Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2020 7:31:37 GMT -7
FURY ROAD #7
10/2/2020
BRENAU DOWNTOWN CENTER (BRENAU UNIVERSITY)
Gainesville, GA
BACKSTAGE
Cameras catch up with a member of the security team in the backstage area, chatting with a few members of his crew. As the original two depart, another comes up to him, looking harried.
Security: Uh, chief, we got a trespasser out back of the arena. Near the loading dock entrance.
Security Chief: ...a trespasser?
Security: Don't know what else to call 'em. They got this painted-up black van sitting there and-
The chief groans and rolls his eyes.
Security Chief: So tell them to fuck off. We got a show to do.
Security: Well, I mean, I WOULD, but there's, um...
Security Chief: What?! Spit it out!
The officer has the good sense to look abashed, flushing pink.
Security: ...dogs. Maybe you oughta come see?
Clearly irritated with having to do someone else's job for them, the chief follows the unsettled officer to the loading dock, then to the door in question. Whipping the door open, the chief inadvertently allows the camera peering over his shoulder to get a good look at the black van in question. The late-model Chevrolet Express cargo van has a well-detailed metallic dragon streaking along the side, the ribbons above and below reading, respectively, “Chrome Dragon Customs” and “Metairie, Louisiana”. Both of the rear doors are open as well, with some smoke puffing out of the back.
Security Chief: Hey! You can't park here!
Speaking clearly and sharply, and loudly, the chief takes a few steps toward the van, a couple paces closer as well to the identity of the person belonging to the long legs settled on the concrete and the smoke wafting off into the breeze.
Security: Uh, chief, maybe don't-
Security Chief: Can it! You dragged me out here, so I'm gonna handle-
...something, certainly. He's going to handle something. That something is not likely to be the pair of pitbulls that come stalking around the van from the far side. One black and one brown, the dogs look like furry, four-legged bodybuilders. If they could talk, surely they would have made the joke about doing too many curls to walk straight. Instead, they turn their eyes on the source of the yelling and snarl. The brown one barks threateningly while the black one edges closer, never taking his eyes off the two men.
Security Chief: Shit... you didn't tell me these things were tanks!
Security: I tried!
The chief slowly, never taking his eyes off the animals, pulls out a telescoping baton from the rear of his belt, snapping it to its full length with the flick of a wrist. The dogs are not impressed. Neither is the smoker in the van.
?: Put it away before you piss them off, asshole. Because even if you do make them back off, I'll beat you to death for hitting my dogs.
Security Chief: Call 'em off! Then move this fuckin' van-
The dogs snarl threateningly again. The man mutters something, then flicks the spent cancer stick away from the vehicle, the butt bouncing on the hard ground, letting loose a few weak sparks and ashes.
?: Fucking dipshit...
A looming form steps past the open doors, six-and-a-half feet if he's an inch, somewhat unruly brown hair streaked with gray atop his head. He wears a plain white tee under a leather vest in the style of a biker, well-worn jeans and black Harley boots. And at his sharp command-
?: Judas! Brutus! Sit!
The heavily-muscled dogs immediately cease snarling and barking and sit back on their haunches, looking up at the man with far more genial gazes than they offered security. When the man finally turns to the camera and the security guards, Judas and Brutus seated on either side of him, he is finally recognized as one of the newest signees to Southern Rebellion... Trenton 'Forge' Mitchell. Folding thick, powerful arms across a broad, well-toned chest, he glowers at the two security doofs.
Forge Mitchell: What the fuck do you two morons want? You come out here, interrupting my quiet time by threatening my boys and trying to tell me what to do?
Security: B-But... you can't park here-
Forge Mitchell: Either of you gonna make me move? Cause if not, I don't give a rat's ass.
Clearly, Forge isn't in the mood for banter. Just the chief moving to put the baton away has Forge snapping his attention in the man's direction. Brutus growls a little but Forge gives him a forward look and the dog quiets almost immediately. Back to the glare.
Security Chief: What... what're you even doing out here? You're not booked tonight!
Forge Mitchell: Yeah, fuckin' imagine that. That Rhodes woman signs on one of the baddest motherfuckers walking this planet and then doesn't bother putting me in the ring. Unless you count that worthless pile that got fed to me a couple weeks ago. I've beaten down bigger people than that fucknut on my way to a real fight. Hell was his name? Brutus? Seriously... I should have fed him to the REAL Brutus after I kicked the shit out of him.
For a moment, Forge reaches down to scratch the brown pittie behind the ears. Then from behind his ear, Forge takes down another Marlboro and puts it between his lips, lighting it and taking a long drag before pointing the lit fag at the two security dudes.
Forge Mitchell: Why am I here, though? Because I'm fucking bored, that's why. I didn't ink a contract with this place to sit on my ass and channel surf. And I sure as hell didn't do it for the company of the pussy brigade prancing around in that locker room. I'm here to deliver beatings and cash checks. So I showed up tonight, thinking I might find a little action. Instead, I'm shortening my lifespan by eleven minutes at a time listening to the drones in the cheap seats cheer on clowns in the ring that my dogs could chew up and shit out in nine seconds flat... you know... instead of being in there myself, making the aforementioned clowns spit out their fucking teeth. That a good enough answer for you?
The smaller guard, still somewhat behind the chief, mutters under his breath.
Security: Gee, tell us how you really feel...
Forge Mitchell: Oh, do we have a volunteer?
Security: ...!
The glare has a grin added to it, but it is still a glare... and the guard is blanching a whiter shade of pale.
Forge Mitchell: C'mere, motherfucker.
Security: I-
Forge Mitchell: That wasn't a fuckin' request. Bring your ass over here or I'll have my dogs drag you over here. They LOVE playing fetch.
Looking at the chief, whose only response is to jerk his head sharply in Forge's direction, the guard ambles over as slowly as he reasonably can. Thankfully, Judas and Brutus don't bark or growl, though they DO stare at the guy. Forge is a good eight or nine inches taller that this guy, who is almost literally in his shadow. Lowering his arms, Forge leans in close, his index finger indicating a small, oddly-shaped scar near the middle of his brow.
Forge Mitchell: Y'see that, kid? Look at it.
Security: Y-Yes?
Forge Mitchell: Y'know how I got that?
Security: Uh, n-no?
The guard leans in a little more, but backs up a step as Forge straightens up, his grin more of a snarl now.
Forge Mitchell: Someone disrespected my lady at the high school prom. I told his punk ass that he needed to man up and fuckin' apologize. Instead, he tried to buck up to me. That scar?
He leans in again, that predatory grin returning.
Forge Mitchell: That's where I headbutted him in the mouth so hard it took out a damn tooth, and that tooth stuck in my fuckin' head. Know what happened after that?
Security: No...?
Forge Mitchell: After he spit up blood all over his thousand-dollar tuxedo, he fuckin' apologized. Then I showed my lady how a real man treats a real woman.
Security Chief: Okay, so what's that got to do with-
Forge Mitchell: Who told you you could open your fuckin' ball-washer?! Shut the fuck up!
He returns his attention to the smaller guard while the chief swallows his heart back down into his chest. Quietly.
Forge Mitchell: The richest daddy's boy in town, with all the backup that comes from being born with a silver spoon up your ass... and he'd piss his pants if I stared at him hard enough after that. Probably coulda had his daddy try and lock me up for assault, or at the very least send some goon squad to try and beat my ass. Fuck was I to any of them but an eighteen-year-old defensive lineman on the same high school football team, right? Dime a dozen. Nothin' special. Another muscled-up teenager with a bad attitude. But that didn't fuckin' happen. And you can bet your minimum wage paycheck that if I walked up to anyone in that locker room and knocked out an incisor or two? They wouldn't do a fuckin' thing either.
Security: Y-You know they'll, um... they'll probably see this... and-
Forge Mitchell: And what? Have a problem with it? Want to do something about it? Crawl up to Jackson or Rhodes and beg and plead for an opportunity to try me, hoping the world doesn't know that they're praying inside that the boss will say 'no'?
Security: W-Well... yeah.
Forge takes a long drag off the cig and exhales the smoke in two plumes through his nostrils.
Forge Mitchell: I hope they fuckin' do. The only way to get through to people like these wrestlers is to fuck with their pride, to call 'em out in such a way that they got no choice. Even knowing I'll stomp them into paste... it's either that or their pride. And these fuckers? They just can't handle someone screwing with their pride. I know that. Too damn well.
The Martyr Machine is a sharp one, it seems. He gives a sharp whistle, prompting Brutus and Judas to jump happily into the back of the van. The man himself walks to the driver's side door, which faces the building.
Forge Mitchell: But I guess that ain't happening tonight. Champions too busy polishing their belts, the girlie-girls are taking selfies and pushing those Instagram filters to the limit trying to look pretty after $500 work of makeup couldn't make it happen and the dudes are running the city out of baby oil for their roided-up pecs. And who fuckin' knows what the so-called bosses are doing. Certainly not giving ME something to do. So fuck it. I'll come back around next time. Maybe they'll put a warm body out there for me to beat on. God forbid someone make ME happy.
Neither guard nor chief have anything to say. They're probably happy to still have all their limbs. They simply watch as Forge gets into the van and tears off across the lot before going back into the building and making SURE that the door is locked.
CHERRY DEVILLE VS AURORA ZAMBROTTA
Cherry seems to underestimate her opponent and Aurora shifts the tide in the opening moments of the match, dodging a grapple attempt and nailing a spinning wheel kick. She catches Cherry as she starts to crumble and hits a tornado DDT and Cherry rolls out of the ring. On the outside, Aurora nails a few strikes before sending Cherry back-first into the ring post. She tosses her back inside and connects with a few stiff punches before a side kick that sends Cherry crashing against the corner. Aurora charges in and nails a Crash Landing crossbody. Cherry crumbles. Aurora slaps on a sleeper only for Cherry to jawbreaker out of it – holy shit, the tides turn and Aurora is met with a backbreaker then some chops that drive her back against the ropes. Cherry retaliates with a boot to the midsection, grabs Aurora around the waist – NO! Reversal into a rolling German suplex! Aurora hits a headbutt but Cherry fires back and dumps her on the ropes. Aurora goes for another diving crossbody but Cherry rolls through it and locks Aurora up into a schoolgirl! It's almost over there but Aurora manages to break free with sheer power and back kicks before sliding out to the floor.
She wiggles and slaps her butt, taunting Cherry to the joy of the crowd. Aurora slides back into the ring and draws first blood with a dropkick. They both go down and Cherry looks for a figure four but Aurora counters it with ease, transitioning into a crossface before Cherry dives into the ropes to save herself. Back on the offensive, Cherry nails Aurora with a sucker punch and then goes for the Cherry Picked – countered! Aurora dodges a grapple and nails a back elbow that leaves Cherry staggering back. TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER OUT OF NOWHERE! Aurora drops for the cover as the crowd goes nuts over the upset 1-2-3!!!
WINNER: AURORA ZAMBROTTA
She wiggles and slaps her butt, taunting Cherry to the joy of the crowd. Aurora slides back into the ring and draws first blood with a dropkick. They both go down and Cherry looks for a figure four but Aurora counters it with ease, transitioning into a crossface before Cherry dives into the ropes to save herself. Back on the offensive, Cherry nails Aurora with a sucker punch and then goes for the Cherry Picked – countered! Aurora dodges a grapple and nails a back elbow that leaves Cherry staggering back. TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER OUT OF NOWHERE! Aurora drops for the cover as the crowd goes nuts over the upset 1-2-3!!!
WINNER: AURORA ZAMBROTTA
IN-RING SEGMENT
"Savage" Remix by Megan Thee Stallion feat. Beyoncé hits over the public address system. As the fans boo loudly, out from the back comes wrestling's prettiest tag team along with their "Simp" Simon. The Mean Girls smirk smugly, posing for the cameras as the paparazzi takes pictures of them. They arrogantly sashay down the entrance ramp, brushing off the people they call basic, and uggos and taking the time to taunt as Veronica sprays perfume around them to get rid of the stench from the fans. As the devious duo stops on the entrance ramp beckoning Simon to get on his hands and knees next to the ring. As first Bianca steps on him, followed by Veronica who then stand on the ropes as Simon gets up, and runs up the stairs holding the ropes open for the Pretty Committee. They enter the ring and pose smugly, being booed loudly. The Queens of Mean soon stand in the corner ordering Simon to hold a mirror for them as they check out their looks blowing kisses toward it before ordering Simon to grab them a couple of microphones. They motion for their music to cut. As they move toward the center of the ring, they are handed the microphones by their manservant Simon who they motion to move back to a respectable distance. As the fans in the arena greet the two mean girls with loud boos, The Pretty Committee roll their eyes in disgust at the reaction. When the noise finally dies down, the girls lift microphones up to the their lips and begin to speak.
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: Oh my god, Veronica look at all of these uggos. They so need help and we can help them, right?
Veronica Taylor: So true I mean we all knew Georgia is filled with hideous, fat disgusting beasts but Gainesville is by far the worst. But thankfully we are miracle workers so if you are tired of being basic...
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: You all should be.
Veronica Taylor: Tired of being walking freak shows?
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: Again, you all should be!
Veronica Taylor: Wishing you too could be like us?!
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: Well they can't! No one can. But they can quit being such an eyesore to look at with our Pretty Committee Self help kit for ONLY $499.99 it has all you need to go from basic to non-basic and trust me you people need all the help you can get. And you can thank Wrestling's Prettiest Tag Team and your Ascendant Champion for this generous offer!
The fans boo loudly at the Meanest Girls in SRW who just pose smugly, soaking in the negative reaction. As the Pretty Committee pose, they look at Simon who begins clapping enthusiastically for them, trying to encourage the fans to follow suit. Veronica takes the microphone.
Veronica Taylor: Ugh, again so ungrateful you all are. Anyway, tonight we are making our SRW tag team debut on Fury Road of all shows? Really? Do they not know who we are like seriously we are the reason people tune in to watch, the reason for all your likes and follows on Twitter? And now we are stuck taking on some brother/sister duo from Philadelphia? Like, I feel gross just being in this match, Bianca.
Bianca and Veronica shudder in disgust, as the Queen B adjusts her title on her shoulder. Before speaking in the same smug tone.
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: Ugh, it is disgusting, and they think they are gonna waltz in and beat us? And have some feel good moment at our expense? That is where they are wrong! The only ones walking out with the victory is the Pretty Committee. Because they might be family, but when it comes to me and Veronica here it's all about the money, the fame and the spotlight that we deserve.
Veronica Taylor: Because the Pretty Committee is a world wide empire and the Pride Fighterz are gonna find out why the hard way. Don’t worry you can go and tell your low life friends after this that you had your brush with Wrestling's Prettiest Tag Team and got your makeover! Consider yourselves lucky we aren’t charging for this.
Bianca Davis-LeBlanc: And if you think anything different is gonna happen well we are gonna tell you this: the same thing Ugloo, and her hideous wife found out.
Pretty Committee: Sorry bout it!
The fans boo as Veronica, and Bianca began blowing smug kisses all around before doing the L on their foreheads toward the fans, and the entrance ramp. As they threw down the microphones, before going back to taking selfies together, of course keeping Simon out of the shot. A moment later "Survivor" by 2WEI explodes over the sound system and the duo are forced to stop snapping selfies as their opponents charge out from the back.
THE PRETTY COMMITTEE VS PRIDE FIGHTERZ
Avery stands across from Bianca, reading the Queen B the riot act as the music dies down. Bianca rolls her eyes and then turns to Asher, blowing him a kiss as she completely ignores his sister. Avery takes exception to that and spins Bianca around and clobbers her with a forearm to the chin as the bell rings. Bianca fires back some strikes of her own before she shoves Avery to the ropes and shoots her off. On the rebound she deep armdrags Avery to the mat. Avery gets up her feet and runs at Bianca, looking for a spinning wheel kick that completely misses the mark as Bianca drops into the splits and then chopblocks the back of Avery's knee. She dives into the corner, looking for a tag but Avery grabs her by the foot and hauls her back. Avery whips Bianca to the ropes and tries for a clothesline on the rebound – denied as Bianca ducks under! Avery turns around and gets met with a kick to the stomach from Bianca. The Ascension Champion catches her by the hair before she can fall and shoves her into the corner, making the tag to Veronica.
They level Avery with a Spa Day and now Veronica Taylor is in the match like a hot house on fire! Veronica drops an elbow across her throat and then slaps hands with Bianca again and the pair go for the Prettyfyer – NO! Asher dives in and saves his sister. Veronica rushes in and nails Asher with a flying forearm which knocks him between the ropes to the floor below and she dives between the ropes to land on Asher! Veronica continues brawling with Asher outside the ring while the referee concerns himself with the match inside. Avery is leaning up against the ropes as Bianca charges at her. As Bianca goes for a clothesline, Avery ducks and pulls down the top rope. Bianca goes spilling over and skins the cat to land on the apron. As Avery goes for a strike, she nails a shoulder block to the face and Avery goes down hard. Veronica, having managed to break away from Asher, is back in the corner for the hot tag and the pair nail their patented Ugliness Remover, going for the cover! Asher gets up on the apron but he's a split second too late as they get the 1-2-3 and their first win as a tag team in the company!!
WINNER: THE PRETTY COMMITTEE
They level Avery with a Spa Day and now Veronica Taylor is in the match like a hot house on fire! Veronica drops an elbow across her throat and then slaps hands with Bianca again and the pair go for the Prettyfyer – NO! Asher dives in and saves his sister. Veronica rushes in and nails Asher with a flying forearm which knocks him between the ropes to the floor below and she dives between the ropes to land on Asher! Veronica continues brawling with Asher outside the ring while the referee concerns himself with the match inside. Avery is leaning up against the ropes as Bianca charges at her. As Bianca goes for a clothesline, Avery ducks and pulls down the top rope. Bianca goes spilling over and skins the cat to land on the apron. As Avery goes for a strike, she nails a shoulder block to the face and Avery goes down hard. Veronica, having managed to break away from Asher, is back in the corner for the hot tag and the pair nail their patented Ugliness Remover, going for the cover! Asher gets up on the apron but he's a split second too late as they get the 1-2-3 and their first win as a tag team in the company!!
WINNER: THE PRETTY COMMITTEE
PRE-RECORDED VIGNETTE
Every light in the arena goes out as the screen above the entrance ramp comes to life. A message is written on the screen and that is the only thing that can be seen in the crowd.
"No matter how much she has been trampled or stomped upon, through all of the damage the rose will always continue to blossom…"
The screen flickers as it shows a picture of a rose sprouting up from some dirt. It slowly begins to grow as it just gets bigger and bigger.
"Nothing will ever stop the rose from blossoming and becoming something beautiful…"
The screen flickers once again and shifts to the view of a sunny day.
"The future has never been so bright. She will be making her return and when she does everybody will see she is no pushover. Get ready to feel her thorns like never before. Prepare to be caught in her limelight. The spotlight, HER SPOTLIGHT, will shine on through everything…"
We now see an image of a spotlight, followed by a Hollywood sign and, of course, that gorgeous rose in full bloom, ivory petals tipped in crimson that looks a bit like blood.
"Get ready because the spotlight will shine brightest on her. Lights, camera, and action… it's showtime!"
With that, the screen fades out to the words:
"COMING SOON."
Vines covered in thorns wrap themselves around the words as they morph from white to red, the meaning clear before the screen goes dark and the lights come back up.
"No matter how much she has been trampled or stomped upon, through all of the damage the rose will always continue to blossom…"
The screen flickers as it shows a picture of a rose sprouting up from some dirt. It slowly begins to grow as it just gets bigger and bigger.
"Nothing will ever stop the rose from blossoming and becoming something beautiful…"
The screen flickers once again and shifts to the view of a sunny day.
"The future has never been so bright. She will be making her return and when she does everybody will see she is no pushover. Get ready to feel her thorns like never before. Prepare to be caught in her limelight. The spotlight, HER SPOTLIGHT, will shine on through everything…"
We now see an image of a spotlight, followed by a Hollywood sign and, of course, that gorgeous rose in full bloom, ivory petals tipped in crimson that looks a bit like blood.
"Get ready because the spotlight will shine brightest on her. Lights, camera, and action… it's showtime!"
With that, the screen fades out to the words:
"COMING SOON."
Vines covered in thorns wrap themselves around the words as they morph from white to red, the meaning clear before the screen goes dark and the lights come back up.
FAYE LANGE & SUMMER VS WILDSIDE
Summer nails Seleana with a forearm to the chin as the bell rings. Looking to keep momentum, she lands several more and pushes Seleana to the ropes before laying in a few vicious chops. Zenna fires right back and then gets sent at the ropes again. On the rebound she deep armdrags Seleana to the mat only to have her pop right back up and get in Summer's face. She fires in a knee to the body that drives Summer back against the ropes before taking her over with a Samoan drop. Summer rolls up to her knees and right into a spinning wheel kick that knocks her back down to the mat. Kyle pounds on the turnbuckle, cheering Seleana on as she gets up to her feet and collides with Summer Mac again. This time the blue-haired brawler fires in some huge strikes, almost shifting momentum as she tries to force Seleana back towards Faye. Seleana whips Summer to the ropes and tries to clothesline her as she comes back; Summer ducks the clothesline and continues to the other ropes. She runs back at Seleana as she turns around and jumps at her with a cross body, driving her down to the canvas with a Thesz press before unloading a few huge blows that leave The Cat reeling.
Summer grabs Seleana's head and starts slamming it down into the mat repeatedly. Seleana eats up the punishment and then rolls over, pinning Summer under her. The Warrior Princess tries to slither away, straining for her corner but Seleana rolls her into a figure four leglock, keeping her just inches shy from Faye's outstretched hand as the crowd erupts in a wall of conflicted noise. Faye steps between the ropes, grabs Summer's hand and pulls her out of Seleana's grasp. The referee doesn't see it and the crowd noise is deafening as Summer reaches up and makes the tag to Faye once she's back on the outside of the ropes. Seleana doesn't bother to plead with the referee before locking up with Faye, hitting her with a knee to the stomach before she takes her over with a stalling backdrop. Faye rolls over and immediately tags out to Summer who dives between the ropes and hits Seleana with a rolling spear that she turns into a small package and an impressive 2.5! Seleana nails a back elbow to the face that gets Summer off her and she dives into her corner and tags out. Summer strains to reach her own corner, dazed and crumbles just as Zenna comes in looking for a kick! NO! IT'S A CLEAN TAG! Faye catches her leg and turns it into a dragon screw! The smaller Zdunich sister pops right back up and into a fresh assault of some stiff knife-edged chops that drives her back into the neutral corner. Zenna fires in a standing side kick and Faye dodges the worst of it, catches her opponent's head and drives Zenna down with a side headlock takedown! She springs off the ropes for knee to the back but Zenna dives into the corner and tags out to her sister who clearly is not ready to get back into the match. Faye grabs her the moment she steps between the ropes and doubles her over with a few hard strikes and a kick to the midsection. She gets Seleana up – MALESTROM! Summer dives between the ropes as Faye drops for the cover and she spears Zenna right off her feet! The leg's hooked. Her sister is down and it's a 1-2-3 for a surprising victory for the newly formed team!
WINNER: FAYE LANGE & SUMMER
Summer grabs Seleana's head and starts slamming it down into the mat repeatedly. Seleana eats up the punishment and then rolls over, pinning Summer under her. The Warrior Princess tries to slither away, straining for her corner but Seleana rolls her into a figure four leglock, keeping her just inches shy from Faye's outstretched hand as the crowd erupts in a wall of conflicted noise. Faye steps between the ropes, grabs Summer's hand and pulls her out of Seleana's grasp. The referee doesn't see it and the crowd noise is deafening as Summer reaches up and makes the tag to Faye once she's back on the outside of the ropes. Seleana doesn't bother to plead with the referee before locking up with Faye, hitting her with a knee to the stomach before she takes her over with a stalling backdrop. Faye rolls over and immediately tags out to Summer who dives between the ropes and hits Seleana with a rolling spear that she turns into a small package and an impressive 2.5! Seleana nails a back elbow to the face that gets Summer off her and she dives into her corner and tags out. Summer strains to reach her own corner, dazed and crumbles just as Zenna comes in looking for a kick! NO! IT'S A CLEAN TAG! Faye catches her leg and turns it into a dragon screw! The smaller Zdunich sister pops right back up and into a fresh assault of some stiff knife-edged chops that drives her back into the neutral corner. Zenna fires in a standing side kick and Faye dodges the worst of it, catches her opponent's head and drives Zenna down with a side headlock takedown! She springs off the ropes for knee to the back but Zenna dives into the corner and tags out to her sister who clearly is not ready to get back into the match. Faye grabs her the moment she steps between the ropes and doubles her over with a few hard strikes and a kick to the midsection. She gets Seleana up – MALESTROM! Summer dives between the ropes as Faye drops for the cover and she spears Zenna right off her feet! The leg's hooked. Her sister is down and it's a 1-2-3 for a surprising victory for the newly formed team!
WINNER: FAYE LANGE & SUMMER
BACKSTAGE
The head of talent relations and current GM Jackson is shown seated behind his desk, that usual pile of papers scattered haphazardly across the surface. His laptop is open and he seems to be studying it quite intently for a moment before he looks up, clearly aware of the camera that's trained on him.
Jackson: It was a tough choice, trying to squeeze all the eligible talent on this show, Forge. Not that I expect you to give two shits about that or any of the other things that grease the wrestling wheels. You care about action, about REaction and forward momentum. I dig it, man. I feel you. Sucks to feel like you've been passed over for a pretty face and a pair of great tits, doesn't it?
Pausing, the veteran sucks his teeth loudly for the moment before slowly shaking his head.
Jackson: I'll admit, I'm a little disappointed in that ending. If you'd stuck around tonight, I'd have put you into the next match. Changed things up on the fly. Kept it interesting. Guess we'll have to settle for the next best thing, won't we? I appreciate those who take initiative, as I'm sure you well know. I'm sick of the lazy assholes, the ones who coast week in and week out with minimal effort. Rebs says I can't fire them all at once. Says in this fucked up climate right now, that wouldn't be right. But sometimes, a little tough love is what's needed, am I right? A little fire lit under the right ass gets the job done.
He chuckles and then shrugs, firmly closing the screen of his laptop.
Jackson: So, thanks to your little rant... you're on my radar. To be fair, I was the one who decided to hire you in the first place. You know that, right? You remind me a lot of myself in a lot of ways, of what I might've been if I hadn't been such a miserable little rich boy cunt for the first 18 years of my life. That sense of entitlement, even when you don't have two pennies to rub together, never really leaves. Eventually, I found what I was looking for and there was never a damned handout for me for the entirety of my career. I like you. I admire your moxie. You want something to do? You got it, friend. You helped me past this stagnation and now I'm gonna give back because I'm such a man of the people.
The Dark Horse smirks.
Jackson: You paying attention, Forge? I've got my main event for the next show. Thanks for that. Next Fury Road, it'll be you and Jerry Watts, competing for the Hardcore Championship. Seeing those two magnificent beasts of yours gave me an idea, too. It won't just be for the championship. Nope. It'll be a DOG COLLAR MATCH.
The head of talent relations and current GM Jackson is shown seated behind his desk, that usual pile of papers scattered haphazardly across the surface. His laptop is open and he seems to be studying it quite intently for a moment before he looks up, clearly aware of the camera that's trained on him.
Jackson: It was a tough choice, trying to squeeze all the eligible talent on this show, Forge. Not that I expect you to give two shits about that or any of the other things that grease the wrestling wheels. You care about action, about REaction and forward momentum. I dig it, man. I feel you. Sucks to feel like you've been passed over for a pretty face and a pair of great tits, doesn't it?
Pausing, the veteran sucks his teeth loudly for the moment before slowly shaking his head.
Jackson: I'll admit, I'm a little disappointed in that ending. If you'd stuck around tonight, I'd have put you into the next match. Changed things up on the fly. Kept it interesting. Guess we'll have to settle for the next best thing, won't we? I appreciate those who take initiative, as I'm sure you well know. I'm sick of the lazy assholes, the ones who coast week in and week out with minimal effort. Rebs says I can't fire them all at once. Says in this fucked up climate right now, that wouldn't be right. But sometimes, a little tough love is what's needed, am I right? A little fire lit under the right ass gets the job done.
He chuckles and then shrugs, firmly closing the screen of his laptop.
Jackson: So, thanks to your little rant... you're on my radar. To be fair, I was the one who decided to hire you in the first place. You know that, right? You remind me a lot of myself in a lot of ways, of what I might've been if I hadn't been such a miserable little rich boy cunt for the first 18 years of my life. That sense of entitlement, even when you don't have two pennies to rub together, never really leaves. Eventually, I found what I was looking for and there was never a damned handout for me for the entirety of my career. I like you. I admire your moxie. You want something to do? You got it, friend. You helped me past this stagnation and now I'm gonna give back because I'm such a man of the people.
The Dark Horse smirks.
Jackson: You paying attention, Forge? I've got my main event for the next show. Thanks for that. Next Fury Road, it'll be you and Jerry Watts, competing for the Hardcore Championship. Seeing those two magnificent beasts of yours gave me an idea, too. It won't just be for the championship. Nope. It'll be a DOG COLLAR MATCH.
JERRY WATTS VS MAJA LINDSTRÖM
Before the bell can ring, Maja springboards off the bottom rope and nails Watts with a dropkick, driving him back into his corner. She kips back up to her feet, rolls her shoulders and grins to herself as claps her hands, waiting for Watts to get back up. He does and Maja wastes no time, circling Watts as they both look for an opening. Maja charges in, looking for a European uppercut but Watts catches her fist and sweeps her legs out from under her, laying in a few boots to the body before backing off and Maja Lindström is on her feet again in an instant. He comes at her with a telegraphed lariat and she drops, connecting with a diving shoulder to Jerry's knee. Watts goes down hard and before he can get out of the way, Maja springboards off the second rope with an elbow drop on the same knee. Backing off, she stays out of range of the Hardcore Champion's hands, letting him get to his feet only to dive in again. She takes him down with a Russian legsweep, and Watts catches a piece of the bottom turnbuckle with the back of his head. She rolls him over, locking him into the Swedish House Mafia but Watts drags her across the ring through sheer power and he manages to reach the ropes! Just as the hold is about to break, he snags her in a cobra clutch – BOOM REVERSAL! The cobra clutch driver buys him a little time and Watts grabs her by the head and scoops her up, leveling her with a backbreaker. Dropping for the pinfall, he smothers Maja, hooking the leg deep only for her to kick out at 2.5! Watts can't believe it and neither can the crowd!
Watts backs off, looking a little winded, but as Maja stumbles to her feet, he unloads with a kick to the midsection. Watts grabs Maja, hoisting her up, looking for an atomic drop, but Maja twists in the air, managing to turn it into Thunderstruck! She's fast to her feet, and immediately scoops Watts up, picking him up for a flawless snap suplex. Maja nudges Watts with her toe, pumping her fist in the air to huge pops from the crowd. A hand closes over her ankle, and Watts pulls her down, rolling her into a quick schoolboy. Before the referee can even start counting, Maja reverses the hold into a figure four leglock, only to be forced to break it as Watts's hand closes over the ropes again! Maja gets to her feet, right into a fresh assault at the hands of Watts who hits Maja with a few shots to the ribs, working her over. Maja manages to slip through his attempt to catch her for the Iconic Drop, slipping behind him for a thrust kick to the back of the knee. As he stumbles forward, off balance, she nails a springboard knee off the ropes and then hooks him in for In The Red! The crowd can't believe it as Watts goes down hard and she drops for the cover and the 1-2-3!! It's a huge upset win for Maja Lindström, and the first loss for Watts since entering the company. She's beside herself with joy as her hand is raised and Watts actually shakes her hand, congratulating her for a hard-fought contest.
WINNER: MAJA LINDSTRÖM
Watts backs off, looking a little winded, but as Maja stumbles to her feet, he unloads with a kick to the midsection. Watts grabs Maja, hoisting her up, looking for an atomic drop, but Maja twists in the air, managing to turn it into Thunderstruck! She's fast to her feet, and immediately scoops Watts up, picking him up for a flawless snap suplex. Maja nudges Watts with her toe, pumping her fist in the air to huge pops from the crowd. A hand closes over her ankle, and Watts pulls her down, rolling her into a quick schoolboy. Before the referee can even start counting, Maja reverses the hold into a figure four leglock, only to be forced to break it as Watts's hand closes over the ropes again! Maja gets to her feet, right into a fresh assault at the hands of Watts who hits Maja with a few shots to the ribs, working her over. Maja manages to slip through his attempt to catch her for the Iconic Drop, slipping behind him for a thrust kick to the back of the knee. As he stumbles forward, off balance, she nails a springboard knee off the ropes and then hooks him in for In The Red! The crowd can't believe it as Watts goes down hard and she drops for the cover and the 1-2-3!! It's a huge upset win for Maja Lindström, and the first loss for Watts since entering the company. She's beside herself with joy as her hand is raised and Watts actually shakes her hand, congratulating her for a hard-fought contest.
WINNER: MAJA LINDSTRÖM
PRE-RECORDED VIGNETTE
We see the words "Filmed Last Week", before we see CCM standing all alone in a dingy alley, looks like it's the back arse of some pub or some shit. The man who was recently fighting to become the King of the South is sitting on a trash can, or a BIN as we call them round these parts.
CCM: "Punk" Kate Steele... huh? "Poser" Kate Steele more like it.
He grins, shaking his head.
CCM: So while Ursula & Samantha twitter back and forth on social media about who wore the belt better and other such shit no-one gives a rat's left bollock about, people are probably wondering why I haven't been chiming in after Ursula won the championship. I mean... she did. She also got powerbombed by a geriatric, so there's that too. Look, titles are fine, but if you think I was banking my house on winning the gold, then you clearly haven't been listening to a bleeding word I say. I am not in this for fame. I am not in this for money. I am not in this for titles. I am in this, why? Wouldn't you like to know. Maybe you can figure it out, if you pay attention. Women rarely do though, so I'm not holding my breath.
He kicks at a piece of trash that fell out of the bin.
CCM: So Kate Steele. You see Kate Steele claims to be a "punk". Why? Fame, money and posing like a tard as far as I can see. Bitch, that’s not what punk is about. Not even a little shit. Hell, I'm here sitting on a bin and I'm more punk than you. Punk is about fucking the system, not taking shit lying down and kicking up a damn riot. You know who does that shit? I DO THAT SHIT. I don't need stupid hair dye or a crappy ass Fender to act like a rock star. You're not punk. Punks don't dye their hair and clothes and whine about shit. Punks change the world, they stand up for shit. They might even...
He jumps off the bin, before turning around and kicking it over with a crash.
CCM: Kick a bin. Why? Why the fuck not? The bin's part of the system. The council sends a bunch of grunts to clear them out. It's class system bullshit, mate. I'm sure you know all about the working class coming from WEST BLEEDING LONDON. Your house is probably worth more than the bin truck.
He sighs, looking down as a rat scurries in, poking through the trash looking for food.
CCM: There's that rat, looks like no-one gave away his left bollock though. Look, Kate, I'm a pretty chill guy in some regard, but get this... I fucking hate posers. You are a poser. Just like Tolson, just like UVR, you all fancy yourselves as big fucking stars, but the fact remains this... you don't know what it means to be punk. To do whatever it takes to get shit done, get shit changed. So grab your little glowsticks and ripped jeans and suit up for a fight bitch, coz I'm gonna teach you firsthand how to fight like you have a cause and a purpose. You pose, I'll break your nose.
He chuckles.
CCM: So you’d better ask yourself this question, "punk". Do you feel lucky?
On which note he kicks the bin again, before we cut back to ringside.
We see the words "Filmed Last Week", before we see CCM standing all alone in a dingy alley, looks like it's the back arse of some pub or some shit. The man who was recently fighting to become the King of the South is sitting on a trash can, or a BIN as we call them round these parts.
CCM: "Punk" Kate Steele... huh? "Poser" Kate Steele more like it.
He grins, shaking his head.
CCM: So while Ursula & Samantha twitter back and forth on social media about who wore the belt better and other such shit no-one gives a rat's left bollock about, people are probably wondering why I haven't been chiming in after Ursula won the championship. I mean... she did. She also got powerbombed by a geriatric, so there's that too. Look, titles are fine, but if you think I was banking my house on winning the gold, then you clearly haven't been listening to a bleeding word I say. I am not in this for fame. I am not in this for money. I am not in this for titles. I am in this, why? Wouldn't you like to know. Maybe you can figure it out, if you pay attention. Women rarely do though, so I'm not holding my breath.
He kicks at a piece of trash that fell out of the bin.
CCM: So Kate Steele. You see Kate Steele claims to be a "punk". Why? Fame, money and posing like a tard as far as I can see. Bitch, that’s not what punk is about. Not even a little shit. Hell, I'm here sitting on a bin and I'm more punk than you. Punk is about fucking the system, not taking shit lying down and kicking up a damn riot. You know who does that shit? I DO THAT SHIT. I don't need stupid hair dye or a crappy ass Fender to act like a rock star. You're not punk. Punks don't dye their hair and clothes and whine about shit. Punks change the world, they stand up for shit. They might even...
He jumps off the bin, before turning around and kicking it over with a crash.
CCM: Kick a bin. Why? Why the fuck not? The bin's part of the system. The council sends a bunch of grunts to clear them out. It's class system bullshit, mate. I'm sure you know all about the working class coming from WEST BLEEDING LONDON. Your house is probably worth more than the bin truck.
He sighs, looking down as a rat scurries in, poking through the trash looking for food.
CCM: There's that rat, looks like no-one gave away his left bollock though. Look, Kate, I'm a pretty chill guy in some regard, but get this... I fucking hate posers. You are a poser. Just like Tolson, just like UVR, you all fancy yourselves as big fucking stars, but the fact remains this... you don't know what it means to be punk. To do whatever it takes to get shit done, get shit changed. So grab your little glowsticks and ripped jeans and suit up for a fight bitch, coz I'm gonna teach you firsthand how to fight like you have a cause and a purpose. You pose, I'll break your nose.
He chuckles.
CCM: So you’d better ask yourself this question, "punk". Do you feel lucky?
On which note he kicks the bin again, before we cut back to ringside.
CCM VS KATE STEELE
CCM grabs Kate by the arm and spins her around before the music has even died down. She fights to break free but he flips her over and splatters her to the canvas with an overhead belly to belly suplex as the bell rings. Kate bounces back to her feet, holding her back in pain for a second before shaking it off. She turns around and right into a hard shoulder block that has her laid out on the canvas yet again. CCM gloats to the crowd before he smirks and lays the boots to Kate, the mudhole stomping quickly turning into a foot choke that earns him a warning from the referee. The Yorkshire Terror makes a huge show of backing off and it turns out to be a mistake as Kate takes the opportunity to ooze out of the ring where she collapses on the floor. CCM throws his arms out to his sides, basking in the booing of the crowd.
Kate drags herself up with the help of the ring apron and finally rolls back inside, shaking off. CCM immediately runs across with a corner clothesline that Kate barely avoids by diving out of the way. CCM catches a piece of the referee, accidentally spearing him into the ring post. The ref hits the mat like a ton of bricks and Kate manages to catch CCM with an eye rake, buying herself a little bit of a break from the assault. The Yorkshire Terror shakes it off and nails Kate with a hard Millariat that almost turns her inside out. Once again, Kate rolls out to the floor and this time CCM seizes the ropes, vaulting over and landing heavily with his feet first on Kate's chest. Roughly, he grabs the back of Kate's head; pulling her up before sending her face first into the ring post! She staggers back, right into the clutches of CCM and he hoists her up into a torture rack. She manages to break out and now she's like a spider monkey on his back, clawing and biting before CCM staggers towards the ring steps under her flailing weight. Kate dives and smashes his face off the unforgiving steel. She goes for a knee drop off the apron but CCM rolls aside at the last possible second and Kate stuns herself instead.
CCM grabs her and throws her over the ropes. He follows her inside and she tries to rise to the challenge but her knee won't take her weight. CCM nails a dropkick and Kate crumbles. He punts her in the face and then drops down to lock in his BTO. It looks like Kate might tap but she passes out instead. The referee calls for the bell but CCM refuses to break the hold for what seems like an eternity. He finally lets her limp body flop down and places his foot on Kate's shoulder, posing as he soaks up the thunderous booing of the crowd!
WINNER: CCM
Kate drags herself up with the help of the ring apron and finally rolls back inside, shaking off. CCM immediately runs across with a corner clothesline that Kate barely avoids by diving out of the way. CCM catches a piece of the referee, accidentally spearing him into the ring post. The ref hits the mat like a ton of bricks and Kate manages to catch CCM with an eye rake, buying herself a little bit of a break from the assault. The Yorkshire Terror shakes it off and nails Kate with a hard Millariat that almost turns her inside out. Once again, Kate rolls out to the floor and this time CCM seizes the ropes, vaulting over and landing heavily with his feet first on Kate's chest. Roughly, he grabs the back of Kate's head; pulling her up before sending her face first into the ring post! She staggers back, right into the clutches of CCM and he hoists her up into a torture rack. She manages to break out and now she's like a spider monkey on his back, clawing and biting before CCM staggers towards the ring steps under her flailing weight. Kate dives and smashes his face off the unforgiving steel. She goes for a knee drop off the apron but CCM rolls aside at the last possible second and Kate stuns herself instead.
CCM grabs her and throws her over the ropes. He follows her inside and she tries to rise to the challenge but her knee won't take her weight. CCM nails a dropkick and Kate crumbles. He punts her in the face and then drops down to lock in his BTO. It looks like Kate might tap but she passes out instead. The referee calls for the bell but CCM refuses to break the hold for what seems like an eternity. He finally lets her limp body flop down and places his foot on Kate's shoulder, posing as he soaks up the thunderous booing of the crowd!
WINNER: CCM
IN-RING SEGMENT
There is no burst of pyro or billowing of smoke that follows the roar of Rob Flynn, but instead the sad tune of a synthesized string instruments, which is then accompanied by drum beats leading straight into the opening chords of Sevendust’s "Unforgiven". Laser lights play about the stage as pyro explodes in large billowing columns. The growl and gravel of Lajon Witherspoon’s deep tones fills the ears of everyone listening as the arena lights dim to a low red and golden-orange hue.
Through the curtains steps the newly crowned Queen of the South, Ursula Von Rossbach, complete with a gleaming golden title resting upon her shoulder. She looks positively regal in an elegant, hand-stitched and custom tailored black suit. There is subtle leaf print on the jacket sleeves and outer thighs of the pants that matches the same pattern on her tie. As always black leather gloves adorn her hands and the chrome, mirrored sunglasses appeared to be engraved with circuit designs, adding an almost cyberpunk-esque motif to her appearance that is only further accentuated by her half shaven black hair that covers one half of her head.
With a commanding stride, she makes her way down the aisle. The ring steps meet her feet with soft thuds, her feet grace the apron with a modicum of wiping, and then with the downward force granted by the application of one hand, Ursula pushes the top rope down to throw her leg over the top and enter the ring as if she were a full foot taller than she actually is. One gloved hand slips beneath her dark hair to pull a small stem down towards her lips. The wire poking out from her collar gives away that she is wearing an ear mounted microphone, choosing to take a more hands free approach this night.
UVR: Good evening to all of you in attendance here at Brenau University as well as the millions watching at home through the conveyance of their choice.
She removes the sunglasses from her face, folding them neatly with one hand and then sliding them into the inner pocket of her suit jacket.
UVR: I stand before you tonight to not merely brag, but to make a declaration. My previous reign as “The” champion of this promotion was under a different banner, a history that has been swept under the rug, but only to a point. If we were to apply my view that my past reign with the formerly named Cosmic Championship where to count, then by all measure, Ms. Tolson would have been considered a two-time champion in Southern Rebellion Wrestling.
Her eyes survey the reactions from the crowd, some of them a bit shocked while others are uncertain.
UVR: We would both be two-time champions. In fact, this title has only seen three holders and they are the exact same women who held the prior championship. Where ire was drawn was not the fact that Samantha was first, but because of the fact that she did not deserve that championship to begin with, just as she did not deserve the title I hold here and now.
The Lady Terminator lowers her head and casts a sideways glance to the stage, then turns and starts to circle the ring with long legged and deliberate steps.
UVR: Samantha Tolson was given that title on Galactic Wrestling's final Pay Per View event under that insipid garbage scowl of a promoter that was Shelly Gonzolas, Exosphere. She was "gifted" the title, marking it as a consolation prize when she could not defeat Galactic Champion at the time.
The contempt that Ursula feels is palpable and thick, filling the air around her as she barely maintains that calm veneer.
UVR: This lead to Tolson having no respect for me or anyone else in the Galactic brand at that time. It would be her caustic, disruptive attitude that inevitably lead to her termination and the subsequent vacancy of the Cosmic Title that saw me facing and defeating Juliet Black, Bianca Davis-LeBlanc, Crystal Zdunich, and some random peon for my very first Championship ever, the predecessor to what would become The Queen of the South Championship.
She stops and raises her championship high in the air, head lowered as if in reverence and respect.
UVR: May you never see it's counterpart for this title?
Her head lifts and she casts an intense stare upon the crowd.
UVR: This title shall never leave my shoulder again and not because I waited for challengers to be appointed but because I shall endeavor to make this run with the title belt the most memorable and longest reign in the history of this company. If I wasn't allowed to beat Zoey Madigan-Star for the title, then I shall beat the length of her reign. That is the goal I have set for myself.
Lowering the belt back down on her shoulder, she sweeps her had to the entrance arch without even looking towards it.
UVR: You see, for I was never given a championship like Ms. Tolson. I EARNED THIS! And if anyone is to remove it from my possession.
Once more she gives the entrance arch the side-eye.
UVR: You will EARN THE PRIVILEGE FIRST. Either by defeating me in direct combat or facing every contender on the roster that stands in your way. Choose your path, but remember that you enter my Kingdom at your own risk.
Ursula turns off her microphone and her music plays once more. Up in the air she hoists that title, her breathing even and calm despite the absolute intensity of the expression on her face.
#HEAR ME NNNNNOOOOOOOOWW!!!!
There is no burst of pyro or billowing of smoke that follows the roar of Rob Flynn, but instead the sad tune of a synthesized string instruments, which is then accompanied by drum beats leading straight into the opening chords of Sevendust’s "Unforgiven". Laser lights play about the stage as pyro explodes in large billowing columns. The growl and gravel of Lajon Witherspoon’s deep tones fills the ears of everyone listening as the arena lights dim to a low red and golden-orange hue.
"WHAT’S INSIDE OF THE BEAST?"
"TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED, TO START YOUR OWN EXECUTION!"
"TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED, TO START YOUR OWN EXECUTION!"
Through the curtains steps the newly crowned Queen of the South, Ursula Von Rossbach, complete with a gleaming golden title resting upon her shoulder. She looks positively regal in an elegant, hand-stitched and custom tailored black suit. There is subtle leaf print on the jacket sleeves and outer thighs of the pants that matches the same pattern on her tie. As always black leather gloves adorn her hands and the chrome, mirrored sunglasses appeared to be engraved with circuit designs, adding an almost cyberpunk-esque motif to her appearance that is only further accentuated by her half shaven black hair that covers one half of her head.
With a commanding stride, she makes her way down the aisle. The ring steps meet her feet with soft thuds, her feet grace the apron with a modicum of wiping, and then with the downward force granted by the application of one hand, Ursula pushes the top rope down to throw her leg over the top and enter the ring as if she were a full foot taller than she actually is. One gloved hand slips beneath her dark hair to pull a small stem down towards her lips. The wire poking out from her collar gives away that she is wearing an ear mounted microphone, choosing to take a more hands free approach this night.
UVR: Good evening to all of you in attendance here at Brenau University as well as the millions watching at home through the conveyance of their choice.
She removes the sunglasses from her face, folding them neatly with one hand and then sliding them into the inner pocket of her suit jacket.
UVR: I stand before you tonight to not merely brag, but to make a declaration. My previous reign as “The” champion of this promotion was under a different banner, a history that has been swept under the rug, but only to a point. If we were to apply my view that my past reign with the formerly named Cosmic Championship where to count, then by all measure, Ms. Tolson would have been considered a two-time champion in Southern Rebellion Wrestling.
Her eyes survey the reactions from the crowd, some of them a bit shocked while others are uncertain.
UVR: We would both be two-time champions. In fact, this title has only seen three holders and they are the exact same women who held the prior championship. Where ire was drawn was not the fact that Samantha was first, but because of the fact that she did not deserve that championship to begin with, just as she did not deserve the title I hold here and now.
The Lady Terminator lowers her head and casts a sideways glance to the stage, then turns and starts to circle the ring with long legged and deliberate steps.
UVR: Samantha Tolson was given that title on Galactic Wrestling's final Pay Per View event under that insipid garbage scowl of a promoter that was Shelly Gonzolas, Exosphere. She was "gifted" the title, marking it as a consolation prize when she could not defeat Galactic Champion at the time.
The contempt that Ursula feels is palpable and thick, filling the air around her as she barely maintains that calm veneer.
UVR: This lead to Tolson having no respect for me or anyone else in the Galactic brand at that time. It would be her caustic, disruptive attitude that inevitably lead to her termination and the subsequent vacancy of the Cosmic Title that saw me facing and defeating Juliet Black, Bianca Davis-LeBlanc, Crystal Zdunich, and some random peon for my very first Championship ever, the predecessor to what would become The Queen of the South Championship.
She stops and raises her championship high in the air, head lowered as if in reverence and respect.
UVR: May you never see it's counterpart for this title?
Her head lifts and she casts an intense stare upon the crowd.
UVR: This title shall never leave my shoulder again and not because I waited for challengers to be appointed but because I shall endeavor to make this run with the title belt the most memorable and longest reign in the history of this company. If I wasn't allowed to beat Zoey Madigan-Star for the title, then I shall beat the length of her reign. That is the goal I have set for myself.
Lowering the belt back down on her shoulder, she sweeps her had to the entrance arch without even looking towards it.
UVR: You see, for I was never given a championship like Ms. Tolson. I EARNED THIS! And if anyone is to remove it from my possession.
Once more she gives the entrance arch the side-eye.
UVR: You will EARN THE PRIVILEGE FIRST. Either by defeating me in direct combat or facing every contender on the roster that stands in your way. Choose your path, but remember that you enter my Kingdom at your own risk.
Ursula turns off her microphone and her music plays once more. Up in the air she hoists that title, her breathing even and calm despite the absolute intensity of the expression on her face.
PRE-RECORDED VIGNETTE
We are treated to a familiar sight: The Conquest Champion Luther Thunder with the championship laid over his shoulder and his beloved wife Esme Thunder by his side. They are there dressed to the nines and all smiles as the champion speaks up to the camera.
Luther: God it feels GREAT to get back to the shape of things. I mean as much as it may surprise you all, I must admit I have kinda missed Southern Rebellion Wrestling even if it has been just a little..not even close as much as all of you, my devoted and loyal fans have missed me of course. I know you have been praying and pleading for the time when I’d grace the SRW ring with my presence as YOUR Conquest champion again, well pray no more brothers and sisters because I am here again and tonight, oh boy is tonight going to be something of a change.
He smirks, looking at the title which his wife seemed to shine up nicely for him before going on.
Luther: You see, the last time when I competed for this company it was in one certainly most brutal matches I have ever been part of in my career and something I would not wish upon anyone, of course you all know what I’m talking about: the Emerald Death House Match against Juliet Motherfrickin' Black. If you are faint of heart or squeamish for blood, I would encourage you NOT to look up that match, and those of you with the blessed little ones, keep the children away from it because it’s far from the usual wholesome and for all family type matches I usually have..no need to worry though as you can see I am still here, still YOUR Conquest Champion and that’s all you really need to know going into tonight’s match because not only is the match tonight something more of a traditional match and my opponent Chris Styles is something a little more traditional than Juliet Black for sure.
Esme smiles at the camera.
Esme: Traditional indeed, bordering on generic, if you don’t mind me saying. We’ve somehow gone directly from someone who is a cartoon villain to someone who is a wrestling caricature. I’m not much of a fan of either of the Styles brothers, but at least Jesse has a bit about him. A bit of snark, a bit of... personality. Chris seems like he took the first lesson of promo class, and was like... "aight, I’m out". I think that’s what the young persons refer to as a "meme".
She chuckles.
Esme: He’s a great example of how being bland and nice in this business gets you precisely nowhere. For all his talk of winning titles, he wins no titles. He barely wins matches. Heck, his last opportunity in a big match, he and his brother lost a championship chance to a near forty year old woman-child freak and a southern ghetto stereotype. And he thinks he can mix it with Luther? Please.
Her husband arches a brow, lowering his voice.
Luther: ...can you, actually say that?
She slaps his chest.
Esme: What?! I’m no Crystal Hilton, I didn’t say-
Luther: Yup, let’s keep it that way.
He smiles as she snuggles up nice and close to him and he goes on.
Luther: Please forgive my wife, Christopher. She is one of those people who says what’s on her mind and sometimes, people tend to take her words to heart and see it as something way more personal than it needs to be. Look I got nothing against you as a person, I’ve been in this business for a good 13 years now and it frankly is like a lifetime in the ring. So many things have changed since 2007 and whether it is for the better or worse is up to anyone to decide. I have to admit though that you, the way you conduct yourself brings in a breath of, shall I say nostalgia to the industry that seems to be all about insults, barbs and burns I believe the kids call them these days. You haven’t gone out of your way to try and bury me, to insult or threaten me and since that is what over 90% of my opponents have done as long as I’ve been a wrestler. I commend you for it: well done Chris, I HAVE TO respect that.
He applauds to the camera while Esme does more of a mocking slow-clap before Luther goes on.
Luther: However as far as you go. I don’t know you, There is a laundry list of people that I have faced so many times that if we would go blind and deaf we could probably still put on a decent match because we know each other that well. People I may not have loved or even liked but I had no choice but to respect them and their accomplishments. Don’t take this personally Christopher but... I don’t respect you. I don’t hate you, I don’t want to kill you or end your career either... nothing like that but when it comes to me. My respect if you want it, you have to work for it, earn it. It may take some time and it may seem like you will never achieve it but those who do get it and have gotten it in the past had some legendary, unforgettable, phenomenal matches with me because of it. People say a lot of things about me Chris, most of it not good but even the ones who hated me, who wanted me buried in the ground or at least out of this business... even they had to admit that I am a great wrestler. Can you say that, Chris? Can you honestly say that you have made that kind of an impact on anyone?
He takes a moment as if to wait for an answer before speaking again.
Luther: I’ve seen what you do, man. You are great at it, like a living, breathing hype machine, the wrestling hulk. A true embodiment and epitome of dedication and determination. A loving guy who is not afraid to show his emotions in public, be it towards his girlfriend or his opponents in the modern social media oriented climate. That is a brave move Christopher. You put yourself out there for the whole world, expose all of your inner most thoughts and fears too, it can be very inspirational to those who follow you, the people who cheer you on and praise you even when you fall, they will be there to pick you up and that isn’t because those are nice people Christopher, nope. It’s because of you. YOU have made it so real for all of them that they believe in you, maybe even more than you believe in yourself.
Both of the Thunders nod in unison, as if in non-verbal agreement to the statement.
Luther: You do realize that there is a flip-side to all this too, right? For every lighter view there is always a darker counterpart and being this open, as honest as you are of your ups and downs opens you up to those who do not believe in you, to those who don’t like you or anything you do, be it your posts your matches or just the look of your face. Sure, such is the way of the world nobody can please everyone and there will always be those who doubt, criticize and mock you who revel in your failures and I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that, heck. You have probably experienced enough of that kind of feedback too to know EXACTLY what I am talking about. If you know all this already, then why pray tell am I laying it all out here for you... that must be what you are wondering, right?
His smile is wiped off in an instant and we see a more of a serious look on Luther’s face.
Luther: It’s just so you know that what I am saying next is not born out of hatred, jealousy or some petty excuse towards you. I’ve seen so many of those messages of yours when you go into a match talking about how it’s time for you to make a "statement" or an "impact" in whatever organization you are competing at, alone or with your brother you just won’t stop talking about the statement you are going to make, the gold and matches that you will win... will you? Well let me tell you something Chris, this match between us tonight at Fury Road. You know, the match you are having right off the heels of your big match over there in Edmonton where you were set to make another impression. Yeah, I saw it and you did good, you wrestled the best you could and you didn’t win, so what? Wins and losses are part of the business and everyone loses sometimes. I’ve done it before and might do it again, however... I am not doing it tonight.
He steps closer to the camera, raising his voice.
Luther: You hear me, Chris? I AM NOT LOSING THIS MATCH OF OURS TO YOU TONIGHT. I don’t care if you need a rebound to bounce back from down in the dumps you dropped after your loss. I won’t be your stepping stone. I am not your launchpad to stardom and if you think you are going to beat that victory out of me, that all the determination and dedication and feel good moment of a message you may dig up will get you that win, look no further than my last match in SRW. Juliet Black damn near killed me in that match, she did all she could to hurt me and probably wouldn’t have even blinked if she had maimed me or injured me for life... she enjoyed every last moment of that match, doing all she could to hurt me some in ways only us men know just how dearly it can hurt... yet she did not walk out with a win. After all the weapons and objects of destruction at her disposal, her own tailormade match for mayhem and she didn’t get a win over me, do you understand what that means for you, Chris? Yeah you can say that I didn’t beat her either, that there was not a decisive winner and that I may have taken years away of my career just with that one match and for what? I did it though and you know what I didn’t do, Chris? Lose.
Esme puts a hand on him, pulling Luther back just a bit, calming him before he speaks up again, this time with more of a normal voice.
Luther: Do not overlook me, Chris Styles; take me seriously and understand just what you are up against tonight. I didn’t come into SRW yelling for title shots or go on campaigns about how I’m gonna do this or that. I came in and got things done. Just a few matches in I achieved this...
He holds up his Conquest championship.
Luther: Wouldn’t you just love some of this too, Chris? Championship gold, huh? Well if you manage to hold your own with me tonight, if you respect the HUGE chance the monumental opportunity you have in this match and do more than talk about being better, if you actually send that message through me and our match to the higher ups, maybe, and just maybe you could get yourself a shot at this in the future and who knows, maybe then you would have something to truly be excited about, something to put all that effort and never say die attitude of yours in... and who knows, should you get that far and win? Maybe you would have something worth tweeting about, more than statements and claims... something tangible and worth a damn. Remember what I told you tonight Chris, and remember what I said earlier about respect, hate and this match of ours... remember it well and deliver tonight and maybe we’ll see again. I’ll see you out there and you better be ready to steal the whole damn show.
He walks off and we see Esme beaming with pride as she points to the camera mouthing out: "now THAT is a statement," before walking off and we fade to black.
Luther: God it feels GREAT to get back to the shape of things. I mean as much as it may surprise you all, I must admit I have kinda missed Southern Rebellion Wrestling even if it has been just a little..not even close as much as all of you, my devoted and loyal fans have missed me of course. I know you have been praying and pleading for the time when I’d grace the SRW ring with my presence as YOUR Conquest champion again, well pray no more brothers and sisters because I am here again and tonight, oh boy is tonight going to be something of a change.
He smirks, looking at the title which his wife seemed to shine up nicely for him before going on.
Luther: You see, the last time when I competed for this company it was in one certainly most brutal matches I have ever been part of in my career and something I would not wish upon anyone, of course you all know what I’m talking about: the Emerald Death House Match against Juliet Motherfrickin' Black. If you are faint of heart or squeamish for blood, I would encourage you NOT to look up that match, and those of you with the blessed little ones, keep the children away from it because it’s far from the usual wholesome and for all family type matches I usually have..no need to worry though as you can see I am still here, still YOUR Conquest Champion and that’s all you really need to know going into tonight’s match because not only is the match tonight something more of a traditional match and my opponent Chris Styles is something a little more traditional than Juliet Black for sure.
Esme smiles at the camera.
Esme: Traditional indeed, bordering on generic, if you don’t mind me saying. We’ve somehow gone directly from someone who is a cartoon villain to someone who is a wrestling caricature. I’m not much of a fan of either of the Styles brothers, but at least Jesse has a bit about him. A bit of snark, a bit of... personality. Chris seems like he took the first lesson of promo class, and was like... "aight, I’m out". I think that’s what the young persons refer to as a "meme".
She chuckles.
Esme: He’s a great example of how being bland and nice in this business gets you precisely nowhere. For all his talk of winning titles, he wins no titles. He barely wins matches. Heck, his last opportunity in a big match, he and his brother lost a championship chance to a near forty year old woman-child freak and a southern ghetto stereotype. And he thinks he can mix it with Luther? Please.
Her husband arches a brow, lowering his voice.
Luther: ...can you, actually say that?
She slaps his chest.
Esme: What?! I’m no Crystal Hilton, I didn’t say-
Luther: Yup, let’s keep it that way.
He smiles as she snuggles up nice and close to him and he goes on.
Luther: Please forgive my wife, Christopher. She is one of those people who says what’s on her mind and sometimes, people tend to take her words to heart and see it as something way more personal than it needs to be. Look I got nothing against you as a person, I’ve been in this business for a good 13 years now and it frankly is like a lifetime in the ring. So many things have changed since 2007 and whether it is for the better or worse is up to anyone to decide. I have to admit though that you, the way you conduct yourself brings in a breath of, shall I say nostalgia to the industry that seems to be all about insults, barbs and burns I believe the kids call them these days. You haven’t gone out of your way to try and bury me, to insult or threaten me and since that is what over 90% of my opponents have done as long as I’ve been a wrestler. I commend you for it: well done Chris, I HAVE TO respect that.
He applauds to the camera while Esme does more of a mocking slow-clap before Luther goes on.
Luther: However as far as you go. I don’t know you, There is a laundry list of people that I have faced so many times that if we would go blind and deaf we could probably still put on a decent match because we know each other that well. People I may not have loved or even liked but I had no choice but to respect them and their accomplishments. Don’t take this personally Christopher but... I don’t respect you. I don’t hate you, I don’t want to kill you or end your career either... nothing like that but when it comes to me. My respect if you want it, you have to work for it, earn it. It may take some time and it may seem like you will never achieve it but those who do get it and have gotten it in the past had some legendary, unforgettable, phenomenal matches with me because of it. People say a lot of things about me Chris, most of it not good but even the ones who hated me, who wanted me buried in the ground or at least out of this business... even they had to admit that I am a great wrestler. Can you say that, Chris? Can you honestly say that you have made that kind of an impact on anyone?
He takes a moment as if to wait for an answer before speaking again.
Luther: I’ve seen what you do, man. You are great at it, like a living, breathing hype machine, the wrestling hulk. A true embodiment and epitome of dedication and determination. A loving guy who is not afraid to show his emotions in public, be it towards his girlfriend or his opponents in the modern social media oriented climate. That is a brave move Christopher. You put yourself out there for the whole world, expose all of your inner most thoughts and fears too, it can be very inspirational to those who follow you, the people who cheer you on and praise you even when you fall, they will be there to pick you up and that isn’t because those are nice people Christopher, nope. It’s because of you. YOU have made it so real for all of them that they believe in you, maybe even more than you believe in yourself.
Both of the Thunders nod in unison, as if in non-verbal agreement to the statement.
Luther: You do realize that there is a flip-side to all this too, right? For every lighter view there is always a darker counterpart and being this open, as honest as you are of your ups and downs opens you up to those who do not believe in you, to those who don’t like you or anything you do, be it your posts your matches or just the look of your face. Sure, such is the way of the world nobody can please everyone and there will always be those who doubt, criticize and mock you who revel in your failures and I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that, heck. You have probably experienced enough of that kind of feedback too to know EXACTLY what I am talking about. If you know all this already, then why pray tell am I laying it all out here for you... that must be what you are wondering, right?
His smile is wiped off in an instant and we see a more of a serious look on Luther’s face.
Luther: It’s just so you know that what I am saying next is not born out of hatred, jealousy or some petty excuse towards you. I’ve seen so many of those messages of yours when you go into a match talking about how it’s time for you to make a "statement" or an "impact" in whatever organization you are competing at, alone or with your brother you just won’t stop talking about the statement you are going to make, the gold and matches that you will win... will you? Well let me tell you something Chris, this match between us tonight at Fury Road. You know, the match you are having right off the heels of your big match over there in Edmonton where you were set to make another impression. Yeah, I saw it and you did good, you wrestled the best you could and you didn’t win, so what? Wins and losses are part of the business and everyone loses sometimes. I’ve done it before and might do it again, however... I am not doing it tonight.
He steps closer to the camera, raising his voice.
Luther: You hear me, Chris? I AM NOT LOSING THIS MATCH OF OURS TO YOU TONIGHT. I don’t care if you need a rebound to bounce back from down in the dumps you dropped after your loss. I won’t be your stepping stone. I am not your launchpad to stardom and if you think you are going to beat that victory out of me, that all the determination and dedication and feel good moment of a message you may dig up will get you that win, look no further than my last match in SRW. Juliet Black damn near killed me in that match, she did all she could to hurt me and probably wouldn’t have even blinked if she had maimed me or injured me for life... she enjoyed every last moment of that match, doing all she could to hurt me some in ways only us men know just how dearly it can hurt... yet she did not walk out with a win. After all the weapons and objects of destruction at her disposal, her own tailormade match for mayhem and she didn’t get a win over me, do you understand what that means for you, Chris? Yeah you can say that I didn’t beat her either, that there was not a decisive winner and that I may have taken years away of my career just with that one match and for what? I did it though and you know what I didn’t do, Chris? Lose.
Esme puts a hand on him, pulling Luther back just a bit, calming him before he speaks up again, this time with more of a normal voice.
Luther: Do not overlook me, Chris Styles; take me seriously and understand just what you are up against tonight. I didn’t come into SRW yelling for title shots or go on campaigns about how I’m gonna do this or that. I came in and got things done. Just a few matches in I achieved this...
He holds up his Conquest championship.
Luther: Wouldn’t you just love some of this too, Chris? Championship gold, huh? Well if you manage to hold your own with me tonight, if you respect the HUGE chance the monumental opportunity you have in this match and do more than talk about being better, if you actually send that message through me and our match to the higher ups, maybe, and just maybe you could get yourself a shot at this in the future and who knows, maybe then you would have something to truly be excited about, something to put all that effort and never say die attitude of yours in... and who knows, should you get that far and win? Maybe you would have something worth tweeting about, more than statements and claims... something tangible and worth a damn. Remember what I told you tonight Chris, and remember what I said earlier about respect, hate and this match of ours... remember it well and deliver tonight and maybe we’ll see again. I’ll see you out there and you better be ready to steal the whole damn show.
He walks off and we see Esme beaming with pride as she points to the camera mouthing out: "now THAT is a statement," before walking off and we fade to black.
MAIN EVENT
NON-TITLE MATCH
LUTHER THUNDER VS CHRIS STYLES
NON-TITLE MATCH
LUTHER THUNDER VS CHRIS STYLES
As soon as the bell sounds, Luther dives in with some strikes before Styles gets the early advantage by waffling him with a hard forearm to the face that drives Luther back into the corner. Styles follows up with some stiff strikes before Luther retaliates with a hip toss, driving an elbow into his face before rolling away. Back on their feet, the two collide again with another collar and elbow tie up before Luther throws a huge uppercut that staggers Styles. The two start brawling again as the crowd goes insane. Styles takes control with a knee to the face and a stiff short-armed clothesline. He drops a knee on Luther's midsection, looking for another only to have Jax roll out to the floor. Styles beckons for Luther to return, getting a huge pop from the crowd before Luther hops back up on the apron. Styles gives him space to get back inside before they collide again. This time Styles shoots Luther into the ropes, catching him with a running knee lift on the rebound. Luther goes down hard and Styles dives on him, pummeling him with strikes from a Thesz press while the crowd erupts.
Back up feet, Luther grinds a reverse front facelock before transitioning to a half cobra clutch, raking a forearm across the face of Styles – he knees Luther in the head for a break and shifts the tides again with a headbutt to the sternum that takes the wind out of Luther's sails. Hoisting him up, Styles tosses Luther to the corner and follows him in for a hard splash. Esme is pounding on the apron, screaming her husband's name as he fires back with a back elbow, getting enough space to get away from the corner. Styles whirls and smashes Luther in the back of the head with a Styles Smash that takes him down and he immediately follows it with a mudhole stomping, working on further damaging Luther's arm before locking in a crossface – NOPE! Luther knees his way free. Styles tries an up and over but Luther anticipates it and dropkicks Chris down, immediately dropping for a pin as he grinds the forearm in for a cheap choke and the first near fall before Styles kicks out!
Chris takes over with a BRUTAL forearm to the face, going back into working on the shoulder as Luther strains to break out, finally catching the rope. Styles goes for another submission only to have Esme grab Luther's foot and places it on the rope, yelling for the official. Luther gets the break he needs to shift the tide back in his favor. Staying on the mat, Luther reverses the momentum and gets a half nelson locked in, choking Styles. The referee tries to stop it but Luther argues, all the while choking Chris with his legs before finally breaking off when the referee threatens to kick him out of the match for all the rule breaking that's going on. Styles looks ragged as they're back up and Luther catches another telegraphed lariat attempt, absorbing the impact and catching Styles to take him down with a ring-shaking side slam. He doesn't even wait for Styles to get back up, instead grabbing him and putting him in position between his knees before hoisting him up – SWORD OF DAMOCLES!! He floats over for the pin, hooking the leg high and using the ropes for leverage for the 1-2-3 but the referee sees that blatant cheating a split second after his hand connects with the canvas and instead he calls off the match, disqualifying Luther.
WINNER: NO CONTEST
Back up feet, Luther grinds a reverse front facelock before transitioning to a half cobra clutch, raking a forearm across the face of Styles – he knees Luther in the head for a break and shifts the tides again with a headbutt to the sternum that takes the wind out of Luther's sails. Hoisting him up, Styles tosses Luther to the corner and follows him in for a hard splash. Esme is pounding on the apron, screaming her husband's name as he fires back with a back elbow, getting enough space to get away from the corner. Styles whirls and smashes Luther in the back of the head with a Styles Smash that takes him down and he immediately follows it with a mudhole stomping, working on further damaging Luther's arm before locking in a crossface – NOPE! Luther knees his way free. Styles tries an up and over but Luther anticipates it and dropkicks Chris down, immediately dropping for a pin as he grinds the forearm in for a cheap choke and the first near fall before Styles kicks out!
Chris takes over with a BRUTAL forearm to the face, going back into working on the shoulder as Luther strains to break out, finally catching the rope. Styles goes for another submission only to have Esme grab Luther's foot and places it on the rope, yelling for the official. Luther gets the break he needs to shift the tide back in his favor. Staying on the mat, Luther reverses the momentum and gets a half nelson locked in, choking Styles. The referee tries to stop it but Luther argues, all the while choking Chris with his legs before finally breaking off when the referee threatens to kick him out of the match for all the rule breaking that's going on. Styles looks ragged as they're back up and Luther catches another telegraphed lariat attempt, absorbing the impact and catching Styles to take him down with a ring-shaking side slam. He doesn't even wait for Styles to get back up, instead grabbing him and putting him in position between his knees before hoisting him up – SWORD OF DAMOCLES!! He floats over for the pin, hooking the leg high and using the ropes for leverage for the 1-2-3 but the referee sees that blatant cheating a split second after his hand connects with the canvas and instead he calls off the match, disqualifying Luther.
WINNER: NO CONTEST