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Wrex

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Wrex last won the day on June 19 2023

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About Wrex

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    Cunt

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    Scum Country USA

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  1. The scene opens backstage, the show's come to it's close, the fans are being lead home happy-ish.. the ring crew have begun the long process of tearing it all back down, Summercide has hit it's end. Backstage though? That's where the celebrations are in full swing, Champions new and old celebrate, new stars congratulate and spectate.. the old guard heading home. But one remains, sat watching it all.. a lockeroom slowly passing him by, he'd said it many times before, the sands were beginning to run out of the hour glass, and time was short. Injuries mounted, concussions rung out, and time at home sounded all the less bitter to swallow. But.. He still had goals left.. He still things to do.. That flame of wrestling passion still drew embers to light. And he'd got a taste. "Doc was more than talk" he thought. "There really was something to this kid." It'd been a long time since someone took him to the limit like that. Reminded him of the days he was beat hell for leather. It reminded him of the man he used to see in the mirror. The man he hated.. The one it took him years to kill. That man smiled.. he felt alive again.. Wrex: That was fun Doc.. let's do it again.. Wrex felt purpose once more.. A new goal in mind.. It felt good.
  2. The scene opens backstage, just minutes after the final moments of the Turmoil main event. Clearly it was not a previously expected appearance as the backstage crew are scrambling to set up for a backstage interview. Jim Black has just prepared the microphone and is about to speak. Jim: Ladies and Gentlemen. Joini- And that’s all he manages to say, before the now hulking build of Alastair Ross absolutely wipes him off the side of the camera shot with a running lariat for everyone watching live on internet to see, he stands, takes the microphone and walks back into camera frame, sadistic smile on his face. Wrex: Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of blood and violence.. Bet you weren’t expecting me, were you New York? Wrex: The man who, only half a year ago, was told he’d never wrestle again, the man who had his career stolen from him in his twilight years.. But really.. You thought I was done? Wrex: Ever since Gonzalo took my job from me, I’ve been through surgery, and a long.. long.. process of recovery, and since it even happened, all I’ve heard is.. When you coming back, like I left of my own free will.. Wrex: You know the office called me, asking if I’d want to come back early, get a second crack at the future investment, a few hundred miles from my old home.. A chance at a long overdue redemption… And I had to turn it down, because I could barely raise my arm over my head! Wrex does as such, showing how limited his mobility had been just a few months ago. Wrex: So I had to sit home, and watch.. Watch as everything around us changed, Kasstianty came back, Harvey won the world title, Quartz became CCW champion.. Shit I should have been doing, but no.. I couldn't, all I could do was watch, so I stopped. Wrex: First I lost my love for this business, then I lost the pay from it.. So what was the fucking point. I was done with all of this, I was happy to rip off naive assholes, make them drop themselves on their head and call it a day.. Until August. Wrex:That little Mexico show you’re all gonna be watching real soon? It made me fall back in love with this business, I saw the brutality, the violence, the bloodshed.. And then I remembered why I did all this to begin with, why I chose this over everything, even after every injury. Wrex: Soon as I got back, I started going to every doctor I could find, trying to get cleared so I could get back here. He leans closer to the camera. Wrex: And they all said.. no.. You’re still injured, you’re a health hazard, you’re a time bomb.. You will never.. wrestle.. again.. Wrex: So I had no choice but to swallow the bitter pill, call it a day, call it a career.. Then all this Japan shit started again.. So I went along as a bystander, figuring a trip back to the pine dojo to see the old sensei would clear my mind.. Then I got recommended to a doctor.. And I went to that doctor.. And that doctor cleared me.. Wrex: I might never wrestle in the United States again.. But Japan? I’m free and clear.. Wrex: So ever since then.. I’ve been waiting, watching it all again.. Seeing who I would call out.. Who would be my first sanctioned opponent.. How.. what’s the fucking word.. Eh, how fitting that I’d watch the show and see you. That little talk in your dojo, your call to arms, your call to violence.. It’s what I needed, it’s what I craved. It’s what made my decision, very fucking clear. Wrex: Mugen, you want to go back to the old country style? Those old tapes I watched coming up, the violence of strong style? Kings road? Well you’ve found the man who’ll walk that road with a smile, and a real fucking lariat. Wrex: This hasn't been a hundred days coming, this hasn’t been a year coming.. Four hundred and seventy six days ago, I lost my love for professional wrestling, October first, twenty twenty two, even if it’s for one last night.. I live it again. Wrex: And believe you me, It’ll be me collectin’ your fucking head. Wrex: See you in Japan.
  3. Wrex

    End of the Line

    June 1st We return one last time to the hospital bed of Alistair Ross, instead of rest and recovery; however he seems he’s on a mission to get up, collect his stuff and go. Doc: I would really advise against this Mr. Ross, we still need to keep our eyes on the damage, movement could cause any number of issues, especially flying home. Ross: Then I’ll hitchhike my way back to Michigan! I’ve done it before, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m unemployed, my insurance is gone and I’ll be damned if I spend whatever I have left on useless quacks like you, painkillers, rest and I’ll be fine! Ross goes to open the door but someone else beats him to it. Ross: What the hell do you want? The man at the door can finally be seen, none other than the long time missing in action Bingo albeit with significantly more facial hair. Ross didn't wait for an answer. Wack! B17: Ow! The hell you do that for? Bingo clutches at his nose. Ross: Stress relief! B17: I told you… SMACK! Ross: I’ve got a broken arm, nerve damage, enough stitches to set off every metal detector in this place and now no job, so every time I hear something I don't like I'm going to throw punches. B17 considered this for a moment. And then motions for Ross to follow him. B17: 2019 Wrestler of the Year. Ross: Better. The two men begin walking out of the room and down the corridors of the building. B17: Two time CCW Champion! Ross: See now why are you the only one that remembers those things? B17: Because I ended both-- WHACK! B17: Son of a Quartz! B17 remains silent as the men make it to the stairwell. Ross: You know, last time we were here, pretty sure we pushed Matteo down the stairs.. and I kicked a midget.. And you…well, let’s not visit the cancer ward again… Where does the time go? Bingo just smiles as they walk down the stairs. B17: We adopted, you know? Ross: Yeah, I heard. Congrats. What’s it like? B17: Sometimes it’s like dealing with a whiny El Perca, honestly. Other times it’s like fighting with Mugen. But, she’s great. She likes watching Old OCW stuff. She doesn’t like the new stuff, says they all move too fast and it makes her sick. Ross: Made me feel sick doing it, nevermind watching it back.. guess that’s in the past now though... As they walk out of the Hospital Bingo flags down a cab…a very colorful cab. A B Community Cab… Ross: Running a taxi service now? B17: Take him wherever he wants. B17 then hands Wrex a folded envelope. Ross: What is this? Bingo: Plane vouchers to Wyoming. She would like to meet her favorite Wrestler. Ross: What? Who? Me.. poor kid. B17: No. She would like to meet her Uncle Wrex. Let me know when you find him. Ross: I uh.. if I ever find him again, I’ll send him her way, I guess I’ll see you around.. keep yourself well B- Caine. Bingo wraps Ross into a big hug. And while Ross looks mildly uncomfortable he returns the embrace. Caine: See you later, Mr. Turmoil.
  4. Wrex

    End of the Line

    May 31st We once again open on the hospital room of Alastair Ross, he’s certainly looking a lot better than last time, the bandages and plasters are finally gone showing the damage the night of the deathmatch truly caused, a few new fresh scars for the old hardcore wrestlers collection. He’s in the process of drinking his morning cup of coffee when the door once again opens. Ross: Jesus Christ how many check ups do you nee- oh.. it’s you. The person who’s entered the room certainly isn’t a doctor, with his expensive suit, shades and shoes. The man is none other than the namesake of Dennis Dillinger Enterprises. Dennis: Wrex. You just look… Great. Money, I’d say. Ross: Good to see you too, surprised it took you this long to visit, punctual as ever. Dennis: Listen, you and I both know you’re not getting up from that bed anytime soon. I tell ya’ I’m pretty sick and tired of this hospital. Feels like I am here every other day. Gonzalo… He- Ross: Fucking Gonzalo.. look I get it, I screwed up. But Jesus Christ, that little shit cost me everything! Dennis: Everything. You know… I saw so much in that kid. Dennis: I saw a future star. A future statement maker. A future multimedia megastar. Dennis: Then? Then I saw a failure. I saw a kid who decided to spit in the face of his potential in favor of his androgenous girlfriend and his little “feelings”. Dennis: I saw a little ungrateful shit who threw away millions of dollars because he was a little upset one night. Here’s a newsflash… We all get upset. We all have rough nights like you two had at Summercide 2021. We all have down moments. Dennis takes a few steps close to Ross’ bed. Dennis: But only the weakest ones take the path he took. That little shit stole money from me… and you? You were the investment I thought could scrape the shit off of the sidewalk. Dennis: …and well, you proved who you were last week. You proved that you were Wrex. You proved that you haven’t learned a goddamn thing. You’re not Alastair Ross. I’m Alastair Ross. You? You’re not the man I met in that bar at the end of his rope. Dillinger reaches into a conveniently placed briefcase and pulls out a contract. He holds it up to Alastair’s face. Dennis: You’re as weak as they come. I don’t have time for more than one hospital bed and you’re the one I can’t afford. Ross’ face of disinterest twists in anger with each word spoken. Ross: You leeching carny fuck. Smell a chance for some budget cuts and you come visit me in fucking hospital for it. Dennis: It says right here, if you can read that is… If you cannot compete at my discretion, I am able to strike this contract down when and where I want. So as it stands now? Dillinger tears the contract up in front of Ross’ face. Dennis: You’re back in the shit barrel where you belong… Wrex. Ross: Last I checked shit stain, firing a man for suffering an injury on the job isn’t great for your wallet. Dennis: That’s the thing… Dennis Dillinger Enterprises consists of lawyers stronger than your upper body right now. I told you that you were the enforcer of this business. I told you that your past would always hold you back, and it was YOUR decision to let that happen… not ours. Ross: Get the fuck out of this room, before my past causes something we’ll both regret. Dennis: Oh, and you would regret it… Even as dumb as you are losing that title to Garcia… I know you wouldn’t compromise your family by hitting me. This is why you need me, this is why you’ve always needed someone else. Just too reckless to contend with the person you are and the person you’ll always be. I’ll leave you here to sit in your own ruin. Enjoy. As Dillinger leaves, the cup of coffee soon follows him as Ross, using his last good appendage, launches the cup across the room towards the door with fury. Ross: Don’t you know who I am you piece of shit! I need you huh? I don’t need shit on my boot.. I never fucking did!
  5. May 29th The scene opens in a side room of a general ward somewhere in New York City, it’s been a couple days since the events of Turmoil and the person currently occupying said room could certainly tell you that they’ve not been pleasant. The former North American champion can be seen lying in the bed, covered in plasters and bandages, his beard shaved at areas in order for cuts to be stitched and the man himself barely conscious from the amount of pain relief he finds himself on. The most noticeable thing however, is the splint currently attached to his wrapped arm, a reminder of what happened after the main event. The sound of silence is interrupted by the door as a doctor enters. Doc: Hello Mr. Ross, how are we feeling today? Ross: Like shit, nothing new.. did everything go well? Doc: Well as you know, after your.. unfortunate injury and the risks it caused to our previous work, we had no choice but to fix it ourselves, and we were successful.. however. Ross: However what? Doc: Well as I told you. Injuries like these, especially repeats, come with certain.. risks, nerve damage.. sadly we believe you weren’t so lucky this time. Ross: What does that mean? You telling me my arm is a fucking paperweight? Doc: Please Mr, Ross. Stay calm, things like this heal, it just takes a little longer, we’ll be able to take the splint off and get you into a sling within a few weeks, from there you’re looking at a couple months, just like last time. Doc: The potential nerve damage however, we’re not sure.. it could take a couple months, could be a year.. or it might just be something you’ll have to learn to live with.. Ross: ..There’s nothing that can be done? Doc: We’ve got a few options to try and help with recovery but.. we’re limited due to your mobility. It’ll be something to discuss within the coming weeks. For now.. you just need to rest. Ross: ..How long till I can get back to work? Doc: Back? Mr, Ross, I think you fail to understand.. all these surgeries, fractures, breaks, concussions. I mean, speaking freely for a second. Doc: You have a nasty habit of being told somethings wrong and deciding the best thing to do is make it worse, you are self destructive and incapable of listening to our advice, we tell you six months rest, you take one and a half. Doc: Quite frankly, I don’t think there’s one licensed doctor in the state of New York that’ll clear you again, there is no back. Ross: What? You can’t be serious.. this is all I have! Doc: Better find something else quickly then, because as far as I can see, it’s the end of the line Mr. Ross.
  6. Lone Pine Ranch, Michigan. A somewhat familiar study room. One week from Certified Greatness. The noise of a shouting Mr. Sensation and Jake Allen fill the dusty study, the room has clearly seen better days with all the disposable food containers and beer cans filling the room, the couch with pillows and blankets make it seem someone has been sleeping there for a while now. The “who” in this scenario becomes very obvious from the man currently sitting in front of the tv, a half finished bottle of Balvenie in hand, the North American Championship in his lap and Christian Garcia on his screen. Alastair seems in a trance, especially once “symphony of destruction” comes on the tv. Ross: How.. how did you of all people do it.. And then he appears on his own screen, the jacket and shirt looking a lot less Mr. Ross and a lot more Mr. Turmoil. Ross: I said he was gone.. dead and buried.. and there he is.. how is it that a fucking.. pissant like you brought him back, I’ve fought champions, legends!.. but it was you.. course it was you.. Ross keeps staring a whole through the tv as the match continues, kicks, punches, slaps and bombs.. all the while unblinking. Ross: You broke through.. made me care about wrestling again, even if for just ten minutes.. I felt it again.. you got what you fucking wanted… Ross: And worst of all..out of everything you’ve done.. you walked away.. The ending of the match arrives, goodnight Glasgow. One, two, three. And tv is switched off. Ross: And that.. I can't stand.. Guess you forgot huh? Ross: This ends when I say it does.. and I’m not finished yet.
  7. The scene opens in the lavish locker room of Dennis Dillinger Enterprises. Although the room seems empty of said group’s members, the sound of a television makes clear there is life. Alastair Ross, DDE’s nuclear option can be seen in front of said TV, Rust Cohle vs Christian Garcia playing at full volume as Ross leans his full weight on the expensive glass table, rolling around a cigar in his hand as he watches. Ross: I should have known your game from the start Garcia, say you don’t belong here but you slide into my business like the slimy prick you are.. Belong here more than me.. The sound of the locker room door opening can be faintly heard. Alastair Ross doesn’t even move his head, the clicking sounds of striped Gator shoes giving full indication of who entered the room. Dillinger: That’s exactly why he’s here. He needs to be shown how business is done from PROFESSIONALS. He might be a dumb kid but he’s got a lot of talent and I will make him see that. Ross: Face it Dennis, he was always going to pull this, talking to me about his grand visions for riding alone, I’ve saved you a lot of time, and more importantly, money.. I’ll be wanting that money when tonight’s done by the way. Dillinger: And you’ll have your money, on time and in full just like every other week… Only this time, we’re not going to have a little episode like we did after Summercide. You’ll get your money once you finish the job against the Frenchman. Ross: Won’t take long, if this waste of breath could crack him, I’ll do it quicker. He might be one of the best in the world.. But that crown is starting to get too heavy for his head, I’ll be happy to relieve him of the burden. Dillinger takes a seat next to Ross and dabs his forehead with a red cloth. It’s clear he’s sweating up a storm, not the usual arrogant and relaxed Dillinger we’ve come to know. Dillinger: You know, last year when I found you at that bar just absolutely slamming drinks, I knew the man I found was not at his peak. Dillinger: You may disagree with me or say it’s the love of the money, but there’s something inside of that chest that beats for this business. Why else would you keep coming back? Dillinger: You’ve seen washouts of all shapes and sizes come and you’ve seen them go… Ross: Good few of those were your own investment, Dennis. Dillinger: That’s exactly right! Dillinger: You’ve got a nose for the uniqueness of this industry in a way that I didn’t. That’s why I gave you my card and that’s why you called me. Your talent. Your know-how. Hell, the work ethic it takes to physically turn what you were when I saw you into what you are now. Dillinger stands and tries to straighten his suit jacket while taking a deep breath. Dillinger: You’re going to win that championship tonight. Manuel is going to beat the Louis Vuitton out of that idiot Locke. Then all of us. You. Me. Parca… Dillinger: …AND Garcia… Dillinger: We’re all going to celebrate and we’re going to get this shit settled once and for all. Ross doesn’t answer, instead taking a big puff of his cigar and blowing it out of the corner of his mouth in Dillinger’s direction. Dillinger releases a nervous nod and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. ————————————- The scene opens once again in DDE’s private dressing room, this time sporting some changes as the corner that once belonged to Christian Garcia now has had a few holes kicked into it, El Primero’s corner cleared out much earlier in the show after the match with Colin Locke. The only thing that’s stayed the same is the occupant, as Alastair Ross sits in his chair, North American Title in one hand, his OCW award in the other and an ice pack on his neck. Watching the main Anniversary Show main event with a vested interest. The calm doesn’t last long as Dennis Dillinger comes barging in wearing an airplane-style neck-pillow, taped in the front mimicking a jerry-rigged neck brace. Dennis: I swear to god. The only “Spanish Torture” in OCW was me trying to mentor that ungrateful, snot-nosed, pangolin-dick-having little prick for half of a year. Dennis grabs his neck and furrows his brow in anger. Ross: I told you Dennis, I knew Garcia was a snake from the day I met him. It’s why I gravitated towards him. Saw nothing but myself in him.. This day was always going to come. Ross: But.. Ross Rises from his chair, holding onto his award but letting the title fall to the wayside. Ross: ..Tonight isn’t about him, tonight isn’t about Manuels loss, those are issues for Riot. Tonight is MY night, tonight I got what’s been coming my way for far too long. And I’m going to celebrate.. While I do that, how about you go looking into getting back the money that fraud’s been taking from you. Dennis: You’re damn right this is about you. And don’t you worry. Our team is at the office drafting plenty of documents. I’m going to take every dime I poured into that waste of breath and then some. Ross: Good, get going. I’m gonna finish this match. As Dennis leaves Ross falls back into his chair, Scooping the title off the floor, which seems to leave some white residue, and places it back on his lap. Ross: Seven hundred and fifty one days… that’s how long it’s been since a title has sat on my lap.. too long. Ross: The plan worked flawlessly, just like it did three years ago. The more things change.. Ross: ..The more we fucking do it again. Ross bursts out into a maniacal laugh, ending quickly the last three count of the show. All traces of joy gone. Ross: Oh well.. you did your best.. old god. Ross hits the power button on the remote, sending the TV, along with the whole room, into darkness.
  8. Dennis Dillinger and El Parca are seen walking down the hallway of one part of Dillinger Enterprise headquarters. As the cameras zoom into the two men their following conversation can be heard. Parca: So I was thinking with a few investments from possible outside investors so we don’t get our money involved we could be RICH. This restaurant would hit it’s mark by a longshot I’m telling you. Dillinger: What type of restaurant we are thinking about, go on I’m listening. Parca: Easy, Los Carnés Amigos. This city and surrounding states don’t have any good Mexican cuisine and I’m sick of it. So why not fatten up our pockets while doing none of the hard work? I’m sure a man of your stature could find those we’d need right? Dillinger: Let me make a couple of calls. The two men finally make their way to Dennis’s personal office as they both enter the office, they notice something is immediately off. Mainly the fact that Alastair Ross has occupied the desk. Ross: Took you both long enough. I told that lady at the front desk to call when you were on your way up. Clearly gonna need to.. remind her to do her job right. Parca and Dillinger both look surprised as they turn toward one another. Parca points at Dennis and he shakes his head no, Dennis points back at Parca and the same response is given. Dillinger: Alastair! I thought our meeting wasn’t until later this week. What are you doing here this early? Ross: Well I’m glad you asked, you see, I like bullying people and you like money. So I was doing something drinking and thinking on the flight over to New York, and something hit me. A way I can do that more, and you can make money off of it. Ross: The Dennis Dillinger Wrestling Academy, a state of the art, best that money can buy, training facility.. with less physical requirements and background checks than the combat centre. Dillinger: This sounds a lot like the facility you already own... Ross: Yeah.. but you try and find a bunch of money marks who think they can make it as pro wrestlers in fucking Michigan. See we build one in the heart of New York City, we cater it to idiots with more money than brains. Charge them ridiculous prices off the name value alone, stick a clause in their contract about paying over a bit of everything they earn on their own. It practically prints money! Ross: Just think about it. The premier destination to learn this business, with your name on the door. You already poached anyone worth a damn in that company. Might as well poach their recruits as well. Dillinger puts his hand on his chin and smirks as the camera fades.
  9. To be honest I feel that sad Wrex only ever really existed due to the fact he can’t beat Bingo. Any other big losses he would just get up and try again and usually manage. But since he can’t seem to do that with bingo it drives him mad. Now that he’s got a single shot left the sad stuff is probably done with.
  10. The camera pans into a room that appears to be a study. Black sabbath playing low on a speaker system. Bookcases filled with DVDs and old video tapes with different promotions and dates reaching as far back as the 70’s written on them. A liquor cabinet full of random whiskeys and bourbons, a television in the corner of the room, mounted high up onto the wall with a muted replay of Chill Faktor. We turn and can see a trophy cabinet, inside, various awards and memorabilia, the most important looking being one half of the original 2018 CCW tag team titles, the other, the red leathered CCW championship, the scumciety logo still bolted onto the front. It should be no surprise when the camera pans one more time to the desk, a simple computer, a cigar box, cutter and lighter and a tv remote. Of course the items don’t matter as much as the man sitting in the chair watching the repeat on the tv. Alastair Ross, bartered, bruised and eight stapes still sitting in the back of his skull seems contempt with spending the rest of the day with a smoke in hand and a pack of zero percent beer by his feet. Of course that’s when the phone rings. Ross: Bill for fuck sake I told you I don’t need another fucking guest coach this week! Jim: Wrex? *Sigh* Wrex: …How did you get this number? Jim: The phone book, are you available for a quick interview? Wrex looks back up to the tv, the hacked feed of the Kumite just starting to begin. Wrex: Depends. Does it pay? Jim: No.. but! *Click* And this is where we would fade to black, if the phone didn’t continue to ring for another forty five minutes. Wrex: Do you ever stop? For fuck sake I’m not working my time off for nothing. Jim: I’ll PayPal you fifty bucks. Wrex hovers over the end call button again. But his screen monitor catches his eye. The homepage for chungs chicken, one of the few takeaway places that are actually willing to drive into the middle of nowhere to deliver. Wrex: ..Send it and you get five minutes. Within seconds his phone buzzes and while he’s setting a timer Black immediately starts. Jim: How are you feeling after that brutal ending to the Kumite. Wrex: I feel like shit, what do you want me to say? He dropped me head first into the side of the ring but nothing a few days and some painkillers won’t stop. Wrex: Look Jim. Let’s just skip the crap neither of us care about.. ask the question I know you’re dying to ask. Jim: ...Last night you told me that Chill Faktor would be your make or break on your career.. so tell me, which is it? Wrex: Depends one the time of night we’re talking about, after the match, break. Wrex: Now? Make. Jim: What changed. He thinks back to the talk he had in the trainer's room. Wrex: A deal with the devil.. which reminds me, you like your scoops, don’t you ya fuckin rat? Wrex: Well here you go, from this moment onwards, for the indefinite future I’m no longer in contention for the CCW championship, no loopholes, no favours, no asks. I’m out! Jim: But you’ve been a mainstay of the division for two and a half years. Wrex: And maybe that’s why I’m where I am. For years all I’ve done is focus on one thing, one person, one goal. Win, defend, lose and win again. And now I’m not even in the stage where I can reach the win part. And it drove me to the edge. Wrex: So now I’m going to do what I haven’t had the option to do in a long time. Pick my own battles, pick my own wars and my own goals. Jim: So what comes first then? Wrex: First? Well I’m glad you asked Jim…. first things first is that mother fu- Beep! beep! beep! Wrex: Would you look at that, times up. Talk soon. Jim: Huh? Wait a min- *Click.* He looks back down at his phone. The timer app asking if he wants to reset the two and a half minute countdown. Wrex: Sucker. With a laugh he turns the music back on and gets on with placing his giant order as we now actually fade to black.
  11. Alastair Ross (who wrestles under the ring name of Wrex) appeared to have suffered an injury at End Games and required help to the backstage area after his match with Nate Ortiz. It isn’t known at this time what caused the collapse after the match, but it has been previously rumoured (and acknowledged by the man himself before his match) that he had been working through serious injury and pains for the best part of the year. While the full extent of the injuries are not known currently, what has been confirmed is that the left rotator cuff (previously damaged at consequence’) has suffered a tear. Sources within the company have told us that surgery is being planned to try and repair the damage, along with other nagging issues. A long recovery time is expected, but even then. The man they call Mr. Turmoil might be a shadow of the performer he once was.
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