EXPRO On FX #8

The camera fades back from commercial to the backstage corridor. Tom Matheny stands, checking his hair in the reflection of the camera lens. Behind him is a door, freestanding in the centre of the corridor. On the frosted glass that forms the top half of the door is written the words “CTHULHU JONES, PRIVATE EYE”.

Tom Matheny: Welcome back ladies and gents, from commercial. I’ve managed to track down one of EXODUS’ more enigmatic new stars, hopefully to get a few words from him before his match tonight against the “Judge Magister” Seymour Almasy. Let’s see.

Tom turns, and knocks on the door. There’s no response. He tries again, a little firmer.

Tom Matheny: That’s strange. He was just here.

Tom tries the handle, and the door creeps open, slowly, with an eerie creak. An old style desk, with a leather backed captain’s chair behind it. But a distinct lack of Cthulhu Jones.

Tom Matheny: I don’t understand. What’s this...

Mystery Voice: CAN I HELP YOU?

Tom jumps, and half turns at the same time. The camera turns to reveal, standing just behind Tom, is Cthulhu Jones. His collar is turned up, his fedora pulled low.

Tom Matheny: WHAT THE HELL?

Cthulhu Jones: Thought you could get the jump on ol’ Cthulhu, eh? Who put you up to it Tom? The Draculas? Don Diditti? Atomic Kong?

Tom Matheny: I don’t know what you’re on about. I’m here to do the interview we just discussed...

Cthulhu Jones: I don’t buy it kid. People don’t just turn up to my office to ask me what kind of breakfast cereal I eat.

Tom Matheny: Honestly, Mister Jones. I’m not trying anything.

Cthulhu squints at Tom real close, nose to nose. Tom edges in a slightly uncomfortable manner. Suddenly, Cthulhu stands back up straight.

Cthulhu Jones: OK, ask your questions. Shoot.

Tom wipes his brow.

Tom Matheny: OK. How are you feeling regarding your match this evening?

Cthulhu Jones: That’s not a boring question Tom. What do you expect me to say? You want me to say I’m going to snap Almasy like a Slim Jim, or that Cthulhumania’s going to run wild over him? Boring. Tonight, Tom, EXODUS is going to see a Lucha Libre type match up the likes of which it has never seen. Those are the bare facts. Plenty of people in this fed have styles based off of Japanese Puroresu, or American Pro. Tonight, you have the chance to see how we Luchadors fly. Sorry if that wasn’t quite the provocative reaction you were hoping for.

Tom Matheny: In his promotional material for this week, Seymour made comment on an aspect of your personality we haven’t seen too much of, but is noted in your biographical material. That you’re the, heh, Harbinger of the Apocalypse.

Cthulhu’s eyes open wide, and he turns away from Matheny.

Cthulhu Jones: I think it’s probably best not to talk about such things, Tom.

Tom Matheny: Come on now. Seymour has come out and said it’s his mission to beat you tonight, for the good of the whole world, because you call yourself the bringer of Armageddon. Don’t you think it’s exaggerating just a bit.

Cthulhu turns back around. As he does so, the lights in the corridor all blow, simultaneously, leaving Cthulhu’s face bathed in the dull glow of the red emergency lights. His eyes seem to have taken on an entirely new dimension, and his voice almost seems to have dropped in pitch.

Cthulhu Jones: You want me to talk about Armageddon Tom? About Ragnarok? About the Apocalypse? You want to discuss and make light about the end of all things, when the Outer Gods will return from exile and take their rightful place in the cosmos? You want to talk about how defeating me will stop this Apocalypse. You pitiful mortals and your pitiful lack of comprehension. I don’t fight to bring about the end of days. I like this world. I fight to keep it back. Beating me in wrestling matches won’t stop the end of the world. What a pathetic concept. You want to push me Tom? You want everyone to take me to the edge? You want me to walk that way? You don’t want that, trust me. Because that way, my friend, madness lies...

The emergency light cuts out. A second or two passes, then the corridor lights come back on. Cthulhu, and his “office” are gone. Tom shakes his head.

Tom Matheny: Did... did that just happen? Really? I need to sit down. Now. Now let's head to the ring for a fatal four-way! Adrien Cochrane, Parker Wayde, Braxton Bennett, and Aria Dior are next!

Fatal Four Way, One Fall!
ARIA DIOR VS. PARKER WAYDE VS. BRAXTON BENNETT VS. ADRIEN COCHRANE

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.

David Zinkus: The following is a four corners match scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from New York City, New York; weighing in at 120 pounds, she is ARIA DIOR!

Dick Morosi: What do you think about Aria Dior and this match, Seth?

Seth Ericson: I feel like I am watching a rat walk right into a trio of cats.

All the lights in the arena go out, save one green spotlight aimed down at the middle of the stage.

Before I....
Take another minute just to give everybody a move
Never seen, I'ma hit 'em with another(Elbow)
Let me get up everybody
That be movin' with Travis Barker
On your mark, so ya ready?(Let's go)

Parker rips the curtain to the side and steps out on to the stage. He stops for a moment in the spotlight and surveys the audience and their reaction to his presence.

Wow, okay, here we go again
You see the wind I'm blowin' in and I'm like a manglin'
The way that I'd be manglin' the beat, they call me Dracula
Then they see the fangs goin' in
Wow, uh huh
Everybody know that I'ma come and I'ma go, huh
Then I gotta do what I be comin' in to do
A body to the beat
In other way, we givin' them a show

The shade of green that had painted the stage lights the sides of the entrance ramp as Parker starts to head down to the ring. Some of the fans taunt him as he walks down the ramp, while others hold out their hands for Parker to slap. Both groups of people get ignored as Parker has only the ring in his sight.

Keys to the ignition and step on the gas
(Let's go)
And bust a bottle and pour me a shot in my glass
(Let's go)

David Zinkus: And her opponent, from Winston-Salem, North Carolina; weighing in at 232 pounds, he is PARKER WAYDE!

Dick Morosi: What about Parker Wayde?

Seth Ericson: Dude has come off of a loss in his last two matches here. Not the favorite, but definitely a dark horse in this match.

As he reaches ringside Parker turns towards the ring steps to his left and heads up them at a brisk pace. Upon reaching the apron he stops and looks out into the crowd again, possibly reading all of the signs being waved around by the fans.

Where we at, where we at, where we at?
And we back up in the building
And we coming with a scorcher
Y'all already know who it is, it's Busta Bust and Travis Barker
Back to the beat, see we gotta go
When we hit the fire trucks, everybody better know
That we 'bout to let it blow
And we gotta get it yo, everybody if you're wheelin' wit me(Let's go)

Parker steps over the middle rope and ducks under the top rope, stepping into the ring. As he steps to the center of the ring he tilts his head to the side and cracks his neck before staring up the entrance ramp waiting for tonight's victim.

Hey, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
Hey, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
Hey, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
Hey, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go

Dick Morosi: This crowd is already so loud and right now, it has got to play on the mindset of those two in the ring and the two that have yet to make their entrances.

"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.

David Zinkus: And their opponent, from Sonoma, California; weighing in at 240 pounds, he is BRAXTON BENNETT!

Dick Morosi: Braxton has come rather close these past two shows with losing the San Diego Bay battle royal and losing to the former International champion last show.

Seth Ericson: So, like everyone else in this match that has been introduced so far, he hasn’t won anything?

Dick Morosi: Well...yeah, I guess so.

The 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...



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: 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!



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.

Dick Morosi: Oh, boy. This match is about ready to go off and the crowd is ready!

Seth Ericson: Hell yeah!

DING! DING! DING!

As soon as the bell rings, all hell breaks loose. Parker Wayde and Braxton Bennett immediately go after one another, trading punch for punch. Adrien Cochrane tries t hurry over to the two men, but is hit from behind by Aria Dior. As Aria tries to get Adrien to his feet, he slaps her arms away before leaping up and planting a dropkick on her, causing Dior to roll out of the ring. Wayde connects with a headbutt on Bennett before going after Adrien, only to be met with a dropkick as well. Bennett then tries to rush at Adrien, but he gets the same result as Wayde and Dior. A nice little dropkick to the chest that knocks him out of the ring.

Dick Morosi: Adrien Cochrane on fire right now!

Seth Ericson: Can you blame him? He is a former World champion that couldn’t even qualify for the EXODUS Honor Cup!

As Adrien tries to get the audience even more fired up, he fails to notice that Parker Wayde is in the ring and up to both feet. Cochrane begins to measure Dior on the outside, probably thinking a suicide dive, but as he turns around, he is met with a clothesline from the 232 pounder. The audience begins to boo as Parker grabs Adrien by the head, wraps his arms around his midsection, and tosses him over his head with a belly-to-belly suplex. As Parker gets to his feet, Aria Dior comes rushing in, but he drills her with a boot to the face, hitting Paydirt and going for the cover!

Dick Morosi: Paydirt connects! Parker Wayde going for the first cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Broken up by Braxton Bennett!

Seth Ericson: Close, but no cigar!

Parker is now on the mat, arms raised to defend himself as Braxton Bennett begins to drill him with lefts and rights, trying to find a way to hurt the North Carolinian. After quite a few punches, Bennett gets to his feet and begins measuring Wayde, only to have to turn his attention to an airborne Adrien Cochrane who hits a diving crossbody on him! Adrien quickly rolls to his feet and catches the charging Parker Wayde with his legs and hits a hurricarana on him! Parker quickly rolls out of the ring.

Dick Morosi: Cochrane controlling this match yet again!

Seth Ericson: This is why he is a former World champion.

Cochrane slowly begins going up the top rope, back turned to Braxton Bennett, looking to connect a moonsault. As he reaches the top rope and stands on it, Bennett gets to his feet and yanks one of Cochrane’s legs, causing Cochrane to hit the top turnbuckle. Bennett quickly yanks Cochrane off of the corner. Cochrane slowly gets to his feet before he is met with a clothesline from Bennett. Bennett quickly goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Bennett tries to go for yet another cover, but Parker Wayde grabs him by the legs and drags him out of the ring, causing Bennett to faceplant the floor on the outside. Parker quickly rolls in, grabs Cochrane and gets him up to both feet before lifting him up and connecting with a release German suplex that causes the former World champion to roll out of the ring. Aria Dior enters the ring once more, kicking Parker once in the head before slapping him in the face. This manages to piss off Parker as he quickly surges to his feet, plants a boot into Aria’s gut, and lifts her up before planting her headfirst onto the mat with a brainbuster! Parker quickly goes for the cover!

Dick Morosi: Parker Wayde taking good control of this match!

Seth Ericson: Damn, I should have bet on him!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-Broken up by Bennett!

Bennett quickly begins stomping away at Parker all the way until he gets Parker out of the ring. Braxton then turns his attention to Aria Dior. He grabs her, lifts her up, and plants her down with a gut-wrench powerbomb that seems to have her knocked out. As Braxton gets to his feet, Adrien slides into the ring, runs up at the nearby corner, quickly going up the turnbuckles before flipping off backwards and trying to connect with the Ace-inator, only for Braxton to duck it and cuase Adrien to hit the mat hard. Bennett quickly grabs Cochrane and gets him up to both feet before kicking him in the gut, lifting him into a Fisherman suplex position, turning him, and dropping him on his head with a piledriver-like maneuver!

Dick Morosi: Slow Ride!

Seth Ericson: That may be it for Cochrane!

Bennett quickly gets to his feet, noticing Parker is back in the ring, but as he rushes forward, Parker connects with a spear to Bennett. The audience boos as Parker grabs Cochrane by the head and tosses him over the top rope and out of the ring before doing the same to Dior. Bennett slowly gets to the corner, helping himself up before turning around, only to be met by Wayde, who rushes forward and hits a big splash maneuver type onto Bennett. Parker quickly grabs Bennett out of the corner, lifts him up, and plants him with Critical Mass! Parker quickly goes for the cover!

Dick Morosi: Critical Mass connects!

Seth Ericson: Braxton Bennett may be dead!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE...NO! Dior breaks it up!

Dior quickly launches forward and drops both fists into Parker’s back, breaking up the pinfall. Cochrane quickly rolls into the ring just as she gets to her feet, turns her around, and hits her with the Adrien Cutter! The audience explodes in cheers as Cochrane goes for the pin!

Dick Morosi: What an Adrien Cutter!

Seth Ericson: Well, Aria Dior is now Sleeping Beauty!

ONE!

Parker begins to stir, getting to all fours.

TWO!

Parker notices the pinfall and launches forward...













..but he is too late!

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

David Zinkus: The winner of this match, ADRIEN COCHRANE!

WINNER: ADRIEN COCHRANE

As Adrien gets to his feet, the referee raises his hand in victory as the audience cheers. Meanwhile, Parker looks at the other two laid out opponents and shakes his head before rolling out of the ring.

Dick Morosi: Parker Wayde was so close to breaking that count!

Seth Ericson: But he was too late and Adrien Cochrane tastes victory yet again!

Dick Morosi: After their performances tonight though, I doubt Braxton Bennett or Parker Wayde will be without a win for long. Let's head backstage!

Lee Redford, the new EXODUS employee, is walking down the hallway. He is trying to find a vending machine, but Lee did seem confused to where he was heading. At the other end of the hallway, we see Zero McHannon walking and resting his hands on the World Championship belt.

He sees Lee out of the corner of his eye and redirects his attention. Lee didn’t notice Zee, so he kept trying to find something to eat.

Zero McHannon: Yo, Lee!

Zero is wearing a ‘Wrestling Game Christian Kane’ tee shirt as the light hit him in the opening. Lee is nervous and certainly wasn’t ready to see Zero.

Lee Redford: Oh, hey there... Getting ready for your match?

Zero McHannon: Yeah, trying to at least. How are the first few weeks on the new job? Everything is trying you okay, aren’t they?

Lee Redford: Everyone is great here! They have really been trying to make me feel part of the family. I mean, setting up rings isn’t the worse thing in the world. At least it’s something.

He looks at Lee with a bit of pity in his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

Zero McHannon: Well, you’re a hard worker. No doubt they appreciate the lending hand. If you’re not doing anything after the show, lets go grab a bite to eat. My treat.

Lee Redford: If you’re wanting to talk more about Daniel, I don’t know anything. I already told you what I knew and I haven’t seen him.

Zero shakes his head and adjusts the title around his waist. He keeps trying to bring the conversation back to where he was comfortable, but it was already lingering in the air.

Zero McHannon: I’m not going to badger you about your brother. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up now. I just had a question, I’m no detective. If it is true, I’m trying to help. I’m not getting in the middle of your family anymore. I do care about happened to Rupert, but if you think it wasn’t Daniel, then it wasn’t him. If you don’t want to try and be friends, let me know. I feel horrible about our past, but there isn’t anything I can do to take any of it back.

He didn’t know what else to say. Zero wasn’t one trying to make anything go downhill, he was trying to put it behind him.

Lee Redford: Alright... Whatever you say. I’m a still uncomfortable about everything. I know things aren’t going to be normal and I can’t take the past few years on my life back. You trying to be my friend puts me off to the whole idea. I need to be the one that decides where I’m going to take my life from here. I know you’re trying to help, but you being around the whole time isn’t helping the situation.

Zero could take a hint. He didn’t respond back to Lee, only gave him a nod as he walks past him. Lee looks like he is about to speak up to say something, but has second thoughts and puts his hand back down to his side. Zero stops walking at the end of the hallways and slightly turns his shoulder and looks back.

Zero McHannon: Just know this... I can NEVER take back the things I’ve done. However, I can continue to take steps forward to make the future better. I’m asking you to forgive me or be my friend... If you don’t think I was just a lonely in the real world as you were in prison, think again.

Lee bites his bottom lip as Zero turns the corner. There wasn’t much more to be said. You could cut the tension with a knife and neither of them were approaching the situation the wrong way. Lee thinks about things as he shuffles the quarters around in his hand and continues to look for a vending machine and we go to commercial.

We come back from commercial, and "Get The Fuck Up" by Yelawolf plays. The crowd immediately pops knowing who it is. The person walking out onto the stage is no one other than Spirit Z. The crowd chants his name. He's wearing plain clothes, and is humbled by the chants. He walks towards the ring, and walks up the steps, He goes through the middle rope, and is offered a microphone. He grabs it, and his music immediately stops. He puts the microphone to his lips.

Spirit Z: You know. This is actually my first time in the building. And been awhile since I've been on the West Coast. But I appreciate the cheers, and such. It's humbling. Really is.

The crowd pops.

Spirit Z: I wanted to come out here and show my appreciation to a man whom I'm best friends with, and a man who've I seen under the lowest division for the longest time and now is a main eventer. He's a man who was once seen as a fluke, but he immediately showed everyone he isn't a fluke. You know who I'm already talking..... My good buddy and previous co-worker... Zero McHannon!

The crowd pops in cheers when the name is mentioned.

Spirit Z: It is weird for me to come out here and commend any man whatsoever. But I want to give my insights on this kid. He's a guy who started out in THW just like I did. He was there before me, but left. Then he came back. He was nothing. He stayed in the lower division and no one wanted to bring him up. I remember when THW shut down. And he had nowhere to go. And I referred him to PDW. And let me just say. I knew he was a great wrestler, but never in my wildest dreams did I think Zero would of made it so far as to gotten a big pop in PDW. He rose to fame quickly, and immediately became a star. And I knew when I saw that, that he was a man who was going to take over the wrestling business one day. And you people seen it. His dedication and passion for this business is ridiculously colossal. And his hard work perceived, and look where he's at. I wasn't shocked when he won the World Heavyweight title, because I knew he was the best. He was a peasant, waiting to become a star. And then he became a king. But why be a king, when you can become a God? And I believe one day, Zero McHannon can be a Wrestling God.

The crowd cheers and claps. Spirit Z walks over to the ropes and leans on it, still talking.

Spirit Z: Now, you people can speculate a lot as to why I've returned. Maybe it was to become the best again. Let me just say the reasons behind every man's power is a unique one. And mine is unique. You see, I believe I have the power still to be the best. But it's not the obsession I once had. Believe it or not, you people's word means a lot to me. I never shown it before, but it's true. When I used to come out and heckle everyone I saw, I knew deep down inside that I touching a lot of their hearts. The dark being that was once inside me. It's not there. I've said I was a demon, and a martyr. But the fact is, I was trying to become something that was reckless and dangerous. But however, don't be fooled.

He then starts to walk.

Spirit Z: I am a man who has a lot of dedication, determination, and passion for this game. I've wrestled people who were legends and crushed them in a ring similar to this. I've faced giants, I've faced dwarves. I've faced people my height. And no matter who they are. They've crumbled. They've vanished. Like a ink on a wet piece of paper. They quickly faded. I'm different, and that's what you good people are going to see. You people see a lot of great talent now, but I am pleased to inform you I will be part of that great talent as well. Because it's not whether you're the best, or if you're the greatest. It's whether how long you can stay. It's who you've beaten. Who you've managed to cross lines with. I've crossed lines with many people. I've made friends, and some enemies. Even became my own enemy, but to my defense, I've became stronger. I came from underneath this sickening world, and got ontop of it, and rose to the top of the food chain. I've became Natural Selection. Whether or not I still believe that is not important right now. Right now, the important thing is you good people paid good money to see the greatest superstars who are in the back right now. And I believe that no where in this nation, or even this world, is going to be as great as you people will be. So give it up EXODUS. Show yourselves!

The crowd stands and cheers loudly.

Crowd: EXODUS! EXODUS! EXODUS!

The crowd still chants, as Spirit Z's music comes on. Spirit Z half smiles, and places the microphone on the mat. He then jumps out of the ring, and walks towards the back (shaking a few hands along the way). The scene switches back to Dick & Seth.

Dick Morosi: What do you know? Spirit Z is here in EXODUS!

Seth Ericson: Who the hell is Spirit Z and why should we care?

Dick Morosi: He's another former Champion to arrive here, it's another one coming to test his mettle in EXODUS.

Seth Ericson: We have like eight of those, do we need another?

Dick Morosi: You know what we DO need? Another Honor Cup match! It's Seymour Almasy and Cthulu Jones...next! It's the two potential surprise packages of Block B going one on one.

Seth Ericson: We've got the harbinger of the end times against EXODUS Pro's Judge Magister. I'm looking forward to this one – Cthulu Jones and Seymour Almasy have styles that mesh together pretty well, so this should be an excellent contest.

Dick Morosi: Almasy beat Magnus Gunner in a narrow, narrow contest that has some speculating that he could take the bracket. He has over a decade of experience, while we don't know much about the Lovecraftian detective Jones, save that he's undeniably talented and undeniably out there.

Seth Ericson: What he's not, though, is a submissionist, and that may be good news for Seymour. Magnus Gunner attacked the Judge Magister post match last week, slapping on that Comfortably Numb submission hold on Almasy's right shoulder. Seymour's had two weeks to heal, but he's been very quiet about the status of that injury.

Dick Morosi: Indeed so. Does the Harbinger of the Apocalypse stray from his comfort zone and try to take advantage, or is Jones going to keep to the gameplan that worked very well against Papa Arino? One thing is for sure, though – he's lost the element of surprise that he had against Papa. Seymour's got game film on the private eye, and now, let's see how well he can take advantage of it.

In the ring, our intrepid, suited ring announcer, Mr. David Zinkus, is ready to do his job.

Honor Cup: BLOCK B
CTHULU JONES VS. SEYMOUR ALMASY

David Zinkus: Ladies and gentlemen, our next contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit, and it is a Block B contest in the 2013-2014 HONOR CUP! Introducing first!

The lights stay out as the intro rings out throughout the arena:

The arena plunges into darkness. A second later, Apocalypse Now starts playing over the PA system. The lights stay out as the intro rings out throughout the arena:

This is the end of the world...

You either wake up, or you don't...

Apocalypse Now!

As the words Apocalypse Now are whispered over the PA, the lights slowly come back on, and there's smoke around the entranceway, with bright white light shining through it. Silhouetted in the centre stands a man, seemingly in a Trenchcoat and Fedora, hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. He steps forward, and illuminated by the arena lights the audience can see his painted face, partially shielded by both the brim of his hat and the high collar of his coat. Taking one last, long drag from his cigarette, he throws it to the floor and stubs it out underfoot. He steps toward the ring, nodding to the crowd as he moves forward. As he reaches the ring, he dives forward, sliding in under the bottom rope. In the ring, he looks about, seemingly basking in the roar of the crowd. Walking to his corner, he removes his coat and fedora, revealing painted face and wrestling attire. He shakes hands with both the referee and announcer, before heading back to his corner to wait.

David Zinkus: Coming to us from the hallowed ground of R'yleh, he stands six feet tall, and weighs in at two-hundred pounds even! This is EXODUS Pro's own private eye, the Harbinger of the Apocalypse...CTHULHU JONES!

Dick Morosi: It goes without saying, but this is clearly the biggest match of Cthulhu's career, here and now.

David Zinkus: And, his opponent!

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 at this time, 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...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: It's Judge Magister versus Private Eye, and here we go!

DING DING DING!

The Judge Magister leaps at the bell, spinning and twisting into his signature jump spinning roundhouse kick.

SWORD OF MANA!

...DUCKED!

Indeed, the private investigator seems to have found some of Almasy's non EXODUS tapes, as he deftly ducks Almasy's opening gambit. Almasy lands in a four point stance on hands and knees, and tries to surge up, but Cthulhu charges, looking to level the Final Fantasy with his own signature strike.

GUMSHOE!

...BLOCKED!

Indeed, Almasy manages to get his arms up to block the Shining Yakuza Kick from the detective. Like Seymour, Jones lands on hands and knees, and both men surge up to their feet, assuming fighting stances once more to the respectful applause of the RIMAC crowd.

Dick Morosi: We've got a standoff early. Cthulhu not looking intimidated by the experience advantage of Almasy here.

Seth Ericson: Indeed not, and I think the time limit helps him. We know Cthulhu's a smoker – so his endurance isn't particularly strong. If Almasy could drag this match to twenty or thirty minutes, he'd probably have it in the bag, but there's a fifteen minute time limit for all Honor Cup matches.

Seymour and Cthulhu tie up, the larger Jones grabbing a quick side-headlock, only to be pushed off into the ropes by Almasy. The private eye comes back, looking for a clothesline, but Seymour ducks underneath, leaping in the air to peg Cthulhu on the rebound with a beautiful dropkick.

Dick Morosi: Even after ten years in the business, Seymour still possesses one of the prettier dropkicks in the sport.

Jones is up quickly, coming in fast, but Almasy drops down with the drop toe hold, quickly transitioning into a side-headlock of his own. Cthulhu, though, shifts the weight, rolling Almasy back on his shoulders!

ONE!


TWO!

Just as quick, Almasy rolls back, cranking the headlock, only for Jones to roll back once more.

ONE!



TWO!

Back goes Almasy, who decides to give up on the side-headlock, gaining back mount on Cthulhu, and locking in a single chickenwing. Jones, though, uses his size advantage, surging to his knees, and then his feet, spinning away and out, and then taking Seymour up and over with a lightning-fast arm drag.

The Magister is up quickly, but Jones leaps in the air, locking both legs around Seymour's head and snapping him ass over teakettle with a picture-perfect huracanrana! Almasy quickly rolls out to the floor, in an effort to buy some time – time the private investigator doesn't seem too intent on giving him.

Seth Ericson: Look out, detective incoming!

Cthulhu launches between the second and top strands, a suicide dive in the cards. Almasy, though, turns on a dime, superkicking the detective mid flight! A huge sympathy groan arises from the crowd, as Cthulhu crumples, landing hard on the mats in a heap.

Dick Morosi: OWWWW!

Seth Ericson: That's the veteran presence of Almasy. He's never out, always on the defensive, and a tough opponent for anyone, let alone Cthulhu – who may be on his second notable professional match EVER.

Almasy quickly fires Jones back into the squared circle, wasting no time in rolling Cthulhu towards the center of the ring, to his back, and going for the cover.

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Two count only, and both men here in sort of an awkward, feeling out phase of the contest.

Seth Ericson: Both of these guys are used to being the smaller man in the contest – and usually by sizeable margins. But here, both guys have most of their arsenal open, which makes for a very different contest – and different strategies.

A still groggy Cthulhu makes his way over to the ropes, using them to try and pull himself back up as the Final Fantasy measures him with a series of quick forearms. Cthulhu, though, raises a quick knee, forcing Seymour to a distance. Almasy moves back in, only for Jones to drop down and bury a shoulder in the abdomen, before rising up once again to hook on a gutwrench, taking Seymour up and over with a big gutwrench suplex!

Dick Morosi: The power advantage comes into play for Jones, and he's not done!

Indeed, the Harbinger's hands remain locked even after the successful suplex, and he twists his way back up, Seymour still in his grip, powering the Judge Magister over for a SECOND gutwrench suplex! Seymour lays flat on his back as Cthulhu crawls over, hooking the leg for the cover.

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: Big tide turner for the investigator! Cthulhu tried to outquick Almasy earlier on, but now it seems like he's looking to use the size advantage here instead.

With Almasy seemingly in trouble, Jones picks up the pressure, hooking a front facelock on the Final Fantasy. Seymour tries to fight it, but Cthulhu hooks the leg, Fisherman style, before elevating Seymour in the air, twisting him down to the canvas with an impressive Fisherman's driver!

Dick Morosi: It's That Move He Beat Lovecraft With! And it's got Almasy pinned!

Seth Ericson: Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!

The leg is hooked, and the official drops down to count.

ONE!





TWO!





THREE—NO! TWO COUNT ONLY!

Dick Morosi: Almasy SQUEAKS the shoulder off the canvas! Cthulhu Jones is for real, folks! The Judge Magister's got his back against the wall now!

The Private Investigator rolls Seymour over to his stomach, picking up the smaller Final Fantasy in wheelbarrow position. Looking to facebust Seymour out of that position, the Judge Magister manages to grab hold of the legs and roll through, twisting Jones up with the prawn hold!

ONE!



TWO!



THR—NO!

Seth Ericson: For real he is, but he can't drop that guard for a SECOND! Seymour's a veteran, and believe me, he'll take a rollup victory this week, just like he did against Magnus Gunner!

Cthulhu Jones is up fast, as is Almasy. Perhaps embarrassed at nearly getting caught with the pinning predicament, Cthulhu charges the Final Fantasy...

...and promptly EATS the instep of Seymour Almasy, courtesy of the SWORD OF MANA!

Dick Morosi Jones walked right into that! He got flustered by the counterattack of Almasy, and now he might well pay for it!

The Judge Magister crawls over, getting the cover, cinching one leg with his arms, and the other with his free leg.

ONE!



TWO!



THR—KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: Cthulhu's still alive!

Dick Morosi: Absolutely, but he needs to get things going his way again, stat! Use the power advantage, and above all, stop Seymour from dictating this contest at a pace he likes.

Almasy “helps” a woozy Cthulhu back up to his feet, firing the Harbinger of the Apocalypse into the ropes. He aims a spinning hook kick at Jones, but Cthulhu ducks. In response, Almasy charges into the ropes on the far side, and both men leap at each other, dual cross-bodies seemingly on the cards, but instead both men crack heads at an awkward angle, falling to the canvas in a twisted heap.

Dick Morosi: Cthulhu and Almasy just clanged heads on the criss-cross! I don't know what they were looking for, but that looked ugly to say the least! Both men down, and the ten count is on!

ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



FOUR!



FIVE!

Before six can be reached, it is Cthulhu Jones who is up on his feet first. Seeing Almasy still woosy, the Harbinger of the Apocalypse sees his chance to pick up a huge victory, hauling the smaller Almasy to his feet, spinning him around, and ducking down to set up his signature killstrike.

Seth Ericson: Jones is setting him up for the Japanese Ocean Cyclone Suplex! He calls it Apocalypse Postponed, but if it hits, it could damned well be Apocalypse NOW for Almasy's Block B chances!

Cthulhu elevates Seymour in the electric chair, but as he does, Almasy cinches his legs around the neck of the private eye, driving his weight backwards suddenly! Gravity takes over, and, well, the results aren't pretty for the native of R'yleh.

REVERSE RANA!

Dick Morosi: Good GOD!

Seth Ericson: I don't BELIEVE that counter, and neither does this crowd! There are people's jaws dropped in the front row! Cthulhu Jones just got SPIKED on the crown of his head!

Seymour remains on his stomach, breathing hard from exertion, trying to recover from the detective's flurry to attempt to ice the contest. For his part, the Harbinger of the Apocalypse is motionless, flat on his stomach, both competitors in a bad way.

Dick Morosi: Seymour with the match-saving counter for the second straight week, but he's got to get to the cover!

The official is in position, and begins counting both men down!

ONE!



TWO!



THREE!

The Judge Magister pushes up to hands and knees, even as Cthulhu remains stock-still on the canvas.

FOUR!



FIVE!

Before six can be reached, a wobbly Seymour is on his feet, leaning on the ropes for support. He begins to stagger over to the downed Harbinger, but stops upon seeing the prone detective slowly start to stir.

Dick Morosi: No way that kid is moving right now. No way.

Seth Ericson: He is, though! Jones operating on guts and instinct! He had Seymour at the brink of death, but one breathtaking counter has turned this match around in one fell swoop!

Seymour nods his head, impressed...but also knows full well that he has to capitalize.

Almasy wastes no time, crawling underneath the bottom rope to the apron, using the top strands to pull himself up to his feet, measuring the detective carefully.

Dick Morosi: Almasy's going to take to the skies here! Cthulhu doesn't see him – Hell, I don't know if Cthulhu Jones knows he's in a wrestling match right now!

Seymour's grip tightens as he watches Cthulhu struggle his way up to his hands and knees. At that instant, Almasy jumps, launching to the top strand, springing off of it, and flipping off into a high angle Swanton Bomb.

Dick Morosi: The Judge Magister is airborne! He calls this springboard Swanton the Light of Judgment!

Almasy lands across the back of Jones, buckling his arms and knees and driving him right back down face-first to the canvas, where he lies motionless. As Seymour recovers from executing the move, he rolls Cthulhu Jones over to his back, and cinches the leg deep, taking no chances with the tenacious gumshoe.

ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



DING DING DING!

Seth Ericson: HELL of a showing from our private investigator, but Seymour Almasy pulls a victory out of what could well have been defeat!

Dick Morosi: The man's living up to his reputation thus far in EXODUS. No letdown after a huge win against Magnus, and big matches with Blake Jones and Jimmy Riley looming.

The official raises Seymour's hand, and Mr. Zinkus makes the announcement for the world to hear.

David Zinkus: Your winner of this contest, at a time of eight minutes, thirty-three seconds, as a result of a pinfall, SEYMOUR ALMASY!

WINNER: SEYMOUR ALMASY

Dick Morosi: Jones embraced the fast pace Almasy wanted to set, as the younger athlete, and it almost got him a colossal victory! Cthulhu has proven he's no easy out; in retrospect, we might look back on this and say the Judge Magister was lucky to draw the private eye first, in Jones' second ever EXODUS contest.

Almasy extends a hand down to Cthulhu Jones, and the private investigator accepts it, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. The two men embrace briefly, before the Judge Magister raises the private eye's hand in the air.

Seth Ericson: More good sportsmanship from Cthulhu Jones, and a willing adversary in Seymour. Both of these men look ready for strong Block B campaigns.

Dick Morosi: Indeed, and later tonight, whoever walks out of the RIMAC San Diego Bay Champion is going to have to contend with one of these two men. For now, though, we've got to go backstage!

We cut to backstage, finding Pond and Darrin walking down one of the corridors.

Pond: I saw the pictures, you're adorable with her!

Darrin Stearns: Y'think so? I mean, after Heather...

Pond: Yes, I think so. Just go with it, you big lu-what.

Both of them stop in the middle of the hall, jaws dropped at the sight in front of them. The camera pans to find EXODUS Owner Nicholas Gray...dressed as a Greek God, in toga and laurel wreath, posing.

Pond: ...there is no God. And if there is, let him strike me blind for my heresy...please.

Darrin Stearns: NICK.

Gray turns to look at them, stretching his arms out.

Nicholas Gray: FRIENDS! GREETINGS!

Darrin Stearns: What and why.

Nicholas Gray: What do you mean?

Darrin Stearns: The...the...

Pond: Horrors beyond the veil of human understanding.

Nicholas Gray: Ah, yes.

He looks down at his attire, nodding.

Nicholas Gray: I agree. STEVIE! YOU *BLEEP*ED UP THE FITTING.

??: Oh dear...

From off camera comes an even more disturbing sight. Former adversary of EXODUS and lackey to his father, Stephen Nair comes trudging in...dressed as a maid. Pond crosses herself.

Pond: May God have mercy on my eyes for the sins they be seein' tonight.

Darrin Stearns: What. In the world.

Nicholas Gray: What? You guys know Stevie Nair, my butler.

Darrin Stearns: That's not a butler uniform.

Nicholas Gray: You've got to earn the butler uniform, and lord knows he hasn't yet. Can't even get a toga fitted right. Forget this crap!

And the camera turns exclusively to Darrin and Pond as the sounds of Gray ripping the toga off come. Neither one is amused.

Pond: I died, didn't I? That party, I drank too much, my liver failed, I drowned in my own vomit and I'm in Hell. This is Hell. This is my eternal punishment.

Darrin Stearns: I...I just want to go home.

Nicholas Gray: BUTLER! DRESS ME!

After several uncomfortable moments, the camera pans around to find Gray in his normal suit. He adjusts the collar several times.

Nicholas Gray: Guess what?

Stephen Nair: I'm guessing I fitted it wrong?

Nicholas Gray: YEP. GET THE CART, YOU'RE ON DONKEY DUTY.

Stephen Nair: ...yes, sir....

Darrin and Pond watch as Stephen departs dejectedly. Gray beams.

Nicholas Gray: This is what true ownership feels like.

Darrin Stearns: Yeah. I'm going home.

Pond: I'm going to burn for my sins.

Darrin Stearns: Yeah, yeah....sounds 'bout right.

And they both backstep the hell out of there, as the camera fades to commercial.

We cut backstage to one of the larger locker rooms. This one, unlike the others, seems to have been given a slight bit of preferential treatment. Mahogany tables are littered with various items of food, fine suits are neatly hung up by the midnight black lockers and a framed picture of four well-dressed individuals hangs on the wall. Sat upon a chocolate brown leather sofa is a melancholy Andreas Lasiewicz. He is shirtless, yet still wears his suit pants and well-polished shoes. His hair hangs over his face, his head in his hands. Next to him is his dark yellow and crimson ring gear, folded up neatly ready for him to change. And by the other side, a Gibson J45 Standard Vintage Sunburst guitar. He turns to it and picks it up, resting it on his lap. He strokes the fret board thoughtfully, then slowly begins to strum the strings in a soothing rhythm.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Hear the sirens. Hear the circus so profound… I hear the sirens. More and more in this here town. Let me catch my breath to breathe. And reach across the bed. Just to know we're safe. I am a grateful man…

His vocals are low, both in a baritone voice and in volume, as if he didn’t want anybody to listen in. He is studying the strings carefully, a whirlwind of thoughts seemingly running through his mind.

Andreas Lasiewicz: The slightest bit of light. And I can see you clear. Oh, have to take your hand. And feel your breath for fear this someday will be over. I pull you close; so much to lose knowing that nothing lasts forever. I didn't care before you were here. I danced with laughter with the ever after. But all things change. Let this remain…

His strangely beautiful vocals grow louder, more powerful and more passionate as he plays on, picking and choosing his lyrics carefully. His head rocks to a beat, as his foot stamps upon the wooden flooring making an accompanying drum beat.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Hear the sirens. Covering distance in the night. The sound echoing closer. Will they come for me next time? For every choice mistake I've made it's not my plan. And if you choose to stay I'll wait, I'll understand…

His voice becomes more intense, more emotional as tears wells up in his eyes as a seemingly mournful mind frame takes over him.

Andreas Lasiewicz: Oh, it's a fragile thing. This life we lead. If I think too much I can get over…whelmed by the grace. By which we live our lives with death over our shoulders. I study your face, And the fear goes away, The fear goes away….

In a sudden, shaking movement he leaps to his feet, letting out a bloodcurdling roar as he spins in a violent motion, smashing the guitar upon the floor. Over and over again he hammers it into the ground, as if he is taking a pickaxe to a boulder. His rage goes on as he overturns the catering table; food flying upon the wall and splattering like a collage. He pulls down one of the lockers with a clang, personal artifacts of those he is sharing the room with spilling out upon the floor. He charges about the room, flinging what remains of the guitar across the room as he collapses to the floor, tugging at his own hair like a man possessed.

Andreas Lasiewicz:… T-t-the… fear… goes away…

His last words are clouded by deep breaths, his eyes filled with sorrowful tears of red. He wipes it away, staring down at his palms, blood on his hands as we cut to Dick & Seth.

Dick Morosi: Andreas Lasiewicz isn't in the right frame of mind tonight. He's got the memory of his late protege, Isaac Bongartz, on his mind.

Seth Ericson: We here at EXODUS Pro send our thoughts and prayers to the family of Isaac, and a portion of tonight's live event merchandise sales will go to help his family.

Dick Morosi: Meanwhile, the show must go on. We've got a Block C match next when Sally Talfourd meets Savannah Taylor, let's go to the ring.

Honor Cup: BLOCK C
SALLY TALFOURD VS. SAVANNAH TAYLOR

David Zinkus: The following contest is an Honor Cup Tournament “C” Block Match!

The crowd is buzzing with anticipation for the coming match. On cue, the lights take on a blue tinge and 'TroubleMaker' hits the speakers. This sets the crowd off: everyone knows who this is leading up to. As the song bursts to life, out races Sally, racing to the front of the stage. Raising her hands to the crowd, she kicks her leg and heads towards the ring, slapping hands with the crowd that hangs over the rails for her.

David Zinkus: Making her way to the ring this evening, weighing in at a sublime one-hundred and forty pounds, standing in at five feet and ten inches of perfection, this is “The Last Magician” Sally Talfourd!

Sally stands at the base of the steps to the ring, waving to the crowd as she is announced. When that's done, she dashes up the steps, hoists herself over the top ring and bounces to the centre of the ring. Poses for the crowd as the lights return to normal and the music fades out. The crowd still cheers for the adorable Sally as she starts to stretch for the match.

Dick Morosi: We see Sally getting ready for her match, but you have to figure the loss to TROUBLE last week weighs in a bit on her mind…

Seth Ericson: Who knows, but honestly, she needs to keep her eye on that hot blonde that’s about to come out here and tear the ring up with her…

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.



David Zinkus: Making her way to the ring, weighing in at one-hundred and fifteen pounds, standing in at five feet and eight inches, she is the “Las Vegas Siren” Savannah Taylor!

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.

Seth Ericson: And this is what I’m talking about, Dick…

Dick Morosi: Savannah certainly proved her mettle last show against Aria Dior. Qualifying for her spot in this competition, she’s proven to be a dangerous vixen.

Seth Ericson: And one that I like….

The referee calls for the bell, as the two ladies meet up in the middle of the ring. Sally establishes her weight a bit, by pushing Savannah back for a moment. You see Savannah looking over at Sally for a second with a bit of a smirk on her face. She comes back and locks up with Sally once more. As they tangle up, you see Savannah trying for a kick to the shin, but Sally beats her to the punch with her own kick to the side of the Siren’s leg.

Dick Morosi: And that’s why you don’t get in the kicking game against Sally Talfourd.

Seth Ericson: Sadly, I agree, that chipper little chipmunk can kick you hard enough to need coloring books for the remaining Christmas Days you have on Earth.

Dick Morosi: Not even going to ask what that means…

As Sally gets in the well timed kicks, you see Savannah pulling up her opponent with a nice little hip strike. Talfourd goes back for a moment and rubs on her hip. Taylor pulls up her Desert Rose fist, but Sally blocks it easily. As she does, she comes back with a drop of the fist and a spinning heel kick to Savannah’s face. Savannah goes to the ground holding her jaw, with a vicious look on her face.

Seth Ericson: No, no! Not the face!

Dick Morosi: Yeah, she got it in the face…

Seth Ericson: But she’s hot! Or she was…

Savannah trips her opponent up, and Sally goes to the ground. As the Last Magician hits the ground, you see the Siren pulling her hair and bouncing her head up and down the mat. You hear the impact of every shot. You see the crowd booing as the blonde vixen starts hammering down on their favorite Sally. She gets up and sneers a bit at the boo birds, and stomps right on Sally’s chest.

Dick Morosi: That was uncalled for!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but man she looks good doing it!

Dick Morosi: Can you call this match without thinking with the secondary brain…

Seth Ericson: We are on FX, you know?

As Savannah goes for another stomp, you see Sally catch the foot. She twists her over for a pretty quick dragon whip to the leg. Savannah holds her leg in sheer pain. You then see Talfourd pulling back Savannah’s leg for a kneebar. The Siren starts screeching in pain as the technician in Talfourd is starting her attack in the knee. You see Savannah scratching and clawing for the ropes with all she has.

Seth Ericson: Look at Talfourd, she’s trying to rip Savannah’s knee out of socket!

Dick Morosi: She certainly could, if the tapping doesn’t come very soon. That kneebar can cause a world of damage, honestly…

Seth Ericson: She needs to stop that!

You see the Las Vegas Siren grabbing the ropes as quickly as she can… Sally has a look of pure frustration on her face, as she thought the match would be over quickly. Taylor is holding her knee in a bit of pain from being wrenched. You see the crowd booing at the sight of Sally having to release the hold. Savannah pulls herself up to her feet with the assistance of the ropes. She looks down at her opponent, who’s pulling herself back to her feet, as well.

Dick Morosi: Sally having to observe the rope break, but you see that Savannah’s not moving too swiftly.

Seth Ericson: But Savannah’s still in this match… And now she’s in Sally’s head.

Dick Morosi: But on only leg, you don’t know how much she’s got left in movement.

Savannah rubs her knee slowly. Sally rushes forward and goes for the knee again. Taylor goes down to the mat and keeps the head pinned down. As she keeps the head down, you see her pulling both legs into a lock. She then pulls back the head slowly as both legs are now trapped. Savannah looks upward towards the crowd that’s booing her viciously.

Dick Morosi: THE ACE OF SPADES!

Seth Ericson: That double leg Muta Lock… And she’s got her in the perfect position where she can’t escape now…

You see Savannah pulling back on the hold a bit, as Sally tries to escape the hold… Savannah sinks in both legs hard and pulls back on the head. Sally keeps trying to escape, but the Siren isn’t going to let up. All Sally can do is quit…

Dick Morosi: Oh my god… Savannah just got Sally to submit?!!

Seth Ericson: I don’t believe this… Savannah just pulled it off!

Savannah releases the hold, as she gets up, you see her hobbling a bit on one leg. The referee raises her arm.

David Zinkus:The winner, by submission! SAVANNAH TAYLOR!

WINNER: SAVANNAH TAYLOR

Dick Morosi: This is a massive upset! Savannah Taylor puts herself in the driver's seat of Block C of the Honor Cup with an upset win over Sally Talfourd!

Seth Ericson: Man, is that cup gonna look good in her pretty hands.

Dick Morosi: While Seth here gets off to the idea, let's head backstage.

As the scene fades into the backstage area, we see San Diego Bay champion Blake Jones, getting ready for his match. He finishes wrapping up his wrists with tape before putting on the jacket he wears while going down to that ring. Blake then grabs his San Diego Bay title belt and slings it over his right shoulder before turning around. Except, when he turns around, we hear a roar before Brett Sands charges into the scene and drives his shoulder right into the midsection of Jones, hitting a spear and causing Blake to drop his title and hit the ground hard. Brett looks right at Blake as he stays on his knees.

Brett Sands: Think you can get away with your cheap shots?!

Brett grabs Blake by the head and begins hitting him with quite a few rights before letting go of his head.

Brett Sands: Come near me again and I won't spare you like I am sparing you right now.

Brett gets up to both feet and drives his right boot into Blake's midsection before brushing himself off and heading out of the scene.

Brett Sands: [BLEEP]ing bitch.

As he makes his way out of the scene, Blake rolls to all fours, holding his midsection and coughing heavily. He takes a quick glance to the direction Brett left and shake his head before releasing another cough.

Blake Jones: I'm gonna get you back for this, Brett. Gonna get you back for everything.

The scene slowly fades out to commercial as Blake gets to both knees and grabs his San Diego Bay title while holding his midsection.

We come back from commercial to the trainer's room backstage, where the new head trainer, Cyril Kuller stands in front of a gathering of interns from both EXODUS and the UCSD, some local wrestling talent, and Meta Johnson.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Good evening! My name is Dr. Cyril Kuller, and I am here to-

One of the students from UCSD slowly raises his hand.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: ...yes?

Student: Uh, hi...is that...really your name?

One of Kuller's eyes bugs out as he slams his hands on the table in front of him.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: WHY DO YOU ASK!? DOES IT SOUND FAKE TO YOU!? DOES IT?!

Student: WOAH! Nononono it's real, real cool!

Dr. Kuller slowly nods, his eyes coming back into focus as he coughs and adjusts his tie.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Damn right it is. Now, as I was saying, I am here to give you insight into how we treat injuries as soon as they come in from our wrestling talent. For example, say a wrestler comes in with a broken shoulder. What do you do?

The same student raises his hand.

Student: You...set it?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: WRONG! You immediately begin amputation! Once the pointless, useless human limb is removed, you replace it with one of THESE!

From beneath the table he produces what can be kindly referred to as "a hunk of metal in the shape of an arm." The students and wrestlers recoil, with one of the locals speaking up.

Wrestler: WOAH! HEY! If you take my arm off and replace it with that junk, that's illegal! I'd sue your ass off!

Kuller grins, stretching his face.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Did you say...sue?

From far away a voice rings.

Harvey Birdman: DID SOMEBODY SAY SUE!?

And through the door barrels in Harvey, who has chosen on this night to wear nothing but a gold thong, which allows the camera, and everyone in attendance to pick up that he has "Sue Me" tattooed on his large buttocks. He stops in front of the wrestler, already rubbing at his nipples.

Harvey Birdman: Did you say you was gonna...sue us?

The wrestler clearly wishes to die.

Wrestler: ...no, no, I didn't! I wouldn't sue if you illegally cut my arm off! Honest!

Dr. Cyril Kuller: That's what I THOUGHT you said. Now, how's about a demonstration of this procedure...any volunteers?

There is only silence.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Hm...what to do about this...I might have to pick someone at random...

Meta Johnson: Hang on.

Meta walks up next to Dr. Kuller, shaking his head.

Meta Johnson: I'll take care of this. I'm feeling generous.

Thus, Meta claps his hands together and there appears Tom Higashikata who, quite frankly, has looked better. His clothing is tattered, one of his legs is pointing incorrectly, and his left arm is permanently pointing behind him.

Tom Higashikata: Oh...oh my God! Am I home? Is this not another snake venom hallucination!? OH MY GOD I'M HOME!

The young man practically falls onto Meta, crying.

Tom Higashikata: It was the worst, yo, the WORST. Did you know there's a place called Spidertown there?! DO YOU KNOW WHY IT CALLED THAT?!

Dr. Cyril Kuller: It's full of deadly, venomous arachnids?

Tom Higashikata: 'CAUSE IT'S FULLA DEADLY VENOMOU-oh yeah that. Sorry, kind of out of it due to the constant horrific pain I'm in. My leg is infected, I think. Also, every bone in my arm is shattered.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: I CAN SOLVE THAT, I'M A DOCTOR!

The same student raises his hand again.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: ...what?

Student: Yeah, uh...where did you get your doctorate?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Zimbabwe.

Student: Does that count in this country?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: ....I will have Harvey sue you.

Harvey Birdman: Oh Gaaaaawwwddddd, can I? Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.......

Student: ...I'm gonna be quiet now.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Wise man. NOW, LET'S FIX UP THIS YOUNG LAD, WITH GLORIOUS MEDICAL SCIENCE!

Tom Higashikata: Yay!

And he turned to Meta.

Tom Higashikata: HIGH FIVE ME, MY NIGGA, I'M GONNA BE OKAY!

The room grows silent, as Tom's face falls.

Tom Higashikata: Ah *bleep* me with a rusty fork.

Meta slowly reaches forward and claps his hands onto Tom's shoulders.

Meta Johnson: I'll let that one slide, since it's almost Christmas. You call me that again though, and I'mma boom your ass where they ain't never gonna find you.

Tom Higashikata: ...yessir.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: And thus everyone will turn out okay.

Harvey Birdman: But I didn't get to sue anyone, what'm I gonna do with this chubby?

Silence.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Let's all move to the adjoining room. And lock the door.

Everyone but Harvey nods in unison and makes a break for the door as we fade to ringside to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: No words.

Seth Ericson: None at all. Jimmy Riley time.

Dick Morosi: Yes, title match with Blake Jones. Blake has been on a roll, can he keep it up against the Risen Star? Take it away, David!

Honor Cup: BLOCK B (San Diego Bay Title Match)
BLAKE JONES (EXODUS Pro San Diego Bay Champion) VS. JIMMY RILEY

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: The following contest is an Honor Cup Block B Match and is for the EXODUS San Diego Bay Championship. 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: This is a re-match from EXPRO #6 Seth, where Riley was able to upset the then International Champion. Riley has an opportunity to redeem himself.

Seth Ericson: He’ll have to prove that he’s figured out Blake Jones, or he’ll end up on the wrong side of the decision once again, and more importantly, behind the eight ball in his Honor Cup Block.

WATCH ME LIGHT UP THE SKY!

"Light Up the Sky" by Thousand Foot Krutch starts to play and the crowd erupts as suddenly at the top of the darkened stage in a light up jacket, the Blue Lantern logo lit across the back, all as he stands with his back to the crowd.

David Zinkus: And his opponent, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, standing at five feet, ten inches tall, and weighing in tonight at one hundred and eighty-eight pounds… he is your EXODUS San Diego Bay Champion! The Philly Young Gun, BLAKE JONES!

Hands held high sweat dripping off me
Light it softly, got these fakers trying to stop me
This ain't a hobby it's a way of life
Just like Holyfield and Tyson, gloves on fight night
Boom here comes the hurricane monsoon
Switched up, came to redecorate the room
My ears are ringing from hearing the same sound
So what now all of the walls just came down
I blaze a trail like the rays from taillights
Sound shaking the ground like earthquakes hail might
Someday I'll die but not tonight
Excuse me while I light up the sky!

The lights remain dim as Blake starts to walk down, slapping hands with the fans as he keeps the huge grin on his face, proving that he still adores the EXODUS faithful. Tonight, his jacket signifies his status as a Young Gun and the hero of War Games, sliding into the ring as the crowd erupts!

Dick Morosi: Blake Jones has all the momentum in the world, in fact, he could be the hottest thing going in EXODUS right now, throughout ALL the Honor Cup blocks. He is a dark horse among many to emerge the winner when it’s all said and done.

Seth Ericson: Kira T. Zeppelli, Xavior, two consecutive wins, yeah, Riley’s got the momentum alright. But remember who he’s in the ring with. The former International Champion, and you’ve got to know Riley will do everything in his power to avoid being beaten by this young upstart twice!

Dan Arnouil takes the San Diego Bay Championship as the music fades, showing it to both competitors before handing it off to David Zinkus on the outside. The two superstars come face to face, their trash talk impossible to discern due to the crowd’s noise. Before any fireworks can go off prematurely, Arnouil separates them, then calls for the bell. Jones and Riley waste no time, colliding in a collar and elbow tie.

Dick Morosi: These two couldn’t wait to get it on Seth! Jones vs Riley II is underway!

And just like that, two of E-PRO’s brightest stars were locked up for the first time in the contest, and the crowd hit a fever pitch rooting for their guy. Unfortunately, the champion doesn’t seem to be having the best time of it because Riley exploits his size advantage and superior strength to outmuscle Jones, pushing him unwillingly into the nearest turnbuckle. The challenger presses his forearm into the Philadelphian’s neck, and proceeds to choke him until Dan’s count pierces his eardrums, at which point The Risen Star quickly tosses his hands in the air to feign his innocence. The act lasted all of two seconds as Riley greets the Philly Young Gun with a disrespectful, outlandish slap to the face. The pompous, arrogant display draws a collective gasp from the EXODUS lifeblood, obviously wincing as though they can feel the champion’s pain and embarrassment as much as Jones can. Jimmy steps back and scoffs condescendingly to himself, but it doesn’t last long as Blake bursts out of the corner like a dog off its leash, and charges forward. Jimmy keeps his wits about him, tracking back and wrapping his body under the middle and top ropes, forcing Arnouil to get in between the two men, stopping what could have been a fury filled flury from the champion. This has Jones seething as the referee ushers him back to give Riley some space, while the Ohioan moves his head into view behind the referee to revel in his successful attempt at further riling up his rival.

Dick Morosi: A COMPLETE show of disrespect from Riley! Ever since he’s returned, he’s been nothing but a jackass!

Seth Ericson: He’s getting under Blake’s skin Dick. That isn’t disrespect - that’s genius!

The fans don’t like his antics one bit, and they let Riley know it - not that it bothers him, mind you. It does, however, distract him for a split second as he flashes a cocksure grin to a group of fans in the front row, giving Jones a small window of opportunity - one that a man such as himself can break through with relative ease. Without a moment’s hesitation, the champion ducks under Dan Arnouil’s outstretched arms before lunging at Riley and tackling him hard to the canvas. Jimmy’s head snaps back from the mat, only to be met with a stiff forearm from his angered opponent - and then another, and then another. There seems to be no other option for the stunned Ohioan other than to kick and squirm as much as he can to create an opening, and possibly liberate himself from the violent barrage. The flailing causes Jones to raise his body off of Riley momentarily, and the tentative delay gives The Risen Star a chance to escape. The challenger rolls into the corner and ducks underneath the ropes, finding safety and sanctuary there, and forcing Arnouil to step back in to subdue a frustrated Jones.

Seth Ericson: See! He’s got Jones off his game. The kid might blow a freaking gasket.

Dick Morosi: If Riley spent as much time wrestling, as he did making an ass of himself, he might be World Champion already.

Having gotten his breather, a laughing Jimmy comes back to a stand, and upon Arnouil settling things down, allows both men to continue their match. The two men lock-up once again, a lead on Riley’s part as he has Jones flustered, and relies on that. He is able to back the San Diego Bay Title holder into the ropes. Upon contact, the Ohioan breaks up the tie, only to have Jones capture him and swing him down to the canvas with a headlock takedown. Riley keeps his calm, but it immediately becomes clear to him that playtime is over. The former International Champion climbs to his feet, Jones following suit as he still holds his head captured between the crook of his elbow and the side of his body. Jimmy quickly backs into the ropes, using the elasticity of the cables to both free himself and send the champion across the ring. Blake springs across the squared circle and ricochets off the ropes. With his agile abilities, he ducks under Riley’s attempt at a Clothesline, and hits the ropes for a second time. Jones’ speed and grace flourishes once again, as he lowers his head, prompting Riley to leapfrog him - sending the Philly Young Gun into the cables for a third time. This time however, the former E-PRO road agent has him pegged, as he leaps off his feet and slams his boots into the incoming Philadelphian’s face, taking him down with a beautiful Dropkick. Riley quickly springs to his feet and blows a kiss to the crowd, followed by a bow out of sportsmanship - or lack thereof, while Jones lifts his head off the canvas, his mind clouded by a wave of disorientation.

Refocused on the task at hand, Riley looks to continue his attack, grappling Jones and lifting him to a vertical base. Holding the champion’s arm -both the upper and lower, Riley whips him across the ring. Blake scrambles across the proverbial coliseum and bounces off the trio of cables. The fleet of foot, agile champion leaves his feet and arches his body in mid-air as Jimmy leans forward - and with both men back to back, the Philly Young Gun rolls off the Ohioan’s spine and lands on his feet. A flustered Riley turns around following Jones’ incredible, unorthodox counter, receiving a slap to the face in retaliation for his antics. Now enraged, Jimmy charges forward, playing into the champion’s hands as Jones sidesteps and tosses him over the ropes, sending him crashing to the padded floor below rather unceremoniously.

Dick Morosi: Riley just got a taste of his own medicine there. Blake Jones gets the last laugh. Maybe he’ll wrestle this match straight-up now.

Seth Ericson: You lay off Jimmy Dick. It’s hard to be humble, when you’re THAT good.

Climbing back to his feet, Jimmy Riley breathes deeply as he walks along the perimeter of the ring, whilst Dan Arnouil begins his mandatory ten count inside of it. Jones, impatient and feeling annoyed, decides to give chase to his antagonist. Rolling under the bottom ropes, Blake follows the once International Champion, getting ever closer to his rival. As soon as he reaches distance though, Riley turns and lands a well placed forearm to the jaw. Jones is immediately decked, and this gives Jimmy a distinct advantage. Deciding to show off for the paying fans, he brings Jones to his feet, before using his momentum to launch him into the barricade. The champion clutches his head and neck, wincing and moaning while the fans behind him go nuts. Riley steps back slightly, before running at Jones, quickly driving his knee into the young star’s head. The fans retract from the barricade and recoil with fear, as Riley raises an arm up to elicit boos before picking his foe up a second time; this time shoving him into the squared circle. As soon as The Risen Star re-enters the squared hell, he crawls over and pins his opponent.

“ONE”
“TWO”

Riley sits up as Jones rolls a shoulder up to break the count. He pounds a fist into the canvas, then pins Jones once more, only to receive the same two-count that thwarted him before. Getting angry, he rolls Jones onto his front. The challenger then climbs to his feet, placing one foot down above each of his foe’s knees and bends his legs - hooking them around his own knees; Blake tries to hide his arms, but a few slaps and scrapes to the back get them out of hiding, and Riley seizes them, quickly falling backward while compressing the champ’s shoulder-blades, effectively lifting him off the canvas in a Mexican Surfboard. He pulls back on the wrists repeatedly, until finally realizing that Jones will not submit to the submission, and releases him. Jimmy then climbs on top of him, and repeatedly slaps him in the back of the head until Jones covers up. The Risen Star simply climbs back to his feet, then throws a quick shin kick at Blake’s ribs. The impact of the strike sends the champion rolling, until he gathers himself on the mat, lying down once again for another opportunity to stare up at the ceiling while his foe gloats amidst the booing of the crowd.

Seth Ericson: Jimmys has control and he is in his head Dick. I’ve never seen Jones off his game like this. That psychological advantage could be the deciding advantage.

Dick Morosi: I wouldn’t be so sure. Blake Jones has no quit in him. If there’s a will, there’s a way.

Jones is grabbed once again, this time at the sides as he is pulled up. Riley gets the smaller wrestler to his feet and immediately reaches down to scoop him up. As Blake is being lifted, he throws an elbow downward, connecting the sharp bone with the top of Jimmy’s skull and slightly dazing him. The Risen Star drops BJ, who quickly lands on his feet and pulls Riley’s head down to get him into a headlock. He then turns, falling to the canvas to plant him face first into the mat with a Bulldog. The champion quickly rolls him over and goes for the cover.

“ONE”
“TWO”

The Risen Star manages to buck his assailant off of him, then he rolls away. Both men simultaneously get up, Jimmy charging without hesitation. The swift instincts of Blake Jones allows him to slip his arm under that of the Ohioan’s and fall back whilst rolling to the side, throwing Jimmy over him with an Armdrag that sends the arrogant challenger back-first into the white canvas. The San Diego Bay Champion continues to grasp the arm while getting up, holding it in place just long enough to stomp on Jimmy’s hand. Riley squirms in pain while muttering a plethora of obscenities to himself due to the agony. Jimmy makes the smartest move possible and simply rolls out of the ring.

Soaking in the adoration of the crowd, Jones smirks while he scans the outside of the ring. Without a moment to lose, The Philly Young Gun climbs onto the top rope, perching himself at the very top and waiting patiently for his foe to turn. When he does, Blake Jones leaps off the top with tremendous grace, soaring through the air like a hawk before coming down with a Crossbody that takes out the challenger and leaves both men motionless on the floor.

Dick Morosi: What was that again Seth? Oh yeah, I think you were eating crow.

Seth Ericson: Hey, I was calling it how I saw it. Blake’s turned the tide, good for him. We’ve got a lot of match left Dick.

Jones slowly climbs back to his feet, playing to the crowd while Jimmy crawls back to his feet, managing to stumble away from the ring, not looking back as he grabs the San Diego Bay title from the timekeeper’s table. He looks to hightail it out of the vicinity in an act of cowardice rarely seen from a man of his skill. The change of character draws the ire of the fans, who jeer Riley for not continuing the match. Not like he cares though, he’s just content to steal the title and fight another day! At least, he would be able to if he wasn’t a sitting duck for a man who isn’t about to let him do so. As Jones walks up the ramp, belt in hand, he is oblivious to the fact that the Philly Young Gun has given chase and is only a few feet behind him. Those few strides are quickly engulfed by the predator as he leaps onto his prey, dropping Riley to the steel ramp with a vicious forearm to the back of the head. The championship belt escapes from Riley’s grasp and slides a few feet further up than the battling duo. Jones wastes no time in mounting the Ohioan once more, clubbing the back of his head with repeated elbow strikes, strikes which force the referee to forget his ten count and warm the champion of the impending disqualification should he continue. Jones relents, but grabs Riley by the back of the head and pulls him to a vertical base before launching him hard into the nearby guardrail. The challenger’s back takes the brunt of the impact, and his face contorts with a shooting pain speeding up and down his spinal region like an electric shock. As the clang echoes through the atmosphere, Jones gets to work on softening up his nemesis by driving his boot into Riley’s chest and stomach repeatedly with a series of stomps.

Dick Morosi: Jones has snapped. He’s going to town on Jimmy Riley. Look at that fire! It’s payback for trying to run away with his title!

Seth Ericson: Is that was this is? Looks like a cheap shot to me! Get him in the ring Jones!

Riley lies wincing against the metal guardrail, looking up at the man whose sole mission is to put him out of his misery. With one more stomp, Blake ceases his assault for the time being, realizing that there is a ten count in effect. Hoisting his near-limp opponent up to a stand, Jones strides over to the ring, half-dragging The Risen Star with him. As they reach the ring apron, Blake brings Riley up to an abrupt stoppage, rocking him with a STIFF forearm strike which causes him to slump on the apron. Blake takes the time to roll into the ring for a moment to stop the count, before returning to the arena floor - it may not be long, but it forces Arnouil to restart his ten count. As he returns to the floor, he shoots Dan a glare, before shouting “DON’T YOU DARE COUNT ME OUT!”. Arnouil, half frightened, stalls before restarting the count, not wanting to get on the bad side of the champion. The noise in the crowd hasn’t dropped in volume since the opening bell, and the last thing Jones wants to do is slow things down now, because that would give his opponent a chance to take over and control the pace. Taking this into account, the champion goes straight back on to the offensive, grabbing his foe around the head before slamming it into the ring apron several times. The crowd watches on, cheering every thud sound as Riley’s face bashes off of the apron. The Philadelphian looks around once more, acknowledging his supporters before going for one last blow. Unfortunately for him, Riley’s sixth sense for these desperate situations kicks in and the former International Champion stops his head from hitting the apron with his hands before delivering a stiff elbow to the face of his rival.

Blake staggers back, almost stunned by the unsuspecting retaliation, but he is quickly met with another STIFF strike, this time a Roaring Elbow that causes him to double over in a stupor. Riley seizes the moment, grabbing the bent over champion and quickly launching him into the set of steel ring steps with an almighty clatter. The resulting impact caused Jones to end up on the other side upon somersaulting over them, clutching his knee in agony. Riley, simply on all fours, lifts up to his feet and slowly crawls back into the ring.

Seth Ericson: TURNOVER! What a collision!

Dick Morosi: Jones is hurt. Those steps didn’t move an inch.

Now on his feet, Riley shouts “START COUNTING” at Arnouil, and the official does just that, lifting his arms up and shouting “ONE!” to begin the countout. Jones stirs on the ground, clutching his knees and seething with a mixture of pain and anger as the ten count continues.

“TWO!”

Adrenaline begins to rush through the Philly Young Gun as he forces himself to one knee. Jones clutches the ring apron and starts pulling himself up.

“THREE!”

Managing to get to his feet, Jones leans on the apron for a moment while looking up at his cocky nemesis. Riley raises an arm, provoking one more smattering chorus of boos.

“FOUR!”

The champion finally climbs under the bottom rope and slithers into the ring, crawling for a moment as he gets up. Riley simply wraps an arm around his smaller opponent’s head, but Jones plants his feet to counter any intentions he had. The Philly Young Gun reaches down and grabs the back of Jimmy’s legs, then lifts him up and stumbles back before falling down. The challenger’s throat hits the top of the top rope and he bounces off of it, stumbling like a drunkard. Blake hastily pulls himself up, leaning back on the middle rope, then pushes himself off and charges forward, jumping and raising his leg to connect with a Single Leg Dropkick. The crowd goes wild as the Sick Kick connects, both men lying on the white cloth surface, breathing heavily.

Dick Morosi: What a kick to the head! This is anyone’s match now Seth!

Seth Ericson: That means it could just as easily become Riley’s again. Look, they’re both gassed. Who wants it more?!

While both men are down, a chant of “LET’S GO RILEY” breaks out in the infamous RIMAC arena. The man being summoned is the first to move, crawling into the corner, and using the ropes on either side of him to pull himself to a vertical base. Upon struggling at first, The Risen Star is able to stand as well, albeit teetering on his feet, his lower extremities wobbling as if they’re about to crumble underneath the pressure of holding up his weight any longer. Jimmy is the first to strike, as he takes the initiative and greets his adversary’s face with a fist, garnering a chorus of boos. Jones staggers back, before retaliating with a stiff kick to the Ohioan’s midsection, the crowd screaming “YAY!” to voice their approval. Riley doubles over, clutching his solarplexus as he moans in agony. Never one to pass up an opportunity to fly, BJ leaps onto the second ring cable before springboarding back toward his target. In midair he rotates his frame, turning and bringing his knees up for the Jones Equation. Having scouted the move, Riley counters, grabbing onto Jones’ legs and bringing him down to the canvas with a thud. In one fluid motion, he locks Blake’s feet in his armpits before turning him over to lock him in a half Boston Crab. The fans scream in support of their afflicted champion, trying to will him to the ropes which are over a meter away.

Seth Ericson: Jones is flailing his arms around, trying to drag himself and his opponent to the ropes!

Dick Morosi: It’s only a couple of feet! He can make it!

As his breathing slows and his muscles grow weaker and weaker with ache, a scowl begins to cross the profile of the champion. The Boston Crab had done tremendous damage, but would this really be the way he’d have to go done? Not swinging, but tapping his palm to the mat or his chest, begging to be released from the pain? Blake Jones was not one who enjoyed being humiliated. No, taking a deep breath, the champion locks his jaw in place, and his teeth grinded together as he made a last chance effort to clasp the ropes in place, and he does! The audience’s enthusiastic excitement quickly turns to reluctant jeers as Jimmy Riley holds on long after he’s been told to release his foe. JR disobeys, and Dan Arnouil begins to count for a disqualification. While the first three gestures pass quickly with no action on Riley’s part, at the fourth count, he breaks the hold. Jones finds himself on all fours, trying to formulate a methodical change of pace in his mind. Riley is having none of it, as he stands behind him, grabbing onto the rim of his tights and pulling him to his feet. He reaches around Blake’s body and grabs his arm, then spins him around, whilst swinging his free arm mightily for the Supernova Lariat. Blake avoids catastrophe, as he ducks and strafes to Riley’s back, then shoves him toward the corner before trying to pull him down. Jimmy hooks his arms on the cables on either side of him, sending the champion rolling back empty handed. Jones rolls onto his feet, then charges at the corner, only for Riley to sidestep and connect with a Back Elbow as Blake turns around. He then pushes the champion against the padded turnbuckle, bending slightly, before thrusting his shoulder into his opponent’s sternum. After driving out whatever air was left in the young superstar’s body, The Risen Star lifts the dead weight, making sure he is sat upon the turnbuckle before proceeding.

Riley climbs up to his foes level, leveling him with three left hands. He then throws Jones’ arm over his shoulder, before applying a front facelock. He attempts to lift him, but to no avail - Blake just won’t give him the satisfaction. He tries again, but once again there is no budging. Blake finally comes to, letting Riley know only be clocking him in the his floating rib, which immediately causes the former International Champion to let go. He raises his fist again, punching him in the jaw, which almost sends Riley to the canvas. BJ finishes the job though, headbutting his bitter rival, letting him plummet slowly and helplessly to the mat below. Blake sits still for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The fans decide to give him a helping hand, as “EQUA-LIZER” chants break out throughout the RIMAC. Rising up on the top rope, Blake Jones hoists his arms into the air high to the heavens, and takes a deep breath before leaping into the air, letting the support of the crowd carry him to his destination. He flips backward, looking to land onto his sprawling adversary. SMASH! Riley is able to bring his knees up just at the last second, expelling the air from Blake’s lungs and sending him climbing to his feet, hunching over in obvious pain.

Seth Ericson: HE COUNTERED!

Dick Morosi: That could be the deciding factor!

Jimmy Riley quickly scrambles to his feet, and when Blake turns, he makes him pay for it. He quickly steps onto his chest before using the same leg to kick the champion in the side of the head.

Seth Ericson ALL THE SHINE!

With Jones out of it, Riley quickly lifts him onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry, before tossing him into the air, and leveling him with a sickening elbow smash to the face. A tired Riley simply collapses on top of his fallen foe, and Dan Arnouil slides into position to make the count.

Dick Morosi: LIGHT EM UP! Riley connects! The champion is out cold!

“ONE”
“TWO”
“THREE!”

Seth Ericson: The champion, just became the former champion. What a match!

Dick Morosi: Jimmy Riley took Blake Jones to the limit, and Blake fails in his second defense!

David Zinkus: Here is your winner...AND THE NEW EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPION...JIMMY RILEY!

WINNER and NEW EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPION: JIMMY RILEY

"D.O.A." continues to play as Arnouil hands Riley the San Diego Bay Title, Jimmy giving a small salute to the still downed Blake Jones before taking himself out of the ring as he heads to the back.

Dick Morosi: Jimmy Riley puts himself in early control of Block B, but...he also puts himself in a dangerous situation, as he has to defend the title in two weeks!

Seth Ericson: And if Cthulu Jones manages to defeat Jimmy Riley on the next show, Blake gets a shot at getting his belt back from HIM!

The crowd continues to stir after that last match, when suddenly the lights in the arena dim and all focus is directed to the EXOScreen as a video comes to life. After a few seconds a figure comes into view – one that is familiar to many around EXODUS Pro – Kameron Chase. He's standing, arms folded across his chest, in a moderately sized gym with a wrestling training ring behind him, the floor decorated with mats adequate for taking falls.

Kameron Chase: I bet some of you thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you? I'll admit, my leave of absence lasted a little longer than I'd expected it to, due to unforeseen circumstances, but those of you who know me better should have known that I'd be back before too long.

He unfolds his arms and raises the Aviators that had been placed over his eyes to rest on the top of his head, allowing his gaze to meet the camera.

Kameron Chase: This time, though... It's not about me.

A small smirk forms on Chase's lips as he shakes his head slowly.

Kameron Chase: No... It's not about me. This time I'm bringing something new to EXODUS. Something fresh. Something special. Someone who is going to wreck the establishment. Someone by the name of... Nate Soto.

An air of confidence finds its way into Chase's expression and he glances to the ring behind him where a smaller man stands with his back to the camera as he drinks from a water bottle; his hair styled into a mohawk.

Kameron Chase: You don't know the name now but, believe me, you will... and it'll be one to remember. If you've never believed in the hype before, it's time to change those habits. Take my word for it. If you don't?

He shrugs his shoulders.

Kameron Chase: Don't say I didn't warn you.

The typical smirk finds place on Kameron's lips again as he looks into the camera until it fades out and we go to commercial.

As we come back from a brief intermission to promote the next iPPV, “Battle Without Honor or Humanity”, the crowd comes alive, cheering for the action they’ve witnessed thus far and the actin promised to come. David Zinkus stands center stage, an E-Pro microphone in his hand as he prepares his cue cards for the next leg in the show.

Dick Morosi: Ladies and gentleman if you’re just joining us we’d like to welcome you to another exciting edition of EXODUS Wrestling. As the Honor Cup continues, things seem to be picking up.

Seth Ericson: And as a reminder, we’ve got three quality matches to close the show tonight. Magnus Gunner takes on Chris Strike one on one. One half of Trouble in Steve Lenton, will take on the World Champion Zero McHannon in a non-title affair, and in the Main Event, it’s an Honor Cup Block D showdown between Andreas Lasiewicz and Chandler Scott.

We turn our focus to David Zinkus as he raises the microphone up to speak, until the lights suddenly dim before he can get a word out. As the music sounds through the RIMAC, the arena goes silent for a moment, a chill running up the spines of many of the members of the audience in the immediate realization that one of the company’s most hated figures was set to make an appearance. A strobe light aimed at the entrance ramp gives momentary view of E-Pro’s resident sociopath as he peers around the teaming masses of humanity throughout the RIMAC arena. He begins a slow and steady pace toward the ring as he crashes tonight’s party to a chorus of vehement, vociferous boos and jeers.

Dick Morosi: The Loaded Pistol is making an early appearance? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Seth Ericson: I share the feeling.

Christum Furor makes his way to the steel stairs, and climbs them while “The Quiet Place” by In Flames continues to blare, the audience not relenting in their quest to make certain their disapproval and disdain is heard well over it. Climbing into the ring, E-Pro’s self-proclaimed “hero” marches calmly toward David Zinkus, shooting him a satanic glare that influences the announcer into relinquishing his microphone. Gunner wraps a finger around it’s base as the music fades out, leaving a silence that the San Diego crowd immediately fills with a chant of “YOU’RE NO GOD!” with a fierce barrage of stomps and clamps to fill the rhythm.

Christum Furor: David, make yourself useful and go get me a chair before I break your spine.

The madman from Michigan waits as Zinkus obliges, paying no mind to the continuing chant, although the preliminary stages of a scowl are seen on his visage. David brings the chair to Gunner, and hastily leaves the vicinity. Magnus unfolds it, setting it down in the middle of the ring before taking a seat on it and looking around at his tormentors - still chanting and jeering at him.

Christum Furor: HOW… DARE YOU… DISRESPECT… GOD!!!

The crowd boo’s the statement, while the recipient of their hatred looks on, completely outraged and filled with both consternation and dismay.

Christum Furor: EXODUS...

He says with an indignant tone of voice before stroking his chin, momentarily pondering the weight of the six letters.

Christum Furor: WE are the premier wrestling company in the world. WE are an instant classic, a cult phenomenon!

The fans cheer his words now, showing their E-Pro pride.

Christum Furor: There were those who didn’t think we’d last the first month… didn’t expect us to thrive… and there were even those in-house, causing turmoil behind the scenes, doing everything they could to prevent us from reaching prosperity… YET… WE ARE STILL HERE.

The audience cheers louder, although some quiet down and raise an eyebrow as they wonder where the villain is heading with his tirade.

Christum Furor: WE may not be the most glamorous, or have the most money… other companies may have a better primetime slot… a family friendly rating… HELL… they might be a great wrestling show… But I tell you right now.. right here and now… that NOBODY does it better than we do. NOBODY!

More praise is poured out for his words, the sound of cheering coming a bit foreign to the ears of the self-proclaimed messiah of madness.

Christum Furor: And it was I… it was CHRISTUM FUROR… who created THIS… this company from absolutely NOTHING! I’m the reason you’re here tonight, filling those seats and screaming and yelling out your opinions as if they matter. I’m the one who has given you a meaning for existence. I am the one who brought in the sponsors… the commerce… I’ve done it all! I destroyed Omar Wise… brought Fiona Rourke down to my level and showed you that you’re beloved, proclaimed HERO, is not as HEROIC as she seems. I’m the one that has MAIN EVENTED PAY PER VIEW AFTER PAY PER VIEW! I’ve been the biggest draw in this company since the moment I stepped foot in here and blasted that self-righteous, false messiah in the head with a goddamn chair! I AM THE GOD AND MONSTER OF EXODUS WRESTLING!

Standing up from his seat, Christum Furor finally begins to work around to his point with the crowd’s attention now captured. However before he can continue, a “YOU’RE NO GOD” chant breaks out once again, further angering him.

Christum Furor: How… dare… YOU! Insolent fools! You will RESPECT me. You will KNEEL before me! I am your RULER!

Gunner pauses for dramatic effect as he stares out into the crowd, his face a menagerie of rage and shock.

Christum Furor: No… no… you will not take this from me. I have nothing. No Honor Cup… it’s all worthless to me. I am GOD. I am not your entertainer, parading myself and jumping through hoops to tickle your fancy. I NEVER have been! I don’t care for your tournaments, your pageantry! I only want the World Championship so that I can toss it into the San Diego Bay… the crown sits on heads unworthy. I deserve to be coronated! To be worshipped! The audacity of you MAGGOTS… to disrespect ME? I AM NOT HUMAN! I AM A GOD! YOU WILL KNEEL!

Gunner, despite stroking his ego in the moment, shows absolutely no sign of joy or exuberance, his expression is grave and serious. His rage boils inside of him, and he fights to contain it. The look of disgust on his face is unmistakable.

Christum Furor: This is the HUMAN CONDITION! It is your natural state! It is the destiny of homo-sapiens, you’re fundamental, biological, anatomical need for subjugation. Free will is a delusion of grandeur. It’s beautiful lure diminishes your life’s meaning in a mad scramble for joy and understanding. But understand THIS! You were created for the sole purpose of being ruled! You were made to submit to a higher power! The reason you exist, is to kneel before GOD! NOW BOW TO ME LIKE THE SLAVES THAT YOU ARE!

The crowd has had enough, booing and jeering until their faces turn purple.

Christum Furor: I am CHRISTUM FUROR! With the utmost, humble stance… I am HOMO-SUPERIOR! I am the GOD of EXODUS WRESTLING! I have put this company on the map with an intensity and conviction that is UNMATCHED and UNRIVALED! My resume speaks for itself! Despite anything and everything that has been thrown at me… despite the corruption of your political figureheads… despite those who have conspired against me to prevent me from achieving my manifest destiny… I remain! I have given everything to this company as it’s ONE TRUE HERO! I have shown you the truth, and you refused it. I have given my blood, and you’ve belittled me! I have vanquished those who have DECEIVED AND THREATENED MY COMPANY… and you STILL DO NOT WORSHIP ME! In fact, you take me for some sort of joke! THE DISRESPECT! HOW DARE YOU!? I AM NOT A JOKE!

Gunner screams at the masses who continue to taunt and torment him.

“YOU’RE NO GOD!”

*CLAP, CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

“YOU’RE NO GOD!”

*CLAP, CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

“YOU’RE NO GOD!”

*CLAP, CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

Gunner runs a hand through his hair whilst spinning around in a circle, the chants seemingly driving him utterly mad. Suddenly, he pivots on his heels and grabs the chair he was just seated upon, swinging it wildly and sending it across the ring. The furniture clangs upon one of the turnbuckles before sprawling on the canvas.

Christum Furor: People say that I human… that I am no GOD! YOU ARE WRONG! YOU ARE ORDINARY HUMAN BEINGS. YOU ARE ANTS. YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT! YOU WILL ALL RECOGNIZE ME AS GOD!

Magnus continues his overflowing temperament, with his face completely red with frustration. His teeth clenched, now seething, he brings the microphone up to his lips, taking a great big breath as he does so.

Christum Furor: I AM YOUR GOD! YOU PEOPLE, SITTING ON YOUR ASSES, DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING- I AM YOUR GOD! YOU INCOMPETENT MAGGOTS WHO CRITICIZE EVERY LITTLE THING THAT I DO- YOU ARE BENEATH ME! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU PACKING THIS CESS-PIT, SPENDING YOUR HARD EARNED MONEY FROM YOUR DEAD END JOBS- YOU ARE BENEATH ME! THIS ENTIRE COMPANY… AND EVERY FALSE IDOL… SYCOPHANT AND SALLIE MAE THAT CALLS IT THEIR HOME- YOU ARE ALL BENEATH ME!

The maniacal Michigander spits violently at the canvas, sneering. He steps forward and leans over the ropes, looking out to the entryway as he addresses the lockeroom.

Christum Furor: FIONA- BENEATH ME! COLLINS - BENEATH ME! MCHANNON- BENEATH ME! LASIEWICZ- BENEATH ME! TALFOURD- BENEATH ME! LENTON- BENEATH ME! WULF- BENEATH ME! RILEY- BENEATH ME! JONES- BENEATH ME! COCHRANE- BENEATH ME! PARK… GAMBINO… CANNON… CHANDLER… DRAKE… MATTHEWS… UCHIKAWA… ALMASY… AND YOU CHRISTOPHER F*KING STRIKE- YOU ARE ALL BENEATH ME! I AM THE REASON YOU CASH A CHECK EVERY TWO WEEKS! THE REASON YOU LACE YOUR BOOTS! THE REASON YOU EXIST! I CREATED EXODUS! I CREATED THIS PLATFORM, GIVING YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO PROVE YOURSELVES TO BE EXCEPTIONAL! BUT YOU ARE NOT! YOU ARE ORDINARY… YOU ARE FLAWED… YOU ARE IMPERFECT… YOU ARE BENEATH ME! AND I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING THAT I WILL MAKE YOU ALL KNEEL BEFORE CHRISTUM FUROR!

Magnus finally backs from the ropes, able to catch himself. He heaves a few breaths to slow his pace and recompose himself as he turns from the camera in a quiet moment. He runs a hand through his hair as he drops his eyes to the canvas. Once his tone settles, he turns back to face the world.

Christum Furor: Tonight, Strike, I will give you something to fear. I will make an example out of you. I will-

Before he can finish his spiel, the “YOU’RE NO GOD” chants rise up again, angering him further, sending him over the edge. Gunner abruptly drops his microphone, not uttering another word, simply pacing around the ring and awaiting his opponent.

Normal Match
MAGNUS GUNNER VS. CHRIS STRIKE

The house lights in the arena go out completely, thunder and rain can be heard from a distance, all while the image of a large mountain complete with a temple atop the peak is seen on the LCD screen while the beginning of “March of Mephisto” by Kamelot blares out of the PA system. The shot zooms into the temple, as the crowd begins to clap along with the beat of the song, watching as a man rises from the throne inside of the temple and makes his way down the steps. Once he nears the camera, he looks up at the sky and makes his way over towards a pool of water. The man looks down into the water, and once he does…a shot of lightning hits the water! As the lightning hits the water in the video, streams of smoke shoot up from the ramp way area and high above, covering the entrance ramp as the song kicks into full motion, the fans clapping along with the song in full while white, yellow and blue spotlights swirl all across the arena.

Chris Strike emerges from the curtains and steps out into the limelight, drawing a loud reaction from the faithful as he stops in front of the entrance ramp and slowly raises his right arm up, hand open. Strike is showered by gold, white and black streamers and smoke appearing from each side of the ramp before he makes his way down, having the occasional fans reaching out towards him from the rail, all while keeping his eyes solely focused on the ring. Chris then makes his way up the ring stairs, using the steel pole for support, putting his right foot over the middle rope and as he is about to get inside, Strike suddenly turns around and finds himself with both elbows locked around the top rope, his entire upper body exposed to the crowd’s sight. Strike just gives the fans a sly smirk and a nod as flashes of light go off, before going under the middle rope and into the ring. He looks around at the crowd and walks up to the nearest corner, leaning against the ropes and disposing of his tactical vest and t-shirt while stretching his arms out as “March of Mephisto” fades…

The commentators are silent throughout the entrances, a lot of intensity shown in the eyes of both men. No one in the arena hears the bell, except Gunner and Strike. Without any hesitation, Gunner reaches back and lands the first blow to Strike. Chris Strike makes no look of surprise or pain, and lashes out with a huge right of his own.

Dick Morosi: Here we go!

Seth Ericson: It's Strike... It's Gunner... Strike... Gunner!

Christum Furor finally blocks a blow from Strike and grabs the back of Chris Strike's head in the same motion. He leans back for a huge shot, but Strike stops the momentum with a stiff kick to the gut. Gunner doesn't quite double over, but takes another shot soon after when another stiff kick from Strike connects. Strike wastes no time landing another kick, sending the bigger man backwards. A Shotei has Gunner in the corner! The crowd starts to get behind Strike. Chris Strike grabs the arm of Magnus and goes for the whip. Strike yanks hard, pulling Gunner toward himself. Strike misses the whip and takes a huge short clothesline from the Gunner. Strike is quick to recover, but Magnus never releases the arm and takes the Number One Contender down again with a powerful clothesline. Chris stands again, still held by Gunner. Magnus whips Strike hard into the opposite corner. The turnbuckles don't give a bit as Strike crashes into the corner at an unbelievable speed! He clutches his back and falls forward hard.

Dick Morosi: Gunner! You're a monster!

Seth Ericson: AND A GOD!

Gunner turns around and begins removing the turnbuckle cover to boos from the RIMAC crowd. Strike slowly regains his vertical base. He eyes up Gunner and charges, but Christum moves and with a push sends Strike hard into the exposed turnbuckle. Strike discovers the exposed steel the hard way and falls backwards to the mat, clutching his face. Gunner makes no expression, and emotionlessly lifts Strike off the mat and into the air and onto his shoulders.

Dick Morosi: Strike is going to be murdered out there!

Seth Ericson: G & M style!

Gunner holds Strike up and walks towards the exposed turnbuckle. Strike slides down behind Gunner and slams him against the corner. The exposed turnbuckle collides with the chest of Gunner, who spits into the 1st row. With a cry of rage, Strike lifts the back-stepping monster onto his shoulders, and drops him face first onto the turnbuckle!

Dick Morosi: He has the bigger man up!

Seth Ericson: That's not fair!

Gunner bounces off, staying on his feet. Strike swings hard and takes a shot at Gunner! Magnus stumbles backwards a step, but stays standing. Strike doesn't look surprised, and takes a hard swing of his foot to the right leg of Gunner, who stumbles a step from the impact. Strike takes another hard swing to the other leg, then another aimed swing to the right leg again. Gunner falls to one knee, still in a daze. Strike sprints to the ropes and comes off with a running calf kick… but Gunner rolls out of the way, sending the Brazilian flying over the top rope. Strike hits the floor hard and rolls to the edge of the ramp. Gunner smiles a cold sadistic smile as he exits the ring, stalking Strike who is climbing up the ramp way. He charges Strike but he has way too much time to think and as Gunner reaches Strike…

Dick Morosi: NO!

Seth Ericson: My God!

Dick Morosi: That's my line!

Strike catches Gunner mid-run with a release Northern Lights Suplex, sends Gunner flying off the stage to the floor below. The referee has his head in his hands, unsure if he should let this continue but decides to when he sees Gunner roll with the impact and stop up against barricade, showing signs of life. Strike looks down at the damage he's done like a man possessed, the crowd exploding in cheers.

Dick Morosi: The RIMAC is supporting this mayhem!

Seth Ericson: I don't support it!"

Gunner looks determined to prove it he is still in this as he struggles to get to his feet. Strike climbs down to the floor where Gunner is using the barricade for balance. Strike finds his path and charges and Gunner ducks! Magnus takes the opportunity to slide behind Strike and slam him hard into the steel. The camera picks up a resounding 'dong' from the metal. Strike stumbles back into the waiting arms of Gunner. He hooks Strike for an Impaler DDT, driving him into the concrete!

Dick Morosi: He's maiming him!

Seth Ericson: That has to be it. The Magnus Driver!

Gunner looks down at his fallen opponent. Breathing heavily, his anger grows as he looks for another instrument of destruction. When his anger turns into a malicious grin, it appears he has found it. He lifts Strike, who is now busted open, and walks him towards two techs and what seems to be a midget wearing a turban at a table.

Seth Ericson: Wait… Isn’t that…? RUN BLOWJOB RUN!

They scatter and we see the music controls. Gunner pays no mind to the equipment and tosses Strike onto the boards and computers. “Through the Fire” by Day of Fire starts to play. Some fans cheer for the moment, but it quickly fades with the music and Strike moves slightly in agony.

Dick Morosi: That's expensive equipment!

Seth Ericson: Not for long.

Gunner climbs back up the ramp, staring down at the slightly moving Strike. “Last Man Standing” by People In Planes hits the speakers to a huge cheer from the RIMAC faithful. Strike pauses, looking at the entrance, but shakes his head and turns away. Gunner dives off the stage. Cameras flash and the fans explode as Christum Furor crashes down through the table with a suicidal splash, setting off multiple people's pyrotechnics and the smoke machine goes into overdrive, showering the area in white mist! The sounds of “Black Betty” by Spiderbait are heard momentarily, as the crowd sings along before all the music is cut off to several boos from the crowd.

Dick Morosi: Sounds like the techs fixed the sound system."

Seth Ericson: Or they destroyed it completely."

Having landed with no real grace, Gunner rolls over onto his back. Strike looks out cold. Both men lay on the ground for a few moments. The fans begin cheering for Strike.

Dick Morosi: These fans want Strike to get up first!

Seth Ericson: Who cares? I want Magnus Gunner to get up first. Who's more important... me or the fans?"

The EXODUS fans boo Christum Furor as he stumbles through the crowd towards where the ring is. Strike finally gives chase. Fans slap him on the back on the way. Magnus makes it to the barricade behind Dick and Seth's announce table. Strike runs up at half pace and slams into Gunner. The impact turns him around. Strike smashes his forearm into the exterior of Gunner. Magnus is dazed as Strike walks him up onto a front row chair.

Dick Morosi: What are they doing right behind us!?

Seth Ericson: Dick...

Dick Morosi: Yeah?

Seth Ericson: MOVE DICK, MOVE!

The announcers scatter as Strike climbs the barricade. He barely gets Magnus over with an Exploder Suplex through the announcers table. The referee hurries over to check on them. Strike using the barricade to aid him, then climbs to his feet and wanders away, quiet unsure where he is.

Dick Morosi: Where's Strike going now?

Seth Ericson: Come back and fix my table!"

Strike rolls Gunner into the ring. Strike climbs in behind him. Magnus grabs the ropes and tries to stand as Strike raises his hand to the crowd. The crowd cheers again, rallying behind the Brazilian. Strike is stalking Gunner now, waiting for him to get up. Strike readies his strike(?). But Gunner ducks it, grabbing Strike in a sleeper hold!

Dick Morosi: Oh My GOD! A wrestling move!

Seth Ericson: And now he turns it into Lithium!

It doesn't take long for Strike to fade away, even with the crowd willing him to get up. The referee lifts the hand of Strike... and it drops. The referee calls for ONE! He lifts the hand of Strike again, as Gunner shakes him violently. He drops the hand, and it falls. The referee calls for TWO! The referee reaches for Strike’s hand… But Strike rolls through with a pin!

ONE…

TWO…

No! A kickout. Both men are up… Double Knee Facebreaker!

Dick Morosi: Narukami!

Seth Ericson: It's Over! It's Over!"

Strike goes vertical and falls over near one corner. But Strike can’t capitalise, he can barely move! He shakes the cobwebs off and desperately crawls over. In a final effort, he turns Gunner over and falls on top of him. The referee drops and counts.....

ONE…

Gunner kicks a leg a little...

TWO…

Magnus squirms and kicks a leg again....

THREE...!

Dick Morosi: It's Over!!

Seth Ericson: YES!!

The referee stops. He pats Strike on the shoulder. The camera focuses on the hand of Christum Furor, firmly gripping the bottom rope. The referee stands and motions for the "no good" to the timekeeper.

Dick Morosi: NO!!

Seth Ericson: YES!!

Strike is shocked, staggering about the ring in disbelief and exhaustion. He grabs Gunner by the hair and yanks him up…

Dick Morosi: BUTTERFLY EFFECT!!

Seth Ericson: WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!!

The referee watches as Magnus nails the move and holds on for the pin. The referee drops and counts.

ONE…

Dick Morosi: ONE!

Seth Ericson: ONE!

TWO…

Dick Morosi: TWO!

Seth Ericson: TWO!

...............

...........

Seth Ericson: This is taking a while…

……………….

……….

….

..

.

THREE!!!

Dick Morosi: THREE!!

Seth Ericson: HE DID IT? Jesus H….!

"The Quiet Place" by In Flames blasts out as both men are just laid out. The fans cannot believe what they have just witnessed, and the referee can’t believe he allowed it to happen! We cut to commercial as Gunner walks back up the ramp, smirking as he realizes the ramifications of his victory.

WINNER: MAGNUS GUNNER

The camera cuts backstage to the locker room of Gabriel Gambino. He is sat on a bench in front of his locker still in his wrestling attire from earlier, leaning his head into his hands which sit upon his knees. A suitcase lies on its side, clothes spilling out, appearing to have been thrown against the wall. A knock at the door awakens Gabe from his trance.

Gabriel Gambino: Come in…

His voice trails off, the anger evident. The door opens and in walks Katherine Grayson. She makes her way over to Gabe and plops down on the bench next to him, putting her arm around his bare back and resting her head on his shoulder.

Katherine Grayson: You alright mate?

Gabriel Gambino: Far from it, Kat. A draw? How the hell am I supposed to move on in this tournament with a draw? I blew it.

Katherine Grayson: It was only one match, mate, don’t worry. You’re still plenty alive in this tournament, and you’re still my pick to win the whole thing. Don’t let it get you down. Just go out next week and win.

Gabriel Gambino: If only it were that easy. Now I’m really up against it. I really wanted this Kat. I really wanted to win this thing to show the world I’ve still got it. Plus a win tonight would’ve at least given me a bit of breathing room. Now I’m a win behind with matches against both Lasie and Chandler. Dammit!

Katherine Grayson: Speaking of… Have you talked to Chandler yet about next show?

Gabriel Gambino: There’s nothing to speak of… We both know what this is about… Just business, nothing personal. I’m going to go out there with every intention of winning the match. He’s going to do the same. Should he win, I’ll pat him on the back and congratulate him. Should I win, I expect he’ll do the same. The kid’s cocky, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. He knows the importance of the match, especially if he loses to Las later on tonight. Plus he knows he’s got a bit of revenge coming his way from my loss to him last year. Maybe that’ll be the little bit of extra motivation I need to get back on track in the tournament.

Katherine Grayson: Aye that’s the spirit mate! As long as this doesn’t affect what you both have going on with the Godfathers, that’s all that matters. And as long as he’s okay with losing to.

A sly smile crosses Kat’s face as she rubs the back of Gabe’s head.

Katherine Grayson: Have you talked to Jon at all since what happened?

Gabriel Gambino: I have. He seems to be in good spirits, all things considered. We spent a good chunk of time brainstorming ways to get that damned cast off his hand. He kept changing the subject when I asked him how he’d handle that mook Matthews, though.

Katherine Grayson: What do you think he’ll do?

Gabriel Gambino: I honestly don’t know…

Gambino shrugs his shoulders and sighs.

Gabriel Gambino: But he’d better finish the job, because I’ll tell you what… He won’t like what’ll happen if we have to get involved.

Katherine Grayson: Aye. Give him some time, but I agree… Action needs to be taken. Now why don’t you take that smelly rear of yours to the shower so we can get out of here.

Gabe chuckles as he stands up.

Gabriel Gambino: I want to catch a bit of Lasie and Chandler’s match before we go. Need to see what I’m up against in two weeks. Then I promise, we’re gone back to LA.

Kat rolls her eyes, knowing full well Gabe will be consumed with his preparation for his match against Chandler Scott in two weeks. The scene fades as we go back to the broadcast booth.

Dick Morosi: The Godfathers of Wrestling collide in two weeks when Gabriel Gambino meets Chandler Scott!

Seth Ericson: There's a good chance Chandler could be in the prime position going into that match in two weeks, because he's got a shot at winning his first EXODUS Pro Main Event!

Dick Morosi: All too true. It's Chandler Scott vs. Andreas Lasiewicz in our main event...next!

HONOR CUP "D" BLOCK MATCH
CHANDLER SCOTT vs. ANDREAS LASIEWICZ

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentleman, the following contest is your EXPRO Main Event! It is an Honor Cup Block D Match and is scheduled for one fall!

The fans erupt into cheers, knowing that they’re about to be treated to a high octane, highly competitive contest between two members of the “Godfathers of Wrestling.”

Dick Morosi: I’ve been waiting for this match since it was announced two weeks ago. Interim Director Christian Kane has certainly put together a fine show, culminating with this PPV quality Main Event!

Seth Ericson: You’re just trying to suck up to Kane to get yourself a pay raise. It won’t work Dick! Have some dignity.

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.

David Zinkus: Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Madison Scott, he comes to us by way of Hayannis Port, Massachusetts, and stands at six feet, one inches, and weighs in tonight at two hundred and fifty-five pounds… this is CHANDLER SCOTT!

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 while the crowd continues to boo.

Dick Morosi: Scott has a lot to prove, not just to himself, or to EXODUS, but to his stablemates. He’s taking on his brethren. I don’t expect him to lie down for Lasie.

Seth Ericson: Would you? If he beats Andreas tonight, he’s immediately jumping the pecking order here in E-PRO. And who knows? He might even become the NEW leader of the Godfathers of Wrestling!

The lights in the arena begin to dim slightly as a faint yet beautiful piano piece begins to play out in the background. Several spotlights circle around the arena as the crowd looks around in awe. Swirling violins begin to play out a haunting rhythm as smoke emits from the entrance way. Barbarian Horns fire up along with a thunderous dub step beat and distorted guitars as the Instrumental Core Remix of Hans Zimmer’s ‘Time’ fully kicks in. A hooded silhouette appears in the thick grey smog; his head is bowed as he methodically makes his way to the ring. The shrouded figure of Andreas Lasiewicz steps out from the back, seemingly smoking a cigarette; his head lolled to one side as he surveys the crowd with a police baton resting on his shoulder. He pauses then points his baton towards the ring as he slowly paces there.

David Zinkus: And his opponent, from Krakow, Poland, now residing in Boston, Massachusetts, he stands at six feet, three inches tall, and weighs in tonight at two hundred fifty-seven pounds! He is “The Morning Star”, “The Polish Spirit”... ANDREAS LASIEWICZ!

As he reaches the ring, he stops to stare out into the crowd, he flips back his hood and lets out a short, cruel laugh as he rolls into the ring and removes his jacket. He climbs one of the turnbuckles, searching out into the crowd with a Cheshire Cat grin across his face. He hops down as he spins the baton around in his left hand for a moment before resting back against the turnbuckle, staring up into the heavens as if he is looking for answers.

Dick Morosi: Let’s get the tale of the tape here. Well, of course Lasie is the more experienced and decorated of the two. He’s a seasoned veteran, and knows every trick in the book.

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but Chandler has the youth, the drive, and the conviction to get it done tonight. And with the Mrs. Scott at ringside, you know he’s going to put on a superstar performance.

As “Time” fades out, the commentators get a drink of water, as the two competitors walk toward each other. The two opponents begin to stand off, Andreas looking slightly downward at his smaller foe and smirking confidently. Another round of flashbulbs begin just before Chandler shoves Lasie. The Morning Star is forced to step back, then looks to the side and nods. Scott does the same, relaxing and putting his hands on his hips, foolishly letting his guard down. This allows the living legend, Andreas Lasiewicz to throw a huge chop, his palm slicing across the pectoral of the brash, young Bostonian with a resounding slapping sound. The bell rings as Chandler sucks wind in from the painful attack.

Seth Ericson: And here we go!

The chimes of the ring bell echo into nothingness as Chandler staggers back, much to the delight of this San Diego crowd. The Morning Star follows up with another knife-edge chop, which forces Scott to back-pedal into the corner. Las leaves little breathing room or space between the two, immediately pursuing his adversary. Ducking his body, Andreas pushes his shoulders into Chandler’s gut over and over again, driving as much air as possible out of the Bostonian’s lungs. Chandler’s cheeks puff as he tries to suck in air, but as soon as he does, it is expelled right back out of his lungs courtesy of another shoulder thrust. Finally adhering to the pleas of referee Brian Lowery, the aggressive Lasiewicz retreats. Bad move. He steps back, only for Chandler to charge at him, catching him off guard with a football like tackle, forcing the veteran to the canvas. Scott quickly mounts his adversary, landing blow after blow across the forehead and jaw of the Polish Spirit.

Seth Ericson: Andreas Lasiewicz better realize he’s in for for a fight. An amatuer mistake like that could prove costly. See Dick, even veteran’s make errors.

Dick Morosi: That wasn’t a mistake. I’m sure Lasie was trying to see how aggressive and opportunistic Chandler would be tonight. And I think he got his answer. Scott will do whatever he can to get this win tonight!

Chandler ceases fire, and out of sportsmanship - or showboating, allows Lasie time to regain his bearings. Andreas’ eyes soon lock onto those of his Boston born opponent, and the two circle the ring, with the early one-upmanship contest out of the way. They lock up in a collar and elbow tie up, and Chandler, though giving up the height advantage for a lower focus of balance, is able to back his fellow Godfather into the ropes. Upon contact, Chandler breaks up the tie and grasps his stablemate by the arm before whipping him across the ring. Andreas springs across the squared circle and ricochets off the ropes. Upon rebounding, he ducks underneath Chandler’s Clothesline attempt and hits the ropes once again. This time, he strafes to the once-again, impeding Scott, grasping him tightly around the waist. He shifts his momentum and weight behind him in an attempt to German Suplex his opponent, grasping him tightly around the torso - yet is unsuccessful due to a late locking of the ankles performed by the defensive Chandler. Scott slides a hand down the front of his stomach, prying under the locked hands of his attacker, able to jar loose his own body and follows suit with the rest of his frame. He takes Las by the arm and twists it with a standing armbar, same as worked over by Flair’s and Hogan’s from continent-to-continent, and pulls at the compromised position of The Morning Star’s appendage. In a continued chain of reversals, Lasie rolls forward, and thus untwists his arm, returning to a stand.

Two two competitors lift their hands, slowly moving them closer to each other’s before locking down and engaging in a test of strength and balance. Chandler, gains an early advantage, slowly pushing Lasiewicz to a point where the Heavyweight is bent backwards. Seeing the strain on Andreas’ face brings a certain ecstasy to Chandler Scott; seeing the veteran in anguish is heart warming to him, as he’s a man with a lot to prove tonight. The Bostonian lets up, allowing Lasie to surge up and stand straight once more. This simply acts as an opening for the arrogant Chandler to throw a knee into his foe’s midsection, then lifts him upside down in a Front Facelock, holding him there for a few seconds before falling back. Both men come pancaking to the canvas courtesy of a stalling Vertical Suplex that plants Lasie back-first on the canvas with a thud. The persistent Chandler immediately rolls onto Andreas and hooks a leg to cover him. Lowery moves into position and begins counting.

”ONE”
“TWO”

Lasiewicz throws a shoulder up. Scott immediately clenches a fist around the Heavyweight’s long hair and pulls him into a sitting position, then pops and throws a quick shin kick at Lasie’s upperback. The impact of the strike throws Lasie’s upper body forward before The Polish Spirit recoils back onto the mat.

Dick Morosi: He’s confident he’ll win tonight, definitely. Better not get too cocky though!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, hurry up and finish him Chandler. The less time you take to pin him, the more time you have to celebrate with your lovely lady. Hey, I know a good club in town, Solstice I think. You think they’d be down to boogey?

Dick Morosi: I doubt that, highly.

Lasie’s head is grabbed again, as Scott reaches down to scoop him up. Andreas breaks free from Scott’s clutches, scoring with a knife-edge chop, and then a forearm to the jaw, before wrapping one arm around Chandler’s waist and grabbing the back of his nearest leg with his free arm. The Morning Star lifts his opponent’s entire frame onto his shoulders before falling backwards - the Teardrop Suplex deposits Chandler on the mat. Andreas quickly takes a hold of Scott’s head, and pushes his body backwards, rolling him over to end up on top of the blue-chipper. With a headlock applied, Andreas wraps his legs around one of Chandler’s to hook it, now having Scott pinned to the mat inventively. Brian Lowery notices this and drops down, beginning to count.

”ONE”
“TWO”

Chandler manages to shove his foe off of him. Before Andreas can do anymore harm, Chandler rolls out of the ring. Soaking in the cheers from the crowd, Lasiewicz smirks while he scans the outside of the ring area for the actions of not only his unpredictable opponent, but of his conniving manager. Madison makes her way toward Chandler to check on her man, making sure that no damage sustained was severe. A few seconds pass, and Lowery does what any good official would do in this predicament.

“ONE!”

“I’M MAKING SURE HE ISN’T HURT YOU ASSHOLE!”

The man in stripes stays professional in face of the insult directed at him.

“TWO”

“GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE I’M TRYING TO MAKE SURE HE’S NOT CONCUSSED!”

Chandler brinks rapidly, appearing to be going through concussion tests, the pain being aggravating but not unbearable. Scott takes two steps toward the ring before rolling in, immediately seeing a charge from Andreas Lasiewicz. As he draws nearer with a knee, Chandler instinctively pivots three hundred-sixty degrees on his heels before leaping up to slap his feet into Lasie’s temple, scoring with a perfectly executed Dropkick.

With a dazed Lasie’s drool on the canvas, Chandler runs to the ropes and bounces off. On his return trip, he jumps, and bends his knee to land it across the back of the former tag team champion’s head. The Polish Spirit flinches and rolls away while Scott climbs to his feet. The merciless Bostonian simply steps forward and drops his knees onto Lasie’s head again, the only difference being that his victim was on his back this time. Madison positions herself just outside of the ring, slapping the apron with both hands to cheer on her man. Chandler glances at Madison, then rolls Andreas onto his back and latches his hand onto the Heayweight’s throat. Brian Lowery steps in and orders that Scott release the choke, then begins counting.

”ONE!”
“TWO!”
“THREE!”
“FOUR!”

Chandler lets go amidst a chorus of boos, then slowly gets up while receiving an earful from the senior official. Scott sticks his foot into Lasie’s ribs and slowly shoves him out of the ring where the Polishian lands with a dull thump on the floor. The verbal abuse from Brian Lowery continues to bother Chandler, allowing Madison to sneak in undetected with a foot on Lasie’s throat. More booing follows as Scott begins pleading his case in the form of “I’ve Got Til’ Five!” to buy more time for his girl to perform her underhanded deeds!

Dick Morosi: Oh come on, is this how you want to win it Chandler? Where’s the class?

Seth Ericson: It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught! Hell, that’s why Lowery needs to be doing his job right. What is he being paid for again?

Dick Morosi: I actually agree with you for once. This is ridiculous!

Lowery finally does catch Madison courtesy of his peripheral vision. Madison backs away and lifts her hands innocently while shaking her head, simply eliciting more jeering from the spectators. Scott shoots out of the ring, and slowly rolls a winded, and wounded Lasie back inside before rejoining him. As Scott comes to a stand, Lasie bumrushes the bigger man, jumping up, and lowering his head as the distance between them shrinks. The Morning Star’s shoulder collides with Scott’s chest, knocking him onto his back. A thud briefly precedes Chandler getting up, somewhat dazed, while the most vicious member of the Turks simply rolls over and scrambles to his feet. Scott suddenly charges forward, but Andreas captures him, the technician grabs a hold of Scott’s legs before picking him up and spinning. He explodes to the canvas, throwing his adversary down to the mat with a loud crash, shaking the squared circle.

Chandler stares into the lights on the ceiling, which are the only thing stopping him from slumping into a state of unconsciousness. The shooting pain from the Arn Anderson style Spinebuster sweeps through his body, leaving him in a temporary state of paralysis. A few feet beside him, is Lasie, clutching his head after the pain from the offensive maneuvers he’s endured. Trying his best to ignore this, Andreas crawls over to the motionless Bostonian, and hooks his right leg to initiate the pinfall attempt.

”ONE”
“TWO”

Chandler pushes his shoulder up off the canvas, drawing a loud and frustrated moan from the San Diegans. Andreas sits up, glaring at Brian Lowery as he explains that Scott broke the fall. After nodding in reluctance, he props himself up before pulling Chandler up with him. Scott is unsteady on his feet, only held up by Lasie’s vice like grip. Cocking his fist back, the former tag champion launches it into Scott’s jaw, causing his foe to fall back, only catching himself against the ring ropes. Lasie follows, making sure Chandler is still out of it by landing another stiff strike to the Bostonian’s mug. He then grabs his arm, and slingshots him aros the ring, eagerly awaiting his return with his right arm outstretched. Scott collides with the arm, falling to the mat once again. Las, not wasting any time, decides to stay on the offensive, applying a Sleeperhold to slow the tempo down a notch.

Seth Ericson: Lasie is already gassed! Look at him panting. He can’t keep up with Chandler at this pace, so he’s trying to wear him down.

Dick Morosi: I don’t know about that Seth, all I see is a man in control and wrestling his style of match.

Chandler stretches his arms out, hoping that this will somehow provide him with a much needed adrenaline rush he needs; it’s fair to say that the attempt is fruitless. However he continues to shake his arms to try and make Andreas lose his grip. Once again, the attempt fails. After more shaking and twisting he begins to fade, much to the delight of The Morning Star. A small droplet of saliva cascades from Chandler’s mouth, finally breaking and landing on Lasie’s arm. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and they shut; Chandler Scott seemingly drifts away. Brian Lowery stares at his feeble frame, and is finally brought into action when Lasie screams “HE’S OUT!”. Not wanting to delay further, he lifts Scott’s arm up, letting it drop while the fans shout in unison “ONE!”. After checking for any signs of life, he hoists the limp arm a second time, letting it fall, much to the crowd’s delight. “TWO!”. A wide smile plasters itself upon Lasiewicz’s face as he looks down upon the man who he will have defeated within the next few seconds. Lowery lifts Scott’s arm up for the third and final time, and the fans stand up throughout the arena, hoping to witness the conclusion. Unfortunately, they are left disappointed. To Madison’s delight, Chandler manages to stop his palm from slapping the mat for a third time, much to everyone’s surpise - well of course except Madison.

Chandler’s arm begins to shake, and not long after, the rest of his body follows. The tremors allow him to clamber his way up slowly, and gradually, shocking Lasie with his tenacity. Once he is on his feet, with Andreas leaning on him, he begins to strike him with repeated elbows to the gut. Feeling his grip lessen, Andreas suddenly bridges his back and lifts Chandler off the canvas, driving him straight on top of his head. Chandler rolls onto his back, and Lasie simply turns onto his chest, unable to keep up his level of energy, and capitalize off of the innovative Sleeper Suplex. Both men lay unmoving on the canvas, staring glassy eyed at the ceiling lights. Brian Lowery begins his obligatory ten count, while the multiple camera flashes accompany the chants from the RIMAC arena.

“THIS IS AWE-SOME!”
*CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*
“THIS IS AWE-SOME!”
*CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

Dick Morosi: Listen to this crowd Seth! They’re going nuts. They paid to see two of the best wrestlers in the world battle to get a leg up in the Honor Cup, and that’s what they’re getting. What a Main Event we’re witnessing.

Seth Ericson: I don’t know where Lasie came up with that, but it was freaking impressive. These two are throwing everything but the kitchen sink at each other. This has definitely lived up to the hype!

Chandler positions himself against the south turnbuckle, and looks to the other side of the ring, expecting to see Lasiewicz in the same position. Surprisingly, there is no sign of The Morning Star. Unbeknownst to him, Andreas has rolled out of the ring shortly after delivering the suplex. Scott looks over to Madison, who simply shouts “He’s out there baby, go find him!” Following her advice, Chandler rolls underneath the bottom rope, and staggers along the perimeter of the ring. Finally, he spots his foe perched by the announcer’s table, clutching the small of his back. Setting off at a run, he catches Lasie with a stiff forearm to the side of the head, which sends the GDW Legend to the barely padded mat in a world of pain. Scott looks around the arena, gaining solace from every sad face in the stands, knowing that he is succeeding and closing in on a victory.

Grabbing the vet by the neck, he pulls Lasie to his feet, before shoving him into the ring once more, breaking the ten count. He rolls in after him, being sure to stay on top of him in this stage of the match. Chandler stands above Lasie, who seems to have been somewhat cut from the fall he just took after being clocked in the side of the head. The blood trickles from his hairline as he tries to defend himself from a barrage of stomps. Having stomped a mudhole in his stablemate, Scott turns away, just to rub his dominance in the face of the teeming masses of humanity filling the stands. The amount of negativity coming from the EXODUS faithful brings a smile to Chandler’s face, as the Bostonian simply laughs at their anguish, further inciting the audience.

Dick Morosi: Another “classy” display from Chandler Scott. You’d think being a member of the Godfathers of Wrestling, that he’d be a much more respectable human being.

This little sideshow and display of showboating gives Andreas enough time to recuperate, and he stands behind Scott, who is still oblivious to his foe’s comeback. Eventually, Chandler turns around, and is met with a wicked forearm strike to the jaw, which rocks the Bostonian. Enraged, Lasiewicz hits him again and again, and again; an obvious attempt at knocking some respect into his adversary. Chandler tries to send something back, but Las ducks, then wraps his arms around Chandler’s waist, before falling back and throwing him in one fluid motion, planting the villainous superstar into the canvas with a German Suplex. The momentum sends Scott rolling up to a knee in a daze. Andreas quickly follows up. He hastily underhooks Scott’s arms, before violently popping his hips and lifting him off the canvas. With great force, he falls back, sending Chandler down with the…

Dick Morosi: LUNATIC HIGH! What a Butterfly Suplex! The Morning Star is feeling it! He’s going to that place of his that has seen him turn back EVERY challenger he’s been faced one one one.

Lasie gets up and beats his chest, drawing a huge cheer from the fans in attendance. Looking behind him, he sees Scott trying to somehow make his way up. Andreas knows what he will do next, and so does the crowd. He stalks him, shouting “GET UP CHANDLER!”, expecting to incite his opponent, but it doesn’t!

“HEY LASIE YOU MISS ME?”

Madison disrupts Lasie’s determination, and Lasie doesn’t appreciate it. Muttering something to himself, he chases after her, garnering a cheer from the fans. Madison runs for her life, sliding into the ring, and running across. Andreas follows suit of course, but Chandler is now up and recovered. As Lasie sprints, Chandler runs toward him, and they meet in the center of the ring - with Scott scoring with a Discus Polish Hammer! Chandler falls from the pain he is under, and he looks toward Lasie, knowing that if he can crawl over there, then this will all be over with.

Seth Ericson: HARVARD HAMMER! Chandler Scott is about to score the upset of the century.

Dick Morosi: It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten since this morning, because if it ends like this, I’ll probably puke up my guts!

An exhausted, exasperated Chandler slowly creeps toward his foe, while Madison cheers him on from ringside. Every time that she pounds the mat, it sends a small vibration through the entire squared circle, normally negligible, but feeling like an earthquake to these two battle-worn gladiators. Scott crawls a short distance, then collapses onto his opponent. Totally sure in his mind that he has done all he needs to do, the Bostonian doesn’t even bother to hook a leg, simply resting on Andreas Lasiewicz to perform a pinfall. Brian Lowery drops down and begins his count.

“ONE”
“TWO”

Driven by instinct, the former E-PRO Tag Team Champion throws a shoulder up. The crowd immediately rises to its feet in a shower of cheers. Chandler simply rolls onto his back with eyes wide open in utter disbelief while his irritating, significant other throws a hissy fit on the outside.

Dick Morosi: HE KICKED OUT!

Seth Ericson: I don’t, I don’t freaking believe it!

Dick Morosi: Neither can Madison or Scott! Andreas Lasiewicz refuses to stay down!

Seth Ericson: I give up. What’s it gonna take for one of these guys to stay down?!

Chandler rolls onto his stomach and balls his fists, then slams them into the mat out of pure frustration. His mind jumbles momentarily, then it finally becomes clear, as he focuses on his one and only goal. Filtering his thoughts, Scott mutters only one thing.

“...You should’ve stayed down, Andreas…”

Chandler gets to one knee, then pushes himself to a vertical base and stumbles toward the ropes. With Andreas stirring in the center of the ring, the Bostonian leans against the ropes with one arm dangling out of the ring. Scott stomps the mat and dares Lasiewicz to get up. He blinks frequently in an effort to get the sweat out of his eyes, breathing heavily every time, two mannerisms making him look like he’s gone off the rails. Andreas plays dumb, seeing his opponent waiting for him to get up but pretending to be oblivious to that fact. Madison, on the outside, yells at her man to finish him off. Chandler, nodding, moves out of the corner, and skulks behind his foe, waiting for Andreas to finally get to his feet. Sneering down at Lasiewicz, Scott’s hand makes a quick slashing motion across his throat.

A groggy Lasie slowly gets to his feet while Scott patiently waits. Once he is standing, and turns, Chandler kicks him in the gut, and sets up for the Varsity Blues. Andreas, is having none of it, as he escapes the headscissors, and spins his arm free before coming to an upright position. Scott goes for a desperation Clothesline. Wrong move! Lasie ducks, and once Chandler gives him his back, he squats down before lifting him up in an Argentine Backbreaker Rack. Without a moment more to waste, he tosses him over his shoulder, swinging him around to wrap his arm around the Bostonian’s head, driving him down into the canvas as both men land with a thud amidst a nearly unanimous cheer from the E-PRO crowd.

Dick Morosi: THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE! IT’S OVER! ANDREAS LASIEWICZ CONNECTS WITH THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE!

Seth Ericson: Unbelievable!

As the cheers continue, Lasie simply lies in the position he is in, only having to wait a moment for the referee to begin counting.

“ONE!”
“TWO!”
“THREE!”

WINNER: ANDREAS LASIEWICZ

Lasie thrusts his arms in the air in victory, Chandler looking on in disappointment, as the copyright fades in, and EXODUS fades out.