Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 3:02:50 GMT
Live from The Pure Arena
Purity, LA
Thursday, April 14th, 2016 at 10 pm CST
Pure Amusement Wrestling
Proudly Presents:
BEFORE CURTAIN
The scene opens up to a view right outside of the Amusement Park entrance off of Route 9. Road workers are seen cleaning up some debris, as a white, two door, 1966 Pontiac Tempest pulls off the main road, and onto the stretch of pavement that would take them the rest of the way to the amusement park. It slows to a stop beside a few of the road workers, and the window is rolled down to reveal Flaming Youth, with Press in the driver's seat. Youth hangs his head out the window to get a better view of the work taking place, when one of the workers looks over and notices him. Youth casts the man a concerned nod.
FLAMING YOUTH: So what the hell is all this about?
The worker thrust his shovel into the ground.
ROAD WORKER: Apparently some asshole driving a Winnebago came through last night and took out the amusement park's sign. We're having to replace it.
Press and Youth both exchanged a glance, as the road worker leaned heavily upon his shovel.
ROAD WORKER: The only good thing about this, is it saves us the time and trouble of having to paint over the old address plate with the new one.
YOUTH: We got a new address?
ROAD WORKER: Yeah. Purity is looking to go with a more municipal style in it's street codes, so they implemented new street numbers for everyone.
Youth looked at Press with a bit of reservation.
YOUTH: I bet Munin's going to be pissed. She's going to have to get all the roadway advertisements leading to the park changed. All because of some asshole in a Winnebago.
PRESS: Well, you know what they say about people who drive a Winnebago...
Youth looks at Press with an incredulous stare.
YOUTH: Actually, no, I don't.
Press looks over to Youth, reaching down to grab the gear shift.
PRESS: They're self-centered bitches who can go eat a bag of dicks.
YOUTH: Oh Yeah! When you put it like that....
The two guffaw as the engine revs, the Posi Trac rear wheel's grab the pavement and rocket them forward towards the show.
The camera pans over the fans outside of the arena, standing in line, just before the doors open for the show. Suddenly they all seem to flock to the other end, where a men dressed in a GZW Hoodie is standing with a camera man. The fans immediately recognize the man as he removes his hoodie
JOHN CHAMPA: Once again, this place refuses to let me enter the building. I don’t know what they are afraid of, I mean they are the ones who asked for and begged for more competition. You don’t knock on Hell’s door and then piss your pants when the devil answers. I am here for one thing and one thing only and that is to prove to these fucks, those who dare call themselves wrestlers, that they are shit compared to me. But once again none of them will take me up on my challenge, but come hell or high water I will appear on the show tonight and the blood of someone is going to be on my hands.
John shook his head in disdain.
JOHN CHAMPA: PAW doesn’t want me here, they want me removed from the premises, but there is no one here big enough or bad enough to remove me. Come on PAW show me what you got, show me that you are big enough to keep me from appearing on the show. Show me that you are bad enough to stop the Big Show from running rough shod over your entire fucking roster. Here I am, come stop me you second rate fucks.
John runs up to the doors and begins to bang on the doors, as security stands on the other side, prepared if he was to gain entry.
JOHN CHAMPA: What are you fucking rent-a-cops gonna do to stop me? Are you man enough to step on the other side of this door and remove me? I don’t think so. This is fair warning to you and PAW, tonight when I show my face on the show, it ain’t gonna be pretty….oh, and I won’t be alone.
John once again pounds his fist against the glass door, before disappearing through the sea of fans waiting to get into the building.
FLAMING YOUTH: So what the hell is all this about?
The worker thrust his shovel into the ground.
ROAD WORKER: Apparently some asshole driving a Winnebago came through last night and took out the amusement park's sign. We're having to replace it.
Press and Youth both exchanged a glance, as the road worker leaned heavily upon his shovel.
ROAD WORKER: The only good thing about this, is it saves us the time and trouble of having to paint over the old address plate with the new one.
YOUTH: We got a new address?
ROAD WORKER: Yeah. Purity is looking to go with a more municipal style in it's street codes, so they implemented new street numbers for everyone.
Youth looked at Press with a bit of reservation.
YOUTH: I bet Munin's going to be pissed. She's going to have to get all the roadway advertisements leading to the park changed. All because of some asshole in a Winnebago.
PRESS: Well, you know what they say about people who drive a Winnebago...
Youth looks at Press with an incredulous stare.
YOUTH: Actually, no, I don't.
Press looks over to Youth, reaching down to grab the gear shift.
PRESS: They're self-centered bitches who can go eat a bag of dicks.
YOUTH: Oh Yeah! When you put it like that....
The two guffaw as the engine revs, the Posi Trac rear wheel's grab the pavement and rocket them forward towards the show.
MEANWHILE OUTSIDE THE PURE ARENA
The camera pans over the fans outside of the arena, standing in line, just before the doors open for the show. Suddenly they all seem to flock to the other end, where a men dressed in a GZW Hoodie is standing with a camera man. The fans immediately recognize the man as he removes his hoodie
JOHN CHAMPA: Once again, this place refuses to let me enter the building. I don’t know what they are afraid of, I mean they are the ones who asked for and begged for more competition. You don’t knock on Hell’s door and then piss your pants when the devil answers. I am here for one thing and one thing only and that is to prove to these fucks, those who dare call themselves wrestlers, that they are shit compared to me. But once again none of them will take me up on my challenge, but come hell or high water I will appear on the show tonight and the blood of someone is going to be on my hands.
John shook his head in disdain.
JOHN CHAMPA: PAW doesn’t want me here, they want me removed from the premises, but there is no one here big enough or bad enough to remove me. Come on PAW show me what you got, show me that you are big enough to keep me from appearing on the show. Show me that you are bad enough to stop the Big Show from running rough shod over your entire fucking roster. Here I am, come stop me you second rate fucks.
John runs up to the doors and begins to bang on the doors, as security stands on the other side, prepared if he was to gain entry.
JOHN CHAMPA: What are you fucking rent-a-cops gonna do to stop me? Are you man enough to step on the other side of this door and remove me? I don’t think so. This is fair warning to you and PAW, tonight when I show my face on the show, it ain’t gonna be pretty….oh, and I won’t be alone.
John once again pounds his fist against the glass door, before disappearing through the sea of fans waiting to get into the building.
“A Warrior’s Call” by Volbeat joins a long pan of the semi-darkened Xayarena in Purity, LA revealing within the spotlights that the turnout is packing the building to capacity with some spilling out of their seats. The song plays and we sweep over the ring, the fans, the stands, the ramp, backstage where workers hurry to set up.
Cut to the mega screen over the entryway, clips and highlights from previous WICKED#7. A shot of Johnny Sykes hitting the 'Syked Out' on STIFF; Luke Knux using Trixie to run Lola off the ring apron into the steel barricade, and then nailing her with the Suicide Note; Cross Recoba holding his $50,000 bounty for Press over his head; Jack Nomad and Alexandra Kelly looking at the camera, arm in arm, while strolling through the amusement park; Calvin Harris tracing #1 into the air in front of CJ O'Donnell after his victory over the irishman; Trixie kissing CJ O'Donnell, and then nailing him with a 'Couldn't Help Myself' low blow; A shot of Johnny Raike pinning Alex Cross, and then finally a drunk Alex Cross being helped up the ramp by A-Ref and 4Loco; Then a ticking TNT bomb, which becomes an animated bomb that counts down from 10 and ignites a graphical EXPLOSION on the screen, 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, Motherfucker's? You found us! I am Philo B. Pope, and this hot number to my left is Charissa Clark, and we are live from Pure Arena inside of the Pure Amusement theme park, right here in Purity, Louisiana!
CHARISSA: Jeez! You ever notice how many versions of Pure there are in this joint? Just so no one get's confused, this is Pure Amusement Wrestling!
PHILO: It's how you ensure a brand catches on, Charissa. Besides, no place else I'd rather be.
CHARISSA: Oh, I could think of a few, but if it's wrestling action you want, then this is definitely your stop.
PHILO: Right you are, and there are big things on the horizon with this show. I know that we say that every intro, but this time, I'm serious!
CHARISSA: He's not joking, folks. We've got a huge blockbuster Main Event, where my man Stevie Harris is going to take on Press, for the PAW Heavyweight Championship on the line! This is what we around these parts are calling 'Part 2' of the saga that's unfolding between these two men.
PHILO: Yeah, but this time, I think the circumstances favor the champion. Last time they went at it, there were no rules, but this time its a standard sanctioned match. Meaning all the normal rules apply, including count outs and disqualifications. I don't know that Stevie Harris can contain himself.
CHARISSA: Whatever, Philo! Stevie shouldn't be forced to contain himself. Besides, it was that big oaf who took full on advantage of the No Disqualification stipulations at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show! It's the only reason he's the champion in the first place.
PHILO: Are you kidding me? Stevie Harris had his crazy dysfunctional family storm the ring for Christ's sake! The guy pulled every trick under the sun, and at the end of the day, it was Press who got the win.
CHARISSA: Well, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree, and it's a moot point anyways. We're going to find out tonight if that whole thing wasn't a fluke, and hopefully the 'RIGHT' man will take home the gold.
PHILO: If that wasn't 'big' enough, we've also got a semi-main that could probably headline anywhere in the world. #1 Contender, CJ O'Donnell, takes on Titan of the Midway Champion, Johnny Raike, one on one in a non-title match!
CHARISSA: Why do you think the titles not on the line, Philo?
PHILO: I'm guessing that if Raike was to put the title on the line then O'Donnell would have to put his #1 Contendership on the line. As it is, these two have some catching up to do, as it looked like they were almost ready to come to blows last show.
CHARISSA: Damn, right! Two of the sexiest men in PAW battling it out right here in front of me. God, I don't know how I'll contain myself.
PHILO: That is the million dollar question, isn't it? If we thought we could contain you, we'd probably had done it from the start.
CHARISSA: No need to be an asshole, Philo. I'm just excited about these men's.
PHILO: Speaking of assholes, Cross Recoba's back with 'The Box Office', and his guest tonight will be non-other than GZW's resident Mongrel, William Saint! It'll be interesting to see what someone of that caliber will be able to bring to the PAW table. He's an international star!
CHARISSA: Someone of that caliber? He's a toothless, one eyed, gooftard! The only thing that will be interesting about 'The Box Office' is all the different ways that Cross Recoba can reference Press in a derogatory way.
PHILO: You must be mental, Charissa. William Saint is our first star from a national brand that still exists. This is a huge feather in the cap of Lady Munin, who knows Mr. Saint quite well from her time in GZW. I hear the money she's offered him is more than anyone else in PAW. What makes that interesting is, you've gotta believe that some of the original faithfuls in the locker room are going to take exception to that. Not to mention, will we see anymore GZW defects in the future?
CHARISSA: Better question, will we see anymore GZW interruptions. John Champa's already beating down our door outside to try and get in!
PHILO: Only time will tell, but moving on, we're going to see three of our new roster members in action this evening, starting with the enigmatic Muru against D'jimon Sanders.
CHARISSA: Wasn't that a late 90's children's cartoon from Japan?
PHILO: No, that was supposed to be the opponent of Alex Cross at WICKED#1. Now he's returned to take on Muru in the opening bout.
CHARISSA: Speaking of Alex Cross, is there any word about when he'll be allowed to return to action?
PHILO: Not that I know of, and to be honest, I don't know that he should be allowed to come back after what happened last show. Dudes a menace.
CHARISSA: Normally this would be the portion of our show where I'd offer a different point of view to cause controversy, but truth be told, I agree with you. People can't be trying to wrestle three sheet's to the wind.
PHILO: It's more than just irresponsible, it's dangerous, which brings to mind another individual who's no stranger to controversy. Luke Knux is a guy known for partying into the wee hours of the morning, but still being ready to go when the bell sounds, and he's going to be facing off with 'Hardcore' Jack Nomad here tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, Nomad and Kelly addressed the crowd last show, and let me be the first to say, they remind me of a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.
PHILO: You know, I can totally see that. Well, they said they were out for violence, and I can tell you right now they are going to find some here tonight!
CHARISSA: YES! I love it, and I'll love it even more when I see Alexandra Kelly, Trixie, and Johnny Sykes go at it in their triple threat match later in the evening.
PHILO: That's right, see, we weren't lying. This is a huge card, with a huge crowd, and we are ready to kick this thing off right!
CHARISSA: Whoa, Tonto! Before we do that we better pay some bills, and get those sponsors in.
PHILO: Hey! I'm the Lone Ranger in this scenario! You're Tonto.
CHARISSA: Keep telling yourself that, sweet cheeks. We'll see you guys aft....
Charissa Clark is suddenly cut off by "Your Betrayal" from Bullet For My Valentine blaring through the speakers. As soon as the fans hear the music they instantly recognize who it signifies, and immediately their tunes go from excited to sour. After a few seconds, the curtain is slowly pulled back, and 'The Martyr of Pro Wrestling', Calvin Harris, emerges from the back. The crowd boo's even louder as he stares out at the arena with a smug expression on his face, before stretching his arms out to either side of him, encouraging the fans to pour their hate into him. After a few seconds of this, he lowers his arms back down to his sides, cocksure smirk returning, as he slowly begins his way down the rampway.
PHILO: What is this guy doing here? He's not even scheduled to wrestle tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, well maybe that's why he's here, Philo. After he beat the #1 contender for the PAW Championship, you'd expect the company to try and bank on him.
Calvin slowly meanders down the ramp, knowing that he was holding up the action, and not giving a shit. When he finally reached ringside, he took a couple of steps towards the apron, pulled himself up, and then ducked between the middle and top rope to end up in the ring. He takes the nearest turnbuckle, snapping up to the second rope, and stares out at the crowd with a nod, throwing his hands out at his side once more to bask in the glory of his detractors. As the song began to fade, Calvin dropped the pose, turns himself around, leaps down from the turnbuckle, and walks across the ring calling for a microphone.
PHILO: Oh great, now the asshole want's to speak.
CHARISSA: Now, hush, Philo! This is important.
As the microphone is handed over to the Martyr of Professional Wrestling, he grips it tightly and steps towards the center of the ring. The crowd continued booing loudly, and a smirk continued to rise across his lips, as he slowly lifted the mic.
CALVIN HARRIS: Two weeks ago, the last time I was in the ring in front of your circus freaks, I did what every single person in the back, and every single one of you deemed impossible...
There was a small pause.
CALVIN HARRIS: I won!
The boos start to get a little louder. It becomes very clear right away, that the crowd did not want to be reminded of the fact that he had managed to pick up his first major victory. Yet it was obvious by his demeanor, that it was just too damn bad for them. Calvin licks his lips, before continuing.
CALVIN HARRIS: When I was put in the ring with the number one contender, Management thought it was just one big gag. They thought it would be funny to set me up. They thought it would be hilarious to see me lose once again. After all, that's what I was known for. I was set up in situations that I didn't have a chance in, and then I'd lose just so they could get their jollies off over it. When I got put in the ring with the so called Unstable, you people didn't think that I stood a chance. You all believed his hype. You all believed the bullshit that come out of his mouth. You all bought into his shit when he claimed he's unstable and mentally deranged. Only for you, and the people running this place, to look foolish in the end. Not only did I beat CJ O'Donnell, but I destroyed him. I physically dismantled him. I left him in a state where he was unable to stand up on his own two fucking feet!
Those words come out of his mouth as he smirks a little more. It seems like Calvin is truly proud of what he has done. He was truly proud of putting the type of beating he had put on CJ just two weeks ago.
PHILO: Yes, Calvin Harris pinned CJ O'Donnell. It was a hell of a match. But that doesn't change the fact that O'Donnell is the #1 contender, and Harris is not!
CHARISSA: Yeah, well maybe he shouldn't be.
Harris starts to pace around the ring a little bit, listening to the crowd continuing to get louder with their hatred. So much in fact there is a small "Asshole" chant surging throughout the arena.
CALVIN HARRIS: Now that victory proved two things. The first thing it proved, is that CJ is full of shit, like I said to begin with. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a joke, and never should have been taken seriously. However, the second thing, and certainly the most important thing that I proved in defeating CJ, is that he is not worthy of being the number one contender. He is not worthy of getting a shot at the Pure Championship. He is not worthy of climbing into the ring with Press, with the championship on the line. Along with that, defeating CJ means I AM the NEW Number One Contender!
Sure enough, that doesn't settle well with anyone in attendance. The crowd continues to let themselves be vocal, but it continues to go in one ear and out the other.
CALVIN HARRIS: That's how this business has worked for years. The moment the number one contender has been beaten, doesn't matter if the number one contendership is on the line or not, they lose all rights. Therefore, I should be the one next in line. I should be the one getting a shot at the title. I should be the one taking on Press. That should be the match that's going for tonight's main event. I earned it. You might not want to admit it, You might not like it, It might irk you to your very bones, but it's the goddamn truth. I am the rightful number one contender, and I deserve my shot at the Pure Championship!
He lowers the microphone for a moment shaking his head.
CALVIN HARRIS: But that's not what happened. Instead this company decides to keep me off the damn show. They don't give me a match. They don't let me showcase my talents, or show off my skills. All because they are bitter over the fact I beat one of their golden children. But if that wasn't bad enough, If that wasn't disrespectful enough, they went ahead and made tonight's main event for the Pure Championship. They didn't give the shot to CJ, but they damn sure didn't give it to me either. Instead they chose to give Stevie fucking Harris another shot a the title.
From the sound of Calvin's voice he is getting a little heated, a little annoyed. He was getting a little upset. In that being said he started to look right at the hard-cam.
CALVIN HARRIS: You mean to tell me this 44 year old, living at home in his mother's basement, meth head looking, cock-eyed having, choke artist, deserves a second shot?! He deserves a second shot after dropping the ball the first time?! He deserves a second shot over the rightful number one contender getting his first?! What kind of horse shit is this PAW?!
It seems pretty obvious that Calvin wanted answers. Thing was, there was a very good chance that he wasn't going to get those answers. Especially not with him speaking out about the company that he was employed by.
PHILO: Calvin Harris is trying to get a shortcut to the PAW Championship. Who does this guy think he is? He's only won one freaking match!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but look at who it is he beat! I think he has a legitimate claim.
Calvin stands there in the middle of the ring, looking at the fans that boo him heavily. He just shakes his head at them. He wasn't going to let them get to him. After all they were the ones buying a ticket to see him, not the other way around. Once again bringing the microphone back up, he forces the attention to come back onto him.
CALVIN HARRIS: All you people are going to do is watch that old prick step in the ring, and get his ass handed to him on a silver platter. You're going to watch Press break old man river's hip, shatter his knee caps. You're going to watch Stevie come close to a heart attack, or a stroke. You're going to watch that ol' dirty bastard fall out in the middle of the ring, and lose once again. Drop the ball. Not leave with the championship. Prove that he belongs in a nursing home. Whatever the hell you want to call it. Point is, Stevie don't deserve the shot, and will prove that. While I... the rightful number one contender, got put on the back burner. I wasn't given my deserved shot. I wasn't given a chance to shine. Wasn't given a chance to prove you all wrong once again. And I'm fed up with it. I'm fed up with how I'm being treated. So you can rest assured it needs to be changed!
Those words coming from his mouth had a certain authority about them. Might not have been something that too many people were going to take seriously.
CALVIN HARRIS: Let this be your final warning. I'm done playing games. Give me what I deserve, or the last thing you're going to have to worry about is GZW making you fold... For I'll be the one that single handily drives this company straight into the fucking ground!
On that note Calvin flips the microphone out of his hand, and it could be heard hitting the mat with a loud thud. "Your Betrayal" starts to play over for a second time. Dropping down on his back, Calvin rolls out of the ring and proceeds to start making his way up the ramp, the crowd booing him all the way. He continues his determined march until reaching the curtain, and he disappears into the back.
PHILO: Well, that's just great. As if GZW wasn't enough to worry about, now we've got Calvin Harris who's apparently gone off the rails!
CHARISSA: It's about time someone put this company on notice! There are real injustices happening here, Philo, and it's nice to see such a well adjusted young man stepping up to the plate like that. I don't really agree with what he had to say about Stevie, but hey...he could be the next big thing!
PHILO: WELL ADJUSTED? Jesus, I'm surrounded by lunatics. For the love of God go to commercial so I can hit this bong.
Cut to the mega screen over the entryway, clips and highlights from previous WICKED#7. A shot of Johnny Sykes hitting the 'Syked Out' on STIFF; Luke Knux using Trixie to run Lola off the ring apron into the steel barricade, and then nailing her with the Suicide Note; Cross Recoba holding his $50,000 bounty for Press over his head; Jack Nomad and Alexandra Kelly looking at the camera, arm in arm, while strolling through the amusement park; Calvin Harris tracing #1 into the air in front of CJ O'Donnell after his victory over the irishman; Trixie kissing CJ O'Donnell, and then nailing him with a 'Couldn't Help Myself' low blow; A shot of Johnny Raike pinning Alex Cross, and then finally a drunk Alex Cross being helped up the ramp by A-Ref and 4Loco; Then a ticking TNT bomb, which becomes an animated bomb that counts down from 10 and ignites a graphical EXPLOSION on the screen, 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, Motherfucker's? You found us! I am Philo B. Pope, and this hot number to my left is Charissa Clark, and we are live from Pure Arena inside of the Pure Amusement theme park, right here in Purity, Louisiana!
CHARISSA: Jeez! You ever notice how many versions of Pure there are in this joint? Just so no one get's confused, this is Pure Amusement Wrestling!
PHILO: It's how you ensure a brand catches on, Charissa. Besides, no place else I'd rather be.
CHARISSA: Oh, I could think of a few, but if it's wrestling action you want, then this is definitely your stop.
PHILO: Right you are, and there are big things on the horizon with this show. I know that we say that every intro, but this time, I'm serious!
CHARISSA: He's not joking, folks. We've got a huge blockbuster Main Event, where my man Stevie Harris is going to take on Press, for the PAW Heavyweight Championship on the line! This is what we around these parts are calling 'Part 2' of the saga that's unfolding between these two men.
PHILO: Yeah, but this time, I think the circumstances favor the champion. Last time they went at it, there were no rules, but this time its a standard sanctioned match. Meaning all the normal rules apply, including count outs and disqualifications. I don't know that Stevie Harris can contain himself.
CHARISSA: Whatever, Philo! Stevie shouldn't be forced to contain himself. Besides, it was that big oaf who took full on advantage of the No Disqualification stipulations at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show! It's the only reason he's the champion in the first place.
PHILO: Are you kidding me? Stevie Harris had his crazy dysfunctional family storm the ring for Christ's sake! The guy pulled every trick under the sun, and at the end of the day, it was Press who got the win.
CHARISSA: Well, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree, and it's a moot point anyways. We're going to find out tonight if that whole thing wasn't a fluke, and hopefully the 'RIGHT' man will take home the gold.
PHILO: If that wasn't 'big' enough, we've also got a semi-main that could probably headline anywhere in the world. #1 Contender, CJ O'Donnell, takes on Titan of the Midway Champion, Johnny Raike, one on one in a non-title match!
CHARISSA: Why do you think the titles not on the line, Philo?
PHILO: I'm guessing that if Raike was to put the title on the line then O'Donnell would have to put his #1 Contendership on the line. As it is, these two have some catching up to do, as it looked like they were almost ready to come to blows last show.
CHARISSA: Damn, right! Two of the sexiest men in PAW battling it out right here in front of me. God, I don't know how I'll contain myself.
PHILO: That is the million dollar question, isn't it? If we thought we could contain you, we'd probably had done it from the start.
CHARISSA: No need to be an asshole, Philo. I'm just excited about these men's.
PHILO: Speaking of assholes, Cross Recoba's back with 'The Box Office', and his guest tonight will be non-other than GZW's resident Mongrel, William Saint! It'll be interesting to see what someone of that caliber will be able to bring to the PAW table. He's an international star!
CHARISSA: Someone of that caliber? He's a toothless, one eyed, gooftard! The only thing that will be interesting about 'The Box Office' is all the different ways that Cross Recoba can reference Press in a derogatory way.
PHILO: You must be mental, Charissa. William Saint is our first star from a national brand that still exists. This is a huge feather in the cap of Lady Munin, who knows Mr. Saint quite well from her time in GZW. I hear the money she's offered him is more than anyone else in PAW. What makes that interesting is, you've gotta believe that some of the original faithfuls in the locker room are going to take exception to that. Not to mention, will we see anymore GZW defects in the future?
CHARISSA: Better question, will we see anymore GZW interruptions. John Champa's already beating down our door outside to try and get in!
PHILO: Only time will tell, but moving on, we're going to see three of our new roster members in action this evening, starting with the enigmatic Muru against D'jimon Sanders.
CHARISSA: Wasn't that a late 90's children's cartoon from Japan?
PHILO: No, that was supposed to be the opponent of Alex Cross at WICKED#1. Now he's returned to take on Muru in the opening bout.
CHARISSA: Speaking of Alex Cross, is there any word about when he'll be allowed to return to action?
PHILO: Not that I know of, and to be honest, I don't know that he should be allowed to come back after what happened last show. Dudes a menace.
CHARISSA: Normally this would be the portion of our show where I'd offer a different point of view to cause controversy, but truth be told, I agree with you. People can't be trying to wrestle three sheet's to the wind.
PHILO: It's more than just irresponsible, it's dangerous, which brings to mind another individual who's no stranger to controversy. Luke Knux is a guy known for partying into the wee hours of the morning, but still being ready to go when the bell sounds, and he's going to be facing off with 'Hardcore' Jack Nomad here tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, Nomad and Kelly addressed the crowd last show, and let me be the first to say, they remind me of a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.
PHILO: You know, I can totally see that. Well, they said they were out for violence, and I can tell you right now they are going to find some here tonight!
CHARISSA: YES! I love it, and I'll love it even more when I see Alexandra Kelly, Trixie, and Johnny Sykes go at it in their triple threat match later in the evening.
PHILO: That's right, see, we weren't lying. This is a huge card, with a huge crowd, and we are ready to kick this thing off right!
CHARISSA: Whoa, Tonto! Before we do that we better pay some bills, and get those sponsors in.
PHILO: Hey! I'm the Lone Ranger in this scenario! You're Tonto.
CHARISSA: Keep telling yourself that, sweet cheeks. We'll see you guys aft....
Charissa Clark is suddenly cut off by "Your Betrayal" from Bullet For My Valentine blaring through the speakers. As soon as the fans hear the music they instantly recognize who it signifies, and immediately their tunes go from excited to sour. After a few seconds, the curtain is slowly pulled back, and 'The Martyr of Pro Wrestling', Calvin Harris, emerges from the back. The crowd boo's even louder as he stares out at the arena with a smug expression on his face, before stretching his arms out to either side of him, encouraging the fans to pour their hate into him. After a few seconds of this, he lowers his arms back down to his sides, cocksure smirk returning, as he slowly begins his way down the rampway.
PHILO: What is this guy doing here? He's not even scheduled to wrestle tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, well maybe that's why he's here, Philo. After he beat the #1 contender for the PAW Championship, you'd expect the company to try and bank on him.
Calvin slowly meanders down the ramp, knowing that he was holding up the action, and not giving a shit. When he finally reached ringside, he took a couple of steps towards the apron, pulled himself up, and then ducked between the middle and top rope to end up in the ring. He takes the nearest turnbuckle, snapping up to the second rope, and stares out at the crowd with a nod, throwing his hands out at his side once more to bask in the glory of his detractors. As the song began to fade, Calvin dropped the pose, turns himself around, leaps down from the turnbuckle, and walks across the ring calling for a microphone.
PHILO: Oh great, now the asshole want's to speak.
CHARISSA: Now, hush, Philo! This is important.
As the microphone is handed over to the Martyr of Professional Wrestling, he grips it tightly and steps towards the center of the ring. The crowd continued booing loudly, and a smirk continued to rise across his lips, as he slowly lifted the mic.
CALVIN HARRIS: Two weeks ago, the last time I was in the ring in front of your circus freaks, I did what every single person in the back, and every single one of you deemed impossible...
There was a small pause.
CALVIN HARRIS: I won!
The boos start to get a little louder. It becomes very clear right away, that the crowd did not want to be reminded of the fact that he had managed to pick up his first major victory. Yet it was obvious by his demeanor, that it was just too damn bad for them. Calvin licks his lips, before continuing.
CALVIN HARRIS: When I was put in the ring with the number one contender, Management thought it was just one big gag. They thought it would be funny to set me up. They thought it would be hilarious to see me lose once again. After all, that's what I was known for. I was set up in situations that I didn't have a chance in, and then I'd lose just so they could get their jollies off over it. When I got put in the ring with the so called Unstable, you people didn't think that I stood a chance. You all believed his hype. You all believed the bullshit that come out of his mouth. You all bought into his shit when he claimed he's unstable and mentally deranged. Only for you, and the people running this place, to look foolish in the end. Not only did I beat CJ O'Donnell, but I destroyed him. I physically dismantled him. I left him in a state where he was unable to stand up on his own two fucking feet!
Those words come out of his mouth as he smirks a little more. It seems like Calvin is truly proud of what he has done. He was truly proud of putting the type of beating he had put on CJ just two weeks ago.
PHILO: Yes, Calvin Harris pinned CJ O'Donnell. It was a hell of a match. But that doesn't change the fact that O'Donnell is the #1 contender, and Harris is not!
CHARISSA: Yeah, well maybe he shouldn't be.
Harris starts to pace around the ring a little bit, listening to the crowd continuing to get louder with their hatred. So much in fact there is a small "Asshole" chant surging throughout the arena.
CALVIN HARRIS: Now that victory proved two things. The first thing it proved, is that CJ is full of shit, like I said to begin with. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a joke, and never should have been taken seriously. However, the second thing, and certainly the most important thing that I proved in defeating CJ, is that he is not worthy of being the number one contender. He is not worthy of getting a shot at the Pure Championship. He is not worthy of climbing into the ring with Press, with the championship on the line. Along with that, defeating CJ means I AM the NEW Number One Contender!
Sure enough, that doesn't settle well with anyone in attendance. The crowd continues to let themselves be vocal, but it continues to go in one ear and out the other.
CALVIN HARRIS: That's how this business has worked for years. The moment the number one contender has been beaten, doesn't matter if the number one contendership is on the line or not, they lose all rights. Therefore, I should be the one next in line. I should be the one getting a shot at the title. I should be the one taking on Press. That should be the match that's going for tonight's main event. I earned it. You might not want to admit it, You might not like it, It might irk you to your very bones, but it's the goddamn truth. I am the rightful number one contender, and I deserve my shot at the Pure Championship!
He lowers the microphone for a moment shaking his head.
CALVIN HARRIS: But that's not what happened. Instead this company decides to keep me off the damn show. They don't give me a match. They don't let me showcase my talents, or show off my skills. All because they are bitter over the fact I beat one of their golden children. But if that wasn't bad enough, If that wasn't disrespectful enough, they went ahead and made tonight's main event for the Pure Championship. They didn't give the shot to CJ, but they damn sure didn't give it to me either. Instead they chose to give Stevie fucking Harris another shot a the title.
From the sound of Calvin's voice he is getting a little heated, a little annoyed. He was getting a little upset. In that being said he started to look right at the hard-cam.
CALVIN HARRIS: You mean to tell me this 44 year old, living at home in his mother's basement, meth head looking, cock-eyed having, choke artist, deserves a second shot?! He deserves a second shot after dropping the ball the first time?! He deserves a second shot over the rightful number one contender getting his first?! What kind of horse shit is this PAW?!
It seems pretty obvious that Calvin wanted answers. Thing was, there was a very good chance that he wasn't going to get those answers. Especially not with him speaking out about the company that he was employed by.
PHILO: Calvin Harris is trying to get a shortcut to the PAW Championship. Who does this guy think he is? He's only won one freaking match!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but look at who it is he beat! I think he has a legitimate claim.
Calvin stands there in the middle of the ring, looking at the fans that boo him heavily. He just shakes his head at them. He wasn't going to let them get to him. After all they were the ones buying a ticket to see him, not the other way around. Once again bringing the microphone back up, he forces the attention to come back onto him.
CALVIN HARRIS: All you people are going to do is watch that old prick step in the ring, and get his ass handed to him on a silver platter. You're going to watch Press break old man river's hip, shatter his knee caps. You're going to watch Stevie come close to a heart attack, or a stroke. You're going to watch that ol' dirty bastard fall out in the middle of the ring, and lose once again. Drop the ball. Not leave with the championship. Prove that he belongs in a nursing home. Whatever the hell you want to call it. Point is, Stevie don't deserve the shot, and will prove that. While I... the rightful number one contender, got put on the back burner. I wasn't given my deserved shot. I wasn't given a chance to shine. Wasn't given a chance to prove you all wrong once again. And I'm fed up with it. I'm fed up with how I'm being treated. So you can rest assured it needs to be changed!
Those words coming from his mouth had a certain authority about them. Might not have been something that too many people were going to take seriously.
CALVIN HARRIS: Let this be your final warning. I'm done playing games. Give me what I deserve, or the last thing you're going to have to worry about is GZW making you fold... For I'll be the one that single handily drives this company straight into the fucking ground!
On that note Calvin flips the microphone out of his hand, and it could be heard hitting the mat with a loud thud. "Your Betrayal" starts to play over for a second time. Dropping down on his back, Calvin rolls out of the ring and proceeds to start making his way up the ramp, the crowd booing him all the way. He continues his determined march until reaching the curtain, and he disappears into the back.
PHILO: Well, that's just great. As if GZW wasn't enough to worry about, now we've got Calvin Harris who's apparently gone off the rails!
CHARISSA: It's about time someone put this company on notice! There are real injustices happening here, Philo, and it's nice to see such a well adjusted young man stepping up to the plate like that. I don't really agree with what he had to say about Stevie, but hey...he could be the next big thing!
PHILO: WELL ADJUSTED? Jesus, I'm surrounded by lunatics. For the love of God go to commercial so I can hit this bong.
A light knock on the dressing room door cut through the silence. Alexandra was lacing up her boots and some stretching. The knock got her attention.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Come in.
Munin entered the room with a bright smile on her face, and one arm wrapped around a vase full of bright red roses.
LADY MUNIN: Hello my bloody Pixie, I wanted to give these to you before your match.
Pixie smiled at her, while putting on her wristbands.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Oh.. Why would you do that, sweets?
Munin gave a small scoff at the question, and gave her friend a look that clearly said it was a silly question.
LADY MUNIN: I may be the impartial Lady of Pure Amusement, but you are my fire fly from hell. I will always wish you luck, and give you gifts just because.
Alexandra looked back at her, obviously not used to gifts. But with a smile she took em.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Thanks. And between thank you for the awesome seats for Hawk and Danielle.
A smile was Munin's instant response to the thanks, before she turned her attention back to arranging the roses on Alex's vanity.
LADY MUNIN: It's a pleasure of course, and I've made sure they will get any refreshments they want.
She paused with a chuckle.
LADY MUNIN: Though I did have their waiter advise them to leave room for Samedi's cooking.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: You are my girl. Come here.
She left the flowers to step back besideher friend. Alex wrapped her arms tightly around her. Holding her close a moment.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: I appreciate all of this.
Using one finger she lightly bobbed Alex on the nose.
LADY MUNIN: You deserve it.
She laughed at the look of surprise on Alexandra's face, before hugging her.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Did you just do that?
Alexandra laughed hard, while still hugging her friend.
LADY MUNIN: Of course I did...Hey be careful out there, and give them hell.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: You remember why you hired me right? Just make sure medical staff is ready.
LADY MUNIN: I know and they are...
She pulled back with a smile.
LADY MUNIN: I gotta go...have fun.
Alexandra smiled as the Asian beauty made her way to the door once more.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: I'll have so much fun it will hurt...hurt them of course.
Munin's musical laughter trailed behind her as she left the room, and it seemed to linger in the silence even after she was gone.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Come in.
Munin entered the room with a bright smile on her face, and one arm wrapped around a vase full of bright red roses.
LADY MUNIN: Hello my bloody Pixie, I wanted to give these to you before your match.
Pixie smiled at her, while putting on her wristbands.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Oh.. Why would you do that, sweets?
Munin gave a small scoff at the question, and gave her friend a look that clearly said it was a silly question.
LADY MUNIN: I may be the impartial Lady of Pure Amusement, but you are my fire fly from hell. I will always wish you luck, and give you gifts just because.
Alexandra looked back at her, obviously not used to gifts. But with a smile she took em.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Thanks. And between thank you for the awesome seats for Hawk and Danielle.
A smile was Munin's instant response to the thanks, before she turned her attention back to arranging the roses on Alex's vanity.
LADY MUNIN: It's a pleasure of course, and I've made sure they will get any refreshments they want.
She paused with a chuckle.
LADY MUNIN: Though I did have their waiter advise them to leave room for Samedi's cooking.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: You are my girl. Come here.
She left the flowers to step back besideher friend. Alex wrapped her arms tightly around her. Holding her close a moment.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: I appreciate all of this.
Using one finger she lightly bobbed Alex on the nose.
LADY MUNIN: You deserve it.
She laughed at the look of surprise on Alexandra's face, before hugging her.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: Did you just do that?
Alexandra laughed hard, while still hugging her friend.
LADY MUNIN: Of course I did...Hey be careful out there, and give them hell.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: You remember why you hired me right? Just make sure medical staff is ready.
LADY MUNIN: I know and they are...
She pulled back with a smile.
LADY MUNIN: I gotta go...have fun.
Alexandra smiled as the Asian beauty made her way to the door once more.
ALEXANDRA KELLY: I'll have so much fun it will hurt...hurt them of course.
Munin's musical laughter trailed behind her as she left the room, and it seemed to linger in the silence even after she was gone.
Opening Bout
Singles Match
Djimon Sanders versus Muru
PHILO: Looks like Lady Munin is rolling out the welcome mat for Pixie.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and giving her a free reign of violence over the place as well. Meh. She never gave me any damned flowers!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and giving her a free reign of violence over the place as well. Meh. She never gave me any damned flowers!
PHILO: Nevermind all that. It's time to kick off some action. We're looking forward to the debut of one of our new signee's.
CHARISSA: That's right, but Philo.....what is a Muru?
PHILO: Well, that question is about to be answered, cause Rhonda's in the ring, and she looks ready to start this action!
CHARISSA: That's right, but Philo.....what is a Muru?
PHILO: Well, that question is about to be answered, cause Rhonda's in the ring, and she looks ready to start this action!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first from Allen Park, Michigan...Muru!!!
Up on the tron a picture of the earth is seen. The earth then explodes as pyro and explosions fill the arena. The entrance ramp is filled with smoke as "Playground" by Plankeye begins to play. Muru then walks out through the fog and makes his way down the ramp. Along the way to the ring he slaps the hands of a few fans and the he slides into the ring. He then raises his hands to the air as the crowd cheers.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And his opponent from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania...Djimon Sanders!!!
All eyes are on the entrance ramps but Sanders is nowhere to be seen. After a few moments a man with died blond hair, a dark beard, and chest hair to match makes his way out. Some would describe him as purely sexy. He is carrying some papers in his hand.
PHILO: We are supposed to see Muru take on Djimon Sanders. Who is this guy?
CHARISSA: If history is anything to go off of you never know who will who show up at a PAW show.
The man walks over to the broadcast area and hands both announcers one of the papers he is carrying. He then slides into the ring and hands one to Rhonda Armstrong. She looks confused as he is explaining things to her.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: It looks like we have a change to the program. Introducing his opponent, from right here in Purity, Louisiana...being accompanied by Anaconda Pebbles... “Rock Hard” Richard Stone!!!
PHILO: Accompanied by? He is alone.
CHARISSA: The paper he handed me says Anaconda Pebbles is a south trouser snake. It also says he and Stone are practically attached at the hip.
PHILO: What the fuck?
Inside of the ring A Ref signals for the bell to get this one started.
CHARISSA: Muru looks confused.
PHILO: He can join the party.
The two men lock up and Stone takes control with a side headlock. He smiles to the crowd and he wrenches the neck of Muru. A few well placed elbows break the hold and whips Stone into the ropes catching him with a dropkick on his way back.
PHILO: Nice elevation on that dropkick by Muru. He tagged Stone right on the chin.
CHARISSA: It looks like Stone has backed into the corner and I think he might be talking to his...crotch?
Muru sees Stone set up in the corner and charges in. Stone rolls out of the way. He wags his figure to the crowd letting them know he is too smart for that. When he turns around he is greeted by another dropkick.
PHILO: Stone thought he outsmarted Muru.
CHARISSA: I've still never heard of this guy.
The two men lock up again and the stronger Stone slams Muru to the mat. He then drops an elbow on the chest of the fallen opponent. After a second elbow drop he goes for the pin.
1...
2...
PHILO: Muru kicks out at two. Stone looks shocked.
CHARISSA: It looks like the Rock Hard one is looking solid in the ring. That's what these notes say anyway.
Stone drives a couple of right forearms into the face of Muru before whipping him into the ropes. The athletic Moo is able to quickly springboard off the middle rope and connect with a moonsault.
1...
2...
PHILO: Richard Stone is just able to kick out at two. I'm sure he wasn't expecting that.
CHARISSA: Now I know this time he IS talking to his crotch.
PHILO: Ummm.....
As both men are getting to their feet Stone drives a shoulder in the stomach of Muru. He then follows that up with a snap suplex. With Muru on the mat he climbs to the middle rope and hits a splash.
1...
2...
PHILO: Stone almost put Muru away there.
CHARISSA: He calls that the Boner Killer, because it keeps his opponent down.
PHILO: But Muru kicked out!
CHARISSA: Tell that to this paper!
Stone can't believe he wasn't able to put Muru away and is showing his frustration. He drives a right hand into the side of Muru's head and then picks him up for an inverted atomic drop. A quick kick to the gut has Muru on his knees.
PHILO: Richard Stone now with a huge smile on his face. He is starting to gyrate his hips.
CHARISSA: I know I saw something about this...
PHILO: All Muru can do is watch.
CHARISSA: It's called the Snake Bite. I wouldn't want to be Muru right now!
Stone thrust his pelvis at the face of Muru hoping to connect. The agility of Muru allows him to bend back and avoid the move. He then quickly hits Stone with a kneeling jawbreaker.
PHILO: Muru is now in control. Thank God!
CHARISSA: Something about another man trying to force his penis into your face can light a fire under you.
PHILO: Are you speaking from experience?
CHARISSA: No comment.
Richard Stone turns around and he walks right into Muru's version of a swinging neck breaker.
PHILO: Around the World!
CHARISSA: Muru is climbing to the top rope. I think I know what is next.
Muru leaps from the top connecting with a frog splash.
PHILO: MURU SPLASH! He stays down for the cover.
1...
2...
3!!!!
A Ref signals for the bell.
PHILO: Muru with a win over “Rock Hard” Richard Stone in his debut. I have to say I was pretty impressed.
CHARISSA: I agree...Stone has a future here for sure. Oh, and Muru wasn't half bad himself.
Muru continues to celebrate his win as Stone exits the ring and makes his way backstage. Muru asks for a microphone and one is handed to him. He waits for the music to die down so he can address the crowd.
MURU: I just wanted to thank the fans of Pure Amusement Wrestling for the warm ovation. When I decided to make a comeback to wrestling there were a lot of companies out there to choose from. A couple of months ago I thought I found a new place to call home...I was wrong. It didn't work out, but hey it was a blessing in disguise because it lead to me signing a contract here.
This gets a round of cheers from the fans in attendance.
MURU: Like I said there were a lot of places to choose from. The offers were pretty decent for a guy my age. Here's the thing. It isn't about the money for me. It never has been. Sure, I've made enough to be comfortable but that's what happens when you are “The Greatest Show on Earth”.
PHILO: If the guy wants to compare himself to a circus he might not be that far off when it comes to PAW.
CHARISSA: The fans are really buying into him. What a bunch of idiots!
MURU: All I wanted to do was be a part of something special. That's why I chose to sign with PAW. I know this place has dealt with some hardships. I know this place could have a war on its hands soon. But here is what I know most of all. No matter what happens. I'm going to give my all to making sure each and everyone of you enjoy yourself when I'm in the ring.
This gets another round of cheers from the fans.
MURU: I chose this place because I believe in Pure Amusement Wrestling. All I'm asking is that you take a chance and believe in me.
“Playground” by Plankeye begins to play throughout the arena as Muru exits the ring to the support of the fans. As he makes his way up the ramp he greets the spectators and slaps some hands.
PHILO: Muru could have just come here for a paycheck. Instead he just let everyone know he is here to make PAW an even better place.
CHARISSA: That's what he's saying. Lets see if he backs it up. For now, though, it appears we've got a camera in the VIP box.
The PAW camera picks up with a shot of Johnny Raike in the backstage area of the Pure Arena. The Titan of the Midway seems almost distracted, barely noticing a member of the production staff until he's almost swung his gear bag into the poor man. With a quick sorry Raike continues on his way, stopping in front of the Bombtrax locker room. Johnny pulls a compact out of his pocket and double checks his hair before knocking.
JOHNNY RAIKE: Hey, Press, you in? It's Johnny. Raike, not Sykes. I was hoping we could talk.
When the door opens, Press is standing there in a PAW T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. He raises his eyebrow at Johnny Raike, not expecting an audience from the Most Liberated Man In Wrestling. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he shrugs his shoulders and throws the door open, returning to his gym bag where it's obvious he's been laying out his ring gear for tonight's Main Event. The PAW Heavyweight championship rests comfortably on the end of the bench. He looks over his shoulder, and speaks in an even tone.
PRESS: What can I do for you Johnny?
Johnny enters, eyes quickly scanning for Flaming Youth. It's not a lack of trust on the Thigh High Thrillers part exactly, more a reflex. Not seeing him Johnny gives his full attention to the Pure Amusement Champion.
JOHNNY RAIKE: It's about our...let's call him mutual foe, Stevie. I'll level with you, for all the crap we've been through in eight shows, what with the invaders and the monkey and the Xaya-checkout, Stevie is the only one I actually worry could take this place down. What I saw in that title match scared me. Legit scared me. And I want to help those people.
Press nodded, throwing his black fingerless gloves down beside the championship belt. He turned to face Johnny, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
PRESS: To be honest, I'd like to help them too. Problem is, they don't want to be helped. They are fanatics, and fanatics almost always can't be reached. Stevie is a potential problem for the company. What he did to you, getting the DVD banned, that was crazy. What he did to me at the Super Show, equally insane. But on the other hand, for every way that Stevie causes us a slight financial set back, he also garners a lot of attention. Like it or not, how many people do you figure are out there right now just to see what the 'Madman' is going to do next?
A flash of irritation passes Johnny's face, before he holds himself back.
JOHNNY RAIKE: And how many people couldn't get a ticket because of Stevie's fanatics? How many of us are going to have to fight off armies? Press, I'm all for ticket sales, hell I probably talk about it as much as our financial department. But I can't stand by and do nothing. There has to be something that would shake at least a few of the apples off the crazy tree, right? What if we...I dunno, send a Wicked 6 DVD to the FBI, see if any of those people are missing persons, or kidnap victims, or felons.
Johnny runs a hand through his hair, obviously feeling a bit tense.
JOHNNY RAIKE: I'm not sure how to solve an issue like this. I can't fight or fuck my way through this and those are my main talents.
Press chuckled at the quip, nodding in understanding.
PRESS: I understand your frustrations. He and I put the beating of a lifetime on one another, but even after I sent that chair back in his face it didn't shut him up. He's like a pariah, once he latches onto something, he doesn't let it go. The DVD idea is pretty good, but if you really want to stick it to Stevie, you have to take something away from him that he really cares about, and the only thing I see that he cares for more than my championship, is Lola. Unlike the others, she doesn't seem to be just some pawn he can pull the strings on. She's loyal of her own accord. Break that loyalty, and Stevie will finally have to look himself in the mirror, and ask if he's the real deal or not.
Johnny tenses as Press talks about breaking Lola. Did the Champ know what he and Lydia were trying? Did he need to be more careful?
JOHNNY RAIKE: Yeah. Yeah I've thought about what losing Lola might do to him. Might even have an idea, but it's going to be slow. Harris is smart, annoyingly so, if the dominoes aren't set just so...
The Sissyboy Savior shrugs.
JOHNNY RAIKE: I was pretty sure there were no easy answers, but hope springs eternal, yeah? I'm just hoping this one doesn't have to end in mass suicide or slaughter at the hands of federal agents. The world doesn't need another Ruby Ridge and I'm not talking about my drag act.
Raike shakes out his head and signs 'whatever'
JOHNNY RAIKE: I'll keep thinking, but we both have matches to get ready for. Kick his ass and watch for rotten fruit, eh?
Press smirked at the comment.
PRESS: I figured everyone would have heard about that by now. I tell you what, you go out and kick CJ O'Donnell's teeth down his throat, and I'll try and rip Stevie Harris a new asshole, and you and I can discuss shaping up our own title picture. Deal?
Johnny gives a close lipped, but genuine smile to the PAW champion. He extends his hand for a shake.
JOHNNY RAIKE: Deal.
Press returns the smile, along with the gesture, taking Johnny's hand and giving it a firm shake before nodding, and turning back to his ring gear.
CJ O'Donnell stood pressed against the corner of the cement wall, a container tucked under his arm so as to hid the label. He peeks around the corner ever so often, as if he were waiting on something, and the camera moves to see what it is he was so interested in. The only thing around the corner was an empty hallway, and a dressing room door with the nameplate 'Trixie' written on it in pink. Just then, the door opens, and out steps the Blonde Bombshell, still in her street clothes despite her upcoming match. She holds her phone out in front of her as she quickly turns in the opposite direction from the camera, and disappears down the hall.
CJ grins mischievously, before slipping around the side, still hugging the wall as he high steps it to the dressing room door. He checkd the handle to find that it is unlocked, and swiftly enters the dressing room followed by the camera. CJ makes a b-line for Trixie's travel bag, her ring gear already laid out on the bench so she could quickly get ready. CJ rummages around for a minute, before finally finding what it is he was looking for. When his hand comes out of the bag, it reveals a very provocative pair of panties. CJ lays the panties out so that the inside seam of the crotch is exposed, and then he takes the canister out, unscrews the top, and gently tilts it up to pour the contents out. A white powdery substance filters out onto the panties, and he shakes them a bit to make it less obvious that they have been tampered with. He then puts the top back on, and throws the panties on the ring gear so that he could be sure they would be the ones worn this evening. He turned to the camera with a grin, and held up his container for the viewers in the audience to see. The label read 'Itching Powder', and the a loud outburst could be heard coming from the arena even through the cement walls. CJ snickered, and tucked the canister back under his arm, before making a hasty exit. The scene cuts back to ringside.
Up on the tron a picture of the earth is seen. The earth then explodes as pyro and explosions fill the arena. The entrance ramp is filled with smoke as "Playground" by Plankeye begins to play. Muru then walks out through the fog and makes his way down the ramp. Along the way to the ring he slaps the hands of a few fans and the he slides into the ring. He then raises his hands to the air as the crowd cheers.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And his opponent from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania...Djimon Sanders!!!
All eyes are on the entrance ramps but Sanders is nowhere to be seen. After a few moments a man with died blond hair, a dark beard, and chest hair to match makes his way out. Some would describe him as purely sexy. He is carrying some papers in his hand.
PHILO: We are supposed to see Muru take on Djimon Sanders. Who is this guy?
CHARISSA: If history is anything to go off of you never know who will who show up at a PAW show.
The man walks over to the broadcast area and hands both announcers one of the papers he is carrying. He then slides into the ring and hands one to Rhonda Armstrong. She looks confused as he is explaining things to her.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: It looks like we have a change to the program. Introducing his opponent, from right here in Purity, Louisiana...being accompanied by Anaconda Pebbles... “Rock Hard” Richard Stone!!!
PHILO: Accompanied by? He is alone.
CHARISSA: The paper he handed me says Anaconda Pebbles is a south trouser snake. It also says he and Stone are practically attached at the hip.
PHILO: What the fuck?
Inside of the ring A Ref signals for the bell to get this one started.
CHARISSA: Muru looks confused.
PHILO: He can join the party.
The two men lock up and Stone takes control with a side headlock. He smiles to the crowd and he wrenches the neck of Muru. A few well placed elbows break the hold and whips Stone into the ropes catching him with a dropkick on his way back.
PHILO: Nice elevation on that dropkick by Muru. He tagged Stone right on the chin.
CHARISSA: It looks like Stone has backed into the corner and I think he might be talking to his...crotch?
Muru sees Stone set up in the corner and charges in. Stone rolls out of the way. He wags his figure to the crowd letting them know he is too smart for that. When he turns around he is greeted by another dropkick.
PHILO: Stone thought he outsmarted Muru.
CHARISSA: I've still never heard of this guy.
The two men lock up again and the stronger Stone slams Muru to the mat. He then drops an elbow on the chest of the fallen opponent. After a second elbow drop he goes for the pin.
1...
2...
PHILO: Muru kicks out at two. Stone looks shocked.
CHARISSA: It looks like the Rock Hard one is looking solid in the ring. That's what these notes say anyway.
Stone drives a couple of right forearms into the face of Muru before whipping him into the ropes. The athletic Moo is able to quickly springboard off the middle rope and connect with a moonsault.
1...
2...
PHILO: Richard Stone is just able to kick out at two. I'm sure he wasn't expecting that.
CHARISSA: Now I know this time he IS talking to his crotch.
PHILO: Ummm.....
As both men are getting to their feet Stone drives a shoulder in the stomach of Muru. He then follows that up with a snap suplex. With Muru on the mat he climbs to the middle rope and hits a splash.
1...
2...
PHILO: Stone almost put Muru away there.
CHARISSA: He calls that the Boner Killer, because it keeps his opponent down.
PHILO: But Muru kicked out!
CHARISSA: Tell that to this paper!
Stone can't believe he wasn't able to put Muru away and is showing his frustration. He drives a right hand into the side of Muru's head and then picks him up for an inverted atomic drop. A quick kick to the gut has Muru on his knees.
PHILO: Richard Stone now with a huge smile on his face. He is starting to gyrate his hips.
CHARISSA: I know I saw something about this...
PHILO: All Muru can do is watch.
CHARISSA: It's called the Snake Bite. I wouldn't want to be Muru right now!
Stone thrust his pelvis at the face of Muru hoping to connect. The agility of Muru allows him to bend back and avoid the move. He then quickly hits Stone with a kneeling jawbreaker.
PHILO: Muru is now in control. Thank God!
CHARISSA: Something about another man trying to force his penis into your face can light a fire under you.
PHILO: Are you speaking from experience?
CHARISSA: No comment.
Richard Stone turns around and he walks right into Muru's version of a swinging neck breaker.
PHILO: Around the World!
CHARISSA: Muru is climbing to the top rope. I think I know what is next.
Muru leaps from the top connecting with a frog splash.
PHILO: MURU SPLASH! He stays down for the cover.
1...
2...
3!!!!
A Ref signals for the bell.
PHILO: Muru with a win over “Rock Hard” Richard Stone in his debut. I have to say I was pretty impressed.
CHARISSA: I agree...Stone has a future here for sure. Oh, and Muru wasn't half bad himself.
Muru continues to celebrate his win as Stone exits the ring and makes his way backstage. Muru asks for a microphone and one is handed to him. He waits for the music to die down so he can address the crowd.
MURU: I just wanted to thank the fans of Pure Amusement Wrestling for the warm ovation. When I decided to make a comeback to wrestling there were a lot of companies out there to choose from. A couple of months ago I thought I found a new place to call home...I was wrong. It didn't work out, but hey it was a blessing in disguise because it lead to me signing a contract here.
This gets a round of cheers from the fans in attendance.
MURU: Like I said there were a lot of places to choose from. The offers were pretty decent for a guy my age. Here's the thing. It isn't about the money for me. It never has been. Sure, I've made enough to be comfortable but that's what happens when you are “The Greatest Show on Earth”.
PHILO: If the guy wants to compare himself to a circus he might not be that far off when it comes to PAW.
CHARISSA: The fans are really buying into him. What a bunch of idiots!
MURU: All I wanted to do was be a part of something special. That's why I chose to sign with PAW. I know this place has dealt with some hardships. I know this place could have a war on its hands soon. But here is what I know most of all. No matter what happens. I'm going to give my all to making sure each and everyone of you enjoy yourself when I'm in the ring.
This gets another round of cheers from the fans.
MURU: I chose this place because I believe in Pure Amusement Wrestling. All I'm asking is that you take a chance and believe in me.
“Playground” by Plankeye begins to play throughout the arena as Muru exits the ring to the support of the fans. As he makes his way up the ramp he greets the spectators and slaps some hands.
PHILO: Muru could have just come here for a paycheck. Instead he just let everyone know he is here to make PAW an even better place.
CHARISSA: That's what he's saying. Lets see if he backs it up. For now, though, it appears we've got a camera in the VIP box.
JI: Hello sir, Lady Munin sends her apologies that she can not greet you herself. Her hands are a bit full with the show, but she will still be joining you and the lovely Kat after wards.
The words were spoken cheerfully from from Drew's right. The young man who greeted him seemed pleasant enough. Though his look of professionalism was ruined by the puckish look of mischief in his exotic dark eyes.
JI: In the meantime Munin hopes you both enjoy the show, and sends this for you both with her regards.
The young man set down a small ice pail filled with ice cold "Not You're Father's Root beer", and a menu next to it. Smiling as to show appreciation for their hospitality, Stevenson looks at the beverages as well as the menu and then back to the young man.
DREW STEVENSON: Oh it's no problem at all, I do understand. Tell her that I said thank you very much and we appreciate it; her hospitality is definitely appreciated.
Smiling again, he nods his head really enjoying the show as everybody has put in a lot of work to make this one of the best products going today.
Ji: She will be happy to hear it sir. If you need anything at all please push the small button, and someone will be quick to attend you. I wouldn't eat too much though. Samedi is cooking up a storm for the after party.
The young man winked conspiratorially, but the smile faltered slightly.
JI: Enjoy the show.
DREW STEVENSON: Thank you very much yet again, Kat and myself really appreciate the hospitality and we will enjoy the show.
Giving off a genuine smile, Stevenson sits there actually enjoying the show as a fan instead of somebody who has to get their ass kicked inside the ring. Looking over at Kat, he briefly talks to her and of course, it's about food.
DREW STEVNSON: You hear that? There's going to be a lot of food and I for one can't wait.
Watching her roll her eyes while chuckling, Stevenson goes back to watching the show from the VIP box, almost as if he's a child who just enjoys the product.
The words were spoken cheerfully from from Drew's right. The young man who greeted him seemed pleasant enough. Though his look of professionalism was ruined by the puckish look of mischief in his exotic dark eyes.
JI: In the meantime Munin hopes you both enjoy the show, and sends this for you both with her regards.
The young man set down a small ice pail filled with ice cold "Not You're Father's Root beer", and a menu next to it. Smiling as to show appreciation for their hospitality, Stevenson looks at the beverages as well as the menu and then back to the young man.
DREW STEVENSON: Oh it's no problem at all, I do understand. Tell her that I said thank you very much and we appreciate it; her hospitality is definitely appreciated.
Smiling again, he nods his head really enjoying the show as everybody has put in a lot of work to make this one of the best products going today.
Ji: She will be happy to hear it sir. If you need anything at all please push the small button, and someone will be quick to attend you. I wouldn't eat too much though. Samedi is cooking up a storm for the after party.
The young man winked conspiratorially, but the smile faltered slightly.
JI: Enjoy the show.
DREW STEVENSON: Thank you very much yet again, Kat and myself really appreciate the hospitality and we will enjoy the show.
Giving off a genuine smile, Stevenson sits there actually enjoying the show as a fan instead of somebody who has to get their ass kicked inside the ring. Looking over at Kat, he briefly talks to her and of course, it's about food.
DREW STEVNSON: You hear that? There's going to be a lot of food and I for one can't wait.
Watching her roll her eyes while chuckling, Stevenson goes back to watching the show from the VIP box, almost as if he's a child who just enjoys the product.
JOHNNY RAIKE: Hey, Press, you in? It's Johnny. Raike, not Sykes. I was hoping we could talk.
When the door opens, Press is standing there in a PAW T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. He raises his eyebrow at Johnny Raike, not expecting an audience from the Most Liberated Man In Wrestling. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he shrugs his shoulders and throws the door open, returning to his gym bag where it's obvious he's been laying out his ring gear for tonight's Main Event. The PAW Heavyweight championship rests comfortably on the end of the bench. He looks over his shoulder, and speaks in an even tone.
PRESS: What can I do for you Johnny?
Johnny enters, eyes quickly scanning for Flaming Youth. It's not a lack of trust on the Thigh High Thrillers part exactly, more a reflex. Not seeing him Johnny gives his full attention to the Pure Amusement Champion.
JOHNNY RAIKE: It's about our...let's call him mutual foe, Stevie. I'll level with you, for all the crap we've been through in eight shows, what with the invaders and the monkey and the Xaya-checkout, Stevie is the only one I actually worry could take this place down. What I saw in that title match scared me. Legit scared me. And I want to help those people.
Press nodded, throwing his black fingerless gloves down beside the championship belt. He turned to face Johnny, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
PRESS: To be honest, I'd like to help them too. Problem is, they don't want to be helped. They are fanatics, and fanatics almost always can't be reached. Stevie is a potential problem for the company. What he did to you, getting the DVD banned, that was crazy. What he did to me at the Super Show, equally insane. But on the other hand, for every way that Stevie causes us a slight financial set back, he also garners a lot of attention. Like it or not, how many people do you figure are out there right now just to see what the 'Madman' is going to do next?
A flash of irritation passes Johnny's face, before he holds himself back.
JOHNNY RAIKE: And how many people couldn't get a ticket because of Stevie's fanatics? How many of us are going to have to fight off armies? Press, I'm all for ticket sales, hell I probably talk about it as much as our financial department. But I can't stand by and do nothing. There has to be something that would shake at least a few of the apples off the crazy tree, right? What if we...I dunno, send a Wicked 6 DVD to the FBI, see if any of those people are missing persons, or kidnap victims, or felons.
Johnny runs a hand through his hair, obviously feeling a bit tense.
JOHNNY RAIKE: I'm not sure how to solve an issue like this. I can't fight or fuck my way through this and those are my main talents.
Press chuckled at the quip, nodding in understanding.
PRESS: I understand your frustrations. He and I put the beating of a lifetime on one another, but even after I sent that chair back in his face it didn't shut him up. He's like a pariah, once he latches onto something, he doesn't let it go. The DVD idea is pretty good, but if you really want to stick it to Stevie, you have to take something away from him that he really cares about, and the only thing I see that he cares for more than my championship, is Lola. Unlike the others, she doesn't seem to be just some pawn he can pull the strings on. She's loyal of her own accord. Break that loyalty, and Stevie will finally have to look himself in the mirror, and ask if he's the real deal or not.
Johnny tenses as Press talks about breaking Lola. Did the Champ know what he and Lydia were trying? Did he need to be more careful?
JOHNNY RAIKE: Yeah. Yeah I've thought about what losing Lola might do to him. Might even have an idea, but it's going to be slow. Harris is smart, annoyingly so, if the dominoes aren't set just so...
The Sissyboy Savior shrugs.
JOHNNY RAIKE: I was pretty sure there were no easy answers, but hope springs eternal, yeah? I'm just hoping this one doesn't have to end in mass suicide or slaughter at the hands of federal agents. The world doesn't need another Ruby Ridge and I'm not talking about my drag act.
Raike shakes out his head and signs 'whatever'
JOHNNY RAIKE: I'll keep thinking, but we both have matches to get ready for. Kick his ass and watch for rotten fruit, eh?
Press smirked at the comment.
PRESS: I figured everyone would have heard about that by now. I tell you what, you go out and kick CJ O'Donnell's teeth down his throat, and I'll try and rip Stevie Harris a new asshole, and you and I can discuss shaping up our own title picture. Deal?
Johnny gives a close lipped, but genuine smile to the PAW champion. He extends his hand for a shake.
JOHNNY RAIKE: Deal.
Press returns the smile, along with the gesture, taking Johnny's hand and giving it a firm shake before nodding, and turning back to his ring gear.
CJ grins mischievously, before slipping around the side, still hugging the wall as he high steps it to the dressing room door. He checkd the handle to find that it is unlocked, and swiftly enters the dressing room followed by the camera. CJ makes a b-line for Trixie's travel bag, her ring gear already laid out on the bench so she could quickly get ready. CJ rummages around for a minute, before finally finding what it is he was looking for. When his hand comes out of the bag, it reveals a very provocative pair of panties. CJ lays the panties out so that the inside seam of the crotch is exposed, and then he takes the canister out, unscrews the top, and gently tilts it up to pour the contents out. A white powdery substance filters out onto the panties, and he shakes them a bit to make it less obvious that they have been tampered with. He then puts the top back on, and throws the panties on the ring gear so that he could be sure they would be the ones worn this evening. He turned to the camera with a grin, and held up his container for the viewers in the audience to see. The label read 'Itching Powder', and the a loud outburst could be heard coming from the arena even through the cement walls. CJ snickered, and tucked the canister back under his arm, before making a hasty exit. The scene cuts back to ringside.
Singles Match
Jack Nomad versus Luke Knux
PHILO: What the hell! CJ O'Donnell just poured itching powder into the crotch of Trixie's panties!
CHARISSA: Were those panties? I thought that was a handkerchief.
PHILO: Be that as it may, things might get interesting during that Triple Threat match later tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, well what about that big oaf of a champion and the fuckboi conspiring together against my Stevie?!?
PHILO: Maybe if the madman hadn't made so many enemies, he wouldn't have to worry about it.
CHARISSA: Whatever, Philo. Rhonda's in the ring, and I'd just as soon get on with the show than go over all the ways you're a self-deluded idiot.
CHARISSA: Were those panties? I thought that was a handkerchief.
PHILO: Be that as it may, things might get interesting during that Triple Threat match later tonight.
CHARISSA: Yeah, well what about that big oaf of a champion and the fuckboi conspiring together against my Stevie?!?
PHILO: Maybe if the madman hadn't made so many enemies, he wouldn't have to worry about it.
CHARISSA: Whatever, Philo. Rhonda's in the ring, and I'd just as soon get on with the show than go over all the ways you're a self-deluded idiot.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and gentlemen, the follow contest is scheduled for one fall and it a singles match! Let's bring out challenger number one.
The lights around the steel girdered Entrance Arch dim. Amber and red emergency lights start spin to cast a diffused orange glow a short distance through the fog. The familiar sound of Edsel Dope's voice screams over the PA System.
"Violence" by Dope continues to play. The fog is parted by the forward motion of a tattooed Jack Nomad suddenly bursting forth with a long legged stride.
His attire consists of a hooded, patchwork leather vest decorated with the word "HARDCORE" on his shoulders, black leather tights done in similar fashion to his vest, maroon boots with silver knee and kick pads, and tape on his fists. In his hand is a barbwire wrapped silver mop handle sporting black electrical tape at both ends.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: MAKING HIS WAY TO THE RING! HE STANDS AT SIX FOOT TWO AND WEIGHS IN AT 241 lbs. HAILING FROM JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY....
Arriving at ringside, he climbs onto the ring apron and walks to the very center of that apron. Turning to face the fans, Jack throws his arms out at his sides. His face is a burning, intense scowl as he surveys the crowd. He then turns and enters the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: HARDCORE... JACK NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAADDDDDD!!!
He throws his hood back to reveal his slightly crooked nose and dark brown eyes. Long stringy black hair hangs in his face as he lowers his head forward to glare at the camera from beneath the ridge of his brow. Jack then throws his arms out at his sides, fists clenched tightly with the mop handle held firmly in hand and spins around to scowl at the audience. He removes his vest and tosses it over to his corner where a ring attendant takes it.
PHILO: Last time we saw Hardcore Jack Nomad approach the ring it was to beat up Tapioca Joe. But he won't be sucker punching his opponent tonight.
CHARISSA: Hey, this match hasn't even started yet, don't you go saying Jack won't land a sucker punch. If I was Luke Knux, I'd be watching out for it. Course if I was Luke Knux I wouldn't be wasting my pretty face in a wrestling ring when I could be getting with fine announcers like Charissa Clark.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And the challenger...
Slash ft. Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators 'World On Fire' hits the sound system and the lights go down. Smoke begins filling the stage as we hear the opening of the song. A few riffs of a guitar, then when the drums hit and lyrics kick in, Luke Knux comes out from the back in his usual attire. A cigarette hangs from his lips as he walks out staring down the crowd. He walks from one end of the stage to the other staring down the crowd before returning to the middle and then raising the metal horns. He puts them down and begins down the ramp.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Hailing from Castle Knux on Knuxy Island, weighing in at 190 pounds, he is the Suicidal Scumbag, LUKE KNNNNNUUXXXXXXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Luke is now at the end of the ramp as he stops to look around the arena. Knux takes the last hit of the cigarette and then tosses it on the ground and stomps it out. As Luke reaches ringside he removes his leather jacket and hands it to Alexandra Kelly without ever actually looking at her. He throws out a causal 'Thanks, doll' as he climbs into the ring. The Pixie jumps up as though to follow him in, only to be stopped by A-Ref. Luke takes advantage of the to surprise Nomad with a boot square to the knee, backs into the ropes for some momentum, and nails Nomad with a knee right to the sternum. Jack grunts, but doesn't go down as the bell rings.
PHILO: Luke Knux creating some chaos there by pretending to mistake Pixie for the ring girl, and this match is underway!
CHARISSA: I'm not a hundred percent sure that was a pretend mistake. You know rockstars, they never notice the little guy.
PHILO: I somehow feel you are projecting right now.
Knux grabs Jack by the arm and hammer throws him into the far ropes, intercepts the now charging Hardcore Jack Nomad, and lift him for a booming sidewalk slam. Knux takes a moment to relish the hit a play an air guitar riff before returning to his feet one step ahead of an also rising Jack Nomad. Knux fires in a pair of right hooks to the head to keep control, once more Irish whipping Jack Nomad into the ropes and dropping into position for a back body drop. Jack sees it coming and instead delivers a sliding elbow to the jaw, popping Luke up before sending him reeling to the ropes. Jack hits the ropes of his own accord this time and sends the Rock Star to the floor with a huge clothes line. As Luke recovers against the ring barrier Alexandra Kelly smugly drapes his leather jacket over his face.
CHARISSA: Knux had that if not more coming, and look at the clever little Pixie not actually touching Luke Knux.
PHILO: It's not a technical violation, but it's intent is clear. Watch out for the Pixie.
As A-Ref makes a count Luke removes his coat from his face and flings a snarl at Alexandra. He instructs A-Ref to get Jack to back off and let him in, before climbing the ring stairs and reentering the ring. The competitors circle one another briefly, Jack trying to shoot in on Luke, who goes behind to get the standing waste lock on Jack. Jack brings his hands in and forces them under the Rock Star's guard, transitioning into a chickenwing. Luke Knux fights through the chicken wing, spins out, grabs a headlock and bulldogs Jack hard to the ground.
PHILO: Nice display by both men there, with Luke Knux keeping a step ahead in this match.
CHARISSA: He feels good about himself now, but give Jack time to get in a few more hits like that elbow. Luke Knux might be singing a power ballad tonight.
Once more getting the headlock, Luke Knux brings Jack back to his feet and into the corner. Luke throws a pair of stinging chops to the chest of Nomad before stepping back to measure. He lunges out with a huge spinning heel kick, but Nomad lets himself fall to the ground, hits a rising tackle to the ground, and begins unload lefts and rights to the head of Luke Knux. The Pixie cheers at ringside, joined by many of the nearby fans, as A-Ref admonishes Nomad to let Knux up, finally having to result to a four count before Nomad lets up.
CHARISSA: I know you don't have to be beautiful to be a rock star, but I am saying I wouldn't be this worried if Jack Nomad had been punching him in the throat.
PHILO: A reversal of fortune from Hardcore Jack Nomad, just raining down a veritable storm of blows. Knux has got to be hearing feedback right now.
Jack helps Luke to his feet and brings him in close, lifting him up for the Samoan drop. Knux slides free and finds himself eye to eye with Jack. The two PAW stars begin unloading strikes on one another, the crowd coming alive with noise as the flurry of blows continues. As the initial adrenaline surges wear off it is clear that Jack Nomad is coming out of the exchange still in control of the match, catching a lazy haymaker from Knux and uppercutting Luke square in the jaw again, sending him butt first to the mat.
CHARISSA: Not a good idea to stand toe to toe with Jack Nomad.
PHILO: I Think Luke Knux might be tempted to agree with you at the moment. Jack shrugging off those blows at the moment, but all the damage does still add up.
Nomad charges the seated Luke and jumps for his signature Muay Thai knee strike; Luke ducks the knee, kips up and hits a no look reverse neckbreaker!
PHILO: Luke Knux, finding a chance to take control again.
CHARISSA: He stopped whatever Jack had in mind, but I don't think we can call this control. Both men are on the mat.
A-Ref begins a count as Pixie urges on a slow clap from her and Jack's fans in the audience, though despite her best efforts Jack Nomad is up a second behind Luke Knux. Hardcore throws a powerful double axe handle, but Luke is quick to duck, take a half step back and rock Nomad with a spinning heel kick. Nomad grunts and wavers but remains standing. A half a step to the left and a counter clockwise spin deliver a second spinning heel kick to the opposite side of Nomads face, but still he keeps his feet. Knux hits the ropes for a head of steam as he jumps up and wraps his hands around the back of Jack's head. Before the sitout facebuster can bring Nomad to the ground, he gets both hands on Knux's chest, pushing while all his might and breaking the hold. Both men stagger for a moment before walking into one another in the middle of the ring. Both men hit the ropes, and both men try for a crossbody, colliding hard in midair and taking them both the to mat. The crowd screams it's approval for both men as a count begins.
CHARISSA: Look at that beautiful cross body from Jack Nomad, got Knux down on the mat sucking wind.
PHILO: And what of the crossbody out of Luke Knux? Did that leave Jack Nomad any less stunned?
CHARISSA: Oh, what's it matter, a crossbody isn't going to end this match.
This time it is Jack Nomad who is first on his feet, dragging Knux the rest of the way to his and whipping him to the corner. Nomad follows in with a shoulder tackle before lifting Luke Knux up to the top rope and following him up. Nomad throws a pair of shots to the kidney, lifts Knux up, and brings the Rock Star down hard with a superplex! Nomad covers while Pixie leads a count.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kick out!
Nomad looks unhappy with the results of the count, taking a moment to not quite glare at A-Ref. Knux rolls to the ropes, trying to regain himself, but Nomad is quick to pull him to the middle of the ring. Knux gets to a knee, allowing Jack to grab his hand and apply a twisting wrist lock. Jack roughly pulls Luke all the way up to standing, then begins to throw kicks to the leg, knee and hip of Luke Knux.
CHARISSA: Something Fancy! And a great bit of strategy; stop letting Knux more quicker than you can.
PHILO: Certainly a viable strategy, and right now it seems to be working, Nomad is all over Knux.
A swift kick to the elbow followed by a stomp to the knee sees Nomad break the hold and stand menacingly over his victim. In one smooth motion he lifts the Rock Star from his kneeling position, hoists him into the air and delivers a huge powerbomb! Nomad keeps the hold and bridges over for leverage.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kick out! Another near fall for Hardcore Jack Nomad. Luke Knux still finding his way to kick out.
CHARISSA: But for how much longer. Nomad has about fifty pounds on Knux, and he's fighting like it.
Nomad brings Luke to his hands and knees, locking in a half nelson to bring Knux the rest of the war to standing. As Jack lifts him for the half nelson suplex, Luke wiggles free, ducks a punch and hits the ropes. He gets no further though, Alexandra Kelly tripping him to the ground from her position at ringside. As A-Ref goes to read her the riot act, Nomad takes advantage to land a series of closed fist punches to the back of the Rock Star's head. Jack rolls him onto his back before dragging him a bit closer to the turn buckle.
CHARISSA: Looks like Hardcore's getting ready to fly. I'm betting he's looking to put Luke Knux away with one more big move.
PHILO: One more big move could do it after that series of illegal punches. Knux is in a world of pain.
CHARISSA: Only illegal if you get caught, Philo.
Jack takes a moment before the climb to catch his breath, then quickly assailing the the turnbuckle, takes a moment to measure, and leaps off with a rolling knee drop. The force of the blow raises the limp body of Luke Knux up like a rag doll. Nomad hooks a leg.
1...
2..
Th-
PHILO: He gets the shoulder up! Knux gets the shoulder up!
CHARISSA: Impossible! That must have been a slow count!
Both Nomad and Pixie seem to share this opinion, Alexandra jumping up on the apron to yell at A-Ref, and being joined by her boyfriend Jack Nomad. A-Ref continues to assert the fairness of his call and goes so far as to send Pixie back to the locker room. This news makes neither pair very happy, and they get even less so as Luke Knux uses the distraction to nail Jack Nomad with a low blow uppercut! Pixie shrieks at the official to witness the injustice in the ring, but he is dead set on getting her to head back up the ramp. Finally she relents, under penalty of forfeiture for Jack Nomad. Luke falls back into the corner, smile on his lips as he watches Jack lay on the mat, holding himself in pain.
CHARISSA: Oh, that was a blatant low blow by Luke Knux, and would you look at him? He's happy with himself!
PHILO: Pixie and Hardcore had already used the distraction against him. Turnabout is fair play.
After a breather, Luke uses the ropes to assist himself back to standing, stalking over to Jack just as he's trying to push himself to his feet. Luke cuts him off and whips him to the ropes, hitting him with a pendulum backbreaker. Luke stays on the offensive and headlocks Nomad, pulling him with some effort to his knees. Knux shifts his hold down and plants Jack's head into the mat with a kneeling DDT. For a moment Nomad pops to his knees, before crumpling slowly to his back. Knux is back up to play to the fans, who shower him with cheers for his effort. The cheers renew when Knux takes to the top turnbuckle and walks out onto the rope itself.
PHILO: Looking for the Ragnarok and Roll Moonsault.
Knux leaps off and lands chest first across Jack Nomad. He hooks the leg.
PHILO: He got it!
1...
2...
Thr-
PHILO: Kick Out! Luke Knux now with a near fall! These men have been throwing themselves at each other to win tonight, how much more do they have to do to one another before we have a winner here tonight?
CHARISSA: All I know is it's more than that to put Jack Nomad away.
Knux can't believe it as he rolls releases the hold, looking at A-Ref with a pleading look in his eyes and three fingers held up. A-Ref shakes his head no and signals two as Luke returns his focus to Jack Nomad. Throwing some kicks to keep Hardcore Jack Nomad off his balance, Luke begins to pull him back to standing. The deadweight of Nomad proves hard to get into position, and even harder still for Luke Knux to bring into the butterfly hold. As Knux tries to transition into the suplex, Nomad gets his feet free and instead back body drops Luke Knux.
CHARISSA: Hardcore Jack Nomad getting himself right back in this fight, using that size advantage to reverse Luke Knux.
PHILO: Nomad has certainly been very game in his debut Pure Amusement match. Let's see if he can finish the job.
Nomad follows up putting Luke on the ground with a springboard rolling knee drop, bouncing the rock Star's head off the mat. Luke drops down to one knee behind the prone form of Luke Knux, and waits for him to show signs of life. As Luke stirs, Jack begins firing in kicks to the side of the chest, across the ribs and kidney. He kicks Luke into a kneeling position, takes a few steps back, and hits a jumping knee strike. Knux is sent hard back to the mat, rolling to the ring apron. Jack tries to pull Luke back into the ring, but the Rock Star keeps a hold of the bottom rope, causing A-Ref to issue a count to Nomad. Jack backs off a step to let Knux back up, a step Knux uses to hit a toe kick of his own followed by a straight right hand to the side of Nomads head. Jack's head turns, but barely, and he fixes Luke with a look of pure death.
PHILO: I don't like the look I'm seeing on Nomad right now. He looks like he wants to kill Knux.
CHARISSA: Nomad likes to hurt people, he was very clear on that. Doesn't much care for Knux, made that clear to. I've been wondering when this look would show up, myself.
Jack nails a hard boot to dead center kneecap of Luke Knux, bringing him down to a knee. Nomad is quick to wrap up Lukes arms and apply a full clutch. Hold applied, Nomad begins throwing knee strikes to Luke's face, the Rock Star not being able to do anything about it. A-Ref drops down to check on Luke, who refuses to quit. A few more strikes from Nomad and A-Ref asks again. Luke shakes his head no. A few more strikes, each with more violence than the last, and A-Ref asks one more time. It proves to be the final time as Luke Knux signals his submission.
PHILO: And Knux left with no recourse but to give, and that's a vicious little move.
CHARISSA: It's the Face Breaker, Philo! If the hold don't get ya, the hits will!
A-Ref calls for the bell, and has to talk to Jack Nomad for a few seconds before he finally releases the hold. Nomad looks down on Knux, who covers his injured face in his palms as his arm is raised in victory.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: The winner of this contest by submission, HARDCOREE JACKKK NOMADDDD!!!
He looks out at the crowd who are a mixed reaction of boos and cheers, before stepping over to celebrate in the corner. Suddenly darkness fills the arena as several lightning strikes strike the entrance ramp, each strike lighting up the arena brighter and brighter. After the fourth strike silence fills the arena as the giant screen above the stage comes to life with words scrolling across it.
What Scares us is... I think we needed.. Violence...
BREAK IT DOWN LIKE YOU KNOW IT'S LOADED!!!
I GOT IT COCKED AND LOADED!!!
I GOT A SICKNESS TO FEED!!
"Violence" by Dope continues to play. The fog is parted by the forward motion of a tattooed Jack Nomad suddenly bursting forth with a long legged stride.
SO BREAK IT DOWN LIKE YOU'RE UNDEVOTED!!!
DON'T NEED A FUCKIN' MOTIVE!!
I HOPE YOU'RE READY TO BBBBLLLLEEEEDDDD!!!
His attire consists of a hooded, patchwork leather vest decorated with the word "HARDCORE" on his shoulders, black leather tights done in similar fashion to his vest, maroon boots with silver knee and kick pads, and tape on his fists. In his hand is a barbwire wrapped silver mop handle sporting black electrical tape at both ends.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: MAKING HIS WAY TO THE RING! HE STANDS AT SIX FOOT TWO AND WEIGHS IN AT 241 lbs. HAILING FROM JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY....
Arriving at ringside, he climbs onto the ring apron and walks to the very center of that apron. Turning to face the fans, Jack throws his arms out at his sides. His face is a burning, intense scowl as he surveys the crowd. He then turns and enters the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: HARDCORE... JACK NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAADDDDDD!!!
He throws his hood back to reveal his slightly crooked nose and dark brown eyes. Long stringy black hair hangs in his face as he lowers his head forward to glare at the camera from beneath the ridge of his brow. Jack then throws his arms out at his sides, fists clenched tightly with the mop handle held firmly in hand and spins around to scowl at the audience. He removes his vest and tosses it over to his corner where a ring attendant takes it.
PHILO: Last time we saw Hardcore Jack Nomad approach the ring it was to beat up Tapioca Joe. But he won't be sucker punching his opponent tonight.
CHARISSA: Hey, this match hasn't even started yet, don't you go saying Jack won't land a sucker punch. If I was Luke Knux, I'd be watching out for it. Course if I was Luke Knux I wouldn't be wasting my pretty face in a wrestling ring when I could be getting with fine announcers like Charissa Clark.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And the challenger...
Slash ft. Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators 'World On Fire' hits the sound system and the lights go down. Smoke begins filling the stage as we hear the opening of the song. A few riffs of a guitar, then when the drums hit and lyrics kick in, Luke Knux comes out from the back in his usual attire. A cigarette hangs from his lips as he walks out staring down the crowd. He walks from one end of the stage to the other staring down the crowd before returning to the middle and then raising the metal horns. He puts them down and begins down the ramp.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Hailing from Castle Knux on Knuxy Island, weighing in at 190 pounds, he is the Suicidal Scumbag, LUKE KNNNNNUUXXXXXXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Luke is now at the end of the ramp as he stops to look around the arena. Knux takes the last hit of the cigarette and then tosses it on the ground and stomps it out. As Luke reaches ringside he removes his leather jacket and hands it to Alexandra Kelly without ever actually looking at her. He throws out a causal 'Thanks, doll' as he climbs into the ring. The Pixie jumps up as though to follow him in, only to be stopped by A-Ref. Luke takes advantage of the to surprise Nomad with a boot square to the knee, backs into the ropes for some momentum, and nails Nomad with a knee right to the sternum. Jack grunts, but doesn't go down as the bell rings.
PHILO: Luke Knux creating some chaos there by pretending to mistake Pixie for the ring girl, and this match is underway!
CHARISSA: I'm not a hundred percent sure that was a pretend mistake. You know rockstars, they never notice the little guy.
PHILO: I somehow feel you are projecting right now.
Knux grabs Jack by the arm and hammer throws him into the far ropes, intercepts the now charging Hardcore Jack Nomad, and lift him for a booming sidewalk slam. Knux takes a moment to relish the hit a play an air guitar riff before returning to his feet one step ahead of an also rising Jack Nomad. Knux fires in a pair of right hooks to the head to keep control, once more Irish whipping Jack Nomad into the ropes and dropping into position for a back body drop. Jack sees it coming and instead delivers a sliding elbow to the jaw, popping Luke up before sending him reeling to the ropes. Jack hits the ropes of his own accord this time and sends the Rock Star to the floor with a huge clothes line. As Luke recovers against the ring barrier Alexandra Kelly smugly drapes his leather jacket over his face.
CHARISSA: Knux had that if not more coming, and look at the clever little Pixie not actually touching Luke Knux.
PHILO: It's not a technical violation, but it's intent is clear. Watch out for the Pixie.
As A-Ref makes a count Luke removes his coat from his face and flings a snarl at Alexandra. He instructs A-Ref to get Jack to back off and let him in, before climbing the ring stairs and reentering the ring. The competitors circle one another briefly, Jack trying to shoot in on Luke, who goes behind to get the standing waste lock on Jack. Jack brings his hands in and forces them under the Rock Star's guard, transitioning into a chickenwing. Luke Knux fights through the chicken wing, spins out, grabs a headlock and bulldogs Jack hard to the ground.
PHILO: Nice display by both men there, with Luke Knux keeping a step ahead in this match.
CHARISSA: He feels good about himself now, but give Jack time to get in a few more hits like that elbow. Luke Knux might be singing a power ballad tonight.
Once more getting the headlock, Luke Knux brings Jack back to his feet and into the corner. Luke throws a pair of stinging chops to the chest of Nomad before stepping back to measure. He lunges out with a huge spinning heel kick, but Nomad lets himself fall to the ground, hits a rising tackle to the ground, and begins unload lefts and rights to the head of Luke Knux. The Pixie cheers at ringside, joined by many of the nearby fans, as A-Ref admonishes Nomad to let Knux up, finally having to result to a four count before Nomad lets up.
CHARISSA: I know you don't have to be beautiful to be a rock star, but I am saying I wouldn't be this worried if Jack Nomad had been punching him in the throat.
PHILO: A reversal of fortune from Hardcore Jack Nomad, just raining down a veritable storm of blows. Knux has got to be hearing feedback right now.
Jack helps Luke to his feet and brings him in close, lifting him up for the Samoan drop. Knux slides free and finds himself eye to eye with Jack. The two PAW stars begin unloading strikes on one another, the crowd coming alive with noise as the flurry of blows continues. As the initial adrenaline surges wear off it is clear that Jack Nomad is coming out of the exchange still in control of the match, catching a lazy haymaker from Knux and uppercutting Luke square in the jaw again, sending him butt first to the mat.
CHARISSA: Not a good idea to stand toe to toe with Jack Nomad.
PHILO: I Think Luke Knux might be tempted to agree with you at the moment. Jack shrugging off those blows at the moment, but all the damage does still add up.
Nomad charges the seated Luke and jumps for his signature Muay Thai knee strike; Luke ducks the knee, kips up and hits a no look reverse neckbreaker!
PHILO: Luke Knux, finding a chance to take control again.
CHARISSA: He stopped whatever Jack had in mind, but I don't think we can call this control. Both men are on the mat.
A-Ref begins a count as Pixie urges on a slow clap from her and Jack's fans in the audience, though despite her best efforts Jack Nomad is up a second behind Luke Knux. Hardcore throws a powerful double axe handle, but Luke is quick to duck, take a half step back and rock Nomad with a spinning heel kick. Nomad grunts and wavers but remains standing. A half a step to the left and a counter clockwise spin deliver a second spinning heel kick to the opposite side of Nomads face, but still he keeps his feet. Knux hits the ropes for a head of steam as he jumps up and wraps his hands around the back of Jack's head. Before the sitout facebuster can bring Nomad to the ground, he gets both hands on Knux's chest, pushing while all his might and breaking the hold. Both men stagger for a moment before walking into one another in the middle of the ring. Both men hit the ropes, and both men try for a crossbody, colliding hard in midair and taking them both the to mat. The crowd screams it's approval for both men as a count begins.
CHARISSA: Look at that beautiful cross body from Jack Nomad, got Knux down on the mat sucking wind.
PHILO: And what of the crossbody out of Luke Knux? Did that leave Jack Nomad any less stunned?
CHARISSA: Oh, what's it matter, a crossbody isn't going to end this match.
This time it is Jack Nomad who is first on his feet, dragging Knux the rest of the way to his and whipping him to the corner. Nomad follows in with a shoulder tackle before lifting Luke Knux up to the top rope and following him up. Nomad throws a pair of shots to the kidney, lifts Knux up, and brings the Rock Star down hard with a superplex! Nomad covers while Pixie leads a count.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kick out!
Nomad looks unhappy with the results of the count, taking a moment to not quite glare at A-Ref. Knux rolls to the ropes, trying to regain himself, but Nomad is quick to pull him to the middle of the ring. Knux gets to a knee, allowing Jack to grab his hand and apply a twisting wrist lock. Jack roughly pulls Luke all the way up to standing, then begins to throw kicks to the leg, knee and hip of Luke Knux.
CHARISSA: Something Fancy! And a great bit of strategy; stop letting Knux more quicker than you can.
PHILO: Certainly a viable strategy, and right now it seems to be working, Nomad is all over Knux.
A swift kick to the elbow followed by a stomp to the knee sees Nomad break the hold and stand menacingly over his victim. In one smooth motion he lifts the Rock Star from his kneeling position, hoists him into the air and delivers a huge powerbomb! Nomad keeps the hold and bridges over for leverage.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kick out! Another near fall for Hardcore Jack Nomad. Luke Knux still finding his way to kick out.
CHARISSA: But for how much longer. Nomad has about fifty pounds on Knux, and he's fighting like it.
Nomad brings Luke to his hands and knees, locking in a half nelson to bring Knux the rest of the war to standing. As Jack lifts him for the half nelson suplex, Luke wiggles free, ducks a punch and hits the ropes. He gets no further though, Alexandra Kelly tripping him to the ground from her position at ringside. As A-Ref goes to read her the riot act, Nomad takes advantage to land a series of closed fist punches to the back of the Rock Star's head. Jack rolls him onto his back before dragging him a bit closer to the turn buckle.
CHARISSA: Looks like Hardcore's getting ready to fly. I'm betting he's looking to put Luke Knux away with one more big move.
PHILO: One more big move could do it after that series of illegal punches. Knux is in a world of pain.
CHARISSA: Only illegal if you get caught, Philo.
Jack takes a moment before the climb to catch his breath, then quickly assailing the the turnbuckle, takes a moment to measure, and leaps off with a rolling knee drop. The force of the blow raises the limp body of Luke Knux up like a rag doll. Nomad hooks a leg.
1...
2..
Th-
PHILO: He gets the shoulder up! Knux gets the shoulder up!
CHARISSA: Impossible! That must have been a slow count!
Both Nomad and Pixie seem to share this opinion, Alexandra jumping up on the apron to yell at A-Ref, and being joined by her boyfriend Jack Nomad. A-Ref continues to assert the fairness of his call and goes so far as to send Pixie back to the locker room. This news makes neither pair very happy, and they get even less so as Luke Knux uses the distraction to nail Jack Nomad with a low blow uppercut! Pixie shrieks at the official to witness the injustice in the ring, but he is dead set on getting her to head back up the ramp. Finally she relents, under penalty of forfeiture for Jack Nomad. Luke falls back into the corner, smile on his lips as he watches Jack lay on the mat, holding himself in pain.
CHARISSA: Oh, that was a blatant low blow by Luke Knux, and would you look at him? He's happy with himself!
PHILO: Pixie and Hardcore had already used the distraction against him. Turnabout is fair play.
After a breather, Luke uses the ropes to assist himself back to standing, stalking over to Jack just as he's trying to push himself to his feet. Luke cuts him off and whips him to the ropes, hitting him with a pendulum backbreaker. Luke stays on the offensive and headlocks Nomad, pulling him with some effort to his knees. Knux shifts his hold down and plants Jack's head into the mat with a kneeling DDT. For a moment Nomad pops to his knees, before crumpling slowly to his back. Knux is back up to play to the fans, who shower him with cheers for his effort. The cheers renew when Knux takes to the top turnbuckle and walks out onto the rope itself.
PHILO: Looking for the Ragnarok and Roll Moonsault.
Knux leaps off and lands chest first across Jack Nomad. He hooks the leg.
PHILO: He got it!
1...
2...
Thr-
PHILO: Kick Out! Luke Knux now with a near fall! These men have been throwing themselves at each other to win tonight, how much more do they have to do to one another before we have a winner here tonight?
CHARISSA: All I know is it's more than that to put Jack Nomad away.
Knux can't believe it as he rolls releases the hold, looking at A-Ref with a pleading look in his eyes and three fingers held up. A-Ref shakes his head no and signals two as Luke returns his focus to Jack Nomad. Throwing some kicks to keep Hardcore Jack Nomad off his balance, Luke begins to pull him back to standing. The deadweight of Nomad proves hard to get into position, and even harder still for Luke Knux to bring into the butterfly hold. As Knux tries to transition into the suplex, Nomad gets his feet free and instead back body drops Luke Knux.
CHARISSA: Hardcore Jack Nomad getting himself right back in this fight, using that size advantage to reverse Luke Knux.
PHILO: Nomad has certainly been very game in his debut Pure Amusement match. Let's see if he can finish the job.
Nomad follows up putting Luke on the ground with a springboard rolling knee drop, bouncing the rock Star's head off the mat. Luke drops down to one knee behind the prone form of Luke Knux, and waits for him to show signs of life. As Luke stirs, Jack begins firing in kicks to the side of the chest, across the ribs and kidney. He kicks Luke into a kneeling position, takes a few steps back, and hits a jumping knee strike. Knux is sent hard back to the mat, rolling to the ring apron. Jack tries to pull Luke back into the ring, but the Rock Star keeps a hold of the bottom rope, causing A-Ref to issue a count to Nomad. Jack backs off a step to let Knux back up, a step Knux uses to hit a toe kick of his own followed by a straight right hand to the side of Nomads head. Jack's head turns, but barely, and he fixes Luke with a look of pure death.
PHILO: I don't like the look I'm seeing on Nomad right now. He looks like he wants to kill Knux.
CHARISSA: Nomad likes to hurt people, he was very clear on that. Doesn't much care for Knux, made that clear to. I've been wondering when this look would show up, myself.
Jack nails a hard boot to dead center kneecap of Luke Knux, bringing him down to a knee. Nomad is quick to wrap up Lukes arms and apply a full clutch. Hold applied, Nomad begins throwing knee strikes to Luke's face, the Rock Star not being able to do anything about it. A-Ref drops down to check on Luke, who refuses to quit. A few more strikes from Nomad and A-Ref asks again. Luke shakes his head no. A few more strikes, each with more violence than the last, and A-Ref asks one more time. It proves to be the final time as Luke Knux signals his submission.
PHILO: And Knux left with no recourse but to give, and that's a vicious little move.
CHARISSA: It's the Face Breaker, Philo! If the hold don't get ya, the hits will!
A-Ref calls for the bell, and has to talk to Jack Nomad for a few seconds before he finally releases the hold. Nomad looks down on Knux, who covers his injured face in his palms as his arm is raised in victory.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: The winner of this contest by submission, HARDCOREE JACKKK NOMADDDD!!!
He looks out at the crowd who are a mixed reaction of boos and cheers, before stepping over to celebrate in the corner. Suddenly darkness fills the arena as several lightning strikes strike the entrance ramp, each strike lighting up the arena brighter and brighter. After the fourth strike silence fills the arena as the giant screen above the stage comes to life with words scrolling across it.
Yea though I walk through the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil.
I do not fear the valley.
For I am the shadow.
As soon as the words appear on the screen they are quickly replaced by a shadowy figure. A loud boom sounds over head followed by another crack of lightning as the lights come back on. Nomad looks around in confusion in the ring as Knux slowly makes his way up the ramp.
CHARISSA: Um....what the fuck was that?
PHILO: I don't know, but Nomad looks as confused as we are. You know, the last time I saw effects like this, there was this bad bitch under a mask running roughshod on everyone. You don't think...
CHARISSA: Let me cut you off right there, Philo. We are not talking about that! What are you trying to do? Summon bad luck?
PHILO: Well, I guess we'll find out eventually. No reason to sit around guessing, when we've got more PAW Action on the way!
The camera catches up to Flaming Youth as he strolls through the backstage area whistling a Scumbag Society tune. He rounds the corner into a familiar hallway, the same one from earlier where Trixie's dressing room is. As he passes by, he notices the door open, and gives a quick scan before continuing on. He comes to a dead stop, forcing the camera to abruptly bump into him. He shakes his head, confusion masking his expression, as he slowly backs up to the doorway, and now full on stares into the room. The camera swings around his shoulder to get a peek, and inside, is none other than the deranged clown, Redrum, with a fistfull of Trixie's panties held up to his nose. The clown, completely unaware he's been seen, closes his eyes and takes a huge sniff before shuddering, and giggling, all at the same time. When he finally looks up, he see's Youth for the first time, and he immediately lets his hand fall down by his side, staring at the voyeur with an expression of shock and embarrassment.
REDRUM: Uh...dude....it's not what it looks like!
Redrum pauses, looks down to the panties in his fist, then back up to Youth, then back down to the panties.
REDRUM: Well, yeah. I guess it is. But...but...
Youth holds his hand straight out, palm up, to halt any further explanation the clown could offer.
YOUTH: That's just bad form, clown. Bad form.
Youth shakes his head in disgust before stepping out of the doorway, and getting back on his way. Redrum sighs heavily, then shrugs, stuffing the panties into his pocket, and then rushing out of the room past the camera. The scene fades to ringside.
CHARISSA: Um....what the fuck was that?
PHILO: I don't know, but Nomad looks as confused as we are. You know, the last time I saw effects like this, there was this bad bitch under a mask running roughshod on everyone. You don't think...
CHARISSA: Let me cut you off right there, Philo. We are not talking about that! What are you trying to do? Summon bad luck?
PHILO: Well, I guess we'll find out eventually. No reason to sit around guessing, when we've got more PAW Action on the way!
REDRUM: Uh...dude....it's not what it looks like!
Redrum pauses, looks down to the panties in his fist, then back up to Youth, then back down to the panties.
REDRUM: Well, yeah. I guess it is. But...but...
Youth holds his hand straight out, palm up, to halt any further explanation the clown could offer.
YOUTH: That's just bad form, clown. Bad form.
Youth shakes his head in disgust before stepping out of the doorway, and getting back on his way. Redrum sighs heavily, then shrugs, stuffing the panties into his pocket, and then rushing out of the room past the camera. The scene fades to ringside.
Triple Threat
Alexandra Kelly versus Trixie versus Johnny Sykes
PHILO: REDRUM IS A PANTIE SNIFFER!
CHARISSA: That's......that's a disturbed clown.
PHILO: Oh God. You don't think those are the same panties with the itching powder do you?
CHARISSA: Now that you mention it, they did sort of look familiar.
PHILO: How is this even possible? Trixie is all about kicking people in the crotch, and everyone else is interested in getting close to hers.
CHARISSA: It's the price you pay for being hot, Philo. Not that you'd know.
PHILO: HEY! I'll have you know my mother says I'm a very handsome boy.
CHARISSA: Oh, I'm not even going to touch that one. Thank God for Rhonda!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: This match is scheduled for one fall, and will be under Triple Threat Rules!!
The lights in the arena suddenly dim when the first notes of 'Fresh Blood' by The She Demons blast out of the speakers. Mixed reactions are given by the audience, but mostly positive chants start. There is a single purple spot light that falls onto the entrance ramp, which moments later gets filled by a petite female. Alexandra Kelly, or better known as the Pixie. She stands still for a few moments, soaking in the atmosphere.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, standing at five foot two inches tall, and weighing in at 107 pounds, she hails from West Palm Beach, Florida....she is 'THE PIXIE' ALEXANDRA KELLY!!
The Team Pixie chants erupt when the small devil starts walking down the ramp, touching a few hands here and there, wearing that famous business smile. With the music playing loud by now, Pixie takes a few moments to pose in front of the ring, making sure to take time to point at some of the crowd. She finally slides inside the ring in a rather graceful manner, making her way to one of the corners to hop up on the second turnbuckle to engage the crowd.
PHILO: This is an exciting time for PAW with all of the recent acquisitions! It's really changing the landscape around here.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and 'The Pixie' is one of our biggest names to date!
'Take It Off' by The Donnas suddenly overrides Pixie's music, and the woman casts her gaze towards the entrance way where Trixie appears at the top of the ramp to a similar ovation. She performs a twirl, and then pauses to bend forward to adjust her boot to accentuate her apple bottom, before spinning and biting her fist, sashaying down to the ring in a straight line.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing next, standing at five foot six, and weighing in at 133 pounds, she hails from Las Vegas, Nevada...This is TRIXIE!!
Trixie reaches the ring, and hops up on the apron, and gyrates for the crowd who half cheer, half boo. She slowly enters the ring through the middle and bottom rope, pausing for the flash photography that's going off all around her, and then she stands up inside the ring, a devilish grin on her face.
PHILO: Well, it looks like Trixie's ready for this match.
CHARISSA: This is her second Triple Threat in a row, Philo, and hopefully she'll fare a little better in this one than she did in the first one.
The announce team are abruptly cut off by the 'Party Boy Theme' by Dickhouse productions, and the fans instantly come alive, knowing who is about to come through the curtain. After a few seconds, Johnny Sykes pushes his patented shopping cart out, pausing at the top of the stage to survey the cheering crowd.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: and their opponent, standing at five foot ten, weighing in at 201 pounds, hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, He may or may not be a Superhero in disguise. The Half Man, Half Amazing Original Pranksta... JOHNNY F'N SYKES!
Without a second thought, he hops into the cart, and begins rocking it forwards, until finally it teeters on the edge of the rampway, before hauling ass down towards ringside. Just as the cart is about to strike the ring, he leaps forwards, tucking his head as he sails over the top rope, and lands into the ring, rolling through all the way back up to his feet with his fists over his head. He takes off to one of the unoccupied corners and leaps up to the second rope, pulling his T-shirt off, and wadding it up and tossing it out at the crowd who cheer even louder for the Original Pranksta. After soaking it in for a few more minutes, he hops down, his music fading, and turns to face his two beautiful opponents.
CHARISSA: Man, this shit is like dejavu!
PHILO: What do you mean?
CHARISSA: One guy, two chicks, and not in the way that finishes with a happy ending.
PHILO: You never know, Charissa, you have to imagine who ever picks up the victory will be pretty happy.
CHARISSA: Yeah, with themselves. That's not how happy endings work, Philo.
PHILO: Well the way this match works is that all three are in the ring at the same time, and we just got the bell from A-Ref signaling that this match is underway!
The three competitors eye one another for a few moments, with Sykes developing a smirk on his face. He steps over to the ropes, exits the ring to the outside, and then turns back to his opponents who are now both watching him suspiciously. Sykes grins, and starts yelling, 'Girl on Girl, Girl on Girl, Girl on Girl'. Soon the entire crowd has taken up the chant, and both women shake their head at Sykes, then look to one another. Trixie shrugs at Kelly, before throwing in a stiff boot that doubles the woman over.
PHILO: Johnny Sykes has incited this crowd to get in on some 'Girl on Girl' action, and although Alexandra Kelly looked to be unimpressed by it, Trixie has taken full advantage of it by scoring the first blow.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and I don't think she's going to stop with one, Philo.
Trixie drives in a few forearms to force Pixie back into the ropes, before taking her by the wrist and sending her to the other side. Kelly rebounds, and Trixie springs forwards with a lariat, which Kelly ducks. On her way back through, Trixie swipes with a chop, but again, Kelly ducks it. Just as she's on her way back, Trixie ducks her head for a back body, but Kelly is wise to the move, and leap frogs over her to land behind her. When Trixie spins around, Kelly grabs her by a fistful of hair, and sends her down hard to the mat with a European Uppercut.
PHILO: Wow! What a shot by Alexandra Kelly to Trixie! She calls that the X-Ray!
Trixie, not willing to stay down long, is already halfway to her feet when Kelly storms in and shoves her into a corner. From there, The Pixie drops her shoulder into Trixie's abdomen, and then pulls back, and delivers one more thrust, driving the air out of the Blonde Bombshell. Kelly drops her right foot back before coming back upright, and uses all of the force in her petite body to drive her forearm right into Trixie's face. The move drops the blonde to one knee, and she shakes her head to try and remove the cobwebs.
PHILO: That one really rang Trixie's bell, and Alexandra Kelly looks to be in complete control, dragging Trixie out of the corner, hooking her by the arms, and OH! Double Underhook Suplex!!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and that fool Sykes is still on the outside chatting it up with the fans!
Pixie floats over to go for a quick cover, and Sykes for the first time in the match seems to take notice of what's happening in the ring.
1...
Sykes hops up on the ring apron, and grabs the top rope.
2...
In one swift motion, Sykes uses the rope to send himself sailing into the ring, lands on his feet, and then reaches down to jerk Kelly off the cover.
PHILO: Well, Johnny Sykes has officially entered the match!
CHARISSA: Yeah, after a good five minutes of pandering to the crowd!
Sykes hops up, as does Kelly, and the two stare at each other before Alex reaches up and slaps Johnny across the jaw. At least that's what she was trying for, when he ducks, hooks her arm, and drops to the mat taking her over into a backslide.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kickout from Alexandra Kelly! We all heard in his promo that he doesn't hit women, but how in the hell does he expect to win this match without mounting some sort of offense?
CHARISSA: You know, truth be told, I think it's sort of sweet. Sweet in the way an autistic kid recites radio jingles.
Kelly pops up to her feet and is met by Johnny Sykes, who takes care to tie the woman up without actually having to harm her. Unaware that Trixie is getting back to her feet, Sykes takes Pixie by the wrist, and sends her across to the other side. Just when it looks like Trixie and Kelly are about to collide, Trixie drops down to her stomach, forcing Kelly to hop over her or trip. On her rebound, Trixie remains down, forcing Kelly to hop over her for a second time, and when she reaches Sykes, he lowers his shoulder, and sends her up and over the top rope. Kelly is able to grab the top rope on her way out, and uses it to stabilize her drop, thus landing safely on the ring apron.
PHILO: Sykes thinks he got rid of Kelly, and now he's rushing in on Trixie who just got up to her feet. Trixie ducks out of the way, and Sykes continues to the ropes for added momentum. On his way back now, and Trixie side steps him again, and he runs right into a shoulder thrust through the ropes from Pixie!
CHARISSA: Sykes is doubled over, and Kelly is gripping the top rope, launching herself back into the ring for a sunset flip!
PHILO: OH! Not even a count of one before Trixie stepped in and punted Kelly right in the face!
CHARISSA: This action is fast and furious, Philo! It's almost too much to call!
As Alexandra Kelly grips her injured face, Sykes rolls up to his feet, spins to get a bead on Trixie, who meets him with a knee strike to the gut. Then another. She then laces her hands behind the man's head, and keep's him lowered so that she can drive her knee into his face repeatedly. The bombardment drops Sykes to one knee, and Trixie releases him, falling back into the ropes for some spring, and comes sailing back with a clothesline that takes him down hard to the mat.
PHILO: Trixie has effectively taken Sykes down for the moment, while Kelly rolled to the outside to examine her nose. It might be broken after that stiff kick that the Blonde Beauty gave her!
CHARISSA: I bet she's imagining that these two are CJ O'Donnell every time she hits them.
Trixie steps over to the far corner, steps between the ropes, and begins to climb to the top. The crowd cheers as she reaches her perch, and she screams at Sykes to get back to his feet. The Original Pranksta slowly begins to comply, stumbling a bit, his face already bruising from the knee onslaught from a moment ago. He turns just in time to see Alexandra Kelly hop up onto the ring apron, and yank Trixie's leg out from under her, causing her to come down crotch first on the top turnbuckle.
PHILO: OH! There are some here in PAW that might consider that poetic justice after all the low blows dealt out by Trixie!
CHARISSA: That girl just got a taste of her own medicine!
Sykes, seeing that Trixie is momentarily incapacitated, rushes towards Kelly only to be met with a hard slap that jars his senses, and causes him to take a surprised step back. It's all the time Kelly needs to slip back in the ring, and go to work with forearm smashes that drive the man back to the center of the ring. Once there, she delivers a boot to the midsection, hooks him around the head, and goes to lift him into the air for a suplex. He blocks the first attempt, and the second, then uses his obvious weight and strength advantage to lift Pixie up instead. He holds her there for a minute, as she struggles to get out of it, before setting her back down to the mat, and then taking her into an inside cradle.
PHILO: This guy is ridiculous! He better start hitting these women, cause they aren't holding anything back on him!
CHARISSA: Maybe so, but he's got her locked into a tight cover right now!
1...
2...
Thr...Trixie comes off the top with a double axe-handle right across the back of Sykes' head, breaking the count at the last possible second.
CHARISSA: Big save from Trixie!
PHILO: Yeah, and she's not done. She just jerked Johnny Sykes up by the hair of the head, and shoved him into the corner. OH! Chop! Another one! And Another!
While Trixie attempts to chop down Sykes, Alexandra Kelly rolls over to the ropes, and uses them to aid herself back up to her feet. She see's the action taking place in the corner, and rushes forwards, nailing Trixie from behind with a splash that sends her crashing into Sykes who's pinned by the turnbuckles. As Kelly steps back, she wraps her arms around Trixie's waste, and delivers a textbook belly to back suplex that folds Trixie up like an accordion.
PHILO: Jesus Christ! That was brutal!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but she better watch out....OH! SYKES JUST STORMED OUT OF THE CORNER AND TOOK HER HEAD OFF WITH THAT CLOTHESLINE!!
PHILO: Yeah, but now he's beside himself. He can't believe what he's done!
For the first time, both women are down, and Sykes looks around at the capacity crowd with bruises on his face and a lit up chest. They cheer for him, pointing to the ropes, but he shakes his head 'no'. The crowd begins to boo, and for the first time Sykes is at a complete loss, being unaccustomed to not having the fans solidly behind him. Finally, he makes his way towards the corner, slowly climbing to the top turning the boo's into cheers. Once on top, he looks out at the crowd, who have started a 'Sykes' chant. He takes one final moment to consider it before shrugging, and leaping into the air into a frog splash. He comes crashing down across both women, bounces up into the air, and then lands on his back off to the side of them cradling his bread basket.
PHILO: BREATHTAKING HIGH RISK MOVE FROM JOHNNY SYKES! FINALLY!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but he can't capitalize on it! He's still down as well!
A-Ref looks over the three competitors, and having no other recourse, starts the 10 count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: Someone's going to have to dig down deep here, if they want to win this one.
4...
5...
6...
CHARISSA: It's well documented that Johnny Sykes is the kind of guy who will put his body on the line in order to bring these fans to their feet, but what good does it do if it costs you the match?
7...
PHILO: Wait...Johnny is starting to pull himself over to the ropes.
CHARISSA: So is Pixie!
8...
9...
Johnny Sykes and Alexandra Kelly get to their feet on opposite sides of the ring at the same time, breaking the count. They both sit back into their respective corners, looking out across the prone body of Trixie, who has yet to move. When their eyes meet, they both give a nod, and charge out of their respective corners to meet in the center of the ring. The crowd goes nuts for this, when suddenly, Trixie pops up to her knee's, extends her fists out to either side of her, lets out a rebel yell, and brings both of her forearms up into her opponent's crotches, causing the crowd to go even more ballistic. Kelly and Sykes both lean forward, eyes bulging, before falling to the mat and clutching at their groins.
PHILO: I can't believe this!
CHARISSA: She was lying in wait, just picking the right opportunity to strike!
PHILO: Seriously, we can't go one match without her kicking or punching someone in their 'No Fly Zone'.
CHARISSA: Well, the fans seem to love it, and that's all that matters!
Trixie rises to her feet, staring down at her injured opponents, and then up at the cheering crowd. They even start a 'Trixie' chant, and she nods with a coy grin, before returning her attention to the match. She plays a bit of 'eanie, meanie, miney, moe' before allowing her finger to come to rest on Kelly. She reaches down, pulling the woman unceremoniously to her feet by her hair, and then runs her head first straight for the ropes, sending her up and over to tumble to the concrete floor below. She then turns, and gets in position to wait for Johnny Sykes to get back to his feet.
PHILO: Trixie is lying in wait, while Johnny Sykes pulls himself up. He turns around, and there goes Trixie....SHINING APPRENTICE! NO! SYKES WAS ABLE TO DUCK HIS HEAD! Trixie lands flat on her stomach, and as she's on her way back up, he tumbles over her, hooks her, and rolls her into a small package!
1...
2...
CHARISSA: Kick out! Trixie getting back up, but so is Sykes!
Trixie goes for a slap to Johnny on his way up, but Sykes ducks it, hooking Trixie around the waist, and running her towards the ropes. When the two reach the ropes, they are both surprised by the appearance of Pixie, who grabs the top rope, and drops down while still holding onto it. With the ropes lowered, both Trixie and Sykes go tumbling out onto the concrete floor, landing with Trixie on top of Sykes. Sykes holds his abdomen, the air being knocked out of him from the landing, while Kelly grabs Trixie up by the hair of the head, and shoots her into the ring. She follows her in quickly, popping up to her feet waiting by the ropes for Trixie to rise. The Blonde Bombshell obliges, disoriented from the tumble outside, and just when she tries to get her bearings Pixie charges in, hopping up to hook Trixie in a head scissors, and then spinning through to where she can hook the other woman's arm. When she yanks back, Trixie screams out in pain from the submission move.
PHILO: THE ALEX EFFECT!! Alexandra Kelly has Trixie tied up in her patented submission move, and the Blonde Bombshell has nowhere to go!
CHARISSA: Look at that torque!
Trixie continues to shake her head no, while Johnny Sykes tries to collect himself on the outside. He pulls himself up to his feet, and when he see's the predicament that Trixie is in, he darts towards the ring in order to try and save the match for himself. Just as he slides in, Trixie's hand begins tapping Kelly's thigh. A-Ref turns, and calls for the bell.
PHILO: Alexandra Kelly just took the match, and Johnny Sykes looks like he can't believe it.
CHARISSA: If that moron had just socked it to those women in the first place, he might be the one having his hand raised.
Kelly quickly lets loose of the submission, falls to the mat, and rolls til she is safely outside the ring before looking back at the bewildered Johnny Sykes with a coy smile on her face. A-Ref slips out of the ring after her, and takes her by the wrist to raise her hand in victory, while she uses the other to wave at Sykes.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: The winner of this contest by submission, "THE PIXIE" ALEXANDRAAAA KELLYYYYY!!!
PHILO: Tough fought battle by all three participants, but that tumble at the end really put the nail in the coffin on Johnny Sykes.
CHARISSA: No, that fool not slapping the shit out of one of these Hoes is what put the kabash on it.
PHILO: And they say chivalry is dead.
CHARISSA: Fuck that. When management gives you the legal right to slap the taste outta bitches mouth, then you do it. Plain and simple.
PHILO: I'm pretty sure you just set feminism back a hundred years with that comment, but who am I to say. Up next, The Box Office with Cross Recoba, after these words from our sponsors.
CHARISSA: That's......that's a disturbed clown.
PHILO: Oh God. You don't think those are the same panties with the itching powder do you?
CHARISSA: Now that you mention it, they did sort of look familiar.
PHILO: How is this even possible? Trixie is all about kicking people in the crotch, and everyone else is interested in getting close to hers.
CHARISSA: It's the price you pay for being hot, Philo. Not that you'd know.
PHILO: HEY! I'll have you know my mother says I'm a very handsome boy.
CHARISSA: Oh, I'm not even going to touch that one. Thank God for Rhonda!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: This match is scheduled for one fall, and will be under Triple Threat Rules!!
The lights in the arena suddenly dim when the first notes of 'Fresh Blood' by The She Demons blast out of the speakers. Mixed reactions are given by the audience, but mostly positive chants start. There is a single purple spot light that falls onto the entrance ramp, which moments later gets filled by a petite female. Alexandra Kelly, or better known as the Pixie. She stands still for a few moments, soaking in the atmosphere.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, standing at five foot two inches tall, and weighing in at 107 pounds, she hails from West Palm Beach, Florida....she is 'THE PIXIE' ALEXANDRA KELLY!!
The Team Pixie chants erupt when the small devil starts walking down the ramp, touching a few hands here and there, wearing that famous business smile. With the music playing loud by now, Pixie takes a few moments to pose in front of the ring, making sure to take time to point at some of the crowd. She finally slides inside the ring in a rather graceful manner, making her way to one of the corners to hop up on the second turnbuckle to engage the crowd.
PHILO: This is an exciting time for PAW with all of the recent acquisitions! It's really changing the landscape around here.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and 'The Pixie' is one of our biggest names to date!
'Take It Off' by The Donnas suddenly overrides Pixie's music, and the woman casts her gaze towards the entrance way where Trixie appears at the top of the ramp to a similar ovation. She performs a twirl, and then pauses to bend forward to adjust her boot to accentuate her apple bottom, before spinning and biting her fist, sashaying down to the ring in a straight line.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing next, standing at five foot six, and weighing in at 133 pounds, she hails from Las Vegas, Nevada...This is TRIXIE!!
Trixie reaches the ring, and hops up on the apron, and gyrates for the crowd who half cheer, half boo. She slowly enters the ring through the middle and bottom rope, pausing for the flash photography that's going off all around her, and then she stands up inside the ring, a devilish grin on her face.
PHILO: Well, it looks like Trixie's ready for this match.
CHARISSA: This is her second Triple Threat in a row, Philo, and hopefully she'll fare a little better in this one than she did in the first one.
The announce team are abruptly cut off by the 'Party Boy Theme' by Dickhouse productions, and the fans instantly come alive, knowing who is about to come through the curtain. After a few seconds, Johnny Sykes pushes his patented shopping cart out, pausing at the top of the stage to survey the cheering crowd.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: and their opponent, standing at five foot ten, weighing in at 201 pounds, hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, He may or may not be a Superhero in disguise. The Half Man, Half Amazing Original Pranksta... JOHNNY F'N SYKES!
Without a second thought, he hops into the cart, and begins rocking it forwards, until finally it teeters on the edge of the rampway, before hauling ass down towards ringside. Just as the cart is about to strike the ring, he leaps forwards, tucking his head as he sails over the top rope, and lands into the ring, rolling through all the way back up to his feet with his fists over his head. He takes off to one of the unoccupied corners and leaps up to the second rope, pulling his T-shirt off, and wadding it up and tossing it out at the crowd who cheer even louder for the Original Pranksta. After soaking it in for a few more minutes, he hops down, his music fading, and turns to face his two beautiful opponents.
CHARISSA: Man, this shit is like dejavu!
PHILO: What do you mean?
CHARISSA: One guy, two chicks, and not in the way that finishes with a happy ending.
PHILO: You never know, Charissa, you have to imagine who ever picks up the victory will be pretty happy.
CHARISSA: Yeah, with themselves. That's not how happy endings work, Philo.
PHILO: Well the way this match works is that all three are in the ring at the same time, and we just got the bell from A-Ref signaling that this match is underway!
The three competitors eye one another for a few moments, with Sykes developing a smirk on his face. He steps over to the ropes, exits the ring to the outside, and then turns back to his opponents who are now both watching him suspiciously. Sykes grins, and starts yelling, 'Girl on Girl, Girl on Girl, Girl on Girl'. Soon the entire crowd has taken up the chant, and both women shake their head at Sykes, then look to one another. Trixie shrugs at Kelly, before throwing in a stiff boot that doubles the woman over.
PHILO: Johnny Sykes has incited this crowd to get in on some 'Girl on Girl' action, and although Alexandra Kelly looked to be unimpressed by it, Trixie has taken full advantage of it by scoring the first blow.
CHARISSA: Yeah, and I don't think she's going to stop with one, Philo.
Trixie drives in a few forearms to force Pixie back into the ropes, before taking her by the wrist and sending her to the other side. Kelly rebounds, and Trixie springs forwards with a lariat, which Kelly ducks. On her way back through, Trixie swipes with a chop, but again, Kelly ducks it. Just as she's on her way back, Trixie ducks her head for a back body, but Kelly is wise to the move, and leap frogs over her to land behind her. When Trixie spins around, Kelly grabs her by a fistful of hair, and sends her down hard to the mat with a European Uppercut.
PHILO: Wow! What a shot by Alexandra Kelly to Trixie! She calls that the X-Ray!
Trixie, not willing to stay down long, is already halfway to her feet when Kelly storms in and shoves her into a corner. From there, The Pixie drops her shoulder into Trixie's abdomen, and then pulls back, and delivers one more thrust, driving the air out of the Blonde Bombshell. Kelly drops her right foot back before coming back upright, and uses all of the force in her petite body to drive her forearm right into Trixie's face. The move drops the blonde to one knee, and she shakes her head to try and remove the cobwebs.
PHILO: That one really rang Trixie's bell, and Alexandra Kelly looks to be in complete control, dragging Trixie out of the corner, hooking her by the arms, and OH! Double Underhook Suplex!!
CHARISSA: Yeah, and that fool Sykes is still on the outside chatting it up with the fans!
Pixie floats over to go for a quick cover, and Sykes for the first time in the match seems to take notice of what's happening in the ring.
1...
Sykes hops up on the ring apron, and grabs the top rope.
2...
In one swift motion, Sykes uses the rope to send himself sailing into the ring, lands on his feet, and then reaches down to jerk Kelly off the cover.
PHILO: Well, Johnny Sykes has officially entered the match!
CHARISSA: Yeah, after a good five minutes of pandering to the crowd!
Sykes hops up, as does Kelly, and the two stare at each other before Alex reaches up and slaps Johnny across the jaw. At least that's what she was trying for, when he ducks, hooks her arm, and drops to the mat taking her over into a backslide.
1...
2...
PHILO: Kickout from Alexandra Kelly! We all heard in his promo that he doesn't hit women, but how in the hell does he expect to win this match without mounting some sort of offense?
CHARISSA: You know, truth be told, I think it's sort of sweet. Sweet in the way an autistic kid recites radio jingles.
Kelly pops up to her feet and is met by Johnny Sykes, who takes care to tie the woman up without actually having to harm her. Unaware that Trixie is getting back to her feet, Sykes takes Pixie by the wrist, and sends her across to the other side. Just when it looks like Trixie and Kelly are about to collide, Trixie drops down to her stomach, forcing Kelly to hop over her or trip. On her rebound, Trixie remains down, forcing Kelly to hop over her for a second time, and when she reaches Sykes, he lowers his shoulder, and sends her up and over the top rope. Kelly is able to grab the top rope on her way out, and uses it to stabilize her drop, thus landing safely on the ring apron.
PHILO: Sykes thinks he got rid of Kelly, and now he's rushing in on Trixie who just got up to her feet. Trixie ducks out of the way, and Sykes continues to the ropes for added momentum. On his way back now, and Trixie side steps him again, and he runs right into a shoulder thrust through the ropes from Pixie!
CHARISSA: Sykes is doubled over, and Kelly is gripping the top rope, launching herself back into the ring for a sunset flip!
PHILO: OH! Not even a count of one before Trixie stepped in and punted Kelly right in the face!
CHARISSA: This action is fast and furious, Philo! It's almost too much to call!
As Alexandra Kelly grips her injured face, Sykes rolls up to his feet, spins to get a bead on Trixie, who meets him with a knee strike to the gut. Then another. She then laces her hands behind the man's head, and keep's him lowered so that she can drive her knee into his face repeatedly. The bombardment drops Sykes to one knee, and Trixie releases him, falling back into the ropes for some spring, and comes sailing back with a clothesline that takes him down hard to the mat.
PHILO: Trixie has effectively taken Sykes down for the moment, while Kelly rolled to the outside to examine her nose. It might be broken after that stiff kick that the Blonde Beauty gave her!
CHARISSA: I bet she's imagining that these two are CJ O'Donnell every time she hits them.
Trixie steps over to the far corner, steps between the ropes, and begins to climb to the top. The crowd cheers as she reaches her perch, and she screams at Sykes to get back to his feet. The Original Pranksta slowly begins to comply, stumbling a bit, his face already bruising from the knee onslaught from a moment ago. He turns just in time to see Alexandra Kelly hop up onto the ring apron, and yank Trixie's leg out from under her, causing her to come down crotch first on the top turnbuckle.
PHILO: OH! There are some here in PAW that might consider that poetic justice after all the low blows dealt out by Trixie!
CHARISSA: That girl just got a taste of her own medicine!
Sykes, seeing that Trixie is momentarily incapacitated, rushes towards Kelly only to be met with a hard slap that jars his senses, and causes him to take a surprised step back. It's all the time Kelly needs to slip back in the ring, and go to work with forearm smashes that drive the man back to the center of the ring. Once there, she delivers a boot to the midsection, hooks him around the head, and goes to lift him into the air for a suplex. He blocks the first attempt, and the second, then uses his obvious weight and strength advantage to lift Pixie up instead. He holds her there for a minute, as she struggles to get out of it, before setting her back down to the mat, and then taking her into an inside cradle.
PHILO: This guy is ridiculous! He better start hitting these women, cause they aren't holding anything back on him!
CHARISSA: Maybe so, but he's got her locked into a tight cover right now!
1...
2...
Thr...Trixie comes off the top with a double axe-handle right across the back of Sykes' head, breaking the count at the last possible second.
CHARISSA: Big save from Trixie!
PHILO: Yeah, and she's not done. She just jerked Johnny Sykes up by the hair of the head, and shoved him into the corner. OH! Chop! Another one! And Another!
While Trixie attempts to chop down Sykes, Alexandra Kelly rolls over to the ropes, and uses them to aid herself back up to her feet. She see's the action taking place in the corner, and rushes forwards, nailing Trixie from behind with a splash that sends her crashing into Sykes who's pinned by the turnbuckles. As Kelly steps back, she wraps her arms around Trixie's waste, and delivers a textbook belly to back suplex that folds Trixie up like an accordion.
PHILO: Jesus Christ! That was brutal!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but she better watch out....OH! SYKES JUST STORMED OUT OF THE CORNER AND TOOK HER HEAD OFF WITH THAT CLOTHESLINE!!
PHILO: Yeah, but now he's beside himself. He can't believe what he's done!
For the first time, both women are down, and Sykes looks around at the capacity crowd with bruises on his face and a lit up chest. They cheer for him, pointing to the ropes, but he shakes his head 'no'. The crowd begins to boo, and for the first time Sykes is at a complete loss, being unaccustomed to not having the fans solidly behind him. Finally, he makes his way towards the corner, slowly climbing to the top turning the boo's into cheers. Once on top, he looks out at the crowd, who have started a 'Sykes' chant. He takes one final moment to consider it before shrugging, and leaping into the air into a frog splash. He comes crashing down across both women, bounces up into the air, and then lands on his back off to the side of them cradling his bread basket.
PHILO: BREATHTAKING HIGH RISK MOVE FROM JOHNNY SYKES! FINALLY!
CHARISSA: Yeah, but he can't capitalize on it! He's still down as well!
A-Ref looks over the three competitors, and having no other recourse, starts the 10 count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: Someone's going to have to dig down deep here, if they want to win this one.
4...
5...
6...
CHARISSA: It's well documented that Johnny Sykes is the kind of guy who will put his body on the line in order to bring these fans to their feet, but what good does it do if it costs you the match?
7...
PHILO: Wait...Johnny is starting to pull himself over to the ropes.
CHARISSA: So is Pixie!
8...
9...
Johnny Sykes and Alexandra Kelly get to their feet on opposite sides of the ring at the same time, breaking the count. They both sit back into their respective corners, looking out across the prone body of Trixie, who has yet to move. When their eyes meet, they both give a nod, and charge out of their respective corners to meet in the center of the ring. The crowd goes nuts for this, when suddenly, Trixie pops up to her knee's, extends her fists out to either side of her, lets out a rebel yell, and brings both of her forearms up into her opponent's crotches, causing the crowd to go even more ballistic. Kelly and Sykes both lean forward, eyes bulging, before falling to the mat and clutching at their groins.
PHILO: I can't believe this!
CHARISSA: She was lying in wait, just picking the right opportunity to strike!
PHILO: Seriously, we can't go one match without her kicking or punching someone in their 'No Fly Zone'.
CHARISSA: Well, the fans seem to love it, and that's all that matters!
Trixie rises to her feet, staring down at her injured opponents, and then up at the cheering crowd. They even start a 'Trixie' chant, and she nods with a coy grin, before returning her attention to the match. She plays a bit of 'eanie, meanie, miney, moe' before allowing her finger to come to rest on Kelly. She reaches down, pulling the woman unceremoniously to her feet by her hair, and then runs her head first straight for the ropes, sending her up and over to tumble to the concrete floor below. She then turns, and gets in position to wait for Johnny Sykes to get back to his feet.
PHILO: Trixie is lying in wait, while Johnny Sykes pulls himself up. He turns around, and there goes Trixie....SHINING APPRENTICE! NO! SYKES WAS ABLE TO DUCK HIS HEAD! Trixie lands flat on her stomach, and as she's on her way back up, he tumbles over her, hooks her, and rolls her into a small package!
1...
2...
CHARISSA: Kick out! Trixie getting back up, but so is Sykes!
Trixie goes for a slap to Johnny on his way up, but Sykes ducks it, hooking Trixie around the waist, and running her towards the ropes. When the two reach the ropes, they are both surprised by the appearance of Pixie, who grabs the top rope, and drops down while still holding onto it. With the ropes lowered, both Trixie and Sykes go tumbling out onto the concrete floor, landing with Trixie on top of Sykes. Sykes holds his abdomen, the air being knocked out of him from the landing, while Kelly grabs Trixie up by the hair of the head, and shoots her into the ring. She follows her in quickly, popping up to her feet waiting by the ropes for Trixie to rise. The Blonde Bombshell obliges, disoriented from the tumble outside, and just when she tries to get her bearings Pixie charges in, hopping up to hook Trixie in a head scissors, and then spinning through to where she can hook the other woman's arm. When she yanks back, Trixie screams out in pain from the submission move.
PHILO: THE ALEX EFFECT!! Alexandra Kelly has Trixie tied up in her patented submission move, and the Blonde Bombshell has nowhere to go!
CHARISSA: Look at that torque!
Trixie continues to shake her head no, while Johnny Sykes tries to collect himself on the outside. He pulls himself up to his feet, and when he see's the predicament that Trixie is in, he darts towards the ring in order to try and save the match for himself. Just as he slides in, Trixie's hand begins tapping Kelly's thigh. A-Ref turns, and calls for the bell.
PHILO: Alexandra Kelly just took the match, and Johnny Sykes looks like he can't believe it.
CHARISSA: If that moron had just socked it to those women in the first place, he might be the one having his hand raised.
Kelly quickly lets loose of the submission, falls to the mat, and rolls til she is safely outside the ring before looking back at the bewildered Johnny Sykes with a coy smile on her face. A-Ref slips out of the ring after her, and takes her by the wrist to raise her hand in victory, while she uses the other to wave at Sykes.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: The winner of this contest by submission, "THE PIXIE" ALEXANDRAAAA KELLYYYYY!!!
PHILO: Tough fought battle by all three participants, but that tumble at the end really put the nail in the coffin on Johnny Sykes.
CHARISSA: No, that fool not slapping the shit out of one of these Hoes is what put the kabash on it.
PHILO: And they say chivalry is dead.
CHARISSA: Fuck that. When management gives you the legal right to slap the taste outta bitches mouth, then you do it. Plain and simple.
PHILO: I'm pretty sure you just set feminism back a hundred years with that comment, but who am I to say. Up next, The Box Office with Cross Recoba, after these words from our sponsors.
The Box Office
Hosted by Cross Recoba
Contract Signing: GZW's William Saint
The announce team has disappeared for a brief intermission, and when the cameras shift over to the ring, there is a custom desk with the PAW Logo on the front, along with a comfortable looking chair positioned on one side of the squared circle. On the other side is a plush sofa, a few decorative potted plants, and a sign made up of hundreds of light bulbs that read 'The Box Office'. The lights dim in the arena as Joe Walsh's 'Turn to Stone' comes across the speakers, and the sign in the ring flashes to life, along with a montage on the screen above the ramp way of tickets being tacked off of a roll. The fans jeer and boo in disgust as they already know what to expect from the cocksure owner of the sign and song. The lights focus on the entrance to the ramp as Cross Recoba comes through the curtain, wearing a neatly pressed Armani suit, with a brown leather brief case in one hand, and a cane in the other. He brushes his shag haircut off his eyes and looks at the crowd, instinctively clutching the crucifix necklace that hangs from his neck. He walks to the ring with purpose, albeit slower because of the use of his cane, only looking away from the ring to answer hecklers in the crowd. He makes his way up the steps and onto the apron, and smiles at his disapproving audience before stepping through the ropes. He steps over to the desk and sets his briefcase down, grabbing up one of the three microphones sitting upon the surface. The lights remain dim everywhere else in the arena, except for directly over the ring where Cross Recoba prepares to address the PAW Universe.
CROSS RECOBA: What difference a few weeks can make, I tell you. After that last 'Box Office' I wasn't sure whether this was something I even wanted to do anymore, but the conclusion was all the motivation needed to keep this segment going. Press is a marked man, and it's only a matter of time before one of those men take that title from around his waist.
The fan's shower Recoba in boos, and he smugly smirks, shifting his weight so that he's now leaning solely on his cane.
CROSS RECOBA: Perhaps, just maybe, it will be tonight, when he has to defend his championship against Stevie Harris. I mean, hell, Stevie has all the tools needed to finish the job. I'm betting he's got his supporters in the stands here tonight, and everything will play out exactly how it should. But, I digress, that isn't why I'm out here. No, I have something that should make everyone here excited and on the edge of their seat.
Recoba steps over to the briefcase, pops the clasps, and removes a document, holding it up in his hand.
CROSS RECOBA: What I have here, is a PAW contract that is good for the next six months. The man who signs it will be met with what could arguably be the most lucrative deal thus far in PAW, and for good reason. My guest tonight is a former GZW2K1 Extreme Heavyweight Champion, and a three time W.C.E.K. Television Champion. He has performed on a national stage for most of his career in Global Zone Wrestling, and has a face that only a mother could love. Ladies and Gentleman, I introduce to you, 'The Mongrel' William Saint!
"The Dope Show" by Marilyn Manson blares through the P.A.W. loud system and the crowd reacts with an unsure mixed reaction. Dressed in jeans and an official Pure Amusement Wrestling t-shirt, William Saint steps out from behind the curtain, casting a gap toothed grin at the crowd as he makes his way to the ring. Once at ringside, he hops up onto the ring apron, and then throws his boot over the top rope, entering the ring where Recoba is awaiting him with an extra mic. Recoba hands Saint the microphone, and then slips around his desk to take a seat. Once seated, he indicates the comfy couch to Saint, and leans back, ready to begin the interview as the music fades out.
CROSS RECOBA: Welcome, Mr. Saint, to 'The Box Office'. Now do you prefer Mr. Saint, or Mongrel?
The former GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 Globalstar lowers his huge frame down on the couch and nods at the host.
WILLIAM SAINT: Thank you for having me, Mister Recoba. Please call me either William or Saint.
Cross nods, rolling his eyes, and setting the contract out in front of him.
CROSS RECOBA: Sure, thing, Mongrel. So what brings a nationally recognized wrestlers like yourself down to the bowels of Louisiana? I mean, certain GZW offers a much better paycheck than anything PAW could ever offer you, so I have to wonder, what's the motivation? It certainly couldn't be the scenery.
Cross holds his nose as the fans shower him in boo's.
WILLIAM SAINT: Again, it is either William or Saint. Mongrel was a name associated with my tenure in GZW2K1, Mister Recoba. Now that my time there has expired I no longer wish to attach myself to the trappings of he past.
CROSS RECOBA: Yeah, sure, whatever you say Mongrel....err....Mr. Saint. So about that first question. Gonna need you to focus here....at least with your one good eye, if that's possible.....Simply put, why are you here?
WILLIAM SAINT: Saint is fine, Mister Recoba. I had received word that Lady Munin and her roster of wrestlers were putting on quite the performance and happened to get my hands on some of the past Wicked DVDs. So as a true fan of the sport I originally came to Pure Amusement Wrestling simply as a normal spectator.
CROSS RECOBA: So you're telling me that you're a fan of PAW, and because of your love of the industry, that you want to join the ranks and get into active competition? For the love of the sport?
WILLIAM SAINT: As absurd as that sounds in this day and age, that is absolutely correct, Mister Recoba. First and foremost, before I ever stepped into a wrestling ring, I was a wrestling fan that loved the hell out of this SPORT, not INDUSTRY.
He shifts slightly on the couch.
WILLIAM SAINT: You see that is one of the pervasive issues that plague this sport. Too many are viewing it as merely a business; a Machine if you will, instead of seeing it as the art form that it truly was and still is.
CROSS RECOBA: Wow, you really are a rube aren't you! Since you've been paying attention to our little company, I'm sure you know the reason I've been relegated out here to be host of an on air variety show then, don't you, Mr. Saint? It's because when i got in the ring with that overgrown horses ass, Press, that he sent me out of the ring with a powerbomb that caused severe damage to my spine, rendering me no longer able to wrestle. If you call that a fucking art form, then I guess you'll fit right in with the rest of these neanderthals out here in the crowd. But as far as I go, this is a business, with rules and regulations, and as such, should be governed. But you're correct, Mr. Saint, if you were looking for a backwater company that is centered in the roots of pure savagery, pun not intended, then you've found it.
Recoba falls back in his seat, shaking his head indignantly, before noticing the paper sitting upon his desk. He leans back forwards, and places his hand on the document, looking over at Saint.
CROSS RECOBA: But let's forget all that, for now, and talk about the real reason why we're here. Sitting on my desk is a contract for a six month deal that, quite frankly, is worth more than what I'd personally pay for your services. But apparently Lady Munin see's the potential in having a national star on the roster, and so without further ado, why don't we get the business end out of the way before you address the PAW Universe.
Whether the giant was perturbed by the words of Cross Recoba it was hard to tell from Saint's scarred face. He simply brought the microphone back to his mouth.
WILLIAM SAINT: Yes, the real reason why I am here. A few weeks ago I met with Lady Munin and was offered the opportunity to participate here in Pure Amusement Wrestling. After much mulling over many offers from several other federations small and large, I have decided to sign here.
The Purity, Louisiana crowd give out another mixed reaction.
CROSS RECOBA: Then all that's left to do is dot the I's and cross the T's, as it were.
Cross removes an engraved gold pen from inside his jacket, and set the pen down on top of the contract. The crowd came to a hush in anticipation, awaiting the historic moment to see if it will actually happen uninterrupted.
WILLIAM SAINT: This is indeed my pleasure.
Saint picks up the gold pen and scribbles his name throughout the different pages of the contract.
CROSS RECOBA: Well there you have—
Suddenly “Remember the Name” by Fort Minor crashes through the P.A.W. sound system ushering in none other than GZW2K1’s “The Big Shot” John Champa. Gzw's former World Heavyweight Champion slowly makes his way through the crowd, dressed in a Black Suit and sporting sunglasses. The fans attempt to gather around him but he pushes them out of the way and begins to stare right up at Mongrel in the ring.
CROSS RECOBA:
Well, Mr. Saint, this is where I bid you farewell.
Recoba scoops up his briefcase, and slips between the ropes, while Saint continues to stare at Champa. John makes his way over the barrier as he snatches a mic away from one of the ring crew members before sliding into the ring.
JOHN CHAMPA: Nice to see you standing this time Mr. Saint. I mean you're all smiles because you've just signed a contract with P.A.W., thus becoming just like Munin and Cross, and betraying the company that made you. Ground Zero gave you a shot when no one else would, I gave you a shot to become a monster, I allowed you to become a star, and this is how you repay us? Me? We are in a war, and you're on the wrong side.
John walks right up to Saint, and removes the sunglasses to look him square in the eyes.
JOHN CHAMPA: Do you think these people give a damn about you? Do you think P.A.W. gives two shits about some overgrown fuck? Do you think they will save you from the grasp of John Champa?
The big man stands his ground, not breaking eye contact with the Big Shot.
WILLIAM SAINT: I believe we will chalk up your revisionist history concerning you making me into a monster as too many lumps upside the head throughout the years, Mister Champa.
There is a small splatter of laughter from the audience.
WILLIAM SAINT: Mister Champa, I know these people do not think fondly of me. I still have the aroma of GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 fresh upon me. I still am an unproven identity to my fellow roster members here in Pure Amusement Wrestling. And I also know that I do not need anyone to save me from your grasp. Four weeks ago you sucker punched me with brass knuckles. Four weeks later, trust me, you will not be afforded the same opportunity.
John chuckles as he removes his suit coat.
JOHN CHAMPA: Yea, you were always the big kid who just couldn't get shit right. I didn't sucker punch you, you turned your fucking back on me. Not just on me, but on Ground Zero Wrestling. You committed the ultimate sin, and tonight I didn't come out here to talk, I came out here to kick your fucking ass.
Saint takes a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of Champa, and removes his own suit coat.
WILLIAM SAINT: Then by all means, Mister Champa, commence to kicking!
VOICE: Not so fast, Johnny boy!
Joshua Dane stands up in the crowd, also wearing a suit, but with no tie. Both Saint and Champa stare out at him, as Dane walks down the aisles and motions for security to move.
JOSHUA DANE: Thank you.
Dane hops the barricade, and slides in the ring to stand next to Saint.
JOSHUA DANE: You didn't think I'd just let you come out here, and lay waste to Saint, now did you?
Dane pats Saint on the shoulder.
JOSHUA DANE: I have to admit it, you're pretty convincing, Billy Buddy.
Dane looks around the crowd, and flashes a smile.
JOSHUA DANE: That's right. Joshua Dane, The true and Chosen GZW Champion, is here! I pitched your cross promotional idea. Well really my idea. And everybody loved it. So here I am.
Dane nods at Saint, and extends a hand. Saint looks down at the last man Lady Munin wrestled as a GZW2K1 Globalstar and smiles.
WILLIAM SAINT: I'm glad you finally came to your senses, Mister Dane. Joining me, and many others that will soon be coming here to P.A.W. is the most prudent and wise decision in this juncture of our career.
Saint grabs Dane's hand in his own, and shakes it. Quick as a flash, Dane pulls Saint in and slips behind him, hooking both his arms, he nails his The Whip finisher on Saint. Dane doesn't hesitate and starts pummeling Saint in the back of his skull, yelling.
JOSHUA DANE: YOU DISGUST ME!
Champa joins in on the beating of William Saint, stomping away on his fallen body.
JOHN CHAMPA: I told you William, these people don't give a damn about you, these people won't save you from us. This is a war that you cannot, and will not win.
A barely conscious William Saint can do nothing but take the stomps all the while the crowd booing the actions of the GZW2K1 duo.
JOHN CHAMPA: What are you idiots gonna do? are you gonna send your heroes to certain defeat? Will your heroes even care about you, or this piece of shit? This is a revolution, this is a war...this is a goddamn TAKEOVER, and at the end of the day, just like right now, Ground Zero, the elite, will stand tall...head and shoulders above everyone else, and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it.
Dane laughs and reaches into his jacket pocket. He tosses a stack of signed photos of himself onto Saint's crumbled body.
JOSHUA DANE: You're welcome.
Dane and Champa, both looking pretty pleased with themselves, start to make their exit when the lights go completely out in the arena. The fans can be heard murmuring loudly, when a gravely voice cuts through the darkness.
VOICE: You have failed this company!
The mechanized voice echos around the arena as everyone in attendance searches for the source.
VOICE: Since day one many have operated within the confines of this company without having their actions called out. Men like Stevie Harris have been allowed to hang people, The Bombtrax have been allowed to put people through tables, and the list goes on. No one has stepped up to defend this company from the dangers within it. They have operated with impunity. Now threats are coming in from outside sources, and they too feel that they can operate without being dealt with. Those days end now. This is a warning to everyone on the roster. You will be held accountable. You choose to cross the line, you will be dealt with. I am the judge, jury and executioner of PAW, and my ruling is final.
Suddenly the lights pop back on and a lone figure appears at the top of the entrance ramp dressed in a sleeveless green Under Armour shirt, green tights and a green sleeveless hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head hiding his face. His attention is focused on the ring in front of him as the crowd looks on wondering who stands before them. Champa and Dane begin to run their mouths, but the figure doesn't move. Just as it looks like the two Gloabalsters might exit the ring to get a better look at this hooded man, the lights fade out and a loud boom is followed by a crack of lightning. When the lights come back on, the masked figure is gone, and Champa and Dane are left scratching their heads. The two men make their way to exit through the crowd, and the scene fades to commercial.
Munin turned a corner with an air of determination, and a slight smile on her lovely red lips. Tendrils of her long black hair fell around her face in small wisps, and streamed down her back. Despite all the typical shenanigans and excitement that come with the show everything was running smoothly. Munin was a bit paranoid that things were going too well, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Perhaps that was why she wasn't entirely shocked when she rounded the corner, and found her assistant leaning on the tall maniacal clown of PAW. Redrum was scratching his face furiously, while Ji appeared be getting a better look at the clown's chest. Even odder were the pink panties hanging out of Redrum's pocket.
JI: Why the hell am I helping your creepy ass again?
REDRUM: Because you fucking owe me for saving your skinny ass. Is the fucking rash spreading?
Ji rolled his eyes in derision before shaking his head.
JI: I would say we were even as you did kill my rug.
Redrum let out a string of explicitness that was very unbecoming for a clown.
REDRUM: What the fuck ever! Is it spreading or not?
JI: Not that I can see you fuc-
They both paused at the sound of a throat clearing. Ji stood back on his heels as they both caught sight of Lady Munin. Her hands resting on her hips with a look of resigned bewilderment on her lovely face.
LADY MUNIN: I honestly don't want to know what's going on, but you both have things to do. Ji go check on our guest, and Red go find a medic.
Satisfied that the situation was dealt with Munin moved along without another word. After a moment Ji began to scratch at his own hands, and let out an infuriated groan.
JI: I hate you.
CROSS RECOBA: What difference a few weeks can make, I tell you. After that last 'Box Office' I wasn't sure whether this was something I even wanted to do anymore, but the conclusion was all the motivation needed to keep this segment going. Press is a marked man, and it's only a matter of time before one of those men take that title from around his waist.
The fan's shower Recoba in boos, and he smugly smirks, shifting his weight so that he's now leaning solely on his cane.
CROSS RECOBA: Perhaps, just maybe, it will be tonight, when he has to defend his championship against Stevie Harris. I mean, hell, Stevie has all the tools needed to finish the job. I'm betting he's got his supporters in the stands here tonight, and everything will play out exactly how it should. But, I digress, that isn't why I'm out here. No, I have something that should make everyone here excited and on the edge of their seat.
Recoba steps over to the briefcase, pops the clasps, and removes a document, holding it up in his hand.
CROSS RECOBA: What I have here, is a PAW contract that is good for the next six months. The man who signs it will be met with what could arguably be the most lucrative deal thus far in PAW, and for good reason. My guest tonight is a former GZW2K1 Extreme Heavyweight Champion, and a three time W.C.E.K. Television Champion. He has performed on a national stage for most of his career in Global Zone Wrestling, and has a face that only a mother could love. Ladies and Gentleman, I introduce to you, 'The Mongrel' William Saint!
"The Dope Show" by Marilyn Manson blares through the P.A.W. loud system and the crowd reacts with an unsure mixed reaction. Dressed in jeans and an official Pure Amusement Wrestling t-shirt, William Saint steps out from behind the curtain, casting a gap toothed grin at the crowd as he makes his way to the ring. Once at ringside, he hops up onto the ring apron, and then throws his boot over the top rope, entering the ring where Recoba is awaiting him with an extra mic. Recoba hands Saint the microphone, and then slips around his desk to take a seat. Once seated, he indicates the comfy couch to Saint, and leans back, ready to begin the interview as the music fades out.
CROSS RECOBA: Welcome, Mr. Saint, to 'The Box Office'. Now do you prefer Mr. Saint, or Mongrel?
The former GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 Globalstar lowers his huge frame down on the couch and nods at the host.
WILLIAM SAINT: Thank you for having me, Mister Recoba. Please call me either William or Saint.
Cross nods, rolling his eyes, and setting the contract out in front of him.
CROSS RECOBA: Sure, thing, Mongrel. So what brings a nationally recognized wrestlers like yourself down to the bowels of Louisiana? I mean, certain GZW offers a much better paycheck than anything PAW could ever offer you, so I have to wonder, what's the motivation? It certainly couldn't be the scenery.
Cross holds his nose as the fans shower him in boo's.
WILLIAM SAINT: Again, it is either William or Saint. Mongrel was a name associated with my tenure in GZW2K1, Mister Recoba. Now that my time there has expired I no longer wish to attach myself to the trappings of he past.
CROSS RECOBA: Yeah, sure, whatever you say Mongrel....err....Mr. Saint. So about that first question. Gonna need you to focus here....at least with your one good eye, if that's possible.....Simply put, why are you here?
WILLIAM SAINT: Saint is fine, Mister Recoba. I had received word that Lady Munin and her roster of wrestlers were putting on quite the performance and happened to get my hands on some of the past Wicked DVDs. So as a true fan of the sport I originally came to Pure Amusement Wrestling simply as a normal spectator.
CROSS RECOBA: So you're telling me that you're a fan of PAW, and because of your love of the industry, that you want to join the ranks and get into active competition? For the love of the sport?
WILLIAM SAINT: As absurd as that sounds in this day and age, that is absolutely correct, Mister Recoba. First and foremost, before I ever stepped into a wrestling ring, I was a wrestling fan that loved the hell out of this SPORT, not INDUSTRY.
He shifts slightly on the couch.
WILLIAM SAINT: You see that is one of the pervasive issues that plague this sport. Too many are viewing it as merely a business; a Machine if you will, instead of seeing it as the art form that it truly was and still is.
CROSS RECOBA: Wow, you really are a rube aren't you! Since you've been paying attention to our little company, I'm sure you know the reason I've been relegated out here to be host of an on air variety show then, don't you, Mr. Saint? It's because when i got in the ring with that overgrown horses ass, Press, that he sent me out of the ring with a powerbomb that caused severe damage to my spine, rendering me no longer able to wrestle. If you call that a fucking art form, then I guess you'll fit right in with the rest of these neanderthals out here in the crowd. But as far as I go, this is a business, with rules and regulations, and as such, should be governed. But you're correct, Mr. Saint, if you were looking for a backwater company that is centered in the roots of pure savagery, pun not intended, then you've found it.
Recoba falls back in his seat, shaking his head indignantly, before noticing the paper sitting upon his desk. He leans back forwards, and places his hand on the document, looking over at Saint.
CROSS RECOBA: But let's forget all that, for now, and talk about the real reason why we're here. Sitting on my desk is a contract for a six month deal that, quite frankly, is worth more than what I'd personally pay for your services. But apparently Lady Munin see's the potential in having a national star on the roster, and so without further ado, why don't we get the business end out of the way before you address the PAW Universe.
Whether the giant was perturbed by the words of Cross Recoba it was hard to tell from Saint's scarred face. He simply brought the microphone back to his mouth.
WILLIAM SAINT: Yes, the real reason why I am here. A few weeks ago I met with Lady Munin and was offered the opportunity to participate here in Pure Amusement Wrestling. After much mulling over many offers from several other federations small and large, I have decided to sign here.
The Purity, Louisiana crowd give out another mixed reaction.
CROSS RECOBA: Then all that's left to do is dot the I's and cross the T's, as it were.
Cross removes an engraved gold pen from inside his jacket, and set the pen down on top of the contract. The crowd came to a hush in anticipation, awaiting the historic moment to see if it will actually happen uninterrupted.
WILLIAM SAINT: This is indeed my pleasure.
Saint picks up the gold pen and scribbles his name throughout the different pages of the contract.
CROSS RECOBA: Well there you have—
Suddenly “Remember the Name” by Fort Minor crashes through the P.A.W. sound system ushering in none other than GZW2K1’s “The Big Shot” John Champa. Gzw's former World Heavyweight Champion slowly makes his way through the crowd, dressed in a Black Suit and sporting sunglasses. The fans attempt to gather around him but he pushes them out of the way and begins to stare right up at Mongrel in the ring.
CROSS RECOBA:
Well, Mr. Saint, this is where I bid you farewell.
Recoba scoops up his briefcase, and slips between the ropes, while Saint continues to stare at Champa. John makes his way over the barrier as he snatches a mic away from one of the ring crew members before sliding into the ring.
JOHN CHAMPA: Nice to see you standing this time Mr. Saint. I mean you're all smiles because you've just signed a contract with P.A.W., thus becoming just like Munin and Cross, and betraying the company that made you. Ground Zero gave you a shot when no one else would, I gave you a shot to become a monster, I allowed you to become a star, and this is how you repay us? Me? We are in a war, and you're on the wrong side.
John walks right up to Saint, and removes the sunglasses to look him square in the eyes.
JOHN CHAMPA: Do you think these people give a damn about you? Do you think P.A.W. gives two shits about some overgrown fuck? Do you think they will save you from the grasp of John Champa?
The big man stands his ground, not breaking eye contact with the Big Shot.
WILLIAM SAINT: I believe we will chalk up your revisionist history concerning you making me into a monster as too many lumps upside the head throughout the years, Mister Champa.
There is a small splatter of laughter from the audience.
WILLIAM SAINT: Mister Champa, I know these people do not think fondly of me. I still have the aroma of GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 fresh upon me. I still am an unproven identity to my fellow roster members here in Pure Amusement Wrestling. And I also know that I do not need anyone to save me from your grasp. Four weeks ago you sucker punched me with brass knuckles. Four weeks later, trust me, you will not be afforded the same opportunity.
John chuckles as he removes his suit coat.
JOHN CHAMPA: Yea, you were always the big kid who just couldn't get shit right. I didn't sucker punch you, you turned your fucking back on me. Not just on me, but on Ground Zero Wrestling. You committed the ultimate sin, and tonight I didn't come out here to talk, I came out here to kick your fucking ass.
Saint takes a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of Champa, and removes his own suit coat.
WILLIAM SAINT: Then by all means, Mister Champa, commence to kicking!
VOICE: Not so fast, Johnny boy!
Joshua Dane stands up in the crowd, also wearing a suit, but with no tie. Both Saint and Champa stare out at him, as Dane walks down the aisles and motions for security to move.
JOSHUA DANE: Thank you.
Dane hops the barricade, and slides in the ring to stand next to Saint.
JOSHUA DANE: You didn't think I'd just let you come out here, and lay waste to Saint, now did you?
Dane pats Saint on the shoulder.
JOSHUA DANE: I have to admit it, you're pretty convincing, Billy Buddy.
Dane looks around the crowd, and flashes a smile.
JOSHUA DANE: That's right. Joshua Dane, The true and Chosen GZW Champion, is here! I pitched your cross promotional idea. Well really my idea. And everybody loved it. So here I am.
Dane nods at Saint, and extends a hand. Saint looks down at the last man Lady Munin wrestled as a GZW2K1 Globalstar and smiles.
WILLIAM SAINT: I'm glad you finally came to your senses, Mister Dane. Joining me, and many others that will soon be coming here to P.A.W. is the most prudent and wise decision in this juncture of our career.
Saint grabs Dane's hand in his own, and shakes it. Quick as a flash, Dane pulls Saint in and slips behind him, hooking both his arms, he nails his The Whip finisher on Saint. Dane doesn't hesitate and starts pummeling Saint in the back of his skull, yelling.
JOSHUA DANE: YOU DISGUST ME!
Champa joins in on the beating of William Saint, stomping away on his fallen body.
JOHN CHAMPA: I told you William, these people don't give a damn about you, these people won't save you from us. This is a war that you cannot, and will not win.
A barely conscious William Saint can do nothing but take the stomps all the while the crowd booing the actions of the GZW2K1 duo.
JOHN CHAMPA: What are you idiots gonna do? are you gonna send your heroes to certain defeat? Will your heroes even care about you, or this piece of shit? This is a revolution, this is a war...this is a goddamn TAKEOVER, and at the end of the day, just like right now, Ground Zero, the elite, will stand tall...head and shoulders above everyone else, and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it.
Dane laughs and reaches into his jacket pocket. He tosses a stack of signed photos of himself onto Saint's crumbled body.
JOSHUA DANE: You're welcome.
Dane and Champa, both looking pretty pleased with themselves, start to make their exit when the lights go completely out in the arena. The fans can be heard murmuring loudly, when a gravely voice cuts through the darkness.
VOICE: You have failed this company!
The mechanized voice echos around the arena as everyone in attendance searches for the source.
VOICE: Since day one many have operated within the confines of this company without having their actions called out. Men like Stevie Harris have been allowed to hang people, The Bombtrax have been allowed to put people through tables, and the list goes on. No one has stepped up to defend this company from the dangers within it. They have operated with impunity. Now threats are coming in from outside sources, and they too feel that they can operate without being dealt with. Those days end now. This is a warning to everyone on the roster. You will be held accountable. You choose to cross the line, you will be dealt with. I am the judge, jury and executioner of PAW, and my ruling is final.
Suddenly the lights pop back on and a lone figure appears at the top of the entrance ramp dressed in a sleeveless green Under Armour shirt, green tights and a green sleeveless hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head hiding his face. His attention is focused on the ring in front of him as the crowd looks on wondering who stands before them. Champa and Dane begin to run their mouths, but the figure doesn't move. Just as it looks like the two Gloabalsters might exit the ring to get a better look at this hooded man, the lights fade out and a loud boom is followed by a crack of lightning. When the lights come back on, the masked figure is gone, and Champa and Dane are left scratching their heads. The two men make their way to exit through the crowd, and the scene fades to commercial.
JI: Why the hell am I helping your creepy ass again?
REDRUM: Because you fucking owe me for saving your skinny ass. Is the fucking rash spreading?
Ji rolled his eyes in derision before shaking his head.
JI: I would say we were even as you did kill my rug.
Redrum let out a string of explicitness that was very unbecoming for a clown.
REDRUM: What the fuck ever! Is it spreading or not?
JI: Not that I can see you fuc-
They both paused at the sound of a throat clearing. Ji stood back on his heels as they both caught sight of Lady Munin. Her hands resting on her hips with a look of resigned bewilderment on her lovely face.
LADY MUNIN: I honestly don't want to know what's going on, but you both have things to do. Ji go check on our guest, and Red go find a medic.
Satisfied that the situation was dealt with Munin moved along without another word. After a moment Ji began to scratch at his own hands, and let out an infuriated groan.
JI: I hate you.
Singles Match
(Non Title)
Johnny Raike versus CJ O'Donnell
Gold, Guns and Girls by Metric hits the PA as Alex Blake makes his PAW debut! He walks down the ramp with his friend Dick Reynolds, both decked out in nice enough suits. They wave out to the fans as they look on confused, having heard the rumors that these two were banned from Pure Amusement Wrestling. They head to the announce booth which is oddly empty and take seats.
ALEX BLAKE: Ladies and gents at home, you’ve all heard the gossip backstage. We heard it all the way over in LA and thought that now was the perfect opportunity to get the band back together.
DICK REYNOLDS: I’d like to personally thank Lady Munin and the hard working staff here at Pure Entertainment Wrestling…
ALEX BLAKE: Amusement, Dick. Not Entertainment.
DICK REYNOLDS: How silly of me.
ALEX BLAKE: Pew pew pew.
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.
DICK REYNOLDS: Back in my day you’d just walk down the ramp and enter the ring.
ALEX BLAKE: Back in your day you’d sleep with hookers if you couldn’t find ring rats.
DICK REYNOLDS: Must still be my day then.
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.
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.
DICK REYNOLDS: I think that guy’s a beast. Not to be confused with Beast from X-Men.
As the singing starts for Pure Morning Johnny emerges from behind the curtain, sauntering, lost in the music, and often running his hands sensually over his own chest. His hands extend down to the Titan of the Midway Championship fasten tighly around his waist. On his way down to the ring, Johnny hands his card out to a young couple sitting ringside.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Coming to the ring, weighing in at two hundred pounds thanks to a five pound weight gain when he puts on the Titans of the Midway Championship belt, from Astoria, Queens, he is the TITAN OF THE MIDWAY. HE IS JOHNNNYYY RAAAIIIKKKEEEE
ALEX BLAKE: Johnny’s an interesting guy. We never crossed paths at the old company but I can honestly say that he was the guy I was most looking forward to facing before they closed the doors.
DICK REYNOLDS: The title isn’t on the line here tonight, CJ is of course the officially number one contender for the PAW Heavyweight Championship which is being contested later tonight however a win over Johnny Raike for him tonight would help cement his claim after the loss to Calvin Harris last week.
ALEX BLAKE: Too right. And on top of that, I know both these men would love nothing more than to be crowned the first duel champion in PAW history. If CJ is able to pick up the win, I can’t see them saying no to a Titan of the Midway Championship match request before or after his Heavyweight Championship match.
The bell rings as The-Ref calls for the action to begin. The two competitors circle each other, before CJ heads in first. He ducks under Raike’s arms and tries to take the back but Johnny pushes him back into the corner, grabs the arm and arm drags CJ out to the centre of the ring. Raike keeps a grip on the arm for positioning and drops a legdrop across the neck and upperbody of CJ. He rolls to his feet and CJ is quick to do the same, slapping Johnny disrespectfully across the face in doing so.
DICK REYNOLDS: I don’t know if that’s wise but good to see some attitude.
Johnny holds his precious face, stinging raw from the slap. He follows with one of his own, which is quickly backed up by a leaping knee strike to the ribs which pushes CJ into the ropes. He throws him across the ring with an Irish whip but the Irish man appears to be an expert at reversing Irish whips and hangs on, throwing Johnny into the ropes instead. Raike comes back fast and slides under O’Donnell’s legs and pops up behind with the lung blower! CJ stumbles forward and his arms get straight jacketed from behind, as Johnny tries to lock in Le Petite Mort (Straight jacket choke/Dragon sleeper hybrid) for the early finish. He starts to bring CJ back but O’Donnell fires a knee that connects with the forehead of Raike. Johnny doesn’t want to release but another knee strikes his head that forces him to let go of the hold.
ALEX BLAKE: A man as pretty as Johnny Raike, you always have to wonder due to pain or if he’s trying to not get a bruise on the cheek.
CJ fires up with an enziguri which misses it’s mark, Raike ducks under keeping hold of the leg. He grabs the other and brings CJ in for a wheelbarrow suplex, gyrating his hips before executing the move.
DICK REYNOLDS: Uncalled for Johnny.
Raike’s back up and runs to the turnbuckle, leaping to the second rope where he perches himself and watches on as CJ is rolling to his feet. CJ turns and sees Raike leap off the turnbuckle, diving European uppercut in mind and move quickly, reversing the attack into an arm bar attempt. He has Johnny on the ground, trying to force the struggling man’s right arm into a straight position. Johnny fights it as best he can and just as CJ looks to have it primed for the arm bar, Raike pushes up and rolls forward, twisting his way out of O’Donnell’s grip. Raike turns and is met by a hard kick to the chest. CJ fires off another two to the chest and follows up with a vicious roundhouse that sends Johnny stumbling across the ring.
Stumbling into the corner, Johnny turns just in time to see CJ running in with the Irish Knowledge, a running high knee strike which connects with force!
ALEX BLAKE: OUCH! This one’s over as the Irishman drags Johnny away from the ropes for a cover.
1...
2...
Kickout! He’s not down yet! The Titan of the Midway kicks out at two much to CJ’s dismay. O’Donnell complains about a slow count to Ref but turns his attention back to Johnny when he sees him starting to stir.
DICK REYNOLDS: Stay on him CJ!
CJ grabs Raike as he begins to sit up, putting him in a seated rear naked choke variation. Johnny’s been trying how to reverse out of sleeper holds it seems as he slips out of the move nearly as soon as it’s put on. CJ tries for it again, this time trying to drag Johnny up to his feet with the choke applied but as soon as Raike’s on his feet he’s firing off an elbow to the midsection. Raike is able to position himself to lift CJ up and bring him back down with an atomic drop to break the hold. O’Donnell bounces into the air and it immediately caught in a fierce tiger suplex!
ALEX BLAKE: Amazing! Most men would have used a backdrop to get out of that but not Johnny Raike. I don’t envy his opponents, how do you scout against a man who has an ever evolving game plan?
Johnny pulls CJ up by his hair, butterflying his arms in a double underhook. He yells something out to the fans who begin a “Wet Dream” chant. With CJ in place, he pulls him up for a double underhook back breaker, crushing the spine of CJ O’Donnell. He quickly places a knee into CJ’s back, grabbing a leg and the neck, pulling back in a modified bow and arrow. CJ screams in pain as Johnny pulls back far enough that he’s lifted CJ up high. Ref’s on the ball and spots Johnny’s shoulders are down, leaping in for the cover. He gets to one and Johnny readjusts his left shoulder so it’s off the canvas. Ref asks CJ if he’s ready to give up but The Distinguished still has something in the tank. Ref looks down and notices Raike’s shoulders are both down again and leaps down for another one count. Raike repositions his shoulders again, this time CJ takes advantage and is able to slip out of the bow and arrow, rolling to the side and landing on top of his opponent in a pinning predicament. Ref drops down and only gets to one again!
DICK REYNOLDS: A-Ref’s getting a workout tonight- CJ’s going for the kimura!
While laying on top of Johnny, CJ grabs him arm and tries to lock in the kimura. He releases to land some elbows to Johnny’s head before trying to lock it in again. Johnny fights with knees to CJ’s midsection that soften his resolve. CJ catches one of the knees and tries to use it to turn Johnny over into a single leg crab. O’Donnel stands tall with the move fully locked in place! Johnny fights towards the ropes but he can’t make it. Ref slides to the ground and starts asking him if he’s done but Johnny defiantly yells out no. He keeps fighting for the ropes but CJ brings him closer to the middle. Johnny won’t stop fighting for the ropes and with a burst of energy, he’s able to reach the bottom rope closest to him!
CJ’s reluctant to release the hold but does so and heads to the furthest corner, holding his lower back as he waits for Johnny. He watches as Raike pulls himself up slowly. Once Johnny’s in the process of turning, CJ runs in for the Irish Knowledge knee strike again, this telegraphed by a Pele kick! The kick leads CJ to stumble around the ring, allowing Raike to land one of his kicks to the back. He follows it up with another lung blower and as CJ bounces forward, the Thigh High Thriller is quick to spin him around, boot him in the stomach, and nail him with his patented small package driver.
ALEX BLAKE: I'm pretty sure he calls that one The Full Frontal!
DICK REYNOLDS: I tell you what CJ O'Donnell can call it. Done!
Johnny remains in position to set up for a cover, while A-Ref drops to the mat.
1...
2...
3!!!
A-Ref calls for the bell as CJ begins to tap from the enormous pressure!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Your winner by pinfall, the TITAN of the MIDWAY CHAMPION, JOHNNY RAIKE!!
DICK REYNOLDS: What a match! I thought CJ had it but I guess you were on the money with Johnny Raike.
ALEX BLAKE: The man is a force who has just taken out the number one contender to Press’s Heavyweight Championship. You gotta think no one can stop him on his path to that championship.
DICK REYNOLDS: Did you not watch the older PAW tapes?
ALEX BLAKE: No, why?
DICK REYNOLDS: Nevermind… Anyway that’s it for us here in the commentary booth tonight, the other two clowns will be here for the main event. Make sure you tweet your support with the hashtag #AlexDick and keep an eye out for me around town as I’m in negotiations to purchase one of Purity’s hottest clubs.
With that, Blake and Reynolds hop up from the announce booth to much fanfare, and begin making their way to the back as the scene cuts to backstage.
ALEX BLAKE: Ladies and gents at home, you’ve all heard the gossip backstage. We heard it all the way over in LA and thought that now was the perfect opportunity to get the band back together.
DICK REYNOLDS: I’d like to personally thank Lady Munin and the hard working staff here at Pure Entertainment Wrestling…
ALEX BLAKE: Amusement, Dick. Not Entertainment.
DICK REYNOLDS: How silly of me.
ALEX BLAKE: Pew pew pew.
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.
DICK REYNOLDS: Back in my day you’d just walk down the ramp and enter the ring.
ALEX BLAKE: Back in your day you’d sleep with hookers if you couldn’t find ring rats.
DICK REYNOLDS: Must still be my day then.
I'ma motherfucking beast
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
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!
As the singing starts for Pure Morning Johnny emerges from behind the curtain, sauntering, lost in the music, and often running his hands sensually over his own chest. His hands extend down to the Titan of the Midway Championship fasten tighly around his waist. On his way down to the ring, Johnny hands his card out to a young couple sitting ringside.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Coming to the ring, weighing in at two hundred pounds thanks to a five pound weight gain when he puts on the Titans of the Midway Championship belt, from Astoria, Queens, he is the TITAN OF THE MIDWAY. HE IS JOHNNNYYY RAAAIIIKKKEEEE
ALEX BLAKE: Johnny’s an interesting guy. We never crossed paths at the old company but I can honestly say that he was the guy I was most looking forward to facing before they closed the doors.
DICK REYNOLDS: The title isn’t on the line here tonight, CJ is of course the officially number one contender for the PAW Heavyweight Championship which is being contested later tonight however a win over Johnny Raike for him tonight would help cement his claim after the loss to Calvin Harris last week.
ALEX BLAKE: Too right. And on top of that, I know both these men would love nothing more than to be crowned the first duel champion in PAW history. If CJ is able to pick up the win, I can’t see them saying no to a Titan of the Midway Championship match request before or after his Heavyweight Championship match.
The bell rings as The-Ref calls for the action to begin. The two competitors circle each other, before CJ heads in first. He ducks under Raike’s arms and tries to take the back but Johnny pushes him back into the corner, grabs the arm and arm drags CJ out to the centre of the ring. Raike keeps a grip on the arm for positioning and drops a legdrop across the neck and upperbody of CJ. He rolls to his feet and CJ is quick to do the same, slapping Johnny disrespectfully across the face in doing so.
DICK REYNOLDS: I don’t know if that’s wise but good to see some attitude.
Johnny holds his precious face, stinging raw from the slap. He follows with one of his own, which is quickly backed up by a leaping knee strike to the ribs which pushes CJ into the ropes. He throws him across the ring with an Irish whip but the Irish man appears to be an expert at reversing Irish whips and hangs on, throwing Johnny into the ropes instead. Raike comes back fast and slides under O’Donnell’s legs and pops up behind with the lung blower! CJ stumbles forward and his arms get straight jacketed from behind, as Johnny tries to lock in Le Petite Mort (Straight jacket choke/Dragon sleeper hybrid) for the early finish. He starts to bring CJ back but O’Donnell fires a knee that connects with the forehead of Raike. Johnny doesn’t want to release but another knee strikes his head that forces him to let go of the hold.
ALEX BLAKE: A man as pretty as Johnny Raike, you always have to wonder due to pain or if he’s trying to not get a bruise on the cheek.
CJ fires up with an enziguri which misses it’s mark, Raike ducks under keeping hold of the leg. He grabs the other and brings CJ in for a wheelbarrow suplex, gyrating his hips before executing the move.
DICK REYNOLDS: Uncalled for Johnny.
Raike’s back up and runs to the turnbuckle, leaping to the second rope where he perches himself and watches on as CJ is rolling to his feet. CJ turns and sees Raike leap off the turnbuckle, diving European uppercut in mind and move quickly, reversing the attack into an arm bar attempt. He has Johnny on the ground, trying to force the struggling man’s right arm into a straight position. Johnny fights it as best he can and just as CJ looks to have it primed for the arm bar, Raike pushes up and rolls forward, twisting his way out of O’Donnell’s grip. Raike turns and is met by a hard kick to the chest. CJ fires off another two to the chest and follows up with a vicious roundhouse that sends Johnny stumbling across the ring.
Stumbling into the corner, Johnny turns just in time to see CJ running in with the Irish Knowledge, a running high knee strike which connects with force!
ALEX BLAKE: OUCH! This one’s over as the Irishman drags Johnny away from the ropes for a cover.
1...
2...
Kickout! He’s not down yet! The Titan of the Midway kicks out at two much to CJ’s dismay. O’Donnell complains about a slow count to Ref but turns his attention back to Johnny when he sees him starting to stir.
DICK REYNOLDS: Stay on him CJ!
CJ grabs Raike as he begins to sit up, putting him in a seated rear naked choke variation. Johnny’s been trying how to reverse out of sleeper holds it seems as he slips out of the move nearly as soon as it’s put on. CJ tries for it again, this time trying to drag Johnny up to his feet with the choke applied but as soon as Raike’s on his feet he’s firing off an elbow to the midsection. Raike is able to position himself to lift CJ up and bring him back down with an atomic drop to break the hold. O’Donnell bounces into the air and it immediately caught in a fierce tiger suplex!
ALEX BLAKE: Amazing! Most men would have used a backdrop to get out of that but not Johnny Raike. I don’t envy his opponents, how do you scout against a man who has an ever evolving game plan?
Johnny pulls CJ up by his hair, butterflying his arms in a double underhook. He yells something out to the fans who begin a “Wet Dream” chant. With CJ in place, he pulls him up for a double underhook back breaker, crushing the spine of CJ O’Donnell. He quickly places a knee into CJ’s back, grabbing a leg and the neck, pulling back in a modified bow and arrow. CJ screams in pain as Johnny pulls back far enough that he’s lifted CJ up high. Ref’s on the ball and spots Johnny’s shoulders are down, leaping in for the cover. He gets to one and Johnny readjusts his left shoulder so it’s off the canvas. Ref asks CJ if he’s ready to give up but The Distinguished still has something in the tank. Ref looks down and notices Raike’s shoulders are both down again and leaps down for another one count. Raike repositions his shoulders again, this time CJ takes advantage and is able to slip out of the bow and arrow, rolling to the side and landing on top of his opponent in a pinning predicament. Ref drops down and only gets to one again!
DICK REYNOLDS: A-Ref’s getting a workout tonight- CJ’s going for the kimura!
While laying on top of Johnny, CJ grabs him arm and tries to lock in the kimura. He releases to land some elbows to Johnny’s head before trying to lock it in again. Johnny fights with knees to CJ’s midsection that soften his resolve. CJ catches one of the knees and tries to use it to turn Johnny over into a single leg crab. O’Donnel stands tall with the move fully locked in place! Johnny fights towards the ropes but he can’t make it. Ref slides to the ground and starts asking him if he’s done but Johnny defiantly yells out no. He keeps fighting for the ropes but CJ brings him closer to the middle. Johnny won’t stop fighting for the ropes and with a burst of energy, he’s able to reach the bottom rope closest to him!
CJ’s reluctant to release the hold but does so and heads to the furthest corner, holding his lower back as he waits for Johnny. He watches as Raike pulls himself up slowly. Once Johnny’s in the process of turning, CJ runs in for the Irish Knowledge knee strike again, this telegraphed by a Pele kick! The kick leads CJ to stumble around the ring, allowing Raike to land one of his kicks to the back. He follows it up with another lung blower and as CJ bounces forward, the Thigh High Thriller is quick to spin him around, boot him in the stomach, and nail him with his patented small package driver.
ALEX BLAKE: I'm pretty sure he calls that one The Full Frontal!
DICK REYNOLDS: I tell you what CJ O'Donnell can call it. Done!
Johnny remains in position to set up for a cover, while A-Ref drops to the mat.
1...
2...
3!!!
A-Ref calls for the bell as CJ begins to tap from the enormous pressure!
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Your winner by pinfall, the TITAN of the MIDWAY CHAMPION, JOHNNY RAIKE!!
DICK REYNOLDS: What a match! I thought CJ had it but I guess you were on the money with Johnny Raike.
ALEX BLAKE: The man is a force who has just taken out the number one contender to Press’s Heavyweight Championship. You gotta think no one can stop him on his path to that championship.
DICK REYNOLDS: Did you not watch the older PAW tapes?
ALEX BLAKE: No, why?
DICK REYNOLDS: Nevermind… Anyway that’s it for us here in the commentary booth tonight, the other two clowns will be here for the main event. Make sure you tweet your support with the hashtag #AlexDick and keep an eye out for me around town as I’m in negotiations to purchase one of Purity’s hottest clubs.
With that, Blake and Reynolds hop up from the announce booth to much fanfare, and begin making their way to the back as the scene cuts to backstage.
As the camera moves down the hallway, it finally comes to rest on the PAW Heavyweight Champion, Press, and his tag-partner, Flaming Youth, The BombTrax. Both men have a serious look about them as they proceed down the hall towards the gorilla position, where Press is about to make his entrance for the fight of his life. As they pass a few doors, Youth looks over to the side, and notices a nameplate on one of the dressing rooms. He comes to a dead stop as Press continues on. The big man pauses to look back, and raises his eyebrow in question.
PRESS: What is it?
YOUTH: Nothing man. Listen, you have a good match. I have to handle something real quick, but I'll be keeping a close watch on the monitor.
Press cocks his head to the side uncertainly, but then shrugs, nodding in agreement.
PRESS: Alright, bro. Do what you have to do.
He smirks as he turns back towards the way he was going, and resumes his walk towards his destiny. Youth, on the other hand, continues to stare at the nameplate, and the camera swings around to where it's now at an angle over his shoulder, staring at the same thing. The nameplate reads 'CJ O'Donnell'.
Youth strokes his chin for a minute, a sour expression coming over his face, before reaching for the door handle, and ripping it open. He darts into the room with the camera in tow, but there's no one in there. Sounds can be heard from in the shower area, and Youth steps over to peak into the bathroom. He turns back to the camera, and makes a motion with his hand for them to back up into the corner, while he grabs up a folding chair, and closes it. He then leans into the space between the lockers and the bathroom doorway, and waits.
After a few moments, the shower stops, and CJ O'Donnell appears in the doorway wrapped in a towel, pausing to examine his bruises in the mirror from the match he had just competed in with Johnny Raike. He shakes his head, and turns to step back into the dressing area, when he comes to a dead stop after noticing the camera pointed right at him. Anger stretches over his face, as he steps further into the room.
CJ O'DONNELL: What the fu....
The words are cut off by the slamming of steel against bare flesh, and O'Donnell is sent lurching forward to sprawl out across the tile floor. He rolls over onto his back in an attempt to shield himself, but Youth brings the steel chair's top end down into his rib cage, causing CJ to curl up into a fetal position. Youth then repositions himself and the chair, and proceeds to wear the #1 Contender out with the make-do weapon. When CJ is no longer putting up any fight, Youth finally relents, tossing the bent and broken chair down beside the Irishman.
YOUTH: I know what you're thinking. This is about the fact that you're next in line to my partner's championship. Hell, he might not even be champion after tonight, but that scenario's unlikely.
Youth takes the toe of his boot, and shoves O'Donnell over onto his back.
YOUTH: No, this doesn't have anything to do with him. This has to do with me, and you. You cost me a month from the profession I love. The only thing I've ever been good at, and that just doesn't stand with me. I was called before the Louisiana State Sporting Commission to testify to that running knee of yours, and you know what I told them? It was a fair and legal move, and shouldn't be banned from the state.
Youth grins, squatting down so that he can be certain he's being heard.
YOUTH: You see, CJ, I testified favorably on your behalf, because if anyone is going to take that move away from you, it's going to be me. Hey, what do you know, I'm doing a public service to the community without even knowing it. I'm giving an 'Unstable' man a little stability.
Youth winks in CJ's direction, before getting to his feet, and walking off camera. O'Donnell watches him go with baleful eyes, before gripping at his injured rib cage in pain as the scene cuts back to ringside.
PRESS: What is it?
YOUTH: Nothing man. Listen, you have a good match. I have to handle something real quick, but I'll be keeping a close watch on the monitor.
Press cocks his head to the side uncertainly, but then shrugs, nodding in agreement.
PRESS: Alright, bro. Do what you have to do.
He smirks as he turns back towards the way he was going, and resumes his walk towards his destiny. Youth, on the other hand, continues to stare at the nameplate, and the camera swings around to where it's now at an angle over his shoulder, staring at the same thing. The nameplate reads 'CJ O'Donnell'.
Youth strokes his chin for a minute, a sour expression coming over his face, before reaching for the door handle, and ripping it open. He darts into the room with the camera in tow, but there's no one in there. Sounds can be heard from in the shower area, and Youth steps over to peak into the bathroom. He turns back to the camera, and makes a motion with his hand for them to back up into the corner, while he grabs up a folding chair, and closes it. He then leans into the space between the lockers and the bathroom doorway, and waits.
After a few moments, the shower stops, and CJ O'Donnell appears in the doorway wrapped in a towel, pausing to examine his bruises in the mirror from the match he had just competed in with Johnny Raike. He shakes his head, and turns to step back into the dressing area, when he comes to a dead stop after noticing the camera pointed right at him. Anger stretches over his face, as he steps further into the room.
CJ O'DONNELL: What the fu....
The words are cut off by the slamming of steel against bare flesh, and O'Donnell is sent lurching forward to sprawl out across the tile floor. He rolls over onto his back in an attempt to shield himself, but Youth brings the steel chair's top end down into his rib cage, causing CJ to curl up into a fetal position. Youth then repositions himself and the chair, and proceeds to wear the #1 Contender out with the make-do weapon. When CJ is no longer putting up any fight, Youth finally relents, tossing the bent and broken chair down beside the Irishman.
YOUTH: I know what you're thinking. This is about the fact that you're next in line to my partner's championship. Hell, he might not even be champion after tonight, but that scenario's unlikely.
Youth takes the toe of his boot, and shoves O'Donnell over onto his back.
YOUTH: No, this doesn't have anything to do with him. This has to do with me, and you. You cost me a month from the profession I love. The only thing I've ever been good at, and that just doesn't stand with me. I was called before the Louisiana State Sporting Commission to testify to that running knee of yours, and you know what I told them? It was a fair and legal move, and shouldn't be banned from the state.
Youth grins, squatting down so that he can be certain he's being heard.
YOUTH: You see, CJ, I testified favorably on your behalf, because if anyone is going to take that move away from you, it's going to be me. Hey, what do you know, I'm doing a public service to the community without even knowing it. I'm giving an 'Unstable' man a little stability.
Youth winks in CJ's direction, before getting to his feet, and walking off camera. O'Donnell watches him go with baleful eyes, before gripping at his injured rib cage in pain as the scene cuts back to ringside.
{Main Event}
Grudge Match
-PAW CHAMPIONSHIP-
Stevie Harris versus Press(c)
PHILO: Wow, Flaming Youth just sent a pretty clear message to CJ O'Donnell that those two have some unfinished business.
CHARISSA: It comes at an opportune time, don't you think?
PHILO: Sure, Press is the champion and O'Donnell's the #1 contender, but like Youth pointed out, that could all change tonight.
CHARISSA: Correction! It will change tonight!
PHILO: Well folks, this is what we've all been waiting for. It's been one hell of a show, and the anticipation has been worth the wait, but now it's time!
CHARISSA: Time for Stevie Harris to finally make his claim to the throne, and wrest that Heavyweight Championship from that fool Press.
PHILO: Charissa, you might be right, but on the other hand, we have a champion who is determined to shut down any of the nay-sayers, and ensure that after tonight there will be no doubt on who it is that is the TRUE PAW Champion.
CHARISSA: Whatever you say, Philo. Stevie All The Way is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
PHILO: Christ! Somebody get Alex Blake back out here so I can try and get some unbiased commentary. Rhonda, by all means, take it away.
CHARISSA: It comes at an opportune time, don't you think?
PHILO: Sure, Press is the champion and O'Donnell's the #1 contender, but like Youth pointed out, that could all change tonight.
CHARISSA: Correction! It will change tonight!
PHILO: Well folks, this is what we've all been waiting for. It's been one hell of a show, and the anticipation has been worth the wait, but now it's time!
CHARISSA: Time for Stevie Harris to finally make his claim to the throne, and wrest that Heavyweight Championship from that fool Press.
PHILO: Charissa, you might be right, but on the other hand, we have a champion who is determined to shut down any of the nay-sayers, and ensure that after tonight there will be no doubt on who it is that is the TRUE PAW Champion.
CHARISSA: Whatever you say, Philo. Stevie All The Way is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
PHILO: Christ! Somebody get Alex Blake back out here so I can try and get some unbiased commentary. Rhonda, by all means, take it away.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Main Event of the evening, and it is for the Pure Amusement Wrestling Heavyweight Championship!
The crowd instantly begins to buzz, when 'The Riverbed' by Gallows blasts out over the speakers. The beat really begins to kick in when Stevie Harris steps through, a scornful expression on his face to accompany the wooden crutches under his arms. The fans already begin booing at the sight of the crutches, and he scowls before slowly making his way down to the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, the challenger, standing at six foot two, and at a weight of 230 pounds. He hails from St. Louis, Missouri, and is the enigmatic leader of the I'm With Stevie Movement. This is STEVIE HARRIS!!!
Stevie continues to make his way down to the ring, eyeing as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. A few BombTrax fans stand up holding signs, and he spits in their direction, jawing back and forth before finally shuffling along. When he finally reaches the ring, he tosses his crutches in, and rolls under the bottom rope. He pops back upright, grabbing his crutches, and leans heavily against them shaking his head at the crowd.
PHILO: I have it on good authority that Stevie Harris is cleared to wrestle here tonight! What the hell is the meaning of this?
CHARISSA: Obviously he's still injured after that train wreck of a match at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show, where that overgrown Yeti maliciously tried to hurt Stevie on purpose, and furthermore, stole the championship!
PHILO: We must have been watching two different matches, cause that's now how I recall it at all.
Before any more debate can be had, the opening chords to 'Strangle Hold' by Ted Nugent pumps through the PA, and red strobe-lights begin to flicker all around the ring and ramp way, finally settling on the entry way where the silhouette of the massive Press can be seen standing in the curtain. Words flash up on the big screen above the stage, as the crowd continues to buzz in anticipation.
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. The PAW Heavyweight Championship rests comfortably around his waist, as he scans the crowd. He raises one black gloved fist into the air, and the fans make the place go deafening.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And introducing his opponent, he stands at six foot eleven, and weights in at 365 pounds. Hailing from right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, he is one-half of The BombTrax, and the current PAW Heavyweight Champion! THIS IS PRESS!!!
Press drops his fist to his side, confidently making his way down to the ring. When he reaches the end of the ramp, he 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, staring straight ahead at Stevie Harris, who's eyes never left him once for an instant.
PHILO: Man-O-Man, can you feel the tension in this building? It's about to reach a fever pitch in the crowd, and it's going to explode!
CHARISSA: It's pretty obvious by this stare down between these two, that they DO NOT like each other. I just hope Stevie isn't robbed of this opportunity because of his injuries.
A-Ref steps over to Harris, who finally turns his gaze away from Press so that he can berate the official. He points at his leg and the crutches, and shakes his head 'No'. A-Ref throws his hands out at his sides, and continues with his questions, until Stevie finally calls for a mic.
PHILO: Looks like Stevie's going to explain this situation.
CHARISSA: DON'T WORRY, STEVIE, WE'RE WITH YOU!!
PHILO: Jesus, pipe down! You're supposed to be impartial.
As Philo tries to reign Charissa in, Stevie takes a microphone from one of the Tech's at ringside, and hobbles out to the center of the ring. Press has not moved, still staring daggers into the skeletal man. Stevie regards Press with a disgusted expression, and then holds the mic up to his face.
STEVIE HARRIS: Is this not what you wanted, big man?
Stevie indicates his busted leg with his hand, and the crowd boo's at the implication. Press just smirks, and twirls his finger in the air for Stevie to get on with it. After a few more seconds of staring, Stevie raises the mic once again.
STEVIE HARRIS: Well, I hope you're happy with yourself, Press Jones. You got all these people riled up for a return championship match, one of the most anticipated matches in our companies short history, knowing full well that I wouldn't be ready to compete. YOU!
Stevie points his finger in Press direction, a snarl coming to his lips.
STEVIE HARRIS: You did that, pulling the strings of your pet, Moo-Nin, so that you could avoid having to face me at my best. No, no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Cause you know, deep down in your heart, that you don't have what it takes to come out here and take me on when I'm at one hundred percent. Not if you want to remain champion, you pretender God.
Press bristles at the disrespect shown to Munin, and comes out of the corner for the first time, his smirk erasing to one far more dangerous. Stevie holds up a crutch, eyes burning dark as coal.
STEVIE HARRIS: That's right. Show these people what you're made of. Bang those powerful fists off the cripples skull, and prove to them what a big man you really are.
Press pauses, his face flushing red with fury, and he shakes his head as he turns around to face the corner, staring out at the crowd to keep from doing something he might regret. Stevie Harris' grin could light up a highway at midnight as he watches the champion make this mistake. He abandons one of the crutches, chokes up on the other, and rushes across the ring to nail the big man. The crutch hits with such force that it splinters apart, wooden shards flying in a million directions, and Press is sent torpedoing over the ropes to crash land on the concrete floor.
PHILO: THERE WASN'T A DAMN THING WRONG WITH STEVIE HARRIS! I KNEW IT!
CHARISSA: Get him Stevie!
A-Ref tries to berate Stevie, but the official is completely ignored as Harris bails out of the ring after the champion. He reaches down, unsnapping the straps holding the belt around Press' waist, and yanks it out from under him. The crowd's boos intensify, and Harris casts the arena another grin, holding the belt up over his head. Press slowly begins to make his way into a push up position, when Stevie folds up the belt, and then brings it crashing down onto the back of Press' skull. He remains on his knee's beside his fallen victim, bringing the belt up, and then back down again, again, and again until finally the face plate is covered in blood.
PHILO: This sadistic son of a bitch has to be stopped!
CHARISSA: Technically the match hasn't even started, Philo! There's nothing anyone can do.
Harris reaches down and gouges his thumbs into the open wound on the back of Press' head, and then reaches up and slaps his body with the bloody imprint, covering himself with the blood of his enemy like warpaint. The crowd's boos grow louder, except for the straggling I'm With Stevie supporters.
PHILO: This guy is sick!
CHARISSA: Ok, ok...lathering up in another person's blood might be taking it a tad far.
PHILO: A TAD! You have got to be kidding me.
Stevie stands now, staring down at Press with what almost appears to be a euphoric smile, before grabbing the big man under the arms, and heaving with everything he has. Harris struggles to drag Press over to the steel steps, and grunting in discomfort, hoists the dead weight up into a seated position on the top step. He then takes Press by the arm, lowers his head, and pulls the big man up onto his shoulders in an epic show of strength. Knee's buckling, he carries the champion, fireman style, over to the edge of the ring, and dumps him down onto the ring apron and beneath the bottom rope into the ring. Stevie swiftly slides in and rolls Press to the center of the ring. He comes up to his knee's and points for A-Ref to call for the bell.
PHILO: Come on? Don't do it A-Ref!
CHARISSA: I don't think Stevie's going to leave him much of a choice.
A-Ref hesitates, shaking his head in disbelief, when Stevie Harris pops up to his feet, and snarls at the official to ring the bell. A-Ref backs up into the corner, but quickly points to the time keeper who chimes the official start of the match. Stevie steps back over to Press, who hasn't moved, and drops down with a lazy cover.
PHILO: This is nothing short of highway robbery.
A-Ref moves into position, and reluctantly lifts his arm in the air to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...At the last possible second Press' shoulder rolls up off the mat, sending the capacity crowd into a frenzy, and Stevie Harris into shock. The surprised expression doesn't last long as it turns to that of a wild man, as Stevie hops up to his feet, and chases A-Ref clear out of the ring. He thrusts his fists up into his hairline, shaking his head 'No' as he slowly turns back to face Press, who has returned to a prone position. With a growl, Stevie dives onto the big man, sitting down right beside him, cradling his head, and then driving in bare knuckled fists repeatedly in the man's face.
PHILO: Stevie Harris has fucking lost it, and is beating the holy hell out of a semi-conscious PAW Champion!
CHARISSA: Well, let's not act like this is a surprise. Anyone who didn't see this coming is blind. Stevie Harris has made claim to this throne, and he's going to take it by force.
PHILO: Does that mean throwing every rule out the window? Intimidating officials? Faking injuries?
CHARISSA: By whatever means necessary, Philo.
PHILO: This isn't south Harlem, and Stevie Harris is no Malcolm X. No matter how much you crazies who have joined his movement might think he is!
Harris finally relents with his piston like rights, and he sits beside Press, who is now busted open across his forehead as well. Stevie shakes his head, and then lays his body across the champion, exhausted from the repeated activity. A-Ref drops to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...Again, at the last possible nano-second, Press rolls the shoulder up. Stevie doesn't even bother with berating A-Ref this time, as he immediately moves back into a seated position. His movement is jerky, like someone who is irritated beyond belief, as he grabs Press by a fistful of hair, and slips himself into position to apply his patented sleeper hold. Once locked in, he burns holes in A-Ref to keep vigilant watch on Press.
PHILO: Well, folks, this one's all but over now. Stevie Harris has The Gallows locked in, and poor Press hasn't even had a chance to get up off the mat. He's bleeding from both the front, and back side of his head, and even if he somehow manages to keep his fist in the air, I think A-Ref should just call it.
CHARISSA: I agree, Philo. Damage has been done. Just go ahead and call the match, and award Stevie Harris the PAW Heavyweight Championship!
Philo shakes his head in disgust, while back in the ring, A-Ref hovers over Press asking the incoherent man if he want's to give it up. After not receiving any verbal answer, A-Ref takes Press by the wrist, and lifts the big man's arm into the air. When he releases his hold, the arm limply falls to the mat.
1...
A-Ref repeats the process, and again, the arm hit's the mat.
2...
A-Ref does the same one more time, but this time, just as the arm is about to hit the mat, it pauses in it's descent. A-Ref, more surprised than anyone, leans in close when Press' eyes shoot open. A-Ref takes a startled step back, and Stevie Harris looks at him to try and figure out what's going on, while the crowd begins to clap. Press takes his balled up fist, and shakes it along with the clapping of the crowd, and Stevie Harris eyes go wide in disbelief. The Wolf tightens his grip, if that were even possible, when Press begins to roll over onto his stomach, with Stevie in tow. He rolls a few more times until finally reaching the ropes, but he doesn't stop, dumping right out onto the floor. Somehow he gets his legs underneath him, lifting Stevie right up into the air as he continues squeezing the sleeper.
PHILO: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Press is at ringside, on his feet, with Stevie Harris hanging on to The Gallows for dear life!
CHARISSA: I don't think anyone can believe it. He should be out cold!
Press takes a few stutter steps away from the ring, before reaching down to grab Stevie by the legs, lifts them up on either side of his body, and then thrust backwards to crash into the ring apron. When Stevie's spine hits, he lets out an audible cry of pain, releasing The Gallows, allowing Press to fall forwards onto his hands and knee's. Press reaches up and cradles the back of his head with one hand, bringing his palm around in front of him to see his own blood covering it. When he pushes back up uncertainly to his feet, his face is a mixture of pain and absolute rage.
CHARISSA: Oh, shiiiittttttttt.......
Stevie, hanging on to the ring apron to keep himself upright, looks up at the towering figure as Press slowly turns to face him. Recognition sparks in Stevie's eyes like a light bulb going off, and he swiftly makes a move to try and slide into the ring. Suddenly Press is there, grabbing Stevie by the waist of his jeans, and with one swift motion, yanks him right back out to ringside. Stevie doesn't even get a chance to bring his hands up before the bear wades in with rights and lefts, knocking him back into the ring post. Trapped, Stevie does his best to duck and cover as Press continues to unload on him.
CHARISSA: Where is A-Ref with the count!
PHILO: I think he's just as shocked as the rest of us!
Somewhere between the haymakers, Stevie jabs his thumb up into Press' eye, momentarily causing the big man to blindly cease his attack. Seizing the brief reprieve, Stevie lunges at Press, only to get caught in a tilt-a-whirl that ends up with him lying stomach first on Press' shoulder. He looks around in a bit of a panic, before the big man walks him over to the nearby guardrail, and launches him about ten foot into the air only to come crashing down face first into the unforgiving steel.
PHILO: JESUS CHRIST! Stevie Harris just earned some frequent flier miles!
CHARISSA: How is this big bastard still on his feet!
Blood drips down Press' face as he reaches down to retrieve Harris, revealing that the Madman is now busted open himself. He takes Stevie by the wrist, and leans far back before whipping him as hard as he can towards the steel steps. Stevie explodes into the steps, sending the top section skidding across the floor, his body crumpling into a seated position beside the bottom half.
PHILO: This....this is getting serious. The more violence Press produces, the angrier he seems to be getting. The sight of his own blood has sent him out of his mind!
CHARISSA: Even more reason for A-Ref to assert himself!
PHILO: How can you expect the official to try and get in the middle of these two lunatics! They are trying to kill each other!
Press stalks forwards, reaching down to pull up Stevie Harris, who in desperation, sends a kick right into the big man's groin. Press drops to one knee, holding his crotch in surprise and anguish, when Stevie draws his foot back once more, and boots the big man right in the face. This sends Press down onto his back, but instead of following up, Stevie just leans back against the steel steps to try and recover some strength.
PHILO: I don't know that these guys know what quit is! Love or hate him, Stevie Harris might be the most tenacious S.O.B. I've ever seen.
CHARISSA: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Philo! Everyone eventually gets on the Stevie bandwagon. Hey, look! That idiot A-Ref has finally come out of his stupor, and decided to do his job.
A-Ref approaches the edge of the ring, looks down at the two bloodied and beaten men, shakes his head, and starts the count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: As much as I think this match started out to be a travesty, I'd also hate to see it end on a count out.
4...
5...
CHARISSA: Exactly! The powers that be should have known that normal rules couldn't contain these men. They aren't 'normal'.
6...
7...
PHILO: Stevie just reached up to the ring post, and pulled himself to his feet, and Press is using the ring apron to gain his!
8...
9...
Both men look across at one another, and then heave themselves into the ring to break the count. They come up to their feet at the same time, both staring daggers, while the arena around them explodes into cheers.
PHILO: Folks, we are witnessing two of the most popular, destructive, and violent men in our business, and they are proving why right here tonight!
CHARISSA: It's true, Philo, and you can only find them on PAW!
Stevie and Press start towards one another for a lock up, but Harris swiftly ducks out from under the grasp of the bigger man to end up behind him. When Press turns, Stevie begins hammering with right hands, throwing the injured champion off balance, but unable to knock him down. Stevie drops back towards the ropes for added spring, and comes sailing back for a clothesline, but instead walks right into a massive spinebuster.
PHILO: Christ Almighty! That shook the damn ring!
CHARISSA: Oh, No! Stevie!
Press slips over to fall on top of Stevie for a cover, and A-Ref drops down into position.
1...
2...
Thre...Stevie's shoulder shoots up off the canvas at the last possible second, and Press falls off of him, shaking his head. The big man pushes up to his feet, reaching down to pull Stevie up with him. He holds the groggy Harris up by a fistful of hair so that he can look him in the eyes, says something probably not pleasant, and then jerks his head down, tucking it between his legs into a powerbomb position. The crowd comes to their feet.
PHILO: It looks like Press is ready to end this thing!
CHARISSA: Come on, Stevie! You can't let it end like this!
Press hoists Stevie up into a seated position across his chest, and almost immediately Stevie starts hammering right hands down into the big mans lacerated skull. Press staggers a bit under the pressure, fatigue setting in from blood loss and the action from earlier. Stevie continues his assault until he's able to slip out of Press grasp to land on his feet in front of him. Once firmly on his feet, he sends a swift boot to Press midsection, doubling him over, fires towards the ropes for added momentum, and rebounds back to deliver a swinging neckbreaker to the champion.
PHILO: Jeez! Did you see the torque on that! I'm pretty sure the neck isn't supposed to twist that way, and I'm absolutely positive it isn't supposed to be slammed to the mat like that.
CHARISSA: And that quick this thing has turned around.
Stevie doesn't bother with a cover, getting up to his feet to stand over the fallen champion. He reaches up and wipes some of his own blood from his eyes, and grins out at the crowd before stuffing the bloody fingers into his mouth. The crowd sends out a mixed reaction when that same hand reaches down to his belt buckle, and he starts the process of unfastening it. A-Ref begins to warn him as the belt comes free, and in one swift motion he yanks it from his body. He folds the belt to where it's a manageable strap, and turns his attention back to Press.
PHILO: Come on! This is not necessary!
CHARISSA: Maybe not to you, but Stevie Harris intends to whip this dog into submission!
Stevie lifts the belt high over his head, but just when he's about to bring it crashing down on the big man's back, A-Ref reaches up from behind and snatches it out of the Madman's hands. Stevie pauses for a second, a look of rage crossing over his face as he slowly turns to stare at the official. A-Ref looks as surprised as Stevie at the belt in his hands, and he makes a mad dash to exit the ring. Stevie gives chase, swiping at A-Ref over the top rope as he lands safely on the outside.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is cussing up a storm, and A-Ref is just trying to protect himself.
CHARISSA: That fool has no right to interfere in this match! If he wants to disqualify him, fine, but don't get in the way of a masterpiece!
PHILO: Well, Stevie better turn around, cause Press is getting to his feet.
Press groggily stands, rubbing his neck, and trying to figure out what's going on. He spies Stevie, still berating A-Ref, and takes a few steps back to get a good running start. Just about the time that Harris starts to turn back towards the center of the ring, Press takes off into a sprint, throwing his boot out in front of him to connect squarely in Stevie's face. Harris is struck with such impact that he cuts a back flip, landing on his stomach.
PHILO: SUDDEN STOP!!! That's how he won the PAW Championship, and it looks like he's going to do it again!
CHARISSA: THIS IS A TRAVESTY!! GOD DAMN YOU REF!
A-Ref tosses Stevie's belt to the side, and belly slides back in the ring with his arm already raised.
1...
2...
Thre...
PHILO: HARRIS KICKED OUT!! That man is tougher than a two dollar steak! Jesus!
CHARISSA: I can't believe it! We're still in this thing, and LOOK! Reinforcements!
The fans boo loudly as Lola emerges from the curtain, power walking towards the ring. When she reaches ringside, she hops up onto the ring apron, and immediately starts screaming at Press and A-Ref. Press, still in disbelief from the kick out, looks over to where Lola has A-Ref tied up in an argument. He pushes himself up to his feet, and starts over to where the fiery woman is berating the official. The champion points back up the rampway, indicating to her to get the hell out, while the fans begin to come alive at what's happening in the ring.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is somehow getting back up to his feet, and he's fishing for something in his jeans!
CHARISSA: That Sudden Stop must have knocked him loopy! This isn't the time or place for that, Stevie!
PHILO: No, LOOK! He just pulled brass knucks out of his waist band!
CHARISSA: Ooooo Goody! An equalizer.
Stevie doesn't waste anytime pandering to the crowd as he slips the knucks onto his right hand, and signals Lola to get the big man's attention. She immediately starts pointing back into the ring, simultaneously grabbing A-Ref by the collar of his shirt so that he can't return to the action as well. Press gives Lola a dumbfounded look, and then turns back to where he left Stevie laying prone, only to find a fist full of metal crashing right into his jaw. Press collapses to the canvas, and Stevie swiftly stuffs the knucks back down into his jeans, and then drops for a cover. Lola let's go of A-Ref, and then drops down to the floor.
PHILO: This is fucking ridiculous! Stevie Harris didn't have to do that!
CHARISSA: Oh, yes, he did, Philo! That man deserves to be champion!
PHILO: WAIT! LOOK! Flaming Youth is running down to the ring!
A-Ref turns around, stares at the pin attempt in confusion, but then drops down to make the cover anyways.
1...
Youth reaches the ringside area right behind Lola, and grabs the woman by the hair of the head on his way to the ring.
2...
He bounces Lola's skull off the ring apron, and releases her, as he slips half his body under the bottom rope to grip A-Ref's foot.
Thre...Before A-Ref's hand can come down for the final count, Youth yanks the official under the bottom rope and to the outside of the ring. A-Ref starts to berate him, but Youth holds his hands up to placate him, and then indicates with his fist that Stevie Harris had used brass knucks.
CHARISSA: That little bastard has no business being out here at ringside! Much less putting his hands on an official.
PHILO: Oh, yeah right, and Lola has all the right in the world to be out here to help Stevie cheat.
CHARISSA: She's just lending moral support, and there's nothing wrong with that. Don't try and twist this around, Philo. She didn't break up a pin attempt!
PHILO: No, she just aided Stevie Harris in hitting the champion with a pair of Brass Knu....OH DAMN!
While the announcers were arguing, and Youth was trying to explain things to A-Ref, Stevie noticed the other half of the BombTrax on the outside of the ring. Stevie gets up to his feet, hits the opposite side ropes, and then comes flying in with a dropkick through the middle and bottom rope, catching Youth right in the chest, and sending him sailing down to the concrete. Once outside, he helps Lola up to her feet, and then shoves her in Youth's direction, giving her a menacing look that said to keep him occupied. He then turns his attention to A-Ref who starts to back peddle, until Stevie grabs him, and then manhandles him back into the ring.
CHARISSA: Now, see! That's a great leader. Stevie Harris has taken control of the action inside and outside of the ring, and we can finally get back down to business.
PHILO: Whatever, the man is king of the cheap shot, and nothing more.
CHARISSA: We'll see.
Stevie gets a fistful of Press' hair, and helps the big man up to his feet, before booting him in the breadbasket to double him over. Stevie tucks the champion's head between his legs, and grabs a handful of Press' leather pants by the waist.
PHILO: Stevie's going for the Feast of Crows, BUT PRESS JUST RAISED UP AND SENT STEVIE UP AND OVER TO THE MAT!
CHARISSA: Damn it, why won't this guy stay down!
Press is still out of it despite the save, and stumbles to fall chest first against the ropes, letting them hold him up so that he can try and shake the cobwebs. Suddenly Lola is back up on the ring apron, and she rushes across throwing her boot out to catch the big man right in the temple. Press stumbles down to one knee, holding his already injured head as Stevie pulls himself up to his feet from the other side of the ring. Lola screams for Stevie to come and take the advantage, as A-Ref tries to get Lola to vacate the area. Just then, Youth appears on the ring apron, and clubs Lola across the back, inadvertently sending her over the top rope, and into the ring.
PHILO: Oh man, I have a bad feeling about this!
Stevie comes rushing in at Youth, but the high flyer hops up to the top rope, springboards up and over Stevie, and comes down into a roll that ends with him back on his feet inside the ring. Stevie spins around and snarls, ready to make another charge, when he's taken by surprise by Press, who shoves him into the corner. Lola pops back up to her feet close by, and dives onto the big man's back before he can take any advantage, while Youth stalks forwards to help his partner.
PHILO: Well, there you have it! This is about to turn into a clusterfuck!
CHARISSA: All because Youth felt the need to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.
PHILO: The same could be said about Lola, Charissa! Neither one of them have a need to be here right now, but Youth wasn't going to sit back and watch his partner get double teamed.
Youth grabs Lola by the leg, and yanks her free of Press, spinning her around, and sending her sailing into the opposite corner. Meanwhile, Stevie Harris comes fighting out of the corner, and he and Press begin trading fists, while Youth rushes over to nail Lola with a big splash. A-Ref runs around the center of the ring, jumping up and down, trying to get the combatants to break it up, but soon realizes he's lost complete control of the match. He bails out of the ring, and signals for the bell. It rings out loud and true, and the fans begin to boo, but remain glued to the action still going on in the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this match has been thrown out by the official, and has been deemed a Double Disqualification!
The bell continues to ring as Youth backs up and then goes for another Splash, but Lola rolls out of the way so that he lands chest first into the turnbuckle. When he turns around, she fires in chops that rock the high flyer, and he settles back into the corner only to be pummeled again.
PHILO: All hell has broke loose here in Purity!
CHARISSA: Which is exactly what these damn BombTrax wanted!
PHILO: Come on, Charissa! Lola was the first one down to the ring, so I'd say this is Team Stevie's fault!
CHARISSA: Whatever! You have such little vision for interpreting true genius.
Press begins to gain the upper hand in the fist-o-cuffs, and drives Stevie back into the corner, while Lola does the same thing to Youth in hers. Press takes Stevie by the wrist, and whips him hard to the opposite side, not realizing his partner and Lola are occupying it. Stevie crashes into Lola, who in turn crushes Youth in the turnbuckle. Harris comes stumbling back out to the center of the ring, and Press rushes at him with a clothesline. At the last second, Stevie sidesteps the big man, and Press steam rolls into Lola, inadvertently crushing his own partner into the turnbuckle once again. Press steps away from the train wreck to turn back towards Stevie, and catches a boot to his midsection for his trouble. Stevie then tucks Press' head between his legs, grabs the big man's waistband, and then abruptly sits down into a piledriver.
PHILO: FEAST OF CROWS! But it's already too late! The match has been thrown out!
CHARISSA: DAMN IT! Why couldn't he have pulled that off just a few minutes ago!
Stevie gets up to his feet, snarling down at the champion, before spitting on his back in disrespect. Just as he's about to turn and check on Lola, Youth shoots out of the corner, twists his body, and throws his boot forwards with a massive Super Kick that sends the Madman thundering to the canvas.
PHILO: SLOW BURN TO STEVIE!
CHARISSA: Who does that pipsqueak think he is?!?
PHILO: I don't know, but he better not turn around!
Youth does a little dance over the prone Stevie Harris much to the fans delight, but it distracts him from the fact that Lola is positioning herself behind him. When he turns around, she boots him in the midsection, hooks his arms, and then drops him face first down into the mat.
PHILO: CHERRY COLA! Jesus, this is fucking nuts!
CHARISSA: Alright, Lola, now get Stevie back up...and lay the boots to these losers.
Before Lola can do anything, Security hit's the ring amidst a torrid of boo's from the crowd. She throws her hands up in front of her as they back her up into a neutral corner, while doing the same to Press who was getting back to his feet.
PHILO: Well, it looks like no more shenanigans tonight.
CHARISSA: Where were they when The BombTrax were cheating!
PHILO: I'll remind everyone that this was a 'Double' DQ, thank you very much.
Press nods at 4Loco, and grabs Youth, dragging him over to the edge of the ring before bailing out. A-Ref hands him his PAW Championship, his own dried blood still on the face plate, as he helps Youth onto his feet. The BombTrax begin gingerly making their way up the ramp, the fatigue from the match catching up to Press now that the adrenaline was wearing off. They had made it halfway up the ramp, when Stevie Harris voice paused their exit.
STEVIE HARRIS: You didn't beat me, Press Jones! Let me make that clear! If it hadn't been for your idiot partner getting in our business, this night would have belonged to The Movement. But as it stands, the false God will parade his carcass in front of the masses once again as the PAW Heavyweight Champion, while the better man is left to languish on the buffet of disappointment that this organization has provided. Well, I will not feast, Press Jones! I can assure you that, just like I can make certain that your reign on this earth is on borrowed time!
The BombTrax have reached the stage now, and Press stares down into the ring at Stevie, who points at him and continues to preach to the fans despite his mic being cut off. He shakes his head, until Stevie Harris comes to a halt, and gives his attention back to the big man. Press swipes his face with the palm of his hand to remove some of the blood and sweat from the match, and then raises the PAW Championship high over his head. This simple action almost sends Stevie into a new tirade, but he pauses when Press points to himself and then Youth, and then extends that same finger to the ring to point out Harris and Lola. Stevie just stares for a minute, and then casts his skeletal grin at the champion, nodding his head in ascension. The camera zeroes in on that smile, before flashing the PAW logo, and then fades to black.
The crowd instantly begins to buzz, when 'The Riverbed' by Gallows blasts out over the speakers. The beat really begins to kick in when Stevie Harris steps through, a scornful expression on his face to accompany the wooden crutches under his arms. The fans already begin booing at the sight of the crutches, and he scowls before slowly making his way down to the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, the challenger, standing at six foot two, and at a weight of 230 pounds. He hails from St. Louis, Missouri, and is the enigmatic leader of the I'm With Stevie Movement. This is STEVIE HARRIS!!!
Stevie continues to make his way down to the ring, eyeing as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. A few BombTrax fans stand up holding signs, and he spits in their direction, jawing back and forth before finally shuffling along. When he finally reaches the ring, he tosses his crutches in, and rolls under the bottom rope. He pops back upright, grabbing his crutches, and leans heavily against them shaking his head at the crowd.
PHILO: I have it on good authority that Stevie Harris is cleared to wrestle here tonight! What the hell is the meaning of this?
CHARISSA: Obviously he's still injured after that train wreck of a match at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show, where that overgrown Yeti maliciously tried to hurt Stevie on purpose, and furthermore, stole the championship!
PHILO: We must have been watching two different matches, cause that's now how I recall it at all.
Before any more debate can be had, the opening chords to 'Strangle Hold' by Ted Nugent pumps through the PA, and red strobe-lights begin to flicker all around the ring and ramp way, finally settling on the entry way where the silhouette of the massive Press can be seen standing in the curtain. Words flash up on the big screen above the stage, as the crowd continues to buzz in anticipation.
WITH THIS PASS
I CAN GO ANYWHERE I WANT!
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. The PAW Heavyweight Championship rests comfortably around his waist, as he scans the crowd. He raises one black gloved fist into the air, and the fans make the place go deafening.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And introducing his opponent, he stands at six foot eleven, and weights in at 365 pounds. Hailing from right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, he is one-half of The BombTrax, and the current PAW Heavyweight Champion! THIS IS PRESS!!!
Press drops his fist to his side, confidently making his way down to the ring. When he reaches the end of the ramp, he 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, staring straight ahead at Stevie Harris, who's eyes never left him once for an instant.
PHILO: Man-O-Man, can you feel the tension in this building? It's about to reach a fever pitch in the crowd, and it's going to explode!
CHARISSA: It's pretty obvious by this stare down between these two, that they DO NOT like each other. I just hope Stevie isn't robbed of this opportunity because of his injuries.
A-Ref steps over to Harris, who finally turns his gaze away from Press so that he can berate the official. He points at his leg and the crutches, and shakes his head 'No'. A-Ref throws his hands out at his sides, and continues with his questions, until Stevie finally calls for a mic.
PHILO: Looks like Stevie's going to explain this situation.
CHARISSA: DON'T WORRY, STEVIE, WE'RE WITH YOU!!
PHILO: Jesus, pipe down! You're supposed to be impartial.
As Philo tries to reign Charissa in, Stevie takes a microphone from one of the Tech's at ringside, and hobbles out to the center of the ring. Press has not moved, still staring daggers into the skeletal man. Stevie regards Press with a disgusted expression, and then holds the mic up to his face.
STEVIE HARRIS: Is this not what you wanted, big man?
Stevie indicates his busted leg with his hand, and the crowd boo's at the implication. Press just smirks, and twirls his finger in the air for Stevie to get on with it. After a few more seconds of staring, Stevie raises the mic once again.
STEVIE HARRIS: Well, I hope you're happy with yourself, Press Jones. You got all these people riled up for a return championship match, one of the most anticipated matches in our companies short history, knowing full well that I wouldn't be ready to compete. YOU!
Stevie points his finger in Press direction, a snarl coming to his lips.
STEVIE HARRIS: You did that, pulling the strings of your pet, Moo-Nin, so that you could avoid having to face me at my best. No, no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Cause you know, deep down in your heart, that you don't have what it takes to come out here and take me on when I'm at one hundred percent. Not if you want to remain champion, you pretender God.
Press bristles at the disrespect shown to Munin, and comes out of the corner for the first time, his smirk erasing to one far more dangerous. Stevie holds up a crutch, eyes burning dark as coal.
STEVIE HARRIS: That's right. Show these people what you're made of. Bang those powerful fists off the cripples skull, and prove to them what a big man you really are.
Press pauses, his face flushing red with fury, and he shakes his head as he turns around to face the corner, staring out at the crowd to keep from doing something he might regret. Stevie Harris' grin could light up a highway at midnight as he watches the champion make this mistake. He abandons one of the crutches, chokes up on the other, and rushes across the ring to nail the big man. The crutch hits with such force that it splinters apart, wooden shards flying in a million directions, and Press is sent torpedoing over the ropes to crash land on the concrete floor.
PHILO: THERE WASN'T A DAMN THING WRONG WITH STEVIE HARRIS! I KNEW IT!
CHARISSA: Get him Stevie!
A-Ref tries to berate Stevie, but the official is completely ignored as Harris bails out of the ring after the champion. He reaches down, unsnapping the straps holding the belt around Press' waist, and yanks it out from under him. The crowd's boos intensify, and Harris casts the arena another grin, holding the belt up over his head. Press slowly begins to make his way into a push up position, when Stevie folds up the belt, and then brings it crashing down onto the back of Press' skull. He remains on his knee's beside his fallen victim, bringing the belt up, and then back down again, again, and again until finally the face plate is covered in blood.
PHILO: This sadistic son of a bitch has to be stopped!
CHARISSA: Technically the match hasn't even started, Philo! There's nothing anyone can do.
Harris reaches down and gouges his thumbs into the open wound on the back of Press' head, and then reaches up and slaps his body with the bloody imprint, covering himself with the blood of his enemy like warpaint. The crowd's boos grow louder, except for the straggling I'm With Stevie supporters.
PHILO: This guy is sick!
CHARISSA: Ok, ok...lathering up in another person's blood might be taking it a tad far.
PHILO: A TAD! You have got to be kidding me.
Stevie stands now, staring down at Press with what almost appears to be a euphoric smile, before grabbing the big man under the arms, and heaving with everything he has. Harris struggles to drag Press over to the steel steps, and grunting in discomfort, hoists the dead weight up into a seated position on the top step. He then takes Press by the arm, lowers his head, and pulls the big man up onto his shoulders in an epic show of strength. Knee's buckling, he carries the champion, fireman style, over to the edge of the ring, and dumps him down onto the ring apron and beneath the bottom rope into the ring. Stevie swiftly slides in and rolls Press to the center of the ring. He comes up to his knee's and points for A-Ref to call for the bell.
PHILO: Come on? Don't do it A-Ref!
CHARISSA: I don't think Stevie's going to leave him much of a choice.
A-Ref hesitates, shaking his head in disbelief, when Stevie Harris pops up to his feet, and snarls at the official to ring the bell. A-Ref backs up into the corner, but quickly points to the time keeper who chimes the official start of the match. Stevie steps back over to Press, who hasn't moved, and drops down with a lazy cover.
PHILO: This is nothing short of highway robbery.
A-Ref moves into position, and reluctantly lifts his arm in the air to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...At the last possible second Press' shoulder rolls up off the mat, sending the capacity crowd into a frenzy, and Stevie Harris into shock. The surprised expression doesn't last long as it turns to that of a wild man, as Stevie hops up to his feet, and chases A-Ref clear out of the ring. He thrusts his fists up into his hairline, shaking his head 'No' as he slowly turns back to face Press, who has returned to a prone position. With a growl, Stevie dives onto the big man, sitting down right beside him, cradling his head, and then driving in bare knuckled fists repeatedly in the man's face.
PHILO: Stevie Harris has fucking lost it, and is beating the holy hell out of a semi-conscious PAW Champion!
CHARISSA: Well, let's not act like this is a surprise. Anyone who didn't see this coming is blind. Stevie Harris has made claim to this throne, and he's going to take it by force.
PHILO: Does that mean throwing every rule out the window? Intimidating officials? Faking injuries?
CHARISSA: By whatever means necessary, Philo.
PHILO: This isn't south Harlem, and Stevie Harris is no Malcolm X. No matter how much you crazies who have joined his movement might think he is!
Harris finally relents with his piston like rights, and he sits beside Press, who is now busted open across his forehead as well. Stevie shakes his head, and then lays his body across the champion, exhausted from the repeated activity. A-Ref drops to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...Again, at the last possible nano-second, Press rolls the shoulder up. Stevie doesn't even bother with berating A-Ref this time, as he immediately moves back into a seated position. His movement is jerky, like someone who is irritated beyond belief, as he grabs Press by a fistful of hair, and slips himself into position to apply his patented sleeper hold. Once locked in, he burns holes in A-Ref to keep vigilant watch on Press.
PHILO: Well, folks, this one's all but over now. Stevie Harris has The Gallows locked in, and poor Press hasn't even had a chance to get up off the mat. He's bleeding from both the front, and back side of his head, and even if he somehow manages to keep his fist in the air, I think A-Ref should just call it.
CHARISSA: I agree, Philo. Damage has been done. Just go ahead and call the match, and award Stevie Harris the PAW Heavyweight Championship!
Philo shakes his head in disgust, while back in the ring, A-Ref hovers over Press asking the incoherent man if he want's to give it up. After not receiving any verbal answer, A-Ref takes Press by the wrist, and lifts the big man's arm into the air. When he releases his hold, the arm limply falls to the mat.
1...
A-Ref repeats the process, and again, the arm hit's the mat.
2...
A-Ref does the same one more time, but this time, just as the arm is about to hit the mat, it pauses in it's descent. A-Ref, more surprised than anyone, leans in close when Press' eyes shoot open. A-Ref takes a startled step back, and Stevie Harris looks at him to try and figure out what's going on, while the crowd begins to clap. Press takes his balled up fist, and shakes it along with the clapping of the crowd, and Stevie Harris eyes go wide in disbelief. The Wolf tightens his grip, if that were even possible, when Press begins to roll over onto his stomach, with Stevie in tow. He rolls a few more times until finally reaching the ropes, but he doesn't stop, dumping right out onto the floor. Somehow he gets his legs underneath him, lifting Stevie right up into the air as he continues squeezing the sleeper.
PHILO: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Press is at ringside, on his feet, with Stevie Harris hanging on to The Gallows for dear life!
CHARISSA: I don't think anyone can believe it. He should be out cold!
Press takes a few stutter steps away from the ring, before reaching down to grab Stevie by the legs, lifts them up on either side of his body, and then thrust backwards to crash into the ring apron. When Stevie's spine hits, he lets out an audible cry of pain, releasing The Gallows, allowing Press to fall forwards onto his hands and knee's. Press reaches up and cradles the back of his head with one hand, bringing his palm around in front of him to see his own blood covering it. When he pushes back up uncertainly to his feet, his face is a mixture of pain and absolute rage.
CHARISSA: Oh, shiiiittttttttt.......
Stevie, hanging on to the ring apron to keep himself upright, looks up at the towering figure as Press slowly turns to face him. Recognition sparks in Stevie's eyes like a light bulb going off, and he swiftly makes a move to try and slide into the ring. Suddenly Press is there, grabbing Stevie by the waist of his jeans, and with one swift motion, yanks him right back out to ringside. Stevie doesn't even get a chance to bring his hands up before the bear wades in with rights and lefts, knocking him back into the ring post. Trapped, Stevie does his best to duck and cover as Press continues to unload on him.
CHARISSA: Where is A-Ref with the count!
PHILO: I think he's just as shocked as the rest of us!
Somewhere between the haymakers, Stevie jabs his thumb up into Press' eye, momentarily causing the big man to blindly cease his attack. Seizing the brief reprieve, Stevie lunges at Press, only to get caught in a tilt-a-whirl that ends up with him lying stomach first on Press' shoulder. He looks around in a bit of a panic, before the big man walks him over to the nearby guardrail, and launches him about ten foot into the air only to come crashing down face first into the unforgiving steel.
PHILO: JESUS CHRIST! Stevie Harris just earned some frequent flier miles!
CHARISSA: How is this big bastard still on his feet!
Blood drips down Press' face as he reaches down to retrieve Harris, revealing that the Madman is now busted open himself. He takes Stevie by the wrist, and leans far back before whipping him as hard as he can towards the steel steps. Stevie explodes into the steps, sending the top section skidding across the floor, his body crumpling into a seated position beside the bottom half.
PHILO: This....this is getting serious. The more violence Press produces, the angrier he seems to be getting. The sight of his own blood has sent him out of his mind!
CHARISSA: Even more reason for A-Ref to assert himself!
PHILO: How can you expect the official to try and get in the middle of these two lunatics! They are trying to kill each other!
Press stalks forwards, reaching down to pull up Stevie Harris, who in desperation, sends a kick right into the big man's groin. Press drops to one knee, holding his crotch in surprise and anguish, when Stevie draws his foot back once more, and boots the big man right in the face. This sends Press down onto his back, but instead of following up, Stevie just leans back against the steel steps to try and recover some strength.
PHILO: I don't know that these guys know what quit is! Love or hate him, Stevie Harris might be the most tenacious S.O.B. I've ever seen.
CHARISSA: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Philo! Everyone eventually gets on the Stevie bandwagon. Hey, look! That idiot A-Ref has finally come out of his stupor, and decided to do his job.
A-Ref approaches the edge of the ring, looks down at the two bloodied and beaten men, shakes his head, and starts the count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: As much as I think this match started out to be a travesty, I'd also hate to see it end on a count out.
4...
5...
CHARISSA: Exactly! The powers that be should have known that normal rules couldn't contain these men. They aren't 'normal'.
6...
7...
PHILO: Stevie just reached up to the ring post, and pulled himself to his feet, and Press is using the ring apron to gain his!
8...
9...
Both men look across at one another, and then heave themselves into the ring to break the count. They come up to their feet at the same time, both staring daggers, while the arena around them explodes into cheers.
PHILO: Folks, we are witnessing two of the most popular, destructive, and violent men in our business, and they are proving why right here tonight!
CHARISSA: It's true, Philo, and you can only find them on PAW!
Stevie and Press start towards one another for a lock up, but Harris swiftly ducks out from under the grasp of the bigger man to end up behind him. When Press turns, Stevie begins hammering with right hands, throwing the injured champion off balance, but unable to knock him down. Stevie drops back towards the ropes for added spring, and comes sailing back for a clothesline, but instead walks right into a massive spinebuster.
PHILO: Christ Almighty! That shook the damn ring!
CHARISSA: Oh, No! Stevie!
Press slips over to fall on top of Stevie for a cover, and A-Ref drops down into position.
1...
2...
Thre...Stevie's shoulder shoots up off the canvas at the last possible second, and Press falls off of him, shaking his head. The big man pushes up to his feet, reaching down to pull Stevie up with him. He holds the groggy Harris up by a fistful of hair so that he can look him in the eyes, says something probably not pleasant, and then jerks his head down, tucking it between his legs into a powerbomb position. The crowd comes to their feet.
PHILO: It looks like Press is ready to end this thing!
CHARISSA: Come on, Stevie! You can't let it end like this!
Press hoists Stevie up into a seated position across his chest, and almost immediately Stevie starts hammering right hands down into the big mans lacerated skull. Press staggers a bit under the pressure, fatigue setting in from blood loss and the action from earlier. Stevie continues his assault until he's able to slip out of Press grasp to land on his feet in front of him. Once firmly on his feet, he sends a swift boot to Press midsection, doubling him over, fires towards the ropes for added momentum, and rebounds back to deliver a swinging neckbreaker to the champion.
PHILO: Jeez! Did you see the torque on that! I'm pretty sure the neck isn't supposed to twist that way, and I'm absolutely positive it isn't supposed to be slammed to the mat like that.
CHARISSA: And that quick this thing has turned around.
Stevie doesn't bother with a cover, getting up to his feet to stand over the fallen champion. He reaches up and wipes some of his own blood from his eyes, and grins out at the crowd before stuffing the bloody fingers into his mouth. The crowd sends out a mixed reaction when that same hand reaches down to his belt buckle, and he starts the process of unfastening it. A-Ref begins to warn him as the belt comes free, and in one swift motion he yanks it from his body. He folds the belt to where it's a manageable strap, and turns his attention back to Press.
PHILO: Come on! This is not necessary!
CHARISSA: Maybe not to you, but Stevie Harris intends to whip this dog into submission!
Stevie lifts the belt high over his head, but just when he's about to bring it crashing down on the big man's back, A-Ref reaches up from behind and snatches it out of the Madman's hands. Stevie pauses for a second, a look of rage crossing over his face as he slowly turns to stare at the official. A-Ref looks as surprised as Stevie at the belt in his hands, and he makes a mad dash to exit the ring. Stevie gives chase, swiping at A-Ref over the top rope as he lands safely on the outside.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is cussing up a storm, and A-Ref is just trying to protect himself.
CHARISSA: That fool has no right to interfere in this match! If he wants to disqualify him, fine, but don't get in the way of a masterpiece!
PHILO: Well, Stevie better turn around, cause Press is getting to his feet.
Press groggily stands, rubbing his neck, and trying to figure out what's going on. He spies Stevie, still berating A-Ref, and takes a few steps back to get a good running start. Just about the time that Harris starts to turn back towards the center of the ring, Press takes off into a sprint, throwing his boot out in front of him to connect squarely in Stevie's face. Harris is struck with such impact that he cuts a back flip, landing on his stomach.
PHILO: SUDDEN STOP!!! That's how he won the PAW Championship, and it looks like he's going to do it again!
CHARISSA: THIS IS A TRAVESTY!! GOD DAMN YOU REF!
A-Ref tosses Stevie's belt to the side, and belly slides back in the ring with his arm already raised.
1...
2...
Thre...
PHILO: HARRIS KICKED OUT!! That man is tougher than a two dollar steak! Jesus!
CHARISSA: I can't believe it! We're still in this thing, and LOOK! Reinforcements!
The fans boo loudly as Lola emerges from the curtain, power walking towards the ring. When she reaches ringside, she hops up onto the ring apron, and immediately starts screaming at Press and A-Ref. Press, still in disbelief from the kick out, looks over to where Lola has A-Ref tied up in an argument. He pushes himself up to his feet, and starts over to where the fiery woman is berating the official. The champion points back up the rampway, indicating to her to get the hell out, while the fans begin to come alive at what's happening in the ring.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is somehow getting back up to his feet, and he's fishing for something in his jeans!
CHARISSA: That Sudden Stop must have knocked him loopy! This isn't the time or place for that, Stevie!
PHILO: No, LOOK! He just pulled brass knucks out of his waist band!
CHARISSA: Ooooo Goody! An equalizer.
Stevie doesn't waste anytime pandering to the crowd as he slips the knucks onto his right hand, and signals Lola to get the big man's attention. She immediately starts pointing back into the ring, simultaneously grabbing A-Ref by the collar of his shirt so that he can't return to the action as well. Press gives Lola a dumbfounded look, and then turns back to where he left Stevie laying prone, only to find a fist full of metal crashing right into his jaw. Press collapses to the canvas, and Stevie swiftly stuffs the knucks back down into his jeans, and then drops for a cover. Lola let's go of A-Ref, and then drops down to the floor.
PHILO: This is fucking ridiculous! Stevie Harris didn't have to do that!
CHARISSA: Oh, yes, he did, Philo! That man deserves to be champion!
PHILO: WAIT! LOOK! Flaming Youth is running down to the ring!
A-Ref turns around, stares at the pin attempt in confusion, but then drops down to make the cover anyways.
1...
Youth reaches the ringside area right behind Lola, and grabs the woman by the hair of the head on his way to the ring.
2...
He bounces Lola's skull off the ring apron, and releases her, as he slips half his body under the bottom rope to grip A-Ref's foot.
Thre...Before A-Ref's hand can come down for the final count, Youth yanks the official under the bottom rope and to the outside of the ring. A-Ref starts to berate him, but Youth holds his hands up to placate him, and then indicates with his fist that Stevie Harris had used brass knucks.
CHARISSA: That little bastard has no business being out here at ringside! Much less putting his hands on an official.
PHILO: Oh, yeah right, and Lola has all the right in the world to be out here to help Stevie cheat.
CHARISSA: She's just lending moral support, and there's nothing wrong with that. Don't try and twist this around, Philo. She didn't break up a pin attempt!
PHILO: No, she just aided Stevie Harris in hitting the champion with a pair of Brass Knu....OH DAMN!
While the announcers were arguing, and Youth was trying to explain things to A-Ref, Stevie noticed the other half of the BombTrax on the outside of the ring. Stevie gets up to his feet, hits the opposite side ropes, and then comes flying in with a dropkick through the middle and bottom rope, catching Youth right in the chest, and sending him sailing down to the concrete. Once outside, he helps Lola up to her feet, and then shoves her in Youth's direction, giving her a menacing look that said to keep him occupied. He then turns his attention to A-Ref who starts to back peddle, until Stevie grabs him, and then manhandles him back into the ring.
CHARISSA: Now, see! That's a great leader. Stevie Harris has taken control of the action inside and outside of the ring, and we can finally get back down to business.
PHILO: Whatever, the man is king of the cheap shot, and nothing more.
CHARISSA: We'll see.
Stevie gets a fistful of Press' hair, and helps the big man up to his feet, before booting him in the breadbasket to double him over. Stevie tucks the champion's head between his legs, and grabs a handful of Press' leather pants by the waist.
PHILO: Stevie's going for the Feast of Crows, BUT PRESS JUST RAISED UP AND SENT STEVIE UP AND OVER TO THE MAT!
CHARISSA: Damn it, why won't this guy stay down!
Press is still out of it despite the save, and stumbles to fall chest first against the ropes, letting them hold him up so that he can try and shake the cobwebs. Suddenly Lola is back up on the ring apron, and she rushes across throwing her boot out to catch the big man right in the temple. Press stumbles down to one knee, holding his already injured head as Stevie pulls himself up to his feet from the other side of the ring. Lola screams for Stevie to come and take the advantage, as A-Ref tries to get Lola to vacate the area. Just then, Youth appears on the ring apron, and clubs Lola across the back, inadvertently sending her over the top rope, and into the ring.
PHILO: Oh man, I have a bad feeling about this!
Stevie comes rushing in at Youth, but the high flyer hops up to the top rope, springboards up and over Stevie, and comes down into a roll that ends with him back on his feet inside the ring. Stevie spins around and snarls, ready to make another charge, when he's taken by surprise by Press, who shoves him into the corner. Lola pops back up to her feet close by, and dives onto the big man's back before he can take any advantage, while Youth stalks forwards to help his partner.
PHILO: Well, there you have it! This is about to turn into a clusterfuck!
CHARISSA: All because Youth felt the need to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.
PHILO: The same could be said about Lola, Charissa! Neither one of them have a need to be here right now, but Youth wasn't going to sit back and watch his partner get double teamed.
Youth grabs Lola by the leg, and yanks her free of Press, spinning her around, and sending her sailing into the opposite corner. Meanwhile, Stevie Harris comes fighting out of the corner, and he and Press begin trading fists, while Youth rushes over to nail Lola with a big splash. A-Ref runs around the center of the ring, jumping up and down, trying to get the combatants to break it up, but soon realizes he's lost complete control of the match. He bails out of the ring, and signals for the bell. It rings out loud and true, and the fans begin to boo, but remain glued to the action still going on in the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this match has been thrown out by the official, and has been deemed a Double Disqualification!
The bell continues to ring as Youth backs up and then goes for another Splash, but Lola rolls out of the way so that he lands chest first into the turnbuckle. When he turns around, she fires in chops that rock the high flyer, and he settles back into the corner only to be pummeled again.
PHILO: All hell has broke loose here in Purity!
CHARISSA: Which is exactly what these damn BombTrax wanted!
PHILO: Come on, Charissa! Lola was the first one down to the ring, so I'd say this is Team Stevie's fault!
CHARISSA: Whatever! You have such little vision for interpreting true genius.
Press begins to gain the upper hand in the fist-o-cuffs, and drives Stevie back into the corner, while Lola does the same thing to Youth in hers. Press takes Stevie by the wrist, and whips him hard to the opposite side, not realizing his partner and Lola are occupying it. Stevie crashes into Lola, who in turn crushes Youth in the turnbuckle. Harris comes stumbling back out to the center of the ring, and Press rushes at him with a clothesline. At the last second, Stevie sidesteps the big man, and Press steam rolls into Lola, inadvertently crushing his own partner into the turnbuckle once again. Press steps away from the train wreck to turn back towards Stevie, and catches a boot to his midsection for his trouble. Stevie then tucks Press' head between his legs, grabs the big man's waistband, and then abruptly sits down into a piledriver.
PHILO: FEAST OF CROWS! But it's already too late! The match has been thrown out!
CHARISSA: DAMN IT! Why couldn't he have pulled that off just a few minutes ago!
Stevie gets up to his feet, snarling down at the champion, before spitting on his back in disrespect. Just as he's about to turn and check on Lola, Youth shoots out of the corner, twists his body, and throws his boot forwards with a massive Super Kick that sends the Madman thundering to the canvas.
PHILO: SLOW BURN TO STEVIE!
CHARISSA: Who does that pipsqueak think he is?!?
PHILO: I don't know, but he better not turn around!
Youth does a little dance over the prone Stevie Harris much to the fans delight, but it distracts him from the fact that Lola is positioning herself behind him. When he turns around, she boots him in the midsection, hooks his arms, and then drops him face first down into the mat.
PHILO: CHERRY COLA! Jesus, this is fucking nuts!
CHARISSA: Alright, Lola, now get Stevie back up...and lay the boots to these losers.
Before Lola can do anything, Security hit's the ring amidst a torrid of boo's from the crowd. She throws her hands up in front of her as they back her up into a neutral corner, while doing the same to Press who was getting back to his feet.
PHILO: Well, it looks like no more shenanigans tonight.
CHARISSA: Where were they when The BombTrax were cheating!
PHILO: I'll remind everyone that this was a 'Double' DQ, thank you very much.
Press nods at 4Loco, and grabs Youth, dragging him over to the edge of the ring before bailing out. A-Ref hands him his PAW Championship, his own dried blood still on the face plate, as he helps Youth onto his feet. The BombTrax begin gingerly making their way up the ramp, the fatigue from the match catching up to Press now that the adrenaline was wearing off. They had made it halfway up the ramp, when Stevie Harris voice paused their exit.
STEVIE HARRIS: You didn't beat me, Press Jones! Let me make that clear! If it hadn't been for your idiot partner getting in our business, this night would have belonged to The Movement. But as it stands, the false God will parade his carcass in front of the masses once again as the PAW Heavyweight Champion, while the better man is left to languish on the buffet of disappointment that this organization has provided. Well, I will not feast, Press Jones! I can assure you that, just like I can make certain that your reign on this earth is on borrowed time!
The BombTrax have reached the stage now, and Press stares down into the ring at Stevie, who points at him and continues to preach to the fans despite his mic being cut off. He shakes his head, until Stevie Harris comes to a halt, and gives his attention back to the big man. Press swipes his face with the palm of his hand to remove some of the blood and sweat from the match, and then raises the PAW Championship high over his head. This simple action almost sends Stevie into a new tirade, but he pauses when Press points to himself and then Youth, and then extends that same finger to the ring to point out Harris and Lola. Stevie just stares for a minute, and then casts his skeletal grin at the champion, nodding his head in ascension. The camera zeroes in on that smile, before flashing the PAW logo, and then fades to black.
