REVOLVER 1: "Smoke On the Water"

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We go to the back, fresh off of the first match in Revolver Pro History. As the camera focus in, we see a gratuitous close up of Cybil Callaghan. The cameras pull back to show her standing next to a very large “Bayou Beatdown” themed Slot Machine.

Cybil is in complete wonder at the machine, it sounds like she’s muttering out probabilities and analytics under her breath until we get new entrants into this bit of screen time.

Becky Balfour walks up to Cybil, which instantly causes event security to rush over and grab Balfour by the arm to pull her away from Callaghan. In the commotion, it was shown that Becky was alone. No Followers, and at the moment, no other members of The Society.

Two of the staff muscle Becky away from Cybil as Becky lashes out, screaming at them when Cybil intervenes, calling off the security. The two men look at Cybil with a look of concern, but as she confirms that she wants them to let Becky go, they do as she asks and each release an arm of Becky's.

Becky Balfour: On top of the tenth pick shit, this is how you want to spend our one night together, Callaghan?

The security guards standby, almost as a human buffer between the two ladies.

Cybil Callaghan: Guys… guys, it’s okay.

She motions for the security personnel to step aside. Slowly the do so, unsure of Balfour would fly off the rails and assault her new General Manager.

Cybil Callaghan: Becky… you’re going to hate hearing this… But I need you to relax right now.

Becky Balfour: Relax? RELAX? You draft us tenth, and you can say what you want, but I feel like it was to embarrass us. Warren is THE champion, WE are tag champions, but you choose...others before us?

Becky was staring directly at her new boss, with a fire in her otherwise icy eyes.

Becky Balfour: And on top of being embarrassed, you have your men put their hands on me when I'm alone. And then call them off to save the day? What's your move, Callaghan?

Cybil keeps her cool, crossing her arms as she steps aside slightly so that Becky has a good view of the slot machine.

Cybil Callaghan: My move? Well I guess. the first move is to simply say that… You’re right.

She smiles a bit brighter as she lets it sink in briefly.

Cybil Callaghan: You’re absolutely right in knowing that our Liberty Pro Champion and our Tag Champions are above the ten spot. But you know contracts… Especially significant ones like yours, they’re hard to move around.

She gives a cheeky smile before turning over her shoulder.

Cybil Callaghan: Oh by the way, have you had a chance to look at my marvelous slot machine?

Becky Balfour: Is this your way of shoving something else in my face? My entire life I've had people throw their money, their clothes, their...everything in my face.

The tension was all coming from Becky's side. Cybil didn't seem intimidated or worried, she seemed calm, but Becky was still hyped up.

Becky Balfour: Is this where you pull the slot, hit the jackpot, and tell me that I'm stuck here and that being exclusive to Liberty isn't an option? Did you buy my contract or something?

Cybil Callaghan: I…

She stops for a moment, she clasps her hands together and takes in a breath.

Cybil Callaghan: Becky. I think you and I are getting off on the wrong foot here. I’m not here to fuck with you, screw you over, or any such nonsense. In fact… Here’s a little story for you. About the real people who go unseen and unnoticed and unappreciated.

She takes a breath.

Cybil Callaghan: I remember being an unpaid intern about five years ago, wide eyed and thrust into my Uncle’s New York offices dealing with contract and bottom lines… All because I was just that damn good with the figures. BUT I distinctly remembering my first personal offer tender, a package I put together for a wrestler who was just as hungry and determined to make something of themselves as I was.

She runs a finger over the bottom of her chin as she smiles.

Cybil Callaghan: Five years ago, I put my faith, and my not even fully developed reputation as a businesswoman… All one one wrestler that I believed in… That wrestler went on to become the first Liberty Pro Champion… Becky that wrestler was you.

Becky's hardened stance immediately softens. Her fingers at her side become unclenched from the frustrated fist that she formed mere seconds ago. Her usually stoic, or angry expression, was now one of confusion.

Becky Balfour: You....were the one that not only vouched to bring me into Liberty, but you are the one who made sure I was taken care of?

Becky seems conflicted, she holds a finger up and shakes her head.

Becky Balfour: How do I know you're telling me the truth? How do I know this isn't some elaborate Callaghan trick up your sleeve? You get me on your side, earn my trust, and then take pleasure in stabbing me in the back.

Becky looks around her, almost as if she's waiting for someone to jump out and attack her. She was clearly on edge.

Cybil Callaghan: To be frank with you, I prefer my stabbing a up front and personal. If I wanted to hurt someone, I’d want them to know it was me who did them in.

We se a slight look of aggression in Cybil’s face, a well crafted expression of a board road warrior.

Cybil Callaghan: How about this for a show of faith Miss Balfour. We’re here in Shreveport and will be here until next week… I had my slot machine set up for the winners of this week and next, but…

She cautiously approaches Becky from the side, putting a light hand on her shoulder, ushering her close to the slots.

Cybil Callaghan: How’s one on the house sound?

Becky Balfour: You're serious...

Becky looks at Cybil's dainty hand on her shoulder, but doesn't have time to study it for long as she's lead to the slot machine. Balfour looks at the machine, and then back at the smiling blonde. She nods and Becky gives it a quick pull, almost as if someone were going to steal the machine from her if she didn't rush to get that pull in.

As the options flash before her eyes, it settles on something as the camera turns from the machine at just the right time to hide the prize from the viewer.

Becky Balfour: Fuckin' A....

Cybil was smiling, almost as if to say 'I told you so' as the camera moves back to the former Liberty champion who looked taken completely aback.

Cybil Callaghan: Mhm would you look at that…

She chuckles softly to herself before patting Becky on the same shoulder and leaving the shot. Letting the cameras focus in on Balfour who still looks to be awestruck at whatever she’s managed to pull for herself.

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The show resumes after a quick commercial break, and the cameras begin rolling backstage to show Jack Graves and Derrick La’Bell sitting down to a meal in catering while going over their gameplan for their tag match later tonight.

Jack Graves: Yeah, Hillary and I got a win on them the last time we wrestled them too, but they are tough competition. We definitely gotta watch out for that Pride Driver big feller, because I don’t want to see either one of us spiked on our goddamn heads.

Derrick La’Bell: What you said, my guy! I’m pretty familiar with The Pride too. Chase Hunter, and Jacob Daniels are both big guys, so we aren’t going to be able to single out a weak one because both ca–

Derrick pauses his sentence as Thatcher Ray Nash approaches their table unannounced. Thatcher pulls up a seat beside Jack and he hands his longtime friend a beer. La’Bell looks confused, and Graves nods his head at the newcomer with a smirk.

Jack Graves: La’Beast, meet my good friend Thatcher Ray Nash. Thatch, this is Derrick La’Bell. I’m pretty sure you already know who he is though.

The two men shake hands across the table, and Thatcher leans over to pluck a piece of Grilled Teriyaki Chicken from the top of Jack’s salad. He pops it in his mouth and kicks back to put his boots up in the chair beside him.

Thatcher Ray Nash: Nice to meet ya Derrick. Hey, Jackie? I just thought I’d come and tell you that the ol’ Bear fella you pissed off the other day? Well, he’s goin’ around saying he’s going to whip your ass if he sees you tonight. Don’t shoot the messenger, but I think you oughta do somethin’ bout that.

Graves arches an eyebrow at his friend and he lifts the Coors Banquet he had been handed to drain every drop of the beer in the bottle. Jack then stands to push his chair back into the table and turns to head down the hallway.

Jack Graves: Welp, I guess I better go see a man about an ass-whoopin' then. Excuse me fellers.

Both Derrick, and Thatcher pop to their feet, each for different reasons. Thatch slaps Jack on the back playfully and points down the hallway.

Thatcher Ray Nash: You think I’m going to miss this? I’m going too. Last I saw he was in a general uh…. that way direction. Yeah. Down yonder.

Graves nods a silent thank you to his friend and takes two more steps before Derrick steps in front of him to slow him down.

Derrick La’Bell: Whoooaaaa now big guy. Let's slow up. I got no doubt you’d handle ypur business any day of the week… but I need you 100% for this match tonight. I want that spin on the Shreveport Slot Machine, and I know you do too. Let’s think about this for a minute. You know your girl will flip her shit if you get locked up again too.

Derrick was pretty convincing, and he ALMOST has Jack talked down until Bear McGraw rounds the corner with possibly the worse timing in the world. The two men lock eyes across the room, and Jack reaches around La’Bell to extend his middle finger in the direction of McGraw.

Jack Graves: I hear you was talkin’ shit, bitch. Come on’ and try to back it up so I can dog walk your ass all over this arena.

Bear looks at Graves like he’s stupid, and a laugh escapes him as he tries to keep on walking and ignore the man goading him into a brawl. Jack isn’t having it though. He steps around Derrick to get in Bear’s face, sizing him up. Bear doesn’t back down though, and the hallway suddenly becomes a showdown at high noon with each man waiting on the other to make the first move.

Bear McGraw: YOU said that YOU were fixin’ to kick MY ass when you saw me, and yet here I am. Just as I figured though, you’re yellow. You can talk all that biiiig talk on tw-

Suddenly a big right-hand lands on the jaw of Bear McGraw, echoing out through the hallway. Bear is stumbled a bit by the surprise shot, but he quickly grabs hold of Jack with a single collar tie-up and he begins hammering him in the jaw with HEAVY right hands of his own. Jack does the same, gripping him in a single collar with his left hand while firing away with forearms and punches to the head and jaw of Bear McGraw! Neither man is willing to back down, and it takes a squad of security guards, PLUS both Derrick La’Bell and (eventually) Thatcher Ray Nash to pull the two men apart and push them in opposite directions down the hallway.

They both continue to hurl threats and insults at each other as they are separated, and Jack even yeets a bottle of water at Bear which leads the “American Gunslinger” to charge forward again and land a few more solid punches before they are pulled apart once more and the scene fades.

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The sound of boots clicking on the ground can be heard as the camera shot looks down at a wooden floor. The boots soon become visible before the camera pans up to a man wearing black jeans, a black vest over a white shirt, and a white cowboy hat.

Thatcher Ray Nash: The South. It’s not a place for the weak. Ya see, down here? You either sink or swim. And I’ll tell you what, the majority of y’all are gonna sink. A southern gentleman like Jack Graves will be alright but the rest of ya?

Thatcher spit chewing tobacco on the ground.

Thatcher Ray Nash: You’ll be sinking. And don’t get me wrong, you’ll get help sinkin’ down to the bottom. Because I’m gonna drown every last one of ya that gets in my way.

Nash walks around and we now see he’s alone in a bar. He’s standing behind the bar area as he pours himself a drink and downs it.

Thatcher Ray Nash: And we’re gonna have some fun doin’ it. Brawls, bar fights, street fights, whatever kind of fight you can think of. I’m here to be a part of it. I’m here to tear shit up but most of all? I’m here to win and show all you bastards what the south truly is like. Because lemme tell ya’ll, it’s not as friendly as you think. Not when Thatcher Ray Nash is standing in your way.

He tips his hat.

Thatcher Ray Nash: I’ll be seein’ y’all next week.

He winks and the scene cuts away.

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Dylan slowly rises to his feet, a shit eating grin on his face as the official raises his hand. He is handed the Deep South Championship belt and he looks at it and lets out a laugh. He holds it up and slaps the faceplate. He is then handed a microphone.

Dylan Shepherd: Oh shit, you guys are giving me a hot mic after this match? Boy, I’ll try to mind my Ps and Qs, but fuck… That match took a couple months off me.

He lets out a laugh as he slings the belt over his shoulder.

Dylan Shepherd: You know, you all can ask Rowen all about how I’m good at them last moment pull outs. And just like all of them times? My score is still perfect!

He shrugs.

Dylan Shepherd: As far as I know at least. But this win is also all good due to my girl Rowen. She knew that if it wasn’t gonna be her, she wanted her man to win it.

Rowen gets over to Dylan and the two start to make out as the show closes out.