Millennium XXVII: All Aboard The Murder Train

We cut backstage and see Chloe Collins walking towards a door marked "Trainer". She swings it open, and inside, sitting on a table is Robbie "MF" Bourbon. The straps to his singlet are lowered around his waist as a man with blue latex gloves wraps his ribs with tape. Robbie looks up at the camera, then at Chloe, to whom he forces a quick smile.

Chloe Collins:
Robbie, after what happened earlier tonight, can we have a word?

The trainer finishes up, looks at Robbie, and nods. Robbie winces as he pulls one strap over his massive right shoulder. He hops off the table, actually taking up more camera space now standing on his own two feet. He looks at Chloe, then at the camera.

Robbie "MF" Bourbon:
A word? A fucking word? Huh, how do I boil this all down to just one?

Robbie winces as he puts the other strap up.

Robbie "MF" Bourbon:
How about 'insecurity'? Like how Dusty went out there and showed the whole fucking world that he's really just an insecure piece of shit who's all about himself? I was all about giving the people, those people in the crowd, the people of Oklahoma City a show. I was all about helping Dusty put a twinkle in the eye and a smile on the face of everyone watching because he was home. I put on a song and dance, a ton of fun, for the people, and he sees it as an opportunity to fulfill a need to take a cheap shot. Cheap shots come from the fearful, from scavengers, from the cowardly little shits who can't fucking stand up to someone their own God damned size. Ooh, ah, the Murder Train is coming to town, but uh-oh, some motherfucker, THE Motherfucker, who has been calling him out for weeks is ready to face him, and he just goes into sneak mode because he's afraid of the collision of the immovable object and the unstoppable force?

Robbie rubs his chin.

Robbie "MF" Bourbon:
How about 'thoughtless'? Like how what Dusty did earlier tonight was absolutely and utterly fucking idiotic. Look at me, Dusty, I am standing. I am breathing. You hit me with your best shot, and for what, so I could spend time getting some tape instead of killing time reading a book or signing an autograph or two? Do you know how many bodacious ta-tas I could have been signing instead of hanging around in here? A little tape, some acetaminophen, and guess what, this here creation of scratch and spare parts is still kicking, and I still get your stupid ass in the middle of that ring, and I don't give two flying fucks if it's yours I will rip it apart and reshape it in MY image. All you did out there is prove to the world you are last year's model, that I am the true Big Bad Big Bad of Big Bads, the Superheavyweight Superior. I have battled through Hell to the ranks of Millennium Wrestling, I've been in battles with monsters, demons, devils, and creatures so fucked up your nightmares would have nightmares about them. You think one little Dusty Finish is going to shut me up, shut me down, and put me out? Well, shit, whoops! Looks like you already got me with the best you got, and the best you got wasn't fucking good enough. Ashes to ashes, Dusty to dust, your silly ass is set to bust, I'm the Wednesday Night Wrecker come to send you to the scrapyard to rust! You pulled a Pearl Harbor and broke my trust, I'm dropping bombs like Nagasaki shaking the Earth's crust.

Robbie grimaces as his reaches up with his right hand and holds his ribcage.

Robbie "MF" Bourbon:
Nah, Miss Collins, I reckon if I'm gonna fight for a word, my word is really fucking simple. 'Watch'. When I get my hands on Douglas, watch. When I throw him around like a fucking helium stuffed teddy bear, watch. When I deliver THE promised end, THE worldbreaker, the one, the only RobbieBomb to his big nasty body frame, and he needs to go to the hospital, watch. At that point, it's just three seconds away and the people see a real man stand up and get his hand raised. Now, ma'am...

Robbie looks at Chloe.

Robbie "MF" Bourbon:
...if'n you'll excuse me, I've got a double wide ass to whoop.

Robbie winks at Chloe, who moves aside. Robbie walks out of the trainer's room.

Just another regular day. Interviews, promo spots, catching all the action that came before the bell rang, that was the workday of a cameraman working in wrestling. And for our anonymous cameraman, today was the busiest. But for our anonymous cameraman, there was one part of this day that he could never be sure when it would come. There were always surprises, things that have to rush to be caught, but this was of a...stranger nature.

We first see a corridor inside of the Chesapeake Energy Arena, where our cameraman stands around, waiting. Nothing moves, nothing is heard, until finally his own voice speaks out from behind the camera.

Cameraman:
Uh...hello? Hello!

Silence.

Cameraman:
Uh. I have some free time right now, so if you and her would like to use it, I can shoot that real quick!

There is no immediate response, and the cameraman lets out a sigh, but it is swallowed as another voice speaks from behind him.

Homare Kato:
Now you’re volunteering your free moments for us? That is truly above and beyond, please know just how deeply my appreciation runs.

The view blurs as the cameraman turns to face Homare Kato, that usual hard-to-read smile on his face.

Homare Kato:
Though just as deep as that appreciation is the deepness of my disappointment, as I have to say we must speed things up on this night.

From behind Kato steps Rie. She’s already in her ring gear instead of the haori she typically wore at times like this. As explanation she spoke a quick sentence of Japanese, and Kato explained.

Homare Kato:
She informed you that she’s already finished her usual rituals, preparing for the match ahead and speaking to the departed that stand around us even now. Because while showing that is always something she enjoys, sharing her beliefs and what they require of her, we do not have time for that today.

She spoke just a few words.

Homare Kato:
“They didn’t book me.” Yes, for the first time since joining Millennium, Rie had to sit on the sidelines while others got to engage in her passion of wrestling. While there are many explanations for such, that I have explained to her, like the size of this roster, there is only one answer that makes sense in her head.

He said something to her in their native language, a question, and she spoke another scant few words.

Homare Kato:
“That match…” To her eyes, all she can see as an explanation is that she did not stop Chris Constantine Jr. from making a disrespectful sham of a match, that is why she was not booked. Because she didn’t stop him, and he got the win in such a way, that is why she was not viewed as worthy of being booked the next week. That is ridiculous, of course. But...that is her belief. And she is resolute in all her beliefs.

He pauses a moment, one hand reaching up and scratching absentmindedly at his cheek.

Homare Kato:
Not that I disagree with her feelings on that match, of course. Constantine did make it into a sham, but given what others have done in this company I don’t believe that to be the reason. Nothing but circumstance who’s timing connects in her head.

She seems to be unaware of his analysis of her thoughts, just staring ahead at the camera with a determined look on her face.

Homare Kato:
And combined with the match this week, and who is there...she was ready to start her rituals early so this match could commence.

He pauses again, then speaks out two names.

Homare Kato:
Knox. And Heathen Jones.

A bit of a frown develops on her face at that second name. But when she starts to speak, at length, it is evidently first about Knox, as she repeats his name a few times.

Homare Kato:
“Knox. Who seems able to control any broadcast he wants, speaking in images and coded text, all wrapped in a nihilism wrapper. Impressive from the moment he stepped into Millennium, Knox has made his existence undeniable to all. And his ability with a chair in hand. That is what is dangerous most, I think. That it seems impossible to read what goes on in his head, what his next move is. 0s and 1s that we can’t understand. But I cannot let that stop me, Knox. The path I find myself on is an ugly one, leading towards a fade into nothingness in the world of wrestling. Code, chairs, I can’t let any of that stop me now. I have to find the way through, and find a way to shut your system down. I can’t slip anymore.”

With Kato finished, Rie takes a moment still to begin again, perhaps searching for the words. First, all she says is a name.

Rie Shimizu:
Heathen Jones.

And finally she began to speak, at length, again, all about the man she faced in her debut match in Millennium.

Homare Kato:
“I have waited for this day. I knew it would come, that we would be put in the same ring again, and I would have a chance to ease the stain on my person. My debut match was with you, I felt prepared. I spoke about how I knew the kind of man you were, how calling yourself a Heathen was nothing but a cover, an excuse for the cruelness in your heart, that you’d drag a woman around on a chain and force her to watch what you do. I made claims that I would stop you from gaining that important first win, that I would be blessed by the departed in that goal.”

A pause, and a few disappointed words.

Homare Kato:
“I overestimated myself. More than that, I demanded too much of the departed.”

And more at length.

Homare Kato:
“I presumed from the start that I would receive a blessing, that extra push in that match. And when I went out there, I was beaten. Like a ragdoll, like a trainee on her first day, I was torn apart. I was finished, and it was only because of your enemy that I was spared the worst of it, and even given a win I would rather lacerate myself than accept. In the time since that match, though, I have learned much. About myself, what I am capable of. I do not make wild claims about what I will do, what the departed will grant, none of that. I will go out there, against you and against Knox, and I will do all I can. Whether that is enough...depends on me.”

Another pause before she went on.

Homare Kato:
“Two shows ago was another stain on my person. A match that was turned into a circus act by one man, and I was not able to stop him from taking victory. Kato can have what he believes about it, but I know it is a stain. I have dreams, goals...and I can’t keep failing at every other turn if I wish to see them blossom into reality. I have to find my way forward.”

She gives a quick bow to the camera, before taking a step back, clearly intending to be done, looking to Kato to end things. He smiles to her before looking to the camera.

Homare Kato:
Tonight will be quite the sight, I think. Two men like Knox and Heathen Jones, powerful and willing to cause harm beyond what is required to get what they wish, whatever that may be in those minds of theirs. And Rie, seeking her way forward. Yes, I do believe this will be quite the challenge for her. But it is time she started to flourish in the face of challenge.

He starts to take a step back, likely to do his traditional ending words, but he pauses. That smile grows a bit.

Homare Kato:
Though, speaking of that man that turned it all into a circus act...Chris Constantine Jr.

One hand comes up and he leans his head into his palm.

Homare Kato:
It was interesting, wasn’t it. He was filled with insults, but the moment Rie had words back he seemed to have no more. She asked him what was there to be jealous of, and he had no response. Do you wonder why that is? I think he doesn’t wonder. I think he knows why. Even he is aware of the truth in his heart, the one that came when he heard Rie’s words.

He leaned forward, his face taking up most of the frame as he spoke.

Homare Kato:
Fear of the truth.

And he leaned back, giving a shrug.

Homare Kato:
He knows the truth of those words she said, and knows there is no denial. It is too bad for him that those words will only continue and increase as the days go on, hm? From her and from others, as they realize the truth of them.

And with that thought done, just a hint of a smirk on Kato’s face at it, he finally steps back, raising one arm.

Homare Kato:
So, as ever, we hope that all of you that are worthy...will know on this night the favor of the departed.

And this time with only a small drop of his arm, the lights go out, leaving everything in darkness once again.

The one they call simply Knox--a silent man outside of his curious Twitter posts--has been seen on Millennium though never has he spoken. He is known for his random hacks into the Millennium feed where he has cut the broadcast multiple times to a logo--a song--or just static. Upon being outed and introduced to the roster--Knox has only made vague posts seeking to crush or destroy what he refers to as the h u m a n s.

Now, unlike his usual motive, he sits in a director’s chair and stares blankly at the backstage camera. At his side, with her bleached blonde hair cut asymmetrically, dressed as a typical twenty-something co-ed with a fondness for fashion and pop stardom--is the woman that few know outside of the timeline feed. She calls herself his personal translator. The duo share a glance at one another and then Knox continues to stare, stoic, lifeless--into the feed. His sister reads from a piece of paper a poem.

Tyler Bennett:
'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare

"You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair."

As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose

Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,

And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark;

But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,

His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,

How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:

The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,

While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.

When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,

Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon;

While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,

And concluded the banquet by ---

After the poem is finished, Tyler folds the paper and slips it into the back pocket of her pants. Knox stands slowly and for the first time ever, addresses the Millennium audience and crew.

Knox:
--putting you out of your pathetic misery now.

The feed cuts only after Knox and Tyler smirk into the fading scene.

An eerie mist flows throughout the air, just as “Six Days of Silence” by Cripple Mr Onion starts to play. For the second time tonight, The Misery makes his way out onto the ramp. There’s a mysterious woman to his left, wearing a skin-tight silver dress and a bizarre mask covering the right side of her face resembling a mannequin. Together, they make their way to the ring in creepy fashion, the woman eyeballing and taunting female members of the audience the entire way down.

The Misery slides into the ring, as the woman climbs the steel steps and enters underneath the top rope. The Misery strides over to the ropes nearest the announce table and calls for a mic, his demands met almost instantly. He raises the microphone to his covered lips as the woman latches herself onto his arm with a toothy grin.

The Misery:
Now, The Misery knows what you are all waiting for. You’re on the edge of your seats… you’re wondering just what The Misery wants with the Uncanny Socialites… you’re wondering just why The Misery did not call them out to the ring after his match earlier… but you are also wondering just who this incredibly desirable woman beside him is.

The woman giggles, licking her lips and sending a maniacal wink towards the camera, the type of wink a serial killer would give their victim before beheading.

The Misery:
You see, The Misery had no choice but to leave the ring after his match so that he could meet this woman at the gates, to vouch for her to Millennium security that she is with him. She was running late to the show because The Misery had her at the supermarket picking up his beloved raw meats for later consumption.

The camera aims at a few fans in the audience, bewildered by The Misery’s love for raw meats.

The Misery:
But without further adieu, The Misery would like to introduce you all to his new manager, partner in crime and the new Millennium Wrestling sex appeal… The Manic. Would you like to say a few words?

The Misery holds up a microphone to The Manic’s lips.

The Manic:
First of all The Manic would just like to say… ladies, stay the hell away from this piece of perfection. He’s The Manic’s tall, dark and handsome. If you so much as look at him the wrong way, like you’re undressing him with your eyes… then The Manic will pounce on you like a freakin’ lion and scratch out the pupil from your iris.

Audience members, namely female, are confused.

The Manic:
Second of all…

The Manic pauses.

The Manic:
Well, there is no second of all. You’ve been warned.

The Misery pulls back the microphone and resumes talking.

The Misery:
Luckily for The Manic here, The Misery has no interest in other women. At least not in a romantic, and/or sexual nature. However, there are the two aforementioned women that The Misery is interested in seeking answers from… so without wasting anymore time… why don’t you two make your presence known?

The Misery and The Manic turn their attention to the ramp as “Fake My Own Death” by Sum 41 begins to play. Amid a roar of cheers from the fans, Rebecca Saint and Kelsey Spencer make their way onto the stage. Their theme fades out to silence as Rebecca raises a microphone to speak.

Rebecca Saint:
Aww would you look at this… How cute. You brought your girlfriend in to work with you! Did not realise that joke I made last week about you secretly being in love with my buddy here would hit so close to home. Listen… ‘The Manic’, was it? Put those claws away honey, no-one here is after your man.

Rebecca’s words drip with snark as she stands at ringside for a moment to allow her partner to climb the stairs to the ring. Kelsey cautiously steps between the ropes, keeping a watchful eye on both of them. While she shows subtle hints of being unnerved in their presence, she does her best to mask it.

Rebecca Saint:
There is one thing, however, that Kelsey and myself, as well as many of these great fans, would like from The Misery… And that is an explanation.

Rebecca appears overly smug and arrogant as she climbs into the ring, taking her place by her buddy’s side opposite The Manic and The Misery. Kelsey’s mind looks to be at ease just a little more, knowing that her best friend is right by her side. Although, as Rebecca stares them down she appears to be growing agitated and impatient.

Rebecca Saint:
Why don't you tell us who you are, why you are here in Millennium and perhaps most importantly… What the hell do you want with the two of us?

The Misery:
The Misery knows quite a fair bit about you, Ms Saint… or is that “Miss”?

Rebecca Saint:
You are stalling and I am running out of patience… What do you know? That I flunked history in high school? That I had sex and called it a cookie once? You are going to have to dig much deeper than that.

Kelsey gulps as she takes a step to the side, fearing that this could turn ugly any moment. She’s seen her buddy get in a mood like this once or twice before, and couple that with how unpredictable The Misery is, things could go south in a hurry. She glances between Rebecca and The Misery, also keeping The Manic in her peripherals.

The Misery:
H-had sex and called it a cookie once?

The Misery and The Manic both let out a chortle, that echoes throughout the surrounding vicinity. Rebecca groans at the reaction, if only because she has managed to prolong this encounter. After some time, they both calm down and collect their bearings.

The Misery:
No, Rebecca. The Misery had no idea about that, though he does thank you for the comedic relief. The Misery knows a lot about you, but he does not know that much. However, something The Misery knows very much about you are the certain ties you once had to the man he is searching for.

The Misery turns his attention to Kelsey.

The Misery:
You see, at first The Misery did not believe that this man worked here in Millennium… but it is quite possible he was wrong. Over the last few weeks, The Misery has been keeping a watchful eye… throughout the locker room, and on social media. So, it is quite possible that The Misery has found who he is looking for… though it seems he has changed drastically in terms of aesthetics. The Misery almost did not recognize him. So to cut to the chase you are after, Rebecca… The Misery wants confirmation from the two of you. Is he the man The Misery has been searching for? And do not ask who… because The Misery knows that in your heart… you know exactly who it is he is talking about.

Kelsey looks to the canvas in a moment of thought. She helps herself to the microphone Rebecca’s holding to make her response.

Kelsey Spencer:
I dunno if I know for sure who you’re talking about… but, if it’s who I think it is… I think that’s something you guys should discuss with each other. I dunno who you are, or what kinda history you have with Mister Seth, but… there’s still a lo--

The Misery:
Mister Seth? As in that geriatric fool Seth Iser?! HA!

Rebecca lets out a low grumble and mouths “Watch it…” off mic. The Misery removes himself from The Manic’s grasp and begins pacing backwards and forwards in the ring. A puzzled Kelsey watches on, instinctively taking a step back, unsure of what he might do.

The Misery:
Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey… what happened to you? When The Misery first met you, you were far more intelligent than this… sure, you had… personality… but you weren’t so dimwitted.

The Misery stops, and turns himself to both of the Uncanny Socialites.

The Misery:
The Misery is not talking about Seth Iser… he is talking about the man who Rebecca once knelt for when he said kneel… the same man The Misery believes it is you who now kneels for him when asked. Now do the two of you understand?

Kelsey stands by, a little dumbfounded, her tics acting up while her mind races. Meanwhile the vein on Rebecca’s forehead looks as though it could burst at any moment. She hisses through gritted teeth and snatches the microphone back from Kelsey’s Tourettes-twitching hand.

Rebecca Saint:
I have had enough of this nonsense! And I am tired of your games! I say since we are standing here in this ring... and there are two of us and two of you… Why don’t we give these fine Oklahoma fans something to talk about, hmm?

The fans cheer as Rebecca angrily tosses the microphone to the mat and removes her hoodie, indicating that she is prepared to throw hands. Kelsey appears reluctant at first, but her loyalty drives her to stand at the ready by her tag team partner’s side. The Manic looks over at The Misery in amusement, and one can only assume that The Misery would have a mirrored expression underneath his mask. The Misery stomps over to the ring corner, and slams his head multiple times against the turnbuckle. He spins around and sprints over to the Uncanny Socialites, as if he’s about to attack… but he halts, brings the mic to his mouth.

The Misery:
Bickerton…

The Misery drops the mic and holds his hand out for The Manic who complies. Kelsey’s eyes become saucers as she looks over to her partner in stunned silence. The colour drains from Rebecca’s face almost immediately as soon as that name is uttered… One she has not heard in quite some time. She watches the two of them with a mile long stare as together they exit the ring and make way up the ramp.

Some could have been discussing the trio's match that just happened while a few excited over the upcoming pay-per-view event in Texas, all of them cheered in anticipation of what was to come. The Oklahoma City crowd was loud and rowdy. Then, that head-ringing, metal-on-metal, bang, silenced them. The second was just as loud, the third was sooner and fourth, sooner than that. Just as quickly as the dragging chain relentlessly pounded from the speakers, there was ear-piercing silence. Momentarily, any way, because then, the Godless Heathen from the South stepped out from behind the curtain. Thunderous disappointment with a downpour of garbage.

There was no fire, no music and no fanfare, just Heathen Jones. He simply stood at the top of the ramp; their jeers didn't phase him and he ducked the empty cartons and cups. He would have likely spat his tobacco, but it was a microphone in his right hand instead of his dip jar.

Heathen Jones:
Funny, ain't it…

Heathen smirked, crooking his grin, with a twinkle in his beady black eyes.

Heathen Jones:
...seems duh-Old Man be all mucked an`mired up in some troubles. Seems, things ain't all up an`up on the home front, y'all know. Meh assumin’ y'all read. Maybe. And, maybe y'all mighta read somewhere dat Saul done went an`told meh, “No.”

He twisted his lip into about a half-smile and his right brow went up; it took him some doing, but he wrangled his emotions.

Heathen Jones:
See, all Lonestar did last week wit'his lil’ act was show meh somethin’ he knew he could protect. Come out here wit'dat belt, knowin’ all along that he had nothin’ tuh-worry `bout. Well, meh can't get what meh want, ya ain't gettin’ what ya want either Lonestar.

Heathen's knuckles are white, his fingers purple, his grip on the chain tight.

Heathen Jones:
Like the old man said, “No.” That's no title, no… chain…!

A demented grin in a maniacal glower, but his tone absolute and serious.

Heathen Jones:
Ya gotta lil’ thing for her, don'tcha? Maybe, it's how she wrap around ya just right.

He works the chain around his arm, hand and fingers. The large links make it awkward, but he's getting his point across.

Heathen Jones:
Maybe, it's that sound she makes…

He raises the loose end of the chain and then drops it to the metal grating of the stage with a clamor.

Heathen Jones:
...yeah, bet that's it.

The chain dangles from his left hand and then trails off behind the curtain.

Heathen Jones:
She's mine!

And, he yanked, with all of his might, for nothing. Hickey was not jerked through the curtain. The other end didn't even come rattling through. And then, he heard them.

“LET! HER! GO!”

He had heard it before, nearly everywhere they had worked. This was different, there was a jingle to it. Literally. Because in the front row, four young women held a chain high over their heads as they chanted.

With every bit of power he had, Heathen ripped against the chain. Again, nothing. Nothing but absolute frustration.

Not that he let it show, biting the inside of his lip with his nose pinched up and his forehead wrinkled, he stood there against the entire crowd. Led by the four-woman chain gang in the front row, everyone in attendance chanted and booed.

He wasn't going to turn around to collect her, he wasn't going to put his back to the ring at all; he fully intended on jerking her through the curtain and dragging her to the ring for his match.

So, he wound up a third time and, as he went to cut the slack, Heathen came off of his feet and flew backward. He had been yanked from behind the curtain and he crashed down hard on the back of his head, neck and shoulders. His hat fell from his head, rolled on the brim and fell just out of arm's reach. Furious! He rolled to his hands and knees reaching out for his hat and fell straight to his face. His planted left arm jerked out from under him as he ate the steel.

The slack in the chain pulled taunt and the millennials in the crowd started cheering. Then, an astronomical pop as the Lonestar stepped through the curtain. Alan Envy had the other end of Heathen's chain wrapped around his forearm as he closed the distance. Heathen's eyes popped from his skull and he immediately tried to free himself from the chain, but Envy jerked the noose-like knot tighter.

Heathen clawed, kicked and struggled to slide away as Envy stepped closer. Each step, Envy pulled the chain through his fist until he was standing over Heathen. Just inches from Heathen's left hand, Envy planted his cowboy boot down across the chain. Heathen was trapped as Envy popped him in the mouth, straight left cross. “Now, you're comin’ with me!” Envy shouted, binding the chain up tight.

Much like Hickey, Heathen was dragged all the way down the ramp. When the chain went taunt, Envy jerked Heathen forward. Envy was not going to be stopped, Heathen fell and stumbled over his feet and crawled on his hands and knees to keep up. At ringside, Envy picked Heathen up and ran him hard into the ring steps. He didn't go collect his foe; Envy pulled Heathen back to him, link by link. Envy picked him back up and bounced his face off of the apron. Then, using the chain, Envy hoisted Heathen up onto the apron and shoved him in under the bottom rope. Envy slid in plank and pushed himself straight to his feet. Dragging Heathen across the ring, the crowd cheering his every step, Envy grabbed a microphone.

Alan Envy:
Feels helpless don't cha Loser-ana. But I thought you liked people feeling helpless. Or is it just when you make them feel helpless.

Envy kept Heathen down, never allowing him to plant his weight before pulling that left hand loose. Envy toyed with him.

Alan Envy:
You know...this is kind of fun. Controlling someone like this...

Envy provokes Heathen, allowing him to finally stand only to be jerked forward and dropped. Envy nearly took his head off with a Lonestar Lariato.

Alan Envy:
You see Heathen. I just called your bluff. For the first time in your life you are the one that feels like Hickey, and I know you can't stand that. Show the world the man you think you are and fight me in Texas. Come defend your so called honor hooked up to this chain with me, or keep refusing and show the entire fucking wrestling world what a good damn coward you are!!

Envy dropped the microphone on Heathen's chest, there was feedback until the truck turned it off. Envy unhooked his wrist from the chain and turned to make his exit. Stepping through the ropes, he hesitated; Heathen sat up in the background. Envy went back in the ring, hooking Heathen's head and muscling him to his feet. The entire crowd popped as Envy spiked Heathen's head into the mat with the Envious Demise.

Envy's point had jarred the ring and sent the red-hot crowd into a frenzy. With Heathen laid out, Envy stood there a moment, appreciating the support. They cheered him as he made his exit; besides, his rival there has a match. May as well leave him to it.

The cameras cut backstage to the General Manager's office, where we see Gianluigi Vaccaro sat behind his desk, looking at something on a tablet. His attention his soon drawn elsewhere though, when there is a knock at the door.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
Come in.

As Gian puts down the tablet, the door to his office opens, and in walks Selina Metzger. Gian doesn’t seem too surprised to see the German powerhouse stepping in his office; she had been involved in quite a few controversial episodes in the past few weeks, such as the Lockdown Championship match, and the attack she suffered at the hands of Knox before their match two weeks ago. This visit is something he was definitely expecting.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
Selina. Please, have a seat.

He says standing up and offering her a handshake, indicating a chair in front of his desk with his left hand. After shaking Gian’s hand, Selina takes the proffered seat.

Selina Metzger:
I think you can probably guess why I'm here.

He nods, sitting back on his chair.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
Knox, I presume.

Selina responds with a nod of her own.

Selina Metzger:
I did consider taking matters into my own hands, by reciprocating what he did to me two weeks ago, but instead I decided to exercise some restraint, and come and speak to you about it. I want a chance to get some retribution.

It only takes him a quick look in her eyes to see that she won’t take a no for an answer.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
You’re asking me for a match against someone who already proved in more than one occasion to be more than willing to take the… extreme way to handle his business? I just want to remind you next week is the last show before the PPV.

Selina Metzger:
I know what next week is. And I know full well what he has done. But you can't possibly expect me to get attacked with a chair, be cut open, and then not do anything about it. Give me a match next week with Knox.

She leans forward in her chair.

Selina Metzger:
And make it no DQ.

A half-smile then appears on her face. Gian seems taken aback by her request, leaning back against his chair and taking a moment for himself to think.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
A no DQ match. Against the number one contender for the Empire Extreme Championship. One week before the pay-per-view.

He repeats slowly.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
That’s bold, I like it. And I hope you know what you’re doing, Selina.

The half-smile on Selina's face becomes a full-blown smirk.

Selina Metzger:
Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.

She then runs her left hand through her hair.

Selina Metzger:
Knox isn't the only person that I wanted to talk to you about though.

This time is Gian’s turn to smile.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
I thought so. The way Luna retained at Imperium, it might not be honorable, or the kind of attitude you would expect from a champion… But it was within the rules. Her rules.

There is a sigh from Selina. She knows what Gian said is correct, but that is not going to stop her from fighting her corner.

Selina Metzger:
Right. I know that. But we've been opponents three times, and I've pinned her twice, whereas the best she has been able to manage is a time limit draw. She might not think I deserve another opportunity to try to take her title from her, but I do. Please, just give me one more match with her.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
You make a good point. She never beat you.

A small pause.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
At Deep In The Heart in San Antonio, you will have your shot at the Lockdown Championship. The last one, make it count.

Selina Metzger:
I will. I won't need another shot. Luna is the one that's living on borrowed time, not me.

The General Manager nods, looking back at Selina.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
I will inform Luna. She will probably complain but…

He stands up, offering another handshake to seal the deal.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
… The match is going to happen nonetheless.

Selina gets up from her chair.

Selina Metzger:
Good.

She smiles courteously, as she shakes Gian's hand.

Selina Metzger:
Thank you.

He smiles back.

Gianluigi Vaccaro:
Anytime, Selina.

He then sits back at his desk, picking up his work from where he left as Selina leaves the office. The camera cuts to the next segment.

The scene cuts backstage to Corey Grimes in his locker room, he just finished up preparing for his upcoming match with Megan Rydell when he glances up at the camera.

Corey Grimes:
Tonight, I go up against the returning Megan Rydell, who hasn’t competed in a couple of months. Does that mean I think it will be easy?

Corey chuckles and shakes his head.

Corey Grimes:
Absolutely not. Megan Rydell is someone who will always be ready when she goes out to that ring and I know that I have my work cut out for me, even more so than I had it cut out for me last week. But the thing is, Meg and I both want the same thing. We both want to go out there and leave our mark. We both want to prove that we are two of the best signings this company has seen in quite some time but only one of us can do that tonight and I’m not going to let Meg get one over on me.

Corey nods his head confidently.

Corey Grimes:
Last week, I showed that I was ready to make my return and that I didn’t lose a step but some of you still have questions about what I have to offer. Even Megan has questions about it, as she thinks that my divorce is still affecting where my head is at. But nobody knows for sure where my head is except for me…

He steps forward and looks into the camera with a grin as he taps his index finger on his temple.

Corey Grimes: 
And I know that my head is in the right place. It’s why I took that break, it’s why I gave myself the chance to gather myself and figure out who I am again. But of course, there will be questions and I’ll continually have to shut them down, over and over again and guess what? I will keep on shutting them down. I will keep on proving the doubters wrong and showing that I’m one of the best to do it in wrestling. Don’t believe me? Then watch what happens between Megan and I tonight when I beat her for that three count. You can count on that.

Corey nods and walks off and the scene cuts away.

Backstage we see the star on Luna’s dressing room sparkling with a little light design around the border and a namebar with a fuzzy blue design around it reading “Lockdown Champion”.

Luna Smith:
WHAAAATTT?

The door then opens to see a smallish member of the Millennium Wrestling staff hurled out of the room. His shirt reads on the back “Luna’s PA” as he gets back up to see a furious Luna who has her hair full of volume but wearing the black satin mini dress and hadn’t yet got ready for her champion vs champion match.

Luna’s PA:
I’m only saying what I’ve been told. Gian said to inform you that you’re

Before Luna points at him with a venomous look at him. Her nostrils flaring and her other hand tightly balled into a hist.

Luna Smith:
Don’t you say it.

But Luna’s PA mutters

Luna’s PA:
Defending it against Selina.

Luna then takes a calming breath. Her hand goes up and slowly descends as she tries to physically show herself taking control of her emotions.

Luna Smith:
I’ve told this company that I’m looking for STAR competitors. I’ve FINALLY got one in the Millennium Champion and now you’re telling me I’ve got to defend my title at Deep In The Heart?

He’s about to say something before Luna grasps the air as if she was grabbing his mouth.

Luna Smith:
No. Get your phone out and start typing this message to Gian.

Luna says as her PA does so and Luna begins to pace around dictating a message.

Luna Smith:
Gian. Would you mind explaining to me why I’m not even consulted about who I want to face? You’re managing a lot of these divisions while I’m the top figure of the Lockdown Division...no, change that...I’m the Star of the Lockdown Division. I know who’s worthy of 15 minutes of my time and who isn’t. Selina...ISN’T. She had her chance, she couldn’t do it, it’s done, it’s OVER I DON’T WANT TO WASTE MY TIME WITH HER!

Luna then does another motion to calm herself down again before continuing, looking briefly at her title.

Luna Smith:
San Antonio deserves to be a better fixture when you have the Star of the Night and the Star who defeated your Millennium Champion, DO NOT waste it with someone who doesn’t deserve it/ Selina doesn’t deserve it. Heathen certainly didn’t deserve it and if there is still time to get my Star thoughts on who, if you’d care to you should contact Holly Wakesfield to set up a dinner. Dress cute.

Then Luna looks over at her appointed PA.

Luna Smith:
Send. Then go find me Holly and fetch me my cooling pad because this is giving me a headache.

She begins to rub her temple and the PA darts off to go and find Luna’s new employee.

With a pair of Beats headphones on, Britt Kane was walking around the belly of the arena tonight, a half smile on her face as she was half ready for her match later on the night against Christina Rose Crystal Hilton Whatever Fucking Name This Week. Britt waved and smiled completely a few workers before getting to a door that lead to one of the locker rooms. She entered and looked around for someone who wasn’t there. Britt takes a moment and spies a note on her bag. She naturally grabs it and gives it a read.

“Dear Britty come play with me.
Come play with Saki.
It’ll be fun you see
Come play with me.”

Britt simple shook her head and crumpled the paper before tossing it to the floor. She began to go back through her back to pull out elbow pads and her kickpads in somewhat of a disbelief that a note like that was left.

SAKI:
But Britty why did you do this?
Do you find my request so easy to dismiss?

The voice came from behind Britt, where out of nowhere Saki was standing behind her with a smile on her face. Head cocked to the side eerily. Britt slowly turned to face the pint sized psycho.

BRITT KANE:
I know how you play with people. Not really my cup of tea to stab folks and call it professional wrestling, Saki. Go ahead and do what you like, but no thanks.

Britt turned back around and went back to focusing on her bag. Saki’s smile faded and she huffed, apparently being disregarded like this didn’t sit well with the maniac.

SAKI:
Play with me
Britty, Britty
Play with me....

Kane rolls her eyes and turns around once more to face Saki. Annoyance was painted on Britt’s face now as she clearly just wanted to get ready to maim Crystal Hilton Rose tonight.

BRITT KANE:
Sorry, little busy right now. Come back the second Tuesday of next week, please. I have a match against Crystal Rose Hilton or whatever the hell she’s calling herself. Please, go away, thanks.

The Singapore Mauler’s smile is gone completely and she stares daggers at Britt before backing out of the locker room. Britt shakes her head and sits down wondering where that person not named Saki went off to.

Britt dripped with sweat as she walked back into her locker room after her match with Rose a few moments ago. A grabbed a bottle of water and took a drink before sitting down. Something seemed a little off to the second generational wrestler.

Britt Kane:
Cassidy, where the heck do you go off to…?

Sitting in her locker room, playing cards was Cassidy...and Saki. The Singapore born wrestler grinned from ear to ear and waved to Britt.

Saki:
See Britty, now can you see?
I found someone else to play with me.
If not you then I will play with Cassidy!

Britt, obviously not happy about this, throws her water bottle across the room and stands up. Saki barely reacts, smiling and playing with Cassidy.

Britt Kane:
No, no you won’t. Get the heck out here. I know what you are, she doesn’t. Leave.

Saki:
What I am?
Just a misguided lamb
Saki is here to play
Why must you act this way?

Britt, clearly starting to lose her cool, pulls Cassidy up from the chair and puts her behind her. Knowing that Saki has straight up stabbed a bitch has her on edge.

Britt Kane:
Misguided? You STABBED someone, you crazy bish. So please, just leave here. You’re not welcomed here, Saki.

Saki smiles and suddenly slams her fist into the surface they were using to play cards.

Saki:
I would not stab arbitrarily!
Now stop being a cunt and play with me
...I will bleed dear Cassidy.
Like a sanguine jubilee
Blood will rain as far as the eye can see!

Britt yanks Cassidy away with her and flee the room before Saki could make good on any sort of potential threat. Saki doesn’t chase, instead she sits and giggles to herself, slowly walking out of the room and skipping away.

The camera feed cuts backstage and we find Megan Rydell standing in front of a table. On the table, there is a dollhouse, with two parent dolls and a baby doll placed inside of it. Meg looks up at the camera and looks surprised.

Megan Rydell:
Oh! I’m sorry, I was too busy playing house instead of noticing you were there in front of me.

Meg chuckles.

Megan Rydell:
Reminds you of somebody else, doesn’t it? It reminds you all of Corey Grimes. The man who was too busy playing house to focus on himself. Now, we all know he is talented but does he care about wrestling like someone like myself does? Does he sweat and bleed wrestling? Is this his world? No, it’s not. He’s put people in front of him but me? I’ve always put myself and my career in front of everyone. The way Corey is? It shows that he is weak and it shows that he just wants to be loved. He’s fucking pathetic.

Megan scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Megan Rydell:
And tonight? I’m going to show everyone that Corey Grimes is nothing but a fraud. He says he’s moved on, he says that he is ready to start anew, to start fresh but I’ll show you all differently. His head isn’t really in the game. No, no no.

She shakes her head.

Megan Rydell: Corey is as pathetic as it gets and he doesn’t deserve to share the ring with someone of my talents. I’m not only the best Rydell in wrestling but I’m also the best fucking competitor in Millennium Pro, even though I’ve just made me return here to finish off some unfinished business, because that Millennium Championship was robbed from me long ago and now? I’m going to make it mine. But first? First I dispose of the fourth worst Grimes, yes, he’s even worse than that slut Sophie.

Meg grins and shrugs her shoulders.

Megan Rydell:
See you out there, Corey. Try not to fuck up out there like you fucked up your marriage.

Meg smashes the dollhouse before shoving it off the table and she walks away from the scene before it cuts away.

The camera crew finds the Happy Few backstage in their normal way. NEON bears some boxing mitts while SERO punches against them, keeping his rhythm ready for his match against Chris Constantine Jr. When they approach him, SERO motions for June to take care of the interviewer. June comes forward with an awkward look on her face.



SERO stops his shadow boxing, asking NEON to come forward. NEON shoots SERO a nasty glare, mumbling something under her breath in their native language. Context clues gives people the idea that it wasn’t something June wanted to translate. Her reaction to it, something derived from shock, tells the story for the viewers.



NEON then leaves past the crew, opting to get away before SERO tries to get her to do something else. SERO tries to harken her back with a laugh on his breath, but it seems to fail and his sibling leaves the area. SERO then stands in the background for a second before June turns her head to face him.



SERO shrugs and comes forward.



SERO brushes past the camera operators on his way to the ring. June doesn’t conclude the interview, chasing after SERO with a worried tone in her voice.

We cut backstage as Chris Constantine and Olivia Constantine stand in front of a Millennium backdrop. Chris is all smiles as Olivia rubs his back and helps him get loose for his upcoming match. With all the confidence in the world, Chris starts to speak.

Chris Constantine:
Did you miss me Millennium? I know so many of you were heartbroken when it was announced that I wasn’t on last weeks card. But don’t worry, I did a segment for you all just so you could see my pretty face. Now tonight I face Zero in singles competition and.....

Chris is interrupted when Olivia Constantine slaps Chris on the shoulder and speaks to him.

Olivia Constantine:
Its Sero Chris, not Zero.

Chris is confused as he looks away from the camera to look at his wife.

Chris Constantine:
Is that Japanese for Zero?

Olivia shrugs her shoulders.

Chris Constantine:
Well it doesn’t matter because Sero is a Zero and there’s zero chance he’s winning tonight. By the time I get finished with him, he’ll be flying back to Japan to whatever Dojo he crawled out of so he can go be a Young Boy again. And I’ll be laughing my ass off the entire 12 hours it takes you to get there.

Chris is about to walk off screen, but stops and looks into the camera one last time.

Chris Constantine:
Oh....and Rie Shimizu. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you. All you had to do was shut your mouth and walk away. But I’ve remembered your name, and that’s not good for you. I’ll be seeing you soon, darlin.

The grin on Chris’s face soon goes away as he finally walks off the stage.

Christopher Kane is standing backstage and has a disgusted look on his face. He goes to open his mouth and no words come out, not yet. Only his look changes to frustration.

Christopher Kane:
Tonight, Tiffany Tompkins, the Cloud Gate Champion. An all around badass at someone her size. Nothing but the utmost respect for Tompkins. I’ll respect anyone who is able to beat some respect into a family member of mine like she did a while back. You’ll wear that Cloud Gate Championship with the pride it deserves. Hell, you’ve already done a great job of going around with that title, representing our company well.

He gives Tiffany a round of applause and not in the sarcastic manner that most people do when talking about such things.

Christopher Kane:
I mean, when you think about it, she’s our top champion right now. I know the other day I asked who the Millennium Champion once because I literally forgot who it was. When the Cloud Gate Champions have outshined the Millennium Champion, I think that’s a little bit of a problem. GvB laughed at me when I brought up that someday I will be the Millennium Champion, but hey, at least you’d have a champion that promotes and gives a shit about this company unlike Nessa Wall.

A simple shrug follows.

Christopher Kane:
People can mock me, make fun of me, but I’ve bled for this company. This company is my home. The place where I can come to every week and enjoy what I do regardless of the owner, the Few, or anyone else who thinks this or that. And to stand here to see a champion like Nessa Wall be the top representative of this company makes me want to puke. I’m far from the only one, far from it. Tonight, when I get into that ring against Tiffany Tompkins, the Oklahoma City fans will see a champion who actually wants to be here and compete every week.

Anger is painted on his face now.

Christopher Kane:
Call me stupid, call me a loser, call me what you will, but I will become a champion in this company. It’s non-title against Tiffany, which is cool, she’s already defended that title the same number of times as Nessa has in only a couple of weeks. Pathetic isn’t it? At least she can be a champion we can respect and be proud of. Whether you beat me tonight or not, Tiffany, I respect the hell out of you. You’re a helluva wrestler and a damn fine representative of Millennium Wrestling Enterprise.

With that said he walks out of the camera’s frame.