At the same time a countdown appears on screen.
The guitar riff is playing over this countdown.
0:03… 0:02… 0:01… 0:00…
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!!
BOOM!!!
As the NAFW pyrotechnic showcase ends, the crowd continues to buzz in anticipation. After a few seconds the house lights all come down, eliciting the crowd to get just a little louder.
A few seconds of silence take over as the din in the arena stays steady.
No commentary.
No lights.
The silence finally ends as “’Til I Collapse” by Eminem begins to play through the arena. The NAFWTron lights up with images of the NYC Skyline.
The crowd, in a word, is insane. The music’s opening is drowned out by the roar of approval from the fans, loud enough to shake the camera slightly as the music continues.
YO LEFT…YO LEFT…YO LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT.
YO LEFT…YO LEFT…YO LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT.
The beat of the song kicks in as the house lights all come back on at once, drowning the arena in light. At the same time, the crowd goes from insane to a frenzy that can’t be described in a word. They react to what they see on the stage. They react to the one man standing there by himself, soaking it all in.
They react to the Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
They react to the Big City Hitman.
They react to Mike Stryker.
Stryker stands at the top of the ramp, in his familiar hooded sweatshirt, in his familiar pose with his right arm raised over his head. However, it’s not just a fist at the end of that arm.
It’s the Foundation Heavyweight Championship belt.
Stryker breaks his pose, grinning ear to ear as he marches over to stage right. He holds his prize high as he can as the crowd goes ballistic for it. He marches to stage left and repeats to an equally ballistic ovation.
As Stryker begins to make his way down the aisle, slapping hands with as many people as he can as he goes, the familiar voice of JB Mann greets the TV audience.
(JB) Folks, for the first time in a long time, I can’t say much. Just LISTEN to this ovation for Mike Stryker!!
Stryker rolls into the ring and climbs the ropes, displaying his new prize to another ovation from the crowd. He goes to each corner and shows off his title to another reaction from the crowd. As he finishes, he gets down and grabs a mic from the apron, before standing center ring, belt slung over his shoulder. The crowd, however, is not interested in his speaking. They just want to chant.
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
Stryker gives the crowd time to settle down, but as he tries to raise the microphone to his mouth to begin, the chanting comes back.
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
Stryker again waits for the crowd to settle down before he tries to begin again. However, the same thing happens as he tries to begin speaking.
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
STRYKER!!
Stryker puts the mic down to his side. He looks down at the belt slung over his shoulder for a minute, as the moment overtakes him. He looks up at the crowd, his normally steely glare softened. He looks back at the belt once again, and as he looks back up, the chanting changes to cheers as the crowd gets what it wants. Mike Stryker stands in the middle of the ring, pinching the bridge of his nose just a little bit.
Whether it was the crowd, or the look of that belt, or the sudden realization of what all of this really means is irrelevant. The facts still remain the same. Mike Stryker stands in the middle of the ring with tears in his eyes as the crowd gives him an ovation. Not just for the moment, but for the years it took to make the moment happen. After a few more seconds of it, the ovation begins to quiet down and Stryker takes a deep breath to compose himself. He brings the mic to his mouth once more, and this time, the crowd lets him begin.
(Stryker) It’s funny…I’ve spent more than 5 years here in the NAFW, and from day one, my ultimate goal has been this, right here. It’s been to be able to stand here, in this ring, holding this Foundation Heavyweight Championship. I’d say it was a dream of mine, but that would be an understatement as to what it really was. I’ve been in a lot of companies in my career, and I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. This company, the NAFW, is the single best company I’ve ever been a part of. The fact that I can stand here saying that I’m the best in this company….I’ve never been more proud of anything in my career.
The crowd cheers the sentiment and breaks out an NAFW!! NAFW!! Chant.
(Stryker) Ever since winning this title, one of the things I’ve thought about was exactly what I would say at this moment, right now.
Before I won, I always assumed that I’d come out here and start firing off lines about how nobody believed I could do this, and how this is proof that all of them were wrong. I thought that I’d use this time to be a giant I told you so to all of my critics. After all, I’ve spent a lifetime building a career mainly based on that thought process. Nothing motivates me like someone telling me what I can’t do.
But on the way in here tonight, I noticed something. I walked through that door into the arena, and as I made my way from the parking lot through the tunnels towards the dressing area, I saw something. I saw a look in everyone else’s eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Everyone, from stagehands to truckers, from refs to suits, from the temp who sets up the ring all the way to Ray Buchanan, they all had a look in their eyes when they greeted me that I couldn’t explain until right now.
Something hit me tonight, something important. The fact that I’m the Foundation Heavyweight Champion today, it means something more. It means that I can’t just come out here and tell everyone I told you so. It means that I’m more than just one of the boys. Everyone who gave me that look tonight, they all were saying something to me with that look. They all had a look that said “Mike…you’re the man now…so be the man, for all of us”.
Everyone was asking me to lead them.
See, being the Champ is about more than the money, or the accolades, or being able to stand here and tell the world I’m the best. It makes me the standard-bearer for the NAFW today. I’m the #1 guy, and because of that, I will make each one of those boys in the back a promise, and I’ll make the same promise to everyone in this arena, and everyone watching at home.
It’s no secret that the NAFW hasn’t been at it’s best in recent weeks. It’s no secret that we’ve hit a real bad run of luck recently. A lot of people have been speculating about our future. Well, I’m going to tell all of them, and all of you, something very important. If I’m expected to lead, then damnit, I’ll lead. And there’s no way in HELL I’m going to let this place down. The NAFW is not going anywhere, not on MY WATCH!!!
The crowd pops huge for Stryker as he continues.
(Stryker) By the three things that made this place great, by the blood, the sweat, and the tears that make this place special, I swear before everything I hold sacred that the NAFW is coming back bigger, better, and stronger than ever before. As long as I’m champion, I’ll fight for it to my last breath. Anyone who wants a crack at this belt, they won’t have to look very far to get one. Anyone looking to take a crack at the best wrestler on this planet, step up. Be warned, though…if you come here looking to mess with the bull…
…be ready to get the horns!!
At that moment, "Lip Gloss and Black" by Atreyu hits the PA system as Tyrone Smith slowly makes his way from the backstage, his ribs taped up from the attack during the Chain Reaction match. Tyrone has a microphone in his hand, his long black hair swirling behind him. He has a small sneer on his face as he looks up at the ring, staring the Foundation Heavyweight Champion right in his eyes. Tyrone hears some of the crowd cheering and some of them booing as he looks around, holding the microphone to his face and starts to speak.
(Tyrone) So you finally did it Stryker. You finally stepped out of the midcard hell you were stuck in and finally got what you were after for 5 years. I commend you. Let me be the first person in this federation to congratulate you on your accomplishment.
Tyrone starts to pace on the entryway a little bit, like a hungry dog, as he has that gleam in his eye.
(Tyrone) This is coming from one of your biggest rivals ever in the NAFW. You and me, Stryker. We've been through a lot these past 5 years. Ladder matches, tag team elimination matches, you name it: We've done it. Me and you know each other like the back of our hands and that is never going to change. You beat me a couple of years back for the Intercontinental Championship and I beat you for the Atlantic Championship just a couple months ago. Me and you man, we always steal the show and I think we could do it again.
Tyrone stops his pacing and stares right at Mike Stryker as he just smiles a sly smile and nods his head.
(Tyrone) As you know, I got screwed at Chain Reaction. Before I even got to the ring, I got brutally attacked by the monster known as Hush and got powerbombed right through the announcers table. You know as well as everyone else that if I was healthy and I was able to get out to that ring at 100%, I would have had a very good chance of winning the match and the Foundation Heavyweight Championship would be around MY waist, not yours. Because let's face it, Stryker. I have beaten you quite a few more times than you have beaten me. And I could have done it again if I was not screwed.
Some of the cheers become a little louder as the fans start to slowly realize where this is going.
(Tyrone) Stryker, I know you are coming of a very emotional win. I know this is the best night of your career, but I know you more than anyone else here, that you are a fighting champion. You want to show everyone in the world that you are what you say you are and that is the best there is. The top of the company. Well, I have a proposition for you. If you want to prove yourself and put that theory to the test, why don't you put that title on the line? This time I won't get screwed. There will be no shenanigans and no interferences. It'll just be me and you in the squared circle fighting for the biggest prize in the business.
That's right Stryker, I'm throwing my name in the hat. I want a shot at your title. I want to show the world and show everyone that I belonged in that match and I can beat you Stryker. You know it and everyone in the locker room knows it. You may be Foundation Heavyweight Champion now, but I guarantee by the end of the night, you won't be. What do you say Stryker? One more time, for old times sake?
Tyrone puts the microphone down to his side and stares at the champion, his eyes twinkling like wildfire, waiting for a response.
Stryker looks up to the stage at his longtime rival with a bit of a glare in his eyes and a bit of that smirk on his face. That smirk he wears when he has bad intentions, when someone decides it's time to challenge him.
(Stryker) You know what Tyrone, a lot of what you're sayin' to me is fact. Fact remains that I've been in this ring more times against you than anyone else in that locker room. Fact is, it seems no matter what I do in my career, you're right there with me. You and I, we're intertwined for both of our NAFW careers. And yes, fact remains that you get shafted in Chain Reaction by being mauled by Hush. But I got news for ya...that's the breaks, kid. You were in the proverbial wrong place at the proverbial wrong time. We'll never know if you would have done better at Chain Reaction, and that's just a cryin' shame.
Now, there's one more fact that you threw out there. Your damn right that I'm going to be a fighting champion. I didn't climb this mountain to duck people. If someone is man enough to get the best of me and take this belt, they can have it. But like they say, that's a whole lot easier said than done.
Tyrone, I don't know if you noticed, but I already got someone trying to climb to the top of my mountain tonight, and his name is Spaz. Tonight it's Stryker vs. the Candyman for the biggest prize in our sport. However, after that, I got nothing but time to wait for the next guy. If you're saying, Tyrone, that you're gonna be the next guy....
....so be it. I'll put this belt up against you....just for old times sake.
Stryker throws down the mic and raises his belt high as the crowd explodes in cheers. The camera zooms in on Stryker, glaring a hole through Tyrone smith. The next shot is of Tyrone Smith, glaring right back.
(JB) Stryker vs. Smith?!? We've already got one title match for tonight, and it looks like another one is coming on the horizon!! Folks we have to take a break, but we'll be right back!!
(Tom) We’re only cutting to the back, Mann-Wagon, do you have to be so dramatic?
(JB) YES!
(Tom) Well, fair enough then.
Late, Like Usual. Drunk, Like Usual.
We cut to what is the Trust Fund Kid’s locker room. Keith Owens is sitting on a steel chair, carefully lacing up his boot. He finishes and turns to the cubby in the wall. Rifling through his gym bag, he pulls out his NAFW Tag Team Championship belt and straps it to his waist.
(JB) The Trust Fund Kids are supposed to be in action next, but I don’t see Owens’ partner.
(Tom) I’m sure Trevor Cunning is here JB. He probably spent the last few months doing nothing but training, and he’ll be in the best condition yet to face the Old School Empire.
(JB) As much as I’d like to see that, I don’t believe you one bit Bear. I’ve been at this arena all day and there’s been no sign of Cunning.
The Difference Maker cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, then heads toward the door to exit. On his way out he grabs a water bottle from the cooler. Above the cooler is a clock which catches Keith’s eye.
(Keith) Son of a bitch! He’s not here yet. I swear to God…
Keith’s voice trails off as he kicks his locker room door open and proceeds to step out into the hallway.
(???) Hey watch it there jackass!
Keith turns to look at who said that. As the locker room door slowly comes to a close, the man that almost was struck is Keith’s partner and one half of the NAFW Tag Team Champions: Trevor Cunning.
He’s some combination of drunk and hung over. It’s hard to tell when the drinking begins again before the hang over is even gone. He doesn’t have any of his ring gear on. Just his frat boy polo shirt and a pair of 7 Jeans, with the tag title belt hanging over his crotch. That makes you want to gag, doesn’t it?
(Trevor) Keithster! You nearly knocked my face in with that door, bro!
The Difference Maker mutters under his breath.
(Keith) I wish I had…
Trevor is too intoxicated to know.
(Trevor) I need this face. To talk! And drink! And… oh! Pleasure loose women!
(Keith) Listen, man. We’ve got a match against the Thomas Brothers and it’s right now.
(Trevor) Who cares?! It’s not like it’s for the titles. But we should have a title match… a ladder match… for the NAFW Drinking Championship!
(Keith) That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. Who in their right minds would put that on television.
Both Cunning and Owens drop character, look at the camera, and shake their heads.
(Trevor) Fine. We’ll go out and fight the stupid Thomas Brothers and then we’ll go pick up some bishhes to help you forget about Michelle.
(Keith) Melissa.
(Trevor) Whatever, man. It’s been too long and you need to get your…
Trevor starts making a humping motion with his crotch, and the tag title belt flops around like a… Well… You know…
(Keith) Christ…
Owens grabs Trevor by the shoulder and pushes him down the hallway. The camera follows them as Trevor nearly trips over his own feet at every step, before cutting back to ringside.
(JB) It looks like Trevor has been training real hard during the off season Bear.
(Tom) The Godfather never disappoints!
(JB) Ugh. Pretty soon someone is going to pass a law to make it illegal to drink and wrestle.
(Tom) Drinking and fighting is an American tradition, Mann-Wheel!
(JB) Really?
(Tom) Of course! Getting good and sloshed and popping someone right in the seersucker is as American as baseball, apple pie, and having carnal relations with a co-workers mother!
(JB) What are you implying Bear?
(Tom) I doinked your mother, Mann-Wagon. Get over it.
A siren hits the speakers and the word "EMPIRE" appears on the video screen.
The lights flash red and blue, as the camera pans around the arena. Lil' Wayne's "Fireman" starts playing. As the intro continues, the lights flash red to black to blue and back to black as a spot light is focused on the curtain. The song kicks in and Dustin Thomas blows through the entry way, his hand pointed towards the stage. New School points up, and Shane comes out of the curtain, all oiled up and ready to go.
Dustin taunts the fans as he walks down the aisle, while Shane takes every opportunity to get in his bodybuilder poses. When he reaches the bottom of the ramp, the Alpha flexes his biceps and points his toe, much to the hatred of the fans. Dustin slides into the ring, and leaps up to the turnbuckle to soak in the jeers. The Alpha hops up the steps, and climbs into the ring. He looks around the arena before stepping between the ropes. Dustin pats him on the back one more time before Shane makes his finale pose in the middle of the ring.
(JB) Now – as the Old School Empire did not take the losing fall at Chain Reaction, they’re being given another opportunity to fight for Tag Team Gold.
(Tom) Yeah, if they win this match. Which… newsflash… ain’t going to happen. The Thomases spend more time on their back than…
(JB) My mother?
(Tom) Her too. But I was going to say Elliot Spitzer.
(JB) But…
(Tom) From what I’ve read, he’s got a thing for ladies who prefer an equestrian method of hooking.
(JB) How long and hard do you think about how to get this stuff past the FCC, Bear?
(Tom) About as long and hard as I’ve been with your…
(JB) Enough!
With a whisper comes a bang - gold pyrotechnics shoot from above and below. Trevor Cunning stumbles through the curtain to the tune of Puff Daddy’s “All About the Benjamins.” He clutches a bottle of Jack in his right hand as his half of the Tag Team Championships dangles from the other. The collar on his polo is half popped, his hair disheveled.
Directly behind the former Foundation Heavyweight Champion is the Foundation’s only active Grand Slam Champion: The Difference Maker himself, Keith Owens. A stark contrast to Trevor – Keith has his title belt strapped around his waist and holds nothing but a bottle of spring water in his right hand.
The tag champs make their way towards the ring, neither speaking nor even looking at each other. The distance between them speaks volumes.
Keith slides into the ring and begins unbuckling his belt. Cunning takes a swig from the bottle and hops up on the apron. Before either man can complete his pre-match ritual, the Old School Empire attack.
The Old School Empire (Dustin and Shane Thomas) vs. The Trust Fund Kids (Keith Owens and Trevor Cunning) (TT)
Non-Title
Dustin charges at Cunning as he leans back to spray the crowd with whiskey – a high knee to the upper back knocks Trevor towards the announce team. Cunning lands on the table, his mouthful of whiskey spraying directly at JB.
(JB) Are you kidding me?
(Tom) Now that has to be the greatest thing I’ve ever seen! And I’ve seen your mother naked!
(JB) If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was on purpose!
(Tom) Who cares if it was? You aren’t going to do crap about it either way!
Meanwhile, back in the ring, The Alpha has hit Keith Owens from behind with a lariat before The Difference Maker could even take his belt off. Owens bounces chest first into the corner and stumbles backwards into the center of the ring where Shane is waiting with a backdrop suplex.
Once Keith is down, Dustin runs the ropes into his brother’s waiting arms. Shane uses Dustin’s momentum to press Dustin into the air.
What goes up, must come down. Dustin lands on Owens with a big splash for two. Now Shane hits the ropes as Dustin puts himself into position. Dustin hits his brother with a drop-toe hold, allowing Shane to fall forward with an elbow drop. The drop toe hold provides an even greater momentum than Shane would have had on his own.
Shane covers, but Walt Mason is too busy pushing Dustin out of the ring.
Shane gets up, dragging Owens towards the OSE corner. He yells an obscenity at Mason and then tags Dustin in.
(JB) I can’t believe how aggressive the Thomases are being tonight!
(Tom) Yeah, it’s as if they realize that this could be their last opportunity at the Tag Team Titles!
(JB) That sounds ominous.
(Tom) It’s called foreshadowing, Mann-Hole. It’s a little trick us broadcasters use to cast darkness on things that may becoming in fours.
(JB) There is so much wrong with that sentence that I don’t even know where to begin.
Shane hits a pendulum backbreaker and holds Owens across his knee. Dustin rolls in with a senton, Guerrero style, bringing Owens down in an awkward position. Again, he covers for two.
Finally, Trevor positions himself in the Trust Fund Kids’ corner.
(JB) Look who finally slept one off.
(Tom) Now that was uncalled for.
(JB) No, it wasn’t! The things you say about my mother are uncalled for… Cunning spitting whiskey in my face…
(Tom) An accident!
(JB) was uncalled for! EVERYTHING EXCEPT WHAT I SAY IS UNCALLED FOR!
(Tom) That little outburst there?
(JB) Let me guess?
(Tom and JB) Uncalled for.
Dustin slaps on a reverse chinlock – prompting the crowd to rally behind Keith. Owens gets back to his knees, elbows out, and kicks Dustin’s leg out from under him. One shining wizard later, and Dustin is on his back. Keith dives for the tag, but Walt Mason doesn’t see – he’s too busy dealing with the Alpha.
When Mason turns around to see Cunning knocking Dustin down with a lariat he sprints towards the Godfather and pushes him out of the ring. Shane spears Keith Owens back into a neutral corner, drags Dustin back towards the OSE half of the ring, and makes a loud clap behind Mason’s back.
With Owens stunned in the corner, Shane charges in. Keith puts a boot up. Before Shane can recover, Owens pops up on the second rope and leaps off – bulldogging The Alpha to the mat.
Both Dustin Thomas and The Godfather have their tag ropes in hand, ready for their partners. Owens crawls to the TFK’s corner, but Shane is by far the fresher man. He tags Dustin in – allowing the King of the New School to sprint towards the TFK corner and slap Trevor Cunning in the face.
Cunning enters the ring, tripping over the middle rope, again prompting Walt Mason to push him back into the corner. As the Godfather struggles to get past the referee without getting himself disqualified, Dustin takes the opportunity to choke Keith in the OSE corner. As soon as Cunning is safely restrained, again Dustin goes to taunt him. While Mason is distracted – Shane chokes Keith with the tag rope.
Dustin tags Shane.
The OSE bring Keith Owens back into the center of the ring and scream “Stock! Market! Crash!”
(Tom) Oh no they didn’t!
(JB) The OSE has had quite the showing thus far, but this is a little arrogant – even for them.
Dustin irish-whips Keith into the ropes and back-body drops him. While in the air, Keith regains his composure, and instead of landing in the Alpha’s waiting arms, dropkicks Shane Thomas out of his goddamn boots – the force of the blow takes him through the ropes to the floor.
Dustin, not realizing his brother has been knocked silly, is celebrating rather ostentatiously. This gives Keith the time to dive into the corner and tag in the Godfather.
(Tom) This time, he’s legal.
(JB) To enter the ring or to drive a car?
(Tom) Unless you consider opening a can of whup-ass operating heavy machinery – I think we’re going to be alright.
The crowd starts cheering – celebrating Owen’s success and safety rather than Cunning himself. Dustin, foolishly believing the cheers are for him backs up towards the center of the ring with his arms held high. He bumps into the Godfather.
Dustin reaches up behind himself without turning around, touching Cunning’s face and hair. He gulps, hard before being spun around forcefully.
Dustin throws the first punch, which is blocked. Cunning responds with a right. A second right knocks Dustin off kilter. A third bounces him off the ropes. Before the fourth, Cunning spits in his palm, then spits in Dustin’s face, then tags him with a hard slap to the jaw. Dustin tumbles back into the corner.
(JB) That’s disgusting.
(Tom) You should see what he does off camera.
The Alpha, meanwhile, has re-entered the ring, and charges towards Cunning from behind. The Godfather sidesteps, sending Shane shoulder first into Dustin’s midsection. He slams Shane into Dustin once more before dropping The Alpha on his head with a half nelson suplex.
The Difference Maker, now recovered, sprints to the opposite corner and kicks Dustin in the back of the head. The King of New School falls forward, face first, into his brother’s crotch.
Big pop for that one.
Cunning heads to the corner, tags in Keith, and waits for the Difference Maker to climb to the top rope. He then tosses Keith across the ring with a rocket launcher, the Difference Maker landing on top of the Alpha with a large splash.
It gets two.
(Tom) Now how’s that for teamwork, Mann-Wheel?
(JB) It’s impressive, sure – there’s a reason they’re the Tag Team Champs.
Cunning, still in the ring, motions for the Stock Market Crash. Keith hits Shane with a loud European uppercut, and then irish-whips the Alpha, but before he can back body drop the larger man, the now recovered Dustin charges in and clips Keith’s knee. The Alpha still trips over Keith, but as he falls ass over elbows, he kicks Trevor square in the jaw. Cunning flair-flops down, the glancing blow even more effective on Cunning in his inebriated state.
Trevor leaves the ring, obviously angry.
Dustin continues the assault on Owens within the ring, battering Keith with forearm shivers back into the ropes.
On the outside of the ring, Cunning pulls the Alpha under the bottom rope and tosses him into the ring steps.
Dustin irish-whips Keith across the ring, but Keith reverses, holding on to the King of New School’s wrist. One boot to the gut later, and Keith has Dustin in position for the Difference Maker.
Cunning smashes the Alpha’s face into the steel steps not once, not twice, but thrice.
(JB) Now that’s excessive!
(Tom) Hey – Shane kicked Cunning in the jaw – fair is fair.
Keith looks to the outside, and sees Cunning – bottle of Jack Daniels in hand – stalking after Shane, ready to smash it into Shane’s face. He drops Dustin, eschewing the Difference Maker, and slide sunder the bottom rope, rushing to stop Trevor.
(Tom) C’mon! I wanted to watch!
(JB) You are a disgusting human being.
(Tom) Again – with the mother and the nudity and the seeing of said nudity. That’s disgusting.
(JB) Yet you keep going back to her…
(Tom) Like I said, she’s disgusting.
(JB) Two different connotations. Funny.
(Tom) I like to think so.
Walt Mason begins counting. Around five – Dustin, now recovered, has hit the ropes and is looking to take advantage of the Trust Fund Kids’ distraction. He attempts a somersault tope – looking to take out both Cunning and Owens. He only hits Owens.
(JB) Did Cunning just pull Keith Owens in the way?
(Tom) No way, Mann-Wheel! The Godfather would take a bullet for his little buddy!
(JB) I don’t know, Bear – but it certainly looks like Cunning grabbed Owens’ tights!
(Tom) Even if he did, Mann-Wheel – he was just trying to push him out of the way! It’s not the Godfather’s fault that Dustin has horrible aim!
(JB) Oh come on!
(Tom) Plus, he’s drunk – he probably just fell over.
Cunning tosses Dustin back into the ring and climbs through the ropes. He scoops Dustin up into a fireman’s carry and tosses him over his shoulders, kicking him directly in the jaw.
(Tom) Drink To Forget!
Dustin bounces off the ropes – right back into Cunning’s arms. He lifts the younger Thomas brother a high into a Canadian Backbreaker position and flips him over into an Ace Crusher.
Unfortunately for Dustin, he just blew a .08.
The Sobriety Test leads to a three count – giving the Trust Fund Kids the W.
For once, Cunning allows Walt Mason to raise his hand – nay, he demands that Mason raise his hand. Owens rolls back in the ring, pulls Cunning’s hand down, and starts looking for answers.
(JB) I told you Cunning pulled Owens in the way!
(Tom) I told you, Dustin being a ‘tard plus Trevor’s unstable footing…
(JB) You mean he’s horribly drunk.
(Tom) Semantics. Equaled Keith being hit. He shouldn’t be angry.
(JB) He has every right to be angry, Bear!
And so he is. Owens turns to leave the ring. Before he can do so, Cunning grabs him by the arm. He takes the tag belts from Walt Mason and hands Keith his half. Owens takes the belt and looks at Cunning, who’s offering a handshake.
(JB) The fans don’t want Keith to shake Trevor’s hand!
(Tom) What the hell do the fans know? They’re idiots.
Owens bats the handshake away, before moving in for one manly hug.
(Tom) See that, Mann-Wagon! Brothers don’t shake hands! Brothers hug!
(JB) Go hug yourself! We’ll be right back, fans.
COMMERCIAL
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Sick of being double crossed by your elected officials?
Do you want to see pork barreling counted out?
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"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
A Presidential (Hopeful) in Our Midst
The camera cuts to the ringside announce table where JB and Tom sit looking pretty with their headsets on.
(JB) Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest here joining us here at Annihilation tonight.
(Tom) You better believe it Mannwagon. The big boss himself, NAFW owner Hector Gonzales is here tonight to watch our first show back since the holiday break and the writer’s strike ended.
(JB) That’s right Tom, but that’s not who I was referring to.
(Tom) You probably should have been referring to him, if you’d like to keep your job.
(JB) Bear, this is Mr. Gonzales’ company and he can drop in whenever he’d like. I was referring to the father of our very own Keith Owens, the good Senator from Illinois…
(Tom) Barack Obama? Obama is Keith’s father? That’s almost more shocking than Darth Vader being Luke Skywalker’s dad!
(JB) No Tom, it’s not Barack Obama. This man is an independent candidate for the 2008 United States Presidential Election - Stephen Owens!
The camera shot changes to that of an exclusive skybox where the Senator and Hector Gonzales are seated on a leather couch. TVs in the skybox have the broadcast of Annihilation on in the background. Two tumbler glasses are on a table, probably containing a fine Scotch. There are several documents spread out on the table, and close to Hector Gonzales is a checkbook that is partially opened.
(Tom) You think Hector is writing the Senator a check to become the Secretary of Pro Wrestling?
(JB) I highly doubt that, Tom.
(Tom) Do you think the Senator is up here on a campaign stop?
(JB) . . .
(Tom) JB?
(JB) Really Tom?
(Tom) YES!
(JB) We’re in Canada, Tom. Last time I checked, Québec wasn’t part of the United States of America.
(Tom) It could be!... Wait, I take that back. Québec is more trouble than its worth. We’ll take Ontario instead!
(JB) I don’t think “we’re” taking anything. Canada is Canada. Anyway folks, the Senator is here tonight visiting with the boss. I’m sure you’ll see it again all over CNN or TMZ tomorrow.
(Tom) Both deliver the news with the same amount of quality!
Cut back to the announcer's table. Tom is shuffling a few loose sheets of paper, having run the program down in his head during the break, while JB greets us with that soft country twang of his, directly addressing the camera. At this, Kalhoun snaps to.
(JB) Well, fans … before we get to the next match this evening, pitting the out of control Derek Clarke against the Mexican Toiletries in a Handicap Survival Match situation, we're going to take a look at how things got where they are – a little exposition, if you will!
(Tom) Since when did you start using words like "exposition," JB?
(JB) About the time Jerry started writing my dialogue!
(Tom) FOURTH WALL ATTACK!
(JB) Pwned!*
* Note: Cocaine, kids. It's a Hell of a drug!
Buchanan Puts His Foot Down
Pre-recorded: this happened days ago.
(Buchanan) I've been meaning to have a talk with you for quite some time, Derek.
(Clarke) Can't say the feeling's mutual, Commissioner.
Irritated, Ray Buchanan shifts in his seat. The leather chair makes an uncomfortable groan; it's new, hasn't been broke in yet. Clarke knows what's coming, has known ever since he got a text alert that the NAFW Commissioner wanted to meet him in his "office," a room full of traveling furniture the brass drags with them from place to place in order to build some semblance of professionalism from venue to venue.
(Buchanan) Listen, Derek, let's cut to the chase. Prior to Chain Reaction, you flipped your lid and assaulted two NAFW employees.
(Clarke) One was my manager and the other was my uncle, both of which – I found out – had been working together to get me booked on the undercard so I wouldn't quote/unquote go too far too fast.
The anti-climactic revelation of Derek's months-long storyline: the stuff you miss when there haven't been cameras around for awhile.
(Buchanan) That’s no excuse. They were trying to help you, Derek, make sure you didn't burn yourself out.
(Clarke) This isn't grade school, Commissioner. I knew what I was doing when I signed my contract, and I sure as Hell didn't come here to be babied.
(Buchanan) You're a fighter … I understand that. You think you’ve been wronged. I get it. But the fact of the matter is, you still assaulted two NAFW employees and walked out of not one but two officially sanctioned NAFW matches. Two! People are paying to see you perform – not to see you throw a temper tantrum. They pay for good money for good matches, with good athletes! You did not give my fans their money’s worth. What am I supposed to do about that, Derek?
(Clarke) Not my problem.
Snap.
(Buchanan) You better believe it's your problem, Clarke! Cougar might be willing to forgive you after what you've done, but I assure you … He's the only one running around here thinking you should still have a job. You're a spoiled brat, and I'll be damned if I let you do what you damn well please while you’re in my company!
(Clarke) With all due respect, Commissioner … You can go [censored] yourself. I'm not playing your game. Playing games is what got me called in here, and I'm done with it. Jerry and my uncle got what was coming to them, and if you think that I wouldn't do it all over again … think again. I'd be back at their throats in a heartbeat, and I'd pray every step of the way that your security guards were just a split second too late.
(Buchanan) Is that how it's going be?
(Clarke) That's how it is. You're not gonna turn me into one of your spineless lapdogs.
(Buchanan) You’re young Derek – you’ll understand in due time that Cougar, Jerry, and I – we’re only looking out for you… we only want what’s best for you. And I feel sorry for you that you can’t see that.
Buchanan pushes his fingers together in a way that could suggest Dr. Claw or Albert Schweitzer, depending on how one views the actor.
Guess how Derek sees things?
(Buchanan) Now are you going to start doing your job? Or do you think you can continue to get by doing as you damn well please?
(Clarke) Yeah, I do.
(Buchanan) Fine. Just fine by me. You've got yourself into this, Derek. I promised Cougar I wouldn’t fire you – you can thank him for that. But you still need to be punished.
You've got one month full of Living Hell ahead of you – and you can thank me for that. I'm going do everything in my power to help raise you right, and you're either going to come crawling back, looking to do things right – or run away with your tail in between your legs, wishing you'd have never walked into my office with that chip on your shoulder.
(Clarke) What do I get if I win?
(Buchanan) You're a real piece of work, Derek. But you know what…? Fine. Let's make this interesting. Every week, I'm going place you in a Handicap match against one of the NAFW's premier tag teams – for five minutes. All you have to do is survive for five minutes without getting pinned, counted out or being submitted. If you can win, more power to you … but if you don't, if you fail to survive … you have to do what you’re told. You listen to me, you listen to Cougar, and you listen to Jerry – if only for a month. You've got to do whatever I say, when I say it.
(Clarke) And if I survive…?
(Buchanan) Boy, I'll give you a Wish.
(Clarke) A Wish? Like, a full-fledged Three Wishes Wish?
(Buchanan) There will be some limitations – but close enough, yes.
(Clarke) Mister Buchanan … it's been a pleasure doing business.
Handshake.
But which is the one making the deal with the Devil…?
Derek Clarke vs. The Mexican Toiletries
5:00 Handicap Survival Match
Cut all the pleasantries, the entrances, etceteras. I know you don't care about them. To most of you, this is a prime candidate for Throwaway Match of the Year. You all know what's going to happen – it's the effin' Toiletries. All Derek's gotta do is survive five minutes with the Toiletries and he moves on to next week, to bigger and better challenges. You know he's not going down, the audience knows he's not going down … So let's get right to the meat and potatoes.
The Toiletries get right to work, but Clarke's got a fire under his ass the likes of which we've never seen. He's got something to prove – to Buchanan, to his uncle … to everyone. What should have been a tandem beat-down turned into a one man show, with the former Tag Team Champion beating the Toiletries from pillar to post. It's quite a push, the way he's manhandling the league's loveable losers, but not too much of a stretch considering the context. Derek's on his own now, ready to prove himself for the thousandth time – no Kabashi, No Jeremy Lewis, no Jerry, no Cougar booking him into soft matches against opponents that don't deserve to be in the same ring with him … Nothing. One man versus the world. To Hell with you and everybody else who gets in his way.
Four minutes into the match, the finish goes like this: Derek throws Senor Bag of Crap over the top rope in such a way that the luchadore is trapped in a hangman's noose – legs kicking violently, trying everything in his power not to be asphyxiated by the ring ropes. This leaves El Asso Wipo by himself, in the ring with a veritable Force of Nature… which is a really unenviable place to be. Clarke flings Wipo into a corner, the force of which literally shakes the ring, and then Derek hits his opponent – stumbling out of the corner – with a big Northern Lights Suplex for the one, the two and the three. It's over at 4:50. Pinfall victory.
(JB) I don't believe it! Derek Clarke's beaten two men!
(Tom) Don't get too excited, Mann-hole! It was only the Toiletries!
(JB) Only the Toiletries today, but … who's it going to be tomorrow?! This wager between the Commissioner and Derek Clarke is only just beginning to heat, and I feel sorry for whoever gets caught in the middle!
The referee lifts Derek's hand in victory as his music begins to play, and there's a retaliatory anger in the air. Clarke looks directly into a camera and challenges Buchanan, dares him to make a move. Throw your best at me, he says. You can't break me. I'll survive. And, when I do … That Wish is gonna feel mighty good. Cut.
Sore Losers
Backstage!
We come in on a frustrated pair. They've just suffered a loss at the hands of the Trust Fund Kids, and are currently representing the definition of "sore losers." Not surprising, given their usual attitude.
They are, of course, Shane and Dustin Thomas.
(Shane) Damn it!
Shane slaps the wall as he walks, then repeats himself.
(Shane) Damn it!!
Another wall slap. Silently fuming now, the Thomas Brothers pass a couple of nameless staffers... And by "pass" I mean "run into without really noticing them, knocking the poor saps to the ground before they even know what hit them."
Then they turn a corner and come upon someone that's not so easy to "pass." He's a six-foot-nine behemoth that goes by the name Ammo. Standing with him are his partner Slush and their manager, Twitch.
(Twitch) Ah, the NotPez Sisters!
As is often the case with Twitch, this comment lights a match under a potentially incendiary situation. There is absolutely no love lost between these four men.
(Shane) And look at you two, the not Goods enough!
(Dustin) I'd say they're not Goods at all!
(Shane) They sure weren't at Chain Reaction, were they Dust?
(Dustin) I don't see any belts on them, Shane.
That's about all Slush is going to take of that. He takes a step forward.
(Slush) And just where are your belts, boys? Too bad for you they didn't put the titles on the line tonight...
Ammo grunts. We'll let Slush translate this one.
(Slush) You're right Ammo! It wouldn't have mattered if the titles were on the line or not. And why is that, Twitch?
For an instant, Twitch seems surprised that Slush actually included him. But he jumps right in on cue nonetheless.
(Twitch) Because Shame and Rusty are a couple of losers with a capital L, O, S, E, R and S!
(Slush) Bingo!
Now Shane's the one who's had enough. He takes a step forward of his own, putting him within a foot of Slush.
(Shane) Is that right?
(Slush) Wouldn't have said it otherwise.
(Shane) How about you win your own match before shooting your mouth off about us?
Ammo grunts again. This one pretty much means three words: "Pot, kettle, black."
(Slush) We'd be happy to show you how it's done.
(Shane) We'll see about that.
(Slush) Damn right we will.
With that, Slush takes a minor risk, turning his back on Shane. But with Ammo standing right there, an attack would be far from the greatest plan Shane's ever had. So with that, this confrontation breaks up and we're done.
(JB) That could have come to blows.
(Tom) Should have! The nerve of that Slush!
(JB) He's got a point, Bear. Twice in a row the Old School Empire have been up against the Trust Fund Kids and lost.
(Tom) But Dustin's right, too! The Goods lost at Chain Reaction just as much as The Empire did.
(JB) True enough. In any case, I think Slush and Ammo have a little more motivation to win tonight!
COMMERCIAL
The following advertisement is paid for by the Stephen Owens Presidential Campaign:
Do you want to see violent criminal offenders body slammed by justice?
Do you want drug dealers to tap out to the law?
Do you want gang members to tag out of your neighborhoods?
Then its time to crown a new champion!
Vote for Stephen Owens to be your next President of the United States in 2008!
"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
In.
Our scene cuts from ringside to the backstage interview area. A couple of flashy suspended flat panel plasma televisions hang around flashing the "NAFW Annihilation" logo. The hanging red curtain accents the skimpy black dress Amie Carmichael is wearing. Amie looks stunning as always. The camera really loves that broad and I'm sure plenty of wrestling smarks want to love her too.
(Amie) At this time, I'd like to introduce my guest, "The Born Warrior" Ashley Collier.
Here is a swerve for everyone, Ashley Collier actually receives what could be construed as a face response from the crowd. Collier steps into the picture frame from stage left. He is already dressed to compete and already has his robe on and his fists taped up. He is ready for action. Collier smiles at Amie then throws her a wink.
(Ashley) Amie, it is always a pleasure.
Amie rolls her eyes. She is all too use to this act from Ashley. You think she would file a sexual harassment lawsuit on him by now, but by that little twinkle in her eye, I can tell she likes it. If the camera wasn't rolling right now she would probably be out of that dress and banging Ashley butt naked on the floor... or not, women are hard to read.
(Amie) Ashley, what are your thoughts on the gauntlet match you've been thrown into tonight?
Ashley sneers at Amie's question.
(Ashley) Amie, it is like this. Ray Buchanan sees fit to throw me in a Gauntlet after I beat a couple of his security guards up. We all know Ray doesn't have the backbone to see something threw himself, so he sends Ammo, Slush, and Zangief to do his dirty work for him. He might as well as just thrown me in the ring with three random fans.
(Amie) Do you think Ray Buchanan has a grudge against you?
Collier chuckles at Amie like she just asked him what color the sky is.
(Ashley) Isn't the answer to that question obvious? First, he suspends me for something that there is no concrete evidence of me doing. Second, he avoided me like a child an when it came to the issue of my contract. Third, he throws me into a (beep) gauntlet match. I think the jury is out on whether Ray Buchanan has a grudge against me. Hell, he has full blown vendetta.
(Amie) Hmm, interesting. So Ashley, what is your strategy for tonight?
(Ashley) My strategy is simple, Amie. I'm just going to do what I always do. And in the end all three of them bitches will be...
KNOCKED THE (beep) OUT
Later Gator.
Nicole Devereaux (with Harris & Clark) vs. GNR (with Rock 'n' Rex Express)
STOMP STOMP CLAP!!
STOMP STOMP CLAP!!!
Uh oh… Everyone knows what that beat means… It’s the entrance of the one and the only Scott Rocker.
(JB) Ladies and gentlemen, this is supposed to be a match between Nicole Devereaux, manager of Harris and Clark, against our former ring announcer Gillia…
(Tom) Whoa whoa whoa. Hold it right there. Her name is G – N – R! Get it right Mannhole!
(JB) Yes… GNR... Because for whatever reason, being the groupie of Rex Michaels and Scott Rocker is so much better than being our ring announcer.
(Tom) I think Troy Gilmore would agree to that!
The shredding guitar of Queen’s “We Will Rock You” kicks in and the house lights fade momentarily. A fog machine pumps out… well… fog… and a spotlight shines down into it. In the middle a silhouette can be made it out. It’s the NAFW’s very own rock superstar Scott Rocker pumping his fist in the air to the beat of the drums.
He coolly strolls forward with his American flag bandanna on his head, sporting his leather jacket with a Bald Eagle on the back, and tight black leather jeans decked out in diamonds. Over his shoulder is a vintage '64 Fender Stratocaster in classic white with single triple coil pickups and a whammy bar. Name that movie reference!
(JB) Well, it doesn’t look like GNR is with Scott Rocker, so I’m not sure what this is all about.
The God of Rock pulls a microphone out of his pocket before the legendary vocals of Freddy Mercury can kick in.
(Rocker) Cut my music!
Rocker strolls down the ramp as his entrance music is abruptly cut short.
(Rocker) Montreal… I have one question for you… Are. You. Ready. To. Rock?!
Most of the crowd pops, but it’s not to Rocker’s satisfaction.
(Rocker) I thought Montreal was the rockin’est town I’ve ever played in... Now… MONTREAL! I saaiiiiddd… ARE. YOU. READY. TO. ROCK?!?!?!?!
This time the crowd pops much louder at the request of the man born from the Gods of Rock.
(Rocker) Well unfortunately, I have some bad news for you all. There appear to have been some flight problems for the rest of my crew, and I can only assume the same for that poser Troy Clark and his people. Tonight, you all will not have the honor of seeing my leading lady GNR wipe the stage with Nicole Delawhatever.
By this time, Rocker is in the ring, staring out over the crowd in one of the corners from the second rope.
(Rocker) BUT… I will make it up to you. Tonight, Montreal will get to see a real guitar hero kick out the jams….. ME!
Rocker jumps down from the corner and gets into a power stance in the middle of the ring. He holds his strumming hand high in the air, raising his goblet of rock for the Gods to fill with sweet sweet riffs. But before he can begin, he’s cut off.
It’s the song Ice Ice Baby, but not quite as you may know it. Its Vanilla Ice’s hard rock remix called Too Cold, and its blasting over the PA.
Scott Rocker does not look happy.
(JB) What in the hell is going on now?
(Tom) LOOK! It can’t be… it couldn’t be…
(JB) By gawd it’s X-Cold!
Sure enough X-Cold has come out onto the ramp with his signature pizza cutter in one hand a microphone in the other. His music dies out as he raises the mic to his lips.
(X-Cold) scot RaWker, u got soem nerv cummin’ out her. My boi Zangy is gonna whoop on Trashley Collar l8er, but 2nite is my n1ght……… & u gonna............................. PAY BY DA SLICE!
(JB) Oh boy…
(Tom) HERE WE GO!
Scott Rocker vs. X-Cold
The legendary X-Cold throws down his microphone and rushes the ring waving his pizza cutter like a mad man. A referee scrambles out from the back to officiate what appears to be a contest in the place of the women’s match.
X-Cold slides under the bottom rope and immediately goes after Scott Rocker with jabs from the pizza cutter. Scott Rocker, using his cat like reflexes, dodges them all Matrix style like he’s not even from this planet. X-Cold rushes him one more time and Rocker shoves him into the corner where the pizza cutter goes flying to the outside of the ring.
Rocker slams X-Cold’s head into the turnbuckle ten times before throwing him out into the middle of the ring. The grizzly veteran X-Cold immediately pops to his feet, only to be met with a…
ELECTRIC GUITAR SHOT TO THE SKULL!
(Tom) HOLY SHNIKES!
(JB) It looks like X-Cold just got re-tuned!
X-Cold collapses in the middle of the ring like a sack of bricks, and Rocker steps on him with one foot on the chest, flexing for the ladies in the crowd.
The referee slides down and makes the count.
And it’s a three count, by the way.
Cue We Are The Champions by Queen, Scott Rocker's amazing victory music!
(JB) And Scott Rocker picks up an unexpected victory here tonight.
(Tom) That’s what he should have done to that un-American sack of crap VYC all those months ago!
(JB) Whatever you say, Tom. I think X-Cold is going to need some medical attention in the ring after that guitar shot.
(Tom) Let’s take another look!
The instant replay shows the ELECTRIC GUITAR SHOT TO THE SKULL! from several different angles, followed by the cocky pin fall.
(JB) Welp, I can’t say I expected to see that tonight.
The Disturbance Continues
We fade in to a hallway in the Bell Center – specifically one upstairs where the entrance to the skyboxes are. Two men in black suits with earpieces stand guarding the door to this particular skybox.
Keith Owens approaches the men. He’s changed out of his wrestling gear and has a button down grey dress shirt on with a pair of jeans. He says nothing to either of them, but one of the men nods at him and enters the room. When he comes back out, he’s got Keith’s father, the Senator, with him.
Now the four of them stand there, and no words are being exchanged. The Senator turns to the two body guards.
(Senator) That’ll be all for right now.
The two men nod and enter the skybox suite, shutting the door behind them.
(Senator) What’s going on Keith?
The Difference Maker reaches into his pocket and pulls out a letter that’s been folded up.
(Keith) It’s another letter, and I’m getting sick of them. It’s been like this for the past four months non-stop.
Keith slaps it up against his father’s chest, wrinkling his red power tie. The Senator opens it up and scans it quickly before folding the letter again and tucking it into a pocket on the inside of his jacket.
(Senator) I told you I’m having my people look into it.
(Keith) Well you know what? It’s a new threat every week. I’m sick of battling these demons. Someone knows way too much father, and they’re targeting me to get to you.
(Senator) And like I’ve said time and time again, you don’t have anything to worry about. Whoever is doing this will pay for it. My men will take care of it.
(Keith) Just like they took care of it last time?
(Senator) Enough!
Keith looks visibly frustrated. He closes his eyes, then inhales and exhales deeply.
(Keith) This isn’t worth it, and there’s only so much more of this I can take.
(Senator) You know what Keith, you better suck it up and deal with it if you want me to keep shelling out money to you and your friend Trevor. Now I’ve got to get back to business with Hector.
And without a good bye, the Senator turns around and enters into the skybox once more. The body guards immediately exit the room and resume their posts next to the door. Keith simply shakes his had at them and walks away.
(JB) What was that all about?
(Tom) Whatever it is has Keith scared like a little baby.
(JB) You think getting threats in the mail is funny, just because your father is running for President of the United States?
(Tom) Maybe Keith should man up and drop a flying elbow on those punks! Oohhh yeahhhhh!
(JB) Alright, Macho Man.
Demanding, Aren’t We?
The ever-moving office belonging to Ray Buchanan can be an unnaturally peaceful place at times.
It just so happens that these peaceful times occur in between the explosive interventions into the commissioner's business. Like the one occurring currently, with the front door to said office being forcefully kicked open.
BUCHANAN!
The bellowing roar is followed by the hasty entrance of one Aleister Essex. Dressed in his burgundy suit, Essex has forgone the pleasantries and opted out of sporting the rest of his accessories, such as his fedora, exposing his matted blond hair to the viewing audience.
It takes Essex no fewer than 3 giant paces before he finds himself face-to-face with the
pull, keeping certain things in line in order to maintain what you see fit. Letting people do as they please just as long as they fit your mold.
(Buchanan) What in the world are you blathering about, Essex?
(Essex) Mike Stryker. The Foundation Heavyweight Championship. My monster's championship. MY championship.
And Sean Thomas.
Cue the attending crowd cheering at the sound of both the Big City Hit Man and Spaz being name dropped.
(Buchanan) Yes, I booked Sean Thomas to face Mike Stryker in his first title defense tonight-...
(Essex) I know this; you blind nimrod. I wasn't finished just yet.
Already tepid and tired, Ray Buchanan sighs and turns his attention back to Essex.
(Buchanan) Then make your point.
Essex grins villainously.
(Essex) My point is that my monster, Hush, should be the Foundation Heavyweight Champion, and that only on a slight, minor technicality, he was unfairly disqualified-...
(Buchanan) Mr. Essex, you hit Lane in the back with a chair!
(Essex) SILENCE. I AM NOT FINISHED YET.
An intense silence follows as the two men stare at one another uneasily.
(Essex) But regardless of the injustice that has been brought against my monster, you, Raymond Buchanan, you have the power to change everything and make things right. You know as well as I do that the first individual that deserves a crack at Mike Stryker's belt is the man who brutalized him over the Atlantic Championship, and the only man he has never submitted.
Hush.
Not Sean Thomas. Not Leonard Aarons. And certainly not Tyrone Smith.
Hush.
A chuckle emerges, but unlike many a scene in the past, it is not Aleister Essex emitted the laughter. It is Ray Buchanan.
(Buchanan) Essex, you really will say anything in order to make yourself look good, won't you? Even if it's grade A bullplop.
(Essex) It is not "bullplop", Buchanan, this is evidence that it is YOU who have a vendetta against me and my monster!
(Buchanan) Is that right? Well, it's not as if you and your monster sent half of my security team to the hospital or anything... Twice.
But, seeing as Tyrone Smith has tossed his hat in the ring to challenge for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, why don't you go get your monster ready for his match against Smith, and who knows... Maybe I'll look over my "obvious" vendetta against you...
Essex turns about and heads towards the door to exit, but not before saying the last word.
(Essex) Set anybody in Hush's way and he will crush him, Buchanan. Smith's already faced my monster's wrath on numerous occasions. This time will be no different.
But let me make myself perfectly clear when I say that I will crush ANY opposition that stands in my way of possessing that belt, by any means necessary.
You will rue the day you crossed me, Buchanan.
With an unceremonious slam, Essex departs, leaving a relieved Ray Buchanan to plop back down into his office chair, and resume his work.
(Buchanan) I need to remember to ask for an office with a lock next week.
Complications
The scene opens up on a rather pissed off Carlos. As the camera pans back, we find Psycho not in his usual corner, but instead bashing his head into the lockers.
(Carlos) Well Gilmour, you did it. You beat my idiot. Don't think I'm done with you yet though. I have another chance. I realize that it's a tag match and I have to work with Snake to do it, but none the less: I have you. I can turn that smile around for you.
Carlos stands up and paces back and forth in front of the bench as he continues.
(Carlos) So, Snake...I can deal with you being around. You do after all hate my brother as much as I do. Don't however think that this is like a match with Wilson because you can't throw him around and hope to hit something. The something you hit will be you.
Psycho turns and sits on the bench now bleeding.
(Carlos) Andy, Andy, Andy...Where should I begin? You are certainly one of the more entertaining people to have been around my idiot brother. You don't really care to get worked up, and that's a good thing. Still, you stand in the way and therefore must be taken care of. I didn't necessarily see you coming into the picture for a long time; however, I also didn't think there would be any tag matches on the way to my glory. You can stay out of the way or you can get beaten like Gilmour will. It is all up to you...
Static and fade.
COMMERCIAL
The following advertisement is paid for by the Stephen Owens Presidential Campaign:
Are you ready to dropkick big business?
Do you feel like superkicking government interference?
Have you ever dreamed of flying high and elbow dropping restrictions on your liberties?
Then its time to crown a new champion!
Vote for Stephen Owens to be your next President of the United States in 2008!
"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
Movin' On
(JB) Let's head backstage, where John Mills has tonight's Foundation Heavyweight Championship challenger, Spaz!
Per JB's request, we cut backstage, and as promised, John Mills is standing with Spaz. The Candy Man is looking a little bit different than last we saw him... Slightly longer hair, parted down the middle. He also sports a trimmed Van Dyke beard. And, of course, the trademark Ruby Oakleys. All in all, it's more of a "retro" Spaz look. To complete the package, he's wearing a really old "SpaZ" (yes, with a capital "Z") t-shirt, a throwback from his pre-NAFW days.
(John) Thank you JB.
Mills, who had been looking at the camera up until now, turns to Spaz.
(John) Spaz, congratulations on your solid run in Chain Reaction!
Spaz smiles slightly, but it's not the big beaming smile he's known for. This is a more subdued one, and he's about to explain why, as he takes off his Oakleys.
(Spaz) Thanks John... But it wasn't as solid as I'd hoped.
John nods.
(John) Still, having been in the match from the beginning, making it to the final four is quite an accomplishment. And being eliminated by the then-reigning Champion is nothing to be disappointed about.
(For those who have forgotten: Spaz was eliminated from Chain Reaction by the now-former Champ, Leonard Aarons.)
Spaz shakes his head. He's still displaying that little smile, though. It's more of an aura of neutral contentment, really.
(Spaz) Unfortunately, that's where you're wrong, John. Being eliminated is a disappointment, period. Doesn't matter if it was Aarons, or anyone else...
John interrupts.
(John) Even Mike Stryker, who went on to win the match?
Spaz nods.
(Spaz) Anyone. Reigning Champion, new Champion, former Champion, it doesn't matter. I went in there to win. I didn't, and that's a disappointment. I'm not going to settle for excuses. Of course, I'd be happy to have a shot at any of those guys - especially Aarons - when we're both fresh, but that's beside the point. The bottom line is, the match is done, and even though I'm disappointed in the final result, some good did come from it.
(John) Your elimination of Mike Lane, for example.
There's that big smile we've been waiting for.
(Spaz) That's definitely part of it. I got my time in the ring with Lane and in the end, I got the best of him. Even if I didn't accomplish my main goal of winning the match, it wasn't a total loss: Mike Lane and I are done.
John looks slightly confused by this statement.
(John) If that's the case, why did you chase him out of the arena?
The big smile fades, back to the neutral contentment.
(Spaz) Chalk that up to adrenaline. The heat of the moment. I've had some time to think about it. One way or another, I've been tied to Mike Lane for a long time, either as a partner or an opponent. I've come to the conclusion that it's time to move on to bigger and better things. Which, of course, brings me to the other good thing that came out of Chain Reaction.
John once again anticipates what Spaz is referring to.
(John) Your Title shot tonight.
Once again, the big smile is back.
(Spaz) Exactly. It seems I impressed Buchanan enough at Chain Reaction to become the first challenger to Mike Stryker's Championship reign.
Pause. The smile turns to a more serious look now. Spaz's typical transition from joviality to "all-business."
(Spaz) And I plan to be his only challenger.
(John) So you're confident going into tonight's main event?
Thank you, Captain Obvious. Usually Mills is better than this.
(Spaz) Absolutely. I didn't win at Chain Reaction, but I intend to make up for that tonight.
(John) Anything you'd like to say to Mike Stryker before I let you go?
Mills hands Spaz the microphone now, and steps out of the frame as the shot zooms in on Spaz.
(Spaz) First: Congratulations. You told me you'd win, and you did. It was a long time coming.
Pause. (Another Chain Reaction refresher: In an encounter between Spaz and Stryker before Chain Reaction, Spaz said "may the best man win," to which Stryker replied "I will.")
(Spaz) Second: Thank you. You let me finish Lane, without getting involved. I wasn't sure you were going to stay out of it in the end, but you did.
Pause. (Final CR reminder: If Stryker really wanted to, he probably could have made it into the ring fast enough to break Spaz's pin on Mike Lane.)
(Spaz) Third, and finally: Get Ready. You didn't feel it at Chain Reaction, so tonight... You're going to get your Sugar Rush!
With that, the shot zooms back out, as Spaz hands the microphone back to Mills.
(John) Thank you for you time, Spaz. And good luck tonight.
Spaz nods.
(Spaz) Thanks John.
With the interview and pleasantries complete, Spaz replaces the Oakleys on his face and heads off, leaving Mills to address the camera again.
(John) Back to you JB and Tom.
And we cut back to ringside.
(Tom) I don't like the beard.
(JB) All that, and you're talking about a beard?
(Tom) What? He didn't say anything special.
(JB) Are you kidding me? With Mike Lane out of the picture, Spaz is focused entirely on regaining the Foundation Heavyweight Championship! And let me tell you, when he's on his game like he appears to be now, Spaz is a force to be reckoned with!
(Tom) Talk to me again after he loses to Stryker.
Hush vs. Tyrone Smith
(JB) This match is a sort of a rematch from the Chain Reaction match we had recently. This match will guarantee to be physical between two of our rising main eventers.
(Tom) The last time we saw Tyrone Smith, he got mauled by the monster Hush, and yet he still managed to get into that ring and make some waves in the Chain Reaction match before being eliminated.
(JB) Tyrone Smith finally has a chance to get his hands on Hush, but it will not be an easy feat. Hush is over a half of foot taller and almost 200 pounds heavier than Smith.
(Tom) Plus, do you think that Tyrone's mind is going to be all the way there when he challenged Mike Stryker to a match for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, which he accepted?
(JB) It may even be a cause for him to step up his game. But remember also, Essex was trying to throw Hush's name in the mix as well for a potential title shot. The winner of this match could very well be next in line for the title.
The lights flicker and fade out as "Lip Gloss and Black" by Atreyu hits the PA. Smoke fills the entryway as a figure appears in the smoke. The figure appears through the smoke as a mixture of cheers and boos fill the arena. Tyrone Smith appears and pumps his fist in the air, looking at the crowd. As he starts to walk down the entryway, he stops in the middle of the ramp and takes another look at the fans before starting to walk down the ramp again. Before he gets to the ring though, the fans start to boo loudly as Hush appears from the backstage, rushing down the ramp and starts to attack Tyrone from behind.
Tyrone falls on the floor as he quickly turns around and gets decked by Hush. Tyrone staggers back and his back hits the apron as he slowly gets to his wobbly feet and throws a couple of punches at Hush. Hush grabs Tyrone's arm and Irish Whips Tyrone, Tyrone hitting the stairs hard. Tyrone flies head over heels over the stairs and clutches his knee. Hush walks over and picks up Tyrone and rams his back into the steel turnbuckle. Tyrone cries out in pain as Hush rams his back a couple more times, letting Tyrone's prone body hit the ground. Hush walks and starts to rummage under the ring, taking out a steel chair. Tyrone slowly gets back to his feet, clutching his back as Hush swings with all his might, connecting the steel chair on Tyrone's head. Tyrone falls face first to the floor as you can see the blood pouring down his face. Hush takes the chair and starts to attack the back over and over again. Tyrone cries out until all is silent. As Hush picks up Tyrone, security comes and starts to pull Hush back. Hush starts to break through the security and decks Tyrone again in the face. Tyrone falls flat on his face as more security comes and starts to hold the big monster back. Hush slaps all of the security off of him and starts to walk to the backstage, the chorus of boos deafening. Hush walks up the ramp and turns around, looking at the broken body of Tyrone Smith, as medical staff rushes past Hush and starts to tend on Tyrone as Hush turns around and walks up the ramp and eventually disappears in the backstage.
(Tom) What an awesome match!
(JB) What match? Hush just destroyed Tyrone Smith again before he could even get to the ring!
(Tom) Exactly! The Artist Formerly Known As Crazy Boy has no business in the ring with the monster Hush.
(JB) Tyrone does not look like he's in good shape. If we recieve any updates on him, we'll pass them along.
(Tom) And when Buchanan surrenders the Foundation Heavyweight Championship to Hush, let me know about that too, will ya JB?
Sayonara Reaper?
(JB) Hang on Tom, I'm getting word from the back that we've got some type of...
We cut to the production truck where an unknown woman is handing a tape to one of the producers. The producer's refusing to play the tape until he gets a look at the person behind the woman. As the camera pans back, we can see that it is indeed Heatwave and this illicits a series of boos.
(Heatwave) I want that thing played or the next thing you're going to see is your head bouncing off of that control panel. Now play the (bleep)ing tape, bitch!
Fearing bodily harm to his well-being, he decides to pop the tape in as Heatwave escorts the woman out of the truck.
(JB) What the hell is that all about?
(Tom) Incompetent personnel not knowing how to follow directions is what that's all about. I'm telling you, this is pitiful that a man of Heatwave's stature should have to put up with such...
Of course, Tom's interrupted by a countdown on the NAFWtron as it gives way to some footage in the Tokyo Dome. The date on the lower right corner indicates that this is January 3rd, only two days into the New Year. The black man in the gold and black fatigues is clearly The Reaper. The rather shorter (give or take two inches) and stockier individual is MJPW's Heavyweight Champion, Tojo Kanahashi. The match is well on its way to the 56 minute mark when a black blur enters the frame with a chair in hand. As Aarons has Kanahashi up for The Reaper's Wrath, he turns and is hit full blast with a steel chair causing Kanahashi to drop to the mat. The man proceeds to clear the ring of Kanahashi and the referee, as the fans boo the continued assault with the steel chair.
He stops to set the chair down, folding it out in the middle of the ring as he strikes The Reaper's trademark pose and stuffs him between his legs hooking both arms. He hoists The Reaper up and drops him onto the chair snapping it in half. As The Reaper's body violently twitches, the hooded figure gets up and flips his hood to the back revealing himself to be...
(JB) Heatwave?! DAMNIT!!! He just took The Reaper out with that Black Furnace Driver!
(Tom) He told him this wouldn't end until he was finished once and for all. Sins of the father my man.
(JB) Was it not enough that he broke Lorenzo's ankle, broke Charlene's neck and threw a fireball into the face of Vanessa Chamberlain at Chain Reaction? Did he really have to go this far?
(Tom) No, but I don't think that's really going to stop him either.
Heatwave soaks in the boos from the crowd, as he drops down to the mat, screaming at Aarons. He walks over to the corner, grabbing the Lendo Stick as he casually walks over and proceeds to drill it into his head again and again until he draws blood. Not happy with the blood he has drawn, he proceeds to rake it across his face again and again, screaming almost savagely throughout the process. The fans watching this in the Centre Bell are speechless. They want to boo this, but are too horrified to do so. Heatwave places the Lendo Stick down on the mat, dragging Aarons to his feet again and stuffing him between his legs. Striking that infamous pose one more time, he hoists Aarons up after hooking both arms and drives him down onto the barb wire portion of the stick with a Black Furnace Driver.
(JB) Someone turn this thing off already, that's enough!
(Tom) From the looks of it, not quiet yet.
Heatwave continues to assault Aarons verbally, heading outside and taking apart the ring steps as he tosses them into the ring. He slides in the bottom half as he slides back in, tearing off his hoodie and thumping his chest as he once again strikes the Reaper's signature pose before signaling that it's over. He sets Leonard's head on the steps, placing it directly on top of the barb wire portion of the Lendo Stick as he grabs the other set of steps he tossed in. Security's out, but they're not in any rush to run in now that he has a set of steps as a weapon. Heatwave pauses briefly as he stands above Aarons and drives the steps down on top of his head not once, not twice, but three times before throwing the steps away.
There's a bloody pool forming underneath Leonard's head at this point as Heatwave simply smiles as he walks away. He slides out of the ring heading towards the person holding the camera as he utters the words...
(Heatwave) Finally...he felt MY Wrath. Turn the camera off.
And with those words, the feed's mercifully cut. The fans in Montreal are completely stunned. Even the announcers aren't quite sure what to say in light of what they've just witnessed. The cameras cut to the back where Heatwave's got his arms wrapped around the woman who gave the producer the tape to begin with. He's all smiles as he leans in to kiss her forehead as they walk away from the monitor they viewed the tape on. As they head off, it's John Mills who gets the short straw having to approach Heatwave moments after the world witnessed this horrific incident.
(John) Heatwave...what did...what co...
(Heatwave) Look here Johnny Boy. My wife and I have some things to do, but since you and the rest of these inbred Canucks want answers, I'll give them to you next week. Along with a most interesting challenge in case anyone wants to step up and act like they have a pair. Now move.
He shoves his way past John as we cut back to the announce position after Heatwave and his wife leave the building.
(JB) Looks like he's going to explain himself next week and throw out what sounds like a challenge of sorts.
(Tom) Wow. Heatwave's my new role model.
(JB) I can't believe you can condone his actions. What he did was reprehensible and absolutely disgusting.
(Tom) On top of having to lose to Stryker, now he gets taken out by Heatwave. Guess The Reaper's second disappearing act from this place is legitimate this time.
(JB) Sad.
Unorthodox Warm-up
Cut backstage. We're inside a locker room now, and our screen is populated by three men we saw not long ago: Slush, Ammo and Twitch.
In the background, video of Ashley Collier's assaults on security at Chain Reaction are playing on a monitor. After their somewhat amused attitude in confrontation with The Thomas Brothers earlier, The Goods have become all business now. Or at least, as "business" as they can get given their unorthodox warm-up strategies...
Slush is pounding on a six foot tall bobo doll, which is braced to bounce back faster. Meanwhile Ammo is doing some curls... But he's not curling weights.
He's using Twitch.
(Twitch) Twitch doesn't like this!
(Slush) Quiet Twitch. We're trying to watch.
(Twitch) Jumbo can watch tapes of Girl's Name without throwing Twitch around!
First show back and we've got another new Twitch-name™. In response, Ammo grunts. This one loosely translates as "I haven't thrown you... Yet."
(Slush) We're multitasking, Twitch. Warming up and checking out our opponent all at the same time!
(Twitch) Twitch doesn't care about multitasking! Put Twitch down!!
Ammo simply shakes his head and keeps on curling. Slush, on the other hand stops pounding on the bobo doll for a moment and steps to the side. He picks up a towel. But not just any towel: This is Blake Bouchard.
(Twitch) What's Flush doing with Blake?
Slush steps over toward Ammo, while folding Blake along its (his?) width. Slush glances at Ammo, prompting the big man to stop the curls for the moment. He still holds Twitch around waist level. Slush steps forward and reaches out with Blake in hand.
(Slush) Increasing our concentration.
Before Twitch can get so much as a word out, Slush wraps the towel around Twitch's head, most notably covering the manager's mouth. Twitch is left sufficiently muted, his protests now reduced to frustrated grunts and groans. With a nod from Slush, Ammo resumes his warm-up and Slush returns to his bobo doll.
(Slush) Much better!
Ammo nods, and Twitch becomes resigned to his fate, no longer even bothering to make a sound. As The Goods study Ashley Collier and prep for their match, we're done here.
(Tom) About time somebody did that to Twitch!
(JB) I can't argue with that. And later on we'll see how Slush and Ammo fare in Ashley Collier's Gauntlet!
COMMERCIAL
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"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
Is It Live Or Is It Memorex?
It's a darkened scene. Enough light to let you know where we are but no enough to keep you from guessing what might be lurking in the shadows. A few seconds later and a logo hung on a wall lets us know that this particular scene was shot in the NAFW backstage interview area.
(???) The screams never stop for me. I'll never stop hearing her voice.
The silver and black bodysuit lets you know the man's identity.
There's a muted undertone of melancholy in the ramblings despite the electronic distortion used by the masked man.
(Sorrow) I hope I never stop hearing it.
There's an awkward pause in the dialogue as Sorrow turns his head, shaking it slightly in despair.
(Sorrow) But, now the voice of another has my attention.
A sudden sparkle as his gloved fist produces a small metallic tape recorder with a yellow post-it note on it. Written on the note is one word; "Sorrow".
(Sorrow) This one.
His wrist tenses sharply as his thumb pushes the Play button and a voice spills out of the speaker grill.
(???) Hello Mr. Sorrow. It is unfortunate to inform you that this will be the beginning of the end of your hopes and dreams. You are the first to suffer.
Pause. Heavy breathing.
(???) Mr. Sorrow, they shall be silenced!
The tape slowly trails off into hard and heavy static and then stops.
(Sorrow) The torment comes from all sides now.
His left hand opens and the tape recorder plummets to the floor, landing with an audible clunk. His right hand clutches at the side of his head as he cranes his neck upward, tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling.
(Sorrow) It's all so very real.
The right hand drops and the left hand points an accusative finger into the camera.
(Sorrow) You do not know what suffering is.
He turns to stalk off into the darkness which spewed him forth.
(Sorrow) But, you will.
Fade to black.
(Sorrow) I'm sorry.
Out.
(JB) Welcome back to Annihilation.
(Tom) Whats this all about?
(JB) You mean that creepy video?
(Tom) No, Ashley Collier, back from a suspension, after he gave Sebastian Hawke a little slur and a boo boo, now being forced to run a gauntlet.
(JB) Bear... Stop before you hurt yourself thinking again. In the words of Ron White, if you have a thought, let it go.
(Tom) Never stopped you before, Mann-wheel.
(JB) So tell me, Bear – if Collier didn’t get a ring entrance, does that mean he’s going to lose tonight?
(Tom) No – it just means that the peon’s sitting at home don’t deserve to see the entourage hit the ring in style.
(JB) He’s going to lose, isn’t he?
(Tom) Gord, I hope not. I have money resting on this.
Ashley Collier stands in the ring, rubbing taped fists together, working his knuckles and loosening his wrists while waiting for his first 'victim' in the Gauntlet. A familiar Russian factory theme hits the public address, as Zangief makes his way out. The big man gives a huge thumbs up to the crowd and he walks to the ring.
Collier waits for Zangief to enter the ring and head to the center for Walt Mason to make introductions – before he cracks Zangief with straight right to the jaw. The burly Russian hits the canvas before the bell rings.
Ashley Collier vs. Zangief
Collier reaches outside and asks for a microphone – before walking over to Zangief and placing a food amidst the hirsute forest on Zangief’s chest.
“Zangief…” Collier says, as Walt Mason counts three. “You just got knocked… the BEEP out!”
(JB) My Gord, Bear! Did you see that right? That was barely even a match – as if Zangief wasn't even trying.
(Tom) He knew that Collier would've done worse to him.
(JB) I’m pretty sure he’s already broken Zangief’s jaw. What else could he have done?
(Tom) One word: Scrotum.
The lights cut out and the rapid chords and drums of "Riot" by Three Days Grace ring through the arena. A red spotlight shines on the top of the stage, and three figures step out. In front is Slush, in dark red tights, wearing fingerless gloves and black sunglasses. Behind him comes his manager Twitch, carrying Blake Bouchard over his shoulder.
As the music goes into the chorus, Slush stalks down to the ring. Slush slides under the bottom rope, before tossing his sunglasses out to Twitch
(Tom) What Good does this nitwit think he’s going to do against Collier after the Golden Warrior already knocked Zangief out?
(JB) Zangief isn’t half the wrestler that Slush is, Bear.
(Tom) Well, Collier’s coming into this with nothing but sore knuckles.
(JB) Slush doesn’t even have those.
(Tom) Collier’s a former champion!
(JB) Slush… well Ammo was one half of the Tag Team Champions!
(Tom) Right, because that big ‘tard is in the ring right now.
Ashley Collier vs. Slush
Collier again tries a sneak attack straight right, but Slush ducks the haymaker. He returns Collier’s right with a right of his own, peppering the Golden Warrior’s jaw with rapid shots. Collier retreats into the corner - looking for an escape, only to be monkey flipped into the center of the ring by Slush. Collier bails to the other corner, and when Slush charges in – Collier lifts him and drops him face first on the turnbuckle.
Collier pulls Slush to his feet, tossing a heavy right into the Good’s midsection. Irish-whip is reversed, leaving Slush to hit a flying back elbow and kip up.
(JB) Now that Ice Breaker certainly was refreshing!
(Tom) Quit plugging and stop worrying, Mann-Wheel! Collier’s on the ropes!
(JB) That’s what you call ring rust, Bear – it happens when you’ve been suspended.
Slush climbs to the top rope, looking for his twisting moonsault. When he sees Collier about to move, Slush changes his momentum and lands on his feet. With both men up in a vertical position, Slush charges at Collier, who drops to one knee and lifts Slush into a Fireman’s Carry. As Slush struggles, Collier spins him around into a 3/4 neckbreaker. He then floats over and covers for the three.
(Tom) Ring Rush? More like rope a dope!
(JB) Would you quit your gloating?
(Tom) Looks like Slush has a glass jaw after all!
As Slush rolls out of the ring, holding his head, Twitch waves Ammo down to the ring. Eschewing an entrance – Ammo slides under the bottom rope and immediately goes to work on Collier, backing him up to the corner with heavy rights.
Ashley Collier vs. Ammo
(Tom) Yeah, because that worked so well for Smush.
(JB) Scoff if you will, Bear – Collier is caught in the Crossfire! Ammo’s strikes are just as – if not more so – deadly as Ashley Collier’s!
(Tom) Pffft. No one knows the Power of the Punch like Ashley Collier!
Except William Regal. But I digress.
Ammo irish-whips Collier into the opposite buckle and a blind charge connects – all three hundred and sixty one pounds of Ammunition slamming into Collier’s smaller frame. When Collier stumbles out – Ammo back body drops him into the center of the ring.
Collier rolls underneath the bottom rope and bails to the outside. He stumbles into Twitch, who tosses Blake Bouchard into Collier’s face – forcing him back inside the ring. Collier squirms on the mat, trying to rip the crusty towel off of his face.
Only when Ammo drops an elbow does Collier toss it off successfully.
Collier crawls to the corner as Walt Mason tries to usher Blake out of the ring… allowing the Golden Warrior to slip a pair of brass knuckles onto his right fist. Ammo approaches Collier, looking to move in for the kill, only to catch a rising uppercut in the jaw.
Collier stows the knucks in his trunks and covers Ammo for a three.
(Tom) Ring the bell! We have a winnah!
(JB) He needed to cheat to beat the big man!
(Tom) Twitch started it, waving that nasty rag around!
(JB) A towel is one thing, Bear – Brass knuckles are another entirely!
Collier moves to Walt Mason to have his hand raised. Mason refuses. Collier starts yelling at Mason, telling him to ring the damn bell – to raise his damn hand. Mason simply points to the big screen at the top of the ramp – where a large word comes up...
SAINT
The crowd is now stunned, as the smark sites actually got one right...
As the bass and drums kick in "Naveed" by Our Lady Peace cranks up...
Jaime Alejandro hits the ramp and looks at the crowd, as he does, he raises a fist in the air to the sound of a huge pyro shot.
He walks to the ring clad in the Blue MMA trunks and his matching boots and gloves. As he takes a second to jump into the ring, he lands with both feet and looks around ready for action.
(JB) He's back! The man of many names... The Walking Riot, The Original Beast...
(Tom) The damn Saint! I thought we got rid of that psycho a long time ago. When the 'roids ate up his body.
(JB) Doesn't look like he's in bad shape to me, Bear... more like a lean, mean fighting machine!
Jaime looks at a stunned Collier and proceeds to lay down the wood. They begin trading rights and lefts all around. A straight right stuns Jaime, who returns with a kick to the thigh, hamstringing Collier. A second shot to the knee sends Collier backwards. Jaime pushes him back to the ropes for a bounce back into a jumping knee.
The crowd is going nuts as they can't believe what they're seeing. Jaime picks up Collier and puts him up on the shoulders with the back against his neck. Jaime goes backwards hard.
CRIMSON REVOLVER!
Jaime does a backward roll over Collier and moves him into a pinning situation.
1. 2. 3.
(JB) Would you look at that! Looks like the tables have turned!
(Tom) No, no, no, no... It's like my worst nightmare came true. What's next, he goes after everyone again...
Jaime grabs a mic from the announcers and looks down at Collier.
(Jaime) Hello, Ashley... In case you don't know me or didn't care to, in your case... My name is JAIME (beep)ING ALEJANDRO. Oh, and so you know. Seems the boss really hates your guts. Come to think of it, so does everyone else... But not to worry, sir... After looking for someone to shut you up, they found me. Lucky you...
So, Ashley... This isn't anything personal, son. Let's call this my 'retirement' tour. But unlike those who need to retire, I'm not in any danger of leaving. I'm just going down the list of people...
He goes all the way down on the mat where the prone Collier still is.
(Jaime) ...like you. That I'm going to go in and take out. Friends, enemies, students, people I don't know. From Snake to Cunning; Gilmour to Lane; and Owens to Stryker. Nobody's safe. And remember, Mr. Collier. If you want to find me for a sense of being a man, you ain't gotta look far. Just look for the pissed off Beaner.
I'll dance, boy...
Jaime puts down the mic and rolls out of the ring. And just as quickly, he starts walking all the way to the back...
(JB) Jaime Alejandro is back!
(Tom) Well I sure as hell didn't want to see him around here anymore. Shouldn't he be sitting on his fat ass drinking some Coronas while watching Carlos Mencia? The new NAFW is for rising stars like Collier, not has-beens like Jaime.
(JB) Jaime is a former Foundation Heavyweight Champion, and by the look of things tonight, he's still got it going on!
(Tom) Pfft, whatever. I'm pretty sure this match doesn't even count. I don't remember seeing Jaime's name on the card!
(JB) The card is subject to change, Bear! I don't think they'll be giving you a refund tonight.
Unlikely Alliance
We are backstage at the arena in Montreal, Quebec, Canada as Peter Gilmour is getting ready for his tag match with his partner the Atlantic Champion Andy D against Snake and Psycho. It is the first time Peter and Andy D have teamed up, but their alliance is true. They both hate the other partner with a passion. Andy hates Snake for hurting him and Peter and Psycho have only begun their epic feud. The camera pans into peter's locker room where Peter is talking on his cell phone to someone. We catch him in mid conversation.
(Peter) Yeah it's going to be a great night. The NAFW is back after a long hiatus and I can't wait to get my hands around Psycho's neck again. That match we had at Chain Reaction was just a warm up. Next time we fight, it will be more brutal and bloody. Psycho is no match for me. He is nothing compared to my brute strength and power. But tonight, I have an ally in Andy D, the Atlantic Champion. I have a lot of respect for Andy and I think he will go to the top here in the NAFW.
Max Masterson comes into the room.
(Peter) I got to go. Bye.
Peter hangs up the phone as he shakes his friends hand and pats him on the back.
(Max) How are you feeling old friend?
(Peter) Pretty good just mentally preparing for my match with Psycho and Snake.
(Max) Good. Have you talked with Andy D about strategy?
(Peter) Talked with him last night on the phone dude. He says he is ready to teach Psycho and Snake a lesson. He said we should focus on the people we're fighting. He will focus on Snake, and I will focus on beating the holy hell out of Psycho. It should be a great match but I think we have the experience on our side and we should be able to beat them.
(Max) Just as long as you guys are on the same page, you should be able to win this match.
(Peter) We shall see old friend. For now, all I want is to beat the shit out of Psycho and remind him of the beating I gave him at the Pay per View. Tonight, Psycho and his partner Snake get taken.. TO THE XTREEEEEEEEME!
Peter and Max look at each other intently before nodding and heading off down the hall. While walking down the corridor, they see Andy D.
(Peter) Good luck man. See you out there.
Peter smacks Andy on the chest and Andy grimaces a little bit. We fade out with Andy looking at Peter and Max going to get ready to go to the ring.
How’d You Get This Number?
Fade into the Trust Fund Kid’s locker room once again. This time Trevor Cunning is lying face first on the floor with Jack Daniel’s spilled all around him. Keith enters the room and immediately rushes to his partner’s side, fearing another Jack Attack staged by the Old School Empire.
Keith kneels down on the floor and rolls Trevor onto his side. There’s no shattered glass, no blood, and no sign of an attack – only an alcoholic partner. The Difference Maker picks up the nearly empty bottle of Jack that had spilled. He looks at Trevor’s pupils. The Godfather is not in good shape, but he won’t be taking an ambulance ride tonight. He lets go of Trevor’s head and it hits the floor with a thud. Cunning will probably feel that bump in the morning.
Just as the Grand Slam Champion rises to his feet, his cell phone goes off. Keith pulls it out of his pants pocket and reads the Caller ID screen. It’s an unlisted number. After pondering over it for a moment or two, Keith decides to answer the call.
(Keith) Hello?
Pause.
(Keith) Who is this? How did you get this number?
There is a much longer pause as Keith slowly paces in the locker room with a confused look on his face.
(Keith) Jack Henderson? Who the…
Once more there is a break in the conversation on this end as the caller is saying something else to Keith.
(Keith) Call me back tomorrow. I’ll be able to tell you more then.
And with that, Keith presses the “End” button on his phone to hang up. He covers his mouth with one hand as he continues to stare down at his mobile phone in a state of confusion.
Trevor, meanwhile, starts to crawl on the floor to reach for his bottle of Jack. His clumsy hands knock over the bottle once again, and Keith simply walks out of the room.
Fade out.
COMMERCIAL
The following advertisement is paid for by the Stephen Owens Presidential Campaign:
Are you ready to dropkick big business?
Do you feel like superkicking government interference?
Have you ever dreamed of flying high and elbow dropping restrictions on your liberties?
Then its time to crown a new champion!
Vote for Stephen Owens to be your next President of the United States in 2008!
"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
(JB) Up next we have a rather odd match with some strange bed fellows as Peter Gilmour is teaming with the NAFW Atlantic Champion, Andy D, to take on the unlikely team of Psycho and Snake.
(Tom) Pfft...I don't find this odd at all. Need I remind you that at Last Rites, Andy D nearly killed Wilson in that Snakes on a Cage match? If you ask me, anything that these 4 men do to each other, they each totally deserve it in one way or another.
The lights in the arena go black and the fans get excited as cameras flash all around.. Suddenly, a gigantic lightning bolt comes down from the ceiling and hits the rampway and engulfs into flames for just a moment. The beginning chords of Walk With me in Hell by LAMB OF GOD begins to play as the lights turn dark red. Ashley Marie comes out in a smoking hot red dress wearing dark black makeup covering her eyes. She then looks back as another bolt of lightning hits the ramp, but this time the fire stays longer. The song speeds up as Peter Gilmour comes out wearing a long red cloak (not his traditional black cloak) with no hood. Peter sees the flames in front of him and goes right through it with no fear of getting severly burned by the intense heat. Peter meets Ashley and then rolls his eyes in back of his head as blood begins to come out and the camera cuts to some fans who are scared to death of what they are seeing. The duo then goes to the ring. Ashey gets in normally, as does Peter who then gets into the middle of the ring and throws up a "X" as fire emits from the turnbuckles.
(Troy) The following tag team match-up is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, being accomping by Ashley Marie... Weighing in at 255 pounds...PETER GILMOUR!
The Arena lights go down as the 'Ace' Signature logo appears on screen. A large '1' is spray panted over the top before Keep Yourself Alive II kicks in over the PA. Andy comes out and heads towards the ring, hand slapping a couple of the audience along the way. Andy climbs into the ring and heads to his turnbuckle, flipping his bucket hat off his head and placing on the metal part of the turnbuckle. He takes off his shades and places them on the hat before turning to Peter Gilmour to briefly discuss a possible strategy for their opponents this evening.
(Troy) And his partner, he is the NAFW Atlantic Champion....Weighing in at pounds...ANDY D!
The arena goes black as Terrible by the Insane Clown Posse comes over the PA and neon green strobe lights start. Carlos Smith's face appears on the tron with red eyes. A figure comes out wearing a straitjacket followed by Carlos himself. Carlos removes the straitjacket on the stage, so that Psycho isn't double teamed in the ring.
(Troy) And their opponents...First weighing in at 200 pounds...PSYCHO!
The opening riff plays as the word and name "SNAKE" flashes across the screen. As the guitars start to pick up, Snake is seen coming out from the back to a chorus of boos from the crowd in attendance. Snake throws his arms up in the air causing green pyro to go off on the stage behind him.
(Troy) And finally...Weighing in at 227 pounds...SNAKE!
Andy D (AC) & Peter Gilmour vs. Psycho & Snake
Snake and Psycho, not wanting to wait, run to the ring and begin to brawl with Peter and Andy. Peter and Psycho are starting to go at it as they roll around the ring and then outside. Snake has Andy D in the corner and hits a sick knife edged chop to Andy's bare chest. Andy flinches. Snake sends him to the other turnbukcle. Snake charges but meets a huge boot from Andy and then gets clotheslined down. Andy falls to the mat, exhausted and tries to catch his breathe. Meanwhile, Peter and Psycho are tearing eahc other apart on the arena floor. Peter somehow gets the advantage and hits Psycho with a spine buster on the concrete. A loud splat on the floor. Peter smiles and then gets on the ring apron and practically yells at Andy to tag him in. after a while, Andy tags in Peter and they do a double team back body drop on Snake who is writhing in pain. Peter begins to laugh as Psycho starts to stir on the outside. Peter now in control and hits a sick German suplex and holds on for another then a release german suplex. Peter goes for the cover.
1...
2..
Kick out at 2.
Peter seems frustrated and Andy D. is back in and goes to town on Snake. Psycho finally makes it to his corner but is not looking his best. Andy hits a roundhouse kick and then taunts Psycho who tries to come into the ring but Peter spears him and then throws Psycho outside where he proceeds to throw Psycho into the steel steps with a sick thud. Andy D now sends Snake into the ropes but Snake scouts the move and ducks then on the rebound hits a flying forearm sending Gilmour to the mat. Snake with punches to Peter's face and tries to pin.
1..
2..
thr- NO!
Somehow Peter kicked out. He is in some pain and Snake keeps on the attack stomping Peter's arms and legs ala Randy Orton. he picks Peter up and slams him down. Going to the turnbuckle he mocks Peter then flies off missing a leg drop by about a mile. Andy D is screaming for a tag. Peter slowly crawls over to the corner but Snake stops him and grabs his ankle. Peter hops on one foot and hits a sick enziguri. Both men are laid out. The referee begins his count.
1.....
2....
3......
4.........
5............
6.............
Peter starts to stir as he is close to Andy.
7................
Snake tags in Psycho but its too late as Peter makes the hot tag to Andy who comes in a house of fire. Big clotheslines and a back body drop to Psycho followed by a big boot to Psycho. Andy screams to the crowd for the end and he tries to go for his finisher but Snake comes in to break it up and hit Andy with a sick looking DDT. Andy is down and Psycho being the ever opportunist grabs a cover.
1...
2...
Th-NO!
Andy kicks out a 2 3/16. Peter Gilmour is now up to his feet after shaking off the cobwebs and sees Andy D. in danger and tries to get him to tag him as the crowd gets into it. Andy starts to fight back and sends Snake into the ropes but telegraphs the back body drop and gets a kick to the chest. Andy doesn't budge but smiles at Snake and Psycho as he hits the double clothesline on both Snake and Psycho as he falls down. The ref starts his count again. He gets to 5 before Andy starts the slow crawl over to Peter. Fans are going crazy wanting a tag and they get it as Andy falls into the corner at the count of 8. Peter comes in like a man posessed as he hits Psycho with a sick clothesline turning him inside out, and then hits Snake with a sick version of the R K O called the Gilmour Cutter. Peter goes for the cover but Psycho is the legal man.
Psycho, who is now on his feet and in the ring, stalks a still unaware Peter as the referee explains that Snake tagged out. Snake rolls out of the ring, holding his neck. Peter argues with the ref for a few seconds before walking right into the waiting hands of Psycho. Psycho looks to hit the Klown, but Peter kicks Psycho in the gut, causing him to release his grip. Peter goes for another Gilmour Cutter on Psycho, but that is averted as Psycho pushed Peter off quickly. Psycho charges at Peter, but misses a big boot attempt, and gets caught up on the top ropes. Snake slides a chair under the bottom rope and climbs on the apron, tagging himself in as Peter hits a dropkick, taking Psycho down to the floor. The referee checks on Psycho as Peter taunts and yells something at Psycho, turning to Andy, who is still slightly groggy, all proud of himself and looking to tag out.
Snake climbs in the ring with the chair in hand and charges at Peter. Peter, almost like a second sense, ducks an oncoming Snake, who, in turn, takes Andy D out with a chair shot. From the gestures Snake's now making, you'd think that that chair shot was more of something Snake's been planning since the start of the match, than a "missed shot" that was intended for Peter Gilmour. Snake, content with the damage he's done, tosses the chair to ringside. Peter sees the carnage Snake's caused and, realising that he's going to have to win this by himself, grabs Snake by his arm, whips him around, and kicks him in the gut. Peter grabs Snake and looks to hit the Doomsday, but Snake is able to block it with a few quick elbows to the side of Peter's head. With Peter now trying to shake the cobwebs out of his own head, Snake quickly repositions, and hits an STO style backbreaker, repositions once again so now he's got Peter in an inverted facelock. Snake then quickly turns and connects with the Venom Sting and repositions for the pin attempt.
1...
2...
3!
(Troy) And here are your winners, the team of Snake and Psycho!
(JB) BY GOD what a match! But you can't help but think that that chair shot Snake gave Andy D was on purpose.
(Tom) I'm going have to remind you of Last Rites again, aren't I?
(JB) No, but if I had to guess, this issue with Snake and Andy D is far from over.
Wait for You
Backstage. What we have now is Spaz, with his manager, Twitch walking alongside in the halls. Unlike Spaz, Twitch looks pretty much identical to the last time we saw him. Still shortish, still bald-ish. In short, still Twitch. And we wouldn't have it any other way.
As they're walking, Spaz's look of focus shifts to one that can be best described as mild annoyance. As the pair stop, Twitch looks kind of pleased with himself for some reason.
(Twitch) Well, if it isn't Mickey Line!
The shot pulls back and pans left, revealing Mike Lane, who stands a few feet away from Spaz and Twitch. Lane is carrying a briefcase.
(Lane) Twitch.
Spaz, still mildly annoyed, interjects.
(Spaz) If you'll excuse us, I have a Championship to win.
Lane, perhaps surprisingly, smiles at this.
(Lane) What? Nothing to say to your old pal Mike Lane?
Spaz doesn't skip a beat.
(Spaz) Pretty much. As far as I'm concerned, we're done. I finished it at Chain Reaction.
Spaz looks Lane straight in the eye and takes a step forward.
(Spaz) Now, as I said: Excuse us.
Again perhaps somewhat surprisingly, Lane actually steps back.
(Lane) By all means...
Without another word, Spaz looks at Twitch, and the pair pass Lane and continue on their way.
(Lane) Just one more second, Sean!
Spaz stops, but doesn't turn around. Twitch does, and catches the continued smile of Mike Lane.
(Lane) We may not be as "done" as you think. Just a little friendly advice: Keep a little in the tank against Stryker, because I'll be waiting.
At this point, Lane raises the briefcase in his hand and taps it, smiling all the while. Spaz doesn't see it, or apparently even care to do so. Still without turning, Spaz replies.
(Spaz) That was ten seconds.
Lane laughs.
(Lane) What's a few extra seconds between friends?
With no further reply, Spaz is out of here. After a moment, Twitch follows, and we refocus on the smile of Mike Lane.
That's all.
(JB) Why can't Mike Lane just leave Spaz alone?
(Tom) It's simple, Mannwheel. Lane still has that Wish to use, and from what he just said, it sounds like he might be ready to pull it out tonight!
(JB) And if Spaz does come out of tonight's main event victorious...
(Tom) Then "done" will be the last word to describe things between Spaz and Mike Lane!
More Sore Losers
We're back in The Goods' locker room. This time, only Slush and Ammo are present (because Twitch was out in the hallway with Spaz just a moment ago. You see how that works?). Slush has removed the bracing from the bobo doll and he's taking some frustration out on it. The poor doll does what it's built to do, flopping to the ground before bouncing right back up for another punch.
(Slush) Well that sucked.
Ammo nods. With Twitch gone, he can't repeat his warm-up like Slush is doing... So instead he's just watching as the bobo doll flails around.
Their attention snaps to the door, as it opens to reveal the Thomas Brothers.
(Shane) Hey, we just wanted to congratulate you on your win...
(Dustin) It was simply stunning the way that you did that.
(Shane) Just marvelous. Thank you so much for showing us how it's done!
(Dustin) As if we ever needed lessons from the likes of you!
To this point, Slush and Ammo hadn't moved. Now Ammo stands up, and Slush steps around the bobo doll.
(Slush) We could teach you a lesson or two right now!
This might get ugly.
(Shane) Let's see you try!
The Thomases step further into the room and the two teams take sides as if the locker room were a ring. The Goods on the left and the Empire to the right. They're just about ready to charge at each other, when the sound of the door opening grabs everyone's attention again.
Standing in the open doorway is NAFW Commisioner Ray Buchanan.
(Buchanan) Enough of that.
All four men keep one eye on Buchanan, and the other on an adversary.
(Buchanan) I see you can't stay out of each other's hair. It's a problem I seem to have with most of this roster! Apparently the break from action didn't cool anyone's jets. But that works for me... Only you're going to save it for the ring in next week's match: The Goods versus The Old School Empire! And the winners go on to Breaking Point against The Trust Fund Kids for the Tag Team Championships!
(Buchanan) In fact, we're going to have three number one contendership matches next week. Not only will you four compete for the Tag Team Championships number one contendership, but Snake will take on Peter Gilmour for the Atlantic Championship number one contendership, and Hush and Tyrone Smith WILL get into the ring and battle it out for the number one contendership for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship, with the winner facing Spaz or Stryker at the Pay Per View!
With Buchanan's pronouncement done, the four of them are glaring across the room at each other once again. And that's where we cut.
(JB) What a huge announcement! We're going to decide Number One Contenders for all the championships next week!
(Tom) Doesn't matter for the Tag Team titles. Either of them will lose to the Trust anyway.
(JB) We'll wait until Breaking Point to find out about that.
COMMERCIAL
The following advertisement is paid for by the Stephen Owens Presidential Campaign:
Do you want to see violent criminal offenders body slammed by justice?
Do you want drug dealers to tap out to the law?
Do you want gang members to tag out of your neighborhoods?
Then its time to crown a new champion!
Vote for Stephen Owens to be your next President of the United States in 2008!
"I am Stephen Owens, and I approve of this message."
(JB) We’re back for the main event folks – and we’ve used up all of our commercial breaks!
(Tom) Big deal – it’s five until the hour.
(JB) We’ve heard from TNT – and we’ll be staying on the air until this match ends – no matter how long it takes.
(Tom) So we’ll be tuning off at eleven exactly, then?
(JB) C’mon Bear.
(Tom) Please, Mann-Wheel – it’s not like Spaz has been lighting the world on fire. And Stryker still has to be tired after Chain Reaction.
(JB) Didn’t Chain Reaction take place months ago?
(Tom) Feels like it.
Both Tom and JB look at the camera, shake their heads, and continue speaking.
(Tom) These too schmucks are probably going to have a slap fight until someone forfeits after they break a nail.
There go the lights and here comes the screeching guitar.
A single spotlight shines on the ramp as Hoobastank's "Just One" kicks into gear. The spot remains empty for a few moments, until the lyrics begin.
Sean Thomas steps into the light, wearing his simple black pants and dark red elbow pads and wristbands. He also sports his new SpaZ Throwback t-shirt. Standing behind Sean is his manager, the man known as Twitch. The former commentator wears navy blue khakis and a red golf shirt. As usual – Twitch has Blake Bouchard over his shoulder. Rather unusually – he has a wide brimmed panama hat on. He jumps in front of Thomas and starts doing a rather boisterous dance.
Sean laughs, takes the hat, and tosses it into the crowd before heading towards the ring. Twitch follows behind, looking slightly dejected.
(Tom) Hah! That’s the greatest thing that Sean Thomas has ever done, aside from nearly destroying the company and all.
(JB) One – that wasn’t Sean Thomas. That was Ryan Cardinal and the Order. Two - You really thought the company falling into ruins was a great moment?
(Tom) Free vacation? Unemployment check? Spending all my days being sponge bathed by your mother? Sign me up!
(JB) You need help.
(Tom) Your mother helps me out. If you know what I mean.
(JB) I hate you.
(Tom) And I, you.
Sean and Twitch pass the cheering fans, slapping hands. Twitch tries to kiss a baby – only to be dragged back towards the ring by Sean. Cue Troy Gilmore's voice.
(Troy) Introducing, from Brampton, Ontario... He weighs in at 232 pounds... SEAN THOMAS!
Sean climbs the steel steps and enters the ring between the middle and top ropes. Meanwhile Twitch wanders around to the far side of the ring. Once inside, Sean pulls off the t-shirt and tosses it over the ropes, where Twitch catches it. As the music begins to fade, Sean tests the ropes, and Twitch plays a game of "Want it? Can't have it!" with fans in the front row, before finally giving the souvenir to a young fan in the front row..
(Tom) Awww… isn’t that cute. Make me vomit.
(JB) Why do you hate Twitch so much, Bear?
(Tom) You don’t remember? When he used to harass me? We ended up having a match? I kicked his ass from here to your mother’s house?
(JB) I don’t remember it going down that way.
(Tom) Well, let’s just say that Twitch is a word that rhymes with his own name.
(JB) Can we talk about Spaz – trying to reclaim the Foundation Heavyweight Championship?
(Tom) We could, but I’d rather talk about what an ass-suck Twitch is.
(JB) You’re incorrigible.
(Tom) That means awesome right.
The house lights go down as "Til I Collapse" by Eminem begins to play through the arena. As the song goes through it's dark intro, various scenes from NYC come across the NAFW-Tron.
YO LEFT, YO LEFT, YO LEFT RIGHT LEFT!!
As the line repeats and the dialogue of the song starts in the background, the scene changes to a simple panoramic of the NYC Skyline. When the drums kick in, lightning fills the sky with each beat, and through the cloud cover, the word "STRYKER" can be made out with each bolt of lightning.
When the song finally kicks in, The house lights come up, with a bright white light punctuating each clap in the songs beat. Mike Stryker comes out in his black sweatshirt, hood up, hair hanging down in front of his face. The light reflects off a new edition to Stryker’s ensemble – the Foundation Heavyweight Championship he wears around his waist. He marches out, and as the crowd gives a roar of approval, he raises his right fist over his head. He gives the crowd a quick look before he begins marching himself to the ring, oblivious to the cheers.
(Tom) Would you look at this? This is a travesty!
(JB) What on earth do you mean, Bear? Mike Stryker is a worthwhile champion! He very well may be the most deserving champion we’ve had since business started back up!
(Tom) The man used to tag with Rook the Angel of Mercy and Cylent for Gord’s sake.
(JB) That was just a phase in Stryker’s career, Bear.
(Tom) Nice pun, Mann-Hole.
(JB) Just like being part of the FLF. Just like being a heavily decorated champion – every part of Mike Stryker’s career has been evolving – building to this very moment.
(Tom) Nice hyperbole. Mann-Wich. You up all night writing that?
(JB) No. I went bed around two-thirty.
Stryker Rolls under the bottom rope and gets up on the opposite turnbuckles, raising not his fist, but the as the crowd roars once more. He crosses the ring and repeats the action to another cheer. He dismounts from the buckles and pulls off his sweatshirt, tossing it aside and pacing the ring, waiting for the match to begin.
Spaz vs. Mike Stryker (FH)
Foundation Heavyweight Championship
(JB) The Champ and the Candyman are starting things off with a handshake.
(Tom) Yech. Good sportsmanship makes me sick.
(JB) Why doesn’t that surprise me?
(Tom) Sportsmanship and most dairy products.
(JB) Most?
(Tom) Well, I can lick whipped cream off your mom without any problem, Mann-Wheel!
Nearly thirty seconds later, and Spaz and Stryker have yet to break the handshake. They pull each other in close, nose to nose, each man trying to gain some kind of mental advantage over the other. Stryker, oddly enough, is the first to break – heading back to his corner.
They meet again in the center of the ring, locking up in a collar and elbow fashion. Stryker pushes Spaz back towards a neutral corner, using his strength advantage to muscle the former NAFW Champion to a position of powerlessness.
Referee James Elbourn calls for a clean break and, in a rare show of sportsmanship (around these parts anyway, you goddamn tweeners) Stryker backs away. He does however pat Spaz on the chest as if to say “I can do this anytime I want.”
Spaz and Stryker again lock up midring, Spaz dropping to his knees and taking Stryker down with a fireman’s carry. Spaz floats over the champ, brings him up in a front chancery and quickly ducks back behind the champ. He again drops to a knee, brings Stryker to the mat with a double leg takedown, wraps his legs around Stryker’s waist and begins spinning, rolling Stryker by the hips into a pinning position.
Spaz gets two, kips up, and looks at the champ as if to say: “I too can play this game.”
Spaz charges, Stryker sweeps the leg and covers with a lateral press for less than one. Spaz rolls through to his feet, takes Stryker over with a wrist lock, but the champ somersaults forward, back to his feet and moves to hiptoss Spaz. Spaz lands on his feet, wrings Stryker’s arm and brings it back into a hammerlock. Stryker elbows Spaz in the jaw and snap mares him.
Spaz however, holds onto Stryker’s head with his ankles and turns the snapmare into a headscissors takedown. Stryker rolls through, both men kip up, and crowd responds with a round of applause.
(Tom) I thought Spaz wanted to win the title.
(JB) Of course he does, Bear.
(Tom) Then where’s the choking, the eye gouging and the shots to the gonads?
(JB) I know this is a foreign concept to you, Bear – but Spaz is going to try and win this one fairly.
(Tom) Fair, Schmair! I want blood, damnit! Besides, the fans paid to see a fight!
(JB) The fans paid to see a wrestling match, Bear. Besides, since when do you care about the fans?
(Tom) Ever since it gets me bloodshed and violence and Twitch in a full body cast.
Stryker moves the center of the ring and asks Spaz for a test of strength. Spaz accepts and the moment the two lock knuckles, Spaz leaps up, placing his feet on Stryker’s thighs. He rolls backwards into a makeshift monkey flip, taking the Big City Hit Man to his back. Stryker pulls himself up in the corner, and block’s Spaz’s second attempt at a monkey flip, causing the Candyman to land on his back on the mat.
Stryker sprints forward, looking for a lariat as Spaz climbs to his feet, but Thomas ducks, hooking the arm and bringing Stryker down with a crucifix for two. Stryker rolls through, grabs Spaz’s legs, and flips forward, looking for a jackknife. He gets two before Spaz hooks his arms with Spaz’s legs and brings him back down for another two count.
Stryker kicks his legs in, breaking the count at two. He charges Spaz and is taken over with an armdrag. Both men are back up quick, and Stryker responds with an armdrag of his own. However, whereas Spaz let go, Stryker holds on and applies a cross-arm breaker.
Spaz immediately locks his legs in the ropes. Stryker breaks the hold at three and returns to a neutral corner. Spaz climbs up, shaking his shoulder out. Stryker holds his hand out, fingers an inch apart as if to say “I was this close.”
(JB) That’s why he’s the champ, Bear! Stryker can slap on a variety of submissions anywhere at anytime.
(Tom) Well good for him. If making grown men cry was a prerequisite to being Heavyweight Champion – then my mother would’ve held the title years ago.
(JB) And just as quickly – Spaz can escape.
(Tom) If only I could get away so easily.
They lock up for a third time in the center of the ring, but when Spaz drops to his knees to hit a fireman’s carry, Stryker knees the Candyman in the jaw. A snap suplex and a float over give the Big City Hit Man yet another two count. Spaz rolls to his feet, but Stryker buries his shoulder into Spaz’s midsection, backing him up into the corner.
James Elbourn calls for a clean break, but Stryker neglects to oblige. He instead tosses two heavy chops into Spaz’ chest before Elbourn reaches the five count. He backs out, waits for Spaz to walk forward, and then hip tosses the Candyman.
However, Spaz holds on, turning the hip toss attempt into a Mexican armdrag. Stryker scrambles to his feet and runs forward, eating a droptoe hold on the way. Spaz hops forward into a side headlock, bringing Mike to his feet. Stryker powers Spaz forward, pushing off the ropes to break the headlock. He leapfrogs Spaz on the return and positions himself to hit Spaz with a belly-to-belly on the return. Instead, Spaz slides between Stryker’s legs and back to his feet, hitting the opposite ropes. Stryker, confused, is not ready when Spaz comes back with a flying headscissors.
He bails to the corner, allowing Spaz to successfully hit a monkey flip. A Sweets Kick on he recovering Stryker gets two. Spaz checks with Elbourn and looks back at Stryker, frustrated. He tosses a forearm into the side of Stryker’s head and pulls him back to his feet. A suplex attempt is reversed, allowing Mike to roll Spaz up for two.
Spaz kicks out, and Mike runs forward, looking for a lariat. He finds a second Sweets Kick waiting for him. This also gets two. Again, Stryker scrambles to his feet, but he’s so disorientated that Spaz can simply lift him up with a double leg takedown.
(JB) Spaz is looking for the Sharpshooter! If he gets this, it’ll be all over!
(Tom) The Hit Man, caught in the Sharpshooter – how ironic.
The opening notes to “Superhero” by Jane’s Addiction hit the Public Address. The crowd looks at the entryway, confused. Has Adrian Grenier or maybe Jeremy Piven signed with the NAFW? Will the Entourage replace the System in wrestling fans’ hearts?
As if.
None other than “Mr. Hollywood” himself, Michael Lane, emerges from the entranceway. He’s wearing white pants, a designer shirt unbuttoned just enough to allow his chest hair to spill over the top, and the largest, most obnoxious pair of aviators you’ve ever seen.
(JB) What the hell is he doing here?
(Tom) Making this technical snore fest much more interesting.
(JB) Lane has no right nor any reason to be out here!
Spaz releases Stryker’s legs and heads to the ropes to yell at Lane, who simply heads over to the commentary position to sit down with Tom and JB. Twitch starts yelling at Spaz to go back and focus on the match – letting the Candyman know that he’ll take care of Lane should any fishy business occur.
Like that inspires a vote of confidence.
(Tom) Michael! Welcome to the announce position!
(Lane) I wish I could say the pleasure is all mine, Bear – but really – let’s be honest – you, Mann and the fans are blessed to have me out here to save them from the tedium that is this title match.
(JB) Tedium? Just because you can’t hang with these two doesn’t mean you can insult them, Lane!
(Tom) Don’t listen to him, Mikey! Mann-wheel gets cranky when he hasn’t had his nap yet.
(Lane) Is that so? Then just look in the ring, JB – and you’ll fall right asleep. I can barely look myself – but you know what they say about carwrecks.
(Tom) You just can’t look away!
(Lane) Exactly.
Spaz returns to Stryker, bending over to pick the Big City Hit Man up. Stryker, however, was playing possum and rolls Spaz up in a small package for two. After kicking out, Spaz goes to boot Stryker in the chest, but instead catches an uppercut to the jaw.
(Lane) And the NAFW Original makes another rookie mistake!
(JB) Isn’t he the same guy who pinned you at Chain Reaction?
(Lane) For your information, Mann – Not only was I suffering from the influenza that evening – I had a fever of one hundred and three! I could have, and was ordered by my doctors – to remain in bed that evening but I showed up for the fans because you know what they say in Hollywood?
(Tom) The show must go on!
(Lane)Exactly.
(JB) Did you two rehearse this routine or something?
(Tom) Hey Mann-Wagon – it’s not our fault we have chemistry!
(Lane) Hell, I’m made of chemistry! If I could bottle this stuff and sell it – I’d make millions – well, a few more million.
(Tom) Will you be my dad?
Stryker tosses a right into Spaz’s gut, doubling him over. A knife-edge chop brings Spaz back up right. This pattern repeats until Spaz is back against the ropes. An irish-whip sends him across the ring, but Spaz ducks the clothesline and hits the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. He ducks a second clothesline, stops on a dime, and dropkicks Stryker down.
The Big City Hit Man retreats to the corner. Spaz charges in. Stryker puts a boot up, kicking Spaz right in the face – before running out and bulldogging the challenger to the mat. He covers for two.
(JB) Spaz just hasn’t been the same since you came out here.
(Lane) It’s not my fault Sean can’t keep his mind on his business.
Stryker starts kneeing the challenger in the skull, backing Sean up on his knees into the corner. He pulls Sean up – chops him twice in the chest, and sets him on the top rope.
Stryker steps back and pops up, looking for the belly to belly superplex.
Only problem for Mike is, Spaz holds on to the top turnbuckle.
Stryker falls backwards, landing square on the mat. Spaz readies himself on the top turnbuckle, then flips backwards, landing on Stryker with a picture-perfect Sweetsault.
(Lane) Excuse me.
(JB) And where do you think you’re going?
(Lane) To make the magic happen.
Lane’s up just in time to pull Walt Mason out of the ring to the floor. This brings Twitch and Blake around the corner – charging as fast as a middle-aged man with a mental disorder can. He leaps up onto Lane’s back – trying to choke Mister Hollywood with Blake Bouchard, but Lane simply snapmares Twitch over.
(Tom) Now this nitwit is finally going to get what’s coming to him!
(JB) Twitch is defenseless, Bear! How can you take pleasure in this?
(Tom) I take pleasure in other people’s misery, Mann-Wheel? Just ask your mom what the safe word is!
(JB) Bear…
(Tom) It’s “Mustard!”
Before Lane can advance on Twitch, Spaz slides to the outside. He steps in between the two – and Lane retreats back to the announce table.
(JB) You’re despicable! Do you know that?
(Lane) I’ll let you know who’s despicable. It’s that idiot Twitch – trying to shove that crusty towel in my mouth… and that moron Sean Thomas – coming out of the ring looking to attack me!
(JB) You just cost him the match!
(Tom) It’s not like the moonsault would have finished!
(Lane) Exactly! Not to mention I saw Sean pulling Stryker’s tights! I couldn’t just sit by idly and let that happen, could I?
(Tom) Hell no!
(JB) Gord Grief.
Rolling back in the ring, Spaz catches a boot to the jaw from Stryker. Irish-whip is reversed, but when Spaz tries to hit a hurricanrana on the return, Stryker simply powerbombs him down. He covers for two, then holds on to Spaz’s legs and looks for the New York Cloverleaf.
(Tom) He’s got it! Stryker has the Cloverleaf!
(Lane) Now this is academic!
(JB) Spaz is pulling, crawling towards the ropes… now where are you going this time?
(Lane) I want to see Sean Thomas tap out up close and personal!
Lane heads over to the ringside area – where Sean Thomas is just about to grab the bottom rope, Lane pulls the rope away.
(JB) Can you believe this?
(Tom) How hasn’t Spaz tapped out yet?
Walt Mason, seeing Lane pull the ropes, hops to the outside. Stryker pulls Spaz back into the center of the ring – but without a referee – there’s no one to register the submission.
(JB) And now Lane has cost Stryker the match!
(Tom) He’s only trying to help!
(Lane) So what did I miss?
(Tom) Just a lot of whining from Mann-Hole here!
(JB) I can’t believe Walt Mason is letting you stay at ringside.
(Lane) What can I say – the man recognizes star power when he sees it!
Back in the ring – Stryker has Sean on the ropes, both literally and figuratively. He props Spaz up in the corner and steps back – again looking for the pop up belly to belly superplex.
This time – he hits it.
Spaz lands on the mat with a resounding thud – his body contorted in an awkward position. Stryker covers – and Spaz kicks out at the last second. Stryker buries his head in his hands, unable to believe it. He pulls Spaz back up, backs him up against the ropes, and chops him twice in the chest. Irish whip leads to a snap belly to belly and another cover and another kick out at two.
(Lane) Would you just die already?
(JB) Spaz is showing such great resilience, don’t you think, Bear?
(Tom) You heard Mike, Mann-Wagon! Die!
Again, Stryker goes back to the hell – pulling Spaz back to his feet, chopping his chest raw – and irish-whipping him across the ring. When Stryker ducks, looking for another suplex, Spaz kicks him in the chest.
(JB) Now he’s making a comeback!
(Lane)This isn’t supposed to happen!
Spaz hit the ropes and returns with a Sweets Kick, bringing Stryker down. As the Champ struggles to reach his feet – Spaz kips up! Spaz with a running knee lift, stunning the champ, and then he hits the ropes, floats over Stryker, and hits a reverse DDT!
(JB) Spaz Out!
(Lane) I know you’re watching in the back boys – hit the ring!
(JB) What the hell is he talking about?
(Tom) Aha! Here comes the cavalry!
Yes fans – we’re about to get as overbooked as a TNA Main Event. The Old School Empire rush the ring – and – in full view of the referee, try to enter the ring. Spaz knocks Dustin to the floor as Walt Mason tries to push Shane back out of the ring.
Stryker sits in the corner, recovering, still slightly out of it.
It’s at this point that Lane tosses his headset off and enters the ring. Spaz turns to face him, but not in time. Lane has already extended the leg for a beautiful…
(Tom) SHADOOOOOWWWWWW KICKKKKKKKK!
(JB) Damn Mike Lane! Damn him to hell!
Lane bails from the ring – waving to the OSE – telling them to head back towards the locker room. As Dustin and Shane turn and head up the ramp, Walt Mason is free to turn back towards the carnage in the ring.
Spaz is down. Stryker is standing over him. But he doesn’t cover him.
(Tom) Cover him you fool! Retain your title!
(JB) I don’t think Mike Stryker wants to win this way!
(Tom) But winning is everything! Television taught me that!
Stryker walks over to Walt Mason and tells him what happened. Mason rings the bell. Troy Gilmore hops up on the apron and has a word with Walt, before heading back to the announce position.
(Troy) Your winner, as a result of a disqualification – SEANNNNN THOMASSSSS!
The fans are unsure how to react. Lane is beside himself on the outside. Spaz, now back on his feet, hand clutching his ribs, asks for a microphone.
(Spaz) I appreciate the gesture, Mike – really, I do. But I don’t think either of us want this match to end in a disqualification.
Stryker nods his head in agreement.
(Spaz) So why doesn’t Walt ask Troy to ring the bell – and we find out who the better man is – without Lane sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong?
The fans start chanting “ring the bell.” Stryker, holding his Foundation Heavyweight Championship, looks pensive. Lane is going berserk.
(Tom) They can’t do this! We’re out of time!
(JB) No we’re not – we have until we find a winner!
(Stryker) You know Sean – if you’re ready to mess with the bull… you better damn be ready for the horns! Let’s DO THIS!
Stryker hands Mason the Foundation Heavyweight Championship belt. Mason raises it above his head once more and asks for the bell. Troy Gilmour obliges.
(JB) Folks – we have a match!
(Tom) Stryker is such an idiot!
(JB) Stryker’s a fighting champion!
(Tom) Not that it matters! Lane is about to put an end to this!
As Spaz and Stryker lock up - Lane hops up on the apron – and then the lights go out.
(JB) Oh no. Not again!
(Tom) Looks like we’re going to see some FHC Fricassee!
(JB) If someone gets set on fire, I swear to Gord I’m retiring!
After what amounts to fifteen, maybe twenty seconds of blackness – the lights return to normal, illuminating what now appears to be a gory crime scene photograph. Lane is on the outside, in the rubble of the ruined announce table. Neither JB nor Tom have managed to save their headsets.
Inside the ring – Spaz is crumpled in the corner in a heap – as if he had been thrown head first into the turnbuckles like a javelin.
The perpetrator of these assaults? Why – he’s standing in the middle of the ring - holding Mike Stryker by Stryker’s throat.
He is the only man dangerous enough – the only individual violent enough to destroy three Foundation Heavyweight Champions in twenty seconds.
He is a Monster.
He is the Monster.
He is Hush.
Hush chokeslams Stryker to the mat, before powering him up without ever letting go of his throat. One irish-whip later, and Stryker has faced the Deafening Silence.
Hush sits down on the mat amidst the carnage – rubbing his hands up his mask and through his hair, rocking back and forth like a frightened child. Only when Aleister Essex enters the ring and places his hand on the Monster’s shoulder does Hush settle down.
Essex hands Hush the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. Hush cradles the belt in his arms as if it were a child. If we could see behind the Monster’s mask… we would see that he is smiling. Next week, Hush will be one step closer to getting his shot at the gold. But for now...
Fade out to the logo.
