Pellegrini Residence New Orleans, LA Saturday, August 28th, 2021 OFF-Camera
It had been a few days since the feast at the house. Yesterday, her parents flew back to New York ahead of Ida. The house felt emptier, quieter. Wendy “Zombie” Pellegrini was sitting in her swing on the front porch when a conversion van pulled up in front of the house. Zombie gets up and heads to the street as two tattooed women step out. The one in the passenger side was a dirty blonde, pierced and tatted that Zombie knew as Shieldmaiden Prospect Zoya “Drago” Dragojević. The driver was a thicker taller brunette, her MANEATER tattoo barely covered by the crop top she was wearing.
Wendy: “Well, sonofabitch. Charlie Jennings in the flesh. You made it earlier than expected. And I see you’ve already started making friends.”
Charlie: “Well, yeah. Yous need help, and don’t say you don’t because I already spoke to Lexa. Plus, I needed to meet Zoya here. So, here we are. What do you need done?”
Wendy: “Honestly, there isn’t much left. I wanted to get all the loose stuff in the yard into the garage. I don’t want shit flying and breaking a window, especially when we’re heading to Vegas next weekend.”
Zoya: “I help too?”
Wendy: “If you want.”
As the three are grabbing what they need to, Wendy opens the garage and starts taking things from the others and finding room inside. Wendy pulls Charlie back as Zoya is off stacking lawn chairs.
Wendy: “You trust me, right?”
Charlie: “Of course.”
Wendy: “Good, I’m going to need you after next week. Just… just remember things aren’t always how they seem, ok?”
Charlie furrows her brow and leans in a bit, whispering.
Charlie: “Everything alright?”
Wendy: “Oh yeah, for sure. Don’t worry about it.”
Zoya comes back carrying the stack of chairs, Charlie rubs Zoya’s shoulder before going back for the table. As everything is loaded in the garage, Wendy tosses bottles of water to everyone.
Wendy: “Thanks, guys. Where yall headed after here?”
Charlie: “Gonna explore the city. Zoya hasn’t been here long, I’ve only been here since like midnight, so we’ll likely get lost, need to use our maps to find our way back. If Bullet calls, then we’ll head to the Compound which I know where THAT is and help out there. Hoping to meet Bandit and Psycho I think she mentioned to either bounce at the Bras d;Or or the Barn. So we’ll see what happens. I want to earn my keep here and yous been good to me.”
Lexa steps out and looks around the yard before looking up at the sky, and sighing.
Lexa: “Hi Charlie, hello… Zoya, right.”
Lexa: “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for helping out, and remember what I told yous earlier, Charlie. Wes good.”
Wendy and Zoya look at the two others, slightly confused, before nodding. Zoya tugs at Charlie’s top from the back before wedging herself under her arm.
Zoya: “I show you my favorite spot. Canal Lighthouse. I like the view there. You will too.”
Charlie: “Alright guys, be safe. If you need anything, call me.”
Wendy: “Keep your cell handy. We could evac at any time. If you end up sticking around, you’ll learn one thing from Bullet quickly. She doesn’t take chances when it comes to our safety. If it’s go time, you go. Don’t hesitate.”
Somewhere in the Nevada Desert August 31st, 2021 3:46am ON-Camera
An old abandoned shack can be seen from the fire pit nearby. In the distance, a coyote howls. The few tufts of dried grass rustle in the wind as a lone biker rides in. Long dark hair whips behind her before the bike stops beside the shack. She takes off the gas mask and hooks it to the handlebars. She removes the riot gear vest and lays it on the seat before walking towards the fire and sitting down before it. The leather biker kutte reads Zombie on the name tag in gold lettering. Wendy “Zombie” Pellegrini reaches into an inner pocket and pulls out what appears to be a small stack of playing cards.
“Las Vegas was and is a hard town that will make you pay for your inability to restrain your desires. If you have a weakness, Las Vegas will punish you.
I read that quote the other day and I realized how true it was. Maybe not the way the original author thought it would be, but it does make for some accurate foreshadowing this Sunday at Game Over.
You see, six of us enter a caged structure, the Penitentiary, and only one walks out the winner. Some of the people in this match deserve to be in an actual penitentiary. Only one of us can say they trained in one, but that was another life. A life that’s none of your business. I guarantee SOMEBODY is going to say that they’re not locked in with us, we’re locked in with them. Save your breath, because nobody will buy it. I don’t buy it.
Everybody has a stake in this match. Everybody believes they will go through the competition and get the match they are owed, and it’s so pedestrian. It’s cliche, so just stop. If you want to survive in the Penitentiary, you have to pull your big-boy pants up and throw hands quicker and harder than whoever stands in your way. If you’re not about that, get out now because you won’t survive the environment.”
Zombie starts shuffling the short stack of cards in her hands, not watching the new order they are stacked. She flips over the first card and holds it up to the camera, and we see a Jack of Spades with a picture of Mark Wright’s face on it.
“Mark Wright, the Mad Dog.
The man holding the title that I made relevant once upon a time. A time when I was feared. A time when they saw my name on the booking sheet and made every weaker opponent shit themself. People will be quick to say that this season has not gone my way until recently. I had to sit at home during Spectacular and watch as they put me and my sisters in the Hall of Fame. My face, broken.
I will hand it to you, Mark. When I said I was coming back and aiming for the Throwdown Title again, you didn’t hesitate. You were willing to fight me and I will give you props for that. Out of everyone in this match, you have my respect. I have no need to throw barbs or throw you under the bus, because when it comes down to it, I know if you and I cross paths in the Penitentiary, it won’t be anything but professional rivalry. A desire to win, and I can appreciate that.
However, you have to understand, Mark, that my desire to win will trump yours. I’ve seen champions enter matches like these, and in the back of their mind, there’s that little voice that tells them they have nothing to lose because they will enter and exit that match and still be a champion. I cannot speak for you specifically, I am only speaking from my own experience, from what I have seen for myself. I have wrongs to right. I cannot walk into this match and lay down for anyone, nor allow anyone to beat me because I’ve already been beat down enough. So I am banking on you being complacent, if only for a minute. Just long enough to give you a wake-up call and a quick exit out of the Pen.”
Zombie throws the card into the fire and shuffles the remaining cards, before holding up a joker. Zombie smirks.
“The wild card. The mystery opponent. Who can it be?
For all we know, Robert Mack will re-hire the Living RealDoll Stephanie Sullivan. Hell, I even heard rumor that it could be the OG Boss of the Shieldmaidens, Valkyrie. Mack might even go into the AMMO roster and decide to throw Ripley into the match, but that’s a long shot.
Thing is, whoever it is, coming in as a surprise entrant? What a cowardly way to be. Do you think this suspense, this mystery, is going to make people want to care about you? Do you think it’s supposed to throw the rest of us in the cage off because we can’t prepare for you? Whoever you are, I really don’t give a fuck.
This is Mile High Wrestling, where the best come to fight. If you can’t allow yourself to face your opposition head-on, then you don’t fucking belong here. Grow a spine, step out of the shadows, and show the world, show your adversaries, who you are. I’m not going to spend any more time on you. Your silence, your needing to hide, just that alone you ain’t worth shit. Don’t even bother coming into the company. Turn around, walk away, and keep your identity the secret it already is so you can save whatever dignity you think you had.”
Zombie looks at the camera with disgust as she throws the joker into the fire. With no shuffling this time, she holds up the next card. The Ace of Spades with Gabriel Ohio’s face on it. Zombie slowly shakes her head as she grunts.
“Gabriel Ohio. Long time no see Casper.
December 9th, 2019, do you recall that date? I do. If you look closely enough, you can still see the burn marks. They healed on the surface, but inside? They’re still raw, they still burn, but let us reminisce, shall we? I was ThrowDown Champion, you chose my title from winning the Rise of the Phoenix tournament. The world pissed and moaned that I was still defending it after losing by nefarious means to Ricky Stanton. You and I fought all over the Cajundome that night, neither one of us being able to do enough to keep the other down in that Last Fucker Standing match until you ran away.
I was down in the ring and YOU RAN to the back, knowing what was coming. You rigged the ring to set me ablaze. You yourself could not keep me down, so you took a shortcut. A near-DEADLY shortcut. You weren’t out to beat me that night, Gabriel, you were out to kill me. And what’s changed, hmm? Are you still that scared little boy? Are you sad because you could never take Sam away from it all?
You beat Skrabz recently, that ain’t easy, but Skrabz doesn’t hunt. He doesn’t have scars of fire on his skin and on his psyche, but I do. I’m sure you will be his first target, return the favor and get his win back when it matters most, but Skrabz doesn’t hunt. I… hunt, therefore I am.
I have never forgotten, nor have I forgiven you. Between you and I, it is personal, and yet I am not angry. I am not foolish. I will not give you what you feed off of, nor will I redeem you. I will dispose of you, that’s a definite, but you will forever be who you’re cursed to be. A monster. Problem is, Ohio, this time? You’re small. Insignificant. A shell of a shell who has had just enough moments to blind yourself to the truth. We all see it, though. I see it, and it makes me smile because I do not fear you anymore. Without that fear, you are nothing. And in the Penitentiary, you can’t run. You’ll have no friends, no allies, but you’re used to that, aren’t you? Of course you are, you’ve been alone since Daddy abandoned you. Begone, Gabriel.”
Zombie doesn’t even bother tossing the card into the fire, instead, she tears it up and tosses the bits of card into the air, allowing the pieces to fall where they will. She holds up the last card, the King of Diamonds with a picture of Skrabz on the card.
“Man Like Skrabz, it’s been a minute, hasn’t it?
My second-ever match in Mile High, and it was you and I in that ring. I’m going to say something I haven’t said in two years, and that is you were right. I shouldn’t be here trying to play anyone else’s game, you should be out here acknowledging mine. I went back and watched that promo, went back through my logs and looked at how I prepared for that match and, I have to be honest, I didn’t like what I saw. The match, despite losing to you, did open my eyes so, again, you were right.
I made the same mistake as practically every other opponent you have faced has done. They tried to outdo you by being you. They mock the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, but they don’t listen to what you say. Maybe some of them have and still came up short, but many haven’t. And if they did, they’d hear what’s said and what isn’t said. Nobody hears WHY you’re considered the best that Mile High has ever seen, because it isn’t just about the match. It isn’t just about what’s at stake. You aren’t out there burying anybody. You want success for them all, but just enough for yourself to get success over them.
Two years ago, I hated your guts. Today, I see you for who you really are, and I acknowledge you. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a receipt to give you. Everyone says they have to beat you, and a few have. Two of those three are in this very match, so I know you’re going to be focused, maybe even more than you have been before. And you should be. The match you feel you are owed, and the facts check out, is one match away. So many variables can keep you from doing what you know will be necessary. Ohio can shock the world one more time and eliminate you. Mad Dog, who’s been gnawing at the fence wanting a piece of you… could eliminate you.
But again, that quote I started with rings true. Las Vegas was and is a hard town that will make you pay for your inability to restrain your desires. Ohio doesn’t have restraint. Mad Dog doesn’t have restraint. I will have waited one hundred and thirteen weeks, so my restraint is solid. That time allowed me the ability to learn, reflect, and adapt. You’ve never had to do the same because for you, this has been easy. A couple threatened to topple you despite the ones who have, and one of those threats were me. I am not the same Zombie you faced all those weeks ago.
This ain’t no 8 Mile, Skrabz. This is Sin Fucking City. No fronting, and no backing down either. This time, I’m not afraid. This time, I’ve watched you, studied you. Took you apart in my mind’s eye to see your weaknesses, many more than people realize. I see you, Boy, and you’ll be seeing me standing with my arm raised.”
Wendy tosses the Skrabz card in the fire, before standing up, her arms outstretched, her hands open and empty.
“If you’ve been waiting for an ace up my sleeve, I… am that ace, but you wouldn’t know that, would you Ale? Of course you wouldn’t because my last name isn’t Carter or Carbajal.
As lit up as you’ve been lately, your mind and your time have been so wrapped up on this Tori case that you’re slipping, sis. The Great Motivator hasn’t been able to stand on her soapbox, and hasn't been able to rally her troops. The outlaws got weighed down by the in-laws.
Look around you, Bullet, and answer this question honestly. How many Shieldmaidens are still standing beside you, huh? Came in like a house afire and ended up just like Mount Diablo. Empty and charred. Your girlfriend couldn’t keep Killer under control and they coughed up the Tag Titles to the fucking Riot Squad. The idiots who are only a school grade’s intelligence higher than Mosh and Baudelaire, and they lost to them? That’s on you as the leader.
You ran your road captain, Bruiser, into the ground by leaving her to her own devices, and where is she now? Out a championship, and out of Mile High. That’s on you as the leader.
Titaness fucking ghosted you and you don’t even realize she’s gone. That’s on you as the leader.
And you never gave a fuck about Harry and I. Do I really need to say it again, or have I drilled my point into your fucking skull yet?
When I was down with my face all fucked up, where were you? Waiting for me to call? I HAD NO FUCKING VOICE! The ONLY people that stood by me while I healed, while I rehabbed, were Lexa. Harry. Banshee. Krigare. And Una, who was to only be an employee, a manager. Instead she became one of my best friends, and why? Because nobody else stepped up. No calls, no texts, no visits. The leader… failed to lead.
You ran the Prospects ragged setting up for your little match at the Compound. Nobody reached out to congratulate me when WE became Hall of Famers. There was a time where we were thick as thieves, now our friendship, our kinship, is as thin as your skin when it comes to your fucking leadership.
You made chicken salad out of chicken shit when you had to take over for Robi, but you’ve been eating crow ever since. So, you know what I want, Alejandra? I want you and I to be the final two in the Pen. No Ohio, no Skrabz, no Mad Dog, no cowardly fuck. Just you, and me, and a padlock on the door. And I want everyone’s eyes on us because I don’t just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want to be acknowledged as the one who stopped the Bullet. I want to leave you the same way you left me.
Game. Fucking. Over.”
Wendy takes off her kutte and holds it up over the fire pit, before dropping it into the fire. We can see the Zombie patch curling and charring as it separates from the leather, before thick plumes of smoke fill the screen.
The sound of Mad Dog spitting tobacco is heard, as Mad Dog stands in front of the Harts Community Center in Harts, WV. A cool breeze of West Virginia mountain air blows through the humid hollow as Mad Dog adjusts his trucker hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. Mad Dog is being filmed for a special on WVPBS TV by a local film crew doing a profile on him and his upcoming Penitentiary match at Game Over.
Harts, like many southern WV communities, is a small and poor town that has died along with the coal industry. With a median income of less than $22,000 a year, life in Harts isn’t easy, the men are rowdy and the crowds are tough. This is part of the area where Mad Dog cut his teeth and was molded into the man that he is today.
I saw the light in the sunrise Sittin' back in a 40 on the muddy riverside Gettin' baptized in holy water and 'shine With the dogs runnin' Saved by the sound of the been found Dixie whistled in the wind, that'll get you Heaven bound The Devil went down to Georgia but he didn't stick around This is God's country
This is where it all started, the place where I had my first match. I was seventeen years old…huh, hard to think, half my life ago. Hard to believe I’ve spent half my life in the ring, and that it all started right here. I tell you what, I got my ass whipped that night. I thought I was so tough; I was seventeen and full of piss and vinegar. I stepped into the ring as a wrestler after spending my entire life around the sport, selling concessions, setting up the ring, and refereeing, and now it was time to finally show off my rasslen skills.
Man, I thought I was hot stuff, double A state champion wrestler, quarterback on the football team, young, dumb, and full of… well you know the saying. I tell ya what though, I had what they call a "come to Jesus meeting" that night. My pappy knew I thought I was the man and that I thought I knew it all, so he put me in the ring with the Latin Assassin. Old Hector worked with my Pappy and had been wrestling longer than I had been alive, and he tied me up in knots and kicked the snot out of me. I learned a lot that night, a whole lot.
Mad Dog and the camera focus on the small, unlit marquee that reads "Mountain State Wrestling Sept 11th". This is Mad Dogs' fathers event, one that will draw the MSW loyal out of the hollows and have them spending their last dimes they didn't spend at Walmart or on Labor Day sales.
Mad Dog spits his tobacco juice out again and speaks without taking his eyes off the marquee.
Funny, how I've spent half my life in the ring, and at thirty-five I still get nervous before heading to the ring. Nerves of fear, not fear of bodily harm, but failure and disappointment. Wrestling, shine, and coal are the only businesses my family has ever known, and when I lose, they lose, and when I lose, I disappoint all the people of the Appalachians that have grown up watching and supporting my family. Wanting to win that number one contender’s match against El D wasn't for me, it was for my family and my people of these mountains. Life here is hard, always has been and probably always will be, and I just wanted to bring some joy to these people's lives. See, when one of us wins, we all win.
That Monday that I returned to my home from losing to El D, I was expecting to be met with disappointed looks, and people telling me I let them down. But what I returned to were words of encouragement. Strangers would come up to me and say, “you’ll get um next time”, “you’re my champ big dog”, and I even had an old lady come up to me at the Family Dollar when I was buying toilet paper and say, “your granddad would be so proud of you”. That’s my people, that’s who made me the man I am today, and that’s who’s driving me to become champion.
See, a man like Skrabz, and no I ain’t making a pun when I say that. A man like Skrabz wants to be the Ultimate champion just because he wants to be the Ultimate champion. Shoot, Skrabz you are one of only three Ultimate champions ever, the longest reigning, and you never got beat for that championship, so I can understand why you want that championship back so bad, you feel that it is yours, that it was stolen from you. I can see that and even empathize with that. But you lost all my respect and empathy when ya threw that cheap shot at me and El D. Now, you’re on my shitlist.
I could go on and on about the differences between Skrabz and me, but there is only one difference that matters when it comes to this Penitentiary match and becoming the number one contender, and that is what we are fighting for. Skrabz, you are fighting for yourself and you want to be champion for yourself. You think you’re the best, and shoot ya got a valid claim to that. That Ultimate Championship is your stamp of validation. You’re fighting for pride, and the good book says that pride cometh before the fall.
And me, old Mad Dog, yeah he’s fighting for himself and validation, but I’m also fighting for much more than that. I’m fighting for my family. Fighting to give my wife and children a better life, fighting to elevate the Wright family name in this sport we’ve spent three generations in. I’m fighting for every hillbilly that has ever been told they are nothing but a useless redneck, to get back to their grunt work. I’m fighting to show the world that a dumb old hillbilly can be more than just a coal miner or a grunt laborer.
I come from the drug overdose capital of the world, West BY GOD Virginia, and I’m fighting to show the people of my state that if you keep on working, keep on pushing, and don’t stop believing, that you can achieve anything you set your mind too. Now, I don’t know about y’all but I believe that is a hell of a lot more than Skrabz, Gabriel Ohio, Bullet, or anyone else in this here match is fighting for.
I’m fighten this fight alone, but I got the Dog Pound and the whole dang Mountain State behind me. I know that if I slip and fall they are going to be there to catch me, but they ain’t gotta worry about that. I got too many people counten on old Mad Dog to let um down. Na, they ain’t gonna have to hold me up when I get knocked down, cause I’m gonna get back up no matter what anyone in this match or the structure of this match throws at me. The only thing these people are gonna have to worry about lifting is lifting old Mad Dog on their shoulders to celebrate my dub.
Mad Dog gives a half-grin followed by another spit of tobacco juice as the scene fades out to a commercial break. When it fades back in, the shot is now of Sunny Jim. Sunny sits in front of a black backdrop and wears a salmon-colored jacket, with a black shirt and salmon bowtie.
"Do you think Mad Dog can win this Penitentiary match at Game Over?" a producer asks off-screen.
Sunny is dumbstruck by that question and pauses for a moment before answering.
What kind of idiotic question is that? Do you think I'd be here right now talking to you guys if I was worried about Mad Dog losing? This is worse gotcha journalism than CNN. The truth is I am fully confident in Mad Dog coming away with a win in this barbaric structure known as a penitentiary match. I am also fully confident that this match is my doing. I know I said some things when Mad Dog faced Psycho over and over again that could be considered inflammatory, and I know that those comments left a bad taste in the mouth of the Maidens. I’m sure Bullet and Zombie have their panties all in bunches over the comments and are just waiting for me to say something they can slap a defamation lawsuit on.
Well, here goes. First and foremost, those names are so dumb. Zombie and a Bullet, how about Mad Dog does the whole world a favor just puts one through the others head and ends them both?
Wendy, you muscle-bound freak, you have gone and beefed up from what I saw of you in season two of Mile High. Well, here’s some free advice that I’m sure you are too stupid to take, you better lay off that HGH, before your innie becomes an outie. You’re going to end up like that old girl from "One Night in Chyna" if you stay on those performance enhancers. Besides all the human growth hormones and steroids in Russia aren’t going to help you against Mad Dog. No matter how big you get Wendy it won’t help you win this match, because it isn’t the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog, and no one in this match has more fight in them than Mad Dog Mark Wright.
I'm sorry if what I say offends anyone, but I speak the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts. Just like the truth that the Maidens leadership is as lacking as our country’s leadership right now. To be fair to Bullet, Joe Biden did ruin things much faster when he took over than Bullet did when she took over. Oh wait, am I getting too edgy for you all? Too real for you all? I know I probably can’t even talk about this stuff on this station, or any social media platform, or I’ll be at risk of being canceled.
Well, that’s fine because at Game Over Mad Dog is going to cancel any hopes or dreams that Bullet, Zombie, Skrabz, Ohio, or mystery man, woman, or whatever stupid pronoun we are supposed to use today, have of becoming the number one contender.
The scene fades to commercial once more, and when it fades back Mad Dog is standing in front of an abandoned single-wide trailer. All of the windows have been broken, some just cracked, but most are completely shattered. The underpinning is torn away, the paint has faded, and the grass is nearly knee-high to Mad Dog.
Mad Dog stands in the front yard staring at the old run-down house that was his childhood home. Mad Dog spits his chew of Levi Garret tobacco out and wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
I always dreamed about making it out of here, about becoming a big-time star, traveling the country and the world, and do you know where I ended up? About five miles down the hollow from here. Do you know why? I was scared.
Scared to fully commit, scared to give all I had to the sport of professional wrestling. Scared of failure, scared of letting my family down, scared to try. Well, screw fear. Fear is a liar, sent to kill and steal your dreams. For years I spent my life half in and half out, my days at the mines and my nights in the ring at small shows. Then one day I had a wake-up call and realized that isn't the life I want and that I wanted more, and that I could have more. I just had to stop being a scared little b*tch and lay it all on the line.
Mad Dog walks up a set of cement blocks constructed into steps to the front door of the trailer. Mad Dog gives the door a hard shoulder and the rotten wood breaks away. There is nothing inside the trailer but filth, trash, and memories. Mad Dog stands in what used to be the living room.
Ya know, I was so poor growing up that if I wasn't born a boy, I wouldn't have had anything to play with. I was scared of my kids going through that, so I stayed at the mines, and I cooked the shine. But, is having the new Jordan’s worth giving up your dreams for? Better yet, how about when your dreams provide those new Jordan’s? What about when it provides an escape from the hollow, or provides an escape from poverty and breaking your back and working yourself into an early grave?
Don’t y’all go and get it twisted, I ain't in rasslen for the money. But I do know that rasslen can provide a better life for me and mine. I got a lot of respect for everyone in this match, shoot even that piece of trash backstabber Skrabz. I respect what you all have done here in Mile High and everywhere else ya been. But, I love my kids a whole hell of a lot more than I respect you all, and I'm not about to see them grow up in this same dead and opioid-addicted town that I did.
Respect be damned, I gotta beat all y’all and get what I let slip away against El D. I made Mile High take notice of me in just a short amount of time, and I gotta keep that rolling. I need this win, I need to become the number one contender so Mad Dog can get in line for the big gold and the big paychecks. This ain’t just another match to me like it might be for some of the others stepping into the penitentiary, na, for me it’s a stepping stone to a bigger career. It's presents under the Christmas tree, it's a summer vacation to Myrtle Beach, it's a better life for my family and a way out of this dead hollow, and this dead state.
Mad Dog walks to the area where the kitchen meets the living room, and there is a support beam with lines on it, clearly measurements of children's height. Mad Dog rubs the dust away from the wood and looks at the marks on the beam. He smiles as he reads the names "Mark, Ruth, and Daniel".
It's all about family. In the end, family is all we have; they are our legacy. I’m out to cement my legacy here in Mile High, and I know that winning this penitentiary match is going to go a long way in doing that. I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in life that is worth having ever comes easy.
I learned a long time ago that if you’re big star bound it’s a long hard ride. Well, everyone should know that old Mad Dog is in this for the long haul. I came here to become a champion, and while I am the Throw Down champion, I’m not satisfied with that. Good isn’t good enough, I want that Ultimate championship, I want everyone to know that Mad Dog is the best. Game Over is going to get me back on the right track to claim that championship and moniker. I stumbled last time I had a shot to get there, but I know the big man upstairs has a plan that is even greater for me than I could ever imagine, and this penitentiary match is another phase in that plan.
Mad Dog rubs the names of his family on the beam and smiles.
There’s a lot of tough competition in this match, and I know I’m going to have to give the performance of my life to win it, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. Like old Jerry Springer, I got a few final thoughts for everyone in this match. Let me start right at the top of the mountain. The man that is the face of Mile High, the dag-on franchise of Meh Hach Dub, Skrabz. Skrabz, you're the boogeyman of Mile High, but ya big head ass already knows that don't ya?
When I first came to Mile High, I heard everyone from Eavan to Leah talking about how if Skrabz was here they'd kick his ass. Then Skrabz showed up and his name ain't come out their mouth again. Skrabz, you went from the guy everyone said they could beat to "he who shall not be named" like you were Voldemort or something.
Yeah, I watched the movies. I watched Harry Potter and my boy watched Rocky, a little trade-off there, sometimes you gotta compromise as a parent. But as a man, I ain't never compromised my word. I ain't jump on the train back then and say if you were here I'd beat. Na, everyone was riding that train like the easy girl at the bar. The truth is, I didn't know if I could beat ya or not, cause the fact is I was still finding myself as a full-time pro, and round here you the man. I ain't afraid or ashamed to admit it. Skrabz, you're the Babe Ruth of Mile High, but baby old Mad Dog is the Hank Aaron to ya Babe Ruth.
The Tom Brady to your Joe Montana, the Tyson to your Ali, the Kobe to your Jordan, the Garth Brooks to your George Strait, the Trump to your Reagan. If you ain't picken up what I'm laying down, it's this simple, Skrabz, you were the man here in Mile High, the standard-bearer, the measuring stick, the man, whatever dag-on analogy for the best ya wanna throw out there, it was you. But now, it's time for old Mad Dog to become the best.
And I know there is an old saying that to be the man, you gotta beat the man. Well, that is just one of the reasons I'm gonna beat you Skrabz, cause it's time I show I'm the man round here now. I might have dropped an L to El D, but truth be told I was sleeping on him. That was my mistake, and I’ve learn from that mistake.
Kinda like you learned that when ya cheap shot the Dog, I don't let that go. I'm like a pitbull, I'm gonna get ya neck and I don't let go until ya stop moving. Ya done learned what it is to go the Wright Way, and now it's time for ya to go mad.
Mad Dog turns from the beam, pulling his hat off and wiping the sweat from his brow as the old house is quite stuffy in the humid mountain climates.
Next, we got Gabriel Buckeye, the other boogeyman of Mile High, I gotta admit you got me, worried boy. Yep, got me worried that ya pale ass is vitamin D deficient. Shoot fire boy, I'm married to a redhead and she ain't nearly as pale as you. Dang, you more than pale, brother you opaque. I know you're trying to put off this spooky vibe but brother you ain't gotta look like a ghost.
I know, you're trying everything you can to be scary, and I reckon you think cause ya done took down Skrabz that makes you scary. Yeah, you might have done what only a few other people round here might have done when ya beat Skrabz, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. You might be the man that beat Skrabz, but you're also the man that got knocked out cold by old Psycho. The same Pyscho I done beat like a drum all over Mile High. Na, Buckeye you ain't gonna be remembered as the man that beat Skrabz, you will forever and always be remembered as the giant that got dropped with a kick from a woman half ya size.
You can post all your creepy, creepy, spooky, spooky videos on the web and all your best cryptic messages, and ya might even scare a few people with um, but straight up, you ain't nothen but a big old b*tch to me. You try so hard to be spooky, like you Freddy Kruger or Jason Vorhees, but to me, you're just some reject from a crappy teenage drama from the CW channel. You ain't Bram Stoker's Dracula, you an old sparkly Twilight ass Vamp.
You might be ridden a wave of momentum from beaten Skrabz and Stephanie Sullivan, but as old Shania Twain said, that don't impress me much. You're a big old boy, but brother I'ma bring my ax with me and chop ya ass down like a big old Oak Tree. Then when I got ya lurch looking butt down, I'm gonna climb to the top of whatever the heck it is the Mack's got us in, and I'm gonna drop my old cinder block hard head-on ya and make ya spooky ass Go Mad.
Speaking of creepy creepy, spooky spooky, M. Knight Shamalama-ding-dong characters, we got old Zombie in the mix too. But, you aren’t exactly the Zombie of old are ya? Na, you ain’t the same killer you was last time you were here, but ya still dangerous, and you’re headed back to the old you. The thing is it doesn’t matter if it’s the new Zombie, the old Zombie, or the Zombie of Christmas past, you ain’t winning this girl, cause I ain’t gonna let ya.
You got the tools to win it, but you ain’t want this like I do. If I wasn’t here, you might be able to pull it out, but I am here and I am gonna win this thing. You have been on a roll lately, but so have I, so when or if we hook um up in the penitentiary it’ll be the old cliched unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. We might just cause a big bang and spring forth an evolution here in Mile High. Except evolution is a lie, we were created for a purpose by the grand weaver, and old Mad Dogs' purpose is to be the Ultimate champion.
Mad Dog moves down the short hallway of the trailer and stops in the doorway of the room at the end of the trailer. This was his room, the room he shared with his brother until Daniel left for basic training. Mad Dog looks around the room and can’t help but give a little laugh as the memories flood back.
Ya know, when I stop and look around, I’ve come pretty far, but I’ve still got a long way to go. To get to where I’m heading I’m going to have to go through the leader of the Shieldmaidens, Bullet. Ya know, I ain’t heard nobody talken about how Bullet could win this thing, but I know she sure is gonna do her dead level best to win it, and her dead level best is pretty darn good. The problem for you Bullet is that your best just ain’t gonna cut it against old Mad Dog.
I ain’t saying you aren’t good enough, cause that’d be a lie. Shoot, you are one of the pillars of Mile High, and honestly, I think you’d be one of the faces of the Mile High Mount Rushmore. You and Skrabz both would have your mugs up there carved in rock, the other two faces are debatable, but really it don’t matter who it is. Cause old Mad Dog is coming along with a truckload of dynamite to blow you, Skrabz, and the whole mountain up. Cause it’s time that some new faces are carved out for Mile High Wrestling. Now I might have an ugly old mug, but baby old Mad Dog is one of the new faces of Mile High.
Mad Dog steps further into the room and stars out of the hole where a window used to be. His view is of an overgrown field, but his thoughts are of playing there as a child.
As for this mystery person, the only thing I got for you is that meme of that Hobbit, ya know where it says, all right then keep your secrets. Go on and keep um, cause it don’t matter who you are. It can be some old name from Mile High, a Candi Britton, a Janson Myrrh, a Reaper or Forge, whichever name he wants to go by. Or, it could be some new face who made a name for themselves somewhere else and now is looking to come to Mile High to pad their resume.
It doesn’t matter who it is, cause the results are gonna be the same for this mystery person that they are for everyone else in this match, they are going to go the Wright Way or they are going to Go Mad.
Mad Dog turns to face the camera with a confident smile as the scene fades out.
Post by Gabriel Ohio on Sept 4, 2021 0:47:07 GMT -6
The flicker of a light bulb. With each flicker the room is illuminated. Ohio paces. The light manages to stay illuminated for longer. Ohio’s facial injuries ooze blood, puss and infection flicks at the nasal senses. Nauseating. His eyes. Black pits. No signs of irises. No whites of the eyes. Just. Blackness. His facial expression? Anger. Rage. What was that? That ...noise? Ohio stops. He turns and walks over to the furthest wall. An audible but muffled… cracking noise.. A large crack appears in the wall. The crack in the wall grows significantly bigger. The sinister Ohio allows himself to smile. The signature smile, that seems so much more dark, matched only with the sinister laugh that follows.
Darkness again. Only temporary. The light returns, only more potent, no sign of that singular faulty bulb. Somewhere...could be anywhere. His face does not bear the gore and infection. His scars are present. Ohio looks at his arm. His arm is shaking. He talks to himself.
“Just a little while longer...patience.”
~: The Games We Play...:~
Gabriel sits. His hands are stained brown. He sits at a potter's wheel. He works away at the clay. Shaping, sculpting and manipulating. The light focuses on the craft. The walls of the room are hidden by darkness. Gabriel’s face is that of concentration. Various angles showcase the piece as he is putting the final touches on the creation. He stands and walks over to a table. He puts the piece down next to five others. Busts of Mad Dog, Bullet, Zombie, Skrabz and one of himself, particular effort and emphasis on the scars that mark his face. He places them in a line. Gabriel stands behind the table. He speaks.
“Well well well. How quaint. Stephanie Sullivan actually showcased some amount of intelligence by her choice to walk away. She ultimately paid a heavy price although I am sure Mack will make sure she felt much better later that night. No matter. There be a bigger fight now.”
Gabriel points to the busts one by one.
“...Mad Dog.” Then next. “...Skrabz.” Another. “...Bullet.” That one. “...Oh look, it's me.” There. “... aaaand Zombie...”
There is a noticeable disdain in the voice of Ohio when saying Zombie but the other names were said with a childlike glee. Ohio leans forward and props his chin on his fist.
“We are all pawns in their little game. Caesar demands that we battle and use the toys they provide, the little scraps they give to starving dogs, you all yap yap yap like the mutts you are, craving that opportunity to hump your master’s leg. ...and we all dance to the beat of their drum. Unless… We choose...not to. I choose to play the game with my own rules. Speaking of mutts… Let us begin with you! Mad Dog Mark Wright.”
Ohio picks up the bust of Mad Dog. It is still wet and soft to the touch. Ohio studies the blank expression that Mad Dog poses with. The detailing of the craftsmanship is exquisite.
“You stare so blankly and yet your yap yap yap like a little puppy that wants to win his master’s affection. I question whether all your mental faculties are all in sync or whether you just lack the intelligence that a normal dog possesses. You had a shot at the number one contendership before and your dog collar was just a little too tight but it caused you to choke. Do you know what they do to dogs that are suffering? I will be happy to oblige.”
Ohio begins to resculpt the face of Mad Dog, incorporating a dog's snout and ears into the sculpt.
“You see, little pup, you are nothing more than a children’s character with a bark that is much worse than that bite. You can attempt to bare those teeth at me and we will see just how much bite you have when your teeth decorate the walls and floors of the penitentiary. Old Yeller was offered a quick death behind the woodshed, you? I will show you just how Cruella...cruel I can be. Throwdown Champion or not, even a chicken can get airtime if someone throws it hard enough.”
Ohio cushes the sculpt in his hand. His expression is stoic and cold. He picks up the arrogant sculpt of Skrabz.
“I will address you now and even that will irritate you as you are not being respected with being addressed last. Poor poor lost little boy. You must've been dropped on your head one too many times from the top of a vehicle. It is truly pathetic to see how much of an attention seeker you are. Dropping the main eventers of a show like a spoilt child not sharing his toys. But. We cannot help but notice that you did nothing...nothing...NOTHING to try and make yourself feel like a man again and come after me, you know, the one who snatched away your spotlight. As predictable as you are, you are like a moth to a flame, or perhaps to a lightbulb, constantly burning yourself but still keep touching that light, until one day you touch a light and BZZZZT, Lights out, forever, zapped and it is gone. Just. Like. That.”
Ohio clicks his fingers and splats the sculpt flat with his other hand.
“You fail alone. You will die alone. No friends. No family. The whores you hire will soon vanish when your money dries up and your gang buddies will move on without a glance or a tear shed. All alone. And not a soul will care. Just another John Doe in an unmarked grave. Just another statistic.”
Ohio allows himself to smirk. He then picks up the sculpt of Bullet. He leans down on his elbow and studies it.
“We finally meet. Gabriel Ohio. You knew that already. It has been a long wait to get my hands on you. I have locked horns with many of your Shieldmaiden brethren but I never truly got a piece of the president. Now I can. One of two champions in this match up vying for more opportunities. There is a determination in you that is as strong as iron, such is your will. You see, I have subdued Psycho’s, I have beaten Bandit’s, I have scarred Zombie’s and I have tormented Titanesses but I have never bitten the proverbial Bullet...until now. It has been a long time coming. The scars your sisters carry, both physical and mental burden you now. You can extract a measure of revenge for them. An incentive is it not? Yet is it not curious that it all started with a kick heard around the world by one of your own. She caused a chain reaction, She triggered the bomb and all that pain and misery is the price she pays every single day. My actions did not even warrant any fight from Bruiser as she scuttled to Ammo shortly after I dangled her and Psycho’s child on a fishing line. Bait. Psycho bit, Bruiser fled. I broke Psycho’s Psyche. But this is not Storytime with Gabriel, you know the damage I did. Question is. What are you going to do about it? Are you a Hollow Point Bullet or are you nothing but a Blank Bullet? I will find out one way or the other come the end of this match. Just think long and hard, if I am willing to do all of that to your sisters to get to you, just imagine what I can and will do to you in the confines of the penitentiary. Blood will be spilled. It is inevitable. I intend to sever the head of the snake. I will break you and thus I can move on to more...intriguing...victims.”
Ohio resculpts Bullet into an actual bullet, a blank bullet, before tossing it away. Ohio’s face changes into a snarl and he stands tall and points…
“You. Wendy Zombie Pellegrini. It seems you just do not seem to learn lessons do you. Your partner ran her mouth and now you are running yours. Una really needs to tighten the leashes on you and Hairicin. Good Bitches. Listen to your master and she may let you out of the dog house or you could go and get mated to a Mad Dog, I am sure that might change the look on his face. Tell me what hurts you more, the burns or the fact you were gullible enough to think I ran away from you. Or maybe it was the fact you lost your gold to little me. Must have hurt badly as you left MHW shortly after that defeat. But why stop there? Let us delve a little deeper shall we, let us open up old wounds. How did it feel when I took Samantha, oh sweet Samantha from right under your noses and despite you being an ex cop you failed to find her. Or how about you failing to find out the necessary details one simple call to your old precinct would have told you just what Samantha was dealing with and what was being unleashed on Mile High. Let me tell you a story Wendy. DADDY didn’t leave me. DADDY did not abandon me WENDY. That fateful night he decided that he would drink the devil’s drink and beat his family. DADDY then decided in his drunken madness that it would be acceptable to teach my sister about being a woman. My sister was not even in double digits of age. I stood between them. I begged him to do to me what he was going to do to her instead. HE DID WENDY. HE DID.
And the worst part?
THE WORST PART WENDY??”
Gabriel’s rage is elevated and he walks over to the wall and starts headbutting it hard. Blood begins to appear on the wall. With each headbutt there is a flashback, the crack of the wall with demented Ohio laughing as it gets bigger. A Hole appears in the wall. He is free. Ohio’s voice gets more...deep.
“He did it to her anyway, Wendy. After he finished with me. Then he killed her. I later learned he had already stabbed mother. I found her holding my sister. I had the pleasure of sharing their last breaths in a pool of our blood mixing on that bed.”
Gabriel’s face remains hidden. His hand reaches over and grabs the scalpel. He lifts it to the side of his face and the hand movements suggest….well what words cannot describe.
“Wendy...he got away with it. He was arrested and charges dropped on a technicality. And here you are a product of that police station. Still fucking up. You seek revenge. Then you seek… Me. Trauma!”
He turns back into the light. His formally scarred face all opened up once more. His breathing heavy with the infamous rage.
“Congratulations Wendy. I am simply giddy to be free again. You promise me so many gifts! Is it Christmas time? I have been waiting for far too long. I hope your shoulders have broadened as you have so much weight to carry now. For if you do not keep those vows you preach then I will have no issues... HEHE... of inflicting each of the words that acid tongue of yours spat at me on those you hold dear. If you think burns are the worst thing I can do then you have a limited imagination. You will already be locked in a cage with me. You will have no more fake excuses when I feed your rotting carcass to the worms. No more imaginary running away. How do you slay a Zombie? Head Trauma and Trauma is my name and my Dominion. You don’t fear me? I do not want you to fear me. Makes it easier to...play with...if you do not run.”
Trauma Ohio laughs gleefully, He then sticks out his tongue, forked from a self inflicted body modification, looks oh so more sinister with the face wounds to accompany it. He stabs the Zombie bust through the head.
He picks up a faceless sculpt from under the table. Ohio crushes it in one hand while looking directly into the camera before allowing it to crumple through his fingers.
“Need I say more, faceless one?”
He walks over to the wall and plays with the blood staining it. Spelling out the word Trauma. “Caesar has provided me with a stage. An audience for which I will showcase my finest work. Game Over is the Stage. The Penitentiary Match, where the promise of title shots are the scraps you crave. Oh it will serve a purpose but nothing more than to bait the would be mice into the awaiting claws of the lion. I know the brass rings that dangle high above you and what they symbolise. Do you know what I love about how far up you have to climb? The satisfaction of watching you fall from your pedestal and that fall is many times harsher than the climb. No one's empire stands forever, for if you crack it’s foundation then the rest will...
Crumble... Crumble… Crumble... Until nothing else is left. Then another will claim it all. Then the circle begins anew. When your worlds comes crashing down by my hand and the scars serve as permanent reminders for your foolish quests, then remember this, Trauma Ohio was the one to maim you and the flashbacks you will get for the rest of your pathetic lives will serve to remind you of that exact time you think you have conquered the demons of the despair inflicted by yours truly, on each and every one of you. I will shatter your dreams before they have truly begun by snatching away your chance at fame and the riches on offer? I will break every single finger so none of you can grip those brass rings. Money makes the world go round, but it is also a catalyst for which this world suffers every day. I will….save you from this pain. You are welcome. And you Wendy. You set me free. You showed spirit. You have chosen to come after me. For that I thank you. I will reserve special treatment for one who actually displays that they have a spine. You will not thank me for what is remaining of your spine when I pick just the right moment to decimate you and watch you closely, as the spirit you showcase escapes from your body and your eyes become awash with the realisation you just made a terrible mistake. That pop you here will not be the sound of arms breaking but the sound of vertebrates imploding. I do not blame people for their mistakes but I will make sure you pay for yours. Atop of that cage will be the no man’s land for which we will fight. It will also serve as the table from which I will feast on the years I take off your career...and theirs too.”
Trauma raises his arms, mocking Jesus on a cross position.
“Feast your eyes. Bare witness. Heed my words. And tremble. The platform has been chosen and you have been selected to showcase yourselves to me. Yes, we will dance, you better dance well, otherwise it will be more than trodden toes when my foot stands on your larynx. Yes we will go to the ball. Cinderella’s, there will be no royalty to chase you. Do you walk with your eyes closed? Do you see what I see? When you walk the path you have chosen, listening to the whispers in your ears, do you walk blinded by promises, blinded by curiosity? You have sought answers for far too long only to be told which direction to go, but you do not see the footprints you are standing in. You do not see their size and you do not see that you are walking in my footsteps and your quest is eclipsed by MY... shadow. The doors to Purgatory, I have opened those doors and now that is my territory, that is my dominion and you are trespassing. You seek answers? Meet the entity that holds them all. The price of what you seek? Pay the toll. Pay the tribute. Come to me and I will show you the desires of your heart, then I will take it. That is my price. None negotiable. I will enjoy giving you those answers, you however, will not like them. I am the face that stares back at you from the shadows of your mirror. The hollowness at the heart of all your hopes. I am your despair!”
“The world is a dangerous place. Not because of the people who are evil; but because of the people who don't do anything about it. The ying and the yang. Angels are Angels Demons are demons. But which is which really? As to some, a demon is an angel, and to others an angel is a demon. Are you my Angel, Zombie? If you are not, I promise you, I will be your demon. There are no depths that I will not swim, no mountain I will not climb. And if you do not give me what I want then I promise you the foundations beneath your feet will crumble and the temple on which you claim to have forsaken will crumble and you will be swallowed again by your own despair. The truth is, you are tired Atlas, yes, Atlas, of holding up the heavens of others. I invite you to drink from my River Styx and accept its gifts. Forget the woes of your past and let me free you from your futures.
A Dog will bark it’s last. Bullet casings will lie dead on the floor with nothing left to give. Skrabz will be even more bitter. A faceless one will be faceless no more, until I take it off. And the Zombie will bite off more than it can chew. One by one, they all will fall. And although I care little for trinkets, victory will let me show you all just how far you have fallen, then I can see if Thee champion, whoever it will be, can face true horrors and come out victorious. Will it be a War Queen, shrouded by arrogance, or the hero of the people, ready to become the martyr.
Soon. Very Soon. Trauma is unleashed...again. There is no Titaness to subdue me, there is only...Trauma. Reborn! For you? It is Game...Over”
Trauma Ohio’s Laugh echoes manically. Unleashed once more. He finds bandages and wraps his head and face. Heees Baaaaack! Can he be stopped this time? Soon...we will see.
Thursday, September 2, 2021 Master Suite Penthouse Apartment Las Vegas, Nevada 9:09 AM PDT
Dawning bright and early, the day was smiling on them here in Las Vegas for the fifth morning of what looked like would be many to come.
The Shieldmaidens had evacuated both their own MC and the Chrome Dragons to Las Vegas ahead of Hurricane Ida and also brought most of the Zdunich and Kenyon clans with them. Between this building and the one formerly owned by Shonn and Aerynn Maguire and now legally owned by their siblings, “Psycho” Saoirse Maguire, Aoife “Banshee” Maguire and Fianna “Fetch” Kenyon, there would be eighty-eight people that made the trip.
For some, it was already starting to feel like a prison sentence.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Does Caveman ever stop?
Alex “Bullet” Carbajal looks over at her girlfriend and fellow Shieldmaiden and just smirks.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Complaining?
Bandit nods and Bullet just shakes her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: No, it is what gives him lifeblood and allows him to draw breath. He can even give Papa Bear a run for his money as a “grumpy old man.”
Bandit stares at Bullet, a momentary shock washing over her.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: You would actually call Forge that?
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: No, he has. The others all think it is funny and use it to torment Caveman even more. Spectre, 3-D…
She pauses and then nods in acknowledging a point.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Well, really only 2-D as Devastator doesn’t really torment anyone, he’s too sweet.
Now it’s Bandit’s turn to snicker.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: God bless Donnie.
Bullet nods in agreement.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Doomsday sort of falls into the grumpy category as well, just not as much as Caveman and Forge. Dammit, on the other hand…
Bandit starts to openly laugh.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Aw, Todd Dammit!
Bullet nods knowingly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: It is a fitting name when dealing with the rest of us in that garage. Vice, Goldie, Boner, Kyojin, Chase, Cisco, Spectre…
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I’ve heard Kara and Taza say it too.
Bullet smiles in an almost motherly fashion, pride filling her eyes.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Es la verdad…
She nods to Bandit.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Kara seems to have found her place in the world here with us.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I don’t know how she hasn’t snapped yet with everything going on lately. Between Rose, the storm, losing the titles to SCRS, seeing the clubhouse in Mount Diablo and having to fight Cain this weekend…
Bullet nods understandingly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Perhaps we will be fortunate and she will be able to restrain herself for another few days. I have heard some hopeful news from home so…
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: It probably helps that we have lots of things we can sneak off to do here. We don’t have to feel like we all got locked in that monstrosity you will be locked inside on Sunday.
Bullet exhales heavily.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: That is what Caveman is feeling, that we have locked him in a prison. Doomsday and Cisco both looked at him like he was crazy as this is nothing like a prison to those that have been inside of one the way they have. But I know some of the children cannot be enjoying this.
Bandit nods knowingly.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I’d be shocked if Liv MacKenna was taking this well. Her autism is probably running in overdrive at the disruption of ALL of her routines simultaneously.
Bullet nods sadly again.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: At least her family is here with her as well but it is the truth of the matter. I do not think she will take it well if they receive word that their home is damaged and they cannot return any time soon.
She smiles and nods at their surroundings
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Even here at the Krigare Hilton.
Bandit’s eyes go wide even as she tries to stifle a laugh.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Don’t let Eav hear you call it that or she’ll be legit mad at you for using that last name for it.
Bullet nods again.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: You are probably right. I should train myself to not call it that and keep that name out of my mouth. She does not deserve any further attention.
Bandit snickers yet again.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Unless she’s the mystery opponent.
Bullet rolls her eyes.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: If she is, whoever entered her should be slapped.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: They should have been slapped when it was supposed to be Sullivan. That woman did not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath with you, Skrabz, Ohio, Mad Dog and Zombie on any level.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: That no longer matters.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: So who do you think it’ll be? I mean, we know it won’t be Leah or El D because their match goes on after yours.
Bullet nods as she ponders the question.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I have heard suspicions.
She pauses and then nods.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Some, I would welcome.
Bandit frowns in confusion.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Like who?
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Krigare thinks it will be Snakebite.
Bandit suddenly looks like she’s smelled something nasty.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: She thinks Rob would put himself in this?
Bullet just shoots her a knowing look.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: You do not consider him capable of such?
Bandit starts to answer but then catches herself.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Ok, you got a point there.
Bullet nods knowingly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I think that is a possibility, but I think it would be a poor solution and a last resort. Rob likes to think bigger than just himself and I do not think that would do for him on this.
Bandit thinks on this for a second and then nods.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Ok, then who would work for it for him?
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I can think of three of the top of my head as returns. I can also see him going for an impressive winner already on the card, Harry, Psycho, Christina, Cain, you.
Bandit shrugs, her nose still appearing to smell whatever the odor was emanating earlier.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I don’t know, that seems like something he would have announced earlier to try and get our competitive juices flowing even more.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Es la verdad.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Ok, then who would be the three returns you think would do it for him?
Bullet smiles broadly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Actually, I was mistaken, there are four.
Bandit frowns harder.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Four?
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Four.
Bandit cocks her head, obviously intrigued.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Who?
Bullet sits back on the bed slightly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Tyke Index…
Bandit shrugs, seemingly underwhelmed there.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Sam...
Bandit’s eyes go wide at that name.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Shit yeah…
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Forge..
Bandits’ eyes go even wider.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Oh shit…
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Robi…
Bandit damn near falls over at the mention of this last name.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: You can’t be serious…
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I did not say any of them were likely, just that they would be ones I could think of that would make Rob get excited about this. It is entirely possible that I have not even conceived of who it is.
Bandit sits there in shock as the sound of the names reverberate in her ears.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Any of those would probably get him rock fucking hard about it, especially as a surprise.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Skrabz has shown his love of those, as has Ripley. Perhaps it will be Mister Ripley and he will finally get an opportunity independent of Chris Mosh.
Bandit smirks in kind.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: That would drive Mosh insane…
She pauses and allows herself a small chuckle.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I’d laugh my ass off!
Bullet nods her agreement.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: As would I. I would think many would be, as grating as Mosh can be.
Bandit raises her hands as if she’s at a revival meeting.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We will simply have to wait and see.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: When the storm comes…
Bullet nods back.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: When the storm comes.
Friday, September 3, 2021 Warehouse Gym Maguire’s Las Vegas, Nevada 8:09 PM PDT
The camera opens on Alex “Bullet” Carbajal walking through the door to the gym in her usual ensemble of black tactical boots, black tactical pants, black Metallica ...And Justice For All t-shirt, black fingerless gloves and her Shieldmaidens kutte. She glances off to the right at the table currently holding the MHW Phoenix Championship belt and then steps into the center of the shot.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Just familiar enough to feel like home despite not being home…
She looks up and nods to the building behind her.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: El Martillo patterned the gym we have back in New Orleans after this one he built here in Las Vegas.
She nods, rubbing her hand lovingly along its wall.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: My early training happened here. El Martillo showed me my first kicks and how to properly strike in the ring in the far left corner. I owe my career to this building…
Looking around, Bullet nods to the ceiling.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We called this place home…
Bullet shrugs and then looks back to the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Now we come here because the storm came down on us and forced us to seek alternate shelter as we readied for the biggest fights of our lives.
She almost laughs to herself.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: And now, Jack and I did not even have to travel down to Rome, Georgia today because the SRW show we were to take part in was postponed until next week. So, here we stand…
The smile fades off her face.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: So now I ready here, in the place that once readied me to fight for real, for the Game Over Penitentiary. Six of us will enter and one of us will leave with a prize that all of us should covet above all other things. Six of us will enter the battleground and only one can leave with the opportunity to go for the brass ring that sits atop the mountain in the War Queen’s grasp!
She looks down at her hand, counting out six fingers.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Seis…
She nods and allows the second hand and sixth finger to fall away out of the shot, her gaze remaining affixed to the five fingers currently staring her in the face.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Yet only five have been announced because number six tagged out before the match even began! Say it was a firing, say it was not but whatever it was, Stephanie Sullivan is no longer our problem.
She pauses and nods to the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: She was the one who least earned her way there anyway unless you count allowing the world to believe you were helping to destroy Robert Mack;’s marriage is considered hard, honest work.
Looking back to her hand, she nods knowingly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: So we can discount the sixth for a second as we consider the other five. Robert and Katrina Mack cannot be faulted for the lineup they assembled for this match.
She nods, the five fingers seemingly staring up at the camera as well as Bullet. She retracts them and extends her index finger.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Mad Dog is the current Throwdown Champion and has acquitted himself quite well as that champion after taking it from Sorsh. Any grouping of the top six in the company currently would obviously include him with the run he has been on during this relaunched season.
A second finger joins the first.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Skrabz is the biggest name in the history of this company and has been conspicuously and probably consciously kept away from the championship scene since his return. Though even saying that, no one can deny that he deserves to be here just because of how long he held the Mile High Ultimate Championship. He made that championship what it is and established a standard few could measure up to.
A third finger joins the first two.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Zombie is a former Throwdown Champion in her own right. She knocked this company on its ass when she first arrived and made everyone sit up and take notice just as she did with the Shieldmaidens when she first joined. She is known to question things, sometimes loudly and when she speaks or acts, people take notice.
A fourth finger joins its brethren.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Gabriel Ohio is also a former Throwdown Champion. He is who took that championship from Zombie and he just did something only a very select few of us can lay claim to and that is he hung an L on Skrabz. When he sets himself to a task, there is no stopping him. There is only the slim hope that you will live through it to fight another day.
The thumb pops out to make it five.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: And then you have me.
She closes the hand into a fist.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I am the current Phoenix Champion. I was the first Phoenix Champion and the only person to ever reclaim it. I am one of only two repeat singles champions in this company’s history and I am who made this championship what it was and what it could be again!
She looks at the first and nods to herself.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Together, we are a formidable collection of talent that is second to none!
She nods, grabbing her wrist with her free hand as if the fist is now a weapon to be wielded.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Put us up against anyone else and we would be the club that smashes down through what stands before us and destroys it on the way to glory and oblivion! Set them all up and we would hammer them all down like so many nails waiting to be driven into the wood floor!
Releasing her wrist, Bullet looks down momentarily.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: And yet, there is another yet unknown factor that awaits us inside the Game Over Penitentiary.
She nods as she looks back up to the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We will have an intruder in our midst. One who will not even have the decency to be revealed before we get into this Game Over Penitentiary.
Her eyes lower away from the camera again.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I know this was not the original plan nor was it what Robert Mack really wanted because he was quite enjoying how Stephanie Sullivan was able to be the original sixth entrant despite having never accomplished anything here in Mile High Wrestling. Now that she has been removed or removed herself and gone back to California where she can explain things to that poor woman in Los Angeles that was supposed to be something to her, the rest of us all get one final gotcha moment from her with … this…
Her hand raises up as does her gaze.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: ¡Hijueputa! ¡Malparida carechimba!
She shakes her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Another...
Glaring into the camera, Bullet’s hand balls into a fist again.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Five of us will have had the announcement made in advance and will step into that knowing full well what we get into! The sixth will know as well but that person will not be known to us and I will say now that it should not matter who it is. Whether it is a returning star, a big surprise so that Robert Mack can grasp himself and pretend that he actually cares about this company more than he does his own personal attention or simply Robert Mack himself, the five of us will be ready to meet this sixth in the same manner we will be ready to meet each other!
She grasps her wrist as she did earlier.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We know it will not faze Skrabz at all, nor will it faze Ohio. It will not faze Zombie or I and it will not faze Mad Dog. We will fight as we have never fought before. We will beat on each other until none of us can stand and the only thing holding up the winner is the ropes and the referee raising that person’s hand! The six of us will beat and bleed each other and make those watching cringe! We will make them all wish they had not and yet be proud that they did for the display put forth will rival the work of the ancient gods in all their glory! The Game Over Penitentiary will be that time that Mile High looks at the world and says, “Follow That!”
She swings her fist out defiantly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We are all ready to step into battle, sacrifice whatever we need to of ourselves, pay whatever the personal cost is and fight until there is no longer fight left and then we will reach down and dig deep into places none of us knew we had and find the will to continue on!
Her fist opens up and she points to herself.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I will not be out done and I will personally fight until everyone watching says that Game Over Penitentiary was the damndest thing they have ever seen!
Her hand falls out of the shot.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: And to anyone who either thinks it cannot be done or that decides to step into that match and not do the same, I will say to you...
Skrabal's Motel Room Denver, Colorado August 23rd 2021 1:10AM
With Episode thirty seven of MHW Throwdown and a another successful night at work begind him, a sore and slightly inebriated Skrabal walks across the parking lot of his motel complex with a bottle of beer in hand. He fumbles in his pocket, searching for his key, and when he pulls it out he looks towards his Motel room and is confused by seeing a light on. As he gets closer he notices that the door is open slightly, he finishes his beer and breaks the bottle on the wall then enters his motel room carrying the jagged bottle neck, ready to cut any intruders he finds
He steps through the door and closes it behind him. He pauses for a second after noticing sound coming from his television. A few steps later he enters the main room and sees that it is spotless, looking towards the small kitchenette he sees it clear, all plates, bowls and cutlery washed and put away. He looks towards the sofa and sees Sabrina sitting there, a joint in her hand and her eyes fixed on the television as she watches The Demon Of Durango on the Splat network.
Skrabal places the broken bottle neck on the three legged table and sits down next to her. He looks around his clean and tidy room for a few seconds before his gaze settles on Sabrina looks at the broken bottle neck then glances at Skrabz and smiles.
Skrabal leans forward and removes a joint from the Tupperware box sat atop the three legged coffee table. He places it it in his mouth and without even looking in his direction Sabrina reaches out holding a lighter, which she sparks to life, allowing Skrabal to light his joint.
Skrabal hesitates for a second and looks at her again before finally lighting his joint. He inhales deeply and as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke he sinks back into the brown sofa.
Skrabal's Motel Room
Denver, Colorado August 26th 2021 5:45AM
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabz stands in the ring with Robert Mack.
Gabriel Ohio walks down the ramp.
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabz drops Ohio with a Mic Check.
Gabriel Ohio laughs.
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Gabriel Ohio chokeslams Skrabz through the commentary table.
Gabriel Ohio gives Skrabz a Fall From Grace off the roof of a mini van
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabal wakes with a jolt. The bedroom is lit by the faint glow of the television displaying the Splat TV "Are you still watching?" splash screen. Skrabal carefully sits up, taking effort not to wake Sabrina, who had been sleepin with her head on his chest. He gently lays her down on the bed and takes a joint from the Tupperware box on the bedside table. He lights it and stands up then begins slowly pacing the room, occasionally turning his head to glance at Sabrina as she sleeps soundly. After a few minutes of pacing he stuffs a few things into a back pack and heads out into the early morning Denver air, puffing his joint as he closes the door behind him.
August 26th 2021
The pungent aroma of Jungle Boys Banana Punch follows Skrabal on his uncharacteristic early morning walk. He walks with a casual manner but with a distinct purpose in his step as he makes his way down the quiet street. He keeps his head high and pivots it on his neck as takes in the dawn scenes around him.
Skrabal takes a seat on a bench outside a twenty four hour gym. He takes a bottle of water from his backpack and takes a sip, then takes a few deep tokes on his joint before taking his phone from his hoodie pocket. After a few quick swipes and taps at the screen a video call is placed. A few seconds tick by before the call is Answered.
"My G!" Ty says, his cheesy smile beaming.
"What's good fam?" Skrabal asks his lifelong friend.
"It's all good bredrin, ain't nothin' to complain about. But hol' up, wait a minute..."
"You ain't. There's no way."
"Bruv what is it?"
"Are you outside?... Oi Quiet Man come have a look will ya, I think I'm seein' tings." Ty spits out through laughter while gesturing for Quiet Man to come look.
"Rah... Fam man goes out ya know. When I has too." Skrabal replies while laughing.
"Yo Que Em! How you been bredda?" Skrabal asks as Quiet Man comes into view.
Quiet Man smiles, nods and gives Skrabal two thumbs up before signing to Ty "He outside, he outside."
"That's what I thought." Ty tells him while laughing.
"Oh he sign for that, you ask him where the weed went or who drunk the last beer and suddenly his fingers ain't work." Skrabal says, poking fun at his mute friend.
Quiet Man responds by flipping Skrabz off.
"Looks like his fingers work to me" Ty quips, making the three of them laugh some more. "For real though, it gotta be half six in the morning there, why you out for? You shit the bed?"
"Gym innit. Got some shit to work through."
"You can tell me anyfin brudda, you know that."
"So it be a girl then. Oi Que Em, Skrabz done caught feelin's for one of these gyal he givin' pipe to"
"Allow it fam."
"So what is it then?"
"I dunno... You ever spend a few days wit' someone then find out they name but realise it ain't matter what they name is?"
"That ain't my life bredrin', I'm a married man."
"Yeah... How Chantelle doin' anyway? I ain't seen her for a few years now. Not since that night at yours before I first come out here."
"She good... She busy, always modellin' or dancin', or shillin' some bullshit online."
"What got into you?"
"Nuttin'... It jus' be this gyal Sabrina..."
"What about her?"
"I dunno... I met her a while back, spent some time wit' her. Normally that be it but I jus' keep thinkin' about her, plus she let herself in the other night when I was at w..."
"She did what bredda?"
"Let herself in innit, when I was at work."
"She got a key?"
"And you did what?"
"Nuttin', jus' sat wit' her. Had a lil smoke an' that, fell asleep watchin' Splat."
"The fuck? You jokin', right?"
"Allow it fam. It was alright innit. She been stayin' wit' me since"
"Was it?... Has she?"
"Yeah... Fam you married, right? So get off my back wit' your bullshit."
"Bredda it sound like some stalker shit. My wife live wid me too, she ain't break an' enter when she come home. You do you though, it ain't for me to judge."
"It ain't a ting anyway. I ain't even gonna be around these bits much longer, we goin' on tour soon."
"I saw that, first stop Las Vegas an' you got a big night right there brudda."
"An' you comin' off that big El Diablo match too. You ain't have to say that shit to him though, that's a baby you talkin' about."
"Hypotheticals innit fam."
"It still be offensive."
"It s'posed to be."
"I feel that... Listen bredda, you gotta be firmly on your bullshit come Game Over. For real this might be the hardest nights work you ever had to do."
"Seen. Maybe..." Skrabal replies dismissively as he throws his finished joint on the floor.
"I'mma get off innit, head inside." Skrabal continues, gesturing to the twenty four hour gym behind him.
"Okay bredda, I would say take it easy but, ya know... don't."
"Look after yaself fam. Toll."
Skrabal taps at his phone, ending the video call, and heads inside the gym.
Skrabal's Motel Room
August 27th 2021
The room is bathed in the glow from the television as the Splat network streams another of it's shows into Skrabal's rented accommodation. A thick layer of smoke fills the air as Skrabal sits on the brown sofa with Sabrina beside him, his arm over her shoulders.
"So... when are you headed to Vegas?"
"Okay..." Sabrina sighs before sinking down into the sofa, resting her head deeper into Skrabal's chest.
"Yeah..." Skrabal replies as his arm tightens around her shoulders.
Skrabal's Motel Room
August 28th, 2021
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabz stands in the ring with Robert Mack.
Gabriel Ohio walks down the ramp.
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabz drops Ohio with a Mic Check.
Gabriel Ohio laughs.
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Gabriel Ohio chokeslams Skrabz through the commentary table.
Gabriel Ohio gives Skrabz a Fall From Grace off the roof of a mini van
Referee Emily Falls counts to three.
Skrabal wakes suddenly and sits up on the brown sofa with urgency, his heart racing in his chest. The sense of panic inside him fades as the seconds pass. He looks around the room, studying it's cleanliness, he notices that Sabrina is nowhere to be seen. A piece of paper on the three legged table in front of him catches his attention, he picks it up and reads it.
"Thanks for a great time. I'm sure of it!
It's a shame you're leaving but that's the way things go I guess.
I'll be here if you come back, I hope you do.
Take care of yourself, I mean it.
Skrabal folds the note and slides it into his hoodie pocket as he stands. He raises his hands into the air, stretching his shoulders and back, before taking a joint from the Tupperware box on the three legged table. After a few deep tokes he heads to his bedroom to begin packing for his trip toe Las Vegas.
Skrabal's Rented Trailer
Las Vegas, Nevada
September 4th 2021
Skrabal sits on the floor of his rented Las Vegas Trailer. He holds his phone in his hand as he looks into it's lens, his face consuming the shot, his bloodshot eyes starring out condescendingly. Suddenly the shot changes rapidly. Ceiling, floor, wall, floor, ceiling. It settles again, zoned in on a dark blue sofa. The sound of bottles clinking together is heard and Skrabal enters the shot carrying a box of beer which he places on the floor next to the sofa. He takes a seat and takes a bottle of beer from the box.
"Ya nah ever since I done stepped my two feet back through the door I been tellin' any an' e'ryone thatta listen that I want my shot at what's mine. I been tellin' 'em that that Mi' High Ultimate title still belong to man like Skrabz. But from day one back the Bossman told 'em all I ain't ever getting my shot...
He twists the top of the beer and throws it out of shot.
" He had the bare faced cheek to state that man like Skrabz ain't ever gonna get his hands on the big strap again."
He drinks from the bottle greedily.
"Tings change in this bidness though innit, from plans to cards the shit be real malleable, they could switch any one of 'em up an' out at any given time. Could even tear the whole shit up an' start again when they already startin' the countdown, on a fuck it we'll do it live vibe... An' at some point, at some time along the way to Game Over suttin' done changed in Mi High an' now man like Skrabz be within snatchin' distance a the ting he want and need the most... "
He finishes his first beer and drops the bottle on the floor.
What changed though?... It be a good question."
He reaches for another bottle of beer from the box and twists the lid off.
"Could all be the Bossman's wife's doin', shit it was her who had sense enough to bring me back in the first place... Or it could the Bossman done finally seen some sense, lil post nut moment a clarity thanks to Stephanie Sullivan. Could be as he laid in her arms, coz you know he got that small spoon energy, could be has she caressed his face that a lightbulb went off in his head an' he suddenly realised ain't nobody else in Mi' High deserve the shit more than I does. Or maybe it could be a good for bidness ting, it's how they talk innit but I hate myself a lil more jus' for sayin' it... But shit, it do get 'em talking, it sell tickets, it get the vast majority of 'em turnin' up jus' hopin' somebody out here got a wrench big enough to throw in my plans... Could be suttin' else though, could be that after all this time the Bossman thinks he givin' me jus' enough rope to hang myself wit'. He could be hopin' I choke an' after this man'll go to the back a the line... Could be he thinkin', hopin' and prayin' that wit' five bodies standin' in my way that man like Skrabz ain't gonna have what it take to do what he need to do... It be a shared sentiment, accordin' to fan opinion man like Ohio be dead set certy to take the dub but then I already done told ya what I feel for a fan opinion, an' it ain't nuttin' positive fam but I'mma remind you anyway ya, it go suttin' like..."
"Fuck a Stan's consensus, I'm the man; repentless
Ends justify my means an' my means be endless"
"Yeah, an' I been tellin' ya for years, since day dot that it ain't matter how many it is or where they are, you line 'em, point 'em out an' I'mma roll right on through 'em. But still they say this the toughest challenge man has ever faced, I even heard it said that this might be the hardest nights work I ever had to do..."
He shakes his head.
"E'ry night I work be the hardest I ever worked. I ain't out here lookin' for shortcuts, I ain't lookin' for a leg up fam, nah. I stepped in an' stepped up settin' levels for 'em to either reach for or gawp at, it be whatever they want it to be fam, trust."
He finally takes a good long drink from his second bottle of beer.
Tings be dif'rent this time though, kinda. Coz we doin' bird innit, if you ain't catch the lingo it mean we doin' porridge. If you still ain't get it, the shit mean we goin' prison fam an' if you still ain't fuckin' understand it I be talkin' about that first ever Penitentiary match. We settin' trends out here, six body ting, shot at the big strap pon the line. Yeah, it finally be time for man like Skrabz to book his date wit' so called royalty... "
He pauses and looks at the camera.
"Yeah I said it... If you ask me I'mma tell ya that War Queen walkin' wit' the big strap come Game Over. Or she better at least... Coz I ain't left her much work to do there wit' El Dee. Nuttin' but scraps left pon the bone for her to pick off an' from what I seen that be about fittin' for her appetite."
He laughs slightly, arrogantly, before taking another drink of beer.
"Nah but for real fam, at the moment you jus' got suttin' that belong to me, but if you let that fat, fake ma'fucker walk out wit' the big strap then' me an' you gonna have a real prollem, So you better defend that shit like it belong to ya."
He looks deep into the camera, straight faced.
"Defend it like ya life depend it, coz it might it just do."
He finishes his second beer and drops the bottle on the floor, then he leans forward and retrieves a kief covered joint from outside the camera's view. He outs it in his mouth and lights it, inhaling it's thick smoke deep into his lungs. For a while he just sits, smoking his joint, savouring the taste with each puff he takes. The seconds tick by all the while he sits there, appearing on the verge of saying saying but remaining silent, just smoking.
He leans down the side of the sofa and takes another bottle of beer from the box.
"Ya nah you walk into any company out there an' you 'bound to find one or two of 'em in the back who spent a lil time behind bars. We had a couple ex jail birds here innit, maybe more than that, but one be Solomon Cain. Yeah he did a short stretch for stabbin' Sam Hamilton's husband, one of 'em anyway. There be another ex convict too but his name slip my mind again innit ... Nah for real, the fuck was his name?... Forget it, he ain't matter no more... I'mma come back to him though... Point is it seem e'ry company out there got a convict on they roster."
He twists the top off his beer and throws it on the floor.
"Man like Skrabz ain't ever been to jail fam. "
He takes a drink from the bottle.
"I guess I break the law better than 'em too."
He laughs smiles smugly.
"I ain't no stranger to bars though, but for real this be man's first time gettin' locked up an' I ain't goin' down alone, nah. There so many bodies in there you'd think somebody snitched on they entire crew. But ain't no love or connection among us, not even between those Maidens, not when there be a shot at the big strap pon the line. Once that bell ring it be e'ry man an' gyal for they self, right?"
He looks into the camera with his eyebrows raised slightly, his facial expression almost begging for a response.
"It's what we s'posed to say innit."
He shakes his head.
"It's what we s'posed to make 'em think, but I been tellin' 'em for years, the way I see tings... It's been man like Skrabz against 'em all from the get go. So if you ask me I'mma tell you this a five on one an' that sound like a fair fight to me... Oh but that's that arrogance innit, or overconfidence at least, coz one of 'em a mystery an' one of 'em Gabriel Ohio, an' we all know what happened last time me an' him stood toe to toe at Rise Again...
He looks into the camera, micro expressions of hate, disdain, despair and contempt flashing on his face.
"Ya don't need to remind me fam, I seen the shit e'ry time I slept ever since...."
He takes a few deep, relaxing tokes on his joint.
"It ain't jus' them though, there be others in the ting, ain't none of 'em a mystery either, nah they be well known. One of 'em more well known to me than the others. In fact she be about my favourite choke artist."
He smiles, arrogance oozing from his core.
"Sup, Bullet? How ya doin'?
He winks ate the camera then laughs smugly.
"Oh but I can't say that choke artist shit, right? Not any more at least, coz you held it down against the masked gamer an' walked out with the strap some of 'em swear to this day that you made matter. I think they lyin', but I gotta say fam that shit sit a lot prettier on your itty bitty waist than it ever it could on El Dee's. I got news for ya too, I'mma letchu keep it. Yeah I ain't gunnin' for that one, but shit I wasn't last time, the ting jus' kinda happen. Yeah, man like Skrabz jus' have a knack for stackin' up the accolades wit'out even trying'....
He looks at the camera.
How many tries it take you fam?
He sneers before breaking out in another arrogant smile.
"Nah, but for real, how many chances you have? It's not a hypothetical question this time coz I stopped countin' years ago, plural. You had a few already this time around, walked right back on in to one too, first match back an' you fightin' for the number one pretendership, you an' ol what's his name... Yeah I knew his name all along, it be Tyke Index innit... Whole reason I been doin' this what's his name ting all this time is coz he accused you a refusin' to say it, you remember that? He seemed pretty pissed off innit, only ting is he was imaginin' the shit. You ain't never had no prollem sayin' the man's name. Shit I done said it enough times in the past too an' it leave a bad taste e'ry time. So man like Skrabz thought he'd don a white coat innit, run a lil experiment... What he conclude though?"... Conclusion be that I ain't said that man's name a single time, I addressed dude as ol' what's his name for months straight an' he ain't say or do shit about it."
He pauses and takes a long drink of his third beer.
"Why that be though?... I'm a tell ya, one time, on the level... It be because Tyke Index an' e'ry one else in the back know that me an' you ain't the same, so he rush to accuse you a tings you ain't do but too scurred to call me out when I actually do the shit... But what dif'rence they see? It be quite simple fam..."
"They ain't consider you a challenger, how else can I put it?
They know my calibre damagin' coz I ain't Bullet."
"Yeah... But still the Bossman got a soft spot for ya, it be good for bidni...Nah I can't say it again fam, but it make sense for him to have you carryin' that Mi High Phoenix strap east, south, west, north an' e'rywhere else your work schedule take ya. So maybe that be why he been so willin' to hand you chance after chance. Coz let's be real fam, all these opportunities he presented ya wit' be more than you earned an' deserve but you finally made one of 'em count... An' that's all it take for 'em to start chattin' gas about some hot streak you be on?... What about those long cold months that came before it?... Fam you luke warm at best... That be another dif'rence between me an' you though, coz ya know how many chances man like Skrabz been givin' in his time? Jus' the one innit, but that be all ever needed... Well now I got one more fam, I got a chance to earn my sh... Nah fuck that, I earned the shit already. I got one chance to prove that I be owed the shot an' the history between us should tell 'em all that you ain't about to stop me, Bullet... But ya know what fam, I kinda pity ya. I mean your ship sinkin' all around you an it be your own fault. It seem that multitaskin' ain't your strong suit coz you can either lead ya troops or succeed for yaself. Yeah, when you givin' 'em pep talks an' micro managin' they shit your Maiden's doin they ting, kinda, but the second you focus on your own shit theirs start to suffer. Now you got that Phoenix strap back an' they losin' matches, straps an' they minds. So now your numbers diminishin' pon the weekly an' if you walk outta Game Over wit' another shot at the big strap you might end up the only Maiden left."
He looks at the camera.
"But don't worry blad, I'mma make sure that ain't happen, standard!... Butchu ain't alone though nah, you Maiden's rarely are. Got ya bikes lookin' suttin like a clown car, one rolls up an' two dozen of 'em ridin' pillion."
He laughs and shakes his head before taking another drink of beer.
"This time ya got Zombie there backin' you up, in the shadows, standin' behind one a ya, where she usually stay. But I already said ain't no ties or affiliations in this one, not wit' a shot at the big strap pon the line. There be a hint a dissension in ya ranks to start wit' thanks to ya recent leadership but shit, but once that bell ring, it be jus' a matter a time 'till one of ya see an openin' an' take your shot, then any sense a sisterhood ya got left be straight out the window wit' any hope the two of ya got at walkin' wit' the dub...
He sets his confident gaze on the camera's lens.
"Coz if Hell empty this hound 'bout to herd ya back through the gates."
He pauses to finish his third beer and drops the bottle on the floor before continuing.
"But on the real I got a question for ya... Zombie... Why you here fam? I ain't jus' mean the match, I mean in general innit. Coz from what I seen all you done did since we come back is break ya face an' lil else.... I guess this be a lil compensation package for ya work place injury. Yeah that gotta be it, the Bossman givin' you the biggest pay day you ever seen as an apology. On a sorry you got fucked up vibe... But shit mabe not, coz all he he done did is place you right back in harms way an' you could come outta this one even worse for wear wit' injuries that stay witchu for life, coz man like Skrabz ain't break bones fam nah, he break spirits."
His stare lingers on the camera for a moment before he continues.
"But oh shit, I misspoke innit coz you did suttin' else too. You a hall a famer now, kinda, coz they done putchu all in as a job lot. Shit I guess they let anyone in...
He shakes his head, his face a picture of contempt.
"Oi Bossman take me out fam, I beg you."
His mask of contempt breaks into a self satisfied smile. He re-lights his joint and takes several rapid tokes on it before continuing.
"I'm jus' fuckin' witchu, kinda. But Zombie I ask you again fam, why you here? Coz it weren't too long ago you told that War Queen that if packin' the big strap mean you gotta wanna be the best then she can keep it... I swear down I had to rewind the shit several times jus' to make sure I heard ya right. That ain't quite how you said it but the sentiment the same... If you ain't wanna be the best then I ask you again fam, one more time, on the level, why the fuck you here?... You here to make up the numbers, is that it fam? Well if that be the extent a your ambition then congratulations, you one a six...
He shakes his head, condescension dripping from every pore.
You finally made it..."
He takes a deep toke on his joint then reaches for a fourth bottle of beer.
"Someone else who got ambitions bigger than that be that Mad Dog. Yeah he been tellin' us all about how he do this for a better a life, how he do it for it for his family, he do it his blah blah blah... He got drive to be better at least an' he done snatched him up that Throwdown strap from Psycho an' he held onto it like it be made a gold an' maybe it is fam, to tell ya the truth man like Skrabz ain't got a clue he ain't ever look to hard at that one. I had my eyes set on bigger artillery from the off an' that shit too big to hide, it be on an over the shoulder vibe innit, open carry ting, ya get me? But that Throwdown strap real cute though, it be the perfect size for concealment, you wear it right an' nobody even see it, they ain't even know you got it on ya..."
"You got 'em talkin' though, no doubt about it. I heard 'em all chattin' that nonsense an' foolishness about how you gonna be the nex' big ting in Mi High... They said it like they meant it too fam an' furthermore they said the shit like the old big ting ain't still right here...
"The fuckin nerve of 'em, what's Mad Dog to Cerberus?"
He twists the lid off his fourth beer and takes a long drink.
"But then they go throw you into that number one contender bullshit wit' El Dee an' if I ain't already takin notice of ya before that then it definitely gave me one, kinda..."
He takes a couple of quick tokes on his joint.
"Coz when push came to shove we soon find out that Mark Wright be all bark an' no trunk... Wait I done mixed up the idiom, I'm supposed to say bite, right? Coz a the Dog ting?... "
He shakes his head.
"Nah, the tree ting more fittin' coz there a Sunny Jim shaped primate swingin' from ya limbs an' the way I seen it the dead rot already set in before ya roots had time to spread, plus ain't ever been no substance behind ya outer shell in the first place... All bark an' no trunk... Butchu do it for ya family, right? For ya kids? Fam, ya buddy El Dee a tell you exactly what man like Skrabz think about ya kids but shit, at least ya got the sense not to let yours idolise a crud lord so maybe ya could go offer ya boy some parentin' advice. Ya nah now that I think about it, you ain't us dumb as ya pretend to be. You one a the few who ain't run they mouth about what they'd do to man when the Bossman filled 'em full a confidence wit' his lies an' bullshit, an' you about the only one of 'em to point it out when they stop sayin' that shit soon as I step on back through the door too... So I know ya got the smarts required to realise that despite ya lil hype, despite ya buzz an' despite that imitation strap you carryin 'round wit' ya this Penitentiary ting only gonna go one for ya, an' it ain't the Wright way fam, nah. In fact it be the exact opposite, but fam it's jus' what you need, trust. Coz they say ya should never let an animal suffer innit, so big Skrabz the vet out to put this Mad Dog down again the first opportunity he get."
He pauses and takes a long drink from his beer followed by a couple deep tokes on his joint. After a few moments of silence he finishes his beer and drops the empty bottle on the floor. A few more tokes on his joint follow before he stubs it out and reaches for his fifth bottle of beer. He twists the lid off and throws it across the trailer with force.
He guzzles his beer and reaches for a fresh joint
He finishes his beer, drops the empty bottle on the floor and immediately reaches for a sixth bottle.
"Ya nah I hate myself a lil more e'ry day fam."
He twists the top off his beer and throws it on the floor.
"Not because ya caught me slackin', nah... It's coz I ain't been able to do a ting a bout it, I mean I could... But fam you distracted me from the strap for long enough. Man like Skrabz ain't used to showin' restraint, I ain't about delayin' my gratification blad I be used to gettin' it quick an' easy... I had to let it go though innit, kinda, for a while at least. I ain't gotta wait no more though, an' it be a good job too coz man like Skrabz be done wit' bidin' time like a Trump supporter, ya get me?... Now I know this shit go over your heads so before ya get it twisted my hat say Toll not MAGA, plus I ain't got time for politics anyway, not in the back nor in a votin' booth..."
He places his joint in his mouth and lights it, inhaling deeply.
"But shit, I digress innit... where was I?... I ain't gotta wait no more, Ohio. I ain't gotta put you aside to focus pon the strap no more, nah, I gotta go through ya to get to it. That be fine wit' me fam, in fact it be kinda fittin', it almost feel like that fate shit you been talkin' about..."
He takes a drink of beer.
"I ain't believe in fate fam, nah..."
His confident galre stays set on the camera as he takes a slow toke on his joint.
"To tell ya the truth, man like Skrabz ain't believe in nuttin' but man like Skrabz, standard!... Ya nah you said it yaself fam, now look I ain't about to quote ya verbatim coz on the real I couldn't get the cadence right. You got that slow, awkward, never done well in social situations vibe aboutchu so I'mma jus' paraphrase the shit, butchu said suttin' to Stephanie Sullivan about failin' to learn from our mistakes an' blah blah blah. Check the ting fam, coz man like Skrabz done made jus' three mistakes since he first touched down pon American soil an' he corrected two of 'em a few times over... You the outlier fam, you the exception not the rule. You jus' the one remainin' mistake I gotta fix on my way to gettin' what I'm owed..."
He takes a good long drink and a few deep toks on his joint before continuing.
"I heard you makin' masterpiece though, got ya lil mixin' fingers out pon the decks, nah you prolly strictly a computer producer innit, anyway you makin' a beat, right? It's what ya said, said you got the sound a man's head bouncing off the concrete as the baseline. Well man like Skrabz been known to duppy a beat in his time fam an' come Game Over I'mma tear yours to shreds, freestyle vibe innit, show you that we ain't all have to stick to the sheet music...
He shakes his head.
"I mean blad, do you draw wit' a stencil too?..."
He looks at the camera again, disdain etched on his face but a sly smile seeping through.
Yeah I wouldn't be surprised, butchu prolly only draw blood wit' a razor or suttin' edgy like that..."
He laughs and shakes his head.
"Ya nah some of 'em say you the favourite to walk out wit' the dub, fan poll vibe innit. I already done told 'em what I feel about a fan poll, I ain't about to repeat myself but rest assured man like Skrabz ain't a fan a fan opinions. But they do say you the favourite goin' into the ting, an' they argument be solid, kinda, especially after ya done bounced my head off the concrete an' caught yaself the biggest dub a season three so far. But ya see the ting is fam ain't none a that matter, not now. It ain't matter thatchu laughed off a Mic Check, it ain't matter that you slammed man through a table an' it ain't matter thatchu done pinned my shoulders to that car park floor. You might think that'd be the shit that motivate man like Skrabz but on the real we can go ahead an' remove it from the equation, scratch it out an' scrap it off. Coz truth is you standin' between me an' the big strap an' be all the motivation I need to put your vitamin D lackin self down an' make sure you ain't get up... That be all the motivation I need but it ain't all I got." Nah, it's fuck you fam, straight up. But there's some conflict in it, coz I seen you pon the socials, wait...
He raises his eyebrows sarcastically.
"You? Pon the socials?... For real?..."
He shakes his head.
"Anyway I seen you there, lettin' the Bossman know he owe you a shot at the big strap before man like Skrabz even dusted himself off. I respect the drive fam, the ting I despise is the two years previous you spent talkin' about straps ain't matter... Coz the ting you don't realise is when ya say shit like that you coppin' a squat on the work e'yrone in the back put in...
He looks at the camera, straight faced, a smile trying desperately to break out.
"But if you know anyting at all about man like Skrabz then you know he ain't give a shit about that!"
He laughs arrogantly, loudly but briefly.
"Nah, my prollem wit man like you, an' you ain't the first one fam there be a long line of 'em, but my prollem witchu sayin' the shit is this... For two years straight man like Skrabz kept the big strap shinin' bright, I kept it gleamin' nice, the way the lights hit it, that shit be lookin' real pretty fam e'ry time I showed up wit' it... An' you tellin' me you ain't care for it?... You ain't about that nah? Whatchu about then, fam? Horror movie cliches, effigies an' bullshit... Coz soon as you get the biggest dub a ya life you wanna cash in ya hype in for a title shot... Well unfortunately for you it be man like Skrabz that been sent to collect an' you owe him the hype plus interest, an' his swag sack been a lil too empty for a minute so he be about to stuff in e'ryting ya got an' then some."
He takes a few deep tokes on his joint and finishes his sixth beer. After another few tokes on his joint he reaches for another beer, his seventh bottler. He twists the top off and again throws it accross the trailer.
"Then there be the mystery bod innit, Miss or Mister Who The Fuck. Yeah they been talkin' about who they think it could be, those type a fans that talk about those type a tings, in those type places that they talk about 'em. The rumour mill been runnin' wild. There be some big free agents out there right now an' anyone of 'em could show up at Game Over. E'ybody wanna know who it is, they prayin' to they lord Meltzer for an' his Holy sources, they wanna know if they fantasy bookin' right, an' when it turn out they they gonna cry about it like they known to do. Well wonder no more fam, man like Skrabz has got the scoop an' he gonna give it to ya free a charge, no monthly sub required.... Word is it could be Lance Mikes an' fam an I'm prayin' for it... They say it could be Jansen Myrrh an' I hope it is... They say it could be man like Forge an' I got my grubby fingers crossed for him... They say it could be Rock an' Roll God, Deuce Holmes, Raine Young, Terry Marshall, Space Lord, Ricky Stanton... They say it could be any an' all of 'em but it ain't matter, coz man like Skrabz gonna catch the dub an it jus' be a matter a time until he raise the strap too."
He takes a drink of beer and a toke on his joint before continuing.
"Ya nah there be a lot a talk about motivations innit, we all got 'em. Some of 'em do it for they family, some of do it for fame, some of it do for money. Some of 'em do it coz they like the spotlight, they love the cameras, they wanna see they name pon the poster. Man like be a lil dif'rent innit. I ain't care about none a that fam, never will. Ia in't wanna be the face a nuttin. I ain't need ya acknowledgement. I ain't headin' up no tables fam man'll sit where he wants and put his hands straight in ya plate."
He pauses and takes another drink of beer..
"This the part where I'm s'posed say some obvious suttin', suttin', Game Over shit, right? Yeah I can't wait to hear from 'em a dozen times when I watch they shit."
He shakes his head.
"I ain't play games though fam, nah. I put in work.
He takes a deep toke on his joint.
"So this Sunday there only gonna be one ting that be over fam."
He locks his stare onto the camera and takes another long toke on his joint.
Off Camera Hotel Room MGM Grand Penthouse Suite Las Vegas, Nevada
Stephanie Sullivan could be seen at a huge penthouse suite in Las Vegas, Nevada. She was clad in nothing but a bathrobe and a pair of slippers. She slowly walked over to what could be seen a living room area and also dressed very similar was Robert Mack. He could be seen opening a bottle of Dom Perignon Rose Gold Champagne. He smirks as the cork is popped and he slowly begins to pour the over the top expensive bottle of champagne for the both of them. Stephanie walks over looking into the eyes of Robert Mack before grabbing him by his face and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. She leaves a red lipstick stain on his lips as a smile escapes her lips.
“Somebody is getting super fancy tonight. I didn’t expect you to pull out an expensive bottle of champagne…”
Robert smiles as he looks back at the sexy woman.
“Of course I was going to pull it out… I only wish to offer the absolute best for such a beautiful woman. Whatever you want is yours and I find being right here the most happiest place on the planet right now…”
Stephanie nods her head with a wicked grin as she looks back at Robert.
“Thank you and I enjoy being here alone right by your side. I will say that your wife Katrina can go fuck herself. Who does she honestly think she is having the audacity to fire me, let alone putting me in the ring with Gabriel Ohio because she is upset over me beating her ass at Mile High Spectacular3 or maybe she is even more upset that I continue to have moments like this with you! Whatever the reason it’s apparent that she is taking her role as Vice President of Talent Relations too heart…”
Stephanie tries to grab the champagne but Robert grabs at her hand and he smiles at her.
“Don’t worry about her abusive use of power. I know that episode of Throw Down was one of the lowest ever. I am just happy that you were able to get the hell out of there before Gabriel did any real damage to you. I wouldn’t worry about anything because who do you happen to be in this penthouse suite with right now?!”
Stephanie however just shakes her head viciously as she continues to vent.
“It’s still bullshit though. This Bitch openly told everyone in her promo against me that I am a beautiful woman. She had no issue saying she knows I have a great future ahead of me among other things. I beat her in one match and immediately she tries to change everything about my career. She fires me! She went as far as to have me removed off of the website. Gives me a bullshit future endeavored message and treats me like I wasn’t about to start peaking in this company. I do deserve better than that, and it’s ridiculous that I have to even go through any of that!”
Robert smiles as he begins to share his heart.
“I understand how you feel but this is some of the stuff that I do know to be a fact. Truth is as much as she thought she was accomplishing you have to remember I make the FINAL decisions in the company. She can fire you but that doesn’t mean I can’t bring you back with an even BETTER contract and one where she can’t mess with what you are doing. Like I said I am here to take care of you babe and I wouldn’t worry about anything she does. It’s my decisions that matter. I get what I want and right now I can personally say that you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon…”
Stephanie gets up and the seductive one sits right down on Robert’s lap as she wraps her arms around him.
“Oh is that a fact, what about my spot in the penitentiary match. Katrina also ripped that away from me and I felt like I could have used that as a spring board to prove that not only I could wrestle but I am on the verge of being the next TOP star in this company.”
Robert looks right into her eyes.
“Of course you will have your spot back into that match. I told you that I have no qualms giving you the entire world. A woman like you deserves ONLY the best and I will happily give it to you. As far as being in that match, I could easily make an announcement right now reinstating you OR why don’t we save it for the actual event. Keep people guessing all the way to the final moment! You deserve to have a huge advantage going into that match and I can’t think of a better way to give you the entire world than by holding out for a few moments until it really matters. With the surprise element you could come right into that match and truly do what you do best. So go out there and shock the world like I know you can…”
Stephanie licks her lips seductively.
“Oh you don’t have to worry about me. That’s what I plan to do! I have it so good and I do love how you treat me so well. Come Gave Over everybody will know in one way or another that I truly have arrived…”
Admin: There's this too. We can turn this chatroom into a par-dookie!
May 12, 2021 16:00:11 GMT -6
Admin: I'll be getting off of Twitter soon, and fully committing to EFedder within the next few days. If you haven't joined EFedder yet, you should. 💪💯💯 It's the greatest thing created for efedding in a long time.
May 13, 2021 15:05:01 GMT -6
Admin: Note that the deadlines have changed. I made the change for the convenience of the other judges.
May 17, 2021 15:21:30 GMT -6
Admin: Hope everyone is enjoying their 4th of July weekend/week/day! 💪💯💯
Jul 4, 2021 14:22:58 GMT -6
Admin: Where do yall hist photos? I'm thinking about switching sites, because I'm paying a monthly subscription for Photobucket and they got watermarks back on my images. I'm guessing it's a glitch or something, but it's already been two days.
Aug 7, 2021 6:56:18 GMT -6
The Purge: I use Imgur - and I've never paid a cent for their services, and no water marks
Aug 7, 2021 8:48:13 GMT -6
Deleted: o.o Lord, Rob! Get away from Photobucket ASAP! I’m with Haircin — use Imgur. It’s way better and costs nothing.
Aug 8, 2021 16:28:35 GMT -6
Admin: I appreciate yall! ✊💯💯 Ima look into it this week. Apologies to everyone if some of the images for the show tonight have that Photobucket watermark. I didn't have the time today obviously to make any switches. But I will make time this week. 💯💯
Aug 8, 2021 17:43:04 GMT -6
Admin: Katrina will probably be happy too as she was just telling me I was crazy for paying monthly for a photo host. Lol.
Aug 8, 2021 17:44:00 GMT -6
Admin: ***NOTE*** I moved the deadline up 12 hours to give the judges an extra day to read over the rps.
Aug 10, 2021 15:29:37 GMT -6
Admin: Started messing with Imgur today and confirmed to myself that Imgur was the original photo host I was using for Season One and the beginning of Season Two of MHW. Something made me mad and thats when I switched to Photobucket. I don't remember what though.
Aug 12, 2021 16:08:47 GMT -6
Admin: Ima still switch back to it though, because the Photobucker watermarks are still showing up on some images.
Aug 12, 2021 16:09:19 GMT -6
Admin: ***Just A Reminder*** The new deadline is less than 24 hours away. 💪💯💯
Aug 20, 2021 9:45:58 GMT -6
cmosh: Marisol Vilaró is Spanish, she is from Spain
Sept 14, 2021 22:50:17 GMT -6
Admin: Noted 💪💯💯 So I can get Rrina to teach me how to pronounce her name.
Sept 15, 2021 15:35:32 GMT -6
cmosh: Don't worry I don't know how to pronounce it either. She is actually played by someone else, so it is sometimes hard to do RP's with them due to our work schelduce but I am alound to use the character over here
Sept 15, 2021 19:28:12 GMT -6
Admin: Trying something different with the match writing, based off of research and just to try something new. It's a hit or miss concept, so feedback would be appreciated. ThrowDown will also debut the new layout concept. AMMO will start with that new layout...
Sept 18, 2021 8:35:55 GMT -6
Admin: It happens, brudda!
Sept 19, 2021 19:49:09 GMT -6