[The scene fades from black, taking the viewer straight to the headquarters of LEGACY Pro. The paint is still fresh and the furniture lacks the faintest hint of dust. It is progress. It is new. And as with all offices of wrestling organizations, there are wrestlers awaiting audience. This person of interest in particular is one Scottie Saratoga, sitting not so patiently outside the office of L-PRO owner and president Tom Landis. Scottie is wearing overalls and a red t-shirt. Tattoos cover both of her arms, and her hair is tied back in a ponytail. With one eye she stares shifty-eyed at Landis' middle aged secretary. With the other, she proofreads what she has blogged so far on her laptop.] Scottie's War Journal Entry #42: *This office reeks of overweight contractors more concerned with getting loose meat sandwiches at the deli around the corner than actually doing a quality job. Tom Landis certainly didn't let his wife pick the colors for the office because even the blind would cry upon seeing the color scheme. I do not trust this secretary. I suspect she is a succubus searching for the souls of the damned.* Secretary: Can I get you some coffee while you wait, dear? SS: You'd like that wouldn't you? [Without warning, the door to Tom Landis' private office opens. From it steps another notable redhead, one Tesla St. James. She doesn't look pleased coming from her meeting and upon taking a few steps into the waiting area, she locks eyes with Scottie and Scottie with her. A metaphorical tumbleweed crosses between them and the secretary takes flight. Or just goes to meet with her boss.] SS: This is perfect. What the hell are you doing here? TSJ: Just when I didn't think this day could possibly be any worse, I'm proven wrong. SS: That's nothing new for you. I'd expect you be used to it by now. TSJ: And I'd expect you to be trolling nuns and Boy Scouts in the comments section of anywhere and everywhere. [Scottie sets down her computer, now more agitated than ever.] SS: I'm pretty sure I still owe you several good kicks to the head. TSJ: Right, here I am working for you, trying to get a women's division instated in LEGACY Pro and you're already set to [MEEP] over everything. This is why we can't have nice things. SS: You're doing what? You're trying to get a women's division going? Like I buy that for an instant! TSJ: Then what are you doing here? SS: None of your damn business! [Just as the two fiery competitors are about to go toe to toe, the secretary steps out of Landis' office.] Secretary: Miss Saratoga, they'll see you now. But I don't think you'll have any luck getting your jobs back. [Awkward silence.] SS: Right... TSJ: Well... [The secretary takes one step into Landis' office, speaking to her boss off screen.] Secretary: You were right. They were about to throw down. Female Voice: I'll handle this. Secretary: Uh oh, you two have stepped in it now. [Out from Landis' office comes another familiar face, this one blond: Tara "Sunburst" Marshall, part owner of LEGACY Pro and Landis' better half.] TSM: You two. Follow me. Now. [Tara walks away without meeting the eyes of Tesla or Scottie. But the two redheads turn to one another and for the first time ever, are of the same mind.] SS and TSJ: [MEEP]. [Fade.] ______ __ __ | __ \.----.-----.---.-.| |--.-----.--.--.| |_ | __ <| _| -__| _ || <| _ | | || _| |______/|__| |_____|___._||__|__|_____|_____||____| LEGACY-Pro Arena >-< June 27th, 2015 [Shatter through the opening sequence, set to "Roots" by Imagine Dragons, and we fade into the middle of L-PRO Arena. It's capacity crowd is buzzing and on their collective feet, the excitement palpable. The LEGACY Pro logo is draped all over the place, banners hanging from the rafters and covering each side of the ring apron, which is black with the canvas of the ring a slate grey color. White ropes and black ringposts complete the look, as the camera up on the jib arm flies overhead and over the heads of the fans down at ringside.] AM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to L-PRO BREAKOUT, episode number two! [Pyro explodes over the ringside area, as another larger banner drops that also bears the L-PRO logo. The music continues to play over the scene as we cut quickly to a camera in the middle of the entry way, fixed up towards the entrance stage area and the video wall. The small ramp leads up to the slightly elevated stage, as spotlights swirl all over it. Another cut brings us to the announcer position to the left of the stage, at which sits Amy Marshall and Sam Steeley behind a large black desk with monitors and iPad stations in front of them. Amy grins for the camera and speaks again.] AM: I'm Amy Marshall alongside my co-host, the one and only Sam Steeley and we've got another packed edition of Breakout for you this evening! We have the beginnings of the tournament to crown the first ever Legacy Tag Team Champions with two huge first round matchups! The HEAT tangles with the Taylor Twins in the first match, and then in the other it'll be Max and Sal squaring off with the Midnight Children! SS: Yeah and none of that will matter if Black Mass Forever has anything to say about it. Did you see what those guys did a little while ago? AM: Of course I did, and the rest of the tag team decision saw in full the measure of destruction BMF is capable of inflicting. [Cut to footage labelled "earlier tonight", of the members of Black Mass Forever laying waste to their opponents, the Brothers Russo and then just a few minutes ago obliterating an unlucky Drew Locke and leaving him laying in a pool of his own blood. Back to the announcers, as Amy grimaces.] AM: Absolutely sickening, and it was at the behest of that madman Billy Slice. SS: Madman? He's a strategist. AM: What sort of strategy was that? All he did was point the weapon and say fire. SS: Sounds like solid strategy to me. AM: Nevertheless, I'm sure the teams in action tonight will be on their guard. We've also got the debut of Amar'e Khalil which a lot of people are eager to see after last week's proclamation by Andre Brown that his protege is on his way to L-PRO to inflict maximum damage. SS: The eight foot barbarian will doom us all! AM: Why do I suspect you've never seen him before? SS: DOOM US ALL! AM: [ignoring Sam flat out] And then in our main event we have the first qualifying match for the Legacy Championship Iron Survival match! With so much riding on that match, it's going to be Angus Andrews going one on one with "Hollywood" Scott Masters tonight. One of these men will get the opportunity to become the very first L-PRO Heavyweight Champion and you can bet both of them would love nothing more than to be the first competitor named to the championship match. SS: The first guy into the match makes you the odds on favorite. Until someone else gets added. AM: Nobody breaks things down the way you can, Sam. That spot in the championship match is exactly what everyone on the roster is gunning for currently, for the chance to become the first ever champion here in LEGACY Pro. We'll see which man can break through later tonight, but first up we have the debut of a man who embodies exactly what L-PRO is about. He's a second generation star, the son of former UWF superstar Caliban, and he's looking to forge his own path in the business. Eddie Kirkpatrick- SS: Wait a minute, he's Caliban's STEP-son. You're burying the lead here, he's the bioligical kid of an even bigger star, Edmond Winston IV. AM: You keep on saying that, but as Eddie himself has said several times now, he's had almost no contact with him, and he considers Caliban to be his father. The point is, he's got many skills inherent in being a professional wrestler, and his debut which is up next is being anticipated by many people. SS: He can deny it all he wants, but the blood of a former world champion is in those veins. AM: So let's send it to Bill Chapman to get tonight's action underway. [Cut to the middle of the squared circle where the ring announcer for LEGACY Pro, Bill Chapman, stands. Bill's in his thirties, a tall man of nearly six feet tall, dark hair and eyes. Grinning for the camera, he raises the microphone.] __ ____ ____ ____ L / / / __ \/ __ \/ __ \ P / / _____/ /_/ / /_/ / / / /-------------------------- R / /__/____/ ____/ _, _/ /_/ / LEGACY PRO BREAKOUT O /_____/ /_/ /_/ |_|\____/---------------------------- SINGLES MATCH: Eddie Kirkpatrick versus Stan "The Man" Fox ----------------------------------------------------------- BC: The following contest is set for one fall, with a fifteen minute time limit! Introducing first... [Over the PA system comes the rhythmic beat of "Stroke Me" by Mickey Avalon, the sleazy overtones turning the arena into a virtual strip club as the buxom beauty known as Sugar struts through the entrance first, the redhead dressed in precious little more than a pair of purple metallic hotpants, matching push-up bra and a pair of black boots. Grabbing the attention of the crowd, she drops to her knees as Stan Fox enters the building next.] BC: From San Antonio, Texas, accompanied to the ring by Sugar, and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-five pounds... STAAANN "THE MAAAAAAAAAAN" FOOOOOOOOOOOOOX! [Fox, wearing a black and white robe tied at the waist, leads the way down the aisle to the ring with his valet following behind, gyrating along to the grinding music playing. After slipping up onto the apron to hold the ropes open for Fox, the redhead slowly undid his robe for him and slipped it off of him, then used the ring ropes to hold herself upside down on them, then flipped back down to the floor. As Fox stood on the second turnbuckle facing the entrance, flexing, the boos began to die down.] AM: That girl gives redheads a bad name. SS: Or is it that she's reminding you of your lost youth? AM: Burn in hell, Sam. BC: And his opponent! [The opening strumming chords to "Bright Lights" by Gary Clark Jr. plays over the PA system. When the drums hit, Eddie Kirkpatrick slowly makes his way from the back to the ring, a look of quiet confidence on his face. The taunts of his opponent don't seem to be fazing him any.] BC: From Toledo, Ohio, weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds... EDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE KIIIIIIIRRRRRRRKPATRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK! [The well muscled Toledo native is dressed in white baggy shorts trimmed with black flames, black boots with white kickpads, black elbow pads, and taped fists. His focus is absolute as he climbs the steps and enters the ring, as Fox finally climbs down off of his perch and stretches on the far ropes. Outside the ring, Sugar paces a little bit, lost in her own world save for the occasional cheer for Stan.] AM: I feel like I need a shower just watching him. SS: Kirkpatrick? AM: No! The walking advertisement for Viagra. [Standing across the ring from his opponent, Stan flicks the beads of sweat off of his forehead at Eddie, then struts forward to lock up with him. Eddie's not too interested in giving up control though, catching Fox with a standing wristlock out of the tie-up before moving around to cinch in a headlock. As the older wrestler fights out of it Kirkpatrick maintains control with a bit of chain wrestling, which wasn't clearly what Fox had expected. The longer he kept him tightly controlled the more frustrated Fox gets, burying an elbow to the stomach to break free and catches him with an uppercut to rattle the rookie just a little bit. A quick scoop slam sets him down, but once there Stan has trouble keeping him on his back after missing a second rope elbowdrop and instead finding himself back in the grip of a chinlock, lifted right to his feet and then gets shot into the ropes for a nasty looking elbow to the face. On the floor. Sugar begins to worry about her man and shouts out warnings to Kirkpatrick, who ignores the valet and instead suplexes Fox out of his boots with a head and arm variant, rolling over for the pin attempt.] AM: Well I guess it comes as little surprise that the offspring of former wrestlers would be as technically skilled as Eddie Kirkpatrick seems to be, but he's giving Stan Fox all he can handle here. SS: I'm disappointed, I figured he'd be out there tearing him apart with bone claws or something like Wolverine. AM: Since when do you dislike Stan Fox? SS: I don't at all. Not as long as he keeps bringing out that hot dish with him. [An escape for Fox, who struggles back to his feet only to be caught with another elbow to the face, and after another brief tie-up gets snapped right back down to the mat with a hangman's neckbreaker that lays him out completely. Another cover from Eddie, hooking the leg but is unable to keep Fox down longer than two. When the action returns to an upright position again, Fox stops short of a backdrop attempt and knees Eddie in the head, flips him to the mat and hits a standing dropkick into the back of the head. Now it's time to boast, flexing for the crowd and for the benefit of the trashy redhead at ringside, Sugar shaking wildly with delight now and celebrating by using the nearest ringpost like a stripper pole. Pulling Kirkpatrick back up by the head again he shoots him into the ropes, but is almost bowled over by a running elbow into the face that takes him to the corner, at which point Kirkpatrick begins to unleash a barrage of shoulders to the stomach. Stan is vocal with his pain and pulls the referee into Eddie's way to force a break, and with a distraction is able to kick him low in the groin and retakes the advantage with a quick snapping DDT into the middle turnbuckle. Stan grins as he goes for a cover right away, even hooking his feet on the ropes for leverage.] AM: One! Two! NO, Kirkpatrick with the emphatic kickout! SS: I'd say he's not human, but that's kind of gilding the lilly isn't it? [Unwilling to stay down, Kirkpatrick starts to roll back to his feet but Fox jams him into the corner with a kneelift, but a second one backfires as Eddie blocks it and sweeps his legs out from under him, catapults him into the corner sternum first and with a huge lariat to the back of the head knocks Fox loopy and flat into the turnbuckles again. Out on his feet now, Stan staggers forward and finds himself flung into the far ropes, directly into the path of his opponent who shoots him up into the air and effortlessly catches him on the way down with an earthshaking pop-up chokeslam! The crowd roars at the effort, as Eddie drops to make the cover now, hooking the leg of the prone Fox. 1 -- 2 -- 3!] AM: Incredible! Eddie Kirkpatrick with the big win here in his debut! And fittingly enough, according to my notes here he calls that pop-up chokeslam the Rise to Power to a Descent Into Hell! SS: What, did he take a shot of Bane syrum before he came out here? That was frightening! ["Bright Lights" hits the PA system to a loud pop, the crowd cheering for the newcomer with the impressive pedigree behind him. Eddie rolls to a sitting position but swiftly back to his feet as the ref raises his arm.] BC: Here is your winner... EDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE KIRKPAAAAAAAAAAAATRIIIIIIIIIICK! [It would seem that Sugar agrees with Sam's assessment, as she slides into the ring beside her still barely conscious man and cradles his head, while keeping her eyes on Kirkpatrick, the worry clearly visible. The crowd is taking to Eddie Kirkpatrick already, and as he goes to leave they're already reaching for him in the aisleway.] AM: That's what I'd call a true wild card in the heavyweight division, I pity anyone who might have to face him in the title tournament. He's young and inexperienced, but sometimes raw talent is enough to overcome that. SS: Even I have to give it up to him, he overmatched Stan Fox completely here tonight. EW4 taught him well, even if it was from afar. AM: For the last time, he had nothing to do with Eddie Kirkpatrick's development. And unless you want to have a personal discussion with Eddie about it, I suggest you stop bringing that up. SS: I'm just giving credit where credit is due. AM: You know what, forget what I said. Keep bringing it up. I dare you. [We go to backstage where Stan Thomas stands between The Taylor Twins. They are already dressed in their wrestling attire. Jimmy wears a pair of brick red wrestling boots and a white T-shirt with "JIMMY" in big black lettering. Jack wears a black wrestling singlet, matching kneepads and boots.] ST: I'm here with the Taylor Twins, who are set to wrestle The Heat later tonight. Gentlemen, this is the first round of the tournament for the World tag team titles. What do you know about The Heat, Jack? [Jack just takes a deep breath.] Jack: Ask him first. [Stan shrugs and turns to Jimmy, who is never at a loss for words.] Jimmy: I'll be honest with you, Stan, I don't know much about this team, Jack doesn't know much about this team, but the best in the business are coming to L-PRO, so we're gonna treat them like they are the best in the business. Now, Jack and I, we've been around the globe, spent a lot of time in Japan, won ourselves some titles, faced the very best they had to offer, and learned so much since the last time we were wrestling here in the States. It's been a while since we've been back in our home country, wrestling in front of great fans like the ones that are here tonight in the L-PRO Arena. Jack and I are looking forward to being out there in front of all the fans who are here to welcome us back! [Stan nods, then turns back to Jack.] ST: All right, Jack, anything to add? [Jack shakes his head.] Jack: I'm good. [Stan seems surprised.] ST: That's all? This is a pretty big opportunity for the two of you. Sure you don't have anything else to say about tonight's match? [Jimmy taps Stan on the shoulder, drawing his attention.] Jimmy: What else needs to be said about tonight's match but that we are going to be ready for whatever The Heat is going to bring tonight. Now, I look at these two, I see their names, and we've got one guy name Qaim Abd al-Najem Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, and we've got another guy named Francisco Gabriel Maximillien Isadore Osorio Magnon, Magnon, bo- Bagnon, banana-fana fo-Fagnon, fee-fi-mo-Agnon, Magnon! I do the Name Game for everyone of those names, but we'd be here all night! We've got a match to wrestle, we've got great fans to meet and greet, and we've got tag team titles in our sights, so we be best be on our way, Stan! [He walks off camera. Stan looks at Jack.] Jack: He's right. [Jack walks off camera as well. Fade out.] [A simple interview area, no one on screen... until a lanky, underweight man in a red suit jacket, yellow tie, blue shirt and black slacks stomps in. This is none other than Arvelle Lafayette - manager of the HEAT.] Arvelle: Just what is this bullpucky? There's a big ole tournament for gold and the hottest thing in tag team wrestling since sliced tomatoes is being forced to sully their hands with two inbred siblings? What sort of operation are you running here? The HEAT is the one, and the only, thing around that is going to put butts in those seats and eyes on the T.V.! And we're on the same card as that bacon scarfing duo we ran out of Phoenix, Max and Sal?! Where is the justice? Where is the respect? Y'all are fortunate that the HEAT are consummate professionals and stunning performers - no one else could handle such disrespect! [Throwing up his hands, Arvelle begins to pace back and forth as his team, the HEAT, walk in behind him. One is an Turkish man dressed in a fine cafe colored suit with pink shirt and light brown tie... with huge sunglasses. The other Latino and is dressed in jeans, a white shirt with silver piping that is undone to his mid-stomach, and a cowboy hat.] Arvelle: This ain't right, no sir, no how! You've got two cousin lovers across the squared circle from the impeccable, debonair, fashion forward Qaim Abd al-Najem - that alone is a crime against fashion, let alone humanity! How do you expect a beautiful man like Najem to put up with such inhumane working conditions? This smacks of a biased agenda. Think of the repercussions: uggos may think they can touch the pretty people, like me, Najem and Paco! What sort of message is that to send to the children? PACO [the Latino]: A bad one? A smelly one? Najem p[the Turk]: I, for one, look forward to this match. You see, Najem will beat some sense of style into these Taylor what have you's. The Najem, he will give them a make over, re-arrange their faces and create art where there was once hideousness. Arvelle: You see that? Even in the face of adversity and disrespect, the HEAT still gives to the community. The HEAT is here to excite and delight, but first we gotta clean up that mess you call opponents, L-PRO. You best count your lucky stars that the ultra talented, supremely sexy, astonishingly amazing and sinfully skilled likes of the HEAT has come up to this cold, fashion backwards land you all call Canada. We're raising the profile, bringing the star power and gonna classy up the joint - you'd better believe it! [Arvelle snaps his fingers and the trio stomp off.] AM: There's a tale of two very different teams here, each looking to make names for themselves here in L-PRO and more specifically in the tag title tournament. Last week we saw a few teams that could easily win this whole thing, and that's just continuing tonight. Black Mass Forever just brutalized their opponents on First Strike tonight, then came back out here again and made another statement by leaving Drew Locke in a pool of his own blood. To say they're taking things seriously is an understatement too. Now the HEAT will toss their own hat into the ring against the Taylor Twins. SS: That one's a foregone conclusion though. If you bet against the HEAT you're going to get burned. AM: Nineteen years in the business and that's what you come up with? SS: Tell me I'm wrong, red. Tell me I'm wrong. AM: Let's take it back to the ring. __ ____ ____ ____ L / / / __ \/ __ \/ __ \ P / / _____/ /_/ / /_/ / / / /-------------------------- R / /__/____/ ____/ _, _/ /_/ / LEGACY PRO BREAKOUT O /_____/ /_/ /_/ |_|\____/---------------------------- TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT[ROUND ONE]: The HEAT versus The Taylor Twins ----------------------------------------------------------- BC: The following contest is set for one fall, and is a first round match in the Legacy Tag Team Championship Tournament! Introducing first... From Atlanta, Georgia, at a total combined weight of five hundred pounds, the team of Jimmy and Jack... THE TAYYYYYYYYLOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRR TWIIIIINNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! [The opening drum beats of "Walk This Way" by Run DMC kick in over the PA system, then followed by the first guitar chords. As the guitar chords kick in, out from the back bursts the smaller member of The Taylor Twins, Jimmy Taylor. Jimmy wears a white T-shirt with "JIMMY" printed on it in big black lettering, brick red tights and white wrestling boots. He pumps his fists in time to the music. And as Jimmy steps down the wrestling ramp, his fraternaly twin brother Jack comes out from the entranceway. Jack wears a black wrestling singlet, matching kneepads and wrestling boots. He has a sheepish smile on his face.] SS: What gives? Those two aren't twins. They don't look anything alike. AM: For the last time, they're FRATERNAL twins, Sam. SS: Is that a fancy word for fake? [Jimmy struts down the aisle, gladly reaching out to slap hands with fans. Jack follows him, just smiling at the fans. As the two reach the ring, Jimmy climbs up the steps, then grabs the top rope and vaults over it, landing his feet on the second turnbuckle, then raising his arms to the crowd, once more pumping his fists to the music. Jack, on the other hand, slowly walks up the steps, ducks between the ropes, then steps back into the corner, taking a deep breath as he waits for the match to begin.] BC: And their opponents! [As the Twins watch from the ring, "Fire" by Ferry Cortsen and Simon LeBon comes over the PA system, and the lights begin to swirl in the arena.] BC: From Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Estados Unidos Mexicanos and weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds, "El Machismo Magnifico Y Guapo" Paco Magnon! And his partner, from Ankara, Turkey, but making his summer residence in London, England, Qaim Abd al-Najem! Accompanied to the ring by Arvelle "MAGIC" LaFayette, the team of... THE HEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT! [You can almost feel Bill Chapman rolling his eyes after that mouthful, and one by one the team known as the HEAT makes their way out from the locker rooms. Arvelle leads the way, happily blowing his air horn and promoting his team, who walk behind him dripping with conceit. Both are dressed in neon peach trunks and white boots, and Paco is also wearing chaps and several gold chains around his neck while Qaim has on his traditional bisht in loud colors. The crowd boos them loudly, either because they're familiar with the duo already or possibly just because they give off that sort of vibe to begin with. They climb into the ring, with LaFayette standing between them and jawing at the Taylor Twins even before the bell rings.] AM: So here we go with the first of four opening round matches in the tournament, and you have to think at least for now it's pretty wide open. Any of these teams could end up the first tag team champions here in L- PRO. SS: Black Mass Forever would like you to rethink that statement, Marshall. AM: They might be a destructive force in the division, but it's a long road to the titles, Sam. [Once Arvelle leaves the ring and the referee calls for the match to begin, Jimmy starts off against al-Najem, trading strikes before an armdrag takes the member of HEAT to the mat right away. Opting to keep him down with a series of quick hits, Taylor drops a knee first and then catches him with a spinning leg lariat into the first pin attempt of the match. Escaping at two, al-Najem bails to the outside as he tags out to Paco, but he doesn't fare much better as Jimmy hits a standing dropkick to send him through the ropes to the floor. Angered at being shown up, the HEAT regroups on the outside and it's already looking like LaFayette is about to blow a gasket, shouting instructions at his team and trying to build their confidence back up. In the ring, Jimmy gets a cheer from the crowd and bounces across the ring, preparing to dive over the ropes... and fakes out his opponents, causing them to scatter as he safely stops himself in time.] SS: What a little showboat. He needs to take this serious and stop screwing around! AM: Remind me again, who are the ones on the outside after getting their butts kicked? [As Paco slides back into the ring Jimmy is on him right away, but the devious one manages to trip him to the mat and ties him up with a vicious series of punches, rolls to his feet and delivers a knee right to the side of the head. Having slowed down Taylor, he keeps the pressure on by dragging him up and nailing him in the face with a forearm smash. A slam back to the mat keeps him reeling, with a tag out to al-Najem who sails back in with a slingshot rolling senton across Jimmy's sternum for a two count. Obviously trying to cut the ring off with quick tags, Jimmy fights back with a quick flurry of palm strikes, reverses an irish whip and brings al-Najem down with a headscissors takedown. Rolling to the corner for a tag to his brother now, the biggest man in the match, Jack Taylor comes in and right away takes al-Najem down with a clothesline. Not letting him slide out to regroup again, Jack set up and hits a belly to belly suplex for another near fall, then lifts him straight up over his head with a press slam attempt. Escaping after a face rake and landing on his feet though, al-Najem scurries through his legs and lunges for the corner to tag out to Paco Magnon again.] AM: Both teams have plenty of experience between them and it's showing here early, in comes Paco now but Jack Taylor is ready for him now- a shot to the head and now into the neutral corner. SS: Keep an eye on those twins, you never know when they're going to try and pull a fast one by trading places. AM: Considering Jack is a good six inches taller than Jimmy, I highly doubt that. [A tag to his brother after another slam on Paco, Jack drags him up perfectly in time for a slingshot clothesline from Jimmy. Another two count before Paco sits up and tries to grab the ropes, but gets cut off with a facelock from Jimmy and a whip into the ropes. A Thesz press brings him crashing back to the mat again, but hooking the legs results in a near flash pin by Paco instead. Jimmy pops right back up though and swings with a lunging elbow to flatten his opponent once more, before he can try another cover al-Najem sneaks in and chop blocks Jimmy's knee out from under him. He crumples as the referee warns him and directs al-Najem back to the corner, but Paco in the meantime takes over with some stomps and knees right into the sore joint now. Hooking a leglock to drag Jimmy over to the corner, Paco tags al-Najem in once more and they switch off stomping the living hell out of Taylor much to the fans' disgust. One person who does enjoy it though is the HEAT's manager, Arvelle LaFayette who blows his air horn to irritate the crowd even more, all the while talking trash about the Taylor Twins to anyone who'll listen.] AM: Okay that's getting old pretty quickly, LaFayette knows just how to work the last nerve of not only the audience here but poor Jack over there on the other side of the ring. SS: Then he should probably do something about that. [And try he does, as Jack attempts to climb back into the ring only for the official to keep him at bay, letting The Heat take even more liberties against his brother. Switching off with and without tags behind the referee's back, when the official finally turns around it's al-Najem looking for the pin attempt. Jimmy manages to kick out at two and three quarters though, and when they try to keep him cut off from his partner Jimmy is able to catch al-Najem by surprise with an enzuigiri to the back of the skull. Amazingly he doesn't let go of Jimmy's head, but a couple of sharp legs across the bridge of the nose finally allows Taylor to roll and lunge for his brother and the tag into the ring that makes the crowd explode! Jack is in the ring first but Paco leans far over the ropes and strains for his own tag, entering the ring only to be met with a running clothesline! Afterwards he's hoisted into the air for an overhead press slam, and Paco is slammed to the mat with great ease. As Lafayette's demeanor at ringside has changed greatly now, he screams at al-Najem to get back in and help his partner out. Jack greets him instead with a thunderous tilt-a-whirl slam over the ropes, dropping him to the mat.] AM: These two teams are both looking to score the win, but I think the Heat are actively making the Twins mad now. I have to say, I don't think that's a smart move. SS: What do you suggest they do instead, play by the rules or something? AM: Well, ideally. SS: People like you are what give this sport a bad name. [The action in the ring leads to Jimmy climbing the ropes and sailing off into a missile dropkick that catches al-Najem and knocks him right back through the ropes to the outside apron. The referee tries again to regain control of things and immediately ushers the illegal Taylor from the ring as Jack grabs Paco and tries to pick him back up. From the outside though al-Najem jams a thumb into Jack's eye and shoves him forward into the corner. With the official still tied up with Jimmy, it's Paco who takes Taylor's head and snaps it off of the top rope as he jumps to the floor. A superkick catches the reeling Jack square on the chin, laying him out flat now as al-Najem climbs to the top rope, and sails off with a mighty legdrop from the top rope and then slips from the ring again, while Paco dives on top of Jack, hooking a leg for the cover. Jimmy Taylor jumps back into the ring and dives to break it up, tangling with al-Najem while the legal man slips in and blasts an upright but staggering Jack with a superkick to the back of the head this time, dropping Jack with the Puta Maker! Hooking the leg for the pin, the referee's attention is drawn back now after al-Najem tackles Jimmy and sends them both through the ropes out to the floor to prevent the break. 1 -- 2 -- 3! The arena erupts into boos, as an ecstatic LaFayette jumps for joy at ringside, blasting his air horn in victory.] BC: Here are your winners, advancing to the semi-finals of the tag team title tournament... THEEEEEEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT! SS: Wow! What a hell of a match! Proving that great strategy wins every time! AM: Are you kidding me? The HEAT cheated their asses off all match long! SS: Don't be sore, red. Just pay homage to the next tag team champs! AM: You're really going to flip-flop with every match in this thing aren't you? SS: How long have you known me? [al-Najem rolls back into the ring as his partner gets up, but they both bail from the ring as an irritated Jimmy Taylor streaks back in as well, looking to take a swing at them. The winners regroup at ringside, and Arvelle makes no bones about it, his team is going to win the whole thing. The crowd respectfully disagrees with him though, tossing paper cups at the trio as they head back up to the back. In the ring, disappointment is clear on the faces of the Taylor Twins as they get back to their feet, receiving applause from the crowd for their efforts and soon they head to the locker rooms.] AM: In the record books it might say it was a win for the HEAT, but the Taylors more than proved they belong here in L-PRO, and are certainly still top contenders as well. SS: Sounds like sour grapes to me. AM: Call it whatever you want, they're a big part of the tag team scene here and proved that tonight. [The fans start to boo as the curtains part and Andre Browne emerges in a pale with a bright pink tie and caramel coloured shoes and matching belt. The arrogant advocate swaggers to ringside, smirking at the fans in attendance and gesturing to them that their boos mean nothing to him. He takes the ring, microphone in hand to address the crowd.] AB: Ladies and gentlemen, my name remains Andre Browne. For those of you who are just tuning in to L-PRO wrestling for the first time and for those of you who simply lack the intellectual capacity to retain information for more than two minutes at a time, I am the advisor, agent and advocate for the next great name in professional wrestling, Amar'e Khalil. [The crowd begins to boo Khalil's name vitriolically.] AB: Quite the Pavlovian response, people of Toronto. And I suppose it is fitting that you boo the next great name in professional wrestling because you are here at this UWF nostalgia tour, cheering who are barely hanging on in this business. Well, tonight, you are given front row seats to the future of this sport. Tonight you witness a fight. My prospect, Amar'e Khalil, is coming through those curtains to meet his competition, beat his competition and then repeat those actions next show. People of Toronto, if you have brought your children to the show tonight, I urge you to take them to the concession stand for this next match. Buy them some nice L-PRO merchandise. Take them to the bathroom or purchase some hotdogs, hamburgers or whatever that unholy mess you call poutine is. But please, people of do not let your children witness this upcoming fight. Do not let them witness the destruction, the EXECUTION of another human being. If you do, do not try to hold L-PRO responsible when these children have nightmares tonight or when they grow up with deep feelings of inadequacy. [Browne pauses as he waits for the crowd to follow his instructions.] AB: Ladies and gentlemen of Toronto, you have been warned. The slaughter begins ... NOW! __ ____ ____ ____ L / / / __ \/ __ \/ __ \ P / / _____/ /_/ / /_/ / / / /-------------------------- R / /__/____/ ____/ _, _/ /_/ / LEGACY PRO BREAKOUT O /_____/ /_/ /_/ |_|\____/---------------------------- SINGLES MATCH: Amar'e Khalil versus El Ojo del Oro ----------------------------------------------------------- [The guitar strains of D-12’s "Fight Music" echo over the PA system. The curtains part and Amar’e Khalil strides into view. He wears a t-shirt over his ring gear and a watch cap on his head, low on his brow. He flexes his massive triceps to his ear and shadow boxes, bouncing from one foot to the other before he makes the long, deliberate walk to the ring. At ringside he squat jumps onto the ring apron in a single fluid move before catching the ring rope and stepping through. He moves to his corner, never acknowledging the fans and generally ignoring the referee as he removes his entrance gear and then puts his back to the corner, glaring at the opposite corner with super intensity.] SS: I have seen the destroyer, and he is ready. BC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen minute time limit! Introducing first, already in the ring at this time from Lake Wales, Florida, weighing in at two hundred and ninety-eight pounds... AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAR'E KHAAAAAAALIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! [The opening to "Bamboleo" by the Gipsy Kings starts to play over the PA.] BC: And his opponent... about to make his way down the aisle... from Parts Unknown... weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-eight pounds... ELLLLLLLLL OJOOOOOOOOO DELLLLLLLLL OOOOOORRRRRRROOOOOOOOO! [The crowd cheers as the music builds. The masked El Ojo del Oro thrusts his fists high in the air and leaps. He sprints down the aisle, trying to slap the hands of eager fans. As he approaches the ring, once more he raises his gloved hands up in the air and does a twirl as he jogs to catch all sides of the arena. Inside the ring, Khalil glares at the overly exuberant masked wrestler.] SS: This guy's the last one to know he's already dead. AM: You never know, wrestling history is littered with all kinds of stunning upsets. SS: This ring's about to be littered with all kinds of El Ojo del Oro. [The moment El Ojo del Oro sets foot in the ring, the predatory Khalil is on top of him, hammering the young masked wrestler with several elbows to the head and chest before the bell can even ring. As the newcomer begins to grin, showing his pleasure at just how brutally he was treating his first oppponent, a dazed del Oro tries to swing back and only encourages a further beating. Amar'e drives his knee into the other man's stomach so hard it knocks him back a couple of feet easily. Bending over, a huge sledgehammer-like shot across the back makes him crumble to the mat, but Khalil still isn't done by a long shot, picking him right back up and tossing him into the near corner. Another bevy of knees to the stomach leads to a biel toss from the corner into the middle of the ring, and Amar'e again takes time to celebrate a little bit, as on the outside of the ring Browne begins to espouse the virtues of his managerial charge once again, looking right into the nearest camera to boast about Khalil's abilities.] AM: He sure is happy right now. SS: His monster's been unleashed, why wouldn't he be? Khalil is a force of nature here. [Repeatedly Khalil focuses back on del Oro, allowing him to stagger back to his feet gamely before brutalizing his opponent with another hammering blow or two, pounding away and knocking him from corner to corner. Only after it became quite apparent there was nothing keeping Amar'e from victory except Amar'e himself, an overhead belly to belly suplex puts the masked man on the mat in a heap. Still though, he tries to get back to his feet, as a grinning Khalil stands before him and reaches down to grab him by the head. Purely running on instincts now, El Ojo del Oro attempts to take sudden control of the match with an armdrag takedown... but can't so much as budge his opponent. The crowd groans in sympathy, even more as Khalil damn near beheads him with a short-arm clothesline, immediately yanks the masked man up and hoists him across his shoulders and smirks into the camera straight ahead. With a big toss he propels del Oro into the air and snaps him down with a masssive cutter, the C5 Hurricane! Hooking a leg even though by now it's quite academic... 1 -- 2 -- 3!] SS: Now that was pure destruction! Someone wake up the kid and tell him what happened? AM: I have to admit, that was very impressive! Amar'e Khalil may in fact be one of the most dominating forces in the squared circle that we have here in L-PRO. BC: Here is your winner... AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR'E KHAAAAAAAAAALIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLL! [Satisfied with the victory, Khalil exits the ring and starts to walk up the aisle with Browne walking alongside him, a know-it-all look across his face as if to say "i told you so" to the crowd. The audience has a mixed response, half in awe of the man and half booing him now.] AM: The more we see out of the roster, I have to say the tougher it'll be to really decide who's going to be the first ever L-PRO Heavyweight Champion. It could go any number of ways, and I can safely say that Amar'e Khalil is very much in the mix. SS: Just accept him as the force of nature he is, red. [Suddenly the lights dim and a spotlight falls on the top of the entrance ramp and the crowd erupts in LOUD BOOS as Midnight Gypsie's hard rocking cover of "Girl From Ipanema" plays over the PA.] AM: Oh sweet merciful God above, not them. [We get a shot of Amy rubbing her forehead as if a major headache is coming on.] SS: Whats the matter? AM: You KNOW what the matter is! I don't want to hear about this L-Crow- ARRGH! [Marshall's pained cry is because out from the back walks the "Up All Night" Pablo O'Connor, dressed in black trunks with cherry colored stripe down the side and a cherry colored five pointed star on the back, black kneepads and ring boots with cherry colored trim and a shiny black metallic kneebrace on his right knee. Oh, and he has the UWF Unified Television Championship belt around his waist, the UWF Rampage Championship belt over his left shoulder and the UWF Meltdown Championship over his right shoulder. By his side is of course his wife and manager, Stephanie Delacroix, dressed in a cherry colored suit dress with a pink blouse underneath, cherry colored shoes and a black briefcase in her left hand and the Cherry Cola World Heavyweight Championship belt in her right. And towering behind them is the massive Kobus deVries in a black suit with a white shirt and cherry colored tie and sunglasses. KdV carries an object covered in cherry colored fabric in his right arm.] SS: Look at all those championship belts! AM: Two of them he has NO rights to at all. [As the crowd rains BOOS down on the trio they make their way to the ring, O'Connor and Delacroix soaking in the jeers while deVries has no emotion on his face. When they get to the ring a nod is passed towards KdV who climbs onto the apron and holds the ropes open. O'Connor and Delacroix climb up the ring steps onto the ring apron and Delacroix enters the ring first followed by her husband and then by their massive bodyguard. BOOS!] SS: What do you think the big guy is carrying? AM: I loathe to imagine. [O'Connor chuckles at the volume of the crowd's displeasure and then whispers to his wife who nods then gives him a quick kiss. BOOS!] AM: UGH! So gross. SS: Kissing can be very enjoyable, Amy. Would you like me to show you? AM: Only if you feel like you've lived a full life and have peace with dying right here and now. SS: On second thought.. [Delacroix whispers something to KdV who nods his head and then walks over to the ropes and in a very gruff and scary voice demands a microphone, which is quickly handed to him. The South African hands the mic to Delacroix, who hands him some folded bills, and then she looks out at the crowd with a big smile. BOOS!] AM: Why can't this happen after the show goes off the air? SS: Because people at home want to see this? AM: I seriously dou- SD: ARE YOU READY FOR HISTORY?! [MASSIVE BOOS at Delacroix's query. She is unfazed.] SD: We told you last time that we would be adding another jewel to the Legacy Crown and now, ladies and gentlemen, we are going to make good on our word! [Small Curiosity POP!] SD: So, Toronto, let me set the stage for you. It is January 27th, 2012. The place is Arena Aficion in Mexico. The Masked Maniac defeated Monkey Martinez in an ANYTHING GOES RULES MATCH to become the very first International Fighting Championship! [ASLL POP!] AM: This can't be happening. A Masked Maniac reference? In LEGACY Pro?!! SS: Oh man, I am a BIG fan of his Masked Bro condoms. AM: SAM! S: What?! You've never seen those commercials? AM: Please kill me now. [Delacroix nods her head.] SD: This championship had special rules to them when it started off. No DQ's! Falls Count Anywhere! Anyone who had a referee with them could challenge for the championship. Could be fought for anywhere at anytime... 24/7! [POP!] SD: Masked Maniac was under attack by many challengers and his first title reign came to an end on March 30th, 2012 when Omar Oscavedo Martinez defeated him backstage at Arena Libertad to become the SECOND Champion! [Some fans are actually really into this story in the crowd, believe it or not.] SD: Omar, who was NOT a sissy.. [POP] SD: He held onto the championship until Cinco de Mayo, 2012 at Arena Puebla... [She gives a lustful look at her husband.] SD: The same night SOMEONE defeated El Hijo de Magnifico for the All Star Lucha Libre Heavyweight Championship... [O'Connor beams with pride while the fans BOO. Delacroix continues with a smile.] SD: But also on that night, Masked Maniac won the championship back! [MASKED MANIAC POP!] AM: Don't cheer for her story! SS: Amy, you are going to have to calm down. AM: Don't you DARE tell me to calm down! This ridiculous nonsense about this.. This L-Crown thing needs to go away! [Of course to Amy's dismay it continues.] SD: Maniac's second reign did not last long though. Later that month, On May 25th, 2012, at Arena Neza, when the Platinum Club's heroic leader, RANDALL VERMEER, won the championship dramatically backstage! [BIG BOOS!] SD: But then.. Later that same night.. As heroic as Vermeer's win was it was upstaged by an even MORE heroic feat! Because La Cucaracha, a masked MINI, who may or may not have gotten some help from Erich Seiger, became the first mini to win the INTERNATIONAL FIGHTING CHAMPIONSHIP! [POP] SS: Is... Is this true, Amy? [Amy is near tears in frustration.] AM: Yes. It is all true. SS: Woah! AM: Oh God. SD: And ever since May 25th, 2012 this little masked man has been chased after on every street in Mexico and elsewhere in the world as competitors large and small hunt him to wrest the championship from his IRON GRIP. [Delacroix shakes her head with faux awe.] SD: But NONE, so far, have been able to! Ladies and gentlemen.. Please STAND UP and welcome... THE INTERNATIONAL FIGHTING CHAMPION... LA CUCARACHA! [Mariachi music plays over the PA to the tune of "La Cucaracha" and out from the back runs out a VERY excited masked mini luchador, the cockroach themed La Cucaracha! He jumps up and down pumping his arms excitedly while the International Fighting Championship belt, a very battered looking plastic toy belt with Masked Maniac's writing on it, bounces up and down around his small waist. Of course... FANS MARK OUT LIKE CRAZY!] SS: Oh My God! There is a giant roach coming towards the ring! OH MY GOD! AM: I'm not a religious woman, but why hast thou forsaken me? [The masked roach themed mini sprints down to the ring, giving out high fives as he does so, then slides under the bottom ropes and into the ring and JUMPS UP AND DOWN REPEATEDLY LIKE A MADMAN and fans.. GO NUTS FOR IT!] SS: Where's the Raid? SOMEONE GET THE RAID! [Delacroix and O'Connor applaud the mini who poses for the crowd while KdV remains stoic. Stephanie motions towards the mini.] SD: LET'S HEAR IT FOR LA CUCARACHA! [HUGE POP!] SD: Now, he does not speak any English so I pass the microphone to my Honey Bunny, the LEGACY CROWN CHAMPION! [Loud BOOS as Delacroix hands the microphone to O'Connor who nods and approaches the mini who has calmed down.] POC: Hola, La Cucaracha. ¿Recuerda nuestra conversación telefónica? [La Cucaracha looks up at O'Connor and nods his head emphatically.] POC: Entonces, como ya comentamos... [O'Connor motions towards his wife who puts the Cherry Cola World Heavyweight Title belt over her shoulder and opens up the briefcase which has documents and a pen inside of it.] POC: Si usted firma este... [La Cucaracha nods his head and then Pablo nods and turns towards KdV and motions to him.] POC: Consigue esto! [With that the wall of a man whips off the cherry colored fabric on the object he's carrying to reveal a KICK ASS looking championship belt with black leather strap, gold colored metal plates with skulls, barbed wire, brass knuckles and flags of countries around the world all over it. Trust the crowd, it looks pretty sweet, because why else would they be.. FREAKING OUT! HOLY MOLY WHAT A BELT POP!] SS: What are they saying in this gibberish language, Amy?! AM: I don't think you need to know Spanish to figure out they want La Cucaracha to sign those documents for that newer more attractive looking belt. [La Cucaracha is BOWLED OVER by how awesome the belt looks. He immediately tears off the ugly belt Masked Maniac crafted and tosses it into the crowd for some lucky fan to snatch up and holds out his hand for the pen. O'Connor and Delacroix nod and she kneels down and holds the briefcase open for him to grab the pen. Stephanie points to a line and the mini quickly signs the document while a crazed look and giant smile grow on Pablo's face.] AM: That poor little man. SS: What do you mean? Isn't he getting a title belt?! AM: Sam, think this through. [Signature done, Delacroix stands up and nods at KdV who hands the awesome looking belt to the mini who snatches it and clutches it to his chest and begins jumping up and down repeatedly like a madman, yet again. BIG POP!] SS: He looks so happy! AM: Sam. What do you see coming out to the ring? SS: Uh.. [Running out to the ring is skinny Mexican man dressed in a white and black striped referee's shirt and black slacks and shoes. He slides into the ring while O'Connor removes his title belts.] SS: What's a zebra doing out here? AM: UGH! Remember the stupid rules of the championship, Sam! [La Cucaracha is on the 2nd turnbuckle shaking his masked head around like a nut and waving the belt in the air excitedly as O'Connor nods at the referee who nods back and then motions to the timekeeper. He rings the bell, and the crowd gives off a confusion pop!] SS: Why did they ring the... Oh.. AM: Yeah. [Cucaracha hops off the turnbuckle, lost in his celebration at his shiny new belt to replace the ugly one people have hunted him for three years and spins around right into a BOOT RIGHT TO HIS MASKED FACE!] [HUGE BOOS!] SS: OH! [Delacroix and deVries climb out of the ring as the stunned mini clutches at his face and rolls around the canvas. The referee moves the belt over to a corner then watches for the action. O'Connor with a hungry smile waits for the mini to get to his knees and then he springs forward and knees the masked mini with a kneebrace to the top of his head.] [BOOS] AM: This is absolutely DISGUSTING! SS: Amy, the International Fighting Championship is on the line right now! AM: ARRRGHHH! [O'Connor laughs while pointing down at the decieved mini while Delacroix laughs and applauds on the outside. Pablo grabs a hold of the small man by the seat of his tights and yanks him up with ease and whips the masked man to the ropes. The only winner of a 200 man battle royal charges with a running knee... Only for La Cucaracha to sidestep and do a forward tumble to his feet! POP! Pablo spins around right into a DROPKICK TO HIS LEFT KNEE! GIANT POP!] AM: What?! OH LET THIS BE HAPPENING! YES! [O'Connor angrily grabs his knee and gives a furious look at KdV who slides into the ring with surprising quickness for a man of his size and snatches up the small mini from behind, catching the masked man by surprise! FURIOUS BOOS!] AM: NO! ARRRGHH! SS: Your veins are going to burst if you don't calm- AM: Shut it! [La Cucaracha flails away wildly but it is to no avail against a man the size and strength of KdV. O'Connor shakes his head and then rushes over, drops to a knee and PUNCHES THE MINI RIGHT IN THE GROIN! The crowd showers the ring with boos now, for the purely unnecesary tactic. KdV lets the mini fall to the canvas and he rolls around holding his groin in obvious pain. O'Connor calms himself down as he walks to a corner and then he spins around and watches the struggling masked mini with an excited look on his face.] AM: Can we cut to an interview backstage? .. DAMNIT! Why not?! SS: Oh boy. [La Cucaracha struggles to his feet, doubled over holding his groin, completely helpless and that's when O'Connor bursts out of the corner and... *CRACK* NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!] SS: Cherry Cola Smash! AM: ARRRRRRRGHHH! [O'Connor's running kneebrace to the head lands brutally on target and the luchador falls to the canvas like dead weight and the Up All Night scrambles for the cover and the ref makes the count... 1 -- 2 -- 3! *DING DING DING* DAMN YOU BOOS!] SS: HE DID IT! History HAS been made! He ended a historic three year reign by this little, little warrior. AM: Kill me. [Delacroix has the microphone and scrambles into the ring and with glee she makes the announcement.] SD: The winner and NEWWWWWWWWWW.. INTERNATIONAL FIGHTING CHAMPION... My Honey Bunny... PABLOOOOOOOOO O'CONNORRRRRRRRRRR! [The referee hands O'Connor the belt and his eyes light up as he holds the belt to his chest. The fans are CRAZY MAD BOOING at all of this. Delacroix holds a hand up to speak.] SS: Victory speech! AM: No! Cut the mic! SD: Per the stipulations in the contract signed before the match, the previous rules of the International Fighting Championship are now null and void and the championship is now part of the LEGACY... CROWN! [Pablo drops to one knee with the International Fighting Championship now wrapped around his wasit and KdV and Delacroix drape the other four belts over his shoulders and into his hands as he holds his arms outstretched while the hard rocking cover of "Girl From Ipanema" plays.] SS: Wow! The L-Crown now has FIVE championships! It is only our second show and LOOK at the history we just witnessed, Amy! [SLAP!] SS: EEOWWW! What was that for?! AM: Throw it to something else. I DON'T CARE WHAT, I JUST CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS PERVERSION OF OUR SPORT! CUT AWAY NOW! [Now that time has passed and cooler heads have prevailed, we rejoin a certain set of redheads that are seeking to have a women's division instated in LEGACY Pro. For once, their passionate tempers are in sync with one another.] TSJ: LEGACY Pro is all about continuing the history and legacy of the UWF, right? And am I wrong that the MBC has some influence here? Name me any organization that had a longer track record of quality women's wrestling than those two places. SS: And what other options do we have? They're super small or just starting up. L-PRO has an opportunity to set the stage for something spectacular. [Their target audience, Tara "Sunburst" Marshall listens intently but she throws her hands up, not to surrender to their demands but to get them to pause.] TSM: Listen ladies. I've heard every single one of your points and I've used them myself but unfortunately, I've got to bring you two back to earth. [Instant deflation for the two.] TSM: Tom and I want a women's division but we're not the only deciding factors. TSJ: Aren't you the owners? SS: And persons in charge? TSM: Both true, however, LEGACY Pro has investors and a business plan that we are trying to adhere to. We can't launch into every item on our "To-Do list". If we did, we'd have a "Skyweight Trios Tag Title" division. SS: Seriously? TSM: Luis Garavello came into some money and... ignore that. [Tara shakes her head and brings the redheads' attention back to the matter at hand.] TSM: Once LEGACY Pro has established the singles and tag division, we can expand. But right now, Laura Davis, arguably our feature attraction is exclusively in Japan and without our feature attraction, it's a nail in the coffin until we have a stronger foundation. TSJ: Feature attraction? Come on! SS: I see the point. TSM: Tesla, if we could run things on passion and bullheadness alone, it wouldn't be an issue. TSJ: Thanks for that. SS: Gag! TSM: So the question is, what are we going to do about it? SS and TSJ: We? TSM: We can't sit idle, can we? TSJ: Certainly not. TSM: And we can't let the men think we'll not persevere. SS: So it's either work with Tesla here or pass? [Scottie gives an eyeroll.] Fine. Let's do this. [Fade.] SS: Your sister's up to no good. AM: Speak for yourself. I'm not sure what she's just set into motion but I'm very curious to see. Especially if it's something that can actually get Tesla St. James and Scottie Saratoga on the same page. SS: Never trust a blonde. [The camera fades in to see Salih Mubarak. The tall, lanky Lebanese- American wrestler is wearing jeans and a polo shirt, and is seated on a beach lounger. A glass of iced tea and a rolled up magazine is besides him.] Sal: Hey, everyone! Sal, the better looking half of Max and Sal, here. We've got our first big match in L-PRO, and it's a first round match for the L-PRO tag team titles! Now, we know the HEAT are in the tournament... [Cut to a dartboard with a picture of Arvelle "Magic" LaFayette in the center. A dart comes flying through the air and catches Arvelle in the shoulder. Max Weinrib walks over and grabs the dart.] Max: But this isn't about past history. It's about the future. And the future is our first round matchup with the Midnight Children. [Cut back to Sal, sipping on his iced tea.] Sal: Buster MacDonald & Remy Dupuis. Really talented, but young. And, more importantly, we've heard that they aren't always on the same page. [Cut to Max.] Max: You can't do that on this level. A tag team is a finely tuned engine. You can't be disagreeing. [Cut to Sal, grabbing the magazine.] Sal: A tag team that doesn't get along will NEVER... [Sal opens the magazine, showing 'Wrestling Today' with Simon O'Neal and Paul Wong holding the UWF World Tag Team Titles.] Sal: ...ever be successful. Cut to Max, walking down a corridor. Posters of various wrestlers are framed along the walls. He stops next to a picture of Michael Bonn and Ryu Osawa, the tag team of "Don't Go There". Max: It causes too many problems. A tag team needs to think as one. Sal: That's what makes tag teams different from solo wrestling. You have to work together... [Sal turns the page to an article discussing Tom Landis and Perry Fontana as PVW Tag Team Champions.] [Cut to Max, walking back down the corridor.] Max: If a team argues amongst themselves, they can't succeed...ever. [Max walks by a poster of Max and Sal. Without breaking stride, Max pulls out a permanent marker and begins drawing devil horns on Sal's face. Cut to Sal, who is busy with a pair of scissors as he cuts the head of Max off a photo from the magazine.] Sal: They have a ton of potential, and if they ever get their act together... [Cut to Max, who has added a forked tongue and wings to the poster of Sal.] Max: They'll be very dangerous. But for this week... [Cut to Sal, who is pasting Max's head on a picture of the 500 pound Twinkletoes Tiwilliger.] Sal: Our teamwork will help us pull out the win. __ ____ ____ ____ L / / / __ \/ __ \/ __ \ P / / _____/ /_/ / /_/ / / / /-------------------------- R / /__/____/ ____/ _, _/ /_/ / LEGACY PRO BREAKOUT O /_____/ /_/ /_/ |_|\____/---------------------------- TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT[ROUND ONE]: Max & Sal versus The Midnight Children ----------------------------------------------------------- BC: The following contest is another first round match in the Tag Team Championship Tournament! Introducing first... ["Let The Beats Bang" by G-Ville starts up over the PA, and a good section of the crowd begins to cheer!] BC: At a total combined weight of four hundred and sixty-seven pounds, they hail from Montreal, Quebec and Toronto, Ontario respectively, the team of Buster MacDonald... Remy Dupuis... THE MIDNIIIIIIIIIGHT CHILLLLLDREEEEENNNNNNNNN! [And together they come through the entrance portal, it's Buster who sprints quickly down the ramp right to ringside as his partner takes his time. MacDonald rolls up onto the apron and plays to the crowd as the more reserved Dupuis eventually joins Buster, as the Midnight Children duck into the ring together.] AM: The former UWF tag team is ready for action once again. They didn't get too much of a chance the last time they were on a more national stage so you can bet they'll make the most of it here. SS: Either that or they're jinxed and now L-PRO's going to fail just like the other place. BC: And their opponents! [As "Here We Go Again" by OK Go takes over the loudspeakers, the audience continues to roar loudly! In the ring, Remy and Buster watch as Max Weinrib is the first to emerge from the back.] BC: From New York, New York, weighing in at a combined five hundred and twelve pounds, they are Max Weinrib and Salih Mubarak... MAAAAAAAAAAAX AAAAAAAAAAAND SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL! [Mubarak follows out from the locker rooms after his partner, as they both slap hands along the sides of the aisleway towards the ring. The crowd is going crazy for them, of the two they're the more high profile team, having had great visibility as part of PVW including winning the tag team championship there.] AM: What a coup these two are, to be here in LEGACY Pro. Max and Sal were the final PVW World Tag Team Champions, and have every bit as much a chance to be the first ever L-PRO Champions too. SS: Great, more guys who shuttered a promotion. Do we really need enough people giving this place bad juju? Because Sammy doesn't want to be back on the unemployment line, Red. [After getting to the ring, Max and Sal stand across from the Midnight Children, eyeing one another over but there's an obvious show of respect for each other. Both teams talk over who'll start the contest out, and soon it's Remy and Max who step to the outside apron, leaving Buster MacDonald and Sal Mubarak to start the match out. A handshake at the bell, before the two lock up with a standard collar and elbow. Compared to how the other matches tonight have gone, the crowd pops slightly for the show of sportsmanship.] SS: Oh I got it now. This is the bathroom break match. AM: Oh shut up and enjoy the display of professional wrestling for a change, Sam. This should be an incredible match. [Right away both men try to go for similar offense, and as a result they fight to a standstill as each tries for lunging kicks and high impact moves, but each is able to counter the other just as fast. The similarities aren't lost on the crowd, who pops as Buster tries for a go- behind into a suplex throw only to watch Sal land on his feet out of the throw and immediately come back with an armdrag takedown on Buster. MacDonald returns to his feet right away and blocks a diving kick, sweeping Sal's leg and tries a jumping legdrop but has it blocked at the last minute by Sal instead. Both roll to their feet, and the noise of the crowd gets louder as both are given an appreciative pop.] AM: For a change it's great to see some competitive, clean action. SS: And one of these teams gets to face the HEAT next in the tournament? Good luck with that. [Another lock-up, this time Sal controls it with a throw to the ropes into a spinning elbowsmash, and spikes Buster into the mat with a swinging neckbreaker fast. The speed of Mubarak is apparent as he keeps pinballing off the ropes for offensive maneuvers, and Buster is narrowly able to escape a pinfall attempt. Sal tags out to Max, as Weinrib comes in and immediately tries to follow up with a lariat off an irish whip, but it's Buster's turn to use his speed as he slips between Max's legs and rockets back with a flying forearm off the ropes. Soon a tag to his partner, Remy Dupuis, lets the other halves of the teams match up, with Dupuis snagging Weinrib with an armdrag takedown. His technical repertoire takes Max by surprise a little bit, but it wasn't long before Max is able to counter back with a simple headbutt that staggers Remy, and lifting him up across his shoulders let Weinrib use an airplane spin to dizzy Remy. Max takes over and scoops Dupuis up for a short powerslam, the power attack becoming more and more important as the balance shifts more towards the side of the former PVW Tag Team Champions.] AM: You have to give the experience factor to Max and Sal, they've been teaming together for quite a while and have had success elsewhere before. The Midnight Children are products of UWF legend Alex Kidd's tutelage, coming from his wrestling school and had a handful of matches in the UWF before the company closed its doors. SS: You're acting like either team is impressive. I'm not seeing much of anything from either of these teams, period. AM: Then keep watching this match, they're going to show you exactly what they can do. [Just as Max goes for a butterfly suplex, Remy is able to roll through and counter it into a standing dropkick to the head, leaving Weinrib a little dazed and open to a floatover DDT that drills him into the mat. It's enough for a two count, but after Weinrib escapes Remy makes the tag to Buster. The Midnights hit hard with a couple of doubleteam maneuvers, but Sal comes charging back into the ring and catches Remy with a running european uppercut that floors him, and the match begins to descend into a little chaos as all four men start to lay into one another. After a counter Buster catches Sal with a running bulldog to take him down, he leaves himself open to a lariat by Max that flips him 360 degrees to the canvas hard. Inexperience by the Midnights allows Max and Sal to gain control and keep it with some quick tags in and out of their own now, culminating in a superkick on Buster's chin that carried him right into Max's olympic slam into the mat.] AM: SHUT UP SHUTTIN' UP! Is this it? ONE! TWO! THR- DUPUIS WITH A DIVING SAVE TO BREAK UP THE PINFALL! This match was nearly over! SS: Okay I'll give them that one, that was good. [With Remy saving MacDonald from the pin, Sal tries to grab him and toss him from the ring but in turn was thrown to the outside himself. An asai moonsault onto Max puts him down quickly, but the referee refuses to make the cover since he wasn't the legal man. Dragging Buster onto Max instead, it gains a two count before Weinrib kicked out. The regrouping Midnight Children very quickly team up with an irish whip straight into a Buster powerslam to the mat, but now it's Sal who breaks up the cover. All four wrestlers pour back into the ring again, and the official does his best to sort things out leaving Buster and Max still in the ring. In the middle of the confusion Max spun around and CONNECTED with a devastating roaring elbow on Buster which causes him to crumple to the mat, and it's Max who drops and hooks a leg right away thanks to the Meshugganah!] AM: Here we go! ONE! TWO! THREE! ["Here We Go Again" hits the sound system as the crowd pops, and Sal jumps back into the ring to celebrate with his partner. A dazed Max rolls to his knees, and soon the winners are having their arms raised by the referee.] BC: Here are your winners, advancing to the semi-finals of the tag team title tournament... MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND SAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL! AM: Wow! That one was a sprint all the way by two incredibly talented teams, and in the end it's Max and Sal who are moving on! SS: And don't think the HEAT weren't watching this match with a vested interest, they're not strangers to these two at all. I have to think that gives them the edge in the next round, not to mention the tournament overall. [The Midnight Children are disappointed as they regroup in the corner, but before they leave the ring they again offer a handshake to Max and Sal, who are happy to accept it. The crowd cheers for both men for the spirited contest, and soon after the Midnights depart, so too do Max and Sal with hi-fives for the fans. Cut back to the announce position now.] AM: So we do know that the next round we'll see the HEAT taking on Max and Sal in tag team competition, in a renewal of quite a rivalry between those two teams. Before that though, we'll have the other two first round matches right here next week. And now- [Before Amy can continue, she is rudely interrupted by base beat and porn stylized guitar of Nemesis' "To the Future." And we say rude because... well, you'll see why this is described in such a way very soon.] SS: Oh, I sense greatness coming out! AM: How would you even know? SS: I have a fifth sense about these things. Voice Over the Arena Speakers: YO YO YO! WHAT IT IS? WHAT IT IS! [Out from the entrance way come two scrawny kids, no older than 22, dressed about as gangster as well-to-do suburban brats can get. If there is a spectrum of Vanilla Ice to Eminem, Ice is rolling in his grave. Even if he's not dead. At their side, is a short, stocky bowling ball of a woman that may or may not be the runt of the litter. She's dressed just as borderline sad/offensive as the other two. Unfortunately, because every thing about what is to come is unfortunate, they have microphones.] Female: May I have your attention please! It is time to introduce the next greatest thing and all the _thing_ you'll ever need in your pitiful lives! Kid #1: We hail from the mean streets of Minnesota! Kid #2: Land of like... a bajillion' lakes represent! Female: Whaaaaat? Kid #1: Represent! AM: Oh. My. God. SS: I take it back. Not even I was prepared for this. [As this trio makes their way to the ring the audience sits in stunned silence. Some cry for they have suddenly begun to question their faith in... everything. Others shrug, and get up to go urinate. In this trio's honor.] Kid #1: All you meatheads in L-PRO want to talk about legacy? Female: Whatevs. Kid #2: We three amigos are the TRUE legacy. Female: What SAY? Kid #2: I said we are the TRUE legacy. Female: No WAY? Kid #1: Total way. And let me SAY that on this DAY you will learn to CRAve us! Kid #2: We are the offspring of the SINGLE. GREATEST. U. W. F. WORLD. HEAVY. WEIGHT. CHAMPION. [kid #2 takes a breath because... well, he's gassed.] Kid #2: OF. ALL. TIME! Female and Fid #1: OF. ALL. TIME! Kid #2: So let us get it out of the WAY and SAY our NAme in this GAme of life! Kid #1: I am the Bebop Bringin' Grandmaster of parTAY... JAY! Kid #2: And I'm your rocksteady bufFET of gorgeousness... CLAY! Female: And I am your RAY of GRAY sky CHAsin' aWAY sunshine... MAY! Jay: Together, we are the children of... Together: RAE! Clay: And never let yourselves forget this legacy of greatness! Together: KWAN! May: And here and now we are... [The three sibligns huddle close and riase three fingers each. With their powers combined they are...] Together: TRAE-KWAN! [And just when you think the crowd can't explode with any greater amount of boo's, they do the strangest thing. They go silent... ...when the lights go out.] AM: Oh no... SS: My nipples just got hard! [And when the lights come up, the crowd loses their collective minds, launching into the loudest pop iaginable. Nothing can be heard over the sounds of excitement from the fans save the little-girl squealing of Sam Steeley.] SS: SERGE ANNIS! SERGE ANNIS! [In what is possibly the smartest decision to ever be made in her life, May Kwan is already halfway up the entrance way towards her car to get the hell out of town. Her brothers on the other hand are far, far stupider in they thingk that they can take the wrstling legend. Jay moves in first but Annis is far to fast for the scrawny kid from Minnesota. The multiple time World Champion lifts Jay over his head and tosses the poor bastard all the way into the ccrowd. Unfortunatly for Jay, the audience parts like the red sea, allowing him to crash into the arena chairs like a steel cage invading blimp.] AM: ... SS: SERGE ANNIS! SERGE ANNIS! AM: ... [Clay has a little bit more luck, landing a few punches to the breadbasket of the Epitome of Evil. But either the blows are so weak or Annis is simply to strong for any of it to have any effect. Annis grabs the Kwan spawn by the throat and easily lifts him into the air. He walks to the side of the ring and Epitomizes him to the outside, the poor moron's back coming across the crowd barrier and breaking him in half like a sickly, chokeslammed antelope. The crowd is understandably excited.] Crowd: WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! WEL-COME BACK~! [Annis takes one of the microphones dropped by the Kwan clan and lets out a set of words that sets the tone for the night.] SA: Shut the festering wounds you call mouths. [Still excited, the crowd aquieses to the legend's demand. His aura is so strong, they bow to his power. Not a soul in that audience believes that Serge Annis wouldn't Epitomize them all just to prove a point.] SA: I will not waste my breath to dignify this house of falsehood. Nor will I prattle on about my "legacy." Either you understand my place in the universe, or you are already dead. SS: I have never felt so alive! AM: Quiet Sam! SA: I have but one objective, the only objective that a hunter lives by, the only objective that a predator bleeds and breathes by. I am here for a prey that has eluded me for far too long and the time has come for me to put and end to his so called... [Serge's face turns sour, as if the taste of his next word is bitter.] SA: ...bastardism. [The crowd knows exactly who Serge is referring to and they once again launch into a riotous set of cheers. Once more, Serge looks to be ont he verge of wiping the distaste from his mouth.] SA: Kyle Lee... I know you're here. I smell your disquieting thumbprint on this abomination of a federation. I know you, as a hunter knows the hunted. You can't stay away. You're a deer caught in the headlights seeking the fleeting glory you only wish you could attain. I know you are here. But where? Where is the question. [Serge begins to scan the crowd.] SA: You're near... you're always near. How do I know? [And that scanning stops when he spies Amy Marshall sitting at the announce position at the top of the ramp.] SA: Her. SS: Amy, I love you like... never mind. I don't love you. But you still probably want to run for your life. AM: I'm not going anywhere Sam. SA: He's always had a passion for her. And I wonder... [Some in the crowd start to panic as Serge exits through the ring ropes and methodically makes his way down the steps. Slowly, he begins to walk up the entrance way.] SA: What is it he sees? [Closer he creeps but she does not move. Sam, by this point, is ten feet away.] SS: Nice knowing ya' red. AM: ... [Serge steps to the table, towering over Amy Marshall, but the redhead still does not back down.] SA: Tell me, Marshall. Do you stand defiant because you are brave? [He smiles...] SA: ...or because your love hides behind your skirts? [Amy stands in anger and rears back to deliver one of her patented slaps. But from the crowd comes two things. One, a commotion and two, "The Doomsayer" himself.] SS: HOLY [BLEEP]! WHERE DID HE COME FROM? [Indeed, Kyle Lee comes comes from the crowd to jump Annis before the Epitome of Evil can continue his taunt. Visibly shaken at the close call with a possible fatal slap, Amy sits down awash in adrenaline. Meanwhile, Lee and Annis brawl ferociously on the entranceway, emboldened by the fired up crowd. Within seconds, every security team member and then some arrive to try and pull the two former World Champions apart. But there is difficulty in doing so. Fists fly and the innocent are caught in the wake. The announce team is silent, their headsets obviously thrown off by now as they witness the brawl underway, as both Annis and Lee attempt to throw punches at each other despite the legion of security personel and low-level wrestlers in between them. Annis tosses a couple of them aside like ragdolls, and Lee likewise manages to remove one or two from the equation before making a mighty leap over more to get at Serge. A few more shots are exchanged as the crowd is positively molten over this, only booing when more security arrive on the scene and do manage to separate the two gladiators. Annis is swarmed and herded away to the back, leaving Lee standing on the entrance in torn street clothes surrounded by several guards as well. Once his foe is gone from sight Lee glances over to the redhead at the announce position and nods, their line of sight fixed on one another for just a moment or two before he as well leaves. In the chaos, the ringside area has managed to be cleared of what's left of the Kwons. Unsure what else to do, Bill Chapman has retaken his spot in the center of the ring, ready for the main event. The fumbling sounds of headsets being picked back up now can be heard, followed by Amy's voice which still bears a tinge of adrenaline and breathlessness behind it.] AM: I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, that was absolutely not planned here. I'm not sure what Serge Annis was doing here or what he hoped to accomplish but there was no reason at all for him to be here tonight. SS: Like he needs a reason to. He built this territory, Marshall. That's all the reason he needs. AM: Be that as it may, we do have a show to put on still. [clears her throat] Why don't we just send it down to the ring for tonight's huge main event, which promises to be a classic. SS: Sure. Just keep looking over your shoulder for any signs of evil in the meantime. __ ____ ____ ____ L / / / __ \/ __ \/ __ \ P / / _____/ /_/ / /_/ / / / /-------------------------- R / /__/____/ ____/ _, _/ /_/ / LEGACY PRO BREAKOUT O /_____/ /_/ /_/ |_|\____/---------------------------- MAIN EVENT, LEGACY TITLE QUALIFIER MATCH: Angus Andrews versus "Hollywood" Scott Masters ----------------------------------------------------------- [The arena lights dim as a pair of spotlights track along the back wall of the arena...at which point the familiar voice of Don LaFontaine speaks.] DL: In a world where people have lost their way...where sports fans became confused and bored with the product that was forced upon them, one man came out of Hollywood to fight the monotony and set them free...to bring Entertainment back into Sports! [The familar brass opening to "Let it Fly Now" (the theme from Rocky) blares to life over the PA system as the two spotlights converge on the entryway and the impressive form of "Hollywood" Scott Masters. The self- proclaimed world famous actor is dressed for competition, wearing a pair of orange trunks with red-bordered yellow stars on the butt with matching boots, elbow and knee pads. He is flanked by his stunt doubles (Mr. Right and Mr. Left, who look disturbingly similar to Scott Masters, right down to the ring attire and shoulder tattoos), and his manager the notorious Percy Childes, manager to the stars. After offering a smirk to his fans, Scott waves to them, then nods as the quartet head towards the ring.] BC: The following contest is our main event of the evening! And it is a qualifying match for the Iron Survival Match to determine the inaugural L-PRO Heavyweight Champion! Introducing first, making his way to the ring at this time and accompanied by Percy Childes, Mr. Right and Mr. Left, from Boston, Massachussetts, weighing in tonight at two hundred and thirty-five pounds... "HOLLYYYYYWOOOOOD" SCOTTTTTTTT MASTERRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSS! [Masters climbs into the ring while the rest of his group remains at ringside, the shameless self-promoting Childes talking up Masters the whole time.] AM: I'm a little creeped out by how much those two guys look exactly like Masters there. SS: They're his stunt doubles, that's kind of the point. All I know is that Scott looks exactly like a champion SHOULD look. Might as well give him the strap now, with him as the face of the company L-PRO is going to go places fast! [The house lights flicker, dim, then wink out completely. Gonjasufi's "Ancestors" hits the loudspeakers and cues a small amount of cheers.] BC: And his opponent! Making his way to the ring... hailing from Easton, Pennsylvania... weighing in at two hundred and fourteen pounds and standing at six feet, one inch... ANGUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS ANNNNNNDRRRREEEEEWSSSSSSSSSS! [The lights return as Angus Andrews walks through the curtains. The former legend of jisatsu is dressed in a white "School of Rufus Knox" t- shirt tightly hugging his torso, a pair of baggy black MMA shorts, and black wrestling boots. His buzzed hair is not close enough to disguise the salt and pepper sprinkled throughout and reveals the deep scars on his forehead. Angus intently makes his way down the aisle, barely noticing the smattering of cheers he's been denied the pleasure of hearing for a number of years. Once reaching the ring, Andrews rolls under the ropes and enters, choosing to stand in the corner rather than rest his head on the bottom turnbuckle like usual. Eyeing the ringside area, Angus stays excessively alert. He pats his shirt and begins scaling the ropes, taking in a feel for the ring.] SS: This guy's considered a contender for the gold? He looks like he might fall asleep here. AM: You really haven't paid attention at all, have you? Angus Andrews has quite the infamous reputation in wrestling, and it's been a bit of an ugly past at times. He's notorius for wrestling in deathmatches and hardcore situations, but now he's here in L-PRO looking for that big break. [Waiting for the bell, the moment it rings Andrews is off after Masters. Charging him and taking him to the corner, a couple of battering forearms is all he gets in before Masters ducks between the ropes for the referee break. As soon as Angus is backed up Masters catches him with a cheap shot to the throat, and takes over on offense, switching up and putting Andrews in the corner for a series of sharp elbows of his own. Both men began to exchange shots however, with Masters again gaining control after a subtle trip off the ropes from Percy Childes on the outside of the ring, and thanks to some words of warning Masters hits him again and takes Angus to the mat with a chop block into the back of the legs. Working on him down on the mat, a pinfall attempt is shrugged right off as Andrews sits up in time to get caught with a chinlock. He struggles to work back to his feet and breaks free with another kneelift, then hooks Masters and drops him with a neckbreaker across his knee.] AM: Neither of these men are what you'd call textbook wrestlers, but when push comes to shove both Angus and Scott Masters can push themselves beyond their limits here. SS: The word you're looking for is ugly. At least with Andrews. I'd never use that term when it comes to Scott Masters. [Slowly working his way back to his feet, Andrews frees himself with a couple of hard elbows to the ribcage and then shoves Masters off, belting him with a hard kneelift. It's his turn to take control, peppering his opponent with battering shots, throwing him into the ropes and taking him off his feet with a high back bodydrop. Masters is left reeling, and a power dropkick by Angus sends him crashing to the outside apron where he narrowly avoids being sent crashing to the floor by jumping down on his own to confer with Percy, who's even more animated now as he gestures wildly to Masters. Back in the ring, Andrews shouts at him to get back in the ring, drawing a loud pop from the L-PRO faithful.] AM: As strange as it is, this crowd is taking to Angus Andrews here. That hasn't happened too often in his career. SS: These people aren't exactly known for their great taste in talent though. How else do you explain decades of cheering for Tom Landis? [Masters slowly climbs back up onto the apron and starts to return to the ring, but gets caught by Andrews who immediately hooks him and tries to drag him back in by the head. A trip puts Masters on top, and he tries to steal a fast cover with his feet hanging off of the top rope, a fact the referee notices immediately thanks to him being nearly completely vertical. Both men rise back up, and Andrews decides to suplex Scott out of his boots to finally get things going. The crowd pops again for him, and Andrews is on him hammering away. Dragging him back up, he sets up for a german suplex only to be caught in the side of the head with a backhand, and Masters scores with a jumping knee strike before pushing Angus back to the corner again. A series of mounted punches is halted by an inverted atomic drop followed right up by a running clothesline that propels both men over the top rope to the floor!] AM: Andrews and Masters are both letting it all hang out now, only one of these men will make it into the Iron Survival match to crown the first L- PRO champion! They both want it! SS: Yeah but one of them has one of the most brilliant minds in the business behind him, the other one enjoys blowing himself up just for fun. You tell me who's got the edge? [Both men are on their feet first, but again Andrews is just a hair quicker and grabs Masters by the throat, pummeling him and tossing him into the side of the ring. A forearm around the neck allows him to smash his face into the edge of the ring, and then picks him up for a short angled suplex that lays Masters out on the apron, jamming his neck against it and causing Masters to clutch his head in pain.] SS: What the hell was that? That doesn't seem all that fair and sportsmanlike. I told you Angus Andrews couldn't be trusted. Let them settle this in the ring, not out on the floor like that. [Cranking on his head once again with his bare hands, Angus rolls him back out of the ring and hoists him up by the throat against the ringpost, only letting go thanks to a kick to the stomach. As Scott tries to slip back in through the ropes the referee is there to try and help out, which allows Masters to thumb Andrews in the eyes. Now taking the referee's attention away Masters makes a show of pulling himself up while on the outside, Mr. Left and Mr. Right grab Angus and send him crashing into the ring barricade not once but twice, each time back-first and then follow it with a double whip into the side of the ring. With Andrews in a ton of pain they roll him back under the ropes just as Masters finally lets go of the referee, and stomps the hell out of his opponent.] SS: See, perfect game plan. AM: Are you kidding me? You just complained about keeping things inside the ring, but you're fine with those two hired goons interfering? SS: That's what makes Masters one of the best. With an entourage like that behind him, there's no telling how far he can get in this business. [Masters drops a knee into Andrews' face and tries again to cover him, but once again Angus kicks out. Slapping the mat to try and will him back into things, Andrews slowly makes it back to his feet as Masters keeps on peppering him, hooking him with a side headlock but after Andrews reverses an irish whip he explodes forward and drives Masters into the mat with a devastating spear. Both men are hurting, but the crowd is firmly behind Andrews now, even as Masters grabs the ropes to haul himself back up. A running kick into the ribcage of Angus Andrews causes the veteran to grunt as he rolls over onto his back, and Masters tries to land a knee into the throat but his leg is caught, and Angus wills himself back to his feet, all the while having Masters' leg trapped in his grip. Swinging wildly to break free, Angus lets go and spins him around, scoops Masters up across his shoulders to set up for a Death Valley Driver. But Scott manages to break free as he rakes the face, lands behind Andrews and attempts to roll him up off the ropes. Shrugging him off, Angus spins and catches him with a boot to the stomach and quickly snares Masters with a double underhook and PLANTS HIM into the mat with a vicious impact DDT. The force of it puts Masters down, and with a leg hooked Andrews drapes himself across.] AM: THE YEARS OF FRUSTRATION! Cover by Angus Andrews- One! TWo! Three! [A loud pop rises from the crowd as "Ancestors" plays, and a weary Andrews picks himself up in victory.] SS: Are you kidding me? That guy's in the championship match? What is this, the late nineties? AM: He deserves to be in there, Angus Andrews just scored possibly the biggest win of his career! He's the first person to enter the Iron Survival Match, to be joined by three more participants to come! BC: Here is your winner, ADVANCING TO THE LEGACY CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH... ANNNNNNNNNNNGUUUUUUUUSSSSS ANDRRRREWWWWSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! [As Angus slowly rises, the official raises his arm in triumph. Spent, he collapses against the ropes and keeps himself upright, a defiant look on his face as the crowd is cheering for him... something else he's not entirely used to.] AM: What an evening fans, we're just about out of time here so for all of us, I'm Amy Marshall, tune in next time for more LEGACY Pro action! Goodnight from L-PRO Arena! [Fade.]