EXPRO On FX #9

SINGLES MATCH
NATE SOTO vs. ANGRY PETE

The lights dim as the opening guitar of "Cradle to the Grave" by Five Finger Death Punch begins, lights flashing around the stage as Nate Soto slowly starts to make his way out, sleeveless hoodie over his torso. Accompanied by Kameron Chase, a towel draped over his manager's shoulder, Nate keeps his focus as he slowly starts to walk down the ramp.

David Zinkus: "Introducing, being accompanied to the ring by "The Natural Disaster" Kameron Chase... from Dallas, Texas, weighing one hundred eighty-five pounds... Nate! Soto!"

The song continues to play as Soto stops at the end of the ramp, looking up at the ring. Chase stops behind his charge and starts rubbing his shoulders, psyching him up before Soto hops up onto the apron and grabs the rope, flipping his upper body back as the hood falls back as he lets out a huge scream to psych himself up. Stepping into the ring, he starts walking toward a corner with a purpose, climbing up to look out to the crowd as he surveys them for any possible supporters. Stepping down, he instantly starts to look intensely toward the center of it as he waits for the match to begin while removing his hoodie and tossing it to the outside for Chase to catch.

Dick Morosi: Soto is highly touted as the student of Chase. Let's see what's he's got.

Seth Ericson: But he's gotta take on someone that's already on the lips of the fans... Let's hope not literally...



A moment of deafening silence.

Then, music, lights, and a titantron of Angry Pete signal his arrival. The brain dead dynamo stomps out of the curtains to "Black Betty" by Spiderbait in his wrestling shorts and his smiley face t-shirt to thunderous roars from the fans. Throwing rock horns in the air, Angry Pete yells “ICE CREAM COKE FLOAAAAAAAT!”, rolls a cart wheel then sprints banzai charge style to the ring clutching an invisible sword.

David Zinkus: And from Fruit Bat, New Hampshire, weighing in at 230lbs... ANGRYYYYYYYYYY PETEEEEEEEEEEEE!

He slides underneath the bottom rope, charges the nearest turnbuckle and roars at the fans who roar right back at him before taking his position in the corner, blinking rapidly and twitching.

Seth Ericson: This guy lives out where the buses don't run... which I normally like those guys, but he's scary.

Dick Morosi: This guy is more insane than a combined Section B. And those kids are nuts.

The referee gets both men to the middle of the ring. You see Angry Pet slowly moving towards his opponent. Nate Soto doesn't quite know what to make of his opponent, but he slowly approaches him. As he does, you see Pete rambling incoherently at him. As the bell rings, you see Pete hammering down on Soto with a series of punches towards his skull. Nate tries to keep his head out of any danger from this lunatic by pulling up a guard on his face. Pete backs him up to the ropes and he pushes Nate into the ropes with a bit. From here, he throws Nate with an Irish Whip. Soto comes back and nails Pete with a swift kick to the arm!

Seth Ericson: And Soto's going right after the arm...

Dick Morosi: And the student of Chase seems to be picking his spots in this match.

Angry Pete rubs his elbow for a bit, as Nate attacks the elbow further. You see Pete backing off and trying to get away from this kid who's attacking his arm. Nate Soto grabs his hand and carries over the belligerent one over into a simple arm bar. As he wrenches it back, you see Pete groaning a bit trying to ignore the pain. He keeps pulling back on the arm. But the crowd sees Kylar Stark coming out of the back slowly. He just keeps his eyes on the ring towards the action. Neither man in the ring pays attention to him. All Stark does is stands back and watches.

Seth Ericson: And Kylar Stark, who doesn't like me right now, is staring into the ring at the moment at this opening match.

Dick Morosi: I wonder why, Seth. But yes, he's taking a look in that ring at those two men, but who knows why.

You see Soto wrenching back on the arm, when the angry one just pulls his arm forward and throws Soto to the side. You see the unkempt man moving to his feet, rubbing his arm and trying to get some life back into it. As he does, Nate Soto pulls himself back to his feet. He takes the knee out with a kick and rolls him up and over and pulls him into a huge cross arm breaker!

Dick Morosi: And look at that huge arm breaker on Angry Pete...

Seth Ericson: And Pete's trying not to give up on this one.

As the homeless one tries to get out of the arm breaker, Soto pulls himself into position and sinks it in even further. Pete realizes he has no choice and taps out.

David Zinkus: Your winner, by submission... NATE SOTO!

Nate releases the hold, as the referee raises his arm in victory. Kameron Chase comes into the ring and raises the other arm. Nate takes it in, as the crowd doesn't know what to say about Angry Pete on the ground.

WINNER: NATE SOTO


Dick Morosi: What a huge win for Nate Soto in his debut!

Seth Ericson: I gotta give Chase credit here...he found a really good prospect in Nate Soto!

Dick Morosi: Soto may be the next big challenge for whoever holds the San Diego Bay Title soon. Meanwhile, I hear we have something going on backstage! Let's head there!

The camera cuts backstage, where Magnus Gunner is seen navigating past security and arena employees following the opening events of the show. Tom Matheny rushes up to him.

Tom Matheny: Ladies and gentleman welcome to EXPRO on FX!

An audible crash is heard as the camera pans around to see Christum Furor kick the side of a trash canister in obvious anger. He brushes past the cameraman, not acknowledging anyone in sight, until Tom catches up with him.

Tom Matheny: Magnus! Magnus! A word! Magnus-

The leader of Gods & Monsters stops on a dime as Tom gently grabs him around the upper arm, turning around to face him.

Christum Furor: Take your filthy hands off me you parasite!

Gunner swings his arm free, and pushes Tom back. The interviewer recoils somewhat, yet persists, desperate to get his top scoop. Magnus simply turns his back and continues his march.

Tom Matheny: Any thoughts on what just happened?

Christum Furor curls in his lower lip, not making eye contact with the camera or Tom. His pupils remain focused and fiery, despite staring off into space. The Michigander is visibly angry, and very aggravated.

Tom Matheny: Please, something.

Gunner swipes a hand through his hair, intimating signs that he was indeed frustrated, and irate.

Tom Matheny: Come on, Magnus-

Gunner sharply spins back around, taking the interviewer by the collar.

Christum Furor: MY NAME IS CHRISTUM FUROR!

He releases Tom, who frantically adjusts his shirt. Gunner snatches the microphone out of his hands.

Christum Furor: It’s your fault. It’s everybody's fault. I blame you people, you’re the ones responsible for what happened out there. You people don’t understand the grand scheme of things, you’re so unevolved. Your feeble minds cannot grasp what I’ve offered you for… for over an entire year, and THEN some. You vermin hate and boo me, just because I’ve got the mind and the balls to tell you the truth, and of course you reject it. Even you, Zack. You disappoint me. Tonight, much rather than stand with me, you instead allowed yourself to be used as a playing chip in the game of that politician, Jonathan Collins. Congrats. And you people, cheering for Zero McHannon, you’ve gotten yourselfs another two-dimensional robotic prick to spend your hard-earned money on every two weeks. The same old sh*t, the same old song and dance for this entire pitiful demographic that’s either watching this right now, or ordering the iPPV.

Gunner shakes his head in disgust.

Christum Furor: For the past year, you people have been fed lies. You’ve dined on the professional wrestling equivalent of styrofoam. Everything you know is a lie. Your reality is counterfeit, and the world that you know is fictitious. You’ve refused to FOLLOW me, and see ME as the GOD of EXODUS, despite every foundation I’ve created here. You refuse to see me as the REAL World Champion, As a REAL contender. As someone who is worthy and deserving of holding every single piece of gold in this establishment.

The Furor gets closer to the camera, looking straight into it as if he were glaring into the face of each fan, wrestler, and E-Pro employee.

Christum Furor: To every single one of you in the lockeroom… you’re beneath me. You’re insects, vermin, protozoans at the bottom of the damn evolutionary food chain. I hate you. I hate everything that you stand for. I hate how you’ve disrespected me, despite the fact that I have given ALL of you this platform. I created EXODUS. I MADE Fiona Rourke, i'm the one who turned her into a star - with MY words, MY actions. Had it not been for ME, she’d still be the same ordinary girl that she was back in Tennessee, living in Jonathan and Riley’s shadows, screaming and moaning about no one taking her seriously, or giving her an opportunity. I turned her into the Strong Style Seraph, because I made her show you who she really was beneath that mask of self-righteousness. That was the feud of the year, and it brought ALL of you to the dance. I put THIS company on the map!

Gunner clears his throat, as he is consumed with inhospitable rage. It is apparent in all of his words, and in his belligerent tone of voice.

Christum Furor: Yet I am disrespected! How dare you? I’m the reason you all cash a paycheck every two weeks. Had it not been for me, you’d still be in your PDWs, your Frontiers, your FGAs, your Shoot Projects, and all those other irrelevant companies, thinking you’re the best in the world when you’re really nothing more than a big fish in a small, insignificant pond. I am a GOD! I brought you ALL here. Every time I grab a microphone, you stop what you’re doing to pay attention. These fans, from those miscreants in Section B, stretching all the way to those fleas in Section F, or whatever the hell they call themselves - I’m the one that brought them here. I brought in the money, the FX deal, the sponsorships. It was ME, and the fact that you discount that is asinine, and for that I hate every single ionic bond in your pitiful DNAs!

The madman looks directly into the camera, almost cracking the lens in two with his hateful gaze.

Christum Furor: I am tired of being shunned. Tired of being f*cked over. For every second that I am disregarded, my bloodthirst, my sweet, dear desire to end your disgusting lives multiplies by infinity. I’m going to start racking up the bodies. A lot of you are about to join Omar Wise and Kliff Ulysses in the retirement home. This is what you want Jonathan. You tried to poison my pupil, tried to turn him against me just like EVERYONE else. Well fine! If he wants to be a fraud and a sycophant, pretending to be humane when his actions, motivations, and history say OTHERWISE, so be it! If he wants to kiss your feet, let him. I will not waste my time trying to save anyone who’s too afraid to accept himself, and would rather join you and the rest of these masqueraders - NO. No more! Jonathan, I’m going to burn it all down. You want to tear down my house, then I’ll do the same.

Magnus steps away, grabbing a steel chair off a nearby rack, and returns brandishing it over his shoulder.

Christum Furor: From this point forward, you’re either with me, or you’re with Collins. And that makes you an enemy. That means I’m going to dedicate my present to ensure that you have no future. I know I’m going to Hell. I’m making sure to drag as many of you down there with me. You hear that Almasy? Strike, McHannon and the rest of you pitiful bastards, and when I’m done, I hope your remains on this wretched earth are corpse-raped and ravaged. This is no longer about freeing minds from tyranny and corruption. This is now me, declaring strife, and war against the world. This is the beginning of the end of the EXODUS you know. My time is on the horizon. And when the sun sets on your days, the empyrean will turn red. Blood will rain down from a lacerated sky, bleeding its horror, creating my structure, my future, my NEW AGE.

He slams the chair down, putting the legs on the tiles of the RIMAC floor, before staring coldly, and callously into the camera.

Christum Furor: I’m awaiting the hour of reprisal. Your time, it’s slipping away. And when I Main Event Korakuen Hall for the second consecutive year, I will take the EXODUS World Championship, and I shall reign in blood! And there’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it, and you know I’m right, EXODUS. Prepare to bow to me.

Gunner shoves the microphone into Tom’s chest, before continuing on his way and we go to commercial.

We come back from commercial, and a satellite feed brings us to a brightly lit, and well equipped gymnasium. We find the self-proclaimed Brit known as “Mr. EXODUS”, pacing around a practice ring, moving from side to side and throwing his weight into the ring cables that stretch around it. He moves slowly, and gingerly, yet at a deliberate pace, before bringing his exercise to a stop as he maneuvers into the middle of the ring. A bald, muscular American man stands on the outside, along with Quinton Goodrich who looks on. Johnny Cannon walks up to the camera, and ducks through the ropes to grab a bottle of Belvedere from his ring bag. Goodrich shakes his head, not approving of his training method, as alcohol is not a good way to replenish one's electrolytes. He takes a long sip, while sweat drops down his face. He finally steps out through the ropes, and takes a seat on the side of the ring.

Johnny Cannon: Ello EXODUS. You miss me, baby? I know you do, that’s why I haven’t been dicking around, doing diddly-squat since my surgery last month. Rather, I've been living in here. You know, no days off. Guess I’m sort of an eager beaver. When I haven’t been in the gym, I’ve been on twitter. Been seeing all the bloody commotion, and I’ve been using it as motivation. You know, with guys like Gunner, Strike, Lifer, Cochrane, McHannon, and the rest of you blokes who scream, and yell like brutes. My mum used to say, when men act like morons, they should just pull out their Jons, lay them down on the table, measure, and let that be the end of it. Well, it’s not that simple. This is professional wrestling! We all want to be the best. That’s why I’ve been getting fit as a butcher’s dog.

Cannon walks over to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, the one he always uses. Of course, it is his dojo.

Johnny Cannon: Bill, if you don’t mind.

Cannon extends a hand, and Bill White holds the bag in his arms. Johnny takes his first shot, a jab. He snaps his left hand back, before bringing his taped hands to his face. He then throws a right, feeling the rotation in his feet lending power to his white fist. He snaps his hand back to his face, then fires another left, then a right, a left hook, then another right. He jogs in place, shuffles on his feet, then fires another combination: left, left, right, left. He comes back with a spinning back fist, then steps away to look back at the camera.

Johnny Cannon: That felt good right there. Whew. I can feel the burn in this bloody bag of bones of mine. You know my handle, “Mr. EXODUS”. Well, I’m called that for a reason. I’m two thirds the way of the E-PRO Triple Crown, and I’m a pioneer in that ring. Seems a lot of you blokes have forgotten that. I get injured, and suddenly, the British Mamba becomes irrelevant. Happen that’s the law of the land, or so they say. It’s fine, really, I’m happy as Larry. The other day I blew a grand at the Casino, then went into the White Horse Pub and got a happy ending just off my name value. But that’s not important. What is important, is that Johnny Cannon is in the gym right now, honing his skills, reconditioning himself, getting back to top physical shape. Its the #CannonComeback baby.

He goes back to the bag, and fires with another jab, then a lightning quick left, left, right, left combination. Another. And another. He walks over to a bag tethered lightly to the ceiling; the double end bag. He fires a jab. He can feel the pain in his shoulders from the grueling workout. The bag jitters back and forth from the impact. He’s strengthening his skills. He watches closely, extremely focused at the task at hand. He times it perfectly, suddenly throwing a quick right and a brilliant left hook. Boom, boom, he basks in his success as he sees the bag thrash back and forth. He takes a step back, then fires another combination. Sweat covers his face as he backs away and heads back toward the ring.

Johnny Cannon: EXODUS, I’m feeling good. Bill says I’m ahead of schedule. I mean, I’m feeling like the million dollar man out here. And I’ll be buggered if I don’t get back to doing what I do best. I’ve got that itch. I’m spoiling, like any good fighter, any good wrestler. Obsessed even. Been watching the Honor Cup, and it’s made me bloody mad. I’m pissed that I can’t be out there right now, tearing it up with the best wrestlers in the world. Bloody mad that I had to be sidelined with an injury. Bloody mad that I couldn’t carry the banner for EXODUS and help lead us into year two. But I’m just channeling that frustration. So, the point of this, why I’m giving you GBH on the ear’ole, well, it’s to tell you that I’m roughly 50-60% right now. I know, I know, it may not look like it, but, I’m getting there.

Bill is inside waiting for him with pads. Cannon steps through the ropes, and marches into the center of the ring. He gets in his kick-boxing stance, before firing a front kick into the pad. He sizes White up, then fires a shoot kick. Then another. Now a second front kick. He turns around with a Reverse Roundhouse. He stops, looking down at his knee. He places a hand on the large brace covering his surgically repaired left knee, the smiles.

Johnny Cannon: And when I make that comeback, Abby I hope it's to congratulate you for winning the Honor Cup. Do me proud tonight "Park Brawl". Kick the stuffing out of Lasie. Show 'em what the Short Change Heroes are made of. And hey, maybe you can throw me a welcome back party, by teaming with me to take on Trouble for the Tag Team Titles, or whoever the champs may be. Do this tag team thing right this time. But hey, I’m getting ahead of myself now.

Cannon suddenly turns to fire his patented, trademark Roundhouse Kick. He drives Bill back, as the pad covering White’s right hand quakes tremendously. Cannon brings his leg down, and tends to his knee with a grimace, before turning back to the camera. He heads to the ropes, and takes another refreshing sip from his favorite bottle of Vodka before looking into the lens.

Johnny Cannon: All I know is, I’ll be back soon. And when I do, someone’s gonna get their bloody head kicked off! EXODUS, I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Just make sure you’re wearing that sexy lingerie I bought you.

He winks at the camera, and throws up the British two finger salute as the scene fades out back to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: That's good ol' Johnny Cannon for you, irreverent and still talented as hell.

Seth Ericson: Maybe it's about time we start reminding ourselves how good Mr. EXODUS really is. He's one of five people on their way to a Triple Crown. He quietly put together one of the best years in the company, and he's back to finish the job in hopefully just a few weeks!

Dick Morosi: He could have a host of new talent standing in his way this time, especially one of these two! It's Honor Cup action when Blake Jones meets Seymour Almasy...next!

Dick Morosi: We've got Block B action in the Honor Cup coming up next, folks, with two men who seem in very different frames of mind entering the contest.

Seth Ericson: Seymour Almasy is a grateful 1-0 after fending off the challenge of Cthulhu Jones in a match that was much, much closer than Seymour was hoping it would be. His opponent is a bitterly disappointed Blake Jones, who is 0-1 after losing his opener and the San Diego Bay Championship to one Jimmy Riley, who defends that very belt against Cthulhu Jones later on this evening.

Dick Morosi: Blake showed his disappointment to the world on Twitter following that contest. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He's a youngster in this business, and he's hungry for success. A win tonight puts him right back in the hunt in Block B, while a loss eliminates him.

Seth Ericson: By contrast, Seymour Almasy controls his destiny. If he wins this week, and in two weeks times against Jimmy Riley, the block is his. An Almasy loss here throws the block into chaos, and if Cthulhu Jones upsets Jimmy Riley later tonight, all three competitors would be 1-1 going into the final week of block competition.

Dick Morosi: I think we're going to see Blake Jones give it everything tonight. Seymour Almasy is a ten year veteran of this sport, who's come roaring into EXODUS with two wins in a row. A win here for Blake, though, blunts Seymour's momentum and gives Jones that thing he longs for most – another quality win to hang his hat on. Let's go up to David Zinkus – in a little over fifteen minutes, we'll know a lot more about the way Block B will look.

David Zinkus: This contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit, and it is a Block B contest in the Honor Cup! Introducing first at this time!



"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.



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!

David Zinkus: Hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he stands five feet, ten inches tall, and weighs in at one-hundred and eighty-eight pounds! This is THE YOUNG GUN OF EXODUS PRO WRESTLING....BLAKE JONES!

The Young Gun slides in under the bottom rope, and nips up to his feet to a pop from the RIMAC faithful. He shadow kickboxes, stretching out his legs, a serious look on his face as he warms up for the contest at hand.

Dick Morosi: Jones gearing up for this thing, folks, and he looks as serious as I've ever seen him.

Seth Ericson: Blake can certainly keep up with the fast pace that Seymour Almasy is known to prefer. Both men are in peak physical condition, so a fifteen minute bout isn't going to leave either guy gasping for air. This may come down to mistakes. Blake has two inches and about ten pounds. Everything else, though, is damned close.

As Jones glances towards the entry way, let's bring out his opponent, shall we?

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.

HONOR CUP BLOCK B MATCH
BLAKE JONES vs. SEYMOUR ALMASY

The two men meet at center ring, and exchange a brief handshake.

With that bit of sportsmanship out of the way, the official calls for the bell, and we are underway.

DING DING DING!

Seth Ericson: These two guys are almost even in every way that matters – but Seymour's got the huge experience edge, which could well come into play in a bout like this with so much at stake.

The two men circle at the bell, before leaning into a rare collar-and-elbow tieup for the Judge Magister. The superior height of Jones allows him to manuever Seymour backwards, into one of the corners of the ring. The official is there immediately, putting a five count on Blake, and the Young Gun gives a clean break, before backing up to center ring.

Dick Morosi: Feeling out process in the early going. Jones' two inch height advantage is going to give him an edge where leverage is concerned. If I'm Almasy, I want to keep Blake off guard. Use my speed and kicks.

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but those are two of Blake Jones' strengths as well. This contest is a mirror match in a lot of regards – minus, as I mentioned, Almasy's significant experience edge.

Jones calls for the collar and elbow again, but Seymour quickly goes behind Jones, locking in a rear waistlock, and ducking Blake's attempt at a back elbow. Seymour trips Blake, taking him down to the canvas, floating over and locking in the ever-basic front face lock.

Dick Morosi: Almasy not pushing the pace in the early going here. He's trying to control the Young Gun in the opening minutes, but I don't know HOW much work like this you can do in a fifteen minute match.

Seth Ericson: Seymour must not think he can match speed with Blake. He's trying to take some starch out of Jones here. Blake came out all fired up, and this is cooling Jones down by keeping him in the front face lock.

Jones begins to work his way up to his feet, even as Seymour cranks on the neck. Blake lowers his hips, elevating Seymour up and over with a release Northern Lights suplex! Seymour flips ass over teakettle to the canvas, but is up quickly, only to EAT a Blake Jones dropkick to the jaw that gets a nice reaction from the RIMAC faithful and sends Seymour Almasy scurrying to the floor for a moment's respite.

Dick Morosi: Good flurry from Blake, and the veteran's going to buy a little bit of time here.

Seeing Seymour on the floor, Blake hurries over to the ring ropes to follow Almasy out, only for Seymour to grab hold of the ankle, pulling Blake flat to his back, and then tugging Jones out to the arena floor to follow him as the count is on.

ONE!

TWO!

Seth Ericson: Blake got caught coming in. Jones has all the potential in the world, and he's shown it in EXODUS, but the more experienced members of our roster are going to give him trouble. It's just fact – one day, Blake'll be the ones pulling tricks like this on the younger competitors.

Jones looks for a right hand, but Seymour blocks it and scores with a quick knee to the gut. Doubling Blake over, Seymour grabs the front face-lock once more, only to turn it into a beautiful swinging neckbreaker, sending Blake down into the protective mats at ringside!

THREE!

FOUR!

Dick Morosi: Big tide-turner there from Almasy – and as you noted, Seth, it all came from Blake being overzealous, and trying to follow the veteran out to the floor. At the same time, though, Blake Jones likes the same kind of pace Almasy generally does – fast, so it'll be interesting to see if Seymour wants to keep a slower pace, or is willing to get into a high-octane showdown with one of the best junior heavyweights EXODUS can boast.

FIVE!

SIX!

Almasy fires Jones in, and immediately rolls back into the squared circle afterward, breaking the count. Seymour measures the downed Blake Jones carefully, then drops a short legdrop across the chest. Bouncing to his feet quickly, Almasy hits the ropes, and comes off with a somersault senton, landing hard across Blake's chest, and hooking a leg for a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: First nearfall of the match goes to Seymour, and the Judge Magister is indeed starting to pick the pace up early in this contest.

Jones works his way up, and Seymour doesn't fight Blake trying to stand – simply locking on a Muay Thai clinch when Blake is vertical. Using the grip on the taller man, Seymour peppers him with a knee strike to the body, and then a second. Trying to whip Blake's head down into a knee, though, proves less fruitful, as Blake manages to grab hold of Seymour's leg. Using his slight power advantage, Blake powers Seymour back into a corner, and this time, there is no break.

CHOP!

CHOP!

CHOP!

Dick Morosi: LISTEN to those shots! Jones lighting up the chest of the Final Fantasy with three BIG knife-edge chops!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

The impressive sounds echo throughout the RIMAC as Seymour Almasy slumps to the seat of his pants in the corner, a victim of the Jones Combo. Tonight, though, Blake has an extra addendum, quickly moving to the opposite corner, and then charging, leaping to DRILL Seymour in the face with a low-flying front dropkick!

Seth Ericson: With the exception of one possible mistake in the early going, Blake Jones has been on the ball tonight!

Jones grabs hold of Seymour's wrist, dragging him to the center of the ring, before dropping down for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: This has been a damned even match so far.

Seth Ericson: I think that's what we expected, though. Seymour's impressive career win-loss record doesn't come from dominating opponents. I think you can count on one hand the number of times he's gone out and destroyed a foe from the opening bell. He wins by being able to take a LOT of punishment and put together big flurries to put away his opposition. In some ways, he's not a bad blueprint for the future of the Philly Young Gun.

Dick Morosi: Maybe not, but tonight, Blake's not looking to emulate Almasy, he's looking to pin him, one-two-three, and stay alive in the Honor Cup.

Blake “helps” Seymour to his feet, only to light him up with another big roundhouse kick to the chest. Jones backs up for momentum, hitting the ropes and then FLYING at Seymour with a single-legged dropkick, scoring right on the chin, sending Seymour spiralling down to the canvas.

Seth Ericson: SIIIIIICK Kick there from the War Games victor! He's got Seymour in a world of trouble here!

No cover follows, though, as Blake points to the top turnbuckle. Dragging Seymour to center ring, the Young Gun steps out to the ring apron, and quickly ascends to the top.

Dick Morosi: Equalizer, coming up!

Seth Ericson: It's too soon, Blake! Get down from there!

Dick Morosi: He thinks he's got Seymour hurt, and against an athlete like Almasy, sometimes you have to take chances!

Jones flies off the top, flipping head over heels with a picture perfect Shooting Star Press...that promptly runs into a pair of knees from Seymour Almasy that Blake crashes into. Jones bounces off of Almasy, gasping for air and clutching at his ribcage in agony.

Seth Ericson: I called it! Blake went for the Equalizer too soon, and the veteran got both knees up! Jones is in a bad, bad way right now, and just moments earlier he had Seymour in deep trouble!

Seymour works his way back up, even as Jones surges to his knees, still holding his ribs. Taking advantage of a rare similarly sized opponent, Seymour manages to lift Blake up over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Elevating Blake off his shoulders, Seymour falls to his back, raising his knees to impale Blake upon them for the second time in under a minute!

Dick Morosi: Fireman's Carry gutbuster there from the Judge Magister! Seymour showing off some of the breadth of his playbook, and going after the ribs of Jones!

Seth Ericson: And I don't think a lot of the EXODUS diehards here in the RIMAC are fond of it. If you listen, there's some boos starting to creep in.

Dick Morosi: Maybe so – Seymour is a relative newcomer to EXODUS, and Blake's been here a much longer time, and has a pretty sizable fan base to boot. But I'll be clear – I don't begrudge Seymour going after the ribs.

Seth Ericson: Neither do I, but I think these people might.

For Seymour's part, he shrugs off the boos – chalking them up to the pro-Jones fans. With Blake sprawled out on his back, Seymour leaps, driving both knees into Blake Jones' chest one more time, then making the cover.

Dick Morosi: Blake's ribs are gonna be a jigsaw puzzle if Seymour keeps this up!

ONE!

TWO!

TH—KICKOUT BY BLAKE!

Seth Ericson: Jones is still alive, but Seymour's going to grind him into dust if Blake can't keep Almasy off the injured ribs.

Blake begins to back up, crawling towards the safety of the corner. Seymour seems unwilling to give him time to recuperate, charging and leaping to splash Blake in the corner, but the Young Gun moves, and Seymour collides into the turnbuckle, coming up grabbing his shoulder in obvious pain!

Dick Morosi: Blake got out of the way! Seymour shoulder-first into the turnbuckle – and he's grabbing it!

Seth Ericson: That's the same shoulder that Magnus Gunner worked on a month ago! Cthulhu Jones didn't test it two weeks ago, but Seymour certainly seems to be favoring it now – and it may well be a way for Blake Jones to even things up here!

Jones, by no means a submissionist, nonetheless spots the injury. Grabbing Seymour away from the buckle, he quickly bars the injured shoulder's arm, and takes Seymour down with a lightning-quick single arm DDT! As Seymour howls in pain, Blake shoots the half, and goes for the pin!

ONE!


TWO!


THR—NO! KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Blake Jones' path to survival in the Honor Cup may well lie in that shoulder! Can the Young Gun from Philadelphia capitalize on it with his skillset, though?

The Almasy fanbase in the arena seems none too pleased with Blake's strategy, though the pro-Blake elements seem to consider turnabout fair play. Jones looks almost confused for a few moments, before rolling Seymour back to his back, towards the ropes, putting on a Fujiwara armbar!

Seth Ericson: It looks like Blake can! He's got that armbar on! He's cranking on Seymour's shoulder!

Dick Morosi: I don't think he has it hooked good, though! More importantly, Almasy's in the vicinity of the ropes! He just has to stretch his leg out and he's there!

Seymour manages to do so, and the official steps in to force Jones to break. To his credit, Blake does so, and seems to be pondering what to do with this latest turn of events. Seymour clutches at his shoulder, but still begins to work his way back to his feet.

Seth Ericson: I hate to say it, but Blake may be better off going with Plan A, and letting the injured shoulder just hamper Almasy where it can! Blake is better pushing the pace and taking chances.

Dick Morosi: You may be right. If nothing else, it's stopped Seymour from pressing his attack on those injured ribs of Blake's.

As Seymour hits one knee, Blake winds up and kicks Seymour square in the bad shoulder, prompting a grimace from Almasy. He grits his teeth, though, and scores with a front kick of his own, catching Blake right in the ribcage, prompting a pained gasp for air from the Young Gun.

Seth Ericson: Both men trading kicks to the injured regions! We've got educated feet on both sides here!

Blake hits a second big kick, prompting Seymour to switch stances, going southpaw in order to try and hide the bad shoulder. Seymour lashes out with a right-legged front kick, doubling over Blake, and follows with a second placed to the ribs. Seymour butterflies the arms, looking for his Illumina DDT, but Blake twists in the direction of the bad arm, managing to escape!

Dick Morosi: Jones powers out of the Illumina!

Thinking on his feet, Blake leaps into the air, hooking his hands behind Seymour's head, guiding Almasy face first down onto his knees in a modified, standing version of one of his signature finishers!

Seth Ericson: THE JONES EQUATION! Or, a standing version of it, anyway! Seymour ate both of Jones' knees right in the kisser!

Coming up holding the ribs, Blake still manages to throw himself atop Seymour for the cover, cinching one of the legs deep, securing Seymour's other with one of his own as the official slides into position for the count.

Dick Morosi: HUGE win for the Young Gun! Blake's done it!

ONE!







TWO!







THRE—NO! SHOULDER UP AT THE LAST SECOND!

Seth Ericson: Three! Was that three?

Dick Morosi: No! Only two! The referee's holding up two fingers! I thought that was it! Hell, I think the whole front row thought that was it, too!

Seth Ericson: Blake's got to keep his composure here, folks! He has Almasy in a bad way! He can't lose faith! Just another big move or two! Drop bombs until Seymour doesn't get up!

Jones picks up a wobbly, woozy Final Fantasy, who appears on spaghetti-leg street. Blake screams out to the crowd...only for Seymour to suddenly surge forward, and hook Blake in a lightning quick small package!

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: NO! Only two! The veteran almost caught the Young Gun napping!

Jones kicks free, and returns to a vertical base, sweeping out Almasy's legs, and flipping over to hold the bridge with a jackknife cradle!

ONE!



TWO!



NO!

Just as suddenly, Seymour shifts his weight, effectively sunset flipping Jones, and putting the legs over the shoulders for the cover!

ONE!




TWO!





THR-NO!!!

The power advantage of Blake comes into play, as he shifts his weight again, leaning forward as hard as he can with both arms pulling down on Seymour's legs, the pinning predicament looking much like the aftermath of a huracanrana as the official drops to count one more time.

ONE!





TWO!







THREEE~!

Dick Morosi: Blake did it! He got Almasy on the rollup exchange! Huge, HUGE win for the Philadelphia Young Gun!

Almasy manages to worm free – a full second too late, as the official calls for the bell. Blake himself looks at the referee, three fingers held up. The referee nods, grabs Blake's wrist, and raises it high for the world to see.

David Zinkus: Your winner of this match, at a time of eleven minutes, sixteen seconds, and moving to 1-1 in the Honor Cup....BLAKE JONES!

Seth Ericson: Giant victory for Blake Jones, who drops Almasy to 1-1 while going to 1-1 himself, and making this block wide, WIDE open! I mean, there's a very legitimate chance that EVERYONE in the block will be 1-1 going into the last week, which means there's too many permutations for us to go through in our limited time!

For his part, Seymour doesn't protest, but he does shake his head, so very close at so many points to putting himself into the driver's seat for the block. Still, Seymour is on his feet quickly, extending a hand to Blake Jones.

Seth Ericson: You think we're gonna get a handshake here? These guys went AT each other, and things got a little nastier than I think we might have thought going in.

Jones, though, accepts the shake, and the two men embrace in the middle of the ring, before Almasy raises Jones' arm in victory. With that finished, Seymour nods, and takes his leave of the ring, leaving the stage to a clearly very happy Blake.

Dick Morosi: Two class acts there, in the form of Seymour Almasy and Blake Jones, but tonight, it's Blake who comes out with the colossal victory, and keeps himself very much alive in Block B! And now, we'll be right back as we head backstage!

WINNER: BLAKE JONES

The scene cuts to the backstage area where the fans cheer as they see fan favorite and former EXODUS Pro World Champion, Adrien Cochrane. Cochrane, who is scheduled to face off with Jerry Matthews later tonight, approaches an old fashioned wooden door in a free standing frame in the corridor. The top half of the door is frosted glass, bearing the legend "Cthulhu Jones, Private Eye". Uncertain, Adrien peers around the edge of the doorframe. Just the empty corridor lays beyond. Shrugging, Cochrane raises his hand to knock. As soon as Adrien's fist connects with the door on the first knock, Cthulhu Jones's voice welcomes Adrien from the other side of the door.

Cthulhu Jones: Come on in, Mister Cochrane.

Adrien stands frozen for a moment in the shock. He peers around the edge of the door frame, with no-one there. Shaking his head, he opens the door, and finds himself face to face with the Gumshoe of the Apocalypse. Jones stubs a just finished cigarette into the ashtray on his great wooden desk.

Adrien Cochrane: This is impossible... there was nothing here.

Cthulhu Jones: Welcome to my field office. I'm assuming you're here because you have a case for me. Scrap that, I know you do. Nobody ever just pops in to chat.

Adrien Cochrane: Yes, actually. I found your card after...

Cthulhu Jones: I put it there. You looked like you needed a private investigator. Even though your interrogation of Nair Junior was... amusing, I figured I'd at least offer my services.

Adrien Cochrane: So you know why I am here?

Cthulhu Jones: For the most part. Arson case, correct? Wide variety of suspects you think it might have been with different levels of likelihood, highest on the list being our former co-owner? You want to pass this on to someone else you can focus on the wrestling.

Adrien Cochrane: Something like that. You're good, I'll give you that. Whatever your standard fee is, I can pay cash.

Cthulhu Jones: Then we've got ourselves a deal. Send the evidence you have and payment to the office address on the card you found on the address.

Adrien Cochrane: Thank you, so I guess I'll...

Adrien Cochrane blinked, and he was back in the empty corridor as if Jones's office was never there. The business card that once only contained "Cthulhu Jones, Private Eye" has a mailing address underneath the name.

Adrien Cochrane: Well okay then. That was strange. Important thing is, I can put all this stuff in his hands and just focus on my stuff.

We're coming back from commercial, and we're already off to the ring!

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following bout is a singles match in the Honor Cup tournament, and is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first...

The arena goes dark for a second, as the video starts up we hear Devour the Day’s “Good Man” crank up.

I want to be a good man, I want to see God,
I want to be faithful but I know that I’m not,
I want to be a good man, I want to do right,
I don’t wanna be a criminal for the rest of my life

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

Everything that I've done before,
Has brought me back down to my knees,
I’m crying out to you, Lord,
It’s getting harder and harder to see,
If there’s good left in me?,
Is there any good left in..ME!!!

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

David Zinkus: Joining us as a guest from SHOOT Project, fighting out of San Antonio, Texas, and weighing in at 275lbs, he is JAIME ALEXANDRO! And now, his opponent...

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

David Zinkus: From Cincinnati, Ohio, and weighing in at 267lbs... BRETT SANDS!

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

HONOR CUP A BLOCK MATCH
JAIME ALEJANDRO vs. BRETT SANDS

D’Artis Johnson signals for the bell to ring, and both men begin circling each other. Both men quickly grapple up, vying for superiority, only for Alejandro to shove Sands hard back into the turnbuckle.

Dick Morosi: I don’t think Brett is really used to anyone shoving him around like that.

Seth Ericson: He’s just letting Jaime think he’s stronger, that’s all Dick.

Jaime steps back towards the opposite corner, inviting Sands to come back out into the ring with a wry grin. Sands comes back out, and the two circle a little more, before Sands charges into another test of strength, looking like he’s going to get the upper hand, before Alejandro pushes him back with another hard shove, although not quite forcing him into the corner this time.

Dick Morosi: I think Alejandro is stronger than Sands, and Sands can’t stand that. Look at the look of frustration on his face.

Seth Ericson: It’s all an act Dick. Trust me. I got face in my man Brett.

Shaking his head, Sands starts circling again, Jaime matching the pace. The two men move to lock up again, but at the last moment Brett ducks down, driving his shoulder into Jaime’s gut and railroading him into the corner. As soon as he’s got him in the corner, he starts repeatedly ramming that shoulder into Jaime, driving more wind out of him with every single blow. Struggling, Jaime manages to catch Brett off balance as he rears back, pushing him onto his back. Sand rolls through onto his feet though, and charges straight back in, hitting consecutive shoulder strikes again. He quickly mixes into kicks, hitting 3 hard gut kicks in a row to the cornered Alejandro, before hitting him with an Irish Whip towards the opposite corner.

Seth Ericson: And now Sands strikes! I told you Dick.

Jaime counters, pulling Brett into a Bearhug. Sands tries to use the momentum to hit the Belly-to-Belly Suplex, only for Alejandro to block it, catching Brett off guard with a quick headbutt. As he recoils, Jaime charges in, going for a big Clothesline, only for Sands to duck the move, Alejandro colliding with the corner. He follows it up with a couple of midsection kicks, before hitting a Belly-to-Belly Suplex.

Seth Ericson: Now who’s strongest Dick? NOW WHO’S STRONGEST?

Jaime’s spread out on the mat, taken a little by surprise, as Sands springs back to his feet. Sands starts circling him, shouting at him to stand up, which Jaime slowly obliges him in doing. A little out of sorts, Alejandro stands, and faces Sands, only to be taken straight back down with a Sandspear!

Dick Morosi: SANDSPEAR! Brett places himself firmly in control with that massive Spear!

Seth Ericson: Damn straight Dick.

Smiling, Brett slowly gets back to his feet, stalking Jaime, watching as Alejandro slowly, but surely, climbs back to his knees. Sands, cocky smile upon his face, takes Jaime, and takes his head between his legs. Looking at the crowd, he points to the nearby turnbuckle.

Seth Ericson: This is Dick. Jaime’s getting Decapitated.

Brett reaches down, and tries to lift Jaime, only for Alejandro to block. Sands retaliates with a swift knee to Alejandro’s chest, going for the lift straight again. He starts to lift, but Jaime starts kicking his legs, regaining some momentum, forcing Sands to put him down. As soon as his feet hit the mat, Jaime stands, giving a roar as he does so, sending Sands flying over the top rope with a massive Back Body Drop!

Dick Morosi: Brett got overconfident Dick. You’re not putting someone like Alejandro away so quickly.

Sands writhes in pain on the outside, as Jaime catches his breath. Catching sight of his quarry outside the ring, Alejandro follows him, through the second rope. Getting the collar and elbow of Brett, he begins to lift him to his feet, before hitting him with a massive Knee Lift, taking Sands clear off his feet.

Dick Morosi: Look at the lift Alejandro got there Seth.

Seth Ericson: God, if you like Jaime so much why don’t you marry him.

Slowly, Jaime takes Brett by a fistful of hair and a fistful of trunks, pulling him to his feet before sliding him into the ring. Brett slowly crawls into one of the nearby corners as Jaime climbs onto the apron. Seeing his opponent slumped in the corner. The crowd cheers as he looks at them, back to Sands, then back to the crowd. He takes a couple of steps away, before, with a deep breath, leaping to the top rope, and springboarding into Brett with a massive Diving Clothesline!

Dick Morosi: AIR ASSAULT! Massive, massive clothesline delivered to Sands there.

Seth Ericson: Alejandro was outside the ring forever. That should have been a countout. LEARN HOW TO COUNT D’ARTIS!

Jaime doesn’t relent, as he grabs hold of Sands, dragging him up to his feet. Hooking Brett’s arm, he downs him with a massive Hip Toss, sending him crashing back into the mat. Sands rolls through, acting more or less entirely on instinct, ending up in the opposite corner. Jaime doesn’t miss a beat, and charges forth with a massive Running Clothesline, with Sands ducking under it at the last moment, and Alejandro taking the ringpost hard to the chest. Quickly locking up Alejandro from behind, Sands takes him up and over with a massive Belly-to-Back suplex.

Dick Morosi: And that there is why you can never count out any EXODUS competitor. Just as you think they’re out, they come back and surprise you.

Both men are flat on the floor, but Sands senses opportunity, and half leaps onto Jaime, going for the cover.

1!

2!

KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Last minute kickout from Alejandro there, but you’ve got to think it was pure reflex there.

Sighing, Brett gets back to his feet, taking a moment to think whilst Jaime struggles to regain his senses. Sands watches as he slowly gets to a kneeling position, before advancing with hands raised. With a sudden burst of motion, however, Jaime explodes into life with a Crackerjack Kick!

Dick Morosi: Crackerjack Kick! Out of nowhere! Sands is down!

Seth Ericson: Calm down Dick. It ain’t over until that bell rings.

Sands is struggling on the mat, not quite knowing what’s going on. Jaime is back on his feet, looking sharp, and looking at Brett. Sands slowly starts to stand, with Jaime quickly taking him back down with a Russian Legsweep. Jaime stands, looks at the crowd, and draws his thumb across his throat, calling for the end. He watches as Sands slowly makes it to his feet, before hooking arm and leg.

Dick Morosi: He’s going for Straight To Hades here.

As Jaime lifts, Sands slips out of his grip, hits the deck and rolls Jaime up in a Schoolboy going for a quick pin!

1

KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: And that’s why you can never, never count Brett Sands out!

Both men back to their feet. Jaime goes for a Muay Thai Kick, but Sands darts underneath it, and as Alejandro turns catches him with another Belly-to-Belly Suplex! Alejandro is dazed. Sands is getting up, but not with ease. Sands to his feet just as Alejandro gets to his knees. Brett charges, roaring with frustration, only to get caught with yet another Crackerjack Kick!

Dick Morosi: CRACKERJACK KICK AGAIN! He nearly took Brett’s head clean off!

Sands stumbles back, but doesn’t fall. Alejandro quickly charges, and with a colossal kick to the midsection gets him bent in half. No showboating, straight action, he follows straight up, getting Brett set up between his legs.

Seth Ericson: OK Brett, this isn’t the time to play possum.

Jaime explodes suddenly into motion... Kilmer Combustion!

Dick Morosi: KILMER COMBUSTION! That’s a world ending combination of moves right there! I’m sorry Seth, but I think this is done.

Brett is flown clear across the ring, hanging over the edge of the mat. Shaking the cobwebs out, Jaime gets to his feet. Spying his quarry, he slowly makes his way to him. Grabbing Sands by the trunks, he slowly starts pulling him up, only to be caught off guard as Brett rolls onto his back, and swings wild with a Baseball Bat!

Dick Morosi: What the hell? Where did that come from? He must have fished it out from under the ring apron!

Seth Ericson: Never count Sands out. When will people learn.

D’Artis Johnson calls for the bell, which rings. Sands pays no heed, attacking the now recumbent Alejandro with the bat. The bell keeps ringing, as Sands continues his assault, laying blow after blow on the prone figure. Eventually, Johnny Lee Richwine charges down from the entranceway, accompanied by the rest of security. Seeing them coming, Brett takes the bat and rolls to the outside, making his way back out of the arena, holding back any security who come near him with idle swings of his bat. David Zinkus picks up his mic.

David Zinkus: Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of this bout, by way of disqualification... JAIME ALEJANDRO!

The crowd erupts in a combined chorus of cheers for Alejandro’s win, and boos for Sands’ actions.

David Zinkus: Furthermore, due to the rules of the Honor Cup, Brett Sands is now eliminated from the tournament!

Sands just smirks at the top of the ramp, bat in hand, holding it above his head in triumph.

Dick Morosi: This is sick. Brett Sands is acting like he’s won, but Jaime Alejandro, the true victor, is lying flat on the mat, beaten.

Seth Ericson: Brett is the moral victor here Dick.

Dick Morosi: How is any of this moral Seth?

Seth Ericson: He’s the one walking out of here under his own power Dick. Nothing says victor more than that.

We cut to commercial with Jaime Alejandro starting to get back to his feet, looking irate towards Brett Sands.

WINNER: JAIME ALEJANDRO

We come back from commercial, and the crowd is starting to stir at the music!



‘Revolution Man’ by The Union Underground hits the speakers and Zero McHannon jumps out from behind the curtains wearing his ‘Wrestling Game Christian Kane’ tee shirt. The crowd is going wild for their World Champion as he freezes at the top of the ramp and holds his arms out to the flashing lights from the camera. Zero then pats the EXODUS World Championship, that was sitting comfortably on his waist, and tags some of the fans’ hands as he made his way to the ring.



A blast of sparks go off on the rampway, as Zero is standing at the bottom and throws his hands into the air for the cameras.



He slides into the ring and yells at the top of his lungs as the crowd raises of their feet to show Zero their support. An assistant makes their way to Zero and hands him a microphone as the crowd begins to die down. After the fans calm, Zero raises the mic and smiles.

Zero McHannon: I don’t think you were loud enough tonight, RIMAC. Better yet, I don’t think I heard you Section B!!!

The crowd erupts and drowns out all the noise. Zero grinds his teeth as he leans on the rope and begins to nod his head towards the arena.

Zero McHannon: Alright, let’s get down to business. As much as I would love to stand here and have fun with you guys all night, I came out here to cover a few things. It’s been a while, too long to be exact, since I’ve came out to the ring and discussed current events. As the Champ, that’s my job. Whether you like me or hate me, I promise to bring you the best show EXODUS has ever seen at Battle Without Honor or Humanity. Whoever walks out of that match the winner, starts a legacy of their own that night. Myself included in that equation. This will be the toughest, most brutal, and worthwhile match for the ages. This isn’t any regular triple threat match, this has a story of its own. If you win this match, you face the winner of the Honor Cup, and we all know what kind of war they’re going through right now. We have the chance to fulfill a destiny that most people could only dream about. A dream match from a pack of dream team competitors. This match is worth a lot more than just a championship belt!

Zero takes a few moments and the crowd starts chiming in behind him. He waits for it to quiet down and continues on talking.

Zero McHannon: This upcoming match isn’t going to be easy for anyone. It’s going to take a little bit of luck and a great amount of courage to walk out this ring the champion. We can all try to act like heroes, monsters, what the hell ever… Regardless of any alliances, there will no friends in that match. When people see the World Championship on the line, they will do drastic things. I already know I have my work cut out for me, I don’t need to be told or reminded. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be facing than the top two contenders in EXODUS today. I want to be a piece in the story of EXODUS history... and if I win, the mortal has beaten the giants. David and Goliath at its best. My competitors have a chance to start their own journey, but I have the ultimate play in the hand. I’m the one who decides the fate of this title. I will be the World Champion, or I won’t be. I’m the man holding the belt and I’m the man with the power.

He quits pacing around the ring and leans in the corner turnbuckle. Zero raises his hand to the ramp and welcomes someone new to the party.

Zero McHannon: So if I may go ahead and introduce... one of the contenders to my World Championship, 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, staying there for a few moments before he makes his way down the ramp. Dressed in a pair of black denim jeans, a black t-shirt with a faded, old background picture showing a city and Strike’s face on its center, the text below his face reading “Chris Strike: The World Destruction Tour 2013” with the back side reading off some of key shows and matches he’s been in lately and which opponents he’s faced - showing all events from his EXODUS debut up to two weeks ago and his match against Magnus Gunner. Chris then makes his way up the ring stairs, using the steel pole for support, putting his right foot over the middle rope and he enters the ring, immediately motioning for a microphone from one of the crew members at ringside, getting one almost instantly.

The crowd at the RIMAC is on the edge of their seats, as the main camera focuses on Strike as he stops at the center of the ring, looking around and finally placing the microphone to his lips.

Chris Strike: So, it’s been a while, indeed. Big week for everybody inside of this ring, given the events of the Honor Cup being in full swing as well as the poisons that we picked for one another. You and Zero get to dissect each other and give me more research to work with and meanwhile, I get to attempt to overcome the man who defeated our World champion two weeks ago. Tall task, but I’ll be damned if I say that I’m not up to the challenge. Just like the challenge that awaits me in a few weeks’ time at Korakuen Hall. Hell, as of now, that match is exactly like the one that you, Gunner and I had for the number one contendership for that…

Strike points to the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight title.

Chris Strike: ...very championship that you are now holding. Well-deserved, well-earned and yet, a lot of critics will come out and say that it hasn’t been well-represented. Which shows they haven’t been paying attention. Because around here? The “any given day” rule applies, ESPECIALLY with the level of talent that roams these halls. It’s a tall task to be the man at the top of the mountain, Zero, let alone to be doing it for the first time in your career. Twelve years in this business and three World title reigns have taught me that much. Contrary to weeks ago, where all I wanted to do was just leave you broken and battered while taking the contendership for my own...I have to commend you on growing up over our own eyes here. You’ve earned that championship and I’m confident that you’ll represent yourself and this company well. But what I’m here to tell you is that come January 26...you won’t have that championship there with you to do it.

Zero McHannon: That’s very thoughtful of you, Chris. It really is… I get what you’re doing already. Let’s not forget that I’m still the face of this company, and I’m the one who invited you out here. I didn’t plan for this to be an argument between us, more of a preview of what’s to come. You’re talking as if I’ve already lost the championship. You’re acting as if you’ll automatically be a better champion than me. Don’t count my days short, Chris. You talk about that mountain I’ve climbed, don’t begin to think that I will just let you come take my spot without a fight. I brought you out here because if I don’t manage to retain, we can’t afford to have this gold into the hands of Gods and Monsters… I WILL NOT let that happen. I don’t think you and me are sharing the same goal right now.

Chris Strike: Just as you said, Zero...this is more of a preview of how each of us see this one going. But I agree. It’s why I’m here. This distortion...that’s something that I bear the blame for, given that I couldn’t pull the trigger on Magnus Gunner when I had the chance. A distortion that I’m going to have a chance to correct come Battle Without Honor or Humanity. You...can do as you please, really. You’re the champion, you’re expected to defend that title. If targeting Gunner is your intent here, then by all means. If you try to swing at me mainly, I’ll defend myself accordingly. But come hell or high water...Magnus Gunner and Gods & Monsters are not leaving with that title.

Zero raises an eyebrow at Strike and looks towards the crowd before responding back.

Zero McHannon: I might be the champion but everyone still believes you’re their savior, Chris… I don’t have the power to waltz around and act however I want because I’m the man carrying the strap. My odds aren't drastically increased at Battle Without Honor or Humanity because I’m the World Champ. If Magnus gets the best of the both of us, we fail. I fail. My start to holding this title wasn’t like I imagined it, but I still have a chance to turn all of that around. It only takes one night, Chris. One match. One mistake. ONE CHANCE!! If I don’t prevail, I want to know that you will get the job done. EXODUS has prevailed over Monsters this whole time the doors have been opened. I refuse to let my legacy be remembered as not only the one that dropped the ball, but gave it away to some sick and vile children.

The two E-PRO titans are suddenly, and spontaneously interrupted much to their chagrin and frustration. “Pulse of the Maggots” by Slipknot plays through the speakers, and the RIMAC faithful immediately voice their frustration with a vociferous outcry of boos that quickly reach immense proportions. The camera pans over the atmosphere of the arena, until the dastardly duo from the group known as Gods and Monsters is spotted in the far end of the arena, in a sea of fans. As Lifer navigates down the stairs, Gunner himself is perched on an unfolded chair as he gazes listlessly over the people that are booing him. He continues to stand there for a few more seconds snarling as he wipes the bottom of his hand across the rim of his nose - afterward he drops down from his pinnacle and forces his way through the crowd. Both men finally reach the barricade, as their theme fades and the Lifer speaks into a microphone.

Zack Lifer:: You two bicker like an old married couple, no offense. I’m tired of you guys shoving it down my throat that you two stand at the top if only to discount everything I’ve done in this company. The only reason Zero’s even holding that title is because while I was home, licking my wounds, Zero was given a spot in the world title hunt after everything we did together.

Zero McHannon: Oh, here we go again…

He shakes his head from behind the barricade, glancing back at Gunner who stands slightly behind him, before looking back at Zero, who is shaking his head at the both of them. Zero walked over to the turnbuckle and took a seat on top.

Zack Lifer:: I beat Johnny Cannon to earn this EXODUS Pro International Championship and earn my spot in the Honor Cup. I beat Jaime and Anna Molly to dominate my block with no dispute. The reason?

Lifer points to the World Title around Zero’s shoulder, some boos coming from the crowd but they were almost silent, transfixed on every word he spoke, almost as if hypnotised and in a trance.

Zack Lifer:: That’s my reason, that belt of yours that you took right under my nose. So, give me a favor, old buddy, old pal. At Battle Without Honor or Humanity, I want you to prove you’re not a phony champion with a fake throne and an artificial new attitude. These fans of ours in the RIMAC don’t deserve someone who got the title on a lucky break because I wasn’t here, no. They deserve someone like Chris Strike here, they deserve someone like Magnus Gunner. They deserve someone like The Prince of Madness, me! Anything less than that? They’ll see right through you for what I already see you as - a mortal man who took an immortal shortcut to get to where you got while people more worthy were still beating countless guys on the roster just to get where you are! When people like me haven’t been pinned once in this company and other people like Steve Lenton who deserve a taste at the top of the gold for beating you before you even had a clue the bell rang!

To Zack’s surprise, a pop circulated throughout the crowd, loud and booming as they chanted a name as loud as they could around the RIMAC. Unfortunately, it wasn’t directed at Lifer himself but more so the mention of Steve Lenton deserving the title. Still, Lifer’s eyes grew humble and a sincere smile inched across his face.

Zack Lifer: You hear that, RIMAC?! Zero doesn’t think Steve Lenton deserves a shot at his gold! What a coward, am I right?

Chris Strike: He’ll get the chance to prove that much tonight...but if I can help it, I’m not playing gatekeeper gone wrong for the second show in a row.

More cheers from the crowd as he pandered, yet some still obviously booed in favor of who it was coming from.

Zero McHannon: Steve deserves a shot. You don’t, Nick. Get over it and tuck your ego back into your jockstrap.

Zack Lifer:: What about Blake Jones? Where’s his title shot? And what about Fiona? And why do people like Chandler Scott and Lasie have to go through an Honor Cup to even prove their worth? All these people deserve to cut in front of the line and yet you’re too consumed with that unseen ego to see that more deserving people like them need that prize much more than you do!

The crowd was torn, yet some cheered at Lifer’s words, believing he was right as he mentioned plenty of beloved fan favorites who already gained San Diego’s admiration. Zero pointing to Lifer from the turnbuckle he was sitting on and spoke.

Zero McHannon: First of all, I never said that none of those people deserved a chance, nor did I ever single Steve out. If they want a shot, I’m the first person who is willing to give them one.

He laughs at Lifer as the fans pop behind Zero.

Zero McHannon: Second of all, I’m not out here to talk to you. I’m out here to talk to the people that matter. You know, the people actually in the World Title match. Don’t you have something important to worry about, Lifer? For instance, the Honor Cup contestants that you keep trying to bring down and overlook. Don’t sit there and act like you haven’t been bashing those same people lately.

Christum Furor: ENOUGH!

All eyes turn to Christ Madness as he lifts a leg over the barricade and his body immediately follows - his attire becomes visible: his leather jacket covers his upper body, and a black sleeveless Albert Einstein t-shirt, while white hockey tape travels around his lower arms and fists. A pair of jean shorts and boots complete his ensemble. He looks over the masses in frustration, before lifting the microphone again to speak.

Christum Furor: I have listened to you three go back and forth for far too long, talking about things that have absolutely no consequence. I’ve had enough. Now, you all listen to the words of CHRISTUM FUROR… the GOD OF EXODUS!

Gunner enters the ringside area as the fans quickly retort with chants of “YOU’RE NO GOD”.  

Christum Furor: I am tired of this, tired of the squabbling, the bickering, the posturing, I’m sick of it all. Zero, you and Strike make me absolutely sick with your pageantry. Enough. Whether you like it or not, the New Age is imminent. There’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve seen every possible future, and in every one of them, I stand above both of you. In the end, I stand tall above your broken bodies, holding the EXODUS World Championship.

The crowd boos louder, frustrating the eloquent madman who looks over his shoulders and impatiently waits for them to quiet down.

Christum Furor: Do you hear that? That’s the sound of inevitability. That’s the sound of all of your hopes and dreams shattering in one fateful night. It’s a beautiful sound, is it not? You see, I’ve been a publicity stunt for far too long. As soon as I step into the building, I hear rumors. Ever since Desperate Times I’ve heard rumors. And they’ve gotten under my skin.

Zero McHannon: You’re so full of shit, it’s stinking up the arena. As you can tell, the fans smell it from a mile away.

He continues to stay perched on the ring post and points at Magnus.

Zero McHannon: I see right through you, Magnus. Keep pretending that I wasn’t one of your little group you have going. Different name, different people, but same damn concept. I use to think it was cute to make excuses and try to cover up my actions by saying that I was doing the right thing. At some point, I actually believed it. What it comes down to is that you’re the biggest fake in this room. You point the finger at everyone else around and say ‘that’s the bad guy’. You should look in the mirror. You want to fight the bad guy? I’m no saint. I’m no angel. I’m right here, and I’m ready for a war.

Gunner scoffs to himself, then shakes his head.

Christum Furor: You’re pathetic, misguided, and foolish. I have NEVER gone against what I believe in. NEVER done the opposite of what I said I would do. Since day one, I’ve been THIS man that you see before you. I’ve done heinous things, hurt people, because I can… because I’m a MONSTER. You’re the ones hiding that. YOU… and STRIKE, justifying your actions every single day, when deep down you’re just as horrible as me. Because you can’t accept your own demons. Humans are evil by nature, yet you and EVERYBODY else claim otherwise. That’s because Jonathan has conditioned you to say so. What you don’t realize, “champ” is that you’re being used. You’re a pawn. We’re all pawns in his chess game. Programs in his brilliant matrix. But unlike you, I’ve decided to escape. Unlike you, I’ve chosen to break free, and think for myself!

Magnus points to the side of his head.

Christum Furor: MY MIND IS FREE! I’m an anomaly. I’m a bitter, cold, demon. I’m not this schizophrenic, paranoid, madman that I’ve been made to be. You know who I am. I’m the one that put EXODUS on the map. I’m the top draw of THIS company, yet I’m not given my proper dues. And that has made me angry. You see, long ago, something died inside of me… and that was the will to care. Passion is dead, and in comes vengeance - in comes hate. Look at me, listen to me. I’ve been kept down from the pinnacle for far too long. To make it in this wayward society, you have to take things into your own hands. So sue me… sue me for taking a shotgun and firing it at anyone who stands against me and what I want.

He points at McHannon, and more importantly, the World Title.

Christum Furor: What I want… is to be ME. I don’t want to be the “EXODUS ACE” or whatever the hell that means, nor do I want to be a “Legend”, not even regarded as a “Superstar”. What I want Zero, is something that isn’t tangible. I’m CHRISTUM FUROR. I’m a GOD. I’m outside the box. I color outside the lines. Your moral codes do not hold me captive. I’m on the miscellaneous list. I never wanted to be anything other than what I am. All I want is the self-gratification of knowing that my presence is enough to keep these maggots captivated and on the edge of their seats. I’m the ONE. I’m not here to go through Honor Cups. I’m here to load a shotgun and fire. I refuse to be treated as anything other than that. And you know why?

Strike and McHannon simply look on while the sociopath continues his sermon.

Christum Furor: Hate. I hate you both. I hate everything. I hate myself. I hate these people. I’ve learned over the past few years that nothing can make you happy - that happiness is just an illusion, and that total satisfaction is impossible. Hunger drives me more. Pain drives me more. I know I’ll never be satisfied with myself, and that makes me bitter. But that makes me dangerous. That makes me the most feared man in this business. That makes me the next EXODUS World Champion. And I don’t give a damn if you or any of these people believe me. I don’t care if you understand what I’m saying. The fact that I’m even pronouncing a syllable is the only thing that matters right now. The only thing that counts is if I understand… and you can bet your ass that I know exactly what I’m talking about. And what I’m telling you two, is that your days are numbered. What matters is that I want to bring the world down to its knees. All that you need to know, is that the two of you are on a rope bridge, standing against me with all your ideals and fraudulence… but I hold a knife. And with it, I’ll cut the rope that sends you plummeting into oblivion, and EXODUS into the future. And I, rule THAT future. There, I am GOD.  

Zero shakes his head at Magnus in sympathy.

Zero McHannon: Just because you believe in it, doesn’t make it right… You sad, sad man. You’re dancing to your own tune. I use to be that monster. I realized that I don’t have to stoop to levels anymore. That will the reason I’m always better than you, Magnus. I don’t have to lie, cheat, deceive… I’m nobodies pawn. I’m mortal, just like you. And you will fall as a human being… Nothing more, nothing less. You sound like a moaning girl,crying because she didn’t the right Barbie she wanted. I see people like you come through this business all the time. We get it, you hate everything. Cool story, bro.

Zero laughs a bit and thinks about throwing Magnus a few coins for his Oscar performance.

Zero McHannon: You’re nothing special. I’ve heard the same sap story from day one, ‘Oh boy, I hate everyone. I’m going to take my anger out all over you guys’. Please, save it. If you have that much hate, go beat on a pillow. You’re a maniac who likes to cause problems, not care about anyone around him, and lick on an acid pop from time to time. You’re not God, because if you were, you’d be holding what I am right now. This belt makes you God of the company. This belt gives you the responsibility and the power. You can’t claim to be a God without a heaven. You can’t rule everything with only a couple of angels. And you are the last person I will ever let judge me. You’re not a monster for the ‘greater good’. You’re a monster because that’s the easy way out. Being careless, irresponsible, and a complete jackass doesn’t make you a man…. It makes you a coward.

And now, it’s Strike’s turn to step forward, directing his glance over at both members of Gods & Monsters.

Chris Strike: At the end of the day...we can all stand here and keep on yapping about what is to come, what’s eventually going to happen, so on and so forth. But you know what? Actions...now, those speak a hell of a lot louder than words. I’ll do my talking where it actually matters and that’s inside all of this. You boys...maybe you both should follow suit and do the same...right here...right now.

The stress hit the limit. Zero was sitting on one of the corner turnbuckles while the shouting match was going back and forth. On the other side of the ring, Magnus looks like he has had enough and gives Strike a kick to the gut and follows up with a MAGNUS DRIVER!!! Strike appears to be in some pain as he rolls to the ropes and grabs onto them.

Zero hops off the corner turnbuckle and rips his short over his head, throwing it into the stands. He pushes Magnus and Lifer away from Strike and starts to size them up as the crowd begins to pop. Strike manages to climb to one knee as Zero looks back over his shoulder to see if he is in any condition to fight.

Zero McHannon: Stand up and let’s take care of these bastards. No excuses before Battle Without Honor or Humanity.

While Zero was checking on Strike, Lifer took advantage of the situation. He jumped from the ropes and nails Zero in the side of the skull with a devastating FORCED SUICIDE!!! This makes Zero go tumbling across the mat and holding his head in agony. While the Gods and Monsters were celebrating their victory over the champion and one of its contenders, Strike comes out of nowhere with a NARUKAMI ON MAGNUS!!! Everyone is down except for Zack Lifer. Magnus rolls past the ropes and falls on to the mat outside while Strike backs himself into a corner, still feeling the after effect of the Magnus Driver.

Lifer glances over to see Gunner had abandoned ship, an annoyed look on his face that spoke volumes. In a matter of seconds, he suddenly begins to laugh as he points to Strike and taunts him. He holds the International Championship over his victim to where it makes a shadow over Strike and keeps yelling in his direction that he should already be champion right now. While he was telling Strike that he didn’t deserve to be in the position he was in, he slowly begins walking his way.

Lifer gets spinned around right in the middle of taking his steps towards Strike, and Zero jumps into the air, connecting with a CODEBREAKER!!! Lifer’s title flies into the air as he now lays eagle spread in the middle of the ring and Zero sits down Indian style beside Lifer’s motionless body. He reaches out for his title, that is only inches away, and pulls it close to his chest. Zero was saying something under his breath, clutching the World Title close, and staring wide eyed at Lifer.

He looks up to the top of the rampway where Magnus is laughing and pointing at the chaos in the ring. Strike stands up, glaring a hole through Gunner as his hands still hold on to the ropes while Zero looks from Lifer into Magnus’s eyes. Strike is trying to motion for Zero to stand up, but he doesn’t budge. He can’t take his eyes off Magnus as he holds up the championship from a sitting position for everyone to see what was at stake. Gunner simply motions around his waist, implying that the championship is his while the crowd goes wild.

Seth Ericson: THIS THING HAS GONE ABSOLUTELY NUTS!

Dick Morosi: Magnus Gunner, Chris Strike, and Zero McHannon have erupted over this title, but there's a cloud over them in the form of Steve Lenton, who has been on absolute fire as of late.

Seth Ericson: I hate to say it, but he may be the party crasher...just like Chandler Scott may be crashing Gabriel Gambino's party and his Honor Cup chances!

Dick Morosi: Very true! The Conqueror and the Harvard Superstar meet next!

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.

David Zinkus: From Hayannis Port, Massachusetts, weighing in at 255 lbs, escorted to the ring by Madison Scott… CHANDLER SCOTTTTT!!!

The two lovebirds ignore the boos, jeers and catcalls of the crowd, shooing them away like the trash that they are. After Chandler hops onto the apron, he helps Madison up onto the apron. Chandler then sits down on the bottom rope while holding the top rope up for Madison. After Madison makes her way into the ring, Chandler steps into the ring. He slowly turns around in a circular motion with his arms outstretched, basking in his glory while the crowd continues to boo.

The house lights drop suddenly, leaving only a lone spotlight atop the entrance ramp. The big screen lights up to show a single warrior riding into battle. Just as the warrior gets to his enemies the picture fades, "THE CONQUEROR" in blood red replacing it. The opening beat to Linkin Park’s “Papercut” (instrumental version) begins to play over the PA system.

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentlemen… From Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 227 pounds… Accompanied to the ring by Ms. Katherine Grayson… “The Conqueror”… GABRIEL GAMBIIIIIIINO!

When the beat drops, the big screen begins to play clips of various Gambino matches. GABRIEL GAMBINO, in block letters, appears in between clips, alternating with “THE CONQUEROR”. By now, the crowd has jumped to its feet in anticipation of Gabe’s appearance. After what seems like an eternity, Gabriel steps out from behind the curtain and into the spotlight, arm in arm with the very beautiful Kat Grayson. He stands there motionless, staring out into the crowd, as red and white strobe lights begin to alternate around the arena. He is dressed in a white t-shirt, a black Spartan helmet with red feathers on top on the front, and "I Came, I Saw, I Conquered" in red writing on the back. A pair of black and red neoprene elbow sleeves adorn his elbows, and his wrists are both wrapped heavily with white tape. Black trunks with his Spartan helmet logo and "The Conqueror" in red on the back are accompanied by two black kneepads, and a pair of high black boots. His dark brown hair is slicked back, and his goatee his neatly trimmed. Gabriel begins a methodically slow walk towards the ring, turning around with his arms outstretched about halfway down the ramp as Grayson applauds him. He continues to walk backwards for a few more steps before turning around, continuing his march to the ring with a purpose. Gabriel marches up the steps and enters the ring. He moves to the far turnbuckle, climbing the second rope and carefully lifting his right foot to the top rope. He stands with his arms stretched to the sky.[/p][/code]

Dick Morosi: It’s Godfather Vs Godfather Part Two!

Seth Ericson: You mean, The Godfather Part Two?

Dick Morosi: I should have seen that one coming.

Seth Ericson: But will this be more of a success than the original? There is a lot of anticipation for this match!

HONOR CUP D BLOCK MATCH:
CHANDLER SCOTT vs. GABRIEL GAMBINO

Both of them stare at each other from across the ring. Gabe obviously has the crowds support, something that doesn’t seem to affect Chandler as much as it did the previous show. Gabriel takes a few steps forward, staring his ally in the eye with a grin on his face. The Conqueror offers his hand in an act of sportsmanship, the fans applauding the gesture. Chandler pauses however, simply glaring at Gabe. The fans begin to mercilessly boo the Harvard graduate, Gambino looking thoroughly disappointed. He takes a step forward, offering his hand once more. Scott looks reluctant to do so, but eventually caves in and does so, to a smattering of applause from the RIMAC faithful.

Dick Morosi: I’m unsure whether Chandler actually wanted to show some sportsmanship, to his own team mate.

Seth Ericson: Scott is just in the zone right now, he doesn’t need any distractions.

Both go back to their respected corners as the bell rings. The two Godfathers begin to circle one another, with Madison and Kat cheering on their respected men. They immediately tie up, neither man wanting to budge. Gabe pushes Chandler down to one knee, but then the roles reverse as Chandler powers through. Gabe begins to make a comeback, but then his legs are swept out, to a chorus of hisses.

Dick Morosi: Sneaky move from Scott there, the fans didn’t like that one.

Seth Ericson: What ever gets the job done, Dick!

Chandler leaps and nails a knee drop, then another. He goes for a third, but Gabe rolls out of the way quickly. He returns to a vertical base, nailing a couple of chops. He begins to back Chandler up, to the roar of the crowd. Back into the corner he goes, lightning fast chops, one after another. Gambino then whips Chandler into the opposite turnbuckle with a thud, charging him down and then knocking him down with a beautiful Shining Wizard. Scott is dazed, trying to get up as Gambino begins booting him viciously in the chest. Scott is then pulled to the ropes by Madison, gripping them tightly. The ref didn’t catch it, but Kat Grayson did. She charges around the ring and an argument breaks out between the two women, Madison pleading her innocence.

Dick Morosi: There is Madison getting involved, just like last show. The ref needs to keep his eye on her!

Seth Ericson: I think that is what Kat Grayson is for, Dick. I sense a fight could be brewing on the outside.

Chandler holds onto the ropes for as long as he can, as Gabe backs up. Gambino screams at Chandler to come at him, which he gladly does. Chandler comes at him with a forearm, but Gambino blocks it and nails a perfect arm drag. He follows with a hip toss as he builds his momentum, then takes Scott down with a Double Knee Armbreaker. Chandler looks in pain as The Conqueror locks in a chicken wing, keeping up his early dominance.

Dick Morosi: If he can only bridge it, it could be all over.

Seth Ericson: Scott isn’t going to go down easy, Dick.

Gambino tries to tighten the hold, but Scott is squirming about trying to get back to the ropes. Madison is banging on the mat, trying to will her man to get out of the hold. Kat is right there next to her, ensuring that Madison doesn’t try to get involved again. Inches closer, mere inches. And he gets there!

Dick Morosi: Scott gets out via his own means.

Seth Ericson: Chandler is clinging onto those ropes. He knows Gabe has the experience advantage.

Gambino releases the hold, but then charges in to attempt a German suplex before Scott has time to even think. Scott keeps hold of the ropes with his left hand, elbowing him with his right arm. Gambino is rocked back, and Chandler spins out with the Harvard Hammer!

Dick Morosi: He’s going for that Hammer!

Seth Ericson: Gambino sees it coming though!

But Gambino ducks it. He kicks Scott in the stomach, going for the Fongul!

Dick Morosi: This is going to be over!

Seth Ericson: Chandler back drops him though! Great reversal with a bridge!

Chandler with the pin…

ONE…

TWO…

THR—

No! A kickout by The Conqueror! But Scott is waiting for him to get up. Down he goes with a textbook dropkick. Gambino is back at him, but Scott manages to floor him with a Pumphandle drop! Another pin…

ONE…

TWO…

Not as close this time. Chandler tries to lock in a traditional Boston Crab, but can’t seem to turn him over. Gambino begins kicking away at him from a grounded position, attempting to free himself. But on the last kick, Scott leans back, catapulting him into the corner. Gabe bounces off backwards. HARVARD HAMMER to the back of the head! And Gabe crashes face first into the turnbuckle!

Dick Morosi: Gambino’s face smashes into the turnbuckle! That could have broke his nose!

Seth Ericson: He is out of it, but still on his feet

Gambino stumbles out backwards, clearly out of it. He gets spun around and comes crashing down to the mat with Valediction! Scott holds on…

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!

Dick Morosi: And Chandler Scott gets his first points in the Honor Cup! Everyone in Group D is now off the mark!

Seth Ericson: You can never count Chandler Scott out! That’s why he has been the most successful GFC Champion of all time!
[/p]

Dick Morosi: You've got a point, Seth, and after this victory over Gambino and that early MOTY candidate with Andreas Lasiewicz, the entire fed is on the lookout for Chandler Scott. But, for now, let's head backstage!

WINNER: CHANDLER SCOTT

Switching from the action that wrapped up in the ring to the backstage area, the cameras spot the smirking form of the Reverend Jerry Matthews walking down the hallway, mentally preparing for his upcoming match. He is dressed in his usual suit and tie, his taped up wrists peeking out from underneath the blazer cuffs. He gives a small nod to a crew member as he nears the turn to head to his locker room. Just after he makes the turn, a feminine voice calls out from behind him, emanating from a small alcove just out of sight.

??: Going somewhere, Reverend?

Jerry Matthews: Who said that? Don’t be afraid to step into the light, child.

He turns around and looks off towards the sound of where the feminine voice came from in time to see a figure stepping out from the shadows. Dressed in dark blue jeans, black combat-style boots and a purple tank top, the figure is revealed to be that of wrestling legend Angela Jameson. She looks at the still-smirking Matthews and shakes her head.

Angela Jameson: I would hardly call myself a child. Much like I would hardly confuse you for a man of God.

Jerry Matthews: Now child, no need for hostilities. The Ninth commandment clearly forbids bearing false witness against your neighbor.

Angela Jameson: Spare me the lesson I already learned in Sunday school, ok?

Jerry Matthews: Forgive me, but do I know you?

Angela Jameson: My name is Angela. I was in the area and I figured I would stop by and catch the action. I’m actually here because of what you did to a good friend of mine.

Jerry ponders this for a second.

Jerry Matthews: I only do what the Lord commands me to do. I am simply doing His will.

Angela Jameson: Try telling that to Jonathan Collins.

Jerry’s smirk only seems to grow at the mention of that name.

Jerry Matthews: What happened to Jonathan was unfortunate but necessary. He is a prime example of the evil I have been sent to eradicate from this world.

Angela’s crystal blue eyes narrow as she walks towards the Reverend, her hands going to her hips.

Angela Jameson: Really? So you decide to screw up his life by going after his family? What kind of sick bastard goes after an innocent little girl? Not only that, but you could have permanently injured him with that stunt you pulled.

Jerry Matthews: That is where your emotions cloud your judgment. Jonathan Collins is being punished for his sins. You may not realize this, but his sins are many. What happened to his and his disciple two weeks ago were merely steps in my crusade to make the world pure again, reformed in His own image.

Angela can’t help but roll her eyes as she tosses her hair back.

Angela Jameson: People like you make me sick to my stomach. Your whole crusade of doing what is right in the eyes of God is a joke. In fact, you are violating the second and third Commandments.

She says with a slight smirk of her own. However, Jerry is not one to be outdone, especially when it comes to Biblical matters.

Jerry Matthews: Dear sister, I would love nothing more than to talk about the Word of God with you, but I have a match to prepare for so I must be going. Perhaps afterwards, we can discuss your own path of redemption in the eyes of the Lord. Until then, God bless you.

He says with a smirk as he walks off, leaving a visibly angered Fallen Angel standing in the spot where he left, watching his every move as we go to a commercial break.

The feed comes back from commercial, beginning to focus on the faces of Dick Morosi and Seth Ericson before a burst of static cuts them out, replacing them with a closeup of the face of Kira T. Zeppeli, who faces the camera with a grin.

Kira T. Zeppeli: Block C will go down as the block whose results no one saw coming. Your hero, Fiona Rourke, fed upon. Your former hero, Sally Talfourd, fed upon. And now I stand tall over Block C, casting my shadow of Despair over everyone....not just in my block, but in the rest. Because now they're starting to realize...I can't be stopped. But for now...I just get to sit and watch, as a former meal and a future one try desperately to add a point to their names, even though they know how futile it is, for the future is already decided. And from my perch atop this block I'll watch the main event with much interest...seeing how much Savannah puts into her match, despite the inevitability of what's coming...because in two weeks...the little lost girl from Vegas...falls into a Nightmare of Despair.

The burst of static comes again, leaving the camera on Dick and Seth, who look at each other with worry.

Dick Morosi: Well...Kira T. Zeppeli making his intentions known, as he plans on going 3-0 in his block, with the only person standing against the despair eater being Savannah Taylor!

Seth Ericson: I believe in her hotness, she can beat him!

Dick Morosi: I hope she shares your enthusiasm, she'll need it not only for her task in two weeks, but tonight against Fiona! But let's focus on the right now, we've got a B-Block match AND a San Diego Bay title match, as the Risen Star Jimmy Riley takes on the mysterious otherworldly detective, Cthulhu Jones. Take it away, David!

David Zinkus: The following match is scheduled for one fall, and it is a Block B Honor Cup match for the San Diego Bay Title!

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!

David Zinkus: Coming down the aisle, from R'lyeh, weighing in at 200 pounds...he is CTHULUUUUUUUUUUUUUU JONES!

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 his shirt and slacks beneath. He shakes hands with both the referee and announcer, before heading back to his corner to wait, rolling his sleeves up as he does.

Dick Morosi: Despite losing his first match against Seymour Almasy, Cthulu Jones surprised a lot of people!

Seth Ericson: With the amount of times I saw him before these matches, I'm genuinely surprised Cthulu was real. I was starting to think I dreamed him up!

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



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



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

David Zinkus: Now entering the ring, from Cleveland, Ohio...now residing in San Diego, California! Weighing in at two-hundred fourty-five pounds, he is the EXODUS Pro San Diego Bay Champion! 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. He keeps his eye on Cthulu as referee D'Artis Johnson starts checking for foreign objects, all before he takes the San Diego Bay Title and hoists it into the air, giving the indication it is a title match, all before the bell rings and this match is on! The two start circling each other, and instantly Jimmy goes to utilize his striking with his elbow, but Jones rolls under it, leaping back to attempt a Pele kick...but Riley sidesteps and Cthulu rolls back to his feet. Jimmy charges forward with a forearm, but Cthulu again ducks, goes to the ropes for a handstand and tries to bounce back with an elbow of his own. Jimmy avoids the elbow as both men are standing in the middle of the ring!

Seth Ericson: This is the kind of match we're gonna be expecting tonight. A huge back and forth series.

Dick Morosi: Both men are highly skilled. Both men want this match. For Cthulu, it's go big or go home. For Riley, he is in the driver's seat for this block.

HONOR CUP B BLOCK MATCH, SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
JIMMY RILEY (ExPro San Diego Bay Champion) vs. CTHULHU JONES

You see the men circling each other. As they circle, you see Riley throwing a hard kick with authority towards Cthulu's knee. The PI moves out of the way and throws his own quick shot to Jimmy's temple. But the always quick Riley moves out of the way and comes back with a hard round kick to Cthulu's midsection. The "old one" doubles over for a second. Jimmy slings himself back to the ropes and vaults himself over for a Koppou Kick! But the man from R'yleh moves out the way as Jimmy lands on his backside. Instead of staying down, though, Jimmy comes back and nails the detective with a snap Pele kick to the skull! You see the old gumshoe fall to the mat face first hard. As he does, Jimmy takes advantage with a simple headlock, keeping the wise one on the ground.

Dick Morosi: And Riley is keeping Jones down on the ground as long as he can. While Riley has the speed, Jones is just one of the most frustrating athletes around.

Seth Ericson: You could say that Jones is almost "maddening."

Riley is doing all he can to keep Cthulu down, but you see the old gumshoe stirring with his feet. Jimmy sees this and tries to clinch the move harder. But the Old One cannot be denied. At first, he gets to his knees. This forces Jimmy to adjust his hold, but Jones gets his wits about him and starts moving to his feet. You see "The Risen Star" struggling to keep his hold cinched in, but again, Cthulu gets to his feet in a hunched over position. Jimmy Riley is doing all he can to keep this maddening opponent down as much as he can, but Cthulu reaches his arms around Jimmy's waist and snaps himself and Jimmy back. The gumshoe plants Jimmy with a hard backdrop driver, and holds for the pin!

Dick Morosi: One... two... and Jimmy just threw the shoulder out.

Seth Ericson: And Cthulu just further got inside Jimmy's head. He countered that hold and nearly got Jimmy in trouble.

Jimmy looks at Cthulu in a bit of frustration. The gumshoe hits the mat a bit and gets to his feet, as does Jimmy. Both men are staring at each other looking for the next vantage point. Cthulu drops down as Jimmy comes running and nails him with a Dragon Screw. Jimmy goes down hard from the shock of the move. You see Cthulu pulling Jimmy close with the Inside Leg Hook. As he does, he pulls him up and over and drops him on his head. Riley's shoulders are in contact with the mat as Johnson starts his count!

Seth Ericson: That Move I Beat Lovecraft With! One! Tw... No, Riley kicked out!

Dick Morosi: And Riley's not done in this match yet! Or in the Honor Cup!

As Jimmy kicks out of that devastating move, you see Cthulu looking towards Jimmy and shakes his head slowly. Riley holds his head and glares over at Cthulu. As the man from R'yleh charges towards Jimmy, you see Jimmy spin around and nail Cthulu with a huge lariat!

Dick Morosi: Supernova Lariat!

Seth Ericson: Which means, it's time to get out the lighters, folks!

Riley picks up Cthulu, with a bit of effort and puts him up in the Fireman's carry position! As he does, you see Jimmy lift up and drop down with an elbow to the skull of his opponent. Cthulu drops with a thud to the ground, as Riley goes for the pin.

Dick Morosi: Light 'Em Up! One, two, three!

D'Artis Johnson calls for the bell as Jimmy Riley pushes off of Cthulu Jones to get himself up. Johnson raises up Jimmy's arm in victory. Riley nods as Zinkus announces...

David Zinkus: Your winner, by pinfall. "THE RISEN STAR" JIMMY RILEY!

Riley keeps his arms raised as the crowd looks on in the ring, wondering about the man from R'yleh on the ground. Cthulu Jones looks around as the crowd cheers for his efforts on this night.

Dick Morosi: And no shame in that man's efforts tonight, Scott...

Seth Ericson: He took Riley to his limits. Now we wait and see what the rest of the Honor Cup is going to look like. He's not done yet. For now, backstage we go!

WINNER: JIMMY RILEY

We come backstage, and Shinji Uchikawa is there, ribs still taped up from the attack two weeks ago from Jerry Matthews. Clearly, something is on his mind and he seems to be heading to the locker room for Fiona Rourke, leading him to knock on it.

Shinji Uchikawa: Fiona?

He knocks again, still unsure as he starts to knock again, this time realizing the door was open. As he pushes the door open to look at what's going on, he finds himself stunned that as he looks inside, he's horrified to find out that someone is on the ground in the locker room.

The still body of Sally Talfourd. Shinji is completely horrified at the sight, looking around as the door swings open again, this time Fiona Rourke actually being in the room.

Shinji Uchikawa: Fiona?

Fiona Rourke: Shinji...no, seriously, this has to be a joke...

He seems absolutely stunned, and as he looks on, we go to commercial.

We come back from commercial, already with two people in plain view!

Tom Matheny: Ladies and gentlemen, standing by me is one half of the tag team champions, "The Big L" Steve Lenton!

Steve Lenton steps into the picture, clutching his Tag Team Championship and glaring off with a firm stance. He's looking off into the distance, a look of focus illuminating from his eyes. He slowly looks down at Tom, waiting for his questions.

Tom Matheny: Steve, in just a few moments you're going to be facing the #1 contender for the EXODUS Pro World Championship, Chris Strike. If you are to win this match, you will be considered for a title shot in the near future. I have to ask you honestly....are you at all nervous...?

Steve Lenton slowly takes the belt from his shoulder and holds it in his hand, glaring at Tom. Lenton takes the mic away from his lightly and points for Tom to move out of the way for a moment. Steve glares at the camera, looking deep into it as sweat pours down his forehead.

Steve Lenton: Let The Big L tell the fans this: The Big L's been waiting for this match. When it was announced, The Big L marked it on his calendar; He went into the gym, clangin' and bangin' away at those weights; He ate, slept, went back to the gym, went back home took a shower, then went RIGHT back...to getting prepared for his showdown with Chris Strike. Many people asked him over the Holiday break if he's nervous. People must be looking at The Big L shaking, they must think he's afraid to get in the ring with such a tough opponent. The Big L has one thing to say to those people: HELL NAW HE AIN'T AFRAID TO GET IN THAT RING WITH CHRIS STRIKE!!! The Big L is EXCITED, PRIMED, AND READY TO GO!!! I promised San Diego, California for a match, a damn good match like he promised the people two weeks ago! EVERYTHING...and The Big L means EVERYTHING is riding on this match!! If you think for a moment The Big L's afraid or nervous, or worried about this match. The Big L wants to ask you people a question: What rock do you live under, so The Big L can send you some DVDs of his matches?!

The Big L will put it to you this way, Chris Strike and I know what this match means. We KNOW...without a shadow of a doubt this will change the title picture. If I am to win, if I am to pin Chris Strike, one, two, three on the canvas, he has a chance to become world champion. Now it might be greedy of me wanting to do that seeing as me and Wulf are rightfully the tag team champions of the WORLD; But The Big L cannot, will not, pass up the opportunity to represent this company as their champion. He don't give a damn about fame, he doesn't give a damn about money, WHAT THE BIG L GIVES A DAMN ABOUT IS HIS PEOPLE!!!!!

He pauses, his eyes widen with intensity. Looking off to the side, and listening out for the crowd. He hears the faint, but very apparent cheers as he nods his head.

Steve Lenton: BECAUSE THE PEOPLE...DESERVE IT!!! They don't need to be represented by guys like Zack Lifer...or Magnus Gunner. Wanna know somethin' The Big L has heard a lot from them lately, sayin' they don't get appreciated enough. They say they don't get enough love; Well let The Big L tell you somethin' in order to receive The Big L's people's love, you have to GIVE IT!!! The Big L FEEDS OFF OF THE PEOPLE'S LOVE FOR HIM!!! IT SHOWS EACH TIME HE STEPS INTO A WRESTLING RING!!! FROM THE WEST COAST TO THE FAR EAST...The Big L is loved worldwide. The Big L and The Big L's people...ain't got time for the B.S. that is Gods and Monsters nor do they for people who want to take their love for granted!!! Magnus Gunner wants to talk about how he is a GOD, how he is the namesake for the business. Well Magnus I wrote a song for you...based off the children T.V. show hit "Bananas in Pajamas", tell me if you like it Tom, c'mere.

Steve puts an arm around Tom, and shoves the microphone into his chest. Tom blinks as The Big L attempts to harmonize. He blinks and nods his head for the okay. The Big L gives a BIG friendly looking expression, swaying back and forth with Tom to his tune.

Steve Lenton: ♫ Magnus. The Jackass.
Better shut his goddamn lips.
BEFORE THE BIG L BEATS HIS ASS!!!
AND THEN MAKES'EM HIS BITCH!!!!♫

The Big L's face turns serious after the last set of lyrics. He glances at Tom who looks at him and gives a small smirk. The Big L pats him on the back and takes back the microphone not through.

Steve Lenton: YOU WANT RESPECT YOU OBTAIN IT. AND I DON'T RESPECT MAGNUS GUNNER THE MAN. THE BIG L WILL MEET YOU IN A RING ONE ON ONE SOMEDAY! AND HE WILL SHOW YOU JUST HOW POWERFUL THE PEOPLE'S LOVE IS!!! But right now, The Big L faces Strike, The Big L is PROUD to be in such a match! What The Big L wants his people do is this: I want you to sit REAL close to that T.V., real, real close. THEN, The Big L wants you to focus real hard on this match, because what you will witness YET again tonight in front of the THOUSANDS...and MILLIONS in SAN. DIEGO. CALI-FORNIA...an INSTANT...CLASSIC!!! GOOD LUCK STRIKE, LET'S RAISE HELL!!!

Lenton tosses the mic to a now visible Tom Matheny, who looks on with a bewildered, yet excited glance.

Tom Matheny: Ladies and gentlemen, Steve Lenton vs Chris Strike will begin NOW!!

SPECIAL SINGLES MATCH
CHRIS STRIKE vs. "THE BIG L" STEVE LENTON

David Zinkus: The following contest is scheduled for one fall…

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.

David Zinkus: Introducing first, from São Paulo Brazil, by way of Denver, Colorado. Standing at five-foot-eleven, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and fifteen pounds… this is Christ STRIIIKKEE!!!

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…

DIck Morosi: Chris Strike looks as focused, as I’ve ever seen him. He’s made no secret that he feels he dropped the ball two weeks ago against Magnus Gunner. Tonight, he’s looking to rectify the situation and pick up some much needed momentum.

Seth Ericson: I’m willing to bet we’ll see a much more aggressive side from Strike tonight. Same from McHannon later on. They’ve got a lot to prove to themselves tonight. They’re looking to repair their confidence, and remind everyone that they should be in the Main Event at Battle Without Honor or Humanity.

The sounds of cheers are heard around the arena. The fans wait in anticipation, almost eager for him to come out. The lights flash a royal blue and suddenly "Aw Naw" (Remix) by Nappy Roots ft. POD blares. The crowd begins to sing along with the opening part. Lenton busts through the curtains. The fans bust into a defying scream of cheers. Lenton is talking to the crowd jumping up and down on the stage, walking from one end to the next. The camera zooms in on his face, "Listen to that!" Lenton exclaims with a smirk. He walks up the ramp with a slight strut, looking out at the crowd.

David Zinkus: And his opponent, coming from Hampton, Virginia by way of Washington D.C. He stands at a towering six foot five inches tall, and weighs in tonight at two hundred and fifity-seven pounds… this is one half of the EXODUS Tag Team Champions… “The Big L”, Steve LENTOOONNN!

He stops short and looks around for a moment. He takes it all in, listening to the fans cheer for him. Some of the fans hand touch him. Stephen slaps the hands and continues to make his way up the ramp with his eyes glued on the arena again. Once he makes it to the apron, he looks at the ring and then climbs up on it quickly and stands up on the turnbuckle. The lights around the arena then turn into a spotlight. Lenton's eyes turn towards his opponent eyes locked on directly, staring intensely.

Dick Morosi: Many believe Magnus Gunner is hottest superstar in the company right now. However, this man has been on a tear like no other. Along with Wulk Erikssen no knocked off The Turks for the Tag Team Titles. Then he went on to defeat World Champion Zero McHannon two weeks ago in what many are calling the upset of the year.

Seth Ericson: And some of us are calling that a fluke. Nevertheless, Steve has a prime opportunity tonight. You heard what Interim Director Christian Kane said, should Lenton win, the Title picture will be reevaluated.

The fans continue to cheer as the song begins to break down. Lenton turns back to the crowd, forms a smirk on his face and lifts his arm in the air with enthusiasm. He wipes his mouth and leaps down from the turnbuckle and stands in the ring, circling it. He decides to hit the turnbuckle again standing on it lifting his right arm in the air the same way he did. He takes in the cheers, looking around slowly. Stephen leaps down and stands in his corner, getting ready to fight.

Dick Morosi: These two are ready to go. Should be a highly competitive contest between two men who quite simply, need this victory.

As the bell rings the two superstars immediately circle around the ring before making their way into the center. Clasping their hands together, both men quickly match technique in a test of strength. Lenton immediately begins to tip the balance in his favor, exploiting his size and strength advantage to gain the early upper hand. With The Big L forcing the issue, Strike takes evasive action, quickly kicking away one of Steve’s arms before rolling backward, whilst maintaining his grip. Strike suddenly springs to his feet, bending his foe’s arm in the process. As Lenton winces in pain from the Top Wristlock, Chris quickly strafes behind him before immobilizing the big hoss with a Hammerlock. The Big L is left subdued by the submission hold, leaving Chris Strike holding all the cards as he appears to have his opponent right where he wants him - or so he thought. The adept grappler displays his quickness and cleverness as he spins out of the hold before wrapping his tree trunk arms around his foe’s torso with a waistlock. The titan then displays his might as he lifts Chris off the canvas, only to bring him back down to earth in one swift motion, slamming him chest first into the canvas.

Lying on his front, Chris Strike is completely vulnerable, allowing The Big L to take control and exert his dominance as he swings around to the top of the Brazilian’s body before trapping his head in his armpit and capturing him in a front facelock. Despite having his head compressed between his foe’s massive biceps, the savvy vet keeps his composure, darting his eyes from place to place in search of an opening. Lifting up off the mat, the window of opportunity presents itself, and Strike doesn’t hesitate to burst through i as he sits through and rolls, simultaneously seizing Lenton’s nearest arm. Having escaped his predicament, and he stills holds onto the captured appending and rises to his feet, whilst dragging the Virginian to a vertical base. Before Steve can even contemplate a way to protect himself, Chris scores with a toe kick to double the genetic freak over. The dexterous technician then flourishes his technical prowess, leaping into the air whilst draping Steve’s arm across his chest. As he hits the canvas, he plants Lenton face first into the canvas, and violently bends the arm, before leaning up to apply a Fujiwara Armbar.

Dick Morosi: Chris Strike looks to be attacking Steve’s arm. He turned that Arm Breaker right into a submission hold. And that Arm Bar in cinched in tight!

Seth Ericson: It started off as a chain wrestling exhibition, and Strike proved that he was too much to handle with his elusiveness and technical mastery. He now has the edge.

Dick Morosi: Brilliant analysis Seth. When did you become such an expert?

Seth Ericson: Since I made my ex wife tap out of our marriage.

Steve reaches out for the ropes, but they’re too far away. Chris continues to hold on, but Lenton’s tenacity and willpower refuse to allow The Big L to submit. Strike quickly climbs back to his feet consequently lifting his foe onto his knees - and with Lenton’s arm still in his grasp he quickly kicks the aforementioned limb, further increasing the Virginian’s distress, before suddenly stepping over the arm with his inside leg, causing him to give Steve his back. He continues to rotate, before diving forward over his adversary and rolling onto his side. The captured arm acts as a lever, flipping and coercing one half of Trouble onto his back, and with his shoulders pinned down Chris hook his legs for the pin.

“ONE!”
“TWO!”

Chris Dawson raises his arm for the third count, but Steve manages to escape to break up the count. Steve starts to crawl away, but he is stopped as he feels his leg being tugged. Chris pulls him back, before leaping forward to score with an elbow drop to the back of the neck. Back on his feet, Strike grapples his foe’s weakened arm and uses it to lift him to a vertical base. Shooting his arm up, Strike belts him in the chin with a blistering forearm shot - the European Uppercut sends the Virginian staggering into the corner. Chris takes a moment to contemplate his next move, as he has wrestled a perfect match to his point. Aware of his next plan of action, Strike charges at the corner, running full steam ahead, only to be caught by a back elbow as Lenton side steps out of the corner. The Big L follows up with a stiff knife-edge chop to a turning Strikes chest, followed by a stiff right hand, and an elbow strike to the hairline from his good arm. Steve scores with a toe kick to the breadbasket to double him over, and with Chris leaning forward, is able to land a thunder knee to the head.

The Brizilian’s head whiplashes awkwardly following the concussive blow, leaving him hobbling in place and seemingly out on his legs. With Strike visibly punch-drunk, The Big L looks to build up some momentum, as he charges the ropes. Upon rebounding, he extends his arm out - however the Clothesline is artfully countered, as the adroit Strike quickly captures said limb before turning away and dropping to the canvas - exploiting Steve’s momentum to drag him over his shoulder and throw him into the mat with a thud. Still clutching his supine foe’s arm, he quickly applies a Cross Armreaker, pulling and hyper-extending his foe’s shoulder and blow and effectively springboarding his opponent into the defeat’s embrace.

Seth Ericson: Another Arm Bar. Strike’s strategy has been flawless tonight. And look at him, he’s trying to tear it apart out there.

Dick Morosi: Just when Lenton was picking up a head of steam, Strike counters with another submission. He has ended centered his focused on Steve’s arm, and the Big L is in a bad way.

Seth Ericson: And he may have no choice to tap out, I mean look at him. He’s in obvious pain and that arm has taken a tremendous amount of punishment, and the longer he remains in that hold, the greater the risk of serious injury.

Dick Morosi: If I know The Big L, he’d rather have his arm broken than give up.

Refusing to quit, refusing to die, and knowing the fans are rallying behind him, The Big L slowly begins to channel his energy. He somehow musters up enough strength, as he gradually begins to rise to his feet despite Strike persistently holding onto his arm like a rabid dog. With Strike’s back on the mat, Steve winds his free hand before landing a right hand across the Brazilian's mug. He quickly follows up with another stiff punch to his foe’s facial features, the latter of which causes Chris to loosen his grip enough to allow Lenton to lift him into the air. The RIMAc explodes as Steve almost effortlessly lifts up Strike’s entire two hundred and fifteen pound frame off the canvas, and into the air. With a vociferous warcry, Lenton pulls him down from the electric atmosphere, viciously slamming and thrusting him into the canvas with both authority and a resounding thud, leaving the ring shaking slightly from the impressive counter. Unable to capitalize, Lenton rolls away grasping his weakened arm, and both men soon lie on the canvas, exhausted beyond belief due to the battle of attrition.

Strike slowly gathers himself, and he uses the ropes to bring himself to a vertical base. Lenton his able to do the same, albeit at a snails pace. He immediately takes homage in the opposite corner from his foe who begins to smile, loving Steve’s fierce competitive fire and thoroughly enjoying the war they were waging. The crowd notices this, and Lenton peers out at them upon wiping sweat from his brown, and a divide is caused in the bleachers, with one set of fans chanting “LET’S GO STRIKE”, which is immediately followed with a shout of “LET’S GO LENTON!” from The Big L’s supporters.

Dick Morosi: The fans are torn here. Even they don’t know who to root for. It’s been such a great contest so far, and they know both men are going to leave their all out there.

Set Ericson: We’ve just passed the ten minute mark in this match. Time to see what these guys are made of.

The two battle-weary combatants approach each other once again, with the atmosphere in the RIMAc growing to near biblical proportions. Both men hesitate to make the first move, so the situation is made to look like a stare down. After what seems like an eternity, Steve makes the first move, landing a lightning fast right hand on the aw of the Brazilian, forcing Strike’s head to spring back. The beloved veteran quickly follows suit, returning fire with a shoot kick to Lenton’s injured arm. Steve staggers back in obvious pain, and Strike immediately grabs at the arm to whip him into the ropes. Lenton counters the Irish Whip with one of his own, and launches his adversary into the cables. Strike charges forward at Lenton who tries to throw an elbow, but Chris coyly dodges contact and makes it to the other side of the ring, rebounding off the ropes off the ropes again. Only this time he comes back in an aggressive manner, and launches himself through the air at Lenton, landing horizontally across the chest of the bigger man and effectively takes him down with a Cross Body. However, Lenton rolls through and manages to hold onto his foe, and immediately climbs to his feet to the roaring crowd’s delight. In one fluid motion he lifts Strike onto his shoulders before reclining backward, dropping his full two hundred and fifty-seven pound frame onto his small adversary as he vigorously slams him into the mat.

Having landed with a thud, Strike is left sprawling on the canvas, allowing Lenton to execute a lateral press as he rolls over to hook his leg for the pinfall.
”ONE!”
“TWO!”

Despite his physical anguish, Chris Strike musters enough strength to roll his hips and get a shoulder up, breaking the pinfall.

Lenton hoists his head up, too weak to lash out in frustration, too alive to not feel the anguish. Slowly turning over, he looks up at Chris Dawson with pleading eyes, trying to convey a message just by trapping his gaze. The zebra clad official bluntly puts up two finger in the air - it may as well be a judge passing a sentence on him for all it matters. As Strike turns onto his front, Steve climbs up his feet, quickly stomping him on the lower back, before connected with an elbow drop to the same area. Chris convulses on the mat, and his display of distress prompts The Big L to punish him with another elbow drop, and then a third. Climbing off Strike’s body, Steve turns to reach around his foe’s body and lock his hands around the Brazilian’s waist. In a tremendous show of strength, Lenton deadlifts Strike’s entire two hundred and fifteen pound frame off the canvas and hoists him into the air. He holds him there for a moment, and grimaces as Strike’s weight causes him to exert more pressure on his already injured arm. Unable to hold him any longer, he finally lifts him overhead before turning to slam him back first into the canvas with authority. Lifting up onto his knees, Steve cringes in pain, and holds his arm before slowly making the cover.

Dick Morosi: Gutrench Suplex! The Big L, despite apparently wrestling out there with one good arm, STILL managed to deadlift Chris Strike and slam him into the canvas. He is an animal Seth!

Seth Ericson: He may be pound for pound the strongest guy in the company. That was insane!

“ONE!”
“TWO!”

Showing his resolve, Strike contorts his body and rolls a shoulder over, sending the crowd into a frenzy and dismaying Lenton in the process. The Big L crawls away from his foe, desperately racking his brains for an idea. He inhales deeply, burying the oxygen into his lungs, and pounds his chest to further excite the crowd. As if experiencing a second wind, and adrenaline rush, he pushes himself to his once unsteady feet. Strike begins to stir, clutching the small of his back from the crushing impact of the prior Suplex. He feels around, deciding against trusting his vision in finding the ring ropes. He shuffles on his knees like a blind man with his arms outstretched, but eventually clutches the cables. As Strike makes his way to a vertical base, Steve hastily, vigorously and repeatedly winds back his good arm, and the entire arena knows what’s next. Despite his fans pleas against it, Chris turns around, almost sealing his fate. Lenton immediately charges forward, and goes for his vicious Lariat. Strike circumvents the maneuver, and if wasn’t for the crowd’s noise level, he could’ve heard the sound of Steve arm cutting through the air. Strike immediately spins around, but The Big L is two steps ahead of him, and shuffles on his feet to come back around with ANOTHER lariat. The collision of biceps and sternum reverberates through the RIMAC - and the force both flattens, and turns Chris Strike inside out.

Dick Morosi: GAME CHANGER: AUDIBLE! GOOD GOD WHAT A LARIAT! He missed the first one, but spun around to take damn near takes Strike’s head off.

Seth Ericson: But look at Steve. He can’t go for the pin. He had to use his bad arm, and THAT could be the deciding factor in this match.

Indeed Lenton had rolled away clutching his impaired limb. He writhes in pain on the canvas, before moving into the corner. Fighting through the pain, he mouths to himself “TIME TO MAN UP”. The Big L works the cogs of his brain to prepare himself for the third stretch, and as he begins pounding the mat to get a rhythm going, the fans in the arena follow; clapping their hands or slapping their thighs, or stomping their feet, they try to help further psyche the Virginian up. They succeed as he clutches the ring rope and pulls himself to his feet, waiting for Chris Strike. The veteran senses the vibrations from the fan’s rhythmic beats, and he knows something is up, albeit subconsciously. The former “God of Thunder” gradually rises to his feet, and slowly, he turns around to accept his fate. Steve nods with a sly, confident grin, before launching himself across the ring in a sprint. The Big L bends slightly, and the two meet in the middle of the ring - only not in the fashion Lenton had hoped, as his maneuver is countered by a sick Enzuigiri. Strike leaps up to plant his boot firmly in his charges fore’s skull, countering Lenton’s 3:00 Pounce finisher and knocking him flat on his back.

As the approval of the crowd is audible once more, Strike crawls over and grabs onto Lenton’s legs. He pulls his foe closer to himself, then pulls The Big L’s legs up - afterward he flips over, pulling the Virginian’s legs back and locking him in a Jackknife pin. Chris Dawson approaches and drops down to begin the count.

Seth Ericson: Chris Strike with the counter! Steve Lenton had him, right until the moment he got his brains scrambled! That should do it.

”ONE!”
“TWO!”

Chris Strike immediately sighs as Lenton somehow manages to power out of the pinning predicament. Fanfare ensues as the Brazilian sits up and scours his brain for a possible way to end this fantastic match. An aggressive Strike crawls toward Steve, then slips an arm under his neck to apply a grounded facelock. Strike begins getting up, pulling Steve up as he does so. A few seconds pass as the two men both reach a vertical base, and the opportunistic Lenton throws a quick jab into Chris’ rigs before slipping his head free from the technician’s arms. The tag champion then pats his right forearm before throwing it upward, landing a vicious blow into his opponent’s jaw. Strike turns around due to the force of the attack, then simply falls on his face while Lenton leans back for a moment to gather himself. Listening to the crowd for a final bit of encouragement, Lenton stomps his feet on the canvas. Strike begins pulling himself up on the far ropes while The Big L patiently waits.

Lenton snorts like a bull, knowing that the only thing standing between him and a solidified Main Event status at this point in the match is one move. Chris Strike pulls himself to his feet and leans on the ropes for a second, then the instant that he turns around, The Big L begins charging. Once he is in range, Steve lowers his shoulder and closes his eyes looking for the BLITZ… but he misses. Chris ducks the Gore and Lenton flies shoulder first into the turnbuckle post.

Seth Ericson: HE MISSED!

As Lenton ejects from the turnbuckle, Strike crouches behind him, then puts his head between The Big L’s legs. The Brazilian grabs Steve by the knees and then pushes his body up, hoisting the heavier man onto his shoulders long enough to turn toward the corner of the ring and fall forward. The Big L bounces away from the point of impact, stumbling back with one foot on each side of his resilient foe, before finally falling down near the middle of the ring. Groggily, the Virginian slowly begins to climb to his feet while Strike sneers down at him. Once The Big L is standing, Chris turns him around and doubles him over with a toe kick. He quickly applies a front facelock, but when he goes for the leg Lenton blocks, hooking his ankles with Strike’s. Knowing what his foe’s intentions are, Steve drills him in the ribs, before spinning free, pivoting on his feet, and turning with a GAME CHANGER! Lenton misses, but comes back with the AUDIBLE version. He misses, as Chris strafes to his back. Lenton turns… Chris Strike leaps into the air and grapples him around the head, bringing his knees up to pull Lenton down into the NARUKAMI - Steve’s head collides with the knees!

The Big L doesn’t go down though. He simply is reduced to one knee, eyes glazed and mouth agape, perturbing Strike who can’t believe his foe’s resiliency. Thinking on his feet, Strike climbs to a vertical base and runs for the ropes. Upon rebounding he lunges forward, only for Steve Lenton to suddenly come alive. He rams his massive shoulder into Strike’s chest, and the gunshot kindred collision sends him flying to the canvas. The audience goes into pandemonium, as the fan-favorite drops down, collapsing onto his opponent’s chest as Chris Dawson drops into place - the crowd shouts out in unison with his count.

Dick Morosi: 3:00! OUT OF NOWHERE!

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

Seth Ericson: HE DID IT! Steve Lenton just... I-I- I can't believe it!

As the bell rings out, David Zinkus picks up the microphone again and announces the result.

David Zinkus: The winner of this match, by pinfall, STEVEEEEEEE LENTON!

WINNER: "THE BIG L" STEVE LENTON

Dick Morosi: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! HE DID IT! THE BIG L HAS DEFEATED CHRIS STRIKE, BY GOD!

Seth Ericson: I'm...I'm speechless.

Dick Morosi: That is ALL you need to hear to know how big this is! The number one contender AND the World champion have BOTH fallen to The Big L! I don't think any man alive can deny it...The Big L deserves a shot!

Seth Ericson: I...just...wow...

Dick Morosi: Let's savor this moment of Seth silence and go backstage to Tom Matheny.

We now cut to backstage area where Tom Matheny stands, microphone in hand. An ‘EX PRO on FX’ banner hanging behind him Matheny begins to speak.

Tom Matheny: We’ve had an amazing show already and right now it delights me that I am being joined by our Interim Director, Christian H. Kane.

The camera pans out to reveal the former EXODUS Pro wrestler dressed in a navy blue suit standing next to Tom Matheny.

Tom Matheny: Now Mr. Kane I was informed you had a few announcements to make, is that correct?

Christian nods before starting.

Christian H. Kane: That’s right, yes. It’s nothing that warranted going out to the ring, I mainly look to run the show from backstage in my office but yeah, I have a few announcements, two in fact. First of all, we all know the reason that I am the Interim Director of EXODUS Pro Wrestling, Jonathan Collins, the full time Director took a leave of absence from the position to join the main roster to deal with some business - that business being Jerry Matthews. Over the past few weeks there have been rumours going back and forth regarding what kind of match they’ll be having, so at Battle Without Honor Or Humanity I’m officially announcing that their match will be...Last Man Standing. It seems fitting, I’ve spoken to both of them individually and they’ve agreed to it, so it’s done.

A faint cheer from the crowd can be heard as Matheny brings the microphone back to his lips.

Tom Matheny: I’m sure that’ll be an incredible match, one that we’ve been waiting a long time to come around. And your other announcement?

Christian H. Kane: My other announcement? Well, it’s pretty simple and it’s actually more of a specific announcement to an individual. Brett Sands, it’s called the Honor Cup for a reason. Getting yourself intentionally disqualified and eliminating yourself doesn’t sit well with me, so in two weeks expect me to personally deal with you. That’s it.

Tom Matheny: Mr Kane, thank you for your time.

Christian H. Kane: My pleasure.

With that, the show fades to commercial.