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We come back from commercial and walking down the hallway with a mile wide grin on his face is the Assistant Director of EXODUS Pro, Darrin Stearns! Approaching a door, he knocks on it before opening the door, finding his wife Tiffani starting to clean up after her match against Griffin Hawkins.

Darrin Stearns: Someone's been learning to swing a weapon or two.

Tiffani responds with a slight smile before she steps closer towards where her husband is standing and affectionately taps up against his chest with her index finger.

Tiffani Stearns: What can I say? I had a good teacher.

Darrin Stearns: Well, y'know...

Darrin seems to turn a slight shade of red, leaning his head down for a moment.

Darrin Stearns: I don't think Savannah's gonna know what hits her in two weeks in New York City. Think the bright lights of Broadway are ready for the prettiest girl to swing a chair?

Tiffani Stearns: I'm impressed you can make a compliment out of something like a hardcore match.

Darrin Stearns: It's a talent I have, I guess.

Tiffani smiles as she wraps her arms around Darrin's waist even though she hasn't finished cleaning herself off after the events of her hardcore match earlier.

Tiffani Stearns: A pretty good one too.

Darrin leans his head down to kiss the lips of his wife, looking more calm than he had in quite some time.

Darrin Stearns: You know, Jon and I dug up something especially for you to use in New York City in two weeks.

Tiffani raises one of her eyebrows slightly.

Tiffani Stearns: You did?

Darrin Stearns: It's an old favorite of ours.

Darrin grins and kisses her forehead.

Darrin Stearns: Hope you like baseball...

Tiffani Stearns: Something tells me I could grow to like it here soon.

Darrin Stearns: Nobody ever swung for the fences like us with this bad boy.

Tiffani Stearns: Hopefully I can live up to that.

Darrin Stearns: Don't worry, I can teach you a secret or two.

Tiffani Stearns: I learn quickly too.

Darrin Stearns: I know you do. And win, lose, or draw, I am exceptionally proud of you.

Tiffani smiles before she leans in closer to place a quick kiss on the lips of her husband.

Tiffani Stearns: That makes it even better if you ask me.

Darrin Stearns: How about we head home a little early? I think Jon and Fi got this.

Tiffani Stearns: Can we get something to eat first? I'm starving right now.

Darrin Stearns: As you wish.

Tiffani Stearns: Now you just do that on purpose because it makes me giddy.

Darrin Stearns: Is that the worst thing I could do?

Tiffani Stearns: It might be.

Darrin Stearns: Guess that makes up for the jorts...

Tiffani can't help but laugh slightly.

Tiffani Stearns: There's one thing I won't emulate.

Darrin starts to move her back behind the changing screen in the dressing room, grinning the whole time.

Darrin Stearns: You sure? I mean...you might make jean shorts look good...

Tiffani Stearns: I'm start to believe you'd think that I'd make a potato sack look good.

Darrin Stearns: We could test that theory tonight.

Tiffani Stearns: As you wish.

Darrin finally gets her behind the curtain and grins.

Darrin Stearns: Or we could forget the sack...and you can quit stealing my lines!

Tiffani Stearns: You might have to make me.

The shadows behind the curtain seem to merge together as we cut back to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: Darrin Stearns seems to have really won the heart of Queen Tiffy.

Seth Ericson: How does that big bird get such a great looking woman? UNFAIR!

Dick Morosi: Good manners go a long way.

Seth Ericson: Well I'm out. What's next on the agenda? Death? Destruction? Boobs?

Dick Morosi: It's non-title action! Justin Brooks meets the World Champ Johnny Cannon, next!

NON-TITLE MATCH
JOHNNY CANNON (EXODUS Pro World Champion) vs. JUSTIN BROOKS

You were my conscience, so solid, now you're like water
And we started drowning, not like we'd sink any further
But I let my heart go, it's somewhere down at the bottom
But I'll get a new one and come back for the hope that you've stolen

I'll stop the whole world, I'll stop the whole world
From turning into a monster eating us alive
Don't you ever wonder how we survive?
Well now that you're gone, the world is ours

David Zinkus: Now coming to the ring...hailing from Atlanta, Georgia...standing at 6'4" and 267 pounds, he is Justin Brooks!

I'm only human, I've got a skeleton in me
But I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preaching.
Call me a traitor, I'm just collecting your victims
And they're getting stronger
I hear them calling.

(Calling, Calling)

I'll stop the whole world, I'll stop the whole world
From turning into a monster eating us alive
Don't you ever wonder how we survive?
Well now that you're gone, the world is ours

A large chorus of cheers erupt from the E-Pro faithful as Justin Brooks appears from the curtain and stands there with a smile on his face as he places his hands on his waist. “Monster” by Paramore continues to blast through the PA system as he keeps his eyes on the middle of the squared circle as he slowly makes his way towards the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope and quickly standing to his feet and looks amongst the crowd with a large smile on his face. Justin just leaps to the second turnbuckle and throws his hands in the air before leaping down from the turnbuckle.

Dick Morosi: Can Justin Brooks shock the world and pin our brand new World champion?

Seth Ericson: Pfft. Hell no.

A few moments pass, before the blaring chords of "Supernaut" by Black Sabbath slams into its rhythmic bellow throughout the depths of the RIMAC arena, inciting an instant, deafening, vociferous reaction from the EXODUS faithful. Suddenly, the arena lights black out with the exception of the few stationed around the entrance tunnel, which begin to flash in unison and fill with sparks in reponse to the opening guitar riff. The crowd's ear-splitting roar of approval for their "hero" seems to grow louder, as the silhouette of the ravishing Englishman emerges behind the lights, prompting David Zinkus to tuck his cue cards in his shirt and begin his introduction.

David Zinkus: Making his way to the ring,



Cannon's form is seen from the shadowy depths from the entrance area, just behind the curtain. Eventually, the Brit makes his ascension onto the entrance stage, pushing his way through the curtain cloth at the top of the ramp, sending yet another shockwave of thundering cheers throughout the crowd. All eyes on the arena fixed on him, Johnny saunters across each side of the stage, while Quinton Goodrich plays to the crowd. The former begins to survey the venue, wearing his black boots, red knee pads, and 'Manchester United' inspired camo trunks, wrist tape on both wrists and his "#JohnnyCannonCelebrationTour" T-shirt. He also wears the face of a man at the peak of his physical prime and the apex of his confidence and conviction.

With the International Championship wrapped around his waist (in reverse), Cannon begins sauntering down the entrance ramp, slapping the hands of excited fans that shove their arms out in his direction. Coming down the middle of the ramp, he slows his pace to a stop, posing on location. He playfully points out a finger gun gesture at the crowd, playing to the patrons before removing his two hundred dollar sunglasses and handing them to one of the kids in the front row.

David Zinkus: Accompanied by Quinn Goodrich, he weighs in tonight at two hundred and forty pounds, and hails from London, England. He is the EXODUS International Champion.... he is JOHNNYYYY CANNON!!!!

Cannon quickly runs up the ring steps and quickly leaps over the ropes with relative ease. Using the momentum from his jump, Johnny spins into the center of the ring before stopping on the drop of a dime, peering outside at the nearest ringside camera. Too cool for school, the world renowned actor and former cagefighter slowly unzips his track jacket, and slides out of it with suaveness before handing his entrance gear to the referee, who then hands it to the nearby ring attendant. Afterward, he hands the International Championship over as well.



From there Johnny slowly backs into the ropes, hooking his arms back on them before bouncing several times, beginning his mental preparations and prerequisites as Quinn looks on from ringside. He was psyching himself up, hoping to prove to himself, and to the world, that he was the greatest wrestler on planet earth. Now in the corner, he stands, his head lightly resting against the pad as he awaits the start of the match.

Dick Morosi: And there is your new World champion!

Seth Ericson: Johnny is probably still wasted after all the partying he has probably been doing.

DING! DING! DING!

The two men slowly circle the ring, the audience already giving off the fact that they are ready for this match to really kick off. Cannon and Brooks nod to one another before deciding to lock up, Cannon getting the upper hand almost right away as he puts Brooks in a headlock. Unfortunately for the Brit, Brooks is quick to use his weight advantage and lift Cannon off of his feet before dropping him onto his back. Brooks is quick to his feet, and Cannon gets to a knee a split second afterwards. Both men take a few steps away from one another as they each try to rethink their respective game plans.

Slowly, they circle the ring again, but when they near each other, Cannon goes for another lock up, only for Brooks to launch forward and drive his knee into Cannon’s midsection. Brooks quickly follows it up by grabbing the World champion by the waist and lifting him up before tossing him over his head and onto the mat with a belly to belly suplex. The audience gives this move a mixed reaction, but Brooks doesn’t care as he gets to his feet and grabs Cannon before getting the Brit to his feet. JB then lifts up Cannon into a powerbomb position before motioning to launch him out of the ring and slam him onto the ground. Cannon notices this and begins to punch away at Brooks, forcing the big man to stumble backwards. But before he can escape Brooks’s grip, Brooks slams Cannon down onto the mat with a powerbomb!

Dick Morosi: Brooks taking control early in this match!

Seth Ericson: But if you saw, Cannon was trying to fight back as much as possible, meaning that he ain’t gonna be losing this match that easily.

Justin Brooks is slow to get to his feet as he shakes his head, trying to shake off the multiple closed fists he received to the head. Brooks once again grabs Cannon by the head before slowly getting him up to both feet and lifting him high up. Brooks marches around the ring for a second before looking out at the crowd and slowly dropping down, planting Cannon right on his head with a brainbuster! Another mixed reaction pops out from the San Diego audience as Brooks goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Dick Morosi: Close call there! Brooks has been in control almost this entire match.

Seth Ericson: Perhaps Brooks can pull this off.

JB just shakes his head as he looks down at Johnny while slowly getting to his feet. Brooks looks out at the audience and tells them that he’s about to end this as he takes a few steps away from Cannon and begins calling for the spear, getting a nice cheer from the audience. Johnny slowly stirs on the mat as JB just waits in the corner like a lion ready to feast on its prey. Once Cannon gets to his feet, Brooks charges forward and goes for a spear...but Cannon manages to get his boot up and plant it right into Brooks’s face, stunning the big man as he stumbles backwards.

Cannon then spins around and raises up his leg before catching Brooks on the side of the head with a reverse roundhouse kick! The audience cheers as Brooks falls to the ground, Cannon following him and falling to the mat as well. Both men are breathing heavily as Brooks holds the side of his head in pain. Cannon slowly gets on all fours, huffing and puffing after the attack he had just suffered in this match. Finally Cannon gets to his feet and begins measuring up the big man, looking to end this real fast. Cannon continues to motion for Brooks to get to his feet until the Georgian does so, before he attempts a roundhouse kick to end it all...only for Brooks to duck it at the last second! Johnny quickly turns to see where JB is before getting drilled with a spear by Brooks! Brooks quickly goes for the cover!

Dick Morosi: Roundhouse kick missed!

Seth Ericson: But that spear sure as hell didn’t!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-KICKOUT!

Brooks is stunned as Cannon manages to just pull his shoulder up and break the count before the ref’s hand could slap the mat for three. Brooks shakes his head furiously and begins drilling Cannon with lefts and rights, obviously looking to wear down the Brit. JB slowly gets to his feet before grabbing Johnny by the head and getting him up to his as well. JB irish whips Johnny into the corner, Johnny hitting the corner so hard that he bounces back out, allowing JB to catch him with a boot to the gut before hitting a rapid snap suplex on him. The audience just seems to be leaning towards the World champ as Brooks gets to his feet and points at the corner, the audience still giving him the same reaction. Brooks quickly walks over to the corner and steps out onto the apron before climbing the turnbuckles.

Johnny is slowly getting to his feet just as Justin reaches the top turnbuckle and keeps himself perched on it until he sees Johnny turn around. JB then hops off of the apron and keeps his right arm stretched out, looking to take Cannon’s head off with a flying clothesline...only for Cannon to dodge the clothesline, forcing Brooks to land on to the mat and quickly roll onto his feet. Brooks turns to look at Cannon, who rests up against the corner, looking tired as hell. Brooks quickly charges at the corner and goes for a big splash, but Cannon just manages to duck the maneuver, forcing Brooks’s skull to bounce off of the top turnbuckle. Brooks staggers backwards before slowly turning around and getting met with a busaiku knee to the face by the World champion! The crowd explodes into cheers as Cannon goes for the cover!

Dick Morosi: The Birmingham Screwdriver connects!

Seth Ericson: This could be it!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

David Zinkus: The winner of this match....JOHNNY CAAAAAAAAANNON!

Cannon slowly gets to his feet as the ref walks over and hands him his title, which he proudly raises it up into the air to cheers from the audience.

Dick Morosi: What a win by Johnny Cannon!

Seth Ericson: Brooks gave him a run for his money though.

Dick Morosi: The champ did a great job tonight. While he celebrates, let's head backstage!

WINNER: Johnny Cannon

As the hard hitting action out in the main portion of the RIMAC winds down, the scene shifts to the backstage area which is the normal scene of show day chaos. In the midst of all the chaos stands a solitary figure leaning casually against a production trunk. Upon further inspection, the figure is revealed to be none other than the reigning San Diego Bay champion Savannah Taylor. Savannah is clad in a fitted black military-style jacket that falls to around the mid-thigh region. Her title belt is resting on the trunk behind her and she is show carrying a solid black leather riding crop in her right hand. Her blonde hair hands down in loose waves across her shoulders, adding an eerily beautiful element to a changed woman. She glances up at the camera standing in front of her and grins slightly.

Savannah Taylor: Guten Abend. In just a few moments, yours truly will step into the ring to duke it out with management’s princess Fiona Collins. Before I talk about her, there is an annoyance that is starting to irritate me far more than Princess Fiona ever did.

Savannah straightens up and her grin suddenly disappears from her face as she clears her throat.

Savannah Taylor: Tiffani, I have to hand it to you. You agreeing to a hardcore match with me for MY San Diego Bay championship is a pretty gutsy move. That move showed me that you really do have more guts than brains. I have to ask you something, and I am being serious here, Tiffani. Are you sure a hardcore match is what you want? Are you ready to put your pretty little face and body through hell to get to me and MY title? I honestly don’t think you realize just what is waiting for you at Absent Are The Saints. You are about to face off against someone who doesn’t fear pain. You are about to face off against someone who actually WELCOMES the worst anyone can throw out. I guess you could say that the pain is something of a pleasure to me.

She says as she licks her lip slightly, a grin forming on her face once more.

Savannah Taylor: So I invite you, Tiffani, to bring your worst. I invite you to bring everything you have. Just don’t come crying to me when what you bring isn’t enough to take MY title away from me. Now as for Princess Fiona, well, what else is there to say that hasn’t already been said? You thought I was something back during the Honor Cup? You haven’t seen anything yet. Auf Wiedersehen.

With that, she reaches behind her and takes her San Diego Bay title and drapes it over her shoulder and starts to walk off down the hall as we fade out to commercial.

The camera cuts backstage, where Christum Furor is seen leaning on an equipment box in the corridor. He puts his hand on his burlap mask, giving it a quick wipe, before removing it as Tom Matheny approaches.

Tom Matheny: I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me Furor. We might as well cut to the chase here. Zack Lifer is your former friend and partner. Why did you choose him to join Gods & Monsters in the first place?

The seething madman takes a moment to clear his throat and contemplate his thoughts before answering the million dollar question.

Christum Furor: I chose Nick Kramer because at the time it was the smartest thing to do. Considering the circumstances, it’s important to make note that when dealing with adversity, you acquire the knowledge and tools to make your future much less complicated. Most of you people know it as being selfish. I am proud to say I’m selfish, because I know it was that selfishness that helped make me one of the most well known wrestlers in this company, in this sport, and it was the very reason Nick Kramer was drawn to me. I gave him a home because he needed one. I gave him the power to unlock the power of his subconscious mind. In spite of the blessings I bestowed upon him he chose to spit in my face, and dedicate his life to bringing me misery and harm because he’s been conditioned to do so by those who oppose me.

Furor begins taping his wrists in his usual white hockey tape, preparing to fight the very man he’s talking about in a moment’s time.

Tom Matheny: Indeed things obviously didn’t turn out as you planned with the two of you. Your thoughts?

Furor exhales through his nose, giving a small grin as he continues to tape his hands.

Christum Furor: Nick Kramer… what do I think of Nick Kramer? It seems like I’ll never stop hearing his name. Why? Because he is quite possibly my greatest disciple, yet by the same token he is my greatest failure. Nick Kramer had all the tools and all the talent - I gave him power, but he used that power in the sense of a nuclear bomb. See, he lacks strategy, and understanding of what’s important. He just cannonballs into the pool, to make a splash, without thinking first if there’s water in it. That’s what’s gotten him into trouble. Like a kamikaze pilot he flies into targets, never knowing what the consequences of his actions will be. Tonight he is flying straight into destruction, and I will be there to capitalize on his demise. Nick Kramer is my creation. I gave him life, now I must take it.

Tom Matheny: What happened two weeks ago, what do you have to say about that? Between the two of you, and Rosalyn Darling of KWI, we certainly saw a different side to you. Almost like you were humble.

The madman begins to speak, but cuts himself off, thinks a bit more, then continues.

Christum Furor: Nick Kramer believes he humbled me, that he got some sort of upper hand. He is misguided. Understand Tom, that nothing I do is by accident. I’m in control of all of my faculties, and every single one of my vices - vices I have harnessed into dementia, a madness that I have used to rebuild this corrupt system in the image of my exalted likeness. I told Nick Kramer that there are consequences for heroism. What happened two weeks ago happened because I allowed it to. Nick Kramer is a fragile little teacup, and sometimes I like to push teacups over the edge and watch them scatter into little pieces just to see if they’ll put themselves back together. Since the moment he turned his back on me I’ve been guiding him onto this specific timeline for a reason, to remind him of something. Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is a gift mankind has given itself, and ironically it is that gift that takes away our very humanity. I’m going to show Nick that nobody is truly incorruptible, and that every White Knight can be consumed with darkness because morality is merely an illusion in a hate-filled reality.

A loud tittering howl erupts from the revolutionist, the outburst startling everyone in earshot.

Tom Matheny: Why in God’s name are you so enamored with pain and destruction?

Furor’s face darkens a bit, a more serious tone coming over him.

Christum Furor: Self-destruction is what made me. It’s what made EXODUS. The pain Magnus Gunner endured ultimately ended up destroying him, but it was through his agony and distress, the constant broken fingers, bruised tissue, broken neck and battered psyche that this company has withstood the test of time, for had it not been, this company would have never seen a glimpse of what it is today. This company sacrificed it’s only son so that other’s may live and reap the benefits, so that men like Jonathan Collins, Rufus Frost, and the Grays could turn a profit. The world turned a blind eye to his suffering, and outcast and vilified him for his afflictions. They can't ignore Magnus Gunner anymore, because of every ounce of pain he experienced, I’m sharing every bit of it with this world. That’s why Nick Kramer has in store for him tonight, and what Johnny Cannon will be faced with at Absent Are The Saints.

Matheny is silent now as Furor elaborates.

Christum Furor: I have a plan, Tom, a plan that is unfolding brilliantly. I have Nick Kramer right where I want him. He believes he has everything under control, little does he know he’s merely a combat veteran with a purple heart, one I’ve invited to a game of paintball. On one hand, he’ll find it enjoyable, albeit messy - yet on the other I’m going to drudge up some cold, repressed memories - memories he’s tried to forget of dead daughters and devious things he’s done to people like Brytain Montgomery. We’re going to have a massacre on our hands… and instead of being covered in paint, he’s going to be covered in copious amounts of blood and inner demons. Like the moth to the flame he’s proven to be so predictable. I’ve laid out a piece of cheddar on the opposite side of a mouse trap, and he’s taken the bait, and when that trap springs the Hammer of Dawn will come down and destroy all of his fragile beliefs.

The Michigander’s fingers ascend into the air, as he begins to run his fingertips through his hair.

Christum Furor: I’m taking you to a place you don’t want to go, Nick Kramer. You will see things you won't believe you would see, you will do things you never thought would do, and you will be the victim of things so intangible that only the devious, over-developed neurological powers can conceive them. For this is my world. My playground. My house. I have wiped the dirt off your feet, and welcomed you right in.

Furor drops his hands in front of his face, revealing the words “Fear” and “Pain” to be written on his knuckles. The madman lifts his head, his cold blue eyes narrowed, seething with a calculated rage as his hands are laid out in front of him. After taking a deep breath, the sadistic Michigander peers down at his palms.

Christum Furor: Throughout my life I’ve had a number of things happen to me. I’ve seen friendships and relationships crumble and deteriorate. I’ve been in constant physical and mental pain, so much to the point that I used to think there was something wrong with me, like God had spited me for some odd reason. I thought I was a magnet for suffering, because everyone who ever came into contact with me, a little part of them died shortly after. I saw myself as a monster, so socially inept and out of place that I was alienated by the rest of society. I used to be afraid to look at these hands due to the horrible things that they’ve done. The blood, the violence, the pain, all of it can be relayed through these hands, Nick.

Furor stares into the camera now.

Christum Furor: These hands are the windows to my soul, and with them I will share with you my pain, Nick Kramer. You will understand my agony. And with that knowledge you will see that heroes are made to fall, turning you into the one thing you’ve fought so desperately not to become… the villain they disdain in every way.

We cut back to Dick & Seth.

Dick Morosi: Christum Furor is a dangerous man.

Seth Ericson: You really think nobody's noticed yet? The worst part is what Cleon Gray did. Cleon is forcing Zack Lifer to face him with his hands tied behind his back. This is sadistic, and at some point, Jonathan Collins or Nicholas Gray need to stand up for Zack. I don't like Zack by any means, but not even he deserves this.

Dick Morosi: That's the nicest thing you've ever said, Seth. Wanna add more to it?

Seth Ericson: ....dicks.

Dick Morosi: Walked right into that one. Let's go to the ring for what's looking to be a public execution.

HANDS TIED BEHIND THE BACK MATCH
CHRISTUM FUROR vs. ZACK LIFER

A brief flash of silence passes through the arena suddenly as the stage is beamed on by gold and white lights, the bulbs dimming slightly. Heroic hues floated over the entryway, the ramp and of course the audience, audible cheers as they hear the words of "Alive in the Lights" by Memphis May Fire boom through the speakers signifying one man and one man only.

From the beginning, I knew I was different.
I embraced it, but you didn't.
Your normal life, 9-5, it's just not for me.
I need to feel alive![/color]

As the lights of gold and white beam down against the crowd, searching up the stairs and to the cheap seats, they notice a familiar silhouette. A pop from the fans resurfacing, signs of various positive remarks stretching across the ocean of 'Lifer Addicts' as well as a few anomaly signs that don't fit in with the others. Adorn in a tan colored open sweatshirt, the zipper at the bottom as he made his way down the stairs. A few people reach for a high five however, given the match of the night, he refused without a gesture, simply silently fixated on the ring ahead.

David Zinkus: And their opponent, from Newark New Jersey and weighing in at 202 pounds... He is The New Iron Saint... ZACK LIFER!!!

Don't you see the minds that have changed?
Do you see the lives that have been saved?
Don't you care to see the difference I've made?
Listen closely, the highways call my name.
Don't you see this is my everything?[/b]

Lifer's slow, methodical walking gives way to sprinting, his legs moving him towards the ring down the nearly endless row of stairs before he hops the leather barricade, a running jump that could only be considered impressive, a hint of confidence in the way he moved at a slowed down pace once more towards the steel steps. His eyes dart to the entrance way as he trudges up the few stairs, not looking away as he watches the curtain for just a couple seconds with an intense look in his eye as if in deep thought.

As he gets to the top of the steps, his eyes dart across the arena, stunned by the crowd reaction. The audience gets louder as he climbs the turnbuckle, lifting his right arm in triumph as a single golden colored firework shot diagonally on the stage regardless, the location of its starting point mirroring the top turnbuckle he resided on - Zack now already pacing the ring - as it screeched loudly. cutting across the arena air, another loud pop from the crowd.

Don't you care to see the difference I've made?

Dick Morosi: It’s no surprise Lifer is taking the no nonsense approach here. We’ve seen what a determined Lifer can do, we’ve seen how drastically he’s changed over the coming weeks first hand.

Seth Ericson: Shut up, Dick. All the determination in the world doesn’t account for anything with your hands tied behind your back. And this is against Christum Furor we’re talking about, not some rookie. We’re in for a bloodbath!

Dick Morosi: I’m not one to question the matches made in this company, but this? Well, at the risk of getting fired, I’ll only say one thing - this certainly isn’t fair.

Seth Ericson: No duh, Sherlock. But it’s happening regardless of anyone’s opinion, whether they like it or not.

The camera zoomed out from the scene, Lifer hopped back to the apron and then hopping over the top rope effortlessly, his arms stretched out wide for just a moment as if to mock Gods & Monsters immediately after, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.with a literal bang, the firework shooting by swiftly in the background. His chocolate brown eyes searched the excited crowd, a smirk rising to his face once more. He looked confident, more confident than ever before heading to his corner, the sounds fading mid-lyric as he waits for the bell to finally ring.

David Zinkus: And his opponent, he weighs in tonight a two hundred and forty pounds and fights out of Detroit, Michigan. He is the EXODUS World Champion and the leader of GODS & MONSTERS... CHRISTUM! FUROR!

The crowd turns to the entrance way, ready for the second participant in the match - welcoming him with boos and jeers. The lights suddenly dim in the arena; the venue fills with a dark, and ominous ambiance. Those in their seats stand in anticipation, and those already standing flourish their disdain, and soon the arena swells with noise. Now the lights cast only vague silhouettes and shadows - the only source of illumination are the EXIT signs located throughout the setting. Knowing full-well of what's to come, the first few rows of attendance flock to the guardrails near the aisle, everyone turning their heads to the entrance. Only then does the overhead tron come aglow with life, accompanied by the slow, foreboding feedback and guitar of In Flames' single, "The Quiet Place". As the video fades in, the infamous superstar is captured in a mere pose lacking of color - only in harsh white and black values. It builds slowly with a somewhat grim feeling to it, capturing the villain's in-ring composure before the bout itself. Then, as the verse comes in, a spotlight shines on the velvet curtain that veils the entrance way -it soon begins to sway, and is then parted by the leader of Gods & Monsters who comes to stand in full view of the masses. An uproar from the patrons sounds, nauseated and enraged to see the Michigander once more as he outstretches his arms out by his side and tilts his head back slightly, taking in a deep breath to fully immerse himself in the detestation of the crowd.



Furor is clothed in a black sleeveless t-shirt with the G&M logo on the front, black elbow pads, taped fists, black and red singlet and boots. His hair is wet from a dousing from a water bottle, his chin and jawline stubbed and unshaven. His complexion is rather pale, bitter, or sickly. Rather than his eyes blank and emotionless, they carry a bit of angst, appearing of slight excitement and of mental instability. His lower lip is tightened, slightly wincing, yet his brow contradicts and furrows.

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

He reaches the end of the stage, now visible that he carries a steel chair in hand - one of the thumbtack variety. With his arm busy, not to mention his mind racing through depression, violence and a ton of self-interrogation, he simply pauses at the top of the ramp. His head raises an inch, glancing slowly to the left and right, his face bearing the emotionless plague now. Then, he readjusts his hand, continuing down the ramp as the top of the chair slides against the cold steel.



He continues his swaggered ‘march of death’, the chair swifting slightly from his lifeless arm hanging off of it’s shoulder. The crowd presents a bumblebee-like jeer, while many remain quiet, knowing that what’s coming on the horizon can’t not bold well for their hero. Either way, they look on in slight awe and apprehension, questioning what exactly the madman has in store for his former disciple.

Dick Morosi: There’s a very evil and ominous look in that man’s eyes, Seth. I don’t like it. I don’t like any of this one bit.

Seth Ericson: Cleon Gray apparently has it out for Zack Lifer, and he’s pretty much served the kid up on a silver platter to Christum Furor.

Furor reaches ringside and carelessly tosses the chair into the ring. He slithers inside afterward, keeping on the plaid cloth for whatever reason. Finally, he gets to his feet, walking over to the camera side ring ropes. He poses in the crucifix whilst the lights return to their normal fixture. As “The Quiet Place” ends, playing the final loop, Furor turns to face towards his adversary. Before him lays a potentially defenseless Zack Lifer, and a plethora of bad intentions. Referee Brian Lowery motions to Zack, prompting the New Iron Saint to step forward, the senior official holding a rope which he reluctantly begins tying around Lifer’s arms.

Dick Morosi: This is unsettling, to say the least. Zack Lifer is completely defenseless here, Seth. Hands tied behind his back, and for what? Speaking his mind?

Seth Ericson: This is all apart of the vision Cleon Gray had when he sentenced him to a year long timeout, Dick. This is certainly going to be hard to watch and… JESUS LOOK OUT ZACK!

Lifer turns around almost instinctively as a clubbing shot across the skull sends him to the canvas. Decided not even to wait for the bell to start the official match, Furor stands over his victim to a chorus of boos hummed from the crowd. Christum brushes a hand through his hair, away from his face, to reveal a hungry, emotionally insane near-sociopath. Not cold, not calculative, but purely insane. Lifer’s head and torso begin to rise from the mat, rolling over onto one side and then his back. Furor stalks around the back of the New Iron Saint, making sure that his former friend and disciple is unable to get in any eye contact with him. Slowly, as Lifer gets up, Furor takes a step back to size him up, then charges in with a boot just as the beloved hero gets up to a knee using just his will alone.

Laying on the mat once more, Lifer’s eyes perk in Christum’s eyes desperately, almost as if to say a silent ‘is that all you got?’ A slight smirk spread across his face, trying to psychologically make Furor believe that he was truly painless if only to tick the false god off with just a mere gesture, his cunning showing through.

Dick Morosi: Is he… smiling?

Furor takes a glance at his steel equalizer, his favorite instrument of destruction resting idly in the corner. He immediately saunters into the corner, grasping it by the handle and lifting it into the air upon making his way back into the vicinity and area that Lifer occupies. The Michigander’s eyes, a mix of interest, and apathy, pan over from the chair to the face of the New Iron Saint. His brow furrowed, teeth bared, Lifer kneels in eagerness, not flinching in wake of what’s about to happen - almost daring Christum to take a swing. Nevertheless, Furor’s face manifests into a wicked smile, as he salivates at the very prospect of hitting one out of the park - the chair remaining eye-level in the tight grip of the cut-throat revolutionist.

Seth Ericson: I don’t know what Lifer’s thinking, I’d be trying to get outta dodge if I were him. It’s almost masochistic. He’s begging to be hit? I don’t get it.

Dick Morosi: And if Furor obliges, he may no longer have a head on his shoulders.

Lifer looks Furor right in his eyes as the tension builds up, Christum taking another glance and finally raising the chair over his shoulder. Zack winces, turning his face in the opposite direction of the weapon, hissing through his teeth.

*SMACK*

Sickeningly, brutally, and heartlessly, Furor brings down the chair over Lifer’s head, Zack dropping to his knees evermore from the pain. His body crashes in a kneel, Christum lowering the chair from his vice grip to close in on the Iron Saint. Stretching out an arm, he grabs him by the back of the head, tilting up his face, Lifer glaring out from behind a rapidly growing crimson mask, his lower lip quivering with anger and perhaps a damnation of curses expelling on his assailant. Over Lifer’s voice, Furor speaks, clearly and unaided.

Christum Furor: How does it feel to be the hero, Nick?

With that Furor takes a few quick steps back and charges, lifting his leg and tucking the chair under his boot and colliding with Lifer’s head for a second time in a strange kick-the-chair alteration, Zack’s body again knocked to the canvas once more, stunned, dazed, perhaps unconscious. With Lifer sprawling on the canvas, Furor climbs out of the ring and makes a beeline for the timekeeper, walking the aisle amidst booing fans who each verbally insult the man as he approaches, even going so far as to reach their hands out to attempt to possibly pin him to the barricade. Obviously, they were unsuccessful. Upon grabbing a microphone however, Christum rolls back into the ring.

Christum Furor: Do you feel it, Nick? Do you feel the pain, my pain? I didn’t want it to come to this, honestly, I envisioned we’d be standing together as Gods of the New Age. You didn’t want that future. Instead, you choose to be a sycophant, dedicating your life to sheep who only accept you when it’s convenient. You want to be their hero, the one they look up to in times of weakness and sorrow. You want to be a symbol, and a beacon of hope. As a GOD I pity you.

The crowd begins to chant the words “you’re not a God” methodically, a poetic stride to their little song as they rained down hate on the man who spoke, the camera panning to several fans themselves to some faces that were just plain mad to others who were disgusted.

Christum Furor: Listen to them, Nick? I stand before you in pain… my head hurts as it pulsates with a menagerie of thoughts and feelings, yet they cannot feel my sympathy. Why is that, Nick? It’s because they enjoy it, even if they don’t want to admit it. Every week we stand in this ring and we fight until the last drop is spilled. We bleed week in… week out, and suffer physical and emotional scars and for what, for them? They pay over and over again to simply stand in attendance for that moment that peeks their excitement… to see the blood drip down our bodies… to see us destroy ourselves… smiling, laughing and applauding as we cut our lives short for the sake of selling tickets.

Furor stares down at Zack who still writhes in pain, finding it difficult to pick himself up.

Christum Furor: The disgust is sickening… watching these maggots give their hard earned money just to watch us dig our own graves… nothing unlike the coliseum of Rome. They crave violence, they find joy in it… the pain and suffering excites them! And you call me, the bad guy? It’s almost deja vu for me, Nick. They drove my own brother against me because he wanted to be their entertainer, and here we are again, me standing over you, another puppet in their play. They sit there like killers and dare to fuel the fire as our brains become scrambled. Why, Nick, why do you bleed and kill yourself slowly for them? For their amusement! So, I ask you… when will it be enough? When will enough blood be enough to satiate these bloodthirsty psychopaths? Their wolves… vultures… sadists… watching happily, licking their lips as the crimson escapes from you… even now… as I tear your flesh from bone.

Furor stares out at the crowd now, his eyes burning with an inhospitable rage as Lifer begins to stir. The crowd never calms, their eyes watching intently and yet listening to every word uttered underneath the blarings of the mass of humanity all voicing their opinions - some with signs and some with their vocal chords.

Christum Furor: These are the people you want to protect? They’re no better than Jonathan Collins, than Nicholas and Cleon Gray, and every other deviant in this hate-filled business. We’re expendable to them, Nick. These people care for you just as much as they care for me. You’re only good to them when you’re allowing them to validate their pathetic lives through your pain… your suffering… your blood. And when it’s over and you have nothing left to give, they forget you. All of your contributions become null and void, and everything you’ve done inside and outside of this ring becomes inconsequential. No. Nick Kramer will become a relic of the past, an afterthought, despite everything he gave. That’s your fate. That’s the fate of EVERY man in this company, and this business. We’re merely tools used to make people rich, to make people feel like they matter. They scream, hungry for blood and you oblige. You give them what they want. YOU’VE PAID THE PIPER!

Furor sneers down at Lifer, sadistically, yet there’s a clear look of empathy hidden in those eyes of his. Hastily, he begins lifting Zack up to his knees; the New Iron Saint is unsteady in this position, his body trembling slightly due to the loss of breath - yet he composes himself enough to blow hair from the front of his bloodied face to offer his rebuttal, thus changing the disposition of the San Diego crowd in the process.

Zack Lifer: Those fans… They pay for everything we have!

There’s a look of disbelief in the eyes of the Michigander as Lifer responds, his words somewhat slurred as his brainpan continues to assimilate the damage it’s already sustained.

Zack Lifer: Those fans are why we’re here, why this place exists! You deny that? You… You disagree with that assumption? You… have the choice to be something else, something less dangerous, something REAL! You have the choice to be whatever you put your mind to. You have the choice to do whatever you see fit and you blame them for YOU volunteering to join a profession you ultimately strove to join on your own!?

A good portion of the audience begins to cheer, Furor shaking his head in dismay as his disciple offers more of his two cents.

Zack Lifer: I’m covered in blood and even I know they’re not laughing, Gunner. They’re not applauding this. They’re not sadistic like you make them out to be. They’re watching in awe as we put on a show, do things the average man can’t do. That’s what we’re here for. After we’re gone from this scene, after we leave the wrestling world by force by the heavy hand age deals us all, they WILL forget me! They WILL forget everything I’ve done as the years wind down pasted my death but you know what else? Your message? Your idiotic plea for attention? It’s just as worthless! We joined this business to entertain these people! So what if we get a few bruises every now and then?! So what if we get a few irrerasable scars?!

Lifer eludes to the scar on his neck, the barbed wire massacre of the past still prominently etched into his skin, into his DNA. It was a part of him now, a part of who he was.

Christum Furor: BECAUSE SOME SCARS NEVER HEAL!

The madman snaps now, landing a crushing blow with his forearm right into the Jerseyan’s forehead - then again, and again, Lifer now dropping back down to the canvas. Christum kneels down beside him now, frantically running a hand through his hair as Zack tries to regroup.

Christum Furor: Some scars stick with you for the rest of your life… some scars cause you to forget who you are, distorting your reality, making it impossible for you to see what’s real and what’s not, and as the facade becomes bigger, more intricate, the real world becomes that much more invisible. When you lose that identity, you do things that go against everything you once believed in… WHEN YOU LOSE YOURSELF… THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU GET LOST IN THE SHUFFLE… sometimes they get hurt… or WORSE… and THAT PAIN REMINDS YOU OF WHO YOU ARE… but it’s much too late then… NO! BY THE TIME YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE… YOU’VE GONE SO FAR DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE THAT YOU FEEL OUT OF PLACE IN THE REAL WORLD!

Lifer nudges up back to a knee, only to sent back down from a swift kick to the temple, a loud negative pop from the crowd once again.

Christum Furor: And once THAT happens, you become insane, and THAT madness gets you blacklisted, gets you vilified and hated to the point that the very people you were entertaining hope for your demise, to the point that the people in the back who smile in your face secretly plot your downfall… TO THE POINT THAT THE FEW FRIENDS YOU HAD STAB YOU IN THE BACK! THAT wound will NEVER heal Lifer… no, that’s a souvenir I will keep for the rest of my life… the little token of appreciation you gave me for trying to liberate you from the illusions, for trusting you, and accepting you for who you are.

Furor seethes in frustration now, trying to regather his bearings and composure, whilst Lifer struggles yet again to get up.

Christum Furor: You question why I’m a wrestler, why I choose to come out here and give my blood for their amusement… it’s because you don’t understand the game. You still believe that these fans push you, that they support you, that you’re some hero to them, someone they can put their hopes and dreams in… you’re a fool. They don’t fuel you… they control you. You’re a marionette. I refuse to let anyone pull my strings. I refuse to be told how to think. Instead, I go against the grain and established order, upsetting it with a controlled chaos that pisses on all of their unwritten rules and regulations. I am not bound or indebted to them. They do not OWN me. I own THEM. I take a microphone, I utter one syllable and their entire lives are made meaningless. A year ago I turned their white dove black. I brought the Seraph down, made her bathe in the darkness, and showed them that she was no hero… just like what I’m doing to you. THAT’s power. THAT’S GODLIKE POWER.

Lifer, albeit unsteady, is back on his feet now, although he looks like a strong wind could take him back down, or at worse, another chair shot could render him braindead.

Zack Lifer: Godlike power?

He echoed the words, breathing heavily in the face of his tormentor, a slight chuckle leaving him even through the red blood that covered his features.

Seth Ericson: How is he still on his feet?!

Dick Morosi: Say what you will about his character, but nobody can ever question this guy’s heart! He’s willing to stand up for what he believes in and this crowd can’t keep their eyes off the scene that’s unfolding in front of us!

Seth Ericson: His hands are still tied. This can’t possibly end well. He needs to stay down, take the pin. Playing the hero may just get him killed out there.

With that, his hands still tied behind his back with rope, his eyes behind the mask as inviting as ever, lining up another insult to the man who caused him all this pain, ignoring the consequences, something that caught the attention of absolutely everybody who saw the event backstage, the blood itself dripping down his chest slowly and pooling softly on the mat below.

Zack Lifer: Is that why Lasie beat you?

Furor’s face curls into a bitter scowl now in response, Lifer almost poking fun at the madman’s defeat months ago.

Christum Furor: And where is he now? Gone. The Morning Star, vanquished, something YOU couldn’t do.

Lifer looked him dead in the eye, his expression as serious as he could possibly make it, a dangerous look in his eye that told Christum he wasn’t kidding around any longer.

Zack Lifer: I didn’t attack Lasie before his match like a coward! I did everything in my power to take him down and you know what? I LAUGHED in the face at his Four Card Trick! I kicked out of the Unforgettable Fire! You can’t say that, can you? You can’t say you stood tall after everything he threw at you until he resorted to letting out the monster inside. You just can’t take the fact that your ‘Godlike power’ is insignificant if a mere mortal can do it better than you ever could.

The crowd pops again, previously near silent as they listened to his every word. The facts he stated were the truth, regardless if Christum would acknowledge it or not. Furor takes a deep breath, the expression on his face undergoing a metamorphosis now. The deranged look is now complemented by a maniacal smile.

Christum Furor: What I did to Andreas, that wasn’t cowardice. That was power, a power that I unlocked when I freed myself from the chains of morality, a power you don’t possess due to all those ethics and codes that you adhere to - rules that blur when you see fit, yet rules that you can’t break due to some misguided notion of right and wrong. And that’s a power that you will bow down to. You WILL kneel before me, Nick Kramer. Bow down to a GOD… to the NEW AGE… for their entertainment. ENTERTAIN THEM NICK! DO IT FOR ISABELLA! BOW DOWN TO ME BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T PROTECT HER… LIKE YOU CAN’T PROTECT YOURSELF. BOW DOWN BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT!

A tense moment passes, the crowd holding on by a thread as they desperately look on, hoping that their hero does not give in to the madman’s demands. Suddenly, Jay-Z’s voice can be heard, heralding the Death of Auto-Tune;

Only rapper to re-write history without a pen
No ID on the track let the story begin, begin...

Begin

Dick Morosi: NO WAY!

Seth Ericson: The Risen Star… Jimmy Riley himself! I don’t know what to make of this, Dick.

Indeed, Riley swipes away the curtains, stepping out onto the stage of the RIMAC arena for the first time since he announced his premature retirement. Cheers are mixed with buzzing of whispers from those in attendance. Riley walks down the ramp, holding a microphone in hand, a look of confusion and bewilderment on the face of Christum Furor as he doesn’t appreciate being interrupted. Sliding into the ring, Jimmy stands in-front of Furor, a serious look in his eyes, yet one of both caution and concern.

Jimmy Riley: Furor, if there’s one man that knows what you’re going through, it’s me. We’ve had our battles in the past, even going as far back as the UWL. We’ve been in the same place, Furor. Wondering if it’s it all worth it, the constant question about whether or not everything we do when we step into that ring was ever worth it.

Furor shoots Riley a scowl, gripping the steel chair in his hand with a cold malice, looking like he might swing wildly at any moment.

Jimmy Riley: Hell, I had to retire because of things I did in this ring, because I didn’t want to end up in a wheelchair or worse. But did I enjoy the ride? Hell yeah. Did I do it for these people? Hell yeah. This business has not been kind to us physically or emotionally, but it’s how we deal with all of it that defines who we are. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. There’s always a choice.

Furor’s eyes begin to squint, and it appears that some of Riley’s words are beginning to sink in.

Jimmy Riley: We have a choice, Furor. We can choose to let these demons take us, or we can deal with them and do what’s right. And you can do that, right here, and right now. You can walk away from this moment. You can drop that chair, and you, Lifer and I can all walk out of here together. You don’t have to deal with the pain on your own anymore. I know the wisecracking guy who dressed and talked like it was still the 70’s in there somewhere. That’s the real you. NOT this guy. This guy who wants to hurt people.

Christum looks from side to side now, appearing to be having a crisis of identity.

Jimmy Riley: Just give me the chair, Magnus. Let it go. Let the hate go.

A look of remorse falls over Furor’s face as Riley’s hands protrude to take a hold of the top of the chair. The tension in the air becomes tenfold as the audience isn’t sure what will happen next, each on the edge of their seat. Part of him refuses to let go, yet another part seems to allow the madman to give in to Riley, the voice of reason trying to talk him off that perilous ledge in the recesses of his mind. Jimmy is offering him a hand, salvation from the psychological turmoil, and the look in his eyes shows how genuine he is. Shockingly enough, Christum releases the chair, looking at his hands in fear as he surveys the crowd. They’re speechless. Riley nods, focusing on Lifer now who is in desperate need of medical attention whilst Furor slowly makes his way to the ropes.

Dick Morosi: I- I- I can’t believe it, Seth! Riley talked some sense into him. I’m shocked! I’m more than shocked!

Seth Ericson: The word you’re looking for is dumbfounded. If I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t believe it. I still don’t, but-- NO!

But just on the drop of a dime, Furor turns around and ambushes Riley, taking him down from behind before laying into him with a series of stomps, much to a helpless Lifer’s chagrin. Christum kneels down to grab the chair, his face void of any empathy, filled completely with a cold malice as he begs Riley to get to his feet. Jimmy does, prompting Furor to lay into him with the chair, driving it straight into his abdomen, the Risen Star’s frame bending over the chair and Furor’s arm. His mouth wide open, stunned, as if he had been shot, Riley leaves himself open to a swift chairshot to his spine, sending him to the canvas in obvious pain.

Dick Morosi: NO… NO… this man has lost it! Riley is no longer a competitor. He’s an ambassador, Seth. What does this prove?! What does he gain from this, a heinous assault on Jimmy Riley?!

Seth Ericson: It’s no secret. They’ve never been friends. Furor tried to end his career once before, and you better believe he knows about Riley’s bad back. He’s trying to murder the man. They’ve got to send somebody out there to stop him.

Christum begins hyperventilating almost as he looks down at Riley, his eyes widening with malevolence as he begins to hoist the chair overhead - looking like nothing will stop him from furthering his assault until Lifer yells out at him, halting his momentum.

Zack Lifer: THAT’S ENOUGH!

The Michigander swiftly turns to face Lifer, the chair hanging over his shoulder as New Iron Saint tries to plead with him.

Zack Lifer: Jimmy has nothing to do with this. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me! You hear me, Furor! Hit me! HIT ME! You leave him alone, let him walk out of this ring like nothing happened, and focus all that anger on me, not him! DO YOUR WORST!

The entire arena goes silent, helpless to watch and nothing more, awestruck. Like the true hero, Lifer is willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his new friend and supporter. Furor mulls over his decision, then suddenly charges forward, swinging the chair vociferously. The steel instrument slices through the air to careen across the side and top of Lifer’s crown with a violent ruckus. Zack’s body goes motionless from the concussive blow, yet his inert frame does not influence Furor to stop his assault. Christum screams bloodcurdlingly, as he brings the chair down across Lifer’s inanimate carcass.

*CRACK*CRACK*CRACK*CRACK*CRACKCRACKCRACK*

Finally, Furor tosses the chair to the side, stumbling into the ropes upon making the final hit. All he hears is the apprehensive silence of the crowd and the moans of his former friend and ex-partner as he looks over, straight into Lifer’s eyes, a shocked, or stunned, or inhuman expression plastered across his face. Christum’s eyes dart ahead of him, as ring attendants and referees come chasing down the entrance ramp. Christum is immediately separated from his victims before being forced to do a 180 and exit the ring. Still, by now the damage has already been done, and whatever measure of satisfaction gained as the leader of G&M makes his way up the ramp.

EMTs in white collared shirts with a small red cross logo prominent against the background. They encircle Zack Lifer, concern on their faces as they watch the broken body of his continue to bleed, continue to leave a small pool of blood behind his head and into his hair from the cut on his forehead..

Dick Morosi: He… Sacrificed himself to protect Jimmy Riley, an EXODUS legend. He did it for all these people, every single one. I… don’t know what to say, Seth. It’s unbelievable. This whole ‘match’ has been unbelievable…

Seth Ericson: In a way, it’s ironic. The next show is a pay-per-view. Absent Are The Saints. And… I don’t think The New Iron Saint is going to be ready to compete on that night. Not after that.

Dick Morosi: He made the sacrifice. He knew exactly what he was doing. I don’t think that matters too much to him. All that matters is that he stood up for what he believes in and nobody can take that away from him. We sincerely wish a speedy recovery for you, Lifer. Our prayers are with you.

With that, Zack had already been carried onto a stretcher, men and women of all kinds carrying him up the ramp slowly, the crowd looking on in terror as they expected the worst. The arena remained dead silent, their footsteps making their way up the ramp at a slow pace. That’s when the unbelievable happened, the crowd gasping as they witnessed what was happening.

Dick Morosi: He’s conscious!

His eyes opened underneath the mask, darting around to see the men and women carrying him to the back. He peaked his head up, still in a daze, He witnessed something, a dead on stare into nothingness for a brief while, almost as if he were listening to someone, before Lifer started to fight on to get away from that stretcher and find Christum Furor once and for all. He tried to shove their hands away, tried to push their faces in the opposite direction to try to get some room, trying his best to find some space. They held him down, many individuals pressing into his arms with open palms in hopes of keeping him still, whispering things about how he needed to stay where he was and just relax.He shouted something, shouted as loud as he could to those who oppressed him, freeing himself from their grip with strength alone. He slipped away from their circle, stumbling to his feet uneasily with a pop from the crowd, Zack lazily standing at the center of the ramp while the medics and the workers as well as anyone who witnessed the event stared on, their jaws dropping as they witnessed his heart in all its glory.

Zack Lifer: I’M! STILL! HERE!

He barked the words as loud as he could, shouting the words so even the people in the cheap seats could hear him clearly, watching the scene unfold. That is, until he fell to his knees, trying his best to walk up the ramp on his own that only left him unconscious once more, his face turned to the side as he watched over the crowd, a silent smile on his face before shutting his eyes once more, the medics and the workers bringing him back into the stretcher, strapping him in this time so he had no hope of trying the same thing a second time. On this note, we cut to commercial

WINNER: No Contest

We come back with a graphic to announce something huge...our next Japan tour starts June 9th, culminating in our next iPPV after Absent Are the Saints, on July 21st, 2014...ASCENDENCY! KBS Hall, Hakata Star Lanes, Kobe Sambo Hall, all leading to Korakuen Hall! Let's go to Dick & Seth!

Dick Morosi: You heard it here first, we're going back to Japan for an eight week tour that's going to take us to new places and culminate in our second home, Korakuen Hall in Japan! EXODUS Pro will present Ascendency live on iPPV!

Seth Ericson: Can you believe it? We're huge in Japan, guys! They're asking us to come back and show off again!

Dick Morosi: The last time we were in Japan, our International Champion Lexy Chapel was in our dark match. Now all this time later, she may return as a main event star! First, she has to not only defend her International Title against Jonathan Collins at Absent Are the Saints, but she has to survive this triple threat against the maniacal Ambrosia and the debuting Devilkiller...next!

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
LEXY CHAPEL (EXODUS Pro International Champion) vs. AMBROSIA vs. DEVILKILLER

As the spotlights flash across the stage and the video screens come to life, “Cynics and Critics” by Icon For Hire hits the PA system.



As the music continues blaring, Lexy Chapel walks out on to the stage carrying with her a camera-phone and with the EXODUS Pro International title around her waist. She walks to the left of the stage, filming the fans cheering, and then to the right of the stage, filming more fans cheering wildly before turning the camera around on herself and can be seen mouthing the word 'wow' in to the camera. After listening to the crowd reaction a moment longer she spins around and poses on the stage.



As the music continues to play she begins to make her way down to the ring, filming the fans as she walks past them and posing with a few of them, holding the camera out in front of herself as she leans back in to a group of the fans. As the chorus of the song begins she slides in to the ring and climbs up on to the turnbuckles, filming the fans again with her phone.

“Oh this is all we know
Oh tragic and miserable
We’re not cynics; we just don’t believe a word you say
We’re not critics, we just hate it all anyway
Oh this is all we’ve got
Oh we do what we’ve been taught
We’re not cynics; we just don’t believe a word you say
We’re not critics, we just hate it all anyway”

She leaps down from the turnbuckles and walks to the middle of the ring before spinning around and turning the phone back on herself again, kissing the lens of the camera and then putting it in to her pocket. She removes her ring jacket and slips it in to her former before jumping back on to the turnbuckles again and posing, removing the International title from around her waist and raising it over her head, then flipping off backwards and landing on her feet. She paces about in the ring for a moment before walking over to take a microphone and looking up at the stage. The roar of the crowd stops her from saying whatever she’d intended on saying and she stands there for a moment while the fans cheer and chant her name.

Lexy Chapel: Thank you guys; you really don’t know what that means to me.

The fans continue cheering and chanting as she stands there smiling. After a few seconds she puts a finger to her mouth, telling them to be quiet so she can speak.

Lexy Chapel: Honestly, I could stand out here listening to you guys all night long if it was an option, but unfortunately it’s not. Right now I asked for a microphone because I have something I need to address, or that should probably be someone. So, um... Jon? I know you’re back there. I know people have called you out in the past, people are always looking to steal some of your time but right now I wanted to do this in front of the world so nobody could accuse me of sneaking around the back trying to talk to you. So, if you’ve got a few moments, I’d appreciate being able to talk to you.

The crowd cheers and Lexy stands in the middle of the ring waiting. After a few moments she raises the microphone back up again.

Lexy Chapel: Jon, please? I tried calling you earlier this week but you wouldn’t answer your phone. What you did for me last week was by a long way the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, but the match you made for the pay per view is... please, I just need to talk to you about it.



As soon as she finishes talking, the sounds of "Last Man Standing" by People In Planes begins, and the crowd starts to stir, turning into a full out eruption as there stands the Director of EXODUS Pro! Coming out, already in his gear and an EXODUS Pro shirt, he steps into the ring and looks at Lexy for a moment, before calling for a microphone. Waving for them to cut off his music, he nods as he looks at her, leaning back into one of the corners of the ring.

Jonathan Collins: I'm here, Lexy. I've got a huge title match coming up in a little bit, but I'm here. Talk to me.

Lexy Chapel: I’ve been trying to talk to you all week. You know what this is about Jon, it’s about the match you’ve booked in two weeks. I... I can’t do it! I can’t fight you!

The fans boo and Lexy looks out at them and shakes her head slowly before turning back to Jon.

Lexy Chapel: I’m sorry guys, I really am, but... look, I’m not trying to duck out of a challenge. You pick anyone from that locker room and I’ll fight them, you know that! You put me in a triple threat match, fatal fourway match, and I’ll go in to that ring and put my heart and my soul in to every move and every second of it. But I can’t fight YOU Jon! You’re my... I mean, growing up I IDOLISED you. I wanted to be just like you. I had your t-shirts, I had a cup with your face on it, I had your posters on my wall, I even had the Jon Collins lunchbox for my school lunches! You’re my hero. I CAN’T fight you. I wouldn’t even know how...

Looking at her, Jonathan pushes off from the corner and approaches her, looking down at her, but the look on his face hasn't changed, clearly unmoved.

Jonathan Collins: Let me ask you a question, Lexy.

Without a single bit of hesitation, he taps the International Title.

Jonathan Collins: Do you want to be the best?

Lexy Chapel: What kind of question is that? You know I do! I told you that when you first agreed to help train me...

Jonathan Collins: Do you want to know what it's like to face the best competition in the business today, Lexy?

Lexy takes a step back, shaking her head slowly.

Lexy Chapel: That’s not what this is about Jon. I want to face the best, you know I do. I’ll fight anyone, anywhere. But I can’t fight YOU! I’m not meant to fight you, I’m meant to sit out there in the crowd and cheer for you. That’s what I’ve always done, and it’s what these people have always done. Tonight I’m going to be one of them again, cheering you on with every fibre of my being, and I can’t go from that to trying to fight you in two weeks, I just can’t.

Jonathan steps back closer, looking angry at her for the first time in the time they have known one another.

Jonathan Collins: I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT! I spent the best years of my life making the International Title in NEW mean something! When I opened up EXODUS Pro, I put in the importance of what that belt should mean to the stars of EXODUS Pro! I bled for that title in New Era Wrestling, Lexy! I ALMOST DIED FOR THAT TITLE! And if you can't face me because you respect me too much...then you aren't much of a champion. Lexy, I'm putting you in the ring with me because I believe in you. I'm putting you in a match against me on iPPV, because YOU are the champion and if you're going to be one, you're going to fight the best competition from all over!

Collins rips the belt from her and looks like he could easily strike her...but instead lays it out in front of her, almost as if drawing a line between them.

Jonathan Collins: It's yours...take it. But if you don't get in the right headspace in two weeks, you're going to fall into the same curse every other International champion in EXODUS has. Nobody in this company has done with this title what I've done. Nobody can hold it. So I'm challenging you to do the things Johnny Cannon, Steve Lenton, and Jerry Matthews couldn't do. Suck it up, find your strength, AND DEFEND. THAT. TITLE.

With that, Collins drops the mic and walks off, leaving Chapel stunned and confused.

The screen cuts into static and then a cacophony of different grotesque and bloody images, mixed with headlines from various newspapers of murders, mutilations, rapes and wars as "Apex Predator" by Otep plays.

Stepping out onto the stage, Ambrosia grins sadistically, letting out a scream to the sky as she cracks her neck to the left and right before walking down the ramp.

David Zinkus: Making her way to the ring, from Lexington, Kentucky, she is the "Harlequin of Hardcore"......AMBROSIA!!!

At this, Ambrosia walks around the ring before rolling in under the bottom rope. She looks out at the crowds, using the ropes as bars, like someone jailed within.

Getting back up, Ambrosia walks to the corner and steps up on the turnbuckle, grinning sadistically at the fans. Bringing her hands out to her sides, she mocks the fans and then drops back down to the ring before dropping to her knees and letting loose a guttural scream.

As "Goin Out West" plays eerily over the speakers, the crowd can't help but ignite as Devilkiller appears. His smirk is oddly appeasing as he walks down the ramp. He shakes hands oddly with a few kids, spinning around while shaking their hand. He keeps spinning then stops and holds his hands open and out to his sides. The red lighting the arena has slowly fades to grey as Devilkiller looks up and smiles directly into the camera. A off look about him as he climbs up the stairs. When he reaches the ring and walks along the ropes he turns to face the crowd, much to their appreciation. He takes off his hood but continues to look down. He then arches his back over the top rope, and slowly pushes off with his feet and back flips into the ring. He holds up his hand signature consisting of 3 fingers and a thumb protruding as well towards the fans, again to their amusement. He takes off his black hooded vest and stands in his corner ready to get it on.

Dick Morosi: This should be a good one Seth! Lexy Chapel is still keeping up with her hot streak every single time she steps inside of that ring. I don't think anything can stop that girl!

Seth Ericson: We've got two people in that ring right now who might be thinking differently. For two newcomers here in EXODUS, I think it says a lot if you can beat the reigning International champion.

Dick Morosi: Easier said than done Seth. Lexy Chapel has no kryptonite that we know of!

The referee calls for the bell to officially begin this triple threat match and Devilkiller goes charging directly for Ambrosia who attempts to defend herself against his various strikes and kicks. Lexy Chapel goes straight for the only male competitor in this match as she comes up from behind and strikes him in the back of the head with a forearm that is most effective as it catches him by surprise. Devilkiller is stunned as he releases his hold on Ambrosia and attempts to spin around on his heels where he is greeted with a kick to the temple at the hands of Chapel who hasn't missed a single beat. Devilkiller remains on his feet using his size advantage against his smaller opponent before he reaches out to stop Chapel's kicks and swiftly irish whips her directly into the corner where her back connects up against the turnbuckle. Devilkiller keeps up his momentum as he charges directly for Chapel and hits her with a clothesline that knocks her right off her feet. Devilkiller turns around where he's greeted by Ambrosia who attempts to hit him with several chops of her own until he uses his size once more to stop her and delivers a big boot directly to the gut before he connects with a snap DDT. He goes for the cover on Ambrosia.

...1!

KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: It's obvious that Devilkiller's size is going to work well for him in this match!

Dick Morosi: Hey, you know what they say, the bigger they are!

Seth Ericson: I'm not going to touch that one.

Devilkiller gets back up onto his feet along with Ambrosia and delivers a series of kicks against her legs trying to cut her back down. Chapel throws herself back into the middle of the action as she comes jumping off the top rope and heading straight in the direction of where Ambrosia is standing, but she ducks, and somehow Chapel manages to catch herself landing on her feet where she jumps back towards her opponent and jumps high connecting with a missile dropkick against the side of Ambrosia's head. Chapel goes for Devilkiller as she sends her entire body crashing up against him hoping to knock him off his feet. He stumbles back slightly and Chapel keeps attacking with all her strength and delivers an effective roundhouse kick that sends him crashing down against the mat. Chapel jumps on top of her opponent quickly not giving the big man the chance to get back up as she goes for a pinfall attempt of her own this time around.

...1!

...2!

KICKOUT!

Ambrosia jumps in breaking up the pinfall attempt by grabbing Chapel by the back of the head and roughly pulling on her hair. She tosses the small girl around the inside of the ring before she delivers a vicious backhand chop across her chest. Chapel attempts to block another attack as Ambrosia keeps reigning down with punches until she is pulled back by Devilkiller who tosses her to the side like she's nothing. He starts stomping down on Ambrosia with his boot until Chapel jumps right into his back and starts punching at the back of his head while he attempts to shake her off stumbling around the inside of the ring. He realizes how hard it is to shake someone off when they are clinging onto you and using their fists to keep pounding at the back of your head. The crowd is riled up watching Chapel keep throwing punches as hard as she can.

Dick Morosi: Who can't get a small girl off their back? Seriously?!

Seth Ericson: Come on now, you know it's not just any girl, this is Lexy Chapel!

Devilkiller goes running for the corner and he backs up directly into it smashing Chapel's back hard up against the turnbuckle. That is more than enough for her to release her hold and she goes crashing down against the mat. Devilkiller is about to focus his attention on the fallen Chapel when he's caught by Ambrosia who runs up from behind and smashes against the back of his head with both of her fists. She continues hitting him with all she's worth until he turns around, staggering slightly, and with the strength he has left he delivers another effective kick to the gut of Ambrosia which knocks the wind right out from her and she stumbles back. Devilkiller grabs onto the back of her head and he sets her up for a nasty looking piledriver that makes her bounce right off the mat upon impact. He's up on his feet quickly and hasn't noticed that Chapel is lurking behind him waiting for the right moment to strike. He slowly turns around and Chapel is up high going for another beautiful roundhouse kick that knocks him right off his feet. The crowd jumps up high with their cheers as Chapel bounces around the ring.

Dick Morosi: This one might be over quickly!

Seth Ericson: Lexy Chapel's looking to go flying, we all know what that means!

Chapel is up and climbing onto the top turnbuckle as she points towards the cheering crowd with a major smile on her face. She blows a kiss before she goes off flying high and connects on top of Devilkiller with the Social Distortion! Chapel hooks the leg and the referee is down making the count for the third pinfall attempt of this match with the crowd high with energy on their feet still cheering for the clear fan favorite.

...1!

...2!

...3!

David Zinkus: Here is your winner... THE EXODUS PRO INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION... LEXY CHAPEL!

"Cynics & Critics" hits once more as Lexy Chapel makes it to her feet and is handed her International championship belt. There is a giant smile on her face as she soaks up the cheers from the crowd reigning down on her while she celebrates another victory.

WINNER: Lexy Chapel

Dick Morosi: MASSIVE win for Lexy Chapel, but you know it's in the back of her mind, every single word Jonathan Collins said.

Seth Ericson: I've seen Jonathan at his best and at his worst, and if she doesn't come proper at our Director in two weeks in New York City, Lexy may be ready to serve up her International Title on a silver platter back to Jonathan Collins.

Dick Morosi: Take a bow, Lexy, you earned it! We'll be right back!

The problem with giving everyone the extension is that I'm often asked for the extension on deadline day and inevitably an opponent or more for the match has already posted. Knowing Lexy's handler, I know that they were quite sick last week, so when they asked, I had no problem. Not to mention that the handler has never asked for an extension in the past and was very nervous to ask for one to begin with.

Truth be told, I may wind up doing some combination of all three. Shorten the extension time, deduct the point unless your opponent(s) have the same courtesy, and not grant one for the following show.

The feed cuts backstage to show Tom Matheny standing next to the EXODUS World Champion, Andreas Lasiewicz. The Morning Star is going through his pre match prerequisites, his eyes shining with confidence and a cold focus as he prepares for his title defense in the Main Event which is a just a few moments away.

Tom Matheny: Ladies and gentleman, here I am with the EXODUS World Champion, Andreas Lasiewicz who’s about to defend his belt against Johnny Cannon in tonight’s Main Event.

The Morning Star takes a deep breath, continuing to mentally prepare himself for what awaits. He’s got a date with the aforementioned, Mr. EXODUS, a guy that will no likely test his limits, and get him prepared for a date with Kira T. Zeppeli in the not too distant future, should he be victorious.

Tom Matheny: There’s certainly no west for the wicked, Las. Between dealing with Gods & Monsters you’ve been thrust into a contest against Johnny Cannon, with your belt on the line. He’s been looking for an opportunity like this for a while, and has made no secret about his feelings about you. Do you have any thoughts?

Lasiewicz takes a deep breath, grabbing the microphone from Matheny.

Andreas Lasiewicz: I got one thing to say to Mr. Cannon-

A loud crash sounds from out of range. Lasiewicz turns as his head is hit by a stiff elbow. Startled and concerned for his own safety, Matheny backs up against the wall. Andreas falls to the ground, and the camera frantically pans up to reveal the assailant. It’s the former World Champion, Christum Furor who stands over the man that defeated and thwarted his New Age. The madman pulls Andreas up by his hair, and Lasiewicz connects with a pair of jabs to the sociopath’s gut, yet only gets decked with a right hand in response.

Christum Furor: Did you really it was that easy, Andreas?

Furor whips Andreas into the catering table, Las receiving a gut-check from the edge. Christum grabs him by the head and viciously slams him on the said piece of furniture, lifts up, then slams again. The Morning Star tries to fight back, retaliating by giving Furor a taste of his own medicine. However, the nihilist will not be bested, as he reaches out to pick up a tray of desserts before beaning Lasiewicz with the pan.

Christum Furor: How could you be so shortsighted… so caught up in your own ego and illusions that you could possibly think that I’d let you and everything you believe in continue to exist?

Andreas staggers away from the table and his rival, stumbling towards the end of the line of catering tables. He lurches down the end of the line, getting his hands on a trash can whilst doing so. He dumps the contents on the floor, wheel around, and connects just in time to Furor’s solarplexus. Christum doubles over, and the champion launches can across his back, sending the former holder of his belt to his knees. In desperation, the leader of G&M low-blows Las, forcing him to drop the can and retreat back a couple feet. Now with the can, Furor lands a thunderous shot across Lasiewicz’s head. Las stammers, rubbed and jelly-legged, as Christum places the can upside-down over the Polishian’s upper body. He then proceeds to stomp on his calfs, reducing The Morning Star to his knees. Furor walks back roughly ten feet, then charges forward with a Yakuza-like kick to the can, possibly concussing Andreas’ skull, sending him to ground in a heap on the cold concrete floor. Smiling, panting, relishing in it all, Furor begins to walk out of the frame, having succeeded in doing what he set out to accomplish..

Tom Matheny: Folks we need medical attention… someone get out here… Las is hurt, he’s hurt bad!

or so we thought. Furor walks back into the frame, holding a steel chair. He grabs the folded chairs legs, and lifts it over head, before slamming the chair down into Las’s abdominal region again… and again… and again, with all the might he can muster. The champion twitches and convulses, groaning in pain as Furor sneers down at him.

Christum Furor: No. You didn’t destroy the New Age, you merely circumvented the inevitable for a moment. But that sense of security is fleeting, and here I am to remind you of something - to remind you that I have an insurance policy. I didn’t pay for it, I didn’t buy it…. I earned it, Las. That’s right, I earned something in this terrible world, and for that I am simply the king without his crown, however that’s puts me in a win-win situation.

Furor kneels down now, scanning Las’ wounded carcass.

Christum Furor: Because if you win tonight, then you’ll get the opportunity to die by my hand… but I won’t make it quick no… I’ll keep you breathing long enough for you to see HER… and when SHE comes, regardless if it’s you or Cannon, you’ll see that Gods & Monsters cannot be defeated that your world and everything you hold dear is nearing extinction.

With that Furor pats Andreas on the shoulder, before marching out of the shot and we go back to Dick & Seth.

Dick Morosi: This...this is horrible. Christum Furor is a monster!

Seth Ericson: That's how he operates! Whether we like it or not, the former champion just put our current champion on notice!

Dick Morosi: And now he's got to defend that belt against Johnny Cannon, next!

WORLD TITLE MATCH
ANDREAS LASIEWICZ (EXODUS Pro World Champion) vs. JOHNNY CANNON

David Zinkus: Ladies and Gentleman, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the EXODUS World Championship.

Suddenly, the entrance tunnel is fixed with a bright yellow spotlight, while the arena lights dim down as the blaring chords of "Supernaut" by Black Sabbath slam into its rhythmic bellow throughout the depths of the arena, inciting an instant and vociferous reaction from the EXODUS faithful.

The tron screen comes to life playing the Brit's entrance video, a collection of fantastic performances accumulated over his experiences. As soon as Cannon's silhouette becomes visible in the entrance tunnel David Zinkus begins the formal introduction.

David Zinkus: Introducing the challenger.



On demand, energetically bursting through the entrance tunnel is none other than Johnny Cannon. The EXPRO Original, the greatest showman in professional wrestling stops and poses on the entrance stage to soak in the adulation. Wearing his MMA style tights in yellow and purple and his #MrEXODUS track jacket in black, both with numerous insignias and designs sewn over them in purple, Johnny stares out at the excited audience through a pair of white SUPER sunglasses. The Brit surveys the capacity crowd, Johnny can't help but grin from ear to ear before running up and down the entrance stage, playing up to the audience.

David Zinkus: Accompanied by Quinn Goodrich he weighs in tonight at two hundred and forty pounds, and hails from London, England. He is MR. EXODUS... JOHNNYYYY CANNON!!!!

With Goodrich walking ahead Cannon begins sauntering down the entrance ramp, slapping the hands of excited fans that shove their arms out in his direction. Coming down the middle of the ramp, he slows his pace to a stop, posing on location. He playfully points out a finger gun gesture at the crowd, playing up to the patrons before removing his two hundred dollar sunglasses and handing them to one lucky kid in the front row.



He quickly runs up the ring steps before slipping into the ring with relative ease. Continuing with his momentum, Johnny spins to the middle of the ring before coming to a stop right in front of the camera. Cannon points at the camera, mouthing "Daddy's Home" to the audience at home as he slides out of his jacket with suaveness before handing his entrance gear to the referee, who then hands it to Goodrich on the outside.



From there, Johnny slowly backs into the ropes, hooking his arms back on them before bouncing several times, apparently limbering up while Goodrich looks on from ringside; with his theme fading out, #MrEXODUS gets himself focused to hopefully put on another one of his classic performances.

Dick Morosi: This is his chance to come full circle. Johnny Cannon has been a member of the EXODUS roster since day one, and now he’s finally getting his one on one opportunity to compete for the EXODUS World Championship. Will “Mr. EXODUS” have his destiny fulfilled tonight, Seth?

Seth Ericson: I don’t know. I’m never good at predicting these things. But let’s not kid ourselves, Lasiewicz will NOT be one hundred percent, thanks in part to Christum Furor. That gives Cannon an advantage, hell a puncher’s chance. The guys beat him before, but Johnny Cannon has done the impossible over and over again… I DON’T KNOW!

The crowd gasp in awe as they hear a loud shriek over the P.A system as the lights begin to dim. The big screen springs to life, showing the image of silvery white feathers falling to a backdrop of intense flame. The show footage focuses on the screen, a figure of a mighty bird of prey clawing out with vicious, razor sharp talons, unaffected by the inferno. It’s eyes glow a fearful and bright gold, turning to crimson red as it seemingly flies out from the screen making the crowd gasp in awe. Then there is nothing. Nothing but darkness and silence.

David Zinkus: And his opponent...

The silence is broken, as a faint yet beautiful piano piece begins to play out in the background. The audience leaps to their feet, almost drowning out the sound of music as several spotlights circle around the arena as the crowd looks around in awe. Swirling violins begin to play out a haunting rhythm as a thick cloud of intoxicating smoke emits from the entrance way. Barbarian Horns fire up along with a thunderous dub step beat and distorted guitars as the Instrumental Core Remix of Hans Zimmer’s ‘Time’ fully kicks in. A hooded silhouette appears in the thick grey smog; his head is bowed as he methodically makes his way to the ring. The figure pauses for a moment, staring out into the audience. The shrouded figure of Andreas Lasiewicz steps out from the back, seemingly smoking a cigarette; his head lolled to one side as he surveys the crowd with a police baton resting on his shoulder. Around his waist is a glistening golden belt, the plate shaped like an ‘X’ with the words ‘EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight Champion’ upon it. Over his right shoulder is another belt, a much bulkier prize, but no less grand that has ‘GCW World Champion’ upon it. He pauses then points his baton towards the ring as he slowly paces there.

David Zinkus: From Krakow, Poland, weighing in at two hundred and forty-seven pounds… he is the EXODUS WORLD CHAMPION…. Andreas! Lasiewicz!

As he reaches the ring, he stops to stare out in to the crowd, he flips back his hood and lets out a short, cruel laugh as he rolls into the ring and removes his jacket, pausing with a mocking crucifix pose that would infuriate a certain competitor. He climbs one of the turnbuckles, searching out into the crowd with a Cheshire Cat grin across his face, lifting his hard earned prizes in the air for all to see. He hops down as he spinsthe baton around in his left hand for a moment before resting back against the turnbuckle, staring up into the heavens as if he is looking for answers.

Dick Morosi: Lasiewicz has got to be hurting. You couldn’t tell by his demeanor, but I know he’s hiding a lot of injuries. I’m still shocked he’s willing to go through with this match.

Seth Ericson: He’s a tough man’s toughman. Love him, or hate him, you’ve gotta respect him. This is the definition of a fighting champion, and whether he’s half a man he’s going to give Johnny Cannon the fight of his life.

Brian Lowery keeps the suspense of the match up, reviewing the rules with both participants, the crowd in a quiet hush as they wait for the sound of the bell; though they are concerned that The Morning Star would go on with the match despite beating assaulted beforehand, they respect him ever more for his resilience. The look in Lasiewicz’s eyes tells the whole story; it’s one of a man in anguish and agony, yet all of that is mixed in with his desire not to quit, and a determination to go down swinging - if he’s going down at all. The senior official finally moves to the center of the ring and points to the timekeeper, who rings the bell to start what is expected to be a PPV quality match between two of the best wrestlers in not just EXODUS, but the entire world. Johnny Cannon, the challenger, looks out into the capacity crowd for a moment, doing his best to hide his jitters; as much as we wants to deny it, he is the underdog regardless of Las’ physical condition, and with this being his first World Title match there’s little that he can do to suppress the menagerie of emotions building up in his head. Still, the best remedy for this sort of anxiety is to just get on with it - and he does.

Dick Morosi: This may be one of the biggest rematches in EXODUS History, Seth. It’s a shame that it’s been soured by that heinous assault by Christum Furor.

Seth Ericson: But look at Las, he’s not one to make excuses. He’s focused. He could have refused to compete tonight, but he didn’t. This isn’t just about defending the World Title, it’s about proving to Gods & Monsters that he won’t let them get the best of him.

Dick Morosi: Courages, he’s simply courageous, Seth. He may not think himself as one, but he certainly is a hero, especially to these people.

Seth Ericson: A hero that Johnny Cannon wants to kill, right now.

Cannon and Lasiewicz circle the ring for a few seconds and by mutual thought, both competitors lurch forward into a tie-up. Andreas, being built a bit wider, is able to use his strength advantage to gain control of the tie-up, and he slowly pushes Mr. EXODUS into the corner. Following a count of four from Brian Lowery, Andreas retreats into the middle of the ring, never taking his eyes off his adversary, who takes a few deep breaths and remains visibly flustered. Upon dusting himself down and stepping into the middle of the ring, Johnny influences a second collar and elbow tie up, only to get the same result in the push. This time however, before he can be shoved back into the turnbuckles he is able to counter, deftly maneuvering so that he ends up in the prime offensive position, and is able to capitalize by doing the very thing The Morning Star was attempting to do to him. Though instead of holding him at bay, Cannon opps to let go of the champion, and as an alternative he charges forward with a well-placed knee to the abdomen, doubling the Krakow native over yet making sure to keep him pinned upright on the turnbuckle.

Lasiewicz grimaces in pain, and it’s clear that this particular region of his anatomy, the one that was keyed in on during Furor’s assault, will be a cause for concern and more importantly, a bullseye that the former two time International Champion will exploit. Beginning to gain his confidence, Cannon looks down at the weakened World Champion forces The Morning Star back upright, still wedged between two hundred forty pounds of fighting spirit and the cold pads of the turnbuckle, and Cannon drives another knee right into the champion’s ribcage. Continuing to exert his dominance, the Brit pulls Lasiewicz out of the corner and immediately goes for an Irish Whip. Andreas is launched across the squared circle, and ricocheted off the trio of cables. Deceptively agile for his advanced age, the World Champion ducks under Cannon’s attempt at a Lariat and hits the ropes for a second consecutive time. Once again, Las is able to avoid being guillotined by the challenger’s arm as he thwarts another Clothesline attempt - however his third return trip ends up with a shift in the current paradigm. Mr. EXODUS spins around with a raised knee, maliciously driving it into Lasiewicz’s solarplexus, sending him somersaulting forward onto the mat, back-first. The EXPRO original immediately slides onto the veteran and puts and elbow over Las’ head, wedging the Polishian’s shoulders down as hard as he can to increase his foe’s distress and discomfort.

Dick Morosi: Cannon seems to have gotten his wits about him. It looked like he was getting lost in the moment earlier, but now he’s in control of things - thanks in part to a brutal knee to the gut.

Seth Ericson: Andreas is wrestling with a literal hole in his stomach. Though courageous and valiant of him, the champion has given his opponent a foolproof game plan, and you can’t do something like that to a guy the caliber of Johnny Cannon.

”ONE!”

Everyone in the arena expected a kick out, and Andreas Lasiewicz obliges, realizing he won’t be able to roll a shoulder over in his current predicament so he opted to kick out instead. Cannon goes straight back on the attack, quickly grappling the Polish native by the head, pulling him to a vertical base with a cravat. From there Johnny unleashes a series of knee strikes to the stomach in rapid, forceful succession, continuing his assault on his foe’s battered midriff. From there he drags him toward the ropes before trapping Las in a front facelock; upon throwing his arm over his shoulder, Cannon lifts him up into the air for what appears to a vertical suplex. However, Mr. EXODUS flourishes his ring acumen and technical genius, as he tosses The Morning Star down onto the top cable, and with Andreas’ abdomen taking the brunt of the force and his weight pressing down on the ropes the pressure is used against him. With a yelp of agony Lasiewicz falls forward, landing supinely on the canvas with a slight thud.

Cannon steps away and turns his attention to the teaming masses packing the RIMAC arena, a cocksure grin beginning to manifest on his British mug as his confidence increases with every passing second. The third place finalist in the Brightest Day Cibernetico nods to himself repeatedly, whilst muttering words in secrecy, likely just a personal pep talk to further intensify his current feeling of self assurance. Meanwhile, the Champion was stirring, rolling onto his front in an effort to try and push himself up to a vertical base. The look of poise mixed with a touch of arrogance widens on the Brit’s face as Johnny charges forward to put an end to The Morning Star’s recuperation. Mr. EXODUS plants a stiff boot into Las’ ribs for his troubles, sending his opponent rolling onto his back from the impact, his face contorted into a bitter grimace. However, the ring veteran has the sense of mind to continue rolling out of the ring, knowing recouping instead of trying to withstand this open match flurry is the better part of valor. He lands on the cold floor in sweaty, pain filled heap, with the ring ropes the only thing keeping him at a safe distance from the rampant challenger. Standing tentatively triumphant, Cannon opts to play to the crowd, outstretching in the Atlas pose which garners a less enthusiastic response from the EXODUS faithful than he had hoped.

Seth Ericson: And there he goes Dick, “Mr. EXODUS” is starting to feel himself. He had to get his feet into the water to test it out, but now he’s one hundred percent sure of himself. He’s owning this moment, and he’s owning the champion.

Dick Morosi: Most people would argue that Cannon should have stayed on Lasiewicz. Instead, he’s posing and making a spectacle of himself. We’ve been seeing a little bit more of that sort of behavior from him more and more since his return, and you can tell by the crowd reaction that they’re a little bit on the fence.

Seth Ericson: I don’t know, if this was my first World Title match and everything was going how I wanted it to, I’d probably be showing off a little too. Can’t hate the guy for that.

Dick Morosi: No, but you’d probably want to show a little more respect to your opponent, and a man who shouldn’t be counted out, Seth.

As Andreas struggles to his feet, Cannon steps through the ropes and onto the apron, awaiting the World Champion’s attention. When Lasiewicz does look up, Johnny clasps his hands together; jumping off the apron looking to slam his fists into the crown of the Polish Spirit, the former two time International Champion only receives a stiff forearm underneath his chin. Las connects with a brutal European Uppercut that ignites the crowd, though leaves both men lying on the floor. Looking to take the reins so to speak, Andreas mounts his adversary and begins to pound the Brit’s skull with forearm and elbow after forearm and elbow. After a quick combination of strikes, Lasiewicz climbs to his feet, and before Cannon even has a chance to recover he slams a boot into the Englishman’s ribs. The Morning Star finally gives way, allowing Johnny to clamber to his feet with help of the nearby announce table. Andreas notices this, and grabs the back of Cannon’s head before slamming it into the desk, rattling the monitors, papers, and everyone in the vicinity - especially Seth and Dick. Not content with just the one, Las forces the challenger into the wood once again, only this time hard enough to make the Brit rebound and fall onto the side of the nearby barricade. The Briton’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to shake off the painfully throbbing migraine, while the champion soaks in the approval of the San Diegans who have been given new life.

Unfortunately, Andreas took his eye off the ball for too long, something he rarely does, and something you can’t do when you’re fighting someone like Johnny Cannon. He had given the challenger a much needed chance to regain his bearings once more. When he turns around after heeding the warnings of the fans, the Briton slaps Las with both hands on either side of his head, producing an effect similar to that of a flashbang in the battlefield. Nonetheless, Andreas is stunned long enough for Cannon to take advantage of his window of opportunity; Mr. EXODUS quickly grabs the Polishian by the arm before whipping him into the steel post holding up the ring, which The Morning Star bounces off head first before falling to the ground.

Dick Morosi: Good Lord that impact was unsettling. There’s no give in that post, Seth. That violent collision will definitely leave the champion in a bad way.

Seth Ericson: And now Andreas will have to “check his brain” to make sure it’s still in his skull. That was a great sequence there from the challenger, knowing he had to stop Las’ momentum and quiet the champion’s section of fans before The Morning Star could really get going.

By now Cannon had already rolled Lasiewicz back inside the ring before climbing in himself. As The Morning Star cradles his head in pain, Johnny proceeds to stomp him in the chest forcing the Polishian to sit up in shock. Mr. EXODUS then runs to the ropes, rebounds, then lifts up his boot before planting it right into the champion’s face. Andreas is laid is laid out spread eagle from vile kick, while the Briton smiles and raises his arms in appeal for a crowd reaction, only to once again receive a less than flattering response. There’s a growing number of detractors in the crowd, yet the mixed reaction does little to deter the man who is two thirds the way of completing the EXODUS Triple Crown from placing a foot onto the fallen Krakow native’s stomach in what is a very unsportsmanlike pinfall attempt - one Brian Lowery acknowledges much to his own chagrin.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

The lax cover makes it easy for The Morning Star to raise a shoulder up. Lowery immediately rebukes Cannon for his condescending gesture, which the Englishman flags off playfully as if he was just messing around before apologizing, though whether this expression of contrition was sincere or not is debatable. Las rolls away from Cannon to earn himself some valuable separation whilst the Briton continues to debate with the referee about his adherence to the rules and regulations. Andreas crawls towards the nearest ropes and grabs the bottom cable, dragging his wounded carcass as he does so, a brief interlude in the match occurring as the champion tries his best to overcome his ailments. The argument with Lowery finally ceases, and Cannon soon returns to the task in hand, Mr. EXODUS striding purposefully over to The Morning Star. However, with a hold of the bottom rope, Andreas proceeds to pull himself wakwardly to his full verticality, showing the sort of resiliency that’s made him a multi time World Champion spanning across numerous promotions. Seeing his physical and mental advantage slowly dissipate, Cannon charges straight at him, lunging forward hoping to Clothesline Andreas over the top rope, but, showing his veteran instincts and savvy, Las drops to the canvas and pulls the top rope down him him, momentum playing Cannon for a fool, the Brit sent tumbling over the top wire and to the floor below as a result.

Dick Morosi: An act of recklessness on the part of the challenger, and that could be the opening Andreas needs.

Seth Ericson: It very could be, but let’s not forget how much punishment Andreas has already endured. The question now, how much does he have left?

Seth Ericson: That’s a very good point, Seth. But remember who we’re talking about. Lasiewicz knows all the tricks, and knows how to win matches like these. He’s done it so many times in the past. That’s why he’s a living legend in this business, and that’s why this match isn’t over just yet.

The rush of adrenaline finally begins to show itself for The Morning Star, and he unsteadily pushes himself up from the canvas. Watching Cannon struggle to get up for a moment, he realizes what the next move have to be, regardless of the risk. Rushing to the far ropes, he leaps like a man shot out of a cannon, clearing the set of ropes before him. Johnny can only watch as Lasiewicz flies toward him, and the fans get on their feet in response to the perfect suicide plancha. Both men lie motionless for a moment Andreas unable to follow up or do anything for that matter. The only thing he can do is breathe. Lying next to his foe, they both stare up at the well lit ceiling, slowly panting amidst the endless camera flashes and the screams and cheers of the crowd - that is until Andreas kips up to his feet to a roar of approval from the EXODUS lifeblood. Cannon writhes about in agony now, feeling the pressure of being on the defensive end for the what feels like the first time in the match. Lasiewicz wastes no time in grabbing the Briton by the scruff of his neck as Johnny is doubled over, the champion throwing the challenger into the barricade back-first, to another loud chorus of cheers from the lively audience. Now wanting to relent his attack, Las walks over to the propped up showman and throws right hands right into the Brit’s face, the two time International Champion unable to cover up, swallowing a number of knuckle sandwiches before the Polishian ceases his violent onslaught.

Andreas looks around once more, acknowledging the support of the fans before grabbing cannon by the arm and launching him into the set of steel ring steps with an almighty clatter. The resulting impact causes the Briton to end up on the other side of the aforementioned piece of furniture after somersaulting over them, rolling around on the lightly padded floor, pure agony etched on his face while Lasiewicz thinks of a way to maximize his foe’s newfound discomfort. Going over his plan in his mind, the Polishian marches over to the steel steps. Grabbing a hold of Cannon’s injured leg, he props said limp onto the metallic structure. With Mr. EXODUS almost unconscious due to the pain in his knee, Johnny is powerless to resist as Lasiewicz stomps down onto his his kneecap, compressing the bone between his foot and the ring step, a blood-curdling scream emitting from the swaggering showman in response. Andreas doesn’t stop there, as he stomps down on the knee again - and again - again before finally relenting.

Seth Ericson: Cannon’s leg could be broken after that. This is a side that Andreas has displayed since he vowed to be the one to stop the New Age. A very mean streak.

Dick Morosi: And he’s targeting Johnny’s surgically repaired knee, and that takes aware Cannon’s patented Roundhouse Kick. That’s what sets the champion apart from the pack, his intelligence and veteran awareness. He’s taking away the challenger’s best weapon.

Seth Ericson: And doing it in a rather sadistic fashion.

Dick Morosi: Earlier you wondered whether Lasiewicz could hope to win this match, but not the roles have reversed. “Mr. EXODUS” is now the one on the wrong side of the spectrum.

Andreas steps back a few feet as Cannon’s leg falls, the Briton never having felt pain like this in his career. Thinking he might have done enough to keep the Englishman down, The Morning Star is quick to pick up the wounded Brit and slide him into the squared circle, following with greater speed than Mr. EXODUS can even comprehend with his injured leg. The Polish Assassin stalks his weakened foe as the challenger tries to ease the pain shooting through his bones and muscles, before Cannon painstakingly clambers to his knees and ascends to a vertical base. Seeing his opportunity to deliver more punishment, Las maneuvers behind the groggy brit before capturing his shin with his right hand. He wraps a free arm around Cannon’s torso whilst bending the right leg and hoisting his adversary into the air. The Morning Star descends to his left knee, coercing Cannon’s shin into his raised right knee, showing that has no intentions of deviating from his earlier assault on the Brit’s impaired lower appendage. Still holding his opponent following the textbook Shinbreaker, he places Johnny’s near arm over his shoulder, then lifts him back into the air before falling backwards, slamming the Briton into the canvas with a Saito Suplex which holds on for the pin.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

Las’ pinfall comes nail-bitingly close to ensuring a successful first title defense, but Cannon is able to escape at the last second, kicking out much to the Polishian’s chagrin. The challenger crawl toward the nearest corner, his hand gingerly caressing his injured leg in hopes to alleviate the trauma, meanwhile Andreas returns to a stand. Cannon begins to pull himself up in the corner, prompting Andreas to charge in with intent on completely dismantling him. Johnny senses the forthcoming threat, and despite seemingly standing on one leg, has the necessary wits to dodge the attack. The lunging champion is unable to bring his momentum to a halt, and consequently crashes sternum first into the turnbuckles. The Krakowian feels a rush of pain in his chest, feeling like he just had the wind knocked out of him as he backpedals from the corner. Cannon hastily advances behind him, quickly grabbing his foe’s right wrist and elbow before bending it back into a standard hammerlock. Affected by the slight paralysis in his arm, the champion leans forward, tentatively increasing the numbness in the joint, before pivoting his body slightly toward Cannon; he liberates his arm, then instantly counters with a waistlock, looking to bring the Brit down with a German Suplex. The catch as catch can wrestling master has other plans however, as the former cagefighter turned actor turned British ring technician slips one hand down into the hold and effectively severs Las’ grip before connecting with a back elbow to give himself some breathing room. Following his counter, he turns around, lifting his in the direction of the champ’s midsection, yet his foot falls short of the Polishian’s breadbasket as Las catches it with cupped hands. Andreas immediately sweeps Cannon off his feet, before draping the captured leg over his neck, pulling down on the Johnny’s foot to place pressure on his foe’s already injured knee.

Dick Morosi: Stretch Muffler! These two traded counters with the champion getting the better of that exchange.

Seth Ericson: Andreas is bending that leg for dear life. He might snap it in half.

Dick Morosi: Cannon has been put in a compromising predicament. His championship dreams hang in the balance, resting on his ability to either get to the ropes or find a way to escape this hold. He’ll have to act quickly, as there’s no doubt that banged up knee can barely withstand much more.

Andreas Lasiewicz continues to apply the pressure, offering a primeval warcry of effort, the agony caused by the grueling submission screaming from every fiber in the Briton’s body. Cannon’s hand flail wildly, as he desperately tries to claw his way to the ropes. The Morning Star will not allow him to do so, as he drags Johnny from the safety of the ropes, just as soon as Mr. EXODUS had gotten close enough to grab them. The Argentine Leglock remains locked in, as Andreas tries to force the submitory words from Cannon’s lips. The Brit crie out in pain, frustration and desperation as all his technical awareness is thrown out of the window, the challenger instead relying on another means to escape the submission hold. He plants his palms into the canvas, lifting up into a pushup position before turning on his back, forcing Las to remove his leg from around his head, allowing the Brit to respond with brute force as he fires a series of boots to the face with his free leg. Finally free from the hold, Johnny rolls back clutching his knee as he desperately attempts to alleviate the pain shooting through his vulnerable appendage. Andreas lies curled on his side, fingers brushing over his head as it assimilates the trauma it just sustained.

Finally, the champion creaks up onto one knee, trying his best to shake the cobwebs and refocus himself. Back on his feet now, Cannon marches toward Lasiewicz, albeit with a visible limp. He quickly seizes Las’ arm, proceeding to twist it, applying pressure to the Triple Crown winner’s shoulder and elbow. Andreas winces in agony, the exchange of submissions continuing as the challenger detains him with an armbar. With absolutely no intention such a profound level of discomfort, Las regains a vertical base before turning inward to face his antagonist palliating the pressure being applied by the maneuver. He then unleashes a quick kick that impinges the challenger’s already shaky foundation. Johnny’s weakened knee buckles, compelling his defenses to lower, thus allow Andreas to take advantage. With Cannon doubled over, Andreas seizes his right arm and in one fluid motion, steps over the captured limb and twists his body in mid-air, ending with both competitors landing supinely on the canvas with the Polishian jerking the Briton’s wrist upward and consequently hyperextending his shoulder and elbow.

Seth Ericson: ARMBARS… I REPEAT… ARMBARS EVERYWHERE, DICK!

Dick Morosi: Turnabout is fair play, Seth! Andreas might break that arm in two if Cannon doesn’t tap out. This is a brilliant strategy by the champion. He worked on the leg at the start, now he’s focusing on the arm.

Cannon extends his free arm towards the ropes, but the cables are much too far away. The sweat trickled from his brow, the gears beginning to spin out of control in his head as he comes to the realization that he’ll have to concede to the pain if the situation isn’t dealt with. Tucking his free arm into his body, Johnny shifts his weight into one quick momentum swinging motion that left his body strength pressuring Lasiewicz’s submission, forcing the champion to relinquish the hold resulting in the Brit breaking loose. Taking residence in the corner of the ring now, Las lies in wait, readying himself for what could be a match ending shot. Johnny pulls up to a knee, with his right arm having gone dead, and left hanging limp and benumbed. Mr. EXODUS stumbles and falls in an attempt to reach his feet, but the moment comes eventually. Andreas, stands, before sprinting toward his battered foe. Cannon turns around, but his consciousness knew something terrible was afoot, forcing him to duck at the eleventh hour to avoid The Peacemaker, which if connected, would have certainly ensured a successful title retention for The Morning Star. Las’ speed causes him to run straight into the turnbuckle, killing all his momentum. The World Champion backtracks, clutching his chest, before turning around half-heartedly. Bad move. Immediately, Las’ head is smashed in by a raised boot, and everything in The Morning Star’s world fades to black. Cannon slumps to the ground too, clutching the injured leg that delivered the strike, the last bit of his adrenaline spent on that desperation Roundhouse Kick.

Dick Morosi: ROUNDHOUSE! ROUNDHOUSE! Can Cannon score the biggest win of his career?

Seth Ericson: I don’t think he can, Dick. He’s spent. He had to use his bad leg to do it. Both these guys look out of it.

The crowd is at a fever pitch, realizing that Andreas Lasiewicz could be knocked out by the hands of a Johnny Cannon and many get to their feet, cheering, buzzing, and making any sound that they can - half the crowd trying to rally Mr. EXODUS to a winning pinfall, the other trying to wake the champion up from unconsciousness. Cannon tries to reach to the sky, but his hands falls back down the ground and Brian Lowery takes a look at both men, decided to start his count for a possible double knockout.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

“FOUR!”

“FIVE!”

“SIX!”

Showing signs of life now, Canon starts to stir and raises his hand again in an attempt to pull himself up to a vertical base. Las crawls into the furthest corner from his opponent, who is still tending to his leg. Johnny finally on his feet, takes homage in the opposite corner from The Morning Star, who deliriously blows hair from in front of his face, clearly exhausted by the battle they’ve waged. Johnny looks out into the crowd, then at Lasiewicz, showing the champion that he had indeed arrived and was deserving of his respect. There’s a divided loyalty in the bleachers, one set of fans chanting “LET’S GO LASIEWICZ!” which is followed after with a shout of “LET’S GO CANNON!” from the Briton’s supporters in the crowd.

Dick Morosi: The fans are torn here, Seth. Even they don’t know who to root for.

The two battle-weary combatants approach each other once more, with the atmosphere in the RIMAC arena growing to near biblical proportions. Both superstars are glassy eyed, and wary as to who will make the first move, so the situation is made to look like a staredown. After what seems like an eternity, Cannon takes the initiative, stunning Las with a European Uppercut. The Morning Star quickly follows suit, responding with a STIFF European Uppercut of his own, Johnny equally as dazed into a temporary vegetative state. Las takes advantage, slinging the challenger to the ropes. Cannon bounces back, and is met by Lasiewicz, who doubles over to vault him into the air. The Brit lands on the small of his back with a thud. Mr. EXODUS balls up his fist, as well as his face, the pain seemingly unbearable. But being the fighter that he is, he gets up immediately, only to be confronted by an outstretched arm; an obvious attempt of a Clothesline by the champion. Cannon bobs the underneath the arm, avoiding the impact by mere millimeters. Las is shocked by Cannon’s sudden burst of energy in spite of his injuries, and turns right into a series of vicious slaps to the face, followed by a STIFF elbow strike, and even STIFFER forearm ending with a Running Single Leg Dropkick that takes the champ off his feet. With The Clockwork Orange completed, the challenger quickly goes for a lateral press.

Dick Morosi: He got it! The Clockwork Orange! What a combination of strikes! And the cover!

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

Before Lowery’s hand can hit the ground for a third time Las is able to power out of the pinfall attempt. Both men get to their feet, but Cannon already sets off at a run, looking to connect with a Lariat. This time, Las is too quick for Johnny, and he weaves around the attack before running towards the ropes himself. Both men rebound off the opposite cables at the same time, but Andreas is the quickest out of the blocks, leaping into the air gracefully. His raised knee smashes into the Briton’s mug, as the sound of bone crunching against a sweaty face echoes throughout the spectrum, ending with both men falling to the ground in a mess of battered bodies. On instinct alone, Lasiewicz rolls over and goes for the cover.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

Cannon convulses his whole body once to halt the pin, Las rolling off of him in frustration. There’s a brief pause in the action now with the only movement coming from the heaving chests of the two gladiators in the ring, whilst the fans lap everything single thing up - they know they’re witnessing a classic.

Seth Ericson: He kicked out! Las hit The Peacemaker, but Mr. EXODUS refuses to die. These two, they keep going. What wind is this, Dick?

Dick Morosi: I can’t tell you myself. I don’t know what’s keeping either man in this thing. If I were to guess it’d be their respective fighting spirits. These are two of the most competitive men in our sport. They want to be regarded as the greatest, and they’re putting on a performance worthy of that type of praise.

Cannon and Las get to their feet simultaneously and turn toward each other. The Briton connects with a THUNDEROUS European Uppercut. Las stumbles back but immediately charges forward and answers with a boot to the head. Another Uppercut. Another Big Boot. A third Uppercu and now a fourth which sends Andreas staggering into the corner in a dazed stupor, leaving him open to further abuse. Cannon pummels the Polishian with more and more European Uppercuts, then with rapid fire shots to the ribs and stomach, leaving his adversary immobile. In control, Johnny grabs a hold of Andreas’ arm, sling-shotting him into the opposite set of ropes. Las comes running back, but he ducks his head under the Englishman’s outstretched arm. Surprised, Cannon shakes his head and turns around, but fails to react to Andreas’ counter attack. The Morning Star connects with a Polish Hammer, knocking Cannon to the mat with authority. The champion wastes no time in vying for a pinfall, flopping on his adversary's limp form.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

Dick Morosi: Kickout! I thought the fat lady was singing.

Seth Ericson: Nope just warming up her throat. Whoever the song is for, that remains to be seen!

Just as the commentators exclaimed, Cannon manages to kick out at the count of about two-and-nine-tenths. The crowd gasps, wondering how both men keeping finding it within themselves to fight on. Las turns his head and spits to the side, where a wad of saliva and blood land on the already damp canvas. The champion returns his focus to his adversary, grabbing Johnny by the head before lifting him to a vertical base. Las lays into the groggy Briton with a series of rights and lefts that land without a reply. The impact causes Mr. EXODUS to stagger backwards, not stopping until he reaches the turnbuckle. Andreas doesn’t relent on the punches though, as he continues to rain down blow after blow on the skull of his foe. The World Champion finally retreats, backing to the turnbuckle opposite of Cannon, who seems out on his feet. Not taking any time to delay, Las charges toward his foe, with many in the bleachers thinking that if he connects with this maneuver it’s all she wrote. Johnny isn’t going for it though; he circumvents the attack, and just as Las impinges the turnbuckles does Cannon slip behind with a rearwaistlock - looking for the Chaos Theory German Suplex, Cannon pulls back, however the astute champion grabs the ropes on either side of him. Johnny rolls back empty handed due to the counter, his compromised leg preventing him from springing back to his feet. However, he fights back to a vertical base nonetheless, and does so in time to deliver a kick to the midsection.

As Las doubles over the challenger mightily swings and bends his elbow, the outcropping of bone clashing into the Polishian’s cranium. His vision is immediately blurred as his braincase attempts to assimilate the situation, his knees buckling from the debilitating force behind the elbow strike. With the champion in dire straights, Cannon quickly applies a front facelock, hooking his foe’s near arm behind his neck. Upon grasping the rim of Lasiewicz’s tights, the challenger hoists The Morning Star into the air before dropping down to connect with his Lifting Single Arm DDT, spiking the champion into the canvas head first with a STIFF, benumbing force. Not giving away any time to savour the moment, Johnny rolls over as fast as he can before hooking the champ’s leg.

Dick Morosi: CANNON DRIVER II! This is it, Seth!

”ONE!”

“TWO!-”

Seth Ericson: He kicked out! This crowd is stunned. Cannon is stunned. WE’RE ALL STUNNED! Andreas Lasiewicz is made of adamantium. He’s unbreakable.

Cannon rolls onto his back, his mouth agape in shock and horror that he can’t keep Andreas down. He simply stares at the bright lights on the ceiling of the RIMAC arena, welcoming them as if they were the lights of heaven coming to greet his weary body through the pearly white gates. A quick shake of the head, and the Londiniere is pulled back to reality. He rolls away from the supine Lasiewicz, wanting to get as much breathing room as possible. Cannon pushes himself to a vertical base and stumbles toward the ropes. With The Morning Star now stirring in the center of the ring, the British Mamba shakes his injured leg, loosening it up, knowing that the only thing that stands between him and the EXODUS World Championship at this point is one Roundhouse Kick to the one. Andreas pulls himself to his feet and leans on the rope for a second, Johnny stalking right behind him, and the instant the Polishian turns around, the challenger goes for it all. Cannon swings his leg and closes his eyes - NOTHING. Having scouted the move, having watched enough tape Lasiewicz ducks and is now crouched behind this foe, getting into a perfect squatted position and immediately lifts Cannon up onto his shoulders. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lasiewicz tosses him off his shoulders, putting his arm around the Briton’s head before falling and dragging Mr. EXODUS down with a Reverse DDT - the two men land on the canvas amidst an almost unanimous roar from the crowd.

Dick Morosi: UNFORGETTABLE FIRE! HE IT IT! THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE!

”ONE!”

Seth Ericson: Un-frickin-believable!

“TWO!”

Mr. EXODUS convulses his shoulder and arms to cheers, able to break the count and more importantly preserve his championship aspirations. Lasiewicz rolls onto his stomach and balls fists, his eyes widen in sheer disbelief, unable to grasp how one man could withstand such punishment, let alone kick out of the very move that has sealed the fate of countless foes. His mind jumbles for a moment, then finally clears up, focusing on one goal. Filtering his thoughts, he gazes at Cannon’s lifeless frame, and more importantly, his injured leg. Back on his feet, Las scrambles toward Johnny’s lower extremities, quickly taking a hold of the Briton’s injured leg before viciously on every possible tendon he can destroy, not once or twice, but thrice, each stomp drawing a grunt and cry of agony from the tenacious challenger. With his plan beginning to come to fruition, Las grasps the same limb and hoists it into the air, before dropping his entire body weight on top of it, then again, and a third time, Cannon clawing the canvas in fear as his knee feels like it might rip from it’s socket. WIth the leg still in his possession, Las climbs to his feet and immediately does a Spinning Toe Hold before grasping the other leg, crossing the into a four to complete his strategy, a submission that has claimed a plethora of victims throughout The Morning Star’s illustrious career.

Seth Ericson: FOUR CARD TRICK! Cannon could tap out here at any moment. He’s flailing like a flounder, like a caught fist, like… like-

Dick Morosi: Like someone in danger of having his leg snapped in half!

A flurry of fanfare comes from everyone in attendance, as Lasiewicz continues to crank the hold. Before the pain can become unbearable, Cannon leans up, driving a fist right into his assailant’s face. Andreas refuses to let go though, despite eating a second and a third right hand. Desperately, with everything he’s got, Johnny drags his body to the ropes, reaching out… YES! He’s able to get a hand on the bottom rope, much to Las’ chagrin and dismay. With Lowery calling for a break Andreas has no choice but to release the challenger. Still, he keeps a hold of Cannon’s legs, deciding he’ll just have drag him into the center of the ring and slap it back on. Knowing exactly what Las has in store for him, Cannon throws his free leg up to kick him in the face. The Polishian’s grip is loosened slightly, which encourages Johnny to throw another kick. The Heavyweight backs off, freeing Johnny and stumbling backward. As Las falls to one knee in a wave of disorientation, Cannon slowly creaks up, using the ring ropes to pull himself up to his feet, albeit struggling.

Seth Ericson: This is it. They’re on their last legs. It’s do or die now, Dick!

Dazed and bewildered, The Morning Star finally comes to a stand, and immediately sees a boot come swinging in his direction. He ducks, having just barely escaped being knocked out, and quickly pivots on his heel. As Johnny turns he goes for the Polish Hammer - NO. Cannon ducks, spins and goes for another Roundhouse but Lasiewicz dodges in, quickly moving behind his foe before trying to scoop Cannon onto his shoulders. Knowing what the Heavyweight’s intentions are, Johnny quickly uses the momentum of the lift to slip behind Andreas. Having has his equilibrium altered, Lasiewicz steadies his feet and turns around to investigate - he finds his answer in the form of Johnny Cannon swinging his leg in a semi-circular motion, his boot impinging on The Morning Star’s cranium, switching the lights off.

Dick Morosi: ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

Seth Ericson: Cannon is gonna do it!

Dropping to his knees, the Brit covers the unconscious Lasiewicz, and it doesn’t take long before Mr. EXODUS achieves his dream.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

*DING DING DING*

And just like that, Mr. EXODUS became Mr. World Champion.

David Zinkus: Here is your winner, and the NEEEEEEWWWWWWWW EXODUS World Champion... Johnny! CANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNON!

WINNER (and NEW EXODUS Pro World Champion): JOHNNY CANNON

The scene fades to copyright as Cannon is clutching the world title, tears streaming from his eyes.

The camera cuts to the backstage area after the commercials, where Nate Soto is in the corner of a dressing room, freshly showered and changed, packing his things into his bag. He adjusts the cap that covers his unstyled hair and lets out an audible sigh, then almost jumps at the voice that comes from behind him.

Kameron Chase: What the hell happened out there, Nate?

Nate doesn't even look up at his mentor; instead he just shakes his head and then shrugs his shoulders as he continues to put things into his bag.

Nate Soto: I don't know, Kam. It just wasn't my night, I guess.

Kameron Chase: Not good enough, kid.

Nate Soto: Nothing ever is.

Nate's words come in a mumble and he zips up the bag after dumping in the rest of his things. Kameron arches a brow but doesn't respond directly to the rookie's comment.

Kameron Chase: Well, clearly you still don't know what you're doing out there and you don't have what it takes to stand on your own two feet--

Nate sighs and spins around, causing Kameron to stop speaking at the sudden movement. Nate lifts his eyes to look at the taller man and then lowers his head again, gaze narrowing on the concrete ground for a few seconds before he finds the courage to meet Kameron's eyes again.

Nate Soto: I get it, okay? I'm not good enough and you don't wanna be associated with me anymore. You told me this already. I had my "warning".

After slinging his bag over his shoulder, Nate makes a move to round Kameron and leave the locker room. Chase doesn't make any attempt to stop him but turns around to watch him, speaking out as the Texan reaches the door.

Kameron Chase: Not what I was going to say but if you wanna tuck your tail between your legs and go home, then go right ahead.

With his hand on the handle of the door, Nate stops. He stays still for a few seconds before slowly turning to look over his shoulder.

Nate Soto: Then what?

Kameron Chase: Well, it seems pretty obvious to me that you still need to me to hold your hand and walk you through everything, so let me show you how it's done.

Frowning, Nate turns around, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as he looks at his trainer.

Nate Soto: And what does that mean?

Kameron Chase: Next show, we'll team up. We'll go at whoever they wanna throw us up against and I'll give you a real lesson on what it takes to be a wrestler.

Nate Soto: I thought you were "retired".

Kameron Chase: Yeah, so did I... But you know how it goes... Desperate times and all that.

Kameron shrugs and Nate nods his head.

Nate Soto: Alright. Worth a shot, I guess.

Kameron Chase: Then I'll get it done.

The rookie gives a hint of a smile, which Kameron returns and then slips out of the door. We cut back to Dick and Seth.

Dick Morosi: It's been several months since we've seen Kameron Chase in an EXODUS ring, but here we are now!

Seth Ericson: This should be interesting. Who do you think will be the pair to face off against Chase and Soto?

Dick Morosi: That's the real question. For now, we've got a match coming next! For the first time in EXODUS' rich history, two originals square off in their first encounter! Abby Park meets former World Champion, Christum Furor...next!

SINGLES MATCH
ABBY PARK vs. CHRISTUM FUROR

The lights in the arena dim to just below total black as a soft, lilting tune from a traditional zither gently plays throughout the sound system. The figure of Abby Park stands in front of the entryway, her back facing the crowd. A light shines on the symbol emblazoned on the back of her attire. The zither fades as a roaring drum kicks in.



"Maw Maw Song" by The Joy Formidable blasts through the arena as the lights come up. Abby turns around and thrusts both fists into the air, her mouth open in a shout that is all but drowned out by the music.

David Zinkus: Making her way to the ring, weighing in at 118 pounds... From Nashville, Tennessee, ABBY PARK!



Abby brings her fists down but looks at her right arm for a mere moment. After looking at the arm, she lightly slaps her cheeks three times and proceeds to walk down the ramp, her eyes focused intently on the ring. Though her eyes remain forward, she averts them as she slaps a few hands with the fans, grinning ear to ear.



Using the steps to get to the apron, Abby steps into the ring and stands in the center. Abby lifts her left palm in front of her chest. Quickly she hits her palm with her right fist. Once. Twice. Three times. After the third time she raises her right fist skyward, again her mouth letting out a yell.



Before dropping her fist, she points towards a random section of the crowd and gives a thumbs up, listening for the reaction. She drops her fist and walks towards a corner and waits, eyes towards her opponent, as the music dies down until the zither plays briefly before coming to an end.

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

David Zinkus: And her opponent, representing Gods & Monsters... Fighting out of Detroit Michigan, he stands at six foot-four inches tall, and weighs in tonight at two-hundred and forty pounds... he is "The Loaded Pistol" CHRISTUM FUROR!



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

Dick Morosi: So, what do you think, Seth? Does Abby Park have what it takes to take down the self-proclaimed God?

Seth Ericson: You know damn well she has just as much of a chance as anyone else. Abby's been around EXODUS, showing her worth, and now that we're here today, you better believe she'll be turning some heads.

Dick Morosi: Turning some heads? Are you serious, Seth? Is that all you think about?

Seth Ericson: ... I think about other things too.

Dick Morosi: Like what?

Seth pauses, trying to think to himself.

Seth Ericson: You can't just put me on the spot like that, Dick! You're suck a Dick! Can we just watch this match already?

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

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



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

DING DING DING!

The match begins with the two circling each other, albeit briefly before Christum Furor makes the first move. He steps forward, quickly hooking Abby for a double underhook DDT that sends her to the mat. She quickly makes it to her feet, landing a swift back fist to Christum's face. This only ignores the false god, stumbling back for a moment before smashing her jaw with a harsh European uppercut to the chin, his eyes feuled with fire, Abby retorting with a European uppercut of her own, focused on the match at hand.

Dick Morosi: These two are so evenly matched in the early moments of this match. It's a--

And with that, Furor slips behind her and lands a heavy German suplex, an armbar submission that causes Abby to scream out under the pressure. She desperately reaches for the ropes, but to no avail. Christum worked on that arm with intensity before releasing his grip, his eyes glazed over as he reached for her leg, attempting to reach her to the middle of the ring. Abby reversed it, kicking Magnus with her boot, kicking his hand away and getting to her feet. Abby stood to her feet slowly before reaching to land an STO, only to fail and for Chistum to reverse it with a reverse STO of his own, slamming her on the mat.

Furor taunts the crowd, listening to their jeers and boos with a sick and twisted half-grin across his face before dropping to his knees and reaching for the pin.

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson : Christum's gonna kill you... Christum's gonna kill you...

With that chant, a small chant goes out for a few moments, repeating the words Seth spoke, the G&M loyalists going along with the words over and over. Christum's eyes dart to the referee, yelling and belittling him before suddenly getting put in a rollup by Abby Park to everyone's surprise!

ONE!



TWO!



KICKOUT!

Christum's eyes open in shock, he wasn't expecting that rollup whatsoever. He pushes Abby off him and gets to his feet quickly, landing a devastating Magnus Driver on Abby Park! As she lands on the mat, Furor prepares himself, readying himself for his finisher. Just as Abby Park gets to her feet...

Seth Ericson: HAMMER OF DAWN! HE HOOKS THE LEG!

ONE!


TWO!






THREE! "The Quiet Place" starts again, and the crowd jeers as Abby lays in the ring, frustrated and beaten and Gunner gets to his feet, victorious.

WINNER: MAGNUS GUNNER

Dick Morosi: I hate to say it, but there may not be a person left to face the World Champion at Absent Are the Saints if this keeps up.

Seth Ericson: Christum Furor is on a one man rampage...someone's got to stop him.

Dick Morosi: Folks, I've just been told over my headset we've got a special video package. The first confirmed competitor for The Crucible has just been announced...and here he is. Let's watch the tape.

Ever have that moment when everything you know is ripped away from you?

Flash back to December 2, ExPro on FX #7. Dan Stein is walking up the ramp, celebrating the fact that he just earned a spot in the Honor Cup. Jerry Matthews appears from behind the curtains with a steel chair, and swings it back… the camera freezes just before contact is made.

The extreme test of resilience. You’ve been doing this for all of your adult life, and in an instance, it’s over.

The footage switches to the shot of the hospital room where a group of doctors are standing around an operating table. Dan Stein lays on his stomach, connected to all of the necessary tubes.

Surgery. Rehabilitation. Pain. Bruising. The weaker minds would give up and call it a career.

Again the footage switches, this time to Dan Stein doing leg extensions while strapped to a resistance cord, then transitions in further footage of Stein rehabilitating the leg.

Not Dan Stein. Not the Golden Boy. Nothing will keep Dan Stein away from the ring.

Footage of Dan Stein training in a local gym, rolling and sparring with blurred faces and bigger bodies.

Five months of rehab, dedicating his life to getting better physically, mentally… All for this moment, this one opportunity to regain what was taken from him.

The camera now opens up on Dan Stein, standing in the backstage area of the RIMAC Arena, wearing a baby blue EXPRO t-shirt. Stein stands alone, with a giant grin on his face.

Dan Stein: Tell everyone in the back: Dan Stein’s going to be in The Crucible. Tap out or feet out, they’re all going to experience the same thing.

Stein smirks and walks past the camera.

Dan Stein: Lights Out.

Cut to commercial.

We cut to the backstage area after commercial where we find Jon Collins' office. The EXODUS Pro Director of Operations doesn’t seem to be anywhere to be found however, but instead we find the office does have one occupant, a very nervous looking EXODUS Pro International Champion, Lexy Chapel. She’s standing in the office with the EXODUS Pro international Championship belt across her shoulder; although we see her adjusting it frequently as due to her small size and the size of the belt it doesn’t seem to stay in place naturally. She’s also dressed to compete, but with one addition – a shirt with the word ‘#TEAMCOLLINS’ written across the front. The sound of the fans cheering can be heard from inside the arena but Lexy doesn’t seem to notice it, instead shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the office, seemingly waiting.

Lexy Chapel: Ok, so... starting to think I read the message wrong. I swear he said to meet him here to talk about the match...

The young star of the Chapel Show shifts again awkwardly from foot to foot before walking closer to his desk, skimming over the paperwork on the desk before shaking her head and turning some of it over, as though she’s afraid to see something that she shouldn’t. She then looks up nervously toward the door. It’s very obvious that she’s clearly out of her element and extremely on edge, but then that seems to have been the case in all dealings she’s had so far with the Director of EXODUS. After turning the paperwork over we see her spin his chair around nervously before looking around again and taking a seat in it, kicking off the table and spinning around multiple times with an immature look on her face before stopping herself and shaking her head slowly.

Lexy Chapel: C’mon Lexy, get it together girl. This is a big night, and I know you’re nervous but that’s no reason to act like a complete idiot. I mean think about it for a moment, you’re not a ten year old fan anymore, are you? Jon’s not just some guy you admire on TV. He’s not just some guy whose posters you have on your wall. He’s... my tag team partner tonight. Oh god, that’s ACTUALLY happening tonight... I’m really teaming with Jon Collins TONIGHT!

It’s hard to tell if talking to herself is making her more nervous or more excited, or perhaps a combination of the two. She shakes her head though, trying to hold it together, and takes the International title off her shoulder and puts it down on the desk in front of her, and that’s when something seems to catch her eye. She gets up from the chair and walks slowly over to the wall, reaching up toward a jacket hanging on the wall. She slowly pulls it down and looks at it in amazement.

Lexy Chapel: Oh my god, this is really his...

She stares at it in astonishment like a completely smitten fan before lifting it up and smelling it, and then looking at it like she’s wondering why she actually did that.

Lexy Chapel: Ok, what the hell is wrong with me! Oh god, what would Jon say if he could see you right now Lexy? Well, first off he’d probably laugh at you. But then again, I know what he would say...

She smirks to herself as she slips the jacket on and turns toward the mirror in the office, looking in to it and brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. The expression on her face changes, as though she’s trying her best to impersonate the Saint of Violence, and she clears her throat and speaks not in her normal British accent but in her best Jon Collins impression.

Lexy Chapel: Lights out, end of f’n story!

She smirks at her own impression before adjusting the jacket and trying to act tough in front of the mirror. She quickly grabs the International Championship off the table and puts it over her shoulder, adjusting it several times until she’s happy and then looking in to the mirror again, continuing her Collins impressions.

Lexy Chapel: I don’t have bad things to say about Wulf or Steve. I love the guys, they’ve stood up for EXODUS so many times. But they should know I’m not messing around. I’m Jonathan Collins and I am professional wrestling!

She smiles to herself happily before adjusting the title on her shoulder again and trying another classic line.

Lexy Chapel: Falling from heaven isn’t as painful as surviving the impact!

She adjusts the International title on her shoulder again, continuing to look in to the mirror. From the doorway though we hear another voice...

Jonathan Collins: Having fun?

Lexy literally screams and spins around before seeing him there and dropping the International title in shock before desperately trying to take the jacket off.

Lexy Chapel: Oh god, I was... err... you see you said to meet you here and you weren’t here and I... um...

She goes completely red in embarrassment and finally manages to get the jacket off before hanging it up and brushing it down, turning back to look at him without actually looking up at him, more staring at his feet, her face still completely red in embarrassment.

Lexy Chapel: I... um... sorry.

Jonathan Collins: You know, I don't know what it says about me that you basically summed up my career in about three or four statements, a jacket, and a belt. Kudos to you, Chapel.

The Director of EXODUS Pro laughs and comes over to ruffle her hair.

Jonathan Collins: You ready for tonight?

Lexy shakes her head, looking up at him again now almost upset.

Lexy Chapel: Oh no way, there’s way more to your career than a few catchphrases. I mean everything you’ve done, all the people you’ve inspired, all the opportunities you’ve given others... I wouldn’t even be here today if it wasn’t for you! You’re way more than just that jacket or a title or...

She trails off again before shifting, her embarrassment clearly returning.

Lexy Chapel: You know I didn’t come in here to touch your stuff or anything, right? And I didn’t look at anything on the table, I swear. I turned some of it over because it looked important and I didn’t want anyone to think I was snooping or anything. I’d never do that, not to you!

Jonathan Collins: It's fine, really. There are so many other things in life to be concerned about than what you did or didn't do, but that does remind me of something.

Collins goes to the desk and pulls out a manila folder, offering it to her.

Jonathan Collins: Champions should be paid like champions. This is your new contract, Lexy Chapel. Congratulations.

The young Brits eyes go wide in shock and she looks at the folder in disbelief.

Lexy Chapel: Wait, is that why you asked me to come here?

She looks at the folder before slowly opening it. Her eyes get even wider and she quickly closes the folder again and almost throws it back at him like it’s burning her hands.

Lexy Chapel: Whoa, no way! No, I can’t...

Jonathan Collins: Don't say you didn't earn it. That belt on your shoulder says otherwise.

Lexy Chapel: I didn’t! I haven’t! I...

She looks up at him, the nervousness she had before gone now and replaced with something else, almost fear. She reaches down to the ground and picks up the International title and looks at it for a long moment before looking up at him again.

Lexy Chapel: I didn’t earn anything, not really. I mean this title is just... Jerry Matthews almost killed me. Remember that? I tried to take it to him and he put me through a table and laid me out in the middle of the ring. And at the last show I tried taking it to Johnny Cannon and ok; I got a few lucky shots in but he... I mean if he hadn’t rolled out of the ring I don’t think I would have beaten him, not really. My parents worked their whole careers and neither of them ever really won much or... and they never got really super famous, well not in America anyway, and... I guess what I’m saying is that I’m still nobody, I’m still just a rookie, and... I don’t want charity. Not that I’m saying that you’re taking pity on me or... um... god, why is talking to you so hard?

Jonathan Collins: I understand your humility, and it's refreshing to me. Rookies these days want everything handed to them, and it sickens me. The reality is that you're a champion, and even if this contract doesn't mean you'll have swimming pools and fast cars, it means you won't have to work a second job. You'll be able to support yourself doing this, and isn't that what we've always wanted to do?

Without a second thought, Collins comes over and wraps his arms around the young girl, giving her a warm embrace before pulling away.

Jonathan Collins: Besides, I remember you cheering exceptionally loud once back in 2003 when I toured the UK. I think I took on someone like RJ Roken or someone and your parents had helped promote the show. So maybe it's a little bit of good karma.

She blushes again.

Lexy Chapel: You remember that? I know I do. That was the night that I told my brother that one day I was going to be just like you and he laughed at me. And now tonight I’m teaming with you. I mean... how crazy is that? I guess deep down I still feel like that. I still feel like I’m that little girl screaming for you to win, chanting your name, wearing your t-shirt. I just think that...

She looks at the title nervously before looking up at him and letting out a sigh.

Lexy Chapel: I mean, we do kind of need the money, with Nate’s medical bills and rent, and we wanted to move to California so I could be closer to here and... I promise you that I’ll earn it. I won’t let you down, I swear.

Jonathan Collins: Then you'll prove that to me when you defend the International Title at Absent Are the Saints against the only person I know that will test you.

She swallows hard and looks at the title again before looking up at him nervously.

Lexy Chapel: Ok...

She takes a deep breath before putting the title over her shoulder.

Lexy Chapel: Whoever it is, I’m ready!

Jonathan Collins: ...I'll see you at the iPPV. You'll be defending against me.

Her eyes go wide again and her mouth drops open. Collins just smiles at her and she stands there in complete shock for a moment before looking at him again and shaking her head.

Lexy Chapel: You’re kidding, right?

He just smirks at her and sits down behind his desk.

Lexy Chapel: You are kidding. Wait, you’re not kidding. I mean, are you kidding? You and me, one on one? Me against you? Me FIGHTING you? Me? Against you? One on one? No. Really? No! ...really?

Collins just grins again as we fade out with Lexy still looking astonished. We go back to Dick & Seth.

Dick Morosi: Looks like our International Champion is a big fan of The Saint of Violence.

Seth Ericson: Considering how far back she remembers him, I'm sure she remembers how great we were calling his matches against Pete Ebdon, Trevor Wrath, and even Ranma Saotome!

Dick Morosi: I really doubt she remembers us.

Seth Ericson: I really doubt she remembers you. It's hard to forget me.

Dick Morosi: Enough about that, we've got a match coming up! Cleon Gray's form of discipline continues in this, as Zack Lifer is forced to go up against DESTROY ALL HUMANS! in a tag team match, and it's next!

HANDICAP MATCH
ZACK LIFER vs. DESTROY ALL HUMANS!

The arena lights fade to black, and soon, the only light in the arena is that of cell phones, small pinpricks of light in the darkness. After a few moments, though, it becomes clear that there's a clustered concentration of them in the upper deck of the arena.

THAT, of course, only means one thing: the arrival of the band of demons and deities known as Gods & Monsters.

Moments later, the opening lyrics to the theme song of a cartoon from before the lifespans of most of those in the RIMAC begin to play, revealing to all just which Gods & Monsters are on their way to the squared circle.

UP FROM THE DEPTHS!
THIRTY STORIES HIGH!
BREATHING FIRE!
HIS HEAD IN THE SKY!
GODZILLA! GODZILLA! GODZILLA!

Before the lame ass part of the song about Godzuki can ruin the mood, the song suddenly shifts, slamming directly into the lyrics of Gods & Monsters' anthem, "Pulse of the Maggots."

I fight for the unconventional
My right, and its unconditional

From behind the curtain emerge three figures. Leading the way to the ring is Minoru Ishii, the twenty-year old translator of the beastly woman stomping to the ring behind him. She is, of course, Emi Watanabe, the so-called "Human Kaiju," dressed for battle in G&M t-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. Bringing up the rear is the anchor of the trio, one Ryuji Kamigawa, the "G&M" tattooed on his chest making his allegiance clear for all time.

I can only, be as real as i can
The disadvantage is
I never knew the plan

Minoru excepted, they seem to enjoy the hate, welcoming it with open arms while raising fists of solidarity to the upper deck of the RIMAC. With little fanfare, they march towards the squared circle, Ishii taking up his spot at ringside timidly.

David Zinkus: On their way to the ring at this time!

This isn't the way just to be a martyr
I can't, walk alone any longer
I fight, for the ones who can't fight
And if I lose, at least I tried

David Zinkus: Accompanied to the ring by translator Minoru Ishii, they represent GODS & MONSTERS! First, from Nagasaki, Japan, standing six feet, one inches tall, and weighing in at two-hundred nineteen pounds, she is the HUMAN KAIJU, WATANABE EMI! And her partner, from Osaka, Japan, standing six feet, five inches tall, and weighing three-hundred twelve pounds...THE GOD IN WHITE, KAMIGAWA RYUJI! Together, they are...DESTROY! ALL! HUUUUUUUUUUMANS!

Dick Morosi: Going into this match, all the build up Cleon Gray set up for us, it was already written in stone. This would be the end of Zack Lifer, this would be his time out that finally 'taught him a lesson.' Now? Well, after what we witnessed earlier, this new side of Lifer? I think this tag team is in the disadvantage.

Seth Ericson: I never would've thought the one man could ever be considered the favorite to win a handicap match against these two monsters of all people but I never thought I'd see what we saw earlier in the night either, did you?

Dick Morosi: Nobody did, Seth. But Lifer managed to single-handedly make Christum Furor smile, make him humble after the speech he made to save his trainee Rosalyn Darling. It was certainly surreal!

The monstrous duo stomp up the ring steps, settling back into their corner with broad, wicked grins on their faces.

We, we are the new diabolic
We, we are the bitter bucolic
If I have to give my life you can have it
We, we are the pulse of the maggots

As the song fades out, Kamigawa and Watanabe exchange a brief moment of strategy, before Ryuji steps out to the ring apron to allow Watanabe to start the contest.

Seth Ericson: Nonetheless, this match is sure to turn some heads. Everyone in EXODUS is watching to see if the 'hero' can defeat DESTORY ALL HUMANS after that performance.

A brief flash of silence passes through the arena suddenly as the stage is beamed on by gold and white lights, the bulbs dimming slightly. Heroic hues floated over the entryway, the ramp and of course the audience, audible cheers as they hear the words of "Alive in the Lights" by Memphis May Fire boom through the speakers signifying one man and one man only.


As the lights of gold and white beam down against the crowd, searching up the stairs and to the cheap seats, they notice a familiar silhouette. A pop from the fans resurfacing, signs of various positive remarks stretching across the ocean of 'Lifer Addicts' as well as a few anomaly signs that don't fit in with the others. Adorn in a tan colored vest with the white outline of his signature demented smiley face logo on the breast whilst a black undershirt with a collar and the sleeves rolled up stayed just underneath. Black slacks covered his legs to complete the attire, shiny and fresh black shoes on his feet for good measure. Making his way down the stairs, he high fives several people as he walks down the stairs, a silent all-knowing smirk etched across his face, his eyes fixated on the ring ahead.

David Zinkus: And their opponent, from Newark New Jersey and weighing in at 202 pounds... He is The New Iron Saint... ZACK LIFER!!!




Lifer's slow, methodical walking gives way to sprinting, his legs moving him towards the ring down the nearly endless row of stairs before he hops the leather barricade, a running jump that could only be considered impressive, a hint of confidence in the way he moved at a slowed down pace once more towards the steel steps. His eyes dart to the entrance way as he trudges up the few stairs, not looking away as he watches the curtain for just a couple seconds with an intense look in his eye as if in deep thought.

As he gets to the top of the steps, his eyes dart across the arena, stunned by the crowd reaction. The audience gets louder as he climbs the turnbuckle, lifting his right arm in triumph as a single golden colored firework shot diagonally on the stage regardless, the location of its starting point mirroring the top turnbuckle he resided on - Zack now already pacing the ring - as it screeched loudly. cutting across the arena air, another loud pop from the crowd.

Don't you care to see the difference I've made?

Dick Morosi: Zack Lifer, The New Iron Saint certainly showed us all the difference he's made, his actions definitely a game changer.

Seth Ericson: Focus on the upcoming match, Dick. It's sure to be one hell of a battle!

The camera zoomed out from the scene, Lifer hopped back to the apron and then hopping over the top rope effortlessly, his arms stretched out wide for just a moment as if to mock Gods & Monsters immediately after, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.with a literal bang, the firework shooting by swiftly in the background. His chocolate brown eyes searched the excited crowd, a smirk rising to his face once more. He looked confident, more confident than ever before heading to his corner, the sounds fading mid-lyric as he waits for the bell to finally ring.

DING DING DING!

The match begins with Ryuji taking the lead for his team, starting off a one on one battle between the two former Gods & Monsters allies as Emi watches from the apron. Lifer can only manage to smirk at his opponent, a mind game in its own right in the face of the fiery hatred Kamigawa shot back. Suddenly, without warning, Ryuji rushed the much smaller man, successfully landing a simple yet powerful clothesline. The God In White bounced off the ropes, ready to do the same after his opponent quickly made it to his feet if only to miss wildly from a well-timed sliding duck and a sharp kick to the back of the right shin, an unpredicted move to be sure. Ryuji's eyes quickly snapped back in Lifer's direction once again. Before another offensive maneuver is tried, Lifer quickly knocking him down with a exploder suplex, quickly taking advantage by grabbing the same leg in his hands, aggressively pulling it up and slamming it down against the mat with all his might.

Dick Morosi: Nice thinking by Lifer here, using his cunning and his speed to take Ryuji down, going for that right leg to slow Ryuji down even further.

Running towards the ropes, Lifer flew towards Kamigawa and landed a quick running senton, his opponent quickly getting back up there after, landing a heavy headbutt to the biggest thorn in Gods & Monsters to be sure, quickly transitioning to a powerful press slam lift, slamming him down with a Samoan drop like it were easy, a harsh legdrop thereafter. He raised his arms to the side, his head flipping back as he taunted the only way a Gods & Monsters member knew how, the crowd raining down relentless boos in his direction.

Seth Ericson: Ryuji in control again and this crowd won't stop giving him the attention that he deserves!

Dick Morosi: Looks like he's about to tag in his partner Watanabe. This can't end well!

And with that, Emi makes her way into the ring, face to face with a no longer prone Zack Lifer, a quick point to his head as if to taunt her intellence before Irish whipping her into his corner, a look his his eye as the gears in his head begin to turn. As she slumps to the ground, in a sitting position from the high sudden impact, Lifer runs her way for a harsh facewash to her cheek, the crowd going wild once again. As Emi falls to the ground, the former White Night makes his way for the top rope, falling atop Emi with a knee drop if only to see Emi roll away just before he could make impact, now on his knees, helpless to watch Emi stare his way with an intensity in her eyes.

Dick Morosi: This doesn't bode well for Lifer, he may be in trouble here!

Seth Ericson: Don't forget, DESTROY ALL HUMANS is a group not to be taken lightly and this proves it. He underestimated these monsters, toyed with their mind, and now he's gonna pay. I bet Cleon Gray's smiling his head off right about now!

With a clubbing forearm strike to his face, Emi revels in the boos, left and rights in his direction without any remorse whatsoever, enough to cause some serious damage to the average man. However, finally collecting himself, Lifer reaches up and grabs her forearm, his other hand punching Watanabe square in the face with an sharp uppercut. Getting to his feet, Lifer's thanked by a hand on his throat, Emi using her strength to choke the life out of him, pushing him towards the corner at an awkward angle of his back. With that, she retreats, landing another tag to Ryuji once again, stepping off the scene and letting the co-founder of Gods & Monsters prepare for a Champagne Call, running at his opponent for the corner-to-corner avalanche! Lifer falls to the mat once more, a quick addition to the offense from the fresh member of the team by lifting his head by his short hair, his eyes glazed over a bit before getting hit with a devastating headbutt to finish him off! Blood began to pour from his forehead, the liquid collecting on his forehead before his head smacked back down, Ryuji releasing his grip. With that, he goes for the pin.

ONE!

KICKOUT!!!

Dick Morosi: Say what you will about Lifer as a person but his resilience is second to none!

Seth Ericson: It's the blood, Dick. Now he's angry, motivated more than ever! This could be very, very bad for DESTROY ALL HUMANS. We've never seen a truly aggressive Lifer until these past few shows and it's something to watch for sure!

Lifer's eyes go wide, and he looks into Ryuji Kamigawa's eyes – no, deeper than that. As Kamigawa stoops to pick Zack up, Lifer retaliates with his OWN headbutt, a wild-eyed expression written all over his face. Kamigawa staggers back a handful of steps, and Lifer surges to his feet. Blood trickles down his head as he fearlessly lunges at the much larger Kamigawa.

THUNK!

Dick Morosi: Jesus Christ! Zack Lifer grabbed Kamigawa by the ears! Another headbutt!

THUNK!

Seth Ericson: Another one! Lifer's split open, but he doesn't give a good God damn!

THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!

Three more headbutts drop Ryuji Kamigawa down to one knee. The arena lets out a roar as blood continues to drip down Zack Lifer's head. He wipes it from his face and eyes, and promptly makes the hand into a fist, POUNDING away at the skull of the Monster in White, shot after shot until Kamigawa finally falls flat to his back from Lifer's incredible onslaught.

Dick Morosi: Five headbutts and furious fists from the New Iron Saint have put Ryuji Kamigawa on his back! Zack Lifer has gone mental!

Seth Ericson: He's a Goddamned berserker! He just literally fought a man much larger than him down to his knees, and then to the flat of his back! He looks like a Panzer in there! DESTROY ALL HUMANS is a great name, but that man in there right now may NOT be human!

Lifer backs up carefully, measuring the downed Ryuji. Kamigawa has Lifer's blood on his own face, in his own eyes, as he confusedly looks around, as if wondering the number of the truck that hit him.

By contrast, Zack is focused, and lets out a loud scream, and charges the slowly recovering Kamigawa – DRIVING his knee into Ryuji's skull!

Dick Morosi: FORCED SUICIDE! Lifer got all of it!

Zack immediately segues into a cover, cinching Kamigawa's leg deeply.

ONE!

TWO!

THR—NO! SAVE BY WATANABE!

Seth Ericson: That's the problem with the two on one handicap match! Lifer has Kamigawa dead to rights, but Watanabe's still there!

The official struggles in vain to get Watanabe out of the ring as she grabs Lifer by the hair. Pulling him to his feet, Watanabe crushes him with a pair of elbow strikes, then spins into a spinning backfist, sending Lifer loopy...

Dick Morosi: The E-M-I! But wait!

Watanabe grabs hold of Lifer's wrist, and pulls him in. With her free arm, she throws a vicious, rising elbow under the chin. It hits Lifer in the jaw, sending him spiraling to the canvas, the blood in his hair arcing and splattering on the canvas.

Seth Ericson: That's the AK-09! Good LORD, she just decimated Zack Lifer! Lifer's got to be out! He's got to be unconscious!

Shooting the official a dirty glare, Watanabe defiantly drags Ryuji Kamigawa's body on top of the downed Lifer. The official refuses to count until Emi leaves the ring, which she finally does, a satisfied smile on her face.

Dick Morosi: Gray's got to be smiling backstage! The numbers advantage is too much for the New Iron Saint!

Down the referee goes, to secure the match-ending three count.

ONE!

TW—KICKOUT!

Seth Ericson: Wait, WHAT?!

Indeed, the shoulder is up – at one and a half. Defiantly. Proudly. Ryuji Kamigawa is too loopy to recognize it – and on the apron, the Human Kaiju stares at Zack Lifer, uncomprehending, disbelieving.

Dick Morosi: Zack Lifer kicked out of the AK-07 BEFORE TWO! I don't know how, but he did it!

Seth Ericson: He's fighting out of his mind right now! He was UNCONSCIOUS before he hit the ground! He had to be!

Lifer slowly extricates himself from underneath the still unconscious Kamigawa. Rising to one knee, then his feet, he beckons Watanabe forward, into the ring. Her eyes are still wide, as if she's seen a ghost. Zack insists, rolling Kamigawa, even, over to the DAH corner, to make sure that she's within tagging range of her partner. Lifer even backs away, to permit Emi fair entrance to the ring.

Dick Morosi: This..is pretty Goddamned weird.

Seth Ericson: No arguments here, partner.

Watanabe-san looks trapped for a moment. Still, she swallows, hard, and reaches down to smack her partner's hand, registering the tag. Emi Watanabe looks as hesitant as she ever has as she steps into the ring to face down a bloodied and battered, but not unbowed, Zack Lifer.

Dick Morosi: Kamigawa is out, so for all intents and purposes, this is one-on-one for a while! Lifer has to finish Watanabe before the Monster in White recovers!

Lifer strides with purpose to center ring. Something resembling a fearless smile crosses his face. It takes Watanabe only a moment more to meet him. They stare one another down, silently, one Japanese woman and one American man. Her English is limited, but that doesn't seem to matter, as their lips don't even move.

Finally, she nods.

And he nods.

Seth Ericson: Um, what the Hell is going on?

Lifer throws the first strike by about a half second. Soon, Watanabe retaliates, throwing wild, looping right hands that all find their target, just as Lifer introduces Watanabe's face to a combination of elbows, forearms, and fists.

Dick Morosi: No technique! No pausing! They're just throwing BOMBS at each other!

Watanabe's head snaps back, just as she lands a straight left hand to Lifer's jaw. She lunges for a huge right uppercut that Lifer manages to tank on his chin, before retorting with a vicious right hook to the nose.

The shot lands right on the button, dropping Watanabe to the seat of her pants, almost in astonishment. Before she can react, Lifer THROWS himself down at her, CRUSHING her in the face with yet another elbow strike.

Seth Ericson: DEAD AIR! Lifer got it!

Zack manages to cover, crawling atop Emi and cinching the leg tight.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEE!!!

Dick Morosi: Lifer has done it! He's survived two on one against Destroy All Humans, and not just survived – he's THRIVED!

As the bell sounds, an exhausted but still pumped up Lifer raises his arms in the air, and the official moves to grab the wrist of Lifer.

David Zinkus: Your winner of this contest, ZACK LIFER!

Seth Ericson: Zack Lifer is proving more and more by the day that he's not a man to be trifled with! He can handle anything Cleon Gray can throw at him, and he may well be the gravest threat Gods & Monsters has ever seen!

WINNER: ZACK LIFER

Dick Morosi: Zack Lifer comes through with a huge victory here on EXPRO On FX!

Seth Ericson: How is Cleon Gray going to react to this?! After what happened earlier, this can't be good!

Dick Morosi: Take your moment, Lifer! Let's head backstage!

The Big L is pacing back and forth, the camera fixed on the other two of TROUBLE Wulf Erikksen and Stacey-X. Wulf and Stacey watch the massive bronze skin man pacing. Wulf and Stacey look at each other, Wulf looks like he’s gonna say something--

Steve Lenton: The Big L knows what you’re gonna say, you’re gonna say, “Why so tense? What’s up big guy, what’s got you so pumped up?!”

Wulf looks at Steve strangely and then looks at Stacey. Something tells the audience Steve took the words right out of his mouth. Wulf shrugs, he lets Steve finish.

Steve Lenton: The Big L’s pumped, because after three long, long weeks we’re BACK...in SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA!!!!

The fans can be heard cheering, Lenton smirks and nods his head. Wulf nods along and then goes to say something.

Steve Lenton: And The Big L knows what you’re gonna say, “It’s always good to be back in the place where we won the EXODUS Pro Wrestling Tag Team Championships!!”

Wulf pauses and now he looks like he’s getting scared, Stacey is looking on.

Stacey-X: ...Are you a wizard?

Wulf looks at Stacey with a quirked eyebrow, Steve’s head darts towards her confused, but shrugs it off, he’s on a roll.

Steve Lenton: But that’s not why, because SOON, SOON...Steve Lenton and The Big Bad Wulf himself go into that ring to face bossman Jonathan Collins and the red HOT, and I mean HOT...Lexy Chapel. He’s PUMPED, and he’s ready for this MATCH!!!

Wulf sees there’s an opening for something to say...Wulf looks at Stacey trying to get some reassurance that it’s OKAY to speak. Stacey waves him on to say something...ANYTHING…

Wulf Erikksen: ...I--

Steve Lenton: AND WULF ERIKKSEN IS READY...FOR THIS MATCH!!

Wulf places a hand over his face and rubs it down. Wulf blinks his eyes and shakes his head. He just stares at Lenton who seems to be so INTENT on speaking.

Steve Lenton: TONIGHT, Lexy and Jon are going to be in for one HELL of a match. Entertainment, action, drama, hell LAUGHS, all balled up into this one tag team match. TONIGHT, San Diego, California will see TROUBLE...WIN and they will see why we’re the tag team champions of the WORLD!!!

Steve looks at Wulf and looks like he’s expecting him to speak.

Steve Lenton: ...You gonna say something…?! Don’t leave me hangin’...!!

Wulf looks at Steve, rubs the bridge of his nose. He waves Steve to stand back. Steve gives Wulf the floor…

Wulf Erikksen: ...What the big guy said…

Wulf walks off, Steve looks on, Stacey shakes her head, leaving Steve high and dry.

Steve Lenton: What, The Big L gave ya a chance. C’mon guys, come back!!

Steve goes to follow them as the scene fades away and we go to commercial.