WOTW | OSAKA REBELS vs DEAD CUTE vs HCSDS vs 2HIGHKRU

Crickets chirping off in the distance, mixed with the hustle and bustle of city that blared on miles away., we find ourselves on the fox river, in Elgin, Illinois. The camera is away aways, at first. Showing the grand spectacle of lights that was the Grand Victoria Casino, which in itself was a old riverboat remodeled to be a casino. A throwback to those old times, them prohibition days where gangsters and those who worked in the shadows ran the state of Illinois. The camera slowly fades to the interior of the casino, which had that same old world rich vibe to it. It’s there that we find Flash Kassidy and Jay Sinclair making their way through aisle, surrounded by line after line of slot machines and other assorted game booths.

Jay was dressed in a zoot suit that would of had Al Capone jealous, a dark black suit with deep purple pinstripes - with a fedora to accompany it. In Contrast, Flash was dressed in a white dress shirt that wasn't buttoned, a pair of black dress pants all but hanging off his ass. A dark purple belt with a diamond encrusted, pot leaf belt buckle was loosely tied around his waist. Both gentlemen wore matching pairs of gold framed, purple tinted aviators. As they walked through the casino's topdeck it was clear that they knew the camera was watching. Flash taking a second to lower his shades and grin - the lights glistening off the gems on his grill.

“ So this it huh? This War of the Worlds, the night where the best tag-team inside a Union ring will be decided. And I’m home baby, I’m fuckin home! Illinois, the place where a dude like me was born and raised, the place where I pulled myself out of poverty, looked past the drug addiction, the epidemic that rages in the heartland of Illinois… I rised above it, made a name fo’ myself…But I swear, when I look at the peoples we facin’, the names, the clout… It got me wonderin’ what the fuck y’all doin’ here? Like y’all ain’t got enough? Lisa Seldon, Josh Kennedy, Anastasia Hayden, Hanako Takeuchi, Fallon Lockheart, and Masatake Kawamata. Them names alone bring in the fuckin’ money don’t they? All these deathmatch wrestlers, famous tag-teams, famous wrestlers! The very best of our industry… They ain’t think much of me and Jay boy, in fact I’d speculates that they gonna play us down. They gon’ talk about our lack of acclaim, but you ask any Union Battleground fan who the fuck the heart of Union has been fo’ the last year… They gon’ chant Flash Kassidy, they gon’ Chant Two High Kru… Me and Jayzy-Way, may be the underdogs, but y’all comin’ into our turf, my turf…”

Jay continues Flash’s thought, grabbing the camera by the lens and pulling it around to his side

“And we protect our territory just like we protect our necks. What all ya'll doin now, is just takin’ part in the formality of it all. Every name on the list has gotten themselves that VIP status, added some spice to their name, built a rep, and held it down. But, you didn't do that shit overnight did you? Nah, see, you hadda hustle like we doin’ now. We know what the come up is like, we've tasted that sweet juice before. But War of the Worlds, that drink is gonna be laced with championship victory. Shot after shot after shot, until we fucked up off that hunnit proof into a stumble that'll make a seizure victim look like they crip walkin’. We want that, we need that, and it's gonna happen by beating some of the top names in this business. Look to your left, your right, behind you, and in front, and you'll see us coming for you. The bets are being placed, and word on the Chiraq streets is that Two High Kru is gonna make errbody rich on the filthiest level possible.”

As Jay says that last sentence, the Kru busts through two saloon looking doors - making their way onto the balcony of the riverboat. Off in the distance, through the neon lights you could see the moon shimmering on the chilling waters of the Fox River. Set out before Flash and Jay, is a roulette table - with very alluring redhead running the table. As Flash and Jay approach said table, Jay throws out a stack of hundreds, looking to get chipped up. This roulette table wasn't like most however, instead of numbers there are names. A majority of the table was marked with Osaka Rebels, Dead Cute, and Hellcat Spangled Death Squad. But right in the middle was a spot for Two High Kru, the Roulette wheel followed in suit, having just a small portion given off to the highest men inside a Union ring.

The women behind the table hands Jay his chips, as Flash grabbed a bottle of rather expensive looking champagne off of a sterling silver platter - that was being held by one of the hostess. He tips the bottle up and pours a good amount of the bubbly down his throat before pulling it away with a “Raah!” Then as he places the bottle down on the edge of the Roulette table, looking back up and into the camera - a arrogant, if not charismatic smirk peeking out through his hair which covered his face.

“In the Windy City, you got to keep yo head up, always be on the lookout. Cause this whole place was built on corruption. Pimps sellin’ girls to high profile businessmen, to the crack dealer just tryin’ to get by! This is a city where it pays to be under the fuckin’ bar, to be high above the competition. Always be lookin’ forward, while watchin; yo back at the same time. Which is hard to do when you tryin’ to take the world over. All these teams, they everywhere, doin’ everything. Sure they want this now, but will they want it after the fact? I don’ think so. But me and Jay here, we in the Kru. He ain’t come in here not knowin’ that I was Union fo’ life. Just like Al Capone bringing in his brothers back in the day to help him run shit, I’ve done the same! Because Union is my home! And I ain’t trust no one like I trust my brotha to have my back while takin’ it over. “

Jay arrogantly takes a stack of chips and let's them drop one by one, adding extra sound effects of gun shots as he does.

“Ratta tat tat, bitches and fellas. War of the Worlds is going to be our St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Round after round puttin’ every last person down, leaving our mark in history as we become the Battalion Champs. Two of the most hated, disrespectful, talented mufuckas around. Like Pac and Snoop, 2 of Amerikas Most Wanted, this ain't nothin’ but a gangsta party. Lisa Seldon and Ana Hayden, arguably the most decorated of em all. We won't be treatin’ you two like the prolifics people be seein’ you as. From Southside to 4CW and everywhere else you two have put it down at, we will halt all momentum and come out lookin’ like a cool mil at the end. Just names with faces, nothin’ more, we don't give a fuck about any rep but our own and the one we make for ourselves by comin’ out on top.”

As Jay and Flash speak, a crowd starts to circulate the table, other gamblers looking to make some easy money. As they circle around the table the chips begin to be placed, high stacks going towards Dead Cute and HSDS, and a medium one piled up on Osaka Rebels. But the 2High marker remained empty, that is until Flash and Jay put all their chips on the spot, betting it all on themselves. As the host makes the announcement that this was the final bet, she begins to spin the roulette wheel. The camera pans back around to Flash, who removes his aviators and lets them hang from the pocket on his shirt. Then from that same pocket he pulls out a golden, mid-30’s looking cigarette case. As he pops it open, the intense scent of marijuana permeates throughout the deck.

Flash removes two hand rolled joints from the case before closing it, he then taps the bottom of said joints on the case before placing it back into his pocket. He places the joints in between his lips and gives a look to the women running the table, winking at her a little bit before leaning over the table.

“ Get a light sunshine? “

The women chuckles softly to herself, trying to hide the face that she was blushing as he pulled a lighter out from her pocket - lighting the joints for Flash. Flash takes a few big puffs off of both before passing one over to Jay and looking back into the camera. He pushes his hair out from his face, and lets the joint rest in his lips as he speaks.

“ Sleep on us… See what happen, don’t give us our just dues? See what happen… Jay right this ain’t about who got the biggest rep, who got the biggest dick - cause well we all know that be ya’ boy Flash MA’ FUCKIN’ Kassidy… But that ish ain’t the fuckin’ point, it don’t matter who you woulda put against us, coulda been them Outliers fo’ all we give a shit, cause in our mind this all gonna play out the same way. AIn’t time to worry about who more experienced, who has proved theyselves and who hasen’t! Because The Kru is out ta’ kill, we ain’t just gonna lay back and let this moment we created go to waste. Love can’t do it, friendship can’t do it, we ain’t comin’ in here like it’s some sort of bonding experience! We comin’ in here fo’ them Union Battleground Battalion championships! “

Jay takes a quick two hits and adjusts his hat slightly, as if getting the perfect angle of it on his head before posing for a few selfies with the crowd congregated around them.

“Let's talk about it, too. What happens when we take them straps and rock them bitches? Instant increase in value. The Battalion titles become more appealing, more fun, and guess what? Mufuckas will actually remember that they exist, dawg! How bout that shit? They won't just be an accessory, they become the centerpiece. Won, kept, and defended in pristine condition, bruh. You think Josh and Fallon gonna rep that shit like we will? Hell nah, they'll probably drench that shit in tears and emo episode blood or some shit. Just cuz you fuckin’ don't mean you have teamwork. I came into this business and won tag titles, you think I don't know how to finesse makeshift and significant other teams? I made that shit fashionable in Empire. Union isn't gonna be anything except greater than anything I done before. And I have the the fuckin’ Don of Union, Flash, right with me. We are leadin’ this shit to the future.”

“WINNER 2HIGHKRU!” Announces the women from behind the table, as the ball had finally hit its mark. It had landed on the 2HighKru spot, the smallest on the wheel. The crowd around them gives out a displeasured moan, having just lost a substantial amount of money to the Kru, but Flash and Jay acted as if they knew it was going to happen. Their aura was that of nonchalant, as if the whole world was a oyster just waiting to get slurped down. “Let the motha’ fucka’ ride!” spouts Jay as, the rest of table begin to make their bets. Flash takes another drag off of his joint, which had been smoked down to a roach, before flicking it off the edge of the deck, into the cold water below.

“ The future, man oh man it’s comin’ soon. So yeah, guess we should talk about it. Because they ain’t a doubt in my mind that we ain’t walkin’ out with that bling. What’a’bout you Jay Boy?”

Flash taps on the shoulder of Jay, who was flirtin’ with one of the rich girls in one of them skimpy little dresses that always flock to money. Jay looks back into the camera but only for a split moment.

“Not a damn doubt!”

He then returns his attention back to the girl, as the final bets are announced and Flash returns to speaking.

“ That’s what my thinkin’ was bruh, that we ain’t walkin’ out of this match until we gets what we came fo’! We ain’t spooked by all the deathmatch wrestlers in there, all of them big ol’ spooky ookies. Cause you all know I been dealin’ with folk like them since day one in Union! I done been to the monster mountain, and I came back fresher than a ma’ fucka! Ya’ feel me? So they can bring they weapons, they brutality! But we gonna’ bring the ruckus! And you all gonna’ learn that 2 High Kru ain’t nothin’ ta fuck wit! “

The roulette wheel begins to spin once again, as the camera pans back over to Jay. Definitely feeling his own vibe, Jay flicks his gold rope chain and confidently smiles, showing his pearly whites to the cameras.

“Have never been and will never be ones to fuck with. Individually talented, unified unstoppable. Just like we doin’ now, it's gonna be a 2 High Kruise to the titles, in front of ten thousand crazy ass people in Chicago. Family, friends, homies, groupies, it's a come one come all to watch us take the throne to a new level. Once we take those belts, we will become the most celebrated champions in Union history. Nobody brings the flava like we do, nobody has the sense of the streets and skill in the ring. To do whatever it takes to achieve the goal, that's how we operate. You saw it with Neo Tokyo, you'll see it ar War of the Worlds. The 2 High Nation will stand up, put their hands on their chests, and pledge allegiance to the swag. Four teams, two titles, two men stand tall at the end of the night.”

Acting out his own words, Jay stands up tall and places his hand over his chest just before flicking his roach, with the crowd and Flash following along with him.

“I pledge allegiance, to the swag, of 2 High Kru, Most Hated in America, and to the titles for which we win, six beat downs, on God, undoubtable, with blunts and fine bitches for all.”

An animated fist bump and laugh follows by the future Battalion Champions, who relax back in their normal, carefree demeanor again as the wheel finishes its spin.

“Anybody wanna bet against us now? You? You? How about you? Nah… yeah I figured. Everyone in here knows what's up, Union knows what's up. Chicago is gonna open their arms to us like cousins at the cookout, then see us off with our to go plates. We eatin’ good over here, and these others teams are gonna be left starvin’ like a hobo with a styrofoam cup.”

With the roulette wheel once again landing on 2 High Kru, what once was a fairly large pile of chips becomes rather unruly spilling out onto the other spaces.

“Time ta’ Cash out.” Says Flash, as the hostess of the table takes all their chips and starts to hand out stacks of money - more than triple of what they had originally invested. Jay opens up his suit suit jacket and begins to stuff the stacks into his coat pocket, as the camera lowly sways over to Flash - like a boat on the ocean. At some point in time, Flash had lighten up another joint - chain smoking em’ some might call it. He takes a few good puffs, pinching it in between his fingers before pulling it away and blowing perfectly circular smoke clouds up into atmosphere. He then passes it to the hostess, giving her another little wink and holding up a finger telling her to wait a second, before returning his gaze back to the camera.

“ Them facts don’t lie, the game ain’t play no tricks on you! When it just comes down to it, you only gots one option! And that’s always bet on. “

Flash holds two crooked fingers up to the camera, before it pans over to the hostess who blows smoke into the lens, clouding it up as it continues to pan over to Jay with a stack of cash in hand. Jay grins ear to ear as he stares at the cash, before his eyes slowly rise up to the camera.

“Kru.”

Cut to black.

Tonight she comes to us from atop a ladder.

Let me explain.

Back when this match was first announced, lisa got it into her head that this was going to be a ladder match. No idea why. Nobody told her it was a ladder match. Nobody put it on a poster or announced it into the show. She just got it in her head they were doing one and now she's up there like the least practical looking window cleaner, absolutely trying to own it.

Incidentally, the match she was actually thinking about was one in New Japan Fighting Championship. Back then her and Anna couldn't even get through the qualifier. Now they were DTW tag champions together. Funny how things work out.

“In the lead up to this match, the man behind the curtain made a joke about how I had given up my shot at becoming the face of this company to concentrate on it. In response I had a whole big bit on that, but it wasn’t so much entertaining as it was dry, factual and boring. Which is honestly more Kennedy’s thing and I wouldn’t want to take anymore from him than I have already.

One trophy and one title defence over the Deathmatch Ace the last couple times out. But hey, who’s counting.”

She shrugs that one off.

“So I scrapped it, and found myself with nothing to say. It was the darkest fourteen seconds of my life.”

An overly dramatic shiver passes through her.

“I was pawing away at one garbage take after another, hoping to pull a nugget of gold from the piles of shit I was digging up. I was getting nowhere and having no fun doing it. This is the best job in the world when it’s going well. But when it’s not, it can really grind you down.

That’s when Ana stepped in. She said to me: Lisa, you’ve got a razor sharp wit that none of these other teams have. I’m confident in you, whatever you might pull out, because I know you’ve got this. Then she slapped me across the cheek, told me never to disappoint her like that again and kissed me dead on the mouth. Tasted like salt and antidepressants.

Then she went on to describe what she was going to talk about. Such topics as being really good at stuff and shit history. I love that dumb cunt.”

She smiles to herself. Shakes her head.

“It’s important to have someone to rely on in this job and my tag team partner is a rock. Sure she’s a terrible human being who I once saw kick a cup of change away from a homeless person before calling them shit billy no job, but I know I can always count on her, whether in the ring or out.

She has earned her reputation in this sport. She has climbed our highest peaks, won over our most miserable synics and done so while never losing her appetite and remaining bionically absurd.

She is a great amongst greats. And together we have torn up and rebuilt entire divisions in the same time it’s taken most of our competition to settle on a name. Which I guess is still one better than us, but let’s get into it.”

I suppose the plus side to a scene like this is that, without the internal monologue calling her out, it looks like she probably got this whole ladder thing set up on purposes. Probably some very clever symbolism. Sure she plays the idiot online, but it’s clearly hiding a secret.

The secret, sadly, is that she is actually an idiot.

“While Dead Cute were working on their haha, booboo, cutey-pop bullshit - while completely missing out on the open goal that was Peanut Butter and Skelly - we were running through the best and brightest of the Rose City tag division. While 2 High Kru were mourning the death of white dude dreadlocks and not being allowed to say the N-Word in public anymore, even if it’s part of a song, we were steamrolling competition on route to the Southside Wrestling Tag Tournament final.

And while the Osaka Rebels were stacking up bullshit defences against the likes of shitty Blood Galaxy - who get mad at people cutting promos and talking-up their own work because they’ve never done anything in their lives worth bragging about - we were setting up and putting a name down here in the place where those belts are actually supposed to matter.

We have done what we can to make our mark in every tag division we’ve passed through, and it’s for nights like these that we do it.”

She leans back for a pause on that one. Then stops when she remembers there is no back when the ladder judders uncomfortably beneath her.

“Gunner Graves wants to say I gave up my chance to be the face of this company. After War of the Worlds I’d invite him to look again.

In one of the biggest shows of the year and against the best you could call down, we will be the only ones left standing tall at the end of it. One more win to our name, one more set of belts to the good, and one more show in which we reign without equals.”

She holds out her arms, both to accent her point and maintain her balance.

“Dead Cute are out here spinning nonsense about how they’ve been refining their style as a tag team - for months, apparently. I mean, neither of them thought to do it in a fucking tag match or anything. Which is weird because I can’t move for tripping over another division begging for literally any two people who happen to share a name, so it’s not like they wouldn’t have been able to get a chance.

The real truth is they just want to talk a game without having to put down the miles. They don't have the record, they don't have the experience and they're going to find out there's a whole lot more to tag wrestling than being able to say you've fingered your partner at least one time.

And the same goes for 2 High Kru.”

Lisa hits the breaks on that one and gags, deeply regretting getting caught on that analogy.

“They’re going to talking about how they’re going to cut us all up, records be damned. And why? Because one of them means well and the other had a tag title like seventy years ago. Like that isn’t the same shit we got from Rachelle and Camila. One of whom is not literally dead.

I forget which. The blonde one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because we scattered her ashes across the ring and unwrote her from history like that one Famous Five book where they all beat the Pope to death with sticks.

And anyway, like Flash would even be dragging this poor doped up loser into this mess if he hadn’t already blown his shot at the world title and needed something else to live for.”

She claps her hands punctuate her next turn.

“Then finally it’s the Osaka Rebels, waving around the belts they’ve done fuck all for. Like an absentee father drinking Beefeater Gin out of his Worlds Greatest Dad mug while refusing to cover his child support because the kid hasn't earned it.

I will fully accept the Osaka Rebel’s position as the one other team in this showcase who have at least won themselves a pot to piss in, but they have done nothing for this place as champions.

Two defences to their name, neither on a Union show, neither even against a team who’ve had a sniff at a contract. There’s a lot of deadweight in the Union locker room, clearly just here to cash a paycheck, but at least most of them basic decency to turn up to the arena and get it in person.”

She drops a tut.

“I won’t talk shit on their record, they’re one of the best teams out there, albeit arguably having been able to build their rep without a great deal of competition, but they’re going to do so much more for this company with their name in a record book than they ever did holding back those belts.”

Again we pause. Lisa lowering herself to us; hands clasped in her lap as she leans to the camera about as well as she can in the circumstances.

“So there, that’s my thoughts on our competition. All of whom are going to make real solid contenders to our titles if any of them decide to stick this out. But this time around none of them have a snowball's chance in the Devil’s sauna on a particularly sunny afternoon in mid July.

We might not have been doing this as long as some teams, but we’ve always been doing it better.”

At that we move back as she begins to step down the ladder. One slow, confident footfall at a time.

“In Ana Hayden I have a tag team partner like no other. Eleven tag titles across my career and I can think of only one other person I’ve ever gelled with as well.

Our opponents have their bonds. They’re couples, friends, winners in their own right. They’ve at least done enough to earn a spot in this match and I can take nothing away from that; but there’s a reason we’re the hot shit conversation anytime anyone wants to talk up a tag team and it’s not just because we’re loud, obnoxious and annoying.”

She very quickly shakes that thought away.

“In spite of that, as the Hellcat Spangled Death Squad, we have proven undeniable. Unbeatable. We have left a trail of mashed up corpses from here to Japan, back where we were annihilating cunts before we were even on a first name basis.

We have taken the fight from every team we’ve faced and these three are just the next in line. And in that we’re going to give Union Battleground, a place that has quickly become quite special to me, the tag team champions it thoroughly deserves.

See who they’re calling the faces of this company then.”

After what feels like an hour, she lands on the ground with a gentle bounce, shoots us a wink and, steps past the camera out of shot.