PRE-SHOW
Those Pre-Show Jitters
From the logo – we cut to the announce position to find Kramer with his head on the desk. A large arm, which one could easily mistake for an unwrapped tube of cookie dough were it not for the fingers, shoots in from off camera – nudging the NAFW institution into consciousness.
(Kramer) Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Poppin’ Fresh) Breathe Kramer. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give you mouth to mouth.
(Kramer) How on Gord’s green earth did you convince Hector to put you in the announce booth?
McJohnson looks down at the candy bar in his left hand, and quickly shoves it under the papers on the announce desk.
(Brian) Speaking of marriages – how’s the divorce coming, Kramer?
(Kramer) I legally cannot answer that question.
(Brian) Well, anyways… welcome to the Redemption pre-show. I’m Brian McJohnson.
(Kramer) Worst. Name. Ever.
(Brian) You’re a giant horse’s ass.
(Kramer) And you’re the size of horse with a giant ass.
(Brian) Keep pushing my buttons, old man.
(Kramer) I’m Kramer – the NAFW Institution – and my fellow announcers and I…
(Brian) There’s only the two of us.
(Kramer) Well – you’re taking up two seats.
(Brian) Drop dead.
(Kramer) Says the walking heart attack.
(Brian) I hate you.
(Kramer) The world isn’t McJohnson-centric. I was referring to Kalhoun and Mann. We’ve got one hell of a show for you – and we’re going to kick things off… backstage?
(Brian) Of course – why would we wrestle on a wrestling program?
Pull Apart
With a rapid flash to the backstage area, we cut to a tangled mass of bodies. To the left, a sea of referees attempts to pull one Vincent Yun Chang back towards the catering table… while a flock of agents tries to pull Trevor Cunning back towards the locker rooms.
Blood runs down Cunning’s face from his nostrils – he’s suffered what appears to be yet another broken nose. While his distorted proboscis may be perpetually bespeckled by Gin Blossoms – only a solid right to the bridge can cause this level of trauma.
(Trevor) Let me at that miserable son of a bitch! Sucker punch me? Sucker punch Trevor Cunning?
Chang says nothing – until he releases a primal scream fit for an Olympic weightlifter dropping his colon out of his ass – and breaks free from the officials holding him in place. He knocks James Elbourn to the concrete floor – runs forward, dives off the referee’s back, and lands on the pile of agents, knocking them – and by proxy – Trevor Cunning – to the ground.
(Kramer) Another backstage brawl between Cunning and VYC! I guess history repeats itself.
(Brian) Well, you didn’t learn from the first… or the second… or the third divorce, did you?
The vaunted enemies roll around on the concrete, exchanging ineffective blows. Cunning pushes VYC away and the pair scrambles to their feet. Jason Martin waistlocks VYC, attempting to break the fight up. Instead, he leaves Chang a sitting duck, as Cunning dives and tackles both men into the concessions table.
(Kramer) I bet you hate to see that food go to waste, eh there, Donkey Lips?
(Brian) I’ll awful waffle you, so help me Gord.
Cunning rolls off the pile, covered in coffee and guacamole – and immediately begins stomping VYC. Before he can inflict any significant damage, he’s taken down.
Hard.
The foot really came out of nowhere – darting in from off camera like a lightning bolt in boots. When Cunning’s assailant walks in from off frame – the commotion in the backstage area grinds to a screeching halt.
It’s Kyle Cole. Wearing Zebra Stripes.
Cole commands a certain authority just by his presence – the referees and agents stay back as he approaches Cunning’s prone form. VYC stays down on top of Jason Martin – unsure if he should attack or retreat.
(Cole) Gentlemen… the EGO. HAS. LANDED!
He extends a hand to VYC – who, after looking around, slightly confused – takes the offer. Cole pulls Chang to his feet, and not letting go of the hand, in tight.
(Cole) Now, Mr. Chang… I suggest you head back to your locker room before you end up dreaming - like that miserable sack of sh(beep).
After all… you have a match later tonight.
Chang turns and walks away – before extending his leg backwards and striking Cole right under the chin with a Superkick of his own.
(Kramer) Woah!
(Brian) Do not mess with VYC!
(Kramer) Or your dinner, right?
(Brian) Damn straight! That’s retaliation for the Dreamweaver Deluxe VYC took at Annihilation!
Even the refs are stunned at VYC’s attitude – at his actions. Clearly – VYC is not a man to be trifled with – not after the backstage brawls, after the sneak attacks, after nearly losing the Scrapyards.
(VYC) I don’t play favorites either.
(Brian) Something tells me Cunning versus VYC might be mighty interesting?
(Kramer) Eloquent. Really.
(Brian) This, coming from the guy who used to work with the walking malapropism.
(Kramer) Nothing works with Twitch. Twitch merely is.
(Brian) And Kyle Cole… he’s merely going to rip VYC’s head off.
The Name Game
From intensity to insanity – we cut backstage to the Mexican Toiletries. Señor Bag of Crap sits on a bench – attempt, and failing, to tie his boots, each time unlacing and relacing, only to mis-tie the knot.
(El Asso Wipo) Explain something to me.
El Asso Wipo, meanwhile, is pacing, furiously.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Photosynthesis is the process by which plants, some bacteria, and some protistans use the energy from sunlight to produce sugar, which cellular respiration…
(El Asso Wipo) What the hell are you talking about?
(Señor Bag of Crap) You said to explain something to you – and I chose photosynthesis.
(El Asso Wipo) I wasn’t literally asking you to expound upon a random topic of convers…
(Señor Bag of Crap) Then why did you ask me to explain something to you?
(El Asso Wipo) I wasn’t. I was using that particular phrase to introduce my question.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Then ask your question.
(El Asso Wipo) Explain something to me.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Democracy describes a number of related forms of government. With origins in ancient Greece, Rome, south Asia, and North and South America, democracy has ...
El Asso stops and stares at the Bag man. Señor grows silent.
Beat.
(El Asso Wipo) Knock it off!
(Señor Bag of Crap) Alright… Alright…
Beat.
(El Asso Wipo) Explain something to me.
Beat. Señor quivers, forcing himself to remain silent.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Alright.
(El Asso Wipo) Why do people think we smell?
(Señor Bag of Crap) Maybe because you haven’t washed your mask since 1973.
(El Asso Wipo) I was born in 1978.
(Señor Bag of Crap) That’s what makes this whole thing even more confusing.
Beat.
(El Asso Wipo) I mean, we get beat up by The Goods at Annihilation, and the next thing I know, Twitch is running around backstage, throwing around bars of Irish Spring…
(Señor Bag of Crap) Zest.
(El Asso Wipo) Excuse me?
(Señor Bag of Crap) He was throwing around bars of Zest.
(El Asso Wipo) The particular brand of soap he was distributing to the other individuals in the locker room is of no concern at this particular moment, Señor. What I am, and by association, you should be concerned with is the fact that the entire locker room thinks we have poor hygiene.
(Señor Bag of Crap) I don’t have poor hygiene.
(El Asso Wipo) I know!
(Señor Bag of Crap) Come to think of it, neither do you when you use your prescription deodorant.
(El Asso Wipo) I hate you.
(Señor Bag of Crap) It’s true, isn’t it?
(El Asso Wipo) You know that’s a sensitive subject!
(Señor Bag of Crap) You have been using it, right?
(El Asso Wipo) So what, we’re supposed to smell like daisies when we get out of the ring?
(Señor Bag of Crap) So that’s a no… on using the prescription deodorant?
(El Asso Wipo) You think it’s funny that the entire organization goes around deriding your physical appearance and your personal hygiene?
(Señor Bag of Crap) Well, maybe when they say we stink – they just mean we’re not particularly good wrestlers. Let’s face it – that’s a pretty true statement.
(El Asso Wipo) Then explain the bars of Irish Spring.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Zest.
(El Asso Wipo) I don’t give a damn what the brand of soap was!
(Señor Bag of Crap) Let’s assume for a minute, for argument’s sake – that one of us, and let’s assume, for argument’s sake – that it’s you – wasn’t – for argument’s sake – wearing his prescription deodorant like the doctor told him…
(El Asso Wipo) Would you get over the goddamn deodorant!
(Señor Bag of Crap) It takes two seconds to apply, that’s all that I’m saying.
(El Asso Wipo) Neither you, nor I have a body odor problem. So when Troy Clark says we smell…
(Señor Bag of Crap) The ring announcer was making fun of our hygiene?
(El Asso Wipo) No, that’s Troy Gilmore.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Wait, I thought that dude was fighting Jake Rydell.
(El Asso Wipo) No, that’s Peter Gilmour.
(Señor Bag of Crap) So we are fighting the ring announcer?
(El Asso Wipo) No. Listen.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Listening.
(El Asso Wipo) Troy Gilmore is the ring announcer. Peter Gilmour is fighting Jake Rydell. We are fighting Ken Harris and Troy Clark.
(Señor Bag of Crap) But I thought Zangief was fighting Cougar’s nephew.
(El Asso Wipo) He is.
(Señor Bag of Crap) So why is Cougar’s nephew saying we smell bad?
(El Asso Wipo) He isn’t.
(Señor Bag of Crap) I’m confused.
(El Asso Wipo) Derek Clarke is Cougar’s nephew. Troy Gilmore is the ring announcer. Peter Gilmour is fighting Jake Rydell. We are fighting Ken Harris and Troy Clark. Comprende?
(Señor Bag of Crap) Comprendo.
(El Asso Wipo) So when Troy Clark says we have…
(El Asso Wipo) Que?
(Señor Bag of Crap) Can you go over that one more time?
(El Asso Wipo) How I’ve put up with you for seven years is beyond me.
(Señor Bag of Crap) I do pay half the rent check.
(El Asso Wipo) Ah yes, there it is.
(Señor Bag of Crap) So when’s the rent due this month, anyway?
(El Asso Wipo) The fifteenth, as usu… that’s not the problem!
(Señor Bag of Crap) Which Thomas is Spaz, again?
(El Asso Wipo) Names aren’t the problem either!
(Señor Bag of Crap) So what’s the problem again?
(El Asso Wipo) We stink.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Scent or talent?
(El Asso Wipo) I’m not even sure what we’re talking about any more.
(Señor Bag of Crap) So what do we do?
(El Asso Wipo) We go out there, and we make Troy Clark apologize.
(Señor Bag of Crap) Why? What did the ring announcer ever do to us?
(El Asso Wipo) I’m going to the ring.
El Asso leaves the locker room and Señor Bag of Crap behind. He finishes tying his boots, stands up, and falls flat on his face.
He tied his boots together.
(Kramer) Gord help me. They’re as stupid as your name.
(Brian) Or your face.
The opening chords to the Voodoo Glow Skulls’ Human Piñata hit the public address, signaling the arrival of everyone’s favorite enhancement talent – the Mexican Toiletries. El Asso Wipo jogs out – and receives the customary “1st wrestler” pop.
Señor Bag of Crap follows – not wearing boots. The Toiletries hit the ring, and Human Piñata gives way to Tom Waits’ “Big in Japan.”
Ken Harris and Troy Clark hit the entrance ramp – with Ken Harris drawing a sizable reaction from his time with SHOOT Project. Tonight, Harris is all business – Clark all pleasure – strutting while Ken looks on disapprovingly.
The Mexican Toiletries (El Asso Wipo and Señor Bag of Crap) vs. Ken Harris and Troy Clark
When the NAFW’s newest Odd Couple hit the ring – it’s on like the former Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan.
Harris and Clark dominate – Harris taking his opponents apart with precision – while Clark attempts to add a little flair and a little panache. His arrogance gets the best of him, allowing the Toiletries to gain a modicum of offense off of a hot tag. Clark mocks El Asso’s scent – and takes a Euro-Mexican Uppercut for his troubles and a pair of dropkicks.
Finally, Clark makes the tag to Harris, who, looking back at Clark disapprovingly – shows him how it’s done. He takes El Asso down with a spinebuster, and then floors Señor with an implant DDT.
Talent and arrogance still win out over heart and ineptitude every time – a pair of Doomsday Devices and The Most Devestatingist Tag Team Move in the History of Time and All its Children finish.
Filler
(Brian) So tell me, Kramer – did your now ex-wife get half of your toupee, too? You’re looking a little thin up there?
(Kramer) I bet no one has ever said that you’re looking thin anywhere?
(Brian) I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
(Kramer) When you’re that size, McJohnson – you walk into everything.
(Brian) I should’ve kept that sandwich and sent Priestly out here for the abuse.
A Night to Dismember
We are in the back of Madison Sqaure Garden as Redemption is just moments away. Cut to Peter Gilmour’s locker room where Peter is lacing up his boots as he faces Jake Rydell. Peter is in his ring clothes, which consists of black boots and black shorts. His customary black cloaked jacket with hood is sitting on the couch beside him. He finishes lacing up his boot and stands up to stretch out his neck and arms. Peter seems very confident that he will be victorious tonight. A knock is then heard on the door.
(Peter) Come in!
In walks Peter’s long time friend and mentor Max Masterson wearing a black shirt and pants.
(Peter) Hey, you made it! How was your flight?
(Max) A little bumpy, but it went well. Are you ready for your match tonight with young Jake Rydell?
(Peter) I am Max. Tonight is a night of Redemption. Ironic that the name of this Pay Per View is REDEMPTION as well? Anyways, I am very focused on beating Jake Rydell tonight and showing him that he should of never messed with the Xtreme Icon Peter Gilmour. Tonight, Jake Rydell gets taken to the Xtreme. He will be beaten, bloodied and battered so bad, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. Tonight, is the night that young Jake Rydell will never forget.
Max looks at Peter and rubs his chin.
(Max) Very good Peter. BUT, you forgot one thing.
(Peter) What’s that old friend?
Another knock is heard on the door. In comes Ashley Marie, Peter’s fiancé wearing a stunning red miniskirt and red shoes. Peter’s jaw drops to the floor as Max just admires Ashley’s beauty.
(Ashley) Hey baby. What's the matter? You look surprised to see me.
(Peter) Well, I.. I never expected you to be here.
(Ashley) Well I did have to run back to Rome to check up on the apartment you know. Got to pay the rent somehow right? Anyways, I’m here to cheer you on tonight. Shall we go to the ring?
(Peter) Not tonight baby. Max and I have been talking and I think it’s best that you stay back here. I don’t need any distractions tonight.
(Ashley) But baby I’ve always been by your side for your matches and I’ve never been a distraction to you.
Peter begins to laugh. Max just looks at Peter.
(Peter) That’s a hoot. You got me DQ’d so many times I’ve lost count. Baby, I know this is our homecoming and the fans want to see their hometown couple walk down that aisle. But tonight, I need you to stay here.
Ashley puts her head down and begins to cry a little. Peter rolls his eyes and sighs. Max, however puts his arms around Ashley.
(Max) Have no fear young Ashley. We have a front row seat for you to watch Peter’s match. But I strongly advise you not to interfere in his match. This is something Peter must do on his own.
(Ashley) But aren’t you going down to the ring with him?
(Max) I am. But I’m only going down there to give instructions to Peter. You see over the last few weeks, I have been training Peter to become the champion that he once was and to control his anger in the ring. So please don’t take this as me becoming Peter’s manager because I am not. I am just teaching Peter that all this anger he has inside has to be contained and he has to unleash it on his opponents and not others like yourself. Do you understand what I’m saying Ashley?
Ashley nods her head and wipes away the tears from her face. She then looks at Peter.
(Ashley) Good luck tonight baby. I will be right there watching you.
Ashley gives Peter a kiss on the cheek as she leaves the room. Max then gets Peter’s cloaked jacket and stands next to him.
(Max) She is a great woman Peter. Do not let her go.
(Peter) I won’t Max. Ashley is going to be my wife someday and the mother to my kids.
(Max) Come, let us get ready for your match.
Peter puts on his jacket and looks at Max with a deep stare.
(Peter) Tonight, Jake Rydell will have a night to REMEMBER..
Peter and Max leave the locker room and head down the hallway as the scene fades out.
(Kramer) There’s a lot at stake, even on the pre-show!
(Brian) Did you just say steak and pizza?
Rimshot.
(Kramer) Yes, folks… we went there.
Zangief vs. Derek Clarke
The Russian National Anthem begins playing over the public address – signaling the arrival of the Moscow Maniac, the Bear Fighter from Belarusk – Zangief.
Only problem is… Zangief ain’t coming.
(Brian) Where the hell is Zangief? What… did Player two just press start or something?
(Kramer) I’d be surprised if Zangief can even walk after the beating the Reaper laid down upon him.
(Brian) Seriously. That guy’s kind of a dick. Kind of like you.
Zangief vs. Derek Clarke
We restart the Russian National Anthem – and now Zangief arrives – being pushed to ringside in a wheelchair by X-Cold.
(Brian) He still has a job here?
(Kramer) Why don’t you go offer him a sandwich – take his spot on the roster? Hell, the exercise’d do you good.
(Brian) I’m getting sick and tired of the fat jokes, Kramer.
(Kramer) But apparently not of bologna.
The pair reaches the ring, and X-Cold tosses Zangief’s arm over his shoulder. He helps Zangief into the ring and hands the Russian Bear a microphone.
(Zangief) Zangief’s doctors tell Zangief to no fight this evening. Zangief explain to doctors that Zangief hate men named Derek ever since large, African gentleman named Derek took Zangief’s sisters virginity in the back of Zangief’s Ford Focus.
(Kramer) That’s just uncalled for.
(Brian) Wow.
(Kramer) I know.
(Brian) Zangief drives a Ford Focus? I can’t even fit in the backseat of one of those.
(Zangief) So even if Doctors want Zangief no fight – Zangief fight this Derek with the strength of THOUSAND COMMUNIST BEAR!
COME DEREK! COME TASTE ZANGIEF’S ENGORGED FURY!
(Brian) That can’t taste good.
(Kramer) And you’ll eat anything.
Cue “Driven” by Sevendust and NAFW Legacy Derek Clarke. Clarke too has a microphone and a chip on his shoulder.
(Derek) You know what? I’m sick of this shit.
(Kramer) We’re sorry about that folks.
Derek starts walking down the ramp – sans music – to stunned silence. Now in the ring – he starts looking Zangief up and down. The Russian Bear can barely stand – his right knee heavily bandaged from the Reaper’s needlessly violent attack.
(Derek) So this is how it’s going to be? Well then – Congratu-fucking-lations, Zangief!
(Brian) Uhh…
(Kramer) Folks, in the back we’ve got…
(Brian) Don’t even think of cutting away, you pansy! This could get good!
(Derek) I quit. You win.
(Brian) Never mind – you can cut away.
Clarke drops the mic and leaves the ring. The Russian National Anthem begins playing – leaving Zangief and X-Cold to dance around the ring like Larry and Balki on Perfect Strangers.
Yes, they’re doing the dance of joy.
Derek Clarke stops at the top of the ramp, and when approached by a cameraman, grabs the camera and knocks him on his ass with a quick shove before heading back through the curtains.
(Kramer) Did Derek Clarke just forfeit?
(Brian) I think the better question is… why?
From the sounds of stammering idiot announcers and confused arena patrons comes the glorious sound of pure, unadulterated rock.
Q: How Do You Spell Bad Ass?
(Kramer) I think an even better question, at this juncture at least, is why the hell the lights are dimming?
(Brian) Have you ever rocked beneath bright lights, Kramer? No. The only place to Rock and Roll… is in the dark.
The opening chords of AC/DC’s “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)” quickly fade into the rousing chorus – Angus Young’s bad ass vocals giving way to two of the greatest men who have ever lived in the history of modern living.
Greater than Ghandhi.
More Hardcore than Harry S. Truman.
Bigger Bad Asses than Jesus F’n Christ himself.
(Brian) IT’S REX F’N MICHAELS!
(Kramer) The Southern Gentleman himself has returned to the NAFW!
(Brian) Wait, why are we so excited?
(Kramer) It’s just something I do – you know, adds to the viewing experience for those who have purchased / are about to purchase the PPV.
(Brian) So who’s Rex Michaels?
Yes’m Sir… you bettah believe that the Sultan of Southern Hospitality, the Master of the Mason Dixon, Mister Rex Michaels has arrived. He steps out on to the stage, acoustic guitar in hand – clad in the most bitching pair of leather pants one has ever laid their eyes on.
Even if you never desired to wear a pair of leather pants, be it for style or comfort or just because you think leather pants make a man look a little gay – even you, sir… you will look at these pants, with the tassels and intricate etch work – and you sir, will wish you were wearing those pants.
To Mister Michaels’ right – wearing denim cutoff shorts, chaps, and a vest comprised of the American Flag on the right, and the Confederate Flag on the left – is the Rajah of Rock and Roll, the Demi-God of Guitar Solos – Scott F’n Rocker.
An intricate jam session takes place atop the stage, with fire and pyro exploding in such a gratuitous fashion – the NAFW accountants are weeping in angst. Even the most ostentatious wrestler on the rosters looks at this needless display and says: what a waste… but oh, so, Bad Ass.
(Kramer) Have you seen my Sudoku?
(Brian) Are you not moved by the penultimate power of rock?
(Kramer) Penultimate?
(Brian) Yeah, boobs are the highest power. And maybe soft shell tacos. And ham.
(Kramer) No, I’m not moved by the power of rock. Rocker and Rex have done nothing besides show up to events, asking to be put on the main roster. Neither one of these two clowns has earned a spot.
(Brian) But they ROCK SO HARD MY FILLINGS HAVE FALLEN OUT OF MY TEETH AND DOWN THE BACK OF MY THROAT!
(Kramer) Just what you need: more empty calories.
Rex n’ Rocker head down the ramp, amidst the smoke and the fury – and quickly enter the ring where X-Cold and Zangief are standing and waiting, their celebratory dance interrupted by the Bambinos of Bad Ass.
Walt Mason, still in the ring, having taken Derek Clarke’s forfeiture, signals… he signals for the bell?
(Kramer) And apparently – we have a match.
(Brian) Zangief and X-Cold are no match for The Rock n’ Rex Express!
(Kramer) Zangief can barely stand.
(Brian) The power of Rock has brought him to his knees!
(Kramer) It happened to my ex-wife. It’s what I get for letting her go back stage at a Ted Nugent concert.
(Brian) Cuckolded by the Nuge. Ouch.
XyZ (X-Cold and Zangief) vs. The Rock 'n' Rex Express (Scott Rocker and Rex Michaels)
Rocker rushes across the ring, knocking the injured Zangief off of the apron with a running knee, while Rex F’n Michaels spears X-Cold back into a neutral corner. He starts delivering lariat after lariat – stopping only when the crowd reaches ten.
He then irish-whips X-Cold across the ring to the opposite buckle, gives a huge rebel yell, and hits a running Yakuza Kick that he calls… well, the Rebel Yell.
Tag to Rocker.
Rocker leaps over the top rope, leaps high into the air, and lands with a leg drop across the back of X-Cold’s neck. Cover for two.
Zangief climbs back onto the apron.
Scott hits a scoop and a slam, places his foot on X-Cold’s chest, and proceeds to play some air guitar. That gets two – and as Scott lifts his pick hand to the air, ready to bring it down to strum – he falls, dropping the FIST OF ROCK ITSELF onto X-Cold’s face. He covers for two.
X-Cold battles back to his feet – launching right hands into Rocker’s gut. He launches off the ropes – only to be scooped up and taken down with a discus punch and a standing dropkick.
X-Cold crawls to the corner – Rocker squares himself
“BADDEST! ASS! EVER!” he screams, launching himself into the corner with a running, rolling senton. He misses.
Hot tag Zangief – equally hot tag to Rex.
Zangief stumbles over, hopping on his one good leg. Rex just looks and laughs, only to be taken to the mat with a Spinning Clothesline. Zangief pounces, pulling Rex into position for the Spinning Pile Driver, but a shot to the knee frees the Southern Gentleman – double leg takedown brings Zangief to the mat – and the Stretch Plum – known to NAFW fans as the Southern Discomfort - quickly brings about the submission for the Rock n’ Rex Express.
A: R. O. C. K. N. R. E. X.
(Kramer) I hate to say it – but that was kind of impressive.
(Brian) Yeah – Rocker didn’t get crushed like a gnat.
Rocker heads to the outside to get their guitars while Rex grabs a microphone.
(Rex) Boy howdy did that feel good!
Now, good ‘ol Rex can just here thuh boys in thuh back laughin’ already.
“Y’all only beat ‘ol X, y, Z. Y’all will never amountuh nuthin’ in the gran’ scheme uh things!
Y’all were failures as singles rasslers – what makes y’all thing you can be a successful tag team?
(Scott) Two Words: We’re Bad Ass.
(Rex) Them’s three words.
(Scott) Three Words: We’re Bad Ass.
(Rex) The greatest Rockers who ever lived – They done rocked hard and they done rocked long – they done got drunk and nailed broads with big hair that done made poor life decisions and they done had illegitimate children – and they did it as a band – as a unit – as a team.
(Scott) I ain’t into that, Rex.
(Rex) I’m speakin’ in met tuh fours.
(Scott) When the Gods of Rock released solo albums – they became but mere mortals! The true power of rock lies in the band – and in this tag team. Alone – we were only bad, and only an ass.
(Rex) Together – as the Rock n’ Rex Express – we’re the most bad ass mother effers who ever lived. And if you don’t believe that…
The pair raise their guitars, and circle X-Cold, who’s still tending to Zangief.
(Scott) We. Will. Rock You.
They swing their guitars, catching X-Cold’s skull between them like one of those silver ball perpetual motion doo-hickeys that business men keep on their desks. (Ed: and the award for world’s worst metaphor goes to…)
As AC/DC’s “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)” hits the public address – Scott and Rex – they ROCK OUT!
Backstage – Things Happen. Or Do They? We Might Never Know.
(Kramer) Did what they said make actual sense?
(Brian) Sucks as singles – tops as teams – they’re like the superband of Tag Team Wrestling – the Velvet Revolver of the Squared Circle.
(Kramer) Well – backstage we’ve got…
I want a fight. I want VYC and I want him now.
(Brian) Ladies and Gentlemen – Trevor Cunning has joined us at the announce position – Trevor would you please, take a sea…
(Trevor) Stuff a meatball in it, Papa Gino.
Trevor’s got something he needs to get off of his chest.
The cameras now on the announce position – we can see that Cunning has again had his nose broken. Bits of bloody cotton protrude from his proboscis as if it were his nostril’s time of the month. Cunning hops up on the announce table – microphone in hand.
(Trevor) Listen up, meat puppets – Trevor’s about to pour some wisdom – one fifty one proof – right down your gullets – until you’re so goddamn smart you vomit my teachings back out.
Trevor doesn’t believe in redemption – that people can find themselves and change. Trevor doesn’t believe in karma – that there’s some cosmic bean counter putting pluses and minuses in one column or another to ensure that good and evil always wind up even in the grand scheme of things.
Trevor doesn’t believe in a higher power. Trevor doesn’t believe in fate – in predestination and destiny.
Trevor Cunning believes in one thing, and one thing only: himself.
So Mistah Vee, Why, See – you’re pissed I trashed the Scrapyards? Well then – you shouldn’t have broken my goddamn nose!
(Kramer) You started the fight, Cunning.
(Trevor) Are you freakin’ kidding me, Kramer? You – of all people – are interrupting my time?
I – Trevor Cunning – did not start a goddamn thing! When Mister Vee Why See taped his gonads to his leg, so he could pull his panties and his skirt on, so he could come down to the arena and even attempt to bask in my presence – that’s when this started.
He’s a washed up, tranny, freak – a pathetic excuse for a man and for a wrestler.
Trevor Cunning started this? Kramer, Trevor should slap you so hard that you go sterile.
Vee Why Cee’s presence – his birth, breath and existences alone started this war.
And in thirty minutes – I’m going to end it – permanently.
(Kramer) Because I’m sure Kyle Cole is going to…
With one fluid motion, the fluid in question being Jack Daniels – Cunning jerks down and grabs Kramer by his tie – and pulls him to a standing position. Now on his knees on the desk, Cunning is broken nose to bulbous nose with the NAFW Institution.
(Trevor) Why did you have to go and bring up Cole? Referee or not – quite frankly it doesn’t matter to Trevor – if Kyle Cole even contemplates becoming involved tonight – even dreams of weaving another deluxe my way… then I’ll just line him up and knock him back – just like I do, just like Trevor does to everyone else who deigns to piss him off.
Just. Like. You.
Cunning pulls a fist back, causing Kramer to instinctively cower. Instead of knocking him on his ass – Cunning simply pulls his bottle of Jack out of his back pocket – and dumps the contents on Kramer’s head – laughing hysterically the entire time.
(Trevor) Good chat. I’ll see you out there.
With that – Cunning hops off the table and heads to the back
(Brian) I haven’t seen you reek of booze since the night your ex-wife told you that she wanted a divorce, Kramer!
(Kramer) At least I’ve had sex.
(Brian) I’ll have you know for a fact…
(Kramer) It doesn’t count if it’s over AIM.
(Brian) I’ll have you know for a fact…
(Kramer) Or when you pay a girl to get naked on a webcam.
(Brian) Damnit.
(Kramer) Cunning’s a miserable son of a…
(Brian) He’ll come back out here.
(Kramer) I hope he does… when VYC and Kyle Cole are out here to beat his ass.
(Brian) That’s what I thought.
(Kramer) When did Jake Rydell get to the ring?
(Brian) Somewhere in between the ring crew cleaning up the guitar shards and you wetting yourself.
(Kramer) That’s whisky.
(Brian) I know what whisky smells like and that…
(Kramer) You’ve never had a drink, before in your life.
(Brian) Look, unless Cunning peed in that bottle – and unless he pees Jack Daniels…
(Kramer) Which is entirely possible.
(Brian) So you’re saying, R. Kramer, that you’d rather be urinated on than wet yourself?
(Kramer) I don’t like where this is going – now I know what it feels like to be a Little Debby cake once you’ve opened the wrapper.
(Brian) Well – Rydell has a lot to answer to – Gilmour wants his ass and wants it now.
(Kramer) No wonder he left Ashley Marie behind.
(Brian) You didn’t.
(Kramer) Had to.
The lights in the arena go out and then a violent explosion of fire comes from the ramp. The beginning drum beat from the song PAINKILLER by Judas Priest starts to kick in. The lights on the NAFW-tron start to flicker on and off, then another explosion of fire is heard as the guitar riif begins. As the main vocals start up, Peter Gilmour comes out in his traditional black cloaked jacket, with hood covering his face. He flashes an "X" symbol as red pyro goes off in the same manner. He goes to the ring ignoring the boos and chants from the crowd. Peter gets in the ring normally and heads to the center of the ring. He looks down as the lights dim a bit. Peter rips his hood off as fire emits from the turnbuckles – before giving a sadistically evil grin to the crowd.
Jake Rydell vs. Peter Gilmour
Look – let’s face it. No one really reads this match summaries anyway. And as far as we can tell – Jake Rydell hasn’t even made a single attempt to make his presence felt.
Pete on the other hand has been working his ass off – even though he’s got a whopping two moves in his profile – leaving me without much in mind as to Gilmour’s strategy or methodology – I owe him at least something.The pre-show’s hit about twenty-one pages in Word – single spaced – and we still have a ton to do on the main program – so I’ll keep this quick.
Rydell attacks Gilmour while he’s on the top rope – but his attacks barely do any damage. Irish-Whip is reversed into a flying shoulder tackle. Gilmour hits a pair of rights, a snap suplex, a backbreaker, and a running boot, all in that order. Michinoku Driver gets two.
Gilmour hits the Painkiller – pulls Rydell up at two. He hits a second – screaming about their tag title loss – pulls him up at two again. After a third Painkiller – Referee James Elbourn forces Gilmour back – and goes to check on Rydell.
He’s out cold.
Gilmour wins by Knock Out.
(Kramer) See what happens when you leave the woman behind!
(Brian) Thing coming from a bitter, cuckolded divorcee.
(Kramer) Better that than an overweight, obnoxious, never gonna get laid, virgin.
(Brian) At least I take home my entire paycheck.
(Kramer) You’re an intern. You don’t get paid.
(Brian) Well. Shit.
(Kramer) Well… thanks for watching, everyone. We’re about to kick it over to JB and… Kalhoun.
(Brian) You say virgin like it’s a bad thing.
(Kramer) Please, order the main show – and write to the NAFW to keep Brian McJohnson from ever sitting with me, ever again.
(Brian) And to think, like your ex-wife, I wasted part of my youth with you.
(Kramer) I’m Kramer – see you at REDEMPTION!
After the standard pre-PPV screens, including a warning from the FBI and Interpol not to make illegal reproductions of this show, a visual of a cloudy sky blue sky comes onto the screen. The opening notes of Rise Against's "Prayer of the Refugee" begin to play as the camera pans down to a desert floor, which quickly out of no where, engulfs the dirt and the sky, leading us to the lyrics.
Warm yourself by the fire, son,
And the morning will come soon.
I’ll tell you stories of a better time,
In a place that we once knew.
This video begins simply with shots of the NAFW superstars involved with this PPV running their mouths. The Reaper and Mike Stryker have a heated in ring confrontation, Keith Owens has his Grand Slam Championship interview, Essex speaks for Hush, then Trevor Cunning verbally berates VYC at ringside and intuerrupts Kyle Cole's return.
Before we packed our bags
And left all this behind us in the dust,
We had a place that we could call home,
And a life no one could touch.
This continues with Sebastian Hawke and his father cutting an interview backstage, Collier running his big mouth on the mic, Snake tries to play mind games with Andy D, Wilson lays out the challenge for Snake, Andy D, and Crazy Boy in the ring, Charles Johnson issues his challenge to purchase the X-Treme title, and Castleberry accepts, with Spaz and the Goods finally laying it on the line against Mike Lane and the Old School Empire!
Don’t hold me up now,
I can stand my own ground,
I don’t need your help now,
You won't let me down, down, down!
As tempo of the song picks up, so does the action in this video. In fact, that's all we get - action shot. Mike Lane Shadow Kicks Spaz, The Goods make their presence felt, Mike Castleberry rolls up Charles Johnson and takes off with his money, Andy D hits the Dragon Bite on Snake while Crazy Boy gets cracked over the head and loses to Wilson, and finally Ashley Collier gives multiple people stiff shots to the face with his brass knuckles, including Sebastian Hawke's father.
Don’t hold me up now,
I can stand my own ground,
I don’t need your help now,
You will let me down, down, down!
Continuing in reverse order of how we were introduced to these feuds on this video, the action continues with Cunning slapping VYC, Cunning putting Kyle Cole through a table, Kyle Cole giving both VYC and Cunning Dreamweaver Deluxes, and finally VYC answering with a superkick of his own before cutting to Hush snapping Keith Owens' Grand Slam Championship belt into two, putting Keith Owens through the announce table, and finally slamming Melissa Hayes off the stage! Finally we get to the shots of Reaper costing Stryker the Atlantic title, Stryker destroying Reaper and his car, and finally the two just beating the holy hell out of each other.
Down!
And with that final word, and the slow down of the song, we end on the visual of The Reaper being set on fire with Mike Stryker standing in the ring. Fade in to the Redemption: Salvation By Fire logo.
Cue the huge boom of the indoor pyrotechnics display as we continue to loop the fast paced chorus of "Prayer of the Refugee."
BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
The cameras pan around the arena briefly before they cut to the ringside announcer’s table, where your announcers JB Mann and Tom “The Bear” Kalhoun are standing by.
(JB) Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Redemption: Salvation by Fire, live from the world's most famous arena Madison Square Garden right here in New York City! I am JB Mann and next to me is my broadcast partner, like always, Tom Kalhoun!
(Tom) If I said it was a pleasure to be here, I'd be lying Mannversuswild!
(JB) I wouldn't expect anything less from you Bear.
(Tom) If you're ManversusWild and I'm a Bear... Who would win in a fight?
(JB) Are we really going to go down that road tonight? Because we've got a loaded card for you including Charles Johnson attempting to nab the X-Treme Championship from Mike Castleberry, Trevor Cunning takes on VYC with SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE Kyle Cole, that piece of sporting equiptment Wilson "defends" the Atlantic Championship against Snake, Crazy Boy, AND Andy D in, what must be a first in wrestling, a SNAKES ON A CAGE match!
(Tom) MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON A MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!
(JB) But that's not all, as Sebastian Hawke faces the Born Warrior Ashley Collier in a grudge match, Keith Owens looks to bury Hush alive, Spaz and The Goods look to settle their score after Mike Lane turned on his friend and sided with the Old School Empire...
(Tom) SHADOOOWWW KIIICKKKKK!
The World's Most Famous Gospel Straight From NJ
(JB) And of course this is capped off by our main event for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship as the Big City Hitman...
(Tom) Big City Champion to you after tonight, Mann-lick.
(JB) Wasn't he the Big City Pyromaniac a few weeks ago?
(Tom) Hey, a man's allowed to change his opinion. Shut up.
(JB) Well, he'll be going one on one with...
Right about here is where the lights go out in the World's Most Famous Arena. Only lightbulbs are visible flashing as a few moments of silence allow everyone to hear the sounds of themselves screaming right before we hear a rather familiar, deep voice utter the words...
(Freddy) Welcome to my nightmare.
## Uh-oh... ##
The sound of drums being beaten from the movie Ali are heard next as we hear Will Smith's voice boom...
THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
More drums accompany the beat as we hear again...
THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
The NAFWtron starts to flash grainy images of the final sequence of the No Holds Barred match from Death Wish where Aarons defeated Cunning for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. The fans start to work themselves into a frenzy as we hear the deep bass laced beat of "The Champ Is Here" by Jadakiss. Flashing crimson and gold lights have the packed house on its feet as dry fog starts to emanate from the entranceway.
(JB) Looks like we're going to get a few words from our reigning champion.
(Tom) Could he be any more self-serving to have this type of introduction? Trevor Cunning wasn't this self-serving or egotistical.
(JB) Could your man-love of Trevor be any more repulsing?
(Tom) Shut your hole, Man-nut.
As Jada starts rapping the first verse, The Reaper emerges from the entranceway clad in a black trench coat, complete with his bloody Lion's head shirt and black sweats with the Lion Athletic emblem on the sides. He has his Lendo Stick in his right hand and his Foundation Heavyweight Championship on his left shoulder sitting rather comfortably as he smiles, scanning the crowd just nodding his head to the music as he starts down the aisle. He's walking with confidence, as a man of his stature does because he's The Reaper and oh yeah, he's the champ. As he reaches the aisle, he flings the stick and slides in under the bottom rope, with his title clinging to his shoulder as he gets up quickly collecting himself as he takes in the cheers yet as he steps inside, his look changes slightly. It goes from one of confidence to a look of a serious, determined individual. He knows he's in hostile territory, but he's smiling because he knows something that Mike doesn't know...yet. He pulls a microphone out of his pocket as the fans chant his name, half of them booing in support of Mike Stryker.
(The Reaper) Ya know, it feels great being able to not just headline my first ever NAFW pay per view as Foundation Heavyweight Champion, but to do so right here in the World's Most Famous Arena...Madison. Square. Garden.
Big time cheap pop, as Aarons simply nods his head rather solemnly.
(The Reaper) I mean, I saw Mike here a few days ago and I couldn't help but notice that he felt obligated to run off all the famous moments that this place has seen. All of the title victories it has been privvied to witnessing. From 1972 and Willis Reed limping out as the Knicks beat the Lakers. That was a great moment in Knicks history...
Another huge roar as Aarons points up at that banner.
(The Reaper) Then there's one I was actually ALIVE for. 1994. I remember I was Student Council President of my 8th grade class and boom. Rangers not only knock off the Devils in the Eastern Conference Finals in dramatic fashion, they win the Stanley Cup.
Another big time pop by the fans, as Aarons points to that banner and then points to Mark's retired jersey.
(The Reaper) But ya know Mike, all those memorable moments you brought up have one thing in common. There's one common theme with all of what you said.
I think right about here is where the mood's about to change as a famous New Yorker once said...
(The Reaper) It's all a memory. 1972, 1994, all dates of times past. Teams past. Has beens that have not been in how long? Then there's you Mike. Harkening on times that were cause you much like them, have nothing to stand on NOW.
The crowd's starting to turn, not liking how Aarons is dumping on history, their teams or Stryker.
(The Reaper) Because you see Mike, you, much like most of these New Yorkers cling to the past because you both see what reality holds for you. A rather bleak present and a future that's not looking too great either. You talk about Oblivion and how you had your 'Hogan' moment. Well guess what? I hate Hogan. I hate that red and yellow wearing pansy with a passion and guess what? When I think of him, I don't think of him dropping a leg on somebody that was supposed to be the wrestling equivalent of some Iran baddie. I saw someone who was on the verge of putting the game on the map...then crushing a promotion because he had to be the man again. Your grand ‘Hogan’ moment consisted of you being a double champion and yet, you’ve still never had your Foundation Heavyweight Championship moment.
Beat.
(The Reaper) You’ve yet to have your…Reaper Moment.
Short pause, as the fans give him heat for that one.
(The Reaper) You talk about how long you've waited and all throughout the week, I was hoping you'd be smart enough to catch the point behind my sermons to you...but I see you much like most of these yokels are kind of slow on the draw. Which figures, since most of New York is chocked full of morons moving a mile a minute going nowhere FAST.
Oh yeah, that draws massive heat.
(The Reaper) You see Mikey, I've sat back listening and I've been laughing...until now. Because you see, tonight, it is game time. Tonight I show you why I'm the Foundation Heavyweight Champion and you're just about to add another few hundred days or so onto that FHC title less streak of yours. You see, just like another Mike I addressed, you couldn't seem to answer the 'if you're so hot, how come you weren't the person chosen to face Cunning first' question. And let's be perfectly clear on something, you could've dropped that Hush thing at any time. You could've done what you did now. Let someone hold that title while you chase something bigger, but NOOOOOO. You just had to get your belt back. You just had to get your 15 pounds of tin plus flesh to boot. And you did. And while you did that, you're damned right I went after the big drunken fish and gutted him. Oh yeah, since you were probably out all night and didn't catch the end of Death Wish, let me repeat something I said since you definitely didn't hear it, comprehend it or both...go ahead and play that beautiful bean footage.
We cut to the NAFWtron where we get a flashback to the June pay per view. We cut to Lorenzo and Leonard speaking in the locker room prior to Three Wishes.
(Big Daddy) So how are we gonna do this? I mean, I’ve got no problem getting a Wish because I know how much you want to be Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
(The Reaper) Nah man, if it comes down to it and I can’t grab it, you take it. So long as that belt leaves with either of us, it’s all great. We can’t let those Two F(bleep)ed Klowns get the whole ball of wax.
It cuts out there, as we see Aarons standing in the middle of the ring leaning back with a rather curious look on his face.
(The Reaper) Now…maybe he didn’t get that part so let me try doing this again. Roll that footage. Maybe this will jog that memory bank of yours…
We cut to the very end of Death Wish, specifically where Aarons is in the ring barely able to hold his head up and for all intents and purposes, is barely able to stand period.
(The Reaper) When Zo and I talked about tonight – we made plans for every possible outcome – what would happen if we lost, if we only managed to grab a Wish – and if we truly had a shot at those titles.
Zo and I agreed on one thing above all else: Trevor Cunning, you overrated, arrogant junkie – you don’t deserve to leave the arena the Foundation Heavyweight Champion!
We cut back to Aarons in the middle of the ring, who’s now starting to seethe as he shakes his head from side to side.
(The Reaper) You see Mikey, even with you saying a lot, you still manage to prove my point marvelously. I wasn’t content with just walking out of there with a Wish to be used later, because unlike the other two doofs who got wishes that night, Zo and I knew what we wanted and we got it. Keith and Trevor aren’t going to agree on how to use that wish, ole Spazzy and Mike Lane are gonna fight each other for the other wish tonight. So if you want to go all technical about it, we were the big winners in Three Wishes. But let’s get back to tonight and you, Mike.
Quick pause.
(The Reaper) You see Big City M.A.S.H. Guy, I can’t help the fact that much like Patrick Ewing, you were too fragile to compete for the big prize.
Huge heat. Especially when some of those fans think back to the 1999 Finals.
(The Reaper) I can’t help the fact that you weren’t able to tough it out like I did at Death Wish, after a GRUELING Three Wishes match and say ‘ya know what? I’ve waited one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days for this…I’m done waiting. I’m going to take the fight to Cunning until Buchanan smartens up and gives me my long awaited title shot’. Nope. You, typical New Yorker that you are talked your talk and walked something totally different. And yeah, I believe that you weren’t going to make a human Molotov Cocktail out of me., because that would’ve required you showing something you hadn’t shown up until this point.
Beat.
(The Reaper) Balls, bitch.
This gets a split reaction, a big time pop from those who are Reaper loyalists, mega heat from the crowd that’s rooting for Stryker.
(The Reaper) And ultimately, that’s what this comes down to. Tonight, that’s what I’m going to show you I have in spades. Tonight, inside of this ring, I will prove to you that what I say is to be taken as if it came from the Lord Almighty Himself. For in this ring tonight, you will bow to me as if I were God. Tonight, I will make up for lost time by putting you down like the pathetic mutt that you are. Let me explain something else to you that you seem to have forgotten. Winning umpteen Intercontinental Championship matches doesn’t make you BIG TIME. It makes you capable of winning a secondary title again and again.
Aarons holds his title up high as he slowly turns facing everyone, showing off his prize as his voice goes deeper and just a little higher.
(The Reaper) THIS is what makes you big time. THIS is what separates the damn great from the great damned. You’re a greatly damned individual Mike who’s too stupid to see it. You were in over your head the first time you went head up with Quiet, thinking that you could take him on your ‘big time’ resume alone. I see history repeating itself here. I will do to you what the Nets have done to the Knicks pretty much since the start of this decade. I will own your ass. I will beat you down, I will hurt you and at the end of the night, in front of your 20,000 fans and people you paid to be your friend…
Another loud heel pop, mixed in with a laugh from the fans who are here to cheer for Aarons.
(The Reaper) You’ll see why everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve held World Title gold. You’ll see why no matter how different the letter arrangement might be, the result’s almost always the same. I win World Title gold, everyone else gets to fight for second and third place behind me. You’re right, I will get a firsthand education on the man they call the Big City Hitman tonight. And I’m fairly certain that when class is over, you’ll be sitting in the corner with the dunce cap on your head while I’m raising the Foundation Heavyweight Championship over mine. The Gospel has been spoken, you will feel the Wrath of the champion tonight.
Aarons drops the mic and strikes his trademark pose as “The Champ Is Here” by Jadakiss blares over the loudspeakers to a rather mixed reaction with more boos being heard over the cheers.
(JB) That was a very passionate message by the champion prior to his first title defense.
(Tom) Ya know, I’m changing my vote. I’m all Aarons tonight. I mean, if he brings what he brought against Zangief tonight to Stryker, I’ll get to see Stryker carried out on a stretcher. That’ll be great.
(JB) Well, Aarons appears to be incredibly focused like never before as he heads into his first ever title defense in Stryker’s backyard.
(Tom) Like he said, Stryker’s ripe for a disappointing night. Aarons all the way.
(JB) Pick one right now.
(Tom) Aarons. No…Stryker. Shut up Mann-wheel.
Charles Johnson vs. Mike Castleberry (XT)
X-Treme Rules
X-Treme Championship
(JB) We saw Charles Johnson try to purchase the X-Treme title from Castleberry, and Castleberry strangely accepted the offer but double crossed Johnson and won the title match and took the money.
(Tom) If I had to guess, I’d say Charles Johnson used his cunning to force Castleberry’s hand in the first place as his bank account mysteriously went empty before he accepted the challenge.
The lights cut out in the arena, bathing it in darkness, the only lighting is from a few camera flashes. Suddenly, a guitar riff pierces the air over the PA, blue lights flashing at the entryway, revealing Castleberry standing, his arms foled, staring at the ring, a look of fierce determination on his face. The crowd cheers as he stands, surveying his surroundings.
Its twilight and I wake up hot
My body’s soaked in a cold, cold sweat
I reenact the lurid scenes
And clawed engravings in my head
The first verse of Megadeth's "Die Dead Enough" plays, as Castleberry starts his march down to the ring as the chorus picks up.
Oh, I can’t punch hard enough (and I run)
I can’t kick high enough (and I run)
I can’t shoot straight enough (and I run)
I can’t hold on enough (and I run)
Oh, I can’t stay down enough (and I run)
I can’t take pain enough (and I run)
I can’t bleed fast enough
I can’t die dead enough
Castleberry stands in front of the ring, stretching a bit, crackling his knuckles, then his neck, making sure everything is lose.
The air is thick, but the oxygen’s thin
My heart is beating like a drum, boom!
And ice is flowing through my veins
Explosives on my lips and in my lungs
He hops into the ring, as the lights go back on in the arena, waiting is his corner for the opening bell, the chrorus playing again, fading out.
“Miseria Cantare” by AFI slowly fades onto the arena’s sound system. The low music continues to play as various pictures, and small clips of Johnson’s career flashes over the Tron. When the first bit of vocals are heard, Charles walks out on the ramp looking down at the ring. Making his way down to the ring he walks up the ring steps, and into the ring. Bouncing around the ring before focusing in on the match ahead. The last big of the song fades as he awaits the bell.
(Troy) The following contest is for the X-Treme Championship and will be contested for under EXTREEEMEEE RULES!
Mike Castleberry and Charles Johnson cicle each other for a few seconds, measuring each other up before they both stop and start to stare at each other for a few seconds. Both men turn and slide out of the ring. They lift the canvas from around the ring and begin to pull out objects. Johnson picks up a hockey stick and begins to make his way around to where Castleberry is.
Castleberry pulls out an umbrella and opens it in Johnson’s face, which knocks him off balance for a minute, which is long enough for Castleberry to kick him in the midsection and ram him shoulder first into the steel ring steps. He picks Johnson back up and puts on an arm wringer before pushing him shoulder first once again into the steel ring post. Johnson falls to his knees and Castleberry goes back for another weapon. He grabs a wiffleball bat and goes back for Johnson, but Johnson nails him with a double leg takedown.
Johnson slowly gets back to his feet and attempts to pick Castleberry up off the mat, but Castleberry cracks him with the bat across the temple. Johnson staggers backward as Castleberry gets back to his feet and snaps him with it again, right into Charles' back. Johnson continues to stagger back but still moves as Castleberry charges him, causing Castlebery to smash into the barricade which was set up especially for this match. Johnson rolls back in the ring holding his shoulder. He slides out of the other side and pulls up the canvas once more. He then tosses a couple things into the ring.
Johnson walks around the ring to where Castleberry is once again and takes him by the head, nailing him with a Rib breaker. He then slides him in the ring and follows suit as well. Castleberry and Johnson get back to their feet at about the same time. Castleberry has a cabbage in his hand and Johnson has a kitchen sink. Johnson swings the sink but Castleberry ducks and nails him with the vegetable right in the forehead. Johnson staggers back and Castleberry manages to hit him with another shot that sends him through the ropes. Johnson lands on the apron however and Castleberry stomps him. Johnson gets back in the ring and Castleberry picks him back to his feet. He lifts him up for a powerslam but Charles Johnson tries to shift his weight and their heads collide sending both men to the mat.
After about 6 seconds Castleberry is back to his knees and slides back out. But Charles will not allow him to regroup; he slides out of the ring himself and follows him. Charles double axe handles Castleberry between the shoulder blades, then follows with a kick to his ribs. Then he pulls him by the hair and slams his face into the barricade. Castleberry holds his face and continues walking forward. Johnson stops him, turns him around, and lands a big right hand to Castleberry’s ribs.
Charles takes out a baseball bat from a trash can that was pulled out from under the ring. Mike senses the danger and slides under the ring. Johnson lifts the bat, aiming at Castleberry; he swings to his head, but Castleberry ducks it and tackles him down.
Both men roll around on the floor, brawling. Castleberry grabs Johnson by the head and hammers the back of his head against the floor several times. Then Castleberry gets up and goes over to the trash can near the ring, he takes out a steel chair and throws it down. Then he searches some more and takes out two trashcan lids. Johnson is trying to stand up; the back of his head is busted open. Castleberry takes a trashcan lid on each hand and smashes them against each side of Johnson’s head.
Johnson is dazed but remains standing, then Castleberry repeats the procedure, this time even harder. Johnson goes down to one knee, but still throws some punches to Mike’s midsection. Castleberry then begins alternating trashcan lid shots with each hand to Johnson’s head. After each shot, Johnson goes further down until he falls over. The former Tag Team Champion smashes one of the lids right into Charles’s back and then tosses the lids away; he walks over to the steel chair that is lying down. He picks it up and stands it upright. Then Castleberry leans over and pulls Johnson up. Johnson not only has the back of his head busted, but blood is coming out from the top of his forehead as well. Castleberry headlocks his rival, then he charges with him towards the chair and proceeds to bulldog Johnson face first against the chair. From the impact, the chair gets folded up.
Mike looks down at his bloodied opponent and sadistically smiles. He brings him up to his feet again, and nails him with a vicious backbreaker. Charles holds his back in pain and screams. Johnson is face down on the concrete floor. Blood covers the back of his head and also pours down over his face. He appears almost lifeless, showing no movement. Mike stands up and walks to a ladder. He slowly sets it up and begins to climb it. But to the surprise of all, Johnson gets up. He uses all his energy to quickly get up and rushes at the ladder. Johnson dives onto it, causing the ladder to fall and Castleberry to fly off the ladder, crashing against the floor. This time it is Castleberry’s turns to scream in pain whilst holding his ribs.
The noise from the fans is revitalizing Johnson, blood covers most of his head and face, but he wipes the blood off his eyes and slowly stands up. Castleberry is getting up as well, with a grimace on his face. Johnson goes over to the trash can and takes out two kendo sticks.
As Castleberry gets within range, Johnson smashes one kendo stick into his stomach, and then splatters the other one across his ribs. Castleberry falls to his hands and knees. Johnson then kicks Castleberry full blown in the face causing him to fall back facing up. He has a busted lip and blood coming out from his nose. Johnson leans over Castleberry, placing one of the kendo sticks over his throat, choking him.
Johnson finally gets off his opponent; Castleberry turns on his shoulder gasping for air, holding his throat. Johnson walks over back to the can. He searches for another weapon. A smile sprouts on his face when he sees something. He reaches down and takes out a crowbar. Johnson waits on Castleberry to get up. Johnson is ready, and so are the fans. As soon as Castleberry turns around, Johnson nails him with forehead with the crowbar. Castleberry rotates 180 degrees in the air and crashes unto the floor.
Castleberry is on the floor, holding his head. Johnson leans down and drives the end of the crowbar into his ribs twice. Charles lifts Mike up and nails him with a Snap Suplex. Now Castleberry's the one who isn’t moving. Johnson is down on his knees, breathing heavily. He reaches forward and lets his arm drape across Mike's chest. One. Two. Kickout!
Charles gets up and argues with the referee. Much like their last encounter, Castleberry grabs Johnson’s tights and rolls him up from behind while he argues, using the ropes for leverage. But hey, anything goes right now. The ref slides down and makes the three count!
(JB) Castleberry pulls it out again!
(Tom) But what’s he doing grabbing the house microphone?
(Castleberry) I’m going to make this short and sweet. I don’t know how this happened or who did this to me despite my suspicions, but me and my family have gotten into a bit of financial trouble. I thought I had things covered being back here in the NAFW, especially as a champion and all. But suddenly, when Mr. Johnson here wanted to buy my championship belt… my bank account was conveniently drained, and it went empty at a very bad time for my family.
Castleberry paces around the ring as Johnson gets back up to his feet.
(Castleberry) So Johnson, I don’t know what the hell you did to me and my family or why you did it, but it’s my job to support them and have their backs. So I’m taking that check of yours and I’m going to make sure I can go take care of my own personal family issues. But before I go handle that, I needed to make sure that I could beat you, because Mike Castleberry is the king of extreme. Now I have no choice but to step away from this mess you made for me out of the ring… so while I’m gone, consider your purchase complete.
Castleberry drops the belt on the mat, which Johnson picks up.
(Castleberry) But just know, I will be back for that belt after you or whoever else gets their hands on it is done keeping it warm for me.
With that, Castleberry drops the microphone and walks out of the ring and to the back. Charles Johnson picks up the X-Treme Championship and carries it over his shoulder like he earned the damn thing, and takes it to the back with him as well. The cameras follow, where Commissioner Buchanan is waiting for him.
(Buchanan) You know what Johnson… I’m not sure who you think you are around this place… But no one comes onto one of my shows and buys an NAFW championship belt. So guess what? Consider your purchase with Mr. Castleberry complete, and your score with him even. So while he goes and takes that check of yours to the bank, I hope you enjoyed your two minutes of fame with the title, because as the Commissioner of the NAFW, I am declaring this X-Treme Championship “reign” of yours invalid, and the title vacated. McJohnson, if you will…
With that, the head of security McJohnson grabs the title belt off Johnson and hands it over to the Comissioner while the Corporate Businessman storms off with a pissed off look on his face.
(Tom) It looks like Johnson made a bad investment!
(JB) I’ll say! He can’t be happy about that. He’s lost his money and that belt. Looks like what goes around comes around!
Redemption Begins... Now
The lights of the arena go out, pitch black except for the dim lights along the aisles that illuminate the crowds walkways. Suddenly, a deep voice bellows out three words.
A golden light shines down on the entrance ramp as the curtains part. Golden pyro showers down from above the man, as he walks out in a white robe with golden trimming. He stands there with his arms outstretched as the pyro falls all around him, as the lyrics of the song kick in.
Screaming for you till my throat is numb
I wanna break out
I need a way out
I don't believe that it's gotta be this way
The worst is the waiting
In this room I'm suffocating
Making his way down the ramp, he gets a mixed reaction, as no one seems to recognize him and the crowd is unsure how to react. From the look of it, it appears that the cheers are being piped in through the PA system along with the song.
I take you in
I've died
As the word died is belted out, a loud boom echoes through the arena as the robed man tosses back his hood to reveal a white mask with the same golden trimming and designs over the front.
I wanna live for love, wanna live for you and me
Breathe for the first time now I come alive somehow
Rebirthing now
I wanna live my live, wanna give you everything
Breathe for the first time now I come alive somehow
Right now
Having climbed the steps and stepped between the ropes to enter the ring, the man stands in the center with his arms outstretched as the song slowly fades away, taking the cheers with it.
A silence fills the arena as people whisper back and forth to each other trying to figure out who this guy actually is. The robed man pulls a microphone out and brings it to where his lips should be, as they are covered by the blinding snow-like mask. The same deep voice echoes out through the arena.
(Krystian) Since the rebirth of the North American Foundation of Wrestling, chaos has run rampant through the backstage hallways... Just recently, men have been set ablaze in front of a live audience, women have been brutalized by heathens with no sense of morals, and a ball holds the prestigious Atlantic title.
Boos ring out from the crowd, whether it is because of Wilson being a champion or Krystian is simply boring them to death remains to be seen.
(Krystian) Such travesties should not be allowed, but somehow management has failed to control the situation. This can no longer go unaddressed. The time to put a cease to this lucid behavior is now, before they are allowed to further tarnish the great reputation the Foundation once held. It doesn't matter who you are, or where you think you stand on the imaginary ladder of stature and importance. I am here to shatter that ceiling you believe to be standing upon.
He slowly tilts his head back slightly.
(Krystian) I AM he who has been delivered to rid the NAFW of it's sin. I AM he who has descended upon this ring to give you...
He points out into the audience with his free hand.
(Krystian) ...someone you can believe in. Someone you can put your faith in. Someone to represent what is right and just. I AM...
He lets the microphone fall from his hand, stretching out his arms once more as his voice still manages to fill the arena.
“Krystian”
'Rebirthing' by Skillet once again plays through the PA system, as Krystian lifts the hood over his head and exits the ring. The piped in cheers still causing the crowd to search for those responsible for the applause, only to find no one cheering at all.
Numb-legged Arrival
We cut to the parking lot. Pulling in to a nearby spot is a dark red Pontiac Vibe. Unlike Leonard Aaron's now destroyed car, this one doesn't have any fancy custom license plate. Instead it has a standard New York plate, and a sticker from Avis Car Rental. If it did have a custom plate though, it would probably be 2 GOODS.
But since it doesn't have that custom plate, please pretend that you don't already know who's about to step out of the car. Thanks.
Three of the four doors open almost exactly together, and three people step out. From the driver's seat is Spaz, behind him is Slush and the front passenger is Ammo. As these three close their doors, the fourth door opens.
(Twitch) Why did Twitch have to sit behind Jumbo? Now Twitch's legs are numb!
The Goods begin to retrieve their gear from the hatch at the back of the car.
(Slush) You're the shortest.
(Twitch) But Pez is skinnier!
(Spaz) I was driving.
(Twitch) Twitch can drive!
Ammo grunts. This would be number 13, which is very similar to number 12, but has a subtle difference in the ending. Its closest translation is something along the lines of a completely sarcastic uttering of the word "Right." (Note that "completely" is the result of the subtle difference between 13 and 12, which is "more than slightly" sarcastic.)
(Twitch) Twitch heard that!
(Ammo) Good.
The Goods have all their gear now, and Ammo shuts the hatch. Slush tosses Twitch's bag at the numb-legged manager, who staggers when he catches it. The four men make their way toward the arena entrance.
But none of them notice the large dark red towel that fell out of Twitch's bag, which is now lying on the ground.
VYC vs. Trevor Cunning (TT)
Special Guest Referee: Kyle Cole
(Tom) I hate Twitch.
(JB) Well, if I can remember, Bear – Twitch isn’t too fond of you either.
(Tom) Please, Mann-Wagon… Everyone loves me. Besides, Twitch doesn’t experience emotions like regular people.
(JB) Oh, no?
(Tom) No – the idiot feels colors and sounds like he’s Denis Leary or something.
(JB) Don’t you mean Timothy Leary?
(Tom) No – Denis – the guy has to be high all the time if he thinks he’s believable as a bad ass firefighter.
(Tom) Here he comes – the Interloper Superstar.
(JB) It’s not Kyle Cole’s fault that Cunning came out to interrupt not one, but two appearances!
(Tom) Well, grandpa should’ve taken his ball and gone home a long time ago – now he’s messing with the young, vibrant stallions!
(JB) That’s so… ew.
The crowd explodes again as “Bullet with a Name” by Nonpoint begins blaring through the PA speakers throughout the arena. Just as the lyrics kick in, the Anti-Hero Superstar himself steps through the curtain, bringing a storm of flashbulbs with him. Clad in his zebra stripes – Cole makes the universal motion for calling things right down the middle – the karate chop into an open palm. Cole hits the ring and climbs up onto the top rope – happy to be back in action – even if that only means officiating.
(JB) I, for one, think it’s good to see Kyle Cole back in an NAFW ring!
(Tom) Go stick your finger in a light socket, Mann-Hole.
The intro to “Last Firstborn” by Celldweller gives way to “Machiavellism” by Dir En Grey, signaling the arrival of VYC. What would normally be a showy, fun infused sprint to the top turnbuckle and a leap into the ring is a slow walk, somber, determined and purposeful.
In the ring, VYC gets right in Cole’s face – still unwilling to forgive the Anti-Hero Superstar for sticking his nose in VYC’s business – for keeping him from Trevor Cunning and avenging the Scrapyards.
(JB) VYC better stand back and respect the strips on Kyle Cole’s chest.
(Tom) Respect Kyle Cole – hell, even I’ll give VYC a pass on this.
(JB) Cole’s already shown he’s not going to back down from a fight, Bear.
(Tom) Then let these two idiots beat the good grace of Gord out of each other – Cunning will come and mop up the pieces.
(JB) Like the opportunistic sunuvabitch he is.
(Tom) I think you mean intelligent.
(JB) You weren’t offended by the sunuvabitch part?
(Tom) No, that’s why I like Trev.
Kyle Before Cute is What We Aim For can launch into the beginning of “Newport Living,” Tool takes over with a screeching guitar, signaling the start of “Sober.”
Former Foundation Heavyweight Champion Trevor Cunning stumbles through the curtain, bottle of Jack Daniels raised to his lips. He lowers the handle, spits a mouthful high into the air, and basks, if only for a moment, in the surrounding drunken haze.
While Cunning would typically bask in the vitriol and spite surrounding his arrival – tonight he means business. For what VYC did to his movie-star good looks, for being a cancer in the locker room – he’s gonna pay. And if Kyle Cole gets in the way… so be it. Cunning pulls his polo off and, having taken another swig of Jack, sprints to the ring. He tosses he bottle of Jack over the top rope and slides under the bottom rope.
While Cole goes to collect the bottle – VYC attacks, stomping on Cunning’s chest and neck. Before he can gain an advantage – Cunning blows his mouthful of Jack up into VYC’s eyes, sending the returning bishounen warrior back to the center of the ring, clutching at his face.
Cole immediately gets up in Cunning’s face – questioning him as to what happened to Chang. Cunning shoulder bumps him.
(Tom) You tell him, Trev. You did nothing wrong!
(JB) He might have blinded VYC, Bear.
(Tom) Exactly. He did nothing wrong.
Cunning immediately begins playing dirty – going right for VYC’s eyes and throat. With each illegal maneuver – Cole begins counting – and Cunning reminds him that he, in fact, has until five. After the second series of chokes, where Cunning has VYC’s neck on the middle rope – Cole pushes Cunning off of VYC.
Cole starts pointing to his referee’s shirt – which Cunning then spits on.<
(JB) I don’t know how much disrespect Kyle Cole will take from Cunning before he either gets physical or disqualifies him.
(Tom) Like Cunning’s worried about either, Mann-itoba? Cunning’s not afraid to fight both men.
While Cunning and Cole fight, VYC regains a vertical base in the corner. Cunning rushes in with a shoulder lowered, only for VYC to leap up, and then Oklahoma Roll Trevor. With Cunning on the mat, VYC leaps up and dropkicks him in the skull. Cue two hard kicks to the back. When VYC approaches Trevor next – he mouths off to Cole – giving Trevor time to bury a right in VYC’s gut. A second and a third right stun VYC, and Cunning begins choking VYC, again, against the ropes. At five, Cole tries to pull Cunning off, only for Cunning to push him away and hit a huge overhand chop. A second is caught by Cole, who pulls Cunning around. VYC responds with a dropkick, sending Cunning into Cole. VYC catches him with a roll up, and Cole, hesitantly counts.
He gets one.
(JB) Cole still needs to do his job too.
(Tom) You were the one threatening violence, Mann-wheel. How come Cole doesn’t get to be angry at VYC too?
Cunning rises with a lariat, knocking VYC down. He then pulls him up, irish-whips him, and on the return, throws VYC into Cole.
(Tom) Look at these two idiots, arguing.
(JB) Cunning’s just pulling everyone’s strings here!
Cole shoves VYC. VYC shoves him back. Cunning meanwhile, props himself up in the corner and enjoys. Cole things twice about the encounter – and then steps aside allowing VYC hits a running dive, connecting with a flying leg lariat that brings Cunning to the mat. He rolls to the outside.
VYC bounces off the ropes, leaps onto the top, then rotates in midair, connecting with a diving somersault splash onto Cunning. He quickly gets back to his feet, and then, grabbing Cunning by the hair, smashes him into the steel barricade, and then into the steps.
He rolls in at 8 to break the count.
Now on the outside, VYC kicks Cunning square in the chest. He steps back, runs forward, and hits a diving dropkick into Cunning’s chest – smashing Trevor’s skull back against the steel steps again.
As Cunning rolls away, VYC climbs the steps, and leaps backwards, landing on Trevor with a moonsault.
He rolls in at 8 to break the count – but Kyle Cole won’t let him leave.
Cole pulls VYC into the ring and pushes him into the corner – pointing to the stripes and demanding that the match continue inside the ring.
(JB) I have to admit, it’s nice to see a referee enforcing the rules.
(Tom) Sure - but only after Cunning’s gotten knocked around by VYC’s illegal antics!
Cunning makes it to his feet at 8. VYC goes after him – distracting Cole. VYC pushes Cole into Cunning on the apron, who falls to the floor. Before Cole can retaliate, VYC leaps over Cole to the top rope and to the outside with a diving leg drop onto the prone Godfather.
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
(JB) VYC DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST!
(Tom) Dry cleaning? Massage? Nails?
(JB) Flying!
Cole heads to the outside – where VYC is slowly recovering. Cunning is barely starting to stir. VYC and Cole start arguing – when Cunning stands up and grabs a steel chair. He winds up, ready to hit VYC – when Chang moves – and Cunning connects square with Cole’s skull.
The Anti-Hero Superstar goes down.
(JB) That’s not going go over well.
(Tom) Eh – no big loss!
VYC doesn’t miss a beat – picking up a chair of his own and chucking it at Cunning’s skull. Cunning stumbles backwards into the guardrail, where a VYC lariat takes him off his feet and into the crowd. He pulls Cunning up and chops him twice, only for Cunning to return the blows with chops of his own. A war of right hands in the crowd is quickly won by the larger Godfather – who then bends VYC back over the guardrail and rains sledgehammer fists into Chang’s chest. Cunning hops the guardrail and jumps onto the Spanish Announce Table, before flying off with an elbow, flipping VYC back into the ringside area.
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Cunning pulls cables and starts choking Chang – and that’s when the fun begins. Kyle Cole climbs back to his feet – to find blood running down his forehead. He peels off his referee’s shirt to the delight of the female fans and runs in, kneeing Cunning right in the side of the skull. He gets in the mount position and starts striking Cunning at will, throwing heavy rights and lefts.
VYC pulls Cole off of Cunning and mounts Cunning himself, throwing rights and even knees at Cunning’s skull. Cole pulls VYC off of Cunning and chops him, hard.
(Tom) You’re the referee! Act like it!
(JB) Since when have you been opposed to violence?
(Tom) When Trevor’s the target!
Cole and Chang start brawling back towards the ring, a pair of well placed kicks from VYC stunning Cole enough for VYC to back him up against the ring post. Chang runs toward Cole, only for the Anti-Hero Superstar to lift him into the air and toss him into the ring post, face first.
He then turns his attention to Trevor – who’s trying to crawl away. He pulls Cunning up by his tights, eats a back elbow in response and bails into the ring. Cunning follows, climbing to the top rope on the outside. Cole, the savvy ring veteran, kicks the top rope and crotches Cunning, before chopping him twice and superplexing him to the mat.
He turns just in time to see VYC charging, lowers his head, and backbody drops him onto Cunning. Cole starts posing – only for VYC to dropkick him down into the corner. Cunning grabs the rising VYC and chucks him, shoulder first, into Cole, before falling flat on his face in a flair flop.
VYC is the first to his feet – and takes the rising Cunning down with a spinning wheel kick. He gets up to a teardrop suplex from Kyle Cole, who eats a Boot, and then Rallies, courtesy of Trevor Cunning. VYC pulls himself up in the corner, blocks a Cunning charge with a big boot – and then hits a tornado DDT, Cunning’s skull landing square on Cole’s chest.
He covers.
There’s no referee.
(Tom) What an idiot – taking out the referee!
(JB) In VYC’s defense, Cole tried to take him out first.
VYC climbs to the top, enjoying the applause, and poises himself for the Point 77. Both Cunning and Cole get to a vertical base, groggy – and the shooting star press DDT connects on both men.
Cue the chant.
HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!!
HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!!
HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!!
VYC gets his three – but still, there’s no referee. He heads to the outside, and pulls out a table. Throwing all caution to the wind, he sets the table up on the inside, rolls Cole on top, and then rolls Cunning on top of Cole.
He leaps off the mat, onto both men with a double stomp, and to the top rope. When he leaps backwards, Cunning falls off – but the moonsault to Cole connects. VYC immediately rises to his knees, where Cunning wraps his arms around Chang’s waist. He throws VYC overhead with a German Suplex – VYC landing square on his skull.
Cunning kicks Cole for good measure and then goes to get his bottle of Jack. He measures VYC for a bottle shot – only for the attack to be dodged and retaliated with by a shotei palm strike. VYC again hops to the top rope – but his legs are pushed out by Cunning. Cunning pulls VYC into a Canadian Backbreaker position and hits the Sobriety Test.
When he gets to his feet – he goes down – immediately – courtesy of a Kyle Cole Dreamweaver Deluxe.
Cole covers both men, laying across both at the same time – and counts himself a pair of threes.
(JB) Can the referee win the match?
(Tom) Not against Trevor Cunning he can’t. Against VYC sure.
(JB) Cole pinned them both.
(Tom) Right, but he only beat VYC – he wasn’t competing in Trevor’s match.
(JB) Sigh…
Satisfied, Cole leaves, rolling to the outside and heading towards the back. James Elbourn sprints by him to the ring on his way.
In the ring, we see that when Cunning fell – his arm landed on VYC’s chest. Elbourn looks at the carnage in the ring, and has no choice but to count – he gets to three rather quickly.
(Tom) WOOHOO! Another flawless victory for the Godfather!
(JB) Are you kidding me?
(Tom) Cunning hit the Sobriety Test!
(JB) He certainly looks like a winner.
Cunning is being helped to his feet by officials – still groggy from the Dreamweaver Deluxe. Whether he’s drunk or concussed is completely uncertain.
(JB) Trevor Cunning steals another victory.
(Tom) He stole nothing!
The Plot Thickens...
Classy.
It was the best way to put it as a 2007 Chevrolet Suburban rolled through the parking lot of Madison Square Garden. The rather large American SUV alone was sight on its own, a true testament to American ingenuity and design, with its flowing lines and aggression front billet grille with the classic Chevrolet bowtie on the front. Yet, with its mirror-finished gloss black paint the truck took a attitude all its own with its dark limousine tint on all of its windows and the large twenty-four inch DUB-inspired chrome rims wrapped around a sporty Pirelli low-profile tire. The headlights shine bright as the truck comes to a complete stop in front of several semi-trucks with NAFW trailers attached to the back.
(JB) What is going on here? We aren’t expecting any special guests tonight.
(Tom) Ha! Shows what you know…then again, when are we told anything? We find stuff out like the rest of the boobs in the crowd, we find out as it is happening. But whoever this is…I love that truck.
The driver side door opens as a large black male step out of the truck, closing the door behind him. He stands easily at a massive six-foot-fix and not a pound shy under three-hundred pounds. He’s not slouch by any means but yet, it was never a good idea to stands in his way. The front passenger side door opened as a white male stepped out of the chair, not as big as the first but yet he didn’t lack any size, as he reached up adjusting the black shades on his face. Both men wore black suits with black ties as the driver steps back and open the rear driver side door slowly. A black suit covered his large frame, along with a black silk shirt with a red tie, yet his face was covered by a black luchadore mask, covering all and any chance to see his ethnicity or any facial features. Even his hands are covered with a pair of black Mechinx gloves. He’s not the type to seem that he would need outside protection from anyone but yet, as he stepped forward, the two men stepped to his flank immediate like soldiers, keeping their eyes on a swivel for anything that would compromise their ‘target’, if you will. In his left hand, he holds a black briefcase; to what is inside is anyone’s guess. Reaching into the side pocket of his suit jacket, he pulls out a metallic Zippo light; he flicks the top open and ignites the lighter as a small flame flickers. He holds the lighter up for a few fleeting seconds before flicking his wrist and extinguishing the flame.
(Unknown) “Gentlemen…I do believe we have a public to address.”
(JB) Who the hell is this guy?
(Tom) I neither know, nor do I care. But the with muscle this guy has around, I’m sure he isn’t any one to mess with!
It’s Getting Darker
We open inside of the dressing room of "The Reaper" as this
gets a rather mixed reaction from the fans in NYC following his tirade to open
the evening. Aarons is sitting with a towel over his head, as he sits with
both boots unlaced and his wrestling attire on save for his bare chest which
has the women going wild. He has earphones in his ear as he has his theme song
blaring, getting him in the mood to rumble later on. Not that he needs the
motivation, but it doesn't hurt. As he sits with "Go 2 Sleep" by Eminem, Obie
Trice & DMX blaring out of his MP3 player, the door opens and a set of heeled
boots can be seen entering. The boots walk in closing the door as Aarons is
still oblivious to this person's arrival. As the camera pans back, we see that
it's Vanessa Chamberlain in an all black outfit from the jeans down to the
shirt. As she gets within a few feet of Aarons, she doesn't get to take
another step as L's moderately low tenor voice stops her in her tracks.
(The Reaper) I think you're in the wrong dressing room
Vanessa.
He doesn't even bother to look up, as Vanessa looks down at
her ex who's sunk into his leather couch with the ear pieces still in his ear.
(Vanessa) Nice to see you too.
(The Reaper) I don't recall even acknowledging you being
here as anything short of repugnant. Now what do you want?
(Vanessa) Can we talk?
(The Reaper) We are talking. And right now, I'm barely
in the mood to continue the banter we've had going back and forth. So if
there's something you'd like to say, say it and get going.
He still has yet to remove the towel from his head of the
earphones from his ear. Vanessa is still a few feet away and she takes a deep
breath, before speaking again.
(Vanessa) About last week...I wanted to thank you for
saving me from Stryker. I know that you didn't want to or anything but...
If there was anything that could or would have Aarons move,
that did it. He flips the towel off of his head and there's a rather
incredulous look in his eyes as if he can't believe what he just heard. As he
starts to take the earphones off one ear at a time, his body takes more of an
assertive stance as he leans forward.
(The Reaper) You wanna run that by me again?
(Vanessa) Which part?
(The Reaper) The part where I saved you from Stryker.
(Vanessa) What's to rewind? You did it for...
(The Reaper) Me. I did it for me, not you. Look, that
rat bastard tried to put me through the windshield of my car and he took
property that didn't and never will belong to him as long as I'm the owner of
it. Personally, he could've jammed your head all the way into your shoulders
for all I care. As long as I got what was mine back, it was all gravy to me.
Vanessa has a slightly miffed look on her face. This gives
way to absolute shock and appall.
(Vanessa) You...you don't mean that. I mean,
look, I know we've had a rough go of it the past few months and all...but I...
(The Reaper) See gold and want back on the Reaper
Express? Sorry, train's left the station and your ticket's long since expired.
It's here that he gets up, walking over to his Foundation
Heavyweight Championship which rests on a table as Vanessa is still sporting a
look that's somewhere between utterly stunned and flat out pissed.
(Vanessa) Is it that easy for you to be this cold to me?
I came in here to apologize for...
(The Reaper) Look, first off, if you know me...you'd know
it is that easy. Secondly, what are you apologizing for? For nearly
getting your neck snapped by Stryker? For failing miserably in trying to have
me revert back to Illtown? Or are you sorry that you walked out on me two
years ago and is it reality slapping you in the face every morning that you
wake up with either a cold pillow or some faceless putz next to you knowing
that neither measure up to HALF of what I am.
Vanessa tries to get something out, but before she can, L is
on it. He's getting ever closer to her as his voice gets lower.
(The Reaper) Maybe you're sorry that I did what you
always wanted and you're not there to stick that chest of yours out screaming
to the world 'my man will kick your ass and he's the champ, meaning there's
nothing you can do about it'. Maybe you're sorry that the reality of the
situation is that right now as much as you want to, you know there's not a
single solitary individual in the place that wants to try and take me on. Or
maybe just maybe you...
He smiles as whispers in her right ear, his left arm slowly
wrapping around her waist as he is now standing directly behind her. His voice
drops into a very familiar yet evil tone as he says...
(The Reaper) Miss me?
He starts to lick the back of her ear causing her to run out
in a hurry, as he laughs rather sadistically. He laughs for a few moments
before sighing as he shakes his head from side to side.
(The Reaper) Ahhh, that was fun. Really, really, fun.
He starts to whistle as he heads back to his couch, sitting
down as he laces his boots and reinserts his MP3 as he lays down and puts the
towel back over his head.
(JB) That was really, really...weird.
(Tom) Tell me about it. How dare he grope Vanessa like that.
(JB) He basically revealed that he didn't come down to save her, so much as
retrieve the title. But I'm still not getting why he's so coy about things
with her. She seemed to be genuinely contrite with her apology or lack
thereof.
(Tom) Seeing as you know nothing about women Mann-boy, let me educate you on
something. They don't know what they want. They want night during the day and
day during the night. She wanted L to be evil and now that he is, she can't
handle the fact that he's the champ of the world without her.
(JB) Still, there seems to be something very different about Aarons since that
fire incident. He seems so much...darker than before.
(Tom) How about I try setting you on fire and see how much it darkens your
perspective. I really feel for the poor soul that did it, something tells me
it's gonna be really repugnant.
Beers, Bikers and Balls
We’re going to take a quick little break in tonight’s action packed show while the cage needed for the next match gets set up properly. We open this little scene in a Bar somewhere in Miami. We know its in Miami as a) the announcers tell use we’re going to see NAFW fans enjoying the show in a bar in Miami and b) there’s a graphic which comes up on the screen that reads ‘Live from Miami, Florida’. We scroll around the bar watching people drink their beers and cheer at the screen. We pass a corner of the bar with about 20 guys all dressed up in biker gear. As we scan along to the counter, we see 2 guys sitting in front of a bartender. And when I say 2Guys I mean the former NAFW wrestlers Jackle (the taller one on the left side of the screen with Blue hair and a T-shirt that reads ‘Forget the fighting, we just run away’ on the back) and Menace (the shorter one on the right with Blond hair and a T-shirt that reads ‘Super Moron Brothers’ on its back)
(Menace) Ok, that’s 2 pints of lager and a packet of crisps please.
The bartender nods his head in understanding and Jackle gives a slight cough.
(Menace) Oh I’m sorry Jackle, did you want something as well.
(Jackle) Umm… No I’m fine with the drink I’ve got.
(Menace) So what did you make that ‘please turn your attention towards me’ cough for?
(Jackle) Just wanted you to know that it looks like the match is about to start
(Menace) Really? Which one?
Menace spins around on his chair to view the big TV set up screening Redemption to the bar. I’m sure you would have seen it at some point when we did that pan around the bar at the beginning, I mean it’s a big TV, it’s not easy to miss.
(Menace) I hope it’s the buried alive match, I’m really looking forward to that one
(Jackle) No you idiot, Andy’s match is about to start.
(Menace) Oh right… remember who we have to cheer for?
(Jackle) Yes
(Menace) Good.
There’s a small silence here as the bartender has finally served Menace his drinks, and Menace takes a drink from one of them before continuing on.
(Menace) Could you tell me, cause I forgot?
(Jackle) We’re supposed to be cheering for Wilson, so that with our luck cheering him on he has no hope of winning the match.
(Menace) Right. GO WILSON!!!!!
And so Jackle and Menace start cheering wildly for the current Atlantic champion. Of course, only mere moments from starting this cheering, those biker guys in one of the corners of the bar start to take exception to the 2Guys cheering for a volleyball and start to approach the 2Guys with mean, angry looks on their faces.
(Jackle) Uh-oh
(Menace) Maybe they’re just approaching the bar to order more drinks?
(Biker 1) Now what do you two think you are doing?
(Menace) Um, cheering for Wilson?
(Biker 2) Why would you go and do a thing like that
(Jackle) Well you see it’s to…
(Biker 1) It doesn’t matter, see you guys are cheering for some dumb ball with a face painted on it.
(Biker 3) We can’t have that.
(Biker 4) We only like Real men. Manly men. Men with ripped chests and bulging muscles and…
(Jackle) Dude, why are you salivating from the mouth?
(Menace) It’s almost as if your g…
Menace doesn’t finish off his sentence as he realises that what he was about to say was true. At the same time, so do all the biker guys standing around him, who instantly take a step back from this biker. The guy looks around to realise everyone has come to the same conclusion.
(Biker 4) Oh fudge-cicle! I’ve just blown my cover
(Menace) I bet that’s not all you’ve blown today.
It takes a couple of seconds for the implication Menace made to be processed by everyone, but all of a sudden that mental image of this guy on his knees enters everyone’s heads, and they all start to react accordingly by trying to find the nearest place to puke up the contents of their stomachs.
(Jackle) Oh dude, why would you even think up something like that?
(Menace) Because we have an opportunity to get out of here unharmed while these bikers are throwing their lunches up
(Jackle) Menace, you’re a genius. Head for the door.
And so they do, making a quick break for it and heading for the exit. The problem is that when they get to the door, it opens before they have a chance to reach out for the handle. Standing in the doorway is a guy that would give Hush a run for his money in the tallest man in the world competition. Built like a brick house and wearing biker gear like all those guys attempting to puke their guts out, this Big Biker takes one look around the bar before speaking.
(Big Biker) What is going on here?
(Biker 2) Those two idiots were trying to cheer for Wilson in the upcoming wrestling match
(Big Biker) The Volleyball? I see. I think these two gentlemen should come outside with me and have a little bit of a conversation with Mr. Lefty.
The 2Guys are more dragged out of the bar than go willingly. The door closes after they leave, so we can’t see what’s happening, but we can hear it pretty clearly.
(Menace) So where’s this Mr. Lefty?
(Big Biker) Right here
(Menace) But that’s just your fist OW FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S DECENT
(Jackle) Did you just break his nose? Wait, don’t…
There’s a loud grunt from Jackle as it sounds like a fist went into his gut area. The sound of fist making contact with the 2Guys and yells and screams of pain coming from outside makes the bikers in the bar a bit more recovered and content on going back to watch the wrestling.
(Biker 1) Better get in a round of beers
(Biker 4) Oh, I’ll have a white wine with lemonade, a slice of lemon and a pink parasol in it.
All the bikers once again look at this guy strangely.
(Biker 4) Or a beer… beer is good.
And with that, we’ve filled up all the time there was available while the stage crew did whatever they needed to do to get the Cage ready for the next match and we can return to ringside ready to watch Wilson and co fight it out for the Atlantic Championship.
Andy D vs. Crazy Boy vs. Snake vs. Wilson (AC)
Snakes On A Cage Match
Atlantic Championship
(Troy) Ladies and gentlemen, the following is the Snakes on a Cage match for the NAFW Atlantic Championship! You may win the match by either pinning your opponent, making your opponent submit, or escaping the cage...
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 through the cage door, not worrying about the snakes on the cage and heads to his turnbuckle, flipping his bucket hat off his head and placing on the metal part of the turnbuckle. He takes off his shades and places them on the hat before turning around ready for the match.
(Troy) Introducing first, from somewhere in the United Kingdom, weighing in at one hundred ninety seven pounds...ANDY D!
"Fully Alive" by Flyleaf hits the PA as the lights dim and then flicker out. Strobe lights flicker on as smoke fills the entryway and the ramp. All the sudden, a figure comes out from the back and stands in the smoke, right fist pumped up in the air. The strobe lights make the figure seem like it is blinking as the figure cuts through the smoke. The crowd cheers as it is NAFW's very own psycho, Crazy Boy. CB walks down the ramp, keeping his obviously nervous eyes locked on the snakes on the cage walls. Crazy Boy cautiously enters through the door and looks to go towards the turnbuckle, but stops and instead just thrusts an arm in the air.
(Troy) Next...From Biloxi, Missouri, weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds...CRAZY BOY!
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 before he starts to make his way down to the ring. Snake takes his sweet time getting to the ring, showing his appreciation for the fans. When he does get to the ring, Snake climbs through the door, glances over the cage briefly and climbs onto the nearest turnbuckle, throwing his arms up in the air once more to get one last rise out of the crowd before he turns to look at Crazy Boy and Andy D.
(Troy) Now making his way to the ring, from Portland, Oregon, weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds...SNAKE!
Several seconds of nothing pass as Crazy Boy and Andy D look at Snake with confused looks on their faces. Snake, pretending he doesn't know what Wilson has planned just shrugs...
(Tom) Damnit...Where's my favorite wrestler ever!?
(JB) He can't walk by himself, Tom...Maybe Snake thought it'd be best for Wilson to sit this match out...
Suddenly, the lights go out briefly as the opening rifts to "Big Balls" by AC/DC starts to play over the PA system. Just before the first lyric, Wilson, who's now a beach ball, shoots up out of the ground. A stagehand dressed in all black, including a black mask, catches Wilson before he hits the ground. The stagehand brings Wilson, the Atlantic Title, and a new picture of Wilson pinning Crazy Boy from the last Annihilation down to the ring. The stagehand places Wilson on the ring apron in the corner and hands the referee the Atlantic Championship. Crazy Boy and Andy D once again look at Snake, who now has his head in his hand, giving off the impression that he's embarrased for Wilson.
(Troy) And finally, he is the North American Foundation Wrestling Atlantic Champion...From Nashville, Tennessee...Weighing in at a hearty two pounds...WILSON!
(JB) Wilson seems to have gone all out for his first ever Pay Per View singles entrance...
(Tom) ...Balls out, maybe?
The referee shows Snake, Crazy Boy, Andy D, and Wilson the title, then raises it above his head before handing it to the referee on the outside. As soon as the cage door is locked and the bell rings. Snake, Crazy Boy, and Andy D all look at each other, as well as the structure that surrounds them. Snake, not wanting to waste any time, dives at Wilson and chucks him over the top of the cage wall seconds before being tackled by both Crazy Boy and Andy D. Crazy Boy and Andy D then look over at Wilson on the outside, who is now in the arms of an adoring fan. The referee on the outside of the cage takes a quick glance at Wilson in the arm's of the fan, then looks back at the competitors in the cage and signals that Wilson did not hit the ground as the fan tosses him back into the cage, foiling what could've been Wilson's only ticket out of the match with the belt.
(Tom) Damnit ref! Wilson just escaped the cage!
(JB) Yes, but his feet didn't touch the ground...
(Tom) Curse you technicalities...You win this time...
Crazy Boy and Andy D stare at each other whilst Snake is, what appears to be, out cold in the corner. Crazy Boy and Andy D both start to talk the situtation over, obviously weighing their options. In the meantime, Snake is starting to make his way towards the door of the cage. Crazy Boy and Andy D turn to see Snake already about a third of the way across the ring. Andy D and Crazy Boy look back at each other and nod, they're on the same page as they both head over to Snake and, each grabbing a handful of tights, pull him off the canvas. The duo whip Snake into the ropes. Andy D hits a drop toe hold, causing Snake to land face first on the canvas. Crazy Boy, in the mean time, has bounced off the ropes and lands a leg drop to the back of Snake's head. Snake rolls over to his back, only for Andy D to quickly go for a pinfall cover. Snake kicks out almost immediatly as Crazy Boy goes for a cover of his own, and Snake again kicks out.
(JB) Crazy Boy and Andy D setting aside their differences to make sure Snake doesn't leave the match with the belt...
(Tom) I tell you, this is a conspiracy against the greatest tag team alive today!
(JB) But the Trust Fund Kids aren't even in the match...
Andy D motions to Crazy Boy, then to Snake, causing Crazy Boy to nod. They're obviously planning something as they pick up Snake to his feet, each grab his head, and go to chuck him face first into the cage walls. Snake has other plans as he jumps up and lands on the middle rope and springboards back, kicking Crazy Boy in the head. Andy quickly catches Snake with a hard forearm shot, knocking Snake down as Crazy Boy stumbles backwards and leans against the ropes, shaking the cobwebs from his head. Crazy Boy then realises where he is as a snake starts to wrap itself around his arm, causing him ti freak out and jump about 10 feet towards the middle of the ring. Andy D gives Crazy Boy a look that can only be described as "What the hell!?" to which Crazy Boy responds with a look of "There's motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking cage!" Andy D gives off a look of "Dude...They're fake..." as he walks over to the cage wall, grabs a small handful of snakes, and chucks them at Crazy Boy. Crazy Boy starts to freak out, the snakes slither for safety out of the ring, and Andy D starts to chuckle a little bit at Crazy Boy's misfortune. Crazy Boy gets some of his composure back as he marches over to Andy D and gives him a shove. Andy D, not taking to kindly to the shoving, shoves back. Crazy Boy, now upset with Andy D pulls back and releases with a hard forearm shot, knocking Andy D back a bit, causing Andy D to retaliate with a forearm shot of his own.
(JB) So much for their alliance...
(Tom) IT'S BECAUSE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!
The duo continue exchanging forearm shots as Snake is seen standing in background. Snake heads over to the two men and, without missing a beat, is the recipient of double back elbows from Crazy Boy and Andy D, who go right back to duking it out with forearms. Snake stumbles backwards slightly, looks at Andy D and Crazy Boy duking it out, then down at Wilson and gets an idea. Snake picks up Wilson and chucks him at Crazy Boy. Crazy Boy stops momentarily as Andy D is able to get in one last shot. Crazy Boy stumbles backwards and into a back tie-up from Snake. But before Snake can do anything, Crazy Boy ducks under a flying Andy D, only for Andy D to hook Snake as he continues through, pulling Snake down in a sunset flip pin, which, in turn, causes Snake to his a German suplex on Crazy Boy.
One...
Two...
Kickout!
(JB) Near fall for Andy D!
(Tom) And Crazy Boy just about went into the MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!
(JB) How many times are you going to say that?
(Tom) As many times as possible...It's not often I get to say "MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON A MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!"
(JB) You're lucky this is a pay per view and viewer discrestion is advised...
Snake and Andy D both get up to their feet and the duo lock up. Snake quickly turns the move into a side headlock, but as Andy D goes to counter it with a back suplex, Snake rolls out of it and quickly locks on a back waistlock. Andy D goes to elbow Snake in the head, but instead turns into a front waist lock. Andy D smacks Snake across the back and goes for a DDT, but Snake counters that with a northern lights suplex, arching up for a pin attempt.
One...
Two...
Andy D arches up out of the move, and quickly turns into a backslide, but Snake rolls out of that, and as the duo charge at each other, they both go for a clothesline, and both end up in a pinning predicament.
One...
Two...
Both kick out!
(JB) BIG TIME KICKOUT!
Andy D is the first up to his feet as he sees Crazy Boy starting to head towards the open door. Andy D starts to follow and is able to grab Crazy Boy's arm and whip him around. Andy D quickly drops Crazy Boy with a DDT. Snake sees the open cage door and Wilson by his foot. Snake rears back and kicks as hard as he can, sending Wilson towards the door, but the referee is able to close it seconds before Wilson gets to the edge.
(JB) Wilson almost escaped the cage, but instead hit a brick wall named Andy D...
(Tom) Wilson went Balls to the Wall!
Snake slaps the mat, slightly in frustration as we see Andy D dive at Wilson. Andy D gets to his feet with Wilson in his hand and hold him up to the snakes on the cage. One of the snakes slowly moves away from the cage and starts to wrap itself around Wilson. Snake looks somewhat stunned with Andy D as he releases Wilson. The snake that has hold of Wilson starts to tighten it's hold until it finally rears back with it's head and brings its possibly venom filled fangs into Wilson's exterior. The snake on the cage releases Wilson as a horrified Snake rushes over to console his fallen friend. With Snake's back to Andy D, Andy D decides that now is the most opportune time to climb the cage wall. Andy D grabs ahold of a barren part of the cage as he begins to climb, careful to avoid any snakes that are still on the cage wall.
(JB) Andy D's going to do it!
As Andy D is nearing the 2/3rd mark of the cage wall, we see a multicolored blur smack Andy D on the back.
(Tom) Wilson's not out yet!
Andy D looks around briefly before looking at the ground to see a now deflated Wilson on the ground, before looking up to see Snake come flying at him with a hard kick aimed at his head...But falls short holding his stomach as Crazy Boy hits a dropkick out of nowhere. Andy D finishes his climb to the top and briefly looks back, noticing Crazy Boy getting back to his feet. Instead of finishing his climb out of the cage, Andy D repositions himself and leaps off with a moonsault directed towards Crazy Boy and connects. With what strength he has left, Andy D grabs a free leg.
One...
Two...
Thre-Break up by Snake!
(JB) Snake may have just used what's left of his strength to break up a pin attempt.
Snake starts to use his fists and brings them down onto the back of Andy D. Snake picks up Andy D and goes for the Snake Bite Driver, but Andy D counters it and hits a Tornado DDT. Andy D rolls over to his stomach and starts to make his way towards the door, but doesn't get very far as Snake's nearly dead body has just enough strength to grab hold of Andy D's foot. Andy D starts to kick at Snake's hands and arms, trying to get him to release the hold, this, on the other hand, distracts Andy D long enough for Crazy Boy to come out of nowhere with a bulldog. Snake uses the ropes to get to his feet and yells at Crazy Boy to get on the turnbuckle as he picks up Andy D in an electric chair position.
(JB) Oh no...Don't tell me they're going to do what I think they're going to do...
Crazy Boy gets to the top rope, but as he does, Snake quickly drops Andy to his feet and pushes him into Crazy Boy.
(Tom) I won't, cause they're not!
Crazy Boy, unpon Andy D impact, falls forward into the cage corner, falls so he lands groin first on the top turnbuckle, then falls backward into a tree of woe postion, as Andy D falls to the ground in a heap. Snake sees the wreckage, gives off a slight chuckle, then charges and connects with a dropkick on Crazy Boy...
(Tom) CRAZY BOY JUST WENT FACE FIRST INTO THE MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!!!
...And falls into a pinning position on Andy D.
One...
Two...
THREE! NO! BREAK UP BY CRAZY BOY!
(JB) Snake's dropkick to Crazy Boy was just enough to dislodge him from the top turnbuckle!
(Tom) And I thought i've seen everything...But no...Crazy Boy's prone falling body breaking up the pin just about tops it...
(JB) Yeah...Talk about luck...
Snake, in shock of what had just happened, gets up and starts to scale the cage wall. As Snake is nearing the top, Andy D is seen stirring in the ring. Snake's got one leg over the top of the cage and is trying to pull himself over as Andy D is seen putting an arm over Crazy Boy's prone body.
One!
Snake's got both legs over the cage wall.
Two!
Snake's now dangling...
Three!
Snake drops!
The referee inside the ring raises Andy D’s arm in victory and the referee on the outside of the ring tells Snake that he was too late dropping to the outside. Snake drops to his knees in disappointment as Andy D is given the championship belt in the middle of the snakes on a cage!
(JB) It looks like Andy D has done it!
(Tom) Done what? Survived SNAKES ON A MOTHERFUCKING CAGE?
(JB) Well, that, but more importantly, taking the Atlantic Championship off a sporting ball and put it on a real wrestler. Now we’ll have to see what kind of legacy Andy D carves out for himself with this new title he’s won.
Interviewus Interruptus
(Tom) Let's head backstage to John Mills. Johnny Boy?
Cut backstage, to the door of a locker room. Standing outside said door is John Mills. Mills holds a microphone in his hand, as interviewers generally kind of need to do. A sign on the door he's outside of reads: "The Goods," so it would seem that Millsy's here for an interview with some combination of Spaz, Slush and Ammo. Maybe Twitch, too.
(John) Thank you JB. I've scheduled this time to talk to The Goods about their match tonight, as well as the comments that Mike Lane made in his explanation a couple of weeks ago. Spaz has yet to speak on that subject, and I know I'm not the only one wondering how he feels.
(Tom) Just get on with it, man!
Before Tom had completed the sentence, Mills had already turned to the door, and begun to knock. A moment later, Spaz, Slush and Ammo emerge from the locker room. Through the open door, we can see Twitch rummaging around the room.
(John) Will Twitch be joining us?
(Slush) No. He's busy doing something. Don't ask me what. I don't want to know, and you probably don't either.
Mills shrugs.
(John) Thank you, gentlemen, for joining me.
(Spaz) Our pleasure, John.
(John) First, I'd like to ask you, Spaz, if you have anything to say about Mike Lane's reason for turning on you... In particular, I think the everyone would like to know why you walked out at Death Wish, leaving your partner handcuffed to the ring - the event seems to be the catalyst for Mike Lane's later actions.
Spaz doesn't reply immediately, taking a moment to think.
(Spaz) Honestly John? Walking out at Death Wish was a mistake. Looking back, I know that. I'm not saying that staying out there wouldn't have accomplished anything - I didn't have a key to the cuffs - but Mike was my partner and I should have been there.
(Tom) HA! He admits it's all his fault!
(JB) That's not what he's saying, Bear.
It's certainly not, JB.
(Spaz) That said though, this business about Death Wish being the beginning of his betrayal? No. I don't buy it. You don't just turn on a trusted friend like that, not without some kind of build up. Mike was obviously having doubts about our team, and where it fit into his career.
(John) Fair enough. Would you all care to say a few words about your match tonight?
Slush steps forward.
(Slush) Actually, how about I say a few words about Mike Lane's excuses for turning his back on Spaz here?
(John) The floor is yours...
(Slush) Lane wants to say that Spaz is riding out the end of his career? Always near the top, but never headlining? That he's done the same thing since Griever was here? You know what I call that Mike? Consistency.
Slush takes the mic from Mills now.
(Slush) Unlike you, who's showed up, bailed, showed up again, bailed again to work in some other company or film a movie that got less box office than I Know Who Killed Me will... Spaz has been here all the way through. Only Cougar Clarke - who's Derek's uncle, by the way - is more well known in this company's history than Spaz. He was a driving force in the revolution that took a McMahon side project and -
Slush is on a roll, and not planning to stop... But he's going to, because at this very moment, the door behind them flings open and Twitch steps out.
(Twitch) Flush, have you seen Blake?
(Slush) - turned it into...
Slush turns to Twitch, astonished.
(Slush) What?
(Twitch) Blake! Blake Bouchard!
(Spaz) Who?
(Twitch) Twitch's towel! Blake Bouchard!
Spaz, Slush, and Ammo, heck even John Mills all look at Twitch, thinking exactly what Tom Kalhoun is about to say.
(Tom) You've got to be kidding me.
He's not.
(Slush) Did he just say that his towel is named Blake Bouchard?
(Spaz) Indeed.
At this point, somewhere in Alberta, an unfortunate young man (who happens to have the same name as Twitch's missing towel) promptly flies backward through a plate glass window.
(Twitch) This is serious, people! Blake Bouchard is a key element in Twitch's managerial strategy!
(Spaz) I shouldn't have given him those audio books.
For those who forgot: Spaz gave Twitch the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy audio books. If you haven't read (or heard) them, do so immediately. Until then, just know that the value of a good towel is noted on several occasions, and apparently Twitch has taken that to heart.
(Twitch) OK Twitch... Remember: Don't Panic!
With that, Twitch heads back into the locker room in search of a towel named Blake. John Mills looks at The Goods, wondering what to do next. Thankfully Spaz answers that question for him.
(Spaz) Thanks for the interview, John. I think we're done.
Mills nods, still trying to fathom Twitch, and hoping that his brain doesn't explode in the attempt.
(John) Yes, right. Good luck tonight.
(Spaz) Thanks John.
Spaz, Slush and Ammo head back into the locker room.
(John) Uh... Back to you, JB.
And we cut back to ringside.
(Tom) How is that man not in an asylum?
(JB) I have no idea. But don't ask him that question. He'll probably say that he is, and all of us are in it with him.
(Tom) Between Twitch's towel and a Championship volleyball, I'm not sure I'd disagree!
Q: How Do You Spell “Bad News?”
Fade in to a very lavish box suite in the arena. On a leather couch sits a man going for the most ambitious move of his career. No, it's not Mike Stryker trying to win the Foundation Heavyweight Championship. It's Senator Owens, father of Keith Owens, and independent candidate running for the President of the United States of America.
He sits with his right leg propped up on his left knee, flipping through the pages of the Wall Street Journal - a clear indication he's not there to watch the show. The door to his suite opens and the Senator gets off the couch to greet his guest.
(Senator) Well well well... If it isn't my favorite...
(Cunning) Son?
(Senator) Trevor, you never lose a step.
Senator Owens extends his hand to Trevor Cunning. Cunning switches his bottle of Jack to his left hand and reciprocates the handshake for all of a second before he pulls his benefactor in for a somewhat forced hug, splashing some Tennessee Whiskey on the back of the presidential hopeful. Cunning gets a nervous look on his face, intoxicated from celebrating his “victory” earlier, but the Senator doesn't seem to notice.
(Cunning) So what do we owe the pleasure of your visit tonight, Senator Owens, or should I say, President Owens?
The Senator chuckles at Trevor's comment. It's a rather cheesy moment.
(Senator) I like the way you think Trevor, I always have. I was in the New York area campaigning so I figured I'd stop in and meet with ol' Hector after the show.
(Cunning) That's fantastic. While you're here, can I offer you anything to drink while you wait? Perhaps some... Jack Daniels?
Trevor extends the bottle in his left hand towards the good Senator but he waves off the offer.
(Senator) That's a gracious offer Trevor, but no thank you. I'm actually only back here because I'm looking for my son. Have you seen Keith around?
(Trevor) He's back in his locker room, getting ready for his match with...
Trevor lowers his voice and whispers.
(Trevor) ...HUSH!
His whispering is that equivalent to that of an intoxicated person, a.k.a., not very quiet.
(Senator) Right... Well, would you tell him I'm looking for him? I've got to tell him something and I haven't been able to get a hold of him all week.
(Trevor) He's been out of it ever since that 11 foot tall freak broke his girlfriend in two.
(Senator) You'll keep an eye on him tonight, right? I need someone to watch his back. I can't afford to have my son hospitalized as well.
(Trevor) ...Or buried alive.
(Senator) What?
Clearly the Senator has no idea what is son is facing tonight.
(Trevor) Never mind. I've got his back for you, Mr. President. I'll let him know you're here.
(Senator) Thank you, Trevor.
And with that, the sucking up of Trevor Cunning ends and he exits the room, presumably to go find his friend Keith.
Sebastian Hawke vs. Ashley Collier
The match starts and Hawke locks up with Collier. Ashley whips him into the ropes, but Hawke returns with a back elbow to the face of Collier. Ashley falls to the mat and lays there holding his face. Hawke lifts Collier to his feet and bodyslams him. Collier now clutches his back in pain. Hawke lifts Collier to his feet again, but Collier elbows him in the ribs. Hawke stumbles and tries to lift him up again. Collier again elbows Hawke and stands up. He runs into the ropes and returns with a bulldog. Hawke’s face is driven into the mat. Hawke rolls out of the ring and circles it for a minute while staring at a smiling Ashley Collier. Collier attempts a baseball slide, but Hawke moves. Collier lands on his feet and attempts to clothesline Hawke. Hawke ducks and Collier ends up driving his own arm into the steel post. Collier is now clutching his arm as Hawke climbs back into the ring. Collier, with his arm to his side, climbs into the ring. Hawke dropkicks him in his bad arm. Collier falls to the mat, still holding his arm and screaming in agony. Hawke goes for the pin.
1…
2…
Collier barely kicks out before three. Hawke looks around in disgust, he really felt he had him beat there. He circles around as Ashley staggers to his feet, getting behind him just as Collier gets to a knee and rushes forward with a Yakuza kick to the side of the head. He quickly drops back down and hooks the leg.
1…
2…
Again Collier escapes defeat by mere seconds. Hawke is upset with himself now and climbs the turnbuckle this time. Collier is starting to get to his feet as Hawke leaps into the air. Collier leaps through the ropes just in time to avoid an axe handle smash. A loud crash is heard outside of the ring and it turns out that as Ashley dove through the ropes, his foot got caught on the rope and he smashed face first into the floor. Hawke is on the ground inside of the ring holding his knee, because as he landed his knee buckled. Both men are down as the referee begins to count.
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
6…
Hawke rolls out of the ring and limps over to Collier. He lifts Collier to his feet and pushes him back into the ring. He climbs the apron and Collier is back up. He grabs Hawke around the neck and suplexes him to the inside of the ring. They are both down again. Collier rolls on top of Hawke for the cover.
1…
2…
Hawke places his leg on the ropes at the last second. The referee sees this and stops the count. Collier stands up and walks around, agitated that he didn’t win. He starts to climb the turnbuckle, but stumbles a bit. This gives Hawke enough time to get up. He runs to the corner and delivers a belly to back suplex on Collier that sends him flailing into the center of the ring. Hawke begins to crawl over to Ashley and covers him for the pin.
1…
2…
Collier rolls over to avoid the loss. Hawke stands up and begins to circle Collier as he regains his bearings. Collier backs up right into a German suplex, but as Hawke sets it up, Collier kicks backwards and nails Hawke with a low blow. Hawke falls back and bounces off of the ropes. He stumbles forward and Collier kicks him in the gut. He wraps his arm around Hawke’s neck and goes for a DDT. Suddenly, Hawke wraps his arm around Ashley's waist and uses all of his strength to lift Collier up onto his shoulder, before adjusting his arms around his knees and smashing Collier's back down onto the canvas with authority.
What that means is that he hit 'The Recoil', his finisher.
1…
2…
3…
Sebastian Hawke’s arm is raised high in the air by the referee, and Ashley Collier can barely believe what just happened. Hawke rolls out of the ring and gives his father, who was sitting ringside, a hug, and the two walk up to the back.
Collier, always a good sportsman (pfft), gets on the house microphone, obviously to congratulate Hawke, right? Wrong.
(Collier) Hey Hawke… that’s right I’m talking to you darkie… This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Enjoy your victory for now, because I’m not through with you. If it wasn’t for this incompetent referee here, I would have had this match in the bag ages ago. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.
Hawke, who stopped to listen to that babble, waves Collier off and continues up the ramp with his father and into the back.
Collier becomes even more visibly frustrated as the referee tells him he needs to leave. For a moment he acts like he’s going to comply, but really he’s just buying time to reach into his trunks and pull out his brass knuckles, which he slides on, then turns and knocks the referee the fuck out.
Collier raises his arms up in celebration of his extraordinary act until his party is interrupted by Commissioner Buchanan and the security force headed by McJohnson.
(Buchanan) So that’s how it’s going to be Collier? You lose a match fair and square and you strike an official for it with your brass knuckles? Not on my watch. Get the hell out of my building before I have you forcibly removed.
Collier knows he can’t take that entire security force on, so he decides to exit through the crowd instead to leave on his own terms.
(Tom) Collier was clearly screwed!
(JB) Collier was clearly not. He lost fair and square and he just won’t admit it, and apparently, neither will you. He’s lucky Buchanan didn’t suspend him for that choice word he used to describe Sebastian Hawke, and for punching a referee!
A: D.E.M.O.N.
The scene opens back up to the sky box that Senator Owens is residing in for the evening. He is once more sitting on that same couch, reading the same copy of the Wall Street Journal. The door opens, and this time it's Keith Owens who enters, wearing a Trust Fund Kids t-shirt and his in-ring trunks.
The Senator doesn't get up to greet him.
(Keith) Father.
The Senator looks up from his paper, then slowly folds it up and tosses it on the coffee table.
(Senator) Take a seat Keith.
He motions for Keith to sit down on the couch adjacent to him.
(Senator) I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind right now, but something has happened that you need to be aware of.
Keith looks puzzled.
(Keith) And why is that?
(Senator) Because it involves you Keith.
(Keith) You know, I'm supporting your bid for the Presidency, but I'm staying out of your way with your campaign. Why are you dragging me back into this?
The Senator gets an angered look on his face.
(Senator) I'm not dragging you back into anything. You're already involved son. Think back to two years ago. Since then, that experiment continued and things got a little chaotic. My men are doing damage control right now, but you need to watch out your back when I'm not around because I can't run for President with a son gone missing.
(Keith) What are you talking about?
The Senator reaches into his suit jacket inside pocket and pulls out a small reporter's style notepad. He grabs a pen off the table and scribbles something on the pad. He rips out the page he wrote on and slides it face down across the coffee table to Keith.
(Senator) It's only five letters Keith... and it's out of our control now.
Keith cautiously picks up the paper and reads whatever it is his father just wrote down. His heart looks like it nearly stopped. His face goes pale. Keith Owens is experiencing a emotional hit known as pure shock and absolute fear.
Owens stands up and crumples the paper a bit, tucking it into his tights, then turns and exits the room in dead cold silence.
The Senator releases a heavy sigh.
Fade out.
(Tom) Five letters? C-U-P-C-A-K-E-S?
(JB) No… and that’s more than five letters Tom…
(Tom) Don’t tell me how to count!
Finding Blake
Cut. We're in the hallways backstage. The Goods, accompanied by Twitch, are making their way toward the Cougar Position for their match. Spaz, Slush and Ammo are clearly focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, Twitch is rather distracted. That is, until he sees Rick Priestly approaching, from the direction of the parking lot.
It's not particularly Priestly that catches Twitch's attention, but rather, what Rick has in his hand. A large dark red towel.
(Twitch) Blake!
The Goods keep walking, as Twitch takes a minor detour to snatch the towel out of Priestly's hand. Twitch berates Rick.
(Twitch) Twitch doesn't know what Beastly's up to... But if Beastly goes anywhere near Blake Bouchard again, and those fifty cheeseburgers a day will be coming through a tube!
Twitch drapes the towel over his shoulders and heads off to catch up with The Goods. Rick Priestly is clearly quite confused.
(Rick) Who's Blake Bouchard?
And back to ringside.
Keith Owens (TT) vs. Hush (w/ Essex)
Buried Alive Match
The lights go out completely in the arena. After about one second, the opening riff of Spineshank’s “Fallback” are heard. The riff is quickly joined by the rest of the band as some small white lights around the balcony edges turn on. As the drums rapidly crescendo, the entrance ramp lights up with white lights starting from the bottom and working their way up to the very top.
(JB) We haven't heard this music in a while.
(Tom) How often does Keith Owens fly solo without the rest of the Trust Fund Kids?
(JB) Not often Bear, not often.
Keith Owens stands at the top of the ramp with the Tag Team Championship strapped firmly around his waist. As Spineshank continues to shred the intro of this song, stands still with his hands around his waist, staring dead ahead at the ring. White and gold fireworks are shot straight up in the air to the left and right of him on the ramp with the pounding of the drums, ending with the fireworks doing a shower effect.
(JB) In 2005, Keith Owens main evented Oblivion in this very arena facing off against David Kurresh, and I don't think I've seen him look this serious or determined since then.
(Tom) He didn't even notice the fireworks!
The first verse kicks in and pulsating white and orange lights attack the crowd as the champion begins his descent down the ramp.
Give me faith
Give me something to see
Keith ignores the crowd, like usual, only this time it's not all jeers for the former Foundation Heavyweight Champion. He continues to stare ahead at a ring that is completely pitch black, but he knows inside of that ring, he'll have to partake in the biggest fight of his life.
Give me change
Give me somewhere to be
At about halfway down the ramp, the Owens takes the Tag Team Championship off from around his waist and holds it in his hand.
Give me hate
Tell me what to believe
I don't care who you're imitating
As the first verse ends, Keith stands at the bottom of the ramp, where the entire darkened ring becomes illuminated with a giant spotlight.
(Troy) The following match is a Buried Alive Match! Making his way to the ring, from Springfield, Illinois, weighing in at two hundred and twenty three pounds, he is one half of the NAFW Tag Team Champions… The Difference Maker... KEITH OWENS!
In truth it's really ending
My disillusioned mind
Is wasting away
Upon hearing his introduction, Keith places the title belt on the apron under the bottom rope. He then puts a knee on the apron and pulls himself to a standing position and enters over the middle rope.
(JB) Owens has nothing but his game face on tonight. One can’t help to wonder if his mind is going to be too much on Melissa Hayes in critical condition in the hospital, or if he’ll just want to punish Hush for the damage he’s done?
Until I bend
Until I fall back on my faith again
The young champion picks his tag team championship title off the mat. This is where he’d normally step up onto the middle turnbuckle in one of the corners, holding the Foundation’s tag team prize over his head for all to see as the white and orange lights continue to pulse and the flashbulbs go off like crazy. But tonight, there’s no showmanship from Keith Owens
(Tom) I’ve been a big supporter of Owens, but I’m not sure he has what it takes to get it done tonight. He can win Chain Reactions, he can win Three Wishes… But can he really bury Hush alive in that grave? Stryker put him down for a ten count and he rose to his feet to torment Owens all month. It seems unthinkable that Owens can actually bury the big man alive.
Is caving in
Until I fall back on my faith again
Finally, Spineshank’s “Fallback” begins to fade out and the lights in the arena return to normal. Owens stares straight ahead at the grave and dirt to the side of the entrance ramp as he awaits Hush to make his entrance.
A clusterfuck of drum and bass begin to thunder and all of the lights in the arena mysteriously tint to a sickly shade of gray, as Trent Reznor's voice pierces through the boos and jeers from the crowd, reciting the lyrics to his song “The Line Begins to Blur.”
A video trailer featuring a mammoth-sized individual sporting a leather trenchcoat rolls on the ol' NAFWTron, as the lights outlining the screen begin flashing blindingly white lights.
The 6-foot-eleven-inch monstrosity with but one name, Hush, stepped out and through the NAFW curtains, basically blowing them backwards with his imposing size as he makes his way to the top of the entry ramp. Hush is not alone., as he accompanied by Aleister Essex. Hush, masked, dressed in black wrestling tights, a black tank-top, and a leather trench coat, pauses with his manager at the top of the ramp, met with the jeers of the crowd.
(JB) Aliester Essex pleased to be out here tonight.
(Tom) He’s here to prove Hush is the best in this business, and burying Owens is a good way to make that statement.
Hush and Essex make their way down their ramp and enter the ring, Hush over the top rope and Essex up the steps and through the middle rope.
(Troy) Ladies and gentlemen, in the ring, from parts unknown, standing six feet eleven inches tall, being accompanied by his handler Essex is the monster….. HUSHHHHHH!
Essex removes Hush’s trench coat and exits the ring as the house lights return to normal.
(JB) Hold on to your seat Bear, because I feel like we’re about to see something we’ve never seen before!
(Tom) One of two of the greatest wrestlers out there today will be buried alive. It’ll be a sight to see!
Keith Owens and Hush stare down in the middle of the ring, with the anticipation growing around them. The referee steps in between the middle of the two of them and tells them something, hopefully not to have a good clean fight because this is a Buried Alive Match and anything goes. The referee backs away and rings the bell. Hush lunges at his opponent looking to grab him, but Keith ducks out of the way. Hush lunges again, and Keith slips out of his grasps once more. Finally, Hush attempts to grapple him for a third time, but Owens counters with the Asian mist to the face! Hush is blinded through his eye holes! As the monster grabs his face, Owens starts to deliver a barrage of low kicks to Hush’s legs. After all, that’s the classic way to bring the big man down to his feet. Keith hits a low drop kick to Hush’s left knee and brings the giant down as he still is trying to wipe the mist out of his eyes. Owens runs off the ropes and elevates off the knee of Hush, but the monster blocks the shining wizard step kick attempt with his massive forearms. Owens goes tumbling back as the big man rises to his feet. He walks over to Owens who scurries himself on his behind into the corner. The corner is still no way out as Hush grabs a hold of the ropes and begins to stomp mud holes into Owens. The referee tries to pull Hush back, but he gets tossed to the mat.
(Tom) Why do we even need a ref out here? This match is going to be what it is… a slaughter!
(JB) And this might very well be a slaughter for Keith Owens unless he figures out a strategy for beating this monster that’s literally ripping into him right now.
Essex yells at Hush from outside of the ring to hoist up Owens and prop him up in the corner. Hush does what he’s told and follows orders then begins to lay his giant ham sized fists into Owens face. Keith works up the strength begin blocking the punches, so Hush responds by wrapping his hands around his neck and begins to choke out the Grand Slam Champion. Owens flails trying to pull Hush’s massive hands off his neck for a few moments until Hush picks up Owens and flings him out of the corner and across the ring. Owens grabs his neck as he rolls on the mat, then under the bottom rope and onto the floor below. Hush slowly stalks after him and Essex goes around to the outside where Owens lies trying to regroup. He barks more commands at Hush then points to Owens on the ground below. Hush steps over the top rope and slowly drops to the floor below where he drags up Owens by the hair. Essex instructs Hush to hold Owens back, and the big man does so with a full nelson hold. Looks around at the crowd who are jeering him, then spits right in Owens face. He yells at him for disrespecting Hush, then slaps him across the face.
(JB) It looks like Essex is sending a message loud and clear to the former Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
(Tom) What message is that Mannhole?
(JB) What kind of message does one send with spitting and slapping?
(Tom) I don’t know, but your mom seemed to like it!
(JB) Why I oughta…
Still in the full nelson hold, Hush turns back towards the ring and slams Owens’ face into it. Keith emerges with a bloodied nose! Still trapped in that full nelson, Hush swings Owens into the steel steps. Essex commands him to stomp Owens’ head into the steal. Hush backs up then charges at Owens but Owens ducks and rolls out of the way. Hush kicks the top layer of the steps over and then stumbles. Owens uses the guard rail to pull himself up, then runs and charges at Hush, grabbing him by the back of his head bandaging and bulldogging him over the lower portion of the steps. Owens lands on his knees and slowly gets up to his feet as Hush rolls onto his back. The tag team champion wipes his face with his hand and sees the blood, but then brushes it off as he’s obviously got a match to fight.
(Tom) We’ve struck first blood!
(JB) It’s not every day that we get someone bleeding from the nose. For all we know, Hush could have broken Owens’ nose!
(Tom) Eh, it could have used some plastic reconstructive surgery anyway.
The Difference Maker gets to his feet and pulls himself into the ring. As Hush lays prone on the outside, Owens begins his assent up the turnbuckles. He tries to catch his balance on the top rope, but Aleister Essex gets up onto the apron and shakes the ropes, protecting his monster from further attack. Owens gets crotched, then falls over to the outside on top of the remaining portions of the steel steps! Essex barks more orders at Hush, and this time the monster sits straight up, Undertaker-style of course, and then gets back onto his feet. Once more he drags Owens up by the hair. He lifts Owens up in a reverse positioned guerrilla press, then drops Owens back first on the crowd barrier! Owens back must have snapped! Hush wastes no time continuing to dominate Owens and lays several heavy chops into his chest. Hush then drags Owens by the arm and Irish whips him back into the side of the ring, further injuring that back of Owens. The young superstar riffles around under the ring apron, unbeknownst to Hush. Hush bends over to pick up Owens to keep dishing out the pain, but the cunning superstar gets pulled up with a fluorescent light tube in his hand! He takes one swing and the tube explodes right across the eyes of Hush!
(JB) Owens answers back for that targeting on his back!
(Tom) Fluorescent light tubes for the win! What is this? 2004? Is Street Style back?
(JB) I wouldn’t go that far, but it seems Keith is reaching deep into his bag of tricks looking for a way to take down Hush.
(Tom) Trevor Cunning took glass to the eye from smashing Hush with glass, perhaps this is payback from Owens for that.
(JB) We all know Cunning was faking that glass in his eye, Tom!
With Hush blinded again, Owens takes this opportunity to try and mount some offense to wear the big man down enough. He throws left and rights furiously, but it does no good. Keith figures out a way to stall longer when he goes downstairs hits Hush with a lowblow on his grapefruits! Essex goes to check on his monster while Owens heads around the ring to the time keeper’s table. He forces Troy Gilmore out of his seat and folds up the steel chair. He walks over to where Hush is still trying to clear the broken light out of his eyes with Essex. Essex sees Owens coming and tries to tell Hush to get ready, but Hush has no idea where his opponent is. Essex ducks back and Owens drills Hush square in the head. We all know Hush, and we know that won’t do a damn thing, so Owens continues to drill him. Not once, not twice, not three times. It takes a total of seven chair shots to the head of Hush before he’s out cold and the chair is dented beyond the point of use. As he lies slumped over the guard rail, Owens gets on it too from several feet back. The tag team champion runs and jumps, landing a big leg drop across the throat of Hush, and landing himself in the first row. The fans help Owens up to his feet. He grabs one of their steel chairs and climbs back over the railing. He pulls it back to swing again but Essex grabs the chair! Owens lets go of the chair and gives Essex a stare of disbelief for getting involved in the match yet again. Owens gives Essex a Hogan-eque “You!” finger point. Hulking up will do no good here though, because Essex tosses the chair at Owens’ face. The superstar blocks it, and then gets really angry as Essex tries to back up the ramp. Owens gives chase with a brisk walk, which turns into a sprint as soon as Essex begins to run. Owens catches him by the back of his shirt and pulls him around. He pleads with Owens not to do anything, but the Difference Maker wastes no time in clotheslining him right down onto the ramp. He quickly drags Essex up, knees him in the gut, and then tosses him over the side of the ramp onto the unforgiving concrete floor below!
Cue the Holy Shit chant from the crowd!
(JB) Owens has had enough! Essex got what was coming to him!
(Tom) You think he would have learned a thing or two after those piledrivers from Stryker at the last Pay Per View, but perhaps Essex is just a trooper!
(JB) Essex isn’t much of anything right now! He’s not moving on that concrete floor. Now he knows the pain that Melissa Hayes must have felt!
(Tom) Jeez JB, you’re not going to make a plea for some EMTs?
(JB) Essex can burn in hell for all I care Bear!
Owens takes a peak at his work as Aliester Essex lays still some fifteen feet below the stage area. He turns to the other side of the stage where the giant pit and a mound of dirt are – the resting place of either him or Hush. Owens returns down to ringside where Hush has begun to stir and the effects of Owens’ old buddy the fluorescent light tube have worn off. He begins to lay the lefts and the rights into Hush before he levels him back down with a massive DDT. Owens starts looking under the ring for another weapon when Hush does yet another sit-up and no-sell. Apparently seven steel chair shots to the skull did only temporary damage. Very temporary. Hush gets back up to his feet and him and Owens grapple. Somehow, Owens manages to slip from the front grapple into a back grapple… but there’s not much he can do once he’s there. Hush uses all of his momentum and runs himself backwards – straight into the ring post, of which Owens takes the brunt of the damage on his back. Hush looks around the ringside area for Essex, but can’t seem to find him. He doesn’t let this distract him for too much longer as Hush immediately picks up Owens and locks him in a giant bear hug, applying extra pressure with his hands into the back of Owens. Hush slowly begins to walk, with Owens in the bear hug, around the ring and up the ramp. Owens tries to fight the crushing feeling but his fists do little to faze the big man. Hush manages to work his way with Owens to the area to the side of the ramp with the six foot deep hole and a giant mound of dirt with a nice flat head shovel planted firmly in that mound of dirt.
(JB) The strength of that monster never ceases to amaze me! Not only does he have Owens in that bear hug, but he’s walking with that death grip around Owens!
(Tom) This looks bad for Owens. Really bad,
(JB) You don’t say.
Hush stands over the hole with Owens going limp. The referee, who has done much of nothing this match since anything goes, gets in position to see if Owens, will in fact, be buried alive. With his arms having gone limp, Hush drops Owens into the hole. Hush, somewhat confused about why the match isn’t over yet and lost without the direction of Essex, stares at the referee. The referee tries to explain to him that he needs to start actually shoveling dirt over Owens. But by the time Hush picks up the shovel, Owens is already clawing his way out of the dirt. Hush tries to react by swinging the shovel at Owens, but Owens drops back into the hole to avoid the attack, then grabs onto the shovel, allowing Hush to pull him out of the hole by accident. Once out of the hole, Owens desperately kicks the shovel out of the monster’s hands, then scrambles a good ten feet away from the hole to avoid ending up back in there. Hush comes after him, and Owens gives him a standing drop kick that hurts Owens’ back on the drop more than it hurt Hush on the kick. Owens slowly gets on his hands and knees and Hush looks to drop his fists like a hammer across his back, but Owens rolls out of the way and right onto the pile of dirt, as if he wasn’t already filthy enough.
(Tom) Owens barely survives!
(JB) Hush was somewhat lost without Essex around. Let’s see if he can get his composure and finish this match without his handler now that Owens has another lease on life!
Owens grabs the shovel that he had previously kicked out of Hush’s hand and heads back over to Hush. He wastes no time slamming the shovel across Hush’s back, giving him a little tit to tat. But much like the chair shots Owens delivered earlier, the Difference Maker doesn’t back down. He keeps swinging multiple times at the back of Hush until the big man is beaten down flat on his stomach. He kicks Hush and rolls him over, then smashes the shovel flat across the masked face of Hush! He pounds it once! Twice! Three times! Four! Owens is going berserk. He reaches down and grabs the skull mask that Hush wears on his face and rips it off!
(Tom) Hush is unmasked!
(JB) His face is still covered with those bandages Bear. We’re not seeing much right now.
(Tom) Do we really want to see what’s under that mask?
(JB) That’s what I said when I was with YOUR mom Tom!
(Tom) …
Owens takes a good long look at the mask before he throws it to the side and raises up the shovel again, smashing it down one more time on Hush’s face. The bandages that conceal the big man’s face begin to turn crimson as he starts gushing profusely under the bandages. Owens drops the shovel on the floor and begins the daunting task of pulling Hush up onto his feet. He keeps him in a reverse headlock then positions him over the face of a shovel. Owens calls for the Difference Maker, but as he twists on the move, Hush pushes him off and Owens slips on the dirt and falls on his back. Hush feels his face and the literal crimson mask he’s not wearing. He looks around frantically for his mask but can’t seem to locate where Owens tossed it. After a few moments, his intuition tells him to at least focus on the match at hand, and he goes back to targeting Keith. The brief search for the mask bought Keith some time, and he charges at Hush. However, the behemoth catches Keith in his charge and delivers a huge Echoes in Eternity, aka a black hole slam! Owens lands a mere inches from the hole and is writhing in pain, clearly favoring his destroyed back. Hush looks up and sees his spinning side slam didn’t quite land Owens in the pit.
(JB) MY GAWD! Crimson soaked bandages and all, Hush managed to not only get up, but hit Owens with the Echoes of Eternity!
(Tom) You could probably shoot Hush and it wouldn’t take the monster down!
(JB) That slam missed its mark by inches though. Hush is only moments away from winning this match.
Hush slowly climbs to his feet again for the umpteenth time tonight and picks up Owens by his filthy hair. With Hush’s back to the stage, the monster picks up Owens with both hands around the neck, seemingly looking for a chokebomb into the hole.
(Tom) Do you hear that JB?
(JB) What are you talking about Tom?
(Tom) Look!
Immediately in the background, the sound of screeching tires can be heard. Parts of the set begin to collapse and boxes and tables go flying to the sides. It’s a car, specifically a Range Rover SUV, and its coming right toward Hush and Owens. The driver slams on the breaks, but its too late! He strikes Hush with Owens up in the choke hold! Hush goes flying into the hole, and Owens goes flying with him but barely overshoots the pit because of the force of the impact! The car screeches to a halt literally inches away from the grave that Hush now lies in. The crowd is going absolutely apeshit.
Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!
But that’s not all. Those chants are intermixed with chants of the company’s name.
N-A-F-Dub! N-A-F-Dub! N-A-F-Dub!
(JB) OH MY GOD! Hush has just been hit by a car!
(Tom) In all my years behind this announce table, I’ve never seen something like THAT!
The crowd, and the referee, ponder just who that driver was for only a moment as the driver side door opens, and Trevor Cunning collapses out of the drivers seat, drunk with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in hand!
(Tom) Trevor Cunning saves the day for Keith Owens!
Cunning pulls himself to his feet, not forgetting his bottle of Jack either, and walks over to Owens, who barely survived that wreck himself. Cunning picks up the shovel and helps Owens to his feet. Keith gives him a look of absolute disbelief at what he just did. He looks down in the grave at Hush who lies completely still, six feet under. Owens looks up at Cunning again, shaking his head, and with some reluctance, begins to shovel the dirt on top of Hush. After several shovels, the ref calls for the bell long distance.
(Troy) Ladies and gentlemen, your winner… KEITH…. OWENS!
Owens stabs the shovel into dirt as the “gravedigger” staff members come around and finish shoveling the dirt on top of the monster. Owens paces up the ramp for a bit, continuously looking back Cunning who is slumped over and nearly passed out on the pile of dirt.
(JB) I’m not sure if saves the day was the right word. Owens seems less than pleased with that “assist” from Cunning.
Keith Owens walks down the ramp and back to the side area, where he picks up the mask of Hush. He takes one good hard look at it before he tosses it on top of the nearly completed grave. He shakes his head at Cunning one more time, but exchanges no words, and simply walks back up the ramp as his music plays on.
(Tom) That match would have been over if it wasn’t for Cunning!
(JB) We don’t know that for sure. It was close for Owens all along, but what else would you expect when he faced HUSH? Owens went through a lot in that match and still could have pulled it out on his own. Cunning cheapened his win when he had no business being there in the first place.
(Tom) Hey, maybe he was just sticking by the side of his fellow Trust Fund Kid!
(JB) Yeah, because he’s been so good about doing that in the past~!
(Tom) Whatever JB. Act like you know Trevs.
The Plot Thickens...Part II
The Madison Square Garden goes pitch black once again, catching everyone off guard as the buzz of the NAFW crowd picks up.
(JB) Aw, man…not again.
(Tom) You know the last time this happened…this didn’t bode to well for our Foundation Champion…<
(JB) I think my stomach just hit the floor
[Static.]
(Voiceover) The following is a paid advertisement by a certain that at the time wishes to remain anonymous for obvious legal and finical reasons. The views and opinions expressed during this time aren’t solely those of the NAFW, TNT, or any of their affiliates.
The NAFW-Tron cuts from static to July 3, 2007, Annihilation 12:
From the darkness shines a bright beacon – illuminating the lost like a lighthouse in an ocean bay at midnight.
The monk who burned himself to death to make a political statement – it took months of intense therapy for this man to tune out the pain – the smell – the involuntary reaction flame inspires in flesh.
Leonard Aarons has not undergone this same process. His introduction to pyromania – to flesh burning, to blood boiling because of the heat, to air igniting in his lungs… was sudden, immediate, unexpected.
“You think it was Mike Stryker?”
“Or maybe you think it was Trevor Cunning?”
“Or maybe it was someone who’d you never expect? Hmmm…I do believe we may be onto something here.”
The crowd instantly turns to boos; rather loud and earth-shattering boos as the NAFW continues to loop the footage of the Foundation Champion Leonard Aarons being set ablaze over and over and over again as the lights of Madison Square Garden come up to a light dim. From the back, the masked stranger in black steps from behind the curtain with his security detail in tow. He brought his microphone as the three men slowly make their way towards the NAFW ring. A few empty beer cups or some other random trash was tossed through the crowd towards the steel ramp, missing the masked man by a few inches. The two men climb the steel diamond plated steps as they open the ropes for their client, who steps inside taking his place in the middle of the ring.
(JB) Oh no…this couldn’t be yet –another- suspect?
(Tom) I don’t see why not? Hell, at this rate everyone’s suspect…even you Mann-Hole!
(JB) I highly doubt that…
(Tom) Well, we’ll let the FBI determine your innocence.
(JB) I was sitting right next to you.
“On July 3…Leonard Aarons got what he deserved.”
Just more boos.
“I watched that man for years…destroy lives…destroy careers…destroy dreams…crush hopes…demolish families…and smother all that is decent in a man. And now, Leonard Aarons suffered one of the most painful things that someone can physically do to another without killing him.”
His security detail takes their post next to him, holding their hands behind their back as the masked stranger, holding his briefcase in one hand and the microphone in the other.
“Leonard Aarons was set on fire in the middle of ring in front of all his ‘supposed’ fans and over a million viewers at home one what should’ve been a glorious night for him, what should’ve been the culmination of all of his hard work to appreciate the new Foundation Heavyweight Champion. But now we’re investigating the assault or the possible murder of your beloved Leonard Aarons. What a shame and my-my-my how far have we fallen from grace.”
He sets the briefcase down next to him as he slowly makes his way towards the ropes. He stares right into camera, as if he was speaking the Leonard Aarons himself.
“Something bothers me, you know I wonder if Leonard saw this coming…I wonder if he knew that the crown, he worked so hard to earn, was going to be –this- heavy. I wonder if he understands that there are so many people gunning for him now that, he can’t trust anyone…not even his trusty guard dog, Zo. But you know this isn’t about that gold-plated belt that he has. To be honest, I could care two squirt of dog piss about the FHC. This goes a little deeper than that. But anyone more would give my little surprise away. Leonard has made a lot of enemies over the years who would love to do nothing more but to simply inflict the same pain he’s inflicted on so many others.”
“So I guess the question becomes…who did it?”
He simply chuckles through his black mask as he reaches down picking up the briefcase. He hands it to the man on the left as he opens the case slowly and reaches in pulling a 10x12 glossy of the former FHC Trevor Cunning. He holds it up, receive a few boos as he looks over the picture slightly.
“Well…you have Trevor Cunning, who had motive yet no opportunity even though he’s the one who put this Great Ball of Fire in motion, excuse the pun.”
Reaching in again as drops the picture of Cunning on the floor, he pulls out a 10x12 glossy of the current NAFW Atlantic Champion in Mike Stryker.
“Then you have Mike Stryker, the Atlantic Champion, who came to save the day but instead is caught red-handed with the ignition factor in his hand. In a court of law, I’m sorry to say that Mr. Stryker would be serving 25 years to life for something of this magnitude.”
He drops the photograph to the ring canvas and points to himself
“Then you have this mysterious stranger, myself, and for future references, I’ll call myself Mr. Black. A rather prominent figure in the Champ’s past, which has a major chip on his shoulder a mean streak that’s twice as big. Leonard has taken something from me that no amount of money or any title match can ever give me again…and for that, I will make sure that I make his life a living hell…by any means necessary. But did I do it? Oh no…I didn’t do a damn thing, just like Cunning and Stryker, I’m totally innocent until proven guilt...just like the other two. Granted...I have motive...but frankly, I’m just a person of interest who wants to shed some light or a rather sticky situation.”
Mr. Black continues to reach in to the briefcase, pulling a full bottle of Jack Daniels and a plush toy lion dropping it in front of his feet.
(Mr. Black) “So where does that leave up? Three paths that lead to the same place…and the one person who is in the middle of a isn’t the victim at all, just a huge prick who had it coming to him and who has a lot comeuppance headed in his direction before it’s all said and done. But this goes out to our champion who I’m sure if fuming and chomping at the bit to get back to find that horrible bastard who did this to him.”
Reaching into his pocket, Mr. Black pulls out a silver Zippo lighter as he unscrews the cap off of the bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and slowly starts to saturate the plush lion with the copper colored liquor.
(Mr. Black) “Everything comes full circle, Leonard. And now matter how far or high how your star goes, there is always someone watching and waiting for the single moment to show you that you’re not as invincible as you like think and all it takes is a strike of a match…”
Emptying the entire bottle Mr. Black set it down as he flicks the Zippo lighter open.
(Mr. Black) “…and every thing around you goes up in flames.”
He drops the Zippo lighter as the lands in the puddle of Jack Daniels, setting the toy lion on fire in a rather nice yet small ball of flames. Mr. Black takes a step back as the lights dim completely once again, allowing the bright glow of the fire shine in the darkness.
The Goods (Spaz, Slush, & Ammo) vs. The Old School Empire (Mike Lane, Shane, & Dustin Thomas)
(JB) There's a lot at stake in this next match, Bear. After the ring crew cleans up the mess Mr. Black just made.
(Tom) Damn right, Mannwagon! Spaz spent a lot of money on...
(JB) I'm not talking about robots, Bear!
(Tom) How did you know I was going to mention...
(JB) Because it's all you seem to talk about when The Goods are involved!
(Tom) Right. Good point.
(JB) What I meant was that the winning "captain" if you will, gets sole control of the Wish that Lane and Spaz earned in Three Wishes. Not to mention the serious personal issues at the heart of this conflict!
(Tom) I can't wait to see Mike Lane get what he deserves tonight.
(JB) Oddly enough, I agree with you on that Bear, but I think we mean it differently.
The opening chords of Metallica's "Sad But True" rock the arena, and the fans in attendance don't waste any time getting their boo on. The lights have dropped, leaving a single spotlight on the entrance way. As the intro finishes up, the lights drop completely out except for a single name on the NAFW-Tron.
Mike Lane.
As the lyrics kick in, three figures emerge from behind the curtain. Lane, flanked by Shane and Dustin Thomas stand atop the ramp for a moment, drinking in the crowd's negative reaction. They descend the ramp slowly, but with a purpose, revelling in the jeers and curses of the fans as they pass.
(Troy) Introducing first, at a combined weight of seven hundred and eighty-five pounds... Mike Lane and The Thomas Brothers... The Old... School... Empire!!
When they reach the ring, Lane pulls himself up onto the apron at the middle of the ring, while the Thomas brothers veer off and do the same at adjacent corners. The three men step inside the ring simultaneously, then pose briefly, before settling into the far corner.
(Tom) The Old School Empire is all business tonight, Mannwheel!
(JB) They're going to have to be, as far as I'm concerned. They've underestimated The Goods thus far, but I think they learned their lesson at Annihilation 14.
(Tom) That was just a warm-up. To give The Goods false hope. It's all part of the plan, Mann!
(JB) We'll see about that, Bear.
On that note, the lights in the arena dim again, but this time we're left with a dark red glow, accompanied by the rapid opening chords of "Riot" by Three Days Grace.
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one
So get up
On the climax of the word "up," bright red pyro explodes from the NAFWTron as four figures emerge onto the stage. We hit the chorus at this point.
Let's start a riot
Spaz leads the way down the ramp with Slush and Ammo on either side of him and Twitch (with Blake Bouchard draped around his neck and over his shoulders) following close behind.
Let's start a riot
(Troy) And now, at a combined weight of eight hundred and six pounds... Spaz, Slush and Ammo... The Goods!!
As the chorus repeats, taking Troy's introduction as their cue, The Goods take off at a run, charging the rest of the way down the ramp. Twitch hangs back, continuing to walk down at a normal pace. Spaz and Slush slide into the ring and are up on the turnbuckles in adjacent corners as Ammo steps up onto the apron and over the top rope. Slush and Spaz jump down as the music fades.
(JB) You'll note, Bear, that The Goods have only a slight combined weight advantage over The Empire.
(Tom) And all of it's in that fat-ass Ammo.
(JB) I assure you Bear, that's not fat on Ammo. He's as solid as a brick wall.
(Tom) Whatev.
In the ring, referee Jason Martin finishes giving the two teams their instructions for the match, before sending them to neutral corners. On one side, Mike Lane and Shane Thomas step out to the apron, leaving Dustin Thomas to start. On the other, The Goods opt to have Spaz begin this contest. Once Lane, Shane, Slush and Ammo are all out of the ring, Martin signals for the bell.
(JB) This opening pairing is the closest of the possible match-ups in this one, Bear. Dustin and Spaz are of a similar build, and use similar styles.
(Tom) I say again: Whatev.
(JB) Thank you once again for your enlightening insight.
(Tom) You got it, dude.
Let's break from Kalhoun channeling the Olsen twins, and get to some action. After circling cautiously for a moment, Spaz and Dustin lock up in the center of the ring. Dustin's slight height and weight advantage come into play, as he forces Spaz back to the ropes. Dustin Irish whips Spaz across the ring, and connects with a dropkick on the rebound. Before Spaz can get up, Dust pulls the Candy Man away from the center of the ring and toward The Empire's corner.
(Tom) Good call here by Dustin, keeping Spaz away from his team in the early-going.
(JB) The Thomas Brothers are certainly well versed in tag team strategy.
After laying a few boots to Spaz, Dustin tags out to Shane, who drops a few stomps of his own. Shane pulls Spaz to his feet, and shoves him into the corner. Lane and Dustin each grab an arm, while Shane drives his fists into Spaz's midsection. Referee Jason Martin intervenes, breaking up the illegal action. The momentary distraction is enough to allow Spaz to roll out of the corner, but the smaller man is caught by Shane before he can get too far. The Alpha promptly shoves Spaz back into the corner for another barrage, before tagging Dustin back in again.
(Tom) Looks like Spaz is getting into trouble off the top here.
(JB) If The Old School Empire manages to isolate Spaz for this entire contest, it could bode poorly for The Goods.
(Tom) Could, Mannequin? How about will?
Outside the ring, Twitch is swinging his towel around wildly, rallying the fans behind Spaz. Dustin pulls Spaz out of the corner and goes for another Irish whip, this time looking for a back body drop. Spaz leapfrogs over Dustin. Both men hit opposite ropes at the same time, and charge back at one another. Spaz ducks a clothesline attempt, then stops dead in his tracks and spins around. Dustin continues running, bounces back off the ropes again, and is caught in the center of the ring by a Samoan drop courtesy of Spaz.
Spaz quickly rolls into a lateral press and hooks a leg. Shane Thomas puts a foot into the ring, as does Slush in reaction to The Alpha... But before Jason Martin even hits the mat, Dustin has kicked out.
(Tom) Way too early for that.
(JB) Any energy spent on a kick out now is energy that can't be spent on something else later, Bear.
(Tom) This is wrestling, not rocket science.
Spaz, not wanting to give up his current advantage, locks on a single leg crab. This prompts Shane to enter the ring anyway, and Slush quickly follows. Shane charges Spaz and clubs him over the back, which breaks the hold. Slush jumps in an instant later, raining punches on The Alpha. Before all hell can break loose, Jason Martin - who, for those who forgot, is close to Shane Thomas in size - steps in and sends Slush and The Alpha back to their corners.
(JB) This is a volatile situation for Jason Martin to manage.
(Tom) If I were him, I'd just let 'em all go at it.
(JB) It may well come to that eventually, Bear.
Spaz pulls Dustin up and Irish whips him into a neutral corner. Spaz connects with a moonsault dropkick, then dashes over to The Goods corner and tags Slush in. Slush rushes across the ring and leaps, looking for a corner splash, but Dustin slips out of the way just before impact. Dust dives and rolls to his corner, tagging his brother back in. Shane pulls the same move that Slush just attempted, but still staggering from connecting with the turnbuckle, Slush is unable to avoid it.
(Tom) Shane delivers where Slush couldn't!
Shane follows up immediately with a powerslam out of the corner, into a cover. Martin's hand doesn't hit the ground twice before Slush kicks out. Shane continues the assault, whipping Slush to the ropes and catching him with a huge spinebuster. The Alpha covers again, this time getting a two count.
(Tom) Slush is getting into trouble now!
(JB) He's going to be looking for a tag at this point.
Indeed, he probably is... But Shane Thomas has other plans. He pulls Slush back over to The Empire's corner, tags in Dustin, then drops Slush to the mat with a body slam as Dust climbs to the top. Shane gets out of the ring and Dustin flies, landing a senton bomb on Slush. Dustin rolls over and goes for another cover.
(JB) This could be over before it really gets started!
(Tom) Not surprising.
(JB) Two... NO! Slush got a foot on the rope! Close call!
As Dustin gets up, Mike Lane reaches in and taps the younger Thomas Brother on the back. A blind tag, but not one of those "we're a team that's not getting along, so I'm going to tag myself in without you knowing, just to piss you off and take the glory" kind of things that Trevor Cunning would do. Nope, this is a simple "hey man, I'm gonna come in now, OK?"
And so Lane and Slush are our legal men. Lane steps in and drops a knee, Ric Flair style, on Slush's knee. Again. And again. Lane then pulls Slush's leg over the bottom rope and stomps as many times as he can before Jason Martin hits his five-count.
(JB) Lane is softening up Slush's leg, likely for the Old School figure four.
Lane switches gears now, pulling Slush up and applying an abdominal stretch. He holds it tight for while, occasionally grabbing the rope for extra leverage while The Thomas brothers distract the ref. On the apron, Spaz and Ammo call out in encouragement. Outside the ring, Twitch and Blake do what they can to fire up the crowd. Eventually, Slush summons the strength and flips Lane over with a hip toss. Slush quickly dives to the corner to bring Ammo into this contest for the first time.
(JB) Here comes the big man!
Ammo steps over the top rope and into the ring. Lane is up by this time, and heads immediately to his corner, tagging Shane Thomas is. Lane and The Alpha move to intercept Ammo, each grabbing a tree-like arm. They attempt to Irish whip Ammo, but his feet are planted and he's not going anywhere. Instead, with a jerk of his arms, Ammo sends both Lane and Shane to the ropes behind him. Without turning around, Ammo raises his arms and takes a forceful step back, and both of his opponents run chest-first into an Ammo elbow.
Martin gets Lane out of the ring, while Ammo pulls Shane up and into a bear hug. After squeezing some of the life out of Shane, Ammo slams The Alpha into the mat, and hooks a leg, getting a short two count. With Shane pinned to the ground, Ammo takes the five seconds that Jason Martin allows him to unleash a flurry of punches to Shane's midsection.
(JB) The Alpha's been caught in the Crossfire, Bear!
(Tom) He'll recover.
Ammo pulls Shane up and whips him to the ropes. Dustin Thomas reaches out and slaps his brother on the back as he hits the ropes. Another blind tag, this one of the "you're kind of getting your butt kicked at the moment, so I think I'm going to step in and take my shot" variety. Though, it's Shane's face that gets kicked immediately after the tag, not his butt, as Ammo feeds The Alpha a boot-sized snack. Meanwhile, Dustin has climbed to the top rope once again. He reaches down and tags Mike Lane, before leaping out with a dropkick at the unsuspecting Ammo. This staggers the Ammo somewhat, and before the big man can recover, Lane runs out from behind Ammo, bounces off the far ropes and launches a boot of his own in Ammo's direction.
(Tom) SHADOW KI...
(JB) Caught!! Good Gord, Ammo blocked the Shadow Kick and caught Lane's foot!
With a foot in his hands, Ammo steps forward and sweeps Lane's other leg out, sending him to the ground. Still holding the foot, Ammo drags Lane to The Goods corner and tags Slush in. Slush grabs Lane's other leg, and after a moment's pause, Lane cries out in pain as The Goods execute a wishbone leg-splitter. Slush and Ammo like to call this the Damaged Package.
(JB) Lane might be singing soprano for a while after tonight!
(Tom) This is not a joking matter! I'm in pain just seeing that!
(JB) How sensitive of you, Bear.
(Tom) If you had any ba...
The end of Tom's comment is drowned out by a rather substantial pop from the crowd. A tag has been made, and the pairing the fans have been waiting to see in this match has now come. Mike Lane and Spaz.
Spaz hits a couple of quick leg drops to Lane's bad knee, before hitting a standing Shooting Star press into a cover. Lane kicks out at two, and attempts to roll toward his own corner. Spaz keeps on him, dropping another couple of legs across Lane's knee. Spaz then takes one of Lane's legs in his hands, and begins a very familiar maneuver.
(JB) Spaz is going for the Sharpshooter!
Lane kicks out, preventing Spaz from applying the hold and knocking the Sugar Junky back. Lane rolls again, and this time pulls himself up. Before Spaz can make a further move, Lane waves to the Thomas Brothers on the outside. Shane and Dustin take this signal as their opportunity to make sure all hell breaks loose. Both brothers charge into the ring straight for Spaz. Slush and Ammo step in as well, and we're left with a free-for-all.
(Tom) Saw this coming.
(JB) That we did, Bear.
(Tom) Who said anything about "we" Mannlever?
It's pandemonium in the ring as all six men brawl, while Jason Martin attempts, futilely, to regain control. On the outside, Twitch has wrapped Blake Bouchard around his head, muttering something like "If Twitch can't see it, it can't see Twitch!" Back in the ring, Spaz takes a hard body slam from Shane. Lane lands a single-arm DDT on Slush. Ammo knocks both Lane and Shane down with a double clothesline. Dustin, having not learned his lesson last time, attempts a cross-body block on Ammo. Ammo catches Dustin and tosses him over the top rope to the outside.
And back on the outside again, Twitch chooses this moment to lift Blake up and peek at his surroundings... Just as a flying Thomas Brother is coming his way. Twitch cries out and dives left, barely avoiding Dustin, then promptly puts the towel back over his eyes and crawls into a corner of the guardrail.
(Tom) Why is Twitch even out here?
(JB) Just be glad he hasn't come to the announce table, Bear.
(Tom) Touché.
Order is now pretty well restored in the ring (for the time being), aside from the fact that Jason Martin's allowed Ammo and Shane to replace Spaz and Lane as the legal men. The two lock up in the middle of the ring, and Ammo takes control, pulling The Alpha up and dropping him with a sidewalk slam. Ammo hooks a leg, but Lane rushes in to break the pinning predicament. Martin gets Lane back out of the ring, and Ammo follows up with an elbow drop, and another pin attempt. This time, he gets a short two count.
Ammo grabs hold of Shane's legs, attempting to turn him over into the Shootout, an elevated Boston crab. Shane fights it, and Lane jumps in again, pounding Ammo across the back. Ammo turns his focus to Lane, and the two exchange punches. This brings Slush back into the ring again, and we're well on our way to another free-for-all. Dustin is up on the outside, and he slides back into the ring.
Twitch has removed Blake from his eyes, and is up on the far side of the ring. Dustin runs past the four men brawling, toward the opposite side of the ring. As he bounces off the ropes, Twitch wraps the towel around Dustin's feet, tripping the Thomas Brother up.
(Tom) What the hell?
(JB) Twitch did say that the towel played a role in his managing strategy.
(Tom) Since when do the "good guys" cheat?
(JB) He may be managing "good guys" Bear, but surely Twitch doesn't fit that term.
Spaz, who hadn't become involved in this latest melee, is now perched on the top rope, surveying the action. Lane and The Alpha are focused on battling Slush and Ammo, and don't see Spaz up there... Slush and Ammo spin Mike and Shane around, just as Spaz leaps in a cross-body block. Lane and Thomas react quickly, catching Spaz, spreading the impact between them. The stumble backward only slightly, but it's enough for them to walk right into Slush and Ammo. Slush clubs Lane across the back and Ammo does the same to Shane. They drop Spaz. Slush pulls Lane's head back and lands a reverse DDT, while Ammo grabs Shane from behind and connects with a release German Suplex.
Coming from behind this action, Dustin is up and races toward Slush as the Toronto native is getting to his feet. Dustin lands a sloppy bulldog, driving Slush face-first into the mat. Dustin flips Slush over and pins him, but Jason Martin doesn't count, as Ammo and Shane are still the legal men. Instead, Martin picks Dustin up (remember again, that Jason Martin is around the size of Shane Thomas or Mike Lane) and shoves the younger Thomas Brother back toward his team's corner. Martin then does the same to Slush, Lane and Spaz.
(JB) Jason Martin is intent on keeping some kind of control here, Bear.
(Tom) This is abuse of power!
(JB) He's acting fairly!
(Tom) Referees aren't supposed to be that big!
With order restored again, Shane promptly tags Mike Lane into the bout. They attempt to double-team Ammo again, and this time they successfully whip the big man into their corner. Shane hits a corner splash and steps out of the ring and Lane follows it immediately with a running clothesline. He then wraps Ammo's right arm around the top rope, and begins pummeling it with hard elbows.
(Tom) That's right, Mike! Take out his arms and Ammo's useless!
Lane tags Shane back in, and the two pull Ammo out of the corner, landing a double suplex. Shane immediately tags Dustin who scales the ropes and hits a 450 splash.
(JB) Fireball! Huge four-fifty splash on Ammo!
Dustin thinks about hooking the leg, but realizes he can't reach, and goes for a simple lateral press instead. After the two count, Ammo launches Dustin off of his chest, sufficiently breaking the pin. Ammo sits up Undertaker style, and gets to his feet. Dustin leaps into the air, hooking his legs around Ammo's neck, looking for a huricanrana. Dustin flips back, but doesn't have enough power or momentum to complete the maneuver. Ammo takes this opportunity to stand to his full height, lifting Dust back up, putting the Thomas Brother into a sitting position atop Ammo's shoulders. But Dustin isn't there for long, as Ammo immediately pushes Dustin off into a vicious Powerbomb.
(JB) Good Gord, Dustin's got to be broken in half!
Ammo pulls Dustin back up again, this time grabbing the young man by the throat.
(JB) This could be the Breakdown, folks!
That it could. But do you really think Shane and Mike are going to let that happen, JB? Not so much. Ammo does get Dustin up in the air, but before he can put him down, both Lane and The Alpha rush into the ring, Lane clubbing Ammo across the back, and Shane pulling Dustin back to their corner. The job done, Lane retreats as well. In The Goods' corner, Spaz is calling for a tag, and Ammo obliges. Meanwhile, Lane steps out of the ring only long enough to reach in and tag Dustin. As before, the crowd pops for the meeting of Lane and Spaz inside the ring.
(Tom) Now is Mike Lane's time to shine!
(JB) Or Spaz's time.
(Tom) Don't make me laugh Mannatee!
As if beginning a brand new match, Spaz and Lane circle one another, their eyes never breaking contact. Lane feints a left jab before moving in on his right, but Spaz reads it like a book and Lane backs off. Spaz throws a low roundhouse, which Lane scouts and easily avoids.
(JB) These two know eachother very well.
(Tom) Doesn't matter. Lane's bigger and better, stronger and smarter.
(JB) Spaz is no imbecile, Bear. And where Lane has the size and strength advantage, Spaz makes up for it with speed an ingenuity.
A point which is emphasized right now. Lane, growing impatient with the cat-and-mouse game, lunges forward, and Spaz quickly baseball slides under and past Lane, springing up behind. Spaz grasps Lane in a sleeper-like hold, but rather than going for a submission, Spaz jumps backward and brings Lane down to the mat back and head first with a sleeping neckbreaker. Spaz gets up and runs to the ropes, springing off with a Sweetsault. But Lane gets his knees up, and Spaz rolls off in pain.
(Tom) Your boy Spaz wasn't fast enough to avoid those knees, Mannhole!
Lane pulls himself to his feet, and stalks over to Spaz. Mike pulls Spaz up, only to put him back down to the mat with a snap suplex. As he did earlier with Slush, Lane now focuses on Spaz's legs, softening them up for the Old School figure four leglock.
(Tom) We're coming to the end now. You might want to look away.
After working on Spaz's legs for a while longer, Lane drags Spaz into the middle of the ring. He spins to apply Old School, but Spaz kicks him off, sending Lane to the ropes. Spaz jumps up as Lane is staggering with his back to Spaz. Spaz jumps, swinging around Lane and using the ropes for extra leverage, finally grabbing hold of Lanes head and dropping into a reverse DDT.
(JB) Spaz Out! Not so sure this is the end, Bear!
(Tom) Wait and see, Manngina.
Spaz goes for a quick cover, and gets a two count. He pulls Lane up to his feet, setting up the Sugar Rush... But Lane counters, hitting The Chaotix!
(Tom) Told you.
(JB) It's not over until the three count, Bear.
(Tom) Or the tap out!
With Spaz down, Lane applies Old School to less resistance. Slush and Ammo begin to be step into the ring, but Spaz waves them off.
(Tom) That's a poor choice. Spaz needs all the help he can get!
Spaz struggles through the figure four near the center of the ring, slowly but surely inching closer and closer to the ropes. Twitch tosses one end of Blake Bouchard into the ring, and Spaz gets a hold of the towel with his blindly grasping fingers. But Twitch overestimated his own strength, and Spaz wrenches Blake away within seconds, Twitch's plan not gaining Spaz any ground. Jason Martin moves in and takes the towel away, tossing it over the top rope. It lands perfectly over Twitch's head and the manager goes back into "if I can't see it, it can't see me" mode.
(Tom) Seriously, aren't managers supposed to be useful?
(JB) At least Twitch is trying. And again: As long as he's out there, he's not sitting here with us!
(Tom) Thank Gord for that.
Eventually, after a couple of minutes struggle, Spaz finally makes it close enough to the rope to force a break. Lane refuses to let go until just before Jason Martin reaches the full five count. Lane gets up, and as he does, Twitch pulls himself onto the apron, having removed Blake from his head once again. Twitch swings the towel around, but this time he's not trying to rally the fans. Instead, he flings the towel at Mike Lane. Lane quickly yanks Blake off of his head and tosses it away, but the distraction was long enough to allow Spaz to get up. Lane turns to meet Spaz, but not fast enough as the Sugar Junky lands a spinning heel kick to Lane's jaw.
(JB) Sweets Kick!
With his legs still sore from the figure four, Spaz makes relatively slow progress to his corner, where Slush awaits the tag. Lane gets up and moves toward Spaz, who takes one last dive, slapping Slush's hand on the way. Slush races into the ring and before Lane knows it, he's eating a flying back elbow.
(JB) Ice Breaker! This could be a turning point, Bear!
(Tom) Slush can't take Mike Lane.
(JB) He's the fresh man, and he's on fire!
(Tom) His name means "partly melted snow." How can he be on fire?
That aside, Slush is indeed in a dominating mood. While Lane is down from the Ice Breaker, Slush bolts to the opposite corner, nailing Dustin and Shane with forearm shots. When Lane gets to his feet and moves toward Slush, he gets lifted onto Slush's shoulders in a fireman's carry. Slush spins Lane around and sits out, slamming Lane back-first into the mat, a move he calls Liquify. Slush quickly covers Lane and hooks a leg.
(JB) This could be it!
(Tom) No way!
(Twitch) Yes way!
(Tom) Damn it!
(JB) Two... No!! The Alpha breaks it up!
Yes, Twitch has a headset. And as JB said, no this match isn't over, thanks to Shane Thomas. Dustin, Spaz and Ammo follow Shane into the ring and once again, we've degenerated to a free-for-all. Spaz and Dustin brawl off into one corner, Shane and Ammo into another, with Lane on the ground and Slush following Ammo. Ammo catches Shane in the Crossfire in the corner, then motions to Slush, who scales to the top rope. Ammo wraps his hand around The Alpha's throat, and lifts Shane high into the air.
(JB) Breakdown!! And Slush is up top!
Slush leaps, hitting a twisting moonsault.
(JB) Melting Point! Shane Thomas has Crashed on Delivery!!
(Twitch) Go Wares Go!
(Tom) But Shane isn't legal.
(JB) Indeed he's not, Bear.
(Twitch) Doesn't matter if The Lambda is legal, Flush and Jumbo just brought Shame down!
Mike Lane, the actual legal man is now up on the other side of the ring, aiding Dustin Thomas against Spaz. The two men overpower Spaz. Lane holds Spaz as Dustin climbs the turnbuckles. Lane lifts Spaz up, effectively handing him over to Dustin in a position that is usually precursor to a powerbomb.
(Twitch) Oh no. Pez!!
(Tom) Your Candy Man's about to get spiked.
Dustin leaps, flipping forward, and as Tom said, lands spiking Spaz's head into the mat with a top rope flipping piledriver.
(JB) Executor! Dustin nailed it!
(Twitch) PEEEEEZZZZ!!!
Twitch bails on the announce table, running toward his fallen client. Tom and JB rejoice. Meanwhile, in the ring we have Shane Thomas down from the C.O.D. and Spaz down from The Executor, leaving Mike Lane and Dustin Thomas on one side, Slush and Ammo on the other. With some plan in mind, Lane Irish whips Dustin toward Ammo. Ammo ducks, back-body dropping Dustin over the top... But Dustin gets a hold of the rope and lands on the apron. He springs off the top rope, landing squarely on Ammo's back and quickly applying a sleeper hold. Ammo staggers with this extra weight and the pressure on his throat, kind of like Fezzik did with Westley in The Princess Bride, but without any giant rocks to back into.
This leaves us with Mike Lane and Slush, coincidentally still the two legal men. They lock up in the middle of the ring, and Slush delivers a kick to Lane's gut. Lane doubles over, and Slush backs off at a run. Slush hits the ropes and leaps, looking for the Judgement Call. But Lane moves out of the way. As Slush pulls himself up, it's Lane's turn to take off at a run. Mike bounces off the ropes just as Slush gets to his feet.
(JB) SHADOW KICK!!!!!
Slush crumbles to the ground at the force of Lane's finishing maneuver. Lane hooks the leg.
(Tom) It's over!
(JB) You may be right, Bear... We've got two...
Ammo tries to get back to Slush to break the count, but the extra weight on his back, not to mention the sleeper hold, slows him too much.
(JB) And three!
(Tom) I knew it!
(Troy) Your winners, by pinfall... The Old School Empire!!
(JB) Mike Lane and the Thomas Brothers have won this hard battle, folks!
(Tom) But what's more important is that Mike Lane has won the Wish! Look out Champ, here he comes!
"Sad But True" starts to play, as Dustin lets go of Ammo, dropping off his back. Ammo goes to check on Slush and Twitch is already attending to Spaz, while Dustin helps his brother out of the ring. On the ramp, Lane poses in victory.
(JB) This was a tough fight on both sides, Bear. It could easily have gone the other way.
(Tom) But it didn't! The Goods didn't bring anyone down but themselves here tonight, and now Mike Lane has a free pass at whatever he wants!
(JB) That's the benefit of the Wish.
Spaz is starting to get up now, and as he does, his eyes lock with Mike Lane's and Lane smirks cockily.
(JB) But something tells me this thing between Mike Lane and Spaz isn't over yet.
(Tom) Why shouldn't it be? Lane's solved his Spaz problem!
(JB) By pinning Slush! I don't think we'll see this resolved until Mike Lane and Spaz go one on one, Bear!
(Tom) Bah. Lane's got bigger things on his mind now. Whoever comes out of tonight as Foundation Champion is going to have Mike Lane's target on his back!
(JB) Maybe Bear. And we'll find out who that Champion will be in our Main Event
All That L Will Say…
(JB) We're just moments away from our main event and with that, we're going to
throw it back to Amie Carmichael who's standing by with our reigning Foundation
Heavyweight Champion.
The fans cheer at the sight of the lovely Amie Carmichael as
she stands with microphone in hand.
(Amie) Ladies and gentlemen, in a few moments we will see the "Big City Hitman"
Mike Stryker go one on one with the man I'm standing next to for the Foundation
Heavyweight Championship. He is the Devastator From Doddtown and he is better
konwn as "The Reaper"...
This gets a rather mixed reaction from the NYC crowd.
(Amie) Give it up for LEONARD!!! AAARRR-OONNNSSSS!!!
After hearing what he had to say earlier in the evening, the
boos are slightly louder than the cheers. If you had to put a percentage on
it, we'd say it was 51% boos and 49% cheers. As the camera pans back and gets
a look at Aarons, he's unfazed. He's clad in his black leather trench coat
with his hood over his head, the Foundation Heavyweight Championship draped
over his left shoulder as his right hand is wrapped around the Lendo Stick.
(Amie) In just a few moments, you will step into the ring against the man whom
everyone believes will become the new Foundation Heavyweight...
It's here that Aarons interrupts Amie by putting his left
hand over the microphone, slowly shaking his head from side to side with a
rather miffed look in his eyes.
(Leonard) Ya know Amie, ever since yours truly has become
champion I've had to deal with all sorts of crap. First official appearance I
make as champion, Cunning douses me in vodka and threatens to set me ablaze,
then the lights go out and someone tries to incinerate me on live television.
Then, because Stryker's the poor bastico in the ring at the time the lights
went out holding a lighter he never bothered to put out, you're damned right I
dropped him right on his face for being at the wrong place at the wrong time
holding the WRONG DAMN THING.
He sighs, before continuing.
(Leonard) But what gets me is how everyone seems to think
that he has my number. All of these smarks and the like, honestly believe that
this is Stryker's night. Is that what you believe, Amie?
(Amie) I...I don't really have an opinion.
Leonard flashes a rather coy grin.
(Leonard) Good answer. Well Mikey, tonight's the night.
Tonight, you see the stark difference between winning 'big matches' for
Intercontinental gold and fighting in the BIG MATCH for the Foundation
Heavyweight Championship. You see Mikey, I'm not new to this, I'm true to this
as they say. I've listened to you all week talk about how you've waited
patiently, how you've toiled in mediocrity beating up on the crappy of the
crappiest for one thousand, five hundred and whatever days it has been.
The grin vanishes as a more serious look covers his face.
(Leonard) Tonight, you will see the difference between
being the absolute best in the industry and just being the best of the
midcarders. You sat and you moaned over the fact that Buchanan kept you from
competing because of injuries. I perservered through a ladder match, being
pelted by shoes and everything to come back and win a title that you haven't
touched in how long Mike? So feel free to scream about your resume missing
this little belt.
Beat.
(Leonard) I get the distinct impression that after
tonight, it'll still be missing it.
As he starts to walk away, Amie stops him with a question.
(Amie) But what about what Stryker said to you earlier in the week? That he
hasn't had any losses up until he lost to Hush at Last Rites thanks to Essex?
(Leonard) He didn't seem too sympathetic to Cunning using
any and every trick in the book to escape me, so forgive me if I'm not crying a
river for him losing to Quiet. Fact is, he lost his title to a guy that put
down an over the hill and in the grave Mat Kurresh and is presently putting the
fear of something into Keith Owens. I need not mention Cunning, because hell,
I'm half Quiet's size and I had the boy running frightened up until I cut the
Difference Maker out of the equation along with any time limit he could think
of. So no, I need not address the fallacies with what Mikey said to me. I
will go out there, in front of his fans and put him down one time for the great
time.
(Amie) But...
(Leonard) But what? Tonight, Mike will enter his dream
where he's about to become Foundation Heavyweight Champion. Sadly for him,
while I might not be wearing a freshly burned sweater with a fedora and pants
with boots, I'm packing a barb wire kendo stick and a whole lot of Devastation.
I see him being put to sleep once and for all tonight as what he walked in as.
A not yet that will never be as long as I'm packing the FHC. The Gospel has
been spoken, my Wrath is going to be felt.
Leonard walks away from Amie with a very determined look on
his face as he heads for the Cougar Position in preparation for his first title
defense.
Mike Stryker vs. "The Reaper" Leonard Aarons (FH)
Foundation Heavyweight Championship
(JB) This is it. Our main event of the evening and I’ve got to tell you, I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time.
(Tom) Of course you have. And you know who else has been looking forward to it?
(JB) Let me guess, your mother?
Ouch. Who saw that coming?
(Tom) Shut up, Mann-wich. Anyway, tonight the Big City Pyromaniac goes one on one with the man he tried to torch for the one prize he has never held.
(JB) We have no proof that he did it. The fact is, he was in the ring holding the lighter when the lights went out and…
(Tom) Moments later, the lights go out and we’ve got Champ a’la Mode. Or whatever French dish requires someone to be torched.
(JB) Either way, I think more harm than good may have come from it. Because while Mike may not have been the man who lit the match, Aarons believes he did and he has been on a vicious tear ever since.
(Tom) Still, I think Aarons picked the wrong bull. Stryker’s been around the block a few times and he has tangled with some of the biggest names in our game.
(JB) So who are you going with?
(Tom) Uh…Stryker. No…Aarons. Screw it, I’m not obligated to answer to you.
(JB) And on that note, let’s throw it up to Troy Gilmore for the introductions of our main event this evening.
The bell rings three times as Troy Gilmore stands front and center in the middle of the ring. Troy brings the mic up as he prepares for the introductions.
(Troy) Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall and is for the Foundation Heavyweight Championship!
A huge roar from the capacity crowd, one that we’ll probably not hear again here since the Knicks and Rangers aren’t likely to give these fans anything to cheer about over the next few months.
(Troy) The referee for this evening’s match is Walt Mason.
The camera shoots over to Mason, who simply stands in the far corner as the house lights go down. The buzz increases reaching a fever and almost deafening pitch as “Til I Collapse” by em begins to thump through the arena along with the familiar NAFWtron of various images of New York City.
YO LEFT, YO LEFT, YO LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT
YO LEFT, YO LEFT, YO LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT
(Troy) Coming to the ring first…he is the challenger. He hails from right here in New York City, New York…
He doesn’t get to really finish, because the roar of the crowd is akin to that of a 747 getting ready for take off from JFK Airport.
(Troy) He weighs in tonight at 227 pounds…
The lines repeat in the background through the rest of the intro, the fans working themselves into a literal frenzy as they hear Em rap through it in anticipation of the arrival of the Big City Hitman.
Cause sometimes you just feel tired.
You feel weak and when you feel weak you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
And just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
And not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse.
The song kicks in as the lights come back up and the crowd explodes in cheers as Mike Stryker comes storming out of the back. He stops at the top of the ramp and absorbs the reaction, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He flips the hood of his sweatshirt off and goes to one side of the stage, arms raised as the crowd, which reacts in kind as Stryker pounds his chest and points up. He walks with purpose to the other side of the stage and repeats the act to another loud roar from the NYC audience.
(Troy) He is a former Intercontinental Champion, Atlantic Champion and Tag Team Champion…tonight, he will have his first ever opportunity to become Foundation Heavyweight Champion.
Till I collapse I’m spilling these raps long as you feel em
Till the day that I drop you’ll never say that I’m not killin' them
Cause when I am not then I am stop pinning them
And I am not hip-hop and I’m just not Eminem
Subliminal thoughts when I’m stop sending them women are caught in webs spin and hauk venom
Adrenaline shots of penicillin could not get the illing to stop. Arnoxacilin is just not real enough.
Stryker gets back to the top of the ramp and stares inside of that ring, knowing what’s ahead of him and knowing that while his opponent isn’t out there yet, he’s ready. He marches down the ramp with purpose, a steely-eyed look in his eyes as he soaks in the atmosphere.
The criminal cop killin hip-hop filling minimal swap to cop millions of Pac listeners.
Your coming with me, feel it or not you’re gonna fear it like I showed you the spirit of God lives in us.
You hear it a lot, lyrics the shock is it a miracle or am I just a product of pop fizzing up.
For shizzle my whizzle this is the plot listen up you pizzles forgot slizzle does not give a fuck.
(JB) This is what it’s all about right now for Mike. He has been with this company for five years and has waited patiently to get this opportunity.
(Tom) Yeah, to paraphrase what our champion just said though, he only has one shot, he better not miss this chance to blow cause it only comes around one time.
Stryker has now hit the apron, where he hops up onto it and over the top rope bouncing on his feet raising his arms high to a huge roar from the packed house. He heads to the corner and hops up, slinging his sweatshirt into the crowd as Troy finishes his introduction.
(Troy) Ladies and gentlemen, he is the Big City Hitman. He is…
MIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEE!!! SSSTRRRYYYY-KKKKEEERRR!!!
If there were a decibel meter in play, the needle would be right about broken. Stryker hops down and smiles briefly, realizing that in a matter of moments it’ll be as real as it can be. He walks over to the referee and gets checked for any objects as the chorus kicks in.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high wear out
I’ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high wear out
I’ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.
Before another word can be uttered, the lights and everything go out at once. Only the flashing of lightbulbs can be heard as we hear a grumbling followed by the slow yet very deliberate and ear shattering sound of razors being sharpened. The NAFWtron starts to flicker rapidly as we see the rather violently disfigured face of Freddy Krueger as he says those four magic words…
(Freddy) Welcome to my nightmare.
A huge Lion’s roar booms over this as we hear Jadakiss speak the following…
And I’m nice like B.I.G. is
I’m the greatest of all time
I’ma say it just like Ali did
Cue the beating of the drums from the movie Ali by none other than Will Smith as he does the voiceover screaming…
THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
More drums as the NAFWtron flashes images of The Reaper…
THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
The drums continue as the audience now sees a quick shot of Freddy in action from the very first one, skewering Tina and dragging her body across the ceiling leaving a bloody trail.
THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
The drums continue to sound as we flash back to Rage where Aarons drops Tharodund with The Reaper’s Wrath before cinching in the Unhappy Ending as this ends the record breaking run Tharodund had as United States Champion.
* The Evil Genius * THE CHAMP IS HERE!!!
The fog starts to emanate from the entranceway as the beat kicks up to “The Champ Is Here” by Jadakiss w/Sheek. The fans are about half and half, the loud boos being cancelled out by the other half of the audience which is cheering as loudly as they feasibly can. Dark crimson lights can be seen shining throughout the Garden in spurts, as it floods each portion of the arena in its hue.
Fuckin with the champion (you already know)
(J-A-D-A, the game goodbye)
You fuckin wit the champion (you already know)
The NAFWtron now shows the final images from Death Wish, with Aarons hoisting Cunning up and dropping him with The Reaper’s Wrath. This cuts to a bloodied Aarons holding that Foundation Heavyweight Championship in his hands as flames start to erupt from both sides of the entrance in spurts. As Jadakiss starts to rap the beginning verse, there is a flag starting to descend from the top of the arena right over the entranceway. As it decends, a figure can be seen rising from the fog filled ramp.
Niggaz know the champ is in here
He took it from crack to rap, now he put out two anthems a year
And I just wanna rock for a century
And then chase the book wit the documentary
If you can’t do nothing other than flow
Life’s a bitch like the mother from Blow, let’s go
As the banner unfurls, we see three distinct images. The first in the forefront is that of Aarons clad in his wrestling attire with his back to the camera, a shot of his back with a full length Lion’s head on it wearing the proverbial crimson mask. In his left hand is his Lendo Stick, in his right is the Foundation Heavyweight Championship as he has his head turned to the right so you can see the sneer chiseled onto his face. The one above that is a shot from the most recent Annihilation, it’s a shot of Stryker being hit with the Garden State Pounce by Aarons and the one above that is Aarons holding that title in his hands for the first time. As the flames finally stop erupting and the banner touches down, Aarons has finally emerged from beneath the entranceway. His left hand is cradled around the bottom half of the strap, his right hand is clutching his Lendo Stick. He’s wearing a black trench coat that resembles more of a cloak than anything else.
(Troy) And coming down the aisle at this time, he hails from East Orange, New Jersey and weighs in at 288 pounds!
Don’t make me put your heart in your lap
Fuck ridin a beat nigga, I parallel park on a track
Hop out looking crispy, fresh and new
In a six but it’s a BM and it’s Pepsi Blue
And I don’t know you
But I know a man becomes a man from all the shit that he go through
Aarons stands for a few moments, not moving a muscle looking as stoic as he can as he takes in the mixed reaction by this NYC crowd. The NAFWtron continues to show the highlights from L’s career as he starts down the ramp slowly, yet very very methodically as the introduction continues.
(Troy) He is the Career Devastator and Devastator From Doddtown…
It’s here that Aarons stops at the middle of the aisle, removing his trench coat as he lets it drop to the ground his belt now resting on his left shoulder as he removes it and holds it in his left hand.
(Troy) He is the reigning FOUNDATION! HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!! He is “The Reaper” LEONARDDDDDD!!!! AAAAAAAARRRR-OOOONNNNSSSSS!!!
Aarons strikes his trademark pose, causing pyro to ignite from all four corners, including the one directly behind Stryker who barely flinches as his eyes never leave Aarons who just stands with a smirk on his face. He starts down the aisle, continuing the walk as the song continues to blare through with fans still having a mixed reaction to Aarons.
(JB) Aarons is taking his sweet time getting to the ring.
(Tom) It’s brilliant. He knows that Stryker’s a ball of rage, so he’s letting him cool off while he takes his time and gets in the ring when he’s good and ready. Brilliant strategy.
(JB) Well, he seems to be confident, but we can’t help but wonder about the exchange between L and Vanessa earlier in the evening. He basically said he didn’t do what he did to save her, he did it because Stryker had it coming to him.
(Tom) That’s his ex, what do you expect? The man basically trashed his prized ride and those don’t exactly grow on trees.
(JB) Still, I think…LOOK OUT!!!
Stryker has had enough of waiting on Aarons, as he has taken the offense to Aarons in the early going charging Aarons who was just on the apron and nailing him with a hard forearm taking Aarons off the apron and onto the guardrail. Walt doesn’t have enough time to ring the bell, because in a New York minute, Stryker’s managed to take a running start and ascend the turnbuckle jumping down onto Aarons with a hard axe handle blow.
(JB) Stryker has gone off at the start of this thing, ambushing Aarons before he could get in the ring and now he’s going off on him with an assault on the outside.
(Tom) Typical New Yorker, figure the odds he has to wait until Aarons doesn’t see it coming.
(JB) I think Stryker’s had enough of Aarons and his tactics. He wants that title and he’s ready to prove that he is the better man period.
(Tom) We’ll just see about that.
Aarons is struggling to get to his feet, as Stryker has picked up something that Aarons dropped. The fans let out a huge roar, with some boos scattered as Stryker wields the Lendo Stick. Stryker doesn’t wait for Aarons to turn around, he approaches the champ rather quickly and swings connecting with the back of the champion causing him to cringe in pain as that barb wire digs into his back. Stryker doesn’t stop and continues to bring it to him with repeated strikes, before Aarons finally turns to and catches the barb wire right in between the eyes. This stuns the champion, allowing Stryker to connect a few more times before finally getting a trickle of the red stuff from the top of L’s forehead. It’s here that Stryker puts the Stick down on the ground, as the Foundation Heavyweight Champion is dazed and wobbly.
(JB) As determined as Stryker looked against Hush a month ago at Death Wish, he has taken it to a level I don’t think anyone’s ever truly seen before.
(Tom) It’s his first Foundation Heavyweight Championship match in five years. He’d be a fool not to go all out, these things aren’t exactly guaranteed ya know?
(JB) Stryker now has Aarons up and he looks to be primed for a suplex…he’s got the champion up and…
(Tom) Oh no…
(JB) DOWN GOES AARONS HEAD FIRST ONTO THE BARB WIRE PORTION OF LENDO!!!
This gets a huge roar from the crowd, as Stryker pops up and flexes for the crowd as Aarons is clearly not all there as the blood continues to trickle down from his wound. Aarons crawls towards the apron and pulls himself up, as Stryker continues to stalk the champion. Stryker lands a few stiff elbows to the back of Aarons, before rolling him into the ring as Mason rings the bell and this match officially begins.
(JB) What a start to this match, it has been all Stryker to this point and Aarons is busted open after the opening onslaught by the Big City Hitman.
(Tom) Again, easy to attack a guy who isn’t ready for it.
(JB) Stryker pulling Aarons to his feet and has him hooked, belly to belly suplex! Here’s the cover…
1!!!!
2….
(JB) NO! Aarons gets that shoulder up before the ref’s hand comes off the mat for two.
(Tom) Stryker’s gonna have to try harder than that to get Aarons.
(JB) Stryker appears to have heard you, in goes Aarons into the corner and here comes Stryker…FLYING ELBOW TO THE CHOPS!!!
(Tom) Come on Len, snap out of it!
(JB) Stryker’s not letting up, he sends him into the opposite corner and waits…here he comes…
(Tom) HE MISSED!!! HE WENT FOR IT ALL AND CAME UP EMPTY!!!
Aarons moved just as Stryker came in and he’s already moving, as he bounces off the ropes with a full head of steam. Stryker’s slightly dazed as he stumbles out of the corner and by the time he gets a bead on where Aarons is, Leonard’s meaty right arm is extended and it’s too late for Mike as his body does a flip in mid air on impact. Aarons is fuming, as he stares at Stryker and starts to stomp on the right shoulder unmercifully as the fans start to boo him with the cheers audible but oblivious to Aarons.
(Tom) Here we go! Champion’s in charge and regaining control of this match. He told Mike he was going to keep it interesting before putting him away and here’s how it’s going to start.
(JB) Aarons has clearly done his homework, locking in on the right shoulder that Mike’s had problems with before.
(Tom) Now he’s dropping knees onto that shoulder, this is brilliant.
(JB) Well aren’t you rounding into the neat little, Reaper mark?
(Tom) Shut your hole, Mann-clown. I like the new and improved Reaper. First he destroys the Russian Cyborg and now he’s gonna take out the Big City Hitman just as he spoke in his Gospel.
Aarons is dropping knee after knee on that stretched out shoulder, before dragging Stryker over to the corner and sliding outside of the ring. Aarons has a firm hold on Stryker’s wrist, giving a good yank as Stryker’s right shoulder collides rather hard with the steel.
(JB) Good grief! Aarons just rammed Stryker’s shoulder into the post and he’s staying on it with repeated strikes into that post.
(Tom) Steel wins, bones and muscles lose. I’m telling you, this man’s as cerebral as he is devastating. He knows the past that Mikey had with that shoulder and he’s going after it.
(JB) He’s a master of The Reaper’s Grip, which is what he could be softening Stryker up for.
Aarons continues on the attack, pulling on Stryker’s arm as his shoulder continues being pulled into the steel. Aarons has a maniacal glare in his eyes, as he fires a rather sinister glare at Stryker who’s writhing in pain. Mason starts to admonish Aarons, giving a five count that Aarons simply scoffs at before letting go and flipping Mason off as he turns towards the fans laughing briefly before sliding back into the ring.
(JB) Stryker’s nursing that shoulder as Aarons slides back in, jawing with the ref before planting a hard boot right into the shoulder.
(Tom) Looks like he’s not settling for one, he’s going for multiple boots. He’s about to show Stryker what being the Foundation Heavyweight Champion is all about.
(JB) He’s a crimson mess and he’s still bringing the fight to Stryker after that opening onslaught Stryker brought to him earlier.
Aarons brings Stryker to his feet and scoops him up onto his shoulder, bringing him down across his knee not once, but thrice before he swings Stryker around and drives him down with a cross backbreaker only this drives Stryker’s shoulder down hard onto the knee of Aarons. Aarons stops and looks down at Stryker, striking his trademark pose as he looks up at the crowd, soaking in the applause and boos from this bi-partisan crowd.
(JB) After an opening flurry, the Champion is in full control as Stryker’s looking hurt.
(Tom) Brilliance, keeping it up on that shoulder, attacking a weakness. Stryker caught Aarons off guard to start, once Aarons got his bearings, this became one sided.
Aarons picks up Stryker and backs him up, whipping him across into the opposite ropes. He lowers his head and Stryker leapfrogs over, as he comes back, Stryker lands a superkick, square in the face. A stunned Aarons is immediately attacked as Stryker lands a few quick rights. Aarons swings, and Stryker ducks, stepping into the champion and locking him up for a T-Bone suplex.
(JB) T-BONE!!
(Tom) NO!!
Stryker tries to put the bigger man over, but his shoulder gives out. He lets out a scream and the crowd goes silent as Stryker clutches his right arm. Aarons stumbles back and realizes there’s blood in the water, coming in on Stryker as Stryker recovers in the corner.
(JB) BOOT!!
Stryker gets off a kick to the gut, fighting off the champion. As Aarons comes back, he gets treated to another kick. The crowd begins to stir as Stryker mounts this comeback. Stryker leaves the corner and manages to throw a couple right forearms. He begins to shake out his arm as Aarons throws another right. Stryker ducks the wild swing and slips behind Aarons.
(JB) GERMAN SUPLEX!!
Stryker gets the big man over as the crowd explodes in cheers for the release german suplex. Stryker pops up and immediately kicks it into another gear, putting the boots to Aarons who’s trapped in the corner.
(Tom) Son of a-
(JB) Stryker is on fire, he’s got his second wind!!
Stryker stomps out the proverbial mudhole in Aarons as the crowd rallies around the challenger. He backs up as Aarons, reeling, sits with his head on the bottom turnbuckle. Stryker charges forward and connects with a vicious dropkick to the head of the champion. Stryker pulls Aarons to the middle of the ring and hooks the leg for the pin.
1…..
2…………..
(JB) Kickout by Aarons!!
The Reaper gets his shoulder up as Stryker looks around for his next move. Reaper lays prone in the middle of the ring and Stryker makes the decision to go up top. As he climbs the crowd once again buzzes, for what they all know is coming.
(JB) Folks, this is the best elbow in the business, bar none.
(Tom) Eh, it’s not bad.
Stryker gets to the top and braces himself for a second before taking flight. He ascends into the sky, cocking his elbow at the peak of flight, before hurtling back to earth like a 225 lb bullet.
(Tom) NO GOOD!!
Stryker catches nothing but canvas as Aarons rolls out of the way. Stryker grabs his shoulder, still hurting, and rolls over in agony. Aarons takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting up and looking at his fallen adversary, smiling.
(Tom) Reaper’s got him cornered again, that’s all it takes Mannwich. One big mistake and Stryker’s in trouble.
Aarons goes for Stryker, this time focusing on the leg, as he stomps down on the left knee, causing a yelp of pain from Stryker. Aarons smells blood and focuses in, woking over the knee as Stryker writhes in agony.
(Tom) More homework!! That’s why he’s CHAMP!! Stryker’s got that bad wheel and Aarons knows it.
(JB) It’s nothing but intelligent.
Aarons drags Stryker’s injured frame over to the corner, as he slides out and pulls Stryker’s leg to the ringpost. Aarons wraps Strykers leg against the post, causing a moan from the crowd as Stryker again screams out. Aarons does it one more time for good measure, before he stops and smiles again.
(JB) Through the crimson, Aarons’ face says he’s got bad intentions for Stryker.
Aarons takes Stryker’s legs and wraps them around the ringpost, figure four style. He climbs Stryker’s legs and lets go, dropping himself down and locking on a figure four around the post. Stryker is in absolute agony as he screams out.
(Tom) Good Jesus Stryker’s in trouble!!
(JB) Referee Walt Mason is letting this go a little, he knows we all want a winner, but at some point Aarons is going to have to break this hold.
Aarons is relentless on the hold as Stryker can not escape. Stryker shouts out in agony, his injured knee being torn apart, as Aarons’ cut on his head beglins bleeding again from his being upside down. Walt mason gets outside and starts his count. He gets to 4 and Aarons breaks the hold. Stryker pulls up instinctively and goes into a fetal position. Aarons rolls slowly back into the ring. Aarons lifts Stryker’s injured leg high, ramming it back down to the mat knee first as the crowd moans. Stryker screams out as Aarons repeats the move, attempting to injure the knee. With Stryker lying helpless in the corner, Aarons take a chance to taunt the partisan NYC crowd. He strikes his pose as the crowd begins to boo.
(JB) He better not waste a ton of time, Stryker’s not one to mess around with if you can keep him down.
No sooner is this said than Aarons goes to the corner to get Stryker and Stryker counters, grabbing the front of Aarons’ pants and pulls him forward into the corner. Aarons hits the turnbuckle face first and recoils, turning away. Stryker moves in, and chop blocks the bigger man as the crowd roars its approval.
(Tom) No way!!
Stryker is on his feet, once again smelling blood. As Reaper tries to get up, Stryker drops him with a pair of stiff kicks to the injured hamstring. Reaper crawls away as Stryker begins going on pure instinct. He grabs Aarons bad leg and rolls him over, kicking at the soft hamstring again before turning him around for a figure four. Aarons counters, kicking Stryker off. As Stryker comes back, Aarons springs to his feet and gets the goozle.
(Tom) CHOKESLAM FROM ILLTOWN!!
(JB) NO!!
Aarons lifts Stryker high into the air, but Stryker shifts his weight at the height of the lift, ending up getting away from the grip and falling directly behind Aarons. Stryker never gets to the mat, as he lands on the champions back.
(JB) STRYKER…..KATAHAJIME?!?! WHEN’S THE LAST TIME HE USED THAT MOVE!?!?!
(Tom) It’s been years Mann, years. All the stops are out tonight.
Stryker lands the chokehold in the middle of the ring, hooking his legs around Aarons, hanging on like a pitbull. Aarons moves around wildly, trying to toss Stryker off his back. As Aarons thrashes about Stryker manages to stay with him like a professional bull rider. After a minute of fighting, Aarons begins to fade as the MSG crowd is going berserk.
(JB) AARONS TO A KNEE!!
The screams of the crowd increase as the life seems to be fought from Aarons’ body. A Stryker chant makes it’s way around the arena for their homegrown athlete. As Aarons looks like he’s going to finally drop, he lets out a primal yell and drives himself straight back into a corner. He knocks Stryker loose with the impact.
He also takes down referee Walt Mason.
(Tom) Oh boy Joe Manntana….this just got interesting!!
As Stryker comes out of the corner he lands a couple of right hands, backing Aarons up. He gets Aarons almost to the opposite corner before taking a step back and charging…
(JB) SPINEBUSTER!!
Stryker gets drilled as the wind goes out of both himself and the raucous Garden crowd. Aarons rolls to his back to catch his breath as Stryker rolls to his stomach and under the ropes to figure out what truck just ran him over.
(Tom) Nobody’s conscious!!
(JB) Well….oh come on, what’s this all about?
The “what” in question would be Vanessa Chamberlain, who saunters her curves down the ramp to the delight of nobody who’s sitting in MSG. As she gets to ringside, she stops, giving zero clue as to why she’s out there.
(Tom) Aarons is moving. Stryker is not. Bad news.
Aarons gets up and looks around. He sees Vanessa and does his best to ignore her. He sees Walt Mason, down and out. He sees Stryker, lying on his stomach.
He looks outside and sees folding chairs.
(JB) Aarons has a sickening look in his eyes as he heads outside and Stryker may be in trouble. He’s taken a lot of punishment and hasn’t moved much since that spinebuster.
Aarons gets himself a chair and looks back at Mason, who’s lying like he’s been gunned down in one corner. He sees his chance and gets into the ring, chair in hand, as the crowd is buzzing.
Aarons stalks Stryker like wounded prey in the corner slowly. Vanessa simply stands pat, observing, not giving away anything. Aarons licks his chops as he raises the chair sky high…
(JB) STRYKER!!
(Tom) LENDO STICK!!
Stryker, while down, got his hands on the Lendo stick. As Aarons raised the chair up, Stryker rolls over and swings at Aarons’ leg. Aarons drops the chair as the stick hangs in his pants and Stryker jumps on the chance, taking Aarons down. As Aarons lays on his stomach, Stryker puts the stick through Aarons’ legs, locking them up and pulling back.
(JB) NEW YORK CLOVERLEAF!!!!! THE MOST VIOLENT CLOVERLEAF EVER SEEN!!!
The crowd is in a frenzy as Stryker leans back and Aarons screams out. His pants leg is ripped up and blood is seeping down both the lendo stick and his thigh. Stryker leans back, one hand on the handle of the stick and one on Aarons leg. As Aarons keeps screaming out, Stryker keeps pouring it on. He pulls until he gives out, releasing Aarons legs. Stryker rolls away to a corner, recovering, as Aarons grabs the stick that’s stuck to his thighs and pulls it away, screaming out again. He tosses the stick to the outside.
(Tom) This match has broken down. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Stryker’s down in one corner, and Aarons is hurting after….I can’t describe it!
(JB) This is beyond violence. We need an official down here now, before someone really does get hurt.
Stryker pulls himself up as Walt Mason begins to stir as well. Aarons looks up, and locks eyes with Stryker. The two men stare each other down as they stand in opposite corners and the crowd starts eating it up.
(Tom) CHARGE!!
Both men rush to mid-ring and start exchanging right hands. Stryker ducks one and lands another, staggering Aarons. Stryker attacks with a clothesline that Aarons ducks, and when Stryker turns around-
(Tom) GRIMEY SLAM!!!
Stryker again is planted mid ring as Aarons goes for the cover.
There’s no count.
(JB) Get her off the apron!!!
Vanessa Chamberlain is on the apron, and Walt Mason’s first order of business since getting himself up is to get her down. Aarons, seeing this, gives up the cover and starts arguing with Vanessa. Mason gets between them, but Stryker’s gotten himself up and dropkicks Aarons in the back. Aarons crashes into Vanessa with Mason in the middle. Vanessa gets knocked off the apron and Mason goes down again. Aarons is dazed and Stryker lands a kick to the gut, pulling Aarons in.
(JB) PARADIGM SHIFT TIME!!!
The crowd cheers in approval as Stryker heaves Aarons up and drills him with a piledriver. The crowd responds with a resounding ONE!!!
Stryker rolls through, holding on, and lifts Aarons for another piledriver….TWO!!!
Stryker again rolls through and lifts Aarons up for another piledriver….THREE!!!
Stryker gets on top of Aarons and hooks the leg.
There’s no count.
(Tom) Walt Mason has gotta suck it up for Christ’s sake!! This match should have been over twice!!
Stryker looks around and sees the fallen Mason as he looks up, almost as if to ask God “why this now?” Stryker rolls off of Aarons and gets to his knees. He never sees Vanessa Chamberlain get in the ring behind him. She runs across and lands a shocking, picture perfect shining wizard, because you know, she’s secretly a ninja wrestler and would be totes the women’s champion if the NAFW had such a division. Stryker goes down, dazed, to his hands and knees. Vanessa comes back, screaming at Stryker.
(JB) Oh NO!!!!
Stryker looks up, staring daggers into Vanessa, who realizes where she is and with who. Stryker springs up and attacks, grabbing Vanessa by the hair to the delight of everyone at MSG. Stryker puts her in position for another Paradigm Shift as the crowd hits another level of applause. Stryker, unfortunately, never sees Aarons….
…..or the Lendo Stick.
(Tom) Look at Strykers back!!
Stryker’s back is ripped open by a slash of the Lendo stick, causing him to drop Vanessa and turn, clutching his back. Aarons again gets the goozle, and this time, no fancy tricks.
(JB) CHOKESLAM FROM ILLTOWN!!! CENTER OF THE RING!!!!!!
Stryker is down and out and Aarons collapses in the middle of the ring exhausted and bleeding. Walt Mason comes to as Aarons crawls himself over and drapes an arm across Stryker’s chest.
1….
2……
KICKOUT!
(Tom) Unbelievable!
(JB) Stryker kicks out!
Reaper covers again. Walt makes the count.
1……
2……
SHOULDER UP!
(JB) You can’t hold Stryker down!
(Tom) Reaper is livid!
Stryker finds the energy to somehow get up as Reaper stalks him. Reaper charges at him for a grapple but Stryker side steps it and shoves Reaper into the corner. He finds a burst of energy and nails him with some heavy fists before picking him up and planting him on the top turnbuckle. The two then exchange slow but heavy blows as they continue to fight it out as they stand up on the ropes. Stryker hits an uppercut below the chin then hits what can only be described as a desperation belly to belly suplex from somewhere between the middle and top ropes. The Foundation Champion grabs his back on the mat and Stryker is about dead too, but the Big City Hitman slowly makes his way over and goes to lock in his signature submission again.
(JB) Here we go again! NEW. YORK. CLOVERLEAF!
Reaper tries to put up a fight, attempting to kick Stryker off, but it does no good. Stryker locks in the move and holds it in hard. Reaper refuses to give up. The referee is down in his face asking him every few seconds if he wants to submit. Stryker keeps the hold locked tight but Reaper finds the energy to drag them to the ropes. He’s only inches away from grabbing the bottom rope until Stryker walks them back into the middle of the ring and locks in the hold more intensely. Walt Mason is back asking The Reaper if he gives up, but the Reaper won’t submit. This hold is going into the four minute mark at this point and it’s getting really ridiculous.
(Tom) The Reaper refuses to give up!
(JB) But Stryker refuses to break that hold and try something else! Stryker is intent on finishing off The Reaper right here and right now with that cloverleaf submission!
The Reaper raises his hand as if he might tap, but he rethinks it and tells the referee NO! The crowd begins to stir, but not for either man in the ring. Cue Mr. Black coming in through the audience and into the ring. He charges at Stryker and delivers a very hard knee to the face! Stryker releases the hold and falls over while the referee calls for the bell.
(Troy) Your winner via disqualification is Mike Stryker, but your NAFW Foundation Heavyweight Champion is still “The Reaper” Leonard Aarons!
(JB) And the crowd is not happy with this result!
(Tom) The hometown hero had a chance at winning the biggest title in the game, but Mr. Black, whoever the hell that is, ruined it!
Stryker is pleading with the referee on the outside to know what happened in the ring, or perhaps to get him to restart the match. The crowd continues to throw beer cups into the ring.
The Revelation
Mr. Black stands behind Aarons holding a NAFW microphone in his hand, the crowd is filled with boos as Mr. Black just stands behind the FHC, crossing his arms over his chest.
(Mr. Black) Turn around, Len…I do believe that it’s time that we shed a little bit of light on the situation.
Reaper uses the ropes and pulls himself to his feet. Reaching into his pocket, Mr. Black pulls out a metallic Zippo lighter, playing with it between his fingers. He steps towards Aarons only a few inches away from his face as with a flick of his thumb, he ignites a small flame from the Zippo lighter holding it in front of Aaron’s unflinching face.
(Mr. Black) What’s the matter, Len…you a little spooked by fire now? You’ve always been a hard ass…always have to be this bad ass because you never want to seem as if your human…that you –can- be hurt. That you can be touched…that you are as invincible as you want everyone to think. You took everything from me, you son of a bitch…and coming short of taking you life, you need to know that at any point and time that anyone is capable of doing something that even you can’t fathom…and that includes setting you on fire.
Aarons opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted.
(Mr. Black) No! Shut your mouth! For months, we’ve all listened to you talk and talk and talk…and now it’s about time you shut the hell up and listened before someone actually finishes the job and watches you burn to a crisp.
More boos from the crowd.
(Mr. Black) I want you to look at the screen Len…I’m sure that what I’m about to show you…you’re really going to be interested in seeing because I have done something that the police…Buchanan…Vanessa…or your guard dog Lorenzo couldn’t do.
Mr. Black leans in close as he closes the lighter.
(Mr. Black) I know who set you on fire…now watch, Champ.
The lights of Madison Square Garden cut out as the NAFW-Tron cuts from static to July 3, 2007, Annihilation 12:
“OH MY GOD!”
From the darkness shines a bright beacon – illuminating the lost like a lighthouse in an ocean bay at midnight.
The monk who burned himself to death to make a political statement – it took months of intense therapy for this man to tune out the pain – the smell – the involuntary reaction flame inspires in flesh.
Leonard Aarons has not undergone this same process. His introduction to pyromania – to flesh burning, to blood boiling because of the heat, to air igniting in his lungs… was sudden, immediate, unexpected. The scene suddenly flashes to various shades of green that of night vision that our Armed Forces would use. The camera suddenly zooms in on a shadowy figure escaping from underneath the ring and climbing over the guard rail and into the unexpecting crowds who are too enthralled with the Foundation Champion being set ablaze.
(Mr. Black) I hope you’re paying attention, Len…it seems that you’ve been about this the wrong way the whole time. It wasn’t Mike Stryker…or Trevor Cunning…or Keith Owens…or even Dwayne Bishop for that matter.
The lights come up suddenly as Mr. Black is no longer Mr. Black.
“IT WAS ME, YOU BASTARD!”
Len quickly turns around as his eyes and mouth stand wide open in total shock of the revelation in front of him.
(JB) IT’S HEATWAVE!
(Tom) But why would Heatwave nail Stryker? Why wouldn't he cost Reaper the title?
(JB) Maybe he saw enough of the brutality and wanted to be the one who finishes off Leonard Aarons? Maybe he wanted "The Reaper" for himself when Stryker was on the verge of winning?
Heatwave stands in front of Len, holding that black Lucha mask in his hand, throwing to the ground.
(Heatwave) It was me, Len! I’m the one who did it! I set your sorry ass on fire and if given the chance I’ll do it again. We were once brothers…we were once tight as thieves…but the thing is, when I finally started to get my star to shine and wanted to blaze my own path…you couldn’t handle it, you couldn’t stand the fact that someone else was bigger than you and so you cut me down…you brought my family into this and had the nerve to put your hands on my wife and for that I will never forgive you. I hate you, Leonard Aarons. This isn’t about the title…this isn’t about careers…this is about livelihood…which you took from me and because it…I will make sure that you never know what peaceful night sleep is, Leonard. I promise you. I got to you once…I will get to you again.
Heatwave drops the microphone in the middle of the ring and walks right passed a shocked FHC as he exits the ring to a chorus of boos. With a smile Heatwave turns and points to Aarons as that familiar charred plush lion falls from the rafters and lands in the middle of the ring. Heatwave simply laughs as the boos becomes ear-splitting, he stands at the at the foot of the ramp and crosses his arms over his chest as he stares daggers into soul of the Foundation Champion.
(JB) Heatwave…this is despicable. I never thought another human being would ever have such poor due regard for another life.
(Tom) Mann-Wagon, Len has done some bad things in his life and it seems that it’s all coming back to him…more than ten-fold…this is going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.
Our focus cuts to the top of the ramp where Mike Stryker stands with a microphone in hand.
(Stryker) So that’s it Heatwave? That’s your big revelation? Well congratu-fucking-lations on lighting him on fire. You walked out here tonight under that mask and flaunted your “inside” information, then had the audacity to interrupt my match and cost me the title when I went blow for blow with the Reaper in that ring and was moments away from him submitting the NAFW Foundation Heavyweight Championship to me in MADISON SQUARE GARDEN?
The crowd is firmly behind Stryker at the moment with his name being echoed throughout the arena.
(Stryker) You two can have your little spat, but you picked the wrong time to make your presence felt Heatwave. This isn’t over. Not with you. Not with The Reaper. That title should be mine, and I’ll be damned if either of you stop me from getting it again!
THIS. IS. NOT. OVER.
Stryker spikes the microphone on the stage. The camera pans back to show us Stryker on the stage, Heatwave on the ramp, and The Reaper in the ring.
(JB) I guess this goes to prove ANYTHING can happen here in professional wrestling. And like the Big City Hitman said, this one is not over. Thanks for joining us tonight here on Pay Per View, and we’ll see you on TNT for our next Annihilation!
Fade to logo.