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Scene opens up in a snow-covered field, with a red barn in the background. It approaches the barn, where eventually we can see Snow sitting in the ring inside the barn.

SNOW: Circus Maximus was a great show, wasn't it? And now, the third season of Assault is upon us. And yet again, PWA is filled with characters from the despicable side of the tracks. But I find myself...unmotivated to be the gatekeeper yet again. Two seasons ago, I sent Brawler Beckett packing, yet here he is as part of this so called Union. Last season, I took Junior Cobra to task time and again for his mistreatment of young Arzon, but it seems each lesson just slid out his other ear. And at Circus Maximus, I took on both of my foes at the same time, and defeated them both.

And let's be completely honest here, despite my troubles with them, these two men are among the best light heavyweights in this company. I may not agree with their methods at all, but there's no arguing with their results, in PWA and elsewhere. And yours truly defeated them both at the same time.

Which brings me to another man that I have defeated. A man who has taken on competitor after competitor in the light heavyweight division, and defeated them all -- except for me. A man who has stood tall with the championship belt for more than 200 days now.

I speak, of course, of my friend, my partner in the Blood Brothers, Pantaro.

My friend, it is time. I chose to not push for a title shot before now, because I didn't want to abuse my friendship. But you have bested Jack Lane. I have bested the best of the rest. It is time for me to challenge you to another match. Next Assault -- Pantaro defends the Light Heavyweight Championship against his best friend Snow!

I phrase this as a challenge, but you and I both know that you will accept. It is what we do, you and I. So, amigo--prepare yourself. At Assault, we do battle. And I'm sorry to say that your time with the belt is at an end. When Assault is over, there will be a new champion.

The scene opens with KB sitting in the back of a beat up Chevy Silverado in the parking lot of the PWA area. He sits with a towel around his neck, red in the face but with a smile, and his arm propped up on an ice chest with his hand wrapped around a bottle of whiskey.

"First one down. Here I thought Beckett was the cream of the crop around here. I thought yall sent your best to snuff out 'The Heretics'... Turns out that aint the case."

KB takes a swig from the bottle.

"I gotta tell ya that's insulting. iNCW isn't good enough for PWA's best? I mean sure you sent Akira but after tonight I don't know if he's even under yalls flag.... Either way rest assured iNCW sent their best and their best is going to be the King around this place one Death Match at a time. And when I place that crown of barbed wire on me head, dawn the cloak of bloody shirts and thumb tacks, and raise the kendo stick scepter high as I sit on my throne of broken dreams and furniture... Know that I'll be waiting for you Damion.. Know that the King of Heathens, the King of Heretics, The King of Death Match will be coming for you."

KB hops out of the truck bottle still in hand, finishes off the last bit before smashing it against the truck bed and walking away.

(The scene opens on a ship heading into the San Diego bay. An African-American man with a peppered beard stands at the front of the ship wearing a purple and black samurai kimono with the camera zoomed in on him as he begins to speak.)

Man: America.....The Land of Opportunity. As I proceed to enter PWA I will embrace that opportunity....and ELIMINATE The Masked Shooter once and for all!

(The man sneers at the camera and continues to talk.)

Man: My real name will NEVER be known by you fans because I don’t want you harassing me for autographs or pictures with your ugly American children. I am known as The Imperial Assassin. I was born in Japan and have had the best training in martial arts and pro wrestling. I have been in this sport for a long time and beaten everyone there was to beat.....except for The Masked Shooter.

When both Shooter and I were younger we made our marks in this sport and I was approached by a promoter who promised to bring The Shooter over to Japan so that we could find out exactly who was the best. I signed a contract to wrestle but the match never came to be. The promoter and I got into an intense argument over this and he promised that he would make sure that I would NEVER be allowed to wrestle in The United States. That is EXACTLY what happened to me. I was blacklisted and couldn’t get any matches in the U.S..

(The Imperial Assassin rubs his hands together never taking his eyes off the camera.)

Assassin: Rather than complain I further honed my skills and dominated all of the wrestling organizations in Japan! I won every title there was to win but there was still something missing, something that needed to be taken care of. It has taken me YEARS but I finally found an American promotion that will allow me to test my skills and prove that I am the best in the world.

Shooter, after all of these years we WILL meet. I was told that the REAL reason that we never met in the ring was because you were afraid. It’s wise to be afraid of me, Shooter. It was wise to tell all of your American promoter friends to keep me in Japan so that you could be successful. It was wise..but short sighted. Neither of us are in our physical primes however I have prepared my body and mind for this exact moment.

(The Imperial Assassin pauses and strokes his beard contemplating his next words.)

Assassin: I now see why you wear a mask. Before, I thought your mask was used so that you could gain a psychological advantage over your opponent but in reality YOUR mask is a symbol of cowardice! The mask attempts to conceal your shame in running from me for years but the shame is too great! Not only do you lie to your country but you lie to a student that you are attempting to train, Ronnie Lassiter. You teach of honor and integrity when you have none!

I am coming to PWS to finish unsettled business but I’m not coming alone....

(The camera zooms out and shows a large hulking man with long brown hair, no shirt, and taped fists standing behind The Imperial Assassin. The man continues to punch his right hand into his left palm as The Imperial Assassin’s voice raises.)

Assassin: I’m bringing the force known all over Japan as “Crusher” Sato! Sato is MY protege and I have taken him to the greatest heights of professional wrestling in Japan. This is the most dangerous, most feared man in all of wrestling. Sato is 6’9 and well over 300 pounds of focused aggression! THIS is the future of pro wrestling, not anyone else! Shooter, do you even think for a moment that Lassiter would stand a chance against Sato? Your pompous American pride might say “Yes” but you would be wrong. Sato has dominated sumo, dominated all of the federations in Japan, and is coming to invade America! There is no one that can beat him!! Not Lassiter, not Ecks, not Tiger Gold.....no one!!

PWA, both Sato and I are coming to rule this promotion. We will dominate and bring honor to Japan. When we return to Japan we will be champions of whatever titles we have challenged for. Most importantly, when we return I will have the blood stained mask of The Shooter clutched in my hands because I will have proven my superiority to him.

Destiny awaits PWA........

(Both men turn and lean on the ship’s railing watching San Diego get closer as the scene fades to black.)

***The scene opens in the disheveled and messy sanctum of Cassidy Cray. Embroidered blankets and satin pillows are strewn in disarray around the room. A decorative copper water pipe lays broken and deformed in the far corner. The ornate stained-glass window that faces the small room’s eastern wall has been shattered. Early-morning sunlight glints and reflects off a myriad of glass shards that lay scattered across the floor. In the center of the room, staring unblinking out the broken window at the rising sun is Cassidy Cray. His silk pajamas are torn and scuffed. His hair hangs messily over his brow. He stares at the sun with dry, capillary streaked eyes.***

CRAY: “Do you know how it feels... to lose?”

***Cray’s mouth creases into a bitter, humorless smile.***

CRAY: “Do you know how it feels to lose... not only your way... not only your sense of purpose and being... not only your drive and motivation... but to lose the very vital ESSENCE that you rely upon for each and every breath you take on this mortal plane?”

***Cray’s smile fades and his eyes turn glassy.***

CRAY: “I know that feeling intimately. I know because... I have spent the better part of the past three months... staring into an abyss. With eyes stained with tears I have stared into a cold, meaningless void that I once fooled myself into thinking contained glory and wisdom and TRUTH.”

***Cray bows his head.***

CRAY: “Well... I suppose it does contain THAT at least. The abyss I feel in the pit of my soul does contain a single, undeniable truth.”

***Cray turns to the camera.***

CRAY: “I always thought that... in the grand dance of universal balance... that the Alpha and the Omega represented the totality of the human experience... all the good and the bad, the light and the dark, the mystery and the glorious enlightenment that comes to all things that embrace the truth honestly and without reservation.”

***Cray laughs hoarsely.***

CRAY: “And as it turns out, that may in fact be! However... it turns out that truth can be a bitter pill. For last season... when I faced hardship and a crisis of faith, I embraced the singularity and awaited salvation. I sat and meditated and sought the glorious embrace of the light and the life... and what was revealed to me chilled me to the bone.”

***Cray drags his fingers through his hair and exhales.***

CRAY: “I am a brittle leaf scattered in the wind. Every belief that I have clung desperately to has been shattered and sent hurling through the night.”

***Cray stretches his arm out toward the horizon and clenches his first.***

CRAY: “My closest ally... Bokrug Manaj... has betrayed me and shaken my beliefs to their foundation. At Circus Maximus I sought absolution through blood and twisted steel... and left feeling emptier than ever. Three times now my erstwhile brother and I have fought and with every battle I grow more lost.”

***Cray drops his hand loosely to his side.***

CRAY: “This week at Assault I will face my demons one final time. I am laid bare before the judgement of the PWA Armada as I stand in the ring with an unstoppable foe. Last season Ronnie Lassiter handed me my most crushing defeat. And THAT was when I was sure of myself and my purpose. What will happen now that I’ve lost everything I held dear in this world? Is this the final stand of Cassidy Cray? Well... now more than ever I know that no man can tell what the future truly holds. And Lassiter... maybe you aren’t here to snuff out my light once and for all. Maybe you’re here... to bear witness to my new becoming. An age of enlightenment may not be on the horizon... but something is. And one way or another... Cassidy Cray is ready to meet his fate.”

***Cassidy Cray takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Fade to black.***

***The scene opens in the halls of the PWA Arena. A camera crew is standing outside the trainer’s room. PWA reporter Ronnie Stockholm shifts his weight anxiously and checks his watch. After a moment... the door to the trainer’s room opens and Junior Cobra steps spryly into the hallway, followed gingerly by Giant Anaconda II, who is wearing an oversized puffy neck brace. Cobra takes a deep breath and grins when he sees the camera crew.***

COBRA: “Ah, I see you received my carrier pigeon. Fantastic. Welcome fake news media, to the first season-three press conference of the FIERCE and DEADLY Coldsnakes. You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you all here.”

***Stockholm and the camera crew exchange a confused look. Cobra doesn’t notice, but instead gestures grandly to his bare leg, visible and well oiled underneath his new, ornately decorated boxing trunks.***

COBRA: “No doubt, you have all noticed my amazing new pants. As the saying goes, “clothes maketh the man”, and MAN these clothes maketh me a badass! Ya see... when I was single-handedly solving the middle-east crisis over in Agrabah last season, I had the chance... nay... the HONOR to fight in the single most talent-stacked battle royal in wrestling history. For the first time on any continent, the world beheld the glory that was the ALL JUNIOR COBRA BATTLE ROYAL. Never before had such a top-shelf collection of wrestling royalty competed in a single match. Each and every competitor a world-class, champion caliber talent. But even better than all that... this match was contested under HIGHLANDER rules! That last part may not have been fully communicated to the at-home audience. There were technical difficulties with the broadcast.”

STOCKHOLM: “We were pulled off the air because you arranged an illegal and unauthorized broadcast featuring PWA intellectual property.”

COBRA: “...”

STOCKHOLM: “...”

COBRA: “Isn’t technology amazing?”

STOCKHOLM: “I hate you so... very much.”

***Cobra shoots enthusiastic finger guns at Stockholm.***

STOCKHOLM: “I can’t even begin to figure out how you managed to arrange...”

COBRA: “HIGHLANDER RULES Stockholm!”

STOCKHOLM: “What does that even mean? Like... the movie Highlander? You can only win by... cutting your opponent’s head off?”

COBRA: “What? That’s crazy! You’re a sick man Stockholm! What kind of barbaric maniacs do you take the glorious and austere people of Agrabah for?!”

STOCKHOLM: “But... in the movie Highlander they...”

COBRA: “They ABSORB THEIR OPPONENTS’ ESSENCE you hairy sack! You beat a guy, you get his powers!”

STOCKHOLM: “Oh right, right... wait, what?”

COBRA: “There can be only one!! Do you know how many Junior Cobras I beat in that battle royal?!”

STOCKHOLM: “Seven?”

COBRA: “EIGHT!”

STOCKHOLM: “...”

COBRA: “The ref was also a Junior Cobra.”

STOCKHOLM: “...”

COBRA: “I hit the ref with a chair and pinned him too.”

STOCKHOLM: “You won the battle royal.”

COBRA: “...let’s say I did.”

STOCKHOLM: “And you... absorbed the strength of all seven of your opponents.”

COBRA: “Yep.”

STOCKHOLM: “And the ref.”

COBRA: “Yep.”

STOCKHOLM: “Because of Highlander rules.”

COBRA: “Yep.

STOCKHOLM: “...”

COBRA: “...”

STOCKHOLM: “You now have the strength of eight Junior Cobras?”

COBRA: “NINE. I already had one full Junior Cobra of strength in me before the match.”

STOCKHOLM: “...of course.”

COBRA: “And NOW... logically... with the fighting spirits of nearly a baker’s dozen Junior Cobras inside me, my physical form now contains the combined martial arts knowledge of every fighting discipline I’ve ever heard of!

STOCKHOLM: “Now you know martial arts.”

COBRA: “ALL MARTIAL ARTS!”

STOCKHOLM: “Hence the fighting pants.”

COBRA: “HENCE THE PANTS!”

STOCKHOLM: “...I’m leaving.”

***Cobra grabs Stockholm firmly by the arm.***

COBRA: “AND NOW, as the FIERCE and DEADLY Coldsnakes enter the epic third season of PWA, we do so with a newfound power and purpose! Together, Giant Anaconda II and Junior Cobra... no, make that KING Cobra, shall stop at nothing to prove, once and for all, that these are the most amazing fighting pants in the history of pro wrestling! And it all begins this weekend, on the first PWA Assault of season three! In the opening round of the King of Deathmatch Tournament, I will face off against none other than the Surgical Specialist Akira Wyld! The entire world shall witness as the most stylishly clad in-ring martial artist in wrestling history puts on a fighting display the likes of which the world has never seen! The PWA Armada will marvel as I...”

STOCKHOLM: “Wait... waitamimute... what are you talking about?”

COBRA: “I’m talking about the start of the most amazing season of wrestling the world has ever seen Stockholm! It’s the start of season three and I am READY!”

STOCKHOLM: “But... but Junior Cobra...”

COBRA: “KING Cobra.”

STOCKHOLM: “I’m not calling you that... Cobra, you DO realize that the first Assault of season three happened LAST week right?”

COBRA: “...what now?”

STOCKHOLM: “You fought Akira Wyld LAST week.”

COBRA: “...did I win?”

STOCKHOLM: “No! You lost... very badly. One might say you were beaten faster and worse than almost any wrestler in PWA history.”

COBRA: “...huh.”

STOCKHOLM: “And after you lost, Akira Wyld, Brawler Beckett, Nakamura Yamasaki, Ragnarok and Gehenna came into the ring and beat you within an inch of your life.”

COBRA: “...huh.”

STOCKHOLM: “They also ambushed Anaconda backstage and beat him unconscious with chairs and broken table halves.”

***Cobra turns and looks at Anaconda in his oversized neck brace. Anaconda nods and shrugs, before wincing in pain and grabbing his neck.***

STOCKHOLM: “You were in a coma for six days. You just got out of the trainer’s room to see if you were cleared to come back to competition.”

COBRA: “...and... was I cleared?”

***Stockholm turns a questioning glance to Giant Anaconda, who shakes his head vigorously before wincing again in pain. Cobra glances at Anaconda, then back to Stockholm.***

COBRA: “I see... well... in that case...”

***He spins around and gives Anaconda a winning high-five, which Anaconda instinctively accepts before grabbing his neck in pain with both hands and falling to the floor groaning. Without missing a beat, Cobra spins back around to Stockholm.***

COBRA: “Whoooo-hooo! Paid vacation Ronnie! See you losers when I get medically cleared! Come on big guy, there’s a Subway Maui-chicken footlong across the street with my name on it!”

***Cobra bounds off down the hall, and Anaconda shakily crawls after him. Ronnie Stockholm turns to his camera crew and shakes his head. Fade to black.***

***The scene opens backstage at the PWA Arena. Akira Wyld is walking down a hallway. The camera tracks with him as he goes. Slung over his shoulder like a sword is a kendo stick in a custom-made scabbard. The handle of the wrapped stick is colored in the same cobalt blue of his ring gear. Wyld glances over his shoulder at the weapon and smirks. He turns to face the camera.***

WYLD: “Last week, the PWA locker room got a small sample of what happens when you disrespect the working man. On the first PWA Assault of season three... my esteemed associates and I gave a couple of the scabs who do Damion Black’s bidding a taste of what happens when you don’t respect your industry and when you don’t make the brave choice to stand up against the corporate suits who hold us down. WE are the backbone of this industry. WE are the lifeblood that courses through the veins of this entire sport. WE are the superstars who built the legends that all the sycophantic promoters have gotten rich off of. WE... are the working men. And when working men are treated like second-class citizens... they do what they have to to protect their interests. They form a UNION. Listen up PWA and listen good. WE are not your enemies. WE are, in fact... on your side. That is... if you are smart enough to know what side of the picket line you should be standing on. Stand with us, and you take your RIGHTFUL PLACE at the head of the table. Stand against us... and you find out what happens to scabs who don’t pay their union dues.”

***Wyld draws his kendo stick from its scabbard and taps it against his hand. ‘Union Dues’ has been written along its length.***

WYLD: “Kevin Starr. At Rise of Kings you won the PWA World Heavyweight Title. Good for you. Held it like a man all season too. During all that time... let me ask you... how many times did you put your foot down and hold Damion Black accountable for his... hypocrisy? Not a damn time. And why would you? You were sucking that gold-clad teat. You were flying high and partying and promoting the brand like a good corporate champion. Who can blame you? I mean... we’ve all been there. But let me ask you a question. How’s Black treating you these days? You’re old news. You’ve barely been mentioned on any PWA press releases since you dropped your 10 pounds of gold. How does that make you feel?”

***Wyld holds the stick out in a mock swing and stares down the length of it with one eye closed.***

WYLD: “If i were you.. I’d feel used. Disrespected. Angry. Sounds to me like you could use a little support from some like-minded friends. So... here’s your one offer. This is a one-time deal with a short expiration date. You and I have a match scheduled for tomorrow at Assault. In that match... do the smart thing. LAY DOWN. Take one for THE TEAM. It will send the right message to my associates... and maybe we can help bring you back to the main event where you belong.”

***Akira cracks the kendo stick hard against the wall and looks at it with a bemused expression on his face.***

WYLD: “That’s one option. The other... is that you fight the good fight like the champion you are... and lose clean in the middle of the ring like you did the LAST time we fought. I wouldn’t go for that option if I were you. That’s the hard way... and if you make this hard, then I promise you that staring up at the lights for a three count will only be the start of your problems. WE are taking over Starr... and one way or the other, everyone in PWA is going to pay their union dues.”

***Wyld casually re-holsters his kendo stick and adjusts the strap as he smirks toward the camera. Fade to black.***

Scene ooens up at the 24hour fitness in Oceanside California. The afterMATH X are seen training and watching the promos of the PWA wrestlers.

Ecks: man, ain't that some sh*t?! Akira Wyld acting like he king fish all of a sudden and his goons, be acting like they did a number of some super heavyweight. It was Junior Cobra bro. The guy weights at about a buck and a half soking wet with a brick in his d*ck.

Bro, why don't you try that sh*t on me man?

Mj1: yo B what about that Snowmang and Pantermang, mang?

Ecks: Well we will answer that in a few hours man.

Mj1: yo B, that sounds like a plan, B!

Ecks: and yeah man. Don't worry bout nuttin! We got this! Just sick of all the sh*t going on around here and no one is respectin us! Mark my words! They will respect of get kicked in the face!!!

Mj1: Damn right, B!

Scene fades to black