad shoulders. "Yeah? So what?"
Morse throws his hands up. "So what?! They beat Killer Elite Squad, man!"
Evans shrugs again. "And?"
"And?!" Morse snaps. "Killer Elite Squad whupped OUR asses!" Morse spreads his arms, looking desperately up at Evans for some understanding.
"Bro, will you cool yer damn jets?" Morse says, rolling his eyes and setting his water down. "Yer freaking out worse than you did when you found out Jenny Kingston was Principal Kingston's daughter after you made out with her at homecoming."
Morse waves his hands, stopping Evans in his tracks. "Whoa whoa! That's not even on the same level! One, that shit happened in 10th grade. Two...." He pauses.
"Two...?" Evans waves one hand in a circle, urging the man to continue his words.
Morse breaks into a goofy, redneck smile. "Well, I didn't just 'make out' with her, brother. This is Jenny Kingston we're talkin' 'bout here!"
Evans rolls his eyes and slaps Morse up against the back of his head, knocking his hat off. Morse looks offended and immediately retrieves his hat from the floor as Evans speaks. "Dumbass, that ain't my point. My point is, yer a grown ass man actin' like a scared little bitch over who we're wrestlin' tonight. Yeah, it's TMDK. Yeah, they're tough. But, and no disrespect to 'em, I don't give a damn if they beat KES or not. Shit, they could have gone back in time and beat the Natural Disasters in a squash match and I wouldn't bat a damn eyelash at it."
Morse looks at Evans in confusion and disbelief. He looks ahead him at nothing in particular, then. Then back up at Evans. Back ahead of him. Back up at Evans. Finally, he looks at the camera then back up at Evans. "Chase, you can't travel back in time! That's only in movies and shit!"
Chase Evans closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhales heavily. He hovers his hand over Teddy Morse and looks down at him in annoyance. "I swear on my granny's grave, I'mma kill you one of these days."
"Which granny?" Morse asks, scratching behind his ear. "Granny May or the one who still looked forty with a rack that could rival Dolly Parton?"
Evans eyes go wide and it's clear he doesn't know whether to let that one slide or to ring Teddy's neck right there. Finally, he takes a deep breath and let's it out. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that one. My point is we just need to stick to our guns, go out there and just handle business like we usually do. You keep on talking about how you want us to leave our mark? Tonight's our chance, man." He points down at the floor. "We manage to beat one of the baddest teams in the business, then we go on later this week and teach them boys in Suzuki-Gun some manners, then we go on and win two more matches then that's it. We're in the match at WrestleWar and the wrestling world sees what two boys from Tennessee are capable of. Hell, some of the greatest to ever lace up a pair of boots come from Tennessee!"
Morse, looking slightly more confident and motivated, looks up at Evans. "No shit? Who?"
Evans throws his arms up in disbelief. "What do ya mean, who?!" He counts on his fingers as he starts listing them off. "Terry Gordy, Jerry Lawler, Jeff Jarrett. Hell, Ric Flair, man!"
"Whoa whoa whoa whoa stop!" Morse waves his hands, halting Evans momentum. "Ric Flair's from North Carolina, man. How the hell can you not know that?"
Evans raises a finger with a sly smirk. "Not true! He's *billed* from North Carolina. The man was born in Memphis."
Morse grins. "No shit?"
Evans nods. "No shit."
Morse turns to the camera, wide eyed and--
"HEEEEEELLLLL YEEEAAAAHH!!!!"
He claps his hands and disappears out of frame as he continues hollering in motivated excitement. Chase Evans shrugs at the camera and throws the deuces while the shot fades to a commercial break.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Returning from commercial break, "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N Roses is playing as we see Colt Shields has already entered the ring and is warming up.
KLAZZIC
"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. We're back, live and we hope you're enjoying the show so far!"
REYNOLDS
"Well of course they are!"
HANSON
"We wanna thank the folks here in Liverpool for joining us and to all of those watching at home. We're at the middle mark of our UK Invasion Tour. Two more weeks, and then we return stateside. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, yet. As you can see, Colt Shields is waiting in the ring. He's ready to go."
Abruptly, Guns N Roses is interrupted by the opening riff of Tore Fagerheim's "Brutal Force" as the video wall comes to life with flashes of an ominous figure in the dark, performing power lifts in what looks to be an abandoned asylum.
ARDEN
"Introducing, his opponent...being lead to the ring by Paul Heyman and Minoru Suzuki...representing Suzuki-Gun.... He weighs in at two hundred and sixty five pounds...HAVOK!!!!"
As Roger Arden makes the announcement, smoke rises around the entryway. Through it, Paul Heyman struts confidently with Minoru Suzuki right behind him, dressed in his black and white track suit. He grins sinisterly at the crowd before looking to the entryway again as HAVOK emerges. Dressed in simple black trunks, boots, pads and wrist tape with a chain hanging loosely around his neck, the silent monster of Suzuki-Gun stares down the ramp towards the ring. The camera angle zooms in on his masked face, catching the focused rage in his eyes.
HANSON
"Just look at those eyes. Seriously."
REYNOLDS
"Those are the eyes of a psychopath, Nicky."
KLAZZIC
"I...wow, I can't even argue that, Jim."
REYNOLDS
"Ya think he's smiling underneath that mask or is he just perpetually pissed off?"
HANSON
"Well, Suzuki and Heyman certainly look to be enjoying themselves."
REYNOLDS
"Well, let's face it. They know what this maniac is capable of and they encourage it."
KLAZZIC
"Probably the only ones who do. At least I would hope, aside from the rest of the ruffians in their stable."
With Heyman and Suzuki guiding him, HAVOK makes his way down the ramp at a calm, slow pace. His pec muscles visibly flexing a couple of times and rolling his neck as he approaches the ring. Once he reaches the steps, he ascends slowly before grabbing the ropes and leaping over the top with that impressive agility for a man his size.
REYNOLDS
"How the HELL does a guy that big move that damn smooth?"
KLAZZIC
"And with that chain, too. That has to be an extra twenty pounds on top of his 265."
HANSON
"I'll say this...it speaks to this young man's potential; the fact that Paul Heyman AND Minoru Suzuki accompany him to the ring. If anyone knows anything about Suzuki, he doesn't walk all of his guys out. He sees something in this kid."
REYNOLDS
"Kid?"
HANSON
"Well, yeah. Havok's not exactly that seasoned, Jim."
REYNOLDS
"How do you figure?"
HANSON
"I had a minute to sit down with Paul Heyman before the show. I wanted to get some insight on Havok. All Heyman told me as to just 'look at him. Two sixty five. Six foot three. Limitless untapped potential inside a perfectly sculpted killing machine. Oh and by the way, today's his birthday. He just turned twenty two."
REYNOLDS
"This motherfucker has a birthday?"
KLAZZIC
"How do ya think he's gonna celebrate it?"
HANSON
"No idea, but I think we're about to find out."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once the bell rang, Havok made short work of Colt Shields, easily overpowering the big Australian with stiff shots and powerful King's Road style slams, including a series of various suplexes that saw him deliver a 5-count combination where he chained together a Suplex, a Northern Lights Suplex, Belly to Belly Suplex, a Dragon Suplex, and a German Suplex before popping up onto a knee and letting out a muffled roar under his mask as he slowly flexed his arms downward.
Paul Heyman laughed in delight as Minoru Suzuki looked on with sadistic glee, simply nodding in approval to Havok when the big man met his gaze. Finally, after a few more minutes of punishment, Havok lifted Colt Shields by the throat, slamming him down with the Disasterpiece and immediately leaning forward for the cover at 7:02.
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
"Brutal Force" by Tore Fagerheim filled the arena again as Havok shoved Colt Shield's legs away and got to his feet.
KLAZZIC
"That probably could have ended five minutes ago, to be honest."
HANSON
"No kidding! I think Havok just likes to hurt people."
REYNOLDS
"Well, happy birthday to the lunatic of Suzuki-Gun. Ya got yourself a new punching bag."
The assault wasn't over, however, as Havok immediately went to stomping and kicking Shields as he was down.
HANSON
"Aw, now c'mon!! No more!!"
~DING DING DING DING DING DING~
The bell rang as the referee tried to get in between Havok and Shields only for Havok to shove the official and send him sprawling across the mat before he mounted Colt and started raining punches down before flipping him over and locking in the Camel Clutch.
HANSON
"Goddamn it! Enough is enough!!"
As Havok held Colt in the submission hold, Suzuki's twisted smile only grew wider until he motioned for Havok to follow him and Paul Heyman. Only then did Havok let go, shoving Colt Shields to the mat and exiting the ring before lunging at the camera, causing the camera man to fall. Suzuki could be heard laughing as the camera man fumbled to pick the camera up before it cut to another angle of the three men walking up the ramp before fading to a commercial....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In what had to be an almost surreal scene, the camera opened on the typically fun-loving, easy-going Lara Blackheart, with her fists heavily taped up, hair pulled back, throwing shockingly vicious punches and elbow strikes into a heavy punching bag, a scowl of discontent on her cherubic face. The strikes just kept coming, one after the other, with no sure sign of slowing down, as there was a fire in Lara's eyes that had never really been there previously.
Allessandra wasn't dressed for any sort of training at all, looking the complete opposite in a body hugging black mini dress and matching thigh high boots, but she did look a bit concerned. It was a very rare thing for her to see her daughter this intense. "Is everything alright?' she asked.
"Nothing beating the fuckin' shit out of someone won't help a little." She grunted, the precision and intensity of the attacks looking more and more like a girl being mentored by The King of Pain. "Mercer's a cool girl. But I'm gonna have the crack her fuckin' skull tonight."
Allessandra arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'm sure she won't be too surprised when you try." Even the wrestlers who got along didn't hold back in the ring. "Try not to actually kill the girl, though. It's bad for business."
For once, Lara had no quips, no one-liners, nothing. She continued her assault on the punching bag, stopping only to mutter: "....no promises." Well then. Apparently a broken heart was what it took to finally unlock the vicious side of her that was going to be in ANY child of Vlad Blackheart.
Allessandra sighed, wondering just who it was she had to kill now. "Please tell me what's going on?" she requested, voice more quiet now. She hated seeing her child hurt like this.
Lara stopped for a moment, resting her forehead against the bag. "Someone.... I want to be with doesn't want to be with me. Can't say much more. Not with the cameras on." She said, sniffling to herself one time, before steeling herself once more. "Nobody's fault but mine, for actually letting myself catch The Feels."
Allessandra nodded, understanding. "We can talk more about it later if you want," she offered,reaching out and brushing her fingers lightly over the side of her daughter's face. "But I don't have to think of ways to kill this one then?" Allessandra's own viciousness seemed to really only come out when she felt those around her were being threatened, but it was a wrath that left no one in its wake when awoken.
"No... " Lara sighed, shaking her head. "I'm just gonna follow Judas and Buzzsaw's leads and use my anger to show people not to fuck with The Dominion."
Allessandra nodded, knowing that was how they did things. She just hoped that her daughter didn't bury her feelings until they exploded into something truly awful...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the camera returns to ringside, the sound of Upchurch's "Cheatham County" fills the arena. The audience gives a relatively warm welcome as a few Rebel Rousers signs are seen being raised.
ARDEN
"Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is a first round match for Tag Team Wars!! Introducing first...at a combined weight of five hundred and twelve pounds...from Pegram, Tennessee...Teddy Morse...Chase Evans...the Rebel Rousers!!"
As they're announced, Teddy Morse and Chase Evans make their way out onto the stage. As usual, Teddy Morse struts and 'dances' to the beat of their entrance song while Chase Evans just flexes his arms before the two make their way down the ramp, slapping hands on the way.
REYNOLDS
"What the hell is he doing?"
As James Reynolds says this, the camera cuts to the announce table just in time to see Matt Klazzic so into the entrance for the Rebel Rousers that he's moving along to the music as well.
REYNOLDS
"What the HELL are you doing?! You're an embarrassment to all white people, Matt!"
KLAZZIC
"I love these guys, Jim!! You should learn how to have some fun like they do!!"
Reynolds shakes his head before noticing that Nick Hanson is lowkey bobbing his head to the music.
REYNOLDS
"....Are you fucking kidding me, Nicky?"
Nick Hanson simply turns to the man, silently mouthing along to the lyrics. James Reynolds buries his face into his palm.
*The scene shifts to the backstage area where we see Shane Haste and Mikey Nicholls heading towards the ring while discussing some last minute strategies for their match with the Rebel Rousers.*
"Ready, Shane? We got the Rousers in our debut tonight," Nicholls asks.
"Damn right, I'm ready. Time to show the people out there why TMDK stands for...," Haste stops midsentence as something catches both he and Nicholls attention off-camera, causing the two to stop the conversation.
"I was wondering when we'd see you two," Haste says bluntly as the camera pans to the side and we see they're addressing Lance Archer and Davey Boy Smith, Jr.
"Wow, looks like they were scraping the bottom of the barrel to bring you two losers here," Archer says.
"Yeah, this ain't NOAH. You don't have your boy Marufuji watching your back. So just hurry up and take your ass kicking and go back to Florida," Smith snaps.
"Oh we're not going anywhere. Shane and I see the competition here and the opportunity it gives for us to show everyone why we were one of the best gaijin teams to compete in Japan," Nicholls says as the two teams size each other up.
"And we didn't need Marufuji to send you two and the rest of your army out of NOAH. And how many times did YOU win the Tokyo Sports award for top tag team?" Haste says.
"Last I checked, I think it was the same number of title reigns you guys have had since your debut here," Nicholls says as we can hear an audible crowd reaction to that statement, causing Archer to bristle visibly at that remark.
"Yeah, we thought so. I know we have the Rebel Rousers tonight, and we're focused SOLELY on them, because the winner of our match tonight gets to go against Suzuki and Havok. Nothing would make us happier than to get send a message to you by going through your mates," Haste says as the two sides get a little closer to each other before some road agents step in to separate the two teams.
"Yeah, get past the first round before you run your mouth. We got the Street Profits in the next round. You boys may want to take some notes and see how you're supposed to take those punks out," Smith says.
"Yeah, we know they were beating your asses all over Florida, which is one of the reasons why you two wound up here. They'll learn, just like you've learned, that you don't get in the way of the Killer Elite Squad. EVERYBODY DIES!!!" Archer yells as the two sides start to go after each other before more agents come in to separate the two teams and guide K.E.S. away from TMDK, with the camera focusing back on Haste and Nicholls, who've regained their composure and no longer need to be restrained.
"If I wasn't amped before, I'm REALLY amped now, Shane," Nicholls says.
"Hell yeah, let's do this!!!" Haste says as they give each other a fist bump as they walk up to the curtain in the Gorilla position and we hear Wolfmother's "Joker and the Thief" start to play in the arena.
The camera angle cuts back to ringside, allowing Wolfmother to be heard louder as the audiences goes wild with more energy as TMDK emerge from the curtain.
ARDEN
"Their opponents...at a combined weight of four hundred and fifty pounds...from Perth, Australia. Mikey Nicholls...Shane Haste...T..M..D..K!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"WOOOHOOO!!!! LISTEN TO THIS CROWD, GUYS!!!"
REYNOLDS
"Will you shut--the fuck--UP?!?!"
HANSON
"Oh leave him alone, Jim. Nobody shits on you when you cheer for the Renegades."
REYNOLDS
"The hell you don't!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a thrilling contest that had Matt Klazzic practically bouncing off of the walls, thus causing James Reynolds to sit mostly silent with his head in his hands (much to Nick Hanson's delight), the Rebel Rousers managed to pull off an upset victory, by pinfall in 18:50, when Evans and Morse delivered the Hook, Line and Sinker to Mikey Nicholls with Teddy Morse making the cover.
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
HANSON
"And the Rebel Rousers are going to the quarter finals on Wednesday!"
KLAZZIC
"WHAT...A...MATCH!!!!! AND A WELL DESERVED WIN!!!!!"
REYNOLDS
"I thought you were rooting for TMDK?"
KLAZZIC
"This one was hard to pick! They're all a bunch of swell guys! I would have been happy either way!"
REYNOLDS
"Just don't start dancing again...."
HANSON
"Too late."
REYNOLDS
"Goddamn it!"
The camera cuts to the announce table again where Matt Klazzic is, once again, doing his white boy dance before fading out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Most people prepare for a match by working out. Or stretching. Or even getting themselves all worked up. Most people? Aren't Judas Lasher.
Even after promising to unleash the violent madman that had been hidden away since the destruction of Abaddon, Judas sat on the floor of the Dominion's locker room, wearing only a simple pair of black sweatpants, quietly meditating. Not to be confused with the calm serenity most received from this... Lasher's face held a deep, dark scowl.
After talking with her daughter, Alessandra was concerned. She didn't want to talk too much about it with all the cameras around them, but she still felt the need to seek out Judas. Maybe not to actually talk about her daughter, but to check on him and see how he was preparing for the match tonight. Anything to soothe her nerves.
She walked into the locker room. However, when she saw Judas mediating, she quietly sat down on a bench, waiting for him to finish up.
As if he could sense her entering, Judas stood, rising to his feet with the grace and fluidity of a serpent. Walking to her, he rested his forehead against her silently, a possessive, protective hand resting on the small of her back. It was clear to anyone paying attention that long before they fell in love, Judas took protecting this woman VERY seriously. "What's troubling you, love? I can feel the fear radiating from you."
She leaned back against him. Even if Judas was to <I>intense</I> (to put it nicely) for some, Alessandra couldn't help but relish in it. It was nice to have someone feel protective over her. "Just worried over Lara is all," she explained. "She's upset and I don't know how to comfort her."
"Ah." He said with an unnerving grin. "Yes... Lara came to me a few days ago, unsure of what to do with all the emotions she was feeling. I gave her the same advice I give all who choose to join The Dominion: Turn those emotions into rage, and then release them on your opponent."
She nodded. "She's taking that to heart." Alessandra didn't even necessarily mind the idea of Lara funneling those emotions elsewhere. If there was nothing she could do about them, why not? However, she didn't want her daughter forgetting <I>how</I> to love because of the rage. Even Judas knew how to love.
"Lara needs to find her own path." Judas told her, soothingly stroking her hair. "She has the blood of wrestling royalty in her veins... but she cannot thrive being a tribute act to her father. Times like this are things she's going to have to go through to find herself."
She nodded, eyes shutting as she felt his fingers stroke her. She knew that he was right, that her daughter had to find her own way. It was just hard to turn off those mothering instincts that made her want to attack everything that hurt her baby girl. "I know she'll make her own path."
"And I will guide her." He added, kissing her forehead with such tenderness that it almost felt surreal coming from someone as vicious as Judas Lasher. "Now. Relax, my love. While I use Shelton Benjamin as an unfortunate example of what happens when people begin to forget how dangerous we are."
She chuckled, finally leaning back and giving him some air. "Give 'em hell, love," she said simply, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before standing, figuring she could give him space now to finish preparing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aquaman? Is that this kid's name? Fuck if I remember."
Scott Leroux loudly (obnoxiously) snapped his gum as he looked into the camera, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "You know why Lasher picked me as your first opponent, kid? Because I know. I may not see eye to eye with him often, but I know his mind. He knows you gotta pay your dues before anyone's gonna respect you. And step one of paying your dues? Is taking a Great White North ass-whippin', courtesy of The Tap-Out King."
He motioned around the locker room, a steely look in his eyes.
"Every halfway decent wrestler in this promotion, from LeBrun, to Rick, to Alex Brody has had to pay their dues. Earn the respect of their peers. So I'm gonna be 100 with you here, kid - Judas ain't expecting you to win. Not one single bit. Day I get beat by some rookie in his first goddamn match is the day I hang my boots up for good. No... what he's looking to see isn't if you win... it's how you handle defeat. Whether or not you earn the respect of your opponent. You got a helluva mentor, kid. Question now is... are you ready to show him not only that you're talented, but that you're respectful enough to be gracious in defeat?"
He opened his arms arrogantly, grinning as he snapped his gum again.
"I've been World Champion more times than you've had pieces of ass, kid. I've been on top of more promotions than I have time to LIST. But in the beginning? I wasn't the Tap-Out King. I wasn't even Scott Leroux. I was a young moron in a goddamn Mortal Kombat costume, getting my ass kicked week in and week out. So prepare to get the worst ass-kicking off your life, Aquaman. Because ready or not... it's time to HAIL... TO... THE... KING."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The King of Pain, Judas Lasher defeated Shelton Benjamin, by pinfall in 11:16, by busting Benjamin open early on with knees to the face and eventually putting him down with three consecutive Lucifer's Halos before going for the pin.
HANSON
"Uhhh...excessive, much?"
REYNOLDS
"No kidding, right? Fuck this guy, Nicky."
KLAZZIC
"Not the exact wording I'd choose to use but I have to agree, that was a bit uncalled for."
HANSON
"Is this what Judas Lasher meant, last week, by a sacrifice?"
REYNOLDS
"Guess so, Nicky. I guess so."
The show fades out to a commercial break as the referee and ring doctor attend to Shelton Benjamin as Judas Lasher calmly takes his leave up the ramp -- Venom Inc's "Ave Satanas" blasting over the arena speakers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fading in backstage, the camera captures the NFW Women's Champion, Adrianna Salvatore, walking through the hallway. Wearing a sleeveless Unwanted's bounty poster t-shirt underneath her hooded vest, we get a full look at her tattooed arms as she comes to stand in front of Chris Wolfe's locker room door. The rest of her outfit consists of green military camo shorts that were probably pants once that she cut off below the knees and her favorite old pair of black, low rise boots.
Knocking first, Adrianna calls through the door. "Chris!! It's me!!" Before letting herself in with the camera following behind her.
Clearly focused yet extremely tense, the challenger took a deep breath as he opened the door, pulling Adrianna into a friendly hug. "Sup, Boo?" He asked, ushering her into the room. While he tried to hide it, he was obviously nervous as he gritted his teeth.
Happily accepting and returning the hug, Adrianna turned to finally, relatively, face the camera, we see how laxed Adrianna is, as she also sports more uncharacteristic punk makeup on top of her facial piercings. "You feeling alright?" She asked, lightly slugging him in the arm as she leaned back against the wall once she was inside. "You look like you're about to have a prolapse of anal proportions."
".....damn, that's nasty" He replied, giving a slight chuckle. "Naw, I'm good. Just a little torn right now. I know I can beat LeBrun, I've done it twice now. But there's that little piece of me that keeps flashing back to the VBMT finals, and I start worrying that maybe I can't get it done when the pressure is on."
Ink covered arms folded underneath her bust as Adrianna rolled her eyes, not believing that for a second. "Or...you're worried about the rest of his crew running in which, let's be honest hon, it's fucking inevitable. That's mainly why I came." She paused for a second, thinking. "Well, aside from wanting to tell you to go get that belt since you deserve it. But also, to let you know that when LeBrun's crew shows up, *my* crew won't be far off to even the odds."
"...Adam Cole, huh?" He asked, trying not to laugh. "It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who's idea THAT recruitment was." He smirked, realizing that Cole and Mia were almost genderbent copies of each other.
Adrianna cracked a grin. Her black painted lips, lined with more than two ring piercings, parting as she chuckled, shaking her head. "I know, I know. It's a risk. I told Mia if things with him go South, it's on her. Funny enough? I would have been more comfortable with White, but he blew us off entirely. I told Mouse that dibs on the next scouting is mine. As it stands, I don't know if I trust Cole and Angel's just..." Adrianna shook her head and exhaled, looking comically bewildered. "...Mia thought I was odd when you and I rolled with Keith, but that girl? Fuuuuck. I have faith in Mia's judgement, at the same time, though. Just know that while none of us doubt that you can do this on your own, you're one man. This is your fight, but I'm not the type to stand by and watch my boy get outnumbered. I learned that much before I even stepped into Marissa and Morgan's dads' gym."
"Tyler said he's got my back too. So... between the two of you, hopefully LeBrun's thugs won't be able to influence much." Wolfe said with a slightly forced smile. "I appreciate this, A. All of this."
"Hey, you've always been there for me...." She pushed off of the wall, giving her friend a fist bump. "No way am I leaving you hanging. Just don't let your nerves get to you. That punk bitch talks about how lightning never strikes twice but you proved him wrong. Now, you just need to go out there and prove to him that third time's a charm. Three strikes and his ass is out. Get that third pin and make your dream come true."
"You're right." He said, finally starting to believe it. "And with you and Tyler both behind me... I know I can do this. You're a good friend, Adrianna. A damn good friend."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Despite a valiant effort that saw Ethan Skinner a.k.a Aguares show the Tapout King that he was more than capable of rolling with the veterans, Scott Leroux defeated the NFW new blood, by pinfall in 13:05 with the Corkscrew Nailbomb.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cutting backstage from ringside, the camera finds Josh Davison. Despite looking neat and professional, he looks absolutely unnerved as he greets the camera:
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Josh Davison, here to bring you -- as always -- an exclusive N*FW interview."
As the camera pans out, we find the reason behind his discomfort being that he's flanked on both sides by members of the Renegades. On one side of him, Tyson Law rolls his eyes and looks at Davison as if questioning his intelligence on his choice of wording. As he is not scheduled to compete that night, he's dressed in a pair of black sweat pants with an unzipped, grey Renegade hoodie. Hood up. No shirt underneath. Beside him stands Max LeBrun, decked out in his full ring gear with his entrance hood down, currently. The NFW Heavyweight Championship rests on his shoulder. His other arm rests around the shoulders of Candi Broduer. On the other side of Davison, stands Julian Morrison and Serena Frost.
"As you can see, folks, I'm being joined by the Renegades. And it seems, as though, things have been a little rocky for my guests here lately, so I'd just like to take this time to---"
Before Josh can finish, Tyson Law slaps his hand over the mouth piece of the microphone, then cups his other hand over Josh's mouth before leaning into the mic, removing his first hand. "Josh, let me ask you this: who the fuck hired you to hold interviews? You blurt out the most obvious, mundane shit. It's no wonder half the roster makes a fool out of you. Seriously, what the hell are your credentials?" Tyson removes his hand, Josh opens his mouth and Tyson slaps his hand right back over his mouth. "Don't answer that. Just listen. You can ask the others here whatever dumb shit they *might* let you get away with, in a second. All I've gotta say is this: Adam...fucking...Cole. You disappear after getting your ass kicked by a second gen idiot and losing your belt. Now, months later, you come back here and *somehow* get entered into the Battle of the Juniors. A tournament of which, with the help of that little Gothic Lolita skank, Mia Hayashi, YOU FUCKED ME OUT OF!! We both know -- *everybody* knows -- that the only reason you're moving into the second to last round is because of that little ho who doesn't know how to mind her own business! The problem is, Cole, you chose the wrong dude to fuck with! Now, here's where I find myself at a crossroads. Was it a smart move, on your part, to have backup in a situation where the odds were stacked against you? Shit yeah, man. Props to ya! BUT!!"
Tyson raises a finger, calling for pause. "But.... On the flipside, bro, you need to look at it from my perspective. I'm 'sposed to just take this shit layin' down? Hell naw! HELL naw!! So this is what's gonna happen, fool. If you got the guts, if you got the *balls*, we got our last show of the year comin' up. Seasons Beatings. December 17th. If you think you're such hot shit, you won't have any issues steppin' into the ring with me. Because I think you *do* have issues, bitch. I think you ain't shit without your new crew of hoes at your back. Prove me wrong, fool. Get at me." Tyson throws the middle finger up at the camera and lets go of Josh Davison's mouth.
Finally able to speak again, Josh adjusts his tie and turns slowly between Candi Broduer and Serena Frost. "Well, I uhh...guess that gets one question out of the way. Next, if you ladies wouldn't mind, I'd like to get your input on a semi-related matter. As Tyson just mentioned, we have our year's end show coming up. On that night, as Commissioner Brody mentioned earlier, we will crown the first N*FW Women's Tag Team Champions in a fatal four way match, featuring the current top four women's tag teams of the company. That, of course, as mentioned, includes the two of you. What is each of your state of mind going into this match in just two weeks from now? There's been speculation of some distension between the two of you as a unit. Do you have any comments on that?"
Candi Broduer, still looking slightly shaken after the last few weeks, opened her mouth to speak... only for Serena to callously pull the microphone to herself. "All that matters right now is that we work as a cohesive team. Which we will do tonight." She glared at Candi a little as she said it, before looking back to Josh. "This is my big break, and nobody is gonna ruin this for me."
"Ah..umm...thank you, Serena. The best of luck to you both, certainly." Looking almost guilty of drudging up unwanted tension, Josh Davison then turns to Max LeBrun. "Now, Seasons Beatings is two weeks from now. However, tonight, we have a main event that's been several weeks in the making. Champ, tonight, you defend your NFW Heavyweight Title against one who earned his shot by beating you in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial. I'm talking, of course, about Chris Wolfe. A man who has been very passionate about voicing his -- for lack of a better word -- disdain towards you. Not just as a wrestler, but as a human being it seems." Smiling as Josh speaks, Max leans into the microphone, cutting the man off before he can say more. "Chris Wolfe doesn't like me? Hell, *nobody* likes me! The only people that like me, frankly, are this bunch here that I'm surrounded by now. Why? Because, as I've said before, I let them know that it doesn't matter what critics say about them. It doesn't matter what smart marks or journalists or podcasters say about them. Each of these people around you, right now, Josh--" Max removes his arm from around Candi and raised his gloved hand to show his pinky, "--have more talent in their little finger than the rest of this entire goddamn roster put together. Do I care if Chris Wolfe likes or dislikes me? Absolutely not! All he is, is just what everyone else that stands in the opposite corner is to me. He's a piece of meat. He's beneath me. More than that, in tonight's case: he's an invader. A trespasser. Chris Wolfe is a goddamn thief looking to come into my domain and take what's mine. I already dealt with one thief. Granted, it didn't go the way I wanted it to, exactly, but Rick Dickulous is now, no longer a factor in this equation. He came into the devil's domain and he got shut out. And now here comes Chris Wolfe. A man who, yes, has pinned me twice. I won't deny that you've got talent Chris. That's why I reached out to you. That's why I offered you a place among us. The real future stars of this company. But what did you do? You slapped my hand away. You spat in my face. You fancy yourself a 'lone wolf.' Well that's all well and good, Chris, until that lone wolf finds himself having strayed into the territory of a pack. That's where you've found yourself, tonight. So by the time it's all said and done, you're gonna realize the mistake you made when you rejected my offer. You think refusing the Renegades makes you the better man. Nobody controls you. Nobody leads you, and all that. Nobody leads us, either! There are no leaders here! Just a tight knit crew of likeminded individuals who know what professional wrestling should really be all about! Nobody leads anybody in the Renegades, but we stick together. We stick together like blood. *You* have no blood here, Chris. You have no one! You might think you do, but you couldn't be more wrong. You think having your buddy from the Circle of Snakes and that little walking pile of issues stacks up to this...." He motions to the group of Renegades. "You know nothing, Chris Wolfe. You know...jack...fucking...shit! But that'll all change tonight, because I'm gonna open your eyes. You think I don't have shit lined up? I am one step ahead of you at all times. *We* are one step ahead of everybody else! Which brings me to the next person. I haven't forgotten about you Nico. Trust me. In fact, I've been keeping you in the back of my mind because I know exactly what's going through that head of yours. I know you're gonna be watching to see how this turns out, so let me do you a favor. Let me make *you* an offer. One that I know you won't refuse. After I kick the shit out of Chris Wolfe, tonight -- after I lay his ass out and hold up the one thing he wants more than anything else in this company..." He pats the NFW Heavyweight Title on his shoulder. "...You're next in line. That's right. *I* am challenging *you*, Nico, to Seasons Beatings. You want this fucking title? You want *MY* Heavyweight Championship?! Well, then, on December 17th, when we reach London for the end of our UK Invasion Tour, why don't you do exactly like your little theme song says and come and get it? I'll be waiting. And when that night comes, I just have one more piece of advice to give out and that's to you Judas. You better be watching. Because I'm not gonna be taking you lightly either. I know *exactly* what you are capable of. So I want you to pay attention to what I do to your mad dog's little pup...because in January...you're gonna be the next one I make an example of...." Max leans back from the mic and hangs a reassuring arm around Candi again, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"Th-thank you, champ." Swallowing nervously, Josh Davison looks to Julian Morrison. "Umm...Julian? A-anything you'd like to add?"
Shaking his head with an arrogant smirk, Julian adjusted his sunglasses before looking into the camera. "What exactly do you want me to say? Max is right. He is the man right now. The World Heavyweight Champion. And right now, my job is keep that championship in The Renegades by any means necessary. This group is my LIFE, Josh. I will do anything it takes to make sure this group remains a strong, cohesive unit."
He slapped Tyson on the chest then, as he looked back to the interviewer. "This man right here... has any hot young talent ever been buried with the gusto this promotion has tried to bury him with? Being used as the butt of Nico Salvatore's jokes. Screwed over by Mia Hayashi and Adam Cole with no consequence by NFW brass. And you know what? Look at him. He's not running away with his tail between his legs. He's not sulking or moping. This kid is raring to go. He wants to beat the ass of every person who's tried to hold him back. And by god, we are gonna help him do it. Believe me.... plans are in motion right now, to correct any mistakes we've made, and make this group stronger than EVER."
Finally, as if knowing how this usually went, Davison turned back to Max LeBrun for the final word, where the Champ locked his gaze on the camera. "After tonight...people are gonna start listening. They're gonna start seeing that we mean business.They're gonna watch how they carry themselves around us. They're gonna start taking us seriously. Shit, they'd better even watch what they fucking say!! Otherwise? May whatever deity they pray to...have mercy on their souls...." He slowly shook his head. "Because we sure as hell aren't going to...." Raising his fist, Max 'pulled the pin' before leading the way off camera, shoving Josh Davison back to get him out of their way as the Renegades left the frame and the shot faded out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Following the entrances, "Big Bad" Chris Wolfe and the "Toronto Daredevil" Max LeBrun stood back in their corners, waiting for the referee to call for the start of the match. Once he did--
~DING DING DING~
The champion and challenger stepped out of their corners and began circling one another.
HANSON
"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. This has been a match several weeks in the making!"
KLAZZIC
"If anyone deserves a shot at the title on this roster, it's that man! Chris Wolfe!"
After a tense moment, the two athletes lunged forward, locking up in the center of the ring.
HANSON
"There's the lockup. They're gonna fight for dominance right at the start."
What ensued was a series of technical grapples and chain maneuvers that saw Wolfe and LeBrun on equal footing, for the most part. As the match got fully underway, it became clear that Chris Wolfe definitely had Max LeBrun's number in the match. As the match continued on further, it began to look as though Wolfe was fully gaining the upper hand on LeBrun.
This was until Wolfe went for a missile dropkick from the top rope in which LeBrun moved out of the way and caused Wolfe to connect with the referee.
KLAZZIC
"AND THE REFEREE IS DOWN!! NO!!!"
HANSON
"Awww, you know where this is gonna end up."
REYNOLDS
"What are you insinuating, Nicky?"
KLAZZIC
"Oh you know exactly what this means, James Reynolds!"
REYNOLDS
"What, you think the champ caused that on purpose?"
HANSON
"No time to tell!"
While Max LeBrun was seemingly checking on the referee, Chris Wolfe capitalized and spun him around, hitting him with---
KLAZZIC
"THE DIREWOLFE!!! THERE IT IS!!!!!"
After Wolfe drilled LeBrun into the canvas, he immediately went for the cover, hooking the leg.
HANSON
"Wolfe has the cover!!"
REYNOLDS
"The ref's still down!!! There's no one to count!!"
KLAZZIC
"Don't sound so excited."
REYNOLDS
"What? I'm just stating a fact."
HANSON
"You're stating the obvious!"
KLAZZIC
"Aww, no. Don't look now, guys."
As Klazzic voiced his disdain, both Julian Morrison and Tyson Law looked to one another, then at the ring. Chris Wolfe also noticed this and stood up out of the cover, watching the two. Ready. Waiting.
HANSON
"This is gonna turn into a three on one, real quick."
However, before Morrison and Law even budged an inch, the crowd began cheering in excitement.
KLAZZIC
"Wait a minute!!!!! LOOK!!!! COMING DOWN THE RAMP!!!"
HANSON
"TYLER GREY!!! THANK GOD!!!"
REYNOLDS
"WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING HERE?!?!"
HANSON
"Doesn't matter!! At least the odds are evened out, somewhat!!"
As the crowd popped, Chris Wolfe's tag team partner, Tyler Grey came rushing down the ramp and sliding into the ring, immediately taking a stand next to Wolfe.
HANSON
"They don't look so willing to get in there now!!"
Instead of entering the ring for a fight, Law and Morrison looked up at the two, calmly, as Wolfe and Grey stood side by side. Tyler Grey stepped forward then, pointing and beckoning for the two to get in the ring with them.
KLAZZIC
"I think Tyler Grey's had enough of his friend and tag partner being pushed around by these ruffians!"
REYNOLDS
"Renegades, Matt."
KLAZZIC
"Oh, I don't care!"
HANSON
"Max LeBrun said he had a plan up his sleeve and I think it just backfired."
REYNOLDS
"Oh, what plan?! Julian and Tyson weren't even moving towards the ring!"
HANSON
"Oh but we all know they were thinking it!"
As soon as Hanson got the last word out of his mouth, Tyler Grey spun around, suddenly and nailed Chris Wolfe with a kick to the midsection.
HANSON
"WAIT A MINUTE!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"WHAT THE HELL?!?!?"
Before Chris Wolfe seemed to know what was going on, Tyler Grey grabbed him into position and drilled him into the mat with The Descent!!!!
KLAZZIC
"NO!!!!!"
HANSON
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!!"
A wave of boos filled the arena as Tyler Grey popped up onto one knee with a wry smile on his face.
HANSON
"WHAT THE HELL IS TYLER GREY DOING?!?!?"
KLAZZIC
"OH DON'T TELL ME!!!"
REYNOLDS
"BRILLIANT!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"BRILLIANT?!?!"
REYNOLDS
"FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!!"
HANSON
"IS THIS WHAT MAX LEBRUN WAS TALKING ABOUT?!"
Outside the ring, Julian Morrison and Tyson Law suddenly had noticeable smirks on their faces as Tyler Grey exited the ring, and walked over to high five both Julian and Tyson.
HANSON
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!!"
REYNOLDS
"YEEEESSSS!!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"YOU BACKSTABBING PIECE OF TRASH!!!!"
Inside the ring, the referee was climbing back to his feet. Max LeBrun was recovering from the Direwolfe and Chris Wolfe was struggling to pull himself up on the ropes.
HANSON
"This is the lowest form of treachery I have ever seen in my entire career as a wrestling broadcaster!!"
KLAZZIC
"This is sick!"
REYNOLDS
"This is brilliant!!"
KLAZZIC
"Oh, stuff it James Reynolds!"
At 28 minutes into the match, Max LeBrun made it to his feet after the referee recovered. Chris Wolfe pulled himself up to his feet, stumbling away from the ropes right towards Max as....
HANSON
"AND THERE'S THE SLAPSHOT!!! THAT VICIOUS KICK!!!"
Max LeBrun's foot connected with Chris Wolfe's jaw, sending him back into the ropes and stumbling towards Max again where the champion set him up and finished him off with the
REYNOLDS
"ANEURYSM ON THE CHALLENGER!!!"
KLAZZIC
"THIS CAN'T HAPPEN LIKE THIS!!!"
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
Ending the match officially at 28:36.
REYNOLDS
"It can and it did!!"
ARDEN
"Here is your winner...aaaand STILL....NFW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION....the Toronto Daredevil...MAX....LEBRUUUUUUN!!!!!!!"
As Huntress' "Destroy Your Life" filled the arena for the second time that night, Max LeBrun sat up in the ring, clutching his body in pain. Joining him were Julian Morrison, Tyson Law...and Tyler Grey. The first two helped the retaining champion to his feet while Grey stood in place to be directly in front of LeBrun who slowly grinned at the man and extended a fist. Next, Julian and Tyson extended their own. Finally, after looking around at the jeering crowd, Tyler Grey smirked, looking back at the three...and extended his own fist where the four all 'popped the pin.'
HANSON
"Nooooo friggin WAY!!!!!! NOT HIM!!!!! NO!!!"
KLAZZIC
"WHY, TYLER?!?! THAT MAN AT YOUR FEET WAS LIKE YOUR BROTHER!!!!!"
The final shot of the night saw Max LeBrun, Julian Morrison, Tyson Law and Tyler Grey standing side by side over the laid out Chris Wolfe. All four extending their fists with their thumbs out sideways while LeBrun raised the championship belt overhead in his other hand.
HANSON
"I hate that we have to end the night with this bullshit!!!"
KLAZZIC
"Ugh!! Language, Nick. But, me too!"
HANSON
"I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen. Forgive me language. You know I don't usually speak so colorfully but...just...god DAMN IT!!!!"
REYNOLDS
"THIS IS THE GREATEST NIGHT IN NFW HISTORY!!"
HANSON
"Oh shut up!!"
REYNOLDS
"So long, everyone!! We'll see you in Glasgow, next week!!"
The credits appear on screen as the camera angle fades to black....
Even after promising to unleash the violent madman that had been hidden away since the destruction of Abaddon, Judas sat on the floor of the Dominion's locker room, wearing only a simple pair of black sweatpants, quietly meditating. Not to be confused with the calm serenity most received from this... Lasher's face held a deep, dark scowl.
After talking with her daughter, Alessandra was concerned. She didn't want to talk too much about it with all the cameras around them, but she still felt the need to seek out Judas. Maybe not to actually talk about her daughter, but to check on him and see how he was preparing for the match tonight. Anything to soothe her nerves.
She walked into the locker room. However, when she saw Judas mediating, she quietly sat down on a bench, waiting for him to finish up.
As if he could sense her entering, Judas stood, rising to his feet with the grace and fluidity of a serpent. Walking to her, he rested his forehead against her silently, a possessive, protective hand resting on the small of her back. It was clear to anyone paying attention that long before they fell in love, Judas took protecting this woman VERY seriously. "What's troubling you, love? I can feel the fear radiating from you."
She leaned back against him. Even if Judas was to <I>intense</I> (to put it nicely) for some, Alessandra couldn't help but relish in it. It was nice to have someone feel protective over her. "Just worried over Lara is all," she explained. "She's upset and I don't know how to comfort her."
"Ah." He said with an unnerving grin. "Yes... Lara came to me a few days ago, unsure of what to do with all the emotions she was feeling. I gave her the same advice I give all who choose to join The Dominion: Turn those emotions into rage, and then release them on your opponent."
She nodded. "She's taking that to heart." Alessandra didn't even necessarily mind the idea of Lara funneling those emotions elsewhere. If there was nothing she could do about them, why not? However, she didn't want her daughter forgetting <I>how</I> to love because of the rage. Even Judas knew how to love.
"Lara needs to find her own path." Judas told her, soothingly stroking her hair. "She has the blood of wrestling royalty in her veins... but she cannot thrive being a tribute act to her father. Times like this are things she's going to have to go through to find herself."
She nodded, eyes shutting as she felt his fingers stroke her. She knew that he was right, that her daughter had to find her own way. It was just hard to turn off those mothering instincts that made her want to attack everything that hurt her baby girl. "I know she'll make her own path."
"And I will guide her." He added, kissing her forehead with such tenderness that it almost felt surreal coming from someone as vicious as Judas Lasher. "Now. Relax, my love. While I use Shelton Benjamin as an unfortunate example of what happens when people begin to forget how dangerous we are."
She chuckled, finally leaning back and giving him some air. "Give 'em hell, love," she said simply, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before standing, figuring she could give him space now to finish preparing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aquaman? Is that this kid's name? Fuck if I remember."
Scott Leroux loudly (obnoxiously) snapped his gum as he looked into the camera, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "You know why Lasher picked me as your first opponent, kid? Because I know. I may not see eye to eye with him often, but I know his mind. He knows you gotta pay your dues before anyone's gonna respect you. And step one of paying your dues? Is taking a Great White North ass-whippin', courtesy of The Tap-Out King."
He motioned around the locker room, a steely look in his eyes.
"Every halfway decent wrestler in this promotion, from LeBrun, to Rick, to Alex Brody has had to pay their dues. Earn the respect of their peers. So I'm gonna be 100 with you here, kid - Judas ain't expecting you to win. Not one single bit. Day I get beat by some rookie in his first goddamn match is the day I hang my boots up for good. No... what he's looking to see isn't if you win... it's how you handle defeat. Whether or not you earn the respect of your opponent. You got a helluva mentor, kid. Question now is... are you ready to show him not only that you're talented, but that you're respectful enough to be gracious in defeat?"
He opened his arms arrogantly, grinning as he snapped his gum again.
"I've been World Champion more times than you've had pieces of ass, kid. I've been on top of more promotions than I have time to LIST. But in the beginning? I wasn't the Tap-Out King. I wasn't even Scott Leroux. I was a young moron in a goddamn Mortal Kombat costume, getting my ass kicked week in and week out. So prepare to get the worst ass-kicking off your life, Aquaman. Because ready or not... it's time to HAIL... TO... THE... KING."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The King of Pain, Judas Lasher defeated Shelton Benjamin, by pinfall in 11:16, by busting Benjamin open early on with knees to the face and eventually putting him down with three consecutive Lucifer's Halos before going for the pin.
HANSON
"Uhhh...excessive, much?"
REYNOLDS
"No kidding, right? Fuck this guy, Nicky."
KLAZZIC
"Not the exact wording I'd choose to use but I have to agree, that was a bit uncalled for."
HANSON
"Is this what Judas Lasher meant, last week, by a sacrifice?"
REYNOLDS
"Guess so, Nicky. I guess so."
The show fades out to a commercial break as the referee and ring doctor attend to Shelton Benjamin as Judas Lasher calmly takes his leave up the ramp -- Venom Inc's "Ave Satanas" blasting over the arena speakers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fading in backstage, the camera captures the NFW Women's Champion, Adrianna Salvatore, walking through the hallway. Wearing a sleeveless Unwanted's bounty poster t-shirt underneath her hooded vest, we get a full look at her tattooed arms as she comes to stand in front of Chris Wolfe's locker room door. The rest of her outfit consists of green military camo shorts that were probably pants once that she cut off below the knees and her favorite old pair of black, low rise boots.
Knocking first, Adrianna calls through the door. "Chris!! It's me!!" Before letting herself in with the camera following behind her.
Clearly focused yet extremely tense, the challenger took a deep breath as he opened the door, pulling Adrianna into a friendly hug. "Sup, Boo?" He asked, ushering her into the room. While he tried to hide it, he was obviously nervous as he gritted his teeth.
Happily accepting and returning the hug, Adrianna turned to finally, relatively, face the camera, we see how laxed Adrianna is, as she also sports more uncharacteristic punk makeup on top of her facial piercings. "You feeling alright?" She asked, lightly slugging him in the arm as she leaned back against the wall once she was inside. "You look like you're about to have a prolapse of anal proportions."
".....damn, that's nasty" He replied, giving a slight chuckle. "Naw, I'm good. Just a little torn right now. I know I can beat LeBrun, I've done it twice now. But there's that little piece of me that keeps flashing back to the VBMT finals, and I start worrying that maybe I can't get it done when the pressure is on."
Ink covered arms folded underneath her bust as Adrianna rolled her eyes, not believing that for a second. "Or...you're worried about the rest of his crew running in which, let's be honest hon, it's fucking inevitable. That's mainly why I came." She paused for a second, thinking. "Well, aside from wanting to tell you to go get that belt since you deserve it. But also, to let you know that when LeBrun's crew shows up, *my* crew won't be far off to even the odds."
"...Adam Cole, huh?" He asked, trying not to laugh. "It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who's idea THAT recruitment was." He smirked, realizing that Cole and Mia were almost genderbent copies of each other.
Adrianna cracked a grin. Her black painted lips, lined with more than two ring piercings, parting as she chuckled, shaking her head. "I know, I know. It's a risk. I told Mia if things with him go South, it's on her. Funny enough? I would have been more comfortable with White, but he blew us off entirely. I told Mouse that dibs on the next scouting is mine. As it stands, I don't know if I trust Cole and Angel's just..." Adrianna shook her head and exhaled, looking comically bewildered. "...Mia thought I was odd when you and I rolled with Keith, but that girl? Fuuuuck. I have faith in Mia's judgement, at the same time, though. Just know that while none of us doubt that you can do this on your own, you're one man. This is your fight, but I'm not the type to stand by and watch my boy get outnumbered. I learned that much before I even stepped into Marissa and Morgan's dads' gym."
"Tyler said he's got my back too. So... between the two of you, hopefully LeBrun's thugs won't be able to influence much." Wolfe said with a slightly forced smile. "I appreciate this, A. All of this."
"Hey, you've always been there for me...." She pushed off of the wall, giving her friend a fist bump. "No way am I leaving you hanging. Just don't let your nerves get to you. That punk bitch talks about how lightning never strikes twice but you proved him wrong. Now, you just need to go out there and prove to him that third time's a charm. Three strikes and his ass is out. Get that third pin and make your dream come true."
"You're right." He said, finally starting to believe it. "And with you and Tyler both behind me... I know I can do this. You're a good friend, Adrianna. A damn good friend."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Despite a valiant effort that saw Ethan Skinner a.k.a Aguares show the Tapout King that he was more than capable of rolling with the veterans, Scott Leroux defeated the NFW new blood, by pinfall in 13:05 with the Corkscrew Nailbomb.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cutting backstage from ringside, the camera finds Josh Davison. Despite looking neat and professional, he looks absolutely unnerved as he greets the camera:
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Josh Davison, here to bring you -- as always -- an exclusive N*FW interview."
As the camera pans out, we find the reason behind his discomfort being that he's flanked on both sides by members of the Renegades. On one side of him, Tyson Law rolls his eyes and looks at Davison as if questioning his intelligence on his choice of wording. As he is not scheduled to compete that night, he's dressed in a pair of black sweat pants with an unzipped, grey Renegade hoodie. Hood up. No shirt underneath. Beside him stands Max LeBrun, decked out in his full ring gear with his entrance hood down, currently. The NFW Heavyweight Championship rests on his shoulder. His other arm rests around the shoulders of Candi Broduer. On the other side of Davison, stands Julian Morrison and Serena Frost.
"As you can see, folks, I'm being joined by the Renegades. And it seems, as though, things have been a little rocky for my guests here lately, so I'd just like to take this time to---"
Before Josh can finish, Tyson Law slaps his hand over the mouth piece of the microphone, then cups his other hand over Josh's mouth before leaning into the mic, removing his first hand. "Josh, let me ask you this: who the fuck hired you to hold interviews? You blurt out the most obvious, mundane shit. It's no wonder half the roster makes a fool out of you. Seriously, what the hell are your credentials?" Tyson removes his hand, Josh opens his mouth and Tyson slaps his hand right back over his mouth. "Don't answer that. Just listen. You can ask the others here whatever dumb shit they *might* let you get away with, in a second. All I've gotta say is this: Adam...fucking...Cole. You disappear after getting your ass kicked by a second gen idiot and losing your belt. Now, months later, you come back here and *somehow* get entered into the Battle of the Juniors. A tournament of which, with the help of that little Gothic Lolita skank, Mia Hayashi, YOU FUCKED ME OUT OF!! We both know -- *everybody* knows -- that the only reason you're moving into the second to last round is because of that little ho who doesn't know how to mind her own business! The problem is, Cole, you chose the wrong dude to fuck with! Now, here's where I find myself at a crossroads. Was it a smart move, on your part, to have backup in a situation where the odds were stacked against you? Shit yeah, man. Props to ya! BUT!!"
Tyson raises a finger, calling for pause. "But.... On the flipside, bro, you need to look at it from my perspective. I'm 'sposed to just take this shit layin' down? Hell naw! HELL naw!! So this is what's gonna happen, fool. If you got the guts, if you got the *balls*, we got our last show of the year comin' up. Seasons Beatings. December 17th. If you think you're such hot shit, you won't have any issues steppin' into the ring with me. Because I think you *do* have issues, bitch. I think you ain't shit without your new crew of hoes at your back. Prove me wrong, fool. Get at me." Tyson throws the middle finger up at the camera and lets go of Josh Davison's mouth.
Finally able to speak again, Josh adjusts his tie and turns slowly between Candi Broduer and Serena Frost. "Well, I uhh...guess that gets one question out of the way. Next, if you ladies wouldn't mind, I'd like to get your input on a semi-related matter. As Tyson just mentioned, we have our year's end show coming up. On that night, as Commissioner Brody mentioned earlier, we will crown the first N*FW Women's Tag Team Champions in a fatal four way match, featuring the current top four women's tag teams of the company. That, of course, as mentioned, includes the two of you. What is each of your state of mind going into this match in just two weeks from now? There's been speculation of some distension between the two of you as a unit. Do you have any comments on that?"
Candi Broduer, still looking slightly shaken after the last few weeks, opened her mouth to speak... only for Serena to callously pull the microphone to herself. "All that matters right now is that we work as a cohesive team. Which we will do tonight." She glared at Candi a little as she said it, before looking back to Josh. "This is my big break, and nobody is gonna ruin this for me."
"Ah..umm...thank you, Serena. The best of luck to you both, certainly." Looking almost guilty of drudging up unwanted tension, Josh Davison then turns to Max LeBrun. "Now, Seasons Beatings is two weeks from now. However, tonight, we have a main event that's been several weeks in the making. Champ, tonight, you defend your NFW Heavyweight Title against one who earned his shot by beating you in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial. I'm talking, of course, about Chris Wolfe. A man who has been very passionate about voicing his -- for lack of a better word -- disdain towards you. Not just as a wrestler, but as a human being it seems." Smiling as Josh speaks, Max leans into the microphone, cutting the man off before he can say more. "Chris Wolfe doesn't like me? Hell, *nobody* likes me! The only people that like me, frankly, are this bunch here that I'm surrounded by now. Why? Because, as I've said before, I let them know that it doesn't matter what critics say about them. It doesn't matter what smart marks or journalists or podcasters say about them. Each of these people around you, right now, Josh--" Max removes his arm from around Candi and raised his gloved hand to show his pinky, "--have more talent in their little finger than the rest of this entire goddamn roster put together. Do I care if Chris Wolfe likes or dislikes me? Absolutely not! All he is, is just what everyone else that stands in the opposite corner is to me. He's a piece of meat. He's beneath me. More than that, in tonight's case: he's an invader. A trespasser. Chris Wolfe is a goddamn thief looking to come into my domain and take what's mine. I already dealt with one thief. Granted, it didn't go the way I wanted it to, exactly, but Rick Dickulous is now, no longer a factor in this equation. He came into the devil's domain and he got shut out. And now here comes Chris Wolfe. A man who, yes, has pinned me twice. I won't deny that you've got talent Chris. That's why I reached out to you. That's why I offered you a place among us. The real future stars of this company. But what did you do? You slapped my hand away. You spat in my face. You fancy yourself a 'lone wolf.' Well that's all well and good, Chris, until that lone wolf finds himself having strayed into the territory of a pack. That's where you've found yourself, tonight. So by the time it's all said and done, you're gonna realize the mistake you made when you rejected my offer. You think refusing the Renegades makes you the better man. Nobody controls you. Nobody leads you, and all that. Nobody leads us, either! There are no leaders here! Just a tight knit crew of likeminded individuals who know what professional wrestling should really be all about! Nobody leads anybody in the Renegades, but we stick together. We stick together like blood. *You* have no blood here, Chris. You have no one! You might think you do, but you couldn't be more wrong. You think having your buddy from the Circle of Snakes and that little walking pile of issues stacks up to this...." He motions to the group of Renegades. "You know nothing, Chris Wolfe. You know...jack...fucking...shit! But that'll all change tonight, because I'm gonna open your eyes. You think I don't have shit lined up? I am one step ahead of you at all times. *We* are one step ahead of everybody else! Which brings me to the next person. I haven't forgotten about you Nico. Trust me. In fact, I've been keeping you in the back of my mind because I know exactly what's going through that head of yours. I know you're gonna be watching to see how this turns out, so let me do you a favor. Let me make *you* an offer. One that I know you won't refuse. After I kick the shit out of Chris Wolfe, tonight -- after I lay his ass out and hold up the one thing he wants more than anything else in this company..." He pats the NFW Heavyweight Title on his shoulder. "...You're next in line. That's right. *I* am challenging *you*, Nico, to Seasons Beatings. You want this fucking title? You want *MY* Heavyweight Championship?! Well, then, on December 17th, when we reach London for the end of our UK Invasion Tour, why don't you do exactly like your little theme song says and come and get it? I'll be waiting. And when that night comes, I just have one more piece of advice to give out and that's to you Judas. You better be watching. Because I'm not gonna be taking you lightly either. I know *exactly* what you are capable of. So I want you to pay attention to what I do to your mad dog's little pup...because in January...you're gonna be the next one I make an example of...." Max leans back from the mic and hangs a reassuring arm around Candi again, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"Th-thank you, champ." Swallowing nervously, Josh Davison looks to Julian Morrison. "Umm...Julian? A-anything you'd like to add?"
Shaking his head with an arrogant smirk, Julian adjusted his sunglasses before looking into the camera. "What exactly do you want me to say? Max is right. He is the man right now. The World Heavyweight Champion. And right now, my job is keep that championship in The Renegades by any means necessary. This group is my LIFE, Josh. I will do anything it takes to make sure this group remains a strong, cohesive unit."
He slapped Tyson on the chest then, as he looked back to the interviewer. "This man right here... has any hot young talent ever been buried with the gusto this promotion has tried to bury him with? Being used as the butt of Nico Salvatore's jokes. Screwed over by Mia Hayashi and Adam Cole with no consequence by NFW brass. And you know what? Look at him. He's not running away with his tail between his legs. He's not sulking or moping. This kid is raring to go. He wants to beat the ass of every person who's tried to hold him back. And by god, we are gonna help him do it. Believe me.... plans are in motion right now, to correct any mistakes we've made, and make this group stronger than EVER."
Finally, as if knowing how this usually went, Davison turned back to Max LeBrun for the final word, where the Champ locked his gaze on the camera. "After tonight...people are gonna start listening. They're gonna start seeing that we mean business.They're gonna watch how they carry themselves around us. They're gonna start taking us seriously. Shit, they'd better even watch what they fucking say!! Otherwise? May whatever deity they pray to...have mercy on their souls...." He slowly shook his head. "Because we sure as hell aren't going to...." Raising his fist, Max 'pulled the pin' before leading the way off camera, shoving Josh Davison back to get him out of their way as the Renegades left the frame and the shot faded out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Following the entrances, "Big Bad" Chris Wolfe and the "Toronto Daredevil" Max LeBrun stood back in their corners, waiting for the referee to call for the start of the match. Once he did--
~DING DING DING~
The champion and challenger stepped out of their corners and began circling one another.
HANSON
"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. This has been a match several weeks in the making!"
KLAZZIC
"If anyone deserves a shot at the title on this roster, it's that man! Chris Wolfe!"
After a tense moment, the two athletes lunged forward, locking up in the center of the ring.
HANSON
"There's the lockup. They're gonna fight for dominance right at the start."
What ensued was a series of technical grapples and chain maneuvers that saw Wolfe and LeBrun on equal footing, for the most part. As the match got fully underway, it became clear that Chris Wolfe definitely had Max LeBrun's number in the match. As the match continued on further, it began to look as though Wolfe was fully gaining the upper hand on LeBrun.
This was until Wolfe went for a missile dropkick from the top rope in which LeBrun moved out of the way and caused Wolfe to connect with the referee.
KLAZZIC
"AND THE REFEREE IS DOWN!! NO!!!"
HANSON
"Awww, you know where this is gonna end up."
REYNOLDS
"What are you insinuating, Nicky?"
KLAZZIC
"Oh you know exactly what this means, James Reynolds!"
REYNOLDS
"What, you think the champ caused that on purpose?"
HANSON
"No time to tell!"
While Max LeBrun was seemingly checking on the referee, Chris Wolfe capitalized and spun him around, hitting him with---
KLAZZIC
"THE DIREWOLFE!!! THERE IT IS!!!!!"
After Wolfe drilled LeBrun into the canvas, he immediately went for the cover, hooking the leg.
HANSON
"Wolfe has the cover!!"
REYNOLDS
"The ref's still down!!! There's no one to count!!"
KLAZZIC
"Don't sound so excited."
REYNOLDS
"What? I'm just stating a fact."
HANSON
"You're stating the obvious!"
KLAZZIC
"Aww, no. Don't look now, guys."
As Klazzic voiced his disdain, both Julian Morrison and Tyson Law looked to one another, then at the ring. Chris Wolfe also noticed this and stood up out of the cover, watching the two. Ready. Waiting.
HANSON
"This is gonna turn into a three on one, real quick."
However, before Morrison and Law even budged an inch, the crowd began cheering in excitement.
KLAZZIC
"Wait a minute!!!!! LOOK!!!! COMING DOWN THE RAMP!!!"
HANSON
"TYLER GREY!!! THANK GOD!!!"
REYNOLDS
"WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING HERE?!?!"
HANSON
"Doesn't matter!! At least the odds are evened out, somewhat!!"
As the crowd popped, Chris Wolfe's tag team partner, Tyler Grey came rushing down the ramp and sliding into the ring, immediately taking a stand next to Wolfe.
HANSON
"They don't look so willing to get in there now!!"
Instead of entering the ring for a fight, Law and Morrison looked up at the two, calmly, as Wolfe and Grey stood side by side. Tyler Grey stepped forward then, pointing and beckoning for the two to get in the ring with them.
KLAZZIC
"I think Tyler Grey's had enough of his friend and tag partner being pushed around by these ruffians!"
REYNOLDS
"Renegades, Matt."
KLAZZIC
"Oh, I don't care!"
HANSON
"Max LeBrun said he had a plan up his sleeve and I think it just backfired."
REYNOLDS
"Oh, what plan?! Julian and Tyson weren't even moving towards the ring!"
HANSON
"Oh but we all know they were thinking it!"
As soon as Hanson got the last word out of his mouth, Tyler Grey spun around, suddenly and nailed Chris Wolfe with a kick to the midsection.
HANSON
"WAIT A MINUTE!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"WHAT THE HELL?!?!?"
Before Chris Wolfe seemed to know what was going on, Tyler Grey grabbed him into position and drilled him into the mat with The Descent!!!!
KLAZZIC
"NO!!!!!"
HANSON
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!!"
A wave of boos filled the arena as Tyler Grey popped up onto one knee with a wry smile on his face.
HANSON
"WHAT THE HELL IS TYLER GREY DOING?!?!?"
KLAZZIC
"OH DON'T TELL ME!!!"
REYNOLDS
"BRILLIANT!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"BRILLIANT?!?!"
REYNOLDS
"FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!!"
HANSON
"IS THIS WHAT MAX LEBRUN WAS TALKING ABOUT?!"
Outside the ring, Julian Morrison and Tyson Law suddenly had noticeable smirks on their faces as Tyler Grey exited the ring, and walked over to high five both Julian and Tyson.
HANSON
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!!"
REYNOLDS
"YEEEESSSS!!!!!"
KLAZZIC
"YOU BACKSTABBING PIECE OF TRASH!!!!"
Inside the ring, the referee was climbing back to his feet. Max LeBrun was recovering from the Direwolfe and Chris Wolfe was struggling to pull himself up on the ropes.
HANSON
"This is the lowest form of treachery I have ever seen in my entire career as a wrestling broadcaster!!"
KLAZZIC
"This is sick!"
REYNOLDS
"This is brilliant!!"
KLAZZIC
"Oh, stuff it James Reynolds!"
At 28 minutes into the match, Max LeBrun made it to his feet after the referee recovered. Chris Wolfe pulled himself up to his feet, stumbling away from the ropes right towards Max as....
HANSON
"AND THERE'S THE SLAPSHOT!!! THAT VICIOUS KICK!!!"
Max LeBrun's foot connected with Chris Wolfe's jaw, sending him back into the ropes and stumbling towards Max again where the champion set him up and finished him off with the
REYNOLDS
"ANEURYSM ON THE CHALLENGER!!!"
KLAZZIC
"THIS CAN'T HAPPEN LIKE THIS!!!"
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREE!!
Ending the match officially at 28:36.
REYNOLDS
"It can and it did!!"
ARDEN
"Here is your winner...aaaand STILL....NFW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION....the Toronto Daredevil...MAX....LEBRUUUUUUN!!!!!!!"
As Huntress' "Destroy Your Life" filled the arena for the second time that night, Max LeBrun sat up in the ring, clutching his body in pain. Joining him were Julian Morrison, Tyson Law...and Tyler Grey. The first two helped the retaining champion to his feet while Grey stood in place to be directly in front of LeBrun who slowly grinned at the man and extended a fist. Next, Julian and Tyson extended their own. Finally, after looking around at the jeering crowd, Tyler Grey smirked, looking back at the three...and extended his own fist where the four all 'popped the pin.'
HANSON
"Nooooo friggin WAY!!!!!! NOT HIM!!!!! NO!!!"
KLAZZIC
"WHY, TYLER?!?! THAT MAN AT YOUR FEET WAS LIKE YOUR BROTHER!!!!!"
The final shot of the night saw Max LeBrun, Julian Morrison, Tyson Law and Tyler Grey standing side by side over the laid out Chris Wolfe. All four extending their fists with their thumbs out sideways while LeBrun raised the championship belt overhead in his other hand.
HANSON
"I hate that we have to end the night with this bullshit!!!"
KLAZZIC
"Ugh!! Language, Nick. But, me too!"
HANSON
"I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen. Forgive me language. You know I don't usually speak so colorfully but...just...god DAMN IT!!!!"
REYNOLDS
"THIS IS THE GREATEST NIGHT IN NFW HISTORY!!"
HANSON
"Oh shut up!!"
REYNOLDS
"So long, everyone!! We'll see you in Glasgow, next week!!"
The credits appear on screen as the camera angle fades to black....
