Millennium LXIV

Rather than inside the arena, the show opens inside the parking lot. a white car just stopped not too far from the camera position. What's peculiar with it, and totally unexpected, is to see Kelsey Spencer walking out of said car. Unlike four days ago on the orange brand show where she looked gloomy and resigned, tonight she seems in a much better mood, smiling at the Uber driver who just accompanied her there. She even takes the time to sign an autograph to the man before heading to the arena, a wide smile on her face. Considering that her presence wasn't annonced, this must be a sudden decision Spencer took, a surprise for the MWE fans and everyone else. 

Or is it?

Coming out from behind some parked cars, APE surrounds the former Uncanny Socialite. The gang is all here, from Alan Envy to REDD Thunder, from the World Champion Chris Constantine Junior to Duke Andrews, Kelsey's husband former best friend. The four men close in on the Riot star, whose eyes are now moving quickly between all four enemies. You can read the concern on her face, even though she's trying to hide it while keeping a close eye on each one of APE's members. Duke greets her, mocking her as he says that "it's a wonderful surprise to see you leaving that shitshow and join us to the A-Show." He then added that it would be APE's pleasure to welcome her to Millennium, and on those words, she gets his with a stiff foreram to the back of the head by CCJ. Alan Envy starts the beatdown, stomping and kicking Kelsey to the floor.  Duke told him to stop, picking up Kelsey and grabbing her by the throat, grunting at her that she should forget about the World Championship, that it's not for her and it will never be. Pretty much the mindset Spencer showed last Saturday, but a lot has changed in the last four days for Kelsey, who reacts with a kick to the guts, getting free from Andrews' grasp. She tries to run away, bumping onto the REDD Thunder who shakes his head. Before Kelsey even realizes that she just walked into The Law and not one of those concrete columns, Duke is back onto her, picking her up and driving her against a parked car. Her head bounces against the window that only by sheer luck doesn't break. Andrews, Envy and Constantine all take turns kicking and punching the defenseless Kelsey while REDD is just standing a few feets away from them. 

Hard to tell how long the beatdown went, but for Kelsey those moments must have felt like hours. Suddenly they stopped, taking a step back and leaving her down, battered and bruised. Slowly, she stands up, finidng herself face to face with REDD Thunder. A right punch to the face sends her spinning 180 degrees, but the Walking Disaster wasn't done just yet. 

The rest of APE smiles as their partner hits his Ripcord Headbutt, turning off the lights for Kelsey. 

---

The gorgeous filthy rich (rich is the only thing “filthy" about her) Summer Collins is standing backstage in front of an MWE Millennium logo dressed in her wrestling gear. Standing next to her but with her back facing the camera is her tag team partner (or at least one can assume it’s her tag team partner) “The Archangel” Jessica Lasiewicz. Summer looks confident with a bright and perhaps somewhat smug look written across her lovely features.

Summer Collins:
How long has it been, Jess?

Jessica Lasiewicz:
…

Summer chuckles, cupping her ear with her hand as if trying to hear better.

Summer Collins:
What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the ellipses…

Jessica Lasiewicz:
TOO DAMN LONG!

Collins chuckles again.

Summer Collins:
She’s a little angry. Then again, who can blame her? Frustration is riding high within the ranks of Fabulous right now. The answer to my question, by the way, was Dark Web. We haven’t been booked in a tag match since Dark Web. Hell, I don’t think either of us have been booked since Dark Web and Jess here only get on MWE television because she is Kimberly Williams’s half-sister.

Collins shakes her head, making disappointed “tsk, tsk” noises.

Summer Collins:
It’s a shame too, because it’s time like this I wonder if MWE really and truly understands what they have? Me and Jessica are one of the best tag teams in the world today. We are the hardest working tag teams in the world today easily, traveling all over the world to face the best competition. Yet we haven’t been utilized since Dark Web and now here we are, set to face Strip Search on Millennium. The long drought has ended.

The Archangel turns around and there is an intense look on her face as she glares into the camera with her fiery eyes.

Jessica Lasiewicz:
Zoe...Kiernan...you will NOT make a name for yourselves at the expense of Fabulous. I have been itching for a fight for a very long time now. Those tag team championships were within our grasp at Dark Web only for us to come up just short. You realize how much that stings? To come so close only to have it...quite literally...taken from you? Maybe when you get your tag team title opportunity someday and you come up on the losing end against the champions you will feel that sting. Then you will feel that pain. But for now you’re about to feel a different kind of pain, a pain that can only be inflicted by The Archangel and Summer Collins.

Lasiewicz shakes her head.

Jessica Lasiewicz:
We’re not here to bitch and moan. We’re not here to cry and complain. We had a setback but we’re going to pick ourselves up and keep moving forward because that’s what great teams do and Summer and I truly believe we are among the best teams in the world today. If we get knocked down only to have to get back up and keep fighting back to the top again and again a million times over then so be it! We will make this journey as many times as we have to until we have proved our point to the entire world…

She points a finger at the camera, as if pointing at Strip Search themselves.

Jessica Lasiewicz:
...and that journey will start with the two of you! Fabulous will lay down for no one but we will drop you two like a ton of bricks!

Summer Collins:
And that, ladies, is an ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS truth that you can bank on!

Jessica Lasiewicz:
Or as my dad likes to say...come and place your bets...

The scene fades.

Static cuts into a closely cropped view of Enganche's masked face. His eyes are gleaming with excitement.

Enganche:
With two knowledgeable players, tic-tac-toe often ends in a stalemate. The game is simple, too simple for a technical solution to overcoming your opponent but whoever has the greater resolve may find a human solution. It seems some people have something hidden away in the deeper recesses of their minds - an invisible hand - which pushes them to find a way. Now you could get lucky and have everything fall perfectly but then who is really in control? Call it fate if you will and that makes you an opportunist, not a winner. They call tic-tac-toe something different beyond these shores... noughts and crosses.

The camera pulls out a little to reveal Enganche is wearing his wrestling gear: black wifebeater, tights and boots.

Enganche:
To Kross, I'm zero. His code dictates we're all nothing beneath him. Still I've watched our false prophet over the preceding weeks and I don't hear truth in his voice nor see clarity in his gaze. He speaks glibly of enlightenment, proclaims he has the answers but what are the questions? I never knew salvation could be so vague. The messiah should be undeniable but this man wears such status like a child in his father's suit - he's playing dress-up by himself.

He shakes his head from side to side.

Enganche:
Perhaps that early promise was merely fate and the downward spiral ever since is just the flailing efforts of a man in over his head. You can't have the beauty of the ocean without the danger which lurks below it. There is no glory without suffering. What we do should be straightforward; stun or subdue your opponent long enough to attain a three-count pinfall. Of course the manner in which we go about that differs and I think he dwells on such details for too long to see what he's really missing. Some things just can't be learned - they're innate.

The masked man rubs his palms together, eyes widening.

Enganche:
I'll find a way and he will be left just as puzzled as we are by his charade.

He bows his head and our view suddenly shifts to a second camera, this time further back and showing a young blonde woman in a bright pink sun dress sat in one of two folded chairs. For those of you not following Enganche on Twitter (@realenganche), this is his new PR agent Isla Moore. The original cameraman pats Enganche on the back and leaves. Isla golf claps as the masked man walks over and slumps down in the seat next to her with a sigh.

Isla Moore:
Nice work.

Enganche:
Thanks, I just say whatever comes to mind.

Isla Moore:
Honestly... I didn't really get it but that's part of your appeal.

He glances at her for a second, emotion hidden behind his mask, and then pulls out his phone to start browsing.

Isla Moore:
Ooh, lets talk branding. Obviously social media is VITAL to building a brand so I've had a look at your Twitter account. Your handle is fine, the profile picture is perfect for creating some mystique... but erm, what's that NKOTB thing about in your Twitter bio?

Enganche:
New Kid On The Block.

He shrugs his shoulders but Isla has a smile creeping across her face.

Isla Moore:
I see... because you need a nickname like every other wrestler.

Enganche:
Nah, I want the fans to give me one - makes it authentic.

Isla Moore:
Authenticity IS important but you could do with something in the meantime, OK?

She pauses for an acknowledgement from Enganche, who is distracted by something on his phone. It doesn't happen.

Isla Moore:
The New Kid On The Block could work because it invokes some playful nostalgia but it's also relevant.

Enganche:
Yeah, I guess...

Isla Moore:
If we hear anything from Donnie Wahlberg's lawyers then we take it to court. Even if we lose, it's extra publicity.

Enganche:
Cool, cool. Out of interest, how many people pronounce your name is-luh rather than eye-luh?

Isla Moore:
Like, basically everyone. How many people pronounce yours en-ganch rather than en-gan-chay?

Enganche:
Everyone who doesn't speak Spanish so probably a few billion. Did you know Spanish is the most widely spoken language but it's not the most spoken? That's Chinese. I could never get my head round Cantonese or Mandarin, even when I was-

Isla Moore:
We're getting off topic. Tonight you have another chance to make an impression on MWE. Last week was a great start but you need to keep that same energy and turn some more heads. Of course it's better if you win your matches but it's more important you entertain the fans, establish a connection. That's the key to building the Enganche brand.

Enganche:
No problem, the way I wrestle guarantees entertainment.

Isla Moore:
Yep and that's why I reached out to you. Oh, the mask too.

Enganche:
Where are all my merchandising deals?

She cocks an eyebrow at him and leans forward in her chair.

Isla Moore:
We have A LOT of work to do before that happens but when it does...

The PR agent rubs her thumb over her index finger - the money sign.

Enganche:
I'm only joking, this ain't about the money for me.

Isla Moore:
Well in that case, lets renegotiate my percentage because-

Enganche:
If you'll excuse me, I've got a match to win.

With a chuckle, the masked man jumps to his feet and power walks towards the door.

Isla Moore:
I thought as much. Good luck out there.

He stops and looks back over his shoulder.

Enganche:
Thanks but luck is always against whoever needs it.

He cracks his knuckles and heads through the doorway as we fade to black.

Joey Leclair:
I have been called many things in my career, but a fake?

The scene opens up in a dark lit room with a single dim light hanging from the ceiling, and under the light you can make out only the face of one Joey Leclair.

Joey Leclair:
That’s a new one, and I give you credit for being creative. But you see? Fame, Glory, and Money? Yea I love the money, because it’s how the world clicks it’s how you survive, and get from one place to another, and no matter how dark and twisted someone is? They lie if they say they don’t love money... But the glory and fame? They are meaningless, because the only kind of fake I see is Imfamy.. Ask yourself this, twenty years from now some people may remember the hero’s of our generation, but the ones they talk about are the villains who done dastardly things, and the villains who gave them nightmares or pissed them off.

Joey grabs the light bringing it closer to his face.

Joey Leclair:
Alexander you call me a fake yet you have never walked a mile in my shoes, you call me a fake yet you have never lived through my life and experienced at the pain and heartache that led to me losing all my humanity to become the monster I am today so don’t you dear judge another for what you know nothing about, and last week you may think that Grace sent the security to stop me for your protection, but you are wrong my friend because security was only that for her protection, because she knows I don’t like her and if she shared the ring with yourself, and Vin Halstead? That she would very likely become a victim as well. But the rich bitch has put restrictions on me forcing me to not lay a hand on any non wrestler in Millennium so consider yourselves lucky, but tonight? Alexander you are in action, and I may pay you a visit who knows, but I do have one last thing to say, and this goes out to the entire Millennium roster.

Joey gets a serious expression on his face.

Joey Leclair:
they say a champion has a target on his back, and I can admit since becoming champion I’ve had several people trying their luck with me, but they have it all wrong, because Henri Black has it right, there can only be one apex predator, and on Millennium that predator is Joey Fucking Leclair, so come all that will, because when the smoke clears? I will still be your Chicago Way Champion.

Joey jerks the light ripping it from the ceiling causing the room to go dark as the scene comes to an end.

Duke Andrews is walking down the hallway dressed for his match that is scheduled to start soon. A black hat on backwards, his beard a little unkempt at this point. Wearing his new “Stay Violent” t-shirt with the American Flag on the right shoulder, a white outline of the A.P.E. logo on the back. Available now on the MWE merch site.

His wrists were taped in black tape as he was wearing his usual short black trunks, the usual Duke Andrews “DA” logo on the front and A.P.E. on the back. His knee pads and braces on and in place as he carried his red white and blue Demarini bat over his right shoulder.

Without hesitation, his body turned as he grabbed the door handle and pushed backwards into the office of the General Managers. Watching to see who was looking around.

Duke Andrews:
I told you Vince!

Duke shut the door behind him, and swung a chair under the handle front he inside as he looked at Vincent Moretti who sat behind a desk.

Duke Andrews:
I’ve given you ample time to turn over the suspect that took me out at Dark Web and you have YET to do anything that’s remotely part of your job. Instead you give your little pet Kelsey title shot after title shot. And then you bring in that big homeless looking freak Seth around to get him in line to try and take the strap off of my good friend Chris.

Duke spins another chair around and takes a seat across from Vince.

Duke Andrews:
We’ve broken bread. We’ve shared our stories. I’ve watched you take over mentoring Nina and letting her spread her wings in this business. Then you call and want us on your show. Why? Who the hell knows. You needed a ratings boost…

Vince goes to stand up and Duke flips the bat and presses it to his chest.

Duke Andrews:
Sit.

Duke takes a long breath.

Duke Andrews:
And what did you do for repayment? You threatened to take my pay from the pay per view. For ONLY making sure those inbred hilljack McMillions didn’t interfere. And then you sit on your ass for the weeks after not doing your job. So tell me, what do I have to do to make you realize that this ain’t a joke?

Vincent scowls at Duke as he makes those assertions but he isn’t losing his composure. Instead he reaches into his jacket as if he knew this was coming.

Vincent Moretti:
Two things: If you actually read what brand he’s on, that ‘homeless freak’ as you called him, I have no jurisdiction on what goes on for him. That was part of the agreement. If you realized the god damn world doesn’t revolve around you then maybe you’d get out of your own way.”

This part doesn’t please Duke but Vincent raises his hand with a calmness as his voice isn’t showing any real emotion.

Vincent Moretti:
Second, I have something for you if you think I’ve done fuck all.

Vincent pulls out a flash drive from his suit jacket pocket and Duke eyeballs it right away knowing what it could entail.

Vincent Moretti:
Those are the people who have been cleared. Both by me and the Chicago PD and where they were at. You can look over it since you’re running your own...investigation. But you know how things are, we still have a number of people yet to go through.

Duke smirks as he reaches out. Taking the flash drive from Moretti’s hand. He stands up and looks over the plastic in his hand before pushing it into his trunks.

Duke Andrews:
I’ll take this. But this isn’t over. And let me tell you something. When I find this person, the blood that will be spilled will be on yours, Elsa’s and Grace’s hands.

Duke taps the bat on the desk before taking Vince’s latte. Looking into the paper cup and spitting his dip spit into it before walking out.

Vincent Moretti:
...That wasn’t even my latte.

Vincent mutters with a roll of the eyes.

Vincent Moretti:
One of these days that boy’ll see sense…

Backstage, a banged up Kelsey Spencer is shown sitting on a bench in the trainer’s room. With a bag of ice pressed to her head, she winces as the medical professional shines a light into each of her eyes.

Kelsey Spencer:
Hey, c’mon! That hurts…

Doc:
Hmm… Irritated by light.

He pockets his torch, pushing himself back on his office chair to get some much desired social distancing.

Doc:
You may have suffered a concussion, ma’am. We should run a few more tests.

Kelsey Spencer:
Are you serious..? Well, will I be able to compete at the pay-per-view?

Doc:
It’s too early to tell, I’m afraid.

Kelsey groans with anguish as she clutches the ice bag to her right eye socket, slumping her posture as the doctor moves to a nearby laptop and begins ticking away at the keys. The sound of footsteps is starting to be heard and there isn’t some effort for this to be muted as someone is coming. The doctor hears them and is guarded right away considering some of the things that have happened in the past involving people needing medical attention and attacks. The doctor’s tension isn’t relieved when it is Seth Iser who enters the office and he’s dressed to compete rather than dressed smartly as you’d see him in professional appearances and judging by the occasional breath he has to take, he really hustled over to get here.

Doc:
Sir, can we no--

Seth Iser:
I don’t want to hear it, doc. Give me a couple minutes alone with her or I’ll do it by force.

The line of intimidation makes the doctor pick up his laptop and start to retreat to a different room to start filling out the rest of his recommendations even though that agitated look doesn’t leave Seth until he doesn’t see the doctor anymore. His face lightens when he turns toward Kelsey, whose gaze remains on the floor. You can see his left hand is still obviously casted from this angle.

Seth Iser:
Where are you?

He asks this question calmly and in a low tone toward Kelsey. There’s a hint of authority there but it’s coming from a genuine place. She lowers the bag of ice as her sharp, yet far away stare rises to look at him.

Kelsey Spencer:
What are you talking about? I’m right in front of you.

Seth shakes his head calmly after that response.

Seth Iser:
That’s not...what I mean. I’m asking about this.

And with that there’s a point toward the head, there’s sternness in his voice that’s getting more obvious.

Seth Iser:
Don’t think...I didn’t hear what you said on Riot. I think I know where you’re at. I don’t know if you do though. So I ask again. Where are you?

Kelsey pauses for a moment, intensely staring back at Iser. She gives a half-hearted shrug as her eyes shy away, her words grumbling out of her.

Kelsey Spencer:
It’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true. I was just saying what everybody’s been thinking for the last year and a half.

She looks back up to him, tossing the ice bag aside.

Kelsey Spencer:
It’s no big deal, really. All I wanted was to wrestle great matches, and that’s exactly what I can do at this point in my career. I should be grateful for that. There are so many wrestlers who have their careers cut short for whatever reason. Some people are champions, and some aren’t. It’s that simple. I just happen to be one of those wrestlers who works harder than most and never gets anywhere.

Seth’s eyes blink as if he almost can’t comprehend what Kelsey just said to him back. There’s almost a look of fury creeping into his eyes.

Seth Iser:
...Kelsey. That...is bullshit.

The strong words from the elder statesman as his breathing is becoming a little heavier. The emotion of this is actually starting to sweep in and get to him a little.

Seth Iser:
That line of thinking Kelsey...is bullshit. You really think a man who spends more time on social media than he does in front of a wrestling camera representing the company is what we call an ideal champion?

Kelsey looks to him, perplexed.

Seth Iser:
Do you really think that having a freak human being pull himself across the cage and stealing a plan from my book on how to eviscerate the cage and help someone retain is what we call an ideal champion that someone looks toward? Or looks UP to?

Kelsey Spencer:
Well, not exact--

Seth Iser:
And do you really think you’re really working as hard as you SAY you are if you have THAT thought in your head?

It takes a moment for the gears to turn, but the expression on the face of the likely-concussed crusader from the orange brand becomes one that displays a sudden revelation. As if the penny has finally dropped. She stares forward, seemingly stuck in time. And this is where Seth really launches into it.

Seth Iser:
You don’t have to look at me but make sure you listen to everything I say right now. You’re worried about what other people might be saying. What that perception might be...when the ink hasn’t even touched the paper on what your legacy ultimately will end up being. And even if there are others who might put their imprint on that...right now, can you go home and say you truly are putting your best foot forward to be able to attempt to define what it is you want?

He pauses for a moment as his eyes narrow slightly when he asks that question but he doesn’t give Kelsey full time to answer it.

Seth Iser:
You have two kids right now, Kelsey. Two of them. Are you putting your best foot forward for them with dedicating every chance you can to attack learning our craft to one day maybe BE the best wrestler in the company and doing it YOUR way and be that inspiration to THEM?

The way he says that last sentence isn’t in the typical fashion you hear from Iser because we might have heard him yelling in the past...but this? His voice is actually cracking a little when he tries to put emphasis on specific words.

Seth Iser:
And you have it drummed in your head that people don’t want someone like you as the World Champion? You know what you should say to them? WHO GIVES A DAMN!?

The way he says that out loud...the voice is echoing across the hallway. It’s a volume we rarely if ever hear from Iser. Kelsey, for her part, remains silently staring at the same spot on the opposite side of the room. It could be the head trauma, or the veteran’s words sinking in.

Seth Iser:
I went in there a couple weeks ago Kelsey...I had the thought that there was a decent chance if you wrestled things your way. Hell, a really good chance...if you wrestled things YOUR way with the fire and the never ending desire to keep adding to your game that you’ll come out of this as the World Champion. And the thought of me having the briefcase and you being the World Champion has more than crossed my mind a few times. Oh yes it has...and we’ll gladly cross that bridge if we get there. But right now? I might have a broken hand...but I beat Melissa my way. She might not like how it went down, but I damn sure got that job done. Tonight? I’m wrestling a man who hasn’t been pinned in over a god damned year with NO RULES! And I’m going to wrestle that match MY way to get to that goal because god damn it all...I want to be the World Champion one more time before my body gives out on me.

Seth is at least no longer shouting so loud at points where his voice is ringing off the walls but his volume is still quite high.

Seth Iser:
But you go in there with someone like CCJ...someone who has his own spin on bending and breaking the rules of the sport with just the thought of ‘Oh I’m just going to have a great match…’ then he’s already won. When he sends his entire gang out after somebody like he just did tonight Kelsey...you know what that’s code for from one wrestler to another…

And there’s that calmness in Seth’s voice starting to creep back in.

Seth Iser:
That if you’re wrestling your way...you threaten the title he cherishes. He knows it...I know it. APE knows it which is why they’re more proactive than ever about pulling this. So from this point forward...do it YOUR way. BE Kelsey Spencer and represent the sport in YOUR manner. And doing it that way, the people who most believe in you will be all the more proud.

Kelsey at last locks eyes with Seth, after minutes of avoiding it. Her brows lower as she stares at him, the corner of her lip quivering from the sheer emotion pumping through her.

Seth Iser:
Am...I understood?

A brief pause and then a silent, stern nod from the young Australian.

Seth Iser:
So I ask...one more time: Where are you?

Kelsey staggers to her feet, catching her balance before she topples over. She stands firmly in front of Seth, looking up at him with a confident smirk. She repeats her words from earlier, but unlike last time, there’s no snark to be heard. There’s nothing but a feint sense of the fiery, passionate Kelsey Spencer of old.

Kelsey Spencer:
...I’m right here.

Seth Iser:
Better. We can continue this conversation after you’re fully checked out but some of that had to be said in front of this.

Seth points at the camera that is filming what is going on.

Seth Iser:
But right now...I’m going to go defeat a man who hasn’t lost in over a year, age and broken hand be damned.

Kelsey actually flashes a smile as Seth turns to make his exit.

Kelsey Spencer:
That’s right, sir. Do it your way.

She stops and looks to the melting ice pack by her side, then back at the door in a moment of clarity before she speaks to no one in particular … or perhaps the only person still standing in the room.

Kelsey Spencer:
...Do it your way.

 
The locker room door is closed, but from inside we can clearly hear Christian Michaels yelling "How did it happen?" He's clearly pissed becuase of what happened to his wife at the beginning of the show, the brutal assault by hands of APE that might have put Kelsey on the sidelines with a concussion. Javen says that he has no clues, and that CM has to calm down and focus on the match. Which obviously wasn't an option at the moment for Christian, too concerned for Kel's health and upset over APE knowing something that "nobody except us knew anything about."

And then it's silence.

Javen's voice breaks it, saying to his brother that he "can't really be thinking that." That being the suspicion that Javen tipped off APE. As absurd as it may sound, Christian is well aware of the friendship that still ties his younger brother with Duke Andrews, despite everything the Epitome Of Perfection has done to him. Javen obviously denies the accusation, trying to convince his brother of his innocence, appealing to the blood they share. The tone of both voices rises as the tension clearly grows between the two brothers. A stage hand comes knocking at their door, informing them that their match is up next. 

Christian is the first to come out, his face like thunder as he slams the door behind him, walking toward the gorilla position. A moment later Javen comes out as well, letting out a long sigh and shaking his head. The camera cuts to the next segment.

---

The camera crew was getting in place. The always adorable Olivia Constantine was tying her apron, and the camera seemed to linger a bit long on her hind parts. The camera then pans to the bulge, and man do I mean bulge in the front of the pants of none other than everyone’s favorite sex dream, REDD Thunder. Olivia handed him an apron and told him to put it on along with his chief’s hat. The Thunder obliges and ties his apron around his shirtless body and dons his hat. They step begins a large central island on the kitchen set. The director yells “action” and the scene is on its way

Olivia Constantine:
Hey everyone. I’m Olivia...

REDD Thunder:
And Me am Thunder...

Olivia Constantine:
And this is Cooking with Olivia and Thunder!!! I swear REDD we have got to find a better name.

REDD Thunder:
Me agree. Me think the name is very uncool and needs a little more spice...much like the spicey Buffalo Ranch wings we are going to show you how to make tonight, just in time for your big game day party!

Audience applause is heard, and The Thunder looks confused as there is no live audience

Olivia Constantine:
And you can’t have wings without some amazingly yummy yummy queso dip and hand fried tortilla chips! OMG I’m getting os excited and Hungry! *She jumps up and down, and apparently isn’t wearing a bra as certain parts are moving in ways that make this segment go from TVG to TV14 in a hurry.*

REDD Thunder:
Ummm.....Me think you need to stop. Your boobies are bouncing everywhere and this is a family friendly show...only violence, blood, and innuendo allowed.

Olivia Constantine:
Oh, so I cant jump up and down, but you can flaunt those damn War Tiddies all day?

REDD Thunder:
Yes...because me am obligated via trademark

He winks and smiles into the camera.

REDD Thunder:
Hashtag WARTIDDIES

He flexes and bounces his pecs

Olivia Constantine:
I wish mine could do that

REDD Thunder:
Me wish yours could too.

Olivia Constantine:
Anyway later, REDD and I are going to show you how to turn the grill into a family favorite eatery with a few tips and tricks with stuff you have around the home.

REDD continues to smile, but cannot as his buddy Duke Andrews walks by

Duke Andrews:
LAAAAAAAAAAAAME

Duke walks off, and REDD looks at Olivia, and into the camera and takes off his hat and apron.

REDD Thunder:
Me can't do this. Me not designed and made for cooking shows. No...me made for one purpose. Suplexing jabronis and sexy times with ring rats. And me do a fan-Eff Word-Tastic job at both. Nah man. The Thunder spent time on the shelf and did some self reflections and thinking and musing. This is what me have come up with.

One. Me am adorable and handsome and the strongest man in pro wrasslin.

Two. Me have been given the greatest opportunity and job a man, woman, child, or anything in between for those people who like to misquote and attack me for gender bias...cuz The Thunder in fact DOES NOT discriminate between what he does to a jabroni...no, The Thunder was hired by the smartest, most talented and....what else is is?

Olivia Constantine:
By contract obligation, you also have to mention Chris is a genius.

REDD Thunder::
Thanks baby

Smartest, most talent, and genius man, my friend and your champion, Chris Constantine Jr. Chris came to be and asked me to make sure everyone in wrasslin played fair when it came to him, because let’s be honest, he is a victim of attack after attack, BOTH physical and mental and emotional. He asked me to make sure people play fair, and let me be straighter than a Chad who got asked back to his high school prom, ya’ll jabronis haven’t been very fair. Y’all keep trying to break the rules that decent people like the APE are trying to uphold. THis stops now. Me gonna make sure that APE gets exactly what APE deserves....fair, honest pro wrasslin.

Me am letting you people all know. The Thunder is THE LAW. You step one toe over the line that APE has established, and THE LAW is gonna come harder than, well, that same Chad at that same senior prom,,,pending consent from a high school girl over the age of 18.

Me was put on this planet to smash jabroni’s who get in my way. Me have one job. That's to make sure that APE takes its spot as THE Single Greatest wrasslin stable ever created. ANd ya’ll make think its unfair, and it may be. But THE LAW says its what is right. Feel free to try and fight THE LAW.

But we all know you can’t. Me have seen you all try, and all of you have failed. Now THE LAW has his sights on the Tag Team Champ Peon Chips. Me look at those belts and me get a hunger and a sensation that cannot go away until it is properly fed. Me want those num-nums. Me want those titles. And me and APE are gonna get them. Its just a matter of time.

Ask Hammerstein...he couldn’t do anything about APE kicking his sorry jabroni hind parts out. And me pretty sure that he is still nursing a headache from that Head Butt.

Now THE LAW has to take a massive Golden Era....which is what me have been calling my giant, stinky, dumps. Me hope that joke lands. Me think Golden Era is crap. Me cannot reiterate that enough. They are crap and me and APE are gonna take their Tag Team Titles.

REDD speedily runs off camera, almost holding or clenching his butt as he races toward the bathroom

As we take a break from Ringside the cameras pan backstage to find a somber and very different innovator of the Aussie Salute, Keelan Jayce. Tonight instead of his usually pumped up self, he’s dressed in a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. The room is rather dark, but still holds enough faint light to capture the image of his eyes as the camera zooms in.

Seated in a position on a folding chair he looks directly into the lens, his blue eyes glimmering a sort of intensity we’ve never seen before.

Keelan Jayce:
It's hard to see when someone has changed, someone you used to call friend. Even when you’ve heard the rumors, the chit-chat behind the scenes, and even watched the change unfold before your eyes under various means. Some part of you wants to turn on the blinders. To not be swayed by the talk of other individuals, to give them that chance to redeem themselves.

He stared intensely for a moment further before his voice becomes more boisterous.

Keelan Jayce:
All I have to say for that now is FUCK that! In last week’s main event, Gavin you crossed a line and I’m damn sure going to make sure the next time you and I run into each other that you’re going to remember you did just that. I’m all for using the rules of the match as a guideline, but you didn’t just want to use the weapons at your disposal, instead you wanted to take privileged information on a medical condition that I have and use it to your advantage. You didn’t just want to defeat me Gav, no you wanted to hurt me, you wanted to make me bleed, so much for calling you mate, ‘ey?

He furrowed his brow then.

Keelan Jayce:
The despicable thing that you have become is no better than the other vermin who’ve been crawling around this place calling themselves Apes, trying to use whatever cheap trick they have up their sleeve to pull out a win and then justifiably try to act like they’re some type of big bad, but you’re different aren’t you Gav. You give no fucks about anything anymore right? Willing to let your wife throw herself in the way, beat me with a chair, shatter a kendo stick across my back, and attempt to make me bleed.

He gave quite a sardonic laugh then.

Keelan Jayce:
There is nothing that gave me more power over you than flipping you into that pin for the win, and now that you’ve shown your true colors Gav, you best believe I’m going to show mine. This True Blue is going to end you.

He stood then taking the chair and tossing it onto the floor. Glaring now as the camera panned up at him walking away. Although scheduled to face Freddie Hjalmar it was clear to see the Australian had one thing on his mind.

Millennium returns from commercial break to a pre-taped segment from the roof of the Enterprise Arena in Chicago, IL. Most likely recorded the night before, we see "The Rising Phoenix" Bobbi Jackson, the Lockdown Champion who is sitting on the roof looking up at the stars in her street clothes, clearly not dressed to compete which helps determine the timeline of when this was filmed. She looks down from the sky and stares at the camera. There is almost an eerie calm about her as the champion begins to speak...

Bobbi Jackson:
Last week? It wasn't my week. These things happen. If you're in this business to maintain some sort of undefeated streak. You're probably here for the wrong reason...

Bobbi moves some hair out of her face as she continues.

Bobbi Jackson:
At Millennium this week I will team with Megan Rydell against the woman who beat me last week in Sophie O'Brian and her tag team partner. A man we haven't heard from much since the draw was placed on his record at the pay per view...West Long.

The Phoenix furrows her brow a bit, clearly just speaking that name out loud irks her a bit.

Bobbi Jackson:
So I guess that makes this a pretty important match, right?

Bobbi kinda shrugs.

Bobbi Jackson:
I suppose in some people's minds it might be. But for me? It's just another match on just another week. Because you see, I don't allow my wins and losses to affect me from one week to the next. If I win? Great! I go home and start training for the next match. If I lose? So be it! I need to not only train harder but I need to study the match and my opponent to figure out what I did wrong, what I need to do to make sure it doesn't happen again. All I care about in this business is getting BETTER! Because at the end of the day...I want to be the best who has ever laced up a pair of wrestling boots...

The blonde slowly stands up off the roof of the arena, the look on her face a little bit more intense.

Bobbi Jackson:
When the history books are written on this sport a hundred years from now, LONG after I'm gone. I want be remembered. Because the best in this industry? We live on forever in the minds and hearts of wrestling fans everywhere. That's what this is all about! The chance, to live...FOREVER!

Bobbi's voice can be heard getting a tad emotional as she tries to dial it back and compose herself. She takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

Bobbi Jackson:
So Rydell? I'll be the first to admit that we don't know each other very well. But I'm willing to bet that neither of us are fans of the people we have to face this week. So we can skip the pleasantries and get right down to business...

The look in the brown eyes of the Phoenix was stern but also genuinely sincere as she reaches her hand out to the camera.

Bobbi Jackson:
Do you want to live forever? If so, please...come rise with the Phoenix.

She grins a bit as the camera fades to static and Millennium returns to ringside for the next match.

It is dark, almost pitch black with very little light in an unknown undisclosed location. It also eerily silent, or at least it has been until the familiar voice of the Northern Irish superstar Sophie O’Brian begins to heard nearby…

Sophie O’Brian:
Chaos...violence...destruction...it is running rampant, and even though some love to look at things through an American-centric view of the world, that chaos, violence, and destruction is running rampant everywhere all over the globe.

A spotlight suddenly shines. Sophie O’Brian then steps into view from stage left and into the center of that spotlight. The raven haired beauty is wearing black leather pants, a black hooded top, and black boots.

Sophie O’Brian:
When you look at the MWE, you can see chaos itself in its purest of forms but on a microcosm. I already explained how Megan Rydell utilized chaos and confusion to her advantage in order to insert herself back into an Intercontinental Title Tournament that she had already been eliminated from once before. It was a tournament I never lost, and to add icing on the chaotic cake, I was the one who had eliminated Rydell from the tournament.

Sophie chuckles nastily, wickedly.

Sophie O’Brian:
It makes sense then that Megan would try to avoid me at all costs. It makes sense then that she would want to stop me, because I have already beaten her once. I can and will do so again. No matter the chaos you create, Megaan, I will always overcome it. And this chaos of tonight won’t be of any assistance to you or your so called “partner” either…

Sophie waves mockingly at the camera.

Sophie O’Brian:
Greetings Bobbi...I do not wish you to think that you were merely a means to an end last week, you are a better competitor than that, but you did serve to prove my point, that I can defeat championship caliber talent. But tell me something, do you really think you can trust your partner tonight? Do you really think you can put your faith in someone who truly believes she is better than everyone else and thinks my victory over a champion of your caliber meant nothing? What was it she called you again? Oh yes...a little bitch...not exactly the words of a good partner, now is it?

Sophie smirks.

Sophie O’Brian:
West Long can go into this match knowing that I will hold up my end of the bargain. I know what the end game is. I know what my ultimate goal is. And unlike Megan Rydell whose sole talent is speaking complete and utter gibberish, I always get the job done. It may be a short game, it may be a long game, but at the end of the game I will be declared the winner. Thus said Sophie O’Brian.

The scene fades.

The feed switches to the backstage interview area, where Iggy sits across a coffee table from Hammerstein.

Iggy:
I'm here with The American Monster Jacob Hammerstein and after what happened last week, I've got lots of questions for you. Ready to begin?

Hammerstein nods his head, a smirk on his face.

Hammerstein:
You damn right I'm ready. Fire away.

Iggy:
Well, the obvious question is how are you after the beatdown you went through at the hands of your former allies, APE?

Hammerstein chuckles a little while rubbing his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger.

Hammerstein:
Yeah that was something, wasn't it? They beat the high holy hell outta me, and for what? Because I didn't come out to help him defend his title? Because I had the nerve to call Chris out on his chickenshit ways? I tried to be chill about it. I tried to be respectful about it, because, you know, I did consider him a friend, but at the end of the day, I had to tell it like it was.

Honestly, I think it boiled down to the fact that Constantine knew that I wasn't gonna be a sheep like Envy, Andrews, and Redd. See, he wants people to follow him. He wants bootlicking toadies who'll do the heavy lifting for him.

And that just ain't me.

Iggy:
One thing that struck me was that no one came out to help you while APE assaulted you. What are your thoughts on that?

The American Monster runs his hand through his raven hair and shakes his head.

Hammerstein:
I understand why nobody came out to help. I ain't been exactly forthright and trustworthy. It don't bother me that no one came out. It don't bother me that nobody has stepped up and volunteered to fight by my side. After everything I've done since I've come to Millennium, I won't be surprised if I have to fight those sons of bitches by myself….

The intensity level in The American Monster's voice grows as he scoots to the edge of his seat.

Hammerstein:
... and I'm just fine with that. Envy, Duke, and Redd, yeah, you guys beat the shit outta me, but you didn't finish me. You know why? It's because you three don't have enough between your legs to finish me. You three don't have the fire in your belly to tell CCJ to go fu…

Hammerstein's statement is cut short as Redd Thunder comes from behind and pulls him up by grabbing two handfuls of hair. Before Hammerstein can react, Redd drives his forehead into the back of The American Monster's head. Hammerstein buckles under the devastating impact of the headbutt, but Redd's not finished. He pulls back and drives his forehead into the back of Hammerstein's head again. Hammerstein crumples to the floor, unconscious. Redd stands over him, a smile on his face. Duke Andrews stands behind Redd, holding a can of Hamm’s in his hand, raising it up and taking a long drink while holding the rest of the six pack in his other hand. Alan Envy walks up with a piece of key lime pie and a random beautiful lady on his arm.

Alan Envy:
Ripcord headbutts!! Damn….that looked painful..

Envy laughs as he walks away with his pie and the lady.

No special setting. Dark room. All we see is a very stoic expression on BROOKFORD’s face.

BROOKFORD:
I am not the type of guy who gets worked up for ‘dream matches.’ I never entertained the notion that there was a competitor out that made me day dream about what an encounter with them would look like. 98% of the wrestlers in this business are the same to me. Just there. The masses get worked up for Anatasia. Me? Just another match. The fans get worked up for Melissa Reaves, former MWE Champion. Do I get excited? Nope. Another night at the office. Even my recent victory in HKW, becoming Dynasty Champion was fun and all. The names in that match? Names who the fans get wet dreams thinking about, none of them excite me. All of them were just there. I had a job to do. Rinse, wash, repeat. BUT tonight is different. This is the closest I’ll ever get to being excited about the carnage him and I can create. And that man is of course Seth Iser.

BROOKFORD smirks.

BROOKFORD:
I wasn’t in FGA long. We weren’t on the same brand. I listened to him speak, his words resonate with me. Seth gets exactly what this business is about, he is an old school guy much like myself. A lot of these kids who continue to contaminate a sport that was built for warriors, none of them can possibly comprehend what it takes to actually last. Seth does. Hence the reason why WE are the last of a dying breed. My only regret leaving FGA was not getting a match with him. For the better part of two years, I would catch the occasional comment on Twitter among fans fantasy booking a match between Seth and I. I shrugged it off. I wasn’t going back to FGA. He wasn’t signing with HKW. I didn’t think he would come here. The day he made his debut, not going to lie, a twinge of excitement bubbled within. Then I got notice we would main event tonights show. I smiled.

I am not a huge smiler. Getting paid puts a smile on my face. Fucking my girl puts a smile on my face. Becoming Dynasty Champion puts a smile on my face. It’s rare. Finally, the dream match of Seth and BROOKFORD comes to light in the only way a clash of the Wrestling Gods can take place. NO DQ.

BROOKFORD lets the thought of the NO DQ match linger so people can let their imaginations run wild.

BROOKFORD:
Seth, we got a problem, one of us has to lose, the question is who. You got goals. You want to become MWE Champion. You want to check another accomplishment off your bucket list. I get that. If I wasn’t in this tournament you would be my favorite to win, hands down. Such is life. The only pleasure I am going to get being your roadblock; we are going to put on a wrestling clinic. No flips. Just fist. Pure unadulterated hoss fight. Survival of the fittest. The best man will win. Screw the lucha things, screw the acrobatics, this sport was built on a good fight. Not dancing. One of the things I covet just as much as money is a good fight. I am guaranteed to get that from you. So thanks. I plan to keep the ball rolling for myself. The question of who is going to lose, obviously, I choose you. Nothing personal. Unlike the mental midgets I usually deal with, a real man like yourself understands that. Lets do this.

The camera zooms out. Shows BROOKFORD cracking his knuckles.

BROOKFORD:
See you out there.

BROOKFORD nods. He walks away as the scene fades to black.