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Thread: Rope Break TV

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    Rope Break TV

    "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a world title, must be in want of an ass whoopin'." ~ Jane Austen

    The jet black helicopter hovered above the new arena. Its rotor blades whirled and groaned loudly against the twilight sky. The group that stood waiting for its landing covered their ears, and stepped several yards away cautiously. One woman, however, approached the vehicle close enough that she could have reached out and touched the landing skids. She grinned toothily at the helicopter, her pink and blue bangs hiding her almond eyes.

    As the chopper landed on the giant “A” pad, the door swung open. Another woman, younger than the assistant who helped her out of the whirlybird, stepped out and surveyed the line of people assigned to her. Her brunette hair danced maddeningly over her shoulder; the blades slowing down at a snail’s pace. She kept her gaze on the group as she walked and listened to what her colleague informed her on.

    “Everything you have asked for is coming,” Akane Summers shouted confidently, reading from a clipboard tucked in her arm whose papers threatened to flail against the wind. “Lighting is already taken care of. There will be a midnight blue tint to them when not in use. This will cut down on costs and look good on camera. If we used standard, then we’d have to worry about UV rays and shadows where we don’t want them to be. There is also a backlight effect we can run with on special occasions, but repeated use can make the company look amateurish. Video quality is hi-def, at best 1080p on our computer screens.”

    “What about sound?”

    “The arena has strong acoustics, which is a pro and a con. Even a mediocre chant will look solid when we’re live, but the place will sound monstrous if they get really, really excited. In person it will be a sight. On camera? Maybe a bit too rowdy.”

    “Volume control, then. Music?”

    “We’ve sent out requests, and we expect to pay royalties. The budget is covered. In my professional opinion, the songs we are asking for should not be a problem, Miss Autumn.”

    “Excellent. Where is my roster?”

    Akane knew the question would be asked, and braced herself. “Well umm there is a problem with that. Professional wrestling has hit something of a slump at the moment. Promotions are not willing to share talent. At least 98% of the industry is working with written contracts. Getting desirable acquisitions has been close to impossible.”

    Autumn sighed. “How impossible?”


    “Four? Are you telling me that we have signed four fucking wrestlers so far? Do you know how close we are to airing, Miss Summers?”

    “ I mean four able-bodies. One manager, three wrestlers.”

    Autumn closed her eyes. The noise from the helicopter was dying down, and conversation was returning to a normal volume. She stared at the line of personnel.

    “I will have to have a conference with the network. They’ll either pull us or cut our time in half. This is a disgrace, Miss Summers. I leave it up to you to find me freelancers who are willing to work an open contract. Hire local if need be. I did not want to have our season’s pilot full of nobodies, but sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    “Pray they don’t expurgate this whole thing. Now, our last rendezvous you mentioned you’d find me a star. We were to meet here. So...where is he?”

    Akane brightened, and gestured to the end of the row of employees. A stocky, bearded man in a maroon suit nodded stoically. By his side was a slim, unkempt gentleman in aviators and gold chains. A Star of David hung loosely against his chest hair.

    “Ms. Autumn, may I present you The Moscow Mauler, WZCW’s own Victor Makarov!”

    The boss looked at the large Russian as a scientist would a specimen.

    “Charmed,” she replied, extending a hand to Victor. The jewish man beside him took it and kissed it awkwardly for several seconds.

    “Oh that’s good perfume. Dior? My ex wife wore Laurent, the basic braud.”

    “...excuse me?” Akane and Autumn said in unison.

    “I’m sorry, forgive my manners. My name is Freddie Fortune, and I’m Makarov’s manager. Call me Freddie. Or Fortune. Heck, you two can call me anytime.”

    Ms. Autumn stiffened. “Are you sure these two are from WZCW?”

    Akane reddened. “Ab-absolutely. The Mauler held gold there, and Mr. Fortune was a beloved personality for several years. They are major names in the business. Definitely the biggest we have signed.”

    “That goes without saying, Summers.”

    “Yes ma’am,” she replied, staring at the ground.

    “Well,” Autumn continued, ”I plan on running a wrestling show, if funds permit me. It will be streamed through several websites as well as a reputable television station. It’s been a few years since you’ve stepped foot inside a ring, correct? Can I trust you to make me some money, Mr. Makarov?”

    “He can’t speak,” Freddie Fortune told her. “Had his tongue cut out. But I can vouch for my client. He’s an international phenomenon. Best hands and feet in the game. You won’t be disappointed.”

    “See to it that he’s ready. I plan to make him my champion,” she said, turning her heel and walking away.

    Victor and Freddie waited awkwardly as Akane flipped through her notes.

    “Alright, it says here she has you down for the pilot’s Main Event. If you win the match, she will present you with the championship the following week in the middle of the ring. Your opponent will be...oh...oh crap.”

    Akane Summers stared dumbfounded at her clipboard. She bit her lip and turned her attention back to the two men.

    “It appears that position has not been filled yet. The two other wrestlers who’ve signed do not meet Ms. Autumn’s standards and are to fight one another that same night. I will have to find somebody she will accept. Please overlook this rookie mistake. We here at Rope Break TV are committed to bringing every personnel up to speed as quickly as possible. This will not happen again.”

    She bowed apologetically before scurrying off to find Autumn. Freddie looked up at his client, and then looked back at the women leaving.

    “Well, this ain’t Russia... so we’ll take it, right?”

    Victor Makarov nodded.

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  3. #2
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    Roster & Bio

    Roster as of 04/24/18:

    Name: Victor Makarov
    Billing: Moscow, Russia
    Style: Brawler / Striker / Fistfighter
    1. Da Sveedaneeya - Twisting Uppercut
    2. Mother Russia - Sweet Chin Music
    Position As Of Pilot: Main Event
    Contract: Closed ($300,000/yr)

    Name: Aquarius
    Billing: Portland, OR
    Style: Unorthodox / Light Grappler / Impact
    Finisher: Dawn Breaker - Top Rope Leaping Bulldog
    Position As Of Pilot: Upper Midcarder
    Contract: Closed ($120,000/yr)

    Name: Brick Mason
    Billing: Providence, RI
    Style: Brawler / Heavy Lifting / Old School Style
    Finisher: Brick Kick - Big Boot
    Position As Of Pilot: Upper Midcarder
    Contract: N/A

    Name: Americore
    Billing: Richmond, VA
    Style: Technician / Submission Focus / Aggressor
    1. The Flag Mid-Staff - Triangle Lancer
    2. The Flag She Waves - Rolling Triangle Lancer
    Position As Of Pilot: Upper Midcarder
    Contract: Closed ($100,000/yr)

    Name: MT Midas
    Billing: Cinnci
    Style: Aerialist / Light Grappler / Showboat Dynamic
    1. The Bad Touch - Reverse 450
    2. 24 KT - Widowmaker
    Position As Of Pilot: Midcarder
    Contract: Open ($20,000/per appearance)

    Name: The Roach
    Billing: Under Your Refridgerator
    Style: Aerialist / Luchador / Impact
    Finisher: It Has Wings! - Double Underhook Front Flip Piledriver
    Position As Of Pilot: Jobber
    Contract: Open ($10,000/per appearance)

    Name: Stetson Hayes
    Billing: Corpus Christi, TX
    Style: Brawler / Amateur Technician/ Aggressor
    1. Texas Cloverleaf
    2. Snap Powerbomb
    Position As Of Pilot: Midcarder
    Contract: Open ($20,000/per appearance)

    Name: Espada
    Billing: Carlsbad, NM
    Style: Powerhouse / Heavy Lifting / Heavy Grappling
    Finisher: Hrunting - Scoop Brainbuster
    Position As Of Pilot: Low Midcarder
    Contract: Open ($15,000/per appearance)

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    Autumn Meets Brick Mason

    Autumn sat at her desk, stamping approvals on wrestler applications without a second glance. She was just about to call in her secretary when there was a knock at the door. Akane stepped in quietly and sheepishly. A man older than both women combined followed her and stood by the coffee colored rug adjacent to the owner's desk. Autumn looked the senior citizen up and down, and sighed.

    "Miss Autumn," Summers gestured with a formal hand,"I would like you to meet Brick Mason."

    "Hello there," Mason replied politely, extending an arm out to the boss. She watched on from her seat.

    "Trainer or Road Agent?"

    "Neither ma'am," Akane said. She cleared her throat, and smiled hopefully. "He is a wrestler."

    Autumn paused. The woman sat upright in her chair and rested her elbows on the desk. She allowed her fingertips to touch in mock contemplation before getting up and going over to Brick Mason. She circled him, surveying every inch of him to the point of making Brick uncomfortable. She sighed, and spoke to Akane with her eyes still glued to the talent. "I have no use for him," she said plainly.

    Brick stiffened. "May I ask why, Miss Autumn?"

    "How old are you?"

    "I'm 51."

    "Your records indicate you are in your sixties, Mr. Mason. Not only are you well passed the target demographic for my show, but you're also a liar."

    "I can move very well for someone my age. I'm reliable in the ring and out, as my references will tell ya. Age is just a number."

    Autumn laughed, making Akane jump. "No, age isn't just a number. I need attractive, athletic men and women on Rope Break TV. This isn't the VFW. I can't use you."

    "He's athletic," Akane interjected. "I found him in Rhode Island fighting three men at once. He can really go."

    The boss considered her remark, and placed a hand on Brick's forearm, running it up to his shoulder and stopping at his neck. "You're made of stone, I will give you that," she admitted, biting her lip. She turned away and went to the pile of applications. "I've already given you my acceptance on paper, lucky for you, but I'm not entirely sold on the idea of a geriatric in wrestling. How does one go about selling an old man on their wrestling show, Miss Summers?"

    "I uh would make him sympathetic, of course."

    "Of course," she imitated, rolling her eyes in the process. "Brick Mason, I am giving you my Main Event. You will be facing what was once the best free agent in wrestling, Victor Makarov. He's ours now, and if you want to officially be a part of Rope Break TV as well, I need you to win that match."

    Akane and Mason exchanged glances. Autumn continued, sitting back at her desk.

    "Yes, this is how you make a program. If Makarov wins, he is promised the World title the following episode. I'm not giving you a title right away, Brick. You're a day away from a hip replacement. You need to impress me. If you win, I will guarantee you a contract and then we'll see about giving you more down the road. But if you lose...I don't expect to see you in my office again. Do you understand my ultimatum?" she asked, a grin plastered on her young face.

    "I-I do."

    "Best of luck against my top talent, then. Now leave me in peace."

    Brick Mason exited her office. She stacked her papers neatly into a vanilla folder and asked Akane to take the applications away. When she was alone, she twirled a pen in her hand and bit at the end of it.

    " stone...nice..."

    Main Event
    Brick Mason v. Victor Makarov w/Freddie Fortune
    Contract v. Title Match

    Stop by Spidey's Snack Shack and get yourself a bite!

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    Undercard for the Pilot Episode:

    Stetson Hayes & MT Midas v. The Roach & Espada
    Tag Team Match

    Secondary Match
    Aquarius v. Americore
    One On One

    Due to narrative, the undercard will be a Quick Result of a series of notable moments and victories. Focus will be on the Main Event and will be written in long form. Segments will be uploaded in the near future, and will be capped off by Makarov vs. Mason. The next episode in the series begins directly after.

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    Autumn peered down at the ring from her skybox. The show's opener, a tag team match, went poorly. Espada was a cheap acquisition, and she saw why. Too stiff, and too little flavor to him. The Roach was not a winner in any stretch of her mind, but he was getting cheers. The same could not be said for Stetson Hayes and MT Midas, but they were at least capable in the ring. The experiment between the four was a failure. Autumn kept her composure by finishing her glass of Pinot Noir and raising herself from her seat. She excused herself from the investors and took the elevator down to the ground floor.

    She could hear the booing reverberating off of its steel walls. By midnight, critics would hound social media, tearing away at the jumpstart federation before it could prepare its second show. As far as she knew, they were doing it from the stands right then. Autumn clenched her teeth between her velvet lips as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. She stepped out into the lobby.

    Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor. Two bored employees leaned against the concessions counter. When they saw her coming, they snapped to attention.

    "Get Ms. Summers down here now. Radio her in."


    When Akane entered the lobby, she was accompanied by an short but intimidating man in a reptilian mask. Autumn smiled and extended her hand to him.

    "Your representation precedes you ... Mr. Dragon."

    The man took her hand and gave a small kiss. Autumn's eyes fluttered.

    "His father's name was Mr. Dragon!" he exclaimed good-naturedly. "He says to call him El Caidos Dragon if you please."

    "Apologies, my friend. I take the contract signing went off without a hitch?" she asked, eyeing Akane.

    Summers bit her lip. "Yes, Ms. Autumn. ECD will be ready to compete by our next event."

    Ms. Autumn nodded, taking in the former tag team champion. El Caidos stood and watched her stoically. She delivered her next lines with utmost precision, like asking a student to stay in for recess to work on an assignment.

    "El Caidos, I am in something of a bind this evening. My opener was horrible, and I don't think two ladies from the independent circuit are going to give this show enough umph. My main event is between a fellow WZCW member, Makarov, and some old circus performer my assistant unfortunately found. I need something that will make my audience tune in next week. So how about spicing this place up for me? Will you interfere with the Mason/Makarov match for me?"

    She asked earnestly, darting her eyes between his and the mask he wore. The Dragon crossed his arms, thinking it over.

    "He refuses to be that kind of man."

    They stood in silence. The crowd roared louder.

    "I see," Autumn said, barely hiding her disappointment. "Well, no use just having our star here loitering around like a spectator. Please get in touch with your handlers soon so we can set you up properly. If you can, we could get an autograph booth up before the show ends."

    El Caidos thanked her and left the lobby. Left by themselves and the arena staff, Akane began to apologize.

    "Miss Autumn, I-"

    Her face was met with a hard slap, making her stumble. Autumn kept her now red hand in the air, as if posing for another strike.

    "I told you..." she said in a whisper, " find me stars for this program. You gave me a geriatric and a disobedient lizard. This entire place is going up in flames and you hand me a cup of water. I'm disappointed in your work ethic. After everything I've done for you, taking you away from that horrid place, you shirk your responsibilities off the one day they matter most."

    "I...I'm s-sorry..."

    "I don't want apologies. I want results. We have less than an hour to give these fans something to talk about besides the shit wrestling. I have come too far now to see my season premiere go down as nothing more than a house show with pretty lights. I'm not some shady businessman who picks up his kid from school with alcohol on his breath," she stopped herself, closing her eyes to gather her thoughts. "I'm a fucking visionary, and I'm looking bad in front of the investors right now. When I look bad, you and the locker room become those penniless animals you find in the alleys of this city. Am I coming in clear, Akane?"

    She whimpered, and nodded. Autumn adjusted her business attire and smiled.

    "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make," she said, taking a cellphone from her jacket pocket. "And Akane..."

    Her assistant beamed up at her, still covering her face.

    "Do not mistake my physicality with brutality. You are in a violent profession and a flick of my wrist is no exertion on my part. Wash your face and do not let me down again."

    With the clicking of her heels, Autumn left Akane in the lobby.

    Quick Results

    MT Midas & Stetson Hayes def. The Roach & Espada after Midas gave Espada The Bad Touch

    Stop by Spidey's Snack Shack and get yourself a bite!

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    So Proudly We Hail

    "We need a medic!"

    Staff led Aquarius out from the arena curtains and into the gorilla position. Like sharks to blood, amateur journalists and freelance photographers were at the ready with their questions and their cameras. Personnel asked the mob to back up as a doctor checked on the girl's injury.

    "Show it to me," he told her with some irritation. One interviewer in particular gave him a hard time.

    "Listen here," WrestleWall columnist Ray Webber butted in, "I hate seein' her all hurt but it's just an arm. We need to get the scoop on why she's signed to Rope Break and not WZCW. Any comment about your best friend, who recently had to quit over there? I know you're silently protestin' but you can write or text me on what's going on..."

    Before either man could instigate the situation further, Aquarius's opponent pushed them away and went on the assault. Americore reached for the arm and whipped her into a catering table. Coffee and doughnuts spilled out as it collapsed. For good measure the redhead took Aquarius by the arm again and applied The PSA (Presidential Seal of Approval) - a Triangle Lancer submission!!

    Click for Spoiler:

    Several aides and staff came to help the screaming Aquarius, peeling the patriot off of her. Satisfied, she turned her attention to one of the many cameras capturing the footage.

    "See this?" she asked, sweeping her hand over to her opponent. "This is the result of being on the wrong side of history. Another dirty hippie who wanted to prance around waving her big girl panties for all to see. Miss Autumn may think it prudent to give talentless hacks like Aquarius a handout, but not me. My name is Americore, and this repulsive behavior will no longer stand in my America. I cannot accept another whiny protest. You want to stay silent, I'll make you talk!"

    Americore started for Aquarius again, but stopped herself. Giggling, she twirled her hair and continued.

    "All of your petty hashtag revolutions will fall at my feet. I'm taking it all back. I'm taking family values back. I'm taking wholesome, beautiful, free land of Liberty back, whether any of you like it or not."

    She smiled a smile reminiscent of housewives in a 1950s commercial.

    Quick Results:

    Aquarius def. Americore after Americore wouldn't release her hold during Rope Break (DQ)

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    Victor Makarov vs. Brick Mason

    Brick Mason was already in the ring by the time Makarov's Russian anthem played. Appearing clean-shaven and sporting a toupee, Freddie Fortune accompanied his client, and as they stepped out from the florescent rainbow that was the entranceway, the live crowd cheered in surprise. The Worlds Break Championship, a title the company had not promoted in any way, hung around his waist.

    Freddie leapt onto the ring apron and pushed the top rope higher to allow Makarov entrance. The Mauler climbed the steel steps and went through the ropes - the Worlds Break Championship glistening in the ring's white spotlight. As he entered the ring, he removed the title and raised it proudly into the air and was met with confused cheers.

    Brick Mason clutched his wrists and rotated them, cracking his neck in the process. Makarov smirked, his eyes filled with unbridled confidence. Freddie exited the ring. The referee checked both men for concealed weapons before backing away and ringing the bell.

    The two combatants made circles around each other, both trying to intimidate his peer. They locked up - Makarov being the aggressor. Brick was immediately shoved to the ground. The Mauler clapped his hands in Mason's face in disrespect. The aged veteran got back to his feet and locked horns with the Russian again, with Brick driving Victor into a turnbuckle post. As the referee called for him to release his hold, Mason motioned with his hands that he would, and then elbowed Makarov in the gut. The Mauler clutched his stomach, and scowled when Mason started clapping in his own face.

    Enraged, the former WZCW megastar pulled himself up using the ropes and rammed his arm into the carnival wrestler's chest. The impact was heard clearly from ringside. Mason staggered, but did not go down. Makarov struck him again, and again Mason stayed on his feet. Perplexed, the professional striker buried his naked heel into Mason's ribs, and the flurry was too fast for the senior citizen to block. Brick Mason fell to the mat with one knee. The silent warrior grabbed his head and tucked it underneath his arm. Victor Makarov bellowed, and dropped his opponent with a DDT. He wrapped his legs around Mason's midsection where his ribs showed signs of bruising. The DDT + Body Scissors made the old superstar scream in agony. An arm searched for ropes and found none.

    Freddie Fortune shouted "End this now!" at his client from ringside.

    Victor applied pressure. Brick placed his palms onto the canvas and lifted himself up, but Makarov's weight was too much and he crumpled at the attempt. His arms went limp. The referee snatched his wrist, raised it at the sky, and then released. Mason's hand slapped the mat. The referee yelled "One!". He repeated the processes, and for a second time he audibly counted slowly up to three. Makarov arched his back, wrenching Brick's neck. For the final time, the referee raised Mason's hand up and then let go - his hand stayed erect. The crowd showed signs of life by stomping their feet at the bold choice to stay in the fight with a young and hungry Makarov. Victor grimaced as he felt himself levitate inches into the air. Brick pushed himself up a second time and kept himself composed! Brick hammered a gloved fist into Victor's back, pounding at his kidney until his opponent couldn't firmly hold on to the body scissors. Victor's legs released their grasp, Brick got his own arm around Victor's neck, and he executed a Suplex towards the center of the ring.

    Victor would not stay down as Brick tried to cover him. A hard right uppercut met the veteran's jawline, and he walked into the ropes in a daze. The Mauler hopped back to his feet and gritted his teeth at his adversary. He charged the old man, but Brick plopped down and with one arm sent Victor vaulting over the ropes and to the outside. The Russian howled at the pain that shot through his side.

    Brick Mason took his time leaving the ring. The Mauler crawled to the steel steps where his opponent found him. Brick stomped on Victor's hand, causing him to howl again. "One!" the referee called from the inside. Brick held Victor's arm down and stomped on his hand again, trying to keep the pure striker from using it against him. Victor clutched his hand and headbutted Mason - Mason tripped over the stairs and planted himself near Freddie Fortune. "Two!" was heard following.

    Fortune turned to his left and right comically before pulling his tie off. He wrapped it around Brick's neck and tugged with everything he had. The referee broke his count at the illegal albeit outside strategy. Mason reeled and bucked like a bull, grabbing at the greasy Hollywood-type until Victor came back around and dropped a boot across his head with a running legdrop. Freddie fell on his ass and the tie was quickly confiscated by the referee.

    The referee started the ten count again. Victor pulled Brick back up to his feet and rolled him into the ring.

    Victor dropped him clumsily to the mat with a Pumphandle Slam, but as he made the cover Brick's shoulder flew up like it was in hot coals. Victor stomped at Brick himself, targeting the chest and collar bone. When he was moved away by the referee, Brick found the strength to get back up again. He was met with a Twisting Clothesline and another pin. Still Brick broke the cover before the count of one. Victor ran his hands through his own hair in confusion. Brick slapped Victor across the cheek in defiance. The Mauler yanked Brick by the skull and headbutted him until the referee intervened. Mason's forehead started to show red.

    Moscow's Mauler walked away from his opponent and placed his hands on his hips. Taking a breather, he examined the older superstar with an ineffable curiosity.

    "Come on, champ! End this now and make your reign official!" cried Fortune.

    Victor signaled for the end by placing his injured hand over his heart and mouthing "Da Sveedanya" silently. The moment Mason got back to his feet Makarov rushed him, spun around - Mason with a German Suplex! He wouldn't release his hold, rolling back to his feet and planted the megastar with another German Suplex! Again he kept him in his grip, rolling a final time and then releasing Makarov into a launched German Suplex. Victor fell lifelessly out of the ring and Mason thumped his chest in a frenzy. The Rope Break TV crowd voiced their approval for the display of perseverance.

    Freddie Fortune hurried to his fallen client, sharing words of encouragement with the fistfighter. Inside the ring, Mason took his headband off and slung it at Freddie Fortune. Fortune hopped up on the ring apron to get in the wrestler's face. The referee argued with Freddie until Freddie spat in his face. Freddie Fortune was ejected from ringside! Amidst the confusion, Victor slid back into the ring and gave Mason a Running Shoulder Block. With his opponent trying to recover, Makarov went to a corner post and stomped maddeningly at the canvas. The crowd clapped in time to Makarov's setup to Mother Russia!

    Brick pulled himself back up, and the Superkick landed!!!

    Victor plunged to the mat, barely hooking the leg for the cover...



    Click for Spoiler:

    Brick kicked out! Makarov sat up in utter dismay as his finisher didn't end the fight. Victor rolled away from his opponent, trying once again to gather his thoughts.

    Mason was already getting himself together when Victor went on the assault - HEADBUTT! HEADBUTT! TWISTING CLOTHESLINE! connected to bring Brick to his knees. Victor grabbed a leg for an Ankle Lock, but was quickly overpowered via Mason rolling onto his backside and kicking at Victor's grip. Makarov held his hands close to his chest.

    The carny worker gathered Victor into his arms and hurled him at the head of a turnbuckle - Snake Eyes! Now donning a crimson mask, Brick ran the ropes and clipped Makarov with a clothesline. He dropped the elbow and made the cover, but only got "Two!". Brick pulled his adversary up, Irish Whipped him into the ropes, and was met with a Flying Headbutt! Both men crashed to the mat blindly.

    The referee began the Ten Count.



    Click for Spoiler:

    The arena cheered at the familiar theme music, but exploded when they saw the man stroll through the curtains. Ramparte eyed the fans, and gave his cane a twirl before walking down the runway.

    The longest reigning tag team champion came to a halt at the wreckage in front of him. Both men appeared to be out cold. He tsked and slid into the ring. The referee stared daggers at him, telling him to leave at once. He was met with a can across his temple. The audience turned on him in that moment, and he laughed. Ramparte breathed in the spectacle of Victor and Brick's heads flushed red from constant use. The Recluse hung his cane on the ropes and helped Brick up to his feet...just to spit his Black Ink into the elderly's face! Brick clawed at his own eyes and dropped to a fetal position.

    Ramparte stared at Makarov. The Mauler of Moscow gazed up at him, trying to say words his cut-out tongue wouldn't allow. Ramparte nodded, and picked him up. He planted the Russian between his legs and hooked his arms over Victor's back. Ramparte executed the Denouement!!! Vicious Pedigree left the rival glued to the mat as Ramparte gathered his cane and slipped out of the ring.

    The Recluse spotted the Worlds Break Championship at the commentary table, making a note to point at it with his cane.

    He looked back at the carnage in the ring, and licked his lips.

    "I'm back," he said before leaving the arena.

    Quick Results

    Match thrown out as a result of Ramparte interfering.

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