EXPRO On FX #7

We come back from commercial, and already in the ring is a big table with a gigantic cake on it a few balloons and streamers around the ring as Slash’s cover of the Godfather Theme starts to play, bringing the cheers of the crowd.

Dick Morosi: Looks like the good guys in black are joining us!

Dick is right as out from the back come Jonathan Collins, Andreas Lasiewicz, and Gabriel Gambino: The Godfathers of Wrestling! The crowd goes nuts as at least Gabe and Jon stop to shake a few hands, Andreas doing some acknowledging of the crowd. With the finely dressed trio finally stepping into the ring, Jon surveys the audience while giving them another nod before asking for a microphone once they step into the ring.

Jonathan Collins: I’m going to make this short and sweet, because there’s really no reason to extend this. We have a great show for you tonight, and more importantly, a match going on momentarily. A few nights ago, I asked all of you to show your appreciation for this man coming out, and I hope you’ll do the same for me now. He is a former World Champion, he is a good friend, and more importantly...he’s the final member of the family to arrive. With this…

Jonathan goes to the table and reaches for a clipboard that had been resting on it.

Jonathan Collins: With this contract, Chandler Scott becomes the newest member of the EXODUS Pro roster, and I can assure you all great things will happen. If you don’t believe me, ask my colleagues.

Jonathan Collins then hands the microphone over to The Polish Spirit.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Out of everyone I have seen in this industry, this man, more than anyone… Signifies the next generation of this sport. He is a man who has already has a number of accomplishments under his belt, more than some ever get in their entire careers. It is shocking to think that his previous company would allow his contract to run out… You’d think their General Manager would have done something to make him stay.

Andreas chuckles to himself, as a knowing smile spreads on Gambino’s face.

Andreas Lasiewicz: EXODUS Pro is the company that this man will thrive in. He is the next level for this sport, just as this company is the next level for this sport. And with all four of the Godfathers here… Expect great things...

Lasiewicz then hands the microphone over to Gabe.

Gabriel Gambino: Any of you who read my blog over the weekend know what I’m about to say. Lasie, JC, and I chose Chandler Scott because we see the future of professional wrestling when we look at him. Lasie, JC, and I chose Chandler Scott to join the Godfathers of Wrestling because he is the man we see leading the future of this business long after the three of us have hung up the boots. To say, though, that he is only the future would be a severe injustice on what Chandler has already accomplished in his young career. The man is already a decorated competitor, and under the tutelage of the three of us there is no limit to the amount of success he can achieve. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you the newest member of the EXODUS roster, the fourth member of the Godfathers of Wrestling… Chandler Scott!

The classic beginning notes of "Ride of the Valkyries" plays over the PA as the fans in attendance know who is about to grace them with their presence. Out through the curtain steps Chandler Scott, wearing his Harvard letterman jacket. Walking down the ring with him is Madison Scott, who walks arm and arm with him. The two lovebirds ignore the boos, jeers and catcalls of the crowd, shooing them away like the trash that they are. After Chandler hops onto the apron, he helps Madison up onto the apron. Chandler then sits down on the bottom rope while holding the top rope up for Madison. After Madison makes her way into the ring, Chandler steps into the ring. He slowly turns around in a circular motion with his arms outstretched, basking in his glory. Andreas then hands a microphone over to Chandler.

Chandler Scott: Andreas, Gabriel… thank you for the kind words. You have no idea how much this means to me. The big celebration, the cake… rolling out the red carpet for me. You really do know how to make a guy feel welcome. I couldn’t ask for a better group of men to be surrounded by. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m a part of a family.

Jon and Gabe clap while Las gives Chandler a pat on the back

Chandler Scott: You know, this has been a long time coming. And if I had my way, I would have been here several weeks if not months ago. But you know, me being the star that I am, I had prior commitments that I just couldn’t brush off. But now that all those loose ends have been tied up, I have finally arrived here in lovely San Diego.

The crowd cheers at Chandler’s pandering.

Chandler Scott: And what a sight it is. Lovely weather. Lovely people. And hands down one of the best companies going today. It is an honor and a privilege to be here in Exodus.

All four Godfathers give a round of applause for the promotion.

Chandler Scott: And just like it’s an honor for me to be here in Exodus with my fellow Godfathers, it’s an honor for all of you to see me wrestle.

And here come the boos trickling in.

Chandler Scott: Now, you finally get to see what a real athlete looks like. Not like all of these other pretenders masquerading as a real athlete. You people will finally get to see what greatness looks like in the flesh.

It was a goal of mine to see all of the Godfathers in the semis of the Honor Cup. But unfortunately, myself, Andreas and Gabriel are all in the same block. And while there will only be one Godfather advancing, just know that that Godfather will be the odds on favorite to win this entire thing. And since I’ll be the Godfather that makes it out of Block D, I just know that my fellow Godfathers will be cheering me on, chanting “Go Chandler, Go! Go Chandler, Go! Go Chandler, Go!”

Chandler looks off into the distance. He smiles from ear to ear, nodding in approval as he gets lost in the thoughts of these “Go, Chandler” chants. But in reality, the crowd has begun to boo him more heavily than they were just moments ago. Andreas leans over and whispers something into Chandler’s ear. Scott nods, a grin upon his face. He hands the microphone back to Andreas.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Ladies and Gentlemen, after tonight you can expect to see not one… not two… but THREE of the GoW in the Honor Cup… It is an offer EXODUS simply can not refuse…

Jonathan Collins: We are the Fist...

Gabriel Gambino:... and the Fist…

Chandler Scott:... is change!

The microphone is dropped as the rest of the Godfathers begin to leave the ring. The arena goes dark for a second, as the video starts up we hear Devour the Day’s “Good Man” crank up.

I want to be a good man, I want to see God

I want to be faithful but I know that I’m not

I want to be a good man, I want to do right

I don’t wanna be a criminal for the rest of my life

Jaime Alejandro comes out of the back and we see him looking towards the ring. The crowd looks at him, wondering what he’s going to do next. He gets down on his knees and says a prayer to himself.

Everything that I've done before

Has brought me back down to my knees

I’m crying out to you, Lord

It’s getting harder and harder to see

If there’s good left in me?

Is there any good left in..ME!!!


He pulls off the Hail Mary gesture and springs up. He punches towards the air as the crowd holds the hands out, trying to touch him. He holds his hands out, going slowly towards the ring. As he does, we see him jump up onto the apron. He then vaults himself in, waiting for the match to begin.



HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
CHANDLER SCOTT vs. JAMIE ALEJANDRO

The referee looked over at both men before he told the timekeeper to ring the bell and with that, the crowd began to buzz in proper fashion as Chandler Scott and Jaime Alejandro began circling around the ring for a few, brief moments before they find themselves in the traditional collar-to-elbow tie-up where Alejandro is very quick to take advantage of and place Scott in a headlock. Alejandro lets go and twists around, quickly attempting to grab a hold of Scott’s left arm but Chandler retorts with a quick right elbow to stop him before placing Alejandro on a headlock of his own. His grip isn’t too strong, which gives Jaime Alejandro enough room to place his arms around Chandler’s hips before he attempts to go for a backdrop, but Scott manages to break off the grip and land on his feet behind Alejandro. As he does, Chandler gets his arms around Alejandro’s hips and attempts to suplex him off his feet, but Alejandro refuses to go up for the ride, locking his right leg around Chandler’s own before fighting off the grip with a prompt stomp to Scott’s right foot before turning around, wrenching on the left arm of one of the Godfathers of Wrestling. Realizing the target in question, Scott immediately swings his right hand against Alejandro’s right wrist, forcing him to break the possible hammerlock and getting the old man away from his arm. As both take a step back, they look around at the RIMAC Arena and take a moment to just listen to the roar of the crowd.

Dick Morosi: Interesting bit of action to open us up here in this Honor Cup qualifier.

Seth Ericson: Bah, they’re easily influenced. I want some calamity here, not mutual respect, hanky-panky bullshit.

After glancing at the crowd, the two competitors are right back to talking with one another, their exact bit of talking not exactly caught on by the cameras. But the stare down combined with whatever’s going on clearly reaches a breaking point once Scott smirks at a certain comment from Alejandro, reaches out with his right hand, and slaps the taste right out of Jaime Alejandro’s mouth!

Seth Ericson: NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!

Jaime, however, does not take too kindly to Chandler’s antics (not to mention the shit-eating grin) as he then advances on Scott, laying onto him with a body hook that doubles the Harvard graduate before Jamie begins to follow with it up with a combination of right and left shots to the body before catching Chandler across with a left uppercut and right hook that sends him sprawling to the mat. Jaime, on the other hand, has no intentions of stopping the attack as he nails Chandler with more right hands before the referee is forced to step in and count him to a near four count before Jaime finally comes to a stop. He pulls Chandler back to his feet and pushes him against the nearest turnbuckle, keeping Scott from going anywhere with a pair of knife-edged chops before irish whipping him over to the opposite turnbuckle. Alejandro comes charging in like a bulldozer, but Chandler gets out of the way just in time as Jaime crashes chest-first against the turnbuckle.

Dick Morosi: Jaime looked to be dominant here but Chandler, even without all that much experience, avoiding that one like an expert.

Seth Ericson: Not exactly difficult to avoid a flying man from destroying your everything.

As Alejandro stumbles out of the corner, Chandler follows suit by grabbing on to him and immediately applying an abdominal stretch, finding himself a specific target to cover. He applies the pressure accordingly for a few moments, as Alejandro’s free hand waves around and he tries to move his feet to get closer to the ropes. But after realizing this won’t quite do the trick yet, Chandler follows suit from the position and gradually picks up the larger Alejandro in a rather nifty display of strength and nails him with a pumphandle drop. Not looking to let an opportunity slip by, Scott follows suit with a jumping knee drop to Jaime’s head before covering Jaime, placing his right forearm across the man’s head:

ONE!!!!!



TWO!!!!!!



TH- Jaime kicks out.

Seth Ericson: A very close one, but Chandler’s now got the upperhand.

Chandler’s dishing out a few closed fist punches of his own, as he nods, talking trash to the entirety of the RIMAC and the RIMAC, in the return, begins booing him accordingly. Scott laughs, seemingly embracing the process before he goes back and grabs on to Jaime, dragging him towards the corner and nailing him with some boots to the sternum before placing Alejandro’s arm around his neck and then lifting him up in the air, keeping Jaime held up in the air for...quite some time.

No, really, he stays up there for a good fifteen seconds before he drops down, nailing him with a stalling vertical suplex before covering Alejandro once again.

ONE!!!!!



TWO!!!!!!



THR- but Jaime gets the shoulder up yet again!

Dick Morosi: Jaime Alejandro showing some fight here!

Chandler smacks the mat, talking to the referee about a slow count but the referee holds two fingers up, standing his ground. Scott’s attentions eventually return over to Jaime Alejandro as he goes to pick him up...but JAIME GRABS ON TO HIM AND ROLLS HIM OVER INTO A SMALL PACKAGE!

ONE!!!!!!!!!!



TWOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!



THRE- CHANDLER KICKS OUT AT THE NICK OF TIME!

Seth Ericson: WHOA!

Dick Morosi: Surprise roll-up by Jaime Alejandro and he almost caught him.

Chandler’s the first one on his feet but as he goes for Jaime, well, Alejandro gets his feet around Chandler’s left ankle and brings him down with a drop toe hold. Jaime is right back on the attack with a few stomps of his own before bringing Chandler back to his feet, irish whipping him across the ropes and then running to meet Chandler as he bounces back with a knee, giving the Godfather the practical kitchen sink. It doesn’t take enough time for Jaime to lay a few kicks to the side of Chandler’s face before pulling Scott back to his feet, nailing Scott with an extra open handed chop to the chest. Chandler attempts to fight back with a wild punch, but Alejandro ducks under it, slipping behind the Harvard graduate and then connecting with a Russian Leg Sweep. He immediately follows suit by pinning Chandler Scott.

ONE!!!!!



TWO!!!!!!



THR- Now it’s Chandler’s turn to kick out.

Jaime shakes his head for a moment, but instead of arguing, he’s right back to work as he once again brings Chandler to his feet and then irish whips him to the turnbuckle fiercely, as Chandler crashes against it strongly enough to end up in a sitting position. Alejandro grins from ear-to-ear as he runs the ropes and then right towards the turnbuckle, nailing Chandler Scott solidly with a diving clothesline.

Dick Morosi: And now Alejandro’s on the offensive and that Air Assault may spell the beginning of the end.

Seth Ericson: He could very well pull the upset against one of the Godfathers here!

Alejandro returns to his feet, nodding in approval as he stalks Chandler Scott and then picks up from behind, attempting to go for his patented “Straight to Hades,” but just as Chandler reaches up the apex of flight, he manages to break away from the grasp and to land right behind Alejandro. Immediately out of desperation, Chandler grabs on to Jaime’s waist and then runs him up against the turnbuckle face-first. He keeps a hold of Alejandro and as the referee gets closer to break things up, Scott takes advantage of the blind spot briefly given to him, reaching out and poking Jaime right in the eye with his right thumb. The crowd, however, isn’t fooled one damn bit, as they boo intensely.

Dick Morosi: Oh come on!

Seth Ericson: A shameless counter by one of the Godfathers...and I kinda like it.

Chandler gradually lets go and he watches as Alejandro stumbles back, holding his right hand to his eye that just got poked and with this, Chandler sees his opportunity as he spins around and connects with a MASSIVE Harvard Hammer that knocks Jaime right down to the mat with its sheer impact. Grinning wickedly, Scott drops down quickly and then covers him:

ONEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!



TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bell rings again, as the crowd boos accordingly as “Ride of the Valkyries” by Richard Wagner plays over the PA system while Chandler Scott stands back to his feet confidently, letting the referee raise his hand slowly.

David Zinkus: Here’s your winner and advancing to the Honor Cup...CHANDLEEEEER...SCOOOOOTT!!!!

Dick Morosi: A very hard-fought match-up and Jaime Alejandro has nothing to be ashamed of here. He was one move away from earning his spot in the Honor Cup.

Seth Ericson: But y’know what, he lost? Why? Because Chandler Scott is a clever bastard!

WINNER: CHANDLER SCOTT

Alejandro stares a hole through Scott with his one good eye as Scott slides out of the ring, still keeping the large grin on his face as the cameras roll elsewhere. The camera cuts to the backstage area where Tom Matheny stands next to “The Golden Boy” Dan Stein and Molly, his assistant. Tom is looking at the camera with a microphone as Dan and Molly both look at the television set, obviously disappointed in the outcome of the Chandler Scott/Jaime Alejandro match. Tom turns to Dan before asking his question.

Tom Matheny: Dan, you obviously look upset after that loss by your fellow SHOOT Project competitor, a man that you PERSONALLY asked to join you in the Honor Cup. What’s going through your mind right now?

Dan, wearing his ring gear, turns to Tom, putting his hands on his hips. Molly turns with Stein.

Dan Stein: Listen to those fans, man. They know how good that match was, how close that match was. A lot of the fans knew about Chandler Scott coming into the match, but Jaime Alejandro is brand spanking new to these people… and listen to them. Listen to how they’re cheering that guy’s effort.

Stein stops speaking for a moment, raising his eyes to let the cheering of the fans echo through the TV set. Stein lowers his head, looking back at Tom for a moment, then to the camera, smiling.

Dan Stein: That’s why I’m here. That’s why Dan Stein is back in EXODUS Pro for the Honor Cup. These fans are second to none, and they deserve a heavily contested Honor Cup. Jaime Alejandro might’ve lost, but you can guarantee he won’t be hanging his head going forward because he put on one hell of a show.

Stein claps his hands for Jaime, proudly.

Tom Matheny: Dan, in your promotional video you made a point to talk about Jerry Matthews and your involvement in his match at Autumn Effect. The fans in the arena know you from your last stint in EXODUS where you and Jerry got off on the wrong foot—

Dan Stein: Whoa, whoa. Let me stop you right there. Jerry Matthews is one hell of a wrestler – a total douchebag, but a hell of a wrestler, I’ll give him that. Tonight, my focus isn’t on Jerry Matthews, tonight, my focus is on Jack Napier and advancing in the Honor Cup.

Stein turns his body toward the camera.

Dan Stein: There’s a lot of things for Dan Stein to be thankful for this Holiday season, but to be able to go out there and call myself an Honor Cup Champion, the FIRST in EXODUS Pro history? That’s something that I absolutely cannot pass up. So Jerry Matthews or Deacon Jeremiah or anyone else that wants to make a statement through the new guy, those guys aren’t even the slightest bit on my mind right now.

Dan gives Tom a trademark smirk. Pulling the microphone back, Tom asks him another question.

Tom Matheny: In your promotional video, you alluded to a hamstring injury that you appeared to have suffered at Revolution 119 – how serious is that right now?

Stein smirks again, slapping his injured hamstring.

Dan Stein: This guy? I wouldn’t worry about this guy. I might not be entirely 100 percent, but don’t for a second think that’s going to be a factor in this match. I defended my Sin City Championship belt over in SHOOT Project with it, if I lose, it won’t be because I’m injured. It’s because Jack Napier was the better man.

Tom Matheny: Thanks, Dan. Good luck tonight.

Dan Stein: Thanks, Tom.

Dan and Molly quickly make their way from the television set, leaving Tom Matheny to look at the camera.

Tom Matheny: One Honor Cup Qualifier in the books, one SHOOT Project soldier down – can Dan Stein win his match and move on? Stay tuned to EXPRO on FX to find out!

Tom nods as we go to commercial!

We come back from commercial just as the opening guitar riff to "I'm Your Favorite Drug" by Porcelain and the Tramps begins to play, the lights fade and take on a brilliant pink hue.




The chorus kicks in as Savannah steps out from the back, her hands placed on her slender hips as she looks out over the crowd, most of whom are caught between jeering the blonde and showing their appreciation. She simply rolls her eyes as she causally walks down the aisle.




Once at the end of the ramp, she hops up onto the apron and spins around so her back is resting on the ropes. Placing her hands on the top rope, Savannah places one foot on the middle rope and effortlessly swings herself backward into the ring. Once inside, she flicks her hair behind her as she walks over to the corner, resting her back against the turnbuckle as the lights return to normal.

Dick Morosi: We learned more about Savannah Taylor at The Autumn Effect...more than I think a few of us wanted to know.

Seth Ericson: She's involved herself with Kylar Stark, and if the two of them end up going after the World Tag Team Titles, we could be in for a treat!

"DUN, DUN, DAH!"

The lights unexpectedly went dim in the arena as the opening beats of "Looks Are Everything" by Twirl began to blast throughout. After moments of darkness, the lights fully return to display the emergence of Aria Dior from the curtain. The tall blonde stands at the top of the stage, hands on her hips and smirk on her face, briefly scanning the arena before turning the entrance ramp into her personal runway and strutting towards the ring. Cat calls from all directions are thrown her way when she climbs up from the apron to the top rope, perching herself upright and extending her legs outward, a smile spread across her face. In a swift motion, Aria kicks her legs up one after the other, swinging herself into the ring. As her music dies down, Aria takes one final pose inside the ring before stretching herself out in preparation for the contest ahead.

Seth Ericson: I like the look of this Aria Dior -

Dick Morosi: A former THW competitor!

Seth Ericson: -but I'm not sure what she can do against Savannah Taylor.

HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
SAVANNAH TAYLOR vs. ARIA DIOR

The bell rings, and the two women begin sizing each other up. They lock up, and Aria locks in a wristlock. Savannah looks mildly annoyed, then rolls through, reversing it into a wristlock of her own! Aria tries to roll back through, but Taylor just rolls with her, keeping the wristlock locked in! At that point, Dior walks over to the ropes and grabs ahold, causing a break. Savannah proceeds to get right in Aria Dior's face, egging her on until Aria slaps her clear across the face! Savannah backs away, smiling.

Seth Ericson: You know, Taylor showed that she's really into getting hit...maybe this is her way of getting fired up!

Dick Morosi: She's an odd one, but a dangerous wrestler all the same, Seth.

The two approach each other to lock up again, but Savannah kicks Aria in the stomach, doubling her over. Grabbing her by the hair, Savannah hits a bulldog, bringing Aria Dior down to the mat! Taylor doesn't let up, dropping a couple of knees into the shoulder of her opponent before standing and moving behind her. Reaching down and grabbing each of Aria's wrists, Taylor pulls up, placing her foot on the back of her foe before letting go and shoving Aria Dior's face down into the mat with a curbstomp!

Dick Morosi: Brutal! Aria's face went right into the mat on that one!

Seth Ericson: This is getting good!

Savannah plays to the crowd, mocking a couple of front-row fans as Aria pulls herself to her feet. The “Las Vegas Siren” then charges at Dior, jumping up and nailing a running hip strike to knock her opponent back down! Pausing for a moment to admire her handiwork, Savannah then casually heads out to the apron, climbing up to the top rope and waiting for Aria Dior to stand up.

Dick Morosi: Savannah Taylor going high-risk here, will it pay off?

As soon as Dior is on her feet, Savannah flips off, landing on Dior's shoulders and rolling back with Welcome to Sin City, her dragonrana!

ONE...

TWO...

TH-Kickout!

Savannah looks a little surprised, then gets a devious look on her face as she stands, turning to face a stunned, but still moving, Aria. Taylor quickly locks up her arm before driving Dior's head down into the mat with the Siren's Song! Taylor rolls her opponent over and covers...

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

Dick Morosi: And it's Savannah Taylor headed to the Honor Cup in Block C! Lots of top tier talent in that block, Dick, and Savannah can definitely make a name for herself!

Seth Ericson: If tonight's any indication, Dick, she's gonna be a hard win for anyone!

Savannah rolls off of her opponent, walking over to the ropes and climbing up on them so she can lean over and blow a kiss at the camera...perhaps aimed at her other half! She then tilts herself over the top rope, going down to the floor, as we fade to commercial.

WINNER: SAVANNAH TAYLOR

After the commercial break, we see Brett Sands again, dressed in his ring gear this time. He seems to be talking to one of the female backstage workers, a rather good looking woman with long red hair. Scratch that, he seems to be hitting on her.

Brett Sands: So, yeah. You know, if you ever want to-

Blake Jones: I got you now!

All of a sudden, Blake comes charging in, diving at Brett and sending both of them over the nearby table with equipment. Most of the equipment stays on the table and the table does not tip over as Blake immediately jumps on top of Brett and begins drilling him with lefts and rights. Brett just stays on the ground, trying to cover up. Security immediately is on the scene, pulling Blake off of Brett long enough for Brett to get up and drill Blake right in the gut before throwing him up against the nearby wall. Security begins to pull him away as he raises his hands up in the air, trying to get them to believe he won't do anything.

Brett Sands: Better think about attacking me again, bitch.

Brett finally makes his way out of the shot as Blake gets to both feet, refusing any help. He lets out a yell before flipping over the nearby table with the equipment.

Blake Jones: I'm gonna get you, Brett! Even if it is the last thing I do!

The scene fades out as the remainder of security tries to get Blake to calm down, and we're back to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: Blake Jones looks enraged! He feels like he owes a receipt to Brett Sands after putting one of his best friends on the shelf.

Seth Ericson: How dare he interrupt Brett spitting game? That's just rude!

Dick Morosi: Is that what you got out of it?

Seth Ericson: Is there anything else?

Dick Morosi: There's a lot more from that, and there's a lot more coming up in this next match! Jimmy Riley attempts to get back on track as he attempts to qualify for the Honor Cup, going one on one with Braxton Bennett...next!

"Evil Ways" by Blues Saraceno begins to play, as the crowd stands to their feet, awaiting the arrival of Braxton Bennett. Bennett makes his way from behind the curtain, rubbing his hands together, and securing the tape on his fists. He slowly walks down the ramp, ignoring the hands of the fans as he passes. Climbing into the ring, Braxton walks over to the far right turnbuckle, and acts as if he's going to climb it. However, he stops himself, giving a smug look to the crowd, as he turns to speak with the referee, and his music fades out.

Dick Morosi: Another Honor Cup qualifying match now; this one from Block B! It's that man, Braxton Bennett, taking on the former EXODUS Pro International Champion, Jimmy Riley!

Seth Ericson: And if I'm Braxton Bennett, I'm asking myself why I showed up! Jimmy Riley's fresh off losing that title, and now he's got a shot to get into the Honor Cup? I'm calling mom, telling her I love her before I get in the ring with that guy!

Dick Morosi: It's the same opportunity for Bennett, Seth. One win here puts him in a block with a shot at the San Diego Bay Champion, nevermind the end goal – a shot at the EXODUS World Title!

The horns break into the static noise of the crowd, and more than a fair share of the audience rises to their feet, boos beginning to sprinkle down in the arena. The lights have dimmed, but haven't gone completely out, as a single spotlight rests on the curtain. After mere seconds, Jay-Z's voice can be heard, heralding the Death of Auto-Tune;



Jimmy Riley bursts through the curtain, his steps driven, his hoodie half-zipped, and his face almost stoic. His arms shoot out to the sides as he soaks in the reaction for a moment on the stage before beginning a somewhat slow walk down the aisle.



Reaching ringside, Jimmy walks around to the far side of the ring, hoisting himself up to the apron. After looking out at the crowd, Riley nods at David Zinkus, then climbs up to the second rope, still on the outside of the ring.

David Zinkus: Now entering the ring, from Cleveland, Ohio...now residing in San Diego, California! Weighing in at two-hundred fourty-five pounds! This is “THE RISING STAR”...JIMMY...RILEY!



Jimmy hops down into the ring, walking to each side while his mouth moves almost non-stop. As he reaches the final side of the ring, he removes his hoodie, tossing it to the floor and leaning into his corner.

Dick Morosi: That brash attitude of Riley hasn't endeared him to the fans here in San Diego, but it's definitely turned his in-ring fortunes around.

Seth Ericson: He'll need an edge up against some of the guys in his block!

HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
BRAXTON BENNETT vs. JIMMY RILEY

The bell rings, and as Braxton Bennett saunters across the ring towards Riley, Jimmy merely leans back in the corner. The look on his face is one of pure contempt, and one can see why; as soon as Bennett gets close, Jimmy snaps a foot up into his midsection! Instantly Riley is unloading with right hands before whipping Bennett back into the corner he was just in. Pausing only for a second, Jimmy Riley follows in with a running dropkick that crushes Bennett right in the face!

Seth Ericson: Someone call a dentist! Bennett's gonna need bridge work after that one!

Dick Morosi: No nonsense tonight from Jimmy Riley, he's on a mission; qualify for the Honor Cup!

Jimmy Riley is first to his feet, pulling Braxton up with him. Bennett throws a couple of shots to Riley's stomach, stunning “The Risen Star” for a second, before the “Unholy Disciple” attempts to whip Jimmy into the ropes. But that advantage only lasts for a moment, as Jimmy reverses the irish whip, holds on to Bennett's arm, then pulls him right back into a Supernova Lariat! Riley falls on top for a cover...

ONE...

TWO...

TH-Kickout!

Dick Morosi: Biiiig Supernova Lariat by Jimmy Riley, but not enough to put Braxton Bennett away just yet!

Seth Ericson: It was close, though!

Jimmy rises to his knees, a look of mild frustration on his face as he gets to his feet. He takes a few steps back, and when Bennett is up on one knee, Jimmy runs right in and steps onto that bended knee before shoving his foot right into Bennett's face! Landing on his feet, Jimmy looks out at the crowd, cocky grin on his face as he pulls his arms in before throwing them out, signaling the forthcoming end of the match!

Dick Morosi: Riley's calling for the end of this match! What will he go for; the Light 'Em Up elbow, the God's Strike knee?

Seth Ericson: Whatever it is, we'll likely have to break out the smelling salts for Braxton Bennett!

Bennett stands, and even takes a swing at Jimmy, who ducks! Riley turns that duck into a counter-clockwise spin, catching Braxton Bennett with a spinning back elbow! With lightning quick speed, Jimmy spins back clockwise, bring the same elbow in to the opposite side of Bennett's face! The force from the second elbow sends the “Unholy Disciple” spinning away from Jimmy, who quickly locks in a full nelson before launching Bennett over his head in a dragon suplex! He bridges for the pin...

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

Dick Morosi: A Change is Gonna Come, and that change is Jimmy Riley has qualified for the Honor Cup!

Seth Ericson: Beautiful win! Tons of momentum for Jimmy Riley! Everyone else in his block better look out!

WINNER: JIMMY RILEY

Riley rolls out of the ring, one arm in the air as he quickly heads to the back, and we head backstage. As the scene shifts from the aftermath of the match, we find Tom Matheny walking backstage, microphone in hand and an eye out for a scoop. Glancing down the hallway, he spots a winner from earlier, the lovely Savannah Taylor. She is still dressed in her wrestling attire and has a smile on her face as she almost walks right past Tom.

Tom Matheny: Savannah, over here.

She looks over at Tom and stops, allowing the man to catch up to her.

Savannah Taylor: What?

Tom Matheny: Well, I was wondering if I could get a few words with you regarding tonight’s match.

The Las Vegas native places her hands on her hips as she nods her head a bit.

Savannah Taylor: What do you want to know?

Tom Matheny: First off, congratulations on making it in to the Honor Cup. It was a great win for you tonight.

Savannah Taylor: You sound surprised. Does it shock you that I won?

Tom Matheny: Well, no…..

Savannah Taylor: That wasn't what I gathered from your tone of voice. You look at my victory over Aria as some shocking thing. Guess what? I knew I was going to win and I did. I can already tell that you think I stand no chance against the rest of the people in my block. Know what I have to say about that?

Tom Matheny: What’s that?

Savannah Taylor: Expect the unexpected. I told people that I was going to make a name for myself here in EXODUS come hell or high water. I couldn’t think of a better start than right here in the Honor Cup. Now do you have…..

Her voice trails off as she spots something down in the distance that catches her eye. A Cheshire-cat like grin appears on her face as she slowly starts to walk off.

Savannah Taylor: Excuse me Tom, but I have business…….elsewhere.

With that she turns on her heel and walks off towards what distracted her in the first place, leaving Tom there once again all by himself. The scene then cuts to a commercial break.

We return from commercial, and standing outside the RIMAC in the parking lot is Jonathan Collins. After the threat made toward his family, Collins looks absolutely angry, a baseball bat in hand.

Jonathan Collins: So it’s like this, Jerry? You couldn’t stop after Fiona knocked you out, so it’s this? Come on, asshole, it’s time!

Collins slams the bat against a garbage can, knocking it over as he looks enraged, scanning the lot for a sign of The Evangelist.

Jonathan Collins: MAN UP, MATTHEWS! TAKE YOUR MEDICINE AND I’LL LEAVE JUST ENOUGH FOR YOU TO MAKE THE MAIN EVENT!

As Collins continues to summon the presence of the by-now perennial thorn in his side, the sound of footsteps is heard. But, to Jon’s chagrin, it isn’t the good Reverend who walks out from behind a car, but Deacon Jeremiah instead. The Deacon has a wide grin on his face.

Deacon Jeremiah: What’s the matter, Collins? Something tells me you were expecting someone else.

Jonathan Collins: He send you to take his punishment? I don’t have time for this, Jeremiah. He’s got thirty seconds to take this like a man, or I swear he’s unemployed at the end of the night.

Deacon Jeremiah: Don’t worry, my dear false king. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.

Jonathan Collins: Well that bastard can go to he--

Without much warning, the loud shriek of a war cry is heard. Quickly appearing in the screen is Jerry Matthews, who runs up behind Jon and smashes him in the head with a large, gold-plated Bible. Jon goes down hard to the asphalt, favoring his head as the divine duo begin to stomp a certified mudhole into him. After a few moments, Jerry motions to Jeremiah and they both stop. Jerry bends down on one knee next to Collins, who is lying face down. Jerry opens the Bible, and reveals that all of the pages have been hollowed out, all of them having been replaced by a large brick.

Jerry Matthews: What they say really is true, Jon. This book really does contain something for everyone.

Jerry motions to the the Deacon, who then picks up the staggered EXODUS Pro Director. The Deacon attempts to hold Collins steady, but is shocked when Jon adeptly steps on one of his feet, and then levels him with an elbow directly in the groin. Jeremiah’s grip is subsequently broken as he begins to favor his family jewels. Jerry sees this latest development, and tries to once again level Jon with the Bible. Jon ducks, and Jerry turns around to meet a right hand directly in his jaw. The Bible hits the ground with a loud clang, and Jerry staggers backwards. Jon moves forward and nails him with a few more ferocious right hands. Jon then tries to nail him with a clothesline, but Jerry ducks. Jon turns around, preparing a ZERO Hour Backfist, but instead of striking the pastor’s skull, to his misfortune, his fist only collides with the brick-bearing Bible that Jerry has recovered. Upon impact, Jon lets out a loud scream of pain before being floored by a tackle from behind by the recently recovered Deacon. As the two of them continue to attack Collins, Jerry reaches into his pocket and produces a pair of handcuffs.

Jerry Matthews: Hold him!

Jeremiah complies and holds him as the two drag him over to a nearby chain link fence, Matthews starting to cuff him to the fence as Jon tries to kick them away to protect himself. Alas, Collins is one man against two, and the fight is lost as Jon’s wrist is bound to the fence.

Jerry Matthews: It’s time that you reap what you have sown, Collins. Vengeance shall be mine.

Jerry and the Deacon head off screen, and Jon continues to try and escape, repeatedly trying to yank himself free. But, as before, his attempts yield only failure. His eyes grow wide in shock as he hears the revving of a motor. He looks over to find a white limo emblazoned with the symbol of the Matthews Ministry on its hood about 50 feet away from his new prison. The engine continues to rev, and thick smoke begins to appear around the back tires. Suddenly, the car begins to move forward at blazing speed. The limo runs through the section of fence Jon is bound to. The section of fence catches onto the grill and Jon is dragged for a few feet before the limo comes to a stop. Collins screams out in pain again, as Matthews and Jeremiah climb out of the limo and gather around the downed EXODUS Pro Director, admiring their latest bit of handiwork.

Jerry Matthews: Throughout your reign of power, you’ve always consistently broken the holiest and unwritten of commandments. THOU SHALT NOT [censored] with GOD’S BROADSWORD!!!

He then delivers one final kick to Jon’s skull and the two walk offscreen, their task having been completed. Jon continues to favor his wrist, which is still bound to the destroyed section of fencing. The camera pans over to find the spokesman of Nicholas Gray, Papa Arino walking into the parking lot, and finding Jon in his condition.

Papa Arino: ...This not good. SOMEONE GET ASSISTANCE!

Papa runs off to find some help for his downed boss as the scene fades back to ringside.

Dick Morosi: That...that's heinous.

Seth Ericson: We've watched Jonathan Collins for years now, and I can safely say that may be one of the most cruel things I've seen happen to him. Jerry Matthews just took this to a dangerous level.

Dick Morosi: While Papa Arino gets help for Jonathan Collins, we've got a double debut coming up next. Kevin Hardaway meets Anna Molly, the winner qualifying for the Honor Cup, and it's next.

HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
ANNA MOLLY vs. KEVIN HARDAWAY

"Anna Molly" by Incubus begins to play as Anna Molly bounds out from behind the curtain and half-runs, half-skips down to the ring, an almost sinister smile on her face the whole way there. She slides into the ring and does wrist-flexors until the starting bell.

David Zinkus: Currently in the ring, from Seattle, Washington...she is AAAAAAAANNNAAAAA MOLLLLY!

Dick Morosi: Anna Molly making some waves with her early interviews and talks so far, Seth.

Seth Ericson: I'm going to keep my mouth shut, since I'm convinced she can kill me.

Dick Morosi: And if she can't, this guy just might.

The house lights go out in the arena as the opening of "Violence (Enough is Enough)" by A Day to Remember flares up. Strobe lights begin to go insane when the vocals blare out of the sound system as Kevin Hardaway appears in the entry way. The crowd is thrilled seeing him as Kevin inhales before he makes his way down the ring. A few hands get slapped away as once Kevin is at ringside, he hops up on the ring apron. The lights are back to normal as they enter the ring as he heads to the nearest turnbuckle and goes up to the top buckle. Some take pictures as he steps down, inhaling once more as he does the same thing on the other side of the ring before backing into the corner as he then waits for the match to begin as his entrance song fades off.

David Zinkus: And her opponent...from Baltimore, Maryland, weighing in tonight at 229 pounds...HE IS KEVINNNNNN HARDAWAY!

Dick Morosi: Kevin Hardaway, no stranger to competition! He's got a well known reputation as he comes into EXODUS, and some have to wonder if his timing has anything to do with the arrival of the Godfathers of Wrestling.

Seth Ericson: And considering their blood feud with Hardaway, you have to wonder if they called in this tiny, violent woman to finish the job they started.

Dick Morosi: We’ll have to see as the bell sounds and this match has now started!

Kevin Hardaway quickly strikes with a leaping spinning heel kick on the head of Anna Molly. Molly is quickly back up but Hardaway is able to do a quick hiptoss on the smaller wrestler. Molly tries a dropkick when she gets right back up, but Hardaway beats her to the punch with his own dropkick.

Seth Ericson: I’d say the advantage so far goes to Hardaway.

Dick Morosi: I won’t disagree.

Molly gets her first taste of offense when she is able to counter an irish whip into a drop toe hold. She quickly adds an ankle lock to the attack, but Hardaway gets out of it just as quickly. Anna bounces off the ropes and hits a hurricanrana.

Dick Morosi: And now Molly is fighting back!

Seth Ericson: Still keeping my mouth shut. Molly gets the cover.

ONE!!


TWO!!


THR…NO!

Kevin Hardaway quickly gets his shoulder off the match. Molly is quick to lock in a sleeperhold before Hardaway can get to his feet. After Hardaway starts to fade away and gets back on the ground.

Dick Morosi: She may have him down and out after this one. Referee D’Artis Johnson is checking for the three count.

Arm up once…drops…arm up twice…drops…arm up the final time…IT STAYS UP!

Seth Ericson: Here we go!

He fights to get back up as he makes it to one knee before delivering an elbow to Molly’s midsection followed by another. Kevin pushes the hold and tries to send Molly into the corner, but she backflips off the top rope but HARDAWAY TURNS AND CLOTHESLINES HER HARD!

Dick Morosi: Well that was impressive. Cover by Kevin Hardaway.

ONE!!



TWO!!!



THRE…NO!!

Anna Molly gets her shoulder off the mat. Kevin bounces off the ropes once again and tackles Anna Molly, but she somehow counters it into a small package.

ONE!!


TWO!!



THREEKICKOUT!!

Dick Morosi: And Kevin is just a split second too late! The ref is calling for the bell.

WINNER: ANNA MOLLY

We cut to an area backstage, where Tom Matheny is seen walking over to a figure sitting in a chair, Kira T. Zeppeli. The despair eater is leaning his head against the wall, his uncovered eye closed.

Tom Matheny: Uhm...Mr. Zeppeli?

Kira's eye slowly blinks open, then immediately widens, as he sits up, looking around the room in confusion.

Kira T. Zeppeli: Huh. Now just where am I...

Tom Matheny: ...you're in the RIMAC. You just beat Parker Wayde? You've qualified for the Honor Cup?

Kira T. Zeppeli: Is that so...

He turns his head to look at Tom, and his eye narrows.

Kira T. Zeppeli: Matheny? What a pathetic little thing you actually ar-

He pauses, blinking. He reaches his hand up and taps the eyepiece that he wore over his eye for his match. He slowly pulls it off, looking at it with a small smile.

Kira T. Zeppeli: Ah...that explains it then....

Tom Matheny: Right...so, what are your plans now?

Kira doesn't answer, instead finding himself transfixed by the eyepiece, holding it up to look at the inside of it, eyes scanning along it. The smile grows into a grin as he stands up, pocketing it. He looks at Tom and pats him on the back.

Kira T. Zeppeli: My plans now....you'll see soon enough.

He walks off with a laugh, as Tom looks on, slightly worried, as we cut backstage to a seemingly deserted area. There are a littering of trash cans and dumpsters. From just out of shot, a blast of thick bluey grey smoke is blow into view. From here steps the grizzled figure of Andreas Lasiewicz, clad in a tailor made suit. His eyes tell a story, one that most would never want to hear, and he glares into the camera.

Andreas Lasiewicz: I shall keep this very short and sweet. I heard your little statement, Wulf Erikssen, it interested me greatly… And since this statement there has been a little change in plans. You see Wulf, yourself and Lenton have failed to defeat The Turks in three attempts now. Three times you have tried to defeat us… Three times you have failed. So it has been decided that you will have the chance to even things up, right here… Tonight! We are going to confront each other in three different falls. Now this is not your traditional ‘best of three falls’. There will be THREE falls. The first, an attempt to regain your pride. The second will be contested for Honor Cup qualification… And the third? The third will be for the Tag Team Championship. It is not my decision; I am simply the messenger… I hope you are ready, Trouble… This is your last chance to leave a mark… Because if you fail… You will never get the chance again… See you soon…

The shot cuts to a commercial.

Standing backstage within the interviewer area after the commercial break, microphone in hand, dapper shirt and pants, an attempt at an award winning smile and the kind of personality that clearly says he hasn’t met the mother of his kids just yet. Of course, we’re speaking about Tom Matheny.

Tom Matheny: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m supposed to actually be having Chris Strike join me to talk ab-

“Whoa there, chief…”

Matheny glanced over to his left, as the camera pans back…focusing on a slender and rather tall man with short, curly black hair, brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow holding a guitar case while wearing a leather jacket (with a Van Halen t-shirt), denim jeans and old Chuck Taylor’s. He managed a small smile, as he placed a hand around Matheny’s right shoulder, as he looks on curiously.

Tom Matheny: Um…I’m sorry, but…you’re not Chris St-

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, Chris is a smidgen busy checking up on things.”

Tom Matheny: …I’m sorry, you are?

Gavin Krauser: The name is Gavin Krauser, good sir. I just recently got hired, but me and Chris go back a few years. I used to work for him as a bartender at his Gastro-Pub in Tampa, back when he and Lyn Dallins owned it. Did a bit of wrestling during that time too, and just…well, that part didn’t work out. But nevertheless, I kinda saw an opening for a job and ended up applying for it.

Tom Matheny: So, you’re a new hire. Okay. Are you wrestling for EXODUS Pro now?

Gavin Krauser: Oh no, no, no…as I said, I used to do it, but I’m not the biggest fan of it. Decided I’m much better being an entertainer, really.

Tom Matheny: Wait…so, if you aren’t wrestling and yet, you just got a job here.

Gavin sighs, placing an arm around Matheny.

Gavin Krauser: Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, chief. I’m here to entertain. I’m also here to do a very important job. See, at some point in their lives, everybody and their mothers wish that they could have a soundtrack playing behind them. Be it a favorite song or some sort of inspirational, catchy theme to push through the gym…well, I am that guy. I am that soundtrack. I am the six-string symphony that EXODUS Pro’s Owner Nicholas Gray and the Graytourage has needed for so long…and by the Gods, I am the symphony that EXODUS Pro deserves.

Matheny blinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four times.

Tom Matheny: So…you’re telling me that you’re an official soundtrack guy?

Gavin Krauser: Yes. That’s exactly it. I play the guitar. And I make art with it.

Tom raises his eyebrows, which Gavin notices in full, as he lets go of Matheny.

Gavin Krauser: Look, I know you have your doubts and all…so, instead of just talking about it, let’s get this done properly, shall we?

Gavin reaches behind him and removes the strap from his guitar case, carefully setting it down before opening the case and bringing out a BEAUTIFUL cherry red Harrison-Clapton 1957 Les Paul Standard. "Lucy," if you will. The kind of guitar that emanates a presence that only those who are bold and talented should touch it, let alone be anywhere near it. Gradually, Gavin places the case aside and brings out the guitar, strapping it on and adjusting it for a brief moment before clearing his throat.

Gavin Krauser: And on that note, we cue the music…

No guitar pick needed, Gavin literally begins to bust out the riff to Eric Clapton’s “Layla” and following suit with it, as Tom Matheny stares in awe as he continues to play accordingly…the cameras gradually fading elsewhere as they watch Gavin do a power slide across the hall WHILE still playing. This brings us back out to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: I wonder if he knows any Fleetwood Mac...

Seth Ericson: I'm lovin' this guy! More music!

Dick Morosi: You want more music? It's the perfect time for that with this Honor Cup qualifier! It's The Dropkick King Adrien Cochrane wrestling against the debuting Brett Sands next!

"Burn" by Papa Roach begins to blare all throughout the arena as the audience begins to boo. Brett Sands steps through the curtains, wearing his dark green trunks and his dark green sleeveless hoodie, a cocky smirk on his face as he stands at the top of the ramp. The audience continues to throw heat his way and all he does is raise his right arm up in the air, hand balled up to a fist.

David Zinkus: The next match is an Honor Cup Qualifier, and is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Cincinnati, Ohio, this is Brett Sands!

Sands slowly makes his way down the ramp, that same smirk on his face as he can hear the boos, but does not pay attention to the people who are throwing said hate at him. Once reaching ringside, Brett makes his way up the steel steps and enters the ring before walking to the center of it and basking in the hate, letting out a small "ah" sound before removing his hoodie and tossing it at the announcer. Brett then makes his way towards his corner and stretches as he awaits for the match to start.

Seth Ericson Brett Sands or should I say, “Big Brother”, has a grand opportunity in front of him. A chance to qualify for the Honor Cup, and defeat the former World Champion awaits him. He’s very capable of doing just that.

Dick Morosi: But don’t forget the capabilities of the man he’s slated to face. He is in fact, as you alluded to, the FORMER EXODUS World Champion, and is looking to reach the pinnacle of this company again.

he lights in the arena dim as smoke starts to fill up the entrance way and ramp as a piano begins to play. With the sign of smoke comes fire on the EXOScreen and then as the music stops, up on the giant video wall…

Seth Ericson: And speaking of the devil



Suddenly, the music kicks back in for the remainder of the intro of "Through the Fire" by Day of Fire!



As the chorus begins, out from the back, standing amidst the smoke and simulated fire is "The Dropkick King" Adrien Cochrane!

David Zinkus: And his opponent! Coming down the aisle, from New Orleans, Louisiana...HE IS THE DROPKICK KING, ADRIENNNNNNNN COCHRANE!

I'll see you through the flood,

See you through the fire,

See you through the storms-a-raging...

Adrien surveys the crowd, nodding and he finally pumps his fist, looking like he's slamming it down toward the ground, eliciting huge sparks of pyro that ignite from the top of the entrance way in time with his gesture! Starting to walk down the ramp, he nods his head in time with the music as he reaches his hands out, starting to slap hands with the fans who are cheering for him. Getting to the ring, he instantly hops up and practically slides across the apron before climbing up to the top turnbuckle to raise his arms to the crowd!

Dick Morosi: Adrien seems to be in top form tonight. He’s focused, and itching for a fight. You can see that hunger and determination in his eyes. He wants to recapture that World Title, and that journey starts tonight!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, well Brett Sands will determine how long of a journey it is.



As the second time through the chorus starts, Adrien steps into the ring and moves across from where he enters, coming over to salute the other side of the audience! Continuing to salute the audience, Adrien finally hops down and starts to remove his shirt, looking intensely at the other side of the ring as he starts to mentally prepare for the match.

HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
ADRIEN COCHRANE vs. BRETT SANDS

“DING!”

“DING!”

“DING!”

Dick Morosi: Well there goes the bell Seth, and these two are ready to get things started.

Hammer meets metal three times, signaling the start of the match. Adrien cracks a smile at Sands, who in turn, cracks a confident, smug grin of his own. The two suddenly advance to the center of the squared hell, locking in a collar and elbow tie. Not long after does the Ohioan grab Cochrane’s arm before spinning under it, whilst twisting the aforementioned limb and hyperextending the elbow. The former World Champion winces slightly from the deceptively painful grapple, but his composure, and simply rolls forward before springing back to his feet, coercing his arm back to its neutral position. He proceeds to drop to his knees before taking his free hand and swiping at Brett’s legs as if here were chopping down a tree with an axe, taking them out from under him and dropping Sands to the canvas. The Dropkick King then attempts to mount his foe, whilst simultaneously pressing his palms against Brett’s, and entwining his fingers with his opponent's. Sands blocks the maneuver, bringing his knees to his abdomen, forcing Adrien to careen against them. In one fluid motion, Cochrane leaps backward, using his leverage to drag Sands from his supine position and back to a state of full verticality, before leaping back into air - whilst relinquishing the playground mercy hold like fingercuff, and ultimately straddling the Ohioan’s shoulders. With his legs strategically scissored around his adversaries neck, Cochrane flips backward, effectively dragging Sands off his feet and influencing him into a forward somersault. Brett lands with a thud on the mat, before quickly rolling under the bottom rope and out of the ring. He slams his hand on the side of the apron in obvious frustration; on the outside looking in, Sands locks eyes with The Dropkick King, glaring at him while Adrien claps his hands, applauding sardonically, not in approval of his foe’s performance, rather to get in his head and show him that he won’t be taken lightly.

Dick Morosi: That was brilliant, great catch-as-catch-can wrestling from those two, with Adrien just getting the better of Sands. That Headscissors Takedown will definitely give Sands something to think about.

Seth Ericson: Sands has to keep his cool, and rethink his approach. Cochrane is quicker than a hiccup, and is a very underrated mat technician. The guy can score a pinfall from any position.

Sands slides back into the ring facing no opposition, as Adrien extends an arm out as if to invite him to do so. Brett looks out into the crowd through his peripheral vision, before hissing his frustration through his grit teeth, appearing flustered by The Dropkick King in the early goings of the bout. Adrien begins shuffling fist feet, dancing in place before approaching his adversary, extending both his hands, edging on another lock-up of sorts. Brett obliges, and both competitors collide in a collar and elbow tie once more, initiating another round of muscular fortitude. Despite giving up the advantage in the strength and size department, Adrien uses his drive, determination, and lower focus of balance to back his opponent up, effectively sending Sands backpedaling into the ropes. Upon Brett’s contact with the ring cables, Cochrane releases his hold - then seizes his foe by the arm before pulling him off said cables and attempting to launching him across the squared circle. Sands has other plans however, and quickly pivots and turns to face Adrien, before grabbing by the arm, both upper and lower, and reeling him in. The two competitors embrace as Sands executes a waistlock, quickly clasping his hands together before shifting his weight behind him - dragging the Cruiserweight off his feet and tossing him overhead causing him to flip forward in complete revolution. The Louisianian crashes into the canvas with a resounding thud, and with his shoulders flattened to the canvas, Sands crawls over to his sprawled body and hooks his leg.

Seth Ericson: Score one for Sands with a Belly to Belly Suplex. He won’t be outclassed and outwrestled tonight Dick, no he won’t!

”ONE”

“TWO”

Adrien contorts his body, lifting a shoulder up off the canvas, and proving how shrewd and opportunistic he is, scissors his legs around the arm of his foe before quickly wrapping his hands around Brett’s face. He conjoins his hands before rolling off his back and up to a seated position, coercing his adversary onto his chest and catapulting him right onto the doorstep of defeat. As his head is pulled back, Brett’s eyes bulge and widen with fear and trepidation, as he’s captured and held captive in a nightmare from his worst dreams, and hell he can’t possibly hope to endure. The crowd erupts, standing on its feet, both cheering and looking on intently as Sands remains helplessly imprisoned in the Crossface, with his hands hovering over the mat, appearing mere seconds away from succumbing to the terrible agony and submitting. Panicking, the Ohioan reaches for the ropes, but safety and salvation proves too elusive, as the ring cables are much too far out of his reach. With the ropes no longer a viable element to use to escape, Sands raises himself up onto his knees before rolling onto his back, shiting both superstars positioning, ending up with his upper back on top of Adrien’s chest, with The Dropkick King himself beneath his foe’s massive frame with his shoulders pinned down to the mat. The referee, Dan Arnouil, slides down into position, as Sands desperately tries to force his adversary to give up his submission with a pin attempt. With the ref’s vision obstructed due to his positioning, Brett quickly reaches out and grasps the rope, clutching it tightly, looking to use it to steal the victory.

”ONE”

“TWO”

Before the three count can be applied, Arnouil stops mid-stride, and catches Brett’s illegal, underhanded tactic through the corner of his eye. He quickly pulls Brett’s arm off the rope and calls for a break. As the two superstars release their grasps on one another, Adrien rolls away, completely confused as to what has transpired, contrary to Sands whose face is contorted in a similar expression of befuddlement, but not in ignorance of what’s going on, but due to the fact that he got caught cheating.

Dick Morosi: Oh come on Dan, that’s got to warrant a disqualification!

Seth Ericson” Sands will do anything to win a match, and he almost got away with it too, had it not been for that meddling referee, worrying about things that aren’t in his control, instead of just counting the pinfall.

Dick Morosi: He’s paid to officiate a fair match, and cheating cannot be tolerated. And what good is a victory, if you have to resort to such low means to get it Seth?

Seth Ericson: The only thing that matters tonight is qualifying for the Honor Cup, regardless of how you do it Dick.

Sands and Arnouil exchange words, before Brett shoves him aside and suddenly charges at Cochrane. The Dropkick King exploits his feo’s impulsiveness, as he quickly trips him with a Drop Toe Hold. Adrien quickly grabs the Ohioan’s trapped leg, and climbs to his feet with it still in his grasp, before leaning over in an attempt to reach and grab the other. Knowing a Boston Crab is on the horizon, Sands shifts his position on the mat before Adrien can get a hold of it, and rolls onto his back, before lifting his free leg and kicking Cochrane in the chest. His leg strength, created from his six foot, seven inch frame is enough to drive Adrien back, sending him staggering into the corner. As he rolls back and attempts to climb to his feet, the former World Champion charges out the corner - Sands is able to get to his feet in time to attempt a Clothesline, but Adrien ducks, and quickly reaches around to wrap an arm around his foe’s head. He then sidesteps, before locking the Brett’s head in between the crook of his elbow, and the side of his body, applying a headlock which flusters the man formerly known as “Big Brother.”

With his face turning a shade of purple, Sands is a complete state of discomposure, and coupled with a sense of desperation and panic, suddenly begins driving his elbow into Cochrane’s abdominal region. Much to his delight, and his foe’s chagrin, he forces Adrien to relinquish his grasp, then turns in with a forearm strike - which The Dropkick King circumvents, showing his agility, and quickness as he dashes for the ropes. Upon rebounding, he leaps into the air in athletic display, and straddles his turning foe’s shoulders, only for Sands to step forward and launch him into the corner with a vengeance. Adrien’s spine impinges the padding due to the force from the Powerbomb, and he is immediately ejected from the corner, right into the waiting arms of Brett Sands who drops him with a VICIOUS Discus Clothesline.

Seth Ericson: Decapitation! He just guillotined The Dropkick King! I told you this guy Sands was the real deal!

Dick Morosi: You take a calculated risk every time you leave your feet in this business, and unfortunately for Adrien, it did not end pretty. He’ll have to dig deep to comeback from that combination of moves.

Sands lightly leans on the top rope in front of him, and peers out proudly over the audience. With a politician-grade smirk and raised fist, he taunts the RIMAC faithful, and breaks from his showboating - onto a much less desirable act, for Adrien. As he gags, confused to where he is, and bewildered to the surroundings of the squared circle, Cochrane attempts to pick himself up, only for Sands to calmly snatch him up by the back of his blond hair and lead him to the ropes. The nearest ringside camera backs away as Adrien is groggily left to lean over the second ring rope. Sands towers over Cochrane from behind, and quickly sandwiches his opponent in place as he leans him into the ropes themselves. He extends an arm over the rope rope and down to The Dropkick King’s face, and begins ripping and clawing at it. He doesn’t have to wait long for Dan Arnouil to step in with a five count.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

“FOUR!”

He finally releases Cochrane, pulling him off the ropes and tossing him to the canvas. Sands smiles boastfully as he spreads his arms to his side, looking down upon his fallen opponent. Having wasted enough time, Brett covers him.

”ONE”

“TWO”

Adrien rolls a shoulder over, but Sands isn’t too disappointed by the result, having half expected his foe to keep fighting. He wasn’t interested in winning the match quickly, more than he was interested in prolonging Cochrane’s pain and discomfort. Brett stares out at the crowd for a brief moment as he knees up beside his downed foe, then climbs back to a vertical base whilst grasping a handful of the Louisianian’s hair, pulling on the roots and lifting back to his feet - but not as his own will, he was not at Brett’s mercy.

Dick Morosi: Sands is in complete control. Very impressive showing thus far, if you overlook his taunting.

Seth Ericson: You’re allowed to kick someone when they’re down Dick. Besides, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re as talented as Brett Sands. Look at him. He’s got World Championship material written all over him.

Sands quickly belts Cochrane with a European Uppercut, before tossing him head first into the nearby turnbuckle. Adrien ricochets off and right back into Brett’s clutches, who immediately positions himself for a Back Suplex. The catch and drop is immaculately executed in one-swift movement that saw the former World Champion viciously slammed back and neck first into the canvas. Sands once again tested his foe’s resolve with a pinfall.

”ONE”

“TWO”

Once again Cochrane rolls a shoulder over, keeping hope alive, and demonstrating his toughness. Sands climbs back to his feet, and quickly kicks Adrien in the ribs, sending him rolling away in pain. He watches as Cochrane scoots himself back into the ropes, and wraps both hands around the second cable as a crutch to aid his pleas. Having seen enough, the vindictive Ohioan jaunts forward and collides with his opponent, quickly and maliciously planting his knees firmly in Adrien’s ribs -be them exposed as he attempted to lift himself up. Adrien lands with a thud from a miniscule drop to the mat, losing any progress he could have made in such time. Sands stands next to battered pile of what looks to be a former shell of The Dropkick King, glancing out of the ring to the fans watching, to the faces of concern as they focus on the former World Champion below him. Brett pivots on his feet, turning his back from his subdued opponent to further taunt the audience. He receives a chorus of boos for this gesture, but the heat only widens the supercilious smirk on his facial features. He finally turns around, and focuses his attention back to Cochrane, and immediately chuckles as he observes the Louisianian’s erratic attempts at returning to a vertical base. Aided by the ropes, Adrien is able to do just that - consequently, he spurs Sands into action, as the latter charges straight for him. Shrewdly, the former World Champion pulls down the top rope, using his foe’s aggressiveness against him as Sands tumbles out of the ring and crashes down to the padded floor. Cochrane, takes a breather, breather exiting the ring and stepping onto the apron. As Brett gradually regains a vertical base, Cochrane leaps onto the top rope, before flipping backward. Amidst flight, he arches his body in violent corkscrew motion, before plummeting down across the head of his helpless adversary, leaving both competitors inert on the floor.

Dick Morosi: Adrien Cochrane turns the tide right there Seth. That was beautiful, that was picture perfect, that was the Ace-inator!

Seth Ericson: That was a huge risk is what that was. It might have paid off, but it took as much out of Adrien as it did Sands.

Sands curls up on the floor in pain, his hands gingerly holding his head which had bounced off the ground upon his fall. Fans stare at him from behind the barricade, shouting obscenities and cat-calls. Cochrane himself creaks up onto his knees in realization that THAT particular diving maneuver wasn’t the smartest idea with a hand pressed at his mid-back. Regardless of his ailments and injuries, Adrien returns to standing and steps over the top-half of the steel steps, whilst rounding the corner to where Sands has crawled to. The reverberation of pain in the Ohioan’s head keeps his eyes closed, wincing still, perhaps too much. As Cochrane grabs him by the hair, Sands proves to be playing possum, and swings for his foe’s groin, but only to catch air. The instinctive retreat of Cochrane’s haunches protects his family jewels from becoming a speed bag and he straightens up to a stand. Brett’s eyes widen as his plan to cheat backfires once again, watching as his nemesis both lifts and drives a boot into his chest. Adrien repeats the kick once more, and quickly bends at the waist to retrieve his adversary from the depths of the ringside mats. The Cincinnatian grasps at his chest and staggers to his feet in scrapping of his falsified strategy. The Louisianian follows, quick to advance on his stunned foe as he slithers under the bottom rope and scrambles to his feet. Sands pivots on his spaghetti legs and the two meet in the center of the ring, Adrien keeping control of things as he scores with a toe kick to the abdomen. Brett folds in half and is shunted into the ropes behind him with his arm held in the palm of his antagonist. He is then ricocheted across the ring and makes contact with the ropes, yet holds himself at bay by underhooking the top rope behind him. His legs leave the canvas slightly with his momentum, yet nevertheless halts the Irish Whip. Even without a glance to his enemy, Sands ducks under the ropes and stands on the apron, turning his back to the ring and glancing at the fans. In arrogance, he gestures with a pointed finger to the side of his head, screaming “Not So Fast!” with a smile in reference to his reversal. He then turns back around in time to be face-to-face with Cochrane who has now closed the gap between them, his hands placed on the top rope as well. In cartoon folly, Adrien pushes the ring cable toward Sands will all his strength, then back toward him - this causes Brett, in his grip, to leave his feet and flop unceremoniously back into the ring.

Dick Morosi: Adrien is done playing games now Seth.

Sands lands squarely on his back and rushes to a vertical stance with Adrien stalking him from behind. Upon turning around, Brett is immediately kicked in the hamstring. Cochrane winds his leg up a second time, then strikes him again, this time in the shin, and finally for a third time, now in the thigh. Out of desperation, Brett lunges forward with a raised knee - said knee burrows into Adrien’s solar plexus, causing him to double over and suppressing his onslaught. Sands quickly grabs him by the arm, and launches him into the nearby turnbuckle. With Sands in hot pursuit, Cochrane takes evasive action, quickly running up the turnbuckle with remarkable agility, and balance before pushing himself off with his feet - he suddenly leaps backward and over the head of his incoming foe. A bewildered Sands turns around, irate and shocked by The Dropkick King’s evasion - so appalled the rushes in on impulse alone, stepping forward with a Clothesline. The light-footed Louisianian circumvents the maneuver, and ends up behind his opponent. As Sands pivots to face him in the eyes, it’s then that the former World Champion strikes, as he kips up off his lower leg and brigs it cracking against the Ohioan’s cranium with a sickening enzuigiri. The devastating assault to the side of the Heavyweight’s cranium limps his arms and legs, and sends him backpedaling into the corner where he slouches down in a daze. With haste, Cochrane charges the corner, then leaps forward and juts out his legs, driving them into Brett’s skull. The assault on his head leaves Sands collapsing to the mat in half-conscious, as he falls onto his side, then rolls onto his back.

Cochrane stares at the lifeless carcass beside him, before surveying the crowd which has been enraptured by his offense. Realizing he’s in the driver’s seat, he doesn’t squander the opportunity, as he slowly rolls under the bottom rope and crawls to the corner. He slowly ascends the top turnbuckle, and upon reaching the summit, takes a brief moment to catch his breath and build suspense. Finally, he hops off his feet and springboard into the air, flipping forward and plummeting onto the supine Sands, dropping his one hundred, and ninety pound frame onto the Ohian’s chest. The arena explodes as Cochrane turns over to hook his leg.

”ONE”

“TWO”

Sands bucks out of the pin attempt, objecting to his would be hindering television defeat.

Dick Morosi: I thought he had him! Adrien can’t believe it either. Flight 182 connects, but it can’t get the job done!

Seth Ericson: I’ll admit, even I thought it was over after that. That was Cochrane’s homerun swing right there!

Adrien rises back on his knees, his hands running through his blond hair in frustration, a growl of anger rumbling from his clenched as he stares up in disbelief. Sands squirms as he hugs his abdomen, a small cough emerging. The stubborn Ohio native begins to prop himself up on an elbow with intent on regaining control of the contest, yet left fairly vulnerable to his adversary. Adrien fights through his own physical anguish and frustration, and tackles the writhing Sands. He quickly binds his arm around the middle of Brett’s throat, snaking his hand into the crux of his opposite appendage in an attempt to lock a sleeper hold. Knowing at this stage in the game, a submission could spell his doom, Sands grabs Adrien’s arms and drags him forward, sending him diving forward. Adrien simply rolls onto the mat, and springs to his feet, before lunging forward, driving his toe straight into the rising Sands’s abdomen. Bret bends slightly, his diaphragm stunned and void of operation as he gasps, giving Adrien enough time to turn around wrap his arm around his head. However, once again Brett has a counter, as he squirms and slips out of the grapple, then quickly pulls Cochrane down with a School Boy Pin. Aware of his ring positioning, he sneakily drapes his foot on the second rope, unbeknownst to Dan Arnouil who slides into position who has his back turned and makes the count.

“ONE”
“TWO”
“THREE!”

WINNER: BRETT SANDS

"Burn" by Papa Roach continues as the crowd seems almost in silent shock over what has transpired.

Dick Morosi: I can't believe what I've just seen...

Seth Ericson: This guy is great! Brett Sands pulls off a major upset and gets into the Honor Cup at the expense of that boy scout Cochrane!

Dick Morosi: He cheated!

Seth Ericson: He was effective!

Dick Morosi: While Sands celebrates, let's head backstage!

We cut backstage, and the medics are working furiously to see what’s going on with Jonathan Collins’ hand after the brutal attack on it from Jerry Matthews. Jonathan is leaning back, wincing in pain as his hand remains open and practically limp from the brutality Jerry put on the trademark left hand of The Saint of Violence. He continues to try not to fidget too much to stop the medics from doing their job, but it’s when two people cut through the crowd of onlookers and other staff that people realize something big is happening here.

Those two people happen to be Fiona Rourke and Sally Talfourd.

Jonathan Collins: Guys, guys...I’m gonna be fine. It’s...well, I’m about damn sure it’s broken, but I’ll heal.

Jonathan sighs as he looks at both of them, afraid of what’s going to happen now that he’s a little more powerless to prevent the moment from escalating. Sally, firstly, looks across the gathering at Fiona, wondering, herself, what’s going to happen. Fiona stares back. Then both of them turn their attention to the more pressing issue: Jon.

Sally Talfourd: Jon, are you …

Fiona races to his side, gently taking his arm up with a genuine look of consternation.

Fiona Rourke: No, of course he’s not! It’s broken, didn’t you hear him? He’s hurt, Sally! Right now, he needs to get home to his family. His daughter and his fiancee. This isn’t the time or the place, Sally, so move out of the way or leave.

Fiona glares daggers in the direction of Sally, keeping a hold of his arm as gently as she can so as not to hurt him further.

Jonathan looks at them both, sighing as he rubs the bridge of his nose, just wanting the mess to be over with.

Jonathan Collins: I just need to get a cast on this. Can we all just not do this tonight?

Fiona leads Jon, cradling his arm, through the crowd that’s gathered. Everyone seems to part … except for Sally. As Jon winces in pain, Fiona glares yet again at Sally to move. Sally looks from Fiona to Jon, then steps aside.

Sally Talfourd: Jon, get some rest. We’ll be lost without you.

Sally rests a hand on his shoulder, then slides it down his good arm to his hand. She gently squeezes it before letting go and stepping aside. Fiona - more interested with getting Jon some help for the moment - leads him away, only once looking over her shoulder to see Sally staring after them.

Jonathan Collins: Listen, don’t worry about me. You’ve got Whisper tonight and a chance to qualify for The Honor Cup. Just go out and do your thing, okay?

Fiona turns her head to look back down at Jon, her head shaking. She was still shaken up by what had happened to her fiance as her eyes traveled down to stare at his mangled arm with glassy eyes.

Fiona Rourke: How am I supposed to focus on my match when you’re injured like this, Jon? I can’t be anything else but worried.

Jonathan Collins: I’ll heal, trust me...and Jerry’s gonna get his sooner or later, Fiona. Just go out there and do what you gotta do. I’ll support you.

With a shaky breath, Fiona runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to press her forehead against his, whispering to him. She was still scared but knew the best thing to do was keep working and win her match.

Fiona Rourke: Alright, I’ll go. I’ll win for you and for Madison. I promise.

Jonathan Collins: You’re a trooper, kiddo. Win this and do what you gotta do.

Fiona leans in, kissing his forehead and then his lips before she stands up straight, giving him a nod.

Fiona Rourke: I will. I love you.

Jonathan Collins: I love you too. Now let me go get myself a cast.

Jonathan wraps an arm around her as he sighs, sending her off while he goes back to the medics for some help and we go back to commercial.

And we're back from commercial! Backstage, moments before bell time, Seymour Almasy is caught by EXODUS Pro cameras. With the curtain mere feet in front of him, he takes a moment to address the camera – and by extension, the world.

Seymour Almasy: Tonight is about something larger than just myself and Magnus Gunner. We're a microcosm for fights that are occurring in our chosen profession every single day. This battlefield, though, is EXODUS, and my debut here is against the most maniacal force in this company's year long history.

There's a touch of the solemn in his voice as he nods his head, knowing well what he is up against.

Seymour Almasy: Tonight is about proving that I will not yield an inch from the task I have appointed myself. Magnus Gunner, tonight you and I cross blades for the first time with a berth in the Honor Cup on the line. Bring your guile and every ounce of skill that you have. Bring your Gods & Monsters compatriots. I will bring the indomitable will that has made me famous around the world over the past decade. One of us will win, the other will lose, but I have no delusions that tonight will be the final encounter between us.

The Judge Magister stretches out briefly, arms and legs, all the while still focusing on the camera and the task at hand.

Seymour Almasy: Only a delusional man would guarantee victory over an athlete of your caliber, Magnus. EXODUS Pro, top to bottom, is full of the best athletes in the world, and any such guarantee would be a fool's errand. I will, however, promise you one thing, Loaded Pistol. By the end of this contest tonight, you will know what it is you are up against. I'll see you out there.

With those final words, we go back up to our intrepid commentary team!

Dick Morosi: On a night with SEVENTEEN MATCHES, EXODUS fans, we've got yet another doozy for you. It's the in-ring debut for EXODUS of Seymour Almasy, taking on the leader of Gods & Monsters, Magnus Gunner, in a qualifier that is going to have IMMENSE ramifications for Block B of the Honor Cup.

Seth Ericson: Damn straight, Dick. There are a lot of people – myself included – who think that Magnus can run the table in Block B if he gets past Almasy tonight, and given a possibility of thes both being in the block, that'd be no small feat. Seymour Almasy comes to EXODUS Pro with a career's worth of accomplishments, but this is something of a grudge match for him, and he's going to have to keep his eyes on the prize.

Dick Morosi: True indeed, but I do think the time limit works in Almasy's favor here. He likes a fast pace, while Gunner is much more methodical and sadistic in his techniques. As long as Gunner keeps the time limit in mind, though, whichever of these two athletes can keep the pace at his desired speed is moving on to the Honor Cup proper. Let's go up to our ring announcer, David Zinkus, and see who that athlete will be!

As if on cue, the camera catches EXODUS' intrepid ring announcer, dead center of the squared circle, microphone in hand.

David Zinkus: This contest is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen minute time limit, and it is an HONOR CUP QUALIFIER! Introducing first at this time!

The heroic sounding strains of “Glenn's Theme” by Yatsunori Mitsuda hit the speakers of the RIMAC, as a cloud of white smoke obscured the entryway. Moments later, the only man in wrestling who would use a track off the Chrono Trigger OST stepped through the fog, power-walking his way towards the squared circle.

David Zinkus: On his way to the ring, hailing from the Kingdom of Guardia, he stands five feet eight inches tall, and weighs in at one-hundred seventy-seven pounds. He is the self-proclaimed Judge Magister of EXODUS Pro Wrestling, making his debut this evening...SEYMOUR ALMASY!

Slapping hands with fans on his way towards the squared circle, the Judge Magister's attention is nonetheless focused on the ring and task at hand. Once he reaches the ring, Almasy slides in under the bottom rope, and readies himself for battle.

Seth Ericson: He's getting one Hell of an introduction by fire here, Dick. I'm hard-pressed to remember any newcomer to EXODUS Pro being given a task as difficult as the Loaded Pistol. Magnus Gunner, for all his misanthropic psychosis, is a Goddamned good professional wrestler.

Dick Morosi: Absolutely, but so is Almasy. The powers that be wouldn't have made this match if they didn't think our new Judge Magister could handle it.

The wondering about the fortunes of Mister Almasy, though, fade with three simple words.

David Zinkus: And, HIS OPPONENT!

A brief flash of silence passes through the arena as the stage is shined on by red light, the house lights dimming and filling the arena with darkness. The crimson hues float over the entryway and ramp, absorbed by the somewhat blank canvas of the squared circle. Suddenly the tranquil and quiet ambiance in the arena is poisoned by the sound of "The Quiet Place" by In Flames which rumbles onto the P.A. system. The aforementioned arena is quickly filled with boos and waves of hatred filled jeers as the curtains begin to sway ever so slightly; all eyes feast themselves upon the said commotion at the entryway, followed by a sudden increase in the crowd's negative uproar which signals the emergence of the Loaded Pistol.

David Zinkus: Fighting out of Detroit, Michigan, he stands at six foot-four inches tall, and weighs in tonight at two-hundred and forty pounds! Representing GODS & MONSTERS, he is "The Loaded Pistol" MAGNUS GUNNER!



As his name echoes through the venue, the velvet curtains are ruffled from their suspension with the brushing of white hockey-tape covered hands. Magnus is revealed to the teaming masses of humanity with a pair of black knee pads and boots, along with a pair of denim shorts and a Stone Temple Pilots T-shirt, half soaked with water that drips from his jet black locks. Gunner stands still and tall at the apex of the ramp, his face black, his wavy hair covering his face as his head hangs askew whilst he poses in the crucifix. Magnus begins to march down the aisle, removing his shirt and carelessly tossing it to the floor in the process as he proceeds to walk with a slow, methodical, fatigued-appearing amble, with his shoulders relaxed and arms dangling loosely, his weight shifting from foot to foot to cause him to somewhat sway - idiosyncrasies that go unmatched yet unnoticed to the untrained eye.

"Judge me now
Used to be afraid to let it show, bow down
A king in my own mind
Everything's in place so much brighter from today"

Gunner knees up onto the apron, slowly pulling himself up with the aid of the ropes. He turns to look at the camera, his eyes staring directly into the lens which captures his smoldering soul, and then into the outskirts of the arena, the jeers and boos of the patrons merely deflecting off of his aura. He slowly marches along the apron before climbing the turnbuckle. His head is lowered, as his fists are planted into the top padding; as he sits on his perch a top the ring he takes a deep breath, thought after thought rushing to the surface of his cerebral, twisted, demented thoughts and plans he intends to carry out to torment his adversary.



Magnus climbs down from the corner and drops down into the ring, his feet landing on the canvas with a slight thud. He slowly backs into the corner and crouches slightly, his cold-blooded eyes unblinking as his theme fades away.

Dick Morosi: That, right there, is an intimidating man.

Seth Ericson: Agreed. If I'm the others in Block B, I hope Almasy pulls this one out. I'll take my chances with the guy I don't know over the monster I do.

Both competitors go nose-to-nose, with the official of record simply calling for the bell and letting this show get on the road.

HONOR CUP QUALIFIER
MAGNUS GUNNER vs. SEYMOUR ALMASY

DING DING DING!

Magnus braces for an attack at the bell, just as Almasy feints his jump spinning roundhouse kick, leaving the two men essentially glaring at one another. Seymour nods, briefly, before firing off a snapping kick towards Gunner's leg. Magnus eats the first, but checks the second, stepping in to lash out with a big forearm smash to the jaw. Two more follow, and the Loaded Pistol shoots the Judge Magister into the ropes.

Looking for another forearm, Gunner strikes, but Seymour baseball slides between the legs, nipping up quickly behind Magnus, and catching him as he turns around with a dropkick, high on the chest. It sends Gunner tottering backwards a bit, and quick as a flash, Seymour is up again with a second dropkick. This time, he pegs Magnus full on the jaw, and the leader of Gods & Monsters hits the deck, rolling free of the squared circle to collect his thoughts.

Dick Morosi: Quick opening flurry from both men, but Almasy with the early advantage.

Seth Ericson: Gunner's done his homework, though. Almasy loves to come out of the gate with that jump spinning roundhouse kick he calls the Sword of Mana, but opted to leave it in the toolbox this time. Very few people in EXODUS research opposition as well as Magnus, and he has ten plus years of Almasy footage at his disposal for scouting purposes.

Gunner barely lets the referee get to a count of four before he rolls back into the ring. Quick to his feet, Magnus catches Seymour trying to press the advantage, jacking the Judge Magister's jaw with a STIFF European uppercut that gets oohs from the crowd. Almasy reels backwards, but Magnus moves forward and pulls him into another big European uppercut. Grabbing a handful of hair to keep Seymour standing, Gunner ignores the official's warning and pops off a third, dropping Seymour to the canvas like a shot.

Dick Morosi: Another variable we didn't mention – disqualification here does Gunner no good, and it would do him even LESS good if he makes it past Almasy tonight. Disqualification in an Honor Cup group stage match means forfeiting the remainder of the stage.

Seth Ericson: Gunner does have a temper on him, but he's also veerrrryy good at skirting the rules. Bending them, but not breaking them.

The Loaded Pistol wears a predatory grin as he picks the teacher of his once-partner back up to a vertical base. Hooking the front facelock, Gunner snaps Almasy down to the canvas with a textbook swinging neckbreaker. Moments later, Almasy is rolled over, and Magnus has the cover, a forearm driven into Seymour's face for good measure.

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Two count for Gunner in the first near fall of the contest.

Seth Ericson: And if the match stays at this cadence, there'll be a lot more of them coming.

Once again, Gunner picks Almasy up, shifting his attention to the once Final Fantasy's left arm, capturing it with a full arm drag and twist. Using his free arm, Gunner drives his elbow down over Seymour's elbow, prompting a shout of pain. Before Gunner can do it again, Almasy drives his foot backwards sharply, connecting with Gunner's shin. A second such strike breaks the arm wringer, and gives Almasy a bit of distance with which to work.

Gunner moves in, only to eat a snap side kick to the gut that doubles him over, giving Seymour time to bounce off the far ropes and peg Magnus in the side of the head with a lightning fast front dropkick. As Magnus falls, Almasy is on him, diving over him and securing the Oklahoma Roll in the process!

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Almasy with the two there on the rollup – to me, that's a sign he IS focused on getting the W tonight, and not simply trying to punish Magnus Gunner.

The Loaded Pistol comes up from the nearfall looking rather nonplussed.

SMACK!

And then he promptly slaps Seymour Almasy across the face, a sadist's gleam in his eye.

“OOOOHH!”

Seth Ericson: You may be right – and I think Gunner realized it, too! He WANTS this to be a fight, a brawl. Almasy's a Hell of a wrestler, but his chances in a brawl with Magnus Gunner are slim and none!

To the Monster's chagrin, though, Almasy simply absorbs the slap, his cheek stinging red from the impact of the blow, as he slowly shakes his head. Magnus contemplates this for one moment, then winds up for another vicious slap – his first mistake of the contest, as it turns out.

FLYING TRIANGLE ARMBAR!

Wait, what?

Yeah, that's right – as Magnus executes the slap, Almasy grabs hold of the slapping arm, and leaps up, managing to secure his legs around the head of the Loaded Pistol and eases himself to the canvas, trying to work both the choke and armbar halves of the double-threat submission tactic.

Magnus, for his part, doesn't panic – not even as the legs around his neck begin to tighten. There's a counter for this, and it starts with the much larger Gunner using raw power to elevate the Judge Magister. With Almasy astride his shoulders, the armbar is largely ineffectual, but Seymour struggles to tighten the choke.

Until, that is, Magnus charges forward three paces and obliterates him in the corner with a fall-forward bucklebomb!

Dick Morosi: Good LORD! Almasy's head just snapped back off the top turnbuckle!

Seth Ericson: That's one way out of that predicament! Gunner using the size advantage to break free and deliver a HUGE tide-turner in this qualifer!

Just as Gunner begins to drag Seymour from the corner, the intrepid Mr. Zinkus makes himself known. Why, you ask?

David Zinkus: Five minutes have elapsed in this contest! Ten minutes remain!

With one-third of the contest in the books, Gunner looks to ratchet up the intensity. Hoisting Almasy across his shoulders, the Loaded Pistol walks to mid-ring before PLANTING Seymour with a Death Valley Driver, the second high impact move from Gunner in as many moves.

Almasy convulses on impact, and Gunner quickly capitalizes, hooking the leg deep as the official drops to count.

ONE!



TWO!



THR—KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Magnus back in firm control of this contest!

Seth Ericson: As long as he can just keep dropping these high impact bombs, Gunner has this contest on lockdown. Almasy needs a flurry, he needs to keep the distance, and above all else, he CANNOT let Magnus Gunner stay on top of him like this.

Magnus, by contrast, seems perfectly happy with the pace, and picks Seymour back up. A rear waistlock ensues, with Gunner looking for a big German suplex, but Almasy manages to put the brakes on by elbowing Magnus in the face. Two more break the grip of the leader of Gods and Monsters, and Seymour goes inverted, scoring with a Pele-style kick to the face! Gunner falls back to the canvas, and the battered Almasy quickly makes his way over to the corner, ascending the turnbuckles, and waiting for the madman to rise.

Dick Morosi: Almasy looking to take his first chance of the contest here!

Seymour flies, moonsaulting at the Loaded Pistol. Magnus realizes too late, and tries to backpedal, but eats a knee to the dome from the backflipping Almasy! Seymour crashes to the canvas, but it's Magnus who is the worse for wear. Seymour quickly crawls over, flinging himself across Gunner for the cover.

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT LOADED PISTOL!

Magnus gets the shoulder up at two, prompting Almasy to stand, leap, and DRIVE both knees into Gunner's sternum. With Gunner in agony, Seymour “helps” Magnus back to his feet. Looking for higher-impact offense, Almasy grabs hold of the Gunner's wrists, and then leaps, driving both knees into the back of Magnus with a crucifix-style Lungblower!

Dick Morosi: Just as quick, the tide turns back! Almasy's got the Loaded Pistol rocking and reeling!

To Gunner's credit, though, he is on the move, fighting his way back up to his feet, trying to shake off the consecutive blows to his back and ribcage. Seymour, though, is measuring Gunner, and as he stands, Almasy surges forward, spinning into the gambit he opted not to use at the start of the match.

SWORD OF MANA!


…


CAUGHT BY GUNNER!

Indeed, Magnus sees the jump spinning roundhouse coming, and plucks the kick out of the sky. Almasy struggles to get one foot back underneath him, and is stuck hopping around as Magnus grins broadly...before tugging Almasy's foot forward into a VICIOUS lariat that turns the former Final Fantasy inside out!

Seth Ericson: Gunner's been the better striker all match, and now, it's gonna pay dividends!

Almasy is virtually dead-weight as Christum Furor pulls up his adversary, claps on a front-facelock, elevates and drives him head-first to canvas in the one fluid motion known as the...

MAGNUS DRIVER!

Gunner growls, briefly clutching at his ribcage before rolling the Judge Magister to his back, allowing for the cover.

ONE!






TWO!









THR—NO! SHOULDER UP AT THE DEATH!

Dick Morosi: Almasy alive in this thing, but only just! Gunner's come out here with a good gameplan, and has kept the speedy Almasy grounded for virtually the entire contest!

Seth Ericson: The man is LEGIT. No titles to his name yet, but he's one of the five best on our roster, bare minimum. Him being crazy and having an army at his back makes us forget that sometimes, but it's true. Big time true.

Gunner drags a thumb across his throat, stalking Seymour as he wearily struggles his way up to his feet, trying gamely to remain in the fight. As he struggles, though, we get another reminder from David.

David Zinkus: Ten minutes have elapsed in this contest! Five minutes remain!


The Loaded Pistol elevates Almasy, holding him for what looks likely to be a brainbuster, but Seymour knees Gunner in the head on the way up. The shot is enough to force Gunner to drop Seymour, and the Judge Magister lands on his hands and knees.

Seth Ericson: Gunner's got three weapons! Lithium, the Pursuit of Happiness, and the Butterfly Effect, and you've got to think he's going for one of them here!

It takes the Pistol but a second to choose, hooking Seymour in a front facelock, and setting up the lift for the Northern Lights Bomb. He gets Seymour just up off the ground, but Almasy quickly laces one of his legs around that of Gunner to block, Seymour's weight and the sudden shift catching Magnus off guard as Seymour twists him up and over with a quick small package!

ONE!






TWO!






THREEKICKOUTTOOLATE!

DING DING DING!

Dick Morosi: Wait, three! That was three, wasn't it?

Seth Ericson: Yes, it was! I don't believe it, but the ref's got three fingers up! Gunner broke out of the small package a split second too late, and he is IRATE!

An almost-stunned looking Almasy has his hand raised in victory, as David Zinkus does his solemn duty.

David Zinkus: Your winner of this contest, at a time of ten minutes, forty-eight seconds, SEYMOUR ALMASY!

As Almasy soaks in the moment, he realizes something is wrong: namely, he can't see Magnus Gunner.

What that means?

THWACK!

Blindside chairshot, courtesy of Wrestling's Only Genius. Hitting Almasy high on the back, it drops the Judge Magister like a shot. Magnus is on him almost instantly, shifting the chair to a vertical grip, and taking careful aim at the left shoulder of Almasy. Raising the chair, Gunner DRIVES it down point-first into Seymour's shoulder, prompting a scream of pain.

A second blow follows, as does a third, before a sneering Gunner tosses the chair aside, sitting astride Seymour's back and pulling back and up on the injured wing with his patented Comfortably Numb! The official in the ring waves frantically to the back for help, and a phalanx of officials come spewing out from behind the curtain as an uncaring Gunner CRANKS down on the hold, Seymour's screams of pain echoing throughout the RIMAC.

Dick Morosi: Gunner's lost the battle, but he's going to try and win this war! There are FIVE referees out there trying to tear him off of the Judge Magister!

Seth Ericson: Good luck with that! Gunner's an unstoppable human being in the best of times!

In spite of the official's efforts, it is Magnus himself who finally simply stops and releases the hold. The leader of Gods & Monsters looks down at Almasy with a superior grin, shaking his head as he takes his leave of the ring.

That leaves Almasy, surrounded by officials as he clutches at his left shoulder, working his way up to a seated position to glare at Gunner as he retreats up the aisleway.

Dick Morosi: This doesn't seem over, folks. Not by a longshot, but Almasy's got to focus on the Honor Cup for the time being.

Seth Ericson: Assuming Gunner didn't just torpedo his chances of doing well in it before it got started! Going into a format like the Honor Cup with ANY sort of weakness practically begs for it to be exploited!

With the help of the referees, Almasy manages to make his way to his feet. Victorious in his first match, and yet, the Judge Magister's introduction to EXODUS Pro Wrestling can't quite be considered a success.

If he had entertained the thought for a split-second that Magnus Gunner would be a quickly disposed of task, that thought had to be dashed into a thousand pieces.

Dick Morosi: While they help Seymour Almasy out, let's take a commercial break.

WINNER: SEYMOUR ALMASY