Judgement Day Promo Thread

[Jim Houston]

The following video appears on freedomprowrestling.com.

Jim Houston sits in his office, dressed in a suit with a smile on his face.

"Hello, and welcome to freedomprowrestling.com. My name as ever is Jim Houston and I am the Freedom Pro Wrestlg General Manager. First of all, I'd like to offer my sincere congratulations to everyone who competed at Dead Man's Chest. However, I'd like to offer special congratulations to Bobby O, the first ever winner of the Dead Man's Chest, to Marcus Allen Jones, the man who walks into our biggest ever show as the FPW Champion, and to Graham Baker, the Free-1 winner and other half of the biggest main event this company has ever produced. Judgement Day will take place in our home town of Chicago on Sunday 2nd December, and I for one cannot wait.

"In our main event, FPW Champion Marcus Allen Jones will defend his championship against the rightful number one contender Graham Baker. This is a match months in the making. Graham Baker came here for the Young Lions' Cup, a tournament I. Which he lost his first match. Marcus Allen Jones won that tournament. While Baker struggled to fend off the FPW roster, Marcus was making his way to the FPW Championship. Baker managed to get his breakthrough win, fighting with honour and spirit, while Marcus won the title using methods which were mired in controversy. Baker took the Hardcore Title to new heights, while Marcus managed to demonstrate that he may well be the best pure athlete in Freedom Pro Wrestling. These two men could not be anymore different, and that makes this match up perfect.

"In addition, I have a very exciting announcement. For a while now I've wanted to create the FPW Women's Championship and I can now officially declare that at Judgement Day we will have a triple threat match between Berry Bishop, Artemis Evans and Elizabeth Karlson for that very championship. This is a match where these three competitors certainly don't like one another and I think it could well steal the show. We also know that the Tag Team Championships will be defended by Bobby O and Jack Sevren against The Guardians of Strong Style. This clash of styles will be a fascinating match up and will give our champions possibly their greatest challenge yet.

"As for our Hardcore Champion Tommy Storm, it was mentioned in passing between The Renegades that John Grimm would make a worthy challenger. I agree and, if Mr. Grimm wishes to make his challenge official, I will allow him the opportunity. However, it won't be a one-on-one match. I was impressed with both Jace Mason and Henry Harrison in the Dead Man's Chest Match. Therefore, I wish for each of them to also challenge for the Hardcore Title, making the match a fatal-four-way match. While I'm sure that match will be brutal, I feel there is an equally brutal match that was set at Dead Man's Chest. The Invaders decided to get involved with Russ Bolt and Danica Jane in the FPW Championship match, and Bolt and Clutch McCloud have set out the challenge to Haych and Dario. I want to make that match official too.

"As for our final two matches, both are potentially very interesting. James Saturn could easily have been the man to unhook the Dead Man's Chest, and in many ways he was the most impressive entrant in that match. I feel that James has earned the chance to be truly tested, so I will give him that opportunity. At Judgement Day, he will go one-on-one with Azazel. And finally, we have a match which has perhaps been brewing since the last day of Block competition in the Free-1. On that day, Jerry Bishop truly proved himself as a wrestler with a victory over MDE, a man who had been absent from FPW since that defeat until the Dead Man's Chest Match. I had invited him to enter the match, but he declined. Little did I know that he would cost Jerry what would have been his greatest achievement here in FPW. So at Judgement Day, MDE will make his return against Jerry Bishop."

Houston sits back and smiles.

"At Judgement Day, I also plan to reveal the schedule for next year as well as plans for the second ever FPW Awards show. Believe me when I say that this show will be absolutely unmissable."

[Jim Houston]

OOC:

Here is the card for Judgement Day. Please can I have volunteers for match writing? There are so many matches I want to write myself for this one!

FPW Hardcore Championship: Tommy Storm v John Grimm v Jace Mason v Henry Harrison (Baker/Renegades to write)
Clutch McCloud and Russ Bolt v The Invaders (Match Writer Needed)
FPW Women's Championship: Artemis Evans v Elizabeth Karlson v Berry Bishop (Houston to write)
James Saturn v Azazel (Match Writer Needed)
FPW Tag Team Championships: Bobby O and Jack Sevren v The Guardians of Strong Style (Mason/Karlson to write)
MDE v Jerry Bishop (Houston to write)
FPW Championship: Marcus Allen Jones v Graham Baker (Houston to write)

Thanks in advance.

[Jim Houston]

MDE stands in front of Jim Houston's office, still wearing the same hooded top that he wore to stop Jerry Bishop from winning the Dead Man's Chest Match.

"Everyone wanted to know when I would come back. When I would make my triumphant return to Freedom Pro Wrestling. In all honesty, I didn't know myself. When I walked out at the end of the Free-1, I didn't know if I'd ever return. I had no interest in following FPW. I didn't know what a Dead Man's Chest Match even was until I got a message from Jim Houston three weeks ago asking me to be involved in the match. I declined, but it piqued my curiosity. I looked at the names of the participants and it seemed to be a second-rate match and a little ego-trip for our esteemed general manager. A mystery prize. This isn't a carnival, although I realise that Jim Houston is just another promoter who wants to make the show all about him. The look on his face as he stood out there revelling in the attention of fans who were oh-so-desperate to find out what was in Mr. Houston's Magic Box showed him for what he truly is,

"I didn't want to play that game. But there was something I realised that I did want. You see, when I lost to Jerry Bishop at the end of the Free-1, I had a lot of anger to work through. Anger at myself. Anger at Jim Houston. Anger at fans. The anger that I felt towards myself I used. I used it to make me better, more focussed, more ruthless. I used it to make myself into the wrestling machine that I never quite managed to be. But I never quite felt the anger that I feel now. Now my anger is solely targeted at one man. That man is Jerry Bishop. But this anger isn't what it seems. This anger isn't a petty type of anger that exists simply because Jerry Bishop beat me. Oh no. It's something very different to that. It's the type of anger that will prove to be Jerry Bishop's worst nightmare.

"The anger I feel towards Jerry has nothing to do with myself. It has nothing to do with him beating me. No. In fact, Jerry beating me showed me something. It showed me that Jerry Bishop is the biggest fraud in the history of this great sport. Jerry Bishop epitomises everything I hate about what this sport has become and continues to become. Jerry Bishop might be the most talented wrestler I've ever stepped inside a ring with. He's fast, he's stronger than he seems, he can take a great deal of punishment and keep fighting through it, he can slip out of situations that even I can't escape, often by sheer force of will. In short, Jerry Bishop has everything that a wrestler needs to be considered a great. And what's more is that Jerry Bishop knows it. I didn't think he did. Until I stepped into the ring with him I thought he was a well of untapped potential that was never going to be tapped because he was little more than a clown playing at wrestling. But when I looked him in the eyes I realised that he knows exactly how good he is. That's how he beat me in the Free-1 and that's why he should be the one in the main event of Judgement Day. But he isn't.

"What makes me angry about Jerry Bishop is that he has all the talent in the world, he knows it, and yet he still refuses to use that talent to its full potential. Jerry Bishop clowns around with his friends and his sister, playing to the insufferable whims of the people who sit in their seats and don't know a thing about what's happening in front of them. And all the while he sits on a level of talent that I don't think I've seen in anyone else I've faced. Jerry Bishop represents everything I hate about modern professional wrestling. He plays the promoters' games, becomes a vehicle for selling merchandise and sits there having mediocre matches against mediocre opponents when he should be in the main event of every single show he's on because there's nobody better.

"And I will use this anger not just to beat you Jerry. Not just to prove that my approach to professional wrestling is better than your approach to professional wrestling. No. I will use this anger to take everything you care about and destroy it. I will destroy this version of Jerry Bishop once and for all. And when I'm finished, you'll either be the true wrestler you ought to be- no distractions, no bullshit, no games- or you'll be a broken husk of a man. Whichever it is, it's your choice. But I promise you this Jerry Bishop. By December 2nd, you will never be the same again."

MDE stares intensely down the lens of the camera before walking into Houston's office.

[The_Aviator_GB]

We enter into a room where Graham Baker wears his leather jacket, one of his old tanktops, and a pair of jeans. He sits with the Free-1 Briefcase in his hands, enshrouded in darkness. A single swinging light bulb above him provides the only light in the room, and Baker takes in the quiet atmosphere. He breathes in, and out. After a few more moments, Baker begins to speak.

My name is Graham Baker, although most of you know that by now. I've been called many things...Aviator, Underdog, Indie Darling, Flippy-Shit Madman...but one name i've never managed to claim...is world champion. In a month's time, I have a chance to change that, but to look toward the future, we must first...explore the past.

A light shines next to Baker, illuminating his old ring gear from his debut match against MDE and his Young Lions' Cup match against James Saturn. The gear is worn down and tattered at the knees from use-one can see that Baker clearly spent a lot of time with it on his independent tour. Baker looks over toward it, and chuckles.

My first two matches were two definitive losses to two of the greatest, unsung stars in this company. My first was a loss by Pinfall to MDE after a highly competitive match that saw the both of us get nearfall after nearfall, until, of course, he got the better of me. This loss shouldn't have bothered me so much, but alas, it did...as I was unable to put away James Saturn due to time wasted aping MDE's World's Greatest Stretch. These two matches highlighted a weak start for me, of course...Saturn wouldn't go on to go much further in the Young Lion's Cup, but Saturn had momentum, and MDE already had a name while I...had nothing. I was, for lack of a better word, a dying star.

Another light shines, revealing a second set of gear, this being the pair of jeans and shredded tank top that Baker wore to his match against MDE at Temple of Doom, the Bourbon City Street Fight. The gear is stained with blood and clearly in a state of disorray, and Baker grimaces as he remembers the brutal match that he wore it through. He looks back down at the briefcase in his hands.  

This set...represents my greatest failure in FPW to date. I had one chance to prove myself against MDE, one final shot to give myself an injection of life in this world that wanted to spit me out, but I was unable. I requested a deathmatch against MDE, and I got it, albeit with some...requests made by Jim Houston that I found to be quite a bit unfair. I would nearly have MDE once again, have him on the goddamn ropes and ready to fall...only for him to cuff my hands and roll me up for an easy win. I felt dejected, I felt directionless...but I wasn't dead, not yet. Not nearly.

The next set of gear is a set clearly inspired by the airplanes of World War II with an olive drab paint scheme, a nose-paint inspired decal on the right knee, and a set of specialized boots and knee-pads. A set of specialized gloves sit with the gear as well, hard-knuckled and ready to go. Baker cracks a smile as he looks back at this set of gear, and then looks back forward.

And then...everything changed. In this gear, with those gloves and those tights, I tore my competition apart. I became one of two men to tap MDE out, period, and I went on a tear. I'd tap out the submission specialist, Jeremiah Johnson, to win myself and James Saturn a hardcore tag team match less than a month after my victory over MDE, and then, a month after that, i'd best Nick Jameson in a brutal 2/3 falls deathmatch to win myself my first major title, and the first title i'd win in Freedom Pro Wrestling, the FPW Hardcore Championship. I was proud, and I thought i'd reached the top, or as far as I'd get...until Jim Houston announced the Free-1 Tournament.

Then, things changed. Again.

We see another set of gear now, this being a more refined version of the last set of tights with the airplane-inspired designs. Notably, Baker's entire right knee appears to have been reconstructed on the tights as nose art, while the other leg is more or less bare, and the design carries over to the kneepad as well. This set of gear also comes accompanied by a model of the FPW Hardcore Title. 

In the Free-1 Tournament, I became the only man to go undefeated. I took draws, sure, against Azazel and Adam Thompson, but suffered no losses by pinfall, nor submission. I came out on top of the B-Block, finding myself paired up against Jerry Bishop in what I would consider to be the best match of my career to this point. Bishop fought valiantly, and he showed me talent I had no idea existed in that comedic frame, but in the end, I was able to put him down for the count with a well-timed Ground Zero. My next match, one against Tommy Storm, marked my first loss since I defeated MDE and cost me the Hardcore Championship, but I was able to pick up the ashes of that battle and take on Jack Sevren in a valiant effort to defend my Free-1 Briefcase and secure my spot in the main event of Judgment Day. 

Which, of course, brings us to right now. 

Baker's last set of gear is revealed, specially made for his first world title match. It is black and gold, in the design of his previous tights, with the nose-paint shark tooth design being fashioned from gold. He has special boots, kneepads, and gloves as well, and they seem to be ready to go. 

I always promise a good fight. I always promise a great challenge and a good show, but now...now i'm fighting for more than just entertainment. Freedom Pro Wrestling is expanding at a rate faster than I thought possible-than anyone did, and by this time next year, we will be global. We will be immense. We will be unstoppable. We need a man at the head of this company who can do what is necessary, who can represent our brand and our belt to the best of their ability wherever they go. A man who doesn't stoop to low levels to get what he wants, who doesn't rely on henchmen to handle his victories for him. We need an ace...and that ace is not Marcus Allen Jones. 

Jim Houston called Marcus the 'best pure athlete in Freedom Pro Wrestling', and while I can't argue the validity of that statement I can argue with facts that the man is not unbeatable. I can argue with validity that he is not unstoppable. He might be good, but he's not untouchable. He...is not me. He...has never been an underdog, never had to prove himself, never had to show that he was made of nothing more than the talent he had and not the name he carried. Marcus got in at a young age, sure, younger than I was, but Marcus never paid his dues.

Marcus bought and cheated his way to the top, and when he got there, he might've gotten a few wins, but for what? For who? Marcus isn't a workhorse-hell, the man barely shows up outside pay-per-views-and he sure as shit couldn't keep up with the responsibilities of a global champion. He's a fluke who's held a belt off of luck, who's been kept in by a safety net to prevent him from losing matches that would've lost him the strap, and he's tarnished the name of this company, its owner, and the belt he holds-and through that, every single one of us who's challenged for it.

At Judgment Day, there will be new beginnings and new endings. At Judgment Day, there will be finality, as i'm challenging Marcus to a best 2/3 falls match, with no disqualifications, no countouts, no escape. There will be a finish to this match. 

At Judgment Day, Freedom Pro rises to the top with a new ace at its head, and that ace...is Graham fucking Baker, nothing more, nothing less. 

I've shown you what I can do. Now, watch me do it.

[Jim Houston]

Berry Bishop is in a ring with a trainer holding up pads. She's kicking the pads and, judging by the sweat on the back of her training top, has been for some time.

Trainer: That's good. Now let's get to the mat.

Berry: The mat... ok. If I'm going to beat Karlson and Evans I know I need to get better at mat wrestling. What do we have today? How to escape from the Chronic Illness? Turning the Creeping Death into a Berry Buster?

Trainer: Let's not run before we can walk... just some basics. We'll start with me getting you in a headlock. You try to reverse it and try to block me from doing anything else.

Berry: You got it.

Berry bounces up a down a few times before the trainer locks her into a headlock. She immediately tries to escape by forcing the hands off her head, but she can't. She then tries to break the grip, but it's too strong. She manoeuvres the trainer over to the ropes and then shoves him away, but he maintains his grip and drops to one knee. Berry tries to wriggle free but he keeps his grip and then takes her over. He keeps the headlock in and pushes up from his hips to generate greater leverage. Berry keeps trying to break the hold, finally managing to get a head scissors and forcing the break.

Trainer: Hmmm. Not bad. You know a few ways to counter. But we need a few more. They're basic. A wrestler like Karlson will keep that hold in for days against those kind of counters, and that's just a simple headlock. Next time, try gripping my wrist as I lock the hold on, slip your head back and transition into a wristlock.

Berry: You got it!

He tries to lock in the headlock again, but Berry grips the wrist and gets the wristlock like he asked. He quickly breaks free however.

Trainer: Better. But we need to work on your holds too. She'll have the headlock back on before you know it with a grip like that.

Berry: Okay, but-

A voice is heard off camera.

"And she'd put a headlock on much better than you can with your technique."

The camera pans across and shows MDE leaning on the ringpost.

Trainer: How long have you been there?

MDE: Long enough.

MDE enters the ring and turns to Berry, who shies away.

MDE: Let me show you how it's done. You. Headlock.

The trainer gives MDE a look before applying a headlock, seemingly going in much stronger than he did on Berry. MDE quickly turns it into a wristlock and wrenches on it, causing the trainer to cry out with pain and tap his hand on his shoulder. MDE breaks the hold and the trainer backs down, holding his arm close to his body.

MDE: That's how it's done.

Berry looks at MDE with trepidation.

MDE: I can show you if you like.

Berry: Ummm... you're wrestling Jerry. I don't know...

MDE: Yeah. I am. But Jerry and I go way back. We're friends really. He's friends with everyone. He told you that, right?

Berry: Well yeah... he's like Barney the purple DDT-osaur. You though, you're kind of scary...

MDE takes a step towards Berry, who shrinks back again.

MDE: I've been watching you recently. Your kicks are good. Very good. In fact, they're probably second only to Azazel here in FPW. Karlson and Evans won't be able to withstand them. But they're both miles ahead of you technically, and kicks are no good when you're on the mat for the whole match. And trust me, you'll be on the mat for the whole match. They won't have any interest in standing and striking with you, and you can bet they'll both be looking to get you out the way to face each other. The way I see it, you need to learn a lot about technical wrestling to have a chance at that Women's Championship.

Berry (looking suddenly downtrodden): Oh. I knew I had a lot to learn, but...

MDE: But don't worry. I'm in town for a few more days. I can teach you. Even Karlson can't match me. I'll show you counters for everything she can do and I'll make sure you tighten up your own holds so she finds it harder to escape. I can't promise you'll be a technical master by Judgement Day, but you'll be good enough to use your real strength- those legs.

A moment's silence passes as Berry thinks. MDE simply looks at her with an unreadable expression.

Berry: Ok. It's a deal.

MDE smiles, with a slight sideways glance at the camera.

MDE: First thing's first...

The camera fades to black.

[veggieleezy]

*The camera crew catch up with Jerry Bishop just as he passes through the curtain after Dead Man’s Chest.*

DB: Jerry, I’m sorry you weren’t successful in the main event tonight.

JB: *nursing his ribs* Me too, Dasha, but- agh- I’m glad to know Bobby succeeded. The guy’s a great talent, and- gah- he deserves it.

DB: How do you feel about all of the interference in the Dead Man’s Chest match?

JB: First, I want to make sure that Berry is okay.

DB: The trainers are checking on her, but it looks like she’ll be good to go for the end of the year event.

JB: And Liz?

DB: Karlson is also expected to make a full recovery. But I don’t think she’d like you calling her “Liz”.

JB: Good, as long as everyone is going to be fine. Because now I have some words for those interlopers. That’s my SAT word for the day, by the way. First- Artemis Evans, you call yourself the Glory Huntress, you take your name from Greek mythology, but you are about as close to being a goddess as I am. Although it is Greek mythology, so I suppose anything is possible... But you certainly don’t have the spirit of someone to look up to or worship.

*Bishop clutches his ribs as his volume and tone intensify*

JB: To borrow from Double-A, they send one of yours to the hospital, you send one of theirs to the morgue.

DB: That, uh, that’s pretty dark for you, Jerry.

JB: Oh, I don’t mean it like that. There’s a bar called “The Morgue” across town Matt told me about, Artemis would hate it there. The only music they play is Cher, Jim Croce, and Tony Orlando & Dawn.

*Bishop regains his focus, his tone steadying but his body language tightening.*

JB: Now for MDE. My old frenemy. We’ve danced back and forth for ages now. And I’ve always held you in high esteem. You’re one of the finest technical wrestlers in the world. And to be entirely frank, you’re one of the few men I can say I fear. The others are Dolph Lundgren, Sylvester Stallone, and Pat Sajak. At our match in the Free-1 Tournament, we pushed each other to our best. You had me on my toes the entire time, and I saw my opportunity at the very last moment, took it, and won. Fair. Clean. Properly. You took your time off, which I can understand, you needed to clear your head. But apparently in that time off, you got something else in there. Now, what you’ve just done, that was crossing the line. Granted, it was a no-disqualification match, so you were well within the rules of the match to do so. But. You interfered to cause harm to a supposed enemy, not to assist a friend. I’m not your enemy, MDE. I don’t want to be your enemy. I don’t want to fight you. My family and friends are hurt now, but that I can forgive. You cost me a golden opportunity, and even that I can forgive. But you interfered and you attacked *me*, someone who has never borne any ill will towards you. Sure, we have our differences, but that’s what makes us great in the ring. Our styles mesh and flow so well. Your laser-focus technique vs. my improvisational whiplash. Two sides of the same coin. Yin and yang. We balance, MDE, and yet you insist that what I do is meaningless? That it doesn’t have value? That making the crowd happy isn’t worth it?

*Bishop takes a deep breath and addresses the camera*

JB: You may not want to admit it, MDE, but the fans are the only reason either of us are here. We. Are here. For them. They pay to come see us in the ring, and we owe it to them to give them everything we’ve got, each and every night. Whether it’s strong style, high-flying, hoss matches, catch wrestling, throw wrestling, technical masterclasses, cage matches, ladder matches, shoot matches, rock-paper-scissors matches- it doesn’t matter. We go out there and give the people what they came to see. Incredible athletes giving their all. Yes, I know I wear my heart on my sleeve. But I owe everything I am, and everything I do to those people in the stands. I go out there, and I can almost certainly guaran-darn-tee you, that when I’m in the ring, no one’s frowning. Even if I lose, the Freedom Fighters leave knowing that I fought for them. I fought to give them something memorable, something enjoyable, something they can talk about, something to let them forget all of the troubles of the world for however long I’m out there.

*Bishop stares directly down the camera, stone-faced*

JB: ...now tell me to my face that isn’t worth something. Excuse me, Dasha, I have to see about my sister.

*Bishop walks out of frame. Dasha Banks looks after him with a concerned look on her face.*

Ted Crewmember: *from behind the camera* You’re worried about him, aren’t you?

DB: It’s just... it’s so troubling to see him so... not-Jerry, you know?

TC: I get ya. Come on, let’s catch up with the rest of the locker room.

*Camera fades out.*

[Jim Houston]

"It's ok," a voice begins to a black screen. "You're getting better."

The video then shows a gym, the same gym as the previous day, with two people inside a wrestling ring. MDE stands while Berry Bishop rests on one knee, breathing hard.

MDE: Mat work is hard. It takes a lot to keep it up for a long time, but Karlson can do it, Evans can do it and you need to be able to do it or you'll blow up before you get the chance to use your real offence.

Berry: I know... it just looks... I mean, I know it's complicated, you look like you're solving a Rubick's cube or something, but it didn't look like it took this much energy.

MDE: Well it does. And no cardio can prepare you for it. So we stay in this ring and work the same things time and time again until you can do it over and over and over. You're not physically ready for this match yet, no matter how fit you may be...

There's a momentary pause as MDE looks down at Berry, who looks away sheepishly.

Berry: I think maybe we should call it a day. Jerry-

MDE: Do you want to win this match or not?

Berry: I do want to win the match. But I want a lot of things. I want to get a proper Friendmigo mask. I want to know why Davey Jones likes Slim Jims so much. I want Marcus to stop asking me to do things that I don't quite understand but am pretty sure are disgusting. I want-

MDE: If you want to win the match, we go again. If you want to make lists of silly things rather than train, go and see Jerry. I'm sure he'll happily not train for one of the biggest matches of his life. If you want to be him, then be my guest and get out of here. If you want to be FPW Women's Champion, you know what to do.

Berry pauses for a moment.

Berry: Alright. I'll stay. But I've got to be gone by four. So... where did we start?

MDE smiles briefly.

MDE: Lie on your stomach. As soon as I touch you, all you need to do is to try to get up. Simple.

Berry lies down and MDE gives the camera a cursory glance before quickly taking her arm.

[Saturn]

The camera opens to darkness, as a recording of Mike Watson saying "James Saturn did it! He wins the quarter final match and advances to the semifinals!" Plays.

The video opens on footage of James standing tall after his first match in the FPW against Graham Baker as triumphant music plays. Slowly though, the music slows and the video changes as well, now playing footage of Saturn's subsequent loss to Zeke, then his loss to Jameson for the Hardcore. Audio plays of Mike Watson again, "James Saturn, nowhere to be seen at our New Orleans show, the Temple of Doom."

The footage of Saturn's losses continue showing the Free-1 tournament, highlighting him losing to MDE, Tommy Storm, and MDE, along with the ambushes from Edward Dessius and Artemis Evans as a recording of Saturn plays over, "I just need that extra push. I haven't done well enough here yet. But I need to do better, and I'm going to do better. And pretty soon I'll be at the top."

Footage then begins playing of Saturns wins, him defeating Bishop, Dessius, McCloud, and Evan's, and then showcasing his impressive performance in the Dead Man's Chest match, it cuts to the crowd cheering Saturn's name, and then finally Jim Houston announcing the card for Judgement Day, "I feel that James has earned the opportunity to be truly tested, so I will give him that opportunity. At Judgement Day he will go one on one with Azazel."

The footage then cuts to James Saturn leaning against the ropes in the ring in the middle of an empty venue, tossing a microphone back in forth with a big stupid grin on his face.

"This is what I've been waiting for, ever since I joined the FPW, ever since I started wrestling in general, this is what I've been waiting for. At Judgement Day, I will finally get the chance to prove myself, to elevate my status, against a man who I consider the best wrestler in the entirety of the FPW, sorry if you don't agree. I get to face Azazel."

James Saturn admires the ring and begins to lose himself in though for a second before snapping back to reality, looking more serious now.

"A common misconception about me, and I've heard it everywhere, is that I don't take this as seriously as I should, that if I stopped showing off and being so boisterous that maybe I'd win more matches, but see, that's not true. I take every match that I have deadly serious, cause that match could be the one to earn me the golden ticket, figuratively. This match is different though, if... Excuse me, when I win, I don't just think this could earn me the golden ticket, I know it will, so believe me when I say, I'm more serious than I've ever been before."

"Azazel, he likes to act scary, like he could destroy you with a snap of his fingers. But the truth is, that's an illusion, an illusion that helped him win most of his matches as well. What I don't think people understand about Azazel is that he's not just a great physical competitor, he's amazing at playing mind games. But it won't work on me, trust me it won't. Because the minute you figure out he's not some legendary fighter of insane power, that he's just a man, he's lost half his power over you already. I'm ready for Azazel, because I have to be, because I know I have to be."

James regains his cocky demeanor as he finishes up.

"Oh yeah, Azazel! Almost forgot, bud. This is a personal message to you. I am genuinely sorry that you lost your winning streak, but I don't want you to worry. After Judgement Day there will be a new winning streak, one that will hopefully continue much longer than yours. And it will be mine."

[Jim Houston]

"Wrench it! Wrench it!"

A groaning sound is heard before a repeated banging sound.

The video begins with Berry Bishop holding her trainer in an arm bar as he taps out.

Berry: Yes! I did it! I don't think I've ever made someone tap out before!

MDE stands over them as Berry stands up and bounces with excitement.

MDE: That was good. You got your grip early and you used your weight well. You could do with controlling the other arm though. Use your legs to trap it and they won't get to the ropes or be able to wriggle away.

Berry still bounces with excitement before suddenly realising that the trainer is crouched and testing his arm.

Berry: Oh! Are you ok? I'm sorry if you're hurt! I mean... I was trying to hurt you, but I'm...

Trainer: I'll be fine... I hate to say it, but he's right. You've got a lot better.

Berry shines with the praise and hugs the trainer.

Trainer: I don't know why you're hugging me. He was the one who helped you.

Berry breaks off the hug and turns to MDE, who stands with a neutral expression. She looks awkward for a moment before mumbling her thanks.

MDE: Let's leave it there today. I fly home tomorrow but I'll be here until three. Be here as early as you can.

Berry: I'll be here as soon as I wake up... well.. maybe not as soon as I wake up... I need to shower, and I need to get dressed and I need to make my bed and... but I probably won't sleep anyway because I'm so excited to keep learning. So... I'll get here by about eight?

Berry looks down with embarrassment.

MDE: I'll see you there.

MDE turns and leaves the ring while Berry looks at him walking away. She suddenly rushes out of the ring and follows him. When she catches up, she taps him on the shoulder. He turns and raises an eyebrow in mild annoyance.

Berry: Um... I just wondered what... what you were doing tonight? Last night in town and all...

MDE looks at Berry for a few moments.

MDE: I've got some of Jerry's recent matches to go over. My game plan needs work and it may as well start tonight. See you tomorrow.

MDE turns and walks away towards the camera, looking at it and giving a cold smile as the video fades to black.

[noname1525]

On an episode of Sixty minutes of Freedom.

“Hammer to Fall” began to play from the area speakers, and the crowd booed as Artemis Evans appeared on the stage. She ignored them as she walked down the ramp, although she did make it seem as though she was going to high-five a young fan in the front row before pulling her hand back at the last second. She walked over to the timekeeper's area and demanded a microphone. Someone handed her one and she climbed into the ring to address the Freedom Fighters.

“Over the last seventy-two hours, I've heard nothing but people complaining about my actions at Dead Man's Chest, saying 'why did Artemis have to get involved in the ladder match?’ Why? I'll tell you why. Because by some stroke of dumb luck, James Saturn was able to beat me, preventing me from claiming the glory of being the first person to hold the Dead Man's Chest. And if I couldn't hold it, then I sure as hell wasn't going to let my biggest rival hold it either. So when Elizabeth Karlson and Berry Bishop were perched on the top of that ladder, I saw an opportunity and I 'cashed in’. And now neither Elizabeth nor Berry will be able to do the same.”

The crowd breaks into renewed boos at that little dig, and Artemis smirks. “Oh you guys didn't like that huh?” she said, prompting even more boos.

“But it's time for me to the future, to Judgement Day, where even more glory awaits. Jim Houston has finally realized that there's been something missing from his company, something other promotions have offered, but one that FPW has never had. That something I'm referring to is the FPW women's championship of course. He's finally realized that this little rivalry between me and Karlson is worthy of something to fight for. But then he added Berry Bishop to the match. Berry Bishop, someone whose path has crossed with our little rivalry, but someone who has largely avoided getting involved. In short, someone who doesn't belong in this match. Berry, I don't care how much training MDE gives you, this is between me and Karlson, and you don't belong in the same ring as us while we sort out our differences. And those differences will be sorted out with me standing over her broken body, and yours if you're stupid enough to get in my way, putting my name where it belongs in the record books as the inaugural FPW women's champion!”

Artemis lowers the mic and appraised the crowd's mixture of boos and cheers, mostly boos. She sneered at them, but then her attention was diverted when ‘'Hardcore” began to play and the lights started to pulse. Elizabeth Karlson appeared in the stage, holding a microphone of her own.

“Artemis, I gave you as much time as I could handle, but I can't listen to you act as though you're better than everyone for another fucking minute. Someone has to put you back in your place, and now that your cronies are gone, there’s no one to stop me from tearing you limb from limb!”

The crowd roared with approval, but as their cheers subsided, Artemis could be heard laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Elizabeth barked.

“Well, I promised that Thea and Myra wouldn’t be here for Dead Man’s Chest, but I never promised they wouldn’t come back!” Artemis said, a wicked grin on her face.

As though they were waiting for this cue, the two Queendom members emerged from behind Elizabeth and attacked, forcing her to the ground and raining down strikes. Artemis watched and laughed from the ring as her allies laid into Karlson with vicious stomps and kicks. Then they paused for a moment, making sure she couldn’t fight back as Thea lifted her to her feet and held her arms behind her back, keeping her in place as Myra drover her foot into the side of Karlson’s head with a roundhouse kick. Thea let go and allowed Elizabeth to flop to the floor. The crowd unleashed a torrent of boos on the attackers, who spread their arms and laughed at them. Artemis called up the ramp “Your turn Thea.” Myra nodded and began to pull Elizabeth to her feet, setting her up for Thea to attack. But Elizabeth began to struggle, trying to work her arms free. Myra held on, so Karlson brought her foot down on her toes. Myra winced, but maintained her grip as Thea went for a superkick. But Elizabeth threw her upper body to the side, causing Thea’s foot to connect with Myra’s face! Myra let go and staggered back, giving Karlson time to step forward and drive her knee into Thea’s gut, doubling her over and allowing Elizabeth to wrap her arm around her head. She looked back to the ring at Artemis, whose expression had changed into one of anger and, if you looked closely enough, fear; before driving Thea’s head into the stage with a DDT! Elizabeth quickly stood up and focused her attention on Myra, who’d just made it back to her feet. Karlson blocked Myra’s punch, then connected with one of her own. Then she grabbed Myra around the back of the neck and across the lower back and shoved her off the ramp, sending her crashing into the floor! Elizabeth looked over and saw Myra struggle to rise, only to give up.

Then Elizabeth’s gaze went to Artemis. She began to slowly walk down the ramp towards the ring, gradually accelerating as she got closer. It appeared as though Artemis would stand her ground, but as Karlson made to get into the ring, Artemis rolled under the ropes across from her, leaped over the barricade and began to escape through the crowd, shoving fans who got in her way. As she neared a door, she turned around to see Elizabeth in the ring, staring at her. The show faded to black with a shot of Elizabeth in the ring, Artemis’ face displayed on the tron behind her.

[marileeg17]

"I am the champion my friends and I keep on fighting til the end. I am the champion, I am the champion. No time for lose---"

Marcus stops singing at the top of his lungs and smirks as he notices Dasha approaching him.

MAJ: No time for losers Dash. The champ has championship things to attend to. You wouldn't understand.

Dasha just rolls her eyes. By now, she's learned how to deal with Marcus for the sake of FPW interviews.

D: You know I wouldn't be here if I didn't absolutely have to be...I don't have a choice Marcus and contractually, you don't either, so let's just get this over with.

MAJ: Whoa, someone's in quite the mood. But fine, I know my adoring fans haven't heard from me in some time. Let me just clarify something though, you see this? This belt over my shoulder. This belt is why I make the rules around here. So you can just throw all of those "contractual obligations" out the window. This isn't the E. Houston may sign my paychecks but he sure as hell doesn't tell me what to do. Things run on Marcus time here, so ask your questions before that clock strikes zero.

D: Last week, Dario and Haych told us that you were planning some sort of "State of FPW" Address. Care to provide details on that and the timeline for when we should expect it?

Marcus laughs.

MAJ: Oh Dasha, sweet, naive Dasha. There is no State of FPW Address. There never was. I just wanted to make Jimmy sweat a little bit about what I might have to say. And judging from what I've heard, he wasn't the only one a little on edge about my address. And that's all I wanted. I knew I could push some buttons and I knew the buttons to push. I mean honestly, did you really think I give a damn about what people think my thoughts are? I tell them all the time. Their opinions don't matter, no one here's does.

Dasha frowns.

D: So there was really never an address?

MAJ: No, there was. I wrote it and recorded it. Dario has the tape right now. If you really want to see it, go ask him...

Marcus pauses and then flashes his signature grin which causes Dasha to shake her head.

D: There was no address...

MAJ: Now, you're getting it. Of course there was no address, but just the fact that so many of you actually expected one means I did my job well. Almost too well. Because now, now I think I actually want to do one. After I retain my title at Judgment Day, I think I might. It's been a MAJestic year after all and no one likes bragging about me more than me.

D: Speaking of Judgment Day, Graham Baker recently had some choice words to describe you. Care to respond?

MAJ: The guy gave a promo that showed nothing but his inability to do laundry. I mean seriously, blood on his gear? Does the man really not make enough money to go to a dry cleaner. Or better yet, he probably thinks seeing the blood is nostalgic, some sort of reminder that he almost beat MDE. He almost beat him. Since when has it become acceptable to laud over almosts? Almost isn't a victory. But it's good. It's good that Baker gets excited about almosts and blood-soaked gear and his greatest failures. Because that means he knows how to handle losing, which is exactly what he'll be doing when he and I get in the ring. Baker thinks I conned my way to the top. I call it intelligence. I call it cunning. I call it making good use of my resources. See, Baker doesn't know how to do any of that. That's why he looks down on my methods. But come Judgment Day, when he can't beat me with his methods, maybe he'll realize why I'm everything I say I am and more.

D: Baker challenged you to a 2 out of 3 falls match. Are you planning on accepting?

MAJ: No chance in hell. It's like what I said before, this belt on my shoulder means I make the rules and I make the matches. Just because Baker won a little briefcase doesn't grant him the right to pick the stipulation in our title match. Newsflash, he doesn't and Jim doesn't either. No, no I have the perfect stipulation in mind and it actually makes Graham's suggestion seem tame. i'm thinking big picture and as it would turn out, more hardcore than the so-called hardcore king himself.

D: I'm guessing you're not going to tell us the stipulation?

Marcus smiles and fake claps.

MAJ: Oh my gosh, she can learn! Yes Dasha, you are absolutely spot on. The hell if i'd ever tell you or these fans. No, no, Jim will know what I want soon enough. In the meantime you and him and Graham and the Freedom Fighters, will all just have to wait patiently...or not so patiently...I really don't give a shit. Now, if that's all the questions, it would seem that your Marcus time is just...about...up.

Dasha rolls her eyes.

D: Yeah, I, uh, pretty sure we got what we needed. Thank you as always Marcus for giving us so much of your...time.

MAJ: You are so very welcome. It's always your pleasure to see me. Now, if you'll excuse me...

Marcus puts his headphones back on and gives Dasha a sarcastic wave before walking away singing.

MAJ: "Sweet, sweet victory!"

[The_Aviator_GB]

We enter on The Renegades sitting in a locker room at Baker's preferred training gym of course, all decked out in their training gear. Baker finishes watching Marcus's promo, and shakes his head, looking to the others in the room. He sits for a moment, his hands clasped, and a great silence sits over the trio before Grimm speaks up. 

"He might be a prick, but the guy's got a way with words, I guess." Grimm surveys the others. "What do you think, Baker?"

"You're not wrong." Graham runs his hands through his sweat-soaked hair, his leg bandaged and iced from his match with Sevren, but its condition clearly hasn't impeded his training. Baker still looks to be in prime physical condition, much like he was throughout the Free-1, and his motivation doesn't appear to be damaged. A new, fresh tattoo can be seen on Baker's left bicep, the dates of his Free-1 victories listed as well as his victory over Jerry Bishop below a tattoo of the Renegades' skull and crossbones. "Marcus is good, too. I can deny all I want that he's the ace of FPW, and speak on the truths of his bullshit methods...but if his last few matches proved anything, it's that he's good at what he does. Houston wasn't kidding when he said he was the best pure athlete in the company...but he sure as hell ain't as driven as I am." Baker shrugs again. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried."

"That's why it's good to get started on training now, Graham." An unusually muted Karlson speaks up from her spot across from Grimm, her wild-child look and demeanor toned down significantly for this training session. "You've got me every other day this week, Starr's running a class with you tomorrow night, and you've still got that open invite by Sabre, but travel's gonna kill a day or two...plus, it's not good for the body. I'm sure we could get some smaller-name guys around bookings-Gresham, Williams, the list goes on, but I dunno what good that's gonna do you right now if they're just teaching you more of what you know. We know that MAJ isn't afraid to use his own submissions, either-he wrecked half the people he came across in the Free-1 with that goddamn sharpshooter and we both know your back and leg aren't in the shape they used to be, especially with these matches so quick after the other. Maybe we want to look to avoid that entirely, and maybe we want to look to, uh...train with someone a little closer."

At this, Baker pauses. He looks over to Karlson, who seems to be hesitant in saying what she's thinking. The pressure amongst the Renegades has been realized since the Judgment Day announcements, as all three members stand to gain three titles over the course of a single night. Baker, in particular, stands to finally make the mark he's been trying to make for years and break through into the main event of the wrestling world with his first major title, while Grimm and Karlson look to make their own names, albeit in the midcard, but names nonetheless. Karlson holds her tongue, and Baker cracks his neck.

"If you're talking about MDE, the answer's no. Not going back to that surly prick for anything, at least not now. I'll book Gresham, Williams, Starr for another class, and see who else I can find. Worst case...I'll make the trip to New York and catch up with Sabre for a night, might do that either way. Until then, we've got to get back to it. Anyone else comes through here and seems like they know what they're doing...well, i'll take a stab with them too. Need all the advice I can get." Baker stands, and goes to leave, but as he does so, both Grimm and Karlson share a glance and Grimm lets out a cough to clear his throat. Baker turns back.

"You know, regardless of what happens here, we're with you, right? Win or lose...at least one of us is walking out with the gold, and that's all we need. A foothold. We can, uh...go from there." Grimm looks to Baker, who stops for a moment, grabbing the doorframe. He closes the door, and leans against it, looking to the other two in the room. He breathes, and cracks his knuckles, looking up at the sky and thinking for a moment about how to proceed, before he does.

"This match against Marcus is everything for me. Moreso than any of my other matches in Freedom Pro have been. My last match against MDE was big, sure, but it wasn't this big. I proved I belonged there, but now? Now I have to prove i'm not a fluke and lost cause. I took no losses after I won my belt from Jameson, and I held that undefeated streak until Tommy Storm managed to get a good shot off on me and put me down. Respect to the man, of course-he's a damn good hardcore champion and you've got a hell of a fight going against him-but I was so, so fucking close until my body gave out on me. Against Sevren, the same thing almost happened, but you know what? 

I realized how big this was for me. For the fans, of course, and for FPW, even bigger. They couldn't see me drop this case, this thing, this legacy that i'd built up on a defense i'd taken up on a whim. But for me...this case, this match, MAJ and his title...that's everything for me. If I lose, I prove MAJ and every person in this company who's doubted me from the beginning right-that Graham Baker's a flash in the pan, a man to win a few matches and dip off back to his trashcan indies to compete in a few deathmatches for a tallboy and a hot dog before he goes back to his day job. I might get a bit of heat, of course, but in FPW I'll be dead in the water. I'll be...well, I might as well not even fucking be here. 

I have one option here, and that option is to win. If I can't, then I'm gone. Burn my contract and toss it out with the spring cleaning. I'll take a couple months off and head back to London, maybe try to beg my parents for a spot in the shop so I can make something of my life, marry the first girl who comes along who doesn't ask too many questions about the scars and subside for the next few decades 'til I choke on my own life and die as a footnote in the history books of this industry. I can't let this company sink further with MAJ at the head, I can't let anyone-be it you guys, the fans, Houston, anyone who I've taken opportunity from to get here-down. MAJ is good, even great, but I have to be better. I have to be at my peak.

I have to do more than I've ever done, or I may as well not do anything at all. I know you guys will be here...but if I can't do this, then you might as well just stick to yourselves. Liz, you'll win that belt and make history as the first FPW Women's Champion. Grimm, you'll win the hardcore, maybe win the world title down the line, they'll make you famous. You guys have time, but I...I'm young, and this is my proving ground. The era of the Underdog's over, the era of the Aviator is now, and if I can't ascend to that height...

...Well, then I can't. Then...i'm done."

At this, Baker opens the door and leaves to return to training while Karlson and Grimm share a final glance before planning out their own regiments...

[Jim Houston]

Here we go again...

The video begins with MDE standing outside a door marked 'Female Locker Room'. He waits for a few moments, bag slung over his shoulder, before the door opens. MDE sets off as if he's been walking the whole time as Berry Bishop comes through the door. MDE doesn't turn or pause; he just keeps walking on.

Berry: Wait up!

MDE turns, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Berry: I thought you said you'd wait for me? I can't believe you almost left without me saying thank you.

MDE: I have a plane to catch.

Berry drops her bag and wraps her arms around MDE, hugging him tight. He puts a cursory arm around her, but keeps his other by his side.

Berry: Thank you. I've learned so much.

She pulls away to see MDE looking as stone-faced as ever.

MDE: You've learned some basics. It's not much, but it'll help you. I'll see you in December.

MDE turns but Berry sets off to walk with him.

Berry: I'll walk you out... I just want to thank you again. I know I'm not the typical kind of girl you might train... in fact, I don't know if anyone is the typical kind of person you might train... but I think you're a great teacher. People are wrong about you. You're not so bad. Still a bit scary... but not so bad.

MDE: As far as Bishops go, you've been fairly tolerable.

Berry smiles. After a few more paces they reach the exit. MDE continues walking but Berry grabs his arm.

Berry: Maybe... maybe in December when you're back we could... train some more?

MDE: Maybe. You still have a lot to learn. If I could have stayed, you could have been almost as good as Karlson by the match. Better than Evans probably. You'd make a fun project.

There's a momentary pause as MDE looks thoughtful.

MDE: In fact... have you ever been to England?

Berry looks a little confused.

Berry: Yeah... I went last year when... wait... why?

MDE: Then you'll still be able to get back into the country. How about it? You keep learning and I get to train with a real life Bishop. You scratch my back and...

Berry stares, wide-eyed, for a few moments.

Berry: Me? Go to Eng... to train with... I...I...I... I don't know. I mean... I've got to see Jerry and... I've got to feed Fozzy when he's away and... and of course there’s Cactus Jack.

MDE: You know Mick Foley?

Berry: No, I just have a lot of succulents. See?

Berry takes out her phone and shows MDE a series of photos of cacti decorated in various wrestlers’ attires. MDE rolls his eyes.

MDE: Think about it. Give me your phone.

Berry: What? Why?

MDE: I'll give you my number. If you want to come... all you have to do is ask.

Berry hands it to MDE, who puts in his details as she stands there looking torn. He then hands back the phone and turns and walks away, leaving Berry speechless in front of the gym.

[marileeg17]

Dario and Haych are sitting in a small locker room, much different than that of typical FPW shows. The two are watching the latest FPW video on Dario's cell phone and both are trying hard not to burst out laughing.

D: Now I know why the boss loves this. It's a fuckin riot, that little bitch.

Haych just nods his head before looking at his watch.

H: Main event should be wrapping up soon, no?

D: Yep, almost time to make our run in. Who are we attacking again?

Haych shrugs.

H: Hell if I know. I thought you had the list.

Dario empties out his pockets and pulls out just about everything but a piece of paper.

D: Shit, I think I left it in my other gear.

Haych frowns.

H: Great, so what do we do now? You know he's gonna be pissed if we don't deliver.

Dario thinks for a second and then flashes a grin not unlike one Marcus would wear.

D: Why not just beat the shit outta both of them? I know how much you like kicking ass and taking names. Well, since we can't remember what name to take, why not just take both?

Haych smiles and puts his arm around Dario's shoulder.

H: I like the way you think uce, but quick question: Which one are we gonna cost the match?

Dario looks at the monitor and as he does so, the camera reveals several security guards and personnel knocked out.

D: Mmmmm, that one.

Dario points at the screen and Haych nods his head. The two fist bump and then run out of the curtain...

Ian Riccaboni: Zack Sabre Jr. is showing every bit of why he's the techical wizard but Jonathan Gresham isn't letting up. These are two of the best in the world at what they do as ring technicians and this crowd is being treated to an absolute---What the hell?!?

The camera pans to reveal Dario and Haych running through the curtain which causes Sabre and Gresham to stop their match. Gresham releases a headlock as the two look up to see the Invaders entering the ring.

Colt Cabana: That's Dario and Haych! Freedom Pro Wrestling's Invaders have invaded a Ring of Honor ring. This is amazing!

Ian Riccaboni: Amazing? I don't know about that but I sure as hell don't like where this is going...

Back in the ring, both Sabre and Gresham are on the same side as Dario and Haych are approaching them. Gresham bounds off the ropes and flies at Haych, taking him down with a flurry of punches. Sabre engages with Dario but it's not long until the Invader lands a swinging backfist which causes the referee to ring the bell. Haych and Dario get the upperhand and continue to beat both Sabre and Gresham to a bloody pulp, grabbing all kinds of weapons and fighting off security and several other ROH wrestlers from the back. 

Ian Riccaboni: Someone needs to stop these two! 

ROH management finally diffuse the situation but it's mostly because Dario and Haych have let up. They seem to be waiting for something. Before anymore carnage can occur however, the overhead screen lights up and Marcus' smiling face appears.

Ian Riccaboni: Marcus Allen Jones?! What the hell is going on?

Colt Cabana: Chicago's finest has graced us with his presence!

Ian Riccaboni: Yeah and his lackeys have beaten up half our roster and not to mention, interrupted one of the best TV matches in this company's history!

Colt Cabana: Let's just see what he has to say.

MAJ: Why hello there New York City and welcome to Ring of Honor Wrestling! You know, I've always had a lot of respect for this company. Started with nothing but a dream but now look at you. You're successful, you're putting on great matches and you're producing great talent. Let's hear it for Ring of Honor!

The crowd slowly begin to clap in small pockets.

MAJ: But see, all that talent, they just leave for greener pastures because deep down, this company SUCKS. Yeah, you heard me ROH. And the talent that chooses to stay here, I'm looking at you Jay Lethal, you're either just plain dumb or you have zero aspirations. Knock, knock Jay, when WWE comes calling you say yes. Trust me when I say I'll leave FPW and these damn-awful indies for the E before the ink is even dry on my current contract. The indies are a means to an end, nothing more. And people that think being the best ever in Ring of Honor is some kind of accomplishment, it's not. All it took was two of my guys to come in here and beat the shit out of two of your guys who are supposed to be two of the best? Really? I guess I shouldn't be surprised though given who they seem to train with.

Marcus pauses and turns his head.

MAJ: Oh hi Graham. Look, I'm breaking the fourth wall. You might be wondering right about now why I'm here in ROH. Well, the answer is simple. I saw your last video, your heart wrenching story about how you have to beat me, how your entire identity is tied to beating me. I almost shed a tear but then I realized, I'll save the tears for when you leave Freedom Pro Wrestling after Judgment Day. What kind of wrestler, what kind of man, sits in front of a camera and says, "if I lose, I give up." A coward that's who. And Graham, I never pegged you as a coward, not until I saw that video. Just like your buddies who are lying in a heap in their own ring, you're a joke. You think you deserve to be champion? You think you deserve to be the ace FPW needs? Newsflash kid, this is a Batman movie and I'm the starring role. And as Gordon says, "Batman's the hero Gotham deserves, not the one it needs." FPW doesn't need you and it sure as hell doesn't deserve me. But I'm what it gets because at the end of the day, this company has climbed to recognition because of me. And I didn't need to defend this belt up and down the indies to prove it. See Graham, unlike you, my self worth isn't tied to championships. When I first came to FPW I didn't even give two shits about them. I mean after all, what more is this than just metal plates on a leather strap? The mark of a champion is excellence, not a silly prop.

Marcus takes the belt off his waist and lays it on the ground. He steps back so the camera has a full view of the title.

MAJ: Somewhere, I lost my way. Somewhere, I started caring a lot more about this thing than I ever wanted. And it's time that ends. So, since I've devalued it enough already by allowing it to be shown on ROH's scumbag TV, it's time to take things a step further. Baker, I'm here in Ring of Honor because I thought I'd try things your way. Because I thought I'd do the indie thing to show you that it's not that I can't be a global champion, it's that I don't choose to be. I have no interest in defending this title outside of FPW, but if I must, why not tonight? Why not here in good ol' Ring of Honor?

Again, the crowd start to cheer a bit anticipating a championship match.

MAJ: I thought about it but then I realized, these people don't deserve to see me in their ring. They don't deserve the buyrate I provide. That's why I changed course and came here undetected and decided the best these fans will get is me on this screen. So enjoy it while it lasts ROH because you'll never see me here again. And that goes for IMPACT and MLW and PROGRESS and NWA and DEFY and PCW ULTRA and CZW and Beyond and Lucha Underground and CMLL and wXw and WrestlePro and all those other trash bag indies out there. I don't wrestle for handshakes and hot dogs. I wrestle for me, the greatest wrestler on the planet. I don't wrestle for this title, to me it means nothing, but to it I mean everything. The world is tweeting about me being here right now and that's because I made the championship matter, I made FPW matter. In four months Graham, you haven't even been able to make you matter. So you really think you're the savior huh? We'll see. But all I know is that I'm ratings gold and you're just a bargain basement excuse for a wrestler. If you need to wrestle globally, go right ahead. But I'll be staying here, in FPW, in my kingdom, continuing to prove why I'm everything I say I am. You're nothing Baker, just like Sabre, just like Gresham, just like any of your little friends you want to name drop. See I can drop names too. Bruno Sammartino, Kazuchika Okada, Brock Lesnar. My championship reign is going to be etched alongside legends and you, I guess since you're a quitter, you'll just have to go back to thinking even 100 people at an armory will still respect you. If they ever did. Oh and one more thing, I hope you can sleep tonight while this little refrain sits in your mind:

Marcus picks his title back up and begins to whisper into the mic: "You tapped out. You tapped out. You tapped out."

MAJ: Well Ring of Honor, it's been real. Good luck surviving WWE's next talent raid...Actually, scratch that. I hope they take the heart and soul of this company so it can finally meet its overdue demise.

The video ends but the Invaders don't leave right away.

D: Clutch and Bolt, take a good look at these two. If you walk away now, you'll get to keep your careers.

That's when Haych grabs the chair he had used earlier and pushes it hard into Sabre's back before Dario just spits on and then superkicks Gresham as he tries to get to his feet. The crowd begins to throw trash in the ring at the two but Haych just flashes the double bird before the Invaders leave up the ramp.

[The_Aviator_GB]

Just after the intermission of an AAW show in Chicago, the murmur of a post-break crowd is broken by the crack of static as 'Cult of Personality' begins playing and the crowd begins to grow more and more anticipatory in hope of their favored son, Marcus Allen Jones, returning home to Chicago for one night only. The anticipation builds, but as the curtains open and the theme changes from 'Cult of Personality' to 'DNA', the crowd goes rabid as they realize they're about to witness history. Graham Baker steps out into the entrance ramp, a bag over his shoulder and a look of determination on his face. He walks toward the ring, throwing the bag inside and rolling under the bottom rope, clad in a sleeveless ZSJ shirt. He looks to the crowd for a moment, and asks for a microphone, catching one that's tossed to him by the ring announcer. Baker cracks his neck, looking to the crowd as they go more and more feverish, before he lifts the microphone to his mouth.

Just so we're all on the same page, I intend to show my respect for you all in the back, in the crowd, and this sport as a whole by not interrupting a match and not taking up too much of your time. I figured, since Marcus decided to strike at a place of sentimentality, that I'll do the same for him. Want to make sure that we're not having mixed messages and we're all on the same page, is all. 

You'll see, if you haven't already, that Marcus and The Invaders opted to ambush two of my good friends in this sport, disgrace the name of the independent scene, and ruin the end of a Ring of Honor show in the beautiful city of New York. They beat Zack Sabre Jr and Jonathan Gresham with a variety of weaponry to the point that the two men are out of competition for some time to recover. Marcus, of course, took the time to take credit for the attack despite sending his two buddies to handle it, and made a few fancy comments about 'leaving FPW before the ink on his WWE contract was dry', that the 'independent scene is a means to an end', and one that I found particularly interesting, that the gold of a championship doesn't make the champion, but rather the excellence.

He opted to take advantage of my altered state, my lack of self confidence going into my first world title match, and for a second, he might've had me, until I remember that he's harmed two men incredibly close to me. Now, Marcus, being a slimy piece of shit with the charisma of the moldy bits of a dry-rot steak, doesn't have many friends close to him that he'd take aversion to being hurt. Marcus wants to claim all he can that he's going to WWE as fast as he can, that he has no heart in the indies, that he's not grateful for all that you all have done for him, and honestly, that's bullshit. 

At this, the crowd boos, and a 'Fuck you Marcus' chant breaks out. Baker basks in it for a moment, before pulling the microphone back up.

Now, Marcus has proven one point, that he cares little about the people who helped him get where he is. Marcus proved my second point, that he's unfit to be the Ace of Freedom Pro Wrestling and that he's ready to leave at a moment's notice. He's proven that he's got an inflated ego, comparing himself to Bruno Sammartino, Okada, the whole nine fucking yards. Marcus harped on the fact that I said if I can't get the job done, that i'm done, and he harped on the fact that, as I said before, gold means nothing to him. I figured, before anything else, I'd put that last one to the test.

Baker opens the bag he brought with him, pulling out the FPW Young Lions' Cup. He holds it up aloft for the crowd to see, and they cheer its appearance. Baker lays it down with sanctity on the ground in front of him, sitting it and looking down at it. He pulls the microphone back up. 

The Freedom Pro Wrestling Young Lions' Cup, the first shot I had at a major title win in any major promotion, and a tournament that I unfortunately fell out of in the first round. I'm willing to look past that, but the other thing that this cup has going for it is that it was, in fact, the first major title win for Marcus Allen Jones in all of wrestling. Marcus wants to claim that gold means nothing to him, that trophies mean little, that anything he's done in FPW pales in comparison to what he'll do on a bigger stage...but I think that's bullshit. I think that Marcus cares more about this trophy than he's cared about anything before. Hell, that doesn't even need to be that much, but I'm sure it's enough.

Baker reaches into the bag again, and pulls something else out...a sledgehammer. Baker feels the end of it, looking it over.

Marcus, you always were a fan of your catchy inside references, your little sly in-jokes that got your internet buddies all riled up. Let me hit you with one real quick...

...It's time to play the game.

Without any further fanfare, Baker swings the sledgehammer hard down on the trophy once, making a sizable dent and bending the cup inward. He hits it multiple times, folding the 'cup' entirely inside of itself, before he slams into the side of it. He slams it a few more times, breaking the trophy into two pieces, the cup bent and warped beyond recognition while the stand is filled with cracks and bleeding sawdust like an arterial wound. Baker punts the base out of the ring, sending it crashing into the barricade, and drops the sledgehammer next to him before he picks the microphone back up.

Now you see, Marcus, what I can do when I'm incensed. You've come for the things I love, I respect, I cherish, and just as you can take from me, I can take from you, too. You've done more than light my fire, you've filled me with gasoline and dropped a pack of lit matches, and now i'm burning up all over again. This is not a match anymore, Marcus, this is war, and you're Napoleon in my Russia. I'm going scorched earth, and no matter what stipulation you pick, how many buddies you gather, how many finishers you think you can hit, how much you train to escape from every hold, how many internet fans you make get their rocks off to your next self-proclaimed five star match, you cannot fucking escape me. I am going to break every single one of your limbs, and just like Gresham and Sabre, you will become very intimately familiar with the concept of spending weeks laid up in bed, watching your savings dwindle as your bookings pass you by and by, feeling every part of your being ache as you remember what I did to you when I held your title aloft and declared myself the true, righteous ace of Freedom Pro Wrestling.

Here's another inside reference for you, buddy-when i'm done with you, much like your boy Hunter buried all those young, up-and-coming talents, they're going to have to bury what's left of you in Chicago, and there are going to be two things that people remember when they lower you down:

One, the fact that I came to your first promotion, destroyed your first trophy, and made a mockery of your first year in this sport,

and Two, how you sounded when you cried as you tapped out to the Emergency Landing.

So come one, come all. Bring your Invaders and more to Judgment Day, because every single fucking one of you is on my list. 

I'll see you in December.

The crowd looks to be in shock as Baker rolls out of the ring, walking to the back with a fire and fervor as the remnants of the Young Lions' Cup and Baker's sledgehammer sit in the ring...