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With the golden fork in his hands the Champion stands in his corner across from Hiro like a cornered rat. Schemes and conspiracies, plans interlaced into other plans, all of it had come unraveling at the seems leaving the blonde finally alone in the the ring with Hiro Shin Mozas. The crowd rumbles as the champion holds his weapon in his white knuckled hand, tossing it from his left to his right he slowly. Moving out his corner slowly he circles towards the opponent with the sharp object pointed, his hands shaking, beads of sweat running down his forehead.


Standing just out of arms length the champions voices wavers as he shoots glances over his shoulder at the hostile crowd which thirsted for the blood of the CEO. A man who had threatened to burn WWFG to the ground and leave a formless corporate husk where there had once been prosperity. Narrowing his eyes, the New Yorker swings his arm throwing the fork towards Hiro for him to catch, hoping to misdirect his rival, a smokescreen for what would be a thunderous kick to the groin!

Jumping up and down and getting the hype flowing though his veins the Shah immediately reaches down for the little f*****t to grab him under the arms and haul him to a semi vertical base. Quickly the CEO would wrap his arm around the mans throat from behind and with a tape covered thumb jam the digit straight into the carotid artery of the young man to apply The Arabic Spike sleeper hold in hopes of finally sealing the deal and retaining the World Title! All the while he would yell into the ear of his opponent--

The Shah knew it wouldn't be enough. He knew that dogshit wouldn't know good enough to stay down like he should. Rather than allow the fork wielding hand to drop The Ayatollah manipulates the hold swinging Hiro's head around to a front chancery before tucking his head in between his legs. Pausing to run his hands through his hair the CEO looks out into the sea of haters, the people who would stop at nothing and no money down to see him brought down. Well, haters, today was the day that the buck stopped. Today was the day that their gunna throw it back to you, by now you should have somehow realized what you gotta do, I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about hitting Hiro Shin-Mozas with a Spike Piledriver to win the match.

Freakshow is lifted up and over by Hiro-Shin Mozas. Fortunately the champion had the savvy to wrap his arms around the waist preventing a painful drop allowing him to slide his grip down the mans hip to try executing a sunset flip counter! As he lands on the other side his head positioned under the taint of his opponent he looks up and see's the God of Will standing over him, the glint of the golden fork catching his eye.

Hoist by his own FORK blood gushes from the head of the World Heavyweight Champion! Letting go of the challenger the CEO rolls over onto all fours with crimson leaking from his forehead to the ground. Looking at his own Hepatitis infected blood the Muslim shrieks in horror! Clawing at the ground he slips in his own fluids as he frantically begins crawling towards the edge of the ring wanting desperately not to retain his own title, but to escape condemnation at the hands of his vengeful opponent.

Freakshows nails drag across the floor as he's drug to the middle of the ring smearing his blood against the canvas. The bleach blonde is hooked around the waist and hauled up in one swift motion, high into the air, up on the shoulders of the mutt. The champions vision fills with the flash of camera bulbs freezing this moment of catastrophic failure for eternity in hepatitis C blood written history books of Wrestlemania. This was the moment that the Shah had lost everything. His livelihood. His world heavyweight title. His 2-0 undefeated streak at Wrestlemania. His dignity that he never really had in the first place. All of it had come crashing to the ground in a magnificent blaze and the CEO hadn't learned a thing, furthermore, only one thing had crossed his mind as descended towards the ground.

"Dirty ******** s**c."

Crashing onto the ground back first the champions head whiplashes against the floor and his body folds head over heels. Stacked up onto his shoulders he found himself in the perfect position for the fall!

1...

As Freakshow hits the ground his mind is transported to a different place in time. In a remote forest in Tijuana, El Hijo Del Crusher is at a private brothel occupied by Don Alexandro Pandiscio, commander in the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia. The militant, the prime funder of the Nuestra señora de esclusas habituales de las piernas training center in Tijuana, Mexico, was surrounded by boy servants dressed in white underwear wearing 18th century ceramic masks. Standing in front of one of the largest human traffickers of young boys in South America, the future CEO, sporting a black eye following his NSH Title Match.

2...

The old man whose brown leather face was beaten by time stands up. Removing the cigar from his mouth his war metals clink against his chest, a frown barely visible through the lines on his skin. Ashing his Cuban in a diamond ash tray held by one of his boy servants he exhales a large cloud of smoke. His back hunched, his teeth rotting, the decadent sighs wistfully before gesturing to his front man, The Shah to be.

"Fear not Nicolas. You have done very much for me, my family, and The Cause. I fear for where the Columbian people would be if it were not for the generosity of the merchants. While your allegiance is with neither the proletariat nor the forces of history I must commend you for your usefulness in business. I promise you, that one day, I will make you a very, very powerful man."

3...

Thousands of feet above the sea, current day, a man stirs in his sleep. Golden blonde hair rests on his head. This man is a real estate mogul, a Presidential candidate, and a great uniter of men. A man of character. A man of power. A man of dignity and class. A man who promised greatness and achieved it in every conceivable sphere. Suspicious of the Hispanics. A New Yorker. The orange skinned paradigm of excellence stirs in his sleep, for all his grace and fortitude his slumber was haunted by an image of failure. An image of his own downfall. An image of himself, in another life in another time in another body, in the center of a professional wrestling ring. His shoulders pinned to the mat by a foreigner. The mans soft blue eyes peer open and he jerks forward in his seat in a cold sweat. His wife, seated next to him is given a start.

"Donald, is everything ok?!"

His heard pounding in his chest the politician reaches for his complimentary glass of Scotch, taking a sip to calm himself down. Taking two deep breaths, collecting himself, he realizes what he had seen was only a dream. He had much to do a miles to travel before he could ruminate on his troubled mind, for his own wellbeing was not his mission. His mission was simple. His mission was important. His mission was to make America Great Again. Swallowing he turns to reassure his wife:

"Yes, Ivanka. I'm fine. I just had a terrible nightmare... Do you remember Wrestlemania?"

With what was the biggest pop in the history of the World Wrestling Federation Guild, Hiro Shin-Mozas exploded up to his feet from Freakshow's body and stumbled over to the top rope behind him, leaning over it as the fans were all losing their s**t, chanting and cheering. Metallica began to file back out onto the stage. The ref had received the WWF:G Legacy Championship from a ring hand and walked over to Hiro, tapping him on the back. Hiro turns around, and immediately breaks down as he is handed the WWF:G Legacy Championship. For the second time in his career, he made it to the top of the mountain in a company he had a amassed such a history in.



Pyro shot off around the ceiling of Madison Square Garden, and confetti began to fall to the ground. Hiro on his knees as he clutched the WWF:G Legacy Championship, cementing his legacy in the company right there tonight as fans continued to cheer and clap, feeling the energy of what just happened. James Hetfield began the chorus and Hiro got up to his feet, running to the ropes across from hardcam and hoisting the belt up above his head, letting out a loud battle cry to a standing ovation. The camera pans back to show the entire arena on their feet, fans hugging and clapping, a few crying.



Another round of pyro from the stage this time shoots off as even more confetti drops down to the ground, Hiro continuing to celebrate in the ring with the belt as his eyes fill with tears. All of this hard work. Everything he ever accomplished. Years upon years of anguish brought on Freakshow, finally silenced after this evening. He finally pinned him. Student finally defeated the Teacher. Looking over at the downed Shah, Hiro walks over to him and kicks his face lightly, looking to wake him up. The God of Will reaches down and offers him his hand, attempting to help him up to his feet.