Corey Bull [vs] Flex Johnson [vs] Ashe Corvin

~Deep within the decimated city that resides in the mind of Corey Bull, there sits an are that is cleared out. 50 yards long and 50 yards wide, it is set with black onyx and white marble tiles. It is a huge chess board and currently has a game in progress. To one side sits Hatebringer and his black pieces. Demonic and draconic, these pieces have red glowing eyes and seem to have smoke coming off of them. Five pieces remain on the black side: a huge demon with a crown of bones, two dragons with riders, a demon that looks more like a brick tower then a demon, and a small imp like creature. on the other side sit’s the albaster body of The Saint. His pieces are all knight like. His king remains, as does a rook, two squires, and knight. Hatebringer seems to be thinking as he speaks~

Hatebringer:
”Knight to G7.”

The Saint:
” Pawn takes knight at G7”

~The squire walks up to the dragon with a rider, and literally guts it from front shoulder to back leg. The dragon and rider crumble to the ground and dissipates into a cloud of smoke. Hatebringer grabs a rock from his makeshift seat and throws it at the squire. It harmlessly passes through him~

Hatebringer:
”Dammit! Stupid little bitch! Attacking my magnificent knights!”

The Saint:
”You always have to get so irate about it. It is a game that reflects upon your thought process. The pieces are just that: pieces.”

Hatebringer:
”Are we ready for this next show or not? Pawn to C3.”

The Saint:
”He doesn’t even know it is coming. He will be in a situation that will make him vulnerable to this. Pawn to G8. Trade in for my Queen. Check.”

~The lowly Squire bows out and is replaces by a regal woman in full plate mail with a huge two handed sword.~

Hatebringer:
” And what about the other one. Have you decided how to make him incapacitated? King to C7.”

The Saint:
”After speaking with B, we have established where his likely location will be and I have conferred with Bully to several avenues of distraction. We had a conversation with Calypso today and she is making the necessary arrangements to ensure he is occupied. Queen takes Rook at A8.”

Hatebringer:
”So we are finally going to sink our teeth into the pre game snack before we force the main course into a fight? Pawn to C2. Check.”

~The Saint stands and flexes his huge black feathered wings as he surveys the field. Though the two are over 50 yards away from each other, they still speak as if they are right next to one another.~

The Saint:
”Yes, we are going to finally extract the vengeance we had thought lost to us. After all these years, he is within our grasp. King takes Pawn C2.”

Hatebringer:
”We want to take him now. Knight takes Pawn D2!”

The Saint:
”King takes Knight D2. Patience is something that is called a virtue.

Hatebringer:
“I have very little love for virtues and I can not get to him fast enough! This is taking forever and a day! King to B7.

The Saint:
”We will get him. Make no mistake about that. And when we do, we shall rip him limb from limb. The best way to do it is to make sure he has no escape. It is just like in Chess HB, the best laid plan is the most beneficial. Rook to B1. Checkmate.”

~The black demon king, realizing he has no where to run, bows his head in defeat as the knights slash and rip him to shreds. Both Hatebringer and The Saint laugh as everything fades to a swirl of nothing~



A small fire blazes on what appears to be red, dry land. The clay and rock instantly reminds one of the land of Australia. Calypso, dressed in a long flowing gown of browns and greens, bobs and weaves around the fire. There seems to be no rhythm or pattern to what she is doing, but when the camera catches her face, it seems that her eyes are rolled in the back of her head and her face and chest are covered in a red liquid. Blood is the obvious first impression. The crackle of the fire is the loudest thing, for there is no other sound. Calypso stops and her intake of air sounds like a bass drum. When she exhales, the fire erupts into a blaze. Calypso’s eyes return to normal and the smile that crosses her face is one of pure ecstasy. Her top is shoved over her shoulders and the gown hit’s the flor and she stands with her arms spread, the fire caressing every curve of her naked body. The fire blocks out the view that everyone wishes they could have, and a psychotic cackle pierces the night

”The Joker to the Ace of Spades. I can feel your energy. It is a mixture of street junk and rock star. It is nothing like my Hatebringers….for his is primal….vile….and hate filled. It is like a volcano of pure hate ready to erupt. And it is coming for you. And you don’t even know it.”

Calypso works her way around the fire, but the camera follows here from a distance, always keeping the flames between it and her. She stares into the camera, her hair damp from the blood. The top of her breasts are just barley visible over the crackling flame, her chest heaving up and down with the excitement. He eyes have a feral look to them as she continues to walk around the fire

”My Hatebringer is hungry, his last meal did not last that long. But it seems that they have supplied him with a good meal. Two hungry individuals. Both filled with fire and the want to move one step forward. Oh yes, they shall do for my Hatebringer. A flashback and a new comer. But it is not the same man that faced my Hatebringer before. Then again…”

Calypso cackles

”…my Hatebringer isn’t the same monster he faced before. So much has changed. And yet…so much is the same. It just took the right sort of temperament to bring it out of him. And I have exactly the right sort of temperament. I can’t wait to watch you boys bleed.”

Calypso cackles and throws her head back as the flames erupt higher into the sky as the camera fades to black



~A dark street, somewhere in Australia, greets the viewer. Street lights at large intervals sit here and there. The sound of heavy boots on cement is heard as a large figure comes into view. A familiar cackle rings through the night air as Calypso comes slipping into view. Her dress, a long Hijab style, twirls around here. Its chocolate brown coloring is a lovely contrast to the crazed look she has on her face. She seems to be dancing and jittering to a tune that only she can hear as she skips down the road. The heavy boot falls of Corey Bull continue, as he slips in and out of the lights. His pace is even and he seems to be moving with a purpose. He stops next to a brick building, though not much of one. It resembles an old guard tower. Bull’s deep voice comes out from under the mask, a familiar tune on it. He speaks it, doesn’t sing it, and that makes the tune no less frightening or appealing~

”By the last breath of the four winds blow
Better raise your ears
The sound of hooves knocks at your door
Lock up your wife and children now
Its time to wield the blade
For now you have got some company”

~Bull turns to the camera and the looks in his eyes stops the hearts of several viewers. Little children run and hide under their beds, swearing with all their soul that the boogyman was just on TV~

“Metallic’s ‘Four Horseman’. When one thinks of the infamous group of riders from Revelations, you think of multiple individuals. But that is not so with us. You see, within us lies more then one individual. We are many and we are legion. But more then that, we are the Horseman reincarnate.”

“We are Conquest, seeking out new and old enemies so that we may strike them down. We do not carry a sword, for our fists and feet are all the weapons we require. And with them we bring War to their worlds. We watch them prepare for battle, and we see the flaws in their defenses. We leave Pestilence in our wake, watching our enemies roll on the ground in pain and agony. We smell the foulness of their disease and we smile. And we promise Death with every move we make. Your careers, your very lively hood, it is ours to squeeze the blood out of till there is nothing left to drip out.”

~Bull turns his red orbs on the building next to him~

”Welcome to Ballart Gaol. Its construction began in 1856, taking the plans of Eastern State Penitentiary in Philidelphia. This prison was completed in 1857 and finished its work on 1965. Now, most of the gaol has been demolished for the School of Mines Ballarat. But this guard tower, this is one of the few remains. It is right near this tower that the gallows used to swing for public executions, and just one of the places the ghosts of the past roam.”

”Will I get to see a ghost tonight my Hatebringer?”

”We could very well see one.”

”How delicious.”

~Calypso skips off giggling, looking around shrubs and lanp post saying “Here ghosty ghosty”. Bull returns his vision to the camera and several women go into early labor from the sheer force of his will~

”James Johnston was killed here in 1891. He slaughtered his wife, then moved on to kill each of his four children in horrific fashion. Elijah Cockroft killed his sweetheart and then found his neck in the noose. Murderers. Killers. Men who’s blood ran black and cold. That is the blood that lies on this land. We can feel it, we can feel them. Their anguish. Their anger. Their HATRED! Their hate emanates from this place, it fills the air. We can smell it on the wind. And we laugh. We laugh because it is the sort of hate that fuels our fires. It is the sort of hate that prepares one for the things that they shall do. And we have nothing but murderous intentions on our mind. Flex Johnson. Ashe Corvin. These are the men that have been laid before us. And they are the ones that shall feel the full brunt of our hatred.”

~Bulls eyes seem to flare with an force so powerful that pacemakers skip a beat, sending many people into a panic attack that almost leads to death~

”Flex. It has been a long time. A lot has changed since we last faced off against one another. And yet, for you, things are still the same. You have not changed. You simply moved. You are still the same man that stood before us those other times. What will you say? That you have beaten us before? Yes, you have, but you beat something that was not what we are now. You beat a shell of the monster we use to be. But you can look at us Flex, you can see for yourself that the monster has once again risen from the ashes and not only that, but we have increased our destructive force. This isn’t going to be a walk down memory lane for you Flex. This is going to be a moment….a moment that you will wish NEVER happened. A moment that is going to haunt you for a long time after the match has ended. Your misguided conceptions of how the outcome of this match will be mean nothing. You are not as prepared as you believe yourself to be. Flex….look at us. Look at us! Do we even resemble the monster you have faced in the past? Are we anything like that thing? If you answered either of those yes, then you are more of a fool then we had believed. And removing you from our path is that much more enjoyable for us.”

“Ashe Corvin. The man who calls himself the King of Darkness. Something that you can not claim at all. You see Ashe, the darkness has no king. The shadows do as they wish, and there is no one that can tell them how to act. They live and breathe and allow us to feel them, to wander them. The darkness is like a second skin for us, a home away from the misery that is this place. Your hope and dreams are invested in this return to the ring. You want to prove you are the greatest to ever wrestle. But that is going to be a difficult task to prove come Battlegrounds. You see, you are going to run into destiny. And destiny is not shining upon you. No Ashe, Fate is a fickle bitch and she has chosen your path and within that path lies a solid brick wall of hate. This wall though, it does not just sit and stand guard. It battles back. It brings with it the winds of violence and they shall sweep over you like a scythe in the long grass. Your path to your so called greatness, it is on notice. For every moment that you step in the ring, you believe it is just one step closer to proving something that no longer exists. It is dead. Your past career, is in shambles. And we are going to leave you in pieces.”

”Can I take the broken pieces and put them together into something worth looking at?”

”You may do as you wish Calypso. You can mix and match the pieces and make something that the world will bow before and cry at the sight of.”

”God this place makes me hate my clothes. Come my Hatebringer, I want to see what happens if we fuck like animals where they hung the killers.”

~Calypso takes off, her dress already being dragged over her head as she disappears off into the darkness. Bull turns to the camera, his eyes windows into the mind of madness and hatred. His voice comes out with lyrics once more, spoken with conviction~

”Time
Has taken its toll on you
The lines that crack your face
Famine
Your body it has torn through
Withered in every place
Pestilence
For what you have had to endure
And what you have put others through
Death
Deliverance for you for sure
There is nothing you can do.

We are the nails in your coffins. We are the bearers of your caskets. And we are the caretakers of your destiny. And our verdict is to NAIL YOU WITH HATE!”

~The metal of the mask and the angle of the light make it seem as if a sinister smile crosses the mask as Bull turns and walks off into the darkness and the camera fades out to nothing~

Strongpoint

Scene 1 Journal

“Last week in Japan was amazing.

“Backstage, a lot of people have been making comments about me—mainly about that ladder match. It annoyed me to no end, at first. But, the jokes grew cold VERY quickly. After a while, I really didn’t care too much anymore.

“However, I think that six-man match really shut some fools up. I like a nice joke as much as the next guy; but, this is my career we are talking about. I came to IWF to shock the world once again. And last week, well, I think I but people on notice.”

…

“Speaking of being ‘put on notice,’ I had an interesting conversation with Ace Static a few days ago. It’s safe to say that Ace and I are nowhere near friends. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that we absolutely hate each other. Why do we hate each other? Well, it’s a complicated situation to say the least. I mean, I guess you could say all this animosity started when we had our first match.

“Or, slightly before it.

“There was a lot of buzz when Axle and Ace first teamed up. The two had this big viral campaign—essentially they hid in secrecy and talked shit about everyone on the roster. Most of the roster got scared—they stayed in their locker rooms and keep quiet. But, a select few of us, decided that we weren’t going to take any shit.

“Those were the first shots of our impending war.

“The first match I had against Ace was lackluster. It was a tag-match if I recall correctly. I don’t exactly remember who my partner was, but he was a piece of shit. Basically, it was a two-on-one and I ended up losing.

“Actually, Ace and I have never faced off one on one. We have only had three in-ring encounters—all of them tag-team matches.

…

“I guess it really doesn’t matter too much. Soon enough, Ace and I are going to face-off against each other. I’m not a mind-reader and I can’t predict the future. But, when he and I do face-off it’s going to be a bloodbath. I’m not sure if IWF is ready for it.”


Scene 2
4/2/13—10 p.m.

After his match in Japan, Flex hopped on a direct flight and headed straight for L.A. He had promised his buddy Mongo that he would face him in his retirement match, and he wasn’t going to break that promise. Mya, who had returned from Europe on Saturday, met Flex at the airport.

Flex’s flight touched down at 6 p.m. Mya drove him home; he caught a small 30-minute nap and was out of the door by 7:35 p.m.

…

Mongo was wrestling at really small indy promotion. To be honest, it really wouldn’t be worth mentioning the company. Mongo’s match was the third match on the card—not too low, but not extremely high. However, there were not a lot of fans out in the crowd. For a normal Tuesday show, the company would usually draw about 150 to 200 people. However, there were 75 people at the most that night.

Nonetheless, those 75 people were fired up. They were the hardcore, die-hard fans. Mongo came out and got a huge reaction. The week prior, Flex had told Mongo that people respected his work—this crowd proved his point.

The crowd died down a bit after Mongo’s music went off. Now, the promotion had advertised Mongo’s match; however, it did not reveal who his opponent was. The poster and fliers simply said a “surprise guest.” Flex’s music hit and the crowd went absolutely crazy. You see, Flex’s career path was a little different than most. Flex never really HAD to work the indy scene—he was picked up by a major promotion right out of wrestling school. In fact, Flex had only worked maybe 10 indy matches in life.

…

Flex and Mongo stood toe-to-toe in the ring. Mongo threw the first shoot and the match took off from there.
And 20 minutes later, it was over.

After the match, Mongo stood in the ring as he received a standing ovation. Someone tossed a mic into the ring at one point. Mongo addressed the crowd—he told them that he appreciated their support; and, if he ever did comeback to wrestling, that promotion would be the place of his first match.

…

After the match, Flex and Mongo talked while backing up their gear.

“Hey man, thanks again for doing this for me,” said Mongo.

Flex laughed.

“Man, it’s no problem.” Said Flex. “But, I’ve got something to ask.”

“What’s up.”

Flex sighed.

“Well, we had a talk last week. You told me that you didn’t feel accomplished.”

“That’s right.”

“Mongo, when you got into the wrestling business, what was your dream? What was your goal?”

“My dream,” said Mongo. “Well, I guess my dream wasn’t too different than anyone who gets into wrestling. My dream was to become a world champion in Japan. You know, I wanted to have a long, dominant title reign. And then, once I had achieved that goal, I wanted to become a world champion in U.S.”

Flex nodded his head.

“Ok.

“Homles, I know you never became world champion. BUT, you did have success man. You are a multi-time tag team champion. Not only that, but everyone one respects you man. I’ve never heard anyone have a bad thing to about you.

“I know all of that wasn’t your ultimate goal—but its commendable man. Believe it or not, you have done more than a lot of people in the business ever get to do.”

Mongo was silent for a few seconds. But, after a few moments, he nodded his head.

“You know what man, you’re right.”

“I know that you didn’t exactly do what you set out to do; but, you did leave your mark on the business man.

“And, there’s one more thing…”

“What’s that?” asked Mongo.

“You started wrestling when you were 18—you are only 30 holmes! With the way you take care of your body and train, you’ve got another 5 years at least, probably 10 or more.”

Mongo nodded his head.

“That is true.”

Flex laughed a bit.

“Look man, I’ve retired once myself. And, I have taken a couple of leaves. So, I can’t tell you not to retire. But, it will tell you this man—you will want to get back into the ring. About three months after your last match, you are going to want to get back into the ring.

“So my man, my advice to you is to finish your tour. Then afterwards, sit back and enjoy your time off; spend some quality time with your wife and children. But remember; keep in contact with some feds. And then, when you feel comfortable, reach out and make some calls. Some fed will be happy to have you.”

Mongo smiled.

“Alright Flex, I’ll take your advice.”

“And you know what, when you return call me. We can hit the indys here in L.A.”

Mongo laughed.

“You never hit the indys man.”

“I hit them today didn’t I?” asked Flex as he smiled.

“True enough,” said Mongo.

Flex grabbed his ring bag.

“Now come on holmes—Mya is at home making dinner and shit.”

“You sure she is cool with me staying the night.”

Flex laughed

“Yeah man. It was actually her idea.”


Scene 3

Flex pulled the handle of a large wooden door. After exhorting a bit of force, the door opened, and Flex entered a large building. On the inside of the building, close to the door, there was a large metal desk. Seated at the desk was a short, blonde girl, who was reading a magazine. The girl looked up after spotting Flex; she also set down the magazine.

“Welcome to Adele's of Hollywood.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“No ma’am, I’m just browsing. But thank you.”

“No problem,” said the girl.

Flex continued to walk further into the building. Flex walked until he spots three or four rows of white racks. The racks were filled with hundreds of masks. There were masks of all kinds—some of them were lucha masks, some were skeleton masks, some were animals.

He glanced at the masks, but Flex really didn’t seem too interested in the masks. He continued to walk until he came up racks and racks of costumes. Flex walked up and down the isles.

Adele’s was known as one of Hollywood’s best costume shops in California.

There were a couple of things that caught Flex’s eye as he perused the isles. The first costume that caught his eye was a large, Black bear suit. Flex felt the costume.

“Wow, feels like real fur,” said Flex.

The second costume that caught his eye was a ninja suit. Flex felt this one as well; impressed by the quality, he nodded his head and continued to browse. Flex walked a few steps before reaching a large black cloak. Flex touched the cloak; he then shook his head.

“Cheap ass cloak!”

Flex snatched the cloak off the rack and tossed it to the ground.

“You know what’s worse than a cheap ass costume…

“…a cheap ass gimmick!

Flex sighed.

“Speaking of cheap ass gimmicks, I’m going to get my fill this week. This week I will be pitted against Ashe Corvin, and Corey Bull.

“Now Bull, you and I have a lot of history. So, I’m going to save you for last.

“So, let me address you Mr. Corvin.”

Flex smirked.

“Now I’ll be honest sir, I didn’t think I was going to face you again anytime soon. I figured I was going to go on and win the High Impact title. And you Ashe…well, I really didn’t give fuck what you were going to be doing. But, it appears fate had something different planned. And, as everyone knows, you can’t fight fate on this type of things.”

Flex was silent for a second.

“Ashe, last week you said something hat stuck in my mind. I believe your exact words were ‘Flex are nowhere near my league son. Try as you might, you will never be in it either.’”

Flex laughed.

“Well, you were right about one thing Ashe, I’m not in your league holmes. Perhaps I was in YOUR league seven years ago when I hoped into this business, but I’m not any more. No—I’ve transcended your league sir.

“I’m in a whole league of my very own Ashe.

“Ashe my dude, you talk a good game. Or, should I say, you talk a ‘decent’ game. You see Ashe, you talk all this shit about how you are the ‘King of Darness,’ about how you are going to go to any length to get a win. But, the fact of the matter is Ashe, all that is just a bunch of talk.

“But, you know what else you are Ashe? Ha, you are nothing more than a walking gimmick. I mean, seriously man, do you really think people buy that whole ‘King of Darkness’ shit? Well, I’ll tell you now—they don’t. IWF management, the fans, they don’t see you as a king. No—they see you as a pale gothic reject with mediocre ring skills.”

Flex smirked.

“Oh yeah, I said mediocre ring skills Ashe. The fact of the matter is, I beat you in the ring of the ring last week Ashe. Not only that, but I single-handily defeated most of the men in that match.

“So, what does all of that really mean?

“Well, first and foremost, it means that I’m better than you. But come on holmes, that really shouldn’t come as a surprised to you Ashe. I told you, and I told the rest of the people in that match that I was better than you all. And guess what? I went out there and I backed it up.

“Ashe, last week I solidified my position here in IWF, at YOUR expense.”

Flex looked down at the cloak that was on the floor. He touched it a few times with his shoe.

“You know what I HATE about American wrestling Ashe? It’s darn gimmick pushers like you. You see, people like you hide behind there gimmicks. Some people hide behind their gimmicks because they don’t have TRUE skills in the ring. Others hide behind gimmicks because they aren’t really confident in themselves.

“Which category do YOU fall into Ashe?

“What’s the difference between you and I Ashe? You see Ashe, I don’t have a gimmick man. I’m not some drugged-out stoner, I’m not a rock and roll god, and I’m not the king of the underworld. I’m simply ‘Flex Johnson.’ My ring skills speak for themselves. And trust me holmes—I’m very confident in myself. Ashe, you hide behind your gimmick; I’m an open book. Maybe that is why the fans respect me more than they respect you.

“Or, perhaps that’s why I can stay in a committed relationship.”

Flex kicked the cloak to the side.

“Ashe, last week I defeated you. I proved to you, and the rest of IWF that I’m back. Ashe, I’m on a fast climb to the top—and you are not going to trip me up on my climb.”

Flex gazed at the cloak a little longer. He then turned walked back the way he had come. Eventually, Flex ended back up in the mask section again. Flex spotted a large metal mask. Flex picked the mask up; most people would be frightened of it. Flex was frightened however; he had stood toe-to-toe with a similar mask on various occasions.

Flex smirked.

“Corey Bull.

“How are you doing sir? It’s been quite a long time hasn’t time.

“You know what Bull, you are right—I am the same. I’m the still the same negro that will get on the mic and rip you a new asshole. I’m still the same legend that as whipped your ass time and time again. I’m still the best in the world.

“But, enough about me Corey. How about we talked about you?

“Corey, you and I have faced off countless times. Hell, I’ve probably wrestled you more times than I wrestled anyone else. And, I’ll be honest Corey—I look forward to facing you. I ALWAYS look forward to facing you sir. You see Corey, you have always had this, aurora, about you. You are big and bulky, you are normally dressed in black, you wear this gruesome mask. Most people are frightened, terrified when they stand across the ring from you—that’s why you win a great deal of matches. But Corey, that shit has never worked on me. Corey you are used to taking on cowards. In UECW, you always faced fools who probably shouldn’t have stepped inside the ring in the first place. And in PWSi, well, you faced more of the same.

“Fortunately for me, I’m not a coward.

“I always talk about all these wars that I’ve been in, but I never really elaborate on them. Corey, I’ve been in many ladder matches, and I’ve survived them all. I’ve survived being burned in an Inferno match. I’ve stepped into countless cages, cells, structures, and kicked ass.

“You have been in those cells with me Corey; you’ve been in those ladder matches.”

Flex placed the mask back on the shelf.

“But, there are other reasons why I’m not scared of you Corey.

“First off, you are consistent…allow me to elaborate a bit. You consistently beat the bums and scrubs that everyone is supposed to beat. But, you also consistently lose to wrestlers who are far better than you. And guess what Corey, I’m one of those wrestlers that is far better than you. I hate to bring up the past, but let’s be serious Corey—you’ve beaten me once or twice? And yet, we have battle nearly a dozen times—statistically that’s not too good for you holmes.”

Flex smirked.

“Corey, just like Ashe, you are another walking gimmick. You hide behind the title of ‘The Hatebringer,’ you hide behind a mask. But you see Corey, I know the REAL you. I know the love-sick Corey Bull who tried to speak to Jaci Sovereign—and failed. I know the simple-minded Corey Bull who got manipulated by lose harlots. I know the Corey Bull who had a fucked up mother, a fucked up father, and an abusive childhood!”

Flex was silent for a moment.

“Oh, but I guess you didn’t want IWF to know that about you did you?

“What can you say about me Corey? That I’ve been to jail twice? Ha, that’s common knowledge my dude. Maybe you will bring up the fact that I grew up poor—most wrestlers grow up poor, that’s no shame in that.

“You’ve got nothing Corey!

“Face it Corey, I’ve got the better track-record, I’ve got the better past, and I’m the better wrestler!”

Flex shrugged his shoulders. He then proceeded to walk out of the building.


Scene 4

“So, are you excited for your title match?” asked Mya. She had a bowl of pasta in her lap while she sat on the couch. Flex was sitting next to her.

“Indeed,” said Flex. “Although, I still have to pick a match type.”

“Ladder match,” said Mya with a snicker.

“NO—you aint funny.” Flex stroked his chin. “I have two matches in mind.”

“What are they?”

“The first is a Texas Bullrope match.”

“Ok, and what’s he second.”

“I’m keeping the second a secret.”

Mya laughed.

“Ok.

“Well how are you going to pick between the two?”

“It depends on who the champion is after Patrick and Gordon face-off. If Patrick wins, then I’ll probably go with the Bullrope match. Now, if Gordon happens to retain, I’ll probably go with the other match.”

Mya raised an eyebrow.

“This other match—is it something I should be concerned about?”

Flex laughed.

“No babe, there’s no need to be concerned at all.”

END.