Winner via Pinfall: ‘Cactus Jack’ Bronson
Back at the announce table, Nico has a look of amazement on his face as Brick is onto his third sandwich of the evening.
“I honestly thought we were going to see someone get killed in there. Both Reinhardt and Bronson are ‘unstable’ at best and I’m pretty sure, had that match gone on any further, that we would be driving Dahl’s body out into the desert to rest in a shallow grave.”
“Ha! Like Casino!” Brick says, between bites.
“Yes. Like Casino, Brick.” Nico shakes his head, hating his new ‘position’, “It’s got to be frustrating for Reinhardt, but unfortunately, in a triple threat situation, you don’t have to be pinned to lose. Although, I have this sneaking suspicion that we haven’t seen the last of Bronson and Reinhardt trying to kill each other.”
“There weren’t any chicks in that match, so it didn’t really do much for me. I thought it was cool when the cheese grater got involved, but that just made me hungry for nachos and they don’t have any at craft services. So now, not only do I not have nachos, but I’m sad too.”
“The world cries for you Brick, now we’re going to catch up with Union Division hopeful, Alyssa Daniels.”
Brick starts to choke on his sandwich, but Nico just drives a hard slap into Brick’s back as he maintains his toothy white smile.
The fountain stands majestically in a path not far from the mansion. Water squirts down into the pool below, color-changing lights shining through it to create a beautiful effect. Fight Union competitor Alyssa Daniels steps up to the fountain and admires the design for a moment.
“This place is gorgeous,” she says as her eyes reflect the colored light.
She reaches into a pocket and withdraws a penny. She looks down at it, smiles, then looks up to the fountain. With a flick of her thumb, the penny spins into the air and down into the water with a small ‘sploosh.’
"Hey, you fragile fucking bitch," a slurred voice calls out from behind Alyssa.
Startled, she whips around to face the source of the noise.
"Excuse me?" she asks in offense.
The man approaches wearing a crisp suit and smelling strongly of booze. He staggers toward her, his hand up and finger out. His intoxication cleared his inhibitions and turned him into an obvious angry drunk.
"You heard me, woman!"
Alyssa, her face twisted in disgust, just stares at the man unsure of how to react. He continues his approach unabated.
“Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes over here,” he slurred. “What the fuck is the point of you being here?”
“I don’t know, to wrestle?” she responds with uncertainty of where he’s going with this.
“Wrestle? Fuck that. Nobody here cares about wrestling. We just wanna see you animals get bloodied, maybe throw somebody off some shit.”
He steps onto the cobblestone design surrounding the fountain.
“You don’t belong here, wrestler,” he mocks. “Why don’t you drag your happy ass to a corner and make some real money?”
He’s getting dangerously close to Alyssa now. As he does, Alyssa’s stance changes very subtly. Something in the shoulders maybe? Though she still appears as relaxed as ever, you can tell she’s ready to strike if Mr. Jagermeister gets too confident.
But he doesn’t get that opportunity.
As he approaches her, malice in his bloodshot eyes, a hand shoots out palm-first and impacts him in the chest. For a sober person, it would knock them back a few steps and get their attention. This guy though? He was nowhere near sober. He stumbles and trips over his own feet, falling dramatically to the ground.
“Hey! What the fuck--”
“Cool the jets, Johnny Too Drunk,” a deep male voice warns.
Alyssa looks around to see her father, Keith Daniels, standing by her side. He watches the drunk closely as he attempts to get back to his feet.
“You wanna throw down, motherfucker?” the drunk asks, still not upright enough to see the source of the blow.
But he does manage to pull himself back up and see the man who delivered it. All six-foot-ten, three-hundred and forty-six pounds of him. The inhibition of alcohol ain’t eatin’ through that. Due to his drunken state, the thoughts that run through his mind can be easily determined by his changing facial expressions. Surprise. Fear. Anger. Doubt. Embarrassment. Anger again. Fear. Uncertainty.
“Do you know who I am?” he finally settles on saying.
“Some punk bitch who’s gonna wake up in the hospital tomorrow with much more than a hangover?”
“You can’t talk to me that way!” he shouts in fearful defiance.
He staggers backward as he flinches away from the man in front of him. Keith Daniels doesn’t move. He glares at the man with the posture of a predator preparing to deliver the killing blow to his prey.
“I’ll see you pay for this!” the man shouts as he continues to back away, unwilling to pursue this particular confrontation further. Once he’s a sufficient distance away to be certain he won’t be coming back, Alyssa turns to face her father fully.
“What are you doing here?”
“What?” he asks with a smile. “Think I was gonna miss my little girl’s first flagship title shot?”
Alyssa narrows her eyes.
“I’m not really your little girl anymore.”
Keith chuckles.
“Of course not. You’ve taken to this sport exceptionally well. It’s almost like it’s in your blood or something.”
“No,” Alyssa states firmly. “I’ve studied this sport for years, done everything I can to keep my body in peak physical condition. If my blood has anything to do with this, it’s the low LCL, the high HCL, and minimizing triglycerides.”
Her father looks at her blankly. It seems clear he didn’t expect that kind of bite back.
“Dear, I--”
“I know,” Alyssa interjects. “I know you’re just trying to be supportive, but it’s important to make this distinction. This is my career. This isn’t a continuation of your legacy. When I got my last name legally changed back to Daniels, it wasn’t because I wanted to be ‘one of the family.’ It was personal inspiration, a reminder of the responsibility I have to myself and to my own legacy, whatever it may be. It was a reminder of what Mom sacrificed for me to still be here and what I ran from when I saw her...”
Alyssa trails off as she chokes up slightly. Respectfully, Keith doesn’t speak. He waits patiently for her to continue.
“There’s a separation between Keith and Seth Daniels...”
Beat.
“And Alyssa Daniels. I’m not like either of you. You liked punishing opponents into mental, emotional, then physical submission. Seth loves violence, loves causing it, feeling it, and watching it. I’m here to compete. I want to face the toughest adversity I can find, then overcome it. Maybe it’s skillful. Maybe it’s violent. But the most important thing is that I keep fighting and always find a way to overcome even the most difficult of obstacles.”
She pauses. Keith patiently allows her the moment.
“Your book is closed. This is my story now.”
Keith nods in understanding. Pride and sadness shine out from the small smile on his face as he looks into his daughter’s eyes.
“I get it,” he says as he nods. “I’ll try to stop treating you like you’re my little creation and give you the respect and autonomy you deserve. Regardless, I’m proud of you.”
Alyssa smiles.
“Thank you, dad,” she says before turning away. “But now, I’ve got to get ready for my match. Hopefully just my first match.”
“Indeed. I’ll be watching.”
Almost in an instant, Hamilton and Khalid join forces to go after the much larger Omertà. They both push him into a corner and go at him with kicks and strikes. The much larger man seems to be in trouble until he finally works up the strength to push both Khalid and Hamilton back. Khalid takes a big Omertà sized boot to the face and Hamilton gets a reverse chokeslam out of the deal.
As if he were Goliath, Omertà is standing tall over his downed opponents, much to the pleasure of the crowd. Omertà pulls his opponents so that they’re side by side and proceeds to drop a huge leg drop across both of their throats.
Now Omertà is in control.
He calls to the crowd for a weapon and someone tosses him a steel chair. He’s happy with