Welcome Home-slaughter?
The scene opens out in the parking area of the Continental Airlines Arena. Fans are already inside, awaiting the start of Annihilation when a loud rumbling sound breaks up banter inside the arena. A black 1969 Ford Mustang GTO comes into view with the Jersey license plate that reads in no uncertain terms...
CHAMP1
As it comes to a halt in its parking spot, the door swings open and out of it steps a man who hasn't been 'home' in quite some time. In Boston, seeing Tom Brady or David Ortiz can throw a crowd into a frenzy. Especially given what they've brought to that respective sports town over the past five years or so. In New York, Derek Jeter is still...The Captain. Mr. October 2.0, only he's a homegrown product. In New Jersey, these people are cheering because of who's stepping out of that classic. To them, he's a classic all his own and oh yeah, he is the Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
He is "The Reaper" Leonard Aarons, but to them, he's the Devastator From Doddtown. He steps out wearing a throwback New York Jets jersey, Namath's no less and his wrestling attire is already on as his Lion Athletic bag is slung over his right shoulder and the Foundation Heavyweight Championship with him. As he steps inside and heads down towards his locker room, he's stopped by of all people, Amie Carmichael. She smiles, although it's not quite returned full blown by Aarons who's still furious over being lit ablaze a few weeks ago in Hartford.
(Amie) Tonight Leonard, you get to wrestle in front of your homestate crowd for the first time since winning your Foundation Heavyweight Championship at the end of Death Wish against Zangief.
This gets a quizzical look from Aarons, something a wee bit different than the murderous look he's had for quite some time.
(Leonard) Who?
(Amie) Zangief.
(Leonard) He the guy who tried to make a Roman Candle out of this Catholic?
(Amie) Uh...no...I don't think so.
It's right about here that the homicidal look returns to that chiseled face of his.
(Leonard) For tonight then...he'll do. I told Bucky to get me a name and well...since he hasn't gotten one, I'm gonna lay out MANY till I get that one. All will feel it...none will be spared.
It's here that he walks off oblivious to the roar of his homestate crowd, as we cut to the intro.
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) Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our last Annihilation before we head into our Pay Per View "Redemption." We've got a huge show for you tonight from East Rutherford, New Jersey!
(Tom) And what better way to kick off Annihilation than with some footage taped earlier today?
Disasterpiece Theatre: NYC or Bust
Cunning appears in a pre-taped segment in a smoking jacket, holding a pipe. He's not smoking tobacco. He shows a clip of the Kyle Cole DVD launch party, ending with him shoving Cole off the stage and through a table.
(Tom) That’s a thing of beauty.
(JB) Cunning has been up to some foul things lately. It’ll bite him in the ass sooner or later.
(Tom) Speaking of getting bit in the ass, here’s Zangief already in the ring!
"The Russian Cyborg" Zangief vs. "The Reaper" Leonard Aarons (FH)
(JB) I couldn't have said it better myself Tom. We all know what Zangief is here for...
(Tom) Bear hunting?
(JB) No! Although he's probably going to feel like a hunted animal after he steps into the ring with our Foundation Heavyweight Champion, "The Reaper" Leonard Aarons.
There's the sound of a little girl giggling in a sinister fashion as we hear the sound of nails being sharpened, akin to that of Freddy getting his glove hand sharpened. In this case, we hear the rather sinister grumblings of a Lion as the NAFWtron flashes the images of the barb wire end of a Lendo Stick being sharpened against a wall. This cuts to action shots of Aarons blasting various individuals with it, moreso the likes of Trevor Cunning and Keith Owens. This gives way to an organlike intro as we hear the intro of "Go To Sleep" by Eminem, Obie Trice & DMX get the crowd worked into a frenzy. Dry fog starts to emanate from the entranceway as the arena is flooded with gold and dark crimson. The NAFWtron flashes highlights from the career of the new Foundation Heavyweight Champion as they await his arrival. It is here that we see a figure emerge from underneath the entranceway through the dry fog. He's got his Reaper hoodie on with the hood up and of course there's that 15 pound fashion accessory on his right shoulder, I think they call it the Foundation Heavyweight Championship or something to that degree. In any event, he rises up through the fog with the hood over his head with his customary vest on and his gear looking as snazzy as usual. He strikes his usual pose with three pyro explosions going off behind him as he heads down the aisle. He hops up onto the apron and turns towards the crowd, removing his title from his shoulder as he grasps it in his right hand while lowering his head and cocking his head back to remove his hood. He strikes his trademark pose as pyro erupts from all four corners as he roars to the delight of the crowd. He steps inside, ditching his vest as he steps inside, handing the belt off to the ref as he cracks his neck and prepares for action.
(JB) Tom, it's interesting to note that this is "The Reaper's" first match since becoming Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
(Tom) No duh. It's kinda hard to wrestle right after you've been lit on fire.
(JB) Obviously. It's also interesting to note that this is "The Reaper's" first match in front of his home state crowd in nearly four years.
(Tom) Stupendous. Do you know where my home town is?
(JB) No, I actually don't. Let me guess though... "Mann-hattan?"
(Tom) No, Manitoba.
(JB) What?
(Tom) Manitoba
(JB) I'm right here Tom. Are you having difficulties with your headset? Where is your home town?
(Tom) You're thick, Mannitoba.
(JB) I guess I'll never know. At any rate, this match is sure to be brutal as "The Reaper" is pissed off, like usual. I spoke to "The Reaper" earlier in the week and he assured me that what he does to Zangief tonight will only be a small taste of what he's going to do to the fire starter.
Early on, Aarons sends Zangief in and ducks an initial clothesline attempt. Upon the comeback, Aarons catches him and drops him with a vicious Illbuster. He waits for Zangief to get up and once he stumbles towards Aarons, Aarons locks him in and brings him over for an Illplex. About midway through the match, which would be approximately a minute or two into things, things spill outside where Aarons pretty much makes Zangief his bitch. After a G.C.E., Aaron looks to the crowd and flash that smirk of his before dragging him to the ring steps. He locks the legs in place and pull his arms up before looking out at the roaring crowd and executing the Ill Stomp, putting his head right smack into the ringsteps not once, but thrice. The Reaper strikes his trademark pose and the fans cheer like only hometown fans would.
The torture basically continues as he drags Zangief to his feet and give him the Chokeslam From Illtown right onto the base of the ringsteps. He drags Zangief to his feet and screams at him before making that cutthroat sign and hoist Zangief onto his shoulders. He tosses Zangief towards the pole with his knee hitting the post hard. After dong this two more times and ensuring that proper damage has been done to his knee and all ligaments within it, Zangief gets thrown back into the ring. Aarons slides back in and crouches down in the corner, waiting on Zangief to get to his feet. Realistically Zangief should be dead, but he's from Mother Russia and in Mother Russia you never say die. Zangief pulls himself half way up using the ropes, and Aarons charges at him with the illest G.S.P. you've ever seen, putting the bloody Russian down. Enough is never enough for Aarons and we all ponder why. For good measure he attacks the bum leg and Ill-kicks it a few times rather savagely before locking in an Ill-TF on that bum leg and closing it out applying a Ill-bra Clutch. Zangief refuses to tap out however. Most likely its because he's already knocked out, but that matters not. He's in this to the end, just like Austin against Bret at Wrestlemania. Zangief is out like Tyler's mom on a Friday night, or Tuesday morning - same thing really - and the ref calls for the bell, but of course Reaper D.R.H.I.S.H. ....that's Doesn't Release His Ill Submission Hold for those of you unaware.
(JB) Welp... that was a slaughter.
(Tom) Big Gulps, eh?
(JB) And it's not over yet...
Aarons breaks out a metal gas can (who knew those even existed anymore) and starts to beat Zangief in the knee with it. Talk about beating a dead horse. He props the knee onto the gas can and retrieves a chair. He proceeds to smash that knee not once, but thrice. The damage has been done, but everyone except for the champ realizes that. He jabs the chair into the kneecap some more before finally smacking Zangief in the skull. The fans in Jersey are rather shocked at the sudden change in attitude, as many begin to boo him, toning down the scattered cheers that once existed. Aarons stands over the crimson masked Zangief with his title in hand as he makes that signature cutthroat sign and strikes his pose as his music hits and he lifts his head up roaring to makes his exit.
(JB) That was absolutely sadistic. Zangief was already unconscious!
(Tom) Very unbecoming of a champion if I say so myself.
(JB) You never had a problem with anything Trevor Cunning did while champion!
(Tom) That's because Trevor Cunning was... I mean IS the man! Oh yeaaah.
Playing With Balls
(Cassie) Face it, Tyrone. You are fighting a losing battle. You know and everyone else knows that you cannot pin a ball. There's no way. It has no shoulders!
(CB) There must be a way! I am not going to lose my title to a freaking ball!
That is the NAFW Atlantic Champion, Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith. He is facing Wilson for the Atlantic Championship this week at Annihilation. Last time, they faced each other, Tyrone lost not only because he cannot pin a ball, but also because Snake intervened with the match. This time, Tyrone is going to find a way to do the impossible: PIN A BALL!!!!
(Cassie) Face it Tyrone, You've tried a golf ball, tennis ball, volleyball, football, soccer ball, bowling ball, which looked painful by the way. You haven't pinned a ball yet and you won't pin a ball. It's impossible!
(CB) I still have more! Watch this!
Tyrone reaches into his pocket and pulls out.. a Ping Pong Ball?!
He places the ball on the mat and lands on top of it and tries to pin it... guess what.. he actually SMASHES the ping pong ball, flattening it. But as you know, there is still no shoulders to pin on the mat, so it is a futile attempt.
(CB) Did I do it?
(Cassie) No Tyrone, you did not. Again, the ball has no shoulders!
(CB) Dammit!
Tyrone grabs the football and looks down at it and prepares to punt the ball away.. he drops the ball
AND MISSES!
Tyrone slips and falls on the mat, and gets back up. Frustrated, he gets back up starts to kick all the balls around... they start flying, but without thinking, he tries to kick the bowling ball.. and hurts his foot in the process. He hops around the ring and sits down, rubbing his foot furiously.
(CB) I'm going to punt Wilson right out of this damn arena. I will retain the title, even by other means.
Tyrone looks down at his foot, still rubbing it as the show fades to black.
COMMERCIAL
Eye for an Eye
Moments after his match (if that's what you can call what Aarons put on out there), he's seen exiting his locker room with his bag in hand. Per usual, there's someone there to try and get a word from him and that person is John Mills.
(John) Leonard, was it really necessary to go as far as you did out there. We have no proof that Zangief was even the man behind the attack that was...
Aarons simply walks by, his belt slung over his shoulder as John tries his best to keep up with the FHC.
(John) Tonight, people saw a side of you that we really didn't think existed.
(Leonard) That makes two of us.
(John) Well this makes the second week in a row that you've targeted someone who didn't do it. Aren't you the least bit concerned that you're going to be making more enemies than you can...
It's here that L shoots out his left arm, grabbing a handful of John's shirt as he stares straight ahead without looking at John, although that rather evil, quasi-psychotic look of his remains.
(Leonard) Let me tell you and the rest of the NAFW something, John.
He points with his free hand to the 15 pound belt on his left shoulder.
(Leonard) This means I have no friends, so considering I don't operate with people residing in a neutral zone, I can only assume all are my enemies. Now I told Buchanan to give me a name and he obviously didn't hear me. So this will continue until one of two things happens. Buchanan gets tired of seeing his superstars ied and broken and gets to the bottom of who tried to charbroil me...or...
Pop from the fans. Told ya they love this guy.
(Leonard) I put enough bodies under the ground until the only person that's left is the putz who tried to burn me. And then...
He lets go of John's shirt, proceeding out of the building as John readjusts his shirt and quickly follows suit. He doesn't get too far as Aarons has stopped on a dime.
If he was a 7 out of 10 on the pissed off scale during his walk, he’s just reached a 17 out of 10. His eyes pop out of his skull as he stares off camera. A quick turn shows what all the fuss is about.
Leonard Aarons, Foundation Champion and car enthusiast, is NOT amused. His car, for lack of a better word, is all effed up.
The hood is dented in a dozen places. The windshield is a glassy spiderweb. The tires are slashed and flattened. The fenders are keyed up. The headlights are hanging out. The grill is cracked. The passenger side door is dented in so badly it won’t close.
Someone had fun…and Leonard Aarons looks ready to spit nails.
(Aarons) SON OF A-
CRACK!!!
Aarons never finishes the phrase that certainly wouldn’t have made air, as his back is lit up by a violent chairshot. Aarons hits the deck and drops his prized piece of gold and leather as the camera pans back to reveal the culprit…
Mike F’n Stryker.
The Continental Airlines Arena reacts to the image, almost down the middle between cheers and boos. Stryker, for his part, could care less who approves and who doesn’t.
Aarons begins to get up, and for his effort he earns a stiff kick to the ribs, putting him back down.
(Stryker) WRONG PLACE, HUH?!? WRONG TIME, IS THAT RIGHT?!?!
Stryker lines up and delivers another stiff boot to the ribs of Aarons.
(Stryker) COME ON TOUGH GUY!!! COME ON CHAMP!!! YOU WANT TO PLAY ROUGH?!?! LET’S PLAY!!!
Stryker picks up Aarons and walks him over to the vandalized car, smashing him headfirst into the hood hard enough to create dent #13. He lifts his head up and again slams it into the hood. A small trickle of blood can be seen coming from the fresh bruise on Aarons forehead.
(Stryker) LET’S GO CHAMP!! LET’S GO!! YOU WANT SOME MORE? HAVE A TASTE!!
Stryker picks up Aarons head and this time, he doesn’t go for the hood…
...he goes for the glass.
Stryker grabs Aarons by the scruff of his neck and heaves him headfirst at the spiderwebbed windshield. A sickening crack of glass shards can be heard as Aarons goes headfirst into his own windshield. Aarons rolls over, what was a trickle is now a stream of blood covering his face.
Stryker looks back, at the two objects lying on the ground.
One dented steel chair…One Foundation Championship Belt.
Stryker walks over, on the way playing a quick and twisted game of eeny meeny miney mo. The very best one?
The Foundation Heavyweight Championship belt.
Stryker picks up the most coveted prize in our sport, and gives it a long look. Aarons half rolls, half slides himself off the hood of his car, staggering for balance as he regains his footing. Stryker looks at Aarons, almost annoyed with his refusal to stay put. Stryker sighs before charging forward. He takes off, putting everything he has into striking Aarons square in his wounded forehead with the FHC belt.
Aarons drops like a 5 pound bag of dirt. Stryker lands about 4 feet away from him. He crawls back to his victim, FHC belt in tow, smirking that sick smirk. He leans in, close to Aarons’ ear, holding the belt inches away. The faceplate is smeared with a streak of blood down the middle. Stryker whispers, barely audible to everyone in attendance.
(Stryker) Lenny….you made the biggest mistake of your life last week. You messed with the wrong bull. Tonight, you get the horns.
You took from me last week. You took something that meant the world to me. So consider this biblical justice. Eye for an eye…belt for a belt. You took from me? Tonight, I’m taking from you. This belt is mine now.
If you want it back, come get it.
Stryker stands up, looking down on the fallen champion, pleased with his handiwork. He slings the belt over his shoulder and walks away.
Leonard Aarons coughs, gasping for air, as he rolls over to his side. His crimson face is racked with pain. Help is not on the way. As of now, he’s left for dead.
Cut.
(JB) MY GORD! The Reaper has been brutalized by Mike Stryker much like the Reaper brutalized Zangief earlier tonight!
(Tom) What goes around comes around I guess.
(JB) Can we get EMTs back there or anything?
(Tom) It’s not our job. Mann. Sometimes you have to let things die.
(JB) If one thing is for sure, its that Mike Stryker got his message across loud and clear.
Wilson vs. Crazy Boy (AC)
Atlantic Championship
(Tom) Well, I wouldn’t think about it too much, because we’re moving on to the rematch we've all been waiting for.
(JB) Is it possible Wilson is going to upset Crazy Boy yet again?
(Tom) Not likely. Tyrone might have had some problems pinning balls in the back, but they don't call him Crazy Boy for nothing. He'll figure out a way to beat Wilson this time.
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 jeers of the crowd. He's got Wilson under his right arm and the picture of Wilson pinning Crazy Boy for the first time under his left arm. Snake starts to make his way down the ramp and when the first verse comes to an end, Snake sets Wilson and the picture 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 the picture and makes his way to the ring, hissing at random fans on his way. He puts Wilson down in the middle of the ring and props the picture up in the corner before exiting the ring.
(JB) Well it looks like Wilson and Snake might have worked out their differences...
(Tom) Wilson is a volleyball. How else is he supposed to get down to the ring if Snake doesn't carry him?
"Fully Alive" by Flyleaf hits the PA as the lights dim and then flicker out. Strobe lights flicker on as smoke fills the entryway and the ramp. All the sudden, a figure comes out from the back and stands in the smoke, right fist pumped up in the air. The strobe lights make the figure seem like it is blinking as the figure cuts through the smoke. The crowd cheers as it is NAFW's very own psycho, Crazy Boy. CB walks down the ramp, adknowledging the crowd as he slides under the bottom ropes. The lights flicker back on as CB pumps his fist in the air, runs around off the ropes and then turns, staring down at Wilson in the middle of the ring.
(JB) Let's see if Crazy Boy can do the seemingly impossible and pin Wilson!
Crazy Boy hands the referee the Atlantic Championship and the bell rings. Crazy Boy tries to wrestle with the ball, throwing his body on top of him. The referee slides down in place to make the pin, but then shrugs because Wilson has no shoulders and he cannot administer a count. Snake begins to shout at Wilson from the outside of the ring and Crazy Boy takes offense to this. He picks Wilson up and throws him outside at Snake. The ball hits Snake in the shoulder and bounces into the first row. Crazy Boy demands the referee begin to count Wilson out. 1... 2.. 3... 4... The fan tries to throw Wilson back in the ring, but the throw is short. Snake picks up his friend begins to punch him, telling him its not okay to get counted out and if he doesn't get back in the ring, he's gonna whoop his ass. Snake listens to Wilson as the count out as now at seven. He grabs a chair and slides both Wilson and the chair into the ring. Crazy Boy smiles deviously and picks up the chair to pummel Wilson with. The referee grabs the chair and fights with Crazy Boy about using it. Finally Crazy Boy agrees not to use the chair and he relinquishes it to the ref. Crazy Boy picks up Wilson, but as the ref's back is turned, Snake slides in with the picture cracks Crazy Boy over the back of the head! Snake slithers back out under the bottom rope as CB falls backwards, with Wilson landing on his chest! The referee turns around and makes the three count... 1... 2... 3!
(JB) I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! WE HAVE A NEW ATLANTIC CHAMPION!
(Tom) What has this world come to... a friggin' volleyball just won the title!
The referee takes the Atlantic title and raises it and Wilson into the air and Crazy Boy rolls to the edge of the apron in a daze about what just happened. Snake rolls into the ring and takes Wilson and the title belt away from the referee.
Balls, Snakes and Cages... Oh My!
(Andy D) This is unbelievable. I mean to think that the people who run this place would allow a volleyball or basketball or whatever it’s pretending to be this week, but to think that it’s been allowed to fight as an actual wrestler in a match is crazy. And now it’s won a title? Do you idiots in the ring realize that there is a piece of sports equipment now holding a title in NAFW? A couple of weeks ago, Mike Stryker and Hush were kicking the preverbal out of each other for that thing.
Andy’s been walking down to the ring as he makes his speech, here he stops to climb in the ring to stare at Snake and the new Atlantic Champion. Wilson. Well it’s a look of disgust he gives Wilson, but he still stares at him.
(Andy D) Now I know I’m the last guy you’d expect chasing after a title, but I’ll be damned if I stand around in this place letting some inanimate object hold gold. So once again I’m going to do what Crazy Boy here can’t, and that’s beat a fragging ball.
(CB) Andy, Stay out of this. You, Snake and Wilson should know that I have a rematch clause and I want to use it to get MY Atlantic Championship back. I cannot believe a VOLLEYBALL or whatever it’s supposed to be, is a champion in the NAFW. Especially when it was MY title to begin with. I want to use my rematch clause at Redemption for the title.
Snake just looks at the duo and smiles an evil grin and turns back around to Wilson, who now has the AC title strapped around the ball.
(Snake) This is rich, Wilson. Andy D thinks he deserves a shot because he’s better than Crazy Boy. Tyrone thinks he gets a shot because he has a rematch clause, but we both know that I get a shot first because I helped you win. eh?
CB and Andy stare at Snake, who stares at Wilson "listening" to what he says.
(Snake) What?! What do you mean you don't know? Who's going to get the shot to face you at Redemption?! I want an answer NOW!
More silence as Snake "listens" to Wilson, and then he just shakes his head.
(Snake) This is the thanks I get for helping you out?! What do you mean that all 3 of us have valid points and have an equal chance to go for the title?
You know the drill. More silence. More "listening".
(Snake) Hey! That's not a bad idea! That's using your brain, Wilson.
Snake turns to the duo of CB and Andy D and just grins behind his mask.
(Snake) Wilson says that he's a sporting man....Er ball...But anywho, he says we all deserve shots so he is going to defend his title at Redemption in a four way match! Us four right here for the title, but there is a catch. Since he’s the champion, he gets to choose the type of match we’re having, and he has chosen a steel cage match!
Andy D and Tyrone look at each other and shrug their shoulders.
(CB) That's not so bad. I like steel cage matches. I am going to get my title back for sure!
(Andy D) Yeah, sure, whatever.
Snake holds his hand up, urging for silence.
(Snake) I'm not done yet! He also says this isn't going to be an ordinary steel cage match. He says that the only way to win the match is by pin fall, submission or escaping the cage, but here's the catch. On the cage itself, there will be real LIVE SNAKES on the cage, so if you want to escape, you have to get past the snakes. So if you guys accept, at Redemption it will be the Atlantic Championship in a fatal four way...
SNAKES ON A CAGE!!!
Tyrone and Andy just look at each other, but there is something a little odd about Tyrone.
(Andy D) Sounds like the name of a bad B-movie, but whatever. Just as long as I get that title away from the wrestler without a brain… and Wilson too.
Snake stares at Andy angrily while Andy has a little smirk on his face. Crazy Boy looks a little visibly shaken up, but he tries to hide it and nods his head.
(CB) Yeah, I'm in as well. Let's get this show on the road.
The four just stare each other down before leaving the ring as this portion of the NAFW fades to black.
(Tom) Snakes on a Cage? Who can believe it? Who can believe Wilson actually won the Atlantic Championship here tonight?
COMMERCIAL
He Speaks of the Beacon
The tron comes to life in complete darkness, only the youthful voice of a man is heard emenating from the pitch black screen.
(? ? ?) While darkness overcomes many a man's soul here in the North American Foundation of Wrestling... A beacon of light can be seen on the horizon.
A shimmer of light flashes across the screen briefly, giving the fans a quick glimpse of a white mask with gold trim over the face. A name in gold lettering with a brilliant white glow around it takes it's place.
Because She Said So.
(John) Vanessa, a lot of people are rather shocked by your appearance here tonight.
(Vanessa) Why's that? I have business here.
(John) Well, Mike Stryker's been on the warpath, laying out the champion, your ex no less in the parking lot. My first question is, what compelled you to walk out during his match last week?
She sighs rather deeply, knowing this has been the single most asked question she has been asked over the past week.
(Vanessa) I came out to warn Mike of what was coming, rather that L was on the warpath and he needed to be on the lookout.
(John) And how did you know that The Reaper was going to be coming? Are you two back together?
(Vanessa) I knew he was coming because you don't spend three years with a man of his stature and not learn how he thinks and what he's going to do in certain instances.
(John) But to the untrained eye, it would look like you two were working together to cost Stryker his Atlantic Championship.
(Vanessa) I understand and that's why I'm here tonight to apologize directly to Mr. Stryker for costing him that title he worked so hard to obtain. I know how rough it was getting the medical clearance he had to get in order to face that behemoth named Hush and I saw that Last Man Standing match which took him to limits he probably didn't know he had. But it was not my intention to cost him that title, let alone appear to be helping Aarons out.
She starts to walk away and John follows her, like any good reporter would.
(John) But are you and Aarons back together again?
(Vanessa) I'm here to apologize to Mike. Period, end of story.
(John) That's not an...
(Vanessa) Then I guess you don't get one.
She turns and walks away after giving the exact same answer that The Reaper gave him a little over a week ago. We kick it back to the announce team at ringside, who are as equally perplexed by what they've just seen.
(JB) Well only days after costing Mike Stryker the Atlantic Championship, it appears that Vanessa is here to attempt to make amends for her actions.
(Tom) Like any good woman would. It wasn't her fault that her lunatic ex felt the need to place the blame for him being set on fire on a great champion like Mike Stryker.
(JB) But did you notice how she kept avoiding the Aarons question? Or how she gave a similar response to it exactly how The Reaper did a week ago when he was asked?
(Tom) How dare you insinuate such a thing. She's an upstanding woman of virtue and class. She has no earthly desire to be back with a clown that runs around dropping people from behind when they don't see it coming. But I guess after what we just saw in the parking lot, he more than knows the feeling.
(JB) Well, Mike has the Foundation Heavyweight Championship and Vanessa's going to be out here later on tonight to apologize in person. This should be incredibly interesting to say the least.
Who Are The Goods?
(Tom) Mechanical men!
(JB) What did we agree last week about mentioning robots, Bear?
(Tom) Any and all agreements made last week were rendered null and void at the conclusion of the show. Didn't you read the fine print, Mann-in-law?
(JB) It was a verbal agreement, Bear. There was no fine print!
(Tom) Fine print is like herpes. Even if you can't see it, it's always there.
(JB) You never cease to disturb me.
(Tom) All part of the service!
(JB) In any event, last week, The Goods made their return as back-up for Spaz against Mike Lane and the Old School Empire. Because it's been so long since they've been on the roster, here's a bit more information on this duo...
The announce table is replaced on screen by a graphic, consisting of a picture of Slush on the left, and his vital stats on the right. Faintly, the opening to "Riot" by Three Days Grace begins.
Age: 32
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 243 lbs.
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Finishing Move: Judgement Call
Former Foundation Tag Team Champion
(JB) Slush has been in and out of the Foundation several times since 2001, both on his own and with tag team partners.
Now, the graphics switch, a picture of Ammo and his vitals replacing those of Slush.
Age: 30
Height: 6'9"
Weight: 361 lbs.
Hometown: London, Ontario, Canada
Finishing Move: Breakdown
(JB) And the man known as Ammo is, quite simply, a behemoth.
Now the graphics fade into a brief video package, as we hit the chorus of "Riot".
Slush and Ammo stalking down to the ring.
Slush nailing a flying elbow on an unknown opponent. Ammo driving the heel of his boot into someone's face. Slush holding an opponent on his shoulders in a fireman's carry, spinning him around into a sitting front slam. Ammo's huge fists raining punches down on an opponent in the corner.
Slush leaping into the air above a doubled-over opponent, landing with a leg across the back of their neck, and dropping them face-first into the mat. This is Slush's finishing maneuver, known to some as the Famouser, but to him it's the Judgement Call.
Ammo holding a man high in the air with one hand, sitting out and dropping him to the mat flat on his back. This devastating one-handed chokeslam is the Breakdown. As Ammo rolls out of the way, the Breakdown is followed immediately by Slush flying from the top turnbuckle with the Twisting Moonsault that he calls the Melting Point. Put together it's their finisher Crash On Delivery.
Slush and Ammo stepping out from behind the curtain last week, taking up flanking positions next to Spaz.
Cut back to JB and Tom as the music fades out.
(Tom) Uh... Ow?
(JB) Quite right, Bear! Slush and Ammo are as formidable a tag team as any. The brawling prowess of Slush, combined with the mix of sheer power and technique in Ammo... It has the potential to be devastating, especially when you count Spaz in the mix!
(Tom) But I don't see any Foundation Tag Team Championships on Ammo's record...
(JB) Slush and Ammo's runs together were all somewhat short... They didn't have the opportunity to reach their potential.
(Tom) You do realize that you're making them sound pretty pathetic, right?
(JB) How about we let their current actions speak for them?
(Tom) Cop out!
(JB) The fact of the matter is this, Bear: The Goods have stepped up at Spaz's side, and I for one can't wait to see them in action!
(Tom) I remain unimpressed. But then again, these aren't the same Goods we've seen before. They're the RoboGoods!
(JB) Again with the robots.
(Tom) Face it, Mann-with-a-hat, you have to admit they're robots, because that's the only way they're going to be any kind of help to Spaz!
(JB) I assure you Bear, Slush and Ammo are flesh and blood, and they will make an impact not only on Spaz's side, but up next against the Mexican Toiletries!
The Goods vs. The Mexican Toiletries
The match is about what you'd expect, with the Toiletries doing their best, but falling short. It seems like they're not communicating quite as well as they have in the past and El Asso Wipo can be heard muttering something about a Turtle. In any event, the lucha style of the Toiletries staggers The Goods only briefly, before Slush and Ammo overpower the smaller men. Throughout, Lane and the OSE simply stand on the ramp, watching.
The match ends when Ammo lifts one Toiletry in each hand, sits out and slams both to the ground with a dual Breakdown. Slush lands the Melting Point on the legal man - Señor Bag of Crap - and Redding counts the three. As the bell rings, Mike Lane and his crew turn and leave the way they came.
(JB) Do you still remain unimpressed, Bear?
(Tom) OK, so that wasn't too bad. Still not on par Mike Lane and the Old School Empire, but moderately impressive.
(JB) Moderately? Bear, you're delusional.
(Tom) Or maybe you're delusional?
(JB) I'm not going to get into that game.
(Tom) No, I'm not going to get into that game!
(JB) Can we go to commercial?
(Tom) You go to commercial!
COMMERCIAL
Congratu-HEY!
So yes. The locker room. Inside stand the aforementioned threesome, along with their manager, the man who calls himself Twitch. The four of them have returned here, after the match against the Mexican Toiletries.
(Slush) I need a shower.
(Ammo) Tell me about it.
(Spaz) Sorry guys, but you both need a shower.
Of course they do. Remember a couple of weeks ago, Spaz had a shower after merely bumping into the Toiletries. Having a match with them requires... Well, we'll let Twitch finish that thought.
(Twitch) Twitch thinks Flush and Jumbo need two or three showers. Twitch sto... Uh... Bought a bunch of Zest today for just that reason.
Slush and Ammo look at Twitch questioningly, then to Spaz, then at each other, and finally back to Spaz.
(Slush) Flush?
(Ammo) Jumbo?
(Slush) How do you put up with this lunatic?
Spaz shrugs and smiles weakly.
(Spaz) You get used to it. The guy calls me "Pez" for goodness sake.
(Twitch) Pez is candy, so the Candy Man here is Pez. Jumbo's just, well... Jumbo. And Flush...
Slush glares at Twitch.
(Slush) Don't finish that sentence.
(Twitch) What? Twitch was just going to say that Flush...
The glare intensifies.
(Slush) Don't.
Twitch frowns, then shrugs.
(Twitch) Bah. Well, like Twitch said: There's some Zest waiting. Call it a gift to congratulate The Wares on their victorious return to action.
Slush and Ammo wisely ignore the new Twitch-name™ for their team.
(Twitch) Now Twitch is thirsty.
Without another word, or offering to bring something back for the others, Twitch turns and leaves the room...
And as the door closes behind him, we jump to a view from the other side. Twitch takes a few steps away from the door, and is walks right into a three-man wall. The three men who he blatantly lied to last week, siding against them and with The Goods.
Mike Lane. Shane Thomas. Dustin Thomas.
The latter pair, at a silent order from the former, each grab Twitch by an arm, and drag the manager away.
(Twitch) HEY! Micky! Let Twitch go!
(Lane) Shut up Twitch.
(Twitch) Frell that! P...
Before Twitch can call out to his client, Lane's fist connects with the base of his skull, and Twitch is knocked unconscious. All the easier for the OSE to drag him.
And with that, we cut back to ringside.
(Tom) I told you Twitch was an idiot for turning on Mike Lane! I think he's going to pay for it tonight!
(JB) That would be typical behavior from Lane... Attacking a manager, when his clients aren't around to stop it.
(Tom) You're just bitter about Lane's reminiscing last week.
(JB) If you were the one he beat up, you would be too. In fact, I seem to recall you calling Tyler Hyatt "Groper" for quite a while...
(Tom) I hate you.
An Unholy Union
(Peter) Damnit, what’s taking him so long? I need to talk to him about our match tonight with the trust Fund Kids for the tag titles.
Peter looks again at his watch which now says, "2:15 pm." Peter paces back and forth as he is seemingly upset waiting for his partner.
(Peter) Jake better show up tonight or I’m going to have to win the tag titles by myself. And what a way to go into Redemption, as the NEW NAFW Tag team Champion. It’s been so long since I’ve held the tag team titles. Having them in my hands once again will feel extra special to me. But Cunning and Owens are no pushovers. Trevor is a loose cannon in the ring, not to mention a drunken basatrd. Only thing I know about Keith Owens is that he is always ready to fight. Well he and Trevor better get ready to lose those belts. Me and Jake are going to shock the world when we take the NAFW Tag Team Titles away from those two idiots. Now if only Jake would get here, so we can make plans for the match.
Peter waits a little while longer. Still no site of Jake’s car. He then looks at his watch which now says "3pm." Peter kicks a soda can that is near him and pulls out his cell phone. He hits a few buttons on the phone and puts it to his ear. The phone rings with no answer. A voice message then is heard.
Message: Hey, this is Jake. Leave a message at the tone.
(Peter) That stupid idiot. I bet he won’t even show. Looks like I’ll have to do this on my own.
The phone beeps and Peter begins to leave a message for Jake..
(Peter) Jake, this is Peter Gilmour. You know your tag team partner for tonight’s match? Where the hell are you? We have a match in 5 hours. Get your ass down to the arena or else I’m going to win the tag titles myself..
Peter ends the call and puts his cell phone in his pocket. He goes to the trunk of his car and pulls out his bags. He then heads into the arena as we see a black car pull in to the parking lot as we fade to black.
(Tom) Peter Gilmour: The Partnerless Human Killing Machine!
(JB) I haven’t checked for myself whether or not Jake Rydell showed up at the arena tonight, but it appears he’s less serious about the shot of a lifetime at the Tag Team Championships than his partner.
Insufficient Funds
Castleberry paces back and forth in his dressing room,the X-Treme title on his shoulder, a cell phone held to his ear, his face begining to turn red with rage.
(MC) Insufficient funds? You've got to be kidding me! You're telling me the NAFW X-Treme champ is flat broke? Where the hell did all my money go? Oh, you don't know? What the hell do I pay you for then, your only job is to manage my damn money, and you don't know where it went? It's just gone! So, basically someone cleaned out my entire damn account? That's great, just great. I can't believe this crap... I don't care what you gotta do man, just fix it. Bye.
Castleberry tosses his phone into his bag and pauses for a moment, quietly, before hurling his title into a hearby locker with a loud clang, leaving a huge dent.
(MC) Son of a bitch... Well... guess I'd better just get this over with.
He bends down, scooping up his title and begins a solemn march to the ring
Anti-Hero… Referee?
Kyle Cole goes to Ray Buchanan's office to ask for a match with Trevor Cunning. He wants to make his return at Redemption. Big Pop
Buchanan turns him down, as Cole’s contract is only for merchandising, not for wrestling. He will however, let Cole be the special guest referee for Cunning's match against... VYC.
COMMERCIAL
Charles Johnson vs. Mike Castleberry (XT)
Padded Ring Match
X-Treme Championship
(JB) Up next is our "extreme" stipulated match of the evening.
(Tom) Look how thick that padding is Mannversuswild. Someone could easily be body slammed on that and fall asleep.
(JB) Right Tom, because that's what the X-Treme Championship is all about.
"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. Still in his full suit, he bounces around on the padding in the ring to test it out.
(JB) It looks like Charles Johnson has his check book, out and ready.
(Tom) He's making a wise investment, and we're getting an upgrade in a champion!
The lights cut out in the arena, bathing it in darkness, the only lighting is from a few camera flashes. Suddenly, a guitar riff pierces the air over the PA, blue lights flashing at the entryway, revealing Castleberry standing, his arms folded, staring at the ring, a look of fierce determination on his face. The crowd cheers as he stands, surveying his surroundings. The first verse of Megadeth's "Die Dead Enough" plays, as Castleberry starts his march down to the ring as the chorus picks up. Castleberry stands in front of the ring, stretching a bit, crackling his knuckles, then his neck, making sure everything is lose. He hops into the ring, as the lights go back on in the arena, and Castleberry takes the X-Treme title off his waist.
(JB) If I'm to understand correctly, it seems like our X-Treme Champion Mike Castleberry is short on funds.
(Tom) And he's short on time too. In just a matter of moments, he'll be laying down on the cushy padding lining the mat.
(JB) I see they're really taking this stipulation to the extreme.
Castleberry and Johnson stand face to face. Castleberry snarls as he doesn't seem to want to give up the X-Treme Championship he fought so hard to win and defend, even as of last week. Castleberry holds up the X-Treme title in the air with one hand and passes it to the referee. He then stares at Johnson who takes out a pen from his jacket pocket and ponders for a moment. Castleberry barks at him to write the check so they can get this over with. Johnson tells him to relax. CJ demands for the referee to turn around, which he begrudgingly does. He uses his back as a surface to write the check. He rips it out of his checkbook and hands it over to Castlberry. The current champ examines it and seems pleased. He tucks it into his boot and promptly lays down on the mat, legs arched upward in case CJ really wants to keep him pinned. CJ removes his coat jacket and hangs it over the top rope: after all, he'll be putting it back on in just a moment. He lays over Castleberry and hooks the far leg, bringing his other arm around the neck to make a cradle pin. The rest is, as they as, academic.
1... 2...
Swerve!
Castlberry shifts his weight and reverses the pin, burying CJ's shoulders deep into that three inches of padded mat goodness. The referee counts again.
1...2...3!
(JB) Mike Castleberry retains!
(Tom) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
He rolls out of the ring to the time keeper's table in a hurry and grabs his X-Treme Championship belt. As the crowd pops, he lifts the belt in the air before bolting to the back. Meanwhile, inside the ring, CJ is in pure shock as he just got duped out of the title and his check for an undisclosed sum!
(JB) It looks like someone just made a smarter business decision than the Corporate Businessman.
Another Problem To Be Dealt With
Fade into Commissioner Buchanan’s office, yet again. He rises out of his chair with some paperwork in his hand as Keith Owens bursts in without knocking.
The Commissioner doesn’t look pleased with this intrusion.
(Owens) Ray, we need to talk.
Buchanan chuckles to himself in regards to the arrogance of Keith. He humors the Difference Maker.
(Buchanan) And what exactly do we have to speak about Keith?
(Owens) My girlfriend and valet, Melissa Hayes. Essex and Hush have her kidnapped, and I want her back. This happened under your watch. What are you going to do to help me?
The Commissioner smirks.
(Buchanan) Keith – That is not my problem. You see, two weeks ago, someone lit Leonard Aarons on fire and I have yet to find out who did it. I’ve got the ever disrespectful Mike Stryker pissed off once again. And thats on top of dealing with punk asses like Ashley Collier and your buddy Trevor Cunning. My security force couldn’t stop Hush during his temper tantrum, and you chose to chase after that beast. I’ve got other pressing matters to deal with. I wish no harm upon Melissa, but this is your problem.
(Owens) So what? You’re not going to do anything about Hush because McJohnson couldn’t even stop him? That monster got my girlfriend captive for Gord sakes!
(Buchanan) And I’m sorry she happened to get involved in your mess. But what favors do I exactly owe you, Owens? You and your girlfriend have also been a never ending pain in my side since the NAFW re-launched nearly one year ago. You think I owe you something because your father is running for President? Not a chance. You’re a big boy Keith. You deal with Hush and do whatever you need to do to get your girlfriend back. Kevin and Tyler, Matthew and David… None of them seem to be a problem for you anymore. I’m certain you’ll be able to take care of Hush to get your girlfriend back. It’s time to grow up and learn to live with the consequences of your actions, or learn to make a difference to make change for the better.
That is your slogan, is it not?
(Owens) Funny Ray. I’m taking that as a blank check to get my girlfriend back, Buchanan.
(Buchanan) Just stay out of my way when you do it Mr. Owens.
With that, Owens storms out of the office, and we cut elsewhere.
Problem? I'll show you a Problem!
Mike Lane.
The lyrics come in, and a figure steps out from behind the curtain. But unlike last week, this time he's not alone. Right behind him are the Thomas Brothers, still dragging a now semi-conscious Twitch down the ramp.
(Tom) Twitch is going to get it now!
(JB) And you're just going to love it.
(Tom) I'll be saving this one on my TiVo for a while, I can tell you that!
The trio make their way down to the ring, reveling in the jeers directed at them by the crowd. Lane climbs up the steps, grabbing a microphone as he does so. Meanwhile, Shane and Dustin toss Twitch into the ring and slide in behind him. They drag him to the center of the ring, where Lane awaits, mic in hand.
(Lane) So, it seems I have a bit of a Spaz problem. I have a solution in mind, but we'll get to that in a minute. First, I just have to talk about Spaz's so-called "backup." We watched their match earlier, and we have to give them their due. They beat the Toiletries. Just like everyone else. A round of applause for The Goods!
Mike, Shane and Dustin do a mocking slow-clap, before Lane continues.
(Lane) So that's what you expect to stop us, Seany-boy? A couple of guys who haven't been seen or heard from for years, and didn't particularly do much when they were around?
That is, not much except turning on you at every opportunity. We saw a little video package on your pals earlier... But how about another?
Lane pauses, as soundless images appear on the NAFW-Tron. Four hooded figures, alongside Chronic assaulting Spaz and two other men (those men being a guy named Andrew Dunn and another named Ryan Cardinal - well before his Evil Sean days).
Also: Poor Kramer - last week finally realizing his hero's never coming back, only to see him on the screen tonight!
Tom jumps in with a description, as Lane and the OSE watch along with everyone else.
(Tom) Lane's got a point! The last time The Goods were around, as we're seeing right now, they made their return by destroying Spaz and his buddies at RAGE in 2002, and reforming the Impact Players with TF, Chronic and Andre Brunowski!
Right on cue, standing over a mass of destruction, the last of the hooded figures pull off their hoods, to reveal none other than Slush and Ammo. The images stop on the five men, arms raised in victory.
(JB) Since when do you remember Foundation history?
(Tom) Since I got this memo from Mike Lane a minute ago.
(JB) Right.
With the images completed, Lane continues once more.
(Lane) So Spaz, we're not afraid of your backup. Judging from your history with your "old friends," you'll be lucky if you're not facing a five-on-one sometime soon! But even if The Goods stay on your side, I don't care. In fact, that five-on-one? Never going to happen. As far as I'm concerned, The Goods are nothing, and always have been. They'd only bring us down.
Shane and Dustin nod in agreement.
(Lane) Now then... About that Spaz problem of mine. I want to be rid of it, and as I said before, I have a solution. A pretty simple one, really. It goes like so: Mike Lane versus Spaz at Redemption.
This would be the first time the fans actually cheer for something Mike Lane's said. They want to see Lane and Spaz at the PPV.
(Lane) So what do you say, Seany?
After a few moments of silence, the lights in the arena dim once again, and the rapid guitar of "Riot" by Three Days Grace rings through the arena. This time, it skips the lead-in lyrics, jumping straight into the chorus.
Spaz, Slush and Ammo, collectively The Goods, walk out to the repeating words "Let's start a riot, a riot." The looks on their faces suggest that they might follow the urgings of Three Days Grace. The trio stops on the stage, however, and the music cuts. Spaz has a microphone, and gets right down to business.
(Spaz) First of all Mike, before I leave this ramp, you're going to give Twitch back, unharmed.
(Lane) We'll see about that.
(Spaz) No, it's going to happen. Since you've let him be for now, we'll continue to other matters. But if you, or either of your cronies make a move toward Twitch, you'll regret it.
Lane says nothing, but looks to Shane and Dustin. He shakes his head slightly, indicating that they're to continue leaving Twitch alone.
(Spaz) Now, let me commend you on your use of the Foundation's archives. You've sure found a gem there... From four and a half years ago. You should know better than anyone that four-plus years is a long time in this business.
Spaz paces the ramp, as Slush and Ammo stand with their arms folded, and their eyes focused on the ring, watching for any sign of an attack on Twitch.
(Spaz) Four years ago, you were barely even a blip on the Foundation's radar. By the time you showed up and actually stuck around, I'd already won a number of Foundation Championships - the one that The Reaper has right now, for example. I'd fought with and against the likes of The Judge, The Kurreshes, The Hyatts, and even our new Legend, Kyle Cole.
In the ring, Lane is clearly starting to get impatient. Luckily for him, Spaz is coming to the point.
(Spaz) But what applies right now is the fact that among all of those men and others, I've had friends become enemies and I've made enemies into friends. And it happened in a lot shorter time than four and a half years.
Lane's apparently had enough of listening to Spaz, and thus steps away from the center of the ring, toward the ramp, and raises his microphone.
(Lane) I didn't call you out here to listen to you drop names and pat yourself on the back for past accomplishments. And I won't bother mentioning the fact that those accomplishments from before I came to this company represent the peak of your career...
Spaz interrupts.
(Spaz) And yet you just went ahead and mentioned it anyway.
Lane ignores the interjection and continues as if it never happened.
(Lane) I called you out for one reason. So either accept my challenge, or walk away like a coward. Either way, do it now, before you put me to sleep.
Spaz actually smiles.
(Spaz) How about a third option, Mike?
Lane shakes his head in a combination of anger and confusion.
(Lane) What third option?
(Spaz) Well, since you seem to like attacking people as a the little posse you've got there, why shouldn't you fight as one at Redemption? You have your backup, I have mine. I'd be a fool to believe that the Thomases wouldn't get involved in a one-on-one match, and you'd be a fool to believe that Slush and Ammo wouldn't come out to stop them. So let's just skip the preliminary of the one-on-one and make it three-on-three to begin with!
The fans like this idea. But Lane? Not so much. He actually laughs.
(Lane) Why would I agree to that?
Spaz smiles again, which only serves to irritate Mike Lane.
(Spaz) I had a feeling you might say that. So here's the deal: A few weeks ago, you and I took away one of the Three Wishes. That Wish is no good to either of us, unless we can agree on a use for it... And I don't see that happening any time soon. So if you accept a six-man tag at Redemption, I'll agree to put that Wish on the line. If your team wins, it's all yours. If you lose, it goes to me.
Lane doesn't even need to confer with the Thomas brothers on this one. He wants that Wish.
(Lane) Done.
Cue fans. Oh, and JB. He's kept his mouth shut a lot longer than usual, and is probably about ready to burst.
(JB) Book it! Lane and the Old School Empire against The Goods at Redemption, with a Wish on the line! This is going to be a slobber knocker!
Yes folks, he just pulled it out. This is the consequence of JB Mann keeping quiet for too long. Last time these words came out on a show, somebody pressed the Commentary Filter button. I won't go that far this time, though.
I will, however, tell you that Spaz, flanked by Slush and Ammo, have begun to make their way down the ramp.
(Spaz) Now that that's settled, you can go. All three of you. And leave Twitch.
(Tom) Oh, I'd forgotten about Twitch.
(JB) Well, Spaz sure didn't!
Lane smiles a wicked smile, as The Goods continue toward ringside.
(Lane) Oh, we could go. We don't have matches tonight, so you'd think that there's no reason for us to stick around. But we already have Twitch out here in the middle of the ring... It'd be such a shame to waste this opportunity to get a little warm-up for Redemption.
Lane drops the mic, and as if it was a predetermined signal, Shane and Dustin pick Twitch up off the ground, while Lane turns toward them. Twitch, having only recently returned to consciousness, puts up little to no resistance.
Thankfully for him, Spaz had suspected from the beginning that Lane wasn't going to leave Twitch, and by the time Lane finished his sentence, all three of The Goods were already running the rest of the way to the ring.
(JB) Looks like we're going to get a preview of Redemption right here and now!
(Tom) I don't think you're going to like it, Mannwagon!
Seeing The Goods rapidly approaching, Shane and Dustin drop Twitch back to the ground, and suggest that Lane to turns around. Twitch wisely scurries to the far corner and out of the ring.
Spaz slides into the ring and is up on his feet faster than any one of Lane's posse can get to him. He rushes forward and leaps, connecting with his trademark spinning heel kick, knocking Lane to the ground.
(JB) Sweets Kick!
In the meantime, Slush - the smaller and faster between himself and Ammo - has pulled himself up onto the apron. Shane Thomas heads straight for him, and Slush ducks a clothesline, driving a shoulder into the Alpha's gut. As Shane doubles over, his brother Dustin runs toward the ropes and dives over, making himself a human missile, with the behemoth Ammo his target.
(Tom) You go Dustin!
Ammo sees it coming and catches the high-flier in his massive arms. Ammo slams the younger Thomas brother into the apron, then lifts Dustin into a press, and pushes him into the ring through the middle and top ropes.
(Tom) Oh no! Dustin!
Well rhymed, Bear.
Lane and Spaz are getting back up, while Slush forces Shane Thomas into the nearest corner, and Ammo is steps over the top rope a leg at a time. Spaz and Ammo make eye contact, and after Spaz looks toward Lane, Ammo nods. Spaz runs to the far ropes and heads back toward Lane, who catches Spaz and spins him around into a sleeper hold.
(Tom) Watch your back, Mike!
Lane feels the tap of a large finger on his shoulder, and turns himself and Spaz around. Lane pushes Spaz toward Ammo, and dashes back toward the ropes. Meanwhile, in the corner, Slush goes back to his brawling roots and drives a knee into Shane Thomas's crotch.
(Tom) Isn't Slush supposed to be a good guy?
(JB) As far as I'm concerned, a Nutcracker on Shane Thomas is pretty darn good!
Ammo sets Spaz safely aside, just before Lane makes his way back. Ammo stops Lane with a boot to the face. He then lifts Lane up into wheelbarrow position, holding him straight out at about waist-level. Slush sees this, and knows exactly what it means. He runs across the ring, leaps into the air, and connects with the Judgement Call. As his leg lands on Mike Lane's neck, Ammo sits out, adding to the impact.
(JB) Delivering The Goods!!
What JB just said is Slush and Ammo's name for that combination, by the way.
So at this point, Lane is down and so is Shane. All that remains is Dustin, who is just now getting back up, a hand on his back. Before Dustin realizes, Spaz is already there. Spaz wastes no time, and drops Dustin with a Flatliner, which I'll let JB call.
(JB) Sugar Rush!! Lane and The Old School Empire are down and out! I think they've now realized what they've walked into at Redemption!
(Tom) Crap!
With the fighting over, Twitch - who spent the battle circling the outside - has climbed back into the ring, and on the way he picks up the microphone that Lane dropped earlier. He hands it to Spaz.
(Spaz) Mike said something earlier that rang quite true to me...
He kneels, next to Lane.
(Spaz) We three, The Goods, are going to bring. You. Down!
Spaz drops the microphone, and leads his partners and manager out of the ring and up the ramp, accompanied by "Riot."
(JB) The Goods - all three of them - have sent a message to Mike Lane and the Thomas brothers, Bear!
(Tom) Then Slush and Ammo really are robots! It's the only way, I tell you!
(JB) Face it Bear! You can call them robots all you want, but The Goods are going to be a force around here!
(Tom) Damn robots!
COMMERCIAL
Derek Clarke vs. Monsieur Jacques Mehoff
The opening chords to Sevendust’s "Driven" signify the entrance of… of… Wait for it...
Right. The NAFW Legacy himself: Derek F’n Clarke.
The fans are uncertain how to react to the former member of Far n’ Wide, The Sickness and the FLF. Clarke was quite the dick during his last tenure – but he was also a former NAFW Tag Team Champion – is he trying to turn over a new leaf – or is he continuing down the same, winding road towards the dark side.
In the ring, Clarke stretches and adjusts his gear, methodically repeating motions like his arms, like his hands are the hands of a clock.
(JB) The young Derek Clarke has another interesting challenge on tap for tonight.
(Tom) Why is that JB? He's just facing some wanker.
(JB) From what I've heard, Jacques is an esteemed competitor from French Canada, going as far as to be trained in the Hart Family Dungeon at one time.
(Tom) Right, well, we'll see what this Frenchie Canadian has to offer.
Billy Idol's "Dancing With Myself" hits the speakers and out comes Monsier Jacques Mehoff, a light weight, fair skinned competitor sporting a dainty handlebar mustache. His ring attire consists of simple black singlet of spandex that runs from his mid shins up into overalls with the Canadian Maple Leaf over his... man regions. Underneath he wears a black and white stripped shirt where the sleeves extend to the mid forearm. And of course, on top of his head, is a beret.
(JB) Mr. Mehoff certainly has interesting ring attire.
(Tom) Ring attire? How about that mustache!
(JB) I guess we shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Lets see what he has to offer in the ring.
This match isn't a very long affair. In fact, it's only about three minutes and forty six seconds long. Monsier Jacques Mehoff is slightly quicker than Clarke in the ring, but Clarke seems to have a slight strength advantage. Mehoff catches Clarke off-guard early on, whipping him into the corner and nailing a bronco buster. It doesn't last long and it causes Clarke to shape up, quickly grappling him into a belly to back suplex into a tree of woe. Clarke runs and connects with a knee to the groin of Mehoff. The referee demands Clarke take Mehoff out of the tree of woe. After all, that's no way to treat a foreign dignitary. Clarke does so and makes a pin cover, only getting a two count. Clarke isn't pleased, so he drags his opponent up to his feet where Mehoff starts making a jerking motion with his fist by his crotch, followed by an uppercut. Jacques Mehoff celebrates the move, known as Le Explosion, which only fazed Clarke slightly. Derek is tired of the games and decides to put an end to it. He's quick to snap suplex his opponent, followed by a series of clothes lines, which he rallies into a Northern Lights Suplex. He bridges the move and gets the three count.
(Tom) Ol' Cougar's nephew seems to be getting his act together in the ring again.
(JB) Indeed. The world is his oyster at this point.
Hawke Interview
Fade in.
What you're about to see is an industry-standard interview segment. Our subject is the six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-eighty-five-pound behemoth, known as Sebastian Hawke. Standing next to him is his comparatively smaller-framed father, Anthony Hawke.
And of course, sitting across from them is the always serious, ever prepared John Mills. He's attentively sitting forward in his chair, as his face turns towards the camera.
(John) Ladies and gentlemen, Anthony and Sebastian Hawke here with yours truly.
And in a general act of courtesy, he motions his hand, open palm, towards the father and son duo as he turns to them.
(John) And thank you two for joining us, merely nights before you, Sebastian Hawke, step into the ring to face Ashley Collier at Redemption.
As John speaks, the camera cuts to two isolated close-up shots of Anthony and Sebastian, one after the other. Neither of them are smiling. Quite the contrary, the resemblance between the two is uncanny, as they both have the same crease in their brow when they are serious, the same slant to their lips when they are contemplative. Their attitudes fill the air with a somber stillness, as if they were delegates of the United Nations as the world sat on the brink of war.
At least one of them was ready for war, at least.
(Anthony) Glad to be here, John.
Sebastian merely nods in agreement.
(John) So, Sebastian. Given the recent altercations between yourself and Mr. Collier, how do you feel about heading into such an emotionally charged match up between you two at Redemption?
(Anthony) It's quite obvious, isn't it?
Not quite what we were expecting, including Sebastian himself. His father, face still quite swollen from the brass knuckle shots he took two weeks ago, sits forward. With his elbows resting on his knees, he clasps his hands together, pressing them under his chin. He pauses for a moment before starting to elaborate.
(Anthony) My son has the blood of a Texan in him. He knows how to deal with dirty players. We deal with 'em the ol' traditional way. We take 'em out back and shoot 'em like the dawgs they are! This Ashley Collier boy ain't no kinds of different neither. He's another one of them young scruffnecked bastards that're thinkin' they're gonna make a mark by disgracing this very sport that they compete in. They get tuh thinkin' that by showin' off how dirty of ah player they can be, they'll get inside somebody's head, but that ain't the truth here with my boy Sebastian! Nuh uh!
Someone's definitely fired up, as his hands are motioning all about. Sebastian just watches in amusement, nodding in agreement subtly, from the side. John listens, smiling appreciatively at all of Anthony's statements.
(Anthony) Y'see, like I taught my boy when he was just a wee lil' amateur wrassler, I told him if he wanted to make it as a Professional Wrestler he'd have to watch out for the same underhanded crap that they pulled in those college tournaments. Everyone wants to have a leg up, but they don't want to work for it! People like Collier think they can get inside someone's head and get a free ride off of it! That's not how my son is. He's a goddang bull in a china shop. He sees somethin' that needs'a'breakin' and he's gonna break it! All month long, this Ashley boy has been wavin' the red flag at my son but he ain't gonna have nowhere to run when it comes to Redemption!
Sebastian finally sits forward, smiling at his father.
(Sebastian) What my father's trying to say is this, John. Ashley seems to think that he's got me all figured out. He's probably feeling like he's on some kind of roll because he interfered in my match with Jake Rydell or maybe because he caught my father and beat him up, but there's a big difference between beating my father and getting into a ring with me. You see, when Ashley and I get face to face in that ring, it's going to be a whole different story. He can bring his brass knuckles. He can bring all the tricks in the bag he wants, but when I take him in my hands and wrap my seventeen inch arms around his scrawny neck, we're going to see exactly who gets "Knocked The Fuck Out".
(John) So, do you not respect Ashley as a competitor?
(Sebastian) What's there to respect, John? He's done nothing but sneak attack after sneak attack. He's nothing better than a rat. At least guys like Leonard Aarons and The Judge have had the balls to face someone man to man, to stand up someone nose-to-nose and say "Let's do this, right here, right now." This guy comes across to me like he's afraid to face me, because I've received nothing but punk ass attempt after punk ass attempt. How am I supposed to feel about him? He's done nothing to make me feel any other way and at Redemption, I'm going to put all his punk ass attempts to the test of truth; a one on one match where there is only one way to declare a winner, by putting his shoulders to the mat for the academic three count.
(John) However, Ashley has quite a bit of a record himself--
(Sebastian) Of losing? Seriously. Last match he was in, was against Mike Stryker at Body Count in 2005. How long ago was that? I mean, I understand he's probably been training, but he's going into the PPV cold turkey, not having wrestled a match in almost two years? And he wants to go toe to toe with me? Not that I'm under estimating him, but come on. I was 'this' close to winning the Ultimate Showdown Tournament. People have named me one of the future Foundation Heavyweight Champions and that's exactly where I'm headed, John. Collier is just going to be one BIG example of what happens when you play games with me. I'm all business in that ring and when you start doing that kiddie shit, I'm going to beat you like you deserve it.
(John) Strong words, Sebastian. I wish you both all of the best of luck at Redemption.
Fade Out.
Disasterpiece Theatre II: A Trip to the Scrapyards
Cunning comes to the ring, calling out VYC the entire way to the ring. In the ring, he calls VYC a coward and a queer - tells him to come out and fight. Well then, Cunning says, if you won't fight - maybe this will change your mind.
He motions to the screen, where a clip plays. Earlier this week, Cunning drove to the Scrapyards training facility, and spraypainted anti-VYC messages and slurs all over the walls, before setting the Scrapyards ring on fire.
The building nearly burned down.
VYC can take no more, popping out of the crowd from behind to attack Cunning. They brawl, Cunning bails, only to meet Cole on the ramp. He eats a Superkick. Cole gets in the ring with VYC - takes one look at him, says he has only one thing to say to VYC.
Dreamweaver Deluxe
"I don't play favorites."
Out.
He Speaks of Redemption
KRYSTIAN
The words burn across the once black screen, as the voice from earlier once again speaks.
(? ? ?) The beacon of light shall shine down upon those seeking Redemption... And they shall be denied.
The banner for Redemption replaces the name of Krystian, then it too fades away.
COMMERCIAL
All By Myself
We are moments away from the NAFW Tag Team Title Match between Jake Rydell and his partner Peter Gilmour and the champs, the Trust Fund Kids consisting of Trevor Cunning and Keith Owens. The scene switches to the back of the Contintental Airlines Arena where Peter Gilmour is seen pacing around. He moves from side to side at a fast pace. By his demeanor, he seems very pissed off. He then kicks a trash can, scattering litter everywhere. Mark Herriot sees Peter and runs up to him.
(Mark) Peter, have you heard from Jake Rydell yet concerning your match tonight with the Trust Fund Kids?
Peter looks at Mark with an evil stare. He grabs Mark’s hand and puts the microphone to his lips.
(Peter) No, I haven’t. But it’s all good. I don’t need that moron’s help. I can win the tag team belts by my damn self. In case you forgot, I was a former tag team champion myself. So with or without Jake, I will shock the world, when I beat Keith and Trevor BY MYSELF and become the NEW NAFW Tag team Champion.
(Mark) That may be true. Now assuming you DO win the belts, who would you like ot have as a partner?
(Peter) Are you deaf? I just said I don’t need a partner. I could defend the tag belts by myself. You see Mark, I am a one man wrecking machine. I go to the ring with one goal, and that is to inflict as much pain as possible on my opponents. Trevor and Keith may be the champions, but after tonight, they will be nothing more than FORMER TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS. Trevor, Keith, prepare to be broken. Your reign as tag champs ends tonight!
Peter gives a wicked smile and then heads off as Mark tries to get another question in.
(Mark) But what about Jake Rydell?
Mark just watches Peter walk down the hallway and shakes his head as we fade out.
Steal The Lion's Crown...Catch The Stick
(The Reaper) I told ya I didn't need a bandage.
It's here that he spots John Mills, causing Aarons to have a rather indifferent look on his face.
(The Reaper) I'm seriously not in the mood for the Jersey Inquisition right now, John John. But make it quick, I've got a belt to retrieve.
(John) Okay, I was hoping to get your thoughts on the attack by Stryker and...
It's here that Aarons sighs, before swinging the Lendo Stick to where the barb wire stops mere inches away from John's face. John opens his eyes, to see a slew of barb wire in front of him, the light bouncing off of it causing it to glisten rather viciously.
(The Reaper) You read between the lines and tell me what I'm thinking. That bastard took it upon himself to wreck my car, ambush me from behind and take something that didn't belong to him. I may not have proof that he started the fire, but now it's truly irrelevant.
(John) Bu...bu..but...don't you think that...
It's extremely hard for John to keep his cool with something as sharp as barb wire in his face. He wants to move, but his body's keeping him from doing so at present time.
(The Reaper) Do I think that Lendo's looking to introduce himself to Mikey tonight and see if he likes it, if he really really likes it. He tells me that I messed with the wrong bull and got the horns tonight. I will show him that when you steal the Lion's crown, you're going to feel the wrath of his pointy stick.
John doesn't get another question out, as Aarons storms out in a fury as the fans roar for their homestate hero who's hot in pursuit of his title.
(JB) How is Reaper still walking?
(Tom) Barely is your answer. Let’s see if Peter Gilmour is still able to walk after he takes on the Trust Fund Kids alone in this next match.
Peter Gilmour & Jake Rydell vs. The Trust Fund Kids (Keith Owens & Trevor Cunning) (TT)
Tag Team Championship
Everyone knows what Puff Daddy’s "It’s All About The Benjamins" rock remix means. The Tag Team Champions, the Trust Fund Kids, are here. Cunning has his standard arsenal of two popped polo shirts, the first being baby blue and the under-polo being hot pink, his championship belt, and of course, his bottle of Jack Daniels. He takes his time basking in the jeers of the crowd as gold pyro showers down from the heavens above. Keith Owens isn’t in the mood for that tonight as he quickly brushes past Cunning down the ramp, taking off the belt around his waist in the process. The two enter the ring, and like before, Cunning poses in the corner while Owens simply hands over his belt to the officiating referee.
(JB) Owens seems to have a lot on his mind.
(Tom) Literally.
The lights in the arena go out and then a violent explosion of fire comes from the ramp. The beginning drum beat from the song PAINKILLER by Judas Priest starts to kick in. The lights on the NAFW-tron start to flicker on and off, then another explosion of fire is heard as the guitar riif begins. Peter Gilmour is down next, unsure if Jake Rydell is going to show up.
(Tom) And it seems like the Human Killer lacks a partner in crime tonight.
(JB) Gilmour is still trying to make a name for himself in the Foundation. I suppose challenging the Trust Fund Kids by himself is one way to do it.
(Tom) It’s also a good way to end up getting beat in thirty seconds.
The referee asks him where his partner is and Gilmour has no idea. The referee tells him he's going to have to start the match by himself, to which Gilmour agrees. Keith Owens is clearly in no mood to be defending the NAFW Tag Team Championship tonight as he's got bigger things on his mind, namely, Hush. Cunning offers to start the match against Gilmour. Owens agrees, still annoyed that Rydell hasn't shown up and is taking up more time he could be using trying to get Melissa back. Just as the referee is about to ring the bell, Rydell saunters down from the back and gets into his corner with Gilmour.
Gilmour and Cunning lock up, with the veteran having the advantage. Cunning dominates easy and of course is very cocky about it. Gilmour manages to gain some small momentum and catches Cunning off guard with a series of strikes to the face followed by a DDT that takes the former Foundation Heavyweight Champion down. Cunning gets back up grabbing his head and Gilmour sneaks behind him for a school boy roll-up. It gets a two count, which Cunning protests as a one count. Owens, not pleased with how long Cunning is taking to end this match, tags himself in and begins to work over Gilmour while the referee sends Cunning back to the corner. The two exchange holds until Owens breaks free and hits him with a series of mid kicks. He whips Gilmour off the ropes and hits him with a springboard low spinning back kick from the 2nd rope. Owens hooks the leg but only gets a two count. Back on their feet, Gilmour attempts a verticle suplex on Owens but Owens wiggles out and lands behind Gilmour, hitting him with a big German suplex. He quickly lifts Gilmour up and whips him into the Trust Fund Kids corner where Cunning takes it upon himself to hold Gilmour illegally. Owens lowers his kneepads and runs the Owens Express right into the chest of Gilmour to a big reaction from the crowd. Cunning shoves Gilmour out onto the mat and as Owens turns around, Cunning blindly tags himself in. Owens shoots Cunning a look of death and the two begin to bicker. As they argue, Gilmour crawls to his own corner and pulls himself up. Rydell decides he's going to tag in and saunters into the ring. He shoves Cunning from behind to get his attention. The referee forces Owens to exit, and by the time Owens is out of the ring, Cunning has already hit the Boot and Rally double armed DDT followed by a Sobriety Test for good measure. The three count is academic. Cunning celebrates wildly while Owens does not look amused.
(Tom) Trevor Cunning does it again!
(JB) What are you talking about? Owens had that match won after the Owens Express on Gilmour. Cunning had no business tagging back into that match!
(Tom) Gilmour shmilmour.
(JB) Pete does not look happy after hanging in there against the Trust Fund Kids for Rydell to blow the match like that.
Enough Is Enough… Or Is It?
As Rydell rolls out of the ring in disgrace, Gilmour follows after demanding to know why he barely bothered to show up, then just got his ass handed to him by Trevor Cunning after he had fought hard all match to hang in there. By the time the two of them are up the ramp, Owens stands in the middle of the ring with a microphone in hand.
(Owens) Hush... Essex... I know you're back there. I know Buchanan isn't going to do jack because of all the things I've done in my past. So this is it Essex. I'm not playing games any longer. Enough is enough. You've got Melissa and I want her back, whatever the cost.
Owens waits around, but there's still no response from Hush or Essex in the back.
(Owens) Whats it going to be Essex? What's your price? You want me one on one? Fine. We can do it here tonight, with Melissa on the line!
The crowd pops for this. Still, there's no response from the back.
(Owens) Damn it Essex. What more do you want? Come out here and name your stipulation. Name your price Essex, I'll pay it.
Owens, with Cunning still in the ring, paces around waiting for a response. Just as he raises the mic to his lips yet again. Suddenly, a clusterfuck of drum and bass begin to thunder and all of the lights in the arena mysteriously tint to a sickly shade of grey, 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".
The 6-foot-eleven-inch monstrosity with but one name, Hush, stepped out and through the NAFW curtains with Melissa Hayes in tow on a chain. Hush is 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. Melissa Hayes screams in agony. Keith nearly dives halfway out of the ring before being restrained by Cunning who tells him to wait it out.
The lights come back on and Essex has a microphone in his hand as him, his monster, and their captive stand at the top of the ramp.
(Essex) So Owens... You want your harlot back? And you're willing to sacrifice yourself to get her back? How noble. Shall we break out the shining armor and knight you while we're at it?
Owens does not look happy, but Essex puts up his hand, signaling for him to hold his horses. Owens doesn't listen.
(Owens) Name your price, Essex, and do it now.
(Essex) Or what? You'll attack Hush like you did last week? We all saw how well that ended for you. Now you'll listen to me young man.
Essex pauses a moment and Owens decides to listen.
(Essex) You see Keith, at Death Wish, you made a very big mistake by sticking your nose where it didn't belong. You taunted my monster. You spoke of fallacies such as your greatness compared to Hush, and that is utter blasphemy. So what happened on Annihilation when my monster was in a rage over not finding one Mike Stryker in the arena? You got in the way.
And when my monster came across you and your glorious big gold belt, he snapped it in two, right before your own very eyes. So you got a little angry, and when you confronted my monster yet again, you drew your harlot into the crossfire, so we claimed her as our bargaining chip.
Owens raises his mic and cuts off Essex.
(Owens) What do you mean by "bargaining chip"?
(Essex) Owens, not even you, the most decorated man in this company, had the stomach to stand face to face with my monster for more than a moment. Hush is the most dominant competitor in this company, and he deserves to be recognized as such. You showed no such respect or recognition, nor would you ever face him on your own accord to defend those dubious distinctions you raised above those of Hush. So I made the decision to take the one thing you might fight for, and it turns out I was right.
(Owens) Then lets fight for her. Right. Now.
The crowd begins to pop but Essex silences them.
(Essex) Don't you get it Owens? Is not her we're interested in keeping. This is no story of beauty and the beast. There is no Stockholm syndrome asphyxiated to your harlot, Owens. She still pines for you. So let's clear the air on that. She is not what we're interested in. In fact. you can have her back. Right. Now.
Essex signals to Hush, who wraps both arms around her neck and rips apart her metal confines. Owens lunges again at this sign of mistreatment, but once more Cunning grabs Owens and pulls him back so he doesn't make any rash and stupid mistakes again since Melissa is on the verge of being released.
Melissa slinks two steps down the ramp before Hush extends his massive reach and pulls her back by the hair.
(Essex) You can have her back Owens, just not in one piece – much like your prized Grand Slam Championship.
And with that, Hush grabs Melissa by the throat once more and lifts her nearly ten feet in the air before he chokeslams her off the side of the stage through a table!
The crowd errupts with boos as well as a Holy Shit chant!
Owens' jaw nearly drops as Cunning turns around confused as to what just happened. Owens pushes past Cunning and darts for the side of the stage to check on Melissa. The crowd is still going wild.
Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!
Essex stands at the top of the ramp laughing at his monster's heinous act. Melissa's body is contorted over the shards of broken table as Keith hovers over her in disbelief, checking on her vitals. He screams for a medic and the EMTs are there on short notice.
(Essex) Owens... We'll see you at Redemption, where Hush will reign supreme.
The EMT's are stabilizing Melissa's neck and moving her onto a stretcher as Owens looks up with a look of pure hatred on his face.
(Owens) Essex... I'm going to BURY. HUSH. ALIVE.
Essex snarls down at Owens, as the "Difference Maker" has seemingly issued a Buried Alive match challenge.
(JB) I'm in pure shock. I'm... speechless at what we just witnessed. We'll be back after this commercial break.
COMMERCIAL
As we come back from commercial, we see Melissa Hayes being loaded via stretcher into an ambulance with Keith Owens looking on. The shot then cuts to the announce table.
(JB) Ladies and gentlemen, moments ago we saw Hush, at the command of his handler Essex, chokeslam Melissa Hayes off the stage through a table! We have no idea what the status of her medical condition is as she is being transported to a local medical facility as we speak.
(Tom) She learned a valuable lesson Mannwagon. She can't be a part of the Trust Fund without expecting to get a little dirty. She knew the risks of the job when she signed on to help Keith Owens defeat David Kurresh.
(JB) She's no wrestler Tom. No matter what she may have done in the past, she's certainly done nothing to Essex and Hush. And even if she had, no man has the right to lay his hands on another woman like that.
(Tom) Hush is no man JB. Hush is a pure monster.
(JB) And at Redemption, we'll see who will prevail in a Buried Alive match between the monster Hush and "The Difference Maker" Keith Owens.
I'm Sorry...SO Sorry
(JB) Well isn't this rather conveinent? Aarons gets attacked tonight and here comes Vanessa to gloat about the whole thing.
(Tom) Hey, have a heart. She's just out here to revel in his suffering along with me and the rest of the...
(JB) You were saying?
(Tom) Sorry, got lost in her uh...eyes.
What he really meant to say was cleavage, but that's neither here nor there. She's rather deliberate with her strides, not taking her usual sweet time getting down to the ring as she slides inside under the bottom rope and gets a mic from Gilmore who takes his leave as she starts towards the far side of the ring stopping as she listens to the catcalls and boos as the music fades.
(Vanessa) I'm out here tonight not to gloat about a man's suffering, but to apologize for one man's loss. You see, a week ago, I came out here trying to warn Mike that The Reaper was coming and unfortunately for him...I did more harm than good. It was not my intent to cost him his Atlantic Championship and as a result, I'd like to apologize to him personally for...
Ask and ye shall receive, Vanessa.
"Till I Collapse" by Eminem starts to play its way through the Continental Airlines Arena. The building is dark, save the NYC skyline glaring its way across the NAFWTron. As the familiar opening builds, the arena’s reaction is both raucous and mixed. Half the arena is cheering for Stryker, relatively in his hometown, loyal to the Big City Hitman. The other half, Aarons supporters, since we’re in the Reaper's hometown, are jeering as if Osama Bin Laden just walked in. Half the building is going ballistic…half is calling for blood…nobody is sitting down.
The reaction kicks up another three notches as Mike Stryker walks out onto the ramp, Foundation Championship in his hands. He raises the belt over his head, displaying the golden prize currently smeared in blood. He lowers his arm and locks eyes with Vanessa Chamberlain. As he stalks his way to the ring, it’s clear that she’s rethinking her decision to do this in person. Stryker’s got that look. It’s the same look that he once had when he found himself mid-ring with former NAFW eye candy, T-Bird. Vanessa has heard about what he did then. She may or may not have believed it, but now?
The look in his eyes makes it clear he may do the same thing to her.
As Stryker steps through the ropes, Vanessa retreats to a corner of the ring, cowering a bit. Stryker steps to the middle of the ring, roducing a microphone from his pocket, he stares a hole through Vanessa as he speaks. She’s holding the top rope like a security blanket as Stryker speaks.
(Stryker) Vanessa…you said that you wanted to apologize to me for costing me the Atlantic Championship. You said you wanted to apologize PERSONALLY to me. Well, hearing you say that, I thought I’d take it upon myself to come down to this ring and give you a chance to do just that. However…there’s a catch.
Vanessa cowers more as Stryker continues. He’s an inch from cracking and she knows it. Whatever the catch is…it can’t be good. He steps closer to Vanessa as he speaks.
(Stryker) Listen carefully, because I’m not going to repeat myself.
A slight nod from Ms. Chamberlain.
(Stryker) You have exactly ONE chance to apologize. When you do apologize, in your one chance, you have to look me in the eyes and make me believe it. You need to convince me that you’re truly sorry for what you did. You need to convince me that you’re sorry for what happened. If you can do that, then go ahead…but if you CAN’T…
I’m going to have to get my satisfaction some other way. Are we clear?
Vanessa nods, on the brink of tears.
(Stryker) Good. Then go ahead Vanessa. Apologize.
Vanessa lifts the mic to her mouth, her stuttered breathing comes through loud and clear. She’s scared to death right now. She tries her best to compose herself as she starts.
(Vanessa) Mike…I….I don’t know what to say…..I came to ringside last week to warn you about Leonard. I came to the ring last week hoping to help you, so that he didn’t hurt you. That was all I wanted to do. I swear to you, I NEVER wanted to hurt you. I NEVER wanted to cost you that match, or your title. Mike, I SWEAR it!!! I was just trying to help!! You HAVE to believe me!!!!
Vanessa drops the mic and breaks down, tears streaming as Stryker moves in closer. Her fear and emotions paralyze her in the corner as Stryker is within arms reach. The most bloodthirsty fans are cheering for Stryker to take Vanessa out, while the rest are watching, hoping that Vanessa was convincing enough.
(Stryker) Vanessa…… Vanessa… look at me.
Vanessa takes a deep, hot, teary breath and looks up at Stryker.
(Stryker) Vanessa…… I believe you.
Vanessa looks up, a shred of joy breaking through as Stryker continues.
(Stryker) Yes, I believe you. I believe that you never intended to cost me my Atlantic Title. I believe that your intentions were good, and that what happened was an accident.
Vanessa nods along, her face breaking into a tear-soaked smile.
(Stryker) But nothing about what’s happened in the last few weeks has had anything to do with intentions. When Leonard Aarons was lit on fire, nobody said anything about intentions. Nobody cared if it was an accident or not. Nobody bothered to care. All that mattered were actions. Actions and consequences. Vanessa, that’s all that ever really matters. Your actions and the consequences. So sure, I believe you…I’m sure you INTENDED for things to happen differently. But unfortunately for you, they didn’t. All that matters is what you did, and what you caused. The bottom line is that you cost me my Atlantic title. You need to be held accountable for your actions.
Earlier I held Leonard accountable.
So while I believe you Vanessa… I sure as hell don’t FORGIVE you.
Stryker drops both the FHC and the mic and grabs Vanessa by the hair, pulling her violently out of the corner. The crowd explodes in it’s mix of cheers and jeers as Stryker pulls Vanessa mid ring. He rips her head backwards to whisper something into her ear, something we’ll never know but can probably guess at. He then proceeds to set her up for the Paradigm Shift as the arena goes ballistic with cheers.
(Tom) SPIKE HER!!!
(JB) LOOK!!! THE REAPER IS HERE!!!
Just as Stryker prepares to spike Vanessa, a loud roar followed by the sharpening of claws brings that to a halt. This goes right into "Go To Sleep" by Eminem, DMX and Obie Trice as "The Reaper" comes out with his Lendo Stick in his right hand and a mic in his left. Stryker smirks a little at Aarons, who isn't smiling at all after the night he’s had. And for great reason I might add given all that's happened over the past few weeks, not to mention the events earlier in the evening. The fans are chanting his name, which slowly starts to revert back to that rather evil exterior we're seeing, but after looking around and soaking in the atmosphere, his brown eyes are locked in on the man in the ring.
(The Reaper) Ya know Mikey, up until tonight I honestly thought you were probably one of the smarter men walking around this place. I mean, I knew you were brave going after Big Tall Adjective Guy the way you did and winning...but wow. You're so hard up for a title shot against me that you vandalize my car and try to toss me through the windshield of it?! That takes balls. Not much on brains, especially if you consider what has gone down to the few poor souls who have thought it was a great idea to piss me off…but for you to do what you’ve done to me…
He lowers the mic and places it on the ground, giving Stryker applause rather briefly. He bends down to retrieve the microphone, shaking his head as he sighs.
(The Reaper) Wow. If it meant that much to you to get your 15 minutes of fame and one crack at the 15 gold strap you've temporarily taken from me, hell son, all you had to do was ask. You’ve got it. Now growing up here in New Jersey...
Huge pop for the mention of New Jersey. Not that Aarons needs to get cheap pops, but it never hurts does it?
(The Reaper) My father told me something that I've adopted as my own to this very day. That being, you can show me a lot better than you can tell me. You've shown me just how badly you want to be Foundation Heavyweight Champion by beating up my ride, ambushing me out of nowhere and bullying a woman. Now let me show you just how royally fucked you're about to be because of it.
The mic hits the ground with a rather loud thud as Aarons charges down towards the ring as Stryker backs out to the center, ready to greet him. Aarons slides in and as Stryker tries to get the jump on him, is greeted with the blunt end of the Lendo Stick. Aarons hits an uppercut to stand Stryker up and the two start to trade punches as the fans really get into it.
(Buchanan) STOP THIS NOW!!! THAT'S ENOUGH!!!
Commissioner Buchanan steps out with microphone in hand as the fans are into the slugfest that has broken out inside the ring with Vanessa watching on. Aarons and Stryker are totally oblivious to the Commissioner's request, as the fans are chanting 'Let Them Fight' to the high heavens. Ray on the other hand has seen way too much carnage, so out pours security in what seems to be droves to separate the two. For all of maybe a half minute, it appears to be stopped, but Stryker wiggles free and Aarons has powered through the wave of guards that restrained him and he manages to catch Stryker with an unexpected Garden State Pounce which folds Stryker up rather fast. Chants of 'N-A-F-W' ring out as the Jersey native pounds away on Stryker, but they're finally restrained as Buchanan sends out a few more security personnel to separate them for good. Stryker's held on the outside while Aarons remains on the inside, his belt is currently in the clutches of Vanessa as all eyes are now on the Commissioner.
(Buchanan) Now I've had just about all I can stand of this tonight. For the past few weeks, from the fire incident in Boston to you Leonard, costing Mike his title against Crazy Boy and now Mike stealing your title tonight and vandalizing your car...I've had it. Now since Mike seems to want a shot at the title and Leonard seems more than willing to grant it, I think we've got ourselves something to work with. So at Redemption...HEY!!! If either of you lay a finger on each other in the next 30 seconds, consider it a wash gents. Calm down! Now, at Redemption it will be The Big City Hitman going one on one with The Reaper for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!!!
The fans erupt for that one, as Stryker nods his head approving as Aarons has his eyes locked on the Big City Hitman before shifting his head towards Vanessa who has his property. There's still a lot of tension between the two, as evident by the fact that she's all but frozen in place but has a slightly disdainful and rather grateful glare in her eyes all rolled into one. She walks over to Aarons and slings the belt to him, which he catches with his left hand and exits the ring without saying so much as another word to her former man. Aarons walks over and raises the strap in his left hand while pointing at Stryker with the right and strikes his signature pose after making a staggered cutthroat sign to get the crowd going some more.
Stryker simply stares back at The Reaper, motioning around his waist, smirking that smirk that we all know so well. The two men stare each other down from a distance as the NAFW logo comes up on screen
(JB) STRYKER VERSUS AARONS!! THE FOUNDATION HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP WILL BE ON THE LINE AT REDEMPTION!!! IT'S GOING TO BE AN ABSOLUTE WAR!!!!
Roll that logo.
