Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2020 15:18:21 GMT -7
FURY ROAD #8
10/23/2020
SWA BOONDOCKS ARENA
Eastanollee, GA
IN THE PARKING LOT
FORGE MITCHELL
FORGE MITCHELL
Earlier tonight…
For some reason, a camera is waiting near the rear entrance to the arena. Within its range are a pair of security guards, one of which should be fairly familiar to Fury Road fans as he had an intense altercation at the last show. Both guards are standing fairly lax at the moment, but that changes when a roar is heard in the distance; the low, mechanical rumble of a vehicle. A Harley-Davidson, to be precise. The model is hard to discern for all the customization done to it, but that Screamin’ Eagle 131 Crate Engine is clear… from the sound if not the strength it exudes.
One of the guards looks on in awe. The other starts shaking a little bit. The familiar one. He seems to know what’s coming before it gets there. And sure enough, the form on that back of that beast of a bike is Trenton ‘Forge’ Mitchell, rolling up to Fury Road for his Dog Collar Match for the Hardcore Championship against the champion, Jerry Watts. Roaring to a halt in front of the door, Forge doffs his skullcap-style helmet and hangs it from the handlebars before swinging out the kickstand with his heel and rising to his full six-and-a-half feet. Immediately he locks in on the familiar security guard through his shades.
Forge Mitchell: Look who it is. Still trolling around huh, kid?
Familiar Security: Uh, yeah?
Unknown Security: You, uh, know this guy?
Locking in on the new guy, Forge takes off his shades and slips them into the pocket of his plain white tee, worn beneath the Chrome Dragons kutte that hangs comfortably loose against his massive frame. The insignia and banners dominate the back while several patches are lined up at breast-level, not the least of which is the one that reads ‘President’.
Forge Mitchell: More fuckin’ fresh fish? Just stand back and keep your mouth shut, kid. Safer for you.
Before the other guard can so much as splutter a reply, Forge turns back to his ‘old friend’.
Forge Mitchell: What’s your name?
Familiar Security: Reece, sir.
Forge Mitchell: Fuck the sir, shit. You see this ride here, Reece?
Unsure of how to answer, Reece comes forward a little and looks, then returns his attention to Forge and nods.
Forge Mitchell: It’s worth more than either of you make in a year telling people that they can’t park here.
When he says this, he fixes a stare on the other guard, as if daring him to retort. The unknown guard swallows a lump the size of a baseball and keeps his trap shut. Forge, smirking ever so slightly, turns back to Reece. Taking off one of his custom leather gloves, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a few folded bills. Walking over to Reece, he puts them in the kid’s shirt pocket and jerks a thumb in the direction of the custom Harley… with its metallic dragon artwork and chrome job.
Forge Mitchell: You got a new job tonight, Reece: watch this bike and make sure no one comes near it. Think you can handle that?
His hand slowly reaches for his pocket, but Forge grabs him by the wrist and shakes his head. Reece nods and the biker lets go.
Reece: Yes, si-... Forge.
Forge Mitchell: Good. Knew there was a reason I didn’t stomp your ass last time.
He starts to enter the building after unstrapping his bag from the back of the bike, but the Martyr Machine stops at the door, feeling the other guard staring at him. His hand tightens upon the metal handle before he turns a glare on the kid.
Forge Mitchell: Stop eyeballing me before I give you a preview of what’s happening to that little bitch Jerry Watts later tonight, boy.
Blanching a whiter shade of pale, the other guard backs up a few steps.
Forge Mitchell: You want something to stare at? Help Reece here keep an eye on my ride. Maybe if he tells me you were worth a damn at that, I might have something for you after the show. Till then… fuck off.
Yanking the door open, Forge enters and lets the door close behind him loudly. The other guard looks at Reece, who stares at the bike while patting his shirt pocket. But he cannot bring himself to check how much is in there. Instead, he turns to the other guard.
Reece: Let’s just do as he says.
As the other guard has no response to this, he nods and their job changes from guarding the door to guarding an impressive ride.
BACKSTAGE
KATIE CHAOS
KATIE CHAOS
Freelance interviewer, Pam, graces us with her presence when we cut backstage.
Pam D'monium: SRW please welcome our newest addition. Chaos is her middle name and she is sure to bring chaos to the ring in her debut match tonight against Chelsea Winston, which is just a few seconds away to open our show!
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos walks in from off camera. The crowd has no reaction to her. She has a blank look.
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: My middle name is Michelle actually.
Katie looks indifferent. Her voice is monotone and boring.
Pam D'Monium: Good to know. You're about to step through that curtain for your first match in SRW. What do you think of Chelsea? Will she be a tough task tonight you think?
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Yes.
Pam D'Monium: Impressed with the other talent too thus far?
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Yes.
Pam leaves the microphone to Katie's lips thinking she will elaborate. Katie doesn't. Awkward silence.
Pam D'Monium: Ok? Well how has Georgia been for you? Do anything today out here in Bulldog territory?
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: I visited the Museum. I indulged in the buffet at Lou Malnati's Pizzeria. I saw a play at the Georgia Ensemble Theater Center. I finished the audio book I've been listening to.
Pam D'Monium: Sounds like you had a good day then.
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: It was very chaotic.
Pam seems kinda confused.
Pam D'Monium: How?
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Because chaos is in my nature.
Pam D'Monium: What makes you so chaotic?
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Three reasons. Me. Myself. I.
The interviewer leaves the mic to Katie's lips longer again to guide her into giving fans more from her but Katie is indifferent. Awkward silence.
Pam D'Monium: All right? Well you finished your audio book so that is one less thing to make you chaotic today.
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: It was a good book. I will bring it by to you next week if you like books.
Pam D'Monium: I would never pass on a good book.
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Good. I will bring it by then.
Pam D'Monium: Ok? It was a pleasure interviewing you Chaotic "Katie" Chaos but now it is time to go to ringside for your match.
Chaotic "Katie" Chaos: Thank you for interviewing me. I'm sorry things got chaotic for a moment there. I will attempt to make our next interview calmer.
Pam looks confused again and nods slowly. Katie looks indifferent.
Pam D'monium: No problem, Katie. Good luck out there.
CHELSEA WINSTON VS CHAOTIC "KATIE" CHAOS
It looks like Katie Chaos is in for a world of hurt in the opening moments of the match. Winston folds Chaos up with a running knee lift and then rolls her into an abdominal stretch only to have Chaos block the brutal clubbing strikes that follow. Winston torques the hold before releasing it in disgust because Chaos refuses to give up! The Outback Queen scoops Katie Chaos up, looking for a sit out powerbomb in an attempt to end the match early but Chaos rolls through and kicks Winston in the guts, forcing her to stagger back. She follows up with a hammerlock as Winston fights to break free. Chaos twists this into a short-range lariat that puts Winston down hard. As Chelsea tries to sit up, Katie circles around behind and applies a Tongan death grip on her shoulder – the joint manipulation has Winston howling in pain and the crowd growing restless at the slow pace. Katie leans into the hold, applying more pressure as the referee checks if Winston wants to submit. Chelsea shows no interest in that as Katie leans over her, trying to introduce more and more pressure in the nerve hold. The Outback Queen reaches out for the bottom rope, but finds it out of reach and then Chaos transitions to a sleeper hold – PURE CHAOS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING AND CHELSEA WINSTON TAPS OUT!! The crowd... goes mild as Katie has her hand raised in victory, completely deadpan.
WINNER: KATIE CHAOS
WINNER: KATIE CHAOS
PRE-RECORDED VIGNETTE
AURORA ZAMBROTTA
AURORA ZAMBROTTA
The video wall suddenly cuts off to some random location. What is the location? Probably a dark room but that isn't important. For what is important is the sight of a black cauldron with small mist flowing out and across the floor around said cauldron as appearing behind the pot is Aurora Zambrotta herself. Though dressed in a rather witchy themed outfit, with a rather netty mesh mini skirt that covers a black pair of very short tights, instead of her normal ring gear as she greets us with a happy-looking smile.
Aurora Zambrotta: Like my Halloween outfit? Though I'd probably end up being the worst witch...or the naughtiest...
The Sammarinese beauty giggles rather joyfully before deciding to sharpen her focus a little.
Aurora Zambrotta: But tonight isn't about being naughty...well not too naughty...for tonight I have a match against a very impressive Red Upstart in the form of Faye Lange. She has a strong backing from her family, taller than me and declares that she doesn't play at all. Well tonight I plan on making her play a rather fun game of power...a fun game that I plan to win with the force of a Sammarinese Wrecking Ball. Why?
Making a big gesture of silently conjuring something with her hands Aurora reaches into the cauldron and pulls out...a pair of handcuffs!
Aurora Zambrotta: I was wondering where these wer- I mean whoops!
A possibly charming blush appears upon the powerhouse's face as she immediately pushes the cuff back into the cauldron and pulls out a replica of the Queen of the South Championship. Giving off a relieved sigh, Aurora quickly return her focus back onto what she wanted to say.
Aurora Zambrotta: A while ago the 'Queen' of this place declared that there are people that deserve a shot more than the former holder of this...and mentioned cute little me as one of those people. So if the number one person here thinks that I can earn a shot at something so prestigious...then it is time for this plump little witch to start springing off in that direction. Starting tonight I'll be working extra hard to getting my first taste of gold. And tonight it starts tonight. So...Faye Lange...very impressive Faye Lange...let's play a game of power and opportunity.
The witchy roster member giggle rather playfully after saying her words. The mist flowing out the cauldron increases more and more until the entire scene is overtaken in white smoke.
BACKSTAGE
LUTHER THUNDER & ESME OMEGA
LUTHER THUNDER & ESME OMEGA
We head backstage where your SRW Conquest Champion, Luther Thunder, is stood, wearing an immaculate suit with his championship belt over his shoulder, accompanied by his wife, Esme Omega, who begins talking.
Esme: Let me begin by clearing one or two things up. Last time my husband was in the ring, he had Chris Styles dead to rights, before an officiating snafu cost him a rightful victory. Considering Luther had the match clearly won, and said Styles went on to beat "Queen of The Mouth" Champion Ursula Von Rossbach, I trust you are all now under no illusions that in the tier list of champions here in SRW, my husband now stands firmly at the top. Maybe if Ursula spent less time running her mouth and more time running on a treadmill, she could keep pace with my husband. Now...
She grins.
Esme: In fact, due to the lack of people stepping up to face Luther, it is quite clear he has every man and woman on the SRW roster running for cover, cowering in fear. After the way he blasted Juliet Black into oblivion, is there any wonder? Throw everything you have emerald death house, sapphire death casa, diamond death mansion, it does not matter because THIS MAN cannot be stopped. He is a force of nature, the ONLY champion in this company you can be truly proud of, and let this be a lesson, a warning, that you all should heed... stand up to Luther Thunder at your peril. Because it doesn’t matter how tough you think you are... this man will beat the toughness out of you. He will flay your spirit, crush your hopes and dreams. Like he has so many before you.
The Conquest Champion stands there with a smirk.
Luther: Isn’t she something? Not only is my darling wife the single most beautiful of God’s creations on this world and the next, she also speaks the truth. It’s not that I mind being the Conquest Champion, I love it. SRW has been a great chance for me to reach out to new fans and peers alike. You see the wrestling business has given me so much over the years and I think it’s high time to give something back, something that goes along with the three principles I live by: honesty, compassion and fair play.
He smiles as pleasantly as ever next to the adoring wife.
Luther: It’s all thanks to my wife, my best friend, my manager, lover and tag partner in life. She is the one who has made me a better man just by existing, her love, her determination and encouragement... has made me better than I could have even dreamed of being on my own. So when my darling wife said, “Luther, let’s go see some quality wrestling, make an event of this Friday Night,” the answer was simple: Fury Road.
Esme: It’s been a great night of action so far, and who knows? Perhaps on the next Fury Road, you will get to see this glorious champion beside me in action. Because despite what some ignorant people have claimed in the past, my husband is not one to sit on his laurels or get comfortable with his championships. He is hungry, chomping at the bit to show all of these young uns what a true champion is.
He pulls her win with a smirk, she leans up close to him, reaching to stroke the championship.
Luther: Shout out to my brother Bradley Jackson, you know what I am capable of, You know this championship didn’t come to me by a handout or game of chance..you know talent and you know what I’m capable of. Put it in writing and make Fury Road great again..
She nudges him and he smirks.
Luther: Well... better than it’s ever been? Have a great evening folks and stick around. Things keep getting better.
He walks off with the wife and manager in tow as we fade to black.
NARCOLEPTIC NINJA VS KASEY KASH
Kasey Kash is on the defensive right away as the Narcoleptic Ninja comes at him swinging moments after chugging two Red Bulls. He manages to avoid the worst of it until he gets flipped over with a release German suplex. Kash pops right back up, charging in with a few hard strikes before Ninja sends him off this time. He comes in with a telegraphed lariat attempt but Ninja avoids with his Nintrix skills, back-bending to avoid. He sweeps the legs right out from under Kash and the Aussie sensation crashes to the canvas. Ninja doesn't capitalize on the momentum shift as he seems to doze off for a moment, waking up when Kash drops down on him with a swanton bomb. He hooks the leg but Ninja kicks out at 2.5! The crowd goes nuts and they're back up. They collide and a Ninja Strike connects before he chains it with a cartwheel kick! Kash regroups, slapping himself in the face to ward off the cobwebs as he gets up into an onslaught of kicks courtesy of Ninja. He manages a reversal and nails a textbook ripcord bicycle knee, looking to transition to his finisher but Ninja catches his attempt for the Aussie Knee Party and plasters him with a judo toss followed by a splash. They're back up in an instant and Kash looks determined to finish this off. In desperation, Kash sends him into the corner for more kicks and Ninja bails out to the floor, staggering as he lands badly. Kash follows out with a suicide dive and Ninja drops to his knees, letting Kash crash and burn. He rolls Kash back into the ring and follows him in, waiting for the newcomer to rise. A "GO NINJA, GO NINJA, GO!" ripples across the crowd and the Narcoleptic Ninja lets loose a Bruce Lee scream that's almost drowned out by the crowd pop – Sharuken!! It connects and Kasey Kash goes down hard. Ninja stands there stunned for a moment before he drops for the cover, picking up the surprise 1-2-3!!!
WINNER: THE NARCOLEPTIC NINJA
WINNER: THE NARCOLEPTIC NINJA
BACKSTAGE
FORGE MITCHELL & ALOYSIUS MARCUS VANCE IV
FORGE MITCHELL & ALOYSIUS MARCUS VANCE IV
In the locker room area, minutes away from his match for the Hardcore Championship, Forge is shown sitting on a bench in front of a row of wall-mounted lockers. He looks oddly peaceful as he wraps his hands and fingers with white tape, making a careful job of each turn. His kutte hangs neatly nearby, a phone sits beside his leg on the bench, and his attention does not avert even when someone clearly enters the room. Backstage interviewer Monty Proust comes up to him, microphone in hand. He faces the camera briefly…
Monty Proust: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with Forge Mitchell as he prepares to take on Jerry Watts in a Dog Collar Match for the Hardcore Championship! Mr. Mitchell, any thoughts you'd like to share before stepping into the ring with the Icon?!
...before turning to Forge and holding the microphone out. But either Forge is utterly and completely oblivious, or he simply doesn't care that someone is trying to get his attention. Monty slowly acquires a look of confusion, but before he can pull back the stick and perhaps change the posing of his question, someone else steps up. Well-coiffed, well-dressed, the young man with the smooth-and-easy smile clears his throat to get Monty's attention.
?: I'm afraid my client isn't interested in speaking right now, Mr. Proust. But perhaps I could fill in the appropriate blanks?
Looking to the other man, Monty pauses, then brings the mic back.
Monty Proust: And you are, sir?
?: News travels slow around here, eh?
The man chuckles and straightens his tie.
?: Why, I am none other than the Purveyor of Justice and Defender of Truth, a fourth-generation master of the art of law as well as the personal attorney for the Montyr Machine himself: Aloysius Marcus Vance IV, at your service.
Monty sort of… gapes… while, smooth as silk, Aloysius slips a business card into his jacket pocket.
AMV: Hang on to that. You might need it.
Monty Proust: Ah, right. So… Forge is about to have his first title opportunity since joining Southern Rebellion. This coming a week after he went pillar to post with the former Queen of the South Champion, Sam Tolson, a match he lost by disqualification when he smashed her in the head with a steel chair. Now-
AMV: One point at a time, Monty. Yes, this is Forge's first title opportunity here. And it took him how many matches to earn that? One. One throwaway battle at the most recent pay-per-view, Dog Days of Summer, in which he took down his no-name opponent in mere minutes and left him twitching on the mat. Honestly, it wasn't much of a challenge, but the money was good. And that's all my client cares about. Breaking bodies and cashing checks, as the hashtag goes.
As Forge continues to wrap his right hand, AMV is all smiles and confidence. The big man's head bobs slightly, but in response to the conversation or something else is not clear. Monty, though, is a professional and keeps his focus on AMV.
Monty Proust: To be fair, Sam Tolson only needed one match to get her title shot against Zoey Madigan-Star, and-
AMV: And she almost immediately lost it to Ursula Von Rossbach. Seems like she blew her wad entirely just managing to beat Mrs. Madigan-Star twice. One does not go up against the Terminator half-cocked. Sometimes fully-cocked isn't enough for that one.
Monty Proust: Sam DID beat Forge, though.
AMV: Did she?
Forge makes a tight fist with his taped hand, tight enough that the skin discolors. Then he moves to the other hand, still not reacting to the goings-on.
AMV: Because as I recall, she got her head smashed in by a steel chair and at this very moment is having trouble keeping from drooling all over herself. Now, perhaps that hyperbole goes a bit too far, but… well, after all her talk and trying to make herself sound like a badass, she had to be helped from the ring while Forge walked off with his head held high. Is he happy about getting the lesser of the two paychecks for that fight? Perhaps. But he did get a swell souvenir!
The lawyer gestures to the wall nearby, just past the rack upon which the leather vest hangs, upon which the chair leans, heavily dented from the wicked chair shot that Tolson took. Forge DID say he was bringing it to Fury Road, so…
AMV: What do you say to that, Marty?
Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Monty eyes Forge while he asks another question.
Monty Proust: Monty. He… also said that he didn't care about winning that match with Sam, right?
AMV: Very good! And what else?
Monty Proust: That… this match with Jerry Watts… he DOES want to win?
AMV: I knew you were paying attention! Good man!
Aloysius claps Monty firmly on the shoulder with a broad grin. Then he gets a bit more serious.
AMV: Jerry talks a good game, but that's all it is: talk. Talk is cheap. Worth literally jack and shit as my client likes to say. Jerry would love to have us think that his past means something in the here and now, but truly? It amounts to very little. What happens in Southern Rebellion is all that matters, because that is where this battle takes place. And the last time we saw Jerry in a ring, he got trounced by little Maja Lindstrom! Now… no hate upon that pretty Fallen Angel. I think we can all agree that she's incredibly talented. She didn't luck into her part of the championship belt she's toting around. Yes, that's from another company, but I digress.
Running his hands down his suit jacket and plucking a stray bit of lint from the shoulder, Vance continues his pontificating.
AMV: The only way he can say that he comes close to matching up with my client is that both of them have beaten that moron Brutus in separate matches. But there is a darker truth below that thin layer of similarity: Watts had to put in effort to beat Brutus. Forge… slapped him down like a little bitch. Apparently, the so-called Iconic Drop pales in comparison to Twisted Steel. But anyone who has seen my client work in the past already knows that. And those who felt it? Their spines just seized up at the mere mention of it.
Monty looks dubious but AMV's confidence is without weakness.
AMV: And who, pray, did Jerry win his soon-to-be-lost championship from? Why, perennial loser, race-baiter and loudmouth to the masses, Crystal Zdunich! Honestly, I'd make a joke about taking candy from children, but that purple-haired fool would start spouting off about pedophilia or something and Southern Rebellion does not need that sort of stress and bad PR on their hands. Our esteemed bosses simply don't deserve that sort of mess on their plates.
Folding his hands before him, AMV gives Monty a chance to reply while Forge finishes taping his other hand to his liking. He still keeps his head down and his eyes on his preparations, though his thick, powerfully-muscled chest rises and falls along with his shoulders from deep, measured breaths.
Monty Proust: All good points, sir, but I still think you're selling Mr. Watts short. I mean, have you seen how ripped he is?
AMV: And that's the only thing he has to brag about, Marty. Muscles. Do you know what those muscles are to a man like Forge? They're a weakness.
Monty Proust: I… don't follow.
AMV: Jerry Watts is a vain creature. He loves showing off how jacked he is. Do you know what that amounts to in a real fight? Nothing. Look at every man who has been considered the strongest man in the world. Look at every top-level weightlifter, Olympic-level or otherwise. Do you see any of them built like someone stuck a vacuum to their back and sucked their skin to the breaking point across the rest of their bodies? Do you?
Monty Proust: Well… no.
AMV: Most of them are built like kegs. Rare exceptions are built like Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson. That's what real power looks like, Monty. They're properly built for strength and have the range of motion and training to make the most of it. Jerry? For all those pretty pecs and bulging biceps to exist, stamina is sacrificed. And as prominent as they are? Well… they're hardly protected. One good twist, one hard stomp, one clean jerk… and all those muscles are going to rip, tear and strain. You might as well jump in a shark tank wearing a wetsuit made of steak. They're a glaring weakness, as I said before. And so obvious a target is like blood in water for a monster like Forge.
This time, the look Monty gives Forge is a more wary one. The man is sitting now with his hands folded between his knees, his head lowered a bit more. Aloysius looks too, with an expression of reverence and respect for his client.
Monty Proust: I hate to bring this up, but Jerry said a lot of pointed things to Forge. That he made idle threats, that he's not as much of a big shot as he thinks he is-
AMV: He also said he'd die to remain champion. Do you believe that, too?
Monty Proust: I never said I believed the rest! I'm just relating-
AMV: Come on, now, Monty… you're smarter than that.
The fourth-generation lawyer shakes his head with a smile.
AMV: Let me bring to you the simplest difference between Jerry and Forge, all right? With Jerry, it's a lot of hyperbole and braggadocio. He says whatever he thinks he has to in order to get the people in the stands pumped up and put his opponent on mental defense. Then he tries to overpower them in the ring before they realize that he's not as good as he thinks he is. And he isn't. You can see it in the little hesitations, the moments of thought when instinct would serve. That's part of why he got beaten by Maja. It's why it took him twice the time to put down that lout Brutus. He thinks too much and talks WAY too much. And that's coming from ME, Marty.
He knows he's verbose. He winks at Monty, then continues.
AMV: For all his big talk, Jerry is afraid. And he damn well should be. This is his first title defense, and he does not have the option of running away or taking an easy way out. He's connected to Forge by a length of chain and a thick leather collar that will be buckled tight around that bulging neck of his. Jerry would tell you that that means Forge is trapped with him, too, but if you're locked into a cage with an angry alpha wolf, Monty, is the wolf REALLY locked in with you… or are YOU locked in with the wolf?
The question does not really require an answer, but Monty still steps up.
Monty Proust: In my opinion, you're locked in with the wolf.
AMV: Congratu-fucking-lations, Marty! You're smarter than the champion!
The lawyer laughs boisterously. Monty still looks concerned, however. Meanwhile, Forge reaches to his ears and takes out two small black devices, putting them in a cylindrical case sitting near his phone. As he does, the roaring guitars and vocals of Metallica's "Hardwired" peal out from the phone's speaker. But a tap upon the screen pauses this. Forge rises, making Monty step back. He takes a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket and pulls them on over his taped hands, drawing the bands tight. AMV, meanwhile, turns to stare directly into the camera. The smile is back, just a shade above slimy. It's his lawyer best.
AMV: It's time to go to work. Jerry, your short run with the title has been both disappointing and lackluster. Thankfully, after tonight, Southern Rebellion will have a Hardcore Champion who can truly bring new meaning to the term and put some shine on the gold your existence threatens to tarnish.
Forge Mitchell: Monty.
The sudden vocalization from Forge catches both men by surprise; AMV is simply better at brushing off his own.
Monty Proust: Y-Yes?
The Martyr Machine turns his imposing gaze upon the little interviewer.
Forge Mitchell: Go tell Jackson to call an ambulance. Tell him to back that fucker up to ringside. Jerry Watts wants to put his life on the line, betting that against his title? I'm gonna make sure he pays up. Or wishes he had.
Smirking, AMV nods with satisfaction while Forge grabs his kutte off the hanger and dons it as he leaves the locker room with AMV in his wake. Monty stands there, looking concerned, then turns to the camera.
Monty Proust: There you have it, fans! The challenger is most definitely ready for tonight!
Monty Proust: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with Forge Mitchell as he prepares to take on Jerry Watts in a Dog Collar Match for the Hardcore Championship! Mr. Mitchell, any thoughts you'd like to share before stepping into the ring with the Icon?!
...before turning to Forge and holding the microphone out. But either Forge is utterly and completely oblivious, or he simply doesn't care that someone is trying to get his attention. Monty slowly acquires a look of confusion, but before he can pull back the stick and perhaps change the posing of his question, someone else steps up. Well-coiffed, well-dressed, the young man with the smooth-and-easy smile clears his throat to get Monty's attention.
?: I'm afraid my client isn't interested in speaking right now, Mr. Proust. But perhaps I could fill in the appropriate blanks?
Looking to the other man, Monty pauses, then brings the mic back.
Monty Proust: And you are, sir?
?: News travels slow around here, eh?
The man chuckles and straightens his tie.
?: Why, I am none other than the Purveyor of Justice and Defender of Truth, a fourth-generation master of the art of law as well as the personal attorney for the Montyr Machine himself: Aloysius Marcus Vance IV, at your service.
Monty sort of… gapes… while, smooth as silk, Aloysius slips a business card into his jacket pocket.
AMV: Hang on to that. You might need it.
Monty Proust: Ah, right. So… Forge is about to have his first title opportunity since joining Southern Rebellion. This coming a week after he went pillar to post with the former Queen of the South Champion, Sam Tolson, a match he lost by disqualification when he smashed her in the head with a steel chair. Now-
AMV: One point at a time, Monty. Yes, this is Forge's first title opportunity here. And it took him how many matches to earn that? One. One throwaway battle at the most recent pay-per-view, Dog Days of Summer, in which he took down his no-name opponent in mere minutes and left him twitching on the mat. Honestly, it wasn't much of a challenge, but the money was good. And that's all my client cares about. Breaking bodies and cashing checks, as the hashtag goes.
As Forge continues to wrap his right hand, AMV is all smiles and confidence. The big man's head bobs slightly, but in response to the conversation or something else is not clear. Monty, though, is a professional and keeps his focus on AMV.
Monty Proust: To be fair, Sam Tolson only needed one match to get her title shot against Zoey Madigan-Star, and-
AMV: And she almost immediately lost it to Ursula Von Rossbach. Seems like she blew her wad entirely just managing to beat Mrs. Madigan-Star twice. One does not go up against the Terminator half-cocked. Sometimes fully-cocked isn't enough for that one.
Monty Proust: Sam DID beat Forge, though.
AMV: Did she?
Forge makes a tight fist with his taped hand, tight enough that the skin discolors. Then he moves to the other hand, still not reacting to the goings-on.
AMV: Because as I recall, she got her head smashed in by a steel chair and at this very moment is having trouble keeping from drooling all over herself. Now, perhaps that hyperbole goes a bit too far, but… well, after all her talk and trying to make herself sound like a badass, she had to be helped from the ring while Forge walked off with his head held high. Is he happy about getting the lesser of the two paychecks for that fight? Perhaps. But he did get a swell souvenir!
The lawyer gestures to the wall nearby, just past the rack upon which the leather vest hangs, upon which the chair leans, heavily dented from the wicked chair shot that Tolson took. Forge DID say he was bringing it to Fury Road, so…
AMV: What do you say to that, Marty?
Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Monty eyes Forge while he asks another question.
Monty Proust: Monty. He… also said that he didn't care about winning that match with Sam, right?
AMV: Very good! And what else?
Monty Proust: That… this match with Jerry Watts… he DOES want to win?
AMV: I knew you were paying attention! Good man!
Aloysius claps Monty firmly on the shoulder with a broad grin. Then he gets a bit more serious.
AMV: Jerry talks a good game, but that's all it is: talk. Talk is cheap. Worth literally jack and shit as my client likes to say. Jerry would love to have us think that his past means something in the here and now, but truly? It amounts to very little. What happens in Southern Rebellion is all that matters, because that is where this battle takes place. And the last time we saw Jerry in a ring, he got trounced by little Maja Lindstrom! Now… no hate upon that pretty Fallen Angel. I think we can all agree that she's incredibly talented. She didn't luck into her part of the championship belt she's toting around. Yes, that's from another company, but I digress.
Running his hands down his suit jacket and plucking a stray bit of lint from the shoulder, Vance continues his pontificating.
AMV: The only way he can say that he comes close to matching up with my client is that both of them have beaten that moron Brutus in separate matches. But there is a darker truth below that thin layer of similarity: Watts had to put in effort to beat Brutus. Forge… slapped him down like a little bitch. Apparently, the so-called Iconic Drop pales in comparison to Twisted Steel. But anyone who has seen my client work in the past already knows that. And those who felt it? Their spines just seized up at the mere mention of it.
Monty looks dubious but AMV's confidence is without weakness.
AMV: And who, pray, did Jerry win his soon-to-be-lost championship from? Why, perennial loser, race-baiter and loudmouth to the masses, Crystal Zdunich! Honestly, I'd make a joke about taking candy from children, but that purple-haired fool would start spouting off about pedophilia or something and Southern Rebellion does not need that sort of stress and bad PR on their hands. Our esteemed bosses simply don't deserve that sort of mess on their plates.
Folding his hands before him, AMV gives Monty a chance to reply while Forge finishes taping his other hand to his liking. He still keeps his head down and his eyes on his preparations, though his thick, powerfully-muscled chest rises and falls along with his shoulders from deep, measured breaths.
Monty Proust: All good points, sir, but I still think you're selling Mr. Watts short. I mean, have you seen how ripped he is?
AMV: And that's the only thing he has to brag about, Marty. Muscles. Do you know what those muscles are to a man like Forge? They're a weakness.
Monty Proust: I… don't follow.
AMV: Jerry Watts is a vain creature. He loves showing off how jacked he is. Do you know what that amounts to in a real fight? Nothing. Look at every man who has been considered the strongest man in the world. Look at every top-level weightlifter, Olympic-level or otherwise. Do you see any of them built like someone stuck a vacuum to their back and sucked their skin to the breaking point across the rest of their bodies? Do you?
Monty Proust: Well… no.
AMV: Most of them are built like kegs. Rare exceptions are built like Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson. That's what real power looks like, Monty. They're properly built for strength and have the range of motion and training to make the most of it. Jerry? For all those pretty pecs and bulging biceps to exist, stamina is sacrificed. And as prominent as they are? Well… they're hardly protected. One good twist, one hard stomp, one clean jerk… and all those muscles are going to rip, tear and strain. You might as well jump in a shark tank wearing a wetsuit made of steak. They're a glaring weakness, as I said before. And so obvious a target is like blood in water for a monster like Forge.
This time, the look Monty gives Forge is a more wary one. The man is sitting now with his hands folded between his knees, his head lowered a bit more. Aloysius looks too, with an expression of reverence and respect for his client.
Monty Proust: I hate to bring this up, but Jerry said a lot of pointed things to Forge. That he made idle threats, that he's not as much of a big shot as he thinks he is-
AMV: He also said he'd die to remain champion. Do you believe that, too?
Monty Proust: I never said I believed the rest! I'm just relating-
AMV: Come on, now, Monty… you're smarter than that.
The fourth-generation lawyer shakes his head with a smile.
AMV: Let me bring to you the simplest difference between Jerry and Forge, all right? With Jerry, it's a lot of hyperbole and braggadocio. He says whatever he thinks he has to in order to get the people in the stands pumped up and put his opponent on mental defense. Then he tries to overpower them in the ring before they realize that he's not as good as he thinks he is. And he isn't. You can see it in the little hesitations, the moments of thought when instinct would serve. That's part of why he got beaten by Maja. It's why it took him twice the time to put down that lout Brutus. He thinks too much and talks WAY too much. And that's coming from ME, Marty.
He knows he's verbose. He winks at Monty, then continues.
AMV: For all his big talk, Jerry is afraid. And he damn well should be. This is his first title defense, and he does not have the option of running away or taking an easy way out. He's connected to Forge by a length of chain and a thick leather collar that will be buckled tight around that bulging neck of his. Jerry would tell you that that means Forge is trapped with him, too, but if you're locked into a cage with an angry alpha wolf, Monty, is the wolf REALLY locked in with you… or are YOU locked in with the wolf?
The question does not really require an answer, but Monty still steps up.
Monty Proust: In my opinion, you're locked in with the wolf.
AMV: Congratu-fucking-lations, Marty! You're smarter than the champion!
The lawyer laughs boisterously. Monty still looks concerned, however. Meanwhile, Forge reaches to his ears and takes out two small black devices, putting them in a cylindrical case sitting near his phone. As he does, the roaring guitars and vocals of Metallica's "Hardwired" peal out from the phone's speaker. But a tap upon the screen pauses this. Forge rises, making Monty step back. He takes a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket and pulls them on over his taped hands, drawing the bands tight. AMV, meanwhile, turns to stare directly into the camera. The smile is back, just a shade above slimy. It's his lawyer best.
AMV: It's time to go to work. Jerry, your short run with the title has been both disappointing and lackluster. Thankfully, after tonight, Southern Rebellion will have a Hardcore Champion who can truly bring new meaning to the term and put some shine on the gold your existence threatens to tarnish.
Forge Mitchell: Monty.
The sudden vocalization from Forge catches both men by surprise; AMV is simply better at brushing off his own.
Monty Proust: Y-Yes?
The Martyr Machine turns his imposing gaze upon the little interviewer.
Forge Mitchell: Go tell Jackson to call an ambulance. Tell him to back that fucker up to ringside. Jerry Watts wants to put his life on the line, betting that against his title? I'm gonna make sure he pays up. Or wishes he had.
Smirking, AMV nods with satisfaction while Forge grabs his kutte off the hanger and dons it as he leaves the locker room with AMV in his wake. Monty stands there, looking concerned, then turns to the camera.
Monty Proust: There you have it, fans! The challenger is most definitely ready for tonight!
AURORA ZAMBROTTA VS FAYE LANGE
The two women shake hands before the match starts and then transition into a collar-and-elbow tie up that sees Aurora taking immediate advantage. She powers Faye down to her knees and then scoops her up, going for a running powerbomb. Faye hits hard and writhes in pain for a moment while Aurora smacks her own bum, wiggling to the crowd's enjoyment. Faye doesn't really seem amused with Aurora's antics, so she goes for a double-leg takedown, taking Aurora down hard before immediately getting into a mount and raining down several hard strikes. Aurora tosses her off, showing off her power and the two get back to their feet and immediately lock up, only for Faye to pull Aurora into a side headlock – TAKEDOWN!
She transitions to a Texas cloverleaf but Aurora reverses it, hoisting Faye and taking her down with a suplex that ends with Faye landing awkwardly on his shoulder blades. Aurora grabs Faye and helps her back up. She goes for an Irish Whip, but Faye counters, and sends Aurora into the ropes. Aurora comes off, looking for a Thesz Press but Faye sidesteps and catches Aurora, dropping her over her knees with a pendulum backbreaker. Faye pulls Aurora to her feet again and then immediately lays into her with stiff knife-edged chops but Aurora sucks them up and then reverses a grapple attempt! She hoists Faye up and Beel tosses her across the ring. She goes for the Crash Landing but Faye catches her and looks like she's going for MALESTROM – REVERSAL AS AURORA SLIPS OUT THE BACK DOOR! She nails a hard lariat that only has Faye stumbling back so she backs off and springs off the ropes with the Sammarinese Wrecking Ball! Faye goes down hard and doesn't move!! AURORA DROPS FOR THE COVER AND THE CROWD IS HOLDING THEIR BREATH! Faye kicks out but it's a split second after the 1-2-3 with Aurora picking up a huge win! She helps Faye up and holds her arm up as the crowd pops over the great match they just witnessed!!
WINNER: AURORA ZAMBROTTA
She transitions to a Texas cloverleaf but Aurora reverses it, hoisting Faye and taking her down with a suplex that ends with Faye landing awkwardly on his shoulder blades. Aurora grabs Faye and helps her back up. She goes for an Irish Whip, but Faye counters, and sends Aurora into the ropes. Aurora comes off, looking for a Thesz Press but Faye sidesteps and catches Aurora, dropping her over her knees with a pendulum backbreaker. Faye pulls Aurora to her feet again and then immediately lays into her with stiff knife-edged chops but Aurora sucks them up and then reverses a grapple attempt! She hoists Faye up and Beel tosses her across the ring. She goes for the Crash Landing but Faye catches her and looks like she's going for MALESTROM – REVERSAL AS AURORA SLIPS OUT THE BACK DOOR! She nails a hard lariat that only has Faye stumbling back so she backs off and springs off the ropes with the Sammarinese Wrecking Ball! Faye goes down hard and doesn't move!! AURORA DROPS FOR THE COVER AND THE CROWD IS HOLDING THEIR BREATH! Faye kicks out but it's a split second after the 1-2-3 with Aurora picking up a huge win! She helps Faye up and holds her arm up as the crowd pops over the great match they just witnessed!!
WINNER: AURORA ZAMBROTTA
BACKSTAGE
HOUSE OF DIX
HOUSE OF DIX
We are backstage at the legendary SWA Boondocks Arena, With one half of the SOUTHERN STAR CROSS TAG CHAMPIONS: Tracy Dixon who is holding a microphone.
Tracy: Whooey, it’s been a while hasn’t it ladies and germs, kids, gramps and everyone in between. In case you don’t remember who I am, my name is Tracy Dixon and I’m here with my partner Wendy--
She looks to her side and sees that no one is there, then looks off camera.
Tracy: House!
??: Yeah?!
Tracy: Get over here, we doing a promo!
??: In a minute, me’s gotta get weady.
We see Tracy’s eyes widen as she sees someone walk towards the camera.
Tracy: Holy mother of..WHAT are you wearing?!
We see her partner Wendy House wearing a black & yellow combo Karate Gi, topped off with a black headband on.
Tracy: House.
Wendy: Yes?
Tracy: You DO know it’s not Halloween yet, right?
Wendy: What you’s mean?
Tracy: ..talking about your...costume.
We see her partner frown with disgust.
Wendy: It NO COSTUME it’s me kawate uniform!
Tracy: ..and... the headband is?
Wendy: Twibute.
Tracy: Of course.
House beams up, looking at the camera.
Wendy: Yup it’s me’s twibute for the gweat Sensei Lawrence from Cobwa Kai dojo! I would like to dedicate our match tonight to him and his legendawy Sensei John Kweese...also of the Cobwa Kai Dojo..No Mewcy bitches!
Dixon glares at her partner.
Tracy: Look, House. I know it’s been a while since we had a match. I mean being that we have not even defended these titles once since we won them. I know when you said that hardest thing is not winning the championship but holding them.
Wendy: Yah, been pwetty easy hasn’t it, that cause me’s a legend!
Tracy: ..sure, look what I mean is we have had time on our hands and I’ve enjoyed watching Cobra Kai with you on Netflix, but you do realize it’s just a show right..?
House tilts her head.
Wendy: but... Karate has taught mes so much, me thinks it will do wonders for our careers if we could go and train at the Cobra Kai Dojo, maybe meet John Kweese... check dis out.
She’s putting on a mean face and suddenly her voice drops down to a hoarse growl.
Wendy: Stwike fiwst, Stwike hard, no mercy!
~KYAAAAH!~
She throws a mean punch at the camera and smirks.
Wendy: ..well?
Tracy: You have no idea how happy I am to be getting back to wrestling. Much obliged to Mr. Brad Jackson for giving us a match against the Pretty Committee tonight
Wendy: Petty committee?
Tracy: No House, Pretty.
Wendy: Pwetty?
Tracy: Yup.
Wendy: Aww thanks, yous kinda pwetty too, Trace.
Dixon chuckles.
Tracy: No Wendy, those are our opponents tonight.
Wendy: Enemies.
Tracy: What?
Wendy: They be our enemies Tracy and the enemy desewves no mercy.
Dixon shakes her head and looks at the camera then her friend.
Tracy: Look, they’ve been talking about us on Twitter, talking about how they have a plan for us, apparently they believe that they can plan for us since it has worked for them so well in the past and I don’t need to tell you how important this match is going forward, because we still have these here championship, we have to show not just Jackson, not just our opponents but ALL of SRW that our win was NOT a fluke, got it?
House nods.
House: Yah, t’wasn’t a fluke. Me’s not sure why dey’s bothewing wiv a plan dough. How you’s plan for House? House barely knows what House gonna do, how’s the Twitty Commitee gonna figure it out?
Tracy: Yes, but...
House whips something out of her pocket.
House: TURNIP!
Tracy sighs.
Tracy: House, why do you have a turnip?
House: Me’s not sure, sure is a turnip for the books!
Tracy stares at her deadpan as House nudges her.
House: You’s... you’s get it? TURNIP for the BOOKS?
Tracy continues to stare at her. House grumps and throws the turnip at her.
House: NO MERCY!!!
Tracy: OWWW! Who knew turnips hurt so damn much!?
House: I did, me’s hawdcore like that. See, EVEN you, my plumpious pal can not plan for the awesomeness that is Wendy House Karate..
Tracy: You LITERALLY threw a turnip, that is not even Kara--
House: SILENCE! THERE IS NO BACKTAWKING IN THIS DOJO! SENSEI HOUSE IS IN CHARGE NOW..tonight we gonna go kick some asses and if the Twitty Doo-hickey got a problem with that..if they wanna mock us or try some stupid illegal shit like a crane kick to the face..
Tracy: Oh god not this again..
House: IT IS AN ILLEGAL MOVE! LARUSSO SHOULD NOT HAVE WON! HE DONE DID DIDDLY CHEAT!
Tracy: …
House: He did..
Tracy: House, please... this is an important match. I’ll make you a deal, okay?
House: Sensei House is listening..
Tracy: IF we beat the Pretty Committee tonight, I will binge watch the rest of Cobra Kai Season 2 with you after the show.
Her partner crosses her arms and has a stern look.
House: BOTH seasons.
Tracy: ...but we already saw the first se--
House: I SAID BOTH KIYAAAAH~!
She throws a chocolate bar right between Tracy’s eyes.
Tracy: OWWWH! That was in the freezer wasn’t it?!
House: Both seasons Miss Dixon...we can’t let those bastards at Miaygi-Do Karate win! We can’t let Larusso win…
Tracy: ..again.
House: HE CHEATED!
Dixon looks at the camera.
Tracy: This may take a while, we’ll see you guys out there.
Tracy: Whooey, it’s been a while hasn’t it ladies and germs, kids, gramps and everyone in between. In case you don’t remember who I am, my name is Tracy Dixon and I’m here with my partner Wendy--
She looks to her side and sees that no one is there, then looks off camera.
Tracy: House!
??: Yeah?!
Tracy: Get over here, we doing a promo!
??: In a minute, me’s gotta get weady.
We see Tracy’s eyes widen as she sees someone walk towards the camera.
Tracy: Holy mother of..WHAT are you wearing?!
We see her partner Wendy House wearing a black & yellow combo Karate Gi, topped off with a black headband on.
Tracy: House.
Wendy: Yes?
Tracy: You DO know it’s not Halloween yet, right?
Wendy: What you’s mean?
Tracy: ..talking about your...costume.
We see her partner frown with disgust.
Wendy: It NO COSTUME it’s me kawate uniform!
Tracy: ..and... the headband is?
Wendy: Twibute.
Tracy: Of course.
House beams up, looking at the camera.
Wendy: Yup it’s me’s twibute for the gweat Sensei Lawrence from Cobwa Kai dojo! I would like to dedicate our match tonight to him and his legendawy Sensei John Kweese...also of the Cobwa Kai Dojo..No Mewcy bitches!
Dixon glares at her partner.
Tracy: Look, House. I know it’s been a while since we had a match. I mean being that we have not even defended these titles once since we won them. I know when you said that hardest thing is not winning the championship but holding them.
Wendy: Yah, been pwetty easy hasn’t it, that cause me’s a legend!
Tracy: ..sure, look what I mean is we have had time on our hands and I’ve enjoyed watching Cobra Kai with you on Netflix, but you do realize it’s just a show right..?
House tilts her head.
Wendy: but... Karate has taught mes so much, me thinks it will do wonders for our careers if we could go and train at the Cobra Kai Dojo, maybe meet John Kweese... check dis out.
She’s putting on a mean face and suddenly her voice drops down to a hoarse growl.
Wendy: Stwike fiwst, Stwike hard, no mercy!
~KYAAAAH!~
She throws a mean punch at the camera and smirks.
Wendy: ..well?
Tracy: You have no idea how happy I am to be getting back to wrestling. Much obliged to Mr. Brad Jackson for giving us a match against the Pretty Committee tonight
Wendy: Petty committee?
Tracy: No House, Pretty.
Wendy: Pwetty?
Tracy: Yup.
Wendy: Aww thanks, yous kinda pwetty too, Trace.
Dixon chuckles.
Tracy: No Wendy, those are our opponents tonight.
Wendy: Enemies.
Tracy: What?
Wendy: They be our enemies Tracy and the enemy desewves no mercy.
Dixon shakes her head and looks at the camera then her friend.
Tracy: Look, they’ve been talking about us on Twitter, talking about how they have a plan for us, apparently they believe that they can plan for us since it has worked for them so well in the past and I don’t need to tell you how important this match is going forward, because we still have these here championship, we have to show not just Jackson, not just our opponents but ALL of SRW that our win was NOT a fluke, got it?
House nods.
House: Yah, t’wasn’t a fluke. Me’s not sure why dey’s bothewing wiv a plan dough. How you’s plan for House? House barely knows what House gonna do, how’s the Twitty Commitee gonna figure it out?
Tracy: Yes, but...
House whips something out of her pocket.
House: TURNIP!
Tracy sighs.
Tracy: House, why do you have a turnip?
House: Me’s not sure, sure is a turnip for the books!
Tracy stares at her deadpan as House nudges her.
House: You’s... you’s get it? TURNIP for the BOOKS?
Tracy continues to stare at her. House grumps and throws the turnip at her.
House: NO MERCY!!!
Tracy: OWWW! Who knew turnips hurt so damn much!?
House: I did, me’s hawdcore like that. See, EVEN you, my plumpious pal can not plan for the awesomeness that is Wendy House Karate..
Tracy: You LITERALLY threw a turnip, that is not even Kara--
House: SILENCE! THERE IS NO BACKTAWKING IN THIS DOJO! SENSEI HOUSE IS IN CHARGE NOW..tonight we gonna go kick some asses and if the Twitty Doo-hickey got a problem with that..if they wanna mock us or try some stupid illegal shit like a crane kick to the face..
Tracy: Oh god not this again..
House: IT IS AN ILLEGAL MOVE! LARUSSO SHOULD NOT HAVE WON! HE DONE DID DIDDLY CHEAT!
Tracy: …
House: He did..
Tracy: House, please... this is an important match. I’ll make you a deal, okay?
House: Sensei House is listening..
Tracy: IF we beat the Pretty Committee tonight, I will binge watch the rest of Cobra Kai Season 2 with you after the show.
Her partner crosses her arms and has a stern look.
House: BOTH seasons.
Tracy: ...but we already saw the first se--
House: I SAID BOTH KIYAAAAH~!
She throws a chocolate bar right between Tracy’s eyes.
Tracy: OWWWH! That was in the freezer wasn’t it?!
House: Both seasons Miss Dixon...we can’t let those bastards at Miaygi-Do Karate win! We can’t let Larusso win…
Tracy: ..again.
House: HE CHEATED!
Dixon looks at the camera.
Tracy: This may take a while, we’ll see you guys out there.
THE PRETTY COMMITTEE VS HOUSE OF DIX
Wendy stands across from Bianca as the Queen B gives her a piece of her mind. Bianca says some things that are not heard by the ringside mic and Wendy shakes her head and turns to her partner, dismissing the mouthy blonde. Bianca takes exception, spins Wendy around and rakes her eyes with that perfect manicure before the bell can even ring. House staggers back towards her corner, blinded but Bianca nails a hard bitch slap across the face. Tracy steps through the ropes and shoves Bianca back, getting a warning from the referee for the interference – Bianca finds that hilarious as she points and laughs. Wendy spears Bianca off her feet and then locks her into a camel clutch, digging thumbs into Bianca's eyes as she wrenches on Queen B's neck. After getting a warning from the official for the blatant eye gouge, Wendy releases the hold. Wendy gets back up and springs off the ropes, looking for a clothesline as Bianca stumbles back to her feet, feeling a little of that retribution as she's momentarily blinded. It misses the mark as Bianca staggers out of the way and Wendy lets out a karate scream and unloads a knife-edge chop that sends Bianca reeling but she seems to have her bearings back now and she lunges at Wendy. House avoids the crossbody, taking her down as she reverses Bianca's momentum with a flawless shining wizard. She waits for Wendy to get up, looking for a bulldog – DENIED! Wendy catches her neck on the way, and manages a DDT and then dives into her corner for the hot tag to Tracy Dixon!
Bianca's quick to her feet and she goes towards her own corner and Veronica's outstretched hand but Tracy grabs her by the arm and scoops her up for a quick back snapmare. Tracy tries for the cover only to be pulled out of the ring by Veronica Taylor! Before she can do much damage besides a quick mudhole stomping on the outside, Wendy launches herself off the ring steps and nails Veronica with a springboard lariat that almost takes her head off! The crowd goes nuts as Wendy and Veronica start brawling on the outside. Tracy slides back into the ring, right into Bianca's clutches although it's clear that she's feeling the damage that's already been done. Tracy sends Queen B into the corner, following her in with a back-elbow splash and then she follows up with a few hard chops that the crowd's happy to count along with. Bianca drops to her knees, looking to escape the onslaught and Tracy falls for it, going for a knee to the face and hitting the ring post instead. Bianca tries to steal the win with a quick schoolgirl – REVERSAL AND A 2.5!! Bianca rakes Tracy's eyes and when she falls back, the Ascendant Champion dives into the corner, looking for a tag with Veronica only to have her disappear off the apron thanks to Wendy House. A moment later she's flattened with the Kentucky Blind Date! Tracy stomps down on the backs of Bianca's thighs and then she's got the CASE CLOSED LOCKED IN! Bianca's screaming in pain, unable to break out of the elevated hold even before Tracy gets the sleeper locked in and it's only a matter of time before the Queen B has to tap out!!
WINNER: HOUSE OF DIX
Bianca's quick to her feet and she goes towards her own corner and Veronica's outstretched hand but Tracy grabs her by the arm and scoops her up for a quick back snapmare. Tracy tries for the cover only to be pulled out of the ring by Veronica Taylor! Before she can do much damage besides a quick mudhole stomping on the outside, Wendy launches herself off the ring steps and nails Veronica with a springboard lariat that almost takes her head off! The crowd goes nuts as Wendy and Veronica start brawling on the outside. Tracy slides back into the ring, right into Bianca's clutches although it's clear that she's feeling the damage that's already been done. Tracy sends Queen B into the corner, following her in with a back-elbow splash and then she follows up with a few hard chops that the crowd's happy to count along with. Bianca drops to her knees, looking to escape the onslaught and Tracy falls for it, going for a knee to the face and hitting the ring post instead. Bianca tries to steal the win with a quick schoolgirl – REVERSAL AND A 2.5!! Bianca rakes Tracy's eyes and when she falls back, the Ascendant Champion dives into the corner, looking for a tag with Veronica only to have her disappear off the apron thanks to Wendy House. A moment later she's flattened with the Kentucky Blind Date! Tracy stomps down on the backs of Bianca's thighs and then she's got the CASE CLOSED LOCKED IN! Bianca's screaming in pain, unable to break out of the elevated hold even before Tracy gets the sleeper locked in and it's only a matter of time before the Queen B has to tap out!!
WINNER: HOUSE OF DIX
BACKSTAGE
JERRY WATTS
JERRY WATTS
The night has finally come for Southern Rebellion Wrestling's Fury Road. The long await has finally seemed worth it for one wrestler, Jerry Watts. Tonight, will be a night he proves himself as a worthy Hardcore Champion. The cameras start to close in on the hallway of the backstage area; with each glimpse closer, Jerry comes into clear view. That night being dressed in his regular ring attire for the upcoming match. His eyes give off a serious intent as they glance towards the camera. He knows it will be a night the fans will be grateful for: a match that would test his talent against a hungry competitor. Through the week he has grown to have no respect for his upcoming opponent. It has appeared as if his opponent has bitten off more than he chewed. At that moment, he smiles before allowing his mouth to open slowly.
Jerry Watts: Tonight you get the chance that many don’t Trenton Forge Mitchell, you get to face off against a worthy champion. A man that won’t care who’s around to try to stop me. I will stop at nothing to bring value to this Hardcore Title. You want to think a chair will cause enough damage to get the job done. You see I have been in this industry long enough to endure so much more pain. I have gone through hell and back just to become hungry. This hunger has caused me to become one of the best. Just ask anyone who’s been around for a long time in this industry. Better yet go a bit higher ask those who actually matter to this industry, just who in the hell I happen to be. The thing I don’t get is what makes you so worthy? They could have picked so many more talented wrestlers. Yet after one match against Sam Tolson you seem to have a growth spurt in confidence. As if this match against a talented wrestler like her has made you equal. You see that is where this burst of confidence will be your downfall. It will blind you from what truly matters, while you may have had luck against Sam; You stand no chance against a living legend.
These words leave his lips as he glances down at the SRW Hardcore title resting against his shoulder. He knows what it means to be a champion of a federation. The bullseye of targets always grew with time. He wasn’t one to hide away from any fight, he carried the belt with pride and honor. He begins to walk down the hallway seeing it was time for his match to soon happen. Every step he took his confidence built strong as if he had already known the outcome. Yet he couldn’t predict the future of this match. There were some people who had wanted the belt off of him. He wouldn’t let that happen he had to prove them wrong, in the process defending his hardcore title successfully. He glances once more towards the camera as he could hear the fans cheering from a distance.
Jerry Watts: You see it’s a good thing you're bringing your motormouth lawyer and the rest of the Mickey Mouse Club. I hope they get a ring side seat during this important match of your career. It finally gives you the spotlight you think you deserve. Yet this same spotlight will be destroyed by my hands. They will finally see your worth for what its true value is. At the end of the match being ashamed of what you couldn’t accomplish. I bet it has fucked with your mind this past week, hasn’t it Trenton? These same mind tricks used to toy with my mind. However, I learned to adapt to see these tricks. It is clear you haven’t prepared for this match tonight. Perhaps, it’s the reason you have had a rough week’s sleep. Don’t worry though these same sleepless nights shall repeat themselves after tonight. The chance you should’ve been able to conquer, just turned into a match you soon to regret. I will take great pride in sending you back home bleeding and worthless. It’s time Trenton to live up to your words this past week. Let’s give these fans what they came to see. Yet at the end of the match it will be me standing above you.
He grins with these words escaping his lips. He stops in his footsteps when he reaches the curtains as if he can feel the excitement coming from beyond those velvet material curtains. He nods his head, in his mind knowing what they are cheering for. The fans had waited all night for the main attraction of the Fury Road event. It was up to him to deliver to these fans what they came to see. It was a dog match that would define all odds against him. At the end of the match being the champion, he was meant to be in this great federation. At that moment his music begins to play over the PA System, the fans begin to get up from their seats; in a standing ovation, they cheer for who’s about to come from behind those curtains.
MAIN EVENT
HARDCORE TITLE: DOG COLLAR MATCH
JERRY WATTS (C) VS FORGE MITCHELL
HARDCORE TITLE: DOG COLLAR MATCH
JERRY WATTS (C) VS FORGE MITCHELL
The referee checks to make sure the dog collar is secured around the neck of both competitors and then the ring of the bell halts the silent staring contest between the two brawlers. Jerry Watts explodes into action, charging directly at Mitchell and he fires in some hard shots, driving Mitchell back against the ropes. Side headlock and Watts wraps the chain around Forge's neck, looking for the early advantage – it's short-lived as Forge retaliates with some hard shots to the kidneys before he uses the chain to trip Watts up. He dives in for a Thesz press after wrapping the chain around his fist and he drills Watts in the face with in three or four times before the champion gets his knees up and shoves Forge off. Mitchell is quick to his feet; firing back with more punches before slinging Watts into the ropes and follows him in catching him a lariat that bounces the champ off the ropes. Forge whips the chain around the face of Watts and the big man goes down to one knee, hands pressed against his eyes. Mitchell follows up with a stunning football kick that nearly takes Watts's head off and the crowd is going insane, on their feet already! There's enough slack in the chain for Forge to slide out of the ring and he rummages under the apron coming up with a wooden door and a couple steel chairs which he tosses into the ring. Watts is still dazed as Forge slides back under the ropes and sets the door up in the corner, getting a huge pop from the crowd as he does.
Mitchell scoops up Watts, only to be on the receiving end of a chain-loaded punch. He staggers back and Watts grabs him, looking for a full nelson bulldog – DENIED! Forge battles back, wrapping the chain around his hand and using that tension to drag Watts in close before a throat thrust steals his air and he throws Watts back-first through the table in the corner. A mudhole stomping ensues and then Watts gets hold of Forge's foot and pulls him off balance. The two crash into the busted remains of the door and come out with the chain wrapped around Forge's neck. For a moment it looks like Watts is going to try and choke him out but Forge nails a wild strike to the face, looking for a moment as though he may have broken the champ's nose. Both men are busted open, already battered and bloody and the match has barely gotten started yet. Forge slides out of the ring, pulling on the chain until Watts is forced to join him on the floor. They're brawling at ringside and Forge smashes the face of Watts off the apron. The champ leans heavy against the ring, breathing hard through his mouth and Mitchell charges in, looking for a crossbody block – HOLY SHIT! Watts catches him midair, slamming him to the floor with a front flip powerbomb. The chain is back around Forge's neck and Watts uses it to haul him back up before sending him crashing right through the barrier. Forge sprawls in the chairs in the first few rows as fans scatter. Instead of punishing him further, Watts uses the chain to drag Forge back towards the ring before hopping over the top rope. He hauls Forge off his feet, choking him with the collar before Mitchell gets his hands around the middle rope and uses it to flip himself over the top rope. He collapses at the feet of the champion and Watts grins, playing to the crowd for a moment. He lets Forge make his way to his feet, watching with amusement as Mitchell shakes his head as though clearing away the cobwebs. Watts charges in but Mitchell uses the chain as he drops down and pulls the champ off balance. He slips around behind and wraps the chain around the neck of Watts, locking in a standing dragon sleeper. The crowd is going insane, unsure who to cheer for during this utter carnage.
Watts wraps the chain around his fist and drills it into the face of Mitchell, getting the break he needs. He drops to one knee as Mitchell staggers back. Watts backs up to the ropes, and sends Mitchell to the canvas with a running clothesline. He springs off the second rope, looking for an elbow drop but he gets blasted with a steel chair instead. He falls back and Forge sets the chair up in the corner, between the top and the middle ropes. He grabs Watts and pulls him up, throwing him headfirst into the corner and the chair. Dropping for the first actual pinfall attempt of the match, Forge hooks the leg – NOPE! Watts kicks out at 2.5 and the match is still going!! Back on their feet, Watts tries to mount a fresh offense, firing on all cylinders as he drives back against the ropes with a series of alternating punches and chops. Forge looks like he's taking the worst of the damage before he hooks the back of one of those chairs with his foot and kicks it up to his hand, getting it up just as Watts throws a huge haymaker. Mitchell locks his hands around Watts's waist and tosses him to the middle of the ring like a sack of dirty laundry with a hard Beel throw. He scrambles to the top rope, and waits for Watts to rise, which he does rather quickly. Mitchell springs, looking for a move that never quite happens as Watts straightens up and throws the chair right at him. Mitchell catches the chair, tosses it aside and actually manages to land solidly behind Watts – he loops the chain around the champ's neck and takes him down with a thunderous DDT! Forge pulls him back up but Watts fires a wild elbow and then whips Mitchell to the ropes. He follows him up with a high leg lariat sending both men tumbling down over the top rope and onto the floor below. The crowd begins to roar as both men make their way to their feet and begin trading fists. Mitchell gets the upper hand as he backs Watts up to the guardrail with a series of right hands followed by a big clothesline, sending Watts backward over the railing and into the crowd. Mitchell wastes no time in following him over as the action spills into the audience for a second time.
Mitchell lifts Watts to his feet and rocks him with a hard right, sending him stumbling backward and into the barrier again. Forge takes a few steps back and delivers a standing dropkick to Watts sending him reeling backward to the floor. The crowd is in shock now as Mitchell hops up on the barrier and does a chain-wrapped fist drop on the floor. Both men are in a world of hurt but Forge staggers up first and he grabs Watts by the back of his head and tries to toss him face first into the unforgiving steel – NO! Watts gets an elbow into Mitchell's ribs and another, backing him up and they're against the tables that were going to be used to sell merch after the show. Watts scoops Forge up and throws him, sending him crashing through the plywood, the chain unfortunately pulling him right into the mess as well. There's broken wood and twisted metal everywhere and then Forge staggers up, followed closely by Watts. They're both throwing punches and elbows, blood flying every which way before they're back and ringside. Forge twists the chain around his arm, looking to keep Watts from creating too much space and he smashes that steel-laden forearm across the face of the champ. Watts sprawls on the apron and Forge gets up there with him, laying a few stomps in before he slides between the ropes, using the bottom rope and the chain to choke the champion. Both men look like they're knocking on death's door. When it looks like Watts is about to pass out, Forge relents and lets go. Watts rolls over, gasping for air through his mouth since it's clear now that his nose is definitely broken. Forge looks for a knee drop but Watts moves at the last possible second and instead Forge smashes down on the broken piece of that door from earlier. He rolls aside and Watts tries to get him into a figure four, punishing that knee – too close to the ropes and the break is immediate. The crowd groans as both men stagger back up. Watts wants to finish this thing and he whips the chain into the chest of Forge as he's rising and then kicks one of the mangled chairs at him. Forge catches it, and then whips Watts at the ropes – TWISTED STEEL!! Rather than go for the pin, Forge grabs that chair and hooks the back of it around the neck of Watts before dropping a knee on top of it. Finally, he drops down atop the twisted and bloodied chain and the mangled chair and hooks the leg. Watts can barely move but he gets the shoulder up a split second too late and we have a new hardcore champion!!
WINNER AND NEW HARDCORE CHAMPION: FORGE MITCHELL
Mitchell scoops up Watts, only to be on the receiving end of a chain-loaded punch. He staggers back and Watts grabs him, looking for a full nelson bulldog – DENIED! Forge battles back, wrapping the chain around his hand and using that tension to drag Watts in close before a throat thrust steals his air and he throws Watts back-first through the table in the corner. A mudhole stomping ensues and then Watts gets hold of Forge's foot and pulls him off balance. The two crash into the busted remains of the door and come out with the chain wrapped around Forge's neck. For a moment it looks like Watts is going to try and choke him out but Forge nails a wild strike to the face, looking for a moment as though he may have broken the champ's nose. Both men are busted open, already battered and bloody and the match has barely gotten started yet. Forge slides out of the ring, pulling on the chain until Watts is forced to join him on the floor. They're brawling at ringside and Forge smashes the face of Watts off the apron. The champ leans heavy against the ring, breathing hard through his mouth and Mitchell charges in, looking for a crossbody block – HOLY SHIT! Watts catches him midair, slamming him to the floor with a front flip powerbomb. The chain is back around Forge's neck and Watts uses it to haul him back up before sending him crashing right through the barrier. Forge sprawls in the chairs in the first few rows as fans scatter. Instead of punishing him further, Watts uses the chain to drag Forge back towards the ring before hopping over the top rope. He hauls Forge off his feet, choking him with the collar before Mitchell gets his hands around the middle rope and uses it to flip himself over the top rope. He collapses at the feet of the champion and Watts grins, playing to the crowd for a moment. He lets Forge make his way to his feet, watching with amusement as Mitchell shakes his head as though clearing away the cobwebs. Watts charges in but Mitchell uses the chain as he drops down and pulls the champ off balance. He slips around behind and wraps the chain around the neck of Watts, locking in a standing dragon sleeper. The crowd is going insane, unsure who to cheer for during this utter carnage.
Watts wraps the chain around his fist and drills it into the face of Mitchell, getting the break he needs. He drops to one knee as Mitchell staggers back. Watts backs up to the ropes, and sends Mitchell to the canvas with a running clothesline. He springs off the second rope, looking for an elbow drop but he gets blasted with a steel chair instead. He falls back and Forge sets the chair up in the corner, between the top and the middle ropes. He grabs Watts and pulls him up, throwing him headfirst into the corner and the chair. Dropping for the first actual pinfall attempt of the match, Forge hooks the leg – NOPE! Watts kicks out at 2.5 and the match is still going!! Back on their feet, Watts tries to mount a fresh offense, firing on all cylinders as he drives back against the ropes with a series of alternating punches and chops. Forge looks like he's taking the worst of the damage before he hooks the back of one of those chairs with his foot and kicks it up to his hand, getting it up just as Watts throws a huge haymaker. Mitchell locks his hands around Watts's waist and tosses him to the middle of the ring like a sack of dirty laundry with a hard Beel throw. He scrambles to the top rope, and waits for Watts to rise, which he does rather quickly. Mitchell springs, looking for a move that never quite happens as Watts straightens up and throws the chair right at him. Mitchell catches the chair, tosses it aside and actually manages to land solidly behind Watts – he loops the chain around the champ's neck and takes him down with a thunderous DDT! Forge pulls him back up but Watts fires a wild elbow and then whips Mitchell to the ropes. He follows him up with a high leg lariat sending both men tumbling down over the top rope and onto the floor below. The crowd begins to roar as both men make their way to their feet and begin trading fists. Mitchell gets the upper hand as he backs Watts up to the guardrail with a series of right hands followed by a big clothesline, sending Watts backward over the railing and into the crowd. Mitchell wastes no time in following him over as the action spills into the audience for a second time.
Mitchell lifts Watts to his feet and rocks him with a hard right, sending him stumbling backward and into the barrier again. Forge takes a few steps back and delivers a standing dropkick to Watts sending him reeling backward to the floor. The crowd is in shock now as Mitchell hops up on the barrier and does a chain-wrapped fist drop on the floor. Both men are in a world of hurt but Forge staggers up first and he grabs Watts by the back of his head and tries to toss him face first into the unforgiving steel – NO! Watts gets an elbow into Mitchell's ribs and another, backing him up and they're against the tables that were going to be used to sell merch after the show. Watts scoops Forge up and throws him, sending him crashing through the plywood, the chain unfortunately pulling him right into the mess as well. There's broken wood and twisted metal everywhere and then Forge staggers up, followed closely by Watts. They're both throwing punches and elbows, blood flying every which way before they're back and ringside. Forge twists the chain around his arm, looking to keep Watts from creating too much space and he smashes that steel-laden forearm across the face of the champ. Watts sprawls on the apron and Forge gets up there with him, laying a few stomps in before he slides between the ropes, using the bottom rope and the chain to choke the champion. Both men look like they're knocking on death's door. When it looks like Watts is about to pass out, Forge relents and lets go. Watts rolls over, gasping for air through his mouth since it's clear now that his nose is definitely broken. Forge looks for a knee drop but Watts moves at the last possible second and instead Forge smashes down on the broken piece of that door from earlier. He rolls aside and Watts tries to get him into a figure four, punishing that knee – too close to the ropes and the break is immediate. The crowd groans as both men stagger back up. Watts wants to finish this thing and he whips the chain into the chest of Forge as he's rising and then kicks one of the mangled chairs at him. Forge catches it, and then whips Watts at the ropes – TWISTED STEEL!! Rather than go for the pin, Forge grabs that chair and hooks the back of it around the neck of Watts before dropping a knee on top of it. Finally, he drops down atop the twisted and bloodied chain and the mangled chair and hooks the leg. Watts can barely move but he gets the shoulder up a split second too late and we have a new hardcore champion!!
WINNER AND NEW HARDCORE CHAMPION: FORGE MITCHELL