Fading in from static, we’re immediately greeted with the presence of Noah Reigner and “Rumble” Reyes. They stood in what looked to be a lobby of a church, or hall of some type. Standing in front of a set of wooden double doors with a silver push-bar to use for entry. A sign stood by with the days date and the words “Cortez Wedding” spelled out on the board. Both Noah and Rumble wore dress pants, but they were without the jacket and tie. Noah’s shirt was half tucked in, half out. The top few buttons unbuttoned and the sleeves sloppily rolled up to his elbows. A smirk crosses his lips just before he began to speak.
“Weddings. It’s that special time when two people agree to be a part of each other’s lives forever. It’s symbolic and is identical to being a tag team. You agree to form an alliance with someone, a partnership, and together it’s you against the world. You form a bond that will be tested overtime, and if it’s strong enough then the partnership will flourish and all of the doubts anyone has ever had about the two of you will vanish. That, or they’ll just take and place bets for the next series of unfortunate events to happen - hoping that it shatters your partnership.”
Noah paused momentarily. His head turned just slightly and he brought up his arm, motioning between him and Rumble as he continued..
“Rumble and I; we’ve had our doubters. Ashtyn Rave, Reece Crosslin, Aliyah Turner, Julian Cortez and Dick Devereaux and any of the teams that signed up to the Battalion tournament. Every team that was in those brackets, whether they faced us or not, saw our names - heard that we signed on to compete in the tournament with one one previous tag team match under our belts - and immediately doubted the authenticity of our tag team. Immediately doubted us, our talents - individually and as a team - and immediately doubted our desire to succeed in this company and as a tag team. But through perseverance, we emerged - shooting down every doubt and and team that stood in our way.”
While he spoke, he would still periodically motioned between himself and Rumble as he said words like “we” and “our”. But now, his eyes focused on the camera again and his hand dropped again.
“But, no matter that we made it all the way through the Battalion tournament. No matter that our careers have outlasted those who doubted us previously; the team of Noah Reigner and Rumble Reyes will always be looked at as “second place”. Why? Because cheap referees and coward champions. But no matter the obstacle that has stood in our way previously, we have overcome it - and I have no doubts that we will do that this time. The Outliers may have two victories over us, they may have played a better game than we have - but Rumble and I are nothing if not students of the game. I’ve played back the matches, studied every move. And other than putting the referees on our payroll, we have done everything right. We’ve out matched and out wrestled them on every turn. Speed, striking, power, technique. You name it, and we’ve matched - if not beaten them in every aspect. But it’s been their experience and underhand tactics have pulled the advantage to their end. But we’re not going away. Nothing they’ve done and nothing they can do will make us go away. Our eyes are on the Battalion championships, and they will be ours.”
His tone wasn’t arrogant like one would normally hear from Noah. No, today there was something else. It was not only confidence, but there was a hint of anger behind his words. He was tired of the games and cheap moves, we all know that. He reset before carrying on. All the while, Rumble remained silent and still like a stone at Noah’s side.
“That’s something that separates us from others. Desire. We’re determined to end all of this, once and for all. The sham and charade of a championship run by the Outliers has to come to an end. We’re a team that doesn’t need to pay off referees or anyone - that has the talent to hold the championships, and we will when we climb the ladder at Crown of the King Cobra. We’re going to climb the ladder and pull down the championships because, try as they might, they can’t pay off a ladder. They can’t weasel their way out of this match with another cheap win. Nah’. This time you have to beat your opponent’s down to the point where they are physically unable to climb the ladder to stop you. Blind referees won’t help you when Rumble powerbombs and slams your bodies onto and through ladders. Blind and careless officials won’t help when I knock teeth out of your skull with my knees. The last two meetings have left us with more than sour tastes in our mouths. It’s left us with nothing but rage, anger and hate. And with all of that, combined with the desire and determination to become Battalion champions, driving us - that makes us a deadly force at Crown of the King Cobra.”
His words were sharp. Meaningful. Impactful. His eyes were cold and narrowed on the camera. Rumble nodded his head in the background, agreeing with every word that Noah said. Noah was tense, but now he would relax and that smirk we’re used to seeing has come back.
“While you guys are focused on skating around the world - doing your stupid little kickflips and grinds on whatever surface in whatever city you’re currently in, competing in other companies - risking yourselves for injury the more you compete, and attempting you’re witty humor and insults; we’re training. We’re focusing on you, and only you. And furthermore? We’re burying the past. Everything from San Diego, to the controversial losses - everything. Whether it’s relationships or tag teams, every union has it’s past. Some are worse than others, and some leave lasting scars that you can never recover from. But you better believe that Rumble and I are putting everything in the past behind us. That process ends at Crown of the King Cobra when we capture the championships from you two. Beating you two is the final piece of it all. All we’re focused on now is the future, and I’ll tell ya’ - the future looks good for the Firing Squad.”
And there was that arrogance beginning to ‘shine’(?) through. Noah’s pause was, again, momentary before he was right back at it.
“We’re ready for whatever you have to bring. I have complete faith in myself, my partner and our bond. I know that we are able to beat the both of you. We’ve come so close twice before. There’s not going to be any more close though. At Crown of the King Cobra - we WILL beat you. Now that the playing field is level we have our perfect chance to finally dethrone the false kings of the Battalion division. The name is fitting. It’s a night for kings to be crowned - new kings in terms of the Battalion division.”
There was subtle hints of bass in his voice as he ended there. There was no doubting that he and Rumble were focused on becoming the new champions. They’ve had their chances and things didn’t go their way, but they ended in controversy. According to Noah, all of that is over..
“This union between Rumble and I is as solid as they come. We’ve silenced doubters and critics in the past, and we’re going to continue to do so. It’s a tired and worn out cliche, but they say third time’s the charm, right? We’re going to capitalize on this opportunity and close the door on everything that happened in the past. The blind, stupid and paid off refs are done. The championship reign of the Outliers is done. We will be the two men standing tall at the end of this match, having climbed the ladder and retrieved the championships. We will be the team that hoist the championships in the air and it will be crystal clear that we are, and always have been the better team. No controversy needed.”
Post by The Outliers on Mar 6, 2018 23:04:16 GMT -5
THE HOLI TERRORS
2. 3. 18 NEW DELHI, INDIA
It had been a frustrating couple of months for The Union Battleground Battalion Champions and they were counting down the days to Crown of the King Cobra. With the way last season drew to a close and everything that's come since, their reign had indeed been tainted. It was hard to argue. And it was a fact that didn't sit well with either of them.
Bored of the mire, The Outliers were beyond eager to settle up, to be able to end it once and for all. And this time they would leave nothing to debate. This time things would end with a vengeance that could Kill Bill.
But, there was time to kill until then, and India was exactly what The Outliers needed. The perfect opportunity to blow off steam. And what better time to decompress than during the cathartic celebration of Holi: a major festival in the Hindu religion that celebrates the victory of good over evil and the arrival of spring and harvests to come. It’s the festival of colors, emotions and happiness. It’s a day to celebrate and let go --loud music, local brews, and fun-filled chatter are all essential elements of the holiday. It’s also one day of the year when consuming cannabis is socially acceptable!
Everyone's gathered to march and sing songs, drink and smoke. People are throwing colored powder and water on friends and strangers, leaving the streets tie-dyed and the air hazy with clouds of rainbow dust and dope smoke.
Wandering the maze of nameless alleys in a working-class neighborhood somewhere outside New Delhi, The Outliers are drenched in paint, taking a moment to re-high-drate. They're sipping on a couple tall glasses of bhang--bud leaves that are crushed, mixed into drinks and sweets and traditionally distributed during the festival. Finding a moment of calm amongst the chaos..
GRIN: Drink it down, it always goes down smooth.
CORRUPTS: This bhang is God’s prasad--a holy blessing.
The pair clink their glasses together...
GRIN: No doubt. And everybody's drinking it like eggnog during Christmas.
CORRUPTS: India is wild y'all. Religious prostitution, street doctors that bleed the sickness out of you, elephant riders, armies of defiant monkeys.
GRIN: Yeah, spend about five minutes around here and you'll probably meet a monkey hanging above the entrance to a smoke shop attempting to insert its head up its own anus.
Eyes wide as he tips back the bhang juice until the glass glides away from his lips..
CORRUPTS: And we couldn't be more stoked to be here on a day like Holi, when the “upturning of social norms” is encouraged.. talk about a match made in Swarga Loka.. what a day to be an Outlier, huh, partner?
GRIN: What a day, indeed!
Sawtooth extends an arm, and looks behind him, showcasing the splendor.
GRIN: And what a spiritual mecca. Even this drink is imbued with a more spiritual meaning. It's not a drug, but rather an integral part of the Holi celebration -- just like the practice of people washing colors and, symbolically, their sins off their body.
CORRUPTS: Of course, being spiritual doesn't mean you're always positive.. sometimes you need to balance some negative energies. And before the festivities are in full swing, I think we need to exorcise a few demons of our own..
Just then, The team are blitzed with water balloons followed by paint right in their faces. The Outliers bring their hands held in prayer to their foreheads..
TOGETHER: Namaste.
Without batting an eye, the stream of consciousness continues..
GRIN: AND FIRST!! Let's take a look back at the finish that secured these guys another shot, shall we? Let's rewind, let's roll it back to February ninth, L!GHTS OUT Eighteen. Allow us to set the scene.
The Outliers huddle up, and when they finally break, HWC chugs his remaining THC spiked libation and takes center stage. Aiming for that very specific style and cadence of an old-timey radio sports commentator, Corrupts pinches his nose and begins speaking into the empty cup. Replicating that tinny, clipped tone with a high end nasally quality.
CORRUPTS: It was a BRISK night in Tokyo boys and ghouls! But for the Main Event inside the ol' Ryōgoku Sumo Hall — it was godamn SWELTERING!
Starting to lose it, Grin steps aside and puts his hood up in an attempt to conceal his laughter.
CORRUPTS: The challengers thought they were en route to victory as they attempted to set up their Rifle's Spiral when from left field, Sawtooth hits a superkick for the ages — perfectly placed, perfectly FUCKING timed!
Popping up from behind his partners shoulder, Sawtooth horns in.
GRIN: Ya gotta chin like Cinderellas slipper, BOI!
Moving in slow motion, Grin takes a swing with his imaginary bat.
GRIN: CRACK!!!
As Corrupts continues his colorful recount, he gets louder and more fervent.
CORRUPTS: REIGNER HITS THE DECK! Rumble abandons the Gory Special! And with all his might starts waddling straight toward Grin! He maintains his composure, instantly realizing that even with Reyes moving his absolute fastest, he's still slow as piss. Which affords him all the time in the world to come up with a viable escape option! AND HE MAKES HIS PLAY!! Taking full advantage of his superior ring awareness, Grin tugs the rope! AND THAT TUB OF BUTTER GOES SAILING INTO THE OUTFIELD! From there, for good measure, he adds insult to injury by following that up with a BEAAUUTTIIFULL crossbody that puts the fat man down!
With his eyes closed, reliving the encounter in vivid color, Grin smiles wide and throws a fist in the air.
CORRUPTS: It doesn't stop there, folks! Nuh-huh, no sir! We waste no time, and move in to seal it up! While Rumble was left pondering his inadequacy from the floor, his partner, still rocked from the superkick, staggers to the dead center of the fucking ring! We took to the skies! Simultaneous springboards off the top! ERASERHEAD!!
GRIN: ERASERHEAD!!
TOGETHER: ERASE-YOUR-FUCKING-HEAD!
The pair quickly share a proud, powerful embrace.
CORRUPTS: A CLUELESS RUMBLE LOOKS ON!! LAZY COVER!! THREE COUNT ON A LIFELESS REIGNER! AND STILLLLL!
GRIN: GOT-DAMN! That recap was spot on, bruh! Totally unbiased, and so completely accurate that it gave me goosebumps!
Grin lifts his arm eye level and facetiously encourages his partner to scope out the hair on end before getting back to business.
GRIN: Look it, nevermind I wasn't the legal man. Call it a lapse in judgement, call if whatever you want at this point. I guess we'll own it, we don't care. War doesn't determine who's right, it determines who's left. Corrupts was literally two feet away. What lights a fire under us is who wins the fight, and that's exactly what we did.. Did Reigner get up?!!
CORRUPTS: Negatory, good buddy.
GRIN: Nah, hell no. You coulda been wearing headgear and you still wouldn't have survived that sho -- and you didn't. We hit ya with our finisher and straight STARCHED your string bean ass. Point blank. You were out. Your situation was grim, and had the right man made the cover, the HEAVIER man, you wouldn't have seen any improvements. You two were down, and we had complete control of the match.
CORRUPTS: And ya know, maybe if that mouth-breathing pile of mashed potatoes you call a tag team partner wasn't so busy suffocating under his own girth, he mighta managed to help out. But, he couldn't have interrupted the count to save his life. Dude's literally dead weight. That lead ball that's chained to your ankle has kept you runnin' in circles. Up on twitter posting pictures of him sitting on people and shit.
HWC puffs his cheeks out and sways back and forth before rolling his eyes.
GRIN: And speaking of Twitter, what was all the "putting out feelers" bullshit about? And after all the times we had to sit through the whole--
Sawtooth breaks out into the robot.
GRIN: "We had them won, we were screwed, we're not going away" routine from you broken records? After all that big talk and you end up threatening to walk out of UB entirely--fleeing the wreckage of yet another failure -- only to turn around and use it as leverage to gain another shot? Who the fuck do you think you are?! Handled business a little backwards, no? Never occurred to you smart guys to possibly handle it in-house before sounding off on social media? Bit of a misfire, we'd say. Borne out of frustration no doubt, but it was a bitch move, to say the least. But I guess the squeaky wheel gets greased -- 'cause here you are. Looks like there wasn't anyone bangin' down doors to sign you two jag-offs.. and we're not surprised motherfuckers.
Grin shoves Corrupts, sharing a laugh over the Nate Diaz reference.
CORRUPTS: This will be the third consecutive time we've had the displeasure of squaring off against these bozos. We really don't have shit else to say. We know all we're ever gonna wanna know about'em, and said all we've needed to. A technicality got them here.
GRIN: Butttt, since this is what the bossman has decided, and because we're consummate professionals, here we are. Rolling it back. Again. For the whiningest tag team in all of Pro Wrestling.
CORRUPTS: 'Cept this time it'll be a ladder match, huh?
Their brows go up, and in unison, The Outliers look at each other; both throwing out "spooky fingers".
CORRUPTS: And this was at Noah's behest? Sheeiitt, we thought he was the smart one too. So much for that.
GRIN: If you thought you'd throw a ladder at us, and it'd throw us off, you fucked up. It's ERRONEOUS, I say! Maybe you thought since y'all spent a split second dickin' around in a Southern California warehouse tossin' chairs at each other, that this stipulation suited you? Has Rumble even been on a ladder before?! And if he has, how long did it take that sloppy gargantuan to get to the top!??! Far as we're concerned this just turned into a fuckin' handicap match! Another grievous blunder on your part, no doubt. And we're not gonna waste our time tryin' to figure out your thought process on it, cause chances are, it's as uncalculated as everything else you dude's do.
CORRUPTS: In fact, come to think of it, Had this been done at the tourney final or the rematch, we wouldn't be standing here -- stuck with you. We would've won and moved on. Just like everyone knew we would. You're under the misconception that incompetent officiating or "sleight of hand" has kept the titles from you. When in all actuality, it's rules and technicalities that have kept you in the conversation. But yeah, if you wanna strip some rules down, that's A-OKAY with us. Been there, done that, got all the t-shirts.
Throwing an arm around his beloved with a husky growl..
GRIN: Yuuup, we're good with it. We've been in just about every type of match under the sun. Ladder matches and brawls, you name it. I don't know what their shows are lookin' like these days, but GOL may well have been a deathmatch joint back in the day. All the shit they put us in was over-the-top extreme. Street fights, last team standing, cero miedo, ladder warfare, taco death matches, Lego death matches. And you can bet, every single one of 'em was a lot more vicious than they sound. And oh yeah, I also won Gods of War 2016, an eight man ladder match that eventually lead me to a world championship...
From the outside looking in, everyone thinks being champion is like being on a slide. Like you just climb up the ladder, get to the top of the slide and the rest is smooth sailin', wind in your hair. Allow us to shatter that illusion into a fine pink mist. Not only is it not a slide, it's never a slide. It's just the ladder. Now you know the slide is there and you know people think you're on it, but you're still just climbin' the fuckin' ladder. As a team who's never held a title--let alone two titles in two different sports simultaneously--I don't expect you to understand. But lemme reassure you: the man at the top of the mountain didn't fall there.
The air attaches itself to every fiber that flutters through it carrying clouds of color and hash haze that drift across the screen.
CORRUPTS: Now we don't expect you to care how far we've come.. or that we've been through more together than you could possibly imagine or even comprehend. All you see is success, but that's only the tip of the iceberg, fellas. You seem to forget all the risks, the sacrifices, hard work, discipline and persistence.. all the doubts, rejections, missteps and failures it took to get here. You can have talent and heart for days but experience is a motherfucker. You'll learn that. You've got a long road ahead of you.. it's gonna take time, but not our time.. In truth, you've only provided a means through which we can funnel our trauma, a way to soothe our suffering spirit until we reach the other side. Another set of bodies to step over as we make our final push. But our ascent isn't over. And neither is your perdition.. oh no.. you've got miles to go before you sleep. The ideals that have carried us so far.. cannot be stopped. And that means you're just blood under our fingernails on the way to the top.
And we hate to be the ones to dump another steamy stick of truth on your chest but..
GRIN: The real work is already done. The hardest thing isn't the match. It could last twenty-five minutes, an hour or till we finally collapse. Impose whatever restrictions or stipulations you want.. it doesn't matter. Pick your poison, spin the wheel. 'Cause the real fight is in the hours and hours spent over many years preparing for moments just like this--that's the hard part. The sacrifice of getting up for two-a-day conditioning drills and workout sessions. Knowing that you're in a continuous cycle of high intensity training--that's tough. Tough on the body, tough on the spirit. You know that you have to wake up and what's coming today is harder than what came yesterday. You learn that pain is not your enemy; it's your call to greatness. It's not an obstacle to avoid, just another challenge to overcome. You embrace it.. welcome it.. No pressure, no diamonds, right?
CORRUPTS: Enduring and giving everything you have is the real fight. If this is all you got then the hard work truly is done.. and that makes you easy work. Y'know there's plenty of people that don't give their all. And y'all leave a lot to be desired.. how good you all are at seeming good. Too bad good ain't gonna cut it. Compleigner.. you think you possess unrivaled "striking prowess"? Pshh. When you compete at a high level, against high-level opponents.. mixing it up with so many different styles and skills, you get a pretty good feel for who's got it and who don't. You only think you have ability 'cause my boy has yet to humble you. And you're in for a real treat 'cause he's got one of the most comprehensive striking skill sets around. Fight IQ off the charts, a GI Joe Kung Fu grip, mobility, explosiveness, finesse, footwork and power in both hands that make him practically insurmountable.
You think 'cause you "beat" Sass and Class that you "understand unique teams"? Are you fucking kidding? If they were a learning experience for you, consider us a complete mental breakdown. A manic journey through rage, relentless pain, paranoia.. your own personal slice of purgatory. We're like opening up the Necronomicon or falling into quicksand compared to those two. We're the only diamonds in a sea of glass. STRANGE STYLE, muh sons, accept no substitutes. Listen, if you’re trying to unravel the greatest enigma in wrestling, don't waste your time.. you'll go insane searching for answers to a mystery that has no solution. And if you insist on trying, you better dig a helluva lot deeper, Sherlock. Try using an electron microscope, not a magnifying glass from Fumble's Cracker Jack box.
GRIN: Tiring Squad.. you think you've "evolved"? Tisk, tisk, tisk. We were better at Coup de Grace, we were better at L!GHTS OUT Eighteen, and we're gonna be even better for Crown of the King Cobra. Levels, boys. Levels. We don't quit when things get tough.. we get stronger. Once you feel like you've given everything.. we're gonna give more. You evolve.. we evolve. You kill.. we overkill. You won't stop.. we can't stop.
If you want to make it to the top of the world in any profession then you have to be willing to put the work in and attack it. We both know what we want to accomplish here, and we won't take no for an answer. If anything gets in our way, including the Gods themselves--we'll bring the rapture.
CORRUPTS: And if by some miraculous turn of events, you finally manage to somehow best us, that's just the first rung on a new ladder in another arduous climb. Are you ready for the endless ladder? It's not one you climb from one predictable rung to the next, it's more like a broad rock face you free-climb without ropes. There’s no defined route, no safety net. The burden's on your back and the sun is in your eyes. It's a crucible. You gotta use your own ingenuity, instincts, and inner strength to rise to the top. Sometimes you'll have to make our own luck. 'Cause there's a shadow just behind you, shrouding every step you take. Everyone's gunnin' for you. And seeing how you can't even manage to hit your targets, you should be sweatin' bullets.
GRIN: You try and you try.. you hope and you hope, just wanting things to finally just settle, achieve some goddamn hard-fought equilibrium. But no. It always comes down to this. It always has to get dark, and ugly, and inhuman. We don't mind.. all will be resolved. All will be resolved.
The Outliers slap each other in the puss with powdered paint then bomb the camera.
TOGETHER: Over 'n' OUT!
Last Edit: Mar 6, 2018 23:05:51 GMT -5 by The Outliers
Post by "Rumble" Reyes on Mar 6, 2018 23:29:31 GMT -5
"Part Two"
"...to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part..."
It's the part of the song and dance when the participants look hard into the other's eyes, the love between them pulsating like a large drum. The emotions emanating from behind the wooden double doors were enough to shed a tear, but everyone knew "Rumble" Reyes simply didn't feel emotions. We're certain it was a sight to behold, but Rumble remained silent and still, his arms crossed as if he couldn't even hear those famous words being uttered just on the other side of the doors. Behind the black sunglasses, his stare stood the test of time.
"This is all just a simple game to you two, isn't it? You skate around town, you crack jokes, and you bump knuckles. A day in the life of The Outliers. Since day one, the Battalion division here in Union has never been a laughing matter, and those championship belts have never just been something to hold your damn pants up. A couple weeks ago you asked what made US the face of the division instead of you two, but isn't it obvious? We've been here, fists up, fighting, while the pair of you try not to get liquor poisoning. We made that abundantly clear since the events of Coup de Grace, so why you even have to ask is beyond me, especially considering it's not like you denied it. Then, when you finally do decide to come to work and defend OUR belts, you do the exact same thing you did before and make a joke out of this division.
THAT'S something you have denied, having anything to do with this referee bullshit that's been going on. Didn't you rant and rave about how you would have rather beat us fair and square? You would have rather the referee not be blind, but it supposedly wasn't your fault. Interesting that you guys hid away after that though? THAT'S the reason we took it personal. It wasn't the loss that we couldn't take, it was the way in which you won, and when called on it you didn't give a shit. For the supposed upstanding guys you are, I was baffled."
"And do you, Aryanna...."
"Two numbskulls run around talking about finding a common ground with their enemies, and that WE had a lack of respect? You'll have to do better than that, because it wasn't until after you downplayed the entire event that we took things to the next level. We saw through your whole facade. You can't get mad at us for calling BS when you two stand there telling us you wanted a compromise, and spouting off on twitter at the very same time. Two weeks ago we have another screwjob occur and you two go absolutely quiet! That's what makes you two look like sketchy folk to the Union Battleground fandom. You think people can get behind that sort of behavior?
Where were all your generic ramblings around that time? Why didn't you guys come out with your ever-growing list of google searched common phrases when it happened AGAIN? Little bit of egg on your face maybe?"
From the smallest corner of Rumble's mouth, it began to crack. For a moment there, it looked as though the tiniest smirk had crawled onto his face, only to retreat back into it's cave once again. He glanced over to Reigner, who appeared to be loving every word.
"But that's neither here, nor there, this time around, is it boys? You remember how cordial we were with you the first time around? If our first encounter didn't prove us, and the rest of UB, wrong about you boys, then the second time definitely did. I'm not hear to convince the world of what you've done, and I'm not here to call you on it. What's done is done, I'm here to make you atone for it, to finally make you into placing those belts right where they belong, on our shoulders. The time for having a solid match is in the past, along with the rest of this bullshit that Noah has already spouted about. I don't quite understand how you two can sit there claiming you beat us when you honestly never have. Axel Graves himself acknowledges the tragic mishaps, even if it is a little too late. The damage has already been done, we're just the only ones that had to pay for it. This time, we make sure you two little pissants can't do a single thing but fight us fairly. Put up, or shut the fuck up."
Rumble slid a gigantic hand over his mouth momentarily, while Noah's mouth shot open. Reigner looked like he was about to explode with fire, but as always, Reyes retained his calm composure. Though inside, he was bursting.
"The way you two speak, you'd think that the fight would be your favorite part. You think you'd rue the day these refs would allow such a thing to occur. Instead, we find you laughing and that's all fine and dandy, because you won't be able to laugh once we're finished with you. Noah and I have never stop coming for those belts, and after Crown of the King Cobra, you're never going to touch them again.
The truth, we may not have the belts on our shoulders but you've been playing second fiddle to us since we got here. WE'RE the ones who came to play in the Battleground, and you two were simply a guest that ended staying much too long. You've definitely outstayed your welcome, that's for sure. It was Noah and I who have always been here for the Union, always ready for a fight, and always willing to go that extra mile. We've touted the Batallion division, and Union Battleground, every-damn-where that we go and we do it proudly. The rightful champions. The future champions. We've scratched and we've clawed to get to this point, and now we're sticking our heels down into the fucking mud and staying here! You're not about to get rid of the Firing Squad, not when this shit is just getting good! You two have fucked with us for the very last time! Crown of the King Cobra is where it all comes to a head, you either put us down or you kill yourselves trying! The choice is yours to murder each other...
You line 'em up."
It was almost as if time had suddenly begun to move slower. With each passing second, in your bones it felt like five. Rumble turned to look at Reigner, and even through his sunglasses, and through his hardened exterior, Noah knew exactly what he was up to. Reigner flashed back a smile, the likes of which we haven't really seen much in UB. The scene widened, showcasing the boys from head-to-toe.
Your gut dropped.
Positioned directly to the right of both men, grasped in their hands, were a pair of AR-15 rifles. It was now or never.
"We shoot 'em down."
The duo turned, kicking open the double wooden doors with such force. On the other side, the fairest wedding in all the land. At the head, Reigner's former lover, Aryanna Cortez, standing next to some poor shmuck she was, no doubt, about to trick into marrying her. Her mouth stood agape, and a shrill scream escaped her lips. The former majority share owner of SoCal Ultraviolent, and leader of Los Renegados, Julian Cortez, immediately stands up tall next to his babygirl. He looks to his henchmen standing off to the side...
who are dropped at the unmistakable sound of gunshots. Incredible shock, and then outstanding horror, as one by one the guests of the Cortez wedding meet an end that is amazingly fitting for a crime family. The staff would still be unable to get out the red stains months from now. As they took life without hesitation, their faces didn't tell a story of remorse. On the contrary, it told a story of relief. The Cortez's represented the past Firing Squad, Los Renegados, and eating shit like the events of Coup de Grace and beyond. No more. Soul by soul, The Firing Squad effectively terminated all they had once been. The only thing left to do, was to put down The Outliers, and fully actualize everything they had become.
