No Man's Land 2021 (Show)

[SWAT Team]

[The arena darkens and fans erupt into loud cheers as “Collapsing” by Demon Hunter blasts through the speakers. Red, pink and purple lights flicker on and off in rapid succession creating a beautiful strobe effect over the stage as none other than The Blackpool Bombshell herself, Blaze Freya comes out from behind the curtain, walking backwards onto the stage with a charismatic strut. Her black hood covers her lowered head until she spins around triggering the lights to brighten to reveal her gorgeous face as she removes the hood, headbanging with the fans a bit. She nods in approval hearing the roar of the crowd, feeding off of their excitement then rolls her shoulders a few times, sprinting down the ramp and sliding into the center of the ring, humping it briefly. Blaze then leans back on her knees running her fingers through her long black hair, flirtatiously winking at the nearest camera before standing up to her feet and walking back to her corner to await her opponent with a determined look on her face.]

Frank Salazar : The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall and is a first round No Man’s Land Tournament match, Introducing first, hailing from Blackpool England and coming in at 5’6 and 125 lbs …. THE BLACKPOOL BOMBSHELL!! BLAZE FREYA!!!!

And introducing her opponent, she hails from Ontario Canada and comes in at 5’6 and 161lbs …. Representing Northern Pro Wrestling …. ISABEL RIOS!!!!

[The lights dim and then begin to pulse along with the opening guitar riff of ‘Bounce’ by Danko Jones; as the drums hit Isabel Rios steps through the curtain, head down, the grappler bouncing on the balls of her feet.]



“I love your black dress, your red lips, your long legs, your high heels…”



[The lyrics hit and the lights come up, Isabel looking out to the crowd with a grin as she struts a little on her way down to the ring, clad in black, silver and red trunks and a matching low-cut sports bra, knee pads and kick pads over amateur-style boots, wrists taped. About halfway down the ramp she breaks into a sprint, sliding headfirst under the ropes before popping up to her feet, hitting the ropes opposite and bouncing back, coming to rest on the ropes facing back up to the entrance, one foot on the bottom rope and one foot on the middle, cutting a double bicep pose and wide smile before stepping down to ready herself for the match.]


Jeremy Tucker : Here we go guys, final match of the first round, the winner of this going on to meet Kristy McKinney in the semi final.

Andrew Fulton : Blaze will take her, and Rios.

Jeremy Tucker : One match at a time Fulton, Isabel Rios is a world class wrestler coming from the esteemed Northern Pro.

Andrew Fulton : Yeah, she is, but she isn’t Blaze, Jerry.

Jeremy Tucker : They hook up and Rios with the weight and power advantage muscles Blaze into the corner, referee Vick Mackey calls for a clean break and Rios does so.

Andrew Fulton : Yes! Blaze runs out of the ropes with a thundering running forearm. Wake up Rios, this is Blaze Freya! She don’t play around.

Jeremy Tucker : Isabel holds her jaw, and Blaze goes for an Irish whip but Rios puts on the brakes, grabs Blaze and pulls her in a bear hug then delivers a huge belly to belly overhead suplex. No! Blaze lands on her FEET! Jumps and catches Rios by surprise with a frankensteiner to the back of Rios!

Andrew Fulton : She didn’t even see it coming!

Jeremy Tucker : Blaze stomps on Isabel and then again Irish whips her to the ropes, goes for a clothesline but Rios ducks under it and bounces off the ropes and mows thru Blaze with a mighty flying shoulder block! Blaze is seeing stars.

Andrew Fulton : Think we’ll be seeing the moon Jerry?

Jeremy Tucker : Knowing Blaze, there is a pretty good chance.

Andrew Fulton : Woop! (Fulton rubs his hands together with glee and anticipation)

Jeremy Tucker : What would you rather Andy, we see the moon or a Blaze win?

Andrew Fulton : BOTH Jerry! Both!

Jeremy Tucker : Scoop slam by Rios to Blaze. She then locks in a chin lock. Taking the air out of Blaze.

Andrew Fulton : Boring.

Jeremy Tucker : What are you, an anti chinlocker?

Andrew Fulton : I’m an anti rest holder.

Jeremy Tucker : You mark. Rios is crunching that chin lock in, taking the air out of Blaze and catching her own breath back at the same time.

Andrew Fulton : She is putting me to sleep.

Jeremy Tucker : Blaze twists and turns and moves her way to a knee and then a foot, Rios holding tight on the chin lock, she …..

Andrew Fulton : CUTTER!!! Diamond Cutter by Blaze! That’s the counter to the dreaded chin lock right there Jerry!

Jeremy Tucker : Blaze with a cover and Mackey with a two count and Isabel kicks out with authority.

Andrew Fulton : I thought she had her right there.

Jeremy Tucker : She powered out of that cover, Rios has a lot left in the tank and a decided power advantage here. Blaze waits on her, measuring her prey as Isabel makes her way to a vertical base and then Blaze almost takes her head off with a spinning roundhouse kick!

Andrew Fulton : Best kicks in the game. Them legs. (starts to moan)

Jeremy Tucker : Keep it in your pants man. Rios tries to shake of the kick and bounce back up and Blaze snarls at her and nails a big bicycle kick!

Andrew Fulton : Blaze raises her hand up high into the air and sticks down the front of her tights, then slaps the taste out of (or into) Isabel’s mouth! Boy do I love that move!

Jeremy Tucker : Rios snaps, and grabs Blaze and just starts pummelling her with right hand after right hand after right hand! She has gone mad Andy!

Andrew Fulton : She is triggered Jerry! Rios is exploding here with a barrage of right hands and Blaze is helpless to stop it! Come on Ref! Those are illegal closed fists!

Jeremy Tucker : Mackey tries to tell Rios to open the hand and she ignores him, she is enraged! What spirit!

Andrew Fulton : What an over reaction, who doesn’t want a bit of Blaze’s junk on their face?

Jeremy Tucker : (Scoffs.) Rios hoists Blaze up and drills her with a enormous brain buster! This could be it. Rios with the cover and Mackey with a close two count, Blaze getting the shoulder up last second.

Andrew Fulton : Rios drags Blaze back up, she wants to finish this and there it is, exploder suplex! Blaze is rolling to the ropes though, great ring awareness by the former Amazons Champ.

Jeremy Tucker : Isabel going to the top rope now, signalling its over, is this the Top Rope Meteora?

Andrew Fulton : Blaze see’s her heading up and runs over and pulls the leg out from under Rios, and she poles herself falling on the turnbuckle.

Jeremy Tucker : Blaze is now heading to the second rope and clobbers Rios with a big forearm. Isabel no sells it and answers back with a big right hand punch. They are now duking it out on the turnbuckle, and Rios with a big headbutt to Blaze, and that busted the nose of Blaze open, she is bleeding big time Andy!

Andrew Fulton : She better not have broken that!

Jeremy Tucker : Isabel jumps over Blaze and goes for a big Sunset flip, but Blaze is holding onto the ropes and blocking it.

Andrew Fulton : Rios keeps trying to pull her over in the sunset flip, and has her ring pants in her grasp! THEY ARE COMING DOWN JERRY! IT’S A FULL MOON TONIGHT!!!

Jeremy Tucker : Oh boy. He is right though folks, Isabel had Blazes pants in her hands and the longer Blaze held the ropes blocking the flip, the more they slipped down, and right now, we see Blaze with her panties at her ankles, and still holding onto the ropes blocking it …

Andrew Fulton : I love SWAT!

Jeremy Tucker : What the? Armand Von Krauss just appeared at ringside and he cold clocked Blaze with a huge right hand! That’s a pair of brass knucks he is wearing!

Andrew Fulton : Whyyyyyyyyy?

Jeremy Tucker : Blaze called him out. The entire KGB! That’s what you cop I guess. And Blaze goes over in the sunset flip. Rios has her pinned, her panties still at her ankles and her exposed butt and bits in the air for all to see, this is a little graphic folks, we apologise.

Andrew Fulton : Apologize my ass! It’s a wardrobe malfunction and it’s a gift from the gods, look at it! (He starts drooling)

Jeremy Tucker : Mackey drops for the count, 1 …. 2 ……3!!!! Rios got her and advances to the semi’s!

Andrew Fulton : (moans something incomprehensible)

Jeremy Tucker : Get a hold of yourself man! Mackey obviously didn’t see Armand’s interference, most likely distracted by the wardrobe malfunction, but anyway you look at it, Isabel Rios advances to the next round.

Frank Salazar : Winner of the match and advancing to the next round, ISABEL RIOS!!!!!

[Rayzor]

[Camera pans around a limo sitting in the parking garage. The shots fades outs and fades back in to inside the limo where we see Rayzor having a drink while he is seated.]

Rayzor: Finally, No Mans Land is here. The event where I am going to dominate all other who come face to face with me. A new year and which would now be my 20th year in this business. I am in the best shape of my career, I have the passion to go out there and deliver. I am still undefeated here in SWAT. The only two blemishes on my record are because of that waste of flesh Sadler. He lost those matches for us.

[Rayzor leans into the camera as he takes a drinks.]

Rayzor: I'm going to be honest here. I used Sadler to get here in SWAT and once I realized that I am still better than him. I boot his ass to the curb and sent him packing. I am shocked that he is even here tonight to be honest.

[Taking a drink of what looks like whiskey]

Rayzor: But here we are, 2021 and in the Mecha that is New York. Where I go through 29 others and get my title shot that I deserve. There's no one in this rumble that can take me. 

[Rayzor slowly exits the limo as the driver runs around to get his belongings.]

Rayzor: after tonight I'll be getting one step closer to slinging that World Title over my shoulder and taking this company to new heights, heights that it has never seen before.

[Grabbing his stuff, Rayzor starts making his way towards the arena door.]

[Lucky Linda]

”Here we are backstage folks with Lucky Linda La Fey.” States Glamorous Glenda. “Linda, we just saw the final match of the first round, Isabel Rios victorious over Blaze Freya, in a dramatic fashion. Now, its you and Mistress Discipline and the other side of the brackets, Kirsty and Rios.”

“Dramatic fashion?” exclaims Linda. “That’s one way to put it I guess.” Linda pouts in an exaggerated manner. “The lengths some girls will go to for attention, it never astounds me.”

“What are your thoughts on the tournament so far Linda?”

“Well, my thoughts.” Linda ponders, her thumb and forefinger on her chin. “Firstly, boy was it good to get Rebecca Brookes back in the ring. I mean, I didn’t expect anything more from her after her previous showing, I am just thankful she was assigned to me in the opening round. I really lucked out there.”

“You seem disappointed” replies Glenda, holding the mic.

“I wouldn’t say disappointed. She previously came in here with a lot of hype, accepted my open challenge and got one up on me. Then ….. “ Linda gives the raspberry sound and a big thumbs down. “She may well go down in history as the worst person to ever hold our belt, and we had Tornado Red as the inaugural champ.”

“Even as a rookie back then I knew the Amazons could do better.” Continues Linda. “And better we did, forming our own region and being the flagship show of SWAT for a decent run, before the other regions couldn’t keep up with our hot shows and started to drop off and we were forced to amalgamate with them.” Linda now shows disappointment. “They were fun days. Fresh and ambitious and not a care in the world. Fast forward and here we are, No Man’s Land 2021. The third annual Tourney.”

“And you won the last one.” Glenda chimes in.

“That I did. An achievement that humbled me.” Linda states. “I want to be humbled so again this year.” Linda grins. “Now wouldn’t that be something?”

“Its more than possible, only four of you left in this now.”

“Isabel and Kirsty have been a verry impressive, some might say upsetting the SWAT main stays in Blaze and Graysie.” Linda looks determined. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though. First things first. That’s Mistress Discpline.”

“You Mistress Discpline are standing between The Lucky One and the Final of this shin dig.” Linda is full of conviction “You come here with probably the biggest reputation of all of the great visitors entered into our tourney. It truly will be an honour to battle you in that ring. In this great AmazonsAarena. A place that was built for us when we were that number one region in SWAT.” Linda waves her arm out and the shot pans across the arena from the back where they are standing. “The wars I have endured in this famed building.”

“This upcoming battle will be perhaps the toughest of all of my previous adventures in this place.” Linda exudes focus. “I have no doubt of that, and, truthfully, I would not want it any other way.” Linda is on a roll. “MD. Can I call you MD? I hope So. Let me make one thing perfectly clear MD.”

Linda stares into the camera. “All this admiration and respect, once the bell rings. When the time for talk is over and its time to fight. Fight I will. When I saw the brackets after the elation with being spoon-fed Brookes in round one, I then looked forward and was both excited and a tad nervous with the prospect of facing you in the semi’s. This is what drives me, the opportunity to test myself against the best of the best. I have faced many of the greats and defeated them all.” Linda continues to stare into the lens of the camera. “I intend to show you MD that the Amazons is where it is at! No cheap shots. No politics. I don’t care where you work and what anyone else here thinks of them, or what they think of us. This is two gladiators, entering the arena, one walking out the victor. These are my people. I wont let them down. I can’t. So, bring all you can, hold nothing back, I want to not only beat the best, but beat them AT THEIR BEST!” Linda takes a breath. “May the best woman win.”

“There you have it guys, a pumped up Lucky Linda, back to you ….” Glenda signs off.

[Venom 🕷]

Earlier in the day.


Voice: You may come in.


We open in on a man we have yet to see before in an office. He is behind a desk with paperwork scattered across it. He is an older sharp dressed gentleman with round glasses. He looks up towards the door as Javier, the manager of the SWAT Champion, walks in. The man stands up and motions to the chair across from his desk.


Javier: Thank you for seeing me on such short notice Doctor Johnson.


Johnson: I am happy to see you. I must say since I took this position within the XHF I have not been quite as busy as I expected.


Javier: Really? I would expect a lot of work for a psychiatrist in this type of environment.


Johnson: I thought so too when Mongo’s team offered me this job. I in fact was worried I would be overwhelmed with the amount of smaller companies under the XHF umbrella. I have only, though, seen men who have been forced here by their company’s doctor. The women have kept me busy though. They have no problem coming in.


Javier: That is interesting.


Johnson: So Mr. Nunez, what brings you in? Are you here on behalf of yourself or your client?


Javier: Well, that is a tough questions. Technically I am here on behalf of my client, but it is not his mental health I am worried about. It is the mental health of one of his opponents.


Johnson: I have been keeping up with this. You are talking about Frostbite, correct?


Javier: Yes! The man is insane. Something is seriously wrong with his mental health. Could you help him?


Johnson: Unfortunately I cannot force anyone to come see me, so I cannot help him unless he comes to see me.


Javier: This is my worst nightmare.


Johnson: Since you are here, though, maybe I can help you.


Javier: But the only way to help me is if you help him. I am worried he will injure my client or his partner.


Johnson: Well let me ease some of that worry.


Javier: O…okay. How would you do that?


Johnson: You know this is the wrestling business right?


Javier: Yeah.


Johnson: You know this business is ninety percent mental right?


Javier: Yeah.


Johnson: So think about it. As much as I want Frostbite to be this messed up because it would be a pleasure to try and evaluate that could it not just be that he is trying to get into your clients head?


Javier: I guess.


Johnson: I know it is hard for you to think about your client being in the ring with someone so out of their head, but just put it in your mind, what if he is not? What if this is all just a game trying to get into your clients head? Look at the evidence. He said he was going to burn the place down in Australia right?


Javier: Yes.


Johnson: But he did not do it. If he was truly as insane as he appears to be it is my professional opinion that he would have followed through on that threat. Now, he could still be that mentally ill and just had a moment of clarity, but it could also be that he is just playing a character that he thinks will throw your client off of his game and get him to his ultimate goal.


Javier: That makes sense.


Johnson: Good. I hope it helps you and your client.


Javier: My client is fine. He is acting like nothing is wrong. To him it is just business as usual.


Johnson: That is the mindset I like to see. You too could benefit from a mindset like that Mr. Nunez.


Javier: I will work on that. Thank you so much for your time Doctor.


Johnson: Anytime. That is what I am here for.


Javier stands up and Doctor Johnson does too. They shake hands and Javier turns and exits the office. As the door closes Doctor Johnson sits back down.


Johnson: Whew. Glad I was able to calm him but he is right, that Frostbite is bat shit crazy.

---

Back in the arena live we find Javier standing with his client next to him standing in front of the XHF and SWAT back drop. Javier is smirking while his client looks locked in and ready to go with the SWAT Championship draped over his shoulder.


Javier: The time is near. It is nearly time for my client to become double Champion here in SWAT. When we came on the scene nearly one year ago getting to this point was just a dream. My client and I were only here because we wanted to regain his legacy. We wanted people to hear the name El Combatiente and stop thinking of Venom and what he did with the name and the mask. We wanted people to hear the name El Combatiente and think about this man here and what he can do in the ring. Now a year later we have done that and so much more. In just one year we have gone from the guy people still think is Venom playing around again to a man the fans look up to and someone whose masks are worn by kids all over the world. We dreamed of getting to this point, but we never could have imagined it would happen this fast.


Javier shakes his head.


Javier: One. Year.


El Combatiente: Un año. Solo un año. Es difícil imaginar que he llegado tan lejos. Esta noche, junto a mi socio Dylan Black, daré un paso más. Esta noche pasaré de lograr todo lo que podría esperar hacer en individuales y ahora también en la división de parejas. Sé que puede sonar engreído, pero lo estoy sintiendo ahora mismo. Por lo general, soy del tipo humilde y tranquilo, pero algo tiene mi confianza en su punto más alto. Puede ser que mi pareja se haya contagiado conmigo. Podría ser que haya golpeado continuamente a los dos hombres a los que nos enfrentamos esta noche en las últimas semanas. No importa lo que sea, tengo confianza y sé que esta noche es la noche en que me convertiré en doble campeón.

(One year. Only one year. It is hard to fathom that I have come this far. Tonight along side my partner Dylan Black I will take it one step further. Tonight I will go from accomplishing everything I could hope to do in singles and now in the tag division as well. I know it may sound cocky but I am feeling it right now. I am usually the humble quiet type, but something has my confidence at an all time high. It could be that my partner has rubbed off on me. It could be that I have continually beaten both of the men we are facing tonight in recent weeks. No matter what it is I am confident and know that tonight is the night I become a double champion.)


Javier: My client is confident. He is ready. And even though Frostbite is out of his mind he is not focused on this match. He is not focused on retaining the tag titles. All he wants is to win the over the top match tonight and get another shot at my client in singles competition. He may want to get a shot at my client tonight and soften him up, but his mind will be elsewhere. Likewise, Armand’s mind might be a little preoccupied. He too has his focus elsewhere. He, like he always does, wants more power and he is in the process of trying to gain that by winning the X*Crown at Supremacy. Like Frostbite he might be inclined to try and soften up Dylan tonight before their big four way throw down, but his mind is elsewhere. Even my client’s partner Dylan might be preoccupied with that defense. You know what that leaves? Just him. My client. Ready and willing to do the deed and get the win for his team and walk out as one half of the Tag Team Champions.


El Combatiente: Esta noche es mi noche.

(Tonight is my night.)


Javier: Yes it is. And after we win, my client and I will walk up to the box and watch the rest of the show in excitement as we await who will be the next challenger to my clients’ throne.


Javier reaches back and pats the SWAT Championship as he finishes the sentence and then the two walk off camera and we cut.

[h2f]

Mistress Discipline stands backstage following her victory against Olympia holding a cell phone in one hand and a microfiber cloth in the other.

She touches the circle next to a picture of a blond and then the speaker icon.

It rings through as she gently blots her face with the cloth.

It’s still ringing as she frowns at the phone.

Mistress Discipline checks the clock nearby as Dr. Chaos, her friend and manager, finally answers the phone.

“Helloooooo!” Chao’s voice echoes around the space.

Mistress Discipline looks back at the phone. “There you are. I thought we agreed to this call yesterday. Were you not watching my match? Did something come up? Are you busy right now? I can call back in a few minutes, if it would help."

Dr. Chaos clears her throat. “Not busy. Just finishing up. Hold on.”

A toilet flushes in the background of the call.

Mistress Discipline is aghast. “Chaos. Chaos, you are on speakerphone.”

Dr. Chaos forces a chuckle. “Whooapsies. Thought it was on mute. Anywho. How did it go?”

Mistress Discipline places her cloth on her shoulder. “I won. What is next?”

A faucet turns on.

Dr. Chaos actually giggles. “I knew you had it in ya! Show that non-Mixed Martial Artists who’s boss!”

Mistress Discipline stretches her neck to one side. “I would not call her an artist but she has some skill. I would be happy to meet her in the ring again. Now who is next?”

The faucet turns off and a door opens.

Dr. Chaos hums for a moment. “Lucky Linda.”

Mistress Discipline looks back at the phone. “This one will be more of a challenge.”

Dr. Chaos agrees. “Yes. She’s shown she can be at the top of the ladies division previously and she’s who I think of when I think of SWAT’s Woman’s division.”

Mistress Discipline nods. “Yes, and their division is well shown and she is clearly the leader. Still, this is just one more match that I will join head on. I will rally and push into that ring with all the gumption I can muster.”

Dr. Chaos snickers. “Whoa now. That’s a lot of old fashion southern to throw down.”

Mistress Discipline smiles. “This is a throw down. As Linda said. I respect her and her company but when we enter that ring, we enter as fighters dedicated to the sport. We entered for a reason and that reason is to win. We are not there to paint our nails and gossip.”

Dr. Chaos giggles. “Though that could be fun. Perhaps I should reach out to her people and we can have a party once all the dust settles. We could have the cake in the shape of the belt. Today’s loser buys the cake.”

Mistress Discipline considers this. “Reach out quickly. I would hate to force them to buy us a cake after I win. You know what kind of cake I like. Is there any question?”

[SWAT Team]

Jeremy Tucker: Well fans, I’m being told that they have restored our Australian feed, and you all know what that means.


Andrew Fulton: Dudes!


Jeremy Tucker: Radu Matei and Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre have already been brawling for awhile, and Deathless was already looking like hamburger thanks to the Society of the New Breed. Who can tell what he has left? It’s not going to be long, it’s not going to be pretty, but lets send it back to the hospital to see what they have left.


Meanwhile back in Australia...


South Perth Hospital.


An attendant sits behind the nurse’s station of the ER unit. She is currently manning the phone.


Attendant: Looks like it’s going to be another long nigh-


She stops. Looks up. Then calmly puts the phone down, as if this was a perfectly normal situation.


Kip Kapp: Do you give up?


The camera pulls out just as the referee pushes his way into frame, a long shot finds Radu Matei – decked out in an open hospital gown and hooked up to an IV drip on an aluminum stand – choking Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre with an orange “Get Well” balloon. Yellow ribbon pulls tight around the bloody luchador’s throat, his eyes bulging out from lack of oxygen, as his adam’s apple almost beats out of his neck.


Kip Kapp: HAVE. YOU. HAD. ENOUGH?


Heroic Bloodshed doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit, though he appears to be a native English speaker.


The attendant slowly reaches for a button to alert security, when Deathless smiles at her.


Radu Matei: No need to be alarmed, miss. We are professional wrestlers just doing the only thing we know, trying to put on a show to distract some of these sick people, and show you front line workers how much we appreciate all that you d*


Deathless is cut off in midsentence, as a flailing Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre swings a landline by its cord – nailing the Sacrificial Idol in the head with the phone base. A second swing busts Deathless wide open.


Phone: Your call cannot be completed as dialled, please hang up and try your call again. Beep. Beep. Beep. Be#


Another swing shatters the base. As Matei loosens his grip, Sangre buries a knee in his gut. A snap suplex plants Deathless HARD across the desk. It is only the single camera set-up that keeps this from being a cavalcade of Matei hospital gown upskirt shots. A holding his lower back, Matei lays across the top of the desk in agony. Despite the impact, Matei still has a fistful of balloon ribbon, which is turning the bloody luchador purple from lack of oxygen.


Kip Kapp: Are you sure you don’t want to call it quits?


Snatching the “GET WELL” balloon from out of the air, Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre shoves it into Radu Matei’s mouth! Matei tries to pull it out, but Sangre bats his arms away, in between laying in forearm smashes. The next course of action is to bite it, but even that proves difficult, as Sangre shoves more of the balloon in.


It is now Matei’s turn to struggle to breath. Efforts by Matei to breath through his nostrils are stifled, when Sangre BREAKS Deathless’ nose with a forearm smash.


Letting up the assault long enough to untangle his throat, Sangre gasps for air while Matei suffocates. Searching the desk blindly, Matei picks up a “South Perth Hospital” pen – stabbing it into his mouth to finally burst the balloon. A second movement, stabs it into Sangre’s forehead – causing his red mask to take on a darker hue.


Before Matei can recover, Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre jumps up on the station, and then dives off with a springboard legdrop, which knocks Matei off the desk to the cold, hospital floor.














ONE!













TWO!





Matei gets a shoulder up, almost tearing out his IV in the process.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre rises just as security guards enter the area. Reaching up, Sangre yanks the pen out of his forehead – causing blood to spurt out a good four feet.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: This isn’t what it looks like – we’re performers putting on a show to say thanks for all the great work you’re doing during these*


Radu Matei crotches Sangre with his aluminum IV pole.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre (holding genitals): Argh! Mis Nueces!


Holding his genitals while yelling, isn’t convincing security not to tase Sangre. Unfortunately, before they get a chance, Deathless has draped the IV pole across Sangre’s chest – and uses it to hit a reverse Russian legsweep on the hard ground.










ONE!













TWO!





Kip Kapp: His foot is in the ropes.


Radu Matei: That’s a water cooler!


The cold fountain water is enough to bring Sangre back to reality. Sadly he comes back into the moment, just as Deathless Irish whips him into a mural that the children’s burn ward did of happy patients playing in a park. The image warms one’s heart, but the concrete wall cracks one’s skull.


Radu Matei: I’M FINE WITH YOU TAKING YOUR ANGER OUT ON ME...


Deathless repeated slams Sangre’s face into the wall.


Radu Matei: But why pick on Thomas and Souza?


Sangre puts the breaks on, kicks Matei’s bad leg out from under him, and then bulldogs Deathless into a gurney.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: I didn’t see those clowns at the funeral either. Some friends!


Wrapping a stethoscope around his fist, so that the metal part is outside the knuckles, Sangre peppers away at Matei’s torn up forehead, further opening the gash. The commotion the two men have caused starts to see more and more patients and workers coming out to enjoy their match.


Radu Matei: None of us knew it was happening. How many group gatherings are you going to right now?


Grabbing Sangre by the neck, Matei forces a headlock – cranking back even as Sangre goes to town on his bruised kidney. The two bump into stretchers, knock over medical cabinets, and knock all sorts of medical files to the floor – while fighting over the headlock.


#SMACK#


They finally leave the hallway, running into a patient’s room – door opened with Sangre’s head.


#SMACK#
#TWACK#
#BUMP#
#WHIZZ#
#CHORTLE#
#CRASH#
#BAM#
#SNAP#
#CRACKLE#
#THUD#
#KA-POW#


Random objects come flying through the open door, as the horrific noises made in the room sound more and more like 60s Batman sound effects. The camera tries to get a shot inside the room, but flying bedpans and medical waste bins keep him at bay.


Then a sickening silence...


The large crowd draw closer to the scene of the crime. Could someone have died?


Mustering his courage, the cameraman moves in – with Kip Kapp following behind.


Inside, a small girl looks up in delight as the two men fight over who is going to eat a spoonful of the green sludge that passes for pea soup. You get the impression she doesn’t care who wins the test of strength, as long as someone other than her eats it.


The younger Matei almost has the spoon of crap in the luchador’s mouth – its inches away...


With his free hand, Sangre drives a thumb into Matei’s broken nose. Radu doesn’t have a lot of nerves left but this does cause him to open his mouth in agony, even as he stifles a scream. Mouth open, Sangre shoves the green poison down Radu’s gullet.


Radu Matei: Uuuuurgh...


Poisoned by the hospital food, Matei staggers away from the child’s bed. With one hand he holds his stomach, with the other he tries to close his hospital gown – to preserve some dignity.


The child knocks over the bowl of soup, she will no doubt blame the wrestlers for this, and try to move onto an applesauce.


With his arms occupied, Matei leaves himself open to a running hip attack that knocks him back out into the hallway.


Matei tries to swing his IV stand like a sword, but Sangre ducks under it, and then leap frogs over it – before nailing another hip attack. The two trade elbows, before crashing into another room.


This time the camera immediately follows them in, to find a doctor with a patient.


Radu Matei: Sorry to interrupt.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: Just here to cheer on the staff! Keep up the good wor-


Matei shoves a tongue compressor in Sangre’s mouth – then slams it with a spinning back fist.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: Ow ma tange.


As Sangre coughs up wood, the two exit back out into the hallway, continuing their gruesome brawl.


The fisticuffs lead to the triage centre, where only thin blue curtains keep the patients apart. A roundhouse right by Matei knocks Sangre back into the first covered waiting area. Still dragging his IV with him, Deathless follows Sangre into the curtains.


Patients let out startled cries. More than one of them runs out from their assigned space, as the curtains ruffle with further action. Metal beams shake, and curtains rise, as the two obscured men move from one space to another, and back again.


Again – a silence sets in.


Curious, the camera pulls back the last curtain to find...


Sangre is slumped against a chair; while Deathless has a blood pressure cuff wrapped around the luchador’s head... and is inflating it as hard as his broken hand can pump.


Kip Kapp: Do you give up?


When he finally registers the pressure being put on his skull, Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre lets out a blood-curdling scream...


Then Deathless hits him with a bionic elbow!


The cuff comes undone by the pressure, but the amount of blood this shot creates looks like a horror movie. Sangre falls over, while an exhausted Matei falls on top of him...

















ONE!















TWO!













THREE?



Kip Kapp: Shoulder up!


Radu Matei: That’s a death spasm!


Finding that the cuff spot has torn Sangre’s mask, Deathless looks away, and tucks the torn bit in on itself to protect the luchador’s identity. Despite the murderous rage, this is a sign of respect for his dead friend’s parent.


Slowly getting up, Deathless drags Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre after him. Trying to put the breaks on, a barely conscious Sangre reaches out, hoping to grab anything he can. This knocks over a tray full of syringes.


Grabbing a random needle full of a green substance, Sangre stabs Matei in the leg – injecting him with it. Whatever it is, causes Matei’s leg to go limp.


Emboldened by this success, Sangre grabs another syringe and injects it into The Sacrificial Idol’s arm.


*HOSPITAL POP*


This has a reverse effect, as the shot causes Matei to hulk up – a MASSIVE CLOSELINE sends Sangre backwards into a used laundry hamper.


Sangre immediately dives out with a standing moonsault that takes Matei down while throwing soiled linens everywhere.









ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Matei gets his adrenaline infused right arm up after one. Realizing the error of his ways, Sangre stabs Deathless with another syringe. This injection causes the arm to go limp.


Yanking the IV out of the arm, and finally kicking away the stand – Sangre takes the clear tube, and starts choking Matei with it.


Kip Kapp: Do you quit?


Before Matei can laugh this off, Sangre uses the tubing to drag him upright – then snapmares the Sacrificial Idol into a wheel chair.


A dropkick sends the wheelchair rolling down the hall, where it crashes hard into some medical cabinets.


Looking through the refuse, Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre picks up a scalpel.


Half his body limp, a battered Radu Matei rises just as the scalpel wielding luchador charges at him. Sangre stabs Matei in the ribs. Throwing his limp arm around back, Matei grabs it with his own hand, locking on a bear hug.


Kip Kapp: Do you quit?


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: Never!


His arms are pulled close from the bearhug, but there is still enough space to keep stabbing at the ribs. Awkward cuts, but cuts all the same. Sangre will carve himself out of this hold.


Radu coughs up blood, but holds the bear hug fast.


Radu Matei: I’m very sorry for your loss.


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: Shut up!


Deathless keeps talking in an increased whisper, but the words aren’t picked up on camera


The stabbing continues.


Finally The Sacrificial Idol says something that causes Sangre’s bloodshot eyes to widen.


A pained sigh.


The scalpel drops with a clang.


Kip Kapp: Do you submit?


Heroico Derramamiento de Sangre: yes.


Kapp turns to the crowd. Without a ring announcer, it falls on the referee to let the audience know the confused results.


The two men continue to be trapped in the deathlike hug. As the crowd let out a cheer, Matei finally lets go of his grip... both men falling over into the pool of blood.


Some of the onlookers start to line-up for autographs, but the performers may need a transfusion first.

[Dave D-Flipz]

“The Hard Sell” by Coheed and Cambria hits the arena speakers in this intermission after the completion of the first round of Amazon Tournament matches. The fans pop through the roof. Out onto the stage steps “The Main Attraction”. He lowers his shades and we see the black eyes from his battle with the Society of the New Breed at New Year’s Nightmare. He looks around at the crowd and raises a microphone and taps it on his shoulder as the crowd dies down. He steps to the center of the stage at the top of the ramp and lets the music die down.

: "The Amazons Arena … New York City. Ya know New York has always been an interesting place for me. Being a major baseball guy whose best friend is from Boston … it’s always felt a little … hostile. But I suppose as years go by and a pandemic or two ravages people … you see the true nature of people. And I gotta say it is damn good to be back in the States in front of my people."

The crowd erupts again as DT drops his hood from his hoodie revealing his head has been shaved temporarily as there are lines of stitches patchworking his entire scalp. The crowd silences …

: "Oh no don’t stop on my account. This right here is what it takes to lose a match after cheating, getting outside help, and then still get a world title shot. This is just a prank after all. Right? HAHA it is to laugh! Look how … *he gets incredibly serious* … incredibly … happy … and amused I am. No, what this is … this is unacceptable behavior. And frankly I’ve seen it over and over since I got here. I get the allure with deathmatches, the blood and guts. I do. But this is a step beyond and it seems like this place is over run with arrogant fools running around trying to eliminate the competition as if the fans will come out and pay good money to watch new talent every week being hired because your top guys keep running people out of town or ending their careers. Look at my friend Radu. He hasn’t even left Australia yet. HE IS SAFER IN AUSTRALIA with the goddamn monster spiders, murder snakes, and Aiden Merric than he is in the SWAT locker room."

The fans don’t know how to react to this … or know what an Aiden Merric even is … DT starts to slowly walk down the ramp to the ring as he talks. He points out at the crowd.

: "You all witnessed last year, in this very arena, a man get his feet encased in concrete … to win a match. Where’s the sportsmanship? Where’s the intrigue? No this locker room is full of malcontents who care nothing for your entertainment or their own business. They are all going into business for themselves. In short, to remind you all of what I said about this business last April … they are failing hard to make the hard sell. And how fitting to remind you of my words before the XHF rumble as I stand here about to avenge that failure on my part by winning another rumble. Tonight I will be the savior of SWAT. I will being honor and prestige back to this company and assure you a main event you all WANT to watch. A feat of athleticism and sportsmanship. High flying action versus technical mastery. El Combatiente versus Death Trap in the Main Attraction."

Now the fans get hot, they would LOVE to see that.

: "And all it takes is for me to come out to this ring and dump 29 other men over the ropes. For anyone who watched me in 2006 survive over 30 men and reach the final two … or just last April when I came in number 13 out of 60 men and survived to the final 6 … you all know I can do this all night. You all know I can dump every bastard over the ropes and win this thing. And hey if I can clean up the garbage in doing it … I’ll call that a double win. Armand has his cronies loaded into this thing and I can bet … just maybe … they might not play fair!"

He rolls into the ring and kips up. The fans are on his every word.

: "Frostbite, Bruno, Hehehe, Hahaha, Eddie D Cups and Armand himself. One sixth of this match are on Armand’s payroll and we know they intend to let Frostbite have his weird kinky dungeon sex with the belt. But I can assure you I will not allow one of these six … well not men, that would imply they were honorable and had a set of balls on them and I’m pretty sure there’s not a single one on the group of them. But DT! Why are you getting in Armand’s business again!? Why the fuck not? If you haven’t been paying attention I am making it my personal mission to make sure the KGB don’t see a single happy moment the rest of this calendar year. After what he tried to do to me in Japan and what they hinted they wanted to do to my teammate in Philadelphia … I will not forgive or forget. I can’t wait to see Armand’s face when he not only comes out empty handed here tonight after Dylan and EC take his tag titles, but when he fails to win the X*Crown. I think Zoran lite over here may just burst a blood vessel and actually murder his ‘allies’."

The crowd goes crazy. DT steps to the middle of the ring in the spotlight and gets even more animated.

: "Oh and let us not forget there is Tuxedo Mask and Rally Jackson! And this week they are bringing Jonnie “The Nickname Meme Generator” Valentine as well. I thought I could respect them for their talents. I thought I could forgive Tiny Tuxy and Jonnie ‘Chalky Candy Holiday’ for their association with Rally. I thought maybe they were just dense and didn’t realize. I mean Jonnie maybe … but I have to pin the three of them together. These men are responsible for the attitude and atmosphere in that locker room. They don’t deserve to headline a real wrestling show. There is a certain expectation of decorum. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE HEADLINERS! You are supposed to help elevate the product! And the only thing the three of you have elevated is Rally’s belt size."

The fans chant D-T, D-T, D-T.

: "DISGRACEFUL! You wouldn’t know how to draw a crowd with a set of pens and a guide with tracing paper! More people here are in this crowd to see my partner Mistress Discipline compete than to see what big new thing Rally is gonna do to either punk someone out or stuff his gullet! Or to see who Jonnie is gonna be this week! Or … just have ever cared about Sailor Moon! Maybe that one kid from Kentucky with the body pillows."

A member of the crowd dressed like Sailor Venus stands up. He is pissed and storms out crying.

: "Well guess it was real to him too. The point is that there are NINE of the thirty men in this ring who are all in the picture for your top draws in SWAT and they are the scum of the Earth. Just reprehensible people. There is no fun to be had around them. THEY’RE MAKING THIS A JOB! And one without the right safety precautions."

He points to his head which looks more like it belongs on Deathless than on DT.

: "But. *draws in a deep breath* That’s ok. Because hey we got the ReVenants in the house! Prestige and ‘Insert appropriate name here’ Champion Keith Williams is in the house. Because what SWAT’s locker room needed was more sleaze. As if Rally Jackson wasn’t enough. And ole Oxford Osland! Good ole OOOOOOO! Sorry it’s real hard to abbreviate O O in speech instead of text without doing that. The man who gets to come in at number 30, and by proxy … be the most embarrassed when I dump him to the floor. Keith you and I have done this dance before but it wasn’t very satisfying. After all you had NJC to hold you back and I was restrained by having to hit you with a cream pie. Hey about that … was it as awkward being on the other side of that as I bet every woman you’ve ever been with felt after realizing who you were? Don’t answer that Miami Vice, I don’t actually care. The fact is the result is gonna be the same this time around. Because when it comes to you ReVenants and DT … well I’m just the top of the class aren’t I?"

He winks at the crowd and jumps to the middle rope in the corner of the ring.

: "SWAT faithful. What if I told you all hope wasn’t lost. There are some actual talented wrestlers in this ring, who care more about entertaining you and doing our job than whatever foolish ambitions these assholes have? What if I said there are people in this rumble to assure you that you get what you paid for before watching Mistress Discipline win the No Man’s Land Tourney?"

The fans get amped up at this provocation.

: "Say what you will about the Fairtexes but they constantly come out here and put on a clinic in the ring for you all. And who else could get the whole crowd to cheer in some forgotten ancient dialect than Psychotic Goth and his pale good looks. So much more refreshing than Vincent Draven. Hey another XHF Rumble callback, I’m on a roll. Or NPW supplying us Joseph Mack, the man who almost took down Eric Dane. That man is a machine. Hey there’s Paul Soutter too! Now look I know he isn’t the greatest guy in the world but all his questionable actions were at least in service of you, the SWAT Faithful. And can we really say you were better off with Armand or … *he bits his tongue in anger* Zoran … Sainovic? NO! And then there’s the up and coming high flyer Pequeño Dinosaurio! I’ve got my eye on him. That man is very fun to watch and what a series he put on with Psychotic Goth!"

The fans go wild for their favorite tiny reptilian luchador. DT leaps from the ropes and poses in the center of the ring once more.

: "Or maybe there’s the most anticipated entrant in the rumble. The man who oozes charisma and who makes grown men cry in agony when stuck in the ring with him. Maybe, just maybe … you can all root for the Savior of SWAT, the man to restore class and dignity to the locker room. The man who will root out your problems and take the out on the big stage for your amusement. How about you tie your fortunes to the best damn technical wrestler in XHF, the two time MCCW champ, the two time X*Crown champ, the Main Attraction. Gosh I’m so damn humble aren’t I? *he smirks* How about you bet on the man who will actually win this entire thing and overcome all the odds AS PER USUAL? Just maybe you should all get behind the living legend and ring veteran and general. How about, just a suggestion, if it pleases you … you all sit back and watch me, Death Trap, show you how it’s done in this business. Because can’t NOBODY hold a candle to me. There isn’t another man in this rumble who can outdraw, outwrestle, outclass, outsmart, or outdo me. The pinnacle of perfection, the best damn wrestler in that there locker room."

The fans chant “Death Trap! Death Trap! Death Trap!” He rolls out of the ring and spins around with his arms out in a grand show to the crowd

: "Ain’t it the truth? Buckle your seatbelts, folks. And enjoy the show. Because the main attraction is just a little while away. So get your cameras and recorders ready. Cuz I’m about to steal the show."

DT tosses the mic and throws his hood back on as he poses on the ramp. “The Hard Sell” by Coheed and Cambria hits as he smirks and exits up the ramp.

[Isabel Rios]

“Fucking goddammit, all I can smell is Blaze Freya. Fuck!”

Isabel Rios storms backstage, shaking her head, visibly annoyed as she stops against a wall, taking a bottle of water that’s presented to her from off camera by a huge hand, quickly uncapping it and dumping it over her face and head. The camera pans out a little to reveal fellow NPW competitor Joseph Mack with a slightly amused look on his face, turning to lean against the wall next to her.

“Congrats on the win?”

“Fuck. I didn’t want to win like that, some asshole nailing her with brass knucks. I didn’t realize til I saw the replay, y’know? I was just trying to pull her down with the sunset, suddenly she comes down, I figured she just lost her balance, grip on the ropes. Fuck!”

Isabel tosses the empty water bottle across the hall before sighing and walking over to pick it up and deposit it in a recycling bin.

“You pissed because you didn’t beat her clean or because you didn’t get to beat her down more after giving you the pussy slap?”

“Both! Ugh. I’m not gonna pretend to be a fucking afficianado but sweaty pussy is not what I want to be smelling on my face ever. Or to be staring it down while executing a sunset flip. No snide comments from you.”

She points at Mack accusingly but there’s finally a bit of a smile back on her face, Mack smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

“Yo, for real though… you want me to come out for your next match, try and keep the shenanigans to a minimum? If an Ontario girl can tolerate having a Montrealer watching her back.”

Isabel pauses, seemingly considering the offer before shaking her head.

“No, I’m doing this on my own. Thanks though, but you worry about the rumble and go win yourself a title shot. But… I guess if you see someone rolling in there to lay me out like Timeless did Graysie, I suppose you’d be welcome to interject yourself. And big fella?”

She leans in, patting him on the chest lightly with an open hand.

“I’ve got a Brendan Gallagher home red jersey taking up a place of honour in my closet at home, so don’t feel like Montreal ain’t welcome with me.”

She shoots the grappler a wink before walking past him, the shot fading out as Mack watches her go.

-----

We cut to Isabel in the locker room after having taken a few minutes to thoroughly scrub her face, cracking another can of High Voltage™ as she settles down on a steel chair to look at a tablet, set up to replay the Kirsty McKinney versus Graysie Parker match. She watches silently, going through the match at double speed as she drinks; after all, she doesn’t have all night to finish preparing for her next bout. Finally it’s done and she closes the tablet, sighing a little before turning her eyes to the camera.

“I find myself wondering if Kirsty McKinney feels as annoyed about winning with that kind of bullshit interference as I do. State champion wrestler and all that, I’d hope you actually give a shit about being the best and not just getting your hand raised by any means necessary. And yeah, there’s a difference. Call me naive if you want, an idealist, a babe in the goddamn woods, whatever. I want to be the best, period, no asterisks, and that means winning matches without having someone save my lovely, thick ass.”

Isabel takes a long drink, standing up from the chair, starting to pace as she continues.

“I can’t really, in good conscience, shit on you for picking up the win after Timeless laid out Graysie Parker; not when I got my win after my opponent got cold-cocked with brass knuckles. And I’m taking this seriously enough that I’m not even gonna make a bad ‘cocked with her pussy out’ joke about it. Though I am very grateful nothing like that happened given where my head was when Blaze got hit.”

She shakes her head, taking another drink before tossing the now-empty can into a bin.

“So, let’s see how this goes when hopefully neither of us has people coming headhunting from the back for us, eh? Just you and me. And I’m not walking out there unaccustomed to being on my own like your last opponent. I am little miss DIY and you having your manager out there while I’m all by my lonesome won’t faze me one bit. So now you’ve got it to do, no distractions, no bullshit. Every time you shoot a takedown, I’m gonna make it hurt whether you put me on the mat or not. Knees, elbows, fists, forearms, feet, headbutts, all the shit you weren’t allowed to do in college, I’ve been doing it for years and sweet pea you might as well call me X ‘cause I’m gonna give it to ya.”

Isabel smiles grimly into the camera, no longer pacing.

“This is your chance, Kirsty. You can show the world you care about being the best and we can do this, just us, beat the shit outta each other and see who goes on to the finals. That’s how I wanna do it. But if you wanna go the other way, we can do that too; there’s a six figure check on the line for whoever wins this match and while I’d much rather do this all the right way, if you decide you’re gonna try and get your hand raised by any means necessary? Just ‘cause I don’t like doing it that way doesn’t mean I can’t and it doesn’t mean I can’t do it really, really well. I am in a bad fuckin’ mood at the moment and it won’t take much pushing to have me replying in kind, not the way I’m feeling right now.”

“Lace those boots up real tight Kirsty, ‘cause if I’ve gotta knock you right outta them tonight I will. See you out there soon enough.”

Isabel turns and heads out the locker room door as the shot fades out.

[Jay Stevens]

Backstage in the SWAT final prep point, Katie Moss stands center, dressed in a smart black blazer and matching skirt. Standing with her is tonight’s challenger for the Amazons Championship.

Moss:
“Katie Moss here with ‘Kid Dynamite’ Nicole Anderson. Nicole, you’re challenging The Industrial Woman tonight for the Amazons Championship, how are you feeling going into the match?”

Kid Dynamite pulls the hood of her bright white warm-up jacket down and sweeps from her face the loose strands of hair not captured by her braid.

Anderson:
“I am pumped. I was chosen to represent Northern Pro Wrestling and believe it, I’m going to represent. I am here to win and I’m here to take the gold.”

Moss:
“The Industrial Woman has been a dominant champion and no woman has been able to ‘crack the code’ to defeat her. What will you be able to do differently to change the outcome where everyone else has failed?”

Anderson:
“She may have been built for this, literally, but I was born for this. It’s in my DNA to fight and to fly above the rest. She may have been programmed to ‘act’ great, but I just am[/b] great. Plus I’ve got all the cheat codes. I’m talking command prompts, keystroke sequences and if all else fails, I’ll just hit her with the old control, alt, delete and restart her.”

Moss just stares at Anderson who is clearly searching for a reaction, repeatedly nudging the young reporter with her elbow.

Anderson:
“Lighten up Katie, it’s all fun and games, didn’t you hear? Isn’t that what we’re here for? To be silly and just have fun? Coat ourselves in motor oil and raid the recycling bin for our ring gear?”

Moss:
“Well.. um…”

Kid Dynamite’s tone changes and, as she looks into the camera, her eyes widen and convey an intense anger.

Anderson:
“No, this is professional wrestling. I’m not here to play games out there with that outdated hardware, I’m here to install a brand new operating system. I haven’t spent my entire life competing to lose to a Russian TwitterBot. It’s all ones and zeroes in her head and that’s good, because that’s what I’ll be against The Industrial Woman after tonight… one and zero.”

Moss:
“Kid Dynamite is certainly ready for action tonight. Back to you at ringside.”

The energetic blonde perks back up and giggles.

Anderson:
“Don’t cut it off, Katie, I’ve got a million of them!”

Anderson flips her hood back up, sticks her tongue out and flashes a peace sign at the camera before it abruptly cuts.

[Dylan]

---

---

01/24/2021

New York, New York

The Amazon's Arena

We open on the exclusive locker room to Los Reyes de la Lucha. A reporter comes in to see Dylan Black stretching ahead of his title match later tonight. There's no sign ahead of El Combatiente - perhaps he's taking lead on interviewing elsewhere as part of his duties as SWAT World Heavyweight Champion. This guy? He's here for the big man of the XHF Network. He knocks on the door.

Reporter: Excuse me, Mr. Black? A moment of your time?

Dylan stretches back, nodding.

Dylan: Yeah, sure. Make it quick though. Never know when they might call me for my match, and I cannot be late.

The reporter nods, and beckons a cameraman into the room. The reporter takes an official stance, mic by his mouth and the other hand behind his back.

Reporter: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Don Haytham, lead reporter behind the scenes here at SWAT. We're here with the current XHF X*Crown Champion Dylan Black ahead of his tag team title match tonight, where he and partner El Combatiente challenge the KGB for the hottest tag straps in the biz. How you feeling about your chances tonight, champ?

Dylan: I've got to say, Don, I feel pretty great. E.C. and I have talked a lot, we know Armand and Frostbite inside and out and we're confident we have a solid battle strategy ahead of the match.

Don Haytham: Now, I wanted to talk a bit about you and El Combatiente a bit. This is your first shot at tag titles of any sort as a duo, correct?

Dylan: Yes sir. We had a small run in Japan as part of the Sakura tag league but we're here now to take what does not belong to the KGB - the SWAT Heavyweight Tag Team Championships.

Don Haytham: Now, there are some people out there, namely KGB's Eddie D, who says its a disgrace that you, a native of J-ROK, have come into SWAT and in your first two matches, get shots at the Singles and Tag Heavyweight Championships. That guys like you are what's wrong with the business. Care to respond to those accusations?

Dylan scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Dylan: I think I earned my rights at these SWAT Championships the second Eddie D came at my championship and fell short. He came to the XHF shows representing SWAT and he disappointed. So now here I am in SWAT, doing real champ shit. Showing him how to represent a brand and look good doing it.

He shakes his head.

Dylan: Besides, it wasn't my decision to make either of these matches with the title on the line. You want to be pissed I got a shot at my best friend's title? Blame your boss Armand. He's the one who twisted the knife in El Combatiente's back and put his title on the line in what was a simple tag match. I can't point the finger at any specific member of the SWAT management team for this tag title match. But maybe, just maybe you don't get the title shots because you're not a draw. You're a failure. And you have exactly nothing to prove for your glory except loss after loss.

He takes a step back to breath. He's getting heated up for all the wrong reasons.

Dylan: Don, you're getting me off track. Eddie ain't who I'm here for, we've got to talk shop. Let's talk the other members of KGB. Let's talk Armand, let's talk Frostbite.

Don Haytham: Sure, sure. I bet you have a lot to say about Armand. After all, he is one vying for that strap of yours at Supremacy.

Dylan: Yeah, sure sure. Armand and I, we've thrown a lot of words at one another. The point of no return for him was when he kidnapped the fiancé of a buddy of mine, to try to get an edge on my cybernetics. Let me tell you, Armand, you're no more than a stingy cheap suit who thinks he can wrestle. I've seen you in action, and you certainly can't wrestle. By hook or by crook, you're going down!

Don Haytham: And there's the other man, Frostbite, who Javier and E.C. have accused of being mentally damaged due to his recent string of... odd vignettes. Do you care to comment, disparage these comments, endorse them?

Dylan: Here's the thing, Don-o. I don't like derogatory shit. I don't like people using slurs, or even insinuating things like that.

Don Haytham: Care to comment on your comments about Seth Dillinger throughout 2019?

Dylan: It was a rough point of my life and I felt it best to take my anger out on someone. And I can get very angry. Let that get the best of me.

He clears his throat.

Dylan: Anyway, regardless of the mental state of Frostbite, or anyone else in that SWAT locker room, I can't den talent. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Frostbite has talent. That's undeniable. You saw it front and center last week on New Year's Nightmare. But Frost, he doesn't have that special "it" factor that guys like me, guys like El Combatiente have. It's why Armand picks up you and Eddie, Hehehe and Hahaha. You guys have no charisma and heaps of talent. Armand, he's got no talent in that ring but oozes machismo like a busted skull oozes blood. But that's fine, because he has the rest of the KGB to do the dirty shit. The fighting, the defending. The most he can do is give Blaze Freya a good sock in the jaw.

He shakes his head.

Dylan: Now it doesn't matter how many extra men or weapons Armand pulls out of his ass to try to take down E.C. and I, we've already proven we have what it takes when out backs are against the wall. Let's see how the KGB likes being cornered.

He gestures to the door.

Dylan: And with that, I think you've exceeded your welcome, Don. Keep an eye on my match, and be ready with the bubbly when Los Reyes de la Lucha take the SWAT Tag Team Championships and show the world why guys like us belong!

Don and the cameraman are ushered out the door, and the door is slammed shut. We fade back to... whatever is next.

---

[Justin]

Backstage, again.

Graysie Parker’s dressing room isn’t what you’d call rinky-dink, what with her manager and mentor being who he is, but it’s not huge, either. At most buildings it’s a step above your average locker room, usually a converted conference room or what have you.

Such is the case tonight deep inside of the Amazon’s arena.

Graysie sits on a comfortable looking couch with her shoulders slumped over, her face in her hands, with tears streaming down hot, reddened cheeks. Tonight’s loss against Kirsty McKinney has been her first since losing her debut match in AWF oh so many months ago. That was another lifetime, however, tonight cut a lot deeper because of the implications and ramifications of said loss.

The young Suplex Siren is lost in her sulking when the door quietly opens.

“You…” Graysie grumbles as Eric Dane pokes his head in to check on her. “Where have you been ALL FREAKING NIGHT?”

Dane slinks further into the room.

“I heard what happened…” Eric trailed off.

“Oh, did ya now? What’d ya hear?”

“That you lost.”

Graysie’s eyes go red with rage. She clenches her teeth.

“Anything else?” She asks. “Any details?”

Eric drops his eyes to the floor, he’s got nothing.

“For starters, that unmitigated a-hole Oxford Osland came out, with a freaking bouquet of flowers, and danced around like an idiot distracting me! Was that all? HECK NO! Next thing I know his partner and your new best friend Keith Williams was in the ring distracting the referee!”

Eric looks up at her, not quite following.

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“Oh, THAT’S NOT IT! Next thing I know that muscle headed moron Alex Turner jumps the rail and he’s throwing me on my head at ringside! Why? I DON’T KNOW maybe because you’ve been mocking him for WEEKS in NPW and you won’t give him a title shot? HMM MAYBE? But that doesn’t matter though because the OTHER guy at ringside who hates you, Jeff Andrews, made sure that McKinney made me pay for all of YOUR mistakes when she stacked me up like a pile of pancakes and put ME out of the Tournament!”

Graysie is pissed, that much is clear. She glares at Dane as he processes the block of information she’d just dropped on his head, and his slowness to respond wasn’t helping his case any little bit.

“Graysie… I…” he trailed off.

“You what, Eric? What?”

A shrill, loud ringtone came from the breast pocket of Eric’s tailor-made suit jacket. Graysie’s eyes got even wider, even more filled with red hot rage at her mentor. The phone rang momentarily as she stared holes into him, non-verbally daring him to answer that phone.

“Graysie. You know I gotta take this.”

“You do what you gotta do. I’m going home.”

The ringing finally stops as The Only Star taps the phone awake and answers. He listens intently for a moment before answering.

“Yeah. Listen. Hang on just a sec.” Turning his attention back to Graysie he pleads. “Look, I gotta go take care of this, it’s important. But I’ll be back in half an hour, I swear no more than forty-five minutes! We’ll talk about this, work it all out!”

Eric waits for any hint of acceptance from Graysie.

She turns her back on him.

The confidence in Eric’s face wavers.

He wants to say more.

He wants to stay.

Instead, he convinces himself that everything will be alright.

Then, he slinks right back out from whence he came.

[vastrix]

In one of the Conference rooms of the arena, Armand von Krauss sits at the head of the table. Hehehe, Hahaha, and Sticky the Clown also sit at this table. Noticeably absent is Gabriel Tuck, who has not been seen since Armand threw him off a bridge in Anchorage, Alaska.

Armand lights himself an Egyptian cigarette, blowing smoke into the air as he regards his underlings with a frown.

Von Krauss: It has come to my attention that you people have been failing me left and right. I have decided to recruit a new man to be in charge of all of you, and Gabriel if he is alive. Please welcome…

A clown enters the room. Not any ordinary clown for that would be boring wouldn’t it? No, he has white face paint with black lips. You would think that he were maybe something of a mime except for the fact he is dressed like a circus ringmaster, complete with a top hat and monocle over his right eye.

Von Krauss: Sir Samuel Pattington the Third. He will be in charge of you all when I am not around.

Pattington: Ahem. I know my name is a bit much for you lot to remember so I am good with being called Sir Monocle if it will help you fine chaps. I can’t wait to get down and dirty with you all to do Mr. Von Krauss’ good work.

Armand just smiles, blowing smoke from his nose as he looks around the room.

Von Krauss: Any questions?

Hehehe: We don’t-

Hahaha: Like this.

Sticky looks over at Sir Monocle with a look of distaste. Sir Monocle is roughly six foot tall, maybe two hundred pounds. Sticky could snap him in half without breaking a sweat.

Sticky: I have to admit to some trepidation about this new plan. How do we know that this new clown is a good one?

Von Krauss: Let me rephrase myself.

Armand flicks ashes onto the floor and reaches into a pocket to pull out the brass knuckles that he used to knock out Blaze Freya. They, naturally, say PIE like the other ones that the twins, Sticky, and Gabriel use. He sets the weapon on the table.

Von Krauss: Any questions now?

There is silence in the room. Even Sticky looks uneasy at the threat currently in the room. Armand silently picks the brass knuckles up and puts them back into his pocket.

Von Krauss: Frostbite and I have to defend our tag team titles tonight against Dylan Black and El Combatiente. It’s our last hold on this company outside of the shares I have. I will not be losing it tonight. I want you all to be on high alert during the match to make sure fools like Death Trap do not interfere. This is going to be my night.

Sir Monocle: Is this not your and Frostbite’s night?

Armand von Krauss just shrugs with a smile, flicking his cigarette butt against the wall.

Von Krauss: His night, my night. We are KGB. We are, how did Paul put it when he was in charge? The baddest stable around. We are what makes SWAT tick. We are what the fans have come tonight to see. They all claim to love the heroes and they cheer for the heroes, but the hero is nothing without the villain. I am painted as the villain in this scenario. It’s unfortunate, but true.

El Combatiente, you’ll be weaker tonight trying to go for more gold. You will be weakened by the KGB. You will not earn the tag straps. You will be weakened so that when one of the KGB wins that Rumble. That person will be taking your title. The KGB will be regaining their position in the company as the lead stable around.

Dylan Black, we face each other in two battlefields soon enough. Do not think that I will go easy on you in either one. Your defeat is inevitable. I will bring the X*Crown to SWAT. I will bring SWAT to the XHF Network, take it over, and rebrand it into the SWAT Network.

[Jesse Jamester]

Tap… tap.. TAP.


Smacking the pavement with his left foot, was the Canadian Nightmare from Northern Pro Wrestling, Jesse Jamester. Standing somewhere in the back loading docks where a semi-truck was being unloaded by a self-driving forklift.

Earlier that day Jesse had commandeered a suite as his locker room. SWAT event staff attempted to remove him. Even going so far as to hire a locksmith to get the door opened. Alas, he was not there. Exiting through what they described as a “kool-aid man size hole in the wall,” allegedly.

Back to the docks. An impatience grew in the steady tapping of Jesse’s foot before he shifted his weight to a balance and it stopped. In the distance a music could be heard approaching the bay area.



Louder and louder the horns play, almost mariachi in harmony. Up pulls the rusted out black Ford F-150 Jesse had left parked somewhere on I-80 outside of Buffalo, New York. Custom tuned with a horn straight out of a Cheech and Chong film.

Jesse Jamester: What in the-- Never mind I don’t even wanna know!

Staring down at a younger 20-something male with bleach blond crew cut, a chiseled jaw-line, and piercing blue eyes sitting in the front seat. The son of Calgary’s favorite heel, Julius Fristik. Parking the truck and hitting the horn one last time, much to the dissatisfaction of Jesse Jamester. The male jumps out of the truck and gestures with his arms like a game show host unveiling a prize.

Julius Fristik: What do ya think aye?

Jesse Jamester: I hope that wasn’t extra.

Julius: Free with a bag of peanuts.

Eyes narrowing, Jesse gets it, his son is having a poke of fun with him. Might have bothered him if it was anyone else, but being new to the whole ‘I have a kid’ thing, he chalked it up as bonding.

Jesse: Did you get what I asked for?

Julius: Yeah but why did you need g-

Jesse: SHHHHHHHHHH! (lowering his voice) You never know who is watching.

Julius: WHAAAAT!?

Yelling in response to the noisy dock area, Jesse looks around in paranoia, before glaring back at his shorter son.

Jesse: You’re lucky your blood kid. Listen, I don’t have many friends. Actually, in this business I may have ONE person. So I’m counting on you, as an unknown, to have my back, aye?

Nodding in response rather than in a word, Julius understood what he was saying and started to rationalize how this could cause some paranoia.

Jesse: I’m not Dylan Black, with the golden ticket to the Network, but I definitely have a target painted on my back. There are a lot of people who would love nothing more than dear old dad to be laid up in the hospital and nursing an injury. I have to play this smart, it’s a-boot to get ugly in the Rumble.

Julius: Ugly? You’re a fucking legend dad!

Jesse: Not to these people. I’m bottom of the pile, NPW-trash. I’m stealing their spotlight and promoting another company, so don’t think for nano-second anyone is going to be giving me a hand shake and looking to assist out there tonight. Nobody in this match is friends, except the ReVenants; those two appear to be on the same page, that is, until one has something to gain.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jesse looks down at the sack Julius is holding in his left hand.

Jesse: Soooo-you going to give me the bag?

Shaking his head dumbfoundedly, Julius realizes he is still holding the potato sack like brown bag, pulled shut by a tied drawstring. Handing it over to Jesse who then pulls the knotted drawstring and peaks in the bag.

Jesse: Ah yessss- this is going to be a great night!

Julius: What do you want me to do again? I remember ringside seats being mentioned.

Jesse: Yeaaah, so you see what had happened was….

Raising an eyebrow with a look of skepticism on his face, Julius could tell his dad had gone and done something foolish.

Julius: For real? I don’t even have tickets to watch you live for the first time ever? Father-of-the-year, I say not!

Jesse: Listen, I need you here! Truck ready to go when I come out. We may need to bolt when the dust settles. I’ll get you front row seats for Vicious Valentine’s in Northern Pro, okay?

Julius: I better get backstage access for this miracle I pulled off. Ya know, you could afford to buy a new truck with all the merch you’re selling.

Jesse: If it aint broke-

Julius: It literally was broke!

Jesse: But you fixed it right?

Sternly looking at his stubborn dad, the two were bickering like a real family, and noticed it.

Julius: Seriously, you need to invest in something that doesn’t feel like Fred Flintstone owned it.

Jesse: Fine hot shot, we’ll go look at some trucks tomorrow. I need you to focus though! Tonight, everything could go sideways, and not like oh it didn’t go as planned-- no, like ‘get me out of the country’ sideways, aye!

Julius: Ah-right, I’m at your service pops, whatever you need.

Jesse: Good. Now listen, what I have planned doesn’t paint me in a favorable light - but it’s not personal, it’s just business, okay?

Julius: Did you seriously just use your catch line on me?

Jesse: Good huh?

Julius: Not even a smidge.

Jesse: One potential problem is Joseph Mack. If I eliminate him first, he may leave early. I can’t have him leaving early okay? Regardless of whatever happens, I want you to make sure that he doesn’t get out of the building before us.

Julius: Seriously, why?

Jesse: Don’t question me kid! I owe him some money, what's it to you!

Julius: Sure thing.

Jesse: Are you sure you’re my son? You sure say a lot of stupid shit for a 20-some-year-old.

Julius: Wonder where I got it from Mister Business not Pleasure.

Jesse: For fuck’s sake! Respect the fact that I can slap that slogan on a shirt and sell it like hot dogs kid! Then you’ll have an inkling of an idea of what it takes to make it as a contractor in a world of carnies.

The serious tone had come out, all joking was over and the patience Jesse Jamester normally had, along with that balance of confidence and swagger, was being tested.

Jesse Jamester: These sheep here in SWAT want to call themselves the best thing since sliced bread, and talk of achievements and their ‘vision for the future’ but here’s the bones I have a-boot that! Not one of these stars have ever gone toe-to-toe with me, besides Joseph Mack. Outside of him, they are all new prey, and every person I eliminate is another tally mark on my sales sheet! Converting these fans to a Canadian Nightmare viewer is what I’m all about. Tonight it has nothing to do with the Syndicate and everything to do with ME.

Julius: Are you cutting--- nevermind, go ahead.

Jesse Jamester: You asked me to mentor you, and if you want to be the best of all time, you better be ready to drop a promo on the spot son. Not everyone can do it, only a select few have ever been considered great at it, and every one, and I do mean everyone thinks they are Elvis on the microphone. Yet, there is only one true king and he’s not dead, ya hear me?

Nodding, Julius pays attention to his dad, realizing it was a teachable moment and probably best if he does not interrupt the tangent.

Jesse Jamester: I may not be the fan favorite anywhere I go, hell I’m not trying to be. These fans can boo the living hell out of me tonight, and that is perfectly fine. I want them to react, because it’ll mean I woke up this dead ass audience and sparked a bit of fire for them boys to get recognized. In turn, the merch will fly, the truck will buy itself, and the world will be right again ya see?

Julius: What about this Joseph Mack guy?

Jesse: He’s taken care of.

Julius: Seriously, just like that?

Jesse: I’m not worried about that piece of the puzzle. I have to be ready for the other twenty-eight people looking to dump me on my head. This isn’t a match of super kicks and spectacles, it’s an endurance test. Thankfully, the network's best is competing in a tag match later on. Probably too scared to enter the rumble and face the likes of me, especially after that near disaster with Eric Dane that Timeless saved his ass on.

Non-chalant in shrugging, Jesse pivots and motions to his kid to follow as he begins to walk through the docking station area to the only doors leading into the building.

Jesse Jamester: Oxford Osland, Keith Williams, DT, Johnnie Valentine, some clowns and their ring leader, a guy named Psychotic Goth, don’t get me started on that one - and Frostbite. I’m use to the cold, but come on, we saw Batman with George Clooney, and Mr. Frost was not cool. For every guy with a generated gimmick name from the machine, there is someone who has proven that they deserve a shot. I’m not afraid of anybody Julius, not a soul! Hell the Hulk could come to that ring tonight and I’d Jesterplex his ass into next week! It’s people like Timeless, Jay Stevens, and the manager’s that could potentially come out and try and throw a wrench into our plans.

Julius: Don’t sweat it, you’re more prepared than they are.

Jesse Jamester: Listen good. Paranoia, makes you ready. Everyone who calls it a problem has neglected to see the benefits. I spent a good bit of time earlier this day running through tape as I warmed up. If the XHF Rumble of 2020 taught me anything, you don’t discount the dude who isn’t in the ring- they are the most likely to cause the biggest headache.

Julius: So what are you saying?

Jesse Jamester: Expect the unexpected kid. That’s the only way you’re leaving a match like this with your head on your shoulders.

Walking through the doors, the two disappear out of sight of the drone that was catching this all.

[edwarddubin0604]

("Money" plays and the ringsiders roar as CEO Angela comes to ringside looking side to side. She enters the ring and stands in the center looking side to side as the ringsiders chant her name.)

CEO Angela: "I'm glad to be back in the Amazons Arena which is the house that I helped to rebuild."

(The ringsiders roar and chant SWAT Amazons.)

CEO Angela: "You know it's good to be back in the division I led for eight months and I now I'm back trying to save SWAT from a fate worse than you know what from you know whom."

(The ringsiders boo at who she's referring to.)

CEO Angela: "Oh you love him too huh."

(The ringsiders cheer.)

CEO Angela: "You know Armand. You should read the book 'Making Friends and Influencing People. Then again you already made plenty of friends by assaulting stockholders, beating up wrestlers and managers, sending a lackey to screw Frostbite of his dream of being world champion. Oh and let's not forget your attacks on both Psychotic Goth and Pequeno Dinosaurio. The list goes on and on and the line of admirers keeps getting longer and longer to kick your ass all over the place."

(The ringsiders roar.)

CEO Angela: "Oh by the way Armand you can brag that I'm going to be begging you and this and that all because the value of SWAT merchandise would be worthless but nothing could be further from the truth."

(She removes a series of articles from her trenchcoat and unfolds one article.)

CEO Angela: "I have a series of articles from this past week. Imagine here is one article from the Wall Street Journal who's headline reads 'SWAT Merchandise Sales have increased by seventy-five percent meaning more profits for the wrestlers Armand. Who knows maybe you can
come up with that 25million buy my shares after all. Then again you don't even have that kind of money."

(The ringsiders cheer.)

CEO Angela: "Now speaking of which after serious negotiations the contract has been renewed meaning all SWAT superstars will be receiving even bigger percentages."

(She another article and unfolds it.)

CEO Angela: "Here's an interesting article from Variety titled 'SWAT Ratings Up by 75percent.' Imagine that. Imagine the XHF is starting to take notice and various wrestlers are coming to wrestle here or are touring SWAT just for the competition. Of course our wrestlers are doing the same thing and participating in various XHF events bringing attention to SWAT as well."

(CEO Angela folds the articles up and places them back in her trenchcoat.)

CEO Angela: "Now I can go on and on but I want to credit those who really brought this success and that is all you great SWAT fans. Without you SWAT wouldn't be the successful fed it is."

(The ringsiders chant SWAT.)

CEO Angela: "Now to the true reason I'm out here. Since Armand issued that challenge for control of the SWAT stock by presenting a champion to wrestle him for control of SWAT. Now since then I had no number of wrestlers volunteers lining up and wanting to kick Armand's ass. I guess this proves that you have such great popularity and friendship with the rest of the locker room roster."

(The ringsiders cheer.)

CEO Angela: "Now do you need a bunch of clowns to do your dirty work. I mean you allegedly got rid of Gabriel Tuck because he failed in his screw job embarrassing Frostbite because you don't think Frostbite can beat El Combatiente. Then again you probably have plans to steal the championship for yourself. So it goes without saying you plan on sending out your clowns just to win your match and steal the stock. This will only prove that you can't beat anyone all by yourself."

(The ringsiders mock Armand.)

CEO Angela: "Now to who I'm choosing as my champion. After considering all the factors and who has the biggest grudge against Armand and believe me the list is quite long, So after careful consideration and since I want someone who is cold and ruthless and loves bloodshed. So I chose a true maniac and that individual is....."

(The ringsiders roar and begin shouting out names of various wrestlers as Angela pauses and looks around dramatically.)

CEO Angela: "My choice to represent me and SWAT to determine ownership of SWAT is.....Psychotic Goth."

(The tron shows Psychotic Goth roaring in a Seneca dialect.)

Psychotic Goth: "I shall not disappoint you Angela and I shall destroy Armand once and for all. I'm going to not just hurt Armand. I'm not going to just beat Armand down. I'm going to destroy him. I'm going to place him in a crypt that shall be sealed forever and he shall be sealed forever in hell. I'll even include you pet clowns including that Teddy Paddington clown you hired. You shall rot in hell. Thus I have spoken and thus I shall make this omen come true."

CEO Angela: "Looks like someone is truly pissed off at you. Prepare to make sure your insurance premiums are paid off and your hospital bed is reserved. You're going to be getting surgery. Now for one last piece of business....."

(Two men come out with a big check and enter the ring with it.)

CEO Angela: "I authorized a check for a cool two million dollars to replace the lost prize money. I'm going to put it up every year until SWAT recovers the money Zoran Sainovich or shall I really say Pepe Morales stole. It's the least I can do since it's only fair. So I'meaving that up with the management. Right now I have other business to attend to."

("Money" plays and Angela and the two men leave the ring to roars and chants as the scene slowly fades to black.)

[BlazeFNfreya]

-We fade back into the last place we saw her before this embarrassing loss to Rios of all women, and shortly after entering the halls of the backstage area we see The Blackpool Bombshell, now with her tights pulled UP; storming her way past us knocking over two tables and a vending machine on her way to the locker room of none other than KGB's very own Eddie D! She bangs her tight fist against the door and shouts-

"KNOCK, KNOCK, EDDIE! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE N' I KNOW YOU KNOW WHERE ARMAND IS, SO OPEN UP, BUB! I JUST WANNA TALK!"

-She kicks the door out of frustration, still rubbing her head and regaining consciousness after being laid out by Armand Von Krauss-

"TAKE IT EASY!? TAKE IT EASY!! WHAT'S YOUR BEEF WITH ME SWEET CHEEKS? I take it he rained on your parade like he said he would?"

i2-prod.gazettelive.co.uk/incoming/article14252877.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/DHR_MGA_060218mgaEddie2.jpg

-He shouted back in response from the other side of the door. This only further infuriated the fiery haired bratty Brit and she presses her cheek against the solid wood, almost gritting her teeth as she spoke-

"Oh, you little bastard. I'm gonna rain down hell on The KGB n' you're IN The KGB, are you not? RHETORICAL QUESTION, JACKASS! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT ANSWERING THAT! YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO COME OUT SOONER OR LATER AND WHEN YOU DO!!!"

-She leans her head back and laughs sadistically, sort of moaning before finishing her sentence-

"When you come outta there, I'm gonna kick you in the fuckin' teeth! So you can run n' tell THAT, homeboy! Tell it to Armand AND Frostbite you stupid little MESSENGER!!!"

"Hey!! If your smart mouth got you into hot water that ain't my fault! You cross Armand or fail him and you will pay for it. I almost found that out the hard way. I'm gonna open this door now. Let's talk like fellow SWAT wrestlers. Let's use our words like adults should..."

-Eddie clunks the lock on the door open and looks to be opening the door gently to chat, but suddenly swings up his baseball bat, opens the door forcefully and swings the bat at head height as hard as he can... But all he hits is air and the follow through clatters the bat loudly off the corridor wall. Eddie looks around, up and down the hallway, cluttered with boxes and equipment and scratches his head confused-

"Dumb broad thinks she can threaten me and then hits the road? Mess with a bull, you get the horns..."

-While Eddie puffed out his chest and looked manly for the camera, a quick flash was seen behind him entering the door quickly and silently. He took one more look down the hall and then swung the door shut behind him. Luckily, a new shot from behind The Blackpool Bombshell makes sure we see every second of this glorious first-time encounter. He sets the bat down, chuckling and still oblivious to her presence until he looks up and sees her taking a bite out of one of his donuts! She chews it up and swallows, shrugging and tossing it carelessly over her right shoulder-

“I prefer bagels…”

-His face goes pale white and he reaches for the bat but before he can grasp it, TORN!!! She spears him THROUGH the door to his locker room from the inside out to the hallway where she rises up from the wreckage and releases a gut-wrenching, heartfelt war cry. Blaze then kisses Eddie on the forehead, licking down his cheek seductively before strutting away chuckling over her shoulder as Eddie tries to get up and just falls back down into wreckage of the door. This satisfies her beyond belief, sending a shiver down her spine as she finally leaves him be and turns the corner to continue searching for Armand-

"Breaking your heart or your ribs... Women are the worst..."

-Eddie slowly gets back to his feet holding his gut and looks sorrowfully at the half eaten donut, trudging back into the dressing room as the camera fades to black. Will the raging young Bratty Brit get her revenge on Armand or will he once again outsmart and embarrass Blaze Freya!? Find out on the next episode brought to you by SWAT!!!-