E-Pro Television Episode #4

Hard open on the stern visage of the Boss Man, Jon Collins. He stands in the concrete confines of the RIMAC’s parking structure, dressed sharply. He still had to run this place, even if he was itching to get into the spandex and have one more match. But something drew his attention...

That would be the woman standing beside him. Fiona Rourke, the Strong Style Pixie. She reaches out, patting Jon on the shoulder.

Fiona Rourke: Relax, Captain. They’re not gonna show up first thing at the show. You know they never usually do.

Jonathan Collins: But-

A door to the building opens, and out piles the troops. The cameraman turns, aiming the thing at the crowd coming out... Every face a pro wrestler. Every one of them a contracted person for Exodus Pro wrestling. Abby Park was there. And Jafreese Frazier. Daniel Prophet. Johnny Cannon. Alex Brooks. Orange Octopus and Silver Squid were conspicuously there, their foam-rubber heads sticking up out of the crowd. In fact, it was the entire roster, sans a short list of names.

Starmakers Limited’s two-man power trip, the Space Pharoah Zortalk and Omar Wise. Daisuke Iwakuma. Itsumo Ichi. Kliff Ulysses.

Jonathan Collins: Whether you all like one another or hate one another, we’re all in this to make money and put on a good wrestling show, right?

A grumbled chorus of “yeah” and “sure” and “money is good” and an Octopus-scented “Hey Abby, can I see down your shirt?” goes up. Jon narrows his eyes, but Fiona steps up.

Fiona Rourke: WE’RE ALL HERE TO BE PRO WRESTLERS, RIGHT?!

YEAH!

Fiona smirks and glances to Jon, who just nods appreciatively to his girl.

Jonathan Collins: So, if any of you all find someone involved in this weird stalking thing, these Youtube games, or any other stuff aimed at bringing this company down and losing you all your jobs, you’ll let me know?

Another mumbled chorus of “okay” and “I’m hungry” and “WHERE THE WHITE WOMEN AT?!” and “YES SIR” goes up. Jon sighs heavily, looking to Fiona... As a BMW 725i pulls into the parking garage, heading straight for the mass of bodies. It wasn’t racing in or anything, intent on casualties... But it was conspicuous by its aim. Jon steps to the side, moving on over to talk to the driver. The car pulls up, and the tinted window rolls down...

Donovan Torment: So. How much if we all go party-style?

Jonathan Collins: Very classy, Donovan. We were talking about being in this together, since this is our company.

Donovan Torment: Well.

He puts the car into park, and pops the door, climbing on out. The passenger and backseat doors both open, and Zortalk slips out of shotgun, Omar Wise out of the back. The whole car lurches and shakes when Omar clambers from the thing. The big man is dressed in trackpants and a light windbreaker, all gray and dark green. Zortalk is dressed in an elegant Space Egyptian robe that looks mysteriously much like a finely crafted Mexican poncho, an overdramatic headdress and a pair of expensive counterfeit sunglasses.

Donovan Torment: Far be it for me to defy orders, MISTER Collins. You get the brute squad on up, and we’ll be good little boys. Let me just get the chains...

Donovan pops the trunk with the keyfob, heading for the back of the car. Collins steps around the car door, heading for Donovan’s side, but Omar has already moved in the way of the Manager of Kings.

Omar Wise: I’m not wearing any more chains.

Torment glances to Collins, smiling helplessly, and scurries to the back of the car, grabbing up the bag of chains and manacles from the trunk.

Donovan Torment: Hey, listen, we-

Omar Wise: The joke has run its course. I AIN’T WEARING CHAINS.

The moment between Torment and Wise is a tense one. The big man loomed menacingly over Torment, before Jonathan Collins, sick of this shit, stepped in.

Jonathan Collins: GENTLEMEN. I don’t want you to wear any chains. In fact, Omar, I’m not even gonna give you a security detail this show. On top of that, I think you get the damn point.

Both Donovan and Omar look to Collins, confusion written on their face. Zortalk swaggers over, standing beside his big Breacher buddy. Omar glances to Zortalk, then back to Jon.

Jonathan Collins: Look, Omar. We’ve had our differences in the past. I know you and Donovan don’t think too highly of me. But between this stalker watching me, Fiona and Madison, these videos promising change and violence... I don’t know what to think. But I know that SOMEONE wishes ill for Exodus Pro.

Collins steps up to Omar, a finger coming out to tap on Omar’s breast, just above his heart.

Jonathan Collins: And I know you are thinking of yourself as an E-Pro guy deep in here. You want to be the World Champion of somewhere, not the man who closed a company’s doors. So I want to let you do that.

Now listen...people don’t realize what Daisuke’s endgame is. He and I have a connection I can’t exactly explain to all of you just yet. The fact is, Daisuke plans on bringing great evil into this company...people that you don’t quite realize just how dangerous they are. I’m looking at all of you to join me in making sure this does not happen. If he gets one inch, just one inch, then the LEGION wins.

Omar Wise: Whether someone wants t’ kill this place or not... I’m jus’ assumin’ all the videos come from one group. And they said they intended to make the Assault Breacher Vehicle fall. If they wanted t’ get me on their bad side... They succeeded.

Omar gives a firm nod, and looks around the parking lot, then to the crowd.

Omar Wise: I don’t trust any of these new hires. Any one of ‘em could be Mister Video Man. And on top o’ dat, I don’t know about you and your management. Your leadership. Your girl. But I know that you’re a better payin’ boss than any others I’ve had. And I’m doin’ well for myself here. I’m gonna stick around here, make my name for myself with this place. An’ the only way the Assault Breacher Vehicle is gonna fall to these suckas is if they get a much bigger tank.

Jonathan Collins: It’s nice to know that even if they have an army... We have an Omar.

Zortalk leanes on Omar’s shoulder, arms crossed, shades still pushed up.

Zortalk: There’s no glory to be gained in chasing a child, man. By haunting the innocent, all you’re doing is tarnishing your own soul. Omar and Fiona are gonna fight, no doubt... But we’re all about the paradigm of glorious combat, not the shadow of lurking doom. The Space Pharoah works for Exodus Pro, despite the Biblical conflict. Space Egypt will form an Alliance with the Exodus.

Donovan Torment: Besides, why would we want to give up a stable paycheck? No, Starmakers Limited is definitely joining up with Hashtag Exodus Assemble.

Collins glances over to his significant other, who has both eyes locked on Omar Wise.

Fiona Rourke: Omar, I think you’re a bully and you’re not half as nasty as you think you are. But I’d rather have you by my side than behind me... Or against me.

Omar nods, face blank. He could accept those thoughts.

And then, another car came rolling into the lot. This one was different from the BMW. This was a jet-black sports car, all flashy and fancy... the car was simply more expensive than what should have been driven by a wrestler that wasn’t working big time companies. And it came rolling up and into the group, stopping just short of Omar Wise. Omar resolutely refused to move, standing directly in the car’s path. The thing even ended up pressing its bumper against Omar’s knees.

The ABV just put his hands on his hips, looking through the windshield. He could see very well who it was. And Daisuke Iwakuma and Kliff Ulysses hop out of the main seats of the car, driver and shotgun. Uncomfortably, Itsumo Ichi and Audrey Lloris slip out of the backseat, a tiny half-sized area perfect for one grocery bag or one child, not two adults.

Daisuke Iwakuma: What a welcoming reception. Hello, Collins-san. Donovan. Omar. Fiona.

Fiona bristles, fists clenching and teeth clamping shut. Before Fiona can come in and start ripping Daisuke a new one, Jon steps up to the plate.

Jonathan Collins: If I can prove that you’re behind this stalking stuff, first I’m gonna fire you. Then, heaven help me, I will beat you to a pulp, our sensai will spend weeks being forced to put you back together, Daisuke. What Fiona does to you tonight will be only a fraction of the hell I will put you though.

Jon glances across the car, a hand jabbing out to point at Kliff.

Jonathan Collins: And that goes double for you.

Fiona finally blows past Jon, fists shaking.

Fiona Rourke: Daisuke, I’m gonna stretch the truth out of you in that ring. If you’re doing this, if you want a fight, I’ll give it to you tonight. No mystery necessary.

Daisuke barks a laugh out, glancing around to his allies. Audrey chimes in musically. Kliff just smirks humorlessly, running a hand across the top of the car.

Fiona Rourke: And you, Kli-

As Fiona boils around the car, heading for Ulysses, she is all full of piss and vinegar, ready to explode on this dude’s ego. But just before reaching the Humanoid Typhoon, Fiona is interrupted.

There is a wall in her way now.

Omar Wise: Forget the Pixie. Forget Collins. Forget Daisuke and anything else.

Omar levels a sausagelike finger at Kliff.

Omar Wise: Tonight. You.

Kliff leans forward, a cocky grin on his lips.

Kliff Ulysses: Me? Why, Omar... I’m flattered. But after I’ve got you turning purple in the face with a Lotus Dream, I think tonight... You.

Omar Wise: You aren’t listenin’ clearly to me, Kliff. So let me say this real plain and simple, so even you ain’t gonna get confused.

Omar leans closer, his big skull coming within the personal bubble. Stranger Danger. Kliff was no coward, he’d never back down from taking a man apart with his own two hands. But the sight of Omar coming in, easily within headbutt range... Even Kliff Ulysses was ever-so-slightly offput by the look Omar was giving.

Omar Wise: Tonight... I’m gonna hurt you.

Donovan Torment: And Mister Iwakuma...

Donovan walks forward, coming up beside Omar and leaning against the immobile pillar of might beside him. Kliff Ulysses narrows his eyes and clenches both fists, glancing over to Daisuke. The Perfect Evil just snickered, reaching over to pat Kliff on the shoulder. The Humanoid Typhoon wasn’t about to start something without Disuke backing him up. And Daisuke was too confident in what was going on for Kliff to want to jump the gun and ruin Daisuke’s scheme.

Donovan Torment: I have some business to discuss with you. Our little... Arrangement? A mutual partnership? Yeah, that is not so beneficial to Starmakers Limited anymore. With your tarnished reputation and these accusations levelled against you, I’m just not sure you’re... prime material to team with. We’re just gonna go our way, and you go yours.

Donovan offers a smarmy grin, reaching into that violently red-shade of jacket, then slid a piece of paper out of the thing. It was bright pink, and was all the legalese associated with terminating someone’s employment and contract. It was snapped into Donovan’s fingertips... And extended over to Daisuke.

Donovan Torment: So, Daisuke. Bubeleh. I’m gonna have to go ahead and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.

There’s a hanging silence as Rourke, Omar, Iwakuma, and Ulysses stand in their little pairings. Fiona had come back over to shoot hatedaggers from her eyes at Daisuke. Daisuke took the pink slip, inspecting it. Kliff and Omar were doing the tough-guy eyefight. In another time, they could have been Samurai pre-duelling against each other... Even Audrey Lloris was sneering at Donovan, who winked at the lady.

To the side, Space Pharoah Zortalk and Itsumo Ichi were even halfheartedly posturing against one another, ready to jump into a fight if need be. Zortalk was gripping an elaborate scepter made to look like a golden cobra, and Ichi was glancing between Zortalk, Daisuke, Kliff, Omar... It was enough to make a head spin.

BANG

The moment of testosterone-fuelled intensity was broken by the sound of the double doors into the arena being shoved open. Emerging from the arena are the only three people it seemed were still inside; UCSD representative Stewart Q. Gadlin, his secretary Taryn Graves...and EXODUS Pro owner Rufus Frost. Frost was in a very classy-looking suit, a powerful steel gray number with a power tie. He looked like style met class and had a baby capable of putting Wall Street on a cute little leash. The wrestlers, the group by the car and every single person on the roster were immediately bumped down a step on the List-Of-Importance. There was a new top man. Frost’s voice echoes throughout the parking garage as the trio walk toward the group.

Rufus Frost: Enough. All four of you, calm down. Mr. Torment, restrain your client, Ms. Lloris, I suggest you do the same to yours.

He finishes as the three reach Jonathan Collins, who’s apprehensive at best around Gadlin. The Director of E-Pro keeps shooting glances at the quartet now behind him, but his full attention is on his boss in front of him.

Jonathan Collins: Rufus...Stewie...

Gadlin fake launches toward Jon, but stops short, looking at Taryn, who half-jokingly, half-serious “holds him back.” Rufus nods at his “top” employee.

Rufus Frost: This entire incident has gotten a bit ridiculous. I’m going to have an announcement about these stalkers later...but in the meantime. Jon...things have gotten a bit high-strung over the last couple of weeks. It’s in the best interests of EXODUS Pro that...I’m giving you the night off.

Collins’ eyes go wide in surprise, almost bursting out of his skull like some kind of cartoon. He takes a step back, one hand running through his hair, the other shooting out to wave between him and Rufus, holding off the sentence even as it floated in the air.

Jonathan Collins: Rufus, come on. That’s ridiculous! Who’s going to run things with me gone!?

Rufus Frost: I didn’t say you were leaving, Jon. Far from it; I wouldn’t expect you to leave Miss Rourke here by herself against Daisuke. You’re allowed in the building, you can make decisions regarding EXODUS, but...you’re not handling anything that comes up tonight. That...will be in the hands of Mr. Gadlin here.

If his eyes were almost out of his skull before, Jonathan Collins’ eyes would now be somewhere six feet away, and still attached to his head. His arms go into overdrive, and he begins to wave them about as much as possible. Frantic, thy name was Jonathan Collins.

Jonathan Collins: Are you KIDDING ME? Stewie? In charge of this show? Instead of me? This is nuts, man! You’re off your rocker, Rufus! There has to be a better so-

One man in the crowd raises a hand, one index finger extended upward.

Donovan Torment: I co-

Rufus Frost, Jonathan Collins, Stewart Gadlin, Daisuke Iwakuma, Kliff Ulysses, Fiona Rourke, Omar Wise and Audrey Lloris: No.

The gaze of Rufus Frost narrows as he looks his Director up and down.

Rufus Frost: I’d probably prefer to put someone more capable in charge, but with you in this state, and Riley in England, he’s the next best option I have without taking away our senior official or backstage interviewer. I have final say over what Mr. Gadlin does, and his power reaches a very short way.

Stewart, for his part, had stayed silent up to this point, but he made a concerted effort to grin smugly at Jonathan Collins.

Stewart Gadlin: Don’t worry, Jon...EXODUS is in safe hands! Very safe hands! ...THE SAFEST HAND-

Rufus reaches a hand up, stopping Gadlin in his tracks.

Rufus Frost: That’ll be enough, Mr. Gadlin.

He looks at the still assembled crowd of personnel milling about uncertainly. Even the blackshirted Exodus Pro security members(And conspicuous in front of the security crew, closest to get into the action, should there be any, was Johnny Lee Richwine.)

Rufus Frost: EVERYONE... INSIDE! We’ve got a show to put on!

The wrestlers all head inside.

Of course, Omar Wise and Kliff Ulysses...Fiona Rourke and Daisuke Iwakuma... They all refuse to take their eyes off of each other.

The feed opens up to a children's playground, as the camera immediately zooms in on a figure by the swing-set as he rocks back and fourth aimlessly with his head titled askew. As he rebounds from his current rock forward, his feet suddenly slam onto the gravel, causing his momentum to cease. He purposelessly kicks the unconsolidated mixture of rock and pebbles while his eyes remained trained at on his lower extremities, appearing to be locked in a deep, dark corner of his subconscious. However after a brief moment, the commotion of feet beating into rock subsides as the figure rises from the his seat. He walks forward toward the camera, only to stop and survey the area, his eyes darting from the slide, to the jungle gym, and all the way to the sand-box. Seemingly taking a nostalgia trip, he breathes deeply, before speaking in a sullen tone.

Man: The joy... the jubilation... do you remember your childhood? This is where the magic happened... this is the proverbial fun factory that we looked forward to during our adolescence. Every school day we'd stare at the clock with obsessive anticipation, waiting for the school bell to chime it's final time so we could burst through the doors, often trampling one another so we could be the first to climb the monkey bars, to play hopscotch and jump rope or ride down the slides. Recess was the most important part of our childhood, and it is here where some our fondest memories were carved in our minds, etched in stone forever.

The brooding figure slowly plods toward the slide, taking a moment to look over the structure before gradually ascending up the ladder. He momentarily closes his eyes whilst washing his hand over it, the gesture causing those aforementioned memories to quickly comeback. Opening his eyes again, he stares into the camera with his face completely impassive and devoid of emotion.

Man: Fond memories, or maybe suppressed nightmares... For every child that gleefully played in this playground, there was one child that was getting beaten up by bullies because he learned at a quicker pace than everyone else... because he came from a different ethnic or social background... because his name was unique... When we were young, we couldn't wait for recess, to get out here and have the time of our lives... but that meant for some of us the constant humiliation, the constant abuse, the constant teasing and being picked last or never at all to play sports or ever getting chosen as the goose to go chase after the duck. No... for some of us this wasn't a playground for innocent children, this was hell on earth and the beginning of our downward spirals into sadness, self-hatred and misfortune.

What do I remember about my childhood? I remember the scars, the mental and physical scars that I've carried my entire life... they're my keepsake, my mementos, my souvenirs... They're tokens that cannot be lost or given back. I hold them like a grudge, or a burden, they're the weight of the world and I am Atlas.

So what is my greatest souvenir? Was it the divorce of my parents at my young, impressionable age? Was it the death of my grandmother, the woman that had taken on the role of my guardian for most of my life because my parents were abrasive and incoherent? No... my greatest souvenir was watching as countless children stood at the top of THIS slide, on the proverbial mountain, filled with joy and completely elated. I merely dreamed that one day I could overcome the affliction and the pain, and some day join them, and feel what it was like... to taste that euphoria. That hope... that sense of entitlement...THAT was the greatest fallacy of all.

He slowly slides down, only to remain seated at the bottom; as his words reverberate in the back of his mind, he contemplates his next ones. He places his hands on his laps, once again staring into the camera with a face that was vacant of emotion and feeling.

Man: I'm the physical embodiment of those children that never got to ride down the slide during recess and went on to fulfill their destiny as outcasts and pariahs in high school, and so were never invited to parties and gatherings by the self-absorbed 'in-crowd'. I'm the physical embodiment of girls that cut themselves in bathroom stalls because they were picked on by the cliques full of snobbish females and told they weren't pretty, or cool enough because they didn't own every name brand. I'm the physical embodiment of the defenseless kids who were stuffed in lockers, and were consistently humiliated and made a fool of by inarticulate jocks who hit growth spurts in ninth grade and consequently got cushioned grades from teachers because they played Neanderthal sports.

I embody their pain... their misfortune... their sorrow and depression... and I will use it against all of you... you people who enjoyed your childhood while the rest of us were abashed and mortified. I've become a professional wrestler because I enjoy beating on people like you... the bullies, the prom queens... the rich kids. I'm going to show you what pain is...

He climbs back to his feet, slowly approaching the camera. He grabs it, pulling it closer to his face, his expressionless, emotionless mug. He pondered his thoughts once more, his mind a menagerie of chaos and pain.

Man: The hands are the windows to the soul... and I will show you what lies beneath my flesh and bones. And like guns my hands will turn your world into my personal Columbine.

And I will be your reckoning...

Tag Team Match
The Icy Rebels (Danielle Tyler & Tiami Tyler) vs. Steve Lenton & Michael Alexander

David Zinkus: Coming to the ring, from Canton Ohio, at a combined weight of 232 pounds, The Icyyyy Rebeeeels!

"Hyena" hits the PA and out come the Icy Rebels. Tiami looks at Danielle, both sharing a smile as they head down the ramp and posing with fans for cameras everywhere to see. The pair slide in the ring, giving high fives ot each other and then fixing each others crowns as they await their opponents.

David Zinkus: And their opponents, entering first, from Hampton Virginia by way of Washington D.C., weighing in at 255 pounds, Steeeeve Lentonnnnn!

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 "Napalm" by Xzibit blares. 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.

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.

The fans continue to cheer as the song begins to break down. Lenton 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.

David Zinkus: Entering last, from Sydney Australia, weighing in at 190 pounds, Michaeeeel Alexandeeeeer!

"We Are" by Hollywood Undead begins to play throughout the arena as the lights begin to flash blue. "We Are, We Are" echoes as Michael Alexander makes his way out to the stage. The tron has the word "Kuakuwatsu" on the screen and Michael points up at it, smiling. Wasting no time, he makes a beeline straight for the ring, sliding into it and getting to his feet. Looking around the arena for a moment, Michael holds his fist in the air as his music dies down.

Dick Morosi: Interesting match this one here. Steve Lenton alone outweighs The Icy Rebels combined.

Seth Ericson: Numbers don't lie and they spell disaster for them. I don't know where I heard this, though.

Tiami Tyler starts for the Icy Rebels while Steve Lenton opposes on the other corner. They both circle each other for a while until they both grapple. The Big L has the advantage, pushing Tiami viciously against the mat. She stays a while on the ground looking at Lenton while he awaits for her to get up.

Dick Morosi: This guy is too strong. Look at that physique compared to Tiami...and to Danielle for that matter.

Seth Ericson: Wanted to be a wrestler? That's your price to pay, bud.

Tiami gets up and complains that Lenton was grabbing her hair. Lenton tries to explain to the referee, moment that Tiami seizes and starts hitting Lenton with wild punches, kicks, and chops. Tyler continues with the attack until Lenton is in the corner trying to defend himself. Tiami goes for a big punch but Lenton blocks it and looks intensely to her eyes. She starts to back off while Lenton starts stalking her, visibly mad for the attack of Tiami. She runs to Danielle and tags her in.

Dick Morosi: I would've ran too.

Seth Ericson: Yes, because you're a girl.

Danielle enters the ring and tries to surprise Lenton with a clothesline, but Lenton doesn't fall. Lenton tells Tyler to try the other ropes, which Tyler runs to and connects Lenton with a clothesline. He still doesn't move an inch from where he was standing. Lenton tells her to try again. Tyler runs against the ropes and Lenton tries to surprise her with a Running Kitchen Sink, which Tyler reverses and turns into a School Boy!

Dick Morosi: She has the cover...one, two. Just two. That was a great reversal by Danielle!

Seth Ericson: And now she gets up and Lenton levels her with a Stiff Right Hand. Bet that wasn't great for her.

Lenton grabs Danielle by her legs and drags her into the corner where he tags Michael Alexander in. Alexander starts to kick her in the midsection and legs. He runs to the ropes and hist Danielle with an Running Elbow. He wants the

cover.

ONE!

Tiami interrupts the cover with a kick to the head of Alexander. He gets up and looks at Tiami who runs to her corner. He starts walking and talking towards her. He's not aware that Danielle is getting up slowly behind him. Michael finishes talking smack to Tiami and when he turns, he's received by a Standing Dropkick from Danielle. Michael grabs his chin and gets up again just to be leveled with another Standing Dropkick. This time, Alexander stands up a little groggy. Danielle grounds him once again with a Standing Dropkick from which he doesn't stand. Danielle turns his back to him and hits him with a Standing Moonsault. The cover is in place...

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Danielle helps Alexander up and pushes him into her corner. She tags Tiami in and they start assaulting with kicks on the anatomy of Michael Alexander. Danielle gets out and Tiami goes to the third rope, sitting on the top corner. She grabs Alexander by his head on a front face lock and launches herself forward, trying to connect with a Tornado DDT. Alexander reverses the move midway, throwing her face first to the center of the ring. Tiami grabs her face and midesection while she gets up. Tiami runs towards Alexander as Alexander receives her with a Belly To Belly Suplex!

Dick Morosi: Tiami landed nasty on her back.

Seth Ericson: Maybe she likes it like that.

Dick Morosi: Wha...

Alexander tags Lenton in. Lenton grabs Tiami and throws her to the ropes, Tiami rebounds and she's received with a Bicycle Kick than lands square on her jaw. Lenton goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Lenton applies a reverse chinlock on Tiami. Tiami tries to create some space between his arms and her neck but Lenton applies more pressure. Tiami looks desperate and tries to get out of the hold but Lenton doesn't want to let go. Danielle steps in the ring and Lenton breaks the hold, turning the focus to her.

Dick Morosi: Why did he break the hold? That was Danielle's purpose when she entered the ring!

Seth Ericson: You don't say...

Lenton feigns like he was going to attack Danielle, making Daniel stumble to the ground and exiting the ring. Lenton laughs while turning to continue the attack on Tiami. Lenton grabs Tiami by the hair but Tiami reverses into a small package!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Lenton rapidly stands up as Tiami does the same. Lenton tries to impact Tiami with a Rolling Lariat but Tiami dodges and rebounds on the ropes catching Lenton without balance and dropping him with a Shoulder Tackle. She sits on top of Lenton and starts punching him every way possible. Tiami stands and goes on to stand on the third rope, waiting for Lenton to get up. Lenton gets up and Tiami connects with a Missile Dropkick! Lenton goes down as big as he is. Tiami gets up struggling a bit as Lenton starts moving around. Tiami tags Danielle in and she starts waiting for Lenton to get up. Lenton gets up with help of the ropes and when he turns around...

Dick Morosi: LIGHT MY FIRE!

Seth Ericson: That's a simple Superkick, c'mon now.

Dick Morosi: I think this is it. The cover...one, two, but Lenton kicks out at the end. Danielle looks frustrated.

Danielle walks towards a corner and starts measuring Lenton as he begins to slowly stand up. Lenton turns around and Danielle tries to connect with a Spear, but Lenton raises a knee and impacts Danielle on the face. He picks Danielle up and applies a devastating Death Valley Driver. Lenton begins to measure Danielle now. Danielle takes her time on standing up just to be received with the Game Changer!

Dick Morosi: High Impact Lariat by Steve Lenton. That has to be it. One, two, but Danielle puts a foot on the ropes.

Seth Ericson: How many steroids does Lenton have to consume before finishing this match?

Dick Morosi: That's not great commentary, Seth.

Seth Ericson: The pot calling the kettle black.

Lenton tags Michael in. Michael stands Danielle up and drops her with a Russian Leg Sweep. Michael goes for the cover.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT!

Michael locks up the Cobra Clutch on Danielle. He applies more pressure as the seconds pass by and Danielle begins to fade away. He positions himself looking at Tiami so that she doesn't attack him behind his back. Danielle looks like she's falling asleep so the referee begins to check her arm for response.She lets if fall down once. The referee checks her arm once again, but it falls down once again.

Dick Morosi: The count is on two. One more and this is over.

Seth Ericson: Thank you Captain Obvious.

The referee checks once again but this time the arm doesn't go down. She's fighting with it and begins to stand up slowly. Danielle hits Alexander with thunderous elbows to the midsection. After three of them, Michael breaks the hold. Danielle runs towards the rope, but Michael receives her with a Standing Sleeper! Danielle starts to fade once again to the mat. This time, Danielle responds faster by hitting Alexander with elbows. Danielle runs towards the ropes and Alexander tries a Spear but Danielle jumps over him. Alexander rolls on the mat and gets right back. Danielle turns and Alexander runs to her just to be received by the Spear of Danielle Tyler!

Dick Morosi: Now both competitors are on the mat. This has been a hard fought battle. Who'll be the first to tag their partner in?

Seth Ericson: One of the two.

Dick Morosi: ...

Alexander and Danielle are crawling towards their respective corner. Alexander tags in Lenton and he enters rapidly to the ring. Danielle jumps from the ground and tags Tiami. Tiami and Lenton run into each other and start trading blows on each other. Lenton pushes Tiami to the ropes but she springboards on them and hit Lenton with a big Shoulder Tackle. Lenton goes to the ground but gets up. Tiami levels him with a Standing Dropkick. Lenton gets up and Tiami kicks him on the gut followed by a DDT. She covers him.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout!

Tiami signals for the victory and tries to prepare Lenton for a Package Piledriver but Lenton grabes her by the legs and makes her fall down. He doesn't let go of one of her legs while he applies a ferocious Single Leg Boston Crab!

Tiami screams with pain while Lenton tries to keep her on the center of the ring. Tiami starts crawling towards her corner, but Lenton drags her back to the center of the ring.

Dick Morosi: Lenton doesn't seem to realize that Tiami tagged Danielle in!

Seth Ericson: He'll realize it in a couple of seconds. See? Superkick by Danielle on the back of Lenton's neck. Tiami rolls out of the ring and Danielle looks for the win.

Dick Morosi: One, two...but he still kicks out!

Danielle stands up a groggy Steve Lenton and throws him against the ropes. As Lenton hits the ropes, Michael smacks Lenton on the back, tagging in. Danielle tries to hit Lenton with a clothesline but Lenton ducks. Michael gets in the ring. Danielle bends down to toss Lenton with a back toss, but Lenton kicks her on the arm.

Dick Morosi: Lenton landed a huge kick on Danielle's arm! Lenton is rolling out of the ring. Michael Alexander is turning Danielle around...ANIMAL INSTINCT! Out of nowhere!

Seth Ericson: Actually, out of somewhere.

Dick Morosi: Alexander is applying pressure on the flying armbar. This is over! Danielle is tapping out!

David Zinkus: The winners via submission, STEVE LENTON AND MICHAEL ALEXANDER!

WINNERS: Lenton & Alexander

Backstage, Tom Matheny's got an extra-wide camera angle, as he's surrounded by five new faces to EXODUS Pro! To his left are Ms. Heather Halliwell of PDW, Michael Alexander (fresh out of his debut), and noted journeyman (currently in FGA among others) Dom Harter. On his right; Bryan Axel and Summer, who herself is fresh off a win. Matheny glances at the two groups around him before beginning.

Tom Matheny: It's been a big night so far here at E-Pro TV, but right now I'm joined by five competitors who are looking ahead to March of War! The Twitter Invitational, where the winner of this six-person elimination match gets a guaranteed shot at Fiona Rourke! Let's start down here on the end, with you; Dom Harter!

Tom steps past Halliwell to get to Dom, who waits for a moment before speaking.

Dom Harter: One match, one shot they said, to earn a shot at the Exodus Pro International Championship. To walk into a strange new promotion and face five of the hottest, the brightest, the sharpest wrestlers on the independent circuit today. That was the deal ... What do I get?

Dom looks around at his upcoming opponents, an impassive look on his face.

Dom Harter: I get to face five of Exodus Pro's newest signings trying to get a foot in the door. To take the easy way out, as it seems to me ... Tell me I'm wrong. What? You wouldn't do that, you'll earn your title shots here like good boys and girls. You …

He points to Michael Alexander.

Dom Harter: ...with your flash and pizazz, driving your fancy cars and going through life ignoring your complete lack of substance. And you...

Dom gestures towards Summer, a smile creeping upon his face

Dom Harter: ...doing your best to drive the men wild, your little panda eyes enough to make these guys go gaga for you. I don't see it, talent wise you're not a touch on Halliwell here. What is it, do you have beer flavored nipples or something? And you...

Dom turns to Bryan Axel, a confused look crosses his face before he turns back to face Heather Halliwell.

Dom Harter: ...Who's that?

Heather shrugs as Tom Matheny steps over to Michael Alexander.

Tom Matheny: Michael Alexander, big win earlier tonight over the Icy Rebels; your thoughts?

Michael Alexander: I've said it before and I will say it again. If you come at the king, you best not miss.

Tom steps away from Michael, and over to the other two.

Tom Matheny: Short and sweet from the man who calls himself fearless! Miss Summer, you also pulled out a win in your debut! Your thoughts on this upcoming Invitational?

Summer: I'm pumped, Mr. Matheny! Like seriously... I was BORN READY for this moment!! And I know, seriously, I know that I respect each and every person in this match equally for their contributions to this sport I love...

She pauses for a second, blushing as she looks over at Bryan Axel.

Summer: Okay, maybe not totally equally because... y'know... there's someone in this that I have some very strong feelings for that aren't just respect. And no, that's not a distraction. It's going to be an inspiration just like it is for our very own International Champion Fiona Rourke and Mr. Collins himself. I've got this! I've said all my prayers. I took my vitamins, ate my Cocoa Krispies because Wheaties are disgusting, bought the jumbo pack of Big League Chew and I've been busting my ass in the gym with my best friend and the best trainers in the entire universe to get to this point!! Me standing here right now and telling you how it's going to be isn't empty hype. I'm here to win. I can back that claim with talent. With skill. With desire. With an undefeated streak against others who said the same lines about being the best who then choked on their own stupid egos, crashed and burned. There's also someone in this that I really, really, really hate with the fire of a gazillion suns. I'm sure you know about the drama that's been going down on the Internet this week. I don't think I'm alone in that hate either. Being a douche on Twitter doesn't mean you're a good wrestler and if "Psycho" Alexander over there thinks he's going to waltz to a victory without breaking a sweat against REAL competition... or if he thinks that he can psych me out by making crazy person threats behind closed doors... he's got another thing coming! BOOM HEADSHOT, B-!

Tom quickly yanks the microphone away and moves right on before Summer can finish.

Tom Matheny: Mr. Axel, the floor is yours!

Bryan Axel: So as it seems I've got my first wresting match courtesy of Exodus Wrestling and their Twitter Invitational. It's something I never thought would happen but luckily for me it has. I'm new to the wrestling world...

Don't let that make you think I'm an easy target because I am not!

I know how to fight and I learnt a thing or two while in prison for six years. Yes that's right I was in prison for six years. Let's just say what I did was justified after all my best friend deserved it. Well he use to be my best friend but not any more.

Let's just say the ultimate betrayal happened which lead to me beating him to within an inch of his life. Something that he deserved and something I wouldn't change even if I could. I don't care if you think it makes me a bad man...

What would you do if you found your best friend with your girlfriend whose the mother of your child?

There is no way in hell that you would turn the other cheek. I just did what any angry man would. Obviously my daughter wasn't there, I'm not a monster!

Enough about that anyway before I end up ripping some poor soul whose nearby apart. I'll just save all this pent up anger for the Twitter Invitational.

I may not be the best wrestler but I sure as hell am the best damn fighter. I could knock you out with these two fists here. Hell I could use these same two fists to lock in a submission and make you tap out like a...

He pauses, remembering how Summer was just cut off.

Bryan Axel: Point is, that I maybe entering this for experience but it doesn't mean I don't want to win. As far as I'm concerned this is just business... When it comes to business I plan on taking care of it. Win or lose I will be taking most of you down with me!

I'm not someone to talk bull on Twitter but I've noticed a lot of people do. Good for you lot but please get a damn life! As for me I'll do my talking here in Exodus Wrestling. I'll always keep business as business. On Twitter I don't consider that talking part of business it's what your allocated time is for in Exodus... Time where you get to say what you have to say to your opponent.

I'm sorry to the people who don't think the same but as I respect your wish to do it respect mine and don't do it to me!

Good luck to all those involved in the Twitter Invitational... If I don't win then Kasey Summers sure as hell will!

Tom shrugs as he steps back over to Heather Halliwell.

Tom Matheny: Calling his shots, Bryan Axel, saying he thinks Summer will win if he doesn't! Miss Halliwell...your response to that?

Heather smiles at her competitors, listening, nodding intently at all they have to say. She waits for a moment, pondering each face, before bringing the mic to her lips.

Heather Halliwell: Listening to you, it reminds me of my younger days as a newcomer in this business. 12 years goes by so fast. I can promise you all one thing: You never know where your journey is going to take you. You all have so much to learn, so much to experience. I envy you children that.

But all of you share one thing in common, one thing that will bring you all to your knees before me as I stand the victor at the end of this Twitter Invitational. Your young minds have you convinced that you are invincible, untouchable... My veteran status over you youngins' will prove otherwise. Pride cometh before the fall, and all five of you have egos enough to fill this building.

I'm not going to make grand promises to win this match, to claim glory for myself. I'm simply here to represent PDW and show the world what Platinum talent looks like. I will assure you that I'm confident in my chances and I like my odds at coming out the victor. It's Veteran vs. the Upstarts for the most part, and I look forward to showing this new era of rising stars what old-fashioned wrestling can still do in today's ring...

Heather drops the mic and holds out her arms, smiling at her younger competitors. Tom scrambles to catch the microphone before it hits the floor, but quickly composes himself.

Tom Matheny: Of course, the Twitter Invitational...six people are supposed to be in it, and Jin...Jin was supposed to be here, I understand he's had a training accid-

A voice comes in from off screen (somehow, despite the shot being so wide), cutting Tom off.

Stewart Gadlin: HOLD IT! I'VE GOT THE ANSWER!

Gadlin steps into frame from Tom's right, filling the void beside Summer and Bryan Axel with himself...and his new secretary!

Stewart Gadlin: I've talked it over with Mr. Frost, and it's in the best interests of EXODUS Pro, and himself, and everyone here to fill that spot...with my new secretary, and now the newest member of the EXODUS roster, Miss Taryn Graves!

Taryn looks directly at the camera and smiles, waving. Summer and Heather facepalm, and while Axel and Alexander don't exactly know what to do, Dom Harter has himself a good laugh at the situation.

Tom Matheny: ...Is she even on Twitter, Stewie?

Gadlin shoots a mean look at Tom.

Stewart Gadlin: That's STEWART. And she does! Tell 'em, Taryn!

Taryn Graves: It's AT-DirttyDivaTaryn! With TWO t's!

She holds up two fingers with one hand and brushes back her hair with the other.

Tom Matheny: Alright, I guess that settles it! Taryn Graves is the sixth person in the Twitter Invitational! Good luck to all of you! Back to Dick and Seth at ringside!

We cut backstage after the Jafreese Frazier and Daniel Prophet post-match brawl has been broken up. Frazier seems pretty pumped over the result, and as he's calming himself down, a shadow from the doorway can be seen.

Jonathan Collins: You know...if you had a little more of a channel for that emotion, I could see big things for you.

Jafreese Frazier: What do yo know about it? *turning his head* Mr. Collins, with all due respect--

Jonathan Collins: *interrupting* Please, call me Jonathan. And I know a lot about it. I used to be pretty hot-headed and ill tempered. If you ask people who know me, I probably still am. I just...I found a way to use it, Frazier. I found a way to make it work for me instead of making it my enemy. If you trust me, I think I can help you. *smiles*

Jafreese Frazier: What's in it for me?

Jonathan Collins: Focus. Maybe a little bit of direction. Plus, maybe it's time you found someone who really believes you can be bigger and better. I wouldn't have inked you if I didn't think you had skills, so give me a shot. You might be surprised.

Frazier stops for a moment, thinks, and after a moment...nods, extending his hand. Without hesitation, Jon shakes it and uses his other hand to pat Fraizer's shoulder.

Jonathan Collins: Good. We start tomorrow.

Collins grins and gives him a nod before walking off.

Seth Ericson: What the hell did Deathgrip just get himself into?

Singles Match
Zortalk (w/ Donovan Torment) vs. Rizzo (w/ Heidi)

Dick Morosi: Something a bit more...interesting...now, it's time for another visit from “The Space Pharaoh!”

Seth Ericson: YEAH! Love this guy, he's loopy and awesome at the same time!

Dick Morosi: You've got at least half of that down, that's for sure, Seth. Coming off a somewhat controversial loss to the Orange Octopus, he'll have his hands full with newcomer Rizzo!

David Zinkus: This match is scheduled for one fall, with a 20 minute time limit. Coming to the ring first, from Newport, Rhode Island! Weighing 233 pounds and accompanied by Heidi...RIZZO!

As "If You Want Trouble" by Nick Waterhouse starts to play, red and blue lights come on, strobing with the guitar riff. Once the rest of the instruments hit, the lights stay static and Rizzo emerges from the back. He makes his way down to the ring with his wife in tow. He waves and points at various people in the crowd who are cheering him. Rizzo makes his way to the ring and climbs in. He runs and bounces off of the ropes. He stands in the corner, stretching out his old bones and joints as he anticipates his opponent.

Seth Ericson: Look at this guy, brings his wife to the ring...what kind of idiot drags his wife to a wrestling ring?

Dick Morosi: You got me, Seth. No clue.

#OHHHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAAAH

"Oh Yeah" by Yello beings to surge, pump and throttle the arena. The pulsing beat pulses smoothly, slowly and seductively as the one, the only, the master of both space and time arrives in the area.

David Zinkus: And his opponent...from SPACE EGYPT...

#THE MOOOON
#BEAAAAUTIFUL

David Zinkus: He weighs in at 231 pounds, and is accompanied by Donovan Torment...

"The Space Pharaoh" Zortalk smiles upon the audience, waving to the fans, staff in one hand, a taxidermy cobra in the other. With slave girls on either side of him, he falls to his knees and prays to the heavens.

David Zinkus: THIS...IS THE SPACE PHARAOH...ZORTALK!

#OHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAH
#OH YEAH

He quickly sheds his Egyptian head dress and robe, allowing the his slave girls to collect them as he springs up onto the apron and bouncing above the third rope for a grand entrance. Slithering down the aisle behind this procession, almost like the fake cobra held by the slave girls, is Donovan Torment.

Seth Ericson: I was talking to Donovan, earlier-

Dick Morosi: Oh, you and he are on a first name basis, now?

Seth Ericson: You bet! D-Tor is my boy!

Dick Morosi: ...Right...

The bell rings as the two tentatively circle each other. They lock up with a collar-and-elbow tieup, but it's Zortalk who's quickly forced into the corner. As D'Artis Johnson steps in between, Donovan Torment can already be heard making his presence felt.

Donovan Torment: CLEAN BREAK, MAKE SURE IT'S CLEAN REF!

Indeed, the break is clean, and Rizzo backs into the middle of the ring. The Space Pharaoh calmly nods before slowly moving back toward his foe. They tie up again, and this time it's Zortalk pushing Rizzo back into the ropes! D'Artis again steps in, bending over to push the two apart from between them. Again...Torment.

Donovan Torment: THAT'S RIGHT, A CLEAN BREAK, CLEAN!

But with the referee blind to what's happening, Zortalk cleanly slaps Rizzo across the face! Before his opponent can react, Zortalk has bounced back to the center of the ring, motioning for Rizzo to come after him. Rizzo cautiously approaches the Pharaoh, and they lock up a third time.

Dick Morosi: Neither man has gained the upper hand so far in this contest...

Seth Ericson: Just a matter of time before Space Egypt takes over, Dick!

This time Zortalk gains the upper hand with a side headlock! Rizzo pushes him back to the ropes before shooting him off across the ring! Upon his return, Zortalk has to hop over the prone body of Rizzo, and upon a second return, he's forced to duck under a leap frog! Rizzo turns, only to find that Zortalk has stopped short and turned to meet him, catching his foe with an arm drag! Both men rise quickly, and this time it's Rizzo with an arm drag! Again both are up, and Rizzo goes low, tripping Zortalk up and going for a quick cover!

ONE!

T-KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Rizzo almost getting two with that surprise pin!

Both men are up again, and this time it's Zortalk with the trip and the pin!

ON-KICKOUT!

Both are back up again, and jump to a ready position! Fans give both men a round of applause as they ease up. One who isn't easing up, however...

Donovan Torment: GO! GET HIM! FOR SPACE EGYPT!

The words almost set off a trigger in the Pharaoh's head, and he immediately kicks Rizzo in the stomach! Zortalk quickly pulls Rizzo toward him, and before you can say “snap suplex,” that's exactly what he does! He's also quick to stand up, and begins putting the boots to the fallen Rizzo!

Seth Ericson: Hah! That's the stuff! Get 'im, Zortalk!

Dick Morosi: That's “noted unbiased commentator,” Seth Ericson, folks!

Seth Ericson: It's not MY job to be unbiased, President of the Honey Badger Fan Club!

Zortalk picks his opponent up, and looks to Irish whip him...but Rizzo holds onto the arm of Zortalk, whipping himself back around and hitting a short clothesline of sorts! The crowd cheers as Rizzo, quickly regaining his bearings, heads right over to the corner, and ascends to the top rope! As Zortalk rises, he's unaware of his opponent behind him!

Donovan Torment: DON'T TURN AR-NOOOO

But it's too late; Zortalk turns right into a missile dropkick from Rizzo! He's hit so hard that he rolls all the way back onto his stomach! Rizzo is up again, and he riles up the fans!

Seth Ericson: Look at this goofball! Goofy looking face, goofy looking haircut, goofy looking wife-

Dick Morosi: Stop that! Like you can criticize a man's wife- I've seen your girlfriend!

Seth Ericson: LIKE HELL YOU HAVE!

Rizzo steps back, waiting on the Space Pharaoh to get up...but when he does, he charges right into a quick clothesline from his opponent! Zortalk exploded from a kneeling position to knock down his foe! He's quickly up, and takes off to the ropes, coming back and leaping high into the air before crashing down onto Rizzo back first!

Dick Morosi: BIG senton splash by Zortalk! He stays on top for a cover! ONE...TWO...No! Rizzo got his shoulder up just in time!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, he got lucky there!

Dick Morosi: Lucky?

Seth Ericson: ...Yeah, the ref was counting slow, gave him a chance to get that shoulder up!

Dick Morosi: I think the count was just fine!

Seth Ericson: Psh...you would.

Zortalk agrees with Seth, perhaps hearing him through his Space Pharaoh powers, and argues with the ref for a moment, allowing Rizzo to pull himself up! Zortalk turns, and he gets scooped up into a fireman's carry! Rizzo begins to spin, getting a solid 8 or 9 spins in before dropping Zortalk to the mat!

Dick Morosi: The Flying Dutchman! Rizzo's looking to finish this match!

Seth Ericson: If he wins, that makes it two in a row that Zortalk got screwed in!

Rizzo is again heading up top, this time looking for his RimJob flying legdrop! He's about to take off, but Donovan Torment hops up on the apron, bullhorn in hand as he begins to yell at Rizzo...well, not so much yell as use the “horn” feature to draw his attention away! Torment hops down just as Zortalk charges, crushing Rizzo between his own body and the corner! Grabbing Rizzo's head, the Space Pharaoh spins the two of them around, jumping up onto the second rope before coming back off with Rizzo in a DDT!

Seth Ericson: HEY RIZZO – DON'T BE A MONOLITH! Hah! Get it, Dick?

Dick Morosi: Yes, I ge-

Seth Ericson: That's the name of the move!

Dick Morosi: I just sai-

Seth Ericson: You clearly didn't understand my advanced humor. Learned it from Zortalk himself, and now look!

Zortalk is atop the ropes, looking down at his foe, before leaping into the air with a twisting senton...

Zortalk: OHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAAAH!

He crashes down into Rizzo...and the count is academic;

ONE...

TWO.....

THREE!

David Zinkus: Here is your winner...ZORRRRRRRRRRTAAAAAAAAAALLLLKKKKK!

Dick Morosi: Big rebound win here for Zortalk! The Space Pharaoh, victorious!

Seth Ericson: One for Space Egypt! Take that, Rizzo!

WINNER: Zortalk

The camera zooms in on an empty podium somewhere inside the RIMAC Arena. Affixed to the front of the podium is a logo that shows half of the Canadian flag and half of the British Union Jack on a stylized crest beneath a red and black anarchy symbol. Behind the podium is a black curtain which is currently rustling before it parts to reveal the cerulean-hued eyes of professional wrestling's self-proclaimed Strange Animal— Larry Gowan. He speaks as an aside to someone who is clearly behind the curtain with him.

Gowan: There's nobody here. I thought you were going to invite the press?

Another voice replies to him, tinged with an unmistakable British accent.

?: I thought you said you were going to handle that?

Gowan: Did I?

He pulls out a notepad from his pocket, checking the chicken scratch upon it.

Gowan: I don't have it written down on my 'to do' list...

?: Bloody hell, Lawrence. So now we're doing a press conference without any press?

Sighing, Gowan steps out fully from behind the curtain, revealing himself to be dressed in his ring gear, over which he has donned a black blazer and a skinny lime green tie.

Gowan: So it would seem. But hey, cheer up, there's a camera guy here to record it. I'm sure the awesome people of...

He checks his notes again.

Gowan: EXODUS Pro Wrestling!!

He pauses for the crowd pop, sporting a cheesy grin that fades when there's nothing but silence.

Gowan:...are… uhm… more than willing to cut us some slack for the...

He pauses again, taking a giant breath.

Gowan: GLORIOUS ARRIVAL OF THE KNIGHTS OF ANARCHY TO COMPETE IN THE TAG TEAM TITLE GAUNTLET!! YAYYYYY!!!

He waves his hands and yells like Kermit the Frog introducing The Muppet Show.

Gowan: Making his way to the podium now, a man who needs no...

He looks down at the index card and then tosses it over his shoulder.

Gowan: Frankly, you do need an introduction, Skippy. They don't know who you are, really. They don't really even—

A long-suffering sigh comes from behind the curtain, loud enough to be picked up by the camera.

Gowan: So here he is... the man of the hour, to sweet to be sour... the legendary master of disaster... the killer... the super awesome other half of the Knights of Anarchy, a man who has so far been completely undefeated in his professional wrestling career in the United States of America... CHAUNCY NOTTINGHAM!!

He claps his hands as an instrumental of Freeze Frame by J. Geils erupts from a boombox beside the podium, complete with the sound of old school cameras. The curtains part and the other half of the KoA steps into view, dressed just as nattily as his partner. There's no smile on his face though as he takes a few steps towards the podium.

Chauncy Nottingham: This is ridiculous. I cannot do this, Lawrence.

Gowan hands him an index card which he scowls down at before lifting his head to glare at his partner.

Chauncy Nottingham: I am not going to read that. Under no circumstances will I read something that preposterous.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Gowan keeps his smile pasted on and shifts his gaze to the camera.

Gowan: That's fine; say whatever you want, then. I was just trying to help.

The younger (and some might argue more handsome) member of the Knights of Anarchy turns toward the camera and sighs, rolling his eyes.

Chauncy Nottingham: Hullo, Full Throttle Wrestling. My name's Chauncy Nottingham. Perhaps some of you have seen me wrestle elsewhere, in a place that shall henceforth remain nameless. Right, so that means this is the official announcement that the Knights of Anarchy are here and ready to—

At that precise moment the curtain falls down over Chauncy, causing him to blunder forward into the podium which topples over.

Chauncy Nottingham: BLOODY HELL!

The cameraman bursts out laughing, catching Gowan's attention just as he manages to extricate himself from the tangled velvet.

Gowan: Oh my. You can edit that last part out… right?

The camera shakes back and forth.

Camera Guy: Sorry, buddy. Rolling live.

Looking stricken, Gowan stands there for a few seconds, watching Chauncy struggle to get back up from the demolished podium. Striking a pose, Gowan does a 'jazz hands' move and then a soft-shoe shuffle.

Gowan: TA-DAAAAAA!

And the scene fades back to ringside.