At the same time a countdown appears on screen.
The guitar riff is playing over this countdown.
When the countdown reaches zero, there’s a pause, and then the rest of the hard hitting instruments kick in.
Rapid action shots of Keith Owens bashing people with light tubes are shown.
Caskets are flying over the edge of stages.
Dwayne Bishop and Jaime Alejandro powerbomb Keith Owens through the announce table!
Mike Lane Shadow Kicks a jobber iinto next week.
Mike Stryker has the New York Cloverleaf locked and his opponent is screams in agony.
The Wild Boys perform a double suplex on someone.
Diamond Del Carver executes the Diamond Death Drop on someone.
We cut to Keith Owens drilling David Kurresh with the Difference Maker, and then the song hits with a giant drum roll.
The intro video ends and we flash to the Annihilation logo.
ON
Cue the huge boom of the indoor pyrotechnics display.
BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
Finally, the camera cuts to the ringside announcer’s table, where JB Mann and Tom “The Bear” Kalhoun are standing by.
(JB) Welcome to Annihilation, fans.
(Tom) I’m Thomas Kalhoun, Esquire.
(JB) Esquire?
(Tom) And with me, as always is a jerk in an ugly suit.
(JB) Otherwise known as J.B. Mann.
(Tom) I prefer Mann-hole.
(JB) Of course you do, Bear. Well wrestling shut-ins…
(Tom) Thanks Cougar…
(JB) We’re supposed to hear from the Foundation Heavyweight Champion, Diamond Del Carver, regarding the rumors of his resignation.
(Tom) So where is the moron? Out buying another denim vest?
(JB) I’m not quite sure, Bear. Production has told me that Del Carver is here tonight, so I don’t know why he isn’t here or what this is all about…
Ding Dong, the Bitch is Gone
(Tom) The Benjamins, my dear Mann-chowder, is what this is all about. It’s the Trust Fund Kids!
(JB) Great. Instead of a Diamond we get two giant lumps of…
(Tom) Watch it.
(JB) Coal.
With the Rock Remix of P-Diddy’s “All About the Benjamins” blasting over the public address, Melissa Hayes pushes the curtains aside and steps out into the arena to a rousing chorus of profane chants. Trevor Cunning follows shortly thereafter, causing the hostility to intensify to Brazilian Soccer Riot proportions. By the time Keith Owens steps into view, the fans are screaming for blood.
(JB) What the hell are they doing out here? Honestly, this isn’t the best way to start my night.
(Tom) Maybe the Trust Fund Kids know where your precious Diamond Del is.
(JB) Knowing these two scumbags, they probably have something to do with Del Carver not being here right now!
The terrible trio make their way down the aisle, sticking the middle so as to avoid the filthy, sticky pig-hoof hands of the fans in attendance. Owens steps through the ropes and poses on the turnbuckle as Cunning goes to get a steel chair and a pair of microphones. He takes a seat in the middle of the ring, pops his collar, and begins speaking.
(Trevor) Do you feel it Keith? Do you smell it in the air?
(Keith) I’m sorry Trev, but all I can smell in Indianapolis is the stench of unmitigated failure. Seriously… losing forty-four to seventeen to the Jaguars? That’s pretty pathetic.
Oh no, Keith Owens... don't make fun of our beloved Colts. Even though they've never won a big game we Indy fans still supp... ah fuck it. Make fun of that two bit hack Manning all you want.
(Trevor) That’s not what I’m talking about my good man. Take another wiff…
(Keith) Now all I can smell are all the fat, unemployed slobs who bought tickets to watch me make fun of them. Here’s a hint, Indy… take a shower and burn your old Larry Bird jerseys, the has-been hasn’t been relevant in years.
(JB) The fans certainly don’t think so.
(Tom) Are they chanting “Larry Legend?”
(Trevor) This, my good friend, is what the NAFW feels like without Diamond Delroy Carver.
And it feels really ****ing good.
Both Melissa Hayes and Keith begin applauding Cunning’s statement. The fans boo vociferously, making sure that the Trust Fund Kids know that Indianapolis thinks that they are two assholes.
Keith places his hand on his chest as if he’s having a heart attack. His jaw drops, and he begins speaking in mock amazement, not even attempting to hide his sarcasm.
(Keith) But Trevor… I thought Mister Buchanan said that Del Carver didn’t quit. Why… you wouldn’t happen to know something that Buchanan doesn’t, now do you?
(Trevor) Why yes, Keith, I do. You see fans; I had a sit down interview with Diamond Del Carver earlier this week.
(JB) What a load of…
(Tom) Hey, Senor Skeptic. It’s nice to see that those two young men… well, one young man and one dinosaur… were able to settle their differences with words.
(Keith) You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of that interview with you tonight, would you Trevor?
(Trevor) Why yes I would Keith, and if our associate Mister Barker would be so kind as to ask the gentlemen in the production truck to broadcast that interview for us…
We cut to the back, where Ron Barker is standing in the production truck, obviously utilizing his intimidating presence into convincing the rather fragile Production Assistants into showing the footage.
From the production truck, we come back to the arena and do a fancy zoom in on the Tron, seamlessly transitioning to studio footage. We’re in a fancy library type study, with oak paneling on the walls, rich mahogany shelving, and many leather bound books. Seated in a high backed, burgundy colored leather chair is one Trevor Cunning.
Seated across from Mister Cunning, on a steel folding chair, wearing an eyepatch, a denim shirt, denim vest, and a denim jacket with a pair of jeans and a bad silver wig is Ron Barker.
(Trevor) Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the North American Foundation of Wrestling Heavyweight Champion: Delroy Carver. Thank you for joining me today Delroy.
(Ron Barker) It’s my pleasure, Mister Cunning sir.
(JB) That's not Del Carver!
(Tom) What makes you say that, Mann-Wagon?
(JB) Look at him, it's obviously Ron Barker in a horrible wig.
(Tom) But the denim... the DENIM!
(Trevor) And might I say I love your hillbilly tuxedo?
(Ron) Gee thanks. You don’t think all the denim is a little much?
(Trevor) Not at all. May I ask where you purchased your fine ensemble?
(Ron) Why at one of the many fine Salvation Army stores littered all across Indianapolis. Would you believe that it only cost me three dollars?
(Trevor) Yes, I would. Now getting straight to the point Delroy… why have you decided to vacate the Foundation Heavyweight Championship and run screaming into obscurity like the pathetic, whiny little bitch you truly are.
(Ron) You hit the nail right on the head, there Mister Cunning, sir. Now, it’s no secret that Del Carver’s a scrappy summabitch. After all, I do have a glass eye, a steel hip, two polycarbonate knees, and a pair of nuticles where my gonads used to be.
(Trevor) Wait just one second… you’ve got rubber balls?
(Ron) Yessir. Lost the left one in a Taipei Death Match just after World War Two and the right one… well, let’s just say that little Ainsley Lake is as feisty in the bedroom as she is in the ring.
(Trevor) She is quite the exuberant little bitch.
(Ron) Now, I figgered old Delroy would come over here to the NAFW, maybe rassle with some of my feller senior citizens.
(Trevor) Like Mike Lane and Spaz.
(Ron) Exactly. But I wasn't prepared to deal with all you whipper-snappers! Ron Barker came and beat me like a red headed step-child… and Keith Owens damn near broke my other hip with one of them flippy floppy moves that are all popular with the kids these days, and you’ve done nothing but make my life a livin’ hell.
To be honest, Mister Cunning sir, it was that last beatin’ the three of y’all gave me which really opened my eyes.
(Trevor) You mean eye, right?
(Ron) Exactly. It took a heroic young man such as you, Mister Cunning, sir, to place the metaphorical shotgun up to Old Yella’s head here and blow the truth into my tiny little brain.
(Trevor) So what you’re saying is someone should put a shotgun up to your head and pull the trigger?
(Ron) Sort of. I’m an embarrassment, Mister Cunning sir, trying to rassle at my age without a hip or pair of gonads. I’m embarrassin’ myself, my twenty-something skank of an ex-girlfriend, my thirteen illegitimate children and the sport of professional rasslin as a whole. So as an official announcemnent: Diamond Del Carver has retired officially, as of right now, a pathetic, washed up, has-been with no balls and as such I officially forfeit this here foundation title.
Officially.
(Trevor) You heard it here, fans… Diamond Del Carver has officially, and I mean officially, retired. Back to you Trevor.
We cut back to the arena, where Cunning and Owens are laughing hysterically.
(Trevor) Now, with Del Carver’s retirement and subsequent vacation of the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, he obviously won’t be defending the Foundation Heavyweight Championship at Last Rights.
(JB) Del Carver will be there. And he'll beat the hell out of any one of the three of you jackasses.
(Keith) Obviously. So as the man who…
(Trevor) Ahem.
(Keith) Right. Sorry. As the MEN who drove Del Carver out of the North Atlantic Foundation of Wrestling, I demand…
(Trevor) Ahem!
(Keith) Right. Sorry. We demand that you end this Vote or Die nonsense once and for all and declare me, Keith Owens…
(Trevor) AHEM!
(Keith) Do you just want to finish the announcement, Trevor?
(Trevor) Thanks Keith. We demand that the main event of Last Rites be a triple threat match for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!
(JB) Who are they kidding?
(Tom) It’s only fair. The three of them technically defeated Del Carver, on a technicality, and as such all of them deserve a shot at the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!
(JB) Not only does that not make any sense at all, but... but...
(Tom) But what, Mann-Chowder?
(JB) I just really want to see something bad happen to these three jackasses!
Cunning raises the mic to his lips to continue speaking, but his mic has been cut off. Owens hands Trevor his mic, but that has been shut off as well. The Tron explodes with static before cutting to a shot of Ray Buchanan standing before an NAFW backdrop.
(Buchanan) I think we've heard enough from the Trust Fund Kids this evening, don't you fans?
Cue the requisite pop for the heels being put into their places. Buchanan takes a second for the audience to calm down, and continues.
(Buchanan) First, let me reassure every man, woman and child looking forward to NAFW Last Rites: Anointed With Blood, that Diamond Del Carver will be there, and he will be defending the Foundation Heavyweight Championship against the Vote or Die! winner!
Pop a Doodle Do.
(Buchanan) Now to deal with the miscreants in the ring and in the back. Mister Barker, for threatening the production staff and interfering with my show, consider yourself the recipient of a significant fine.
Mister Owens, Mister Cunning... no one makes demands of Ray Buchanan. If you ever waste my time with skits and shenanigans such as these again you'll never get anywhere near the Foundation Heavyweight Championship ever again.
Pop rocks and soda Pop.
(Buchanan) So stay tuned for a blockbuster show, including a six man main event, featuring all the Vote or Die participants!
(JB) How about that?
(Tom) Buchanan wouldn't know a money match if it bit him in the ass and slept with his mother.
(JB) Vote or Die isn't a money match, Bear?
(Tom) Not on the level of Barker versus Owens versus Cunning! C'mon... Greatest. Triple Threat. Ever.
(JB) I'll take your word for it Bear. We'll be right back, fans.
Commercial
Charles Johnson vs. "The Reaper" Leonard Aarons
(JB) Up next we have a rematch over one year in the making.
(Tom) David Kurresh versus Keith Owens?
(JB) Nope.
(Tom) The Judge is coming back, dragging Groper’s bloody carcass to the ring to embarrass him once and for all on a national stage?
(JB) Not quite.
(Tom) Then who the frack is going to wrestle?
(JB) The Reaper, Leonard Aarons and Charles Johnson.
(Tom) They’ve had a match before?
(JB) Back at RAGE! in 2005.
(Tom) I was probably drunk for that.
(JB) When weren’t you drinking back then?
(Tom) I’m on my seventh step now. Don’t make fun or I’ll call my sponsor.
(JB) I still don’t know why the hell you were drinking so heavily back then…
(Tom) I learned it from you, alright!
(JB) …
(Tom) Or, it was the whole having to work with Kramer, nearly losing our jobs and having to prostitute myself to rich Columbian men…
(JB)…
(Tom) What? I’ve never been good with managing my money.
(JB) Well… anyways… This should be The Reaper’s big warmup for the Doddtown Street Fight at Last Rites!
(Tom) Woah, woah woah… First off, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Charles Johnson is no man’s warm up match.
(JB) I’m not saying that this will be easy, Bear. All I’m saying is…
(Tom) How many titles has Johnson held?
(JB) I understand that CJ is a former United States, Tag Team, and Intercontinental Champion, but the Reaper seems to have CJ’s num…
(Tom) And what in the name of Zangief is a Doddtown Street Fight anyway? I always thought that you named the street fight after the street you’re actually going to be fighting in… Chicago, or Los Angeles… you know, PLACES PEOPLE HAVE ACTUALLY HEARD OF!
(JB) You seem angry Bear.
(Tom) I haven’t seen your mother in a few weeks, Mann-Chowder, and I’m not really a fan of relieving my own stress, if you know what I mean.
(JB) I do, and I think I might vomit.
(Tom) Hey! Be nice. Your mother is an attractive woman!
The lights dim as we hear a Lion's roar throughout the arena. Three huge pyros bring the lights back on as the arena is flooded with strobing gold and crimson lights as "Tha Realist Killaz" by 2 Pac w/50 Cent is pumped over the speakers. As dry fog starts to emanate from the entranceway, The Reaper comes out wearing a black sleeveless hoodie with his trademark bloodied Lion's head on the back with two Reaper like staffs crossbone style underneath it. Aarons proceeds to walk down the aisle as he stops midway as he points skyward with three fingers extended before he quickly brings his right arm down to his throat making a slow cutthroat motion before spreading his arms wide as he yells, setting off a wall of solid gold pyro which covers the entranceway. Aarons then proceeds to charge toward the ring sliding in under the bottom rope as he gets to his feet, walking to the far right corner as he sits down. He sits staring at the entranceway before getting to his feet very quickly as he takes off his hoodie as he flings it into the crowd and prepares for his match looking focused as usual.
(Tom) Can you do me a favor, Mann-wagon? Hand me that large, leather bound book.
(JB) Alright, Bear. There you go.
(Tom) Thanks.
(JB) Wait a second… what the hell is that?
(Tom) It’s my “Reaper to English” dictionary.
(JB) Your what again?
(Tom) My “Reaper to English” dictionary. I mean, the guy has a funky name for every single thing he does.
(JB) It’s not his fault that he has a highly specialized offense, Bear.
(Tom) I knew kids that were highly specialized growing up, who had names for all their fingers and toes. They took the short bus to school.
(JB) Are you insinuating that Leonard Aarons is…?
(Tom) Obsessive compulsive to the point of retardation? Yes. He’s stupid and I don’t like him.
“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. Bouncing around the ring before focusing in on the match ahead. The last big of the song fades as he awaits the bell.
(JB) Bear, would you put the book down?
(Tom) Aarons has a specialty punch? What the crap?
(JB) We need to call the match, Bear.
(Tom) It’s a punch for Gord’s sake.
(JB) Bear…
(Tom) A specialty punch and a specialty kick. Not even a superkick, or a dropkick, or a low blow… just a regular back leg front kick.
(JB) Vanessa…
(Tom) Boobies? Where?
(JB) Back to the match.
Johnson offers his hand to Aarons, who looks at CJ’s offer with one dubious eyebrow raised. He looks around to the fans, asking if he should take Charles’ offer. Before he can make a decision, Mister Johnson nearly dislocates the Reaper’s jaw with a thick, heavy left hand. The Reaper stumbles back into the ropes, allowing CJ to irish-whip him across the ring. Johnson follows shortly thereafter, clotheslining Aarons over the top rope to the concrete below.
Aarons pulls himself back to his feet just in time for Johnson to leap over the top rope with a slingshot plancha.
(JB) That’s nearly three hundred pounds of Johnson smacking the Reaper right in the skull!
(Tom) I really wish you could hear yourself say that like I heard you say that. I think I just popped a comedy boner.
(JB) That’s digusting, Bear.
(Tom) So’s a three hundred pound Johnson smacking anyone in the skull.
The man formally known as Tharodund tosses the Reaper into the guardrail, skull first before pulling him to his feet. Johnson lifts the Reaper up and crotches him on the guardrail.
(JB) If this is any indication as to how the Reaper will perform in the Doddtown Street fight, then I don’t like his chances.
(Tom) Forget the street fight, Mann-chowder. After that move, I don’t like his chances of having children.
Johnson steps in front of the crotched Reaper, runs forward, and takes him off of the guardrail and to the floor with a big boot. With Aarons on the ground, Johnson pulls the protective padding off of the concrete floor.
(Tom) Hey Reaper, this one’s called the “Enjoy Your Reconstructive Skull Surgery, Jackass!”
(JB) What has gotten into Charles Johnson?
CJ attempts to piledrive Aarons on the concrete, but Aarons back body drops CJ onto the mats behind the pair. Aarons falls to his knees as CJ scrambles to his feet. When Johnson tries to pull CJ up to his feet by his hair, the Reaper grabs CJ by the top of the skull and falls down with a jawbreaker.
Aarons is shaking out the cobwebs, waiting for CJ to return. He tosses Johnson into the steel steps, and then throws him under the ring headfirst, leaving Johnson sticking out from under the ring from the torso down.
Aarons quickly hops onto the apron, climbs onto the middle ring rope, and using the rope as a trampoline, leaps high into the air and lands down with a double stomp on Charles Johnson’s lower back.
(JB) That might have ruptured one of CJ’s kidneys!
(Tom) Do you know what that’s called, Mann-Wheel, or do I have to start flipping through the index?
(JB) It’s certainly inventive, that’s for sure.
(Tom) I’ll take that as a no. Crap.
Aarons pulls Johnson to his feet and rolls him inside the ring. Once in the ring, he begins dropping elbows onto the small of Johnson’s back. The Ill Spinal Tap follows, as does a quick two count.
An irish-whip and a running high knee take Charles down for a second two count.
(Tom) That was called a purple fluffy dinosaur, right?
(JB) No, Bear. It’s called the Kneecap.
(Tom) Damnit. I can’t seem to match up the astrological chart to the name database.
(JB) What the hell are you talking about?
(Tom) I wish I knew, Mann-Wagon. I wish I knew.
Aarons begins getting cocky, and looks for a second Kneecap. Johnson however, holds onto the ropes, waits for Aarons to land on his feet, and then takes him right back off of his feet with a thundering lariat.
(Tom) Big Charlie, looking for the superkick!
(JB) Big Charlie?
Johnson lunges forward, extending his right leg in an attempt to move “Straight to the Top.” The Reaper ducks and hits the ropes, returning to face Johnson at full speed. Yet before Leonard Aarons can react, the athlete formally known as Tharodund spins in one fluid, effortless motion to take Aarons to the mat with a heavy lariat.
(Tom) Big time lariat… plain and simple, just the way I like it.
(JB) Why are you harping on the Reaper’s penchant for particular nomenclature?
(Tom) Think about all the complicated things in life and how they suck. Women with baggage and daddy issues… fancy restaurants that insist on throwing mushrooms or risotto into every gorddamn recipe… and those douchebags on Pimp My Ride!
(JB) I like Pimp My…
(Tom) You would, Mann-Chowder.
(JB) I just don’t understand why the Reaper’s…
(Tom) BECAUSE IT’S INDICITAVE OF SOCIETY’S TENDENCIES TO MOVE TOWARDS SPECIALIZATION AND PARTICULARIZTION WHICH INEVITABLY LEAVE THE COMMON MAN INABLE TO ENJOY THE SIMPLE JOYS WHICH MAKE LIFE WORTH LIVING!!!!!!!
(JB) Wow.
(Tom) I think I just had an aneurysm.
With Aarons down, Charles slaps on a reverse chinlock. He attempts to utilize his height advantage, but Aarons again uses the position to hit a jawjacker. He stops, waits for CJ to get to his feet, and hits the G.C.E. A series of knees to the head follows.
Aarons climbs to his feet, screaming loudly. He measures CJ, scoops him up onto his shoulders, looking for the Reaper’s Wrath. Johnson however, floats behind the Reaper and hits a German Suplex.
Both men are down… and manage to get up at around six. They begin exchanging lefts and rights, with neither gaining an advantage.
(JB) These two have always been evenly matched, and this encounter is just another example of it.
(Tom) Do you have a pencil, Mann-Chowder?
(JB) I’m sorry.
(Tom) You should be. A pencil please.
(JB) Just watch the damn match.
(Tom) But I’ve almost cracked the code!
Eventually, Johnson takes over with a shot to the throat. He scoop slams the Reaper, and then scoop slams him again. Johnson returns the favor from before with his own series of knees to the skull, before scooping Aarons up and looking for the Corporate Coup. Aarons floats behind, clubs Johnson in the back of the skull with an elbow, and spins him around. He looks for the Chokeslam from Illtown, but a matching Goozle from Johnson leaves both men stumbling around, choking each other, looking for an advantage. Eventually, Johnson releases his hand from the Reaper’s throat.
(JB) He’s going up!
(Tom) No he’s not.
Before the Reaper can even lift CJ, Johnson plants a field goal right between the Reaper’s legs.
(Tom) Told you.
(JB) That’s a blatant low blow!
(Tom) No, it’s called “Go Back to Jersey You Filthy Cesspool Scumbag!”
With the Reaper stunned, to say the least, and doubled over with his hands on his boy parts, Johnson pulls the Reaper up and hits the Corporate Coup. While Walt Mason begins yelling at Johnson, CJ counts his own three.
(JB) What the hell is this?
(Tom) Sure, now there are boobs, after I sat through all of that… For the love of Zangief… I was doing math!
Vanessa begins walking down the ramp, passing Charles Johnson as he walks to the back. She’s holding a kendo stick across her shoulders, her arms hooked on top to push her chest out as far as possible. She climbs into the ring and stands astride the Reaper, pointing the kendo stick into his chest. She stands up, laughs, and drops the kendo stick on his chest.
(JB) What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is Vanessa trying to send a message to the Reaper?
(Tom) She’s sending a message deep down into my loins, that’s for sure.
(JB) Is all you ever think about? Sex?
(Tom) I like ponies.
Referee Phil Redding bends down to check on the Reaper, but Aarons refuses to let Mason help him. He sees the kendo stick next to him on the mat, and Vanessa standing on the ramp, laughing at him. He uses the stick as a cane, pushing himself to his feet, and grabs Phil Redding by the belt. He pushes Redding towards the ropes, then canes him in the back of the skull before Redding can take two steps. Three more cane shots to the skull and face follow, leaving Redding a bloody lump on the canvas.
Gasping for Air
Aarons is staring down the way at his ex-flame. He gets a microphone handed to him as he puts his foot on the throat of Phil Redding, pressing down as he struggles for air. Aarons simply closes his eyes, bringing the mic to his lips as he prepares to speak.
(The Reaper) Ah...I haven't felt that in a long while. You remember this, don't ya Vanessa? The feeling of having a man's hopes and dreams underneath your foot, knowing that the second you pressed down...
The thumping on the mat becomes louder, as Aarons opens his eyes looking down at the beaten Redding as he flashes a very coy grin down at him. His face, as if it needs to be stated, is turning a not so happy shade of red right now.
(The Reaper) It would all be over. And at Last Rites, in the first ever Doddtown Street Fight, that's exactly what's going to happen to your Dummy of the Month. Because you see, while I'm sure he's sitting back there wondering what you've gotten him into, I figured I'd be kind enough to tell him exactly what's what...before he steps through the ropes and has the holy hell beaten out of him. You see, this will be just like any other street fight he has been in over the course of his fairly long and uninteresting career. There will be no countouts...no disqualifications. Come as you are, bring what you want. Simple right? Ah...but there's one small catch. You see people, your average street fight has it so that the pinfall or submission can only take place inside of the ring.
The crowd boos this, as Aarons lets up off of Redding's throat as he starts to slowly walk over towards the ropes facing the aisleway and Vanessa Chamberlain.
(The Reaper) And that's why with a Doddtown Street Fight, FALLS...COUNT...ANYWHERE.
Huge pop.
(JB) How about that?
(Tom) That's just means there's more room for Bishop to kick the Reaper's ass!
(The Reaper) That's right Bishop, if I decide I wanna beat your ass in a men's room, I can. If I decide I want to drag your ass all the way up to the roof of the place or even down to the damn basement, I can do that. Regardless, at Last Rites, you can thank Vanessa for the hospital stay you're inevitably going to have to deal with as a result of what I do to you. You can thank Vanessa for pumping you up just to get knocked the f[bleep]k down. But most of all, thank yourself for being too spinally challenged...to stop it. Last Rites, f[bleep]k feeling my wrath. At Last Rites, I'm gonna read you yours, BITCH.
(Tom) How dare he talk to my Vanessa that way!
(JB) I just think Vanessa's lucky that Len Aarons is still in the ring, and not going after her with that Kendo Stick!
The fans erupt as Aarons drops the mic, pointing at Chamberlain striking his signature pose as Chamberlain sneers, before heading back through the curtain.
Smear Campaign: Keith Owens
We fade from the standard black screen to a color photo of a homeless shelter. More specifically, the image before you is of a soup kitchen line, with dozens upon dozens of homeless men and women. Standing amongst them, with a pile of loaves to his left and fishes to his right with an American flag draped across his shoulders is one Trevor Cunning. Little homeless puppies have gathered at his feet to eat from dog dishes filled to the brink with miniature loaves and fishes. A child sits on his shoulder, clad in rags. He has a small crutch under his right arm, yet seems outstandingly happy.
This image fades to one of Keith Owens standing in the middle of his homemade, backyard ring in Illinois.
Keith Owens
The still photo is replaced by a quick montage of Keith performing the "Don't Try This At Home" Shooting Star Press off of various turnbuckles, balconies and ladders.
Street Style
Next we see the montage from Annihilation's weekly credits of Keith hitting the Difference Maker on David Kurresh not one, not two, but three times to retain the Foundation Heavyweight Championship at Oblivion.
The Difference Maker
Finally, we have a still photograph, a candid shot of Keith Owens and Trevor Cunning out at what appears to be a Bennigans or a Shenanigans.
Keith Owens may hold the record for most X-Treme title defenses in one championship reign.
We see clips of three count upon three count, with Owens picking up the victory against nearly a dozen opponents.
Keith Owens may be the longest running Foundation Heavyweight Champion in Foundation History.
The next series of clips shows Owens pinning Jack Flint, David Kurresh, the Intruder and Faithless.
What you don't know about Keith Owens however, is that he is deathly afraid of old people.
The image before you is of a kindly old man, smiling for the camera, wearing a pink and blue party hat. His skin is covered in wrinkles and liverspots. Off in the background , we see Keith Owens, ignoring the man on his birthday. The screen darkens and a bright circle focuses on the young champion, much more interested in cake than his paternal ancestor.
Keith Owens never visited his grandfather in the hospital when he was dying. Keith will tell you that he was on the road, wrestling, but we know the truth.
Keith Owens is afraid of old people.
Next we see the brutal attack that sent Keith Owens off to Japan and Dave Kaos towards a Foundation Heavyweight Championship match against Faithless.
When Senator Owens paid Dave Kaos to break Keith’s knee in an attempt to end his career, did Keith stick around and get his revenge?
Of course he didn’t. Keith Owens ran off to Japan.
Do you want a Foundation Heavyweight Champion who is afraid of his father?
Trevor Cunning doesn't.
Our next montage shows Keith Owens in control of the Demon, which finally fades to a still photo of NAFW Legend Griever.
When Keith Owens was faced with the threat from Tyler Hyatt, did he stand up to Griever like a man?
Of course he didn’t.
Keith Owens ran to daddy and had the Senator resolve the situation.
A montage of still photos of Trevor Cunning follow. The first is of Trevor sitting in a nursing home, holding a giant bowl of applesauce. Cunning is sitting next to a kindly old man, even more kindly than the one in the previous photos. The old man is smiling without teeth as Cunning spoon feeds him apple sauce.
FACT: Trevor Cunning loves his grandfather.
The next is of Cunning’s father, Robert.
FACT: Trevor Cunning stands up to his father regularly, and quite frankly would have no problem beating up his father if his father attempted to end his professional wrestling career..
The next is an obviously photoshopped image of Griever and Trevor Cunning in an NAFW ring. Griever is lying prone across an old NAFW logo, circa 2003, and Cunning is standing with one foot on the air nearly six inches above Hyatt’s chest. You can still see part of the stool Cunning had his foot on.
FACT: Trevor Cunning would have kicked Griever’s ass and then, just because he could, beat the hell out of Dave Kaos using Tyler Hyatt’s unconscious body as a weapon.
The next piece of our montage consists of clips from a recent Annihilation. We see Diamond Del Carver pinning and defeating Keith Owens not once, but twice, before Cunning rolls up Carver for a three count.
FACT: Keith Owens has already lost to Diamond Del Carver twice. Trevor Cunning is the only NAFW Superstar who holds a victory over Diamond Del Carver.
Our last piece of footage is a montage within a montage. We speed through the images we’ve already seen, in reverse, ending with the smiling Cunning in a homeless shelter.
FACT: Trevor Cunning, unlike Keith Owens, isn’t afraid of old people, his dad, or washed up has beens.
FACT: Trevor Cunning, isn’t afraid of anyone.
- Successful Champion.
- Trevor Cunning’s Best Friend and Sidekick.
- Unable to Stand Up to His Father.
- Sleeps with a Nightlight.
- Afraid of Anyone over the Age of 30.
Trevor Cunning
- Also a Successful Champion
- Leader of the Trust Fund Kids
- Stands up to his Father.
- Would Kick Griever’s Ass.
- Not Afraid of the Old and Infirm.
- Your next Foundation Heavyweight Champion!
Trevor walks onto the screen, wearing a blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and red tie. Behind him is the American Flag.
"I'm Trevor Cunning, and I approve this message"
Fade to black.
(JB) I can't imagine that Keith Owens will be too happy about that!
(Tom) Say it ain't so, Trevor... say it ain't so!
Heatwave and Jimmy Riley vs. The Wild Boys
(JB) Well, the Wild Boys have been having their problems as of late.
(Tom) I'm just surprised it's taken them so long. They haven't had the greatest record of success...
(JB) Oddly enough, it's not the losses that are affecting them Bear, it's Wilson.
(Tom) Fighting over a Volleyball... it's not like there's a hole cut in it or anything.
(JB) Why would you cut a hole in a volleyball?
(Tom) I... well... I have sex with women.
(JB) Congratulations.
"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, acknowledging 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, and waits for his opponent to come.
(Troy) And their opponents, introducing first, Crazy Boy!
Throw up your rawkfist,
If you're feelin' it when I drop this!
"Rawkfist" by Thousand Foot Krutch hits the PA system before Snake comes out from the back to the delight of the crowd. He's got Wilson under his right arm. Snake starts to make his way down the ramp and when the first verse comes to an end, Snake sets Wilson on the ground and throws his hands up above his head allowing two large green fireworks to go off behind him. Snake then picks up Wilson and makes his way to the ring, high fiving some random fans before climbing into the ring.
(Troy) And his partner, being accompanied by Wilson, Snake!
(JB) And let’s hope that the Wildboys can get their act together and actually can show some signs of teamwork this go around.
(Tom) Yeah, well if we’re lucky maybe Crazy Boy will leave Snake out to dry again and Heatwave and Jimmy Riley will do us all a favor and wipe the floor with him.
(JB) Please, tell us how you really feel.
What's beef? Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep
Beef is when your moms ain't safe up in the streets
Beef is when I see you
Guaranteed to be in ICU, one more time
What's beef? Beef is when you make your enemies start your Jeep
Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep
Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU, check it
“What’s Beef?” by the Notorious B.I.G. blares through the PA system as Heatwave ad Jimmy Riley burst through the velvet curtain to a chorus of cheers. The two men stand on the stage as the walk to opposite sides, throwing their fists into the air. The music continues to blast as the two men make their way towards the ring.
(Troy) And making their way to the ring, weighing in at a combined weight of 613 pounds, they are the team of Heatwave and Jimmy Riley!
Jimmy riley slides underneath the bottom rope as Heatwave climbs the steel steps into the ring. Both men climb a turnbuckle and raise their fists in the air once again as a wave of flash bulbs cover the ring. Both men climb down as the two teams gather in their corner. The music slowly fades out as the referee calls for the bell.
(JB) And here we go!
Jimmy Riley and Snake start off the match up as they hook up with a collar bone tie up. Riley overpowers the smaller Snake into a corner as the referee breaks them up. Jimmy Riley backs up with his hands in the air as Snake pushes pasted the referee and thumbs Jimmy right into the eye. Riley instantly backs up as he covers his eyes. Snake instantly jumps onto the offensive as he clubs the back of Riley with forearms, dropping Riley to the ground. Snake grabs Jimmy’s hair picking him up to his feet and whips him into the ropes. Bouncing off the ropes, Jimmy runs towards Snake, who telegraphs a backdrop allowing Riley to get the jump and slam Snake to the canvas with a swinging neckbreaker.
(JB) And with that Jimmy swings the momentum back!
(Tom) Momentum…is all about momentum.
Jimmy climbs to his feet quickly as lifts Snake to his feet and delivers a few forearms to face of Snake, backing him up against the ropes. Riley quickly hurls Snake into the opposite ropes and catches Snake with a massive spinebuster on the rebound. The crowd approves with cheers as Jimmy instantly jumps to his feet and keeps the heat on Snake and takes advantage of the fallen man by dropping his leg across the neck of Snake. Jimmy climbs to his feet and makes his way to his corner, tagging in Heatwave who smiles to himself as he climbs into the ring.
(Tom) Oh now this is going to be fun right here…the big man about to do big things.
Heatwave strolls over to the ring as Snake is slowly able to crawl to his corner and tag in Crazy Boy, who jumps into the ring and races towards the bigger Heatwave, who instantly catches him and hurls him across the ring with a hip toss. Crazy Boy bounces across the canvas but is quick to his feet and charges again nailing Heatwave in the chest with a clothesline, staggering Heatwave back a few feet. He continues to onslaught delivering another clothesline to Heatwave, this time taking the Miami-native off of his feet.
(JB) And Crazy Boy seems to be getting the best of Heatwave here.
(Tom) Yeah, well it’s early so just give him time!
Crazy Boy grabs Heatwave and after a few shots to the head, he hurls Heatwave into the ropes but with a well time reversal, Heatwave sends Crazy Boy into the ropes and follows up with a clothesline of his own, doubling Crazy Boy over the top rope and out of the ring. Crazy Boy is quick to his feet, before Jimmy Riley seems to come from mid-air as he catches Crazy Boy with a cross-body block from the ring apron. The fans in the front row stand to their feet and cheer as Jimmy rises to his feet. The referee starts his mandatory ten count as Snake jumps into the ring, hoping to catch one-up on Heatwave, he attempts to catch the big man off guard with a forearm to the back to no avail. Heatwave turns around and simply shakes his head as he grabs Snake by the head and with a head start hurls Snake out of the ring. Jimmy rolls Crazy back into the ring. Inside of the ring, Jimmy stomps away at the mid-section of Crazy Boy.
(JB) This match is about to get really out of control unless the referee does something fast.
On the outside of the ring, Snake grabs Wilson and begins to walk up the ramp to his back, occassionally looking back at the beating Crazy Boy is receiving.
(Tom) Look at Snake, making the right call and walking out of a losing cause!
(JB) Crazy Boy is not going to be well after this.
Heatwave sneaks back into the ring behind an unsuspecting Crazy Boy. Crazy Boy slowly turns around as Heatwave sets himself up and delivers a Super Kick right to the jaw of Crazy Boy spinning him around into the clutches of a waiting Jimmy Riley who lifts Crazy Boy off his feet and slams him down hard with the Until the End backdrop. As Crazy drops to the mat, Riley rolls out of the ring, Heatwave easily climbs over for the pin.
One.
Two.
Three.
The referee calls for the bell as Heatwave rises to feet as Jimmy climbs back into the ring. The referee grabs both men’s wrist and raises it high into the air.
(Troy) And your winners, Heatwave and Jimmy Riley!
(JB) Another tough loss for the Wild Boys!
(Tom) Tough. Right.
Commercial
From Illtown With Love
We cut to the back to see Vanessa in a dressing room, quickly trying to get her things together to make a rather hasty departure. She's interrupted by a knock on the door, which causes her to rush towards the thing with a small tazer in her hand. Why the tazer? Well, when your ex is running about looking to maim you, it never hurts to be prepared. In any event, she opens it and finds nothing, only a box as she peeks her head outside looking both ways to see who left the thing and if there are any Reaper sightings. However, the fans react as behind her, unbeknowst to her at present moment is a very suspicious looking individual with a very big stick wrapped in barb wire. She grabs the box and starts to retreat back inside, only she's stopped by Rick Priestly.
(Rick) Vanessa, I need to get your thoughts on...
(Chamberlain) On what? What I thought about The Reaper's vague threats? I'm not worried.
(Rick) But he seemed...
(Chamberlain) Let me tell you something about The Reaper...he's all talk. All he has been, all he ever will be. Fact of the matter is, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve and at Last Rites, I assure you that win, lose or draw...The Reaper's going to be in for a very rude awakening. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to open this.
(Rick) But what about what Aarons...
The door is slammed in his face as Chamberlain opens the box. There's a video tape inside with a little yellow sticky on it which reads "Play Me" in red ink. She very cautiously pops the tape in, as a test sequence counts down before we get a visual. As luck would have it, there's a very familiar setting to this little tape as it's from the very same graveyard that Aarons cut his promo from earlier in the week. He is in all black, holding a shovel in his hand as he puts the shovel into the dirt. Without turning towards the camera, he speaks.
(The Reaper) I'm going to assume that you've gotten this, so let me be brief. You came back hoping to get me to return to something that quite simply put, I've had no interest in going back to. Being someone I no longer have it in me to be anymore. To do this, you went out and got of all people, Dwayne Bishop to try and bring this out of me. And knowing you the way I do, you've probably got someone on standby in the distinct likelihood that Bishop fails and fail miserably he shall, to do the job. So that of course brings me to why I'm here. You see, in a few moments, I'm going to begin cutting my promo for the utter beating I'm going to give Charles Johnson so that the world can see how far you've pushed me. So that the world can see exactly what they've got to look forward to in the weeks to come.
He pauses briefly, shoveling another clump of dirt over his shoulder as the feed starts to fizzle out a bit. As she's watching this, Aarons is quietly creeping up behind her.
(The Reaper) I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised that you've taken it as far as you have. Sacrificing a Bishop to try and get your King back...very calculating. But I feel obligated to let you know that the times have changed. What I'm bringing to Last Rites is going to be something far more gruesome than anything, you or any other person has or ever will see. What I'm going to unleash upon Bishop will be something beyond fierce, beyond devastating. What I'm brining to Last Rites will be one of my finest masterpieces to date and what's more, he has YOU...to thank for it. The NAFW will have you to thank, for what's about to be unleashed upon it. I just felt obligated before this all reaches its particular end game to thank you, for waking me up. Thank you for making me realize what was missing and what I must do in order to gain that which I truly desire. But sadly for you my dear, when I told Bishop that he would feel my wrath...
It's here that she can feel it's too late. Aarons is only a few feet away from her and by the time she tries to react, she's already grabbed and run headfirst into the television screen. The monitor shatters on impact as Aarons pulls her out, the glass shards cutting her face beyond all recognition, a few of them even stuck in her face. He pulls her out and looks at her, plucking the shards out from her as he has a very distant look on his face. In a way, he almost looks emotionally void as he stares into the cut up face of his former flame.
(The Reaper) As I was saying...when I told Bishop that he was going to feel my wrath...
He boots her in the gut and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a fist full of something which as he opens it is revealed to be thumbtacks. He stuffs her head between his legs and hooks both arms, before jumping up and planting her face first into the tacks. He turns her over, revealing her ied face for all to see as he turns her over and simply glares at her on his knees, smirking rather sadistically. He slides out and lies on his stomach just barely above her bloody face as he whispers very audibly...
(The Reaper) You weren't excluded from that, dummy. And when you get to the hospital and your boy Bishop gets there asking you what happened, tell em' that Illtown's back and he's gonna join you REAL SOON.
Aarons pushes up and gets to his feet, as the camera finally gets to see what he's wearing. He's got on a black Illtown Rules throwover with two sickles under a Lion's head that's straight clad in iron. You can see the blood seeping over it as the word 'Rules' is carved in red as the blood drips from both sickles. He's in an all black outfit as he heads out of the dressing room. He opens the door and is immediately hit with something, dropping him almost instanteously. Just as the camera tries to get the identity of who it is, the same something hits the cameraman dropping him and the camera as well. All the camera can pick up is a pair of boots going over towards the bloodied Vanessa and hoisting her up almost effortlessly, walking out of the room rather quickly. A voice can be heard telling the fallen Aarons in no uncertain terms...
(???) See ya Sunday, Illtown.
He walks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him as Aarons tries and fails to get to his feet as we go back out to the arena.
(JB) Who was that?
(Tom) Oh. Come. On.
Overlooked Once Again
The crowd is pumped during yet another action packed edition of NAFW Annihilation, cheering and mugging for the cameras with signs when the opening riffs of "Die Dead Enough" by: Megadeth suddenly pumps over the loudspeakers, accompanied by a graphic in the lower righthand corner of the screen reading: "Die Dead Enough" from the Megadeth album The System Has Failed, available in stores now!
The first verse kicks in as Michael Castleberry steps out from backstage, an angry scowl crossing his face. He stands in street clothes, a tucked in white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. His long hair pulled into a tight ponytail. He pauses for a moment on the stage, looking over the crowd, who break out in what is an even mixture of boos and cheers.
(JB) Well, I sure didn't expect Castleberry to be here tonight, he's not even on the card!
(Tom) Well, I didn't expect him to be back at all, he's not good either JB!
(JB) Oh, cut it out Bear, the man IS a former European and United States champion, say what you want about the man, but he's proven himself before in this company.
(Tom) Well, I refuse to cheer for Dingleberry here, no matter what you say.
During the discussion between Tom and JB, Castleberry has already began his walk towards the ring, he doesn't stop to acknowledge the fans at all, walking at a hurried, determined pace, stopping only to grab a microphone from a ring attendent, before stepping through the middle rope, and standing in the center of the ring
(MC) Alright, cut my damn music!
Within seconds, the song cuts out, as the crowd already begins to quiet down, he stands, the microphone raised to his mouth, his tone quieting down
(MC) Just the other day, after this past Annhilation, I decided to look over the upcoming card, and saw this...
He goes to his back pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, and opens it up, looking down to read it
(MC) Let's see here.... we got Leonard Owens vs Charles Johnson, The Wild Boys vs Heatwave and Jimmy Riley, Mike Stryker vs Hush, Ainsley Lake vs Fox Strife...
(Tom) Jeez, apparantly he figures no one knows any of the matches tonight, get to the point!
(MC) ... and to top it all off, a six man tag match between Keith Owens, Trevor Cunning and Ron Barker against Diamond Del Carver, Mike Lane and Spaz.
The crowd begins to cheer loudly for the participants of the main event match
(MC) I know, I know... we got a pretty solid card tonight, but something seem to be missing...
He walks over to the ropes, leaning foreward on them for a moment, his free hand tapping his own chest
(MC) ME!! I finally get back into ring shape, when no one gave me a chance in hell, and what happens? I'm sitting on the damn bench already! You'd think someone upstairs would have the brains to put an established NAFW wrestler, and two time former title holder on the card right away. But nooooo... apparantly people would rather watch some chick come out here and get smacked around badly by a guy again. That's some sports entertainment there, I tell ya what, I bet it'll be a slobber knocker even. Look, I don't wanna downplay Miss Lake's talent, but c'mon sister, you had to have the champ bail your ass out of a no hold's barred match! So, as a reward for getting owned, you get another match this week while I rot, that seems logical.
The crowd begins to boo as Castleberry rips Lake
(JB) I dunno if I agree with Castleberry here Bear, Ainlsey Lake is a damn talented gal, and was in danger of getting brass knuckles to the head, Carver was right in saving her, you just don't do that to a lady!
(Tom) I'm amazed, but I'm gonna have to side with Castlberry here, if you wanna step into the ring, you gotta be able to deal with what happens, and if you don't wanna catch brass knuckles to the head, don't fight in a NO HOLDS BARRED match!!
(JB) I still say it isn't right Bear
(MC) So, since apparantly the brass around here doesn't want to give me a chance, I'm going to make my own, so, right here, right now, I'm laying down a challenge. Next Annihilation, I challenge any person, man or woman in that locker room to face me, one on one, in the middle of this ring. A straight up wrestling match, no weapons, no outside interference. Two enter, one leaves with their hand raised. It's that simple. I don't wanna sit on the sidelines, and I'm sure someone here would love the chance at taking out an original NAFW member, so folks, here's your chance, take it or leave it. You all in the back have your challenge, so, work it out amongst yourselves which lamb get's led to the slaughter, because this time, at the next Annihilation, the first of many will take their last breath.
Castleberry tosses the mic down to the mat with a thud, and steps out of the ring as his music hits once again. Without any bravado or fanfare, he quietely walks back to the locker room, the fans cheering again at the challenge he laid out
(JB) Well, there you have it Bear, Castleberry has laid out an open challenge to the entire NAFW locker room, he seems pretty determined to make a name for himself again, I've gotta admit, I haven't seen him this focused since he was a young rookie.
(Tom) You're right Mann-Town, I might have to start giving ol' Creeping Death his due, he's laid it all out there, someone backstage just needs to pick up the punk card he just tossed down, or else the entire company looks bad. He might just be smarter then I gave him credit for!
(JB) You got that right Bear, Annihilation has just heated up even more with a challenge like that, I can't wait to see who answers it! We've got to cut to a commercial folks, don't change the station, business is picking up tonight!
Commercial
Andy D vs. Jester Smiles
The Arena lights go down as 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.
(Tom) You know what's weird about Andy D, JB?
(JB) What's that, Bear?
(Tom) His official THENAFW.COM profile lists him as being born "somewhere in the UK."
(JB) How's that weird…? Thousands of people are born "somewhere in the UK" every year.
(Tom) Yes, but don't you find it the least bit… Suspicious? Like, a man dressed as a rose bush creeping around your back yard on a hazy Sunday morning, doing cat-calls suspicious.
(JB) I think you better start taking your meds again.
(Tom) Meds my rosy red posterior! This guy's got something to hide!
As the "Entry of the Gladiators" kicks up, 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.
(JB) I bet you think Eric Smiles has something to hide, too, don't you…?
(Tom) I sure do, JB, but G.L.A.D. would sue me the second I said something.
(JB) Tom Kalhoun…!
(Tom) What? You make an insinuation that someone's got a hot, lesbian mom and suddenly you're the bad guy!
Upon reaching the the apron, Jester 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.
(JB) This is a must-win situation for both men here tonight, fans. Andy D's going on a long drought and Jester Smiles has yet to find water here in the NAFW… So you know this one's gonna be one for the ages, and nobody's gonna leave anything in the ring that they'll regret leaving later!
The bell sounds. Eric Smiles is immediately on his game, regaling his opponent with a flurry of right hands that have Andy off-balance and heading back into the ropes. Whipping his foe to the far side, Jester is quite surprised when the high-flying OSW-alumni takes advantage of a telegraphed Back Body Drop and swings him down to the mat with a Neckbreaker. Both men up quickly, Andy D presses his advantage with a series of toe kicks followed by an impressive Side Russian Legsweep. Quick cover by Andy D results in a two, but Smiles gets a shoulder up and the two separate, circling one another like birds of prey.
(JB) Collar and Elbow Tie-Up now… And Andy D is down on a knee, pushing as hard as he can against a man almost fifty pounds heavier than he is, but to no avail! Jester Smiles has that deadly Side Headlock cinched in, and the ropes are nowhere to be found!
(Tom) That's the most dangerous move in sports entertainment, JB!
(JB) Many a great competitor has been felled by the Headlock, that's for sure. I know I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of one!
Uh, yeah. Anyway, Andy D's fighting for his life, struggling to reach the safety of a rope break but his opponent refuses to give ground. Knowing that this situation might call for a different sort of tactic, Andy D starts pounding elbows into Jester's mid-section, slowly but surely breaking the hold. Once he's free (and Smiles is still stunned), Andy takes a bounce and comes rocketing back at the Virginia native with a beautiful Swinging DDT. Jester's head gets driven stiffly into the canvas and, for a moment, it appears as though he might have been seriously injured.
(JB) Inside Cradle! One… Two… Almost a three! Jester Smiles was playing opossum! He lured Andy D in with the promise of an easy pin and trapped him with a beautiful Inside Cradle! I thought for sure he had him there!
Both gladiators are back up and at one another quickly, trading open handed chest slaps like they were going out of style, rocking one another back and forth. Again with his tremendous size advantage, Smiles gets the better of his speedier foe and backs Andy D up into a corner.
(JB) Andy D in No Man's Land now as Jester Smiles is just knocking the taste out of his mouth with unrelenting right hands! You can see how badly Smiles wants to win this… And he just might! But Andy D's not going down without a fight, and he's battling back! He's blocking Jester's blows and firing off some of his own!
Working slowly out of the corner, Andy D appears as though he might be stemming the tide… Until Eric Smiles drops a shoulder and rams him back into the turnbuckle, winding him. Smiles, not one to pass up an opening, Wihps Andy D over to the adjacent corner and follows him in with a Strong Clothesline. Andy D's feet fly up in the air as if he'd just been hit by a speeding train, but before he can rally he finds himself being flung across the ring yet again. Really working the posts, Jester Smiles charges after Andy D and plows him over with a second Clothesline before grabbing his foe by the scruff of the neck and tossing him out into the middle.
(JB) Amazing string of offense here by Jester Smiles, and it looks like he's really got Andy D reeling! So far in this match-up, the big man's managed to ground his much smaller opponent and you've got to give Andy credit for holding his own! It's not every day you can stand up to a beating by a guy Jester's size and live to tell the tale!
(Tom) It's not over yet, JB! He may not live at all!
Jester bends down and takes a hold of Andy's legs, fully intent on wrapping them up and ending this thing in his trademark Black Mardi Gras Cloverleaf. Andy D, on the other hand, has other ideas and wriggles free from Jester's grip, sending the heel of his boot like a wrecking ball into Smiles' nose. Jumping back and holding his face, Eric's hands come away covered in blood, a horrified expression creeping in over his features. Andy D appears somewhat phased, as well, surprised at the hardaway juice but nevertheless managing to crab crawl across the ring, putting space between him and the now fuming Smiles.
(JB) This thing's just gotten personal, ladies and gentlemen!
(Tom) Nobody makes Jester Smiles bleed his own blood!
Smiles rumbles over to Andy D and yanks him up off the canvas, throwing a hard European Uppercut to break the ice. And then a hard, Knife-Edge Chop. And then another. Building on his sudden rage, Jester throws Andy D into the ropes and prepares to knock him down with Clothesline… But Andy D ducks under and continues on to the next rope, bouncing back out and under a second Clothesline attempt. Third bounce by Andy D and…
(JB) The Dragon's Bite--the patented Shining Wizard variant by Andy D! He drops to a cover and one… Two… Three! Three! Andy D has done it! David has felled Goliath! The seemingly impossible has happened and Andy D has picked up a much-needed win! What a match! What a contest! This thing could have gone either way but Andy D holds on to win it!
Smiles, still bleeding and obviously perturbed by this turn of events, rolls out of the ring and shrugs off a medic wanting to look in about his nose. Andy D meanwhile celebrates in a big way, making the rounds from one turnbuckle to the next and throwing his fists into the air for everybody to cheer. It's a big moment for him, and he's more than happy to absorb the crowd's enthusiasm. The last thing we see before heading to the back, though, is Jester Smiles looking back at Andy D over his shoulder and frowning before finally disappearing behind the curtain.
Step One: Complete
Backstage, in one of the many hallways that wind and weave their way through the Conseco Fieldhouse, Jimmy Riley is dressed for success. His entirely black suit is offset by the solid blue tie that hangs from his neck. He's checking his watch just as his partner walks up.
(Riley) Ah, it's going to be a good time tonight! Time to celebrate, Nic!
Heatwave can do nothing but chuckle and nod in agreement.
(Heatwave) You said it would be easy...you weren't kidding! We took care of those chumps like it was a piece of cake!
(Riley) Well, sure it helped that they're not exactly the happiest couple in the world. I tell ya, they argue more than Ainsley Lake and her gy-
Riley stops himself, though a motion from Heatwave could have also told the story there.
(Riley) Right, right...shouldn't have said that one. Regardless, this was an easy win, and the rest of the NAFW tag team division better take notice; Heatwave and Jimmy Riley are going to roll over anyone who gets in our way!
(Heatwave) You got that, man. Doesn't matter if it's any two schlubs they throw in front of us, or even an established team like the Old School Empire, or even the Trust Fund Kids-
The smile on Riley's face is evident the second those words escape his partner's mouth, and he interrupts him.
(Riley) Ah yes, because nothing says winner like a guy who...well...I guess he doesn't win, now does he? Owens and Cunning think they're the cream of the tag team crop, but they haven't exactly met a team like us, now have they? Both of 'em, they're too preoccupied with singles gold, and what's going to happen? One day, very soon, they're going to have to step in the ring with us. And I know they're going to underestimate us, because hey, that's what stupid people are known to do. No matter, though.
Jimmy looks back at Heatwave, and almost catches him yawning from the speech he's been giving, but just misses it. Heatwave picks right up where Riley left off, though.
(Heatwave) Because we're not just some guys that got pulled off the street. We're finely tuned athletes who worked from the bottom of this business to where we're at right now, and we don't intimidate easily. When the time comes, we'll win, because it's what...we..do. Now then, we have some clubs to hit. Let's go, Jimmy.
Jimmy Riley grins as the two walk off, heading out for a celebratory night on the town.
Smear Campaign: Ron Barker
We fade from the standard black screen to a color photograph of a burning building. As firefighters struggle to extinguish the raging inferno, the central focus of the image becomes clear. We see Trevor Cunning, running out of the building, carrying seven babies. The babies are all in swaddling clothes patterned after the American Flag. A large sheepdog runs behind Cunning, carrying a basket in his mouth with another baby in the basket. Cunning has a rope in his teeth, pulling a wagon that has even more babies inside.
Nuns are running towards Cunning, tears of joy and admiration on their faces for this saint who saved the infant crack addicted, AIDS babies with leprosy orphanage.
This image fades to one of Ron Barker
Ravishing Ron Barker
We see a series of photos of Barker in the various stages of his career, each one showing his rapidly advancing age and physical deterioration. Granted, the photos chosen aren’t the most flattering, as they typically tend to come after the result of a long match, and Barker tends to be covered in blood, but the implications are there.
Ron Barker may have traveled the world, competing alongside Diamond Del Carver in various inferior wrestling federations.
The names and logos of various feds, like OPW and the Shoot Project are displayed on the screen, before falling comically with a wacky sound effect into an animated trash can. Someone really likes iMovie.
Why then, did Ron Barker never step into the ring with Diamond Del Carver until these two schmucks began working for the North American Foundation of Wrestling?
We pan down into the trash can, arriving at Ultimate Showdown just in time to see Diamond Del Carver defeat Ron Barker to advance in the tournament.
The answer is simple. Ron Barker is a pussy.
Do you want a pussy as your next Foundation Heavyweight Champion?
Trevor Cunning doesn’t.
We see a grainy, black and white photograph of a man who appears to be Ron Barker, if you squint your eyes really, really tightly and look at him at a 45 degree angle… in a random dive bar. Truth be told, there’s no way to tell who the hell this guy really is. He holds in his hands a large, strawberry daiquiri.
Ron Barker would lead you to believe that this daiquiri… this bright pink daiquiri with a fruity little umbrella is for a female companion. The truth is, not only did Ron Barker consume this entire beverage himself, but proceeded to order a sex on the beach shortly thereafter.
Do you want a Foundation Heavyweight Champion who drinks girly drinks?
Trevor Cunning doesn't.
The next photograph is of Ron Barker’s gym bag. We know it’s Barker’s gym bag because a pair of his tights sit on top of the bag. Next to the tights is a series of ticket stubs for “The Holiday” and “The Devil Wears Prada” and a copy of “the Notebook” on DVD.
Ron Barker would like you to believe that these items were not found in his gym bag… that he isn’t a total man-gina. Truth be told, Ron Barker not only goes to chick flicks by himself, but he also cries like a little girl.
Do you want a crybaby as your next Foundation Heavyweight Champion?
Do you want to see your Foundation Heavyweight Champion holding hands with a fat woman in a movie theater, wiping his eyes with a snotty tissue as they share an overpriced box of Raisinetts?
Trevor Cunning doesn’t.
The next still photograph is of a production intern, wearing an NAFW t-shirt. He’s holding his hands out in front of his face, as if he doesn’t want to be photographed.
According to this particular production intern, he once saw Ron Barker sitting backstage, reading a fashion and design magazine. The odd thing is, Barker wasn’t simply flipping through to look at the pictures of half-naked celebrities. No, Barker was reading the articles! What’s even worse is Ron Barker was using post-it notes to mark pages so he could use the interior design ideas in his own home!
Do you want a “man” like this as your Foundation Heavyweight Champion?
Trevor Cunning doesn’t.
We see a photograph of Trevor Cunning in a flannel shirt, work boots and ripped jeans, wiping the grease from his face in front of a monster truck. The hood is popped open, implying that Trevor was repairing the truck. To the left is a pile of logs with a giant axe sticking out and to the right is a keg of beer.
FACT: Trevor Cunning is a big, burly man. In fact, an online petition exists to have Trevor Cunning’s picture replace the dude with the mullet on the Brawny Paper Towel rolls.
We next see a pile of DVDs sitting beside Cunning’s gym bag… a set of the typical, misogynistic action flicks like Die Hard, Rambo and Rocky.
FACT: Trevor Cunning only goes to movies that have both boobs and explosions.
The final static image is of Cunning holding a men’s magazine up in the air as he examines the centerfold. The magazine is blurred… and is probably hardcore pornography"
FACT: Trevor Cunning doesn’t read articles. He just likes looking at naked women.
- Orders Chick Drinks.
- Cries. Often. Just Because He’s Having a Rough Day, You Know?
- Enjoys Interior Design.
- Can’t Beat Diamond Del Carver.
- A Giant Pussy.
Trevor Cunning
- Follows All Applicable Man Laws.
- Believes Feelings Are Something to Be Ignored.
- Drinks Nothing But Beer and Whisky.
- Only Looks at the Pictures of Half-Naked Women.
- A Real Man’s Man.
- Your next Foundation Heavyweight Champion!
Trevor walks onto the screen, wearing a blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and red tie. Behind him is the American Flag.
"I'm Trevor Cunning, and I approve this message"
Fade to black.
(Tom) Oh, it's on now.
(JB) What is Trevor doing?
(Tom) I'm worried Mann-Chowder, seriously worried about the good guys.
Commercial
Hush vs. Mike Stryker (AC)
Non-Title
A clusterfuck of drum and bass Begin to thunder and all of the lights in the arena mysteriously tint to a sickly shade of gray, as Trent Reznor's voice pierces through the boos and jeers from the crowd, reciting the lyrics to his song "The Line Begins to Blur”.
A video trailer featuring a mammoth-sized individual sporting a leather trenchcoat rolls on the ol' NAFWTron, as the lights outlining the screen begin flashing blindingly white lights.
The 6-foot-eleven-inch monstrosity with but one name, Hush, stepped out and through the NAFW curtains, basically blowing them backwards with his imposing size as he makes his way to the top of the entry ramp. Hush is not alone., as he accompanied by Aliester Essex. Hush, masked, dressed in black wrestling tights, a black tank-top, and a leather trenchcoat, pauses with his manager at the top of the ramp, met with the reaction of the crowd.
(Troy) Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, coming down the aisle, accompanied by his manager Aliester Essex, from New York NY, syanding 6 feet, 11 inches, weighing 326 pounds, this is……HUSH!!!
The house lights go down as "Til I Collapse" by Eminem begins to play through the arena. As the song goes through it's dark intro, various scenes from NYC come across the NAFWTron.
YO LEFT, YO LEFT, YO LEFT RIGHT LEFT!!
As the line repeats and the dialouge of the song starts in the background, the scene changes to a simple panoramic of the NYC Skyline. When the drums kick in, lightning fills the sky with each beat, and through the cloud cover, the word "STRYKER" can be made out with each bolt of lightning.
When the song finally kicks in, The house lights come up, with a bright white light punctuating each clap in the songs beat. Mike Stryker comes out in his black sweatshirt, hood up, hair hanging down in front of his face. He marches out, and as the crowd gives a roar of approval, he raises the Atlantic Title over his head. He gives the crowd a quick look before he begins marching himself to the ring, oblivious to the cheers.
Stryker Rolls under the bottom rope and gets up on the opposite turnbuckles, again raising his belt as the crowd roars once more. He crosses the ring and repeats the action to another cheer. He dismounts fom the buckles and pulls off his sweatshirt, tossing it aside and pacing the ring, waiting for the match to begin.
(JB) Stryker has been the picture of consistency in the NAFW. Since June of 2005, there has not been a show that the NAFW has aired where Mike Stryker didn’t hold a championship. He’s been gaining momentum since we re-opened, and has been looking for a fight.
(Tom) He found one that he’s going to regret, mark my words.
The bell rings and Hush remains in his corner, Essex on the apron, instructing his charge. Stryker is bouncing in his corner, waiting for Hush to make the first move. Hush turns his back to look at Essex, but in a flash he turns and charges at Stryker, who sidesteps the monster and meets him in the corner, throwing right hands into his face.
(JB) We’re off quick!!
Stryker goes with some kicks to the gut, not letting up for a second on Hush, who hasn’t been able to get his bearings. Stryker takes a couple steps out from the corner, and as Hush takes a step, he elevates and connects with a big dropkick, driving the big man back into the corner. He gets up as Hush stumbles and connects with another dropkick, this time to the knee. Hush drops down to a knee in pain as Stryker is on him again like a flash, measuting punch after punch down into the fallen man’s jaw.
(JB) Essex looks like he doesn’t know what to make of this
(Tom) Stryker’s at least being smart, not letting up, keeping Hush off balance.
Stryker hits Hush a couple times and then sprints across the ring, looking to come back hard. As he comes back, we never know what he was looking to do because Hush springs up and charges, nearly decapitating Stryker with a boot to the face.
(Tom) THAT’LL learn ya.
Stryker hits the canvas holding his face as Hush rests against the ropes, gathering himself. Hush takes a few seconds then heads across the ring to go after Stryker, He stomps his back a couple of times before picking him up and tossing him into the corner. Hush follows up with a couple stiff knees to the stomach and an elbow to the face before whipping Stryker across hard enough to move the ring, soliciting a groan from the crowd and Stryker to hit the canvas hard face first. Hush is much more motivated in his pursuit as he comes after Stryker, who’s made it to a knee. As Stryker comes up, Hush clubs him in the back, sending him back down. Hush lifts Stryker up and hits him again, dropping him to the mat. He holds up his arms to a round of boos as Stryker stays on the mat. Essex applauds as Hush leans down to pick up Stryker. Stryker pops off the canvas and tosses Hush’s hands away, firing off a few rights hands. He gets the big man to stagger back and he turns, scaling the buckles quickly. Hush gets to him in time and clubs him hard in the lower back, Slowing Stryker down. Hush climbs up behind him, setting up for a belly to back superplex.
(Tom) Oh Stryker’s in trouble!
Stryker catches Hush off guard with a quick elbow to the jaw. He repeats it a couple more times, eventually knocking Hush off the ropes and to his back. He scales to the top rope as the crowd begins to buzz.
(JB) What’s he doing up there?
The “he” in question is Aleister Essex, who is on the apron, giving Stryker an earful from the apron. Stryker gives him a look and says something quickly, but Essex does his job as Hush is back up. Hush walks under Stryker and carries him off the ropes on his shoulders, dropping him in the electric chair. Stryker screams in pain as he hits the mat.
(Tom) Essex is the wild card.
(JB) He certainly is.
Hush makes his way up and lumbers over to Stryker, peeling him off of the canvas and delivering a hard right, stumbling Stryker back into the corner. He follows him in and Whips him hard across the ring. Stryker hits, and Hush waits a second before gettinga full head of steam, diving for an avalance.
(JB) Nobody Home!!!
Stryker dodges out of the way and slips behind Hush, grabbing a waistlock…
(Tom) No way.
Stryker lets out a scream and heaves back, tossing the 326 lb behemoth back with a german suplex as the crowd goes absolutely ballistic.
(JB) HE GOT HIM OVER!!!
Stryker rolls up to his knees and pulls himself up with the ropes. His eyes are clear as Hush begins to stagger up. As Hush gets to one knee Stryker comes through and levels him with a clothesline, dropping him down again. He mounts Hush and starts peppering in the right hands as the crowd eats up the energy. Stryker gets up and climbs the ropes quickly, coming off the top rope and connecting with a picture perfect elbowdrop to the monster.
(JB) Best in the business on that elbow.
Stryker gets up and looks at the crowd, who react in kind as he goes for Hush’s legs, tying them up. As he tries to turn him, Essex once again gets on the apron to a chorus of boos. Stryker gives up on the hold, dropping Hush’s legs and going for Essex once again. The crowd cheers as Stryker gets his hands on the managers collar, but gasps as Hush gets back up and grabs Stryker from behind in a cobra clutch, lifting him high and driving him across his knee.
(JB) FREEDOM IS A CHOICE!!
Hush doesn’t lock in the submission like he normally does as Essex yells for him to attack Stryker more. Hush obliges as picks up Stryker and whips him across, catching him for the echoes in eternity…only Stryker saw it coming and flies over the top, hitting Hush with a big DDT. Slow to get up, Stryker and Hush both make it to their feet as Stryker hits the ropes, only Essex is there once again to trip him up.
(JB) COME ON REF!!
Stryker turns and stares down Essex again, who feigns innocence, and as he turns around…
(Tom) KICK TO THE GUT!!!
(JB) HE’S SET HIM UP!!!!
Hush lifts Stryker high and drills him…
(JB) DEAFENING SILENCE!!! THIS IS OVER!!! COVER!!!!
1……………
2………………………
3!!!!!!!!!
(Tom) He’s TOO much!!!
(JB) This was 2 on 1!!!
(Tom) Oh stop whining. Stryker did it to himself.
As the two banter, Essex slides into the ring…with a chair, which he hands to his charge.
(JB) Oh no…
Stryker is sitting up, shaking the cobwebs, and never sees it coming as Hush gets in front and swings for the fences...
*CRACK!!!*
(JB) OH NO!!!!
Stryker goes down like a ton of bricks as blood pours from his head. Hush throws the chair onto the mat and drags Stryker near it. He ties up his legs and turns over so that Stryker’s face is on the chair. Essex puts on a sadistic grin…
(JB) Oh Lord please don’t….
The crowd gasps as Hush elevates Stryker’s head and them stomps it down on the chair with a vicious Curb Stomp.
(Tom) Stryker is OUT!
Indeed Stryker lies face down, blood pooling in the chair, as Hush raises his arms in victory to a chorus of boos. Medical personnel run to the ring and slide to Stryker’s aide as Hush and Essex walk away smiling.
(JB) Folks, we need to take a break as Stryker is attended to. I can’ BELIEVE this.
Cut.
A Wild Implosion
This Portion of the NAFW is opened up with Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith in the ring. He has a microphone in his hand, and is pacing around the ring, staring at the backstage. Crazy Boy growls and has a furious look in his face. All the sudden, he stops dead in his tracks and looks straight at the backstage and prepares to speak.
(CB) You know, all this time you think you know your friends, and they stab you in the back multiple times. Snake, I'm talking to you.
the Crazy One paces back and forth again, like a caged animal. His look gets fiercer and he starts shouting in the microphone.
(CB) I thought last week when you walked out on me, I thought maybe it's just because you were stressed and didn't want to deal with the Old School Empire again. But this week, when you walked out a SECOND time, I knew that something was up. I know you just have something against me, just because I want to succeed. I want this TEAM to succeed, but apparantely you are too busy with your buddy, Wilson. You don't have time for your true friends anymore. So I have just one thing to say to you, Snake.
Tyrone stops dead in his tracks as the crowd quiets down. He looks dead in the backstage as he shakes his head slowly, his eyes filled with anger.
(CB) I guess you have a decision to make, Snake. It's either going to have to be Wilson....
or me....
The crowd grows eerily quiet as CB taps his foot impatiently, looking at the backstage.
(CB) I don't have all day Snake. I want you to come out here and tell me your answer.
The crowd hushes, waiting for an answer as CB waits for Snake. As the impatience grows larger, all the sudden, in a flash, something hits CB in the head. As he looks down, he glares angrily at what he sees....
It is Wilson.
Crazy boy sighs and starts to look around for Snake. Pacing around the ring, he looks around everywhere, trying to find his partner.
(CB) So that's how you want to play it, eh Snake? You want to play games with me? Come out here and face me like a man!
At that moment, while CB has his face turned, Snake comes out from the crowd, wielding a steel chair. He sneaks into the ring and is standing right behind Tyrone. All the sudden, the Crazy One turns around and gets nailed by steel from Snake. As Crazy boy crumples to the ground, the chorus of boos start to radiate from the crowd as Snake grabs the mic from Tyrone's prone body.
(Snake) In all honesty, Tyrone. It wasn't that hard of a decision. You became so obsessed with gold and your own self and left me out in the cold. I wanted to show you what it was like to leave me out in the cold by making you suffer and leave you alone in the matches.
Snake hits CB with the chair again as he continues to speak.
(Snake) All you cared about was yourself. You just wanted to gain tag team gold, refusing the fact that me and Wilson needed help. You never really cared about me Tyrone, and now.. I'm doing something about it.
Another chair shot by Snake has CB nearly unconscious on the ground.
(Snake) And I'm going to finish it. You want to care about your own self? Let's see how you do it in the ring against ME at Last Rites. That's right Tyrone. Consider our friendship over, the Wild Boys are DONE! Which means one thing also...
Snake pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and opens it up and shows it to everyone. the boos grow louder as everyone sees what it is...
It is the wish that the Wild boys won at the last Three Wishes match.
(Snake) There is no reason for both of us to hold on to this anymore. So I have a proposition for you, Tyrone. Why not we see who gets the right of the wish? Why don't we make our match at Last Rites a ladder match, winner gets the wish.
Snake puts the wish in his pocket and grabs the steel chair one last time.
(Snake) See you in the ring, Tyrone. Your last rites have been signed.
One last chair shot by Snake leaves Tyrone in a pool of his own blood. Snake looks back at the carnage as he climbs out of the ring, a chorus of boos echoing in the arena. Medical staff comes and starts to head for the ring to check up on crazy Boy as the show fades to black.
Shillmania, how the old timers do it
We cut to a backstage shot... of Mike Lane talking on a cell phone? Indeed folks, we see the former Foundation Champion pacing in the hallway, deep in conversation. The camera pans around though, to where we can see NAFW Interviewer Amie Carmichael standing with an official microphone. On the other side of her is Spaz, who is regarding his partner with a raised eyebrow.
(Amie) Ladies and gentlemen, I have here with me, two of the five men on the Vote or Die ballot. They are both former Foundation Heavyweight Champions, and have main evented cards all around the world. They are currently one of the hottest tandems in the sport. Mike Lane and Spaz!
Spaz clears his throat, and Lane notices that the camera has turned to him, drawing a quick head shake.
(Lane) I gotta go man, I'll talk to you later.
He closes the small silver phone, and runs his fingers through his hair. He is wearing one of the old school NAFW t-shirts with the throwback blue logo over his black trunks. They both are, to take note.
(Amie) Mike Lane, when the NAFW reopened, a lot of people thought that you would be right in the title hunt, going for the belt that eluded you at Revolution earlier this year. Instead, you ended up in an entertaining duo with Spaz. A lot of people are questioning your motivations, and some people even think that you're preparing for retirement. Any truth to these rumors?
Lane smirks, and sizes up the girl with his eyes before responding, in a cool, mellow tone.
(Lane) It's pretty simple, Amie. Retirement isn't in my near future. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I helped out Spaz when he needed a partner, and we've become an unlikely pairing. I'm having a lot of fun right now, and I don't expect to change that. I got beat in the Ultimate Showdown tournament, and maybe life passed me by. Maybe the level of competition here passed me by, and maybe no amount of retooling my moveset could change the fact that I was outdated. Maybe I needed to just sulk around in the background, and sell a lot of merch in a tag team.
The interviewer nods, accepting Lane's sober answer.
(Amie) Then I hav...
(Spaz) Or not.
She stops speaking, and looks at Spaz with a bit of irritation for interrupting her. Lane pokes his head in, and pulls the microphone to his face, energy flowing from his mouth.
(Lane) Listen up sister, I've been doing a lot of thinking. There's a lot of history burdening me going into Last Rites. Let me give you a little history lesson, since you weren't here back in the old days. Damn near two years ago, Mike Lane pinned the then-Foundation Champion, Simon Synn. Faithless, you might have heard of him. The following week, the NAFW debuted the Vote or Die concept. By virtue of that win, I was placed on the ballot. Myself, Matthew Kurresh, and Jaime Alejandro stood as the three men who had a world of opportunity at their finger tips. The winner of the fan vote would get a shot at the Champ. There was a lot of screwyness during that time, and Arwel Jones ended up taking Synn's place. Intruder won the fan vote, and the title.
He pauses, and lets her take it all in. She looks riveted.
(Lane) At the next pay per view event, Death Wish, I was put into a four way title match with Kurresh, Alejandro, and Jones. I outlasted all three men, and won the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. This, my dear, is my first problem.
(Amie) That you won the title?
Lane sighs, and shakes his head, stirred from the momentum of his thoughts. He looks to Spaz.
(Lane) Can you believe this chick?
(Spaz) Could be worse.
He clears his mind and presses on.
(Lane) No, that I needed help from JaZon King to win the title. Could I have done it on my own? Sure. But I didn't. While I will recognize myself as a Champion, I feel that my reign was sullied by the methods I used to attain it. That brings me to the next tie in to the present day. Last Rites is our next pay per view event, and coincidentally, Last Rites was the event that I lost the Foundation title at. Jaime Alejandro beat me by one submission in an Ultimate Submission match.
(Amie) I don't understand why that would burden you.
He raises an eyebrow.
(Lane) Of course you don't. Last Rites was my chance to prove that I was a real Champion, and I got bested that night. I'm walking into that very same event with the mindset that I must be redeemed. If that fans deem me worthy, then I will walk into Last Rites, and I will take the Championship, and show the world that I really am a worthy Champion, and that I'm not over the hill.
(Amie) Speaking of which, what are your thoughts on the controversy ov...
(Lane) Carver?
She nods.
(Lane) I don't know what the deal with Carver is, to be honest. I got a call last week, and apparently it's all over the sheets that Carver has left the company. Who knows what the deal is? All I know is that I'll lose a little respect for the man if he bails on the promotion that he's supposed to be carrying. He's the Champion, and he walks. Tonight, me and Spaz are going to walk to the ring, and do our thing, and it doesn't matter if we have a third man or not. The two of us on our own are more than enough to take on our opponents.
He has his cocky demeanor back now. Good thing too, because Spaz is sensing his own turn to talk.
(Spaz) Mike and I were sitting in the locker room at the top of the show, and we saw something that confused us. Keith Owens, Trevor Cunning, and Ron Barker were out there saying that they deserve to go at it for the Foundation Championship. Good for them for trying and all that... I give them credit for tenacity... But I don't know what show they've been watching, since I'm pretty sure it was Mike Lane and Spaz that were picked to go for the number one contendership last week. So we're thining, why shouldn't one of us be the one who get this title match at Last Rites?
Lane pats his partner on the shoulder.
(Spaz) So when you sit down to fill out your Vote or Die ballot remember to vote for the nice guy.
Lane points to himself.
(Lane) The experienced guy!
(Spaz) Youth and experience!
(Lane) This old horse can still go.
(Spaz) Key word being old!
They turn to face each other, and both crack smiles.
(Lane) Fans, don't vote for an asshole, vote for Lane!
(Spaz) And if you think Lane is the asshole, then vote Spaz!
Lane shrugs, and agrees with his partner.
(Lane) And if you think that both Spaz and Mike Lane are assholes, then you need to not vote, cause you're an idiot!
Spaz stops, and looks around for a moment.
(Spaz) Ummm... Mike, you know the campaign is called Vote or Die, right?
The Superstar pauses, and then shrugs.
(Lane) Natural selection.
He walks off, chuckling, leaving his partner standing there. Twitch walks into view.
(Twitch) Where did Micky Line go? Twitch wanted him to sign this replica tunic.
Spaz regards the manager.
(Spaz) Have you filled in your Vote or Die ballot yet?
(Twitch) No. Both Pez and Micky are assholes, so Twitch won't vote for them. But Twitch doesn't want to go against his clients, either.
Twitch heads down the hall after Lane, and Spaz watches him leave.
(Spaz) Natural selection, indeed.
Amie clears her throat behind Spaz, and gets the star's attention.
(Amie) Any closing thoughts?
Shaking his head, Spaz looks around.
(Spaz) Got anything for a headache?
Cut.
Ainsley Lake vs. Fox Strife
(JB) Big things are happening here in the new NAFW, fans, and the following match is no exception! We've got two young talents chomping at the bit to make an impression here tonight, and either one of these two competitors could be the breakout star of 2007! You know Ray Buchanan's watching this one closely… And so am I!
"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 jog 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.
{Tom) Come on, JB! You're always calling someone the Next Big Thing… You know the last time you were right?
(JB) I don't see where you're going with this, Kalhoun...
(Tom) Exactly! You can't remember because it's never happened!
(JB) I never said I…
(Tom) Don't try to deny it, Mannwagon! I've got ya dead to rights!
The arena dims, green and yellow lights flash around as pyros go off. "Break Stuff" starts through the arena and Fox Strife walks from the back, with his valet Nikki Cooley, and they head down toward the ring. They stop at the top of the aisle and Fox puts both of his fists in the air, then pulls them back down as more pyros go off. Fox and Nikki walk down to the ring, slapping a few hands along the way. They get into the ring and 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 his opponent.
(Tom) Speaking of dead to rights, though, JB… What about that gorgeous Nikki?! Her with all those curves and me without brakes!
(JB) She sure does show off an awful lot, doesn't she…?
(Tom) She ought to! She's got nothing to be ashamed of! Sex is the most beautiful and natural thing money can buy!
Referee Walt Mason gives our two combatants the sual pre-game "keep it clean" talk--the very same talk many of our parents gave us when we were teenagers--and cuts a line between with his hand and signals for the bell. Nikki claps to the crowd, attempting to rally support for her man while Strife and Lake circle one another in the ring, sizing their opponent and looking for some kind of weakness to exploit early and often.
(JB) Neither Ainsley nor Fox look to be too eager to make the first move, but Strife has a tremendous size advantage and that has to figure heavily into his game plan. Lake's gotta stay at arm's length if she doesn't want to fall victim to one of multitudes of suplexes in Strife's arsenal!
(Tom) Suplex Schmu-plex, JB! They don't call her Lake for nothing!
(JB) What does that even mean?
(Tom) It means… You've got diarrhea of the mouth and constipation of the brain! And we're both missing the action!
Strife lunges at Lake, looking to Clothesline her into the ground but his smaller, more agile foe quickly ducks under the arm and delivers a resounding knife-edge chop to his chest. Followed by another. And another. It appears as though Ainsley's caught the Massachusetts native off guard as she checks in with an impressive streak of chops… But it's a short-lived victory. Fox powers through her offense and drives her back-first into the nearest turnbuckle, then grabs an arm and Irish Whips our Femme Fatale across the ring. Lake lands hard against the post and rests there, catching her breath until Strife barrels into her one of his perfect-form Running Clotheslines.
(Tom) This is an atrocity, JB! Any man who treats a woman like this should have to eat some of your wife's bad cooking!
(JB) It's a dog-eat-dog world, Kalhoun… Lake knew what she was getting into when she got into this business and she's damn sure got the spunk to back it up! Ainsley Lake's one of the toughest little ladies I've ever met, and it's going to take a whole lot to keep her down!
Nikki continues playing cheerleader on the outside by pounding on the apron but it appears as though Fox is tuning her out, instead going to work on Ainsley's knees. Having tossed her out into the middle of the ring like a rag doll, Strife puts the boots to her left leg in an attempt to ground the high-flying diva… A tactic that might have actually worked had he stuck to it and not tried pulling her up off the canvas for something a little more… High impact. Lake wriggles free of a textbook suplex mid-air, dropping down for the go-behind and an Old School Roll-Up. Strife's shoulders are flush to the mat.
(JB) Fox out at one and you've got to wonder what Lake was thinking!
(Tom) She was thinking: "Oh, I guess it's time to win the match."
(JB) Spectacular insight into the mind of a woman, Bear! I bet your ex-wives would agree!
Both competitors up quickly, Lake takes a bounce off the near-side ropes and watches as Strife drops to his belly. She skips over him and rockets back from the other side. Fox telegraphs a Back Body Drop and gets nailed with a Dropkick for his troubles, stumbling backwards into the cables. Seeking to keep the heat on, Lake charges at her larger aggressor, only to have Strife dip a shoulder and propel her straight into the air, up and over the top rope. She lands as deftly as a cat on the apron, though, jams her elbow into the back of Strife's head and then springboards off the top rope, taking advantage of his current disorientation.
(JB) Hurricanrana! Beautiful Springboard Hurricane there by Ainsley Lake and we've got a match! Fox can't clear his head fast enough before she… What's Nikki doing? She can't do that! Dammit, ref… Get that Hellcat off the apron!
(Tom) She's jealous, Mannwheel! She can't stand another woman being so close to her man!
Strife's valet is standing on the bottom rope, leaning over the top and screaming some rather unsightly obscenities at Lake--who is, despite her best interests, unable to resist Cooley's taunts. The two start arguing… And Nikki takes a swing, a wild slap that Lake easily avoids. Ainsley turns to see a big Yakuza Kick headed her way, just in the nick of time. Lake dodges this, as well, and Strife is unable to stop his momentum. He barely keeps from clocking Nikki, who drops to the floor with milliseconds to spare, before getting turned around and popped out of nowhere with an incredible Running Spinning Wheel Kick from Lake.
She heads to the top rope.
(JB) He's up and he's down! Ainsley Lake nails the Higher Side of Low on a dazed Strife! She goes for the cover and… She's got one! She's got two! She's got… Three! Three! She's done it! Ainsley Lake took advantage of all the confusion and put Strife down for the count!
(Tom) Ainsley Lake just broke the Internet in half!
(JB) By God, Kalhoun…! By God!
What the Crap, Trevor?
We fade in to Trevor Cunning, sitting and watching the show alone in his locker room. He’s laughing at the “campaign” ads that have just finished playing to end the commercial break. We hear a loud, metallic “bang” as the locker room door swings open. Standing in the entrance, none too pleased, are Keith Owens and Ron Barker, Cunning’s partners for the evening.
(Trevor) Guys, I can explain.
(Keith) Well, then Trevor, you better do it quickly.
(Ron) I have never seen the Notebook!
(Trevor) Are you really going to believe all of this nonsense? Do you really think that I’m behind those two ads?
(Keith) They did say “I’m Trevor Cunning and I approve of being a backstabbing prick,” or did I imagine that part too?
(Ron) There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a delicious non-alcoholic beverage after a difficult evening!
(Trevor) Wait, that picture really was you?
(Keith) Dude.
(Ron) No. I mean. Crap.
(Trevor) I’m telling you, Keith, Ron… it had to have been Lane and Spaz behind this. I might be a sadistic, arrogant son of a bitch, but I don’t run around and stab people behind other people’s backs. I stab them in the face where it hurts the most.
(Ron) That InStyle magazine was the only thing in the trainer’s office.
(Keith) You’re not helping your case, here Ron.
(Trevor) Seriously dude… just… just stop talking.
(Ron) So it really wasn’t you, Cunning.
(Trevor) Honestly. After all, I’ve had a beer with you Ron, and Keith, I went to your grandfather’s funeral, didn’t I?
(Keith) My grandfather isn’t dead. He recovered like two weeks later.
(Trevor) So whose funeral was that that we went to?
(Keith) I thought that was your grandfather.
(Trevor) Nope.
(Ron) Ahem.
(Trevor) Right. The point is that Spaz and Mike Lane are a pair of practical joke playing, think emasculating my friends in an albeit true manner is funny. So let’s go out to the ring and kick their asses!
Barker and Owens look at Cunning dubiously, before turning to leave the locker room. Just whether or not they believe Trevor remains to be seen. Before leaving, Trevor turns to the camera and shakes his head disapprovingly.
Cut.
Bashin' With Sebastian
"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, so he gives them a few 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.
Meanwhile, a logo is being displayed on the NAFW-Tron.
Sebastian Hawke has an unmistakably puzzled look on his face.
(Sebastian) Did that just say what I think it said?
The crowd is roaring with laughter.
(Sebastian) No, no, no! Tell me... That did not just say what I think it said?
He pauses, looks down at his hand then looks up at the fans, eyes wide open with mocking intensity.
(Sebastian) This is heading down a dangerous road.
The crowd is still stirring with laughter.
(Sebastian) Now then!
He straightens up, chuckling with a genuine smile at the audience in attendance.
(Sebastian) Welcome to Bashin' with me, yours truly, Sebastian Hawke!
Small pop for our up and coming superstar.
(Sebastian) Hawke!
He smiles a bit wider now.
(Sebastian) HAWKE!!!!
The crowd turns up the laughter just a slight notch, with Sebastian breaking out in laughter himself.
(Sebastian) We're so going to get sued for the first minute of this segment alone, and guess WHAT!? IT ONLY GETS WORSE!
Sebastian nods his head, taking something from a ringside attendant.
(Sebastian) So, let's get to the first item on the itenerary! We all know this is a new show, so I asked all my fans, how should I christen my new segment. Here's a few letters with responses! Let's see what they say!
He opens up the top letter, unfolding the pages to read it.
(Sebastian) Sebastian, you are new to the NAFW, so I'd say for your first show, you should tell us all about how it felt to work your first few weeks at the NAFW! Well... ALRIGHTY THEN!
The crowd pops with genuine interest.
(Sebastian) First night on the job, I met a few of the superstars. Amongst them, I met the guy who I would have my first match with, Charles Member! I mean... Johnson! Or was it Twig'n'Berries? I don't remember. Anyway.
The crowd starts chanting a very profane quote, that ends with the word 'head' and begins with the letter 'd'. You fill in the blanks. They quiet down a few seconds later.
(Sebastian) Class act, great guy, told me a lot about the people who you meet here, who are not at all bad, by the way. Remember kids, we are proffessional athletes and do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT really kill babies!
He points at the camera.
(Sebastian) Love ya Jester!
Another chuckle.
(Sebastian) So, after meeting Charlie T, we hung out, kicked back a few brewskies, trained for our match, touched each other in spots, and then I lost to him in count out! WOOOO WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
A sarcastic smile stretches across his face.
(Sebastian) And all the while, Keith Owens was in the back masturbating to the NAFW Foundation Heavyweight Championship, which he went on to lose! But not to me! NO! I had to face Ron Barker, for the FIRST time! And lose against him, for the FIRST of TWO times! AND THAT IS WHY ALL OUR MEN ARE WOMEN!
(Sebastian) That really didn't explain anything, did it? Whatever, moving along!
He flips to another letter.
(Sebastian) Mr. Hawke, it has come to our attention that you are eligible for 4.5% APR financing on a new Capital One Premium... What the [X-Cold] is this!??!? NEXT!
He tosses that one off to the side and flips open a new one.
(Sebastian) Sebastian, how did it feel to lose against Charles Johnson? You know that he's a better athlete than you are. Signed, "CJMark2354". What the [X-Cold]? Is this kid serious?
He points at the camera, smiling.
(Sebastian) You get into the ring with an incredibly sweaty, clumsy and ugly white man and see if you want to get back into the ring with him. I was saving my skin from breaking out with acne! Every time he touched me, I felt the sweat on his body and it was UNSANITARY! I would NEVER let him lie on top of me for three seconds! I would come out looking like I got pressure cooked in hot oil!
And it's at that moment that we get cut away from Sebastian's segment, to the entrance ramp where...
Johnson steps out onto the top of the ramp and stares down at Sebastian.
(Charles) So, I'm the stupid white boy hmm? Well this white boy at least holds a win over your ass. I get the same bullshit from just barely beating you with a count out.
Johnson starts to make his way down slowly.
(Charles) So Hawkie boy if you got the nerves to go toe to toe with me again. I suggest we settle this in a little match at Last Rites. Thats if you claim to have the balls to settle this once and for all. Because I dont want to waste my time on a worthless piece of [X-COLD].
Johnson starts to leave with or without Sebastian's answer
(Sebastian) WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! Hey now rockstar! You're gettin your guns jumpin before the cart!
He stops for a second, thinking.
(Sebastian) Then he starts shaking his head.
(Sebastian) Aw to hell with it! That can't be right! But I know what is wrong! You see, you and me getting into a ring together, that's quite far from being a 'little' match. Last Rites. Charles Johnson. Sebastian Hawke. One On One for the World Homoweight Championship! You may win that that title by default but I can guaran-damn-tee that I'm walking out of that arena with my hands held high and the victory over your sorry ass that I DESERVE!
He leans over, hunching his back out as if he were some kind of monstrous entity.
(Sebastian) It's clobberin' time!
And then all of a sudden we go to static, where the Network probably pulled the plug on that segment before they got another phone call about getting sued.
Commercial
Ron Barker, Keith Owens and Trevor Cunning vs. Mike Lane, Spaz and Diamond Del Carver (FH)
The sound of the Rock Remix of It's All About The Benjamins comes across the sound system, and the boos and jeers amplify to an almost deafening pitch…nearly drowning out the music. Two spotlights sweep dramatically across the arena, and a small burst of pyro goes off, as Keith Owens and Trevor Cunning emerge into the aisle, both with massive grins on their faces. Owens starts to walk down to the ring, his swaggering exuding total confidence and ultimate cockiness, and Trevor and Ketih's valet Melissa Hayes are right behind him.
(Tom) These two men have done a lot lately.
(JB) Don't get me started.
Finally, Trevor Cunning reaches the point where Keith Owens awaits, and the two men enter the ringside area, and head up the steps into the ring. Trevor Cunning and Owens take their position directly across from Carver and Alejandro. Diamond Del Carver appears to be yelling at the two men, but Owens just smirks, and Trevor Cunning makes a great production of yawning dramatically. Finally, the music dies down and Cruci-fiction in Space by Marilyn Manson starts to play. 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.
(JB) Bear, tell me why we're supposed to respect these men.
(Tom) It's fairly simple. These three men are the best the NAFW has to offer. We can't even count on our Champion to show up.
(JB) He'll be out shortly, Bear.
(Tom) That remains to...
BOOM!
(Tom) ... Mary, mother of God.
Audioslave's "Cochise" hits the speakers as the wall of pyro fades down from the entrance way. Mike Lane and Spaz appear through the curtain, and every bit of the negative vibes we felt earlier are gone, replaced by a cacophany of cheering. The throwback NAFW jersey's are both being sported by these two men that many are figuring to represent a bygone era of the company.
(JB) You want to talk about respect...
(Tom) Then you don't talk about these two guys.
Lane and Spaz stop a few feet in front of the ring, and look around the arena. The music stops, and everyone knows what we're waiting on.
(Tom) Go ahead and ring the bell, ref. He ain't coming.
(JB) He'll be he...
The ole boy doesn't get to finish his sentence, because Lane and Spaz are storming the ring. They're not willing to wait on their partner. Spaz sends Barker flying over the top rope with a clothesline, while Lane does the same to the Trust Fund Kids. The three villians gather up on the outside, and Owens yells at referee James Elbourn to ring the bell, and get things under control. Elbourn confers with Lane and Spaz in the ring for a moment, before pointing to the time keeper to ring the bell.
(Tom) Oh this is rich, these two guys are going to take on these three studs two on three.
(JB) Wow Bear, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were commentating a ga...
(Tom) We don't speak of those days anymore.
The three heels take note of this, and have a quick moment to determine the starting man. Cunning slides into the ring, and Lane loosens up in his corner. They walk to the middle of the ring, and lock up. The two men jockey for position, both sharing roughly the same build, although Lane has a bit more fat on him and thus a bit more leverage. The Godfather gets pulled into a side headlock, but he pushes Lane into the ropes. Upon the rebound, Cunning hits the mat, and Lane leaps over him. When the Superstar comes back, Trevor hoists Lane up and brings him down with a powerslam.
(JB) Impressive move from Trevor Cunning.
(Tom) To you, it's impressive. To Trevor, it's business as usual.
Owens and Barker both clap a bit for the manuever, but they freeze when they notice that Lane has hooked Cunning's arm, and is holding him in an awkward looking armbar. Cunning fights off the hold for a moment before deciding to pick up Lane while still in the hold. Cunning has him up in a fallaway slam position, but Lane releases Cunning's arm, and chops the back of Cunning's leg, bringing the Godfather down. Lane, now released is back up to his feet, and he lifts Cunning to his feet long enough to bring him back down with a single arm DDT. He pulls the man back to his corner, and contorts the same arm before tagging in Spaz, who heads to the top rope, and comes down on that same arm with a chop.
(JB) These guys have pretty good teamwork.
(Tom) I just want to know what the hell Mike Lane was doing. Has he been training in the drunken monkey style of submission wrestling.
(JB) Actually, I would think that Cunning would be a master of that.
Spaz sends Cunning into the opposite ropes, and rebounds off the nearest set. However, Owens gets a blind tag on Cunning. Spaz sees it, and manages to leapfrog Cunning, but Owens springboards off the top rope to get Spaz in a sunset flip while Cunning nails Lane. Spaz, fresh as a daisy, kicks out easily, but gets kicked in the back of the head by Cunning as the Godfather heads for his corner. Lane charges the ring, but Elbourn sends him back to the corner, yelling at him. Barker claps his hands together, and comes in, while Owens knees Spaz in the face. Barker takes over with a half crab while Keith gets on the apron. Elbourn mistakes that as a tag, and allows it to happen. Lane just waits on the apron, stretching out for the tag.
(JB) These men claim to be the best, yet they have to resort to cheating tactics.
(Tom) That's why they're the best, because they do what they have to to win.
Spaz manages to make the nearest set of ropes, but Barker holds on until the last moment. He lets Spaz use his energy to stand to his feet, and then snap suplexes him, floating over into a pin for a two count. Barker drops a knee on the forehead of Spaz, and sneers down at the man who he has some history with. He throws the NAFW Original to the heel corner, and begins to lay in with surgically precise strikes to the midsection and face of Spaz. Elbourn pulls him off when he has done this for too long, and Cunning and Owens begin laying into Spaz too. Elbourn turns to see Lane charging across the ring, and stops to pull him back, allowing Barker to drag his elbow across the face of Spaz while Cunning chokes him, and Owens lays in shots to the back.
(JB) This is going to become a mugging.
(Tom) It's been awhile since I've seen a good mugging.
Lane has the crowd chanting for Spaz as he awaits a tag. It doesn't look like it's going to be coming anytime soon though as Cunning has sauntered back in, to do his damage to Spaz. The battered Spaz is drug to the middle of the ring, where Cunning yells at Owens that they should spike him. Owens heads up to the top rope as the Godfather gets Spaz to a piledriver position. However the crowd begins popping like mad just as Trevor's eyes go wide. Owens looks over to see Ron Barker pulled off the apron and given a quick Diamond Death Drop by...
(Tom) NOO!!! IT'S CARVER!!
(JB) I knew he'd be here! I just knew it!
Carver heads up, and sends Keith flying off the top rope towards the middle of the ring. The Difference Maker collides with Cunning, and the two men drop to the ground in a heap. Sean begins to come to as Lane leads the crowd in more Spaz chants. He begins to crawl for the corner, as Cunning and Owens get back to their feet. Spaz manages to leap for the corner, but instead of Lane, Carver has gotten his hand in there to recieve the tag. With the crowd behind him, Del charges the Trust Fund Kids, and clotheslines them both out of their boots. He gives an atomic drop to both men, and delivers a strong discus punch to level Cunning, who crawls to the corner where Melissa Hayes is waiting with a bottle of Jack.
(JB) Carver is cleaning house.
(Tom) But look at his partners.
While the heel team is scrambling to fight the Foundation Champion, Mike Lane is splitting time between looking incredulously at Carver and helping Spaz to his feet. Carver picks up Owens to do something, but Barker comes out of nowhere to clothesline the back of the Champ's head, sending him down. Owens and Barker begin putting the boots to the head and neck area of Carver as Elbourn begins to step in. However, the official sees Mike Lane stepping into the ring, and just shakes his head, backing off. Lane sends Barker flying across the ring with his Degeneration t-bone suplex. However, he also sends Barker flying right into Elbourn, who goes down.
(JB) Someone get James Elbourn up. We need an official!
(Tom) It doesn't matter, Mann-wich, only the legal man can get the pin.
Owens backs off for a moment as Carver gets to his feet. Lane helps him up, and then turns to deliver a vicious Shadow Kick to Keith Owens. Cunning staggers back to the middle of the ring where Carver grabs him for the DDD, but the Godfather came prepared. He spits a nice combination of saliva and Jack Daniels into Carver's eyes, causing the Champ to back away. Melissa Hayes grabs Lane's boot, and holds on for dear life, as Cunning nails Carver with the Sobriety Test in the middle of the ring. Barker leaps into Lane's path to stop him from breaking up the pin. Elbourn comes to, and is able to count Carver down. 1....2....3!
(Tom) Cunning pins the Champion!!!!!!
(JB) It took a bottle of Jack to do it, though!
(Tom) A win is a win!
The battered Barker and Owens storm the ring, and join Cunning in beating down Carver. Lane bails from the ring, and helps the recovered Spaz back up the ramp. Spaz makes broad motions that they should go help Carver, and Lane mouths something in the vein that Carver would rather work alone.
(JB) What is going on here?
(Tom) Even Spaz and Mike Lane can't stand Del Carver's selfishness.
(JB) Selfishness?
(Tom) He left them hanging until he thought he could show up and save the day!
(JB) It wasn't like that, Bear.
(Tom) Sure it wasn't...
(JB) Well, it looks like Del Carver will have quite the score to settle with any one of the men who want to challenge for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship! Last Rites: Anointed With Blood is only a week away... Vote or Die fans, VOTE OR DIE!!!!!!!
Lane and Spaz exchange glares and trash talking with the Trust Fund Kids and Ron Barker with the Foundation Champion's beaten body lying inbetween them as the NAFW logo pops up on the screen.
