Heck of a show guys!

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Isaiah rolls onto his stomach, his breath ragged, his fist pounding the mat in frustration as the weight of the moment crushes down on him. Above him, the championship is wrenched from his grasp, his championship, his crown, now raised high in the bloodied hands of James Shark. The throne he hadnt even gotten to sit on, gone.

The camera lingers on Isaiah’s face, sweat mixing with fury as he lifts his head, locking eyes with the hard cam. His lips move, the words unspoken yet deafening.

"Soon but not yet."

Without another glance, he pushes himself up and rolls from the ring, leaving Shark to bask in his triumph. Isaiah steps off the stage and into the shadows, slipping through the crowd, past the red curtains of the Shakespeare Theatre. He vanishes into the night, lighter than when he arrived but carrying the weight of what comes next.