The show opens with cameras panning all over the Dean Smith Center, and lights flashing. The FUSE-wire is showing random superstars in random matches.
SA: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO CHAPEL HILL! WHERE WE ARE LIVE AND ON THE VERGE OF THE WAR IN WASHINGTON!
HJ: Yep.
SA: I’M SCOTT AMBROSE, AND WITH ME AS ALWAYS THE SOON TO BE HALL OF FAMER, HUNTER JONES!
HJ: You bet your ass. You bet your daughter’s ass.
The camera picks out signs in the crowd such as: “My Mom is The Scourge” and “FUSE=Rhine.” Finally the camera settles in on the announcer’s booth.
SA: Fans, we’ve got an exciting evening planned for you. We will have a tower preview match, and Ethan Frost will be back in action.
HJ: I’ll be over here not giving a crap about Ethan Frost if you need me.
SA: Also, tonight Mayson Colby squares off against…
And with that the lights die, and the FUSE-wire displays the following bold-faced white text.
Affliction – noun: a state of pain, distress, grief, or misery.
Scott Ambrose throws his notes over his shoulder in disgust.
SA: Well, I should have seen this coming.
“Pet” by A Perfect Circle hits the audio system, and various images of Affliction destruction are present on the FUSE-wire. Clinton Sage busting open Jacob McKail, El Diablo stapling three 6’s on Cruise’s back, Lane Stevens hitting Darcy Crisis with a steel chair, and Jeb Stewart clotheslining John Covel. A seconds later the boos grow in volume exponentially.
HJ: They never make me wait!
Walking out of the back first is Clinton Sage and El Diablo. They stand side by side, each with a title belt on their shoulder. They touch their titles together, in a sort of golden high five.
HJ: Now isn’t that just precious!
SA: That’s not the word I had for it.
They start to walk down to the ring. They are followed by Lane Stevens and Jeb Stewart, who are wearing matching “GET FUCKED” t-shirts with the Affliction logo on the back. Jeb covers up the word “FUCKED” on his shirt, in case his Mom is watching. Saul and The Scourge trail the whole group. The former holds a mic in his hand.
SA: I called the jerk store, and they were all out of these guys.
As they near the ring Stevens goes ahead of the group, and holds the ring ropes open for the two champions who step in the ring quickly, each giving a nod in the River Rat’s direction. The rest of the group files in afterwards. Clinton Sage motions for the music to be cut, and it is. And as per usual, Saul hands the microphone to Lane Stevens.
Lane Stevens: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE HOUSE THAT SAGE BUILT!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The River Rat looks genuinely surprised by the reaction he gets.
Lane Stevens: Silly me, this is the house that Dean Smith built…
Pop.
Lane Stevens: …and then Coach K owned.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
HJ: Hahahahahaha.
Lane Stevens: We come before you tonight, just a week away from a big pay-per-view extravaganza, maybe you’ve heard of it, The War in Washington…something like that.
SA: It will be a huge event.
Lane Stevens: Pay-per-view buy rates are projected to double from the last event, and I’ve got a theory. You see, this fine piece of technical wrestling ass right here…
Lane points to himself, and the crowd lets him hear it again.
Lane Stevens: …is in double the matches that he was in during the last event. Coincidence?
Lane turns towards Sage, as if he was asking him the question, and the Universal Champion shakes his head vigorously.
Lane Stevens: I think not. You see, first you get to see me and the big man here…
Lane pats Jeb’s chest.
Lane Stevens: …take on the village idiot Darcy Crisis, and his cun…
Clinton Sage reaches out and covers Lane’s mouth, and whispers something in his ear.
Lane Stevens: Shit, I forgot. People get all sensitive about that word around here. And his SPERM GUZZLING TRAMP OF A WIFE!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
SA: Jesus.
Lane Stevens: See, I can censor myself.
Sage nods, suppressing laughter.
Lane Stevens: And then you get to see me step into Thunderdome, or something.
SA: It is called the Tower match. And please Hunter, no Thunderdome quotes.
HJ: Damn you!
Lane Stevens: Well, for all the Thunderdome participants…minus my main man El Diablo, I got a little advice. Camera-man, get in here a little bit.
The camera does so, zooming in on The River Rat’s face.
Lane Stevens: Life is full of disappointments; I wouldn’t get too attached to the idea of winning. Especially you, Covel. You’ll be working dark matches in no time at this rate, you fucking hack.
SA: That’s not exactly fair.
Lane Stevens: Break it down for ‘em, champ.
Lane tosses the mic to El Diablo.
El Diablo: Well, well, well, wasn't last week fun?
The crowd boo, remembering what The Mexican Devil did to Jason Cruise last week.
El Diablo: I got to staple MY number onto that never-will-be-a-FUSE-Champion, Jason Cruise.
SA: Then he stapled you to the ring mat.
HJ: I don't think he cared.
The Creator of Controversy then points to the stitches going across his forehead.
El Diablo: I know you thought you gained some measure of revenge after I was victorious last week by stapling my head to the mat, Jason. But as you saw last week, I didn't mind it one bit. I relish pain, I look forward to it, in fact if I go without pain for an extended period I begin to crave it, I get anxious until I can get my next fix of it.
The crowd go silent, somewhat shocked at what they had just heard.
El Diablo: I love the brutality involved in wrestling, and unfortunately for you, as much as I relish pain I relish inflicting pain even more.
As usual when The Affliction are out here, the crowd go crazy with their jeers.
SA: He is insane.
HJ: Show me some proof of that.
SA: (motions to the ring) THAT!
HJ: Oh that, that's nothing.
The Mexican Devil caresses his LiveWire Title to the absolute disdain of the FUSE fans.
El Diablo: That is why, Jason Cruise, I challenge, no DEMAND, that you meet me backstage, not for a fight, but so you can be welcomed into my world. And believe me Jason, that is a world you'll wish you'd never encountered.
The Creator of Controversy holds the microphone out, waiting for the Universal Champion to commandeer it. Clinton Sage grabs the microphone and takes a few steps towards the middle of the ring.
HJ: This is the best part of the night.
SA: I’d rather have a colonoscopy.
HJ: I hear John Covel is in the back, you know.
‘The Seventh Sin’ stands there, the FUSE Universal Championship slung over his left shoulder. Before speaking, he pulls a small object out through the neck of his shirt and kisses it really quickly, before dropping it back down.
SA: What was that?
HJ: A good luck charm, why are you so god damned nosey? Let the man speak!
SA: All I’m doing is my job, Hunter. I want to know why this bastard kissed whatever it was hanging around his neck!
Sage: Well, well, well. The more things change, the more they stay the same. And as cliché as that may sound, it’s nothing but the concrete truth when The Affliction are the center of the conversation.
Standing beside the Universal Champion, Lane Stevens curtsie’s for the crowd, giving dual middle fingers in the process. The crowd doesn’t like that. Guarding opposing sides of the ring, their arms folded across their chests, are The Scourge and Jeb Stewart.
HJ: Ain’t nobody breaking up this party.
Sage: Week after week, we come out here and open the show to huge ratings. Week after week, some dumb shit thinks that he has what it takes – the proverbial balls, if you will – to be ‘the one’ that stops myself, Lane, or our devilish friend in the LiveWire division. Week in, week out.
Clinton cocks his head to the side, like a curious parrot. A frown appears on his face. Saul, jumping in as if this were rehearsed, whispers into Clinton’s ear.
Sage: What? What was that Saul? NOBODY HAS FUCKING PUT A CHINK IN OUR ARMOR?
”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
SA: The arrogance inside our Universal Champion is unmatched.
HJ: Jealousy of arrogance. You’re a sad, little man with receeding hair.
SA: That sounds like a stinky cologne.
Sage: It’ Paul Cain. It’s Jason Cruise. And speaking of chinks…do you know who it isn’t? It isn’t Tsuyoshi Tanaka. And why is that? Because he’s a god damned coward. Last week, we’ve got this shit-for-brains asshole Paul Cain think that standing up to me will earn you some respect in this business.
‘The Seventh Sin’ shakes his head side to side.
Sage: It only earns you a hospital visit. And we’ve got Jason Cruise standing up to our Mexican Devil. The stitches in his forehead prove that we’ll go to whatever lengths it takes to demolish anyone standing in our way…
HJ: They’ll even sleep with your wife, Scott! OINK OINK, HERE PIGGY!
SA: …it’s Peggy, you asshole.
HJ: …I smell bacon!
Sage: …but the one person who should be standing here, eye-to-slanty eye with me…well, he hasn’t even had the balls to do anything of the sort. Sure, I hear little insults thrown from him while he’s talking to someone unimportant like Timo Bolamba or…well, I don’t know who Tanaka hangs out with. But you know what? For someone who should be challenging me for this Universal Championship in a week…well…he’s been a bit of a ghost.
Lane Stevens just can’t hold back anymore, you can see the tension tightening the veins in his neck and temples, and he shouts out “He’s a CUNT!” and then suddenly exhales explosively, falling to one knee out of mock exhaustion. Saul comes to his aid, and lures him up from the mat with a 500 dollar green poker chip.
HJ: Works every time.
Clinton Sage stares into the camera, his dismissive demeanor dropping away to sudden iron-clad intensity.
Sage: You know where we are, Yoshi. Each and every week, we’re right here opening the show. The rookies have found us. The rookies have had the balls to do something. But you’re showing your true colors, your true cowardice. All I keep hearing is ‘it’s Tanaka’s time to shine’ in FUSE…yet, you’re being given the opportunity and you’re just shrugging it off without a care. Without motivation.
Jeb Stewart, guarding the side of the ring facing the entrance ramp, turns around and looks at the leader of the Affliction, knowing what is coming. He visibly winces with Clinton’s words.
Sage: The careless and unmotivated? I rip them limb from motherfucking limb.
HJ: HOT DAMN, HERE IS THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION OF THE WORLLLLLLD!
SA: Why you cheer for this man, I’ll never know.
Sage: I send them back down to the midcard, where they belong. I prove to them that where I stand, they don’t. Where I command the ring, they run from it in fear. And we haven’t even wrestled yet…and you’re already afraid. Just wait until Washington, I’m going to step through these ropes against you, out wrestle you and out cheat you, and then walk out of that arena as the Universal Champion. And you?
Now it’s Lane Stevens’ turn to nod in approval of the fast-approaching insult. It’s a group effort, you know.
Sage: Well, you’ll just do what you keep on doing, and have been doing. Failing when the chance is laid out before you. Wading in pools of mediocrity. Forgetting to etch your name into the history books, where I’ve etched mine. This is the Main Event scene, Tanaka…and clearly when the spotlight is on you, you just run away from it.
And just like that, Clinton Sage tosses the microphone up into the air over his shoulder, and raises the FUSE Universal Championship high above his head.
”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
SA: Those are some very strong, stinging words for the War In Washington challenger, Tsuyoshi Tanaka!
HJ: Sometimes the truth hurts, Hunter. Sometimes it pins you in the middle of the ring, or chokes you out as the entire world watches you fail on a grand scale.
SA: Does he pay you to say these things?
HJ: In French fries.
Every member of The Affliction stands around, swimming in the ocean of disapproval. Smiles, looks of concentration, a black mask, and a rather large Southern Boy with a look of confusion stand around the ring.
And then they file out, one by one, knowing that they’re the bestdamned thing this federation has ever seen.
We head to the back where the Cowboys from Hell are just entering the arena. They are each carrying a black shopping bag. Our intrepid reporter, the lovely, if not dense, Dominique is able to catch up with them.
Dominique: Wyatt, Connor...
This brings the Cowboys from Hell to stop in their tracks, Jake Ennis stares a hole right into the forehead of the rather airheaded interviewer.
Jake: Wyatt, tell me she didn't just call me what I think she just called me?
Wyatt: She did, man.
Jake walks up to Dominique and looks down on her, not that hard to do when you stand more than a foot taller than the person giving you an interview.
Jake: Now, when are the morons that are in this organization going to realize that if they are refering to moi, that they should now refer to me by my first name. First it's the website, now it's the interviewers.
At this moment, the FUSE webmasters are scrambling to try and make the change on the roster page before the fans notice it.
Jake: But worse of all, we are the champions here in FUSE, and no one in.....what city are we in?
Wyatt: Chapel Hill.
Jake: Right, no one in Chapel Hill has the balls to face us. Even after we destroyed FUSE's precious Fatal Faction Championship belts, who has stepped up here in....uh....
Wyatt: Chapel Hill.
Jake: Yes, Chapel Hill to defend the Fatal Faction division's honor.
Jake spills out the contents of the shopping bag that he's carrying, broken gold and silver plates and a tattered leather strap fall to the ground. Wyatt does the same.
Jake: You bet your ass that we aren't happy about this. We are going into War in Washington, and we still don't have challengers for our titles. You know what that tells me, that these belts are worthless. So, we made them to look how they are worth. Now, I thought that there were going to be two men in the back that had the cajones to challenge us to liberate these broken, and sad pieces of metal and leather from us. But no.
Jake and Wyatt turn to leave, when all of the sudden, Riley Black appears.
Jake: Well, if it isn't the man that promised us competition for these belts.
Riley: Jake, Wyatt, you've done me great favors. But last week, you struck a nerve. Those belts are bigger than the two of you. They were to represent an expansion in FUSE. At great expense, I had these made.
Riley snaps his fingers and two of the security guards present new belts.
Riley: These are the new FUSE World Fatal Faction championship belts. Now, last week, you destroyed the old belts, but it doesn't mean anything, because I like the two of you. You two have the moxie that previous champions have lacked.
The two members of Black Shirt Security hand the belts over to Jake and Wyatt.
Riley: You're also right. You're the champions, and you haven't had a chance to defend your belts properly. In the making of these new belts, I signed a top team from Japan to be the new number one contenders and your opponents at War in Washington.
Riley snaps his fingers again, and another member of Black Shirt Security hands a folder to each member of the Cowboys from Hell. Jake and Wyatt open the folders, and have a hard time holding back their laughter as they look at their opponents.
Riley: I've been assured that they will present a great challenge to the two of you, one that you feel that you deserve.
Jake: Yeah, this one with the 24 centimeter pythons looks rather vicious.
Wyatt: I don't think I can take beat this guy, with that roll of dimes he calls a neck.
Jake: Well, Riley, you've outdone yourself. This is just the competition we were waiting for here in FUSE. Thank you.
Riley: No, thank you. But the two of you had better get ready, because right here, in.......
Wyatt: Chapel Hill.
Riley: Yeah, right here in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, the home of the Duke Blue Devils...
That last remark draws the ire of the fans here in Tar Heel country.
Riley: The two of you are going to have a warm up. You are going to have a gauntlet match, where those belts will be unified with the World Tag Team Champions with Dubai's Pro Wrestling Arabia, Spain's Círculo de la Fuerza and Peru's Lucha de Campeones Globales.
Wyatt: Hopefully that team isn't Prohibido y Exiliado.
Riley: Well, hopefully you two brought your ring gear, because the match is coming up. Good luck, in bringing the World classification to your new belts.
Jake: Don't worry, we'll take care of business again.
Tonight’s opening match began with Paul Cain coming out to slight cheering from the fans. He slide underneath the ropes, and waited in his corner for his opponent. Ethan Frost came out to a slightly larger reaction; a mixture or cheering and confusion from fans. After he entered the ring, both men met in the middle for a handshake and warm wishes for a good match.
Frost tried to overpower Cain a few times, but seemed rusty and Cain was easily able to escape. Cain narrowly missed the 3 count with a huge body press off the top rope, but Frost dug deep and managed to kick out, following shortly with brainbuster suplex which earned him his own near pinfall.
Cain tried wearing down the bigger man with a number of leg locks, but in the end Frost obtained the pinfall after a huge powerbomb.
[Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break]
The camera shows a well decorated office, dimly lit with prints of fine art of every variety lining the walls along with several prestigious awards and diplomas, proof that this office belongs to someone of some significance. And, of course, in the very center of the room, laying back on a psychoanalyst couch, eyes closed, arms crossed behind his head, a cigarette pointing straight up out of his mouth, there lays a man that has only garnered hate in his time spent at FUSE. An asshole of the highest caliber. A man with the audacity to call himself ‘The Second Coming’.
Sean Sterling.
The fans erupt into a chorus of boos as Sterling yawns and stretches on the couch, just as the door to the office opens. Sterling cracks an eye open and looks over at the now open door to see Dr. Rouge stepping in, dressed in the typical sultry lady-suit, fully equipped with long legs stretching out from the skirt, her hair pinned up in a bun, and her eyes peering down through her glasses at the clipboard in her hand. She shuts the door behind her and steps further into the room, her high heels click-click-clicking on the floor as she comes to sit in a chair across from Sterling. The two sit in silence, Sterling looking to Dr. Rouge and Dr. Rouge looking to her clipboard, occasionally writing something on it with a pen. A clock hanging on the wall ticks, breaking the deafening silence every second… until Sterling speaks up, his voice sounding somewhat frustrated.
Sean Sterling: Hey, doc, listen… uh… not to rush you or anything, but do you think you could go ahead and get on with it? In case you didn’t know, I’ve got my first ever main event match to win tonight.
Silence. No answer. Dr. Rogue continues writing on her clipboard without even acknowledging Sterling’s presence. Sterling sits up, waving his hands frantically toward her.
Sean Sterling: Hello? Earth to Doctor Whatever-your-name-is! Wake up and get with the goddamn appointment! I haven’t got all day.
Nothing. Dr. Rouge sits calm, without even looking at Sterling, offering him nothing but a soft sigh. At this point, Sterling starts to get angry, slamming his fist against the back of the couch as he jumps to his feet, this time yelling.
Sean Sterling: HEY. HEY BITCH. Yes, you! Ms. I’ve Got a Really Fancy Clipboard! Wake! The! Fuck! Up! For the love of God and all his fucking angels, please get on with it! Do you hear me? Goddammit, answer me! You fucking cun--
Dr. Rouge: Stop right there.
Sean Sterling: …zwuh?
Dr. Rouge: If you even utter that filthy word in my presence, I’ll have you fired on the spot.
Sean Sterling: Woah, woah, woah, little lady! You can’t do that!
Dr. Rouge: Try me. Now, the sooner you sit down and keep your mouth shut, the sooner we can start this appointment and the sooner you can get to your precious match.
At first, a look of absolute confusion crosses Sterling’s face, followed by wide eyed shock as if he has never been spoken to like that before. He starts to say something, but shuts himself up. He starts to say something else, but once again stops himself before the words come out. Finally, he settles on grumbling under his breath and falling back on the couch, crossing his arms and frowning like a spoiled child as Dr. Rouge continues to scribble on her clipboard. After another long moment of silence, she speaks up with a calm voice.
Dr. Rouge: How are you today, Mr. Sterling?
Sean Sterling: I’d be a hell of a lot better if I didn’t have to go through with this bullshit.
Dr. Rouge: You seem completely against the idea of all of this. Are you bothered by it?
Sean Sterling: Bothered? Lady, that doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel about this. I’m bothered by it, offended by it, abhorred by it, displeased by it, outraged by it, and really bloody pissed off by it. You get me? I don’t want to be here. At all.
Dr. Rouge: Well, Mr. Sterling, I’m afraid that you really don’t have much of a choice in the matter, if you want to keep your job. You understand why you’re here, don’t you?
Sean Sterling: Honestly? I haven’t the faintest idea as to why I’m here. I’m being treated like a goddamn loony. I mean, I understand why you might want to have a little talking with Colby, but me? I mean, I’ve got my own little quirks and problems, but don’t we all? I’m completely sane, for God’s sake! I’m ten times more intelligent than most the goddamn half-witted Neanderthals that make up this oh-so-illustrious organization!
Dr. Rouge: Mr. Sterling, I assure you that no one is doubting your sanity or intelligence. I’m sure you have a sound mind and I’m sure you’re as perspicacious as you claim. However, what I, as well as this company, are doubting is your ability to maintain this job with the kind of performance that we’re expecting from you. Generally speaking, the time that you’ve spent here has been riddled with rebellious actions that go against company policy. You’ve turned yourself into a loose cannon and this all erupted last week when you injured a fan. Do you feel no contrition over that, Mr. Sterling?
Sean Sterling: No, I don’t. I don’t feel a damn thing over that.
Dr. Rouge: Nothing? No guilt whatsoever?
Sean Sterling: None. Nada. Zero. In my opinion, the kid got in the way. His fault, not mine. Besides, from what I hear, the kid is getting paid a fortune now. He’s got the good life. What’s he have to complain about?
Dr. Rouge looks slightly taken aback by Sterling’s honesty as a wide grin spreads across his face. He crumbles his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and crosses his legs, leaning into the couch as he raises an eyebrow to Dr. Rouge.
Sean Sterling: Now, if you don’t mind, tell me something. What exactly do you expect to figure out by making me go through this shit?
Dr. Rouge: It’s an analysis of your mental capability to hold your position in FUSE.
Sean Sterling: Wait, wait. I thought you just said this wasn’t about my ‘mental capabilities’?
Dr. Rouge: No, I said this wasn’t about whether you were sane or insane.
Sean Sterling: That’s the same fucking thing!
Dr. Rouge: No, Mr. Sterling, it isn--
Sterling slams a fist against the couch, standing up once more as he raises his voice to a shout.
Sean Sterling: Fuck all if it isn’t! You’re here to measure my brain, aren’t you?! Well, fuck you, lady!
Dr. Rouge: Mr. Sterling, please calm down!
Sean Sterling: Fuck off, you cunt!
Dr. Rouge: Mr. Sterling!
Sean Sterling: I don’t give two shits what you think of what I say!
Dr. Rouge: Well, understand this, Mr. Sterling! Your future here in FUSE rests on my shoulders! I gave you a warning about saying that, did I not? From here on out, you are banned from using that hideous word!
Sean Sterling: What the hell?!
Dr. Rouge: You heard me! If I hear you use that word again or if you even utter the word while doing your job, your contract will be null and void, Mr. Sterling. Do you understand that?
Sterling stares at Dr. Rouge, as if dumbfounded, his eyes wide. With one resounding scream of ‘fuck all!’ he stomps toward the door, pulling it open and slamming it shut without another word, leaving Dr. Rouge sitting alone in the office, back to writing on her clipboard. As she writes, she speaks the things she says.
Dr. Rouge: Patient one… Sean Sterling… Shows signs of anger issues, nihilism, narcissism, anti-social behavior, and perhaps even a Superiority or God complex. Risk level, high. Chance of recovery or change, low.
With that, Dr. Rouge tucks her pen into her shirt pocket with a sigh, turning and leaving the room, holding that omnipresent clipboard underneath her arm.
This was not FUSE as Ethan Frost knew it. Ok sure enough, the show was still called Killzone and the company was still called FUSE, but everything else had changed. For a start there was the roster, walking up and down the corridors of the arena the various names on dressing rooms were alien to him.
Paul Cain…
Mayson Colby.
Connor Ennis
Sean Sterling.
The list went on and on, names that just didn’t ring a bell, he wasn’t about to judge them, he knew the type of company that FUSE was, if you couldn’t deliver the goods you weren’t hired simple as that. It was just that Frost was not used to all of this, after the past few months he had experienced, he wanted a sense of normality. Which is probably why he smiled when he came across a dressing room , clearly the best the arena had to offer, even the door oozed lavishness, it belonged to Clinton Sage.
Frost paused at the door and stared at it, part of him was tempted to knock and say hello, ask him how things were going. But not even Fred Fusion would do something that ridiculous and Fred was his number one priority at the moment, he needed to find his partner, he needed to get all the info from him, see what the plan was, hell he just wanted to catch up with him and see his best friend.
There in lied the problem though. Frost had been walking the corridors up and down since his match with Paul Cain, but still could not find a dressing room for Fred. He had just started his next lap of the arena when one of the Security guards, in other words a student who had been hired for the evening.
Generic Security Guard: Can I help you sir, it’s just that this is the fourth time I have seen you walk past, trying to score something?
Frost decided to ignore the obvious shot at him and moved onto the point at hand.
Frost: Fred Fusion, have you seen him?
Generic Security Guard: Not for a long time Ethan.
Frost: What do you mean?
Generic Security Guard: Fred’s gone. He lost his title and then he left, no-one has seen him since.
Frost: Fred’s gone?
Generic Security Guard: Did I stutter or something, Fred’s gone.
Frost: Fred’s gone.
The generic security guard began to feel slightly uncomfortable, pointed to something that wasn’t there and sidled off down the corridor. Ethan was stood there mouth agape as he allowed himself to fall back against the wall and slide to the floor, bringing his knees up almost around his head.
Frost: ….Fred’s gone.
Cut back to the locker room area, Jason Cruise visibly fuming. The lines around his eyes are narrow, his lips set into a thin, almost angry, line. His jet black hair, spiked so perfectly on most occasions, is ruffled into a soft mess.
Jason Cruise (JC): Dammit. Damn these no good pieces..
His voice trails, it's not a mystery what words probably would have fallen from his lips.
JC: Low-down, arrogant, scumbags. They want to play games with me.. I can play games.
Jason paces.
JC: El Diablo wants to call me out. Me?!
Smirk.
JC: I'll come get some.
Simple; it's a promise.
"You can't fight this battle alone."
Enter the New Era.
There's something calming about the drawl of the Custom Chaos Champion, Jonathan Rhine. You would expect that someone who held such onto the symbol of extreme in FUSE would be knocking over trash cans and shoving his way around the backstage arena. Not Rhine. Instead the New Era stands behind Jason Cruise, his voice instantly recognizable to the Prophecy.
JC: I don't remember asking --
Jonathan Rhine (JR): Not here, not like this. I'm looking out for you, Jason.
JC: I don't need...
He catches himself, he knows Rhine isn't here to confront him.
JR: Jason, I'm looking out for you. You don't have to do it like them, you don't have to stoop to their levels to get your point across.
JC: I know.
JR: You DO know, but you act differently. The staple gun?
Jason grins.
JC: That felt nice.
JR: Yeah, I'm sure it did. But what's next? What about when the staple gun becomes something more serious? Something life threatening?
JC: I don't know.
JR: That's right, you don't. You haven't thought this through. Take the high ground, beat El Diablo in the ring, where it counts.
Jason turns to him.
JC: That's your game, Rhine. That's you.
JR: You can fight the good fight too.
JC: You're right, I can. But I can be more. I can --
Rhine cuts him off.. again.
JR: You can be what? You can just like them? You're better than that, Jason. We both know it.
JC: So what do you propose I do? I can't be you, Jonathan.
JR: I'm not asking you to be me. Just let me help. You just have to meet me in the middle.
Jason takes this in for a moment, sitting there, silently.
JR: Well?
JC: Yeah.
JR: Yeah what?
JC: The middle might work.
JR: Alright then. Now get your head straight.
Pause.
JR: We've got a big match tonight.
JC: We?
JR: Yes, we. It has to start sometime.
Jason nods as Rhine steps out of the room. Cruise watches as the New Era exits, listening to his feet crack against the concrete until he is out of view. Cruise's glare lends itself towards the camera, staring directly at us.
JC: We. Hrm.
Pause.
JC: There's something I've got to do alone first.
Cruise grabs his duffel bag and exits the room.
Black.
The arena lights dim and “Crimes” by A Perfect Circle begins to play as Mayson Colby makes his way to the ring. The FUSE Wire loops Sterling grabbing the tights for the 3 count, Colby fighting with Jeb Stewart outside the ring, and other studio shot videos.
SKYE: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 215 lbs and coming out of San Diego, CA…MAYSON COLBY!
Colby slides under the rope and looks around at the fans for a minute before stretching, preparing for his match.
SA: Colby in the ring now. This man has had a lot of bad luck since coming into FUSE, mostly all of it stemming from Sean Sterling.
HJ: Cunt!
SA: That word is offensive, and you shouldn’t use it.
HJ: I say what I want!
The lights brighten in the arena, nearly blinding the chorus of Young Bucks “Get Buck” blare through the PA System.
## Haters tryin to ban a playa mayne (It's OK!) ##
##I bounce back watch me do my thang (It's OK!) ##
##I got my Chevy hoggin up the lane (It's OK!) ##
##I'm a boss I can make it rain (It's OK!) ##
##Now get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
##Get buck (Watch me do the damn thang) ##
Breaking the light is a silouhette that walks stoicly down the aisle, once breaking the light he stands nearly in a mix of disgust and disbelief surverying his surroundings. He stands and shakes his head before running down the aisle and diving into the ring with grace invetween the bottom and the middle rope coming cleanly into a forward roll, landing on his back and in one swift move kipping up.
##Let's play the game I'm the quarterback, don't stop homey##
##I go to jail if I get sacked, so block for me##
##Eight ball in my corner pocket, it's on and poppin##
##Got the whole club leanin wit' it, and body rockin##
##Drunk drivin in my Cut dawg, I got my truck parked##
##Seventy Two Tennessee Titan like what up y'all?! ##
##I'm home boy, holla at ya homeboy##
##Better come quick, once I get it then it's gone boy
##First come first serve, fuck what ya heard##
##I'm piecin out my pack till I come up on a bird##
##Blow the smoke out my nose, pimpin on these hoes##
##They know me at the bank love me at the jewelry stores##
##I play it how it goes, the butterfly doors##
##On them old school vogues with the chrome on the toes##
##These punk figgas know, that I will let it go##
## (I bet he got a vest) No but I got my tech though##
Pride saunters towards the ropes and places one foot on the middle and one on the top, folding his arms and looking out through the crowd shaking his head in disapproval towards the crowd.
SA: Prince Pride is another newcomer who has had a lot of controversy since coming into FUSE. Apparently, even years later, he can’t shake off the name of his father, the illustrious Tony Pride.
HJ: I’ve never heard of him.
SA: He was never a wrestler in the circles we worked with, but the man is a bona fide legend in the now-defunct National Wrestling Council. Unfortunately, his son has not had the same success that he did since joining FUSE.
Prince Pride steps down, looking at the crowd and jawing at some fans. Colby waits for him to turn around, then grabs him in a grapple as the referee calls for the bell.
DING DING DING!
SA: Mayson Colby and Prince Pride lock up, and the bigger man Pride easily takes advantage.
Indeed, Prince quickly turns the grapple into a side headlock, then flips behind Colby and applies a hammer lock. Colby instinctively shoots out an elbow behind him, but Prince ducks and uses Colby’s momentum to spin him around. Colby is only dazed for a second before getting tossed over in a belly to back suplex.
Prince throws his arms out to the side to get a quick chorus of boos, then saunters over to where Colby is getting to his feet. Pride hits Colby with a boot to the stomach, then using his left arm tosses Colby over in a Japanese Armdrag. Pride keeps a hold of the arm and begins to apply an armbar, but Colby quickly grabs the nearby ropes with his other arm.
SA: Prince Pride is taking a quick advantage early. He might be a bit…maniacal, as it were, but the newcomer from Norman, Oklahoma is a great technical wrestler.
HJ: HE’S MY SAVIOR! WOOOO!
Colby gets to his feet although Pride still has a hold of the arm. Colby punches Pride twice, then uses Pride’s hold on his arm to fling him into the ropes. As Pride comes back, Colby hits him with an elbow to the face, then spins into an elbow drop to hit him while he’s on the ground.
SA: Ladies and gentlemen, just want to remind you that this is our final installment of Killzone before the War in Washington Pay-Per-View next week at the Verizon Center. And I tell you, we have tons of action coming up at that show.
HJ: You got that right!
Colby lifts Pride to his feet, then hits a stiff uppercut on him, knocking him back against the ropes. Colby grabs Pride and whips him into the opposite side, but Pride reverses. Coming back, Colby is picked up by Pride but not enough, as he slips behind him and suddenly hits a huge reverse DDT.
SA: At that show we have…well, wait, now we have a cover!
ONE! “ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!”
TWO… “TWOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOHHHHHH!”
SA: No, Prince Pride kicks out. Like I said, folks, at War in Washington we have so many great matches. First off, we have the blood rivalry of The Affliction versus Aimz and Darcy Crisis.
HJ: Lane Stevens is my personal savior!
SA: I thought Prince Pride was.
HJ: So I flip-flop, do you expect any less from me?
Colby gets to his feet and grabs Prince Pride, lifting him to his feet and pulling back for a big punch that knocks him into the corner. Colby follows, choking Pride in the corner with his forearm for a few seconds before beginning to lay into Pride with stomps.
SA: Lane Stevens has gone too far with Aimz, if you ask me. He’s made this rivalry personal, and I can’t wait to see her get her revenge on him.
HJ: Oh come on, that’s not gonna happen, The Affliction are bad asses. Aimz is probably going to rag out in the middle of the ring and let Stevens pick up the easy win.
Colby grabs Pride’s arm and lifts him to his feet, but Pride quickly turns the tide with a knee to the midsection. As Colby starts to walk away, dazed, Pride hits a big bulldog on his opponent, then drapes an arm over for a lazy cover.
ONE! “ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
TH… “THREEEEEEE-RAAAAAAAAAH!”
SA: Mayson Colby with the kickout, and you have to think that this young man is getting desperate in FUSE. He’s had to deal with the constant overwhelming abuse from Sean Sterling, now he’s wrapped up in some sick plan by Smitty Duluth, and he STILL hasn’t had a win here!
HJ: Hey, Colby got himself into that mess with STD, he hurt a fan!
Colby tries to crawl towards the ropes to pull himself up, but Pride grabs his leg and drags him towards the center of the ring, turning him over in a Texas Cloverleaf. Colby immediately starts grimacing in pain, and Pride starts shouting “I’M YOUR SAVIOR! YOU HEAR ME! I’M SAVING YOU ALL!”
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
SA: This man is certainly an interesting character, I’ll tell you that much. He’s so messed up by his father’s fame that he wants to destroy the entire sport from the inside out. And he’s done nothing but make enemies here.
HJ: Well, I like the guy, but is it any surprise? He is trying to take down our business, I don’t expect people to go up and shake his hand or anything.
Still locking in the hold, Pride stops focusing on the audience and instead focuses on tightening the hold, and now Colby is starting to scream in pain. The ref asks him if he wants to quit, but Colby uses his hand to shake him off. He can nearly get to the ropes but then Pride loosens the hold enough to drag him across the ring, causing more boos.
SA: Well, Colby’s in a bit of a predicament here.
HJ: Good!
Pride continues to lock in the hold, as Colby screams in pain. Slowly, though, Colby begins to hear the fans cheering and summons the strength to push himself up on his arms. Slightly elevated, he begins to walk with his arms over towards the ropes.
“COL-BY! COL-BY! COL-BY!”
Colby begins to near the ropes, despite Pride’s struggling. Finally, Colby grabs the ropes and the referee forces Pride off of him.
HJ: Big deal, his legs are still jelly.
Colby tries to get to his feet but Pride drags him in the middle of the ring and drops for a pin.
ONE! “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
THR… “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-RAAAAAAAAAH!”
SA: Mayson Colby is not giving up! He wants that win, and even though Pride has the advantage now he’s not quitting!
Pride lifts Colby up and takes him back down in a short armed clothesline, then points to the top rope.
HJ: Prince Pride looking to stomp this punk out!
Pride climbs up to the top, then pauses, posing.
SA: Here he goes with the moonsault!
…
“RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
SA: Colby moved!
Prince instinctively lands on his feet as he sees Colby roll to his feet, but Pride is not quick enough to avoid a kick to the stomach, followed by a big pump handle slam.
SA: Pump handle slam! Colby has Pride out cold!
Colby rolls over for the cover.
ONE! “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
THRE… “THREEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOH!”
SA: Pride with the kickout!
Colby pulls Pride up by his hair, then begins pounding him against the ropes. Colby tosses him to the other side, then catches him with a spear. Lifting him up one more time, Colby signals for the end.
SA: We may see The Grinder here…
Colby pulls Pride up, then grabs him from behind. He lifts him up, but Pride holds his ground, then elbows Colby. As Colby tries to recover, Pride hits a standing savat kick, also known as…
SA: SUPERSTAR SUPERKICK! SUPERSTAR SUPERKICK!
HJ: WOOOO!
SA: What a huge kick, and Colby is down!
After mocking him for a moment, Pride drops on the pin.
ONE! “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
THREE… “THREEEEEEEE-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
SA: NOT YET! NOT YET! MAYSON COLBY IS STILL ALIVE! Pride shakes his head, telling the referee that he got the three count. Frustrated, he stands Colby up and screams “AGAIN!” This time, though, Pride bounces off of the ropes before hitting the Superstar Superkick again, and Colby crumples to the floor.
SA: AGAIN! ANOTHER SUPERSTAR SUPERKICK, AND COLBY CAN’T STILL BE IN THIS!
HJ: I’m tempted to talk about a GWA Championship, but not really sure why. Pride drops for the cover.
ONE! “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
THREE… “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE….”
“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
SA: TWO! ONLY TWO! MAYSON COLBY HAS KICKED OUT OF TWO SUPERSTAR SUPERKICKS!
Muttering angrily, Prince Pride grabs Colby and turns him away, then leaps up onto his shoulders.
SA: Here it is, the Rising Sun!
Before Pride can flip backwards, though, Colby grabs Pride’s legs and drops back in an electric chair drop.
SA: No, Colby isn’t going down! Pride comes back, goes for the punch…
But Colby ducks, grabs Pride from behind…
[*WHAMM!!*]
SA: THE GRINDER! THE GRINDER! MAYSON COLBY JUST TOOK OUT PRINCE PRIDE WITH THE GRINDER! COVER!
ONE! “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
TWO! “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
THREE! “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
DING DING DING!
“RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!”
SKYE: YOUR WINNER…MAAAAYSOOOON COOOOOOOOLBYYYYY!
SA: Mayson Colby picks up his first win in FUSE, and it’s a big one! Prince Pride put on a great match, but he got hit by The Grinder, and Colby goes into War In Washington with a win under his belt!
[Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break]
Backstage.
El Diablo's locker room.
We are greeted by the faint screech of a door softly being peeled open by the bare hand of an uninvited guest, Jason Cruise. His hard brown stare splits the open doorway and he peers into what seems to be a dark, vacant room. Noticeable at first is a soft flickering red bulb, it skips a few beats and then momentarily gives a visual hint to what is beginning to surround Jason as he cautiously enters enemy territory for the first time.
Pictures, lots of them.
Jason Cruise (JC): The hell...
Pictures of Jason Cruise in the ring; Jason blasting Jonathan Rhine in the face with a knee, Jason wrenching back on the arm of Cyrus Raynes, and so forth. Only the final picture... a large, framed life size photo... is of Jason Cruise covering the body of El Diablo when they met weeks and weeks ago. El Diablo's face is hidden underneath a crimson mask but through it all his blood stained teeth are gritted into a disturbing leer. Jason hesitantly approaches the photo, lending a weary eye to the room around him and what begins to materialize as his feet bring him closer to the flickering light astonishes him.
Littering the walls are red sixes, painting a pentagon around the framed picture. In front of what is beginning to resemble more and more of a shrine is an old wooden table and hanging from it is a pair of wrestling trunks.
Jason's shorts.
His fingers trace the lining in the trunks and find their way to a small tape recorder with a note on it.
JC: Play me? Ya think? What a freak.
And so, Jason does as the note says, pressing his finger into the the play button. What he hears is his own voice, reciting something he said last week at Killzone.
"I'll put my body, my life, all of it on the line and we'll have a go."
Static.
JC: Are you kidding me?
And then it plays again.
"I'll put my body, my life, all of it on the line and we'll have a go."
Static.
"My body."
Static.
"My life."
Static.
"My life."
"My life."
"My life."
And the words echo over a dozen more times. Two simple words are played over... and over... and over again.
"My life."
Jason stands their, his fingers delicately pinching his trunks, staring into a photo of himself, listening to his own voice as the camera slowly fades out.
The shot opens up on Smitty T Duluth, who is sitting behind his desk somewhere deep within the arena, rifling through paperwork as if there were no tomorrow.
HJ: Oh great, another boring Smitty vignette. Jesus Christ, I’d rather go back to watching Ethan Frost fumble around like a lost blue haired puppy!
SA: …must you always?
HJ: I must.
SA: Folks, it appears as though Smitty is bogged down by paperwork. Considering our huge PPV event is only a week away, it’s understandable!
Softly playing in the background is the new Matt Kearney song “Undeniable” and even as Smitty Duluth, dressed in a marvelously pressed pin stripe suit with his long sandy blonde hair pulled back away form his face, feverishly races through the papers, adding signatures to a few, we can see that he’s bobbing his head along with this pussy of a song.
That is, until a previously unseen fist slams its way down onto his desk.
SA: What the?
The camera spins around to reveal the most hated man in FUSE. The Universal Champion, Clinton Sage.
HJ: WHEEEEEEE!
Gritting his teeth together, Smitty T. Duluth looks up from his mountain of paperwork and just gives the most honest, heartfelt greeting that he can think of.
STD: What?!?!?
Sage: Is that how you greet your biggest acquisition in history?
SA: Clinton Sage just can’t come down off of Mount Arrogance, can he?
HJ: Once you climb to the peak, you never leave it. It’s like getting AIDS, just…with mountains and peaks and not low white blood cell counts and whores.
The often whimsical commissioner of FUSE stares up at Clinton Sage. He looks a bit disheveled, even in his immaculate appearance. There are slight bags under his eyes. His skin is a little paler than normal, obviously not having been to the tanning beds lately.
The work of putting together a huge PPV is taking it’s toll on the commissioner.
STD: Pardon me if I’m not exactly polite, but I’m pretty busy here, Clinton. So what do you want? I saw your little rant on Tanaka earlier…you are lucky I even grant you and your miserable cohorts the CHANCE to open each and every show!
‘The Seventh Sin’ slowly waves a single finger back and forth an inch or two away from Smitty’s eyes.
Sage: Do you remember the last time you spoke up?
And with the same finger, he points over to Smitty’s trademark stripper pole. At the same time, Duluth closes his eyes and winces at the thought of Clinton Sage ripping the stripper pole off of it’s moorings and choking him against the wall with it.
A closer inspection of the stripper pole reveals huge bolts keeping it to the floor.
HJ: HAH! Now Smitty can have those curvy, overweight stripper’s that he’s always wanted!
SA: I don’t think the reinforcing bolts are meant for…strippers.
HJ: It’s a stripper pole!
STD: So what do you want? I’m busy?
Clinton Sage smiles, his eyes narrowing. He takes a step forward, and sits on the edge of STD’s desk. Reaching down into the neck of his shirt, he pulls out the object he had kissed earlier in the show, removing it from around his neck and placing it on the desk before Smitty.
SA: It’s a golden locket! A heart-shaped locket! What the hell…what does this have to do with Smitty?
HJ: Like I told you weeks ago, if you only waited a few seconds longer before asking stupid questions, the answers would present themselves.
Sage: Open it.
Looking annoyed, Smitty T Duluth sits back in his chair and crosses his arms.
STD: Give me one good reason. What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy trying to put together a pay per view? Why don’t you just go back out into the ring, and rant some more there? Jesus Christ, Clinton…
Sage: Open it, and I’ll leave within a minute. All I want you to do is see the girl I’ve fallen in love with. Since you’re the commissioner of FUSE, you have to approve of new valets being allowed down to ringside. Next week when I face Tanaka, this ravishing beauty will be accompanying me to ringside.
Sighing with annoyance, Smitty finally gives in. He picks up the small locket, opens it, and his eyes explode into shock. He doesn’t say a thing at first, instead he seems to be choking for air.
SA: What the hell? Who is it?
‘The Seventh Sin’ smiles, knowingly. He knew what he was getting into.
STD: Is this another one of your sick, god damned jokes? Well, is it? IS IT?
SA: Who the hell is in that locket?!?
STD: So what do you really want, Clinton? Huh? GOD DAMN IT TELL ME, BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE THE TIME FOR YOUR STUPID GAMES ANYMORE!
The FUSE Universal Champion sits there, letting the Commissioner get out all his anger and frustration. He responds quietly, and quaintly.
Sage: I’m in love with her, Smitty. Accept it, and approve her place by my side next week when I face Tanaka, and every week afterwards. (Turning away from the camera) Michele…come on in.
SA: …oh no. Oh no, oh no no no.
HJ: YAHTZEE! CLINTON SAGE, YOU ARE MY MOTHERFUCKING HERO TWELVE TIMES OVER!
Stepping into the shot is a beautiful young brunette, wearing a very low-cut black top and a matching black leather skirt. Not a whore-ish looking outfit, but actually rather classy and demure. Her brown locks spiral down towards her shoulders, framing a matching golden locket that hangs around her neck.
Her name is Michele Thornton, and well, you know what she’s about to say.
Michele: Hey Daddy…
You can see the life leave Smitty T Duluth. His shoulders slump. His eyes drop, now seemingly resting on the bags beneath them. His gaze falls back down to the paperwork, refusing to watch as Michele Thornton walks over to Clinton Sage, wraps an arm around his massive shoulders, and places a small, quick kiss on his lips.
STD: Michele…honey…I know we’ve had our problems. But this isn’t the way to rebel. Not at all. This man is an asshole, as manipulative as they come. Please, sweetie, just…no. No no no.
SA: Folks…wow. I…I…this is probably worse than the time Clinton Sage visited John Covel’s recently deceased father’s grave.
HJ: Except Michele has great tits, and he’s just skin and bones. HAHA, DO YOU GET IT? SKIN AND BONES!
Clinton Sage reaches down and picks up his locket, once again placing it around his neck before turning towards his newfound girlfriend and smiling. And even the viewers at home know it’s an honest smile, not one being put on for the act of revenge against someone.
STD (numbly): How? Why?
Clinton Sage motions kindly towards the door.
Sage: Why don’t you give your father and I some privacy? We need to talk business, now that he knows. And see? I told you it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.
Michele spins away from her boyfriend and father, and right before she leaves the room, turns back around and smiles at Clinton Sage. She smiles at The Seventh Sin, and he returns the smile. He also stares at her magnificent ass, long enough that STD notices and grows even more angry and uncomfortable.
SA: The god damned nerve of this man, I swear.
HJ: I SWEAR! Did you see that pooper? AYE DIOS MIO!
As Michele Thornton leaves the room, she shuts the door behind her. And as soon as the door shuts, Clinton Sage shoots to his feet and slams both fists down on the desk on each side of the slumped Smitty T Duluth.
Sage: You wanted a war? You’ve got a war! Except the honest to god truth of it is that I DO love her, Smitty. But let me tell you this…next week, I’m walking out of that arena in Washington as Universal Champion. And if for some reason I don’t seem to be heading in that direction, YOU will make sure that I do.
Smitty looks up, dumbfounded and distraught. His only daughter, in love with his most hated acquisition.
Sage: Do you understand? Michele will accompany me down to ringside, and I’m going to rip Tanaka to pieces, proving myself to her in more ways than you could ever know. As long as you’re with me on this, I’ll keep her the happiest girl in the world. But, the second you cross me.
Clinton Sage snags one of STD’s pens off of his desk, holding it close to the stunned Commissioners face for a second before snapping it into two and crushing the ink all over the place in a tight fist.
Sage: I’ll make your life even worse. In the end, Smitty boy, I get what I want. By hook, by crook, or by falling in love with the right girl at the right time. So, like I said…if for some reason that it doesn’t look like I’m walking out of the War in Washington as your Universal Champion, I’m going to just assume that you’ll be there to make sure that doesn’t happen. You’re a smart man…think of something. Anything. As for me? Well, right now I’m going to walk out through that door, rail your daughter in my locker room a few times, and then think about proposing to her in a few weeks.
Clinton Sage leans in closely, wiping the ink from his hands all over the paperwork that Smitty was just rushing through as he had entered.
Sage: Did you ever fathom that falling in love would be the best possible thing to ever happen to me? It all happened so quickly…
SA: Clinton Sage is the worst kind of human being. I’m at a loss for words. An honest to God loss for words, folks.
HJ: Then shut the fuck up, blabbermouth. Damn.
Once again, Clinton Sage pulls the locket out, opens it and smiles down at the picture of Michele Thornton, and places a small kiss on the photograph.
Sage: She has her mother’s eyes. And even though I’ve seen every inch of her body, I can’t seem to find anything that reminds me of you, thankfully.
The former PTC Global Champion stands up and spins back towards the door, opens it, and steps out into the welcoming embrace of Michele Thornton as Smitty T Duluth sits there, stunned into silence.
A humbled, broken father.
*FOOM*
*FOOM*
*FOOM*
The jovial mood in the arena is tarnished as the television screen shows pictures the beginning of the video shown in the arena on the FUSEWire of brawls in the Old West. As the fights are taking place, we are starting to see interspersed images of Wyatt Colton and Jake Ennis as Pantera's "Cowboys From Hell" starts to play.
# OH COME ON! #
The video changes to modern day cops running through the streets during a riot, battles being fought in the Middle East, shaky video of Pantera playing on stage, Wyatt Colton, Jake Ennis and Araceli Negra standing in the desert, stock footage of atomic bomb blasts and fires devastating neighborhoods all firing off and alternating in rapid succession.
# Under the lights where we stand tall #
# Nobody touches us at all #
# Showdown, shootout, spread fear within, without #
# We're gonna take what's ours to have #
# Spread the word throughout the land #
# They say the bad guys wear black #
# We're tagged and can't turn back #
# You see us comin' #
# And you all together run for cover #
SKYE: Making their way to the ring at this time, being accompanied by Araceli Negra......
# We're takin over this town #
The video keeps playing as the image switches to inside the arena as Araceli enters the arena, followed by Jake and Wyatt, who stand to the sides and points to the brand new FUSE World Fatal Faction Championship Belts.
# Here we come reach for your gun #
# And you better listen well my friend, you see #
# It's been slow down below #
# Aimed at you we're the cowboys from hell #
# Deed is done again, we've won #
# Ain't talking no tall tales friend #
# 'Cause high noon, your doom #
# Comin' for you we're the cowboys from hell #
SKYE: At a total combined weight of 505 pounds, they are the current FUSE Fatal Faction Champions, Wyatt Colton and Jake Ennis.........THE COWBOYS FROM HELL!
# Pillage the village, trash the scene #
# But better not take it out on me #
# 'Cause a ghost town is found #
# Where your city used to be #
# So out of the darkness and into the light #
# Sparks fly everywhere in sight #
# From my double barrel, 12 gauge, #
# Can't lock me in your cage #
The Cowboys from Hell slowly make their way to the ring during that verse. When they enter the ring, Wyatt and Jake take off black and red leather trenchcoats and toss them over the top as the music cuts out. Jake then takes off his Stetson and hands it to the ring attendant.
Ambrose: Well, the Cowboys from Hell seem very confident in what they are going to be doing tonight.
Jones: Why shouldn’t they be, after all, they are the FUSE World Fatal Faction Champions, and can beat anyone at a moments notice.
Ambrose: Well, that’s what we’re going to find out, as the representatives from Dubai make their way to the ring.
There is no music playing as two gentlemen in Keffiyeh’s make their way to the ring. They are obviously Middle Eastern in origin.
SKYE: Making their way to the ring, at a total combined weight of 418 pounds, they are Dubai Tag Team Champions the team of Hassam and Omar Nasser.
Ambrose: The report that we’ve been given on the Nasser brothers state that they are identical twins and that Hassam typically wears red while Omar typically wears blue.
Jones: Well, they’re both wearing black trunks, so we can throw that one right out the window. The referee is going to have a hell of a time distinguishing which one is which.
Araceli talks to the referee for a moment and then slips him something. The referee then turns and whispers something into SKYE’s ear.
SKYE: The referee has just informed me that this first stage of the Gauntlet will be contested under Texas Tornado rules.
You can see the look of horror in the faces of the Champions from Dubai. They know that they are screwed. They then look over at the World Fatal Faction Champions as they crack their knuckles and necks and prepare to turn this match into a bloodbath. The brothers Nasser decide that if they are going to lose, at least they are going to get the first shot in, as they charge in and hit stereo dropkicks on the CFH.
Ambrose: And this match has begun, as Araceli gets out of the ring and the Nassers hit a dropkick on each member of the Cowboys From Hell.
Jones: Well, they are about to die, because Colton and Ennis just shrugged them off like they were mosquito stings.
Jones made a fairly accurate observation. Just as one of the Nassers had gotten back to his feet from the dropkick, he is nearly decapitated by Jake Ennis and a 12 Gauge Lariat.
Ambrose: Sweet Jesus, he killed him.
Ennis throws the Nasser out of the ring as Wyatt Colton hits a Calgary Stampede on the other brother. He then rolls him onto his stomach and locks on the sitting Cobra Clutch that he calls the Cowboy Clutch. It doesn’t take long to get the tap out from this move.
#DING, DING, DING#
Jones: The Cowboys have captured the most prestigious Tag Team title in the Middle East, who’s next?
A rock version of the Mexican National Anthem starts to play as the fans are on their feet.
Fans: RUNAMOK! RUNAMOK! RUNAMOK! RUNAMOK!
Jones: No, it can’t be. Not him.
Bolting through the entrance and charging to the ring wearing the Peruvian Tag Team Titles is none other than FUSE’s former Insane Luchador, Runamok. He doesn’t get to far before the Cowboys From Hell start to pound away on him, stripping the title belt off his waist.
Ambrose: What a welcome back to FUSE the Cowboys From Hell are giving Runamok.
Jones: Well, the Cowboys are picking up where they left off after Runamok’s last appearance in FUSE. Only this time, instead of it being a gay cowboy and a martian kicking his ass, it’s the new sheriffs in town.
The referee says something to SKYE.
SKYE: The second leg of the match will be held under No Disqualification Rules.
Again an unfair advantage for the Cowboys, as they are now whipping Runamok with his championship belt. This advantage doesn’t last long, as Runamok’s tag team partner comes from out of no where and blasts Wyatt Colton in the back with a Singapore Cane.
Ambrose: Well, look who’s back.
Justin Illusion hits a second shot with the Singapore Cane across the forehead of Wyatt Colton, busting him open.
Ambrose: Justin Illusion is making his return known, as he’s busted Wyatt Colton open with that hard cane shot.
Jones: At least the Heat Vacuum is going to be heading back to Seattle after this. Without any gold.
Illusion goes for another shot, but his arm is caught by Jake Ennis, who proceeds to take the Singapore Cane from Illusion and starts to hit him over the head with it, proving why he was one of the two former jobbers that continued their employment with FUSE.
Ambrose: Jake Ennis is beating away at Justin Illusion with that Singapore Cane.
Jones: Don’t bring it if you don’t want it used on you, that’s what my mom always said.
Ennis then snaps the Singapore Cane over his knee and tosses it aside. He then exits the ring and pulls up the apron, pulling out…..
RRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Ambrose: It’s the hobby horse that the CFH stole from the RPG a few months ago.
Jones: I was wondering what happened to that thing.
Ennis enters back into the ring and clubs Illusion in the back with it. Justin Illusion then turns around, and Ennis uses the Hobby Horse like a baseball bat, giving a home run swing right to his jaw.
Jones: He hit it hard enough, high enough, it’s going, Going, GONE! Home Run for Jake Ennis.
The shot wasn’t quite enough to knock Justin Illusion off his feet, but the 12 Guage that followed did just that. Wyatt is finally back to his feet, and calls for Jake to head to the top. Wyatt then brings Justin’s nearly lifeless body back to his feet and holds him up.
Jones: This has got to be a recurring nightmare for Justin Illusion.
Ambrose: You nailed it on the head right there.
As Jake prepares to come off the top to hit the Ironhorse, Runamok comes from nowhere and takes Jake down with a shot to the knee from the hobby horse. He then turns to Wyatt Colton, who hits a hard knee and then executes an Irish Whip.
Jones: At least this is more competitive than what we got with the guys from Dubai.
Colton doesn’t waste any motion when Runamok comes off the ropes, hitting another Calgary Stampede and quickly latching on the Cowboy Clutch for another decisive tap out.
#DING, DING, DING#
Ambrose: The World Fatal Faction Champions now have the belts from Peru, but only time will tell who the final…..
Ambrose is cut off by the dongs at the beginning of “For Whom The Bell Tolls (Dynasty S&M Remix)” as two other familiar faces to the fans make their appearance known, carrying the Spanish Tag Team Championships.
Jones: Oh, shit.
Alexis Marin and Uijo Inoki make their way to the ring. They hand the Spanish belts over to the referee as Jake Ennis gets back onto the apron, holding his neck.
Jones: Jake Ennis isn’t in any condition to wrestle; the referee should call this match off.
Ennis and Colton walk up and get toe to toe with the first man to hold the Custom CHAOS Championship since FUSE’s revival over a year ago and his tag team partner.
Ambrose: The Cowboys From Hell are in rather unfamiliar territory. There’s only been one other team in FUSE since they came in that’s been bigger than the big men from Wyoming and Alberta.
Jones: Well, Ambrose, the bigger you are, the harder you fall. After all, the last team that boasted that is the team that the Cowboys From Hell defeated to win the FUSE Fatal Faction Championship Belts.
Ambrose: No thanks to you, I bet. And didn’t they just destroy the aforementioned belts last week.
Jones: Yep, and my buddy Riley Black gave them brand, spanking new title belts because of it.
The Cowboys From Hell are still jawing at the former American Clockwork and LotusDragon, telling them what the law is in FUSE. The referee finally gets Inoki and the bloodied Colton out of the ring as Ennis and Marin circle around the ring for a moment.
Ambrose: Should Marin and Inoki win this match, not only will they have the World Fatal Faction championships, but also will be able to come back to FUSE after being unceremoniously terminated a year ago.
Jones: I’m pretty sure that the boys in the back don’t want that happening. Marin may just be the only guy in the locker room tonight that is an equal with Jeb Stewart in size.
Colton walks up to Marin and puts one finger into his chest, toppling the big man like Marin was shot.
Ambrose: You’ve got to be kidding me.
Jones: Brilliant!
Colton and Ennis just shrug as Inoki looks on. As Ennis goes for the cover though, they realize too late that Inoki and Marin weren’t on the same page as they were.
Ambrose: Marin with the roll up.
1.
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2.
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Ambrose: Marin and Inoki’s duplicity nearly got the three as Wyatt Colton is in there to make the save.
Jones: What the hell is going on? They were paid good money to take a dive. They’re rui…..uh…….
Ambrose: Hunter, please tell me that you weren’t in on this.
Jones: Uh, no.
Colton and Ennis get a moment to double team Marin, but it isn’t enough as Inoki is quickly in there and lighting Wyatt up with a series of kicks. He sends Wyatt for a ride with an Irish Whip. Upon his rebound, Wyatt eats a Mafia Kick from Inoki as Ennis hits a hard clothesline taking Marin over the top and to the floor.
Ambrose: Inoki and Ennis are the only two men standing in the ring.
Ennis turns around and is quickly goozled by Inoki. As he goes to lift the Wyoming Cowboy up for a Chokeslam, Ennis hits a hard kick to the midsection.
Ambrose: Inoki was looking for that chokeslam, but Ennis had it scouted.
Ennis then charges the ropes, and on the rebound, hits his kick and punch combination called Welcome to Wyoming before getting Inoki in a standing head scissor.
Jones: This is it Ambrose, I can feel it.
Ennis lifts Inoki up for an 8 Second ride. Before he slams Inoki down, Wyatt climbs to the top and yells something to Ennis. Ennis then lifts Inoki up and turns him around, so they are both facing away from Colton.
Ambrose: Inoki is in trouble.
Jones: Ya think?
Colton comes off the top and hits the Prarie Dog, slamming Inoki hard to the mat. Ennis rolls Inoki over and goes for the cover, but the referee indicates that he isn’t the legal man.
Ambrose: Inoki isn’t the legal member of his team in this match.
Jones: Well, why isn’t the referee counting Marin out then.
Ambrose: I don’t know.
Marin gets back into the ring, but is caught by the Cowboys with a pair of kicks to the midsection. They prepare to hit a double bulldog on the former Dynasty enforcer, but Marin shows his amazing strength, lifting both men up and dropping them down with a reverse suplex.
Ambrose: Impressive strength from Alexis Marin to get this match back in his team’s favor.
Marin then stalks Ennis with his hand outstretched. As Ennis gets to his feet, he’s goozled again, but this time, Marin lifts him off of his feet and falls backwards into a reverse chokeslam, driving Ennis hard into the mat.
Ambrose: That’s it, we have new champions.
Jones: Get up, Jake.
Marin goes for the cover, hooking the leg. 1.
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2.
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Ambrose: And Wyatt Colton with a leg drop, breaking up the three count on his partner.
Jones: This is why they are the World Fatal Faction Champions.
Wyatt throws another punch as the referee gets him out of the ring. Marin brings Ennis back to his feet and lifts him up for the move that he once called the Countdown. Ennis squirms free and as he lands on his feet, hits the ropes. Marin turns around and is met with a boot to the gut followed by an overhand punch.
Jones: Welcome to Wyoming, Motherfucker!
Ambrose: What did you say, Hunter?
Jones: That’s what he calls that combination, Welcome to Wyoming.
The punch, which would normally send an opponent to the mat, only pissed the 7 Foot Wall of Anger off. The big man from each team then looked at each other. Neither one was making a move towards the other.
Jones: You have a feeling that we’re going to get Peter Griffin versus Ernie the Giant Chicken here.
Ambrose: I don’t want to know where you pulled the reference from Hunter.
Jones: It’s was…
Ambrose: No, don’t want to know.
Jones: But.
Ambrose: Hunter, don’t make me kill you.
Marin goes for a big right hand, but the smaller and slightly more athletic Ennis ducks it and starts laying rights into the former American Clockwork. He continues to pound away and lifts Marin up and slams him down with a massive bodyslam that shakes the ring.
Ambrose: Marin is down and you can see that Ennis is sensing it.
Jones: DO IT, JAKE!
As Marin gets to his feet, Jake runs to the ropes to build up momentum. He crosses the ring and bounces off those ropes to build it up even more. As Marin gets his head up, he takes the hardest 12 Gauge that Jake Ennis has ever hit.
Ambrose: I don’t believe it.
Jones: How?
The fans and Ennis are in shock, as Marin absorbed the 12 Gauge and is still standing. Wyatt Colton slips into the ring as Ennis charges up the ropes again. Only this time, the Cowboys From Hell take Marin off his feet with a Hi-Lo. Ennis is quick with the cover.
1.
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Inoki is in there to break up the three, and then gets tackled by Wyatt Colton.
Ambrose: Marin nearly bought it there.
Jones: That damn LotusDragon had to ruin it.
Ennis goes for a second cover, hooking the leg. 1.
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2.
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Ambrose: And Marin manages to kick out from the second pinfall attempt by Jake Ennis. The Cowboys from Hell thought that they were going to have it easy tonight, but it looks like they bit off a little more than they could chew.
Jones: They are going to get the win here. Don’t worry about that.
Colton and Inoki are on the outside. Inoki goes for a hard right, but Colton ducks it and hits his Colt .45 on the concrete outside of the ring.
Ambrose: And Wyatt Colton looks to have killed Uijo Inoki out here on the outside.
Ennis makes the tag to Wyatt as soon as he gets back onto the apron. The Cowboys from Hell don’t waste any time and hit Alexis Marin with a double reverse STO. For the third time in the night, Wyatt Colton latches on his Cowboy Clutch.
Ambrose: How long do you think that Wyatt is going to be able to keep Marin locked into that?
Jones: As long as he needs to.
Marin isn’t being as accommodating to this move as Runamok and one of the Nasser’s earlier. In fact, he does his best to try and fight the move.
Ambrose: Marin is looking for a way to break out of this move.
Jones: Can’t be done. Not possible. Marin should just tap out.
Marin uses his strength to get up onto his knees and starts to stand up out of this position. Before he can get completely upright, Jake Ennis clips his knee out from under him, dropping him back to the mat.
Ambrose: The damage that Marin’s neck is taking from this move, the pain. It’s hard to imagine.
Jones: Why is it hard to imagine, Ambrose? I’ll put you in that move, and you won’t have any problem imagining the pain.
Wyatt pulls back even more on the hold, while Marin is still fighting it. Ennis is back on the outside, and hits Inoki with a 12 Gauge as soon as he gets back to his feet to keep him from breaking up the Cowboy Clutch.
Ambrose: The ref is checking on Marin. He may be out.
The referee lifts Marin’s free hand up and drops it. He then immediately calls for the bell.
#DING, DING, DING#
Jones: And the Cowboys survive Riley’s gauntlet.
SKYE: The winners of this match, and still FUSE World Fatal Faction and new Dubai, Peruvian and Spanish Tag Team Champions, The Cowboys From Hell!
#DING, DING, DING#
The referee is trying to pry Wyatt Colton off of Marin, but, he isn’t releasing the hold. Again, the ref tries to pry Wyatt off. Finally, the referee starts up a five count. By the time he gets to four, Wyatt finally releases the Cowboy Clutch, as Jake Ennis gets into the ring with eight title belts, handing four of them to Wyatt.
Ambrose: The Cowboys From Hell each have four championship belts, and are now on their way to War in Washington to defend those 8 straps against the new number one contenders that Riley Black has brought in for them.
Wyatt heads over and takes a mic from SKYE.
Wyatt: You see this; this is what happens when you mess with the law. This is what happens when you get in the ring with the Sheriffs of FUSE. This is what happens when you fuck with the Cowboys from Hell.
Wyatt tosses the mic down and the Cowboys from Hell exit the ring as the paramedics get down there and put a neck brace on Alexis Marin. A couple of FUSE officials are helping Uijo Inoki to the back as the paramedics get Marin onto a back board.
Ambrose: Was this worth it? Really, was this what Riley Black had in mind?
Marin is finally taken out of the ring and loaded up on a stretcher. The paramedics wheel Marin up the aisle way and through the entrance. The ring crew is quickly out there, getting the ring ready for the next match.
The camera fades to the back to find Mayson Colby standing in the office that we now know is Dr. Rouge’s. Other than the fact that the room is now empty, not much has changed. Diplomas line the walls. Picture frames scatter the desk. Alone in the center of the room is a long couch. Colby eyes the couch with uncertainty and moves to one corner of the room. As the door opens, his head jerks up as he pretends to study the document on the wall. As she shuts the door behind her, her pen flies across the paper in front of her. She clears her throat, causing Colby to jump and spin around.
Mayson Colby: Uh…hello Mrs. Rouge.
Dr. Rouge: If you were paying any attention to that document you so adamantly pretend to be interested in, you’d know that it was Dr. Rouge and I’d appreciate it if you referred to me by that title, Mr. Colby. Now if you don’t mind, would you please have a seat?
Dr. Rouge motions towards the couch and quickly writes something on her clipboard. When she’s finished, she looks up only to find Colby in the same spot, staring at the carpet. Dr. Rouge taps her foot impatiently and looks at her watch.
Dr. Rouge: It would be in your best interests to do as I ask, Mr. Colby.
Mayson Colby: Well, uh…ok.
Colby slowly shuffles towards the couch as Dr. Rouge jolts down some more notes. Colby glances at her uneasily, and then lowers himself gently on to the seat.
Dr. Rouge: Now, let’s begin. A few weeks ago yourself and Mr. Sterling engaged in a brawl outside the arena, which resulted in the injury of a fan. Do you feel any remorse for your actions that day, or have you no sympathy for the young man?
Mayson Colby: Brandon. Brandon is his name. Not fan. Not young man. Brandon.
Dr. Rouge: Interesting. Please continue Mr. Colby.
Dr. Rouge raises an eyebrow at Mayson and peers at him with eyes squinted behind her glasses.
Mayson Colby: Yeah, um, I feel bad about what happened to Brandon. It was his birthday. Happy birthday, huh Dr. Rouge?
Dr. Rouge: So you’ve visited this young man…uh, Brandon?
Mayson Colby: Yeah. I went to see him after we were released. Felt bad, you know.
Dr. Rouge’s ever present pen hasn’t stopped moving and Colby begins to grow nervous. His eyes dart around the room, before settling on the pen and following it back and forth across the page. Mayson glances to Dr. Rouge, looking for some clue as to what she’s writing. Dr. Rouge looks up at her notes and motions towards the clipboard.
Dr. Rouge: Does this make you nervous, Mr. Colby? The fact that you’re being evaluated and reported on. Keep in mind that whatever my report contains determines the outcome of your position here in this company. What are your thoughts on the matter?
Mayson Colby: Well, I think it’s bullshit. I mean, who are you to determine whether or not I fit in here in FUSE?
Dr. Rouge leans back in her chair and looks quite offended. She crosses her legs and stares at Colby as though studying a creature she has yet to come in contact with.
Dr. Rouge: I’m Dr. Rouge. Whatever else you want to make of that will be your own doing. However, like it or not, I am the one person that can keep you in this company. Please don’t make this difficult on yourself. I suggest you relax and leave the analyzing to myself. Are we understood, Mr. Colby?
Mayson Colby: Yes.
Dr. Rouge: Good. Now, it has come to my attention that you have taken it upon yourself to bring your niece and nephew in to your home to live. Do you think that’s wise, Mr. Colby? Bringing two young children in to the home of such a violent and inconsistent man?
Colby quickly gets to his feet and leans towards Dr. Rouge, pointing his finger towards her and raising his voice.
Mayson Colby: They have nothing to do with his. You leave them out of this.
Dr. Rouge stands and walks towards Colby, grabbing his wrist and pushing his arm down to his side. She stands mere inches away from him, but her face remains calm.
Dr. Rouge: On the contrary, they may well have everything to do with his. Now, if you please, I would appreciate it if you didn’t let your temper get the best of you in my office. Please, take your seat now.
Dr. Rouge places a hand on Colby’s shoulder, before firmly pushing him back down on the couch. She pauses to write more notes on her clipboard, and then walks around Colby, studying him, before returning to her seat.
Dr. Rouge: As I was saying, do you believe two young children growing up in your home is a good idea? Not only do you not have the best track record, but you’ll be on the road most of the time. Who would watch the children? Unless you plan on bringing them to events with you? If so, what about a proper education? These issues need to be address, Mr. Colby.
Mayson Colby: Andrew and Melissa will come with me. I have no other choice.
Dr. Rouge: What about their parents? The best place for a child to grow is in the home of their mother and father.
Colby stands and paces around the room. He stops behind Dr. Rouge’s chair and leans forward, inches from her ear.
Mayson Colby: Their parents?! Which one? The father who left them as infants and who hasn’t been seen since? Their welfare mother who steals from them and disappears for days on end? Yeah, I’m sure that life would be preferable, doctor. You don’t know anything about their lives, so please don’t bother to speculate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sick of this shit.
Colby hits his palm on the back of Dr. Rouge’s chair, and then heads for the door. She clears her throat again, and he stops with his hand on the doorknob, turning around to face her.
Dr. Rouge: Keep in mind what I’ve said, Mr. Colby. Right now, I’m your only friend.
Mayson Colby: I have no friends.
Without giving Dr. Rouge a chance to say anything more, Colby quickly opens the door and steps outside, letting it slam shut behind him. Dr. Rouge sits there, staring at the door for a moment before picking up her pen and writing her final notes for the day.
Dr. Rouge: Patient two…Mayson Colby…also demonstrates anger and anti social issues. Possible authority figure or parental problems. Risk level, medium. Chance of recovery or change, medium.
Dr. Rouge gets up and unlocks a filing cabinet, slipping her notes inside before carefully locking it and putting the key around her neck. The scene fades to black as she leaves the office.
HJ: Now, we get onto to something important, a nice, violent match. SA: As much as I don't agree with violence being the important part, you're right, this match isn't going to be a technical masterpiece, it's going to be an outright brawl.
HJ: This is going to be good, Raynes / Bolamba, this is gonna get dirty.
All the lights in the arena go off, it is completely pitch black.
The opening lines to "Crazy Train" can be heard over the PA system, then the laughter abruptly stops as Cyrus' music starts up. Very dimly the lights come on. Blue fog has covered the entrance and walk way to the ring. Cyrus steps on to the entrance plat form. Showers of sparks begin to cascade down from the rafters covering the walk way. He slowly walks through the showers to the ring. The lights come back to full brightness.
SKYE: Introducing first, from DETRIOT, MICHAGIN.... He is CYRUS.... RAAAAAAAAYNES!!!
He stands at the foot of the ring, reaches up with his right hand, grabbing the top rope and hoists himself up to the mat. He steps over the top rope, takes off his jacket and glasses, hands them to a staff member, points at them and makes a few threats about what will happen to them if he finds anything wrong with his jacket or glasses. Cyrus then walks to either corner facing the entrance ramp, sits on the top rope with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand, looking quite board.
SA: Raynes looks ready to fight, and he's going to have his hands full with Timo, who's been in a fight or two himself.
HJ: Of course they've been in fights, Ambrose... they're wrestlers. What this is going to be is a brawl, where both guys feel they need to prove themselves.
As Raynes sits and waits “Monsta Mack” by Sir Mix-A-Lot hits the speakers, and Timo Bolamba makes his way down to the ring, receiving more than his fair share of jeers from the crowd.
SKYE: ....and His opponent, hailing from APIA, SAMOA.... This...Is... TIMOOOOOO...... BOOOOLAMBAAAAAA!!!!!
He steps into the ring, stares down Raynes, as the bell rings, and the two slowly walk towards each other, exchanging some words.
SA: I expected somebody to jump the bell ehre, but they both seem more satisfied with talking trash.
HJ:: You don't jump the bell with another brawler, they'll see it coming, and you'll get your ass ahnded to you. You've gotta by sly and crafty.
SA-LAP!!!!
The first shot is fired as Bolamba lands his entire palm across the face of Raynes, sending a message. As Raynes holds his face, and begins to turn back towards his assailant, eh can hear him running his mouth, and he fires back.
HJ: A -HUGE- lariat by Raynes, and he's got Timo down.
SA: He knocked him right off his feet, and now he's on top of him, throwing down elbows and fists.
HJ: Raynes obviously not happy about getting bitch slapped by Timo.
SA: Bolamba's in the ropes now, and Raynes gets off at the referee's four count.. Raynes backs up, and is almost challenging Timo to come at him.
Timo uses the ropes to get back to his feet, and looks weary as he steps back towards Raynes. Timo looks around the crowd, then holds his hand high in the air, his fingers outstretched, calling for the mighty test of strength.
SA: Timo's gone insane. Cyrus has at least half a foot of leverage on him.
HJ: That doesn't mean anything, Timo's got the guts to call out the challenge, let's see if Raynes is man enough to take it.
The fans are cheering Raynes as he laughs and looks around. He shrugs his shoulders, and locks up the first hand to a small pop from the crowd. Cyrus raises his other hand for Timo to lock up with, and suddenly, Timo's free hand drives two fingers into the face of Cyrus Raynes. Raynes doubles over, and Timo drops to a knee before driving his finger tips into the throat of Raynes. Raynes hits the mat, as he grabs his throat, gasping for air. Timo takes the opportunity to jump just barely and drive the point of his knee into the bridge of Rayne's nose.
SA: Some dastardly moves lead to an early cover by Timo.
1!
...
...
2!!
...
Kick out!!
HJ: Timo just had a flurry of ingenious offense, and has taken control of this match.
SA: It was cheating, and you know it.
HJ: Did we have a disqualification? No? Then it wasn't cheating, shut your yap, Amborse.
Timo gets behind Raynes, whom has sat up, and wraps his arm around his neck, locking in a rear headlock. Timo uses his free arm to reach across the face of Raynes, and claw at his eyes, employing the ever painful Eye Rake. Referee Willy Parr sees this, and starts a count to break the hold. Timo lets go at four, and stands up, getting into Parr's face.
SA: Timo obviously not agreeing with the referee's enforcement of the rules here.
HJ: As well he shouldn't, that was a completely legal headlock, and that biased referee made him break it up, because he knew Raynes was going to give soon.
SA: Or maybe it was the fact that Timo's fingernails were embedded into Raynes eyes?
While Timo is arguing with the referee, Raynes gets up, and charges forward, crashing both arms across his back with a double axe handle. Timo crashes forward, and drops Willy Parr with him. Cyrus calls to the crowd as he pulls Timo back to his feet, and tosses him into the ropes. Cyrus hits the opposite side, and charges forward, going for a huge spear, but Timo grabs the ropes and slides under the bottom rope, to a loud jeer from the crowd.
SA: This crowd wanted to see Bolamba get snapped in half.
HJ: They're monsters, all of 'em. Timo must agree with me, because he's leaving. He's walking away.
SA: I don't think Cyrus agrees with that, as he's running behind, giving chase.
Cyrus catches up, and grabs Timo by the arm, turning him around, and dragging him back towards the ring. Raynes starts to gain some speed as they get near the ring, and he whips Timo into the stairs. Timo's legs hit the stairs, and he flips over them. Raynes nods his head, as he walks around the displaced steps, looking for Bolamba. Cyrus reaches to pull Bolamba up, but is suddenly staggered, as something smacks against the side of Raynes head. Timo stands up, and rolls Raynes back into the ring, as he follows behind, holding a small wrench in his hand.
SA: What a dirty cheater... is that a wrench?
HJ: Ha! The ring crew must've left it from the set up. Timo taking advantage of the situation, and this has got to be over.
SA: Timo's making the cover, but the referee is still down. Now that's ironic.
HJ: Shut up, it's not ironic, it's a tragedy.
Timo gets up, and tries to bring Willy Parr back to the living world. When he finally gets him back up, he goes for another pin.
1!
...
...
...
2!!
...
...
...
Thr-KICK OUT!
HJ: What?! No! What a slow count!
SA: Hunter, the referee is barely awake.
HJ: No excuse, Timo was just robbed.
Timo pulls himself up, and drags Raynes to his feet. Raynes is staggering, and Bolamba takes a step back, then leaps forward, landing a hard heel kick to the chest of Raynes. Raynes drops, and instead of going for the cover, Bolamba starts punching Raynes in the face, completely going nuts.
SA: Timo hits the Cave-In, but opts out of the pin to pummel Raynes.
HJ: It's a turn-around from the beginning of the match, as Raynes has to run to the safety of the ropes.
Timo gives him no time to rest, as he pulls him back up, and whips him into the corner, and charges behind him. As Cyrus crashes into the turnbuckles, Timo follows right behind, and drives a hard shoulder to the ribs of Raynes. Timo grabs the doubled over Raynes, and whips him again, into the far corner.
-RAHH!!!-
Timo yells out as he sprints across the ring, and looks to take Raynes head off with a high Mafia Kick, but Raynes moves at the last second, leaving Bolamba with his leg crashing into the top rope.
SA: Great timing by Raynes as he avoids what looked to be one hell of a kick.
HJ: Raynes was just lucky, that's all.
Bolamba gets his leg off the ropes, and now leans in the corner, using the top ropes to help him stand. He turns and looks up, to find Raynes charging in, and crashing onto him with a huge clothesline. Before Timo can stumble out of the corner, Raynes steps onto the second ropes, and looks around to the crowd, getting a nice reaction,a s he begins to rain down alternating fists to the face of Bolamba.
SA: Rain Drops! Raynes is pounding down on the face of Timo.
HJ: Come on ref, those are closed fists... do your job.
After five with each hand, Raynes hops down, and Timo stumbles out of the corner. Raynes cracks a grin as he plants a boot to the gut of Timo, and sets him up for a power bomb. He lifts him up, and then lifts him by the tights, getting even more height, before sitting out, and dropping Bolamba
. SA: ...and the Down Pour! This has got to be over.
HJ: This is a travesty, Timo was robbed!
1!
...
...
2!!
...
...
3!!!
SKYE: The winner of this match, by pin fall... CYRUS.... RAYNESSS!!!!
SA: Cyrus comes back from getting hit with a wrench, to take home a win.
HJ: Timo was robbed by a slow count and you know it.
SA: After he cheated... but that doesn't matter, folks, we've still got our Main Event, the War In Washington Tower preview match, as all five men that have qualified for the tower go head-to-head-to-head-to-head-to-head.
[Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break]
Viciously text-messaging on a T-Mobile Sidekick with a 'F*CK YOU, PAY ME' faceplate snapped onto it, there's a little lady sitting backstage. She's making plans, taking names and trying to remain under the radar on the show. That is, until she sees a camera crew.
Aimz: Oh, hello there! Fancy meeting you here.
She slowly stands as if trying to make a public service announcement and begins walking down the hall, the cameraman backing away as she moves forward. Y'know, for effect.
Aimz: I bet you're wondering what I'm doing. But since I'm a terrible gambler, I'm guessing you probably don't care... so I'll just tell you - I'm helping to set up something to free all of you lovely people at home from another lame Affliction in-ring. This is bigger than you, and it's bigger than me, but I assure you that I haven't just become another asshole drone, I've...
???: ... Gone from being a coked-out whore to a supposedly 'clean', self-righteous coked-out whore?
The voice that interrupts her is far too familiar, and comes from a few feet away. Its owner isn't the most pleasant person to be walking towards, either.
Lane Stevens: Seriously, you and some fuckwads are going to form a rag tag group of self-proclaimed little heroes to take down the biiiiiiiiig, terrifying institution that threatens to completely OWN every one of you play-nice hacks? And who's it lead by, you? The number one role-model for children and good parents everywhere?
Stevens turns to speak straight into the camera.
Lane: Kids, when daddy's finished beating off tonight, I want every one of you to go to Google dot com, then type 'Amy Campbell nipple ring' and click the search button. Print out what you find, too - it's a hell of a lot cheaper than paying for that fake ID so you can buy Playboy.
Aimz: Go fuck yourself. Seriously.
Amy wanders closer to Lane and seems to be praying that looks can kill.
Aimz: You think you can parade all the shit I've done around, like I'm ashamed of it. I am ashamed of it - well, most of it... I mean, you can't blame me for my body art - but I'm not pretending to be anything I'm not. I'm not walking around talking about how nice I am, and I'm not gonna fake anyone out by acting like I haven't had my share of issues. Hell, I'm not even mincing words when it comes for my abnormal fetish toward violence, but I'm not Jenna fucking Jameson and you certainly aren't the chair of the PTA. I know that because I'd probably shoot myself if I knew there were smaller versions of you on the planet.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes.
Lane: Shit, I'd better go knock a broad up.
... Then pokes Amy's chest.
Lane: You know what, though? You're right. You're NOT Jenna Jameson. You give one of the worst blowjobs I've ever heard of, according to everyone who's ever logged onto the PTC website. Once the guys you're working with hear about that, I don't think your little stable is gonna go far.
Aimz: Make another dumb whore joke, go ahead. Just keep talking.
Lane: You'd like that, wouldn't you? I've seen your nipples more in the last minute and a half than Darcy probably has in a week. Now, if it's not too inconvenient, put a fucking bra on and walk away before you have to get a preview of the blood you, your husband AND whatever moron cult you just joined are gonna spill at the pay-pe------
Before he can finish, and well before he notices the satisfied smirk on Aimz' face, Lane hits the wall face-first. The feed goes to snow, then darkness as the cameraman and his lens are knocked to the floor, accidentally pounced by whoever just appeared from behind to attack Lane Stevens.
High heeled footsteps clicked thoughtfully through the corridors of the Dean Smith Center. Jet black they were and expensive without doubt, this woman knew how to dress. Then again in the modern age, to assume it was definitely a woman could have been a big mistake. As the camera pans upwards however, the assumption fortunately turns out to be right with the long Latino tanned legs giving the game away. Her dress was a tight red figure hugging number with her cleavage in clear view to anyone who fancied a quick ogle. Her dark brown curled hair hung loosely down past her neck and the war paint that she had applied to her face, certainly showed she meant business. The arms were folded defensively with a handbag draped on the right arm; she was slightly on edge even if she was on the attack.
She slowly came to a stop as the nameplate on the door to her right alerted her like a neon sign outside a brothel. Tapping her fingernails against the door, she whispered “Paul Cain” slowly under her breath. Checking to her left and right to ensure that no fast talking was needed; she pushed the door open with her foot and slipped inside. She smiled to herself, nothing had changed as Paul was still as untidy as ever. The sofa had a sports bag dumped on it and some of the contents had spilled out onto the furniture. Standing on the spot, she turned a slow circle as she took in the scene.
“Brings back memories” she mused to herself, before slipping the handbag off her arm and opening it up.
“But then, I’m not here for sentimental reasons.”
Her hand dipped into the bag before pulling out a bottle of her favourite perfume. With a sinister smile, she held the container up in the air and began to spray the scent around and around as she merrily skipped about. For a moment she was like a little girl dancing in a field of flowers with not a care in the world. It was somewhat disturbing that’s for certain, false innocence as she knew exactly what she was doing. As her light twirling came to an end, she took a deep breath and inhaled the over-exuberant scent marking that she had carried out.
“One more little touch I think.”
They had never been close to marriage or engagement but Paul had had a habit of spoiling Maria. He would pamper her with jewelry and the platinum ring that he had bought her just for the hell of it, had been the most expensive. It was beautiful and seemed to always be gleaming, although it was a symbol of a past life that Maria once knew. Her eyes became lost in reverie as she took the very same ring from her bag. She remembered the night he gave it to her and then the rough sex that followed. Then she recalled what it meant to her at other times too and she scowled at it with anger. In front of the sofa, was a glass table and she set the ring down in the middle of it with the jewel facing the door. She said a silent goodbye to this symbol of a previous life and turned her back on it as she walked towards where she crept in.
He would see it and he would know she had been there for her scent would be everywhere. It was just the head fuck she wanted.
Breezing out of the room, she quickly looked left and right again before striding away from the scene. Her mind was racing and she was exhilarated from the first move she had made. She knew now that the moment he returned would be the start of the madness. She was so proud of herself and this was only the beginning. There was more, so much more, that she would unleash and then, maybe, she would find some happiness. He would be broken, shattered and destroyed, just how she liked him. Her mind lost in thoughts, she almost didn’t see the next obvious opportunity. A door marked:
PRINCE PRIDE.
She stopped with a smile.
“Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Scene fades to black.
The scene cuts to the back where Mayson Colby is walking down the hall, wearing his black shirt with SECURITY written in big, bold, white letters. He grins as he peers into doorways, pausing when he finds what he's looking for. Sean Sterling. Sterling sits in his locker room, lacing his boots as Colby walks in. When he doesn't bother to look up Colby clears his throat loudly.
Sean Sterling: Evenin', officer. Now, if you would be so kind, piss off. I’m getting ready to win my match tonight.
Sterling chuckles underneath his breath as he stands up, stretching his arms out and flicking cigarette ashes in Colby’s general direction. He begins to walk out just as Colby whistles loudly as he leans against the doorframe, barring Sterling's way. Sterling's eyebrows raise as more black shirted security stream in to the hallway, just outside his room. A grin spread across Colby’s face, as the team of security guards stifle themselves from laughing.
Mayson Colby: Not so fast Sean. There's been a change in plans. After some careful deliberation with my colleagues here behind me, it’s been decided that we don’t think you deserve to have a spot in this main event match of yours, and you certainly don’t deserve to win it.
At first, Sterling has a look of some confusion on his face... before he breaks into laughter, rolling his eyes at the security team. He pats Colby's shoulder as if saying 'get out of the way' before he realizes that they're dead serious. His face contorts into a frown as he backs up, looking at these oh-so-upstanding security guards standing before him. His voice starts coming out with a slight hint of anger.
Sean Sterling: C'mon, guys. Cut the bullshit and get out of the way. Quit dicking around, Colby! I can’t help it that you haven’t won a match.
Mayson Colby: Shut your mouth, Sterling. You may think you're the superior, but tonight I have authority over you. Resist and we'll have a repeat of a few weeks ago, if you catch my drift, and this time it won‘t be just me putting your head through car windows. You don't want to spend another night in a jail cell, do you? I heard you moaning over your cell mate all night.
Colby laughs as the other men move forward, surrounding Sterling, much to The Second Coming’s dismay. Sterling sneers as the security guards surround him, his hands balling into fists as he raises his voice to a screaming yell, directed at Colby.
Sean Sterling: Listen, you little cocksucking pigfucker! You and your goddamn cronies get the fuck out of my locker room before I kick all your asses simply for being here! I know you and your boytoys love my rugged charm and near godlike good looks, but with all do respect, I'm not gay and I'm definitely not interested in an gangbang from you upstanding gentleman. So, what say we make this one easy, I give you chaps a couple dollars in cash, and you can go get your dicks wet with your favorite male prostitute? Sound good?
Mayson Colby: What sounds good, Sterling, is you doing what you're told. Get... your... ass... outside... NOW.
Colby stands in the doorway as the other men close the circle around Sterling. Sterling swings at one, catching him in the chin and grinning before the other men pin his arms to his side. Ranting and raving, Sterling is led out of his locker room, screaming at the top of his lungs with a mouth full of obscenities. With his eyes stuck on Colby, he yells aloud.
Sean Sterling: Hey, Colby! Get fucked, you dickfaced bastard! You're not going to get away with this, you hear me?! I’ll make sure you pay for this bullshit!
Mayson Colby: Toodles, Sean! Oh, don't worry about your match tonight. I'll let you know who wins.
Colby grins wide, crossing his arms and feeling absolutely full of himself as the security lead Sterling around the corner. The camera follows the team of security guards, with Sterling struggling against them, still screaming every ‘bad word’ in the book. As soon as they reach a door, they open it wide, and with a heave-ho, they throw Sterling out of the arena before slamming the door behind him, all laughing. Sterling stands up and wipes the dust off himself Colby grins wide, crossing his arms and feeling absolutely full of himself as the security lead Sterling around the corner. The camera follows the team of security guards, with Sterling struggling against them, still screaming every ‘bad word’ in the book. As soon as they reach a door, they open it wide, and with a heave-ho, they throw Sterling out of the arena before slamming the door behind him, all laughing. Sterling stands up and wipes the dust off himself as he walks up to the door, slamming his fist against it.
Sean Sterling: Hey! Open the door, you jackasses! This shit isn’t funny!
All we hear is the security team laughing on the other side of the door as Sterling sneers and moves away, crossing his arms and looking around, trying to figure out what to do next. The camera fades…Colby grins wide, crossing his arms and feeling absolutely full of himself as the security lead Sterling around the corner. The camera follows the team of security guards, with Sterling struggling against them, still screaming every ‘bad word’ in the book. As soon as they reach a door, they open it wide, and with a heave-ho, they throw Sterling out of the arena before slamming the door behind him, all laughing. Sterling stands up and wipes the dust off himself as he walks up to the door, slamming his fist against it.
Sean Sterling: Hey! Open the door, you jackasses! This shit isn’t funny!
All we hear is the security team laughing on the other side of the door as Sterling sneers and moves away, crossing his arms and looking around, trying to figure out what to do next. The camera fades… as he walks up to the door, slamming his fist against it.
Sean Sterling: Hey! Open the door, you jackasses! This shit isn’t funny!
All we hear is the security team laughing on the other side of the door as Sterling sneers and moves away, crossing his arms and looking around, trying to figure out what to do next. The camera fades…
The scene cuts backstage to the room that Jason Cruise was in earlier, with the eerie photos plastered over the walls and red 666 signs painted all over the room.
SA: I told you that El Diablo was insane.
HJ: It’s just mind games, all the great wrestlers in wrestling history have messed with people’s heads.
The red light bulb continues to flicker as Jason Cruise stands alone in the room, looking at his life in photos and is somewhat shocked at what he sees.
“Ah you came”
Turning around, Jason Cruise couldn’t believe what he saw standing in the doorway.
SA: Is that blood?
HJ: I guess it must be.
Standing in the doorway was El Diablo, with blood dripping down his chest and dropping onto the LiveWire Title around his waist. It was then, that Jason Cruise knew the red 666 symbols were painted in the blood of the devil, The Mexican Devil.
El Diablo: Do you like my artwork?
Jason Cruise: Not my color, but it suits you.
The Creator of Controversy inched closer into the room, with a smirk on his face.
El Diablo: Jason, I always have a plan and when I have a plan I do a lot of research. This is my research, and what a dull life you lead. No wonder you need to try elevate your career by taking on the LiveWire Champion.
HJ: You gotta give it to him, he’s like the Peyton Manning of wrestling.
SA: Are you serious?
HJ: Of course. This is El Diablo’s playbook.
Not wanting to stay in this insane room any longer than he should have to, Jason Cruise started to walk away, walking past the crazed Mexican Devil.
Jason Cruise: If I was looking to elevate my career I'd be going after your puppet master, El Diablo. You have something I want, something I deserve. That little title you parade around made you important, I'm here to take that away. I'm here to do what I've already done before, beat you.
Cruise was now standing in the doorway with El Diablo inside his macabre room.
Jason Cruise: But you had to make it personal. You had to scar me with your mark, the code of the devil. For that, beating you has lost it's luster. It's not enough. I'm going to put an end to you and your reign. You think bleeding sixes scares me? I'm going to make you bleed infinitely.
Smiling a sinister smile, El Diablo was waiting to tell Jason Cruise something very important. Important to him, at least.
El Diablo: That was a fluke, a one off, but I noticed that you saw the blood pouring out from my chest and that should be a warning to you. I do not fear pain and I will happily inflict it upon myself, especially if it has a purpose. But don’t flatter yourself Jason, in thinking you’re something special, because you are not, you got in The Affliction’s way and there are consequences, and as Clinton and Lane are busy dealing with people far more important than you, I have the privilege of ending your career and making you a sacrifice, so that everyone in FUSE knows not to get involved The Affliction’s business.
SA: The Affliction are into sacrifices?
HJ: He meant metaphorically.
SA: Are you sure about that?
HJ: Almost.
Wiping away the blood from his chest, The Mexican Devil waited and anticipated what Jason Cruise would say to that.
Jason Cruise: You want to sacrifice me? I welcome it. You want to bleed me dry? I accept. You think you are the only one that has the power to end another man's career? Heh, you ain't seen nothin' yet. What you've done is gotten in my head Diablo, I'll give you that. But when you open up my mind you open up another side of me that you don't want to see. I can play the games, I can dance the devil's dance.
El Diablo looks around his room with some sort of pride in his work.
El Diablo: Just count yourself luck Jason that we wrestle in the ring tonight and again in the Tower Match at the War In Washington. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here right now. The clock is ticking towards the end of your career, enjoy it while you can.
HJ: And that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.
SA: How cliché.
Instead of getting angry, Cruise smiles and steps back from the doorway into the corridor.
Jason Cruise: The clock may be ticking, but not for the end of my career. The clock is ticking on this.
Carefully pulling out an old fashioned gold pocket watch from his pocket, Jason is relishing getting one over The Mexican Devil.
Jason Cruise: I do my research too, Raul and I know this is very valuable to you. A family heirloom isn’t it? Passed down from immigrant to immigrant.
El Diablo’s demeanour quickly changes as he sees the watch. For the watch was inherited from his brother upon his passing.
Jason Cruise: The clock certainly is ticking.
In a quick motion, Cruise slams the door shut and blocks the door handle with a nearby broom.
SA: Looks like Cruise is getting inside El Diablo’s head.
HJ: You don’t know what you’re talking about.
As Jason Cruise walks away, loud banging is heard on the door as El Diablo attempts to get out and regain possession of his watch.
El Diablo: GET BACK HERE CRUISE! WE’RE NOT FINISHED!
SA: I bet he wishes he had his Affliction buddies there with him.
HJ: Shut up.
A vignette begins with a widescreen shot of the Hollywood sign as “Crashed” by Daughtry plays softly in the background. The frame flashes to a shot of the world famous Mann’s Chinese Theater and then to a shot of a street sign reading “Hollywood & Vine.” The camera slowly pans down and begins to zoom backwards as a man walks towards the camera. The clean cut figure with short, blonde hair is dressed in a pair of stylish denim blue jeans and a tight fitting graphic t-shirt. Behind him, you can see the sun beginning to set as the headlights of the passing cars blur into the background. Everything around him seems to be moving faster in time as the voice of Don LaFontaine, the move trailer voiceover specialist, begins to speak.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): Raised in the spotlight, and groomed in the shadow of some of the world’s most famous men, one man wants to know what it’s truly like to reach the limelight.
The camera zooms in on the man and eventually past him as the scene cuts to the next with a flash of light.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): He proved to the world that he was both fast...and furious.
A chase scene from Fast and the Furious of a souped up, green Honda Civic is shown. The point of view changes and shows a back seat shot of the action. The car crashes and begins to flip and roll violently. A clear shot of the drivers face is never shown; however, the degree of the wreck suggests his condition is severe. The shot fades into the next clip.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): He proved a viable nemesis and ally to the heroic Spiderman.
A clip from Spiderman 3 is shown, featuring the masked Goblin jumping off a building and swiftly flipping through the air. Although the use of computer graphics is evident, the character displays obvious risk and athleticism. As the action scene starring the Goblin escalates, the shot fades into the next.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): He was born with an identity, and an ultimatum to gain supremacy.
A clip from Bourne Ultimatum is shown, featuring Jason Bourne running on a rooftop. He runs past the camera and we see a rear view of him as he jumps across to another rooftop amidst gunfire. After Don LaFontaine finishes the voiceover for the clip, we cut back to the original man. The camera shows a frontal shot of the figure as he stands atop the edge of a tall building. His shirt has been removed, now showing off his slender, yet chiseled physique. The man looks to have no regard for the danger he has put himself in by standing on such a narrow ledge.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): Now, Hollywood’s most noted stunt double takes on a challenge of his own. Faced with an opportunity to prove to the world his worth as a leading man, he must overcome the toughest opposition in the world of professional wrestling today.
The camera spins around to his back and pans down. The man sticks his arms out at his sides and appears to dive off the building as if a pool awaits in the concrete below. The shot fades into a Hollywood Walk of Fame star spelling out the mans name.
Don LaFontaine (voiceover): “One Take” Carson Riley...coming to a FUSE Wrestling arena near you August 18th.
The 30-second trailer ends with the date “August 18th” flashing on the screen and fading into the next segment.
[Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break] - - - - - [Commercial Break]
SA: I’m being told that for our main event we’re being joined by Mayson Colby for “Event Security”, whatever the hell that means.
HJ: What? He just wants to make sure the main event kicks off smoothly!
The camera pans off to the side of the ring where Mayson Colby sits in a folding chair, wearing his black Security shirt. He nods nonchalantly towards the camera, then watches the FUSE-tron intently.
SA: Yeah, I’m sure that’s all.
HJ: Anyway, let’s get started!
The lights dim, and the ominous guitar work of Radiohead's "Karma Police begins to slowly build. The fans, having heard this tune before, immediantly get to their feet and begin to boo. There is a close-up shot of Lane's face on the FUSE-tron, and the expression morphs into a smirk.
#Karma police, arrest this man, he talks in maths He buzzes like a fridge, hes like a detuned radio#
SKYE: Now, making his way to the arena, Lane Steeeeeeeeeevens!
Lane steps out from behind the curtain, and immediantly throws his hands in the air. He is wearing a black silk robe. He slowly pivots to reveal "The River Rat" written in cursive on his back, in large red print. His manager, Saul, walks closely behind Lane. Saul's scarred face shows not even a hint of emotion, even his eyes are hidden by shades.
#This is what you get, this is what you get This is what you get, when you mess with us#
They make their way down to the ring slowly. Upon arriving, Saul opens up the ring ropes for Lane who steps through and gestures to the fans to get more into it, as if they were cheering him.
#Karma police, Ive given all I can, its not enough I've given all I can, but we're still on the payroll This is what you get, this is what you get This is what you get, when you mess with us#
SA: Something tells me the Affliction are going to run this match.
HJ: They run everything else around here, why not?
SA: Sigh.
The arena lights dim to darkness as 'Walk Away' by Epidemic plays throughout the arena as El Diablo, wearing his Livewire Championship around his waist, steps out from the back to a chorus of booing fans.
SKYE: The next opponent making his way to the ring, El Diabbbbbbbbbblo!
The lights rise as El Diablo walks down the aisle, ignoring the petulant fans who choose to boo him. The Mexican Devil reaches the ring steps and ascends them onto the ring apron, removing his Title Belt and holding it high above his head, before confidently stepping over the middle rope into the ring.
El Diablo places his Livewire Title down on the mat and then throws his arms into the air to chastise the fans loathing of him. Lane Stevens meets him in the middle of the ring and leans in, whispering something to the Mexican Devil.
SA: Wonder what that’s all about.
HJ: Strategy of course!
The rumbling bassline of Strata's 'Piece by Piece' starts, and the fans give a modest reaction, then settle down, waiting for the bass line to turn into an...
# AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! #
Explosion. The music kicks into a heavy riff and the singer screams loudly, and as the smoke fades Jonathan Rhine walks towards the ring, looking around at the arena with a large smile on his face, his arms raised to the side.
SKYE: Making his way to the ring, 'THE NEW LIFE' JONAAATHAAANNN RHIIIIIIIIIIINE!
# I found these plastic parts and wires # # Let's split me open at the seams # # And rip out everything inside # # Make room for all these new machines #
Rhine offers a knowing smile to the crowd as he walks down to the ring, shaking hands with the fans. Pointing at SKYE as if to thank her for the introduction, Rhine approaches ringside.
# Sew me up, pray that I survive # # A brand new me # # Piece by piece #
As the music slows down for a second, hitting chilling notes, Rhine leaps over the top rope and lands in the middle of the ring just in time for the hard-hitting chorus
# Stay here and watch me bleed # # Watch me bleed # # It's a brand new me, piece by piece # # Piece by...# # Piece #
Rhine throws out his hands, turning and soaking up the reaction as Stevens and El Diablo rush him from behind. El Diablo quickly delivers a dropkick to Rhine’s back and as he falls to the mat Stevens quickly follows with a series of kicks to the ribs. Russell Jamison shakes his head and signals for the bell. DING DING DING
SA: The match has already begun without all the contenders!
HJ: What’d you expect? Them to wait patiently in individual corners?
Stevens helps Rhine to his feet as El Diablo jumps to the top turnbuckle. He raises his arms to a chorus of boos then leaps off, wrapping his legs around Rhine’s neck and flipping him into a hurricanrana. As Diablo gets to his feet Stevens looks down at Rhine and laughs.
HJ: And we’re off to a good start.
The lights shut off, dead silence surrounds the arena until the FUSEWire explodes with flashing lights. The words "STERLING § SAVES" shines bright on the screen are accompanied by a chorus of boos and the sound of "Kiss Like Lizards" by The Icarus Line.
SKYE: Making his way to the ring, Sean Sterrrrrrrrrrrling!
Kissing on the face of girls that never trusted you. Confession from the kid who claimed he killed the queen. I want to feel sorry for you but both of us know these days pass so slow. So I’m burning everything I own as if I owe you anything. Ripping down all the flesh from bone until there ain’t anything left at all.
The entrance ramp remains empty and the crowd looks confused. Mayson Colby leans back in his chair and laughs hysterically, propping his feet up against the ring steps.
SA: Colby’s loving every minute of this.
HJ: What’re you talking about? Sterling pussed out!
SA: …yeah that’s what happened.
SKYE: Umm…now making his way to the ring, Jason Cruiiiiiiiiiiise!
“Snappin Necks” by Stuck Mojo strikes up and Jason Cruise runs out of the back, to a chorus of cheers from fans.
HJ: Good, everyone made it.
SA: Hunter!
HJ: What?!
Cruise slides under the bottom rope, quickly buckling the knee of Lane Stevens with a swift punch. After getting to his feet and spinning around, Cruise is met with a huge clothesline from El Diablo which sends him straight back to the mat. The fans cheer as Rhine is back on his feet. He walks behind El Diablo and taps him on the shoulder. When Diablo turns around, Rhine begins throwing left jabs. As Rhine spins around for an elbow, El Diablo ducks and Rhine spins straight in to Stevens, who wraps him up in to a belly to belly suplex.
HJ: Nice show of teamwork by Lane Stevens and El Diablo!
SA: This isn’t supposed to be a team match, Hunter.
HJ: Any match the Affliction is involved in is a team match.
SA: What’s Cruise up to?
Cruise bounces off the ropes, and grabs El Diablo by the back of the head with a flying bulldog. Cruise quickly gets to his feet and motions for Stevens. Stevens slowly backs away but runs straight in to the chest of Rhine who catches him with a reverse DDT. Rhine quickly rolls him over and after a quick elbow drop, locks in a figure four leg lock.
HJ: What’s he doing? He can’t win with a submission.
SA: Wait, what’s going on?
Suddenly there’s movement in the crowd. As fans boo, Sterling pushes his way past fans and makes a beeline straight for Colby, who remains fixated on the match.
SA: Looks like everyone made it after all.
Sterling flies through the air, leaping off the guardrail and clotheslines the back of Colby’s head, sending him face first in to the steps in front of him. Sterling looks down and laughs, picking up the chair and smashing it against Colby’s back for good measure.
HJ: Ha! Another beat down for Colby.
SA: Can we focus on the match?
Back in the ring, Stevens grasps the ropes as Rhine wrenches his leg lock. Meanwhile, Cruise tries to send El Diablo in to the turnbuckle, but he reverses and follows, leaping off the turnbuckle and hitting Cruise with a cross body block. Rhine releases his hold on Stevens and turns around, just as El Diablo is getting to his feet. Diablo goes for a spinning heel kick, but Rhine ducks out of the way and hits Diablo with a kick of his own.
SA: Rhine has taken control of this match.
Rhine raises his arms to the cheer of fans and flips over on to El Diablo with a moonsault, his knee catching Diablo’s throat.
SA: New life moonsault!
HJ: Who cares about that? Look, Sterling is on the turnbuckle.
As Rhine rolls to his feet, Sterling grins and leaps off the turnbuckle, spearing Rhine and sending both men down to the mat. Meanwhile Cruise and Stevens are exchanging punches in the middle of the ring. Stevens takes advantage by hitting a low blow, and bouncing off the ropes comes back with a knee lift. Stevens slowly climbs the turnbuckle.
SA: More movement in the crowd!
HJ: Say what?!
Aimz makes her way through the fans, and over the railing. As she steps over Colby’s fallen body, she looks down and pauses. Grinning, she grabs the chair and jumps to the ring apron, smashing it against Steven’s back as he gets ready to jump. As he falls, the turnbuckle catches him in the groin.
HJ: What the hell is she doing here?
SA: Oh, I don’t know, maybe a little revenge of her own?
Back in the center of the ring Rhine has taken advantage with a huge powerbomb on the smaller man, El Diablo. Rhine helps Diablo to his feet before sending him flying in to the corner. Diablo smashes in to Steven’s as he hits the corner, and Stevens falls backwards over the ropes and on to the cement below.
SA: Lane Stevens has been eliminated!
HJ: Elminated? That was just an accident!
SA: He went over the ropes, and he’s gone.
Aimz looks down and winks at Steven’s before heading backing to the fans.
HJ: That bitch just cost Stevens the match!
Back in the ring El Diablo stands on the turnbuckle, looking shocked and confused. Rhine quickly takes advantage, grabbing El Diablo and throwing him backwards with a German suplex. Meanwhile, Sterling has mounted Cruise’s chest and is delivering blow after blow, driving Cruise’s head straight in to the mat. Finally Sterling gets to his feet and, throwing a middle finger in the air, jumps off the ropes landing a moonsault on to Cruise. Diablo and Rhine make it to their feet, with Diablo catching Rhine with a kick to the stomach, which doubles him over and straight in to a spinning neckbreaker.
SA: Sterling’s trying to help Cruise to his feet.
Sterling lifts Cruise on to his shoulder and walks towards the ropes. Just as Sterling musters up the strength to toss Cruise over, Cruise comes to life with an elbow to the head, and slides out of Sterling’s grip, pushing him through the ropes. Sterling manages to hook his arm around the bottom rope, and pull himself up on to the apron before his feet touch the ground.
SA: And a near elimination for Sterling!
Cruise shakes his head and comes at Sterling, but is met with a number of big punches. Finally, Sterling wraps up Cruise and tries to lift him, but Cruise struggles. Sterling knees Cruise through the ropes, and finally is able to lift him up in the air, and drop him on to the cement below.
HJ: Ha! Cruise just got owned!
SA: Sterling has somehow managed to eliminate Cruise and managed to remain on the ring apron.
Sterling turns around to see Mayson Colby getting to his feet outside the ring. Sterling leans over and points a finger at Colby, and the two men begin yelling obscenities. Back in the ring, El Diablo is back on his feet. He bounces off the ropes, and heads for Sterling. Just as Diablo reaches Sterling, Colby reaches up and pulls down the top rope, sending El Diablo flipping over it and to the floor below. At the same time, Colby pushes Sterling back in to the ring where Rhine is waiting.
SA: Wow! Now Colby cost El Diablo the match!
HJ: You can bet the Affliction isn’t going to be happy about tonight.
Rhine catches Sterling with a spinning wheel kick, quickly following with an elbow drop. As the two men get to their feet, Rhine grabs Sterling in a headlock, then runs him in to a flying bulldog. Raising his arms to the cheers of fans, Rhine grabs Sterling and sends him flying in to the ropes, following closely behind. As Sterling bounces off the ropes Rhine dives towards him with a clothesline, sending both men flying over the ropes. Rhine grabs on to the topes at the last second, and rolls back in to the ring as Sterling hits the ground below.
DING DING DING
SKYE: And your winner, Jonathan Rhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!
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