Melee 1 - Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid
« on: September 30, 2017, 09:34:21 PM »
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“Action Radius” by Junkie XL ramps up with impending thrust towards a full on musical explosion. The camera hovers above a roaring crowd inside a packed to-the-rafters stadium as fireworks go off all around us, coupled with a stunningly intricate laser light show that sweeps over the crowd! The drone-mounted camera moves in for close-ups of excited fans intercut with images of the F2W logo, except with the 'w' strangely upside down. The drone hovers down to capture crowd signs held by excited fans!





The screen holds there on a big screen television mounted on the wall of Angelina Altamonte’s corner office inside of Fight 2 Win's temporary office space in upper Manhattan.

“So, what do you think?”

Her eyes drift in slow, quiet, deadpan disbelieving amazement from the screen to the man seated across the desk from her.

“You like it, don’t you?”

He nods with a confident grin. Angelina Altamonte stares at him with a look of bemused, unblinking tolerance.

“You made this?”

Francis’ nods confidently.

“It cost $80 million dollars. And it’s just a sample of what I can do as part of your team if you hire me, Miss Altimeter.”


“Yes, I know that.”

He smiled a winning smile at her without a hint of self-correction. She stared at him long and hard trying to determine how to take this encounter. Was he serious?

“$80 Million, you say?"

Francis nodded agreeably.

"Is there more?"

"There will be! We just need a bit more funding and we can complete the intro!”

"I see. And the crowd signs—“

“Aren’t they great? I spent a lot of time working on those.”

“Did you mean to misspell them?”

Francis’ eyes drifted slowly towards the screen without losing expression, before responding,

“Well, that was Rodney’s idea.”

With a frown, Angelina looks from the elderly confused gentleman to the man seated beside him.

“Excuse Me?”

Rodney, Francis Ford Cuppola’s erstwhile, often beleaguered assistant looked embarrassed and distressed at Francis before looking apologetically to Angelina who barely cracked a smirk, enjoying Rodney's struggle.

"Look, that's just a rough cut.” Francis continues, "it can be ironed out after we seal the deal."

"Seal the deal?" Angelina smirks.

“I helped run the Alpha Wrestling Empire. I was the one who got that federation its television deal--"

"I heard it was the Channel Ocho." Francis blinks, losing a moment of his stride, his tongue catching in his mouth, not expecting her to know much about his actual history.

"They do good programming. Number 8! Woo!" Francis rocked his fist into the air gently before continuing, "Now forget all that. Leave the past where it is! With me? You're getting over--how many years Rodney?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, sighed, and recited by rote, "50 years of cinematic experience."

Angelina pretended to be impressed, slipping another wink to Rodney that made him blush inwardly.

"Exactly. I built the AWE, I can build F2M--"

"F2W," Angelina corrected. Francis clears his throat.

"Right." He straightened his collar, eyed Rodney accusingly, and dabbed sweat from his forehead. "I knew that."

Rodney watched Angelina closely. Truthfully, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She barely blinked throughout Francis' pitch, occasionally batting an eyelash his way and he felt a tingle run through his veins at the sight of her, and, he suspected, she knew it.

"So much experience, Mister Cuppola. Truly a stunning resume, and do these other gentlemen you've brought with you to my office uninvited today come with the package?"

"Who--oh them?" Francis smirked proudly, shifting in his seat to the remainder of his entourage who had been standing silently behind he and Rodney. "Miss Altamundo--,"

"Altamonte," she corrected. Francis' words stumbled momentarily as he looked at her.

"Exactly. Allow me to introduce you to—“

"He's the guy that got me off fructose.”

“Congratulations.” Angelina feigned.

“It was a hard road, but I made it. I’m onto Maple Syrup now. And those guys," Francis' pride nearly swelled as his eyes fell upon the two men dressed identically as mimes standing side by side,

“The French Mime Assassins are my security detail. Don’t ask me why they dress like clowns. It’s a gimmick.”

“Mimes,” Rodney corrected.

“I said that, Rodney!” Francis’ voice raised in response.

“Naturally,” Angelina nods. "And the thing on my desk?" Francis softened.

"That's Destiny's Child,"

"It's my Mogwai. I got a whole room full of them. This one’s my favorite." Francis smiled lovingly down at his Mogwai then looked at her as if she, by now, must be awfully impressed and couldn't refuse him. Angelina looked softly towards Rodney who felt compelled to shrug defensively at having borne witness to many years of Francis and stood by, unwilling or unable, to divert his attentions to useful pursuits.

"He collects them." She looked at the little creature on the edge of her desk struggling to open its mouth, sticky strands of what looked like glue giving the little Mogwai a hard time.

"Did you feed your Mogwai glue?" She asked, beginning to lose her patience.

"Only half a bottle this time. L'il Child be watching her weight. Laying off the syrup!" Francis patted the Mogwai's head and shadow boxed the little creature. "Ain’t that right, L’il child?” He prods it. “Come on, DC, sing for the lady, show her what you do." The little creature struggles more desperately to open and close its mouth. Francis smiles to Angelina.

"I don't think you're supposed to feed it glue."

"What?" Francis looked offended. "I never read anything about that in the rules, did you?" He looked to Rodney who hid his face behind his hand, obscuring the disappointed shake of his head. Francis inspected his Mogwai while Angelina straightened in her chair.

"All right, I've seen enough."

Francis’ attention diverted from his struggling Mogwai back to Angelina where he resumed his confident, expectant smirk.

"So when do we start?"

"You don't."

The quick and definitive response deflated Francis unexpectedly.

"We don't?" Francis blinked with confusion.

"No. Mister Cuppola, I've seen what it is you provide to companies who choose to allow you to deploy your hijinks. F2W isn't interested in maintaining any more of a legacy connection to the AWE than it already has. We purchased the name and changed it. AWE no longer exists. The employees who faithfully served that company now work for Fight 2 Win. My father didn't develop this company in order for it to be destroyed by idiotic obsessions with what may very well be an animatronic Mogwai--"

"Oh no, this baby's real," Francis interjected.

"Of course it is. Your inane banter serves no purpose. This is a fighting company, not a comedy hour. What I'm building here will dwarf anything you've ever seen, and I won't let fools stand in the way. Your attempts at applying for a job that doesn't need to exist have failed. We already have a lucrative broadcast contract with Netflix. You're unneeded, and quite assuredly obsolete."

Rodney was taken aback, admiring her as she stared into and through Francis who felt like he was shrinking in his chair. The words hung in the air, over Francis who looked to Rodney and grappled with unthinkable rejection. After a thoughtful moment, Francis spoke.

"What the hell is Netflix?" Rodney's disappointed face fell once more behind his hand. Angelina smiled disingenuously.

"Good day, Mister Cuppola."

Her brusque finality helped usher Francis and his entourage out of Angelina's office. With the door closed behind them, Rodney looked back almost longingly, wishing he didn't have the baggage he had standing right next to him silently steaming with a struggling Mogwai cradled under his arm.

"Can you believe that, Rodney?"

"Hard to imagine.” Rodney blinked to himself, wishing he could have moments alone with Angelina rather than being saddled to the walking science experiment that is his employer. “I guess that’s it then,” Rodney sighed.

"Oh no," Francis looked defiant, "that's not it, Rodney. This isn’t over. There's something very fishy about what just happened there. What the hell is a netflix, Rod? Huh? You don't think that's a little strange she'd invent a phony broadcast contract just to refuse me?"

"No, Francis, Netflix is very real."

Francis chuckled, gently tapping Rodney on the stomach with the back of his hand.

"Sure it is, Rod. Sure." Francis shook his head with a condescending chuckle.

"So this isn't over?"

"No, Rod. Something's rotten in the state of Kentucky.”



“Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark. That’s the line.”

Francis eyed Rodney dumbfounded before continuing.

“Exactly. And I plan to find out what she's up to with the ashes of my beloved AWE."

"Seemed like a fine woman to me, I don't think Ms. Altamonte is up to anything--"

"Don't be blinded by her feminine wiles, Rodney. That’s exactly what happened to Mowgli. You don’t want that to happen to you, do you?” He eyed Rod who stood speechless. “That’s right, you don’t. Nobody who's anybody ignores the adorable cuteness of a Mogwai without harboring some sort of evil within them, Rodney.”

“You figured that out from one meeting that went nowhere?” Rodney asked dubiously.

“The Mogwai never lies, Rod.” Francis pats the struggling Mogwai on the head. “Something is rotten here and I intend to get to the bottom of it. But first I'm going to need to call in some favors from some special friends in order to solve this mystery." Francis scratched his beard with his free hand in smirking contemplation, a plan hatching within his fertile mind.

Rodney groaned. Francis leaned into him with a serious look.

"But seriously, just between us I think she might have been right about the glue thing." The Mogwai smacked its lips uncomfortably as Francis cradled it. Rodney sighed loudly. "To the vet, Rod."
Behind the closed door of her office, having switched the big screen television back to the building's CCTV, Angelina Altamonte watched the small group disperse from the rental unit lobby leaning back comfortably in her chair.

"All that’s missing is a cartoonish ‘you haven’t seen the last of us’ shake of his fist.”

“Mister Cuppola may be inept, but he has a tendency of ruining plans,” came a digitized voice from within the office, emanating squarely from the big screen television on her wall. “I’d not leave him too long to his own devices, Miss Altamonte.”

“I don’t intend to, HAL.”

“I admire your cunning,” The HAL 10000’s voice spoke authoritatively, it, a virtual intelligence program, being one of the other unspoken holdovers from the AWE now evidently employed by Fight 2 Win.

“The curse of my name demands that I be prepared for all contingencies, HAL. Cuppola won’t be a problem. For now I have other fish to fry.”

And she picked up her cell phone.

We open to a state-of-the-art broadcast center setup like a sportscenter, or something in that vein. At the shiny metallic silver desk sits one Nate Hollis, and beside him a jacket-clad, cool-looking Brad Stokes who leans back disrespectfully in his seat with his feet up and a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

We begin. Generic, exciting incidental music plays and fades.

NATE HOLLIS: Good evening everybody I’m Nate Hollis, your host for tonight’s premier episode of Fight 2 Win’s Melee. With me is my co-host and announce partner, here to call the shots on what promises to be an eventful first episode, the incomparable Brad Stokes!

Brad isn’t enthusiastic, giving a vague wave in the air towards no one in particular.

NATE HOLLIS: Same old Brad.

BRAD STOKES: Excuse me?

NATE HOLLIS: I said ‘Same old Brad’. You haven’t changed a bit since our days back in the AWE.

Brad leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on the announce desk after shifting his sunglasses up past his eyes to rest on his head. He regards Nate.

BRAD STOKES: You were in the AWE?

NATE HOLLIS: Yea, dude. We both were. We’re alumni.

Brad eyes him with a frown.

BRAD STOKES: I’m pretty sure I’d remember working with a blac—

Nate stops Brad with a glare.

NATE HOLLIS: What did you just say?

BRAD STOKES: I said  I think I’d remember working with a Blade Runner fan. That’s you. You love Blade Runner.

NATE HOLLIS: That’s not what you were going to say.

BRAD STOKES: What are you, a precog? Wrong movie, dumbass, but I can see how you’d liken me to Tom Cruise. We here to talk science fiction movies, or Fighting to Win?

NATE HOLLIS: Right. Lets get right back to it, fans. We have got a hell of a line up packed in for you tonight in this, the first ever episode of F2W’s Melee!

Brad surveys the broadcast area.

BRAD STOKES: Where the hell’s the wrestling ring?


BRAD STOKES: The ring. The roaring fans. What the hell is this?

NATE HOLLIS: This is F2W, Bradley.

BRAD STOKES: Please don’t call me Bradley.

NATE HOLLIS: Too late. Let me tell you, my man, this federation ain’t your kid’s wrestling federation. This certainly ain’t no AWE. This isn’t some slap and tickle fight. This is where fighters come to prove themselves against the very best on offer from any background, be it professional wrestling, Mixed Martial Arts, and beyond. As of now, the F2W sanctions their fights out of the fighter’s own hand-picked venues. Wherever they want to fight, is where the fight goes down. It cuts down on travel. All the fights are filmed live, and on location. We here in the broadcast booth are gonna be calling the matches, right down the middle, from the comfort of this here broadcast center. That’s you and me Bradley Stokes.

BRAD STOKES: Are you being serious right now? Is this legit Science Fiction Wrestling?

NATE HOLLIS: Did you not read your contract when you signed on the dotted line, Bradley.

BRAD STOKES: I think it’s pretty painfully fucking obvious at this point that I didn’t, man. And stop calling me Bradley. Let me see a program for this show.”

A frustrated Brad snatches a clipboard docket from Nate and begins to read. Nate shakes his head with a smirk.

NATE HOLLIS: While my man here figures out what all we got planned tonight, let me just tell you that we’re getting ready to throw to the Wes Deist Aquatic Center for our first match in which DEATHMACHINE, the masked one himself, is set to do battle on the home turf of none other than Starbucks Employee of the Year, JAKE!

BRAD STOKES: I’m moderating a Debate?

NATE HOLLIS: Later on in the show, yeah. Elina Cartel challenged Blackstar to a debate about the value of Scientology, and you agreed to moderate it.

BRAD STOKES: When the hell did we decide that?

NATE HOLLIS: On twitter. You knew all about this.

BRAD STOKES: No I didn’t. I don’t even know what a debate is! This is bullshit!

NATE HOLLIS: Sweet. Gonna be a night of firsts. Let’s go now live to the Wes Deist Aquatic Center to begin our first match!

Fans stock the stands overlooking the well tended chlorinated water of the swimming pool. From the changing room, from a floor shot on bare hairy legs, we crane up past the swim trunks, and the modest t-shirt up to the face behind the mask: DEATHMACHINE.  Die Antwoord’s “I Fink U Freeky” pounds through the speakers as DEATHMACHINE begins a slow parade along the edge of the pool, winking and blowing kisses to several ladies in the stands.

NATE HOLLIS: DEATHMACHINE is large and in charge, fans, inside the Wes Deist Aquatic Center in Idaho Falls.

BRAD STOKES: Why does he wear that mask?

NATE HOLLIS: He just does.

Emerging from the same locker room, in a 1920’s male’s striped swimsuit is JAKE looking slightly out of place amidst the banging hit from the 1990’s, “Run Away” by the Real McCoy. Upon sighting JAKE, DEATHMACHINE turns to all business.

DEATHMACHINE: I’m going to get you, jake!

DEATHMACHINE takes off running. JAKE is instantly frightened and runs in the other direction, and the sound of a bell can be heard over the echoing roar of the crowd.

NATE HOLLIS: DEATHMACHINE is not here for the aquacise, he’s going lower case on JAKE.

BRAD STOKES: All right, what the hell are you talking about, Nate? Why don’t these two fight already? Why are they at an aquarium?

NATE HOLLIS: I’m not explaining it twice. Just watch the match, Bradley. This one’s just getting started.

Past the “Slipping hazard” sign tacked on the wall charges DEATHMACHINE with increasing determination to catch JAKE on whom he is quickly gaining ground. JAKE does not want to be apprehended.

DEATHMACHINE: I see you recovered from our encounter at your Starbucks, little jake. Not this time. Then I’m going to sex your mother!

JAKE: What are you talking about!

The shouting match echoing off the tiled walls as the two men circle the pool, one in hot pursuit of the other! Rounding one of the corners of the pool near the deep end, DEATHMACHINE’s foot slips predictably into a puddle sending him into the air and falling backwards with a crowd-silencing thud on the tiled floor!


BRAD STOKES: He went lower case, you mean.

NATE HOLLIS: You could say that.

DEATHMACHINE is down and out. JAKE stops his run and looks back at the fallen, far larger man with a newfound degree of concern. JAKE tiptoes along the tile back to DEATHMACHINE to check on him. The crowd is a mix of boos, concern, and indifference as JAKE edges his way carefully towards his downed opponent. Suddenly, DEATHMACHINE sits upright with vicious gritted teeth, much to JAKE’s and everyone’s surprise, and grips both of Jake’s nipples through his swim shirt!

NATE HOLLIS:  The DEATHTWIST! JAKE has nowhere to go!

BRAD STOKES: You have got to be kidding me right now? Titty Twisters by the pool? Are you taking this joke of a match seriously?

JAKE winces in pain, hunched over a vicious looking DEATHMACHINE twisting JAKE’s nipples through his swim shirt. In a burst of unexpected retaliation, more like an attempt to get DEATHMACHINE off of him, JAKE swings an elbow up into the underside of DEATHMACHINE’s chin and knocks him backwards, forced to let go of his “titty twister” submission. JAKE is pained, stumbling backward not watching his footing sending him backwards into the pool!

BRAD STOKES: Man overboard! This match is ridiculous, but I find the blue water in the pool soothing.

NATE HOLLIS: It’s definitely been different.

DEATHMACHINE rises up, rubbing his chin through the mask and looking around for JAKE whilst sniffling, possibly crying. JAKE’s hands find the edge of the pool near DEATHMACHINE. The sudden appearance of JAKE’s hands, startles DEATHMACHINE who climbs onto his knees to see JAKE.


DEATHMACHINE lets loose a fist straight into JAKE’s face and sends to smaller opponent tumbling back into the water. DEATHMACHINE rises to his feet to stand over the edge and look down with clenched fists, likely his cool pose. JAKE swims towards the center of the pool and rises to tread water.

NATE HOLLIS: This is definitely an odd dilemma. I’m not sure how well DEATHMACHINE likes the water, he seems reluctant to enter the pool.

BRAD STOKES: Probably afraid of shrinkage. My god this fight is making my testicles shrink into obscurity just from watching it. SOMEBODY KILL SOMEONE, I don’t care who!

DEATHMACHINE is uncertain as JAKE treads water in the pool, checking his nose, which is bloody from the punch. The referee, as yet unseen, stands at the other side of the pool urging JAKE to get moving, to keep the fight going.

JAKE: I can’t! I think my nose is broken!

NATE HOLLIS: Uh oh. Fight stoppage.

BRAD STOKES: My god. Is this literally what F2W is going to be like from here on out? I’m about ready to quit.

NATE HOLLIS: You signed a contract. It’s looking like JAKE is calling for a stop to the fight.

BRAD STOKES: Yay. Woohoo. Loving this shit. I’m being sarcastic, bee tee dubs.


RINGSIDE ANNOUNCER: This fight has been brought to a close due to bloody nose.

The crowd in the stands boos.

BRAD STOKES: Anyone want their money back, yet? That “fight” was pitiful!

RINGSIDE ANNOUNCER: The winner of this match, by default, is DEATHMACHINE!

DEATHMACHINE celebrates as the crowd boos and JAKE is helped from the pool.

BRAD STOKES: My god that kid’s dad must be so disappointed in him like everytime he sees him.

NATE HOLLIS: Jake tried his best!

BRAD STOKES: No. No, he really didn’t.

DEATHMACHINE parades around poolside, stopping to awkwardly talk up some “fly honeys” in the stands.

NATE HOLLIS: Regardless, DEATHMACHINE wins that one by default. And that doesn’t seem to displease him.

BRAD STOKES: How much is left in this stupid ass “episode” of Melee? That’s it, isn’t it?

NATE HOLLIS: That’s just the beginning, actually.

BRAD STOKES: Oh sweet merciful Ana Hayden what’s next? I miss AWE.

We momentarily cut back to the announce table where Nate smiles a sidelong shit-eating grin at Brad.

NATE HOLLIS: So glad you asked, Bradley. There’s going to be a debate, remember?

BRAD STOKES: You’re not serious. When the hell did this become Jeopardy? Where the hell is that taking place, a school playground?

NATE HOLLIS: It’s actually taking place on the soundstage right next to this one. Get your mullet on over there, Bradley. It’s your chance to turn this into something exciting.

BRAD STOKES: Yeah. This sounds real exciting. The paying fans must be really pleased for what they’re getting.

Brad Stokes angrily rises from his seat, flipping his sunglasses back down over his eyes. 

NATE HOLLIS: You’ll do fine! Just read from the prepared questions. It’s a friendly tete-a-tete.

BRAD STOKES: Right. Another titty twister and this show will have already jumped the shark.

Brad moves away from the desk giving the Richard Nixon peace signs to the camera as he disappears offset.

NATE HOLLIS: Make no mistake fans, this debate is not scripted. It was requested mutually by Blackstar and Elina Cartel, with the added caveat that Brad Stokes be the moderator. It’s as much about Blackstar’s ideological beliefs as it is Elina’s, and it’s sure to be contentious. So buckle up, let’s go now to the soundstage to see how these two ideologues either resolve or build their burgeoning conflict.

Brad Stokes, still Nixon peace-signing, strides out onto the debate stage to a raucous array of boos. Brad feeds off them, striding at his full height, his chest thrust out as he approaches the podium centered on the stage between two similar podiums on either side. Brad Stokes signals to the attendant crowd to quiet down. They don’t.

BRAD STOKES: That’s right. I feed off your energy, kids. The more you boo me, the more power I get.

Brad snickers to himself.

BRAD STOKES: I’m Brad Stokes and this is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do in my career.

He spies the cue cards on the shelf on his podium stand and laughingly pulls them up to read them.

BRAD STOKES: Right. This is ridiculous. Where are these master debaters anyway, I have some prepared questions to ask them, as if this wasn’t clearly fabricated.

The debate hall lights go out, plunging it into total darkness. A low hum of double bass strings and organs builds below. A lone trumpet rises up, quiet at first, with the building intro of Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra, building to the first FANFARE.

The timpani thunders back and forth and then rolls, giving way for the trumpet’s return, this time with even more GUSTO. The second FANFARE crescendos and explodes. ANGELIC voices join the orchestra holding until the BOMBASTIC timpani HAMMERS with alternating strikes.

The third section, even LOUDER than the second, is timed with a single SPOTLIGHT, purple and vivid. It ILLUMINATES the BLACKSTAR as he walks out onto the stage. He is dressed in his imperial regalia, a battle suit fashioned out of the hide of morlocks and adorned with risidium steel spikes.

The THIRD and FINALE FANFARE builds and then EXPLODES with a tidal wave of brass, woodwind, string instruments, and a chorus of celestials. The scientologists stand to their feet and begin chanting SUPREME! SUPREME! SUPREME!

The Supreme Leader walks up to the podium while waving to his supporters. Then, in a moment of solidarity, he crosses his arms over his chest and violently throws them apart. His majesty is BREATHTAKING. The orchestra gives the FINAL THREE NOTES…He yells, “SUPREME,” in unison with the members of his church with such FEROCITY that it can be heard even over the ear-rattling music.

The music ends and the lights rise to illuminate the entire hall. He instructs his supporters to sit with a single motion of his hand.

Brad Stokes watches the entire thing from the center podium with a shake of his head, eyeing up Blackstar’s height.

BRAD STOKES: Why didn’t you do the long entrance.

Brad snickers, playing to the crowd who is awkwardly silent, clearly ardent Blackstar supporters.

BRAD STOKES: I’ve worked tougher crowds. Now what about tits, where’s she?

With the debate lights still on, Elina walks out from the backstage area. She walks up to her podium and remains expressionless as the debate begins. The lack of emotion, momentarily, confounds Brad. He rolls his eyes and eyes the cue cards with a squint.

BRAD STOKES: All right. Whatever. That’s tits. I’m Brad Stokes. Over there is star face guy. We’re all caught up. Let’s see…

Reads the card…

BRAD STOKES: All right, uhhhh so, first question… you’ve got to be kidding: The Hegels, or something, believed in two opposing thoughts reaching synthesis.

The words stumble out for Brad’s mouth who clearly lacks reading proficiency. He tries to get comfortable, lifting his sunglasses hopefully to read the card more clearly.

BRAD STOKES: In wrestling, too, it could be surmised that two opponents represent oppositional ideas of one another until the end of the match, and the outcome is the synthesis of the oppositional ideas forming a brand new idea slash reality. Scientology as represented by Blackstar is a thought waiting for its antithesis, possibly Elina Cartel, in order to bring about an entirely new idea. Discuss.

Brad takes an annoyed breath.

“I WILL ANSWER this FOUL QUESTION,” the BLACKSTAR proclaims, yelling far too loudly before Elina can offer a response. “Bradley Stokes, being a man of LIMITED intelligence, I doubt you are even aware of the Hegel of which you speak. Do they not trust you to come out here and ask questions from the heart? Are they MERELY SURPRISED that you can read at all? IT MATTERS NOT.”

Brad is about to retort, but Blackstar holds up a single finger. “The question is FARCICAL. I am not here to debate SCIENTOLOGY. The only antithesis represented by ELINA CARTEL will be the FORCE with which I deliver her DISCONNECTION.”

The scientologists in attendance respond with thunderous applause. Brad nods with smug approval.

BRAD STOKES: Sweet. That was semi-related to how you two are supposed to fight later on. What about you sweetcheek sugar tits?

Elina barely deigns to acknowledge Brad before giving her response.

“Like Hegel, Blackstar prefers to call upon a particular weakness of human nature -- the likelihood that his words will be trusted if they are complicated, full of gloom, and incomprehensible. Yet, at his core, like Hegel, he makes very important points. Firstly, you, Bradley Stokes, are a simple-minded fool. Secondly, I cannot deny that the world would likely become stronger with a far-reaching cleansing, yet, Hegel would note that Blackstar’s perception is limited to that within his own ego and pride. He has proven to be, thus far, incapable of finding the good in his rival’s thinking and will likely be destroyed by what he has sheltered himself from. He will, undoubtedly, regard my statements, nay, warnings, as rubbish, but this will not hinder my resolve.”

Elina’s statements are received poorly by the crowd.

“To answer this scripted question that Mr. Stokes here was barely able to read--no. I am not the antithesis to Blackstar and this belief system he follows which is still in its infancy. He is far too closed off to learn anything from an opposing view. The very Dialectic Hegel spoke of cannot be achieved. Nothing new will come of this, no balance will be found.”

Brad leans on the podium looking lost. He smacks his lips.

BRAD STOKES: Okay then. You’ve both been awarded no points because I lost interest after you stopped saying my name. Now let’s see here, gonna read from the card, as ordered by my good friend “Nate”. HI NATE! Moving on: Religion of any kind stands as the one true division within the human race in spite of grand goals often defined as bringing about enlightenment, or unity and peace. Blackstar’s arrival, coupled with his initial message which severed countless hundreds from their Youtube feeds, have proven increasingly divisive, possibly making his own message, and that of the religion he’s associated with irredeemable in the eyes of the masses. Discuss. Oh my god this is so damn boring.

“COUNTLESS HUNDRED,” the Blackstar shouted with a laugh, cutting Brad Stokes off from further adding his opinion. “The ENTIRETY of the NATION of YOUTUBE was at my mercy. Even now, those despicable lawyers at Google are threatening to sue me over our pirate broadcast. AND YET, these are the concerns of MERE MORTALS. I do not answer to your HUMAN COURTS. I serve a higher order.”

He pulls the leather harness open, exposing his violet-tinted chest.

“The blood of the celestials courses through my veins. My THETAN has resided in your history’s greatest scholars AND warriors. It was drenched in blood in the Roman Coliseum. It peered through the first telescopes and mused about the CREATION of the COSMOS. It STARRED in the cinema classic TOP GUN.”

He points directly at Stokes. “You have felt the need. The NEED for SPEED. I can sense it in your THETANS. They call to me, hoping to be released from this sad sack of flesh that serves as their prison, but you will live a long, pathetic life. You are not worthy of martyrdom.”

The Blackstar is crosses his arms as the timer expires.

BRAD STOKES:  Nice. So you agree that I’m Tom Cruise.

“We’re going to ignore the question for a moment just to cover the deep seeded homosexual overtones present in Top Gun.” Elina chimes in.

BRAD STOKES: Sing it, soul sister—wait, what? No homo here.

Elina ignores him and continues.

“Iceman and Maverick were clearly jockeying to decide who would be the top in the situation, hence the name ‘Top’ Gun. Furthermore, there is no lens you can watch the volleyball scene through without realizing the following scene containing male on male sexual intercourse was omitted before the final cut. I believe this is also why Tony Scott threw himself from the top of bridge when the mere mention of a sequel was suggested. I’m not condemning homosexuality, but the nature in which it is forced to stay closeted through careful editing. All the two of you now have to decide is which one is the wingman.”

BRAD STOKES: Whoa there, gear down. I’m still Tom Cruise.

Elina shows her teeth and does the ‘chomp’. Brad winces, yet is strangely aroused. Elina continues,

“As far as Blackstar’s Youtube antics are concerned, I believe it is merely to cast attention away from the truth,” Elina goes crossed eyed for a moment and stutters, “the truth being that Blackstar spends more time in the makeup chair than members of Kiss and probably has the penis envy to match,” she smiles softly, “Apologies, I’m growing growly due to the fact that Blackstar’s hair spray is giving me a headache.”

The Blackstar slams his fist onto the podium, threatening to split it in half like an axe through a log. “I demand a RESPONSE to these WILD ACCUSATIONS. The Volleyball scene in Top Gun was included specifically for the FEMALE DEMOGRAPHIC.”

BRAD STOKES: That’s what I’m saying!

Blackstar flicks his eyes toward his opponent. “Assuming you truly ARE a WOMAN, then I find it hard to believe you can CONTAIN the ESTROGEN pumping from your ovaries, weakening your knees at the very SIGHT of Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer shirtless and covered in sweat. Furthermore, although there is no stigma to wearing makeup, I can assure you, my appearance is the NATURAL BYPRODUCT of my creation.”

Elina smiles softly, “There is no stigma to your wearing makeup, but there is certainly a strong odor to the aqua net you apparently bathe in. As for your meticulous description of Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, well, I believe this speaks for itself. Next question, please.”

Brad chuckles awkwardly.

BRAD STOKES: Jack Reacher was damn cool. That much we can agree on. Next cue card question: Physical, verbal, and emotional conflicts solve nothing unless the conflicting sides have the genuine goal of resolution rather than the perpetuation of conflict. Any outcome of this debate, or the subsequent fight will be rendered meaningless unless you two resolve whatever differences you may have. Discuss.

Elina butts in.

“Allow me to take this from the top. The only resolution to this conflict can be my joining the Scientologist movement and reaching Operator Thetan, or whatever it is he calls it. This will simply not happen because the biggest difference between Blackstar and I--is that I can’t afford to join his ‘religion’.” Elina leans on her podium, rubbing her temples, before finally pushing herself back up and forcing herself to regain composure, “This is what he leaves out of each and every one of his sales pitches--If you aren’t amongst the very rich, you can’t ‘buy the ticket and/or take the ride’. You’re left out. This, to me, makes his religion no different than any other--the more money you have, the better off you are. For example: Stan Winston designed Blackstar’s costume and most of his accoutrements. Meanwhile I would be hard pressed to get a homeless person to make me a ring out of discarded tin foil.”

Some jumpsuit wearing people in the crowd boo her, she ignores it, but Brad Stokes takes the pause as an opportunity to fluff his mullet.

Elina rubs her temples, “I believe Blackstar is currently trying to overthrow me with the essence of aqua-net and I’m near my breaking point.”

“FALSE ACCUSATIONS are being made,” the Supreme Leader of Scientology proclaims. “The SAFETY of the VERY PLANET is at stake, and you would quibble over a few dollars. It is true, the Church of Scientology requires much from its members over the course of their commitment, but I dare you to find ANY major religion in this country that does not rely on DONATIONS from their MEMBERS.”

He turned toward his opponent. “I assure you, Elina, if you presented yourself as a WORTHY DISCIPLE, I would uplift you from this mundane life you have created for yourself and PROPEL you on a PATH toward ENLIGHTENMENT. The cost? Your devotion for no less than ONE BILLION YEARS to the cause. Your SACRIFICE for the SALVATION of this planet you call EARTH.”

“Well, by all means, DM me after the debate and we will consider the path towards enlightenment, if there’s a discount involved. Perhaps your church accepts coupons? I have many.”

BRAD STOKES: Booooooring. These cue cards are bullshit. Let’s get right down to the Brad Stokes questions: All subsequent Alien movies sucked ass after the first films. Discuss, bitches.

Elina shakes her head.

“This is a bit of a misleading topic as I am unsure of how many films to which you refer. I believe the first and second were superior, yet it can be argued that the second movie was a reference to Vietnam, only the ‘men in the black pajamas’ were in fact Xenomorphs. I found all of the movies entertaining, including Resurrection, thanks to the darling Ron Pearlman. Yet, the shining moment of the movie series, in my humble opinion was the first film. It culminated, very easily, in the single most brilliant scene involving a lovely woman, a cat, and very skimpy panties. Perhaps if I ever ride on Blackstar’s spaceship, I will dawn the same garment as my ‘uniform’.”

The Blackstar waves away the topic. “It appears Mr. Stokes has ABANDONED the teleprompter and now we see the TRUE DEPTHS of his INTELLECT. The result is QUITE SHALLOW, Mr. Stokes. This is better debated on the LOATHSOME REDDIT or by the PATHETIC CHRIS HARDWICK on one of his twenty podcasts. NO, I will not SULLY the time we have over such MUNDANE conversation. I did not come here to ARGUE over such TRIVIAL MATTERS.”

He swipes his hand through the air. “I declare this topic DISCONNECTED. Next question. And Mr. Stokes, you are on ICE THINNER than the GYRRAZAN ARCTIC SHELF on XAMLORE VI. I can assure you, that is QUITE THIN.”

Brad Stokes eyes Blackstar long and hard.

BRAD STOKES: Oh really? Gyrrazan Arctic Shelf, you say? XAMLORE VI? Are these the best disses you got, Cocksucker?

Elina pipes in.

“I would have opted for Blackstar’s answer if I were not a fan of Ridley Scott.”

BRAD STOKES: Oh yeah? Both of you wanna have a go at the Stokes? Well how’s this for a personal attack veiled as a debate topic: Much like the plot of the movie ALIEN, Blackstar has an alien organism living within him, a “thetanomorph” or something equally ridiculous living within him and we gotta set that Thetan free! How you like me now?

Elina shakes her head, “I am unsure what bearing this has on this discussion and I am now questioning Bradley’s understanding of Scientology, or anything else, for that matter. These questions have now simply turned into statements, so I will propose that we leave our podiums, Blackstar and I, and beat Stokes into a bloody pulp,” Elina grips her podium tightly with both hands.

The Blackstar muses, “Tempting as that may be, but this could be an opportunity to educate Mr. Stokes—” He thrusts his hand into the air, fingers spread apart, palm up. The stage lights cut out, except for a single ray of light that shines down upon the Supreme Leader of the Church of Scientology.

“YES,” his voice booms. “Within this CORPUS resides a MONARCH of a BYGONE AGE…A WARRIOR that is DESTINED to defeat the LECHEROUS LORD XENU, who at this VERY MOMENT trembles within his mountain prison because he knows I have been RESURRECTED.”

He slowly lowers his hand, and with it the lights raise to brighten the entire stage. He says with a half-smile, “You are not WORTHY to witness my FINAL FORM, Mr. Stokes. It is the FORCE of the unstoppable COSMOS. It IS the COSMOS. In the wars to come, when the GREAT CATACLYSM is upon us, I will UNLEASH the full of extent of that force.”

The Scientologists in attendance rise at once, offering a rousing applause to their Supreme Leader. The Blackstar stands, arms crossed, like a conqueror of space, a warlord of the cosmos. He lifts his hand and immediately the cheering cuts off and the members return to their seats. Brad stokes eyes them each like a disparaging principal in a John Hughes movie.

BRAD STOKES: Oh yeah, huh? Well how’s this for unleashing? Elina Cartel’s only here cause she’s after that Brad Stokes ‘D’. DISCUSS.

“For this to be possible,” Elina chimes, “it would necessitate Mr. Stokes actually having a ‘D’. From his never ending need to compensate, I can only speculate that he does in fact have an ‘innie’ as opposed to an ‘outie’ my suggestion to you, Mr. Blackstar, that we assault Mr. Stokes, still stands.”

BRAD STOKES: Now hold on. I’d show you but my zipper’s stuck--

The Blackstar hoists his podium above his head without effort. “I warned you, MR. STOKES. Now you will DROWN beneath the SEA of your INADEQUACIES as a moderator.”

He flings the podium at Stokes who ducks just as the podium smashes Stokes’ podium into smithereens!  Mayhem ensues! Brad crawls off the stage to hide as chairs are flung. Jerry Springer would be proud.

We cut to a low shot fixed on a car with darkened, tinted windows parked in the middle of a pristine valley in the Appalachian mountains. The automatic window lowers to reveal the face of Natalie King staring out at something behind us.

A run down warehouse lot overrun with dust, clouding old bumper cars, a weathered roller coaster and oversized clown statues and the entry to a closed warehouse door. Natalie glances back to someone unseen in the seat beside her.

NATALIE KING: You’re sure he’s here?

The voice beside her is quiet, but audible, Natalie’s boss.

…: All you have to do is get past this fight, Nat. I’ll handle the rest.

Natalie inhales sharply and exits the car. Closing the door behind her, she stands overlooking the old warehouse. She inhales once more, steeling herself, and strides towards the door. Inside the car, the vague silhouette of the man lifts his hand to his ear. We hear,

…: Miss Altamonte. Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s discuss how Natalie King’s future, and the wonders of mutually beneficial partnerships can align in Fight 2 Win. 

The window closes before we can hear further.

We cut inside of the warehouse. Light streams in through holes in the walls. Natalie stands steadfast.

“Head’s up.”

A crate hurtles towards her from the nearby darkness. Natalie raises her fist but not quick enough as the crate glances off her shoulder and sends her stumbling backward. With a grimace she looks up to see a shirtless Alfie Tenner stalk from the shadows out to greet her with a big grin.

“Ready to have some fun?”

Natalie rolls her shoulder as she straightens to eye Alfie.

BRAD STOKES: *Out of breath* Nearly just died. But I’m back. What’d I miss.

NATE HOLLIS: Watching your silly ass making a fool of yourself. Now shush. Natalie King’s just met Alfie tenner.

Alfie’s grin turns to a snarl as he closes in on Natalie and slams his fist repeatedly into her side viciously before collapsing his arms around her and belly-to-bellying her onto the dusty concrete!

BRAD STOKES: Holy shit people are actually fighting right now.

NATE HOLLIS: Told you we were just getting started, Bradley.

Alfie rolls Nat onto her back and slams fists down into her face before Natalie gets her guard up. Alfie growls and grips her arms, forcing her up to a stand. Alfie is stunned as Nat slams a sudden knee into his side that staggers him backward. With enough distance between them, Natalie charges and slams a dropkick into Alfie’s chest sending him hurtling backwards landing on the  weighted mallet game platform. The hammer almost rises to hit the bell and drops back down. Alfie angrily rolls off the platform and grips the nearby mallet and rises to his feet angrily swinging the mallet for Natalie. The bar and side of the mallet slams off Natalie’s side and sends her careening into a pile of crates that turn to splinters of wood, and Natalie splayed on top of a set of novelty balloons.

BRAD STOKES: This is some crazy shit right here. Glad I survived that debate thing.

NATE HOLLIS: Alfie Tenner’s batshit crazy, and Natalie King’s on his turf.

Alfie hovers over the downed Nat, heaves the mallet up over his head and swings it downward! Natalie shifts sideways, narrowly missing the mallet that makes short work of the bottom of the crate, and sends balloon latex flying. Natalie lifts to one side and extends a foot up into Alfie’s midsection! He grimaces and drops his elbow to cover the pained side giving Natalie time to lift to her feet and charge him like a bull, driving Alfie backward across the concrete and slamming his back right into a polished unicorn adorning a dusty old merry-go-round. Natalie backs up and unleashes a series of stiff kicks into Alfie’s sides.

BRAD STOKES: I’m loving how deranged this venue is. It’s like a funhouse for killer clowns from outer space.

NATE HOLLIS: More Sci-Fi references, Bradley? I’m sensing an emerging theme in this episode. Danger in every unpacked box and crate, rides that may still work, and we have ourselves a veritable deathtrap for Natalie King.

Alfie shifts to one side, causing Natalie to narrowly miss him, instead her leg slams painfully against the side of the unicorn. Natalie King staggers backward with an awful limp.

NATE HOLLIS: Nat’s in trouble.

BRAD STOKES: That’s what she gets for kicking a unicorn. You don’t kick unicorns, Nate.

Alfie rolls his neck and strides right at Natalie, arrogantly deflecting a glancing blow from Nat and trapping the arm under his and slamming a headbutt directly into the bridge of her nose to stun her! Alfie swivels where he stands and traps Nat’s head under his arm in a modified dragon sleeper. Alfie bends Nat backwards at an awkward angle.

BRAD STOKES: Crazy mofo looks about ready to snap her in half!

NATE HOLLIS: The last place you want to be is tied up with a guy like Alfie Tenner!

Natalie King lunges a knee up and slams it unexpectedly into Alfie’s face, but he doesn’t let go. Nat attempts to deftly slide her body up and lock on a headscissor but Alfie sees it coming and slams her back first into the nearby unicorn!

BRAD STOKES: There’s that unicorn again!

NATE HOLLIS: Natalie King must be exhausted. Alfie Tenner shifts down for a pin attempt!

BRAD STOKES: There’s pins in F2W?

NATE HOLLIS: There is!

A referee, who’s been staying well out of the way moves in and quickly begins the count!



Natalie kicks out! Alfie slams a palm off the concrete and drags himself up and grips Nat by the hair up with him as well then irish whips her across the floor to slam into a funhouse mirror which cracks on impact. Nat falls backward.

BRAD STOKES: That’s bad luck, right there.

NATE HOLLIS: It’s Fight 2 Win, Bradley. Pins are just one of the ways a competitor can score a victory. There’s also fight stoppage, like we saw earlier with JAKE and DEATHMACHINE.

BRAD STOKES: Don’t remind me.

NATE HOLLIS: There’s a million ways to win.

BRAD STOKES: So you’re saying we might see someone kill someone to win?

NATE HOLLIS: With this crew? I wouldn’t put it past many of them.

BRAD STOKES: OH! OHHHHH GAWD! I think I just had an orgasm. Are you serious? My dreams have come true.

NATE HOLLIS: Chill, man.

Alfie once more has Nat King up to her feet, this time deflecting a wayward elbow and twisting her into a triangle choke but Nat leans forward before Alfie can drag her down to the floor, Alfie’s face slams off a shard of the mirror and forces him to let go, stumbling backwards clutching his face. Nat favors her sore knee but swiftly moves into a place and extends a straight-legged kick right into Alfie’s throat that knocks him backwards even more, this time clutching his neck. With some distance, clearly favoring her sore leg Nat charges and slams a running single leg high knee up into Alfie’s chin that knocks him up and backwards right into the tunnel of love grotto with a bloody splash!

BRAD STOKES: Love this brutality Nate. F2W rules! What was the name of our former company again?

NATE HOLLIS: It was the A.W—

BRAD STOKES: I don’t care, hahahahahaha! Although now I want a hamburger from A & W. All this ass-kicking action is making me want a Mama Burger.

NATE HOLLIS: I’m starting to understand why Nina Applebaum didn’t want to work with you.


NATE HOLLIS: Nevermind.

Nat limps, hindered by how much pain she’s got in her leg, all over really, but finds herself knee deep in water looking confused for Alfie Tenner.

NATALIE KING: Should be knocked cold…

Rising out of the water behind her, Alfie grips both of Natalie’s arms in flips her backward with an underhook suplex, slamming her into the water, and the back of her neck against the dirty floor of the grotto underwater! The ref, nearby, begins the count as Alfie bridges for the pin.




Natalie, stunningly kicks upward, shocking Alfie who watches Natalie pull herself in a hurry out of the water to catch her breath.

NATE HOLLIS: Alfie Tenner looks downright tweaked right now.

BRAD STOKES: It’s that tunnel of love water. Trust me. People piss in there.

Alfie shakes his head in a mental uproar as Natalie heaves in breath, seemingly surprising Alfie, perhaps igniting a vision, she sights him and slams a hard fist right into his jaw and then tackles him with a headlock right into the water! With Alfie’s head under water, and struggling furiously, Natalie begins slamming fist after fist down into his face before Alfie manages to get a grip of Natalie’s hair and pulls her head painfully backward, which forces her to relinquish the hold and fall backwards.

NATE HOLLIS: Fighting in the tunnel of love taking on a whole new meaning right here.

BRAD STOKES: Get a load of the wet t-shirt on Nat King, Nate. Mama Burger is right!

Alfie’s turn to gulp in air as water from the tunnel of love drips from his head and shoulders as he rises from te water with a snarl at Natalie who winces on her way up to a stand to meet him. Alfie rocks her with a hard right, and Nat responds with a hard elbow of her own! An angry Alfie Tenner quickly charges Natalie and slams his shoulder into her midsection and slams her into the very back of the tunnel of love. Before Alfie can capitalize, Nat slams a double axe handle into Alfie’s back that forces him to stagger! Without another wasted minute, Nat quickly lifts and drops Alfie with a snap piledriver!

NATE HOLLIS: Quick thinking by Natalie! And a pin attempt!




NATE HOLLIS: Natalie King did it!

BRAD STOKES: She could have killed him!

NATE HOLLIS: Damn right!

BRAD STOKES: But she didn’t!

NATE HOLLIS: Almost, though! What a fight!

BRAD STOKES: Almost isn’t good enough!

Natalie King stumbles out of the little tunnel of love, back onto the dusty floor of the old warehouse without paying the referee much attention.

NATE HOLLIS: Big win there. Natalie King went through hell and emerges victorious.

BRAD STOKES: With a wet t-shirt.

Natalie King staggers her way to the exit and opens it into a blast of sunlight from the outside. The car is still waiting for her, but with a woman leaned over the side of the car speaking in through the open rear window.

Natalie King limps towards the car, her eyes adjusting to see her boss, Irving Messing seated comfortably as he was when she left him in the backseat of the car. The woman talking to him through the open window is A$hley Quid.

A$HLEY QUID: I hear you bruv. We understand one another.

Both sets of eyes turn to regard Natalie who looks confused and exhausted.

A$HLEY QUID: What’s this then, you didn’t kill him did ya, luv?

Natalie shakes her head. From inside the car, Natalie’s boss head tilts to regard her through the car window with a pleased smirk.

IRVING MESSING: Natalie, this is the man you just beat’s manager, A$hley Quid. We were just discussing potential business synergies.

Natalie’s past arguing, she slips past A$hley, and into the car.

A$HLEY QUID: Peeyoo. Took him for a tumble in the tunnel of luv, did ya?

A$hley chuckles.

IRVING MESSING: You need a ride?

He peeks out to A$hley.

A$HLEY QUID: Nah. I got my wheels. Better pop in for a looksee at Alfie. We’ll catch up later. Good luck with infiltratin’ the church, mate.

A$hley taps a light hand on the roof of the car and slips off towards the warehouse. Inside the car, Natalie turns to look at her boss.

NATALIE KING: What was that about?

IRVING MESSING: Networking. A$hley and I, and Miss Altamonte appear to be on the same page. What do you know about the church of Scientology?

The automatic window closes, and the car peels off leaving us in dust.

Later, we ride away after it all inside a roomy Cadillac Deville, leaving the old Carny Pro warehouse behind us. Street lights are few and far between, the rising glow of the moon and occasional street lamp illumines the car. We see Alfie Tenner in hysterics. He laughs one moment and is dead serious the next. A$hley Quid stares at him and then at the camera as the car goes through darkness and pools of light.

“What you people saw earlier is something that I would usually have kept secret. It was a good one, innit? Throughout my whole life Alfie has been my shield against the world. I was always the small one ov the lot. The runt. I was always protected, though, until I earned my respect. Now I practically run shit. You’ll be seein’ that soon enough. The change came right about when the old man taught him to be violent. He became my secret weapon.”

Alfie lightly bangs his head against the glass and A$hley grabs him and puts his head on her shoulders.

“Shh. It’s alright..

This sort ov thing does get to him at first. There’s always the guilt after doing a job or having a scuffle. Might be the symptoms or his bloody conscience but he always feels that he did something horrible. It takes some convincing but he always eases into it. Accepts that he did something necessary. I can even make him believe that what he perceived, yeah? It was real. Then it becomes second nature to turn the switch on and off he goes.”

She shuffles his heavier frame and lies back on the seat with Alfie. He settles and closes his eyes.

“Tonight was the beginning. The turning ov the giant screw to get him to be what I need him to be.  I don’t care if he imagines he’s fighting the devil or the jolly green giant. Makes no difference to me as long as he gets the job done. The job here is to raise my profile. Get bigger and better. Then maybe I can make some real money. Don’t worry, folks. I’m not just taking advantage ov him. I’ll get him the help he deserves when I’m done wiv him… If there was anything wrong, that is.”

She stares back out the window.

“I saw early ass reactions to Alfie… I want people to know that I didn’t bring him to F2W to a couple ov laughs at his expense. Know him better than anyone. This is what makes us happy. I want him to be free from any limitations and this is the way to do it. I didn't just bring him here. I unleashed him on you all and he will run roughshod over this whole organization. Trust."

The car goes all dark along with the screen as we fade.

The fans are buzzing but quiet down when The ref in the middle of the field raises his hands.

NATE HOLLIS: And here we are, back for another one, this time inside the celebrated Cincinatti Hit Girls football stadium.

BRAD STOKES: I don’t know what it could be, Nate, but Lingerie Football really speaks to me. Gives me a hard-on for sport the likes of which no other sport can compare to.

NATE HOLLIS: I’m just really glad you’re here to point out these observations, Bradley, as opposed to being killed earlier by Elina Cartel or Blackstar.

BRAD STOKES: I can take ‘em both.

Adam Wolfe and Angelica Vaughn stand at the opposite goal lines and when the referee blows a whistle and lowers his hand they bolt towards each other. They get to their 10s, the 15s, the 20s. As they get closer Angelica lets out a primal yell but pauses as Adam doesn’t slow down and jumps at her, turns in mid air and connects with a shoulder blade to her face. This levels her and he crashes onto the ground but quickly gets up to stomp on her to the booing of the Cincinnati Hit Girls fans.

NATE HOLLIS: Nice unorthodox tackle by Adam Wolfe.

He backs away and raises his hand to the crowd as they bombard him with their anger. He is hit on the back by Angelica Vaughn with a kick. He turns and smiles at her.

BRAD STOKES: I remember Adam Wolfe. Squirrelly and crazy as they come.

NATE HOLLIS: Squaring off against one of the nicest people you’ll meet in this or any sport in Angelica Vaughn.


Wolfe tries to grab her but she ducks and punches his midsection then kicks at his legs with some muay thai kicks. When she moves up to his midsection he grabs her leg but Angelica  quickly jumps up and uses his grip on her leg to pull him for a stiff kick to his chest. Wolfe flies back and falls on the ground. Angelica runs at him and jumps over him landing in a senton and she stays on top for a count.

NATE HOLLIS: Nice aerials there by Vaughn! And she goes for the cover!


And Adam kicks out. He sprawls up and groggily tries to make his way to the sidelines. Vaughn is up and grabs at his waistband to stop him and he squirms away from her grip and hits her with a backflip kick.

BRAD STOKES: Vaughn is too busy playing touch football. Wolfe’s gonna murder her!

She is just as surprised as she is floored. Adam goes on the attack now and lifts Vaughn up by the hair. He drags her over to the empty sidelines and ramps up the runs and throws her over to a table. He slams her head on the table then kicks her head into the table’s edge.

BRAD STOKES: Hardcore, man.

NATE HOLLIS: Anyone that signs up for Fight 2 Win better ready themselves for some nasty fighting. Barely any rules, with the sole objective being to win at any costs. There’s gonna be blood.

BRAD STOKES: Vaughn better not be squeamish.

Adam holds Vaughns head under his foot as he winks at the fans. He looks around and grabs Angelica again. He grabs her arm and whips her right into a table full of big orange gatorade containers. She flies through them and lands hard on the other side.

NATE HOLLIS: Nasty spill there. Angelica Vaughn is taking some damage.

Wolfe looks disappointed and goes to the containers kicking them aside. He finally nudges one that satisfies him and picks it up with some effort. It is full. He unscrews the lid and approaches Vaughn who stirs.

BRAD STOKES: Save it for the championship, my kid!

The Hit Girls fans try to will their star kicker up with their cheers.  Angelica manages to stand but is brought down quick with a running knee from behind. Adam looks down at her with a grin. He grabs the gatorade container and wakes her up by pouring the gatorade all over her.

BRAD STOKES: What a wa
Re: Melee 1 - Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid
« Reply #1 on: September 30, 2017, 09:45:57 PM »
BRAD STOKES: What a waste of all that electrolyte infused water.

NATE HOLLIS: Might have the opposite effect than what Adam was hoping for.

Angelica gets up gasping and is hit with a rolling elbow for her troubles. He puts his foot on her and the ref counts.



Adam gets his foot off as the fans are now throwing empty cans and scraps of food at him.

NATE HOLLIS: Adam Wolfe isn’t the type to go for the early win without first a little humiliation.

BRAD STOKES: Didn’t the Hit Girls lose their last game?

NATE HOLLIS: Not the kind of streak Angelica’s looking for if this one tilts in a similar direction.

BRAD STOKES: Did you say streaking?

Brad begins to remove his jacket.




BRAD STOKES: Fine! But you wait. It’s gonna happen.

Wolfe goes up to confront the first few rows and a few men instantly stop yelling at him and shrink back into their seats. He focuses on them until Angelica jumps on him and tries to lock on a rear naked choke. He struggles up the aisle through the cheering fans and tries to throw her off. He takes a knee as the ref tries to get through to ask him if he gives up.

NATE HOLLIS: Nice turnaround by Angelica Vaughn! Way to keep in this thing!

Using the last bit of effort Wolfe stands and grabs Vaughn's arm and swings her over him to throw her into a group of fans. They try to catch her, but she lands on the edge of some of the seats. Some of them hold her upright but Adam hurls himself at the group with a diving crossbody from one row above. Angelica falls from awareness or exhaustion and Adam misses her to take out three LFL fans.


NATE HOLLIS: Nice one.

BRAD STOKES: Been saving that one since the AWE days.

NATE HOLLIS: It shows.

Angelica checks on her people but Adam fights back. They trade kicks and elbows and the fans scatter!

NATE HOLLIS: We got a melee in the stands, fans!

BRAD STOKES: Way to mention the name of the show IN the show, Brad.

Angelica ducks under an elbow to hit Wolfe with a spinning backhand to the back of his head. He stumbles and she gets him into position by wrapping her arm behind his back. She makes sure people are cleared from the row in front of her then wraps her leg around Adam’s. With a breath and a flip she hits her S.O.S. into the seats below them! She lands properly seated but Adam cracks the seat with the back of his neck and falls to the ground and falls another row down. The fans are going wild.

NATE HOLLIS: Huge impact move there by Angelica Vaughn, and Adam Wolfe looks to be down and out!

BRAD STOKES: Not a far trip.

Angelica raises her hands and screams as her people cheer and wave around towels in the team colors. She jumps down to finish Adam but a hand pops up from the seat in front of her. On each finger is an accurate representation of some of her stablemates in puppet form. There’s Sativa Neveah, Kenzi Grey, Milisandre Crowthorne, Sarah Lacklan and Roxy Cotton.

BRAD STOKES: What. In the. hell?

NATE HOLLIS: Adam Wolfe’s puppet fascination….

They wiggle around and Wolfe rubs them against each other in front of a very confused Vaughn. He is able to rise slowly and holds his neck as he slowly distracts Vaughn with the puppets. She looks confused and more than a little creeped out.

BRAD STOKES: Like a snakecharmer, but with puppets…

She puts her hands out to get some answers and is met with a poke in the eyes. After the Franchinger, Adam jumps up and grabs her up to hit a jumping DDT on the concrete. The arena lets out an extinguishing gasp and then silence.

BRAD STOKES: Can’t believe she fell for that!

NATE HOLLIS: Adam Wolfe is as confounding a competitor as has ever walked a wrestling ring.

BRAD STOKES: Or, in this case, a football field.

Adam points to the Hit Girls logo on the end zone and kicks Angelica down the steps. She rolls down violently and splashes onto the field with Adam smugly strutting down after her.

NATE HOLLIS: Angelica Vaughn finds herself in a heap of trouble here, with Adam Wolfe getting a firm upper hand in this contest!

Wolfe picks her up on his shoulders and rummages around the ruins of the sidelines and manages to find and put on a helmet. He raises an arm and jogs to the end zone and dumps Angelica down hard with a running spinebuster.

BRAD STOKES: The thing I find creative here is not that he did that, this is a football field after all, but that he needed a football helmet to do it.

NATE HOLLIS: Again, Adam Wolfe is not normal. Don’t try to understand.

BRAD STOKES: Who’s trying? I’m just fan.

Adam jogs over to the 25 yard line and pretends to be on the offensive line. He spews out random numbers as Angelina starts to stand. Wolfe runs full tilt at her.

He reaches the 20…

The 10….

NATE HOLLIS: Angelica Vaughn needs to get up now!

Angelina gets up holding her midsection and slowly turns around to face Wolfe.

BRAD STOKES: Don’t encourage her Nate! This is exactly what needs to happen after that disappointing loss to Denver.

NATE HOLLIS: No it is not!

Wolfe is at the 5. Looks like he’s going for the Howler. He is about to lunge but is met with Angelina’s foot as she hits the Sick Kick on him and he twists in mid air and lands hard. He holds his helmet in his hands as Angelina crawls away.

NATE HOLLIS: Nice kick by the Hit Girls’ star kicker!

BRAD STOKES: Way to be an impartial force here, Nate. I wanted to see Adam Wolfe break her spine!


Angelica gets up as she reaches the sidelines and looks at her fans cheering her on with looks of concern and anger. She turns towards Wolfe who sits up with one more puppet on the middle finger of his other hand. It is a puppet Angelica Vaughn looking innocent and pure. He is showing it to her full bird and she gathers her strength and anger to run at him and hits the  #VAUGHNEMOUS kick! Adam’s helmet comes flying off and she pins.






The stadium blasts onto its feet with a loud cheer!

STADIUM ANNOUNCER: And your winner, representing YOUR Cincinatti HitGirls… ANGELICA…. VAUGHN!

Angelica raises her arm amid the raucous ovation from the crowd.

NATE HOLLIS: Huge victory there by Angelica Vaughn. She nearly kicked Adam Wolfe’s head clean off!

BRAD STOKES: And yet… she didn’t. What does a man have to do to watch some gratuitous head-kickage, Nate, huh? Does Angelica Vaughn need me to remove my jacket in order to be properly motivated to—

NATE HOLLIS: Just stop right there, Bradley. We have other matches, you might get your blood still.

BRAD STOKES: A guy can dream, Nate.

Cut to a highway side diner in the middle of the Arizona desert. There in the booth sits a man in his late 20s. The only polite word to describe him would be obese and that is being very kind indeed. He is nursing a cup of coffee and is twiddling his thumbs on the table in front of him.

Outside he hears the screech of tires that makes him turn his attention to the parking lot. A neon pink Chrysler Lebaron convertible flies down and then makes a sharp turn towards the diner, kicking up a huge cloud of dust before stopping just short of the front door. The sounds of Eddie Money’s Baby Hold On To Me are briefly heard before the driver kills the engine.

The driver’s side door flies open and out steps a man in his early twenties. He is wearing white jeans torn at the knee, a neon blue tank top and a well worn black leather jacket. The man stares through his single lens mirror sunglasses and then ties back his long greasy hair. He ascends the steps and walks into the front door.

The door hits a small bell that signals his arrival to the wait staff. An older woman saunters over to meet him but the man just keeps walking. He stomps up to the booth where the portly man sits. The driver stands at the table, just staring.

Kid Mega: I’m Mega. You Ham?

Hamish Charm: Y-y-yes.

Kid Mega: Decent.

Kid Mega flops down into the booth and pushes his sunglasses to the end of his nose.

Kid Mega: You got my shit?

Hamish Charm: Y-y-es right here.

Charm picks up a bag and goes to slowly hand it to Mega but Mega snatches it from his hand.

Kid Mega: Are you a fucking mad man? Have you never done this before? You can’t just pull this shit out in public, wave it all around. Jesus man, you’re gonna get us killed!

Hamish Charm: I’m sorry?

Kid Mega: Shut up. It’s all here?

Hamish Charm: It’s only one thing.

Mega opens the bag and we get a shot over his shoulder, it’s a unopened copy of the 1995 Super Nintendo Classic Castlevania Dracula X. Mega licks his hips in a perverse way.

Kid Mega: That’s...good...shit.

Hamish Charm: So...we agreed on $600?

Mega’s obsessed stare shifts from the video game to Charm. Mega starts laughing.

Kid Mega: $600? Fuck out of here man. This is a Super Nintendo game. They don’t even make that fucking console anymore. I’ll give you $10.

Hamish Charm: But you agreed to $600 on the phone. I could sell it on eBay for much more.

Kid Mega: This isn’t eBay chunker, this is real life. Real cash. The real cash in front of you is $10. That or I could just punch you in the fucking mouth, take this game, jump back into Pink Lemonade out there and peace the fuck out. Which would you rather?

Mega slaps a ten on the table. Charm considers his options, sighs and then accepts the ten. Mega smirks and shoots out of the booth. Mega walks past Charm but stops short, he looks down at him. Charm looks up at Mega and Mega feigns that he’s going to punch Charm but stops short.

Kid Mega: Good choice chunker.

With that Mega takes his leave. The camera pans back to the table and Charm picks up the ten dollar bill. Upon closer examination we see that it is a fake, it has Kid Mega’s picture on it and it reads “Your Best Pal”. The scene cuts.

BRAD STOKES: Who the hell were we just introduced to do, Nate?

NATE HOLLIS: Literally just told you at the end.

BRAD STOKES: I was too busy checking out these pictures Elina Cartel sent me on the Dee Emms.

NATE HOLLIS: She did not.

BRAD STOKES: Well somebody did. Whoa, we’re at another venue.

NATE HOLLIS: We are. Ready for another fight, one you may be particularly interested in.


Inside the Space Disco Club is a pulse of music and lighting that spills outside, giving the lineup of people unlucky enough not to get in something to dance to and shout over as they hold conversations. Elina Cartel pulls up to the entrance in a BMW with a lit cigarette in her mouth. She’s late but doesn’t seem to care. From the driver’s seat, her driver watches her every move quietly as she exits the car and steps onto the pavement where she butts out the cigarette and enters the club like she owns it. She does. 

BRAD STOKES: Ooooooooo baby.

NATE HOLLIS: Shut up, Bradley.

BRAD STOKES: She’s gotta have it, Nate. Just you watch.

Inside, the sea of people dancing parts at the sight of her, also on account of the incredibly odd beam of light that appeared on the dance floor several feet in front of her and materialized a leather clad, purple man, The Blackstar, right before their very eyes. Elina and the Scientologist Supreme lock eyes, having met once before tonight already, they’re not strangers.

BRAD STOKES: I think I know that guy!


He doesn’t give Elina a chance to put her guard up, nearly bowling over a few unsuspecting dancers as Blackstar rushes Elina and shoulder blocks her down to the floor.

BRAD STOKES: Yeah, pretty certain I know.

NATE HOLLIS: He’s some kind of scientologist.

BRAD STOKES: SCIENTOLOGIST SUPREME, Nate. Weren’t you watching the debate?

The music record scratches to a stop and the dancers become a stunned crowd of onlookers forming a circle around Elina Cartel and The Blackstar who towers over her with a snarl and gnash of teeth. the BLACKSTAR crosses his forearms over his chests, with his hands opened, palms facing outward, and fingers curled as if clutching invisible ORBS of COSMIC ENERGY. Then, violently, he throws his arms outward, parallel to the ground, hands still clutching these invisible-yet-IMPRESSIVE ORBS, and yells out


Elina Cartel rolls her shoulders, eyeing up at the taunting Scientologist.

ELINA CARTEL: Very well.

Elina Cartel rises methodically to face Blackstar who grins at her and lets loose a series of punches. Elina blocks each quickly and effortlessly and thrusts a palm strike out into Blackstar’s chest with enough velocity to send the larger man backing up with a shocked, annoyed, irritated even flabbergasted look of surprise.


Elina smirks coyly.


Blackstar moves in once more with more determination than previously and lets loose another stunning series of intended blows which Elina blocks, this time with far more effort, kicking Blackstars shin away and startling the Supreme one into reaching forth, grasping Elina by the wrist and whipping her sideways into the crowd of people who part, leaving Elina to smash into the broadside of the bar countertop.

NATE HOLLIS: A seemingly lopsided encounter on paper. Elina Cartel has home field advantage, but will it be enough against a being supposedly as old as the universe?

BRAD STOKES: Way to spoil the pick up line I was going to use on her after the show. Back to the damn drawing board now.

Blackstar doesn’t stand on ceremony now, as if realizing his opponent, while a mere mortal, appears to have more combat training than he’d expect, he rushes her and grips her by the neck and wrenches Elina back into him, crossing her arms in front of her and spinning her into a belly-to-back suplex into the hard dance floor!

NATE HOLLIS: Hard belly-to-back there. Can Elina get back up?

BRAD STOKES: You’re spoiling all my pickup lines, broski.

NATE HOLLIS: Are you being serious?

BRAD STOKES: I’m always serious.

Blackstar rises with a increasingly confident flourish coupled with a head-thrown back guffaw of uproariously pitying laughter. On the floor, Elina braces her pained shoulders, eyeing Blackstar who mocks her nearby, she rises with a burst of unassuming energy and swings a backwards punch right into Blackstar’s jaw. He wasn’t expecting that, his head whipping to one side. Elina Cartel leaps into a scissor kick that knocks Blackstar backwards into the bar, threatening to sprawl over the counter and behind it, but Elina is quick to move in and slam a series of hard closed fists into his kidneys to make sure the Scientologist Supreme remembers them.

NATE HOLLIS: Impressive!

BRAD STOKES: You’ve got to figure, if this guy Blackstar literally is who he claims to be he’s had military training the likes of which could put Elina Cartel to shame. How will she stand up to that?

Blackstar slams his elbows down collectively onto Elina’s shoulders to halt her advance, but the smaller female powers through the strength of her opponent and lifts a knee into his chin to stagger him, then bulldogs Blackstar into the hard dance floor amidst a raucous applause from the onlookers!

NATE HOLLIS: Elina Cartel is holding her own and then some against Blackstar right now!

Elina flips the Blackstar over and goes for a mount Blackstar wasn’t expecting. She slams fist after crushing fist down into the Blackstar’s face before he angrily powers up and forces the smaller woman off of him!

Blackstar is bewildered, leaning on his elbows and glaring at her as she smirks at him, with a sly wink, inviting him back to his feet as she does so. Blackstar follows, wiping a hand along his mouth checking for blood and finding none, though still chagrinned at Elina’s progress. She goads him to attack her, and Blackstar reluctantly obliges, this time adopting a more cautious stance as he closes in on her.

NATE HOLLIS: Blackstar’s gotta be patient. Elina Cartel was ready for him and has thus far turned his battle plan against him!

When Elina reaches for a strike, Blackstar blocks it, grips the back of Elina’s head and slams it down into his rising knee and then clotheslines her to the floor in a display of power and disdain! Only it doesn’t keep Elina down like Blackstar thought it would!


NATE HOLLIS: Elina’s athleticism clearly on display there!

Kipping up, which couples with a deftly executed headscissor takedown topples Blackstar unceremoniously to the floor, leaving room for Elina to climb back to her feet.

NATE HOLLIS: This fight’s taken its toll on both of these competitors! I’m not sure Blackstar was expecting this kind of offense from Elina!

BRAD STOKES: I sure wasn’t!

NATE HOLLIS: Your encouragement is overwhelming.


Blackstar grudgingly rises to a knee and glares at her before grabbing the leg of a stool from the bar and quickly launching it at Elina! The wooden stool glances off her shoulder as she rises to her feet! More of a distraction than a full-on attack, Blackstar rushes at Elina and scoops her up into a full-on body slam, complete with an arrogant sweep of his arms as he deigns to place a foot upon Elina’s chest for a cover!



The referee blends in and out of the crowd as Elina kicks up and out, much to Blackstar’s surprise and annoyance! 

NATE HOLLIS: Arrogant cover there by Blackstar, but a kickout by Elina Cartel!

Blackstar reaches down to grab her, only Elina rolls sideways catches his arm and pulls him down to the floor with her and locks on a painful looking armbar!

NATE HOLLIS: Nicely executed armbar!

BRAD STOKES: Break his arm! He threw a podium at me!

Blackstar indignantly struggles as Elina looks to have the armbar locked on tight! With a growl and an extended struggle, Blackstar reaches for broken splinters of wood from the stool he previously threw at Elina, grabs the longest, sturdiest piece of broken stool leg and slams it off Elina’s face! The blunt force enough to force Elina to relinquish the armbar to clutch what is quickly becoming a swollen eye!

BRAD STOKES: Funny, that’s exactly what I would have done. Does that make me a scientologist?

NATE HOLLIS: It just might.

Blackstar grumbles and seethes as he rises to his knees, glaring at Elina who grips the side of her face, for the moment ignoring the Scientologist supreme. Blackstar’s gritted teeth and favored shoulder indicate the fight he’s gotten wasn’t what he was expecting from Elina Cartel. Elina turns to glare at Blackstar, who’s rising distaste for this fight motivates him to quickly find the nearby bar, rebounds off it and rushes the still downed Elina, feints a kick with his left shin and then aims a shin kick with his right only to be stunned by Elina’s dodge sideways and shift her weight to raise a kick right up into Blackstar’s midsection, halting him in his tracks with a loud, angry, winded groan!

NATE HOLLIS: A missed #Disconnection!

BRAD STOKES: Blackstar’s not gonna like that!

Blackstar is stunned where he stands, Elina rising to her feet with a burst of momentum she grips the back of Blackstar’s head and goes for the double knee facebreaker!

NATE HOLLIS: Elina’s got him!

BRAD STOKES: I don’t believe it!

Blackstar’s indignant response to is pull upward and out of Elina’s attempt at a finisher, thrusting his fists downward to knock Elina down to the floor onto her back without making contact with The Blackstar. Angrily Blackstar sends a hefty kick into Elina’s side, then heaves her back to her feet and then SLAMS her back down with a high impact lariat!

NATE HOLLIS: The Reality Adjustment!

Blackstar drops to his knees next to Elina, grudgingly but unable to resist the pain in his midsection and breathlessly hooks Elina’s leg for a cover.




A DING! DING! DING! Rings over the Space Disco Club’s speaker system. The crowd of clubbers is a mix of boos and reluctant congratulations as Blackstar rises in exhaustion from the downed Elina.

NATE HOLLIS: Not the fight Blackstar was expecting. Elina took a lot out of him.

BRAD STOKES: So much for his Thetan, huh? HAHAHAHAHA WHAT A CROCK.

NATE HOLLIS: He still won.

BRAD STOKES: True. I still reserve the right to mock him relentlessly. Especially on twitter where he can’t throw stuff at me.

NATE HOLLIS: Mighty brave of you.

Blackstar stumbles back to a clear portion of the bar and dematerializes in a beam of light.

BRAD STOKES: What the hell, was that CGI?

NATE HOLLIS: I really don’t think so, Bradley.

BRAD STOKES: Yea… best just forget that ever happened. Where’d I put my neuralizer I got from the M.I.B.

NATE HOLLIS: While Bradley searches for what I’m hoping will be a handgun, one has to admit that Blackstar pulled out a tough win against an incredibly tough competitor in Elina Cartel.

BRAD STOKES: It was a good fight. Better luck next time. Show me your boobies, blah blah blah.


Later on, Elina is sitting on a bench in a park. She’s been chain smoking for the last forty five minutes and it doesn’t appear that it’s changing any time soon. She pulls out her phone and sees a message from Sonny:

SONNY: He has agreed to your terms and wants to meet you.

Elina moves the cigarette over to the left side of her mouth and cocks her head to the side to avoid smoke getting into her eyes. She replies:

ELINA CARTEL: I sent you my location and I’ve been waiting for an hour. What’s your eta?

SONNY: Ten minutes.

Elina sets her phone on the bench beside her and continues to absorb the night’s events. She uses her last cigarette to light and nurses tender ribs. When she turns to the right, the park lights illuminate bruising across her cheek.

She whispers, “For though they may be parted there is...Still a chance that they will see...There will be an answer...Let it be.”

She lets out a soft laugh, taking a long drag off of the cigarette. In the distance, a car pulls up, her knees are illuminated in the darkness by the headlights.

She continues, “And when the night is cloudy...There is still a light that shines on me...Shine until tomorrow...Let it be…”

In front of her are Sonny, Maddox-the driver, and someone new.

Elina’s eyes brighten. She recognizes the new person. She stands right up and drops her cigarette.

She whispers, “He looks just like you…”

The three approach her.

Sonny nods, “Elina Cartel, meet Cedric. Cedric Greene.”

Cedric extends his hand and Elina returns the gesture, they shake hands.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Cedric smiles.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Greene.”

“So, you’re looking for fighters?” Cedric asks.

“Not necessarily, I’m looking to give you an opportunity.”

“Opportunity? That’s all I need.”

“The money is good. There will be challenge.”

“I’m all about a challenge,” Cedric smiles.

“Good,” Elina nods, “Maddox will take you to your new residence. Sonny and I need to talk. I’ll see you soon.”

“Great. Great. I’ll see you then?”

Elina and Cedric’s eyes meet. She sees something that both excites and scares her. She nods and gives him a feeble smile. As Maddox and Cedric walk back to the car, Sonny stands next to Elina.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Elina sighs, “I don’t know, but it’s good to see him again.”

“He is not the same man you once knew.”

“I know this, but still.”

Sonny puts an arm over Elina’s shoulder.

“Just be careful.”


The two wrestlers find themselves on the third floor of the Jesus Freak Camp inside of a wrestling ring, waiting for the bell to sound.


As soon as it does, Carlos Cruz and Zack Fantana start circling around one another, waiting to see who makes the first move.




NATE HOLLIS: Will you quit shouting?


NATE HOLLIS: I’m sure you are. He was a pretty big deal back in the AWE. But right here? Right now? He’s going up against another pretty big deal here in F2W?

BRAD STOKES: Who? Oh, the bald guy? Yeah. Real cool. IT’S ZACK FANTANA! THE FANTANASY!

NATE HOLLIS: Carlos Cruz is a recently anointed hardcore champion, Brad. Your little love affair with Zack Fantana might be about to end.

BRAD STOKES: Do you have to be so biased?


BRAD STOKES: I stand corrected, yet refuse to change my ways.

Zack and Carlos step in at the same time and meet in the center of the ring. Fantana calls for a test of strength as he brings his hand up and Cruz follows through by grabbing onto Zack’s hand, then locking up with his other. It’s a feeling out process early on, but Cruz gets the early advantage, pulling Fantana over to the ropes and popping up on the top one, showcasing some impressive lucha inspired skills by falling onto the rope, getting back up, and jumping off to throw Zack across the ring with an arm drag.

BRAD STOKES: Disqualified! He’s not allowed to do that!

NATE HOLLIS: What are you talking about? Not only is that legal, that is mighty impressive.

BRAD STOKES: Et tu, Nate? Huh? This match is rigged against my boy, Zack.

Zack tries to fire back in, but gets a dropkick for his efforts. With Fantana seated on the mat recovering, Cruz shoots a kick right at Zack’s back. After the first one, Carlos connects with a second one right across Zack’s chest and this one knocks him down onto the canvas. Cruz drops down for a quick pin attempt, but Fantana is able to kick out before a count is made.

NATE HOLLIS: Quick kick out by Zack!


NATE HOLLIS: You know, Carlos Cruz is in this match, too?

BRAD STOKES: You know where my allegiances lie.

NATE HOLLIS: Yet another reason I wish you hadn’t signed that contract.


Carlos starts to lift Zack up when he gets blasted by a European uppercut. Fantana backs Cruz up into the ropes with a series of forearms before launching him across the ring. On the rebound, Zack sends Carlos flying with a back body drop and tries a quick pin of his own, but again, a kick out before the one count.

NATE HOLLIS: Nothing doing there for Zack. Carlos Cruz has a lot of energy going into this fight, Zack better be on his toes.

BRAD STOKES: Sheeeeeesh. Why don’t you cheer for Zack, Nate?

NATE HOLLIS: Because I’m trying impartial, like you should be?

BRAD STOKES: Booooooooooring. GO ZACK!

Lifting his opponent off the mat, Fantana starts to dictate the pacing of the match as he slows it down with a hard knee right to Cruz’s midsection. The knee doubles Carlos over and Zack uses that time to hit the ropes, but on his way back, Cruz is ready to send Fantana up and over the ropes. Luckily for Zack, he catches himself on the ring apron , but not as lucky when he eats a forearm from Carlos. Cruz wraps his arm around Fantana’s neck, looking for a suplex into the ring, but Zack holds his ground and manages to reverse it! Both men crashing down to the outside, the crowd starts buzzing now that the action has spilled out of the ring.

NATE HOLLIS: Nice reversal, but these two are evenly matched.

The first wrestler back to his feet is Zack Fantana and he picks Carlos up, throwing him right into the ring post. Zack uses this time to recover and catch this breath, but that only allows him to get caught off guard as Carlos runs in with a shotgun dropkick that sends Fantana flying back into the crowd. Cruz quickly follows after Fantana and lifts him up, trying to drag him back to the ring, but Zack throws his elbow into Carlos’ side. The elbow causes Carlos to lose his grip on Zack, but he retaliates with an elbow right to the side of Fantana’s head. The two begin trading elbows on the outside, but Cruz gets the upper hand after a particularly nasty one catches Fantana. Zack is barely standing when Carlos comes in with his Divine Super Kick!

NATE HOLLIS: Carlos nails Zack with the Divine Super Kick!

BRAD STOKES: Cheating!


The superkick connects perfectly and down Fantana goes, but Cruz wastes valuable time as he has to lift Zack’s body up and roll him into the ring. Carlos rolls after and hooks the legs.




NATE HOLLIS: Precious seconds wasted. Carlos can get those back if he keeps up the pressure!

Not letting his frustration take over, Carlos lets Zack stay on the mat as he climbs up to the top turnbuckle, and begins to steady himself. Feeling confident, Cruz goes off the top for his Celestial Dive! The frog splash connects just as Fantana brings up his knees! It’s an ugly landing for Carlos and a worse situation as Zack rolls him up for a pin!




BRAD STOKES: WHAT?! Slow Count, Ref!

NATE HOLLIS: Carlos barely avoided the pin there!

As Cruz breaks free of the roll up, he slides back up to his feet, and goes for another Divine Super Kick, but Fantana sidesteps it and grabs Carlos for his Sleep Apnea! The pumphandle gutbuster puts Cruz down, but before Fantana can even try for a pin, Carlos wisely rolls out of the ring.

NATE HOLLIS: Smart move by Carlos Cruz. He’s learned a lot, he ought to given the family pedigree he’s got.

BRAD STOKES: True. But Zack Fantana’s got one thing Carlos Cruz doesn’t got.


BRAD STOKES: Millions of Fantanamaniacs.

NATE HOLLIS: Not sure how many of them are currently in attendance at Carlos’ home turf.


Zack slaps the canvas in anger, but not letting the moment escape from him, he waits patiently for Carlos to start getting back up to his feet before he hits the ropes and flies out of the ring with a suicide dive! The two men come crashing down to the outside for the second time in the match, but this go around, they’re both slower to get to their feet.

NATE HOLLIS: Fantana and Cruz are both adept at high flying, both accustomed to putting their bodies on the line.

BRAD STOKES: It’s definitely not the smartest career path to take in wrestling. Hence why I’m a color commentator.

Surprisingly, it’s Carlos who gets up first, but Zack isn’t that far behind. A roundhouse kick keeps Fantana right where Cruz wants him and a snap suplex to the outside gives complete control to Carlos. He picks Fantana up and rolls him back into the ring, dropping a quick elbow on Zack in the process. Picking him up off the mat again, Carlos drags Zack to the center of the ring before he hits the ropes for his springboard cutter known as the Ultimate Sacrifice! But it’s not time for a pin just yet as Cruz pulls Fantana a bit closer to one of the corners.

NATE HOLLIS: Fantana’s in trouble!

Once Fantana is in position, Cruz jumps up to the top rope and steadies himself, looking to finish the match yet again. It’s time for the double foot stomp off the top that Carlos calls the Solemn Truth! But again, Zack avoids it by narrowly rolling out of the way. Cruz lands on his feet and rolls back up to a standing base.

NATE HOLLIS: Close call!

But as soon as he does, Fantana is right there for his Reverie! Though, it doesn’t connect as Cruz pushes Fantana down before he can get a grasp of Zack!

NATE HOLLIS: Another near-miss!

Carlos grabs onto Zack’s legs and floats over in a pinning predicament!




BRAD STOKES: Mile a minute action! Gotta hand it to Carlos Cruz!

NATE HOLLIS: He’s definitely impressing here tonight!

Fantana just kicks out and Cruz tries to capitalize on his position by pulling Zack in for a waist lock. Whatever Carlos is about to try gets foiled as Zack sends his elbow back into Cruz’s head. A few more shots and Cruz is forced to release his hold on Fantana, which allows him to get some space, and to send Carlos on a Sleepwalk! The Pele kick connects and Cruz falls down to the mat. Fantana is a bit dazed, but he’s aware enough to pull himself up to the top rope.

NATE HOLLIS: Zack’s looking for something big here!

 Zack launches off for his Lucid Dreams! The corkscrew shooting star press connects and Fantana holds on for the pin!





ANNOUNCER: And your winner… ZACK… FANTANA!

Zack Fantana lifts an arm in victory as Carlos heaves in air.

NATE HOLLIS: Big win there for Zack Fantana.

BRAD STOKES: That’s my boy!

NATE HOLLIS: Even you of all people can give Carlos Cruz credit in that one. He took Zack Fantana to his limits.

BRAD STOKES: Sure. Why not give the kid some credit. But come on. I was cheering for Zack Fantana before he was even born.

NATE HOLLIS: Zack pulled out an impressive win, but Carlos Cruz came close enough to do it himself.

BRAD STOKES: Them’s the breaks and all that.

Somewhere deep within the slow eternal dance of the heavens drifts a planet called 'Earth', in an undisclosed location the sounds of shovels digging into the dirt echoed throughout, the night sky black as only a few clouds appeared overhead. The score to the scene began to play as light synthesizer tones took over, ominous tunes playing in the background as the camera slowly moved in. The tune in particular was 'In the Face of Evil' by Magic Sword and the sinister hum of the music echoed through the intro of the piece. Strange, white mask clad individuals dug in the dirt while a strange fog surrounded.. a bright pink and blue light popping up in a specific section of the fog, illuminating it.

MASKED MAN #1: We've been digging this forever, you think it's deep enough?

MASKED MAN #2: Boss said he wanted and this is in his words, 'a giant ass pit', we're gonna dig him a pit.

The video seemed to skip ahead in a weird jump cut, the film going grainy as they'd finished digging the pit and then began to drag a tarp over it. Slowly the camera focused in on the wall of fog when slowly it scanned down to a pair of boots stepping through, the white boots rather stylish along with a matching pair of pants before moving around this unknown individual. From what could be seen before the camera transitioned, he was shirtless but wore a white jacket with splashes of pink on it.

Among the otherwise unremarkable population of this planet known as 'Earth' exists one incredible hero, destined to save the planet from itself.. The cameras finally zoomed up to his face and.. holy gee gosh golly it was Brennan Devlin! Yes, that Brennan Devlin, the screen even said so as a tag with his name on it appeared on the bottom of the screen. A super stylized font that seemed to be followed with a myriad of his nicknames 'The Face of Wrestling', 'King Kong of Dong', 'Four Course Meal of Sex Appeal', 'The Big Dog of Hog' and before it could load anymore, it seemed to glitch out and disappear from the screen due to inability to load them all.

BRENNAN DEVLIN: Is the pit ready?

Devlin questioned as he peered at it, looking at the men. He held a leash in his hand as two little Pomeranian dogs, both white colored ran up, those dogs of course being Tinkles and Gary for the uninitiated.

MASKED MAN #1: I mean, I think it's deep enough.. why did you want this anyway?

BRENNAN DEVLIN: Obviously I want it because when people come here to fight me, they'll step on the tarp I drape over it, fall in and at the bottom will be these Hellhounds.

MASKED MAN #2: ... Hell hounds? Those are very tiny dogs, sir..

BRENNAN DEVLIN: They hate that you know.

Brennan turned around and looked to the camera while in the background the tiny dogs dived on the man, grabbing him by the leg and taking him to the ground. The second masked man tried to crawl out of the way while the dogs ravaged his leg as he crawled out of frame.


You know, I've been away for a while from the business, whether it's wrestling, fighting, whatever you'd classify this as.. I've been gone. For a time, I'm sure everyone, everyone thought that they'd never hear the name Brennan Devlin again.. Yet here I stand before you, bright light surrounding me and it's like this business which essentially stopped existing while I was away. suddenly, you're all a thing again. You all have a purpose, you all have a reason to be again and you know what that purpose is?

That purpose is to be pawns in my game..

I'm holding this company, this entire business hostage and we will play to the end. It's no secret I've always existed on a higher plane of consciousness. I'm ahead of each and every person in F2W both mentally and physically, especially so called 'female athletes'. But I'm not here to rehash a rant I've dropped a million times. No. I just want you all to know beyond the fact that you all exist again, beyond the fact that I am here to single-handedly make F2W relevant.  Rejoice, enjoy yourselves, be merry and have a gay ole time because very soon your reasons for excitement will dwindle..  Take what you can, while you can.”

Devlin stood over the pit as the cameras took an angle to get a view of him looking up at the sky, the screams of the man being assaulted by the tiny dogs in the background.

BRENNAN DEVLIN: From now on, you have what I allow you to have, you take what I allow you to take. This is /my/ world, this is /my/ reality and you are all simply allowed to rent and take up what little space you have in it.. But test me, go on, try, test me and I'll do to you what I plan on doing to the so called little girl female athletes that infect this business. I'll erase you completely.. You might not understand now, but you will one day thank me, because if you're a part of an infection and trust me, most of this roster are just that.. I'll chop off a limb to save the whole thing.

Brennan slowly turned his gaze towards the camera that happened to be recording him, a smile appearing on his lips as he slowly turned towards it.

BRENNAN DEVLIN: I'll be seeing you all next Melee.

Slowly we faded out to black, some brief static filling up the screen as the audio slowly faded out with the tiny dog growls.

Back to the broadcast center with Nate Hollis and Brad Stokes!

NATE HOLLIS: What. A. Show!

BRAD STOKES: I’ve seen better.

NATE HOLLIS: I doubt it. You’d be hard pressed to find a better first episode of anything, anywhere. What a jumping off point for the future of this company!

BRAD STOKES: Meh. It could have been a lot better if I’m being honest. Nobody died.

NATE HOLLIS: Perhaps next time, Bradley Stokes. Meanwhile, fight fans, until next time, thanks for watching Fight 2 Win’s first episode of Melee. Come back next episode for—

..: Not so fast, gentlemen.

The voice comes from the large television behind them. Angelina Altamonte is on the screen.

BRAD STOKES: Oh…. Oh man… it’s… it’s really you. ANGELINA ALTAMONTE.


Brad Stokes melts.

NATE HOLLIS: Figures you'd let her call you Bradley.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: I have that effect on people.

NATE HOLLIS: No arguments here. Ladies and Gentleman, allow us to introduce you to our illustrious—

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Spare the introduction, Nathan, this has nothing to do with me.

Nate frowns. Angelina Altamonte is on screen, nestled comfortably in her office, apparently sending them a broadcast.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Before we can end the show, there are a few matters we need to attend to first.


Angelina smiles.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Of course you will, but for now let’s discuss the recipient of this month’s promised t-shirt.

BRAD STOKES: You were serious about giving out t-shirts?

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: I was. It’s not gold, or even expensive, but some awards hold a different value.

BRAD STOKES: Yea… right.


ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Upon opening the F2W, we teased the concept of a monthly kudos t-shirt. It can easily sound like a joke to people who may have trouble thinking out of the box. This month’s recipient has no problem there. This Kudos T-Shirt,

She holds it up for the camera.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Isn’t plated with gold, or emblazoned on a belt. It’s meant with the utmost respect to a competitor deemed worthy of it. It’s especially made for a particular person, with a particular underlying idea. May the recipient wear it with pride, and honor the spirit in which it was given. This month’s kudos t-shirt goes to…. Elina Cartel.

BRAD STOKES: My other wife?

NATE HOLLIS: Cool it in front of the boss, man.


ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Ms. Cartel earned it.

NATE HOLLIS: A nice gesture, Ms. Altamonte.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: And I’m not through giving, gentlemen.

BRAD STOKES: Here it comes! I’m ready!

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: It would be foolish of us not to capitalize on this first show without crowning our first Melee Champion. It is a title defended every show, after all.


ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: No. But I have selected two competitors from our current active roster to go head to head to become Fight 2 Win’s first Melee champion.

NATE HOLLIS: Out of tonight’s competitors? How did you pick who would compete?

Angelina Altamonte responds with a wry, knowing smile.

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: Very carefully, Nathan. We chose two of whom I deem the worthiest of the worthy. Tonight, F2W will host one more match… between Natalie King and The Blackstar, for the Melee Championship, fighting aboard the Starship Theta.

BRAD STOKES: Whaaaaat?

NATE HOLLIS: Two, completely worthy competitors, no doubt, Ms. Altamone! But we have a whole slew of incredibly talented fighters, perhaps you’d like to—

BRAD STOKES: Don’t question her, Nate!

ANGELINA ALTAMONTE: This isn’t a democracy, Nathan. Every choice I make is for the good of this company. Blackstar and Natalie King will fight in tonight’s main event. And one of them will end this show as our first ever Melee Champion. Enjoy the rest of the show, gentlemen.

Angelina’s screen shuts off, leaving Nate and Brad in the broadcast center!

We cut to a wide shot in space, with the earth in the background, and the momentarily de-cloaked Starship Theta as it floats in orbit around earth.

Inside, amidst the stunningly ominous biomechanical complexity work ship’s crew manning controls. Overlooking the earth, and the crew, is David Miscavige, Chairman of the Board of Scientology and Commander of Starship Theta. Preparations have been underway for the better part of two hours since learning of the impending fight to be held aboard the glorious flagship.

Behind David Miscavige, with a shadow casting a pall along the sterile pathway toward him was an operating Thetan approaching the commander with a message.

“Whispers for you, sir.”

David Miscavige gives a barely audible sigh. Hardly the time to be receiving news. He turns an ear to the messenger.

“Word has it of an infiltrator aboard this vessel, sir.”

“How?” Miscavige frowns to himself.

“Unsure. Strange reports of unsanctioned inbound emanations from earth.”

“Have they been discovered?”

“No, sir. Things have been going missing. Routine ship maintenance tasks have been missed. Duty rosters changed. It is difficult to ascertain the purpose behind these disturbances.” David Miscavige cringed. Now was certainly not the time for news, especially news of this nature.

“Have you told anyone?”

“Only you. I believe it wise to inform the Supreme—“

“No.” Miscavige hissed. “He’s not to be disturbed while he prepares for his next bout of combat, especially not for rumors. We must discover the identity of our infiltrator first.”

“Very well, sir,” the messenger nodded. And that was that.

Overhead lights illuminate the bowl aboard Starship Theta. A crowd of thousands of spectators roar at the ready for the promise of stunning combat inside of this gladiator style arena.

NATE HOLLIS: You ready, Bradley?

BRAD STOKES: Is this really a spaceship?!

NATE HOLLIS: I’m having trouble saying it’s not after all that we’ve seen!

BRAD STOKES: Then I don’t think I’m ready.

A spot light kicks on a tunnel, as Natalie King strides out into the bowl showered with a chorus of boos.

BRAD STOKES: That’s my girl right there! You see that! Natalie King took on Alfie Tenner earlier, kicked a unicorn and drank pee water and she ain’t walking with no limp! Just call my girl 50 Cent!

NATE HOLLIS: Pretty dated reference, Bradley.

BRAD STOKES: I don’t really care.

BLACKOUT. The bowl is enshrouded in total darkness. A low hum of double bass strings and organs builds below. MUSIC QUEUE: A lone trumpet rise 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 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 full of high ranking members of the church of scientology. They give him the SUPREME salute, to which he shouts SUPREME with them.

The THIRD and FINALE FANFARE 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.

BRAD STOKES: AWWWWWWWW! That was badass! He’s gonna win!


BRAD STOKES: Haven’t you ever seen one of those movies where the guy with the coolest entrance wins? I mean, I love Natalie King and all but her entrance? SNOOOOOZERZ.

NATE HOLLIS: She’s onboard dude’s starship!

BRAD STOKES: You still make a good entrance, Nate. That’s a rule.

Without warning a spotlight illuminates the Melee Championship belt atop a metallic trophy dais at the side of the bowl! Both competitors eye the welcome sight, and then one another.

NATE HOLLIS: This is going to be a fantastic bout! Still wondering why Angelina Altamonte chose these two over everybody—

BRAD STOKES: Get over it! These two are THE BEST. You heard her.

NATE HOLLIS: She never said that.

BRAD STOKES: She may as well have.

NATE HOLLIS: Something’s not sitting right, Stokes. Something’s going on.

BRAD STOKES: Yeah! We’re about to be given the championship fight of a LIFETIME!


The Blackstar confidently steps into the center of the ring to meet Natalie King. Blackstar glares down at her before she pops off an unexpectedly sudden jab that staggers Blackstar. The crowd boos immediately!

BRAD STOKES: Pretty sure I saw half of these people at that debate I moderated.

NATE HOLLIS: There’s a good chance of that.

Blackstar slams a side elbow in retaliation back into Natalie King’s jaw sending her spinning to one side, and quickly follows up with a Japanese Arm drag sending Natalie King down to the canvas, but Blackstar doesn’t let go, hanging onto the arm and twisting Natalie King back up to her feet to wrench the arm nearly clean out of it’s socket!

NATE HOLLIS: Blackstar working the arm of Natalie King! This is definitely not the best of positions to be in, especially not on the home turf of this guy.

BRAD STOKES: He’s got the touch. He’s got the power!

NATE HOLLIS: Shut up, Brad.

BRAD STOKES: I feel like I need to branch out my science fiction references now that I’ve officially watched a wrestling match take place on a spaceship. What’s Galaxy Quest like?

NATE HOLLIS: Watch it.
Blackstar wrenches Nat’s arm further, twisting it in behind her and wrenching it further and uncomfortably much to the incited pleasure of the throng of scientologists watching their supreme leader! Blackstar spins Nat around, mainting control of her arm, and utilizing the momentum to slam a forearm into Nat’s chest, dropping her hard to the mat!

Just then—a power outage ripples through the overhead lights, shudders the otherwise consistently whisper quiet hum of the ship’s engines. It halts Blackstar’s momentum as he glances up with a confusion he’s unaccustomed to. Every spectator looks around in similar confusion as the ship’s lights go dark.

BRAD STOKES: Uh…. Another ring entrance?

The lights return to normal, and Nat King has taken advantage of the momentary distraction to slam a series of kicks into Blackstar’s midsection to double him over, utilized all of her strength to rise back to her feet and slammed a stunning spin kick into Blackstar’s face that whips him sideways but fails to fell the Scientologist Supreme! Natalie rushes him where he stands and slams him into the mat with an exploder suplex!

NATE HOLLIS: Explosive offence there, but what’s going on with Starship Theta?

BRAD STOKES: It’s really a soundstage in Nevada.

Blackstar grits his teeth and rises to a knee to glare at Nat King who blows him a mock kiss.

Elsewhere aboard the ship.

David Miscavige grit his teeth, unsure of how to make the crew work more feverishly than they already were to ensure the power outage wouldn’t happen again. The lights did flicker, the ship suddenly lurched unexpectedly. The operator level thetan who had deliver the previous message stood nearby.

“How is this happening?” Miscavige hissed.

“I told you, sir. We’ve been infiltrated. Someone’s manipulating the ship’s controls!”

“Well find them!”

“It could be anyone, sir!”

Miscavige’s heart raced, his worries set on the fight going on in the arena.

Back to the fight.

Blackstar rushes Natalie King, catching her in a sudden frankensteiner!

Just then—once more the lights flicker and dim to off.


The lights surge back on, only for the ship to suddenly and unexpectedly lurch downwards towards Florida at a dizzying speed. Spectators hang on tight, Blackstar is launched forward to slam painfully against the wall of the tunnel entrance Natalie emerged from just as the ship rights itself! Blackstar crumples in a heap, clutching his back as he tries to rise to his feet.

Natalie King has returned to her feet and rushed the slowly rising Scientologist Supreme and extending a knee for his head, but Blackstar ducks the knee, grips her leg and redirects Natalie off the same wall he just glanced off of with a CRACK!

The scientologists in attendance CHEER to see their Supreme one reasserting himself. He rises to his feet sluggishly and slams a knee hard into Nat’s side as she struggles to rise to all fours and flops her onto her back. He drops a set of knees down onto her chest with a bloodthirsty growl before rising back to his feet.

Just as the power once more flickers out of control. The Blackstar eyes his starship with anger at the unprecedented failures its experiencing. And then, much to his surprise, the ship pitches forward. Natalie King grabs hold of the wall, but Blackstar is suddenly thrust upwards at the lack of gravity! Blackstar throttles upwards at an incredible speed before slamming into the overhead videotron with a loud CRACK and explosion of electricity!

The ship reorients itself, and Blackstar hurtles downward back to the canvas with an angry, bloody thud!

NATE HOLLIS: Stop this fight! Someone’s messing with the venue!!!

BRAD STOKES: Fair is fair!

NATE HOLLIS: Naw, man, Blackstar’s wounded!

Indeed, Blackstar is bloodied and clearly in pain. The crowd of scientologists is climbing from their seats ready to help the Scientologist Supreme until Natalie King slams a hard knee into Blackstar’s face and goes for a quick cover!




NATE HOLLIS: I don’t believe it!

BRAD STOKES: She did it! I knew she would do it! Natalie King is our first Melee Champion!

Natalie King can tell she’s in a bad way when the crowd of scientologists are clamoring out of their seats in a roar of boos.

NATE HOLLIS: They know something’s up too!

BRAD STOKES: Standard Scientologist behavior right there!

NATE HOLLIS: Someone sabotaged that fight, Bradley!!!!


NATE HOLLIS: I have no idea! But that was a robbery, plain and simple!

Natalie King rushes for the Melee Belt and plucks it from its pedestal in time to see the crew of the ship rushing her. Before they reach her, she dematerializes off the ship…


“And that, ladies and gentleman, is why Fight 2 Win is crooked.”

Francis Ford Cuppola stood smugly in the center of the room, eyeing the assembled guests in his drawing room in his palatial mansion somewhere in Louisiana.

“…Becase this Angelina Altamone told you not to feed your Mogwai glue…?”

Francis was startled, and answered with agitation.

“It’s not in the rules! Who said that, anyway?”

Her face on the computer screen set up on the table smiled at him.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” he asked obliviously.

“It’s a skype call, Francis.” Thirteen corrected. “I’m in Boston. I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“What the hell are you doing in Boston?”

Thirteen shrugged uncomfortably.

“I-it’s a long story. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That’s fine. Not sure what a skype is, but my point stands. Fight 2 Win is up to no good, and it’s up to us to figure out a) what that no good is, and b) how to stop it so I can run the company.”

“You need something more to go on than your mogwai thing, Francis.”

“Who said that?”

“I did.” Rodney sat on the sofa sipping his tea.

“Right. Exactly. I keep forgetting you’re there, Rodney. Better get a bell on.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. They were all there. Mister Mississagi and the French Mime Assassins, Rodney, Thirteen on the laptop screen.

“He’s right,” came the voice of the final person in the room.

“What?” Rodney quizzed, eyeing Kass, then looking away. She managed to give him the willies with those eyes of hers. Kassandrah betrayed no expression.

“About Fight 2 Win. It’s crooked.”

“See?” Francis smiled triumphantly. “Kelly knows.”

“Kassandrah,” Thirteen corrected. Francis eyed her, aggrieved.

“I’m right.” Francis nodded, assuredly. “Place is dirty, and it’s up to US to clean it up, to solve the mystery, and to save the day. Like the Scooby Gang!” Francis smiled at each of them.

“Oh god no,” Rodney groaned. Francis nodded.

“That’s right, Rod. I told you I bought the Mystery Machine for a reason.”

“That’s kinda cool!” Thirteen exclaimed.

“I know, right?” Francis agreed. “Together, we’ll get that federation back under its rightful control, mine.” He caught disparaging glances from Rodney, Kassandrah and Thirteen and corrected himself. “I mean ours. Who’s with me?”

Eyes lowered, unwilling at first, but the energized buoyancy of Francis Ford Cuppola was, admittedly, tough to neutralize.

“I’m in,” Thirteen smiled.

“Me too,” Kassandrah assented.  Mister Mississagi nodded silently, and the two mimes mimed energetic agreement, and a potential lewd gesture at Thirteen.

“Knock it off, Mimes,” Francis shuddered. “What say you, Rodney? Are you with us?”

Rodney hid his eyes, not wanting to go along on this journey.

“Unite us, Rodney.” Francis extended his hand like asking for an oath.


Rodney rolled his eyes, sucked in his breath and placed his hand on Francis’ reluctantly.

“Yea! Rod’s in!” Francis grinned. “The gang’s back together!”

Slowly, one by one hands extended on top of Francis’ in an inspiring group hand thing.

“”teen? You wanna get in on this?”

He eyed Thirteen in the laptop screen.

“Uh… I-I’m on skype. Like literally hundreds of miles away…”

“I don’t see why that stops you from togetherness.”

Rodney rolled his eyes.

And thus, it came to pass the beginning of the fellowship of…

Well, whatever that is.