There was a buzz in the air. This was Halloween Havoc and we had a stacked card. Countless of amazing women's matches and a main event that was a prime sell out for the whole show. There were knew champions out and about, some would argue illegitimate champions. And they were versus former champions, not quite the number one contenders, but the Syndicate's name held a lot of weight at the moment, especially the more people cried about them. It was nuclear!

The sound system cut on as An Iteration by The Armed began to squeal across the audience's ears. Noise, Distortion, a Wave of emotions as the boo's came from the paid seats. Butt's were in the thousands as the disapproval was heard in magnitude. The wave of music continued as out from the back walked out Rosario. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans on with no shirt, his mature body still looking toned and in shape. He was in his Forty's but hey, a champ was a champ baby. On each of his shoulders was a prestigous golden WWFG World Tag Team Title, hanging flat, A smile hanging off his face as they sparkled in the light. A microphone was in his hand as he pointed with his thumb at the big prizes, the money, the pay checks.

Dean followed sluggishly from out the back. He was a lot less enthused, it was obvious he had to be there. He was a champion, and every minute of TV time was money, and that was a fact. He also sported the Blue jeans with no shirt look as the Tag Team champions were matching in their outfits. The music died down as Rosario licked his lips. The Crowd pipping up now from boo's to words.

"YOU ******** SALEM....YOU ******** SALEM...DON'T DESERVE IT...DON'T DESERVE IT"

Rosario laughed, throwing out some pouty lips and stretching his legs, referencing that B E A U T I F U L springboard leg drop that closed the match. He hadn't wrestled in over a decade and with one move he had gold, and that was a fact brother. Everyone else needed rankings, and trauma, and buzz. Pffft, it's all about knowing your gimmick, and it's very rare when an Airplane crashes, see that would kill the gimmick.

"SHUT UP....I didn't Screw Salem! We didn't Screw Salem. No one screwed Salem but Salem. A Three Count is a Three Count and if you call yourself a fan, you'll pay attention to the ******** rules you marks! This isn't a popularity contest, This isn't an Anime. This is wrestling, and the superior fighters take the superior paychecks baby!" Rosario looked towards the back, ushering with his hands for someone to come do something. it was very vague. But it was understood as two staff members brought out folding chairs and placed them ready to go for the two men. Rosario plopped down happy, he had some points, he had some messages and well he had to save his standing energy.

"Now There's been some crying in the back. Whatever it's about it, I don't care. I'm just going to spit some facts as the kids say. NUMBER 1:First Class vs the Savage Kids was match of the night! Forums blew up, Youtube blew up, K100, Cornette, Maven...They're all yapping their gums about it. Why? Clearly it has be because the only team that actually bothered showing up in full action was FIRST CLASS BABY. But another reason occurred to me as I was cashing my check given to me by courtesy of Cartwright, It's because people LOOOOVE handicap matches. The odds! The gambling! The tension, its all there and it's built in. The tag team division was dead, a ghost. Just a couple of cards and it cleared away like the plate stack at a cici's pizza. But with one match....butts in seats!"

Rosario took a pause, looking back at dean who was intently watching the vet. This wasn't his speech, this wasn't his battle. Rosario looked back towards the camera, cause ******** the fans.

"The fact is the division is filled with low carders, goofy gimmicks and 2nd generation pond skimmers and if it wasn't for FIRST CLASS, these titles would of been vacated and another lost ghost of time to be catalogued and misremembered. But we saved them! SAVED! Because simply we're the gods of the division. I've always have been and now it was time to prove it, and not by declaring it, but by using my godlike abilities to save something. to give it life. And I mean facts are facts baby and we're undefeated."

Rosario began scrounging in his pocket for a piece of paper. He showed it to the camera, wrinkled, faded, barely legible. then he proceeded to read from it.

"List of teams worth mentioning in 2023. It's a small list don't worry, not much here. This is "our division". So we got the Syndicate, former champions with family issues blah blah. Hispanic at the Disco, great workers, but they're women, I don't fight women, bad for business. The Murder Hobos, hate the gimmick, love the ring work, they are never getting a match. Too many numbers in that party. DND is for kids, Not fighters. Next up we have Power...yawn, when do they win. A new name with some F's using some terminology Dean's son uses when he screams at kids on discord. The Young bucks? Trent and Matt Gennision....Now we have to scrap outside the fence lines for any thing worth notating...Apex, they have other problems..."

He crumpled the list and left it at his feet where it belonged. He then went back to his hand where he flashed the number two with his fingers.

"NUMBER 2: Our Price is high boys. Really ******** high. Hell EEW couldn't even afford my indieriffic fat guy. That's our price. AND! You're looking at an undefeated team with a legend on it's roster. A mind who has brought the best of the best to WWFG. And a rookie that has had a blown out year with basically no loses. He's wrecked the singles division, broken a man's arms while fighting for his own life, and he MAIN EVENTED WRESTLEMANIA DAMMIT! The price of one of you measley jobbers to fight us would be too high, and for any of you in the back to think we would fight two of you...pfft. Two of you...No. It's all about the money and the money is telling me to tell you in the back and you in the stands that you are looking at the WWFG Handicap Tag Team Champions right here. And if you are going to want a taste your going to have to...PLAY BY THE ******** RULES!"

Rosario stood up, one title slipping off his shoulders as he began to yell. Dean watched the man use his words. It's one thing Rosario could do, use his words.

"NUMBER 3:....."

Rosario chuckled as Dean, looked up. A stern and angry looked hit his face as the name coursed through his ears. That name was off limits. The crowd even fell silent as the disrespect from Rosario was reaching a limit even they couldn't fully tolerate. A dead man he used his image to rig a match. It wasn't a game, it wasn't a goof. Rosario could sense some tension for the man behind so he put a hand out telling the young man to calm down, they were safe. "Excuse me, Next!"

"THE SYNDICATE, you're going to play by the rules tonight. For those of you who didn't know, the two Damone brothers, cousins, sisters, kids were told of the stipulation and they refused. Citing they had honor, and they always fought together or some corny, rule breaking nonsense! Of course, being a man of stature I talked to some agents who are working out the issue as we speak, so do not worry ladies and ladies, The Tag Team Gods WILL be in action, and the rules will be followed. Because if you don't play the game and you just b***h and moan and cry and storm out that's how you wind up out of tournaments, and out of titles, and out of paychecks. And baby..."

Rosario glanced at Dean who then got up himself, grabbing the title that laid on the floor. He threw it on his shoulder, The heavy metal bringing into attention the deep scars that sat next to it. He then began to turn around as Rosario would finish.

"...It's all about the paychecks!"

Rosario dropped the microphone as the boo's picked up the empty space. Rosario was a piece of work, and just liked that he was gone back to the back.