Post by Admin on Dec 14, 2020 18:45:23 GMT -5
LIVE FROM THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM at the historic ELDORADO CASINO in RENO, NV DECEMBER 19, 2020 |
STATIC
A now-familiar static fills the screen before slowly fading to black as we hear a heavy guitar riff fading in from the silence. The song keeps growing louder until it reaches ear-piercing levels and suddenly just cuts out. The black screen is replaced by an image of a dark room of bare concrete and in its midst a large figure hunched over on the ground. A soft female voice begins to speak over the seemingly static image.
VOICEOVER
Driven to exile by those who do not understand him. Those who cannot accept him. Those who fear him. Lost in the darkness of his own mind for years. Thought dead by his family. Broken beyond measure. Both mentally. And physically.
Suddenly the static image springs to life as the camera zooms into the figure's head. A greasy mane of pitch black hair hanging like a veil in front of his face hiding almost all of it. But what is visible is gruesome. A face mutilated by scars, the most prominent going through his mouth like a grotesque smile permanently etched on his lips.
VOICEOVER
The existence of someone like him is not living. It is merely surviving. Hiding away in the darkness with nothing but his own twisted thoughts to accompany him. A voice from within him speaking of evil deeds. Of brutality and of chaos. A spirit of vengeance and destruction that slowly, little by little, with a whisper and a suggestion, pokes and prods a broken mind towards a new purpose. To bring pain to those who wronged him. To bring misery to those who live in luxury and comfort… To bring sorrow to a world that shuns him.
The camera pans back and shows the man standing up and letting a massive shout towards the ceiling, his entire body clenching from the force of it. He reaches down and pulls a leather mask from the ground, placing it on his face to cover up the scarring. With a flick of his wrist he throws his hair back and we are greeted by 2 eyes of the darkest, deepest black staring right down to your soul.
VOICEOVER
He has appeared out of the darkness before. Wreaked havoc wherever he went, leaving nothing but broken bodies and scarred souls in his path. He lays down a path of destruction until his lust for carnage is sated only to disappear back into the shadows once more. But now he is no longer alone with his insanity. Now he has a purpose. A guiding hand to look for direction.
Out of the darkness a lithe, brunette woman walks into the view, standing to the man's side and placing her hand on his arm. She looks up to him and speaks again, proving that she has been the one who has been the voiceover thus far.
WOMAN
Despite all he has done. Despite all he has gone through. Family will never let him down. I found him after years of searching. For the bond of blood is thicker than anything. My blood. His blood. Our blood. From birth to death we have shared a connection.
The woman turns to look at the camera, her eyes mirroring the look on the man's. Not quite as emotionless but unnervingly still regardless.
WOMAN
Yes. When a human mind is pushed beyond its limits… sometimes you get a catatonic shell of a man sitting unresponsive on the corner of a padded cell. But sometimes… sometimes you get something else. An unfeeling. Cold. Calculating monster. A being of pure destruction unlike a force of nature. Sometimes… you get a Machine. And now…
The camera pans back to fit both of them in the view as the music from the beginning returns in earnest and the view fades to black with three words spelled in large, blood red letters on it.
HE IS HERE.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
DOUBLE DEBUT
"THE CAREER KILLA" BLADE LOPEZ vs ALICE CHAMBERS
Lopez grabs Alice by the shoulders and levels her with an implant DDT as the bell rings. Chambers is quick to get back up, but she seems a bit shaken. Blade Lopez goes for a dropkick to the knee but misses and Alice capitalizes on the botch with an arm-wrench short-armed clothesline. Lopez is down and she backs off and then nails a running facewash when he starts to rise. Alice whips "The Career Killa" at the ropes, connecting with a cross body block that sends him sprawling to the floor. Alice seizes the ropes, vaulting over and crashing and burning in a suicide dive forearm as Lopez rolls aside. He punts her in the back and her shoulder smashes into the barrier. She screams out in pain and crumples to the floor but Lopez drops a knee on her shoulder before hauling her up by the hair and hoisting her on his shoulders. He runs at the ring and tosses her over the ropes. She lands awkwardly, still favoring that shoulder and it looks like she might actually be seriously injured. Lopez doesn’t seem like he cares as he drives another knee into her shoulder and then hooks her head, wrenching her to her feet in one swift motion – MOOD KILLER (Million Dollar Dream) and she’s back down, screaming in pain as he rolls over on her, lazily making the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): "THE CAREER KILLA" BLADE LOPEZ
The trainers and medical staff pour out from behind the curtain as security gets in the ring, cutting Lopez off from doing further damage. He smirks and shakes his head, dismissing the noisy crowd reaction as he rolls out of the ring and makes his way up the ramp while staff tends to the fallen Chambers.
CUT TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN DENMARK
The image cuts to THE MAN. Ageless, his face fills the scene. His skin is painted white with red around his eyes that runs down his cheeks like blood. There’s a BEAT OF SILENCE…then music. 'TIPTOE THROUGH THE TULIPS' by Tiny Tim plays and, as the ukulele strums, the camera tracks backwards, pulling away to reveal more of his face.
Tip-toe through the window
By the window, that is where I'll be
Come tip-toe through the tulips with me
His eyes open, milky with pinhead black dots in their centers. The camera continues to PULL BACK, slowly revealing more of his face. The narrow bridge of his nose. The slope of his painted forehead. His sculpted cheekbones, square jaw, strong chin—
Tip-toe from the garden
By the garden of a lily tree
And tip-toe through the tulips with me
—and his thin, red lips, razor-sharp and corners creeping up his face into a vast, mad rictus, flashing sharp teeth. A deadly smile. A killer’s grin. A hyena’s sneer. FARTHER AWAY the camera dollies, until his upper body slithers into frame. His arms charcoal. His shoulders and chest crimson. The words WE ARE MANY are scrawled across his abdomen in dozens of different hands. A warm light glows behind his back, surrounding him in a fiery halo. Further in the distance the night sky is black as pitch and devoid of stars. It’s the same endless void seen in the pupils staring at the camera.
And if I kiss you in the garden
In the moonlight, will you pardon me?
And tip-toe through the tulips with me
The music moves into the coda and the man lets out a muted chuckle and a long sigh. His countenance relaxes, serious eyes soften, and his lips slip their way back down his face, straightening into a narrow slice across his maw. As the final note lingers, he turns and walks out of frame. The camera tracks forward and down to reveal rows of headstones, one after the other, until they disappear in the blackness. The frame centers on a slab of granite, atop which rests a kerosene lamp, and moves closer until the words etched in the stone focus into view. They read:
SPIRAL
"Undgå for en frastødning ikke
det formål, du besluttede at gennemføre."
FØDT
26. NOVEMBER 1977
DØDE
2. NOVEMBER 2020
The music ends but silence does not replace it. Instead a whistling is heard which matches Tiny Tim’s high-pitched, falsetto melody. Then comes the sound of a zipper, the shuffling of fabric and what follows is a stream of urine which splashes across the headstone. The whistling continues as the camera pans up, following the Man’s two long, jean-covered legs, to his hips where one hand rests. The other hand is hidden in the pixelated blob of his open fly from which a stream of urine sprays into the cool air. Further up the view continues to move, past his torso and neck until his face, aglow from the lamp, settles back into view.
He’s whistling like Mickey Mouse on a stream ship as the last splash of urine is heard. He gives a shake, zips his pants, and then looks to the camera.
THE MAN
You wanted the Son of Spiral. We’re gonna give you something much, much worse.
_____________________________________________
Tip-toe through the window
By the window, that is where I'll be
Come tip-toe through the tulips with me
His eyes open, milky with pinhead black dots in their centers. The camera continues to PULL BACK, slowly revealing more of his face. The narrow bridge of his nose. The slope of his painted forehead. His sculpted cheekbones, square jaw, strong chin—
Tip-toe from the garden
By the garden of a lily tree
And tip-toe through the tulips with me
—and his thin, red lips, razor-sharp and corners creeping up his face into a vast, mad rictus, flashing sharp teeth. A deadly smile. A killer’s grin. A hyena’s sneer. FARTHER AWAY the camera dollies, until his upper body slithers into frame. His arms charcoal. His shoulders and chest crimson. The words WE ARE MANY are scrawled across his abdomen in dozens of different hands. A warm light glows behind his back, surrounding him in a fiery halo. Further in the distance the night sky is black as pitch and devoid of stars. It’s the same endless void seen in the pupils staring at the camera.
And if I kiss you in the garden
In the moonlight, will you pardon me?
And tip-toe through the tulips with me
The music moves into the coda and the man lets out a muted chuckle and a long sigh. His countenance relaxes, serious eyes soften, and his lips slip their way back down his face, straightening into a narrow slice across his maw. As the final note lingers, he turns and walks out of frame. The camera tracks forward and down to reveal rows of headstones, one after the other, until they disappear in the blackness. The frame centers on a slab of granite, atop which rests a kerosene lamp, and moves closer until the words etched in the stone focus into view. They read:
SPIRAL
"Undgå for en frastødning ikke
det formål, du besluttede at gennemføre."
FØDT
26. NOVEMBER 1977
DØDE
2. NOVEMBER 2020
The music ends but silence does not replace it. Instead a whistling is heard which matches Tiny Tim’s high-pitched, falsetto melody. Then comes the sound of a zipper, the shuffling of fabric and what follows is a stream of urine which splashes across the headstone. The whistling continues as the camera pans up, following the Man’s two long, jean-covered legs, to his hips where one hand rests. The other hand is hidden in the pixelated blob of his open fly from which a stream of urine sprays into the cool air. Further up the view continues to move, past his torso and neck until his face, aglow from the lamp, settles back into view.
He’s whistling like Mickey Mouse on a stream ship as the last splash of urine is heard. He gives a shake, zips his pants, and then looks to the camera.
THE MAN
You wanted the Son of Spiral. We’re gonna give you something much, much worse.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- GM'S OFFICE
GENERAL MANAGER JACKSON is shown, seated behind his desk, staring down at a pile of paperwork. Sighing, he takes off his reading glasses and sets them down, reaching up with both hands to rub his temples. Just then, the old school hard phone on his desk rings and he stabs a button to put it on speaker.
JACKSON
Tell me it's not what I think, Doc.
ASH DEVEREAUX
Separated shoulder. I won't know how severe until we get her down to Saint Mary's for a scan. We're looking at a good four to six weeks she'll be out of action... at least. Maybe longer depending on the severity.
JACKSON
Fuck.
ASH DEVEREAUX
Yeah. Sorry, boss. It's-
Jackson reaches over and lifts the receiver before immediately dropping it again, effectively ending the call in the rudest way possible. He looks up to find SAMANTHA TOLSON standing in the doorway and for a moment, she seems almost taken aback at the angry scowl on his face. When she doesn't say anything, he snaps at her.
JACKSON
What?
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Is this a bad time?
JACKSON
We're off to a banner start to the evening already, so why not pile some more bullshit on.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
What happened?
JACKSON
"The Career Killa" may have done just that. The Chambers girl's sidelined with a shoulder issue. Guess that's her fifteen minutes over already. So if you're coming in here to bitch about card placement or social media etiquette or-
She holds up a hand, shaking her head.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Not even remotely. I wanted to let you know that I think you're doing a hell of a job. Face-to-face, so you know I'm not just paying lip service.
JACKSON
I feel like there's a "but" in there somewhere.
She holds his gaze for a moment before flipping her hair over her shoulder absently.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
What's the saying? Never bullshit a bull-shitter?
JACKSON
Something like that.
He stares at her for a few seconds before shaking his head.
JACKSON
Just tell me what you want, Sam.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
I came here to be part of a REVOLUTION, Jax. So far, I haven't done much of anything and I'm looking to change that. Not a knock at all on your booking. I get it. It's just Chris Mosh-
JACKSON
JACKSON
Tell me it's not what I think, Doc.
ASH DEVEREAUX
Separated shoulder. I won't know how severe until we get her down to Saint Mary's for a scan. We're looking at a good four to six weeks she'll be out of action... at least. Maybe longer depending on the severity.
JACKSON
Fuck.
ASH DEVEREAUX
Yeah. Sorry, boss. It's-
Jackson reaches over and lifts the receiver before immediately dropping it again, effectively ending the call in the rudest way possible. He looks up to find SAMANTHA TOLSON standing in the doorway and for a moment, she seems almost taken aback at the angry scowl on his face. When she doesn't say anything, he snaps at her.
JACKSON
What?
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Is this a bad time?
JACKSON
We're off to a banner start to the evening already, so why not pile some more bullshit on.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
What happened?
JACKSON
"The Career Killa" may have done just that. The Chambers girl's sidelined with a shoulder issue. Guess that's her fifteen minutes over already. So if you're coming in here to bitch about card placement or social media etiquette or-
She holds up a hand, shaking her head.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Not even remotely. I wanted to let you know that I think you're doing a hell of a job. Face-to-face, so you know I'm not just paying lip service.
JACKSON
I feel like there's a "but" in there somewhere.
She holds his gaze for a moment before flipping her hair over her shoulder absently.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
What's the saying? Never bullshit a bull-shitter?
JACKSON
Something like that.
He stares at her for a few seconds before shaking his head.
JACKSON
Just tell me what you want, Sam.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
I came here to be part of a REVOLUTION, Jax. So far, I haven't done much of anything and I'm looking to change that. Not a knock at all on your booking. I get it. It's just Chris Mosh-
JACKSON
Isn't who you came here to fight?
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Exactly. For the first show back in the New Year, I want to face whoever loses that match between Michael Marou and Luther Thunder. I want to test myself against the best this company has to offer. From where I stand, those two are it.
Nodding, the General Manager favors her with a smile.
JACKSON
Think we can make that happen.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Thanks.
She turns to leave but when Jackson clears his throat, she turns back.
JACKSON
Good luck out there tonight against Mosh; got a bad feeling tonight's fuckery's just getting started.
MADDI "SKITTLES" BROOKS vs SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
Siobahn McLeod’s clearly looking to avenge that debut loss as she forcefully locks up with the veteran Maddi “Skittles” Brooks, measuring forces. The colorful Maddi looks like she’s taking control as she overpowers and tosses Siobahn against the ropes – DENIED! The Sidhe comes back with fury and a cactus clothesline almost turns Maddi inside out. Siobahn quickly lifts Skittles back up to her feet, but she’s fired up now and there’s a huge flurry of strikes to the rookie’s head before she catches the arm and drags her way out of harm’s way. Resetting, Skittles whips the rookie across the ring, and as she comes back, attacks McLeod with Overdrive (pele kick). Siobahn crashes to her knees, dazed and Skittles takes her down the rest of the way with a DDT and a cover.
ONE!
TW—NO!
Maddi looks to pull the rookie to her feet and gets a resounding chop for her troubles. Skittles staggers as Siobahn hits the ropes behind her, spearing her opponent into the mat and trying to lock her into a figure four – it’s a little off and Skittles breaks out and lunges for the ropes only to have Siobahn grab her by the ankle and pull her back into a quick rollup – REVERSAL! Skittles rolls through and lands back on her knees behind – HOLY SHIT ELBOW TO THE FACE! Siobahn hooks her opponent by the head and hoist her upwards, bouncing Maddi's midsection on the ropes before slamming her down into the mat with the CHERRY BOMB (slingshot suplex)!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Exactly. For the first show back in the New Year, I want to face whoever loses that match between Michael Marou and Luther Thunder. I want to test myself against the best this company has to offer. From where I stand, those two are it.
Nodding, the General Manager favors her with a smile.
JACKSON
Think we can make that happen.
SAMANTHA TOLSON
Thanks.
She turns to leave but when Jackson clears his throat, she turns back.
JACKSON
Good luck out there tonight against Mosh; got a bad feeling tonight's fuckery's just getting started.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
MADDI "SKITTLES" BROOKS vs SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
Siobahn McLeod’s clearly looking to avenge that debut loss as she forcefully locks up with the veteran Maddi “Skittles” Brooks, measuring forces. The colorful Maddi looks like she’s taking control as she overpowers and tosses Siobahn against the ropes – DENIED! The Sidhe comes back with fury and a cactus clothesline almost turns Maddi inside out. Siobahn quickly lifts Skittles back up to her feet, but she’s fired up now and there’s a huge flurry of strikes to the rookie’s head before she catches the arm and drags her way out of harm’s way. Resetting, Skittles whips the rookie across the ring, and as she comes back, attacks McLeod with Overdrive (pele kick). Siobahn crashes to her knees, dazed and Skittles takes her down the rest of the way with a DDT and a cover.
ONE!
TW—NO!
Maddi looks to pull the rookie to her feet and gets a resounding chop for her troubles. Skittles staggers as Siobahn hits the ropes behind her, spearing her opponent into the mat and trying to lock her into a figure four – it’s a little off and Skittles breaks out and lunges for the ropes only to have Siobahn grab her by the ankle and pull her back into a quick rollup – REVERSAL! Skittles rolls through and lands back on her knees behind – HOLY SHIT ELBOW TO THE FACE! Siobahn hooks her opponent by the head and hoist her upwards, bouncing Maddi's midsection on the ropes before slamming her down into the mat with the CHERRY BOMB (slingshot suplex)!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
The scene opens with SCOTT DUNN standing on a concrete staircase, wearing his full ring gear and a cap on his beautiful, bald head.
SCOTT DUNN
Alright folks? Your lad Scotty D here, is everyone listening good? Ah, who am I kidding, we all know you are. Find me any newcomer to the roster more talked about since last show than me. In fact don’t bother, you can’t. Know why? Easy, I got in their heads.
He taps his temple and gives a snide looking smirk.
SCOTT DUNN
But not everyone gets in mine and my focus here is on one person only: Matthew Knox. Now, you wanna know a secret? Course you do, nosy bastard. The secret is when this all began I had nothing personally against this guy. Sure, he’s a bit of a cock, but he ain’t the worst. And yes he’s a bit full of shit - I mean, the dude claims he’s respectful unless disrespected first, that’s some bull right there - but at least he ain’t pretending he’s a fantasy creature.
Dunn folds his arms, taking a moment to blatantly pose a tad.
SCOTT DUNN
Na, what’s annoying with him is he thinks he can come here and walk all over people in whatever way he likes, just because he was successful at some other places. Check it, this guy wanted to downtalk me before I did anything here and that’s cute, but it only makes him look dumb as hell.
Scott tuts.
SCOTT DUNN
And why, because he’s been at this longer? Sure, past glory is nice and all, but you know what? History is full of great warriors who fought well for years, only to fall to some newcomer. What you did in a war a year ago doesn’t mean a damn thing when a horde is banging the door of your castle down. Life is always about what is happening here and now. If you look back so damn much, you’ll just get a neckache.
He cranks his neck, showing no such ache for him.
SCOTT DUNN
Now is the time for the future, not worrying over the past. But I get it, he wants hostilities cause he thinks he can get in your head. What the thick folks here just don’t grasp, though, is me being nasty ain’t a sign you bothered me. These are people who want to try and somehow win on twitter, like that matters at all, then expect me to spend my time indulging them? Na, fuck off with that, I’ll spend my time messing with them. It works, too. Got folks shaking in their fuckin’ boots, if I really meant so little then I’d be ignored, but I ain’t. That’s just fine by me, I even got suckers lining up to try and take me on in the coming shows. Got folks in their feels for pointing out how dumb their nickname is, or how old they are. I even saw a whole ass thread of tweets all about trash talking me, and that’s so funny to me.
His arms unfold and he points to the camera now.
SCOTT DUNN
But don’t get it twisted, once we’re in that ring? That’s a whole ‘nother ball game. Anyone can sit on twitter and boast, list their accomplishments or whatever. That ain’t me. I know what I can do, it doesn’t matter if you know it too. Saying this will be easy makes you look like a fuckin’ clown, so put the red nose on and do your damn makeup. When we get into that ring, that’s when the games and words stop, it’s when this big slab of meat right here-
He points to himself.
SCOTT DUNN
-will smack a fool around without hesitation. That’s all there is to it. When I beat the snot out of you, Knoxy...when I leave you on your ass and wishing you hadn’t pissed me off, then I look forward to seeing everyone make excuses for you.
He ends the segment chuckling to himself at the mere thought of it.
_____________________________________________
SCOTT DUNN
Alright folks? Your lad Scotty D here, is everyone listening good? Ah, who am I kidding, we all know you are. Find me any newcomer to the roster more talked about since last show than me. In fact don’t bother, you can’t. Know why? Easy, I got in their heads.
He taps his temple and gives a snide looking smirk.
SCOTT DUNN
But not everyone gets in mine and my focus here is on one person only: Matthew Knox. Now, you wanna know a secret? Course you do, nosy bastard. The secret is when this all began I had nothing personally against this guy. Sure, he’s a bit of a cock, but he ain’t the worst. And yes he’s a bit full of shit - I mean, the dude claims he’s respectful unless disrespected first, that’s some bull right there - but at least he ain’t pretending he’s a fantasy creature.
Dunn folds his arms, taking a moment to blatantly pose a tad.
SCOTT DUNN
Na, what’s annoying with him is he thinks he can come here and walk all over people in whatever way he likes, just because he was successful at some other places. Check it, this guy wanted to downtalk me before I did anything here and that’s cute, but it only makes him look dumb as hell.
Scott tuts.
SCOTT DUNN
And why, because he’s been at this longer? Sure, past glory is nice and all, but you know what? History is full of great warriors who fought well for years, only to fall to some newcomer. What you did in a war a year ago doesn’t mean a damn thing when a horde is banging the door of your castle down. Life is always about what is happening here and now. If you look back so damn much, you’ll just get a neckache.
He cranks his neck, showing no such ache for him.
SCOTT DUNN
Now is the time for the future, not worrying over the past. But I get it, he wants hostilities cause he thinks he can get in your head. What the thick folks here just don’t grasp, though, is me being nasty ain’t a sign you bothered me. These are people who want to try and somehow win on twitter, like that matters at all, then expect me to spend my time indulging them? Na, fuck off with that, I’ll spend my time messing with them. It works, too. Got folks shaking in their fuckin’ boots, if I really meant so little then I’d be ignored, but I ain’t. That’s just fine by me, I even got suckers lining up to try and take me on in the coming shows. Got folks in their feels for pointing out how dumb their nickname is, or how old they are. I even saw a whole ass thread of tweets all about trash talking me, and that’s so funny to me.
His arms unfold and he points to the camera now.
SCOTT DUNN
But don’t get it twisted, once we’re in that ring? That’s a whole ‘nother ball game. Anyone can sit on twitter and boast, list their accomplishments or whatever. That ain’t me. I know what I can do, it doesn’t matter if you know it too. Saying this will be easy makes you look like a fuckin’ clown, so put the red nose on and do your damn makeup. When we get into that ring, that’s when the games and words stop, it’s when this big slab of meat right here-
He points to himself.
SCOTT DUNN
-will smack a fool around without hesitation. That’s all there is to it. When I beat the snot out of you, Knoxy...when I leave you on your ass and wishing you hadn’t pissed me off, then I look forward to seeing everyone make excuses for you.
He ends the segment chuckling to himself at the mere thought of it.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA
Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste.
The camera cuts on to some nondescript side of a highway in the vast Nevada desert. The warm sun beats down through a cool desert wind. Filling most of the lens is a tall, slender figure dressed in black from head to toe. Skin a ghostly white, eyes full of an unsettlingly calm intensity.
Against the vast desert, he looks somewhere between an ethereal spectre and the Grim Reaper himself.
MATT KNOX
I first met the man leading this uprising when he was my age now, and I was nothing more than a yapping pup nipping at the heels of the Alpha Wolf. A foal trying to run down The Dark Horse.
A brief cut to stock footage of the silhouette of a horse against a setting desert sun, its head bowed and feeding upon whatever nutrition it could find in the barren landscape.
MATT KNOX
And now, years later. More than a decade. I have darkened his doorstep once more. Not to run down the old horse, not to tear the throat from the alpha and claim the pack as my own. No. Not his throat.
The camera cuts back to the lonely highway, to the spectre leaning against the 1972 Jaguar XJ12 just as black and sleek as its owner. A relic of a day gone by piloted by a man railing against his own setting sun. The perfect hearse.
MATT KNOX
Brad Jackson started an Uprising in Professional Wrestling, after years of stomping through the profession as a boogeyman. A name that snatched the attention of everyone in the back. A name champions shied away from. All but one.
The camera cuts once more, now with the figure front and center, staring into the lens. His voice fills the viewer’s ears, yet his thin, pale lips remain in the sinister smirk. A smirk that provides the deadliest glimmer to the glasz gaze they share a face with.
MATT KNOX
I’m here now, in this Uprising to be that man again and to be the man he was. The monster among beasts. A reckoning. A visitor gently rapping upon your chamber door. I am The Raven. I am Reckoning.
His smile broadens then, and finally he speaks into that cool desert wind.
MATT KNOX
And I’m here.
With that, the camera cuts away.
DOUBLE DEBUT
MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX vs SCOTT DUNN
Both men meet in the middle of the ring, a pair of debuting stars with polar opposite receptions and announcements. Knox the veteran with a reputation that preceded him among his peers, and Dunn fresh faced in the States and looking to make an impact. The two men lock up with Scott instantly getting a strength advantage, pushing Knox into a corner. Instead of a clean break he begins to drive his shoulder into Knox’s midsection! Eventually he whips Knox to the opposite corner and goes to charge in with a clothesline, but the veteran scouts it and moves out of the way, letting the big hoss smash himself into the turnbuckles! Knox takes advantage and nails Dunn with a backstabber, before leaping upon his opponent and locking in an arm bar! Dunn manages to power through eventually, getting to a vertical base and getting a rope break. Knox backs off as the fans pop at the quick display of offense by the highly-touted signing. Their energy pumps Knox up as he ducks under a clothesline, and floors Dunn once more with a picture-perfect roundhouse kick!
Knox pulls Dunn to his feet, only to once again be tossed into a corner by the stronger, younger man! Dunn begins unloading rights and lefts into Knox who does his best to cover up, but Dunn has none of it, capturing Knox around the waist and launching him out of the corner with a release belly to belly suplex! Knox arches his back in pain, but Dunn stays on him, stomping the older competitor with an indignant fury until Knox snatches one of his ankles, and yanks it out from under him! Knox kips to his feet once again as Dunn sits up, infuriated. The bad blood the two is evident in Dunn’s face as he stares daggers up at the veteran who simply repays it with a grin and a shrug as he backs into the ropes and leans into them, waiting. Dunn scrambles to his feet and charges Knox, looking for a clothesline but the veteran ducks down with a low bridge, sending Dunn over the top rope and to the outside! Dunn hits the ground with a loud thud, but gets to his feet with the help of the barrier.
Knox runs to the ropes opposite, bouncing off them and he launches himself to the outside with a big suicide dive, nailing Dunn and taking them both into the barrier with a vicious impact! Both men look dazed, Knox once again favors his back but he's back to his hands and knees first, pulling himself to his feet as Dunn is on his hands and knees by the ring apron. Knox measures Dunn up, backing up a few steps as the fans pop. Knox charges in, leaping and springing off the ring steps he goes to nail a super man punch but Dunn has come up from the apron holding a steel chair retrieved from under the ring! He nails Knox between the eyes as he flies midair, knocking him to the ground. The ref calls for the bell and disqualification as Dunn throws the chair down to a chorus of boos!
WINNER (VIA DISQUALIFICATION): MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX
The camera cuts on to some nondescript side of a highway in the vast Nevada desert. The warm sun beats down through a cool desert wind. Filling most of the lens is a tall, slender figure dressed in black from head to toe. Skin a ghostly white, eyes full of an unsettlingly calm intensity.
Against the vast desert, he looks somewhere between an ethereal spectre and the Grim Reaper himself.
MATT KNOX
I first met the man leading this uprising when he was my age now, and I was nothing more than a yapping pup nipping at the heels of the Alpha Wolf. A foal trying to run down The Dark Horse.
A brief cut to stock footage of the silhouette of a horse against a setting desert sun, its head bowed and feeding upon whatever nutrition it could find in the barren landscape.
MATT KNOX
And now, years later. More than a decade. I have darkened his doorstep once more. Not to run down the old horse, not to tear the throat from the alpha and claim the pack as my own. No. Not his throat.
The camera cuts back to the lonely highway, to the spectre leaning against the 1972 Jaguar XJ12 just as black and sleek as its owner. A relic of a day gone by piloted by a man railing against his own setting sun. The perfect hearse.
MATT KNOX
Brad Jackson started an Uprising in Professional Wrestling, after years of stomping through the profession as a boogeyman. A name that snatched the attention of everyone in the back. A name champions shied away from. All but one.
The camera cuts once more, now with the figure front and center, staring into the lens. His voice fills the viewer’s ears, yet his thin, pale lips remain in the sinister smirk. A smirk that provides the deadliest glimmer to the glasz gaze they share a face with.
MATT KNOX
I’m here now, in this Uprising to be that man again and to be the man he was. The monster among beasts. A reckoning. A visitor gently rapping upon your chamber door. I am The Raven. I am Reckoning.
His smile broadens then, and finally he speaks into that cool desert wind.
MATT KNOX
And I’m here.
With that, the camera cuts away.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
DOUBLE DEBUT
MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX vs SCOTT DUNN
Both men meet in the middle of the ring, a pair of debuting stars with polar opposite receptions and announcements. Knox the veteran with a reputation that preceded him among his peers, and Dunn fresh faced in the States and looking to make an impact. The two men lock up with Scott instantly getting a strength advantage, pushing Knox into a corner. Instead of a clean break he begins to drive his shoulder into Knox’s midsection! Eventually he whips Knox to the opposite corner and goes to charge in with a clothesline, but the veteran scouts it and moves out of the way, letting the big hoss smash himself into the turnbuckles! Knox takes advantage and nails Dunn with a backstabber, before leaping upon his opponent and locking in an arm bar! Dunn manages to power through eventually, getting to a vertical base and getting a rope break. Knox backs off as the fans pop at the quick display of offense by the highly-touted signing. Their energy pumps Knox up as he ducks under a clothesline, and floors Dunn once more with a picture-perfect roundhouse kick!
Knox pulls Dunn to his feet, only to once again be tossed into a corner by the stronger, younger man! Dunn begins unloading rights and lefts into Knox who does his best to cover up, but Dunn has none of it, capturing Knox around the waist and launching him out of the corner with a release belly to belly suplex! Knox arches his back in pain, but Dunn stays on him, stomping the older competitor with an indignant fury until Knox snatches one of his ankles, and yanks it out from under him! Knox kips to his feet once again as Dunn sits up, infuriated. The bad blood the two is evident in Dunn’s face as he stares daggers up at the veteran who simply repays it with a grin and a shrug as he backs into the ropes and leans into them, waiting. Dunn scrambles to his feet and charges Knox, looking for a clothesline but the veteran ducks down with a low bridge, sending Dunn over the top rope and to the outside! Dunn hits the ground with a loud thud, but gets to his feet with the help of the barrier.
Knox runs to the ropes opposite, bouncing off them and he launches himself to the outside with a big suicide dive, nailing Dunn and taking them both into the barrier with a vicious impact! Both men look dazed, Knox once again favors his back but he's back to his hands and knees first, pulling himself to his feet as Dunn is on his hands and knees by the ring apron. Knox measures Dunn up, backing up a few steps as the fans pop. Knox charges in, leaping and springing off the ring steps he goes to nail a super man punch but Dunn has come up from the apron holding a steel chair retrieved from under the ring! He nails Knox between the eyes as he flies midair, knocking him to the ground. The ref calls for the bell and disqualification as Dunn throws the chair down to a chorus of boos!
WINNER (VIA DISQUALIFICATION): MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
TAG TEAM MATCH
SMILES PROTECTION AGENCY vs TRINACRIA
The match begins with Jessi and Nico coming out of their corners, staring down at one another. Smiles starts working up the crowd, and the audience responds with clapping and cheering, drawing an instant reaction from Nico, who instantly ends Jessi's jumping around with a strong lock-up, eventually forcing her against the ropes. Jessi struggles and manages to escape to the side, but Nico is right after her, grappling her from behind the first chance he gets, slamming her down quickly. Jessi bounces right back to her feet, jumping at her corner and tagging the stronger Taylor Samuels in and she’s happy to slap the smirk right off Pazzini’s face. He staggers back from the force of the impact and she looks for a pounce – NOPE! Nico avoids, bounces off the ropes and leaps over Taylor, who's ready for an alley-oop. As Pazzini bounces on the opposite ropes, he blindly tags Rhodes in, a fact that’s missed by The Smiles Protection Agency. Nico tries to take her down with a shoulder tackle, but Taylor ducks. Pazzini rolls back to his feet and while Taylor has her eyes on who she thinks is the legal man, Ricky Rhodes rolls her up from behind.
ONE!
TW—NO!
Samuels DECKS Rhodes for his sins, bringing him back to his feet and pressing him against a corner, proceeding to unleash a barrage of chops to his chest. After she's pleased, she whips him into the opposite corner, watching gleefully as he bounces with his back into the tensors and staggers forward. But as she's ready to slam him into the mat, he puts her in a perfect clutch – KREESE LIGHTNING! He sweeps the leg, and she crashes to the mat, rolling to the outside only to be met by Vincenzo. Backpedaling, she ends up against the ring and Rhodes catches her by the hair and hauls her back up on the apron to thunderous booing from the crowd. Vincenzo smashes a forearm across her face and she’s limp already before the backstabber connects and he rolls right through into Stay Down Dammit (schoolboy rollup with a handful of tights). Vincenzo is up on the apron as Nico dives off the ropes, tackling Jessi as she tries to break up the dirty pin – there’s too much going on for Neil Rana to focus on fully and he misses that handful of tights as he starts the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): TRINACRIA
We head backstage to find LOGAN LEWIS preparing for the biggest match of her short career so far, which is impressive because it's only match three! But not only was it match number three, it was a main event against two of the toughest competitors in all of Uprising. So how was she preparing? Bouncing an oversized bouncy ball of course! With each bounce, Logan prances down the hallway to catch the clear ball until she finally bounces it extra hard and it flies down the hallway unexpectedly.
LOGAN LEWIS
No! I can't lose my only ball!
Logan teases and gives chase, her eyes on the hard floor with each big pace she takes towards the ball that's evading her. As she stretches her hand out, finally within reach of the ball, another hand snatches it out of the air, causing Logan to pump the brakes, screeching her Converse against the hard floor to avoid whoever it is in front of her.
LOGAN LEWIS
What the hell?
It's only when her eyes move up that she comes face to face with her 'mentor' of sorts, but the man she has barely spoken a word to in the last week and a half, one of her opponents tonight, DON TIRRI. He squeezes the ball as Logan just stares at that grizzled hand.
LOGAN LEWIS
What's up?
Staring at the ball in his hand, "Old School Cool" looks like he regretted turning a corner to get to this place. He glances up and tosses the ball back to Logan.
DON TIRRI
Flix... Of all the people I had to run into you. What are you doin here, runnin' around the hallways like a headless chicken? Shouldn't you be in the lockers, preparing for the mess you cooked up?
There's an edge to his voice and his body language screams uncomfortable.
It was Logan's turn to squeeze the ball now, as her expression also screamed 'get me out of here'. Her knuckles are turning red from how hard she's squeezing the damned thing.
LOGAN LEWIS
I was going crazy in my locker room. There's only so many times I can run the match through my head. I'm ready to just do it. Being the main event and seeing everyone else wrestle first is weird to me.
The rookie shrugs and then decides to address the part that stuck out more than any that he had mentioned.
LOGAN LEWIS
Mess I cooked up? Listen. When I cook, it's usually Ramen Noodles or milkshakes. So there's no mess okay? Now, if you're referring to getting myself added into this match, I'd say that's a WE thing. You cheated in the first round, I had a meeting with the boss man and here we are.
Logan bounces the ball twice now, trying to break the tension.
LOGAN LEWIS
What about you? Why are you out and about? Surprised you aren't in your own locker room, watching some Bob Ross videos and meditating.
A flash of anger lights up Tirri's eyes for a second, but he gets the better of it quickly. The veteran clearly doesn't want to give Lewis the pleasure of seeing him rattled. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms, managing to look nonchalant.
DON TIRRI
Bob Ross, eh? That your idea of a boomer joke? Wouldn't do you some harm to mediate and reflect on your choices at times. I've told you time and again: what happened on the first round match was nothing more than wrestling. Shit like that happens.
Glancing up and down on the young girl, Tirri shakes his head.
DON TIRRI
But I don't mind that you stood up to yourself. I applaud that. What I mind is the fact that you got so hung up on how I beat you and so hung up on being the first champion that you couldn't see the big picture.
He falls silent for a moment and shrugs.
DON TIRRI
I really wished we could've settled this matter the right way. One on One. Preferably with me as the champion and you as the challenger. THAT would've been the ultimate redemption arc for you. Out in the first round, fought back to challenge the man who robbed her. And beat him legitimately to win the title. THAT is what I would've preferred, Flix. And I would've welcomed it. But now... We got a lottery.
LOGAN LEWIS
Hey! I'm old enough to buy a lottery ticket! Let's go!
Seeing that Don isn't smiling, or laughing at all, the smile at her own joke quickly disappears as she nods her head.
LOGAN LEWIS
You know? Maybe you're right, but the reality is this is where we are. So, instead of spending the last two weeks giving off friendly banter, maybe training together, and using our friendship to kind of work a two on one angle against the tail-y one, we're here. You with a red face, me with a red knuckle.
She holds the ball up and then drops it, letting it bounce down the hallway.
LOGAN LEWIS
Sometimes, you have to let people learn on their own. This could be my moment of realization, or it could be my moment of triumph. While you continue to talk about it being about luck, and a matter of who hits the lotto, I feel like I prepared the best way possible for the match and put myself in the best position to win. I'm keeping a positive outlook, and you're all gloom and doom. Why don't you relax a little?
Tirri's almost grinding his teeth a bit and he rolls his eyes at her.
DON TIRRI
Relax? You just don't get it, Flix. This isn't a game. This isn't some fairytale where the knight slays the dragon and rescues the damsel. That dragon is more than capable of whipping both of our asses and this time there IS no second chances for the losers. This time when you lose you can't go to Jax and talk yourself into a rematch. And neither can I.
The big man takes a step forward, intercepting the ball and picks it up. He stares at it for a while before lobbing it towards Lewis. Slow enough to give her time to react but still hard enough to give her a scare. He gives a small smile as he sees the girl snatch it from midair, barely an inch off her face. Turning his back to the girl, Tirri starts walking towards his lockers.
DON TIRRI
See you in the ring Flix. I hope you finally realize what you've gotten yourself into.
Logan looks down at the ball again as "Old School Cool" disappears.
LOGAN LEWIS
Maybe you'll be the one who realizes I was never a damsel...
The cameras move away from Logan, who has a look of determination in her eyes, the feed shifting to an advertisement for the (Un)Lucky 16 Tournament that Splat will be hosting in May of 2021!
LOGAN LEWIS
No! I can't lose my only ball!
Logan teases and gives chase, her eyes on the hard floor with each big pace she takes towards the ball that's evading her. As she stretches her hand out, finally within reach of the ball, another hand snatches it out of the air, causing Logan to pump the brakes, screeching her Converse against the hard floor to avoid whoever it is in front of her.
LOGAN LEWIS
What the hell?
It's only when her eyes move up that she comes face to face with her 'mentor' of sorts, but the man she has barely spoken a word to in the last week and a half, one of her opponents tonight, DON TIRRI. He squeezes the ball as Logan just stares at that grizzled hand.
LOGAN LEWIS
What's up?
Staring at the ball in his hand, "Old School Cool" looks like he regretted turning a corner to get to this place. He glances up and tosses the ball back to Logan.
DON TIRRI
Flix... Of all the people I had to run into you. What are you doin here, runnin' around the hallways like a headless chicken? Shouldn't you be in the lockers, preparing for the mess you cooked up?
There's an edge to his voice and his body language screams uncomfortable.
It was Logan's turn to squeeze the ball now, as her expression also screamed 'get me out of here'. Her knuckles are turning red from how hard she's squeezing the damned thing.
LOGAN LEWIS
I was going crazy in my locker room. There's only so many times I can run the match through my head. I'm ready to just do it. Being the main event and seeing everyone else wrestle first is weird to me.
The rookie shrugs and then decides to address the part that stuck out more than any that he had mentioned.
LOGAN LEWIS
Mess I cooked up? Listen. When I cook, it's usually Ramen Noodles or milkshakes. So there's no mess okay? Now, if you're referring to getting myself added into this match, I'd say that's a WE thing. You cheated in the first round, I had a meeting with the boss man and here we are.
Logan bounces the ball twice now, trying to break the tension.
LOGAN LEWIS
What about you? Why are you out and about? Surprised you aren't in your own locker room, watching some Bob Ross videos and meditating.
A flash of anger lights up Tirri's eyes for a second, but he gets the better of it quickly. The veteran clearly doesn't want to give Lewis the pleasure of seeing him rattled. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms, managing to look nonchalant.
DON TIRRI
Bob Ross, eh? That your idea of a boomer joke? Wouldn't do you some harm to mediate and reflect on your choices at times. I've told you time and again: what happened on the first round match was nothing more than wrestling. Shit like that happens.
Glancing up and down on the young girl, Tirri shakes his head.
DON TIRRI
But I don't mind that you stood up to yourself. I applaud that. What I mind is the fact that you got so hung up on how I beat you and so hung up on being the first champion that you couldn't see the big picture.
He falls silent for a moment and shrugs.
DON TIRRI
I really wished we could've settled this matter the right way. One on One. Preferably with me as the champion and you as the challenger. THAT would've been the ultimate redemption arc for you. Out in the first round, fought back to challenge the man who robbed her. And beat him legitimately to win the title. THAT is what I would've preferred, Flix. And I would've welcomed it. But now... We got a lottery.
LOGAN LEWIS
Hey! I'm old enough to buy a lottery ticket! Let's go!
Seeing that Don isn't smiling, or laughing at all, the smile at her own joke quickly disappears as she nods her head.
LOGAN LEWIS
You know? Maybe you're right, but the reality is this is where we are. So, instead of spending the last two weeks giving off friendly banter, maybe training together, and using our friendship to kind of work a two on one angle against the tail-y one, we're here. You with a red face, me with a red knuckle.
She holds the ball up and then drops it, letting it bounce down the hallway.
LOGAN LEWIS
Sometimes, you have to let people learn on their own. This could be my moment of realization, or it could be my moment of triumph. While you continue to talk about it being about luck, and a matter of who hits the lotto, I feel like I prepared the best way possible for the match and put myself in the best position to win. I'm keeping a positive outlook, and you're all gloom and doom. Why don't you relax a little?
Tirri's almost grinding his teeth a bit and he rolls his eyes at her.
DON TIRRI
Relax? You just don't get it, Flix. This isn't a game. This isn't some fairytale where the knight slays the dragon and rescues the damsel. That dragon is more than capable of whipping both of our asses and this time there IS no second chances for the losers. This time when you lose you can't go to Jax and talk yourself into a rematch. And neither can I.
The big man takes a step forward, intercepting the ball and picks it up. He stares at it for a while before lobbing it towards Lewis. Slow enough to give her time to react but still hard enough to give her a scare. He gives a small smile as he sees the girl snatch it from midair, barely an inch off her face. Turning his back to the girl, Tirri starts walking towards his lockers.
DON TIRRI
See you in the ring Flix. I hope you finally realize what you've gotten yourself into.
Logan looks down at the ball again as "Old School Cool" disappears.
LOGAN LEWIS
Maybe you'll be the one who realizes I was never a damsel...
The cameras move away from Logan, who has a look of determination in her eyes, the feed shifting to an advertisement for the (Un)Lucky 16 Tournament that Splat will be hosting in May of 2021!
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
TAG TEAM MATCH
SMILES PROTECTION AGENCY vs TRINACRIA
The match begins with Jessi and Nico coming out of their corners, staring down at one another. Smiles starts working up the crowd, and the audience responds with clapping and cheering, drawing an instant reaction from Nico, who instantly ends Jessi's jumping around with a strong lock-up, eventually forcing her against the ropes. Jessi struggles and manages to escape to the side, but Nico is right after her, grappling her from behind the first chance he gets, slamming her down quickly. Jessi bounces right back to her feet, jumping at her corner and tagging the stronger Taylor Samuels in and she’s happy to slap the smirk right off Pazzini’s face. He staggers back from the force of the impact and she looks for a pounce – NOPE! Nico avoids, bounces off the ropes and leaps over Taylor, who's ready for an alley-oop. As Pazzini bounces on the opposite ropes, he blindly tags Rhodes in, a fact that’s missed by The Smiles Protection Agency. Nico tries to take her down with a shoulder tackle, but Taylor ducks. Pazzini rolls back to his feet and while Taylor has her eyes on who she thinks is the legal man, Ricky Rhodes rolls her up from behind.
ONE!
TW—NO!
Samuels DECKS Rhodes for his sins, bringing him back to his feet and pressing him against a corner, proceeding to unleash a barrage of chops to his chest. After she's pleased, she whips him into the opposite corner, watching gleefully as he bounces with his back into the tensors and staggers forward. But as she's ready to slam him into the mat, he puts her in a perfect clutch – KREESE LIGHTNING! He sweeps the leg, and she crashes to the mat, rolling to the outside only to be met by Vincenzo. Backpedaling, she ends up against the ring and Rhodes catches her by the hair and hauls her back up on the apron to thunderous booing from the crowd. Vincenzo smashes a forearm across her face and she’s limp already before the backstabber connects and he rolls right through into Stay Down Dammit (schoolboy rollup with a handful of tights). Vincenzo is up on the apron as Nico dives off the ropes, tackling Jessi as she tries to break up the dirty pin – there’s too much going on for Neil Rana to focus on fully and he misses that handful of tights as he starts the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): TRINACRIA
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
Still seething after his match earlier, SCOTT DUNN continues his tirade backstage. First he flips over a table. Surprisingly, that bright orange Tupperware that's been lingering backstage for weeks flies through the air, those now-month old wolf-shaped sugar cookies shooting up like confetti only to explode into sugary shrapnel on impact with the floor. Dunn doesn't notice, or maybe doesn't care as he turns that fury elsewhere, throwing a chair at a TV, knocking it from the wall. When he notices the camera, he clicks his fingers to bring it closer.
SCOTT DUNN
You see what I did out there today? Huh, did you? Fuck it, I know you did, I got all eyes on me and I left that jackass Knox in a puddle outside the ring. Who isn’t savage now, punk-ass bitch?
He laughs.
SCOTT DUNN
There comes a point where it stops being about wins and losses and it becomes a whole deal more important to simply send a message. I consider that message to be sent now, at least Knox finally managed to be useful for something.
He acts surprised.
SCOTT DUNN
It's been the same story ever since I got here. Not one person came to me with any level of respect. Na, the fuckers here think they're all that, they're amazing, they're God's gift to wrestling. But they ain't, nobody here is a legit legend. Just people who were big fishies in polluted little ponds nobody cares about enough to actually fuckin’ watch.
A big shrug from Dunn.
SCOTT DUNN
These idiots can have their jokes and they can think they're winning because they wrote some "witty" tweets, but there is nobody in this company, nobody, that gets to suggest fighting me is easy.
SCOTT DUNN
And now you got the evidence to back it up. Took the fight to Knox, then took him out when it suited me to do so. I showed I'll go to lengths to achieve my goal, I'll do whatever I please.
He yanks the camera from the guy holding it, pulling it so hard the guy can be heard falling over and then yelping as he impales himself on the sharp cookie shards. Then he stares directly into it.
SCOTT DUNN
And no face paint wearing fuck, no fraction denying grandpa, no dragon cosplay dipshit and no four year master is ever gonna stop me. Enjoy your 'win', bitch.
The last shot seen is the camera careening rapidly toward the wall.
_____________________________________________
SCOTT DUNN
You see what I did out there today? Huh, did you? Fuck it, I know you did, I got all eyes on me and I left that jackass Knox in a puddle outside the ring. Who isn’t savage now, punk-ass bitch?
He laughs.
SCOTT DUNN
There comes a point where it stops being about wins and losses and it becomes a whole deal more important to simply send a message. I consider that message to be sent now, at least Knox finally managed to be useful for something.
He acts surprised.
SCOTT DUNN
It's been the same story ever since I got here. Not one person came to me with any level of respect. Na, the fuckers here think they're all that, they're amazing, they're God's gift to wrestling. But they ain't, nobody here is a legit legend. Just people who were big fishies in polluted little ponds nobody cares about enough to actually fuckin’ watch.
A big shrug from Dunn.
SCOTT DUNN
These idiots can have their jokes and they can think they're winning because they wrote some "witty" tweets, but there is nobody in this company, nobody, that gets to suggest fighting me is easy.
SCOTT DUNN
And now you got the evidence to back it up. Took the fight to Knox, then took him out when it suited me to do so. I showed I'll go to lengths to achieve my goal, I'll do whatever I please.
He yanks the camera from the guy holding it, pulling it so hard the guy can be heard falling over and then yelping as he impales himself on the sharp cookie shards. Then he stares directly into it.
SCOTT DUNN
And no face paint wearing fuck, no fraction denying grandpa, no dragon cosplay dipshit and no four year master is ever gonna stop me. Enjoy your 'win', bitch.
The last shot seen is the camera careening rapidly toward the wall.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
The broadcast returns from another ad break to find "THE MONSTER MACHINE" ENIGMA standing in the ring as 'Focus' by Hocus Pocus fades out. He lifts the microphone to his lips and begins to speak, slowly and haltingly, as though he has rehearsed this speech many times but is still struggling with the words.
ENIGMA
Here we are, six days away from the Svyatki... the Christmastide... and there are no gifts on the tree for Enigma. Do not mistake my words here. I am not looking the gift horse in the mouth and I am grateful to have been given employment in these trying times but...
He pauses, looking almost sad.
ENIGMA
The toilets are very hard to clean and the waste bins seem to fill themselves. I did not come to the glorious city of Reno to be in waste management. I came here to wrestle. I came here to be among the greatest grapplers that have ever graced this circle. We are having our third show and I am still without someone to face. I am-
The lights suddenly go dark, the crowd growing restless as a ripple of fear seems to move through them, making some start to panic and whisper amongst themselves. Someone lets out a muffled shriek.
ENIGMA
Do not pani-
The lights come back to the arena, revealing a confused Enigma standing with a lithe woman dressed in a business suit standing in front of him. Before he can grasp the situation, the woman smiles and points over his shoulder. The camera pans backwards just as Enigma turns and we see the full picture. Behind him stands a huge man, at least 6'9" tall; he seems to dwarf Enigma. The woman takes a few steps back and the big man suddenly explodes into action, grabbing Enigma, sending him to the ropes and catching him with a spinning sidewalk slam on the rebound. The microphone flies across the ring, feedback ripping across the sound system when it impacts. Without letting Enigma even catch his breath the big man rolls him onto his stomach, ties up Enigma's legs around his, and grabs his arms in a modified Surfboard Stretch. The hold doesn’t last long as in one brutal motion the big man places his foot on the back of Enigma's head and stomps down with his full weight, burying the face of his hapless victim into the mat. While this happens, the woman has grabbed the fallen microphone and as the big man untangles himself and stands over the fallen Enigma, she speaks up.
JENNIFER RIVERS
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jennifer Rivers. Some might recognize me and know me by some other name, several in fact. But those names are irrelevant. For I am not here to talk about myself. I am here to talk about HIM. The beast who stands beside me. The man who was once my brother. The monster who has for years been known simply as… Supreme Machine.
The camera pans in to focus on SUPREME MACHINE. Dressed in a pair of loose leathery pants and a blue vest that barely covers his torso, the man is clearly ripped. But more importantly the skin that can be seen is curiously covered in an intricate web of scars. A greasy, unkempt mane of black hair hangs in front of his face like a veil, failing to hide the fact that his face is covered by a black leather mask.
JENNIFER RIVERS
You are bearing witness to a force of destruction unlike anything this company or this business has seen. A being devoid of empathy or sympathy. Not a man but as his name implies... a machine. He is here not in search of fame nor fortune but simply to quench his thirst for brutality. He cannot be reasoned with. He cannot be bargained with. He doesn’t feel remorse or pity. Or fear. And he absolutely will not stop until you are done. That is why I am here. I am here to prevent him from going too far. I am here to keep him in check as much as he can be kept. But do not count on being able to escape him through me. I am a hard woman to convince and even harder to please. And if you think he is but a mindless beast… you could not be further from the truth. For I speak ABOUT him. Not FOR him.
Rivers moves next to SuMa, handing the microphone to the man. SuMa cocks his head from side to side in a slow, exaggerated motion before taking the mic. Holding his head down, he brings it to his lips and begins to speak in a low, booming voice with a harsh edge.
SUPREME MACHINE
Her words ring true… for she does not speak for us. We are more than capable of doing that ourselves… Uprising… From the darkness we have watched. Observed. Learned. Seen what lies ahead of us. This pathetic, mewling weakling who fell under our foot was but the first of many. None shall hinder our path. Those who try will be cast aside like the insects they are. From now on we are enemies… you and us. For we are Destruction personified. And we are no longer hiding in the shadows. Our body marks our story. So read our scars. For they tell you of your fate should you stand in our way. That… we promise.
With that SuMa drops the microphone to the ground and whips his head up, letting out a primal scream that causes every muscle in his body to tense up. Jenny places her hand on his shoulder softly and whispers something in his ear before she finally leads the beast out of the ring. The view shifts backstage as medical personnel come running from the back for the second time of the night.
CUT TO:
GRUDGE MATCH
KENDRICK KROSS vs SAW
Kendrick feints and then charges at SAW, hitting him with football tackle that drive both men back into the ropes. SAW sends a stiff punch into Kross' jaw, almost as though sending a warning. Kendrick doesn't even falter; instead, he shifts his weight, telegraphing a kidney shot that SAW scouts a mile off. He moves just in time and Kross punches the ring post. As his face registers the pain, SAW grabs him and takes him down hard with a belly to belly side suplex – a split second later he’s got a kimura locked in and Kross looks stunned before he manages to catch the rope. Back up with the reset and as Kross looks to grab him, SAW lashes out with a foot, catching Kross in the groin. SAW moves in, connecting with a knee strike that snaps Kross' head back before forcing him to his knees and locking in an inverted front facelock. Only a few seconds pass before Kendrick Kross decides he's had enough and he makes his way to his feet and shoves SAW at the ropes. On the rebound, he drops The Master with a shoulder block. SAW’s back to his feet immediately but gets pushed back against the ropes with a hard left hook to the jaw. SAW fires right back, gets Kross reeling and then nails him with a spinning backfist. Kross clinches, shoving SAW back even though his nose is bleeding from the hard shot. The ref asks for a clean break, and for a moment, we might have gotten one. However, SAW is quick to go for the double-leg takedown from the corner, sending Kross down and applying a rear naked choke. He looks like he has the match well in hand but again Kross lunges at the ropes and gets a break.
Both men scramble back to their feet, and Kross drives a knee to the gut of SAW, before a whip into the ropes leads to a short armed clothesline. Kross grabs SAW by the head, hauling him roughly to his feet. SAW locks his arms around Kross' middle, cinching in a bear hug that turns into a belly to back suplex that he bridges for a pinfall. Kross fights to break free while the crowd erupts in fresh cheers for SAW.
ONE!
TWO!
TH—NO!
Kross kicks out with authority and once they’re up he charges at SAW, pushing him back into the corner and pummeling him with closed fists, which earns him a warning from Ref Stef. Kross shrugs, backing off slightly, only to be leveled as SAW charges at him with a vicious throat thrust. Kross stumbles back to his feet, and he lunges at SAW, taking him down as he reverses SAW's momentum with a huge forearm shot – REVERSAL! SAW hooks the arm and boots Kross in the guts before hoisting him up! HOLY SHIT TIGER DRIVER OUT OF NOWHERE! Again, SAW lifts Kross to his feet and tosses him through the middle ropes, where he sprawls on the concrete floor, still dazed. SAW runs across the ring, and dives over the ropes with a suicida – OH NO! Kross moves at the last second and it’s enough for SAW to crash and burn against the barrier, his knee smashing into the jaw of Kross. The crowd is going nuts, chanting for their favorite but neither man is stirring.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
The eyelids of Kendrick Kross flutter and there’s blood all over his face and it’s unclear if it’s from his nose or his mouth but it doesn’t look good.
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
SAW lifts his head, reaches out and grabs the edge of the barrier as the frenzied crowd gets louder.
EIGHT!
NINE!
SAW tries to pull himself up and slumps back down, clearly dazed.
TEN!
WINNER: DOUBLE COUNT OUT
ENIGMA
Here we are, six days away from the Svyatki... the Christmastide... and there are no gifts on the tree for Enigma. Do not mistake my words here. I am not looking the gift horse in the mouth and I am grateful to have been given employment in these trying times but...
He pauses, looking almost sad.
ENIGMA
The toilets are very hard to clean and the waste bins seem to fill themselves. I did not come to the glorious city of Reno to be in waste management. I came here to wrestle. I came here to be among the greatest grapplers that have ever graced this circle. We are having our third show and I am still without someone to face. I am-
The lights suddenly go dark, the crowd growing restless as a ripple of fear seems to move through them, making some start to panic and whisper amongst themselves. Someone lets out a muffled shriek.
ENIGMA
Do not pani-
The lights come back to the arena, revealing a confused Enigma standing with a lithe woman dressed in a business suit standing in front of him. Before he can grasp the situation, the woman smiles and points over his shoulder. The camera pans backwards just as Enigma turns and we see the full picture. Behind him stands a huge man, at least 6'9" tall; he seems to dwarf Enigma. The woman takes a few steps back and the big man suddenly explodes into action, grabbing Enigma, sending him to the ropes and catching him with a spinning sidewalk slam on the rebound. The microphone flies across the ring, feedback ripping across the sound system when it impacts. Without letting Enigma even catch his breath the big man rolls him onto his stomach, ties up Enigma's legs around his, and grabs his arms in a modified Surfboard Stretch. The hold doesn’t last long as in one brutal motion the big man places his foot on the back of Enigma's head and stomps down with his full weight, burying the face of his hapless victim into the mat. While this happens, the woman has grabbed the fallen microphone and as the big man untangles himself and stands over the fallen Enigma, she speaks up.
JENNIFER RIVERS
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jennifer Rivers. Some might recognize me and know me by some other name, several in fact. But those names are irrelevant. For I am not here to talk about myself. I am here to talk about HIM. The beast who stands beside me. The man who was once my brother. The monster who has for years been known simply as… Supreme Machine.
The camera pans in to focus on SUPREME MACHINE. Dressed in a pair of loose leathery pants and a blue vest that barely covers his torso, the man is clearly ripped. But more importantly the skin that can be seen is curiously covered in an intricate web of scars. A greasy, unkempt mane of black hair hangs in front of his face like a veil, failing to hide the fact that his face is covered by a black leather mask.
JENNIFER RIVERS
You are bearing witness to a force of destruction unlike anything this company or this business has seen. A being devoid of empathy or sympathy. Not a man but as his name implies... a machine. He is here not in search of fame nor fortune but simply to quench his thirst for brutality. He cannot be reasoned with. He cannot be bargained with. He doesn’t feel remorse or pity. Or fear. And he absolutely will not stop until you are done. That is why I am here. I am here to prevent him from going too far. I am here to keep him in check as much as he can be kept. But do not count on being able to escape him through me. I am a hard woman to convince and even harder to please. And if you think he is but a mindless beast… you could not be further from the truth. For I speak ABOUT him. Not FOR him.
Rivers moves next to SuMa, handing the microphone to the man. SuMa cocks his head from side to side in a slow, exaggerated motion before taking the mic. Holding his head down, he brings it to his lips and begins to speak in a low, booming voice with a harsh edge.
SUPREME MACHINE
Her words ring true… for she does not speak for us. We are more than capable of doing that ourselves… Uprising… From the darkness we have watched. Observed. Learned. Seen what lies ahead of us. This pathetic, mewling weakling who fell under our foot was but the first of many. None shall hinder our path. Those who try will be cast aside like the insects they are. From now on we are enemies… you and us. For we are Destruction personified. And we are no longer hiding in the shadows. Our body marks our story. So read our scars. For they tell you of your fate should you stand in our way. That… we promise.
With that SuMa drops the microphone to the ground and whips his head up, letting out a primal scream that causes every muscle in his body to tense up. Jenny places her hand on his shoulder softly and whispers something in his ear before she finally leads the beast out of the ring. The view shifts backstage as medical personnel come running from the back for the second time of the night.
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
We head backstage where we see "THE FIREBIRD" IGNIS. Like her namesake, she has a fire in her eyes, and seems to be in a pretty bad mood.
IGNIS
Hello everyone. I’m Ignis, and as I had the night off tonight, I thought I’d kick it here backstage, have a glass of wine and enjoy the show. But then... something happened. Something that lit the flames under the Firebird’s wings, so to speak.
She glances off to the side, where the shattered TV still lays on the floor next to that mangled up chair.
IGNIS
So here I stand, microphone in hand, ready to breathe some fire.
She shakes her head.
IGNIS
The man I wish to address is one "Savage" Scott Dunn. And let me say, you certainly live up to your moniker... you are a savage. An irresponsible, uncouth, callous bastard who thinks the world should bow to his whims because he’s so great. I don’t see someone great, though. I see someone who shirked his match and took advantage of an opponent. I see a coward. And trashing shit backstage... really? Are you a pro wrestler or a five year old who’s been told he can’t have ice cream? Wait... that can’t be right, because not even a five year old would behave that way, unless their parenting was non-existent. Were you raised by animals? No... because animals don’t behave that way, either. You know, I didn’t wanna go here, but it’s clear to me what you are: a no-good piece of shit.
She growls at the camera.
IGNIS
You wanna send a message, huh? Well I received your message, and I think it sucks. I don’t see a tough guy, or a hard-ass. I see a petulant little child throwing his toys out the pram and smashing shit up. You want respect? What about what you did deserves a modicum of respect? You want respect? I’ll do you a deal. Mr. Jackson, I know you’re in charge, but please hear me out. I want Scott Dunn one on one. And to avoid him taking another cowardly DQ loss, like the coward he apparently is, I would ask the favour that you add some kind of stipulation to this match that prevents such chicanery. I just feel, on behalf of every UPRISING fan, and all the good, sane people backstage, I wanna kick seven bells out of this stupid fuck. Because let me tell you, Scott... I understand you’re new to this business, but if you think this is the way to get over? Nah, mate. You’re a coward and a bully and lowlife piece of crap. And I will show you firsthand the error of your ways, Mr. Jackson willing, when I lock you in the Burning Embers and make you submit like the little bitch you are. The challenge has been laid down. Hopefully, I will see you in the ring in the new year, Scott.
She leans in and smirks.
IGNIS
And I’ll show you first hand what a wrestler worthy of "respect" looks like, kid.
She walks off, and we head back to ringside.
CHRIS MOSH vs SAMANTHA TOLSON
Mosh gets tossed to the floor by Tolson in the opening seconds and he looks to capitalize, going for a belly to belly suplex after Tolson avoids a telegraphed lariat. Tolson looks pissed to have a suplex used on her and she lets Mosh know with a huge forearm to the face that drives him back towards the ring. He breaks away and rolls back inside to stop Neil Rana from starting to count. Samantha slides into the ring behind him and almost obliterates Mosh with a spinning backhand punch on the heels of her kip up. Mosh stumbles into the ropes and Tolson follows up with a victory roll!
ONE!
TW—NO!
Back on their feet, Mosh whiffs on a superkick and almost hands the match to Tolson who takes him down with a thunderous three amigos of German Suplexes. Going for an elbow drop bears no fruit as Mosh rolls aside and then grabs Tolson, locking her into a crossface but she catches the rope and Mosh begrudgingly releases after a warning from the official. Tolson blocks a sunset flip to the floor and dropkicks Mosh off the apron. She follows up with a suicide dive and crashes and burns right into a huge Garvin stomp from Mosh before being unceremoniously dumped back into the ring. Mosh goes for a 450 splash and drives his knees right into Tolson's head. She’s dazed and Mosh seems to be somewhere else entirely, that good humor all but absent as he pulls Tolson up by the hair – MOSH PIT (Vertebreaker) OUT OF NOWHERE! Tolson flops like a rag doll and Mosh floats over for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): CHRIS MOSH
_____________________________________________
IGNIS
Hello everyone. I’m Ignis, and as I had the night off tonight, I thought I’d kick it here backstage, have a glass of wine and enjoy the show. But then... something happened. Something that lit the flames under the Firebird’s wings, so to speak.
She glances off to the side, where the shattered TV still lays on the floor next to that mangled up chair.
IGNIS
So here I stand, microphone in hand, ready to breathe some fire.
She shakes her head.
IGNIS
The man I wish to address is one "Savage" Scott Dunn. And let me say, you certainly live up to your moniker... you are a savage. An irresponsible, uncouth, callous bastard who thinks the world should bow to his whims because he’s so great. I don’t see someone great, though. I see someone who shirked his match and took advantage of an opponent. I see a coward. And trashing shit backstage... really? Are you a pro wrestler or a five year old who’s been told he can’t have ice cream? Wait... that can’t be right, because not even a five year old would behave that way, unless their parenting was non-existent. Were you raised by animals? No... because animals don’t behave that way, either. You know, I didn’t wanna go here, but it’s clear to me what you are: a no-good piece of shit.
She growls at the camera.
IGNIS
You wanna send a message, huh? Well I received your message, and I think it sucks. I don’t see a tough guy, or a hard-ass. I see a petulant little child throwing his toys out the pram and smashing shit up. You want respect? What about what you did deserves a modicum of respect? You want respect? I’ll do you a deal. Mr. Jackson, I know you’re in charge, but please hear me out. I want Scott Dunn one on one. And to avoid him taking another cowardly DQ loss, like the coward he apparently is, I would ask the favour that you add some kind of stipulation to this match that prevents such chicanery. I just feel, on behalf of every UPRISING fan, and all the good, sane people backstage, I wanna kick seven bells out of this stupid fuck. Because let me tell you, Scott... I understand you’re new to this business, but if you think this is the way to get over? Nah, mate. You’re a coward and a bully and lowlife piece of crap. And I will show you firsthand the error of your ways, Mr. Jackson willing, when I lock you in the Burning Embers and make you submit like the little bitch you are. The challenge has been laid down. Hopefully, I will see you in the ring in the new year, Scott.
She leans in and smirks.
IGNIS
And I’ll show you first hand what a wrestler worthy of "respect" looks like, kid.
She walks off, and we head back to ringside.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
CHRIS MOSH vs SAMANTHA TOLSON
Mosh gets tossed to the floor by Tolson in the opening seconds and he looks to capitalize, going for a belly to belly suplex after Tolson avoids a telegraphed lariat. Tolson looks pissed to have a suplex used on her and she lets Mosh know with a huge forearm to the face that drives him back towards the ring. He breaks away and rolls back inside to stop Neil Rana from starting to count. Samantha slides into the ring behind him and almost obliterates Mosh with a spinning backhand punch on the heels of her kip up. Mosh stumbles into the ropes and Tolson follows up with a victory roll!
ONE!
TW—NO!
Back on their feet, Mosh whiffs on a superkick and almost hands the match to Tolson who takes him down with a thunderous three amigos of German Suplexes. Going for an elbow drop bears no fruit as Mosh rolls aside and then grabs Tolson, locking her into a crossface but she catches the rope and Mosh begrudgingly releases after a warning from the official. Tolson blocks a sunset flip to the floor and dropkicks Mosh off the apron. She follows up with a suicide dive and crashes and burns right into a huge Garvin stomp from Mosh before being unceremoniously dumped back into the ring. Mosh goes for a 450 splash and drives his knees right into Tolson's head. She’s dazed and Mosh seems to be somewhere else entirely, that good humor all but absent as he pulls Tolson up by the hair – MOSH PIT (Vertebreaker) OUT OF NOWHERE! Tolson flops like a rag doll and Mosh floats over for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): CHRIS MOSH
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
GRUDGE MATCH
KENDRICK KROSS vs SAW
Kendrick feints and then charges at SAW, hitting him with football tackle that drive both men back into the ropes. SAW sends a stiff punch into Kross' jaw, almost as though sending a warning. Kendrick doesn't even falter; instead, he shifts his weight, telegraphing a kidney shot that SAW scouts a mile off. He moves just in time and Kross punches the ring post. As his face registers the pain, SAW grabs him and takes him down hard with a belly to belly side suplex – a split second later he’s got a kimura locked in and Kross looks stunned before he manages to catch the rope. Back up with the reset and as Kross looks to grab him, SAW lashes out with a foot, catching Kross in the groin. SAW moves in, connecting with a knee strike that snaps Kross' head back before forcing him to his knees and locking in an inverted front facelock. Only a few seconds pass before Kendrick Kross decides he's had enough and he makes his way to his feet and shoves SAW at the ropes. On the rebound, he drops The Master with a shoulder block. SAW’s back to his feet immediately but gets pushed back against the ropes with a hard left hook to the jaw. SAW fires right back, gets Kross reeling and then nails him with a spinning backfist. Kross clinches, shoving SAW back even though his nose is bleeding from the hard shot. The ref asks for a clean break, and for a moment, we might have gotten one. However, SAW is quick to go for the double-leg takedown from the corner, sending Kross down and applying a rear naked choke. He looks like he has the match well in hand but again Kross lunges at the ropes and gets a break.
Both men scramble back to their feet, and Kross drives a knee to the gut of SAW, before a whip into the ropes leads to a short armed clothesline. Kross grabs SAW by the head, hauling him roughly to his feet. SAW locks his arms around Kross' middle, cinching in a bear hug that turns into a belly to back suplex that he bridges for a pinfall. Kross fights to break free while the crowd erupts in fresh cheers for SAW.
ONE!
TWO!
TH—NO!
Kross kicks out with authority and once they’re up he charges at SAW, pushing him back into the corner and pummeling him with closed fists, which earns him a warning from Ref Stef. Kross shrugs, backing off slightly, only to be leveled as SAW charges at him with a vicious throat thrust. Kross stumbles back to his feet, and he lunges at SAW, taking him down as he reverses SAW's momentum with a huge forearm shot – REVERSAL! SAW hooks the arm and boots Kross in the guts before hoisting him up! HOLY SHIT TIGER DRIVER OUT OF NOWHERE! Again, SAW lifts Kross to his feet and tosses him through the middle ropes, where he sprawls on the concrete floor, still dazed. SAW runs across the ring, and dives over the ropes with a suicida – OH NO! Kross moves at the last second and it’s enough for SAW to crash and burn against the barrier, his knee smashing into the jaw of Kross. The crowd is going nuts, chanting for their favorite but neither man is stirring.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
The eyelids of Kendrick Kross flutter and there’s blood all over his face and it’s unclear if it’s from his nose or his mouth but it doesn’t look good.
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
SAW lifts his head, reaches out and grabs the edge of the barrier as the frenzied crowd gets louder.
EIGHT!
NINE!
SAW tries to pull himself up and slumps back down, clearly dazed.
TEN!
WINNER: DOUBLE COUNT OUT
CUT TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN RENO
The words RECORDED EARLIER THIS WEEK flash across the screen before we open up in a café bar somewhere in Reno. We see debuting trio THE CRUSH: the dark-haired CARAMEL CANE on the left, the obnoxious LOLLIPOP in the middle, and the muscle of the group, HEIDI AUSTIN on the right. The three are having drinks together, and sharing a large bowl of fries on the table in front of them.
CARAMEL CANE
Yo, is this thing on? Testes, one, two... three?!
LOLLIPOP
We’re live, pal.
CARAMEL CANE
Holy balls! Er... hey! My name’s Carrie Cane, and I’m here with my gals Lollipop & Heidi Austin...
Lollipop nods in acknowledgement as Heidi mumbles a hello with her mouth full.
CARAMEL CANE
And we are the Crush! The Revolution is Televised, and trust me when I say, the Crush is all about turning a bunch of shit on its head. We’ve been kicked out of bars in five continents, beaten up everyone from Argentinian horse bints to the freakin’ IRA. And this Saturday, we’ll be bringing our own brand of mayhem and violence exclusively to UPRISING!
Heidi nods.
HEIDI AUSTIN
Yeah, and we got ourselves a doozy of a first match, going against Marci & Serenity, the Super Ultra Friendship Gang! A really happy-go-lucky, fun-loving pair who wanna do good and get the fans behind them!
LOLLIPOP
They sound revolting.
CARAMEL CANE
Hey come on, Grumpus, they just wanna put the fun back into wrestling. That’s kinda what we do. We just... have very different ideas of what constitutes fun. They like ponies and rainbows. You like hitting people with bricks. That kinda thing.
LOLLIPOP
I do like bricks. They build pubs out of them and they knock people out. It’s at worst my second favourite building material. I like ponies too!
HEIDI AUSTIN
You posting pictures of Twilight Sparkle taking a huge one up the backside doesn’t constitute liking ponies...
LOLLIPOP
Hey don’t go kink shaming. Or I’ll tell everyone what you & Bobby do with buckets of chicken.
HEIDI AUSTIN
HEY!
CARAMEL CANE
Finger lickin’ good, indeed. But if I can drag this promo kicking and screaming back on point, we’re all about friendship too. We’re kinda the... Super Happy Tree Friends of professional wrestling, And come Saturday, we will give you a great gift of friendship, from us to you... a bloody violent beating.
LOLLIPOP
OH you get them a present, but you didn’t get me shit for my birthday!
CARAMEL CANE
I got you an open bar, what more you fucking want?
LOLLIPOP
That was you?!
CARAMEL CANE
YEAH.
LOLLIPOP
Shit, that was organized, I assumed it was Heidi.
HEIDI AUSTIN
MMFFLE.
The powerhouse’s attempt to interject is stymied by a mouthful of fries.
LOLLIPOP
But sure, we can be giving and generous. It is the Holiday season after all. So I propose a toast, ladies.
She grabs her glass of JD & Coke and raises it.
LOLLIPOP
To Friendship.
CARRIE & HEIDI IN UNISON
To Friendship!
They all have a good chug.
LOLLIPOP
So Marci & Serenity, let our match be a true festival of friendship. And when it’s all said and done, the smoke has cleared and the dust has settled, you can enjoy your night together as friends... in twin hospital beds!
The three girls laugh.
TRIO
SEASON’S BEATINGS!
We cut the feed, and head to yet another advertising break for more upcoming SplatTV content.
_____________________________________________
CARAMEL CANE
Yo, is this thing on? Testes, one, two... three?!
LOLLIPOP
We’re live, pal.
CARAMEL CANE
Holy balls! Er... hey! My name’s Carrie Cane, and I’m here with my gals Lollipop & Heidi Austin...
Lollipop nods in acknowledgement as Heidi mumbles a hello with her mouth full.
CARAMEL CANE
And we are the Crush! The Revolution is Televised, and trust me when I say, the Crush is all about turning a bunch of shit on its head. We’ve been kicked out of bars in five continents, beaten up everyone from Argentinian horse bints to the freakin’ IRA. And this Saturday, we’ll be bringing our own brand of mayhem and violence exclusively to UPRISING!
Heidi nods.
HEIDI AUSTIN
Yeah, and we got ourselves a doozy of a first match, going against Marci & Serenity, the Super Ultra Friendship Gang! A really happy-go-lucky, fun-loving pair who wanna do good and get the fans behind them!
LOLLIPOP
They sound revolting.
CARAMEL CANE
Hey come on, Grumpus, they just wanna put the fun back into wrestling. That’s kinda what we do. We just... have very different ideas of what constitutes fun. They like ponies and rainbows. You like hitting people with bricks. That kinda thing.
LOLLIPOP
I do like bricks. They build pubs out of them and they knock people out. It’s at worst my second favourite building material. I like ponies too!
HEIDI AUSTIN
You posting pictures of Twilight Sparkle taking a huge one up the backside doesn’t constitute liking ponies...
LOLLIPOP
Hey don’t go kink shaming. Or I’ll tell everyone what you & Bobby do with buckets of chicken.
HEIDI AUSTIN
HEY!
CARAMEL CANE
Finger lickin’ good, indeed. But if I can drag this promo kicking and screaming back on point, we’re all about friendship too. We’re kinda the... Super Happy Tree Friends of professional wrestling, And come Saturday, we will give you a great gift of friendship, from us to you... a bloody violent beating.
LOLLIPOP
OH you get them a present, but you didn’t get me shit for my birthday!
CARAMEL CANE
I got you an open bar, what more you fucking want?
LOLLIPOP
That was you?!
CARAMEL CANE
YEAH.
LOLLIPOP
Shit, that was organized, I assumed it was Heidi.
HEIDI AUSTIN
MMFFLE.
The powerhouse’s attempt to interject is stymied by a mouthful of fries.
LOLLIPOP
But sure, we can be giving and generous. It is the Holiday season after all. So I propose a toast, ladies.
She grabs her glass of JD & Coke and raises it.
LOLLIPOP
To Friendship.
CARRIE & HEIDI IN UNISON
To Friendship!
They all have a good chug.
LOLLIPOP
So Marci & Serenity, let our match be a true festival of friendship. And when it’s all said and done, the smoke has cleared and the dust has settled, you can enjoy your night together as friends... in twin hospital beds!
The three girls laugh.
TRIO
SEASON’S BEATINGS!
We cut the feed, and head to yet another advertising break for more upcoming SplatTV content.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
The view shows catering and the impressive spread of a buffet that looks like it might rival the one in the casino proper. MADDI "SKITTLES" BROOKS walks into view, her blue hair still damp from the shower and she's back in her street clothes. She pauses to look at the monitor, seeing the last few moments of the match between SAW & Kendrick Kross. Cringing, she sees both of them impact with the barrier and turns away as though watching that carnage brings up a bad memory. That's when she realizes that she's not alone. Standing next to the table with a drooping slice of pizza in his hand, is none other than CARNIVORE.
SKITTLES
Oh. Hi.
CARNIVORE
I like your hair.
SKITTLES
How do you even eat with that-
They both speak at the same time, breaking off and laughing. A few pieces of pineapple fall off the pizza slice and Carnivore nonchalantly picks them up off the table, putting them back on top of the cheese before folding it in half to keep it from happening again.
CARNIVORE
I'll show you the secret of the mask, but you've got to promise to take it to the grave.
SKITTLES
You've got a deal!
The blue-haired newcomer nods enthusiastically before following when the Cult Leader turns and walks away swiftly in the opposite direction. Neither of them notice that they're being watched by someone sitting on a chair in the shadows. When he gets up, tossing an empty Styrofoam coffee cup in the trash, his face is visible for a moment: it's none other than the legendary Scott Nash Strader!
TAG TEAM MATCH
SUPER ULTRA FRIENDSHIP GANG vs THE CRUSH
In the second of our tag team bouts, both the Super Ultra Friendship Gang and The Crush seem pumped and excited – the crowd does too and they let out a huge pop as Marni and Serenity meet Carrie and Lollipop in the center of the ring for handshakes. Heidi Austin throws up a high five for her opponents before her and Lollipop head for the apron, discussing strategy while their trusted manager Jeeves stands at ringside, hands behind his back like a proper gentleman: perfect posture, neutral expression and, of course, immaculate sense of fashion. It’s off to a quick start as Carrie offers Serenity a test of strength. Gray obliges and the two women lock up, snarling and groaning and doing their best before Carrie drops a boot to Gray’s foot, acting as if she stumbled. Gray steps back gingerly and Carrie makes a huge show of apologizing, offering her another go. Gray disagrees so Carrie asks her to pick a hand. She picks the left and Carrie punches her with the right. Another go, and Gray picks right so Carrie slaps her with the left. Third time’s the charm? Gray picks right again but Carrie Cane headbutts her for her troubles. Marni voices her displeasure from the apron as Lollipop cheers Carrie on. As Carrie tries to explain that she slipped again, that there must be something wrong with the canvas, Serenity frowns and dives to her corner for a hot tag to Marni – shotgun dropkick and Carrie scuttles to The Crush’s corner and tags in Lollipop while Marni soaks up some love from the crowd before gesturing for Lollipop to ‘bring it’.
As the Scot stomps her way into the ring, she is something fierce to behold: it’s like Glencoe Massacre and Highland Games rolled up to one crass lass and she’s reading Marni the riot act as she comes. Nobody seems to have any idea what she’s saying, yet the boo birds in the crowd assume it’s nothing good. Marni does what she does best: putting on a show using her speed and all four corners for the ring to launch a quick succession assaults to Lollipop who seems to have a hard time keeping her temper and her opponent’s location in check. She lunges at Marni a few times, missing, growing angrier by the moment. Finally, when Lollipop crashes to the corner, Marni goes for the Fatality (curb stomp to the bottom turnbuckle) but luckily before the boot impacts, she’s pushed back. Carrie Cane apologizes profusely to Ref Stef for the interference, claiming her boots are slippery. Marni tells her off and Lollipop mouths profanity before turning up the heat on Blake for her choice to focus on the ‘clumsiness’ of her partner rather than Lollipop herself. She nails some rapid elbow shots to the face, while Serenity is pumping up the crowd, yelling for her friend to tag her in. Victorious, Lollipop roars out as Marni drops limp and seemingly unconscious into the corner. However, while Lollipop marches around beating her chest, her opponent slumps down deeper. Marni manages to slip from between Lollipop’s legs and darts to her corner, tagging in Serenity who uses her power and size to take down the loud and proud Lollipop. Super Ultra Friendship Gang realizes their chance, they look at one another and Serenity picks Lollipop up on her shoulders as Gray gets in position on the top turnbuckle – HOLY SHIT DOOMSDAY DEVICE! Marni’s flying clothesline connects, and Lollipop falls from Serenity’s shoulders into the arms of Heidi Austin who manages to get behind Serenity in the nick of time. As Serenity tumbles down she knocks down Heidi as well but that softens Lollipop’s landing; she stumbles and tumbles to the corner for Carrie to tag herself back in.
It’s sheer chaos as Blake helps Gray up and they both look at Heidi who holds up her hands dismissively and starts backing to her corner. Carrie is hopping up and down, demanding that she wants Gray and she wants her now. Blake shrugs, getting out of the ring as Gray heads for the still angered Mancunian. As she makes it to her, Carrie holds up her palm with a smirk to Heidi who tags herself in. Freshest of the competitors, Heidi Austin happily unleashes some CHOP-CHOP (massive chops) on Gray, who manages to stay upright. With a smile, Heidi grabs her for The Squeeze (bearhug) locking it in tight and while Blake screams for her partner, Serenity Gray is starting to fade. Gray fights valiantly, but she goes limp and Heidi drops her and puts a finger to her lips to silence the crowd. You could hear a pin drop when the Texas native goes for Crushsault (standing moonsault)! We see the shock in Marni Blake’s face as Heidi hits her finisher before rolling up Gray for a pin. Referee drops down for the count and Lollipop intercepts to make sure there’s no help to be found.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): THE CRUSH
Post match, Carrie and Lollipop are beside themselves, hugging and jumping with excitement for their win. Heidi looks over at her joyous friends and smiles at Jeeves; the stoic Englishman gives her a small nod, which must have been high praise because Heidi can't stop grinning.
Blake comes in to check on Gray and Heidi offers help. Together they help Serenity to her feet and Heidi shakes both of their hands, saying some words of encouragement before Lollipop and Carrie come in and while the crowd gets restless, expecting a blow up, all of them shake hands. The Super Ultra Friendship Gang exits the ring to the crowd's enthusiastic cheers while The Crush stays put, celebrating their inaugural win.
SKITTLES
Oh. Hi.
CARNIVORE
I like your hair.
SKITTLES
How do you even eat with that-
They both speak at the same time, breaking off and laughing. A few pieces of pineapple fall off the pizza slice and Carnivore nonchalantly picks them up off the table, putting them back on top of the cheese before folding it in half to keep it from happening again.
CARNIVORE
I'll show you the secret of the mask, but you've got to promise to take it to the grave.
SKITTLES
You've got a deal!
The blue-haired newcomer nods enthusiastically before following when the Cult Leader turns and walks away swiftly in the opposite direction. Neither of them notice that they're being watched by someone sitting on a chair in the shadows. When he gets up, tossing an empty Styrofoam coffee cup in the trash, his face is visible for a moment: it's none other than the legendary Scott Nash Strader!
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
TAG TEAM MATCH
SUPER ULTRA FRIENDSHIP GANG vs THE CRUSH
In the second of our tag team bouts, both the Super Ultra Friendship Gang and The Crush seem pumped and excited – the crowd does too and they let out a huge pop as Marni and Serenity meet Carrie and Lollipop in the center of the ring for handshakes. Heidi Austin throws up a high five for her opponents before her and Lollipop head for the apron, discussing strategy while their trusted manager Jeeves stands at ringside, hands behind his back like a proper gentleman: perfect posture, neutral expression and, of course, immaculate sense of fashion. It’s off to a quick start as Carrie offers Serenity a test of strength. Gray obliges and the two women lock up, snarling and groaning and doing their best before Carrie drops a boot to Gray’s foot, acting as if she stumbled. Gray steps back gingerly and Carrie makes a huge show of apologizing, offering her another go. Gray disagrees so Carrie asks her to pick a hand. She picks the left and Carrie punches her with the right. Another go, and Gray picks right so Carrie slaps her with the left. Third time’s the charm? Gray picks right again but Carrie Cane headbutts her for her troubles. Marni voices her displeasure from the apron as Lollipop cheers Carrie on. As Carrie tries to explain that she slipped again, that there must be something wrong with the canvas, Serenity frowns and dives to her corner for a hot tag to Marni – shotgun dropkick and Carrie scuttles to The Crush’s corner and tags in Lollipop while Marni soaks up some love from the crowd before gesturing for Lollipop to ‘bring it’.
As the Scot stomps her way into the ring, she is something fierce to behold: it’s like Glencoe Massacre and Highland Games rolled up to one crass lass and she’s reading Marni the riot act as she comes. Nobody seems to have any idea what she’s saying, yet the boo birds in the crowd assume it’s nothing good. Marni does what she does best: putting on a show using her speed and all four corners for the ring to launch a quick succession assaults to Lollipop who seems to have a hard time keeping her temper and her opponent’s location in check. She lunges at Marni a few times, missing, growing angrier by the moment. Finally, when Lollipop crashes to the corner, Marni goes for the Fatality (curb stomp to the bottom turnbuckle) but luckily before the boot impacts, she’s pushed back. Carrie Cane apologizes profusely to Ref Stef for the interference, claiming her boots are slippery. Marni tells her off and Lollipop mouths profanity before turning up the heat on Blake for her choice to focus on the ‘clumsiness’ of her partner rather than Lollipop herself. She nails some rapid elbow shots to the face, while Serenity is pumping up the crowd, yelling for her friend to tag her in. Victorious, Lollipop roars out as Marni drops limp and seemingly unconscious into the corner. However, while Lollipop marches around beating her chest, her opponent slumps down deeper. Marni manages to slip from between Lollipop’s legs and darts to her corner, tagging in Serenity who uses her power and size to take down the loud and proud Lollipop. Super Ultra Friendship Gang realizes their chance, they look at one another and Serenity picks Lollipop up on her shoulders as Gray gets in position on the top turnbuckle – HOLY SHIT DOOMSDAY DEVICE! Marni’s flying clothesline connects, and Lollipop falls from Serenity’s shoulders into the arms of Heidi Austin who manages to get behind Serenity in the nick of time. As Serenity tumbles down she knocks down Heidi as well but that softens Lollipop’s landing; she stumbles and tumbles to the corner for Carrie to tag herself back in.
It’s sheer chaos as Blake helps Gray up and they both look at Heidi who holds up her hands dismissively and starts backing to her corner. Carrie is hopping up and down, demanding that she wants Gray and she wants her now. Blake shrugs, getting out of the ring as Gray heads for the still angered Mancunian. As she makes it to her, Carrie holds up her palm with a smirk to Heidi who tags herself in. Freshest of the competitors, Heidi Austin happily unleashes some CHOP-CHOP (massive chops) on Gray, who manages to stay upright. With a smile, Heidi grabs her for The Squeeze (bearhug) locking it in tight and while Blake screams for her partner, Serenity Gray is starting to fade. Gray fights valiantly, but she goes limp and Heidi drops her and puts a finger to her lips to silence the crowd. You could hear a pin drop when the Texas native goes for Crushsault (standing moonsault)! We see the shock in Marni Blake’s face as Heidi hits her finisher before rolling up Gray for a pin. Referee drops down for the count and Lollipop intercepts to make sure there’s no help to be found.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): THE CRUSH
Post match, Carrie and Lollipop are beside themselves, hugging and jumping with excitement for their win. Heidi looks over at her joyous friends and smiles at Jeeves; the stoic Englishman gives her a small nod, which must have been high praise because Heidi can't stop grinning.
Blake comes in to check on Gray and Heidi offers help. Together they help Serenity to her feet and Heidi shakes both of their hands, saying some words of encouragement before Lollipop and Carrie come in and while the crowd gets restless, expecting a blow up, all of them shake hands. The Super Ultra Friendship Gang exits the ring to the crowd's enthusiastic cheers while The Crush stays put, celebrating their inaugural win.
CUT TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN RENO
We are taken to the hotel of the Williams family where we are blessed with the image of TODD WILLIAMS, decked out in a smart three-piece suit and tie. He smiles as he looks over at his wife, eyes roving up and down with appreciation over how she looks in her tight mini skirt and small top.
TODD WILLIAMS
Ladies and gentlemen I give to you... THE hottest woman to step inside of not just the UPRISING ring but ANY wrestling ring, ANYWHERE. Please welcome, my smoking hot and lusciously beautiful wife Hope W-
HOPE WILLIAMS places a single finger on Todd’s lips as she looks deep into his eyes. She can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head before looking into the camera.
HOPE WILLIAMS
You are officially watching another tale of HOPES AND DREAMS. Tonight you all get to see yours truly invading your television sets.
TODD WILLIAMS
Baby, you know the show's not on cable, right?
She rolls her eyes and continues as if he hasn't said a word.
HOPE WILLIAMS
I know you've all been bored to tears so far, waiting to see the hottest thing to ever appear on television-
TODD WILLIAMS
...or a streaming network...
HOPE WILLIAMS
I know it was also a bunch of bullshit to see that things didn’t go so well for me in my MAIN EVENT DEBUT on the last show, but let me make something clear: you honestly think I care about not winning some stupid little scramble match like that? You honestly think I give a fuck about not being able to win in a match?!
TODD WILLIAMS
Not really, right babe?!
Hope chuckles in return.
HOPE WILLIAMS
Of course not, because at the end of the day I know for a fact that I am still the hottest woman in all of the company. I know I haven't been tweeting as much and I know all of you twats must be quick to assume that means that I don’t give a fuck about this match against Savannah Andrews or whoever.
Todd taps her on the shoulder, lifting up his phone to show her the card. She takes that in for a few seconds and then a smirk spreads across her lips.
HOPE WILLIAMS
I barely have time to post photos of myself looking amazing outside of all my photo shoots, corporate meetings and all the other things on my busy schedule! It's hard being me. I mean living off of that Proctor and Gamble inheritance is really trying sometimes but being me is also harder. Let’s not forget that Todd and I have an infant that we take care of too so don’t expect the greatest MILF ever to be able to answer everybody’s beck and call. I mean, it's not like I'm Logan Lewis, still living at home with mommy and daddy and the Justin Bieber posters on the wall.
TODD WILLIAMS
Preach!
HOPE WILLIAMS
A lot of people wish they could get five minutes of my time and that’s just not the case. I am a busy woman doing so many busy things.
Hope laughs as she continues to speak.
HOPE WILLIAMS
Anyway, do I really need to care about what’s going to happen in this coming match?
He waves his hands like a Southern Baptist preacher on Sunday morning, echoing her rhetorical question.
TODD WILLIAMS
Does she need to care?!
HOPE WILLIAMS
I'm teaming with Savannah and everyone knows she's a complete waste of fucking space!
Hope shakes her head as she speaks some more.
HOPE WILLIAMS
And on top of that I have to go up against a Canadian fuckwit who has a habit of running his mouth, begging for someone to shut him up. Literally the worst. The only good thing about this whole ordeal is that I get to have a French-
TODD WILLIAMS
He’s French! You don’t have to say anything else about that fact…
HOPE WILLIAMS
Once I get past this match, hopefully the days of being in these multi-cluster matches will be over. I am a high class girl, after all. I prefer not to have too many hands on me…
She winks at Todd and wraps her hand around his tie before turning around and using it to pull him off camera, her last words coming from offscreen.
HOPE WILLIAMS
See you, LOSERS!
_____________________________________________
TODD WILLIAMS
Ladies and gentlemen I give to you... THE hottest woman to step inside of not just the UPRISING ring but ANY wrestling ring, ANYWHERE. Please welcome, my smoking hot and lusciously beautiful wife Hope W-
HOPE WILLIAMS places a single finger on Todd’s lips as she looks deep into his eyes. She can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head before looking into the camera.
HOPE WILLIAMS
You are officially watching another tale of HOPES AND DREAMS. Tonight you all get to see yours truly invading your television sets.
TODD WILLIAMS
Baby, you know the show's not on cable, right?
She rolls her eyes and continues as if he hasn't said a word.
HOPE WILLIAMS
I know you've all been bored to tears so far, waiting to see the hottest thing to ever appear on television-
TODD WILLIAMS
...or a streaming network...
HOPE WILLIAMS
I know it was also a bunch of bullshit to see that things didn’t go so well for me in my MAIN EVENT DEBUT on the last show, but let me make something clear: you honestly think I care about not winning some stupid little scramble match like that? You honestly think I give a fuck about not being able to win in a match?!
TODD WILLIAMS
Not really, right babe?!
Hope chuckles in return.
HOPE WILLIAMS
Of course not, because at the end of the day I know for a fact that I am still the hottest woman in all of the company. I know I haven't been tweeting as much and I know all of you twats must be quick to assume that means that I don’t give a fuck about this match against Savannah Andrews or whoever.
Todd taps her on the shoulder, lifting up his phone to show her the card. She takes that in for a few seconds and then a smirk spreads across her lips.
HOPE WILLIAMS
I barely have time to post photos of myself looking amazing outside of all my photo shoots, corporate meetings and all the other things on my busy schedule! It's hard being me. I mean living off of that Proctor and Gamble inheritance is really trying sometimes but being me is also harder. Let’s not forget that Todd and I have an infant that we take care of too so don’t expect the greatest MILF ever to be able to answer everybody’s beck and call. I mean, it's not like I'm Logan Lewis, still living at home with mommy and daddy and the Justin Bieber posters on the wall.
TODD WILLIAMS
Preach!
HOPE WILLIAMS
A lot of people wish they could get five minutes of my time and that’s just not the case. I am a busy woman doing so many busy things.
Hope laughs as she continues to speak.
HOPE WILLIAMS
Anyway, do I really need to care about what’s going to happen in this coming match?
He waves his hands like a Southern Baptist preacher on Sunday morning, echoing her rhetorical question.
TODD WILLIAMS
Does she need to care?!
HOPE WILLIAMS
I'm teaming with Savannah and everyone knows she's a complete waste of fucking space!
Hope shakes her head as she speaks some more.
HOPE WILLIAMS
And on top of that I have to go up against a Canadian fuckwit who has a habit of running his mouth, begging for someone to shut him up. Literally the worst. The only good thing about this whole ordeal is that I get to have a French-
TODD WILLIAMS
He’s French! You don’t have to say anything else about that fact…
HOPE WILLIAMS
Once I get past this match, hopefully the days of being in these multi-cluster matches will be over. I am a high class girl, after all. I prefer not to have too many hands on me…
She winks at Todd and wraps her hand around his tie before turning around and using it to pull him off camera, her last words coming from offscreen.
HOPE WILLIAMS
See you, LOSERS!
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- BACKSTAGE
SAVANNAH ANDREWS stands in front of a monitor, watching the show unfold before her as she warms up for her upcoming tag match. Left arm crosses her chest, while the right arm crosses over it promptly in a stretch. GRETCHEN DEVEREAUX approaches with a small smile, as Savannah slowly turns her gaze towards the blonde with a brow arched. She drops her arms to her side, a low groan escaping her as her eyes roll slightly.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
What do you want, Gretchen?
GRETCHEN DEVEREAUX
A quick word, hopefully? I promise not to take up too much of your time.
Savannah sighs momentarily, arms crossing over the black leather and lace top of her gear as she shakes her head slightly.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Fine, snap snap.
Gretchen shuffles to stand beside Savannah, leaving some space between them as a smile crosses her lips. Microphone held firmly in her grasp as turns towards Savannah.
GRETCHEN DEVEREAUX
Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the one and only… Savannah Andrews. Now, Savannah. You were once a huge fan favorite across a few companies and last week, we witnessed a newer side of you that some may have not seen before. Where did this all come from?
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
A newer side? Please, if anything, I’m exactly who I am supposed to be. I always did everything for everyone else. I always did everything to please the fans and what did that get me? Absolutely nowhere. I was nothing but a naïve little girl. Now? I’m something much better. I’m no longer doing things for everyone else. This is who I was meant to be all along.
Savannah smirks slightly, head tilting a bit as she pops a lollipop into her mouth. She crumples the wrapper up, flicking it haphazardly in Gretchen’s direction. As the interviewer is trying to think of a follow up to that, she notices something behind Savannah, or rather, someone as the camera pans out a bit to show one of Savannah’s opponents on the night, MATT STONE.
MATT STONE
I don’t know if it’s the newer side or the older side, but whatever one I’m looking at, I like it.
Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s talking about as he’s standing behind the blonde wrestler. As Gretchen slowly backs away from the scene, Savannah whips around to spot Matt Stone. Eyes narrowing in a slight glare as she glances at him.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Have I mentioned I hate you? No? Well, now I did! What could you possibly want right now? Can’t you see I was in the middle of something?
Matt nods and reaches into the pocket of his dress pants, pulling out a Caramilk bar.
MATT STONE
I just came to give you this, that’s all. A little pre-match gift to signal no hard feelings, ya know? But I guess if you hate me, you don’t really want it, right?
Savannah eyes him suspiciously, eyes lighting up at the sight of chocolate. She lets out a small squeal, before quickly recovering. A small noise of clearing her throat.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
… Is this a trap? I feel like this is a trap. I’m not really supposed to take candy from strange men. But, it is chocolate… Decisions, decisions.
Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he retracts the hand holding the candy bar.
MATT STONE
Would you feel better about it if I ate a bite first? I don’t want you thinking I was trying to poison you, you remember our conversation on Twitter last week about that; it’s in the contract!
Savannah scrunches her nose slightly, much akin to a bunny. A small pout splays across plush lips as she quickly reaches out for the chocolate bar.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
No! I… I mean. Ahem. I would… like the chocolate. I think I’ve earned it after getting punched with brass knuckles.
Matt raises his eyebrow at that response, trying to work out the logic of what she had just said and getting nowhere.
MATT STONE
If a candy bar makes up for getting punched in the face, you must have pretty high standards of a candy bar! I would have said you earned it with that cute nose thing you just did, but what do I know?
A gentle blush crept across her cheeks as Savannah takes a moment to pull herself together. Clutching the chocolate bar in her grasp, she glances at Matt for a moment.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Candy is kind of my thing. Sweets, in general. Well… It was. Before all of this. But, it’s still my soft spot… Why am I saying this?!
MATT STONE
You’re not telling me anything the lollipop in your mouth didn’t already give away to be fair. Though don’t think that I’m a sucker and am going to let you walk all over me in the ring out there, it’s all business in the ring, but you know that, don’t you? How did the saying go...mwaha or something?
Savannah rolls her eyes, one hand on her hip as she tilts her head slightly. She pops the strawberry lollipop to the opposite side of her mouth before taking a few steps closer towards him.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Business is business. Just like last show was business. Don’t take it personal if I decide to rip your arms off and beat you in the head with them.
She gives a sickeningly sweet smile, before stepping just a bit closer. A bit of space between them as she tilts her head cutely.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
The word you’re looking for is mwah, by the way. Like a kiss!
Matt doesn’t back down when she gets closer to him, standing his ground, eyes locking on to hers.
MATT STONE
Well as much as I appreciate the kiss, I think it’s best you save that for after the match so you can kiss any boo-boos you may have.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
I kiss my own boo-boos! Wait, no, I don’t, actually… But, I could! If I wanted to! You might need a nurse though and a good couple of ice packs.
A smirk slowly spreads across his face as he brings his right hand up and gently pokes the tip of her nose.
MATT STONE
Boop.
She stares, blinking slightly when he pokes the tip of her nose. Eyes crossing momentarily before she locks eyes with him again.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Good luck, loser!
She blows a kiss towards him, grinning before she skips away, hands crossed in front of her properly. Matt can’t help but smile as she skips away, shaking his head.
MATT STONE
I’m not a loser... I AM NOT A LOSER!
STRANGE BEDFELLOWS TAG TEAM MATCH
MATT STONE & GASTON GILLET vs HOPE WILLIAMS & SAVANNAH ANDREWS
The match begins with Hope and Gaston in the ring. They circle one another and lock up in the middle of the ring. Gaston instantly gets an advantage, driving Hope into the ropes and whipping her across the ring to the opposite ropes, meeting her in the middle with a big boot! He postures to the crowd, before bouncing off the ropes himself and dropping a big French elbow across Hope’s sternum!
He gets up, jubilant and goes to tag in Matt Stone who...has retrieved his phone from God only knows where. He browses Twitter with an intense focus, looking up long enough to shoo Gaston away and give him an "encouraging" thumbs-up. Gaston looks confused, but gives a big friendly grin as he turns around to be on the receiving end of forearm shivers from Hope who has gotten to her feet! She goes to whip Gaston to her corner, but Gaston reverses it and sends her careening into her corner! She impacts hard with the turnbuckle, and falls back, trying to catch her breath.
She reaches up for a tag but Savannah just stares at her, clearly annoyed before rolling her eyes and tagging herself in. She regards Hope with some disdain before turning her attention to Gaston. Gaston swings wide with another clothesline but Savannah ducks under it, nailing Gaston with a dropkick as he turns that sends the big man stumbling into the ropes. He comes back swinging a wild haymaker but once again, Savannah ducks the blow and this time nails Gaston with a chop block before running off the ropes and hitting the big man in the face with a running dropkick! Gaston rolls onto his stomach, crawling to his corner but freezes when he notices something that Matt Stone has missed with his face buried in his mentions. Standing on the apron with him, having snuck in through the crowd is Matthew Knox. The fans pop as they notice the veteran, causing Stone to look out. He gets out a "What Th--" before Knox nails him in the face with a step up enziguri, knocking him from the apron!
Matt Stone crashes on the floor outside, scrambling to his feet as Knox leaps from the apron and nails him with a flying leg lariat!! He sets to continue his attack, but Savannah has launched herself over the top rope, nailing Knox with a suicide dive! Her and Matt Stone begin to stomp on Knox, who does his best to fight back to a vertical base! Hope slides out of the ring, and spins Savannah around! She gets in her face over her grievances with their teamwork (or lack thereof). As Savannah and Hope get heated, Knox and Stone continue their brawl to the back! The fans have come unglued! Gaston, being the nice guy he is, has come to the outside and tries to separate Savannah and Hope! Hope's husband Todd has come over! The fans suddenly go an octave higher, as "The Answer" JC hops over the barrier from the crowd, staring down the happy little group!
Gaston turns around and is instantly nailed in the face with The Big Boot of Death! Hope is stunned still, as Savannah thinks better and retreats up the ramp to fight another day! JC stares down the married couple! Hope becomes indignant, and gets in JC’s face, throwing a punch into his jaw! This only causes the big veteran to grin as he lifts her into a fireman’s carry! Carrying Hope on his shoulders, he nails Todd with The Big Boot of Death as well! Then with a yell, hits Hope with the Solitaire Unraveling on the outside! JC stands and raises his arms in the air as the fans go insane!
WINNER: NO CONTEST
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
What do you want, Gretchen?
GRETCHEN DEVEREAUX
A quick word, hopefully? I promise not to take up too much of your time.
Savannah sighs momentarily, arms crossing over the black leather and lace top of her gear as she shakes her head slightly.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Fine, snap snap.
Gretchen shuffles to stand beside Savannah, leaving some space between them as a smile crosses her lips. Microphone held firmly in her grasp as turns towards Savannah.
GRETCHEN DEVEREAUX
Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the one and only… Savannah Andrews. Now, Savannah. You were once a huge fan favorite across a few companies and last week, we witnessed a newer side of you that some may have not seen before. Where did this all come from?
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
A newer side? Please, if anything, I’m exactly who I am supposed to be. I always did everything for everyone else. I always did everything to please the fans and what did that get me? Absolutely nowhere. I was nothing but a naïve little girl. Now? I’m something much better. I’m no longer doing things for everyone else. This is who I was meant to be all along.
Savannah smirks slightly, head tilting a bit as she pops a lollipop into her mouth. She crumples the wrapper up, flicking it haphazardly in Gretchen’s direction. As the interviewer is trying to think of a follow up to that, she notices something behind Savannah, or rather, someone as the camera pans out a bit to show one of Savannah’s opponents on the night, MATT STONE.
MATT STONE
I don’t know if it’s the newer side or the older side, but whatever one I’m looking at, I like it.
Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s talking about as he’s standing behind the blonde wrestler. As Gretchen slowly backs away from the scene, Savannah whips around to spot Matt Stone. Eyes narrowing in a slight glare as she glances at him.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Have I mentioned I hate you? No? Well, now I did! What could you possibly want right now? Can’t you see I was in the middle of something?
Matt nods and reaches into the pocket of his dress pants, pulling out a Caramilk bar.
MATT STONE
I just came to give you this, that’s all. A little pre-match gift to signal no hard feelings, ya know? But I guess if you hate me, you don’t really want it, right?
Savannah eyes him suspiciously, eyes lighting up at the sight of chocolate. She lets out a small squeal, before quickly recovering. A small noise of clearing her throat.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
… Is this a trap? I feel like this is a trap. I’m not really supposed to take candy from strange men. But, it is chocolate… Decisions, decisions.
Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he retracts the hand holding the candy bar.
MATT STONE
Would you feel better about it if I ate a bite first? I don’t want you thinking I was trying to poison you, you remember our conversation on Twitter last week about that; it’s in the contract!
Savannah scrunches her nose slightly, much akin to a bunny. A small pout splays across plush lips as she quickly reaches out for the chocolate bar.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
No! I… I mean. Ahem. I would… like the chocolate. I think I’ve earned it after getting punched with brass knuckles.
Matt raises his eyebrow at that response, trying to work out the logic of what she had just said and getting nowhere.
MATT STONE
If a candy bar makes up for getting punched in the face, you must have pretty high standards of a candy bar! I would have said you earned it with that cute nose thing you just did, but what do I know?
A gentle blush crept across her cheeks as Savannah takes a moment to pull herself together. Clutching the chocolate bar in her grasp, she glances at Matt for a moment.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Candy is kind of my thing. Sweets, in general. Well… It was. Before all of this. But, it’s still my soft spot… Why am I saying this?!
MATT STONE
You’re not telling me anything the lollipop in your mouth didn’t already give away to be fair. Though don’t think that I’m a sucker and am going to let you walk all over me in the ring out there, it’s all business in the ring, but you know that, don’t you? How did the saying go...mwaha or something?
Savannah rolls her eyes, one hand on her hip as she tilts her head slightly. She pops the strawberry lollipop to the opposite side of her mouth before taking a few steps closer towards him.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Business is business. Just like last show was business. Don’t take it personal if I decide to rip your arms off and beat you in the head with them.
She gives a sickeningly sweet smile, before stepping just a bit closer. A bit of space between them as she tilts her head cutely.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
The word you’re looking for is mwah, by the way. Like a kiss!
Matt doesn’t back down when she gets closer to him, standing his ground, eyes locking on to hers.
MATT STONE
Well as much as I appreciate the kiss, I think it’s best you save that for after the match so you can kiss any boo-boos you may have.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
I kiss my own boo-boos! Wait, no, I don’t, actually… But, I could! If I wanted to! You might need a nurse though and a good couple of ice packs.
A smirk slowly spreads across his face as he brings his right hand up and gently pokes the tip of her nose.
MATT STONE
Boop.
She stares, blinking slightly when he pokes the tip of her nose. Eyes crossing momentarily before she locks eyes with him again.
SAVANNAH ANDREWS
Good luck, loser!
She blows a kiss towards him, grinning before she skips away, hands crossed in front of her properly. Matt can’t help but smile as she skips away, shaking his head.
MATT STONE
I’m not a loser... I AM NOT A LOSER!
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
STRANGE BEDFELLOWS TAG TEAM MATCH
MATT STONE & GASTON GILLET vs HOPE WILLIAMS & SAVANNAH ANDREWS
The match begins with Hope and Gaston in the ring. They circle one another and lock up in the middle of the ring. Gaston instantly gets an advantage, driving Hope into the ropes and whipping her across the ring to the opposite ropes, meeting her in the middle with a big boot! He postures to the crowd, before bouncing off the ropes himself and dropping a big French elbow across Hope’s sternum!
He gets up, jubilant and goes to tag in Matt Stone who...has retrieved his phone from God only knows where. He browses Twitter with an intense focus, looking up long enough to shoo Gaston away and give him an "encouraging" thumbs-up. Gaston looks confused, but gives a big friendly grin as he turns around to be on the receiving end of forearm shivers from Hope who has gotten to her feet! She goes to whip Gaston to her corner, but Gaston reverses it and sends her careening into her corner! She impacts hard with the turnbuckle, and falls back, trying to catch her breath.
She reaches up for a tag but Savannah just stares at her, clearly annoyed before rolling her eyes and tagging herself in. She regards Hope with some disdain before turning her attention to Gaston. Gaston swings wide with another clothesline but Savannah ducks under it, nailing Gaston with a dropkick as he turns that sends the big man stumbling into the ropes. He comes back swinging a wild haymaker but once again, Savannah ducks the blow and this time nails Gaston with a chop block before running off the ropes and hitting the big man in the face with a running dropkick! Gaston rolls onto his stomach, crawling to his corner but freezes when he notices something that Matt Stone has missed with his face buried in his mentions. Standing on the apron with him, having snuck in through the crowd is Matthew Knox. The fans pop as they notice the veteran, causing Stone to look out. He gets out a "What Th--" before Knox nails him in the face with a step up enziguri, knocking him from the apron!
Matt Stone crashes on the floor outside, scrambling to his feet as Knox leaps from the apron and nails him with a flying leg lariat!! He sets to continue his attack, but Savannah has launched herself over the top rope, nailing Knox with a suicide dive! Her and Matt Stone begin to stomp on Knox, who does his best to fight back to a vertical base! Hope slides out of the ring, and spins Savannah around! She gets in her face over her grievances with their teamwork (or lack thereof). As Savannah and Hope get heated, Knox and Stone continue their brawl to the back! The fans have come unglued! Gaston, being the nice guy he is, has come to the outside and tries to separate Savannah and Hope! Hope's husband Todd has come over! The fans suddenly go an octave higher, as "The Answer" JC hops over the barrier from the crowd, staring down the happy little group!
Gaston turns around and is instantly nailed in the face with The Big Boot of Death! Hope is stunned still, as Savannah thinks better and retreats up the ramp to fight another day! JC stares down the married couple! Hope becomes indignant, and gets in JC’s face, throwing a punch into his jaw! This only causes the big veteran to grin as he lifts her into a fireman’s carry! Carrying Hope on his shoulders, he nails Todd with The Big Boot of Death as well! Then with a yell, hits Hope with the Solitaire Unraveling on the outside! JC stands and raises his arms in the air as the fans go insane!
WINNER: NO CONTEST
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
MICHAEL MAROU
It’s just about that time, Luthie.
The darkness resolves to show MICHAEL MAROU as he looks deeply into the camera. For all his playful banter and joking on Twitter, it’s clear he’s taking this seriously. Of course he always takes work seriously.
MICHAEL MAROU
Are you ready? I’ve been ready since the moment the match was announced.
His voice barely above a whisper, he clenches his teeth as he speaks. He carries the Valiant Chaos Title over his shoulder, if for no other reason then to let people know he is in fact championship material.
MICHAEL MAROU
I’ve been ready since the moment I signed my name on the dotted line for Uprising. And what have I gotten for it? Doubt. Every match I’ve stepped in thus far, my opponent boldly and proudly claimed there was no way in hell I was winning the match. Kross. Mosh. And now Luther. What else have I gotten? Bet against.
He snarls a bit as he talks, obviously allowing the word of his peers fuel his anger. With his patented "Fuck Failure" shirt and black shorts adorning his body, he speaks each word as if it was carefully chosen.
MICHAEL MAROU
The odds aren’t in my favor. The bookies just aren’t seeing me walk out with the W tonight, are they Don? See I’m not much of a gambler but you liked to place your bets, don’t ya Big Daddy? And you’re betting against me. Luther, you’re advising me to not bet on myself; claiming it would be a mistake. How fuckin’ rich.
He’s seething now, angry at all those who have doubted and bet against him. In fact, the only one on the Uprising roster that seems to have any faith in him is Logan Lewis.
MICHAEL MAROU
And lastly I’ve earned flat out disrespect. Yeah, Thunder, I know you started out by saying there could be a mutual respect between us. Started out saying things didn’t have to take that ugly turn. We could show respect for one another and at the end of the night, the better man will walk away victorious and the lesser man will congratulate him and leave him to his celebrations.
Michael’s trademark smirk spreads thinly across his lips as he stands in front of the Uprising backdrop in the backstage area. Fire burns in his eyes as he continues his monologue.
MICHAEL MAROU
But you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain, did you? Nah, you watched that first video I put out and you immediately twisted my words and even claimed that I said shit that I never said. Puttin' words in my mouth, because you know the words I really spoke were true.
Michael takes a deep breath, not wanting to get too heated. Of course most of his aggression right now was manufactured by hyping himself up with loud music and getting himself in the right frame of mind. But manufactured aggression will still go just as far in that ring.
MICHAEL MAROU
See, I do respect you, Luther. I feel like I’ve said this a hundred times, and I can say it 'til I’m blue in the face. I know exactly what you’re capable of. I know I’m not walking into a goddamn cakewalk. I’m walking into what just might be my hardest fought match of my career, definitely my hardest match in Uprising. But I would still wager a lot more than Don Tirri is willing to put up that I’ll walk out of this match victorious. It’s not a slight on you, Thunder. I’m just that fuckin’ good. You think I’d walk around here claiming to be god-tier talent if I didn’t have what it takes to back it up?
He shrugs, knowing it’s a baseless rhetorical question. Of course plenty of wrestlers claim to be way better then they really are. At this point, Michael taps on his Chaos title.
MICHAEL MAROU
And this right here... oh I’ve heard the whispers. People questioning why I would bring my title from another promotion into videos where I’m promoting this one. People telling me my accomplishments in other places don’t mean jack shit here in Reno. And to a point, I’ll agree with that. But you gotta consider what this title means. Over in Los Angeles, this title means I’m a goddamn champion. I’m one of the best in that federation. But here in Reno... it means somethin a little bit different. Let me elaborate.
He pulls the Chaos title off his shoulder and holds it up to the camera, almost as if he’s shoving it in the face of every viewer watching at home and in the backstage. With a grimace, he continues his rant.
MICHAEL MAROU
See, ever since I’ve came back to wrestling earlier this year, I’ve faced the same three things I mentioned earlier. Doubt, bet against, and disrespect. And Jesus Christ, has the disrespect been abundant. I’ve been verbally attacked with targets on my appearance, my intelligence and my overall in-ring ability. I’ve had sophomoric insults thrown my way, calling me stupid shit like ‘Minecraft Steve’ and ‘block head.’ I’ve been overlooked as nothing more than a dumbass meat head incapable of stringing together a coherent thought merely because I spend a lot of time sculpting my body. And every single time I step in the ring, I got an opponent telling me there’s no chance in hell that I’m gonna win. But the funny thing is, for all that disrespect and doubt, I still keep winning. I can count on one hand the amount of time I’ve been pinned since I came back to wrestling this year. And that’s over a span of around five months in four different companies. That’s what this belt symbolizes.
Michael continues on, hardly pausing to breathe as his spits out this ‘truth’ (or at least his version of the truth). But as he speaks, his voice grows angrier to the point where he’s damn near yelling at the camera.
MICHAEL MAROU
Regardless of the company, and regardless of the doubt and disrespect slung my way, I keep. On. Fucking. Winning. And that’s what I’m gonna do tonight, Luthie. I’m going to win. And I don’t give a shit if you respect me afterwards. I don’t care if you think I’m out of line or unable to properly promote a match. I’m done asking for respect. I’m here to give you no other choice but to respect me.
Finally he does pause, giving himself a minute to cool down. Obviously he doesn’t want to get too worked up before the match.
MICHAEL MAROU
I’m going to that ring tonight, Luthie, to kick your head off your damn shoulders. I’ll pin you tonight in the middle of that ring. And I’ll move on to the finals of this tournament. And two weeks from now, I’ll be standing tall as the first ever Uprising Champion. And there’s not a goddamn thing that anyone can do about it. So let’s go, Thor. I’m about to beat your ass. 3000.
With that, Michael places the Chaos strap back over his shoulders. He turns on heel and walks away, out of camera shot as the scene fades out to another set of ads for upcoming Splat programming.
_____________________________________________
It’s just about that time, Luthie.
The darkness resolves to show MICHAEL MAROU as he looks deeply into the camera. For all his playful banter and joking on Twitter, it’s clear he’s taking this seriously. Of course he always takes work seriously.
MICHAEL MAROU
Are you ready? I’ve been ready since the moment the match was announced.
His voice barely above a whisper, he clenches his teeth as he speaks. He carries the Valiant Chaos Title over his shoulder, if for no other reason then to let people know he is in fact championship material.
MICHAEL MAROU
I’ve been ready since the moment I signed my name on the dotted line for Uprising. And what have I gotten for it? Doubt. Every match I’ve stepped in thus far, my opponent boldly and proudly claimed there was no way in hell I was winning the match. Kross. Mosh. And now Luther. What else have I gotten? Bet against.
He snarls a bit as he talks, obviously allowing the word of his peers fuel his anger. With his patented "Fuck Failure" shirt and black shorts adorning his body, he speaks each word as if it was carefully chosen.
MICHAEL MAROU
The odds aren’t in my favor. The bookies just aren’t seeing me walk out with the W tonight, are they Don? See I’m not much of a gambler but you liked to place your bets, don’t ya Big Daddy? And you’re betting against me. Luther, you’re advising me to not bet on myself; claiming it would be a mistake. How fuckin’ rich.
He’s seething now, angry at all those who have doubted and bet against him. In fact, the only one on the Uprising roster that seems to have any faith in him is Logan Lewis.
MICHAEL MAROU
And lastly I’ve earned flat out disrespect. Yeah, Thunder, I know you started out by saying there could be a mutual respect between us. Started out saying things didn’t have to take that ugly turn. We could show respect for one another and at the end of the night, the better man will walk away victorious and the lesser man will congratulate him and leave him to his celebrations.
Michael’s trademark smirk spreads thinly across his lips as he stands in front of the Uprising backdrop in the backstage area. Fire burns in his eyes as he continues his monologue.
MICHAEL MAROU
But you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain, did you? Nah, you watched that first video I put out and you immediately twisted my words and even claimed that I said shit that I never said. Puttin' words in my mouth, because you know the words I really spoke were true.
Michael takes a deep breath, not wanting to get too heated. Of course most of his aggression right now was manufactured by hyping himself up with loud music and getting himself in the right frame of mind. But manufactured aggression will still go just as far in that ring.
MICHAEL MAROU
See, I do respect you, Luther. I feel like I’ve said this a hundred times, and I can say it 'til I’m blue in the face. I know exactly what you’re capable of. I know I’m not walking into a goddamn cakewalk. I’m walking into what just might be my hardest fought match of my career, definitely my hardest match in Uprising. But I would still wager a lot more than Don Tirri is willing to put up that I’ll walk out of this match victorious. It’s not a slight on you, Thunder. I’m just that fuckin’ good. You think I’d walk around here claiming to be god-tier talent if I didn’t have what it takes to back it up?
He shrugs, knowing it’s a baseless rhetorical question. Of course plenty of wrestlers claim to be way better then they really are. At this point, Michael taps on his Chaos title.
MICHAEL MAROU
And this right here... oh I’ve heard the whispers. People questioning why I would bring my title from another promotion into videos where I’m promoting this one. People telling me my accomplishments in other places don’t mean jack shit here in Reno. And to a point, I’ll agree with that. But you gotta consider what this title means. Over in Los Angeles, this title means I’m a goddamn champion. I’m one of the best in that federation. But here in Reno... it means somethin a little bit different. Let me elaborate.
He pulls the Chaos title off his shoulder and holds it up to the camera, almost as if he’s shoving it in the face of every viewer watching at home and in the backstage. With a grimace, he continues his rant.
MICHAEL MAROU
See, ever since I’ve came back to wrestling earlier this year, I’ve faced the same three things I mentioned earlier. Doubt, bet against, and disrespect. And Jesus Christ, has the disrespect been abundant. I’ve been verbally attacked with targets on my appearance, my intelligence and my overall in-ring ability. I’ve had sophomoric insults thrown my way, calling me stupid shit like ‘Minecraft Steve’ and ‘block head.’ I’ve been overlooked as nothing more than a dumbass meat head incapable of stringing together a coherent thought merely because I spend a lot of time sculpting my body. And every single time I step in the ring, I got an opponent telling me there’s no chance in hell that I’m gonna win. But the funny thing is, for all that disrespect and doubt, I still keep winning. I can count on one hand the amount of time I’ve been pinned since I came back to wrestling this year. And that’s over a span of around five months in four different companies. That’s what this belt symbolizes.
Michael continues on, hardly pausing to breathe as his spits out this ‘truth’ (or at least his version of the truth). But as he speaks, his voice grows angrier to the point where he’s damn near yelling at the camera.
MICHAEL MAROU
Regardless of the company, and regardless of the doubt and disrespect slung my way, I keep. On. Fucking. Winning. And that’s what I’m gonna do tonight, Luthie. I’m going to win. And I don’t give a shit if you respect me afterwards. I don’t care if you think I’m out of line or unable to properly promote a match. I’m done asking for respect. I’m here to give you no other choice but to respect me.
Finally he does pause, giving himself a minute to cool down. Obviously he doesn’t want to get too worked up before the match.
MICHAEL MAROU
I’m going to that ring tonight, Luthie, to kick your head off your damn shoulders. I’ll pin you tonight in the middle of that ring. And I’ll move on to the finals of this tournament. And two weeks from now, I’ll be standing tall as the first ever Uprising Champion. And there’s not a goddamn thing that anyone can do about it. So let’s go, Thor. I’m about to beat your ass. 3000.
With that, Michael places the Chaos strap back over his shoulders. He turns on heel and walks away, out of camera shot as the scene fades out to another set of ads for upcoming Splat programming.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. ELDORADO CASINO -- BACKSTAGE
We head backstage where LUTHER THUNDER is stood by, already geared up to compete, a look of steely determination on his face. His wife and manager, ESME THUNDER, is beside him, giving his shoulder a quick rub before speaking.
ESME THUNDER
Greetings, everybody, and happy holidays to you all. 2020 is almost in the rearview mirror, and we are all excited to burst into 2021 with new passions, new desires, new vigor. But before we get all excited, and make our resolutions for the future, we have one last item of business to take care of before this year reaches an end. Tonight, my husband will face Michael Marou, with the winner guaranteed a place in UPRISING’s first ever championship match. For one, the new year will start with the opportunity of a lifetime. For the other, it will merely be a time to reflect, rebuild, and go again.
She pats her man on the shoulder.
ESME THUNDER
Many words have been spoken back and forth, talks of disrespect, talks of truth, but when that bell rings, none of that matters. The only truth of note then will be what happens between those ropes. Marou is an accomplished wrestler, and you have all seen firsthand a taste of what Luther is capable of. Unlike Mr. Marou, my husband does not need to wave around other belts he holds elsewhere, touting accomplishments from places other than UPRISING in an attempt to legitimize himself as a threat.
She pauses for a moment, letting that thought sink in.
ESME THUNDER
What you also may not understand, and I feel assured Mr. Marou does not, is that my husband has yet to go to anything like the lengths he is capable of. Carnivore & SAW were both very tough opponents, but Luther can go further than he did against them if need be. For all he is a humble and respectful man, if pushed far enough, he is far more dangerous than you realize. You claim you know my husband, Mr. Marou, but if you truly did... you would be a touch more careful with your words. But no matter. Tonight, the issue will be settled. And while one man shall dine soon on Christmas ham, the other may well be forced to settle for a little humble pie. I suggest you start heating the oven, Mr. Marou.
Luther seems to be doing his best not to stick his chest out with pride and boast about the pride he had for his wife and her delivery before he speaks out.
LUTHER THUNDER
Michael, my dear man, my fellow competitor. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will not harm me. That’s how the saying goes. You are over there, saying the things you say, suggesting and hinting at things, maybe hoping for a response and I commend you on that, truly. At the end of the day, I’m an old dog in this business, been around the block more than once or twice. If you think calling me "Luthie" or nitpicking things me and my darling wife says is going to set me off the rails, you are mistaken. The reason I am not mad at you is simple: I like you, Michael. I think we both agree that no matter which one of us goes through to the finals tonight, needs to win the whole damn thing. Because you know as well as I do, just how good we are and if we bring our best tonight against each other, then the one who loses will at least lose to the person who wins the tournament. Whether you have a relationship with Logan Lewis does not matter, if you believe Kalinda is a dragon or not does not matter and if Don Tirri is as cool as he says he is? Yup, does not matter. You talk this talk about Ironman and Thor, all that Marvel jargon, well I’ve never been that into comics to begin with but if I were, Batman is more my thing. Gotham is more of the place I see. Now whether I am the hero or the villain of the story? Well, that depends on who you are asking, doesn’t it, Michael? So, instead of spending our time nitpicking on who said what about who, I think at the very least we can both agree that whoever wins out of the two of us needs to see this through to the very end.
Thunder pauses after that reiteration, a fire burning deep in his otherwise calm gaze.
LUTHER THUNDER
Is it you or me? We’ll find out tonight. Just laying it all out there. If you beat me tonight in that ring, no hard feelings, I’ll support you to the end. If I win, though? I expect you to be a man of your word, shaking my hand and supporting me to the very end... even if it would be against Lil’ Miss Reno herself? How about it "Ironman"? Can you do that or are your loins in charge over your brain. This is the biggest chance we have gotten in UPRISING so far, Mr. Marou; this is no time to make it personal or emotional. Knee-jerk reactions need not apply. Be sensible, be smart. Do the right thing for yourself and the company.
ESME THUNDER
Indeed. The time for talking is over. Now if you’ll excuse us, I want to make sure my husband is free of distractions. We shall see you out there. Bring your A-game, Mr. Marou.
SEMI-FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH
LUTHER THUNDER vs MICHAEL MAROU
The bell rings and the two big men meet head-on in the middle of the ring, chest to chest. Luther stares his opponent down while the younger Marou leans in, talking trash, trying to get in the veteran’s head early. In an instant they begin trading blows with one another with hand speed unbecoming such heavy blows. Eventually Marou’s youth comes into play and the older man has to resort to covering up as opposed to trading blows. Luther gets driven into a corner as Michael continues working over whatever he can strike. Michael raises a fist in the air at the early establishment of dominance as he takes a lap around the ring, gloating a little before charging back to Luther in the corner only to run straight into a big boot. The impact stuns him long enough for Luther to throw him into the corner and begin raining heavy blows of his own upon Marou’s body. A right cross turns Marou 180 degrees and he leans into the turnbuckle for support, his face a portrait of a man stunned.
Luther takes instant advantage, snatching Marou by his head and bashing his head into the top turnbuckle before lifting him up and setting him on the top turnbuckle. He snatches Marou by the shoulder and yanks him backward, hanging him up in the tree of woe. He takes his own lap now, before charging in and burying his knee into Marou’s midsection. He pulls the knee back once more before slamming it back into Marou’s ribcage. He then snatches his ankles, yanking Marou free from the corner and dragging him to the middle of the ring while he recovers from the assault on his midsection. He flips him over and snatches his legs, lifting him up and slingshotting him into the ring post yet again! After launching Marou, Luther scrambles to his feet and charges the ropes, bouncing off of them he nails Marou with a thunderous clothesline that turns the young man inside out!! As soon as he hits the ground, Luther goes for the cover!!
ONE!
TWO!
Marou gets his shoulder up! Luther looks shocked, hands resting on his hips as he slaps his hand three times at the ref before getting to his feet, pulling Marou with him. Marou, however, shoves a thumb into Luther’s eye, who cries out in pain as the ref tries to break them up! Marou backs Luther into the ropes before letting him go, he whips him into the opposite ropes and charges after him, colliding in the middle with a giant spear!! Marou gets up, letting out a war cry that elicits mixed reactions from the crowd, as has the rest of this bout! Marou gets his head back in the game though and pounces on Luther, locking in a Kimura! Luther yells in pain as his arm is wrenched relentlessly. Marou begin yelling at Luther to tap! The ref confers with Luther who shouts "No!" back emphatically, and begins dragging himself across the ring with his one free arm, his face twisted in agony as Marou tries to wrench harder on the hold! Luther is nearly to the ropes! He reaches out.....AND HE CATCHES HOLD OF THE BOTTOM ROPE!
The crowd pops in respect to the toughness of the veteran, as the referee breaks the hold up. Marou is incensed, screaming obscenities as Luther pulls himself up on the ropes, cradling his wounded arm close to his body. Marou charges at him but Luther ducks a clothesline, stumbling to the middle of the ring. Marou bounces off the ropes and charges back in but Luther manages to nail him with a one-armed version of Into the Styx (spinning spinebuster)! Luther gets to his feet, still favoring his hurt arm but bellows for Marou to get up, refusing to drop for a cover yet! Michael Marou finds it in him to answer that call, stumbling up as he tries to catch his breath; he looks dazed and he spins in the center of the ring trying to locate Luther. Thunder finds him first, nailing him dead on the chin with the Thunderstruck (superkick)! Marou crumbles and Luther leaps upon him, hooking the leg as the ref goes to count and the crowd goes absolutely insane!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): LUTHER THUNDER
ESME THUNDER
Greetings, everybody, and happy holidays to you all. 2020 is almost in the rearview mirror, and we are all excited to burst into 2021 with new passions, new desires, new vigor. But before we get all excited, and make our resolutions for the future, we have one last item of business to take care of before this year reaches an end. Tonight, my husband will face Michael Marou, with the winner guaranteed a place in UPRISING’s first ever championship match. For one, the new year will start with the opportunity of a lifetime. For the other, it will merely be a time to reflect, rebuild, and go again.
She pats her man on the shoulder.
ESME THUNDER
Many words have been spoken back and forth, talks of disrespect, talks of truth, but when that bell rings, none of that matters. The only truth of note then will be what happens between those ropes. Marou is an accomplished wrestler, and you have all seen firsthand a taste of what Luther is capable of. Unlike Mr. Marou, my husband does not need to wave around other belts he holds elsewhere, touting accomplishments from places other than UPRISING in an attempt to legitimize himself as a threat.
She pauses for a moment, letting that thought sink in.
ESME THUNDER
What you also may not understand, and I feel assured Mr. Marou does not, is that my husband has yet to go to anything like the lengths he is capable of. Carnivore & SAW were both very tough opponents, but Luther can go further than he did against them if need be. For all he is a humble and respectful man, if pushed far enough, he is far more dangerous than you realize. You claim you know my husband, Mr. Marou, but if you truly did... you would be a touch more careful with your words. But no matter. Tonight, the issue will be settled. And while one man shall dine soon on Christmas ham, the other may well be forced to settle for a little humble pie. I suggest you start heating the oven, Mr. Marou.
Luther seems to be doing his best not to stick his chest out with pride and boast about the pride he had for his wife and her delivery before he speaks out.
LUTHER THUNDER
Michael, my dear man, my fellow competitor. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will not harm me. That’s how the saying goes. You are over there, saying the things you say, suggesting and hinting at things, maybe hoping for a response and I commend you on that, truly. At the end of the day, I’m an old dog in this business, been around the block more than once or twice. If you think calling me "Luthie" or nitpicking things me and my darling wife says is going to set me off the rails, you are mistaken. The reason I am not mad at you is simple: I like you, Michael. I think we both agree that no matter which one of us goes through to the finals tonight, needs to win the whole damn thing. Because you know as well as I do, just how good we are and if we bring our best tonight against each other, then the one who loses will at least lose to the person who wins the tournament. Whether you have a relationship with Logan Lewis does not matter, if you believe Kalinda is a dragon or not does not matter and if Don Tirri is as cool as he says he is? Yup, does not matter. You talk this talk about Ironman and Thor, all that Marvel jargon, well I’ve never been that into comics to begin with but if I were, Batman is more my thing. Gotham is more of the place I see. Now whether I am the hero or the villain of the story? Well, that depends on who you are asking, doesn’t it, Michael? So, instead of spending our time nitpicking on who said what about who, I think at the very least we can both agree that whoever wins out of the two of us needs to see this through to the very end.
Thunder pauses after that reiteration, a fire burning deep in his otherwise calm gaze.
LUTHER THUNDER
Is it you or me? We’ll find out tonight. Just laying it all out there. If you beat me tonight in that ring, no hard feelings, I’ll support you to the end. If I win, though? I expect you to be a man of your word, shaking my hand and supporting me to the very end... even if it would be against Lil’ Miss Reno herself? How about it "Ironman"? Can you do that or are your loins in charge over your brain. This is the biggest chance we have gotten in UPRISING so far, Mr. Marou; this is no time to make it personal or emotional. Knee-jerk reactions need not apply. Be sensible, be smart. Do the right thing for yourself and the company.
ESME THUNDER
Indeed. The time for talking is over. Now if you’ll excuse us, I want to make sure my husband is free of distractions. We shall see you out there. Bring your A-game, Mr. Marou.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
SEMI-FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH
LUTHER THUNDER vs MICHAEL MAROU
The bell rings and the two big men meet head-on in the middle of the ring, chest to chest. Luther stares his opponent down while the younger Marou leans in, talking trash, trying to get in the veteran’s head early. In an instant they begin trading blows with one another with hand speed unbecoming such heavy blows. Eventually Marou’s youth comes into play and the older man has to resort to covering up as opposed to trading blows. Luther gets driven into a corner as Michael continues working over whatever he can strike. Michael raises a fist in the air at the early establishment of dominance as he takes a lap around the ring, gloating a little before charging back to Luther in the corner only to run straight into a big boot. The impact stuns him long enough for Luther to throw him into the corner and begin raining heavy blows of his own upon Marou’s body. A right cross turns Marou 180 degrees and he leans into the turnbuckle for support, his face a portrait of a man stunned.
Luther takes instant advantage, snatching Marou by his head and bashing his head into the top turnbuckle before lifting him up and setting him on the top turnbuckle. He snatches Marou by the shoulder and yanks him backward, hanging him up in the tree of woe. He takes his own lap now, before charging in and burying his knee into Marou’s midsection. He pulls the knee back once more before slamming it back into Marou’s ribcage. He then snatches his ankles, yanking Marou free from the corner and dragging him to the middle of the ring while he recovers from the assault on his midsection. He flips him over and snatches his legs, lifting him up and slingshotting him into the ring post yet again! After launching Marou, Luther scrambles to his feet and charges the ropes, bouncing off of them he nails Marou with a thunderous clothesline that turns the young man inside out!! As soon as he hits the ground, Luther goes for the cover!!
ONE!
TWO!
Marou gets his shoulder up! Luther looks shocked, hands resting on his hips as he slaps his hand three times at the ref before getting to his feet, pulling Marou with him. Marou, however, shoves a thumb into Luther’s eye, who cries out in pain as the ref tries to break them up! Marou backs Luther into the ropes before letting him go, he whips him into the opposite ropes and charges after him, colliding in the middle with a giant spear!! Marou gets up, letting out a war cry that elicits mixed reactions from the crowd, as has the rest of this bout! Marou gets his head back in the game though and pounces on Luther, locking in a Kimura! Luther yells in pain as his arm is wrenched relentlessly. Marou begin yelling at Luther to tap! The ref confers with Luther who shouts "No!" back emphatically, and begins dragging himself across the ring with his one free arm, his face twisted in agony as Marou tries to wrench harder on the hold! Luther is nearly to the ropes! He reaches out.....AND HE CATCHES HOLD OF THE BOTTOM ROPE!
The crowd pops in respect to the toughness of the veteran, as the referee breaks the hold up. Marou is incensed, screaming obscenities as Luther pulls himself up on the ropes, cradling his wounded arm close to his body. Marou charges at him but Luther ducks a clothesline, stumbling to the middle of the ring. Marou bounces off the ropes and charges back in but Luther manages to nail him with a one-armed version of Into the Styx (spinning spinebuster)! Luther gets to his feet, still favoring his hurt arm but bellows for Marou to get up, refusing to drop for a cover yet! Michael Marou finds it in him to answer that call, stumbling up as he tries to catch his breath; he looks dazed and he spins in the center of the ring trying to locate Luther. Thunder finds him first, nailing him dead on the chin with the Thunderstruck (superkick)! Marou crumbles and Luther leaps upon him, hooking the leg as the ref goes to count and the crowd goes absolutely insane!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): LUTHER THUNDER
CUT TO:
STATIC
_____________________________________________
The screen images shatters, static showing through the cracks that spreads out as if bleeding from a wound and covering the whole image. The static surges and twists, momentarily revealing an image before returning to static and then jumping to the next image. A baby chick struggling to get free of its egg. A weathered old man looking wearily into the distance, leaning on a cane as storm clouds writhe in the sky. A burned bassinet swinging back and forth on an unseen wind. A book covered in dust and spider webs catching fire. The static vanishes as a haunting seven note whistle sounds as the image cuts to a weird phonograph. The device seems to be made up of a number of components, all of them floating in the air. A record spins on its side as the whole conglomeration hovers several feet off the ground, glowing faintly. A tinny female voice begins to sing.
CREEPY ELDRITCH PHONOGRAPH
Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone. Maybe the world has fallen for an unworthy hero. Zero. Six. Six. Six. ZERO. Zero. Six. Six. Six. ZERO.
The familiar spliced together cadence sounds off, the demonic chorus of voices on the second zero cracks the record, making it glow and catch fire. The fourth mention of the numeral causes the whole device to lose cohesion, wisps of eldritch fire remaining in the air as the rest of the device turns to black liquid and splatters on the ground. The wisps of flame burn out and from the black puddle rises a humanoid form. The goo parts way from the form of KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR. The diminutive dragoness dressed in a labcoat, pencil skirt with a one-eyed possum embroidered on it, and has her hair done up in a bun and is wearing glasses.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Welcome, students, to Ms. Kalinda's remedial class for insipid fuckheads, because some of you have some rather strange ideas.
LOOK AT ME, TIRRI! LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT ME DOING THIS THING WITH THE INTENT TO PROMOTE OUR UPCOMING MATCH!
I'm sure you're going to look down from atop your pile of empty liquor bottles, fresh from getting thrown out of a bar, probably from oozing machismo and condescension all over their nice, clean carpet, and go "AH HA! THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT! OR A SKIT, OR ANY ONE OF 97 OTHER THINGS!" to which I declare fuck you, this is a promo. AND IT'S OOOOOON THE SHOOOOOOOOW! Gasp! Shock! Horror! Look upon my works, ye mighty, and this pear!
Kalinda pulls a juicy pear out of her labcoat pocket and devours it whole in three bites as she wheels an easel into the scene.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
So, recently Don Tirri bloviated a point on Twitter that was so idiotic that I had to go and have actual, legitimate scientific diagrams made so that I could explain just how ill-thought out, bad, and generally awful that Don's idea was. Even worse than clinging to an outdated form of professional wrestling revenue generation and demanding that the practices surrounding this obsolete business model be maintained into the present day, where it hasn't been seen in years. Because the big, muscular white dude with stubble is always right, and the smol, cute women of color's experience to the contrary is completely and utterly irrelevant. And if you bring up how how the Don Tirri Grand Theory of Professional Wrestling is not actually applicable since the world of pro wrestling's primary revenue generator is the TV deals rather than house shows, you get told it's an ad hominem attack.
She rolls her eyes.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Excuse me, dipshit, I thought I WAS attacking your grandiose statement presented with no evidence, only a history lesson and dripping condescension by saying that in the whole of my professional wrestling career, I've never seen any of the shit that's tumbling out of your mouth.
Seriously, you think that we ought to cling to the outdated model of TV building up house shows when house shows these days tend to lose money, and the big money earner for a wrestling promotion is it's TV deal? This is why you're unfit to be UPRISING's inaugural World Champion. I've seen a lot of backwards bullshit in my day, but I'm not about to let this promotion get its assed dragged back into the dark ages because you cannot possibly comprehend a way of doing things that isn't the way things were when you started cutting your teeth in this business.
Kalinda claps her hands.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
And speaking of dragging ass, that brings us right into the slightly dumber thing that one Donathan F. Tirri put forth on Twitter. He stated that he was going to grab me by the tail and swing me around the ring.
The dragoness snorts.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Even the most rudimentary analysis of the things involved would show just what an ineffectual flight of fancy this whole thing is. GENTLEMEN, BEHOLD!
Kalinda removes the blank top card sitting on the easel, revealing a drawing of herself standing on a milk crate with her arms at shoulder level and spread to the sides, while Don Tirri has one arm sticking out. They are, for some reason, stick figures and they appear to have been drawn in crayon.
Kalinda also has her tail sticking straight out from her backside. The placement of the milk crate makes the pair exactly the same height, and Kalinda's rather long tail extends across the space between them and the fluffy tuft at the end is approximately where the stick figure Tirri's navel is.
Tirri has a speech bubble above his head reading "Knock it off, Pinky! My belly button is extremely ticklish!" while the drawing of Kalinda states "I am T-posing to assert my dominance!"
A number of guide bars are shown with corresponding lengths of measurement.
Kalinda has produced a wooden pointer from somewhat and thwacks the image of Tirri with it.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
You know, they say all men are created equal, but you look at me and you look at Donathan Tirri and you can see that statement is clearly not true. See, normally if you are a wrestler you've got an arm span that's approximately your height plus a few inches. But I'm a dragoness, and I'm not a mere mundane wrestler! So I got a tail that's 150% my height sticking outta the base of my spinal column! Which means your chances of avoiding a rope break drastically go down!
Kalinda begins poking the diagrams.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Ya see, Don Tirri, you got, at best, a three foot, seven inch reach. But I, I got a seven foot, six inch tail. Logan Lewis knows she can't swing me around be the tail, and she ain't even gonna try. So, Don Tirri, you take my seven feet and six inches of tail and add to that my two feet, eight inches of reach and you immediately got problems! Cause ya see, UPRISING's matches take place in a twenty foot by twenty foot interior ring space. So you take your three foot seven inches, and apply that to my six feet, seven inches and you got a lot of pain in your future!
Kalinda kicks one of her taloned feet up into the easel, showing her three draconic toes, each tipped with a large, red-tinted claw.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
So ya see, Don Tirri, if you grab my tail anywhere within the first three or so feet of my tail, you're gonna have a bad time when I slice up your nasty, nicotine stained-grope hands with my toeclaws, and that spells disaster for you at Revolution in the semi-finals of the World Title Tournament!
Kalinda expertly hooks a claw on the edge of the card and yanks it to the side, revealing the next diagram.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Now, dispensing with the math of a man from a highly educated university, you've got a problem, Donathan. And it's a big one. There's literally nowhere you can grab my tail and have this work. You grab anywhere in the three feet closest to my butt, and you've got horrible slashy claws of DOOM! That's right! They are going to pair you with another male member of the UPRISING roster and write lewd fanfic about you being stranded on Mars during a demonic invasion!
Kalinda scowls and extends about eight inches of forked tongue out of her mouth and blows a raspberry.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
No, of course they're not! They're going to cut your hands and arms to ribbons! Horrible slashy agony! Horrible slashy agony for Tirri for one thousand years! But down a bit further? That's even worse!
Kalinda turns to the side and wiggles her rump and points to the particular length of her tail.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Here we have the worst of both worlds, because not only can I slice, dice, and Julienne your prime wanking appendages, but I can also reach the ropes.
Kalinda makes the last four and a half feet of her tail slither and sway from side to side.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
After that, forget about it. I'm going to be solidly in the ring ropes. So there's no going to be swinging a dragoness around by the tail like a Gay Bowser. Because in order to get it to work you risk being maimed. Kalinda reaches over and pulls off the last card, revealing a diagram of a wrestling ring with circles in it.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
This also got made before we realized that using the format with the ruler made it much more clear. But this makes me sad that I'm not also an Irish sharpshooter, because this would definitely make a cool t-shirt logo.
Kalinda's head darts around and she turns, looking for something.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Well, okay! I didn't actually plan like a wrap up or anything because...
The feed cuts out abruptly into an advertising break for SplatTV content.
CREEPY ELDRITCH PHONOGRAPH
Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone. Maybe the world has fallen for an unworthy hero. Zero. Six. Six. Six. ZERO. Zero. Six. Six. Six. ZERO.
The familiar spliced together cadence sounds off, the demonic chorus of voices on the second zero cracks the record, making it glow and catch fire. The fourth mention of the numeral causes the whole device to lose cohesion, wisps of eldritch fire remaining in the air as the rest of the device turns to black liquid and splatters on the ground. The wisps of flame burn out and from the black puddle rises a humanoid form. The goo parts way from the form of KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR. The diminutive dragoness dressed in a labcoat, pencil skirt with a one-eyed possum embroidered on it, and has her hair done up in a bun and is wearing glasses.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Welcome, students, to Ms. Kalinda's remedial class for insipid fuckheads, because some of you have some rather strange ideas.
LOOK AT ME, TIRRI! LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT ME DOING THIS THING WITH THE INTENT TO PROMOTE OUR UPCOMING MATCH!
I'm sure you're going to look down from atop your pile of empty liquor bottles, fresh from getting thrown out of a bar, probably from oozing machismo and condescension all over their nice, clean carpet, and go "AH HA! THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT! OR A SKIT, OR ANY ONE OF 97 OTHER THINGS!" to which I declare fuck you, this is a promo. AND IT'S OOOOOON THE SHOOOOOOOOW! Gasp! Shock! Horror! Look upon my works, ye mighty, and this pear!
Kalinda pulls a juicy pear out of her labcoat pocket and devours it whole in three bites as she wheels an easel into the scene.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
So, recently Don Tirri bloviated a point on Twitter that was so idiotic that I had to go and have actual, legitimate scientific diagrams made so that I could explain just how ill-thought out, bad, and generally awful that Don's idea was. Even worse than clinging to an outdated form of professional wrestling revenue generation and demanding that the practices surrounding this obsolete business model be maintained into the present day, where it hasn't been seen in years. Because the big, muscular white dude with stubble is always right, and the smol, cute women of color's experience to the contrary is completely and utterly irrelevant. And if you bring up how how the Don Tirri Grand Theory of Professional Wrestling is not actually applicable since the world of pro wrestling's primary revenue generator is the TV deals rather than house shows, you get told it's an ad hominem attack.
She rolls her eyes.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Excuse me, dipshit, I thought I WAS attacking your grandiose statement presented with no evidence, only a history lesson and dripping condescension by saying that in the whole of my professional wrestling career, I've never seen any of the shit that's tumbling out of your mouth.
Seriously, you think that we ought to cling to the outdated model of TV building up house shows when house shows these days tend to lose money, and the big money earner for a wrestling promotion is it's TV deal? This is why you're unfit to be UPRISING's inaugural World Champion. I've seen a lot of backwards bullshit in my day, but I'm not about to let this promotion get its assed dragged back into the dark ages because you cannot possibly comprehend a way of doing things that isn't the way things were when you started cutting your teeth in this business.
Kalinda claps her hands.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
And speaking of dragging ass, that brings us right into the slightly dumber thing that one Donathan F. Tirri put forth on Twitter. He stated that he was going to grab me by the tail and swing me around the ring.
The dragoness snorts.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Even the most rudimentary analysis of the things involved would show just what an ineffectual flight of fancy this whole thing is. GENTLEMEN, BEHOLD!
Kalinda removes the blank top card sitting on the easel, revealing a drawing of herself standing on a milk crate with her arms at shoulder level and spread to the sides, while Don Tirri has one arm sticking out. They are, for some reason, stick figures and they appear to have been drawn in crayon.
Kalinda also has her tail sticking straight out from her backside. The placement of the milk crate makes the pair exactly the same height, and Kalinda's rather long tail extends across the space between them and the fluffy tuft at the end is approximately where the stick figure Tirri's navel is.
Tirri has a speech bubble above his head reading "Knock it off, Pinky! My belly button is extremely ticklish!" while the drawing of Kalinda states "I am T-posing to assert my dominance!"
A number of guide bars are shown with corresponding lengths of measurement.
Kalinda has produced a wooden pointer from somewhat and thwacks the image of Tirri with it.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
You know, they say all men are created equal, but you look at me and you look at Donathan Tirri and you can see that statement is clearly not true. See, normally if you are a wrestler you've got an arm span that's approximately your height plus a few inches. But I'm a dragoness, and I'm not a mere mundane wrestler! So I got a tail that's 150% my height sticking outta the base of my spinal column! Which means your chances of avoiding a rope break drastically go down!
Kalinda begins poking the diagrams.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Ya see, Don Tirri, you got, at best, a three foot, seven inch reach. But I, I got a seven foot, six inch tail. Logan Lewis knows she can't swing me around be the tail, and she ain't even gonna try. So, Don Tirri, you take my seven feet and six inches of tail and add to that my two feet, eight inches of reach and you immediately got problems! Cause ya see, UPRISING's matches take place in a twenty foot by twenty foot interior ring space. So you take your three foot seven inches, and apply that to my six feet, seven inches and you got a lot of pain in your future!
Kalinda kicks one of her taloned feet up into the easel, showing her three draconic toes, each tipped with a large, red-tinted claw.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
So ya see, Don Tirri, if you grab my tail anywhere within the first three or so feet of my tail, you're gonna have a bad time when I slice up your nasty, nicotine stained-grope hands with my toeclaws, and that spells disaster for you at Revolution in the semi-finals of the World Title Tournament!
Kalinda expertly hooks a claw on the edge of the card and yanks it to the side, revealing the next diagram.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Now, dispensing with the math of a man from a highly educated university, you've got a problem, Donathan. And it's a big one. There's literally nowhere you can grab my tail and have this work. You grab anywhere in the three feet closest to my butt, and you've got horrible slashy claws of DOOM! That's right! They are going to pair you with another male member of the UPRISING roster and write lewd fanfic about you being stranded on Mars during a demonic invasion!
Kalinda scowls and extends about eight inches of forked tongue out of her mouth and blows a raspberry.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
No, of course they're not! They're going to cut your hands and arms to ribbons! Horrible slashy agony! Horrible slashy agony for Tirri for one thousand years! But down a bit further? That's even worse!
Kalinda turns to the side and wiggles her rump and points to the particular length of her tail.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Here we have the worst of both worlds, because not only can I slice, dice, and Julienne your prime wanking appendages, but I can also reach the ropes.
Kalinda makes the last four and a half feet of her tail slither and sway from side to side.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
After that, forget about it. I'm going to be solidly in the ring ropes. So there's no going to be swinging a dragoness around by the tail like a Gay Bowser. Because in order to get it to work you risk being maimed. Kalinda reaches over and pulls off the last card, revealing a diagram of a wrestling ring with circles in it.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
This also got made before we realized that using the format with the ruler made it much more clear. But this makes me sad that I'm not also an Irish sharpshooter, because this would definitely make a cool t-shirt logo.
Kalinda's head darts around and she turns, looking for something.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Well, okay! I didn't actually plan like a wrap up or anything because...
The feed cuts out abruptly into an advertising break for SplatTV content.
_____________________________________________
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- BACKSTAGE
The view opens up in the locker room of "OLD SCHOOL COOL" DON TIRRI, the big Finn seated on a bench already mostly in his wrestling gear. He is in the process of taping up his left knee, rolling on layer after layer of athletic tape. He finishes what he was doing and yanks a pad and brace on it before looking up at the camera. His usual joviality is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a serious expression that has rarely graced his features. As he speaks, he does so in a low tone.
DON TIRRI
We’re but a few minutes away from the main event of the evening. A semi-final match for the Uprising Championship tournament. A match where the stakes couldn’t be any higher. A match that has become one of the most heated and controversial in the, for now, short history of the promotion.
Tirri grabs another roll of athletic tape and starts to tape up his right wrist, the process looking more like a ritual than an actual effort of creating functionality.
DON TIRRI
The time for talking has finally passed. And there has been a LOT of talking. By me. By Logan. By Kalinda. This match has caused many an argument and many a meme war on Twitter over the last 2 weeks. But now the time for action is approaching. The Dragon vs The Veteran vs The Rookie. Three way dance of destiny. A match that will go down in history as a sordid affair where friendships and rivalries merged to form a tragedy in three acts.
He switches to taping the other wrist, holding his gaze down. A very unusual thing for the normally so relaxed man.
DON TIRRI
Kalinda. I am sorry that my personal issues robbed you of a chance to meet me in the ring one on one. A match that both of us deserved. A match that both of us earned. A match that would have been legendary. I apologize that you got drawn into this mess that formed between myself and Logan. I would have loved to fight you in even term, on even ground. And I hope that I will eventually get that chance. You have shown in the short history of Uprising to be a true star. A competitor par excellence. A match between the two of us would have been one to remember. For we are both in our own ways truly unique in this business. But that will have to wait. For tonight we are not alone. Good luck, Kalinda Kriegsdottir. May whatever deity heeds your call watch over your actions tonight.
Tirri rolls his wrists for a moment, seeing how the tape flexes. Happy with the result, he tosses the roll to the side and finally looks up. A grim look of determination is on his face.
DON TIRRI
Logan. The rookie. The young star in the making. I have said many a thing about you. And to you. So many that I have nary a thing left. This issue between us has been blown into proportions neither of us wanted it to go. For all your youthful naivete and inexperience you possess a certain level of talent in the ring. Physically you are a star in the making. Mentally you are not ready. Your inability to deal with something that has been the norm of this business for a century has muddled your ability to see clearly. To do the smart thing. And your fixation on a Cinderella story that is as unlikely as my redemption story… has caused whatever rapport there was between us to ferment and turn sour. But the die is cast. The cards have been drawn and both of us need to play with the hand we got dealt. Whether it's a royal flush or the dead man's hand remains to be seen. But know one thing, Logan. After this match. Win. Lose. or Draw. I consider our issue settled. No matter what the outcome, I shall hold no ill will towards you. I shall hold no pity or spite to you. Should we meet in the ring after tonight it will be a new leaf. A new page. You might disagree with this depending on the end result but I don’t give a fuck about that. I have exposed myself to a weakness I have held at bay for decades. I will never repeat that mistake again. Good luck, Logan Lewis. You will need it. And remember what I told you.
Tirri stands up and makes his way towards the door, turning to face the camera one last time and speaking his last words before disappearing through the doorway and the recording cutting
DON TIRRI
If you want peace. Prepare for war!
MAIN EVENT: SEMI-FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH
"OLD SCHOOL COOL" DON TIRRI vs LOGAN LEWIS vs KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
The ring of the bell halts a brief staring contest and Tirri explodes into action, charging at Lewis and driving her back into the corner with a spear that turns into a knee strike to the midsection on impact. Lewis fires back with an elbow strike that catches Don in the nose, forcing him to back off but the moment he steps away from Logan, she dives in with a pounce and some mounted strikes. Tirri deflects most of them and then swings, just missing what might have been a knockout blow as Kalinda grabs hold of her ankle and yanks her off with the Come Slither! Logan flails but she gets caught into a leg grapevine with a 94-Inch Python added in for good measure – BOOT TO THE HEAD FROM DON TIRRI! Kalinda falls back, momentarily stunned and Tirri turns right around into a stunning bicycle kick from Logan Lewis! He goes down like a sack of dirty laundry and we have our first pinfall attempt!
ONE!
TW—NO!
Kalinda breaks it up and Lewis rolls back to her feet, facing the dragoness. The two collide and Lewis sends Kriegsdottir at the ropes, nailing her with a running bulldog on the rebound. Tirri rolls away and gets back up with the help of the ropes, watching the two women battle it out for a moment with a hint of a smirk on his face until Lewis manages to nail a dropkick to the knee and then springboards off the ropes, looking for a crossbody block on the idle Tirri – DENIED! He catches her midair, bouncing her legs off the ropes and taking Lewis down with a whiplash neckbreaker! He drops down and starts laying some elbow strikes peppered with punches before earning a warning from Ref Stef for the closed fist strikes. Lewis staggers back up to her feet, trying to shake off the blows as the crowd starts to get restless. Tirri backs up to the ropes, and sends Lewis to the canvas with a running spear into a modified spinebuster that shakes the ring and sends the crowd to their feet as Logan Lewis rolls to the outside, crumbling to the floor in agony.
Tirri turns around only to find Kalinda on the top rope on all fours and she launches herself with a double axehandle that misses the mark as Tirri hits the deck – she lands just fine behind him and sweeps his legs out from under him with her tail before it looks like she’s going to lock him into Soul of Misery (elevated Texas cloverleaf) to an enormous pop from the crowd for the old school move but Tirri blocks it and rolls through. He staggers back to his feet, looking like he’s limping just a little but Kalinda is all over him still, peppering him with a series of strikes before spitting mist in his face – BLOCKED! Tirri gets his hand up and the worst of it misses his eyes and then he flicks his wrist and flings it back in her face, getting a bit of a break although he doesn’t move away. Instead he locks his hands around Kalinda's neck and pulls her in close, smashing her in the face with a headbutt and then an elbow across the face. The crowd goes nuts as Kalinda knees Tirri in the gut and tosses him at the ropes in desperation, dropping to all fours and then snapping him in the face with her tail like a scorpion on the rebound. Tirri staggers back into the ropes and is unceremoniously pulled out of the ring by Logan Lewis who starts pummeling him on the outside before dropping him on the floor with a Busted Face Drop (RKO), earning a huge pop from the crowd. She slides under the ropes and pops up with a primal roar – it’s like something from an anime as the pink dragoness and the pastel-haired Lewis collide and crash to the canvas, rolling around. Lewis is throwing elbows while Kalinda is trying to control her arms, looking to get her into position for some kind of submission before giving up that route and just clamping on Lewis’ arm, biting. The flailing stops as Logan Lewis shrieks in pain and outrage and then Kalinda’s got her rolled over, her shin across the back of Logan’s neck as she grabs that same arm, wrenching back with an armbar before her tail snakes around Logan’s midsection, squeezing. She thrashes, looking like she’s going to tap out and then Tirri slams down on top of both of them with an old school elbow drop from the top rope.
He’s first to his feet and he drags Lewis up by her hair and sends her off into the ropes, nailing a perfect shoulder block to the face. Lewis staggers back up and charges at Tirri, connects with a cheap kick to the gut that doubles him over and then nails a running knee to the skull that drops the veteran. She drops for the cover and is yanked right off by Kalinda – PYTHON SWING AND SHE’S SAILING INTO THE CORNER. She hits hard and crumples! Tirri is still down and she pulls his dazed ass back up – KNIGHT-NIGHT! Kalinda Kriegsdottir with the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
TH—NO!
HOLY SHIT! LOGAN LEWIS WITH THE SUICIDE DIVE INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE PINNING PREDICAMENT AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND! HER KNEE HITS KALINDA RIGHT IN THE TEMPLE AND SHE FALLS BACK, TOTALLY DAZED FROM THE IMPACT! THE CROWD IS GOING INSANE! Half the locker room is out at the top of the ramp, watching this spectacle! Lewis staggers up and dives at Tirri with a hard lariat. Tirri ducks, nails a hard elbow to the face and uses Logan's momentum to catch her, flip her up onto his shoulder and plaster her to the canvas with an old school gorilla press slam! He floats over and hooks the leg as the crowd goes insane.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): DON TIRRI
Kalinda dives in to break it up, hitting Tirri in the back of the head with hard kick just as the referee’s hand impacts with the canvas and it’s a.... millisecond.... too.... late! Don Tirri falls back and then rolls out of the ring the second he hears the bell, cradling the back of his head as he inches towards the ramp. It’s all over and Kalinda is almost beside herself as she stomps a mudhole in the nearly unconscious Logan Lewis! The last image before the show fades to the UPRISING copyright is that of the smol pink dragoness being swarmed by security and dragged off Logan Lewis, kicking, screaming and literally breathing fire and smoke! This is swiftly replaced by the updated bracket, reminding everyone watching from home that the final for the championship and the Main Event for the CORONATION Supershow was now set.
DON TIRRI
We’re but a few minutes away from the main event of the evening. A semi-final match for the Uprising Championship tournament. A match where the stakes couldn’t be any higher. A match that has become one of the most heated and controversial in the, for now, short history of the promotion.
Tirri grabs another roll of athletic tape and starts to tape up his right wrist, the process looking more like a ritual than an actual effort of creating functionality.
DON TIRRI
The time for talking has finally passed. And there has been a LOT of talking. By me. By Logan. By Kalinda. This match has caused many an argument and many a meme war on Twitter over the last 2 weeks. But now the time for action is approaching. The Dragon vs The Veteran vs The Rookie. Three way dance of destiny. A match that will go down in history as a sordid affair where friendships and rivalries merged to form a tragedy in three acts.
He switches to taping the other wrist, holding his gaze down. A very unusual thing for the normally so relaxed man.
DON TIRRI
Kalinda. I am sorry that my personal issues robbed you of a chance to meet me in the ring one on one. A match that both of us deserved. A match that both of us earned. A match that would have been legendary. I apologize that you got drawn into this mess that formed between myself and Logan. I would have loved to fight you in even term, on even ground. And I hope that I will eventually get that chance. You have shown in the short history of Uprising to be a true star. A competitor par excellence. A match between the two of us would have been one to remember. For we are both in our own ways truly unique in this business. But that will have to wait. For tonight we are not alone. Good luck, Kalinda Kriegsdottir. May whatever deity heeds your call watch over your actions tonight.
Tirri rolls his wrists for a moment, seeing how the tape flexes. Happy with the result, he tosses the roll to the side and finally looks up. A grim look of determination is on his face.
DON TIRRI
Logan. The rookie. The young star in the making. I have said many a thing about you. And to you. So many that I have nary a thing left. This issue between us has been blown into proportions neither of us wanted it to go. For all your youthful naivete and inexperience you possess a certain level of talent in the ring. Physically you are a star in the making. Mentally you are not ready. Your inability to deal with something that has been the norm of this business for a century has muddled your ability to see clearly. To do the smart thing. And your fixation on a Cinderella story that is as unlikely as my redemption story… has caused whatever rapport there was between us to ferment and turn sour. But the die is cast. The cards have been drawn and both of us need to play with the hand we got dealt. Whether it's a royal flush or the dead man's hand remains to be seen. But know one thing, Logan. After this match. Win. Lose. or Draw. I consider our issue settled. No matter what the outcome, I shall hold no ill will towards you. I shall hold no pity or spite to you. Should we meet in the ring after tonight it will be a new leaf. A new page. You might disagree with this depending on the end result but I don’t give a fuck about that. I have exposed myself to a weakness I have held at bay for decades. I will never repeat that mistake again. Good luck, Logan Lewis. You will need it. And remember what I told you.
Tirri stands up and makes his way towards the door, turning to face the camera one last time and speaking his last words before disappearing through the doorway and the recording cutting
DON TIRRI
If you want peace. Prepare for war!
CUT TO:
INT. THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM -- THE RING
MAIN EVENT: SEMI-FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH
"OLD SCHOOL COOL" DON TIRRI vs LOGAN LEWIS vs KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
The ring of the bell halts a brief staring contest and Tirri explodes into action, charging at Lewis and driving her back into the corner with a spear that turns into a knee strike to the midsection on impact. Lewis fires back with an elbow strike that catches Don in the nose, forcing him to back off but the moment he steps away from Logan, she dives in with a pounce and some mounted strikes. Tirri deflects most of them and then swings, just missing what might have been a knockout blow as Kalinda grabs hold of her ankle and yanks her off with the Come Slither! Logan flails but she gets caught into a leg grapevine with a 94-Inch Python added in for good measure – BOOT TO THE HEAD FROM DON TIRRI! Kalinda falls back, momentarily stunned and Tirri turns right around into a stunning bicycle kick from Logan Lewis! He goes down like a sack of dirty laundry and we have our first pinfall attempt!
ONE!
TW—NO!
Kalinda breaks it up and Lewis rolls back to her feet, facing the dragoness. The two collide and Lewis sends Kriegsdottir at the ropes, nailing her with a running bulldog on the rebound. Tirri rolls away and gets back up with the help of the ropes, watching the two women battle it out for a moment with a hint of a smirk on his face until Lewis manages to nail a dropkick to the knee and then springboards off the ropes, looking for a crossbody block on the idle Tirri – DENIED! He catches her midair, bouncing her legs off the ropes and taking Lewis down with a whiplash neckbreaker! He drops down and starts laying some elbow strikes peppered with punches before earning a warning from Ref Stef for the closed fist strikes. Lewis staggers back up to her feet, trying to shake off the blows as the crowd starts to get restless. Tirri backs up to the ropes, and sends Lewis to the canvas with a running spear into a modified spinebuster that shakes the ring and sends the crowd to their feet as Logan Lewis rolls to the outside, crumbling to the floor in agony.
Tirri turns around only to find Kalinda on the top rope on all fours and she launches herself with a double axehandle that misses the mark as Tirri hits the deck – she lands just fine behind him and sweeps his legs out from under him with her tail before it looks like she’s going to lock him into Soul of Misery (elevated Texas cloverleaf) to an enormous pop from the crowd for the old school move but Tirri blocks it and rolls through. He staggers back to his feet, looking like he’s limping just a little but Kalinda is all over him still, peppering him with a series of strikes before spitting mist in his face – BLOCKED! Tirri gets his hand up and the worst of it misses his eyes and then he flicks his wrist and flings it back in her face, getting a bit of a break although he doesn’t move away. Instead he locks his hands around Kalinda's neck and pulls her in close, smashing her in the face with a headbutt and then an elbow across the face. The crowd goes nuts as Kalinda knees Tirri in the gut and tosses him at the ropes in desperation, dropping to all fours and then snapping him in the face with her tail like a scorpion on the rebound. Tirri staggers back into the ropes and is unceremoniously pulled out of the ring by Logan Lewis who starts pummeling him on the outside before dropping him on the floor with a Busted Face Drop (RKO), earning a huge pop from the crowd. She slides under the ropes and pops up with a primal roar – it’s like something from an anime as the pink dragoness and the pastel-haired Lewis collide and crash to the canvas, rolling around. Lewis is throwing elbows while Kalinda is trying to control her arms, looking to get her into position for some kind of submission before giving up that route and just clamping on Lewis’ arm, biting. The flailing stops as Logan Lewis shrieks in pain and outrage and then Kalinda’s got her rolled over, her shin across the back of Logan’s neck as she grabs that same arm, wrenching back with an armbar before her tail snakes around Logan’s midsection, squeezing. She thrashes, looking like she’s going to tap out and then Tirri slams down on top of both of them with an old school elbow drop from the top rope.
He’s first to his feet and he drags Lewis up by her hair and sends her off into the ropes, nailing a perfect shoulder block to the face. Lewis staggers back up and charges at Tirri, connects with a cheap kick to the gut that doubles him over and then nails a running knee to the skull that drops the veteran. She drops for the cover and is yanked right off by Kalinda – PYTHON SWING AND SHE’S SAILING INTO THE CORNER. She hits hard and crumples! Tirri is still down and she pulls his dazed ass back up – KNIGHT-NIGHT! Kalinda Kriegsdottir with the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
TH—NO!
HOLY SHIT! LOGAN LEWIS WITH THE SUICIDE DIVE INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE PINNING PREDICAMENT AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND! HER KNEE HITS KALINDA RIGHT IN THE TEMPLE AND SHE FALLS BACK, TOTALLY DAZED FROM THE IMPACT! THE CROWD IS GOING INSANE! Half the locker room is out at the top of the ramp, watching this spectacle! Lewis staggers up and dives at Tirri with a hard lariat. Tirri ducks, nails a hard elbow to the face and uses Logan's momentum to catch her, flip her up onto his shoulder and plaster her to the canvas with an old school gorilla press slam! He floats over and hooks the leg as the crowd goes insane.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): DON TIRRI
Kalinda dives in to break it up, hitting Tirri in the back of the head with hard kick just as the referee’s hand impacts with the canvas and it’s a.... millisecond.... too.... late! Don Tirri falls back and then rolls out of the ring the second he hears the bell, cradling the back of his head as he inches towards the ramp. It’s all over and Kalinda is almost beside herself as she stomps a mudhole in the nearly unconscious Logan Lewis! The last image before the show fades to the UPRISING copyright is that of the smol pink dragoness being swarmed by security and dragged off Logan Lewis, kicking, screaming and literally breathing fire and smoke! This is swiftly replaced by the updated bracket, reminding everyone watching from home that the final for the championship and the Main Event for the CORONATION Supershow was now set.
© UPRISING 2020
____________________________________________
QUICKIE RESULTS:
"THE CAREER KILLA" BLADE LOPEZ vs ALICE CHAMBERS
MADDI "SKITTLES" BROOKS vs SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX vs SCOTT DUNN (DQ)
SMILES PROTECTION AGENCY vs TRINACRIA
CHRIS MOSH vs SAMANTHA TOLSON
"THE CAREER KILLA" BLADE LOPEZ vs ALICE CHAMBERS
MADDI "SKITTLES" BROOKS vs SIOBAHN "THE SIDHE" MCLEOD
MATTHEW "THE RAVEN" KNOX vs SCOTT DUNN (DQ)
SMILES PROTECTION AGENCY vs TRINACRIA
CHRIS MOSH vs SAMANTHA TOLSON
KENDRICK KROSS vs SAW (DOUBLE COUNT OUT)
SUPER ULTRA FRIENDSHIP GANG vs THE CRUSH
MATT STONE & GASTON GILLET vs HOPE WILLIAMS & SAVANNAH ANDREWS (NO CONTEST)
LUTHER THUNDER vs MICHAEL MAROU
"OLD SCHOOL COOL" DON TIRRI vs LOGAN LEWIS vs KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
HUGE SPECIAL THANKS TO JANI AND KNOX FOR THEIR INVALUABLE ASSISTANCE WITH SOME CLUTCH MATCH WRITING!
HUGE SPECIAL THANKS TO JANI AND KNOX FOR THEIR INVALUABLE ASSISTANCE WITH SOME CLUTCH MATCH WRITING!