[SCW] Wildcard – 2/10/16

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SCW Presents Wildcard: February 10th, 2016
Live from The Luxor Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas, NV

 

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(The cameras begin with a single shot of the ring from a bird’s-eye-view, before capturing shots of legendary icons within the building, from the Sphinx to the pyramid, until finally panning out and then filming a panoramic view of the audience within the Luxor Hotel and Casino. Several signs are shown including, “BRYTAIN FOR SURESHOT”, “YOU’RE NOT MY BUDDY GUY BRODY”, “I SHIP DEX AND BIG MIKE”,”KALI IS STILL MY DRAGON QUEEN” and, “STRIKE’S GONNA KILL YOU” before stopping at the commentary table.)

CR: Welcome to Wildcard! What a star studded Main Event we have! Three Champions, and a former Global Champion all in one ring as Norcia and Jacobs team up to take on Four Kings!

OC: Bae’s gonna slay! And we’ve got the dashing Tabula Rasa against V for the first time ever!

CR: That’s not our only big match, we’ve also got Brytain Rollins looking to keep up her roll since returning as Tommy Evans has his first official one on one match as a member of the SCW roster. He has a tag team win to his name with Rex against Evan and Decker Watts, but seeks his first singles win.

OC: Baelyn’s gonna bravely lead Guy Brody back into battle, and I be he finally wins for once!

CR: I wouldn’t bet on it, but speaking of looking for a win, a recofused Westley McFadden returns to action and he looks to hand Jennifer Famularo her first pinfall or submission loss. All that, plus we’ve got Green Thunder getting introduced to the world!

OC: What the hell is a purification ceremony?

CR: You asked that least week! If you let us get rolling with this show, I’m sure you can find out!

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Brytain Rollins vs Tommy Evans

GC: This is the Wildcard opening bout of the evening, and it is set for one fall! Introducing first …

(The arena plunges into complete and total darkness as the first few heavy beats of “King of the World” by Porcelain and the Tramps thunders from the sound system. There is an explosion of pyro, blindingly white; it pops and crackles across the stage like lightening. As the pyro fades out, the stage is bathed in red light. )

Cause we all know
what goes around comes around
You should’ve known what I was all about
Do not test me.

(The crash of a guitar joining the heavy bass beat and Brytain Rollins slips out onto the stage. Her pink hair curled around her shoulders and bathed red in the light as her sharp blue eyes sweep across the crowd and the ring with the kind of impassivity that speaks to boredom but her body language refutes that notion. She saunters to the ring, the light catching on the rows of gold spikes, tarnished with age, that run down the back of her boots from knee to heel. )

GC: From Los Angeles, California, this is Brytain Rollins!!!

Cause I’m the fucking king of the world
Get on your knees
I’m the fucking king of the world
Do as I please

So get up and get out
or I’ll show you
What it means for me to control you

(One hand reaches up, grasping the middle rope as she uses it to pull herself up on the apron and with a quick dip, she’s inside of the ring, circling it like a predator. She wanders towards her corner, leaning against the turnbuckle as she tilts her head.)

Keep your head down
until I tell you to speak…

GC: Her opponent …

(Out of seemingly nowhere, gunshots echo over the sound system, startling many of the Vegas fans but also prompting them to begin clapping and cheering as the sound leads into Machine Gun Kelly’s “Warning Shot.” After a few seconds of the intro, Tommy Evans jogs lazily onto the stage, standing at the center and grabbing the top of his hood, pulling it up as he looks around the arena pointing. He tosses it off, planting his feet and squatting as he performs his “suicide” taunt to the crowd’s approval.)

GC: Making his way to the ring next, weighing in tonight at 186 lbs. hailing from Oshkosh, Wisconsin… ‘Suicidal’ Tommy EVANS!

(Pushing back up to his feet, Tommy charges to the right side of the ramp, hopping up onto the barricade and throwing a fist in the air. He takes off his sleeveless hoodie, handing it to a fan before rushing across the barricade and leaping over to the apron, quickly climbing the turnbuckle.)

CR: Tommy Evans has finally kicked off a singles career here in Sin City Wrestling, and I must say I’m excited to see what he’s capable of.

OC: I’m not! He’s a degenerate criminal, just like his brother!

(After throwing his fist in the air and shouting inaudible things into the crowd, he twists down into the ring and smiles across it at Brytain, offering a nod before backing into his corner.)

CR: And here we are!

(The bell sounds to a pop from the audience and immediately, Tommy Evans rushes toward Brytan Rollins, but she side-steps him, using his own weight against him to throw him toward the ropes– but Tommy comes to a stop beforehand, pivoting and giving Brytain a wink, though she is quick to slap on a side headlock and throw herself and Evans to the ground! Evans rolls through and back to his feet, quicker than Brytain, going for a Warning Shot, the Superkick, but Brytain ducks beneath it and hops to her feet, using Tommy’s knee to nail a Step-Up Enzuigiri!)

CR: And Brytain Rollins outkicks Tommy E–

(As Tommy spirals to the ground, he throws his leg back, nailing a Pele Kick to a pop from the audience, catching Rollins under the eye! Both competitors take a moment to catch a breather, but roll away from each other, pulling themselves to their feet.)

CR: This thing has already opened up at such a fast pace!

OC: It’s exactly what I expected to see. Brytain Rollins has something to prove to herself and Tommy Evans is a hothead. This is his pace.

(Tommy reaches his feet a split-second before Brytain. She stumbles upright and Tommy rushes forward, going for a Roaring Elbow to a roller-coaster ”OOOOOHHHHHH!” assist from the audience, but Rollins ducks beneath it! Evans pivots on a dime though and blasts Rollins in the side of the head with a Roaring Elbow, to a roar from the impressed Vegas audience! Rollins hits the mat and Evans quickly steps out of the ring, to the apron, rushing to the turnbuckles to the delight of a screaming Luxor!)

OC: Of course Las Vegas would cheer for the reckless risk taker. It’s all fun and games until the kid gives himself a concussion, Court!

CR: Tommy’s sizing Rollins up. Might be looking to close up early!

(Evans stands confidently at the top as Rollins pulls herself up– and Evans leaps off, nailing a Missile Dropkick! The impact is great enough to send Rollins rolling backwards, head-over-heels until she rolls clear out of the ring. Evans crawls desperately after her, but sighs as she drops to the outside and Carrie Caldwell begins her ten-count.

”ONE!”

“TWO!”)

OC: Kid hit a hell of a dropkick from the top but Rollins, either by the force of it or by veteran instinct, got out of dodge.

CR: Tommy does still have the opportunity to win this by countout though.

OC: Lame!

(Caldwell continues her count… and the crowd grows loud as Tommy clearly begins to grow anxious, bouncing from foot to foot as Rollins uses the ringside barrier to pull herself up on the outside.

”THREE!”

“FOUR!”

“FIVE!”

Caldwell’s hair is blown to the side as if hit by a gust of wind as Evans shoots the far ropes and sprints past the ref at full-speed, diving between the ropes and nailing Rollins with a Suicide Dive! Both competitors smash viciously into the apron and the audience erupts into a frenzy!)

CR: What a dive!

OC: And what a crash-landing! Little idiot! You see what I mean?!

(The dazed Tommy Evans grins to the crowd as he shakily pulls himself to his feet, using the barrier. Several fans reach over the barricade to pat his back and shoulders while he forces Rollins up by the arm and slides her into the ring. Carrie urges Tommy to get back into the ring as well. Tommy climbs onto the apron, holding his head a bit before making his way back to the turnbuckles.)

CR: And Tommy Evans is heading back to the top, and I can’t blame him. He’s been effective up there thus far.

OC: Effective at hurting himself almost as much as he’s hurting Brytain! Haven’t these kids seen Concussion starring Don God?

(Tommy reaches the top turnbuckle… and out of nowhere, Brytain Rollins rolls to her feet! She rushes to the corner and quickly scales to the top, before nailing a Snap Super Hurricanrana to the standing Evans! Tommy is thrown clear to the other side of the ring from the impact and the audience roars in approval!)

”LET’S GO TOMMY!” ”BRY-TAIN ROL-LINS!”

”LET’S GO TOMMY!” ”BRY-TAIN ROL-LINS!”

”LET’S GO TOMMY!” ”BRY-TAIN ROL-LINS!”

(Brytain uses the corner to pull herself to her feet, taking a deep breath as she watches Tommy do the same in the opposite corner. Brytain readies herself, muttering under her breath as Tommy gets up– and she rushes him, leaping up for charging double-knees in the corner… but Evans catches her and turns around, sitting Brytain on the top turnbuckle!)

OC: Caught!

CR: And this might not be where Brytain wants to be!

(Tommy hits a stiff forearm for good measure and Brytain reels. He climbs up onto the second rope– but Brytain nails a stiff forearm of her own to the bridge of the nose, followed by a second, then a third, which sends a sickening shot echoing throughout the Luxor!)

OC: Holy…

CR: Good lord!

OC: His face!

(Tommy Evans falls off, bouncing to the center of the ring… and Brytain stands atop the turnbuckle before running across the top rope like a tightrope and leaping off, planting Evans with a Spike Tornado DDT! Evans performs the equivalent to a headstand for nearly two seconds before falling onto his back, motionless. The audience roars in approval and Rollins crawls into the cover!)

CR: Panic Switch! And the cover!

(Caldwell counts!

ONE
.
.
.
.
TWO
.
.
.
.
THRE-!)

OC: The kid gets the shoulder up!

(The audience roars and Rollins sits upright, favoring her right arm. She rolls to her feet and delivers a hard stomp to the gut of Tommy Evans before forcing him up to his knees in a front facelock. She grunts out in agony, using all of her strength to force him up to his feet as he resists in– and Rollins nails the Flatliner! Tommy rolls onto his back, groaning in agony and Rollins slides out to the apron, nodding to the audience which grows increasingly louder. She ascends to the top turnbuckle and stands upright.)

OC: Thrillkiller!

(Rollins sails off of the top turnbuckle for a high-angle Senton Bomb and connects…

…with the arched knees of Tommy Evans!)

CR: No! Countered! Tommy Evans got the knees up and Rollins just connected spine-first!

(Brytain cries out in agony, on her knees for a few seconds, but she shakily reaches her feet as Tommy uses the ropes to pull himself up behind her. Brytain turns around– and Evans blasts her with the Superkick before falling on top of her into the cover!)

CR: Warning Shot!

(Caldwell drops down to make the cover and the audience counts along with her!

ONE
.
.
.
.
TWO
.
.
.
.
THRE-!)

OC: Brytain kicked out!

CR: The match continues and Tommy Evans is having to work just as hard in his singles re-debut as Rollins did!

OC: Maybe harder!

”THIS IS AWESOME!”

”THIS IS AWESOME!”

”THIS IS AWESOME!”

(Evans sits up on his elbows and knees, catching his breath for a second before observing Rollins rolling onto her stomach. Tommy pushes himself upright and locks the leg of Rollins, turning his back to her before bridging back despite his exhaustion– and locking his arms around her neck to complete the Muta Lock to a roar from the audience! Rollins cries out in agony and Caldwell gets into position to call the submission!)

CR: What is– Tommy Evans has the Muta Lock applied to Brytain Rollins!

OC: I’ll be damned! He barely has the coordination to tie his shoes; how’s he pulling this off?

(Many in the audience scream for Rollins, while an equal amount support Evans, a bit even screaming ”TAP!” Rollins is shaking from the pain, but pulls herself, slowly but surely to the ropes, reaching out… falling just inches short.)

CR: I don’t know how long she can stay in this…

(Rollins struggles, her eyes growing bloodshot as she fights for air– and finally grabs the bottom rope, to an applause from the Luxor! Caldwell cautions Tommy and he rolls off, releasing Rollins without much hesitation, sitting on his knees to catch his own breath. He nods to himself, walking himself to the ropes on his knees to pull himself up once more. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Rollins pulls herself up behind him, and Tommy stomps his foot on the ground, just once, bracing himself as they both turn to face each other.)

OC: Here it is!

(Evans leaps up for the Flying Head Kick, but Rollins just barely steps out of the way, avoiding contact by millimeters!)

OC: Did he get her?!

CR: No! Evans didn’t connect with Brain Damage!

(Evans turns as Rollins rushes him, leaping up to drive the point of her knee into his jaw out of desperation! Evans hits the ground, and a groggy, clearly-hurt Rollins, half-runs, half-crawls to the ropes, going out to the apron before ascending the turnbuckles once again!)

CR: It wasn’t pretty, but that high knee was effective. And now she’s going for it again!

(Rollins perches on the top, taking a deep breath… and leaps off, connecting with the High Angle Senton Bomb across the sternum of Evans! She rolls off, holding her arm again after the impact, before flopping back down into the cover, hooking the near leg!)

CR: The Thrillkiller connects!

(ONE
.
.
.
.
TWO
.
.
.
.
THREE!

Caldwell signals for the bell and the audience applauds the action.)

GC: Here is your winner… BRYYTTAAAIIINNN ROLLLLIIINS!

(“King of the World” hits the PA system and Rollins gingerly rises to her feet. Caldwell goes to raise her right arm, but Rollins mutters something to her. Caldwell moves to the side and raises her left arm instead to signify victory.)

OC: Court, that was a hell of an opening match. The kid’s an idiot, for sure, but I’m entertained.

CR: You are. And so are these fans.

(As Tommy Evans backs up the ramp, hands over his ribs, the Las Vegas audience gives the two competitors a standing ovation for their efforts. Rollins leans against the ropes, looking at Tommy, who gives her a nod in response and short bit of applause before turning, making his way to the back.)

OC: Now, Court, if you’re Chris Strike and you’re watching how Brytain Rollins just competed, how are you feeling?

CR: Good question, Oscar. Ask me again later. Impressive work by Brytain Rollins here in our opening match, but hats off to Tommy Evans, who defied expectations once again here tonight.

(We fade away on the image of Brytain Rollins exiting the ring while her music continues to play.)

WINNER: BRYTAIN ROLLINS

 

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Our cameras slowly fade into the backstage area and the Luxor roars in approval as we’re introduced to the image of the SCW Tag Team Champions, Tarja and Don God of the Four Kings. Tarja is seated, cross-legged on a leather love-seat in the room, typing away on her phone while Don makes his way back and forth throughout the room, pacing, slowly applying black wrist tape as he does so.)

DG: Nothing we’ve forgotten, right? Nothing we’ve glossed over…

(Tarja looks up from her phone, shifting in the seat a bit.)

T: Like what?

DG: I’m not sure. Suppose it’s why I asked. It’s a different kind of challenge; Jacobs, Norcia… and I’d rather avoid risk for as long as possible.

(She smirks a little, her eyes drifting back to her screen.)

T: Sounds like someone’s already psyched out.

(Don scoffs, lowering his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists to get a feel for the tape.)

DG: Not quite that. Just… hm. When given the opportunity to upstage the champion and the arguable face of Sin City, then take it, yes?

(Tarja opens her mouth to respond, but both Kings quickly turn their attention to something out of frame as we hear a SLAM! and a familiar reverberation… and the sound is confirmed as our cameras pan over to reveal the grinning face of Evan Envi, leaning against the Kings’ doorway, green-smoothie in hand as he observes the room.)

EE: Cannnnnn you feel it, Kings? Hm?

(The audience boos loudly as Evan casually saunters in the room, his eyes lighting up as he looks at the Tag Team Championships that rest next to Tarja on the loveseat. He makes his way over to them, picking one of the belts up, holding it before him as he observes it.)

EE: Wahoowww, you guys! Look at these, huh? Can you believe how long it’s been since I’ve even put my hands on one of these things?

(Tarja reaches up and snatches the championship back, shooting her cousin an unimpressed look out of the side of her eye.)

T: What do you want?

EE: Nothin’! Just uh… just keeping you guys some company, y’know. I know how monotonous it can get, being the two of you, being all brooding and dark and hipster and all that jazzy stuff that you totally are. And don’t try to tell me you’re not hipsters– you come out to the Smiths, ahaha, am I right?

(Evan laughs, looking between the two, but is met with cold, stoic stares instead. His laughter fades and instead, he clears his throat, shrugging a little.)

EE: Alright, hah… okay. So I see that you guys are busy, obviously, prepping for your biiiiig, big main event. And I dig it. Yo. I’m all about it. Four Kings versus Dexter Jacobs and Michael Norcia?

(The audience pops at the prospect of the match as Evan continues.)

EE: That’s the kind of billing I should’ve come up with. You guys have the chance to do something incredible and prove that you’re the power players in the Sureshot Ladder match at Cancun Clash. Prove that you are the undisputed future of the company and the business, man, yes. How cool would that be, ah? Ah?

(Don narrows his eyes at Envi. Tarja sighs.)

T: Does this have a point?

DG: I reckon he’s hiding.

(Tarja smirks.)

T: I think you’re right.

(Evan scoffs and dismissively waves the two off.)

EE: No– no, no! Look, if this is about Lucy, you two have it all wrong. SO wrong. Lucy and I had a little scuffle last week, but we’re good. We’re cool now. I apologized to her via song and our relationship is uh… it’s on the incline.

T: So. You’re not afraid of Sensei Lucy…

EE: Dude, no!

(Don and Tarja look toward each other and nod. Don reaches down and picks up his tag team title as Tarja joins him on their feet.)

DG: Then you understand.

(Evan’s eyes grow a bit wide.)

EE: Understand what?

(Tarja and Don make their ways toward the door as Evan turns, his eyes following them, his face growing pale.)

DG: We have to find a quiet place to prepare. Less distractions. You’ll be fine on your own, I’m sure.

T: You’re so brave, cuz.

EE: Bu–

T: Later.

(Tarja gives Evan a wink and a rather rough punch in the shoulder before she and Don make their way out of the room to a pop from the crowd. Evan looks around the room, shifting uncomfortably… before closing the door behind the two as he exits and locking it. He mutters under his breath, making his way to the love seat, grumbling as we fade away.)

OC: Court, why are you smiling?!

CR: Nothing. We’ll be back!

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(Backstage, there’s a flash of incredibly pink hair in loose curls and the camera focuses on Brytain Rollins. She looks exhausted from her match with Tommy Evans, hair mussed and damp as it hangs down her back and she saunters tiredly over a vending machine for a bottle of water.

Another figure rounds the corner and stops, sauntering a little closer and the camera swings over to reveal Chris Strike. Maybe it’s the change in the air or the feeling of his yes burning holes in her, but Rollins turns slowly and the two lock eyes.)

BR: Don’t make me wait…

(The words are accompanied by a smirk and a laugh.)

BR: Just fucking c’mon already.

(Anger flashes in Strike’s eyes and seizes a ladder propped up against the wall next to him. He wields it like a battering ram as he charges her and she just barely manages to sidestep the attack. She’s not as quick as she would have been before her match though and she’s not quick enough to sidestep when Strike swings the ladder back and catches her in the mouth with it.

She lets out a soft grunt of pain, teeth stained with blood as she reaches out to grab hold of the unwieldy weapon. He’s able to shake her off after a few minutes with a boot to the gut that sends her crashing back against a wall and sliding down it until she’s in a very vulnerable position against the armed man.

He steps forward and fires off another kick, this time to the rib cage, knocking the air out of her as he pins her to the wall with a boot in the ribs and brings the ladder down once, then once more, on her formerly broken right arm. The veteran zeros in on the weakness, raising the ladder up for a third blow until he hears the commotion behind him.

He drops the ladder and turns his back to walk away before anyone but the camera can catch sight of him while Rollins manages a choking laugh behind him, blood staining her teeth.)

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Tatsumi Takaguchi vs Guy Brody w/Blake Ashton & Jaelyn Rose

GC: This next bout is set for one fall! Introducing first …

(The lights dim. Traditional Japanese shamisens resonate throughout the arena. Fireworks pop on the stage causing the soothing music to transition into uplifting and loud J-Pop rock. Tatsumich Takaguchi steps onto the ramp, his face is grim with determination.)

GC: From Kyoto, Japan, and weighing in at 225 pounds, he is Tatsumi Takaguchi!

CR: Tatsumi Takaguchi looked like a force to be reckoned with last week, before outside interference allowed Famularo to steal a pin from him. He can’t look past Guy Brody to her though, because that numbers game of Quid YOLO is a real problem.

OC: Hop off his nuts, I agree with Baelyn, he might have some talent and kick hard but he’s nothing unique.

CR: And you realize you’re almost always wrong about these things, right?

(He walks pridefully to the ring, ignoring the outstretched hands of the fans. He reaches the ring and grabs the middle rope. He pulls his impressive frame onto the ring map and steps in between the middle and top rope. Takaguchi remains stands straight faced and stoic in the ring for his opponent to appear.)

GC: His opponent …

JR:LADIES AND GENTLEMEN CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!!!???

(A groan echoes out throughout the stands.)

CR: Oh damnit, I thought Whiskey broke that thing.

(Jaelyn Rose steps out into view, holding a brand new megaphone to her lips; one that appears to have been specially reinforced.)

JR:YES I GOT A NEW MEGAPHONE!!! IT’S NOT HARD TO BUY A NEW ONE!!! NOW, INTRODUCING THE MAN WHO WILL MOST DEFINITELY GET THE DAMN JOB DONE FOR ONCE … FROM PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA, WEIGHING IN AT A SCULPTED 237 POUNDS, HE IS ONE HALF OF QUID YOLO … GUUUYYY BROOOODDDYYYY!!!

(She whirls around, and points behind her as “Tonight (I’m Lovin’ You)” blares over the Luxor sound system. The fans boos intensify as Guy Brody makes his way out, finishing the last remnants of a protein shake before tossing the mixer cup into the crowd and giving one solitary fist pump as an animated Blake Ashton emerges seconds later.)

OC: Alright! It’s time for Ticky Tacky to get BUTT SLAMMED!

CR: And here I was hoping that maybe they had been knocked down a peg.

(The trio make their way down to the ring, and with a gesture of Jaelyn’s arm, the two wrestlers hop up onto the ring apron before slingshotting themselves over the top rope and into the ring. They share a fist bump before Ashton joins his manager at ringside, and Brody takes his corner.)

OC: They’re totally refocused, when has Guy had a protein shake right before his match like that before!?

CR: …

(Carrie Caldwell calls for the bell, and the wrestlers circle. Takaguchi gets off some leg kicks which initially keep Brody at bay, buckling his legs. An attempt to deliver a kick to the body gets there too late, and he is smashed right in the jaw with a big forearm shot from the Quid YOLO member. It snaps his head back, and Brody then performs a high angle double leg takedown, slamming him to the mat.)

JR:THERE YOU GO GUY BRODY!!! BEAUTIFUL, DON’T LET UP! IMPOSE YOUR WILL ON HIM!

(Brody drops heavy hammerfists, and punches from the guard before posturing back up, slipping to the side and delivering a standing fist drop. As Takaguchi stands back up holding his mouth, Guy delivers a hard scoop slam which causes him to arch his back in pain. Blake Ashton does a leaping fist pump in celebration, while Jaelyn yells out.)

JR:THAT’S IT! HE’S GOT NOTHING FOR YOU, GUY BRODY!!!

CR: Ugh, will someone shut her up.

JR:AND GET THAT HOPEFUL LOOK OFF YOUR FACE, REYNOLDS; THIS BITCH IS PLATED IN TITANIUM!!!

OC: Yeah, Court!

(Guy Brody hops up to the second rope, and then drops a diving fist onto Takaguchi’s face. He quickly covers, hooking the far leg.

One …

Two …

Takaguchi kicks out.)

OC: Picture perfect form!

(As Takaguchi rolls back to the corner to gain some reprieve, Brody circles back before charging at him. Takaguchi gets the knees up, and Guy stumbles backwards before running back at him, and into a back elbow counter. He then backpedals, holding his jaw as his legs start wobbling, before being knocked down with a short arm clothesline from Takaguchi.)

JR:STAY AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS!!! LIGHT ON YOUR FEET GUY BRODY!!!

(He gets knocked down with a second clothesline, before Takaguchi takes a half step back, and then goes for a high roundhouse kick as Brody gets back up. He ducks under it, and as Takaguchi whirls around, he plants the SCW newcomer with a hard thrust spinebuster that quells any momentum he had going!)

JR:BEAUTIFUL, GUY BRODY, BEAUTIFUL; NICE AND FLOWY!!!

OC: Splatted! He dead!

CR: Is she contractually obligated to only call him by his full name?

OC: Quit snarking, and call the match!

(Keeping focused on his opponent, Guy Brody pumps his fist before motioning him up. He waits for Takaguchi to stumble up, then plants him with his blue thunder bomb, the Bro Thunder Bomb, into the pin!

One …

Two …

Three!!!)

JR:THE WINNER OF THAT MATCH IN EMPHATIC FASHION, GUUUUYYYY BROOOODY!!!

CR: Wow, I uh, was not expecting that. I thought Takaguchi showed a lot of promise last week. Maybe he was hurt worse than he let on from that caning he took from Famularo?

OC: Excuses, excuses! The fact of the matter is Jaelyn Rose said she was insulted that this match was made, she said Guy Brody was gonna wipe the mat with this guy, and he did just that!

(Quid YOLO’s music hits again to a chorus of boos, as Jaelyn makes sure to get her hand raised alongside Brody, as Blake Ashton excitedly cheerleads them on. She spots Takaguchi slowly rising up out of the corner of her eye, and drills him in the head with her megaphone! The music immediately cuts out, and the boos intensify.)

CR: Oh. come on!

(She starts barking orders, directing traffic for her charges, having Guy Brody prop Takaguchi up so he can get driven into the megaphone which rests on the mat with an Ash Blaster scissors kick by Blake Ahston! She then has Brody drag his limp body back up, holding him in a rear waistlock. Ashton hits the ropes with a springboard roundhouse kick, assisting a German suplex by Brody to complete their double team maneuver Bromento Mori- the only difference being that Jaelyn delivers a mighty uppercut swing of the specially reinforced megaphone, smashing it into the back of Takaguchi’s head!)

CR: How is any of this necessary? They made their point already!

OC: Obviously they didn’t, given you were still making excuses to discredit them!

(The crowd’s negativity has escalated as Jaelyn heads to the corner, and climbs up top, while Takaguchi’s body slumps to the mat.

YOU SUCK!

YOU SUCK!

She perches up top, soaking in the reaction and then leaps off, delivering a 450 knee drop which drives the point of her knee crashing down onto the defenseless face of Tatsumi Takaguchi. He immediately rolls over after the impact, so we’re unable to see the exact extent of the damge done. The cameras quickly cut away from him to Rose, who rolls back to her feet and performs a curtsy. She then turns to the announce desk, points, and starts yelling “This one’s on you Reynolds! I heard your little dismissive comment there at the end! Talk some more about how great Takaguchi is, please!”)

OC: See, I told you!

CR: I, Takaguchi needs medical attention right now, and she’s trying to blame me for her being an awful human being. This is just ridiculous; he’s obviously going to have to get tended to, we’ll be right back everyone.

WINNER: GUY BRODY

 

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(Backstage, the camera pans over to where Brytain Rollins is leaning against a wall, hands on her knees as she bends over and struggles to suck in a few deep breaths despite the pain. Through it all, she laughs softly to herself. The sound of her laughter is a glaring juxtaposition to the bloody film covering her teeth and dripping down her chin from the split lip Chris Strike’s ladder had given her.

She holds her right arm carefully against her ribs, the recently broken limb having been the recipient of two blows from the ladder by a man who knew how to target any weak spots. )

V: Well… this is not good.

(The camera swings to find V walking down the hall in her direction, in ring gear and taped up with a plain black t-shirt thrown over it. He crouches down a few feet away, looking at her war wounds with concern underwriting lightheartedness, neither seemingly artificial.)

V: Caught you in the wake of a tiff? Who was it, Strike or somebody else?

(Brytain laughs, raising her head to look up at him as she grins slightly with bloody teeth.)

BR: Strike. Found his balls, so… good on him?

(He actually grins enough that teeth show a little in turn, shaking his head.)

V: Well then. Prettyboy’s nuts finally dropped. You need a hand up to get to the med bay? Good hand I mean, not… yeah. And don’t even give me that look, I know where that laughing shit comes from, but Unacknowledged Injury Brytain isn’t really the model I wanna meet in Cage of Death, right?

BR: Then fortunately you’ve got new and improved Completely Acknowledges The Fact This Hurts Like A Bitch Brytain. Lucky you.

(She slowly pushes herself off of the ground but doesn’t make it but a few inches, her balance thrown off by the ache in her ribs.)

BR: And I accept your hand since it looks like we’re playing knight in rusted armor today. As soon as I’m less bleed-y and ache-y I’ll make sure to swoon for you. My hero.

(Her eyes light up in amusement despite the pain, her tone teasing and light but with a slight undercurrent of something else to it. He, in turn, snickers under his breath.)

V: Don’t make me scoop you up and carry you, now. I know that routine, too. Riding the helpless maiden to safety… then she makes off in the middle of the night with your woman and your best horse.

(He stands up, the motion not very limber either, offering his hand opposite Brytain’s good arm to boost up with. She reaches out and takes his hand. dragging herself to her feet with his help. She coughs a little, rotating her right arm as she covertly makes sure Strike hasn’t broken it again.)

BR: Says something that he needs to try to break my arm before Cancun Clash, maybe.

V: He’s getting sly on you. Maybe it’s a good warmup for a pro at it. See, that’s still stupid if he thought you’d get it x-rayed, unless he’s totally chickenshitting out of the match. Your stubbornness come back to bite you, maybe?

(His voice goes a little unsteady at the end, tilting his head and looking at something on her neck the cameras aren’t making out from their pulled-back spying distance.)

V: Or something.

(She catches the hitch in his voice and turns to look up at him curiously . As she works to figure out his reaction, a smirk tilts her lips.)

BR: Things have a tendency to come back and bite me, true.

V: … so I see…

(He straightens, looking a little bit disconcerted, though not angry.)

V: You need a Strike bodyguard on the way to med, or nah?

(She shakes her head, the curious look on her face intensifying as she arches an eyebrow in silent question at the off-ness of him at the moment.)

BR: Nah, I’ve had worse. Will probably have worse again. And you have a match to get ready for, so… I’d wish you luck but you know, he’d brood about it in the parlor for hours since I didn’t wish him luck too.

(With a faint shrug and a final curious look, she pushes away from him and takes a few steps in the direction of the hallway leading to medical.)

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(All of the arena lights suddenly go dark. Green spotlights blast the stage as a small group of live tribal drummers comes out and starts to play. The drummers line the entrance in short lines of five on each side. More green lights begin to flash on and around the video screen as the camera moves in past the drummers and closer to the entrance. The messenger, Navis, emerges dressed in a long, green robe with golden stars all over it. He is carrying a large golden scroll, just like last week. Navis is flanked by 6 female dancers in green & black face paint and grass skirts. They take positions along the entrance ramp, dancing amongst the drummers as Navis stands at the top of the ramp and looks straight ahead at the ring. The crowd is unsure how to respond to his presence. They look on with curiosity as the drummers play louder and louder.

Behind Navis enter two large men in black suits and ties carrying a glass case gilded in gold. Inside the glass is a green mask with black stripes and gold trim. They carry the case in tandem all the way down to the ring as Navis, the drummers, and the dancers all follow in respectful procession. They all enter the ring. The two men in suits hold the case in the middle of the ring. Navis stands directly behind the caged mask as the dancers and drummers stand around them. The drumming comes to a stop as Navis unfurls the golden scroll and reads a prepared statement.)

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Navis: The time has come. This Purification Ceremony will end with the official masking of Green Thunder, thus marking the beginning of his fighting career. All of us here in this arena, and indeed SCW at large, are privileged to be part of this grand event. Without further delay, please welcome Green Thunder!

OC: These dudes are weirding me out, how much of our production budget are we wasting on this?

CR: Shhhh.

(Everyone’s attention moves to the entranceway. The arena goes dark. Green spotlights rush the stage as a man in a large black robe comes out. An oversized hood is draped over his head and his face is in shadow. He walks slowly down the ramp alone as onlookers try to get a glimpse of his face under the hood. The robed man walks up the steps. He wipes his feet respectfully before stepping into the ring where he’s welcomed by Navis, the dancers, the drummers, and the keepers of his mask. He stands in the middle of the ring as the drumming changes to a much slower beat. The dancers form a circle around the man. They perform a tribal dance that involves tossing orchids at his feet and fanning him with paper fans. The lights dance along, changing color and swirling over the ring. When the drumming stops, the lights settle again on green and the dancers remain in a circle around the man. He kneels in the middle of the ring and the men in suits open the top of the glass case containing the mask. A dancer removes the mask from the case and brings it into the circle. Smoke begins to leak into the ring from under the apron, filling it completely. When the smoke clears, they all step away from him, the black robe is gone, and Green Thunder is finally in his ring gear in front of the crowd for the very first time.

Thunder is wearing green tights with black tiger stripes and gold trim. He has white boots, green sleeves, and that mask we’ve come to know with black stripes and gold trim with the eyes blocked out in silver. The men in suits carry the empty case out of the ring and out of the arena. Navis refers once again to the scroll.)

Navis: I now present to you SCW’s newest fighter, the man now known as Green Thunder!!!

(Thunder holds his arms out wide to accept whatever the crowd has to give him. Confused as to his actual intentions, the audience mumbles loudly but with no defined, unified response. Thunder cocks his head in apparent confusion. He then turns to Navis aggressively and barks at him.)

Green Thunder: The thunder is here!

(Thunder grabs Navis in a front waistlock and throws him with an overhead release belly-to-belly suplex that sends him flying upside down into a few of the tribal drummers in the ring! The dancers flee the ring and the drummers scramble to ringside. Navis lays on the mat as Thunder steps to him and pulls him up by the hair. Thunder whips him off the ropes and does a hurricanrana that flips Navis onto his head! Another sudden front waistlock and Navis is quickly upended and hurled over the top rope to ringside! He crashes onto a bunch of drummers on the floor! Thunder is not finished yet.)

CR: What the ….

OC: Okay, now I like this guy!

(Thunder runs the far ropes and comes charging back with a suicide dive that sends him flying head first into the small crowd of what we can now assume are ‘former’ supporters. He makes contact mainly with Navis, who is confused and damaged by the ongoing attack. The drummers depart ringside leaving Navis alone with Green Thunder. Thunder rolls Navis back into the ring and follows in behind him. He ducks low in the corner, stalking Navis as he slowly gets to his feet. Thunder steps in behind Navis and hits him with a Backstabber to the neck!! Navis rolls onto his front, clutching his neck. Without wasting another beat, Thunder heads topside, mounting the ropes and sizing up his former messenger. Thunder comes shooting down from the heavens with a violent knee drop to the back of the neck!!! Navis stops moving altogether now as Green Thunder stands over him in the middle of the ring.

Thunder grabs at his own face and pokes his fingers through the silver eyeholes. He rips the mask clean off his own head to reveal that he truly isn’t who we were told he was. With the shredded remnants of the green mask in his hands, he finds the centre camera and glares into it.)

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Unmasked Man: Maybe you know my face; perhaps not so much. Like me or don’t. Care or don’t. Flee or don’t. Fine by me. But at the very least, know that I’m Smith Jones and whether or not my tattered name precedes me…

(Jones steps forward towards the main camera, bathed now in pure white spotlights. His icy blue eyes pierce deep into the lens.)

SJ: …I’m right here …and so it shall begin.

(With the crowd buzzing from the events that have just transpired, we cut to a commercial break.)

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<><><>

(We cut to the backstage area, showing the outside of the Four Kings’ locker-room door to a pop! The door is cracked open just a bit before being pulled open… only for none other than Evan Envi to poke his head out into the corridor. Immediately, cheers are replaced with jeers. Evan Envi looks both ways before stepping cautiously out of the locker-room and quickly making his way down the hall.)

??: Hey, Evan–

EE: OH MMMMY GOD!

(Evan throws himself back, placing his spine flat against the wall. Madison Quin stands in front of him, eyes wide for just a moment– but she quickly regains composure and raises her microphone.)

MQ: I–

EE: I don’t know you!

(Evan gives Madison a weird look and turns, power-walking away from her as quickly as his legs will allow. He sighs, pausing before he rounds a corner, murmuring under his breath, looking behind him each step of the way– until finally, he spots something ahead of him that the camera can’t quite pick up yet!)

EE: XAVIER! Where the heck have you been?!

(The audience responds with a loud chorus of boos as the cameras skirt past Evan, revealing “YOUR Favorite Drug” Xavier Laroux.An oh so arrogant smirk plastered to his face, eyes half closed, and decked out in his Sunday best white tanktop and torn up blue denim jeans.)

XL: I had..a thing..yeah..over at the hotel ‘cross the street. The question is..where have you been?

(Evan furrows his brow at the response, but shakes his head as if dismissing whatever negative response crossed his mind.)

EE: Look– whatever. Dude. I’m not gonna lie, alright? I need you right now. I’m dying here.

XL: Look at me.

(Xavier reaches up with both hands, placing them on Evan’s cheeks.)

XL: Relax. I’m here now. What’s the problem?

EE: I know she’s here. I feel it. I feel her, like… sitting here or… standing here somewhere, watching.

(He shakes his head, his lips curled into a full frown.)

EE: I can’t live like this, dude. I can’t keep hiding in strange locker-rooms and– and looking around every corner before I cross halls, and like– and I can’t keep WONDERING where you are, man! I need you during times like these! Okay?! I need you, and I need you focused. On your toes. All the time. All of the times!

(He sighs, rubbing at his eyes for a moment before shaking his head.)

EE: She’s crazy! I tried to deny it to myself, Xavier, but Lucy is insane and I can’t be alone in this place while she’s lurking around, man. I don’t have a plan.

(Xavier looks at Evan for a moment, taking a moment to let it all soak in.)

XL: I got you. From here on out, Ima be with you 21/6. We gonna be like..Sigfried and Roy..uhh..like Fred and Barney. What’s this bitch doin’ to ya?

(Laroux shrugs his shoulders.)

XL: I’ll punch her in snook, I don’t give a fuck.

EE: Language, Xavier…

(Evan says it in a distant tone, turning a bit, beginning to walk back in the direction in which he came.)

XL: I get carried away.

EE: I don’t know what she’s doing to me. That’s… she’s up in my brain, man. Let’s just go back to the locker r– GASP!

(Xavier’s eyes shoot open after that gasp as he jerks around, looking until his eyes finally settle on what Evan sees.)

XL: WHAT?

EE: SHE’S BEEN HERE!

XL: WHAT?!

(Our cameras race to catch up with Evan Envi as he freezes in the Four Kings’ abandoned locker-room… and the audience erupts into applause as we see that the only thing that has been touched in the room is the wall, which now bears an enormous, body-sized poster, displaying mountains upon mountains of fried chicken.)

XL: …that sick bitch…

(Evan falls to a knee, eyes swelling with tears.)

EE: I LEFT IT UNATTENDED! HOW UNCHARACTERISTICALLY SHORTSIGHTED OF ME!

(Evan rises up and takes a wide step back, as if afraid to even be in the same room with the tainted chicken poster. Slamming the door shut, stepping out into the corridor, he whips his head toward Xavier and sighs.)

EE: We’ll have to find us a closet then.

(Xavier nods in total agreement before suddenly stopping, angling his head to the side, looking to Evan with a considerable amount of confusion.)

XL: ..like a closetcloset?

(Xavier shakes his head, patting Evan on the shoulder.)

XL: Nah, forget that. We gonna go get some drink or whatever from catering and everything is gonna be okay. We got this.

(Evan nods, unsurely at first– but then nods really, really quickly, looking back at Xavier.)

EE: Yeah, man. That sounds good. Maybe some organic two-percent. That’d really take the edge off.

(Another slight tilt of the head from Xavier as he just nods his head.)

XL: That’s just what the doctor ordered. Enougha that stuff and she’ll be the one lookin’ for a closet to hide in.

(Evan turns to follow Laroux– but stops again, as he bumps into the figure of a still-shirtless Tommy Evans, who looks to be freshly showered after his opening match. Still moving gingerly, he places a fist on Evan’s shoulder.)

TE: Am I still pretty?

EE: You got all your teeth, Thomas. It’s all we can ask of you. Now if you’ll excuse us–

TE: Where you going?

EE: We’re j–

TE: You wanna hang out?

(Xavier blinks hard, opening his mouth as if to retort, but Evan raises a hand and shakes his head a little, prompting Xavier to narrow his eyes at Tommy, though he says nothing. Evan sighs.)

EE: Look. Man. I appreciate your energy and zest for life, but I’m being hunted by a kosher killer right now and I REALLY just need some soymilk, and–

TE: Okay, but remember that one time I superkicked a door to save your life? It’s not my fault you were already unconscious.

(Xavier continues to glare ahead at Tommy, but Evan looks down, a blank stare becoming a brief, thoughtful look of recollection. Regardless, neither man responds to Tommy.)

TE: Fiiiiine. But remember… I hate her too.

(He pats Evan on the shoulder, moving directly in front of Xavier, whom he stares at for an uncomfortable moment, before patting him on the cheek and moving down the hallway. Xavier grunts, wiping the feeling away from his cheek as Tommy walks away. Evan scratches the back of his neck for a moment, still standing there, pondering, before walking off with Xavier. We fade to black.)

<><><>

Tabula Rasa vs V

GC: This next bout is set for one fall! Introducing first …

(Red lighting blooms through the arena, bleeding in to mute all other colors. A woman’s mournful voice sings out–)

Dark twisted fantasy, turned into reality
Kissing death and losing my breath…

GC: Accompanied by “The Red Queen” Angelica Lombard. From Manhattan, New York, weighing in at 165 pounds, this is Tabula Rasa!!!

(Flame pyro arcs up silently on each end of the stage and Angelica walks between the pillars, Tabula Rasa’s face underlit behind her for just a second before it dies.)

Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone
Let her find a way to a better place

(She pauses for a moment at the top of the ramp, appraising the crowd with a faint sneer and letting Freddie meet her. They walk down to the ring, not reacting at all to the boos and jeers, unrushed. Angelica leads the way up the ring steps, holding the top and middle ropes apart for Freddie to climb in the ring. She stays on the apron, he walks to the far ropes and steps up to the middle one, leaning over and looking out without a smile for a moment.)

Broken dreams and silent screams
Empty churches with soulless curses
We found a way to escape the day.

(He returns to his corner where she waits, leaning back, seemingly ignoring the goingson.)

GC: His opponent …

(The lights go down as the opening riff of Alice in Chains’ “Phantom Limb” breaks through the arena, the crowd raising to its feet in anticipation. As the main drums crash down platinum floodlights invade, and after a few moments of distilling everyone’s attention the light contains itself to the stage and entrance ramp.)

GC: Accompanied by Shane Sanders! From New York, New York, weighing in at 239 pounds, he is … “The Nameless” V!!!

(V steps into the circle of stage light, shoulders tense and head slightly bowed, then raising to look out at the audience slowly. He simply stands for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching, as Shane Sanders steps out into the light with him. Finally he rolls out his wrists and neck and they walk side-by-side directly for the ring with a ready-for-business stride. He circles three-quarters of the way around the ring, pushing up on the apron with one knee, Shane standing on the floor near him, and pauses kneeling to look to the camera for the first time, breaking a faint grin and then scanning the fans, shouting out to the people in the front row.

He stands, stepping into the ring quickly, crossing it and raising his hands for a moment before finally stepping to the center of the ring arms crossed, waiting.)

CR: Carrie Caldwell is calling for the bell, and even as we start things off, I have to wonder what kind of physical shape we’re gonna see V in tonight.

OC: You’re ALREADY making excuses and they haven’t even locked up yet! He looks fine!

CR: V is a wonderful wrestling veteran and I’m certain he could put on just as good a poker-face as anyone when it comes to things like that. It’s one of those questions that’ll have to be answered throughout the course of the match.

OC: Excuses. Go Freddie!

(The bell sounds and Tabula Rasa is quick to initiate a lockup. V almost looks amused by the proposition– but seems hardly surprised as he steps forward, and Rasa delivers a stomp to the gut. He goes for a second, but V counters and blasts the smaller opponent with a right hand! Rasa rolls back across the mat, pushing himself back up to his feet with a challenging smirk toward V.)

CR: Lombard’s the quicker of the two here, but there’s no excuse to count out the former SCW Vegas Champion, V.

(Rasa charges at V, going low and V immediately goes to cut him off with a back elbow, but Rasa ducks beneath his arm and shoots the ropes, rebounding with a Dropkick that knocks V into the ropes– but as Rasa reaches his feet, V is able to respond with a Discus Lariat, earning a pop from the Luxor!)

CR: And that didn’t go quite the route Tabula Rasa was hoping!

(Tabula clutches his sternum as he pulls himself up. V delivers a stomp to his gut and a Snap Suplex, before rolling him to his feet and nailing a rough double-underhook Suplex as well! V rolls over into a cover, pinning Rasa’s shoulders to the mat!

ONE
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TWO
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Kickout!)

OC: Get it together, Fred!

(V rises to a knee and the groggy Tabula Rasa stumbles to his feet, clearly out of sorts after the Suplexes. He turns around and swings at V for a hard Lariat, but V ducks his arm entirely, hoisting Rasa up from behind for a high-angle Back Suplex! Rasa rolls back onto his knees, crying out from the impact. V rolls to his feet and shoots the ropes as Rasa reaches his feet– nailing him with the Slingblade! Rasa cries out again and V hooks both legs! Caldwell makes the count!

ONE
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TWO
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TH– kickout!)

CR: And again, Tabula Rasa gets the shoulder up, but it’s V– even after that sickening assault at the hands of Sandy Makel at Jackpot– maintaining the upperhand and dictating the pace here.

OC: Oh, so now he’s like, Superman. Right? You just don’t quit, Court. You just don’t quit.

(A loud ”V!” chant has begun to engulf the Luxor. V backs into the corner again, waiting for Rasa to reach his feet. As he does, V applies the hammerlock and tries to twist Rasa around into a short-arm lariat, but Tabula Rasa wrenches his arm free and nails V with a Hangman’s Neckbreaker to a groan from the audience! V goes stiff but stands upright after the impact. Rasa shoots the ropes and rebounds, nailing an Enzuigiri! V hits the canvas and Rasa rolls him up for a pin!

ONE
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TWO
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Kickout!

V throws himself over his shoulder and back to his knee, but Rasa is up to his feet first and nails a sharp jab to the jaw, followed by a second, and finally a third which earns a scolding from Caldwell! V stands upright and goes to retaliate with a thunderous right hand– but Tabula ducks under him and shoots the ropes! As he rebounds, V delivers a head-drop Uranage!)

OC: GAAHHH!

CR: Uranage, and what a drop! Cover by V!

(V hooks the far leg and Caldwell slides into a count, in perfect position!

ONE
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TWO
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THR– kickout!)

CR: And it’s not enough, not yet!

(V shakes his head, pulling himself up again, though his movements have slowed considerably. Angelica watches from ringside, the camera focusing on her for the first time of the match, while V forces Tabula Rasa up in the front facelock position and pulls him to the center of the ring. He lifts him up for a Vertical Suplex– but Tabula contorts himself in midair to land behind V on his feet, hooking the leg to nail a vicious Russian Leg Sweep! Tabula rolls through the move and up to his feet, leaning against the ropes for support for a moment before stepping out to the apron and ascending the turnbuckles, heading to the top.)

OC: This could be extremely hit-or-miss…

(As V rises to his feet, Tabula Rasa sails through the air, nailing a pair of double-knees to the shoulders, driving V spine-first to the mat! V cries out in pain and Tabula rolls over him, clear to the turnbuckles on the other side of the ring! Not skipping a beat, Tabula ascends those turnbuckles as well! V reaches his feet and Tabula performs a Corkscrew Moonsault, taking him to the mat!)

OC: YOU’RE ON FIRE, FRED!

CR: Beautiful series and a cover by Tabula Rasa! V might not know what hit him yet!

(ONE
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TWO
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THR– kickout!

Tabula pulls himself up, eyes narrowed, a look of frustration finally crossing his face as he watches V pull himself up. He shoots the ropes and goes for a Bulldog– but V catches his much smaller opponent, and with a running start, launches Tabula into the turnbuckles! Tabula cries out in pain, hitting them spine-first, but gets his leg caught, catching him in a Tree of Woe!)

OC: He’s stuck!

(Tabula tries to pull himself up and free his boot, but V grabs him in a straightjacket-esque hold from behind– and jumps up, nailing a Straightjacket Lungblower, ripping Tabula off of the turnbuckles and sending him flipping backwards into the center of the ring!)

CR: I think V just broke Tabula Rasa’s spine in two pieces! And this audience is behind him all the way!

(A ”V!” chant surges through the Luxor again, even louder than the one preceding it. He forces Tabula Rasa up into a modified side headlock, catching his own breath as he stands there, holding him in the center of the ring– before dropping him with the Backbreaker! Tabula rolls off of V and to the mat, pounding a fist into the ground in a mix of frustration and pain. He crawls forward, using the ropes to pull himself to his feet and turns around… getting caught on the shoulders of V, up into a Fireman’s Carry position!)

OC: Whoa!

CR: Here we go! Rexall!

(The audience roars in approval, but Tabula Rasa flails wildly, throwing hard elbows into the side of the head, until finally, V releases him! As Tabula drops beside V, he plants him with a Half Nelson Driver, earning a deep mixed reaction from the Luxor! V goes still and Tabula forces him onto his back, yelling for Caldwell to hurry as he hooks the far leg!)

OC: He planted V! This might be the end, Court! Note it in your diary!

(ONE
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TWO
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THRE- kickout!

The audience erupts with a cheer of approval and Tabula looks at Caldwell in shock– Angelica doing the same on the outside!)

CR: Not yet, Oscar!

(Tabula’s face is red and he shakes his head a little before throwing a heavy hand against the mat in frustration. He forces V up to his feet again… but once more, V lifts Tabula Rasa onto his shoulders!)

OC: AH! NO! REXALL!

(Again, though, Tabula drops down behind V, delivering a thunderous closed fist to his kidneys! V clenches his jaw in a silent, but visible pain. Rasa rushes forward and hops onto the middle rope– nailing a Springboard misdirection Roundhouse to the jaw!)

CR: Elizabeth Stride!

OC: Elizabeth Stride is right! Cover! Cover him!

(Tabula Rasa quickly crawls into the cover, hooking both legs, leaning far into it!

ONE
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THREE!

V throws his shoulder off the mat with emphasis, but Carrie Caldwell is already calling for the bell!)

OC: YEEESSSS!

CR: Oh, wow! Just when you think Tabula Rasa is down–

OC: I DON’T WANNA HEAR ANY EXCUSES, COURT!

(The bell sounds and Rasa rises to his feet, grinning while many in the Luxor stand stunned in attendance. V rises to a knee, looking at Rasa with a look that truly cannot be read as “Bones” hits the PA system. Caldwell raises Tabula’s hand in the air.)

GC: Your winner… TABULA RASA!

(V gives Rasa a very slow clap as Rasa smirks at him, stepping through the ropes, and dropping down to the floor. He never turns his back on V, backing up the ramp with a satisfied Angelica at his side.)

CR: I’m honestly surprised! Tabula Rasa is a great competitor, but maybe we can call that an upset. And this takes nothing from V. Battered and bruised when he arrived, he still–

OC: Oh, please! PUH-LEASE. I knew this was only a matter of time!

CR: …he still put forth a valiant effort. And that was a good display of sportsmanship at the end there. But somewhere, Sandy Makel has to be loving this.

OC: No doubt, Court. No doubt.

WINNER: TABULA RASA

<><><>

(Backstage, SCW/FLW interviewer Madison Quin is shuffling quickly across the floor in her high heels trying to catch up to someone who is quickly walking away from her, dragging a black wheelie bag behind him. She calls out.)

MQ: “Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones, may I have a word?”

(He stops and looks over his shoulder. It’s Smith Jones dressed in black jeans and a gray T-shirt that reads White Lightning on the front of it in black lettering. His body is still indicating a desire to keep walking, but with a camera and microphone chasing him down, he is strongly tempted to remain.)

SJ: “Please, Miss. So formal. Come now. Call me ‘Smith’. And you are…?”

MQ: “I’m Madison Quin.”

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(She extends her hand politely. Smith turns his body language completely towards her and leans in very close to her face. They share the same air for an uncomfortable beat before Smith takes her hand and slowly raises it to his face. He breathes on her skin as the muscles become tense and her flesh gets a little warmer in his grasp. He gently kisses the back of her wrist. She tries hard to remain polite and not pull away.)

SJ: “Enchanté, Madi. I’m in a bit of a rush at the moment, but seeing as you’re new here in SCW and I’m new here in SCW, it makes perfect sense that we should make the time to sit down and get… familiar with one another sometime, you and I.”

(Smith is still holding onto her hand.)

MQ: “Um… you mean like… a date? I don’t think…”

(Smith chuckles lightly, giving her no solace from his soft yet intense gaze.)

SJ: “No, sweetheart. Like… an interview. Unless you’d rather we went for sushi.”

(She shrinks a little in her high heels.)

MQ: “No. The interview would be great. Thank you, Mr… um… Smith.” She clears her throat and withdraws her hand. “Are you officially under contract with Sin City Wrestling, Smith?”

(Smith’s smile fades some, but he keeps his mood pleasant as he takes a deep breath and lets out a small sigh.)

SJ: “That’s a bit gray at this juncture. For now, this locker room doesn’t feel like the most welcoming environ for me. I’m gonna jet. I’ll be in touch and I will answer all of your questions, Madi. Until then, do me a favour? Be a doll and burn this for me?”

(He reaches down and slowly unzips the front pocket of his black wheelie bag. He pulls out the shredded remnants of the torn Green Thunder mask. Handing the mask to Madison with a wink, he walks out of frame. She looks at the tattered mask in her hand and shakes her head, embarrassed, confused, and a little offended. She shrugs to camera.)

MQ: “Let’s go back to ringside.”

<><><>

Jennifer Famularo vs Westley McFadden

GC: This next bout is set for one fall! Introducing first …

(Ante Up by MOP begins to blast across the speakers as it does that’s when we are treated to the sight of Jenny Famularo emerging through the back curtain wearing a black hooded cloak. She has an evil grin on her lips as her husband Xander emerges out next to her. She gives him a passionate kiss on the lips before she slowly makes her way down to the ring. She reaches at her side and pulls out a red painted kendo stick, and threatens to hit the fans with it which makes them boo her even more. She hands her kendo stick to Xander before she throws her cloak off showing her flawless white hoodie while wearing the trademark Williams colors of red and black underneath. )

GC: From The Bronx, New York this is “Darth Dream” Jennifer Famularo

OC: Here she comes, the undefeated one!

CR: She has two wins Oscar, which she’s used serious outside interference in, and you know she was in the Jackpot Rumble which she didn’t win.

OC: Um A. She got double crossed there and B. That was a thirty person match, you can hardly count it.

(She walks up the stairs and leap frogs over the ropes before she flips the crowd off. She takes in all the boos as she arrogantly begins to taunt the crowd. She takes her place in the corner as she slowly waits for the match to begin.)

GC: Her opponent …

(“Till I Collapse” by Eminem begins to play to the sold out arena. The music filsl the arena as Westley McFadden steps out onto the small stage. He pauses and cracks his taped knuckles before descending the ramp.)

GC: From Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing in at 192 pounds, Westley McFadden!!!

CR: Westley McFadden has made his goals clear, but he’s going to have to rediscover his old form to make that happen.

OC: Also, water is wet!

CR: I’m catching people up who might have missed anything, you ass.

(He slides beneath the bottom rope of the ring, walks to the nearest turnbuckle, and ascends the pole. On the middle pad, he bumps his chest in taunt with his fingertips before opening his arms to the crowd–accepting whatever reception they shower his way. He jumps down, turning back to wait for the match to start. As McFadden hops down, he’s immediately jumped by Jennifer Famularo, before the bell can even ring to start the match. She stomps, punches, and kicks away at him, before head ref THE BIG DOG pulls her off, giving her a stern talking to as the fans boo loudly. )

CR: Unbelievable, this woman really thinks the rules don’t apply to her, doesn’t she?

OC: I’d defend her, but I’m afraid BIG DOG might hear me, and she’s looking a little “burn down your house and run your cat over-y” right now.

(Following that tongue lashing, McFadden grimaces a bit, as he pulls himself up while motioning for the bell to ring to start the match. It does, and Famularo delivers a running dropkick backing him up into the corner. She circles back, going for another charging corner attack, but he explodes forward with a huge clothesline causing her to do a flip before violently landing on the mat! The crowd begin cheering him on as he drops down, and starts raining down foreram shots, and elbow strikes on her.)

CR: Now she’s set McFadden off, she’s made him go back to his fighting instincts, and I think that was a mistake on her part!

(Famularo frantically claws, and grabs upwards, raking his ear- anything to gain a tiny bit of reprieve so she can roll away. She does just that, and pulls herself up with the corner ring ropes, getting promptly greeted by a big corner clothesline from McFadden. He follows with a European uppercut, and as she staggers out of the corner, he peforms a northern lights suplex into a pin.

One …

Two …

She pops a shoulder up.)

OC: Attagirl, just survive and let him burn himself out!

(After the pin attempt, Jennifer’s husband jumps up onto the apron in an attempt to distract either McFadden or the official, and gets met with a big right cross from Westley that knocks him off! THE BIG DOG signals that he’s geting thrown out of ringside, much to his chagrin, and the fans’ delight.)

CR: Good, get him out of here!

(This, however serves as enough of a distraction for Jennifer to roll up Westley up with a schoolgirl pin attempt.

One …

Two …

He kicks out, rolls up and gets caught with an enzuigiri. It doesn’t knock him off his feet, but wobbles him, and he seems a bit woozy. She hurries to the corner, and up top before lining him up for a diving flipping seated senton, The Jenny Go Round. McFadden, whether through instinct or playing possum, saw it coming and blocks the maneuver. He walks a few steps with her legs pinned to his shoulders before lifting her back up and planting her with a powerbomb. Instead of going for the pin as he stacks her up with a prawn hold, he turns her over into the High Roller single leg crab!)

OC: Save her Hunter!

CR: He can’t, she’s all alone out there!

(She grimaces in pain, trying to crawl towards the ropes, but Westley just sits down on it deeper and forces the tap!)

GC: Here is your winner, Westley McFadden!!!

CR: Jennifer Famularo can’t call herself unbeaten anymore, Westley McFadden knocks her off in impressive fashion!

(“Till I Collapse” hits again to the cheers of the Luxor faithful, and he gets his hand raised in victory while Jennifer grabs her back down on the mat.)

OC: Asterisk by it! She didn’t have her manager out there!

CR: Because he tried to interfere!

OC: … So?

CR: Nevermind, what’s important is that Westley McFadden has his sights set on another Heritage Championship shot, and he showed off one of them weapons which could potentially be dangerous if he gets it. That was just one of the many ways he can apply that High Roller, a move that can quickly eat away at your rope breaks under Heritage Rules, or even bring home a victory like it did here.

WINNER: WESTLEY MCFADDEN

<><><>

(Backstage, Amanda DeInterviewer is in a discussion with Kendall Kingham that appears to be getting somewhat heated. Well, at least on Amanda’s end, Kendall seems oblivious to any tension.)

A: I’m the Head Interviewer, can I please just get a few minutes of Mr. Blackburn’s time.

(Kendall crinkles her nose in confusion.)

KK: Buuuttt you’re not on his schedule.

A: I realize that, but this Smith Jones situation isn’t one that could have been predicted coming into tonight. There are questions I think people want to know.

KK: The schedule’s the schedule, sorry!

(Amanda lets out a light sigh.)

A: Fine, then maybe since you’re his propoganda person you can answer this for me. Did SCW management know that Green Thunder was Smith Jones, or are they as thrown for a loop as the rest of us were?

(Kingham flashes a big smile.)

KK: Oh, I don’t know the answer to that! You’d have to ask Mr. Blackburn!

A: …

KK: But here’s what I can tell you! I can announce that Cancun Clash is going to feature Lex Collins defending his Vegas Championship against Cynthia Cross! How exciting is that?

A: That’s a great match, and I don’t mean to downplay it at all. I’d love to actually discuss it more during an interview that was meant to be devoted to it. But you’ve either forgotten what we were talking about or you’re intentionally trying to change the subject.

KK:Darn right it’s exciting! The Creole Crusher vs The Blue Collar Bruiser! Only live on …

(She suddenly notices Amanda has started walking off.)

KK: Hey! Where are you going? … Hello?

(The shot lingers on Kendall now standing by her lonesome, with a pouty expression crossing her face as we cut away.)

<><><>

Before Wildcard

(Sin City Wrestling’s newest interviewer, Madison Quinn, has joined Bert Perry for a pre-recorded moment prior to the show. They’re set up between the paws of the giant sphinx, a folding table separating them from the cameras and the fans who have started to join them on either side. )

FAN: I love you Bert!

BP: Hey, I love you too!

(He grins and waves, pausing to hitch the Heritage belt up on his shoulder.)

MQ: It seems you’ve made quite the impression on the folks at home, Bert!

BP: And the folks here, and you know what, that’s great, because they’ve made an impression on me! SCW is my home, and it’s thanks to everybody who has welcomed me with such open arms, Madison! Not just the fans, but everybody I’ve worked with. Don God, El Pablo, West McFadden, you’re all great competitors and I’ve had the opportunity to learn so much from you every time we’ve stepped between the ropes together!

MQ: What do you say to the people that said you couldn’t do it? That you weren’t cut out to be a champ?

BP: Hey, dude, it’s all good. People can say what they want, you know? It’s just words, you know? What matters is that I had good people around who believed in me, and I’d made a promise that I’d give this my all, and that’s exactly what I’ve done, and more… what I’m gonna keep doing!

(He turns to the camera, facing it directly and pointing and winking into the lens. )

BP: And now I’m gonna make a promise to you. Yes, YOU! You looking right at me right now! All of the yous, here and at home, from the bottom of my heart, I’m YOUR champion. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for every one of you who ever got tempted to give up on a dream. Every one of you who ever thought you weren’t good enough. Every one of you who’s been discouraged from following their heart. And this comes with a message as well! I want everybody to do something for me! Do something good for you. Something that makes you smile. Put a deposit in the Bank of I Love Me, and let it grow, okay?

MQ: Inspirational words! And what’s in store for you now, Bert?

BP: Well, I’m about to go in and watch some awesome wrestling from the best seats in the house! But before I do…

(He flips up the cloth that’s covering the table, grabbing a large cardboard box from underneath.)

BP: I got some’a these babies to give away! I got shirts for everybody, no matter who you love the most! If it’s got your favorite’s face on it, it’s here! Grab a shirt, grab one for a friend, and have a GREAT night!

(The feed returns to live action at ringside, specifically the announce desk.)

OC: WHY IS HE SO CHEERY.

CR: He loves what he does, Oscar, and I have to think that our Heritage Champion had to be impressed by what he saw right there from Westley McFadden.

OC: Okay fine, in that case … where’s my shirt!?

CR: I’m sure he’ll give you one if you ask.

OC: Ugh, just stop talking.

CR: We’ll be right back after this.

<><><>
<><><>

(The video wall comes to life with a flicker of static and a burst of feedback before footage of the opening match of last week’s Wildcard begins playing, devoid of sound. The camera pans around to find Kali Sidero making her way through the crowd, ambling along with a big smile on her face as she soaks in the crowd’s cheers. She continues her trek through the Luxor fans, before reaching her usual spot, and hoisting herself over the barricade. As she does, she gets grabbed by the hair, and yanked backwards violently by a fan whose face is obscured by a hooded sweatshirt! The back of her head bounces off the unprotected floor, and the assailant starts dropping punches on her before dragging Kali up and flinging her over the barricade. As she does, the hood falls back to reveal the Queen of Sin, Kitty Petrova! The footage freezes, the video backing up and rolling again, slower this time, dragging out the impact of Kali’s head with the floor.)

KP: Tsk, tsk. Poor little Kali. Poor, unfortunate soul.

(Petrova hops the barricade, serenaded by boos from the fans as she does so. After a pair of hard stomps, she drags Sidero up, and sends her face first into the ring post. She stumbles backwards, and Kitty launches her face first into the post again. Finally, Kali gets sent into the ring post one more time for good measure before crumpling up in a heap. Security hurry onto the scene, dragging Petrova off of Sidero as she had dropped down to throttle her around the neck with both hands. As they pull her away, she has the same expression on her face as she did after getting eliminated, not taking her eyes off of the bloodied, unmoving body of Kali.)

KP: It’s a sad tale, isn’t it? Poor little Kali, such promise, snuffed out so quickly.

(The paused image of Kitty’s dead-eyed stare on the screen vanishes, shifting to a view of the Queen of Sin herself, standing on the Luxor gaming floor. Her husband is behind her, arms folded across his chest, clearly watching over his beautiful wife as she licks her lips, a sweet smile on her face.)

KP: I’m sure there’s at least one new name on the list of my detractors now. Such a sad state of affairs, really. A woeful tale.

(She shakes her head, the smile becoming a cheeky smirk.)

KP: In my books though, it has a bit more purpose. A cautionary lesson, perhaps? If you don’t know who I am, then maybe your best course… would be to tread lightly.

(Those in the crowd who recognize what she’s quoting start to boo. Relentlessly. She doesn’t care, doesn’t even flinch, keeping on talking.)

KP: All of this, peons, all of this, falling apart like this, is on you. Every outpouring of negativity, every voice raised to mock my stature here will be repaid a thousand times over.

(Kitty glances back at Mikhail, seeming to find the sight of that glower on his face calming as she takes a deep breath.)

KP: Case and point being Chauncy Nottingham and now poor Kali Sidero. Two fools gone from our midst.

CR: Is she actually taking credit for the absence of the Knights of Anarchy right now? Is that what I’m hearing? Larry Gowan is injured-

OC: Shhh! Don’t speak until the Queen is done with her address.

(The boo birds are back and this time she waits them out, smiling benignly.)

KP: Curse me all you want, but just remember this – your heroes, those poor unfortunate souls – they got exactly what they paid for. Only one question remains now: who’s next?

(She lets that hang for a few seconds, almost as though waiting for someone to come charging out to challenge her. Nobody does as the crowd boos even louder.)

CR: Was she just ripping off both Walter White and Ursula from The Little Mermaid?

OC: She’s a genius, Court. You wouldn’t understand.

KP: You’ll all come to understand that universal truth soon enough

CR: What? That she subscribes to Netflix?

KP: Hell hath no fury quite like a QUEEN scorned.

(The Queen of Sin throws her head back, laughing as the feed cuts elsewhere in the building.)

<><><>

(We fade in from black, in the dimly lit bar-room area of the Luxor. The view of the ring inside the SCW venue is visible on one of the large monitors hanging from the wall. Two other couples sit at the far side of the bar-room, at tables, their conversations beyond indistinguishable to the camera… which pans down, finally focusing on the figures of Xavier Laroux and Evan Envi to a chorus of boos from the audience. Xavier Laroux pushes an empty beer bottle away while Evan finishes off a glass of… two-percent, organic soymilk.)

EE: We couldn’t stay in catering, man. I could, like, feel her there. She like… she was following us. Maybe we should just get ready to leave altogether.

XL: I won’t fight you there.

(Laroux stands up and nods off-camera for a moment.)

XL: Gonna run to the little extraordinary man’s room real quick.

EE: Well, jeez, Xavier. Tinkle fast, darnit!

(Xavier pauses, giving Evan a blank look for a moment… before turning and walking off toward the restroom. Evan sighs and finishes off his soymilk, slamming the glass down against the counter and gesturing toward the bartender.)

EE: Gimme another one.

(The bartender, a slender brunette, turns toward Evan and arches her brow, looking down at him.)

B: I think you’ve probably had eno–

EE: I’LL TELL YOU WHEN I’VE HAD ENOUGH, WOMAN!

(With a frown, the waitress takes the glass and walks away to refill. Evan groans and buries his face in his hands at the bar as the camera pans in toward him. A tattooed hand enters the frame, tapping him on the shoulder. The camera pans out to reveal Sensei Lucy standing there with a broad smile plastered on her face.)

SL: Heeyyy boo! Y’all are lookin’ a bit down, everythin’ alright?

(Evan slowly lowers his hands down over his mouth while the audience erupts at the appearance of the former SCW Global Champion. Evan doesn’t turn to face Lucy, but stares ahead, his eyes darting toward the soymilk as it slides into frame, coming to a stop in front of him. Clearing his throat, he lowers his arms down onto the bar before him and closes his eyes.)

EE: Everything is fine, person I cannot see. I’m in my happy place. And I cannot be harmed. Because I… am in… my happy place.

(Her face changes to a frown with a mix of contemplation.)

SL: I’m sensin’ some tension here. Listen, Evan, Double E, I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ an’ maybe I lost my cool a little bit. That’s why I’ve been tryin’ to track you down, ‘cause I keep thinkin’ of that heartfelt apology y’all gave me last week an’ been thinkin’ to m’self that I need to give y’all one of my own that’s just as sincere- legit.

EE: We’re in public. I will scream.

SL: See, I could say somethin’ snarky there but I won’t. Cause I’m comin’ here from a place of acceptance, and repentin’ an’ all that. Mendin’ fences!

(A pause follows.)

SL: Seriously, I got even got y’all a gift to show how sincere I am. Spent my own hard earned money on it; I’m hardcore Jewish, for me that’s like donatin’ a kidney.

(Evan opens his eyes and slowly turns, glancing up toward Lucy, an almost-hopeful look on his face.)

EE: You did?

(She nods her head, handing him a tiny box while beaming ear to ear. Evan opens it with the glee of a child on Christmas morning, to reveal … a gift card to Lawry’s The Prime Rib, one of Vegas’ foremost steakhouses.)

SL: Nailed it, huh!?

(Evan looks at the card for a moment, his face cycling through a seemingly endless range of emotions… before his cheeks flush red and his eyes narrow. He takes a short breath, glaring down at the card before turning to look at Sensei Lucy a second time.)

EE: Why do you hate me.

(Lucy says nothing at first, before finally answering with a completely straight face.

SL: Y’all are makin’ this awfully hard to complete the cycle of forgiveness. If I didn’t know better, I’d say y’all have some hostility my way, an’ didn’t mean a damn thing of that apology last week!

(She shrugs.)

SL: If that’s the way y’all want it so be it. But don’t worry, I ain’t given up on ya, and I’ll be seein’ y’all again real soon.

(With a wink, she walks off leaving Evan to sit at the table, still holding the card, gripping it between his fingers. He blinks a few times, looking in the direction Lucy went, his expression once again thoughtful– before it transforms to one of worry. Soon, worry becomes fear. And with his eyes wide once again, Evan turns, downing the soymilk in the glass before him. At the same instance, Laroux walks back into frame, nodding to himself.)

XL: Yep. Yep. Feel like a new man.

(He gestures to the door.)

XL: Let’s beat feet, bub. Before Lucy shows up or something. C’mon! A lot of psychos find their way into the bars.

(Evan’s eye visibly twitches, but he nods, pushing himself up to his feet to follow Laroux as we fade to black.)

<><><>

Main Event
Non-Title
Four Kings ©© vs Michael Norcia © & Dexter Jacobs

GC: This is the Wildcard Main Event of the evening, and it is a tag team bout set for one fall! Introducing first …

(“How Soon is Now” hits the PA system to a roar from the audience within the Luxor! A spotlight pans throughout the darkened SCW Arena before finally settling toward the top of the ramp where a white haze begins to cloud the entrance area. Within seconds, Tarja emerges through the smoke, arms extended to her sides as she gazes toward the screaming audience. From the curtains behind her emerges Don God, a small smile on his face as he surveys the masses. With a nod to Tarja, he leads the way down the ramp.)

GC: From Christchurch, New Zealand, and Morgantown, West VIrginia … they are the SCW Tag Team Champions, Don God … Tarja … Fouuurrr Kings!!!

CR: Do you think being in the Sureshot match together is going to affect the Kings’ chemistry at all?

OC: No, they were in the rumble together too, and looked great last time out!

(Don God climbs the turnbuckles outside the ring, raising a fist into the air. Several fists fly up in the audience in response. Don God hops into the ring while Tarja slides in, just seconds behind him on the other side. She rises to her feet next to Don as he once again throws a single fist high into the air… and after glancing at him she turns back toward the crowd with a smirk, raising four fingers high above her head in a similar banner, earning a roar from the audience. She turns to Don and the two bump fists before parting away from one another.)

CR: They did have a bit of a misstep on twitter before the match though.

OC: Listen, my bae is human! Leave her alone!

GC: Their opponents …

(The lights pulse in rhythm as the introduction to “Ashes to Ashes” by Damageplan rolls through the arena, drawing an eruption of cheers from the crowd. The intro rolls on for a few moments before the heavy guitars of the verse rip through the loudspeakers and Dexter Jacobs steps onto the ramp. He pauses, cracking his neck slightly, adjusting the tape on his hands a final time.)

CR: Here comes the former Global Champion. What do you think is going through his head, not only having to team with the man who knocked him from the Global Title ranks but with his regular tag partner Whiskey unavailable?

OC: I don’t know, I don’t speak neanderthal.

(He gives the crowd a glance and pounds a hand on his chest a few times before making his way down to the ring, entirely focused on the task ahead, looking around and giving the fans a slight nod, slapping a few of the nearest hands here and there before sliding under the bottom rope. He sits on his knees for a moment, taking things in before lurching to his feet and heading to his corner, running a hand through his hair before raising a single fist in the air to an eruption of cheers from the crowd. He scales the ropes and holds it up again, slapping himself across the chest a few times for emphasis as the crowd continues to cheer, finally stepping down, bouncing on the balls of his feet a moment before he moves back to his corner, where he leans against the turnbuckles to await the start of the match.)

(The overhead lights dim as the distorted opening guitar riffs for ‘Bury Me In Smoke’ hit the sound system, dark orange and red lights flashing along the rampway… the colors further muted as smoke all but pours out from behind the curtain. That ephemeral mist also rises up through the grate-work of the stage, the subtle coloration of the lights adding to the music’s shadowy ambiance. At first, the massive figure that steps out from behind the curtain is naught but a silhouette, broad-shouldered and solidly built-but as he slowly advances through the smoke and to the foreground, more of his identifying traits become visible. It’s not until his abundance of scars becomes evident that the man is revealed as none other than the Neck-Breaking Beast himself, Michael Norcia.)

GC: At a combined weight of 537 pounds, Dexter Jacobs and the SCW Global Champion “The Neck Breaking Beast” Michael Norcia!!!

OC: I will say if I was Norcia I’d watch my back. This is an environment with no friends!

(Stopping at the top of the ramp, he pays the smoke no heed as it licks along his skin, intense eyes focused upon the ring as he thrusts a single massive fist skyward to a rising chorus of cheers that he does not react to save the faintest of smirks. His walk down toward the squared circle is slow, methodical, his gaze never once deviating from the ring even as the rest of his body becomes visible as he clears the reach of the smoke. Seizing the middle rope, Norcia uses that grip to haul himself up onto the ring apron without so much as a single indicator of strain. The Neck-Breaking Beast climbs into the ring and strides over to his corner, climbing up onto the bottom ropes to once more thrust a fist skyward… but he does not remain there long, not when he has business to attend to. Climbing down, he turns away from the corner as his music fades, standing as still as a colossus hewn from granite.)

CR: I think that’s wishful thinking from you; I’ll tell you what I do know, this is an absolute all star matchup here.

(Just as Norcia’s music fades away, the lights turn off, sending confused murmurs through the crowd, the competitors in the ring and the commentary team. After a moment, a spotlight shines on the stage, lingering there for a moment before…)

TAKE THIS SHIT BACK!

OC: OH GREAT! What is he doing out here?

(A Day to Remember blares over the PA system as the figure of Rex moves into the spotlight. He dispenses with the normal pleasantries, electing instead to stare directly at the competitors in the ring, two in particular.)

CR: We’re not sure what Rex Evans is doing out here, but it looks like he has purpose.

OC: He’s out here to steal something, I know it.

(Rex doesn’t take his eyes away from Norcia’s, unless it’s to look into Don God’s. The four competitors in the ring seem mostly unfazed, though the Global Champion and Don return Rex’s stare with a matched intensity.)

CR: Wait a minute, he’s headed this way!

(As Rex reaches the ring, he stops for a moment before turning and heading toward the commentary booth, still without wavering his focus. He eventually makes it to the commentary booth, as the competitors return their attention to each other.)

CR: Mr. Evans, welcome to the commentary booth, I would ask what brings you out here but I think we all know.

(Before answering the question, Rex takes a long moment to stare at Oscar, who simply smiles and bats his eyelashes, graciously grabbing a headset for the number one contender.)

OC: Rex, have I ever told you that you’re my favorite wrestler?

RE: Shut up, Oscar. Courtney, you’re probably right. I came down here to get a better look at what I’ve got waiting for me at Cancun Clash. But on top of that, who wouldn’t like a front row seat to see Don God work?

(It isn’t sarcasm in his voice, but there is a hint of something. The camera returns to the squared circle, where there is some discussion between Dexter and Norcia over who will start the match before the bell rings. There appears to be a disagreement, but the veteran Global Champion concedes to Dexter, taking the high road.)

CR: Interesting.

OC: Oooh, trouble brewing!

CR: Your thoughts on what we just saw, Rex?

RE: Mike is a respectable guy, but he also loves to fight. He wanted to start this match to prove that he’s a fighting champion, but he’s also not going to create any turmoil just because his partner can’t agree.

OC: Why are you good at this job?

(Tarja starts for her team against Dexter, looking to use the speed edge against the powerhouse once THE BIG DOG calls for the bell. He throws looping punches as he tries to move in, which she ducks under, and slips to back him up into a neutral corner. She starts unloading on him with a rapid fire series of chops, and palm strikes before he muscles her off. Tarja rolls back to her feet, and is promptly knocked right down with a running back elbow from Jacobs.)

OC: Not the face!

CR: Man, all that offense and Dexter Jacobs is able to neutralize it with one simple back elbow. Similar to what both you, and Norcia will be bringing to Cancun Clash, Rex.

RE: Dex certainly knows how to keep things in control with his striking, which I agree both Norcia and I are good at.

(She slowly stands back up holding her jaw, and gets drilled in the mouth with a hard elbow smash before Jacobs grabs a front face lock. Dexter easily hoists her up in the air for a vertical suplex, but she manages to slip out behind. She doesn’t have the smoothest landing, backpedaling and hitting the ropes where Don slaps her back to blind tag in. As Dexter whirls back around, he goes to deliver a clothesline to her, which she anticipates by ducking way low and not even attempting an offensive maneuver of her own. As she does, Don God delivers a spinning backfist to the back of Jacobs’ head catching him by surprise. That throws his equilibrium off, and Tarja utilizes the five count before exiting the ring to deliver a running knee lift as Jacobs leans forwards, a sequence which is finished by an inverted headlock backbreaker from Don God. He drops into the cover as Tarja exits the ring.

One …

Two …

Thr …

Dexter kicks out.)

CR: Wow, those Kings are so on the same page, aren’t they?

RE: As my brother and I learned the hard way last week, they often are.

(Following the kick out, Don God delivers a single hard stomp to Dexter Jacobs’ stomach, contorting the face of the former SCW Global Champion. He rolls to his side, allowing Don to roll him prone on his belly, securing a tight front facelock. One half of the Tag Champions delivers knees to the shoulder of Dexter, before making sure he has his grip secured.

LET’S GO DEXTER!

GO KINGS GO!

The dueling chant breaks out as Jacobs struggles to overcome the technique of Don God by rising back up to his feet with pure power. He makes it up to a kneeling position, and Don delivers knee strikes to his body to cut him off with both Tarja and Michael Norcia looking on intently from their respective corners. )

RE: Don God proving right here why he’s the future of this company.

(Sensing that he’s got Jacobs in a compromised position, Don release the hold, and circles back towards his corner. He goes for the Sole Patrol running boot to the kneeling Dexter, who explodes to his feet with a huge double A spinebuster! He sits up after driving Don to the mat, not realizing another blind tag had been made. Tarja lines him up, nailing the kneeling Jacobs square in the jaw with a superkick. His eyes roll back, and he falls to the mat, while she hooks both legs tightly.

One …

Two …

Thr …

Dexter rolls his shoulder up again.)

OC: Two great individuals against a great team.

CR: Rex, you’ve faced them in both tag and singles scenarios. While they’re obviously great wrestlers by themselves, how different was it facing the Kings in that six person tag?

RE: They’re both incredibly talented, but when you put them together it’s as if they rise to a different plane.

(Tarja shoots a quick glance to the head official asking if that was three, but quickly refocuses and heads to the corner. She hops up to the second rope, delivering a diving knee drop, then rolling up to her feet and tagging Don back in.

WE WANT NORCIA!

WE WANT NORCIA!

Dog God quickly double checks the ring positioning, and then hits the ropes for a hands free lionsault. He crashes down, right onto the raised knees of Dexter Jacobs! Don writhes around, clutching his sternum before staggering up, where Dexter delivers And Hell Followed With Him, a discus lariat before collapsing from the adrenaline dump of the move as both corners call out for tags. The fans clap their hands as Dexter slowly crawls towards his corner. Don starts doing so as well, moving quicker despite Jacobs getting a head start on him. They each reach out, making tags to bring Tarja and Norcia into the match! Tarja comes right at the Global Champion with a full head of steam performing a cartwheel kick that catches him in the jaw.)

CR: Don God alluded to it, but there’s a bit of history between Norcia and Tarja last year.

(She follows with a standing dropkick that staggers him. Finally, she goes to perform a wheelbarrow bulldog, but he blocks it and keeps her in the wheelbarrow position before transitioning to a wheelbarrow suplex. Norcia rolls back up to his feet, waiting for Tarja to rise up, where he plants her with a uranage into the cover.

One ..

Two …

Tarja kicks out.)

OC: Poor bae.

RE: Whatever that means.

(After Norcia stands back up, he sees Tarja hasn’t moved, and goes to drag her to her feet. Tarja was playing possum, and delivers a pele type kick from the ground which stuns him. She goes to pull him down into an inside cradle, which he rolls all the way through back up to his feet into an emerald flowsion set up for God Send Death. Don is fortunately able to reach out, and tag her foot to enter the match, something Norcia senses, craning his head to keep an eye on the now legal man. This does allow Tarja to slip free, and arm drag out of his grip. Norcia rolls up to his feet, delivering a short clothesline to Don God but getting met with a lungblower from Tarja before she has to exit the ring. Don quickly crawls over, draping an arm across for the cover, but Norcia counters by grabbing hold of him and securing a crucifix neck crank!)

CR: Nailed to the Cross! That’s how he beat Dexter the first time!

RE: And something I’ll definitely be looking out for.

(Don God is trapped with nowhere to go, as he looks to escape the hold. Thankfully for him, he’s close enough to the ropes where he’s able to reach a foot out to force a break which Norcia grants without the head official needing to start a five count. As he backs off, Don pulls himself back up, and the two start circling again.)

OC: Tell me Evans, if you have Norcia trapped in your guillotine and he grabs a rope break; hell even Don God if you and Tommicide get that match for the tag belts. GLOBAL TITLE OR WORLD TAG TITLES ON THE LINE would you do the same thing there, or do you stretch the count to four, given the stakes. Hell, especially the latter given you’re not just fighting for yourself but beside a partner?

RE: Some people might like to bend the rules, but I’m not one of them. You might call it foolish or unintelligent, but I’d prefer to get my victories within the confines of the rules 10 times out of 10.

(Norcia snaps off several jabs, then goes to the body of Don God before trying to go back upstairs with his boxing. Don cuts him off with the Shuto thrust strike to the neck, cutting off the SCW Global Champion. He quickly takes a few steps back, tagging Tarja back in, and the two of them then deliver a double savate kick to the chest of the powerhouse Michael Norcia. They then utilize their five count to double Irish whip him off the ropes, where Jacobs blind tags himself in. Norcia ducks under a double clothesline attempt from the Four Kings, and gets a head of steam delivering a big double shoulder block to both Tag Team Champions drawing a big pop from his supporters. He’s about to go for a cover, when Jacobs informs him of the tag which The Neck Breaking Beast didn’t feel with the adrenaline running. There’s a slight exchange of glances drawing “ooohs” from the fans, but Norcia makes his exit regardless.)

CR: Tension there, perhaps? Norcia showing his composure, and understanding the situation again, though.

RE: Tension won’t solve anything. He’s a veteran, he knows that. He can save his anger to unleash on the Kings the next time he gets in the ring.

(Jacobs, perhaps looking to send a message to everyone involved, grabs both Kings in front facelocks and lifts them each up in a delayed vertical suplex. He holds them both there in a freakish display of strength despite BIG DOG telling him that only one is legal right now. A Don God knee to the temple from the upside down position is enough to wobble Dexter’s center of gravity enough for him to let both Tag Champions slip free. The legal one Tarja delivers a straightjacket lungblower rolled over into the Jetta Lock to complete the Backpack Attack on the stunned Jacobs who had his eyes on Don God. Michael Norcia tries to enter the ring to help his partner, but Don -perfectly aware of his responsibility and the situation not being the legal competitor- catches him with a Sole Patrol as he’s caught up stepping through the ropes. The legal one Tarja wrenches back on the grounded straightjacket hold as Dexter tries crawling towards the ropes, but was too far in the center of the ring, and starts to fade. She keeps wrenching back on the maneuver, and he raises his hand, contemplating a tap before he bites his own hand to prevent himself from tapping.)

OC: Just tap already! There’s no title on the line here!

CR: Yes, but he’s so full of pride, and he knows everyone in this match or watching on commentary is a potential rival either in the tag division, the Sureshot Match, or if he captures the briefcase again! He is trying to will himself to keep this match going!

RE: Dexter is a lot like me in that regard, I’m not going to tap out unless there is physically no alternative. Considering Dexter hasn’t tapped, that’s not the case here. He’s got something left in the tank.

(Sensing that he’s got nothing left, Tarja quickly shifts the hold so she stacks his shoulders onto the mat, and THE BIG DOG drops to check them.

One …

Two …

Norcia has shaken the cobwebs loose, but Don God is still keeping a watchful eye on him.

Three!!!)

GC: Here are your winners, the SCW Tag Team Champions, Don God, Tarja … FOURRRR KIINNGGSSS!!!

CR: This was truly a team effort here tonight, the Kings showed why they’ve been the standard bearers in the tag division.

OC: Yeah, but bae still got the pin and beat last year’s Sureshot holder, just like she beat a legend in William Bateman! Not only are they the Tag Champs, but she’s got as good a chance as anyone of winning this Sureshot Case! It’s good to be a King!

CR: Your thoughts, Rex? I know that’s not Dexter’s normal partner he had there, but that still has to be good for your and Tommy’s chances at the next shot at the Kings.

RE: As I just stated, I thought Dex had more in the tank there, but the Kings proved once again why they’re on top. I’d love for my brother and I to get a shot at the titles, and hopefully we can prove we have just as much chemistry as they do.

WINNERS: FOUR KINGS
<><><>

(As “How Soon Is Now” hits the speakers, the Tag Champions get their title handed back to them before their hands are raised. Rex Evans takes his headset off and then stands up, locking eyes with the Four Kings to let them know he’s still got his sights on the tag belts. He then shifts his glance to a disappointed Michael Norcia who had checked to see if his partner for the night was okay after being in the hold for so long, before he got his own Championship handed back to him. The Kings, both in the Sureshot match for a chance at the belt Norcia currently holds in his grasp soon shift their attention to him as well. The SCW Global Champion surveys the surroundings, catching the look of frustration etched on the face of Dexter Jacobs, also looking to in his case recapture both the Sureshot case and Global Title as he sits up, holding his neck. Staying resolute, Norcia stands his ground, tapping the nameplate of the Championship belt which rests upon his shoulder to indicate that he’s not going to back down from whatever challenges come his way. On the outside, Rex nods to the champ, gritting his teeth with a bit of a grin as he rolls out his neck.)

OC: Oh man, I would not want to be Wrestling Dad right now. Hell, I don’t think there’s anything in the Sureshot Rules that says one of those three couldn’t win the case and then cash it in later that night during his match with Evans!

CR: He’s got a target on his back no doubt about it, that’s what lies ahead for him holding the richest prize out there. But let’s make no mistake about it, everyone out there has a target on them because they’re all gunning for the same thing or things in some cases when you add the tag belts into the mix. It’s an exciting time, and I can’t wait to see what’s next. We had attacks, surprises, and tension galore tonight alone and the road to Cancun Clash is just going to keep heating up. For Oscar Cruize, I’m Courtney Reynolds. We’ll see you next week right here on Wildcard!

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