Junk in the Trunk
In retrospect, Lorenzo Richards now realizes he should have carpooled to the arena with his cousin Leonard Aarons. The Reaper had wanted to arrive early – take in the empty arena for the first time as Foundation Heavyweight Champion and Lorenzo – well, Lorenzo wanted to sleep in, nurse his injuries, maybe spend some quality time with the Mrs..
He figured the extra cash for the rental car would be worth it, Mother Earth be damned. Yet Lorenzo, now cold and alone in the trunk of his rented, cherry red Ford Mustang, legs already cramped and falling asleep, now realizes that showing up to the arena alone, in a poorly lit parking lot is a very bad idea when there’s a drunken lunatic running around with revenge on the brain.
At the very least – he should’ve thrown his bags in the backseat instead of into the trunk. He made a mental note to tell Charlene not to bring so much luggage as he adjusted his shoulder to prevent an errant high heel from digging into his flesh.
He never heard Cunning sneak up from behind him, but he sure as squash at Thanksgiving Dinner felt the shards of glass dig into his scalp when the bottle of Jack Daniels connected with the back of his skull.
As Lorenzo began pounding the trunk from within, trying to either signal for help or, quite possibly, given his size, open the trunk by brute force - he made a mental note to beat the living hell out of Cunning the next time he saw him.
Your television screen, tuned to TNT, is pitch black, and a guitar riff begins to be shred in the background. It’s the opening to “Assassin” by Muse which is also known as Annihilation’s official new theme song.
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.
The standard fast pace hard hitting action clips are shown as the song plays on, bulding up to a giant drum roll where the intro video ends and we flash to the Annihilation logo.
ON
Cue the huge boom of the indoor pyrotechnics display.
BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
The cameras pan around the arena, showing shots of various fan signs before finallu cutting to the ringside announcer’s table, where JB Mann and Tom “The Bear” Kalhoun are standing by.
(JB) Welcome to Annihilation! I’m J.B. Mann, and with me, I fear, for eternity, is…
(Tom) Wahhh… I’m trapped in my trunk! Wahhhhh….
(JB) Tom Kalhoun, known to Wrestling fans worldwide as the Bear.
(Tom) Did you see that, Mann-Wagon! Seven feet tall and he goes down like a cheerleader on a webcam!
(JB) As I’m contractually obligated to ask… You really approve of what Trevor Cunning did to the Platinum Prognosticator?
(Tom) Look at it this way, Mann-hole. If someone broke in to your home, and took what rightfully belonged to you – wouldn’t you defend yourself and your possessions?
(JB) Of course. I’m American!
(Tom) Second Amendment represent!
(JB) Right to bear arms – what up?
(Tom) Trevor Cunning was robbed at Death Wish! Mike Lane screwed him, Lorenzo Richards screwed him, and most of all – The Reaper screwed him! Those three mung bean eating cretinoids colluded and conspired to steal the Foundation Heavyweight Championship – and every last one of them is going to pay.
(JB) We’re about to kick things over to Amie Carmichael in the ring with our brand new...
(Tom) I refuse to acknowledge a felon as the Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
(JB) So even though Trevor lost cleanly, was pinned for the first time since returning to the NAFW, you still...ah forget it. Let's throw it up to Amie Carmichael who's in the ring ready to make the proper introduction.
The Gospel
It's here that we throw it up to Amie who's standing center stage so to speak, with the crowd buzzing.
(Amie) Ladies and gentlemen, history was made at Death Wish as the conclusion of Three Wishes 2007 saw the Foundation Heavyweight Champion leave a double champion temporarily and then lose after the man who I'm about to introduce cashed in his Wish and got a title shot under No Holds Barred rules.
Obligatory pop from the fans.
(Amie) So without further adue, allow me to introduce your brand NEW!!!
Boisterous, near ear shattering pop.
(Amie) FOUNDATION!!! HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!!
Now you can start hearing eardrums rattling a bit because of the noise. The lights are starting to go out in sections of the arena bit by bit.
(Amie) He is "The Reaper"...LEONARD!!! AARONS!!!
It's here that the lights are totally out, as the NAFWtron flickers off and on. A little girl's eerie tone can be heard above the noise, yet it's ominous in its tone.
We get a shot of Aarons cutting numerous promos against Cunning in the weeks leading up to Death Wish.
We get a shot of Trevor being carried out after retaining his title via time running out on Aarons.
We get a clip of Owens catching Aarons from behind with the Owens Express, followed up with the Difference Maker onto the Lendo Stick before putting a prone Cunning on top of Aarons for a victory.
With Owens gone, Aarons would unleash hell on Cunning, busting him open even more before dropping him with the Reaper's Wrath. This scene goes grey before we see the words "Death Wish".
It's here that we see Aarons refusing medical attention and crawling back into the ring, screaming at Cunning barely able to lift his head.
We see Cunning charge back in albeit a frozen shot of him pounding on Aarons, then another of him rubbing Lane's face in it.
We get rapid fire shots of Aarons taking the fight to Cunning, accompanied by the same music which preceded The Undertaker's entrance at Wrestlemania XIV and his fight with Kane. We see the Lariat which puts Cunning down, followed by the Garden State Pounce which sets up the final sequence. Cunning grabbing the Lendo Stick. Aarons getting Jack. Aarons spews the mist into Cunning's eyes, causing The Godfather to stumble backwards before he meets the business end of the bottle which stumbles him back one more time. It's here that it slows to a crawl as Aarons hoists Cunning up and then spins him out, driving him down onto the mat. It's here that we hear the claws starting to sharpen, as the fans get even louder. The audio from that night can be heard as we get still shots of Aarons crawling over to cover Cunning, as we see shots of Owens rushing to save the day only this time...it was too little, too late. Cunning finally felt The Reaper's Wrath. Aarons finally realized his destiny and proved what he said all along to be true.
The giggle gives way to a roar which causes a huge pyro explosion at the entranceway as we hear...
We see the NAFWtron flash a shot of the NAFW Originals doing goofy stuff, all the while the Trust Fund Kids run amok. Along with Diamond Del Carver, who was champion non grata in the final days of his reign.
Now we see Aarons bloodying Cunning repeatedly, before ultimately clutching the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, his face a bloody mess. It's here that we see The Reaper logo as silence befalls the arena save for the fans in the place that are still buzzing. That silence is broken as "Fight The Power" by Public Enemy starts pumping through the speakers and the place gets loud in a hurry. The usual flood of flashing gold and crimson is ever present as the dry fog starts to emanate from the entranceway. Within moments, after the year '1989' is uttered, the fans officially become unglued. The noise decibel level is almost ear shattering as The Reaper stands tall in his black sweatshirt with his trademark logo on it only this one has a twist to it. Instead of the usual Lendo Sticks underneath, there's a shot of Aarons holding the title in his hands moments after winning it. His hood's up, although the newest addition to his wardrobe is definitely the 15 pound belt draped over his right shoulder. His hands are taped in crimson, because when you're The Reaper, you've got to be prepared to fight. Oh yeah, he's got his Lendo Stick handy just in case.
(JB) The fans here are going ballistic at the sight of our new Foundation Heavyweight Champion. For those of you who don't know or are just tuning in...
(Tom) Don't be offended by what you're seeing. It's just a figment of all of our imaginations and as soon as Trevor cashes in his Wish, we'll have order restored here.
(JB) "The Reaper" was victorious in an impromptu No Holds Barred match after Three Wishes was over and The Trust Fund Kids were victorious coming away with one Wish and every title that was up for grabs. The Difference Maker is a Grand Slam Champion and for a moment, The Godfather was still Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
(Tom) Until that 50 Cent wannabe had to crash things by cashing in his Wish and challenging the champion to a title match right then and there. It's the worst ending we've ever had to a pay per view.
(JB) Including Body Count… when the company shut down?
(Tom) At least Aarons wasn’t Foundation Heavyweight Champion after Body Count.
(JB) You lost your job!
(Tom) I still however, had my dignity!
The Reaper has ascended to the apron and turns to face the crowd, as he removes the strap from his shoulder and steps inside the ring as he stands center stage and strikes his signature pose, causing fire to erupt from all four corners bringing the lights back on in the arena. He stands next to Amie with a large grin on his face, as he points his Lendo Stick off into the crowd as we see scantily clad women in just bikini tops with the word Reaper spelled out across their body. Only a new Foundation Heavyweight Champion could elicit such a reaction from the estrogen population of the NAFW audience. With the chants dying down enough so that Amie can begin, she starts.
(Amie) First off, congratulations on accomplishing your goal of dethroning Trevor Cunning and...
(The Reaper) Really, it's nothing. I simply proved a point at Death Wish.
(Amie) That being?
(The Reaper) That being...Cunning isn't anywhere in my league. I mean, let's look at the facts here shall we? The first time out, he needed time to save his ass from my Wrath. The second time, he needed Keith to be the Difference Maker in order to have him escape my Wrath once more. Well Trevor, you made your little jokes and cut your little promos like you were tough shit, but I told you all along boy. There's more to a name than you could feasibly comprehend. I told you that much like those little brats in Final Destination learned, you don't escape Death and you're looking at the wrestling incarnate of that.
The fans pop like mad, as Aarons smiles once more, simply nodding his head to the cheers.
(The Reaper) So what Zo and I agreed to was simply this and I said it at the end of Three Wishes. No matter what happened, the Two (Bleep)ing Kids weren't going to walk out of there with the whole ball of wax. And as I told Trevor all along, without his boy around to save his ass, he was a done deal. And what happened the second Keith left the little boy to fend for himself?
It's here that Aarons points to the NAFWtron to show the final sequence, specifically Cunning coming back a third time and catching the receiving end of The Reaper's Wrath.
(Amie) But do you believe that things could've been different if Keith gotten there a split second sooner? I mean, it was rather risky to gamble away your lone Wish the same night you had that grueling ladder match.
(The Reaper) Because simply put, great risks...well...
He gives a rather sly grin and motions to his right shoulder where that title belt of his rests.
(The Reaper) You know the rest. The fact remained, I knew I had more than enough in me to take that title from him. You all saw he didn't have enough in him...to KEEP IT. And that of course brings me to the here and now. Two teams got Wishes and I'm guessing you want to ask me what I think of them, right?
(Amie) Well, yeah.
(The Reaper) Let's start with Mike Lane. Well Mikey, I'm glad you had a ringside, err, cornerside seat for my greatest victory to date. And I'm fairly sure you're sitting in some place right now in your little NAFW jersey thinking, 'if only I weren't past my prime, I could beat The Reaper'. 'I can still make one last run at the top' and let me tell you something right now...don't do it. Spare the fans and more importantly, spare yourself the humility of having to come up against me and being yet another who feels my Wrath. Ask Charles Johnson, ask Dwayne Bishop, ask the countless others through NAFW lore...they'll tell you the same thing. Go after the Atlantic Championship, go after the X-Treme Title...hell, I think the tag straps would look great on you...until my cousin and I remove them from you so never mind that thought. But the SECOND you make that Wish to become Foundation Heavyweight Champion, whether you're a man the fans cheer or boo...you will catch it just the same. As for you Spaz, same thing applies.
The fans give a rather mixed reaction to his words, but he's not flinching in the least.
(Amie) But don't you think that...
(The Reaper) It's unwise to go calling people out? Let me tell you, wearing this means you're a target and unlike some folks who have previously held this belt, I want to see who's coming at me from a mile out. So yeah, I say bring it if you've got a Death Wish you need granted. The Reaper's more than happy to comply. Which brings me to the other pair of fools who got their little Wish...the Trust Fund Kids.
This is probably the only time of the night where the crowd boos and boos horrifically.
(Amie) Well, they are the NAFW Tag Team Champions and you can best believe Trevor wants his title back.
(The Reaper) I'm sure he does and there's something I should let him in on.
He looks square into the camera, his face taking on a rather stone engraved look of focus and determination all at the same time.
(The Reaper) Trevor, I told you what was coming and you didn't listen. You didn't heed the warnings and as a result, you felt my wrath. I did everything I told you I was going to do and simply put, your career is now in my back pocket. Yeah, you've got the tag straps as a little consolation prize but don't think for one moment we're done. We ain't done by a (bleep)ing long shot, bitch.
A huge roar comes up from the crowd as Aarons smirks just a little.
(The Reaper) Simply put, you've got something I want, I've got something you want. The only difference here is, I'm going to get what I want and you...well...
He reaches into his sweatshirt pocket and pulls out of all things, a bottle of Jack Daniels. The same bottle albeit not exactly that cost Cunning his title at Death Wish.
(The Reaper) You'll always have...Jack. Because at the end of the day holmes, messing around with the Crew is going to leave you and ole Keith with...JACK. Figuratively and literally.
(Amie) But aren't you forgetting about Keith Owens? He was only seconds away from possibly costing you the match at Death Wish and is the reason you didn't walk into Death Wish as the Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
A slightly deep sigh from the champion.
(The Reaper) Ah yes, the Difference Maker. Ya know, I personally believe that it was Keith's intention to see Trevor lose that title.
(Amie) What?
(The Reaper) Think about it. Back in Utah, right when I had Travis primed to feel my Wrath...he got down there just in the nick of time to drop me and ensure he walked away with the title. Then at Death Wish, he's seconds late and mere feet short of stopping me from doing the inevitable. So am I worried? No. Has he been there and done that? Sure. Has he beaten this, that and the other time and time again? Damn skippy he has. Has he beaten me though?
Beat.
(The Reaper) Bleep) no. See Keith, I know you're a Grand Slam Champion. I know you've won every title known to man and beaten every has been there is to beat, but here's a newsflash for ya to chew on. I'm not in awe of you and I'm damn sure not afraid of you. You test me once and you WILL feel my Wrath. Don't believe me? It's cool. Trevor didn't buy it either until he...
Pats the title belt and flashes that old school Trillion Dollar Smirk of his only this time, instead of drawing more heat than a member of Al-Qaeda walking through an airport, he's getting cheered out of the woodwork.
(The Reaper) Felt. My. Wrath. And guess what? I haven't forgotten what you did to me a few weeks back in Utah. Ya see, you signed your own death warrant and whether it's Trevor or you...you're gonna feel it. And it is a Len-evitable fact that while you might not be the first, you're going to be the next. My cousin and I will be the new NAFW Tag Team Champions and may God have mercy on the pathetic souls of whomever gets in our way.
(Amie) What are your thoughts on the fact that Keith's dad is...
(The Reaper) A Presidential candidate? I care to the sum of zero. Allow me to be perfectly clear here. Daddy even attempts to throw his weight around, trying to get this off my shoulder and I'm gonna show him what it's really like to get his weight THROWN around. Don't be dumb Steven, step aside and let your boy get the Devastation he's got coming to him like a man. Or pitiful attempt he might be anyway. Ultimately though, I will say that time's changing and this will begin a new day for the NAFW. The days of the Foundation Heavyweight Champion being a spinally deficient piece of crap are done. I run from no one and I will fight ANYONE. It matters not to me what you've done or who you've beaten because it's like this one time for the great time and ya'll can feel free to quote me here.
This is what we call, the money moment.
(The Reaper) What you won't have is around my shoulder...and who you won't beat...IS ME.
He strikes his trademark pose as "The Ripper Strikes Back" by LL Cool J hits as the fans erupt, his Lendo Stick in his left hand and the Foundation Heavyweight Championship on his right.
(JB) What a Champion! What a man!
(Tom) What a crock of…
(Tom) Finally!
From the mouth of babes comes the whispers of P-Diddy’s lovely ladies… fading to silence and spiking into shrill, piercing guitar. This is Tool – this is Sober – this is Trevor F’n Cunning – anything but.
(JB) Good Gord, Trevor looks like hell.
(Tom) How would you feel if you lost the one thing most important to you, Mann-Wheel? You’d start to lose it – wouldn’t you?
When Cunning steps out from behind the curtain – he’s certainly a sight. Unshaven, hair disheveled, collar only half popped on his official NAFW Trust Fund Kids Polo (available at NAFWShopZone.com now!) the bags under Trevor’s eyes speak volumes – he hasn’t slept in days.
He has a microphone in one hand and the ever present bottle of Jack in the other. In the ring, Aarons drops the title belt and braces himself for a fight.
(Tom) REMATCH! REMATCH!
(JB) It doesn’t appear to me that Cunning is in any shape for a match, Bear.
(Tom) He doesn’t want a wrestling match, Mann-equin. He wants a fight!
Cunning steps up on to the ring apron, only for Aarons to swing the Lendo Stick at the ropes. Cunning hops back to the floor.
(Trevor) I might be a mono-maniacal, hyper-aggressive, ruthless sunuvabitch with addictive tendencies – but damn, Lenny… even in this world of over-inflated egos we call Professional Wrestling – I don’t believe I’ve ever heard someone as in love with himself as you are!
(Tom) One word: Kramer.
(JB) Arwel Jones.
(Tom) Gord Edwards.
(JB) Jaime Alejandro.
(Tom) David Kurresh?
(JB) David Kurresh.
(Trevor) Normally, I’d just sit in the back and drink until the memory of you holding my title was erased from my brain like black marker on a co-ed’s white board – but, frankly, the “I’m so… slurp… amazing… slurp… talk really skunked my keg – if you know what I mean.
(Tom) Amen!
(JB) Ugh.
(Trevor) Three times I beat your ass – send you home with your tail between your stumpy little legs and Every. Single. Time. you come back with a bigger hard on for yours truly. Honestly, Lenny – you’re like a call girl with a bad case of the clap – no matter how hard I try to forget you, you’re always there, a little burning nuisance just screaming “remember me always Trevor!”
(JB) The Reaper’s seething right now!
(Tom) You would be too, Mann-wheel, if you were compared, and correctly I might add, to a bad case of venereal disease.
(Trevor) Now, since I was a man’s man; a fighting champion – and I offered you title shot after title shot – opportunity after opportunity… and since I have a funny, sinking feeling that we’re both going to be without partners tonight – how about we turn our Tag Title match into a Foundation Heavyweight Championship match?
(JB) Will someone get to the parking lot and get Lorenzo Richards out of that car?
(Tom) Screw that! I want a new Eff Aich See!
The crowd starts chanting “Reaper” and “Rematch,” alternating with each two syllable beat. Cunning climbs up the stairs as the Reaper raises the mic. When he lowers the Lendo Stick, Cunning sneaks between the ropes.
The two men begin circling each other.
(The Reaper) I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You honestly think that I’m going to reward you for being a miserable son of a bitch? For cheating me and screwing me over time and time again?
You, Trevor Cunning, actually think that I’m going to pass up the opportunity for my cousin and I to take those Tag Team Titles?
Fat chance.
I understand you’re afraid of losing what little gold you have left, Cunning. But I promised myself that I wouldn’t stop until I left you with nothing. Tonight, Zo and I are taking those Tag Team Titles.
The Reaper steps forward, getting in Cunning’s face.
(Trevor) Really? It’s currently… nine fifteen – thanks, windbag, for wasting the first quarter hour, by the way… do you know where your tag partner is?
(Tom) Oooh! Oooh! I do! I do!
(JB) Are you some kind of monkey or chimpanzee?
(Tom) Only when your mom and I play Tarzan, Mann-hole.
Cunning steps back, leaning casually against the top rope. He motions to the NAFW-Tron – where we see Lorenzo’s rental – and hear loud, thumping noises and screams coming from the trunk.
Aarons, now fuming, has to exert all his willpower to not just flat out attack Cunning.
(Tom) There he is!
(JB) Cunning’s proud of locking Richards in the trunk.
(Tom) I’m proud of him too! Now we don’t have to watch the big, lumbering oaf wrestle.
(Trevor) I’m going to ask you one more time, Lenny. You and Me – Eff Aich See?
(The Reaper) For the last time Cunning – No. You can make me as angry as you want – but seeing as how I’m still going to get my hands on you tonight – I can be patient and cripple you then.
(Trevor) Well aren’t you virtuous, Lenny? Alright – locking your inbred cousin in his trunk won’t do it for you? Fine.
I didn’t want to have to do this – but you see, Lenny – you weren’t the only one who grabbed a wish… and I think that tonight is as good a night as any to…
(The Reaper) Wait for your little buddy, Keith to sign off on you using it? Somehow – I doubt you have his permission. I know how these things work, Trev. Face it. No matter how hard you try – you’re not getting a title shot.
Cunning starts rubbing his chin – obviously frustrated. He kicks the bottom rope and takes a swig of Jack, swallowing hard.
The Reaper steps forward, Lendo Stick at his side.
(The Reaper) You don’t deserve one, Trevor.
Cunning takes another swig, this one long enough that its nearly a chug. He starts shaking nervously, as if his body, as if his very soul is aching for a fix. The Reaper takes another step forward.
(The Reaper) You just aren’t good enough to face me… to be a Champion.
Cunning turns and spits Jack Daniels right in the Reaper’s face.
(Tom) He just got served.
(JB) Oh it’s on, now.
(Tom) It is so on.
The Reaper wipes the Jack from his eyes and glares at Cunning.
(The Reaper) Big (bleep)-ing mistake.
Aarons rushes forward, Lendo Stick raised. Cunning sidesteps, sending Aarons to the ropes. The Reaper bounces off – heading back with double speed. He swings with greater bat speed than Kevin Youkilis, with more power than David Ortiz or Manny Ramirez – yet with the accuracy of one Julio Lugo.
The big whiff is met with a right to the jaw, a second right, a straight jab to the nose, a right cross and a knee to the midsection. Aarons drops the Lendo Stick and stumbles back towards the ropes.
He falls back towards Cunning, who proceeds to Boot, and then Rally.
(JB) And the Champ is down!
(Tom) Serves him right for being a Greedy Gus!
(JB) Of course he was going to miss with those Lendo shots – Trevor spit alcohol right into his eyes, damn him!
With the Reaper dazed – Cunning reaches into his pants and pulls out… a pair of handcuffs.
Geez, Nate – get your goddamn mind out of the gutter.
Cunning then pounces on Aarons, driving knees into Reaper’s skull and shoulders. Using stomps and knees, he forces Aarons over towards the corner – where he handcuffs the Foundation Heavyweight Champion to the bottom turnbuckle.
(JB) This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all!
(Tom) You’re not kidding, Mann-Wagon! I’m out of popcorn – and the show’s just starting!
(JB) Ladies and Gentlemen – if you have small children watching – I suggest you either change the channel or have them leave the room.
(Tom) I’m sure the advertisers love that.
Cunning slides out of the ring and grabs the Reaper’s free wrist. Already, Aarons is straining at the bond on his left wrist – inadvertently leaving his right exposed.
This wrist too is handcuffed to the bottom rope.
Cunning takes his time climbing the ring steps, never taking his eyes off of The Reaper. Once inside the ring, he collects his belongings: his microphone and his bottle of Jack Daniels, and walks slowly towards the Reaper – each step more calculated than the last.
He immediately begins stomping the Reaper in the chest and face, raining heavy boots down until the Reaper stops straining against the cuffs. Cunning chokes the Foundation Heavyweight Champion – hands wrapped around Aarons’ throat with pure malice on his mind.
Cunning sits next to the Reaper – out of striking range, while Aarons gasps for breath.
(Trevor)Now, we all know that Zo ain’ t coming, Lenny – so let me ask you one more time: Can I have a title shot?
Please. For your own sake.
Cunning jams the microphone into Aarons’ nose, pressing against the soft cartilage.
(The Reaper) That’s unfortunate.
Cunning stands and climbs the top rope above the Reaper, taking a seat on the top turnbuckle. He opens the bottle of Jack Daniels – but rather than take a swig – he begins pouring it onto the Reaper’s face slowly – dripping the thick liquor into his eyes and mouth and across his clothing.
(Trevor) As you can guess Lenny – Trevor Cunning is pretty used to getting what Trevor Cunning wants.
There was, however, one time Trevor didn’t get what he wanted.
That was Mike Stryker’s fault.
(JB) Now I really don’t like where this is going.
(Tom) Tell me, Mann-Wheel – how do you like your Reaper cooked?
(JB) Son of a bitch.
The bottle of Jack expended – Cunning hops from the top to the apron to the floor. After a moment rummaging – Cunning finds exactly what he’s looking for – a gas can and a lighter. He again thrusts the mic painfully into Aaron’s face
(JB) Son of a bitch!
(Tom) I prefer my Reaper Barbequed!
(Trevor) Trevor is going to as you one more time, Lenny – can Trevor have a title shot?
(The Reaper) Hell No!
(Trevor) Give Trevor what Trevor wants, Lenny!
(The Reaper) (BEEP) You!
(Trevor) Your funeral… pyre.
Cunning climbs in the ring and opens the gas can. He begins pouring the rank liquid all over the Reaper – soaking Aarons’ hair and clothing.
(Trevor) You know, Lenny – it’s not the gasoline itself that’s combustible. Only the vapors are.
So you won’t catch on fire – at first. First – the air will ignite and fill your lungs – singe your hair and your eyes.
(JB) Will someone in the back come help? Anyone? Refs? Buchanan? Somebody please!
(Tom) Zo ain’t coming, Mann-hole! Zo ain’t coming!
(Trevor)Only after you’re in hell does your skin start to burn, crackle and bubble away.
Cunning ignites the lighter.
(Tom) Zo ain’t coming! Zo ain’t coming!
(Trevor) One. Last. Chance. Lenny.
Does Trevor get what Trevor wants?
(Tom) Zo ain’t coming!
(JB) But Mike Stryker is!
Before Cunning can set the Reaper ablaze – the NAFW’s Atlantic Champion enters the ring and takes Cunning down with a violent lariat. The Godfather scrambles to his feet, only to eat a right cross from the Big City Hit Man. Two more rights and Cunning’s back is against the ropes. Stryker runs in with a knee to the midsection, doubling the former FHC over.
Stryker sprints across the ring and picks up the Foundation Heavyweight Championship belt. Feet shuffling faster than Ali ever hoped to be – Stryker rushes across and flattens Cunning – sending him spiraling over the top rope and to the outside. Cunning clutches his nose, scooting backwards up the ramp on his ass like a dog in heat on shag carpeting.
(JB) Thank Gord for Mike Stryker!
(Tom) Gord damnit.
Foundation Heavyweight Championship in hand – Stryker heads back to the center of the ring – where Cunning’s barbeque lighter is still burning, threatening to set the ring ablaze.
He scoops up the lighter, but doesn’t extinguish it. Mike Stryker stands in the center of the ring – holding the Foundation Heavyweight Championship in one hand and Cunning’s lighter in the other.
He looks up at the Reaper.
(JB) Uh… Bear.
(Tom) Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
(JB) I certainly hope not.
Cunning gets back to his feet. The lights go out.
(Tom) Uh… Mann-Wheel?
(JB) Ladies and Gentlemen – don’t adjust your television sets. We appear to be having some kind of power ou… ou… oh my God!
OH MY GOD!
From the darkness shines a bright beacon – illuminating the lost like a lighthouse in an ocean bay at midnight.
The monk who burned himself to death to make a political statement – it took months of intense therapy for this man to tune out the pain – the smell – the involuntary reaction flame inspires in flesh.
Leonard Aarons has not undergone this same process. His introduction to pyromania – to flesh burning, to blood boiling because of the heat, to air igniting in his lungs… was sudden, immediate, unexpected.
(Tom) I didn’t think Stryker had it in him!
(JB) I didn’t think that Mike Stryker was so despicable!
(Tom) Only if despicable means awesome!
After an immediate eternity – the lights in the arena return to full intensity. The ring fills with fire extinguisher smoke. Trevor Cunning stands on the ramp, mouth agape, smiling slightly, eyes wide in equal parts shock and elation.
Standing in the middle of the ring, holding a lighter and the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, with a look of indifference on his face is the Big City Hit Man.
Mike F’n Stryker.
COMMERCIAL
Charred
Chaos.
The best word to describe the scene backstage after what just took place in the ring would be Chaos.
On a gurney being wheeled into an ambulance is one Leonard Aarons, your new NAFW champion who just spent the last few seconds as the sole source of illumination for the TD BankNorth garden. Someone lit him on fire, this much is certain. Who and why, however, is not. Hence…chaos.
Trevor Cunning, the man who supplied all of the necessary items to light your Foundation Champion ablaze, is being held back by security, screaming obscenities laced with Jack Daniels. The man who had every intention of setting Aarons on fire would be a logical suspect #1…but he wasn’t near Aarons when the spark was lit. Why not? Well…
Across from him, screaming obscenities not laced with Jack Daniels, is Mike Stryker, the man who was in the ring with Aarons when the bright lights died so suddenly. Ironically, Stryker was only in the ring to prevent Cunning from setting another man on fire, chasing him from the ring right before the mysterious blackout.
One man is burned, one man had intent, another man had opportunity, but with the lights being out when they were, anyone COULD have gotten to Aarons.
The unfortunate man in the middle of this entire disaster is the NAFW’s resident Jefe, Ray Buchanan. As security keeps both Stryker and Cunning at bay from each other, Buchanan’s raised voice cuts through all the obscenities, alcoholic or otherwise.
(Buchanan) What the HELL happened out there?!?!? SOMEONE better start talking. Or. Else!
Both Stryker and Cunning stop screaming at each other long enough to look at Buchanan quizzically. If one of them knows anything, they’re not spilling the beans. Buchanan turns squarely to his Atlantic Champion, Mike Stryker, for the first interrogation.
(Buchanan) You can’t tell me you don’t know anything. Hell Mike, you were the only one in the ring with Aaron when the lights went out.
Stryker’s look is somewhere between “disbelief” and “are you effing kidding me?”.
(Buchanan) You better tell me what happened RIGHT NOW!!
(Stryker) You…..You think I DID this?!?
(Buchanan) You were in the ring Mike, I’m not stupid. If you didn’t do it, you damn sure know who did.
(Stryker) The lights went out, I couldn’t see anything. And if you really DO think I did this, then you can go (Beep) yourself pal.
The crowd gives a classic “OOOHHHHHHH” as Stryker curses out his boss, who is NOT amused.
(Stryker)You better have some kind of proof before you go accusing me of this. I don’t have to explain myself to you, you pompous piece of (Beep)!!!
Another “OOOHHHHHHH” and another spike in the blood pressure and adrenaline of Ray Buchanan sets things off.
(Buchanan) You better watch your mouth when you talk to me. You know what, forget that, YOU CAN WATCH YOUR MOUTH FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! YOU’RE DONE TONIGHT!!
Stryker flips out, struggling against the half a dozen security guards holding him back to get at Buchanan. Security proves to be too much though, as Stryker is dragged off camera, screaming the whole way. Cunning, in the meanwhile, has stopped fighting and is now standing behind Buchanan, waving good-bye to his nemesis.
(Buchanan) You What are YOU smiling about?
(Trevor) Moi? Nothing, really. You know, Ray Ray – I think that I’ve been too hard on you. Tonight, you proved that you’re a man of true integrity with excellent decision making skills. I for one think…
(Buchanan) Enough.
Cunning and his brown nosing smile somehow don’t sucker Buchanan in.
(Buchanan) Trevor, I got news for you. See, the only reason I didn’t toss you out on your ass tonight is because now I need a replacement for Stryker. And since I need someone right away… get your ass to the ring. You’re filling in.
Buchanan storms away from a shocked Trevor Cunning as we zoom in on his face while fading to the ring.
(JB) Our thoughts and prayers are with the Reaper, Lorenzo, and the rest of their extended family.
(Tom) Your thoughts and prayers might be with Aarons, but my thoughts and prayers are with Trevor Cunning!
(JB) Why oh Why, pre tell?
(Tom) Mike Stryker, that raging lunatic, lights someone on fire and now Trevor has to wrestle without even being given the opportunity to stretch! He could pull a muscle!
(JB) God forbid.
Scott Rocker vs. Trevor Cunning
STOMP STOMP CLAP!
STOMP STOMP CLAP!
(Tom) When’s the last time you had a rock-gasm, Mann-wheel!
(JB) A man was just set on fire, right in front of you – and all you can do is make lewd and suggestive comments?
(Tom) Hey, we all deal with our grief differently!
(JB) That is so disrespectful.
(Tom) I think I just rock-gasmed right now.
Scott Rocker steps out on to the ramp and begins swinging his arm in the air, strumming his air guitar and banging his head in time to the music; long, greasy hair whipping around him.
The stomps and the claps grow louder and louder as Rocker heads towards the ring. Clad in leather pants, a denim vest, and an American Flag bandana – the only way Scott Rocker would be more bad ass would be if a bald eagle land on his skull, opened its beak, and shot fireworks into the crowd.
Now that is badass.
(JB) Now, folks, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention a former NAFW great in the crowd tonight…
(Tom) Right, I was being disrespectful.
(JB) You were.
(Tom) I was just rock-gasming!
(JB) Now as I was saying…
(Tom) You’re going to ignore Trevor Cunning’s entrance!
(JB) I refuse to acknowledge that son of a bitch after what he did tonight!
(Tom) What he did? Mann-Wagon, that was all Stryker’s fault!
(JB) Ladies and Gentlemen – Vincent Yun Chang is with us tonight.
While Tool’s Sober plays over the public address – the NAFW-Tron cuts to NAFW All Time Great VYC – who stands and waives to the audience. Tonight, Chang eschews his normal garish, controversial garb for a slender pin-stripe suit with matching pastel shirt and tie.
In the aisle – Trevor Cunning stands, staring at the big screen, even more shocked than when Leonard Aarons was set ablaze.
By the time we cut away from VYC, Cunning is in the ring, microphone in hand. He’s still in his street clothes: jeans, NAFW-brand polo and designer dress shoes.
(Trevor) Everything that could gone wrong tonight – has. I go through the trouble of trapping the Reaper in a corner… both literally and figuratively – and not only do I… not only does Trevor not get what Trevor wants: the Foundation Heavyweight Championship – he doesn’t even get the pleasure of lighting the match that ends the Reaper’s reign for good.
(Tom) What a hero.
(Trevor) So now Trevor’s got all this frustration built up… all this anger… and he needs some release.
(Tom) Speaking of release, Mann-wheel – how’s your mother?
(Trevor) So tonight, all of Trevor’s frustration is focused on one man…
(Tom) Poor Scott Rocker.
(JB) Do you ever shut up? Does Cunning ever shut up?
Cunning steps into the center of the ring, removes his polo, and points right at…
(Trevor) Vee Why See. Ring the damn bell
Before Scott Rocker can remove his badass bandana or awesome denim vest, Cunning buries a heavy knee in Rocker’s midsection. He then drops to his knees, takes Rocker over with a fireman’s carry, floats over, and locks in a front chancery. Never once does Cunning let go of his mic. He knees Rocker in the top of the skull and watches as Rocker tumbles back ass over elbows. Cunning waits for Rocker to pull himself up in the corner before charging in with a Stinger Splash. Cunning drops straight down, pushes Rocker back into the corner, and chops him. Hard.
(Trevor)Whoooo!
Another chop.
(Trevor) Whooooo!
A third, heavy chop.
(Trevor) This is what I do, Vinny. I beat the holy hell out of people. While you ran away from Ultimate Showdown – apparently your testicles never fell after you taped up for one of your cute, little drag shows – I was here, becoming Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
Cunning next sits Rocker on the top rope, leaps to the second, wraps his arms around Rocker, and falls backwards, tossing him into the center of the ring. He immediately leaps to his feet and spins, arms extended in celebration.
(Trevor) So why are you here, Vinny? I thought you lost your fighting spirit eh, shogun?
Rocker stumbles to his feet, just in time for Cunning to scoop him up on his shoulder, flip him around, and issue a Sobriety Test.
The three is academic.
Before the referee can even step in to raise his hand, Cunning is through the ropes and to the floor.
(Trevor) So why are you back, Mistah Vee. Why. See?
Cunning gets right in VYC’s face. He knocks the hat off of Chang’s skull and to the floor.
(Trevor) Did you blow all your money on coke and under-aged Thai boys? Do you need to raise some cash for one of those Venezuelan operations we all know is taking place but don’t really talk about?
Are you going to be Vanessa soon?
Or are you just a good old attention whore like yours truly?
(JB) That’s the first thing he’s said all night that’s made a lick of sense.
(Tom) Speaking of whores, Mann-Wheel…
(Trevor) Maybe, and I’m stretching things here… you finally decided to man up and do what you say you do best – fight.
Cunning jabs his finger into VYC’s chest with each successive word.
(Trevor) Well, Mistah Vee Why See… if that’s the case, why don’t you and Trevor have yourselves a little fight?
(JB) Does he really have to challenge everybody?
(Tom) He’s got a point, Mann-Hole!
(JB) VYC just came to see his friends, to watch some good wrestling! He didn’t come to be harassed!
Cunning rears back and slaps Chang as hard as he possibly can across the face. The handprint rises on Chang’s face almost immediately.
(Tom) Uh oh! He just got served!
(JB) Oh it’s on now!
(Tom) Totally!
VYC pulls his tie loose, rolls up his sleeves, cracks his neck and… turns and leaves. Cunning hops back in the ring to get a better view as Chang leaves through the crowd.
(Trevor)What’s the matter, Vinny? Can’t handle a little confrontation? Or are you running away because we didn’t establish a safe word first?
C’mon Vinny!
VINNY!
C’MON VINNY!
(JB) Alright. Let’s cut backstage.... I… I’ve had enough.
A Monetary Proposal
Mike Castleberry the X-Treme Champion is seen walking backstage. Passing a few groups of selected people. When one of them turns and stops him. It is non other than Charles ‘Tharodund’ Johnson.
(Charles) Hey, Mike how are you doing tonight? Never mind that, I need to talk to you about something. You see you have something I have had my eye on for a long, long time. I am going to give you a proposal, and let you think it over.
Johnson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a nice medium to large size roll of hundreds and twenties. He then holds it up and out of Castleberry’s reach. He grins as he then looks down at the title around his wait.
(Charles) How about a nice large sum of cash, and you just hand over the X-Treme title to me, and nobody would have to know what exactly happened. You get a nice fat paycheck, and a little bonus on the side if you step away from having a ‘Rematch” for it.
Johnson taunts Castleberry by waving the cash in from of his face. After a few seconds Johnson tucks it back away, and turns and starts to walk away. He stops after about five steps.
(Charles) I’ll give you ‘til next week to give me your answer, and I hope you make the right one.
Johnson then walks away.
COMMERCIAL
Bling Bling
We fade back in from commercial and we’re backstage at the double doors leading to the parking lot. Two generic security guards hold the double doors wide open. Seconds later, a white stretch limo pulls up. The driver scurries around and opens the rear passenger side door. A set of female legs drops to the concrete first. The camera follows the legs until they reveal a short skirt. The camera man pulls back and shows Melissa Hayes. Of course following her out of the limo is none other than “The Difference Maker” Keith Owens. He steps out of the vehicle in a white suit, with the Tag Team Championship around his waist (partially concealed by the suit jacket), and another title belt slung over his shoulder.
The camera zooms in on the face plate of the giant gold belt which reads “NAFW Grand Slam Champion: Keith Owens”
Keith slowly strolls into the arena with Ms. Hayes on his arm, and we cut away from here.
(JB) Well it looks like Keith Owens has decided to show up. Just a little late considering what happened at the beginning of the show with Cunning and Reaper.
(Tom) Did you see the size of his Grand Slam Championship? That thing was huge!
(JB) Yeah I know, that’s…
(Tom) THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!
(JB) You can’t “That’s what she said” yourself Bear.
(Tom) I just did.
(JB) I wonder if Owens has any idea what transpired here earlier tonight?
(Tom) Of course not! He just got here! Right? …Right?
The Debut Interview
We are in the back where John Mills is standing by with the Xtreme Icon Peter Gilmour and his lovely girlfriend Ashley Marie.
(John) I’m here with a newcomer to the NAFW, the Xtreme Icon Peter Gilmour. Peter, welcome to the NAFW.
Peter looks at John intently as Ashley Marie wraps her arms around Peter’s body.
(John) Err, ok. Tonight you face Charles Johnson. Do you think that you are overlooking Charles, and you’re just here to capture the world title?
(Peter) What kind of a stupid question is that? Did you go to broadcasting school? My god, are you some sort of idiot? But anyways, to answer your stupid question, I’m not overlooking Charles Johnson. I never overlook my opponents. When I get ready for a match, all I think about is inflicting so much pain on them, that they will have to get medical insurance after the beating they receive. So tonight, I show these morons in the NAFW why they call me The HUMANKILLER, the Xtreme Icon Peter Gilmour.
(John) Fair enough. Ashley, a question for you. Do you think with the level of competition here that Peter may have bitten off more then he can chew?
Ashley looks at John with an evil stare. She seems pissed off.
(Ashley) My man thrives on competition. The NAFW may be a tough place for me and Peter to fit in, but mark my words John, we will make the NAFW our own little playground. We will destroy everyone and anyone who comes into our path. And when all is said and done, Peter will become the NAFW World Champion. Now as for Charles Johnson...
Ashley looks directly into the camera.
(Ashley) Tonight you will see what pain is all about after my man destroys you and leaves you a broken and bloody mess.
(Peter) Charles Johnson, prepare to be taken... TO THE XTREEMMMMME!!! Are we done here?
John nods. Peter pushes John into a wall and walks off.
Cut
Who’s Got Bigger Balls?
We open this scene in one of those hallways that litter the backstage area and can always be found with some Wrestling Superstar walking down it on his way to either the ring or to their locker room or some other place they need to be. This particular hallway at this particular time has Andy D walking down it having just entered the building, with his back of things slung over his shoulder. What he has in the bag is up for debate since Andy has come here wearing what he usually wrestles in. It doesn’t take long before Andy stops walking down the hallway and glares at someone up ahead. The camera pans around to find a thorn in Andy’s side recently, Snake.
(Snake) Hello Andy.
(Andy) Snake, I thought you were dead. In fact I was already to send a wreath for your funeral when I realised I hated your guts. So I went out and got drunk celebrating instead.
(Snake) If you’re thinking on quitting your job to become a comedian you might want to come up with some better material. Something remotely funny would be a start.
(Andy) So any reason why you’re standing around? Has your only ball not shown up?
(Snake) Wilson is in the locker room preparing for the match. I just thought you and I should have a little chat.
(Andy) Last time you wanted to chat I distinctly remember it being with your hands around my throat.
(Snake) That might be true, but Crazy Boy will do much worse to you now.
(Andy) What are you talking about?
(Snake) He’ll blame you. For not getting the championship, for letting him get beat up. For every cut and bruise he suffered, every kick and punch he received. He will blame it all on you. Just like he blamed me.
(Andy) Are you trying to recruit me or something?
(Snake) Crazy Boy clearly cannot be trusted. He blames others for all the mistakes he’s made. He’s the true weak link, not you.
(Andy) CB may not be trusted, but you take orders for a piece of sports equipment. I think I’ll stick with the more sane of you two.
Andy takes off, walking past Snake and onwards to where he was going in the first place.
(Snake) Tsk, tsk...He forgets that Wilson has bigger balls than Crazy Boy...
With that, Snake lets off a slight chuckle as the scene comes to a close.
Peter Gilmour vs. Charles Johnson
(JB) This should be an interesting match up here.
(Tom) Why? Sounds pretty yawn-riffic to me.
(JB) Didn’t you pay attention earlier? Johnson tried to buy the X-Treme Championship from Castleberry earlier! And of course we just heard from Peter Gilmour about taking things to the extreme.
(Tom) Yeah, to the extremes of boredom.
(JB) Whatever Bear, I’m excited.
Peter Gilmour waits in the ring with his girlfriend Ashley Marie.
“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, and behind him emerge two masked men in suits. 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.
The match is a pretty standard affairs, but notably both men try to employ dirty tactics against one another. Peter Gilmour makes a big impression at first, surprising CJ by taking him down with several big moves. Johnson has to roll to the outside to recover and his hired goons protect him from any potential attacks from Gilmour. Johnson stalls for much of the match, trying to lure Gilmour into making a rookie mistake out of frustration. Gilmour holds strong and just as it seems like he’s gaining some momentum, one of Johnson’s goons gets on the apron. The ref scolds him as the second bodyguard hands Johnson a golf club from under the ring. At this point, Ashley Marie inadvertently buys Johnson more time by hopping on the apron to try and tell the ref to turn around. Johnson takes advantage of this and nails Gilmour in the groin with a nine iron before handing it back to his second goon. As the debuting wrestling is doubled over, CJ nails the Corporate Coup stalling brainbuster, and covers him for the pin. The referee turns around and gives him a slow three count for the win.
(JB) Johnson’s new body guards seem to have given him the edge over newcomer Peter Gilmour. Tom… Why are you grabbing your groin.
(Tom) That shot to Gilmour’s balls hurt mine… That was simply vicious.
(JB) Better luck next time to Gilmour.
(Tom) If he doesn’t need a week or two off to rest his loins…
Bang Bang
(JB) And we’re cutting backstage where apparently Hush is here in the arena!
As the backstage scene opens up. Hush is tearing through the backstage area. He’s toppling scaffolding, equipment boxes. It’s chaos!
(McJohnson) Stop! Stop right there!
It’s Ryan McJohnson and his security force on the scene, trying to stop the rampage of Hush.
(JB) Hush fell to Mike Stryker at Death Wish in a Last Man Standing match, but its clear Hush is back on his feet tonight.
(Tom) Back on his feet? He’s destroying everything in sight!
McJohnson signals a group of about five security guards to press forward against Hush as he stands back with two other guards. They approach him swinging batons but they don’t have any affect on the monster.
(Tom) Jesus! He just threw that guy literally INTO the wall! There goes another one through the table!
(JB) He’s out of control! Where is his keeper Essex?
(Tom) Probably sitting at home in a neck brace after those piledrivers he took from Stryker!
After the first five security guards go down, McJohnson and his other two men decide to retreat as they sure as hell aren’t going to stop the monster.
(Tom) McJohnson is retreating!
(JB) And he’s a smart man for doing that!
COMMERCIAL
Spilled Coffee
We come up from black to see an H3 sitting on gold rims pull up in front of the arena. The tinted windows block our view of the driver but the door swings open and out steps Ashley Collier. Collier is dressed down, wearing nothing more than a black and gold track suit with the white head phones of his I-pod. Collier tosses the keys to some acne-faced middle aged dude who is sitting in that shitty little booth all the Valet parkers sit in.
(Ashley) Park it somewhere close.
Ashley slips the guy twenty bucks, reaches into the passenger side rear door, removes his bag, and then marches into the building.
The camera angle shifts from outside to inside and a large steel door opens and Ashley steps through it. He walks down the halls with his head raised high in confidence. He throws a few winks and smiles at some lovely interns before he turns a corner and runs straight into an older looking African American fellow who has two handfuls of coffee. The scolding hot coffee splashes right onto Ashley's shirt.
(Ashley) You old ass mother (BEEP), why don't you go get some glasses so you can see where you are going!
(Older Man) I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to do that, let me help you get that spot out.
The old man starts wiping at Collier's chest with some paper towels, but it is futile. The coffee has already stained the white shirt underneath the track suit.
(Ashley) Just get the hell away from me you old bastard.
The old man just starts to smile for some reason and that makes Ashley a little mad.
(Ashley) What in the (BEEP) are you smiling about?
The old man extends his hand and points over Ashley's shoulder to someone walking down the hall. Ashley slowly turns around and runs right into the massive body of one Sebastian Hawke.
(Sebastian) Hey Dad, what are you doing talking to this bum?
Ashley turns around and looks over Sebastian's Dad then he looks back over Sebastian.
(Ashley) I should have known better. Only an old piece of (BEEP) like this could spawn a piece of sh(beep) like you, Hawke.
Hawke lashes out at Collier trying to grab him, but Ashley ducks behind Sebastian's dad.
(Sebastian's Dad) This isn't the place for this, son.
Ashley slowly backs away from the scene, laughing under his breath as he does so, but we know Ashley... he can't leave without the last word.
(Ashley) You better listen to your dad, Sebastian, before I knock you both the (BEEP) out.
Out.
(JB) It seems that perhaps Collier was targeting Hawke at Death Wish.
(Tom) What are you talking about? It’s pure coincidence, but Hawke better watch himself after his dad screwed things up for him tonight.
Pointing Fingers
We open this segment inside a locker room with Andy D finishing to get ready for his upcoming match. It’s not a quite time when Andy’s tag team partner comes barging into the locker room, looking for a conversation.
(Crazy Boy) Andy, we need to talk
(Andy) Sure, what about?
(Crazy Boy) We need to patch up a few things after three wishes. You know, work out all these problems we’ve got since you lost us the match
(Andy) Ok, so what did you…
Andy stops mid sentence when he finally listens and comprehends exactly what Crazy Boy actually said to him
(Andy) What do you mean, I lost us the match?
(Crazy Boy) Well do you see the tag titles around my waist?
(Andy) No but…
(Crazy Boy) No you don’t. You were supposed to be helping me win and you didn’t do that
(Andy) Really, I didn’t do that? Who stopped TFK from getting the belts and ending the match early with a crossbody taking out the ladder and all three of us? Who got the crowed to pelt Leonard Aarons with shoes? Who used every ounce of strength left to try and stop said Aarons from getting the last wish?
(Crazy Boy) And yet you didn’t stop him
(Andy) I didn’t see you around trying to stop him? In fact what did you do in the match, watch me do all the work for you?
(Crazy Boy) No, I was trying to get the titles like you should have
(Andy) Well you did a good job at that didn’t you! You know, maybe Snake was right, maybe it’s you who’s the weakest link in the Wild Boys, and in this team too
(Crazy Boy) You’re taking the side of Snake? Are you going to go team up with him now?
(Andy) With that nutjob, hell no. But I tell you what I will do. I’m going out there and I’ll beat Snake myself, proving I’m the best in this team.
(Crazy Boy) You’d never get it done, How about you stand around doing nothing and I’ll beat Snake myself.
(Andy) So what, whomever beats Snake truly is the best in this team?
(Crazy Boy) That’ll be me
(Andy) Then let’s go kick Snake’s ass
And with that, Crazy Boy and Andy head out of the locker room and towards their match with Snake and Wilson fully prepared.
Divide and Conquer
(JB) I’ve just received word that there is yet ANOTHER disturbance backstage tonight! This time its not Cunning, Stryker, OR Hush!
(Tom) Sounds like fun.
We "kick it" backstage to see an interesting image. There is a man laying on the cold concrete, writhing in pain. There is a man standing above the writhing man holding a steel pipe, and talking trash. The standing man is none other than Dustin Thomas of the Old School Empire, and the laying man is none other than NAFW Original Mike Lane.
(JB) What the hell?
(Tom) Looks like I need to put some money on the Empire tonight.
Dustin looks over to see the camera, and he shakes his head, gesturing towards the camera man.
(Dustin) What the hell are you doing?
We don't see the man who answers, but his voice is recognized as Shane Thomas, Dustin's brother and partner in crime. So to speak.
(Shane) We need to let the world see the mighty Mike Lane cower beneath our feet.
(Dustin) Just like he cowered in the corner while he watched Aarons take "his" title. How pathetic...
Dust reaches down and grabs the groggy Lane's head, and pulls it up. He maneuvers it to look directly into the camera as it shakily zooms in.
(Shane) Say hi to mom!
Dustin holds the face there, and then lets him drop back to the concrete.
(Dustin) One NAFW Original down, and one to go. Spaz, you're next to feel our wrath, cause the Empire always strikes back!
Dust reaches into his pocket, and produces a lolly-pop. He puts it in his mouth, and gives a thumbs up to the camera.
(Dustin) Let's get out of here, bro. We have a match to get ready for.
(Shane) You said it!
The Alpha throws the camera down with a thud, and it magically captures the image of Lane laying on the concrete, eyes closed, and looking like he's done.
(JB) Ladies and gentlemen, Mike Lane went through hell at Three Wishes, and tonight it's just gotten worse.
(Tom) That's what happens when you talk trash all the time, you get punked out.
(JB) Someone needs to tell Spaz what happened.
Crazy Boy and Andy D vs. Snake and Wilson
(Tom) I think someone needs to tell Snake that Wilson isn’t a person… he’s a friggin’ volleyball.
(JB) I don’t think that’s a correct assumption. Just look at Wilson’s “attire” tonight…
This is essentially a rematch from Death Wish. During entrances, Snake brings the picture of Crazy Boy being pinned by Wilson down to the ring with him. After the events that transpired earlier in the night, Andy is out to prove he's better than Crazy Boy and he's firing on all cylinders trying to take Snake out himself. Snake is in for a beating as not only does Andy D take out his frustrations with Crazy Boy out on Snake, but Andy D takes his frustrations on Snake out on Snake. During the match, Snake feels the heat of not being able to tag in his partner. The times he tries to, the referee begins to count to get Snake out of the ring, causing Snake to have to tag himself back in. He bears this burden with no complaints toward Wilson, who has “changed costumes” from a volleyball to a water polo ball this week. On the other side of the ring, Andy D and Crazy Boy tag themselves in and out quite frequently with blind tags that are unwanted by the legal man in an effort to one-up the other. Perhaps they let Snake’s mind games get to his head. In the end, Andy D picks up the victory with a Dragon’s Bite shining wizard on Snake. As Andy D is pumped up for pinning Snake, Crazy Boy just glares at him, then exits the ring and walks away without looking back.
(Tom) Wilson must be angry for not being allowed to receive much action in this match, right JB?
(JB) That’s right! And you can get your very own replica Wilson from the Merchandise section on TheNAFW.Com!
(Tom) Oi.
(JB) But on a serious note, Crazy Boy did not seem happy with Andy D picking up the win tonight.
(Tom) Can you blame him? Andy D only fights when he really feels like it. Tonight he looks good putting down Snake, but next week he might phone it in if him and Crazy Boy get Tag Team title shots.
(JB) Sounds like those two still have a lot to talk about.
Crush Crush
Fade in to the interview area backstage. Standing by is Rick Priestly with the NAFW’s very own “Difference Maker.” Cue the boos from the crowd inside the arena.
(Rick) Keith, last night at Death Wish, you and Trevor won the epic Three Wishes match to become the Tag Team Champions. You had a slight advantage over Trevor in climbing the ladder to grab the belts. Why did you let Trevor take the Foundation Heavyweight Championship?
(Keith) Great question Rick. Sometimes in life you have to learn to be generous. After helping Trevor keep that belt for a month, it seemed like it would be wrong to just take it from him like that. I mean, winning Three Wishes was all I needed to become a Grand Slam Champion, and Trev needed something to else to keep his spirits up.
(Rick) Then how do you feel about “The Reaper” cashing in his Wish to get a title shot right then and there against Cunning, and him walking away with the title too?
(Keith) It was an unfortunate turn of events. I was giving Trevor his moment in the spotlight, and “The Reaker” had to go ruin that for him. I tried to give Trev a helping hand again, but I was just bombarded by people offering their congratulations backstage, and by the time I knew that match was going on, I was just a half second too late.
(Rick) So the Wish you two won, I assume that won’t be going for Trevor’s rematch considering you were conspicuously absent when he tried to use it at the start of the show?
(Keith) Negatory, Ricky. We’ll both use that Wish when the time is right.
(Rick) Keith, I saw you walking around the arena earlier today. What was with that second entrance of yours you just had earlier in the show? Where were you when Leonard Aarons was light ablaze in the middle of the ring.
(Keith) You must be mistaken Rick. I just got here.
(Rick) There’s only one man here in a white suit carrying two championship titles.
(Keith) Why don’t you ask me about my Grand Slam Championship belt then?
Priestly looks nervous as he stares back past Keith’s head at something. Keith decides to keep running his mouth anyway.
(Keith) I decided a true champion like me needed this belt after winning the big four, that is, the Tag titles, the Intercontinental title before it was rechristened the Atlantic title, the X-Treme title, and of course the Foundation Heavyweight title. This belt here is made of eighteen karat gold. This thing is a higher quality gold than the Foundation Heavyweight Championship itself! I figured I deserved the best since I am the best. I gave the term Grand Slam Champion some meaning again after…
Rick drops his microphone and slowly backs away. Keith, bewildered, turns around, and to his surprise, HUSH is standing there just inches away from him.
The live audience pops big for the surprise.
The expression on Keith’s face can best be described as “scared shitless” as Hush is back on his feet after losing that Last Man Standing match.
Keith backs up two steps and Hush steps forward one – and they’re still face to face. Hush reaches at Keith and grabs his Grand Slam Championship. He holds it up and examines it like he knows how to read before he grabs it with his second hand and SNAPS it in half, right down the middle of the title plate. He drops it at the feet of Owens before pushing him aside with ease and walking away, probably to continue his path of destruction elsewhere.
Keith is speechless as he drops to his knees and picks up the pieces of his custom championship belt.
(JB) MY GAWD! Hush just snapped that championship belt in HALF!
(Tom) That was almost pure gold! Hush is out of control! He owes Keith a new belt!
(JB) Maybe Keith should have thought twice about what he said when he ran into Hush at the Pay Per View? Who knows!
COMMERCIAL
Nicky Cot Chumped
Cut backstage to the locker room of the NAFW Originals. Inside is one of three people who you might expect to be there. Now, you already know (assuming you were paying attention earlier) that one half of the Originals has been the victim of an assault by the Old School Empire. So that leaves two choices. I'll skip the part where you guess, and just tell you that the room's current occupant is the other half of the Originals (and if you ask him, the better half): The one and only Sean Thomas, best known in the Foundation and around the world as Spaz.
The Sugar Junky is sitting calmly on the bench, with a towel draped over his shoulders, and the light sheen of wetness reflecting in his hair. If smell could be transmitted through television, the (hopefully) familiar aromas of soap and shampoo would permeate your living room as they do Spaz's current surroundings.
Sean's peace is broken when the door bursts open to reveal the one other person you'd expect to be around the Originals' locker room, given the aforementioned attack on Mike Lane.
(Twitch) PEZ!!
Spaz, thrown out of his pre-match routine, looks up sharply and meets his manager's frantic gaze.
(Spaz) What is it Twitch?
For a moment, it looks as if Twitch has something important to say. He draws in a deep breath through his nose, and is about to spill it, when his face curls up in disgust.
(Twitch) What the hell is that stench?
Spaz takes in a breath, and shrugs.
(Spaz) It's called soap. Zest, to be exact. You know, "you're not fully clean unless you're..."
(Twitch) Smelling like that? If that's fully clean, Twitch'll do just fine with partly clean! Besides, why did Pez shower before his match? Doesn't make sense to Twitch.
Spaz frowns, recalling having bumped into The Mexican Toiletries (or LAX-itives, or whatever they're calling themselves these days) earlier. That experience pretty much always requires an immediate shower. Two or three if you actually have a match with them.
(Spaz) I just did. Now, what was it that you came bursting in here for?
Twitch grabs his nose with a thumb and forefinger to block out the fresh scent of Zest. Only when he's satisfied he's blocked the smell does he reply.
(Twitch) Nicky cot chumped!
Don't worry fans, that doesn't make sense to Spaz, either. He looks at Twitch with a combination of confusion and annoyance.
(Spaz) Since I have no idea who Nicky is, what "cot chumped" means, or why he or she would have done it, I think you need to unplug your nose and say that again.
Fun fact: "Chumped" is defined on dictionary.com as "To chew or make a chewing movement." So, bad grammar notwithstanding, "Nicky cot chumped" would basically be saying that Nicky chewed a cot.
Anyway... In reply to Spaz's suggestion, Twitch shakes his head.
(Twitch) Mo gan boo!
Spaz stands up, and in the same motion takes a step toward Twitch. The manager can see the look in Spaz's eyes... Twitch easily discerns that if he doesn't move his hand, it's about to be moved for him. He quickly takes in a deep breath through his mouth and removes the finger and thumb.
(Twitch) Micky got jumped!
Finally getting the news is not particularly relieving for Spaz. Finding out that your tag team partner's been attacked is not so much with the relief. Spaz keeps moving toward Twitch, who takes a step to the side, hoping to avoid his unrelieved employer.
(Spaz) Why didn't you just say that in the first place!?
Spaz doesn't even stop to toss the towel off of his shoulder. He rushes by his manager and out the door. Twitch turns and sticks his head out into the hall, calling after Spaz.
(Twitch) Maybe Twitch would have if it didn't smell so bad in here!!
He turns back into the room and gets another whiff of soap. He actually breathes in deeply and... Smiles? Then sings?
(Twitch) "Twitch ain't fully clean unless Twitch is Zest-fully clean!"
Twitch walks over to the wall, grabs a towel and heads toward the showers. That's where we cut.
(JB) Typical Twitch! Messing around, when it's time to be serious! Mike Lane could be hurt, and he's playing games?
(Tom) I just wish he'd stop referring to everyone in the third person.
Knocking You Both The Fuck Out: Part I
Our scene comes up to the locker-room. Sebastian Hawke and his father are having a conversation the in the dimly lit room but the audio goes unheard by the cameras. A handshake and then a quick embrace are exchanged before Sebastian walks out the door of the room. Hawke's father moves over to a steel chair sitting on the floor in front of a monitor. He takes a seat and relaxes, because his son's match is up next.
That is when a loud crash echoes from the bathroom. Hawke's father is curious so he heads in that direction. He opens the gray steel door and his jaw gets introduced to Ashley Collier's brass knuckle wearing fist.
The elder Hawke drops faster than an obese kid with asthma running a mile in gym class. He hits the cold concrete floor hard and his eyes have rolled back into his head. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and snot bubbles are actually coming out of his nostrils.
Collier stands over Sebastian's father with a sinister grin splashed across his features. He takes a knee and gets down so their faces are but mere centimeters apart.
(Ashley) I told you I was going to knock you the (BEEP) out.
Ashley clears his nostrils and then spits one big ole green loogie right into the face of Sebastian's father.
(Ashley) And your piece of (BEEP) son is next.
Out.
(JB) But Hawke’s match is next!
(Tom) Brilliant deduction Mannlock Holmes!
Hate To Say I Told You So
A hush falls over the crowd as the lights begin to dim in the arena, interviewer Amie Carmichael stands the center of the ring, clutching a microphone in her had, raising it to her lips to speak
(Amie) Ladies and gentlemen, the NEW NAFW X-Treme Champion: Mike Castleberry!
With that, "Die Dead Enough" by Megadeth cranks on the loudspeaker, the crowd cheering loudly for a man that only few days before risker his career to win the X-Treme championship. Castleberry steps from behind the curtains, his newly won title around his waist, already in his ring gear. He grins a bit as he walks to the ring, limping a bit from his batttle with Dan Stein. Although wounded, he still has the energy to hop over the top rope,then climb the turnbuckles. He stands on the 2nd rope, and unstraps his belt, raising it high over his head, to even louder cheers,before walking over to Amie, slinging the title over his shoulder, his music finally fading out.
(Amie) I wanted to congratulate you Mr. Castleberry, on behalf of the entire NAFW staff, as well as the fans at home, for what was nothing less than a hard fought, gutsy victory over Dan Stein at Death Wish... speaking of a death wish, you seemed to have one that night, pulling off one of the most dangerous stunts in NAFW history... tell us what was going through your mind that moment.
She gestures to the NAFW -tron, which shows a slow motion replay of Castleberry hitting a flipping leg drop off the NAFW-tron, onto Stein, through a table. Even Castlebery winces a bit as he watches the moment of impact.
(Mike) Jesus H. Christ, that NAFW-tron is a lot taller the you'd think once you climb it. In all honesty, there wasn't much going through my mind right then... namely because if I stopped to think... I probably would have talked myself out of doing it. Not to bad for a supposed has been though, huh? It really is a shame that Danny boy underestimate me though, ain't it. The kid just had to get on my bad side though, and where did it get him? Nowhere.... I mean, from the looks of it, I drove the poor kid out of the NAFW completely, since no one has seen or heard from him since death wish. Kind of sad really... kid was starting to grow on me, now it seems like I have nothing to occupy my time.
(Amie) Well, I doubt that you'll feel like that for long, since it looks like not one, but TWO men have their eye on your title tonight, the first being, obviously, your scheduled opponent tonight, Sebastian Hawke, but it also appears that Charles Johnson has taken an interest in your title as well. What do you have to say about that?
(Mike) Well Amie, I'm glad you aske, because it does seem like ol' Mike is Mr. Popular tonight. I mean not only do I get to defens my title, while not even fully recovered, but apparantly I got Ted Dibiase 2k7 hanging around too, hows that knee feeling anyway CJ? Hope you didn't take our last match personally.... it was just business after all. I had a point to proove, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it worked, I got the shot I wanted, and took advantage of it. I mean, I hate to say I told you so to everyone, but, I told you so. I said from day one that this was going to be my year, and low and behold, whos wearin' the gold? Man, you'd think people would learn not to count me out by now.
(Amie) Well, I don't think anyone ever will again, that's for sure, now, do you you have any words for your opponent tonight?
(Mike) Well Amie, I'm gonna keep it short and sweet: Hawke... I got nothing against ya... but, you're standing on the tracks, and the train is coming through.
With that, Amie leaves the ring and Castleberry hands his X-Treme Championship to the referee.
Sebastian Hawke vs. Mike Castleberry (XT)
X-Treme Rules
X-Treme Championship
Hawke, who has no idea what has just happened to his father, makes his entrance to a nice pop from the crowd. Some people chant Black Lesnar and Blackberg at him. However, Hawke is his own man… or maybe he’s Bobby Lashely… But chances are he’s not. This match is your typical knock down drag out affair. It starts slow with some standard wrestling. Hawke hits a big power move and then goes to the outside to bring the extreme to the champ with the typical assortment of goodies from underneath the ring. The two exchange blows with the weapons and brawl on the outside of the ring. Towards the end of the match, Castleberry knocks Hawke through the ropes and to the outside with a stop sign. Castleberry takes a moment to rile up the crowd while Hawke struggles to get up on his feet. That’s where we cut to the following…
Knocking You Both The Fuck Out: Part II
We hear some gasps as Ashley Collier jumps the barricade unbeknown to Sebastian Hawke. He has smirk on his face and brass knuckles adoring both of his clinch fists. He spreads his legs and squats slightly. He rubs his hands against his thighs with anticipation. He grins and motions for Sebastian to "come here" or "turn around" one of the other, take your pick.
Sebastian does turn around and boy let me tell you what, I bet he is really sorry he did. Ashley strikes him with a right jab, followed by a left jab, followed by another right jab. Sebastian is already staggering and then Collier hits a devastating left uppercut that probably just knocked Sebastian out, however, Ashley makes sure he goes down by throwing his deadly overhand right which connects with Hawke square in the jaw.
Sebastian takes a page from his father's book as his eyes roll back into his head and he crumples to the mat, completely unconscious.
Collier rolls his body back into the ring. Castleberry is unsure about how to respond to what just happened. The ref is unsure too, as he can’t call for a disqualification. Mike Castleberry somewhat reluctantly makes a simple lateral press cover and the referee makes a slow three count.
Ashley jumps up onto the ropes and calls for a mic and he his tossed one. Castleberry takes his belt and walks away before he gets sucked into the middle of their feud.
(Ashley) Sebastian Hawke, you just got...
Despite the crowd booing him, they can't help but join in the tail end of a catchphrase.
(Ashley) KNOCKED THE (BEEP) OUT!
The words are deafening and echo loudly throughout the halls of the arena. Collier raises his a brass knuckle wielding clinched fist in front of his face and stares down at the splatter of blood covering it. He raises it above his head as the boos now begin to resurface. He jumps backwards off the turnbuckle and lands on his feet. "The Second Coming" by Juelz Santana hits and Collier rolls underneath the ring ropes and leaves ringside.
COMMERCIAL
They'll Never See It Coming
Cut back to the Originals' locker room. This time, the room is empty. But not for long. The door swings open, revealing Spaz, who is helping his tag team partner into the room. Once again, the smell of soap and shampoo fills the room - just as strong, if not stronger than it was the last time we were here.
Lane is hobbling, his arm draped across Spaz's shoulders, with the smaller man carrying much of Mike's weight for him. They reach the bench and Lane leans back against the wall, his eyes closed in a wince of pain. Spaz frowns, empathizing with his partner's discomfort.
(Spaz) Our match is next.
Lane nods, and makes a move to stand up. Before he can get very far, he's halted by a hand upon his shoulder. A hand belonging to Spaz.
(Spaz) You're in no shape to go out there.
(Lane) I want a piece of them.
Lane starts to stand again, and this time almost gets there... Before his legs buckle beneath him and he is forced to sit back down. Spaz, hand still on Lane's shoulder, looks his partner in the eye.
(Spaz) Let me handle this one, Mike.
After a couple of seconds of silence, Lane concedes with a slight nod. Spaz steps back and starts to gather his gear. With a lighter tone in his voice, he addresses Lane again, as he puts on his trademark Ruby Oakley's.
(Spaz) Besides, with you as my partner I'm used to fighting on my own.
That gets a light laugh out of Lane, which comes out as almost more of a cough.
(Spaz) Now, where's that manager of ours?
An instant after the question was asked, Spaz wished he didn't have the answer in front of him. Standing in the entrance to the shower area, clad in only a towel (but thank Gord for that much!) is Twitch. Spaz frowns, smelling the Zest coming from Twitch's direction.
(Spaz) What happened to being fine with "partly clean?"
(Twitch) Twitch lied. Twitch lies a lot. Pez should know this by now.
Spaz sighs, opting to go back to the tried and true practice of ignoring his manager's antics.
(Spaz) Just be out there for the match.
Twitch shrugs and turns back toward the showers, as Spaz looks back to Lane.
(Spaz) I'm going to stop by Medical, to make sure someone comes to check on you... And grab something for this headache.
That last word was said with a look toward the showers, where Twitch is hopefully putting some clothes on. Spaz turns and makes his way to the door. Before leaving, he turns back to Lane.
(Spaz) I'm going to give them a beating they'll never see coming... But I'll be sure to leave a piece for you.
Lane smiles, Spaz takes his leave, and we're done here.
(JB) It looks like Spaz is going to take on the Old School Empire on his own!
(Tom) Which is just what Dustin and Shane wanted!
(JB) The Thomas Brothers may find they're getting more than they bargained for, Bear! If there's anyone that thrives on being the underdog, it's Spaz!
Steal Steal
We’re backstage once more, where Hush continues his slow but steady path of destruction that no one can seem to stop as he flips tables, breaks equipment, and costs the NAFW a lot in the way of fines from the arena.
Out of the shadows emerges Essex, Hush’s handler, wearing a neckbrace after the three piledrivers he took from Mike Stryker after the match at Death Wish.
(Essex) We’ve made our statement for tonight, monster. Now the whole world knows you can’t put Hush down for the count because he will rise again.
At the request of his keeper, Hush stops his path of destruction and the two turn to leave the arena leaving a trail of wreckage behind them.
(Keith) Hush! Hold it right there!
Hush and Essex both stop and turn around in their tracks, staring at Keith Owens a good twenty five yards down the hallway. Keith is obviously pissed that Hush destroyed his commemorative belt earlier in the night. Before anything more can be said or done, a door opens next to them and a familiar voice is heard.
(Melissa) Keith? Is that you?
It’s his girlfriend and valet, Melissa Hayes, seemingly confused to hear her boyfriend’s voice as she steps out of a locker room door. Her one mistake? Stepping out of the room literally RIGHT NEXT to the monster Hush.
She screams in horror and freezes in her tracks. Essex and Hush stare at Melissa for just one moment before they make their next move.
(Essex) Grab the girl Hush! Let’s go!
Obeying his master’s every command, Hush grabs Melissa by her hair and drags her as the two leave the arena with Melissa in tow.
(Keith) NO!
Keith immediately gives chase, but he has to navigate over all the wreckage in the hall that Hush left lying. When Keith and the camera crew make it out to the parking lot, Hush is throwing her into the back of a van! He climbs into the back with her and slams the door shut as Essex in the driver’s seat speeds away.
Keith immediately searches left and right for someone else in the parking lot when he spots a guy getting out of his four door sedan. Keith runs over and throws him to the side, commandeering the vehicle and giving chase to the unmarked van contain his girlfriend Melissa and the monster Hush!
(JB) My gawd! Hush has just taken Keith Owens’ girlfriend Melissa Hayes, and for no reason!
(Tom) I think Essex is trying to make a statement! Mike Stryker wasn’t around for him to get his revenge on, so the two of them took on whoever stood in their way tonight. Unfortunately, that was Keith Owens and Melissa Hayes!
NAFW Originals vs. Old School Empire
(JB) Ladies and gents, its time for our new main event of the night as Spaz will seemingly take on the Old School Empire by himself after Lane went down earlier in the night.
(Tom) Spaz is going to get what he deserves by fighting this one alone!
Spaz does his best in the two on one situation. He starts out in control of the match, forcing both of the Thomas Brothers to make surprise tags in and out of the match. Twitch supports Spaz as the veteran kicking ass on the rookies. Eventually the odds stack against him, and with some dirty tactics and tricky double teaming, he starts to become overwhelmed by his disadvantage. As things start to turn against Spaz, Twitch too turns against him, yelling at him to do better instead of lending a helpful managerial hand. The crowd is firmly behind Spaz but he just can’t seem to get control for long enough. As Spaz wears one Thomas brother down, the other one tags in and the vicious cycle continues. To the delight of the crowd, Lane hobbles down to the ring to the disbelief of the Old School Empire and climbs the apron to fight in Spaz’s corner. With the return of Lane, it seems like this match is about to turn around as it continues on…
Shadow Kick
(JB) Come on Spaz! You can do it! Just get to the corner!
(Tom) Yeah, so he can bring his hurt partner in! That's like trading a playboy playmate for your wife, Mannwich!
Spaz knocks Dustin back, and leaps for the corner. He crawls forward, and tags in the hurt Lane, who seems to recoil from the tag. The crowd goes wild, as Lane steps between the ropes.
(JB) Oh yeah, business is about to pick up!
The groggy and limping Lane hits the ropes as both Thomas Brothers circle up, ignoring the official's protests while a hurt Spaz stands as backup. The Superstar suddenly picks up the pace, and runs into the opposite ropes.
(Tom) Yeah, run all the gas out of that tank!
Dustin's eyes go wide as Lane bounds forward and lashes out with the...
SHADOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW KICCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!ONE!!!
A body hits the mat, and the arena goes into silence. The referee nearly has a heart attack in shock. Twitch looks like he's going to start crying. All of this because...
Mike Lane has Shadow Kicked Spaz.
(JB) What the hell was that?
(Tom) ...
Lane, a sneer on his face, turns over to OSE, and points to the fallen Spaz. The two brothers slap Lane's hand as they start laying in with kicks and punches on the fallen Spaz. Lane pulls off his NAFW throwback jersey, and stands beside his students as they beat down his tag partner. The referee calls for the bell out of disgust.
(JB) I guess... it's a no contest, maybe. I don't think it really matters, that's not the story here. Mike Lane has turned on his partner and friend.
(Tom) ...
Twitch at ringside is watching the mugging go down, and then when Lane meets his eye, the manager starts running back up the aisle.
(JB) That damn Twitch, won't even do anything to stop this.
(Tom) ...
(JB) Damnit, Kalhoun, say something.
(Tom) ... God Bless Mike Lane.
The official tries to stop the beat down, but Lane knocks him out of the way, and tosses the smaller man from the ring. Dustin picks up Spaz, and Shane locks the Candyman in the Alpha Lock.
(JB) Someone get in here and stop this! Damn them to hell!
Shane relinquishes the hold, and he and Dustin hold Spaz up while Lane sizes up his now-former partner. The Superstar launches, and nails yet another Shadow Kick on Spaz.
(Tom) This is some of the best TV we've had in a long time. I need some popcorn. Reminds me of when Lane was doing a Liberation every week!
(JB) Oh, I certainly remember those days. I was watching Annihilation on TV cause Lane gave me a damn Liberation! I always knew he was a piece of *censored*
Someone backstage must have finally woken up because we have a gaggle of officials and security flooding the ring, pulling the Empire and Lane away from Spaz, who is dead weight at this point.
(Tom) Come on! They weren't finished!
Lane and the Old School Empire are now retreating up the aisle. Lane holds up OSE's arms and they pose on the stage as the fans have begun to rain down with jeers and everyone's favorite chant...
"Asshole. Asshole. Asshole."
(Tom) Well, it looks like Mann-ow has been silenced, cause I can't hear him in my headset, and he's saying a lot of things that I only say in the bedroom! Let's soak in the moment, ladies and germs. Greatness has found Mike Lane again!
Soak it in, indeed, Bear.
The camera finds the trio standing on the stage, watching as officials try to help the fallen Spaz. Their faces say it all. Dustin and Shane both look very pleased with themselves, but the real story is Mike Lane.
He spent over a year fighting a man who looked just like the man now laying in the ring, and maybe he just couldn't seperate the two of them apart. Maybe he cracked under the realization that he didn't get it done at Death Wish, and he did not become the Foundation Champion, and in fact had to watch as Reaper won the title, helplessly handcuffed to the ropes. Maybe the fact that Spaz failed to get him uncuffed from the ropes at Death Wish. Maybe it could have been that he was tired of goofing around in throwback jerseys with Spaz and Twitch when he could be trying to win the FHC. Maybe he has decided to start wearing a tunic every week and ranting about Alpha's and Omega's.
But as we watch his features, we can easily see that it may be none of those things. The smirk is familiar, and the crucifix pose is like an old coat that you can always feel comfortable in, that you can always go back to and remember the good times... and the bad times. The real story is in his eyes, though. Cold. Calculating. One look into his eyes reveal the full story. I'm sure he'll tell us why he did this next week, but for now all we have are the fallen body of Spaz, the image of Mike Lane and the Old School Empire celebrating, and the words of JB Mann...
Mike Lane is a piece of shit.
(JB) We’re out of time for tonight. This has been a night of shocks from the Reaper being mysteriously lit on fire, to Hush taking Melissa Hayes captive, to Mike Lane turning on his friend and partner Spaz! There have to be repercussions all around next week! But until then, good night!
Flash that logo! Roll those credits!
