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You know which match I'm claiming. So give.

Edit: haha I forgot I'm logged in here it's the King.

We cut back to Dick and Seth, nodding to one another.

Seth Ericson: Heather Halliwell looks prepared...but...CHRISTIAN KANE IS BACK!

Dick Morosi: He sure is, and I'm stunned at what we've witnessed. Not only has Christian Kane made a VERY surprising return to EXODUS Pro, but Kane has basically turned the entire show on its ear! It needs to get back on track though, because it's time for our main event! It's been a long road for both Heather Halliwell and Fiona Rourke to get to this point, but tonight...only one of them leaves the RIMAC World Champion. Let's go to the ring for our Endgame main event!

The camera cuts to the ring, where David Zinkus stands in the center, holding the microphone.

David Zinkus: The following match is scheduled for one fall, and is your Main Event of the evening!

The PA system suddenly has a real slow strum of a guitar, followed by a few notes...



"Turn the Page" by Metallica continues to play as the lights immediately flash on in unison at the stage in a red, white, and blue color pattern as standing on the stage in a long trench and cowgirl hat is the challenger, Heather Halliwell!



Halliwell makes the long, slow walk down the aisle, slapping a few hands during the heavy part of the first verse, sighing as she realizes this could be the culmination of huge things. She looks up at the ring as she pats the apron, starting to step into the ring again, climbing the turnbuckle to salute the crown with the longhorn hand gesture.



Halliwell hops off the corner, looking around in awe and nerves as she waits for the champ.

Dick Morosi: There's a look of determination on the face of the challenger.

Seth Ericson: She's determined to wear that belt and hump the holy hell out of Christian Kane.

Dick Morosi: Will you stop?!

The lights start to darken again as the video screen hums to life, starting to show the road from the first show to now for Fiona Rourke.


It starts with her fighting off both Magnus Gunner and Omar Wise, using her old Expecto Patronum finisher to defeat Gunner and become the first International Champion.


Next comes a victory over Johnny Cannon and then a flash of the Shinigami used to pick up a victory over Abby Park in the Winter Road tournament.



Next comes her old "Last Star to the Left" piledriver to beat Daisuke Iwakuma, the multiple Shinigamis used to defeat Omar Wise for the Title, followed by her Expecto Patronum off a ladder to draw against Magnus Gunner.



Then the Yawarakai-Te to tap out Katherine Stryfe, the variation she used to turn away Magnus Gunner, along with shots of her starting to leave her locker room to step to the entrance.



Next are montages of each victory where she's held up the EXODUS Pro World Title. The first one, the third defense against Jerry Matthews, the shot of her staring down KJPW's best and brightest during her tour of Japan.



Slow motion shots of her Shinigami kick and her Expecto Patronum double rotation moonsault, all as she takes the step up to the entrance of the stage, and then over the PA system...



The tron suddenly goes off, as if it were a television shut off with the light and dot in the center. The whole arena is dark, no lights at all save for some glow sticks and phones lighting the way. And then...music. The knocking and synth notes that open "New Divide" by Linkin Park begin to play, and as soon as the drums kick in, purple and white lights start to flash with the beat. As soon as the beat drops, the lights explode again and crouched at the entrance way, just staring the ring down as a silhouette right now, is Fiona Rourke, with the EXODUS Pro World Title strapped around her waist!



As the chorus starts and the arena lights come back up, she stands up and flips the hood off her face as she yells to the skies to get the crowd energized! She starts to make her way down the small ramp, slapping a few hands. Seeing a young female fan at the bottom of the ramp holding up an "#UNBREAKABLE" sign, she goes over and touches foreheads with the young girl, whispering something to her before she removes a glow necklace from her neck and giving it to the fan. Fiona starts to climb into the ring, sliding across the apron on her knee as she hangs off the rope, looking out toward the crowd as she soaks in their cheers and applause! She stands on the apron quickly before grabbing the rope to slingshot herself in before landing on the canvas on one knee, dropping down with a hand touching the mat as she looks down, almost dropping down in a superhero like pose, suddenly getting pelted from around the arena with purple and white streamers! Fiona looks up to the crowd, almost overwhelmed at the reaction she's been given before she wipes her eyes, overcome with emotion! Fiona starts to nod her head to the beat of the song as she looks over at Heather knowingly before she climbs a turnbuckle and removes the title from around her waist, holding it up to the crowd as she uses her free hand to point to all of them in a salute, only to get more streamers from the crowd! Hopping down from the turnbuckle, she starts to unzipper her hoodie in preparation for the match.

Heather and Fiona stand in their respective corners - both superstars ooze with confidence and self-assurance in themselves and their capabilities. For Heather, if she had any jitters or nerves, she was hiding them well, appearing composed like the veteran she was. And this was indeed the biggest fight of her EXODUS career thus far; she was taking on the King of the Mountain, an EXODUS original, the champion that had overcome every challenge, and had quieted every skeptic. Fiona Rourke was just as focused - this of course was not her first rodeo. As stated, she had beaten everyone placed in front her. She'd slayed the monster Magnus Gunner, even defended the belt overseas, and had wins over some of the best in the world. Both of them knew what was at stake. They were two women in their primes, Main Eventing the final show before EXODUS goes on air on the FX Network. They were enthralled in the moment - a moment that would define both of them. The chirping around the venue suddenly comes to a hush as David Zinkus steps forward to begin the formal introductions.

EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Heather Halliwell (Challenger) vs. Fiona Rourke (Champion)

David Zinkus: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your ENDGAME Main Event, and is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit... and it is for the EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPIONSHP!

The crowd buzzes again at the announcement, meanwhile the challenger hooks her arms on the ropes and bounces on them a few times, both limbering and psyching herself up.

David Zinkus: In the corner to my left, the challenger... fighting out of Dallas, Texas, standing at five foot three inches tall, and weighing in tonight at one hundred and twenty-six pounds... she is HEATHER HALLIWELL!

Seth Ericson: I'll be the one to state the obvious Dick. This will either make or break her career here in EXODUS. Can she rise to the occasion under the brightest of lights. She's in the ring with the best in the world. Can she hang?

Dick Morosi: History is about to be written here by the Lone Star State's favorite daughter, and Portland, Oregon's pride and joy.

Heather nods as the crowd erupts, never taking her eyes off the Seraph or the championship that is draped across her shoulder.

David Zinkus: And from Portlandia, standing at five foot five inches tall, weighing in tonight at one hundred and thirty-five pounds... making her sixth defense of her title, she is the reigning, defending, EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPION.... The "Strong Style Seraph".... FIONA ROURKE!!!!

On cue Fiona hoists her championship into the air, a championship she has held with pride, a championship she has brought legitimacy to, a championship that is now recognized as one most prestigious titles in all of wrestling. She soaks in the cheers for a moment, staring Heather right in the eyes, neither woman backing down from the challenge that awaits them. Finally, she hands the belt to Brian Lowery, who exhibits it to the crowd four times before handing it to the nearby ring attendant. The two opponents then shake hands and back into their respective corners, awaiting the sound of the bell.

Seth Ericson: I'll say one thing, they're camouflaging their nerves better than I expected.

Dick Morosi: That's focus you see out there Dick. They're not nervous about anything. They know they belong here. Fiona's a fighting champion, Heathers ready to step into the limelight. That gives this match character, and the potential to be a great one on one contest. And it will be.

As the bell chimes thrice the two top female superstars in the company lock up in the middle of the ring, cranium resting on cranium, shoulder driven into shoulder as they push on one another in a battle for immediate leverage. Heather quickly lowers her stance, the lower center of gravity allowing her to coerce the defending champion across the ring until the Seraph is pressed against the ring cables. Lowery immediately steps in, calling for a clean break and giving the challenger an earful as he does so as he urges her to release Fiona. A clean break is generated, as Halliwell slowly backs up, nodding to herself, a confident expression on her Texan mug as she stares at Rourke, and if she had forgotten, it was just reconfirmed to that she was in store for the toughest match of her career. Her eyes wander around the arena as she begins to ponder - seemingly, possibly taken off her game mentally by the challenger's early aggression. As she continues to contemplate, she steps off the ropes and both competitors begin to circle around the ring. They finally get reacquainted in the center of the ring, once again locking in a collar and elbow tie - however this time Fiona takes the initiative, first dropping to a knee, before springing back to her feet and deftly maneuvering around her opponent and applying a hammerlock. The exhibition of her blinding quickness allows her to effectively subdue Double H who winces from the hold. Keeping her cool, Heather reaches back with her near arm and grapples the champion around the head. Having captured the Seraph by the cranium, she slides to the canvas, using the momentum to coerce Fiona off her feet and send her to the canvas in a forward somersault. Somewhat flustered by the brilliant counter, Rourke scrambles to her feet, and charges forward. The momentarily lapse in judgment gives Heather the perfect opening, as she leaps into the air and extends her legs - her protruding feet catching Fiona on the butt of her chin and sending her to the canvas in authoritative fashion.

Rourke slowly leans up off the canvas, her mind clouded by a wave of disorientation, all of which is created by Heather's textbook Dropkick, perhaps a move she perfected being friends with the Dropkick King himself, Adrien Cochrane. Continuing her attack, Halliwell grapples Fiona and lifts the Seraph to a vertical base, quickly holding her arm - both the lower and upper, and whipping the champion across the ring. Fiona charge across the ring and bounces off the ropes. Fleet of foot, the agile champion ducks under a Halliwell clothesline attempt, and ricochets off the ropes for a second time. Her physical nimbleness and magnificent athleticism is flourished once again, as she strafes to the back of her opponent, and encircles her arm around Heather's waist. Rourke drives her momentum to her rear, shifting her weight in a German Suplex attempt. The said attempt is thwarted by a shrewd, impeccable counter, a locking of ankles executed by the former International Champion - before Heather manages to slide a hand in front of her waist, disengaging Fiona's clasped hands to free herself. Having been liberated from the waistlock, she maneuvers her frame to the side of Fiona's body, and simultaneously seizes her by the arm. She quickly twists the aforementioned limb, applying a standard armbar, sending a surge of pain throughout the World Champion's appendage. Despite the wrenching of her joints, Rourke maintains her composure, denying Heather any psychological edge. Instead, she continues the chain of counters, as she rolls forward, effectively untwisting her arm before returning to a stand. With Heather's arm in her clutches, Rourke reels her in before bending and swinging her free arm, clobbering the Pretty Little Texan in the temple with a sickening forearm. Before her brainpan can assimilate the damage that's been sustained, Rourke follows up with a second forearm, this time with her right, turning Halliwell around in a dazed stupor. With haste, the champion hooks both of Heather's arms from the side, and places her palms flat against the Texan's upperback before lifting her into the air. She proceeds to fall backward, bridging her own back and arching her legs to slam the challenger into the canvas with a resounding thud.

Dick Morosi: Tiger Suplex! Fiona scores after they exchanged a series of artful counters.

Seth Ericson: An unbelievable start so far. And she's going for the pin!

"ONE"
"TWO"

Halliwell kicks out, and roll away. Both women reach a vertical base now, and Fiona immediately dodges a spinning kick. Double H tries to spin around with a Clothesline, attempting to use the element of surprise, but Fiona circumvents that move as well. The World Champion then emerges behind her foe, and applies a rear waistlock, then finally throws her adversary backward. The Featherweight's shoulders crash to the mat, and this time Fiona scores with the German Suplex, simply lifting her whole body up to apply another pin.

"ONE"
"TWO"

The Texan bucks out of the three-count, proving her mettle and resolve. She rolls onto her stomach to catch her breath, but is unable to as Fiona stays on the offense, quickly grabbing Heather by the arm and throwing a leg over it. Heather's arm is then driven up into the bottom of Fiona's thigh, and she locks in an Arm Bar in retaliation for the one she was forced to endure earlier in the match. Fortunately for Heather, the ropes are within reach, so she grasps the bottom of the three, forcing Brian Lowery to step in for a five count. After four painful seconds, the Seraph releases her adversary and backs up, as the official forces her to give Heather some distance. The challenger rises to her knees, clutching the arm that was just afflicted by the grueling submission. Once she has regained a state of full verticality, Fiona picks up right where she left off. She quickly belts her with a series of forearms, before dragging her to the nearest corner, and taking a hold of her arm. She attempts a Irish Whip, but Heather pivots and turns, pulling Fiona forward - only to stop her momentum in the middle of the ring and whip her back into the corner with tremendous force. The champion manages to stop her momentum before she can crash into the turnbuckle, and then delivers a back elbow to Heather who charges in, sending her adversary staggering back. Afterward, she climbs the top turnbuckle, proving to be a grave mistake as Heather charges toward the corner; she pushes the Portland native off her perch, sending the defending champion flying out of the ring, only to crash and burn on the padded floor below in a heap of sweat and possibly broken cartilage.

Seth Ericson: GODDAMN! She just folded up on the floor.

Dick Morosi: She went to the high rent district, and that risk blew up in her face. Heather is now in the driver's seat, and the champion is in a bad way.

As the fans look on with concern and amazement, Halliwell takes the opportunity to catch her breath before exiting the ring and stepping onto the apron. Lowery quickly steps forward, admonishing and chiding the challenger, demanding that she re-enter the ring. Heather pays him absolutely no attention, her focus solely locked on the commotion beneath her. The said commotion is the sound of groaning and movement from the World Champion whom, begins to stir, albeit gingerly. Double H stares out into the masses, and waves her hands to rile them up, immediately gaining a chorus of cheers and chants for her effort.

"HEA-THER- HALL-I-WELL!"

"HEA-THER- HALL-I-WELL!"

"HEA-THER- HALL-I-WELL!"

As Fiona staggers to her feet, gingerly massaging her lower back, seemingly discombobulated, Heather runs along the edge of the apron before leaping into the air. In mid flight, she wraps her legs around the Seraph's head, effectively straddling her shoulders before leaning back and dragging the EXODUS World Champion off her feet. The momentum, coerces Rourke into a forward somersault, where she crashes violently into the barricade spine first - the force of which sends those nearby back in retreat. The maneuver brings the audience to a fever pitch, the high degree of excitement and enthrallment filling the RIMAC, all of which is induced by the challenger's devil-may-care approach to the match. She was leaving it all out in the ring. And as both competitors lie sprawled and inert, chests heaving rapidly, Lowery begins his ten count. The crowd continues to cheer, watching on intently as neither woman shows any immediate signs of life.

Dick Morosi: Headscissors Takedown that sends the champion into the guardrail! Innovative offense by the challenger who seems to be pulling out all the stops tonight!

Seth Ericson: And you've got to wonder if her strategy has at all changed after that fall Fiona took. If I were Heather, I'd focus on Rourke's lower back, which she seems be doing. That'll ground her and prevent any of those quick, high-flying moves she loves.

A veil of apprehensive astonishment falls over the audience as soon as they heard the deafening crack of the champion's spine against the guardrail. Murmurs begin to flutter about, but a majority of those in the capacity crowd remain in silence. Both competitors, appear to be bereft of life as they're sprawled out against the thin padding neighboring the ring. Lowery peers out at the two superstars, having already started his count.

"ONE!
TWO!"

The voice of the official seems even more massive within the realm of bitter muteness. The crowd remains taken aback, the two combatants before them yet to display any alertness or signs of life. Just as the official signals for the third fragment of the imperative count, Halliwell begins to stir, begins to show signs of humanity. Her upper projections feel around, examining the battleground she finds herself confined in but only with her sense of touch.

"THREE!"
"FOUR!"

The development brings more joy to the EXODUS faithful, as the challenger evaluates her whereabouts. The former International champ creates a firm clasp across the steel bars which support the squared circle's frame through the ring's skirt, and sues the low-level scaffolding as a provision to assist her to returning to a stand. Now able to stand without the aide of the ring, the Pretty Little Texan no longer needs her sense of touch to evaluate the situation. Albeit her head still aches from the minor-suicide offense she just exhibited, her eyes and ears are not attentive and are better poised to benefit her decision making as the bout continues.

"FIVE!"
"SIX!"

The challenger take several steps forward, not faltering as she nears her adversary; Fiona Rourke was bent on her right knee, torso heaving as she took slow breaths, doing her best job to regain the wind which was knocked out of her and replenish the substantial amount of energy that she had already exerted. The Texan wraps her right arm under Fiona's left bicep, and her left arm crosses the champion's collarbone as Halliwell's fingers create a tight bond near the left pec. With the hold locked tight around the Seraph's head and left appendage, the challenger drags her foe to a vertical base, immediately dragging her toward the squared circle, quickly rolling her into the ring.

"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"

Following immediately after, Halliwell knees up onto the apron and makes her way to the corner, making the ref's ten-count null and void with a quick and definitive cancellation. Considering Fiona was still sluggish and at a stand-still as far as her limb's mobility went, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for the Texan to take a high risk maneuver. Finally at the top turnbuckle, staring over the masses and down at the champion, Halliwell waits for the opportune moment to strike. The Strong Style Seraph slowly begins to climb to her feet, prompting the challenger to stand tall, raising her hands into the air to bring the audience to their feet - if they weren't already standing. She suddenly leaps off the top rope, extending her legs over the head of the Oregon native. She plummets down, and to Fiona, her near three hundred and thirty pound frame feeling like the weight of the world is crashing down upon her. Ultimately, she crumbles beneath the said mass, as her face is driven into the canvas from the successful aerial maneuver.

Dick Morosi: The top rope Leg Drop connects! That could be all she needs for the win Seth.

Seth Ericson: Listen to the crowd Dick, they know a changing of the guard could be a mere three seconds away! Here's the cover.

"ONE!"
"TWO!"

The tenacious champion writhes her shoulder off the canvas, causing a pandemonium of noise in the RIMAC arena as the spectators react with gasps and cheers, almost as perturbed as the challenger who climbs to her knees. The challenger seethes in slight frustration, meanwhile her fingers run through her sweaty blond strands of hair. She gradually climbs back to a vertical base, able to regain her composure in time to continue her onslaught. She grabs Fiona around the head, lifting the champion to a seated position. She quickly rears back her leg before swinging it forward, her knee stabbing the Seraph in the lower back with a paralyzing force. As she winces, her bodiy tightens, the shockwaves of the vile strike traveling throughout her small body. With competitive intensity driving her, Halliwell connects with a vile kick across Rourke's upperback - the effects of the sickening blow are felt all the way in her chest, as she squirms and yelps in agony on the sweat stained canvas. The relentless Texan keeps her eyes casted on her opponent, while Fiona retreats in the corner. With the assistance of the ropes on either side of her, the Seraph pulls herself to a vertical base; her chest is still rising and falling rapidly, and her back is still strained and afflicted with a searing pain from the damage it's endured. Her standing, her show of defiance and will earns both respect and scorn from the Pretty Little Texan, who rushes in with reckless abandon. Rourke stares down the incoming assailant, and finally, somehow manages to find enough wherewithal, and muster enough strength to escape her predicament. She maneuvers out of the corner, circumventing Heather's charge, leaving the challenger violently impinging the turnbuckle with her chest, causing a slight shifting of the ring's position as she slowly staggers out of the corner clutching her sternum.

As Heather drops to a knee, Fiona makes her way out of the ring, slowly and lethargically beginning to ascend the top rope. With each step she hisses through her clenched teeth and tightened jaw, as every movement is dealt with in tremendous agony. Her pace gives Halliwell a second wind, and more importantly, an opportunity to pursue her. She climbs onto the bottom turnbuckle and quickly strikes the Seraph with a staggering blow to the jaw - one of which that nearly sends Fiona flying off the top for the second time in the match. Despite every fiber in her being screaming at her to give up, Fiona refuses. She repeatedly blasts the challenger in the mug with forearms and elbow shots, until finally, a DEVASTATING, BLISTERING forearm stops Heather in her tracks and serves as a precursor to her inevitable plight. With haste, Fiona traps Halliwell in a front facelock, before leaping of the top rope and swinging down to the ring, dragging Double H off the turnbuckle and pulling her down head first. The collision of head being spiked into the unforgiving canvas reverberates throughout the venue, as both polarizing superstars land with a resounding thud. Heather immediately goes spread-eagle upon landing, contrary to the champion, whom rolls into the center of the ring from the bone-crunching meeting with the canvas. The crowd once again becomes vociferous, as the bedlam comes in the form of a unanimous chant.

"THIS- IS- AWESOME!"

"THIS- IS- AWESOME!"

"THIS- IS- AWESOME!"

Seth Ericson: TORNADO DDT! That was insane. I can't even hear myself think, the crowd is so damn loud Dick do you hear them?

Dick Morosi: I hear them loud and clear. They're witnessing two of the best in the business exhaust their repertoires, and even themselves to hold the most important prize in this company. This is EXODUS Wrestling at it's finest. This is the vision Rufus Frost had when he came to Jonathan Collins! What a match!

Unable to go for the cover, Fiona slowly pulls herself up using the ropes as leverage before staggering into the far corner. She locks her eyes on Halliwell, and soon it becomes clear to her that this is the perfect opportunity to put the match away. As the battered, enfeebled challenger climbs to a vertical base, the champion moves out of the corner before seizing the Texan by the near arm. She turns away and reaches behind her, looking ready to go for the Rei-Gun. Dismaying the champion, Halliwell maneuvers her head to refuge, sliding out of the facelock before trapping Fiona in a waistlock and forcing her momentum forward. Rourke quickly grasps the ropes as Heather pulls back, sending her rolling back toward the center of the ring. The Seraph turns, coiled and ready to strike. The vibrations from the fan's rhythmic beating alerts the challenger, and as she climbs up from a knee, she sees the incoming locomotive. Fiona bends slightly, but Halliwell sidesteps, clutching Fiona's flailing arm and pulling her to the ground with it. Tucking arm between her legs, she clasps her hands around the champ's face - then proceeds to wrench her head back.

Dick Morosi: The Crossface is locked in! Fiona's flailing her arms around, trying to drag both their bodies to the ropes!

Seth Ericson: She's going to tap. There's no way she can last long enough to get there, considering the pain she's already in.

Dick Morosi: I won't count her out. She's overcome every challenge. She's got the heart of a champion burning within her. She can make it!

Seth Ericson: They've been at this for twenty minutes Dick. There's no way she's got enough juice left in the tank!

A multitude of voices encourages the champion,, all blending into one jumbled, unanimous roar as she claws her way, seemingly centimeter-by-centimeter, wholeheartedly refusing to tap out. Heather, emboldened by the resistance, continues to crank the hold as tightly as she can. Suddenly, the Texan's hair is grabbed and the other hand of the Seraph reaches up to deliver a blind blow to the jaw, a luck shot in the dark so to speak. Fiona quickly moves her hands toward those of her aggressor, proceeding and succeeding in pushing the Crossface off her visage for a moment. She kicks a leg back, her foot hitting Heather in the knee and knocking it out from under her. The World Champion is able to slip out, doing so and then quickly clawing her way on top of the Texan's back before wrapping her arms around the challenger's midsection. She begins pulling her opponent to a vertical base, and when both females reach their feet, Heather fires back with a series of well placed elbows to break the waistlock, sending Fiona staggering back in response. Halliwell turns, and quickly charges with a Clothesine - but Fiona ducks, dashes for the ropes and performs a handstand right into them. She uses the momentum to throw her legs against the ropes, and the flexibility of the cables sends her back onto her feet, where she exploits the momentum to spin, leap, and turn, swinging in a semi-circular motion. Her boot violently clashes against the skull of the turning Heather Halliwell - and as the sound of her cranium being smashed echoes through the arena, she is immediately knocked flat on her back. The electricity in the venue is tenfold, as Fiona stares up at the rafters, meanwhile the challenger's frame remains motionless, rendered inert from having her head nearly kicked off her shoulders.

Dick Morosi: SHINIGAMI! SHINIGAMI! SHINIGAMI OUT OF NOWHERE!

Seth Ericson: She got all of that! I mean, every bit of it! Heather's brains could be oozing out of her ears any second now.... that's all she wrote!

With her muscles stiffening, and sweat blurring her vision, Fiona slowly turns onto her chest, before lifting up on all fours. With every ounce of strength left she begins to crawl toward the downed Texan. Fiona crawls a short distance in the eyes of the crowd, but what seems to be an eternity for the Strong Style Seraph. She collapses into the canvas, staring one eye at her destination while the other is closed by virtue of the fact that one side of her sweaty mug is smushed into the mat. Rourke takes a deep breath, and forces herself to all fours once again, crawling just enough to lunge onto her fallen adversary. She limply hooks Heather's leg, Brian Lowery quickly sliding to the canvas and slapping his hand across the mat. As various members of the audience continue to cheer synchronically, other members chant along.

"ONE............."

"TWO............................................................................."

Driven by a cocktail of instinct and a refusal to die, a refusal to be denied, the challenger throws a shoulder up. The crowd immediately rises to its feet in a shower of cheers. Fiona simply rolls onto her back with eyes wide open in disbelief and frustration. Meanwhile the crowd cheers their favorite competitor, looking to will one of them to the most important victory in their respective careers.

"HEA-THER- HALL-I-WELL!"

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

FI-ONA- ROURKE!"

"HEA-THER- HALL-I-WELL!"

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

FI-ONA- ROURKE!"

Dick Morosi: I CAN'T BEIEVE SHE KICKED OUT! IMPOSSIBLE!"

Seth Ericson: She's the first superstar to ever do so! And look at Fiona. No matter what she's thrown at her, Heather refuses to quit, refuses to lose, refuses to give up! And though she's obviously dismayed, she now knows what it feels like to be on this end of the spectrum.

Dick Morosi: It's pride Seth. It's knowing that you're fighting for the most prestigious championship in this company. It's knowing the entire world is watching! It's knowing you've worked your entire life for a moment like this. That's the force that's kept driving both these women! What a match!

Seth Ericson: I still can't believe she kicked out of the Shinigam Dick! Nobody has done that. And it begs the question, what does Fiona have to do to leave with the championship?

Fiona climbs up onto her knees, running fingers through her blond hair, visibly exasperated, visibly frustrated, lips trembling to convey these emotions. The boiling and seething comes to a sudden cease, as the World Champion suppresses her anger, and clears her mind, if only momentarily. With a specific vision and goal in mind, she nods her head before pushing herself up to a vertical base and stumbling toward the ropes. With Heather stirring in the center of the ring, the Pretty Little Texan leans against the top rope with her arm dangling outside of the ring. She stomps on the mat, inviting the crowd to do so. As they follow suit, Fiona blinks frequently in an effort to get the sweat out of her eyes, breathing heavily at the same time - two mannerisms making her look like she'd gone off the deep end. But she didn't. She was going to that second gear, digging into that reserve for the last bit of energy, finding that last bit of will power that she's used time and time again to put down her opponents. Appearing to be on her last legs, Halliwell struggles to her feet, finally getting up with one last bit of strength, and turns toward Fiona. The Strong Style Seraph has already begun charging. The Oregon native quickly scores with a THUNDEROUS elbow smash to the face....

Dick Morosi: Here we go... CLEAR EYES!

Followed by a palm strike to the chest that buckles Heather's knees...

Seth Erickson: FULL HEART!

Leaping into the air, Fiona juts out her legs, but Heather manages to counter, channeling a second wind from deep within. With new gas in the tank she captures Fiona's legs, slamming her into the canvas before quickly turning the Seraph onto her belly. Upon stepping over and sitting down, the former International Champion pulls back, Fiona's back arches more and more, stressing the spinal column and making the champion yelp at the top of her lungs in search of some assistance or another Houdini-like escape from her current state of anguish and distress.

Morosi & Ericson: SOUTHERN COMFORT!

With the crowd cheering and watching intently, the Seraph pushes her body off the canvas, positioning herself so that the ropes now lay just out of reach. She reaches out, the tips of her appendages rub against the ring cables, but in that moment, Heather pulls her right back, sitting down further to wrench on the spinal chord and column again and again. Fiona, crumbled beneath Heather Haliwell's frame, reaches out once more in a desperate attempt to grab the ropes - but salvation is too far away. And without another moment to waste, the fight had finally been forced out of her as her hand frantically slaps the mat three times, the challenger releasing her hold in a triumphant response.

"DING! DING! DING!"

Lying on the canvas in delirium, too weary to even soak in the moment, Heather gathers her thoughts as they slowly come together, the ringing of the bell merely another bit of noise and racket in the background that she hears, muffled and drowned out by the fanfare currently exhibited by those in attendance.

Dick Morosi: It's over! She's done it! Heather Halliwell is your new World Champion!

David Zinkus: Here is your winner... and the NEW EXODUS PRO WORLD CHAMPION.... HEATHER HALLIWELL!

The Texan's arm is lowered and a timely bit of composure returns to her lower body. She walks to the first ring post she sees, and climbs onto the second rope, then lifts her newly won championship into the air with both hands to the cheers of the E-Pro lifeblood.

Dick Morosi: What a hard fought classic between two friends, two friends who respect the hell out of each other. I look on in amazement Seth. This is what it's all about. Heather Halliwell now carries the torch that Fiona Rourke has held with pride for so many months.

Seth Ericson: After everything she's achieved in her career, to be on top of the world tonight, here. she's done it, Dick! She is the new World Champion. This is her moment. She'll never forget this night.

As the final bell sounds and "This Life" by Curtis Stiger & The Forest Rangers plays, the announcement is made and the crowd goes wild, Heather rolls slowly off Fiona and lies face down on the mat for a few moments. She’s aching on every inch of her body, sweat is dripping from every orifice and she’s trembling from head to toe but only one thought keeps going through her mind. She did it. She finally made it to the top. As the thought reaches her brain for the third time she slams on the mat several times, bringing herself up to her knees. Now the crowd can see the tears in her eyes and the victory on her face. The referee comes over with the belt and hands it over to her. She takes it with shaking hands and stares down at it for a moment, admiring the shine.

The ref helps her get to her feet slowly and raises her hand in the air, much to the approval of the crowd. Even after the ref releases her arm, she continues to hold both arms up, right hand gripping the title belt tightly. She looks over to Fiona, who has gotten to her knees and is staring up at Heather. Heather stares back and for several long moments, no one is quite sure what’s going to happen between the two women. Fiona slowly makes it to her feet and walks over to Heather in the middle of the ring. She slowly offers up her hand, nodding towards it and quietly congratulating Heather.

Heather looks at Fiona’s hand, still clutching the belt as if for dear life. Finally, she hoists it over her shoulder and takes Fiona’s proffered hand, shaking it firmly. She pulls Fiona into her and the two women embrace, talking quietly for a moment. When they pull apart, Heather grabs Fiona’s arm and raises it high in the air.

Winner and new EXODUS Pro World Champion: Heather Halliwell

Dick Morosi: This concludes ENDGAME ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for sticking with us through the entirety of the evening, you just witnessed history. Heather Halliwell is the new champion, and it's time to set our course to the FX network, where we'll be moving to in two weeks. Until then, take care!

The EXODUS logo with some copyright info appears in the corner of the screen before the feed fades to black a bigger EXODUS Pro logo appearing then.

We cut back to a stunned Dick and Seth, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Seth Ericson: FX...they're letting those three go?

Dick Morosi: That coward! Edward Nair snuck in under their noses and took EXODUS Pro from Jonathan Collins! Is that why Rufus Frost hasn't been around?

Seth Ericson: How could Rufus do that to Jonathan Collins? He was grooming Jon to take over the company!

Dick Morosi: I just...I don't have an answer. I can't even begin to think and talk about it right now. We've got a match next involving two of the original stars of EXODUS Pro. These two have been at each other's throats in recent weeks, and only this grudge match can relieve some of that anger. It's Kliff Ulysses against Magnus Gunner...next!

Grudge Match
Kliff Ulysses vs. Magnus Gunner

The atmosphere of the RIMAC arena is tumultuous, as the teaming masses of humanity packing the venue have been treated to yet another night of excitement, drama and cut-throat competition. As ENDGAME rolls along, the enthusiasm of the audience remains lively, their buzzing at a vociferous volume in anticipation for the next bout in the evening.

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

The crowd begins clamoring as the lights around them suddenly begin to dim, the entire arena being engulfed and tentatively held captive by the pitch black darkness, until smoke billows up from the ramp and the spotlights from the rafters begin to shine down in a yellowish hue, of which "The Wall: In The Flesh" by Pink Floyd suddenly hits the P.A. system. As the tune reverberates through the sold out arena, the patrons are suddenly afflicted with an upsurge of emotion, cheering loudly, some chanting along with the first verse as a single silhouetted figure appears against the curtain.



Ulysses bursts through the curtains and stops at the top of the ramp, savoring the moment, his eyes spanning across the capacity crowd ever so slowly. He raises a fist and looks up into the limelight from where it descends onto him. He closes his eyes and brings his hand down, standing still for an instance, taking a deep breath. His eyes slowly pry themselves open and he gazes down to the squared circle before him, a huge smile plastered on his face. Confidently, the Ultimate Entertainer takes his first step onto the incline, basking in the ovation from the crowd as he walks down to the ring, blowing kisses at everyone in attendance and slapping hands with anyone lucky enough to be in the front row.



David Zinkus: Introducing first, from St. Paul, Minnesota, standing at six foot three, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-two pounds.... he is The Ultimate Entertainer... this is KLIFF.... ULYSSESSS!!!!

He rounds to the stairs, flying up the steps with brisk momentum before swinging through the ropes into the corner.

Dick Morosi: Kliff Ulysses looks as fired up as ever. He's ready for action... ready to put Magnus Gunner in his place and knock him down a few pegs.

Seth Ericson: But he's treating this like any other match. He's playing to the crowd, it's all a spectacle to him. Does he know the man set to meet him on the other side of that ring is NOT someone to be trifled with?

As his theme fades, and the lights return to their normal fixture, Ulysses stands in the middle of the ring, his face stern and his motions methodical, as he slowly and gingerly stretches. The confidence is radiating from the limbering Minnesotan; in front of him lies the tall task of defeating his former best-friend, in front of him lies the burden of having to bring his brother back to reality. He understood that what he was about to endure would be his greatest test yet, and will drain him physically and emotionally, but it was a necessary evil, to save the man that had gone astray. The lights suddenly dim down once again, and a quiet hush falls over the audience as the venue is now filled with a dark ambiance. Though it is nearly impossible seeing the crowd in the ominous darkness, you can tell that the atmosphere has drastically changed - as has their view as the feed suddenly flashes to a video, the scene showing a sugar cane field at the stroke of midnight - a plethora of bonfires burning and surrounding the field. The only signs of humanity are that of the sugar canes, so succulent and marvelous as a slow, progressive drumming is heard to further augment the foreboding scene - conveying the mood perfectly as a distorted voice is heard throughout the RIMAC arena, further captivating the spectators. The voice, calm and cryptic, seeps down their spines and resonates in their craniums.

"Everything you perceive to be reality is not true...
The foundation of THIS world is fragile and we must be the shepherds of our own civilization....
Understand that we are the architects of our own actions... we control what we allow ourselves to believe as the truth...
Everything that you've been told is a figment of your imagination....
Your heroes are not real.... They do not exist...
I am the only thing that's true..."

Dick Morosi: That just sent chills down my spine... what the hell was that?

Seth Ericson: It was a figment of your imagination Dick... weren't you listening... that didn't happen. I don't know what you're talking about!

With the suspense at a climax, "The Quiet Place" by In Flames rumbles onto the speakers, capturing the disposition and composure of the superstar behind the music. In the far outskirts of the arena stands the Loaded Pistol, fans flanking him as he stands above the wrestling crowd. With his black hair dampened and his head lying askew, fists taped and a steel chair clutched tightly in his right hand, Magnus Gunner rises his titled dome, his head snapping back and hair flying behind him as his cold-blooded, malevolent pupils stare out in the direction of the ring. As his steel equalizer is hoisted into the air, the crowd comes alive, the gesture receiving a mixed reaction from those in attendance, strikingly positive and loud, as the cheers seem to outmatch the boos and jeering. He remains still, a frozen glare is etched into his complexion, and he is draped in his usual aura of malevolence and self-assurance. His presence triggers David Zinkus to commence his introduction, raising his microphone to his lips, crying out the dynamics of the LEGION's eloquent madman. The aforementioned brawler descends from his pinnacle among the crowd, stepping down from his mountain and down the stairs, navigating through the arena floor, the patrons and the seats alike.

David Zinkus: And his opponent, 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" MAGNUS GUNNER!



As his name echoes throughout the RIMAC, Gunner continues his march through the crowd, hands grasping at his frame, many fists pumping into the atmosphere from support of the members of his fan base, which he doesn't acknowledge. His glare indicates such disregard as he continues his pace, coming up on the guardrail. As he reaches his destination, the callous Michigander comes to a stand still, his head slightly turning to the people behind him, finally acknowledging their existence. After that brief moment, the Loaded Pistol raises his arms in the crucifix pose as his body shies in the rays of spotlight coming down from the rafters. As his arms drop back down, he straddles over the barricade to the ringside area.

Seth Ericson: He looks ready to tear Kliff Ulysses a new one. After a month of mind games and tricks, he's going get to his hands on him.

Dick Morosi: The psychological warfare has all lead to this. Brother vs brother, friend vs friend, Gunner vs Ulysses!

"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"

Gunner knees up onto the apron, sliding his chair under the bottom rope and into the nearest corner. He comes to a stand, staring into the eyes of the man standing in the center of the ring. Gunner climbs in between the middle and top ropes, eyes remaining fixated on his former friend and nemesis. While the lights regain their normal fixture, the Loaded Pistol's complexion remains untouched as he awaits the start of the bell. The referee steps between the two combustible elements, preventing any pre-match scuffle before both men backpedal to their respective corners. As his theme for the night becomes a distant memory, the two competitors remain still for a moment before the official calls for the bell. Racing through each of their minds is a number of things, worriment, self-doubt, and a number of uncontrollable emotions. They however block out those distractions, lifting the black clouds from their minds and clearing their vision, knowing that their counterpart is in need of a victory, and that winning this match is the only thing that will make their lives seem whole again. And with that last ditch effort to clear their heads they quickly meet in the center of the ring, locking in a collar and elbow tie, struggling with one another, the two superstars looking to gain the initiative and the early advantage in what should be a historic match-up.

Dick Morosi: And now we're underway... a traditional lock up, but I expect this to become a drag em out brawl in no time.

Seth Ericson: As expected. This is no traditional fight. This is two guys who hate each other, regardless of what they may say to contradict those ill feelings.

The grappling suddenly ceases, as Ulysses fires with a brisk haymaker across Gunner's jaw, striking him on the point of his cheekbone; the Michigander's head violently snaps to the side in a whiplash fashion as his brainpan absorbs the damage from the punch. He recoils in retreat, only to have Kliff kick him in the breadbasket and effectively double him over - arms gathered over his belly, his chest expanding along with the feeling of hollowness in his midsection. The Minnesotan immediately applies a headlock, capturing his foe's head between the crook of his elbow and the side of his body. In an effort to escapes the headlock, Gunner shoots his elbow back, stabbing Kliff in the abdomen - loosening the former Humanoid Typhoon's grip. He follows up with a second and a third, efficacious in causing Ulysses to relinquish his hold, and more importantly, liberating his once trapped cranium. With Kliff momentarily stunned, Magnus deftly maneuvers in front of him, before blasting him in the chin with a STIFF European Uppercut, followed by a second, and then a third thunderous forearm shot that shifts the balance of the match into his favor.

Gunner quickly pushes him into the ropes; upon contact, the Loaded Pistol grasps his blond haired foe by the arm and whips him across the ring. Kliff dashes across the squared circle before ricocheting off the far cables. As Gunner leans forward, Kliff halts his momentum in time to blast him in the side of the head with a knee strike - Magnus straightens up, albeit dizzily. Ulysses follows up with quick kicks to the shin, to the knee, and finally to the midsection, before blasting Gunner in the face with a forearm shot that sends him staggering and falling through the ropes. The crowd buzzes as Kliff goes wild in the ring, waiting for Magnus to regain full verticality. In in the interim, Ulysses makes a bee-line for the ropes. He quickly leaps onto the cables, using their elasticity to springboard himself back toward his opponent. Kliff swings his leg through the electricity in the air, and the aforementioned limb strikes the Loaded Pistol in the cranium, as the clashing of boot and skull sends the Legionnaire flying off the apron. The Disaster Kick leaves him plummeting from the atmosphere, with the back of his neck and head landing awkwardly on the floor below.

Seth Erickson: I think I have Gunner's teeth in my lap. Good God what a kick!

Dick Morosi: Kliff is firing on all cylinders. He's come out swinging, and that was just one of the many tricks up his sleeve Seth.

Seth Ericson: But he's not wearing any sleeves Dick!

Dick Morosi: Leave it to you to take a figure of speech literally.

Ulysses stares at his sprawling foe; the Michigander begins to stir, his eyes flickering as they peel back, and he slowly begins to regain consciousness. Meanwhile, the Minnesotan begins scaling the top rope, pandering to the roaring crowd with utmost showmanship, like the ultimate daredevil and entertainer, being temerarious enough to attempt the high risk maneuver that he's contemplating so early on in the contest. His feet make contact with the top rope; it bends beneath the near two hundred and thirty pound mass that he calls a body, looking as though it might snap under the pressure. The ropes shoves back, the flexibility of the cable flinging him in the direction of his adversary. The audience begins to shout and scream, as the Ultimate Entertainer juts his legs out in a Missile Dropkick attempt. His body casts a shadow over Gunner's, alerting the Loaded Pistol of the impending danger, and with a split second reaction, Magnus evasively dives forward and avoids catastrophe. The woeful plight of Kliff Ulysses concludes with a violent collision with the announce table, as his body bounces off upon impact. The cracking of bone is overshadowed by the gunshot kindred bang of his flesh meeting the table. His frame collapses to the floor beside the dismayed announcers and the fans in the front row. He lies their, a former shell of himself, and in questionable physical condition while the crowd looks on with both apprehension and excitement.

Dick Morosi: HE MISSED!

Seth Ericson: He just pin-balled off our table. He might be dead!

With both men recuperating on the outside, the zebra-striped official has no choice but to start a ten-count, admonishing both superstars and urging them to bring the action back inside the squared hell.

"ONE"
"TWO"
"THREE"
"FOUR"

Gunner climbs to his knees, having recovered and regained his bearings, his eyes falling on the man lying motionless before him. Magnus lifts him to his feet, and thrusts his fingers into his throat, leaving Kliff wincing, before scoring with another European Uppercut that drops him to a knee.

"FIVE'
"SIX"


Like a true veteran, Magnus rolls back into the ring, and then slide back out, forcing the ref to restart the count. Gunner marches toward Ulysses, who fires with a knee strike to the gut, before attempting a front facelock, which is immediately thwarted as Magnus drives a forearm into his ribs. Having been released from the grapple, Magnus quickly leans him over before under-hooking both his arms and locking his head in place underneath his near arm. He finally flips Kliff into the air before thrusting him back down, slamming the Minnesotan head and shoulder first into the floor. The audience's general consensus is a chant of "Holy SH*T" while both combatants immediately become inert on the floor. The referee looks on from the ring, another ten count ensuing as the crowd remains ecstatic.

Dick Morosi: HE JUST BROKE HIM IN HALF!

Seth Ericson: Tiger Driver on the floor! That was sick. That was demented. That was Magnus Gunner AT HIS BEST!

"ONE"
"TWO"
"THREE'
"FOUR"

Now back to his feet, Gunner drags Kliff to a stand. Ulysses, despite the trauma to his head, comes to life and escapes the clutches of defeat and his vegetative state as he lifts his knee into Gunner's solar plexus. As the air sputters out of the Loaded Pistol's mouth, he connects with a SICKENING forearm shot that sends Magnus stumbling back until his momentum carries him inside the squared hell.

"FIVE"
"SIX"

The artful, well timed shot had shifted the match back into Kliff's favor. The confidence soon began to radiate from him as he kneed up onto the apron, and soon he found himself back in the driver's seat. However, it would be short lived, for as he stepped through the ropes, Gunner quickly climbed back to a vertical base, swinging his far leg in a semi-circular motion, blasting him in the side of the head. The kick left him suspended across the ropes, in a helpless, perilous predicament as the Loaded Pistol moved with haste. Trapping him in a front facelock, and dragging him forward so that his feet hang on the ropes, Gunner smiles a vindictive smirk, before pulling him off the cables and falling backward to plant him face first into the canvas with the Magnus Driver. Magnus quickly rolls him over and hooks his leg for the cover.

"ONE"
"TWO"


With a contortion of the body and raising of the shoulder, Ulysses is able to break the count. However, he isn't allowed to recuperate, as Gunner goes for the arm, looking to go for his Comfortably Numb submission. Knowing he has to act fast, Kliff rolls through, springing to his feet, quickly throwing a flurry of elbows into the face and chest of the kneeling Loaded Pistol. Gunner manages to get to a stand, and blasts him with a forearm that sends Ulysses staggering into the corner, gingerly holding his jaw that has taken the brunt of the Michigander's assault. With haste, Gunner charges the corner; looking to capitalize off of his foe's aggressiveness, Kliff fires out of the corner with a Clothesline attempt - which Magnus avoids, ducking the maneuver as he reaches the corner. Showing some athletic ability, he springs onto the top rope, before leaping back at Ulysses. Kliff sidesteps and captures one of the Loaded Pistol's flailing arms as his feet hits the ring, before effectively maneuvering behind him to capture the other arm and lock in the Full Nelson hold. Ulysses drags him into the center of the ring while Gunner winces from the pain - an agony that is nothing in comparison to what awaits him. The Ultimate Entertainer bridges his back, lifting Magnus overhead before thrusting him down to the mat head and neck first. With the madman's shoulders pinned to the canvas, Ulysses holds on for the count.

Dick Morosi: Dragon Suplex! What a counter. He dug down deep for that one.

"ONE"
"TWO!"

Seth Ericson: But it's not enough to keep the Loaded Pistol down! It's like trying to kill Michael Myers!

Gunner kicks out, rolling onto his chest, but Ulysses still has his arm captured. Kliff crawls to Gunner's head, and belts him in the cranium with a series of knees, each one more STIFF than it's predecessor.

*SMASH!*

*SMASH!*

*SMASH!*

*SMASH!*

*SMASH!*

With Magnus appearing incapacitated, the Minnesotan wraps his arm around Gunner's head and shoulder, clasping his hands together around the trapped arm before floating over into a bridge and pulling back to increase the pressure and maximize his opponent's suffering - the Loaded Pistol full tilt with cries and screams of agony.

Dick Morosi: THE LOTUS DREAM!

Seth Ericson: He's got nowhere to run. He's going to make him tap out!

As his breathing slows and his muscles grow weaker, and weaker with ache, a pain filled scowl manifests across the profile of the Loaded Pistol. The Triangle Choke, had done enough damage, but Gunner refused to allow this to be the way he would go out. No. He would not be submitted by his former friend, he would not succumb to the torturous hold. He swings his free palm to the mat, his fetish preferences not allowing him to be humiliated by a submission loss. Taking a deep breath, the LEGION's eloquent, yet psychotic madman locks his jaw into place, gritting his teeth together as he claws his way to the ring ropes. With one, magnificent effort, he clasps the ropes with his hand - breaking the hold! Kliff releases his rival. Chest heaving, Gunner rolls onto the canvas, and continues to do so as he gawks and gasps like a fish out of water, desperately attempting to regain some oxygen and normalize his breathing. However, he finds very little success, or at least it occurs at a slow pace. When he ceases, he finds himself on all fours, trying to formulate a methodical change of pace in his head. He turns to the right, and his immediate focus is on Kliff Ulysses' person, who is now rebounding off the ropes, lunging forward with an attack that will certainly put an end to the contest. With an extended arm, he knocks Gunner down to the canvas, just as he had climbed to a knee -striking him with an elbow to the cranium, the force of which reverberates throughout the RIMAC arena.

Dick Morosi: THE ANGEL ARM! He got it! What a shot!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but look at Gunner!

Instinctively, the disoriented Loaded Pistol slowly rolls out of the ring before Ulysses can pin him. Agony and agitation is the novel written on Kliff's face. In many ways, if one were to 'read' the showman's face, they could almost create a narrative akin to 'A Tale of Two Cities', for Ulysses expressed both triumph and suffering. He stared out in disbelief, as an overabundance of contrasting melancholies was found in him - now the inquisition across the board was whether or not his frustration would factor into the outcome of the highly competitive match. Knowing he can't allow himself to lose sight of things, he crawls out of the ring in pursuit of his opponent. With haste he lifts Gunner's wounded carcass to a vertical base, lifting his deadweight before slowly, almost struggling, to slide him into the squared circle. The ensuing struggle finally ends as Magnus rolls back into the squared hell, leaving a pool of sweat on each section of the mat his battered body touches. With an increased sense of urgency, Ulysses slides back into the ring, but again he's unable to go for the cover, as the Loaded Pistol crawls toward the corner. The Minnesotan immediately grabs at his ankle, desperately trying to drag him into the center of the squared hell, only to get kicked away in retaliation. Unbeknownst to Ulysses and the official, Gunner has gotten a hold of his steel chair, gripping it with malicious intent as he slowly pulls himself up in to a vertical base - albeit gingerly, looking like a strong gust of wind could take him off his feet.

Unknowing, a rising Kliff quickly charges into the corner, unable to prepare himself for what's about to occur. Gunner spins around in a sidestep, cocking the chair back overhead before the worst possible thing in the world could happen.

*CRACK!*

The steel instrument of destruction descends from it's apex over Gunner, and slices through the atmosphere to careen across the side and top of Kliff's crown with a resounding ruckus. The patrons gasp and groan, sympathizing for the victim, the man on the receiving end of a brutal shot from the most adept chair-swinger in professional wrestling. Magnus merely backs into the corner, somewhat slumping down as he sneers at his former brother's sprawling body.

*DING! DING! DING!

Seth Ericson: Woo-wee what a chairshot! He just beaned him with that thing. Ulysses is out cold Dick!

Dick Morosi: And he'll need medical attention. We can go down the list of men and women he's sent to the hospital with concussions. What a heinous, heartless display.

Seth Ericson: He isn't called the most dangerous man in the world with a chair in his hand for nothing.

Without a word, Magnus climbs out of the ring, content to leave his adversary motionless and unconscious. As the crowd looks on, stunned by what just transgressed, the Loaded Pistol heads to the back as trainers rush the ring to tend to the man formerly known as the Humanoid Typhoon.

Dick Morosi: Kliff Ulysses is going to win this match by disqualification, but I don't think he feels like a winner now.

Seth Ericson: You're probably right, but...just wow.

Dick Morosi: We need to head backstage while the crew sets up the second ring for War Games tonight. Let's see what's going on.

Winner: Kliff Ulysses

The door to locker room open wide and a young man steps in. Sylar Drake, visibly tired after his match, but satisfied, takes few slow steps towards a bench. Jonathan Collins happens to be sitting in the locker room, still shell shocked by the news earlier given to him from Edward Nair, but trying to focus on preparing for the most difficult match in the history of EXODUS Pro: War Games. Sylar swings the newly won championship over his right shoulder as he approaches his friend and mentor.

Sylar Drake: Getting ready?

Jonathan Collins: As ready as I can get, Sylar. All the joints creak in all the wrong places these days, it seems.

Jonathan laughs and scoots a little aside on the bench for Sylar to sit down and join him.

Jonathan Collins: Look at you there, though. Your new big gold belt and a lot of time to celebrate. You did good out there, Sylar. I’m real proud of you.

Drake, with his typical childish smirk, takes a good look at the belt before answering Jon.

Sylar Drake: Thank you, my friend. Being in this business for just five months, this...

He looks at the title again.

Sylar Drake: This is huge for me. But before we’re finally off to celebrate, before this event is over... I want you to know I’m watching your back, mate. Not only your, of course, just if anything happens in the War Games or afterwards that is not supposed to happen... I’ll be there to help.

Jonathan’s face has a fading smile as he turns around and looks at Sylar, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jonathan Collins: Sylar, I want you to listen to me. Tonight, I need you to just watch. Whatever happens out there, happens. I’ve spent years running from my fate. I’ve spent months trying to build a future for you, for Blake, and for everyone in EXODUS. Now tonight, I want you to trust me that nothing is going to happen. We’re going to end this tonight and win, and I promise you one thing, Sylar. One thing...

Jonathan stops, smiles, and holds up one finger.

Jonathan Collins: ...all will be well.

Drake presents a wide smile on his face.

Sylar Drake: That sentence... never sounded so true. I believe you, Jon. Good luck out there, my friend.

Jonathan once again pats the shoulder of Sylar before he gets up and nods.

Jonathan Collins: Don’t you worry. Everything is going to be just fine.

Jonathan walks off, starting to look more determined than he ever had.

The camera falls onto Zero McHannon pacing the backstage area with no one around him. He seems to be thinking hard about something and debating with himself under his breath. As the camera tries to get a little closer, Zero McHannon can be seen sitting on one of the boxes and shaking his head. You could see the freshly healed gash on his forehead starting to scar. He ran his fingers across it, trying to decide whether to cover it up or not.

Zero McHannon: Decisions, decisions...

He thought there wasn’t anyone near him, but he was wrong. Coming down the hallway was Adrien Cochrane, who sees Zero and stops in his tracks. Zero looks up, hand still on his wound, and returns the stare at Adrien. There is nothing but silence and tension. It was clear that it was just the two of them. Zero stands up the from the box as Adrien slowly makes his way down the hall.

Zero McHannon: You’re good. I’m not going to do anything.

Adrien Cochrane: You expect me to take your word for it? No offense but that’s not a very good track record.

Zero McHannon: What other choice do you really have?

Adrien Cochrane: Fair enough.

Zero keeps his arms crossed, watching Adrien make his way towards him. Adrien didn’t take his eyes of Zero, still hesitant on approaching. He watches as Zero leans against the wall, not showing any signs of wanting to harm Adrien.

Adrien Cochrane: I have a feeling you were waiting for me to come out of my locker room.

Zero McHannon: Nope...

Both men continue to stare at one another like it was a game of chess. All they were waiting for was the first move. Adrien makes sure to have his guard up and eyes fixated on any reaction Zero might make.

Zero McHannon: Calm down, Adrien. I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to do some thinking while I had the time. This War Games match means a lot to the both of us, I wouldn’t risk making this the best... Which means it needs you in it.

Adrien Cochrane: That it does.

Zero begins to size up Adrien, raising an eyebrow at him. He lowers his head, taking his eyes off the man he considered his enemy. Adrien could tell there was a lot of things running through Zero’s mind.

Adrien Cochrane: You alright, man?

That wasn’t something that was heard very often between the two of them. Adrien kept his distance as Zero looked up from his leaned position on the wall. He gave a shrug, but kept avoiding eye contact.

Zero McHannon: Meh. I don’t even know. I would like to say I am... There has been a lot on my mind lately, a lot I have been considering and trying to figure out. Let me ask you, Adrien... Who do YOU think I am? The type of person, that is.

Adrien Cochrane: I’ve touched upon this quite a bit, Zero. I’m not sure you are living your own life. You’ve been acting as the puppet for others. I don’t know who the real Zero is because I’m not sure I’ve met him yet.

Zero doesn't look to Adrien as he speaks, his eyes never leaving the floor. He lets out a sigh, looking up to the man he considered his enemy, and gives him a nod.

Zero McHannon: Well, I think it’s about time everyone learns who I am. Even if I can’t figure it all out myself, the time is coming. I’ve put you through a lot of hell, Adrien. I want to make that up to you some way. I think you deserve that much.

Adrien looks skeptical, not sure what to think.

Adrien Cochrane: I don’t know what to say. This was unexpected.

Zero McHannon: I’m not sure what to say myself, but I’ll find the words. I don’t think I’m the man I used to be, I’m tired of living that life. I have people around me that expect more from me than what I have been expressing. I think it’s time I make a few mistakes right again. Starting with... You.

He looks up to see Adrien’s eyes still fixated on him, trying to weigh the options of the situation. He was trying to decide whether Zero was having a change of heart or whether it was all another trick up his sleeve. Zero keeps his distance, making sure not to catch Adrien off guard with any sudden movements. Instead, he squints at Adrien, and bites his lip.

Zero McHannon: Listen, I don’t expect you to trust me overnight. Anyway... Good luck out there tonight. I plan for it to be a hell of a show. Knock ‘em dead, man. I know you will bring it.

Adrien stares as Zero turns around to walk away, completely stunned.

Adrien Cochrane: Good luck to you as well, man.

The scene cuts back to the arena after Adrien continues giving his stunned look. We cut back to Dick and Seth who seem caught off guard.

Dick Morosi: I'm not sure to make of what we just watched.

Seth Ericson: A lot of people seem to be reconsidering LEGION's practices. Magnus Gunner has seemed to question them as of late, but now we're hearing it from Zero McHannon of the White Nights. Do you think this could lead to the end of LEGION?

Dick Morosi: It's hard to say, but coming up next, we've got a huge San Diego Bay Title match for you! Jerry Matthews makes his V3 defense against Sylar Drake...now!

San Diego Bay Championship Match
Sylar Drake (Challenger) vs. Jerry Matthews (Champion)

David Zinkus: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPIONSHIP!!

The fans cheer in excitement for the first title match of the evening.

David Zinkus: FIRST, from Redemption, Alabama, weighing in at 275 pounds. He is the EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPION…THE EVANGLIST…JERRY MATTHEWS!!

As Josh Turner's "Long Black Train" begins to play, "The Evangelist" Jerry Matthews strides down the aisle in a suit and tie. In his hand, he carries a Bible and begins his regular sermon as he ventures down to the ring. His spiritual liaison, Deacon Jeremiah, accompanies him to ringside with an offering plate, ready to collect money from any believers in the crowd. As he gets to the ring, he climbs through the ropes and removes his suit. He then raises his Bible in a preachly manner to the crowd as they boo incessantly.

Dick Morosi: While you have to be a bit sickened by his tactics, he can’t deny that Jerry Matthews is one of the toughest men on this roster.

Seth Ericson: Indeed. Possibly will go down as one of our greatest San Diego Bay Champions.

David Zinkus: And his opponent!

Drums start to pound through the sound speakers with some synth noises. The drumming intro that starts the opening of "Anthem of the Lonely" by Nine Lashes starts to play as white and red colored lights start to flash around the entrance. Then suddenly...a huge flash of lights as standing at the entrance is Sylar Drake! The crowd erupts at the sight of the challenger before he starts making his way down the aisle, slapping a few hands!



David Zinkus: From Newcastle, England...weighing in at 185 pounds...HE IS SYLAR DRAKE!

Sylar starts to walk around ringside, slapping hands with some waiting fans as he looks up at Jerry and Deacon Jeremiah as he finally hops up to the apron and then to the top turnbuckle as the crowd cheers! Drake hops down from the turnbuckle, looking straight on at Jerry as the lights come back on and we start preparing for this match!

DING DING DING!

Matthews and Drake stare each other down for a few seconds as the anticipation of this match-up gets even more intense than ever before. Drake makes the first move, with Matthews countering whatever Drake was attempting into a drop toe hold.

Dick Morosi: Matthews is quicker than I thought. Probably would win a foot race with Drake but still impressive quickness and instinct.

Matthews keeps things going with a kick to the midsection of Sylar Drake. He whips Drake to the ropes, ducks a clothesline, but Sylar is able to bounce off the ropes again and get his first offense in with a crossbody. The fans give a small cheer for the English wrestler. Drake gets back on his feet and hits a dropkick on Matthews as he attempts to get up. He dashes to the top rope and hits a flying clothesline on Matthews as he gets up again. Drake with the cover.

ONE!!


TWO!!



THR…NO!

Seth Ericson: Not enough, Sylar!

Matthews is swift to his feet, but not as swift as Sylar Drake. The number one contender brings Jerry Matthews back to the mat with a headscissors takedown. Sylar bounces off the ropes once more and delivers a beautiful leg drop to make the fans go nuts.

Dick Morosi: Sylar Drake is in total control of this match right now.

Seth Ericson: For now.

After a spinning heel kick takes down the San Diego Bay Champion once more, Sylar Drake attempts another pinfall.

ONE!!


TWO!!


THR…NO!!

Dick Morosi: Another kickout by Jerry Matthews.

Seth Ericson: Sylar Drake doesn’t have what it takes to put Jerry Matthews away. It took an Adrien Cutter for Drake to get the pin in that tag match.

Dick Morosi: We’ll have to see about that.

Jerry Matthews is able to grab on to the leg of Sylar Drake as he was about to run against the ropes once more. Sylar Drake falls flat on the mat as Jerry Matthews begins stomping angrily at the young wrestler. After a few boos from the crowd, Jerry Matthews raises Drake back to his feet and thrusts his knee into his midsection. The Evangelist then throws Sylar into the corner and starts to throw lefts and rights until the referee counts to ten. The much larger Jerry Matthews then backs up a bit, charges, and crashes his 275 pound body into the 175 body of Sylar Drake. Sylar Drake collapses to the mat. Jerry Matthews pulls him to the center of the ring and hooks the leg for a pinfall.

ONE!!


TWO!!



THRE…NO!!

The fans cheer as they see Sylar Drake get his shoulder up. Matthews doesn’t seem as impressed as he once again guides the groggy Sylar Drake, this time to the side of the ring. The champ takes a shot at the chest of Drake, who is now hanging on the ropes. Another chest shot is followed by a third. Matthews backs up for a big boot to the face but SYLAR DRAKE DUCKS!!

Dick Morosi: And finally, Sylar Drake is back into this match!

Seth Ericson: Come on, Jerry!!

Jerry Matthews has his leg caught over the rope which gives Drake the perfect chance to dropkick the other leg. Matthews falls hard on his back. Drake bounces off the ropes for a senton. He tries to get a pin attempt out of it, but Matthews’s still had a leg on the rope. Drake hits a baseball slide on the Jerry Matthews when Deacon Jeremiah decides he’s seen enough and starts climbing the stairs. The referee immediately starts arguing with him.

Dick Morosi: Matthews is going to try to steal another on here! Come on!

Seth Ericson: He isn’t doing anything. The Deacon just wants a better view of his mentor’s triumph.

Dick Morosi: Wait…what is Matthews doing? HE HAS THE CHAMPIONSHIP BELT!

Matthews grabs the title belt, and slams it into the skull of Sylar Drake. He repeats the process for good measure. After Jerry Matthews quickly tosses the belt out of the ring, Jeremiah hops off the apron and returns to ringside.

Dick Morosi: I can’t believe this. He’s going to steal another one. I can’t believe he is going to screw Sylar Drake all over again.

Seth Ericson: All is fair in love and war.

The referee is back to the match and sees the downed Sylar Drake. After a bit of discussion with the referee about how Sylar Drake ended up knocked out, Matthews gets the cover.

Dick Morosi: I cannot believe I am seeing this. Totally disgusting.

ONE!


TWO!!



THREE!!

DING DING DING!

David Zinkus: Here is your winner and STILL the EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPION…JERRY MATTHEWS!!

As Jerry starts to celebrate and Deacon Jeremiah hands him back the San Diego Bay Title, their celebration is cut short as "Long Black Train" is interrupted by the sound of "Last Man Standing" by People In Planes and the crowd erupts as Jonathan Collins steps out! Considering his match later tonight, he happens to be in a t-shirt and some warm up pants, but he has a mic in his hand and he looks prepared to deliver some executive ruling to this.

Dick Morosi: In case anyone forgot, especially Jerry Matthews, Jonathan Collins is still the Director of EXODUS Pro.

Seth Ericson: I'm pretty sure Jerry forgot, considering how he's clutching that title and screaming at Collins.

Jon doesn't leave the ramp, but he takes a moment to soak in the applause before he grins and shrugs.

Jonathan Collins: Jerry...man, you got away with it again! You did it to Sylar at Desperate Times, and I mean...you and the Deacon are just getting good at cheating. Seriously, man!

The crowd laughs along with Jon as Jerry yells at him for the accusation.

Jonathan Collins: Well, you know what they say. The Lord giveth, and he also taketh away, Rev. So here's the deal. I'm "taking" that win, since you screwed Sylar, even if I'm not the Lord. Ref, do me a favor and restart this match, 'cause we got a show to get on with.

The referee looks at Jerry and calls for the bell as he starts screaming and shouting at the ref to not listen to Jon.

DING DING DING

He's still arguing as Sylar gets up and as soon as Jerry turns around after hearing the charge of Drake, he turns....RIGHT INTO THE INFINITY KICK! He quickly lifts up Jerry with all his might...STARLIGHT SPECIAL! He covers...

ONE!!

TWO!!






THREE!!

DING DING DING!

"Anthem of the Lonely" starts again, and Deacon Jeremiah is outside of the ring beside himself as the referee hands the title to Sylar Drake!

Winner and new San Diego Bay Champion: Sylar Drake

David Zinkus: Here is your winner AND THE NEW EXODUS PRO SAN DIEGO BAY CHAMPION, SYLAR DRAKE!!

Dick Morosi: Justice has been served!

Seth Ericson: I can't believe this! How could Jonathan Collins, our beloved leader, do this to Jerry Matthews? Jon's a great guy, but this is a massively wrong call to the Reverend!

Dick Morosi: He put an end to the preacher man's cheating ways and now we have a new San Diego Bay Champion! Let's go backstage while Sylar celebrates!

The scene fades in to Jonathan Collins, who seems to be warming up for the upcoming War Games match. A knock on the door is heard and Jon stops what he is doing as he looks at the door.

Jonathan Collins: Come in.

The door is heard opening and closing. In to view comes Blake Jones, the crowd cheering as they see the face of the young superstar. He does not seem to be in the greatest of moods, keeping a straight face while Jon has a friendly smile on his face.

Blake Jones: Hey, Jon.

Jonathan Collins: Hey yourself. You ready to finish this war tonight?

Blake nods before raising his right hand up and showing the camera the letters that are in that hand. Jon looks at the letter with a look of curiosity on his face.

Blake Jones: I need you to do me a favor, Jon.

Jonathan Collins: Anything.

Blake Jones: In case I don't make it out of War Games under my own power, I want you to give these letters to the people they are addressed to.

Jonathan shakes his head as he looks at Blake with a look of concern? That's what it seems like it anyways.

Jonathan Collins: You can't possibly be thinking that...

Blake Jones: I know that it's a unlikely thing, because I know we are winning, but if something happens to me, I need you to give these letters. Promise me!

Jon just stares down Blake before nodding his head slowly. Blake just gives little nod back.

Blake Jones: Thank you. I want you to send this one to Car-I...

Blake hands Jon a letter and Jon reluctantly takes it.

Blake Jones: This one to my brother and this one to my parents.

Blake hands Jon another two letters.

Blake Jones: And this one...this one I want you to read at the next show to the fans out there. Let them know how I exactly feel about them and how grateful I am for them.

Jon takes the final letter and lets out a sigh.

Jonathan Collins: You're coming out of there in one piece. I guarantee it.

Blake Jones: I might. I might not. Let's just say, I don't plan on going down without taking someone down with me. Now, I do have a question about a certain move...

Jonathan Collins: You still haven't got it down.

Blake Jones: Third time is the charm, huh?

Jonathan Collins: You better get it right this time...only I do that letter schtick.

Both men share a laugh and begin to speak with each other as the scene cuts elsewhere.

Personal Information

Name: Nate Mercier

Email: natemercier@hotmail.com

Previous E-Wrestling Experience: I have 8 years e-fedding experience in feds such as Extreme Pro Wrestling, Ultimate Underground Wrestling, Mayhem Wrestling Entertainment, and Carnage Wrestling with multiple word title reigns and multiple various title reigns in each. I was also fed head in Mayhem Wrestling Entertainment which was a popular fed back in the day running for 4 years after a few close downs. I then fed headed for Carnage Wrestling for several years until we decided it needed to close. I am also a professional skin coder and graphics designer who did coding and graphics for various feds that have gotten good reception. I also have 8 years match writing experience and always enjoy writing matches.

Instant Messenger Names (MSN, AIM, Yahoo): sincmercier <--- Skype

Character Info

Name: Sinclair Christopher Mercier (Sinc Mercier)

Height: 6'0

Weight: 240 ibs

Hometown: Windsor, California

Alignment: 3, as a face. I say this lightly because the only thing preventing Sinc from being a full blown face is the simple fact that he can be very hateful towards heel wrestlers he does not like for one reason or another. His gimmick is arrogant loud mouth, his type of face is more along the lines of Ken Anderson in his WWE days when he first went face. He loved his people, but he also loved putting down his enemies, but he would still praise his fans. That's who Sinc is, he would do anything to make his fans and the people happy, but when it comes to enemies and opponents, he is going to speak circles around them until their heads spin and then back up his words with pain. It's in his blood, he can't be too nice, because he was brought up toughened, honed to his craft. Not soft. When facing other face wrestlers he may go a bit easier, but he's still gonna be honest and cut em down when they need to be humbled.

Entrance Music: The Lucky One By Celldweller

Entrance Video: [video src="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uV5sG6OUDn4&feature=c4-overview&list=UU9C6EC1A_S3guT48JhXfQsQ"][/video]

Entrance Description: [i]All the lights are out. Only Sinc's titantron is shown. After the words, "Hooray for me I'm The Lucky One!" Blue Pyro fires out to the right of the crowd and to the left at the same moment. The lighting is a bright blue. The camera then blurs into Sinc raising his right hand high into the air as if grabbing a microphone and after a moment of waiting, Sinc begins walking down the ramp in an arrogant strut grinning smugly at the crowd and eying them in a bittersweet stare pointing to random people here and there acknowledging them.

He then quickly runs up the steps and enters the ring through the middle rope flicking one leg in the air in a taunt. He walks around the ring continuously eying the crowd and then stops suddenly in the center of it. He does the same gesture he did at the start of the ramp and the lighting turns into a single blue spotlight on Sinc. A microphone then slowly comes down into his hand and he announces his presence to everyone in confidence.[/i]
[font color="19c9e6"]
[font color="1998e6"]Sinc: Ladies and gentlemen boys and girls, I hail from WINDSOOOOOOOOOOR, CALIFORNIA! I weigh in tonight, at two hundred...and FORTY POUNDS...I am...SIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCC!!!!!!!! MERCIIIIIIIIERRRRRRR!!!!"[/font][/font]

[i]Sinc drops the mic and lets it hang. He then walks up to the post diagonal of him and raises two fists into the air following by a pounding of his chest and points to the audience once again. The lights return to normal. He then reverts to his respective place in the ring, and prepares for the match.[/i]


Physical Appearance:



Sinc is average built with only slight muscle mass. He doesn't have the same tats as Anderson does, but everything else is the same as Anderson. There are a few differences. Sinc's hair is blonde, and he has one single tat of a large cross on the back of his spine with the words "In Loving Memory, Glenn G. Mercier" in the middle of the cross.

Ring Attire: Blue wrestling trunks with black tribal going across the back of them and a glow in the dark white wolf head on the tribal. He also wears black knee pads with blue tribal going down the center and black ring boots with blue laces. Basic black elbow pads. To finish off his look, he wears black MMA grip fingerless gloves with the same wolf on his trunks, except the wolf is a glow in the dark blue color on his gloves.

Gimmick: Arrogant comedic with a big mouth.

Personality: When it comes to being in the ring and the term wrestling in general, Sinc gets very serious. There are very few who has a focus like Sinc does when he enters those ropes, he goes straight for tactic and wearing down the opponent. He is gifted on the microphone to make up for his shorter stature compared to most wrestlers and less than buff physique. He is quite difficult to persuade or talk down, he loves smack talk almost as much as he loves himself.

When it comes to out of the ring and being around friends, Sinc is actually quite silly and very fun to be around. He loves making jokes and poking fun at his comrades, however if you catch him on an off day he is liable to scream at you. For fun he loves things such as video games, traveling, and leisure at the expense of company paychecks. He likes making new pals, and often receives strength and encouragement from his cheering fanbase and group of current friends. If you cross him however, be prepared to receive his full wrath.

List up to three strengths of your character; they can be in-ring related, personality related, whatever you think helps define your character:

1. Intense in ring focus.
2. Superb Mic Skills.
3. Technically Sound.

List up to three weaknesses of your character:

1. Not that built.
2. Easy to anger.
3. Due to his loud mouth, he easily makes more enemies than friends.

Biography: Back in the day Sinc actually didn't like wrestling at all. He kinda hated it. His dad ran an underground wrestling circuit and kept pressuring Sinc to participate but instead Sinc went a different route, he decided to focus on being a stand up comedian. He did decent for awhile until one day his dad came to one of his gigs as a young gun in the field of comedy and was very drunk. His dad was an alcoholic and his underground wrestling business was driven into bankruptcy. His dad, being completely inebriated, started booing Sinc during one of his stand up routines as Sinc tried ignoring him and suddenly threw a beer bottle at his own son's head causing Sinc to completely lose focus during his comedy act and leave the stage to brawl his father for his actions.

After this fight, Sinc's father was sent to the hospital and Sinc felt incredibly bad for what he did. He promised his dad he'd give pro wrestling a shot, and ended up falling in love with it ever since. His dad died a few years later after training Sinc to pro wrestle permanently from pancreatic cancer. Sinc then started in other underground federations until he made his way to Mayhem Wrestling Entertainment(MWE) which was his original home that truly made him shine and stand out as a potential wrestler. He went on to become United States Champion, then World champion. After the fed closed down due to budget issues, Sinc then moved on to a few other short lived federations such as Extreme Pro Wrestling and Ultimate Underground Wrestling. He wasn't a fan of either of them due to believing he was wasting his talent in such small time businesses. Finally he found a second solace in Carnage Wrestling where he truly got a taste of hardcore wrestling and tested his mind, body, and soul through incredibly challenging and absolutely back breaking torture such as glass table matches, elevated cage matches, matches even as far as fighting one guy on the high beams attached to the roof. He proved himself in the hardcore realm and became Carnage World Heavyweight Champion in just two short months.

CW closed down shortly after his reign due to various wrestlers leaving the roster and CW staff leaving the production booths and quitting their careers all because of owner differences. But after nearly two years of being unemployed, Sinc is ready to get back in the game and prove to everyone in Exodus, he earned the right to be on the roster, and he's prepared to do whatever it takes to earn his spot.

Wrestling Style: Technical/Grappler

Finishers
1. Sinc-In(Half Nelson Exploder)
2. Serpentine(Inverted Headlock Backbreaker)
3. Sinctastic(Pumphandle Gut Buster)

Signature Moves
1. Sinkerator(Sunset Flip)
2. Overeasy(Kenton Bomb)
3. Skeptic Mercy(Cattle Mutilation)

Regular Moves You don't need to fill out all the slots for moves.
1. Samoan Drop
2. Cobraclutch Backbreaker
3. Uranage Slam
4. Snap Suplex
5. Jumping Neckbreaker
6. Two Handed Spinebuster
7. Kneeling Piledriver
8. Dropkick to Knees
9. Side Shuffle Kick
10. Spinning Punch
11. German Suplex
12. Jumping Bulldog
13. One Handed DDT
14. Facebuster
15. Fishermans Suplex

Submissions:

16. Reverse STF
17. Rearnaked Choke
18. Triangle Hold
19. Single Leg Boston Crab

Running/Rope Rebound:

20. Swinging Neckbreaker
21. Jawbreaker
22. Jump-And-Pound Punches

Turnbuckle:

23. Mudhole Stomping
24. Superplex

Aerial:

25. Crescent Moonsault(Grounded), and Jumping Spear(Standing).

Please make sure your matches are turned in by 6PM Central on 7/28. It will make it easier to put together the show. If everyone gets their segs in by deadline and same with matches, I may even be able to put the show up Sunday night. I only have one segment scheduled between matches, but if you tell me WHERE you want it to go, I will schedule it. Also, this will help me a great deal if you tell me where you want it so putting together the show is significantly easier. Anyways, here we go!

Heather Halliwell vs. Fiona Rourke
Writer: Jonathan
Judges: Adrien, Nick, Dave
I got this, don't you worry.

SEGMENT:

Blake Jones, Justin Brooks, Adrien Cochrane, Jonathan Collins, & Andreas Lasiewicz vs. Daisuke Iwakuma, GRENDEL, Ryuji Kamigawa, Zack Lifer, & Zero McHannon
Writer: Clint
Judges: Nick, Clint
Clint, I'd tell you how many words, but...just go fucking nuts.

SEGMENT: Blake Jones

Kliff Ulysses vs. Magnus Gunner
Writer:
Judges: Jonathan, Adrien, Spiro
Match must be around 700-900 words

SEGMENT:

Steve Lenton vs. Johnny Cannon
Writer: Dave
Judges: Jonathan, Adrien, Nick
Match must be around 700-900 words

SEGMENT: Jonathan

Jerry Matthews vs. Sylar Drake
Writer: Adrien
Judges: Jonathan, Adrien, Lasie
Match must be around 700-900 words

SEGMENT:

TBD vs. TBD
Writer: Nick
Judges: Jonathan, Adrien, Nick
Match must be around 600-800 words