Friday Night Clash 21
Post Live Air
The once-thrilling roar of the Tokyo Dome had been replaced by an eerie, unsettling quiet. The arena, now littered with broken bodies, shattered equipment, and the aftermath of chaos, stood as a monument to the violence that had just unfolded. Haruki Tanaka stood at the center of the ring, his sharp eyes surveying the devastation around him as if the destruction were a work of art. Blood had been spilled, bones had been broken, yet this was merely the beginning.
The flashing red and blue lights of police vehicles bathed the arena in a strobe-like haze, casting harsh shadows across the carnage. Dozens of Japanese Riot Police, clad in black body armor, filled the stadium, their stern faces hidden behind riot masks. The once-proud wrestlers of AAPW—now bloody and bruised—stood surrounded. Even warriors could be cornered.
Haruki Tanaka remained stoic, his arms crossed, his dark eyes filled with defiance. His lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk as he watched the Riot Police fan out around him and his wrestlers. He was ready for this. He had planned for it. The trap had been sprung, but this was not the defeat it appeared to be—it was only a stepping stone.
Riot Police Captain Takeda, a grizzled officer with a hardened expression, stepped forward. His voice boomed with authority as he addressed the leader of the invasion.
Captain Takeda: Haruki Tanaka! You and your wrestlers are under arrest for inciting violence, assault,
and conspiracy to commit public unrest. Surrender peacefully, or we will use force!
Tanaka's gaze never wavered. He could feel the eyes of his men on him—Daichi Sasaki, Saiko Sasori, Yasuo Okada, and the rest of The Syndicate—waiting for his signal, his command. The AAPW roster stood tense, their fists clenched, their bodies battered but ready to fight again. Some glanced at one another nervously, weighing their options.
Haruki Tanaka: (calmly but with conviction) Captain, you come here with the law, but you forget—tonight, we took back what was rightfully ours. What we accomplished tonight for Japan will be well worth the punishment you have planned for us.
The tension in the air was suffocating. The crowd, earlier in an uproar, now stood in stunned silence, watching as their heroes faced the full weight of Japanese authority. The cameras that had captured the entire brawl were still rolling, broadcasting the aftermath to the world. Saiko Sasori, the enigmatic AAPW Heavyweight Champion, remained impassive. His mask concealed any sign of emotion, but his towering presence spoke volumes. He glanced at Tanaka briefly, a silent exchange passing between them. This was not their defeat—it was all part of the master plan.
As the Riot Police inched forward, Daichi Sasaki, leader of The Syndicate, flexed his hands. His fingers twitched toward the lead pipe still clenched in his fist, Chuluun Bolds' dark blood dripping from its end. His eyes flicked toward Tanaka, silently asking for permission to strike back.
Daichi Sasaki: (growling under his breath) Let me finish them. We're not done here.
Sensing the danger in Daichi's defiance, Tanaka stepped forward, his posture commanding obedience.
Haruki Tanaka: No, Daichi. Not now. There will be another time to fight. Tonight, we've made our declaration.
Reluctantly, Daichi lowered his weapon, but not without a snarl of frustration. The Riot Police moved in swiftly, their black-gloved hands snapping handcuffs around the wrists of each wrestler. The cold metal bit into their skin, a harsh reminder that even legends were not untouchable.
Haruki Tanaka was the last to offer his wrists. His gaze never left Captain Takeda's, a silent promise passing between them. The Riot Police Captain tightened the cuffs with more force than necessary, his jaw set in anger. There was a history between these two—old wounds that had never healed.
Captain Takeda: (leaning in, his voice a low growl) You've pushed too far this time, Tanaka. The government will make an example of you and your men.
Tanaka smiled, the expression cold and calculated.
Haruki Tanaka: (whispering) We'll see, Captain. We'll see who the people rally behind.
The camera lights flashed incessantly as the once-proud AAPW wrestlers were led up the ramp in handcuffs, their heads held high despite their injuries. As the press swarmed, exiting the Tokyo dome, they shouted questions in rapid Japanese, but Tanaka ignored them. He had made his move. Now, all he had to do was sit back and watch the fans, the media, the authorities, and most of all, Rupert Mudcock react. One more persistent reporter shoved her microphone toward Tanaka's face as he was loaded into the police van.
Reporter: Tanaka-san, was this violence worth it? What do you have to say to the world watching right now?
Tanaka paused at the van's door. He turned slowly, his eyes locking on the reporter. In a voice filled with cold certainty, he delivered his message.
Haruki Tanaka: (smiling) Worth it? This is just the start. The world doesn't know what's coming. Ultimate Wrestling doesn't know what's coming.
With that, the police van door slammed shut, sealing him and the syndicate stable inside. The van's engine rumbled to life as the rest of the AAPW roster was loaded into similar-looking police riot vans before the convoy of police vehicles began pulling away, their flashing lights casting long shadows over the Dome.
Inside the cramped prisoner van, the AAPW wrestlers sat in silence, their bodies swaying with the vehicle's motion as it navigated the streets of Tokyo. The cold, metallic seats offered no comfort, and the atmosphere was thick with defiance, uncertainty, and smoldering anger. Daichi Sasaki sat with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead. The frustration of the night's events was etched into every line of his face.
Yasuo Okada, usually the cocky "Street Rat," was quieter than usual, his eyes darting nervously toward the barred windows. This wasn't unfamiliar territory for a man who had grown up on the streets, but the stakes felt different now. His usual bravado was replaced with unease.
Yasuo Okada: (muttering) You think they'll hold us long?
Isao Kurosawa, known for his cold, calculating nature, answered without looking up.
Isao Kurosawa: (grimly) They'll try to make an example of us, but Tanaka and Yamamoto will find us all
a way out. He always does.
Saiko Sasori remained eerily silent, his masked face turned toward the window. Even in the dim light, his presence was intimidating. No one spoke to him. There was an unspoken understanding that Sasori, the living legend, operated on a different level. His focus was elsewhere, perhaps on the upcoming battle that Tanaka had promised against the Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Heavyweight Champion Chuluun Bold.
Saya Kimura, one of the younger roster members, shifted uncomfortably. Her hands were cuffed tightly before her, and she fidgeted nervously. She was new to this level of violence and had never been arrested before. She wasn't sure she was ready for the fallout.
Saya Kimura: (hesitant) What if… what if this goes bad for us? What if they really throw us in prison? I don't want to spend the next ten years in some cell.
Daichi Sasaki shot her a sharp look, his voice filled with disgust and reassurance.
Daichi Sasaki: Shut up, Sayai. Tanaka has this under control. The Yakuza have connections, and so does AAPW. You'll be back in the ring before you know it.
The younger wrestler swallowed hard, nodding but still unconvinced. The uncertainty gnawed at her until Haruki Tanaka himself finally spoke.
Haruki Tanaka: No fans were hurt or public property damaged. The authorities can call it a riot all they want. This was a challenge, and Rupert will drop the charges against all of you.
Saya Kimura: How can you be so sure?
Haruki Tanaka: Because we made him look weak. We made Ultimate Wrestling look weak. If he wants to keep the fans' support, he knows he has to go through with the Ronin Rumble challenge. He can’t do that with all of you in prison, my dear.
Daichi Sasaki: What about you?
Haruki Tanaka: Oh! No, he won’t drop the charges against me. A fat American Gaijin like him will also try to sue me for every penny. Yamamoto will have me on bail by the end of the week, but the lawyers and I will have to get creative and figure out how to worm my way out of this one.
As Tanaka’s words hung in the air, the mood in the van shifted. There was a mixture of tension and anticipation among the AAPW wrestlers. They knew Haruki Tanaka was no ordinary man; he was the orchestrator of their rebellion, the strategist who had led them to this point. But there was a gravity to his admission—the acknowledgment that, for all his planning, he too would face consequences.
Daichi Sasaki, always the hot-blooded leader of The Syndicate, leaned back in his seat, his fists still clenched as though ready to fight again.
Daichi Sasaki: You’re saying Rupert will let us all off the hook, but not you?
Tanaka remained calm, his eyes unwavering as he glanced at Daichi.
Haruki Tanaka: Rupert will have no choice but to release the rest of you if he wants to proceed with the Ronin Rumble. The fans expect it, and the world is watching. He won’t risk throwing away the spectacle for the sake of revenge. But me? He’ll want to make an example out of me.
The younger wrestlers exchanged uneasy glances. Still rattled by the events, Saya Kimura fidgeted in her seat, unable to mask her nerves.
Saya Kimura: What will they do to you?
Tanaka let out a soft chuckle, though no humor existed.
Haruki Tanaka: Prison, lawsuits, the whole work. But don't worry about me, Saya. Yamamoto and I have weathered worse. The Yakuza's influence runs deep, and the government isn’t immune to persuasion. In the meantime, I will pay the bail for my freedom.
Sasori, silent throughout the exchange, finally turned his head toward Tanaka.
Saiko Sasori: And Chuluun Bold? What about him? He’s no ordinary opponent.
Tanaka’s eyes met Sasori’s, and for a brief moment, the weight of the secret he carried seemed to press down on him. He could never let Sasori know the full truth—Sasori's honor was too deeply ingrained, and knowing what truly bound Bold to the Yakuza would break the sanctity of the fight.
Tanaka kept his expression neutral, giving nothing away.
Haruki Tanaka: Bold will not be an issue.
Sasori’s brow furrowed, sensing there was more to Tanaka’s words than he was letting on. But, as always, the champion chose not to pry. He respected Tanaka’s judgment, even if it left questions unanswered.
Saiko Sasori: I’ll face him at his strongest. I need no advantage.
Tanaka nodded, his voice calm but firm.
Haruki Tanaka: You’ll get that chance. Bold will be strong—no doubt, when the time comes, you’ll prove that even the mightiest can fall.
Sasori inclined his head slightly, accepting the response, even as the rest of the van remained silent. Isao Kurosawa shifted in his seat, arms crossed, while Yasuo Okada stared at the barred windows, a mix of nervousness and adrenaline coursing through him. They were all processing the night’s events—the invasion, the chaos, the arrests. Yet each knew that the war they had started was far from over. In the corner, Saya Kimura finally spoke again, her voice trembling slightly.
Saya Kimura: But what if... What if we do go to prison? What if this all goes wrong?
Daichi Sasaki: God damn it, Saya! Are you not listening? Tanaka’s got this under control.
Tanaka's gaze softened slightly as he looked at the younger wrestler, recognizing her fear. He knew that while many of his men were hardened by years of battle in and out of the ring, some, like Saya, were not yet fully prepared for the consequences of this level of rebellion. He leaned forward, his tone reassuring but firm.
Haruki Tanaka: Saya, I understand your fear. But you’re part of something much larger now. You’ll be back in the ring, fighting for AAPW’s honor. Trust in that. Rupert cannot afford to imprison us all—not without losing face. He will drop the charges for the sake of the spectacle.
There was a murmur of agreement among the others. They knew Tanaka was right. The Ronin Rumble spectacle was too valuable for Rupert to throw away. They knew that Asian wrestling fans across the Eastern Hemisphere would abandon Ultimate Wrestling if they didn’t meet the challenge head-on. But there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the risks still looming over them. Haruki Tanaka's fate hung in the balance, and though he remained composed, the weight of his decisions pressed heavily on his shoulders.
The police van rattled along the darkened streets of Tokyo, the cold, sterile interior starkly contrasting the heated tension inside. Daichi Sasaki clenched his fists, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. His instinct was to fight back, but Tanaka’s voice echoed in his mind: "Not now." Tanaka glanced out the barred windows, the neon lights of Tokyo flashing by, casting fleeting reflections across the wrestlers' faces. His mind raced, not with regret but with calculation. This was not a defeat. This was a chess move, and he had sacrificed a pawn. The game was far from over.
Finally, Tanaka turned his gaze back to the group, his voice low but commanding.
Haruki Tanaka: Tonight, we sent a message. That message will echo across the wrestling world. Rupert Mudcock thinks he can win this war with money and influence. But we have something more powerful. We have honor. We have the spirit of Japan. AAPW will be stronger than ever when this is all over.
There was a palpable shift in the mood. The uncertainty faded, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. Even Saya Kimura straightened her posture, the fear in her eyes dimming as Tanaka’s words took hold. The van lurched to a stop, and the heavy door swung open. Riot Police stood ready to escort the wrestlers into custody, their stern faces unyielding. But as Tanaka stepped out first, his head was held high, and his posture showed no fear. Only resolve. He paused momentarily, taking in the cold Tokyo air, his breath visible in the night.
Haruki Tanaka: (quietly, to himself) This is only the beginning.
And with that, he walked forward, flanked by his warriors, ready to face whatever came next.
3 Hours Later
The Suplex Sunrise
The dim glow of Suplex Sunrise filtered through a haze of smoke and low murmurs. This underground speakeasy, nestled deep beneath the Tokyo Dome, was usually a sanctuary where wrestlers and crew could escape the harshness of life above ground. But tonight, there was an edge to the air. The usual raucous laughter and clink of glasses were subdued, replaced by whispered conversations about the attack and those who’d been brutalized. The Tokyo Dome may have gone quiet, but the weight of the night’s violence clung to the atmosphere like a shroud.
The walls of the speakeasy were lined with nostalgic memorabilia—sepia-toned photos of wrestling legends and faded posters of championship matches from decades ago. Yet tonight, the room seemed to hum with unease, as if even the ghosts of those who had grappled in the ring could sense the tension.
Rupert Mudcock, nursing a swollen jaw and a missing tooth, sat hunched at the bar. Humiliation overshadowed his usual arrogance, and his once-immaculate high-tech Personal Protection suit showed clear signs of damage. The fishbowl helmet part of his suit sat on the bar with a huge chunk of glass missing, and much of what remained spiraled with cracks. The filtration system has been punched in and is no longer operating. For the first time since the Pandemic started, Rupert was completely exposed to the unfiltered air and exhalations of the plebeians around him. Each breath he took came with a slight wince as the pain from his injuries lingered and the thought that he could be contracting the Blovid-13 Virus.
Rupert Mudcock: (muttering) Damned Tanaka. That son of a…
He trailed off, his voice filled with venom. Despite the polished mahogany bar in front of him, his mind was miles away, replaying the humiliating punch that had knocked him down and shattered his sense of invulnerability. Not since Valora Salinas kicked him in the testicles at the very first Friday Night Clash had he been so violated and publicly embarrassed.
Sitting beside him was Devin Zeagal, sporting a stiff neck brace that barely allowed him to move. His normally cool demeanor had been replaced with a simmering rage. A grimace crossed his face each time he moved as his muscles reminded him of when his employee and fellow co-host Kenjiro Tanaka picked him up and slammed him through their announcer table. It wasn’t just physical pain—his pride had been wounded. A Hollywood martial arts megastar and known Aikido master, Zeagal had been made to look extremely pathetic in front of millions of his fans and viewers worldwide. Unlike his big-screen persona, he was untouchable; he’d been reduced to nothing more than a battered figure on the ground as chaos reigned.
Devin Zeagal: That bastard Kenjiro... He'll regret ever putting his hands on me.
As the two men stewed in their injuries and anger, Joey Talladega made his way over, his footsteps light, his presence theatrical. With slicked-back hair, a dapper waistcoat, and that ever-present curled mustache, Joey was both a relic of another time and a master of his domain. There was an almost predatory grace to how he moved, his black eyes gleaming in the dim light as if they held centuries of secrets.
Joey Talladega: Ah, gentlemen! You both look like you’ve been chewed up and spit out by a lion or a Tanaka.
Rupert shot him a withering glare, but Joey, ever the showman, merely grinned wider. He polished a glass with an exaggerated flourish, his mustache twitching with amusement as he looked between the two beaten men.
Joey Talladega: (chuckling) You know, my Aunt Talladega always used to say, ‘There’s no better cure for a bruised ego than a strong drink... or a good old-fashioned vampire bite.’
Rupert scowled, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass as though trying to contain his irritation. His swollen jaw made speaking difficult without discomfort, but he growled through clenched teeth.
Rupert Mudcock: I don’t need your damn jokes right now, Sir.
Joey raised an eyebrow, feigning shock as he poured Rupert’s drink with flair, the whiskey swirling in the glass like liquid gold.
Joey Talladega: Oh, but you do, Rupert! Laughter is the best medicine—laughter and maybe a few centuries of experience. Cheers, old boy!
He slid the glass toward Rupert with a wink, the amber liquid coming to a perfect stop before him. Joey’s grin widened as Rupert snatched the glass, glaring at him before taking a cautious sip. Zeagal, still rubbing his neck in pain, leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the ceiling. The dim lights reflected off his neck brace, making the scene even more pitiful. He finally spoke, his voice barely containing the bitterness.
Devin Zeagal: The guards and extra security we hired were a bad investment. They barely slowed down Tanaka’s roster. Perhaps we should have taken True Chaotic’s warning a little more seriously.
Rupert Mudcock: Hindsight is 20/20! Tell me something I don’t know, Zeagal!
Devin Zeagal: What are we going to do now? We can’t seriously go through those challenges they forced you to agree to? Their champion against ours? Then 30 of their best against 30 of ours in an over-the-top battle royal? Say we lose both matches, will lose the coveted Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Championship, and won’t have any way of challenging for it back.
Rupert Mudcock: They’ve backed us into a corner, Devin. Haruki forced my hand. I can’t back out after the whole world saw me accept it. We lose all respect with wrestling fans around the entire world.
Still polishing glasses with exaggerated elegance, Joey leaned in, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Joey Talladega: Ah, the ol’ Ronin Rumble. Thirty versus thirty, if memory serves? A veritable carnival of chaos! But don’t worry, old chaps. There's nothing like a bit of organized mayhem to shake off a bad night, eh?
Rupert didn’t bother to respond. His mind was already working, plotting his next move. He stared into the depths of his drink, the whiskey offering no answers, only a bitter aftertaste that stung his freshly exposed gum hole. The Ronin Rumble had been announced live to an international audience. He couldn’t renege on it without looking weak. The only option now was to prepare his men and women to defend his company and ensure he had his best 30 booked for the rumble for night two of the two-night event.
Rupert Mudcock: (seething) Haruki Tanaka made a fool of me. He thinks this Ronin Rumble will be some grand spectacle where he can prove he has the better wrestlers and fighters, but I have news for him: we’ve got some of the best, and in a fair fight, it won’t be so easy to make Ultimate Wrestling look weak!
Zeagal finally turned to Rupert, his expression dark.
Devin Zeagal: What about Kenjiro? I want him in that ring. I’ll finish what he started.
Joey, still hovering nearby, couldn’t resist chiming in.
Joey Talladega: Ah, revenge! Sweet, sweet revenge. It’s like a fine wine—best served with a touch of class and a dash of brutality. Speaking of which... another drink, anyone?
Zeagal ignored Joey’s offer, his eyes locked onto Rupert.
Rupert Mudcock: Are you nuts? Kenjiro is a living legend! Your theatrical martial arts and Aikido are no match for him. He will destroy you, Zeagal, and ruin your public image! Don’t be a prideful fool! Stay out of the ring and stay at the commentator table where you belong.
Devin Zeagal: How dare you doubt me? How dare you doubt my craft? This isn’t just about pride, Rupert. I will teach that traitorous bastard a lesson he’ll never forget. I want him in that ring. I want to break him. He won’t even know his name when I'm done with him.
Rupert nodded slowly, his gaze shifting from his drink to the bar's dark corners. The weight of the night pressed down on him, but in that pressure, a new plan was beginning to form.
.
Rupert Mudcock: Fine… have it your way. Just know that if you lose, you are further embarrassing yourself, Ultimate Wrestling, and, by extension, ME! I don’t tolerate losers, Zeagal, so you’d better wipe the mat with him.
The dim, warm light of Suplex Sunrise flickered as the hours dragged into the early morning. Joey Talladega’s bar was a haven of secrets and spirits, and tonight was no exception. As the two wounded men before him grew more inebriated, Joey seemed to relish the opportunity to weave his charm, his amusement barely contained as he poured yet another round.
Devin Zeagal leaned in, his neck brace awkwardly forcing his movements as he tried to sip his drink. His face was twisted with anger and alcohol-fueled confidence.
Devin Zeagal: I’ve taken down armies on screen. I've fought legends, Rupert. Kenjiro’s nothing compared to the foes I’ve conquered.
He punctuated the statement by slamming his drink down on the bar, causing some of it to slosh onto his lap. Joey’s eyes gleamed with glee as he swooped in with a towel.
Joey Talladega: Oh, I know, Mr. Zeagal. I’ve seen all your films—every single one. From Kill or Be Killed to Streets of Rage. You, my good man, are one of the deadliest warriors alive. Kenjiro Tanaka’s arm would be in splinters if it weren't for that dirty ambush.
Zeagal’s eyes brightened at the praise, and he straightened as much as his brace would allow, pride swelling within him. Joey continued, leaning in closer, his tone almost conspiratorial.
Joey Talladega: let’s be honest—Kenjiro caught you off guard. It wasn’t a fair fight. But in the ring? With preparation? Pfft, no contest. You’d break him in half, no doubt about it. You're not a man I’d want to meet in a dark alley if you catch my drift.
Zeagal smirked, soaking in Joey’s words as though they were gospel. His bravado grew with each sip of whiskey, his voice rising in confidence.
Devin Zeagal: Damn right. A real fight, I’d take him down like all the others. A few quick moves, and he wouldn’t even know what hit him. Arm locked, shoulder dislocated, down for the count.
Joey clapped his hands, eyes twinkling as he poured Zeagal another drink. Rupert looked at himself and asked himself why he had hired Zeagal in the first place.
Joey Talladega: Now that’s the spirit! You’re an inspiration to us all, Mr. Zeagal. I bet even Haruki Tanaka’s quaking in his boots knowing his brother’s about to get dismantled by a martial arts legend like you.
Rupert slumped in his seat and glanced at Joey with narrowed eyes. He’d caught on to Joey’s exaggerated flattery, but the alcohol coursing through his system dulled his ability to react with his usual sharpness.
Rupert Mudcock: Zeagal, you're delusional if you think you'll come out of this unscathed. Kenjiro Isn't some stuntman or washed-up action star. He’s a real fighter. You try that nonsense in the ring, and he’ll send you out in a body bag.
Zeagal’s smug expression faltered slightly, but Joey jumped in, fanning the flames of Zeagal’s ego with an encouraging tone.
Joey Talladega: Oh, come now, Rupert! Have a little faith in the man. I mean, Zeagal, here’s practically the Pai Mei of Ultimate Wrestling. The man’s untouchable—unless, of course, it's by surprise, like tonight. And we all know that was a fluke.
Rupert rolled his eyes, but Zeagal grinned, his confidence returning as Joey refilled his glass. Rupert slammed his drink back and set the glass down with a thud.
Rupert Mudcock: (grumbling) This is all a distraction. Haruki Tanaka—that’s who we should be focused on. He humiliated me, and now I’m going to sue him for every yen he’s worth. I want him ruined. His career, his company, his life—I’ll strip it all away.
Zeagal frowned, glancing at Rupert. Despite his bravado, some of Rupert’s words started sinking in.
Devin Zeagal: What’s the plan, Rupert? We can’t just back down. We can’t let them walk away from this like they’ve won.
Rupert nodded, rubbing his temples in frustration.
Rupert Mudcock: No, we can’t. I’ll have to drop the charges against his roster. Otherwise, they won’t be able to compete… that bastard.
He paused, eyes narrowing as the realization hit him.
Rupert Mudcock: The Ronin Rumble, the challenge was all part of his scheme. He knew we’d have to drop the charges against his men. And you know what? The Yamamoto Yakuza will probably pay his bail so that he can show up and boast in front of the world.
Joey raised an eyebrow, leaning casually on the bar as he chimed in with his usual theatrical flair.
Joey Talladega: Ah, the Yakuza! Quite the... dedicated bunch, wouldn’t you say? Always there to lend a hand—so long as it serves their interests.
Rupert’s jaw tightened, his thoughts whirling as he tried to devise a new strategy. Zeagal, still high on Joey’s praise, was less concerned about the details.
Devin Zeagal: Let the Yakuza pay his bail. When the time comes, I’ll be waiting for Kenjiro; this time, it’ll be different.
Rupert slammed his fist on the bar, his voice filled with barely restrained fury.
Rupert Mudcock: Damn it, Zeagal, stop thinking with your ego! We need to be smart about this, or we’re done. Ultimate Wrestling is my empire, and I’m not letting Haruki Tanaka or his Yakuza cronies tear it down.
Joey, ever the entertainer, stepped back from the bar and gave a dramatic bow.
Joey Talladega: Well, gentlemen, you have quite the battle ahead. If I were you, Rupert, old boy, I’d start doing what you do best, using every dirty trick in the book. Don’t tell me you built a multi-billion dollar media empire by playing by rules!
Rupert Mudcock: That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night at Talladega. We can’t leave this to chance. We are going to have to do everything we can to ensure our boys come out on top and one of ours wins this damn rumble.
Joey winked, pouring fresh glasses for both men as they sat silently, each lost in their thoughts of revenge and survival. As the night deepened, the weight of the coming days pressed down on them. The Ronin Rumble loomed large, a test of pride, skill, and strategy that would decide the future of Ultimate Wrestling.
For now, though, as the drinks flowed and the haze of alcohol dulled their senses, they could pretend that victory was within reach. But even Joey Talladega, with his mischievous grin and playful banter, knew that the storm brewing above would not be so easily weathered.
Two Days Later
The Office of Rupert Mudcock
The office of Rupert Mudcock was as much a symbol of his power as the man himself. Heavy mahogany walls lined with expensive art, plush leather furniture, and the faint, lingering scent of cigar smoke gave it the feel of an emperor’s lair. But tonight, the space felt smaller, suffocating even, with Colton and Cassie Hurst lounging on his couch like they owned the place.
A bottle of Johnny Walker Black sat between them, half gone, the amber liquid sloshing lazily in their glasses. Cassie poured herself another drink with almost bored precision, her eyes flicking toward the door with a sigh. Colton checked his watch. Despite their casual demeanor, the tension in the room was thick.
Colton Hurst: (Gruffly) How long will we wait for this waste of air to show up? Unbelievably, we have to babysit him again. He was warned, wasn’t he? Maybe he fell asleep after Kami and Hara gave him that little pep talk.
He swiped through his phone, barely containing his frustration, while Cassie smirked, swirling the whiskey in her glass.
Cassie Hurst: (Disdainfully) Maybe he’s hoping we’ll get bored and leave. But we’ve got time, don’t we?
The sound of the door opening silenced them both. Rupert Mudcock rolled in, his face drawn tight with the pain of a swollen jaw, his once-pristine Personal Protection suit now a tattered remnant of its former glory. The fishbowl helmet, cracked and useless, sat on his desk, an emblem of his shattered invulnerability. His eyes locked onto the Hursts, annoyance flashing across his face.
Rupert Mudcock: (Snapping) How do you two keep getting in? I had the fucking locks changed after your little friends trashed my office!
Cassie didn’t even look up as she poured another glass and slid it to Colton. He stood a slow, deliberate movement and strolled over to Rupert, holding the glass out with a smirk.
Colton Hurst: (Coldly) Locks are for honest men, Rupert. We both know our family doesn’t fall into that category. Now drink up, old man. We’ve got business.
Rupert hesitated for a fraction of a second before snatching the glass and tossing the drink back, his expression sour. He rolled over to his desk, fingers twitching toward the button beneath it. But before he could move, Cassie was there, her grip firm on his arm, her smile icy.
Cassie Hurst: (Murmuring) Don’t even think about it. The alarm’s already been taken care of.
Colton grinned his voice a low growl as he stepped closer, looming over Rupert.
Colton Hurst: (Smiling) Seems like you’ve got a habit of ignoring good advice, Rupert. Kami and Hara gave you everything you needed to shut down that invasion, and you still let it happen. Because of your incompetence, we’re here cleaning up your mess.
Rupert's jaw clenched, but the pain of his injuries made any retort come out as a hiss through gritted teeth.
Rupert Mudcock: (Seething) It’s not like I ignored them, damn it! Don’t you think I increased security? How was I supposed to know he was sending an army? I did what I could.
Cassie moved to his desk, typing swiftly. Rupert’s eyes widened as she pulled up a file he recognized all too well.
Cassie Hurst: (Amused) Oh, come on. You knew, Rupert. Kami left you everything. Right here, remember? You just didn’t take them seriously. You thought it would just be a couple of Yakuza thugs trying to get in to do some damage. Kami told you he planned to invade, take over, and challenge Ultimate Wrestling, and that’s exactly what he did.
Rupert’s face flushed, his fingers gripping the armrests of his chair tightly. But before he could speak, Colton leaned in, his hand clamping down on Rupert’s shoulder in a way that made the older man flinch.
Colton Hurst: (Lowly) We’re taking control now. First, no one in your company will speak to us or our people unless we say so. That means no interviews, no questions. Second, your doctors? Useless. We’ve got our medics now. And lastly…
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Rupert’s ear.
Colton Hurst: (Menacing) From now on, any match involving us is under ‘New Breed Rules.’ No DQs. No limits. You stack the deck, and we’ll burn the house down. Got it?
Rupert’s eyes flickered with fear, but a smirk began to creep across his face, a last-ditch show of defiance.
Rupert Mudcock: (Smirking) You think I’m scared of you? You’re just like your parents. Well, let me tell you something: I’m just as ruthless as your parents, if not more. Do you think you can waltz in here, break my will, and take control of my company so easily?
Cassie’s eyes flashed with amusement, her lips curling into a sly smile.
Cassie Hurst: (Coolly) Oh, Rupert… don’t worry. We’re used to breaking things. Rules, bones—it’s all the same to us.
With that, the Hursts turned and strode out of the office, leaving Rupert to stare after them. His smirk slowly faded, replaced by a grim expression as the weight of their threat settled on his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his bruised jaw, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
The atmosphere inside the Tokyo Dome was unlike any other. A tense, electrified buzz filled the air as thousands of eyes fixed on the ring, their anticipation heightened by the fallout from All Asia Pro Wrestling's violent invasion just weeks prior. The dim lighting cast a foreboding shadow over the arena, but the enthusiasm of the essential workers and medical personnel in attendance pierced through the tension. Their chants echoed through the stadium like a war cry, signaling not just the start of the Ronin Rumble: Night 1 but a battle for pride, revenge, and survival.
In the backdrop of this storm of emotions, "Stranglehold" by Ted Nugent blasted through the sound system, its familiar riff building the excitement to a fever pitch. The rumble of bass vibrated through the Dome as the camera swept across the audience, capturing their cheers and the collective determination in their faces. Tonight wasn’t just about wrestling but proving who would stand tall in adversity.
The camera finally settled on the commentators' table, where Scott Slade, Holly Hudson, and the controversial Chris Rodgers sat, embodying the night's weight in their way. Devin Zeagal, a frequently present figure, was conspicuously absent—his injuries from the AAPW ambush left an empty seat at the table.
Scott Slade leaned forward, his voice brimming with intensity, his focus steely as he welcomed the fans.
Scott Slade: Good evening, wrestling fans, and welcome to the historic Ronin Rumble: Night 1! I’m Scott Slade, and with me tonight is the ever-insightful Holly Hudson and the voice that pulls no punches, Chris Rodgers. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s event isn’t just about winning—it’s about Ultimate Wrestling standing tall after the devastating AAPW attack. And let’s address the elephant in the room: Devin Zeagal isn’t with us tonight. After the brutal assault at the hands of our co-host, Kenjiro Tanaka, brother of Haruki Tanaka, President of AAPW, our colleague Devin is recovering from significant injuries. But you can bet he is gearing up for his match tomorrow night against Kenjiro.
As Slade’s words hung in the air, the gravity of the situation was clear. Devin Zeagal, the organization's unshakable voice since arriving in Japan, had been made vulnerable in a way no one could have imagined.
Holly Hudson: That’s right, Scott. Last week, we witnessed an all-out assault on Ultimate Wrestling and our boss Rupert Mudcock. Haruki Tanaka and his men crossed a line, but the war between AAPW and Ultimate Wrestling is far from over. While tonight’s matches are crucial, tomorrow will be where the true battle begins—when our rosters face off in the ultimate proving ground, the sixty man Ronin Rumble.
Her voice carried the seriousness of the moment. Holly, often calm and analytical, now spoke with a fire that reflected the tensions within Ultimate Wrestling. Every wrestler on tonight’s card knew that Night 2’s AAPW vs. Ultimate Wrestling battle was looming like a storm on the horizon, but that didn’t diminish the stakes tonight.
Ever the skeptic and provocateur, Chris Rodgers leaned in, his gravelly voice punctuating the solemnity with biting cynicism.
Chris Rodgers: You’re both right, but let me tell you something: Ultimate Wrestling can’t afford another mistake. AAPW fired a declaration of war, and we’re playing catch-up now. But tonight, I’ve got my eyes on a few key matches—especially that Pyongyang Punishers bout. Maki Nishimura... God bless her crazy little heart, but stepping into the ring alone against those two North Korean killers? That’s borderline suicidal. Her tag partner, Wolfie Ricky King, caught Blovid-13. And instead of backing out like any sane person, she’s walking into the lions’ den alone. I’m telling you, this won’t end well for her.
Scott Slade nodded, but the tension on his face suggested he shared Rodgers' concerns.
Scott Slade: You’re not wrong, Chris. The Juggernaut Jewel of Japan is one of our toughest competitors, but this match against the Pyongyang Punishers could be a death sentence without her partner. Those two are ruthless, and they’ll look to make an example of her.
Always eager to press a point, Chris Rodgers leaned forward with a smirk that grew as the crowd's reaction intensified.
Chris Rodgers: Exactly. What kind of lunatic takes on a tag team tournament match without a partner? Especially against guys like the Punishers? Let’s call it what it is—she’s walking into a massacre. This isn’t just guts; it’s borderline stupidity. We all know Blovid-13 has been wreaking havoc worldwide, but stepping in without her partner? That’s asking for a stretcher ride out of the dome tonight.
The bite in Rodgers' voice added weight to the already tense atmosphere. Holly Hudson, trying to temper the tension, interjected with admiration for Maki's resilience.
Holly Hudson: Maybe so, Chris, but let’s not underestimate Maki Nishimura. She’s the ‘Juggernaut Jewel of Japan’ for a reason. If anyone has the sheer willpower and skill to defy the odds, it’s her. She’s not just stepping in to fight for herself tonight; she’s fighting for the honor of Ultimate Wrestling and the future of her career. I wouldn’t write her off just yet.
The exchange hung in the air, contrasting Rodgers' cynical outlook and Holly's hopeful perspective. The camera cut to a wide shot of the Tokyo Dome, the massive crowd now chanting, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The stage was set, and the stakes had never felt higher.
Scott Slade, ever the professional, shifted the focus back to the broader picture of the evening, his voice brimming with excitement as he listed the rest of the night’s card.
Scott Slade: That’s just the beginning, folks. We’ve got an incredible lineup tonight that will set the tone for Night 2 of the Ronin Rumble. We’re talking about the best tag teams in the world, and it all starts with the Midnight Society taking on the always-dangerous Royal Alliance in our first tournament match of the evening.
Holly Hudson: And right after that, True Chaotic faces the Red Reapers in what promises to be a high-octane Handicap Match. Both sides have everything to prove tonight, and with the kind of chaos True Chaotic brings to the ring, you never know what might happen.
Chris Rodgers, unable to resist his usual jab, chuckled.
Chris Rodgers: It’s True Chaotic, alright—they’ve been unpredictable since day one. But here’s the kicker: they’re up against three brutes who won’t hesitate to tear them apart. Handicap matches rarely end pretty, and tonight’s not gonna be any different.
Scott Slade: And if that’s not enough, we’ve got a Young Blood Championship Match featuring Drake Nygma, who’s been on an absolute tear, defending his title against Jeffery James Roberts. Plus, the submission specialist bout where Oswald Knight challenges the reigning champion, Chuluun Bold.
Holly Hudson: Both those matches are guaranteed to deliver. Drake Nygma has shown time and time again why he’s the top dog in the Young Blood Division, but Roberts will be his biggest title defense yet. He’s been waiting for his shot; tonight could be his night. As for the Submission Specialist Championship, there’s nothing more brutal than watching two experts try to break each other in that ring.
Scott Slade: And finally, the main event: a Texas Tornado Barbed Wire Rope Deathmatch inside a Hell in the Cell. Sato, Salinas, Dresden, and Lightning Man versus The Emperor’s Avengers. These warriors are stepping into a no-holds-barred battle where elimination is the only way out. We’re talking about absolute carnage in that ring.
Chris Rodgers: That’s right, and let me tell you, these Emperor’s Avengers aren’t just your average opponents. They’ve got a mission, and they’re not walking away until every one of those Ultimate Wrestling stars is lying flat on their back in a pool of blood. Sato and his team are in for one hell of a fight.
Holly Hudson: I wonder if Sato and Salinas can work together after months of being at each other's throats. Can they put aside their differences tonight and escape this death trap of a wrestling match relatively unscathed and victorious?
Chris Rodgers: Ain’t no one come out a deathmatch on unscathed Holly. That’s why they call it a deathmatch.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, the music swelled, and the first match of the evening was ready to begin.
Miyu Kojima stood in the center of the ring, microphone in hand, as the crowd’s anticipation built. The camera zoomed in on her as the lights dimmed, and a spotlight highlighted her presence.
Miyu Kojima: The following contest is a Tag Team Tournament match scheduled for one fall!
The arena lights shifted to a deep red as the haunting opening of Nightwish's "Nemo" played over the PA system. Smoke filled the entrance ramp, and the silhouettes of the Midnight Society slowly emerged. Lexi and Wicked Kat strode confidently toward the ring, their dark attire and edgy personas captivating the Tokyo Dome crowd. The fans were excited as the two enigmatic women approached the ring.
Miyu Kojima: Introducing first, with a combined weight of 270 pounds, Lexi Zenon and Wicked Kat… the Midnight Society!
Lexi led the way, her face focused, while Wicked Kat followed close behind, her expression full of energy. They slid into the ring, throwing their arms into the air as the crowd offered a mixed reaction. They exchanged a look of determination, but their body language showed an awareness of the uphill battle ahead against their powerful opponents.
The crowd suddenly hushed as the entrance music for The Royal Alliance, "Cantata to Comrade Kim Jong Il," began to play. The aggressive beat chilled the arena as Tae-Hyun Lim, the Pyongyang Powerhouse, and Sir Lionel Montbar stepped onto the stage. Dressed in their striking outfits—Tae-Hyun in his North Korean-inspired uniform and Sir Lionel in his medieval-styled garb—they marched down the ramp, exuding authority and menace.
Miyu Kojima: And their opponents, with a combined weight of 500 pounds, representing The Royal Alliance… Tae-Hyun Lim, the Pyongyang Powerhouse, and Sir Lionel Montbar!
Boos rained down as The Royal Alliance methodically made their way to the ring, unfazed by the hostility. Tae-Hyun’s imposing figure led the charge, his eyes cold and fixed on the ring. With his chest puffed out, Sir Lionel walked in perfect rhythm behind him, his mind still entrenched in his delusions of grandeur. As they approached the ring, the tension in the Tokyo Dome rose, with fans sensing the danger this team brought.
The Royal Alliance stepped into the ring, and immediately, the energy shifted. Tae-Hyun stared down Lexi and Kat, cracking his neck as Sir Lionel raised his hands, signaling his "knightly honor." The Midnight Society stood their ground, but an unmistakable aura of danger emanated from The Royal Alliance.
Scott Slade: The Midnight Society may have the heart, but the Royal Alliance has a clear size and power advantage.
Holly Hudson: Absolutely, Scott. Lexi and Kat are known for their resilience, but I can’t help but feel that they’re walking into a buzzsaw here. Tae-Hyun Lim is an absolute powerhouse, and Sir Lionel? He’s no slouch when it comes to technical prowess.
Chris Rodgers: Let’s be real here, Holly. This is like watching two lambs being led to the slaughter. Lexi and Kat are tough, but they’re not ready for what will happen. Lim and Montbar are practically untouchable.
Scott Slade: Don’t count them out just yet, Chris. The Midnight Society has surprised us before.
The bell rang, and Lexi stepped forward for the Midnight Society, her stance low and quick, eyes locked on Tae-Hyun Lim. Lim barely moved, his towering frame exuding calm menace as he stared her down. Lexi dashed forward, delivering a barrage of quick strikes to Lim’s midsection—punches, kicks, anything she could muster—but Lim barely flinched. The crowd watched in shock as Lim stood unphased, a cold smirk spreading across his face as if the strikes were a light breeze.
Scott Slade: Lexi’s trying to wear him down, but it’s like she’s hitting a brick wall!
Holly Hudson: Look at Lim, Scott. It’s as if he’s inviting the attack, not even remotely concerned.
Chris Rodgers: He doesn’t have to be concerned, Holly. Lexi’s throwing everything she has, and it’s doing nothing! She’s outclassed in every sense of the word. Lim is just way too big for her!
Lexi, undeterred, took a step back and launched herself into a flying knee aimed directly at Lim’s face. She connected with full force, but instead of the expected reaction, Lim barely staggered. Lexi, on the other hand, crumpled to the mat from the impact, clutching her knee in surprise. Lim glanced down at her, almost amused, before letting out a low chuckle.
Chris Rodgers: Did you see that? She bounced right off him like a rubber ball!
Scott Slade: I don’t think Lexi expected that at all. This is not looking good for the Midnight Society.
Before Lexi could fully recover, Lim grabbed her by the throat with one hand, hoisting her into the air effortlessly. The crowd gasped as Lim paraded her around the ring for a moment before slamming her down hard with a thunderous Supreme Leader Slam (Chokeslam). Lexi hit the mat with a sickening thud, her body rattling from the sheer power of the move. Lim stood over her, arms crossed, as if daring her to get up.
Holly Hudson: That was brutal! Lim’s not breaking a sweat, and Lexi’s already in serious trouble.
Scott Slade: The power of Lim is unbelievable. He’s barely even started, and Lexi’s already looking for a way out.
Chris Rodgers: If the Royal Alliance can put away the Midnight Society early here, it will greatly increase the Emperor's Avengers' chances against Sato, Salinas, Dresden, and Lightning Man in the main event.
Scott Slade: Good point, Chris. We forgot to mention that Lim, Moon, and Hwang all have to fight tonight in the tag team tournament and the Death Match later tonight.
Gasping for breath, Lexi began to crawl toward her corner, where Wicked Kat had her hand outstretched. But just as she reached for the tag, Lim grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back into the center of the ring, refusing to let her escape. He tagged in Sir Lionel Montbar, who stepped through the ropes with a gallant air as though he were stepping onto a battlefield from a medieval tale.
Chris Rodgers: Oh great, now we’ve got the ‘knight in shining armor’ to clean up what’s left of Lexi.
Holly Hudson: Don’t underestimate Lionel. His technical skills are top-notch, and he’s got the power to back it up.
Montbar immediately went to work, picking Lexi up and hitting her with a series of precise, bone-rattling German Suplexes, one after another, showcasing his technical skill. Each suplex was executed with brutal efficiency, and Lexi’s body bounced off the mat like a ragdoll.
Wicked Kat, sensing the dire situation, sprang into action. She climbed the top rope, launching herself toward Montbar with a Springboard Wicked Flight (springboard moonsault). She soared through the air, the crowd roaring in anticipation. Kat landed squarely on Montbar’s chest, but instead of taking him down, she merely bounced off him like a rubber ball. Montbar stood firm, barely moving, while Kat hit the mat hard, clutching her ribs in disbelief.
Scott Slade: Kat’s high-flying offense didn’t even make him flinch! The Royal Alliance is like a pair of stone giants!
Chris Rodgers: What did I say? These two are completely outmatched. Montbar’s just toying with them now.
Montbar turned his attention to Kat, lifting her easily and tossing her into the ropes. As she rebounded, Montbar caught her midair with a devastating Samoan Drop, driving the wind out of her lungs. He stood up, dusting himself off as if the attack had annoyed him.
Holly Hudson: This is looking worse and worse for the Midnight Society. They can’t seem to gain any ground against these two.
Watching from the apron, Tae-Hyun pointed toward Lexi, signaling it was time to finish this charade. Montbar nodded and dragged the battered Lexi to her feet. He tagged Lim back in, who wasted no time grabbing Lexi and locking her into the Hermit Kingdom Hold (arm-trap triangle choke). Lexi flailed desperately, but Lim’s iron grip was unbreakable.
Wicked Kat, still recovering from the earlier attack, tried to get to her feet, but Montbar was already on her, grabbing her by the hair and tossing her out of the ring like a ragdoll.
The Royal Alliance stood tall, dominating the ring, with Tae-Hyun tightening his grip on Lexi, ready to snap her will just as easily as he’d overpowered her physically.
Tae-Hyun Lim continued to apply pressure, tightening his Hermit Kingdom Hold as Lexi's struggles weakened. The crowd began to chant, urging her on, but it was clear that she was fading fast. Tae-Hyun’s cold eyes scanned the arena, unbothered by the support for his opponent.
Scott Slade: Lexi’s in real trouble here. Lim has that choke locked in, and I don’t see how she’s going to escape.
Chris Rodgers: I hate to say it, but this is starting to look more like a public execution than a wrestling match.
Suddenly, Wicked Kat reappeared, sliding under the bottom rope. With a desperate burst of speed, she delivered a running dropkick to Lim’s head, forcing him to break the hold. The crowd roared as Lim stumbled backward, momentarily dazed, while Lexi collapsed on the mat, gasping for air.
Holly Hudson: Kat just saved Lexi from a certain defeat! That might buy them some time!
Chris Rodgers: Yeah, but for how long? It’s like delaying the inevitable. The Midnight Society is still in deep water.
Kat, clearly running on adrenaline, helped Lexi to her feet. They exchanged a glance—no words, just mutual understanding. Lexi, still dazed, managed to make her way to the corner as Kat stepped forward, ready to face the beast that was Tae-Hyun Lim. With Lexi out of immediate danger, Kat focused all her energy on taking down the towering figure before her.
Kat darted toward Lim, using her speed to her advantage as she delivered a flurry of quick forearm strikes to his head and chest. Lim staggered but remained on his feet, his expression slowly morphing into amusement. Kat’s eyes widened in frustration, realizing her strikes weren’t enough to bring him down.
Scott Slade: Kat’s doing everything she can, but Tae-Hyun Lim is too powerful! Those strikes are barely affecting him!
Chris Rodgers: "It’s like hitting a brick wall! Lim’s not even breaking a sweat."
Kat backed up and attempted one more high-risk move. She hit the ropes and launched herself into the air with a flying crossbody, aiming directly at Lim. The crowd held their breath, but Lim easily caught her in midair in a chilling display of strength. The audience gasped as Lim stood there, holding Kat in his arms like she weighed nothing.
Holly Hudson: Oh no… Kat’s in trouble now!
With a sadistic grin, Lim hoisted Kat over his shoulder and drove her onto the mat with a vicious Kim Dynasty Driver (Michinoku Driver). Kat’s body bounced off the canvas, and she lay motionless as Lim stood over her, arms raised in triumph.
Scott Slade: That might have broken her in half! Kat is in serious pain, and Lim looks like he’s just getting started!
Lim didn’t go for the pin. Instead, he dragged Kat to her feet and threw her back into her corner, almost as if he dared Lexi to tag back in. Still recovering from the earlier punishment, Lexi hesitated momentarily, but with the crowd behind her, she reluctantly extended her hand, tagging herself back into the match. Lexi stormed into the ring, fueled by desperation and adrenaline. She sprinted toward Lim and leaped into the air, connecting with a flying superkick to the side of his head. The impact staggered Lim, causing him to stumble, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he laughed—a deep, mocking sound echoed through the arena.
Chris Rodgers: He’s laughing! The Pyongyang Powerhouse is laughing in her face!
Lexi, undeterred, tried again, this time hitting a rolling knee bar, locking onto Lim’s leg in an attempt to take out his base. She twisted his knee with all her might, but Lim’s sheer size and strength made it difficult for her to lock it in fully.
Holly Hudson: Lexi’s trying to work on Lim’s leg! This might be her best shot at bringing him down!
But Lim, with surprising agility for his size, reached down and grabbed Lexi by the back of her head, yanking her off his leg with brute force. He threw her across the ring like she weighed nothing, her body slamming into the turnbuckle with a loud crash.
Scott Slade: Lexi is getting tossed around like a ragdoll! How much more can she take?
As Lexi slumped in the corner, Sir Lionel Montbar demanded the tag. Lim nodded and slapped Montbar’s outstretched hand, allowing him to re-enter the ring. Sir Lionel strutted toward the fallen Lexi, raising his hands to the crowd as if basking in his imaginary knighthood. Montbar grabbed Lexi by the hair, dragging her to her feet. He positioned her for another suplex, but this time, instead of a German Suplex, he went for his signature Snap Suplex, snapping her body down to the mat with a brutal, fluid motion. Lexi arched her back in agony as Montbar stood over her, smirking.
Sir Lionel Montbar stood tall, admiring his handiwork as Lexi writhed on the mat in pain. The crowd, sensing the end was near, began to quiet down, their earlier excitement giving way to the grim realization that the Midnight Society was on the verge of defeat. Montbar glanced over at Tae-Hyun Lim, who nodded approvingly. It was time to finish what they had started.
Montbar dragged Lexi to her feet again, pulling her into position for his finishing move. With a cruel grin, he hooked her head under his arm and swiftly lifted her into the air, driving her face-first into the mat with The Final Crusade (Flatliner). Lexi’s body crumpled on impact, completely motionless as Montbar stood over her, triumphant.
Scott Slade: The Final Crusade! That’s it! Lexi is done!
Chris Rodgers: They didn’t stand a chance, Slade. The Royal Alliance has dominated from start to finish.
Wicked Kat, still struggling to recover outside, tried to pull herself up using the ring apron, but Tae-Hyun Lim was already there. He grabbed Kat by the back of her head and smashed her face into the steel ring post, leaving her dazed and slumped on the outside. Montbar, satisfied that there would be no more interference, casually rolled Lexi onto her back and placed one boot on her chest for the pin. The referee dropped to the mat, and the count began.
One...
Two...
Three!
Miyu Kojima: Here are your winners, advancing to the third round… Tae-Hyun Lim and Sir Lionel Montbar, The Royal Alliance!
The referee raised Montbar’s arm in victory as Tae-Hyun Lim stepped back into the ring, standing alongside his partner. The crowd responded with a mixture of boos and silence, fully aware that the Midnight Society had never stood a chance against the sheer power and brutality of The Royal Alliance.
Holly Hudson: It’s over. The Royal Alliance advances, and they did it dominantly.
Chris Rodgers: I told you from the start, Holly. There was no way Lexi and Kat were going to survive this. The Royal Alliance is a force to be reckoned with, and after this, I’m not sure anyone else in this tournament stands a chance.
Scott Slade: I have to agree, Chris. Tae-Hyun Lim and Sir Lionel Montbar look unstoppable right now. Whoever they face next better be ready for a fight.
The Royal Alliance stood in the center of the ring, basking in their victory as Lexi lay motionless on the mat and Wicked Kat struggled to regain her senses outside. The message was clear: The Royal Alliance was a force to be feared, and they rapidly moved forward in the tournament. As Lim and Montbar exited the ring and made their way up the ramp, the Tokyo Dome had a lasting impression of their dominance. The Midnight Society had been dismantled, and The Royal Alliance had sent a message to the entire roster: no one was safe from their wrath.
To Be Continued In Part - 2