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"Napalm" by Xzibit sounds around the RIMAC as the camera comes in from the most recent commercial break. Steve Lenton is still in the ring with the International Championship draped over his right shoulder amongst a fired up crowd. He calls for a microphone, as he appears to have something on his mind. He stands in the middle of the ring with a smile before signaling for his music to be cut. As his theme immediately fades Lenton begins to speak.

Steve Lenton: The Big L's come a long way in this business, a very long way, accomplishing feats that people said he'd never be able to do. None bigger than that fateful night at Desperate Times, when the Big L’ shocked the world and won this!

Lenton holds up the International Championship, garnering a pop from the crowd as the camera zooms in to focus on the triumphant champion’s trophy. After a brief moment it zooms back out as Steve continues.

Steve Lenton: But even with that, and the few wins the Big L's been able to muster up since then, that I still haven’t been given my fair shake, my proper dues. I want the respect. I look at Fiona Rourke, and I see a fighting champion. I see someone who has earned your respect and a champion that is willing to take on all comers. And she has never backed down from a fight. The Big L’s the same way, so it disheartens me that I don’t have a match yet at Endgame. I refuse to be considered a paper champion. I want to be the best wrestler in this business. I want to put on competitive matches, unforgettable matches. I want to defend this championship with pride, so when the time comes and I move on to bigger and greater pastures, the only thing people will be able to say is that The Big L was one of the greatest International Champions of all time.

Lenton paces around as he looks out to the crowd and back to the belt.

Steve Lenton: So with that said, The Big L's offering ANYBODY back there an opportunity to go toe to toe with the Big L at Endgame. I want somebody back there, who’s willing to go the distance, who’s willing to make history and steal the show. I want somebody-

Before the champion can finish that thought, “Supernaut” by Black Sabbath erupts from the amplifiers, the buzzing of guitar and drums an unfamiliar tune to the ears of the fans yet sounds the entrance of one of the company’s unmistakable personalities. The crowd stands up, their interest captured like a magnet as Johnny Cannon swipes through the curtains, stepping out onto the stage in his ring attire, fresh off his tag team match alongside Heather Halliwell – save for a floral Versace jacket and some Ray Ban classic wayfarers.

Dick Morosi: It looks like the former Tag Team Champion and member of the Short Change Heroes, Johnny Cannon has decided to answer the bell Seth.

Seth Ericson: He’s lucky I didn’t get out of my seat first, or it would have been me answering Lenton’s challenge!

Dick Morosi: I highly doubt that Seth, but I’ll let you be great.

A few jeers mixed with buzzing of whispers and cheers from those in attendance fill the RIMAC as Cannon marches down the ramp as usual, rather staring down Lenton, he glances at his wrist, and then the ground ten feet before him in a swaggering manner. Steve has a confident smile cracked along the side of his face from seeing what one could consider his friend, and from interest, waves over at the Englishman, inviting his potential challenger to step into the ring with him. Cannon climbs onto the apron, wipes his feet along them upon standing, and then obliges. He is delivered a microphone by one of the towel jockeys, and he stands right in front of the International Champion.

Johnny Cannon: If there’s anybody who knows you Steve, it’s your boy Johnny right here, and let me apologize for never congratulating you on winning that championship that sits on your shoulders right now. You put on a fantastic performance at Desperate Times old chap. For that I respect you a helluva a lot.

Lenton nods and smiles as the crowd chirps, Cannon rubbing the rim of his chin as he contemplates where to go next with his thought.

Johnny Cannon: And if there’s anybody that knows about wrestling classic matches around here, it’s this wanker right there. So I sat back there in my locke room, drinking some Belvedere, trying to nurse some nagging injuries, and you came out here and you started to talk a little, rambling, talking off the ears of these people, and then it dawned on me. The two of us Steve, we’ve been around the block once a few times, and no, we’re not the quintessential veterans in this company, and no, we haven’t taken all the nasty bumps and resorted to gang-warfare to try and make names for ourselves. But we’ve been in the same place, Stevie. We’ve both been busting our asses off to get here, and now that we’re here, all we’ve done is fight tooth and nail to let all these people know that we’re forces to be reckoned with. And now look at us. I’ve had the tag team championship in my bloody trophy case, and you, well you have that right there, and that’s plenty proof that you’re no pushover.

Cannon removes his shades, tucking them on the collar of his jacket as Steve nods and squints his eyes.

Johnny Cannon: I could talk about climbing the ladder, I could talk about searching for that big mountain and that tall tree, but I’m not in the mood for metaphors tonight Steve. It’s rather simple. You issued a challenge, and I’m here to tell you that you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your career. I know what drives you old chap, I know every single jolt of electricity that pumps through your massive head, and I know just how competitive you are. But you know something too Steve, and that’s that we’ve crossed paths several times, but never one on one. You also know that I’m the measuring stick around these parts. I’ve wrestled arguably the best matches in EXODUS Pro history, but I’ve failed to come out on the right side of the ledger. I want that respect too Steve. I want that fight. You want your reason. Then you want me at Endgame. I came here to prove I’m the best pound for pound wrestler, and fighter on this entire green earth, and it’s time I get back to that goal. It’s time Johnny Cannon shows everyone that-

Steve quickly raises a finger, stopping Cannon mid-thought.

Steve Lenton: The Big L accepts. The Big L accepts the fact that you want to prove you can go the distance with anybody. The Big L accepts the fact that we’ve been partners and opponents, but never have we been given the opportunity to test one another one on one. The Big L accepts the fact that you are one of the most skilled competitors in this company, and that you’ve had some fantastic matches, but Johnny Cannon needs to accept this.

Lenton raises the International Championship up to Johnny’s face, the smiles on both men vanishing as the intensity in their eyes increases.

Steve Lenton: I’m the International Champion, and I’m not giving this up without a fight. You want the Big L at Endgame little Johnny, you’ve got the Big L at Endgame.

The two shake hands, never breaking eye contact as the smug grin returns to Cannon’s face, his head nodding approvingly as he mentally prepares himself for what lies ahead. "Napalm" resumes again as Steve and Johnny start to leave, sizing one another up.

Dick Morosi: And there you have it Seth. At Endgame, Johnny Cannon vs Steve Lenton, for all the marbles. This is a match that’s been a longtime coming as these two friends become foes for the International Championship.

Seth Ericson: And we’ll have to see how strong that friendship is when the spirit of competition heats up. And if you know Johnny Cannon as well as I do, you know he’ll do anything to win.

Singles Match
WEAPON vs. Magnus Gunner

Dick Morosi: And now we've got a hell of a match next! After weeks of tormenting, Magnus Gunner will be going one on one with WEAPON...and it's next!

"The Catalyst" by Linkin Park starts to play, and the crowd starts to stir as coming out from the back is WEAPON! With purpose, he comes down to the ring, already looking for a fight.

David Zinkus: The following match is scheduled for one fall, introducing first, the mysterious WEAPON!

Dick Morosi: And our next contest could be the most anticipated one of the evening Seth. Magnus Gunner and EXODUS as a whole are searching for answers that WEAPON and Itsumo Ichi appear to have.

Seth Ericson: Not to mention he laid out the Loaded Pistol LAST week, right after some rather familiar theme music went off. Somebody is toying with Gunner Dick. Whether it's WEAPON, Ichi, or somebody more sinister, I have a feeling we're going to find out right now.

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. 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 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 through the venue, the velvet curtains are ruffled from their suspension with the brushing of white hockey-tape covered hands. Magnus 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. Gunner stands still and tall at the apex of the ramp, his face blank, his wavy hair covering his face as his head hangs askew whilst he poses in the crucifix. Magnus 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.

Seth Ericson: Magnus looks like a man on a mission Dick. When you poke the hornets nest, you get stung.

Dick Morosi: More like a killer wasp. Whatever WEAPON's game is, I hope it works out for him. Otherwise, he could be another one on a long list of Gunner's chair victims.

"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, 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 a top 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.

Magnus 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. WEAPON slowly cracks his neck and leans off the ropes as the bell sounds thrice.



Dick Morosi: And here we go!

The Loaded Pistol and the heavily armed WEAPON now stand in opposite corners of one another. Gunner fuming as he stares down his opponent, waiting to charge out of the gate. WEAPON is taking a surprisingly lax posture, leaning back comfortably into the turnbuckle with absolute patience as the referee makes the check and calls for the bell. Predictably Magnus surges forward, and almost effortlessly WEAPON weaves around him. Magnus instinctively swings back a left elbow but is caught and spun around into a fierce right elbow in return from WEAPON followed seamlessly by a thunder cracking knife edge chop, spurring the crowd into Ric Flair-esque bellowing.

WOOOOOOO!

Dick Morosi: WEAPON is acting strangely vibrant here tonight.

Seth Ericson: He's certainly not like himself tonight. That's for sure. I wonder who he is like though...

WEAPON firmly grabs Magnus by the chin and faces him down before shoving off of him and backing away to the middle of the ring. Gunner stares at him with a murderous expression etched in stone on his visage, rubbing his stinging chest before surging out after him once more. The two clash in the middle of the ring, locking up in the traditional collar and elbow tie up. Urgently, Magnus strikes hard with a driving knee to the ribs that lifts the lethal WEAPON up inches from the mat. Gunner quickly takes advantage of his doubled over opponent, sending clubbing forearm strikes to his back and head in rapid, violent succession. The Loaded Pistol quickly pulls on the arm, and pivots behind his adversary to subdue him with a hammerlock hold. He torques tightly on WEAPON's left arm, before driving his knees into his chest for good measure. Delivering one, two, and finally three increasingly hard and malicious lifting knee thrusts before WEAPON decides he's had enough, quickly throwing his right arm in the way, pushing his knee down and using the momentum to twist himself free and unleash a precise European uppercut to the grizzled Gunner's jaw. The Michigander staggers back a few paces as he gingerly tends to to his possibly realigned jaw.

Dick Morosi: A good deal of finesse employed by WEAPON, and a great deal of animosity on display from Gunner.

Seth Ericson: And WEAPON isn't done just yet.

WEAPON swings his elbow down, driving it into Gunner's temple, effectively sending the Loaded Pistol recoiling back. The masked vigilante takes a hold of Magnus's wrist, pulling him into a left kick the abdomen, followed by a STIFF knee strike to the face that drops the deranged psychopath to a knee. With the wrist still captured, he proceeds to grip Gunner by the air and lift him to a vertical base. He leans back and slings Gunner along for the ride, pulling him in with whiplash like force and sending him into the turnbuckle. Afterward, he breaks into a dead sprint, in hot pursuit of the reeling Loaded Pistol. The gasping, disoriented Gunner spins around dizzily, yet manages to catch sight of his opponent in mid-charge, and is able to brace for the sudden, incoming impact. But just before collision WEAPON grabbed the ropes tightly, stopping himself a solid inch from Magnus' face.

Seth Ericson: .....What.

Dick Morosi: I'm not... Entirely sure myself.

Magnus Gunner seems even more confused, as WEAPON just gives him a curt nod and a scruffing of his hair with his hand before backing away once again into the center of the ring to await the next move of his bewildered foe. WEAPON stands firm, urging Gunner into the center of the squared circle to tangle again.

Seth Ericson: I don't think I've seen WEAPON toy with someone... At least not in this particular fashion.

Dick Morosi: And it seems to be working. I've never seen Magnus off his game like this before.

The confusion quickly turns to anger as Gunner charges at WEAPON, who in turn, quickly drops down and rolls out of the ring. Like a rabid dog Magnus immediately pursues him, and the two commence a cat and mouse chase around the ring while the masses of humanity packing the RIMAC cheer and laugh at the exhibition. The two superstars round the squared circle three or four times until WEAPON slides back inside the ring, followed by the Loaded Pistol a few seconds later, ending with the former quickly scrambling to his feet and making a bee-line for the far ropes. Upon rebounding, WEAPON comes in with a wild swing at a rising Gunner's head, only to have his attack circumvented and countered as Magnus pivots and turns. Having latched onto his foe's wrist during the rotation, the Loaded Pistol raises his boot whilst pulling Weapon forward, before dropping down to the canvas and driving his foot into his adversaries jaw, stunning him with an Inverted Stomp Facebreaker. Slumped over on one knee with his head hanging askew, WEAPON appears ripe for the picking to the proverbial Lord of the Flies, as Gunner climbs back to a stand. With haste he lunges forward with an extending arm - the aforementioned limb violently clashes into the mask assailant's sternum, as the impact of the STIFF lariat reverberates through the RIMAC. Gunner immediately drops down to hook his leg.

Seth Ericson: Magnus has had enough of the mind games Dick. And you've got to believe this could be the beginning of the end.

Dick Morosi: The look in Gunner's eyes would certainly indicate such.

"ONE"
"TWO"

WEAPON quickly rolls a shoulder over to break the pinfall, prompting Gunner to continue his relentless attack. Pulling his nemesis to his feet, Gunner scores with a devastating knee strike to the midsection, causing WEAPON to double over in pain. Afterward, the Loaded Pistol grapples him around the head, encircling his cranium and applying a textbook headlock as he attempts to wear down the masked man. Gunner cranks up the pressure, before removing one hand and attempting to rip off his foe's mask; the gesture forces WEAPON to take evasive measures as he rapid fires a flurry of elbows that find a home in Magnus' solar plexus, before he instinctively maneuvers behind him, causing the hold to become considerably less excruciating, whilst subsequently wrapping his arms around Gunner's near leg. With a popping of the hips, WEAPON musters enough strength to hoist the Loaded Pistol into the air. Exploiting the momentum, Gunner flips backward, landing on his feet like a cat, a few feet behind his adversary. However, Weapon quickly spins around and swipes his hand through the air, smacking the Legionnaire in the mug with an open palm strike that ignites the crowd and infuriates it's victim.

Dick Morosi: He's making a fool out of Magnus. Some kind of display, some kind of strategy this is!

Seth Ericson: Yeah, but he's just making him even madder. That's the LAST thing you want to do. If Gunner gets a hold of him, WEAPON might get stretchered out of the RIMAC!

WEAPON waves a finger to taunt the Loaded Pistol, who's face is now reddened with inhospitable rage. The latter quickly charges forward impulsively and fires with a Clothesline attempt that cuts through the electricity in the air with utter ferocity. WEAPON ducks his head and evades the attack, before pivoting on his feet. With his arm bent and cocked he spins inward, connecting with a THUNDEROUS forearm shot into the turning Gunner's face. The violent collision and clashing of elbow and mug sends Magnus falling through the ropes in a wave of disorientation and pain as he unceremoniously tumbles outside the ring and lands on the floor. The Michigander slowly staggers to his feet and collapses across the guardrail, staring back into the ring as he swishes his tongue around his mouth to recapture the taste that was just knocked out of it. Meanwhile inside the proverbial killing grounds, WEAPON stands tall, posing in the LEGION crucifix pose to further garner the ire of his opponent.

Dick Morosi: WEAPON is in complete control Seth. He's got Magnus all out of his comfort zone. Usually the puppeteer, Gunner finds himself to be the one getting his strings pulled.

Seth Ericson: Indeed, but I'll reiterate, some argue the Loaded Pistol isn't dealing with a full of deck of cards to begin with. He's only more pissed off by WEAPON's shenanigans.

With a bitter scowl etched on his face, the Loaded Pistol makes his way to the timekeeper's table, ignoring the ten count of the referee. The vindictive Magnus Gunner grabs two steel chairs, and slowly saunters toward the steel stairs, ascending them in a methodical, rhythmical fashion as WEAPON steps back in a ready stance, somewhat perplexed by his foe's actions, yet prepared for the prospect of what might transpire. On the outside looking in, standing on the apron, the LEGION's eloquent madman tosses one of the chairs at WEAPON who effortless catches it. The masked superstar first stares at the chair, then at his adversary, who's face remains a menagerie of animosity and detestation. Chest heaving, eyes-squinted, breaths distressed, the indignant Loaded Pistol slowly climbs back inside the ring. With the referee looking on in confusion and uneasiness, Magnus brandishes the chair, inviting and urging WEAPON to do the same. Then, with the suddenness of a lightning strike and the un-expectency of rain on a hot summer night, the incensed Michigander charges at WEAPON, swinging the chair with reckless abandon whilst shouting over the top of his lungs.

Gunner: YOU WANT TO PLAY GAMES... LET'S PLAY!

Quick thinking, WEAPON rolls forward, evading the chair-shot and avoiding what would have been his immediate doom. The masked superstar scrambles back to his feet, raising the chair in his own attack, but whiffing as the Loaded Pistol sidesteps the strike attempt. In defense, WEAPON quickly retracts the chair and raises it to shield a second, incoming chair swing. The collision of steel echoes through the RIMAC, the impact of which sends WEAPON stumbling to the canvas where he immediately retreats under the ropes.

Seth Ericson: Gunner has snapped!

Dick Morosi: And look at WEAPON, he knew to get the hell out of dodge! Engaging Magnus Gunner of all people in a dueling of the chairs is about the last thing you want to do.

The sounding of the bell suddenly breaks the ill-tempered Michigander out of his truculent disposition. Gunner spins around, focusing his glare on the referee who backs up to keep his distance before motioning to the outside.

David Zinkus: Ladies and gentleman, the referee has issued a stop to this match by way of DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION.

Further exasperated, Magnus swings the chair at the referee who just BARELY manages to escape, as he dives out of the ropes. Pacing around the ring, the Loaded Pistol breathes heavily, driving his fingers through his long black sweaty hair as he takes the appearance of a man that has been completely embarrassed. And the mocking only continues as he looks outside at WEAPON who laughs at his misery. Finally, WEAPON drops his chair and nods his head before motioning his hand to the back. The crowd surges to an anxious cheer as the lights go out. Magnus stands once again in the center of the ring, looking around with paranoia as he brandishes his favorite chair. The cameras in the crowd flash and offer glimmers of light, the crowd can see Magnus storming about the ring searching all sides for an incoming assailant. He could be heard audibly screaming.

Magnus Gunner: WHERE ARE YOU?! QUIT HIDING!

As the crowd is trickling down, Magnus bangs his instrument against the mat. Tired of being haunted, tired of waiting. The air fills with tension. Until at the last moment, the music hits over the loud speakers.



The crowd begins to buzz and stir again as a spotlight focuses on the ring, down on Magnus. He covers his eyes for a brief time to adjust, standing still and watching all corners still for moving shadows. As the music builds up another spotlight focuses on the entrance set, to the curtain where smoke is beginning to pour out. Slowly but surely there is movement behind the curtain. And out comes what appears to be a figure, wrapped in a black cloak with his face carefully obscured by the flowing robes.

Seth Ericson: This looks like it could be it...!

Dick Morosi: I don't know what to make of this entirely... But it appears someone is playing to Magnus' current fear of ghosts.

Magnus clutches the chair, banging it a few more times. Calling for his dead brother to come and get him, gesturing for him to get in the ring. The ghostly figure slowly makes his way down the aisle, carefully walking in time with the crescendo of the music. The crowd begins to whistle and cheer, reaching out to try and tug the hem of the ghastly garment and reveal the figure concealed beneath it. Just before the ring, he stops. And the music cuts out, just before the lyrics start. The crowd eagerly chants.

U-LYSS-ES
U-LYSS-ES
U-LYSS-ES

Seth Ericson: Oooooooh! It's coming!

Dick Morosi: Stay in your seat.

The crowd is enticed as the mysterious figure slowly reaches up to his hood. Magnus urges him on, calling out for Kliff to show himself. Waving for him to step into the ring. He grips the cloth carefully in his hands, and slowly begins to peel it back before abruptly throwing it all off his face to reveal Itsumo Ichi. The crowd quickly surges into a cheer, but then gasps die down as they catch a glimpse of his grinning face.

Seth Ericson: AW! SON OF A B-

Dick Morosi: WAITAMINUTE! WEAPON!

The crowd comes back to life yet again as WEAPON stealthily slips into the ring and spins Magnus around. Again Magnus is caught by surprise as he's pulled into a fireman's carry and spun round into a TKO just like at E-Pro TV 12, ,eaving him sprawled out in the middle of the ring as WEAPON stands over him, breathing heavily. He looks over and gestures to Ichi, who retrieves for him a microphone and slides it into the ring, and WEAPON slides Magnus' chair back for him. He stands atop Magnus, with the audience held in captivation as he holds the mic to his masked face and began to almost sing.

WEAPON: ...So ya. Thought ya... Might like to. Go to the show.

He gestures to the audience, placing one foot on Gunner's chest.

WEAPON: To feel the warm thrill of confusion... That space cadette glow.

He stares down at his opponent, leaning down to put pressure onto his chest.

WEAPON: Tell me. Is something eluding you, sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see?

You can hear him, almost break into a laugh, pointing to Ichi before slapping Magnus gently on the face before standing upright and adjusting his mask loosely.

WEAPON: If you wanna find out, Maggie. What's behind these cold eyes...

He grips the back of his mask and quickly rips it off. The crowd erupts into a sea of cheers at last as Kliff's grinning face shines through. A sea of fists raise up in the crowd as they begin to cheer.

Kliff Ulysses: You just have to claw your way through this disguise!

Kliff stands before the crowd triumphantly as he whips the mask into the sea of screaming fans. He marches around proudly, bowing, blowing kisses and soaking in his moment.

KLIFF U-LYSS-ES!
KLIFF U-LYSS-ES!
KLIFF U-LYSS-ES!

Kliff laughs emphatically, kneeling down beside his partner.

Kliff Ulysses: See you at ENDGAME Mags!

He then drops the mic and once again resumes playing to the crowd, eating up their cheers.

Seth Ericson: That was a roller coaster... My god. Kliff's back! God help us! The Ultimate Entertainer has returned!

Dick Morosi: The Humanoid Typhoon returns. And he's turned his gaze back on his brothers. Indeed. God help them.

We cut to commercial as Kliff Ulysses stands tall, soaking up the cheers from the crowd.

NO CONTEST

Tag Team Match
Ryuji Kamigawa & Chris Marks vs. Johnny Cannon & Heather Halliwell

"Lowlife" by Theory of a Deadman starts up as Chris Marks comes out with a great deal of swagger while Ryuji Kamigawa is about four steps behind him, already annoyed.

David Zinkus: Coming down the aisle, the team of Ryuji Kamigawa and Chris "The Filth" Marks!

Marks and Kamigawa enter the ring and Chris tries to play up to the crowd as Kamigawa continues to look bored. In the meantime, "This Life" by Curtis Stigers & the Forest Rangers starts up as Heather Halliwell comes out with Johnny Cannon in tow.

David Zinkus: And their opponents...the team of Heather Halliwell and Johnnnnnnny Cannonnnnnn!

The two start to enter the ring, focus in their eyes, all while they size up their opponents.

Dick Morosi: This should be a solid match up here for both teams.

Seth Ericson: I'm expecting Kamigawa to kill them all.

Heather starts the match with Chris. Marks shoots few jabs towards the Number One Contender and locks her in a Side Headlock. He transitions into a standing Sleeper Hold, but Heather grabs one of his arms and throws him over her shoulder. Marks gets up quickly, but Heather takes him down again with Headscissors and quickly locks in a Fujiwara Armbar. Marks struggles, but in the end he reaches the ropes with his other hand. Ref forces Halliwell to break the count and as Chris tries to get up, she tags in Johnny Cannon. The former Tag Team Champ waits for Marks to get on his knees and shoots several stiff kicks towards his chest before dropping him with low DDT. A cover attempt follows.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Dick Morosi: Chris Marks looking strong right now.

Seth Ericson: I have to admit it, I'm kind of surprised.

Marks kicks out and Cannon wastes no time and signals to go for a Lariat. He goes for it, but Marks ducks the attempt and literally dives to his corner to tag in Kamigawa. Cannon charges at him, but Kamigawa counters with a Big Boot right to the Englishman's face. He continues with a Jumping Leg Drop and then lifts him up and connects with a Side Belly to Belly Suplex to a pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout by Johnny! Ryuji stays in control with several Headbutts to the laying opponent, before lifting him up into a Press Slam position. He waits for a while before dropping Johnny with a Samoan Drop. Kamigawa then climbs to the second rope and goes for a Diving Headbutt, but Cannon rolls away and Ryuji hits nothing but canvas! Johnny reaches for the tag and Heather is in. As Kamigawa stands up, she Snapmares him into a seated position and Johnny hits a Low Superkick before finally stepping behind the ropes again. Heather finishes the combo with a beautiful Standing Moonsault.

Dick Morosi: Amazing agility by the number one contender!

Seth Ericson: That's not the only amazing thing she's got right now...

Heather instantly goes for the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

Kamigawa kicks out and rolls on his belly, but Heather is quick like a lightning bolt and locks in the Crippler Crossface. Ryuji struggles, but after few seconds he finally manages to use his power to roll Halliwell on her shoulders for a count.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-- Kickout by Heather!

They both get up and Heather goes for a Hurricanrana, but Kamigawa counters, keeps her in a Powerbomb position and performs a Bucklebomb to his corner! Kamigawa tags in Marks and Chris takes his time, taunting Halliwell and telling her to get up. As she does just that, Marks sneakes behind her and hits a German Suplex into a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-- Heather kicks out again!

Dick Morosi: The number one contender is showing some fighting spirit!

Seth Ericson: Enough of that, let's see something else...like her breasts!

Marks signals for the Sitdown Powerbomb, but Heather suddenly sweeps his legs and locks in The Southern Comfort! Chris screams from all the pain, but doesn't tap out as Ryuji cuts in and kicks Heather. Johnny Cannon, however, doesn't allow any numbers games as he enters the ring as well... Birmingham Screwdriver to Ryuji! The Japanese star rolls under the bottom rope to ringside and ref tries to get Cannon back behind the ropes. As he does it, he doesn't see Marks raking Heather's eyes and putting her into the Powerbomb position! He lifts her up for X Marks The Spot, but Halliwell counters beautifully with Headscissors and sends him head first to a turnbuckle pad! She quickly tags in Cannon, who motions for the rocked Marks to come on. Chris charges at him, but Johnny counters beutifully into the Cardiac Arrest kick, which he quickly follows with Cannon Driver into a pinning position!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

"This Life" reprises as referee raises up the hand of Johnny Cannon. Heather joins him in celebration, while Marks rolls out of the ring after taking the pin.

Dick Morosi: Momentum is back on her side! Heather Halliwell picks up a huge victory with Johnny Cannon, and both are moving toward their matches at Endgame with momentum on his side!

Seth Ericson: This is only good for Johnny Cannon as well! He's looking to make a name for himself in the wake of losing the tag team titles, and this can only help!

WINNER: Johnny Cannon & Heather Halliwell

Dick Morosi: Indeed. Now let's head backstage, as Tom Matheny has Justin Brooks with him!

Tom Matheny: Ladies and Gentlemen…I have the esteemed pleasure of standing with a man who’s been strangely absent in the EXODUS Pro ranks. But at E-Pro Television 12 he made a valiant return. He’s the Big Bad Brooks, Justin Brooks.

The camera pans out to see Justin Brooks standing to the left of Tom Matheny with his hands on his waist. A trademarked ‘BIG BAD BROOKS’ t-shirt fits his large 260 plus frame as he runs his tongue over the front of his teeth.

Tom Matheny: Justin it’s been several weeks since we’ve seen you in an EXODUS Pro ring and last week you arrived with monstrous fashion helping to dispatch LEGION with a force that you’re known for. But the big quest is where have you been for the past month and some change.

Justin looks over at Tom but the big man doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even respond to the question right away, letting an awkward silence fill the void between them as Tom holds the microphone in front of Brooks.

Justin Brooks: While the rest of EXODUS came back to the West Coast, I took some time and handle some business at the request of Jonathan. In that time, I put some personal demons to rest and in the interim I come into my own as a fighter and a wrestler. And with that I come back to EXODUS looking to extract a bit of payback…so with that said, I expect that Blake Jones to name me to Team EXODUS for War Games.

Tom arches a brow as he lowers to the microphone back to himself.

Tom Matheny: Yet what if Blake Jones doesn’t decide to pick you?

Justin Brooks: You didn’t quite understand what I said. I don’t care what Blake Jones is thinking…he needs to add me to Team EXODUS because he knows what I bring to the table and what I do. There is no other course of action, there is no other decision, and there is no other option. Blake Jones wants me on Team EXODUS; Blake Jones –needs- me on Team EXODUS.

Tom Matheny: And if he doesn’t?

Not fielding the question, Justin turns and walks off screen as Tom lowers the microphone and shrugs his shoulders in confusion. Next, the scene opens to the locker room of “The Evangelist” Jerry Matthews. He is seated on a bench in front of his locker, and he is wearing a white cotton suit, the San Diego Bay title belt draped over his right shoulder. He has his head bowed silently in prayer, when all of a sudden, Deacon Jeremiah and Selena Alexander walk into the room.

Deacon Jeremiah: Reverend, it’s time. Your match is up next.

Matthews lets out a deep breath and rises from the bench.

Jerry Matthews: Jeremiah, let tonight be the night that the eyes of EXODUS Pro are finally opened. Tonight, once Steve Lenton is put to rest, Jonathan Collins will have one less arrow in his quiver. And the fans may finally be able to see that the Seikigun is nothing more than a gang of thugs that Collins uses to enforce his will at his own behest.

Deacon Jeremiah: Indeed, God willing, this will come to pass. But, before we head out there, please allow me to apologize for my moment of weakness two weeks ago when Sylar Drake defeated me, and for when I allowed myself to be distracted when Chris Marks lured me away from ringside, leaving you alone. It will not happen again.

The pastor walks over and places a hand on the Deacon’s shoulder.

Jerry Matthews: I have faith in you, Jeremiah. Don’t let it be misplaced. Now, let us go, we have the Lord’s work to do.

Deacon Jeremiah: Yes, Reverend.

The trio head out of the locker room and prepare to head to ringside as the scene fades to commercial.

Thanks, guys.

Heather, Zero, Lifer, WEAPON, Magnus, and Fiona all have until 3 pm central on Sunday.

Yep, born in Seattle.

Da Hash works though, that's good.

So I flipped the coin and...Jon is a very lucky lad, as he manages to succeed.

Any ambiguity is Jon's fault, as you would expect it to be.

But let's go ahead and announce the next one. Mexico has a rich history, based around legacy and things like that. Masks and power passed down through the generations. Becoming legends.

So for this round, You must pick a second generation or later Mexican wrestler, whether it's a real relation or merely kayfabe.