Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 1:34:13 GMT
Live from the Xayarena
Purity, LA
Pure Amusement Wrestling
Proudly Presents:
ST. PATRICK'S DAY SUPER SHOW
BEFORE CURTAIN
Darkness floods the theater leaving most of the crowd to shift anxiously in their seats with a hushed murmur of anticipation. They aren't left waiting for long as a single spotlight finally illuminates the center of the ring. There stands Munin, her body sheathed in a silky confection of red. Her figure hugged by the luxurious fabric so that every curve and lean bit of muscle is revealed. Her signature black mane falls down her back in straight inky waves, pulled away from her pale face by two black combs. The crowd cheers at her presence, and she let's the tidal wave of their voices roll over her, and bolster her. Full red lips spreading into a Cheshire grin, while exotic black eyes sparkling with pleasure. Until after a few moments she holds up a hand for silence , and brings the mic a hairs breath away from her lips.
Lady Munin: Good evening ladies and gentlemen...sinners and saints...and everyone in between the lines.
She pauses in between to give the crowds to cheer and settle back down.
Lady Munin: As much as I adore you my dear patrons of Purity I will not be out here with you for long.
She began to move around the ring with the short train of her dress trailing behind her.
Lady Munin: Tonight after all is not about me. No, tonight is about Pure Amusement Wrestling, and the history we will make tonight by crowning our first Champions!
The reminder of the up coming matches rile the crowd into a fever. Its a fever that Munin doesn’t even try to contain at this point. Instead she raises her voice to be magnified over the clamorous noise of the crowds.
Lady Munin: Tonight you will watch as history is made!
Dropping the mic down to her side she gracefully maneuvers her way out of the ring, and begins her walk down the ramp. Ladies and Gentlemen by Saliva blares over the P.A system over the screaming crowd until Lady Munin slips once more into the shadows and out of view.
Cut to the mega screen over the entryway, clips and highlights from previous WICKED DVD's. A shot of Luke Knux and 'Hungry' Jack trading blows from WICKED#5; Alex Cross reversing the small package on Flaming Youth from WICKED#4; Trixie and CJ O'Donnell's double team on Tyler Keenan; Press powerbombing Cross Recoba from the ring to the rampway; A shot of Stevie Harris, a maniacal grin on his face, handling his infamous noose; and then a ticking TNT bomb, which becomes an animated four leaf clover that counts down from 10 and ignites a graphical EXPLOSION on the screen, bursting into smaller four leaf clovers, before the speakers cut the music. The focus of the camera falls on the announce table with Philo B. Pope and Charissa Clark.
PHILO: What's up motherfuckers? You found us! I'm Philo B. Pope, and this lovely tattooed beauty to my left is my controversial partner in crime, Charissa Clark. Charissa, happy mother fucking St. Patrick's Day!
CHARISSA: Aww, Thank's Philo. And you know what they say about controversy? It's the spice of life.
PHILO: I thought that was variety.
CHARISSA: No, silly. Variety is a magazine for middle class soccer moms who wish that they were rich white women. Controversy, however, is a language that anyone can understand.
PHILO: Right, well there's an entire demographic we won't be appealing to. Anyways, so let's check out the festivities for this evening. We've got the return of one of the Lost Boyz! Rufio is set for singles action against none other than Flaming Youth!
CHARISSA: Wow, that's a pretty big drop down the card, eh Philo? We have a BombTrax kicking this thing off for us, and we have a BombTrax in the Main Event. I guess we know which one is the talent in that group.
PHILO: I don't think I'd go that far, Charissa. Flaming Youth is an exciting acrobatic that is sure to leave these fans in awe before the night's through, but what I'm really looking forward to is the first ever Last Man Standing Food Fight! Damn, I've got the munchies just thinking about it.
CHARISSA: God, you are A-typical. This has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard of. These guys are going to do battle in a grocery store? Who does that?
PHILO: Pure Amusement Wrestling! That's who! We got Luke Knux taking on 'Hungry' Jack Swanson, and after that Cleaning House Battle Royal, this is sure to be epic. Both men have a score to settle.
CHARISSA: True. Jack Swanson invaded that match after a pep-talk from Press in the back, and looked like he was going to just, wait for it....'Clean House'.
PHILO: You know, you really are a gem. (Shakes his head) Anyways, like my partner was saying, Jack expected to make short work of everyone in that match, and almost did, except for one Luke Knux. Our resident Rock God stepped up to the plate and sent old Jack out of the ring, and saved his job in the process.
CHARISSA: Well, of coarse he did, Philo. He's Luke F'n Knux. He wasn't about to let Jack Swanson come into his ring and push him around. But this isn't a gimmick battle royal he's facing. That Jack is one big fella, and Luke's going to be fighting in his arena tonight.
PHILO: Very true, Charissa. But the match after that might be where all the sizzle is. A few weeks ago they were tag partners, and there was quite a bit of chemistry between them going into the Main Event of WICKED#5. Trixie and CJ O'Donnell are going to have to throw all of that out the window to find out who's going to be the #1 Contender to the PAW Championship decided later tonight in our Main Event.
CHARISSA: Yeah, I personally don't see what CJ O'Donnell could possibly see in Trixie, so I don't think it would be to far of a stretch to say that he won't have any problem putting her down for the count.
PHILO: I don't know, Charissa. Trixie's proven that she knows how to use her assets to her advantage, and also that she knows her way around the ring. Combine those two, and she might be more than CJ O'Donnell's used to dealing with.
CHARISSA: Well we'll find out tonight which strategy will work best. Sex Appeal or Technical Wrestling. I'm sure our fans will enjoy both.
PHILO: Right you are, Charissa. But the action doesn't stop there. We all knew we'd be crowning the first ever PAW Heavyweight Champion tonight, but in a surprise move, Lady Munin has pulled another piece of gold out of her thinking cap.
CHARISSA: You must be talking about the Titans of the Midway Championship!
PHILO: Indeed I am. We've got Calvin Harris, Johnny Raike, and Alex Cross in a triple threat ultraviolent match to decide who will stand tall as the first ever champion crowned in PAW.
CHARISSA: And it's my favorite kind of contest too, Philo. No rules, just the promise of extreme violence!
PHILO: Wow, I never knew you were so blood thirsty Charissa.
CHARISSA: Hey! A girl's got to get her jolly's somewhere, and watching three hunks get in the ring and bash each other's brains out just so happens to be the way this girl does it.
PHILO: Well, you've definitely come to the right place then, because all three of these men come from a hard hitting, ultraviolent, background.
CHARISSA: And you know what else is great? After that match is our Main Event, and it also has no rules.
PHILO: Correct, once again! Press and Stevie Harris have run the gauntlet for the past few months in the PAW Championship Tournament, and now it's time for them to settle the debate. Will the resident Big Man of PAW be the one to put an end to the madman, or will the 'ImWithStevie' Movement prevail in this ultimate test to his ministry?
CHARISSA: No one can ever be one hundred percent certain, Philo, but like I said a few weeks ago, I'm With Stevie!
PHILO: Maybe so, but there hasn't been a dominant force like Press in professional wrestling for a long time. People can question his morals and decisions all they like, but the sheer power he brings to the ring can not be overlooked. Not to mention, he doesn't appear to mind crippling someone just in order to get what he wants, and that's the PAW Championship.
CHARISSA: And Stevie is different? I don't think so. He didn't just try to end Johnny Raike's career, he damn near killed him! He's dropped every opponent in his way thus far, and put a level of fear in the locker room that not even Press can make claim to. Hell, he's got management running around like chicken's with their heads cut off for fear he might pull another WICKED#4 incident.
PHILO: All the more reason to have Press in this match. It's going to be the immovable object versus the irresistible force, and when these two finally get in the ring, all doubts will be put aside as to who it is that's going to steer PAW's future. I think even you can agree, it's a scary prospect to think of Stevie Harris behind that wheel.
CHARISSA: Not denying it, but I'm just saying, the guy is a work of art in the ring, and this being no holds barred, in my opinion, even's the playing field to the size and power that Press brings with him.
PHILO: You might be right, Charissa, but I'm getting some voices in my earpiece that are saying we've got some developments in the back, which gives me just enough time to roll this up, and get set for our opening bout.
CHARISSA: Um...Philo, who the fuck is that?
PHILO: WHERE IN THE HELL IS SECURITY?!
The figure brings a microphone to his lips and begins to speak.
Man: From the chorus of boos, I’m assuming many, if not all of you, knows just who the fuck I am and for those of you who are to stupid to realize it, let me introduce myself. My name is John Champa, I’m “The Big Shot”, Mr. Greatness in the Flesh, and I’m the true face of Ground Zero Wrestling.
John glares around at the crowd, many of whom are still booing him out of the park.
John: You idiots continue to boo a real Champion, a true wrestler. I’m the heart and soul of the Greatest Company to ever grace this World, but you people, you so called Purist are nothing more than some second rate, bottom of the barrel promotion, who is out to try and prove yourselves worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as Ground Zero Wrestling. You want so bad to show the world that you belong, to show the world that you have what it takes to draw people into your world, and rape them of their hard earned cash without offering anything in return.
John: You boast about the fact that you have a long list of talent to help bring you to the top. People like Munin, Alex Cross, whom I’ve defeated time and time and time again, some other fucks by the name of Luke Knux, “Hungry” Jack something-or-another, and you people expect to actually be called a “Wrestling” company. There is no one here who has the balls to stand up to me and force me to leave this ring. You people are craving a real Champion, a True WRESTLING Champion, and here I stand.
John: I’m tried and True and I’ve stood tall against everyone….EVERYONE that has ever stood in front of me, including your precious “Lady” Munin. You have never seen anyone like me, I’m Brash, Cocky and the best fucking thing to ever happen to professional Wrestling. You people wanted a war with the best, now you got one. Ground Zero Wrestling is here to take this place over, and give you people the Champion you need, the champion you want and the Champion that will take you to places that no one on your current roster can even come close to.
John: I’m John Champa, Mr. Greatness in the Flesh, and I will go through any and every one of your pathetic heros and show you just what a true wrestler looks and acts like. You want a fucking war….now you got one. You wanted this…you wanted to play with the big boys so don’t run when the bully comes for your ass.
Suddenly "The Dope Show" by Marilyn Manson blares through the P.A.W. loud system and the crowd, along with Champa, very unsure of this theme music turn their attention toward the entrance.
PHILO: Well, now the shit really has hit the fan!
CHARISSA: Is that who I fucking think it is?
Dressed in jeans and an official Pure Amusement Wrestling t-shirt, William Saint walks out.
PHILO: That's The Mongrel from GZW2K1! Holy shit! Has he come to join sides with John Champa?!
CHARISSA: This is crazy, Philo! What the hell is going on around here?
John smiles as he sees a face from GZW, and extends his arm out to the waiting Mongrel.
PHILO: From the looks of things it seems as if The Mongrel is indeed here to join his GZW2K1 compatriot.
CHARISSA: This doesn't look good for Lady Munin. But hey, when you call down the thunder....
Saint returns a gap toothed smile as he proceeds to make his way to the ring. Once there he steps over the top ring rope before gesturing for a microphone.
SAINT: It's been a few months, Mister Champa.
The near seven footer extends his hand out to the Big Shot. John grips the hand of Mongrel.
JOHN: Mongrel, you don't mind me calling you that do you? i mean I don't know you as William Saint or Saint William like these people do, it's always been Mongrel to me. But now that we have all the pleasantries out of the way, I'm glad that you're out here to contribute and join the cause.
PHILO: IT’S TRUE! IT’S TRUE!
CHARISSA: Will you be quiet! I want to see this.
JOHN: We will show these second rate fucks just what true Wrestling is all about.
Saint rubs his goatee as he looks out to the now raucous jeering crowd.
SAINT: Actually I would prefer William or Saint, Mister Champa. But if you simply cannot restrain yourself I suppose that Mongrel would have to suffice.
JOHN: Ok, William, if that's how you want it, then I will be happy to oblige your request.
SAINT: Thank you.
JOHN: Did you come out here to formally dedicate yourself to the cause, the Takeover of this wretched place, by Ground Zero Wrestling? Ludging by the look in your eyes there appears to be something more pressing on your mind...William.
Crowd: P.A.W.! P.A.W!
CHARISSA: I wish our crowd would shut the hell up! William Saint is about to speak.
SAINT: There is actually quite a bit that is pressing upon my mind, Mister Champa. Events such as the corporate issues of Ground Zero Global pertaining to our beloved GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 or the treasonous actions of the current "Wild Card" Eddie Knoxville Television Champion and World Heavyweight Champion. Yes, Mister Champa, there are pressing matters on my mind.
JOHN: I will take care of our treasonous Gzw2k1 World Heavyweight "Paper" Champion, you leave her to me. She has these people here actually believing in her. Believing that she is something to cheer for, something to root for. She has them thinking that she will fight for them and defend their honor, but they are forgetting what she has done to the fans of Ground Zero, what she has done to the Company that I helped to build with my own fucking blood, sweat and tears. She will pay, oh yes she will pay, as will the common folk around here at P.A.W.
Of course more boos rain out from the now very anti-GZW2K1 crowd.
SAINT: Much of your verbal tirade rings with an air of truth, Mister Champa, especially when it deals with that actions of Lady Munin. But you will come to see that your perspective concerning Pure Amusement Wrestling might be a tad bit skewed.
JOHN: How so, William? Enlighten me.
PHILO: Oh, damn! Is he saying what I think he's saying?
SAINT: P.A.W. is what GZW2K1 used to be. Before the Machine plugged itself into it. And yes it might be home based in an amusement park yet those on the roster have no problem with that. They are not motivated by the treasure coffers of the Machine. They are not mesmerized by the proverbial carrot that the Machine dangled in front of the Globalstars of Ground Zero Global. No, Mister Champa, P.A.W. is not a "bottom of the barrel promotion".
JOHN: Wait, Mongrel, are you actually defending these people? These so called purist, here to save the World of professional Wrestling. A World that doesn't need saving by the ideas and methods of backyard "rasslers". Since when have you been the voice of the opposition? You, yourself, were once mercenary for hire, that would do any job that anyone, in the machine, had the cash to provide. Deny it if you want Mongrel, but your past is always who you are. But now you, a big over grown bitch of a giant, want to be the voice of reason, the voice of these people here, who's thoughts and actions have poisoned this world, this business....MY BUSINESS. My views on these idiots aren't skewed in the least little bit, they are as accurate as the day is long.
John walks closer to Mongrel and looks up to stare the big man in the eyes.
JOHN: I'm here to fix the problem, plug the leak, stop the bleeding and if you aren't down for the cause, if you aren't here to help me turn back the hand of time on professional wrestling, then may God have mercy on your soul because I sure as hell won't.
The giant of a man stands his ground as Champa steps to him.
SAINT: My history in this sport is clear for all interested to find. Has it been spotless? Of course not. But have I ever sold my soul to the Machine? By no means have I ever.
He continues to look down at the smaller man.
SAINT: No disrespect to your wrestling prowess, Mister Champa, but your ego has always been over inflated. Your self-dubbed moniker of "Greatness in the Flesh" is by far the most asinine statement and furthest from the truth. What truly makes you believe that it will be you that will swoop in and be the savior for the sport? You are fueled by personal gain and glory. There has been nothing you have EVER done in professional wrestling that was counter revolutionary.
JOHN: I lined your pockets with money, provided by my wrestling prowess. I am the one responsible for putting food on the table for your family, by my own goddamn blood and sweat. I am the one responsible for the lives that everyone in this business lives, from the fans paying their money, to those who choose to partake in it. It is by my ability that this business thrives. I've done more in this single monologue that you've done in your entire fucking career. You want these people to believe that just because you're damn near 7 feet tall that you stand head and shoulders above the rest. You want them to believe that because of your sheer size that you are the end all, be all of professional wrestling. You want them to believe that no one smaller than you is capable of putting you down, but I can assure you that I'm more than capable. Just like I'm more than capable of running through any and everyone on this pathetic roster that P.A.W. has put together. Even if I have to do this alone, the job will get done and at the end of the day Ground Zero Wrestling's banner will stand alone, in the halls of P.A.W. and all will sing in unison......THE SAGA BEGINS...
SAINT: I always fathomed whether you were truly delusional, Mister Champa, and now I have conclusive proof. This conversation is over. Go back home to GZW2K1.
Saint tosses the microphone out to the ring announcer and turns his back on Champa in order to leave. Before the big man can take a step, Champa grabs him by his arm, turns him back toward him, and lays the giant down on his back to the canvas with a thunderous right hook to the jaw.
JOHN: DON’T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK TO ME!!
PHILO: What an asshole!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but he just knocked that big ogre out! Hey, do you think Mongrel and Press will fight to the death for that mantra?
It is clear now that Champa has knocked out Saint with his infamous brass knuckles due to him smiling evilly at his loaded right fist.
JOHN: This is just a taste of what this place is in for. You waged the war and now Ground Zero will finish it. Bow before us or fall at our hands. The choice is yours.
John glares down at the fallen Mongrel and rips off his P.A.W. shirt. He looks at the shirt. He looks at the jeering crowd.
PHILO: Oh, come on! That's enough!
CHARISSA: There's no such thing!
PHILO: Who's side are you freakin' on, Charissa?
With a maniacal laugh Champa proceeds to wipe his behind with the tattered shirt before then tossing it out into the pro-P.A.W. audience.
CHARISSA: Well, that wasn't the ending to this strip tease that I was hoping for...
PHILO: God damn, I want someone in security to escort this bastard out of here!
Champa steps over the barely conscious form of William Saint and exits the ring and back through the crowd from whence he came, just as 4Loco and a security detail arrive.
Samedi turned from the spectacle that is John Champa leaving William Saint (The Mongrel) in the ring. A slight frown of concern lines his typically smooth dark skin, his dark eyes reflected the ember burning at the end of his cigar. After blowing out a plume of smoke that billowed past a no smoking sign, he turned his gaze to his lovely companion.
MUNIN: So the first move is made…I expected Champa’s actions, but Mister Saint that was a surprise.
He paused to examine her profile, at least as much of it as he could see due to the shadow. Munin's hair fell around her like wisps of the shadows she rested in, her dark eyes never wavering from the ring.
SAMEDI: You are playing a dangerous game little raven. Gambling with more than your honor...Do you honestly think the pay off if you win will be worth it?
Reaching out a careless hand Munin plucked the cigar from her friends hand, and took her time drawing smoke from it's flame. Her exhale sent phantom tendrils to wraps around her in grey coils.
MUNIN: Oh yes my skeleton friend it will be well worth it if we win, but only if we lose.
With a small grating chuckle and a grin as skeletal as his nickname, he plucked the cigar back from her lightly.
SAMEDI: My how mysteriously criptic. People will think you have been taking lessons from me.
Munin finally pulls her own dark gaze away from the show to look at her friend.
MUNIN: Stop dwelling Samedi, and pay attention to what is in front of you...It's not every night that stars are born.
Munin's gaze was pulled inexorably back to the ring, before her velvet voice had finished wrapping around her last sentence. Sam's own eyes followed suit with a small smile of pride tugging at the edge of his mouth. She was right. His boys would be out there tonight, and this would be their time to shine.They deserved their time in the sun, and he was pulling for them to get it. The fact that he had placed very steep bets on their wins may have also factored into his suportiveness. It seemed like they could all use a little luck tonight, and the thought pulled another rough chuckle from the tall man's throat.
SAMEDI: Luck be a lady tonight…
SINGLES MATCH
'LOST BOY' RUFIO versus FLAMING YOUTH
PHILO: Looks like a warning from Samedi to Lady Munin about her actions previously on GZW.
CHARISSA: Are we even allowed to talk about that?
PHILO: I don't know why not, considering two of their roster just showed up on our T.V. sets.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and it's left us all a little bit shaken.
PHILO: Alright, let's try and focus on something else, like the opening bout of the night, and we've got Rufio in the ring ready for action.
CHARISSA: You know, they could have at least sprung for this guy to have a ring entrance this time, it being the Super Show and all.
PHILO: Well, that's not our call to make, and either way I think we know what happens ne...
Before Philo can even finish his sentence 'Stranglehold' by Ted Nugent opens over the arena speakers, and the fans begin to cheer as red strobelights flicker all around the building, and finally settle on the entry way where the silhouette of Flaming Youth can be seen standing in the curtain. These words can be seen clearly up on the big screen.
YOUTH IS A MINDSET
MY FLAME IS ETERNAL
At the chorus of the song he bursts through the curtain, and spins around on the rampway, reaching out to the crowd who scream in adulation. He comes to a teetering stop facing the ring, a coy grin on his face, and pauses for Rhonda to give him his cue.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing at this time, standing at 5'10" tall, weighting in at 195 lbs. Hailing from right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, he represents one half of The BombTrax...FLAMING YOUTH!!!
Youth takes off into a sprint to the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope, and popping up with his hands over his head. Dashing over to the corner he bounds up to the second rope, and scans the crowd, talking jive as the fans soak it all up. With a short hop, he spins so that he’s now facing his opponent. He flashes Rufio a grin, and comically shadow boxes around the ring.
PHILO: Alright, there's the bell, and this mother fucker is live!
Youth and Rufio circle the ring a few times before both meeting in the center to lock up. Almost immediately from the collar and elbow, Rufio reaches back, taking Youth by the wrist, and takes him into an armtwist. Youth slaps at his wound up shoulder, and then reverses the maneuver into one of his own, which is quickly reversed as well by Rufio. With his arm tangled up once again, Youth looks for an exit, but this time Rufio has a tighter lock, so he ducks his head and rolls down to the mat on his back to alleviate the pressure. Once there, he kips up to his feet, grabbing Rufio's wrist in the process, goes into an armtwist, but then places his other hand in the insertion of Rufio's elbow, and comes up behind him into a hammer lock.
Rufio looks for an escape through the legs and around the side, and finding none, he reaches up, hooks Youth by the back of the head, kneels down into a squat, and then jumps up into the air into a somersault, forcing Youth to let loose the hold or be thrown back to the mat. Landing behind youth, he swiftly hooks him around the waist, and pushes him forwards into the ropes. When Youth's chest bounces off the top rope, Rufio uses the momentum to pull him backwards into a roll up pin.
PHILO: Action is fast and furious here, and there's 1...2...NO! Youth able to slip out by rolling all the way back onto his knee's, and he grabs Rufio by the ankles, yanking his feet out from under him so that he smacks the mat face first!
CHARISSA: These two aren't going to be able to keep this pace up for long!
After Rufio's face strikes the mat, he floats over his back to land near his head, locking him into a front face lock. Rufio struggles for a moment, but then moves up to his knee's, and finally to his feet, forcing Youth to do the same. Still finding himself trapped, he wraps his arms around Youth's waist, and lifts the flyer up into the air, and bends backwards into a northern lights suplex into a bridge for the pin.
1...
2...NO!
PHILO: Youth kicking out of that, and now wrapping his arms around Rufio who is basically laying on top of him, and look at the strength displayed by Youth.
CHARISSA: Pretty Impressive. Lifting his weight and Rufio up into the air, twisting around once on their feet, and then twisting again, trapping the arms, and dropping to his knee's for a backslide pin!
PHILO: Hey, now! You stick to color!
1...
2...
Rufio slips out of the pin by swinging his legs forwards so that, not only do his shoulders come up, but he lands on his feet in front of Youth, who is still on his knee's. When Youth looks up, Rufio hops up and snaps his feet forward into a short dropkick that sends Youth thundering back to the mat.
PHILO: Wow, this has been a clinic in fast and furious technical wrestling. It's going by so quick I can't hardly keep up, but I think that kick to Youth's head might have just slowed things down.
CHARISSA: Yeah, remember that rumor that's been floating around online. Youth might have a concussion!
PHILO: If that's true, a shot to the head like that won't help matters.
Youth is slow to get up as Rufio steps over to the corner, and hops up to the second rope. He begs for his opponent to get to his feet, and when he does, he launches himself for a cross body. At the last possible second, catches Rufio, using the man's momentum to twist him around into a vicious power slam.
PHILO: Wow! Huge move from Youth, and he's going for a pin!
1...
2...
3NO!
CHARISSA: Looks like that Lost Boy isn't ready to go back to Never Land just yet!
Youth rises up to his feet, bringing Rufio with him, and takes him by the wrist before pushing him back into the ropes, and sending him for the ride. As Rufio rebounds, Youth goes for a clothesline, but Rufio ducks it, continuing his momentum to the other side. Rebounding again, Youth goes for his Slow Burn super kick, but Rufio is able to roll underneath it, pop back up, and continue with his momentum. Coming back at him faster now, it's all Youth can do to drop the shoulder, but Rufio meets this with a soccer like boot to the chest that sends Youth upright. Rufio goes for a kick to the midsection, but Youth is able to catch it, and Rufio is left to hop on one leg as the flyer stares across the trapped limb at him.
PHILO: Youth has Rufio in a compromising position here, and OH! INZUGURI BY RUFIO!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and Flaming Youth just crumpled up like an accordion!
Rufio plays to the crowd, who half cheer, half boo him, as A-Ref makes to check on Youth. Rufio's taunts end when he looks back at his opponent, and see's that he isn't moving at all. A-Ref shakes Youth's shoulder a few times, and then checks his pulse, before calling for help from the back. Rufio looks on stunned, not believing what he's seeing, as the house doctor and paramedics rush down the entryway. The fans fall into a hush, as do the announce team, as the paramedics enter the ring to confer with A-Ref. Rufio steps over, a look of concern on his face as he tries to tell Youth that he's sorry.
PHILO: Well, I don't really know what to say....I don't think anyone expected this.
CHARISSA: I guess those rumors about a concussion were true, Philo. Still, this sort of sucks.
Press appears in the entrance, and trots down to the ring, rolling in under the bottom rope to join the conversation. The EMT's and Paramedics make to move Youth onto the gurney, but the young man suddenly come's to, confusion spread across his face. He begins to knock the EMT's hands away, but a calming word from Press seems to calm the situation down. As he's rolled to the edge of the ring, the EMT's prepare once again to place him on the gurney, but he waves it off.
The fans come out of their seats in applause as Press takes one side, and Rufio the other, and they help Youth gingerly onto his feet. The three tentatively make their way towards the back, followed by the EMT's and Paramedics.
PHILO: Well, we're sorry about that folks. It just comes with the job sometimes.
CHARISSA: Yeah, but it's hard to watch someone get injured. Hopefully he'll make a speedy recovery. Hrmph. Maybe this is payback for what happened to Cross Recoba at the hands of Press.
PHILO: Come on, Charissa. Don't say shit like that. It's not like Cross Recoba didn't throw everything but the kitchen sink at Press in that match.
CHARISSA: Yeah, but you know just as well as I do, that karma can be a bitch. I mean, who knows how long either man will be out after this.
PHILO: I don't know, and I don't want to think about it. Matter of fact, it'd be great if we could cut backstage or go to a commercial. I've got to do my thing if I'm going to continue tonight.
Your up to the minute E-Wrestling news source!
FIRST EVER PAW LAST MAN STANDING FOOD FIGHT MATCH
(To take place off site at the local Purity Kroger)
LUKE KNUX versus 'HUNGRY' JACK SWANSON
#1 CONTENDERS MATCH FOR THE PAW CHAMPIONSHIP
PHILO: Do you know what time it is Charissa?
CHARISSA: Time for you to be a gentleman and finally pass that joint?
PHILO: Nope, it's time for the first ever PAW Last Man Standing Food Fight!
CHARISSA: Really? You're just going to ignore me like that. Haven't you ever heard of puff, puff, pass, mother fucker?
PHILO: Sure, and under normal circumstances I'd probably be more than willing to share, but I'm on a limited supply tonight, and I got a feeling that I'm going to need it before this show is through.
CHARISSA: That's not cool, Philo. I thought we were partners.
PHILO: Listen, this match isn't even going to take place here. We've got camera crews set up at the local Kroger here in Purity, Louisiana, and when we cut to those, then I'll think about sharing. But you better not be one of those bitches who takes ginormous hits just cause it's free. I swear to God, if I don't have enough to get through this show I'm gonna be pissed!
CHARISSA: Philo! I'm insulted! What do you take me for? It's not like this is my first rodeo for crying out loud.
PHILO: Hold that thought, I'm getting word in my headset that this shit is about to go down.
CHARISSA: That's another thing! Why are you always the one getting messages in the headsets? What? I don't fucking rate an update around here?
The camera pans away from the announce team, and settles on the big screen above the rampway, which flashes to a live shot outside of a Kroger grocery store. The parking lot is clear of any cars, although a few stray buggies line the corrals close to the front door. One of the extra officials called in for the event leans against the building, smoking a cigarette, and awaiting the action to commence.
Just then, the broad shoulders of 'Hungry' Jack Swanson appears in the camera's view, all but blocking out the grocery store in front of him. As he makes his way towards the front entrance, the camera follows behind, taking up a position to look over his shoulder. When he reaches the double doors marked with 'Enter' signs, they whisk open on automated rollers, and Jack steps inside. He looks around the front vestibule warily, checking behind the rows of buggies that await customers coming to the market. He pauses in front of a RedBox machine long enough to view a few of the titles, before making his way through another set of automatic doors leading into the front check out area.
CHARISSA: Did you see that Philo! They have Sharknado 4 at RedBox! We are so making a stop at Kroger on our way out of here!
PHILO: I've got the strangest feeling that there isn't going to be anything left of that Kroger once Luke Knux and Swanson finally find each other.
'Hungry' Jack slowly makes his way past the customer service desk, and into the main front check out spot. There are 10 lanes where, usually, customers would be lined up ready to make their grocery purchases, but today they were empty of both workers and patrons.
CHARISSA: Let me ask you something, Philo. Why the hell are there 10 checkout lanes, when they are only going to open four at any given time? Don't you just hate that shit!
PHILO: Hell yeah! I always end up in a line backed all the way up to the main action aisle, and all I've got is a bag of Cheeto's and a case of IPA, and I'm stuck looking at a bunch of empty lanes that could be utilized if the two flirty assistant managers over by customer service would just get off their....OH SHIT!! LUKE KNUX CAME OUT OF NOWHERE WITH A SHOT FROM BEHIND ON JACK WITH WHAT LOOKS LIKE A FILING CABINET DRAWER! He must have been hiding in the managers office behind the customer service counter!
Jack, who doesn't leave his feet, but is thrown forwards to lean against one of the checkout lane conveyor belts, is obviously dazed, as Luke Knux tosses the drawer off to the side scattering shipping papers everywhere. Before Jack can recover, Luke slips into the checkout cubicle, grabs the electronic scan gun, and begins clubbing his opponent over the head with it. Jack is in total disarray when Luke pauses long enough to pull the wire microphone attached to his checkout light over to his mouth.
LUKE KNUX: I'm going to need a price check on an asshole, please!
The fans in the arena burst out in cheers and laughter, and almost as if he can hear it, Luke flashes a grin at the camera. The pose doesn't last long, however, as Jack reaches out with both hands and takes Luke by the throat, dragging him out of the cubicle and up onto the conveyor belt. He chokes the man for a few seconds, before scooping him up, and chucking him into the candy bar wrack that separated the aisles. Candy, gum, and those other Nick Knacks that are always found at the front end of grocery stores, went flying everywhere, and Knux hit the shelves so hard that he toppled them over, landing in the next aisle over. Swanson reached down for a piece of shelving, and as Luke pulled himself to his feet, he turned around only to get clocked with the piece of steel.
PHILO: Luke Knux just took a shelf to the face, and it knocked him out into the main action aisle!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and Jack doesn't look like he's wasting any time as he stumbles over the mess he made in checkout.
Jack finally finds solid footing again, and stalks towards Knux, who has pulled himself halfway up with a pallet of Beanie Weanies, on special 10/$10. Just as Jack was about to reach his opponent, Luke spins on his heel, rapid firing cans in Swanson's direction. Several of them miss, but one stray can strikes Jack right in the forehead, causing him to lean forward, and reach up to cup his face in pain. Luke, seeing his opportunity, rushes forwards, hooks Jack around the head, and delivers a spinning neck breaker right there on the tiled floor.
CHARISSA: Dang. I sure hope he got his ten dollars worth.
PHILO: I'm more concerned with how both men smacked that tile floor. That's got to be brutal!
Luke is slow to pull himself up to his feet, as Jack rolls over onto his stomach, and crawls towards the cereal aisle. Luke stalks after him, reaching up and yanking boxes of Cap'N Crunch and Fruity Pebbles down onto Jack, more or less for effect rather than to do any real damage. When they reach the pancake syrup, Luke grabs one of the few containers that's made of glass, and brings it down on the back of Jack's head. The jar bursts, covering both men in sticky syrup, and injuring Luke's left hand from a shard of glass. He winces as he pulls the glass out, blood pouring from the wound, and mixing with the syrup. He makes his way to one of the support columns of the grocery store that has a paper towel dispenser and a fire extinguisher attached to it. He wraps the bloody hand in paper towels, and then reaches for the fire extinguisher, ripping it from the post.
Luke turns around ready to fire, but much to his surprise Jack is back on his feet, and before he can figure out how to operate the mechanism, the big man rushes forwards, spearing Knux around the midsection. Instead of going down, however, he lifts Knux up into the air, continuing to sprint down the aisle with him on his shoulder, before spilling out into the back action aisle where the meat department is. Jack comes to a sudden stop, letting loose of Knuxy, who soars through the air only to crash back first into a bunker filled with various types of bacon and sausage.
PHILO: Oh god...
CHARISSA: This is about to get graphic, isn't it?
Knuxy slumps to a seated position, resting his head on the large metal bunker, and clutching at his injured back. Swanson, still covered in syrup, and looking like a man ready for murder, rushes towards Knux, and at the last second turns, crushing Knux's skull between his ass and the metal bunker. Jack steps out of the way, and Luke falls the rest of the way over into the floor, clutching at his injured head with his good hand. Jack reaches into the bunker, and produces several links of cellophane wrapped sausage, bringing the meat out into view of the camera. The crowd, anticipating what might happen next, was going ballistic, not that Jack could know, as he spun the meet over his head like a bull whip, and then brought it down to crack against Knuxy's back. Luke let out a cry of pain as he tried to crawl away, and Jack followed, hovering over him, bringing the sausage rope down across his back again, and again, and again.
PHILO: 'HUNGRY' JACK SWANSON IS PUNISHING LUKE KNUX WITH HIS SAUSAGE!!
CHARISSA: How did we not see that scenario coming from a grocery store match?
PHILO: I don't know, but this must be the single greatest thing any of us has ever seen!
CHARISSA: It defiantly brings an all new meaning to 'Bulk' Sausage.
Luke Knux scrambles to his feet in order to escape the onslaught of meat, and receives a final lash for his efforts. Swanson, seeing his quarry trying to get away, switches tactics, gripping the sausage rope with both hands, throwing the loose end over Knuxy's head, and then yanking back, turning the string of meat into a strangulation device. Luke shouts out in surprise, but his protests are choked out, as Swanson tightens his grip.
PHILO: OH MY GOD! I CAN'T EVEN...
Philo B. Pope breaks out into a fit of laughter and smokers cough, waving at Charissa Clark to continue with commentary until he can recover.
CHARISSA: (Deadpan Voice) Luke Knux is choking to death on Jack Swanson's sausage.
PHILO: It's (cough) too (giggle) much! (cough, giggle)
Luke's face starts to turn purple under the pressure, and his eyes bulge from his skull, mouth open wide with no air being allowed to relieve him. His eyes flutter as if he is fading, and Jack releases his hold on the sausage rope, allowing Knux to crumple to the floor in front of him. Swanson looks over to the official, who's helping himself to a Capri-Sun, and he drops his beverage in surprise at actually being called on. He steps over, and starts the 10 count.
1...
2...
CHARISSA: I don't know that Knuxy can get up after taking all that sausage.
3...
4...
PHILO: (giggling) Charissa, please, I can't breathe.
5...
6...
CHARISSA: Well, neither could he.
On the count of seven, Luke begins to crawl across the floor, and on eight he reaches the cheese wall butted up against the meat department. As nine rings out, he hoists him up on the edge of the cooler unit, and turns so that he's in a sitting position. Jack shakes his head, and stalks towards the haggard looking rock star. Just as he's about to make a grab for Knux, Luke strikes out with a surprise boot that catches Swanson right in the crotch. Jack looks up in surprise and pain, just as the rock star brings around a two pound block of cheese and strikes him in the face with it. The former competitive eater stumbles back, somehow able to stay on his feet, and Knux hops out of the cooler unit, and goes to work with a few hard strikes with his right fist. He grabs a dazed Swanson by the scruff of his neck, and leads him a little further down the aisle to the milk section, and then throws him head first into one of the glass doors. The door shatters as Swanson plows through it, moo juice flying everywhere, and busting all around him. Still, somehow on his feet, Luke follows him through the door, right hands raining in. They both disappear somewhere behind the milk wall, into the recesses of the grocery store's back room.
CHARISSA: Well, I can honestly say I've never seen a man toss another man into a dairy cooler.
Charissa pauses long enough to look over at Philo, who has both fists halfway shoved into his mouth and wild eyes, like a kid who's about to pee himself. She sigh's heavily, and shakes her head.
CHARISSA: Go ahead, Philo. Let it out.
PHILO: GOT MILK! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
As Philo B. Pope goes into a full blown stoner's seizure from his comical outburst, the camera's have lost complete sight of 'Hungry' Jack and Luke Knux. The sound of scuffling and broken containers can be heard coming from somewhere, and the crew, along with the official, swiftly move to a pair of double doors with a sign on them that reads 'Employee's Only'. Much to the surprise of everyone, Luke Knux's body comes crashing through the doors, and he's completely covered in what appears to be flower. The doors burst open again, but this time, an angry, bloody, milk covered, Swanson stomps out, rage sweeping over his face at the mere sight of Luke Knux. Knux, seeing the expression, turns and makes a B-line for the Deli, with Jack in hot pursuit. Knux ducks around a wooden cart with various fresh baked breads piled on it, and turns to face the angry giant. Jack, breathing heavily, reaches down and grabs the cart by one of it's handles, and lifts up in a violent motion, overturning the cart, and flinging it out of his way. Luke, startled that his barrier had been disposed of so easily, turns tale to make escape once more, but this time he is too close, and Swanson reaches out and nabs him by a fist full of hair. The sudden shift in the rock star's momentum sends him stumbling right back into the big man, who retains his grip on Luke's head while reaching down with his other hand to grab him by the crotch, lifts him in the air, and then gorilla press slams him right through the deli case. Glass shatters once again, courtesy of Knuxy's body, and he finds himself lying in a warmer filled with rotisserie chicken and all the fixings.
CHARISSA: That guy right there is ready for a picnic!
PHILO: A picnic of pain, Charissa!
CHARISSA: Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?
As Charissa confers with the big man upstairs, the big man in the Purity Kroger stalks over to where Luke Knux lay prone in the warming case. Just as he is about to call for the official to begin another count, he notices something out of the corner of his eye, and he reaches into the case, pulling back a huge turkey leg. He takes a bite, finally allowing the official to begin. Before the ref can even start, something hot and steaming comes flying out of the case, striking Jack in his chest, and causing him to stumble back into a scream. Luke sits up somehow, a metal serving tray that once contained steamed broccoli in his hand, and he pushes out of the case, winding up to strike. The pan crashes off the top of Jack's head, completely caving it in, and sends the big man down to one knee. Luke looks around, stumbling, almost out of it, and spies a watermelon display where the produce department meets the deli. He makes his way towards the large green fruit, scoops up the biggest one he can find, and then takes off in a sprint. Jack, still on one knee, is able to recover long enough to look up just in time for Luke Knux to leave his feet and jam the watermelon square into the side of Swanson's skull. Both men crash to the ground, and the melon, Jack, and the rock star all appear to be smashed. The official flicks a few watermelon seeds off his shirt, and then begins the count.
1...
2...
PHILO: Well, it looks like 'Hungry' Jack took a melon upside the melon, but the damage might be too extensive for Luke Knux to even capitalize on it.
3...
4...
CHARISSA: Both men are still down, and the ref doesn't look like his count is slowing!
5...
6...
PHILO: Wait, Jack is stirring! BUT SO IS LUKE KNUX!
7..
CHARISSA: Luke just sat up, and Jack is crawling towards produce.
8...
PHILO: Jack pulling himself up to his feet. Luke trying to stand, BUT JUST SLIPPED IN WATERMELON JUICE!
9...
PHILO: Jack is up, and Luke is struggling, I don't think he's going to make it!
Te...Luke Knux pushes up to his feet stopping the count, stumbles into a counter full of candies and nuts, goes to one knee, and then pops back up again. Jack just stares across at him, chest burned, covered in goo and dairy, a sizable whelp forming across his face from the watermelon, in a look that can only be described as disbelief. The big man stalks forwards, disbelief melting into rage as he reaches out for a grab at Luke Knux. The Rockstar clumsily ducks under the big man's swipe, slipping behind him and making a bumbling dash for produce. Jack whirls around to pursue, watching as Luke Knux reaches the tomatoes and cocks back to fire. Jack takes several tomato bombs, the red fruit not really serving any purpose other than to piss him off, and with each stride he came closer and closer to his prey. Luke, seeing this had no effect, reached out and grabbed a jar of pre-diced onions on a rack above the tomatoes, and chucked them in Jack's direction. The jar struck him right in the forehead, more by luck than by skill, and shattered, the onion juice running down into Jack's eyes.
CHARISSA: Oh god! There's nothing worse than seeing a fat man cry!
PHILO: Charissa, I think that's the least of Jack's worries. Luke Knux just hopped up onto that shelving, and RAGNAROCK N' ROLL ON JACK SWANSON!!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but that wiped both of them out! And I don't think either of them will get back up from this one!
The official comes to stand over both of them, shrugs, and begins his count.
1...
2...
PHILO: I think your assessment might have been right, Charissa. These guys aren't moving.
3...
4...
CHARISSA: Philo, a word of advice. I'm always right.
5...
6...
PHILO: Wait....LOOK! Luke is crawling!
7...
8...
CHARISSA: I can't believe it, but can he get up in time?!?
9...
Luke reaches up just as the count of nine rings out, grabbing for the counter and pulling himself to his knee's. He looks over at Jack who tries to sit up, and then limply falls back to the floor.
Te...With one last burst of strength, Luke pulls himself up, breaking the count of ten, as the official finishes the last syllable.....N!
PHILO: I can't believe it! Luke Knux just won this match!! He beat the competitive eater at his own game!
CHARISSA: Yeah, I don't believe this was quite the same thing Philo.
PHILO: Maybe not, but that doesn't take away from the fact that Luke Knux is the winner of the match! Good God, I've seen it all man. I don't even know what more could be said.
CHARISSA: You know, Philo, that might be for the best.
As the announcers fall into silence watching the big screen, the official grabs Luke Knux by the wrist, and holds his hand up as the victor. Luke, who is covered head to toe in flour, watermelon seeds, and is a complete and total mess, grins at the camera.
LUKE KNUX: What'd I say, fuckers? I'm back on top, baby!
The Rockstar makes devil horns with his hands, and extends his tongue to the camera, as the scene fades to commercial.
CHARISSA: Time for you to be a gentleman and finally pass that joint?
PHILO: Nope, it's time for the first ever PAW Last Man Standing Food Fight!
CHARISSA: Really? You're just going to ignore me like that. Haven't you ever heard of puff, puff, pass, mother fucker?
PHILO: Sure, and under normal circumstances I'd probably be more than willing to share, but I'm on a limited supply tonight, and I got a feeling that I'm going to need it before this show is through.
CHARISSA: That's not cool, Philo. I thought we were partners.
PHILO: Listen, this match isn't even going to take place here. We've got camera crews set up at the local Kroger here in Purity, Louisiana, and when we cut to those, then I'll think about sharing. But you better not be one of those bitches who takes ginormous hits just cause it's free. I swear to God, if I don't have enough to get through this show I'm gonna be pissed!
CHARISSA: Philo! I'm insulted! What do you take me for? It's not like this is my first rodeo for crying out loud.
PHILO: Hold that thought, I'm getting word in my headset that this shit is about to go down.
CHARISSA: That's another thing! Why are you always the one getting messages in the headsets? What? I don't fucking rate an update around here?
The camera pans away from the announce team, and settles on the big screen above the rampway, which flashes to a live shot outside of a Kroger grocery store. The parking lot is clear of any cars, although a few stray buggies line the corrals close to the front door. One of the extra officials called in for the event leans against the building, smoking a cigarette, and awaiting the action to commence.
Just then, the broad shoulders of 'Hungry' Jack Swanson appears in the camera's view, all but blocking out the grocery store in front of him. As he makes his way towards the front entrance, the camera follows behind, taking up a position to look over his shoulder. When he reaches the double doors marked with 'Enter' signs, they whisk open on automated rollers, and Jack steps inside. He looks around the front vestibule warily, checking behind the rows of buggies that await customers coming to the market. He pauses in front of a RedBox machine long enough to view a few of the titles, before making his way through another set of automatic doors leading into the front check out area.
CHARISSA: Did you see that Philo! They have Sharknado 4 at RedBox! We are so making a stop at Kroger on our way out of here!
PHILO: I've got the strangest feeling that there isn't going to be anything left of that Kroger once Luke Knux and Swanson finally find each other.
'Hungry' Jack slowly makes his way past the customer service desk, and into the main front check out spot. There are 10 lanes where, usually, customers would be lined up ready to make their grocery purchases, but today they were empty of both workers and patrons.
CHARISSA: Let me ask you something, Philo. Why the hell are there 10 checkout lanes, when they are only going to open four at any given time? Don't you just hate that shit!
PHILO: Hell yeah! I always end up in a line backed all the way up to the main action aisle, and all I've got is a bag of Cheeto's and a case of IPA, and I'm stuck looking at a bunch of empty lanes that could be utilized if the two flirty assistant managers over by customer service would just get off their....OH SHIT!! LUKE KNUX CAME OUT OF NOWHERE WITH A SHOT FROM BEHIND ON JACK WITH WHAT LOOKS LIKE A FILING CABINET DRAWER! He must have been hiding in the managers office behind the customer service counter!
Jack, who doesn't leave his feet, but is thrown forwards to lean against one of the checkout lane conveyor belts, is obviously dazed, as Luke Knux tosses the drawer off to the side scattering shipping papers everywhere. Before Jack can recover, Luke slips into the checkout cubicle, grabs the electronic scan gun, and begins clubbing his opponent over the head with it. Jack is in total disarray when Luke pauses long enough to pull the wire microphone attached to his checkout light over to his mouth.
LUKE KNUX: I'm going to need a price check on an asshole, please!
The fans in the arena burst out in cheers and laughter, and almost as if he can hear it, Luke flashes a grin at the camera. The pose doesn't last long, however, as Jack reaches out with both hands and takes Luke by the throat, dragging him out of the cubicle and up onto the conveyor belt. He chokes the man for a few seconds, before scooping him up, and chucking him into the candy bar wrack that separated the aisles. Candy, gum, and those other Nick Knacks that are always found at the front end of grocery stores, went flying everywhere, and Knux hit the shelves so hard that he toppled them over, landing in the next aisle over. Swanson reached down for a piece of shelving, and as Luke pulled himself to his feet, he turned around only to get clocked with the piece of steel.
PHILO: Luke Knux just took a shelf to the face, and it knocked him out into the main action aisle!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and Jack doesn't look like he's wasting any time as he stumbles over the mess he made in checkout.
Jack finally finds solid footing again, and stalks towards Knux, who has pulled himself halfway up with a pallet of Beanie Weanies, on special 10/$10. Just as Jack was about to reach his opponent, Luke spins on his heel, rapid firing cans in Swanson's direction. Several of them miss, but one stray can strikes Jack right in the forehead, causing him to lean forward, and reach up to cup his face in pain. Luke, seeing his opportunity, rushes forwards, hooks Jack around the head, and delivers a spinning neck breaker right there on the tiled floor.
CHARISSA: Dang. I sure hope he got his ten dollars worth.
PHILO: I'm more concerned with how both men smacked that tile floor. That's got to be brutal!
Luke is slow to pull himself up to his feet, as Jack rolls over onto his stomach, and crawls towards the cereal aisle. Luke stalks after him, reaching up and yanking boxes of Cap'N Crunch and Fruity Pebbles down onto Jack, more or less for effect rather than to do any real damage. When they reach the pancake syrup, Luke grabs one of the few containers that's made of glass, and brings it down on the back of Jack's head. The jar bursts, covering both men in sticky syrup, and injuring Luke's left hand from a shard of glass. He winces as he pulls the glass out, blood pouring from the wound, and mixing with the syrup. He makes his way to one of the support columns of the grocery store that has a paper towel dispenser and a fire extinguisher attached to it. He wraps the bloody hand in paper towels, and then reaches for the fire extinguisher, ripping it from the post.
Luke turns around ready to fire, but much to his surprise Jack is back on his feet, and before he can figure out how to operate the mechanism, the big man rushes forwards, spearing Knux around the midsection. Instead of going down, however, he lifts Knux up into the air, continuing to sprint down the aisle with him on his shoulder, before spilling out into the back action aisle where the meat department is. Jack comes to a sudden stop, letting loose of Knuxy, who soars through the air only to crash back first into a bunker filled with various types of bacon and sausage.
PHILO: Oh god...
CHARISSA: This is about to get graphic, isn't it?
Knuxy slumps to a seated position, resting his head on the large metal bunker, and clutching at his injured back. Swanson, still covered in syrup, and looking like a man ready for murder, rushes towards Knux, and at the last second turns, crushing Knux's skull between his ass and the metal bunker. Jack steps out of the way, and Luke falls the rest of the way over into the floor, clutching at his injured head with his good hand. Jack reaches into the bunker, and produces several links of cellophane wrapped sausage, bringing the meat out into view of the camera. The crowd, anticipating what might happen next, was going ballistic, not that Jack could know, as he spun the meet over his head like a bull whip, and then brought it down to crack against Knuxy's back. Luke let out a cry of pain as he tried to crawl away, and Jack followed, hovering over him, bringing the sausage rope down across his back again, and again, and again.
PHILO: 'HUNGRY' JACK SWANSON IS PUNISHING LUKE KNUX WITH HIS SAUSAGE!!
CHARISSA: How did we not see that scenario coming from a grocery store match?
PHILO: I don't know, but this must be the single greatest thing any of us has ever seen!
CHARISSA: It defiantly brings an all new meaning to 'Bulk' Sausage.
Luke Knux scrambles to his feet in order to escape the onslaught of meat, and receives a final lash for his efforts. Swanson, seeing his quarry trying to get away, switches tactics, gripping the sausage rope with both hands, throwing the loose end over Knuxy's head, and then yanking back, turning the string of meat into a strangulation device. Luke shouts out in surprise, but his protests are choked out, as Swanson tightens his grip.
PHILO: OH MY GOD! I CAN'T EVEN...
Philo B. Pope breaks out into a fit of laughter and smokers cough, waving at Charissa Clark to continue with commentary until he can recover.
CHARISSA: (Deadpan Voice) Luke Knux is choking to death on Jack Swanson's sausage.
PHILO: It's (cough) too (giggle) much! (cough, giggle)
Luke's face starts to turn purple under the pressure, and his eyes bulge from his skull, mouth open wide with no air being allowed to relieve him. His eyes flutter as if he is fading, and Jack releases his hold on the sausage rope, allowing Knux to crumple to the floor in front of him. Swanson looks over to the official, who's helping himself to a Capri-Sun, and he drops his beverage in surprise at actually being called on. He steps over, and starts the 10 count.
1...
2...
CHARISSA: I don't know that Knuxy can get up after taking all that sausage.
3...
4...
PHILO: (giggling) Charissa, please, I can't breathe.
5...
6...
CHARISSA: Well, neither could he.
On the count of seven, Luke begins to crawl across the floor, and on eight he reaches the cheese wall butted up against the meat department. As nine rings out, he hoists him up on the edge of the cooler unit, and turns so that he's in a sitting position. Jack shakes his head, and stalks towards the haggard looking rock star. Just as he's about to make a grab for Knux, Luke strikes out with a surprise boot that catches Swanson right in the crotch. Jack looks up in surprise and pain, just as the rock star brings around a two pound block of cheese and strikes him in the face with it. The former competitive eater stumbles back, somehow able to stay on his feet, and Knux hops out of the cooler unit, and goes to work with a few hard strikes with his right fist. He grabs a dazed Swanson by the scruff of his neck, and leads him a little further down the aisle to the milk section, and then throws him head first into one of the glass doors. The door shatters as Swanson plows through it, moo juice flying everywhere, and busting all around him. Still, somehow on his feet, Luke follows him through the door, right hands raining in. They both disappear somewhere behind the milk wall, into the recesses of the grocery store's back room.
CHARISSA: Well, I can honestly say I've never seen a man toss another man into a dairy cooler.
Charissa pauses long enough to look over at Philo, who has both fists halfway shoved into his mouth and wild eyes, like a kid who's about to pee himself. She sigh's heavily, and shakes her head.
CHARISSA: Go ahead, Philo. Let it out.
PHILO: GOT MILK! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
As Philo B. Pope goes into a full blown stoner's seizure from his comical outburst, the camera's have lost complete sight of 'Hungry' Jack and Luke Knux. The sound of scuffling and broken containers can be heard coming from somewhere, and the crew, along with the official, swiftly move to a pair of double doors with a sign on them that reads 'Employee's Only'. Much to the surprise of everyone, Luke Knux's body comes crashing through the doors, and he's completely covered in what appears to be flower. The doors burst open again, but this time, an angry, bloody, milk covered, Swanson stomps out, rage sweeping over his face at the mere sight of Luke Knux. Knux, seeing the expression, turns and makes a B-line for the Deli, with Jack in hot pursuit. Knux ducks around a wooden cart with various fresh baked breads piled on it, and turns to face the angry giant. Jack, breathing heavily, reaches down and grabs the cart by one of it's handles, and lifts up in a violent motion, overturning the cart, and flinging it out of his way. Luke, startled that his barrier had been disposed of so easily, turns tale to make escape once more, but this time he is too close, and Swanson reaches out and nabs him by a fist full of hair. The sudden shift in the rock star's momentum sends him stumbling right back into the big man, who retains his grip on Luke's head while reaching down with his other hand to grab him by the crotch, lifts him in the air, and then gorilla press slams him right through the deli case. Glass shatters once again, courtesy of Knuxy's body, and he finds himself lying in a warmer filled with rotisserie chicken and all the fixings.
CHARISSA: That guy right there is ready for a picnic!
PHILO: A picnic of pain, Charissa!
CHARISSA: Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?
As Charissa confers with the big man upstairs, the big man in the Purity Kroger stalks over to where Luke Knux lay prone in the warming case. Just as he is about to call for the official to begin another count, he notices something out of the corner of his eye, and he reaches into the case, pulling back a huge turkey leg. He takes a bite, finally allowing the official to begin. Before the ref can even start, something hot and steaming comes flying out of the case, striking Jack in his chest, and causing him to stumble back into a scream. Luke sits up somehow, a metal serving tray that once contained steamed broccoli in his hand, and he pushes out of the case, winding up to strike. The pan crashes off the top of Jack's head, completely caving it in, and sends the big man down to one knee. Luke looks around, stumbling, almost out of it, and spies a watermelon display where the produce department meets the deli. He makes his way towards the large green fruit, scoops up the biggest one he can find, and then takes off in a sprint. Jack, still on one knee, is able to recover long enough to look up just in time for Luke Knux to leave his feet and jam the watermelon square into the side of Swanson's skull. Both men crash to the ground, and the melon, Jack, and the rock star all appear to be smashed. The official flicks a few watermelon seeds off his shirt, and then begins the count.
1...
2...
PHILO: Well, it looks like 'Hungry' Jack took a melon upside the melon, but the damage might be too extensive for Luke Knux to even capitalize on it.
3...
4...
CHARISSA: Both men are still down, and the ref doesn't look like his count is slowing!
5...
6...
PHILO: Wait, Jack is stirring! BUT SO IS LUKE KNUX!
7..
CHARISSA: Luke just sat up, and Jack is crawling towards produce.
8...
PHILO: Jack pulling himself up to his feet. Luke trying to stand, BUT JUST SLIPPED IN WATERMELON JUICE!
9...
PHILO: Jack is up, and Luke is struggling, I don't think he's going to make it!
Te...Luke Knux pushes up to his feet stopping the count, stumbles into a counter full of candies and nuts, goes to one knee, and then pops back up again. Jack just stares across at him, chest burned, covered in goo and dairy, a sizable whelp forming across his face from the watermelon, in a look that can only be described as disbelief. The big man stalks forwards, disbelief melting into rage as he reaches out for a grab at Luke Knux. The Rockstar clumsily ducks under the big man's swipe, slipping behind him and making a bumbling dash for produce. Jack whirls around to pursue, watching as Luke Knux reaches the tomatoes and cocks back to fire. Jack takes several tomato bombs, the red fruit not really serving any purpose other than to piss him off, and with each stride he came closer and closer to his prey. Luke, seeing this had no effect, reached out and grabbed a jar of pre-diced onions on a rack above the tomatoes, and chucked them in Jack's direction. The jar struck him right in the forehead, more by luck than by skill, and shattered, the onion juice running down into Jack's eyes.
CHARISSA: Oh god! There's nothing worse than seeing a fat man cry!
PHILO: Charissa, I think that's the least of Jack's worries. Luke Knux just hopped up onto that shelving, and RAGNAROCK N' ROLL ON JACK SWANSON!!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but that wiped both of them out! And I don't think either of them will get back up from this one!
The official comes to stand over both of them, shrugs, and begins his count.
1...
2...
PHILO: I think your assessment might have been right, Charissa. These guys aren't moving.
3...
4...
CHARISSA: Philo, a word of advice. I'm always right.
5...
6...
PHILO: Wait....LOOK! Luke is crawling!
7...
8...
CHARISSA: I can't believe it, but can he get up in time?!?
9...
Luke reaches up just as the count of nine rings out, grabbing for the counter and pulling himself to his knee's. He looks over at Jack who tries to sit up, and then limply falls back to the floor.
Te...With one last burst of strength, Luke pulls himself up, breaking the count of ten, as the official finishes the last syllable.....N!
PHILO: I can't believe it! Luke Knux just won this match!! He beat the competitive eater at his own game!
CHARISSA: Yeah, I don't believe this was quite the same thing Philo.
PHILO: Maybe not, but that doesn't take away from the fact that Luke Knux is the winner of the match! Good God, I've seen it all man. I don't even know what more could be said.
CHARISSA: You know, Philo, that might be for the best.
As the announcers fall into silence watching the big screen, the official grabs Luke Knux by the wrist, and holds his hand up as the victor. Luke, who is covered head to toe in flour, watermelon seeds, and is a complete and total mess, grins at the camera.
LUKE KNUX: What'd I say, fuckers? I'm back on top, baby!
The Rockstar makes devil horns with his hands, and extends his tongue to the camera, as the scene fades to commercial.
#1 CONTENDERS MATCH FOR THE PAW CHAMPIONSHIP
TRIXIE versus CJ O'DONNELL
PHILO: That last match had to be one of the singe greatest things I have ever seen in my life, but the show must go on, and it looks like we're ready for our next match up. Wait...I'm getting something on the headset.
CHARISSA: None of those other GZW Fuckers are coming out here are they? If so, I'm hiding under the table!
PHILO: No, I've just received word that Flaming Youth suffered from a concussion a few weeks ago on WICKED#5, apparently due to one of CJ O'Donnell's Irish Knowledge Running Knee's. He will not be allowed to compete until the doctor's clear him, which is inconclusive at this time. If we receive further word, we'll be sure to update you.
CHARISSA: Well, that is unfortunate. I don't wish that on anyone.
PHILO: Yeah, kind of a bummer. But what better way to get over it than a #1 Contendership match?
"When the sun rises
I wake up and chase my dreams
I won't regret when the sun sets
Cause I live MY LIFE like I'm a beast
I'm a mothafucking beast"
"Ayo back to make you run around the game like its a fire
I spit acid bitch like I got cyanide in my saliva
Watch me wet and heat shit up like I'm a washer and a dryer
While I beat you in your head until you tire"
"I'm a motherfucking beast"
As the beginning notes of "Beast" begins to play, the arena goes to darkness. With the beats kicking in, "The Distinguished" slowly walks out with a huge smirk on his face as the fans welcome him with a chorus of boos throughout the arena.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: "Coming to the ring, weighing in at one hundred and eighty pounds, from Boston, Massachusetts, representing "The Unstable"! He is "THE DISTINGUISHED" CEE JAY OOOOOO... DDOONNNNEELLLL!!!"
As O'Donnell slowly makes his way down to the ring he can not help but take in all the insults and jeers from the crowd.
I'ma motherfucking beast
I'ma, I'ma fuckin' beast
I'ma mothafuckin' beast
Fucking mothafucking beast
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems with me)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems with me)
I'm a motherfucking beast right
Homie welcome to the east side, where the killers reside
We playing war games, please hide
Ain't no signs of peace, so fuck a peace sign, we ride
Bust shots from a car seat
Or maybe hang you 'til your neck is broke
Choke with you with a Stethoscope
That's how I kill a motherfucker in a heartbeat on a dark street
Caleb has reached the end of the entrance way and is making his way up the ring steps. Once CJ gets on the top steps he raises his arms up in the air which only receives more boos from the audience tonight.
I'ma I'ma fuckin' beast!
I'ma mothafuckin' beast
Fucking mothafucking beast
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems with me)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems)
I'ma motherfuckin' beast (you don't want problems with me)
CJ has entered the ring now and he takes off his black Unstable t-shirt. He rolls it into a ball and acts like he is about to toss it into the crowd but instead he drops it over the top ropes and it lands on the outside on the floor. CJ begins to stretch in the corner as he awaits for the bell to ring.
I'm a motherfucking beast!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And his opponent standing at five feet, six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred thirty three pounds, hailing from Las Vegas Nevada, she is the "Blonde Beauty" Trixie!
"Take it Off" by The Donna's plays as Trixie comes out and does a twirl to bend over and showcase her firm apple bottom to the crowd before turning around to flaunt her ring attire and bite her finger as she pauses on stage before walking in a straight line down the ramp to really sway her hips and get the attention of the guys in the crowd, blowing kisses at the guys and enjoying the jealousy of the girls in the crowd as she steps onto the apron and gyrates her hips before stepping into the ring very slowly to allow all the photos to be taken before stepping full in and giving a playful wink to the referee as she sits on the corner.
A-Ref calls for the bell as CJ and Trixie step to the center of the ring. Trixie mouths something to CJ causing him to smile and nod his head before responding in kind. Trixie quickly goes to kick CJ in the front of his right knee but he catches her foot and quickly snaps it over slamming her to the mat with force.
PHILO: Trixie tried to catch CJ off his game but he was wise to her actions.
CHARISSA: CJ put her down hard though I'm sure that's not the first time she's been put down like that.
CJ pulls Trixie to her feet and slams her down hard once again with a bodyslam. Trixie arches her back in pain as CJ pulls her up and slams her back down a second time with another bodyslam before making the cover and hooking the inside leg.
1...
2...
Trixie scoots her left shoulder up.
PHILO: CJ tried for the early pin, but Trixie is still in it.
Trixie rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself up as CJ pulls her to her feet and pushes her chest first into the ropes. She quickly rebounds off and smashes him in the face with her left elbow catching him under the chin causing him to stumble backwards. She spins around and drives her knee into his midsection doubling him over before taking a step back and rushing in with a knee lift to the face that knocks him to the mat. Trixie pulls CJ up to his feet and pushes him into the ropes before shooting him across the ring into the opposite ropes. He rebounds off and is caught in the midsection with a knee lift that flips him over her leg and back to the mat below. Trixie quickly hits the ropes and comes back with a leg drop before dropping down and making the cover hooking the inside leg.
1...
2...
CJ easily powers out getting his right shoulder off the mat.
PHILO: Still too early to go for a pin.
CHARISSA: Stranger things have happened.
PHILO: Like you working alongside me?
CJ rolls over on all fours as Trixie gets behind him and turns to look at A-Ref winking his way and blowing him a kiss giving CJ time to sit up straight on his knees. She quickly turns with A-Ref's view blocked and steps forward, kicking him between his legs dropping him back to the mat clutching his groin.
CHARISSA: She just punted him in the clock!
PHILO: Did you just say clock?
CHARISSA: Didn't want to be censored.
Trixie grabs the right leg of CJ and jerks it towards her before twisting his ankle and leaning forward putting pressure on the ankle and calf of his right leg. CJ claws at the mat as he tries to force his leg towards Trixie and break free but she digs her feet into the mat to hold her position. A-Ref checks on CJ who shoves him away as he reaches towards the bottom rope.
PHILO: So what kind of watch Charissa? Pocket, wrist, coo coo?
CHARISSA: Yes, she kicked him in his coo coo clock.
CJ rolls onto his back and with his free leg pushes Trixie into the nearby corner to break the hold. He backs himself against the ropes and pulls himself up as Trixie regains her composer and marches in kicking CJ in his right calf causing it to crumble underneath him.
PHILO: This seems more like a CJ tactic to isolate a body part and exploit it.
CHARISSA: Whatever works.
Trixie pulls CJ away from the ropes allowing him to roll her into a small package.
1...
2...
Trixie maneuvers free breaking the count.
Trixie is quick to get back to her feet and kicks CJ in the face stopping him from getting back to his feet. CJ lies on his back as Trixie drops down with an elbow drop to his chest. She quickly gets back to her feet and drops down with another elbow to the chest before rolling down and grabbing the right leg of CJ once more. She gets to her feet and goes for a figure four but CJ pushes her off with his free leg into the ropes. She rebounds off the ropes as CJ gets to his feet and drops down allowing her to step over him and hit the opposite ropes. Trixie charges in as CJ hops over sending her into the opposite ropes once more. Trixie rebounds off the ropes once more as CJ spins around and kicks her in the midsection doubling her over. CJ hooks her in a front facelock before lifting her up high and driving her into the mat with a brainbuster.
PHILO: CJ on the offensive once again.
CJ gets to his feet and shakes his right leg trying to get more feeling in it before pulling Trixie to her feet using her hair. He fires off a hard right to her jaw that stumbles her backwards before leaning in and connecting with a follow through closeline that puts them both on the mat. CJ crawls over and makes the cover.
1...
2...
Again Trixie kicks out. CJ is quick to get back to his feet and step on the chest of Trixie as he walks over her before charging the ropes bouncing off them and leaping into the air with an elbow across her chest.
PHILO: Across the fun bags!
CHARISSA: That's kind of sexist.
PHILO: Have you seen the size of those things? I'd call them fun.
CJ pulls Trixie up and dumps her out of the ring before walking to the nearby corner and sitting on the bottom turnbuckle. A-Ref warns him to stay in the ring before walking over to the ropes and counting.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: Trixie is starting to stir.
4...
5...
CHARISSA: Trixie back to her feet and back in the ring.
CJ cuts Trixie off as she rolls into the ring with a kick to the abdomen. He grabs a handful of hair and pulls her back to her feet before shoving her into the nearby corner. He bends over and drives his shoulder into her midsection forcing her further into the corner. He rears back and drives his shoulder back in once more as A-Ref warns him to get her out of the corner. CJ ignores the referee as he drives a third shoulder into her midsection before standing up and allowing Trixie to slump to the floor. With a smile he takes a few steps back before charging in and driving a knee into her face causing the back of her head to bounce off the bottom turnbuckle.
PHILO: What impact on that knee!
CJ pulls her out of the corner and hooks both legs as he pins her.
1...
2...
Thre....
Trixie reaches out in desperation and grabs the bottom rope. CJ drags her away from the corner and covers her once more.
1...
2...
Trixie easily kicks out.
CHARISSA: Trixie is hanging in the match.
Trixie rolls onto her stomach and tries to drag herself away but CJ drops a knee into her back and grabs hold of her head cranking backwards in a modified camel clutch. She screams in pain and reaches for the nearby ropes gracing it with her finger but coming up just short. CJ pulls harder trying to keep her away from the rope but with one last ditch effort she reaches once more and grabs the bottom rope. A-Ref warns CJ to break the hold as he starts counting.
1...
2...
3...
4...
CJ releases the hold as Trixie drags herself towards the ropes and out of the ring.
PHILO: CJ is really turning up the heat here. His experience in the ring is showing.
A-Ref warns CJ to stay in the ring but he ignores the order and hops out of the ring after Trixie who has crawled towards the barricade. He grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her up to her feet before shoving her into the nearby guardrail. A- Ref yells for them to get back in the ring before he starts his count.
1...
2...
CJ grabs Trixie and goes to shoot her towards the ring but she reverses it sending CJ back first into the ring causing him to arch his back in pain. She charges in and closelines him against the ring crushing his back against the edge.
3...
4...
Trixie grabs CJ and rolls him into the ring before sliding in after him. Trixie goes for a quick pin but CJ forces her off before A-Ref can start to count. Trixie gets to her feet slowly and pulls CJ to his feet shoving him into the ropes. She charges in for a closeline but he shoves her away causing her to bump into A-Ref knocking him back a bit but not out. CJ moves in to kick Trixie, apparently aiming for her crotch, but she is able to slide out of the way, and come up behind him.
PHILO: O'Donnell just went for a Cunt punt!
CHARISSA: Now that was bad form!
As CJ spins to face his opponent, Trixie goes for a low blow kick of her own, but CJ wisely catches it, holding her foot up, and keeping her off balance. He holds her limb there for a moment, contemplating what to do as Trixie hops around on one leg. CJ smirks like a lightbulb just went off in his head, and he pulls Trixie forwards by the leg, reaches up taking her by the face, and plants her with a forceful kiss on the lips. The PAW universe comes alive with cheers as CJ lets Trixie loose long enough to look the bewildered woman in the eye. Just as she allowed the stirrings of a smile, he reached up, hooked her around the head, and pulled her down into a swift small package.
PHILO: OH DAMN! HE MIGHT STEAL THIS ONE!
1...
2...
3!!
CHARISSA: That's bullshit, Philo! Toying with a woman's feelings isn't right!
PHILO: You know, just when I think I've seen everything, something else happens. Now....Now I've seen everything!
CHARISSA: God, it's like someone pulling a string only to have the doll repeat the same phrase over and over.
PHILO: Well, folks, CJ O'Donnell is your winner thanks to a kiss...and...Ohhhh....he's not sticking around to celebrate.
CHARISSA: I don't blame him! He's lucky she doesn't file a sexual harassment suite or something! Just cause they went out to dinner while they were training for their tag match on WICKED#5 doesn't mean he gets to put his paws all over her. No pun intended!
PHILO: Oh, come on...She was throwing herself at him!
CHARISSA: Well, right now, she's just sitting there in the ring with her hair down in her face, and she just looked up at the ramp way where CJ O'Donnell is making his exit.
Trixie reaches up and pulls her blonde locks out of her face, and her expression of disdain says it all. She screams so loud in the direction of the departing O'Donnell that the crowd falls into a hush, and she looks around her with wild eyes, not believing that this just happened. She gets up, amid some boo's and some cheer's, and stalks towards the edge of the ring, slipping through the ropes, and then marching up the ramp way with her fists balled up at her sides.
PHILO: If CJ O'Donnell knows what's good for him, he might want to get out of dodge!
CHARISSA: Hell hath no fury, Philo!
PHILO: And on that note, let's go to some pre-recorded comments from one of our competitors in our next match up. Jesus, I need a smoke....
The camera shot is walking it's way through the Pure Amusement park grounds, the early dusk still giving the illusion of sunlight. The shot approaches the Raike Kissing Booth, where it's eponymous owner is sitting with his staff, tonight consisting of Todd and Lydia. Johnny's hands can be seen working on something, but the counter of the booth keeps it from being viable.
JOHNNY: ...and that's why I'm not allowed back to Providence. Which personally I think is an overreaction.
TODD: You just admitted to arson! How is that an overreaction!?
JOHNNY: Hey, hey, I admitted I was there when a fire started, and arson implies intent.
LYDIA: There's a camera watching us. Do you guys really not notice it?
Johnny turns to the camera, confused for a moment, then breaking into a wide smile.
JOHNNY: Oh, hey. Hi guys!
The American Wet Dream waves vigorously.
LYDIA: Seriously, it's a giant camera. How do you not notice?
Raike shrugs, a legitimate gesture of confusion for once.
JOHNNY: I dunno. Longer you hang around the business, the more you just don't see the camera. I mean, like, sixty percent of the time any individual camera is likely not to be operating, so just 'cause one's around doesn't mean it's on. I guarantee you, stick around long enough and one day we'll have a conversation about horribly personal shit where neither of us will know we were on camera.
TODD: Won't you figure it when the person you're talking about gets all in your face?
Johnny gives a face, gesturing with his hand that that's a maybe situation.
JOHNNY: It comes up far less often then you might think. But, we've kept the people waiting, and I did request some face time. Come in, come in.
The camera now travels inside the booth, where we see The Beautiful Nightmare with a pair of red, knee high vinyl boots, a length of barbed wire, and some wire cutters. One of the boots already has pieces of the dangerous wire threaded into the laces. Shoeless, Johnny is wearing his bejeweled battle pants and a sleeveless leather vest.
JOHNNY: Well, as you can see, I'm gearing up to go to war. As proof that we all have to make sacrifices, tonight your Thigh High Thriller will be wearing only knee high boots. But I have to keep my knee clear to smash, cut and glitterize all at once. I would've liked the colors to have been a bit more consistent, but, you know, I already had these boots. Color coordinating your wardrobe to a brands...well, branding, kinda a no win, but at least I have some backup gear. And just look at what they're coming in useful for. These kicks are gonna sting, and sting hard. Everything I do tonight, I intend to make it hurt.
JOHNNY: And I've been given time to prepare. I only hope that Harris and or AC have continued to not Google me. Well, you know what, fairness, that was just Harris. Both my glorious opponents commented on the fact that everyone in this match is coming off a loss. AC was talking about how it kinda tore him up a bit, felt like a hollow prize, a pat on the back and a 'there, there.' And I get it. Had a similar reaction. Hell, there's a pretty fair chance Alex has heard the voice mail my drunk and other ass left for Munin about this. Which puts him a step ahead of me, as I still don’t know the content, and Bowie willing was too drunk to be coherent. Nevertheless, I too felt just a bit of a sting. But Alex, it's not about our last match. Pure Amusement gets it, you know, we aren't just as good as our last match. We're defined by our history. And you and I, we've done well. Why shouldn't we be first in line to be Titan of the Midway? Who else could deserve it?
Johnny pauses to cut a barb off a new piece of wire, jaw clenched in the effort of cutting all the way through. With a snap and a clink, the piece falls to the ground, and Johnny begins weaving it, debarbed side to his legs, into the laces of his boots.
JOHNNY: Alex, I'm going to make you an offer. And that offer is that we take a moment right at the start, and we make the Martyr of Professional Wrestling live up to his name. Let him die for our sins, and by our sins I mean I'm going to wail on him with a whiffleball bat that I covered in double sided tape and thumb tacks, while you do whatever it is you want to do to him. Once that's out of the way, we can tear each other to shreds, but the hell if I'm letting some computer illiterate with a shitty dye job get one over on me.
The Hedonistic Hellcat leans down and picks up said bat, sharp tacks glistening in the lights of the booth.
JOHNNY: Calvin... I don't really know where to start. Claiming you don't know me when we've already clashed. Throwing out the supposition that if you typed my name into Google you'd get nothing back. Literally repeating what you said to AC when you came around to talking about me. Accusing me of being macho. That's the one that really had me confused. You do know who the fuck I am, right? Panty Wearing Panty Dropper isn't just evocative and provoking, it's accurate. Your world of toxic masculinity is your cross to bear. I'm free, honey. The Most Liberated Man in Professional Wrestling.
An air kiss to the camera.
JOHNNY: Calvin, all you proved with your last little speech as that you're too lazy to take the step from thinking about Googling to actually Googling. Life just so hectic and enriching that you didn't have the eight seconds? I've been pro for five years now, and that's to say nothing of my screen credits. Granted not stuff that pops up on IMDB, at least not most of them. But they're there. More notable is that Google would likely have revealed my extensive experience in the death match. It would definitely have shown you the results of HoliCraze Hell. You know, the holiday themed hardcore tournament? That I'm back to back champion of? You might not have been booked any of the nights I've brought the trophy with me, but I assure you it's large, gaudy, and every inch of it earned.
Johnny grabs his flask off the counter and takes a quick swig to wet his mouth.
JOHNNY: Hopefully it would have shown you my Platinum Crown victory. I'd been full on at the business for less than a year at that point. And there I was, out wandering through a closed section of Detroit, looking for others and beating the shit out of them. Throwing people off of cliffs, Pleasure Seeking heads into concrete; they had to get an additional medical clearance for me to fight the last match of the night and guess who's still got that crown?
The Party Queen of Queens points to himself with a smirk and a nod.
JOHNNY: This is a three way match. Lucky for both of you, because it's pretty plain to see which of us has been around the block in this environment. I assure you, I know where the free parking is. I could go on about my credentials, but I A.) already have and B.) would rather finish getting my supplies ready for the night. I've spent so much of this time between the announced booking and go time just coming up with new and exciting ways to put people down, doing the pre-work that will carry me to victory. Hell, a quick rewatch of Youtube leads me to believe I'm the only one who understood this was going to happen on the Midway. Here's hoping you guys packed the right gear, because I'll be taking exposed flesh as in invite to batting practice.
The Sissyboy Savior points to the camera with his bat, and in doing so also glances at his watch.
JOHNNY: Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get these boots finished. See you soon my faeries, freaks, and fuckbois.
Johnny returns to his task as the shot fades away.
TITANS OF THE MIDWAY CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
TRIPLE THREAT
(In the Midway, there are no rules.)
JOHNNY RAIKE versus CALVIN HARRIS versus ALEX CROSS
PHILO: And here it is, a special treat for all the folks out and about in the park to see just what goes on here in Pure Amusement.
CHARISSA: The Titans of the Midway Championship, taking place out on the midway itself.
PHILO: Like a Disney parade but with way more drinking! Man, I almost wanna take off this headset and go out there myself!
CHARISSA: Go ahead, I can do this well enough for two. Maybe I'll get a raise.
PHILO: I think I'm best suited here in my commentary spot. Now let's watch the monitor.
The feed cuts to an outside section of the park, roped off to provide an area to fight in, the park lights casting a slight orange glow to the whole thing. Noticing that the camera is panning, the crowd waiting to witness first hand the inaugural Titan's championship let loose with whoops, claps, and general shouting. Many a beer is lifted in toast.
PHILO: And the Paw faithful are ready to see this match happen!
"I'm rising up
I've had enough"
"Bow down
I'm invincible tonight
I'm alive
Take a look into my eyes
This time I'ma take you for a ride
I'm invincible tonight."
Alex makes his way down the rolled out carpet, receiving a mix of cheers and insults from the crowd. Cross has come to war in his usual MMA shorts and gloves, his readiness to throw down evident from the kendo stick he carries with him. In a surprise move, Alex steps over to the barrier and starts handing out high fives, and actually smiles at a few fans, and stops to take selfies.
PHILO: Is.....Is Alex Cross taking selfies with fans?!?!
CHARISSA: Yeah, what's the deal. I thought this guy was like an Uber Heel?
PHILO: Maybe we're seeing a change of heart, Charissa, but that didn't stop him from coming to the midway prepared.
CHARISSA: He'll have to be tonight. I just hope no one takes out his eyes; like tiny pools of the Caribbean.
Before Philo can respond “Invincible” is cut off and “Your Betrayal” takes is place. If Alex Cross got a mixed reaction, Calvin Harris does not. As the crowd showers him with their dislike and disapproval, Harris just scowls, throwing out insults to a few fans, but mostly focused on Alex Cross. He carries with him a steel chair. A Ref is quick to step in between Alex and Calvin, who seem ready to start, telling them to save it for after the bell.
CHARISSA: And here comes the Martyr of Professional Wrestling, Calvin Harris. Harris seemingly pissed off to be facing two men who came up short in the hunt to be in tonight's main event for the Pure Amusement Championship, says he'd not have lost if he'd been booked.
PHILO: There's just no pleasing some people. Harris also coming off some time in rehab, so it'll be interesting to see just where he's at mentally, emotionally, even physically.
“Pure Morning” now replaces “Your Betrayal.” An excited pop from the crowd fizzles slightly as midway through the second verse Johnny still has not made his way down the carpet. Suddenly, a series of roman candles start firing from the Raike Kissing Booth, the American Wet Dream vaulting over the counter to land in a wide armed pose, inviting cheers. The PAW crowd obliges him, a quick 'lets go Johnny' chant breaking out. Raike shrugs out of his coat, leaving it on the counter, revealing a departure from his usual outfit. His short shorts replaced with battle jeans, traditionally bare torso covered in a leather vest. Light sparkles off a multitude of the Beautiful Nightmare; shining on the barbed wire in his boots, the sharpened jewels of his pants, thumbtacks on his whiffleball bat.”
PHILO: Johnny Raike, coming out here loaded for bear!
CHARISSA: Bear nothing, Johnny is ready to fight the entire zoo. He either brilliant, or a coward.
Raike begins twirling the bat and eying up his opponents. Cross and Harris also exchange a series of looks.
*Ding!*
All three men visually tense; Raike catches Cross's eye and nods toward Harris, making his move before getting a response. A big swing from the bat forces Harris back a step, the next swing deflected by the chair; a few tacks go flying. Johnny ducks a return chair shot; Calvin is not so lucky as he takes a shot to the shoulder from Alex Cross's kendo stick. Johnny drives the point of the bat into Harris stomach, bending him over for elbow drop from Cross, sending Calvin hard to the ground. Alex Cross is quick to follow up with clubbing blows to the back, while Johnny fires in kicks to the kidney area. A Ref begs him off, so Raike mentions for Cross to bring Harris back to his feet. Johnny jogs a few steps forward, turns and chokes up on the bat. Cross whips Harris hard toward Johnny, who fires in a a deep swing to the midsection.
PHILO: A beautiful line drive there from the Beautiful Nightmare. Here's why you have to be careful just how much shit you talk before a three way match.
CHARISSA: Maybe. But if it's true you might as well say it. Harris doesn't have the high profile failures of Cross or Raike
PHILO: I think Cross and Raike might be of a mindset for making that happen.
Johnny brings Harris from kneeling to standing with a series of left handed chops, grabs Harris by the head and yells at Cross to kneel. Alex does, and moments later Raike bulldogs Harris hard into Cross's knee. Harris snaps back, arms going as he tries to keep his feet, only to be met with a double suplex. Raike floats over and grabs his bat, using the grip to choke out Harris. Unlikely salvation comes in the form of an Alex Cross knee to the back of Johnny's head, sending the Thigh High Thriller stumbling forward and granting Harris a chance to breathe.
CHARISSA: Honeymoon's over.
PHILO: Cross first to break the alliance, but significant damage done to Calvin Harris so far.
Alex Cross quickly takes Johnny Raike's place, sitting on Harris chest and now choking him out with the kendo stick. Harris thrashes around and fights back, but once again is saved by an opponent, as this time Johnny Raike pulls Cross to sitting and throws him off with a Side Effect to the concrete. The Beautiful Nightmare is quick to return to sitting on Harris chest, once more bringing the bat down to choke him. Alex Cross is quick to return to his feet, pulling Raike off Harris and getting in his face. Johnny's face tightens as he tries not to yell back, eye's boring a hole into Alex Cross, and not seeing Calvin Harris surge up from the ground until he already has a hand on the back of both his challengers heads, smashing the men's heads together with a sick thud. Johnny and Alex crumple slowly to the ground while Harris returns to his knees, catching his breath and rubbing his throat.
CHARISSA: Harris arranges a meeting of the mind there, stopping the semi-coordinated attack on himself.
PHILO: Keeping your wits about you in these three way matches is key. Winded or not, now is the time for Harris to create a chance.
Wind returning, Calvin rises and retrieves his chair, laying in a shot to the back of Johnny Raike, pitching him forward. Harris turns to do the same to Cross, but the former MMA fighter reacts quickly, scrambling out of the way and returning to his feet, meeting Harris eye to eye. Harris goes for the full baseball swing, aiming a huge shot at Cross's head. Alex dodges backward, then fires in a kick to Harris side. A second swing grants the same results; a third momentarily looks like it will, but Harris hesitates on the strike, side steps the kick, and impacts the chair on the side of Cross's head. The force of the blow spins Cross around, allowing Harris to take him down with a back body drop. Harris floats over and hooks the leg.
CHARISSA: Could be it!
1...
PHILO: Don't forget about Johnny Raike!
Johnny leaps forward from his position on the ground, pushing Harris off the pin to keep the match going. The two fight their way back to a standing position; Johnny throwing chops and Harris right hands. Neither man is backing down from the other, now trading knife edge chops, the crack of skin on skin echoing seemingly through the entire park as the crowd goes nuts; showing their allegiance by booing Harris chops and yay-ing Johnny's. The shots seem to be getting to Johnny more than his larger opponent, and his speed begins to flag, allowing Calvin to throw three unanswered strikes. The Martyr of Professional Wrestling takes a moment to jaw at the crowd, catching a boot to the chest for his trouble when he turns back toward Raike.
PHILO: Those stinging kicks of Johnny Raike do a lot of damage on a normal day, but he just kicked barbed wire right into Harris's chest!
CHARISSA: And that's going to leave a mark. Still, almost feels like cheating to have barbed wire on you before the match.
PHILO: Anything goes on the midway, partner.
Raike follows up with another quick strike, then a third, opening up a group of small cuts on Harris. A forth and fifth find the mark, and Johnny exploits the pain he's causing with a well placed lung blower. The pain from the fall shows on both me, with Johnny more quickly able to regain his feet. He flexes his back, then drops down into a sprinters crouch, waiting for Harris to rise. As Calvin's head lifts off the ground Johnny charges, only run right into an Alex Cross chair shot The Hedonistic Hellcat takes the blow to his face, falling as though shot. Cross follows up with a shot to the back of Harris, before dropping the chair and getting Calvin in a headlock.
PHILO: Yeah buddy! With all that's going on, I forget to keep an eye on Cross, and it looks like Johnny Raike did too.
CHARISSA: Here's hoping that chair shot didn't mess up that pretty face of his. He should really be wearing a protective mask, something.
PHILO: About the only piece of protective gear Raike didn't grab, and he's regretting it now. Cross in control of Harris now, dragging him toward the midway games. What's he got in mind?
As they get close to the booths, Alex releases the headlock and whips Harris into the nearest booth, being one of the turkey leg vendors. Harris stumbles forward into Cross's waiting arms, and he finds himself once more whipped at the turkey booth, hitting the counter and flipping head over heels into the interior of the stand. Alex Cross walks around to the open side of the booth, and goes to retrieve Harris, but a rake of the eyes stops his attack, and Harris is up, grabbing Cross by the back of the head. He looks around at his surroundings, gaze settling on the deep frier, peanut oil bubbling. With a look of unhealthy glee Harris walks Cross over to the super hot liquid, attempting to throw him face first into the oil. Cross gets his hands down to block, face contorting in pain from the heat. Harris pulls Cross back and tries again, but again Alex stops himself from a trip to the frier. He begins to fire elbows to the midsection of Calvin Harris, finally forcing enough distance to clothesline Harris to the ground.
PHILO: Harris just tried to cook another competitor. How sick do you have to be to do that to another man?
CHARISSA: Everything is legal and we dropped them into an amusement park. What was Harris supposed to do, not take advantage of the situation?
PHILO: When you cross the line to attempted murder, probably.
Cross starts grabbing anything not nailed down and throwing it at Harris. Cups of ice, trash cans, a sack of flour and an entire defrosted turkey rain down on the Martyr. Cross drops down to make the cover, though the confines of the turkey booth make it hard for A Ref to get in position.
One...
Tw-Kickout!
Cross looks at A Ref with a touch of anger in his eyes, but stays on Harris, whipping him out of the booth. Harris stops before he crashes into the next booth, turns and fires off a yakuza kick. Cross ducks the kick and shoots in on Harris, trapping his leg and lifting Harris up for a belly-to-belly Regal-plex, only for Johnny Raike to come out of nowhere with a dropkick to the knee. As Cross falls, Harris shifts his momentum and gets his other leg up, head scissoring Cross into the side of the closest booth.
PHILO: What a sense of presence from Harris, though credit Raike for creating that opening.
CHARISSA: Credit nothing, Harris could have come out real bad in that exchange and instead he ends up in control.
As Harris stands back up the heel of Johnny's boot strikes home as the Thigh High Thriller lays in with a Yakuza of his own. Harris hits the ground hard.
PHILO: And just that quickly loses it again.
Johnny picks Calvin up and whips him into Alex Cross, crushing the MMA fighter against the booth. Raike follows up with another flurry of kicks, once again bringing the barbed wire to bear against Harris, opening up more cuts. Satisfied with his damage Johnny throws Calvin bodily to the ground, then turns his attention to Alex Cross. Another, if a little slower, flurry to the chest of Cross, followed by Johnny shooting in, grabbing first a headlock and then transitioning to a chicken wing. Johnny walks Alex back out onto the midway, throwing elbows to the base of the neck to keep himself in control. Spotting the water balloon race, Johnny kicks Alex forward, sending him stumbling to the booth. Johnny grabs up one of the guns and pulls hard, revealing as much of the metal hose as he can, before wrapping it around Alex Cross's neck. Johnny pulls the trigger and adjusts his shot slightly to the left as he continues to choke Cross. Quickly the clown moves to the top of the column, shutting off the water flow and relieving some of the pressure, allowing Cross to get a hand in between the hose and his neck. Johnny lets go of the hose and floats into a sleeper hold, jumping up to apply the body scissors.
PHILO: Johnny keeping pressure on that neck, not letting Cross have a chance to get back into this. Here comes A Ref to check on the situation.
A Ref is on the scene to find Alex Cross verbally unresponsive. Ref grabs the hands and let's it fall for a one. Johnny is yelling at him to check again, which he does, arm falling for a two. Again, Johnny yells and again Ref lifts the arm, but if it falls a third time is impossible to say, as Calvin Harris comes off the top of the balloon race booth with a Frog Splash, landing with force on both of his other challengers. A 'Holy Shit' chant breaks out from the onlookers.
CHARISSA: Boom, Air Harris with one hell of a special delivery! Don't think anyone saw that coming.
The field is down, everyone taking time to recover from the Frog Splash, Calvin Harris the first to pull himself to his feet with the help of the booth. Determinedly, Harris pulls Johnny Raike to his feet and lays in with a few kicks of his own, then snap suplexing the American Wet Dream and staggering away to pick up both the whiffleball bat and the kendo stick. As Johnny rolls back to his feet his is greeted by a double shot to the chest from both weapons. Pain rings out from Johnny's lips as the thumbtacks bite in, the kendo stick landing with a solid thwack. Johnny lurches away, with Harris right there to deliver a pair of hits to the back, staggering Johnny forward. Johnny hits his hands and knees, crawling forward toward the midway booths, hoping for respite, but finding only a set of strikes to the head, each one impacting by an ear. Raike is down until Harris puts him back first against the booth, gets some space in between and comes charging in for the Contact Kill, when suddenly a woman throws herself in front of him. Harris pulls up just in time to not knee the seemingly hysterical women, begging for Calvin to back away from Johnny.
CHARISSA: Hey, wait, I know her! That's Lydia, she works the kissing booth! I met her when I went down there this afternoon.
Harris seems less than inclined to stop his assault and goes to push past Lydia, but the manager of the Raike Kissing Booth drops to one knee and delivers a huge uppercutting low blow.
PHILO: Ooh. Probably should have seen that coming.
CHARISSA: Maybe Calvin should spend some more time at the kissing booth.
PHILO: Be my guest to tell him that.
Harris is stopped dead in his tracks before crumbling forward, allowing Lydia ample time to help her boss to his feet. Johnny high fives the women and makes the drink sign; Lydia hands Johnny his flask. The Sissyboy Savior takes a swig and lets out a 'woo!', swishing the next mouthful around before spitting it out. Johnny gestures to Lydia to get Harris up a bit, as once again he takes a sprinters pose. Lydia pulls Calvin, with some difficulty, from his crumble into a sitting position, and the Hedonistic Hellcat charges, delivering a huge bejeweled knee to the side of the head, a spray of glitter gilding the side of Calvin's head, sending him sprawling and unmoving to the midway ground.
PHILO: Sweet fuck! Johnny Raike built up a huge head of steam, and he smashes that deadly knee right into Calvin Harris's temple! What won't these men do to win this match?
CHARISSA: Hopefully not kill anyone. We might want to send a medic out for Harris. And for that matter, I haven't seen much out of Cross in a minute.
Johnny drops down to make the cover, not bothering to hook the leg.
1...
2...
Thr-Moonsault from Alex Cross!
PHILO: There he is!
Alex Cross is back with a vengeance, pulling Johnny to his feet and laying in with a series of hard lefts and rights, battering Raike and not letting him get a moment to think. Cross wraps him arms around Johnny, pivots, and belly-to-belly suplexs him hard into the unforgiving midway road. Johnny screams in pain, arching his back into a kick from Alex. Cross goes hunting now, returning moments later with the Kendo stick and the bat, still with a good amount of thumbtacks. Cross kicks Johnny onto his front, loops the bat under him, and pulls him back to standing, the tacks opening up little points of blood all over Raike. Once fully standing Cross uses the bat to assist him in a Russian Leg Sweep, bringing Johnny hard to the ground once more. Alex again flips Johnny over, prior to using the bat, braced hard against the ground, to apply a standing arm bar. Once that arm is under control, Cross grabs the kendo stick uses it to apply a standing armbar to the other arm. Alex pushes the tops of the weapons toward one another, causing terrible pain to Raike if his screams are to be believed. A Ref drops down to ask Johnny if he gives, but the only answer he gets is eyes closed against the pain and screaming.
PHILO: The pressure being applied on those arm bars must be excruciating. The amount of leverage Cross had right now, I'm not sure how Johnny could get out of this.
CHARISSA: He better find a way. All the blood leaking out of him, submissions will kill him. Plus, I don't know if I'd want to get with a guy with two broken arms. Seems to limit his potential.
A Ref continues to ask Johnny if he wants to give, but Johnny just continues to bellow his way through the pain. Just as it seems Johnny might be giving up, Lydia appears with a kissing booth photo cube and nails Alex Cross right between the eyes. The blow is just enough for Cross to let up on the pressure and for Johnny to bring both implements to the ground. Cross turns to look at Lydia, who is backing up as quickly as she thinks is safe while A Ref tries to talk him down, pointing out that she isn't a wrestler, and that the match is still on going. Cross finally comes to see reason, and moves to continue his assault on Johnny, but instead walks into a face full of whiskey mist! Johnny pushes himself up to his knees to slam his flask into Cross's temple, falling forward as Cross falls straight back. Alex rolls to his stomach, trying to rub the stinging alcohol out of his eyes while Johnny takes a moment to breathe, signaling to Lydia to get out of here.
PHILO: And it looks like Alex Cross can't hold his liquor!
CHARISSA: Looks like Alex Cross wandered into a handicap match. How is it fair that only Raike has help?
PHILO: Fair isn't the point of tonight's match, but Johnny is the only one to have set up his own carnival attraction.
All three men are down now, nursing wounds and trying to catch some air. Cross is first to regain himself, eyes still squinted against the pain, and he stalks over to deliver a stomp to a rising Johnny. Harris is next up and joins in on the assault, the two men raining stomps down on Johnny's prone body. A Ref instructs the men to back off, but in this environment there isn't much he can do as the attack continues. Cross puts his hand out to stop Harris from laying in more punishment, before deadlifting Johnny onto his shoulder in one smooth go, adjusting him into a firemans carry.
PHILO: He's got Raike up for a Death Valley Driver. Out there on the midway ground, that could end Raike's dream of gold yet again.
CHARISSA: He does seem in a bad way, on the receiving end of two angry men, but I guess that's what happens when you- Hey, what's Harris doing?!
Just as Cross has Raike in perfect position, a boot to the midsection from Calvin Harris stops his plan flat. Cross doubles over, Raike still in firemans carry, as Harris comes from underneath to lift Cross up in his own DVD.
PHILO: Harris is going for his own DVD on both Cross and Raike! That's about four-hundred pound of wrestler he's about to throw around.
CHARISSA: He's turning red! Be careful Calvin, don't pop a blood vessel!
Harris get's cross set, strain showing with every moment he delays, until finally he delivers the driver, bodies crashing to the floor in a scene of carnage. All three men are bleeding, and while Harris is able to sit up fairly quickly it takes him much longer to make it to where Johnny has rolled to. Harris collapses on Johnny, throwing his arm over for the cover.
1...
2...
Johnny gets an arm up!
PHILO: The Thigh High Thriller with just enough left to keep things going!
Harris looks angry at this result, and spits on the face of Johnny Raike, before rolling over and trying for the pin on Cross, this time hooking the leg.
1...
2...
Kickout!
CHARISSA: And Alex Cross still has it in him to kick out! Harris has got to be angry at this.
This time Harris looks more than angry, he looks livid. The energy of the anger brings him quickly to his feet to get into the face of A Ref, questioning his cadence, biases, and patronage. A Ref is unimpressed, responding to Harris anger by showing him two fingers. Harris pushes past A Ref and begins bringing Johnny back to standing, only to receive a handful of sand to the eyes. A chop block to the back of the knee puts Harris down on one leg, prime position for Raike's Baby Ace Crusher. Johnny flips Harris over and rolls into a small package.
1...
2...
PHILO: I think he's got it!”
Harris gives a big effort and rolls Johnny through, reversing the pin.
1...
2...
CHARISSA: Harris just about to win!
Johnny puts forth his own effort to regain the upper hand.
1...
PHILO: Raike back in charge!”
Harris reverses.
1...
PHILO: Now Harris!
Johnny regains.
1...
CHARISSA: I'm getting the spins just watching this.”
Another roll through from Harris.
1...
A kendo stick hard across the back ends the back and forth, Alex Cross laying it in with all his might. Harris and Johnny disengage from one another, Cross laying in a second huge shot to Calvin Harris. Johnny gets himself to his hands and knees, crawling a few paces away and using the nearest booth to regain standing. Alex Cross comes charging in to deliver another kendo shot, but Johnny puts up his hands and yells wait. He points to Harris and calls for a truce. Cross seems unlikely to go for it, but suddenly spins around and returns to his attack on Harris, this shot catching him hard in the shoulder. Johnny picks up his bat and lays a shot across the back, hard as he can.
PHILO: And it looks like the alliance is back on! Calvin Harris with a textbook example of why you should keep your words sweet.
CHARISSA: You say alliance, I say bullshit. If you don't like being mocked and looked down on, don't come into this business.
While the two men continue their assault, Alex can be seen lightening up a bit, and in a cagey fashion, he switches his grip on his weapon, and takes a decapitation shot at Johnny Raike. The most liberated man in wrestling, wise to the maneuver, ducks out of the way at the last second, driving the end of his baseball bat up into Alex Cross' rib cage. Alex hunches over, forced to abandon the kendo stick so that he can try and force the pain out of his aching abdomen. Meanwhile, Raike winds up, and swings for the fences, catching Cross hard across the back of the head, sending him face first into the pavement. The fans explode as Johnny points his bat at Harris, and then at Alex, and then shrugs, dropping to lay atop both men. Calvin Harris, however, is the only one with his shoulders down when A-Ref drops for the count.
1...
2...
3!!!
PHILO: I can't believe it! Raike suggested a double team on Harris, Cross tried to betray him, and at the end of the night Johnny Raike is our new champion!
CHARISSA: The first ever PAW champion, as it were.
PHILO: This is huge! Johnny Raike, proving, one more time, why he is a man to be reckoned with!
CHARISSA: And there might be even more reckoning if I see him out in the park later on tonight! Whew! Great frickin' match!
PHILO: You said it, partner. I have to give it up to Calvin Harris and Alex Cross. There were plenty of times in this contest that I really thought that either one of these men was going to take home the gold.
CHARISSA: Yeah, yeah. Everybody gets a participation ribbon, but the only ribbon that matters is being presented to Johnny Raike right now.
A-Ref steps over, and hands the beautifully crafted belt of two Titan's battling over a globe resting on the shoulders of a third to Raike, who holds the belt in both hands and stares at the image for a few silent moments. When he looks up at the crowd his usual smile is on his face, as the fans erupt into a chant of 'Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!'. Raike thrusts the championship high above his head, nodding along with the chant, as the scene fades back into the arena somewhere backstage.
The scene opens up to a shot of Press sitting on one of the long benches in the locker room of the Xayarena, his travel bag laid out before him, as he shuffles through ring gear, athletic tape, and other various items, obviously in search of something. After a few moments of this, his lips curl back from his teeth into a snarl, and he jerks the bag closed in disgust. His hand moves up to his forehead to rub his temples, and he leans forward, resting his elbow on his thigh. It was obvious something was bothering him, probably the fact that his tag team partner, Flaming Youth, had been sent to the hospital after his match at the start of the show. He knew that something had been off about his partner for the past couple of weeks, but he never would have dreamed Youth would keep an injury from him. That was totally unprofessional, and could have gotten him, or their opponents, permanently injured.
A black finger-less glove lands on top of the travel bag, the very item that Press had been looking for, and the big man swivels his head up in surprise to spot Youth standing in the doorway, still wearing a hospital bracelet around his wrist. He flashes a smile at the big man, who grabs the glove, and rises to his full height, a look of quiet rage sweeping over his features.
PRESS: I should whip your ass...
He made the comment, but it trails off, and Youth smirks, then nods.
YOUTH: I think you've got all the ass you can handle tonight in Stevie Harris. You didn't think I'd let you go out there for the biggest match of your career without wishing you good luck, did you?
Press seems to soften at that, slipping the glove onto his right hand, and then making a fist to make sure that it was properly in place. He looks up to Youth with a half smile, and nods himself.
PRESS: Even so, you know we're going to talk about all this after the show?
YOUTH: Yeah, yeah. But right now, I want you to go out there and bring that championship gold home to The BombTrax, capice?
Youth smirks, extending his hand. The big man stares at his partner for a minute, but eventually steps over and takes the offered hand and pulls the flyer in for a hug. He tousles his mop of dark stringy hair, and starts for the door. When he reaches the portal he looks over his shoulder one last time, and Youth lifts his chin with a question.
YOUTH: You ready for this?
A dark visage falls over the big man, the accompanying smile nothing but wicked.
PRESS: Time to teach the preacher the true power of God's wonders.
The Black Gloved fist fell into the palm of his other hand, and with a determined look, Press turns and strides out of the room. Youth simply shakes his head, and plops down to stare at the monitor in the corner broadcasting live footage from the arena.
YOUTH: Thy rod and thy staff indeed.
A black finger-less glove lands on top of the travel bag, the very item that Press had been looking for, and the big man swivels his head up in surprise to spot Youth standing in the doorway, still wearing a hospital bracelet around his wrist. He flashes a smile at the big man, who grabs the glove, and rises to his full height, a look of quiet rage sweeping over his features.
PRESS: I should whip your ass...
He made the comment, but it trails off, and Youth smirks, then nods.
YOUTH: I think you've got all the ass you can handle tonight in Stevie Harris. You didn't think I'd let you go out there for the biggest match of your career without wishing you good luck, did you?
Press seems to soften at that, slipping the glove onto his right hand, and then making a fist to make sure that it was properly in place. He looks up to Youth with a half smile, and nods himself.
PRESS: Even so, you know we're going to talk about all this after the show?
YOUTH: Yeah, yeah. But right now, I want you to go out there and bring that championship gold home to The BombTrax, capice?
Youth smirks, extending his hand. The big man stares at his partner for a minute, but eventually steps over and takes the offered hand and pulls the flyer in for a hug. He tousles his mop of dark stringy hair, and starts for the door. When he reaches the portal he looks over his shoulder one last time, and Youth lifts his chin with a question.
YOUTH: You ready for this?
A dark visage falls over the big man, the accompanying smile nothing but wicked.
PRESS: Time to teach the preacher the true power of God's wonders.
The Black Gloved fist fell into the palm of his other hand, and with a determined look, Press turns and strides out of the room. Youth simply shakes his head, and plops down to stare at the monitor in the corner broadcasting live footage from the arena.
YOUTH: Thy rod and thy staff indeed.
MAIN EVENT
FINALS OF THE PAW CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT
FINALS OF THE PAW CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT
No Disqualification, No Count Out, There Must Be A Winner
(All Roster Members Banned From Ringside)
PRESS versus STEVIE HARRIS
The Riverbed by Gallows blasts out over the speakers. The beat really begins to kick in when Stevie Harris steps through, a scornful grin on his face as he looks out at the crowd. Stevie slowly makes his way down to the ring, eyeing off as many as the faces in the crowd as possible.
PHILO: Here he is, the sadistic one. Tapanga Britt, Johnny Raike and Alex Cross, his path to the finals has been almost a who’s who of Pure Amusements greatest competitors.
CHARISSA: God that scornful look… I’m sold. Take me Stevie, take me!
PHILO: I’d be careful with your choice of words there, Charissa.
CHARISSA: Oh right, yeah. Well there’s something sexy about a man who takes what he wants and who has the ambition to cut through the roster with such ruthlessness.
The lights go dim as "Strangle Hold" begins to blare across the arena. Red strobe-lights begin to flicker all around the ring and ramp way, and finally settle on the entry way where the silhouette of the massive Press can be seen standing in the curtain. These words can be seen clearly up on the four small screens.
WITH THIS PASS
I CAN GO ANYWHERE I DAMN WELL PLEASE!
PHILO: Well then dry those panties off because here comes another man who has made a name out of cutting through the roster with pure ruthlessness!
At the chorus of the song he bursts through the curtain, and thrusts his black chair with the words "Press Pass" high up into the air with a grimace spread across his face. He scans the crowd as he stalks down towards the ring, followed by Flaming Youth who wears a confident grin. Press reaches the ring and throws his chair in under the bottom rope, hops up on the apron, and enters the ring by swinging his leg up and over the top rope. He knocks his head to the left & right to get out the kinks, and then throws his fists high into the air all the while letting out an animalistic growl. The crowd goes wild as he stalks over to the corner, and nonchalantly leans into it awaiting for the start of the match.
PHILO: This will be a tough match up for Harris. Coming in at Six foot eleven and holding a 130 pound advantage, Press marks a change in opponent for Stevie who’s primarily fought women and men smaller than him to here.
CHARISSA: Doesn’t matter, Hashtag I’m With Stevie!
PHILO: Press is coming into this match with an impressive four and one record. That one loss was the infamous screwjob on Wicked 2 where he accepted a briefcase stuffed full of cash from Cross Recoba to lay down. That was followed up with a Class A BombTrax beatdown of The Fox. Since then he’s racked up wins over former Ace of Pure Amusement, Luke Knux and Jack Swanson as well as a dominant statement at Wicked 5 against Cross Recoba.
The two men are standing toe to toe in the ring. Stevie’s ripped off his shirt and thrown it on the ground in between them, a defiant statement that he won’t back down. The height difference is quite noticeable but neither man acts like they care.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Once again, this match will be No Disqualification, No Count Out, All Contracted Pure Amusement Wrestling employees are banned from ringside or any participation in the match… There Must Be A Winner as this is your main event. This is the finals of the sixteen competitor tournament. This is for the FIRST EVER PURE AMUSEMENT WRESTLING CHAMPION.
CHARISSA: How many times do you think that needs to be repeated, Philo?
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: INTRODUC…
Harris shoves her and kicks Press in between the legs! Ref, seeing chaos about to unfold calls for the bell forgoing introductions and helps shield Rhonda Armstrong.
CHARISSA: These rules are confusing. Banned from ringside but no DQ? What’s to stop Flaming Youth or Johnny Raike from coming out here?
PHILO: Well, I assume he wants to stay employed.
Press hadn’t fallen completely, resting on one knee from the groin strike. Stevie lands a couple of lefts and rights as the crowd starts a loud I’m With Stevie chant. Harris pulls Press in and delivers a quick snap DDT to the man who was on a knee, fully taking him down. Stevie acts like he’s going to go for a grounded headlock but switches it up and simply puts two hands around Press’s throat.
PHILO: What is it with this guy and strangling people?
CHARISSA: Duh, it’s his finishing move. I thought you were a wrestling encyclopaedia? Did someone rip the psychology page out of your book?
PHILO: Did someone rip the Psycho page out of your book?
Press is strong and grabs Stevie’s arms, using his reach to force his opponent off of him before any real damage can be done. He drags Harris and himself up, clutching Stevie’s biceps. Press releases one of them and uses his impressive strength to pull Stevie into him, throwing the shoulder into his opponents head. It knocks Harris to the ground, who slowly starts to get up. Press grabs him by the back of his head to pull him all the way up again. He whips Stevie hard into the turnbuckle, running in after him with a corner lariat attempt that’s ducked. The big man stumbles around to catch Harris running at him. Stevie tries for some form of jumping knee strike but he’s caught mid air and twisted around for a sidewalk slam!
PHILO: BAM! That’s how it’s done!
A loud BombTrax chant starts to take hold of the crowd now. He thinks about going for the pin but knows it’s too early. He pulls Stevie up, shoving his head between his legs and calling for the powerbomb! Press lifts him up and around, before slamming Harris back down to the mat with ease! He holds onto the move and impressively brings Stevie back up. He lifts him up high and before he can bring him back down Harris shoves his thumbs into Press’s eyes! Press tries to follow through with the move to make him stop but he doesn’t get the same level of force. Once they’ve landed, Harris releases but it’s taken a toll on Press. Stevie slowly rolls to his feet and takes the opportunity to sneak up behind Press and lock in the Stranglehold (Sleeperhold) !
It’s locked in but Press is able to climb to his feet, leaving Harris dangling off his neck. He steps backwards towards the corner, slamming Harris into it He steps forward then comes back in to slam Stevie. This time Harris is able to place a foot on the ropes, allowing himself to climb the ropes and jump down to the apron with the hold still in place! One foot is placed on the middle rope with the other being used to knee Press in between the shoulders, applying as much pressure as possible!
CHARISSA: That’s it! End him Stevie, end him before another poor announce table is ruined!
Press has one arm trying to create space around his neck while the other is reaching back, trying to get a hold of Stevie. He’s struggling but his hand clasps onto the loose fabric on Harris’s pants. Press is able to pull the knee, forcing a release in pressure. He keep at it and soon Stevie’s grip is slipping. Stevie’s grip breaks and with just one foot on the middle rope, he falls backwards out of the ring… his leg being caught by Press midfall! Press impressively drags him back up and over the ropes. Harris is screaming, pleading as he’s helpless. He tries kicking but Press grabs the other leg to pull him up in a powerbomb position once more! Press lifts him up but Stevie wiggles free, pushing himself over the big man’s head. He falls behind Press and runs the ropes, coming back just as Press turns with a vicious lariat!
PHILO: Ouch! That took his head off!
1...
2...
THRKickout!
Press can’t believe it but Stevie’s already crawling to his feet. Press decides to help him out, dragging him up and forcing him into the corner. He takes a step back and comes back in with a back elbow that sends Stevie stumbling out. He takes across the ring, running the ropes and coming back with a Sudden Stop attempt that’s ducked by Stevie! Press stumbles into the corner as Harris scrambles forward to get clear. He stands and turns BOOM!
PHILO: SUDDEN STOP!
CHARISSA: NO
The big man of the BombTrax covers Stevie, hooking the leg as the crowd chants along.
1...
2....
3...
AND 3 QUARTERS
KICKOUT!
CHARISSA: YES! The match continues!
Stevie somehow kicked out, his face a bloody mess after the Sudden Stop seemed to explode his nose. Press falls back, leaning against the bottom rope momentarily. He watches as the bloody man in front of him tries to crawl towards the ropes. Press continues to watch as Harris tries to pull himself up but collapses as his hand is covered in blood, which caused the hand to slide violently along the rope when he tried to grip it. Press continues to watch as Harris instead slings his legs out of the ring, getting his feet planted on stable ground. Press continues to watch as Stevie drops to a knee, out of his sight.
PHILO: What’s he… Oh, Jesus, no. The noose is BANNED. Get security, police, anyone!
Stevie emerges from under the ring with the noose, slinging it into the ring. Press takes this as the perfect time to get up, grapping the noose and standing in the middle of the ring, menacingly holding it as it dangles back and forth. Harris rolls in but before they can continue A Ref starts trying to free the noose from Press’s hands. Press doesn’t want to give it up and a quick struggle begins. He finally relents and with that, his attention’s focused back on Stevie who’s snuck up on him with a running brass knuckle shot!
PHILO: Brass knuckles! We saw Stevie and Lola play havoc with them a few shows ago.
As Ref’s throwing the rope out to the time keeper, Stevie begins to work on Press, peppering him with body shots and the occasional shot to the face with the weapon in hand. He keeps this up, screaming random things at the big man to add insult to injury. The only thing that stops him is Harris standing and taking his belt off.
CHARISSA: Whoa, things are getting sexy.
Harris folds his belt in half and begins to lay belt shots over the abdomen of his opponent. He turns the belt around so that the buckle of the belt is connecting with each blow!
PHILO: I feel like I’m going to be sick. I thought this was a wrestling match.
He steps back, releasing one half of the belt so it falls. Press tries to roll out of the ring but as he’s doing so, Stevie loops the belt through the buckle and slips the loop around Press’s neck with his makeshift noose!
Stevie uses it to drag Press closer to the centre of the ring and starts to really wrench it in. Press’s legs and arms swing wildly, one hand is able to slip in under the belt but it’s not enough as Stevie places the belt over his shoulder to increase the pressure. Stevie yells at the ref, telling him to do his job.
PHILO: A Ref’s asking Press if he wants to quit but the big guy’s still fighting!
CHARISSA: He should give up. They made a rule to keep Stevie down but he’s worked a way around it with the belt. There’s no stopping him tonight.
The belt is pulled tight as Press starts to fade. A sudden surge of strength pulses through him and in a last ditch attempt, Press pulls himself to one knee. Harris stands and turns, still applying pressure but trying to get Press back down where he has the advantage. Press proves that all those lunges weren’t for nothing and pulls himself to his feet with the weight of Stevie Harris pulling the noose tighter and tighter. He takes a step forward and tries to whip the belt forward but Harris kicks him in the back of the leg as he tries, forcing him to collapse again. Press’s face is beginning to change colour. The fans are having Johnny Raike flashbacks as the Im With Stevie chants start to die down in favour of Let’s Go Press! He’s back to a knee again and with a massive burst of strength, Press Jones is able to whip the belt and throw Stevie Harris off of him. Stevie stumbles into the ropes and as he hits them, Press connects with a Sudden Stop that sends Stevie toppling out of the ring!
PHILO: Press is exhausted, look at him.
CHARISSA: He just collapsed in the ring. These man are lucky there must be a winner or there’d be a chance of a double count out.
Ref checks out of the ring and sees that Harris is moving on the ground. He goes to check on Press who’s laid out in the middle of the ring, slapping his face to wake the man up. After two Press is back with us and slowly taking the belt off of his neck. Outside Stevie’s pulling himself up against the guardrail as a group of fans closest to him jeer his efforts. Press begins to roll out of the ring on the other side, the belt still in hand. His legs are shaking as he tries to step but he maintains control, wrapping the belt around his fist as he starts to move. Harris, his face and singlet a mess of blood, stays hunched over the guardrail, still feeling the effects of the Sudden Stop.
PHILO: Press is uncoiling that belt. He’s got wicked intentions in mind as he sees Harris bent over in prime whipping position!
As Press approaches, he leans back with the belt in hand. He brings it around to strike Stevie but one of the fans leaps over the guardrail and blocks the shot, taking the full force of it across his face to protect Stevie! Press is shocked as another fan leaps over the barrier and runs at him. Press grabs him and tosses him to the side. He turns back just in time to see that Stevie’s grabbed one of their chairs and it’s coming down hard towards his face. Harris spreads his arms wide, chair in one hand and looks out at the crowd, a large portion of them starting the I’m With Stevie chant back up!
PHILO: I’m getting a bad feeling about this crowd. One of them just sacrificed himself to save Stevie. Another tried to attack Press, we’ve all heard the rumors about Stevie’s lifestyle.
Harris slams the chair edge across Press’s neck, holding it to cut the air flow once again. Security and a medic have made their way down to ringside, escorting the two fans backstage. The bloody faced Harris watches on with a grin over his devious face, his minions having served their purpose. He releases the chair and heads towards the ring, looking under it and once again pulling a large noose out!
CHARISSA: Can’t DQ him for using a banned weapon, baby!
Ref slides out of the ring and tries to take the noose away from Stevie but Harris lays him out with a right hook before turning his attention back to Press. He slips the noose around his neck and throws the other half of the rope into the ring. Press is helpless to stop him as Stevie climbs in and slowly begins to pull on the rope. He’s got Press dragged over to the apron and keeps pulling, forcing his body up. The 6 foot 11 giant’s feet are on the ground for a long time before he’s straightened out.
PHILO: Surely someone’s allowed to come out here to stop this? Anybody?
Nobody comes but it doesn’t matter as Press places a leg up on the apron and pulls himself up. Harris is stunned but doesn’t give up, yanking the rope to try to pull Press in. Press simple throws a leg over the top rope and grabs the rope, entering into a tug of war in the middle of the ring. Stevie’s.
CHARISSA: Press doesn’t have the strength. Stevie’s worn him out too much.
Almost on cue with the commentary, Press gives it one extra pull and it’s enough to send Stevie flying into him. Press catches him incoming and lifts him up high with a military press, dropping Stevie with a thud. He pulls the noose off of his neck and turns his attention to Stevie, picking him up and lifting the man up onto his shoulder, throwing him into the turnbuckle for a Snake Eyes! Stevie’s head jolts back and he stumbles right into the waiting arms of Press. Head between his legs, Press turns and then executes the Press Release Powerbomb clear in the middle of the ring! He falls on top and hooks the leg.
…
…
PHILO: Ref’s still out! Why do we only have one referee??? One, two, three. It’s all over come on get up Ref!
Press rolls off, he can see that no one’s coming so he rolls to the outside and grabs a hold of A Ref, pulling him up and tossing him into the ring. He grabs a hold of the chair that’s laying on the ground and tosses it into the ring with wicked intentions. As he tries to climb back into the ring another fan has jumped the guardrail, this one a middle aged women. She grabs a hold of Press’s leg and tries to stop him from entering the ring but he kicks her back as two security guards come running through the crowd to tackler her to the ground. She’s screaming about Harris as they drag her to the back.
PHILO: I hope they’ve got a big holding cell backstage for these loons.
Shrugging it off with a grin, Press rolls into the ring and grabs the chair. “Press” chants start to fill the arena as he stuffs the chair into the corner, wedging it between the top and middle rope. He turns to find Stevie once again clawing his way up to his feet. Press takes him by the back of the head and throws the man head first into the chair, leaving a bloody smear mark over the impacted spot. He pulls Harris back and throws the smaller man head first into the corner once again! Stevie collapses in the seeing that Ref is still lying motionless, Press decides to rest Stevie’s head against the chair. Crossing the ring, Press builds up a head of steam as he runs in and rams his knee as hard and fast into the side of Stevie’s head as humanly possible!
CHARISSA: If this were a cartoon, that chair would have a perfect imprint of Stevie’s face.
PHILO: I think it might actually…
Press pulls Stevie out and signals for another Press Release Powerbomb, pointing out to the ring as well. He pulls Stevie up in the centre of the ring and starts making his way towards the ropes.
CHARISSA: This is how he ended Cross Recoba’s career, somebody stop him!
Before he can release, more fans have jumped over the guardrail and into the path of the falling Stevie Harris, breaking his fall. Press is enraged, the move would have taken Stevie out for good but they ruined it.
PHILO: Oh my god, more people are crossing the barrier. 10, 15 maybe? I thought he only had a couple of followers?
Press braces himself as the so-called fans storm the ring. He takes them out with lariats and Sudden Stops, incapacitating anyone who comes near him. He grabs the chair at one stage and begins to swing for the fences, taking out intruder after intruder, clearing the ring as the adrenaline begins to take over in a show of force. One of them grabs his leg while two leap on him. He’s starting to succumb to the numbers, dropping to one knee. Press drops the chair and grabs two of them by their necks, lifting them up with an impressive double chokeslam! The one grabbing his leg is the only one still moving in the ring so Press lifts him up over his shoulders in a press and runs towards the ropes, tossing the man out onto the concrete.
PHILO: That looked like a Plan Z for Stevie Harris and Press just dismantled his following without breaking a sweat!
Press turns just in time to see Stevie Harris running at him. Press swings at him with the chair, which is ducked. Stevie hits the ropes and comes back with an elbow that sends Press reeling. The chair falls from his grip as Harris runs in with a leaping knee strike. Press is in shock as Stevie follows it up with a fast neckbreaker, taking them both down. Stevie tries to get Press in a seated position and locks in the Stranglehold once again. On the otherside of the ring Ref is slowly getting up, resting in the corner. Press struggles to fight out of the Stranglehold but he’s able to flip Stevie over to the mat. Harris is quick back up and ducks around, jumping up to lock the Stranglehold in once again. Press runs backwards and into the corner, slamming Harris off of him. He sees the chair and leans forward to pick it up. Stevie is back like a pest and leaps on Press again, trying to lock the Stranglehold in. Press is inches away from the chair, finding a way to clutch it. He swings it back and it connects with the back of Harris’s head. Stevie stumbles back and catches the chair as Press throws it at him. BOOM! Sudden Stop into the chair! Press rolls Stevie up as Ref leaps forward to count the pin.
PHILO: Oh my God! This could be it!
CHARISSA: Stevie, Noooooo!!
1...
2...
3!!!
PHILO: PRESS IS THE NEW PAW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!
CHARISSA: I can't believe it! Does this mean I have to take back all that shit I've said about him? Oh, no!
PHILO: I don't know anything about that, but now that the match is officially over, here comes Lola down the rampway!
Both men are negligent to get up, but Press is able to roll over, and crawl towards the far turnbuckle for leverage. Stevie lay flat on his back, staring up at the lights with a look of anguish and bewilderment smeared across his bloody face. Lola hits the ring, grabbing Stevie by the arm, and half drags the man towards the edge of the ring. Once there, she pulls him out onto his feet, throwing his arm over her shoulder to support some of his weight.
Meanwhile, Press has finally regained his footing, and he stumbles forwards to the center of the ring rubbing his aching neck. When A-Ref approaches him with the PAW Heavyweight Championship belt, Press just stares at it for a moment, not completely sure that any of this is real. It only takes him a moment before he reaches out tentatively and takes the championship by the leather strap, all while continuing to stare at it. A-Ref takes him by his other wrist, and then hoists his hand up in the air as high as he can reach, signifying Press as the victor.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And the winner of this match, and your NEW PAW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.....PRESSSSSS!!!
Halfway up the ramp, Stevie Harris shoves Lola away from him, dismissing her aide so that he can turn back towards the ring to witness what he had just heard. Several emotions pass over the madman's face in that moment. Hurt, disappointment, rage, and then finally settles on scornful. He flashes a wicked grin through blood stained teeth, spits on the rampway, and then turns to continue his exit.
Back in the ring, Press simply holds the championship out in front of him with both hands, before stumbling back into a corner, clutching the title to his chest with a victorious grin. He looks out to the crowd, who are all on their feet cheering and clapping, and he nods, before turning and clumsily climbing to the second rope, hoisting the title high over his head. An explosion goes off overhead, and confetti begins to rain down on the scene, as Press continues his celebration. Just as he's about to drop back down to the canvas, Youth suddenly appears, and when he turns and see's his friend, he almost loses it. Youth rushes at Press, and the two men embrace, the past 15 long years culminating in this one championship moment. The fans are deafening at this point, as Youth steps back from Press, takes the big man by the wrist, and lifts his hand once again in victory. The camera zooms in on the new PAW Champion, confetti still flying, and then fades to black.