AMA Texas Tornado Match - Mayday

[Kross Rhodes]

Texas Tornado
Tag-Team Elimination Match
The Northern Touch (Jean-Louis Gagnon & Don Marshall) vs. Jake Wakefield and Steve Sanders

VS.

#TexasTornadoMatch

Deadlines
❂ Remember that role-plays are to be received no later than 11:59 PM EST on Monday, May 10th, 2021.

 

[Canadian Dragon]

Scene 1
Attitude in Altitude

The rich sounds of Mozart's Turkish March is playing
​

The scene opens at 30 000 feet in the air, in the long, swanky cabin of a private jet. The camera is focused on three men sitting around a custom made table. On one end, Bobby Tremblay is fixing the cufflinks of a brand new Armani suit, and as always, sporting a pair of overpriced rose-tinted sunglasses. He grins as he looks at the camera, waving it over.

As the camera gets closer, we see two men sitting across from him. Sitting in the aisle seat is Johnny Lou Gagnon. He's wearing his usual toque, even inside the plane, and some slotted sunglasses on his face. His usual manicured beard is as proper as ever. He also appears to have a pink sleeping mask with the word PRINCESS, tied around his hat; one would assume from earlier in the flight. He's wearing a tight baby blue muscle shirt, black skinny jeans and some sort of expensive white and red sneakers. He bites his lip at the camera in an attempt to be flirtatious, then points a finger at the camera and BANGS. He then rests his gun finger, still in position, on his lap pointing to his crotch, nodding and smirking.

Sitting in the window seat was the big man himself, Don Marshall. Even in a private plane, his style still yet to be desired. While he is at least wearing a dark leather jacket, it's unzipped, revealing an old, stained and torn wife-beater. His wild thick chest hairs popping out, making it hard to differentiate between his large, majestic beard and said chest ornament. He's wearing faded jeans, seemingly forever etched in dirt, over shit-kicking cowboy boots. His biceps are bulging through his already over-sized jacket. He is holding a banger of whiskey, old no7 as he tended to call it. At his his feet, barely visible, a small spittoon bucket (he's not completely classless). He laughs at Johnny's antics, genuinely amused. He spits out tobacco, making the bucket ping.

" Look at us! Riding in style isn't that right, boys?" proclaims a boisterous Bobby Tremblay. The two wrestlers concur and nod. " We're on our way, right now, ladies and gentlemen, to Nashville, Tennessee ..."

Johnny immediately interrupts him " I think you mean ASS-ville, ain't that right Donny? Deuce meeeee!" He reaches over to Don Marshall who obviously indulges him and they do the finger twiddle. They are clearly intoxicated.

" Forgive Johnny" Bobby belts out laughing " He's been getting so much tail he needs an ice pack down there if you know what I mean!" Johnny looks at him almost cross-eyed making what appears to be an O face (look it up).

"As I was saying, we're on our way, live and in style, to AMA right now. I just got off the phone with that chubby cash bucket owner of yours, and he has graciously informed me that we are to have our debut match. Yes our debut match, and against none other than two absolute legends! One of the biggest rivalry in professional wrestling history coming together for the first time ever! WOW! "

Bobby's voice is rising to a crescendo to emphasize every bit of praise he is laying down. " The team of Steve The Franchise Sanders and Jake god damn Wakefield. First , I want to thank Mr. Thawne for this match. No seriously. It's going to to be an absolute honor showing the world that it doesn't matter who you are, what you've done as an individual in this sport. It doesn't matter how many singles wins you have, it doesn't matter how tough you are as man. No, the only thing that matters, when it comes to tag team wrestling, is unity. And make no mistake about it, The Northern Touch is a unit. The Northern Touch is a team. More importantly, The Northern Touch is a brotherhood, a family. And that's the reason why everywhere we've gone, from Montreal to Tokyo, we have found success. " Bobby takes a deep breath, getting a little flush from his passionate speech delivery. Don Marshall spittoons, as Johnny Lou is physically shaking in excitement.

" Steve Sanders, The Franchise, as he calls himself. One of the best wrestlers I've had the pleasure of observing, and let me assure you, that Bobby Tremblay does his homework. The man is extremely talented, but he's got one giant flaw. He pisses on the carpet! Like a tiny, stupid little puppy, no matter where he goes, he pisses off the wrong people, and finds himself isolated from the business." Both JLG and Don begin to bark like little puppies and laughing hysterically.

"Then, you will hear him complain and cry about how the world is against him, and he's held down. Steven, the only person holding you back is yourself. Give me a call sometimes, and maybe, just maybe I can take you on as a client and show you the proper way to handle yourself out of the ring." Bobby adjusts his tie and chuckles looking over at the boys, who are now imitating a sobbing Sanders.

"And that brings me to the world's toughest mercenary, Mr. Jake Wakefield. A tough son of a bitch, who's spent the majority of his career making a name for himself opposed to Steve Sanders. A man known for his no-prisoner attitude, and throwing literally everything at his enemies, wanting to take them out for good. Impressive, I must say." Bobby nods approvingly. His tone now shifts to condescending.


"But what happened at Down Under Jake? Did you bite the hand that feeds you? Was it a sign of great honor and sacrifice? No, I don't think so, you're no saint. See what I think is after all these years, after all these hard fought battles, you finally realized the truth. And that truth is that no matter how hard you try, how much you burry him, The Franchise will always be better than you" Johnny Lou covers his mouth and can be heard going "ooooooooh" under his breath.

"He's better than you, and you've finally realized that if you can't beat him, you may as well just join him, isn't that right? But how long until you're tired of being in his shadow Jake? How long until you realize you're just his little Robin. And likewise, I ask you Mr. Sanders. Mr. Franchise. How long until Jake stabs you in the back like he stabbed Mr. Cutter JR. last week? How long until he finds the next prodigy's spotlight to leech off of, hmm?" Bobby is now sporting an evil grin like a cartoon villain, fully embracing his hypnotic rhetoric.

"And that is why, ladies and gentlemen, and less we forget, every single one of you little video game playing marks in the back! That's why, MAYDAY, May 16th, the world is about to witness the gold standard in tag team wrestling. We are going to show those two bums, those two INGRATES, how a real team works in the ring. And at the end of the day, when they raise both my boys arms in victory over your sorry asses, you'll remember what The Northern Touch is all about. Big cheques, beautiful women, and shiny gold championships! Cheers!" The three men slam their drinks against each others and down a shot of whiskey. "God dam right boys, my three favorite things. Booze, Butts and Belts!" Belts out a very drunk Don Marshall with the most excitement we've seen of him yet.

Bobby Tremblay signals to a young, brunette flight attendant in a pencil skirt over for more drinks and she nods. However, we can also observe Johnny Lou locking eyes with her, and excusing himself as he stands up. He casually walks over to her in what one could describe as the douchiest strut you've likely ever seen in your life.

"Hey shorty, what's uuuup? Ever been with a legend?" man what a guy...but yet, she giggles....And follows him behind a curtain to the rest area of the jet as Johnny finger guns the camera with his tongue out. Bobby and Danny exchange glances and laugh. " That's just how success works, learn to love it" Bobby proclaims. "See you in Nashville."

Broadcast ends abruptly, stay tuned for scene 2, touchdown, coming soon!​

 

[Canadian Dragon]

Scene 2
Touchdown (from Canada with Love)

Nashville Arena, Backstage

The scene opens with a white stretch limousine pulling into the arena garage. It slows to a stop, the doors open, and suddenly, the entire world begins to be SLOW MOTION.

The thunderous sound of kiss blasts out of the limousine. Love Gun!
​

As the limousine doors slowly open, billows of smoke, of the not-so-legal-in-Tennessee kind, escape rapidly and fills the air of the currently empty garage. Bobby Tremblay, Johnny Lou and Don Marshall all appear frame by frame, in absolute style wearing the same gear as in the plane.

Bobby is coughing and trying to shove all the excess smoke away from his face. Johnny Lou is strutting out, eyes bloodshot as all hell. He finger guns the camera and fires off a shot at the 4 second mark of the song, synching in perfectly. Don Marshall towers over them both, one pace behind. He does his patented smoke blow taunt (a tribute tot he late great Brodie Lee). The scene continues like a slow motion rock video.

Behind them, seemingly out of nowhere, a parade of beautiful scantily clad women all come out of the Limousine, the next one more gorgeous than the last. They all pose sexily beside the posse, with Johnny immediately wrapping each arm around a different lady. Even a young fabulously dressed man is following them around, apparently star-struck, in a trance. Flashes of camera are seen (but we don't actually see any press?).

They continue to work towards the camera in super slow motion to the rocking beats of kiss, as the ladies hang onto the men laughing and giggling in glee. A very nerdy looking man approaches them for an autograph, but Don shoves him face first onto the ground and they all laugh hysterically.

Record scratch. The music suddenly stops and Bobby Tremblay reaches in his pocket, takes out an expensive iphone, and appears to look over a text. He reaches out his hand to block the two wrestlers from going forward.

"Alright gentlemen, sorry to cut the party a little short, but I've got some important business to attend to." He winks at the two. " So ladies, why don't you get back in the limo, and keep the champagne on ice for us? The stars of the show have to go make a little bit of history tonight, but we shouldn't be too long" The ladies giggle and make their way back to the limousine, much to Johnny Lou's chagrin. He begins to pout,

" So the usual then, Bob? We make ourselves at home?" The big man pipes up first.

"Everything is good to go Don. You guys go do your thing, then go get ready for your match. Some kiss ass intern should be able to show you to your private dressing room, I've arranged that for you." He smiles proudly.

"Fuck yeah baby, we got some girls back there too, Bobby? I need to get my jocks off I'm just too god damn hype! Somebody PLEASE deuce me" Johnny is visibly shaking once again with excitement. He sticks out his hand and Don deuces him, of course.

"Eyes on the prize Johnny, then, the ladies. You know the drill. Make me proud, and make sure they know you've arrived!" Bobby slaps JGL on the shoulder and smiles cockily. He walks away towards some back offices, texting furiously on his phone.

"You got it, boss." Don answers for John, who he starts dragging forward as he's still attempting to call over some ladies from the limousine.

The two brash wrestlers are now walking backstage, a camera in front of them following their every move. As the continue their walk, goofing off, they come across two not-so-cool looking wrestlers. Clearly, these guys are local enhancement talent. One of them recognizes the duo, likely having seen them on different circuits. The young man reaches out his hand as he approaches.

"Hi my n..." He does not have the time to finish. Don Marshall decks him with a hard right hand, immediately knocking him out. He tumbles to the ground like a sack of potatoes, motionless, as his apparent partner looks over bug-eyed in horror.

"Yall really stepped in some shit boys" The big Don musters to the onlooking man, who's now turned as white as a sheet as is waiving his hands in front of his face pleading for his life.

"Hey, hey , shhhh" Johnny Lou hugs him lightly, "It's ok, hey, it's ok now. It'll be over real soon" He whispers in his ears. As the poor guy puts his guard down for a moment, Johnny jumps back and super kicks him in the jaw and bursts out laughing as the boy just stands there, out on his feet. " Get this trash outta here Don" he snarls.

Big Don Marshall grabs the boy by the throat, lifts him up off the ground, and throws him a good ten to fifteen feet away into a literal pile of garbage. He then chuckles for a moment while slapping both his hands together.

"My god I love being us! Deuce me Brevhren Lovejoy! You watching this Sanders? How bout you Wakefield?" Johnny Lou's nasally voice echoes through the now empty hall. "Now where's that fucking intern with our dressing room, I'm bored already!" The cocky french Canadian adjust his sunglasses and grabs Don to continue walking forward.

"Clean up on aisle DICKS!" They both laugh their asses off.

Finally, an AMA female intern comes rushing, obviously hearing the ruckus being caused by The Northern's Touch chaotic arrival.

"Did...you guys do that?" The young blonde female asks, looking distraught.

"Don't worry about that baby. Johnny Lou would never ever treat a lady badly." He plays with his own hair while doing his best fuckboi face. " Why doesn't your cute little butt show us where our locker room is? Maybe you can sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas. It may COME early" Gagnon is laying it on very thick.

However, perhaps having been warned ahead of time of their reputation, she looks a lot less than impressed, but maintains her professionalism. She writes a few things down on a clipboard.

"Right this way Mr. Gagnon, Mr. Marshall. Everything is ready for you, follow me" She begins to lead them off.

"Don't mind if I do!" Johnny replies. The two men follow the young woman off screen, slowly, as Johnny is more than obviously checking out her butt as he walks behind her.

He whispers to Don "My god, I think I've died and gone to heaven Brosky. Deuce me!"

The two men covertly do their typical hand signal as they leave the screen, going towards their private locker room.

One thing is certain, The Northern Touch have landed in AMA, and it's clear their impact is already causing waves.
Stay tuned!​

 

[Petty]

The Past Collides With The Future
I​

After the camera stopped at Sportman’s where Cecil Ingle and Steve were catching up, with Fernando the cat was licking his paws on the counter. The camera crew had left the bar leaving Steve to his own devices. Steve takes a sip of his drink and sits it down as Cecil is nursing his drink staring at Steve. Steve sits his glass down and glances over at Cecil. He smiles before parting his lips to allow southern Ohio vocals to escape his throat.


Sanders: "What’s up man?"


Ingle: "So, you gonna go see him?"


Sanders: "I dunno man. He bit the hand that feeds him. I brought him into this business and he seemingly let shit go to his head."

Ingle: "Well, I know. But, is pretty bad off. He hasn’t been the same since you I guess moved on. But, that’s one thing I can say about you buddy. For as long as I knew you can thrive in any situation and if someone falls out no matter the reason you don’t miss a beat."


Sanders: "True enough. It’s not so much about moving on. Pretty much since I broke him into the business he has ridden my coattails. It’s always been like he is in my shadow. And, could never move onto his own. I mean he even tried to reinvent himself as Jackson Rage didn’t he and it felt flat. I mean without me in the business with him he just couldn’t get the job done. Like, how many times did I have to bail his ass out? And, then he has the nerve to do and say that he is the reason I am where I am."


Ingle: "Well, yeah Kevin can be pretty selfish sometimes I guess. I think all those chair shots have taken a toll on him. Honestly, since you are back. I think you need to go see him. I’m sure he saw that little stunt on television that was pulled involving his lookalike. Likely had that man depressed eating. Because it killed him to know his likeness was basically being used and what you said on that promo had to strike a nerve."


Sanders takes another sip of his drink, allowing the cool contents to go down. He sighs before sitting the drink down. He thinks for a moment before responding. Cecil takes a sip of his drink as well, holding it for a moment in his hands as he glances at the television mounted up on the wall in front of them. He then glances back at Steve.

Sanders: "Well, it’s not my problem he lost himself in trying to take my spot. Perhaps if he was half the man he claims he is. Which, he isn’t. He would have fought me for the spotlight instead of thinking being my sidekick would get it given to him."


Ingle: "You are still as cold as ever. A relentless person. It’s why you survived in the business so long. But, that has hurt your personal relationships as well."


Sanders: "Well, sometimes things have to be sacrificed. Fine. I’ll go see him. I’m not sure what seeing him would do."

Ingle: "Trust me. You got to see what impact you doing what you did has had. It’s not good."

Cecil has a serious gloomy expression painted on his face. Steve and Cecil lock eyes for a moment, maintaining the serious look together. Steve sighs again, thinking to himself. State Avenue. Eh, who really wants to go back to that place. I know I sure in the hell don’t wanna be here.


Sanders: "Okay, fine. I’m going. Where’s he at?"


Ingle: "Same place as before. Well, just upstairs."


Sanders: "Well, it was nice seeing ya man. I’ll hit you up."


Sanders pats Cecil on the back as he stands up from his drink. He watches as Fernando appears to have hopped down into a litter box and taking a shit with a bigger rating than a Brandon Roberts promo. Sanders is reaching into his pocket as he looks away from the cat shaking his head. Steve is thinking to himself, Wow, that cat is taking a shit bigger than humanity’s forehead. Fuck. That’s huge. He pulls out some bucks including a nice juicy tip and sits it down where his drink is. He starts to walk toward the door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open and walking out into the acidic smell of light drizzle of rain from earlier. Ah, midwestern weather. Steve smiles as we see him in the same form-fitting black t-shirt, black pants with light gold stitching along the seams. The man appears to be wearing some Nike Tanjun that are solid black with mesh material. He looks around, stepping down off Sportman’s Bar steps onto the sideway of Eighth and State avenue. He starts to walk toward the corner, speaking as he walks.



Sanders: "So, let me get this right. This week I got to face against a team debuting known as The Northern Exposure? No, wait it is Northern Touch? I mean either way both names fit. We have a big Canadian Redneck who likes to touch moose. And, then we have a French Canadian jackass who films the Canadian Redneck touching moose for animalhub.com. But, never mind that. Are you guys really showing up at the Nashville Arena a whole two weeks early in a Limo playing KISS, Not to mention getting out of a limo in an empty arena with some ring rats you had to pay for with your trailer park trash looking groundskeepers?"


Sanders stops at the light laughing. He laughs even more remembering what he saw, like in total disbelief at what he is seeing. This is better than Super Kidd OJ with a push. I’ll give you that much at least. As he stops laughing, trying to get the next sentence out. But, keeps laughing before he finally gets it under control.

Sanders: "Then you start walking in slow motion toward the Camera with KISS playing. What is this a Canadian version of American Pie? Who is gonna lose their virginity tonight at the barnyard party! Someone is bound to go down on a moose, fuck around get loose with a goose if you so choose. Look, I don’t know why in the hell you wasted our time and the fan’s times by trying to pick on hired actors backstage at an event that doesn’t even start for an entire two weeks. This is more embarrassing than having to sit through a Graves promo. Look Northern Touch. I see you really well. I see that this company got a touch for hiring anyone even enhancement talent like yourselves from across the pond. Two things are for certain though. One, they are gonna need some really strong air fresher because I am positive that you both smell like moose piss. Two, if you want to come for the Franchise you need to understand that you may need just a tad bit more originality to even remotely begin to be in my league. Never mind the fact that I will have Jake Wakefield in my corner. You will have a big enough problem with me alone. But, since it is a tornado tag team match. It won’t really matter because from the looks of things we are gonna kick your red river jiggin, moose piss drinkin asses all over the Nashville Arena in two weeks. So, I hope that you both realize the only thing Northern Touch is gonna remember before the lights go out is a well-placed Ending Credits. "


Now that has been taken care of. Sanders had some other business to attend to. It seems this time his return to the business has been tied to dealing with the past as it collides with his future. I suppose you can’t say Kevin “The Bull” Putteet isn’t something from the past that would eventually collide with the future. As Sanders keep walking he stuffed his hands in his pocket, playing Cecil’s words from earlier over and over in his head. As he inched closer and closer to that faithful location the Franchise himself was now in front of the building. He grabbed the metal door which is unlocked. It is unusual considering normally you’d have to be buzzed in. Steve would walk to the mailboxes, looking through the names for his last name. He would find it and look to see the apartment number.

Sanders: "Apartment Five."

He starts to descend the steps as people were coming down, recognizing who he is considering he lived in the area for a large chunk of his life. They would smile and say hey but keep walking. As he comes to the door he can hear what sounds like grunting from behind the door. Steve laughs a moment before knocking on the door.


Putteet: "Who is it?"


Sanders: "Open the door bull."


Putteet: "It’s unlocked."

Sanders thought that was odd, but when he grabbed the door handle opening the door, what he was walking into was gonna be even more shocking. The first thing Steve happened to noticed was this picture framed on the wall directly in front of him.

It has taken Steve aback a bit, as he then looked down and can see Kevin on a mat laid out on the floor, in the same cut-off shirt that is seen in the picture being cut off at the midriff of his rotund belly touching the mat. His hair pulled back with a headband that said “Bullmaster” on it. He is appearing to be doing yoga. He is attempting downward dog as Steve looks disgusted. Like, what the hell. Kevin looked back after dropping back down onto the mat.

Putteet: "What do you want Steven?"


Sanders: "Well, was in the hood. I was just was told to stop by. And, I mean I don’t know what the hell has happened to you. But, man you look like meatball with a self-made sports bra for ya titties and enough bacon to put Meisers really out of business. Look at you man, looking like you lost yourself."

Putteet: "Well, it’s kind of your fault."


Sanders: "It’s my fault because you were so scared to even branch out into your own. You always were following me around, holding me back. While I had to spend time trying to keep you my equal. And, then when I finally stopped, you tried to move onto your own as Jackson Rage but Sean Cutter fired you. That is not my fault. You need to take some responsibility. But, I am here to offer you a chance. An opportunity. "


Putteet: "Is that so? Just like how when Jake was making fun of me and a mockery out of me on TV with a dummy lookalike of me and you said what you said about me!? You think that’s cool."

Sanders: "It’s your choice, Kevin. I didn’t exactly lie and you know it. So, either you can get your ass into shape if you don’t like it. Get a pair of balls and come and show me that you are half the man you say you are. Or you can stay the fat pathetic tub of Saint Michael’s chili that you are and forever live in my shadow. That’s pretty much it. Or, I could offer you a job. Your choice."


Sanders laid a business card down next to that ridiculous picture he has framed. Kevin eyes what Steve laid down. Steve opens the door again, before looking back at Kevin, speaking one final time before exiting his apartment.

Sanders: "The choice is yours."


Sanders allows the door to close behind him as he starts to walk down the stairs. Kevin stands up and looks at the homemade card. It said Sanders Personal Security. With a phone number underneath. Kevin glanced at the door while smacking the card against his hands before then glancing over at his picture, picking it up, and looking at it, the scene fading to black not too long afterward.

 

[Petty]

-Touched By The Franchise-



There is Nothing In This World That Can Trouble You As Much as your thoughts.
-Unknown-​

The man himself despite beaming with confidence and the knowledge of knowing his place, his abilities on the microphone and off it. He knows between the ropes his ability can’t be questioned. He knows and believes in himself that he what fits the bill. He is cut from a different cloth entirely. But, despite all of that. Despite all of the hard work and dedication to the business, he has done. The many nights he has delivered. Despite all of that, his kingdom has been shaken. His confidence tested. His grit was given some grease. You could say it has left him with many sleepless nights. Cause in his head, his thoughts. He thinks he hasn’t done enough. The camera flickers on to an empty room with the lights on, it appears to be an office that is connected to a gym. There is a metal desk that is light teal. An uncomfortable chair that is cushioned but also has the same teal tint. The seat is designed to make you remember that you are here to be in that gym. But, Steve is sitting uncomfortably in the chair in some black gym shorts, and a black muscle shirt. He has been working out and living his life. Sean Cutter Jr.? Who is that guy? The hands of Steve are folded in front of him, as he begins to speak.



Sanders: “You may have heard me say before, “divine destiny.” You have heard me say things such as I am the savior of this company. That the world Championship will be coming to me on Twitter. And, I sit here in this uncomfortable ass chair realizing that you all are comfortable with your spot. A spot that is mine. And, that is okay. I admire you for your faith in yourselves. I admire you even more for giving me something to take from you. Just as it’s been taken from me before. I said this past Sunday I am done being a forgotten memory in this wrestling business. I’m leaving my mark starting now. And, sadly after whooping Sean Cutter Jr’s ass. I am being forced to wrestle against Cletus and Cotton Eye Joe. Not only that we are subjected to having to listen to someone who got trained by Ernie Brown Jr. Look him up. But, all joking aside. Bobby Tremblay, you need to get something understood. Cause you failed your homework lesson in dealing with a Franchise player. A god. For all of your praise, I appreciate it from the bottom of my American heart. But I do agree. Northern Touch is a team. They are one solid unit. You have unity. Just because the two of you fondle moose nuts on a Saturday afternoon as a pastime and you do it together doesn’t make you successful. I see you are all sitting back and letting your manager do the talking.”


Steve stands up from his chair in the office, walking from behind the desk with confidence pouring out of his aura. The experienced veteran was seemingly unfazed by what he has heard these two say about him. The mockery in their voices didn’t anger him, no-no. It just gave him fire. It gave him fuel. It reminded him that there are still doubts from some in this business about him. That they don’t even realize what they are doing. They don’t see it until they are being forced to dance with god himself. His fist grip closed tightly. As his coming words come through clearly, and with no joking intentions behind them.


Sanders: "You are right about something. Just a little. That you guys are a unit. And, that me and Jake Wakefield. We haven’t always seen eye to eye. That we haven’t always been a “unit” so to speak. But, just like true chemistry, you don’t have to work at it. It’s just natural. It would seem to me that there just might be something you missed in your studying of The Franchise. I didn’t have to deal with just two people. Normally when people want to box with god. It’s always been three or more. And, if ya don’t believe me do your homework correctly. Then, I wouldn’t have to fail you in the lesson known as The Franchise. You sit here and try and ask your questions like we are on a talk show called Between Two Moose. But, when you got two wrestling Legends, some shit is just organic. You can’t teach greatness. You can’t will ability. There are people in this business who just have “it”. And, I can for sure speak for myself. I have “it”. I know Jake has “it”. But, the truth is I don’t think The Northern Touch has it. Not even as a un“it.” So, Bobby Boucher I’m gonna teach your boys something they have never been taught before. The Franchise is better than you. That’s the takeaway here. On this microphone, better than you. Between those ropes. Better than you. Red river jigging. Better than you. I think what you need to focus on is that come May sixteenth, 2021, at Mayday in Nashville. I’m gonna make sure The Northern Touch sees nothing but the lights after a Chosen One and Ending Credits. So, then I can make sure you are properly introduced to “The Franchise” Steve Sanders. And, I’m sure you won’t forget Jake Wakefield after he shows you to the gate of hell. Personally speaking. You have just been Franchised.”



As Steve finishes those last words, his cellphone starts ringing, which causes him to reach into his pocket and pull out his smartphone. He messes with the screen for a bit, unlocking the phone screen. He slides his finger up to the answer button, then brings the phone to his ear.


Sanders: “Hello?”


???: “Ah, so I finally get to speak to the man, the myth, the legend himself.


Sanders: “Well, who is this?”


???: “In time Edward. I have been watching you for a long time. You maybe are wondering for sure now not only who is this. But, what do I want?


Steve stood silent for a couple of seconds, the voice on the other end was sultry with intrigue when she spoke. The essence of power oozing into her syllables. Steve felt an immense pull toward this person.


Sanders: “Well, I did ask who you are. And, I would suppose yes my follow-up question would in fact be What do you want?”

???: “I want you to never fear me. Because I am just someone who wants you to achieve your dreams. And, let’s just be for certain. You are bold in every facet of your career. Which extends to your personal life. However, for now. I just want you to know that you shouldn’t fear me.”

Before he could respond the phone line went dead, as Steve pulled the phone from his ear, then looking down to cycle into the call history to see what the number said. His eyes picked up “Private Caller”. Steve looked at it more, before putting his phone back into his pocket before leaving the gym office, the camera fading to black.