Anzac Cup 2020 : Show

[SWAT Team]

Syndicate Wrestling & Tradition and the XHF presents ....

Coming to you LIVE from the Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne Australia.

Jeremy Tucker : Wow, what a moving video, a tribute to all the great Anzacs of past. They showed REAL teamwork, and we today try and do our best to honor the spirit of team work and the Anzacs with this prestigious Tag Team Tournament!

Andrew Fulton : It’s no Joe Pesci singing Wiseguy, but it is o_k.

Jeremy Tucker : You are a true dickhead. Tonight folks, it’s the 4th Annual Anzac Cup! Our inaugural winners Team Fairtex are lining up for another crack at the Cup, as is one half of last year’s winners Timeless.

Andrew Fulton : Was that only a year ago his partner was still here? Seems like a million years ago before he ran off to Witness Protection.

Jeremy Tucker : Efed years are like dog Years Andy, they go that quick.

Andrew Fulton : (taking the last drag of his smoke and butting it out in his ashtray.) How about that ending to Battleground Jerry? Near on 12 or 13 of these teams involved tonight closed out the show with a wild all in brawl!

Jeremy Tucker : That’s how bad they all want it, let’s take a look at the brackets so we can see who is facing who in the first round and try and get a handle on where we are going.

Andrew Fulton : What the absolute? All four KGB teams facing each other in the FIRST two matches? That three out by end of round TWO! This must be Sainovic’s work!

Jeremy Tucker : It could be, although I was instructed earlier the brackets were all random.

Andrew Fulton : Random my ass!

Jeremy Tucker : Wow, when you look at these brackets, it sure is a star studded line up, this is truly anyone’s Cup for the taking,. There must be at least nine or ten different teams who could easily take out the whole thing!

Andrew Fulton : What about the other six or seven? You writing them off?

Jeremy Tucker : No, that’s not what i was saying ....

Andrew Fulton : Sounded like it to me Jerry.

Jeremy Tucker : I was just trying to say, that they could all call themselves a favourite really, that’s how strong this field is, nothing personal with an omission. Folks, we’ll be heading to our first match shortly, The KGB Vs ... The KGB! First though, some words from our great Tag Teams.

[mosler]

[Having just sent an e-mail informing Radu Matei that will not be allowed to participate in the XHF Rumble...... because SWAT <Zoran> refused to approve his leave, the X*Crown champion is smiling like a cheshire cat.  Docked just outside the wharf on which the XHF is hosting their rumble, Zoran Sainovic is catching some sun on the back of his yacht.]


Zoran Sainovic <turning from computer to the camera>: Welcome Syndicate Wrestling And Tradition fans to what I am sure will be ze greatest Anzac Cup in ze tournament's history!  Ze inclusion of so many Hardkore stars confirming ze Anzac to be vastly superior to ze Frank A. Marano memorial in every way!  Under my impressive administration, we have gathered a veritable who's who of ze wrestling world.


I apologize for not being zere in person to kick off ze festivities, but I am in ze middle of an X*Crown championship defence.  Preferring singles glory to spectating on pathetic tag action.  Please let me assure you, zat even if I was not wrestling... I probably still wouldn't bother showing up for another week.  Ze Anzac Cup is literally ze longest night of ze year.


...But don't worry SWAT Faithful - I'm going to kick fifty plus asses in zis rumble, returning with MY many belts just in time to present ze winners with ze trophy - zat's a promise.  Honestly, being in ze same ring with me is ze real reward.


Good luck Anzac participants.


For zose KGB about to die - I salut you.


[Yeah, those brackets were definitely randomized.]

[The Final Boss fires a flare gun in the air to signify the start of the cup.  He also kills an albatross.  That's good luck, right?]

[edwarddubin0604]

(Team Fairtex is in their locker room finishing their warm ups and are putting their on their Thai fighting gear and streamers as the door opens and Warren W. Webber enters as they turn and look irritated at his presence.)

Tong Fairtex: "Don't tell me you want some words about our first round match."

WWW: "Am I that obvious."

Team Fairtex: "DUH!"

WWW: "You're facing last years winner....."

Phantam Fairtex: "That's co-winner 'Timeless' Alex Turner. The loser he carried throughout their team's existence went into witness protection and was never seen again."

WWW: "I stand corrected. You're facing 'Timeless' Alex Turner who's teaming with his wife Roxylishus and they seem to want revenge on Radu Matei and 'Lucky' Linda La Fey for their defeating them."

Tong Fairtex: "You see the low esteemed overinflated head of Commissioner or shall we actually say Commissar Zohan Suck his Dick again is trying to destroy the KGB by pitting us against each other. I mean notice the match ups. We won the first Anzac Cup in 2017 when nobody thought we would. We were the underdogs going into it and we won. Flash forwards to 2019 and 'Timeless' Alex Turner and Joey Morelli won the Anzac Cup and by the way 'Timeless' was carrying that lazy asshole Morelli. Hell Morelli couldn't even win the X-Crown. Now let's flash forward to now Warren.
Let's flash forwards to what's happening in this tournament."

WWW: "You mean the seeding of the teams."

Phantam Fairtex: "Yeah Commissar Moron wants to eliminate both our teams so the KGB can't defend it's turf and that turf is SWAT Syndicated Wrestling and Tradition. The KGB represents real tradition and real wrestling not that the competitors from the other promotions are bad but they aren't KGB. They aren't even SWAT for that matter."

WWW: "You seem to be looking ahead."

Phantam Fairtex: "Really. It so happens we're just pointing out the other teams and the differences that SWAT's teams have over the others."

Tong Fairtex: "Now getting back to facing our good friends and allies 'Timeless' Alex Turner and Roxylishus. We have great respect for them and their abilities. Last show they were robbed by Linda and Ragu and we all know Commissar Zohan was behind it all the way or he wouldn't have let that dead piece of trash be Linda's partner. Yet he did didn't he and that proves he was pulling Alex Turner's chain and playing him as a fool all this time. Well congrats Commissar Asshole you got your wish and I hope he beats you down in the Rumble for the X-Crown."

Phantam Fairtex: "You see Alex has our total respect and we know each other since we 're part of the same group and we travel together and train together. Yeah we're competing against each other in the first round due to you know who but we're going to be going about our business in our usual no nonsense way and so will 'Timeless' and Roxylishus. We both want to repeat as two time Anzac Cup winners."

WWW: "You think Commissioner Zoran is going to be watching the proceedings."

Tong Fairtex: "Yeah we know he's obviously watching these proceedings and is probably going to be laughing all through the tournament as the KGB once again proves we're going to be still one unit under one strong Boss and like I mentioned we're going to be even more meaner and more vicious and violent than ever. One thing's for certain and that's this Warren. When this tournament ends and when everyone of these teams falls by the waist side all there will be left is SWAT's Anzac Cup remaining home in SWAT and if it's not us it's going to be one team and one team only and that's our opponents in this tournament and that's 'Timeless' Alex Turner and Roxylishus."

WWW: "You saying you plan on losing to them."

Phantam Fairtex: "Whoa....Whoa....Triple W. We didn't say we're going to just take a dive for them. My brother's just saying that 'if' and that's a big 'if' Warren. We're not going to take a dive or a fall or even a lay down for Alex and Roxylishus. We're going in there and we're going in there to show why Team Fairtex is a well oiled wrestling machine and we're going to show we don't play around. We're going to show everyone we're the team of the future. We're the ultimate team and most off all one that's true excellence and tonight we're going to prove it."

Tong Fairtex: "We're going to be true excellence and if the other fourteen teams don't like that then they aren't even close to excellence. Come on brother Phantam we're out of here. This interview is over and we're out of here."

Phantam Fairtex: "Right behind you brother Tong."

(They leave Warren W. Warren.)

WWW: "Back to you gentlemen."

(The scene slowly fades to black.)

[eddied]

(Eddie D and Trent Jones, Brothers in Anarchy, have parked their motor bikes and are approaching the Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne Australia.)



EDDIE: This is it. This is the reason we settled our feud with a handshake, a beer and an almighty swerve.



TRENT: Basically it was a big fuck you to all the trash here in SWAT!



EDDIE: And do you see the big mistake they made straight off the bat? They put us against the champions in round one?!



TRENT: Putting probably the only tag team on the card that could actually give us a challenge in our first match? While we’re fresh? You’re right. It’s pretty dumb.



EDDIE: Maybe in the scheme of things it would have been nice to meet them when they’re already beat up a bit, but if you want to be the best you have to beat the best.



TRENT: Like I said before, no one in the locker room or the office appreciates the beauty of the swerve the way we do. They must really think that Rally and Tuxedo have a chance…



EDDIE: Unless this is only part of their plan to stack the deck against us?



TRENT: Let’s not get paranoid just yet.



EDDIE: Says the fucking schizophrenic in the team?!



(Trent looks offended for a second and then he sees that Eddie was just joking and the two punch each other in the arm jokingly and keep walking to the entrance. A Security guard blocks their way.)



SECURITY: Names please?



TRENT: Do you not watch the fucking show dude?



SECURITY: I do sometimes.
Still need to see passes or ID.


EDDIE: We won the main event just last week.



TRENT: Here's my pass, it's the heavyweight title belt!?!


SECURITY: I need positive proof.



EDDIE: Do you recognize us?



SECURITY: Well, yes…



EDDIE: Are you positive you recognize us?



SECURITY: Well, yes, but…



EDDIE: Well there’s your positive proof you punk arsed mall cop.



SECURITY: I’m sorry Mr Jones, Mr D, but checking my list... I see that with or without ID your names are not actually on the list for the main entrance access tonight. You’ll have to go around to the alternative entrance on the other side of the arena.



(Eddie is about to lose his temper, looking ready to attack the guard when Trent steps between them and accepts the guard’s decision.)



TRENT: Just around here right?



SECURITY: If you don’t mind sirs.



(Eddie looks at Trent incredulously as Trent leads the way away from the entrance, Eddie goes to protest but Trent gets his words out first.)



TRENT: I imagine this is the first of many inconveniences we’ll be going through this evening big guy. They're obviously trying to fuck with our prep for this big encounter. Maybe keep that temper in check until it will actually do our cause some good huh?



EDDIE: Hot damn. Who knew you’d be the level headed one for a change.



(Eddie D and Trent Jones shrug off the annoyance and begin to take the long walk around to the alternative entrance. Weary from the long walk they approach the guard on the door.)



SECURITY: Names please?



EDDIE: Eddie D and SWAT World Heavyweight Champion Trent “Mr Bones” Jones.



SECURITY: You’re not on the list.



TRENT: That can’t be right. We just got dicked around at the main entrance and sent here.



SECURITY: You could be on the goods-in entrance list. That’s just around the corner?



TRENT: Are you shitting me? Do I look like luggage you fu….



(Trent is about to lose his temper and is ready to stomp on the guard when Eddie steps between them.)



EDDIE: Temper, Temper big guy… Look buddy, why can’t you put that walkie talkie you have there to good use and find out what list we’re on, because I have not signed up for the cardio program of doing laps of this arena just to suit your admin bullshit.


SECURITY: My radio is for emergency use only sir.



EDDIE: If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, you’d have had at least a First Aid incident here, maybe even a fatality. That’s a lot of paperwork for somebody.
Not for you probably, but for somebody...


SECURITY: I don’t make the rules sir. I also don’t take kindly to threats. If your name’s not down you’re not coming in.



(The Security guard has squared up to Eddie D and Eddie is smiling at him and finds his bravado amusing. Eddie gives Trent a slight nod and Trent kneels down on all fours behind the Security guard.)



EDDIE: I know you’re only following orders. Well we’re under orders too. Orders to get our arse in there and be ready for roll call or they’ll forfeit our fucking match as no-shows... So…



(Eddie pushes the guard hard in the chest and the guard spins awkwardly over the kneeling Trent Jones and winds himself and stays down. The guard’s radio squawks into life…)



RADIO: Is everything OK there? CCTV is on the fritz, Over…



(Eddie picks up the radio and high fives Trent Jones as he gets back to his feet. They look down on the Security guard with amusement as he gasps for air and hold his back.)



EDDIE: That's a 10-4. This is THE Big Deal calling The Big Boss Man do you copy, Over? ...



RADIO: Big Boss what now? This is control? Who is this? Over...



EDDIE: It’s anarchy baby. The Brother’s in Anarchy are penetrating your perimeter through the rear entrance. I have it on good authority that that’s the way you love it.
Dry and dirty, hold the mayo...
Muchachos you’d better send a first aider ‘cause this security guy's turning blue. Breath you dumb fuck!? Roger, Wilko, Over and Out…


TRENT: First tag move of the night went off well. Let's get in there before the cavalry show up.



(Eddie D tosses the radio over his shoulder and laughs as the guard starts to get his breath back. Eddie and Trent Jones bump into a SWAT photographer who looks surprised to see them there. He takes a quick snap of them and starts to upload it as he runs about his business. Trent and Eddie walk into the arena laughing and joking as they disappear into the backstage.)




WE'RE HERE BABY. NOW THE FUN CAN REALLY START!!!

[Blackstone]

Warning! Rated SFU for seriously fucked up.

(Previously recorded)

It was hot. Of course it's always hot here in Hawaii. But this was fucking ridiculous. I know people were praying for sun, thinking it'd kill this fucking virus but did Satan have to set the crack of his ass on the Earth? Fuck no. He didn't but it fucking happened. Sweat poured from my great black hair down to what would have been a ball fro if I had one. But I didn't. Ladies don't like slobbin on a hairy sack, you understand. Seriously. Why'd it have to be so damn hot? I swear to the gods, yes...plural. If I ever find out which cult of witches made this shit happen, I'm gonna fuck Them all to death.

I'm Samuel Blackstone by the way. Not Sam or Blackstone. I'm Samuel Blackstone. When you say my name, I want to hear the whole thing, unless you're a skanky slut. Then daddy will suffice. I guess my parents thought they were pirates or some shit. I hated them for giving me that fucking name. It felt so look damn good when I felt my old baseball bat touch my dad's skull. Fucking child abuser he was.

My hands were vibrating from the lawnmower. Yes. I cut rich folks grass for a living. What? You asswads out there in tv land think this was my house? Like I could afford a fucking five story brick mansion surrounded by beaches and palm trees? Fuck no. This one in particular was owned by a rich asshole by the name of Builds Fences or something like that. And for all his money, he never pays worth a shit. This dude gotta be worth a few billion but he's gonna cut me a fucking check for twenty five bucks. Pisses me off. I swear I got half a mind to storm those doors and strangle that fucked. That's why I'm going to SWAT. Cause rich fucked a don't wanna pay for shit and I gotta get laid..

“You know what? Fuck Builds Fences.” I said as I lifted that lawnmower and tossed it through the nearest window. Damn thing was still running too. I heard a few cats hiss and them splatter on the blades. I can't lie. It felt good.

But I guess I should introduce myself. After all, Swat sent me this camera. Couldn't be bothered to send out a camera crew with it. I guess you can screw people over when you have enough money.

Anyway. I'm Samuel Blackstone. I'm an alcoholic, drug addicted ladies man with big muscles and a small...house. Yea. Can't afford nice things when you work for the top one percent. I live in a piece of shit house that smells like a hookers ax wound after a busy weekend. I have no money, and very little food. Needless to say...Im hungry, horny and thirsty. Those three thing make a dangerous man. In my spare time I like to drink anything with alcohol in it, eat any kind of food I can find in a dumpster, and get laid. Stand in my way and get straight trucked, son. That's how we do here in the H.

Now, y'all gotta excuse this shaky ass camera. I told you Swat ain't send out no camera crew and I'm feanin for some of that good Jamaican snow. I guess if you have seizures, you oughta take a fucking break or something cause we got a long ass walk through town. We might even hit a couple good eat in spots on the way.

“Its getting dark. We better get goin.”

I always hated walking through rich neighborhoods during daylight. They always judge you when you start digging through their dumpsters looking for food. They throw out the best food. Steaks, lobster. I be eatin good..

I walked past a smaller house decorated like your classic beach house. It was blue and had a statue of a skanky ass mermaid. Their dumpster was out front and they always had some good stuff in there. I could smell the burgers already.

I started digging, not worrying about the shaking camera. I wasn't disappointed. Somebody threw a cookout earlier in the day. I couldn't believe the food that was thrown out. I loaded up on a few burgers and steaks. The Food be good as hell if I could afford a microwave to heat this shit up with.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I looked to my left and saw some tubby bitch in a black string bikini staring at me with her mouth open like some {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} mouth breather. She was a very large woman. She looked like she was hiding a dead rat in those bottoms.

“Whatchu want, bitch?”, I laughed.

I thought this tubby skank was gonna eat me. I wasn't terrified. I watched them zombie shows through my window on my neighbors tv. I knew that a shot to the brain would take this fat hamster looking bitch out.

“Fuck outa here, tubby.”, I said before biting into the steak. It was juicy and tender. Perfectly cooked. I didn't care that it was tinged green. That shit was good.

“You're eating out of my garbage, heathen.”, she responded.

“Shit. I'm surprised your fat ads had any to throw away.”, I laughed and almost choked on my food.

“I'm calling the cops.”

This bitch was starting to piss me off.

“Call 'em then. Be gone, tubby.”, I said between chews.

I figured it was time to go when that fat bitch took her phone from between her sagging titties. That phone had to smell like onions. I didn't know how she could put it that close to her face.

I walked until the sun had gone down. I started hearing gunshots and seeing crack whores. Fuck. If I only had five bucks I could get a bummer hummer. Y'all know what a bummer hummer is? No. See..a bummer hummer is when a skanky ass to ain't got no teeth and she gives you a blowjobs. Most of these bitches round here ain't got teeth but five bucks is hard to come by. That's why I signed up for swat.

“Hey honey. You lookin for a good time?”

The question came from my left. It was a fat bitch with three brown teeth. Looked like she oozed depression and aids from her pours.

“Yea but I ain't lookin for herpes.”, I said as I walked away.

My house wasn't far. It was nothing special but it was home. I had to eat out of garbage cans but at least I had half a roof over my head, right?

I rounded the corner to Birch Street and there it was. Casa La Blackstone. The windows were busted out and the roof was caving in. I'd been squatting in the joint for years. Cops used to show up but I ain't seen them in months...I went inside and sat on my dirty blue couch. It was stained with brown spots and some white spots. I sat my grub down on the coffee table. It damn near fell from the weight.

As I started eating, I suddenly got the urge to just start talking, so I sat the camera down on a stand where a tv would sit if I had one.

“So what the fuck in as Anzarac Cup and why the fuck is a badass like myself not in it? Serious question. Why am I not in this thing banging the heads of obvious no talent trash? I mean, fuck man. We have what is basically a fat ass bowling ball like Eddie F in this thing. No offense to the ball itself...Well.,actually I mean every offense. This dude is basically an enormous ball of fat with shoes on. Dude has about as much talent as one too. It's seriously sad, dude. Do any one actually want to see this fat bastard huffing and puffing around a wrestling ring? Dude takes breaks so often, he might as well walk around with an oxygen machine. And that's not even going into his partner in “crime”. Tracy “I had a boner once” Jones? They're like a walking two pack of giant edible marshmallow people that nobody wants anything to do with. And by anybody I mean paying customers. Fuck. I won't even watch those two through my window and into my neighbors living room. That pissy time. There's no entertainment in watching two grown, youngish men sucking in air like they've ran a marathon when all either of them did was slowly walk to the ring….And they had to stop half way to get their breathe.

And Anthony Catterpiller? The fuck is this nerd doing sports? Ain't he got some math or something to do? This isn't an academic decathalon. This shits grown man business. This dudes better off searching the internet for a fucking escort like nerds do rather than doing actual sports. Don't forget to bring your inhaler and calculator nerd boy.

Seriously. I could wipe my ass with all of them. And I'm outa toilet paper, so I'm getting desperate. I'm thinking about using three piece suit masks mask to wipe my butthole. Jesus knows the store down the road ain't got none..might as well use that dumbass mask.

But these idiots get a chance at this thing but your boy Sam don't? That's a damn shame. It truly is. I guess whoever the poor brainless fuck who runs swat don't like entertainment value. He likes watching what is the equivalent of watching two {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} fuck. Whatever. One day ole Sam Blackstones gonna be on the card and then all y'all gonna be fucked. And I mean actually fucked. As in I'm gonna actually bend y'all over and shove my Wang up your poppers. It's a dominance thing really. Shit. Pisses me off. Oh well.”

The camera light went out.

[bloodiedfox]

Hello SWAT. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Bloodied Fox. I'm here to prove a point.

We're... somewhere. Backstage, perhaps? It's dark, save for a dim red light. AWF's own Bloodied Fox stands, hands behind his back. Beside him stands Brendan Harding, at least presumably. His face is covered by the silver wolf mask JROK fans will have seen him don for entrances, his hood also up. The gleam of the red light upon it gives it an unsettling look, as though of a predator waiting to pounce.

What that point is depends on who you are. To Seth Dillinger and Ryan Young, my supposed friends, co-holders of the XHF Tag Titles, and fellow members of LGBTKO, the point is that casting me aside for the sake of their own petty squabble is the worst mistake they've ever made. To the XHF at large, it's that I am no longer just the plucky underdog they gave sympathetic accolades to, but a growing force to be reckoned with. And to SWAT?

That everything I've said about this place is true.

Fox smirks.

I've made my opinion on SWAT quite clear these past few months. Before Ryan Young and I steamrolled over the then-SWAT Tag Champions Team Fairtex, I pointed out how uninspiring an achievement holding those belts was. Hell, the match didn't even take place in SWAT! It got hosted at JROK just so that anyone would actually see it! More recently, I've theorised over Anthony Caffrey's flight from the AWF to here. Not only is he running scared of Seth Dillinger, who just popped over and kicked his arse again here anyway, he simply can't be fucked trying to earn the spotlight he craves so desperately, so he jumps into a smaller pond where he can pretend he's a bigger fish. Screw effort, just take the easy option!

Now I'm sure you diehard SWAT fans are currently howling at your screens that you're the home of the X-Crown champion, Zoran Sainovic. Which is currently true, and will remain so for a few more days until the XHF Rumble when he luck runs out, either to me or the numerous other people in that match he can't politic his way around. With that point counterpointed, you'll now defer to your other objection: if this place sucks so bad, why have I bothered coming here? Why not just simply sit in my ivory tower of AWF, being smug and awesome? To which I respond, did you not listen to the whole bit at the start where I said I was proving a point? For opinion to be fact, it has to be supported by evidence. For evidence to exist, you must take action to create it. I could say SWAT is beneath me till the cows come home, but until I step in the ring and show that for a fact, I'd simply be just another windbag running their mouth. The XHF doesn't need a second Anthony Caffrey, does it?

So step right up, SWAT stars, and test your strength against Bloody Zen Romance! When everyone else has let me down, I turn to the last person left that I can trust; an undefeated JROK star, who just so happens to be the love of my life.

Fox pats Brendan on the shoulder, at which point he tilts his head.

We are here to carve a path of red ruin through all opposition, and first up on the chopping block are K-JAX and Lunchbox Larry, a team nearly as newly formed as ours, except without the whole three plus years of sparring and romance to build the bond. Still, it wouldn't do to take them lightly. Their debut win was impressive, and they are a combination that covers each other's weaknesses. One man for the thinking, one man for the lifting. All well and good, but divide and conquer. The thinking man can be out fought. The lifting man can be out thought. Perhaps with more experience they could avoid that fate, but time is not on their side. Us though? We've got time. Four matches worth of it, to be precise.

K-JAX and Lunchbox, you are the first, but you won't be the last. This is our moment, and this is our tournament. There is not one team in this whole field that we fear. Anyone who wants to prove me wrong on anything I've just said is welcome to step up and try to take us down. Emphasis on 'try'. You will not succeed.

That's the Bloody point.

[Soutter]

[We see a limo driving the streets of Melbourne, the shot pans to inside and there he is, The Big Bad Bustling Bandit himself, Mad Dog Paul Soutter, with the Compton Colossal Bruno. Soutter is wearing a KGB t-shirt and bandana and Bruno is wearing his dark sun glasses and KGB muscle top.]

Soutter : This is it Bruno. The Mad Dog of Melbourne is going to take it all out in his home town baby!

Bruno : 110% Cracker thought his Manchester victory over Caffrey was something.

Soutter : Hold my drink i believe is the saying.

Bruno : Speaking of Caffrey, you should have knocked his block off, the gall of the guy to speak to you so on Suits Suite.

Soutter : Everyone wants to take a cheap shot .... .but .... but no one has ever gone out of their way to hijack a Suite in that manner. I tell you Bruno, it was like pulling teeth. If he can make it to the 3rd round, I will gladly knock him down a peg or two.

Bruno : I will personally ensure he does make it thru, just to see you smack that smug smile off his lips dawg.

Soutter : First things first. Zoran thinks he has pulled one over on us by grouping all the bandits together, BUT I am glad he DID! There has been a little too much bullshit going on for my liking. People want to be King. I get it. Well. I will show them all, first hand, I will knock respect into the rest of the KGB and show them why I am the leader. Why I am the FOUNDER! Not just of the KGB but the entire SWAT!

Bruno : Yes! That’s what I want to hear! The man who stood by me, when I was injured and too old to go anymore in the ring but found a spot for me. The man who doesn’t take SHIT from NO ONE!

Soutter : These kids dawg, they confuse being staunch, and being loyal and being THE CENTRE OF FUCKING ATTENTION with the whispers they tell each other behind corners. Justifying where they think they should be compared to where they ARE!

Rule of the Jungle and Street is simple, want to be King, to take the Throne?

Here is your chance Timeless! I saw something in you, I saw something in every Bandit and that’s why you are a Bandit. Make no mistake, I didn’t get to where I am by not knowing who was coming up behind me.

Bruno : It’s time Boss. Time to lay down the law.

Soutter : Damn straight. You know what Bruno, my whole career, I have won so many titles, I have beaten them all. I know where I stand and so do the rest of the community. Every legend who wants to retire, they want to do so against ME! One thing I haven’t done though, is win this Anzac Cup. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, I know I don’t need to win it, but boy, wouldn’ it be nice.

Bruno : You got the partner to make it happen.

Soutter : That I do big man. Fierce is our blood. We came up together. WE founded the Bandits. He and I! And Hunglestein. All them years ago. You can’t manufacture relationships like that. Years and years and years, on the road, having each others backs, it’s like you are part of each other.

The limo pulls up to a stop and the driver gets out and opens the door and Suit and Bruno exit and start walking thru the garage and walk to the elevator.

Soutter : Timeless! Are you a Captain or a Sailor?

I’m a Captain! I’m the Suit!

The Big Bad Bustling Bandit!

Mad Dog Paulie Mutha Fucken Soutter!

The Centre of Attention!

The Master of the Powerslam!

I got the Skill to Thrill!

The Name to Entertain!

I’m Loud and Proud and Well Endowed!

I am about to win the Anzac Cup with the man this all started with, and I like it like that!

[eddied]

(Eddie D and Trent Jones are in a small gym, a warm up area in the arena. Trent Jones is struggling with a set of weights and Eddie dives in quickly to help him.)

TRENT: What the fuck dude?!

EDDIE: What? I wasn’t going to spot you ‘cause it looked like a warm up weight.

TRENT: It was meant to be… where the fuck did that assistant go? He was just here? Green top, blue shorts? That kid tried to fucking injure me?!!

(The weight is safely off of Trent and secure in the rests. Eddie looks at the numbers marked on the weights and feels the weight himself and baulks under the strain.)

EDDIE: Shit you’re right. There’s no way on Earth that’s 100 lbs, that’s more like 300 lbs.

TRENT: I can bench that, but not without a warm up and not when I wasn’t even fucking expecting it…

EDDIE: That wasn’t a dig, I was agreeing with you… They tried to fuck with you. I wonder who paid that kid to do that? KGB? The Society? SWAT HQ?

TRENT: Whoever it was they’re going to regret it. If It’s Rally or Tuxedo Mask I will fucking kill them. Literally kill them, like I said before....

EDDIE: I thought we got past this…

TRENT: Whatever man… I know this is gonna be personal for me tonight even if you don’t see it that way. How would you treat a wrestler that hurt one of your precious dancers?! That fit as fuck bit of arse from the other day? Savannah? They created the fucking mistake where I hurt Molly?!! I want to fill the Anzac Cup with their fucking blood!

EDDIE: You’re right... You're right. If it was one of my girls I would want blood too. They’ve hurt your girl and now you’re picking out a headstone for them. I get it. I’m on board. We’ll fuck these guys up tonight.

TRENT: Finally singing from the same hymn book, just that I am writing obituaries in the margins and you’re just singing…

(Eddie shakes his head in bemusement at how his tag partner had become so obsessed and homicidal. He gets back on topic...)

EDDIE: This day just keeps getting weirder. First the main entrance access list bull-crap, moving us from one set of changing rooms to another for no reason, the lock getting stuck on the toilet door, now this? ...

(The public address system jumps into life with a chime and a message)

PA SYSTEM: Bing Bong… Would the owner of the following vehicle please move their motorbike, Licence plate number “ED - D - 69”. The bike is in a non-valid parking space. If you do not move it, it will be moved and crushed at your expense. Thank you… Bong Bing...

EDDIE: This is really taking the piss. I don’t want to abandon my warm up just to move my bike. It was in a bay marked for motor bikes only? How more valid could that be?

TRENT: It’s OK dude. We dealt with Bruce the uptight door man. We bit our tongue and moved locker room like they asked. We kicked the hinges off of that toilet door…

EDDIE: What about the bike?

TRENT: This is the reason that you're in a biker gang. I have friends in biker gangs all over the world. I’ll make a call. Some Melbourne guys will move your bike wherever they need it moving to and we’ll get back on track here.

EDDIE: Sweet...



EDDIE: Shall we get something to eat?

TRENT: Hell no.

EDDIE: ...because of all the tampering and disruptions?

TRENT: No, because it’s Australia; they’re food fucking sucks. The food will be some bush tucker trial bullshit.

EDDIE: Emu sweet meats served on a bed of wallaby cocks?

TRENT: Ostrich egg witchetty grubs omelette and crocodile dundee cake for afters?

(They both laugh and are about to return to the training when Eddie’s stomach growls loudly enough for them both to stop and hear it.)

EDDIE: I think I need to take a chance on some catering dude.

TRENT: Well it's your arse... literally. If they see it’s you, they’ll probably be under orders to give you some doctored meal to give you the shits or something. You need to go in disguise.

EDDIE: Easier said than done. Once you’re this shape and size it’s kinda hard not to get recognized. Hang on. None of the catering staff will know who that new evil dude with El Combatiente really is right?.

TRENT: Lord Dominicus? I guess not...

EDDIE: He’s never toured with SWAT in Australia before. He’s just a name on a list to them. I’ll see what I can find around here disguise wise and go for it.
Double check any of these weights before you attempt any lifts without me, right?

TRENT: Nag, fucking nag… You’ll make someone a swell wife one day.

EDDIE: Worst... proposal... ever. Didn’t even get down on one knee...

(Eddie smiles and heads off into the backstage. We find him later near the ring entrance way.)

EDDIE: The disguise worked. I’m fed and watered... These Aussie guys know their way around a BBQ shrimp I'll give them that much.
Now I really need some butter to get this damned mask off. It came off to eat for God’s sake… 



(Eddie gets lucky and pries the mask off his face and takes a big intake of air. He looks pleased but catches a glimpse of himself in a polished metal door.)

EDDIE: Wow. Of the stupid shit I have done to get food… This has to be the dumbest yet.
If Trent sees me like this he’ll rib me for an age.
Got to get out of this stuff and into my wrestling gear pronto...
This place is a God damned maze...

(Eddie treads carefully away, trying to find his way back to the locker rooms. Scene fades to black and ends.)

[Trent Jones MR Bones.]

*Previously Recorded*

Trent Jones is sitting at the steps off the burned down Ryders ClubHouse. Trents gold-plated motorcycle is parked out front. Trent looks very frustrated. He opens a beer and takes a sip as he looks down at his feet. He is dressed in blue jeans and he has a long sleeve Brothers In Anarchy Shirt that has those words on the arms. He has on his Ryders vest and a Killin It Beanie. He has his belt mounted to the front of his bike and it is strapped down.

Trent Jones shakes his head, “How could I possibly fuck this up with Molly this bad. I first use the slumpbuster so I can become world champion. Then I don’t take her calls, I leave a shit message. She flies to see me and then I accidently hit her with the fucking mayo jar. Then I….”

***scene changes to the back stage of the last show***

The medical staff is looking over Molly. She is looking at the medical staff but she is looking past them searching for Trent. The medical staff member put the ice pack on her head. They wrap her head to keep it in place. She signs some forms and she gets up and looks for Trent. She heads to his locker room. She knocks on the door. He doesn't answer so she opens the door. She looks around the room, Layton Cook walks in behind her. She turns and sees Layton. She has never meet him but she knows him from watching SWAT on XHF.


Layton Cook, “He is gone Molly I am sorry. Look he…”

Molly quickly stopped him in his track her voice became loud, “Stop… OF FUCKING course he isn't here. Why would I think he would be here. Again I try and he quickly bails on me. Probably got him another slut. Hell I am so stupid to think he wanted me.”

Molly started crying and Laytoon Cook wasn’t sure how to handle this. He handed her a small bag and walked off. Molly opened the bag and in it was a bunch of cash and a note that said I am sorry. Molly didn’t realize Trent left because he had physically hurt her. She took it as Sorry I don’t want to be with you.

*** back at the burned down Ryder club house***

Trent knew Layton had given Molly the money and said she cried… Trent felt pain in his chest, Hegel this bad for Molly and knew he was no good for her. Damn he was in a dark place, a place that wasn’t good for him. But it was really not good for the tag champs that had to face Trent and Eddie D together.

Trent in his head pictured bashing the skulls of every wrestler in SWAT in the head with a Mayo jar. Trent lets a little chuckle as he slams the jar into another wrestler head. He opens his eyes and realizes he was just day dreaming. He reaches for his pill bottles in his pocket and washes them down with the beer.

“Look Jackson and Tuxedo Mask, it’s not personal, well let’s just face it you both are complete trash and I am going to fucking destroy you both. Tuxedo please for the love of god remember what I did to you when I first came to SWAT just a couple months ago. I am going to bash your skull in, then I am going to place a plastic bag over your head and then I am going to cause you to drown from your own blood. Lucky for you the funeral home will receive your body already dressed for your showing. To say either of you have a chance against Eddie D and Trent Jones you would have to be a fucking {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore}. Let me make sure that came across. If you said the Brothers in Anarchy would lose against these two… you would be the {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} in the {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} classroom that all the other Tards would be mocking.”

Trent laughs for a moment and then speaks out, “look I know Eddie D is more political correct than me, he likes to put you down and at the same time give you credit to make the win look bigger. But let’s face it deep down he knows your all shit. Look I am not going to kiss anyone’s ass I am the champion and it’s only a matter of time 'til we are the tag champs here as well.” Trent looks at his title belt on his bike.

Trent sips away again at his beer as he walks to the side and turns his back to the camera. The sound of someone pissing is heard, “look Jackson don’t worry I am planning to bash your fucking head in as well and I might just skull fuck you after. I am not gay but a skull fucking is a skull fucking. Look should I respect you and the answer is no. My ego some say is big and that I look past trash like you… but that’s not true right now I am focused on you 2 tag chumps. I personally look forward to destroying you and beating the living hell out of you both. Trust me I never look past a fight, I love to fight and I love to hurt people. So don’t expect me to get a quick pin I want to hurt you both and embarrass you both. You see you drew the match against the number one seed. Good news is your night will be over early.” Trent shakes himself and zips back up. He walks over to his bike.

Once he reaches his bike he looks back at the old club house site and reaches for his cell. He dials Alex Stone, Laywer and member of the ryders.

“What up axe bone? Look man I am ready let’s get them out here re building this mother fucker club house and tell them I want it to look just like the old one”

Trent hung up the phone the Ryder Return was now and he was ready to rebuild the old club house. They had the money now and they would have the guys work around the clock.

Trent sat on his bike and he looked at Molly's Facebook page and he looked at the pictures. He could see of her, the real Molly behind the selfies. He loved this woman but he would only hurt her if he tried to stay around. Trent put his phone in his pocket as he had to ride to the airport and get his bike loaded and shipped. Another flight but this time he’s going to carry on his meds.

**** Melbourne, Australia****

Trent was in a local watering hole or whatever you call them when you're down under. Trent was having a drink and he really was trying to forget Molly but the more she thought of her the more he still wanted to hurt everyone in SWAT. Sure blaming everyone in SWAT for the Mayo jar accident is crazy but let’s face it. Trent was going to do what Trent is going to do.

Trent grabs another drink as Eddie D makes his way into the bar. He sits down next to Trent and both guys look at each other but neither speak at first.

“You know Eddie, I am going to make them all pay for this!”

Eddie knows it’s not the whole SWAT roster fault. He wanted to reason with him but this is the most focused he has ever seen Trent on a match or anything to be honest. Eddie ordered a drink and stayed quiet for a minute.

Eddie turned towards Trent and turns back, “Look Trent, They took a shit in my kit bag. Treating that idiot like a puppy and rubbing his damned nose in his own mess was satisfying, but I ain't usually a forgive and forget kinda guy. We're straight, we shook hands on our feud, but the tag champs aren't in line for a free pass and a handshake just yet; you earned your handshake with blood and respect. I want to deliver a hurting to these punks as much as you do. Don't make it about Molly though dude. Hate them for hating's sake. Tie it up with that accident with the jar and it might affect your focus… “

Trent didn’t really listen to it all as he was thinking again about how bad he wanted to hurt… no destroy tux and Jackson. “I agree we need to cut these fuckers throats and we need to make them pay. They must all pay for this… Eddie You have to be honest with me are you willing to murder these fucks if need be?”

Once again Eddie wants to win but face it he isn’t going to the murderer anyone over what happened… “Trent have you taken your meds, because you're acting like you haven’t. I have seen some fucked up shit happen in a squared circle. I have put people in hospital before, but I'm not sure killing people is part of the deal. Our Tag Finisher, The Get BonEd, is probably the most brutal finisher I've ever seen or come up with. Those poor bastards we sparred with still aren't out of hospital. I say we try that out for size on these dicks and see how much damage that does. ”

Trent looks at Eddie slightly suspiciously "So you won't help me? If it comes down to it!?"

Eddie sighs and looks Trent square in the eyes. "If you slap on the Lights Out Mother Fucker and you keep it locked in… I
I won't break it… no oxygen to the brain will get the result you want… I will even make sure the tag partner doesn't break it up either… Then it's down to you, the referee and your own bonkers need to go to jail. You can blame the pills, but it's a weak defense. I hoped my tag team work with you would last longer than one match. I didn't sign up to watch you get 25 to life. Don't throw away a title reign to be proud of and a pair of tag belts we set our hopes on… “

Trent smiles and takes another sip, “I am glad you're my man. I was worried for a minute you were going to be a bitch and say you weren't going to kill them.”

Eddie looks hard at Trent. "That's not my preferred option Trent. I disappear off to jail with you and the club will probably go under and sadly some of the girls could end up on the streets. Again. I don't have any conscience when it comes to hurting people, but what you're proposing… has repercussions. I don't need a prison sentence. You have people that rely on you too. You are rebuilding the clubhouse, the Ryders need you, you have unfinished business with Molly regardless of how far apart you look now…”

Those words were hollow for Trent… Eddie D still had not realized the darkness level inside Trent were at a high the demons he battles weekly were taking over. The meds when he took them only took the edge off but it wasn’t going to silence them. Thought Trent had nothing but evil running through his veins he knew he had to hide them. The last thing he wanted was SWAT to remove him from the roster and make him get help. He had to find a way to hide these dark desires. More importantly he needed to take a piss.

“Damn I need to piss…”

Trent excused himself and headed to the bathroom. He stood at the urinal and whipped it out. He was still picturing him beating Tuxedo Mask face in with a Mayo jar. He didn’t notice, he forgot that he had his covid dick protection on. He looked down and saw a giant condom piss balloon. He slowly tried to get the condom off. Another guy came in and saw Trent tugging near his dick and he left.

“Dude, don’t go… come back I need another hand.”

The door slammed shut. The champion was fucked he still wasn’t done pissing and he had to let it go. The condom was stretching more as he pissed more into it. Trent was frustrated and at this point he was like I need


to call Eddie D. Trent holds the piss condom with his right hand and dials with his left.

“Hello…please tell me your not taking a huge dump and calling me”

Trent was slow to respond

“Trent?”

Finally he spoke up, “look...I um… well I had a situation.”

“Did you shit yourself Trent (long pause). Oh my you did shit yourself?”

Trent was almost wishing he had. He would have just thrown his boxers in the trash. This was serious. He had a piss balloon bomb that was ready to explode.

“Just come in here please!”

Eddie D was really not sure how to proceed or what was about to happen. Eddie walks in and sees Trent's back. Trent turns and the look on Eddie face screams what the Fuck.

“This above and beyond the call of brotherhood dude. Pop it and have done with the mess, or ease the thing off and hope it doesn't explode in your face. It's a great metaphor for your mad murdering ideas too. Good luck with that, I am out of here amigos.”

Just like that Trent was alone once more but at least for a minute he wasn’t picturing the death of SWAT wrestlers. Instead he was focused on not taking a golden shower from a piss bomb. All in all it was time to get it off. Trent reaches for the condom and……….

To be continued shows on the screen as it fades to black.

[The Dunne Deal]

Location: Travis Monroe's New Apartment in San Jose, CA.

Monroe stands in the middle of the front room surrounded by stacks of unpacked boxes. He looks down at his phone, and smiles a slight smirk, before taking in a deep breathe to bask in the sun as it comes through the window. He walks over to Wellington Dunne, his Saga stablemate, who just happens to be helping his friend move into his new place and slaps him hard in the back. Causing Dunne to drop the box he was carrying, and it's contents to sprawl out onto the floor.

Monroe: "You smell that?"

Monroe says taking in another deep breath as grabs Dunne in a side headlock.

Dunne: "Yeah! It's called Old Spice, man. Jesus! You could kill someone with that."

Dunne pushes Monroe off of him.

Monroe: "No. That my friend is the smell of change, of success."

Dunne: "All I smell is dust and orange soda, but if that's what success smells like to you, more power to you."

Monroe looks unamused.

Monroe: "It's a figure of speech, Dunne. What I mean this could be the start of everything turning around for us. Of The Saga building itself back up, our rising from the Flames like a Phoenix. So to speak.

Dunne: "I guess. I mean... Sorry, I'm just not seeing it."

Monroe: "Look after Sniper got put on the shelf, you can look me dead in the eye, and tell everything was OK with us."

Dunne: "Well, no, but what does that have to do with us.?

Monroe: "Everything. The Saga is a well-oiled machined, but we only work as a sum of the whole parts. I'm the computer the part that makes it all work. You are the mechanical elements doing all the heavy lifting. And Joe. Joe is the man behind the scenes pushing all the buttons to make the machine function. But Johnny... Oh, Johnny was our repairman, able to fix anything that went awry, but when our machine seized up when we try to push it without taking look at the damage we had caused it. We broke it even further. And we left Johnny a mess to deal with."

Dunne: "So what are you suggesting we do instead?"

Monroe: "We help him fix it. The plans are already set in motion. We are no longer focused slowly on winning, but learning. Improving ourselves based more on our losses than our victories. Johnny is planning on having a good showing in the Rumble, and the 3 of us will be there to support him all the way. Just like me and you are planning to have a good showing in the Anzac Cup."

Dunne: "So what your saying is...?"

Monroe: "Our goal isn't to win it. It's to make them think we should have."

*Scene Fades*

[Justin]

-Some time ago.
-Some other place.

Kirby Jackson sat alone in the dressing room of an operation smaller than the one he finds himself involved with in the present day. He’d wrestled his first match for that particular promotion a while earlier in a pre-show match, taped for later airing. This is the very same show in which he’d first met Lunchbox Larry.

The two of them awkwardly hit it off while discussing a flier for the upcoming Anzac Cup in SWAT; a promotion that neither had worked for in the past. Their conversation ended in the decision to team up and see how they would fare in said tag team tournament. It came together pretty quickly, actually, and Kirby agreed to wait on Larry’s main event title match before leaving the building so the two of them could get some dinner. Ya know; get to know each other, and maybe get started on the strategy for their newly shared undertaking.

Kirby watched the Main Event match and knew Larry lost… not only the match, but also the Championship he was defending. He’d only just met the big lug but still he felt a pang of sorrow for his loss. He’d been waiting on Larry to return, ready for a sappy mess. For several minutes after the match ended, despite Kirby’s best efforts, a bit of annoyance began to settle in.

After another few minutes the door opened. In walked the now former champion. Kirby eyeballed him just a bit but spoke up, hoping to keep the big guy’s spirits up.

“Saw the match, man,” Kirby started. “Tough break out there…”

Larry nodded.

“Yeah, that guy was somethin’ else. Wicked good.”

Kirby raised an eyebrow. Larry seemed entirely, inexplicably … something.

The Charismatic Dragon pushed, “Where’ve you been?”

Larry started unwrapping his wrist tape, going through the motions without the upbeat swagger that Kirby just knew was a part of every possible minute of Larry’s regular everyday life.

Lunchbox hesitated just enough to be noticable.

And he knew it. So he caved.

“Can I tell you something? Just between us?”

Kirby blinked. He wasn’t exactly used to being anyone’s confidant. At the same time, he knew that the secret to a successful tag team was trust; this could be the first step.

“Yeah, man,” Kirby nodded. “What’s up?”

“The UTA is closing.” Larry’s head dropped.

“The fuck? It just rebranded!” Kirby was hot in a hurry, UTA was a big deal and it wasn’t supposed to just poof itself out of existence. Lunchbox gave a shrug.

“I guess we lost so much money working with no audience out there tonight that the boss doesn’t think we’ll be able to ride out this Coronavirus thing.”

Kirby’s face scrunched like his nose was a black hole.

“So?”

Larry’s large arms spread like an eagle, but this time it’s not a positive.

“So he’s gonna cut bait instead of dumping more money, apparently. I don’t really know. All this is way above my pay-grade… Anyway, you can’t tell anybody. Company’s not going public with this until next week.”

Kirby let that settle in for a hot minute. UTA was supposed to be his big break. He took note of Larry’s body language and quickly decided that something was still… off.

“Well this is fucked…” He thought for a moment. “What’re you gonna do?”

A sigh of relief escaped from Larry as he sat down and started unlacing his boots. Kirby’s eyes narrowed, watching Larry like a hawk.

“Honestly, I think I’m gonna go home. This place was too much. FWF was one thing. Home away from home, but the buyout and everything… UTA has so much history, so much to live up to…” He trailed off momentarily. Starry eyed. “And then I had that Raging Dead guy stalking me and making life hell…”

Lunchbox trailed off again, avoiding Kirby’s glare.

“So, you’re just gonna up and quit?”

“Well, I mean-”

“What happened to going to Australia,” Kirby demanded. “What happened to the tag team?”

Larry’s right hand palm smacks his forehead. “OOF! I totally forgot!”

“Of course you did.”

Kirby, on the verge of a tantrum, stood up to leave. He grabbed his bag and made for the door where he was blocked by Larry, who as it turned out was a lot quicker than anybody of his size had any right to be. The hairs on the back of Kirby’s neck straightened out like a soldier at attention but the smaller grappler did his best to suppress the urge to say or do something outlandish.

“Come on man,” Larry urged. “Gimme a break, pretty please?”

Kirby eyeballed him. “Fine.”

Larry was immediately back in super-excited mode, he looked like one of those chicks out of a manga that had just found out that she’d been accepted to Tentacle High School or whatever.

“Don’t make me regret this, my dude.” Kirby was justifiably anxious. “I kinda put all of my eggs in the UTA basket, man. Now, I got nowhere else to go if this doesn’t work.”

Larry got serious. Kirby nodded.

“This has to work.”

---

-Right here.
-Right now.

You know those places in every single goddamned promotion on the planet where guys cut promos for TV? Yeah, SWAT has a couple of them, and that’s where this little shindig is going down.

Standing in front of a giant SWAT logo background is the hottest new tag team since peanut butter met jelly, and according to certain dirtsheets the team destined to put on a really good match in a loss to Bloodied Zen Romance in the first round! For the uninitiated, that team consists of Lunchbox Larry and his partner Kirby Jackson, better known to you dweebs as K-JAX!

Off to the right is the shiniest of shinies, the gigantic Anzac Cup itself. It glimmers in such a way that it brings a tear to your eyes.

K-JAX:
“I get the feelin’ that ol’ Bloodied Fox is sleepin’ on us, Larr.”

Kirby stands front and center, his wonderfully-crafted tutone mullet is brushed up and pushed back in such a way that you’re revisiting every white trash wet dream you’ve ever had, especially if you notice the freshly carved flames shaved into the hair around his ears on either side. His eyes are hidden behind the shiniest set of pink mirror-shaded aviators that’ve ever been produced and a single shining surgical steel ring sits pierced through his right nostril.

Lunchbox:
“That sounds like a wicked good plan!”

Larry, for his part, stands slightly behind Kirby and to the left. Not because he’s any lesser of a man than Kirby, or because of some kind of blundering hierarchy between them, but because he’s so much bigger than Kirby and the dynamic works better that way. Larry’s got on his orange and black wrestling singlet with his trademarked lunchbox brandished in his left hand.

Lunchbox:
“I hope he doesn’t decide to stick to it.”

Larry winks, was that sarcasm? From Larry?! Kirby turns his attention away from his partner and he stares dead through the camera, right at Bloodied Wolf.

K-JAX:
“Alright, guy, you had your five minutes to get that bullshit out of your system.”

Jackson’s rocking a mauve ascot, pink and white arm-bands with streamers, a turquoise tiger-striped fanny-pack and and his favorite pair of extra-smedium pink lycra trunks. Matching knee-pads and short boots make up the ensemble.

Oh, and that mane of chest hair? Immaculate.

K-JAX:
“You’ve rambled on about your boyfriend, your best friend, your best friend’s boyfriend, your other best friend, you’ve put over AWF like you’ve got a sponsorship with a quota and you’ve name-dropped J-Rok like it’s anything other than the only place that’d give your boyfriend a job.

“After that you wasted a fair few gallons of oxygen doo-dooing Caffrey, Zoran, Team Fairtex, the SWAT Tag Team Titles and pretty much everything about this place.

“First you wasted all of that time and effort on people that don’t matter in places that this tournament isn’t happening in, then when you finally got around to remembering where you are for this tournament you put more effort into talking trash about people you’re never gonna get the pleasure of meeting in the ring when Larry and myself bounce your sorry asses right out of the Anzac Cup because you and your partner that’s your partner can’t be bothered with taking us seriously.”

Behind Kirby, Lunchbox Larry shoots an eyebrow up.

Lunchbox:
“Wait a minute, his what that’s a what now?”

Kirby glares at Larry with comically murderous intent.

K-JAX:
“His partner. That is also his partner.”

Lunchbox:
“Like, you’re my partner, and also I’m your partner?”

The Charisma Kid stares at his cohort in slack-jawed disbelief.

K-JAX:
“Have you not been paying attention, like, at all?”

Larry shrugs innocently.

Lunchbox:
“I don’t really follow a lot of places I don’t work at.”

Kirby’s eyes narrow.

K-JAX:
“Our opponents. They’re gay. Also they’re together. Partners.”

A lightbulb goes on over Larry’s head.

Lunchbox:
“Oh… OH! Okay! Um, question?”

K-JAX:
“Yeah?”

Lunchbox:
“How exactly does that matter? Like, at all? Are we supposed to be impressed? Grossed out? Mad? It’s 2020 out here, my Uncle William is married to my Aunt Seamus. Seamus was also born with a ding-a-ling, if ya couldn’t catch the hint. They love each other as much as my Uncle Steve and Aunt Glena. What’s so special about these two goons again?”

K-JAX:
“Don’t look at me, I get more ass than a rubber fist. I’m not super picky, either. What I don’t do is spend my every waking moment making sure everybody with ears knows what my personal proclivities are, though, because once we step into the ring together exactly none of that shit matters.

“Not one eensie-weensie tiny little bit.”

Larry slaps Kirby on the shoulder enthusiastically.

Lunchbox:
“You tell ‘em, Kirbs!”

Jackson snaps eyes at Larry again.

K-JAX:
“For the love of God and everything you hold holy, Larry. Don’t ever call me that again.”

Larry giggles. It’s as awkward as you can imagine such a large man giggling would be. Kirby turns his attention back to Bloodied Fox.

K-JAX:
“So, good for you, Foxy, you get to have your cake and eat it too. I’m happy that you’re happy that your boyfriend is your partner who is your partner that is your boyfriend, now do the rest of us a favor and shut the fuck up about it, ‘kay bro?

“This ain’t AWF, my dude.

“What that means is that your sexual orientation ain’t gonna get you any special consideration around here. Neither is the fact that you kinda sorta might have used to kind of pal around with the Global Tag Champs, either. What’s much more likely to happen is that you’ll lose in the first round, to me and my guy Larry, and in the process we’ll expose you as the fourth-string also-rans that you and everybody else already knows that you are.”

Kirby smirks.

K-JAX:
“I mean, seriously dude, you said it yourself, you’re the plucky underdog that everybody takes pity on. Oh, wait, I mean, you’re totally not that anymore! You’re totally a threat now and to prove it you’ve gone and come to a place that you’ve accused Caffrey of going to so he could be a big fish in a small pond, and you’ve joined a tournament in a division that you’ve already screamed from the mountaintops about how far beneath you that it is.”

His eyes roll involuntarily.

K-JAX:
“Do you even listen to the stupid shit that falls out of your mouth?

“Do you really think that coolguy nonsense scares anybody?

“Spoiler alert, nephew, it don’t. If you don’t start takin’ me and Larry real seriously real fast, it’s gonna be real bad news for you and Brendon! Ya see we ain’t out to prove no points to nobody but ourselves! While you two might be auditioning for a part in Days of our LGBTKO Lives K-JAX and The Box are out here trying to take advantage of an opportunity that may not come our way again if we don’t capitalize right here…

“Tonight!”

Larry steps up enthusiastically.

Lunchbox:
“YEAH! Suck on tha-”

Kirby raises a hand to stop his partner right then and there.

K-JAX:
“Bottom line is this: I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t give a shit about what makes your dick hard.”

Larry’s eyes pop like a little kid when their parents say a naughty word.

K-JAX:
“The ONLY. And I mean the ONLY thing I care about…”

Kirby’s smirk goes a mile wide as his eyes wander to the Anzac Cup situated only a few short feet away from him.

K-JAX:
“...is winning that big shiny gold cup. And NOTHING is stopping ME from that.”

Jackson snarls as he steps out of view.

Larry gracelessly steps in.

Lunchbox:
“An’ that goes for me too, BUB!”

He lingers for a moment, eventually winking and nodding at the camera and following his partner off-screen and into the aether.

[Timeless]

[Orion - Eternity (Chillout Version) hits and Turner struts down the aisle, glaring at the crowd with contempt and disgust. Roxylishus stops to interact with one of the crowd, then wretches and turns away heading to the ring, she gets up on the apron and holds the ropes down for Turner.

Roxylishus grabs the mic and passes it to Turner.]

Timeless : I got passion in my pants and i aint afraid to show it.

Crowd : I’M, SEXY AND I KNOW IT!

Timeless : No (holding his hand up to block them) Your not! I (points to himself with his thumb) AM!

[Timeless saunters smugly around the ring impressed with himself.]

Timeless : Back to back baby! That’s what we have in store for tonight! When the 2019 Anzac Cup winner becomes the first person ever to not only win it TWICE! But Back to fn’ BACK!

Roxylishus : Don’t forget how you are going to win the XHF Royal rumble also, in the SAME week!

Timeless : Oh, I don’t forget, and neither do any of them.

[Crowd boo’s. A few cheer.]

Roxylishus : And don’t forget how I am going to become the first FEMALE to win the Cup!

Timeless : Damn straight.

Roxylishus : Check it out. I am the toughest person in the whole Cup. Take a look at this stud right here, what a specimen. I am so tough, I take a pounding from that machine of a man each and every night! Voluntarily!

Timeless : They don’t call me Mr Vitality for nothing.

Roxylishus : Let me tell you, he is a WHOLE lot of MAN! He is, I don’t mind saying also, a vigorous lover. He tosses me around and does things to me even I can’t mention here, and I take it all. If I can take that, a few body slams and leg locks is childs play.

Timeless : Training never sounded so fun.

Roxylishus : You know what else is childs play? Beating Team Fairtex in round one. You hear them kissing our ass and saying we are going to make it all the way to the end, and win the Cup, even though they are set to face us in the first round, why? Because we are ‘stable mates’?

Timeless : I gave up trying to understand their thought process looooong ago.

Roxylishus : What about the Founder? He was talking tough, saying he was glad we are all grouped together by Zoran and wants to law down the law and teach us all a lesson in respect.

Timeless : I saw, you know, it saddens me to say, but i have lost all respect for him. He was once like a father to me, he and Joe took me under their wings, and then the way he just walked away, and watched Joe get ran out of the fed, It is something I just can not let go or get past.

Roxylishus : He brags of being loyal and staunch, but where was his loyalty for Pesci?

Timeless : No where!

Roxylishus : Let’s go back to the XHF Royal Rumble for a moment, that was some mighty big effort of a campaign you just waged over here in the lead up to the match.

Timeless : Honestly, I couldn’t be more pleased with the output, if I may be so bold as to say so myself.

Roxylishus : Me either, I couldn’t be prouder of you. One thing I have noticed too, is that all these people keep calling me your WIFE!

Timeless : What do you expect from the simpletons we work with.

Roxylishus : Well, you know, it might be nice ....

Timeless : All right. Let’s do this. If we win the ... no wait ... WHEN we win the Anzac Cup. We will celebrate next Battleground, with a wedding, live on the show! What do you say about that?

Roxylishus : I say .... I DO!!!

[Roxylishus jumps up and down excitedly and jumps into Timeless’ arms and he catches her and she gives him a big smooch. He paces he back down.]

Timeless : I am SIR WINSALOT.

We are the KGB.

We like to Root and we make all the Loot!

We take out the Trash, and collect all the Cash!

We break your heart and tear you apart!

We make Stacks and break backs!

I’ll rupture your spleen and knock you out clean!

I am the Ultimate Male Supreme!

Every breathing Woman’s Wet Dream!

A God Damn Wrestling Machine!

Roxylishus : Swish swish mutha fucker!

Un fade able.

[lunchboxlarry]

A blast from the past.

“You’re going where?! With HIM? Where is this all coming from? This isn’t like you, Larry.” The voice is unfamiliar, but clearly comes with a parental tone. “Did he get you hooked on drugs?!”

Quick pause as Larry’s eyes pop out of their sockets.

He’s outside in the twilight of a Las Vegas night. Hunkered down on the sidewalk curb outside UTA’s small arena, if you’ve ever seen a giant try to sit on one you’d feel his obvious discomfort.

He’s head to toe in his typical black sweatsuit, featuring his logo: two big orange L’s standing back to back. His black hair glimmers under the flickering streetlight. The beard looks unkempt; it’s been a tough week between losing his UTA Championship followed by the fed’s closure.

His orange lunchbox sits beside him. His cell, on speaker, rests atop it.

Resume.

“MA! Sheesh!” Larry exclaims, a bit defensively. “Kirb’s not like that!” His face scrunches. “I don’t think?”

A male voice, safely assumed as Larry’s dad, comes across the speaker, “Wait you mean teh tell me yer headed down undah with that Jackson fella?”

Larry nods as if they were FaceTiming, but they aren’t.

“Larry?” His dad isn’t a patient man. “Isn’t that the one with the hair?”

An L-BOX eye roll.

“Yeah, dad… he has hair.”

The wisecrack went unappreciated.

“Ya know whaddeye meant. He’s that weird lookin’ fella. Dresses all flamboyant like Aunt Seamus?”

Larry grins as memories of his uncle’s life partner flood his mind. Plus, the nickname always hits his funny bone.

“Yeah, he does kinda dress like Aunt Seamus now that I think on it.” Larry’s eyes grow distant in contemplation. “Wait, what’s your point?”

A heavy sigh comes out of the phone’s speaker.

“Yer mom and I love you no matter what, you know that right Larry? Ya can tell us anything.” The sincerity of his father’s tone is strong.

Larry’s face blushes lobster red as his eyes open wide.

“Dad! I’m not. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m-” He pauses to consider his next words. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it, though.”

“Well your father is right, LarrBear.” His mother chimes in, featuring his embarrassing childhood nickname. “We love you so much. None of that matters. And anyone who thinks it does is a loser. Plain and simple. We just want you to be happy, is all.”

Larry’s demeanor calms with his mother’s reassuring words. He smiles. Then begins to wonder…

“Nah.” He mutters you himself, under his breath, while shaking his head.

He squints his eyes as he’s suddenly illuminated by the headlights of a vehicle pulling up to him. The car looks like a chopped up, black Jetta with hot pink racing stripes.

“Anywho, I gotta go. Kirb’s here to pick me up for dinner.”

Awkward silence.

“We love you, Larry.” The mom reiterates.

“Remember that, son. Now go have a beer and a bite of steak for your old man!” His dad delivers the light-hearted request mostly in jest as an attempt to end on a more positive vibe.

Larry sucks in his teeth and rubs the back of his neck uneasily.

“It’s ummm, a vegan spot. See, Kirb’s a-”

CLICK.

Well now we know what Larry’s dad really hates.

~~~

Back to the future.

(A pair of blue eyes, so bright they look fake, stare you down like a fox does its prey. Luckily for the health your screen, the picture zooms out to reveal a very serious Lunchbox Larry.)

(He’s suited up in his black and orange wresting uni. His muscles twitch, already oiled up, looking like they could break through the skin stretching to cover them.)

(With the baby blues still electric, and unblinking, Larry suddenly smiles wide.)

(His strong arms spread eagle.)

Lunchbox:
How aboutcha, MELBOURNE?!?

(He reels his arms back in, bringing his hands together.)

Lunchbox:
Gotta say, the plane trip sucked. BUT! I honestly couldn’t be happier visiting this wicked awesome country of yours!

(He allows time for the second cheap pop to die down.)

Lunchbox:
Can you feel it? The energy. The excitement. THE HUNGER FROM DOWN UNDER!

(Larry’s brows furrowed.)

Lunchbox:
That didn’t- whatever!

(He points an accusatory finger at you.)

Lunchbox:
Vegemite, though.

(Pouty face.)

Lunchbox:
Just sayin’. Woulda been nice to know you don’t spread it like peanut butter!

(A doglike headshake tries to throw the memory out of his brain. He closes his eyes, bringing both hands up to rub their respective temple on each side of his head.)

Lunchbox:
Stay on track, Larr. Remember what Kirb said.

(The eyes open back up. His renewed, laser focus is almost blinding.)

Lunchbox:
Now joke time’s over.

(He tilts his head until his neck cracks.)

Lunchbox:
I would like to send a sincere apology to Brendan and Bloodied Fox. My good buddy, Kirby Jackson… well, take it from me, dude can get mean quick.

(His eyes turn soft and sympathetic.)

Lunchbox:
But that diatribe he delivered earlier. Damn. I know if that was directed my way, I’d be crying myself to sleep at night. For, like, a week.

(Larry slowly shakes his head.)

Lunchbox:
Now, ideally Kirbs would be here with me to extend this olive branch. But he had to get a manicure before the big match. I’m sure you two understand that. Something about not wanting to break any nails while breaking your faces. I dunno.

(He shrugs.)

Lunchbox:
So we’re sorry. And it would be totally bunk of us not to appreciate the opportunity to fight such a groundbreaking duo like Bloodied Zen Romance.

(Slow clap.)

Lunchbox:
Honestly, you guys are impressive. In and out of the ring. And your experience and history are nothin’ to shake a stick at. Phoenix Champ. Not to mention, you’ve held the XHF Tag Titles, too! I just hope you guys showered before celebrating Fox’s big win that night. Hygiene prevents herpes!!

(It doesn’t.)

Lunchbox:
A magical journey you two are on, so far. That’s for sure.

(The pointer finger returns.)

Lunchbox:
But this ain’t Hogwarts.

(Wink.)

Lunchbox:
This is the Anzac, EM-EFFING, Cup!

(You got it, the arms are spread eagled once again.)

Lunchbox:
Immortality within the reach of those that make the finals.

(His arms slowly retract. The left lowers to rest, while the right straightens and points at the camera.)

Lunchbox:
But as great as you two are, well… JAX and The Box plan to be one of those teams! SO!

(He brings his hands together, cracking his knuckles twice over.)

Lunchbox:
Fox. Brendan. I hope you two have worked up an appetite.

(He smiles.)

Lunchbox:
CUZ I’VE GOT A KNUCKLE SANDWICH!

(You can see the color of Larry’s face change as blood rushes up. He points both index fingers so forcefully at the viewers his arms are shaking.)

Lunchbox:
WITH YOUR NAMES ON IT!

(He begins to walk off camera, then stops mid-stride and turns about face to address us one last time.)

Lunchbox:
Only one sandwich though, so you boys better share!

(Cut.)

[frostbite]

A beautiful backdrop from the arena as we see the sun is just setting behind the skies here in Melbourne.

Jeremy Tucker.. ( Yawns)

Andrew Fulton.. Little sleeping there partner?

Jeremy Tucker.. We have done a lot of traveling here of late here in SWAT and maybe the time changing is catching up with me.

Andrew Fulton.. So what are you saying is that you are an old man you just can not hang anymore.

Jeremy Tucker.. Are not we not around the same age?

Andrew Fulton.. Yes, but I can go all night, and besides that is not what is her name said last night?

Jeremy Tucker.. So who is getting old, you can not remember people's names anymore.

Andrew Fulton.. No I choose not to remember big difference and besides she was ok.

The fans are still coming in, as they pouring in for tag team tournament that is being put on hand by SWAT. We see the fans wearing there favorite tee shirt, one is wearing a Society of New Breed, one young lady is wearing a KGB black and red tee shirt. A young short red headed boy is wearing a brand new Trent Jones tee shirt. As the fans continue to pile in, a white stretch limo is approaching the arena.

Jeremy Tucker.. Stars must be coming out tonight, because that is the second limo we have seen this evening.

Andrew Fulton.. Our boss was in the first one, maybe this is a movie star. Then again it could be Jennifer Lopez, I did send her an invite the other day to come and see me.

Jeremy Tucker.. You really believe that she is going to come all the way to Melbourne to see you and just dump Alex Rodriguez for you. You must really be dreaming or you hit your head on something last night with whoever you were with.

The limo finally pulls up to the arena as the back door slowly opens as a short blonde haired gent,mean wearing a black and white suit with dark brown shoes steps out, as he looks around at the crowd.

A CHORUS OF BOOS FROM THE CROWD INSIDE AND OUTSIDE OF THE ARENA......

Jeremy Tucker.. Frostbite has arrived and I must admit it arriving in style.

Andrew Fulton.. Well when you a member of the KGB this is what you can expect. I got to ask Frostbite where he got his suit from, because I like it, very stylish.

Frostbite shuts the limo door as he is about to head inside.

Jeremy Tucker.. I see Frostbite is supporting a white bandage across his forehead.

Andrew Fulton.. No thanks to our commish for booking him in that handicap match last week against Doomsday and Lucifer. You really believe that was fair?

Jeremy Tucker.. You believe Frostbite did not deserve what he got for kicking his best friends to the curb.

Andrew Fulton.. Hey, he just got rid of the dead weight and it was a lot of it that he carries around for years. He traded them in for an actually family that will look after him.

Jeremy Tucker.. Well that family appears to having cracks in its foundation of late.

Andrew Fulton.. You see you and the world wants to start these rumors everything is fine with the KGB. Families have disagreements from time to time. That is all this is.

Jeremy Tucker.. Are you Sure? Timeless and Soutter are having some issues and last week Frostbite kicked Bruno and he just walked away.

Andrew Fulton.. That kick was an accident and you know it. Frostbite and Bruno have since patched up things. I have it on good authority. I really wish you and the media would not stir up these ridiculous rumors.

Frostbite is heading toward the arena until he is cut off by Warren Webber. Warren is wearing a gray suit with black shoes.

Warren Webber.. Frostbite can I get a word with you about the Anzac Cup.

Frostbite looks at Waren with an intense look in his blue eyes.

Frostbite.. Warren, I am not in the mood for this. I have bigger fish to fry tonight. My partner and I, have a tournament to win.

Warren Webber., I just want to ask a few questions?

Frostbite.. Go ahead and fire away?

Warren Webber.. I have got to ask right off the bat. What do you think your chances of winning the Anzac tournament are?

Frostbite.. Warren, first off that is a dumb ass question to ask me? But to humor you and give you an answer I think our chances are great. I have the Amazon Champion, Joanne Canelli as my partner. A lady that is as tough as they come in this business. I know I can trust her to have my back and I have her back as well. Now, I know this will be my fourth time that I have been in this tournament and my luck as not been great. Charlie Fiegel and myself got bounced in the first round in year one. Second year, myself and Michael Maddox also got bounced in round one, but I take the blame for that because of injuries. Last year, I had a partner that I could not stand and well he could not stand me, but we were able to get to the semi finals. Tarrasque and I, after we failed. We decide to have a match afterwards and beat the hell out of each other just to get it out of our system. But this year Warren, I will use this tournament as a stepping down for bigger things to come for yours truly.

Warren Webber.. I want to get your thoughts about your first round opponents fellow KGB members Paul Soutter and his partner James Fierce.

Frostbite.. Warren I really find the humor in this. Are we really suppose to believe that your commish Voltron, and for you interrupt me Warren, I know is real name? But back to my point.i am suppose to believe that this was just random. I doubt that I smell something in the air and it is not this stinky ass Aussie idiots here either.

A CHORUS OF BOOS

Frostbite.. The commish is trying to drive a wedge between the KGB, well whatever thoughts that are running through our commish head, he needs to put a stop to it because the KGB is not going anywhere you and I both know that. And it is quite ironic after we win the match we will meet either Team Fairtex or Timeless and Roxylishus in the second round again members of the KGB. And you believe this is fair?

Warren Webber.. I believe you said that you and Joanne are going to win?

Frostbite.. You have gotten stuck in your ears? Look I am sure Paul and James feel the same way it is in the spirt of competition right. Look Warren I am going to level with you and these people. I have to do plenty of soul searching since I came back to SWAT. I had two goals.

1.. To burn this bitch to the ground

2.. Take home the World title.

I got business straight with Paul and difference are put aside but I have had two chances at the title and I failed. My return I must admit as been a failure. When Paul and I, hatched this plan for me to become a member of the KGB. I was a little shocked that Paul asked. Not because we beat the hell out of the other but simply because I had to look at the members of the group. Team Fairtex have been the tag team champions. Timeless has been the international or whatever the belt is being called at this time. My partner this evening is s champion. Paul is the owner of this place and well Warren, what have I done.

Frostbite pauses..

Frostbite.. I have done nothing. That is the truth, I can not hide that fact. I have allowed men such as Society of the New Rejects roll in here and collect championships. Some might feel they have a chance to win this thing tonight. Hardkore World reunion tour continues to live on. That needs to be put to a damn stop. They have stolen my damn thunder long enough, so tonight if I have to die in that very ring just so they do not walk out with the cup then I will do so.

Warren Webber.. Some strong words there.

Frostbite.. Is that all you got to say. Give me the damn microphone and step back.

Frostbite pushes Warren away.

Frostbite.. Timeless you and Roxy, you are a great team I recognize that, game does recognize game, but when we meet in the second round my good man you are going to fall.

Team Fairtex, I know how good you really are. It is a high honor to share a locker room with you, but tonight, Frostbite and Joanne are coming with both barrels loaded, and you will not stop us.

Caffrey, you have come in and push your way through everybody thus far. You are some of a legend around these circles right. Well it is time I introduce myself. My name is Frostbite, I have been around for a long time and done just as much in this sport as you have. I look forward to getting into that ring and proving you that just how good my ass really is? All I hear is just how good this organization is? This my good man is yet another company or federation that I get to walk into and take over. I have been doing this for a long time, and once again I am going to continue to do so until my last dying breath and if tonight happens to be then I will go out beating the hell out of you and this worthless ass federation. Your partner Calliahan comes in here full of hot air and some hopes and dreams that he is going to do very well around here. Got news for you, not on my damn time. Tonight is my fucking night and I want you to prove me wrong.

Sky Force, I do not much about you, but again you are going to get your ass handed to you.

La Famiglia a wild card in this thing. But you my friends are going to suffer the worse beating of your pathetic loves if you ever cross our paths tonight.

SWAT classic, I want you to meet the instant classic here in the cold hearted bastard, if we meet then you will understand why I am called that.

Brothers in Ararchy, you two have made quite the impact since the two of you have arrived. Trent you are the current World Champion so that says something about what you bring to the table. If you happened or should I say when we get to the finals. I want to look across the ring at the man that will beat you to become the world champion because I am getting damn tired of everybody stealing my thunder. That title is going to be mine very soon so you and anybody in this company falls a stupid was need to think they can stop me, then please feel free to try and do so, but remember I will destroy your worthless ass. Eddie, I know just how tough you are, but this is the toughest son of a bitch you will ever step in the ring with in your lifetime.

Rally Jackson and Tuxedo Mask. I must admit you did something that I never thought you could do and that is beat Team Fairtex to win the tag team titles. But I know the sun dies shine on a dog was every once in awhile, call it luck or what have you. But if we meet in the finals lighting will not strike twice because I will personally grab that lighting bolt and burn both of your asses with it.

Johnnie and Syberus. The two legends of hardkore world. Johnnie I know you might want to beat my sex because of what I did to the so called great SWAT team back at war games. Maybe you will get the chance and maybe you want. Because since you have been here you believe things are such a joke around here. You made the world title out to be such until you recently lost it. Johnnie I hope I get the chance to meet you in the finals because I am going to show you that hardkore world what the true meaning of what it feels to actually live up to the damn name. Syberus we have a little bit of pieces of what we could do in that ring against the other. If you happened to get there then I am going to show you that you are so great, as the wrestling world as lead to believe for many years.

Tarrasque, there is not much to say, we have beat the hell out of the other for years, and I look forward to another encounter with you and your partner, Ultra Kira, but please bring your partner up to speed as to what they are getting into because you know that I will do whatever must be done to win this damn thing.

K JAX and Lunchbox I must admit impressive debt last week. But again I have seen my share of people walk into a company and look impressive and then fade away. Trust me if you see each other in the finals I will make damn sure you fade to black.

Bloody Zen Romance, trust me you will live up to the bloody part if you ever get into that ring with me tonight.

The Saga, we face, it will be the beginning of your end.

Masta Bois, if you get lucky and meet in the final well it will be your curtain call.

Frostbite looks at the camera with an intense look in his blue eyes.

Frostbite.. To my tag team partner, Joanne Cannelli, I promise you right now that Frostbite will give you everything he has tonight. We will have some fun tonight I have no doubt. But partner we are going to win this damn thing tonight because I am going to do everything in my power to make sure this is the time that Frostbite begins to make his impact here in SWAT. We are going to win this damn thing because these others teams are going to have to kill my ass, because I am not leaving this year tournament with that damn cup, and after we win it. I promise I will bash it over our commish head because now you assholes have pissed me off and there will be hell to pay.

He tosses the microphone to the ground.

[Venom 🕷]

Here it is, the Anzac Cup. Showcase of tag team excellence, and standing together backstage is the newest tag team combo El Combatiente, Lord Dominicus and their manger/interpreter Javier.


Javier: Woo!


Javier exclaims as he sees the camera is on the trio.


Javier: This is it. The Anzac Cup is upon us and now you will all be gifted with the full potential of my Maski Bois.


Javier holds up his arms to present his clients to the world.


Javier: Last week was the first glimpse. You saw how El Combatiente took advantage of having even a second of his partners help lead to him putting a blemish on the record of Callahan.


El Combatiente: Tuve suerte la semana pasada. Callahan es un gran competidor.

(I got lucky last week. Callahan is one great competitor.)


LD: True evil at work when we screwed that bastard over last week.


Javier: That’s right guys we made him our bitch last week and this week it is time for us to bring the evil to the tag division. First up in our way is the team of the Saga.


LD: Losers.


El Combatiente: Gran competencia estoy seguro.

(Great competition I am sure.)


Javier: A group of losers is right gentlemen. They aren’t worth our time, but they will be the launching pad for the newest duo to take over the Network. They’ve already gone on screen here and said that the Cup is just something they want to have a good showing in. A good showing? A good showing? That’s the talk of losers. We’re not here for a ‘good showing’ we’re here to win. We’re here to dominate. We’re not here to be weak like the Saga. They say they’re not here to win, they’re here to make people think they should have won. If that’s not the weakest loser thing I have ever heard in my entire life then I don’t know what is.


El Combatiente: Esto será divertido.

(This will be fun.)


LD: Losers.


Javier: Absolutely losers. That’s not how we roll because we’re winners. We don’t care if people think we should have won. Last week El Combatiente probably shouldn’t have won. Callahan had his number most of the way, but he won. He was the one with his hand raised at the end and now his record is stronger because of it. That’s what winners do. They win by any means necessary. So by all means Saga, be happy with your moral victory of making people think that you should have won. Meanwhile when the match is over I will be standing by watching as my two competitors hands are raised in victory, but you’ll have the moral high ground.


LD: Evil doesn’t need the moral high ground.


El Combatiente: Estoy listo para volar esta noche.

(I am ready to fly tonight.)


Javier: Ya es hora de que mi amigo.

(It’s almost time my friend.)


LD: What did he say?


Javier: He’s ready to tear them limb from limb.


LD: OOOOOOH! Me too. I’m also ready for that.


El Combatiente: ¿Que dijo el?

(What did he say?)


Javier: Él también está listo para volar.

(He is also ready to fly.)


El Combatiente: Increíble

(Awesome.)


Javier: Enough chatter. It’s time. It is our time. Tonight is just the first step. By the time this Cup has concluded every competitor in the back will be begging to be a part of this.


Javier holds his arms up again showcasing his two clients as we cut.