Jansen starts to walk away, trying to clear the bloody mess away from her face. She kind of blindly walks towards the street but the referee warns her of the passing traffic. From behind, Candi just spears her to the ground and for a moment they just lie there until Candi drapes an arm across Jansen’s chest.
One.
Two.
Th--KICKOUT by Jansen.
Christine Donahue: Candi Bratton has brought her A game to this match. She’s been out of the ring as a singles since mid-2018, but she’s holding her own.
Both wrestlers get to their feet and just begin to club each other with fists and forearms shots. Just hard blows back and forth. Jansen reaches up and rakes Candi’s eyes and Candi just returns the favor as they battle around the side of the building towards the parking lot.
Biff Franklin: I may need to move my car.
Christine Donahue: Sit tight.
Biff Franklin: But, my car is out there.
Christine Donahue: I don’t think you have anything to worry about.
Candi pushes Jansen up against a car and goes to hammer her with another forearm and Jansen moves, as the sound of Candi’s large fist thuds hard against the car as she shouts, “Fuck!” and shakes her hand. Jansen nails her hard with a kick to the midsection. Jansen charges in, but eats a back body drop and lands hard on the pavement as she cries out in pain, holding her back and using the side of the vehicle to get to her feet as Candi slowly catches her breath.
Biff Franklin: That looked like it hurt, bad.
As Jansen gets to her feet, Candi charges in for a spear but at the last possible moment, Jansen pulls open the car door and Candi crashes into it head first and falls to the pavement.
Christine Donahue: My word! She must have a concussion.
Biff Franklin: At her age, that’s not good.
Jansen wipes some of the blood away from her face as she staggers over to an equally bloody Candi Bratton and pulls her up, struggles to lift her up and then just drops her with a delayed piledriver right on the blacktop.
Christine Donahue: Myrrh-driver.
Biff Franklin: That has to be it.
Jansen falls onto the prone body of Candi Bratton as the referee drops down and counts.
One.
Two.
Three!!!
Inside the arena, the bell rings.
Madoka Kawada: The winner of the Spring Valley street fight is “The Anti-Villain” Jansen Myrrh!!!
The crowd inside boos as the referee raises Jansen’s hand, who then just lies back on the ground trying to catch her breath.
Biff Franklin: Well, it wasn’t pretty but damned if they didn’t beat the crap out of each other for over twenty minutes. Myrrh is younger and hungrier and this may be Bratton’s last match.
The camera continues to focus on the two as a couple of medics come in to check on Bratton and Myrrh. Bratton is starting to come around as Myrrh pushes the medic away from her and gets to her feet. She walks over and offers a hand to Candi Bratton who accepts. Jansen helps Bratton to her feet and the two hug it out as the fans cheer inside the arena, watching it on the big screen.
Christine Donahue: What a match between those two. We will come to you again from the Splatterhouse Gym for Splatactular 2: The Second Voyage. We know we will have a Multiuniversal Championship match, but we have just been informed that we will also have a 5BW Championship match as Samantha Tolson Anderson defends against the challenge of Brittini Helms!
We go back outside where Jansen and Candi are heading back into the arena to get tended to.
Christine Donahue: Speaking of the challenger for the Multiuniversal Championship next month, we have some words from the Triad Challenge winner, Bruce McLeod.
The footage looks grainy in that almost artificial way that seems to be one of those throwback filters that are all the rage these days. The winner of the Triad Challenge, the scarred Scot Bruce McLeod sits calmly with his back against a concrete wall covered in graffiti. In the distance, cars can be heard roaring by. He looks a bit more presentable than usual, his hair slicked back and his goatee neatly trimmed although his eyes give him away, the bag underneath a bit more prominent than usual, as if he's exhausted. He smirks, that crooked smile showing off a dimple in his scarred cheek before he speaks, voice slightly raised to be heard above the din of traffic.
Bruce McLeod: Hello Sierra. Hello Morgan. Am sure you two will excuse the intrusion here. Wanted tae be in the audience tonight, to witness what's sure to be a hell of a row. The universe an' my own ineptitude at keeping track of my social calendar means I can't. There in spirit though, aye?
He pauses, cocking his head slightly as that smile grows wider.
Bruce McLeod: So many things've happened for this fella since ye seen me last. So many crazy, wild an' wonderful things. Chasin' Glory has returned like a phoenix from the ashes. Warped reopened its doors, has put on two spectacular shows from its warehouse in Wichita – ach, see… not here tae hype my career, though. Not here tae brag about the wins.
He shakes his head, his dark eyes more troubled than usual.
Bruce McLeod: I can't. I won't.
He chuckles softly.
Bruce McLeod: Tonight's not about this fella. It's about a showcase of talent. It's about a celebration of a record-breaking reign for Miss Silver an' the possibility of that all coming to an end when she steps up against a woman I know's quite capable of hurricane-level destruction…
He hesitates, lifting his hand up and rubbing it across his mouth.
Bruce McLeod: A part of me hopes she's got yer number, Morgan – hope that doesn't strike the wrong way. No harm meant. No slight against yer talent… none whatsoever. Everyone's seen how formidable you can be. But that streak… unseating this so-called Super Villain In Training… feel like that's something that should fall to a hero. Should fall to someone who's paid their dues, who's earned their stripes an' knows from observing how so many others've fallen, just what makes a good champion.
He sighs.
Bruce McLeod: Give it yer all, Morgan. I'll be watching.
Pulling himself to his feet, the camera follows and pulls out slightly to reveal that he's actually standing on an overpass bridge above several lanes of traffic. Off in the distance, the Empire State Building is visible, making his location clear. He leans on the metal grating that's meant to prevent trash from being thrown down on the cars below, hooking his fingers through the rusted metal as the camera continues to roll on him from behind while he looks down over the view.
Bruce McLeod: 2020 is the year it all pays off. It's the year I finally get to see the fruits of all this damnable labour. Doesn't matter who wins out there tonight.
He chuckles again and then turns back to the camera with a grim smile on his face.
Bruce McLeod: Next one's gonna be mine.