Vertigo (09.15.18)

[FGA Office]

Vertigo returns from commercial break again to find some of The New Murder standing backstage. Dom, Annie, and Fenrys are all standing together and they don’t look best pleased with what’s transpired on the show before now.

Dom Harter: All that, and they still win?!

He shouts defiantly, presumably referring to Pendragon’s victory over Bristow & Barnes a few minutes ago. The Tenacious Little Bastard is gesticulating wildly as he speaks.

Dom Harter: And Bristow & Barnes were supposed to be one of the ‘top’ teams on Vertigo! They were supposed to be contenders for these--

Dom slaps the US Tag Team Championship belt that’s resting on his shoulder as Annie, almost on instinct, pats the belt around her waist.

Fenrys: Bu--

Dom Harter: --our US Tag Team titles!

Fenrys can’t believe he got cut off again, staring in disbelief as Annie speaks up.

Annie Zellor: Look, they got lucky tonight. That’s all. And maybe Bristow & Barnes aren’t as good as Brandon Macdonald thought they were. But, like, there’s a reason why we’re the champs and not them! And why we’ve been, like, the foundation of tag team wrestling here since the beginning.

The words do little to calm Dom’s nerves, though.

Fenrys: Ho--

Annie Zellor: ‘Cause they’re not in our league. Shootcamp, RIP, Maritza & Pedro, Firing Squad…where are they? Silk & Cyanide, Super Mario Wrestling Bros. They’re dreaming if they think they’ll ever - EVER - be as good as us. And Pendragon? Uh, they’re never gonna be champs again...amirite, Fenrys?

But the masked man doesn’t even bother answering this time; he just stares at Annie and nods, knowing full well he’s just going to get cut off as soon as he starts to speak.

Dom Harter: You’re right…

Annie Zellor: Well, duh.

Dom Harter: Don’t get too cocky. But, look, we’ve got to go check on Jae before her match. Make sure she’s ready for this one.

Annie Zellor: Okey dokey. You go do that, I’ll go grab us a drink or something, and meet you there in a sec.

With that, Dom leans down to give Annie a quick kiss before he and an uncomfortable looking Fenrys walk away towards The New Murder locker room. The cameraman, however, stays focused on Annie as she turns in the opposite direction. The self proclaimed US Tag Team Champion brushes some hair back behind her ears as she walks, smiling to herself as she goes. It seems like the cameraman is about to lose track of her when she turns a corner…

But Annie Zellor comes flying back into shot! The Tenacious Li’l Bitch covering up as she hits the wall, before the figures of Lowri Moss and Neal Durden pounce on her. The members of Pendragon are raining down blows, rights and lefts, before Lowri finally grabs Annie by the hair.

Lowri Moss: Payback, bitch!

She says as they take Annie further down the corridor, and throw her face first into the mesh wire fence that’s sectioning off some electronic equipment!

Lowri Moss: This is what you get for stealing one championship from us, and then trying to take another one away from us!

Zellor staggers away, clutching her face in pain as Neal grabs her by the collar and waistband, and throws her into a nearby equipment crate! Annie falls to the floor as Pendragon put the boots to her, stomping a mudhole in the self proclaimed champion as she tries to cover up.

Finally, after more than a few moments of stomping, Neal finds a steel chair just propped up against a wall. With a smile on his face he hands the chair to Lowri; the pair are standing over Annie, who’s now on all fours and trying to crawl away…

Until Lowri brings the chair down across her back! The first shot forces Annie down to the floor again, as she rolls onto her back. She’s crying out in pain, cursing Lowi’s name as the second chair shot connects. The edge of the chair being rammed into the ribcage of Annie Zellor, driving the wind out of her lungs! Again, Zellor rolls over as Lowri throws the chair away. She stands with a foot either side of Annie as she reaches down and undoes the title belt that’s still around Annie’s waist.

Lowri Moss: I think you’ll find that belongs to us…

She says as Lowri holds up one of the FGA United States Tag Team title belts. The Pendragon members smile at each other, but are quickly forced to retreat a step as they sense the storm coming towards them. Sure enough The Tenacious Little Bastard reappears with a baseball bat in hand. He points the bat towards Lowri and the title belt in her hand as he yells.

Dom Harter: Give that back! It doesn’t belong to you!

But the Pendragon members stand tall, keeping their distance, as Lowri hands the belt to Neal, who places it over his shoulder. Both Lowri and Neal are staring Dom down as Annie is still down on the floor between them. She’s holding her ribs in pain, but Pendragon don’t care.

Lowri Moss: You want it? Try winning it fairly.

Dom Harter: We already did!

Lowri Moss: We’re the champions, Dom! Me and Neal! We beat The Keisters, The Good Guys, and RIP, all so we could become the first ever United States Tag Team Champions.

Neal Durden: And just because you two feel you’re the incarnation of tag team wrestling here in FGA, doesn’t change that fact. The record books will always say Pendragon, no matter how much you try and change them. And having that belt--

He points to the other tag title, which is now wrapped around Dom’s waist.

Neal Durden: --doesn’t make you a champion.

Lowri Moss: But if you want them, come and get them. Capital Combat. We’ll bring this belt, you bring that belt, and we’ll hang them twenty feet above the ring … in a ladder match!

Lowri watches the color fade from Dom’s face at the mention of ladders, smirking to herself as she issues the challenge.

Lowri Moss: What do you say?

Annie Zellor: You’re on!

Zellor exclaims as she forces herself back to her feet. Still clutching her ribs in pain, with an irate look on her face. Annie brushes more hair from in front of her face, her chest heaving as she speaks.

Annie Zellor: We’ll see you in Washington.

With that, Annie and Dom walk away in the direction from which they came. Leaving Lowri and Neal behind with one of the tag titles. They’re still smirking as they watch their rivals retreat, standing tall as they glance towards each other. They know they’ll have a fight on their hands at Capital Combat, but it’ll be worth it if it means they get both of their belts back.

[FGA Office]

HEADLINE
• Singles Match •
Jaelynn Ramsey vs. Izzy Anders

The match starts with Anders trying to go after the arm of Ramsey. But The New Murder member fights off The Mindkiller with right hands to the face. An irish whip then sends Anders into the far ropes. When Anders returns, she sees Ramsey setting up for a back body drop. So she stops and hoists Ramsey up onto her shoulders. Anders runs across the ring with hopes of delivering a Running Liger Bomb. But Ramsey counters With A Twist (hurricanrana), sending Anders through the ropes and to the floor! While Anders picks herself up on the outside, Ramsey heads into the far ropes. When she returns, she runs across the ring and leaps through the ropes for the Jaegerbomb (suicide dive). But Anders counters with a European Uppercut!! She brings the match back inside and makes the cover,but Ramsey gets her shoulder up.

An irish whip sends Ramsey into the far corner. The Mindkiller charges across the ring before rocking Ramsey with a running European Uppercut. After Ramsey crumbles from out of the corner, Anders drops down and makes the cover. But Ramsey gets her foot on the bottom rope at two. Anders pulls up Ramsey and pulls her into a standing headscissors. She’s about to go for another Running Liger Bomb attempt when Ramsey counters with a standing double leg takedown. She then switches positions with Anders before hooking the leans and catapulting her face-first into the turnbuckle! As Anders stumbles back, Ramsey follows up with a superkick to the back of the head for a two count. Ramsey then delivers a series of knife edge chops before sending Anders off into the far ropes. When Anders returns, Ramsey knocks her down with a running palm strike to the face for another two count. After doubling Anders over with a knee to the midsection, Ramsey takes off into the ropes. When she returns, she throws out a scissors kick. But Anders slips out of the way before bringing Ramsey down from behind with a Fujiwara Armbar! Anders cranks away on the arm while Ramsey howls in the pain. The ref gets down and asks Ramsey if she wants to give up. But The New Murder member refusing. Ramsey’s able to pull herself towards the side of the ring before reaching out and getting her right foot on the bottom rope, forcing a rope break. Anders reluctantly lets go soon after. As The Mindkiller pulls Ramsey up off the mat, Ramsey catches her with a throat thrust. She then brings Anders down with a facebuster for another two count.

As the match continues, Ramsey throws out a short-arm clothesline. But Anders ducks, grabs her from behind and knocks her down with the Black Song (Hammerlock Lariat)! She then picks up Ramsey, lifts her up across her shoulder and runs into the corner for a Lawn Dart. But at the last second, Ramsey slips down from behind and shoves Anders into the corner. As Anders stumbles back, Ramsey runs into the ropes, comes back and knocks her down with a crooked arm lariat! She makes the cover. ONE! TWO! Anders gets her shoulder up. Ramsey pulls her up by the wrist, only to knock her back down with a short-arm clothesline! She makes the cover. ONE! TWO! Anders gets her shoulder up. Ramsey takes Anders and moves her into the corner. After multiple shoulder thrusts, Ramsey pulls Anders from out of the corner before knocking her down with a scissors kick! She pulls Anders over and makes the cover. ONE! TWO! Anders gets her shoulder up.

In the seventh minute, Ramsey knocks down Anders with another superkick. This time, to the face. While Anders is sprawled out on the mat, Ramsey heads into the corner, scales to the top turnbuckle and flips back for Down By The Jae (Moonsault). But Anders gets her knees up! As Ramsey turns over and gets up on a knee, Anders races over and flattens her with a Shining Yakuza Kick! She makes the cover. ONE! TWO! T-NO! Ramsey gets her shoulder up. Ramsey is then sent back into the ropes with an irish whip. When she returns, Anders lifts her up across her shoulders before bringing her down with a fireman’s carry neckbreaker! The Mindkiller then pulls Ramsey over onto her knees before rocking her with an Axe Kick! She then pulls Ramsey up into a standing headscissors before lifting her up onto her shoulder and bringing her down with a Running Liger Bomb! The ref slides into place to make the count. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! Ramsey gets her shoulder up. Anders pulls Ramsey up off the mat. She goes to lift her up for the Aniplex (cutthroat brainbuster) when Ramsey knees her in the head on the way up. After Ramsey knocks Anders through the ropes and to the outside with a superkick, The New Murder member runs into the far ropes, comes back, leaps through the ropes and takes out Anders with the Jaegerbomb! She brings the action back inside and makes the cover. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! Anders gets her shoulder up. Ramsey then throws out a fourth superkick. This time, Anders swats the foot way from her before following up with a roundhouse kick across the back of the head! While Ramsey is dazed, Anders hooks her arms from behind before delivering a release Dragon Suplex that leaves her folded up on the mat! The Mindkiller pulls Ramsey up off the mat, hooks one arm around the back of Ramsey’s neck, hooks Ramsey’s leg with the other arm, lifts her up and plants her with the Shotgun Party II (Ki Krusher)! The ref slides into place for the count. ONE! TWO! THREE!

Jaelynn Ramsey X || Shotgun Party II (12:16) || Izzy Anders O

• COMMERCIAL BREAK •

[FGA Office]

[FGA Office]

"If you take a life, do you know what you'll give...
Odds are, you won't like what it is...
When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me...
By the merciless eyes I've deceived...
I've seen angels fall from blinding heights...
But you yourself are nothing so divine...
Just next in line..."

The house lights dim in the Royal Farms Arena, and New Murder-colored lights soon flicker throughout the filled-to-the-brim facility. The crowd jumps to its feet, blowing the roof off as Chris Bond makes his way out from behind the curtains. As he emerges from behind the curtain dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a New Murder tee, there is a large burst of resentment from the crowd. Even more oddly, a few of them continue to cheer for their once beloved hero.

With a spotlight lighting his way, Bond, accompanied by the villainess Crimson Baroness, makes his way down the aisle and towards the ring, even slapping away a few hands along the way. Soon enough he jogs up the stairs, and walks along the ring apron before wiping his feet. More boos reign down upon him as he stops and sneers at the crowd. Bond points to his “New Murder” t-shirt and smirks, before brushing off the jeers from the crowd. He presses his leg between the bottom and middle rope to make room for his wife and valet, The Crimson Baroness, to enter the ring. Upon her entrance into the ring, the crowd erupts into another chorus of booing! Bond shouts a few words of profanity before he too steps into the squared circle.

The self-proclaimed legend of the wrestling world walks to the center of the ring and stands there for a moment, as flashes go off throughout the waves of fans. The Baroness joins him, using her hands to emphasize his presence. Bond stands in the center, looking out and inspecting the crowd. As his music dies down, the Baroness hands him a microphone.

Chris Bond: I’m not out here tonight to blow smoke up any of your asses. Tonight, I’m here to be honest. I feel like I can say that because in my career, I’ve always tried to be nothing but honest with you guys… no matter the cheers or the jeers.

The crowd murmurs to itself, unsure of what to do exactly. The Baroness rubs her husband’s shoulder quickly and tells him “You’re always honest with them, sweetie,” before he continues on.

Chris Bond: This year marks twenty years that I’ve been in this business. I started wrestling professionally when I was twenty-two years old. Twenty-two! Can you guys imagine what it’s like to give so much of your life, your body, your mind… your heart to something for so long? This business has been the greatest blessing to me… and the biggest curse.

Chris Bond: You see, I’ve given my everything to this sport over the last two decades. It’s taken me away from my child; it’s taken me away from my loved ones. I’ve lost two fiancees and my son’s mother all to this business. It’s not all glory and glamour. We bleed for this business. We break for this business. Hell, we even die for this business.

Bond lowers the mic and looks up for a moment, reflecting on those friends he’s lost. Again, the Baltimore crowd finds itself unsure of what to do… so it sits and quietly listens.

Chris Bond: The strongest among us find these breaks, these cuts, these emotional wounds as fodder to continue trugging along in our own lives. This business isn’t for the weak or feeble minded. You see, the best of us don’t need characters… be we are our characters. We live, we breathe, we are, for the most part, who you all see each and every time you turn on your television sets. I really am this guy who can’t quit this business. I really am this @$$h*le you all see each and every Vertigo. But Malcolm Drake? The man you all cheer as some kind of savior of the masses… he’s nothing more than a fraud and a phony. The man who claims he can walk away at anytime… he’s just a bound to this game as I am.

Now the crowd finds itself in familiar territory; it soon starts booing at the words coming from the Battle Hardened Vet’s mouth. Bond just shakes his head is disbelief.

Chris Bond: You clowns are either too stupid to believe what I’m telling you or just too naive too understand. Malcolm Drake is a liar. Malcolm Drake isn’t this mysterious man, built from myth and legend. He’s a politicking little weasel who will chew up any person who benefits him and then spits them out when their usefulness is gone. He’s a real piece of sh*t, and you people are eating the lies right out of his hands.

The crowd boo’s him loudly. So much so that the smart marks in the audience are laughing and the people around them are getting mad at them, too.

Chris Bond: What, you think I’m lying to you now? Ask any man, woman, or Fenrys on the roster. He’s garbage to work with. Dom Harter didn’t break up the Murder. Malcolm Drake did. When Drake’s attitude backstage got him into hot water, it was him who took his ball and went home. He didn’t get fired or suspended. He got mad. He threw a temper tantrum and walked out!

Bond shouts out into the crowd, who continue to boo and jeer him loudly. The Baroness finds herself in disbelief.

Chris Bond: Malcolm Drake, this scared, jealous little infant that you all have perched on this pedestal went home because he wasn’t getting the main event slot. He wasn’t headlining those marquee matches. The boys in the back who put in so much work for each and every one of you… Chandler Scott, who’s work ethic is so great even I want to gag sometimes… he was the one who was getting all of the backstage praise. Not Drake and his mic-work. Drake’s bitterness and jealousy got the best of him and he went home. That’s why the Murder broke up. Malcolm Drake is a little punk-bitch who would sell each and everyone of you personally if it were to his benefit. He isn’t your hero. He isn’t your savior or your own personal Jesus. He’s nothing more than a con-man! And you all bought into his lies.

Bond shakes his head. The Baroness shames them all, which causes even the most humble in the crowd to become annoyed with her antics and her attitude.

Chris Bond: You can all boo me. You guys can hate me for telling you all what you didn’t want to hear. But you all know my name. You know that I have given so much of myself to this business. You all know that my body is littered with scars and healed bones from the battles in and out of this ring. I am no saint. But you can all sure as shit believe that I am telling you all the truth here and now. Malcolm Drake is not your friend, he is not someone to believe in. He will throw you all away when you no longer feed into his narrative. This company is littered with those who were chewed up and spit out by Malcolm Drake.

Bond lowers his head for a moment, before continuing on.

Chris Bond: In two weeks time, I step into the ring with the pretender that is Drake, and we meet for our second time this year. I’ve just been given word that our match won’t be your average run of the mill, one-fall contest. No. Because what went down at Glory Road warrants something bigger than mediocre. Isn’t that right, Malcolm? You had something to do with this… because I know how your mind works. Chris Bond versus Malcolm Drake in a grudge match, it would get lost to the history books. It’s why you fought so hard for a dog-collar match. It’s why you fought so hard for this, isn’t it? You accuse me of clinging to my accolades so I won’t be forgotten in time… but you, you scared little child, are just as scared of losing your legacy. Is that why we’re competing in an Iron Man Match, Malcolm?

The crowd erupts with the announcement that at Capital Combat, Malcolm Drake will take on Chris Bond in an Iron Man Match.

Chris Bond: Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m going to love having the opportunity to beat you on multiple occasions. I’ve dreamt of this opportunity for months now. Ever since the two of us stood across the ring from one another, and tried with all of our might to choke the very life out of each other… it’s been on my mind. We settled nothing at Glory Road. At Capital Combat, one of has the opportunity to end this. One of us will walk out the superior. One of us will walk out defeated; wrong about everything that has been said so far. I am going to beat you Malcolm. Because in the end, how fair would life be if people like you, people who use people, people who play politics with not only their own career, but others as well… how fair would life be if people like you actually succeeded while those of us who work hard, who bleed and break for their lives failed to amount to a win… where is the justice in that? I’m going to beat you Malcolm, if for no other reason than you are a terrible person, both in and outside of this ring, who I used to revere as an icon of this company; a pillar who helped put us on the map. But now, Malcolm? Now, you’re just a piece of garbage.

The erupts into a weird chorus of boos and cheers, one where even the Baroness finds herself uncomfortable and not sure of what to do. Bond drops the mic and goes to turn away, but…

“Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains starts up over the sound system and the crowd - Drake fans, Bond fans - all go wild. The roar, less a concentrated chorus of cheers or booes and more of a wall of sound, rattles the arena as Malcolm Drake steps out from the back. Drake looks somehow different. His fair and beard are still a scraggly mess, but his clothes seems cleaner; jeans unripped and a blue T-shirt with no adornments even offers a pop of color to reflect into his pale grey eyes. He saunters out into the center of the entranceway and just sits down, knees tucked up to his haunches and arms extended over the tops of those knees. He stares down at Bond and the Baroness, then takes an appraising look around at the crowd before speaking.

Malcolm Drake: Wow. It only took twenty years, but someone finally made an honest man out of you, Chris. I guess… you’re welcome?

Drake’s normal sing-song cadence is replaced with an arrogant sarcasm. He allows himself a little smirk as he observes the glowering looks from Bond and the Baroness.

Malcolm Drake: Oh, sorry. Am I... am I stealing your spotlight again? Gosh, I must’ve just politicked my way out here; weaseled this microphone away from some backstage stooge. Or maybe - just maybe - the truth is a little different. Maybe the truth is that Malcolm Drake is the f*cking draw here. Maybe the truth is that while Chris Bond can deliver a decent promo, Malcolm Drake is unparalleled on the stick. Maybe the “powers that be” want to make some damn money, so they sent the STAR out here.

A restless rumble ripples through the crowd, even the more casual fans noticing the marked difference between what’s happening and what they’re used to from Drake. In the ring, TCB is whispering something into Bond’s ear. Bond is seething.

Malcolm Drake: Maybe the truth is that after twenty years, you’re still just a footnote. You’re an “also-ran.” Maybe you’re just a bitter old man that can’t hold on to his spot, and the one who is throwing tantrums is the “company man” who “never gets his due.” Maybe the fact is that all your broken bones, all your broken relationships, all your broken promises don’t. f*cking. matter. Because I can sit here, shoot from the hip, and blow your entire, pitiful career away with a clip of words.

Drake makes a finger gun with his right hand and “shoots” it at Bond in the ring.

Malcolm Drake: I’ll give you this, Chris… everything you said, it ain’t wrong. But while you can puff up your chest and hide behind - what is she? - your NINTH fiancee?

There is an audible “Ooooooooh” from the audience, that has largely sat in rapt silence thus far.

Malcolm Drake: While you stand there running me down - airing the dirty laundry - maybe there’s some other things we should talk about. Like how without me, Chris Bond would be irrelevant. Like how YOU were the one begging, pleading, and politicking to get a piece of me. Let’s talk about Chris Bond, the parasite that clings to his delusions of immortality by marrying younger and leaching off the limelight of new blood like the New Murder. Nah, nah that’s too easy. I know what we should talk about.

Chris Bond: Let’s talk about how you’ve broken your body for every place you’ve worked; you’ve busted your ass and kissed all the right ones along the way; you put the right guys over and “did right by the business” and - guess what? - STILL no one gives a sh*t about you. That’s why I can waltz out here and steal your spotlight, Chris, because NO ONE wants to see you standing in it. You’re a broken down, old relic from an era that only incels are nostalgic for. You want an Iron Man Match? Fine. When I beat you 100-to-nothing, maybe then you can finally fade into the obscurity that you deserve.

There are a smattering of “Bond” chants that fill the pregnant silence that hangs in the air. Drake gets to his feet, brushing himself off, and takes one last look at the ring.

Malcolm Drake: Memento mori… and f*ck you.

Drake absently flips the microphone and turns back before it even hits the ground, storming off into the backstage area.

[FGA Office]

[FGA Office]

MAIN EVENT
• Singles Match •
Jimmy Page vs. Marlon Cure

The match starts with Cure knocking Page back with a yakuza kick. While Page tries to shake off the blow, Cure turns and runs into the ropes. When King Cure returns, Page throws out the Concussion (Rolling Elbow). But Cure ducks and continues to run the ropes. When Page turns around, Cure knocks him back again. This time, with a flying forearm bash. While Page is rocked, Cure turns and runs into the ropes. When the Mid-Atlantic Legacy Champion returns, Page flattens him with a running big boot. The King of the F’n World picks up Cure, runs into the corner and slams him face-first into the top turnbuckle. After turning Cure around, Page lights up his chest with a knife edge chops. He then sends King Cure across the ring and into the opposite corner. Page runs across the ring to follow up with an attack when Cure counters with a back elbow to the face. While Page stumbles back, Cure slingshots himself out onto the apron before knocking Page down with a springboard diving side kick! He makes the cover, but Page kicks out at two.

Cure then sends Page into the ropes with an irish whip. When Page returns, Cure goes for a hip toss. But Page blocks and counters with a lariat! He pulls Cure back up before knocking him back with an elbow strike. He then runs over and blasts Cure with a forearm shot, sending King Cure stumbling into the ropes. As Page approaches, Cure hits him with a kick to the midsection. He then delivers another kick… and another. Cure goes for another kick when Page catches his foot. He drags Cure away from the ropes and back towards the center of the ring. Cure throws out an enzuigiri, but Page ducks. He then hoists Cure up to his feet from off the mat before throwing out a German Suplex. But Cure is able to rotate in the air and land on his feet. When Page turns around, Cure rushes back over and throws out a salvate kick. But Page catches the foot, swings the leg away from him, grabs Cure from behind and goes for another German. This time, Cure counters with a back elbow to the face on the way up. After following up with a pelé kick, Cure takes off into the ropes. When Cure returns, Page throws him down with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! He makes the cover, but Cure gets his shouldr up.

As the match continues, Page delivers a vertical suplex for a two count. He then hurls Cure across the ring with a double underhook suplex for another two count. Page then sets up for a Saito Suplex when Cure counters with elbows to the back of the head. He then stands Page upright and rocks him with multiple forearm strikes before whipping him into the ropes. When Page returns, Cure brings him down with a frankensteiner! He makes the cover, but Page gets his shoulder up at two.

In the sixth minute, Cure rocks Page with a salvate kick. While Page is dazed, Cure gets behind him before throwing him down with a Ripcord Slingblade! Cure then goes for a standing corkscrew Shooting Star press when Page gets his knees up. But Cure’s able to land on his feet. He then grabs Page by the legs and rolls him over into a kneeling position. Cure quickly follows up with a bicycle knee strike that echoes throughout the arena, sending Page crumbling to the canvas! The Mid-Atlantic Legacy Champion then reaches down, grabs Page and bashes him with the Coming of Age (Double wrist-lock knee strike to a kneeling opponent)! He makes the cover. ONE! TWO! T-NO! Page gets his shoulder up. Cure grabs Page, pulls him up onto his knees and throws out a Buzzsaw Kick. But Page ducks, scrambles back to his feet and follows up with the Aneurysm (gamengiri) to the back of the head! While Cure is stunned, Page grabs him from behind and throws out a ripcord Concussion. But again, Cure ducks. When Page turns around, Cure whips him into the ropes. When Page returns, Cure brings him down with a running Spanish Fly! He makes the cover. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! Page gets his shoulder up.

Cure drags Page towards the side of the ring before stepping onto out the apron. He goes for a topé atomico, but Page counters by getting his knees up! Page picks up Cure, lifts him up from the side and delivers a pendulum backbreaker. The King of the F’n World pulls Cure back up before bringing him back down with The Paralyzing (hangman’s neckbreaker)! Page pulls Cure back up before doubling him over with a knee thrust to the midsection. After placing Cure in a standing headscissors, Page lifts him up onto his shoulders. Sensing what’s coming next, Cure tries to block it with multiple punches to the head. But Page fights through it, runs towards the corner and delivers a Turnbuckle Powerbomb. After Cure bounces off the turnbuckles, Page grabs him before throwing him down with an Exploder Suplex! The King of the F’n World pulls up Cure before shooting him off into the ropes. When Cure returns, Page knocks him down with Sole Destruction (discus big boot)!

One Cure turns over and gets up on a knee, Page is ready to nail him with the Trauma Symphony (Boma Ye) when Evan Envi slides into the ring and knocks Page down from behind with a clothesline, causing the DQ! The Baltimore crowd explodes with cheers at the sight of the Chief inside the ring for the first time tonight. The cheers continue as Envi gets to his feet and puts the boots to Page! The hometown favorite yanks up Page by his hair, marches into the corner and slams him face-first into the corner. After turning Page around, Envi blasts Page with a European Uppercut, followed by a knife edge chop.

WOOOOOOOO!

Eni then nails Page with another European Uppercut, followed by a knife edge chop.

WOOOOOOOO!

Envi looks around and smirks before delivering a rapid European Uppercut/knife edge chop combo…

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

And another...

WOOOOOOOO!

Once Envi stops, he looks around and sees the hometown crowd cheering and applauding him. It’s the first time in many months that the Chief has had an entire crowd on his side. He turns his attention back to Page, whom he sends into the far corner with an irish whip. The FGA World Champion runs across the ring to follow up with an attack when Page turns him around with a boot to the face. While Envi staggers towards the middle of the ring, Page grabs him from behind and throws out a ripcord Concussion. Gasps can be heard from the crowd when Envi ducks before running the ropes. When Page turns around, the crowd explodes with cheers when Envi knocks him down with the Kapowski Kick!

After Page rolls to the outside, Envi rolls out, grabs him and goes for an irish whip. But the King of the F’n World reverses. The crowd gasps when Envi crashes back-first against the guardrail. While Envi arches his back against the rail, supportive hometown fans in the front row shout words of encouragement to the FGA World Champion while patting him on the back and shoulders. Page lines up Envi in his sights before he comes barreling down ringside. Just as Page is about to strike, Envi quickly turns and hops over the guardrail. Page slams on the brakes to stop himself from crashing into the rail. As Page motions to go after Envi, the fans in front row deliberately get him his way. Page does a double take. He then walks a few steps down the aisle before trying to enter through another part of the crowd. But once again, fans in the crowd protect the Chief from his number one contender. Page turns and walks away from the guardrail while shaking his head in disbelief. Just then, Page turns, runs back over and goes to leap over the rail. But the raucous fans hold him in place and keep him separated from Envi.

The environment is surreal. Fans at home are looking forward to seeing Envi fall to the lumberjacks at Capital Combat. But tonight, it’s Page that has fallen victim to a hostile environment. Page tries to wrestle himself free from the overzealous fans. He looks up and yells at Envi who, at this point, in on the level platform just outside of the concourse. The crowd explodes with cheers while Envi stands tall. He is soon flanked by Ricky Valero to his right and Nat McKinley to his left. After getting handed the FGA World Championship belt, the Chief raises his title to an explosion of cheers from the crowd.