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*** As THE MASKED SHOOTER, II fends off the THE MASKED SABOTEURS, AKIRA WYLD bridges high, cranking as much as leveraging the Akira Lock on the champion VICTOR SOKOLOV, blood still pouring down the monster’s face and chest! Sokolov clings to the middle rope, not to break the hold as the match is over, but to pull away from the vicious hold. GEORGE PRESCOTT, III grabs a nearby steel chair and folds it up; he sneaks into the ring out of Wyld’s line of sight.
The Masked Shooter sends one of the Saboteurs through the ropes and into the barricade, stunning him for the moment, as the other assailant slips behind the Shooter and tries to lock in a cobra clutch, but Shooter whips him around and into an armbar that transitions into a suffocating sleeper hold! The Sab, caught off guard, flails in a sudden panic, unable to either break the Shooter’s power nor outplay his technique.
As the second Saboteur fades, Sokolov finally leverages out of the Akira Lock and rolls under the bottom rope to the floor. Wyld quickly spins around and stands – to come face to face with Prescott, chair high above his head, caught ready to strike! Prescott blanches, shaking his head and backpedaling as Wyld stalks toward him. Prescott drops the chair and just gets a defiant finger up to protest when Wyld grabs him by the coat collar and shakes him. Prescott screams! Whipping him from one side and then to the other, Wyld sends Prescott out through the ropes and into Sokolov!
The Shooter rolls the unconscious Saboteur out of the ring. As the first one starts to drag his partner up the aisle to the locker rooms, a defiant and bleeding Sokolov and a shaken King of Managers also make there way to the back. Sokolov glares back; Prescott holds his ear and stumbles.
It is then that the two remaining wrestlers look at each other, both still trying to catch their breaths. Akira is smeared with Sokolov’s blood; Shooter is covered with both Sokolov’s and his own.
Wyld begins talking, the difficulty he shows indicating that, once more, he is trying to make amends. The Masked Shooter, occasionally wiping the blood from his eyes, watches him without expression. Finally, Wyld offers his hand. Shooter takes it …
… and yanks Wyld into a hard short-arm lariat, sending Wyld ass-over-tea-kettle! Wyld tries to shake it off as the Shooter looms over him. Then, the Masked Shooter offers his own hand to help Wyld up. In response, Wyld rolls out of the ring and heads up the aisle, steadying himself along the barricades.
As Wyld makes his way to the back, he glares daggers back at the Shooter. The bleeding masked man, still standing in the middle of the ring, watches Wyld, then pulls his hands across his waist, indicating his intention for the heavyweight title. ***