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For the second time this evening, and rather unexpectedly to begin with, Metallica's "Turn the Page" began as Hiro Shin-Mozas, lacking his ring coat and pulling on his elbow pads to adjust them properly as if he truly had just put them on -- which was the reality. Rosario stood in the ring, in an obvious amount of pain himself but more than happy to show Hiro what he really thought about him as an unbiased and hard-working ref, not quite sure what he'd gotten himself involved in. Hiro was as unaware as any, making his way up the steps as fans tried to cheer him on, but definitely take exception to the way he dealt with things earlier in the night as he coward before videos and the idea of Blackjack. The Ethnic Enigma was at his lowest since returning, not working the crowd or showing the gratitude he normally would. He just wanted to get in and out of the ring as quickly as he could, both he and the Airplane shared that sentiment. Hiro entered the ring, taking a second to look over at Rosario with a frown on his face, not saying anything but through body language voicing displeasure with the fact that they were both out here right now, and even showing a bit of sympathy for the fact that Rosario even had to be out here at all in his condition.


Hiro reached over towards the ring announcers shoulder and put his hand on it -- shaking his head. This caught the fans off guard, as they let out a soft boo and disappointment towards his usual introduction being skipped over.


Hiro's sunken in eyes and pale skin were not those of a man with the will to do much of anything right now. The Ethnic Enigma turned into a corner and kept his back to it, keeping his eyes on Rosario and the stage, while also looking around at ringside for any chance of a sneak attack. A peak over his shoulder, a passing glance into the crowd to make sure nothing looked amiss. It was rough. This wasn't going to be an entertaining match at this rate.

As the banjo was strummed, Hiro's stomach dropped. He continued to look all around as the stage lost it's color, his heart rate raising heavily. Again, a glance right at Rosario who was just as flummoxed, locking eyes with the Ethnic Enigma for a short moment as they both looked back towards the stage. The smoke made it far too difficult to see what was going on, making Hiro all the more anxious -- it couldn't be doing any favors for Rosario who probably didn't want to see smoke again for a while. Finally, someone or at the very least some thing would materialize from within, a tall specter with a ski mask. Was the Ethnic Enigma about to robbed? Could this be a big prank, a social experiment? They pulled out the tarot cards next, a signature of what fresh hell Hiro had been dealing with in the immediate as an undertow to his Blackjack problem that had been forming oh-so-quickly.

There it was -- the Knight reappearing once more, and from afar, Hiro could tell the eyes on the card were fixated on him. It was within seconds that the stranger would pulled away their mask with three-tugs, revealing a head of hair that blocked out their face once more, but as had been the usual for Hiro tonight, the color in his face died off. He recognized the hair, the movements suddenly made sense, the aesthetic, everything. It was then the face, indeed, of a ghost -- it was revealed.

Dallas Cruz. A friend. A foe. Someone Hiro had a soft spot for, for a long time. However, when things boiled over between the Ethnic Enigma, the Embodiment of Death, and Dallas' brother...they had a bit of a falling out. That thought, in that moment, the last time he saw Dallas -- suddenly something clicked in Hiro's mind. His house had been broken into while he was wrestling Drako in the main event at Judgement Day, and only one thing was stolen -- the BBW Television Championship. The title that was retired with Hiro as champion when Bad Blood Wrestling closed it's doors. Hiro, eyes wide open and mouth agape in shock, stepped out from the ropes and went to center ring, making sure he was truly seeing things properly...and he was. It was Dallas Cruz.

Internally, Hiro would scream as the duo looking to haunt him tonight were both former allies, rivals, everything. He looked at Rosario a third time, trying to gauge the airplane's reaction as Jamie ******** Bader joined them in the ring. It had been just about ten years prior that Jamie and Hiro shared the ring, nearly as long for Dallas as well. There was a point in their careers where Jamie, Dallas, Rosario, and Hiro were intertwined by the cosmos of the business they partook in -- but tonight, fate had led them to this chance meeting...or at least it felt that way, despite the fact that Black Magik seemingly planned this all out meticulously, and out of no where.

Jamie's words pierced Hiro like a knife to the ear drum, and while he wanted to shout something back -- nothing would come out. He was too shocked to respond, too broken up by realizations and anxiety and a sense of incredible betrayal. He started putting two and two together. Rosario was here not so much to serve as a referee, but a continued mental distraction for Hiro. Jamie, speaking of ghosts and the paranormal, perhaps knew better than anyone just how to push the buttons of the Ethnic Enigma in his current state. Finally, after choking on his own deep breaths, Hiro stepped up to his mystery opponent.

Rosario was usually distracted, moving between points like picking toppings at Subway, but seeing the duo walk down to the ring caused the older man to be speechless. His mouth was left open as he made quick eye contact with Hiro before returning to Black Magik. It had been over a decade before they went separate ways. They all went off fighting their own demons, either with magic, drugs or trying to become a god. Hell one could argue they were all trying to figure out their own ways of achieving godhood.

Facts were regardless of why, he was here to be a judge and jury to this affair. And most importantly he was paid to do so. None of these three reached out during his absence, during his addictions, why should he feel a loyalty to anything. Once again there was a murderer out there and they were focused on entertainment!

4 of the best workers of the last generation and it was once again focused on internal struggles. But with that being said Rosario's internal struggles we're over with. He limped slowly to a neutral turnbuckle, half ignoring Jamie's request.

"Don't Rush me, Old Man!"

Rosario got comfortable, looking at the contestants in the ring. He loved a good milking and man was he good at it. Rosario whipped his arm in the air, signifying the match to start.

Hiro's mind was running a mile a minute, Rosario's dragging out of the bell ringing not helping things. He was as shocked as Hiro, but unlike the Ethnic Enigma he was able to keep it at 100mph with his personality. Hiro was slowly retreating within, not wanting to deal with Jamie now, tomorrow, or ever -- this was not a good time. However, as you'd imagine, that didn't matter to the Snake, as before Hiro could even put his hands up he was jabbed in the face, sending him staggering back two steps before he planted his feet to stop the movement. His red eyes quickly shot at Jamie again, a mix of anger and sadness tinged with fear looking the smaller redneck directly in his soul. He once more didn't put his hands up as he stepped back to where he was.

The first slap felt like the eighth, the second across the cheek felt like a punch. Jamie Bader had not lost an ounce of strength or ring presence in his time gone, or at least his hits sure made it feel that way. Hiro took the hits, even Rosario wincing at that second hit. The Ethnic Enigma finally put his arms up as he stumbled backward, as the hits were almost enough to put him out on his feet. His vision doubled slowly as he tried his best to be prepared to defend himself from whatever Bader tried next, if he didn't this match would end incredibly quickly and he'd be sitting duck -- prepared to be victimized by anyone.