The show resumed, and several more matches passed before the main event. It was between Lagoon Goon, who Mitch went feral on as soon as they emerged, and Sandy, who was determined to avenge him. Jodie had granted her the opportunity after an excessive amount of pleading, despite Mitch and Louis’ protests. During her entrance, she pointed finger guns at him from the ring while she was hoisted up on Louis’ shoulder; while it was touching, for the first time since the injury, it sank in how much he missed being up there with the two of them.

“Bit of a mismatch on paper,” Rod commented somewhere between his real voice and his broadcaster voice, and Mitch blinked a few times as his brain absorbed that the sentiment was genuine. Lagoon Good practically towered over Sandy’s petite 5’ frame, and was twice as wide as her. They locked up, and Sandy’s arms trembled as she tried to hold her own, but she ended up mercilessly thrown down onto the mat. She attempted a few bodychecks, but Goon did not budge.

“Quit trying to show off, Sandy!” Mitch shouted into his microphone, aggravated that she’d already thrown out the strategy he and Louis had helped her with and was falling for every attempt that Goon made to rile her up. Eventually, Louis started to pound the mat, and the audience clapped along to the rhythm that he had set; this seemed to be the wake-up call that she needed, and the focus was shifted towards the speed advantage that she’d possessed.

For a few minutes, she stayed clear of the canvas and continued to use the ropes and posts as she went on the offense, desperately scrambling to get as many crossbodies and senton variations in before Lagoon Goon wisened up to her strategy. Her final maneuver was a missile dropkick to the other corner of the ring, which earned a raucous applause. Mitch stood up, hand clutching his own hair as he turned to Rod in disbelief and yelled, “When the fuck did she learn Coast-to-Coast?!”

However, it wasn’t a surprise when the tides turned, and Sandy could not get the win; once Lagoon Goon got a hold of their opponent and started a devastating sequence of tiger suplexes, the match was as good as over. Sandy only ever had a handful of singles matches, and Lagoon Goon had more years experience under their belt. Yet, though she’d given it her all, she’d gotten pinned, the bell rang, and the referee had raised Lagoon Goon’s arm in victory. Sandy lay on the mat, breathing heavily and arm draped over her eyes, and Mitch excused himself from the commentary table to rush over to join Louis in checking on her.

“Hey kiddo,” he knelt down and moved her arm, tutting softly when he saw the tears of frustration she was hiding. “You did great.”

“I wanted to win for you,” she whimpered, not maintaining eye contact.

“Goon’s really tough,” he smiled, and smoothed out her hair. “You’ll get ’em next time, though.”

“Uh, hey,” Louis tapped Mitch between the shoulder blades to get his attention. “They’re chanting your name, dude.”

Mitch’s face scrunched in confusion, and his eyes went wide as he finally caught onto the loud ZE-VON ZE-VON ZE-VON that had erupted around the room. Always the heel, he’d never gotten that sort of reaction before, but now wasn’t the time to relish in it. “Let’s get her up,” he mouthed at Louis, who slipped his hands beneath her back and hooked them under her armpits. She was limp as he moved her, but she managed to stand on her own once she was set on her feet. With his good arm, Mitch lifted her’s into the air, and the chants immediately turned to SAN-DY SAN-DY SAN-DY. Though she was still crying, the corners of her mouth crept upwards until she broke out into giggle. Wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm, she looked back and forth between Louis and Mitch, and hugged them both.

Boisterous applause broke out, and alternating chants of Sandy’s name and BAD MOON RI-SING, along with claps, followed. “What the fuck? Are we finally over?” Mitch wondered out loud in their huddle.

“Think so,” Louis muttered, equally baffled.