Liberation: Episode Sixty-One, March 10th, 2021

BACKSTAGE
Before the show has even began Kendricks leaning against a wall on the outside of the National Sports Center with reporters coming at him. The Anarchy Title is draped on his shoulder with a smile on his face.

KENDRICK KROSS: What is it you people are wanting to ask me? I don’t really have time for this but whatever ask your questions.

He rolls his eyes as there’s a few reporters trying to get questions in though he pushes them back away from him as they begin to get close to him.

KENDRICK KROSS: Rule one. Don’t even try to get near me. Rule two. Don’t ask stupid questions now what do you want.

Kendrick points to a reporter preparing for an idiotic question.

Reporter 1: You had fought tooth and nail to get that Anarchy Title. But what do you think about what people had said it being a cheap win?

Kendrick immediately stares down the first reporter as she can clearly tell it wasn’t the best of questions to ask.

KENDRICK KROSS: What does it matter how I won in an Anarchy match? I picked the perfect time. It wasn’t my fault that those two were focusing on tearing one another up that they didn’t realize I was just waiting in the wings.

He awaits the second question knowing it’ll be just as dumb as the first as he sees his opponent walk by.

Reporter 2: But what about you? Do you really think that title is...

Before the reporter can even finish Kendrick grabs him and throws him against the wall he was leaning on as he looks towards the rest of the reporters.

KENDRICK KROSS: Shutup all of you can leave. Asking idiotic questions.

Kendrick looks down at the man he had thrown against the wall and notices how bloody he made him which put a smirk on Kendricks face.

KENDRICK KROSS: It doesn’t matter how I won this just matters that I did. I am the Anarchy Champion and tonight I defend it against Hope. I know, she’s running it through her head that she’s going to make my reign a short 2 weeks, that is a horrible mistake though. I didn’t spend months going after this title just to lose it. No, this title is mine whether people like it or not.

I beat Cait and PPV for it so Hope coming at me isn’t going to exactly be the biggest threat in my life. I actually can’t wait to get out there. I can’t wait to go out into that ring and prove why me being the champion isn’t a fluke. Me holding this Anarchy Championship is very far from just an empty or cheap win. This is about to be a statement. You come after this title? You’ll be making a big mistake. Hope is going to be nothing but an example. Don’t believe me? Watch. Tonight I retain my Anarchy Championship and this reign proves to still only be the beginning.

Kendrick gives the guy that he had sent into the wall one final kick as he walks into the building ready for his match.

BACKSTAGE
The show footage broke away from ringside, picking up upon an image of the bright, blue ocean. All seemed calm on the waters, the waves making their slow motions and there were even the sounds of gulls ringing out in the sky. But this was all disturbed, as an ancient looking ship began cutting through the waves. As it did so, the camera looked up to the bowsprit, pointing forwards with a kraken’s tentacles wrapped around it. As the footage rolled on, music began playing out in the background, getting louder and louder as it seemed like an air raid siren was screaming out alongside it.



The sounds of “I Wear My Skin” by One Minute Silence thundered out as the camera peered towards the crows nest. But as it did so, flashing imagery spliced in with the views of the ship. With disclaimers from the numerous companies that the footage was taken from, it became all too clear that this was past footage of one particular figure, who would be making their debut in Liberty tonight. Shots came through from small companies within the British Isles, showing images of a young tag team, both black of hair and clearly brothers, performing numerous innovative tag team moves. Double team suplexes, brainbusters, arm drags and DDTs before they are seen raising championship belts and pints of the black stuff. The footage then cut in with more images of these Irish boys, hitting the scenes of Twin City Wrestling and (R)Evolution Wrestling, an Irish flag waving with the name “Clann Dia” written upon it, and on their shoulders championship gold.



As time seemed to go on, the figure in question could be seen delivering suplex after suplex, lifting more championships, including the European Championship in New Kingdom Pro, a record making National Championship reign in Spirit & Pride and a Bloodlust Championship reign in the Underground. He is seen giving sudden suplexes and technical slams to numerous, world famous opponents, locking in expertly applied armbars and leg locks, and the focus then fired in on his variation of the Crossface Chicken Wing Cross-Legged STF, displaying the long haired powerhouse making opponent after opponent tap out to the painful looking hold.



As the camera picked up on the crows nest, a black flag was flying high, displaying the infamous Skull & Crossbones, before splicing in with more images of flags being waved around arenas, the voices of fans screaming out “His Name Is Brendan” over and over again. Shots fired out of him claiming more gold from the top of a ladder in Legacy Pro, waving his own flag high. As the footage shot back to fans, whether it be in small arenas or packed out stadiums, the flags kept on flying and the voices became louder, the songs the fans were singing spliced in with roars of “We. Are. Beneath” as a group of four stood tall in the centre of the squared circle.



As the footage focused on that one towering figure, with the gruff dark beard, ripped torso and long black curls, it zoomed in on those icicle-like eyes looking on in determination. In a sudden, rapid fire series of shots, it showed the man hitting German, Northern Lights and Fisherman Suplexes, before finally they were seen raising the North American Championship in Spirit & Pride, a belt that would eventually become a World level Championship.




As the camera panned down from the flying flag of midnight black, it wandered down to the figure at the helm of the ship, the same man this video package had been focused on this entire time. As he stared out into the vast, blue ocean, the figure let the smoothest and move confident of grins spread across his handsome features. Without even looking at the camera, as the music faded out and all that could be heard was the sounds of the sea, he spoke.

Brendan Samuels: “What is my name?”

Asked the mysterious Irishman, his head turning to take notice of the camera for the very first time. He pushed on a pair of aviator shades, that sure fire grin spreading upon his face once more.

Brendan Samuels: “I am The Wrestling.”

The camera then took back to that black flag flying high, before cutting back to ringside, singling the arrival of Brendan Samuels to Liberty Pro.

BACKSTAGE
Backstage! A locker room! And we’re slowly panning out from the face of a very focused Emery Layton. Her arms crossed, her baggy eyes closed, her complexion more pale and sickly as we’re becoming used to. So how come her hair’s stuck to the ceiling? That’s because it isn’t! Don’t be daft. Slowly we spin around to reveal She is, in-fact, deep into a back bridge, right up on her tip-toes for the extra challenge. She stopped timing herself a while ago, but she’s not giving up yet.

But her eyes soon shoot open, the very moment she hears the door creak. Ending her bridge and sitting on a bench, she looks up as Owen Gonsalves, the partner she has reluctantly been assigned tonight, has entered the room.

Owen Gonsalves: “Good form.”

It's clear he's not here to discuss bridge form despite that being something the nerd might actually talk about. He's got quite the weight on his shoulders and it's obvious in the way he holds himself that there's an air of uncertainty surrounding him. Emery just looks back at him with a blank expression, not giving him anything to bounce off. He exhales before reluctantly continuing.

Owen Gonsalves: “Look… I just wanna say that I'm not about upstaging people like that. That's not what I'm about, never has been. I apologize if it came across that way in the Garden, and as for jumping in at the end there…”

He's trying to be careful with his words, he's genuine, but he knows that this is a delicate situation that he doesn't wanna mess up.

Owen Gonsalves: “...I was just doing what I thought was right.”

Emery Layton: “Hm. Yeah.”

Emery looks down, and nods. And for a few moments, she considers this. For the first time in a very long time, she’s rendered near-speechless. Until finally, a smile forms. And that smile turns into a rising, hysterical laugh. And Owen just stands there, watching. After grabbing her hat to wipe away her tears.

Emery Layton: “I...dude, I dunno where to even start with that. All the reasons you coulda brought me, and that’s it? That’s your play, Owen? After everything that’s happened to me over the last few months and that’s--”

Owen Gonsalves: “This isn't some play. I'm not out to get you, not everybody is out to get you-”

Em closes her eyes and balls up her fist, before taking a few deep breaths and calming herself. Owen is trying his best to tread cautiously as he halts his own line of thought to allow Emery to speak again.

Emery Layton: “Look. I’mma be real honest with you. I don’t wanna team with you. I been in one of these ‘odd pairing’ teams before and it nearly cost me my career so the novelty’s worn off a bit. They’re doing this cos they’re taking the piss. You know it. I know it. It’s crap enough I had to come out to the Isle Of Man on purpose, but I ain’t losing to no Girls of Summer or whatever they’re called. So you do your thing. I’ll do mine. I’ll tag you in when I need a breather, you do the same with me. No bells or whistles, lets just make the best of a shit situation. Yeah?”

It's clear that Gonsalves isn't satisfied with the conversation. This wasn't what he came to achieve but nonetheless he nods along, thinking better of adding fuel to the fire ahead of their match.

Owen Gonsalves: “...Yeah, yeah you got it.”

Emery Layton: “Cracking. Right, then. Off you fuck.”

And Emery drops to the ground and bridges over once again. Gonsalves responds rather uncharacteristically, sneering down at Layton as his tongue runs between the top row of his teeth and lip. He winces at being shooed away but once again, he recomposes, takes a short breath before backing away with a shake of his head.

BACKSTAGE
Here’s Brianna Leigh Clark slipping out of her coat and then yanking her sweatshirt off, revealing that she’s already in her ring gear with a little grin on her face as she notices the camera. A wave to have them come closer as she puts her things aside, and her hands go to her hips.

Brianna Clark: So tonight, I’ve got Mr. No Hype Needed, Romeo Chavez Jr. A wrestler from a family of wrestlers at that. But you know, I’m not impressed with this? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not coming out of a place of disrespect for you - I saw your match at No Man’s Land 2, a show we both secured a win on. But.

She pauses, winking at the camera as she starts to move out of the room, a wide smile coming up as she passes people in the hallway.

Brianna Clark: Always a butt, right?

She laughs and smacks her backside, then shakes her head, a far more serious look coming to her face as she deftly moves out of the way of a tech rushing towards the offices.

Brianna Clark: I’m not anyone you’re ready for Romeo. I’m BLC, a little lady hoss and I’m going to toss you around the ring like a sack of potatoes if you even try to put a foot towards disrespecting me. You might be hard to suss out before a match because you’re quiet, but I saw you, remember? I watched you in the ring, and well. I’m never going to be someone that gets loud and underestimates someone, but I promise you that I’m going to do my best.

She pauses again, this time standing near the wall and seeming to give a serious think about what she wants to say, though the twinkle in her eyes is telling another story as she speaks.

Brianna Clark: I’m going to do my best to hit you as hard as I can, as often as I can, and to secure a good solid victory so you’re going to have to sit in the back and maybe, just maybe, rethink that whole thing about hype.

That smile is back again, and she heads on out, calling back over her shoulder.

Brianna Clark: I’m done watching, it’s time to move on up.

BACKSTAGE
In the back of the National Sports Center we find Coral and Nami, tonight there is no lovely cake and presents display in honor of little KC, no. There is however a large amount of shiny tinfoil and a small pile of bricks, which the twins are diligently working on perfectly wrapping in the foil. Nami pauses as she looks over at Coral, a grin coming up to her lips.

Nami: You think they’re actually going to let us take these ringside?

Coral doesn’t even pause as she wraps, a snicker coming from her before she shrugs.

Coral: Logically? Probably no, and that’s rude.

Nami: Hella heckin’ rude at that. Look at this, it’s a labor of love!

She finishes her last brick and stands up, posing dramatically with her shoulders back and hands on her hips. The gorgeous spangly holographic red, white and blue gear lends to this heroic image. Which she wrecks of course as she speaks, a sneer curling her lips slightly.

Nami: Tonight we face the team of EMOWGONE.

Behind her, Coral finishes up and then stands to support her twin, though she quizzically mouths ‘emowgone’? Behind her back.

Nami: Now trust us we know that’s not their team name, mostly because they AREN’T A REAL TAG TEAM. How dare they!

Coral: How DARE.

Nami pauses to give her a side eye before she continues on.

Nami: Look, we all know, no matter what they say, that both Emery Layton and Owen Gonsalves believe they’re going to win this match. Not in that ‘if you don’t believe you can win why are you even here’ way either. They… presume. Not assume, that’s not so bad, but presume!

Coral gets a super offended look on her face and shakes her fist at the camera.

Coral: You two twunts have been champions in other places, sure. You’ve held gold even if it hasn’t been as recently as we have, SURE. But here’s the rub, here’s the monkey wrench in your diabolical little shite plans. We are a tag team with elite tier chemistry, we’re not just running on years of wrestling experience either you stumps, we’re twins and we’ve got a proven track record as Liberty Tag Team Champions - longest reigning champions AT THAT… no matter what kind of disrespectful trash gets said about us? WE DON’T CARE. Mostly because we last the test of time and the little sand gremlins that talk shit about us just don’t.

Nami: Ahem.

Coral: No seriously, we don’t.

Nami holds up her hand and nods.

Nami: She’s right. Morons are gonna… moron? Anyway! Frankly we’re not adverse to you two kicking the absolute guts and gore out of each other on the way to the ring. It would be hella entertaining for one. Talk all the trash you want, the pair of you… but you will never be a better team than we are.

Coral: It’s always Endless Summer.

The pair high five obnoxiously and begin to load up a small wheeled cart they stole from somewhere, probably, with the shiny wrapped bricks. The question of course? Will they actually make it to ringside with them!

BACKSTAGE
It’s not everyday that you see the man himself, Nathan Callaghan, attending a Liberation show. Usually he prefers to leave the day-to-day business in the capable hands of his son Sean, and the fact that he’s here tonight can only mean that something extremely important is about to happen. Nathan was standing outside his office inside the National Sports Center in Douglas to his left and right two massive mean-looking bodyguards, the kind of guys you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley at night. Extra precaution after the assault his son suffered on the last show? Perhaps, or maybe…

Voiceover: “Clear.”

Came a voice from outside the screen, stern and cold. A man dressed in an expensive all black suit stepped into frame, walking past the guards and heading straight to Nathan, who welcomed him with a smile and a handshake.

Sharp Dressed Man: “Rien Riekert, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Callaghan.”

Rien Riekert, that’s a name that some wrestling fans might recognize as the Head of Grace van Beek personal security.

Rien Riekert: “I noticed your men surveilling the hallways, even those in disguise. Quite the deployment of personnel, I’m impressed.”

Nathan smiled and replied.

Nathan Callaghan: “After the recent events, I thought the security could use an upgrade. Especially when expecting high-profile guests such as miss van Beek.”

Grace van Beek: “Very wise, Mr Callaghan.”

Preceded by the scuffling of military boots on the hallway floor, the voice of the young owner of MWE announced her presence before her figure came into view. Surrounded by four members of security in full tactical gear, Grace made her way to Nathan’s office. Everything about her screamed opulence. The fur coat she was wearing was the exclusive full-length sable fur coat crafted by the late Karl Lagerfeld, on her ears shone a pair of diamond earrings designed by Grace herself for her own jewellery line, and even the facemask she was wearing bears her initials embroidered in gold and silk.

Grace van Beek: “You can never be too sure, especially with some of the hot-headed individuals plaguing the roster.”

Nathan let out a laugh and nodded.

Nathan Callaghan: “You’re not wrong. And most of them like being anti-establishment and they’ll never learn. At the end of the day? Business people like you and I? We can’t be killed. They can try over and over again but they’ll continually fail.”

Grace van Beek: “But it is amusing to see their efforts, as pointless as they may be.”

The young South African replied as the duo entered Nathan’s office. Rien followed Grace inside while the rest of the security team remained outside the door. Always the gentleman, Nathan pulled back the chair for van Beek to sit on as he walked on the opposite side of the desk, right in front of the owner of MWE.

Grace van Beek: “And speaking of business, I understand you have a proposition for me, Mr Callaghan?”

Nathan smiled and nodded.

Nathan Callaghan: “Let’s get straight to business.”

Callaghan pushed a piece of paper forward on his desk.

Nathan Callaghan: “That right there is a contract. I know it’s been a little while since you’ve wrestled full time, but you still have your youth. In Millennium, with what ROTTEN is doing? You have your hands tied as the owner of the company. But here in Liberty? You’re free to do as you please on Liberation. Not only will you be paid well, but your security team will have full reign here.”

Nathan leaned forward over the desk, his finger on the paper.

Nathan Callaghan: “ROTTEN is growing and people are either joining in or sitting back and doing nothing. I need people like you, Grace. You’re not just a fighter but you’re smart and cunning, and you have unlimited access to, well, the right people. So what do you say?”

She gave a look at the contract in front of her, skimming through the details. A smile formed on her crimson lips as she reached the part about her security detail, always a point of contention in every company throughout her career.

Grace van Beek: “I have not had a match in over a year, since Southside closed. But I will be lying if I said that I did not keep myself in shape in this down time.”

Grace admitted to Nathan as she lifted her eyes from the papers.

Grace van Beek: “And I appreciate the fact that you understand how my safety is a priority. My former employers always struggled to grasp that simple fact.”

For those who don’t remember, the presence of her security at ringside was one of the reasons for dissent between her and Chuck Matthews back when the Smartest Man In Wrestling was in charge of Millennium. Grace turned to Rien and gave him a nod, and the former South African Special Force quickly gathered the papers.

Grace van Beek: “I will have my personal assistant go through the contract, but from what I saw, it is quite an interesting offer. Even though, admittedly, the opportunity to deal with this anarchist scourge before they further damage my company and yours is possibly the most stimulating detail. You will hear back from me very soon, Mr. Callaghan.”

Nathan stood up and reached his hand towards Grace to shake.

Nathan Callaghan: “I can’t wait to hear from you then. Whatever else you may need, just let me know, Ms. van Beek.”

Grace van Beek: “Contrary to popular belief, I am not as demanding as people picture me. All I ask for is a safe environment where I can perform and prove that I am, indeed, one of the best to ever grace a wrestling ring.”

Her expression remained unchanged as she shook his hand, a serious and determined look on her face not even the inadvertent pun could graze.

Grace van Beek: “I will see you soon, Mr. Callaghan.”

Rien shook Nathan’s hand as well and preceded Grace to the door, holding it open for her. As the young South African left the office, Nathan sat back on his chair and poured himself a drink, a satisfied grin forming on his face.

BACKSTAGE
The cameras are backstage at Liberation when they suddenly find themselves on Ahalya Patel, not yet dressed in her ring gear she eyes them fully before she is approached by Tim Anderson who she offers a smirk to.

Tim Anderson: “Ms. Patel, may I have a minute of your time?”

She pauses before offering a nod to him.

Ahalya Patel: “What’s good, Tim? Lets get it!”

She stated before playfully making a punch in his direction in which he almost flinched. She laughed slightly at that before taking a step back and Tim regathered himself.



Tim Anderson: “No Man’s Land II saw your return to the Main Event and what a show stopping performance it was, how do you feel about the turnout of that match.”

She offered a wry smirk to that, before offering a shrug.

Ahalya Patel: “Honestly? It is what it is. I’m not too shook up about it. Tamsin has added herself to the list of a few people who’ve managed to curb me in my efforts. If anything that only speaks to her candor and doesn’t say ish about me. I’m a tough competitor and have made no qualms about laying that out there from the get go, and she’s the only one that I’ve faced here who took the threat seriously. Whatever else can be said about that match, Tamsin proved she’s the champ for a reason, but we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

Offering a slight tilt of the head she continued.

Ahalya Patel: “But let me go ahead and continue since I have a feeling where you’re going next in your line of questioning. Tonight I take on another beast of a man similar to Ellis, It seems Liberty Pro loves to hire behemoths or something, but you wonder how I might be planning to make my way back to that championship and what better way than taking on the guy who she won that briefcase from to cash in on Noir all those months ago. Its as good a challenge as any and La Beast as he likes to call himself is going to meet a type of lioness he’s yet to face in this industry, named Patelly. I don’t call this a bounce back because I ain’t ever lost my stride, and tonight will be no different.”

She offered him a nod before giving him a pat on the back.

Ahalya Patel: “That’s going to be it from me for now Anderson. See you around.”

A wink was given before she waved off and he shrugged really not having much else he could say on that matter as the scene fades.

BACKSTAGE
CVO didn't smoke outside of her own home often, but here she was, near the back, having just unplugged the alarm for the fire exit door. Standin' up pretty next to it, just havin' changed into her ring gear, she was pulling out one of her pre rolled and plunking it between her plump lips. A spark of her lighter, a deep breath, and she was releasing it all out the door with a relieved sigh.

CVO: "Fuckin' hell, I need that." “Mind if I bum one of those?”

Karen Willow sauntered up, wearing a hoodie over her wrestling gear as she gingerly made her way over. Her face still showed the results of her last match, a deep cut along her forehead and scar on her cheek. She offered a half smile as she leaned against the wall, taking a moment to compose herself as her body settled.

Karen: “I’ve had... a hell of a week.”

Pause. Beat. CVO was handing it over the moment that Karen asked for it, even before she saw her friend an' former twitch partner, and now... tag partner? The auburn haired stunner waited for her to take it before she turned her attention to her. Cue the wince. She could imagine how that one felt.

CVO: "You scared the whole fuckin' world out there in Union, you know. Let everyone know that you weren't a paper champ."

Snort.

CVO: "And here you are, taggin' with me, against a letter of the alphabet and Lena.. whatever her actual last name is."

Karen nodded, trying not to let the smile stretch too wide as she took it between her fingers. Karen:

“Thanks. I still got a ways to go, but I’ll get back there. Just gotta keep working.”

Taking it to her lips, she inhaled, letting it fill her before blowing it out in a huge puff.

Karen: “Gotta say, I was surprised we were thrown together. I know we did a few twitch things, but actually stepping in the ring is pretty nice.”

A nod, and a smile of her own was given before she cut a look over her shoulder to the camera guy.

CVO: "Fuck off, would you? We're havin' a fuckin' smoke before we kick the shit outta Has-Been and Rejectasaurus."

Snerking as the Camera Man backed off, the pair got closer, to talk. Mostly to talk in private so the leering bastard with the camera couldn't pick up what they were saying.

BACKSTAGE
The screen lights up in a place, far from the isle of Man. The room is well appointed, and seated comfortably at the forefront is Max Cerrano. Dressed immaculately, with the Gotham Championship positioned on the table next to him, faceplate polished to a glittering shine. That ever-present sneer on his face before he deems it time to speak.

MAX CERRANO: Enjoying yourselves?

He shakes his head, clearly disgusted.

MAX CERRANO: Of course you are. You've all been thrown some scraps, scraps you'll gladly gobble down desperately, without realizing how ill-served you are. Congratulations! You were chosen as the happy few to witness an experiment in self aggrandizement, to appease the whim and ego of one person in particular. Take pride, in the meager morsel you've been provided.

He rolls his eyes.

MAX CERRANO: It's telling, isn't it? That my name was left off of this night of coronation, this opportunity to provide the Liberty Champion a showcase. Not that you deserved my presence at any rate, or that anyone left on this roster was fit to challenge me...to step into occupied territory with the Gotham Champion. But yes. Telling, that the only threat to that OTHER champion's spotlight wasn't invited to this particular party. Telling...but smart, in the end.

A slight smirk.

MAX CERRANO: It wouldn't be good business, after all, to have your supposed main attraction upstaged. So enjoy, Isle of Man. Clap like the trained seals you are, and bathe in Liberty's fading light. While I command something far greater. The shining, burning light on the horizon. Liberty is dying, while my territory thrives. Unpinned. Unsubmitted. Unbeaten.

The smirk spreads into a grin.

MAX CERRANO: Wholly unchallenged.

Max gives a glance to the Gotham Championship, tracing the plate with a finger before looking back to the camera.

MAX CERRANO: Enjoy your dog and pony show, Isle of Man. Your...lesser entertainment. It's all you deserve, after all.

With that, the camera cuts away, and back to ringside.