Post by NFWCommish on Apr 1, 2018 16:27:54 GMT -8
The camera opens on Erin Mercer in her locker room, sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out as she leans over, gripping the toe of her boot. She is broken from her concentration as we hear the door open; the woman looking up in surprise at first before her expression relaxes and she gets to her feet.
“You forget how to knock?” She asks with a wry smile as Vincent Stone steps into frame with his hands held up in submission.
“Hey...it’s me!” Stone remarks, impersonating a rather infamous character from cinema history.
Erin cracks a smirk, nodding. “Nice.” She says, breaking into a giggle as she and her friend and mentor share a fist bump. “Anyway, what’s up?”
Stone shrugs. “I just wanted to come check up on my best friend and make sure you’re all set for your match.”
Erin raises an eyebrow at the man. “What kind of question is that? I’m always ready. Are *you* ready for yours? Mr. Challenger for the Silver Mountain Championship!” She gives a playful shove to his arm.
Stone laughs. “Aren’t I always? I know I’d have better odds in a one on one against Adam Cole, but the way I look at it? I get to win some gold—“
“You mean silver?” Erin teases.
Stone rolls his eyes. “Excuse me - smartass - silver...and I get to get my hands on Abaddon again.”
Erin smiles, nodding, before she turns serious again. “Speaking of that...is Rosemary giving you any flack still?”
Stone sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Isn’t she always? I’m used to hearing it and brushing it off, at this point. She even came to me again earlier. Buuut, at least something neat came out of it.”
“What...?” Erin asks, hesitantly before Stone reaches behind him and pulls something from under his shirt, tucked into his jeans.
“BAM!” He flips out a rolled up t-shirt, unrolling it to reveal a garment with the words ‘ERIN MERCER’ in jagged red letters with a black and white stencil of her and her fists raised. Her hair on the shirt, however is a deep crimson with the words ‘RED DEATH’ underneath. “Check this out!”
Erin’s demeanor suddenly turns giddy as her eyes go wide and she squeals excitedly. “Eeeeeee! Oh my god! That is so cool! They made merchandise already?!”
Stone nods. “Yup!” He hands it to her. “I thought you’d like to promo it to the fans. Wear it out to the ring tonight. Little girls will be begging their parents for one!”
Erin takes it, smiling happily as she looks over the design and brings it to her chest. “Vin, thank you!” She gives him a sudden hug around the neck. Stone hugs her back, patting her shoulder. “I told you we’d make it big, didn’t I? And don’t say you wouldn’t be here without me!” He stops her as her mouth opens, pointing at her. “You got here yourself. They noticed you. And you’ve been drawing a bigger crowd week after week. After tonight? You’re gonna make headlines.”
Erin looks up and moves her hand like she’s drawing out a news headline. “Erin Mercer scores her first N*FW victory. Defeats Shelley Silver!”
“That’s right, girl!” Stone high fives her. “I’ll be watching from back here. Kick some ass! We’re gonna have a couple of brews after tonight!”
“Sounds good! And you can bet your ass, I will!” Erin pulls her shirt on and holds out her arms. “How do I look?”
Stone nods. “Like the kids say today, shit’s fire!” He does a mocking snap of his fingers. Erin busts out laughing. “You fucking dork! Hey, wish me luck out there. That’s a huge bitch I’m up against.” Stone shakes his head. “You’re gonna do fine. Remember your match with Awesome Kong?” Erin cringes. “Don’t remind me.”
“But you won, right? You can do this.” Vincent Stone holds up a fist. “I believe in you.”
“I believe in you, Peter.” Erin says in a childish voice and returns the fist bump as Stone rolls his eyes and playfully shoves her, getting her heading out the door. “Shut up and get out there!” He laughs, watching her go before shaking his head and stepping off frame himself.
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Shelley Silver defeated Erin Mercer by pinfall in 15:06 after giving her a Samoan driver she calls Sundown. Despite the size and strength difference, Mercer hard to keep down, no matter how much punishment Silver dished out.
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*Steven Brody sits behind his desk, shuffling through papers. He slides a few into the bottom slot of a desk organizer, and the rest in the top. His desk phone blinks, and an electronic version of "Ode To Joy" fills the room. He reaches over and lifts the reciever, the tone abruptly ends.*
"Steven Brody, what can I do for you?"
*A muffled voice can be heard, but is indistinguishable.*
"Ok, so, I can have paperwork sent to your email address, and we can sit down and talk turkey after you look it over."
*The voice again can be heard from the handset.*
"Of course there's a medical, and then we'd have to go through creative - I'm not going to lie, it could take awhile. If you're willing to wait, I'm sure we can find a place on the roster - we can always use more talent, especially yours."
*More muffled sounds from the handset speaker.*
"As long as you're sure you can handle the workload, I'll make sure to put in a good word."
"Ok? Perfect. Thank you too. Have a great day."
*Steven Brody reaches over and hangs up the phone. He brings his hand to his forehead, cradling it in his fingertips.*
"Oh, this is going to be interesting."
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Nico Salvatore defeated Shelton Benjamin by pinfall in 16:22 after countering a superkick attempt and hitting him with To The Gods.
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The camera opens on a close up of a photo of Morgan Payne, pinned to a wall. The kanji for ‘shin’ is written across it in black ink. As the shot pans back, we see the wall with the entire women’s roster on it. Unlike Morgan’s photo, they are left unmarked. A moment later, we hear a woman’s voice, speaking slow and cool. While the language is in Japanese, subtitles serve to translate for viewers.
“Vengeance.... Is that what lies in your heart...Marissa Payne?” As we pan further back, we see that the wall of photos is inside a traditional styled Japanese home. It looks to be a sort of training room. A personal dojo of sorts. “Is it vengeance for your comrade that you hope to achieve?”
A sudden flash on the screen brings us back to the previous week. The match between Angel and Morgan Payne. Filtered in grainy, black and white, we see the moment that Morgan Payne was injured from the enziguri while on the top turnbuckle. The woman’s voice continues on as a voice over. “She knew, very well, what the consequences were. Or...perhaps she didn’t....”
Another cut shows a grainy, black and white recap of Morgan and Marissa discussing that very match in the gym. Editing brings us a close up on Morgan’s almost smug smirking face. “Like you...she underestimated her opponent. She underestimated...me.”
The shot cuts to a close up of Angel’s cold stare as she watches, from the ramp, as the EMTs tend to Morgan. “Now there is you...Marissa-san....” Cutting back to the Japanese home, we pan back further until the shoulder of a figure in a black and purple robe comes into view, kneeling in a meditative state. “You...as well as her...are a but obstacles in my way to something greater. A prize held by a creature....” The camera flashes and we see that same grainy, black and white filter over a short compilation of shots, showing the destruction wrought by the Women’s Champion, Apocalypta. The shot ends with the champ standing victoriously at the end of the battle royale, holding the title up high.
“All of you...are but stepping stones...to my glory.”
Another quick series of clips shows Angel’s stiff, vicious offense in the ring from past opponents - even before coming to N*FW. The camera cuts back to the shot in the home, panning over Angel until she comes into view fully on the side of the screen.
“Morrigan’ was the first....”
The pan stops and focuses on Angel’s face under her hood before she slowly lifts her head and opens her eyes. Special effects causing their blue color to glow eerily in the dim light.
“Marissa-san.... You....”
She smiles eerily, lifting a photo of Marissa up in front of the camera with a black circle drawn around it.
“...Are next....”
Cut to black
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Marissa Payne defeated Kid Cthulu by referee stoppage in 7:32 after connecting with a roundhouse kick to the jaw, and then continuing to throw kicks at Cthulu's head even once the girl fell to the mat.
After the match, Marissa called for the mic, not even paying any mind to her opponent being stretchered from the ring.
"ANGEL! If last week wasn't enough of a hint for you... here's something more upfront: You're on borrowed time, bitch. I don't care how scary you act, or how hard you work at being creepy... you do NOT scare me. And hey... I know accidents happen. I'm not mad because you hurt Morgan. I'm mad because you injured my best fucking friend and then gloated about it like it was some badge of honor. You think you know fear, little girl? You don't. But when I get my hands on you? Trust me.... you will."
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Before the bell could ring for Steele & Law vs Shields & Shade, I Prevail’s “Come and Get It” came blasting on throughout the arena as Nico Salvatore appeared on stage. Dressed more casually and ‘less flashy’ (in other words, wearing jeans, sneakers and a grey V-neck t-shirt under an open black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows), Nico makes his way down the ramp and around the ring to join Mike Hanson and James Reynolds on commentary.
Reynolds: “Well, hey Nico! Came to hang out with us and get the beat seat for the action, huh?”
Nico: “Hell, why not? Youse don’t mind do ya?”
Reynolds: “Not at all! Welcome! Nicky, we got Nico with us! This is great!”
As the bell finally rings and the match starts, commentary continues.
Nico: “You don’t look very happy to see me out here, Nick. There a problem?”
Reynolds: “Yeah, is there a problem, Nick?”
Hanson: “I just have to wonder what it is that brings you out here, exactly. Excuse me if I’m a little skeptical.”
Nico: “What do ya mean ‘what brings me out here’? I’m watching a tag team match!”
Reynolds: “Quit being such a dick, Nick! Hey, that rhymes. Hahaha!”
A brief cut to the commentary table shows the three sitting with Nick Hanson stuck in between Nico and James Reynolds. The man has a look on his face like he’d rather be elsewhere. He turns to Nico then who sits leans back in his chair, focusing on the match.
Hanson: “And this has nothing to do, whatsoever, with the fact that Tyson Law is in this match? You know: the one you openly called out?”
Nico cracks a grin, turning from the match towards Nick Hanson.
Nico: “Well ain’t you a smart one? Of course it does. I laid out a challenge to the guy, I wanna see what I’m up against.”
Hanson: “You saw what you were up against when you debuted against him, didn’t you?”
Nico: *rolling his eyes* “You’re not a fighter, are you Nick? Don’t answer that. Let me drop som knowledge on you. Jimmy probably already knows this. You know the best way to assure victory? It’s to study your enemy. Learn their tactics. ‘If you know the enemy, and know yourself, you need not fear the outcome of a hundred battles.’”
Reynolds: “Hey! That’s the Art of War, right?”
Nico: “My man!”
Nico reaches across Nick Hanson and fist bumps James Reynolds before the camera cuts back to the action in the ring.
Hanson: “So, you’re here to ‘study’ Law. Is that all?”
Reynolds: “Nicky, did you just make a pun?”
Hanson: “Oh, shuuut uuup!”
Nico laughs at Hanson’s annoyance.
Nico: “Yeah, I’m here to study my opponent. You know why? Because I respect my opponent. I’m here to let him know that I take him seriously and I look forward to our match. Something that can’t be said about everyone I face.”
Reynolds: “They don’t call him the gladiator for nothing, Nicky!”
Hanson: “Can it, Jim.”
Reynolds: “Fuck you, Nicky.”
Hanson: “Okay, and what about the other superstars in this match? Do you have any insight on them? In fact, I have to wonder about your thoughts on your match tonight, against Shelton Benjamin. Since you talk about knowing your opponent. Shouldn’t you be focused on him, instead?”
Nico: “I’m not worried about Shelton Benjamin. Why should I be? He’s predictable and he’s old news. He’s only an object in my way towards what I’m aiming for. As for these guys? Can’t say much about Satoru Shade. I’ve heard his name but before he came here, I never really paid attention. Steele? We used to work in a fed together but never really crossed paths. Would you believe I’ve been in the ring with Colt Shields, though?”
Hanson: “Is that so?”
Nico: “Oh yeah! We had some battles, I’ll tell ya. Doesn’t change my opinion about him, though. I’m surprised Fucktardo, there, hasn’t tried to come at me yet.”
Reynolds can be heard snickering as Hanson takes a moment to try and call some actual action.
Hanson: “What the hell is wrong with you, now?”
Reynolds: “He called him Fucktardo! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Reynolds can be heard falling out of his chair as his headset comes off. While Nico and Nick Hanson call the match, Reynolds can be heard cackling in the background - his stray headset picking his voice up.
Hanson: “Jim! Will you compose yourself and come do your damn job?”
Reynolds, in the background: “AAAAAAGGHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Hanson: “Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize. I guess I’m on my own here until my colleague calms down.
Nico: “Nah, you’re not alone, Nicky. Ya got me here. C’mon lets call a match."
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Law & Steele defeated Shields and Shade by pinfall in 11:28 when Law hit Shields with a popup powerbomb, followed by Steele hitting a frog splash for the win.
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Hanson: “What an impressive victory, tonight, for Tyson Law and Ryan Steele. JIM! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”
In the background still, we hear James Reynolds dying from laughter.
Hanson: “Hopefully, he’ll compose himself here, soon. Where are you going?”
Nico: “Match is over, Nicky. I’m almost done here, but I got one more thing to do. ‘Scuse me.”
We hear Nico pull his headset off seconds before seeing him climb up onto the apron and enter the ring just as Tyson Law is following Ryan Steele out on the other side. A yell from Nico catches Law’s attention. The man looking almost skeptical at the guest commentator’s appearance. Regardless, Nico applauds Tyson, nodding in approval and clearly commending him on a well fought match.
Walking to the center of the ring, Nico sticks out his hand in an offer to shake Tyson’s. Tyson comes to stand with him in the center of the ring. After a moment of hesitation and reassurance from Nico, the man accepts the handshake. Nico shakes Tyson’s hand before adjusting his grip on the man’s wrist and raises his arm up, pointing at him with his other hand to the crowd.
Hanson: “Are you finally, done?”
Reynolds: “Ugh...yeah. God, that was funny. What’d I miss?”
Hanson: “Three fourths of the damn match! But we got a show of respect from Nico Salvatore, here, at least. WAIT, NO! C’MON!!”
As Tyson Law goes to finally leave the ring, Nico spins him around and nails him with a low blow kick before setting him up under his legs. To the boos of the crowd, Nico makes a quick gesture with a sideways thumb turning down - similar to how a Roman Emperor would do to give a gladiator the order to kill - and hoists Tyson Law up onto the back of his shoulders, driving him down with the To The Gods crucifix bomb.
Afterwards, Nico stood over Tyson, with a sly grin before finally leaving the ring and exiting through the crowd.
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Backstage, we see Vincent Stone leaning against the concession table, looking down at his phone in his hand. Whatever he’s looking at has him laughing hysterically.
A stagehand comes walking towards the man with the Hands of Stone pushing a laundry cart, that appears to be full of shirts and stops, looking up at him like “ I don’t know man” and shrugs and walks off.
When he looks at the cart he will see a note saying, “You should try and sell these” in scribbled crayon.
Picking up the note, Stone’s expression turns to one of curiosity...and confusion...as he reads the scribbled words before reaching into the cart of t-shirts and pulls one out. He unfolds it to look at the t-shirt design.
As he is looking at the t-shirt design, Rosemary springs from the cart, showering him in t-shirts, beer cozy’s and posters, as they hit him and all fall to the ground “Hi Stoney, how are you, nevermind we don’t really care”. She is wearing a new t-shirt with her on one side and him on the other with the words Odd Couple in yellow surrounded by a red outline.
Immediately after she shows up on the camera it goes to static, you see the words Hands of Decay on the screen and the camera returns to normal and she is still there looking over her left shoulder at him, her painted on smile making the whole moment creepily alluring.
She gets out of the cart and sits down next to him. “What are we laughing at?”
Stone literally jumps out of being startled as he is bombarded with merchandise. When the rain of items ceases, the man uncovers his face from a t-shirt and tosses it back into the laundry cart. He sets his phone aside and hops off of the table, moving to get a closer look at the bushel of goodies. “Rosemary…?” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he turns back around to face her, thumbing over his shoulder. “What the hell is all this?”
“Rude, oh well” She gets down from where she was sitting next to him and walks over and shows him her new shirt “ Merchandise silly, We figured what better way to cut a promo this week than sell some stuff as well.. Right? I mean it made sense to us”?
Vincent Stone looks at her t-shirt with a confused frown before picking up a coozie. “Merchandise?” He looks up from the coozie and back to her again. “Rosemary...you are taking this ‘alliance’ of ours a little too far. It’s not like we’re a permanent fixture in this industry. When the hell did you make all of this? Matter of fact, who did you go to to have this stuff made?” He looks at her, waiting for an answer, doubtful that she actually made it herself.
“Blame marketing, we didn’t do any of this. We are fond of our new shirt though.. And the new hoodie… oh did you see the new hoodie?”
She rummages around in the cart for a few moments and pulls out a grey hoodie and shows him the back of it. Emblazoned on the back is a picture of him and the words “ Hands of Stone” with the word Stone having the word Decay written over it in green. “Like we said blame marketing. “
Tossing the hoodie over his face and begins to rummage again in the cart “ This is not just about us though.. We have the whole roster in here, we think” Pulling out an Erin Mercer shirt and looking at it for a moment, than shaking her head and tossing it over her shoulder, “Still have no clue who that is.” Back to rummaging she goes and pulls out a new hoodie for Angel. Done in black and has pictures of Angel and her Manager together, she looks on in disgust” AngelDu-- we mean Dust is a better wrestler --- “. Looking up at him, and then down at the pile of stuff and back up at him.
“Stoney, want to help us?”
“No!” Stone almost snaps, yanking the hoodie off of his face and waves his hands, stopping them out to the sides. “I told you: this isn’t a permanent gig! We’re not even allies. We’re partners for a little while. We’re not a team. We’re not a unit. We sure as hell aren’t friends!” He picks up the Erin Mercer t-shirt and holds it up. “And by the way? THIS is my friend. A good friend. You might get a little less animosity from me if you started showing a little more respect towards her, and—-“ Something in the cart catches his eye and Stone picks out a little wrestling plush of himself wearing a Hands of Decay t-shirt with his face painted up in black, white and green. He blinks and looks at Rosemary again. “Are you fucking serious…?”
She shrugs “Marketing sees a good thing, we think it looks good on you. As far as, whoever is on that shirt… when she becomes relevant to us, we’ll pay attention until then we have a knock off to kill and a pez dispenser to set on fire. “ She grabs the t-shirt with Erin Mercer from his hands and tosses it far away. “Who are you wrestling again this week?”
Stone rolls his eyes and sighs as he watched Rosemary toss the shirt away. “...I’m in the triple threat for the Silver Mountain championship. Do you even read the card or just glance at your own match and blank out the rest?”
“Not exactly, we have a lot on our plat here and … elsewhere. “ She smiles at him. “Are you willing to go as far as necessary to get the win? Because we don’t believe you. We gave you Adam Cole on a platter, you failed to capitalize. We want you to gain gold.. But we know the only way you get there is to release your anguish on the enemy and finish them. So are you up to the task?
Stone closes his eyes in frustration. “Rosemary, you’re beating a dead horse...not literally, thankfully...but you know what I mean.” He lets out an exasperated huff. “I will do whatever it takes to win. So long as it’s done clean. You hear me? *Clean*! Because I know I can do it that way. I don’t need to ‘release my anguish’ or ‘look into the darkness of my soul’ or whatever to do this. In case you hadn’t realized, we’re working together to stop a bunch of nutjobs who do just that. I’m a wrestler. Not a maniac. So again; let me do this. You? Stay out of it.”
“The problem is, we have stayed out of it. Look where that has gotten you. There is a saying fight fire with fire, you just aren’t doing it. “ Getting uncomfortably close to the mans face as he bends backwards just a little. “ I will deal with the fallen angel, the knock off and my favourite little pez dispenser, then I will be at your side during the match. This little puppy dog will show you, one final time, what is necessary to deal with madmen, we can only show you the dark path so often, the door is closing, step through to the other side. “
She pantomimes the licking of the mans face and slams the handcuffs into his outstretched hand, and walks off.
As she turns to go, the camera goes static again and rather than showing you the Hands of Decay in green it shows you Rosemary’s Hands in red, dripping like blood and the camera returns to Vincent Stone, standing there handcuffs in hand, watching her leave as the shot fades out.
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Lara Blackheart defeated Mia Hayashi by disqualification when, as Lara was angrily taunting Mia to get up for the Blackheart Blitz, out of the crowd came APOCALYPTA! Sliding into the ring and quickly hopping to her feet, the female monster of the Circle of Snakes shot across the ring with that impressive speed and proverbially broke the second generation superstar in half with her vicious spear known as the MOAB.
Even as the bell was rung by the referee, Apocalypta stood menacingly over Lara as Mia climbed to her feet and came to lean over her former friend, taunting slapping and kicking at her.
Meanwhile, Apocalypta exited the ring and began digging under the apron.
Hanson: “C’mon, the match is over! There’s no need for this!”
Reynolds: “Even I gotta agree, Nicky. This is two on one. Someone get out here!”
Hanson: “What the hell is Apocalypta doing? What is she—aww no! No!”
A unanimous boo came from the crowd as Apocalypta pulled a table from under the ring and slid it in under the bottom rope. She re-enters the ring as Mia viciously kicks at the grounded Lara. She even begins cheering as Apocalypta quickly sets the table up. The intimidating woman then pushes Mia out of the way with one hand before pulling Lara to her feet by the hair. Barely able to stand, Lara is lifted into a vertical suplex position by Apocalypta before the Women’s Champion drops her into position and drives her through the table with the Ground Zero!
Hanson: “NO! NO! GODDAMN IT!”
Apocalypta climbs to her feet then, standing menacingly over Lara for a moment before looking to Mia. The latter grinning big and nodding as she offers a fist bump only for Apocalypta to turn away and leave the ring. Mia makes a hasty advance after her, following close behind as Apocalypta takes her leave of the ringside area from around the ramp and stage, never even looking back at the ring as Shelley Silver runs to the ring to help Laura..
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*Rick Dickulous' locker room door fills the screen. A hand extends from the bottom right corner of the screen and knocks on the door. Cursing and clattering can be heard from behind the door, suddenly it opens to reveal Rick Dickulous sitting in a wheelchair, smiling*
"Hey, cameraperson! Long see no time, *hic* eh?"
*The cameraman's voice seems to come from nowhere*
"Uhhh, Rick? Are you drunk? And, what was all that crashing?"
"Oh, yeah, *hic*, that. I'm tryin ta see why MADD is so against drinked driving....err..drive drinking....*hic*...I mean, drunk driving."
*Rick drunkenly motions the cameraman into the dressing room as he wheels himself in. The camera follows, showing Rick bouncing off a wall before swinging violently aroumd a corner, giggling. He disappears, the camera walks down the hall and swings around to show Rick sprawled out on the floor, his right knee in a heavy brace*
"I think I know why they're against it, but I could be *hic* wrong. Right now the room is spinning like a dryer with a brick in it, guy! I'm totally pissed!"
*Rick rolls himself over, and clumsily tries to pull himself back into the wheelchair. It rolls backwards, the cameraman reaches forward and puts on the nearest brake, reaching over to engage the second. Rick crawls into the chair and sighs*
"I gotta stop drinking..."
*The camera pans over to show beer cans and liquor bottles haphazardly scattered around, various takeout containers also cover a table*
"Uhhh, how much have you had, Rick?"
"Loooots, buddy! Like, I had a two-four, Willy, Pitt, *hic* and I polished that off. Then there was a twenty-sixer of Captain Morgan I had to myself. Then *hic* I got into the forty pounder of Canadian Club, and then I ate some motherfuckin' donairs! I was just givin'er! Hey, friend, I never asked you what your name is....I mean, you're an honourary Canadian, I like to keep on a first name basis with my fellow Canucks..."
"M-my name is Cameron. You're the first person here to actually ask that, ya know? Nobody cares ab--"
*Rick puts his finger to Cameron's lips*
"Shhhhh!! Take off, eh?! You're a cameraperson named Cam? I can't *hic* write this shit! This is hooped!"
*Cameron pushes Rick's hand away and shakes his head*
"You're not the first one to make that joke. Just throwin' that out there. So, two questions for you....one, where is the interviewer? Two, where are Willy and Pitt?"
*Rick smacks himself in the forehead*
"Shit. Don couldn't *hic* make it tonight, he said something about playoffs starting and was all excited about *hic* Boston. Looks like it's just us. Willy and Pitt are off looking for a cover for our chesterfield."
*Rick points at the couch*
"I asked them to pick up some brown bread, freezies, and *hic* some chocolate bars, but I don't know when they'll be back. This is what *hic* happens when I get a night off. It's piss up and shit food night, eh?"
"I'm surprised you're not making out with Anne Murray, Rick. I'd figure you'd be taking advantage of the night off."
*Rick chuckles*
"Cam, my boy, every day is Anne Murray day."
*Rick shakes his head quickly from side to side with his eyes closed tightly. He stops shaking his head and opens his eyes, and suddenly seems sober*
"What I really wanted to talk about, guy, is Adam Fucking Cole, and my ending up in this contraption."
"Yeah, I should've probably asked you awhile ago how bad your injury is. See, this is why I'm a cameraman."
"Who cares about that? You should've seen the nurses! Oh, Cam...I got extra sponge baths. They liked what's under my kilt....and I certainly liked what was under theirs...if ya know what I mean? Because if ya don't, they had very tasty pie, eh? Ya get me?"
*Cameron sighs*
"Yes....I got you. I didn't need the extra description."
"Here's how I see it, Cam. Adam Fucking Cole is simply keeping my belt warm for me. I want to thank him in advance. He won it by sheer luck, and he *Rick makes finger quotes* TECHNICALLY beat me last week - but, did he really?"
"Well, uhhh, he IS still the champion, so I'm gonna say he did...but, what's your take on it?"
*Rick smiles*
"Cam, there's hope for you as an interviewer yet, eh? I was unconscious, and everyone knows you stop the match when that happens, guy. So, by the rules, I didn't lose...the match was a no contest. So, since our match hasn't ended yet....."
"But, Rick, the match is already done. It's in the books."
"Well, friend, my book is the only one that counts. Here it is, plain and simple: I WILL make Adam Fucking Cole collect pogey. When I take the Silver Mountain Championship from him - and believe me, it WILL be me who takes it from him - he will need months to recover, not a day, not a week...no, it's time to drop the gloves for real. Sorry, not sorry!"
*Rick wheels back from the table*
"Now, Cam-guy, shut that camera off and let's go burn Anne Murray's bush!"
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Cutting to a darkened room in the backstage area, the camera focuses on a live coral snake slithering around a woman’s tattooed arm with the hand wrapped in fighter’s tape marked with a red pentagram. Panning back, we see that the handler is none other than Apocalypta. We pan back enough to see that she’s standing beside a table with a glass pen on it; a small white dove moving about nervously in it’s confinement.
“Are you paying attention, Angel?” She asks, carefully stroking the snake under it’s jaw as she keeps a safe hold on it. “I certainly hope so. I hope all of you are...all who are fated to meet with us of the Circle of Snakes on this night.... The Commissioner can book whatever match he wants. It doesn’t matter. If I have to play his little game and cooperate with another lamb to the slaughter. I’ll do it. If I have to go through a little girl with identity issues...I’ll do it.” She looks at the camera. “But my sights are on you. They always have been. And once you’re in my crosshairs...there is no escape....”
"Patience, dear Apocalypta." Came the deep, sullen voice of Abaddon. He walked in, slowly holding his arms out as he turned his gaze skyward. "The sky shall open... as angels fall. And this fallen angel shall be put to sacrifice, in the name of The Circle of Snakes. Despite what she thinks... none can match your pure strength and savagery in that ring. And none will tear that championship from your grasp. It is yours... for as long as you want it."
“Angel...an angel in name, merely.” Apocalypta says as she gently pets the venomous reptile coiled contently around her wrist. “But no more than a little dove when she sets foot into the serpent’s den. She’s nothing more than prey for the predator.” Here, she opens a small latch in the roof of the pen and lowers her hand down into it. As the dove backs into a corner, beginning to make nervous coos, the coral snake slithers gracefully from Apocalypta’s hand and down into it’s enclosure. Apocalypta shuts the lid as the snake starts to slowly slither around the pen at first. Each time it gets closer to the dove, at first the bird hops and flutters out of the way, trying to avoid danger.
From behind the glass contraption, she picks up the N*FW Women’s Championship and holds it up beside her. “This prize...belongs to the Circle of Snakes. It belongs to me. The rats...would do well to concern themselves with self preservation...rather than try to reach the top of the food chain. Tonight, I’ll be making a statement...just to prove my point.”
"Your accomplishment... being the first of The Circle to win a championship.... will be rewarded. We will see to it that this pretender never comes CLOSE to taking that title from you. She will find that she knows nothing about pain and suffering." Abaddon gave a sick grin, crossing his arms over his chest. "But she will learn. Oh, yes. She will indeed learn."
Apocalypta bows her head at Abaddon’s gracious commendation. “And after tonight...” She looks back up at Abaddon, speaking of him in the third person. “...our master stakes his own claim. A true angel...the Angel of Death...soars to the peak of the Silver Mountain...and reigns fire and destruction down on the unworthy!”
Finally, Apocalypta turns her attention back to the snake pen, hanging her title over her shoulder as she kneels down behind it to watch the events unfold. The camera, meanwhile, closes in on the other side and we see Apocalypta’s void white eyes watching intently. “It doesn’t matter who they are...or where they come from...when the snake strikes...there is no escape....” We see from the camera’s perspective as the coral snake finally lashes out and catches the young dove with it’s jaws, coiling around it in a vice like grip. Apocalypta watches, emotionlessly as the snake constricts around it’s prey until the frantic cooing stops.
------------------------------------------------------------
In an absolute crushing, Belphegor defeated Scott Leroux by pinfall in 1:42 to win the TV Title after spearing him and then destroying him with a jackhammer called The Ninth Circle.
----------------------------------------------------------
The tag team match between The Rebel Rousers and GreyWolf ended in a no contest.
As Chris Wolfe and Chase Evans were battling it out in the ring. The fans looked on as two figures in all black clothing with hoods hopped over the barricade.
Nick Hanson: “Hey, wait a minute; what the hell?”
James Reynolds: “Who the fuck are these guys?”
The two men in hoods immediately rushed over behind where Tyler Grey was standing on the apron; one of them grabbing his foot and yanking him down off of the apron. While Grey managed to land skillfully on his feet, he was floored a second after by a sudden superkick from the second hooded man. The resounding ‘SMACK’ of a foot across Grey’s jaw earning a loud “OHHHHH” from the crowd.
Reynolds: “GODDAMN! Did you hear that Nick?!”
Hanson: “I did, but what the hell is going on?!”
Meanwhile, the one to pull Grey off of the apron slid into the ring under the bottom rope and hopped to his feet just as Chris Wolfe was coming off of the ropes for what was likely aimed to be a running attack to a grounded Chase Evans. A second superkick stopped him immediately in his tracks though before the second hooded man joined his comrade in the ring.
Hanson: “And a superkick to Chris Wolfe! Jim, what the hell, man?!”
Teddy Morse entered the ring in a hurry to help his partner up and the Rebel Rousers stood just feet apart from the hooded men interrupting the match. The latter, at first, ignored the referee’s urgent demand that they leave the ring. Meanwhile, Morse and Evans - clearly having no idea what was going on - stood with their hands in a mutually confused, low shrug. We can see Morse mouthing ‘who the hell are y’all?’
Slowly, both hooded men reach up and unzip their hoodies. The first hint of their identity we see is a familiar skull and cross guns logo with an equally familiar name.
Reynolds: “Whaaaat the fuuuuck?!”
Hanson: “Wait...wha—...Bullet Club?!”
Together, both men in the Bullet Club t-shirts suddenly yank back their hoods to reveal the grinning faces of....
Hanson: “OH MY GOD!!! IT’S NICK AND MATT JACKSON!! IT’S THE YOUNG BUCKS!!”
Reynolds: “THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE?!”
Morse and Evans look equally confused by the sudden reveal. They only have a second to process what’s going on before Nick Jackson looks to his brother and holds up three fingers to his brother, Matt, with a suggestive look on his face. Nodding, Matt returns the gesture and the two of them suddenly lash out with a DOUBLE SUPERKICK to the Rebel Rousers.
This puts the referee into a fit of annoyance as he starts yelling even louder at the Young Bucks from behind. Nick and Matt turn to look at the ref. They exchange glances with each other - ‘this guy’ - and deliver another double superkick to the referee!
Hanson: “THEY JUST SUPERKICKED THE REFEREE!”
Reynolds: “THAT WAS AWESOME!!”
Hanson: “THEY CAN’T DO THAT!!
Reynolds: “WHO CARES?! HAHAHAHA!!”
Hanson: “WE NEED SECURITY OUT HERE! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”
Security does indeed begin to rush to the ring. However, officer that enters the ring is viciously superkicked right back out. What quickly becomes evident as an infamous Young Bucks Superkick Party, results in half a dozen security staff being taken out as well as several other referees. Eventually, Nick and Matt take the ‘party’ to the outside of the ring, superkicking anyone in their path. More referees. More security. The bell keeper. When it looks like they’re about to even turn their violence on the terrified ring announcer, Nick Hanson jumps to his feet.
Hanson: “DON’T YOU DARE! DON’T-YOU-FUCKING-DARE!”
Hanson is given a double superkick by Nick Jackson for his efforts. Meanwhile, Matt has made his way leisurely around to Reynolds’ side. Reynolds, however, has also stood up, laughing hysterically.
Reynolds: “HAHAHAHAHA! HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS AWESOME!”
But he’s given the next superkick by Matt, knocking his headset right off as he drops.
Finally, the aftermath of carnage at ringside, the Young Bucks grab a single microphone and slide back into the ring. Facing each other, they exchange mock looks of surprise at what has transpired by their own doing. Then, whether it’s meant as a tribute or a mockery of the NWO, the brothers point towards the stage with one arm arched over their heads.
And right on cue, the lights around the stage dim as the familiar theme song, Devil’s Sky suddenly kicks on over the speakers. A mixture of cheers and boos resonates throughout the audience as THE CLEANER, KENNY OMEGA, comes walking out on stage. Dressed in all black, jeans boots, a leather jacket and one of his own t-shirts, Kenny Omega looks around him at the crowd through a pair of sunglasses before beginning a casual walk down towards the ring.
As he reaches ringside, the Young Bucks sit on the second rope, lifting the top one for him and he enters the ring smoothly, taking the microphone from them at the same time while coming to stand dead center in it. Nick and Matt flank him. Looking down, Kenny removes his sunglasses and lifts his head with a wicked smile. He tucks the sunglasses into his jacket and raises the mic to speak as his music fades out.
“You people.... Tell the truth, now. You people didn’t, honestly, think that you weren’t gonna see these two, did you?”
He gestures to either side with a finger to the Bucks.
“You people didn’t honestly think that you weren’t going to see *me*, did you?”
He thumbs to himself, before turning in a circle, addressing the entire crowd.
“You people...didn’t honestly think...that you weren’t going to see US...did you?!”
“Hahahahahahahaha.” With his trademark, wicked laugh, Kenny Omega nods slowly. “You knew this was coming...you KNEW! I’m sure most of you - those who fancy themselves as ‘hardcore wrestling fans’....” He makes quotation marks with his free hand. “...took a wild guess that after last week, something - SOMETHING - was going to happen. Well guess what? Congratulations! For once, you were able to predict something for once while sitting on your asses at home, just WAITING to see if your prediction came to light!”
He pauses, taking a gander at the crowd. An audible chant of ‘The...Elite! The-The Elite!’ flowing through the fans. “Shut up. SHUT...UP!” Kenny points as he turns. “I don’t wanna hear it! We don’t need your support. That’s not why we came here. You see, it hasn’t escaped me how you rooted for a couple of painted up motherfuckers who took it to two of our boys last week. So don’t suddenly act like you’re ‘excited’ to see us. Don’t act like we’re gonna retweet your ‘marking out’ of this moment. Because we’re not. You see, we’re not here for you. We’re not here to show support for whatever it is that New Japan Pro Wrestling and your ‘New Frontier’ have going on together. Frankly, this business partnership idea can go straight to hell.”
Kenny pauses again and grins wickedly. “You see, we didn’t come here to share ideas. We didn’t come here to trade talent. We didn’t come here to inter-promote. No...we came here...to shut-this-place-DOWN!” He gestures with a finger violently pointing downward. “We’re here to send the New Frontier a message that there is only one *true* wrestling company worth it’s weight in the world. And if we have to claim every one of your little championships to do so? Oh yeah, you can bet your sorry asses that we’re gonna do JUST THAT! We don’t care about the mediocre titles. Your TV championship, your ‘Silver Mountain’ championship - which has a stupid fucking name anyway - no, we’re going to take your most prestigious prizes and leave your second rate roster with-absolutely-nothing. When your tag team championships come up for grabs? These guys—“ He thumbs over to Nick and Matt, “—are gonna be there. You guys are gonna have an intercontinental title come into the mix? Mark my words: the Bullet Club-will-be there. And oh yeah, when your grandest prize of them all-because I know it’s coming, and *you all* know it’s coming-the world championship comes up for grabs? You can be DAMN SURE that *I* will be there! And when the dust settles...when this war is over - because a declaration of war is EXACTLY what this is - New Frontier Wrestling will be a smoldering pile of wreckage with the skull and guns flag flying high over head so that all of you never forget who was responsible for bringing it down! Because WE are the best! WE are the greatest talents to ever step into a wrestling ring. WE are the Bullet Club and we RULE the wrestling world. So on that note, and until further notice, GOOD-BYE....”
Kenny brings up his finger, pointed like a gun and kisses it. “MwwWAH! And good...NIGHT!” He aims it at the stage making a mock shot. “BANG!”
Devil’s Sky resumes over the speakers as Kenny Omega tosses the mic out of the ring. He and the Young Bucks exchange a Too Sweet together before exiting the ring and making their way up the ramp.
As they reach the stage, we hear the rustling of headsets as Nick Hanson and James Reynolds recover at their table.
Reynolds: “Augh...fuck that hurt! You okay, Nicky?”
Hanson: “Ungh...I think so.... Jim, did you catch any of that?”
Reynolds: “I think I was out.... What the hell happened?”
Hanson: “My god, I think...Jim, I think we’ve just been invaded....”
As Hanson says this, the shot fades out with Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks standing on the stage....
-------------------------------------------------------
The women’s tag team match took on a rather surprising and unseen turn of events.
First, after Angel and Rosemary had made their entrances, Candi Brodeur came third and waited in her team’s designated corner. As Apocalypta’s grueling metal riff started up, the camera cut to the backstage area where we saw the woman of the Circle of Snakes making her way - disinterested at best - towards the entrance stage.
As she begins passing by a raised scaffolding, a rather startling crash sounds as a literal rain of bricks comes crashing down onto her. Apocalypta, making an effort to shield her head, goes down in the pile.
Reynolds: “What in the fresh hell?!”
Hanson: “Oh my god!!! Who...?!”
The camera quickly pans up, revealing...MARISSA PAYNE!! Standing on the scaffolding with her hands holding onto an upturned wheelbarrow, she assesses the damage done by her own actions, looking madder than all hell the entire time before she shoves the wheelbarrow off the edge. We hear it clatter loudly to the concrete floor as Marissa walks off camera, before cutting back to ringside.
After some heated debate with the referee, Candi Brodeur didn’t seem too concerned with her partner being unable to make it to the ring. Finally, the referee calls over the ring announcer to relay something to her. After a moment, the woman steps back, raising the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has informed me that Candi Brodeur still wishes to compete. Therefore, this match is now a HANDICAP TAG MATCH!”
Hanson: “WHAT?!”
Reynolds: “AWESOME FUCKING SAUCE!”
Hanson: “No! This is wrong! She doesn’t have to do this!”
——————————————————
The match started off with Candi vs Angel. While both women were ready for a fight, it looked like Angel’s martial arts, striking based style was giving her an edge against Candi’s grappling and submission. Angel didn’t even seem willing to tag out. It was only after a stiff kick that knocked Candi off her feet that she stepped over for some quick advice from Eido Tanaka that Rosemary suddenly tagged herself in with a rather harsh slap to Angel’s back. Grinning eerily, Rosemary slid in through the ropes and began honing in on Candi as she climbed to her feet, still rearing to go.
Before the two even locked up, as they were circling the ring against one another, a commotion started up in the crowd. The audience giving a loud pop.
Hanson: “What the hell’s going on now, Ji— WAIT A MINUTE!”
Nick Hanson exclaims as Marissa Payne comes from the crowd, leaping over the guard rail near Rosemary and Angel’s corner.
Hanson: “IT’S MARISSA PAYNE AGAIN!!”
Reynolds: “THE HELL IS SHE DOING OUT HERE?!”
That question was answered as Marissa grabbed Angel by the foot and yanked her off of the apron, before beginning to throw sharp elbows and kicks at the woman. As Angel turned her attention on her attacker, the referee hesitantly watches the interference before looking back to the two in the ring...and signaling for the match to continue!
Hanson: “Good call, ref!”
Reynolds: “No way! That should be a disqualification! This is bullshit!”
Hanson: “What are you talking about?! We’ve got an even match now! Let’s do this!”
Reynolds: “Aw, shut up Nicky!”
Angel and Marissa took their brawl into the crowd with Eido Tanaka being left to ponder just what the hell was going on as the tag team handicap match was now a one on one between Candi Brodeur and Rosemary; both women looking rather pleased at the idea of getting to go at it for a second time...
After a chaotic 10:22, Rosemary pinned Candi Brodeur after giving her The Red Wedding.
------------------------------------------------------------
During the main event, William Mannheim wheels Rick Dickulous out onto the entrance ramp in his wheelchair, a microphone in his hand, Pitt following behind. Mannheim stops Rick top centre of the ramp and puts the brakes on the wheelchair. Rick lifts the mic to his lips
"Adam Fucking Cole....I believe you and I have a little unfinished business....seeing how I'm clearly in no condition to handle that...."
*Mannheim and Pitt run to the ring, sliding under the ropes. Pitt grabs Abaddon, trading blows back and forth before Pitt gets the upper hand and tosses him into the referee, knocking both through the ropes and out onto the arena floor. Mannheim tosses Vincent Stone violently into the turnbuckle, stunning him, before turning to Adam Cole and nearly taking his head off with a brutal clothesline. As Vincent Stone stumbles out of the corner, Mannheim scrambles to the top rope while Pitt grabs Stone and hoists him into a jackhammer position. Mannheim leaps from the top ropes and grabs Stone's ankles as Mannheim and Pitt drive him into the mat*
Ring Announcer: "OH MY GOD, STONE HAS JUST TAKEN A TRIP TO HELL!! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?"
Rick Dickulous stands up from the wheelchair and tears off his knee brace, running to the ring as the crowd goes ballistic. He slides into the ring and grabs Adam Cole, placing his arm over Vincent Stone. All three men slide out of the ring as the referee slides back into the ring counting the pinfall at 14:19.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
In the aftermath of the match, the crowd watched as Adam Cole scooped up the Silver Mountain title, laughing in disbelief as he still possessed it, given the odds.
Meanwhile, Vincent Stone recovered from the assault from Mannheim and Pitt, circling the ring in exhaustion with a growing look of frustration on his face.
Hanson: “Oh he came so close....”
Reynolds: “Close but no cigar! Adam Cole is STILL our Silver Mountain champ, bay-bay!”
Hanson: “Will you stop?”
Reynolds: “What?”
As Adam Cole pulls himself to his feet, looking to Stone, the defeated superstar stands with his back to the champ, leaning against the ropes with Rosemary silently looking on from ringside with her head tilting to the side.
While we can’t fully hear the words being spoken, it becomes crystal clear that Cole is taunting Stone about his loss; raising the title belt over his head with that cocky of smile of his. Finally, Stone pushes away from the ropes and gets right in Adam’s face. We can read the champ’s lips as he stands his ground.
“What? What?! What are you gonna do?! You can’t beat the champ, bud!” Adam shoulders the belt, giving it a couple of pats before waving at Stone to leave the ring.
Stone gives an exasperated sigh as he turns his back to Cole, seemingly about to leave. Behind him, now, Cole hoists the belt and his other hand over head, giving a loud “ADAM COLE BAY-BA—“
But he’s cut off when Stone whirls around and CLOCKS him in the jaw with an elbow, sending him to the mat.
Hanson: “WHOA! WHAT THE HELL?!”
Reynolds: “HE CAN’T DO THAT! THAT’S THE CHAMPION!”
The shocked crowd looks on as Stone mounts and begins raining fists down onto Cole’s face. At ringside, Rosemary claps ecstatically, spinning around like a deranged, excited child. After taking it to Adam Cole with his fists, Vincent Stone pulls him to his feet and runs him into the corner with an irish whip. Cole hits the corner with a violet snap of his body while Stone poises in the corner, looking across the ring with a rage filled look in his eyes.
Hanson: “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
Reynolds: “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! ADAM GET OUT OF THERE!”
Adam Cole was actually helpless, at this point though, as Stone darted across the ring and hit him with the Bootscraper, causing him to slump down in the corner. Stone was quickly back to his feet then, looking down at Cole...fuming. He completely ignores the ref, then, as he seems to remember something. Looking back he sees the handcuffs that he reluctantly carried to the ring with him, now being twirled on the index finger of Rosemary with an ‘innocent’ smile on her face.
Hanson: “What’s he doing now?”
Hanson asks, as Stone leaves Cole in the corner, exiting the ring, gets right in Rosemary’s face...and snatches the handcuffs right off of her finger.
Hanson: “Aw no, c’mon Stone! Don’t do it! This is what she wants!”
But, of course, Stone can’t hear the announce team as he slides back into the ring and tosses the referee through the ropes before going back over to Adam Cole and handcuffing one if his wrists to the middle turnbuckle. With the Silver Mountain champion now restrained to the corner, Stone begins raining down a series of vicious stomps, stopping only to trade them out for a series of violent knees into Cole’s head. The assault only stops, finally when a team of referees manage to pull him away. Only then does he exit the ring and begin departing up the ramp to a mixture of boos and concerned calls from the crowd.
As Stone reaches the stage, he is joined by Rosemary, grinning wide under her face paint. Then, perhaps to the horror of all watching, Stone drops to his knees before the Demon Assassin and opens out his arms, as we faintly hear him calling up to her.
“Do it...DO IT!!!!”
Reynolds: “Do what?! What the hell is he talking about?!”
Hanson: “I have a bad feeling about this....”
Gleefully, Rosemary takes Stone’s head into her hands, going so far as to pet one side of his face as she smiles upwards...and then sprays her patented yellow mist from her mouth directly into Stone’s face. The man immediately pulls away from her, bringing his hands to his face with audible screaming. Surprisingly then, Rosemary goes to his side like a mother to her troubled child and hastily helps him to his feet. The eerie woman waving away the team of medics that appear to try and tend to the man as Rosemary walks Vincent Stone behind the curtain to the backstage area as the shot fades out
“You forget how to knock?” She asks with a wry smile as Vincent Stone steps into frame with his hands held up in submission.
“Hey...it’s me!” Stone remarks, impersonating a rather infamous character from cinema history.
Erin cracks a smirk, nodding. “Nice.” She says, breaking into a giggle as she and her friend and mentor share a fist bump. “Anyway, what’s up?”
Stone shrugs. “I just wanted to come check up on my best friend and make sure you’re all set for your match.”
Erin raises an eyebrow at the man. “What kind of question is that? I’m always ready. Are *you* ready for yours? Mr. Challenger for the Silver Mountain Championship!” She gives a playful shove to his arm.
Stone laughs. “Aren’t I always? I know I’d have better odds in a one on one against Adam Cole, but the way I look at it? I get to win some gold—“
“You mean silver?” Erin teases.
Stone rolls his eyes. “Excuse me - smartass - silver...and I get to get my hands on Abaddon again.”
Erin smiles, nodding, before she turns serious again. “Speaking of that...is Rosemary giving you any flack still?”
Stone sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Isn’t she always? I’m used to hearing it and brushing it off, at this point. She even came to me again earlier. Buuut, at least something neat came out of it.”
“What...?” Erin asks, hesitantly before Stone reaches behind him and pulls something from under his shirt, tucked into his jeans.
“BAM!” He flips out a rolled up t-shirt, unrolling it to reveal a garment with the words ‘ERIN MERCER’ in jagged red letters with a black and white stencil of her and her fists raised. Her hair on the shirt, however is a deep crimson with the words ‘RED DEATH’ underneath. “Check this out!”
Erin’s demeanor suddenly turns giddy as her eyes go wide and she squeals excitedly. “Eeeeeee! Oh my god! That is so cool! They made merchandise already?!”
Stone nods. “Yup!” He hands it to her. “I thought you’d like to promo it to the fans. Wear it out to the ring tonight. Little girls will be begging their parents for one!”
Erin takes it, smiling happily as she looks over the design and brings it to her chest. “Vin, thank you!” She gives him a sudden hug around the neck. Stone hugs her back, patting her shoulder. “I told you we’d make it big, didn’t I? And don’t say you wouldn’t be here without me!” He stops her as her mouth opens, pointing at her. “You got here yourself. They noticed you. And you’ve been drawing a bigger crowd week after week. After tonight? You’re gonna make headlines.”
Erin looks up and moves her hand like she’s drawing out a news headline. “Erin Mercer scores her first N*FW victory. Defeats Shelley Silver!”
“That’s right, girl!” Stone high fives her. “I’ll be watching from back here. Kick some ass! We’re gonna have a couple of brews after tonight!”
“Sounds good! And you can bet your ass, I will!” Erin pulls her shirt on and holds out her arms. “How do I look?”
Stone nods. “Like the kids say today, shit’s fire!” He does a mocking snap of his fingers. Erin busts out laughing. “You fucking dork! Hey, wish me luck out there. That’s a huge bitch I’m up against.” Stone shakes his head. “You’re gonna do fine. Remember your match with Awesome Kong?” Erin cringes. “Don’t remind me.”
“But you won, right? You can do this.” Vincent Stone holds up a fist. “I believe in you.”
“I believe in you, Peter.” Erin says in a childish voice and returns the fist bump as Stone rolls his eyes and playfully shoves her, getting her heading out the door. “Shut up and get out there!” He laughs, watching her go before shaking his head and stepping off frame himself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shelley Silver defeated Erin Mercer by pinfall in 15:06 after giving her a Samoan driver she calls Sundown. Despite the size and strength difference, Mercer hard to keep down, no matter how much punishment Silver dished out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Steven Brody sits behind his desk, shuffling through papers. He slides a few into the bottom slot of a desk organizer, and the rest in the top. His desk phone blinks, and an electronic version of "Ode To Joy" fills the room. He reaches over and lifts the reciever, the tone abruptly ends.*
"Steven Brody, what can I do for you?"
*A muffled voice can be heard, but is indistinguishable.*
"Ok, so, I can have paperwork sent to your email address, and we can sit down and talk turkey after you look it over."
*The voice again can be heard from the handset.*
"Of course there's a medical, and then we'd have to go through creative - I'm not going to lie, it could take awhile. If you're willing to wait, I'm sure we can find a place on the roster - we can always use more talent, especially yours."
*More muffled sounds from the handset speaker.*
"As long as you're sure you can handle the workload, I'll make sure to put in a good word."
"Ok? Perfect. Thank you too. Have a great day."
*Steven Brody reaches over and hangs up the phone. He brings his hand to his forehead, cradling it in his fingertips.*
"Oh, this is going to be interesting."
------------------------------------------------------------
Nico Salvatore defeated Shelton Benjamin by pinfall in 16:22 after countering a superkick attempt and hitting him with To The Gods.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The camera opens on a close up of a photo of Morgan Payne, pinned to a wall. The kanji for ‘shin’ is written across it in black ink. As the shot pans back, we see the wall with the entire women’s roster on it. Unlike Morgan’s photo, they are left unmarked. A moment later, we hear a woman’s voice, speaking slow and cool. While the language is in Japanese, subtitles serve to translate for viewers.
“Vengeance.... Is that what lies in your heart...Marissa Payne?” As we pan further back, we see that the wall of photos is inside a traditional styled Japanese home. It looks to be a sort of training room. A personal dojo of sorts. “Is it vengeance for your comrade that you hope to achieve?”
A sudden flash on the screen brings us back to the previous week. The match between Angel and Morgan Payne. Filtered in grainy, black and white, we see the moment that Morgan Payne was injured from the enziguri while on the top turnbuckle. The woman’s voice continues on as a voice over. “She knew, very well, what the consequences were. Or...perhaps she didn’t....”
Another cut shows a grainy, black and white recap of Morgan and Marissa discussing that very match in the gym. Editing brings us a close up on Morgan’s almost smug smirking face. “Like you...she underestimated her opponent. She underestimated...me.”
The shot cuts to a close up of Angel’s cold stare as she watches, from the ramp, as the EMTs tend to Morgan. “Now there is you...Marissa-san....” Cutting back to the Japanese home, we pan back further until the shoulder of a figure in a black and purple robe comes into view, kneeling in a meditative state. “You...as well as her...are a but obstacles in my way to something greater. A prize held by a creature....” The camera flashes and we see that same grainy, black and white filter over a short compilation of shots, showing the destruction wrought by the Women’s Champion, Apocalypta. The shot ends with the champ standing victoriously at the end of the battle royale, holding the title up high.
“All of you...are but stepping stones...to my glory.”
Another quick series of clips shows Angel’s stiff, vicious offense in the ring from past opponents - even before coming to N*FW. The camera cuts back to the shot in the home, panning over Angel until she comes into view fully on the side of the screen.
“Morrigan’ was the first....”
The pan stops and focuses on Angel’s face under her hood before she slowly lifts her head and opens her eyes. Special effects causing their blue color to glow eerily in the dim light.
“Marissa-san.... You....”
She smiles eerily, lifting a photo of Marissa up in front of the camera with a black circle drawn around it.
“...Are next....”
Cut to black
-------------------------------------------------
Marissa Payne defeated Kid Cthulu by referee stoppage in 7:32 after connecting with a roundhouse kick to the jaw, and then continuing to throw kicks at Cthulu's head even once the girl fell to the mat.
After the match, Marissa called for the mic, not even paying any mind to her opponent being stretchered from the ring.
"ANGEL! If last week wasn't enough of a hint for you... here's something more upfront: You're on borrowed time, bitch. I don't care how scary you act, or how hard you work at being creepy... you do NOT scare me. And hey... I know accidents happen. I'm not mad because you hurt Morgan. I'm mad because you injured my best fucking friend and then gloated about it like it was some badge of honor. You think you know fear, little girl? You don't. But when I get my hands on you? Trust me.... you will."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Before the bell could ring for Steele & Law vs Shields & Shade, I Prevail’s “Come and Get It” came blasting on throughout the arena as Nico Salvatore appeared on stage. Dressed more casually and ‘less flashy’ (in other words, wearing jeans, sneakers and a grey V-neck t-shirt under an open black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows), Nico makes his way down the ramp and around the ring to join Mike Hanson and James Reynolds on commentary.
Reynolds: “Well, hey Nico! Came to hang out with us and get the beat seat for the action, huh?”
Nico: “Hell, why not? Youse don’t mind do ya?”
Reynolds: “Not at all! Welcome! Nicky, we got Nico with us! This is great!”
As the bell finally rings and the match starts, commentary continues.
Nico: “You don’t look very happy to see me out here, Nick. There a problem?”
Reynolds: “Yeah, is there a problem, Nick?”
Hanson: “I just have to wonder what it is that brings you out here, exactly. Excuse me if I’m a little skeptical.”
Nico: “What do ya mean ‘what brings me out here’? I’m watching a tag team match!”
Reynolds: “Quit being such a dick, Nick! Hey, that rhymes. Hahaha!”
A brief cut to the commentary table shows the three sitting with Nick Hanson stuck in between Nico and James Reynolds. The man has a look on his face like he’d rather be elsewhere. He turns to Nico then who sits leans back in his chair, focusing on the match.
Hanson: “And this has nothing to do, whatsoever, with the fact that Tyson Law is in this match? You know: the one you openly called out?”
Nico cracks a grin, turning from the match towards Nick Hanson.
Nico: “Well ain’t you a smart one? Of course it does. I laid out a challenge to the guy, I wanna see what I’m up against.”
Hanson: “You saw what you were up against when you debuted against him, didn’t you?”
Nico: *rolling his eyes* “You’re not a fighter, are you Nick? Don’t answer that. Let me drop som knowledge on you. Jimmy probably already knows this. You know the best way to assure victory? It’s to study your enemy. Learn their tactics. ‘If you know the enemy, and know yourself, you need not fear the outcome of a hundred battles.’”
Reynolds: “Hey! That’s the Art of War, right?”
Nico: “My man!”
Nico reaches across Nick Hanson and fist bumps James Reynolds before the camera cuts back to the action in the ring.
Hanson: “So, you’re here to ‘study’ Law. Is that all?”
Reynolds: “Nicky, did you just make a pun?”
Hanson: “Oh, shuuut uuup!”
Nico laughs at Hanson’s annoyance.
Nico: “Yeah, I’m here to study my opponent. You know why? Because I respect my opponent. I’m here to let him know that I take him seriously and I look forward to our match. Something that can’t be said about everyone I face.”
Reynolds: “They don’t call him the gladiator for nothing, Nicky!”
Hanson: “Can it, Jim.”
Reynolds: “Fuck you, Nicky.”
Hanson: “Okay, and what about the other superstars in this match? Do you have any insight on them? In fact, I have to wonder about your thoughts on your match tonight, against Shelton Benjamin. Since you talk about knowing your opponent. Shouldn’t you be focused on him, instead?”
Nico: “I’m not worried about Shelton Benjamin. Why should I be? He’s predictable and he’s old news. He’s only an object in my way towards what I’m aiming for. As for these guys? Can’t say much about Satoru Shade. I’ve heard his name but before he came here, I never really paid attention. Steele? We used to work in a fed together but never really crossed paths. Would you believe I’ve been in the ring with Colt Shields, though?”
Hanson: “Is that so?”
Nico: “Oh yeah! We had some battles, I’ll tell ya. Doesn’t change my opinion about him, though. I’m surprised Fucktardo, there, hasn’t tried to come at me yet.”
Reynolds can be heard snickering as Hanson takes a moment to try and call some actual action.
Hanson: “What the hell is wrong with you, now?”
Reynolds: “He called him Fucktardo! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Reynolds can be heard falling out of his chair as his headset comes off. While Nico and Nick Hanson call the match, Reynolds can be heard cackling in the background - his stray headset picking his voice up.
Hanson: “Jim! Will you compose yourself and come do your damn job?”
Reynolds, in the background: “AAAAAAGGHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Hanson: “Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize. I guess I’m on my own here until my colleague calms down.
Nico: “Nah, you’re not alone, Nicky. Ya got me here. C’mon lets call a match."
----------------------------------------------------------------
Law & Steele defeated Shields and Shade by pinfall in 11:28 when Law hit Shields with a popup powerbomb, followed by Steele hitting a frog splash for the win.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hanson: “What an impressive victory, tonight, for Tyson Law and Ryan Steele. JIM! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”
In the background still, we hear James Reynolds dying from laughter.
Hanson: “Hopefully, he’ll compose himself here, soon. Where are you going?”
Nico: “Match is over, Nicky. I’m almost done here, but I got one more thing to do. ‘Scuse me.”
We hear Nico pull his headset off seconds before seeing him climb up onto the apron and enter the ring just as Tyson Law is following Ryan Steele out on the other side. A yell from Nico catches Law’s attention. The man looking almost skeptical at the guest commentator’s appearance. Regardless, Nico applauds Tyson, nodding in approval and clearly commending him on a well fought match.
Walking to the center of the ring, Nico sticks out his hand in an offer to shake Tyson’s. Tyson comes to stand with him in the center of the ring. After a moment of hesitation and reassurance from Nico, the man accepts the handshake. Nico shakes Tyson’s hand before adjusting his grip on the man’s wrist and raises his arm up, pointing at him with his other hand to the crowd.
Hanson: “Are you finally, done?”
Reynolds: “Ugh...yeah. God, that was funny. What’d I miss?”
Hanson: “Three fourths of the damn match! But we got a show of respect from Nico Salvatore, here, at least. WAIT, NO! C’MON!!”
As Tyson Law goes to finally leave the ring, Nico spins him around and nails him with a low blow kick before setting him up under his legs. To the boos of the crowd, Nico makes a quick gesture with a sideways thumb turning down - similar to how a Roman Emperor would do to give a gladiator the order to kill - and hoists Tyson Law up onto the back of his shoulders, driving him down with the To The Gods crucifix bomb.
Afterwards, Nico stood over Tyson, with a sly grin before finally leaving the ring and exiting through the crowd.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Backstage, we see Vincent Stone leaning against the concession table, looking down at his phone in his hand. Whatever he’s looking at has him laughing hysterically.
A stagehand comes walking towards the man with the Hands of Stone pushing a laundry cart, that appears to be full of shirts and stops, looking up at him like “ I don’t know man” and shrugs and walks off.
When he looks at the cart he will see a note saying, “You should try and sell these” in scribbled crayon.
Picking up the note, Stone’s expression turns to one of curiosity...and confusion...as he reads the scribbled words before reaching into the cart of t-shirts and pulls one out. He unfolds it to look at the t-shirt design.
As he is looking at the t-shirt design, Rosemary springs from the cart, showering him in t-shirts, beer cozy’s and posters, as they hit him and all fall to the ground “Hi Stoney, how are you, nevermind we don’t really care”. She is wearing a new t-shirt with her on one side and him on the other with the words Odd Couple in yellow surrounded by a red outline.
Immediately after she shows up on the camera it goes to static, you see the words Hands of Decay on the screen and the camera returns to normal and she is still there looking over her left shoulder at him, her painted on smile making the whole moment creepily alluring.
She gets out of the cart and sits down next to him. “What are we laughing at?”
Stone literally jumps out of being startled as he is bombarded with merchandise. When the rain of items ceases, the man uncovers his face from a t-shirt and tosses it back into the laundry cart. He sets his phone aside and hops off of the table, moving to get a closer look at the bushel of goodies. “Rosemary…?” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he turns back around to face her, thumbing over his shoulder. “What the hell is all this?”
“Rude, oh well” She gets down from where she was sitting next to him and walks over and shows him her new shirt “ Merchandise silly, We figured what better way to cut a promo this week than sell some stuff as well.. Right? I mean it made sense to us”?
Vincent Stone looks at her t-shirt with a confused frown before picking up a coozie. “Merchandise?” He looks up from the coozie and back to her again. “Rosemary...you are taking this ‘alliance’ of ours a little too far. It’s not like we’re a permanent fixture in this industry. When the hell did you make all of this? Matter of fact, who did you go to to have this stuff made?” He looks at her, waiting for an answer, doubtful that she actually made it herself.
“Blame marketing, we didn’t do any of this. We are fond of our new shirt though.. And the new hoodie… oh did you see the new hoodie?”
She rummages around in the cart for a few moments and pulls out a grey hoodie and shows him the back of it. Emblazoned on the back is a picture of him and the words “ Hands of Stone” with the word Stone having the word Decay written over it in green. “Like we said blame marketing. “
Tossing the hoodie over his face and begins to rummage again in the cart “ This is not just about us though.. We have the whole roster in here, we think” Pulling out an Erin Mercer shirt and looking at it for a moment, than shaking her head and tossing it over her shoulder, “Still have no clue who that is.” Back to rummaging she goes and pulls out a new hoodie for Angel. Done in black and has pictures of Angel and her Manager together, she looks on in disgust” AngelDu-- we mean Dust is a better wrestler --- “. Looking up at him, and then down at the pile of stuff and back up at him.
“Stoney, want to help us?”
“No!” Stone almost snaps, yanking the hoodie off of his face and waves his hands, stopping them out to the sides. “I told you: this isn’t a permanent gig! We’re not even allies. We’re partners for a little while. We’re not a team. We’re not a unit. We sure as hell aren’t friends!” He picks up the Erin Mercer t-shirt and holds it up. “And by the way? THIS is my friend. A good friend. You might get a little less animosity from me if you started showing a little more respect towards her, and—-“ Something in the cart catches his eye and Stone picks out a little wrestling plush of himself wearing a Hands of Decay t-shirt with his face painted up in black, white and green. He blinks and looks at Rosemary again. “Are you fucking serious…?”
She shrugs “Marketing sees a good thing, we think it looks good on you. As far as, whoever is on that shirt… when she becomes relevant to us, we’ll pay attention until then we have a knock off to kill and a pez dispenser to set on fire. “ She grabs the t-shirt with Erin Mercer from his hands and tosses it far away. “Who are you wrestling again this week?”
Stone rolls his eyes and sighs as he watched Rosemary toss the shirt away. “...I’m in the triple threat for the Silver Mountain championship. Do you even read the card or just glance at your own match and blank out the rest?”
“Not exactly, we have a lot on our plat here and … elsewhere. “ She smiles at him. “Are you willing to go as far as necessary to get the win? Because we don’t believe you. We gave you Adam Cole on a platter, you failed to capitalize. We want you to gain gold.. But we know the only way you get there is to release your anguish on the enemy and finish them. So are you up to the task?
Stone closes his eyes in frustration. “Rosemary, you’re beating a dead horse...not literally, thankfully...but you know what I mean.” He lets out an exasperated huff. “I will do whatever it takes to win. So long as it’s done clean. You hear me? *Clean*! Because I know I can do it that way. I don’t need to ‘release my anguish’ or ‘look into the darkness of my soul’ or whatever to do this. In case you hadn’t realized, we’re working together to stop a bunch of nutjobs who do just that. I’m a wrestler. Not a maniac. So again; let me do this. You? Stay out of it.”
“The problem is, we have stayed out of it. Look where that has gotten you. There is a saying fight fire with fire, you just aren’t doing it. “ Getting uncomfortably close to the mans face as he bends backwards just a little. “ I will deal with the fallen angel, the knock off and my favourite little pez dispenser, then I will be at your side during the match. This little puppy dog will show you, one final time, what is necessary to deal with madmen, we can only show you the dark path so often, the door is closing, step through to the other side. “
She pantomimes the licking of the mans face and slams the handcuffs into his outstretched hand, and walks off.
As she turns to go, the camera goes static again and rather than showing you the Hands of Decay in green it shows you Rosemary’s Hands in red, dripping like blood and the camera returns to Vincent Stone, standing there handcuffs in hand, watching her leave as the shot fades out.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Lara Blackheart defeated Mia Hayashi by disqualification when, as Lara was angrily taunting Mia to get up for the Blackheart Blitz, out of the crowd came APOCALYPTA! Sliding into the ring and quickly hopping to her feet, the female monster of the Circle of Snakes shot across the ring with that impressive speed and proverbially broke the second generation superstar in half with her vicious spear known as the MOAB.
Even as the bell was rung by the referee, Apocalypta stood menacingly over Lara as Mia climbed to her feet and came to lean over her former friend, taunting slapping and kicking at her.
Meanwhile, Apocalypta exited the ring and began digging under the apron.
Hanson: “C’mon, the match is over! There’s no need for this!”
Reynolds: “Even I gotta agree, Nicky. This is two on one. Someone get out here!”
Hanson: “What the hell is Apocalypta doing? What is she—aww no! No!”
A unanimous boo came from the crowd as Apocalypta pulled a table from under the ring and slid it in under the bottom rope. She re-enters the ring as Mia viciously kicks at the grounded Lara. She even begins cheering as Apocalypta quickly sets the table up. The intimidating woman then pushes Mia out of the way with one hand before pulling Lara to her feet by the hair. Barely able to stand, Lara is lifted into a vertical suplex position by Apocalypta before the Women’s Champion drops her into position and drives her through the table with the Ground Zero!
Hanson: “NO! NO! GODDAMN IT!”
Apocalypta climbs to her feet then, standing menacingly over Lara for a moment before looking to Mia. The latter grinning big and nodding as she offers a fist bump only for Apocalypta to turn away and leave the ring. Mia makes a hasty advance after her, following close behind as Apocalypta takes her leave of the ringside area from around the ramp and stage, never even looking back at the ring as Shelley Silver runs to the ring to help Laura..
-------------------------------------------------------
*Rick Dickulous' locker room door fills the screen. A hand extends from the bottom right corner of the screen and knocks on the door. Cursing and clattering can be heard from behind the door, suddenly it opens to reveal Rick Dickulous sitting in a wheelchair, smiling*
"Hey, cameraperson! Long see no time, *hic* eh?"
*The cameraman's voice seems to come from nowhere*
"Uhhh, Rick? Are you drunk? And, what was all that crashing?"
"Oh, yeah, *hic*, that. I'm tryin ta see why MADD is so against drinked driving....err..drive drinking....*hic*...I mean, drunk driving."
*Rick drunkenly motions the cameraman into the dressing room as he wheels himself in. The camera follows, showing Rick bouncing off a wall before swinging violently aroumd a corner, giggling. He disappears, the camera walks down the hall and swings around to show Rick sprawled out on the floor, his right knee in a heavy brace*
"I think I know why they're against it, but I could be *hic* wrong. Right now the room is spinning like a dryer with a brick in it, guy! I'm totally pissed!"
*Rick rolls himself over, and clumsily tries to pull himself back into the wheelchair. It rolls backwards, the cameraman reaches forward and puts on the nearest brake, reaching over to engage the second. Rick crawls into the chair and sighs*
"I gotta stop drinking..."
*The camera pans over to show beer cans and liquor bottles haphazardly scattered around, various takeout containers also cover a table*
"Uhhh, how much have you had, Rick?"
"Loooots, buddy! Like, I had a two-four, Willy, Pitt, *hic* and I polished that off. Then there was a twenty-sixer of Captain Morgan I had to myself. Then *hic* I got into the forty pounder of Canadian Club, and then I ate some motherfuckin' donairs! I was just givin'er! Hey, friend, I never asked you what your name is....I mean, you're an honourary Canadian, I like to keep on a first name basis with my fellow Canucks..."
"M-my name is Cameron. You're the first person here to actually ask that, ya know? Nobody cares ab--"
*Rick puts his finger to Cameron's lips*
"Shhhhh!! Take off, eh?! You're a cameraperson named Cam? I can't *hic* write this shit! This is hooped!"
*Cameron pushes Rick's hand away and shakes his head*
"You're not the first one to make that joke. Just throwin' that out there. So, two questions for you....one, where is the interviewer? Two, where are Willy and Pitt?"
*Rick smacks himself in the forehead*
"Shit. Don couldn't *hic* make it tonight, he said something about playoffs starting and was all excited about *hic* Boston. Looks like it's just us. Willy and Pitt are off looking for a cover for our chesterfield."
*Rick points at the couch*
"I asked them to pick up some brown bread, freezies, and *hic* some chocolate bars, but I don't know when they'll be back. This is what *hic* happens when I get a night off. It's piss up and shit food night, eh?"
"I'm surprised you're not making out with Anne Murray, Rick. I'd figure you'd be taking advantage of the night off."
*Rick chuckles*
"Cam, my boy, every day is Anne Murray day."
*Rick shakes his head quickly from side to side with his eyes closed tightly. He stops shaking his head and opens his eyes, and suddenly seems sober*
"What I really wanted to talk about, guy, is Adam Fucking Cole, and my ending up in this contraption."
"Yeah, I should've probably asked you awhile ago how bad your injury is. See, this is why I'm a cameraman."
"Who cares about that? You should've seen the nurses! Oh, Cam...I got extra sponge baths. They liked what's under my kilt....and I certainly liked what was under theirs...if ya know what I mean? Because if ya don't, they had very tasty pie, eh? Ya get me?"
*Cameron sighs*
"Yes....I got you. I didn't need the extra description."
"Here's how I see it, Cam. Adam Fucking Cole is simply keeping my belt warm for me. I want to thank him in advance. He won it by sheer luck, and he *Rick makes finger quotes* TECHNICALLY beat me last week - but, did he really?"
"Well, uhhh, he IS still the champion, so I'm gonna say he did...but, what's your take on it?"
*Rick smiles*
"Cam, there's hope for you as an interviewer yet, eh? I was unconscious, and everyone knows you stop the match when that happens, guy. So, by the rules, I didn't lose...the match was a no contest. So, since our match hasn't ended yet....."
"But, Rick, the match is already done. It's in the books."
"Well, friend, my book is the only one that counts. Here it is, plain and simple: I WILL make Adam Fucking Cole collect pogey. When I take the Silver Mountain Championship from him - and believe me, it WILL be me who takes it from him - he will need months to recover, not a day, not a week...no, it's time to drop the gloves for real. Sorry, not sorry!"
*Rick wheels back from the table*
"Now, Cam-guy, shut that camera off and let's go burn Anne Murray's bush!"
----------------------------------------------------------
Cutting to a darkened room in the backstage area, the camera focuses on a live coral snake slithering around a woman’s tattooed arm with the hand wrapped in fighter’s tape marked with a red pentagram. Panning back, we see that the handler is none other than Apocalypta. We pan back enough to see that she’s standing beside a table with a glass pen on it; a small white dove moving about nervously in it’s confinement.
“Are you paying attention, Angel?” She asks, carefully stroking the snake under it’s jaw as she keeps a safe hold on it. “I certainly hope so. I hope all of you are...all who are fated to meet with us of the Circle of Snakes on this night.... The Commissioner can book whatever match he wants. It doesn’t matter. If I have to play his little game and cooperate with another lamb to the slaughter. I’ll do it. If I have to go through a little girl with identity issues...I’ll do it.” She looks at the camera. “But my sights are on you. They always have been. And once you’re in my crosshairs...there is no escape....”
"Patience, dear Apocalypta." Came the deep, sullen voice of Abaddon. He walked in, slowly holding his arms out as he turned his gaze skyward. "The sky shall open... as angels fall. And this fallen angel shall be put to sacrifice, in the name of The Circle of Snakes. Despite what she thinks... none can match your pure strength and savagery in that ring. And none will tear that championship from your grasp. It is yours... for as long as you want it."
“Angel...an angel in name, merely.” Apocalypta says as she gently pets the venomous reptile coiled contently around her wrist. “But no more than a little dove when she sets foot into the serpent’s den. She’s nothing more than prey for the predator.” Here, she opens a small latch in the roof of the pen and lowers her hand down into it. As the dove backs into a corner, beginning to make nervous coos, the coral snake slithers gracefully from Apocalypta’s hand and down into it’s enclosure. Apocalypta shuts the lid as the snake starts to slowly slither around the pen at first. Each time it gets closer to the dove, at first the bird hops and flutters out of the way, trying to avoid danger.
From behind the glass contraption, she picks up the N*FW Women’s Championship and holds it up beside her. “This prize...belongs to the Circle of Snakes. It belongs to me. The rats...would do well to concern themselves with self preservation...rather than try to reach the top of the food chain. Tonight, I’ll be making a statement...just to prove my point.”
"Your accomplishment... being the first of The Circle to win a championship.... will be rewarded. We will see to it that this pretender never comes CLOSE to taking that title from you. She will find that she knows nothing about pain and suffering." Abaddon gave a sick grin, crossing his arms over his chest. "But she will learn. Oh, yes. She will indeed learn."
Apocalypta bows her head at Abaddon’s gracious commendation. “And after tonight...” She looks back up at Abaddon, speaking of him in the third person. “...our master stakes his own claim. A true angel...the Angel of Death...soars to the peak of the Silver Mountain...and reigns fire and destruction down on the unworthy!”
Finally, Apocalypta turns her attention back to the snake pen, hanging her title over her shoulder as she kneels down behind it to watch the events unfold. The camera, meanwhile, closes in on the other side and we see Apocalypta’s void white eyes watching intently. “It doesn’t matter who they are...or where they come from...when the snake strikes...there is no escape....” We see from the camera’s perspective as the coral snake finally lashes out and catches the young dove with it’s jaws, coiling around it in a vice like grip. Apocalypta watches, emotionlessly as the snake constricts around it’s prey until the frantic cooing stops.
------------------------------------------------------------
In an absolute crushing, Belphegor defeated Scott Leroux by pinfall in 1:42 to win the TV Title after spearing him and then destroying him with a jackhammer called The Ninth Circle.
----------------------------------------------------------
The tag team match between The Rebel Rousers and GreyWolf ended in a no contest.
As Chris Wolfe and Chase Evans were battling it out in the ring. The fans looked on as two figures in all black clothing with hoods hopped over the barricade.
Nick Hanson: “Hey, wait a minute; what the hell?”
James Reynolds: “Who the fuck are these guys?”
The two men in hoods immediately rushed over behind where Tyler Grey was standing on the apron; one of them grabbing his foot and yanking him down off of the apron. While Grey managed to land skillfully on his feet, he was floored a second after by a sudden superkick from the second hooded man. The resounding ‘SMACK’ of a foot across Grey’s jaw earning a loud “OHHHHH” from the crowd.
Reynolds: “GODDAMN! Did you hear that Nick?!”
Hanson: “I did, but what the hell is going on?!”
Meanwhile, the one to pull Grey off of the apron slid into the ring under the bottom rope and hopped to his feet just as Chris Wolfe was coming off of the ropes for what was likely aimed to be a running attack to a grounded Chase Evans. A second superkick stopped him immediately in his tracks though before the second hooded man joined his comrade in the ring.
Hanson: “And a superkick to Chris Wolfe! Jim, what the hell, man?!”
Teddy Morse entered the ring in a hurry to help his partner up and the Rebel Rousers stood just feet apart from the hooded men interrupting the match. The latter, at first, ignored the referee’s urgent demand that they leave the ring. Meanwhile, Morse and Evans - clearly having no idea what was going on - stood with their hands in a mutually confused, low shrug. We can see Morse mouthing ‘who the hell are y’all?’
Slowly, both hooded men reach up and unzip their hoodies. The first hint of their identity we see is a familiar skull and cross guns logo with an equally familiar name.
Reynolds: “Whaaaat the fuuuuck?!”
Hanson: “Wait...wha—...Bullet Club?!”
Together, both men in the Bullet Club t-shirts suddenly yank back their hoods to reveal the grinning faces of....
Hanson: “OH MY GOD!!! IT’S NICK AND MATT JACKSON!! IT’S THE YOUNG BUCKS!!”
Reynolds: “THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE?!”
Morse and Evans look equally confused by the sudden reveal. They only have a second to process what’s going on before Nick Jackson looks to his brother and holds up three fingers to his brother, Matt, with a suggestive look on his face. Nodding, Matt returns the gesture and the two of them suddenly lash out with a DOUBLE SUPERKICK to the Rebel Rousers.
This puts the referee into a fit of annoyance as he starts yelling even louder at the Young Bucks from behind. Nick and Matt turn to look at the ref. They exchange glances with each other - ‘this guy’ - and deliver another double superkick to the referee!
Hanson: “THEY JUST SUPERKICKED THE REFEREE!”
Reynolds: “THAT WAS AWESOME!!”
Hanson: “THEY CAN’T DO THAT!!
Reynolds: “WHO CARES?! HAHAHAHA!!”
Hanson: “WE NEED SECURITY OUT HERE! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”
Security does indeed begin to rush to the ring. However, officer that enters the ring is viciously superkicked right back out. What quickly becomes evident as an infamous Young Bucks Superkick Party, results in half a dozen security staff being taken out as well as several other referees. Eventually, Nick and Matt take the ‘party’ to the outside of the ring, superkicking anyone in their path. More referees. More security. The bell keeper. When it looks like they’re about to even turn their violence on the terrified ring announcer, Nick Hanson jumps to his feet.
Hanson: “DON’T YOU DARE! DON’T-YOU-FUCKING-DARE!”
Hanson is given a double superkick by Nick Jackson for his efforts. Meanwhile, Matt has made his way leisurely around to Reynolds’ side. Reynolds, however, has also stood up, laughing hysterically.
Reynolds: “HAHAHAHAHA! HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS AWESOME!”
But he’s given the next superkick by Matt, knocking his headset right off as he drops.
Finally, the aftermath of carnage at ringside, the Young Bucks grab a single microphone and slide back into the ring. Facing each other, they exchange mock looks of surprise at what has transpired by their own doing. Then, whether it’s meant as a tribute or a mockery of the NWO, the brothers point towards the stage with one arm arched over their heads.
And right on cue, the lights around the stage dim as the familiar theme song, Devil’s Sky suddenly kicks on over the speakers. A mixture of cheers and boos resonates throughout the audience as THE CLEANER, KENNY OMEGA, comes walking out on stage. Dressed in all black, jeans boots, a leather jacket and one of his own t-shirts, Kenny Omega looks around him at the crowd through a pair of sunglasses before beginning a casual walk down towards the ring.
As he reaches ringside, the Young Bucks sit on the second rope, lifting the top one for him and he enters the ring smoothly, taking the microphone from them at the same time while coming to stand dead center in it. Nick and Matt flank him. Looking down, Kenny removes his sunglasses and lifts his head with a wicked smile. He tucks the sunglasses into his jacket and raises the mic to speak as his music fades out.
“You people.... Tell the truth, now. You people didn’t, honestly, think that you weren’t gonna see these two, did you?”
He gestures to either side with a finger to the Bucks.
“You people didn’t honestly think that you weren’t going to see *me*, did you?”
He thumbs to himself, before turning in a circle, addressing the entire crowd.
“You people...didn’t honestly think...that you weren’t going to see US...did you?!”
“Hahahahahahahaha.” With his trademark, wicked laugh, Kenny Omega nods slowly. “You knew this was coming...you KNEW! I’m sure most of you - those who fancy themselves as ‘hardcore wrestling fans’....” He makes quotation marks with his free hand. “...took a wild guess that after last week, something - SOMETHING - was going to happen. Well guess what? Congratulations! For once, you were able to predict something for once while sitting on your asses at home, just WAITING to see if your prediction came to light!”
He pauses, taking a gander at the crowd. An audible chant of ‘The...Elite! The-The Elite!’ flowing through the fans. “Shut up. SHUT...UP!” Kenny points as he turns. “I don’t wanna hear it! We don’t need your support. That’s not why we came here. You see, it hasn’t escaped me how you rooted for a couple of painted up motherfuckers who took it to two of our boys last week. So don’t suddenly act like you’re ‘excited’ to see us. Don’t act like we’re gonna retweet your ‘marking out’ of this moment. Because we’re not. You see, we’re not here for you. We’re not here to show support for whatever it is that New Japan Pro Wrestling and your ‘New Frontier’ have going on together. Frankly, this business partnership idea can go straight to hell.”
Kenny pauses again and grins wickedly. “You see, we didn’t come here to share ideas. We didn’t come here to trade talent. We didn’t come here to inter-promote. No...we came here...to shut-this-place-DOWN!” He gestures with a finger violently pointing downward. “We’re here to send the New Frontier a message that there is only one *true* wrestling company worth it’s weight in the world. And if we have to claim every one of your little championships to do so? Oh yeah, you can bet your sorry asses that we’re gonna do JUST THAT! We don’t care about the mediocre titles. Your TV championship, your ‘Silver Mountain’ championship - which has a stupid fucking name anyway - no, we’re going to take your most prestigious prizes and leave your second rate roster with-absolutely-nothing. When your tag team championships come up for grabs? These guys—“ He thumbs over to Nick and Matt, “—are gonna be there. You guys are gonna have an intercontinental title come into the mix? Mark my words: the Bullet Club-will-be there. And oh yeah, when your grandest prize of them all-because I know it’s coming, and *you all* know it’s coming-the world championship comes up for grabs? You can be DAMN SURE that *I* will be there! And when the dust settles...when this war is over - because a declaration of war is EXACTLY what this is - New Frontier Wrestling will be a smoldering pile of wreckage with the skull and guns flag flying high over head so that all of you never forget who was responsible for bringing it down! Because WE are the best! WE are the greatest talents to ever step into a wrestling ring. WE are the Bullet Club and we RULE the wrestling world. So on that note, and until further notice, GOOD-BYE....”
Kenny brings up his finger, pointed like a gun and kisses it. “MwwWAH! And good...NIGHT!” He aims it at the stage making a mock shot. “BANG!”
Devil’s Sky resumes over the speakers as Kenny Omega tosses the mic out of the ring. He and the Young Bucks exchange a Too Sweet together before exiting the ring and making their way up the ramp.
As they reach the stage, we hear the rustling of headsets as Nick Hanson and James Reynolds recover at their table.
Reynolds: “Augh...fuck that hurt! You okay, Nicky?”
Hanson: “Ungh...I think so.... Jim, did you catch any of that?”
Reynolds: “I think I was out.... What the hell happened?”
Hanson: “My god, I think...Jim, I think we’ve just been invaded....”
As Hanson says this, the shot fades out with Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks standing on the stage....
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The women’s tag team match took on a rather surprising and unseen turn of events.
First, after Angel and Rosemary had made their entrances, Candi Brodeur came third and waited in her team’s designated corner. As Apocalypta’s grueling metal riff started up, the camera cut to the backstage area where we saw the woman of the Circle of Snakes making her way - disinterested at best - towards the entrance stage.
As she begins passing by a raised scaffolding, a rather startling crash sounds as a literal rain of bricks comes crashing down onto her. Apocalypta, making an effort to shield her head, goes down in the pile.
Reynolds: “What in the fresh hell?!”
Hanson: “Oh my god!!! Who...?!”
The camera quickly pans up, revealing...MARISSA PAYNE!! Standing on the scaffolding with her hands holding onto an upturned wheelbarrow, she assesses the damage done by her own actions, looking madder than all hell the entire time before she shoves the wheelbarrow off the edge. We hear it clatter loudly to the concrete floor as Marissa walks off camera, before cutting back to ringside.
After some heated debate with the referee, Candi Brodeur didn’t seem too concerned with her partner being unable to make it to the ring. Finally, the referee calls over the ring announcer to relay something to her. After a moment, the woman steps back, raising the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has informed me that Candi Brodeur still wishes to compete. Therefore, this match is now a HANDICAP TAG MATCH!”
Hanson: “WHAT?!”
Reynolds: “AWESOME FUCKING SAUCE!”
Hanson: “No! This is wrong! She doesn’t have to do this!”
——————————————————
The match started off with Candi vs Angel. While both women were ready for a fight, it looked like Angel’s martial arts, striking based style was giving her an edge against Candi’s grappling and submission. Angel didn’t even seem willing to tag out. It was only after a stiff kick that knocked Candi off her feet that she stepped over for some quick advice from Eido Tanaka that Rosemary suddenly tagged herself in with a rather harsh slap to Angel’s back. Grinning eerily, Rosemary slid in through the ropes and began honing in on Candi as she climbed to her feet, still rearing to go.
Before the two even locked up, as they were circling the ring against one another, a commotion started up in the crowd. The audience giving a loud pop.
Hanson: “What the hell’s going on now, Ji— WAIT A MINUTE!”
Nick Hanson exclaims as Marissa Payne comes from the crowd, leaping over the guard rail near Rosemary and Angel’s corner.
Hanson: “IT’S MARISSA PAYNE AGAIN!!”
Reynolds: “THE HELL IS SHE DOING OUT HERE?!”
That question was answered as Marissa grabbed Angel by the foot and yanked her off of the apron, before beginning to throw sharp elbows and kicks at the woman. As Angel turned her attention on her attacker, the referee hesitantly watches the interference before looking back to the two in the ring...and signaling for the match to continue!
Hanson: “Good call, ref!”
Reynolds: “No way! That should be a disqualification! This is bullshit!”
Hanson: “What are you talking about?! We’ve got an even match now! Let’s do this!”
Reynolds: “Aw, shut up Nicky!”
Angel and Marissa took their brawl into the crowd with Eido Tanaka being left to ponder just what the hell was going on as the tag team handicap match was now a one on one between Candi Brodeur and Rosemary; both women looking rather pleased at the idea of getting to go at it for a second time...
After a chaotic 10:22, Rosemary pinned Candi Brodeur after giving her The Red Wedding.
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During the main event, William Mannheim wheels Rick Dickulous out onto the entrance ramp in his wheelchair, a microphone in his hand, Pitt following behind. Mannheim stops Rick top centre of the ramp and puts the brakes on the wheelchair. Rick lifts the mic to his lips
"Adam Fucking Cole....I believe you and I have a little unfinished business....seeing how I'm clearly in no condition to handle that...."
*Mannheim and Pitt run to the ring, sliding under the ropes. Pitt grabs Abaddon, trading blows back and forth before Pitt gets the upper hand and tosses him into the referee, knocking both through the ropes and out onto the arena floor. Mannheim tosses Vincent Stone violently into the turnbuckle, stunning him, before turning to Adam Cole and nearly taking his head off with a brutal clothesline. As Vincent Stone stumbles out of the corner, Mannheim scrambles to the top rope while Pitt grabs Stone and hoists him into a jackhammer position. Mannheim leaps from the top ropes and grabs Stone's ankles as Mannheim and Pitt drive him into the mat*
Ring Announcer: "OH MY GOD, STONE HAS JUST TAKEN A TRIP TO HELL!! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?"
Rick Dickulous stands up from the wheelchair and tears off his knee brace, running to the ring as the crowd goes ballistic. He slides into the ring and grabs Adam Cole, placing his arm over Vincent Stone. All three men slide out of the ring as the referee slides back into the ring counting the pinfall at 14:19.
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In the aftermath of the match, the crowd watched as Adam Cole scooped up the Silver Mountain title, laughing in disbelief as he still possessed it, given the odds.
Meanwhile, Vincent Stone recovered from the assault from Mannheim and Pitt, circling the ring in exhaustion with a growing look of frustration on his face.
Hanson: “Oh he came so close....”
Reynolds: “Close but no cigar! Adam Cole is STILL our Silver Mountain champ, bay-bay!”
Hanson: “Will you stop?”
Reynolds: “What?”
As Adam Cole pulls himself to his feet, looking to Stone, the defeated superstar stands with his back to the champ, leaning against the ropes with Rosemary silently looking on from ringside with her head tilting to the side.
While we can’t fully hear the words being spoken, it becomes crystal clear that Cole is taunting Stone about his loss; raising the title belt over his head with that cocky of smile of his. Finally, Stone pushes away from the ropes and gets right in Adam’s face. We can read the champ’s lips as he stands his ground.
“What? What?! What are you gonna do?! You can’t beat the champ, bud!” Adam shoulders the belt, giving it a couple of pats before waving at Stone to leave the ring.
Stone gives an exasperated sigh as he turns his back to Cole, seemingly about to leave. Behind him, now, Cole hoists the belt and his other hand over head, giving a loud “ADAM COLE BAY-BA—“
But he’s cut off when Stone whirls around and CLOCKS him in the jaw with an elbow, sending him to the mat.
Hanson: “WHOA! WHAT THE HELL?!”
Reynolds: “HE CAN’T DO THAT! THAT’S THE CHAMPION!”
The shocked crowd looks on as Stone mounts and begins raining fists down onto Cole’s face. At ringside, Rosemary claps ecstatically, spinning around like a deranged, excited child. After taking it to Adam Cole with his fists, Vincent Stone pulls him to his feet and runs him into the corner with an irish whip. Cole hits the corner with a violet snap of his body while Stone poises in the corner, looking across the ring with a rage filled look in his eyes.
Hanson: “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
Reynolds: “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! ADAM GET OUT OF THERE!”
Adam Cole was actually helpless, at this point though, as Stone darted across the ring and hit him with the Bootscraper, causing him to slump down in the corner. Stone was quickly back to his feet then, looking down at Cole...fuming. He completely ignores the ref, then, as he seems to remember something. Looking back he sees the handcuffs that he reluctantly carried to the ring with him, now being twirled on the index finger of Rosemary with an ‘innocent’ smile on her face.
Hanson: “What’s he doing now?”
Hanson asks, as Stone leaves Cole in the corner, exiting the ring, gets right in Rosemary’s face...and snatches the handcuffs right off of her finger.
Hanson: “Aw no, c’mon Stone! Don’t do it! This is what she wants!”
But, of course, Stone can’t hear the announce team as he slides back into the ring and tosses the referee through the ropes before going back over to Adam Cole and handcuffing one if his wrists to the middle turnbuckle. With the Silver Mountain champion now restrained to the corner, Stone begins raining down a series of vicious stomps, stopping only to trade them out for a series of violent knees into Cole’s head. The assault only stops, finally when a team of referees manage to pull him away. Only then does he exit the ring and begin departing up the ramp to a mixture of boos and concerned calls from the crowd.
As Stone reaches the stage, he is joined by Rosemary, grinning wide under her face paint. Then, perhaps to the horror of all watching, Stone drops to his knees before the Demon Assassin and opens out his arms, as we faintly hear him calling up to her.
“Do it...DO IT!!!!”
Reynolds: “Do what?! What the hell is he talking about?!”
Hanson: “I have a bad feeling about this....”
Gleefully, Rosemary takes Stone’s head into her hands, going so far as to pet one side of his face as she smiles upwards...and then sprays her patented yellow mist from her mouth directly into Stone’s face. The man immediately pulls away from her, bringing his hands to his face with audible screaming. Surprisingly then, Rosemary goes to his side like a mother to her troubled child and hastily helps him to his feet. The eerie woman waving away the team of medics that appear to try and tend to the man as Rosemary walks Vincent Stone behind the curtain to the backstage area as the shot fades out
