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Jan 1, 1970
(FADEIN: A rapid-fire selection of highlights including TEDDY ALEXANDER trying to break LEYENDA DE OCHO's neck across the ringsteps at RANDOM RUMBLE 2014, various shots of the BRAWLSTRALIA FANFEST and side-passenger window shots of highway roads stream across the screen as 'HANG YOU FROM THE HEAVENS' - THE DEAD WEATHER blasts out of the speakers. . .)

NATRONE RICE V/O: "AWWWWWWWW YEAH, T-NINETY FIIIIIIIIVE in WICHITAHHHHHHH! This is Natrone Rice of the NFW BRAWL reminding you that we want all the REAL ROCK N' ROLL FANS out at the INTRUST BANK ARENA 'cause you better believe it's gonna get HOT 'n NASTY! You heard about the NINE-MAN tag main event, but if you don't know how the NFW ROLLS you better believe there's gonna be more than a few more ROCKERS! Check out Ticktmaster online or NFDUB DOT COM to get on in the first stop on the ROAD TO FUTURESHOCK 2!"



(FADEIN: The late-day sun lays low and hidden behind 'THE WOLF' MIKE RANDALLS and JJ DEVILLE as 'SNAKES in the GRASS' - THE BLACK ANGELS lightly plays in the background. As the setting sun sends red rays streaking across the indigo sky backdrop, a shirtless RANDALLS stands center in the frame, the athletic tape wrapped around his fists and feet are bloodied, torn and shredded nearly as much as the fragmented and jaggedly shattered wooden posts in the makeshift desert training courtyard behind both men. RANDALLS is wearing black drawstring pants with red trim, but more curiously to the side is JJ DEVILLE with his mouth taped up and the words "I'M SORRY" scrawled in black marker across the tape. Otherwise, DEVILLE looks somewhat normal with his blonde ponytail pulled back tight, a white t-shirt reading "STAND UP 2 CANCER," red mesh shorts and navy Adidas sandals. RANDALLS' head rises slightly as his green eyes peer through his sweaty auburn hair, his wooly beard matted from dirt, dust and sweat. . .)

RANDALLS: "They say that when we go, we're supposed to go out on our back. One year ago, the man beside me orchestrated an attack with that very intention and cause. An attempt to sever my body and mind, a moment meant to define an alliance that would stand on the ashes of two legends. A deal struck to survive the inevitable loss of a personal hero and platform to superstardom. . ."

(RANDALLS looks back at DEVILLE, who maintains a focused glare towards the camera in front of both men. RANDALLS looks back towards the camera with an expressionless face.)

RANDALLS: "The question isn't which of us had fallen harder, the question isn't which of us had fallen further. And the question certainly shouldn't be why we stand together. (RANDALLS smiles) Dorchester Stratton. . . Blaine Hollywood. . . anyone that chooses to stand between MYSELF and THEM. . . I would ask yourself what you are willing to RISK now that we have RISEN, I would ask what you are willing to try now that we have SURVIVED. We have no allegiance, we have no directive. We are as much outlaw as we are judgment, we are as much anarchist as we are soldiers. Our mission, our hunt is for the prodigal son. . . for the man who would be king. BLAINE. . . DORCHESTER. . . I am coming, I will not stop. A New Dawn has Risen and my day of VENGEANCE is coming.



(FADEIN: Brain-piercing ‘wub wub wub’ techno pumps through the speakers as DOUG MAYFIELD stands front and center in front of a CRIMSON STAR BACKDROP with both TOD DESTINY and CHAD FORTUNE flanking his sides. out in a fog - not caused by the NFW tech crew! DOUG'S wearing a sweat-ring soaked sweatshirt with cutoff sleeves, windsprint pants with a fannypack, Marty McFly-edition AIR YEEZY Nikes, and wraparound gargoyle shades! DESTINY and FORTUNE are wearing matching outfits that look like a cross out of Neo and Morpheus' closets - black shades, black leather and no grins. MAYFIELD slicks back his greasy mullet and smiles, looking up at the camera. . .)

MAYFIELD: "Y'know at RANDOM RUMBLE we didn't get the job done, but just like that time my big bro hunkered down in front of a Coleco hand-held back in '87, we are ready to TAKE DOWN KONG. More specifically, I'm talking about THE BLACK MARKET - sure Legion, you talk about keeping secrets, you talk about mastering chaos, but whatever they'll show on the big-screen this summer with Professor X and Magneto. . . THE FOOTURE, the ERA I YAM FROM. . . well a KONG DEMENTOR SENTINEL would still feel like dandelions blowin' in the wind compared to the SH(BLEEP!)T WE'VE SEEN! And don't think we don't hear all the chatter goin' on back in the locker room. . . shouldn't these guys have run outta here already, that's what happened every OTHER time. . . are these dudes really working PRO-BONO for that retarded douche's brother? YEAH, I CAN HEAR YOU ON THE PHONE KERRY KUROYAMMA-JAMMA!"

(DESTINY and FORTUNE roll their necks as DOUG tightly grasps his soda tab necklace, while grimacing his teeth. . .)

MAYFIELD: "Well, consider this TIME the leap we don't go home until we do the job. And that job is stopping the Black Market's reign and rise to power in the NEW FRONTIER, that job is PROTECTING THE PRESIDENT from the moment that will turn PLANET EARTH from peace and love into nightmares that'd make Luke Cage turn as white as Luke Wilson! And we're not expecting anyone to BELIEVE, we're not going to expect anyone to step aside and take us seriously. . . YET. But we're comin' to WICHITA, we're hitchhiking on the ROAD TO FUTURESHOCK. . . and we're gonna set the record straight, THE PAST AIN'T THE FOOTURE! NOT YET! NOT ON OUR WATCH. THE FOOTURE, I YAM FROM IT. . . and this summer that FOOTURE is about to change!"



(FADEIN: A shattered gas-mask on a pedestal under a lone spotlight. All that surrounds the shot is darkness as CANCER walks slowly into frame wearing a black flak jacket, no shirt underneath, black cargo pants and black military boots. There is no background music to accentuate 'THE PATRON SAINT OF VIOLENCE' as he methodically paces around the pedestal until he stands to the back of the gas-mask on the pedestal, the top of his scarred bald head accentuated by the lone spotlight.)

CANCER: "There are many that have thought my return is devoted to a single man because he stands on top of a mountain I believe to be my rightful place. But I am a forgotten soul, I am from a forgotten time and there are too many that don't remember what I once stood for. . . In the last ten years as I have gone through dozens of medical procedures and surgeries, I certainly devoted a focus to a man I helped bring into the NEW FRONTIER. However, all should rest assured that as we reach BALTIMORE, the place of my burning. . . that my purpose, my drive, my existence is much larger than simplistic revenge to a rookie that never said thank you to me ten years ago. My burning desire will not be quelled upon Castor Strife's broken body. My disease will not be cured upon Eddie Mayfield's lifeless corpse lying beside my feet in the center of a ring. My thirst for VIOLENCE is only aroused, but will only remain disappointed and punished until I see the face of my humiliation. It is not time to disclose that which requires the seal of secrecy, but at Wichita. . . I will begin my true purpose. Between the suffering and the will, which torture where they cannot kill. . . I shall escape the misery of these chains. The deaf tyranny of fate, the ruling principle of hate, my disease will continue to annihilate the New Frontier until it's God comes home to face me. . . his wretched creation."

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