Recent Posts

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 10
« Last post by renonevada on February 16, 2018, 01:21:13 AM »

Rodney orders Reno to get himself thrown into Rikers Island.

FATU                  as UNNAMED SAMOAN



Marquis Irving was holding a clipboard and reading over the attached file through his thick glasses. The nurse flipped through a few pages before setting it aside and reaching for a box of exam gloves. He was in his late forties and pudgy, with a bushy mustache and oily skin.

“Now for the fun part.” He pulled a latex glove over his right hand and let the rubber SNAP against his wrist for effect.

He said, “Pull down your shorts and squat.”

Reno stood there in nothing but his boxers with his bare feet inside a red rectangle painted on the cold floor. His face was red, the skin irritated, and eyes bloodshot from a recent exposure to pepper spray.

“Wonderful bedside manner,” he said, squinting, as he pushed the waistband of his underwear down past his buttocks and let them fall around his ankles.

Another inhabitant of the bright white exam room leaned against the wall a few feet in front of Reno. He was a young man, mid-twenties, with a military-style haircut, thin mustache, and a serious look. The New York Department of Corrections uniform was a bit too tight, probably on purpose, to accentuate his show muscles.

The corrections officer smiled looking at Reno and quipped, “Not bad. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Reno bent his knees. “Now that we can all see I’m not hiding anything nefarious, how bout we call this a day? I can’t wait to meet my new roommate.”

He heard Irving say from behind, “I think we need to do a rectal. Just to be sure he’s not smuggling in contraband.”

The officer nodded, “Yeah. I think we might have a Han Solo here.”

Reno lifted his eyes. “A what?” In the corner of his eye, Irving appeared long enough to grab a tube of lubricant from a nearby tray table. Reno said, “Come on, fellas. You don’t wanna do this. They served us Huevos Rancheros at the station.”

Irving said, “Slight pressure.”

As Reno felt what he hoped was just a finger press inside of him, he suddenly found himself questioning every decision he had ever made in life.

The corrections officer bent down, looked Reno in the eye, and said, “Welcome to Rikers.”

LAST NIGHT—Play was pressed on an iPod classic. The Doors’ Back Door Man started up. Loud and awesome, the music rocketed up the aux cable, to the buds in Reno Nevada’s ears.

He tucked the iPod in his pocket and lit a cigarette outfront of McSorley's Old Ale House. He came to the East Village pub for lunch. After a sandwich and a few brews, he decided to stay for dinner. By late afternoon, the transition from beer to hard liquor was complete. Now the sun was long gone and the night was upon the NYC.

He heading west on 7th toward his hotel. Despite his level of inebriation, there was no stumble in his step. His basic motor skills were in check. His vision sharp, his balance steady. When he swallowed there was no fear of vomit suddenly roiling up from the inferno of his alcohol-twisted guts. He was, after all, a professional drunkard, no longer burdened by the difficulties faced by amateurs. He was made from sterner stuff.

He smoked and walked, the street lights reflecting off the gas station sunglasses on his face, and lost himself in the music. Nodding his head, snapping his fingers, mouthing the words, he was enslaved to the rhythm. A girl walked past him on her phone, unphased. This was New York.

He was so immersed in the track, he didn’t notice the black car skid quickly to a stop beside him or the driver that came rushing out. He was a large Samoan man with hands like catcher’s mitts. He grabbed Reno by the arm and frog-marched him to the vehicle.

Reno squawked, “Hey, man!”

The driver said, “Into the car, coppertop.”

The back door flung open and Reno was muscled in. He landed awkwardly in the seat and the door slammed shut. Turned around in the front passenger seat was a woman with spiky blonde hair and cold blue eyes. In her hands was a pistol aimed at his forehead.

The car shifted on its axel as the driver climbed into the front seat. The door was shut and the transmission put into gear. The engine revved and the car launched forward down the road at speed.

Next to Reno was an albino fella with a gaunt face and pursed lips like he just ate a piece of sour candy. His white hair was styled in messy spikes like some kind of anime character and he wore a suit fashioned out of glossy PVC leather.

Reno’s eyes circled back round the vehicle. The Samoan had the Columbine look down and the girl with the gun was decked out in white leather duds.

Reno said to them, “Holy shit, are you guys from the future?”

“Quiet,” the Albino said with a sharp tongue.

Reno looked up the gun barrel to the blonde behind it. “What’s with the hand cannon? You got me.” He threw his hands up sarcastically. “Where are you taking me?”

“No more questions,” she said as her thumb cocked the hammer.

“Ohh,” Reno said real big. “Dramatic gun cock. Nice.”

She smirked and said, “Wraith?”

The Albino answered, “Yes, Trix?”

“Shut him up.”

He smiled. “Gladly.” His hand reached inside his jacket and withdrew a stun gun.

Reno said, “Now wait a min—” His words were cut off when the gun was jammed into his side. Lightning arced through his body, singed his nerves, and made his muscles convulse. Consciousness slipped away as his brain shut down and the world dissolved to black.

He woke up with a splitting headache, unaware of how much time had passed or where he was. His hands gripped the arm rests of a ratty chair and his eyes opened. He had been transported from the speeding car to a decayed hotel room, abandoned to rot, with peeling walls and dirty, musty-smelling furniture.

“This feels really familiar,” he said, but immediately winced. Thinking brought back an aftershock of electricity.

“The Matrix,” a familiar voice said.

Reno looked up. Sitting across from him in a burgundy leather chair was Rodney. He was full-on Lawrence Fishburne with a long black coat and smooth, shaved head. His eyes were invisible behind circular mirrored glasses.

Rodney added with a sharpened smile, “1999.”

Reno tried to get up, but the Samoan was standing next to the chair. The big mitt came down on Reno’s shoulder and shoved him back down. His temper flared but the pounding hammers in his skull beat him into submission.

With violence currently out of the question, he grit his teeth and said, “What the fuck is your people’s obsession with movies?”

Rodney put his hands together. “People say art imitates life. We believe the opposite is much more true.”

“Clearly,” Reno said. “It’s like you guys just enjoy ripping off shitty action movies. What’s a matter, no good ideas of your own?”

“We have ideas,” Rodney said, somewhat annoyed.

Reno pointed. “Name one.”

“How’s this,” he said with an air of confidence. “You are going to get yourself arrested and thrown in prison.”

Reno laughed. “That’s like twenty movies.”

Rodney said, “No it isn’t.”

“Gee, let me think.” With an eye roll, Reno started counting them off. “Face/Off, the Joker in the Dark Knight, and let’s not forget about Leo in the faaaaakin DEPARTED—”

Rodney commanded Reno’s silence when he revealed the remote device in his hand. He held it aloft as a smile, razor thin, curled the corner of his lips.

He said, “The difference, Mr. Nevada, is that none of those characters in those movies had bombs planted next to their carotid artery.”

Reno reached to the side of his neck. He could feel the warmth generated by the activated implant. His eyes widened briefly, before narrowing into hateful slits.

The leather creaked as Rodney leaned back. The device was disarmed and returned to his pocket. “You are going to get yourself arrested. I don’t care how.”

Reno had to ask. “Why?”

“Francis,” Rodney started. “He’s in Rikers. We believe certain forces are going to make an attempt on his life. He needs a bodyguard.”

“For fucks sake.” Reno’s face went into his hand. “It doesn’t work that way. Trust me. I get taken to the local precinct, I stay there until they kick me. I’d have to do something severe enough to get moved to Rikers…and even then, it could take a week for me to get sent there.”

“We have people in place,” Rodney assured him. “If you are arrested, you will be in Rikers in a matter of hours.”

“Of course you do,” Reno said with a sigh.

“Cheer up, Mr. Nevada,” Rodney said with another smile that could cut glass. “If you do your job and protect Francis, we will see to it that whatever charges you incur will not be prosecuted. You will be released and your record expunged.”

“Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you.”

Rodney said, “You are too valuable to leave locked up. We have plans for you, Mr. Nevada. Big plans.”

Reno made a face. “Great. Just great. How much time do I have?”

Rodney extended his left arm, exposing a thousand-dollar watch. He looked at the timepiece and, after a moment of silent contemplation, gave the answer.

“Ten minutes.”

Reno looked at him sideways. “You’re kidding.”

“Nine minutes and fifty-six seconds. Fifty-five. Fifty-four.” Rodney’s eyes lifted from the watch to Reno. “I don’t need to explain what happens if time runs out.”

Reno burst out of the chair and exited the room. He darted down the hallway, passing the Wraith and Trix. Their laughs chased him into the stairwell and down the four flights of rickety stairs. At the bottom, he shouldered his way through an emergency exit and stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

His hands went to his knees and he doubled over to catch his breath. His eyes darted around, trying to get his bearings. He saw the Statue of Liberty on a parked car’s license plate. He was still in the city, thankfully.

He started running. Adrenaline churned through his system, burning through the alcohol in his blood like an all-consuming flashfire. At the end of the block, he came upon a small group of friends. He grabbed one of them, a twenty-something white kid with a backwards Yankee cap, by the shoulders and shook him.


They didn’t argue. They didn’t question. Maybe it was the sweat pouring off Reno’s face, or the mad stare in his eyes. He must have looked like a drug-fueled maniac on the prowl for sugary snacks to tweak his buzz.

“That way,” one of the other kids said, pointing up the block. “There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts. Three blocks.”

“PERFECT,” Reno said and took off running, all knees and elbows, in the pointed direction. Crosswalk signs were ignored as he burned through intersections. He made good time, but by his estimation he probably only had a minute or two left when he arrived at Dunkin’.

Sure enough, there was a cop car parked out front and he could see two unis inside at a table. He galloped across the street and jumped onto the hood of the cop car. The alarm sounded as he got two his feet and climbed on top of the roof. The metal dented and buckled under his weight as he stepped over the lightbar.

The cops came running out of the shop.

“Get the fuck down,” one of the officers ordered. Both were reaching for their firearms.

Reno jumped off to the sidewalk and held his hands up. “You know, I heard the NYPD was full of pussies afraid to fight. Boston cops don’t hesitate to throw down.”

Their hands eased off their guns. “Look at him,” the cop on the left said. “He must be high.” His partner reached for a pocket on his belt and unsnapped it. He removed his pepper spray and said, “Fuck this asshole.”

Moments later, Reno laid in the back of the cruiser, hands zip-tied behind his back, as it rushed through the streets with lights spinning and siren howling. His eyes were swollen and watery. His nose ran and snot was smeared across his face. His entire face was on fire and it hurt to breathe.

He mumbled, “Tell Rodney I made it.”

A different corrections officer escorted Reno down a long passageway with numerous iron doors on either side, all of which were open. Most of them were empty, but a few inmates stood at the bars watching the two men walk past, or were sitting on their beds reading.

Reno said, “Where’s everyone?”

“The Yard,” the officer said. He was a short latino with thick, black hair and a heavy brow. “Or working. Some also go to school during the day. Here’s you. Number 52.” He unlatched Reno’s cuffs and removed them. “Rodney says to behave, do your job, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Reno rubbed his wrists and said, “You work for Rodney?” When he turned back, he saw his iPod wrapped in the wire of the earbuds and a charger in the officer’s hand.

“Take it,” he said. “But don’t let the other C.O.’s catch you with this shit or it’s your ass.”

As the officer walked away, Reno quickly stuffed the iPod into his pockets. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. These assholes really do have connections.

Reno walked into his cell. The ten-by-ten foot enclosure was all cold concrete and stainless steel fixtures. To his left was a squat toilet surmounted by a sink. Above the fixture and bolted into the wall was a mirror made of polished metal. To his right, a set of concrete slabs extended from the wall, one above the other, with thin mattresses covering them. The top bunk appeared well used, with a few personal effects decorating a small shelf built into the adjoining wall.

On the bottom bunk, the mattress was freshly made with a thin blanket and a foam pillow. There was a toothbrush and paste, a stick of deodorant, a Gideons’ bible, and a pamphlet of prison rules and guidelines.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “It’s only temporary, they said.” Sure it is, he then thought sarcastically. A sickening feeling came over him. He walked over to his reflection in the mirror. Anger flashed in his iron eyes. He pounded the image with a closed fist, leaving several dents in the finish.

“Hey,” someone shouted behind him.

Reno swung around.

There, leaning against the bars, was Francis Ford Cuppola—gut stretching out his orange jumpsuit, jowls covered in a gray beard, hair hidden beneath a black do rag.

“That’s my mirror—” Francis stopped and adjusted his glasses. “—wait a minute. You look familiar. Are you from D Block? I told that foreign chicky-chow mein devil that he’d have his Jon Snow Pop! Figure in a week. No sooner!”

Reno stepped over to Francis and jabbed a finger in his chest. “You fucking know who I am. You’re the reason I’m in here.”

“Such anger,” Francis yelped. “Such violence! You must be from A Block—”

Reno interrupted. “I’m Reno Nevada. I’m here to protect you. Rodney sent me.”

“Rodney,” Francis said wide-eyed. He snapped his fingers. “You’re our guy in Fight 2 Win. The inside man, as it were. Why would he send you? I don’t need protection. I’m the rudest streetwise professor in this joint! Gangsta number one!”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“I’m a man who knows how to get things,” Francis explained.

“Han Solo,” Reno said quietly and took a step back.

With a head shake, Francis said, “More like Red from Shawshank Redemption. Anyway, it appears we are roommates.” He circled the cell with his eyes, then held out his hands. “Nice digs, eh?”

“Nice digs? It’s a fucking prison cell.”

“Could be worse,” Francis said as he strolled in. “Being my roommate has its privileges. If there’s anything you need, you just let me know. I can get most anything.”

Reno plopped down on the bottom bunk. He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “Rodney made me get thrown in prison because he said someone was going to kill you. You’re telling me I’m in here for no fucking reason?”

“Listen, bubale,” Francis said as he unzipped the front of his jumper. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re in good hands in here. I’ll make sure the bull queers leave you alone. Unless of course you’re into that sort of thing.”

Reno lifted his head. “No, that’s okay—what the fuck are you doing?” When his eyes lifted, he saw Francis sitting on the toilet with his jumpsuit and underwear around his ankles.

“I gotta go,” Francis said and held out his hand. “Could you grab me one of my magazines off my bed? Let’s go with Ebony. I think this is going to be a rough one.”

Reno stared at him.

Francis stared back, waiting.

Reno raised up like a petulant child and faced the top bunk. He fished the right magazine out of a pile of them and handed it off to Francis. Then he sat back down on the bed, swung his legs out, and laid down.

Francis leafed through the magazine and said, “Thanks. I think I might be dehydrated. I need some electrolytes.”

Reno unwound the earbuds from his iPod and slipped one in each ear. He scrolled down the list of songs and hit play on Riot in Cellblock Number Nine by the Blues Brothers. The classic blues riff kicked in. The vocals got busy. Reno closed his eyes and lost himself in the wails of saxophones and horns.
MELEE ROLE-PLAYS / The Universal Way
« Last post by Tommy Stone on February 03, 2018, 08:16:38 PM »
The scene opens to a sunny shot of two palm trees, which a rather classy fade in, the scene transitions to a man screwing around on his phone in some sort of corporate office. The big chair across from him looms over him with a shadow, blocking out the Florida sun and all the vitamin D that entail from it. The man takes a sip from a coffee mug sitting on the desk, a rather impressive mahogany black desk for that matter.

"Great, more wack jobs..."

The man lets out a comically loud groan as the door behind him opens.

"Mr. Stone, so glad you could join me today."

"But of course bossman."

The voice behind him lurches on to the screen. The man off screen is rather short, and round. But sporting a swanky looking business suit. The man in the swanky suit makes his way to the imposing chair, and takes a seat. Stone, who still hasn't looked up from his phone, snaps to attention as the business man tries to move his cup of coffee. Stone quickly yanks it up, holding the phone in one hand and the coffee cup in the other.

"Now Mr. Stone, do you know why we scheduled this appointment today?"

"It's crossed my mind a few times."


The man pulls out a memo from his desk, on the front of it in large black letters are "F2W". The rest of the contents are blurred for legal reasons.

"Oh, that."

"Now Mr. Stone why would we receive something like this? It says you've signed a contract with this organization, Mr. Stone might I remind you that you are property of Universal Studios Resort. This could warrant breach of contract and end with an absolute end to your employment with us."

"It's not really a contract it's more..."

Tommy takes a moment to think while taking a sip of coffee, he finally puts his phone away as he places the coffee cup back on the desk and folds his hands.

"It's a partnership! You know how Disney has that swank deal with just about half the companies in the world? I thought I'd increase my network and make my professional umbrella just that much bigger."

"I'm getting a lot of buzz word Mr. Stone."

"No, no, not at all! Listen I got word from a buddy of mine in the business that this place is hot property. The stock in this place is practically golden... so I reached out using my connections and set up a little deal between the two of us. Very lucrative, we get like 80% of the merchandising rights. Plus they feed us an ample amount of competitors to fight, it's a win/win."

The man in the chair takes another look at the contract, before shaking his head again. A look of stoic disinterest is growing more prevalent on his face as Tommy looks back at his phone.

"These... competitors that we've seen are hardly the sort of characters we want in our parks."

"Sure they aren't Shrek or the Blues Brothers, but people want variety when they go on vacation you know? They want to see things they haven't seen before, see things that they can't see at home. You know they say hospitality is the business of intangible assets right? Just look at the parks, minus gift shops and food, what do we sell? Entertainment and memories!"

Tommy drops the phone to look at the business man, who still has a look of iron on his face.

"Besides I've seen the Q2 reports, while Disney was at capacity during peak week, we will flying just fine weren't we? We need to get these people back, remember when Harry Potter world opened? For the first time since the 90s we beat Magic Kingdom! We beat the shit out of the mouse, that other... wrestling company left and there is a gap to fill."

"The only gap you need to fill is the dead zone between Harry Potter world and Seuss Land."

"And that's what I'm doing!"

Still skeptical over the entire thing, the business man eyeballs the contract looking for any and all loopholes.

"And what about the dates you are away, it says here that you will have to wrestle in places outside our domain."

"They broadcast it to us, for free, we play it in the bars on City Walk. See I'm thinking twenty steps ahead boss."

"Well, for now I suggest that you tread lightly Mr. Stone. At UVSRO, we strive to give our guests that most memorable experience that they can, if for whatever reason you choose to go against that grain, not only will you be fired, but blacklisted in the entertainment industry, am I clear."

"Crystal, Mr... what was your name again?"

"You don't need to know that."

And with that, the man signals for Tommy to leave the room. Tommy picks up his mug of coffee and leaves, glad to just make it out with his skin intact. The screen fades to black as Tommy pulls out his phone, walking out of camera view.

The scene opens to the funstastic world of Universal Studios! The crowds of people all look happy and rather hot as the Florida sun beats down on them. You can almost smell the sweat and sunscreen. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the crowd is Tommy Stone. Tommy is throwing fliers at people, his own form of "marketing".

"Come on folks! Come see the new spectacular show sweeping the land! f2W wrestling! Admission is free with a valid park ticket! Find us right next to Posidon's Fury! You gotta pass us to get to Harry Potter Land!"

Tommy drops the remainder of the flyers on the ground, he takes a sip from his water bottle, probably the first water he's drank in years. The Florida sun has a way of bringing out the most desperate actions in men of course.

"I was a god damn world champion at one point, now I'm begging people to come see me in the opening match. Florida's Finest is stuck fighting a ninja and whatever the fuck Angelo is. I've fought in a prison, a mental hospital, the best stadiums in the world... but this gonna be a first. I've got to come out of the gate swinging with this one, I don't think the big wigs up in the head office are gonna be too happy with their hottest new property underselling. I'm afraid I'm gonna get the Jaws treatment if this doesn't go well. "The Universal Way" they call it, three days of orientation just to be able to wrestle in the park, some bullshit if you ask me."

He sits down on a bench overlooking the giant lake in the middle of Universal Studios, the statue of chief wiggum lurking in the background. Tommy whips out his sunglasses, the sun getting to be too much for his eyes.

"Spent the majority of my life looking at this sun, always looking to the sky."

Letting out a deep sigh after his attempt at being deep.

"I wonder if this is how people see me, just one big star up in the sky that's unobtainable for the average man. The bar that is just set too high."

A disgusting smirk grows on his face, he rubs his chin, scratching the 5 o'clock shadow in the most manly way he could.

"Is this how Sybyl and Angelo view Florida's Finest? I mean what a run of bad luck they must be on. I know Sybyl had his first match already, but I mean really he was fighting a bunch of no named punks. No this time he has to face the man himself... and Angelo. He's gotta have it lurking in the back of his mind that Tommy Stone has beaten him before, that he doesn't possibly have a chance against me. Which means I gotta be extra careful that he doesn't try and pull a fast one on Florida's Finest and just pin Angelo."

The beginning bars of All Star by Smash Mouth is heard coming from somewhere, Tommy reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He holds it up after investigating the number to his ear.

"Snuggle Bunny! How are you?"

That disgusting smirk fades fast from Tommy's face, the voice on the other end is just barely too quiet to hear.

"Dearest I signed the contract as a surprise to you! I thought you'd be so happy that we get free tickets to Universal Studios now!... I know a season pass would have done the same thing but we get discounts!..."

Tommy hunches over as he absorbs the verbal ass chewing he's currently receiving. The people walking by whisper amongst themselves as forms of expletives can obviously be heard on that end.

"Dearest, I've got this, besides it's not like we have much of the choice. Florida's Finest is at the top of his game! I'm even drinking water like I told you, already down 3 bottles today!"

This was a lie, he had only drank about a quarter of a bottle, the sip he had taken at the beginning of the segment.

"Helena it's gonna be ok! Just calm down."

Having just committed the carnal sin of all relationships, Tommy puts his hand on his head as his wife just yells louder.

"I know I should have run it by you, but it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission, you know?"

Helena got quiet, also never a good sign.

"I get it, you're worried."

Tommy tugs on his knee.

"I'm not exactly young anymore, but I'm like a fine wine, I'm only gonna keep getting better."

This was another lie, only through an extensive use of painkillers can Tommy function as a wrestler.

"Just give it some time, you're gonna love this, plus whenever you get time off we can go dick around the theme parks, ok?"

Tommy looks on as the flyers scatter in the wind, Tommy lets out a small smile as he hangs up the phone. The scene once again fades to black as Tommy continues drinking coffee, as the hot Florida sun shines brightly off the center of the lake.

The scene cuts to Tommy Stone standing in a ring, the sights and sounds of Universal are blurred and muted as the camera focuses clearly on him. The ring itself has the UV logo all over the place, with F2W being seen in small print in the corner. Tommy is in full ring gear as the blurred faces of tourist pass by him. Tommy points to one of the turnbuckles, which lets out a small firework, Tommy blows on his finger as if shooting a gun. Tommy walks to the corner of the ring where his coffee mug is, he takes a sip and is handed a microphone.

"You see that? Nothing but the best!"

One of the speakers for the microphone temporarily cuts out, only to quickly be fixed as Tommy pauses, only continuing after being given the thumbs up.

"The finest ladies and gentleman! Whenever F2W comes to Universal that's what you can expect! The finest action, the finest entertainment, and the finest wrestler in the world! Come witness the extravaganza that can only be seen at Universal Studios Orlando! Come witness the greatest ass kicking this side of I-4! I feel bad for my opponents I really do, Florida's Finest is no ordinary fighter! I've got the ability to come at ya through every single angle, I've got more moves then the dictionary! I've been around the world and back and I've won just about every single title I wanted to, but we'll come back to me, let's talk about my opponents!"

Tommy is handed a small notecard from a man in a universal studios T-shirt.


*Off mic* "Why the hell am I reading this?"

The man shrugs at Tommy, who shakes his head and lets out a huff.

"It seems that they want me to alert you the Incredible Hulk coaster is down for maintenance."

Tommy rips up the card and takes another sip of coffee.

"AS I WAS SAYING, about my opponents. Angelo looks like a scary son of a bitch, I actually had to google him on my phone before I came out here tonight, not too much on him, but I found a picture and by God that man needs to get out in the sun more. Seriously he just looks angry, that's not good for the health man! Good thing we're in beauty Orlando where he can soak up all the rays he wants, maybe go meet some of the beautiful Florida girls we have around here, sure they're crazy as shit, but they look good."

A passerby flips off Tommy, who replies by returning the hand gesture.

"See, that's just the way us Floridian's great each other. Hell Angelo why not just lay back and let all your worries fade away, I mean you're gonna be laying down anyways after I beat your ass into the ground. While you're down there just stay there, maybe then you won't look like someone just pissed in your cereal."

Tommy runs his hand through his head, mentally refreshing himself.

"And now for the matter of Sybyl, who to be frank, is trying WAY too hard to live the whole "dark and mysterious" gimmick. Listen pal you ain't fooling any of us, I know underneath that mask and mysterious act that you're just another two bit wrestler with a third bit act. Didn't you lose to me way back in the day? Back in Brutal Force? Yeah..yeah... see I remember, your ass was lurking around the ashes after the arena burnt to the ground. When we get into the ring it's gonna be the same result."

Once again, a man in a universal shirt hands him a notecard. Tommy struggles not to take it, but gives in.

"It appears the Hulk ride is back up!"

*Off mic* "Dude it's been 5 minutes."

The man shrugs again, this time Tommy doesn't even bother ripping up the card, just dropping it in the ring.

"Boys it's just simple tactics! I've got the home field advantage, I know the turf, the layout of the land, I know where to park, which trust me is gonna be the biggest issue you guys have. What's gonna happen when those two have to step out into the sun? This isn't an abandoned theme park, this isn't a casino, baby this is 90 degree, packed as hell, as humid as a sauna Florida! Do you see that puddle?"

Tommy points to a small puddle outside the ring, the camera zooms in on it.

"Someone just dropped that ice cream, not only do you have to fight that, but this entire theme park can be our arena! We may start off in the ring, but it can end up anywhere! How are you gonna take getting suplexed into a roller coaster? It's gonna suck dude, but you know what? Come on down boys, let me show you the Universal Way! Let me show you the kind of experience that you can only have once in a while, the experience of getting your ass kicked by Florida's Finest Tommy Stone."

He takes one last sip of coffee, he turns the mug upside down, showing it's all out.

"Gentlemen, you will be the stepping stone for me, that first cobble step to the top of F2W. My shoulder's been awfully cold lately, and that Melee Championship looks awful nice. Now I don't know about all the movers and shakers around here, but I do know one thing, that they need to watch out for Florida's Finest, because once I set my sights on something, it's damn near impossible to stop me from getting it."

Tommy makes a belt motion around his waist, Tommy drops the microphone and rolls out of the ring, as "Alpha Dog" by Fall Out Boy plays in the outro, before the Universal Studios logo appear on screen.
« Last post by Angelo on February 02, 2018, 12:34:03 PM »
Fade in.

A loud thud followed by a groan.


And another.

And another.

The sounds of a chain weaving and clanging against wooden beams.

Inside the basement of Salvatore’s Casino is all cold, unforgiving cement. Blood stains are plentiful on both the floor and the walls. It's quiet. The only sound now heard is an almost rhythmic drop of water emanating from a leaky pipe, onto the cement floor. The sound of dress shoes clicking on the cement floor begin. They get louder and louder until we see Angelo Salvatore into the frame. His facial expression leaves little to the imagination. He is in a foul mood. His elegant Armani suit jacket is littered with blood stains. He is breathing heavy as he looks down…

At his victim. At a man, soaked in blood. Chains cuffed around his wrists and ankles, which extend back to the cement wall behind him. His head is slung over. Angelo grabs ahold of his hair with a gloved hand, lifting the man’s head up. His eyes are in the back of his head. Angelo releases it.

“That's an...interesting training method.”

A voice from the background pops up. Angelo smirks as he turns to face him.

“Franco.” His brother, as well as co-owner of Salvatore’s.

“Strange seeing you down here. I thought you made it clear, long ago, about your feelings for our true business here.”

Angelo’s voice was dipped in condescension. Perhaps there were some underlying unresolved issues between the two brothers.

“Well.” Franco began, as he started towards his brother, grabbing a glass of bourbon that was conveniently placed on a table near the door. As Franco eased closer to his brother, he emptied the glass of bourbon into his mouth, and smiled.

“I did. However, that was before you decided to shine a new light on Salvatore’s.”

Of course, Angelo knew exactly what his brother was speaking of. F2W would undoubtedly bring spotlight to Salvatore’s. Especially with Angelo allowing fights to come directly to the Casino when he was involved. None of sat well with Franco. Angelo seemed to dismiss his brother’s concern. He shrugged at his comment and walked over to the nearby table which his bottle of Bourbon stood. He poured himself a glass.

“So, who was he?”

Angelo took a sip of the bourbon.


Franco shook his head. His brother did like to play games.

“This poor sap over here. The one you've nearly beat to death?”

Angelo placed his glass down. He looked over to his brother. He wasn't pleased at the question.

“Like I said. You didn't want any part of what we are really doing here. If you've made that very clear throughout the years, Franco. So, whomever that man is, and the reason he is here?”

He edged even closer.

“Is none of your concern.”

The two brothers engage in an intense staredown. Neither man blinks. Although, it isn't long before Angelo notices a bead of sweat trickle down the right cheek of Franco’s face. Of course, this insights a sarcastic smile from Angelo.

“Nervous, little brother?”

Franco hastfully wipes the sweat from his face. He doesn't back down from his older brother, however.

“You're not going to intimidate me, Angelo. I have as much a right to here as you do. I will not allow your ego be our downfall.”

After a few intense moments, Angelo grins wide.

“Brother! Of course not! We are in this together! What mine is yours, what yours is mine! Are need to think as one, Franco.”

Franco looked relieved. He may have said he wasn't the least bit intimidated by Angelo, but they both knew that wasn't the truth.

“Salvatore’s Casino isn't as profitable as it once was.”

Franco was blunt. He sounded concerned. It was their livelihood. As the Casino went, so did their lives. They both understood this.

“I know, brother. I know. I'm taking care of it.”

This time, Angelo didn’t sound sarcastic this time. Actually, he sounded concerned.A knock on the door followed. Franco narrowed his gaze at his brother.

“Angelo…” His voice trailed off temporarily. His tone lowered. “Who is at the door?”

Angelo lowered his gaze. It was as if he couldn't admit to his brother who was at the door. A look of betrayal swept over his facial features. He couldn't even look at Franco. Instead, he looked past him, to the door.

“Come in.”

His tone was flat.

As the door creaked open, Franco turned to see who it is. It was at that moment he realized why Angelo behaved in the manner that he did. That didn't mean he liked it, though. He turned to face his brother, once again.

“You bastard.”

Franco was seething. Whomever stood in the doorway, it was clear that Franco hated the sight of them. Angelo peered down, before suddenly meeting his brother's face. His eyes were apologetic.

“I'm sorry, Franco. I didn't have a choice.”

“Heh, that's funny. That's the first time in my life I recall you saying something, and actually sounding sincere.”

Angelo didn't say anything. He felt terrible. He had betrayed his own family, and he knew it. It looked like Franco was going to say something else, a dark hand clasped his right shoulder tightly.

“Franco, I think it's time you to go.”

Franco didn't say a word at first. He peered over his shoulder. He could plainly see the revolver stuck in the man’s belt. He could take the hint.

“Don't worry. I won't be staying.”

The two men stepped to the side, as Franco stormed off in disgust, slamming the door on his way out. Angelo looked to the pair of large, muscular men before him. He straightened up as he spoke.

“Mark and Stefan Moreaux.”

Again, Angelo’s tone was flat. His ego was gone. These men clearly had something over him.

“I see you have our friend.”

Angelo walks over to the chained up man, with his the Moreaux’s following. Angelo takes a chair over, sitting in front of his prisoner as he seems to be waking. A few groans before Angelo delivers a backhanded slap which seems to catch his attention.

“Good morning, sunshine. Now, let's not make this any more difficult, or painful, than it has been.

What are the Aztecs up to?”

He looks Angelo dead in the eye, and then…

“Fuck you.”

Angelo sits back with a grin on his face. He seems amused.

“Very well.”

He turned to the Moreaux brothers, with a look of indignation.

“Do as you may.” He said with a sigh, as he shook his head. “Some people just insist on being difficult.”

All three men nodded as Angelo exited the room, the door slamming behind him, emphatically.

Later that day…

Angelo Salvatore was finally in a quiet place. With so much constantly going on in the Casino(and sometimes under it), it was nice to get away. Even if “away” was merely one storey above it all. His luxurious skybox-inspired office overlooked everything. Luckily he had blinds over that window most of the time. A large potted plant sat in the right corner of the room, near the door. On the left side was a leather couch. Other than that, it was fairly empty except for his large mahogany desk which sat in the center of the room.

Angelo sifted through some papers that seemed scattered across his desk. One by one he sorted through, making three separate piles. It was at this time that a hard knock on the door was heard. Without bothering to look up, Angelo absentmindedly answered “Come in”. The door slowly creaked open and a man in a black suit entered. He carried a large envelope in his right hand. The mere arrival of this man seemed to pique Angelo’s interest. He set aside his papers nearly immediately as he stood to shake the man’s hand, and offered him a seat, which he obliged to.

“Good evening, Grayson. So nice to see you! Would you like a drink?”

Angelo already had his hand clasped around the office phone before Grayson raised a hand to say he would pass on the drink this time. Angelo smiled and nodded. “Very well. What have you got for me?”

Grayson opened up his folder and slid a picture in front of Angelo. As Angelo looked down at it, Grayson began.

“Tommy Stone.”

Angelo slowly craned his neck forward, meeting Grayson’s gaze.

“Tommy is excessively experienced. He has had a plethora of title reigns. So, he knows how to get the job done, without a doubt. That was under a traditional wrestling setting. So, with the incredibly unpredictable setting that Fight 2 Win offers, I believe that this will only prove to make Tommy Stone more dangerous. Additionally, the Universal Studios venue is due to Stone’s new contract with Universal. So, in this situation, Stone has the “home field advantage”.

Angelo seems to be becoming increasingly irritated. A fact that is not lost on Grayson. He clears his throats before continuing.

“There is one caveat, however.”

Grayson smirked, knowing that would pique Angelo’s interest. He was correct, as Angelo raised his right eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Is right knee has been documented as weak. Injuries that never held. It is, without a doubt, a grand weakness. Something you can exploit and use to your advantage.”

Angelo smirks. Grayson places a new photo on top of Tommy’s.


Nothing follows.

“Is that all?”

Grayson shakes his head slowly. He seems hesitant.


“Well...n-no. No.”

He adjusts in his chair. Angelo seems to be becoming impatient as he begins to tap his fingers on the desk. This only serves to intensify Grayson’s anxiety in this situation.

“This man is a bit of an...enigma. There a lot of holes in his story. A lot of question marks.”

“What am I paying you for, Grayson?”

He hands his head for a moment.

“I know sir. The thing is, it's as if the answers to the questions about this man simply do not exist. He seems to have an obsession about “the truth”, whatever that may be. He is extremely private and seems to have covered up his tracks in any and all dealings. Stylistically, he isn't the most experienced fighter. He certainly doesn't hold the experience that Tommy Stone does.

As well, he seems to have affiliation with Cuppola.”


Grayson shook his head. Again, he seemed hesitant.

“N-No sir.”

“Damnit, Grayson.”

“There is certainly more than what appears on the surface.”

It seemed that Angelo had heard quite enough.

“You are excused, Grayson.”

Initially, it appeared as Grayson wanted to object, but ultimately he said nothing. He stood, shook Angelo’s hand and went to the door. As he pulled the door open, two more entered,

Mark and Stefan Moreaux. They didn't look to be in a good mood. Angelo looked visibly nervous at their presence.

“Gentlemen.” He motioned for them to sit. They happily obliged.

“How was your little meeting with our Aztec friend?”

Angelo nervously smiled as the Moreaux brothers sat. As he glanced over he could still see blood on their hands. He nervously laughed.

“He didn't know anything.” Stefan remarked. Angelo shifted in his chair anxiously.

“Oh...I-I see.”

The expression on Angelo’s face told the story; no matter how well he fought to conceal it. It didn't matter regardless, as they know the same thing he did.

“Clearly, you had bad intel, Mr. Salvatore.”

Angelo stared at the two brothers nervously.

“Well maybe…”

They cut him off.

“He's dead.”

They let that sink in for a moment. Angelo looked around nervously. Trying his mightiest to come up with an explanation.

“I hope we don't need to remind you of the tremendous importance of what we are trying to accomplish her in Nevada, Mr. Salvatore.”

Angelo shook his head feverishly.

“No, no of course not. I-”

Again, Stefan raised his hand to cut off Angelo.

“Of course we don't. You have a fight coming up this month against Tommy Stone and Sybyl. This should be your focus for the time being.”

Angelo looked confused.

“You know about my contract with Fight 2 Win?”

The Moreaux brothers laughed, and even exchanged glances.

“Who do you think got that contract finalized? Who made the call? You have the Moreaux Family to thank for your newest payday.”

Angelo still had trouble piecing it together. It was noticeable that he was attempting to figure out in the confines of his own mind.


“There are several reasons, actually. Not all them need your direct knowledge. But know this.”

Stefan leans in closer, across the table.

“Your obedience and your success are tied very loosely together. As a matter of fact, you better be laser focused on your opponent's in your Fight 2 Win debut. We will not tolerate failure, Mr. Salvatore.”

“So...what? If I lose, you're going to kill me?”

Again, the brothers chuckled to one another.

“No, no. Of course not. We will merely see to it that you wish you were dead. Be prepared, Mr.Salvatore. And next time? You better see to it that your intel isn't false.”

The two brothers stand as they stare down Angelo still. Stefan shakes his hand but Angelo doesn't seem the least bit comfortable with the situation. As Stefan and Mark leave, Angelo is quick to teach over to his office phone.

“Yeah...Franco? Yeah. I know. I know.

We've got a problem.”
FED NEWS AND NOTES / Melee 6 Segment/Match Sign-Up
« Last post by Angelina Altomonte on February 01, 2018, 11:15:43 AM »
Respond below and thou shalt be given the thing thouest askest for!

Or DM me and we can talk!

Prologue - Staff

Intro - Staff

Segment 1 - Open

Opening Match
Tommy Stone Versus Angelo Salvatore Versus Sybyl
To Be Held at Universal Studios!

Writer -

Segment 2 - Open

Match 2
Alfie Tenner Versus Reno Nevada
To Be Held in Prison :-O?!?!

Writer - Open

Segment 3 - Open

Match 3
Zack Fantana Versus Natalie King
To Be Held at The Old Whale

Writer - Open

Segment 4 - Open

Main Event
Angelica Vaughn Versus The Blackstar (c)
Melee Championship
To Be Held at the Cincinnatti Hit Girls Stadium

Writer - Open

Segment 5 - Open

Epilogue - Staff
« Last post by Angelina Altomonte on February 01, 2018, 11:02:24 AM »
Show Prompt: Melee 5 was the ultimate display of power, as Angelina Altamonte excluded the actual fights of actual roster members in favor of hired talent to fight inside of a more standard wrestling ring in front of an adoring crowd. It's reasonable to assume Melee 6 will be something similar!

Can the fighters of Fight 2 Win expect more of the same for Melee Episode 6? Are they doomed to fight but never have their fights see the light of day? How should they respond knowing their efforts go uncelebrated?

Is there some way to rise up against the overlords?! Is Francis Ford Cuppola and his gang really finished, with the most confusing man in professional fighting locked away behind bars to possible be shivved or shanked?!

Tune in to find out!!!!: Sunday March 4, 2018
Roleplay Deadline: Wednesday February 28, 2018 @ 10 AM EST.
Segment Deadline: Friday March 2, 2018 @ 10 AM EST.

Opening Match
Tommy Stone Versus Angelo Salvatore Versus Sybyl
To Be Held at Universal Studios!

Match 2
Alfie Tenner Versus Reno Nevada
To Be Held in Prison :-O?!?!

Match 3
Zack Fantana Versus Natalie King
To Be Held at The Old Whale

Main Event
Angelica Vaughn Versus The Blackstar (c)
Melee Championship
To Be Held at the Cincinnatti Hit Girls Stadium

Card Subject to Change
MELEE EPISODES / Melee 5 - "The Satanic Verses"
« Last post by Angelina Altomonte on January 31, 2018, 11:47:43 AM »

Jake had skulked through the seamiest underbelly New York City had to offer after the night Francis Ford Cuppola got arrested. He slipped out the back door before the police could see he was there, and looked at the world with new, shell-shocked and jaded eyes. By the time he’d mustered the courage to confront the woman undoubtedly responsible for Francis being framed by phony evidence, he’d lost a shoe, ripped a pant leg and missed the anniversary of being dumped by his ex-girlfriend.

Jake rode the elevator up to the top floor of the Fight 2 Win office building, to her office in tattered clothing to match his shattered optimism about the world and reeking of urine and fecal matter from all the dark corners he’d been hiding in. The elevator doors dinged open and he marched down the hallway with barely a notice of the office staff turning up their nose at the whiff of him. At her door he didn’t bother knocking, it was long past the time for politeness. He was through being her patsy, her mole, or her whipping boy. He shoved into the door and found Angelina Altamonte already in a meeting. Her glare deflated half the courage he’d just mustered.

“You stink.” Jake stood in the office doorway looking from her to the man seated beside her, both of them seated before a wide projector screen stuck on still-frame. He crossed his arms awkwardly.

Her glare turned to a casual, victorious smirk.

“No matter. Get cleaned up, Jake. I want you to meet my new friend, Gabe Frohman.”

She introduced Jake to the man beside her, who regarded Jake with a lack of enthusiasm. Jake blinked hard.

“G-Gabe Frohman? The Wrestling King of Chicago?”

Gabe Frohman gave a half-smile.

“The same.”

“W-what’s going on?” Jake stammered, looking to Angelina.

“Gabe’s put together the new and improved Melee, Jake. We’re about to screen the premiere before it goes to air on Netflix. You can join us, after you clean up.”

“New and improved?”

“My boy, the product your company has been churning out is sadly not up to the standards Ms. Altamonte demands. So she has hired me to put together the product she does want.”

“It’s Cuppola’s fault.” She added, smirking with a wink at Jake. It made his stomach churn.

“You know you got him arrested, right?” Jake blasted at her. She feigned offense.

“No?! Oh dear. Whatever will we do?” She returned to smirking. “It’s all thanks to you that we got that flea out of our hair, Jake. I can't take all the credit. You led him right into our trap. His little attempt at taking this company over is squashed. The people helping him have scattered to the four winds of who gives a shit. Now we can focus on putting out product to rival the other wrestling companies.”

“I—,” Jake struggled, “I didn’t know you were going to get him actually arrested. You need to fix that. They’re going to lock him up for years with that planted evidence. He'll die in prison!”

“That’s the point, Jake. And, again, I couldn’t have done it without you.” She raised a champagne glass and tipped it graciously at him before taking a sip.

Jake’s heart sunk. Angelina patted the seat beside her.

“Now come on. Get out of those dirty clothes and come and enjoy the show Gabe’s put together.”

“Yes,” Gabe added proudly, “behold Fight 2 Win as Angelina Altamonte intended.”

Jake frowned, standing there as Gabe lifted a remote control and aimed it at the projector. And began the show.

An overhead shot of a massive stadium full of roaring fans! A light show spans the crowd as the cameras get close-ups of some signs fans are holding.








And the camera swoops overhead as the roaring generically awesome wrestling music pounds through the speakers before setting on the announce desk where Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and Ryan Reynolds sit!

DWAYNE JOHNSON: Hello Fight 2 Win fans, I am Nate Hollis!

RYAN REYNOLDS: And this sexy beast right here is BRAD STOKES, BITCHES!

The crowd explodes at the sight of the two movie stars, and we’re treated to our first standing ovation of the night.


And pause. Jake is wearing a bathrobe, sitting on the couch forcing the playback to be paused.


Angelina and Gabe nod in unison with wide smiles.

“We spared no expense.” Gabe smiled.

“What happened to the real Nate Hollis and Brad Stokes.”

Gabe shook his head.

“They’re trapped inside that bomb shelter.” Angelina pointed out. “It would have cost too much to get them out, so we hired some even better replacements.”

Jake frowned as the logic leaped inside his head.

“Doesn’t it cost a fortune just to get Ryan Reynolds and Dwayne Johnson to appear at an event?”

Angelina and Gabe nod in unison with wide smiles.

“We spared no expense.” Gabe smiled.

“This is insane.” Jake found himself standing up, readying a barrage of words. “Wouldn’t it cost more to book named stars then to just keep things as they were?!”

Angelina and Gabe looked seriously at one another, before Angelina leaned forward and eyed Jake.

“Jake, listen. The fed as it was was a joke. Those commentators were a mess. The talent, travelling to different venues may have offered something different, but the reality is: market research and focus testing invariably tells us that people don’t want different. They don’t want novelty. They want excellence when it comes to all the things they’re familiar with. Anything else is scary to the mindless drones who consume this type of product. I’ve never wanted to run a joke fed, Jake. My father designed Fight 2 Win to be the best professional wrestling fed in the business, and instead, due to the circumstances, I’ve been forced to make due with… well, pure shit. I have the backing now. I have the resources, and the connections to finally make the wrestling federation of my dreams, the dreams of my father and then some. I’m not about to waste any more time on bullshit.”

Jake frowned as he watched her speak. Angelina leveled with him,

“Why settle for washed-up has-beens and never-was’, when you can hire premiere talent to run those popular storylines for them?”

“What are you saying?” Jake asked, his entire world shaken to its core.

“I’m saying: sit back, and relax. This show is the beginning of a new start for Fight 2 Win. And you get to be in on the ground floor. Now stop interrupting.”

She grabbed the remote and happily resumed playback.

The standing Ovation continues at the desk. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Ryan “Deadpool and Waiting” Reynolds shake the hands of nearby fans before returning to the broadcast announcer’s table.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Thank you! Thank you folks! As I said, I am Nate Hollis and with me is my stalwart companion--

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Don’t you say it.


The crowd pops.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That’s the single biggest crowd pop that name has gotten in years. And don’t you forget it.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Never. Tonight, folks, as you’re joining us for tonight’s episode of Fight 2 Win’s Melee, we hope you’re buckled in for an evening of wrestling-packed action guaranteed to ignite your imagination and electrify your senses.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): We’re not giving you any of that pussy generic wrestling bullshit the other guys shit onto your television screens and expect you to lap up.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): It’s true. Cutthroat wrestling at it’s finest, Nate. Here we’re not just people pretending to be other people. We are the REAL DEAL, BABY!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): True enough. Tonight we have an array of electrifying matches culminating in what promises to be an epic triple threat match for the Melee Championship between the challengers, Brennan Devlin, The Blackstar and the undefeated champion Natalie King.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): It’s a huge way to end the night to look forward to. Like icing on a cake made of money shots. But first.

Vaughnemous Domination blasts onto the speakers and the crowd is on its feet to see the 5’9 Angelica Vaughn striding out to the top of the ramp. Well, it’s actually not Angelica Vaughn. It’s U.K. Defiant, PROGRESS and CHIKARA wrestling indie darling Millie McKenzie standing at the top of the ramp raising her arms.

“Hold it.” Jake stands once more, putting the playback on pause. Both Gabe Frohman and Angelina Altamonte wearily glance at him. “This is a joke, right?”

They look at him stone-faced.

“That’s not Angelica Vaughn!” Jake exclaims.

“And the guy playing Zack Fantana isn’t Zack Fantana, either. I don't see a problem,” Gabe shrugs.

Jake is incredulous.

“Why the hell not? Those two are superstars!”

“Not according to focus testing and market research,” Angelina intones coldly.

“According to the data, fans enjoy the idea of Zack Fantana and Angelica Vaughn more than they like the actual people.” Gabe added.

“So you just replaced them?!” Jake was at the point of hoarse shouting.

“We’re calling it ‘recast’. These people playing them are far more talented. And money draws in their own right.” Gabe Frohman added.

“But what did you do with the real fighters for Fight 2 Win?"

Jake was met with blank stares.

"You fired them?” He angrily growled missing the half-cocked whimsy of a Francis diatribe right about now.

“Not really.” Angelina sipped from her champagne. Jake looked from her to Gabe in confusion.

“We decided it’d be best to have them on standby, wrestling their little matches in their little venues just in case we do need to call them back up in the event of an injury.”

“They’re still employed?!” Jake was ready to tear his hair out.

“And happily fighting their regularly scheduled matches.” Angelina swirled the champagne inside of her glass, growing bored of Jake’s incredulity and dismay.

“We got in touch with this,” he read off a nearby sheet of paper, “Larry and David. We see a lot of potential in this new promo-cutting technology they've developed, and we’ve already reached out to them about simulating entire matches using the motion capture of the old guard of Fight 2 Win.”

“Does the roster know you’re doing this?” Jake looked ready to storm out. Angelina leaned forward, eyeing him icily.

“You don’t tell the monkeys what the experiment is until after it’s finished and you don’t need them anymore, Jake.” She took another sip, silently commanding him with her glare.

“Now please sit down and stop interrupting the playback. You’re being allowed in at the ground floor of a new era for not just Fight 2 Win, but also the wrestling industry as a whole. Don’t make me regret it, Jake.” She grabbed the remote and resumed playback.

Angelica Vaughn is in the ring, standing and watching the lights begin to dim and pulse at the top of the ramp as “Lucid Dreams” (the Album Version, not any other version) by Franz Ferdinand kicks in and the crowd pops as the highly decorated star of many past promotions struts to the top of the ramp. Zack Fantana, as played by Joey Janela, surveys the crowd through his super cool wrap-around 80’s shades before making his way down the ramp towards the crowd, even stopping near ringside to pretend to give one of the fans his shades but then thinks better of it and continues his way up the ring.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Consummate performers in these two. What a way to start the night.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): And that Angelica Vaughn is one nice piece of ASS.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): It’s what wrestling’s all about, Nate. If I can’t potentially have sex with them, why we even talking, ya know?

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): I’m sure there’s more to it than that.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Leave me to my shallow existence, and I’ll leave you to yours, big man.

Inside the ring, standing in the center, Angelica and Zack eye one another down.


The two of them begin to circle one another before Angelica raises an arm, challenging Zack to a test of strength. When Zack reaches in to meet her, she pulls her hand away to a mild chorus of cheers from the crowd.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Nicely done there. The old ‘pretend to shake my hand and instead swipe it through my hair making you look foolish', gag. Love that gag. It's among my favorite gag reflexes.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): It’s called a test of strength, Brad.

The two circle once more, again with Angelica Vaughn offering a test of might with Zack, and this time their fingers tie up and Angelica manages to twist Zack’s arms around uncomfortably and surprisingly brings him to his knees and then slams the sole of her boot down into his chest! And another kick and another before Zack is downed to the canvas. Angelica leaps up for a leg drop only for Zack to quickly roll out of the way! And the crowd cheers as Zack rises to a knee to stare down Angelica Vaughn.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): This match is huge. These two are fan favorite icons, boasting industry-wide popularity.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Funny they each don’t look like their roster photo.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): [Uncomfortable Laughter] Please don’t break the fourth wall, BRAD.

Angelica and Zack meet up once more, this time with Zack crashing Angelica down to the canvas with a headscissor takedown! He follows it up with a jumping body splash and hooks the leg for a cover!



Kickout for Angelica Vaughn

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): It’ll take more than that to put Angelica Vaughn  down!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That’s the equivalent of canned laughter, ‘Nate’. Don’t pander. No one likes a panderer. Especially Giant Panders.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Don't correct my speech in front of my fans.

Zack raises Angelica up to her feet and gets hit square with a jumping knee right to the chin and Angelica capitalizes with a headlock takedown she transitions into a crossface! Zack squirms and rolls, managed to free himself from her grip before she can lock it in tight. And once more the two of them rise to their feet to stare one another down as the crowd cheers and applauds their efforts.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Literally giving the fans one hell of a show right now, brother!

Angelica and Zack meet up once more, this time Zack swinging Angelica into the ropes and on the rebound he leap frogs her. On the return he aims a leaping side kick that she ducks and swings a back kick that connects and knocks Zack off his feet. She drops an elbow down into his chest and makes the cover!



: A kickout after that ridiculous attempt at a pin.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS):  The Vaughnemous One is never short on effort or heart. And these fans never refrain from letting her know!

The crowd is still on its feet, watching as Angelica Vaughn drags Zack Fantana to his feet, and Zack swings an elbow into Vaughn’s side, knocking her off balance then he swings up a merciless pele kick, is up on his feet and slams down a standing moonsault that pops the crowd!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Fantana with the cover!




: No! So close!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): It could have been closer.

Zack grips Vaughn back up to her feet and Irish whips her towards the corner only for Vaughn to step her way up the ropes and find herself at the top and stuns the crowd, and Zack, as she leaps off and hits him with a leaping thrust kick that blasts Zack backward into the opposite corner!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Stunning kick right there!

And Vaughn is on a roll with the crowd behind her. Vaughn lays into Fantana with an array of kicks to the midsection and chest that has Zack slumping in the corner! And Angelina rushes to get some distance between herself and Zack and then rushes for a bronco buster that Zack gets out of the way of at the last second!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): And the crowd goes wild for that home run!

Zack stumbles to his feet as Angelica Vaughn is stuck in the corner! Zack takes a moment to catch his wind before heaving Vaughn up and SLAMMING her down with a double knee facebreaker and the crowd EXPLODES as Zack rolls her over for the pin!





: She kicked out!!!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t just seen it, but I did just see it, and I’m STILL having trouble believing it!

Zack can’t believe it either! He’s stunned, watching as Vaughn struggles to get to her knees. He moves over to her to grip her up to her feet only to be caught by Vaughn’s mandible claw!!! The crowd erupts as Vaughn has Zack caught off guard as Vaughn forces Zack down to the canvas!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): THIS could be it! Zack has nowhere to go!

In moments Vaughn’s mandible claw has nearly subdued Zack! The ref checks Zack! Lifts Zack’s arm and it drops!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): It’s not looking good for Zack Fantana!

The ref lifts Zack arm once more and once more it drops and the crowd is in a glass case of emotion as the ref raises Zack’s arm once more only this time the arm doesn’t drop!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Zack’s not done!!!!

Angelica Vaughn is shocked! Maintaining the mandible claw as Zack’s arm shakes with a sudden surge of power!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): This is just like every match containing Hulk Hogan ever before he got caught having sex!

Zack’s arm is shaking as Zack is Zacking up, his entire body surging with the power of all the Fantanamaniacs in the crowd! Zack starts to rise up to his feet still  shaking and being awesome. Zack shoots off blow after blow forcing Vaughn to release her what-should-have-been finishing mandible claw and suddenly the two are trading powerful, ring-shaking blows to the crowd’s delight!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): This is the most unrealistic fight ever put to tape.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): The fans are ecstatic!! Electrified!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Just not literally.

Angelica Vaughn and Zack Fantana are going insane with amazing fighting fists of fury, trading blow for blow before both simultaneously rebound off the ropes and meet in the middle with a big boot to each other’s faces! Knocking each other down into a stupor!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): They both look like they’re out cold!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That looked pre-planned.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Wrestling’s not like that, Brad.


The referee stands over Vaughn and Fantana who are both seemingly knocked out cold! The ref begins the count.


: I hope Fantana does the Hulkster surge again.



DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): The fans are behind both of these two 110%!




: Neither competitor is moving!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): This could be it! He said, feigning surprise. Look at these fans eating this farce up.



The referee checkes them both and neither is even conscious!!




The crowd is on its feet in an undecided wave of calamity!

The referee consults with the ring announcer as they slowly bring Vaughn and Fantana around. The Ring Announcer is being played by Michael Bolton for some reason. He stands there with his crazy blonde mullet.

MICHAEL BOLTON: As the result of a double countout, and both competitors being unable to continue… it has been decided by unanimous decision by the highly impartial judges that the winner of this contest…. IS THE FANS!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): The fans win it! The fans win!!!

The fans go nuts.


DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): What a hard earned victory there for the fans! This one was touch and go from the very beginning!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): The fans haven’t even been cleared for active competition!

The crowd is cheering as Michael Bolton continues.

MICHAEL BOLTON: And if each of the fans looks under their chairs…

The fans do…


Another standing ovation.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): And you get a prize! And you get a prize! EVERYBODY GETS A PRIZE!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS):This show has something for everyone!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): It's almost like they planned that to make the show appeal across all demographics!

The arena is an auditory example of pandemonium!

Jake grips the bridge of his nose, once more standing in front of the paused playback screen with Angelina and Gabe Frohman looking at him with annoyed expectation.

“Were you intending on interrupting every match?” Gabe Frohman asks snottily.

“What the heck is going on?! Why did that happen?! You guys are bastardizing these matches!”

“Look,” Angelina said crossly, “focus testing dictated that the popularity of those two is too great to give either of them a loss to one another.”

“So you’re deciding the winners ahead of time?!” Jake asked on his last nerve.

They stared at him blankly.

“Well, how else would we do it?”

Jake blinked in shock.

“I don’t know. Do it how the REAL Fight 2 Win decides wins?! By merit and hard work, with the fighters either winning or losing on their own without you people DECIDING it?!”

Angelina and Gabe blinked at him.

“Yeah. See. The problem with that is I’m good friends with both Millie McKenzie and Joey Janela. I couldn't just LET my friends lose. That's not how this works. We tried to find someone we didn’t like to soak up the loss, but…”

Jake stood there blinking in the mid of what could have been a brain hemmorhage.

“You’re being far too judgemental before you see the entire show, Jake.”

“I don’t need to see the entire show.”

“Don’t you want to see how it ends?” She teased with a wink.

Jake glared. Angelina patted the seat beside her.

“Don’t judge till you’ve seen the whole thing. It’s not that bad, just a little adjustment period and you’ll be back on-board this train. I know this is a challenging experience for you. You were growing attached to that pitiful old man and his gang of cronies, and I’m afraid I’m to blame for it. Think of this as a chance for all of us to start over. Fresh.”

Jake looked mildly assured. Slowly, heaving out heavy sighs, he sat down beside her. She resumed playback.

All four competitors are already in the ring staring at each other. The begin to circle around each other.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Welcome back, Fight 2 Win fans! As we’re set to bear witness to the debut of Reno Nevada and Sybyl in this fatal fourway matchup with Alfie Tenner and Shane Clemmens!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): This match needs more cowbell.




The most inexperienced, Reno Nevada (Chris Ridgeway) finds himself in the middle of the ring. The other three pounce on him. Shane Clemmens, (Colt Cabana) hits him with two elbows until he drops and the three of them stomp him into the mat. He rolls out of the ring and the remaining competitors square each other up.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Reno Nevada has a strong bare-knuckle boxing background, but that’s not exactly great preparation for the world of professional wrestling.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Didn’t Fight 2 Win used to be a little less… um…



DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): What are you trying to say, Brad?

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Nothing. Just that if they’d kept with the original format Reno Nevada would have been right at home.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): You know it’s true.

Alfie Tenner (Shlak), steps back as Sybyl (Jimmy Havoc), stands tall in front of Shane Clemmens. Sybyl spreads his arms open and dares Clemmens to strike. He doesn’t expect the clubbing blow by Alfie Tenner from behind which sends him right into a lariat by Clemmens. Shane keeps moving forward after dropping Sybyl and tries to go for a lariat on Tenner, but Alfie ducks and delivers a right and a left to Clemmens before reaching back and smashing Shane with a lariat of his own.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Alfie Tenner is clearing house right now!

He plays to the crowd in the middle of the ring until he is hit hard by a running missile dropkick by Reno Nevada.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Give it time. You speak too soon every time. Is that in the script?

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Stop breaking the fourth wall, man.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): How much they paying you, Rock?

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who's this 'Rock' character?

As Ryan Reynolds rolls his eyes, Reno takes stock of everyone else on the ground and decides to play to the audience as well. The other three rise to their knees and he goes from body to body delivering kicks to each person and ends the barrage with a kick to the head. He looks around as the fans cheer and pins Sybyl.


Sybyl gets a shoulder up. Reno covers Shane Clemmens and hooks a leg.


Clemmens breaks the pin as well. Reno covers Alfie and hooks both legs .


: He went for all three there!

Sybyl kicks Reno in the head to break the pin. He then hops up and stomps on Reno’s back, then on Tenner’s chest. Shane Clemmens tries to hit him with a rolling elbow but Sybyl hooks it with his own, ducks under, and hits a discus elbow of his own. He tries a pin but Shane is too close to the ropes and he easily reaches up to stop the win.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): These competitors are still in the feeling out process.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That sounds like it would make good commentary in a video game.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That is not the fourth wall.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Well it’s at the perimeter.

Aflie Tenner and Reno Nevada fight on the other side of the ring. Alfie has his guard up and tries to stop the quick striking offense of Reno Nevada. Finally he resorts to rushing Nevada and putting both arms around him. He lands a belly to belly. Reno reels from the pain and Tenner capitalizes on it by kicking him on the back. He sets Nevada up in the corner and works him over with some punches to the midsection and side of the head. He steps back to deliver a kick but is knocked down by the feet of Sybyl who is the victim of Shane Clemmens’ Airplane Spin. Shane sets him down and tries to maneuver the ring. He pinpoints where Sybyl is after some fan directions and then hits him with a Bionic Elbow. He pins.



: A close call there for Sybyl!

But Sybyl kicks out. Shane spots Reno Nevada slumps over in the corner with his hand over his mouth. Clemmens takes his chance and tries to hit a rolling senton on him but Reno moves out of the way at the last second and he crashes against the bottom and middle turnbuckles. Reno enters the ring but is stomped on once again by Sybyl. Reno gets on all fours and Sybyl uses the bottom rope to jump up and stomp his head into the mat. He goes out to get something under the ring and takes out an autographed picture of himself!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): I love it. Take a picture, Sybyl… RIGHT TO HIS SKULL! Ahaha.

He comes back in and holds Reno in a fujiwara armbar with a little pressure. Then he positions the 8 x 10 in between Reno’s fingers and slides it back on the skin. He does it between each finger and the audience cringes for each of the 10 inches he does it in.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Sybyl is viciously papercutting Reno Nevada!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): And that’s not just any papercut! That’s photo paper! Much worse.

Reno gets his arm back and squirms on the ground from the pain. Sybyl bounces off the ropes to finish him off, but Tenner grabs him by the neck and falls to the floor with the hold still applied giving Sybyl some nasty whiplash. He enters the ring to capitalize on the momentum but Shane Clemmens grabs him and hits three snap suplexes in a row.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): The crowd loved that.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): The crowd loves everything. It’s like someone’s paying them to.

Clemmens throws Alfie into the corner then Sybyl to the same corner. Finally he grabs Reno up and throws him to that same corner, staking his three opponents. He runs to the opposite corner and back to hit Reno with a Flying Asshole. He runs back as Reno falls and hits Sybyl with the Flying Asshole. Finally he goes to hit Alfie Tenner with one but Alfie grabs him and throws him off!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): A stunning reversal there by Alfie Tenner!

Alfie then headbutts Shane for the Gypsy Kiss. As Clemmens is dazed Alfie clutches in a full nelson and drops him with the full nelson slam.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Alfie Tenner is making a HUGE impact here tonight!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Where’s his sister? Did they not cast her?


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Have you not seen any of my movies???

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): No, sorry. I was too busy making my own.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Touche. But nice breakage of the fourth wall there, champ.


Sybyl runs up but Reno Nevada blindsides him with a knee to the head. Reno chops him and Alfie comes up and chops him as well. They chop him right to the corner. Alfie tells Reno to stand right in the middle of the ring. He runs at Sybyl and smashes into him with a lariat. Then he grabs an arm and whips him to Reno who strikes him with a Kneesy Does It.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Nice teamwork in a match that probably ought not to have much team work in it!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): They’re reaching the 5 to 14 demographic.

Alfie Tenner points at Clemmens and goes for a handshake. When Reno grabs his hand he pulls Reno in for another Gypsy Kiss. He scoops Reno up to his an Imploder. Reno squirms out of the ring so Alfie grabs Shane Clemmens and hits him with a quick headbutt then a Facebuster. He them sets him up with a look at the other competitors then lifts him high and drops Clemmens to hit a Jackknife Powerbomb.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Alfie Tenner with the pin!



Sybyl enters the ring but not soon enough!



Sybyl is to late to break the pin and Alfie Tenner wins!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Alfie Tenner has done it! Alfie Tenner has won this match!

As Alfie’s music rocks through the speakers and the crowd is on its feet roaring, Michael Bolton enters the ring!

MICHAEL BOLTON: And here is your winner…. ALFIE…. TENNER!

Alfie lifts his arms and parades around the ring!

MICHAEL BOLTON: And if everyone will look under their seat…



The crowd roars!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): What an unbelievable night for the fans!

Fade in to the view of Salvatore’s Casino in the heart of the Las Vegas Strip. A Cathedral inspired design with flashing lights covering just about every inch of the exterior. Two large parking lots flank the Casino; one on either side. Each is jammed packed with vehicles of all makes and models.

Inside, all the blackjack tables and craps tables are accounted for. There is only but a rare machine without a patron. The hardwood floor is jammed with men and women seeking to either forget the troubles of their reality or to simply feed an alcohol or gambling addiction; or perhaps both.

A man in a white suit is met by two taller, muscular men. These men are also in suits, each with a black tie and the Salvatore Casino Security emblem sewn onto the breast pocket. They have Bluetooth speaking in their right ear. As the lone man approaches them, they simply nod. They know exactly who he is, and what his business is. No words are spoken, as they aren't necessary at this juncture. They lead the man down through the main lobby and past the Cashier’s counter. Down a long hallway and to an elevator which stands alone at the end. They guide the man into the elevator and press the very bottom button of the panel. They make sure to stand in front of the elevator doors upon entering, ensuring the other man is behind them.

Once the elevator opens, they guide the man through another hallway, this one having just one door on the end. He audibly clears his gulps, feeling a bit nervous by this all. Of course, he also knows that is the point. He is supposed to be intimidated by all of this. He is stories from the main floor of the Casino now.

As they reach the door on the end, the two guards turn so that they are on either sides of the door. The guard on the right knocks three times and pauses. A male voice from inside instructs them to “Enter”. They open the door and guide the man in the white suit into the room.

He looks around, and his nerves must be going haywire. It is a small, desolate room. The walls are all cement. Some chips exist within them. As he looks to the right, he sees a wall with a blood splatter. A man tied to a wooden chair with a head slung over. Angelo Salvatore stands before him, seen placing something inside his suit jacket as he turns to face his company. He looks over his shoulder briefly at two more Security Guards.

“Clean that up.” He instructs. His authority is very clear by his tone of voice. He leads his new arrival to a small metallic table with two chairs; one on either side. As Salvatore sits, he motions for his guest to as well. The man in the white suit seems hesitant. The two Security Guards before him push him down into the seat. Salvatore pulls a bottle of Bourbon from a nearby cabinet attached to the cement wall. Pouring two glasses, and sliding over one to his guest. He then glances over to the Security Guards behind the man.

“That's good, Gentlemen. You are excused.”

They promptly exit, shutting the door behind them, as Salvatore sips on his bourbon. He looks across the table at the nervous wreck that stands before him, his intimidation tactics seemed to have been executed flawlessly. Finally, the man in white reaches over for his glass. He nervously holds it, and you can see the slightest shake in his hands.

“So…” He begins, slowly trailing off. He's almost afraid to finish his thought. “Who was the guy in the chair?” He sips on his bourbon as he points to the still, very prominent, blood splatter on the adjacent cement wall. Salvatore doesn't initially respond, opting to have another drink first, instead. He then looks his guest in the eyes, his blue piercing eyes saying all that needed to be said.

“That's not important.”

He nods at Salvatore’s answer. Truth is, it was probably best that way. He knew Salvatore had some skeletons, and he knew that he had some connections, but he didn't know where they lied. He didn't fully know what Salvatore’s end game was. He did know one thing, though. Salvatore would interrupt this train of thought, however.

“I know why you are here.”

It was a simple statement. It was calmly said. However, it seemed critical; important. The man in white didn't seem that surprised, but still felt a great deal of anxiety.

“Oh, you do?”

Salvatore nodded. At this juncture, his glass of bourbon was nearly empty. He raised it up to his lips once more, emptying its contents. He savored every drop, just as he had with this passive display of intimidation. He stared at the glass for a few moments before setting it back down onto the table, and looking back to his guest.

“Fight 2 Win.”

Again, he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly. Yet, the simple declaration carried so much weight. The man in white didn't have anything to say in response. This, of course, made Salvatore grin.

“Such a great concept, isn't it? Fighters from across the globe. A true “anybody can win” atmosphere, isn't it? Such potential...yet…”

His voice trails off. He wrinkles his nose as he continues to stare at the nervous man before him.

“Such deceit. Such corruption. Such utter disdain for all that is good and right.”

Suddenly the man in white saw his chance. A glimmer of hope. He was starting to think that perhaps he was destined to end up like the man in the chair, before him. He didn't say a word, as he slid a manila envelope across the table. Salvatore didn't even look down. He knew exactly what was inside. He nodded.

“Like I said, I know exactly what you are doing here.” He picked up the envelope, tucking it inside his jacket.

“The real question is, why are you doing it? Why do you want to involve yourself in this?”

With beads of sweat gliding down both sides of his face, the man in white leaned forward.

“Simply put, Mr. Salvatore, we need all the help we can get. Reputations be damned.”

Salvatore nodded. There seemed to be a lot of unspoken agreements in place, during this meeting. Salvatore poured himself another drink.

“Well then, I can only hope that you and your...cohorts...are ready for the storm that is coming.”

The man in white sullenly nodded. It was crystal clear that he feared the man before him, although he wouldn't exactly elude to why. That didn't exactly matter. He needed Salvatore. Salvatore knew it. For now, he had all the cards.

“We are, Mr. Salvatore. We are. We don't have a choice in the matter. Are hand has been forced, much like yours will be, in due time. We can only hope to weather the storm, and survive.”

Angelo didn't seem to care much for that response.

“You want me to do this, but are not ready for the consequences. Is that what I am hearing? I am going to make myself very clear. If I do this, there will be no interference. I will not be compromised. My family will not be compromised. You, or anybody else, will not be in the way. A man lost his life in this very room minutes ago because he got in the way. Capiche?”

No reply. Luckily, that was the right answer in this case.

“That's what I like to hear. Obedience. Less is more. Always remember that. You are wrong, however, if you think the coming storm can be weathered. You aren't equipped to fight it but rather, you need to run. You need to seek higher ground.

A knock on the door.

“Ah, gentlemen, come in, come in.”

The same two Security Guards as before enter.

“Please help our guest. He was just leaving.”

Salvatore adjusts his collar, and stands.

“I'm glad we understand each other. It will be a pleasure, I'm sure. As long as you remember.

The storm is coming.”

With that, Angelo Salvatore exits. Leaving the Security detail to escort the man in white back to the main lobby of Salvatore’s Casino.


RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Not sure where we went since this is typically commercial-free programming.

BLACKOUT. The arena is enshrouded in total darkness.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): And now the lights have gone out. This is never good.

A low hum of double bass strings and organs builds below. MUSIC QUEUE: A lone trumpet rises up, quiet at first, playing the building intro of Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra, ascending to the first FANFARE.

A single SPOTLIGHT, purple and vivid, slices through the darkness. It ILLUMINATES the BLACKSTAR as he RISES from beneath the floor at the top of the ramp in a cloud of mist.


The timpani thunders back and forth and then rolls, giving way for the trumpet’s return, this time with even more GUSTO. The SUPREME LEADER takes two steps forward and stops. Quickly, his arms cross over his chest. His hands clutch ORBS of COSMIC ENERGY, invisible to the eye of mere mortals. His majesty is BREATHTAKING.


The second FANFARE rises and EXPLODES. ANGELIC voices join the orchestra, until the BOMBASTIC timpani HAMMERS with alternating strikes. The BLACKSTAR marches emphatically toward the ring.

The third section, even LOUDER than the second, is timed with star-shaped lights spinning around and over the audience. He interacts with the crowd. Some give him the SUPREME salute, which he returns, shouting SUPREME along with them. Still, some boo him, denouncing Scientology. He threatens to #DISCONNECT them while giving a quick throat-slit gesture.

The THIRD and FINALE FANFARE builds and then EXPLODES with a tidal wave of brass, woodwind, string instruments, and a chorus of celestials. Nearing ringside, he takes three quick steps and slides head first under the bottom rope, then pops up to his feet. He runs to a corner and leaps straight to the middle turnbuckle. Standing over the audience, he looks down upon the mob. The orchestra gives the FINAL THREE NOTES and he once again delivers his TAUNT of SUPREMACY, yelling “SUPREME” over the symphony orchestra’s final note before it's released and the music fades to silence. And then a torrent of streamers is shout out from the crowd onto the ring, and The Blackstar! Black, white and purple streamers drape over his arms, down past his face, and all around creating an almost mummified personage! And then Blackstar turns back to his corner, still covered in streamers.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): That’s a lot of streamers.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): I’m telling you, this event has something for everyone. Even fans of Japanese wrestling.

“Flesh and Bone” by Burning Brides cuts through the final strains of Blackstar’s entrance and the crowd pops as Brennan Devlin strides out from the entranceway looking as cocky as always!

MICHAEL BOLTON: And introducing next… the true FACE of Wrestling… BRENNAN…. DEVVVVVVLIIIIIIIN!

The crowd boos, those who remember him from days past in Atlantic City, or with 4CW and either boo or cheer, creating a tidal wave of indistinguishable noise. And then the crowd shoots Orange and white streamers at Devlin as he makes his way down to the ring. He’s walking down the ramp, cockily outstretching his arms covered in streamers. The entire ramp is covered in streamers as Devlin makes his way to ringside, doing a cocky strut around the ring, eyeing in at Blackstar before climbing the stairs and entering the ring. Devlin comes to center ring and stands there with a big cocky grin as people shoot streamers into the ring! Engulfing Devlin in streamers! And then he moves to his corner turnbuckle.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES):  I think I got hit by some of those streamers.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): There’s a lot of them.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): What would a main event be without instigating a minor environmental crisis?

"I Like The Nightlife Baby"  by The Suicide File hits and the crowd erupts in a chorus of cheers as Natalie King strides out to the top of the ramp and immediately raises the Melee Championship overhead to a massive wall of approval from the crowd!

MICHAEL BOLTON: And making her way to the ring… the MELEE CHAMPION… NATALIE…. KING!!!!

And they shoot streamers!!!

Natalie King makes her way down the ramp, stepping over the swath of streamers covering the ramp. She claps hands of those in the crowd and then makes her way up the steps, stopping along the ring apron to once more showcase her hard-earned Melee Championship!

And they shoot more streamers!!!


Natalie King struggles to move with all the streamers covering her, everything is covered in streamers!

Inside the ring Natalie King soaks up the applause as they shoot more streamers!!! And then she makes it her corner to stare down her opponents as ring assistants come down to clean up all the streamers.

20 minutes later.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): All I’m saying is Rampage is only loosely based off the source mater—HEY we’re back!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Totally not talking about anything other than how AWESOME Fight 2 Win is.

All the streamers are gone now, the ring assistants have 42 large garbage pails they’re carting away from ringside by forklift. And the crowd has lost just an ounce of its energy as Natalie King, The Blackstar and Brennan Devlin stare one another down. They move to the center of the ring, watching as the official holds up the Melee Championship to show everyone what they’re competing for before lowering it to another ring assistant.


Blackstar slams a side fist into Devlin, knocking him immediately off balance once the bell rings, and then shoots off a stunning side thrust kick that topples Devlin to the canvas, then Blackstar immediately turns his focus to Natalie King who kicks the Supreme One in the midsection and drops him with a pedigree that gives the crowd a huge pop! Natalie King goes for a quick cover!


A kickout! Brennan Devlin is up and he rushes Natalie King but she’s able to use his momentum against him and swing him into a spinning powerslam pinning combination.


Another kickout!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Frenzied pace so far.

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): This is for the Melee Championship. You’re damn right these people will be fighting for their right to claim that digitized, processed image as their own!



Natalie King is up and ready to confront the Blackstar only to be surprised with a sudden and surprising tornado DDT that flattens the champ and wows the crowd! And Blackstar isn’t done there! He’s up to his feet and instantly running up the ropes, readying for a stunning moonsault but Devlin gets in the way and surprises Blackstar with a quick catch double knee backbreaker that halts Blackstar’s progress and stuns the crowd!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Devlin is ever the opportunist! Each of these competitors is looking for the slightest hint of weakness--

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): You used that one already.

Seeing Nat down Devlin drops an elbow, then slams a standing moonsault down onto the champ and goes for a cover!



A kickout from Natalie King! Blackstar is on his feet delivering a huge clothesline to Devlin! And Blackstar retaliates from Devlin’s earlier interruption by slamming repeated stomps down into Devlin before Natalie King powers up with a vicious uppercut that knocks Blackstar backward, then Natalie King downs Blackstar with a flying bulldog and she hooks the leg for a quick cover.



Devlin is up and meeting a charging Natalie King head on. He greets her with an irish whip into the corner she flips up and over the turnbuckle for and he surprises her with a running boot that topples Natalie King off the apron to the outside!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Nasty spill there for Natalie King. They rubbed the champion right off this one for the time being.

Devlin turns in time to be greeted with an impressive head scissor takedown from the Blackstar who is up and back down with jumping knee drop that rattles the ring and ‘ooo’s the crowd! And then like a bolt of lightning Blackstar runs up the ropes and topes out of the ring onto Natalie King who was just rising to her feet and the two crash into the guardrail!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): NICE! Love to see that acrobatic flippy shit!

The ref looks on as both Nat and Blackstar are down and out on the outside, with Brennan Devlin slowly climbing back to his feet and joins them outside. He stomps on one, then the other, and exchanges vicious stomps before lifting Blackstar up to a stand and rushing him at the ringpost for a collision!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): And once more Devlin is there to break up the momentum.

Devlin smashes Blackstar’s face off the ring post repeatedly before he tosses him angrily at the announce table where Blackstar’s back braces up against it. Devlin threatens Blackstar with a chair which the referee warns him against! Devlin keeps threatening before turning his threats at the ref! Natalie King charges at him only for Devlin to throw the chair up between them and manages a dropkick right on the face of the chair and Natalie King’s head that drops the champ!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Impressive maneuver there by Brennan Devlin!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That actually was pretty impressive!

The ref thinks that was legal! And Devlin kicks and stomps Blackstar some more before rolling the champion into the ring and climbing up the apron, then up to the top rope where Devlin scouts a high flying move!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Brennan Devlin isn’t ordinarily a high-flyer folks!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES):  It’s almost like they hired an actor to play him!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): You’ve used that one before! That’s enough fourth wall breaking out of you! We’re going to have a new champion!

And then Devlin springs into an amazing looking shooting star press, with two rotations only to come down on Natalie King’s upturned knees right into Devlin’s midsection! And the crowd pops as Natalie King is clearly not finished.

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Devlin wasn’t expecting Natalie King to still have some gas left in the tank!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): A knee to his ribs at that angle, from that height… poor guy’s gonna be limping for weeks!

After moments of gathering her bearings, Natalie King hoists Devlin to his feet and SLAMS Devlin down with a snap piledriver and makes the cover with Blackstar slowly rising to his feet on the outside.



Blackstar is sliding into the ring to break up the pin!



DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS): Blackstar tried to get there in time to break up the pin but he didn’t make it!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): Real nail-biter there.

Natalie King’s music hits and she is awarded the Melee Championship!

MICHAEL BOLTON: Here is your winner… and STILL Melee Champion… NATALIE…. KING!

Natalie King celebrates her huge victory as her music hits!

RYAN REYNOLDS (BRAD STOKES): That is absolutely unprecedented! Natalie King retains after 5 defenses!

DWAYNE JOHNSON (NATE HOLLIS):She’s definitely one of the best out there right now!

Still in the ring,

MICHAEL BOLTON: Ladies and gentleman, if you’ll please look under your seats--

Pause. Jake sits stunned, staring at the screen. Both Angelina and Gabe clink their champagne glasses together triumphantly before glancing at Jake.

“Now that, young man, is how a REAL wrestling show goes.” Gabe smirks, giving Angelina’s champagne glass another gentle TINK.

“Jake?” Angelina asked, almost sounding genuinely concerned. Jake sat there like a sullen lump watching the still-frame paused image on the big screen plasma television.

“You really did it, didn’t you?” He asked finally, silently and forlorn.

“Did what? Another triumph? I should say Angelina Altamonte getting her way is going to set this once sinking ship back out to see, and heading for treasure isles.” Gabe clinked glasses once more with a proud Angelina.

Slowly, Jake turned to glare at them.

“What happens when the actual fighters find out what you’ve done?”

It hadn’t occurred to Angelina or Gabe. They look at him with raised eyebrows each.

“What do you mean, ‘what happens’? What are they going to do? They’re under contract?” Angelina snickered.

Jake looked downcast at the floor, thinking.

“Jake, you don’t get to spend all that time infiltrating Francis Ford Cuppola’s little group hellbent on destroying my vision all in the name of destroying them from within then suddenly find yourself a high horse to sit on once it’s all said and done.” Angelina’s tone had grown serious, and scolding.

Jake felt it sinking in his gut, the damage he’d done to Francis, and what his actions had ultimately helped bring about. Angelina leaned forward and hooked his chin to capture his glance toward hers.

“Listen, little boy. It’s better to be on the winning team. This isn’t business ethics, this is business. Cuppola can rot, and these contracted fighters you’re so worried about? Well they either fall in line… or they fall off the face of the earth. And you have a choice, too. Can you see what I’m getting at?”

Jake eyed her with thoughts he didn’t wish to mention. Regret and guilt mixed with anger the likes of which he’d never quite managed to focus before until now. Slowly, with a stone face of his own, he began to nod.

“I can see what you’re getting at,” he murmured. She smiled at him, assuming they’d reached an understanding.

“Good,” she sipped from her champagne glass. “Let’s start planning Melee 6. Should we switch any of our cast?”
Gabe sat up excitedly.

“I did have some ideas actually, to increase our exposure in the Asian market—“

Fade in on a slow push-in on Jake watching them plotting. His eyes narrowing.


ANGELINA ALTAMONTE             Herself

GABE FROHMAN                   Himself

JAKE                           Himself

DWAYNE JOHNSON                 Nate Hollis

RYAN REYNOLDS                  Brad Stokes

MILLIE MCKENZIE                Angelica Vaughn

JOEY JANELA                    Zack Fantana

CHRIS RIDGEWAY                 Reno Nevada

SHLAK                          Alfie Tenner

JIMMY HAVOC                    Sybyl

COLT CABANA                    Shane Clemmens

MEN IN SUITS                   Themselves

ANGELO SALVATORE               Himself

SECURITY GUARD #1              Himself

SECURITY GUARD #2              Himself

SECURITY GUARD #3              Himself

DEAD MAN                       Himself

PENTAGON JR.                   The BLACKSTAR

MATT RIDDLE                    Brennan Devlin

MERCEDES MARTINEZ              Natalie King


PRODUCER                       Barry Stollman

CONSULTING PRODUCER            Mike Roach

CO-PRODUCER                    Quinn Sanders

SUPERVISING PRODUCER           Brian Chappell

PRODUCERS                      Kevin Murphy
                               Sara Venneti

PRODUCED AND EDITED BY         Barry Stephenson
                               Matt Staller
                               Ryan Holder

SVP OF TALENT RELATIONS        Marty Funkhouser

TALENT PRODUCER                Liza Krouse

TALENT COORDINATOR             Brian Costa

PRODUCTION DESIGNER            Kelly Van Peters

PRODUCTION MANAGER             T.J. McClung

LOCATION MANAGER               Wes Seaton

MUSIC BY                       Franz Saporta

TECHNICAL DIRECTOR             Tom Gillogley

TECHNICAL MANAGER              Jason Pyatte

LIGHTING DIRECTOR              Nathan Koepke

ART DIRECTOR                   Nanci Bates

COSTUME DESIGNER               Grace Nazarian

POST SUPERVISOR                Tim Gunderson

AUDIO SUPERVISOR               Frank Ali

FIELD PRODUCER                 Kevin Ruback

2ND FLOOR PRODUCER             Ken O'Casey

2ND 2ND FLOOR PRODUCER         Megan Cooper

                               John Ditmars
                               Mark Markatos

MAKEUP DEPARTMENT HEAD         Elle Favorule

AUDIENCE PRODUCER              Amanda Geer

SEGMENT PRODUCER               Amanda Keller

                               Fabian Nicieza
                               Mark Pensaville

LEGAL COUNSEL                  Kathryn Pasternack
                               Rebecca Kirshner

CONSULTANT                     Karl Dozier

VP MARKETING                   Dona Carrington

VIDEO CONTROL                  Max Steinberg

TAPE OPERATOR                  Natalie Price

CAMERA OPERATORS               Laurence Velasquez
                               Ken Parrish
                               Phil Ramos
                               Brandon Kidd
                               Gene Dodson
                               Brian Gaines
                               Karin Bradshaw
                               Art Hobbs

AUDIO MIXER                    Stan Hoyte

PA MIXER                       Jimi Bowman

PL TECH                        Alex Fitzpatrick

SOUND EDITOR                   Jamie Levine

COLOR CORRECTION BY            Creative Cow

CAMERA UTILITY                 Dan Chambers
                               Jeremy Cruz
                               Barbara Lowery
                               Paul Church

PROP MASTER                    Maurice Cherry

ART DEPARTMENT BUYER           Marilyn Petty

LEAD CARPENTER                 Jasper Norris

SET CARPENTERS                 Timmy Houston
                               Craig Vang

SET DRESSERS                   Vira McConnell
                               Otto King
                               Emiliano Rasmussen

KEY MAKEUP ARTIST              Victoria Burton

COSTUME SUPERVISOR             Azby Grimes

SET COSTUMERS                  Susana Padilla
                               Michelle Phelps

COSTUME MAKER                  Stephanie Brady

POST COORDINATOR               Francisco Morris

ASSISTANT PC                   Cori Gibbs

ASSISTANT EDITORS              Tim Dickerson
                               Brian Charles
                               JP Murillo

TAPE LIBRARIAN                 Michael McCarty


MUSIC PRODUCER                 Stephen Moon

GAFFER                         Adan Sharp

KEY GRIP                       Daniel Carrillo

BEST BOY GRIP                  Colin Hood

BEST BOY ELECTRIC              Brian Kennedy

GRIPS                          Brendan Beasley
                               Clayton Serrano

LIGHTING TECHNICIANS           Doug Mueller
                               Adam Edwards
                               Nigel Arnold
                               Fritz Kent

LIGHTING PA                    Danny Bartlett

LIGHTING PROGRAMMER            Richard Keller

Accountant                     Mort Feingold

                               Karina Kline

SET MEDICS                     Greg West
                               Carlos Deleon

KEY SET PA                     Destiny Chandler

PRODUCTION ASSISTANTS          Daryl Stewart
                               Sammi Stewart
                               Sean Dalton
                               Jesse Marks
                               Justin Todd
                               Nina Gay
                               Robby Cole
                               Allyssa Lewis
                               Grant Golden
                               Jonathan Duncan
                               Diego Sanchez
                               Robin Christian







The real Shane Clemmens, Sybyl, Alfie Tenner, and Reno Nevada are sitting at the bar. Exhausted and battered, each of their faces are covered in fresh scrapes, stitched-up cuts, and swollen bruises. In the background, WORST DAY SINCE YESTERDAY by FLOGGING MOLLY plays from an unseen jukebox: Well I know, I miss more than hit, With a face that was launched to sink…

SHANE: Gentlemen, I’d like to make a toast.

He raises his whiskey glass. The others respond in kind: Sybyl with a glass of cabernet sauvignon, Reno with a double of Jameson, and Alfie with a pint of lager.

SHANE: Here’s to the hole that never heals…the more I rub it the better it feels!

The four of them laugh and drink and holler. Alfie silences the crew by clearing his throat. He raises his beer mug, and the others followed suit.

ALFIE: Here’s to the girl in the little red shoes. She loves to party and she’ll drink your booze. She lost her cherry, but that ain’t no sin, cuz she’s still got the box it came in!

Another chorus of drunken laughs and swigs follow. Next up is Sybyl. He swirls the wine around his glass.

Sybyl: When we are born, we cry…that we are come to this great stage of fools…

He takes a long sip of his wine. The other three take their own drinks with a bit less enthusiasm. Alfie looks at Sybyl sideways.

ALFIE: Who said that?

SYBYL: King Lear.

Reno let out a long rasbury sound.

RENO: (laughing) What’s the matter, you don’t know any fucking Shakespeare?

SYBYL: Shakespeare wrote King Lear.


Shane leads over the bar to look down at Reno.

SHANE: I thought you went to Harvard, man.

RENO: (admittingly) On scholarship. And I was kicked out for totally bogus reasons. Anyway, LAST BUT NOT LEAST.

The men raise their glasses.

RENO: (in an Irish accent) D’ere once was a fella named McSweeny who spilled some gin on ‘is weenie. Jus ta’ be couth, he ‘added vermouth…then slipped ‘is girl a martini!

The celebration continues. Drinks are downed and laughs are shared. Reno finishes his and motions for a refill. The bartender is a fat man named Dooley with an oversized handlebar moustache and bald head. He grabs the Jameson from the back shelf and pours a couple fingers of liquor in the glass.

DOOLEY: You did Southie proud tonight, Reno. No need to feel bad about it. You’ll get em next time.

RENO: What the fuck you mean, Dools?

DOOLEY: Your wrestling match. Your buddy here beat you. I’m just saying, you’ll get em next time, is all.

RENO: Wrestling? What the fuck were you watching Dooley? We had a street fight three blocks from here and I fucking won.

DOOLEY: Fight 2 Win. We watched it in the bar. I got the Netflix now.

RENO: Put it on.

Dooley found the remote and turned the overhead flat screen television from the local channel to the Netflix app. After a couple button presses, the latest episode of F2W’s Melee loads on the screen.

RENO: Fast forward. Who even watches this bullshit between the matches?

ALFIE: I was just saying that to someone the other day. I just skip to the fighting.

RENO: There—stop.

Dooley hits play. The video starts in the middle of a match a wrestling ring. Four men are fighting it out, punching and drop kicking each other around the squared circle.

RENO: What the fuck is this shit…

SHANE: (suddenly paying attention) Hey, is that Cold Cabana?

Dooley looks from Shane to the TV and back to Shane.

DOOLEY: That’s you.

RENO: Fucking DOOLS. They don’t REMOTELY look alike. Shane Clemmens looks like a young Robert Redford high on 8-Balls.

SHANE: Nice.

RENO: That imposter on TV looks like a if the fat kid from Goonies grew up and stayed fat.

Alfie perks up on his stool and points as his on-screen character jackknife powerbombs Colt-Cabana-Shane-Clemmens on the mat and gets the pinfall. The bell rings on the television.

ALFIE: Look at that, mates. I won!

RENO: This is some fucked up shit, boyos.

SYBYL: Why did we just beat eachother up outside a liquor store in Boston for if this was what they were going to show people?

SHANE: We did it for the pussy.

Alfie looks around, then at Shane.

ALFIE: There ain’t nothin but swingin’ dicks in here. There’s a guy over there literally dressed like the Gorton's fisherman.

SHANE: Yeah. We should have went to the Applebee’s. DTF bitches hang at Applebee’s.

Reno slams a hand on the bar.

RENO: GOD DAMNIT. I hate these people. I HATE EM.


RENO: The people who run this fucking promotion. First, I have a guy implant a fucking bomb in my neck—

SHANE: A bomb? Let me see!

RENO: —and then that Angelina hoe doesn’t even fucking show our fucking fight. We tore a liquor store apart and fought in the middle of a god damn rotary! I hit Alfie over the head with a bottle of Jager!

ALFIE: That’s right!

RENO: That could have killed him! And they don’t even show it.

SYBYL: Yeah but what are we supposed to do about it?

Shane Clemmens stands up. The feet of his barstool squeak on the floor. He takes the sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar and flips them open.

SHANE: When someone fucks you—

He slides the sunglasses on and continues.

SHANE: —you fuck harder.

FED NEWS AND NOTES / Re: Melee 6 Opt-In Thread
« Last post by Sybyl on January 30, 2018, 05:04:56 PM »
Count me in!
FED NEWS AND NOTES / Re: Melee 6 Opt-In Thread
« Last post by Alfie Tenner on January 28, 2018, 05:44:08 PM »
I am in
FED NEWS AND NOTES / Re: Melee 6 Opt-In Thread
« Last post by Tommy Stone on January 28, 2018, 04:44:26 PM »
I'm in boss!
FED NEWS AND NOTES / Re: Melee 6 Opt-In Thread
« Last post by Angelo on January 28, 2018, 11:02:55 AM »
I'm in!
Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 10