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We come back from commercial to a room somewhere in an unknown location. It's barren save for a table and chair in the middle of the room, both empty. We watch this empty image for a few seconds before the lights in the room all flicker at once, obscuring the room in darkness for only a split second. When the lights return, a man sits at the table, looking at the camera. He raises one hand in a brief greeting before letting it drop, and beginning to speak.

Man: EXODUS Pro Wrestling...hello. You may refer to me by the name of Shinji Oshima. I am the Seer of the Paths, and I have returned from five years of sleep to observe your company. You do not yet realize this, at least not all of you do, but you hold an important part to play in history. Or, at least, they could. As things are...you're all too weak.

He only allows a moment's pause for it to sink in before continuing.

Shinji Oshima: If you let those words sting, then you're already aware that I'm correct. Your weakness is something I've already seen from my short time observing. But it's not the only thing I've observed. I've observed those that stand out from your weakness, that are building strength. You don't see them, but I have. Their plans, and how blind you are to them is...funny. You all stumble around, drunk off the joy of beating your G&M enemies, never realizing the enemies among you. As things are, you will all fall to those enemies. And I will observe your ends, as I have countless others.

Shinji Oshima: I see the future. It's clear as day to my sight. Usually I demand a payment of food for the usage of my abilities, but just this once I'll allow a free usage.

His eyes close, a brief moment of tension coming over his face before his eyes burst open, pupils dilating briefly before they return to normal. He frowns as he speaks again.

Shinji Oshima: "The dawning of the third year is the dawning of a new Sengoku Period."

He stands up, smoothing out his jacket as he does.

Shinji Oshima: Do with this information what you will. Whatever Path you choose does not concern me, only that it is chosen. We shall speak again, EXODUS, at some point. Perhaps over some sushi. Until then, remember my words. And, though you will likely not believe this just yet, remember this. My predictions are never wrong.

At that, the lights flicker again, and when they come back the Seer of the Paths is gone.

SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
CHANDLER SCOTT (San Diego Bay Champion) vs. DEVAN WHITMORE

She said: "He so sweet,
I wanna lick the wrapper."

So i let her lick the wrapper.

And she, she licked me
Like a lollipop
Like a lollipop

Strobe lights flash around the curtain in various colors and as the chorus hits, Devan slowly makes her way onto the stage.

Shorty wanna thug
Bottles in the club
Shorty wanna hump
You know I like to touch
Your lovely lady lumps
Shorty wanna thug
Bottles in the club
Shorty wanna hump
You know I like to touch
Your lovely lady lumps

Devan slinks her way down the ramp, shimmying in time with the music slapping hands with the fans. She slides into the ring and climbs each turnbuckle, toying with the crowd by head banging slightly and giving a rock and roll sign. She hops down as the music fades and bounces from one foot to the other in anticipation.

The sound of an organ plays throughout the arena. The lighting in the arena slowly switches to an orange hue, causing the fans to quickly shift their attention to the entrance way. As "Perfect Strangers" by Deep Purple kicks in, the crowd leaps to their feet to cheer the man that's about to walk out. At around the 30 second mark, Chandler Scott bursts through the curtain as the crowd shows its support with cheers, applause and various shrieks of excitement.

David Zinkus: And coming to the ring...he is the Exodus Pro San Diego Bay Champion...he is CHANDLER SCOTT!

As Chandler makes his way to the ring, he throws up both index fingers in the air as he swaggers his way to the ring. After climbing up onto the apron, Chandler steps through the ropes, springboards up onto the second ropes and poses once more, basking in his glory.

Scott and Whitmore circle the ring. They circle the ring again. Whitmore steps toward the center and Scott follows. Tentatively, both competitors leap into a collar and elbow tie up. Whitmore tries to push Chandler Scott back into the ropes, but the bigger, stronger Scott pushes against it. With little effort he pushes Whitmore back into the ropes, and the referee calls for a clean break. Scott lets go of the tie up, and raises his arms in the air. He backs away slowly, never taking his eyes off of Whitmore. The fans applaud the clean break, and Whitmore shakes her head. The two circle the ring once more.

Dick Morosi: Odd display of sportsmanship there.

Seth Ericson: Devan Whitmore could be playing mind games with Scott, she is a Sith Lord and everything.

Scott and Whitmore circle the ring, and this time Scott leans in for the tie up, but Whitmore feints! Whitmore ducks the tie up attempt and goes behind Scott! Whitmore grabs a rear waistlock, and heaves with all her might! Whitmore somehow, someway pulls Scott up and off of his feet before slamming him chest first into the canvas! The crowd pops for the display of raw strength as Whitmore climbs over the larger Scott like a spider, cinching in a front facelock!

Dick Morosi: What an excellent display of fundamentals by Devan Whitmore.

Seth Ericson: Those Jedi Mind Tricks, Dick...those goddamn Jedi Mind Tricks.

Devan Whitmore cinches the hold in, and the camera cuts to ringside where we see Scott staring off into space, perhaps contemplating just where the hell this newfound wrestling came from. Before long Scott pushes himself up off of the mat with both hands, and raw physics gets the better of Devan Whitmore. Scott stands up to his feet, and Whitmore is lifted off of the canvas! Scott plants both hands on Devan’s waist, and tries to send her up for a flapjack! Devan doesn’t let go and instead flips over Scott and drives him down into the canvas with a neckbreaker! The crowd pops huge!

Dick Morosi: That was impressive!

Seth Ericson: What agility by the Sith Lord!

Devan Whitmore breaks the hold and scrambles over Scott to make the cover!


ONE...

TWO...

.. Kickout!

Scott rolls away from Whitmore, trying to shake the cobwebs loose. He rolls to the outside of the ring where and starts slapping his palm against the side of his head. Devan Whitmore scrambles to her feet and hits the ropes. On the return she jumps up onto the top rope, and Scott turns around just in time to catch the brunt of a corkscrew plancha! Both competitors spill out all over the ringside mats and concrete floor! Crashing and banging against the barricade as well! The crowd roars in appreciation for the death defying move, and Devan Whitmore is a little slow to get to her feet, but she’s first up all the same. Chandler Scott has a shocked look on his face, unsure of what the hell is going on. Devan Whitmore grabs him by the back of his head and the seat of his pants, and rolls him into the ring.

Chandler Scott is climbing to a knee as Devan Whitmore climbs up onto the apron. Chandler Scott has gotten to his feet and he turns around. Devan Whitmore springboards off the ropes, looking for a hurricanrana, but Scott catches Whitmore midflight and drives her down into the canvas with a vicious powerbomb! The sickening thud is heard all throughout the Korakuen Hall! The crowd pops for Scott who stumbles back and falls into the ropes! He takes a moment to adjust, and assess his situation.

Dick Morosi: What a reversal by Scott!

Seth Ericson: Tell me about it! We’re gonna need a spatula to scrape Whitmore off of that mat!

Scott nods his head and walks toward Whitmore. He covers her in the middle of the ring, hooking both legs.


ONE...

TWO...

.. KICKOUT!

Scott nods his head and climbs to his feet. He grabs Whitmore by the hair and pulls her up as well. Throwing a side headlock on her, he leans into the ropes and Devan Whitmore shoots him off! Scott hits the ropes on the other side and comes roaring back looking for a lariat! Whitmore ducks and Scott hits the ropes again! He comes back for another lariat, but Whitmore ducks that one as well! Scott suddenly stops in his tracks, turns around, and before Whitmore can adjust he flattens her with a stiff clothesline from hell! Scott’ arm connects with the back of Whitmore’s head, and she falls forward completely stunned! The only thing holding Whitmore up on her own two feet is the assistance of the ropes! Scott takes another run at Whitmore, but Whitmore is too quick! She pulls the top rope down and Scott falls over the top rope! But he holds on! Scott lands on his feet on the apron, and Whitmore comes up for air! Scott grabs Whitmore by the hair and hits a stun gun onto the ropes! Whitmore flies onto her back, spread eagle!

Chandler looks to the fans, who respond in kind. Scott stalks the apron and climbs up the turnbuckle, to the top rope!

Dick Morosi: What’s this?! Scott is looking to take a page out of Whitmore’s playbook here!

Chandler stands perched on the top rope. He closes one eye and adjusts his aim. He leaps off of the top rope and drives a picture perfect elbow deep into the heart of Devan Whitmore! Immediately Scott hooks a leg for the cover!

ONE...

TWO....

.. KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Just what do these two have to do to each other to win this match?!

Seth Ericson: I don’t know, but it sure looks like they’re pulling out all the stops tonight!

Scott, a little sore from the elbow drop, climbs up to a knee. Devan Whitmore is stirring as well. Scott climbs up to his feet and wipes his nose. Devan Whitmore is two steps behind, but also manages to come to her feet. Scott does not approach Whitmore, and instead nods and tells her “you’ve got heart”. Whitmore spits on the canvas and motions for them to lock up again. Scott shrugs his shoulders and moves in for the lock-up, but before they can, Whitmore ducks down and hits Scott in the knee with a dropkick! Scott spills into the middle rope! Whitmore gets to her feet and hits the ropes. On the return she runs up Chandler Scott’ back and springboards off of the top rope! In mid-air she twists and lands a vicious double foot stomp onto the spine of Chandler Scott! Scott crashes into the canvas! Scott is nearly decapitated by the middle rope!

Dick Morosi: That was vicious! What a Death Drop by Devan Whitmore!

Devan Whitmore smiles to herself, but she knows she’s not done yet. Scott is squirming on the canvas. Whitmore takes a hold of one leg, and she heaves with all her might, dragging Lieutenant Scott into the center of the ring. She looks to the top rope, and the fans absolutely come alive for Devan Whitmore. She walks briskly toward the turnbuckles, and she steps out onto the apron. She climbs the turnbuckles with renewed purpose as she eyes her prey in the center of the ring. Without a moment to spare, Devan Whitmore takes flight! She twists in the air, looking for a 450 Splash!

Dick Morosi: Can she hit it?! Can she hit Jedi Mind Trick?!

As Whitmore descends on the Force, Scott has the wherewithal to get the knees up! Devan Whitmore crashes hard into the raised knees of Chandler Scott! She crumples up like origami and rolls off of Scott like shed skin! Chandler Scott sits up, and he slams a fist into his wounded knee.

Seth Ericson: What a counter by Chandler Scott! But you have to imagine that counter to the Jedi Mind Trick did just as much harm to Scott’ wheel as it did to Whitmore!

Chandler Scott pulls himself away from Devan, sliding his butt across the canvas of the ring, he pulls himself toward the ropes and starts pulling himself up. Brandon Bower reaches his feet, but is having trouble putting pressure on his bad knee. He tries to take a step forward but nearly collapses. He holds onto the rope, and soon starts limping toward Devan Whitmore. He reaches the unconscious Devan Whitmore, and grabs her by the hair. He starts pulling her up to her feet, when Whitmore suddenly breaks free and rolls Chandler Scott through with a single leg crab! The single leg crab turns into an Ankle Lock! Chandler Scott is pushing, shoving, kicking! He’s doing anything to get the hell out of harm’s way!

Dick Morosi: Could this be it?! She’s got Scott in that ankle lock!

Chandler Scott tries rolling over onto his back, but Whitmore blocks it. He tries pushing himself up with his arms, but Whitmore leans forward and falls down, pushing all her weight onto the ankle and knee of Chandler Scott! Scott starts crawling for the ropes! He’s crawling, inch by inch! He’s almost there! Chandler Scott has almost reached the ropes! He’s reaching with his arm stretched wide! His fingertips are grazing the rough feel of the rope in front of him! He’s almost--!

Devan Whitmore gets back to her feet, and she drags Chandler Scott back into the center of the ring! Chandler Scott has nowhere to go! He’s grabbing fistfuls of his hair, unsure of what to do! The crowd is cheering wildly for the San Diego Bay Champion, hoping, praying he can break free of Devan Whitmore’s submission maneuver! Somehow, someway, Chandler Scott expels the last of his strength by shoving himself up off of the canvas and with momentum, he ducks through and rolls Devan Whitmore over him! Whitmore is quick to get to her feet, and Scott barely limps up to his! Whitmore charges in toward Scott, looking for a spear! Scott catches Whitmore and stumbles back, and on one leg he lifts her high up into the air before driving her down into the mat with the Valediction! Both Scott and Whitmore collapse near the ropes! Scott and Whitmore are both down! Both could be out!

Dick Morosi: These two are battling it out!

They both return to their feet, Scott goes to kick Devan, she kicks his leg away nailing him with a dropkick, which sends him back into the ropes. Scott leans against the ropes, Devan jumps up nailing him with a enzguri to the back of his head. Devan returns to her feet, she pulls Scott around, she grabs him around his wrist, as she does, Scott kicks her in her stomach doubling her over. Scott grabs Devan planting her down with another Valediction! Scott pushes her over covering her.

ONE...

TWO...

THREE,..

David Zinkus: The winner of this match and STILL Exodus Pro San Diego Champion...Chandler Scott!!

WINNER: CHANDLER SCOTT

Dick Morosi: Another big defense by Chandler Scott, he's starting to build a reign that he hopes can measure up to that of the previous champion, Savannah Taylor. Right now, fans, let's take you back to earlier today when I sat down with a man who's fresh off returning to EXODUS from (r)Evolution Wrestling, Shinji Uchikawa and his manager, Tom Higashikata.

We cut to a video labeled "EARLIER TODAY" in the lower corner as we sit in an empty Korakuen Hall with Dick Morosi, Shinji Uchikawa, and Tom Higashikata next to his friend.

Dick Morosi: Folks, we're here with (R)Evolution Wrestling's Top of the Class tournament winner and newest member of the EXODUS Pro roster, Shinji Uchikawa. With us as well is his manager, Tom Higashikata.

Tom Higashikata: YO! Show some props for mah dude here! He's a future World Champion! Whateva you gotta ask him, ask me, and I'll--

Shinji raises his hand and pats his friend on his shoulder.

Shinji Uchikawa: Tom, please. I must do this by myself. I have spent much time trying to learn English to do this, and through that I have realized something.

Tom Higashikata: You need me to translate for ya?

Shinji Uchikawa: No...you do not have a grasp of the language.

Tom looks a little mad at first before Shinji smiles at his friend and eases the tension before Shinji squares himself to look at Dick.

Dick Morosi: Shinji, I think the first thing that is on everyone's mind happens to be your actions at Dead In Hollywood. Since The Autumn Effect 2, everyone has expected you to choose the side of Shozo Arino and REVOLUTION in their question to change wrestling, yet you didn't choose them. In fact, you chose to help a complete stranger in Simon Raines. Could you explain your actions and how you got caught up in the group to begin with?

Shinji frowns, realizing that they got to the point. He lets loose an audible sigh before rubbing his face for a moment, the smile that was there earlier now noticeably absent.

Shinji Uchikawa: When I come to America, I was asked to stand alongside a man that was no good. Messenger of God clearly wanted to hate others. Together, he create Gods & Monsters with Christum Furor. They claim they wish to change wrestling...and they hurt people. They brutalize my friend Black Jones. They take and take and give nothing back. I became...disillusioned. Jonathan Collins give me chance, tells me to sharpen my skills with his students, and I do. I meet Shozo Arino and he and I click like brothers. He from my homeland, he and I have many of the same dreams.

Shinji stops and smiles, thinking of his friend.

Shinji Uchikawa: He say he want to change things in wrestling, and I want to do that. To change, to allow new things to grow, the earth is enriched by the things left behind. The old trees drop seeds, the soil is helped by their presence. When the old trees and plants wither away, it leaves enough for new plants and trees to grow. Our roots are built into the soil of the things that came before us. That is growth. That is evolution. We grow in the soil and adapt to the surroundings we grow into. Shozo and my friends do not wish to grow in this soil. They want to salt the earth and try to grow from the poor soil and ashes from the things they set on fire. This does not make for growth. I see their path and I see Gods & Monsters. They say they are different, but it is the same. Same methods, different messengers.

Dick Morosi: Shinji, what do you mean? Do you think they are identical?

Shinji frowns, rubbing his face again as if he has to measure the words in his limited English.

Shinji Uchikawa: There are differences. Shozo no have several beautiful women carrying out his actions. REVOLUTION says there are no leaders, but they will all band together under a flag. They all want to change wrestling for selfish reasons. Change for them, not for all. GRENDEL? GRENDEL wishes to change because he disagrees with Mr. Wulf. Devan believes she was forgotten in the growth of the class. Aries? Well, I think Aries just likes to hear himself speak. Aries is a bully, cares for nobody but himself.

REVOLUTION says "evolve or die." How is this change? How is this good for anyone but them? Instead of trying to make positive impact, they hurt others until they cave in. They prey on the minds of those forgotten, just like Furor. They make people believe things, and what good does this do? Nobody grows, nobody wins. Look at the anger and rage it has grown in Devan and GRENDEL. They do not wish to speak in peace. Mr. Collins offers GRENDEL olive branch to talk and be heard, GRENDEL wishes to not speak to him unless Collins takes action against punish Aries for wrongdoing. Then he speaks loudly. Shozo and I always had Mr. Collins to speak to, Shozo no speak to him. Instead of trying to get people to understand, they use violence to speak. What did Big L do to deserve being put in hospital? What is evolution about that? I do not understand these actions. I do not embrace them. I help Simon Raines, because it the right thing to do. I have not always made the right choice, but I will do the right thing.

Dick Morosi: Then what is the right thing, Shinji?

Shinji sighs, his frown growing larger as he realizes what the answer to that is.

Shinji Uchikawa: I....I.....I must stop REVOLUTION. Devan, Aries, GRENDEL, I will stop them. I will not allow them to succeed on their path. This is much more confusing with Shozo. I hope he comes to his senses soon, I do not want this for us. But if he wants evolution, he will have to grow to stop me from being roadblock to his friends. If he wants death...I cannot do that. But I will stop them. And I will do the right thing.

And on that, we go to commercial.

The screen turns to static, the white noise is deafening. Upon the screen, text begins to roll down the screen.

Have you seen the face of fear?

Have you stared at it? Really stared at it?

Have you felt it? Felt it coursing through your veins?

Have you had the disease? Felt it's corruption?

Have you seen the Ghost? Were you scared?

Have you tasted the cure? Have you been saved?

Coming soon, to (R) Evolution.

The Cure Itself.

The Ghost.

RAMSAY BODACH

We see his face, and then return to static. Then we return to backstage.


Exodus Intern: “Where’s Tom?”

Exodus Intern: “Dude, I don’t know...I haven’t seen him.”

Aries smirks from underneath the piece of silver duct tape over his mouth as he audibly sighs, he takes his index card away from the intern and waves him away dismissively as he turns around to find another wayward white person to harass only for his shoulders drop as he comes face to face with the one person who he really didn’t want anything with.

...the one person who he was been STRONGLY ADVISED having any conversation with…

...Virginia “Ginny” Storm.

Aries rolled his eyes and groaned audibly through the piece of tape as his shoulders drop in defeat as he hands her the index card, mumbling incoherently to himself, which was for the best knowing that all eyes were on him to say something...rather inappropriate.

Ginny Storm: “So this is your schtick now? The index cards? It’s cute...i enjoy the silence more than anything.”

Aries groans and waves his hand for Ginny to get on with it and read the card. She obliges, finding a bit of solace in the fact that one wrong slip of the tongue could spell curtains for the rising star in Exodus.

Ginny Storm: “Where’s Tom?”

Ginny Storm: “Well, I don’t know where Tom is...I’m sorry to say. I would say that I hope you find him but if it means that you have to keep that tape over your mouth for the remainder, well...I’d be lying. I hope when you pull the tape from your mouth, it takes your lips with it.”

Aries glares at her as he scribbles onto the index card hanging it over to her.

Ginny Storm: ”...why are you so mean to me?

Ginny Storm: “Dude are you frickin’ serious!? For weeks you’ve tormented me to know end and you have the nerve to ask a question like that when the tables are turned? You are a piece of work, you know that?”

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.

Ginny Storm: ”I know a lot of things but I don’t know where Tom is...so back to the reason we are even having this conversation. Do you know where Tom is?

Ginny sighs out of frustration as she pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head slowly.

Ginny Storm: “Dude, no I don’t know, maybe he’s by the catering table or something like that. Just go away, will you?”

Seeing that his presence is starting to wear thin, Aries takes off towards the catering table leaving Ginny shaking her head. Only seconds later does Aries return to pull the index card from her hands, only to replace with another before running off again. Ginny looks down at the index card and rolls her eyes before reading out aloud.

Ginny Storm: “Zoink.”

SINGLES MATCH
FIONA COLLINS vs. MELODY TORRES

"I Want Candy" by Good Charlotte starts up.

David Zinkus: Hailing from Houston, Texas she stands at 5 foot 2 inches tall and weighs about 117 pounds. She is MELODY TORRES!

Out steps Melody Torres. She stops at the top of the small ramp and holds a fist in the air. She walks down to the ring and slides under the bottom rope into the ring. She jumps up to her feet and bows to the announcers.

Dick Morosi: Melody Torres is making her EXODUS debut tonight, and I have to be honest, she's got a hell of a challenge tonight.

Seth Ericson: It's hard enough to beat Fiona Collins when she's nice and normal, but I imagine she's getting a Fiona Collins that's far from being remotely nice or normal.

Suddenly, the lights in the arena dim, and a hum and light orchestral music begins as "The Howling" by Within Temptation starts. The music continues to drift on as the lights blacken, all before the heavy portion of the intro kicks in, lights going to full blast as the crowd sees Fiona Collins standing at the center of the entrance stage, finger pointed to the air as the music continues!



Fiona starts to pump her fist, making her way down to the ring quickly, nodding as she looks out toward the ring, slapping hands with a few hands on her way down, touching foreheads with a young female fan by the rail, whispering a small promise before taking off a glow necklace from her neck to pass off to the fan!

David Zinkus: And his partner, from Portlandia, Oregon, weighing in at 135 pounds, the Strong Style Seraph…FIONA COOOOOLLLLINS!!!!



Quickly, Fiona makes her way onto the apron by leaping up onto it, all before flipping over the top rope and landing on one knee, her hand touching the ground as if she just landed like some sort of superhero, all before she climbs one turnbuckle, quickly raising her hand and pointing a finger to the sky again as the crowd cheers again.



She looks out at the crowd and instantly flips back, landing on her feet before turning around and looking toward the center of the ring, steel eyed focus on what's in front of her. As the lights come up and Collins looks back towards Melody, all before she hops off the turnbuckle and flies towards Melody with a huge dropkick that sends her flying back into her own corner as the bell rings! With the bell ringing, Fiona continues to lay into Melody with punches and kicks, clearly agitated at what happened at Dead In Hollywood still. Fiona gets pulled back by the referee, who notices Fiona's obviously angry as she paces around, waiting for Melody to get back up before superkicking her again flush in the face! Fiona quickly runs to the ropes and leaps off with a quebrada before she hooks the leg!

One!







Two!






TH--Torres kicks out! Fiona sighs and lifts up Melody, who rakes the eyes quickly before she slaps Fiona and sends her back towards the ropes. Melody irish whips Collins to the opposite side, who ducks under the clothesline attempt and handsprings off the ropes before she walks on her hands to grab Torres with her legs to spin her around and take her down with a headscissors! Fiona quickly gets to her feet and lifts Melody to hit her with a huge Soul Caliber! She screams out again and goes for the Shinigami, but Torres ducks and rolls out of the ringtrying to take a breather to avoid an angry Fiona!

Dick Morosi: I don't think anyone in EXODUS has seen a more aggressive or angry Fiona Collins. Not even Christum Furor has manage to get into the head the way mara has.

Seth Ericson: I'm not gonna lie, Dick...it's kinda hot.

Melody grins smugly as she points to her head that taking this "time out" was the smart thing to do, but she instantly turns her head and sees Fiona flying out of the ring with a huge no hands plancha while she takes out Torres, getting back to her feet and screaming after the Japanese crowd applauds for her. She quickly grabs Melody and throws her back into the ring before leaping up and using the ropes to slingshot back in and hit a huge dive before she starts to get up, calling out for the crowd, screaming for them to get behind her! She waits carefully for Melody to gets up before she takes two steps forward....SHINIGAMI! Fiona hooks the leg!

ONE!










TWO!














THREE!


Once the match is finished and "The Howling" starts, Fiona stumbles up to her feet and motions for a mic. Dave Zinkus obliges the Stardust Seraph and hands her a mic, which she uses to tap against her hip while pacing back and forth in the ring. She is clearly agitated but is soaking up the cheers and chants from the fans, looking around at the crowd with a slight smirk before she lifts the mic up to her mouth.

Fiona Collins: Y’know, Japan is like a second home to me. Every time I come back, it feels like I’ve never left to begin with. I have so many amazing memories I’ve made in this country and especially some amazing memories that I’ve made in Korakuen Hall and so many positive thoughts that I’ve created and worked towards here. But, two weeks ago, mara took me to a place that I haven’t been to in a long time - if ever. She made me bleed and she took me to the limit.

The crowd begins to boo as Fiona mentions mara’s name, her own demeanor still one of agitation and aggravation. Her pacing continues before she speaks again, her voice strong and powerful.

Fiona Collins: Starting tonight though, I’m fighting back. I’m not going to let anyone bring me down or try to scare me or distract me from my goal. And if mara is gonna try to drag me to Hell? Then I’m going to drag her down to Hell right along with me. By the time I’m through with you, Sister Mine, you won’t be reaching for the dead….

Fiona smirks as she stares into the camera, as if she is staring into mara’s soul.

Fiona Collins: …..you’re going to be reaching for help. DEUCES, BITCH!

She drops the mic to the mat, throwing up her arms in the air as the crowd goes crazy and her music hits.

WINNER: Fiona Collins

Dick Morosi: A good showing by Melody Torres in her EXODUS debut, but Fiona Collins is just a tough ticket no matter who you are!

Seth Ericson: Definitely, but I doubt this is the last we hear from Melody Torres -- after all, she IS with Aries Reed!

Dick Morosi: That's very true. Let's head backstage!

In a darkened room in the arena, two figures stand alone. One of them is Devan Whitmore, who appears to be in a state of meditation. With her is her recently reunited Uncle Jericho, who is watching her as she concentrates.

Jericho Thrawn: Focus, child. Your mind wanders too much.

Devan closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She is absolutely still, hands on her knees as she focuses on The Force, allowing it to flow through her. Jericho watches her intently, keeping his ears alert for any unwanted company.

Jericho Thrawn: Tonight is your night, my darling Devan. Tonight is the night you prove the naysayers wrong. Tonight is the night you add on to the glory of your REVOLUTION. You will do your brothers and sisters proud when you bring home the San Diego Bay title for not just you, but for your family.

A slight hum comes from Devan as her lips curl into a grin. Jericho walks over to her quickly and pinches her on the cheek.

Jericho Thrawn: Focus, this is not funny business. You have a mission to uphold and a legacy to fulfill. You are the last true Daughter of the Force. It is your destiny to bring this world to it’s knees, to educate the untrained minds. How are you to do that if you allow your mind to wander?

Devan opens her eyes and looks up at her uncle. He glances down at her sternly.

Jericho Thrawn: How will you reach YOUR full potential if you allow distractions to cloud your focus?

Devan Whitmore: My mind is clear, Uncle. The mission is clear. Win. Conquer. Bring glory to my family and myself.

Jericho sighs and holds out a hand to Devan, bringing her to her feet.

Jericho Thrawn: There’s so much more to it than that, my darling. Those are the surface goals, the short term. What you are entering into with this training, these powers… It’s for life, Devan. And you can’t let outside interference get in the way of your progress. Your REVOLUTION have your best interest at heart. They will keep you on the path of power, glory and dominance.

Devan looks ready to speak, but Jericho holds a finger up to silence her.

Jericho Thrawn: Meanwhile, there are others, many MANY others, who would lead you astray. They look like a good idea at the time. Or they seem like they are on the same noble course as you. But they are obstacles sent to test your will. And if you aren’t ready for them…

Jericho trails off as he notices Devan’s attention is no longer on him. He turns slightly to see the boy named Sue strolling around the corner. Jericho looks back at Devan who has a small smirk on her face. Her eyes are focused on the young man walking towards her. Jericho sighs again.

] Jericho Thrawn: They will destroy you.

Devan snaps her attention back to her uncle, doing her best to look innocent.

Devan Whitmore: Outside people bad. REVOLUTION family good. Uncle, I know this already. Trust me, my path is clear to me. I know what I must do. Nothing… or no one-

She says this last bit with emphasis as Sue looks up and notices Devan. He gives her a sly smile and winks her way. She grins even more.

Devan Whitmore: -is going to take me off the trail to glory. I assure you uncle. With you by my side, the Sith will rise once more.

Devan silences as Sue has approached. Jericho shakes his head and walks off, a sound of disgust escaping his lips as he does so. Sue watches him go before looking back at Devan.

Sue: I guess the old man doesn’t approve of me, huh?

Devan Whitmore: We were training. He hates distractions and he sees you as such.

Sue: Are you sure that’s all?

Devan looks up at Sue quizzically.

Devan Whitmore: Fairly positive. What are you getting yourself into? I’m surprised to see you here, I don’t often see the (R)evo students walking the halls of an EXODUS show.

Sue gives Devan a mischievous grin and leans towards her. He puts his lips against her ear and whispers something the camera doesn’t catch. Whatever it is, she giggles and pushes him away playfully.

Devan Whitmore: Oh, you better stop… I have a match to warm up for and a San Diego Bay title to win tonight. That kind of talk… Well, that could prove distracting. I suddenly see my uncle’s point.

Devan gives Sue a look of feigned consternation. Sue just grins and wraps an arm around Devan’s waist, pulling her into him.

Sue: Actually just skipped out on being security for a bit to wish you luck tonight. But if you need a warm-up, I think I may know a way or two to get a lady nice and limber for their match. Ma'am.

Devan’s eyes widen and she giggles loudly. She sticks her hand into the camera and pushes the camera man away. In response, the show goes to commercial break.

We cut to the exterior of the Staples Center as it seems like everyone's leaving for the night. People are exiting the building and as we see the parking lot, we see a man in a long jacket walking through it as we hear "Don't You (Forget About Me" by Simple Minds plays...all while we see Carey Dean walking toward the camera. Nodding in approval as he thinks about tonight's events, Carey raises his fist to the air, pumping it in approval as we freeze on that image and we go to copyright!

Dick Morosi: Wulf Erikssen doesn't seem quite right in the wake of what happened to Steve Lenton.

Seth Ericson: Wulf has lost it, and we need to get him reeled in before someone gets seriously hurt.

Dick Morosi: To be honest, I think someone's going to get seriously hurt tonight in this match, when Zack Lifer meets Adrien Cochrane...next!



The intoxicating sound of silence corrupts the regular broadcast, idle chatter echoing from the front row all the way to the nosebleed section. They speculate what's going on, their eyes wandering the arena itself while they discuss things with their boyfriends, girlfriends, parents, kids, or the like. They wonder to themselves why the show was stopped, why everything was put to a screeching halt.

Without any fanfare, without any of the pomp and circumstance, the camera finally sees someone moving amongst the crowd. Unfortunately, it's simply an older gentleman walking up the steps to head to the bathroom. Still, the camera searches, trying desperately to find an answer to why the production team hasn't played any music, hadn't changed the lights aside from the default Dead In Hollywood scenery. That's when they heard their answer - a voice heard straight from the crowd itself.

Zack Lifer: Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?

Static clicked into place a microsecond after he finished speaking, the unique tone of a black and gold bullhorn with the Matthews Enterprise logo plastered neatly on the side. He lacked a microphone, lacked the music to go along with his entrance, but still held strong as he approached the ring from the top of the stairs, passing the old gentleman with a cocky grin on his face. The idle chatter grew louder, the only sounds that could be heard whilst the camera was aimed at him, his eyes wide open as he held the custom bullhorn to his lips.

Zack Lifer: Let me ask you something... Are you having fun yet, Los Angeles?!

The crowd finally grows louder, their intense voices resoundingly cheering as a response. The man behind the voice cuts them off, his hand swiping at the air in front of him like a cat.

Zack Lifer: All these movie references are great, aren't they? The production values, the laughs, the emotion! Classic, something that'll live on in the annals of EXODUS history for decades to come, I'm sure. And what about me? I won't get any of those amenities, will I? I won't get to come out to special music, I won't get the same treatment as everyone else did since I'm out the door tomorrow, right? I don't get to have my fun. And since I don't get to have my fun, neither do you.

The crowd boo and jeer the outsider, the man who's contract will be null and void this time next Monday.

Zack Lifer: So, here's what I was thinking. I brought my own equipment, custom made, and that way EXODUS brass can't turn the goddamn thing off before I'm finished, understand? I'm taking over the broadcast on my terms. And on my terms, I'd like to tell you all something, something that needs telling on one of the grandest stages EXODUS can offer.

The crowd openly displayed their displeasure, shouting obscenities to him, which ultimately were heard by the cameras. Lifer strutted down the stairs and towards the ring gradually as he spoke, letting go of the button every time he paused so he didn't waste the battery life.

Zack Lifer: This ain't gonna be the last time you see Zack Lifer, oh no. I already found a way to make the best out of this little vacation of mine, don't you worry one bit. I can't disclose anything yet, of course. I can't ruin the surprise. I mean, where's the fun in that?

A smirk rises to his lips again, the crowd watching helplessly as more intoxicating silence overtakes them, their idle chatter almost nonexistent as they listen up to see what he has to say, most standing up so they could get a better view of the madman getting closer to approaching the barricade that separated them and the ring itself.

Zack Lifer: All I can tell you is simple — You're not safe. None of you. So, a little friendly advice? Watch your back. There's some truly insane people out there, everyone. And you just never know what's gonna happen next.

With that, Lifer climbs the barricade and nears the ring, hearing the round of boos encircling him as he holds up the bullhorn one last time, pointing it to the rafters to scream at the top of his lungs for all to hear.

Zack Lifer: Adrien Cochrane! Get out here so I can make an example out of a former EXODUS World Champion, why don't you?!

After the arena goes dark and quiet, the brass introduction to the Indiana Jones theme song begins to blare on the PA system.

Seth Ericson: Hang on a moment, I think Harrison Ford is about to come to the ring and wrestle!

Dick Morosi: It’s not Harrison Ford, Seth.

Seth Ericson: I see someone wearing a brown hat and jacket. Does he have a whip too? Harrison Ford has a whip!

Dick Morosi: That’s Adrien Cochrane!

Adrien Cochrane appears on the ramp to the cheers as the EXO-Screen shows various clips from the Indiana Jones series. As stated previously by Seth Ericson, Adrien came dressed for the part, wearing the attire of the protagonist from the series, including Indy’s trademark hat and his whip.

David Zinkus: And from New Orleans, Louisiana, weighing in at 190 pounds…he is the Dropkick King…ADRIEN COCHRANE!!!!!

After jogging down to the ring and poorly attempting to use the whip, Adrien begins to shed his Indy costume as he was wearing his wrestling attire underneath it. With Lifer in the ring, he begins to stare down his opponent, all before Dan Arnouil calls both Cochrane and Lifer to the centre of the ring to explain the rules.

Dick Morosi: Here we are ladies and gentlemen. Zack Lifer has been on a path of anarchy and chaos the last few months, striking out at those few who considered him a friend, as well as his enemies. Tonight, in what Jonathan Collins promises is Lifer’s last EXODUS match, he faces The Dropkick King.

Seth Ericson: God only knows why Cochrane gets this honour, but it doesn’t matter. Win or lose, after tonight, Lifer’s gone. And everyone will breathe a sigh of relief.

Dick Morosi: As one last hurrah, Zack gets one final No DQ match, and Adrien gets to try and get some measure of revenge on the man who attacked him a few short weeks ago.

Arnouil steps back from the pair, and calls for the bell. Hot off the blocks, Lifer charges forward, grabbing hold of Cochrane whilst simultaneous loosing a couple of blows to Adrien’s kidney, and charging him into the corner. Adrien doesn’t give in without a fight however, and getting a boot to the middle turnbuckle manages to push himself out of the corner, and in turn push Zack into the ropes. The pair roll up the ropes, each clutching the other, trying to gain some semblance of an advantage. Eventually, Lifer breaks the deadlock with a quick stamp to Cochrane’s foot, followed by positioning him into a Headlock, quickly wrenching back on the neck for extra pressure. Adrien, knowing he can’t afford to lose any strength fighting even a simple submission, grabs hold of Zack and runs him into the ropes, using the extra rebounding force to whip him across the ring.

Dick Morosi: Things seem relatively civil so far, neither man quite able to get the upper hand.

Seth Ericson: On a good day, this pair would be a solid match. Adrien’s been fighting a decline in form recently though, and Lifer is anything but stable right now. It could really go either way.

Lifer goes running, and comes back off the ropes into a huge Dropkick, straight to the chin.

Dick Morosi: Textbook Dropkick there from the Dropkick King. Maybe the added heat for this match will give him the push he needs to get back on form.

Cochrane goes in for the cover, which Lifer kicks out of before Arnouil can even start the count.

Seth Ericson: I don’t know, going for a pin that early? Doesn’t sound like he’s back on form to me.

Dick Morosi: He knows what he’s doing Seth. Every pin Lifer has to break is another bit of energy he can’t use against Adrien offensively. He knows what he’s doing.

Adrien gets up, as Zack quickly gets to his knees. Before he can get any further up, Cochrane cuts him off, with a quick Shoot Kick to the chest. The crowd cheers as the impact of the blow echoes around the arena. He quickly follows up with a quick Flipping Neckbreaker, leaping over Lifer and bringing him crashing to the mat. He rolls over for another pin.

ONE

Kickout! Adrien quickly hops off, but before he can continue his assault Lifer quickly starts rolling, all the way across the ring and out under the ring ropes. He lands on his feet, and steps back a little, obviously trying to regain his composure. Adrien eyes him up, and sets off running into the far ropes, before rebounding back and sliding under the bottom rope with a Baseball Slide, only for Lifer to duck out of the way! As Cochrane lands on his feet, Lifer rises up and hits him straight in the gut with a Knee Lift. He quickly hooks up the winded Cochrane, and sets him up for a Suplex. As he lifts though, Adrien folds himself up in half, connecting with a Knee Strike to Lifer’s head, causing Zack to drop him. Adrien lands on his feet, and quickly takes the dazed Lifer and rams him face first into the ring post. Lifer staggers back, and as he groggily turns around, is met with a Lightning Strike!

Dick Morosi: Superkick from Adrien straight to Lifer’s face. Zack just can’t seem to get going here.

Adrien quickly pulls Zack up to his feet, grabbing both a handful of hair and tights, and slides him in under the top ropes. He takes a moment to hi-five a random fan at ringside, and slides in behind him, going straight for the pin in the ring.

ONE

TWO

Kickout! Lifer kicks out again, and Adrien gets straight back to work, taking Lifer by the head and guiding him up to upright, before taking him straight back down with a Fisherman Suplex, bridging and holding on for the pin.

ONE

TWO

Kickout!

Seth Ericson: Adrien needs to learn that he’s not going to get a result unless he puts in the legwork. You’re not going to take out a man like Lifer through this kind of attrition.

Adrien sits Lifer up, and quickly hops over him, connecting with a Forward Somersault Cutter. Leaving Lifer groaning on the mat, Adrien hops back up, and steps back a moment, considering his strategy. After a moment of two, he makes his decision and locks in an Armbar. Wrenching the arm, Lifer is suddenly spurred back to life, as Dan Arnouil drops beside him to check on him. Sternly, he shakes his head, refusing to submit. Spurred on, Adrien wrenches harder, pulling the arm further back in its socket. Slowly, almost instinctively, Lifer crawls to the bottom rope, and eventually reaches it, grabbing hold with his free hand. Adrien just wrenches all the harder though.

Dick Morosi: It’s a No DQ match, Adrien doesn’t have to break the hold! Lifer’s got no option here!

With obvious pain, Zack manages to get one leg out under the bottom rope, and then the other. Getting both feet on the floor, he manages to step about a bit. Adrien doesn’t realise what’s happened, until Zack uses his new purchase to suddenly twist his body, release a flurry of punches straight into Adrien’s face with his free hand, forcing him to relinquish the hold. Lifer steps back forcing the blood back into his left arm, as Adrien gets upright, and starts taunting Lifer over the top rope. With a sudden burst of energy, Lifer charges forward, taking hold of one of Adrien’s feet, yanking it hard and causing Lifer to topple backwards. Lifer holds onto the boot, and pulls Cochrane partly out of the ring, under the bottom rope. He drags him along the apron to the ring post, where he holds Adrien’s leg out against it, his knee in line with the post. With a sick smile on the face, he drives his boot into Adrien’s knee with a modified Big Boot, driving it hard into the post.

Seth Ericson: That was sick! Adrien’s knee went straight into the uncovered steel.

Lifer slides into the ring behind Adrien, and taking hold of the same leg, drags him out into the middle of the ring, and with an almighty roar lifts him high, before slamming Cochrane’s knee hard into the mat. Adrien cries out in pain, as Adrien quickly bundles him up in a Jack-Knife, going for the pin.

ONE

TWO

Kickout! Lifer gets up, taking Adrien’s leg in one hand as he does. Adrien quickly gets up, on his other foot, trying to counter any potential leglock. Lifer starts yanking the leg, trying to take Adrien off balance, only to be taken off guard as Adrien counters with an Enzuigiri! Adrien staggers forward to capitalise, but Zack quickly hits with a Drop Toehold, bringing Adrien crashing back down to the mat. Zack quickly takes hold of the damaged leg, and yanking hard, wrenches it hard out of socket. He looks to repeat the manoeuvre, but Adrien resists the yank, and after a second kicks out, hitting Zack hard in the stomach. As Zack staggers back, Adrien gets uneasily back to his feet, and as Lifer comes for him barrels out with a punch, straight to Lifer’s face. Undeterred, Lifer barrels back with one of his own, causing Adrien to come back with another.

Dick Morosi: Both men just exchanging punches now in the centre of the ring.

Adrien manages to break the flow with a fast flurry of punches, knocking Zack out of rhythm. Adrien winds up for a massive punch, but Lifer quickly pre-empts it with a Kick to Cochrane’s injured knee, doubling Adrien up in pain, as Zack lets out a primal roar, and charges forward. He goes for the Forced Suicide, but Adrien dodges it, and as Lifer turns, he connects with another Lightning Strike, taking Lifer off of his feet! Adrien goes to follow up with the pin!

ONE

TWO

TH-

Kickout!

Seth Ericson: So close! Oh my god, I just realised I’m actually cheering on Adrien Cochrane to win. I feel dirty.

Adrien just sits on the mat, in a state of disbelief, as Lifer starts to get back up. Lifer’s back on his feet, but groggy, staggering back and forth, and stumbles back into the corner as Lifer get’s back up to his feet. Adrien charges in and connects with a Clothesline. He quickly locks up Lifer in a Headlock, and runs out of the corner with a Bulldog, only for Lifer to reverse it, hitting a kick to the back of Cochrane’s damaged knee, and following straight up with a True Madness.

Dick Morosi: TRUE MADNESS! That massive Swinging Leg Hook Belly-to-Back Suplex has put the brakes on Cochrane’s momentum.

Seth Ericson: I think that took everything Lifer had though. Both men now laid out on the floor.

Zack starts shaking his head viciously, trying to get himself together. He sees Adrien beginning to stir, and start unleashing hard kicks straight to Adrien’s head, whilst still on the floor himself, and following up with rolling him up for the pin.

ONE

TWO

T-

Kickout! Zack, face a mask of rage, barely acknowledges the call, and just grabs Adrien by the head, pulling him upright. Holding Cochrane by the head, he drives his knee into his face with a Knee Lift, once, twice, three times, all the while backing him up into the corner. In the corner, he continues, hitting him for a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh time, as Cochrane’s legs finally buckle, and he falls to the floor. Lifer doesn’t let up, transitioning to stomps, as he repeatedly introduces the sole of his boot to Adrien Cochrane’s face. As Adrien’s face starts to bleed under the repeated impact, Lifer stops, and instead drops to the mat, and rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope.

Dick Morosi: Wait, what’s he doing now? Where’s he going? Why’s he coming over here?

Zack charges at the announce table, causing Dick to quickly get out of his seat and back away.

Zack Lifer: Thank Dick old buddy old pal!

Zack grabs Morosi’s recently vacated chair, and after closing it gives a quick slam of it to the top of the announce table, before running to the ring, sick smile on his face.

Seth Ericson: This doesn’t bode well.

Dick Morosi: Not only that, but now I have to stand.

Seth Ericson: Priorities Dick. Adrien’s in a world of hurt, and now Lifer’s armed. This doesn’t look promising for the Dropkick King.

Zack slides into the ring, chair in hand, and straight off lifts it over head and brings it crashing down into Cochrane’s knee. Adrien doubles up in pain, only to be caught under the chin as Adrien swings the chair up in an uppercut motion.

Dick Morosi: My God, I think that may have re-arranged Adrien’s jaw.

Adrien, now bleeding from both the forehead and the chin, barely reacts as Lifer grabs a handful of hair, and drags him upright. He drops the chair on the mat, and follows up with a Double Arm DDT, dropping Adrien headfirst to the chair. Sick smirk implying that he’s not done, he takes up the chair, and steps to the ring ropes, taunting the crowd with the chair as they rain boos down on him. He takes his chair, and smacks it on the mat a few times, as he shouts for Adrien to get upright. Dazed, groggy and bloody, Adrien begins to stir, slowly getting to all fours. Zack charges in just as he gets up onto his knees, and connects with a Forced Suicide with the chair, straight to Adrien’s face, knocking over and onto his ass, stunned.

Dick Morosi: That massive Knee Strike, delivered through the chair, Adrien’s done. Lifer just has to go for the pin.

Seth Ericson: But he’s not.

Lifer, still holding onto the chair, runs into the ropes Adrien is facing, rebounding back, and hitting a modified version of the Dead Air, using the Chair in place of his elbow.

Dick Morosi: DEAD AIR! Or at least a variant of it, a massive Sliding Chair Strike, and Adrien’s got to be out for the count.

Resting the chair on Adrien’s face, Zack then lays on it, putting all his weight there, as pushes down on Cochrane’s chest for the pinfall.

ONE

TWO



THREE!!!

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this bout, ZACK LIFER!

WINNER: Zack Lifer

Dick Morosi: That’s it ladies and gentlemen. Lifer wins the match, in brutal fashion.

Seth Ericson: At least that’s the last we’ll see of him. Pity his last match was a win, but... Wait, what’s he doing now?

Zack Lifer has pushed Dan Arnouil away as he’s tried to lift his arm, and waving his chair, chases him out of the ring. Next, he turns back to the recumbent form of Adrien, and with some skill weaves Adrien’s injured leg into chair, placing the knee square in the mechanism.

Dick Morosi: Oh come on, this is sick. This is over! Someone has to stop him.

With a roar, Zack stamps on the chair back with his full weight, scissoring the mechanism around Adrien’s knee, causing unknown damage to the joint. Quickly freeing his chair back up, Zack brings it to the head of the now conscious Adrien. Taking it on edge, he drives it like a knife into the chest of Adrien, beating out any last remnants of fight from him. Satisfied he has him at his mercy, he repeats the feat from before, this time placing the mechanism over Cochrane’s throat.

Seth Ericson: Oh come on! Sure, I don’t like Cochrane, but this is going too far.

With a look unlike any other on this earth, Zack begins leaning on the chair back with his foot, squeezing the mechanism over Adrien’s throat. Realising what’s happening, he starts cooking and grasping at the air, but is unable to do anything about it.

Dick Morosi: This is sick, someone has to sto- wait what the hell?

As Seth speaks, a hooded figure leaps the barricade behind him, stepping announce table and making a bee line for the ring.

Seth Ericson: I have no idea Dick, but he’s armed.

The figure, wearing denim jeans and plain black hooded sweatshirt, has a chain wrapped around one hand, and wields what appears to be a pool cue in the other.

Dick Morosi: Wait, I think I recognise that weapon choice.

The crowd cheers as the figure slides into the ring, prompting Lifer to look to the distraction, only to be knocked reeling as he receives a pool cues with two hands across his face. He staggers back, looking to address his attacker, but the assault continues, with the cue being swung into his ribs as he brings his hands up to protect his face, with his assailant swinging round and driving the cue into the ribs on the opposite side, causing Lifer to drop to his knees, winded. The assailant winds up for a massive overhead strike, bringing the pool cue down hard straight over the top of Lifer’s head, causing it to break in two on impact.

Seth Ericson: Ow, I think Lifer will have felt that one.

Zack Lifer winces in pain, and brings his hand to his head, bring it away with blood on it, as the viscous fluid starts to flow freely from somewhere on his head. Driven into a rage, he awkwardly gets to his feet, and charges his attacked, only to be taken by surprise as Wulf Erikssen’s head bursts out from inside of his hood, connecting hard with the bridge of Lifer’s nose, causing a geyser of blood to erupt from the nostrils.

Dick Morosi: I knew I recognised those weapons from somewhere. Wulf Erikssen here to perform the save.

Seth Ericson: Um, he’s saved Cochrane, Dick. Why isn’t he stopping?

As Lifer staggers back, Wulf charges forward, and delivers a Falcon Punch to Lifer’s busted nose with his chain wrapped fist! Lifer drops to the deck like he’s been shot. Wulf stops, and raises his chain wrapped fist high in the air. Some of the crowd cheer, but most have been shocked to some kind of silence by his display of brutality. With a determined look on his ace, he unwraps a length of the chain from his fist, and whips it down on the fallen Lifer’s chest. Lifer screams in pain as the steel chain makes impact, and tries to roll away, only to get whipped once more.

Seth Ericson: Zack’s getting whipped like a government mule, Dick!

Dick Morosi: What does that even mean? Oh, what’s next?

Wulf has allowed Zack to start to climb to his knees. Stepping behind him, he swings the length of chain at Lifer’s neck, the length of steel wrapping entirely around Zack’s neck before Wulf grabs hold of the other end with his free hand, and starts to pull hard on the ends, throttling the life out of Zack as he desperately gets his hands up to the chain, trying to free some space to his airway. Keeping hold of the chain, Wulf stamps hard on Lifer’s back, driving out what little air remains from his lungs, and causing him to fall face first to the mat. Wulf holds on longer, with Zack slowly turning purple, with Wulf pulling back against his boot on Lifer’s back.

Seth Ericson: If he’s not careful, Lifer’s head will pop straight off!

After a final yank, Wulf release hold of one end of the chain, letting Lifer fall forward to the mat, unconscious at best. Wulf angrily pulls at the chain, viciously pulling it from around Lifer’s neck, the metal grinding into the throat and neck as it unravels. He stands a moment, both at both Adrien struggling for air, still clutching at his throat, and Lifer, lifeless on the mat. He looks up at the mat, and sees the (R)Evolution security team and EMTs beginning to assemble. Shaking his head, he steps over Lifer, giving him one last stamp to the head as he does so, before climbing out of the ring under the top rope. He quickly pulls his hood back up over his head, and once more leaps the barricade, the stunned crowd silently parting for him as he dashes through them, and out of sight.

Dick Morosi: I, I don’t even...

Seth Ericson: We’re going to cut to some backstage feeds whilst we... yeah.

Dick Morosi: Johnny Cannon continues his tirades, and I'm starting to wonder if he realizes the hole he's digging.

Seth Ericson: Who cares? It's his last night! It's a damn shame it is, but if he's going out, the man is going out swinging.

The camera pans around the sold out arena, with many a fan trying their hardest to grab the cameraman’s attention and have the rare honor to mouth “Hi. Mom! I’m on TV!” towards the screen for the folks back home. As soon as the commentators are ready, the production team in the back switches the feed, so it portrays Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: Ladies and gentleman, if you’re just joining us we’d like to thank you for into EXODUS presentation of Dead In Hollywood from the Staples Center, here in Los Angeles, California.

Seth Ericson: And what a show it’s been, Dick. We saw Black Jones and The Masked Salaryman open things up with a hot contest. Chandler Scott retained the San Diego Bay Championship against Shozo Arino. And Christian Kane was able to outlast Lexy Chapel and Justin Brooks to hold onto the International Championship.

Dick Morosi: Yes, but our next contest is one we’ve been anticipating since April of last year. A rematch of an EXODUS World Championship bout, and a rubber match in what has become a rivalry of sorts between two men who hate each other.

Seth Ericson: I’ve got that big fight feeling, Dick. I’ve got goosebumps. It’s time for Cannon Las III.



The lights in the Staples Center slowly begin to go out, not the usual fade, but each light seems to go out individually as a crack of thunder booms out, each one accompanied by a violent flicker of lightning. The crowd gasps in awe, each and every one of them standing to attention with their arms in the air, screaming out in anticipation at what they are going to witness. Those that have lighters let their flames dance in the darkness as the final lights in the arena finally go out. All is quiet.

Dick Morosi: It’s all gone quiet. Far too quiet.

Seth Ericson: I don’t like this, Dick!



The big screen lights up as footage begins to play, and the harrowing orchestra theme of Howard Shore plays out, booming in the background. Smoke billows out from the behind the curtain, thick and white creating a blanket of cloud that pours down the ramp and towards the ring. The cloud grows thicker, filling the ring itself on mass and spilling out into the crowd. Then there is a figure.



The venomous lyrics ring out in the Black Tongue of Mordor as the first figure appears on the ramp, tall, black robed and fierce. It slowly steps out as fear begins to take hold of the audience, this Dark Marshall pointing his steel sword out towards the crowd. He is closely followed by another figure, The Betrayer staring out towards those in attendance from under its black hood. These two make their way down the ramp, weapons in hand as they stand apart facing each other.



Two more closely follow, the Undying and the Shadow Lord, both black cloaked and ferocious, marching down the ramp way with swords in hand almost in prayer. They join the previous two as the music plays on, side by side with one another upon the ramp way. The smoke continues to blow out of the entrance way as two more join, the Dwimmerlaik and The Tainted. They pause for a moment, pointing their sharpened blades into the crowd until they join the rest of the Nazgûl.

îdô Nidir nênâkham
Bârî'n Katharâd

As the crowd roars on in approval to the collection of Ring Wraiths. The is another crack of thunder, the lightning flashing around viciously to illuminate both the crowd and the gathering of the Ulairi. Another two join the group as the terrifying music comes to a close, The Knight of Umbar and Khamûl the Easterling. They join the others, all of them standing across from each other as they begin to chant in loud, low and booming voices that fill the arena, echoing off of the walls.

We renounce our Maker

BONG! There is the loud ringing of a single bell, as the first of these Nazgûl l lifts their sword in the air. BONG! And a second. They continue to shout out their words, a translation of from the Black Tongue. BONG!

We cleave to the darkness.
We take unto ourselves the power and glory.

BONG! The fourth sword rises as the Ring Wraiths are seemingly creating an archway with their twisted and demented weaponry. BONG! And the fifth sword rises into the heavens as there is a rustling of wind and the haze of smoke intensifies. BONG!

Behold! We are the Nine,
The Lords of Unending Life.

BONG! The Nazgul stamp their feet as they finish their speech. BONG! And all returns to darkness as the last of the Ring Wraiths raises their sword in the air, There is utter silence, not even the crowd utters a single word in anticipation of what is going to happen next.

Dick Morosi: Eight bells have sounded for each of these Ring Wraiths that have formed a terrifying archway on the way to the ring. This has to be one of the weirdest sight I have ever seen in my broadcasting career.

Seth Ericson: Hey, Dick… I thought there were NINE Nazgul? Where’s the last one?





The swirling violins of the San Francisco Symphony orchestra blast out from the P.A system, accompanied by the brutal sound of Metallica, as the orchestral version of ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ rings out in the Staples Center. Wild, flashing strobe lights circle around the audience as the smoke blasts out into the crowd, a roaring crowd who chant along with the lyrics.

Make his fight on the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside
Shouting gun, on they run through the endless grey
On they fight, for the right, yes but who's to say?

Dick Morosi: I think your answer is on its way, Seth! He’s been hinting at this entrance for the past few weeks!

Seth Ericson: Why couldn’t he follow Wulf’s advice and go for being a Hobbit? It would make me less jumpy!

For a hill men would kill why? They do not know
Stiffened wounds test their pride
Men of five, still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane from this pain that they surely know

David Zinkus:Coming down to the ring, from Krakow, Poland… Weighing in at two hundred and fifty seven pounds… “The Polish Spirit”, “The Morning Star”, “THE WITCH KING OF ANGMAR”… ANDREAAAAAAASSSSS…. LASSSSSIEEEEEWWWWIIIICCCZ!!!

The crowd let out another devastating roar as in rode the Lord of the Nazgûl! A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. Clad in black, a spiked crown upon his head, he rides down on a mighty black steed, staring out into the gasping audience, a wicked Morgul blade in one hand, a spiked Morning Star in the other. The Lord of the Nazgûl, guides his horse down the ramp way under the archway that no enemy ever dares pass.

For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls

The Witch King of Angmar continues his ride under the archway, each set of swords dropping as he passes underneath them. As he passes by the final set, he carefully dismounts into the sea of fog. He takes a few steps forward, his armoured and cloaked head staring out into the wild Los Angeles crowd.

Take a look to the sky just before you die
It is the last time you will

Will

As the final ‘Will’ rings out, he drops the blade down to the ground, followed by the Morning Star, both of them disappearing into the white smoke. He then takes his time, climbing the stairs as he takes off the helmet and enters the squared circle. He paces to the centre of the ring, head bowed in thought.




As he removes the robe, he lets it fall down to mat below as the crowd goes wild, letting out a deafening ‘HO-LY SHIT’ chant as they see what is revealed.



He stands there in a mocking crucifix pose, his fists clenched as he lets out a deafening and bloodcurdling roar of defiance. Andreas Lasiewicz stands there, in a special made ring gear. White tights with a dark and bloody Morning Star on one side, and bitter and twisted sword on the other. His face his covered in war paint, white with various shades of grey to show the Witch King in his true form. His hair is dyed grey and his entire torso is painted up grey and white, blue veins creeping out like the lightning flashes that have accompanied his entrance. He glares out into the crowd, a sly and sickening smirk upon his face and his eyes burn like an unholy inferno.



Dick Morosi: There were nine Nazgul, nine Nazgul to represent nine years, NINE WHOLE YEARS that Andreas Lasiewicz has been undefeated on pay per view. But is this the night that the Witch King falls?



Seth Ericson: This could well be the night!

A moment passes as the ever buzzing EXODUS fans remain in their seats in a quiet hush, only for that humming to be broken due to commotion in the stands. Multiple spotlights focus on various unidentified men pushing through the stands until they hop over the barricade. They are about ten or fifteen, all dressed to the nines and all holding what appear to be replica semi-automatic rifles. They converge in the middle of the ramp, pointing their weapons at the entryway, as if they’re waiting for someone to emerge. The titantron flickers, revealing a lavish office, filled with tv monitors, chairs, a desk and a large red carpet in what appears to be a recreated scene from the movie Scarface. Inside the office we see a figure, dressed in a suit who watches the footage on the screen, footage of what appears to be ringside, evidenced by shot of the gunmen on the ramp. With his back to the audience, we can here the figure addressing the world in a British accent.

”You want to play games, okay, I play with you…”

Grabbing a massive gun off a table, the figure begins to turn around.

”I play with you… come on.”

The figure reveals himself to be none other than Mr. EXODUS, Johnny Cannon, as he stares into the camera.

”Okay you wanna play rough? Okay!"

Cocked and loaded, The British Mamba looks into the camera with fierce determination.

”SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!”

The tron suddenly shuts off, as well as the lights in the arena, filling Staples Center with complete darkness. After a brief moment to build suspense, a MASSIVE explosion erupts at the entrance tunnel. The lights suddenly flash back on, and the audience feast their eyes on the carnage at ringside. Gunman after guman lie strewn across the arena floor, as if they had been all blown away by some big gun. The crow buzzes and chirps at the sight, and in response to the brilliant pyrotechnic display they just witnessed. “Cry” by Rick Ross suddenly blasts through the sound system washing over the EXODUS faithful as the attention of everyone in the Staples Center turns toward the entrance ramp. The excited fans begin throwing their negative energy as they await the arrival of the second competitor in the contest.

Lord forgive me for my sins,
But may I strike down an get vengeance,
Murder my homeboy, Why you doin like that,
Niggas getting churched up, Time for the get back,
Found him last night, four shots in his back,
no leads to the case, Triple C's will handle that, Just bought a new swo?
In the streets im sworn,
Its time for the murder ride, all on board,
Give me them sticks, s-k, s-k's, m-11's

The titantron flickers back to life to show the words "MR. EXODUS" before fading away to show 'Johnny Cannon' in a yellow font. The screen fades away to display many clips of The British Mamba wrestling whilst switching to footage of his many exploits - hotel parties, limousine rides, gambling, womanizing etc.

When tha hammer fall,
Dats for the trigger pull,
Another maggot falls,
Split down in beu ?
What do witness's witness?,
Plus we handle my biznesss,
Another clip of snitches,
While they looking at bitches,
Feel like im brainwashed,
To finally ?
Caught 8 bodys in four weeks im on fire,
Cuz I want you to cry,
Im killin your gleam,
Im sending your team,
They killin for me,

The curtains ruffle at the top of the entrance ramp, and out comes the EXODUS Original, Johnny Cannon. He receives a loud chorus of boos, as he stands dawned in a black blazer from Paul Smith which is merely draped over his shoulders as opposed to being worn, with a rose resting in the breast pocket. Underneath the expensive coat, The British Mamba is bare chested, while he dawns MMA style shorts with a camouflage color scene. In the hands of the Londoner is a Colt AR-15, with grenade launcher. Following him is his manager, Quinn Goodrich, who wears a three piece suit as usual.

David Zinkus: And his opponent. Being accompanied to the ring by Quinn Goodrich, from London, England, standing at six foot, three inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds. He is the self proclaimed ‘Greatest Man That Ever Lived’, 'Cinderella Man' and the ‘British Mamba'; Ladies and gentlemen... this is #MrEXODUS.... Johnny! CANNON!

Seth Ericson: What an entrance. What a man. This is Johnny Cannon, in his final match in the company and boy is he going out like a star.

Dick Morosi: A very cinematic entrance, to say the least. However, will be going out like Tony Montana did? That's the question, and if you ask Andreas Lasiewicz the answer is yes.



Cannon walks down the ramp, stepping over the carcasses of the gunman whilst he points his gun at the crowd and fires pretend shots at the audience on either side of him, all the while Quinn Goodrich marches behind him, flipping a one fingered salute to the fans. Johnny reaches the stairs and climbs them in a rhythm, each foot hitting the steel at the right time, his blazer flapping in the air behind him. When he ascends the stairs completely, he slowly removes his blazer letting it drop to his feet before entering the ring. As he steps through middle and top ropes he carries his momentum into a Shawn Michaels-esque spin, before positioning himself carefully in the middle. Holding the Colt AR-15, Cannon points it right at Andreas Lasiewicz

Ya I want you to cry , ya look at me cookin that ether,
Rollin down your block, 3 deep , got my pistol in my lap,
See me underneath the sink,
I aint come to die, I aint come to talk , boy I came to see you cry,
Let me see you off,
Now cry, cry, cry, cry,cry, nigga cry, cry, cry,

Cannon continues to stand in the middle of the ring as the music dies down and the chanting of the crowd quietens. MR. EXODUS slowly backs away to the corner, handing the gun to Goodrich who whispers some pre-match tactics into his ear. From there, Johnny slowly walks tward the ropes, hooking his arms back on them before bouncing several times, beginning his mental preparations and prerequisites as Quinn drops down from the apron.

Dick Morosi: Lets get to the tale of the tape here. Both Johnny Cannon and Andreas Lasiewicz are Triple Crown Champions. Both captured the Tag Team, International, and World Titles. Of course, The Morning Star lost the the EXODUS World Championship in his V2 Defense against Cannon. That was nine months ago. Both competitors have since evolved, and have gone in different paths.

Seth Ericson: Andreas Lasiewicz hasn't wrestled a match since that night in April. He's had this rematch penciled for a long time so you know he'll be game tonight. As for Cannon, well this is his final match in the company after being dismissed by Director Jonathan Collins during the week. This is an important match for both guys, and my money is on Cannon.

Dick Morosi: Your money isn't good, Seth. Besides, Andreas Lasiewicz has bested Johnny both in tag action, and in singles competition.

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but he's 1-1 when they've gone one on one, Dick. That's all that matters. Tonight, one of them is about to be 1-2, and I can't wait to see who.

Andreas Lasiewicz, the man with a well documented truculent, belligerent disposition, approaches Johnny Cannon until the two combustible elements stand eye to eye. The British Mamba doesn't waste any time in running off at the mouth, edging The Morning Star as he almost begs and pleads for the veteran to take a shot at him. Before any fireworks can transpire, senior official Brian Lowery steps in and separates them, putting the proverbial wedge between them before calling for the bell. As the bell chimes thrice, Lasiewicz and Cannon begin circling around the ring, going over the strategies and gameplans once last time before they cautiously advance toward one another.

Seth Ericson: And here we go!

And just like that, the two rivals and mortal enemies lock up for the first time in the contest signaling the official start to one of the most highly anticipated matchups in recent history; the crowd hits a fever pitch, cheering tumultuously for favorite. Unfortunately, fans of The Morning Star are quickly quieted, as their guy doesn’t seem to be having the best time of it due to The British Mamba using his exuberance and determination to outmuscle his heavier foe, pushing him unwillingly into the turnbuckle. Johnny Cannon presses his forearm hard into Lasiewicz’s jaw, and runs off at the mouth whilst he uses it to hold him at bay until referee Brian Lowery’s count reaches his earlobes. At four the Triple Crown Champion innocently throws his arms into the air, seemingly agreeing to the clean break. But the gestures lasts all but two seconds as the Englishman acquaints his fellow European with a thick concentration of mucous that blasts him in the face. Andreas, calmly removes the substance from his facial features, as Cannon steps back with a loud chuckle to draw the ire of the fans - but he isn’t laughing long as Las’ disposition sharply changes as he bursts out of the corner like a pitbull off it’s leash, charging at the debonair douchebag. However, Cannon keeps his wits about him and quickly hides behind the zebra clad official, using him as a human shield to put some distance between he and the mad that wants to rip his head off.

Dick Morosi: A COMPLETE, and utter show of disrespect from Johnny Cannon. That’s the sort of behavior that has lead to his impending dismissal from EXODUS.

Seth Ericson: Mr. EXODUS knows Lasiewicz can’t stand him. He’s trying to piss him off and use that emotion to get The Morning Star off his game - that’s genius!

The audience doesn’t like this one one bit as they let know Cannon exactly how they feel, booing loudly. Not that Mr. EXODUS gives a damn, mind. It does, however, distract him for a split second as he steps back to greet the crowd with the vulgar British two finger salute. This gives Lasiewicz a window of opportunity as he shoves the ref aside and charges forward with a Polish Hammer. But Johnny has seen enough matches of his opponent’s matches to know that the successful landing of such a move could spell his doom, and quickly circumvents the attack. Andreas quickly spins around in pursuit, and steps into a collar and elbow tie as both men lock up in the middle of the ring, arms entwined. They engage in a fierce tug of war, with both competitors trying to push against each other. They seem even at first, but eventually the returning Polishian fresh off a six month hiatus wins out, and the brash Brit finds himself being driven back into the corner.

The rugged veteran pushes his arms into Cannon’s collar, keeping him subdued. Leaving one arm near his foe’s neck, Las cocks back with his left elbow as he measures Cannon up for his first show. Johnny desperately tries to wriggle free, but that forearm to the neck prevents him from doing so, leaving him open to a vicious show clean across the bridge of his nasus. The shot reverberates throughout Staples Center, although it’s unclear whether it’s actually the hit itself or the sound of the Brit’s nose breaking. Another elbow comes in. And then a third, sending the Englishman’s head snapping back with each thunderous shot. His eyes already show signs of not being quite there after the precise strikes, but before too many, he’s granted a reprieve of sorts. After a good dozen elbows, Lasiewicz takes hold from underneath Johnny’s underarm, his other grabbing a handful of the British Mamba’s trunks as he takes a couple steps away from the turnbuckle - then uses the momentum to toss Cannon clear over his shoulder, driving him into the center of the ring to loud cheers.

Seth Ericson: Good Lord! Andreas just unloaded on Mr. EXODUS right there. He doesn’t even care about wrestling the man. He just wants to punch him in the face.

Dick Morosi: And that strategy seems to be working. Woe to the fool that pisses off an already volatile Morning Star. He doesn’t need much provoking to go on a rampage, and you can bet Cannon is regretting poking the bear. Lasiewicz’s aggressive approach has him all out of sorts.

With Mr. EXODUS trying to regather his bearings, Andreas resets himself in the corner, one hand on the ropes to build up his run as he waits for the moment his victim starts to rise, as Cannon struggles up to one knee whilst he shakes those blows out of his head. The Morning Star closes the gap in the blink of an eye, and before Johnny even knows what happened his head is snapping back from the mat, while Las sits on top of him in a full mount to drive a stiff forearm into his visage… and then another one, and then ANOTHER one. There seems to be no other option for the stunned Brit than to kick and squirm as much as he can to create an opening, or possible defense against his enemies barrage. The flailing causes Andreas to raise his body off of the Londoner momentarily, which gives the self proclaimed “Greatest Man That Ever Lived” a chance to wriggle free, something he does without hesitation. At the urge of Quinn Goodrich, Cannon rolls under the bottom rope to the safety and sanctuary of the outside, while The Morning Star pulls at his hair in anger and frustration in response to his opponent’s cowardice, before immediately giving chase.

Dick Morosi: Despite all the jawing Cannon did for two weeks, he doesn’t look like he wants any piece of Lasiewicz. Look at him running for the hills.

Seth Ericson: Oh come on, Dick. Try not to be so one sided. Mr. EXODUS is simply trying to get a breather and regroup.

Dick Morosi: You call that regrouping? The bastard has his tail between his legs, and he’s leaving a yellow streak on the floor of the Staples Center.

Seth Ericson: That’s fine. They needed a new paint job anyway.

Johnny stumbles away in the most delirious of fashions, not looking back as he and Goodrich begin hightailing it from ringside, deciding it better to go out like a coward than in a bodybag. The act garners loud boos from the fans, who jeer Cannon for not fighting like a man. Not like he cares though, evidenced by the flagging gesture he makes as he dismisses the opinions of the EXODUS lifeblood. However, there’s one man he can’t ignore, a man that isn’t about sit back and let Johnny head for the exit. As The British Mamba marches up the ramp, he is oblivious to the fact that The Morning Star is hunting him down and is only a few strides in his rear view. Those few strides are quickly burned by the predacious Polishian as he leaps like a viper with the venom to boot, dropping Cannon to the steel ramp from a clubbing forearm to the head whilst Goodrich disperses to secure his own safety. Andreas wastes no time in mounting the Brit once again, laying into the back of his head with elbows strikes; the aforementioned strikes forcing Brian Lowery to forego his ten count to warn Lasiewicz of an impending disqualification if he doesn’t relent. The former World Champion does concede, only to grab Cannon around the head and pull him up to his feet before launching him hard into the unforgiving metal security barrier. Mr. EXODUS howls in pain as his back takes the brunt of the impact, his face contorting in response to the pain traveling through his spinal vertebrae. His once wincing face is suddenly rearranged with a VIOLENT forearm, dropping Johnny to the floor, leaving him open to a mudhole stomping as Las relentlessly drives his boot into his nemesis’ chest and breadbasket.

Dick Morosi: Andreas Lasiewicz is beating the living hell out of Johnny Cannon and this crowd is going wild at the sight of it. He’s being taught a lesson in respect right now, Seth.

Seth Ericson: Brian Lowery needs to do his job. Las is clearly out of his mind, and he’s just allowing that madman to wreak havoc like Kobe in a motel room. He needs to get this under control before things get any more out of hand.

Dick Morosi: Oh you stop it, Seth. Cannon is getting exactly what he deserves - an attitude adjustment.

Seth Ericson: Yeah, courtesy of a man who needs anger management therapy. I guess life is funny that way.

Cannon lies wincing against the metal barrier, looking up with glassy eyes at the man who is tearing him a new one. With one final stomp, the Krakow Buzzsaw ceases his assault just for a moment, long enough to acknowledge the ten count being administered against him. Hoisting the former shell of what used to be The British Mamba up to stand, Lasiewicz slowly strides over to the ring, half-dragging his near-dead opponent along with him. As they reach the ring apron, Andreas brings things to an abrupt halt, before rocking his foe with a European Uppercut which causes further quiets the usually loquacious Brit as collapses across the apron. Las takes the time to roll into the ring for all of a half second before sliding back out to the arena floor - it may not be long, but more than anything it forces Brian Lowery to restart the count. Or so we thought, as The Morning Star shoots the official a murderous glare that lets him known counting the Polishian out is not in his best interests. The referee noticeably stalls before restarting the count, fearing the rampage of the savage staring daggers at him. Meanwhile, the energy of the crowd hasn’t dropped a single bit, their volume remaining vociferous since the opening salvo, and the last thing they want to do is calm down as it seems their hero is feeding off of their exuberance. Focusing his attention back on his rival, going back on the attack as he grabs Cannon by the head before slamming it into the ring apron several times.

Dick Morosi: At this rate we may need a ref stoppage. I’ve never seen a fight this one sided in all of my years in this business.

Seth Ericson: The fans here tonight can’t say the same. They get to watch the Lakers get trashed every night. This is just another night at Staples Center for them.

The spectators pop loudly after ever “THUD” sound as Cannon’s cranium continuously bounces off of the apron. The Polishian looks around for a moment, acknowledging the support from the fans, before his attention is grabbed by an approach figure - Quinn Goodrich. Lasiewicz relinquishes his grip of Johnny’s head for a moment as he takes a step toward his foe’s dastardly manager. Quinn immediately recoils in fear, backpedaling a few paces in haste to deter Andreas from coming any closer. However, the Brit’s intrusion created a window of opportunity for his client to convalesce. Once The Morning Star turns toward him, The British Mamba strikes, as he quickly lifts his hands up, before vindictively grinding his fingers into Lasie’s facial features. After cowardly, and spitefully racking the living legend’s eyes, Johnny doubles him over with a well placed knee to the solar plexus. Seizing the moment, Mr. EXODUS grabs the bent of veteran by his hair and the scruff of his ring tights before stepping forward and launching his opponent into the set of steel ring steps with an almighty, and unforgiving clatter. The audience gasps at the sight, as Andreas’ head both awkwardly jerks as it clashes against the steel, and causes the sound of car crash to echo throughout the spectrum.

Seth Ericson: LORD! Lord have mercy what a collision that was, Dick. Cannon has just turned this match around.

Dick Morosi: Yeah, and off the distraction from Quinn Goodrich. I knew that slimy S.O.B. would play a factor in things tonight, and he’s finally playing his part.

Cannon sits up on all fours, and breathes a sigh of relief due to the fact that he’s still in one piece despite being beaten to a pulp since the opening bell. With a cocksure grin on his sweaty mug he crawls over to the ring steps, peering at the carnage like a curious child who wants to see if there’s greener pastures on the other side of a white picket fence. He sees the form of Andreas Lasiewicz lying motionless, and the image causes the smirk on his face to grow wider. Slowly, he lifts himself up to a standing position and takes the opportunity to gloat drawing the booing of the crowd. As he listens to the negativity in the air, his mind illuminates with an idea. Putting said thought into action, the Brit slowly drags his opponent to his feet, whilst he begins to backtrack up the steel stairs. Johnny wraps arm around Las’ head, trapping him in a front facelock as he hooks one of the Polishian’s arms behind his neck. He pauses for a brief moment, looking out at the crowd who watch in anticipation, knowing something nefarious is in the works, intimated by sick grin plastered on the British Mamba’s countenance. Finally, with a loud cry Cannon lifts The Morning Star into the air, before dropping down to spike the grizzled veteran’s cranium into the canvas with the -

Seth Ericson: CANNON DRIVER II. CANNON DRIVER II ONTO THE STEEL STAIRS!

Dick Morosi: GOOD LORD!

Andreas’ carcass collapses onto the cold floor where he is left staring up at the ceiling while his adversary lies on the stairs, groaning in pain due to the maneuver taking a toll on him as well. While he rests, he hears the count of the referee in the background. FOUR! Cannon slowly leans up off the stairs, and steps down with a grimace, clutching at the swell of his back. FIVE! Johnny turns around to sneer down at Lasiewicz who remains spread eagled and visibly unconscious, and slowly begins to pull him up. SIX! Andreas is pulled to where he stands straight up, and Cannon immediately places a hand on the back of the Polishian’s neck. The British Mamba then traps Las’ legs with his own and sweeps Andreas forward, performing a Drop Toe Hold that makes the vet’s face smash into the side of the ring apron. SEVEN! Goodrich cheers and applauds as Cannon gets up, then pulls Lasiewicz with him. EIGHT! Lasiewicz’s hair and waist are grabbed as he is thrown under the bottom rope and into the ring, Johnny following immediately after.

Dick Morosi: Lasie looks hurt bad. I think he’s been busted open after getting dropped face-first onto the steel steps.

Seth Ericson: Johnny Cannon promised to beat him to a bloody pulp, he promised to end Las’ career tonight. At this rate he may just do it.

Dick Morosi: I’ve never counted The Morning Star out before, but damn he looks out of it. He may have a concussion, Seth.

Seth Ericson: May? Oh, I can more than guarantee he’s got one. Hell, he probably just had his neck broken in two places. Cannon is hell bent on sending him home in an ambulance, and he might just get his wish.

Cannon takes a moment to recuperate, a narcissistic smile sits on his chops as he buries the air deep into his lungs, the bout seemingly well within his grasp. The Morning Star finally shows signs of life, as he slowly slithers away from his tormentor, crawling on his chest toward the corner. As Lasiewicz turns over to lean his back against the turnbuckle padding, Brian Lowery strides over to check on him. As his head rests against one of the pads Las looks up into the official’s eyes; the veteran has the look of a man who has absolutely no idea where he is, ending any speculation that he may have suffered a concussion as his bell has been visibly rung, and is STILL ringing. The official is completely conflicted, not sure whether to stop the match or allow it to continue to protect The Morning Star’s pride. However, the decision is taken out of his hands as he’s suddenly pushed aside by the British Mamba who proceeds to wash Andreas’ bloody face with the side of his boot again and again, showing absolutely no remorse. Finally, the official pulls him back, both subduing and rebuking the former World Champion, admonishing him to give lay off Lasiewicz. The referee’s demands are met with a cold shoulder as Cannon once again pushes him aside before charging forward with a knee - and said knee CLASHES into the Krakow native's visage, smashing it in.

Dick Morosi: Johnny Cannon’s fighting a defenseless man right now, and he could care the hell less. He’s a sorry excuse for a human being, I’m glad he’s found his way out of the company.

Seth Ericson: You think he cares about how this looks, Dick? Don’t be stupid. This is personal for him. Mr. EXODUS feels that Andreas Lasiewicz came into his company and was undeservingly given the keys to the car he built from scratch. He’s punishing Lasiewicz for that. He's forcing him to acknowledge his greatness.  

Andreas’ eyes become even more weak as Cannon bends down to grab a handful of his black hair, drawing the scorn of Brian Lowery for the tactic. Upon being coerced to his feet, The Morning Star is trapped in the corner, as The British Mamba turns around to sandwich him between his frame and the turnbuckle. From there, the Englishman proceeds to unload on his foe’s cranium with back elbows from every direction. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Again. And Again. His onslaught targeted at former World Champ’s temples succeeds in leaving Lasiewicz even more punch drunk as he is left somewhat slumped in the corner, only held up by the turnbuckle and the his opponent’s frame as it is driven into his chest. With a Schadenfreude-filled smirk, Cannon steps forward a few feet, before leaping back and swinging his leg overhead, cracking his opponent in the side of the head with a blistering Enzuigiri. Lasie’s head is left askew following the collision between cranium and ring boot, whilst the deliver of the debilitating strike is already on his feet and marching to the diagonal corner. The Triple Crown Champion clutches the ring rope, and flashes a sly grin, before launching himself across the ring. Once he’s within striking distance the Londoner bends his right arm swinging it into his opponent’s chin with a thunderous impact, as he lays into Lasiewicz with a high speed European Uppercut. Andreas stumbles out of the corner from the point of impact, then falls face first to the canvas without the slightest bit of protest. The Britton wastes no time in vying for a pinfall, as he flops down to the canvas to roll his adversary over into a lateral press.

Seth Ericson: What a vicious combination of strikes from the greatest striker in the game today. Las is on dream street, Dick.

Dick Morosi: And here’s the count!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR - NO!”

Andreas defies the law of human body, shooting his shoulder off the canvas, much to the light of the EXODUS faithful. There’s an initial display of frustration on the face of the Englishman, but that scowl turns to a vindictive grin as he salivates at the thought of dishing out more punishment. Cannon springs to his feet and plants his boot into The Morning Star’s crimson mask, then lifts the leg higher and delivers a harder stomp. Insistent on exerting his physicals superiority over his opponent, Johnny viciously steps on his rival’s throat, and proceeds to blatantly choke him until Brian Lowery’s five count forces him to relent. At four the Britton ceases his disrespectful, and underhanded gesture, and leans back onto the ropes with a grin on his face as his eyes glance between his opponent, and the crowd. The audience begin a “Lasie” chant in a desperate attempt to will the legend to his feet, only to see Cannon lend a helping hand as he pulls his opponent up by the hair, fire building in his eyes as he prepares to continue his assault. The British Mamba lets his adversary stand up straight and stagger in place for a moment, before he delivers a knee strike to the midsection. As the Polishian doubles over the Britton mightily swings and bends his elbow, the outcropping of bone crashing into the veteran’s already softened cranium. His vision is immediately blurred even further as his braincase attempts to assimilate the damage, his knees buckling from the crushing force behind the elbow strike until he ultimately falls into the ropes.

Dick Morosi: I’ve seen enough, Seth. I don’t need to be a referee to know when a man is no longer in any condition to compete. We all know Andreas won’t quit, it’s not in his DNA, but at this point as an official you have to protect the athlete because Johnny Cannon is not going to let up. Johnny Cannon is going to keep targeting that head until he causes irreversible damage.

Seth Ericson: This is a fight, Dick. This is what these fans wanted, and it’s what both these superstars wanted. They don’t like each other. They don’t respect each other. Coming in their goals were to kill the other man and they've succeeded. 

Dick Morosi: Yeah, but when a fight becomes increasingly one-sided it ceases to be a fight and turns into a mugging. That’s what this is, Seth. Cannon is trying to permanently disfigure The Morning Star.

Seth Ericson: Well in that case I hope he kept that wheelchair, because it’s looking like he’s going to need it for real this time.

The British Mamba quickly Las’ arms and wraps them around the top and middle ropes, trapping him in the cables in a fashion that mirrors a crucifixion as a sinister thought races through his brain about how to torture his victim. The proverbial light-bulb illuminates, the Englishman having formulated the perfect plan of attack - one he fully intends to carry out. Grappling his foe around the head, Cannon swings his arm with tremendous vigor, beaning The Morning Star with a STIFF European Uppercut with an audible ruckus. He follows up with a SECOND, a THIRD, a FOURTH, a FIFTH, and finally a SIXTH, Lasiewicz collapsing to all fours as his brain is left scrambled by the malicious strikes. Dazed and befuddled, the veteran kneels up, only to receive a THUNDEROUS kick to the side of the head, courtesy of a Reverse Roundhouse that wires his eyes shut with a force that knocks him over onto the canvas while Cannon leans back into the ropes for a moment to gather himself. Goodrich immediately climbs onto the apron and gives his client some words of encouragement, as he is wholeheartedly impressed by his performance. Meanwhile, Andreas Lasiewicz begins crawling to the other side of the squared circle.

Seth Ericson: Cannon is getting some last second advice from Goodrich there. Their gameplan has come together perfectly, and now they’re looking to apply the finishing touches.

Dick Morosi: As if anything that man ever has to say is worth hearing.

Seth Ericson: Hey, at least you won’t have to hear him anymore after tonight which is a shame. We won’t get to hear Quinn boast about his client DOMINATING the Morning Star on live television.

Dick Morosi: Well, at least there’s a silver lining.

“HIT HIM IN THE HEAD AGAIN!” is the last bit of encouragement given by Quinn Goodrich as he slaps Cannon on the shoulder and hops down from the apron. The Morning Star begins pulling himself up on the far ropes while Cannon patiently waits for the window to strike to present itself. The British Mamba shakes his right leg, loosening it up, knowing that one well placed strike to the head will end this match once and for all. Lasiewicz pulls himself to his feet and leans on the ring cables for a second, then the instant he begins to turn around into the corner Johnny dashes toward him. Once he is within kicking range, Cannon swings his foot up for a massive Big Boot… but hits nothing but air. Las has enough wherewithal to duck and is now crouched underneath the Britton, getting himself into a perfect squatting position as he lifts Cannon up onto his shoulders before falling back to drive his foe face first into the turnbuckle padding. With Johnny slumped on the turnbuckle Las turns around, then proceeds to step onto the bottom rope, and with the Englishman still on his shoulders Las grabs his legs to secure him in the Electric Chair.

Dick Morosi: What’s Andreas doing here? This is dangerous place for both men as they sit at the top of the mountain.

Seth Ericson: I have no idea but it can only end badly, that’s for sure.

The Californian’s go quiet with anticipation and confusion, eager to see what’s about to transpire before them yet equally unaware of the Morning Star’s intentions. All quickly becomes clear as Lasiewicz presses up on Cannon’s legs, lifting him off his shoulders and into the air. Whilst reclining back, he catches The British mamba, quickly applying a rear waistlock. The two polarizing combatants come crashing down from the top rope, and pancake to the canvas with a resounding thud. The Polishian immediately goes spread-eagle upon landing, contrary to his fellow Triple Crown Champion, whom folds up like an accordion from the bone-crushing collision with the canvas. The once silent arena becomes awakened, with everyone standing on their feet with a bedlam of cheers and a unanimous chant that conveys their shock and appreciation.

“HOLY SHIT!”
“HOLY SHIT!”
“HOLY SHIT!”
“HOLY SHIT!”

Dick Morosi: JUTRZENKA’S WRATH FROM THE TOP ROPE! Listen to this crowd! I cannot believe what I just saw, Seth!

Seth Ericson: They’re dead. They’re both dead. HOLY… Dick what did I just see?

Dick Morosi: You just saw Andreas Lasiewicz prove once again to the world that he IS one of the greatest wrestlers alive. Both men are down, and the roof has just been blown off of Staples Center.

Seth Ericson: That was insane.

Cannon’s body unfolds, as he transitions to a completely supine position to stare up at the ceiling lights, which are the only thing stopping him from slumping into a comatose state. The shooting pain from the innovative German Suplex sweeps through his body, leaving the British Mamba in a temporary state of paralysis. A few feet away, Andreas Lasiewicz is on his back, clutching his head as the effects of having it battered throughout the match were just amplified tenfold from it bouncing off the canvas after such a long fall. Trying his best to ignore this, Andreas slowly crawls over to the fallen Britton, and hooks his right leg to initiate the pinfall.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE - NO!”

Cannon pushes his right shoulder off the canvas, drawing a loud and frustrated moan from the Los Angeles crowd, while Quinn Goodrich remains at ringside, jumping and pumping his fists in the air with glee as Johnny survives that seemingly match ending maneuver to keep himself alive in this epic encounter. Andreas sits up, glaring at the Brian Lowery as he explains that the Brit broke the fall. After nodding in a reluctant understanding, Lasiewicz forces himself to a stand, albeit barely. Slowly but surely, the Londoner is right behind him, and after a few seconds of inactivity both men are on their feet, and turn toward each other. The Egomaniacal Englishman throws a huge chop into Las’ chest, inciting a “WOO!” chant from the crowd. The veteran stumbles back, then immediately answers with a forearm smash to huge cheers from the fans. Cannon’s head falls back, and he turns to the side. After a moment to shake off the cobwebs, he comes back in retaliation with a European Uppercut. The Britton’s reply is received poorly by the fans, who send their boos and their negativity to the former World Champion. The two men go through the motions of trading forearms for uppecuts, almost as if they have nothing left in them to initiate another form of combat. Though a sound striker himself, Lasiewicz’s ability pales in comparison to his counterpart’s, as the MMA veteran of ten years wins the exchange. All it takes is one slip of the wrist, and Andreas is left vulnerable. Taking advantage of his foe’s open posture, Cannon scores with his most devastating European Uppercut of the night. The Morning Star staggers into the ropes, with the cables keeping him upright despite his body wanting him to go down. Johnny grabs a hold of Las’ arm - both upper and lower, and slingshots him to the opposite set of ropes. As he rebounds, Andreas notices Johnny lower his stance, and quickly halts his momentum in time to take advantage. Before he’s aware that he made a mistake, Cannon is paying for it as Las underhooks both arms before lifting him off the canvas to float him over into a Butterfly Suplex.

Dick Morosi: Lunatic High! Andreas has Cannon’s number now. He knew EXACTLY what The British Mamba had planned, and he countered.

Seth Ericson: The old bastard’s running on instinct alone, but damn he’s turning this match on it’s head. Las with the lateral press! And’s here’s Brian Lowery with the count!

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE - NO KICKOUT!”

Once again, Cannon convulses his whole body once to halt the pin. Andreas rolls off of his opponent and then both wrestlers struggle to get to their feet with Las getting there first. That allows him to beat Johnny to the punch, as he takes the Britton down with a hard Clothesline. In need of a second helping, the British Mamba stands back up only to be sent back down with another Clothesline. With the wind knocked out of him, Johnny stumbles to a stand before seeking refuge in the corner. Bad idea. With the ring cut off from him, the ex-World Champion finds himself cornered like a rat as Lasiewicz comes charging in with a corner Clothesline. The force wakes up Andreas’ animalistic side, as he wipes away the blood and sweat that has coagulated on his face and begins to unload on his adversary. The Morning Star pummels the Englishman in the ribs and stomach, leaving the Londoner immobile. Taking a grip of his adversary’s arm now, Las whips Cannon hard into the opposite corner. The Brit bounces off the turnbuckle padding, and careens forward - RIGHT INTO THE POLISH HAMMER!

Seth Ericson: POW! Right in the kisser!

Dick Morosi: POLISH HAMMER! POLISH HAMMER!

The momentum causes Andreas to run forward to the other side of the ring, but he has a new found energy coursing through his veins. The member of The Godfathers of Wrestling spins around, staring cold-bloodedly at Cannon’s unmoving body. Not giving away any time to savour the moment, he goes as fast as he can on all fours before hooking the Britton’s leg.

”ONE! TWO!-”

Dick Morosi: He kicked out! I can’t believe it, and neither can Andreas.

Seth Ericson: Love him or hate him, Johnny Cannon has a fighting spirit that is rivaled by few. He’s absorbed an enormous amount of punishment, but he’s still alive and kicking. That's why he's Mr. EXODUS.

Sensing that he’s closing in on victory, The Morning Star gets up and beats his chest, drawing huge cheers from the fans in attendance. His eyes are squinted, as he has Cannon in his crosshairs, watching as the battered brawler slowly gets to his feet. Johnny eventually turns around, and is met with a stiff shot to the jaw which rocks his world. Andreas hits him again, and again, and AGAIN; it’s an obvious attempt to knock some respect into the Englishman before he sends him packing from EXODUS for good. Cannon tries to send something back, but Andreas ducks and makes a beeline for the ropes. As Lasiewicz rebounds, Cannon quickly crouches down, before planting his hands on the Polishian’s breadbasket and exploiting his momentum against him. The British Mamba springs up, the explosion of his hips channeling enough strength and leverage necessary for him to fling the near two hundred and sixty pounder into the electric filled atmosphere. As he freefalls, the English Assassin shuffled in his position, before raising his leg and firing a vile kick -

Seth Ericson: CARDIAC ARREST!

Right into Lasie’s chest, breaking his sternum in two as he collapses to his knees. Andreas is left gasping for air, his mouth agape as his lungs feel like they’ve been collapsed. Taking a kickboxing stance now, The British Mamba proceeds to fire off shoot kicks into The Morning Star’s chest in rapid succession while the audience counts along, not in support of the kicker but merely for the fact that they have an opportunity to contribute to the contest.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

“FOUR!”

“FIVE!”

“SIX!”

Lasiewicz remains on his knees, winded, and seemingly begging to be put out of his misery. The deliver of the malevolent kicks simply glares at him, until his disposition changes. With a stroke of ego he smiles, realizing that he’s in the driver’s seat and moment’s away from placing only the third blemish on his opponent’s singles record in EXODUS. But of course, Johnny would be Johnny unless he rubbed in the fact that he’s on his way to victory. Garnering loud boos from the spectators, Cannon taunts Andreas with a crotch chop, before shuffling his feet back into his kickboxing stance. With a swinging of the hips he lifts his leg for a Roundhouse - however, the wary Polishian has anticipated the move, as he moves out of the way, ending up behind his foe. With haste The Morning Star gets underneath the Brit, and quickly lifts him onto his shoulders in an Argentine Backbreaker Rack. In one fluid motion he tosses The British Mamba off his shoulders and throws his legs from underneath himself, falling onto his stomach and driving the former World Champion down with a Reverse DDT before the two combatants land on the canvas amidst a nearly unanimous cheer from the crowd.

Dick Morosi: UNFORGETTABLE FIRE! UNFORGETTABLE FIRE OUT OF NOWHERE! IT’S OVER! ANDREAS LASIEWICZ HAS DONE IT!

Seth Ericson: Unbelievable.

As the cheers continue, Andreas simply lies in the position he is in, only having to wait a mere moment for Brian Lowery to begin counting. Quinn Goodrich, however, is able to grab his client’s foot and pull his leg totally straight, getting it under the bottom rope.

”ONE!”

Quinn Goodrich: HIS FOOT’S UNDER THE ROPE!

”TWO!”

Lowery turns to see Cannon’s foot indeed under the bottom rope, then stops the count and points at the very appendage. An amount of booing that equals the cheers heard upon delivery of The Morning Star’s finishing maneuver ensue, and rightfully so. Grinning from ear to ear, Goodrich turns around to provoke the crowd. Unbeknownst to him, Andreas Lasiewicz sits on his knees and glares at him. Having had enough of Quinn’s shenanigans, the veteran climbs to his feet and leans over the ropes, reaching down to get grab the manager of Team Cannon by the head to loud cheers. Quinn flails like a caught fish as he is pulled onto the apron and turns around. Brian Lowery stands behind Lasiewicz, and desperately tries to dislodge him from the suit and tie he has and handful of. Meanwhile, Johnny Cannon has come to, and sees the commotion. Thinking quickly, the British Mamba quickly shoves the referee into Lasiewicz, who then collides with Goodrich sending the manager flying off the apron and spilling to the floor. Seemingly having butted heads with Quinn, Las dizzily turns around - right into a low blow as the Englishman throws an arm up between his legs. As Andreas doubles over with his energy completely drained, Cannon quickly scrambles to his feet and swings his leg in a semi-circular motion. His boot impinges on the cranium of his adversary, and The Morning Star turns around from the force of the impact, then simply falls on his face.

Seth Ericson: ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

Dick Morosi: Once again, that greasy nosed prick Quinn Goodrich inserted himself into this match, and now Johnny is three seconds away from leaving EXODUS with a HUGE win.

Seth Ericson: What a kick to the head. Andreas is out of it, and the referee is coming to.

Dick Morosi: Cannon’s going to steal this match. As if he couldn’t sink any lower. He had his manager buying him time every time he was in trouble, and now he pulls this. Such a class act.

Cannon falls from the pain he is under as he looks toward Andreas Lasiewicz, knowing that all he has to do is pin him and he’ll become the biggest and most coveted free agent in professional wrestling. The Morning Star for all intents and purposes appears knocked out cold, unconscious, and possibly unable to feel the shockwaves of pain being driven through his cerebral cortex. Pining in weakness, the Triple Crown Champion drop to his knees and begins crawling in his foe’s direction. Cannon takes a deep breath, and rolls Las’ deadweight over before collapsing onto his chest. Wholeheartedly convinced that he has won, he doesn’t even bother to hook a leg, simply resting on his opponent to perform a pinfall. Having fully regained his bearings, Brian Lowery slowly begins the count.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

Driven by instinct alone, the living legend and Godfather of Wrestling throws a shoulder up. The crowd immediately rises to its feet in a show of cheers. Disheartened and in disbelief, Cannon simply rolls onto his back, with eyes widened in frustration. With hands cupped around his head The British Mamba stares up at the lights, unable to fathom how The Morning Star was still coherent, let alone not defeated.

Dick Morosi: HE KICKED OUT!

Seth Ericson: How… HOW? How is Andreas Lasiewicz doing this?

Dick Morosi: I can’t even give you an answer, Seth. I don’t know myself. Whatevers driving The Morning Star to keep fighting is the same thing that has made him a living legend in this business. That much I know. And now Johnny Cannon is left wondering what he has to do to beat him.

Seth Ericson: Both men vowed to bring the best out of the other. They wanted to put on one for the ages, and it’s safe to say we’re witnessing just that. Listen to this crowd.

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

Cannon rolls onto his chest and slams his fists into the canvas out of anger and frustration. From a push up position he lifts himself up to his knees and looks down at Andreas’ carcass. Johnny’s teeth are bared, as he seethes his frustration and runs his fingers across his head in a crazed, frantic manner. As his thoughts begin to filter, The British Mamba returns to a stand and slowly backs into the corner. With a murderous expression on his face the Englishman slowly removes the brace on his surgically repaired left knee. With a stamping of the feet he further riles up the crowd, half cheering due to the spirit of competition, while the rest boo with the hopes of breaking the Brit’s focus. But he can’t be removed from his current trance, as he continues to tune up the band for his final number in the company. He stamps his feet again, and again, shaking the canvas and causing The Morning Star to stir. Andreas’ body shrivels with every motion, as he slowly lifts up onto all fours, his head hanging down as he stares at the canvas. Suddenly, as Cannon readies to charge the Polishian’s head snaps up to reveal an almost demonic, animalistic look in his eyes. Like a man possessed The Morning Star cries out in a fiendish howl, the bellow of the beast of sorts which sends a shiver of fear through Cannon’s body.

“YOU’RE GONNA DIE, BOY!”

Shouts The Morning Star, causing the crowd to explode, and inciting the British Mamba into motion. Johnny Cannon charges like a locomotive, while Andreas Lasiewicz suddenly runs on all fours like a mad dog; the former looking The Birmingham Screwdriver, the latter looking to put an end to things in the most brutalist of fashions. However, only one man will succeed as they draw closer. Lasiewicz suddenly leaps into the air, just as Cannon begins to take flight for his Busaiku Knee Kick. The two warriors collide in mid air, with The Morning Star tackling the Triple Crown Champion out of the sky; they land on the canvas, with Andreas sitting on Johnny’s chest in a full mount. Before the MMA specialist can get his guard up the Krakow Killer begins his assault, unloading on his foe’s face with wild forearms and elbows. One after the other. Each one STIFF and VIOLENT. Each strike echoes through the arena, as faint cracks can be heard as the blood steadily begins to flow from Cannon’s nostrils. Appearing to have snapped, appearing to have gone into some other dimension, Lasiewicz continues to send FOREARM and ELBOW after FOREARM and ELBOW until his arm becomes painted in the warm crimson fluid pouring out of his foe’s broken nose. The ground and pound continues even after Johnny Cannon’s frame goes limp, Andreas only relenting until the sound of the ring bell brings him back to reality.

*DING! DING! DING!*

Andreas slides off of Cannon’s lifeless body as the ring bell chimes thrice. He rests his head on the mat, unblinking, and unmoving, save for the his chest heaving due to his hyperventilation.

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentleman, your winner via TKO…. The Morning Star… ANDREAS LASIEWICZ!

WINNER: Andreas Lasiewicz

As "Time" hits the PA system, the bloodied, and battered Morning Star climbs to his feet. The battle weary veteran stands over Mr. EXODUS as Brian Lowery holds his arm high in the air to incredible fanfare from the EXODUS faithful.

Dick Morosi: Andreas Lasiewicz is the victor tonight, in what was one of the most hard hitting, jaw dropping, intense contests in EXODUS history. Neither one of these men will be the same after something like that.

Seth Ericson: And the story, Dick. How ironic that Johnny Cannon spent the whole match targeting Lasie's head in an attempt to concuss him, in an attempt to knock him out. But at the end it Lasiewicz who struck the KO blow. What a match.

Dick Morosi: That was certainly a performance for the ages, and as Andreas celebrates his victory let's head backstage.

We cut backstage moments before she's set to go to the ring, and quickly hiding her special costume underneath a big hoodie is Fiona Collins, who is approached by Tom Matheny.

Tom Matheny: Fiona! A couple words for you before your match tonight against mara! You have to have some worries and concerns over what's about to happen out there, with The Allmother promising a bloodbath.

Fiona is shadowboxing in the back as Tom makes his way over, her eyes lifting to peer at him even though her hood is pulled low over her head.

Fiona Collins: I'm not worried about anything, Tom. In fact, I'm more ready for this than I have been for anything in my career. She wants a bloodbath? I'm going to give the bitch a bloodbath like she's never seen before. I've said it once and I'll say it again: Nobody messes with my family.

Tom Matheny: But have you planned for the idea that maybe...just maybe...she might actually be your sister in law?

Fiona Collins: I have planned for it and my answer still stands. She wants to mess with MY family? She's getting her ass beat.

Tom Matheny: It's falls count anywhere tonight, and you're no stranger to that. Last year at The Autumn Effect, you had that against Jerry Matthews...what's your strategy for this one?

Fiona Collins: Honestly, Tom? I don't have a strategy for this match tonight. I'm just going to go out there and do what I do best and I'm going to make sure to put an end to mara and her little minions. She tells me to "Reach for the Dead?" She should take her own advice tonight.

Tom Matheny: And one last thing, Fiona...you've been on a tear lately. You knocked off Sally Talfourd, you've been hard to top. Do you think winning tonight slingshots you back into contention for the World Title?

Fiona looks over at Tom before she chuckles, her head shaking as a grin curves on her lips.

Fiona Collins: What do you think, Tom?

Tom Matheny: I think that you'd have a good argument for a title shot.

Fiona Collins: And you'd be absolutely correct. It's time for me to earn back my shot and get to the top. But first? I have some demons to slay.

Tom Matheny: Thanks for your time, Fiona.

Fiona Collins: Thank you, Tom.

Grinning, she goes back to shadowboxing before walking off camera for her match. And with that, we're off again.

The feed cuts to a scene of what appears to be the Staples Center. Inside seated in a steel chair is none other than Mr. EXODUS, Johnny Cannon. The Brit is dressed to turn heads as usual, in a three piece suit complimented with gator shoes and a Royal Oak Offshore Diver. The setting around him is empty and dark as he has chosen to shoot this piece when no one is around.

Johnny Cannon: Two years… that’s how long this place has been home to me. I’ve been through it all, too. I’m talking about going through hell and high water, going through the valley of the shadow of death, through the fire and everything that lies in between inside these ropes… these four steel posts.

Mr. EXODUS pauses for a moment, pulling a cigarette from his pocket which he lights and takes a puff from.

Johnny Cannon: Just in case you’ve been living under a bloody rock for the last two weeks, you know that tonight is my final match as a member of this roster. I’ve been forced out. Sent packing by a man who has his head too far up his ass to see that there’s never been a bigger star than me. And there hasn’t. Since the first show in access television in the graveyard slot I’ve been the best at what I do. Whether that’s between the ropes, on commentary, or cutting a shoot. I’ve unapologetically been the cream of the crop here.

The Englishman takes another pull as he looks out at the empty arena.

Johnny Cannon: Since Absent Are The Saints I’ve been asking myself, why? Why Johnny? Why do you do it? When I lost the World Championship I took a step back, and I found myself questioning what I’m doing here every fortnight. For a while I didn’t have the slightest idea. For a while I mailed in matches, gave half efforts, and just wasn’t really invested. I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. Shit. Excuse my language, but fuck it. We’re on PPV. If this is indeed my curtain call, then I’m going to go out in style. I’m going to go out on my terms. I’m going to go out getting some things off my chest.

Cannon takes another puff from the cancer stick, and he contemplates his thoughts.

Johnny Cannon: I think it was Steve Lenton who first said that I’ve never cared about this company. And then that sentiment was shared by Andreas Lasiewicz this weekend. That’s rubbish. Normally when I’m slandered in such a fashion I’d get hype, I’d leap out of my chair, get pissed off, yell and scream… but you see, I’m not doing that tonight. I don’t want to. It’s not even that I’m feeling like I don’t have it anymore to fight the good fight or defend myself, it’s something way past that.

Johnny continues to enjoy the calming effects of the nicotine, as he blows another cloud of smoke into the air.

Johnny Cannon: When EXODUS first started it inspired me. It was the bees knees. I would know, I was there. Remember? When we first opened our doors I had so much energy, so much vigor, so much determination to prove myself and prove my worth in a business that I was relatively new to. I was already in my physical prime, and not long removed from Hollywood, and even less removed from yearly slobber knockers inside the Octagon. But in these last few months I’ve just felt… removed. Not physically, but mentally. It’s taken me a long time to come to grips with what that means, but I think I finally understand why and I’m going to tell the world tonight.

He nods, as he folds one leg over the other and leans back in his seat.

Johnny Cannon: I’m sick of this bullshit. I’m sick of the politics. I’m sick of working harder than anyone else and getting nowhere because so many obstacles have been placed in front of me to keep me at start. I’m tired of having to go the extra mile again and again to not be given an inch. I’m tired of men like Christian Kane coming into EXODUS and pretending like they’re the best thing since sliced bread because they’re friends with the suits and ties which means that every time he screws up they stretch out a safety net to catch him. I’m tired of people like him living off the glory he had five or ten years ago in companies that have long folded. I’m tired of people like Chris Strike coming into my company, thinking he has the right to look down on me as if he didn’t reach the top of the mountain because the powers that be placed him there. He’s a guy who’s never worked for anything in EXODUS. Everything was handed to him because he blew the Director behind the scenes, and waved a Sekigun flag. You don’t know what busting your ass means. Maybe you did a decade ago, but you don’t know what it means to get your hands dirty. The only time they’ve seen dirt is when they’re running through that dirty Brazilian hair of yours.

The British Mamba scoffs and shakes his head.

Johnny Cannon: Listen, because I’m going to tell you the ugly truth about EXODUS, a truth that those wankers in the back are either too blind to see, or too scared to acknowledge. And many who have left this company for what they perceive to be greener pastures will agree with what I have to say. EXODUS is just like high school. You only get noticed, you only get respect if you’re in the ‘in crowd’. It’s all a popularity contest. If you’re apart of the clique - you know the clique run by Jonathan Collins who is the biggest egomaniac I have ever seen, just like the Queen Bee at the lunch table, well you’re living the life. The funny thing about Jonathan is that he only keeps people around him who kiss his ass, who tell him how great he is and how important he is to professional wrestling. If you don’t see his point of view, then you’re an idiot. Then you don’t know anything about this business. Then you’re shown the front door. That’s right. Unless you’re apart of his entourage, you’re a second class citizen. A short change hero. Ask Dom Harter. Ask Erin Daniels. Ask Griffin Hawkins. Ask Anna Molly. Ask Brandon Banks. Ask Brett Sands. Ask any of the names that you heard of that are currently making a name for themselves on the independent scene but couldn’t seem to get any traction in this company.

Cannon chuckles slightly as he takes another slow pull.

Johnny Cannon: Ask them why they left, and are never coming back and they’ll all tell you the same thing - politics. They’ll tell you that they were never given a chance to succeed. And it’s the truth, because they weren't. Just like me. And no, I’m not bitching and moaning as so many of you dense blokes like to point out. I’m simply disgruntled. I’m simply fed up. I’m simply sick of being told I haven’t done enough to prove myself in a company that I wasn’t meant to be anything in, yet a company that I built. Look at my track record, look at my resume, look at the greatest matches in EXODUS history and you’ll see that I was apart of them. Win or loss. You’ll see that what I’ve been saying for the last year, and what I’ve known for the last two… that I’m the best. EXODUS has risen to the top because I carried it there. I’ve set the standard here. My work in and outside of this ring have revolutionized this company. So many of your favorite stars have said that they came to EXODUS for the competition, but it was ME who upped the ante. I transformed this company into a game of oneupmanship with my ability to wrestle anywhere on the card, and have the best match ON the card. I could wrestle ANY opponent, and I could carry them to GREATNESS. And they dare ask me to run gauntlets and jump through hoops to prove my worth?

A scowl growls on Englishman’s mug as he finishes his cigarette, tossing the bud onto the canvas.

Johnny Cannon: Jonathan Collins told me that I’m the greatest story of wasted potential, and I find that interesting. Wasted potential. Let’s look at the roster, let’s look at the people who the Saint of Violence claims I’m not as good as. Hell, we’ll include retired stars too. Guys like Steve Lenton who can’t get out of the shadow of their Tag Team Partner, a guy I’ve knocked out twice proving that he’s got hard muscles but a soft head. There’s guys like Justin Brooks, who left EXODUS what THREE times, and was hyped up like some world beater each time he came back, only to end up beating his dick at the bottom of the totem pole while he watched the world pass him by. What about Angela Jameson. How many matches has she won? I can count them on my finger, and they have a nerve to make her a trainer down in developmental. I weep for those kids. Heather Halliwell. She got lucky one night against Adrien Cochrane, but what was she ever good at but sleeping with World Champions? But hey, when you’ve got a talent you’ve gotta use it right?

Johnny wipes a fake tear from his eye whilst he rubs his chin, pondering his next train of thought.

Johnny Cannon: How about Jimmy Riley? The Risen Star faded and fallen to be chained to a desk, because he couldn’t hang anymore. Don’t tell me it was the bad back, or maybe it was. Maybe your back broke all the times you tried to hold this company on your shoulders like I did, only to find out that you weren’t in my league. Same for Seymour Almasy, another stooge in a cheap suit who thinks he can pass judgement on me after I kicked his teeth in. You enjoy pushing those papers though Mr. Magister, because God knows you never pushed the ratings up your entire time here. Dragons Unleashed. Their talent didn’t travel across the pond it seems. Chandler Scott, a guy who got ran out of town last Summer after his own stablemate humbled him, and showed him that being a big fish in a small pond over inflated his sense of self-importance. And he still doesn’t impress me. Well that’s not true. At least you get to bang Savannah Taylor. You might not be that good a wrestler, but game recognizes game and you pulled yourself some fine tail.

Cannon gestures like he’s tipping his cap off before continuing.

Johnny Cannon: Abby Park. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like she didn’t make me quit at The Autumn Effect 2. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like she didn’t beat me back at March Of War in 2012. But I’m also not going to sit here and pretend like she’s better than me because she’s suddenly found out how to win. Congratulations, love. I’ve been waiting for you to step out of my shadow and make a name for yourself for two years now. Because for the last two years all you’ve been is a charity case, a doormat, a stepping stone, and a curtain jerker. Enjoy your spotlight, it’ll last as long as the dike haircut you’re sporting - which isn’t very long.

The British Mamba shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly.

Johnny Cannon: Every name I’ve mentioned, Jonathan has had the audacity to say that they’re better than me. That they’re better wrestlers than me. I guess accomplishing absolutely fucking NOTHING makes them better than a guy who has done it ALL in EXODUS. Wasted potential… a greater waste of potential than Kliff Ulysses right, Jonathan? I’m so much of a disappointment and a waste of potential that I’ve climbed out of the fucking gutter, and out of the fucking basement to be a fucking TRIPLE CROWN Champion. You know why I bring that Triple Crown up all the time, folks? It’s because it’s only been done by two other people, two people that are talked about like Gods in this company, like the ELITE in this company. They’re Fiona Collins and Andreas Lasiewicz. They’re the only two people in this company who can say that they’re on my level and I’d entertain the notion because they’ve been to where I’ve been. They’ve seen what I’ve seen. They’ve tasted the top of the mountain. But you know the difference between the three of us? Those two don’t have to constantly fight for respect. Unlike me their talent is constantly acknowledged. Why is that? Well it’s simple.

Mr. EXODUS looks right into the camera, as he continues his candid speech.

Johnny Cannon: It’s because unlike them I don’t pretend to be anything other than what I am for the sake of good publicity. And what I am is a man who only cares about himself. No. I don’t pretend to give a damn about any of you people, because I don’t. I don’t care about a single one of you wankers who paid thirty or forty dollars for your ticket tonight, or you idiots at home who paid sixty for the PPV stream, and if you did I’m going to tell you that you got ripped off because this PPV ain’t shit to bat home about. Nobody wants to see some masked buffoon and the usual stereotyped joke of a black wrestler in the opener. Nobody wants to see Chandler Scott and Shozo Arino wrestle in a San Diego Bay Championship match that was thrown together, and has absolutely no hype for it outside of me mentioning it right now. Just like nobody wants to see TROUBLE and Uncensored fight for supremacy in a DEAD Tag Division for titles that haven’t meant shit since they were held, and NEVER lost I might add by the Short Change Heroes. The International Title match will be a bathroom break. Zack Lifer is a joke and Adrien Cochrane is the most dull, boring, and uninteresting professional wrestling ALIVE. I’d literally rather watch paint dry, or sniff paint for that matter than watch him wrestle and I use that term loosely. Fiona Collins is fighting someone else who wants to wage war with EXODUS. We’ve all seen that movie before. And the little bit of publicity the World Title has gotten is a direct result of my involvement with the two people participating in it and if you disagree, you’re a dumbass. There’s no need to beat around the bush there.

Cannon sits forward in the chair now, unfolding his legs as he looks out into the empty bleachers.

Johnny Cannon: If you can’t put two and two together then let me point out the obvious. The real Main Event, the only match worth seeing tonight is my match. Whether it’s because it’s my curtain call, or whether it’s to see me get my supposed just desserts, my match is the only one EVERYONE has been talking about, and the one EVERYONE will have their eyes glued to. That’s because I’m the biggest star in EXODUS. That’s because I AM EXODUS. I’m the most important figure in this company. I’m whole damn show. For two years I’ve pushed the arrow. I’ve turned heads. I’ve gotten people talking. I’ve wrestled five star matches, countless classics, I’ve put on jaw-dropping performance, after jaw-dropping performance be that on one leg, with a concussion, or hopped up on Belvedere and strippers. It’s because nobody can touch me. I’m a maverick. I AM marquee. Countless wrestlers have begged to get a piece of me, have dreamed of wrestling me in hopes of measuring their skill against mine because I’m the measuring stick. You’re NOBODY in this company until you wrestle Johnny Cannon. You’re NOBODY in this company until you beat Johnny Cannon. And even after that you’ll likely still be a NOBODY because a win over Johnny Cannon is so much of a big deal that people start to expect things from you, and the pressure of proving that it wasn’t a fluke is so great that it literally breaks people’s careers.

Cannon nods, as he once again surveys the arena, looking up at the ceiling lights now.

Johnny Cannon: I’m the real Ace of EXODUS. Everything I touch turns to gold or fades to dust at my whim. And you can go ahead and try to disregard what I’ve said. But before you try to argue take a moment to actually listen to what I’ve said. And I mean actually listen... whatever you need to do, if you’ve gotta sit down in the dark with a beer then you do it. You rewind this tape, and you listen to everything I’ve said… because once you do you’ll see that this whole time I’ve been saying nothing but the truth, because I am the truth, and you should be on your knees kissing my feet and begging for me to find a way to stick around.

The Englishman cracks a cocksure grin now as he removes his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his fine tailored suit - this one from Armani.

Johnny Cannon: I’m an EXODUS Original. I’ve appeared on more shows than anyone in the company. The only time I’ve missed an episode is due to an injury, and I don’t mean those fake injuries Fiona gets every time she leaves the company for a few months to plot on how she and Jonathan are going to force feed her down our throats some more when the smart fans are more than sick of her. I’m talking about a legitimate injury like a torn MCL that almost ended my career. An injury I rushed back from to get back to my home, a home I’ve been forced out of by my tyrant of a landlord. Jonathan, you never wanted me here, and for two years you’ve been praying and hoping that every time I failed I’d throw in the towel, but I never did, did I? That’s because I’m a man, and the last real man in professional wrestling. It’s because I’m not a pussy, I’m not a pussy like you. The type of pussy who throws his friends to the wolves when the people who have a vendetta against you come for YOUR head, and yours alone I might add because I remember distinctly… I remember distinctly how Christum Furor promised to end his crusade if you walked away from EXODUS. We could’ve avoided a war but you said no. You said no because you’re a glory hog. You think you are professional wrestling, but you’re just everything that I HATE about professional wrestling and for calling you out on being a hypocrite I’ve been sent packing. And you know what, I happily accept my pink slip.

Johnny gives a thumbs up as he scoffs softly.

Johnny Cannon: I happily accept it because for two years I’ve been trying… for two years I’ve tried to succeed to spite you, thinking that one day it would get you to get your head up out of your ass so you can see how one of a kind I am. It’s funny, it’s funny that so many companies have already been ringing my cell, begging for a sit down, offering contracts to me because they can see that I’m one of if not the best wrestler alive today. They acknowledge my greatness, something you and EXODUS never did and for so long I’ve been bitter over that fact. But tonight, tonight I’m here to say that you can keep your fucking praise because I don’t want it. I don’t need it. Even if I did I couldn’t get it anyway and everyone knows it. Everyone here in Staples Center knows it from the wannabes in the back, to the people in the stands blowing their paychecks just so they can vindicate their lives by living vicariously through ME. They know that regardless of what happens tonight, regardless if I beat Andreas Lasiewicz or lose to him it won’t change my image in your eyes. And that’s fine.

Cannon stands up from his chair now, exiting the ring as he slowly makes his way up the ramp.

Johnny Cannon: It’s fine because when I walk out this arena tonight, I’ll know that I achieved the only thing that matters in this business. In this company. When I walk out of this building and hop in my limousine to my hotel suite to pop bottles of champagne with foreign models and blow more money than I can count… I’ll know that my name is in the record books, in the places where it can’t be torn down, or put through the mud. That’s because I’ve built a legacy in this company and for that I’m going to be immortalized in history. And you know the funny thing about history right? It only remembers the winners and unlike every single loser that will be in this arena tonight…

The British Mamba slides on his Rayban wayfarers as he turns his back to the camera.

Johnny Cannon: I’m a winner.

And walks through the curtain, as the camera pans around the empty arena before the scene fades to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: Strong words from Johnny Cannon.

Seth Ericson: Hopefully he's got the strength to back it up and end Andreas Lasiewicz tonight.

Dick Morosi: We'll get those answers later tonight, but coming up next is a San Diego Bay Title match! Chandler Scott makes his V1 Defense against Shozo Arino next!



The crowd falls into booing as "Anti-Gravity" by Lindsey Sterling hits and the leader of the REVOLUTION steps out onto the stage. He first looks out at the crowd, and their negative reaction to him, shaking his head in disappointment. He then looks up at the ceiling and beyond, looking up for a few moments before nodding and setting off down the ramp.

David Zinkus: From Bunkyo, Tokyo, Japan, weighing in tonight at 205lbs....SHOZOOOOOOOOOOO ARINOOOOOOOOOO!

He steps onto the ring apron and looks up at the sky again for a moment before stepping into the ring, rapidly turning to face the entire crowd before coming to a stop in the corner. He slowly undoes the hoodie he was wearing and ditches it, ready for his match to begin.

Dick Morosi: Shozo Arino has said that the platform to tell his message is taking the San Diego Bay Title, and now tonight he's got that opportunity!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but to get that opportunity, he's got to get past one of the best in the business...and he's the champ!

The sound of an organ plays throughout the arena. The lighting in the arena slowly switches to an orange hue, causing the fans to quickly shift their attention to the entrance way. As "Perfect Strangers" by Deep Purple kicks in, the crowd leaps to their feet to cheer the man that's about to walk out. At around the 30 second mark, Chandler Scott bursts through the curtain as the crowd shows its support with cheers, applause and various shrieks of excitement!

David Zinkus: AND HIS OPPONENT! He is the reigning and defending EXODUS Pro San Diego Bay Champion! He is from Hayannis Port, Massachusetts, and he weighs in at 245 pounds! HE REPRESENTS THE GODFATHERS OF WRESTLING....CHAAAAAAAAANDLERRRRRRR SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

As Chandler makes his way to the ring, he throws up both index fingers in the air as he swaggers his way to the ring. After climbing up onto the apron, Chandler steps through the ropes, springboards up onto the second ropes and poses once more, basking in his glory.

The bell rings and this one is underway. Both men approach the center of the ring and enter a collar-and-elbow tie-up of which Chandler easily takes advantage and transitions the setup into a side headlock. He struggles on the hold for a moment before Shozo pushes him off and into the ropes, Chandler comes back and knocks Shozo down with a stiff shoulderblock!

Dick Morosi: Ouch, what impact by the San Diego Bay Champion!

Seth Ericson: For sure Dick Morosi, I don’t really know why Shozo would have gone into that situation with Chandler, he gives up close to eighty pounds to his opponent!

Shozo quickly rolls over and shakes his head for a second, realizing that ‘Oh, hey, that ain’t gonna work’. He sees Chandler walk closer to him but he stands up and throws a punch, but Chandler catches it, then picks him up and drops him with a quick scoop slam! Chandler then runs to the ropes and comes back, he jumps, dropping a big knee across Shozo’s face…it connects! Chandler goes for a quick cover off the lateral press.

ONE!

TW-KICKOUT!

Shozo kicks out at one and a half! He realizes he needs to get his head back in this game if he wants to win that title tonight, he knows he needs a different plan of attack! Shozo rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope to think something up.

Dick Morosi: This is smart, the challenger is trying to get his bearings straight.

Seth Ericson: I agree, too many times the new guy will run in with a full head of steam and not think straight. And it costs him the match. But Shozo is trying to play things smart.

Shozo after a moment hops up on the apron and Chandler walks over to him, but Shozo reaches out and guillotines the champion off the rope! Chandler staggers back and Shozo rolls in behind him. Shozo kicks Chandler hard on his leg once. Then does it again, Chandler howls in pain from such a hard shot. Shozo goes for a third kick but Chandler catches it, as if to say “Oh no, no, no” but Shozo brings his other foot up and knocks the champion square in the chest with a third fierce kick, sending the champion crashing to the mat on his back! Shozo goes for a quick cover, but the veteran champion quickly powers out before one! But Shozo is quick to continue the offense as he climbs on top of him and starts raining down some brutal punches on Chandler, who has a hard time covering up from this offense! The official starts to admonish Shozo for his vicious use of those closed fists and threatens to start a count, but Shozo moves off of him before he can count.

Chandler slowly tries to stand after getting the sense knocked out of him by those brutal, brutal shots while Shozo is up and goes to the ring apron. He waits for Chandler to get up, then he jumps onto the second rope and springboards off into a flying clothesline! But Chandler catches him in a trapping position, and delivers a trio of headbutts to Shozo! Shozo is dazed from the shots, Chandler picks him up from the waist, Gutwrench Suplex connects on the challenger!

Seth Ericson: Ouch that looked brutal!

Dick Morosi: You said it, I’m glad I’m not in that ring!

Chandler smiles a half-grin as he watches Shozo writhe on the mat from that huge slam, he picks him up and wraps his arm over Shozo’s chest, completing the abdominal stretch submission! Chandler pulls on Shozo as he yelps in pain, then Chandler uses his free right hand to rain down some extra pressure from those shots on Shozo’s ribs! The shots are stiff and brutal.

Dick Morosi: This is smart by the champion!

Seth Ericson: Agreed Dick, I can’t fault the champion here.

The official asks Shozo if he wants to submit but Shozo yelps again then shakes his head no! He’s a fighter and he is determined to win that belt! Shozo wrenches his body, but Chandler isn’t letting go, so in a last-ditch effort Shozo stomps Chandler’s foot, the distraction causes the champ to loosen his grip on the powerful hold and Shozo is able to slip out! Chandler looks up, Shozo looks dead into his eyes and nails a lightning-quick spin kick that sends the champ doubling over in pain! Shozo takes advantage, grabbing Chandler and taking him over in a beautiful vertical suplex, floating over into a pinfall!

ONE!

TWO!
THR-KICKOUT!


Dick Morosi: Hey, now the challenger is getting there!

Seth Ericson: Yeah the champion almost became a former champion after that sequence!

Shozo pounds the mat in mild frustration, he thought that float over could have snuck in the back door there! Chandler rolls around the mat, clearly disoriented from that suplex, Shozo climbs the turnbuckle, perched like a Gargoyle, watching his prey. Chandler finally stands up and Shozo jumps off, diving spear connecting!

…Or at least it would have, but Chandler grabs him, hoists him onto his shoulders and drops his challenger with a vicious Powerslam! Chandler covers.

ONE!

TWO!

Kick out just barely by Shozo!

Now it’s the champion’s turn to display a little emotion, Chandler pounds the mat in frustration, he’s ready for this match to end with a successful title defense! Chandler gets to his feet before his opponent though and calls for his specialty: The Piledriver! He stalks Shozo, awaiting him to get up. Shozo finally does and Chandler grabs him, puts him in position…but no! Shozo won’t go! Instead he rolls through, hooking Chandler in a Victory Roll!

ONE!

TWO!

Chandler manages to beat the pinning combination!

Dick Morosi: Wow this match has been so back and forth!

Seth Ericson: I agree with you , I don’t know who will win…but it’s very clear that the two of them want it equally!

Both men get to their feet, as they are both looking exhausted. Shozo grabs Chandler, as he does, Chandler pulls his arm back, and lands a brutal Heart Punch, which knocks Shozo off his feet onto the mat. Chandler grabs Shozo around his head pulling him back up. Chandler pulls his arm back around, and nails him with another Heart Punch. Chandler The bell rings and this one is underway. Both men approach the center of the ring and enter a collar-and-elbow tie-up of which Chandler easily takes advantage and transitions the setup into a side headlock. He struggles on the hold for a moment before Shozo pushes him off and into the ropes, Chandler comes back and knocks Shozo down with a stiff shoulderblock!

Dick Morosi: Ouch, what impact by the last hard man!

Seth Ericson: For sure Dick Morosi, I don’t really know why Shozo would have gone into that situation with Chandler, he gives up a few pounds to his opponent!

Shozo quickly rolls over and shakes his head for a second, realizing that “Oh, hey, that ain’t gonna work”. He sees Chandler walk closer to him but he stands up and throws a punch, but Chandler catches it, then picks him up and drops him with a quick scoop slam! Chandler then runs to the ropes and comes back, he jumps, dropping a big knee across Shozo’s face…it connects! Chandler goes for a quick cover off the lateral press.

ONE!

Shozo kicks out at one and a half! He realizes he needs to get his head back in this game if he wants to win that title tonight, he knows he needs a different plan of attack! Shozo rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope to think something up.

Dick Morosi: This is smart, the challenger is trying to get his bearings straight.

Seth Ericson: I agree, too many times the new guy will run in with a full head of steam and not think straight. And it costs him the match. But Shozo is trying to play things smart.

Shozo after a moment hops up on the apron and Chandler walks over to him, but Shozo reaches out and guillotines the champion off the rope! Chandler staggers back and Shozo rolls in behind him. Shozo kicks Chandler hard on his leg once. Then does it again, Chandler howls in pain from such a hard shot. Shozo goes for a third kick but Chandler catches it, as if to say “Oh no no no” but Shozo brings his other foot up and knocks the champion square in the chest with a third fierce kick, sending the champion crashing to the mat on his back! Shozo goes for a quick cover, but the veteran champion quickly powers out before one! But Shozo is quick to continue the offense as he climbs on top of him and starts raining down some brutal, MMA style punches on Chandler, who has a hard time covering up from this offense! The official starts to admonish Shozo for his vicious use of those closed fists and threatens to start a count, but Shozo moves off of him before he can count.

Chandler slowly tries to stand after getting the sense knocked out of him by those brutal, brutal shots while Shozo is up and goes to the ring apron. He waits for Chandler to get up, then he jumps onto the second rope and springboards off into a flying clothesline! But Chandler catches him in a trapping position, and delivers a trio of headbutts to Shozo! Shozo is dazed from the shots, Chandler picks him up from the waist, Gutwrench Suplex connects on the challenger!

Seth Ericson: Ouch that looked brutal!

Dick Morosi: You said it, I’m glad I’m not in that ring!

Chandler smiles a half-grin as he watches Shozo writhe on the mat from that huge slam, he picks him up and wraps his arm over Shozo’s chest, completing the abdominal stretch submission! Chandler pulls on Shozo as he yelps in pain, then Chandler uses his free right hand to rain down some extra pressure from those shots on Shozo’s ribs! The shots are stiff and brutal.

Dick Morosi: This is smart by the champion, it’s well-documented the challenger has had multiple rib injuries.

Seth Ericson: Agreed Dick, I can’t fault the champion here. I’d do the same thing. It’s like a bull’s-eye.

The official asks Shozo if he wants to submit but Shozo yelps again then shakes his head no! He’s a fighter and he is determined to win that belt! Shozo wrenches his body, but Chandler isn’t letting go, so in a last-ditch effort Shozo stomps Chandler’s foot, the distraction causes the champ to loosen his grip on the powerful hold and Shozo is able to slip out! Chandler looks up, Shozo looks dead into his eyes and nails a lightning-quick spin kick that sends the champ doubling over in pain! Shozo takes advantage, grabbing Chandler and taking him over in a beautiful vertical suplex, floating over into a pinfall!

ONE!

TWO!

The champion kicks out at two and a half!

Dick Morosi: Hey, now the challenger is getting there!

Seth Ericson: Yeah the champion almost became a former champion after that sequence!

Shozo pounds the mat in mild frustration, he thought that float over could have snuck in the back door there! Chandler rolls around the mat, clearly disoriented from that suplex, Shozo climbs the turnbuckle, perched like a Gargoyle, watching his prey. Chandler finally stands up and Shozo jumps off, diving spear connecting!

…Or at least it would have, but Chandler grabs him, hoists him onto his shoulders and drops his challenger with a vicious Powerslam! Chandler covers.

ONE!

TWO!

Kick out just barely by Shozo!

Now it’s the champion’s turn to display a little emotion, Chandler pounds the mat in frustration, he’s ready for this match to end with a successful title defense! Chandler gets to his feet before his opponent though and calls for his specialty: The Piledriver! He stalks Shozo, awaiting him to get up. Shozo finally does and Chandler grabs him, puts him in position…but no! Shozo won’t go! Instead he rolls through, hooking Chandler in a Victory Roll!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-NOOOOOO!

Chandler manages to beat the pinning combination!

Dick Morosi: Wow this match has been so back and forth!

Seth Ericson: I agree with you Dick Morosi, I don’t know who will win…but it’s very clear that the two of them want it equally!

Both men get to their feet, as they are both looking exhausted. Shozo grabs Chandler, as he does, Chandler pulls his arm back, and lands a brutal Heart Punch, which knocks Shozo off his feet onto the mat. Chandler grabs Shozo around his head pulling him back up as he looks around the Staples Arena before hitting the HARVARD HAMMER! Chandler drops down over Shozo covering him!

ONE..

TWO..

THREE!

David Zinkus: The winner of this match and STILL the Exodus Pro San Diego Bay Champion…Chandler Scott!!!

Dick Morosi: What a match!!

Seth Ericson: I am so glad I was able to witness this match!

WINNER (and STILL San Diego Bay Champion): Chandler Scott

Dick Morosi: Say what you will about Chandler Scott, but the man continues to prove why time and time again, people have labeled him the future...but with the stars of tomorrow in the spotlight tonight in EXODUS...the future may have just arrived!

Seth Ericson: Dick, Shozo gave it his all, but the look on his face still reads elation. I have a distinct feeling the loss doesn't matter, because he may still have Shinji Uchikawa at his side.

Dick Morosi: While Shozo gathers himself, let's take a few moments and show you a special video put together about a man in the next match. It's a year in review for The Big...Bad...Brooks!

The screen starts with an overhead shot of Justin Brooks standing in the middle of the empty ring in the Staple Arena. His taped hands on his waist as the hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled up over his head only showing the chiseled and square jaw of the man call the Monster. Slowly Justin reaches up with a single hand pulling his hood back with a single motion as Mobb Deep's Shook Ones Part II pours into the scene.

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

scared to death, scared to look

they shook

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

scared to death, scared to look

[The Downfall of Us All]

[The clip of Justin Brooks driving the former Exodus Pro World Champion, Adrien Cochrane into the mat with the Hook 'n Ladder]

there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds

some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns

cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones

he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one

[Absent Are The Saints]
[The Crucible]

[The Monster continues to terrorize the Crucible...]

[Punching Devil-Killer out of the ring..]

[..clothesling the former World Champion before delivering a Hook 'n Ladder to Collins outside of the ring.]

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

scared to death and scared to look

(he's just a shook one)

they shook...

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

scared to death and scared to look

(we live the live that of diamonds)

[Ascendancy]

[..Justin Brooks leaps from the top rope with Zack Lifer on his shoulders, crashing through the near table as it disintegrates into hundreds of wooden shards.]

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

scared to death and scared to look

they shook...

'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks, crooks..

livin' the live that of diamonds and guns

there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds

but some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns

cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones

he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one

[Long Way Down]

[Lifer goes for a Forced Suicide with barbed wire wrapped around his knee..]

[...but Justin is waiting and drives Lifers own knee into his face with Patron Saint, busting Lifer wide open.]

To all the villains and a hundred dollar billas

To real brothers who ain't got no dealings

G-yeah, the whole Bridge, Queens get the money

41st side (he's just a shook one)

keepin' it real (you know)

Queens get the money...

[The Autumn Effect]

[Being pushed off from a failed Texas Cloverleaf, Angela Jameson bounces off the ropes before being sent end over end by The Reminder by a lunging Justin Brooks.]


We fade back to Justin bouncing slightly on balls of his feet, his large ham-sized fist in front of his face in a fighting position as the scene goes to black to show the monster is ready for battle in Los Angeles...