Hiro Shin-Mozas vs [Brantley Summers]

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers rolled through the knee drop landing back on his feet, sticking the landing. The crowd watching in anticipation for their hero to make his triumphant comeback. Things seemed to have settled along the outside momentarily and the modern day Piper and Solie at the table were gifting more top notch analysis to the viewers at home.

CALLEN: This Korean guy Brendan, he just can't figure it out. All the idolatry has gotten to his head. It's weird because I actually was attending an online Korean Presbyterian church during the pandemic. The services really opened my eyes to his word but to see this Filipino act like that. What do you think?

SCHAUB: B. Imma keeb it a buck with ya Brine. Imtalmbout dat white boy up there throwin too much weight. He is straight gadooshin the messigan to the shawrdowr realm. Hollin him deep in the shallow waters. Picked up some moves from me when I was kiggin a** at the Gracie gym.

It's true. Summers had tape of Brendan's legendary excursion to the LA Gracie Dojo. He traded John McAdams for it back in the mid-90s. An old school smark, Summers was quickly done with the rag sheets in the early aughts, but maintained his extensive VHS collection of matches and training sessions across the world. Drawing on his knowledge, Summers would look to head over to Hiro and sit him up with a quick headlock. Trying to cover his voice with grunts while trying to lock in the hold, Summers lets out loudly enough for the front row to hear, "I forgot the next spot."  

[HiroShinMozas]

BS had certainly not lost his mind for storytelling as he ended up going right back on the offensive and started working the head with a lock, perfect move by the legend and honestly one of the best posts of the match so far. The headlock would certainly keep the heat on him from the crowd and of course wear down his opponent while he was at it. Though, he then murmured something about forgetting the next spot. Hiro was incredibly confused to hear this whispered in his ear, unable to figure out what the ******** he meant by that. The next spot? What, like this was all fake? Like the great business of Pro Wrestling was just some sort of comedy act or stage play that was going moment to moment that was all planned out in some three-person discord group DM moments prior?

That didn't make any sense, so Hiro would ignore the comment and begin to struggle, trying to break free of Brantley's headlock and get some distance between the two so he could have a ******** second to heal up, god damn like s**t bro.  

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers was forced to break from the hold before figuring out the next routine the competitors would engage in. He backs to his familiar corner realizing he needs a second to plan out his next move. Paul is there to wipe the sweat off of his leader's face while Tito Ortiz gives some advice, "Learn a man to eat, he's fish for a lifetime. He's tryna reach for those grapes. Make him wine." Sage wisdom from the veteran of the octagon. Showed Summers what needed to be done here if he had any hope of keeping control in this match. He shouldn't let Hiro catch his breathe but if there was a ever a time where he could get away with it, it'd be now. The boss was assured boos he heard while congregating with his staff were directed at Hiro for stopping the high octane pace that Summers had set with the knee drop/headlock combination.

Back in the production truck, Kevin Dunn is running around making sure the cameras are on a consistent two seconds and switch routine before barking out more orders. "tsuh tsuh tsuh Do NOT show any blood, we're still PG.. tsuh tsuh.. Go to commentary where the stars are! tsuh tsuh" Dunn runs to the coffee machine, Keurig, it wasn't '95 anymore, they kept coffee in house. He puts in a Dunkin' Donuts flavored K-Cup, his favorite, knowing this was going to be a long match and had only just begun. "Stop showing the Cornette mark! tsuh tsuh tsuh tsuh tsuh.. Show the babes in the front row! They're probably wearing tsuh tsuh.. white cotton panties tsuh tsuh tsuh tsuh...." Dunn trails off turning as red as fat Charles Robinson in his lustful fervor.

Summers climbs up to the second rope and raises his fist in the air in solidarity with Shah Ali Mohammed Shaquille to a chorus of boos from the clearly racist crowd. The rest of MMI does the same, they are one unit. Antonio Brown and the commentary team stand with them. Mark Laundre's Nigerian Prince father wires the company $250,000 American for this act of courage in the predominately white industry.  

[HiroShinMozas]

Hiro would drag himself to the ropes, given the time he needed to be separated from Summers. The Ethnic Enigma cringed as his collarbone radiated pain, all he could do was stick his fingers into the pain spot and push, grimacing all the while. The crowds booing was becoming the most constant background track of all time, and Hiro knew that spoke negatively against him and WAY TOO WELL of BS. He had to get the crowd cheering again, reward them for their loyalty, and put together a big time comeback so he could just focus on whatever matches would come his way next instead of this cirque de solei garbage. Hiro would slowly, almost in a way that wouldn't draw attention, rise to his feet with the support of the ropes. His legs were still a wobbly from the LIONCOCK, that was a given, but for now he had to ignore the fact that he was damaged and quite possibly violated by a referee who was nonchalantly licking his fingers as if nobody would ever know. Hiro screamed out to Summers, "Hey, HEY -- let's get on with it, get down!" -- throwing his hands up and motioning for the last Marauder to get back into the fight and finally make it a real one, not this non-sanctioned defense of a beloved EWA staple championship.  

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers cocks his shoulders back and swings his head around at the sound of Hiro's taunt. He knew the Cubano-Japanese fighter had to get back to booking the rest of his return, his tag team with Nuke Fusion set to debut at Extreme Rules. Staff Member Meltzer told Summers it starts with a big run in save angle against the Damones. Heard the Smokin' Samoans make a couple shots for it. All rumor and innuendo though. The crowd starts to get invested in Hiro. His return, momentarily spoiled by the return of the sleaziest business in the wrestling industry, was finally starting to show the God of Will was exactly that. Having learned psychology from G-Fed's Artful Dodger, Brantley couldn't go back to the lock up at this point, you don't blow the loaded glove spot two pages into the match and just go back to the sound of the bell. The classical technician had to keep his opponent guessing his next move. To achieve it, he looked to get Hiro within striking distance and aim to left jabs with a hard stomp accompaniment. No thigh slaps.  

[HiroShinMozas]

Hiro wasn't going to play this game anymore, he wanted to come back and fight -- not dance. That was more so the purgative of the icon across the ring of him, apparently, but suddenly the fight was taken to him and he was happy about it. Hiro would purposely stick his chin out there, selling punch after punch like a million bucks. After two or three hits he would back up, his jaw actually aching a bit, but it was almost like with each punch Brantley was knocking more and more rust off of the Ethnic Enigma. Hiro would try to reply to his opponent with a serious series of huge left handed chops to his chest, wanting to light him as a receipt for all the ridiculous s**t he'd written into this match so far.  

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers was told at the production meeting specifically not to do the chop spot with the crowd. The world championship match already had that laid out and the office wasn't trying to burn the crowd out of Woos before their big show. Dean Sausage was about to have his Sting Clash 1 coming out show in the main event and they needed to keep as many pops as they could for up and comer's taste of the big stage. Unfortunately, Hiro did not seem to get the same message and was looking to turn Brantley's cheat beat red.

Woooooooo

The first chop connects and starts wobbling Summers. The grimace on his face showed the the burning feeling on his chest with just one slap. Maybe the champ wasn't as prepared for the match as much as he anticipated. The work these days had gotten a little stiffer than what he was accustomed to when he first broke in.

Woooooooo

With the second chop, Summers begins to stagger backwards, winding his arms to keep balance as the force almost knocks him off his feet. His chest was already beginning to show some bruising, the gains he made must've stretched out his pecs, tightened the skin up. Perhaps it made him more vulnerable to slap sounds. Not remembering Hiro's moveset, Summers could only hope there would be no superkicks. The Ethnic Enigma had BS stumbling, and it didn't seem like the chops were stopping.

Woooooooo
Woooooooo
Woooooooo

Each chop pushed Summers further and further back into the corner where Hiro was free to go off on him. The crowd started to get hot as the returning hero was beginning to get some real offense in. It was almost cathartic to see the grandiose villain get essentially back handed repeatedly. Summers could only wince as each clap echoed throughout SoFi.  

[HiroShinMozas]

As chop after chop connected, it got to the point where Summers was completely lodged in the corner at the mercy of the move. Hiro would pick up the pace with his opponent in position, shooting off rapid-fire chops ala Kenta Kobashi before finally letting up at the behest of the ref who didn't want to have to disqualify him. The fans were on their feet, a loud cheer rumbling the ground as the camera zoomed out to show just how over Hiro Shin-Mozas truly was in this moment. Hiro told the ref to check Brantley's chest, thinking he may have caused him to bleed by way of busting a few capillaries, but it looks like he had failed that mission. Shaking his head, the Ethnic Enigma would stalk back towards his opponent, trying to pull him out of the corner and whip him into the ropes, looking to catch him on the rebound with a single legged dropkick to to the FACE!  

[Definitely not Stone]

Stuck in the corner, the rapid fire chops has BS flailing like two bit mobster under tommy gunfire. Probably what he was going for with this whole schtick anyway. The Marauders opened the hottest clubs, kept members in the unions, and ate family dinner at the Olive Garden. The only change Summers was making was the transition to Carraba's. With him on top, they could afford to not need endless soups and breadsticks. Brantley's chest was the same color and consistency as ground beef after the mark's Kenta tribute.

SCHAUB: I gawd word from some bawld guy baggstage that thizziz some sort of combo another one of those PRIDE guys did. I would be worggin this guy, B. The only Messigan that could ever take me is my wive's boyfren T-City.

CALLEN: Yeah Brendan, he's really laying in those slaps to the champ's chest. I'm normally not one to root for losers, I'm not a friend of the left you know, so this is putting me in some conflict because I might after to break my code and cheer for someone illegally in the country twice.

Summers gets a brief reprieve as the challenger calls for the referee to check him for blood. The grease from the official's fingers mixes with the various oils that adorned the chest of BS to create an even more pronounced burning sensation in the pores his chest. Noticing that the champ's pectorals resembled that of one of his favorite delicacies, Bobinson took a his time to feel Summers up for deciding that know blood had yet been spilled, much to the crowd's chagrin. Freaked out and disgusted by his turn to get the official's touch, Summers could barely collect his breathe before getting sent across the ring to the opposite ropes. His momentum sends him flying back only to be met by a foot to the face from Hiro square along his nose. Summers briefly rolls back and forth pinching his nose shut hoping to not release any flood gates before trying to scramble up to his feet to keep his head leaned back.  

[Vic Venom]

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHH

Just as Hiro is gaining the advantage, a Dodge SRT comes hurtling through the entrance ramp set, sparks of electricity popping as the vehicle screeches to a halt. Half of the fans recognize this vehicle from the backlot brawl earlier in the night, the other half of the fans had gone to the vendors or outside for a cigarette break knowing it was the cooldown match. The passenger door opens, and stumbling out of the car comes DJ Killa Kyle soaked in a crimson mask. Tripping as he crawls onto the ramp, the world's famous Tik Toker drags himself towards the ring barely able to see the two blobs in the ring. Although that didn't matter, he was too young to recognize either man. Grabbing onto the apron, he gasps struggling to pull himself up to his feet.

Meanwhile, Dana White pops out of the drivers seat. He waddles down the ramp as well, the sound of a tuba playing with each step as he makes his way around the announce table to join Callen and Schaub. The headsets rumble as he sits down, the sound of ragged and heavy breathing now coming through on the audio feed as White interjects himself into the broadcast.

SCHAUB: War the hell iz dis pizza ship doin here?! I oughta slahp da helloutofyouforeven-

Dana: (heavy breathing) Listen here...... You dumb..... Sack of s**t.... I'm da ********' boss here.... Uhhh... Uhhhgh... Got it?!! You sit there...... And you shut ur ********' mouth.... Or I'll have my schecurity get you the ******** out of here.... Got it?!!

Callen: Guys, guys... Lets focus on the action... It looks like Hiro's in control, but that wigger DJ Killa Kyle is hanging around at ringside... Everything is breaking down!  

[HiroShinMozas]

Hiro was taken as off guard as anyone else in the stadium as Dodge product came slamming through the entrance way, DJ Killa Kyle bleeding like a government mule while stumbling down the ramp. Hiro had no ******** idea who this guy was, he seemed like a real piece of s**t which was probably a reflection of his RPer and creator. The loser ******** stupid b***h was suddenly at ringside, but it wouldn't be for long that he'd be alone.

Better Than You. would storm out from the back around the car, stomping his way down to ringside he would aim to club DJ Killa Kyle in the back and then help load him into the ring, having a complete disregard that the two were interrupting one of the biggest matches at Wrestlemania this year. BTY. was in a hurry to finally end this match and keep his WWF:G career alive, deciding during this ridiculous bullshit brawl with this hard to write with racist that he did have a place in the company after all.

Meanwhile, at Centinela Hospital Medical Center, Nicky Delabonte Jr. was being rushed into emergency surgery, a knife broken off in his body. He had lost consciousness, and was bleeding profusely -- it was unknown if he was actually going to make it or not. In the mind of the sleeping Marauder, he could see nothing but bright lights...almost as if he were laying on the mat, looking up at a vision seen by many a loser before him.  

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers had made his way to Paul in corner during the immediate commotion. Hearing the crash, the new the MMI leader knew that Mick Foley was a friendly face to the organization. Assuming another classic Marauder interruption, the veteran took advantage by having Paul wipe his nose clean of any blood spilling out with his patented Summers Towel. The champ readied himself for any incoming moves with some blind jabs thinking Hiro had given up on any further shenanigans. Vaseline Man, a former top champion in one of the top territories of the day, lathered the turnbuckle in the far right corner. It looked like the deck was stacking against the Ethnic Enigma with the only official in power currently occupied with the unfolding chaos. Hopefully the two greatest* RPers of various decades could put aside their drama for the greatest return to the game since 6IX9INE's post-prison drop. That would be the only way the stars to align and business to be done.

Paul sees DJ Killa Kyle, someone he knew from around the scene, a bloodied mess. Thinking on his feet, the older Summers would throw the towel onto Kyle to hide the blood from his cousin's nose. Helping an associate was all it was. There were no problems though. BS doesn't have Hepatitis C. He has never wrestled Mad Dog McLendon. The more acclaimed Summers was taken aback by the the presence of two what he presumed to be job guys, but he knew how to work a situation. The old school showman starts acting bewildered, doing a walking backflop as the match devolves around him.  

[Scott Norton Fanclub]

((Cartwright gave me permission to do this so if you have a problem with it, take it up with him))

DJ Killa Kyle gets clubbed in the back and gets rolled into the ring. It barely even impacts him and he kips up from the floor, then grabs the top rope shooting himself through the middle rope to dropkick BTY in the face. After successfully, hitting the dropkick, he skims the cat back into the ring and as Hiro is coming from behind to blindside him, catches him in a headscissors and whips him into the middle of the ring on his back.

Going back on offense, he grabs Hiro from off the ground and drills him with a Michinoku Driver. Then he gets up off of the ground and climbs to the top rope. Standing on the top rope he flies through the air, spinning around crashing into his dumb opponent with a 450 splash. Slamming onto the weak, stupid loser he gets up to his feet again and leans over the overrated challenger, flipping him the double bird before spitting right in his face. Then he b***h slaps him for good measure, completely devaluing his stock in one of the most important matches of his life. Finally turning back to Summers, he walks up to him helping him off the ground offering him a fist bump, which turns into a much lengthier, complex secret handshake ending in a side bro-hug.

"What's good OG? Just thought I'd drop by and help you shift this here momentum dawg.. Man did you just see that s**t, bro? Feels like I'm on a different mode rn, feels like I'm on like beast mode, but like an even higher mode than that. DM me, let's workshop some stuff, maybe come up with some new passive revenue ideas."

Concluding the handshake, DJ Killa Kyle turns around and runs full speed to the other side of the ring taking off, clearing the top rope easily for a Fosbury Flop to the outside destroying BTY and his pathetic career. Dusting himself off, he starts walking up the ramp pumping his arms to the stunned crowd. This was a completely different DJ Killa Kyle, one that they had never seen before. Absolutely incredible stuff.  

[Definitely not Stone]

Summers was lifted to his feet by the internet star after watching the beast of a different animal of a performance he just put in. None thought DJ Killa Kyle was going to be landing Michinoku Drivers and 450 Splashes, let alone in the technical masterclass of a match that was happening. The "OG" was confused, not exactly sure how to react to the series of events as things usually didn't go that way. Just a suddenly as he had come in, the TikTokker turned track star by landing the high jump over the ropes. At this point the champ was astounded, he might have found a new ace in the hole for his organization. No wrestler could hope to match the dominance and prowess DJ Killa Kyle displayed, and if he was able to keep that on, the viral sensation that swept the nation will be Summers's ticket everything in WWFG. As Kyle made his way up the ramp, Dana White gets up from the commentary booth and waddles to catch up with his new 20-something year old internet star bestfriend. Full send. At this point, Good Ol' JR has had enough and walks up the ramp with Dana and Kyle as WWFG Legend JBL's music plays. Schaub and King discuss forming a new King and the Sting podcast with Jerry replacing Theo Von. Schaub knew Lawler would fit right in with his crack squad of Callen, D'Elia, and Erik Griffin with all their similarities.

Kevin Dunn is having a meltdown in the production truck again. Bucky knew that being able to follow the car chase to the biggest match of the year could win him the Emmy he so desperately craved. Every twist thrown at his production was just another obstacle to prove that all his years kissing a** were going to mean something. DJ Killa Kyle and Schaub my hook him up with some baddies after this was all said and done. Suddenly, Dave Summers is seen in the truck with a note that he hands to Dunn. That's when Dave presses the button to play JBL's music, thinking it was JR's. Dunn scrambles to keep the cameras on the star trio instead of the still unfolding match as he reads the note he received.

Summers just watched his opponent and someone else's opponent get laid out. While shenanigans were commonplace for a Marauder match, this had gone to a place even the champ of a shut down territory couldn't figure out the correct response to the action. BS had to get to the matters at hand and secure his arbitrary defense of a belt he got from picking it up off of a stabbing victim. Looking to utilize the momentum shift he'd been given, Summers climbs up to the second rope, and using the fist that had been blessed with a better than beast mode dap of DJ Killa Kyle, aimed to take flight and hit another of his captivating signature lines of moves, the Diving Fist Drop! He hoped the swag and freshness radiating off his fist would be enough to open the skin of the challenger, aiming for somewhere on the face.  

[HiroShinMozas]

Brantley Summers' move would connect, and as he got off of Hiro there was blood all over him. It wasn't coming from his face, but instead it was like the impact with BS just made him bleed. It was actually from DJ Killa Kyle. The spot we had planned was to have BTY vs Kyle take over this match for a few pages, highlighting something not really seen in g-fed before. Now I don't care. Hiro was going to be screwed as BS would inevitably go for a pinfall and win the match since there was blood on his opponent and the ref was too stupid to realize it wasnt Hiro's blood and whatever. Who cares.