Candles flicker in little votive glasses. There's a huge and tarnished metal crucifix on the wall, old and ornate. There's a creak of a wooden bench as someone sits down, thick fingers moving into view. The dark beads of a rosary are twined around the fingers of one hand. The other thumb and forefinger circle each bead slowly, moving down the line.
ENIGMA: Father, forgive me. I have heard the whispers. I have felt the ripples. Even now, the violence calls to me – sweet, sweet susurrations, robbing me of sleep. Every time they call my name, I feel a few more grains of sanity eroding away. Soon there will be nothing left. They do not know what they ask. They are playing a game, poking the neutered beast with a stick, secure in the promise of the bars that contain.
The voice is a rough whisper, the slightly accented cadence unmistakable as the man who calls himself ENIGMA.
ENIGMA: Holy Mother, have mercy. The ignorant, they do not understand that this payment comes in a form they will never understand. They clamor. They cajole. They try to tempt but what do they know about the ultimate price? What do they know of a place beyond the clouds?
Those fingers move in silence, beads clicking together as the flames flicker in an unseen breeze.
ENIGMA: Dear Father, I am sorry. I was never good enough. I was never strong enough. The scars on my skin speak of the pain. The lines on my face sing songs of joy. They know nothing about me, about the rivers of agony I have crossed to be here. I have seen too much. They have seen nothing. Everything. The blood flows endlessly, without my intervention – eternal. The hearts of these rivers are pitch-black. They beat not for love of life or for love of death, but BECAUSE of those two extremes. The rivers do not judge. They do not lie. They are kind enough to let me taste the death inside, allowing me to taste the life in me. I… apologize.
Leaning forward, those colorless eyes are visible now, ghostly white in their soot-smeared sockets.
ENIGMA: Solnyshko, I have failed you. I killed myself a thousand times for these stolen moments with you. I slashed four miles of wrists for my freedom – I do not deserve it. They are right. I remember it all now. All the lies. All the things that I have done and I… I would do them all again if it meant I could feel your light one more time. They do not know. They do not understand. You – we have nothing to prove. You are PERFECT. I am broken. I will always be, flawed to the end. They want to tear me open. They have seen the darkness, where it hides deep down and they wish to touch it.
Those fingers flex, the beads clashing and clicking together before the strand snaps. They scatter and clatter and that hand opens, blood streaking the palm where the metal cross pierced through even as it was distorted into something unrecognizable.
ENIGMA: The black water calls my name. I have no choice but to answer. I am no God. I am nothing like you, Aylas. You want the MONSTER? As you wish. Tonight, you will see. They will all see: this is the beginning.
He snarls, lunging towards the camera and the candles all snuff at once, nothing but darkness claiming the screen. The last thing heard is the haunting promise, uttered in that dead calm voice.
ENIGMA: Welcome to your end.
"Before all things reborn again. You learn the painful breath of time."
The lights in the arena fall low, allowing small pops of bright blue and purple to exclusively illuminate the environment. When the opening beat of Gojira’s “Born in Winter” descends into its harsher melody, a thick black fog floods the entrance stage. From within, two figures weave their way through. They reveal their identities as they step out onto the stage. Damian and Tara Ayla stare out in the distance as if they were transported from the dark abyss into the breathing world. Their faces were taken away by their individual masks until they take their lover’s mask. Once they do, Damian’s stony, hostile expression faces the camera. Tara steps in front of him, glaring out into the world that she despises. The two then make their way down the ramp.
NINA LAWRENCE: Introducing first...exiting through the fog of Silent Hill, Maine...weighing in at a combined weight of 387 pounds...DAMIAN AND TARA AYLA!
Their march down the ramp is quiet, methodical, and dismissive of the audience. Once they reach the middle, Tara stops. Damian follows suit, slowly drawing up his arms. The lights in the arena begin to brighten until Tara raises her hand and drops it abruptly. In complete darkness, the audience lingers until Damian and Tara both throw their arms up again. With a flurry of an uncontrollable, rapid sequence of blue, purple, and white lighting, the entire arena is lit up again. Damian’s arms are over his chest in an X while Tara has her hands in prayer. The two of them break away and continue onto the ring apron.
Damian lifts Tara onto the ring apron before scaling the steel steps. Tara waits there for her husband as he gets close. He then reaches his hand onto her cheek, caressing her lovingly. But then he clasps her face and sends her backward over the top rope. Tara, however, lands with a perfect backflip. Damian dips below the middle rope and enters. Tara’s waiting for him in the center of the ring, her arm upward for him to take into his grip. He moves behind her sensually and drapes his arm around her neck. Tara lifts her free hand up towards his face, delicately dragging her nails against his cheek until the lights stabilize.
"Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus
Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus"
A dense fog rolls out along the entrance ramp, the haunting whispered chant growing in volume along with the pulsing tempo of the music. A hulking horned beast appears from the gloom, slowly and methodically stalking towards the ring. His leather doomsday cloak is open over his massive chest, each step bringing him further into the light until "The Monster Machine" is revealed in full. The dark and Gothic chanting continues, music swelling in volume as each pulse in the tempo and each measured step of the monster are in sync.
NINA LAWRENCE: Introducing their opponents...first...fighting out of Manhattan, New York...weighing in at 275 pounds...he is the Monster Machine...ENIGMA!
"Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita
Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita"
ENIGMA ascends the ring steps and subtly wipes his feet on the apron, turning towards the crowd as he removes the horned skull mask, revealing his soot-streaked face and colorless eyes. Throwing his head back, he sprays a bloody mist into the air before letting out a snarl. When his head lowers, blood drips from his chin, down his heaving chest.
"See I believe in money, power, and respect
First You get the money
Then you get the muthafuckin, power
After you get the fuckin' power
Muthafuckas will respect you"
NINA LAWRENCE: Introducing next...from Manhattan, New York...weighing in at 260 pounds...he is the Call Your Shot Tournament Winner...Twisted Thoughtz...JOE MONTOURI!
Pyros shoot off like it's the 4th of July. When the smoke clears, JMont's standing on the entrance way with a grin that all the fans can't stand. He walks down the aisle to cheers and boos and just laughs it off. When he gets into the ring, he climbs up the top turnbuckle, looks around then raises his arms like he is the king of the world. The music cuts out into an eerie silence as the lights dim.
DING! DING! DING!
When the match bell rings, it’s Damian and Joe starting off the match. Damian doesn’t move much, taking methodical steps around the circumference of the ring. Montouri, on the other hand, paces briskly, eyeing the former Excellence Champion. As the gap closes, Joe goes for a collar-and-elbow tie up. Damian ducks underneath it and continues walking. Joe, one of the longer tenured wrestlers on the roster, nods his head. He turns, telling Damian that he shouldn’t be worried, he’ll take it easy on him. Damian stares at Joe, an eyebrow lifting slowly. He checks in on his wife, who softly shrugs. Damian invites Joe for the collar-and-elbow, and Joe gets the better of the tie-up. He digs a headlock in tight and parades around the ring with Damian in tow. Damian plants his hand on the small of Joe’s back before sending him into the ropes. Damian ducks underneath Joe, who comes back and floors him with a shoulder block. Joe points to Tara, asking if he left all their skill at home or does she have it. Tara ignores him, but Damian takes Joe by the ankle. He lifts up, drawing the older man’s leg up. Joe hobbles on his foot before Damian kicks the leg out. Inadvertently, it causes Joe to split his legs. He holds his groin, motioning to the referee about the illegality of the move. The referee just tells him that it was accidental. Before Joe can continue, Damian picks him up and sends him to their corner.
Once Tara’s in, she takes it to Joe. It was to the point that Damian lifted his hands. Tara batters Joe with repeated knees to the stomach before going for mounted punches. Joe guards himself but manages to escape through knowing when to exert his strength. Once he’s back to a standing position, Tara stalks him and goes for a Bicycle Kick. Joe takes her leg and pulls her into a backbreaker. Tara doesn’t stay down for long, getting up as Joe attempts to line up another move. She retaliates with a duck and a neckbreaker that sends him down. She heads over and tags in her husband again, graciously offering Joe’s leg for Damian to take. When he does, he hits a grounded Dragon Screw Leg Whip. From there, he secures an Inverted Indian Deathlock. Joe grabs the bottom rope but Tara kicks his hand away, giving him a wry grin as he looks on in horror.
Joe, soon, has to pull his way over to grab the other rope. Once Damian lets go, Joe’s hobbling on one leg. Damian stalks him, kicking out at the back of the hurt leg. Joe continues to hold on, looking for the closest opening. Enigma patrols the ropes, trying to find the best place for Joe to tag him in. Damian’s hubris does catch him as Joe digs deep. Despite the pain shooting in his leg, Joe gets up with a picture perfect dropkick as Damian tries for Phantasmatis (Feint Front Kick Into Discus Back Elbow)! It hits the former Excellence Champion in the back of the head. Joe inches close to Enigma. Tara waits for her husband to get up, holding out her hand for him. Joe gets the tag on Enigma and the big man is in, already on fire! He takes Damian off the mat and sends him up and over with a Release German Suplex! As Damian gets to his feet, Enigma charges in, dropping him with a Shoulder Strike. Enigma lets out a roar as he waits for Damian to get to his feet. Kick, punch, discus elbow! Damian doesn’t fall, but that plays to Enigma’s game.
Sending Damian to the corner, Enigma runs in and connects with a Corner Slingshot Splash! Enigma lifts his foe up and sends him careening with a choke toss. A bit of ring generalship comes into play as Damian tags in Tara. Enigma was turning as it happened, therefore he didn’t catch. Joe tries to point it out, but Enigma has a full head of steam. He charges in and drops Damian with his signature Big Boot! Damian slips under the bottom rope, escaping any further punishment. Running towards the ropes, Enigma looks to go high for the spectacle but Tara doesn’t let it happen. She interrupts with a leaping neckbreaker, flooring the big man. Once he gets to a kneeling position, Tara connects with Murder of Crows (Step-Up Enzuigiri)! As she looks to secure the big man into Undertow (Headscissors Armbar), Joe makes his return to the ring. He blasts her with a running clothesline! The crowd pans the interference, but Joe doesn’t care. The referee admonishes him for the act, but he merely shoves them away. He begs Tara to get up, so he can make the difference between them known. But first, he makes sure to drag Enigma to his corner, so he can get the blind tag.
Once Tara’s to her feet, he tries for the JKO (Jumping Cutter) but Tara shoves him to the mat. As he gets to his feet, Damian obliterates him with Heaven’s Divide (Western Lariat)! Joe falls to the mat hard, holding his neck. Damian peels him off the mat, and Tara waits. The hunger for destruction resonates in her eyes. Damian, the ever devoted husband, offers JMont to her. She smiles as he holds JMont’s head to her. She scales the top rope, where Damian hangs Joe’s face above his knee. Tara leaps off, drilling Joe’s face against her husband’s knee with a Curb Stomp! Joe’s face cracks against Damian’s knee and he falls onto the mat, clearly out. Tara flips his body over and goes for the pin. Damian, meanwhile, cuts Enigma off as he tries to rush into the ring.
While Tara covers Joe, blood masks his face. Tara takes distinct joy in burying her forearm against his potentially broken face.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
NINA LAWRENCE: Here are your winners by pinfall…Tara and Damian Ayla!
INFINITE PRO WRESTLING PRESENTS:
ADRENALINE XV: THE NEW BEGINNING.LIVE! from the Braehead Arena in Glasgow, Scotland.
Monday, February 20th, 2023.
7:00 P.M. (GMT) – On BT Sport 1 and FITE +
—
MAIN EVENT
INFINITE POWER TAG TEAM TOURNAMENT FINALHYPNOS and LETHE vs TARA FENIX and JENNIE FENIX vs PRICE and NATE PIERCE
HEADLINER
NON-CHAMPIONSHIP MATCHMYOJIN ©️ vs BIANCA
UPPER MIDCARD
INFINITE PRO WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCHJACK HAGGARD and CLANCY HAGGARD ©️ vs GENNIFER SWAN and ILLANIA KARN
MIDCARD
SINGLES MATCHSTEFAN McCAIN vs MALAKI LEIATO
LOWER MIDCARD
THE TRIAL OF TOMMY HATE — SECOND TRIALTOMMY HATE vs JUDITH
OPENER
SINGLES MATCHJOHN BLADE vs ROXIE GEARHEART
“Are you sure?”
The camera opens to the office of the owner, which is handily not on sight at the House of Blues, but rather just a few buildings down within Disney Springs. The House of Mouse isn’t visible, but the eccentric Disney feel is prevalent within the background of the floor length windows. Ollie Dorito reposes on the heater, on his back as the foreground of the shot as well, before moving upwards to see Charlie Jones and Ophelia Knight in the background.
CHARLIE JONES: I have to be. Alex tells me that some of the girls at Wolfslair are going to need some recoupment training – one of Aaron’s roster, for certain, if they’re going to be ready to wrestle again. It’s not as if I want to step down, necessarily, but they’re my fam–
OPHELIA KNIGHT: I’m not accepting your resignation.
CHARLIE JONES: What?
OPHELIA KNIGHT: I understand that you have other duties to attend to. The camaraderie of Wolfslair has been spoken many times over and you all are very much family. Whatever you need to do there, please do.
Charlie crosses her leg, pursing her lips slightly.
CHARLIE JONES: It will be hard to manage things here though…
OPHELIA KNIGHT: You can do them remotely, and be present every other week. That’s the benefit of Zoom for Business. Suffice to say that I don’t like, particularly, how the last couple of weeks have gone on either show. I’ll deal with Aaron regarding the lost championship when it comes down to it, but with Lewis out – goddammit, I can’t believe I’m putting stock into that man… – with him out, I need someone to still continue to run VICTORY visibly. With HOTDOGGATE now in the books, I have an aggravated comedian of an Excellence Champion that’s resorting to essentially paying off his friends to cause injuries to others. Meanwhile, Angel is engaging with Lachlan Kane still with a man who is not even employed in this company and causing psychological tension. Tara Ayla has an entire cult behind her. Beyond that, next week, we will have the Victory Championship match, as well as setting up for Jason Long’s next competition. I have a few names I’m tossing about, but with the bullshit…
She shakes her head, leaning on the table. Her phone rings, and she picks up without waiting a second. She listens, replies in an affirmative, and then presses her other hand to her eyes as she sets the phone down.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: And now I have an injured contender for the Excellence Championship who has to go get scans to see if his foot is mangled. It is…not something I can manage alone, unfortunately.
CHARLIE JONES: Very well. I’ll stick around and see what we can get done. Hopefully, tonight’s main event doesn’t go awry..I would hate to see more injury to possible contenders. I’ll head back to the venue.
Charlie stands and heads for the door.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate your willingness to stay on, even in a limited fashion.
CHARLIE JONES: Well…
The younger Jones sibling stops at the door, turns her head and shakes it, disapprovingly.
CHARLIE JONES: It’s not as if you gave me a choice.
The camera cuts back to the backstage area, where it appears that Joe Montuori is being helped into an ambulance. Several road agents and backstage staff are bracing him as he hops on one leg through the backstage area.
JOE MONTUORI: I can’t believe how fuckin dangerous that was. My career could be over and if it is.. Let’s just say you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.
Montuori is ranting at nobody specific, but his beet-red face and twisted up expression effectively convey his anger and discomfort having taken a serious fall during his tag team encounter with Enigma against Mr & Mrs Ayla.
JOE MONTUORI: With the legal representation I’ve got, I’ll own this whole fucking company.
From the side, a seemingly unfamiliar person enters the shot and sidles up to Joe Montuori. He hastily shirks himself out of a large black coat and lays it over a table off to the side. He replaces one of the road agents, bracing Montuori’s weight over his shoulder. Montuori looks confused at first.
The man is Stephen Stratford. A man who had been involved in several long-standing and derogatory exchanges with Joe Montuori publicly as of late. But his demeanor is not one of anger, or aggressiveness. Instead, it is concern.
STEPHEN STRATFORD: It’s okay Joe, it’s going to be okay. We will get this dealt with. Try not to put any pressure on it. I’ll call Mia and get her to meet us at the hospital. I’ll come with you, in case anyone gets any ideas about taking advantage of you in this state.
JOE MONTUORI: Wha-huh?
Stratford shushes Joe, quelling any further interrogation into what is transpiring.
STEPHEN STRATFORD: We all want to sell a fight some day, Joe. I say a lot of things, but some things are more important than wrestling. Let’s make sure this is okay, then we can worry about the other stuff.
As the door to the ambulance is closed with Joe Montuori and Stephen Stratford inside, a slow pan backwards brings Stratford’s jacket back into the shot - a black trenchcoat with silver sequinned angel wings across the shoulder blades.
Ding, ding, ding!
NINA LAWRENCE: Ladies and gentlemen… The following contest is the First Blood Match and it is your main event of the evening!
The Crowd: FIRST BLOOD! FIRST BLOOD! FIRST BLOOD!
NINA LAWRENCE: Introducing first, from London, England, he weighs in at one hundred seventy-five pounds… He is “THE INTELLECTUAL EVOLUTION” NATHANIELLLLLL DIXON!
"And this is how it feels when I..."
[/color]
As the lights of the arena fade and acoustic instruments resonate throughout, the flashes of the cameras are the only illumination in the dark. Then a red spotlight shines on the stage and Nathaniel Dixon has made his presence known. He smiles when the lead vocals of Michael Barnes set the mood with “Breathe Into Me (Remix Acústica)” by Red.
“Ignore the words you spoke to me...
And this is where I lose myself when I keep running away from you!”
[/color]
His fan reception is that of mixed reactions, although some of the fans take special exception to him in deep admiration. Knowing this, he chuckles softly and saunters down the ramp.
“And this is who I am when, when I don't know myself anymore
And this is what I choose when it's all left up to me…”
[/color]
The Intellectual Evolution extends his right hand to a lady in the audience who accepts it and, like a gentleman, he kisses her hand. While she fangirls, he makes his way around the ring, the red spotlight following him with every step. His earth-colored eyes are focused on the ring itself. Nathaniel ascends the steel steps, enters the ring between the ropes, and he gauges the fans. A sadistic smile forms across his face before the spotlight goes out, leaving everyone in the dark.
“Breathe your life into me, I can't feel you
I'm falling... falling faster...
[/color]
Breathe your life into me, I still need you
I'm falling… falling, breathe into me! Breathe into me!
(BREATHE!)”
[/color]
The fans stir in anticipation as red pyros shoot from all four corners of the ring. The lights immediately come back on and Nathaniel takes a bow in the center of the ring with a confident smirk.
LINCOLN PHELPS: Y’know, I almost feel bad for Nathaniel.
GREYSON MARKS: Oh? Why do you say that, Lincoln?
LINCOLN PHELPS: Because he signed the Devil’s Document! That’s pretty much a death warrant. Tara’s going to tear him limb from limb!
GREYSON MARKS: I don’t know. Mrs. Ayla is extremely dangerous, but something tells me Mr. Dixon is the same way. He’s unpredictable!
NINA LAWRENCE: Aaaaand his opponent! Being accompanied to the ring by Bash Daddy, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, he weighs in at two hundred twenty pounds… He is “THE UNPROFESSIONAL” CASANOVAAAAAA ENGLISH!
The lights go dim as the eerie voice of a former member of the notorious Manson Family rings through the arena.
"yeah, I
remember her saying:
I'm already dead... I'm already dead... I'm
already dead..."
The lights flicker revealing Casanova English on the stage as the voice continues.
"You're going to get up and scream. I'm
already dead... I'm already dead... I'm already dead..."
You're
going to get up and-
Burn an x in your head."
The lights turn back on as Casanova English takes a long drag off his already lit cigarette, his leather jacket hung loosely over his shoulders. He scowls at the crowd before Bash Daddy slowly walks from behind the curtains to join him - the towering man shirtless, wearing black jeans and a leather mask.
English and Bash Daddy look at one another and smirk before walking down the ramp slowly. English stops to blow smoke in the general direction of some fans. Bash Daddy walks over to the corner between the guard rails and the ring. English slowly struts up the steps onto the ring apron. He hangs his jacket on the turnbuckle before stepping through the second rope. English smirks. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he blows a cloud of smoke straight up into the air and tosses his coffin nail into the crowd. English laughs as people move trying to avoid the ember. Bash Daddy glares from the outside at Casanova's opponent.
LINCOLN PHELPS: Well, first we have to see if Dixie can survive the Unprofessional!
GREYSON MARKS: There’s no denying Mr. English’s lethality. Anything goes in a first blood match. No disqualification. Weapons encouraged.
LINCOLN PHELPS: Top it off with the fact that English LOVES deathmatches. Greyson, Natey-boy is screwed.
GREYSON MARKS: And here I thought you would be more supportive of your fellow Englishman…
For the briefest of moments, Nathaniel Dixon looks out of the ring at Bash Daddy. His eyes immediately move to Casanova English who beckons him in the center of the ring. With a smirk, Nathaniel moves to meet Casanova -- and raises his left arm to block a punch! Nathaniel blasts Casanova’s face with a shotei and causes him to stagger back. The referee signals for the bell--
Ding, ding, ding!
--and the match is officially underway! Casanova’s recovery is quick and he rushes Nathaniel, but Nathaniel sidesteps and ensnares him from behind. Forcing Casanova into a crucifix hold, Nathaniel begins to level him with crucifix elbows. Casanova grits his teeth from the blows, but his high pain tolerance keeps him stable, moving forward with surprising force. He throws Nathaniel over his shoulder and onto the mat, even trying to stomp on him, but Nathaniel rolls out of the way. When Nathaniel gets to his feet, however, Casanova’s on the move, catching him off-guard with a leaping armbar. Casanova plants Nathaniel onto the mat, torquing the armbar, but Nathaniel grits his teeth and endures. He rolls them over, seizes Casanova’s hair, and repeatedly slams him face-first into the mat until Casanova releases him.
GREYSON MARKS: That’s one way to break out of a hold!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Meh. That’s simple shit. Nothing impressive as far as I’m concerned.
Rising to his feet, Dixon shakes out his right arm to return the feeling. He watches English begin to get up and London’s Master Manipulator moves in, blasting him with “Uncharismatic” (Mafia Kick)! English falls onto the mat while Dixon chuckles softly. There is a mixture of reactions from the fans, though they are mostly boos. On the outside, Bash Daddy glares at Dixon who casually wags his fingers at him. Dixon backpedals to gain some distance between himself and English. He watches English slowly rise up using the ropes to help him. With a running start, Dixon looks like he’s going for “Blood in the Darkness” (Shining Wizard) -- except English pulls the top rope and ducks down, sending Dixon up and over!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Hah! Somebody was a little too cocky!
GREYSON MARKS: English telegraphed Dixon’s Blood in the Darkness and sent him onto the floor!
Some of the nearby fans look over the barricade. Dixon grits his teeth and shakes his head. Rising to his feet, English taunts Dixon from inside the ring. Just as Dixon begins to stand up, Bash Daddy seizes him from behind, and Irish whips him into the steel steps! This draws boos from the fans who don’t appreciate the outside interference. However, there are no disqualifications. Dixon hisses upon impact and lies on the padded floor for a moment. Inside the ring, English grins and ascends one of the corners of the ring -- the closest one to Dixon. The Unprofessional doesn’t give Dixon a chance to recover as he takes a leap of faith, nailing him with his “Newfie Noggin Hug” (Diving Headbutt)! Some of the fans applaud this, though most of them are still unhappy. Dixon turns on his side with a groan, his left hand clutching his chest where English hit him.
GREYSON MARKS: Well, Casanova hits Nathaniel with his Newfie Noggin Hug -- thanks to interference from Bash Daddy!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Hey! No DQ’s, Greyson. Deal with it! Still, Casanova’s gotta become more violent to draw Natey-boy’s blood!
Shaking off a few cobwebs from the landing, Casanova looks under the ring apron for something. Nathaniel turns on all fours and begins to crawl. The referee oversees both men from inside the ring. Retrieving a steel chair, Casanova rises to his feet and grabs the legs of the weapon. He stalks Nathaniel who is trying to get to his feet -- except Casanova intercepts this by slamming the steel chair across his back! The fans boo with disapproval as Nathaniel falls back down onto the floor with a groan. Casanova doesn’t give him a second before he drives the steel chair across his back again! Nathaniel grits his teeth and hisses from the punishment.
Tossing the slightly bent steel chair aside, Casanova returns to looking for another weapon under the ring. Nathaniel tries to use the precious few seconds to simply breathe. The camera is able to capture Casanova’s grin as he pulls out a few light tubes. Some of the deathmatch fans are roaring with excitement! Turning towards Bash Daddy, Casanova points to Nathaniel.
CASANOVA ENGLISH: Restrain his tea-drinking smarmy ass!
Some of the fans boo the blatant insult. Bash Daddy nods and shadows Nathaniel who’s barely getting to his feet. Seizing his arms from behind, Bash Daddy easily drags him towards Casanova. Casanova’s friend and manager holds him in a precarious position while Casanova grips a light tube in each hand. The referee can only watch; the rules of first blood cannot stop this!
LINCOLN PHELPS: This match is about to end!
GREYSON MARKS: Is this really it…?
Perhaps it’s the lighting, but there’s a shimmer in Nathaniel’s eyes. Casanova grins and swings the light tubes towards his face with such force -- ONLY FOR NATHANIEL TO DUCK DOWN AND BASH DADDY TAKES THE SHATTERING BLOWS! Some of the fans rise up with excitement, watching Bash Daddy release Nathaniel with a groan. Casanova is beside himself, completely off-guard when the Intellectual Evolution capitalizes with--
GREYSON MARKS: THE LONDON EYE!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Oi, what the fuck?!
“The London Eye” (Front Flip DDT) makes its mark and English is down! Dixon staggers for a moment before catching himself on the guard rail. A couple of fans pat him on the back, some of them cheering him on. It’s a strange twist of fate! In a matter of seconds, Dixon pulls himself away from the fans and narrows his eyes.
NATHANIEL DIXON: Don’t touch me, peasants. I don’t know where your bloody hands have been.
Naturally, this receives some boos from the crowd! Looking between English and Bash Daddy, Dixon shakes his head and moves to pull English up. He rolls English into the ring and follows suit, rising to his feet. Dixon reaches down to his right boot and draws something out of it. Some of the fans are roaring with excitement at what it is!
LINCOLN PHELPS: You’ve gotta be kidding me! Is that…?!
GREYSON MARKS: It is! It's a piano wire!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Oi! You aren’t Agent 47, prick!
Or maybe he is? Dixon lays low and stalks English who slowly begins to stand up. Smirking, Dixon shadows English and ensnares the piano wire around his neck! English grits his teeth, gripping the wire and trying to pull it away, but Dixon’s hold is tight!
GREYSON MARKS: I’ve seen Mr. Dixon use the piano wire in another company. He made Kai Morgan bleed!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Bloody Hell! Casanova’s gotta escape this or he’s royally screwed!
The Unprofessional is in quite a predicament. If he’s not careful, the Lord of Charisma can draw blood from his fingers and that will end the match! Just when it seems like Dixon’s about to strangle him with the assassin-like weapon, the lights go out!
GREYSON MARKS: What the hell is this?!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Some kinda blackout!?
When the lights do come back on? Two members of Tara Ayla’s Cult, Bunny and Faceless, stand in the ring with Nathaniel and Casanova! They’re armed with bats! The referee is shocked by this; the fans are a mixture of boos and cheers. Nathaniel narrows his eyes at the masked cultists. Faceless takes a swing at Nathaniel’s face, but Nathaniel releases the piano wire, freeing Casanova, and both men are just out of dodge! Faceless, however, holds the bat completely still after a point -- in reality, he feigned the swing. Faceless and Bunny cackle before the lights flicker, then they’re standing outside of the ring. Bash Daddy looks at them with narrowed eyes.
Nathaniel attempts to retrieve the piano wire, but Casanova stomps on his right hand, causing him to let out a yowl of pain! Casanova retrieves an ice pick -- from where, who knows?! He plants his right foot down on Nathaniel’s chest and lunges downward, stabbing Nathaniel’s temple with the sharp tool! The fans boo while Casanova does this in rapid succession, breaking Nathaniel’s skin with the puncture wound and drawing his blood! Seeing this, the referee signals for the bell!
DING, DING, DING!
NINA LAWRENCE: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner of the match… “THE UNPROFESSIONALLLLLL” CASANOVAAAAAAAAAAAA ENGLISH!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Just as I expected, the Unprofessional is victorious! Well done, you crazy fucker!
GREYSON MARKS: Only because of Mrs. Ayla’s cult! Mr. Dixon might have won if they hadn’t come out here!
LINCOLN PHELPS: When you play the Devil’s Game, you either bow down or you suffer!
“Real Solution #9” by White Zombie plays from the PA system -- just over the booing of the fans. The referee demands Casanova withdraw. Only with one more stab to Nathaniel’s bloody temple does the Unprofessional do this. He raises his own arms in victory and scowls at the referee before exiting the ring. He rejoins Bash Daddy whose eyes have never left Bunny and Faceless. Casanova shrugs and directs Bash Daddy to follow him up the ramp. Bunny giggles at the two leaving ringside before nodding to Faceless. The two enter the ring and immediately scare off the referee with threatening waves of their bats.
LINCOLN PHELPS: Oh-ho-ho, this oughta be good!
GREYSON MARKS: What do you mean?! Nathaniel can’t defend himself!
Speaking of, blood drips profusely from Nathaniel’s temple. He turns on his side and slowly begins to get up… but when he looks up, he’s met with the eerie masks of Tara’s cultists. Without hesitation, Bunny and Faceless assault him with the bats! The fans are BOOING louder than ever, helplessly watching as they beat down the Head of the Dixon Family.
Strikes upon his arms and legs.
Tear him limb from limb.Strikes across his chest -- and back when he’s turned over.
Paralysis?Nathaniel can no longer cover his head when Faceless slams the bat to the back of his head! Finally, a wave of security runs out to force Bunny and Faceless away from Nathaniel’s unconscious form. A couple of EMTs rush in to check on him, all the while Bunny and Faceless laugh!
LINCOLN PHELPS: Well, my fellow Brit’s dead as a doornail.
GREYSON MARKS: . . .I can’t believe you.
The PWE logo flashes at the bottom as Dixon is tended to by staff, all the while Tara Ayla's Cult seems to have taken over the field in more ways than one.
#MADEOFEXCELLENCE
