Morgan Payne: "I ain't worried abaht someone who paints up like Bozo. He likes to pull handkerchiefs out. I like to pull tendons loose. Who next? Bruce? Bruce McLeod of da Clan McLeod! Did I get dat one right? There can be only one? Too bad it ain't gon' be you, old man. You got da experience but I just proved I can beat someone with more experience than me. I'mma do it again witchu. You like to take it to da grahnd? Yo, dat's my shit. I like scrappin'. I'mma plug da best scrappers in da game. Connie Mac and Jason Van Owen. There's too many ta list ahff. Na Fianna, my dude. We're made for dis shit. Gettin' in there an' fuckin' someone up. Pullin' muhfuckers apart like goddamn jigsaw puzzles and makin' docs try to put 'em back together again. I'mma break you up like Humpty Dumpty and sahnd da fuckin' trumpets for all da King's horses and all da King's men. They gonna come arahnd, look atchu and be like 'damn, how da fuck we gonna fix dis? We can't! Da Highlander got no legs cuz Morgan Payne took 'em!"
Morgan sticks her Newport back in her mouth and throws the deuces. She turns this into a middle finger and winks before taking the cigarette out of her mouth.
Morgan Payne: "Who's next? Kelly? Kelly! Let's talk abaht Kelly. Kelly Parcheesie-Nelson."
Elaine Bryant: "Penkzee."
Morgan Payne: "Huh?"
Elaine Bryant: "It's Penkzee. Kelly Penkzee-Nelson."
Morgan Payne: "Pfft. A'ight, sure whatever. Look, I ain't gonna pull da whole "who da fuck is you" bit wif any o'these people but...tee bee aich, I had ta google all tree o'these muhfuckers ta get an idea. Maybe they had ta do da same for me. I dunno. I dun give a fuck. Kelly, you got some straps on your resume. So do I. You wanna add da Multiuniversal Title to yours. Alla us in dis match do. Spoiler alert, case you din't know: I made it here ta da finals. So for you, dat ain't gonna happen. Do I got somethin' to prove? Yeah, I ain't gon' deny dat. There's still too many muhfuckers here who think of me as a joke. Butchu know what? I don't see any o'those muhfuckers in dis tournament fightin' one, two, tree goddamn matches in one night. Whuppin veterans asses n'at. Kelly, you're kinda a vet. You been goin' abaht seven years nah. You got some mileage t'me, so hear me real good. You also got a bad shoulder. Yeah, ahnno abaht dat from brushin' up on you. I already knocked two long time vets ahtta dis tournament. Before da night's over, I'mma knock aht two more and a literal joke of a wrestler. I just got my ass worked over by one of da baddest muhfuckers to lace up a pair of boots and I still got some left in da tank. I'mma give it to da tree o'yinz when I walk up in dat ring, bruised, beaten and busted up. Yinz may not wanna believe it right nah butchu will when da ending bell rings and it's MY arm dat da referee raises up. Ring announcer's gonna say it lahd an' clear. Here is your winner, Morgan Payne. They want a victory speech after? I'mma sum it up in tree words...."
Just as Morgan reaches this point, Moe Renhuan finishes taping her other hand up and Morgan snuffs out her cigarette butt. She pulls the cropped t-shirt from over her knee on and adjusts it. The neckline and sleeves are sliced off and the hem is trimmed to just under the hemline is trimmed to just above her waistline, but it's plainly obvious that it's a Kingdom t-shirt. Morgan stands up, sneering through a thin curtain of soaked hair as she spreads her arms out.
Morgan Payne: "Behold...The...Kingdom!"
MR. ROTTENTREATS
Somewhere behind the SPLAT! Splatterhouse Gym Arena. Vaughn Ronie Jr. is the only occupant of the frame; walking a circle into the asphalt and nervously wringing his hands. Noticing the camera; VRJ skittishly begins.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “I gotta hand it to ya Atty, you sure do have some educated knees! Treats wouldn’t want me saying this for everyone in the building to hear. But, that cut above his eye could present itself to be quite the hindrance in the final round. Those guardrails...”
The Purveyor of RARE Professional Rasslin’ Paraphernalia anxiously rubs his chin with his right hand; checking his white gold pocket watch with his left.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “Speaking of, it won’t be long before that bell rings and he steps into the ring with Bruce McLeod, Kelly Penkzee-Nelson, and Morgan Payne. The final four!”
Vaughn looks around penitently; making sure Treats isn’t anywhere near yet.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “Truth be told. I shouldn’t have signed Mr. Rottentreats up for the Triad Challenge.”
A poof of smoke envelopes Vaughn Ronie Jr. It begins to swirl as VRJ wafts it away. Mr. Rotttentreats slowly rises up behind his manager in a fit of laughter.
Mr. Rottentreats: “PEEK-A-BOO!”
Vaughn jumps to the side; startled. Treats begins circling VRJ; tucking his thumbs into his wrestling promotion patch covered battle vest. The camera pulls back slowly; revealing the white, blood-stained, and patched jeans.
Mr. Rottentreats: “So, ya think ya shouldn’t had signed your dear older brother up for a tournament with such high stakes, HUH?!”
Treats and Vaughn are now left eye to left eye; VRJ nudges Treats back.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “…no.”
Shocked, Treats roughly pokes VRJ in the left shoulder.
Mr. Rottentreats: “andwhy’sdat?”
VRJ rubs his shoulder; answering.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “You were a bit gassed after the first round. You were busted open in the second round, but you had that look in your eye.”
Treats turns to the camera.
Mr. Rottentreats: “my eYE!”
VRJ attempts to mask his chuckle; continuing.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “You had that look in your eye when the ref raised your hand in victory after eliminating Atara as well.”
Treats strokes his right cheekbone with a work glove covered hand.
Mr. Rottentreats: “Exactly what look would that be, Junior? Surprise? Doubt? Dog damn, I’m actually advancing?!”
Angrily shifting his eye left to right; Treats awaits his younger brother’s answer.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “No. It was pure passion!”
Treats begins bouncing excitedly; his back now to the camera. The back patch on his battle vest adorned by an eyeball with a turnbuckle through it.
Mr. Rottentreats: “DOG DAMNED RIGHT! PASSION!”
VRJ grins; pulling Treats into the crook of his arm.
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “I haven’t seen you this happy since Sally was born. I haven’t seen you this driven since WARPED Wrestling embarked on the Murder Mitten Mayhem Tour! I haven’t seen you this hungry since…”
Mr. Rottentreats: “this morning when it took forever to get our breakfast burritos from that T-Bell Pop-Up?”
Vaughn Ronie Jr.: “Not that kind of hungry. That hunger for greatness!”
A chortle