This week, we’re going to mix things up a little bit. Where you, our loyal viewers, have grown accustomed to Muse’s “Assassin” and an opening video package, instead we find our Foundation Heavyweight Champion: one Diamond Del Carver.

(JB) Welcome to Annihilation, fans! I’m JB Mann.

(Tom) And I’m appalled!

With Carver, oddly enough, is sworn enemy Trevor Cunning. What be this, you may be asking? Simply put, Diamond Del is beating Cunning like the proverbial government mule.

(Tom) This is nothing more than assault, Mann-wheel!

(JB) It’s called payback, Bear, for the beatings the Trust Fund Kids have dealt Carver over the past few weeks.

Carver has a steel pipe in his hands and is following after the ever-fleeing yuppie. Cunning is already bleeding from the forehead and is running away with a slight limp.

(Tom) I don’t care, Mann-Wagon! Cunning has never hit Carver with a damn steel pipe!

(JB) No, he only hit him with a steel chair, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a sold steel keg full of beer!

(Tom) I give you pacifism, you give me semantics!

Unfortunately for you, dear viewers, these two couldn’t wait until cameras were rolling to start brawling. Carver follows after Cunning, cracking him on the small of the back with the steel pipe. Once Cunning arches his back as if he’s in a Herbal Essences commercial, Carver walks around and cracks him square in the gut with the pipe. Cunning falls doubles over, and Carver drops the pipe, grabs Cunning by the hair and back of the jeans, and tosses him into the gorilla position.

(JB) Cunning is bleeding like a stuck pig!

(Tom) Carver’s going to pay for this, Mann-Wheel, just you… Wait… Wait… put that down!

(JB) Carver sure means business tonight!

Carver retrieves his pipe, grips it like a baseball bat, and swings for the fences.

(Tom) Thank Gord almighty!

(JB) Since when did you become a religious man?

(Tom) When your mother told me she was pregnant.

Luckily for Trevor, he is able to duck in time, but unfortunately for the Godfather, he falls out onto the ramp and into the arena.

(Tom) Didn’t we go through the beginning of the show already?

(JB) This brawl was slightly impromptu, Bear.

Now on top of the entrance ramp, we see the Annihilation on TNT set, ready for the shows beginning. “Assassin” by Muse is still playing over the public address as Diamond Del walks through the apron to a monstrous pop. Steel pipe in hand, he stalks Cunning to the center of the ramp. He again doubles Cunning over with a pipe shot, before uppercutting the pipe into Cunning’s face.

(Tom) Where the hell are all the referees? They sure are taking their sweet time!

(JB) Fair’s fair, Bear.

Cunning tumbles backwards, ass over head, somersaulting faster and faster down the ramp, a white collared snowball out of control.

(JB) Now this is an act of…

(Tom) Gord damnit! You have to be kidding me!

Be it coincidence or perfect timing, the opening pyro goes off, exploding down the ramp towards a climax surrounding Trevor. The NAFW Original stands for just a second regaining a vertical basis amidst the sparks and loud noises, only to Flair Flop a moment later on the steel and concrete.

(JB) I guess they’re on time delay.

(Tom) He’ll be lucky if he isn’t deaf!

Carver tosses the pipe aside, choosing instead to use his fists. He backs Cunning up against the steel ring steps and begins raining lefts and rights down upon his skull. James Elbourn and Hurl Debner are out to pull Del Carver off of Cunning, but before they can get Carver up towards the ramp, Carver has knocked both of them on their asses with right hands.

(Tom) Now he’s putting his hands on the refs? You support this, Mann-a-tee?

(JB) I don’t like Del’s methods, Bear, but I agree with his purpose.

Cunning rolls in the ring, trying all he can to escape. Carver climbs the ring steps, removes the Foundation Heavyweight Championship from around his waist, and steps between the ropes.

(JB) Listen to the fans, Bear… how solidly they’re behind Del Carver!

(Tom) All I can hear is the tears, the gnashing and moaning from the women in the audience! How can Carver destroy such a beautiful man?

(JB) …

(Tom) What?

(JB) There’s nothing beautiful about Cunning, Bear.

(Tom) You checked him out? Wow, your mother was right about you.

Cunning is on his knees in the center of the ring, begging Del Carver just to let him go. The blood pouring from his forehead has stained his golden locks a vivid pink hue, Carver tells him to stand up.

(JB) I am so glad I decided to DVR the show tonight!

(Tom) This is shameful! Del Carver should be ashamed of himself!

Cunning climbs to his feet, using the ropes for balance. He falls back against the top rope, both weak and open to assault. Carver, gripping the title belt in his hands, rears back and shoots forward, but before he can blast Cunning upside the skull with the Championship belt, the remaining NAFW referees have pulled Cunning from the ring.

(Tom) Thank Gord! Thank Jeebus! Thank the Word itself!

(JB) Cunning has been saved by the referees… but conspicuous by his absence is Cunning’s running buddy Keith Owens.

Carver climbs the turnbuckle and holds the title high over his head, screaming at Cunning as the referees drag his limp carcass up the ramp. Del descends amidst a chorus of praise, and asks for a microphone. The Hardcore Outlaw slings the belt over his shoulder, takes the microphone in his hand, and starts to pace around the ring as he rants…

(DDC) I am NOT a violent man by nature.

The fans roar with laughter. Carver stops pacing around, and an amused expression comes over his face.

(DDC) Okay, well yeah…I am a violent man by nature…but it’s not my way to go around trying to bash people’s heads in for no reason. The thing is…this week…and from here on out, I have a reason.

The damn Trust Fund Kids.

Ever since I set foot here in the NAFW, Cunning and Owens have taken turns making my life miserable. They mocked me. They spat on me. They attacked me. They disrespected me in every way you could possibly imagine, and by gawd enough is enough!

The fans cheer in appreciation.

(DDC) See, I have a goal here. I have a mission. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. My plan is to wear and defend the Foundation Heavyweight Championship title with all of the honor and respect that this belt deserves. Not for me. For you. For that.

Carver points out to the fans, and then points up at the NAFW logo hanging in the rafters.

(DDC) This isn’t about me. It’s about the NAFW. It’s about the number one man in the organization being a man who cares about the fans, the people who pay his salary. It’s about the Foundation Heavyweight Champion being a man who will stand up for what is right…and believe me, the damn Trust Fund Kids? They ain’t right.

I’m not just doing this for revenge anymore. Oh no. See, I got my revenge at Ultimate Showdown…and when you carry this belt, you can’t be worried about what you want yourself, you have to worry about what is best for the entire organization. And I know that what is best for the entire organization is NO MORE TRUST FUND KIDS. No more cheating. No more selfishness. No more disrespect.

So the days of old Diamond Del being your personal punching bag boys? Them days are over. Say hello to the new Diamond Del Carver. The man who carries the responsibilities on his back, because of the gold around his waist. A man who will stand up to you, and drive you OUT of the NAFW if I have to.

Why?

Because I am Diamond Del Carver…and I Do Whatever I Have To Do…FOR THE NAFW!

Diamond Del Carver throws down the microphone, as “South Texas Deathride” starts to pound from the speakers. Carver rolls out of the ring, jumps over the railing, and charges headlong into the crowd, where he is surrounded by fans who slap him on the back or reach out to give him a high five.

The logo for the show tonight quickly flashes by the screen to remind us that the show IS officially underway.

ON

(JB) What a start to tonight's festivities courtesy of our new Foundation Heavyweight Champion beating down Trevor Cunning.

(Tom) What an absolute disgrace of a champion.

(JB) He beat Keith Owens fair and square to capture the title and the honor of winning Ultimate Showdown.

(Tom) Bah. He won't get away with what he just did to Cunning.

We’re going backstage for a moment or three. Our sight brings us up on an empty locker room, empty bar the one person sitting on a bench. His head is down in thought, until the camera approaches our subject, when he raises it and we realise it’s Andy D.

(Andy) You could be wondering why I’m sitting in an empty locker room just moments from my match. Well I could be doing some Zen like technique to visualise winning and stuff, but no. I have finally been granted by the higher ups to have a couple of minutes on the air. So why am I in a locker room instead of standing in a hallway with the NAFW logo behind my back?

Andy takes a moment to let viewers answer the question, as well as taking his white bucket hat off the bench beside him to put it on his head.

(Andy) Well I was trained in the art of the promo by 2Morons. They said that The Generic Promotional Background was where you shot these promos from and you should always cut them there. At that moment I decided that I would shoot my promos anywhere but in front of a Generic Promotional Background, thus why I’m in here.

Another moment’s respite while Andy grabs his sunglasses and places them upon his face

(Andy) But time runs short and I’m in a triple threat match in a matter of moments. Jester Smiles, seems like nothing more than a joker. And while I know a little something about wrestling jokers, he’s probably more funny and defiantly a better wrestler than the 2Morons I train against. Ainsley Lake is a woman wrestler. I have no problem with that. My mother may have raised me to never to hit a woman, but she also raised me that if a woman hit me first, it’s all fair game.

One last respite as Andy checks everything is in place and all laces are tied up.

(Andy) So what’s left to say, what else can I mention? How about how I’m going to win this match? How about how I’m going to climb the ranks and gain gold? Well I’ll tell you exactly what I can tell you right now. I’m… out of time?

That surprised tone in Andy’s voice plus his quick look past the camera to either it’s operator or a director or something is really the last thing we see, since the feed then cuts out and we cut to to the announce table.

(Tom) Wow. That was inspiring.

(JB) Well, Andy D might not be the best at the trash talking, but perhaps he'll prove himself in the ring, because his match is next.

"Kiss Me Deadly", as covered by Reel Big Fish, starts to play over the speaker system. Ainsley Lake comes jogging out, her mouth moving to sing along to the lyrics, her smile bright. She does a front flip, before starting to job again. She high fives the people in the crowd, speeding up and swinging herself into the ring from the ropes. She does a backflip once she gets into the ring, blowing kisses to the fans when she stands up, waiting in her corner impatiently for the match to start.

As the "Entry of the Gladiators" kicks in, the lights begin to flash with green and purple. About 8 seconds in, Jester walks out from the back, looking down at the ground. As the main chorus line kicks in, Eric looks up into the sky suddenly, throws his arms out with his hands balled into a fist, and screams "BOOYA!" into the sky, which is followed by two green pryos going off. He then dances his way down to the ring, high-fiving the fans, looking as goofy and ridiculous as possible.

Upon reaching the apron, he leaps up onto the ring apron in one jump, grabs hold of the top ropes, and bends backward, again screaming "BOOYA!". He then gets in the ring and begins to taunt to the crowd on two opposing turnbuckles.

The 'Ace' Signature logo appears on screen. A large '1' is spray panted over the top before Keep Yourself Alive II kicks in over the PA. Andy comes out and heads towards the ring, hand slapping a couple of the audience along the way. Andy climbs into the ring and heads to his turnbuckle, flipping his bucket hat off his head and placing on the metal part of the turnbuckle. He takes off his shades and places them on the hat before turning around ready for the match.

(Troy) This match is a Triple Threat Match, scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit!

The fans cheer loudly...

(Troy) Introducing first, in the far corner, hailing from Richmond, Virginia and weighing in at 245 pounds here is JESTER SMILES!

The big man gets a good ovation as Troy Gilmore continues the introductions…

(Troy) In the corner to his left, hailing from the United Kingdom and weighing 197 pounds…here is ANDY D!

The Ace gets a somewhat restrained reaction…

(Troy) And in the corner to his left…hailing from Wantagh, New York she tips the scales at 160 pounds…this is AINSLEY LAKE!

The cheers continue, and intensify, as referee Dave Conners slides into the ring, and calls for the bell to officially start the match. The three competitors approach the center of the ring warily, eyeing each other. Suddenly, Andy D flattens Ainsley Lake with a lightening quick boot to the face, catching the female superstar totally off guard. Ainsley Lake is stunned by the kick and collapses to the mat. Andy D leaps to the air and follows up with an elbow drop. Andy D looks to Jester, and nods. Jester nods back, and runs into the far rope, comes off, and nails the prone Ainsley Lake with a running leg drop. Smiles is so much bigger than both Andy and Ainsley that the ring bounces with the impact.

Andy D pulls the stunned Ainsley Lake to her feet, and holds her in a standing position. Jester nails Ainsley Lake with a big boot. Ainsley Lake's head snaps back sickly, but Andy D holds her upright, and will not let her fall to the mat. Andy D goes behind, and executes a Belly to Back Suplex on the reeling Ainsley Lake. Andy D pulls Ainsley to her feet again, and goes behind, securing her arms. As the fans boo loudly, Jester starts to bury punches to the midsection of the helpless Ainsley Lake.

(Tom) HA! This is GREAT! Everybody knows that Lake is a woman and shouldn't be out here...so Andy D and Smiles are working together to take her out of this match!

(JB) Well, you and I both know that this alliance won't last long...they never do in three way matches, but you're right. With Lake as the underdog due to her size and gender, I don't like her chances here!

Andy D still has Ainsley Lake's arms secured behind her back, and Jester continues to slug away at her midriff. Finally, Jester grabs one of Ainsley Lake's arms, and Andy D secures the other. In unison, both men throw Ainsley Lake across the ring, into the ropes. Smiles and Andy D link arms, to attempt the double clothesline on Ainsley Lake as she rebounds. Ainsley Lake comes across, but ducks the double clothesline attempt, rebounds off the ropes again, and nails the shocked Jester and Andy D with a flying double clothesline of her own! The fans cheer at Ainsley Lake's comeback against the odds. Ainsley Lake executes a standing Pele kick on Smiles, who hits the mat in shock. Ainsley Lake gets up, and drops Andy D to the mat with a super fast flying spinning heel kick, just as Andy D was starting to get up from the clothesline.

(JB) Listen to this crowd, as Ainsley Lake takes it to Jester and Andy D! These people love this gal! Ainsley Lake has the underdog appeal!

(Tom) No, the reason they’re cheering is because they’re wrestling fans, and this is the closest they’ve ever been to real, live woman. Most women these fans see are downloaded off the net.

Jester is lying on the mat clutching his head, and Andy D starts to get back up from the kick. Ainsley Lake scrambles to the apron, and climbs to the top rope, as the fans buzz in anticipation. As Andy D stands up, Ainsley Lake flies off the top rope, and flattens him with a missile drop kick. Ainsley Lake goes for a cover! One…Two…NO! Andy D kicks out with authority. Ainsley gets up, however her back is turned to Jester Smiles. As Ainsley Lake is getting up, Smiles nails her right in the kidneys with a brutal punch. Ainsley Lake doubles over. Smiles hooks up Ainsley Lake and executes a back suplex. Jester drops onto Ainsley Lake for a cover…

(Tom) Cover by Jester!

(JB) One…WHOA! Andy D just got up and booted Jester in the head to break the count! Jester is pissed! Look at him! No allies in here after all!

Smiles gets off Ainsley Lake, holding the side of his head where Andy D kicked him. Jester angrily shoves Andy D with both hands, and appears to be cursing. Andy D stumbles backwards, and then looks at Jester, enraged. Andy D shoves back. The fans start to cheer. Andy D and Jester stand toe to toe, eye to eye for a moment. Andy D fires a right cross at Jester, which connects solidly. Jester's head snaps back upon the impact, however he stands his ground. Jester looks back at Andy D, and then suddenly fires a left hook, which connects as well, staggering Andy D. Andy D responds with another cross. Jester replies with a hook. Andy D retaliates. So does Jester. Both men start to fire lightening quick, but bone crunching punches at each other, back and forth, give and take. The fans come to their feet as Andy D and Jester pound and pummel each other. This is a perfect chance for Ainsley Lake to get some rest, as her opponents turn on each other.

Andy D and Jester continue to pound away at each other. Ainsley Lake starts to rise to her feet, as Dave Conners finally interjects, and starts warning both men that if they do not stop using closed fists, they will be disqualified. For a moment, Ainsley Lake stares at her two opponents, who are brutalizing each other. Finally, Ainsley climbs to the outside again, and jumps to the top rope. As flashbulbs pop, Ainsley Lake vaults herself at BOTH Andy D and Jester, and catches them totally off-guard with a DOUBLE high cross body!

All three competitors come crashing to the mat in one big heap!

(Tom) Look at THIS! Ainsley Lake trying to pin BOTH men at ONCE!

(JB) HA! Cute, but that got her nowhere! They threw her off, before the ref could even get down for a ONE count!

Andy D and Jester Smiles are both a bit disoriented but for a moment they get to their feet, and seem to forget their differences. Smiles drops Ainsley Lake to the mat with a huge shouldertackle. Andy D and Jester start to stomp away on the fallen Ainsley Lake, in unison. Ainsley Lake covers her head, but both men viciously and brutally stomp away at Lake as she lies prone on the mat. To escape the joint stomping, Ainsley Lake weakly rolls onto the apron. Smiles starts to go after her, turning his back on Andy D! Andy D takes advantage. Andy D sneaks up behind Jester, and locks him up, and then fires him backward with a back suplex of his own!


(Tom) That folded Jester up nicely!

(JB) You don't turn your back on your opponents in a Triple Threat Match.

Andy D circles around the stunned Jester, who is still on his back. Andy D jumps into the air, and then comes down, dropping a HUGE knee across the chest of Smiles. Jester convulses, as Andy D heads to the corner. Andy D climbs to the second rope, and then comes flying off, with a SHOOTING STAR PRESS!

(Tom) Cover by Andy D!

(JB) One! Two! Wait! Ainsley Lake just grabbed Andy D's leg to break the count!

Ainsley Lake pulls the surprised Andy D to his feet, and nimbly ducks his angry punch attempt. Ainsley Lake grabs Andy D by the wrist, and Irish Whips him, right into the brutal clothesline of Jester Smiles! Andy D collapses to the mat! Just as Jester is starting to get up. Ainsley Lake grabs Smiles, and attempts a knee lift, but the much bigger and stronger Jester pulls away, and deftly drops Ainsley Lake with a single leg trip! Smiles takes advantage, and stomps on Ainsley Lake a couple of times.

Once he has her softened up, Jester drives Ainsley Lake to the mat and starts to lock her up…in his patented version of the Texas Cloverleaf! Jester has Ainsley Lake locked in perfectly, dead in the center of the ring. Ainsley Lake starts to thrash around in great pain, as Jester leans back to add extra strain. The referee drops down to check on Ainsley Lake. Dave Conners asks Ainsley Lake if she wants to give up. Ainsley Lake grits her teeth and shakes her head, but she is obviously in immense pain.

On the other side of the ring, Andy D starts to stir. He pulls himself to his knees, and leans on the ropes…still feeling the effects of the double team from Smiles and Lake. Andy D's eyes widen, as he sees Jester clamping on Ainsley Lake. Andy D stumbles up behind Jester, and suddenly, NAILS him right in the back of the head…with an enziguri!

(Tom) That will break the hold!

(JB) Too bad for Jester, he had that hold really locked in!

Smiles lays on the mat face first, holding the back of his head and neck, where Andy D kicked him. Ainsley Lake lies on her back next to him, still in pain from the submission hold by Jester. Andy D looks at both his opponents for a split second, and then drops over Ainsley Lake for the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Andy D was about to get the pin, but Jester reached over at the LAST second and broke it up with a double axe handle across the back of Andy D! All three competitors now lay on the mat, exhausted. Andy D is still shaken up from being driven into the mat by the clothesline, Jester is still reeling from the kick to the head, and Ainsley Lake is in great pain from the Texas Cloverleaf. The referee stands over all three competitors, and starts to administer the standing 10 count, as the fans count along…

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

FOUR.

FIVE.

All three start to stir.

SIX.

SEVEN.

Incredibly, all three roll to different sides of the ring, and start to use the ropes to pull themselves up!

EIGHT.

NINE!

Before the ref can count TEN…all three have reached their feet!

Andy D seems the most alert of the three. Andy D staggers over towards Jester, and starts to lay some brutal knife-edge chops across his chest. Ainsley Lake is still leaning on the ropes. Andy D gets the upper hand, and Irish Whips Smiles into the ropes. Smiles comes off the ropes, but then jumps into air, and wraps his forearms around Andy D's neck and falls with him, slamming him onto the mat with a wicked spinebuster!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Ainsley breaks it up! Andy D rolls around on the mat, holding the back of his head and cussing in anger. Jester Smiles starts to argue with the referee, claiming that he got the three count. While Jester is yelling at the referee, Andy slowly gets up, looking around in confusion…he turns around…to see Ainsley Lake standing on the top rope in the opposite corner! Ainsley Lake flies across the ring, looking to hit Andy D with with a missile dropkick, but he ducks. Instead she connects with Jester who wasn't paying attention due to fighting with the ref! She hooks the leg, as the ref turns around, drops down, and makes the count…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The bell sounds, as Ainsley's music starts to blast! Ainsley Lake pins Jester Smiles!

(Troy) HERE IS YOUR WINNER…AINSLEY LAKE!!!

Ainsley rolls out of the ring to a loud chorus of cheers. Andy D. gets to his knees, still holding the back of his head, having nearly been the victim of that dropkick himself. Dave Conners kneels down to check on Andy D as Jester Smiles shakes his head in disbelief. The camera goes to the broadcast position…

(JB) What a win for Ainsley Lake! The former SHOOT Project superstar shows the world that she is one of the best!

(Tom) Women shouldn't wrestle. Ever. The end.

The camera cuts to the back of the arena where we see the doors. Nothing special about that, right? What is special is what’s about to come through those doors. The door opens and a man wearing a black sweatshirt with his Reaper’s logo on the front of it walks through lugging his black bag over his shoulder with a hood over his head. The fans pop like mad over the much anticipated in-ring return of “The Reaper” Leonard Aarons tonight as he takes on Dwayne Bishop. He walks in with a rather indescribable look on his face, as the hood shrouds his face obviously. As he walks down the hall toward his dressing room, there is a rather determined stride in his step. It’s here that Rick Priestly runs into the picture, trying to catch up to the Jersey native who stops as he looks down at Rick.

(Rick) Ladies and gentlemen, I’m standing here with…

(Aarons) Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there Ricky. I think the good folks out there know who I am, but if not…allow me to reintroduce myself I am The REA-PER. L to the A 3. Now, you see how I did it like that? More gusto, more flair. Now, go on.

(Rick) Well, at Ultimate Showdown you called out Dwayne Bishop and a lot of people are wondering why? He’s fresh off of a loss to the current Foundation Heavyweight Champion and…

Again, Aarons interrupts Rick as he brings up his left hand while shaking his head rather subtle like from side to side.

(Aarons) He’s probably all bent out of shape about things, right? Probably pulled a little something out of his ass…like this…

He stops to clear his throat as he drops his bag and speaks in a really deep, fairly funny voice mocking Bishop.

(Aarons) I got beat at Ultimate Showdown by DDC, but that’s okay, because losing is what I do and do well. I accept defeat because defeat is I and I am it. So I’m going to go ahead and move on to tonight, when I’m gonna talk a big game like I’m going to beat The Reaper. Because after all, I’m…THE BEAST and he’s not.

(Rick) Well…

(Aarons) Hold on, I think I’d reply to something like that with something like this.

He clears his throat, flipping back his hood to reveal his freshly cut head with the waves looking as crisp as can be staring into the camera as he waves a rather arrogant ‘hello’ to Dwayne.

(Aarons) Hi there, Chess Piece. I hear tell that you’re a wee bit salty over how things went for ya at Ultimate Showdown. Yeah, I know, you probably got some excuse we haven’t heard and don’t care to hear about why you lost…or even why tonight’s going to be different. But here’s the thing, Chess Piece. I’ve heard this song before and forgive me for being the proverbial Doubting Tom here, but you and I both know how this ends up.

Beat.

(Aarons) Me winning. You losing. Your career going nowhere fast, yours truly catching the train straight to the top of the mountain with very few stops in between. Because come to think of it, prior to my leaving...I only lost...ONCE. Bottom line is you try to denounce what I did prior to the NAFW shutting down as if it didn’t happen. Well, sorry holmes but much like you trying to make people forget that you couldn’t beat a forty something year old with a bum hip and bad ribs…it happened and there’s nothing you can do to change that. You see, I’ve had gold on my shoulder everywhere I’ve gone in my career. NAFW’s been no different, only now, I’m after that FHC gold. And I don’t care if it’s Diamond Del or that Indifference Maker Keith I Got Owned…

That draws a rather funny pop from the fans as he mocks Owens.

(Aarons) I’m going to raise that Foundation Heavyweight Championship over my head at the end of the day when it’s all said and done. I mean, maybe your problem is the fact that here in the NAFW…you’ve had nothing to speak of. Other than how the fans did you like this and why you chose to be like that. Well, tonight, for all of the peoples out there who give me love…I’m gonna give it right back by putting you…Dwayne Chess Piece down and out. Because THAT…is the gospel according to The Reaper and you will FEEL…MY…

The fans chant in unison with the Jersey native whose eyes narrow with intensity as he says as only he can…

(Aarons) WRATH!!!

He storms off with his hood thrown back over his head as a set of high heels can be heard approaching from the opposite direction Aarons is heading in. Rick happens to catch a glance of who this mystery woman is and his jaw virtually drops as she walks right by him, only her identity isn’t revealed since there’s a veil concealing her from the camera.

(JB) Welcome back to Annihilation everybody!

Essex then leads the behemoth towards the ring, instructing him to scale the steel ring steps, and makes his way to the opposite corner as Hush steps over the top rope, scaling it as though it were the Sears Tower. Hush is then led to the middle of the ring and instructed to stay put as Essex crosses the ring, grabs a mic from a nearby stagehand, and begins to speak.

(Essex) Derelicts and whores of Chicago, feast your eyes on the marvelous beast that is... HUSH!!!

Not taking kindly to being referred as derelicts and whores by the wiry Essex, the native Chicagoans boo the Brit loudly. Hush, meanwhile, stands as still as a statue, his shoulders being the only moving portion of his body as they heave with each monstrous breath of air that the monster sucks in and out through his mask.

(Essex) You know, I believe it would be terribly obnoxious of myself to harp on the events that took place at Ultimate Showdown, however, tact has never been one of my stronger suits, and as such, let the hedonic gloating begin!...

But where, oh where to start?

Essex tilted his head to the side, bring up his free arm to scratch his bearded chin with lamenting eyes that suggested nothing short of sarcasm.

(Essex) Let's see... Well, might as well get the unpleasantries out of the way first and formostly; we now have a decrepit, old fool as our Foundation Heavyweight Champion-...

The crowd cheers enthusiastically despite how ruthlessly Aleister Essex insulted the NAFW's FHC.

(JB) That shows just how much Diamond Del Carver means to these fans!

(Tom) Yeah, but mark my words, by the end of the night good ol' DDC won't be holding onto Keith Owens' belt any longer!!!

(Essex) As I was saying... A belligerent, crony as the Atlantic Championship-...

The crowd pops for the off-hand mentioning of Mike Stryker

(Essex) And two obnoxious, rambunctious, fools who spend more time with an inanimate object than is safe for your mental health-...

And the Chicago faithful do the same upon hearing the Wild Boys meriting mention from the lips of Aleister Essex.

(Essex) Applaud these half-baked heroes as you like, folks, for the most shocking and significant development from Ultimate Showdown did not involve any of the aforementioned braggarts.

In fact, it involved the actions of one and only one individual in the North American Federation of Wrestling; HUSH

(JB) God, I can barely hear myself think, folks! The fans here in Chicago have filled the arena with an uproar of jeers!!!

(Tom) What!? I can’t hear you JB!!! Maybe if you’d take the [cock] out of your mouth, you’d stop mumbling!!

(JB) Cute… REAL cute, you smarmy bastard, you know damn well you can hear me over the mic…

(Tom) Hah, never knew a gay joke I didn’t like!

(JB) Except for the one involving you and your trip to the Castro District in San Fransisco…

(Tom) Hey! We agreed never to talk about that!!!

Meanwhile, thankfully in many respects, back in the ring, Essex had finished walking about the ring, smiling wildly at the fans heckling response to his claim concerning Hush, and resumed his speech;

(Essex) That’s right folks, the single most important event that occurred at Ultimate Showdown was the DEATH of Matthew Kurresh’s career, THE END OF THE INTRUDER’S REIGN OF TERROR!!! At the hands of HUSH…

Said Essex, drawing out the “-SHHH” part of Hush’s name out as long as possible, just to spite the audience even more.

(Essex) Matthew Kurresh walked into Ultimate Showdown confident, believing in every fiber of his being, in every portion of his convoluted dreams, that he could actually topple Hush… That he could overcome the most silent and deadly force the North American Federation of Wrestling has ever seen…

That he could actually silence Hush.

And you want to know what happened, children?... Know what? I’ll tell you!

HE. WAS. ANNIHILATED!

(Tom) Oh, give me a break! He’s actually gloating as though Kurresh had a chance in that match, and everyone with half a brain KNOWS that Kurresh was beat before he stepped in the ring!

(JB) I don’t think so!

(Tom) …My point exactly…

(JB) HEY!!!

(Essex) In fact, I bet that dear, sweet Matthew is sitting comfortably right now, bandaged up like a pharaoh immediately after his death, his body still stained with the tainted grease of blood, staring through the slits of his mummy-like wrapping at a television screen, more likely than not hyperventilating like most gorilla-like members of his species do, and just sitting there, wondering…

Wondering whether or not he’ll ever walk again…

Wondering whether or not he’ll ever have the same confidence, the same swagger, that he used to…

Wondering whether or not he could actually be a REAL MAN ever again…

(Tom) This is just sick… Here we have this worthless shitstain Essex talking smack about Matthew Kurresh, who isn’t even here to defend himself!!!

(JB) So goes life, Tom… So goes life…

(Tom) …Stop trying to be existential, it’s just awful when you try it…

(JB) Really?... Alright then… Yeah… Your mother?... Totally banged her last night.

(Tom) *sigh*

(Essex) But you see, the question that is certainly NOT on that vengeful bastard’s mind is the one I intend to propose to you all?...

What’s next for Hush? What’s next for the man who put a former two-time Foundation Heavyweight Champion on the shelf?...

Well, I WOULD take a stab at suggesting that Hush ought to have a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship-…

The fans in the arena collectively boo, which catches Essex off-guard, and even causes Hush to budge and look out unimpressively at the audience… Or at least that’s what you’d believe, what with looking through his mask.

(Essex) However, I’m going to make this far more simple, for ANY man on the roster, for you see, I have officially signed the paperwork with General Manager Ray Buchanan concerning Hush’s debut on Annihilation, because two weeks from now, LIVE on TBS, the world will anticipate, for the first time on basic-cable, the monstrous phenomenon known as HUSH as he takes on ALL COMERS in what will assuredly be the most violent Open Challenge that the North American Federation of Wrestling has EVER seen!!!

And with that, Aleister Essex dropped the mic, and raised Hush’s arm into the air, or rather, his elbow, as the behemoth bellowed whilst “The Line Begins to Blur” roared in the background. Shortly after posing they clear the ringside area as the camera cuts to the announce booth.

(Tom) Woah! Did I just hear that right? Essex has put out an Open Challenge to face Hush two weeks from now!?!!?

(JB) Yeah, but the sad thing is, after what Hush did to Kurresh, you’ll be lucky to find a soul stupid enough to sign that Open Contract!

(Tom) Say, that means that you’d meet the requirements, eh?

(JB) Psshaw, you wish!

(Troy) "Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall, with a 45 minute time limit! Your referee for this bout is Richie Howards!"

"Shake Your Blood" by Probot cranks up on the loudspeakers. Jaime Alejandro steps out to the pops as he pulls out his hands and motions for the crowd to give him some more. He's dressed out in his black singlet, his sleeve over his right arm, and the reinforced knee brace over his right knee. He straps the gloves on and starts walking. He pulls the straps on his singlet up as he gets to the apron. Then he primes himself and jumps straight up on the apron and pulls the ropes back to pyro from the corners of the ring. He then goes under the top rope and stands up to get ready.

(Troy) "Introducing first, in the corner to my right...hailing from San Antonio, Texas he weighs in at 280 pounds. Here is THE SAINT…JAMIE ALEJANDRO!"

Cruci-fiction in Space by Marilyn Manson starts to play, and the fans cheers instantly turn to deafening jeers. Ron Barker emerges into the aisle, decked out in standard black tights and black boots. As per usual, the stoic Barker has no expression on his face as he calmly saunters up the aisle and climbs into the ring.

(Troy) "His opponent, in the corner to my left...he hails from Toronto, Canada and weighs in at 270 pounds, this is RON BARKER!"

Alejandro is pounding his fist into the palm of his other hand, waiting patiently for the bell to ring, staring a hole into Ron Barker, who yawns theatrically. The referee takes the center, and the bell rings. Barker and Alejandro both slowly walk to the middle of the ring, and stand toe to toe and eye to eye. The fans are cheering loudly as the two men stare at each other, neither man blinking, backing down, or saying a word.

(JB) Jamie Alejandro is a friend of Diamond Del Carver. Ron Barker hates Diamond Del Carver. Both of these men need a big win to keep them in contention for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. There is a lot riding on this match.

(Tom) I’m still trying to figure out why the hell Ron Barker would pick Marilyn Manson for his theme music. Marilyn Manson sucks!

(JB) Well, Dave Dymond warned us that Ron Barker has the worst taste in music out of any wrestler in history, and it’s obvious that he was right.

(Tom) He sure was! Ron Barker might be a great wrestler but man does his taste in music suck!

The two men lock up. For a brief moment it looks like Barker has the upper hand, but Alejandro quickly battles back, and with a hard effort, shoves Barker backwards to the mat. Barker hits the mat hard, and slowly gets to his feet as the fans cheer at the sight of the hated Barker getting overpowered. Barker shrugs, and then ties up with Alejandro again. The same thing happens. Barker is easily overpowered, and thrown backwards to the mat, landing on his back. Barker lays there for a moment, staring at the lights, and then gets up again. Barker backs into the ropes, comes off, and hits Jamie Alejandro with a shoulderblock, dead on. Alejandro doesn't budge, but Barker flies backwards, and hits the mat again, at full speed. Barker gets to his knees, cusses, and pounds his fist on the mat in frustration.

(JB) Looks like Ron Barker is finding out that Jamie Alejandro, at 280 pounds is not an easy man to take off his feet.

(Tom) Barker is no slouch either. He weighs 270, but he is a mat wrestler, not a big lug like Alejandro.

(JB) Jamie Alejandro is just as well versed in submissions as Ron Barker is, if not more.

Barker gets up, comes off the far rope, bounces off, hits the other rope, and then drives himself into Jamie Alejandro at full speed with a flying shouldertackle! Alejandro still doesn't budge, and Barker hits the mat again! The fans are on their feet, cheering. Barker gets up, and then Jamie Alejandro goes to work. Alejandro grabs Barker by the wrist, and throws him into the ropes. As Barker flies off, Alejandro absolutely levels him with a clothesline that looks like it almost decapitates Ron Barker! Barker's body jack-knifes in mid-air, and he hits the mat like a ton of bricks. Alejandro scoops Barker up, and then plants him with a standing powerslam, and goes for the cover...

One...

Two...

Before the three count, Barker roughly kicks out. As Barker starts to get to his feet, Alejandro grabs him, locks him up, and then tosses him through the air, in a release back suplex! The fans erupt as Barker flies through the air...and lands right on the top of his HEAD! The familiar sound of the fans chanting Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit! echoes through the arena. Barker puts both hands over his head and lies on the mat, kicking his feet in pain.

(JB) WOW! An early cover by Alejandro gets a TWO COUNT!

(Tom) I thought he broke Barker's neck there. WOW did you see the HEIGHT that Alejandro got on that...whatever it was? A kind of throw? And right onto his head! Alejandro takes this Strong Style stuff seriously.

Jamie Alejandro does not relent. The Saint roughly pulls Barker to his feet, and begins pummelling the dazed Barker, by repeatedly driving short knees into his midsection. Each knee lift is so powerful that it literally lifts Barker right off the mat with the impact! Finally, Alejandro grabs Barker by the wrist, and forcefully pulls him forward, right into a shortarm clothesline! Barker is driven to the mat again by the awesome power of Jamie Alejandro, who drops down for another cover...

One...

Two...

No!

Before the referee can make the three count, Barker gamely lifts his shoulder off the mat. The fans loudly cheer and applaud the continued attack by The Saint on Ron Barker. Barker shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, and tries to get away, but Jamie Alejandro will not let him escape. Alejandro locks Barker up from behind in a rear waistlock, and prepares to apply a German Suplex. Before he can lift Barker off the mat, Ron Barker begins to desperately fire elbows backwards, which connect with the head of Jamie Alejandro. Alejandro struggles to lift Barker, but Ron Barker continues his barrage of elbows, repeatedly stinging him, until Alejandro is forced to release the waistlock.

(JB) Barker finally mounting some offense here, after being on the receiving end of one hell of a beating so far from Jamie Alejandro!

(Tom) Ron Barker is a slow starter. He usually takes a lot of punishment in the first few minutes of his matches while he figures out his opponent’s methods…and then he uses his brains to finish the guy.

Barker whirls around, and as Alejandro has both hands over his ears as a result of the repeated elbow shots, Barker rears back, and boots Alejandro right in the face! Alejandro stumbles backwards, and Barker goes on the attack! Barker starts to swing wildly at The Saint, peppering him with repeated shots to the head and torso with both his left and right hands! Barker is swinging with every thing he's got, and is connecting with wild roundhouse punches and stiff jabs. Alejandro slowly backs into the corner, temporarily overwhelmed by the brutal onslaught of Ron Barker.

Jamie Alejandro has now been backed into the corner, and the fans are again on their feet, as Ron Barker gamely hammers away at Jamie Alejandro. Barker feeds off the negative energy of the crowd. Alejandro doubles over from the onslaught of Ron Barker, and Barker starts to slam repeated overhead forearms flat across the back of Alejandro, over and over again. Finally, Jamie Alejandro is beaten into a sitting position, slumped down in the corner. Barker quickly backs off, all the way back to the opposite corner, across the ring. Barker runs at Alejandro at full speed, and slams his knee into Alejandro's face as he collides with the turnbuckles! The crowd gasps at the impact of the running knee from Barker.

(JB) WOW! Barker just RAMMED his knee right to the HEAD of Jamie Alejandro! What a SHOT!

(Tom) Barker was real slow to get going in this match, but he seems to be on his way now! These people hate him, and he's feeding off it. It’s like being a hated man inspires him! You have to love this guy!

Barker backs up, and heads back to the opposite corner to repeat the same running knee, right to the head of the seated Alejandro, who is still slumped in the opposite corner. Barker charges, but just as he reaches the half way point, Alejandro stumbles to his feet, and meets Barker right in the middle of the ring, with a clothesline! Barker hits the mat with a huge thump. Alejandro stands over Barker, holding his head in pain. It is clear that he is still feeling the after effects of the knee to the head, and that his clothesline was done out of pure guts and desperation. Barker lies on the mat clutching his neck in pain. Alejandro lays across the chest of Barker for a COVER!

One!

NO!

Barker angrily kicks out of the cover, and unsteadily rises to his feet. Before Alejandro can get up, Barker backs into the ropes, comes off, and throws himself into the air, and lands a legdrop across the chest of Jamie Alejandro. Barker lays over Alejandro for a cover...

One!

Two!

NO!

Alejandro shoves Barker off of him. Barker gets to his feet again, measures Alejandro off, and then drops a knee into Alejandro's chest! Barker then runs, comes off the far rope, and leaps into the air, and lands a running elbow smash across the chest of Alejandro, and goes for a cover!

One!

Two!

Before the referee can count three, Jamie Alejandro literally presses Barker off of him, and throws him to the side, not only kicking out of the pin attempt, but tossing Barker to the side like a bag of garbage! The fans gasp loudly at the amazing show of strength from The Saint. Jamie Alejandro slowly sits up. Alejandro stumbles to his feet, and looks at Barker wearily. Alejandro hoists Barker into the air, and then spins him around and crunches him with a TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Barker goes into small back spasms with the impact, and Alejandro immediately covers him.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Barker lifts the shoulder at the last minute, and shakes his head. Ron Barker gets up and reels backwards into the ropes. Alejandro charges toward Ron Barker, but Barker catches Alejandro across the chest, standing to one side with one arm across his chest, and under The Saint's arms. Barker lifts Jamie Alejandro up and spikes him forward, driving him back first to the mat, knocking the wind out of him and also causing him to absorb some of the impact on the back of his head! As he slams The Saint down, Barker spins quickly to add force to the impact!

Ron Barker’s “Perfection!” As he nails Alejandro with his patented finishing move, he makes the cover and hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The fans erupt in boos as the hideous sound of Marilyn Manson starts to play, as the bell rings, Barker gets to his feet, and the referee hauls Ron Barker’s arm high into the air…

(Troy) HERE IS YOUR WINNER…RON BARKER!!!

(JB) What a big win for Barker! He caught Jamie Alejandro charging in, nailed him with that spinning slam of his, and that was all she wrote!

(Tom) See? I told you! What did I tell you? Ron Barker studies his opponents, and as soon as he has them figured out, he exploits their weakness, and puts them away! This man is the most intelligent wrestler on our roster right now!

While Tom continues to jerk off Ron Barker, we cut backstage for some more happenings...

We fade in to Keith Owens and Trevor Cunning in the same locker room. Cunning is nursing his wounds from his beatdown earlier in the night while Keith paces around in his ring gear impatiently.

(Keith) What the hell was that? How did you let Carver get the upper hand on you? The plan was simple... You take him down early, and I walk out of here tonight with the Foundation Heavyweight Championship.

Cunning looks up with a bit of a snarl.

(Trevor) Well maybe if I had some help out there...

(Keith) Hey, I had to keep my hands clean of the situation to keep my match tonight in tact.

(Trevor) So now what are you going to do?

Keith pauses in his tracks for a moment before smirking.

(Keith) The same thing I always do... Whatever it takes.

It's time to make a phone call and place a personal favor.

Keith pulls his cell phone out of his gym bag and begins dialing a number as the shot fades out.

(JB) Who is Keith calling?

(Tom) I have one idea...

(JB) Who?

(Tom) Your mom!

(JB) Again, fantastic commentary from you Bear. I personally think Keith is up to no good.

(Tom) Brilliant deduction Sherlock. You heard the man. He's going to do whatever it takes to become the Foundation Heavyweight Champion again tonight.

(JB) We'll see if Keith can pull it off later in our main event. But first, a commercial break!

“Miseria Cantare” by AFI slowly fades onto the arena’s sound system. The low music continues to play as various pictures, and small clips of Johnson’s career flashes over the Tron. When the first bit of vocals are heard, Charles walks out on the ramp looking down at the ring. Making his way down to the ring he walks up the ring steps, and into the ring. Walking to the other side of the ring he grabs a mic and then turns towards the crowd

(Charles) Stop the music right now.

Johnson waits for the music to stop, and the crowd to quiet down before resuming his speech.

(Charles) I hate to be the bearer of bad news folks, but Mr. McCarthy, or formally known as The Farmer, will not be competing against me tonight as he had an unfortunate accident involving a steel chair, and the backstage area brick wall. Unfortunately nobody know who did this, and there for I have ask that the booking committee rule this match as a no contest or don’t count it at all.

(JB) He shows good sportsmanship, but he is lying through his dabern teeth.

(Tom) How do you know he didn’t personally attack The Farmer. Maybe somebody else did.

Johnson grins towards the crowd as he stands in the middle of the ring.

(Charles) I really don’t care what happened to him, but I’m glad I don’t have to waste my time on such a weak challenger. A man bent on saving his farm, but doesn’t really try it seems. If I wanted an easy win I could have smacked X-Cold around until he agreed to a match with me. I wanted a real challenge, and I felt deprived of one when I heard who I was facing…

Johnson shakes his head as he paces around the ring. He then stops an looks towards the entrance ramp.

(Charles) You see I felt that Jaime didn’t give me a challenge at Ultimate Showdown. As you can see I did what I said I would do and go in and beat him with an easy one two three. Now I’m still wanting that thrill of a true competitor. So, with the farmer, and his inability to properly give me said thrill. I call out to anybody back there that thinks they can keep up with me come on down here as I am waiting for you.

Johnson turns towards the entrance again and waits for his next challenge.

(JB) Johnson unpleased with his competition?

(Tom) No, he wants to prove to everybody he is the top of the food chain, but he thinks he can take out the lower part. You have to prove yourself before you get to the top.

Johnson shakes his head as he looks towards the annouce team,a nd then back to the crowd.

(Charles) Well, I don’t have time to stand here all night. So, If anybody wants to have a nice chat with me can talk to me later tonight, or when you get the balls to talk to me.

Johnson’s theme song plays, as he makes his way out of the ring area.

(JB) So... Big Gulps huh?

(Tom) Welp... See ya later.

And by see ya later he means we're cutting backstage.

As the moments tick down before the showdown between Dwayne Bishop and the returning Reaper, the camera is focused in on the dressing room of one Leonard Aarons. The door swings open and Aarons is in his wrestling attire, his hands taped and ready for war as he throws his hood over his head. The fans erupt as they see him march down towards the gorilla position, where from that point on, it’s all automatic for Aarons. Nothing he hasn’t done before. However, he stops in his tracks as he gets a few feet away from the locker room as he sees someone clapping rather slowly.

The look on his face is one of mild shock and agitation all rolled into one.

(Aarons) What in the hell are you doing here?

The camera pans to the right to see a face that hasn’t been seen around here in about ten months give or take a few days. She is clad in a throwback Bulls jersey, Ben Wallace’s nevertheless and a pair of tight jeans. Her hair is pitch black and she looks as sizzling as she has ever been. For those of you who don’t know, she is Vanessa Chamberlain. L’s former friend slash manager although you could make the case that folks as great as he is, don’t need “managers” persay.

(Chamberlain) What? No hug? No kiss?

(Aarons) Forgive me if I’m a little behind on the makeup etiquette. As I recall correctly, it was you who turned your back on me…not the other way around, so don’t come back here thinking you’re going to just get my sympathy or whatever.

(Chamberlain) Okay, I get that you’re a little salty about that. I’m sorry I had to do that, but at the time I felt like it was for your own good.

(Aarons) Excuse me? Look…I don’t have time to get into this with you right now. I’ve got a prior engagement that’s a bit more…pressing than dealing with you at this time.

He attempts to walk by her, only she grabs him by his right arm, stopping him momentarily.

(Chamberlain) I’m sorry, alright. I really am. I…I just…

Just as he starts to get a word out, she lets go of him and steps aside…just as a body comes crashing into the picture knocking Aarons on his face. The cameraman gets taken out of the equation in the process, so the view now is from the floor as a pair of boots can be seen stomping away at the prone body of Aarons. As the camerman regains himself and picks the camera up to a more vertical base, we see that Dwayne Bishop has decided to get things started earlier than expected. He picks Aarons up by the back of his head, nailing him repeatedly with closed fists staggering him back again and again. He tries to throw one more only to have Aarons block it, firing back with a couple of his own. He’s starting to rally back when out of nowhere, a steel chair gets thrown right at his back stopping him in his tracks.

This gives Bishop the time he needs to step back a few paces and deliver a vicious running boot to the face of Aarons that turns him inside out. Bishop then picks up a nearly unconscious Aarons, putting him between his legs as he lifts him up high and runs straight for the wall as he drives Aarons back first into the unforgiving not to mention not moving wall. He hits a 180 spin before driving him straight through the table with a modified version of The Judgment. Bishop gets to his feet snarling, just standing over the fallen Aarons who is barely able to move as Vanessa reenters the picture with of all things, a pot of coffee that was on the table prior to Bishop breaking it with The Reaper’s body. The two exchange a glare of sorts, before Bishop takes his leave laughing it up as Vanessa steps through the wreckage crouching down right above Leonard’s head.

(Chamberlain) My poor, poor misguided boy. You see, before I was interrupted I meant to apologize to you in advance for what’s about to happen to you. I mean, the fact of the matter is, what happened in January was only the beginning. I was hoping you’d have enough common sense to take me leaving as the sign that you too, should’ve got gone and stayed gone. But now…well…

She pauses, making a tsk tsk sound with her teeth as she dumps out the contents of the coffee on Leonard’s face before blasting him square in the skull with the empty pot.

(Chamberlain) It’s time for you to wake up and smell the coffee. This time, you’re gonna feel MY WRATH…bitch.

She storms off, as help comes for Aarons who’s stirring yet very much incoherent as we go back to ringside.

“Til I Collapse” by Eminem blares over the loudspeakers as the house lights go dim and The NAFWTron begins to show views of the New York City Skyline. The crowd pops at the sudden happening as the songs bass lines and lyrics kick in, and Mike Stryker comes out after a few seconds, dressed in street clothes. He gets to the top of the ramp and raises his Atlantic title over his head as flashbulbs make it rain in the arena.

(JB) He wasn’t expected to be here tonight, but I guess we’re gonna hear from the Atlantic Champ!

(Tom) My sources say that Stryker had something huge to get off his chest tonight regarding his title and who he wants to face next.

(JB) Well, even if I doubt you have actual “sources”, Stryker has started to redefine “fighting champion” as he actually called out Michael Fitzpatrick McCarthy for Ultimate Showdown, then beat the farmer in an absolute slugfest.

(Tom) I still say he was nuts for what he did, but it worked. If he’s wised up, he’ll let the next challenge come to him.

Stryker makes his way down the ramp, rolling into the ring and heading for the opposite buckle, where he raises his title to another throng of cheering. He marches across the ring and repeats the process on the other side, soaking it up. He walks back towards the timekeeper and catches the mic thrown into the ring. He slings his belt over his shoulder and takes center ring.

(Stryker) A couple weeks ago I walked out here and I called out Michael Fitzpatrick McCarthy for a fight. And he brought me a fight that’s still got me sore. I expected nothing less from him. Michael, you got my respect. But I didn’t come out here to talk about Ultimate Showdown. This has nothing to with the past. I’m out here because I feel the need to help. someone tonight.

(JB) That’s rare.

(Tom) He’s going soft. I used to like Stryker. What a pussmule.

(JB) Hope he didn’t hear that, for your sake.

(Stryker) For the last few weeks, I’ve sat back and watched as a legend in this business has not been up to par. I’ve watched a man who I have nothing but respect for get run over, not because he’s overmatched or past his prime, but because he’s missing that fire, that hunger. He’s been a step slow because he’s lost. I intend to help him find himself. The man I speak of is you…

Matthew Kurresh.

A collective OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Comes from the crowd as Stryker stands, patiently waiting for the reaction to settle. Tom and JB don’t say a word.

(Stryker) Now, before anyone goes to take this all wrong, I want to make something very clear. This is not an attempt to make The Intruder look bad, or show him up. I’m not calling your punk card Matthew. Of every single athlete that we have in today’s NAFW, Matthew, you’re the one guy who doesn’t just get respect, he COMMANDS respect. Everyone in that locker room knows who you are, what you’ve done, and what you’re capable of, and that includes me.

However, I know that watching all that’s happened in the past couple weeks between you and Hush, it’s shown me something. The Intruder I know wouldn’t have lost at Ultimate Showdown. The Intruder I know wouldn’t have been jumped from behind, and even if he was, he would have marched to that ring and taught whatever punk jumped him a lesson. The Intruder I know would have made sure that Hush never saw the light of day again.

That’s not the Matthew Kurresh I saw last week at Ultimate Showdown.

So Matthew, If you’re wondering what I can do to help, well, I feel like you and I can help each other. See, you need to ignite that fire under your ass, and me? I need another challenge.

The crowd begins to buzz a bit as Stryker continues.

(Stryker) See, I took care of my business at Ultimate Showdown, and I erased any and all doubt about whether or not I’m a worthy Atlantic Champion. That was step one of my plan. Step two is a little more than that. I need to know for myself if I can REALLY hang with the best of the best in the NAFW. I’ve always said I could, and I believe that I can, but I’ve never gotten that one chance. All I want is one shot at the baddest man in the yard. I look at it like prison. If you go to prison, you find the biggest guy there, and you fight him, to show that you can hang and you’re not to be messed with. Well, Matthew, from where I stand, you’re the biggest, baddest dog in the yard. I need to know if I really do have what it takes to be one of the elite in this business. I need to know if I really am Foundation Championship material or not. I need to know if I’m wasting my time or if I really am as good as I think I am.

So Matthew, I know your beat up, I know you’re not 100%, and I know I’m not either. I want us both at our best, I want no excuses. So forget tonight. If you’re game, next week, on Annihilation, I want to see Mike Stryker facing Matthew Kurresh, one on one, in this ring…

Stryker holds up his title belt…

…and I’ll put this on the line.

The crowd goes ballistic as Stryker drops the mic and keeps the belt held high, intensity streaming from his gaze.

(JB) WOW!!! STRYKER WANTS MATTHEW KURRESH!!!

(Tom) Now I know he’s insane. He’s calling out The Intruder??

(JB) All I know is, if this happens, I can’t wait for next week!!

Cut to commercial.

We fade back in from commercial to find ourselves in a backstage office. More specifically, this is the desk of Mr. Ray Buchanan, and if a camera crew is being summoned here, then something important must be up. The crowd comes to a quiet hush as we all listen in.

(Buchanan) Ladies and gentlemen, I just recieved a phone call from the owner of the NAFW, Mr. Hector Gonzales. He informed me that he was making a change to tonight's card. Specifically, to our main event. Due to a special request that Mr. Gonzales has granted, tonight's main event pitting Keith Owens against Diamond Del Carver for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship in a rematch from Ultimate Showdown, will now have an extra stipulation... This match will be officiated by a special guest referee...

Buchanan pauses before revealing just who will call tonight's huge rematch for the world title.

(Buchanan) The special guest referee will be none other than... Ron Barker.

That is all. Good luck to both men in tonight's main event.

The crowd boos this announcement as the shot of the Commish fades away and we cut to the ringside announce table.

(JB) This is an outrage? Keith called in a favor with Hector Gonzales to make Ron Barker the guest referee for tonight's match?

(Tom) It's absolutely brilliant. Ron Barker will undoubtedly call this match right down the line. Who better than the most intelligent wrestler in the NAFW today should officiate this important match? No one!

(JB) This is a dirty tactic by Keith putting Del Carver's arch enemy in the ring to call this match. I can't imagine what Diamond Del Carver will have to go through tonight with Barker wearing the stripes.

(Tom) I don't think you're giving Barker a fair shake. He's a good and honest man. He'll make the right call, and don't color me surprised if Keith Owens walks out with the title tonight.

(JB) Color you surprised?

(Tom) I guess someone never got past the 8 pack of crayons when they were a child.

The halls of NAFW have never looked so pretty, to one particular superstar; Sebastian Hawke. He comes strutting down a path that leads through the arena, possibly to ringside, with a huge grin across his face.

His fingers are tucked into his pockets with his palms exposed, his shirt is hanging over the belt of his pants, the jersey reading “There’s No Day Like Today…” on the front. As the camera swings around behind him, we notice the rest of the shirt. “…To Whip That Ass!”

But that’s not all we notice. Sebastian’s stopped, for good reason too. Amie Carmichael is there in front of him, microphone in hand, which brandishes the NAFW logo. She smiles at him, offering her hand.

(Sebastian) Amie, to what do I owe the pleasure?

(Amie) Well, Sebastian, I came to ask you a few questions. First of all, nobody has heard from you since last week at the Ultimate Showdown and you have a pretty big match-up tonight. What’s up?

He shakes his head, smiling.

(Sebastian) Well, you see, I needed some time to re-evaluate my approach to the NAFW. You see, Ultimate Showdown was so much jaw-jacking and ‘I’m going to beat you’, this, that and the third about who’s gonna get who that I needed a little break from it.

(Amie) Completely understandable, but Sean Thomas and Mike Lane wasted no time with name-dropping and hyping up their new partnership.

Sebastian smiles and shrugs dismissively, his fingertips caressing the back of his neck as he thinks over that for a minute.

(Sebastian) You know, Ultimate Showdown adjusted my perspective on the NAFW. A lot of people around here are riding around like they’re the King of Kings when they’re just over glorified knights waiting to get kicked off their proverbial horses. If everyone out there wants to apeshit over this new found partnership between Lane and Thomas, that’s sure as hell great for the show and great in my eyes.

(Amie) So you’re fine with them? Surely there’s going to be animosity from Mike Lane out there tonight when you face him again.

He shakes his head, smirking.

(Sebastian) Why should there be? We’re Sports Entertainers. We go out there night after night and bust our asses for those people. Win or lose I’ll still have respect for Mike Lane. I just want people to understand one thing, Amie…

(Amie) What is that, Sebastian?

He steps up to the comparably smaller interviewer. His stature dwarfs her in comparison.

(Sebastian) When I say there’s no day like today, I mean it…

He points to the words on his chest, obviously trying to plug his new T-Shirt, as he smirks at Amie and pats her on the shoulder, before walking past her and off camera, for his match.

Cut.

As we cut to ringside, we see that Spaz and Mike Lane have already made their respective entrances and are standing ready to go in their corner.

(Tom) I don't get it. Why are those two teaming up again?

(JB) A common hatred of Ryan Cardinal seems to be the answer to that one. But now Ryan Cardinal, or the Evil Sean Thomas as we might remember him best is gone from the Foundation for good along with that rat JaZon King, thanks to the tagging efforts of Spaz and Mike Lane at Ultimate Showdown.

(Tom) At least Ryan Cardinal made Sean Thomas cool. What does Spaz have to offer? Candy? Boo that.

"I'm The One" begins blasting out the speakers of the NAFW-Tron, as Sebastian Hawke walks out onto the stage, underneath the NAFW-Tron itself. He adjusts his wrist tape before looking out to the crowd. He slowly walks down the ramp to the ring, staring at the ring as he does. He passes by a few fans, who are waving their hands at him trying to get a high-five, but he ignores them, as he walks down to the ring. He comes up to the apron, walking over to the stairs and escalating them. He walks along the apron, facing the crowd as he stares out at them, before turning around to get into the ring.

"Fully Alive" by Flyleaf hits the PA as the lights dim and then flicker out. Strobe lights flicker on as smoke fills the entryway and the ramp. All the sudden, a figure comes out from the back and stands in the smoke, right fist pumped up in the air. The strobe lights make the figure seem like it is blinking as the figure cuts through the smoke. The crowd cheers as it is NAFW's very own psycho, Crazy Boy. CB walks down the ramp, adknowledging the crowd as he slides under the bottom ropes. The lights flicker back on as CB pumps his fist in the air, runs around off the ropes and then turns.

He runs smack dab into his partner Sebastian Hawke, who doesn't necessarily look happy to see him. After all, Hawke's original partner was someone else until there was a last second change, and Crazy Boy was gracious enough to fill the void and help out Mr. Buchanan.

(Tom) I already sense strong unity here between Hawke and Crazy Boy.

(JB) Sarcasm noted. Maybe they will get along. After all, Crazy Boy used to have a partner named Hawk.

(Tom) And that really worked out well for him. Multiple tag team championships together, right? Oh and Hawk was so helpful in his latest stint with the Foundation.

(JB) Alright alright. Let's see if Sebastian Hawke can pick up any momentum in this match seeing how he's got an upset victory over Mike Lane in the past.

(Tom) Maybe Crazy Boy can find some REAL tag success here since Snake is such a turd.

SUMMARY: It's a close match with lots of back and forth action. Mike Lane and Spaz work well together as a team. Hawke tries to carry the load for his team, although its not necessary. Crazy Boy gets in the mix with a series of blind tags. There are some near falls on Hawke towards the end of the match, but Crazy Boy always seems to find a way to dive in for the save. Then, just as you think Hawke and Crazy Boy are building a small amount of team unity to survive this match, Snake, with Wilson in tow, makes his way down the ramp. Crazy Boy waiting for a hot tag from Hawke, crawling closer and closer to the corner. Spaz on the other hand is trying to make the hot tag to Mike Lane in their corner. Just as Hawke gets in range to dive for the tag in, Snake pulls Crazy Boy from the apron and begins to yell at them. The two get in a shouting match that escalates into some pushing. Snake doesn't seem happy that Crazy Boy was so willing to tag with someone else. Crazy Boy knocks Wilson from Snake's arms and begins shouting at him, pointing to the ball on the ground. While all this is going on, Hawke is royally screwed, because Spaz managed to make the tag to Mike Lane, who stalks Hawke as Hawke pulls himself up using the ropes. Hawke leans out the middle rope and motions for Crazy Boy to get back on the apron, but Crazy Boy is too involved in his argument with his fellow Wild Boy. Then as Sebastian turns around to go back to the match, he's met with a Shadow Kick to the chest. This sends him crashing back to the ground, and Lane hooks the leg back hard for the cover. 1... 2... 3! Lane and Spaz win thanks to Snake taking Crazy Boy away from the match which distracted Sebastian.

(JB) What is Snake's problem? Why can't he let Crazy Boy find the success he wants?

(Tom) Because its all about Wilson. Wilson Wilson Wilson.

The referee raises Spaz and Lane's arms in the air and the two shake hands, then head up the ramp to the back. Hawke sits up in the middle of the ring and stares at Snake and Crazy Boy, who are still arguing.

(JB) Uh oh. Sebastian does not look happy.

Hawke rolls out of the ring, and as he passes the bickering couple, he kicks Wilson into the guard rail. Snake immediately stops arguing with Crazy Boy and turns his attention to Sebastian. Hawke is surprised Snake even noticed, and he turns around to stare down the masked luchadore. The two begin exchanging their own words as they stand chest to chest. Eventually Sebastian has enough and pushes Snake. Snake shoves back but barely budges the young superstar. Hawke retaliates by throwing Snake into the guardrail, where he collapses somewhere near where Wilson was kicked. Crazy Boy simply backs off from the situation, obviously feeling slightly bad that he ended up costing his team the match by not being there.

(Tom) Why isn't Crazy Boy fighting for his friend that just got manhandled?

(JB) Maybe Crazy Boy understands that Sebastian is frustrated and that's mostly Snake's fault.

(Tom) Yeah, and maybe Crazy Boy will get a perfect score on the SATs.

As we come back from commercial, we're taken backstage where Keith Owens is standing talking to someone.

(Keith) So we've got our game plan for tonight straight then?

The camera pans out, and Keith is talking to Ron Barker who has already donned his pinstripes for the main event.

(Barker) Yeah, I've got it. Carver won't be getting away tonight.

As the two are talking, Mike Lane and Spaz walk in from behind, having just come back from their match. The stop behind Barker and Owens, a bit suspicious about what the two have in store for Diamond Del Carver later tonight. After a few moments, Keith and Ron turn around, perhaps having felt another presence in the hallway.

(Keith) Well well well... Look who we have here.

Keith stares down Mike Lane.

(Keith) Too bad you didn't make it to the finals of Ultimate Showdown, Mr. Hollywood. I would have loved to have wiped the floor with you one more time.

(Lane) Yeah, because your track record against me is so clean. Let's not forget me having to hand your FORMER title back on a technicality, and oh yeah, you running away at Revolution. And all for what? You still lost to Diamond Del Carver.

Keith scowls and suddenly the attention shifts to Ron Barker and Spaz, who are also staring each other down, which is a bit surprising.

(Barker) Some things never change, do they?

Spaz nods his head before replying.

(Spaz) I guess not. It's been a while Ron. A long while.

(Ron) Well I guess you haven't spent enough time at our old stomping grounds.

(Spaz) Yeah, I was kind of preoccupied with other things. But you obviously haven't changed.

(Ron) Neither have you, kiss ass.

(Spaz) That's real big talk coming from you, jerk.

Now Keith and Mike are a bit confused.

(Keith) So you two know each other?

(Ron) You could say that.

(Keith) Well as interesting as that must be, why don't the two of you get the hell out of my hallway so I can finish my conversation here with Referee Barker?

Lane and Spaz look at each other and roll their eyes. The two push past the evil duo, but then Spaz turns back for one last word.

(Spaz) Hey Barker... Keep it clean out there tonight, or else. You're not going to disgrace this Foundation's title with your shady ways.

And with that the team of Spaz and Lane walk off, leaving Keith and Ron uneasy about this unexpected encounter and warning.

(Tom) What the heck? Where did this heat between Spaz and Barker come from?

(JB) Well, they both are from Canada. It sounds like they might have come up and trained together.

(Tom) And who does Spaz think he is, telling Barker how to officiate tonight's match?

(JB) Spaz has a great deal of respect for the Foundation. He's not going to watch Barker ruin the top title by simply handing it back to Keith.

(Tom) I bet Spaz just wants that title back. Or Lane. They're both probably super greedy deep down.

(JB) I doubt it, but Barker and Owens will have to watch their actions later tonight closely, because I'm sure Spaz and Lane will be keeping an eye out.

(Tom) It’s time for one of the most anticipated matches of the evening, folks! The return of Heatwave!

(JB) A former United States Champion, he and Leonard Aarons have been two former United States Champions making quite a buzz as of late; so much so that the majority of MY kind of people think they don’t deserve the hype.

(Tom) Your kind of people?... I’m afraid to ask…

(JB) Hey! Don’t doubt my people! They deserve the chance to express themselves!!

(Tom) Whatever, dude, anyway, it’s time for Heatwave to prove whether or not he can live up to the hype!

GANSTA' GRILLZ!

A red spotlight appears at the top of the ramp and the lights dim slightly. "Air Force Ones" by Young Jeezy is pushed through the speakers. Through the curtains, the Madman from Miami known as Heatwave steps out in a pair of Nike jogging pants and gloved fists.

(Troy) The following contest is a singles competition and it is ONE FALL! Introducing first, hailing from Miami, Florida, and weighing in at 264lbs., he is HEATWAVE!!

A hero’s welcome awaits Heatwave as he makes his way towards the ring with the red spotlight following him. Making his way inside of the ring, the lights are brought back up, as Heatwave hops onto the nearby turnbuckle, throwing his gloved fists into the air, getting a staunch reaction from the Chi-town crowd in response. He hops down heading towards the opposite turnbuckle as a wave of flash bulbs come over him. He hops down, taking a post on the turnbuckle waiting for his rival to make his way down the ring.

(JB) Well, be it as it may that Heatwave’s got the crowd’s response in his favor, even an army of Heatwave’s sheep couldn’t stop Fox Strife!

As if on cue, the arena lights dim, replaced by green and yellow flashing lights, as pyro surrounding the stage goes off like a bang. "Break Stuff" roars through the PA system, answered by a succinct number of boos, as Fox Strife walks out from the back, with his valet Nikki Cooley by his side.

(Troy) And his opponent, hailing from Chicopee, Massachusetts, and weighing in at 255lbs. he is the Man on a Mission; FOX STRIFE!!

The duo stop at the top of the aisle and Fox tosses both of his fists in the air, then pulls them back down as more pyro goes off. Fox and Nikki then walk down to the ring, looking for extended hands to slap en route to the ring; only to find none waiting.

(Tom) It seems as if Chicago wants nothing to do with Fox Strife!

(JB) Hey, Fox Strife is a superstar, Tom, and if you’re going to place this on the fact that he kept quiet throughout the week, well, I’ve got news for you bud; ol’ Fox is going to let his fists do the REAL talking.

(Tom) You sound cornier than a variety hour show.

(JB) With twice the sex appeal!

(Tom) …*sigh*

Begrudgingly, they get into the ring as Fox jumps on one of the turnbuckles and puts both fist in the air shouting into the crowd, whilst Nikki poses for the cameras. As Nikki goes to ringside, Fox jumps down and tests the ropes, getting warmed up for Heatwave as the Madman from Miami eyes him viciously from across the ring.

(Tom) This is going to be vicious, folks! We’ve got Fox Strife who’s become increasingly unpopular as of late going against the redeemer Heatwave who has everything to gain from this match and absolutely nothing to lose!

(JB) Now who’s the walking cliché machine?

(Tom) Your mom, after I’m through with her!

(JB) Hey! That’s MY line!!!

Meanwhile, back in the ring, the two 250+ lbs.-ers had just locked up in the middle of the ring, with Fox Strife eventually catching Heatwave off balance, wrenching his arm around and to the side. Fox continued to add pressure, twisting the arm over again, but Heatwave, wincing in pain from the arm wrench, saw his opening as he delivered a thundering blow to Fox Strife’s gut. As Strife heaved in pain, Heatwave punched him in the gut again and again, eventually freeing himself from Fox’s grip as Nikki Cooley held her breath at ringside. Heatwave then took the doubled-over Fox Strife and put him in powerbomb position, but just as Heatwave was about to lift him up, Fox dropped to his knees and, sensing the amount of danger he was in, scurried right under Heatwave’s legs and out of the ring, taking a minute to regroup, as Nikki Cooley came running to his side, checking to see if her man was alright.

(Tom) A close call for Fox Strife there, JB-…

(JB) Hardly, everybody knows that you can’t stop Fox Strife!

(Tom) Er, wha-…?

(JB) YOU CAN’T STOP FOX STRIFE!!!

(Tom) I’m pretty sure-…

(JB) YOU CAN’T STOP FOX STRIFE!!!

(Tom) …I hate you.

Heatwave, knowing full well that Fox fled the scene to regroup, immediately shrugged off the referees orders to stay inside the ring, and broke the ref’s count at four by stepping through the ropes and out to ringside. Nikki Cooley noticed what Fox Strife couldn’t, that Heatwave was right behind him, and like any good female valet would, Nikki got between Heatwave and her man, flinging herself at Heatwave’s mercy.

(JB) I can’t believe her!

(Tom) I know! That’s a cheap way to interfere in a match!

(JB) No, not that; that she flung herself at Heatwave when even I’m clearly much more better looking than he’ll ever be!

(Tom) …You are too much sometimes.

(JB) You mean, TOO SEXAY!!!

(Tom) No, just… No.

However, as Heatwave’s eyes were focused on Nikki Cooley as she begged on her knees to forsake Fox, he didn’t have nearly enough time to react as Fox Strife, out of nowhere, flung himself into Heatwave, using the steel ringsteps as a launching pad, and executing a beautiful flying shoulder block; knocking Heatwave flat on his back.

(Tom) That was vulgar!

(JB) No it wasn’t, and trust me folks, I KNOW vulgar… I slept with Tommy’s mom last night…

(Tom) Ugh… Alright then, o’ great one, what the hell is that then?

(JB) Easy, she created an opening for her man, and he took advantage of it; like introducing Bacardi to eighteen year olds at Prom-…

(Tom) WHAT!?

(JB) Oh nothing, just a little story Trevor Cunning told me.

Back in the ring, Fox had just rolled Heatwave’s massive frame back onto the mat, and just as Heatwave showed signs of shaking off the cobwebs from Fox’s last assault, Fox Strife began to lay into him, first kicking and stomping Heatwave around the sternum, then, taking three good steps backwards, allowed himself to slowly approach Heatwave’s downed corpse again, this time landing a vicious fist drop right on the Miami native’s forehead. The Chi-town crowd held it’s breath as Fox hooked the leg;

ONE!

TWO!

TH-…NO!

(Tom) And Heatwave kicks out at the Two-and-a-half-mark!

(JB) Goes to show that there’s STILL a distinct advantage to staying silent throughout the week! Fox here’s showing not only you and I, but the folks at home and the audience just how powerful you can become by letting your fists do the talking!

(Tom) Nice teleprompter read, dork.

(JB) At least I’m not recycling the same clichés from 3 years ago, now am I?

(Tom) ...

(JB) You hate it ‘cause it’s true!

Frustrated with not getting the quick pin, Fox Strife immediately took Heatwave by the hair and slammed him face-first into the mat. As Heatwave covered his face in pain, a tear or two squeezing out from between his eyelids, Fox Strife looked to the side admiringly as Nikki Cooley cheered him on enthusiastically, much to the chagrin of the crowd. However, as Fox picked Heatwave up by the hair, he was caught off guard as Heatwave leveled him with a desperate right hand. As Fox Strife staggered backwards, heatwave found his footing and let him have it with another jaw-crushing right.

(JB) Hey, that’s no fair! No closed-fist punches!!!

(Tom) Says the guy who was justifying cheating only 5 minutes ago…

(JB) Those kinds of actions are fair, but COME ON Tom! When you’re someone as big and strong as Heatwave is, you don’t need to cheat to win!

(Tom) Regardless of how jaded your perception is, JB, the fact is that Heatwave is getting right back in this match!

So much so that by the time we came back to ringside, Heatwave had just floored Fox Strife with his third-straight short-arm clothesline, sending the Man on a Mission to the mat, hard. Nikki Cooley clutched the ring apron anxiously as Heatwave began shouting to the crowd, getting the fans in attendance all riled up. The energy supplied by the fans exploded when Heatwave picked up the staggering Fox Strife and, with the clout of a bull in a china shop, leveled him with a spine-shattering spinebuster. Heatwave stood up almost immediately, consumed by the adrenaline rush, and began to pump up the crowd some more with his favourite method of choice, calling for his finisher.

(Tom) Heatwave is looking to land the Inferno!

(JB) …Wow, “The Inferno”!?... You’ve gotta be kidding me…

(Tom) What!? It’s a truly vicious T-Bone Suplex!

(JB) Yet he named it “The Inferno”!?!??

(Tom) …

(JB) You hate it when I’m right.

(Tom) Nonetheless; Nikki Cooley is at it again folks!

Indeed she was, for Fox Strife’s valet had hopped onto the ring apron knowing damn well that her husband was about to have his ass Inferno-ed if she didn’t do anything to stop it. This caught the attention of both the referee and Heatwave, who both turned in her direction, completely oblivious to the fact that Fox Strife was coming to. By the time that the referee had managed to shoo Nikki Cooley off of the ring apron, Fox was already on his feet, licking his lips in anticipation for Heatwave to turn around.

(Tom) Don’t turn around Heatwave!!!

But it was too late, Heatwave had just turned around and had begun to make his way back to where he thought Fox Strife lay, only for Fox Strife to unleash his furiously strong superkick, the Lights Out…

…And miss.

(JB) HOW THE HELL DID HE HAVE ENOUGH SENSE TO DUCK!?!?

Heatwave somehow had enough common sense to expect Fox Strife’s Lights Out to duck under Strife’s extended boot, and as a bewildered Strife looked to find Heatwave’s body to pin, he turned around only to be met by heatwave’s massive arms as they hooked around Strife’s waist and under his right arm.

(Tom) THE INFERNO!!!

(JB) Aw-... I shoulda’ gone to the snack bar!

As Fox Strife came crushing down back to earth, Heatwave merely rested his torso on Strife’s downed corpse, completely oblivious to the screams and shouts of Nikki Cooley at ringside, and the pin, like always, was academic;

”ONE!”

”TWO!”

”THREE!”

The Chicagoan crowd roared as “Air Force Ones” roared through the PA system for the second time in the night, as Heatwave’s arm was raised in the air, his first victory in his first match back in the NAFW.

(Tom) Quite the return back to action, wouldn’t you say?

(JB) What are you talking about? I wasn’t even paying attention to this match!

(Tom) Sure you were, in fact, you were quite enthralled…

(JB) All lies, I assure you folks, for the fact is that I was getting… a tan, by the lights, the last few minutes or so, and wasn’t paying to attention to that godawful match!

(Tom) Whatever opens up your closet, bud.

(JB) Only you, Tom… Only you..

For a single moment our screen is black before slowly beginning to fade up into what is best described as a gothic church. The eaves are decked in darkness, the walls an unforgiving grey brick and the art the lurches from every wall screams dark and moody. It is the kind of place that you would expect to find in a poorly produced low budget horror movie, not somewhere we’d expect to find a mob of parishioners intently listening to a fever pitched sermon.

(The Preacher) God does not love you unconditionally. He is not blind to race, creed, sex or sexuality…

The Preacher, as he likes to be known, is stood behind an ornate gold lectern that would traditionally hold a large and quite probably gaudy copy of the bible. But this evening there is no bible to be seen. Instead The Preacher stands, in a well-tailored yet simple black suit and his hands rested on the lectern looking out over his congregation.

(The Preacher) He is not blind to these things.

Blurred in the background and standing to both the left and right of The Preacher are two skin headed white men. They are in equally well-made suits and whilst their expressions are impossible to read the body language of their blurred poses comes through loud and clear.

[censored] off and die, is the general tone.

The Preacher meanwhile is much more relaxed and much friendly on the eye, which is probably why he’s in focus and his associates aren’t. And whilst the nuances in his voice give away his English routes his accent is surprisingly neutral. He does not want his message to be lost in his nationality.

(The Preacher) He sees them and He does not accept them.

For a moment he casts an accusing stare over his rapt audience, searching for those who would dare to doubt his message. Daring someone to stand up and argue. But no one does.

(The Preacher) He does not accept the fags and the niggers. He does not accept the Sikhs or the Buddhist. He does not accept the Jews. They are not His people. They are the spawn of Satan and He rejects them. And we must follow our God, the one true God, we must follow him and we must learn from him. He has rejected these agents of sin and so must we, for we are not better then God. We are not even equal to Him.

And so I tell you to reject Satan. I tell you to reject his offers of friendship and his promises of reward. I tell you to reject Satan and to cast him and his people aside. God does not want you to accept sin. God does not want you to accept Satan. God does not want us to sit by and allow the creations of Satan and the fornicators of sin to over power us.

To rule us.

To control us.

We are His people and we must do His work. We must not allow ourselves to be challenged or stopped by those that wish to protect Satan and the evil that he preaches. We must learn to stand up and cast off the shackles of sin.

As he begins to rage it is hard to deny that this man, this Preacher has an inspiring level of charisma, and somehow, despite his morally questionable message he radiates charm. He is the kind of man that makes it into the newspapers of the world after convincing groups of normally well rounded and rationale people to come live on a farm and ascend to Heaven with him!

(The Preacher) We must cast these shackles off and we will cast these shackles off and when we have…

A momentary pause; just long enough to punctuate and accentuate the statement to come.

(The Preacher) When we are free of the sins of this modern world we will seek out the agents of evil that live among us. The blacks. The gays. The Jews. We will seek them out and we will do the work of God, the one true God, and we shall claim back what is rightfully His. We are His people and He has entrusted us to do his work and we cannot fail Him.

I will not allow His world, our Lords world to be corrupted any longer. I will stand against the work of Satan and I will cast him aside. And I will stand against those who oppose the true voice of our Lord and they shall be crushed…

It seems that there is probably more to this speech. A lot more.

But someone in the editing suite decided that we didn’t need to hear it because our screen is fading away back to the black that brought us to this church. And as it fades away a simple yet effective message appears upon our screen.

The Silent Brotherhood

Coming Soon

(Tom) What the heck was that all about?

(JB) I'm not so sure myself. Feeling a bit uncomfortable there Bear?

(Tom) Not as much as you should be, sinner.

(JB) This guy needs to lighten up and not be so narrow minded.

(Tom) Yeah... Isn't this a wrestling show?

(JB) It was the last time I checked. Speaking of checking, we're going to check in backstage right now.

Where were you when the ball started to roll?

He was right here, chugging away at a six-pack of La Fin Du Monde (a wonderful, wonderful product from the awesome folks at Unibroue in Quebec) provided by that wonderful sleazeball Hector Gonzales. Now, one would guess that allowing the talent to drink backstage is a bad thing, but it's not like Vincent Yun Chang has a match lined up or anything.

The only reason he's even backstage is because he was called up "just in case", though with the Foundation running as incredibly smoothly as it is, that's not bloody likely. In reality, Vince is backstage attempting to relax after another round of attempts at getting him to sign a long-term contract.

No contract. Hence, no match. The Foundation's attorneys already have enough to deal with as it is.

That's not to say they haven't pulled out all the stops, though. Pay equal to the top FHC contenders? Creative control clause? A larger cut of merchandising? Working only half of all road dates?

They've offered, but with a bemused Cougar Clarke walking out of the room just as the shot pans into the locker room, it's obvious that the answer has still been no.

And so Vincent climbs from a bright neon green lawn chair, having just turned down one of the few men backstage who commands unconditional respect from the boys, and takes the last pull from his bottle of fresh Canadian beer before tossing the bottle into a trash can about ten feet away.

Nothing but bag. Eat that, Shaq.

The camera follows him, panning back as he leaves the locker room, and falling behind slightly as we chase down the hall toward the loading docks--

(???) Well, if it isn't Vincent Yun Chang!

What the hell-ass?

(???) What the hell-ass?

There must be an echo in here.

This might get a little confusing, considering there's some rather heady British accents here, so here's the rundown. The light, feminine, bouncy one is obviously Vince -- there's no mistaking that tone anywhere. The lower, darker, more refined one belongs to the man in a suit stepping out from an adjoining hall, right in front of our dotted-line-dodging subject.

(???) I was hoping I'd meet you back here, Mister Yun Chang. It's been such a long time since I've spoken to someone who actually speaks the Queen's English, though I don't believe the phrase 'what the hell-ass' is gramattically correct.

As Vincent sits up slightly and twists his neck around to get a better look at the intruder (no pun intended) in his midst, it turns out to be the only other Englishman on the roster; Aleister Essex, the manager of Hush. However, for seemingly the first time, Essex is flying solo, having approached VYC all alone, with no trace of Hush in the vicinity.

However, for his part, Vince doesn't seem very impressed with Essex. His eyeroll, the fact that he's still leaning on the foot closest to the loading dock exit, all of his body language suggests he'd rather be anywhere but dealing with this.

(VYC) Look, as much as I'd love to stay and chat...whoever you are...I have to be going.

(Essex) Why? It's not like you could possibly have better things to do in mind.

Vince looks at Essex for a moment, quirking an eyebrow and generally scrunching up his face with not the least bit of confusion showing.

(VYC) What the fuck do you want?

Essex guffaws.

(Essex) What does anyone want?

(VYC) I don't know, is this going to become one of those questions only games like on Whose Line?

(Essex) Discourse, my good man, discourse! I've been wanting to speak with you...you seem to be down in the dumps and I think I know something that might help --

Uh-oh. That doesn't seem to have helped matters much. Vince looks like he's about to haul off and deck him for some reason or another, shakes his head, and cracks open the door to leave.

(VYC) That Dianetics bullshit again. Third time tonight...eat a bag of hell.

(Essex) No, no, no! It's not that at all!

Said while Essex stymies the effort Vince puts into opening the door by shoving it closed again.

(Essex) I take it you haven't been watching the monitor, tonight, per chance?

Vince drapes his hand over his forehead dramatically.

(VYC) The Christian Science Monitor? Aw, shit, just when I thought it couldn't --

(Essex) God, no. You must really be wound up...I mean, you're assuming I'm some sort of religious zealot and you haven't even given me time to explain anything! I just can't see how you could think that just because one undercard "talent" was a veritable loon...

(VYC) Just one? Pal, you wouldn't believe how many I've had come up to me these last few weeks with some pamphlet or another.

Essex's lips curled into a smile.

(Essex) Names?

Whilst Vince's gave out from the force of his sigh.

(VYC) Not on camera. Maybe later.

(Essex) Fair enough. when I said monitor, I meant the video broadcast. You know on the box that shows the magic moving pictures that those wizards put backstage?

(VYC) Now you're mocking me. How original.

Essex's hands rose up to his chest as he pleaded with Vincent.

(Essex) I meant it with all due respect. Now will you stop interrupting me? Jesus Christ...Anyway, I just made an open challenge for my charge -- you haven't heard of Hush, I'm assuming, but then again, he IS the reason why Matthew Kurresh is nowhere to be found tonight. With a reputation like that it's very, very hard to find decent opponents these days, and management has a tendency to sit on its thumbs, so I figured I'd simply call out to everyone in the locker room and have them experience first hand what my protege can do. He's going to be huge, his legacy will reach mythic proportions; I can just feel it.

(VYC) And this is what you wanted to talk to me about?

(Essex) No, but I do so like shilling a decent challenge, wouldn't you? Besides, it's not like you could take me up on it...after all, you don't have a contract yet. I mean, what if you got hurt? The Foundation wouldn't cover the bill!

This caught Vince's attention.

(VYC) ...Hurt?

(Essex) Of course! I mean, I'm sure Hush wouldn't be a big problem for you at all...look at the way you took care of Arwel Jones at Ultimate Showdown a couple of years back?

(VYC) I lost that one.

And deep down inside, you could tell that Essex knew that already.

(Essex) You did? Hmm...oh, but you understand what I mean. There's always a chance, and I know that's what you're afraid of, getting hurt and all. Maybe next time...

(VYC) Huh?

(Essex)Oh, nothing. Besides, I need to check up on Hush to see if he's still locked away backstage, and I completely forgot what I really wanted to talk to you about...I'm so forgetful. Maybe that can wait until next time, too! So until then...

Turning about-face, the sly and sinister Essex gives the impression that he is about to leave Vincent Yun-Chang in peace, but the truth is the contrary as Essex, raising a finger in the air as though just having remembered something to say, stopped right in his tracks.

(VYC) By the way, Vincent...you were right. It did have to die. A pity you're too scared to get involved.

A parting shot that serves its purpose -- Vince turns around and raises his fist, ready to smash Essex's face in, but not surprisingly, he finds that Essex is already gone. Gone, and leaving Vince panting, teeth clenched in anger.

He flings the door open furiously and walks out.

Fini.

(JB) This a pathetic excuse for a Foundation Heavyweight Championship match!

(Tom) What do you mean, Mann-Wheel? As the… and it pains me to say this, former, Foundation Heavyweight Champion, Keith Owens has the right to exercise his rematch clause whenever he sees fit!

(JB) I understand that Bear.

(Tom) What better time to utilize that rematch clause then when Del Carver is still walking to the ring with a saline drip in his arm?

(JB) I don’t have a problem with Owens asking for his rematch so soon, Bear. What I do have a problem with is that overgrown infant running to Hector to get Ron Barker instilled as the Special Guest Referee.

(Tom) Are you questioning Ron Barker’s character?

(JB) Yes I am! The man has had nothing but ill wishes for Diamond Del Carver since he arrived, and as he’s proven thus far, is still bitter about losing to Carver at Ultimate Showdown.

(Tom) Well if Barker starts acting unfairly towards Keith Owens, at least Trevor Cunning will be out there to make sure the Difference Maker gets a fair deal.

(JB) Are you willfully ignorant, or just plain stupid?

(Tom) I like to keep expectations low, that way; on the odd occasion I do choose to say something intelligent people will be gleefully surprised… It makes my life easier.

(JB) You’re a great example for the children.

(Tom) I try my best…

Ron Barker emerges from the back to his theme music, dawning his stripes, and drawing absolute disgust from the crowd.

(Tom) Speaking of great examples, it’s Ron Barker! Doesn’t he look stately in those zebra stripes?

(JB) You sound like Kramer gushing over Chronic.

(Tom) Don’t you ever compare me to Kramer!

(JB) Barker’s just oozing smugness.

(Tom) They have a pill for that.

(JB) For what?

(Tom) Oozing. Your mother takes it twice daily for her…

“Its All About The Benjamins” rock remix hits the speakers and everybody in the arena is ready for who is about to step through those curtains. Melissa Hayes steps through first and stands slightly to the right hand side of the stage. She holds out her arms as if to present someone. Moments later, another person steps through and stands in the middle of the stage. A spotlight shines down in the middle on him, and of course it’s none other than Keith Owens. This signals a shower of golden sparks from the rafters down below onto the ramp. Keiths arms look a bit empty without the Foundation gold in them. Trevor Cunning follows from the back a short time later.

Melissa grabs a hold of his arm and the two of them make their way down the ring, largely ignoring the many fans booing them and giving them a hard time. At the bottom of the ramp, Melissa breaks away and heads up the ring steps first. She sits on the middle rope in a seductive matter, holding it open for Keith who follows a short distance behind her before entering himself.

(Troy) And now, in the ring, accompanied by the lovely Melissa Hayes, KEITH OWENS!

(Tom) There he is, the man who should be Foundation Heavyweight Champion

(JB) Should be? Were you watching the same match I was?

(Tom) Keith Owens lost the match due to shoddy refereeing. If it wasn’t for that idiot barring Trevor Cunning and Melissa Hayes from ringside…

(JB) They were cheating!

(Tom) They weren’t caught.

(JB) Yes they were, Bear. That’s why they were kicked out of ringside!

(Tom) I see your mouth moving, Mann-Wheel, but you sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown.

(JB) I can’t believe…

(Tom) Wahwahwahwah… Wah Wah Wah.

(JB) that you would defend…

(Tom) Wahwahwah…

(JB) these hooligans!

(Tom) Your mother.

"South Texas Death Ride" by Union Underground starts to play. Diamond Del Carver slowly, calmly and confidently walks into the aisle. Carver is wearing his usual gear, black biker boots, faded jeans, and an NAFW T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. However now he has the addition of the Foundation Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder. The man known as "The Hardcore Outlaw" is also decked out in a black leather vest, black fingerless gloves, and of course his blind eye is covered with a black leather eyepatch. Carver stretches out both his arms as he walks down the aisle, touching hands with the fans who reach out to him for a high five. As soon as he gets to the ring, he slowly walks around the ringside area, slapping hands with the fans as his music continues to play. Diamond Del Carver balls up his fist and pounds it against the fists of any fans who reach out to him.

(JB) Listen to that reaction for Diamond Del Carver, Bear! I can barely hear myself speak!

(Tom) I wish I couldn’t hear you speak!

(JB) Del Carver defeated five men, three in one night, to reach the pinnacle of Sports Entertainment!

(Tom) Big deal! Keith Owens defeated six other men in the same night to win the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!

(JB) Why do you refuse to give any credit to Diamond Del?

(Tom) Easy. I’m not an inbred hick from Podunk…

(JB) So you’re saying…

(Tom) I’m not like you, Mann-Wagon! I’m not going to hop on the bandwagon for every shiny, new toy that Daddy Hector brings home from the outlet mall. Del Carver is washed up. He got lucky, and he’s going to lose the Foundation Heavyweight Championship tonight!

(JB) Would you like to place a bet on that?

(Tom) Nah. Your mom withholds sex when I take your lunch money.

Carver doesn't get in the ring, as he obviously senses a trap with Barker, Owens, and Cunning all at ringside. He clutches onto his championship belt as he stares down all the men.

(Tom) What a coward! Just get in the damn ring, Carver!

(JB) He’s walking into a trap, Bear!

(Tom) Exactly. He knows it. He should stop being a wimp, grab his ankles, and take it like a man.

Trevor Cunning circles around behind Carver, following him up the steps. Owens and Barker approach for opposite corners inside the ring, each with malice in their eyes.

(JB) This is repugnant, repulsive, revolting…

(Tom) Really? I think it’s rather… well, pretty damn awesome!

Carver spins and dives onto Cunning, tackling him into the steel ring barrier. He begins tossing heavy rights and lefts; thick soup bone blows into Cunning’s skull.

Owens hops through the ropes, grabs Carver by the hair, and moves to slam his head into the steel ringsteps. Carver tosses an elbow into Owens’ nose, chops him in the chest, and then pulls him forward, chest first, into the ring apron. He moves forward to go after Owens, but before Diamond Del can reach the Difference Maker, Trevor Cunning knees him in the small of the back. He grabs Del from behind, tosses him ribs first into the steel ring barrier, and begins choking him.

(JB) How is that not a blatant disqualification?

(Tom) They haven’t made it into the ring yet!

(JB) Barker already rang the bell!

(Tom) But he’s tying his shoes, Mann-Wheel. He can’t see what’s going on!

Owens, now recovered, joins Cunning in choking Carver. The two pull Del towards the steps, lift him up, and drop him across the jagged ringsteps on his already injured ribs. As Del lies across the steps, Owens and Cunning both begin dropping elbows on his side and the small of his back.

After six, they roll him inside. Owens slides in, hooks the leg, and Barker counts a quick two. His mat hits the hand in a rapid succession, barely reaching his chin before it strikes the mat for the second time.

(JB) That was a fast count!

(Tom) I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about, Mann-Wagon.

(JB) That wasn’t even two seconds.

(Tom) I’ll take “Things Mann-A-Tee’s Wife Says After Sex for Two-Hundred,” Alex!

Still, Carver has the wherewithal to kick out.

Owens begins stomping Carver, making sure to focus on his ribcage. He waits for Carver to climb to his knees before stepping back and punting him square in the chest. Carver rolls back towards the corner, where he finds himself in a seated position.

Cunning runs over, holds Carver’s arms behind him, allowing Owens a perfect target for a charging dropkick. His feet land square across Carver’s trunk, and the Foundation Heavyweight Champion screams in agony.

Normally, Carver would be able to roll out of the ring or down to the mat to protect himself from further assault, but Cunning still has his arms pinned back in a surfboard position. Owens rushes in and hits a second dropkick right to Carver’s exposed midsection.

(JB) Ron Barker is a son of a bitch. Trevor Cunning is a son of a bitch.

(Tom) How dare you, Mann-Wagon! Barker is going over to admonish Cunning.

Ron Barker leans over the top rope to talk to Cunning, allowing Keith Owens to pick up the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. He waits for Del Carver to get to his feet.

(JB) Owens has that belt! Carver’s punch drunk!

(Tom) I’d actually say he’s dropkick drunk…

Owens charges in, diving with the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. Carver ducks, purely on instinct, then boots Owens in the gut. Keith drops the FHC, allowing Carver to DDT him on the title and cover for the pin, just in time for Ron Barker to witness.

Barker counts one before grabbing his shoulder. He turns away from the pinfall to shake his shoulder loose. The fans count to five before Carver rolls off of Owens. Barker rolls back over towards the pair, looking puzzled when he sees both men down on their backs.

He begins counting to ten, albeit slowly.

Owens is the first two his feet, and looks for a lariat. Carver ducks, bounces off the ropes, and hits a stiff lariat of his own.

(JB) Diamond Line!

A second Diamond Line puts Owens on his ass. Carver digs down deep, the fans rallying behind him, and hits the ropes a third time. Before he can return, Trevor Cunning grabs Carver’s ankle. Carver reaches over the top rope and grabs Cunning’s hair, pulling him up towards the apron. He holds his fist back in the air as Cunning begs away, and the fans are screaming, desperate for Carver to knock Trevor Cunning on his ass. Before he can, Keith Owens interrupts, pulling Carver down from behind with a neckbreaker.

(JB) Now do you see what I’m talking about Bear? This is two on one, and Barker’s turning a blind eye to the whole damn thing!

(Tom) It could be worse, Mann-Wheel. Barker could join in.

Owens mounts Carver and grabs his hair; pulling Del’s head up and slamming it back onto the canvas. Barker begins counting to four in five second installments; only asking Owens to stop once the damage is done. Keith then steps to the outside apron before springboarding in with a rolling senton. Keith covers, Barker again counts quickly, and Del Carver again kicks out at 2 and a half.

Owens pulls Carver to his feet and irish-whips him across the ring. He hits a hurricanrana on the return, the force of the snap sending Del to the outside. Carver rolls onto the mat and Cunning pounces, stomping Diamond Del.

(JB) Now Barker and Owens are having a casual conversation in the corner!

(Tom) Well, the playoffs are underway.

(JB) So this is how it’s going to be? Cunning does all the dirty work while Owens reaps the benefits?

Cunning then pulls Carver to his feet and lifts Carver up over his shoulder. He charges towards the ring post, intent on slamming Del face first into the cold, unforgiving steel. Carver however, slips behind Cunning and pushes him into the pole.

Owens hears the crowd pop and goes over to investigate. As he leans through the ropes, Carver nails him with an uppercut. He staggers back, allowing Carver to climb to the apron. A second charge allows Carver the opportunity to bury his shoulder in Owens’ midsection, and a sunset flip follows. Owens rolls through, Carver rolls backwards, and with both men now on their feet, Keith jumps in with a spinning wheel kick.

Carver ducks, Owens lands on his ass, and the moment he reaches his feet, Del is waiting.

(JB) Diamond Cutter!

(Tom) Where the hell is Del Carver getting the energy?

(JB) That should do it, if Carver can cover!

Del climbs back to his feet, where he finds Ron Barker waiting patiently. Barker smiles, rakes Carver’s good eye, kicks him in the midsection, and hits his signature move.

(JB) I apologize for my language, folks, but this is bullshit!

(Tom) It’s genius, Mann-Wheel. Del Carver might have heart, he might have muscle, but he doesn’t have the brains… or the friends of Keith Owens.

With Carver now comatose, Ron Barker drags Keith Owens on top of the fallen Foundation Heavyweight Champion. He begins counting, slowly this time, as if to rub this thievery in Del Carver’s face.

One.

Two.

Before Ravishing Ron Barker can count three, an unseen individual rips him from the ring. The crowd goes crazy.

(Tom) Speaking of bullshit!

(JB) It’s Mike Lane!

(Tom) Where the hell did he come from?

Barker and Lane begin exchanging lefts and rights, with Lane slowly gaining an advantage. He ducks a Barker haymaker, steps back, and looks for the Shadow Kick, but before he can, Trevor Cunning runs in and knocks Lane down with a lariat.

Cunning picks up a steel chair as Barker grabs Lane and holds his arms behind his back. Cunning runs forward, but before he can connect with a chairshot…

(JB) From the crowd, just like Spaz just did!

Spaz leaps off of the steel guardrail, dropkicking the chair into Cunning’s face. Barker bails, running into the ring to avoid Mike Lane and Spaz.

(JB) Things just got a lot more interesting!

(Tom) If by interesting, you mean depressing, then I agree.

Spaz tries to follow, but a recovered Owens knocks him off of the apron onto the guardrail. Carver stumbles to his feet, still slightly groggy. Barker grabs the FHC and tosses it to Owens, Keith measures Del Carver, looking to finish this once and for all. He speeds forward, belt raised high at eye level.

He never sees Mike Lane. He does however, feel the Shadow Kick nearly collapse his lungs. Before Barker can call for the disqualification, Del Carver nearly takes his head off with a Diamond Line. Upon reaching his feet, he too eats a Shadow Kick and tumbles outside the ring.

Lane follows Barker outside, leaving Carver all alone with Keith Owens. He gestures to the crowd, eliciting a fervent response, giving Keith just enough time to reach his feet. Carver irish-whips Owens, then hits a back body drop on the return. Owens scrambles to his feet; just in time to eat a Diamond Line. A second Diamond Line puts Owens on his ass. He staggers to his feet, Carver irish-whips him into the corner, and hits the ten count punches.

Del Carver, immersed in a sea of applause, awash with an overflow of cheers and jubilation, waits for the perfect moment. Keith Owens stumbles punch drunk to the center of the ring and Del steps in and sets Owens up for the Diamond Death Drop.

Keith struggles, trying to escape, but Del holds on with unseen strength stemming from both anger and pure emotion. He drops Owens on his head and covers, but without a referee to count the pin, there’s no end in sight.

Walt Mason runs to the ring from the locker room, slides under the bottom rope, and immediately begins counting. Before he can reach three however, Trevor Cunning pulls him back under the bottom rope. He winds up, looking to knock Mason out cold with a pair of brass knuckles, but before he can swing, Spaz comes up from behind, swings Cunning around, and hits the Sugar Rush on the concrete.

Walt Mason crawls back under, still groggy from being manhandled. He counts one… two…

The bell rings.

Three.

(JB) Diamond Del Carver has done it once again! He's pinned Keith Owens and retained the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!

(Tom) No! This is an outrage! Damn Mike Lane and Spaz!

(JB) Mike Lane and Spaz helped even this score of "Referee" Ron Barker, Trevor Cunning, and Keith Owens taking an unfair advantage over DDC.

(Tom) Now what is Keith Owens going to do? That was his rematch for the Foundation title!

(JB) Who cares? He blew his chance after stacking the odds in his favor. This is Diamond Del Carver's time!

Barker, Owens, and Cunning are grouped on the outside by the ramp, while Spaz, Lane, and Carver stand victorious on the inside of the ring. Spaz hands off the Foundation title to DDC who holds it up in the face of those three men. Keith looks absolutely livid and can't believe that Spaz and Lane costed him the title in his plan. With this intense staredown in place, the shot fades out and the NAFW logo rolls.