[SEASON TWO PREMIERE] FPW The New Batch promo card

[marileeg17]

Feb 6, 2018 0:57:51 GMT Zeke said:

*Zeke appears on the screen*
Bobby, me and you. We meet again. You bested me once but that's before I found what I had this whole time. That's before I found the Freedom Fighters. But now Bobby, I have them on my side. I feed off of them. Don't believe me? Well, you'll find out soon enough. I'll see you soon Bobby.

After a few seconds of darkness, the FPW Facebook page clicks on to a live video, being done by none other than the master of Facebook Live himself, BO3.

BO3: They say a man with nothing left to lose has everything left to gain. When you've been where I have, when you've seen what I've seen, when you've hit rock bottom and needed to find the will to survive, you've lost everything. Zeke, I know we've tangled once before and I have no doubt we'll tangle again. You remind me of someone, someone I've never been close to other than the genes we share. Someone who at one point, I strived for his approval, for his acceptance.

You don't know me Zeke. You don't know how hard I worked to get to the top only to fall, not once, not twice, but three times. The first time, it was at the hands of my own brother, someone who you seem to channel in your own style. But if you think that means you're better than me...if you think that means you have an edge on me like he did...think again. The second time, I fell harder than the first, because not only did I lose my sense of self but I lost someone who I thought cared as deeply for me as I did her. And I lost it to a man who I trusted, who took me under his wing, who told me I could be more than just my last name. I was naive to think he wasn't using that name for his own gain. And then, it was like something inside of me...snapped. My battle with rage is no real secret, at least, it isn't now, but I had been able to keep things under control for the longest time. Then I chose to let it consume me and well, that's when I fell the third time. But this time, there was no one to get me back up. I had long since burned any bridges, any real relationships I had. For the first time in a long time, I was truly alone.

Bobby takes a deep breath and watches the reactions and comments, mostly negative but some positive, flashing across the screen. One particular comment catches his attention, " There's no need to talk about it, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.”

BO3: I understand that for all of you watching, my actions will speak louder than my words. I understand that my sob story is not one that is going to generate much sympathy given what I've done. But the fact of the matter is, for the first time in my entire life, I am finally doing something for myself. When I was eight years old I found out my father was the legendary Bob Orton Jr., my half-brother, the Viper Randy Orton. My lifelong love of wrestling finally had purpose. I knew what I had to do. I had to be the best I could be. I had to prove to them that I was worthy of the last name I never had the right to bear. I spent my life trying to live up to this ideal and when it all came crashing down, I spent the next part of my career trying to pretend it didn't affect me. But it did and everything I did from that point was to prove them wrong. I found myself with nothing to show for it. So now, this isn't about their approval, their acceptance, their respect. It's not about the way people I once called friends look at me. It's about me. It's about taking back control of MY life. You want more than words? Well, like Zeke said, you'll find out soon enough. 

[marileeg17]

Bobby walks down the hallway when suddenly he's confronted by Marcus, who has his phone in his hands and is mock applauding Bobby.

BO3: Marcus...It's nice to see you...

MAJ: Bravo kid, bravo! I mean, that part about how the orange jump suit gimmick changed you, oh man, you've probably got those idiot fans, I refuse to call them Freedom Fighters, eating out of the palm of your hand. And here I thought I was the troll master, but damn. Look at the comments. These people think you are actually here for redemption? Oh man, they are going to be in for a surprise when the Bastard rears his ugly head!

Bobby feels his body start to tense up. He takes a deep breath.

BO3: I'm glad my 'gimmick' of spending time in prison is amusing to you kid...But that was no joke. I lived it and it was the real deal. I hope for your sake you never have to go through an experience like that, or go through half of what I have in my short career. It hardens you. So try to keep a good head on your shoulder, before your ego gets so big it knocks itself off.

MAJ (smirks): Noted...But listen Bob-O, I'm not trying to make light of the whole prison thing. Must have been a real tough time getting through that. I mean, that's the real definition of getting buried...My point was actually to say, I respect the hell out of you. The stuff you did in 50-50, taking the company down with you on your way out, that right there is what every wrestler should aspire to. You didn't just set the bar, you were the bar, and well, I don't respect a lot of people in this business, especially not Trevor, screw that guy. But I do respect you and I respect even more how you are masterfully playing this crowd into thinking you're a changed man. I mean come on now, you're the Bastard, B...O...3, like you could ever really change if you even wanted to.

This seems to strike a nerve with Bobby who considers what Marcus said, a part of him wondering if the man could be right.

BO3: First off, I'm not the Bastard anymore. Second, you can take your respect and shove it. Marcus, I only really know you by reputation and you've certainly got one of those. I'm not your role model. I'm not a guy anybody should idolize or base their career off of. I'm an honest-to-God broken man and I'm honestly here to set things right. So you can think this is all some act, some grand swerve I've got in my pocket to fool everybody, but it's not. Actions speak louder...And whether you and I lock up in the future or not, you'll see by my actions that I'm not out to pull the wool over anybody's eyes. I'm just here to be Bobby again, the real Bobby.

Bobby goes to walk away but Marcus stops him, making a stark comment.

MAJ: That's a real shame. I didn't know they cut your balls off when you went to prison...

Immediately, Bobby turns back around and lunges for Marcus' throat causing the younger man to chuckle and causing Bobby to slowly release his grip, realizing what he just did.

MAJ: Now there's the Bobby I know and would love to have on my side! Seriously, come sit at Uncle Marcus' knee and let me show you how to get back to the top, back to the place where you were before you decided to go on this apology tour. That's not you Bob-O. I know the Bastard is still in there and together, you and I could take over this whole damn industry. Think about it, get back to me. You know where I'll be.

Marcus slides his trademark headphones back on and begins to whistle "Voices" as he walks away with a huge grin on his face. Bobby meanwhile, just looks at his hands that had only seconds ago started to choke Marcus, and sighs heavily.

[The_Aviator_GB]

In the week leading up to The New Batch and following MDE's refusal of Baker's challenge, videos begin to surface across social media of matches featuring Graham Baker using unfamiliar moves in the finishing sequences of his matches. In one, he counts a powerbomb into a roll-up, before delivering a Gutwrench Powerbomb to his opponent and putting him down on the mat. He delivers an armbreaker to the man, before following up by locking in a cross armbar and making him tap out. As the camera catches Graham as he celebrates, he points at it, and mouths the letters 'MDE'. 

In another match, Baker grounds a man with an Ejection Seat, before locking in the Simply Great Stretch on him. As the man begins to writhe in pain and draw close to tapping out, Graham breaks the hold and lifts the man up for a Tiger Bomb. He slams the man down on the mat and rolls into a pin, pinning the man at the three count. The camera looks at him, and he again mouths the letters MDE, before making a finger-gun sign and blowing it.


More and more videos funnel in like this, most likely coming to MDE's attention across social media, leading up to The New Batch... 

[Jim Houston]

The camera cuts on a conversation that is already ongoing in MDE's office between him and his young female assistant.

MDE (angrily): Nothing? What do you mean they have nothing?

YFA (a little scared): I just spoke to Mr. Smallman. He said they've got things for you in future but they didn't have someone to put you against this time. He said he'd be in touch.

MDE: No one to put me against? I've run through everyone there. They're bringing new guys across from Australia and New Zealand as we speak as there's no one to put me against? Who's facing Jonah Rock?

YFA (checking her notes): Zack Sabre Junior.

MDE: Zack- Zack Sa- He gets a match ahead of me? Last time I checked, I came out on top against him. It should be me in that ring. Get back on this phone and-

YFA: I've tried everything. Maybe if you were a bit more...

She tails off and immediately looks at the ground.

MDE: A bit more what? A BIT MORE WHAT?

MDE's assistant stands nervously as he stares at her expectantly.

YFA: Nothing... I...

MDE: You clearly had something to say. Say it.

YFA: It's just that... maybe you could try to build relationships a little more... We're doing Twitter now and I'm trying to engage with promoters but they still say you're...

MDE: Whay? What do they say?

YFA: They say you're hard to work with. Maybe you could be a bit more accommodating of what they need from you rather than just doing a match and leaving. Offer to train their young guys or give some advice to their locker room. Give a little back and you'll get triple the bookings you get now.

MDE stares daggers at her as she looks away.

MDE: What did Baker do last night?

YFA (pausing for a moment): He did your powerbomb and then called you out again.

MDE: He likes to keep making statements. Let's see what he makes of this. Are they ready?

YFA: They are but I really don't think-

MDE: Good. Now get out of the way.

MDE pushes past his assistant and out of the door, where a wrestling ring is set up with three younger wrestlers stretching. MDE walks into the ring the points at one.

MDE: You.

The wrestler gets into the ring and the two lock up. Immediately, MDE takes him down into a front facelock. He stares at the camera. He transitions from a facelock into a headlock, and then into a Fujiwara armbar. The wrestler taps quickly before MDE lets him up. He beckons the next guy into the ring, taking him down with a double leg before they even lock up and locking him into a knee bar. The second wrestler taps just as quickly as the first. MDE calls the third in but he's reluctant. Eventually, he steps into the ring and MDE lunges at him, wrenching the arm and kicking hard at the triceps. MDE lifts him onto his shoulders and brings him down for a shoulder breaker, keeping hold of him and lifting him again, hitting two more shoulder breakers before finally locking in the Simply Great Stretch. The wrestler yells that he gives up, but MDE just wrenches the hold harder, screaming with anger as he does so. The two other wrestlers try to pull him away but they can't, and the camera suddenly falls as we see the cameraman try to get into the ring as well.

[Deleted]

The Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s free. It’s freeing. It’s disgusting. Jeremiah Johnson walks through the large cats exhibit. He stops in front of a lynx that is constantly pacing back and forth.

Johnson shuffles his bright blue Nike running shoes, “See this,” Johnson points his oversized grey Batman hoodie sleeve at the lynx, “this is where your mind goes when you don’t practice meditation. It gets all mushy,” Johnson stomps a black jean clad leg, “I hate the zoo. Especially ones like this. These animals deserve better.” Johnson shakes his head, “But they can’t leave. Once released back to the wild, they’ll die. So they stay here. Their minds become mush. Their bodies become jokes of what they once were. Their instincts dull. They’re the physical manifestation of my feelings about this upcoming match.”

Johnson walks out of the large cats exhibit, “I’ve beat the shit out of almost everyone in that match. Did I win? Sometimes. Did I prove myself? You be the judge. My message is clear. Train Hard. Eat Right. Meditate. You will overcome anything with these three aspects.

Animals in cages. I’ve been in a cage. My mind has been too focused on MMA, rather than wrestling. I’ve trained to transition myself. Now my training is almost complete. I’m reminded of a quote, I forget by who, but the quote was, ‘Everything is temporary,’ and that’s true. The current champ will lose the belt eventually. Wins and Loss records will change; the world will grow and gold will be around my waist before the next Lunar New Year. Everything is temporary. Champions. Streaks. Life. The Universe.”

The Lincoln Park Zoo changes into a lakeside boardwalk, revealing Johnson to have been walking in front of a green screen the whole time, “Cloth McCloud, the thron in my side as big as a basterd sword. Leave. Just leave. You see the water in there? Jump in. You’re not qualified to be in my corner. And it is MY corner. You’re nothing more than a banana peel winning bitch. I slip on a banana peel, temporarily distracted. You win. Your victory is temporary. Your life is temporary. Your career is temporary.

And as for the champ. Stay with me in the ring. I want a champion in my corner. I want you to fight. I want you to bleed. I want you to realize that your gold reign is temporary. That soon, very soon, you will lose your title. You will lose your championship. You will lose. You will lose.

Remember this, Freedom People, you can either be with me or against me. I’m going to be me. And right now, I’m fucking pissed.”

Johnson walks off screen with a huff.

[The_Aviator_GB]

Merely a few hours before MDE and Baker's match, Baker records one final promo. He's sitting in a hotel room, looking into the camera as it films him. He glances at his hands, before looking up.

Today's the day, MDE. I saw your video-that little 'message' you put out and what you did to those poor souls. I'm imagining that you think the same will happen to me-that you'll get your hands on me, break my arms, tear my muscles...it won't happen. You see, I knew you'd respond in such a way when I put my message out-when I stole your moves, mocked the finishers you held so dear, and didn't even bother to finish a match with them. Did it infuriate you? Did it drive you to anger?

I hope it did. In fact, I know it did. To know I can do what you do so easily...and possibly, even do it better. Tonight, we open the show, we stand across from one another and we exchange blows, and one of us comes out on top. It'll be me, I swear that. And when I beat you, you'll have nothing left to turn to. Angered and miserable about your defeat...well, I wouldn't be surprised if you quit right there. You'll have nowhere left to go...not like you can head back to any other promotion you've ever fought for or worked under. Even if you win, I wonder if it'll be enough. 

I'll see you soon, MDE. Regardless, maybe i'll catch you at Progress sometime down the line...but probably not. 'Til then. 

[Deleted]

We fade in to a room backstage in the Odeum Expo Centre. The door opens and in walks FPW World Champion Adam Thompson, carrying a briefcase but without his belt. He sets the briefcase down on a table and starts to undo his tie, looking back over his shoulder to glance at the camera.


AT: So, it’s the big night. The premier of Freedom Pro Wrestling Season 2, the night that Clutch McCloud, Jeremiah Johnson and I take on The Invaders and that rat bastard MAJ in a 6 man tag match for the record books. More importantly to me, it’s the first night since Enter Sandman that I walk into a wrestling ring without my Championship in hand.


He places his tie on the back of a nearby chair and moves on to undoing his shirt before continuing.


AT: I would be lying through my teeth if I tried to say that it hasn’t thrown me off. Since MAJ ran off with my belt I’ve been having trouble keeping my focus, strategising, socialising. I never quite realised before just how much that thing and the title that came with it, Freedom Pro Wrestling World Champion, made me. It’s been the confirmation of who I am, what I fight for, what I bleed for, and I need it back.


Adam pulls his shirt off his back, and puts it down with his tie and opens up his briefcase.


AT: Honestly, we’re fighting from below. The Invaders are a well-oiled machine and MAJ is a crafty son of a bitch, while we three have been butting heads since day one. Jeremiah Johnson has turned a corner I don’t like, and as far as I can tell Clutch dropped off the face of the earth immediately after Goodbye, Cleveland. At the end of the day, I expect Marcus and his lackeys to stand tall.


He starts to pull his gear out of the briefcase. Trunks, boots and kickpads.


AT: Strangely enough, I don’t care. For the first time since I came here I’m not fighting because I want to win. I’m not even fighting to get back at Marcus. I’m simply fighting because I need to prove to myself what, for so long, I thought I already knew. I’m the Freedom Pro Wrestling World Champion, but that’s more than a title, more than a job description, it’s who I am and if I don’t go out there and stand against any odds in my way then I don’t deserve to have that. I don’t deserve to call myself “Pendragon”. So Marcus, whether you’re somewhere backstage here, out in the arena or strategising with your new minions, I have some news for you: If you want to beat me, then you’ll have to kill me.

[Deleted]

A light bulb hanging from a wall from a decrepit flickers.

The light illuminates the room for a second, showing dainty walls and a dusty chair and table right underneath it. A man casually sits on the chair, his head hung low.

The light flickers off again, followed by the sound of something really sharp scratching against the walls, periodically.

The light flickers on again and the man is still at his place, but behind him on the wall, are slash marks, as if made by an animal.

"Sanity."

"Such a beautiful word. It's like a coin. Gods play this game with your head. They flip the coin of sanity. Heads? You get your head, to use it as a gift of the gods. Tails? And you are insane. Yes, your fate, our fates, are mere games for those who choose to run this world. We are all victims of their divine games, mere ants, scurrying around in their playground."

The lights flicker a little before stabilising again.

"I pity those who lose in their game. Davey Jones. I pity you. The gods made you a madman, a roving lunatic with no senses to understand the ways of this world. Your dear mother, your father, calling you a mistake. Tell me Davey, did it hurt? Or are madman unable to feel the pain of the heart? Or did taking your anger out on little kids, boys weaker then you, did it help when your fists hit their broken noses?

Azazel climbs up on the table, almost excited, as he continues to talk, inching closer and closer towards the camera.

"Or or, when you skinned your mutt? Did it feel good, ripping off the skin of a runt who can't even speak our languages, a lesser life form? Did it make you feel powerful? Or do I ignore them as just the actions of a madman?"

"Tell me, Davey, if you had been given that power, would you have killed daddy, who beat you up for punching practice every other day? It would've felt good wouldn't it?"

Azazel gets off the table, a small smirk on his face.

"I know you're squirming in your chair back home hearing this right now, Davey. You want to do it all again. I knew it when we faced off in the Cibernetico match. You're not a madman, no. That is just a cover. A defense you made to protect yourself. You're a piece of shit. A man of you enjoys pain. I know how it feels, Davey. I want to help you. I want you to embrace your inner monster. I want you to enjoy pain."

Azazel looks at the other side of the room and the camera momentarily moves towards his line of sight, showing a grotesque sight of people tied in chains to the walls, looking underfed with marks of torture on their bodies. The number of people looks huge but Azazel shakes the camera back towards himself.

"This is my hell, Davey. You can either forsake yourself and join these men and women, these believers of faith, these so called white knights, those who chose the path I told them not to, or you can finally drop your facade of madness....

And wreak havoc upon the light in my name. Make your choice."

[Deleted]

Our Lord and Savior Matt "Messiah" Dwyer sits backstage with his right leg propped up on a chair. We can see Dwyer looks a little better injury-wise since Goodbye Cleveland, but it's clear he's just as anxious as he was on the night. Of course, he doesn't look riddled with worry, just more... "off" than we've ever seen him before. He turns to his left.

MD: You mind if I vent for a minute?

The camera pans to the unconscious local competitor sitting next to him. They have their head stuck in a guitar, but Dwyer assumes they're "all ears" anyway.

MD: I'm assuming it's no real secret I've been a little "on edge" recently. It's not about Cole – I knew his intentions right from the get-go. I'm just worried about Jerry.

I've been concerned for him for a while now. He and Cole were close, with me, closer, but Che? Inseperable. The Jester and The Junior. THE Friendmigos. When Cole disappeared, we knew where he went. He...

Matt pauses, as if reflecting on every word TJ said in post 50-50 promos. About Matt, Jerry, Che and Friendmigoship. The moment Cole showed his true colours.

MD: ... He made it *very* clear of just what'd happened to him. Che, after Rising Phoenix, he fell off the face of the earth. Left no trace to his whereabouts, gave us no clue of his intentions – we didn't even get a goodbye. The disappearance without any closure crushed Jerry. Hell, it hit me pretty bad too, but their bond was one of the closest I've ever seen... and then it was just gone. I've been trying to fill that gap for some time now – which meant being a little more Friendmigoey than I'm used to, even to the point of being near Jerry-esque – but it's obvious I'm no Che. He's irreplaceable. Until we find the truth, Jerry's going to be in this slump.

I'm not saying that Cole's words aren't bull, but on the off chance he's telling the truth about Che – about how he feels about Jerry and the team – then there's only one way to fix that: proving Che wrong. Proving Cole wrong. Proving everyone who's telling Jerry, telling me "Friendmigoship is stupid" wrong! We're more than (rad) handsigns, (sweet) merch and (awesome) gimmicks. We're quality singles guys, top-tier tag guys and the owners of the largest wills, spirits and hearts in pro wrestling! And let me tell you: nobody embodies the "never say die" attitude all Friendmigos share better than the Jester. I don't put faith in many things, but goddammit, I'd trust Jerry with my life – which is why I know Jerry's not going to be a negative factor in this match. Sure, Jerry's down for now, but if there's one thing I know about the man, he's never out. He... no, we're gonna get through this slump. And we're coming back better than ever.

As for Cole, he's not the first and won't be the last to try and drive a wrench inbetween our Friendmigoship – and that's okay. Because just like everyone who ever told us, told me even back when I was on the streets strumming at strangers for a salary, "you're never gonna make it", he's having that theory and his bloody stupid snake traitor rat face dislodged – courtesy of the man, the myth, the Messiah.

Dwyer turns back to his left.

MD: Has anybody told you you're a really good listener? Hell, I've forgotten why I smashed you over the head in the first place! We should do this again sometime.

Our Messiah, minding his leg, gets up, retrieves his guitar from over the enhancement talent's noggin, and walks off camera.

[veggieleezy]

*Camera comes up on Jerry Bishop in the locker room, finishing off the milkshake that was left for him.*

JB: Ahhh, I really needed that. *places the glass down by his side, turns to camera* Hey, you didn’t happen to see who left that for me, did you?

*camera “shakes its head” no*

JB: Hmmm... You don’t think it was Miss Banks, do you?

*camera “shrugs”*

JB: Yeah, you’re probably right. ...say, I just realized something. I’ve never been a referee before! I should probably get some training in, shouldn’t I?

*camera gives a “Well maybe” kinda motion*

JB: You’re absolutely right. This is one of the most important matches not only of my career, but in the history of Friendmigoship! And by golly, I will live up to the responsibilities laid before me! Quickly, Camera, to the training montage!

*Spinning domino mask graphic and sound effects similar to the 60s Batman series. What follows is Bishop’s training montage to become a succesful guest referee.*

*Bishop sits in a darkened screening room, watching footage of various World Series games, taking notes on each umpire’s calls
*Bishop stands at the sidelines of the Super Bowl, watching the referees make their calls and jotting down notes.
*Bishop sits at the judges desk for the mixed figure skating medal rounds at the Olympics, nodding profusely while the other judges remain stoic.
*Bishop leans in very closely to the chess board at the global Grand Masters’ tournament, marking each and every move.
*Jerry throws a penalty flag enthusiastically, inadvertently throwing off the entire Super Bowl.
*Jerry stands behind the home plate umpire, emphasizing their calls during Game Seven.
*Jerry is thrown out of Game Seven after running to the mound to ask the pitcher to sign the ball.
*Jerry is escorted from the Grand Masters tournament after violently sneezing and shifting the pieces on the board.

[veggieleezy]

Bishop's training montage Part II!

*Jerry sits at the judges desk of the X Games, thoroughly confused while the crowd around him goes wild.
*Bishop stands at the finish line of a high school track meet with a stopwatch.
*The scores for a figure skating pair's run appear on the screen; USA- 8, Germany- 9, Russia- 10+ political immunity, Bishop- "Good job!", China 8, Italy, 7
*Bishop sits at ringside for a local wrestling promotion's big event.
*We see Jerry wearing the black-and-whites for a highly promoted boxing match.
*Bishop leans over to another X Games judge and asks what's going on.
*Jerry cheers on each competitor at the track meet before realizing he hasn't marked each time on his stopwatch.
*Bishop somehow winds up eating a spinebuster from the local talent.
*Jerry encourages the boxers to resolve the match with a thumb-wrestling match. Which is nigh-impossible in boxing gloves.
*Bishop raises a sign with a crudely drawn thumbs-up while other X Games judges raise numbers.
*Jerry apologizes to the competitors' parents and says that all of the competitors did their best, so there's nothing for anyone to be ashamed of.
*Bishop kicks out at two and hits the local talent with the Last Laugh before counting the pin for their opponent.
*Jerry wakes up the next morning nursing aches and pains all over his body before checking his phone, which has several texts from Matt Dwyer and TJ Cole, effectively saying "Please don't get yourself killed or arrested before the big match."

[Deleted]

Jerry "The Jester" Bishop, a professional wrestler currently employed by Freedom Pro Wrestling has effectively ruined numerous sporting events over the course of a single training montage.

The "Friendmigo" is world-renowned for his great sense of humor, which shows clearest in his numerous montages. However, jokes can always be taken too far, as just within two parts of promo Bishop managed to throw off the Super Bowl, ruin a local high school track meet, disrupt Game Seven of the MLB World Series, the Global Grandmasters' Tournament and the heavily promoted Fabio "Rope-a-dope" Innocenti vs Eric "No Decision" Monaghan bout for the Iron Gloves Openweight championship. As well as incorrectly judge both the X Games and Olympic Mixed Figure Skating.

Many thought that this was Professional Wrestling's attack on peri-determined sports, which has since been disproved after Bishop proceeded to screw up the main event of last night's World Wide Rasslin' PPV.

From everyone at Freedom Pro Press, we can only hope this much damage doesn't come to FPW when Jerry sports the black-and-whites during the first show of what will be their second season. We wish both Matt "Messiah" Dwyer and TJ Cole, the men who will be standing opposite in a ring that has the Jester in the middle, the best of luck.

---

Looking back at the headline, TJ Cole lets out a sigh of disapproval. He holds the paper in one hand and knocks (regularly, rather than using the "secret Friendmigo knock") on a door labelled "Jerry Bishop" with the other. It's safe to assume that this is Jerry's dressing room.

Cole doesn't wait for a response, and walks through the doorway into the room beyond.

TJ: Jerry, we gotta tal-

It appears Cole started the conversation too early – there's no Jester in sight.

TJ: Jerry?

There's another door on the other side of the room. Cole swings it open and peers inside.

Nobody's there. The sound of the first door locking causes Cole to freeze, and then he turns around. Instead of finding the man he was looking for, he finds the man he hoped he wouldn't come across. Cole smirks.

TJ: Matt.

He says simply. Dwyer looks unamused. He doesn't return the greeting.

TJ: You seen this?

He holds up the Freedom Pro Press as he speaks.

MD: Yeah, I have. What of it?

TJ scoffs at the question.

TJ: What of it? Jerry's out there making himself look like an idiot, and that's your response?

MD: All he tried to do was get some experience, learn a little so he'd be able to call our match the best he can. He meant well – I don't have a problem with it. Again, what of it? What's it to you?

TJ: Well I'm *very* happy you don't have any issues with Jerry going out there, looking like a goof and soiling his reputation just because he had "good intentions." Newsflash: you can't build a career on nothing but goodwill, Dwyer!

This time, it's Matt who smirks.

MD: Spoken like a true jackass...

TJ: What?

MD: Of course you'd know something about soiling reputation, you wannabe Jack Sevren, you. With us, you had allies, a family... Friendmigos. What made you idolise him so much you'd turn away from us just to try and follow in his footsteps?

TJ: I don't "idolise" him.

MD: That doesn't answer my question. Why'd you leave, Cole?

TJ gives the smuggest smile he can.

TJ: Because I found the way, and let me tell you, it was far from Friendmigoship. Friendmigoship is nothing more than a glass ceiling, something that keeps all of us, you included, from reaching our true potential. I learnt that, Che learnt that, and in time, Jerry will learn that. I'll teach him the truth.

Matt, clearly fed up, grabs TJ by his collar and pushes him against the wall.

MD: The truth? Please – enlighten me. What do you mean "teach him the truth?"

TJ: I thought you had my intentions all figured out.

MD: Believe me, I do. I just want to make sure *you* know exactly what you're trying to do here. See, I bet you thought you could just waltz in here with your discount Sevren bullshit, hit all Jerry's weak spots and try to turn him against me. Let me tell you, it's not gonna work like that. Jerry embodies all the traits of Friendmigoship. He is literally the heart and soul of the Friendmigos. See, Jack might've pulled it off with someone weaker like you, but Jerry? Nowhere near as likely. You're half the jackass he was, and Jerry's twice the man you are.

Dwyer lets go of Cole and steps back a bit.

MD: I'll give you some credit, you've hit him pretty hard – but you and I both know it's only temporary. He's pretty happy you're back. Despite everything you said in the past, he still believes in you. He wants to give you another chance. So you know what? That's what I'm gonna do.

Dwyer, without taking his eyes off Cole, unlocks the door, and swings it open. He pulls a mask out of his pocket. It's a replica of the one TJ used to wear in 50-50.

MD: It looks to me like you've got three options here: you can take back this mask, take back your Friendmigoship, come back to us and we'll call the match off and act like this entire thing never happened. You can be the coward I think you are and run away, giving you just a little more extra time before I kick your head in at New Batch. Or, if neither of those options appeal to you, then we don't have to wait until Saturday. Don't choose the stupid ones, Cole.

TJ thinks. He looks at the mask, the door, and at Matt before simply sighing.

TJ: To be fair? I do miss the atmosphere us Friendmigos had. Sure, we weren't winners all the time, but we felt like it – the love of the people, the satisfaction of being heroes, the... Friendmigoship we shared. I don't know, I just felt like you'd never take me back if I asked, so I had to convince you all to join me on this dark path... but obviously that's not gonna work...

MD: Of course not.

TJ: So... you're really gonna take me back?

MD: Absolutely.

Cole reaches for the mask. He gets a hold of it.

TJ gets a hold of Matt's arm, and kicks him in the injured leg! Matt drops to a knee! Cole bashes his forearms into Matt's head! One forearm, two, three, four, fi- Dwyer caught it! He pushes Cole away, making the seperation! Sweet Chin Music! Cole is dazed, it seems Matt got him with the right leg / bad leg. Dwyer, limping a little, goes into the second room. He comes out with an electric guitar, but Cole's nowhere to be found. It would appear that he's bolted. Dwyer walks out into the hallway, trying to find where he went, but TJ is completely out of sight.

Dasha Banks approaches Matt.

DB: Hey Matt! If you don't mind, I had a few questions for you before you face TJ Cole at our Season 2 Prem-

Matt has absolutely no idea she's there – he's just simply staring off into the distance.

DB: ... Matt?

This catches Dwyer's attention, bringing him back to his surroundings.

MD: Oh, Dasha! Sorry, I spaced out for a second. Don't worry, I'm all good to go now.

DB: Matt, is everything okay Friendmigos-wise?

Dwyer thinks for a little. He seems indecisive on how to answer this.

MD: Everything's... just a-okay. It's nothing more than a hiccup. Jerry's in a tough spot at the moment, but we're gonna get through it, like always. So yeah... a-okay.

Dasha looks slightly skeptical, but smiles anyway.

DB: Great! Well Matt, thank you for your time, and I wish you luck against TJ Cole on Saturday!

MD: No problem, Dash. Cheers.

Dasha walks off, Dwyer remains. He looks at the ring on his finger. His Friendmigo Ring. He recites the oath.

MD: "In darkest match, in brightest ring,
"While in between the ropes we zing,
"We may not paint ourselves like Sting,
"But we believe that fun is king..."

He sighs.

MD: Don't worry Jerry – everything's gonna be a-okay.

[marileeg17]

Marcus is admiring his FPW World Championship and listening to music in the hallway when he spots Dasha Banks walking by.


MAJ: Travis, over here.


Dasha keeps walking, so Marcus gets up and follows her. He taps her on the shoulder causing Dasha to turn around with a sigh.


MAJ: I know you heard me.


DB: My name is not Travis…


MAJ: Right, Sasha.


Dasha rolls her eyes.


DB: If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to see Jerry.


Marcus laughs.


MAJ: A woman like you deserves more than a little boy. How about a man, how about a MAJician?


Dasha seems horribly offended.


DB: Try that again and I tell Jim that you are sexually harassing me…What do you want Marcus?


MAJ: You. To be more specific, you and that mic and some guy and a camera. I have an announcement that I really think the world needs to hear and you have the platform I need to give it. So, what do you say? Meet me back here in, an hour?


Dasha thinks about it for a few seconds.


DB: Fine, but I’m bringing Jackson and if you try anything, I’m going to have him kick your ass.


Dasha leaves as Marcus makes a ‘whatever’ face and puts his headphones back on.


MAJ: Dashop? Bisha? Weak. Marsha is clearly better.

[marileeg17]

One hour later
...

Dasha and Jackson arrive to see the hallway from before completely transformed. There is a red carpet on the floor and ample lighting. There are also photos of Marcus all over the walls, which causes Jackson to sigh.

DB: You did this in one hour?

MAJ: Let’s just say, I know a guy. So, you ready for the interview of your life? Because what I have to say, it’s going to blow all of your feeble minds away.

Dasha and Jackson look back and forth at each other.

Jackson: Still want me to kick his ass?

DB: Let’s hear what he has to say. Alright Marcus, we’re rolling in—

Before Dasha can ask a question, Marcus takes the mic himself.

MAJ: Is this thing on? Great…Hello, Freedom…Wait, even better…Hello members of the MWC aka Marcus’ Wrestling Community. That’s right. I know all you closeted dopes out there merely want to be part of something and what better to be part of than the MWC, the home of your FPW Champion, Marcus Allen Jones. It’s okay to be starstruck, I know I am every single day I look in the mirror.

Dasha rolls her eyes but the interview continues.

MAJ: Anyway, let me get to the point. FPW is in desperate need of a rebrand. Over the past two weeks I’ve been forced to sit by and watch video clips of some stupid saga between this company’s least valuable wrestlers. The Friendmigos are fine, the Friendmigos aren’t fine, Cody tells them the ‘Friendmigos are MINE,’ Kenny says he’s a WWE reject. But the real question people fail to be asking is “Who the hell cares?” Who cares if the Friendweebos break up? Who cares if Bishop and Dwyer go heavyweight? Who cares…And then, we have Jeremiah Bones Johnson, who brings you people to a zoo to tell you he’s going to take me down. And he’s broken up with his lover, Clutch McCloud. How sad…No one cares about any of that or any of those people. Oh and I forgot, Graham Baker and MDE. Going around the world using each other’s moves, complaining because Progress is ghosting him, and two guys who I don’t know if they want to fight each other or kiss each other. Newsflash, we don’t care. What you all do care about my devoted MWC, is me and this title.

Marcus holds the title up to the camera so everything can be seen clearly. Dasha looks confused but Marcus just smiles at her.

MAJ: As you can see, I’ve done a little rebranding myself. I’ve removed those horrid dragon plates and have replaced them with something more fitting. Me, and to make things even better, me wearing the championship. They say that’s meta but I say it’s Marcus. And as you can all tell, it’s the greatest thing to happen to a wrestling belt since James Ellsworth created a new Intergender Championship. Hell, James should call up here because there’s tons of people on this roster who could get in that conversation. But this isn’t about them, it’s about me, your Freedom Pro Wrestling Champion.

DB: Alright, that’s enough.

Marcus is surprised as Dasha instructs Jackson to pack up the equipment.

MAJ: Uh, I wasn’t done showing off my belt.

DB: See, that’s the thing, Marcus. It’s not your belt and your little exposition is over. If Adam was here today, but I’m sure you know he isn’t and that’s why you feel comfortable parading around here with stolen property, he would have put an end to this before I did. Jim, he’s not going to air this.

MAJ: If he won’t, I know people who will. And besides, if Adam wants his so-called stolen property back, he can come get it at the season two premiere.

Dasha rolls her eyes in frustration and leaves with Jackson.

MAJ: Marsha, Marsha, Marsha