EWA Live From London Results

(As we open we see an “EWA: LIVE IN LONDON” banner up against a wall, we then see someone walk into shot and the hear the crowd go crazy. It’s none other than England’s own JOHN ILEY! Dressed in a smart suit and tie and holding an iPad he turns to the camera and smiles.)

John Iley: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, wrestling fans around the world. WELCOME TO THE 02 ARENA RIGHT HERE IN LONDON ENGLAND!

(The crowd goes crazy again!)

John Iley: Now, you may be wondering why the ‘whistle and flute’ (He strikes a few poses and does a 360° turn showing off his suit) Well it’s because I, John Iley, am in fact the head of the firm who is helping to host of this event! So I’m having to stay backstage to make sure everything back here is going to plan so I can’t be out there in the crowd or the ring tonight, sorry fans!

(We hear the crowd boo at this, but John waves his hands down as if to ask the crowd to stop booing.)

John Iley: I know, I know! And I’m sorry I really am! Hell, given the chance I’d be in that ring in a match tonight if I could! But as my wrestling career is over this the best I can do for tonight! But I want all of you in the arena, all those fans do something for me. Now I can’t be out there, doing a match, showing what British wrestling is all about, but you, yes, all of you, out there in the seats tonight, I want you to show the EWA what British wrestling fans are like! (His voice starts to get more intense) Make as much noise as you can, scream, cheer, boo, those of you in the cheap seats I’d like ya to clap your hands and stamp your feet; the rest of you can just rattle your jewelry! Show the men and women of the EWA and the fans watching around the world just how passionate we are about this business and this sport!

WE ARE ENGLAND AND WE.. LOVE.. WRESTLING!

(The crowd is going more crazy than before as a wry smile crosses John’s face.)

John Iley:: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the EWA, at the 02 Arena, Live from London, get ready for one HELL of a night of action!

(John walks off and we slowly zoom into the banner as we then fade to the shows opening video.)


Mike Malone: Ladies and gentlemen, we come to you live tonight across the pond in beautiful London, England! It’s Live From London, and I’m Mike Malone, joined as always by the illustrious Vincent Ashe, and what a show we have for you tonight!

Vincent Ashe: Indeed, Malone, tonight is the biggest night in the history of nursing homes across the world, as Ray Willmott and Grady Smith have a wheelchair battle to determine who the Geriatric Champion of the World is!

MM: Okay, so…Willmott’s only 33, you’re wrong, that’s not happening, and you’re a moron. Does that cover everything?

VA: Not even close, Malone! Every championship is on the line tonight! It’s going to be a great night!

MM: And we’re not going to waste any time – it’s time for our first contest of the evening!


JACOB MEPHISTO VS NOTHING

DOG COLLAR MATCH

As we cut to ringside, a long, heavy steel chain stretches across the ring, a thick, heavy, leather collar attached to each end. Ring announcer Nikki Rogers stands center ring, microphone in hand as the crowd buzzes loudly in anticipation.

MM: Well, folks, we’re going to start things off in brutal fashion. This one has been brewing for months. It’s going to be violent. It’s going to be unsettling.

VA: It’s gonna be the end of NOTHING, Malone! Especially after he cost Mephisto the EWA Network Championship at Battlelines 28!

MM: That remains to be seen, Vince. Either way, we’re about to see brutality at its finest!

The lights flicker, dim, then die altogether, leaving the arena in total darkness. A few fans shine their cell phone lights, but other than these pinpricks of light, there is only darkness.

The big screen above the entrance flares to life, the image of a dark forest thick with fog dominating the screen. The haunting opening of Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter” begins to seep out of the speakers. The crowd let’s out a loud boo, but the jeers fade quickly as the crowd continues to buzz with curiosity.

 

Close the door, put out the light
No, they won’t be, home tonight…

 

One by one, several large, black wolves emerge from the fog in the forest. Four wolves stalk through the trees, followed by a fifth larger wolf. All five wolves snarl, their eyes burning bright red.

 

The snow falls hard, and don’t you know
The winds of Thor are blowing cold…

 

The fog thickens and a flicker of pale blue light cuts through the fog, distracting two of the wolves, the two dashing into the black depths of the woods.

 

They’re wearing steel that’s bright and true
They carry news that must get through…

 

The scraping sound of chains can be heard and the remaining three wolves begin to bare their teeth. More blue flashes deeper in the woods and two more wolves dash into the darkness, leaving the largest wolf alone.

 

They choose the path where no one goes…

 

The large, red-eyed wolf lowers its body, ready to pounce forward, but as it does, the loud clinking of chains is heard and a heavy leather collar attaches itself to its neck, a heavy chain rising from the forest floor securing itself to the collar.

 

They hold no quarter…

 

The rattle of a snake is heard and a large rattlesnake springs up from the ground, striking the wolf.

 

They ask no quarter…

 

Shadows and fog form around the serpent, causing the shadowy form to change and grow into a humanoid figure dressed in a full suit. The figure stares at the wolf as it succumbs to the venom. The music fades and the figure, still shrouded by shadows, turns to face the screen. It opens its eyes and, shining like two pinpricks of light, we can see familiar pale, grey eyes. The screen cuts off, leaving the arena in silence and darkness until a single word burns onto the screen.

 

OBEY

 

The arena is suddenly bathed in a sickly green light. Standing in the light is the silhouette of a man. The sound of snake rattles and scraping chains comes over the speakers until…

 

TIIIIIIIIME… IS ON MY SIIIIDE… YES IT IS!

 

The lights flare to their absolute brightest for a moment before settling to their normal color and contrast as Jacob Mephisto stands on the entrance stage dressed in a full suit, all a charcoal grey complete with a poisonous green tie. The crowd boos loudly as the Rolling Stones classic continues to play and Mephisto begins his walk to the ring, pale grey eyes locked straight ahead.

The bell sounds as Nikki Rogers begins her official introduction.

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, our opening contest is scheduled for one fall and is a Dog Collar Match! Introducing first…

Mephisto continues his steady pace towards the ring, never looking away from the ring.

MM: What an eerie entrance from The Heretic, folks! This one is going to be absolutely violent. For months, Mephisto has gotten into the head of The Purveyor. Recently, the founder of HATE struck back. Tonight, they settle things.

VA: You mean Mephisto settled things, Malone! That video was more than just for show. It was a message. The EWA’s serpent has struck. The poison has gone to NOTHING’s head. Tonight, Mephisto deals the fatal blow!

NR: Hailing from Nazareth, Pennsylvania and weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, here is JACOB MEPHISTOOO!!!

Mephisto reaches ringside, calmly walking up the ring steps and stepping through the ropes. He eyes the collars and chain for a moment. Referee Juan Cardillo points to the chain and to Mephisto, but Mephisto ignores him, slowly removing his tie, jacket and shirt, displaying the scars of past battles crisscrossed on his body.

MM: And the scars on this man’s body tell the story folks. This is one dangerous man, ladies and gentlemen.

VA: Finally, some recognition, Malone! People talk about Mephisto’s ability to get into a person’s head and they forget how dangerous he is. This is a man who set Osbourne Kilminster and Sinnocence on the path to retirement. Not just mentally, but physically. He maimed Kilminster for life. This is the man who had an infamous ladder match with Lunatikk Crippler that scarred The Masochist. And, tonight, we’re going to see Mephisto unleash that monster inside on The Purveyor!

The music fades and the crowd begins to chant.

WE WANT NOTH-ING!
WE WANT NOTH-ING!
WE WANT NOTH-ING!

 

It seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…

The lights in the O2 Arena drop out and the crowd begins to buzz knowing full well the violence about to occur before their eyes. Crowd noise fills the arena but not much else for several tense moments until a driving drum beat begins to pound through the PA system.

“Chapter Doof” by Junkie XL begins to pound through the speakers as the arena slowly becomes bathed in gold light. The eyes of the masses are fixated on the entrance where all things are still… but from beyond the entrance we hear an engine being revved loudly.

Then another.

And another, this one louder than the first two.

The crowd comes alive as, from behind the entrance, a beaten and battered buggy makes its way into the arena. Men hang from the sides of the vehicle, their arms locked around the open windows and the lower portion of their faces hidden with tattered black rags. Their movements are wild and unpredictable and though we can’t see their mouths their eyes let us know that they are here for two reasons – War and Vengeance.

The crimson flag of HATE sticks out from the back of the vehicle with sharpened spikes protruding along the length of the grill and along the center of the hood. It comes to a stop at an angle on the left side of the stage, red smoke billowing from the exhaust as the engine is revved again, the men hanging onto the outside of the vehicle shooting their arms into the air and yelling wildly.

As the engine on the buggy throttles a second vehicle enters on the opposite side of the entrance, a vintage Buick hot rod with more hangers-on along the side of the vehicle. The worn and battered flag of HATE flies on the back of this vehicle as well, which is adorned not with spikes but with a flamethrower atop the hood. As the engine pulses flames shoot from the top of the car as the wildlings attached to the car scream violently with their approval.

For a moment, the two vehicles seem to be competing to see who can make the most noise until, from behind them, we hear the engine of the third vehicle dwarf them.

Emerging from the darkness is a filthy and ramshackle Mack tow truck. There are no hangers-on with this third vehicle. The flag of HATE is much larger and flies high above the vehicle as chains hang along the top, front, and sides – rattling and clanging together as the massive truck rolls forward. The cab is surrounded by spikes similar in nature to the ones protruding from the buggy, but all eyes are on the front of the truck.

A figure writhes, bound and chained, to the grill of the rig. Arms are pinned behind the figure’s back, legs bound to one another. They are pinned back-first against the grill forced to hold their own weight up as the truck rumbles to a stop in the center of the entrance.

As the drums continue to pound vigorously the gold light flooding the entrance cuts out and is replaced by a single spotlight shining on the figure on the front of the vehicle. We now see more of the details of this person enough to know that this gaunt manipulation of a human body is a representation of one Jacob Mephisto.

He squirms and pulls but can not free himself from the grasp of the chains wrapped around his body and around his mouth keeping him from not only moving but making his voice heard. As he continues to writhe another spotlight shoots onto the driver’s side door of the truck and the crowd watches as it is slowly pushed open.

The drum beat stops suddenly and for a brief moment we hear only the noise from the crowd and the rattling of chains as the Imitation Mephisto shakes back and forth.

A hand reaches out to grasp the top of the cab as we hear, over the PA system…

 

…without you…

…i’m nothing…

 

Standing alongside the door to the truck is The Purveyor wearing a ragged leather jacket. He looks across the crowd, the top half of his face still black with ash reminiscent of Empress Furiosa. The ash spreads haphazardly into his bright white hair creating an ombré where the two colors meet. He runs a hand through his hair and leaps down from the truck beginning to slowly walk around to the front of the vehicle. As he does he pauses to make eye contact with the Imposter Mephisto chained to the front of his truck. As the vehicles around him continue to rev their engines, the hot rod blasting fire into the air behind him, NOTHING begins the trek toward the ring.

Both men stand across the ring staring daggers at one another. Referee Juan Cardillo looks to Mephisto to attach his collar, but Mephisto slowly shakes his head, pointing at NOTHING and mouthing “you first.”

MM: Early mind games here from Mephisto.

VA: He’s letting everyone know who’s in control, Malone.

Cardillo shrugs and turns to The Purveyor. NOTHING doesn’t hesitate, reaching down, scooping the collar and wrapping it around his neck. Cardillo assists, fastening the collar around NOTHING’s neck.

Mephisto smirks as the crowd begins to get loud.

Jacob Mephisto: Good boy! You’re learning to obey.

NOTHING charges forward, but Juna Cardillo puts himself between the two, trying to restore order. Mephisto laughs as he motions for the referee to get control of The Purveyor.

VA: Brilliant strategy from Mephisto here. He’s clearly under NOTHING’s skin.

MM: That may come back to haunt him though.

As NOTHING is backed up into his corner, Mephisto holds up his hands in a placating gesture, a wide smile on his face.

Mephisto reaches down, picking up his end of the chain. The crowd boos loudly and Mephisto hesitates for a moment. He lowers the collar from his neck, shaking his head and an aggravated NOTHING charges forward!

But Mephisto is ready, lifting the chain and charging in unexpectedly! He catches the charging NOTHING with the outstretched chain across the throat in a modified clothesline!

VA: Brilliant! Mephisto just suckered him in there, Malone. Now do you see how smart this man is?

MM: It was a smart move, Vince, but we’re just getting started. Technically speaking, this one hasn’t really begun though. Mephisto never attached the collar and the bell never rang!

Mephisto begins to whip NOTHING with the chain, striking over and over, red welts immediately forming on The Purveyor’s body. The crowd boos extremely loudly and Juan Cardillo tries to step in. Mephisto shoves Cardillo away and drops the chain, rounding on the referee!

MM: Oh, man, I don’t know how smart this is!

Mephisto screams into referee Cardillo’s face as Cardillo tries to tell him to put on his collar.

Jacob Mephisto: You have ONE job here Cardillo! Count the pin or record the submission! Otherwise, stay the hell out of my way!

The crowd cheers wildly for a moment and Mephisto, comprehension dawning quickly on his face, whirls around!

VA: Lookout!

Just as Mephisto turns, a charging NOTHING leaps up!

MM: PURE HATE! Oh my god! NOTHING just hit that shining wizard out of nowhere!

VA: But, he can’t cover Mephisto, Malone! Even after that cheap shot! The bell hasn’t rung to start the match!

NOTHING doesn’t seem to mind the lack of an opening bell. He grabs a handful of chain and begins to whip Mephisto over and over and over again, a look of pure elation and enjoyment on his face as the welts begin to appear almost immediately. The crowd lets out a loud cheer with each shot.

MM: This is months of pent up frustration being let out here! NOTHING is taking Mephisto to the woodshed!

VA: Like you said, Malone, we’re just getting started. Don’t count Mephisto out yet!

NOTHING pauses for a moment as Mephisto tries to crawl away, referee Cardillo shouting for NOTHING to back off, or at least attach the collar to Mephisto. NOTHING snatches Mephisto by the hair as the bigger man tries to retreat, stopping him in his tracks. He takes a long look at the crowd before leaning in to Mephisto.

NOTHING: Now… it’s your turn to obey.

The Purveyor wraps the thick, leather collar around Mephisto’s neck, fastening it into place. Cardillo calls for the bell immediately!

 

DING DING DING

 

MM: Well, folks, I guess this one is officially underway now!

VA: What gave you that idea, Malone? Maybe the frigging bell ringing?

NOTHING stalks forward as Mephisto continues to crawl away. Mephisto claws at the collar around his neck, fumbling for the connecting straps, but NOTHING simply JERKS back on the chain, dragging the Heretic back to the canvas. Mephisto turns to face the Purveyor, backing himself into a corner. The crowd comes to a fever pitch as NOTHING stalks Mephisto into the corner.

 

NOTHING’S GONNA KILL YOU!
NOTHING’S GONNA KILL YOU!
NOTHING’S GONNA KILL YOU!

 

MM: This crowd is loving every second of this, Vince! And Mephisto looks terrified!

VA: This crowd is sick, Malone! If the roles were reversed, they’d be booing their heads off! If Mephisto was someone like Grady Smith, NOTHING would be called sick and twisted. Instead, they cheer because they don’t like Mephisto!

MM: Be that as it may, Vince, our job is to stay as objective as possible. Right now, it appears Mephisto is about to get his comeuppance!

NOTHING moves in and begins to drive a series of boots in to the sternum of Mephisto, each shot becoming more and more savage. Cardillo simply backs out of the way, since there’s not a whole lot he can do about it. NOTHING moves away from Mephisto for a moment, soaking in the violence, before charging back in!

MM: OH! Mephisto moved!

VA: He did more than that!

NOTHING charges back in, but Mephisto rolls out of the ring, JERKING forward on the chain as he does, and NOTHING is dragged head and shoulders first into the ringpost on the inside of the ring! The crowd lets out an audible gasp at the impact.

Mephisto takes a few seconds to collect himself on the outside, shaking out the cobwebs and trying to stretch the areas that have been whipped with the chain. He sees NOTHING slumped in the corner still, head just past the post and shoulder still against it. He smirks, pulling on the chain and dragging NOTHING all the way through to the outside. The Purveyor’s body bounces of the apron on the way down and lands with a thud on the mats surrounding the ring.

MM: Oh man, NOTHING might be really hurt here.

VA: Don’t try to backpedal now, Malone. I said it was gonna be the end of NOTHING. And Mephisto is about to show you how it’s done.

Mephisto saunters up to NOTHING, dragging him to his feet using his hair as well as the chain. Mephisto rears back and DRIVES a nasty right hand into NOTHING’s jaw, sending him crumpling back to the floor. The Heretic tosses his head back and laughs.

Jacob Mephisto: Not yet, Purveyor. Not yet.

He reaches down and SLAPS the founder of HATE across the face. Mephisto drags NOTHING back to his feet and hoists him up onto his shoulder, prepared for perhaps a powerslam or a shoulderbreaker.

MM: What’s he going for here?

Mephisto rushes forward and launches NOTHING forward into the ringpost again! This time, NOTHING connects head first, crumpling down in a heap on the floor once again. And again, Mephisto tosses back his head and laughs.

MM: This is just so… deliberate, folks. And NOTHING may be bleeding here.

VA: After a shot like that, he probably has a concussion too, Malone.

Mephisto begins to place methodical, deliberate boots the The Purveyor’s stomach and rib area, delivering stomp after stomp. He picks NOTHING back off the ground, the man only standing with the support of the Heretic, and ROCKETS him forward again, this time into the ringside barricade! The crowd, at this point, isn’t even booing. They’ve going quiet with… worry? Concern? Fear? It’s difficult to gauge.

Mephisto has a smile that stretches from ear to ear. It’s not a pretty sight. He holds his arms out wide for a moment, drinking in the silence. He points at The Purveyor.

Jacob Mephisto: This is what people fear? This is a foundation of the house of HATE? Watch your pillar crumble!

Mephisto turns back toward NOTHING, the smile fading from his face, replaced with a snarling scowl. Mephisto CHARGES forward, bringing his leg up!

MM: Oh my god, NO! Godless against the barric-HE MISSED! NOTHING MOVED!

The crowd lets out a sudden, HUGE cheer as NOTHING just manages to move out of Mephisto’s path! Mephisto, however, extends his leg and connects with the barricade. He immediately clutches his leg in pain and falls to the floor, rolling around in sheer agony!

VA: Holy crap! Even I have to admit, I didn’t see that coming! And Mephisto is DOWN!

MM: He may have jarred his leg, Vince!

NOTHING staggers an drags himself to his feet, blood slowly pouring from an open wound high on his forehead. He moves forward, a glassy, but intense look in his eyes. Mephisto struggles, pushing himself to his knees, favoring his right leg as he tries to stand.

But NOTHING moves forward and drills a low dropkick to Mephisto’s already hurt knee!

The Purveyor staggers back to a standing position again, seemingly getting stronger by the moment. He takes a deep breath, allowing his anger to boil, his HATE to emerge.

As Mephisto attempts to stand again, NOTHING moves in, unleashing a flurry of right and left hands to the cheek and jaw of Mephisto. Mephisto’s head snaps back with every shot.

NOTHING backs away, catching his breath for a moment, looking down at knuckles covered in blood.

The cheering crowd wanes for a moment as the cameras pick up a terrible sound.

MM: That’s just… disturbing.

VA: You ain’t kidding, Malone.

Mephisto, now bleeding underneath one of his eyes and from his lip, is laughing. He motions NOTHING forward as he cackles.

The Purveyor’s face twists with rage and he moves in, but Mephisto EXPLODES forward, turning NOTHING inside out with a huge lariat!

Mephisto gets to his feet again gingerly, shaking his leg out as best he can. He drags NOTHING back up by the hair and rolls him into the ring. The EWA’s resident serpent slithers into the ring after The Purveyor.

MM: Well, we’re back into the ring. That’s a good sign at least.

NOTHING pushes himself up to all fours, but Mephisto brings the chain up in a wide arc, slamming it down across the lower back of the Purveyor. NOTHING pushes himself up again, and this time, Mephisto drops a heavy elbow across the back. He pulls NOTHING up by the chain, wrapping it around the Purveyor’s head.

VA: This looks like it’s gonna be nasty. Pay attention, Malone. This is what happens when you cost Jacob Mephisto something.

Mephisto pulls NOTHING into a front facelock, but then twists him around into a hangman’s position. He drops straight down, jerking the chain as he falls!

MM: Chain-assisted hangman’s neckbreaker! And look, Mephisto’s going for a cover!

Mephisto does, indeed floatover to a lateral press. Referee Cardillo dives into position.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

NOTHING manages to get a shoulder up! Mephisto smirks, shaking his head. He slowly unwraps the chain from around NOTHING’s head, blood sleeping from the Purveyor’s nose and lips now.

MM: It’s going to take a hell of a lot more to put that man away!

NOTHING rolls to all fours again, pushing himself up. And again Mephisto brings the chain down across NOTHING’s lower back.

But, NOTHING pushes himself up yet again. This time, Mephisto leaps up bringing a knee down!

MM: OH! NOTHING moved! Mephisto crashed and burned again!

Mephisto again rolls around clutching the same leg. NOTHING fights to his feet, whirling around and pouncing on Mephisto, raining down fists and elbows. The crowd goes into a frenzy as NOTHING savages the much larger, but downed Mephisto.

VA: Come on, Cardillo! Get in there and stop him!

MM: This is no disqualification, Vince! You know that. Mephisto made it clear to Juan that he was there to count the pin or record a submission. That’s what he’s doing!

NOTHING snatches a handful of hair and manages to drag Mephisto into a front facelock before snapping over with a swinging fisherman’s neckbreaker!

MM: Spineshank! That’s a classic NOTHING maneuver! NOTHING with a cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

NOTHING pulls Mephisto up!

VA: He could’ve had him, Malone! See? This cockiness is gonna cost him!

MM: I don’t know if cockiness is the word, Vince. I think NOTHING is trying to take his time and deliver as much punishment as possible here.

NOTHING begins to wrap the chain around the neck of the now seated Mephisto, blatantly choking the larger man. Referee Cardillo can’t do much about it, but makes a half-hearted plea for NOTHING to break the choke. The Purveyor barely registers that he heard anything and lets Mephisto fall to the canvas again. The crowd’s cheering grows louder as NOTHING gets all the way back to his feet. He gazes out at the sea of humanity here in London, a glazed over look in his eyes.

NOTHING looks back to Mephisto, who has rolled to his stomach and is trying to push himself to his knees, coughing and unwrapping chain from his neck as he does. NOTHING takes a step back, measuring Mephisto, before rushing forward with a basement dropkick to Mephisto’s ribs!

Mephisto drops and tries to roll with the impact, but lets out a breath of pain as he rolls. He pushes himself back up again, and this time NOTHING snatches his hair, bringing him to his feet. NOTHING fires several short blows into Mephisto’s midsection, backing the bigger man to the ropes.

MM: What’s NOTHING got in mind here?

NOTHING backs up again and rushes in, BUT MEPHISTO DUCKS! He back body drops NOTHING up and over, the chain long enough to reach as NOTHING hits the outside floor hard!

MM: A much needed break for Mephisto! But, can he capitalize?

VA: You bet he can, Malone! This is the master of capitalizing on opportunities!

Mephisto struggles a bit, but turns around, slowly wrapping the chain around his arm, pulling it tight. Outside, NOTHING begins to claw at the collar on his neck as the chain tightens and he begins to feel the choke.

MM: Mephisto is returning the favor now! And he’s not letting up!

The crowd boos viciously as Mephisto braces himself and YANKS up on the chain, lifting NOTHING! The Purveyor thrashes around on the outside as Mephisto hangs him with the dog collar! Cardillo is shouting at Mephisto, and finally yanks up enough to drag NOTHING onto the apron. He pulls The Purveyor to his feet, facing the crowd.

VA: What’s Mephisto going to do now?

Mephisto backs up almost the full fifteen feet length of the chain. He RUSHES forward, bringing his knee up and driving it into NOTHING’s lower back. NOTHING lurches forward, but Mephisto snatches NOTHING by the hair, preventing him from falling off the apron. He quickly wraps a length of chain around The Purveyor’s neck transitions himself and drops NOTHING back across the top rope with a neckbreaker! This time, NOTHING snaps forward and falls face-first off the apron to the floor below!

MM: OH! Mephisto could have broken NOTHING’s neck right there!

VA: He calls that The End of Faith, Malone! And that may have been the end of Prudence Collins!

Mephisto makes the effort to go up and over the top rope, preventing the chain of the collar from getting tangled as he makes his way to the outside. He drags NOTHING to his feet before booting him in the stomach and positioning him in a standing headscissors.

MM: I think he’s looking for a powerbomb on the outside. Don’t do it!

Mephisto hoists NOTHING up and DRIVES him into the outside mats with a thunderous powerbomb. He glares down at The Purveyor. And then, Mephisto begins to rip and tear at the mats on the floor, taking minute to expose the concrete underneath! The crowd lets out a LOUD boo as Mephisto begins to smile.

MM: Oh no! No! Not on the concrete. Come on, man!

VA: This is what NOTHING wanted, Malone! You know what they say… be careful what you wish for!

Mephisto drags NOTHING back to his feet, positioning him for another powerbomb. Mephisto pulls NOTHING up again, but, as NOTHING is pulled up, he quickly wraps the chain around Mephisto’s neck! Mephisto begins to drive NOTHING down, but NOTHING tightens the chain around the neck, slowing the progress. Half way down, he manages to halt the progress, and NOTHING is able to slide his legs off Mephisto’s shoulders. NOTHING holds on tight to the chain around Mephisto’s neck, but Mephisto shoves forward, driving NOTHING into the ringside barricade! NOTHING lets go of the chain and Mephisto DRIVES a huge right hand into The Purveyor’s jaw!

Mephisto snatches NOTHING by his hair and drags him off the barricade. He rears back and drives another right hand to NOTHING’s jaw before booting him in the stomach again. He positions him for another powerbomb. He lifts NOTHING again, but again NOTHING wraps the chain around Mephisto’s neck!

MM: And that’s twice NOTHING has prevented that powerbomb! What great presence of mind by the Purveyor!

NOTHING again twists free of the powerbomb and Mephisto swings again, but NOTHING ducks and kicks Mephisto low!

VA: What a dirty cheap shot!

The crowd cheers wildly as NOTHING sets Mephisto into a standing headscissors! He snatches Mephisto by the tights, pulling him up and DRIVING Mephisto head first into the concrete with a pulling piledriver!

MM: What a maneuver! That may be the momentum changer that NOTHING needs here!

NOTHING staggers to his feet, a wild look in his eyes. He hops onto the ring apron, slowly ascending the turnbuckles to the top rope. The crowd unleashes a huge cheer as NOTHING stands, extending the chain to its full length. He LEAPS from the top, flipping in the air with a swanton bomb!

MM: Suicide Bomb! NOTHING just tried to drive Mephisto right through the floor!

The crowd is in a frenzy, cheering wildly!

HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!

NOTHING rolls away from Mephisto on the outside, clutching his ribs. He struggles to his feet, still clutching at his ribs. He grabs Mephisto by his hair, dragging him up to his feet and rolling him into the ring. NOTHING follows him in moving to a corner and climbing to the top rope. He stands there, measuring Mephisto as The Heretic begins to stagger to his feet. Mephisto turns slowly, bleeding from his cheek underneath his eye as well as from his nose and mouth.

MM: Looks like NOTHING is setting up for Darkness Falls!

NOTHING dives off the top, looking to connect with the diamond dust!

VA: BLACK MIST! Mephisto just spewed that black liquid into NOTHING’s eyes!

NOTHING takes the blast of black fluid directly in his eyes, crashing and burning to the canvas while clutching his face. Mephisto staggers backward for a moment, but moves forward, dragging NOTHING to his feet and hoisting him up into a fireman’s carry position. He shrugs NOTHING up and over dropping back and bringing his knees up, connecting with a lungblower!

MM: Abandon All Hope!

VA: About time you started believing, Malone!

MM: That’s what Mephisto calls that lungblower variation, Vince. You know that as well as I do!

Mephisto gets to his feet again, tossing his head back and unleashing a violent roar! He takes off full speed, hitting the ropes as NOTHING sits up.

MM: GODLESS! Mephisto hit it!

VA: That’s it! The end of NOTHING!

Mephisto immediately drops down for the cover! Cardillo is right there!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE-NO!!!

 

VA: WHAT!?

MM: NOTHING kicked out!

Mephisto rolls away, clutching his hair, his eyes wide with frustration and anger and… fear? He scrambles to his feet, reaching down and dragging NOTHING to his feet. He Irish whips NOTHING towards the far ropes, but snatches him back in using the chain and DRIVES The Purveyor to the canvas with a short arm clothesline!

MM: Pride Before the Fall! Mephisto covers again!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-NO! NOTHING kicks out again!

 

Mephisto rolls away frustrated, slapping the mat and glaring at NOTHING. He climbs to his feet again, moving forward and grabbing NOTHING by the legs, dragging him toward the center of the ring. He wraps NOTHING’s legs, attempting to turn him into that high angle cloverleaf, but NOTHING starts kicking and thrashing his legs. Mephisto drops NOTHING and takes a few steps back. He stalks forward as the Purveyor crawls towards the ropes, grabbing the bottom rope and trying to pull himself up.

Mephisto begins wrapping the length of chain around his hand and arm, slowly tightening as NOTHING pulls himself up to his feet. Mephisto JERKS forward on the chain, spinning NOTHING around and bringing him in!

MM: OH! PURE HATE! PURE HATE! OUT OF NOWHERE!

NOTHING connects with that shining wizard, absolutely dropping Mephisto. Both men lay on the canvas breathing heavy and exhausted. Cardillo checks on both men, but does not begin a count. After a few moments, both men stir, Mephisto lifting his head, displaying a new gash under his other eye bleeding profusely. NOTHING pushes himself to his feet, slowly wrapping the chain around his knee until only about 6 feet of chain separate the two. He charges forward, but Mephisto rolls out of the way!

VA: Not this time! Mephisto moves.

Mephisto watches NOTHING collapse, the chain wrapped around his knee. Mephisto moves backwards the length of the chain and charges forward!

VA: Mephisto looking for Godless again!

NOTHING bursts forward!

MM: OH MY! PURE HATE! AGAIN! This time with a chain wrapped around the knee!

The crowd lets out a massive cheer as NOTHING connects and Mephisto hits the canvas! NOTHING scratches as claws forward shaking his knee out and covering Mephisto, hooking the leg! Referee Cardillo is in position!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

LIGHTS. OUT.

 

The arena is plunged into darkness, the crowd buzzing angrily.

MM: Oh, what NOW?

VA: I have no idea, Malone!

The lights begin to strobe blood red violently for a brief moment before going back to normal. The crowd goes silent for a brief moment. Standing in the ring is a behemoth of a man.

MM: Oh. My. God. Vince, do you have any idea who that is?

VA: Last I heard, he was broken, Malone.

In the ring, the huge man stalks forward, murder in his eyes. This monster of a man, this manster. Or, as some have called him, a rage-fueled, planet-sized monster.

MM: That’s Sammy Rochester!!!

NOTHING rolls off Mephisto, confused. He turns to face Sammy Rochester, staring at him through a crimson mask. The Purveyor staggers to his feet as Sammy charges forward, LEVELING NOTHING with a huge lariat!!

MM: What the hell is going on here?

VA: Mephisto said he was unleashing a monster here in London! Sammy Rochester has arrived!

Sammy drags NOTHING to his feet and smashes his own head into NOTHING’s face over and over and over again! He finally SNATCHES The Purveyor by the back of his neck and HOISTS him into the air above his head, over seven feet high. Sammy DRIVES NOTHING into the canvas with a reverse chokeslams!

The seven foot-plus behemoth reaches down and snatches NOTHING by the back of the neck again, effortlessly hoisting him back up and DRIVING NOTHING into the canvas face-first again! Sammy kicks NOTHING over to his back and drags him closer to the center of the ring.

MM: What’s he doing here?

Sammy grabs Mephisto and, with one arm, effortlessly drags him forward, placing his unconscious form on top of NOTHING. The manster whirls around to Cardillo.

Sammy Rochester: FUCKING COUNT!

Cardillo, clearly terrified, drops down into position.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

MM: No!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

MM: Not like this!

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

DING DING DING!

 

VA: Mephisto did it!

The bell sounds and the crowd, coming out of a stunned silence, begins to unleash a torrent of boos.

NR: Here is your winner, Jacob MEPHISTO!

The Rolling Stones classic begins to play again, but Mephisto doesn’t move. From somewhere off camera, three figures slide into the ring.

MM: That’s Sean Boden and Kharrion! What are they doing?

VA: The cavalry has arrived, Malone! They never interfered. They’re here to help Mephisto!

Boden takes a brief moment to hold up his hands in a placating gesture towards Sammy, before dropping down and unhooking the collar from Mephisto’s neck. Kharrion and Boden roll Mephisto out of the ring, attempting to help him stand, but Mephisto crumples to the ground outside. Sammy steps over the top rope, dropping to the floor and clearing the immediate area around Mephisto before effortlessly scooping him up over his shoulder. The group begins to walk back up the entrance ramp as medical officials rush toward the ring to try and attend to NOTHING, who has begun to stir.

MM: Jacob Mephisto stole one tonight, Vince! And he’s got Sammy Rochester to thank for it!

VA: Hey, it was no disqualification, Malone. He got the job done.

As Pariah and Kharrion reach the top of the ramp, they turn, Sammy putting Mephisto down, Boden helping hold Mephisto up. Mephisto opens his eyes wearily and smirks down at NOTHING through a face full of blood. In The ring, NOTHING lifts his head, glaring daggers up the ramp. Mephisto slowly raises his arm, but begins to collapse, but Sammy catches him, scooping him back up and carrying him to the back.

MM: I thought this would be the end, but clearly nothing has been settled here tonight.

VA: We’ll see about that, Malone. And just think, we’re just getting started!

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: JACOB MEPHISTO (17:38)


(We’re backstage where we see official Rick Iley going over some notes and the fans are cheering for a fellow brit, when suddenly a hand slaps on his shoulder, Rick turns quickly…. to see his cousin, the brilliantly technical, technically brilliant John Iley stood there.

We hear the crowd give an even bigger cheer as Rick seems to relax.)

Rick Iley: For christs sake John, scare the shit out of me next time why don’t you?

John Iley: Haway man, I’m just testing your reflexes, making sure you’re on your toes, you know? Big night here at the O2!

(Rick shrugs and raises his fist to which John fists bumps back.)

Rick Iley: Aye I suppose, but you did hear about the phone call I got didn’t you?

(John suddenly seems agitated and looks to be trying to maintain his composure.)

John Iley: Yeah I did actually, from Hank? Yeah, I saw that, heard the… the COMMENTS made, yeah, yeah I heard them!

Rick Iley: I’ll be honest, I don’t know what’ll happen if..

(John cuts him off.)

John Iley: If you do your job? If you do what’s asked of you here in the EWA? Rick I’ve watched you since day one! And I’ll be honest, I’ve questioned some of your decisions but I’ve never seen you show bias to anyone! If you’re refereeing that particular match tonight, which I hope you are, you do your job and call it as you see it! Don’t let anyone like Hank threaten you into doing something you shouldn’t! If he want’s to have a go at me for what you do, let him! I can handle myself, I don’t wrestle anymore but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight!

(Rick sighs and nods.)

Rick Iley: I know that, but he’s whacko! I don’t want anyone hurt, especially my own family!

(John just shakes his head.)

John Iley: Rick, do your job, do it the way YOU do it. Don’t let anyone dictate to you how you do the job you’re trained to do and you do it VERY well! If Hank has a problem, then that’s what it is, HIS problem, not yours! As I’ve said, you do a great job here in EWA and I’m proud of you. Now go do what you do, alright?

(Rick just nods slowly.)

Rick Iley: Sure, I’ll see you around, say hi to the folks too just incase I don’t get the chance to head up home!

John Iley: You got it cuz!

(They fist bump once more then bro (or should that be cousin) hug and Rick heads off. Once he’s out of sight John lets out a huge sigh!)

John Iley: I hope he’s going to be alright out there.

(John heads off his own way as we cut back to ringside.)


ALEXANDER HAVEN VS INDRID CALDER

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

Crowd: ONE FALL!

 

HAIL TO THE KING
HAIL TO THE ONE
KNEEL TO THE CROWN
STAND IN THE SUN
HAIL TO THE KING!

 

VA: It’s time for The Stranger’s execution, Malone!

The lights go out, and a lone spotlight shines down on the stage, as Alexander Haven stands at the top of the ramp, back to the ring, arms spread out. Haven has a new ring jacket, with his name spelled out in stylized font. Alyssa Marie Haven slips out from his front, standing with a sneer on her face and a hand on her hip before Haven whips around, walking arm in arm with her toward the ring as ‘Hail to the King’ blasts through the arena.

NR: Introducing first! He is accompanied to the ring by the Chief Operating Officer of the EWA, Alyssa Marie Haven, and is a member of the Three Kings of professional wrestling. From Buffalo, New York, weighing in at 245 pounds, the majority owner of the EWA…ALEXANDER…HAVEN!!

MM: That’s certainly a mouthful for Nikki Rogers there.

VA: Malone, I don’t know what you’re implying, but Alexander Haven is a happily married man, and a one woman man at that. Why would he mess around on Alyssa Marie?

MM: What in the hell are you talk–oh. You’re an idiot.

Haven steps through the ropes, as pillars of flame burst from the four turnbuckles. He walks over, standing on the middle rope and pointing out into the crowd, yelling at some of the British fans. A loud chant begins to form, quickly overshadowing the music…

“FUCK YOU HA-VEN!
CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!
FUCK YOU HA-VEN!
CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!
FUCK YOU HA-VEN!
CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!”

MM: Alexander Haven’s clearly fired up tonight, as he steps into the ring with the Stranger of HATE himself, Indrid Calder.

VA: Of course he’s fired up, Malone. Calder’s the reason Alex isn’t the EWA World Heavyweight Champion right now as we speak! It should be Haven defending the championship tonight in our main event, but that ungrateful little worm Chris Kage had to interfere in the Asylum match, and then conspired with Calder to have Haven eliminated! You’d be fired up too!

MM: And as we’ve learned, Calder holds Haven at least partially responsible for the heinous belt attack on his fellow HATE pillar, Maggie McIntyre, by Haven’s fellow 3K member, Michael Draven. It still feels strange to mention those two as being united in any way, Vince.

VA: Indeed it do–hey, what the hell!?

Inside the ring, a shadowy figure has slipped in behind Haven, barely visible through the strobing lights. As ‘Hail to the King’ continues, Haven hops off the ropes, and right as he turns around, is met with a hard right hand from the shadow, dropping him straight to the mat! Alyssa Marie shrieks, stepping forward, but the shadow whips around, startling her so badly that she falls right on her rear!

VA: Throw that fan out!

As Alyssa tugs at her dress – trying to avoid flashing the fans at ringside – and scoots backwards to the safety of the ropes, the lights come back up, revealing to the world what Alyssa has already seen…

MM: INDRID CALDER IS IN THE RING!

VA: This is not fair, Malone!

Calder turns back to Haven, laying a flurry of boots into the side of the majority owner as referee David Tucker calls for the bell!

VA: That idiot referee just started the match and Haven wasn’t even ready!

MM: Look at the fury in Calder’s eyes! This is not something we’ve seen from him before!

Indeed, the usually emotionless Calder has a mask of anger plastered on his face as he drags Haven to his feet, whipping him across the ring and into the turnbuckle! The force from the impact sends Haven careening back toward Calder, who quickly lays Haven out with a slingblade! Calder quickly drops down for the cover!

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

Haven kicks out!

VA: If Indrid Calder thinks that’s all it’ll take to put away Alexander Haven, he’s out of his damn mind, Malone!

MM: I would tend to agree with you there, but nonetheless, Calder is in complete control in the onset of this match!

Calder springs to his feet, retreating into the corner as Haven struggles to get to his knees. Calder sees the right moment, and races toward Haven…

MM: He’s looking to put Haven away with For The Horseman!

VA: Move, Alex! MOVE!

…but Haven’s one step ahead, and in a repeat of Asylum de los Muertos, lifts his body up just as Calder leaps into the air – the force of which sends Calder flying higher into the air, and once again, Haven catches Calder on his shoulders!

VA: INCREDIBLE, Malone! INCREDIBLE!

Haven, with a smirk on his face, lifts Calder once again for the Fall From Glory, just as he did in Mexico City last month…but Calder flips out of it this time, racing toward the ropes, and delivers a smashing forearm that rocks the owner of the company, sending him sprawling through the ropes and to the outside of the ring!

MM: The Stranger has taken the fight to Alexander Haven in a big way here in London!

VA: I’m not worried, Malone. Alexander Haven is a mastermind, I’m sure he’s got more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

And as Calder exits the ring and heads over to the EWA owner, Haven demonstrates one of those tricks, gouging the eye of Calder, which sends him sprawling backward. Haven immediately capitalizes, grabbing Calder and whipping him shoulder first into the steel steps on the outside! The London crowd boos as Haven takes a moment to jaw with an overzealous fan in the front row, before turning his attention back to Calder, again sending him flying with an irish whip, but this time into the steel guardrail on the outside. Referee David Tucker reaches four on his ten count, as Haven drags Calder to his feet, lifting him up in the air and dropping him throat first across the guardrail!

MM: He could’ve crushed the man’s larnyx with that one!

VA: He could’ve and I hope he did, Malone! Calder has some nerve stepping up to the king of the EWA like this! Did he forget what happened in the Final Solution last fall?

Haven grabs Calder, throwing him back into the ring and positioning his head over the apron, before driving an elbow straight into the Stranger’s throat. Calder begins coughing, rolling back in the ring as Haven laughs, before climbing back into the ring himself. The owner stalks Calder, moving toward him and –

MM: SMALL PACKAGE FROM CALDER!!

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

TH–HAVEN KICKS OUT!!

 

Both men spring up, and Haven rushes Calder, but the Stranger ducks a clothesline attempt. Calder turns, kicking Haven in the stomach, and applies a front facelock, going for a DDT, but Haven wildly drives him backwards, and directly into referee David Tucker, who crumples to the mat!

MM: And now the referee is down!

VA: It’s David Tucker, Malone. I think he’s officiated like three matches in his life. The moron should’ve gotten out of the way!

Almost instantly, Alyssa Marie Haven storms away from the ring apron, yelling and pointing at ring announcer Nikki Rogers. Nikki steps up out of her chair, and Alyssa Marie snatches it away, slamming the chair shut and sliding it into the ring as both men struggle to get to their feet after the collision.

MM: This is ridiculous, ladies and gentlemen. The Chief Operating Officer of the EWA is handing a competitor a steel chair!

VA: Not just any competitor, Malone. Her husband, Alexander Haven, the king of the EWA! Your boss, might I remind you!

MM: And you don’t see something wrong with this picture?

VA: Absolutely not, Malone. Win at all costs. That’s how a king rules his kingdom.

Haven picks up the chair, winking down at Alyssa, and walks over to Calder…but as Haven lifts the chair high in the air, Calder delivers a blow of his own – an uppercut straight to Haven’s family jewels!

VA: Disqualify him, referee! That’s a low blow! This is an outrage! Someone do something!

MM: (sighs)

Haven slumps to the mat, dropping the chair below him, and Calder takes off like a banshee – no pun intended – racing toward the ropes and leaping into the air…

MM: FOR THE HORSEMAN! HE JUST DROVE HAVEN’S HEAD INTO THAT STEEL CHAIR!!

Calder hooks Haven’s leg as David Tucker crawls into position, slowly making the count…

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

NR: Here is your winner…INDRID…CALDER!!!

MM: What an incredible victory for Indrid Calder!

VA: This is awful!!

Calder rolls out of the ring, heading toward the back, as Alyssa, furious, lets out a high-pitched scream before climbing into the ring to check on Alexander Haven. The crowd roars in approval at the finish, but Calder doesn’t acknowledge the cheers, instead heading back through the curtain.

MM: Folks, there’s still much more to come tonight at Live From London, here at the O2 Arena!

Haven, holding his head, leaves the ring, a furious Alyssa Marie stomping behind him as they leave through the curtain.

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: INDRID CALDER (7:54)


MM: Coming up next, we have the debut of Ethan Leers, taking on Joe Lemon in–

(Before Malone can say another word, the pounding guitar of Amon Amarth’s “Predictions of Warfare” explodes through the arena. The crowd isn’t quite sure how to react.)

VA: Who’s coming out now?

MM: I don’t know, Vince, I’m not familiar with…

(The crowd explodes with cheers as DSI’s own Ryan Cuddihy steps through the curtain! The 7-footer has his long blond hair tied back in a braid, with small braids in his long beard tied off with beads, and a slate-gray suit with a deep green tie. He carries a set of papers in his hand, and he stands at the entrance, surveying the crowd and basking slightly in their adoration, before walking toward the ring with a purpose.)

MM: Former SHOOT Project Tag Team Champion with Greg Allocca, former NYSWF Tag Team Champion, Ryan Cuddihy is here in London, Vince!

VA: And I have an idea why, Malone. After the unfortunate events that transpired with DSI, I can’t imagine he’s too pleased with his former co-champion.

MM: He definitely doesn’t look it, Ashe.

(He climbs the steel steps, stepping over the top rope and into the ring, and he takes a microphone from the timekeeper. He stands dead center of the ring, looking toward the entrance.)

Ryan Cuddihy: You know, when I left SHOOT Project, I swore that I would never get back into the ring again. I had had enough of this industry… the sniping, the petty politics, the absolute bullshit that goes along with being in between these ropes…

But for this? For this, I’ll gladly come back. I can’t sit back and accept this. Sean, you miserable little shit, get out here.

(Silence. Ryan looks down the ramp again, his face getting more agitated. He starts to pace around the ring.)

I know you’re here, Boden, don’t play these fucking games with me, get the fuck out here and face me, man to man!

(Still nothing. Ryan is getting visibly upset now.)

Fine, you don’t want to come out? I’ll just talk.

(He raises his hand, the papers held high.)

You see this? What I have in my hand right here, is a contract, signing all of DSI, my share and Cynthia’s, to you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what this whole thing has been about, right? You want your company back so–

(The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes” comes over the PA, and the crowd rains boos down on the former Network Champion. He steps out onto the entranceway, without the usual pomp and circumstance, microphone already in hand.)

Oh, so that got your attention, huh?

Sean Boden: So let me get this straight. You and Cynthia are going to sign the company over to me, just like that?

Ryan Cuddihy: Fuck no, it’s not that simple. But I’m not saying another word about it until you’re standing in this ring in front of me.

(Boden smirks, walking down the aisle, keeping an eye out for any hidden threats.)

Oh, don’t you fucking look around all suspiciously. I’m not you, douchebag, if I’m gonna hurt you it’s gonna be me and me alone. Your kind of bullshit sneak attack tactics are fucking below me.

(Boden raises an eyebrow as he climbs the steps, and into the ring. He steps up to Ryan, an entire foot shorter, and reaches for the papers. Ryan pulls them away.)

Sean Boden: OK, you got me here. Are you going to tell me what the catch is?

Ryan Cuddihy: Like I said, this contract will sign all of DSI over to you and you alone, since, after all, you killed the only other majority partner–

Sean Boden: Look, that was self-defense. It was–

Ryan Cuddihy: Can it. I know you well enough to know the truth. As I was saying, you get the whole thing, under one condition.

(Ryan doesn’t say another word, just standing with his arms crossed. Boden looks up at him, expectantly.)

Sean Boden: …and that condition is…?

Ryan Cuddihy: At Champions Summit III in July. You. Me. A cell. Winner takes all.

Sean Boden: That’s it? A match? No other catches?

Ryan Cuddihy: You want I should just give this to your new legal counsel? I’m sure I can pull him out of his rat hole.

(He turns a few pages in, and flashes the last page in his face.)

See? Cynthia’s already signed it. Right there. Cynthia Marx.

Sean Boden: Ryan, let me offer you some advice. Take that contract, and tear it up now, before I sign it. As an old friend. Because you and I both know, there’s absolutely no way you’re going to beat me. You’ve never… NEVER been able to before, and honestly, at your age, after all those years out of the ring… with the ravages of time showing in your knees…

Ryan Cuddihy: Spare me the sob story, Sean. You are not my friend. You will never be my friend. I’m at the point where I’m not entirely sure you ever were my friend, and quite frankly, even if I lose, if it meant I never have to deal with you again, I’d sign this contract twice.

Sean Boden: Fine. It’s your funeral.

(Ryan swings, stopping just short of hitting Boden in the face. Boden laughs.)

Oh, too soon?

(Boden swipes the contract out of Ryan’s hands, chuckling. He grabs the pen from Ryan’s lapel pocket, quickly putting signature to paper. He presses the pages to Ryan’s chest.)

Sean Boden: Here you go, big man. Champions Summit. I can’t wait to humiliate you in that cell.

(He goes to turn around, but Ryan grabs his wrist, holding him in the middle of the ring.)

Ryan Cuddihy: Oh, but that’s the thing, Boden. By the time you get into that cell, you’ll have already lost. Then again… you should know better than anyone, you’ve already lost two of these matches.

(Boden looks up at him, confused, until a light bulb comes on in his head, and his confusion is replaced with rage.)

Oh, you figured it out? That’s right. At Champions Summit 3, you will get to participate in your record third Human Torch match. Only this time, I won’t be there to pull you out of the wreckage.

Sean Boden: You son of a bitch! You–

(Ryan doesn’t give him a chance to speak again, pulling him into Canadian backbreaker! He drops down to his knee, hard, and Boden slams against Ryan’s shoulder! He tosses Boden to the mat, and Boden clutches his back in pain!)

Ryan Cuddihy: Good luck tonight, bitch.

(“Predictions of Warfare” starts up again as Ryan steps over the top rope, contract in hand, and heads down the aisle to the back!)

MM: Oh my god! Ladies and gentlemen, a Human Torch match…I never thought I’d see it again!

VA: Malone, this is serious. Jason Phoenix. Dropkick Murphy. Crimson Kidd. Even Boden himself… this match has ended an average of one career every time is been used.

MM: How could I forget? It’ll be Sean Boden and the formerly retired Ryan Cuddihy at Champions Summit III in a Human Torch match…that’s…wow. I’m speechless, and I genuinely hope for their safety in that match.

VA: I don’t. I want to see violence.

MM: (sighs) Let’s go up to the ring!


JOE LEMON VS ETHAN LEERS

NR: Ladies and gentleman, our next contest is scheduled for one fall!

Crowd: ONE FALL!

LEM-LEM
LEM-LEM
LEMONADE!

The O2 Arena crowd explodes with cheers as “Lemonade” by Alex Boye’ pumps through the speakers and Joe Lemon steps onto the entrance stage as the lights pulse a tart lemony yellow!

MM: Listen to this reaction! The most refreshing man on earth has arrived in London!

NR: Introducing first, from Lemon City! He weighs in at a refreshing and delicious two hundred and forty pounds! Here is JOE LEMON!!!

Joe matches his way to the ring, rolling in under the bottom rope. He pulls a fresh lemon from his rights and bites right into it as the crowd cheers!

The music fades and the harsh sound of guitars bursts through the speakers.

NR: And, his opponent!

As the ripping guitar riff of “Fuck Everything” by Suicide Silence kicks in, Ethan Leers emerges from the back wearing black cargo shorts, black wrestling boots, a black jersey that says “FUCK YOU” in big white letters, and a black hat that says “CUNT” in big white letters. He looks at the crowd, utter disgust on his face, and he spits at the ground. As the crowd boos at his disgust at them, he walks to the ring, cracking his knuckles and neck.

NR: Hailing from Columbus, Ohio and weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds… ETHAN LEERS!!!

MM: This man has had quite a bit to say leading up to his debut, but his attitude is a bit lacking. He’s been highly disrespectful.

VA: You think he cares, Malone? He’s here to hurt and be hurt. We’re about to see Ethan Leers go to work tonight in London!

As Ethan reaches the ring, he jogs up the steps very quickly and turns around. He again looks at the crowd with his look of disgust and flips off the entire crowd, laughing at their boos. He quickly turns around and steps in between the top and middle rope. He takes off his jersey and hat, throws them to the outside of the ring, but definitely avoids throwing them far enough for fans to get. He stretches in the corner, a shit-eating grin on his face, loving every moment of the boos and jeers.

The music fades and the referee calls for the bell!

Leers charges forward immediately, bringing up his boot and SMASHING into Lemon’s face with a running yakuza kick! Lemon snaps back, hitting the canvas hard. Leers wastes no time, pouncing down and delivering a series of wild and absolutely nasty haymaker as referee Rick Iley steps in and shouts for him to open up the fists.

MM: And Leers just came out with a resounding statement! He’s all over Joe Lemon, but come on, Rick! Get in there and break that up!

VA: Would you want to get in the way of those shots, Malone? Leers is making a point right now!

Iley gets to four on his count and Ethan rolls away, only to pounce again, firing several more shots to Lemon before bringing him to his feet. Ethan hits the ropes, coming of with a nasty high knee, sending Lemon back to the canvas. Leers begins to stalk Lemon.

MM: What’s he looking for here?

Leers rushes forward and Lemon is doubled over and leaps up, bringing both of his knees down across Joe’s back and DRIVING him straight into the canvas.

VA: OH! I heard that’s called the REAL Backbreaker, Malone! This one’s over!

MM: Or is it? What’s Leers doing? He just rolled out of the ring!

Outside, Leers has reached underneath the ring and draws out a long, glass light tube. The crowd boos loudly as he rolls into the ring, coming to his feet with the tube held like a baseball bat. Iley jumps in front of Ethan shouting at him to put it down.

MM: What the hell is he doing?!

Leers shoves Iley out of the way and swings for the fences, shattering the across the back of Lemon’s head! Rick Iley immediately calls for the bell, but Leers dives down and continues to deliver violent and vicious shots to Joe Lemon!

MM: That’s despicable!

VA: Call it what you want, Malone! I call it a statement!

EWA officials storm the ring as Leers finally rolls away, rolling out of the ring and giving them all the finger as he backs up the aisle with a smile on his face.

NR: The winner of this match as a result of a disqualification… Joe LEMON!

VA: He doesn’t look like a winner to me, Malone!

MM: What a horrendous display from the newcomer here tonight. Joe Lemon gets the official victory, but Ethan Leers just made an ultraviolent statement!

YOUR WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION: JOE LEMON (1:59)


(We fade backstage, and are greeted with a view of the Right Hand of Grace, Sahara, the former EWA Combat Champion. The London crowd immediately breaks out into a chorus of booing at her appearance on the jumbotron as she pulls her kneepad up over her boot and slides it over her knee. She looks up, presumably in the vicinity of the doorway, and a bit of a smile crosses her face.)

Sahara: You ready for tonight?

(Michael Draven steps into view, setting off a new flurry of boos as he leans against the locker, looking down at the Crimson Queen.)

Michael Draven: As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.

Sahara: Relax, Michael. You’re gonna beat the shit out of that stupid bitch and give her the payback she deserves. Oh, before I forget, I’m glad you stopped in! You left something back at the hotel, so I made sure to grab it for you, cause I know yer gonna want it for tonight.

(Sahara turns, rummaging through a duffel bag for a moment, a look of concern on her face for a moment. The frown quickly gives way to a devious smirk as she pulls her hand out of the bag, and offers the item to Draven…

…the belt that he attacked Maggie McIntyre with weeks ago.)

Sahara: Wrap this around that bitch’s neck and finish it.

(Draven remains silent, regarding her for a moment, and then slowly takes the belt from her.)

Michael Draven: Good luck tonight.

(He leans down, kissing her on the top of the head.)

Sahara: Meh, it’s Natalie.

(Draven turns to leave, and Sahara hesitates before calling out to him.)

Sahara: Hey…Michael?

(Draven turns around, as Sahara stands up, fidgeting with her hands while trying to get her words out.)

Sahara: Listen, I, uh…I haven’t thanked you, ya know? For helpin’ me out with Grace, and for giving me a place to stay…it means a lot, you know?

(She paused a second, as if reflecting on all that’s happened between them.)

Sahara: Like…I know most people don’t like me, and I’m mostly cool with that, and I know I can be a bit of a pain in the ass and things have been tough…and I know I’m not always the ideal housemate or–

(Draven suddenly cuts her off with a long kiss, her eyes growing wide by the surprise. A moment passes, and they break the embrace.)

Michael Draven: Kick some ass tonight, Lauren.

(As he goes to leave, she doesn’t release his hand and stands up for a moment…)

Sahara: I’ll see you after the show…

(She leans in for another kiss. Draven smiles at her afterward, and without another word, he turns and walks out of the locker room. A small smile crosses Sahara’s face as she sits back down to continue preparations for her match with Natalie Burrows later tonight. Fade to ringside.)


NIKKI CALDWELL VS RACHEL ELLSWORTH

RETURN MATCH

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

Crowd: ONE FALL!

MM: Our next match is a special return match starts off with two very talented women who debuted at Battlelines 28!!

VA: Jesus, we have to see these two face off again? I mean, yeah the rookie got lucky last time, but why do we have to see this again?

MM: Because the rookie got lucky, Vince.

NR: Introducing first, weighing in at 151 pounds and hailing from Cochranton, Pennsylvania…”The Atomic Redhead”… RACHEL ELLSWORTH!!

LOOK ALIVE, SUNSHINE!

The overhead lights dim as spotlights in shades of orange and red swirl over the crowd, the monologue of Doctor Death-Defying laying itself velvet-smooth over the building of ambient noise that may or may not have been piped from some sort of high-tech future world. As it gathers momentum, the energy in the arena builds, cheers rising up to fill the air in anticipation of the woman that’s about to come out.

LISTEN UP – THE FUTURE IS BULLETPROOF!
THE AFTERMATH IS SECONDARY!
IT’S TIME TO DO IT NOW AND DO IT PROUD…
KILLJOYS, MAKE SOME NOISE!

As ‘Na Na Na’ by My Chemical Romance properly starts, the Atomic Redhead all but zooms out from behind the curtain, energy levels turned all the way up to eleven as she scampers from one side of the stage to the other. She doesn’t linger on the stage for long, instead choosing to run down the ramp. If she remembers to reach out and smack the hands of the fans, then hey neat. If not? No biggie–as soon as she slides beneath the bottom rope and pops up to her feet? She’s making a couple laps of the ring, almost poinging like a ferret during a war dance before finally settling in her corner, the music fading as she does a rudimentary stretch or two.

VA: She’s like…a weasel on meth or something. Just watching her makes me feel exhausted.

NR: And her opponent, weighing in at 147 pounds and hailing from Los Angeles, California…NIKKI CALDWELL!!

ANYBODY TELL YOU I’M A FIGHTER?

The guitar riff of Sumo Cyco’s “Fighter” winds up and erupts over the arena, met with a burst of multicolored lights.

WANNA START A FIRE, I’M THE LIGHTER.
THINK YOU BURN BRIGHT? I BURN BRIGHTER.
NEVER TIRE!
DID THEY TELL YOU I’M A FIGHTER?

Nikki Caldwell charges onto the stage, pausing at the top of the ramp where she hops a couple times and rolls out her neck, wrists, and shoulders. The rookie wears a new garment this week, a long red and black leather jacket, cut to look like battle armor! The crowd pops at her appearance, hooting and hollering as she runs down the ring and three quarters of the way around it, sliding into the ring and stepping up on the bottom and center ropes, raising her fists and yelling.

VA: What the hell is that? She looks like she just stepped off the set of Mad Max or something.

MM: I don’t know, but I’m sure the fans will remember who she is after tonight with a look like that!

She jumps down, finding her corner and takes a few deep breaths before sliding the ring jacket carefully off her frame and folds it to be handed off to a ring attendant.

Both women women are quickly checked over by Referee Juan Cardillo before he calls for the bell and the re-match is underway.

MM: And here we go!

Rachel walks to the center of the ring and waves Nikki over, daring the rookie to meet her head on again. Nikki doesn’t disappoint and walks to the center of the ring, meeting Rachel’s stare with a small smile. The Atomic Redhead breaks the gaze first looking away briefly before firing a hard right hand with a closed fist that catches Nikki in the jaw. The rookie is rocked back as Cardillo steps in and warns Rachel about using a clenched fist.

MM: Juan Cardillo giving the Atomic Redhead a warning about that closed fist!

VA: Damn, I like her even more now. Do it again!

MM: It doesn’t matter what she uses, Nikki’s coming after her again!

Nikki is quickly back up and ready, charging towards Ellsworth. The two women lock up, but Rachel soon gets the upper hand and sends Nikki down with a push. Caldwell soon manages to get back to her feet, proving she’s not going to let anything keep her down and throws an arm, catching Rachel square in the breadbasket. Rachel holds her stomach in pain as the rookie moves and locks the Atomic Redhead in a side headlock. Rachel struggles, trying to break free.

MM: Rachel looks like she is fading fast from that lack of air!

VA: That’s what happens when you make a rookie mistake.

MM: She got caught like this last time, Vince!

Referee Juan Cardillo checks Rachel to see if she’s still awake, the redhead having gone almost limp in Caldwell’s grasp. The rookie begins clinching the hold a little tighter as Cardillo checks the Atomic Redhead again.

MM: Will she succumb a second time?!

VA: NO!

Struck with a burst of energy, Rachel struggles again and makes Nikki struggle to keep the hold locked in. The older woman suddenly throws an elbow, causing Nikki to release the hold and sends her ass over teakettle with a snapmare!

MM: Beautiful reversal by Rachel and Nikki hits the mat hard!

Rachel gets in a few stomps on Nikki, but moves to picks her up and send her back down with a power slam!

VA: And again!

Rachel drops some rapid elbows on Nikki’s cranium before yanking her to her feet one more time. Caldwell responds with an uppercut before she drops and Rachel gets sent down with a Russian leg sweep. The rookie rushes to the ropes and she climbs the top turnbuckle as the crowd begins a cheer, getting behind Nikki. She makes the leap and tries hitting an elbow drop, but Rachel smirks from her prone position and rolls out of the way as Nikki hits elbow first onto the mat.

VA: I bet that one hurts!

MM: You best believe it!

The younger of the women rolls around, holding her elbow as Rachel capitalizes on that moment of pain. Rachel grabs Caldwell’s wrist and locks in an arm bar! The rookie winces and cries out in pain before managing only by the grace of god to roll just the right way and pull out of Rachel’s tight grip by sheer determination.

MM: She broke out of it!

VA: HOW?! THAT WAS SOME WEIRD DOUBLE-JOINTED ROOKIE LUCK OR SOMETHING!

Even the Atomic Redhead looks a little perplexed at the particular move, watching Nikki get back to her feet and joining her before they charge at each other again! Nikki ends up ducking a haymaker thrown, only to return it with one of her own. The punch lands right in Rachel’s jaw, rocking her head back, but she recovers quickly and drops the rookie with a big boot to the stomach!

Nikki falls to the mat and Rachel pounces on her, slamming her against the mat and goes for the leg hook!

 

 

1…

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Nikki kicks out with a yell, refusing to go down so quickly!

VA: Typical woman, goes down and won’t stay down!

MM: ASHE!

Rachel gives a huff of frustration, before pushing her down again for the count!

 

 

 

1…

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

MM: Will she stay down this time?!

 

 

 

Thr—

MM: NO! THERE’S THE KICKOUT!

Another shout from the both of them, Rachel rolling away to get back to her feet as Nikki follows suit. Nikki runs at her from the other side of the ring, trying for a clothesline but Rachel quickly reverses with a drop toe hold. The rookie hits the mat forcefully as Rachel lets go of the hold, only to watch Nikki trying to roll away to recover and get back on her feet making it to her knees before the Atomic Redhead sees an opening…and she takes it!

MM: The Atomic Redhead has Nikki locked in a dragon sleeper–AGAIN!!

VA: Wait. Wait! Is this deja vu?

The younger of the competitors is yanked backwards, the redhead’s arm around her neck holding her firmly down on her knees. Referee Juan Cardillo stands close by to keep an eye on Nikki, watching for the submission. Rachel yells out to the cheering crowd, tightening her grip and wrenching Nikki’s back as the rookie lets out a yell of frustration.

MM: There is no escape for her!

VA: You aren’t kidding, Malone!

MM: Wait, is Caldwell going for it again?!

VA: THIS IS DEJA VU!!

Nikki tries to twist her body to try and slip out, but to no avail! The rookie lets out a cry out of her own, having no choice but to try and clasp her hands together and locking her arms around Rachel. Struggling with all her might, Nikki pushes herself up to one knee and kicks off that leg, throwing her weight behind it with a yell and manages to roll the both of them! Rachel has little time to react as she’s pushed down to the mat and held there for the count!

 

 

 

1…

 

 

 

MM: TWO!

VA: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

MM: Wait. Wait! What’s Rachel doing?!

With a mighty roar from the Atomic Redhead, Rachel rolls them one more time!

MM: Ellsworth has Caldwell pinned now!

VA: Cardillo drops for the count!

 

 

 

1…

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

3!!!!!

 

The crowd roars this last second turnaround as Rachel releases her opponent, winking down at her before Juan Cardillo helps her to her feet and raises her hand in the air.

NR: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner by pinfall, the Atomic Redhead…RACHEL ELLSWORTH!!

MM: A great showing from Rachel Ellsworth, who picks up the big victory at Live From London!

VA: The things I would do to that woman, Malone, let me tell you…I’d start with a nice —

MM: Annnnnnd let’s go backstage!

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: RACHEL ELLSWORTH (8:18)


(We cut backstage to Terry Bull who is standing by outside the locker room of Alexander Haven and 3K. The door is open, but there’s no sign of movement inside.)

Terry Bull: Folks, we’re anxiously awaiting the return of EWA owner Alexander Haven, who suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of Indrid Calder moments ago. One has to imagine that Haven is irate, to say the least.

Alexander Haven: Irate, Terry? You think I’m irate?

(Alexander Haven walks into the scene, flanked by his wife. Haven holds a rag up to his head, catching blood from the still fresh gash on his forehead thanks to Indrid’s For The Horsemen onto that chair. Haven glares at Bull, who is impeding his progress to the locker room.)

Terry Bull: Would you care to comment on tonight’s events, Alex? This has not been the quasi-homecoming you intended it to be, to say the least, following your loss tonight and the death of a dear friend I’m told you considered a mentor.

(In an instant, Haven grabs Bull by his suit jacket, and lifts the man into the air against the wall. His eyes are filled with pure anger as blood begins to drip from his still unattended to gash. Alyssa Marie quickly intervenes, forcing Haven to drop Bull. Haven shoots her a disapproving look as she stands between the men, holding him off.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: For fuck’s sake, Terry, get the fuck out of here before he kills you.

(Bull scurries backwards, eventually gaining his footing and running away. His coat falls off behind him, and Haven picks it up, further covering it with blood from his hands, and hurls it down the hall in a fit of rage as the cameraman wisely retreats as well.)


SEAN BODEN VS GRACE GOEREN

EWA COMBAT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the EWA Combat Championship!

MM: This is going to be a hotly contested match, I think, Vince.

VA: Malone, let’s cut to the chase: this is gonna be bloody. There’s no way Boden’s not popping some stitches tonight.

MM: That’s true, Ashe… Sean Boden is still injured after… well.

VA: Yeah. Remember how Ryan dropped his ass in the ring earlier? Those were good times.

The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes” starts up, the crowd immediately greeting it with immense boos. Boden stands on the stage in silhouette, his head down.

NOBODY KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE
TO BE THE BAD MAN
TO BE THE SAD MAN

A red spotlight catches him on the ramp, his head still down, although now we can see the smirk.

BEHIND BLUE EYES

Boden’s head pops up, and he stares down the ring, where referee Danny Smith is even chilled by his gaze. He slowly walks down the ramp, the smirk cold and unmoving.

NR: Introducing first, from Las Vegas, NV, weighing in at 230 lbs, representing Pariah, SEAN BODEN!

MM: Earlier tonight, we saw a historic match signing, as Ryan Cuddihy came out of retirement to challenge Sean Boden to a Human Torch match at Champions Summit.

VA: I think now is a good time to remind everyone that the last time Boden was in one of those matches, back in Outlaw Pro Wrestling, former EWA World Heavyweight Champion X-Calibur defeated him, breaking his back and temporarily paralyzing him in the process.

MM: The Human Torch made its only EWA appearance back in 2001, where that man walked into hell against the Incomparable Chris Kage himself. Not only did Kage win that match, Ashe, but he went on to defeat “Cold” Harding Cash for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship that very same night.

VA: So Boden’s not very good at these matches, is what you’re telling me.

MM: He is 0 for 2, but he’s survived losing two of them. There are people who nearly didn’t survive winning them.

He steps into the ring, staring down Smith, and begins to remove his jacket, tie, and shirt. The crowd hushes a little as they see the row of stitches across both his bicep and chest.

VA: Ugh, that is gross. Who cleared him to compete?

MM: Rumor has it someone with a vested interest in the Fallout’s downfall might have had something to do with it.

VA: What, a little bird tell you that? A little bird with a law degree and a Pepsi habit?

Smith chatters with Boden a little about his obviously-still-healing injuries, but Boden waves him off, the smirk never coming off of his face.

“Chaos Royale” by the Sister Sin hits over the arena’s loudspeakers as Grace Goeren makes her way out from behind the curtain. She stops in front of the curtains, glaring out at the crowd and gives a quick smirk. Grace is wearing a black t-shirt with the blood-red lips logo of The Fallout, a pair of red MMA combat gloves, a red compression top and a pair of black vale tudo shorts. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and the initials “GG” are printed on the sides of her black Diablo boxing shoes.

NR: And his opponent, from Dortmund, Germany, weighing in at 140 lbs, representing the Fallout, she is the EWA Combat Champion, the God Queen, GRACE GOEREN!

She holds her hands up high, waving on the fans absolute hatred of her as she starts jawing with them before making her way down the ramp. She stops and slaps a fan’s hand away, flipping off the entire arena in the process.

VA: Dammit, Nikki, she’s the EWA WORLD Combat Champion. It’s not that hard.

MM: It’s hard not to argue that Grace Goeren’s world here in the EWA looks to be falling apart a little, Ashe.

VA: HERESY!

MM: But seriously, with Sahara and Liz Gaunt showing signs of rebellion, her chances at the World Heavyweight Championship completely destroyed, and her father Azrael still running around here, what does Grace have going right for her right now?

VA: For starters, she’s in the ring with that man right there. A win over Sean Boden would go a long way to cement her standing here in the EWA.

MM: I mean, it’s a start… but Grace Goeren has a lot of hurdles to jump if she wants to bring herself back up to the top of the mountain.

VA: She’s always been at the top of the mountain, Malone. Now she’s just climbing a different mountain. And she’ll do it. Watch and see, I guarantee it.

She finally hits the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope before pulling herself up to her feet. After taking a few moments to glare out at the seething audience, Grace cracks her knuckles and starts stretching out her legs in the center of the ring, taking up as much space as she needs with no regard for anyone else.

Boden leans up against the turnbuckle, smirking at her in the middle of the ring. She shoots him a glare, and his expression doesn’t change.

Sean Boden: Oh, no, take your time. No hurry.

Grace Goeren: Wouldn’t want your heart to give out, old man.

He chuckles, and Danny Smith calls for the bell. Boden pushes off the turnbuckle, and Goeren stands up, the pair circling each other. Neither seems to keen to close the gap, and Boden takes a swing, deftly ducked by Goeren. Boden dips in to lock up, but Goeren dodges, getting behind him with a hammerlock, but Boden reverses it into one of his own, which Goeren rolls through, kipping up to her feet, trying to bring Boden down with an arm wrench, but Boden also rolls through, pulling Grace into a HUGE short-arm clothesline that nearly takes her head off!

Grace rolls out of the ring, as Boden stares back, the smirk on his face never leaving. Grace slams her hands on the apron, as Smith starts a ten count!

VA: Grace seems frustrated by Boden’s quickness!

MM: I think maybe Goeren expected an injured Boden to be less capable!

VA: C’mon, God Queen! You got this, just focus!

MM: I’m gonna get you some pompoms if you’re not careful.

VA: You sound like my second ex-wife.

Grace climbs onto the apron, refusing to get into the ring while Boden is anywhere near the ropes. He chuckles, backing off, and the God Queen steps in– ducking another clothesline from Boden! She kicks him in the back of the knee, and as he drops to his knee, she drives a hard kick to his chest, right where the stitches are! Boden winces, but doesn’t drop, and Grace jumps onto his back, pulling him into a guillotine! She tries to pull him backwards, but Boden doesn’t fall– he grabs the middle rope! Smith is calling for Grace to break the hold, but Grace refuses to budge! Boden grabs the top rope with his other hand, pulling himself to his feet! Grace jumps up, wrapping her legs around Boden’s waist, but Boden refuses to go down! He runs blindly backwards toward the corner, but Grace drops off, letting Boden slam his own back into the turnbuckle!

Grace leaps like a lion on a kill, driving heavy kick after kick to Boden’s chest! Boden winces hard after each one, and Grace screams like a banshee, swinging one last kick– caught! Boden pulls her in, tossing her over his shoulders in a capture suplex, right into the turnbuckles! Grace hits hard and drops, but Boden’s not doing too hot, either!

MM: Grace putting a pounding on Boden’s injured chest, but that nearly 100 lb weight advantage causing her problems of her own!

VA: I mean, come on! He’s only got 4 inches on her in height! There’s gotta be a wellness policy violation there!

Boden presses a hand to his chest, but he manages to get to his feet! Grace is a little slower, and Boden takes advantage, pulling her up and sending her shoulder-first into the ring post! Grace hits with a clang, and Boden steps outside the ropes, grabbing the same arm, and holding on as he hops off the apron! Grace’s arm wraps around the top rope, and she drops on her back, holding her shoulder!

Boden ignores Danny Smith starting a ten count, and he grabs Grace’s arm, slamming it into the ring post! Grace howls in pain, and pulls herself away from the corner! Boden shakes his head, hopping onto the apron, and stepping through the ropes. He immediately goes for Grace’s arm again– Grace pops to her feet with a HUGE European uppercut! Boden stumbles back, and Grace charges to the ropes, coming off them and flying at Boden with a headscissors– Boden catches her– no! Grace rolls with it, hooking him into a flying octopus stretch! She hooks her leg behind his, pulling on his injured right arm!

MM: A brilliant counter by Goeren, and Boden’s stuck in the middle of the ring!

VA: I told you, Malone! I fucking told you!

Boden’s howling in pain, and we can see his right arm is starting to bleed! He lets out a scream, before diving backwards to the mat, crushing Grace underneath him!

MM: Jesus! It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective!

Boden rolls off of her, pulling himself to the corner, holding his arm! Blood is slowly leaking from the slice in his bicep, dripping down the pit of his elbow! Smith comes to check on him, and Boden pushes him away, his face a mask of rage and pain!

Grace pushes herself to her feet as Boden gets to his, and he flies at her blind! He misses with a clothesline, and Grace comes off the ropes with a spinning wheel kick! Boden goes to the mat, but he doesn’t stay there, getting back up right into a dropkick to the face! Boden falls again, popping up even more angrily, but getting dropped again with a split-legged jawbreaker! Boden drops, and Grace rolls backwards, rushing back in to grab his legs!

She smiles, wrapping him up in the Officially Licensed Azrael Goeren Cloverleaf®! She leans back, applying more pressure to back of the challenger!

MM: For someone who hates her dad as much as she does, she’s certainly fine with stealing his moves!

VA: It’s a known winner against Boden! All’s fair in the ring, Malone! And if the lesser Goeren can win with it, so can the God Queen!

Grace screams along with Boden, pulling back as hard as she can, but the damage done to her arm is keeping her from really wrenching the hold! Boden tries to raise himself up on the mat, dragging her closer to the ropes! He’s reaching, pushing to keep her weight off his back! She pulls back harder– but drops the hold, clutching her shoulder! Boden scrambles to the ropes, pulling himself to them, wrapping his arms around the middle rope to try to get back to his feet!

He stands up, gingerly testing his leg, trying to walk it off! Grace’s face twists in rage, and she runs at Boden– he scoops her up onto his shoulder, spinning her around hard into the Wrath of the Demon!

VA: NO!

MM: Sean Boden just dropped her right on that hurt shoulder!

Boden covers!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE! NO! Smith sees Grace’s foot on the ropes!

Boden slams his hand on the mat, getting to his feet! He kicks Grace in the face, before picking her up– Grace plants a MASSIVE palm strike into Boden’s chest! He winces, and blood starts to seep through the stitches on his chest!

VA: YES! Patricide!

Grace screams, hitting him with a second Patricide, popping more stitches! She goes for it again! No! Boden catches her, pulling her forward, and locking her in the Wrath!

VA: NO! Dammit!

Grace gasps for air, as Boden wraps his arms tight around her head! She tries to get away, but she’s stuck in the middle of the ring! Boden wrenches back, and Grace’s arm starts to fall to the side! Smith is there, checking on the champion! Grace’s hand falls down, and Smith raises it!

It drops to her side! He brings it up again!

It drops to her side! Smith brings her arm up one more time!

It stays up! Grace makes a fist, driving her elbow into Boden’s side! Boden loosens the hold, and Grace hits him again! He lets go, and Grace drives a THIRD Patricide into Boden’s chest! Blood now covers his entire torso, and Grace’s back! Boden collapses to the mat and Grace covers!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

NR: Here is your winner, and STILL EWA Combat Champion, the God Queen, GRACE GOEREN!

Medical personnel are rushing to the ring, as Goeren scoops up her belt with a smile, raising it in the air!

VA: I told you the God Queen had this! Don’t call it a comeback! She’s been here for–

MM: It looks like Goeren opened up both of Boden’s wounds here tonight, Vince! He’s lost a lot of blood already!

VA: I know, like, our job is supposed to be to show some sort of sympathy for them when they get hurt like this, but honestly, fuck that guy.

MM: I don’t normally agree with you on that sort of thing, Vince, but I think I’ll make an exception today.

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL, AND STILL EWA COMBAT CHAMPION: GRACE GOEREN (10:11)


(Backstage, we find Dube moments away from his first in-ring action in close to 15 years. He wears his gear of navy blue-and-gold trunks with white trim and a white top with navy blue boots. He is not lost in thought of preparation, rather he has a rather relaxed expression as he walks the halls.

An expression that comes to a huge smile–one could say of awe. The shot pans back to reveal he has run across someone. In fact, not simply “someone” but rather the first female EWA World Heavyweight Champion, the Viking Queen herself, Sinnocence! Dressed in a long black maxi dress with her hair up and a duffel bag over one shoulder, clearly on her way to the locker room.)

Dube: Oh, man…!

(He walks quickly to finally reach her, a hand extended. She gives the strange man a hesitant smile as he approaches.)

Dube: I cannot even begin to tell you how HUGE a fan of yours I’ve been… am… was…

(He seems lost in his fanboyish-ness, speaking to himself.)

Dube: I can’t believe I’m right next to Sinnocence!

(Sinn just chuckles softly, shaking his hand briefly before a slim black eyebrow goes up. His face looks familiar, but she can’t place it.)

Sinnocence: Do I know you?

Dube: Uh… Probably not–I likely’ve appoarch–ugh… approached… you if, uh…

(He feels embarrassed getting tongue-tied from his excitement.)

Dube: I’m Dube. I have a bit of an in-ring resume, but that was a long time ago. I guess around here, I’m best known as Laura Seton’s former.

Sinnocence: Oh, oh! You! I remember her saying a few things about you.

(The Viking Queen gives a half-smile and looks him up and down, appraising him as she does everyone. It isn’t clear exactly what Laura Seton has told Sinnocence about her former boyfriend and it doesn’t look like she’s liable to spill the beans either.)

Sinnocence: Looking to win back her heart or something? Because I’m fairly sure, despite recent events, she’s quite happy with Wilmott.

(He good-heartedly scoffs.)

Dube: No, no, no–I know that. She’s made her choice and if she’s happy, that’s all I care about. Ugh, you know, I wish I had my equipment… love to interview you for m’sh… my show.

(Jada’s smile immediately brightens and she leans in, kissing his cheek and taking his hand in her own. Effectively disarming whatever anxieties might have cropped up between them.)

Sinnocence: I’d be delighted, Sweetcheeks. You just let me know where and when, I’ll even bring along Josh if you want. A mother and son exclusive, your show will go through the roof.

(Dube seems a bit more awe-struck with her, even if just a small peck on the cheek given to him. He realizes he can’t stay in such a state, however, and gives a bit of an exaggerated way of getting himself to a ‘professional’ state.)

Dube: Cool! Assuming I can get out of here in one piece tonight, heh, I’ll let you know. Thanks!

(Fade to ringside.)


LAURA SETON & DUBELICIOUS VS THE VICE SQUAD

SPECIAL ATTRACTION TAG TEAM MATCH

The lights go down, and the heavy drumbeat of the Pretty Reckless’ “Heaven Knows” starts to thrum through the O2 Arena. The crowd is on their feet as we see the silhouettes of Minxy Jones and Lágrima standing on the entrance ramp, but before the lights can go up, the music cuts.

BEHOLD THE KING OF KINGS

The lights shine down red on the Vice Squad, as Motorhead’s “King of Kings” begins to play instead of their usual music. The Squad’s masks are different, with Minxy’s teal and purple filigree replaced with shiny black, and Jane’s skull mask black with red tears. Lágrima blows a kiss to the sky, and Minxy does a sign of the cross, as they start to walk down to the ring.

MM: And the Vice Squad coming out in mourning, with a musical tribute to their fallen trainer and friend.

VA: Our hearts go out to the Cortez family in this trying time. I… I don’t even want to know what that’s like.

MM: Let’s all hope none of us have to.

NR: This contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, at a combined weight of 321 lbs, Minxy Jones and Lágrima, the VICE SQUAD!

The ladies waste no time getting to the ring, as Jane hops onto the apron and vaults over the ropes, and Ainsley follows suit. They skip their usual theatrics, instead moving to their corner to plot strategy and await their opponents, referee David Tucker doing his usual patdown.

HEEEEYYYY…

Kurt Cobain’s start to the chorus to Nirvana’s “In Bloom” sounds throughout the arena as the fans turn towards the entrance.

NR: And their opponents, introducing first, from Oshkosh, WI, weighing in at 215 lbs, DUBE!

Heeeee’s the one…

From behind the curtain steps out Dube in a navy blue wrestling top, red full-length tights with green boots featuring gold lettering reading “DUBE” on the outside of each boot.

MM: Dube, for those of our fans who aren’t in the know, is a former NYSWF Light Heavyweight Champion, and a former NYSWF Television Champion.

VA: We haven’t seen too much of Dube since the EWA’s return, but it’s pretty clear he’s glad to be back in the ring.

MM: Of course, he’s stepping into the ring with the most dominant tag team champion the EWA has ever seen, not to mention a former SHOOT Project Revolution Champion and OPW Southern States Champion in Minxy Jones. One hell of a comeback match.

He stops at the top of the ramp to take in the atmosphere before calmly heading for the ring. As he reaches the bottom of the ramp, he heads up the steps, climbing into the ring.

He heads for his corner, looking towards the crowd. He plays to them a few seconds before reaching his corner, at which he begins pulling on the ropes.

The lights over the entrance change to pink and purple and pulsate in time with the opening of “Gunboat.” The arena then falls black for a second just before the song truly kicks in. As it does, the lights come back up showing Laura, wearing a red leather jacket, full-length black wrestling pants that are almost form-fitted with black, nearly knee-high boots on, standing at the entrance, back turned to the audience and head down. After a few beats, she pivots around, waits a couple beats more then lifts her head.

NR: And his partner, from Oshkosh, WI, weighing in at 175 lbs, LAURA SETON!

MM: How well do you think Dube and Laura are going to work as a team?

VA: Oh, come on, Malone. You saw the way Dube pines over her. They’re unbreakable as a team! Why the heck is she spending time with that schmuck Willmott, anyway?

MM: You– I– I don’t even know what to say anymore.

VA: Yes! I bet Cardillo I could make you speechless before the end of the night. Fifty bucks richer!

After a piercing stare at the ring, she makes her walk towards it as the lyrics start. Reaching the apron, she slides in under the bottom rope and heads to her “home” corner, then hops on the middle turnbuckle to take in the fans’ reaction. She hops off and ties her hair into a ponytail, then removes her jacket, showing a sleeveless, full-torso black leather top. Lastly, she takes off her boots and socks, and she and Dube start conferring.

It looks like Dube and Minxy are starting this one off, and David Tucker calls for the bell. The pair circle each other for a moment, before locking up. Dube gets the power advantage, pushing Ainsley to a neutral corner, before Tucker backs him off. Dube puts his hands up, before driving a back elbow into Ainsley’s face! Dube chuckles, but Ainsley quickly trades places with him, tossing him into the corner, and following with a set of punches to the gut, followed by a shooting star kick to his jaw! Minxy lands on her feet, as Dube stumbles forward, and falls to the mat!

Minxy hits a forward handspring into the ropes, bouncing her legs off the top, and landing a moonsault across Dube! She goes for a cover, but Dube kicks out before Tucker can even count a one! Dube pops to his feet, looking at Minxy with shock, while Minxy shrugs with a smile!

MM: I don’t think Dube was expecting this kind of energy this quickly, Vince!

VA: Well, he hasn’t been in the ring in, like, a millennium, Malone! Give him a minute to knock the ring rust off!

The pair lock up once again, but Dube tosses Minxy into an arm drag, dropping her as soon as she pops up with a massive clothesline! Dube drops a leg across her throat, before making his own cover!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO! Kickout!

Dube shakes his head, as Minxy rolls backward, and Dube tries for another clothesline! Minxy ducks it, going to the ropes! Dube leapfrogs her as she comes back, and Minxy crosses the ring once again– back kick to the face from Dube! Minxy flops to the mat, and Dube double-stomps her back as he tags in Laura!

Laura rushes into the ring as Minxy gets to a knee, grabbing her by the mask. She pulls Ainsley into a side headlock, running forward with a bulldog– Minxy tosses her off! Laura hits the mat, but immediately rolls out of the way of a somersault senton! Minxy lands hard on the mat, sitting up and clutching her back, and Laura follows it up with a HUGE soccer kick to the masked woman’s back! Ainsley arches her back even harder, and Laura zooms to the ropes, coming back and LEVELLING her with a huge shining wizard! Laura with the cover!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR– kickout!

MM: Laura Seton firmly in control of this match so far, and you gotta think Lágrima is just itching to get into the ring!

VA: She’s here to make Roberto proud, Malone, and she can’t do that on the apron!

Seton pulls Ainsley up to her feet, into a front facelock! Seton with the DDT– no! Minxy holds on! Seton tries again, but Minxy puts a foot behind Laura’s! Ainsley brings the former World Champion up into the air with a MASSIVE Northern Lights suplex, and she holds it in a bridge!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO! Kickout!

Minxy kips up to her feet, running to the ropes, and sliding underneath the bottom, popping up on the apron before Seton is on her feet! Laura turns around, as Minxy springboards off the top rope with a missile dropkick that connects right to Laura Seton’s face! Laura falls back, and Minxy immediately tags in Lágrima!

Lágrima ascends the turnbuckle, as Minxy pulls Laura to her feet! She whips Laura to the ropes, catching her in a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! She holds Laura over her knee, as Lágrima FLIES off the top with a shooting star legdrop across Laura’s neck! Jane goes for a cover, but Dube kicks her in the head before Minxy can stop him! Minxy chases him out of the ring before sliding out herself, and Lágrima is a little woozy getting to her feet! Seton is crawling toward the ropes as Jane shakes out the cobwebs, and Seton hooks her arms over the bottom rope. Lágrima rushes to Seton, grabbing the top rope, and swinging herself up nearly vertical, before dropping her legs across Seton’s back, crushing her against the bottom rope!

VA: Good lord! Lágrima showing off that gymnastics background to be sure!

MM: And Laura Seton’s trachea just took the brunt of it!

Jane pulls Seton off the bottom rope, tossing her to the corner, where Minxy Jones is waiting! Minxy puts a foot up, and Laura crashes face first into it! She doesn’t fall, but Lágrima tags Minxy back in, pulling Seton toward the ropes!

MM: And Seton now being double-teamed!

VA: Th–

MM: Don’t even say what you’re thinking, Ashe, I know I used a poor choice of words… They’ve got her against the ropes now.

Dube sees the situation, and he comes charging towards the group, just as Laura fends off Minxy! With too much momentum to put the brakes on in time, he rams into Laura, pushing her into the ropes! As she recovers and turns around, she sees only Dube behind her!

Her eyes gain a fire as rage runs through her!

She takes hold of Dube, giving a fast knee to the gut before shoving him against the ropes. Another fast knee to the gut!

MM: Does she realize she’s hitting her own partner?

Still moving quick and in a fury, she forces Dube to the corner. She puts a forearm to his throat, causing him to turn his head so as not to absorb the entire force on his throat.

Laura Seton: How does it feel, huh? HUH!?

She forces her forearm stronger upon him, his face now turning red. His breaths become a struggle. Laura’s face shows a rage previously unseen from her.

Laura Seton: Almost 18 years to the day!

MM: What is she talking about?!

VA: I don’t know, but no way is it good!

She gets on her tiptoes for further leverage against him.

Laura Seton: Not as much fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it!?

Her eyes becoming wilder, she releases the forearm, but then takes Dube by the shoulders and shoves him to the canvas. David Tucker is at a loss as to what to do!

MM: She’s losing it!

Laura looks down, as if measuring him up. She takes a step forward before unleashing a brutal soccer-style kick to the head!

Laura Seton: HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, MOTHERFUCKER!!??

The arena seems to hush, shocked at the occurrence of her using such an obscenity! Even the Vice Squad is in shock!

MM: That’s like the Super Bowl of F-bombs!

VA: Absolutely outrageous… she should be fined and suspended for such language!

MM: Half the roster uses that word at least twice a promo!

She looks down, her face beet red in pure anger following the top-of-her-lungs yelling. She looks back up, a few boos trickling in, with no sorrow to her expression. She backs up and simply slides out of the ring and starts making her way back up the ramp, not bothering to retrieve her boots.

MM: Laura Seton has just snapped! Allison or Terry, I don’t know if you can, but could one of you get to her when she gets back there? I’d love to hear this explanation.

Laura has a quick walk up the ramp, throwing aside the curtain to the back. She gets a few steps before a hustling Terry Bull reaches her.

Terry Bull: Laura Seton– what on Earth was that? You better have a good explanation.

The mic going in front of her face gets a dirty look from her as she turns towards Terry.

Laura Seton: Not now.

Terry Bull: And just what does that mean? That was your own partner out there. Very inexcusable, young lady.

Laura Seton: You’ll find out soon enough.

Before Terry can get another word out, she walks away.

Terry Bull: No luck now, guys. Let’s hope this explanation is indeed “soon.”

MM: Now what? Is this match continuing? Laura Seton was the legal man!

The Vice Squad look at each other, nod, and they both immediately drop to the mat, hooking Dube in a DOUBLE Muta lock! Dube immediately starts to howl, tapping like a maniac, and David Tucker sees no other option but to end this match!

NR: Your winners, Minxy Jones and Lágrima, the VICE SQUAD!

MM: I don’t get it, Ashe!

VA: I know! The Vice Squad totally didn’t have to do that, they would’ve won by countout anyway!

MM: No, you dunce, what the hell just happened with Laura Seton and Dube?! And was that the Vice Squad’s way of showing solidarity? I’m so confused!

VA: Either way, I can guarantee this isn’t the way they wanted to win this match!

MM: Folks, let’s take you to some footage captured over the week right here in London!

YOUR WINNERS BY SUBMISSION: THE VICE SQUAD (9:19)


(Various shots of London bustling and booming are seen with hundreds of people walking through Piccadilly Circus, some heading to Stamford Bridge ahead of a Chelsea football clash, and floods of people getting onto the underground. London life is hectic and crazy.

The view then switches to the #1 Contender to the EWA World Heavyweight Championship — ‘Red Hot’ Ray Willmott. He’s got a beaming smile on his face as the camera zooms in.)

Ray Willmott: Alright, it’s 7am here in the U.K. I’ve got a long day of promo ahead, but luckily I’ve got all of you for company. Let’s get busy!

(Ray pokes his tongue out and then nudges the camera toward a large, red EWA London Open Top Bus which will be his home for the rest of the day. Better get comfy!

The next shot sees Ray holding a megaphone in hand, bellowing through it as the bus crawls along the London roads. Alongside him are other EWA superstars, such as Tanya Black, Lunatikk Crippler, Chris Kage, and the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Grady Smith.)

Ray Willmott: Excellence has risen all the way to the top deck of this bus.

(He notices some people laughing on the street.

There’s a quick cut and then another video of Ray screaming down the microphone.)

Ray Willmott: April 21! Get your tickets for Live from London. It’s going to be our biggest and best card ever and it’s happening on your doorstep!

(The next shot sees Ray answer some fan questions in a Live Stream. A choppy, poor quality image of him is seen on the top left of a flat screen monitor and on the right side is a constantly moving chat window. He’s responding to a highlighted question about his diet plan.)

Ray Willmott: Lot of fruit. Greek youghurt. Plenty of protein. And when no one is looking, a big fat, greasy pizza with all the meats or a strong smelling, tastebud tickling curry. But don’t tell my trainers….Seriously guys, I’m trusting you here!

(The next shot is a live concert of a local band in a small venue and Ray is invited on stage to help sing their next song. As he positions himself behind the mic stand, he looks across at the lead singer.)

Ray Willmott: You actually want people to come back to your next gig?’

(There’s some chuckling all around before the heavy metal guitar kicks in and Ray offers some surprisingly high falsetto.

Another shot shows Ray at a school, sat with a group of young teenagers discussing their career goals and aspirations. One or two are interested in wrestling, while others mention passing interest in psychology and English. Ray talks to the students openly and honestly, offering whatever advice he can.

The final shot is at night on the streets of London with people randomly choosing to pose with a potential statue in heavy makeup, reminiscent of Willmott’s ‘Y Ddraid Goch – Red Dragon’ persona. People taking selfies with the would-be statue don’t realise that they’re actually standing next to a real person. It turns out to be Willmott on the streets, jump-scaring people while they take photos, then talking and laughing with them afterwards.

We then see a full stop motion of Willmott getting into his Y Ddraid Goch Makeup prior to heading out onto the streets.

The final shot is Ray half out of makeup, looking at the camera.)

Ray Willmott: What a day. I’m dead on my feet, but it’s been 100% worth it. There’s a real buzz about the EWA here. People can’t wait to see our roster for the first time and get their chance to see our brand here. The EWA Community continues to grow and we can’t wait to show London what we’ve got. Woooo!

(Willmott disappears out of shot and the camera fades out as we head back to the 02 Arena.)


DAN STEIN VS ELIZABETH GAUNT

EWA NETWORK CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

NR: The following match is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the EWA Network Championship!

MM: This one should be very interesting. The always unstable Gaunt going head to head with the Golden Boy himself.

VA: Unstable!?!? How dare you speak of the beatific White Angel in such profane terms, Malone!

“White Angel” by The Lions roars from the arena PA system as Elizabeth saunters out from behind the curtains. She wears white lace ring gear with the back exposed to show off skeletal tattooed wings across her shoulders, the pixie cut of ivory hair hanging down to obscure one half of her grinning face.

She unsnaps the EWA Network Title and thrusts it upwards, a talisman now adorning the mantle of Heaven.

NR: Introducing first, she is the EWA Network Champion, The White Angel, Elizabeth Gaunt!!!

Gaunt wastes no time stalking down the ramp and sliding beneath the bottom rope to enter the ring.

Baby blue strobe lights begin to illuminate the top of the ramp as the Golden Boy bursts out of the curtains with Molly trailing at his heels. “The Touch” by Stan Bush blasts out of the speakers, Stein shadow boxing right along to the music as he makes his way down to the ring.

NR: Introducing second, the challenger, The Golden Boy, Dan Stein!!!

Molly smiles at Stein’s display…BUT SUDDENLY GAUNT SLIDES OUT OF THE RING AND SMASHES A JUMPING KNEE INTO DAN’S FACE!!!

Stein crumbles back against the security railing, and Gaunt races forward and just beings to CRUSH knee shots into his torso over and over again before taking him by the back of the skull and just SMASHING him into the steel steps with all of her might!

MM: What the hell in this?? Gaunt didn’t even let Stein get into the ring. This is nothing but a messy assault.

VA: Early bird gets the championship, Malone! The lovely Fallout girls know how to get the job done, and Lizzie is doing just that.

Stein has started to fire back with a few fists, but Gaunt puts an end to the flurry by swinging Stein into the ring post and then leaping from the steel steps to SANDWICH him against the steel with a front dropkick!

A sickening crunch sound rings out, and Dan drops to his hands and knees while cradling his lower back.

MM: Come on, ref! Get this madwoman into the ring…nothing about this is fair.

VA: Is life fair?? Nah. Didn’t think so.

Lizzie finally scrapes Stein up and tosses him into the ring, proceeding to roll in after him. The bell FINALLY rings to announce that we’re officially underway, and Stein manages to crawl up to his hands and knees. Blood drips down the side of his face from a split eyebrow thanks to that sucker knee shot. Molly looks on in concern, but Stein offers her a thumbs up with plasma dripping down to decorate his smile.

Lizzie responds to this but PUNTING Stein in the side of his face with all her might, the Golden Boy flipping to the side while holding his head.

This brings Molly up onto the apron, screaming at the top of her lungs…but Lizzie runs over to sucker punch her. Molly actually BLOCKS the fist and delivers a powerful forearm of her own into Gaunt’s face. Gaunt is staggered, and Molly enters the ring and begins to just PEPPER Gaunt with fist after fist, the referee momentarily distracted and checking on the bleeding carcass of Dan Stein.

Gaunt is getting rocked, and she actually drops down to one knee. Stein looks up to see this fire from Molly now that she’s facing the woman responsible for her assault. Molly has Gaunt at her mercy, anger giving her an adrenaline rush…but just when Molly is able to deliver a killing blow, she stops herself and shakes her head.

MM: Molly inserting herself into this match and taking the FIGHT to Lizzie…but it seems Molly is a better person than The White Angel. She refuses to take it to that violent place that the Fallout girls are willing to go to.

VA: Stupid decision.

Molly slowly rolls out of the ring, and Stein manages to use the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. He rushes at Gaunt and pulls her in TIGHT for Twitterbation…but blood runs down into his eyes, and Gaunt reaches up with clawed hands to RAKE the hell out of his eyeballs.

Stein stumbles back…and Gaunt springs to her feet and just pistons a superkick into The Golden Boy’s heart with everything that she has. He goes down hard and Gaunt practically throws herself into the pinfall.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

NR: HERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND STILL EWA NETWORK CHAMPION, THE WHITE ANGEL…ELIZABETH GAUNT!!!

MM: Talk about a damn travesty. Stein has nothing to be ashamed of here; this match was a farce from the start. Gaunt attacked him viciously before the bell could even ring.

VA: HUGE win for that divine creature! She valiantly defeats a former World Champion tonight…that’s just what angels do, Malone!

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: ELIZABETH GAUNT (6:56)
ELIZABETH GAUNT RETAINS THE EWA NETWORK CHAMPIONSHIP


(We cut backstage once more, outside the locker room of Alexander Haven and 3K. Outside, now missing his suit coat, stands a rather sweaty and nervous Terry Bull following his earlier interaction with Haven.)

Terry Bull: Folks, I’ve been asked to return here to the Three Kings locker room for a word with our owner, Alexander Haven.

(Bull gulps, and knocks on the door. Taking a few large steps backwards, he puts some distance between himself and the door. The door swings open, as Alyssa Marie peaks her head out, before disappearing inside. Alexander Haven emerges shortly after, shutting the door behind him. His forehead has been stitched now, stopping the flow of bleeding. He takes a few steps towards Bull, who backs off instantly. Haven seems noticeably calmer.)

Alexander Haven: Goddamnit, Terry, I’m not going to attack you. Get over here.

(Bull tentatively closes the gap, but keeps a fair amount of distance.)

Terry Bull: First off, I’d like to apologize if I crossed any lines earlier.

Alexander Haven: Stop right there, Terry. I owe you an apology first, as it was in no way fair of me to attack you, an EWA employee, in that manner. So for that – I am sorry.

Terry Bull: I appreciate that, sir. Water under the bridge.

Alexander Haven: Well, not exactly, Terry.

Terry Bull: Excuse me?

Alexander Haven: I said it wasn’t fair of me to attack you. Unfortunately for you, we’re not playing fair around here anymore. I tried to be nice about this, Terry, but it seems I just can’t rule around here with the respect I deserve when people like you insist on prying into my personal life.

Terry Bull: I meant no disrespect-

Alexander Haven: That’s the thing though, Terry. You didn’t mean to disrespect me, but you did, and the end result is the same.

(Suddenly two security officers step up being Terry, each placing a hand on his shoulder. Terry looks at them flabbergasted.)

Terry Bull: What is the meaning of this?!

Alexander Haven: If I have to earn respect the hard way around here, I will. Effective immediately, you are suspended from the EWA indefinitely, without pay, as we launch an investigation into your conduct here this evening.

Terry Bull: MY conduct?! You’ve got to be kidding me!

(Haven leans in close, shaking his head at Bull with a smirk.)

Alexander Haven: I assure you, I am very serious about earning the respect I deserve around here, one way…or another.

Get him out of here, boys.

(Bull is firmly escorted backwards, being effortlessly dragged by the two much larger men. Alexander Haven looks on, with a satisfied smirk, before disappearing into the locker room once more.)


MARTIN ROBERTSON VS CHRIS KAGE

MM: Coming up next, folks, we’ve got one helluva gru…

VA: I got this one, Malone. Up next you’re going to see King Martin of New Rochelle defend the honour of the kingdom against that plunderous outlaw Chris Kage, who takes from those more deserving of the riches in our fair lands, forcing the kings to hurt those they rule over, all while stealing the adulation that should be bestowed upon those who rule the lands, the Three Kings!

MM: Are you…

VA: Shut up! I’m not finished! The man, consumed with his maiden wench, has brought chaos to our great land, and it will be tonight that King Martin tears the heart out of this thief with a spoon!

MM: Did you.. Just… I’m not even going to ask it. Vince, just drop it…

VA: LOOK INTO MY EYES! YOU WILL SEE…

MM: Let’s go up to Ni…

VA: EVERYTHING I DO… I DO IT FOR YOU!

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

Crowd: ONE FALL!

The opening guitar riff and drum solo to Avenged Sevenfold’s “Hail to the King” begins to play as the strobe lights flash all throughout the arena, giving the building that rock concert feel to it. As the beat picks up and continues, the strobes slowly shift their focus towards the entrance ramp and, once they are all centered on a single spot on the ramp…

HAIL TO THE KING
HAIL TO THE ONE
KNEEL TO THE CROWN
STAND IN THE SUN
HAIL TO THE KING!

NR: Introducing first, as I’ve been instructed to say, he is the longest reigning singles champion in the history of the EWA, holding the Network Championship for a consecutive 188 days. He hails from New Rochelle, New York, USA, and asks that all of the peasants and pagans in attendance bow down as he steps on the stage. Accompanied by the Queen of the EWA Kingdom, Alyssa Marie Haven, here is the man who will restore peace and civility to the kingdom, he is the youngest member of the Three Kings of Wrestling, I humbly present to you… “PERFECTION”…. MARTIN… ROBERTSON!

MM: Oh good lord, that was ridiculous!

Stepping through the curtain is indeed Martin Robertson. However, instead of his typical black jacket with “Perfection” on the back in script, the jacket has been replaced by a royal purple robe, with the same inscription on the back. He steps towards the center of the entrance ramp before lowering his head and extending his arms out, the robe opening up to show Martin wearing a black “Three Kings” t-shirt along with his wrestling trunks. The crowd continues to boo as he simply smiles when he looks up before strutting down to the ring…

VA: BOW DOWN TO THE KING, MALONE!

MM: I’ve got a question. How can there be three kings? In a hierarchical structure, shouldn’t one of the kings be over the other ones?

VA: Because they all rule the wrestling world!

MM: But shouldn’t one be over the others?

VA: Just shut it, Malone. There’s three kings. That’s it. Three. One, two, three.

MM: … and a queen.

VA: You’re a queen.

Martin climbs into the ring, holding the ropes open for Alyssa as she steps through the first and second ropes, before he flies over to the corner, climbing the turnbuckle and posing out for the capacity crowd, who continue to whistle and jeer at him. Martin takes it all in, though, before climbing down and meeting Alyssa in the center of the ring. But just as he starts to take his jacket off…

Suddenly, the darkness is filled with red and white strobe lights that flash throughout the arena. As the lights pick up their pace, we begin to hear a familiar guitar refrain play over the arena speaker before a huge flash occurs on the stage…

FALL!!

The strobe lights concentrate on the entrance ramp as “I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin begins to play…

MM: And here comes the man hellbent on destroying the kingdom of the Three Kings!

NR: … and his opponent. He hails from Buffalo, New York, USA. Accompanied to the ring by his wife, Stacy Vandervort, he is the former three-time World Heavyweight Champion… he is… ‘THE INCOMPARABLE’…. CHRIS…. KAGE!

VA: Chris Kage is shooting arrows at a kingdom that’s got cannons pointed straight at him! It’s a stupid idea by him!

Stepping through the entrance curtain with an energy rarely seen during any of his prior entrances, Chris Kage emerges, still wearing the mostly-white ring gear, including the white ‘I Will Not Bow’ t-shirt. Holding his hand as he walks to the center of the ramp is his wife, Stacy, in the full body black leather suit that shows off every single curve of her body. The couple stand on the ramp for a minute looking out at the crowd — before beginning to make their way to the ring.

MM: I don’t think he really cares, Vince! Alexander Haven threw away his lifelong friendship with Kage to stand next to Michael Draven, and Chris is going to take out everything Alex has, starting with his protege, Martin Robertson!

Kage slides under the bottom rope into the ring and climbs up the turnbuckle as Stacy stands outside, applauding for her man as the fans cheer for Chris. Just as Chris drops down from the turnbuckle, Martin slides back into the ring and starts to charge at Kage…

MM: Martin… No! Kage caught Martin trying to attack him early, and he sidesteps the second generation superstar! Martin hard into the corner, and now Kage is raining down right hands on the youngster!

DING! DING! DING!

VA: This isn’t fair! Martin wasn’t ready!

MM: He’s the one that attacked Kage!

VA: The way I see it, Kage is attacking Martin here!

Kage continues to land right hand after right hand to the side of Martin’s head before turning around and letting out a primal scream. He turns back and charges at Martin, clotheslining him in the corner. Martin slumps down, holding onto the corner with one hand as Kage spins back towards the center of the ring again before charging a second time and drilling Robertson with a knee in the corner.

MM: Chris Kage is on fire here early!

VA: Well, when you attack someone BEFORE THE BELL…

MM: Is that all yo…

VA: BEFORE. THE. BELL.

MM: Vinc…

VA: BE…

MM: Vince, ca…

VA: BEFO…

MM: (sighs)

Kage pulls Martin out of the corner by his head, and Robertson immediately falls down to the mat. No pin attempt by Kage, though, as he starts to stomp away at the back of Robertson. Three kicks later, Kage winds up and drops an elbow across the back of Robertson, flattening him out on the mat. Kage immediately pops up, standing over the head of Robertson. He bends down, picking Robertson up by the head with both hands, but before he pulls Robertson all the way up, he hooks his arms under Martin, throwing him back down to the mat with a double underhook suplex before going for a cover…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW.. KICKOUT BY ROBERTSON!

MM: Kage, like Robertson, very proficient in the amateur style of wrestling, and is showing off his skills here early on.

VA: Kicks and elbows are amateur style?

MM: No, but that double underhook suplex was pretty textbook.

VA: Stop trying to sound so smart, with your textbooks. What’s next, should we give everyone Trapper Keeper’s?

Kage picks up Robertson and whips him into the ropes, catching him with a clothesline, sending Robertson back down to the mat just as quick as he was up. Kage starts to stalk Robertson as he starts to try and slide away from the former multi-time World Heavyweight Champion. As Martin slides back into the corner, a shocked look comes across his face, realizing he doesn’t have many places to go. Martin starts to pull himself up as Kage continues to slowly stalk the second generation wrestler.

MM: What’s Martin doing?

VA: He wants a time out, Malone. Maybe take a breather, get a glass of water or something?

MM: A glass of water?

VA: Yeah, it’s tough ruling a kingdom. Maybe he’s a little parched.

Martin puts his hands up toward Kage, but Kage smiles at him, having none of it, lunging in towards Martin…

MM: OH! NOW WHAT IS THAT?

VA: A thumb to the eye, Malone! Difficult to master, deadly when used correctly!

MM: Difficult to master? Like your continued failed attempts at dating?

VA: Wow… that hurt, Malone. Words do hurt, you know.

Kage spins around, holding his left eye after the thumb Martin placed there. He straightens up, walking back towards Robertson, but turns right into another thumb, this time to the right eye!

MM: What kind of wrestling is this?

VA: It’s effective, isn’t it? Your opponent can’t hit you if they can’t see you!

As Kage holds his right eye now, Martin grabs Kage by the head and dumps him to the outside of the ring through the ropes before dropping down to a knee for a moment. Alyssa backs up away from Kage as Stacy starts to make her way over towards that side of the ring. Martin rolls out of the ring, looking towards Alyssa first, smiling, before he turns towards Stacy, who stops in her tracks near the corner post. Martin smiles as he reaches down, holding Kage at bay by his head. He smiles at Stacy, sending a kiss her way before thrusting his pelvis at her a couple of times!

MM: What a vile human being Martin has turned out to be!

VA: He’s just letting her know what kind of real man she’s missing out on, now that she’s married to Kage!

Alyssa yells at Martin, who turns back towards Kage, dropping a double axehandle across the back of Kage’s neck. Still doubled over, Martin throws Kage into the guard rail surrounding the ring, watching as Kage crumples into a pile at the base of the rail. He walks over to Kage, stomping on him twice as Martin looks up at the fans.

Martin Robertson: HAIL TO THE KING! (he points towards a ringside fan) Sit down, fat boy!

As Martin and the fan continue to argue at ringside, Alyssa walks over and now she’s yelling at the fan as well!

MM: Do these two really need to belittle every single fan they come in contact with?

VA: They need to show the peasants where they rank in feudal system of the EWA Kingdom… the Kingdom of the Three Kings!

MM: You’ve really bought into it, didn’t you?

VA: Annual membership. Only cost me $499 a year.

Martin picks up Kage from the floor, blasting him with a right hand just as he gets him back to a vertical base, but Kage responds back with a right hand of his own! But Martin is quick to return the favor, kicking Kage in the midsection before turning and throwing him back into the ring. Martin turns around one last time to yell at the fan before rolling back into the ring himself. Martin stands up and starts to track down Kage, grabbing him by the right arm, pulling him up before whipping him into the ropes before dropping Kage on the rebound with a spinning heel kick. Martin right back up, but a spinning leg drop lands across the chest of Kage.

MM: A good series of offense from Robertson here… COVER…

ON… WHAT?

MM: Why did Martin pull up Kage?

VA: Look at him, he’s telling Alyssa that he’s not done punishing Kage for his insubordination! Not yet…

Martin pulls Kage all the way back up to his feet, before wrapping his arms around Kage, sending him back down to the mat once again with a belly to belly suplex. Instead of popping back up, though, Martin slides out of the ring, reaching in and pulling Kage towards the apron, draping Kage’s head just off the apron. As the ref looks down at Martin, he turns his back to the ref, putting Kage in a headlock, but is actually choking Kage with the opposite hand! The ref tries to reach out to stop Martin, but since he won’t, he starts a count of 5, with Martin breaking the hold just before the 5 count. But just as he breaks the hold, he now blatantly chokes Kage right in front of the ref, who begins his count again. Martin breaks the hold just before 5 again, holding his hands up in the air towards the ref.

MM: Why is Martin doing this? We all know he’s a much more accomplished wrestler than this!

VA: It’s justice, Malone. Swift, severe justice for costing the Three Kings the World Heavyweight Title!

Kage rolls back in towards the center of the ring as Martin turns towards Stacy, winking at her once again before rolling back into the ring. Martin heads right towards Kage, picking him up and slapping him across the face before whipping him into the corner. Martin turns, holding up three fingers towards the crowd before turning back towards the corner and charging at Kage. Just at the last second, though, Kage rolls away, and Martin crashes into the corner hard. Martin stumbles out of the corner as Kage holds onto the ropes, trying to recompose himself. Martin sees Kage and charges, but Kage ducks, back body dropping Martin over the top rope! But Martin lands on his feet on the ring apron, holding onto the top rope! Kage turns to see Robertson, who swings towards Kage, but Kage ducks and Kage hits Robertson with his own right hand! Kage lands a second right to Robertson, who’s stunned on the apron. Kage rushes to the opposite ropes…

MM: What is Kage doing…

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”
“HO-LY SHIT!”
“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

 

MM: HE JUST SPEARED ROBERTSON THROUGH THE ROPES, SENDING HIM INTO THE GUARDRAIL!

VA: We all knew Chris Kage had a death wish by messing with the Three Kings… but who knew he’d be his own executioner!

Kage, clutching his ribs, stands up and pumps his fist as Robertson is lying motionless against the guardrail. Stacy is now over by Kage, and she gives him a high five. Kage pulls Martin’s lifeless body away from the guardrail, slamming him head first into the ring apron before pushing him back into the ring. Kage climbs up on the ring apron, but just as he goes to get back into the ring…

MM: What’s Alyssa doing?

VA: I think she’s trying to tell Kage his wrestling boots are untied. What a great person she is!

MM: I highly doubt that… but here’s Stacy with a huge shove on Alyssa!

VA: YES! CAT FIGHT!

MM: Unfortunately, your dream won’t come true. Danny Smith is out now between the two women, although I don’t know if he’ll be able to hold them back!

VA: I think I should go help…

MM: Sit. Down. Kage back in the ring… OH! Low blow by Robertson!

VA: Right in the babymakers! (yelling) Stacy! They’re broken now! Come here, I’ll take his place!

Yes, Robertson kicked Kage square below the belt, and Kage is now doubled over, holding his groin, trying to recover from the blow. The girls finally start to back away from each other as Danny Smith climbs back into the ring, looking at the situation, questioning Robertson what happened who, of course, is playing innocent. Martin, in one motion, turns around and blasts Kage across the side of the head with a right hand! Kage spins around, heading towards a corner for a little protection, but while he’s facing the corner, Martin charges and lands a set of double knees to the back of Kage, pinning him to the corner!

MM: There’s the knees… is he going for Pure Perfection?

VA: Which one?

MM: That’s…. A good question.

Martin backs up as Kage turns around, stumbling out of the corner…

MM: Martin… SUPERKI… NO! KAGE CAUGHT IT! Leg sweep to bring Martin dow… OH!

VA: That’s an illegal blow! Danny Smith should disqualify him!

MM: I think Danny Smith is doing the right thing in letting it go.

VA: Stop being so biased!

Kage did a very questionable double leg drop between the legs of Martin, who’s now rolling around on the mat in pain…

MM: Kage, sensing an opening, quickly up to the top rope… NIAGARA FALL…

VA: YES!

MM: Chris Kage with the high risk maneuver, but this time it failed, as Robertson rolled out of the way of that shooting star press. Martin back to his feet, pulling up Kage… is he…

VA: I think this might be the PERFECT ENDING to this match, Malone! Get it? Huh? Huh?

MM: Yeah, I get it. Martin hooks up Kage, takes a quick look out towards Alyssa… PERFECT ENDI…

VA: NO!

MM: Kage floats over, breaking Martin’s grip… CRACKDOWN! KAGE JUST NAILED ROBERTSON WITH CRACKDOWN! COVER…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

MM: Martin’s struggling….

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

VA: Did he get him?

 

 

NR: The winner of this match, by pinfall… ‘THE INCOMPARABLE’…. CHRIS KAGE!

MM: Yes he did! Martin didn’t kick out in time, and Kage successfully defeats one of the Three Kings!

VA: Where’s the instant replay? Where’s the challenge flag?

MM: Not here, Vince. The victory will stand!

VA: I don’t know, Malone… look at Martin and Alyssa in the ring, right in the face of the ref! She’s laying a verbal beat down into Danny Smith!

MM: She can yell all she wants, but it’s going to go down in the record book as a victory for Chris Kage! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Robertson this furious… and I admit, I like it!

VA: What do you mean you like it? Mr. Fair and Impartial is definitely not impartial right now!

MM: As Chris and Stacy stand on the entrance ramp celebrating the win, we have so much more in store for you tonight! We’ll be right back after this word from our sponsors!

CHRIS KAGE DEFEATED MARTIN ROBERTSON VIA PINFALL (10:47)



(Heavy guitar riffs boom over the Public Address system as “Monster” by Skillet floods the arena. As the lyrics smoothly blend into the music, a well-dressed man in a suit with briefcase in hand emerges from the entrance way and stands off to the side without emotion.)

MM: This song doesn’t belong to any current talent on the EWA roster and that man standing up there doesn’t look like anybody we’ve ever seen. He doesn’t look like the wrestling type either. The crowd sure seems to like the music at least.

(The brief jovial moment the crowd was experiencing from the music is immediately replaced by an overwhelming amount of boos when the next man emerges from the entrance way. With microphone in hand he stands next to the emotionless man with a slight smirk upon his face, giving some kind of instructions. He offers up a nod as the smirking man turns and makes his way to the ring.)

VA: I think you spoke too soon, Malone. I know there isn’t a lot of people in the locker room that know this guy but every fan out there in attendance tonight and us announcers know who that is. Cronos Diamante has been one of the most influential forces in professional wrestling for the past two decades. The music is appropriate. Hahaha.

(As Vincent Ashe talks, Cronos continues to smirk at the crowd that has somehow managed to transition from an overwhelming chorus of boos to a mixed reaction with even a few cheers managing to slip through the louder more negative tones. He ascends the steel steps and steps into the ring, looking out at the capacity crowd in London, England.)

I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

(Cronos makes the cutting motion at his neck and the music is immediately shut off. He stands there silent as he turns around in the ring, gauging exactly how much hatred London still has for him. Instead of being met with boos and negativity, his silence is being matched by the sold out capacity crowd. Cronos drops the smirk and brings the microphone to his mouth, expecting the crowd to erupt but they don’t.)

Cronos Diamante: Interesting. European countries tend to have long memories. Has it been that long that you forgot what happened the last time I was here in London? I mean…

(Cronos’ comments fire the crowd up to the point that they begin reigning down a chorus of boos on him. He stands there emotionless, much like the man watching from the entrance way as the fans let him have it.)

MM: I’m gonna take a stab here and say that he shouldn’t have reminded this capacity crowd of what he did back in early 2004.

VA: Why not? He beat a guy within an inch of his life, a fan favorite, and after the match spilled into the streets of London he threw him off London Bridge. Was a miracle the guy came back after that. I miss guys like Cronos.

(After the crowd dials back its disapproval a bit, Cronos continues on.)

Cronos Diamante: I digress. I’m not out here to trudge up those old memories. So why am I? And who’s the man with the six-thousand dollar suit? Good questions. One’s I have answers for. After we take a trip down recent memory lane. I know why you all started out with that mixed reaction. Some of you were probably front and center for when I was handed tragedy at the hands of a man, a partner and student even, that equals and perhaps surpasses how brutal I can be. Perhaps I deserved it. Perhaps it was karma. I’ve been through some real heartbreak recently. What happened to me humanizes even a man like me. I lost everything that kept me grounded. I lost everything that gave me a competitive edge. And, perhaps most of all, I lost everything that gave me hope. In spite of all this, it doesn’t mean I stopped paying attention to the sport I l… love.

(Cronos pauses for a moment and looks out at a crowd that has started to transition to cheering him on, especially after getting choked up when saying the word “love.” Before they get the chance to build any momentum, however, he cuts them off.)

Cronos Diamante: So who do the fans and the people in EWA get as a result of that? The Devil that deceived and manipulated and loved to watch the world burn? He was a fun guy, wasn’t he? You guys remember that guy when I was here last, throwing a man off your beloved London bridge. Heh. The Honorable man that stood up to monsters, fought clean and by the book and saved men and women from losing themselves to the darkness? That guy saved Marcus Mirage and Sahara multiple times over. Can’t be a bad thing, can it? Even though I’m aware of what Lauren has turned into here in EWA. Nobody is truly beyond redemption though are they? Maybe the man that conjured all the hatred he could muster and sent a man to his destruction? I’ve crucified three people when channeling every ounce of hatred I refuse to let go of. That’s why I have those crucifixes in the heel of my right boot.

(Cronos leans against the ropes, letting the question sink in as fans boo and cheer at him split right down the middle. Being reminded of all of it all at once showed the hearts of the fans in the crowd; those that looked for the good in people cheered and those that were more like Cronos than they’d like to admit bood.)

MM: This crowd doesn’t know what to make of the man they’re seeing today. Some of them seem to think he’s going to be that same old Devil they’re used to and others remember the Honorable Man he was.

VA: Personally I want the deliciously deceptive Devil to come back to our sport. Nobody plays mind games better than Cronos Diamante. I know he’s gone through a lot recently and lost everything but…

Cronos Diamante: None of them!

(The crowd and the announcers are shocked and go completely silent with Cronos’ announcement and with that Cronos’ lips curl up into a grin, one that has pain in it but a grin nonetheless. A pain that only someone who has lost everything they care about in life could ever understand.)

Cronos Diamante: All of them!

(The capacity crowd in London is on their feet and remains completely silent, not knowing how to react to this man before them. This Cronos Diamante is nothing like the one of the past, save the combat boots and leather.)

Cronos Diamante: When I lost everything, I went back to my roots people. I went back to being a soldier at a PMC called Paladin International where I met that man up there and after enough time had passed and I numbed the pain enough, we decided it was time I come back to the wrestling world with a brand new bag. In some ways I’d say I’m a better man than I was and in some ways I’d say I’m worse too. But that’s not what you want to hear. You want the meat and potatoes, you want answers to the obvious questions. To be perfectly honest fans… I’ve seen and done it all in this profession. I’ve been the bad guy, I’ve been the good guy, I’ve been the guy who doesn’t give a damn and does whatever he feels like. I’ve fought legends, monsters, and unbeatable pariahs. I’ve started and ended revolutions. I’ve won every championship you can think of. I don’t want what the others do because I’ve already had it. Multiple times over. So why come back? Because I still enjoy being a violent psychopath like the rest of you in that locker room. Good, bad, in the middle… it all matters very little. So now? Now I’m the guy that you hire for a job that you need done. Maybe I’m just extra insurance or maybe you prefer not to get your hands dirty but you know you need to in order to achieve your goals and I make you feel cleaner. You need someone protected like the honorable man I was? Pay me or trade something of worth. You need that evil, deceitful son of a bitch everyone hates to give you the most devilish mind fuck of all time? Pay me or trade something of worth. You simply need someone eliminated? Well I’m becoming a broken record at this point.

I think you get it. EWA has been put on notice. My services are for hire starting now and you can contact my associate Slade Volkov up there to set everything up. If you have the currency, I’ll do the job. Protect or Destroy, its your choice.

(With that Cronos drops the microphone in the middle of the ring as the crowd is abuzz not cheering or booing but neighbors in seats bantering back and forth with one another on what this could mean for EWA and Professional Wrestling as a whole.)

MM: It’s clear to me now that the tragedy Cronos has suffered has irrevocably changed the man. Love him or hate him, he at least stood for something for the past two decades and that’s why everyone respected him. Now he’s just a common mercenary. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

VA: Say what you want, Malone, but this is Cronos Diamante we’re talking about. His calling card used to be destroying wrestlers and their careers. I saw the evil in that man up close and personal as a fan and now he’s selling it to the highest bidder? Regardless of how you feel, there will be plenty of people on this roster willing to pay for the ruthlessness that is inherently inside that monster of a man.

MM: I would be remiss if I didn’t likewise mention that he hasn’t just been a destroyer of careers in his most recent years and say that he’s just as capable of protecting people as he is destroying them. So I will have to concede that no matter my personal feelings on Cronos Diamante here in EWA, he will always have work to do. Nonetheless, let’s go up to the ring for our next contest!


TANYA BLACK VS HANK

GRUDGE MATCH

MM: This epic EWA event continues now with a match that has the forums ablaze with activity. It’s Tanya Black’s dream come true as she comes face to face with a continuously controversial member of the EWA.

VA: Hank.. why didn’t you say his name, Malone??

MM: I didn’t think I needed too, Vince.

VA: You think Hank’s the only EWA employee that’s continuously controversial?

MM: No, I think Hank’s the only one facing Tanya Black in a grudge match tonight.

VA: Oh..

MM: Idiot. Let’s go over to Nikki Rogers.

Nikki Rogers is waiting in the ring and we cut to her right on cue.

NR: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest, set for one fall, is a Grudge Match!

The arena lights drop to a deep blood red as ‘Red Right Hand’ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds begins to play.

NR: Introducing first, weighing in at 295 pounds, HANK!

Hank emerges from behind the curtain looking remarkably clean compared to his usual standard of hygiene. He’s wearing brand new black jeans, leather biker boots and a black t-shirt

VA: I think he’s had a shower Malone!

MM: That’s going to make our job easier, Vince.

Hank puts his arms straight out to his sides finally revealing the two gleaming silver forks in his hands. He enters the ring and glares at referee Rick Iley and immediately begins audibly threatening him.

Hank: Watch ya back Iley, I told ya I’m watchin’ ya. I know where ya mum lives, right?

Referee Iley holds his hands out in front of him, letting Hank know he fully intends to call this one right down the middle as usual.

The voice of Tanya Black interrupts causing the crowd to erupt.

 

THE FIGHT BEGINS NOW

 

“Lights Go Out” by Fozzy makes the fans explode and Tanya quickly emerges from behind the curtain staring daggers right at Hank. She slowly closes her eyes and looks towards the heavens, her face a picture of seriousness. A deep, cleansing breath later and her face breaks out into an incredible smile as she embraces the adoration of her crowd. Her approach to the ring slows down as she approaches the ringside area.

MM: She’s motioning for Referee Rick Iley to make Hank get rid of his forks!

VA: But Hank’s having none of it, Malone. No way not this time.

MM: You hate those forks as much as I do, Vince.

VA: Yeah, but I’m just saying…

Hank grabs Iley by the shirt and threatens to do what he does best. Iley continues to try in vain to get himself free from Hank’s grasp.

???: WOAH WOAH WOAH, Wait a minute here now. Wait one dang minute!

VA: What the.. Who’s this now?

From behind the curtain Head Referee Danny Smith springs out into the entrance way, microphone in hand.

MM: It’s DANNY SMITH!

VA: What the hell is he doing here?

Danny Smith: Hank, did you really think you got away with kidnapping my grand children? Did you really think we were just going to forgive and forget?

Hank looks around, slightly confused, and then nods his head.

Danny Smith: No way, Jose. This is what’s gonna happen right now. Right now it’s my turn! I’m the Senior Head Referee FOR A REASON!

VA: What is happening, Malone?!

MM: He’s about to tell us…

Danny Smith makes his way to ringside to stand just to the side of Tanya Black. He says something into her ear and she nods before they both make their way into the ring, keeping plenty of distance between Hank and themselves. Hank is frothing at the mouth, shouting streams of anger at them. He’s so loud he doesn’t need a mic.

Hank: I knew it! I fuckin’ knew ya were a dirty bastard, Smith! Fuckin’ settin’ this one up ‘gainst me ‘gain, ey? AREN’T YA?! I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I’d end ya whole bloodline! DID YA NOT UNDERSTAND, YA BASTARD?! AND YOU! Tanya Bloody Black miss I wanna prove it to m’self’n everyone else. BULLSHIT! Ya can’t fuck me over if ya dead, but. Guess this is gonna turn into a snuff film then!

VA: Oh no. I’m feeling a little unwell and I might need to go to the back until this whole thing is over, Malone.

MM: You stay right there. Danny Smith is the Head Referee for a reason.

Danny Smith: Wait a second now, Hank. This is what’s happening right now. Referee Rick Iley is being relieved of service in this match.

MM: Who’s the referee then?

Danny Smith: I’ll be taking over the refereeing duties for this match.

The crowd roars their approval.

Danny Smith: And my first act of business will be to confiscate any foreign objects from YOU HANK!

Hank spits at Referee Danny Smith as his way of saying no way but he offers for Smith to come to try and take them from him. Tanya Black smirks at Hank, her eyes never leaving the giant psycho.

Danny Smith: Then with the power vested in me as the Senior Head Referee of the EWA, I declare this match to be NO DISQUALIFICATION!

The crowd goes absolutely bananas and Hank begins to laugh hysterically as he seems to point to all of the places on his body where he has hidden a fork.

VA: Honestly, how much does this guy spend on forks?!

MM: And we only pay him two thousand dollars a week, Vince.

Danny Smith: I’m not done yet, Hank. My second act is going to be to even the odds just a little bit. I mean, you’ve got all those forks, right?

Danny Smith motions to an official at ringside who nods and goes under the ring. Seconds later he hands something to Smith but we can’t quite.. IT’S TANYA BLACK’S LEAD PIPE!! Smith hands the weapon to Tanya Black and he calls for the bell as the crowd goes absolutely mental. Hank charges with his forks but Tanya blocks them with her weapon before using it to smack the forks away. Hank takes a moment to push past the pain in his hands which is all the time Tanya needs. Going low she slams the pipe into the left knee and then the right knee. Hank falls down and is kneeling on the ground. Tanya grins and begins unleashing Muay Thai style kicks to his head and chest each one causing a renewed pop from the crowd. With Hank looking stunned Tanya takes a step back before hitting a hard Enzuiguri to the back of the head that actually gets Hank down on the mat.

MM: What an amazing series of kicks by Tanya Black! She is hitting hard and often to stymie the monster.

VA: Maybe she’ll literally kick his head off. That would be a good day.

Only a moment after hitting the mat Hank lifts himself back up. Tanya hits a series of chops but Hank rises up as if not feeling the blows. Grabbing up Tanya by both hands Hank sneers and tosses Tanya over the top rope causing her to crash awkwardly on the floor hard enough to bounce and smack against the security barrier. Taking a moment to taunt the referee, Hank leaves the ring and stalks Tanya who is trying to stand up and shake off the cobwebs. Hank simply lifts her up again and slams her spine against the top of the barrier before lifting Tanya over his head in a press slam and tossing Tanya into the audience, knocking down several fans. Hank laughs and rolls into the ring before demanding that Smith begin counting which he reluctantly does.

MM: What a series of moves! I think Tanya is going to get counted out minutes into the match.

VA: This sick S.O.B. is loving this. He wants to show Tanya never had a chance to compete with him.

 

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

THREE

 

 

Tanya makes it to her feet and the fans help her up over the barrier as she clears her head.

 

 

FOUR

 

 

FIVE

 

 

SIX

 

 

Staggering towards the ring Tanya flips off Hank who pulls out a new pair of forks from his shirt.

 

 

SEVEN

 

 

EIGHT

 

 

NINE

 

 

Tanya rolls in and Hank charges to stab her but Tanya hits the drop toe hold tangling Hank’s head and arms up in the ropes. Stomping on his back a couple times Tanya jumps in the air and slams both knees into his spine. Backing off Tanya grabs up her pipe and as Hank tries to stand up Tanya takes a couple steps and swings the pipe like a bat into the face of Hank who staggers and falls back into the corner, clutching at his bleeding face which makes the fans cheer louder than ever.

VA: Hank is busted open again!

MM: This will enrage the beast. I hope she has plans for what comes next.

Hank stands in the corner trying to deal with his bleeding face when Tanya charges with a Stinger Splash. The result is Hank flops back into the corner trying to get his thoughts straight. Skipping to the center of the ring Tanya shakes her hips for a moment before charging, diving at Hank and driving both knees into his chest driving the oxygen out of Hank. With the fans egging her on Tanya drags Hank out of the corner and hits the reverse neckbreaker. Seeing her opponent down, Tanya goes up to the top rope. Urging the fans to get louder, Tanya takes her time and leaps off going for the flying elbow drop. Alas, Hank rolls out of the way and Tanya crashes to the mat. Snarling at her, Hank grabs up Tanya by her hair. Mocking Tanya, Hank punches her in the skull a few times before hauling her up. Running across the ring Hank hits a hard power slam. Standing up Hank wipes the blood out of his eyes before kicking Tanya in the gut as she tries to get off the mat. Ignoring Danny Smith who can’t disqualify Hank, the large man lifts Tanya up and with a sick look he hits the falling powerslam, squashing Tanya between his body and the mat. As the fans gasp and boo, Hank stands back up still holding onto Tanya. Laughing Hank hits the fallaway slam tossing Tanya far enough she lands next to the ropes and rolls out of the ring.

MM: This can’t last forever. Every move Hank hits is like fives moves from Tanya. He’s twice her weight and every fiber of his being is geared towards dismantling people.

VA: I hate this man, Malone. I really do. The referee has a choice about calling the match if Tanya can’t compete. It’s in his hands.

Hank watches Tanya try to stand up but fall back down. Grabbing her ribs for a moment Tanya tells Danny Smith she’s okay and manages to stand. Taking a moment to steady herself Tanya slides into the ring and manages to rush past the advancing Hank, bouncing off the far ropes to build momentum. The fans cheer as Tanya hits a full-speed lariat that staggers Hank. Tanya hits the ropes again and hits another lariat that keeps Hank off-balance. Hearing the fans chant “ONE MORE TIME” Tanya goes for the lariat and finally gets Hank down to a knee. Screaming in fury, Tanya runs and hits the Epiphany from the East! Hank falls flat to the mat as Tanya falls to her knees, struggling to catch her breath as she feels her injured ribs again. Hearing the fans cheer and encourage her to keep fighting, Tanya stands and sees Hank stirring. Before he can get to his feet Tanya hits a series of palm strikes to his chest followed by a vicious backfist to the face that fells Hank for a moment.

VA: Don’t stop! Keep hitting him! Damnit where are her weapons? This is still No DQ!

MM: And all through this, every time Tanya hits the head, Hank bleeds a little more. He got busted open early and hasn’t stopped.

VA: Even a crimson mask doesn’t stop Hank. He’s like Jason Vorhees. Or Mike Myers.

MM: John Carpenter or Rob Zombie?

VA: Nerd. Either way you’re getting broken in half. I hate those guys, they always kill sluts. Who hates women that want to have sex on the first date? Hank does! Jackass!

Grabbing Hank’s massive arms Tanya locks on the Japanese Stranglehold and Danny Smith moves into position to see if Hank is going to tap out. Straining hard Tanya blinks sweat from her eyes as she screams at Hank to give up but Hank resists and struggles on the ground. To the surprise of the fans Hank manages to get up to his feet while being choked out. The fans scream hatred at Hank as he refuses to give in and stands tall. Letting go of the move Tanya immediately jumps up again and hits the confused Hank with a Lungblower that leaves both wrestlers on the mat.

 

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

THREE

 

 

FOUR

 

 

The fans cheer loud as Tanya kips up and rips off her shirt. Tossing it to the crowd she hits the leg drop on Hank. A few fans fight over her tanktop but the rest are watching as she gets on the bottom rope and hits another leg drop to the chest of Hank. The fans get louder as Tanya scales the second rope and hits the third leg drop that leaves Hank stunned on the mat with no oxygen. Finally scaling the top rope Tanya leaps off and hits the final leg drop that finishes off her combo.

MM: Heavenly Descents! Even Hank has to be feeling that!

VA: Four leg drops each one with more height and force. That can crack a sternum as Tanya hits the same spot each time.

Hooking the near leg Tanya goes for the pinfall as the fans count along.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!..

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

The entire arena deflates as Hank sits up with a surprised Tanya steeling her determination. Hank gets up to his feet as Tanya runs the ropes but as she goes for the Trouble In Paradise Hank simply catches her and hits a sidewalk slam. Standing up tall Hank checks for his forks but then waves it off. Screaming at Tanya ‘YOU WANT SOME RASSLIN’?’ Hank hits the ropes and as Tanya stands up and turns Hank nails her with a running boot that floors Tanya, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head. Hank merely laughs as Danny Smith goes to check on her. Hank takes a moment to look around and smirks as he rips the turnbuckle pad off a nearby corner. With Danny Smith ruling Tanya can still compete as she begins reaching for the ropes to pull herself up, Hank grabs up Tanya and batters her in the sides with his fists. Tanya is stunned and unable to do anything as Hank scoops her up and hits a Snake Eyes on the exposed turnbuckle which busts open Tanya. Wiping his own blood off his face, Hank sees Tanya’s blood and laughs at it. Setting Tanya up in the corner Hank unleashes a vicious series of punches and elbows to the head opening the wound up more.

MM: The fans hate this and I can’t disagree. Hank’s attacks just feel so brutal and personal. He gets pleasure from slowly torturing her.

VA: I blame Danny Smith. Hank could have forked Tanya early and called it a day. But No! Danny Smith had to let these two brawl like hooligans!

MM: Someone warn Whitechapel because Hank may want a few more female victims before he leaves London!

Hank drags Tanya to the center of the ring and flips off the fans before lifting Tanya Black up high. Dropping Tanya with a hard powerbomb, Hank shocks the fans by holding on and hitting Tanya with a second and third powerbomb. The fans boos get louder with each attack and Hank just laughs it off before lifting Tanya up for the fourth powerbomb. Shaking his head no, Hank lifts Tanya up and hits the fifth powerbomb before falling to the mat himself. Sitting there Hank shakes his head and looks a little loopy.

MM: Blood loss might finally be kicking in. Hank is wearing down.

VA: Yeah but Tanya may be dead. Five powerbombs from a brute like this? How do you keep fighting back from that?

MM: I’d have begged for death after that big boot.

Recovering his senses Hank rolls out of the ring. Reaching under the apron, Hank pulls out a folding table. Putting the table in the ring, Hank waves off Danny Smith who can’t do anything but beg Hank not to do it. Setting up the table Hank checks it’s positioning. Picking up the still out-of-it Tanya Hank grips her with one hand as he climbs up the ropes. Dragging his prey with him, Hank goes up until he’s balancing on the top rope and standing tall. Lifting Tanya up the fans panic as he sets Tanya up for the aptly named Attempted Murder. Holding her in position Hank looks at Danny Smith and then at the fans who are screaming at Hank.

MM: He can’t… from that high up… through a table! Vincent do something!

VA: I can’t. Tanya’s career may end here tonight. I hate Hank but Tanya asked for this!

Stalling as he steadies his balance and checks his aim, Hank and all the fans in attendance are surprised when Tanya starts to struggle free. Elbowing and kicking Tanya manages to loosen Hank’s grip as he worries about falling. Shifting around Tanya falls back against Hank and locks on the Kama Suture on the top rope! The fans go nuts as Hank is choked out while two elbows ram into his kidneys, Tanya hanging upside down along his back. Hank tries to peel her off but he can’t attack her and maintain his balance on the top rope. His face going pale Hank teeters and falls forward, a huge CRASH echoing around the arena as Hank’s upper body goes through the table and slams onto the mat, Tanya stuck for the ride.

 

“HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!”

 

MM: I don’t… that unique submission Tanya Black calls the Kama Suture just might have won the match. What a counter!

VA: From the jaws of defeat the woman who calls herself The Survivor may have just earned the right to that name.

With both wrestlers tangled in each other and the broken table Danny Smith counts again, not sure what is going to happen next.

 

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

THREE

 

 

FOUR

 

 

FIVE

 

 

SIX

 

 

SEVEN

 

 

EIGHT

 

 

Tanya gets up and manages to roll Hank over! The fans chant along as Tanya drapes herself over Hank.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR…NO!

 

 

Danny Smith waves off the count as Hank gets one shoulder off the mat at the last possible moment. Tanya sits on the mat panting and staring wide-eyed at Hank who stirs and sits up. With the fans chanting for her Tanya forces herself up. Kicking Hank several times Tanya keeps him down and builds up her own adrenaline. Forcing herself up to the ropes, Tanya catches Hank as he stands up with a desperation missile dropkick that sends Hank into the table debris breaking it into more pieces. Waving off the referee Tanya moves to the apron. The fans pop huge as Tanya lines up her shot, her eyes aflame as she follows the staggering movements of Hank. With Hank taking spotting her Tanya springboards and before the dazed Hank can think to counter, Tanya hits The Divine Kiss slamming Hank face first into the mat! Hooking both legs with supreme effort, the tired Tanya Black straddles Hank and the entire arena counts along.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

NR: Ladies and Gentlemen! Your Winner By Pinfall Tanya Black!

MM: She’s done it! Tanya Black has slain the beast! The angel just sent the devil back to hell!

VA: She has forsworn her mantle of the Steel Angel but I don’t doubt that God shines down on Tanya Black tonight. A miracle victory over a brute who wanted her hide! A huge win in London for the veteran that means this rivalry needs a tie-breaker!

MM: I suspect Tanya and Hank will need hospital treatment before that rubber-match.

With Lights Go Out blaring over the speakers Tanya rolls out of the ring and celebrates with fans at ringside, hugging several people and even kissing a lucky local who is proudly wearing his Tanya Black t-shirt. Finally she walks up the ramp as EMTs rush out, half checking on Tanya the other half checking on Hank who has started to move in the ring.

MM: Let’s, ah go to an interview or something. We’ll need a few minutes to clear the ring for the next match.

VA: Listen to those fans cheer! They love an underdog and Tanya loves the EWA fans! I want to kiss a fan! Not that dude though.

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: TANYA BLACK (13:57)



KHARRION VS ???

EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP - OPEN GAUNTLET MATCH

NR: The following contest is set for…!

WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHIN’ DOWN
THERE’S NOTHIN’ BUT A NOSEBLEED

Nikki’s voice is interrupted as the Rotted’s “Nothin’ but a Nosebleed” cues up. Jennifer Dowling struts her way through the entrance curtain sporting a Dietrich BLVNT FORCE BLITZKRIEG tee, cut up to be little more than a parka covering her shockingly athletic frame. As the London fans regale her with a primarily negative reaction, she cups her ear, searching for the few shouts of revelry scattered therein.

MM: Great. This farce is up next.

VA: What you call a farce is a huge opportunity for aspiring teams from all over the planet, Malone. When Kharrion made this open challenge a month ago, they didn’t restrict it just to the EWA, they challenged the entire world. Who knows who could show up?! Hell, we could have legends return, new faces show up, and maybe even a few new stars made!

Jennifer bows, quickly raising two fingers and showing them off to the entire arena.

MM: That’s just…rude…

VA: These Brits, always overdoing it. Adding u’s to words that don’t need, raising two fingers instead of just one, nationalizing their healthcare system…god, I’m glad we got out of here.

She motions for the music to be cut and is obliged, reaching behind her to pull a microphone from the waist of her jeans. Kazuya Ito rushes by her, shaking his head, and she jokingly “jerks” the microphone around her waist.

Jennifer Dowling: Nikki, Nikki, Nikki…listen, I’m real, real sorry to do this to you, hon, because you’ve got a lot of spunk and the voice of an angel undergoing chemo…

She pauses, letting the line soak in, and starts laughing at the chorus of groans.

Jennifer Dowling: Hey, KC dared me to say it, okay?! Nikki, I’m sorry, but you can sit this one out, sweetheart, because my boys, maybe better known as YOUR EWA Tag Team champions of the WORLD…

Boos, again. She hangs on the word “world,” letting its weight be felt by all.

Jennifer Dowling: …have personally requested that I announce their arrival. So, Mr. PA guy, if you please…?

Moments pass with Jennifer making her way down to the ring, re-spiking her hair as she steps into the ring.

WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHIN’ DOWN
THERE’S NOTHIN’ BUT A NOSEBLEED

KC Rockefeller moonwalks out from behind the curtain, his Tag Team title draped diagonally across his chest like a bandolier, and Johan Dietrich storms out behind him, errantly dragging a battered cooler behind him with one hand as the other steadies his own Tag belt over his shoulder.

Jennifer Dowling: The following contest is the one, the only, the KHARRION TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP GAUNTLET!!! Three randomly chosen teams, each having had their names put in a hat and drawn with a total lack of discrimination, will get their respective chances to topple the single most dominant pairing that the world of professional wrestling has ever seen!! Introducing first, the only legitimate fighting champions to ever step foot in the EWA locker room!

KC shadow boxes as Dietrich walks by him, Rockefeller casting his warm up aside to jump onto his friend’s back. The pair quickly make their way to the ring, Dietrich throwing his belt in and dropping the cooler on the apron as KC launches himself from Dietrich’s back to the ring apron.

Jennifer Dowling: First, he is artistic brilliance personified, the Cult Icon of Champion City, and the Brain behind the Braun…K!! C!! ROCKEFELLER!!!

KC bows and removes his white cowboy hat, slingshotting himself over the ropes and rolling to his knees inches away from Jennifer’s feet, dusting himself off as he scoops her in a huge hug, spinning her around the ring. The pre-match celebration is cut short as Dietrich snatches her away, throwing her up on his shoulders as she storms around the ring.

Jennifer Dowling: Next, the most feared gun in the history of this sport or any other, the Blvnt Force Blitzkrieg, don’t turn around because Der Kvlthammer’s in town…JOHAN DIETRICH!!!

Johan puts Jennifer back down on her feet and gives her a peck on the cheek, reaching out to the apron and pulling the cooler into the ring. KC removes his Tag belt and hands it to Jennifer after she scoops up Dietrich’s from the mat, Johan popping the cooler’s lid and producing a bottle of Sharp’s Cornish. He pops the cap and chugs away as the music dies, pacing back and forth with his eyes locked on the entrance curtain as Rockefeller places his white cowboy hat atop Jennifer’s head. She clears her throat, adjusting a necktie that doesn’t exist, and brings the mic back up.

Jennifer Dowling: Now, let’s bring out our first round of human sacrifices!

A bright yellowish hue comes over the arena…

MM: If there was ever a sign that this was all a farce!

VA: What the hell do you mean, Malone?!

Alex Boye’s “Lemonade” brings a steady clap through the crowd as Joe Lemon and Serpent Man, high on life and twice as sweet, make their way to the ring.

Jennifer Dowling: You know them, you love them, and you admit that you only appease them because they’re such easy prey, the team of Joe Lemon and Serpent Man…THE LEMONHEADS!!!

Joe, feeling the crowd, tries to clap along, but is horribly off-beat. Serpent Man, meanwhile, leans against the crowd barrier and nearly topples it over, backing away with a horrified look in his eye. As their music dies, both men step into the ring, Joe reaching his hand out to KC for a shake. Rockefeller obliges, emphatically wiping his hand against his tights to “clean” it after, and Dietrich chugs the last of his ale, ignoring Serpent Man.

Jennifer Dowling: Blah blah blah, say hello to Kazuya Ito, yadda yadda…LET’S RING THE BELL!!

Jennifer’s command is followed as Ito checks both teams, warning Dietrich about the beer in his hand.

MM: Dietrich…WITH THE BOTTLE!!!

Glass scatters from the impact over Serpent Man’s head, the remnants of the Sharp’s Cornish bottle in Dietrich’s hand tossed to the floor, and Joe Lemon looks in horror as blood trickles from his now unconscious partner’s head.

MM: Of all the cheap, lowdown, dirty…!!

Ito, shocked, looks on in horror as KC kicks Lemon low, hits the ropes, and then drives both boots into his head with the Cold Barrel Zero. Dietrich shoves Ito over to Lemon as both Kharrion brothers place a foot on Joe’s chest.

Jennifer Dowling: Oh…did I fail to mention that there are NOOOOOO disqualifications? I’m sorry. I’m new at this!!

VA: **unintelligible laughter**

As Ito hears the announcement, defeat washes over his face. He throws his arms up in the air and drops down, making the count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THREE!!!

The bell dings and Kharrion back away, KC bailing out to the floor for a victory lap around the ring as Dietrich leans against the corner. Queen’s “We Are the Champions” cues up at the chorus, with KC trying to lead the London crowd in a sing-along but to little avail.

MM: Weren’t you just saying this wasn’t a farce?!

VA: Hey, it’s not Kharrion’s fault that Joe and Serpent didn’t read the fine print!

MM: And that Jennifer forgot to mention this was No DQ?

VA: Malone, if we held every single mistake you ever made when you were new on the job under a microscope, then something tells me there’d be a huge Twitter campaign to get you fired, tarred, and feathered.

YOUR WINNERS, AND STILL EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: KHARRION (0:22)

Ringside personnel help Serpent Man and Joe Lemon leave the ring, and Jennifer hops onto the apron.

Jennifer Dowling: What a match, ladies and gentlemen, what a match! The honor, the athleticism, the sportsmanship…in twenty years, when your grandchildren ask you what you remember about this historic evening, surely the first thing that will pop into your heads is the time when Kharrion vanquished the mighty Lemonhead dragon! While you all, undoubtedly, need a breather after such a harrowing contest, life goes on, and so must the show! Without further adieu, challengers number two!!

Silence hangs over the arena as Dietrich circles the ring, a great white shark claiming the boundaries of its territory. KC swaggers over to the corner and lies down across the top ropes, checking his wrist as if there were a watch present while he taps his toe to an unheard melody.

MM: They’ve defeated one team in this gauntlet… any idea who’s ne…

Suddenly, the lights drop in the arena and a familiar red and orange glow rise up from the entrance area before we hear…

SEE THE FIELDS BURNING…
SEE THE FIELDS BURNING…
WELL I SEE THE FIELDS BURNING
‘CAUSE HELL IS COMING THROUGH
I CAN’T STOP…
THE DOGS OF WAR…

VA: What in the hell?!?

As the lights come back up and “Dogs of War” by Blues Saraceno continues to play over the loudspeakers, standing in the middle of the entrance ramp is the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Grady Smith. Dressed in his wrestling gear, wearing his trademark black cowboy hat and black duster, World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist, barely peeking through the jacket. Grady stands stoic on the entrance ramp, looking into the ring. Meanwhile, Deitrich and KC are looking at each other, baffled and confused…

VA: Is Grady really coming out to be destroyed by Kharrion tonight?

MM: I’m as completely baffled as you, Kharrion…frankly, as baffled as everyone in this arena probably is! But listen to the reception he’s getting here!

As the music dies down, a microphone slides out of the right sleeve of Grady’s jacket into his hand.

Grady Smith: Hello, I’m Grady Smith.

The crowd pops as Dietrich leans against the ropes, a fresh bottle of Sharp’s Cornish in hand, and KC crawls down from the top ropes.

Grady Smith: Not who you expected to see come out here at this moment, is it gentlemen?

MM: I don’t think anyone expected this, Vince!

VA: I think you mean, nobody wants to see this… unless it’s Grady getting his ass handed to him right now!

Grady Smith: Well, I was in the back, starting to warm up for my match, and I heard that you were looking for a real challenge for those belts you have. Now, I’ll admit, I’m not quite the tag team specialist that you two are…but I think, considering I’m the World Heavyweight Champion, I could put up a decent fight. What do you think, London?

The crowd pops once again.

MM: There’s no way he’s doing this, is there?

VA: If he did, he can kiss any chances of him keeping the World Heavyweight Title tonight goodbye! Which, might not be a bad thing…

Dietrich snickers and marches toward Jennifer, who hands him a microphone. He bites the cap and tears it off, spitting it toward the crowd, before taking a long swig and belching into the mic.

Johan Dietrich: Grady, I know how much rahspect ev’rybody’s got fuh ya, an’ shit, but that ain’t gonna mattah if ya keep runnin’ ya mouth off an’ stick ya gray bush in this ring. Paht a’ me’s wond’rin’ if I done fucked ya head up too bad when Cap’n A-Hav asked me ta get ya ready a while back, but anothah paht a’ me’s gettin’ kinda hahd jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout doin’ it again, so if ya wanna come on down heah with whoevah ya got at ya side, brothah, then let’s stop with the chit-chat bullshit an’ get right down ta business!!

The London crowd starts to roar at the idea of World Heavyweight champion Grady Smith squaring off with the EWA Tag Team champions, prompting Grady to take off his black cowboy hat and offer them a bow.

Grady Smith: If there’s one thing I’ve never done, it’s backed down from a challenge. So I suppose, if I’m going to do this, I’d need a partner, right? Hell, who am I kidding! If I’m going to be ready for my match against Ray Willmott later, I’d need…two partners!

VA: Yeah, two partners…and none of them being him!

Grady Smith: It just so happens, I have two people in the back that would join me for a fight in that ring. But then, let’s be honest here, these two individuals don’t need me to help them with anything…especially grabbing tag team gold.

MM: What in the hell is Grady talking about?

VA: I’m glad you’re finally realizing nobody else gets what ‘Old Man who Yells at Clouds’ is ever saying.

Grady Smith: Now, they’re not exactly dressed for a wrestling match, but that’s never stopped them from being one of the greatest tag teams in the history of wrestling…

VA: What?!?

Grady Smith: …so why don’t they just come out here, and give you two the fight you’re looking for!

MM: It can’t be…!!

We start to hear a very generic, 90’s bassline begin to play over the arena speaker system as a couple of random red lights come on in the arena, spinning similar to lights you’d see on the top of a police car, which perfectly match the very slow, methodical siren sound accompanying the baseline as we hear the introduction to “Fed Up” by House of Pain.

LORD HAVE MERCY
LORD, HAVE MERCY…

MM: OH! MY! GOODNESS!

VA: Oh, great, these guys again!

As the music continues to play, Grady has slowly moved off to the side of the entrance ramp as everyone in the arena has risen to their feet, looking up towards the entrance ramp. After a few more moments, we begin to see the backstage curtain begin to rustle.

GET UP, I’LL BREAK YA DOWN A LIL’ SOMETHIN
I’M FED UP, IT’S TIME TO GO HEADHUNTING

The pop in the arena is immense as, stepping through the curtain, are two very recognizable men. Both men are not dressed in traditional wrestling clothes, still in the casual attire they probably came into the arena with. The taller of the two gentlemen has on a black old school “Grady Smith” wrestling shirt, while the smaller of the two men – and small is a relative term as he’s almost the same size as Grady – is wearing a grey “Future Factory” t-shirt.

MM: PUBLIC ENEMY HAS RETURNED TO THE EWA!

VA: But really, did they ever leave? They latch onto Grady at every turn, they…!

MM: Calvin, the taller of the two, and Louis Walker, widely regarded as one of the greatest tag teams in the history of professional wrestling…they are one of two teams that have held the EWA World Tag Team titles on four separate occasions, and apparently they’re looking to make it five tonight!

VA: Isn’t it past their bedtime?

Watching Kharrion in the ring, they’ve gone from confusion before the announcement, to shock at the announcement, to now knowing that they’re going to have one heck of a fight on their hands, loosening back up for the legendary duo on the ramp. Meanwhile, on the ramp, Calvin and Louis both shake hands with Grady, as he heads back through the curtain. The brothers casually stride down to the ring as Kharrion quickly exit, trying to formulate a plan on combating the legendary duo.

MM: The surprises just continue to come here in London! Kharrion versus Public Enemy for the World Tag Team Titles!

VA: I hope they put these old dogs down to sleep. QUICK.

Calvin and Louis roll into the ring, circling around its perimeter and enjoying the fanfare before taking their corner. Dietrich slides into the ring and brandishes the bottle, a forced smirk on his face.

MM: Is…is he smiling?!

VA: Why wouldn’t he be, Malone? The best tag team in EWA today, the best tag team in EWA history, both in one ring…

MM: I think that’s a little hyperbolic.

VA: What? Who told you such lies?! I’ve never used any form of steroid in my LIFE, Malone!

MM: Oh jeez…

VA: Keep that up and I’ll sue you for slander, mister!

Johan pours the remaining foam onto the canvas and drops it to the mat, kicking it out of the ring. He nods, cracking his neck to either side, and holds his hands in the universally understood “bring it on” fashion.

VA: And THIS is why they’re the best team today! They see a challenge, they accept it, and they…wait, what’s KC up to?

KC slides into the ring and stands between Dietrich and Calvin, Louis taking the apron. The brothers of Kharrion look to each other and nod, with Johan leaving KC in the ring. Ito calls for the bell…

MM: KC Rockefeller, for maybe the first time in an officially sanctioned EWA World Tag Team title match, finds himself at a complete disadvantage where it matters the most. Height, weight, strength, experience…

Calvin looks for a lock up but KC goes behind, tripping his legs from behind him and flowing smoothly into a side headlock. The EWA legend easily turns the tide and forces himself up to his feet, but KC kicks blindly behind him, striking Calvin in the knee.

VA: …but certainly not strategy, Malone. Would you get your head out of your ass?

MM: …sonuva…

KC breaks the headlock and charges, springboarding off the ropes to look for a spinning wheel kick, but Calvin catches him in mid-air before tossing him into a neutral corner. Rockefeller barely has time to breathe before Calvin rushes in with an avalanche, dragging KC out to drop him with a snap suplex.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

Rockefeller kicks out and rolls over, covering the back of his head, and Calvin backs away to his brother, tagging Louis in. Rockefeller stands and holds his hands out to Johan, tagging the Hired Gun in. Louis, like his brother, goes for a lock up and, also like his brother, is gone behind. Dietrich, though, quickly hurls Louis off his feet and tosses him face-first into the corner, bouncing his nose off the top turnbuckle. Louis staggers out, clutching at his face, and turns just in time for Dietrich to hit the ropes, leveling him with a BRUTAL lariat.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

Louis kicks out to Dietrich’s amusement, the Worcester native snickering as he shoves his hand into Louis’ mouth.

Johan Dietrich: Sorry ‘bout this, brothah…

Johan stands and drags Louis up by the lower jaw, whipping him into the corner. Louis braces himself as Dietrich charges in, the Hired Gun’s boot drilling his midsection and sending every ounce of oxygen out of his lungs.

MM: Dietrich with the Drillbit Gvtfvck! He’s looking for the Seventh Seal…!

As Johan hoists Louis over his shoulder, a chair meets his knee. Holding that chair is Calvin and, as Louis slides his way to safety on the apron, he swings the chair again, connecting with a pair of shots to Dietrich’s knee that buckles the big man down. Ito screams at Calvin as KC rushes him from behind, jumping onto the veteran’s back and throwing every cross-face punch that he can.

VA: Wherever Dietrich may be, you can be your ass that KC Rockefeller isn’t far behind!

Johan rolls to the floor, clutching at his knee, and KC hits the ropes, looking for a tilt-a-whirl headscissors on Calvin. Calvin blocks it and drops KC with a backbreaker, quickly hauling him back to his feet before a sit-out powerbomb leads to the count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THR-!!!

MM: Rockefeller DEFIANT with that escape!!

Malone’s comments proves not to be embellishment as the camera zooms in on Rockefeller’s pair of raised middle fingers, his eyes glued shut with the dull pain and mouth contorting into a smile. Calvin stands, dragging KC back to his feet for another powerbomb attempt, but a chair comes soaring through the air…

MM: Calvin watch…OOOPH!!!

The chair cracks against the back of Calvin’s head and Louis slides in, checking on his brother. Another chair comes flying in as Dietrich pops up on the floor, ripping every chair he can find from under the ring and the front row.

Dietrich: Ya wanna pull some a’ that shit with ME, ya stupid bastahds? FINE!! LET’S FUCKIN’ GO!!

MM: Oh, what? You can’t win a fair fight so now you have to bring weapons back in it? Do you even know who you’re dealing with?!

Dietrich slides into the ring and pulls himself to his feet, shaking out his hurt knee, as he sets two chairs up back-to-back. Louis, holding shut a nice split by where his hairline once was, turns to eat a stiff right hand to jaw from Johan, knocking him loopy.

MM: DIETRICH WITH THE SAITO SUPLEX ONTO THOSE CHAIRS!!!

HO-LY SHIT!!
HO-LY SHIT!!

VA: Louis…Louis may literally be dead, Malone.

The chairs, blown apart by the impact of Louis’ head against the backrests, are kicked from the ring as KC sets up another pair of chairs, this time letting them face each other. Johan grabs Calvin by the throat, holding his face against the chairs as he points to the top.

VA: This is just gang violence right now.

MM: I…I don’t think I can watch this…not to the Walkers…

KC steps out onto the apron as Louis starts pulling himself to his feet in the corner, and Calvin fires off elbows to break free from Dietrich. Right hands follow, traded back and forth, until Dietrich rakes Calvin’s eyes and whips him into the ropes.

MM: Calvin off the ropes, ducks a clothesline…HUUUUUUGE BACK BODY DROP TO DIETRICH ONTO THOSE CHAIRS!!

Johan’s knee cracks the back of the set-up chair, his face immediately losing color as he grasps it, rolling to the apron. KC leaps off the top toward Louis, hooking him for a tornado DDT, but Calvin is quick with a chair to Rockefeller’s back that breaks his hold.

VA: Calvin’s looking to finish this NOW!!

Louis, still clutching his neck, rolls out of the ring as Calvin lines up a chair shot to Rockefeller. KC, laughing, looks Calvin in the eyes, drawing an “X” across his forehead with his thumb, sucking on it with a smile. Calvin shakes his head and readies the chair…

MM: What?! What the hell is she doing?!

In a flash, Jennifer Dowling darts into the ring, grabbing the chair from Calvin before bailing back out. He turns, furious, and starts to give chase before KC leaps behind him…

VA: And this is why you never turn your back on KC Rockefeller!

MM: TIME TRAVELER!!

Calvin falls to a heap after landing on the back of his head from KC’s poison ‘rana, in perfect position as Rockefeller scrambles up top. He measures, adjusts his crotch, and blows a kiss to the jeering crowd before taking flight.

MM: DIVEBOMB RENAISSANCE!!

VA: Did you see the hang time in that sky, Malone?! Either gravity works different here because of the metric system or KC Rockefeller is just that damn good! Now, count along with me!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!

Ito calls for a quick ding of the bell and gets it, raising Rockefeller’s hand. KC pulls Ito in and plants a wet one on his forehead, shoving the striped shirt away.

YOUR WINNERS, AND STILL EWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: KHARRION (9:04)

Jennifer Dowling: Your winners of the fall, and STILL the EWA WORRRRRRLD Tag Team champions…!

Aaah! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!

MM: Wait…what’s Joshua Kaine doing out here?

Joshua Kaine comes out from behind the curtain with a microphone in his hand. He waits for the cheering from the crowd to die down a little before he starts to speak, an enormous smile on his face.

Josh Kaine: Guys, guys, wait! You ain’t done yet! This is a gauntlet, right? And I mean, you barreled your way through the Lemonheads…and Public Enemy well enough, but how would you feel about ONE MORE GO? Third time’s a charm and all, right?

He pauses, glancing back to the curtain before looking back to the ring and staring down the champs with little fear.

Josh Kaine: I mean, I dunno what it really was that management left me off of the card for Live-From-freakin’-awesome-London…but I get a chance to rectify that now. After all, Jada always told me if I wanna get anywhere, I gotta seize the moment.

He begins to walk down to the ring with a purpose before stopping himself halfway. The son of Sinnocence brings the microphone to his lips again.

Josh Kaine: Well, damn. You know what I forgot to bring? A partner!

He laughs to himself.

Josh Kaine: I can’t fight ya both on my own, so… (he turns around to look back to the curtain) HEY! ANYONE WANNA HELP ME OUT HERE?

There is a moment of quiet, the crowd’s anticipation building for someone–

You are a brick tied to me that’s dragging me down
Strike a match and I’ll burn you to the ground
We are the jack-o-lanterns in July setting fire to the sky
Here, here comes this rising tide, so come on

VA: HEY! It’s Sahara’s little brother!

From the back, Mojave strides through the curtain, his arms raised up as “Phoenix” by Fallout Boy dies down when he reaches Josh’s side.

MM: Mojave hasn’t been seen in the ring since January when he was injured in Natalie Burrows’ debut match. He’s out here and looking fit!

VA: Yeah, fit for Josh’s bed.

MM: Do you really have to do that?

Josh shakes hands with Mojave as the two of them stare up at the ring.

Josh Kaine: I mean, I didn’t really forget a partner. Kinda hard to forget someone like Moe here, so I heard about this and put the offer out to him. He’s been sitting on the sidelines–

VA: When he’s not sitting on your dick?

MM: ASHE!

VA: WHAT? How could he go from SAHARA to her BROTHER?!

Josh Kaine: So what the hell, let’s do this!

The new tag team give each other a nod before sprinting to the ring, only to be immediately pounced upon by Kharrion. Dietrich drops the heir to Valhalla with a lariat on the floor as Rockefeller leaps with a vengeance at Moe, taking him down with the Space Flying Tiger Drop!

MM: Kharrion is getting an early start on taking out their newest batch of challengers!

VA: Good! Hit Sahara’s little brother again!

Referee Kazuya Ito manages to get down from the ring, getting between Kharrion and their opponents…giving them enough time to get back to their feet before he calls for the bell to officially get the third part of this gauntlet underway with Mojave and Rockefeller in the ring!

MM: And we are officially underway!

Rockefeller lunges forward, but Mojave quickly ducks under him and comes up behind him pushing him forward, Rockefeller bounces chest first off the ropes to where the youngest of the MacKay clan is waiting and Moe rolls him up complete with a bridge that receives and earnest two count from Ito.

VA: Early pin attempt, but no dice!

MM: Mojave has been out a couple of months now, he’s gotta get back into the swing of things quickly!

Rockefeller gets up slowly smiling to himself, he gives a half hearted round of applause to Mojave on his efforts. Mojave ignores him and waves for him to try again. Rockefeller comes forward again, Mojave tries to duck under him but Rockefeller catches Sahara’s brother by the hair, pulling Moe back in front of him. He laughs and says something that isn’t picked up by the camera and Mojave retaliates by spitting in his eye. Rockefeller lets go of Mojave momentarily and wipes at his eye. Mojave comes forward on offense throwing forearms that connect with Rockefeller and then Moe takes a step back and executes a drop kick that actually puts Rockefeller on the mat. He looks surprised at this as he sits back up. Mojave wastes no time in drop kicking Rockefeller in the face this time and putting him back on the mat. This drop kick does a little more than surprise KC and he brings a hand up to his mouth before charging again.

MM: Looks like I spoke too soon!

VA: He can wrestle almost as well as his sister! Almost!

MM: Ashe, please stay off of Sahara.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Josh and Dietrich are exchange blow for blow. The rookie is barely holding his own against the powerhouse of a man…but ene well-placed forearm sends Dietrich back into the ring post! He winces hard, only to feel a slap on his shoulder from his tag partner. Rockefeller has Moe against the ropes and tags in his partner, after Dietrich brings up a big boot to take Josh down as he tries to rush the larger man.

MM: The Heir to Valhalla is down for the count! Dietrich must have cracked a few ribs on Josh with that boot!

VA: I’ll never stay off Sahara! Get him, Dietrich!

Dietrich cackles, climbing up into the ring and begins to stalk Mojave. The rookie leaning against the ropes, trying to catch his breath from a previous wicked series of strikes from KC. Josh is down on the outside. Rockefeller laughs along with his partner, grabbing a steel chair from the timekeeper and tossing it in the ring.

VA: OH MY GRACE! A CHAIR! YES!

MM: Dietrich going right for Moe now, undoubtedly going for his trademark power bomb!

Dietrich picks up Mojave, setting up for the Seventh Seal and only to have his knee buckle as he hoists the rookie up! Moe ends up face-planting the mat anyway and has no time to recover before he’s hit by Rockefeller’s Cold Barrel Zero! Dietrich falls to the ground, roaring out his pain as he holds his knee.

VA: The giant is down! He took an arrow to the knee!

Rockefeller turns and claps his partner’s shoulder, concerned about him…but from out of nowhere, here comes Josh Kaine!

MM: Here comes the son of Sinnocence again!

VA: What is he doing?!

The son of Sinnocence hooks his arms around Rockefeller and lifts him up, throwing him back with a perfectly executed belly-to-back inverted mat slam only for Rockefeller’s head to hit the steel chair!

MM: Berserker Slam! That was Josh’s Berserker Slam!

He bridges, keeping his grasp on Rockefeller to hold the older man’s shoulders to the mat.

Ito drops for the count!

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

VA: GET UP, ROCKEFELLER!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!

Josh releases his hold on Rockefeller as soon as Ito’s hand hits the mat a third time and rolls away to give them some space. His chest heaving as he moves to Mojave’s side, helping his partner up.

NR: Ladies and Gentlemen, the winners and NEWWWWWWWW EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…MOJAVE AND JOSH KAINE!!!

MM: UNBELIEVABLE! THE ROOKIES HAVE DONE IT!!

VA: I’m gonna puke, Malone! This is a travesty!

Jennifer Dowling darts into the ring, going to her boys as a medical team comes out with a stretcher. Josh and Moe stay well on the other side of the ring, watching as Dietrich is helped onto a stretcher and a dazed Rockefeller follows, leaning on Jennifer for support. He pauses, however, going to the timekeeper and the table near their belts. KC leans down just long enough to pull two beers from their cooler and place them next to the belts.

A silent gesture of congratulations as they leave the ring. Kazuya Ito takes the belts from the timekeeper, handing them off to Josh and Mojave. The rookies lift them into the air as the crowd goes berserk and we cut to commercial.

YOUR WINNERS, AND NEW EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: JOSH KAINE & MOJAVE (7:12)


(We cut back to ringside as both Mike Malone and Vincent Ashe are standing at their announce desk, getting ready to introduce the next match.)

MM: Folks, we have already seen some surreal action here tonight and we are just getting started.

VA: I need hazard pay if they expect me to keep working under this conditions. I demand a lot more money for slight inconveniences, damn it! That’s the American way!

MM: Have you forgotten we’re in the UK?

VA: Have you forgotten how much of a tool you are?

MM: Anyways, our next match of the night is going to…

(Before Mike can finish his thought, the crowd behind him starts to stir. They turn their backs to the camera, almost like they’re checking out a fight that broke out a few rows back. A few yells melt away into thunderous cheers as bounding out from the middle of the crowd is AZRAEL GOEREN who leaps over the barricade right between Malone and Ashe.)

VA: AHHH! MERCY! PLEASE! I NEVER MEANT A WORD I SAID ABOUT YOU! YOUR DAUGHTER MADE ME SAY THOSE THINGS! SHE MADE ME!

MM: Azrael?! Azrael? What are you even doing here?! We’re live and…

(Ripping Ashe’s headset off, Azrael brings the mouthpiece up and grabs the camera in front of him with his right hand. He pulls the cameraman closer, looking wildly into the camera with bloodshot, deranged eyes.)

Azrael Goeren: Guten tag, fräulein Van Warren! Can you hear me? Are you hiding backstage like the little bitch you are? Come out and play, mein freund! Here…I’ll make it easier for you!

(Tossing the headset down onto the table, Azrael jumps up and over the table and rolls under the bottom rope into the ring. The fans absolutely explode with thunderous cheers when they spot him as he paces around the ring like a madman, waving towards the top of the ramp and screaming an insane combination of German and English obscenities.)

MM: Folks, it looks like Azrael Goeren has made his way here to England despite EWA officials demanding he stay back in the States! Got your headset back on, partner?

VA: Thanks for defending me back there! Some broadcast colleague you are!

MM: I’m going to tell Grace what you said about her.

VA: Those statements were made under extreme duress and in NO WAY reflect my real opinions about our wonderful God Queen! Down with Azrael! Up with Grace! Kangaroo court! Kangaroo court!

(Calling for a microphone in the ring, Nikki tosses him one from ringside which he snags in mid-air.)

Azrael Goeren: Come on out here! No more gottverdammt masks! No more games! I’m fucking tired of looking over my shoulder! I’m tired of having to have eyes in the back of my head! I’m tired of being…so…god…damn…tired…

MM: Azrael really looks horrible right now. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days!

VA: He always looks like crap, how can you tell the difference?

MM: I’m amazed he’s even here tonight! We received word after the last Battlelines that Azrael was given this show off by EWA officials in order to heal up both physically and mentally after those horrendous attacks committed by that masked stalker of his.

VA: Big surprise. Azrael didn’t listen. Here’s hoping he just dies of exhaustion in the ring tonight. Now THAT would make this show a five-star experience for me.

MM: You’re just awful.

(Back in the ring, Azrael holds his hands out to his side as if he’s inviting his masked attacker to take a free shot. After getting no response from the back, Azrael calls for a chair and one is slid into the ring by the ever attentive Nikki Rogers. Azrael props it open and kicks his feet up on the second rope, looking up at the ceiling of the O2 Arena.)

Azrael Goeren: You never were a punctual man, Herr Van Warren. I get it. Everything always has to be about YOU, doesn’t it? Is this why you’ve been sneak attacking me? Burning my possessions? Breaking into my house? You just can’t STAND that I’ve built something better than you ever did, can you? Why don’t you drag your itty bitty Brooklyn balls out here and do something about it?

(A huge barrage of cheers from the sold out crowd as Azrael folds his arms across his chest, waiting for his masked tormentor to come on down.)

MM: No fear at all from Azrael here tonight, I think he just wants all of this over with.

VA: I think that he…HEY! WHAT THE FU…?!

(The muffled yell of Vincent Ashe draws the camera over to the announcer’s table again as Ashe is shown with his head being pushed down into the top of the table. Mike Malone quickly scatters as stepping out from the crowd is the masked man himself! The man, dressed in a pair of black jeans, Timberland boots, leather gloves and a black hoodie quickly releases the back of Ashe’s head and approaches the ring with Azrael’s back turned towards him.)

MM: It’s him! That masked lunatic just came out from the crowd, just like Azrael did!

VA: WHY IS EVERYONE HITTING ME TODAY?!

MM: Azrael doesn’t see him! Azrael’s still looking up at the ramp!

(The masked man very slowly enters the ring from underneath the bottom rope as the fans go ballistic, screaming wildly at Azrael to turn around. The masked man peers out from behind his mask and takes aim at the back of Azrael’s skull…before Azrael suddenly stands up from the chair and quickly turns around to face his attacker with a smile.)

Azrael Goeren: Hello, old friend. Still just as predictable as ever, it seems.

MM: YES! Azrael just baited whoever this is into the ring! There will be no sneak attacks this time! Now let’s see what this cheap shot artist can do!

(The masked man takes a step back into the corner, looking from side to side to survey his surroundings. Azrael takes one step towards him, microphone still in hand.)

Azrael Goeren: So here we are. After everything we’ve been through I guess I only have one question left for you…X-Calibur…

(The fans let out a raucous “Whooooaaaa” at hearing that infamous name followed by a chorus of boos as the masked man remains still, keeping his focus on the Megastar.)

Azrael Goeren: Why? Why are you doing this to me now? You know me better than anyone, you’ve always been right there at my side no matter where we were. OPW. SHOOT. EWA. Where there was one of us, there was both of us. So why, Eryk? Why do you suddenly feel the need to piss on that friendship? Why are you trying to end my career? Why…

(Azrael takes another step forward.)

Azrael Goeren: …why do you have a fucking death wish? You think after what I went through with Grace I’m afraid of anyone? Especially you? What type of stupid little slight did I do to you YEARS ago that you are still pissed off at, X? COME ON! TELL ME! TELL ME!

(The masked man remains motionless, seemingly content with not giving Azrael an answer. Azrael shakes his head and moves the microphone back to his mouth…before the masked man CHARGES him from the corner and spears him down to the mat!)

MM: HERE WE GO!

VA: Break his neck, X! Finish off that German prick once and for all!

(The fans lose their minds as the two men finally get their hands on each other, each one throwing lefts and rights as they roll on the canvas. Azrael spins over into a mounted position and starts raining down fists and elbows onto the masked man’s skull, trying to yank his mask off only to have an incredibly brutal right hook crash into his rib cage.)

MM: Oh my god, that was a sickening shot! Azrael has a long history of injuries to his ribs and chest…I don’t think he can breathe after that punch!

(Azrael rolls off to the side and tries to steady himself on the ring ropes, only to have the masked man scramble to his feet and deliver a knee strike right to the same spot! Azrael crumples to the mat and starts dry heaving, reaching for the ropes again so he can get back to his feet and keep fighting.)

MM: The sounds coming out of Azrael’s lungs right now folks…they’re…they’re hard to describe. We NEED to get him some help!

VA: Hell no! This is just getting good…

(The masked man takes a step back and shakes his head as Azrael heaves on the mat, trying desperately to get back on his feet. The masked man turns and spots the chair that Azrael brought into the ring earlier, pointing at it as the fans boo loudly. The man picks up the chair, takes aim and DRIVES the rim of it directly into Goeren’s ribs as the German collapses to the mat in a heap, curling up and trying to protect his ribs as his heaving gets louder and more grotesque. Without missing a beat, the masked man drives the chair OVER AND OVER again into Azrael’s chest with extreme malice before tossing it out of the ring.)

MM: This is disgusting! Goeren is completely at the mercy of this man this…masked man who has yet to reveal himself!

VA: Let’s not even pretend anymore, Malone! This is X-Calibur! You know it, I know it, Goeren knows it, the fans know it, why are we even playing the guessing game?!

(The masked man kneels down next to a barely moving Azrael, tilting his head from side to side. He casually picks up the microphone Azrael was using earlier and rises to his feet. He lists his arms in the air, crossing them above his head to convey the universal sign for an injury. An X. The camera shifts back down to Goeren as he squirms on the mat, trying to breathe. The masked man slowly lifts the microphone to where his mouth is.)

Masked Man: Ahh…you’re trying so hard to get up…

(His voice is a whisper, almost growling and seething with anger.)

Masked Man: You know you’re in for a fight, don’t you?

(He drops to his knees, straddling Goeren.)

Masked Man: But you have no…clue. You see, I told you, man. I told you way back when we last saw each other face to face.

(The masked man slowly removes his hood and mask, and a cascade of dreadlocks falls out, shadowing his face. The camera tries to get in through the hair as the man begins to tremble with fury.)

MM: Wait! Wait! That’s not X-Calibur at all!

VA: I told you! I told all of you!

(The man lifts his head up and the dreadlocks fall away…revealing once and for all the man who has tormented Azrael Goeren for weeks now. He looks back down at Goeren, bringing the microphone to his lips….)

 

 

 

 

 

 

DONOVAN KING: I’ve come to collect on what you owe.

MM: DONOVAN KING! DONOVAN KING IS HERE! DONOVAN KING IS HERE!

(The fans LOSE it as the fans in London realize who is straddling Goeren. That Donovan King…has arrived.)

Donovan King: I figure I’ve only got a few more moments before you black out, so I want you to watch this tape back a few times and know.

(King leans down, his longer hair falling around his face. The camera focuses in on his all black eyes and his scarred face, a beard grown to attempt to hide some of the wounds.)

Donovan King: I want you to understand that I am the epitome of every ghost that haunts you, Azrael. I want you to understand that I am the cemetery of bones that comprise the skeletons in your closet. And Azrael? Henrik?

(King pinches Goeren’s cheeks, glaring down and growling through gritted teeth.)

Donovan King: I want you to understand that we’re just…getting…started.

(King SLAMS Goeren’s head back down into the mat and stands up, lording over the fallen Azrael. King stands tall, glaring out at the masses who are shocked to see the arrival of who is possibly the last man they’d expect to see in an EWA ring, excited to see Donovan King after literal YEARS, and angry at what this man has done to Azrael Goeren.)

MM: Donovan King warned Azrael way back when he showed up at Champions Summit II to quote unquote “support” Goeren that he had a receipt coming, but I never could have guessed he was gearing up to attack Azrael Goeren like this!

VA: Donovan King is a mastermind, Malone! The man is a force of nature more than he’s a human being!

MM: You might be right. We’ve seen monsters, we’ve seen warriors, but we’ve never seen a Soldier like Donovan King.

(King closes his all black eyes, inhaling the air deeply as he stands there for the briefest of moments. He then falls to his knees next to Goeren’s head and he…strokes Goeren’s hair. He pats the German’s head as if he were consoling a wounded pet. He falls to his back and rolls to the outside of the ring, backing up next to Malone and Ashe.)

MM: Is King just going back into the audience?

(King slowly jumps over the guardrail and into the audience. They slap at him, claw at him, security trying to get to him. The fans swamp King, trying to get a chance to touch him. King holds his arms out, laughing as his fully black eyes glare down at the ring, EMTs and referees trying to check on Goeren.)

MM: EMTs are trying to check on Azrael Goeren right now, trying to get him not to move, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be much of a problem.

VA: Why are we watching this?! Donovan King just appeared and now he’s somewhere behind US?!

(The cameras go back to the audience where King was and…nothing. Just concerned fans watching EMTs caring for Goeren, strapping him to a gurney.)

VA: Oh…damn.

MM: Fans, we’ll try to get an update on Azrael Goeren as soon as we can. In the meantime, can we…can we go to the back?



MM: Folks, we’re back…and….I can’t believe what we just witnessed. Donovan King, legendary former SHOOT Project Heavyweight Champion, has revealed himself here at Live From London as the man who’s been stalking Azrael Goeren for the last few months. I…

VA: And I told you, Malone! I told you all along that it wasn’t X-Calibur! That moron couldn’t plan something like this! He couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag! But Donovan King…oh my Grace, Malone…Donovan King is here!

MM: Actually, I’m being told right now that security is canvassing the arena right now for Donovan King, and I’ve been informed to advise the EWA audience that Donovan King is not under official contract to the EWA at this time.

VA: So he’s been doing all of this and he doesn’t even have a contract? That’s even more brilliant, Malone! I love it!

MM: Nonetheless, paramedics have transported Goeren backstage, and as we speak, he’s being loaded into an ambulance and will be taken to a local medical facility. I’m told that his girlfriend, the legendary Jada Kaine, is accompanying him…and what a sinister attack that was. And why, Vince? We still don’t know why.

VA: We don’t know why? Are you braindead? Azrael Goeren is the scum of the planet. No, scratch that. The scum of the planet is much, much higher on the evolutionary totem pole than that piece of garbage, and I for one am grateful for Donovan King and what he’s done here tonight!

MM: (sighs) In any event, the show must go on…and this next match, ladies and gentlemen, is going to be ugly.


MICHAEL DRAVEN VS MAGGIE MCINTYRE

NO DISQUALIFICATION MATCH

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is no-disqualification match! Introducing first, the third member of 3K from Charlotte, North Carolina…weighing in at 246 pounds, MICHAEL DRAAAAVEN!

VA: This has been a long time coming, Malone. I can’t wait to see Michael Draven give Maggie McIntyre another beating, and put her out for good!

MM: I think it’s a damn shame that we’ve gotten to this point, ladies and gentlemen. One of the true stories of happiness to come out of the world of this sport has disintegrated into this…this display of violence and barbaric physicality that we’re about to witness tonight.

VA: I know! It’s great!

The lights drop down to a red hue for a moment as the opening drumline of ‘Hail to the King’ by Avenged Sevenfold starts up. The lights flash in time with the drumbeat, and once the opening guitars come into play, the red hue transitions to a strobe lighting effect as Michael Draven steps out onto the stage. The look on his face is one almost of determined resignation, as he gazes out upon the London crowd booing him vociferously. Draven is clad in the usual black leather pants and black “3K” tank top, with a familiar sight in his hands – the belt that he savagely beat his former lover with back at Battlelines 25. Alyssa Marie Haven walks out by his side, a sneer on her face as she regards her once-lover with pride, squeezing his arm and stepping up on her heels to whisper something into his ear. Draven nods without looking at her, and the duo stalk toward the ring, paying no attention to the jeering fans. He pauses on the ring apron, staring out at the crowd and shaking his head slowly, before nodding to Alyssa as she leaves the ringside area. The 3K member then steps through the middle ropes, retreating to the far corner, all eyes focused on the entrance ramp as ‘Hail to the King’ fades out.

 

I got two letters from you
Last words of the runaway
Your love was written so true
And now I can’t speak your name

 

The heavy opening drum beats of AFI’s “I Hope You Suffer” reverberate throughout the arena and the lights flicker in time to the beat as the Banshee of HATE, Maggie McIntyre, appears at the top of the rampway with that signature black baseball bat in hand. Dressed in a tight black top, buckled corset and fishnets tucked into knee high boots, she begins to stride down the ramp, her long black hair braided with raven’s feathers bouncing as she moves.

 

I faced destruction and you
Just killed me and walked away
I gave my heart to the cruel
Now, it will not beat again

 

NR: And his opponent, the Banshee of HATE…from Albany, New York, weighing in at 155 pounds, MAGGIE MCINTYRE!

MM: And ladies and gentlemen, you can see the look in her eyes tonight. That look of determination from the former Combat Champion. You have to think that she remembers every lash of the belt from Michael Draven’s horrific attack on her at Battlelines 26.

VA: Whoa whoa whoa, Malone, hold the phone. Let’s not get this twisted. Maggie fired the first shot by ending their relationship and leaving him for Indrid Calder – and she didn’t even have the decency to send him a text! She shoved him off a ladder instead!

MM: It is my professional opinion that both of these individuals have made grave mistakes. Neither is perfect, and again…it’s just sad that it’s come to this.

She climbs into the ring, stepping through the ropes and raising the bat in the air to the roar of the crowd before shedding the leather jacket to the outside. Her music slowly begins to die down as she glares over at her former lover…her opponent, bound and determined to make him pay for his role in costing her the Combat Championship, as well as the heartache he’s caused her over the last few months.

VA: This is going to be great…no disqualifications means he doesn’t have to hold back! She’ll finally her what she deserves, Malone!

MM: You recall her last no-DQ match? She managed to beat Alexander Haven himself, and that’s certainly no small task.

VA: That was a fluke. The sun was in his eyes.

MM: Whatever you say, Sahara.

Draven stares across the ring at his former lover, who’s returning his stare, flexing her grip on the handle of her baseball bat. Draven slowly bends down to drop the belt in the corner of the ring, never taking his eye off of Maggie…and then briefly looks at the bat in her hands, before making eye contact once again.

VA: You idiot, what are you doing?

MM: I think he’s offering a chance to start this off without any foreign objects.

Referee Juan Cardillo calls for the bell and Maggie clearly has no intention of complying with Draven’s request, as she is out of the gates like a champion thoroughbred on race day with that bat. Filled with rage and adrenaline, she rears back, going for a nasty overhead swing to bring that bat right down on Draven’s shoulder…but he catches it one-handed! The younger of the Draven brothers snarls at his former lover, outright yanking the bat from her hands and nails her in the stomach with a big boot!

MM: Maggie trying to start off strong, but Draven’s got almost a hundred pounds on her!

VA: An ounce of that is his junk.

MM: Can you please concentrate on the match?!

VA: Remember the ruler, Malone. Never forget.

Maggie doubles over in pain as Draven tosses the bat away, grabbing for her hair and pulling her in and twisting her around to fall in a reverse DDT!

MM: Michael Draven starting this match off strong hitting a Descent on Maggie! And now he goes for the cover…he’s trying to end this one early!

VA: No! Punish her, Michael!

Draven hooks the leg, and Cardillo slides into position…

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

And Maggie kicks out!

MM: It’s going to take more than that to pin Maggie McIntyre, folks.

VA: You’re right, Malone. From what I’ve heard, it takes about $5 at McDonald’s and a bottle of Boone’s Farm.

MM: You’re sickening.

Draven pulls Maggie to her feet by her arm, shoving her back into her corner before stepping back out to the center of the ring. The Banshee holds the back of her head, scowling out at her former lover – Draven audibly yells at her to stay down next time, and Maggie responds by flipping him the middle finger! The London crowd roars in approval, and Maggie again sprints toward the 3K member. Draven swings his arm in a mighty clothesline, but Maggie ducks, racing toward the ropes, and springs off, leaping into the air and connecting squarely across the jaw of Michael Draven with a devastating punch!

MM: Ride of the Valkyrie! Maggie just took a page out of the book of EWA legend Sinnocence!

VA: Sahara.

MM: What?

VA: You meant Sahara. That’s her move, after all.

MM: No. No, I didn’t.

The force of the blow sends Draven staggering backward, and he falls between the ropes, spilling to the outside of the ring. Maggie screeches in a mixture of fury and triumph, and pauses for a moment, watching Draven struggle to his feet on the outside. She suddenly races toward the ropes opposite Draven once more, bouncing off of them and leaping into the air over the top rope, connecting with a shoulder block on the way down that sends Draven flying backwards into the guardrail on the outside!

MM: Incredible maneuver by Maggie McIntyre! And this is what she has to do to win tonight against her former fiancee, folks. She has to be quick, unorthodox, and use the environment around her to topple this man who vastly outweighs her.

VA: None of that weight is in his —

MM: Enough!

Maggie gets to her feet, grabbing Michael and literally dragging him by his hair to a standing position. Maggie drapes his arm over her shoulder and uses her upper body to drive his back squarely into the ring apron. Draven’s hand immediately goes to the small of his back as he drops to his knees, yelling out in pain. Maggie licks her lips…and actually smiles!

VA: That’s disgusting, Malone! She’s getting off on this!

MM: I think she’s taking some satisfaction in inflicting pain onto Michael Draven, much as he did to her at Battlelines 26, and with those chair shots at Champions Summit II!

Maggie leans down, pulling Draven’s head back by his hair…and delivers a MASSIVE slap to the face, the sound of which echoes all throughout the O2 Arena! The crowd explodes as Draven’s head is rocked backward, and Maggie lets out another primal roar, this time directly into Draven’s face!

MM: This match has been all Maggie McIntyre so far!

Maggie pulls Draven’s hair up once again, rearing back for another shocking blow…but something suddenly catches her eye, and she releases her grip on Draven, slowly walking toward the corner of the ring. Our camera follows as she reaches the corner, and snakes an arm underneath the bottom rope – the crowd immediately begins to buzz as they realize what she’s reaching for!

VA: Get out of there, Michael! RUN! Maggie McIntyre has the upper hand now!

A twisted, perverse grin crosses over the Banshee’s face as she regards the belt now in her hands – the belt that Michael Draven used on her that escalated this entire situation. Maggie runs her fingers across it, almost in a trance…and then, grabbing it with her other hand, snaps the belt into a loop, her face shifting to a look of determin–

MM: LOOK OUT!

Before Maggie even realizes it, her body is sent jolting forward from the shove delivered to her back by Michael Draven! Her head bounces off the ringpost as she crumbles to the mat.

VA: Hahaha! Never turn your back on Michael Draven! I think that slap woke him up, Malone! You’re in trouble now, Margaret!

Maggie pulls herself up with her forearms, and the crowd “oooohs” as they see the blood dripping from her forehead, a clear indication that she’s been busted open by the impact from the post. Draven, meanwhile, has grabbed the chair of ring announcer Nikki Rogers, and now has a look of fury on his face. He crouches down next to Maggie, speaking loudly.enough for the camera to pick up the dialogue.

Michael Draven: Is this what you want, Maggie? You want to fight me?

Draven stands back up, rearing the chair high over his head. He swings it downward, and the chair makes a sickening crash as it connects with the back of the Banshee! She drops to the ground, and Draven flings the chair aside, screaming down at Maggie.

Michael Draven: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!?!

Maggie McIntyre: Fuck you!

The Banshee of HATE struggles to get back to her feet and is knocked back to the ground from a big boot to her ribs from Draven. She cries out in pain as he moves, flipping up the apron and pulling a long table from under the ring.

MM: He’s got a table!

VA: PUT HER THROUGH IT!

It takes only a few moments for Michael to set up the table on the outside near the ropes before he returns to the struggling Banshee, grabbing her by the hair before she throws a solid haymaker to his midsection! Draven drops his grip on Maggie and she throws another, sending him back into the railing. He crashes into the rail but gets no time to recover before Maggie is on him. She screams as she throws lefts and rights.

MM: The Banshee has been unleashed here in London!

VA: She’s gone crazy, Malone! Someone needs to have her committed!

MM: Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Maggie McIntyre!

Draven throws his forearms up, frantically trying to block the barrage of blows that Maggie sends flying his way, before finally sinking down to the cement below. Maggie turns on a dime, walking with a purpose toward the corner of the outside area before grabbing another steel chair, and slamming it closed. She slams the chair hard against the padding on the outside of the ring, before winding up and SLAMMING it right into the forehead of Michael Draven!

MM: Michael Draven’s cranium just got cracked!

Maggie drops the chair, breathing heavily and staring down at her former lover, who now has blood streaming from a cut opened up on his forehead, matching McIntyre’s own wound. She stares down, watching the blood pool onto the mat underneath him, a lack of emotion on her face.

MM: And you have to wonder right now what’s going through the mind of Maggie McIntyre, as she stares down at Michael Draven.

VA: Malone, after that chair shot we just saw, I think we all know exactly what she’s thinking.

Maggie finally lets out a sigh, grabbing Draven by the hair and pulling him to his feet before rolling him into the ring. Maggie climbs to the top rope, staring out at the capacity crowd inside the O2 Arena, who rise to their feet as she looks down at Draven once again, measuring him up…

MM: She’s going for the Outlaw Star! Maggie McIntyre’s looking to put Michael Draven away!

Maggie leaps from the top rope into her patented Shooting Star Press…but Draven rolls out of the way at the last moment, and Maggie crashes onto the mat!

MM: Well scouted there by Michael Draven!

VA: It should be, Malone, the man knows everything about her!

Draven pulls himself to his feet, taking a moment to wipe blood from his brow, and walks over to Maggie, shaking his head. He pulls the Banshee to her feet, thrusting her head between his legs.

VA: That’s Sahara’s domain now, McIntyre!

MM: Oh for god’s sake, Vince!

Draven wraps his arms around Maggie’s waist…lifting her up into the air and driving her down with a powerbomb, but then keeping his grip on her legs, he steps one leg between hers…

VA: He’s going for the Sharpshooter! It’s all over for Maggie now!

Draven locks the Banshee’s legs together, and turns her over into the Sharpshooter! Maggie lets out a painful wail, clawing at the mat as she tries to fight through the agony. Draven, meanwhile, is yelling at her while applying the hold!

Michael Draven: TAP OUT, MAGGIE! TAP OUT!!

But Maggie refuses, screaming through the pain as she fights desperately to reach the ropes. Her fingertips are just inches away from the rope break…but Draven sees it, and drags her back to the center of the ring, cinching back on the hold harder than ever! Maggie lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and begins trying to reach for the ropes again, but they’re much further away this time, and her movements grow weaker and weaker. Finally, her arm drops to the mat, and she lies in the hold, motionless. But before referee Juan Cardillo can check to see if she’s unconscious and potentially stop the match, Michael Draven finally releases the hold. He stands, the bleeding on his forehead finally slowed, looking down at the seemingly unconscious Maggie McIntyre, a small pool of blood on the mat from her busted open forehead.

MM: I’ve gotten the feeling that Michael Draven’s mindset over the past few weeks since the belt incident has changed in regards to this match, and judging from the look on his face, I’d say that’s a correct observation.

VA: Why did he let the hold go, Malone? He had the match won!

MM: I think maybe Michael simply doesn’t want her to suffer.

Draven takes a long breath, before reaching down and rolling Maggie on her back. He starts to make the cover….AND MAGGIE MCINTYRE WITH THE INSIDE CRADLE!!!

VA: She was playing possum, Malone!!

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

DRAVEN KICKS OUT AT TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!

MM: Unbelievable!

And now both spring to their feet, as Maggie rushes at Draven. Draven ducks, and Maggie sprints off the ropes, but Draven catches her with a huge spinning spinebuster! And now Draven looks incensed! He springs back to his feet, and….

MM: Oh god. Oh no. Not this.

VA: YES! DO IT, MICHAEL!!

The crowd begins to boo as Draven snatches the infamous belt up from the canvas in the corner of the ring, snapping it into a single loop. He SMACKS the belt against the canvas, storming back over to Maggie, screaming down at her.

Michael Draven: You should’ve stayed down, Maggie! WHY COULDN’T YOU STAY DOWN?!

Draven eyes the exposed back of Maggie where her corset has lifted up – giving the viewer a glimpse of an almost healed scar from Battlelines 25. Draven lifts the belt high in the air….

 

 

 

…and pauses, looking down at her.

VA: What the hell? Do it, Michael! What are you doing?!

MM: I think maybe Michael Draven may have found his heart after all!

Draven slams the belt down on the ground in anger, lifting Maggie up….AND THE BANSHEE WITH AN UPPERCUT BETWEEN DRAVEN’S LEGS!! Draven drops to his knees in pain, and Maggie snarls as she sees the dropped belt…and picks it up herself!

VA: Oh no! Run, Michael! Get out of there!

MM: They say turnabout is fair play, but —

Malone’s words are interrupted by the sickening CRACK of the belt whipping across the back of Michael Draven! Draven springs to his feet, screaming out in pain and desperately trying to escape the Banshee’s wrath! But Maggie is cold and calculated, swinging the belt with surgical precision as another snap catches him across the upper thigh. A third lash across the chest sends him sprawling backwards, and he frantically rolls out of the ring, climbing back up to the ring apron and putting a hand out to Maggie, asking her to stop.

MM: I don’t think she’s going to listen, Michael!

Maggie swings the belt once more….but this time Draven, incredibly, catches it with his hand! Maggie’s eyes go wide as he jerks the belt backward, pulling her toward him….

 

 

 

…and pulls her in for a kiss!

VA: What the…what the hell?!

MM: Ladies and gentlemen…she’s not resisting!

For a moment, time stands still, and things are as they once were with the happy couple, who found each other in the midst of tragedy. The two lock lips in a long, deep kiss before Maggie slowly breaks it, taking one step backward. The two maintain eye contact, tears swimming now in the eyes of the Banshee, emotions clearly swirling all over her face as she contemplates what just happened….

 

 

 

….and with a frustrated cry she shoves her arms forward, sending Michael Draven flying off the ring apron and through the table he set up earlier!!!!

 

“HOLY SHIT!!
HOLY SHIT!!
HOLY SHIT!!
HOLY SHIT!!”

 

MM: The Banshee of HATE has just decimated one of the Three Kings!

Maggie looks down at Michael Draven, arms folded across the ropes, with absolutely no expression on her face. He continues to stare as Draven struggles, trying to get to his feet amidst the rubble of the shattered table. After a few moments, her face wearing the same expression, she exits the ring, hopping out to the ringside area. Maggie grabs her former lover, lifting him to his feet and rolling him inside before pausing to look down at the shattered table, perhaps a reminder of her actions at Live From Tokyo, back when this issue first began. A moment later, she climbs back onto the apron, entering the ring as Draven pulls himself to his feet. She moves toward him…

 

 

AND DRAVEN KICKS HER IN THE STOMACH! Michael Draven hooks the arms…

VA: DOWNFALL! DOWNFALL! DOWNFALL!! PUT A FORK IN HER, MALONE!

MM: I’m not so sure!

Indeed, Michael Draven hits the Downfall on Maggie, but he’s laid out on the mat next to her in apparent exhaustion! Neither competitor is moving, as Juan Cardillo rushes from one warrior to the other, checking their status, and after a moment, he begins to administer a standing ten count!

 

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

FOUR!!

 

 

 

 

FIVE!!

 

 

 

 

Both Maggie and Draven begin to stir…

 

 

 

 

SIX!!

 

 

 

 

Maggie pulls herself up to her knees – Draven follows after, as the two face each other, and Maggie fires off a hard right to the jaw of Draven! Cardillo stops the count, as the two are competing once more, and Maggie begins to scream at Draven.

Maggie McIntyre: I loved you, you asshole!

MM: Oh my. The emotion in this match, ladies and gentlemen…

Draven’s body rocks back from the impact of Maggie’s punch, as he clears the cobwebs, and lurches forward on his knees, firing a punch of his own that clips the side of Maggie’s head! Maggie’s head snaps back, as Draven screams something back that our cameras don’t quite make out. Maggie leans forward once more, firing another shot at Draven, this time catching him right under the eye and opening another cut up. The Banshee screams at Draven once again.

Maggie McIntyre: I deserved so much better than you!!

Draven slumps forward with the impact, as Maggie finishes screaming in his ear. Maggie starts to move forward, as if to make her first pinfall attempt of the evening, but Draven fires an uppercut, connecting with the lower half of Maggie’s jaw and sending her flying on her back! Draven bellows at her once more.

Michael Draven: I TRIED, MAGGIE!

Maggie pulls herself back up to her knees once more, rubbing her jaw before firing another shot at Draven – but this time, he catches her by the wrist.

VA: Now she’s really gonna get it!

The two maintain eye contact once more, as Draven continues to hold Maggie’s wrist. The camera switches back and forth between them both, and both clearly are struggling to keep themselves from breaking down, their eyes swimming with tears. All at once, both Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre lurch forward….

 

 

 

 

…and embrace each other in a tight hug.

VA: Oh what the hell is this garbage?!

Maggie is rapidly speaking into Draven’s ear, but those words are clearly not meant for us to hear as our camera isn’t powerful enough to pick them up. Draven, meanwhile, is nodding quickly to what she’s saying while holding her tight. After a moment, they break the embrace, and Draven cups her face with his hands, kissing her bloody forehead before helping her to her feet.

VA: Malone, what is this? They’re supposed to be fighting! Kick her ass, Michael! Show her why you’re one of the Three Kings!

But instead, Draven sits on the middle rope, holding the ropes open so that Maggie, wincing and holding her back, can step through the ropes. Draven follows, and hops down gingerly next to her on the outside of the ring. The two exchange a glance, and simultaneously, they turn to walk up the entrance ramp, together.

MM: Ladies and gentlemen…I think we’re witnessing two souls who have literally fought all they could bear to fight. They’ve left all it in the ring tonight…and I think they’re leaving with their humanity, and that’s a beautiful thing to see.

VA: I’m going to throw up.

MM: Shut up, Vince.

The two warriors walk up the ramp, never looking back – and interlocking hands right as they step through the curtain.

THIS MATCH HAS BEEN DECLARED A DRAW (16:44)



MM: Folks, I can’t believe what we’ve just witnessed. After a violent, bloody battle between former lovers…Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre walked out together from their own match against each other, after an emotional embrace in the ring.

VA: I’m sickened by this, Malone. Whatever happened to kicking someone’s ass who pissed you off? These pansies can’t even finish a fight! Give me a damn break.

MM: That’s just appalling, Vince. I think it’s poetic, and almost beautiful.

VA: You know what’s going to be beautiful, Malone? Beautiful is going to be —

MM: Hold on, Vince. Yes? Yes, I’m told Allison Haines is backstage now with Maggie McIntyre and Michael Draven. Allison?

(As we cut backstage, we see a shaky camera view of Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre walking together, hand in hand, inside a parking garage. The cameraman is clearly struggling to keep up, and somewhere off camera, we can hear the rapidly speaking voice of Allison Haines.)

Allison Haines: Michael Draven, what are your comments on what happened out there tonight? Why did you stop fighting Maggie McIntyre?

(Allison’s inquiry is met with silence, as the duo continue walking.)

Allison Haines: Maggie, does this mean you’ve accepted some sort of truce with Michael Draven?

(Again, no response – the two make their way over to one of the various taxis standing by in the parking lot, completely ignoring the fact that Allison’s even speaking to them.)

Allison Haines: Where are you guys going?

(Still in their ring gear, sweaty and bloody, the two climb into the vehicle. Michael Draven starts the vehicle up, as Allison offers one final plea.)

Allison Haines: Come on, guys? Can’t you give me something?

(Apparently not – the engine roars to life as the taxi pulls away, driving out of the parking garage. The camera trails the car, watching as the red lights grow more distant until finally it disappears out of sight, before focusing back on Allison Haines.)

Allison Haines: Dammit!

(Allison storms off, and the camera starts to follow – but it jerks back suddenly, as if the cameraman has suddenly noticed something. And indeed he has, as he begins to zoom in on a row of cars across the parking lot. The shadows cast by the parking lots play tricks on the human eye, and for a moment we believe that perhaps it has done so with this cameraman, as well…until finally, we see a shadow step out, revealing itself to the world.

The shadow of a Stranger.

Indrid Calder glares in the direction of the parking garage’s exit.

Fade to ringside.)

MM: Folks, we’re baffled at what we’ve just seen tonight. Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre have left the arena together…

VA: And Calder saw them!

MM: Hold on…I’m told something else is happening backstage…go! Go now!

(Rushing into view of the backstage area where Michael and Maggie exited the arena minutes prior, Sahara runs up to the door and shoves it open, scanning the parking lot. She yells out, “Michael” into the darkness to no response. With no sign of them in sight and a match yet to happen, the Fallout member slowly backs into the arena and lets the door close in front of her.

The latch of the door clicking shut rings of a sad finality.

Allison Haines, still on the scene searching for answers with her camera crew, rushes forward to get the scoop.)

Allison Haines: Sahara!

(Approaching the usually talkative blonde, Allison searches for answers.)

Allison Haines: Sahara, nobody’s closer to Michael Draven than you, do you know what’s going on with–

(The usually bubbly reporter falls silent the second she notices her fellow blonde wiping her eyes. With a distraught look plastered across her face, Sahara turns toward Allison and seems to look through both her and the camera, shaking her head in disbelief. Sensing the emotion of the situation, Allison turns toward the camera and makes a quick slashing motion…)

Allison Haines: Cut it–just…cut the damn fe–

(After a momentary burst of static, we return to ringside.)

MM: Fans, it would seem we’ve lost feed to the back at the request of Allison Haines. What we know is Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre exited the building together in the midst of what appeared to be a reconciliation and anyone that follows the EWA knows of Sahara’s relationship–

VA: Yeah, yeah, everyone knows that what we just witnessed, Malone.The beautiful right hand of Grace just got sold down the river for that wretched Maggie McIntyre. And don’t act like you care about her or her state of mind…you and all these fans all just booed at the mere sight of her on camera without a care in the world for her feelings.

MM: Far be it for me to dispute my fellow announcer, but while I may not agree with the person Sahara is, it would appear her feelings for Michael Draven were genuine and went deeper than previously thought.

VA: Good. I hope Sahara takes it out on Natalie Burrows later tonight.


TYLER MORRIS VS LUNATIKK CRIPPLER

FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE

NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall…..

Crowd: ONE FALL!!

NR: And is a FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE MATCH!

It seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…

THEY WANNA SEE BLOOD
THEY WANNA SEE HATE

“America” by Deuce continues on, as the crowd is actually cheering for Lunatikk Crippler here! And he isn’t alone!

Shelly Aureo, his girlfriend, escorts him, arm in arm, to the ring!

NR: Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and thirty eight pounds….Lunatikk Crippler!

MM: These two, Crippler and Morris, have seemingly already settled their differences before this bell even rings!

VA: God I hope not! I’ve been looking forward to a good old fashioned brawl all week!

Crippler steps into the ring, actually smiling, as he awaits his opponent.

VA: I guess this girl is doing wonders for the mood and attitude of Lunatikk Crippler.

MM: Not only that, but I even hear that earlier tonight, he met with Ray Willmott without even coming to blows! I’m told they even shook hands!

VA: I still say she looks familiar. I swear I’ve seen her before.

The music shuts off, and is replaced by “This Means War”. The fans are electric as Tyler Morris and Misty Giovanni make their appearance for this match.

NR: And his opponent, accompanied to the ring by Misty Giovanni, he is the One Man Army…..Tyler Morris!

MM: Tyler Morris has really come into his own since the dissolution of The Youth. Tonight is a huge opportunity for him to prove that.

VA: Or tonight, he can prove Alexander Haven right, and show that he isn’t as good as this ice cold can of Fresca.

MM: They still make that?

VA: *slurrrrrp* I dunno.

Morris enters the ring now, opposite Lunatikk Crippler.

Crippler and Morris stare each other down in the center of the ring. Crippler is actually grinning. Referee is giving out the instructions for the Falls Count Anywhere match.

MM: There’s been a lot of bad blood between these two, going all the way back to the great war between The Youth and HATE.

VA: Blah, blah, BLAH. I’m sick and tired of hearing about their bad blood. Of COURSE they have bad blood. Common blood. Un-kingly.

MM: You’re an idiot.

VA: Starting the name calling a little early in this match, aren’t we?

The ref finishes up, and Crippler reaches out for the shake.

VA: Seriously?

Morris just stares ahead, not shaking. Crippler shrugs, and makes a fist. Morris blinks…and then bumps Crippler’s fist with his own.

MM: A little show of respect is odd given the circumstances. Maybe the ladies have gotten these men to cool their jets.

VA: Or they just wanted to punch each other’s fists. Honestly, not everything is about respect, Malone.

The bell rings, and this match is underway!

Crippled and Morris bump fists once more and start to circle one another.

They lunge, and lock up mid ring. Crippler quickly goes behind with a hammerlock.

MM: Crippler taking control early out of the collar and elbow tie up.

VA: A hold. They start this thing with a hold.

Crippler wrenches on the arm of Tyler Morris. Morris tries to wriggle free, but Crippler keeps the leverage going his way.

Morris begins to walk in a circle, Crippler keeping pace with him. Tyler then drops down to his knees, his momentum carrying Crippler over his head, and into the turnbuckle!

MM: That’s an interesting way to break the hold!

Crippler tries to shake it off, but Morris grabs around the waist, pulling The Masochist to his feet. Crippler instinctively executes a go behind, reversing positions on the One Man Army. Morris moves to reverse, but Crippler takes him down to the canvas. Morris quickly transitions on the ground, focusing on clenching on a side headlock.

Crippler gets out of it, applying a top hammerlock!

MM: The crowd is loving this back and forth action!

VA: I’m not! Someone take out a wrench from under the ring and do some emergency rhinoplasty!

Morris gets around on the hold, but Crippler transitions as well to a headlock. Morris gets to his feet, still in the hold, and shoves Crippler into the ropes. The hold is released, as Crippler bounces off the ropes, rebounding to Morris.

TyMo drops Crippler with a drop toe hold! The Masochist hits the mat, face first, and Morris quickly hooks his head over for a version of the small package!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler busts out of it, and lightning fast, hooks Morris up with a Magistral cradle!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Morris rolls through, and covers with a lateral press!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler breaks free and gets to his feet! He turns and eats a HUGE standing dropkick from Tyler Morris that drops him like a sack of rocks!

VA: That almost got me going, but this match is still too clean for my liking!

MM: A tremendous start so far, and now the One Man Army looks to really take control!

Crippler tries to sit up, but Morris runs right at him, driving his knee into the face of The Masochist! Morris covers!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler rolls his shoulder up!

VA: He’s gotta hook that leg if he wants to win this boring match!

MM: I don’t think it’s boring.

VA: THERE’S NO BLOOD!

MM: Still not boring.

VA: THIS IS FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE!

MM: Still-

VA: I’d rather watch flies fuck.

MM: God, just BE QUIET!

Morris picks Crippler up and whips him into the turnbuckles. Crippler crashes sternum first, and bounces back, and Morris clips him in the head with a spinning heel kick! Crippler’s face hits off the bottom rope, and Morris pulls him toward the center of the ring for another pinfall attempt!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler kicks out! Morris throws Crippler back on the canvas, and covers again!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Another escape from Crippler!

MM: Morris is going for frequent covers here! Crippler is using a lot of energy to kick out!

VA: He’s got all this energy, he can take this match out of the ring, where it belongs!

Crippler is clutching his head as Tyler gets back to his feet. He picks Crippler up and gets surprised by a quick European style uppercut! Morris is rocked back, and Crippler shakes some of the cobwebs out.

Morris quickly recovers and buries his knee into the gut of Crippler, doubling him over. Morris runs past him, bouncing off the opposite ropes.

And Crippler quickly turns and snaps Morris down with a HUGE spinebuster!

MM: And how quickly the tide has turned!

VA: And they are STILL IN THE RING! What an exciting FALLS COUN-

MM: We know! Shut up!

Crippler recovers first and grabs Tyler by the hair to pull him to his feet. He whips Tyler into the ropes and drops his head for a back body drop. Tyler stops short and goes to kick Crippler, but Crippler shoots up real fast and snags the foot of Morris! Tyler bounces on one foot for a second and Crippler takes him down with a Dragon Screw leg whip! Morris clutches frantically at his knee, and Misty and Shelly look on with concerned looks on their faces at ringside.

MM: Vince, Morris looks like he’s hurt.

VA: Probably wouldn’t have happened if they had gotten out of the ring at least once.

Crippler is up, and smells blood. He grabs the injured leg of Morris and begins to kick at the knee, softening it up even further. Morris is writhing in pain, trying to free himself from Crippler’s grip.

Crippler wraps Tyler’s leg around his own and drives it into the canvas, Morris’ knee taking the brunt of the attack. Morris tries to escape, but Crippler quickly locks on an inverted version of the figure four!

MM: Crippler’s got his target now, and he’s locked in on that knee!

Morris is trying to escape, agony etched into his face, teeth gritted. He rolls to try and reverse the pressure, but Crippler keeps right on with it, using the momentum to roll once more, back into the starting position!

VA: Man, he’s got that leg locked like a constrictor! He’s not letting go!

Morris is able to roll one more time, and Crippler tries to keep from feeling this pain, and both men actually roll OUT OF THE RING!

MM: Well, that’s one way to break it!

VA: *mimicking* Well, that’s one way to break it. *normal voice* Things are about to pick up! Anything can happen out here!

Crippler is first to his feet, while Morris needs to use the ring stairs to get to his. Crippler charges, but Morris, out of instinct, nails a nice low drop kick to Crippler’s knee, and The Masochist goes right into the ring stairs!

VA: Yes! NOW we’re getting somewhere!

Morris scoots away, as Shelly comes over to check on Crippler. Misty Giovanni looks uneasy as Morris gets to his feet.

MM: Things might be escalating from their agreement now! Look! Crippler’s been busted open!

A small trickle of blood appears on the forehead of Lunatikk Crippler, and he’s noticing it. He pats his forehead and looks at the crimson in it, shaking with rage. He gets up as Morris comes closer.

Crippler grabs Morris suddenly and rams his head into the ring apron!

MM: Oh!

Crippler motions Shelly away as he backs off, only to take a running start and drive his boot into the back of the head of the One Man Army! Morris ends up draped across the apron and the crowd is once again coming to life, the violence beginning to make them stir a bit more.

MM: Crippler is digging under the ring now. What’s he looking- oh god!

VA: YES! Here comes the steel!

Crippler hefts the steel chair in his hands as he slowly begins to inch closer toward Tyler Morris. Shelly is begging him to stop, and Misty Giovanni is shouting at him from across the ring!

Crippler raises the steel chair above his head! Morris isn’t even aware!

MM: No! Don’t do it!

VA: No! DO IT!

He looks down at Morris, putting the sounds from both the ladies out of his head. He grits his teeth..:

And tosses the steel chair!

VA: You pussy!

Both Shelly and Misty breathe a sigh of relief as Crippler goes to pick Morris up. Tyler drives his elbow into Crippler’s gut, doubling him over again.

VA: There! Now he should pay for his hesitation!

Morris looks over and sees the chair. He starts yelling at Crippler, accusing him of breaking their agreement!

MM: Keep your head, Soldier! He didn’t use it!

VA: Take his head, Soldier! He really wanted to use it!

Morris straightens Crippler out, and fires a right hand straight to the jaw! Crippler is rocked backwards as Morris begins to unload, peppering the Pillar of HATE with rights and lefts!

Crippler is pushed all the way to the guardrail when Morris finally backs off.

ONLY TO CHARGE AND TAKE BOTH MEN INTO THE CROWD WITH A CACTUS CLOTHESLINE!

The crowd roars as the action has finally spilled into their territory!

MM: Things could get ugly here, folks!

VA: Yeah, like Malone!

Morris and Crippler struggle to their feet, and Morris keeps control with a stiff fist to the face of Lunatikk Crippler. Crippler is rocked back, and spins, trying to create some distance between him and Morris. Morris closes the gap, grabbing the back of Crippler’s head and throwing him forward into a pile of recently evacuated chairs!

MM: C’mon! You guys were doing so well!

VA: Do you realize how much of a bitch you sound like?

Morris doesn’t try to excavate Crippler from the pile of steel. Instead, he goes for the cover!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler kicks out!

MM: Crippler showing some heart here. And now there’s Misty Giovanni! Be careful, girl!

VA: Hit her with a chair!

MM: ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Giovanni is pleading with Morris to take the fight back to the ring. Tyler argues briefly, still looking at Crippler with rage.

MM: The kid is seeing red right now. He’s gonna be quite dangerous.

Morris doesn’t seem to want to bring things back, but Crippler helps the decision, nailing a forearm from behind! Misty just gets out of the way as Tyler barrels past, the force of the blow from Lunatikk Crippler propelling him to the guardrail. A second forearm sends Morris back to ringside!

MM: You’ve got two men with notorious tempers. No matter how badly they wanted to keep this truce of theirs, you knew it was going to break down eventually!

VA: It’s still not brutal enough! They aren’t swinging with anything that’s not nailed down! Even the cut on Crippler’s head has dried up! We want blood! We want blood!

MM: You want them to fall into the trap of Alexander Haven!

Crippler hops the guardrail and goes after Morris. Morris is up, but Crippler rushes him again, sending him into the announce table!

VA: DON’T SPILL MY FRESCA, ASSHOLE!

Crippler slams Morris’ head on the table, and Tyler slumps to the floor. Crippler takes the protective cover off the table and flings it to the floor!

MM: Oh no!

VA: OH YEAHHHHH!

MM: Really? Kool Aid Man?

Crippler removes the monitors and gingerly picks up a can of Fresca from in front of Vincent Ashe and sets it on the floor.

VA: God, THANK YOU.

Crippler then suddenly STOMPS THE CAN to the delight of the crowd!

VA: YOU DICK! That cost me seventy five cents!

Crippler kicks Morris once in the head and then pulls him to his feet.

MM: I think Crippler is thinking power slam!

Crippler hoists Morris into his shoulder and takes a few steps back. Just then, both Shelly and Misty intercede, stepping in his path.

MM: These ladies are doing everything they can to keep their men’s tempers in check!

VA: Screw that! Avenge my soda, you harlots!

Crippler tries to wave them off, but they won’t budge! The frustration on his face is evident, but eventually, he gives in.

He changes direction and deposits Morris into the ring. Crippler follows, but gets surprised with a small package!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler breaks free! He’s back to his feet, but so is Tyler Morris! Crippler fires first, but Morris block! Tyler fires a series of quick palm strikes, and then a BRUTAL head kick that makes Crippler nearly go limp! Crippler falls to the canvas, and Morris covers!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler rolls the shoulder out!

Crippler staggers to his feet and ducks a charging Morris! Morris leaps over Crippler and scores with a sunset flip!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Crippler kicks out!

MM: Morris is looking to finish this any way he can!

VA: Not ANY way! There’s still a steel chair on our floor, and our table is still standing!

MM: You want our table destroyed?

VA: I WANT MY FRESCA AVENGED!

Morris picks Crippler up and Crippler fires a right hand!

MORRIS DUCKS!

AND HE LOCKS IN MERCY!

MM: MERCY APPLIED! AN AMAZING COUNTER!

VA: SNAP HIS ARM LIKE A TWIG!

Crippler is literally screaming in pain as Morris wrenches back on this standing version of his patented submission hold!

MM: The pressure being applied isn’t the same as if Morris had him down on the mat, but it’s still EXTREMELY painful!

Morris tries to kick the knee out of Crippler, but Crippler manages to somehow avoid the attempts, despite the pain in his arm!

MM: Crippler is trying to free himself, but Morris isn’t giving him the opportunity! Crippler moves towards the ropes and dives through them, pulling TyMo along for the ride!

The impact on the floor is enough to jar Morris from the hold!

MM: And we’re back outside now! I don’t know if tempers are going to be held much longer.

Both men get to their feet, Crippler favoring his arm. Misty and Shelly are nearby, both concerned for their men.

Crippler turns and charges Morris, readying a clothesline!

Morris ducks! OH!

MM: Oh no! Lunatikk Crippler tried to pull back after Morris ducked that clothesline, but he just… He just nailed his own girlfriend!

Shelly Auero is stunned on the floor, having rolled her ankle trying to avoid the contact with Crippler. The Masochists eyes are wide with shock as he looks down at his fallen love.

VA: Oh, this is gonna get good! Lunatikk Crippler just took out his own voice of reason! What’s gonna stop him from shredding Tyler Morris now?

Crippler turns back to Tyler, shaking with rage. Morris tries to apologize, but Crippler grabs him by the head and rams Morris’s skull into the ring post!

MM: Oh god, I heard that thud!

Crippler mounts Morris and begins raining down rapid fire right hands with no stopping.

Misty Giovanni tries to intervene, but as soon as she gets close, Crippler stands and points at her, backing her down.

VA: Keep trying, lady. He’ll squash you!

MM: Like a can of Fresca!

VA: Too soon, man.

Crippler digs under the ring and pulls out a small burlap sack. There is not going to be any surprise as to what’s inside, and Crippler wastes no time in emptying it.

MM: Thumbtacks! Crippler has lost it!

Crippler spreads the tacks out, and turns back to Tyler Morris.

Only now, Crippler’s OWN GIRLFRIEND is laying across him, hand extended in an obvious sign.

“Please. Stop.”

VA: What is this? Is she turning on her own Man?

MM: Tyler Morris is her FRIEND, genius. She doesn’t want these two to devolve into such violence!

VA: God dammit, devolve! Devolve!!

Crippler looks angered and confused, but Shelly is pleading with him to stop! He argues back, but Shelly is actually CRYING now.

“Please. For me.”

Crippler seems to be having a silent argument with himself.

He stomps over and delicately removes Shelly from the body of Tyler Morris.

Crippler lifts Morris up, readying for a big slam.

He looks towards the tacks!!

And turns, rolling Morris back into the ring!

MM: This crowd wants blood, but even THEY appreciate the respect Crippler is showing his rival right now!

Crippler rolls into the ring as Morris pulls himself off the canvas. Crippler charges, but Morris ducks!

Morris rebounds off the ropes!

MM: PTSD! PTSD! Good god, Crippler’s head is still in the air after that home run shot from Tyler Morris!

Morris hooks the leg!

 

 

One!!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

 

Noooooo! Crippler gets his foot on the rope! David Tucker sees it just before the three!

VA: Morris isn’t happy with the call, but it was the right one.

MM: That was….. Insightful.

A loud fart can be heard over Ashe’s microphone.

MM: Oh, god! No more Fresca!!

Morris is arguing with Tucker about the count, while Crippler recovers on the ground. Crippler crawls over and goes between the legs of Tyler Morris!

VA: School boy!

MM: Low blow!

Crippler takes Morris over with the school boy, and covers the man clean!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

THREE!

The bell rings and Crippler rolls out of the ring where Shelly is still tending to her ankle. Morris is grabbing his crotch, incensed.

NR: Here is your winner, Lunatikk Crippler!

MM: A low blow ends it all, after this entire match he’s fought to keep it clean!

VA: Now mind you, dude destroyed my Fresca. I don’t ACTUALLY think that any low blow you speak of was intentional!

MM: Regardless, Morris is PISSED.

Misty Giovanni is in the ring, trying to calm Tyler down. Morris is screaming at Crippler, but he has lifted Shelly up and is carrying her to the back to check on her ankle.

MM: I don’t know what the fallout from this is going to be, but I have the feeling this one might not be over yet!

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: LUNATIKK CRIPPLER (14:39)


(We cut backstage, where, frantically pacing, Sahara looks down at her phone before pecking away at it’s screen. Staring at it a moment, she runs her hand through her hair before she begins pacing again, seeming to talk to herself all the while.

Tapping the screen a few more times, she brings the phone to her ear and glares at the camera the moment she notices it. Holding up a finger and she says, “No”, before turning away suddenly.)

Sahara: Michael, baby, it’s me…I-I don’t know where you went and yer phone is dropping to voice mail…please just…call–

(Pausing a moment she pulls the phone from her ear and screams, “FUCK!”)

Sahara: Fucking god damn fucking cell phones. FUCK YOU, YOU GODDAMN iPIECE OF SHIT!

(Holding the phone close to her face, she screams at it.)

Sahara: FUCK YOU, YOU STUPID APPLE COCKSUCKER! Fucking Tim Jobs or whatever the fuck his name is…asshole!

(Frantically tapping on the phone’s screen, she brings it back to her ear, her voice almost instantly happier sounding.)

Sahara: Michael, sorry hon, my phone dropped…I uh, where are you? Hey, I don’t know where you went and you said you’d see me after the show…we were supposed to go out, remember? Please, baby, just … just call me when you get this, okay?! Okay. Bye.

(Hanging up the phone, Sahara slowly lowers it to her side and wipes her eyes before turning and noticing the camera again. Lowering her head, her jaw clenches as she stares directly at the camera, her eyes burning. Any semblance of happiness in her voice instantly vanishing.)

Sahara: I suggest you turn that fucking camera off before I come over there and show some footage of that camera going straight up yer ass, you–

(The feed suddenly cuts back to ringside.)

MM: Well, that was…pleasant.

VA: I kinda wanted to see that footage…


(The camera cuts to the backstage locker room area, where we see Calvin and Louis Walker, known throughout the wrestling world as Public Enemy, sitting on a couple of couches, changed from their earlier attire after their match with Kharrion earlier this evening, enjoying a couple of beers. On the couch next to Calvin is his brother-in-law, and the current EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Grady Smith, lacing up his wrestling boots, preparing for his main event match tonight against Ray Willmott. In between the two couches is a coffee table, with a few more empty beer bottles scattered across it.

Calvin, having finished another bottle, sets it down on the coffee table, slapping Grady on the shoulder.)

Calvin Walker: You ready for tonight, brother?

Grady Smith: It’s a title match… just like old times.

(Calvin laughs.)

Calvin Walker: Just like old times, indeed. Man, that was fun earlier tonight.

Louis Walker: Yeah, no wonder you keep coming back to this stuff. I don’t know if my body could do it week in and week out, but every once in awhile, hell yeah.

Grady Smith: It really is a rush. And I think, knowing everything that we know now, there’s no pressure.

Louis Walker: I get it, completely. Just going out there, having some fun..

Calvin Walker: … and if you win, awesome. And if you don’t, as long as you’re not in a hospital, heal up, have a few beers, and go do it again another time.

(Grady looks at Calvin. He knows what Calvin meant and that there wasn’t any maliciousness behind it, but the word ‘hospital’ brings back a memory he’d rather soon forget.)

Louis Walker: So let’s have a toast… to no hospitals!

Grady Smith: Can you two relax on the whole hospital talk? I’m sure your sister doesn’t want to be thinking about a hospital visit anytime soon.

Calvin Walker: Shit, sorry man.

(Grady stands up, patting Calvin on the back.)

Grady Smith: All good, brother. It was good to see you two out there. I’m glad you guys decided to come on the trip last minute. I know J was surprised to see you.

Louis Walker: “Figured she could use a break from being around your grouchy ass all the time.

???: Funny, I didn’t get the invite to the family function here in London…

(The crowd boos as the camera turns towards the entrance of the locker room to see Martin Robertson standing there. No Alyssa, no Alex, just the youngest member of the Three Kings, still in his ring gear from earlier, but now wearing a black t-shirt that’s soaked with a white towel around his neck. Martin has a hand wrapped around each end of the towel, pulling it down towards his neck.)

Calvin Walker: Speaking of grouchy asses…

Martin Robertson: What was that, Unc? Not quite sure I heard that…

Louis Walker: What do you want, Martin?

Martin Robertson: Oh, nothing. Just came to wish dear old dad here good luck in his match against Puff the Magic Dragon later tonight. I’m sure it’ll be a riveting matchup between you two. Alex has already told the production truck that we might have to cut over to the backup feed of Drunken English Darts during your match…

Calvin Walker: Boy, you just don’t get it, do you?

Martin Robertson: Get what, Unc? I don’t get my ability to be a kiss-ass suck up like the rest of this family? To play goodie-two-shoes to these simpleton fans that applaud idiotic wrestlers that placate to them as opposed to those who actually have some skill in the ring?

Calvin Walker: Do you remember what I told you that afternoon when you were first starting out and I came over to your place?

Martin Robertson: No, because you were too busy eating my food and I couldn’t figure out what words were coming out of your mouth.

Calvin Walker: I told you the same thing we were told when we were first starting out… Do your talking in the ring during your matches, not backstage or on a microphone. Because lately, both in the ring and backstage, all I’ve heard coming out from you is a bunch of bullshi…

Grady Smith: Easy, Cal. Junior must have something important to say. He wouldn’t have walked all the way over to our locker room if he didn’t… now would you, Junior?

Martin Robertson: Would you stop… calling me… Junior?

Grady Smith: Sorry, sport. What’s on your mind?

(Martin clinches his fist tight, really wanting to say something.. But for him, he holds off… for now.)

Martin Robertson: Just a warning… pops. Your days as champion around here are numbered. That belt will be coming home around the waist of the Three Kings. You won’t know when, you won’t know how. But very soon, you’re not going to be the member of the Smith family with gold around their waist.

(Grady, Calvin and Louie all look back and forth at each other for a few moments before looking back at Martin.)

Martin Robertson: What?

(Suddenly, the three men burst out with laughter. Louie is laughing so much that he finds himself doubled over in laughter pains!)

Grady Smith: Oh, sport, that’s a good one.

(Grady looks at Calvin and Louis…)

Grady Smith: You hear that, boys, you guys might be champions shortly!

Louis Walker: I could use some new wall decorations… sweet!

(Martin is fuming now…)

Martin Robertson: Not them, you idiots! ME! I’m going to be the next champion! I am the longest-reigning singles champion in EWA history! 188 days… look it up!

(The other three men look at each other, rolling their eyes.)

Grady Smith: Sport, listen…You’re old enough to make your own decisions now. You can associate with whomever you want to. You can decide what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it. I know you’ve got your little first family of wrestling now or whatever it is…

Martin Robertson: Three Kings, dad… Three. Kings.

Grady Smith: Sure, Junior. Your We Three Kings thing… sounds great. But what you’re missing here, is that while you’ve been doing a lot of this…

(Grady mimics a talking motion with his hand.)

Grady Smith: … I’ve been doing a lot of this…

(Grady mimics counting to three with his hand, then raising his hand in the air.)

Grady Smith: So, like your uncle said, until you’ve figured out that you should be doing more of the second one and less of the first one, that World Heavyweight Championship belt that I proudly carry around… will NEVER be around your waist. Hard life lesson, I know. Your little Network Title run… it was a good step for you. But this is the big leagues, slugger. You better learn how to do more than bunt and ask for instant replays.

(At this point, Grady, Calvin and Louie are all standing in a semi-circle around Martin. And while Martin is a decent height, the other three men are doing exactly what they intend to do: make him look like a small child. Martin, to his credit, though, looks at all three men in the eye before taking a couple of steps back towards the entrance of the locker room. Calvin and Louie pat Grady on the back before turning towards the back table to grab another beer.

Just before Martin heads out the door, though, he turns back one last time, locking eyes with his father. The two men stare at each other before Grady sits back down to finish getting ready for his match.)


NATALIE BURROWS VS SAHARA

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall!

In This Moment’s ‘Adrenalize’ hits the speakers as the lights turn up to maximum intensity and momentarily bathe the arena in blinding white light. As the initial burst of light fades, the jumbotron simultaneously fades in from black to white and a reddish hue slowly descends over the rampway. Blood slowly begins dripping down the screen as Sahara emerges onto the rampway the a raucous chorus of boos. Picking her head up, she seems to sigh as she begins walking down the rampway.

NR: Introducing first, standing at 5 foot 10 inches, weighing in at 175 pounds from Chicago, Illinois, Saharaaaaaa!

MM: No crazy intro from Nikki? What happened earlier tonight with Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre seems to really be weighing on her. Her usual high energy introduction just…seems flat tonight.

VA: I hope she’s focusing her anger on Natalie Burrows…the woman that could have been a part of the Fallout, but turned it down and now needs to get put down.

MM: If you say so.

VA: I do say so, nobody turns down an invitation from the God Queen.

Foregoing her usual pomp and circumstance, Sahara simply ascends the ringside stairs and steps through the ropes and immediately goes to the nearest turnbuckle. She climbs to the second rope and holds both hands up toward the lights, seeming to go through the motions before looking back up the rampway, awaiting her opponent.

The arena suddenly goes black and the darkness lingers for a few seconds before the opening chords of ‘Monster’ by Paramore play as the jumbotron springs to life. Grainy black and white degraded film of the Southern Belle fighting her way back up to her feet play on the tron as the crowd cheers the on screen appearance of fan favorite Natalie Burrows. As the blond regains her footing in the video package, bruised and battered but still willing to fight, the chorus hits with a vengeance as the Southern Belle makes her way out from behind the curtain.

NR: And the challenger, standing at 5 foot 9 inches, weighing in at 160 pounds, the Southern Belle of the EWA … Naaatalie Burrowsssssss!

As coral and white lights flash down along the rampway, Natalie charges down toward the ring, wasting no time. Her focus is on none other than her opponent, Sahara. Speeding up even more as she nears the bottom of the ramp, she slides into the ring on her stomach before jumping to her feet, bumping into Sahara as referee Rick Iley quickly separates the two.

MM: She has to stick her nose in everything, not even letting Burrows finish her entrance.

VA: Good, we came here to see a fight, Malone, not–

MM: NATALIE ISN’T WASTING ANY TIME!

The crowd roars as the Southern Belle runs right through the referee and hits the other blonde with a quick succession of strikes, sending Sahara into the turnbuckles. Grabbing hold of the top rope, Natalie repeatedly kicks Sahara in the midsection, sending her down on her ass much to the delight of the crowd! Rolling out of the ring holding her abdomen, Sahara yells something up at Rick Iley as she staggers and falls to a knee on the outside, stumbling back into the ringside barricade. As Natalie attempts to exit the ring to continue to her assault, Rick Iley wraps his arms around Burrows midsection and pulls her off the ropes!

MM: I’ve never seen Natalie Burrows this angry before!

VA: It’s about time, get in there, Iley! The bell hasn’t even rang yet!

MM: After the threats Sahara made to Natalie and people she loves this past week, not to mention the rumors of what she did to that wrestling school, I’m not sure Burrows cares about the bell!

Attempting to regain control of the match, Rick Iley points the seething Burrows into her corner as Sahara tentatively rolls back into the ring, jawing at the referee about Burrows “illegal” pre-bell attack. As Natalie once again rushes forward, Iley grabs her around the waist and wrestles the Southern Belle into the corner — OHHHH!

MM: Sahara with a cheap shot while Burrows was being held back by the ref!

VA: So it’s not a cheap shot when Burrows does it?! Got it, Malone.

MM: Sahara wasn’t being held back by the damn referee, Ashe, and you know it!

Sizing up Burrows, Sahara charges across the ring and SMASHES INTO THE TURNBUCKLES AS NATALIE DUCKS OUT OF THE WAY! Rick Iley finally throws his arms up and calls for the bell as Sahara staggers out of the corner, dazed from the impact.

*DING* *DING*

VA: It’s about time, Iley!

Lining Sahara up as she staggers back, Natalie connects with a perfectly placed roundhouse sending the blonde flat on her back! Instantly grabbing the former Combat champion, Burrows wrenches her to her feet and tosses her back into the turnbuckles! Hitting with such surprise impact, Sahara almost falls on her ass before grabbing the ropes to steady herself as the crowd cheers the stiff forearm that Natalie Burrows follows up with.

As Rick Iley once again separates them, Sahara entwines herself in the ropes for a moment of rest. As Iley finally gets Burrows to back off, Sahara kicks the bottom rope and yells something out toward the audience as she looks back at Natalie Burrows. Coming out of the corner, the two lock up, pushing each other back toward the ropes before breaking contact momentarily and locking up again. Rearing back, the Southern Belle SHOVES Sahara back into the turnbuckles again much to the delight of the crowd.

MM: She overpowered Sahara!

VA: Give me a break, Malone, Sahara was just off balance there.

MM: If you say so.

Stepping up the two lock up with Natalie’s head tilting back as Sahara grips a handful of hair, pushing her back into the corner. Iley breaks the lockup and admonishes Sahara for pulling her hair — *CRACK*. An ‘Ohhhhhhh’ floats over the crowd as Sahara slaps Natalie across the face before backing away, making sure Iley is standing between the two.

MM: She’s clearly trying to knock Borrows off her game…

The two exchange words before going in for a lockup, but Natalie ducks under with a knee to the gut! Sahara doubles over and stepping out behind her, Natalie puts a boot on Sahara’s ass and shoves her to the mat to a large pop from the audience! Scrambling to her feet, Sahara haphazardly rushes toward Natalie who again ducks out of the way and hits her with a combination of quick strikes before Sahara falls into the corner and Natalie follows it up with a series of vicious boots, finally stomping the Fallout member down onto the canvas, the crowd cheering along with every blow that lands!

As Iley steps in, Sahara rolls herself out of the ring and slams both hands down on the ring apron yelling something about Natalie being a lucky bitch!

As Iley keeps Natalie at bay, the Southern Belle shrugs as Sahara paces around the ringside area as the referee begins the count.

 

 

One…

 

 

Two…

 

 

Three…

 

 

Yelling something up at Ricky Iley, Sahara storms around the outside of the ring toward the announcers booth and makes motion toward Mike Malone.

 

 

Four!

 

 

Sahara grabs a mic and jumps up onto the announcer’s booth.

Sahara: FIVE! Yeah, yeah, we get it…hurry it up already! That little priss doesn’t even belong in the same ring as me!

MM: She’s gonna get herself counted out!

Sahara: (Along with the referee): C’mon, sing along, morons! SIX!

The crowd cheers, much to the amazement of the Crimson Queen, as she lifts the mic to her lips…

Sahara: SEVEN!

The crowd cheers even louder–

Sahara: EIG–

The mic drops as Sahara collides and flips over the ringside barricade into the audience to a massive pop! The crowd surrounding her spreads out as security hop the rail to create space for the action.

MM: Did you see that move?! Natalie Burrows took to the sky and escalated the action with a missile drop kick that sent Sahara right into the crowd!

VA: She could have broken our damn booth with that! Stupid Burrows.

MM: Natalie’s making a statement here!

Rolling herself off the announcers booth where she landed from hitting the insane move, Rick Iley exits the ring and attempts to regain control of the action. Ignoring the referee, Natalie gathers some distance and lines Sahara up, who’s just getting to her feet in the crowd. Charging forward, Natalie dives over the barricade and clears it with ease, bringing Sahara down with a shoulder block that sends her further back into the scattering fans. Slow to get up from the impact, she grabs Sahara by the hair and rushes toward the barricade and tosses her back over. Climbing up the barricade, the Southern Belle brings her down with a perfectly placed double axe-handle. Crawling back toward the ring, Natalie scoops her up and throws her beneath the bottom rope where Sahara rolls further into the ring.

MM: Wow, what a furious sequence of events, these two are tearing it up!

VA: Sahara needs to slow the match down in a hurry!

Staggering to her feet, Sahara looks up just in time to be brought down by a diving clothesline. Rolling toward the corner, Sahara sits herself up as Natalie storms at her — SAHARA GRABS HER BY THE SHIRT AND YANKS BURROWS FORWARD!

MM: Oh God! She just bounced her head off the ringpost!

Stunned, Natalie recoils from the corner holding the top of her head and falls flat on her back, rolling around in a daze. Slowly getting to her feet, Sahara repositions Natalie and turns toward the corner and slaps her hand on the top turnbuckle in anger. She stomps down on her opponent and lets out a scream.

 

Again.

 

And again.

 

She then slaps the turnbuckle again and lets out a second scream.

MM: I just knew something was wrong with her, Ashe. To this point, she tried her best to play the part but she’s lost it in there.

VA: What with her meal ticket ditching her in a foreign country for his ex, who happens to be one of her arch enemies? Ya don’t say! I knew she’d crack eventually.

MM: Sahara’s been showing obvious signs of frustration with her opponent but — okay, what the hell is she doing now?!

Climbing to the top, Sahara carefully balances herself and stands upright, holding both arms out momentarily. Sahara leaps forward off the top for a SHOOTING STAR PRESS! A resounding “Ohhhhhhh”, emanates from the crowd as mid-flip, Sahara’s foot comes in contact the the top rope and sends her spiraling down awkwardly, crashing down and narrowly missing Natalie.

MM: Oh wow, her foot hit the ropes!

VA: She’s breaking out this new arsenal of moves, but she’s let her anger take control. She messed that one up horribly and could have seriously hurt herself there.

MM: Natalie looking to capitalize…this might be it!

Reaching over, Natalie grabs Sahara by the shirt and rolls her onto her back. Rolling over onto the fallen blonde, Natalie reaches down and hooks the leg!

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

THREE–

 

 

 

NO! KICKOUT!

 

MM: That was like two and nine-tenths! I can’t believe she got that shoulder up! I thought she was done!

VA: Look at the expression on Natalie’s face, I don’t think she can believe it either!

Sitting up, Natalie sweeps her hair back and pushes herself up to her feet as Sahara slowly pushes herself onto her side. Shaking her head out, she grabs the Fallout member and lifts her up and applies a headlock, wrenching her neck to wear her opponent down.

MM: Smart move, keeping her grounded and not letting her catch her breath after that failed shooting star.

VA: It’d be smarter to let Sahara fly, it’s obvious she’s not thinking straight…

MM: Well, that’s probably why they’re in there and we’re out here.

Leading Natalie closer to the ropes, Sahara pushes her back and bounces her off the ropes, sending her across … NO! Natalie puts on the brakes and drops to a knee, holding the headlock tightly. Punching at Natalie’s midsection a few times, Sahara shoves her toward the ropes but Natalie once again hangs on, dropping Sahara to a knee. Powering back up, Sahara rushes back against the ropes with Natalie and finally gets enough momentum to send the Southern Belle off the opposing ropes, rebounding with a flying forearm! Sahara goes down hard, grabbing the back of her head and instinctively rolls out of the ring and drops the the floor.

MM: Wow, nice technical sequence there. Sahara showing some wherewithal to get out of there after taking that shot to the head. Natalie Burrows sure knows her way around the ring, I have to say.

VA: Even with the mistakes Sahara’s made, you can see the progress she’s made with Sinnocence…if she keeps this up she could remain an important asset to the God Queen.

MM: As if she wasn’t already?

As Sahara finally crawls back onto the ring apron, Natalie reaches over the top rope and grabs the other blonde by the hair, pulling her upright on the ring apron. Throwing an arm over her neck, Natalie lifts Sahara for a suplex — SAHARA KICKS HER LEGS OUT! NO! Sahara tries to lift Natalie for a suplex to the outside! NO! Natalie hooks the ropes, stopping the move. Natalie follows with a quick succession of solid strikes to Sahara’s ribs and powers her over the top with a SUPLEX! Natalie rolls through into a cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW-KICKOUT!

 

 

 

MM: Barely a two count on that one.

As Sahara pushes herself back to her feet, Natalie bounds off the ropes — SAHARA DROPS DOWN AND ROLLS OUT OF THE RING! The fans ringside boo the escape tactic, but Sahara merely shakes her head and takes a sarcastic bow to the crowd and taps the side of her head, eliciting another salvo of boos. A harsh, “Fuck you too, fatass”, can be heard from the blonde toward the fans at ringside.

MM: Really nice language…

VA: Most of em’ deserve it.

As Sahara argues with fans ringside, Natalie scouts where Sahara’s standing and bounces of the ropes to pick up steam and baseball slides through the bottom rope but Sahara telegraphs the move and runs to the side, once again tapping the side of her head. Natalie lands on her feet and immediately gives chase as Sahara turns and runs, jumping over the ringside steps, she slides through the bottom ropes. Right behind her every step of the way, Natalie slides into the ring and charges. Rushing across the ring Natalie leaps up with a crushing kick SAHARA PULLS RICK ILEY IN FRONT OF HER AND NATALIE CONNECTS!

MM: Iley took that right on the chin! He’s out!

VA: Natalie should be disqualified for attacking the referee! This match should be over!

MM: Are you kidding me?! Sahara pulled him in the way!

Scrambling to check if Iley’s okay, Natalie finds herself on the receiving end of a backstabber as Sahara seizes the moment, stunning her opponent. Approaching Rick Iley, Sahara kicks him beneath the bottom ropes and shoves him out of the ring to the floor below.

MM: There’s no love lost between those two.

Turning her attention back to her opponent, Sahara grabs the Southern Belle by the hair and swings her around wildly, picking up momentum enough to throw Natalie toward the corner where she hits the canvas and skitters to a stop. Sahara instantly picks her up and throws her into the opposite turnbuckles where Natalie recoils from the impact and gets taken clear off her feet by a Banshee’s Wail superkick. Sahara stops and points up toward the lights!

VA: She sent Natalie horizontal with that one!

MM: Is Sahara purposefully stealing Maggie McIntyres moveset? And let’s just ignore the fact Sahara used the referee to completely derail Natalie’s momentum.

VA: I must have missed that.

Stepping through the ropes, Sahara drops to the outside and lifts the ring apron. Pulling out a steel folding chair, she slides it through the bottom ropes and rolls back into the ring. Approaching Natalie, Sahara brings the top edge of the chair down across the Southern Belle’s knee causing her to writhe in pain. Lifting the chair above her head, Sahara brings it crashing down across Natalie’s left arm and torso.

MM: Iley’s stirring on the outside, but he hasn’t seen what’s going down, this match could be over after those vicious chair shots Natalie just sustained.

Opening the chair, Sahara interweaves Natalie’s leg in the chair as the crowd boos. Pointing down at the prone Burrows, Sahara can be heard screaming, “I’m gonna end her!” as she moves toward the corner and climbs the turnbuckles. With every step she takes, the boos grow louder.

MM: She’s gonna try to break Natalie’s leg!

VA: Good, she deserves it for attacking Rick Iley like that!

MM: Sahara clearly yanked Iley in front of that blow, Ashe.

Climbing back to the top, Sahara balances herself and lifts both arms in the air and leaps — NO! RICK ILEY’S BACK! HE’S BACK IN ACTION! Yelling up toward Sahara, Iley commands her to “get off the ropes” threatening to disqualify her as Sahara points down at him and yells angrily for him to move!

MM: Did she just yell Remington special off the top?! Don’t you dare move, Iley!

VA: Why can’t these refs mind their own business and stay out of the action?!

Pointing down at Rick Iley, Sahara screams, “move you idiot!”, but Iley refuses. Natalie can be seen trying to get the chair off of her knee, but she only manages to get it partway off of her before Sahara finally shrugs and attempts to leap over Iley but Iley jumps up and reaches for her at the last second and hits her boot, sending the blonde head over heels! In mind air, Sahara contorts her body and tucks her chin at the last second before connecting across Natalie and the chair, eliciting a painful yelp from the Southern Belle as the former Combat champion rolls through a swanton bomb!

Rolling into the ropes, Sahara collapses as Natalie clutches her leg, trying to kick the mangled chair off it in agony.

A vocal contingent of fans surrounding ringside begin chanting “Holy Shit”, as neither Sahara nor Natalie move from their respective positions for a few moments before Natalie slams her fist into the mat.

MM: Sahara just tried to end Natalie’s career and the Southern Belle knows it! She is absolutely fuming!

VA: Sahara might have taken the brunt of that move, Malone. Iley’s interference was uncalled for and should be brought under review, she could have broken her damn neck!

MM: He was just trying to stop her from stomping that chair and you know it. She tried to jump over him despite the repeated warnings of a disqualification — just take a look at the replay. Iley saved Natalie’s leg from what was sure to be a major injury by doing what he did…and Sahara still found a way to do some damage despite hurting herself in the process! Uh oh, the usually calm Southern Belle isn’t done! She’s LOST IT!

Lying beneath the bottom rope reaching for the small of her back, Sahara lays on her side, facing out toward the crowd who rabidly cheer the action that just took place as Natalie pushes herself up to one knee. Fueled by adrenaline and a seething anger, she attempts to scramble toward Sahara, but the Southern Belle is unable to put weight on her leg. Gritting her teeth, the Southern Belle manages to get to her feet before she’s limping her way across the ring as quick as she can… which is quick enough for her to catch Sahara in the head with a sharp kick from that injured leg, wincing at the contact! The crowd cheers as Natalie brings her leg back anew–

Iley’s pulling Natalie back before she can get her hands on Sahara! The crowd boos at the referee getting in the way of the action.

MM: Sahara wanted a fight, Natalie brought her one!

VA: Sahara’s in the ropes, Malone…funny how the rules never seem to apply to Miss Burrows with you.

Rolling onto her back, Sahara reaches up and grabs the second rope, sitting herself up as she mouths something obscene toward Natalie Burrows. The two verbally bicker as Rick Iley stands in front of Natalie, keeping her in the corner.

After smoothing things over with Natalie for a moment, Iley waves it off motions out toward the timekeeper.

*DING* *DING* *DING*

MM: Wait…what?! I think Iley’s stopping the match! He’s calling it!

VA: Such bull, Malone…after what we just witnessed? That was a hell of a fight!

MM: We need to take those two and put em’ in a cage.

The crowd boos the ringing of the bell as a “Let Them Fight” chant spreads across the arena. Shaking his head and waving off the crowd, Iley discusses the decision with Nikki Rogers.

MM: Here’s Nikki with the official decision…

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match as a result of a disqualification — Natalie Burrows!

Despite booing the stoppage of the match, the crowd cheers the official decision as Iley once again checks on Natalie Burrows, raising her arm in the process. Natalie grabs the top rope and raises her hand in victory but nearly stumbles trying to put weight on the leg. Gingerly stepping through the ropes, Natalie’s careful to step down the ringside stairs as Iley lends a hand.

MM: Like it or not, it was the right call! This wasn’t a no-disqualification match, Ashe, and Sahara went out of her way to hurt Natalie out of anger and frustration.

VA: For once I agree with the crowd, this is BS.

MM: Natalie had the momentum and Sahara literally yanked the referee in the line of fire and then proceeded to cheat in every way imaginable. Crowd pleasing action or not, it was the right decision and I stand by it.

YOUR WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION: NATALIE BURROWS (11:26)


(Sister Sin’s ‘Chaos Royale’ suddenly hits the speakers as Grace Goeren emerges from the back with the Combat title draped over her shoulder, flanked by the monster Lucy Blaylock and the White Angel, Elizabeth Gaunt, who holds the Network title up for all to see before fastening it around her waist. As they stroll down the ramp, the girls all glare at Natalie Burrows, who’s being helped to the back by referee Rick Iley. The God Queen shakes her head as she approaches ringside, motioning for a mic as she steps up onto the ringside steps.

Back in the ring, Sahara’s finally gotten back to her feet, attempting to stretch her back out a bit to shake the lingering effects of the swanton bomb onto the chair that took place minutes ago. Grace, Lucy and Liz step through the ropes and Grace quickly checks on Sahara before kicking the mangled chair out of the ring. She kneels back down next to Sahara, putting a comforting hand on her back before rising back to her feet. Draping her Combat title over the top rope, Grace turns her attention back toward her followers.)

Grace Goeren: You all see that shit?! My girl goin’ crazy up in here with those high flying moves! That’s lit before lit was lit, you feel me?

(The crowd boos at the mere sound of Grace’s voice.)

Grace Goeren: Yeah, fuck you too. My baby girl Sahara here just kicked that rednecks prissy ass and what does she get for it? Disqualified? Fuck that.

(Walking over to Sahara, Grace grabs her by the wrist and raises her hand in victory to the disapproving jeers of the crowd.)

Grace Goeren: This is your fucking winner tonight, ladies and fuckfaces.

MM: I’m not sure these fans agree.

VA: And I’m sure what these fans think doesn’t matter. What matters is the God Queen’s will, and that means Sahara won.

Grace Goeren: Okay, so now that we got that bit of fuckery out of the way, I gotta clear the air a bit. Seems there was a bit of a misunderstanding between a few of us in the Fallout this past week about what went down at Battlelines. Yeah, yeah, we all saw the videos of when I won this glorious World Combat championship…

(The crowd boos at the mention of the “World” Combat championship as Grace points at the title and turns back toward Sahara. Approaching the blonde, Grace takes her by the hand.)

Grace Goeren: But, truth is…I got caught up in the moment. I forgot to thank you, my most loyal baby…the one that was there with me every step of the way! I feel dumb…let’s be honest. I mean, what a shitty thing for me to do to you. I don’t know how I forgot to thank you, Lauren…

(Placing a hand on Sahara’s shoulder, Grace looks her in those baby blue eyes.)

Grace Goeren: From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. Do you think you could find it in yourself to forgive your loving Queen?

(The crowd boos but without waiting for a response, she opens her arms and hugs the blonde tightly, lovingly patting her baby on the back of the head a few times. With a light kiss on each cheek, Grace nods to her right hand. Placing her forehead against Sahara’s, Grace smiles brightly.)

MM: Grace playing damage control here…no matter how much she tries to spin it here tonight, she completely ignored Sahara’s contributions when she won that Combat Title…

VA: Blasphemy. And it’s called the WORLD Combat Title. Get it right or you’re walking home.

Grace Goeren: Don’t listen to the twat-sicles out here or the assholes in the back, my darling angel. All they care about is breaking us up…because they know that together we can’t be stopped. But we won’t let them do that, will we? No…there, there. There she is again…my baby girl. Now, Sahara, do what you do best and tell these people to fuck themselves for trying to come between us. That Combat World championship, it’s not just for me…it’s for all of us.

(As Grace hands her the mic, a smile spreads across the blonde’s face as she nods to her Queen. Giving her another quick hug, Sahara’s lips slowly curl into a smirk as she turns toward the audience.)

MM: Oh wonderful, now Sahara’s gonna talk…

VA: Shhhh! I wanna hear this.

Sahara: Lemme just start by saying I to–

 

*CRASH*

 

FALL FROM GRACE!

MM: WHAT?!

VA: YES!

MM: Grace just took Sahara down!

VA: Hahah, she never saw it coming, Malone! Ding-dong the bitch is dead!

(By the time she felt it, it was too late to react. Arching her already injured back from the Burrows match with a painful looking grimace, Sahara flips to her side with no recognition of what blindsided her. After landing her devastating finishing maneuver, Grace rolls up onto one knee and glares down at the fallen blonde with a face full of rage as she snatches up the mic Sahara dropped moments before.)

Grace Goeren: Did you honestly believe I’d apologize to you, you worthless whore?

(Spitting down at Sahara, Grace motions to Liz and Lucy.)

Grace Goeren: GET THE BITCH UP! LUCY, PICK HER UP! Keep her on her feet.

(Pacing in front of Sahara as Lucy yanks her upright, Grace lifts the mic.)

Grace Goeren: I can’t even tell ya how long I’ve been looking forward to this moment. Holy fucking shit, this is like…total hashtag dream scenario for me.

(Grace shakes her head with a laugh as Sahara seems to mouth something inaudible.)

Grace Goeren: Jesus, you NEVER shut the fuck up!

(As Lucy holds her steady, Grace slams the mic into Sahara’s stomach with an echoing thud and grabs her by the hair, yanking her head back as a cry escapes her lips.)

Grace Goeren: Maybe this’ll shut you up, you slutfaced bitch. Rumor has it you like to swallow things. C’mon, swallow this you empty headed cunt.

(Ripping the blonde’s head back with an iron grip, Grace proceeds to try to force the butt end of the mic into Sahara’s mouth, but she twists her head away, refusing to cooperate. Angry at her defiance, Grace bashes the side of mic off of Sahara’s face and screams something unintelligible at her.)

MM: My God she could have knocked her damn teeth out!

Grace Goeren: And here I thought deepthroating a mic would be your wettest cock-gobbling dream come true! You’re fucking trash, Lauren! The only time you were EVER anything other than a hole to fuck was when I made you beautiful. Now look at you…LOOK AT YOU!

(Tossing the mic to Lizzie, Grace hauls off and belts Sahara across the jaw. Again. And again. Suddenly fired up, Grace lands a rapid fire series of vicious forearms and fists to random areas of her face and head. Finally, she grabs the blonde by a tuft of hair and continues raining down shots to the back of her head to the point the God Queen stops, panting heavily from the sheer number of punches thrown. Resting forward on her knees to catch her breath, Grace motions for Lucy to lift her back upright, glaring at Sahara with the look of raging bloodlust in her eyes. Her former right hand nearly falls limp in Lucy’s arms as blood slowly drips from Grace’s knuckles.

Motioning back to Elizabeth Gaunt, Grace takes the mic from her.)

Grace Goeren: Bare witness the Slut Queen’s diseased blood on MY hands.

(Letting out a laugh, Grace raises her bloody fist for all to see before turning her attention back toward her captive. Grace shoves Sahara’s head back and slaps her across the face HARD, the sound echoing across the arena.)

Grace Goeren: You made me do this. You think I like having to punish my babies and put them down? You think replacing a servant is EASY? Wake her ass up, cuz I ain’t through with her yet. Not by a long shot…

(Complying with the order, Lucy jostles Sahara’s head around a bit as Grace lightly slaps her prey, bringing her back into consciousness.)

MM: Jesus, she’s waking her up so she can beat her more? This is flat out torture.

VA: A practice Sahara specialized in these past few months. Let’s not make her into some kind of angel here, Malone. She’s getting exactly what she deserves. I guarantee every single member of this roster is standing backstage watching this on a monitor and they’re loving every second of it.

MM: It’s hard to argue she doesn’t deserve some form of retribution for her sins, but I’m not sure this is it.

(Hauling off, Grace brings an elbow shot across Sahara’s face, jerking her head back from the impact. Blood flows from a gash above her right eye, tracing her eyebrow and trickling down her face.)

Grace Goeren: Now open your dirty fucking mouth and say ahhh…

MM: Oh, good God!

(Grabbing her former right hand beneath the jaw, Grace forces her mouth open with a deranged look on her face and forces the butt end of the mic deep into Sahara’s mouth to the point it triggers her gag reflex. Lurching forward, the mic drops to the mat as a disgusting gurgle emerges through the speakers. Lucy releases Sahara who collapses forward onto all fours, spitting up blood and saliva while grasping her throat.

Motioning for a second mic outside the ring, Grace Goeren yells something ringside before someone finally complies with the order. She stands over Sahara with an arrogant smirk on her face.)

Grace Goeren: You swallowed that like a good little whore, didn’t ya?

MM: Too far. She’s gone too far. Grace Goeren is just…subhuman.

(Crawling around the mat helplessly reaching out in front of her, a strand of bloody mucus hangs from her mouth, as the now former Fallout member crawls toward the ropes.)

MM: This escalation of depravity and violence has gone too damn far. She practically made her swallow a mic…and we all understand the symbolism behind it.

VA: Sounds like Sahara’s lifelong fantasy! Maybe now she knows how Duane and so many others have felt by her own hand.

MM: I’m not the biggest fan of this self-serving woman after the things she’s done, but this is completely unnecessary public humiliation of a human being. Quite frankly, I’m appalled at what we’re witnessing here tonight.

Grace Goeren: Where the fuck is she going?! Playtime ain’t over until the bell rings, bitch. Come here…

(Grabbing Sahara by the ankles, the blonde grasps the bottom ropes out of desperation and lets out a cry for help toward the audience as Grace yanks back hard, ripping her free of the ropes.)

Grace Goeren: Help?!

(Grace let’s out a bellowing laugh as she kneels down beside the battered blonde and grabs a fistful of her hair. Yanking her head back, Grace rolls her onto her back and almost lovingly strokes the blonde’s cheek as she tilts her head, gazing down into her glassy blue eyes.)

Grace Goeren: Do you really think anyone’s gonna help you?! Go ahead and beg you little ring rat. Beg for help. Nobody’s gonna answer the call. And by the way, you’ll receive the same mercy you’ve shown others…

(Standing up, Grace continues staring down at Sahara as the battered blonde helplessly reaches a hand out toward Elizabeth Gaunt, as if groveling for help. Shoving Sahara’s head down with her boot, Grace slams it off the mat and looks up at the monster Lucy Blaylock and the White Angel, Elizabeth Gaunt.)

Grace Goeren: Aww, don’t go gettin’ all soft on me now, girls…you BOTH know this needed to be done. “Ol’ Yeller” here is a rabid bitch that went off the reservation and needed to be put on the shelf. Just know this, and this is the God Queen’s honest truth…had I asked her to take either of you out at any time, she’d have done it without question and without remorse. She’s not like the rest of us…she doesn’t think. She has no moral compass, not like us…she’s not like us good people…

(Standing in silence for a moment, her gaze locks on the White Angel, Elizabeth Gaunt.)

Grace Goeren: Look at her, Lizzie…she was always jealous of you. Always. I know you liked her. Hell, we all did…that’s what makes this so hard.

(Grace pauses a moment and wipes her eyes.)

MM: Oh come on…is she pretending to cry?

VA: The tears of God, Malone…the tears of God. Those are religious relics. She putting one of her beloved angels on the shelf right now…please show some damn respect.

Grace Goeren: Girls, when we came together, I knew this day would come…ya see, outside influences corrupted her. There is a darkness inside her, a plague-filled sickness that eats away at the woman we all loved. This is the only way to cleanse her rotten soul. We are good people. This is humane. We are good people.

(Stopping a moment, Grace slams her boot down on Sahara’s midsection, cutting off her attempt to crawl away again. Taking a step toward Elizabeth, who slowly looks from Sahara to Grace, the God Queen nods at her, giving off a bit of an apologetic sniffle.)

Grace Goeren: I know you were closest with her, Lizzie. And I know this is hard to watch. That’s why I want to give you the honor…

MM: Oh good God, give her the honor?! This woman is deranged. Whatever miniscule sense of decency Grace Goeren ever had has completely evaporated. The coward wants to make Elizabeth Gaunt finish her off!

VA: She’s doing it as a gift to her beloved White Angel…

Grace Goeren: Retire the bitch.

(Gaunt has been frozen in shock for most of this assault, and Grace’s words slither across her mind like slimy worms seeking an aperture. Her turquoise eyes are enormous, a glassy sheen overtaking them as she gazes down at the remnants of Sahara.

Sahara is starting to stir, the crumbling carcass of the Crimson Queen making pitiful mewling sounds in the far back of her damaged throat. She sends her hands up to Gaunt’s legs, using the material of her tights to pull herself slowly up to her knees. Her trembling knuckles try so very hard to gain purchase, a few ragged coughs barking out to leave spittle across her bottom lip.

The White Angel seems almost torn apart to see this, her body tense and rigid. She reaches down, her nimble fingers actually brushing across Sahara’s hair. Her touch is extremely gentle, almost a cooling balm to Sahara’s wounds. The blonde responds to it, gagging out saliva painfully and clinging closer to Gaunt for comfort.

Elizabeth’s head slowly lifts up, and her turquoise eyes find Grace Goeren. Grace offers her an especially vile grin, mouthing the words “Do it.” The conflict in Gaunt’s features starts to dissipate. A dark psychosis awakens inside, her eyes seeming to just BORE into the rotten soul of her God Queen.

Gaunt very slowly leans down and plants a soft kiss on Sahara’s perspiring forehead, and then she unclasps the EWA Network Championship from her waist. Sahara’s lips part, a single imploring word escaping her bleeding mouth.)

“Lizzie?”

(Gaunt responds by lifting the championship belt high above her head and CRUSHING it down into Sahara’s face with all of her might. There’s a hideous CRUNCH sound as Sahara’s nose gushes blood, and the blonde immediately falls back down to the canvas. Elizabeth mounts her, still holding the championship belt, and she begins to just SMASH the title down onto Sahara’s face over and over again.

The most uncomfortable aspect of this savagery is that Elizabeth is not looking at Sahara as she does this. She is staring directly at Grace Goeren with each blow that she delivers. The White Angel’s eyes never leave the God Queen…her teeth gritted, her vocal cords giving voice to a primitive howl, each and every death blow she deals to Sahara punctuated by those psychotic eyes falling oh so heavily onto Grace.

The belt is doing horrifying damage, Sahara’s face puffing up, her lips splitting, a fine spray of blood flying up from the championship to decorate Gaunt’s pallid face, ivory hair, and silver-fanged grill.)

VA: YEAH, LIZZIE!! Take out the trash!! Aren’t crazy chicks hot as hell, Malone??

MM: This is absolutely HARD to watch, and I also sense something very disturbing about how this is playing out. Elizabeth is not looking at Sahara as she executes this feral assault. She’s looking at Grace. She refuses to tear her eyes away from Grace…

VA: …uhh…surely that’s just…devotion, Malone. Yeah. She wants to make Gracie proud of her. That’s all.

MM: You don’t sound too convinced…

(With one final SMASH of the championship into Sahara’s face, Elizabeth Gaunt rises fully to her feet. The beautiful blonde’s features resemble something akin to raw hamburger right now, weak little gasps sending blood bubbles up out of the corner of her mouth.

The White Angel walks over to Grace Goeren, standing mere inches from her. Gaunt isn’t even recognizable, her face a scarlet-bathed mask with bared silver fangs and wild turquoise eyes. She very slowly lifts up the EWA Network Championship, the title dripping with angel blood…and she holds it close to Grace’s face.

Grace’s smile falters for just a moment at the unpredictability of this madwoman, but she quickly regains her composure. Her gaze falls back to the absolutely ruined form…that used to be the Crimson Queen.)

MM: Fans, our superstars know of the dangers and risks involved in competing at this level … this is just…you know what? And I don’t want you to talk right now, Vincent, just sit there and shut up. For months I’ve been wishing this woman would get a taste of her own medicine and tonight she did…but it was taken to a level of depravity that the EWA needs to END. I don’t know…I guess be careful what you wish for. Whatever…

(Malone suddenly removes his headset and drops it on the desk as the stunned crowd watches on, many with the hands clasped over their mouths as the Fallout exit the ring, leaving Sahara lying alone. Grabbing his headset, Malone resituated himself before continuing his rant.)

MM: Ladies and gentlemen, my job is words. Literally. And I truly have none for what we just witnessed.



MM: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, to what has to be the aftermath of one of the most brutal, bloody scen–

VA: Allow me to finish that sentence, Malone. We just saw divine justice doled out on the EWA’s resident whore, and our crew went through great lengths to bring out a hazmat team to disinfect the ring of her diseased blood.

MM: Not quite the words I’d use to describe it, but–

VA: Come on, Malone, she’s a walking STD machine…and we have to look out for the safety of our main event stars.

MM: ASHE! Enough. During our commercial break the EMT’s took Sahara back and that could likely be the last time we see the Crimson Queen on the EWA network for a long while…

VA: So good news then! And in other news, we got a killer main event in store for you tonight…

MM: Nice segue there, Ashe.

VA: Well, you seem hellbent on dwelling on a basement feeder the God Queen deemed unworthy who you claimed to despise all these months, so I figured I’d take the reigns on this one. Up next, ladies and gents, we got a matchup for what now amounts to the second most prestigious title in the EWA, the World Championship, non Combat variety.

MM: Good God.


Main EventRAY WILLMOTT VS GRADY SMITH

EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

The lights go out in the 02 Arena and there is a thunderous roar from the capacity crowd on hand. It’s main event time and they know what’s about to happen.

 

We have lived as one for centuries.
Consolidated. Affiliated.
Unified.
What once began as hostility
Soon turned to peace.
Eventually transformed into power
On these vows
Our kingdom was forged
Unshakeable
Ferocious

GREAT

 

An enormous explosion of fire appears at the top of the ramp and through it rises ‘Red Hot’ Ray Willmott, adorned like a phoenix from the ashes. His arms are spread out like an eagle, his chin raised to the ceiling, and his frame – from head to toe – coated in painted symbolism. There are markings inscribed on him, like Middle English, ancient gaelic, as well as Welsh words and phrases, and English words such as ‘Power’ ‘Authority’ ‘Unity’ and ‘Preservation’.

In one form, he is a depiction of the United Kingdom through all of its ancient traditions, but also through symbolism with a large Celtic Cross on his chest, and the familiar appearance of a dragon consuming him.

In the background, an orchestral version of ‘Moth into Flame’ by Metallica plays. Ray stands at the top of the ramp for a while, arms raised outward and upward, his head not moving, his body still. The crowd are roaring with anticipation and excitement as their hometown hero stands there motionless, taking it all in, moments before the biggest match of his career.

Then, in one swift motion, he squats forward and slams both fists down into the ground, sending the fire surrounding him down either side of the ramp and towards the ring. As it travels and tidal waves, Ray remains motionless again at the top of the ramp, huddled up into a ball shape, awaiting the precise moment to strike.

The fire catches the ring and there’s a loud explosion of flame from all four turnbuckles and the arena is filled with an orangey-hue. Once the noise dies down, the capacity crowd are clearer and louder than ever. The ovation is deafening as Willmott finally stands upright and slithers toward the ring with ferocity and determination in his eyes. A ‘Fucking Awesome’ chant breaks out, matched only with a sincere ‘Welcome Home’

VA: I’ve never seen an entrance like it in all my years. Still gives me chills!

MM: Ray Willmott has this crowd in the palm of his hand, but is it enough to become a two time EWA World Heavyweight Champion?

VA: What’s that? I can’t hear you, I’ve got someone screaming ‘Sweet Chariot’ in my ear!

Ray Willmott clambers the far left turnbuckle, raising his arms in the air, then almost handstands his way into the ring and slithers towards the centre, awaiting his opponent.

MM: As we await Ray’s opponent, Vince, what a card we’ve had so far tonight. Indrid Calder fending off the CEO of the EWA, Alexander Haven…two massive returns to the squared circle from Cronos Diamante and Donovan King, and Chris Kage’s return to the EWA to dismantle the Three Kings kicked off with his victory over Martin…

Mid sentence, the lights in the arena go back out.

MM: … Robertson.

VA: He should come back out and fight again rather than his old man…

As a hush falls over the crowd, still amped up from their hometown hero’s entrance, it starts to sound like we’re outside in the arena, a soft gentle breeze coming through the speaker system. As the sound of the wind begins to pick up, the soft ringing of chimes can be heard breaking through, before a dark, thunderous sound echoes throughout the building. On the jumbotron, a barren desert land appears… dry, desolate, a lone dead tree still standing amongst the scorched, cracked earth. As the brightness of the land in the picture starts to turn dark, clouds rolling into the picture, a piece of tumbleweed rolls across the land, followed by a single piece of tanned parchment paper.

The sound of the wind and the darkness continue to build as the objects flying across the land begin to multiply. A second, then third piece of tumbleweed… a few more pieces of paper flutter amongst the wind. Despite the darkness of the picture, a large shadow now appears in the picture, ever so slowly moving across the landscape until the figure causing the initial shadow appears on the right hand side of the screen. Instantly recognizable.. The long black duster, the black cowboy hat. With his appearance, a very familiar guitar riff now plays in the arena, and the buzz amongst the fans builds. The figure… slow, stoic, continues to move across the screen as the tumbleweeds and the pieces of paper still multiply, until it is no longer tumbleweed, but just the pieces of paper, which have now started to collect at the feet of the figure, even as he moves across the landscape. As he reaches the middle of the image, we hear the first words from the music playing…

 

It’s all the same, only the names will change
Everyday, it seems we’re wastin’ away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I drive all night just to get back home
I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride

 

Just as the previous line from the song finishes, the figure, now at the further edge of the screen with a stack of papers piled up to his ankles, covering the landscape, turns to face forward, almost peering through the image before disappearing as one of the pieces of paper flies in and covers the screen, showing us the words and image that are imprinted on each and every piece, coinciding with the next line of the song:

 

I’m wanted dead or alive

 

In place of the customary fog that normally appears on the entrance ramp are those very same “Wanted” posters from the image, blowing around across the stage as the music blends from one song to the next..

 

See the fields burning…
See the fields burning…
Well I see the fields burning
‘Cause hell is coming through…
I can’t stop…
The Dogs of War…

 

“Dogs of War” by Blues Saraceno continues to play as, now striding through the “Wanted” posters, illuminated red and orange from the lights below the stage, is the World Heavyweight Champion Grady Smith. He stride never breaking, he steps to the edge of the entrance stage, looking out first at the crowd, then towards the ring and Ray Willmott, undoing the single button holding his black duster closed, revealing the World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist. Grady continues his march towards the ring, reaching the ring steps just as Ray, giving respect to the Champion, steps out of the ring on the opposite side to the floor, looking up at Grady.

MM: What an entrance by the champion!

VA: Well, at least he’s got one thing right so far tonight, he’s definitely a wanted man, Malone!

MM: Well, when you hold the top prize in this industry…

VA: … You didn’t let me finish. He’s wanted, just not here. The nursing home has been looking for him the past few days!

MM: Oh good lord…

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

MM: Let’s head back up to the ring one last time tonight… here’s Nikki Rogers with the introductions!

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the main event for the evening, and is for the EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!

NR: Introducing first, he is the challenger. He weighs in tonight at 14.28 stone. He hails from Cardiff, Wales…

Crowd pops

MM: Listen to this crowd!

VA: I’m trying not to.

NR: This is the former EWA World Heavyweight Champion… “RED HOT”… RAY… WILLMOTT!

Ray turns towards the corner he’s standing in, climbing up to the second turnbuckle before slamming his fists down on the top buckle before extending his arms out, looking towards the heavens as the crowd roars…

NR: … and his opponent…

MM: Listen, Vince… I think this might be one of the few times you’re actually going to hear some boos for the man Nikki is about to introduce!

VA: It’s not enough, Malone. These people should boo both of them out of the building!

NR: He weighs in tonight at 18.35 stone. Hailing from Cortland, New York, USA, he is the reigning, defending, undisputed EWA World Heavyweight Champion… GRADY… SMITH!

Grady steps forward from his corner, raising the World Heavyweight Championship belt high in the air as there’s mostly cheers around the arena, but a definite scattering of boos, before Grady hands the belt over to the referee.

MM: The man is a legend in our business and respected all around the world. But Vince, tonight, he is definitely at a home court disadvantage.

VA: Why, because Ray and Laura used their last bit of money to invite all four of their family members to the arena tonight to cheer for them? I openly admit that I hate both of these guys, but it’d be even better to see Grady squash the hopes and dreams of every little boy and girl here that wants Ray to walk out with the title tonight.

MM: Good to know you’re a Grady Smith fan.

VA: Yes… wait, what?

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

MM: And our main event of the evening is underway!

“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”
“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”
“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”

MM: The match has barely started and this crowd is already raucous!

VA: It’s because they spent all day at the pub before this, Malone. You’d be passed out in a sewer drain just praying you saw Jack the Ripper if you ever tried to drink even a quarter of what they’ve drank here tonight!

Both competitors look around at the capacity crowd, both in awe and amazement at the love these fans are showing the two men. Grady and Ray look back at each other as Grady extends a hand out towards the challenger. Ray smiles and shakes the champions hand as the two back away towards the ropes, and with one final stretch, they begin to circle each other before locking in a collar and elbow tie up. Grady, easily the much larger of the two competitors, backs Ray into a corner as the referee walks over, looking for a break. Ray and Grady both put their arms up as Grady backs out of the corner.

Grady and Ray begin to circle again, and another collar and elbow tie up. Grady, once again, pushes Ray towards the ropes, but Ray with a bit of leverage, manages to spin Grady around and now he has him backed into the corner. The referee comes over and, as before, both men raise their arms, and another clean break.

MM: Ray has the speed advantage in this match, which he’s going to need to combat against Grady’s decisive power advantage.

VA: Yay, another clean break. This is like Spy vs. Spy where you can’t tell the two apart and you don’t care who wins… you just want to see someone get blown up.

The two men look out at the crowd one more time, still chanting from the beginning of the match to this point, before a third tie up. This time, however, Ray uses his speed to get around Grady and has him in a waist lock. Grady, though, easily breaks the hands, spins under and now has Ray in a hammerlock. Ray searches for an escape, reaching back and grabbing Grady’s head and flipping over the champion. Grady spins around to face Ray, but is placed in a headlock by the challenger. Grady pushes Ray off, sending him towards the ropes. Ray rebounds, ducking a clothesline attempt from Grady. Off the other side, Grady leapfrogs a charging Ray. Third time off the ropes now for Ray, and Grady attempts a knee to the midsection, but Ray rolls over the knee, pulling Grady down into a roll up pin attempt…

 

 

1…..

 

 

KICKOUT!

MM: What chain wrestling by these two legends!

VA: Nobody wants to see these two actually wrestle. They want to see them beat each other up with their oxygen bottles, fighting for the last scoop of Metamucil!

The crowd roars to approval as Grady is on a knee, looking up at Ray, who is in a fighting stance, looking down at Grady. But rather than attacking, Ray watches Grady spins back and is now back to his feet.

MM: I think this crowd appreciates the technical nature of this match!

VA: They also appreciate when it doesn’t rain once each month. Expectations aren’t very high here.

The two men circle once again and go in for a tie-up, but Grady this time, raises a knee to the midsection of Ray, which gets a small, yet playful, boo from the crowd. Grady drives the point of the elbow onto the back of Ray’s head, sending him down to the mat on his hands and knees. Attempting to keep momentum, Grady quick reaches down with both hands, wrapping his arms around the challenger, and sending him across the ring with an impressive gutwrench suplex. Grady gets back to his feet as he looks down at Ray, who’s sitting up, but holding the lower part of his back.

MM: Grady, showing that power and technical skill that made him a collegiate wrestling champion back at Cortland.

VA: Can you stop pumping this guy up? Geesh, back when he wrestled, the only two other sports were dinosaur dodging and the ‘me throw big rock’ game.

MM: What do you have against Grady?

VA: Besides everything? Not much…

MM: Thanks for narrowing it down.

Ray is back up to his feet as Grady almost seems to be daring Grady to test his strength advantage again. Ray charges at Grady, but Grady pushes him towards the ropes. Ray rebounds quickly, trying to nail Grady with a high running knee. But Grady side steps and is now behind Ray.

MM: Grady’s looking for the Chokebuster early, but Ray floats over, and lands on his feet… enzuigiri by Ray staggers Grady! It’s been a slow-paced match so far, and Ray’s looking to speed that up.. Off the ropes again… this time he hits the knee, nailing Grady in the temple! Grady staggers back towards the ropes… here comes Ray again… CLOTHESLINE OVER THE TOP! And both men are on the floor.

VA: Gosh that little bugger is fast!

MM: He’ll clearly have the speed advantage over the powerhouse Smith. Ray back in the ring quickly… watches Grady…. Waiting…. Waiting…. Now he goes off the ropes… Suicide dive to the outside, taking out the champion! And the fans are on their feet now!

VA: They’re standing because they’re stretching, having finally woken up from that snooze fest of a start…

Ray is the first to his feet and begins to pick Grady up by his head. He goes to throw Grady into ring, but Grady quickly reverses, and instead throws Ray into the ring post! Ray bounces off the ring post towards the guard rail as Grady is still trying to shake off the cobwebs from Ray’s recent onslaught. The champion stalks his prey, grabbing Ray and throwing him into the ring. Grady takes another second to clear his head before climbing up onto the ring apron, but before he gets up, he’s met with a baseball slide from Ray, sending him back into the guardrail.

MM: Ray caught Grady with that slide… now he’s waiting… SPRINGBOARD PLANCHA!

VA: He’s English, you idiot. Not Mexican.

MM: Actually, it’s Welsh. It’s separate from England.

VA: Welsh is a grape juice I used to drink when I was younger.

The audible groan from Malone takes us back over to the action, where Ray kicks Grady in the stomach, then is able to throw him back into the ring. Ray is quickly back up on the apron, poised to strike Grady…

MM: Ray waiting outside… bulldog on Grady! Ray up quickly… ANXIETY AMPLIFIED! That’s that standing shooting star press Ray loves, straight onto the back of Grady! Here’s the first real pin attempt of the match…

 

 

 

1…..

 

 

 

2…….

 

 

 

KICKOUT BY GRADY!

 

Ray, sensing the advantage, doesn’t even bother arguing with the referee. Instead, he instantly picks up Grady, pushing him back into the corner of the ring, and blasting him with a series of three slow, methodical, full force knife edge chops against the barrel chest of Grady. The first two sting the champion, but the third one seems to wake him up a little as, with a twinge of pain in his eyes, he stares down at Ray. But Ray, the opportunist, lands a forearm shot to the temple of Grady. In a blink, Ray is outside and climbing up to the top rope. And before Grady realizes it…

MM: Double knee driver from the top by Ray! Grady looks like he hit hard!

VA: Grady always looks like he hits hard. Gravity and old age have a way of doing that to you!

MM: Cover by Ray!

 

 

 

1…..

 

 

 

2…..

 

 

 

KICKOUT BY GRADY!

 

MM: That one was close!

VA: Ray looks a little flustered after that one.

MM: But Ray’s back to his feet, and this crowd is encouraging him on… he’s calling for The Ultimatum!

VA: He hits this, we might see a new champion.

MM: Grady to his feet, and Ray runs off the ropes… NO! Ray got the facelock, but as he leaped up for the Tornado DDT, Grady picked him up, and dropped him face first on the mat! And now Grady drops the big leg across the back of Ray’s neck!

VA: Easy, brother!

MM: Grady back to his feet now as he pulls Ray up by his head… But Ray breaks out! Right hand by Ray! And a second… OH! And a boot to the midsection stops Ray! Grady off the ropes, and a boot to the side of the head of Ray spins him around… HUGE GERMAN SUPLEX BY GRADY! FULL RELEASE, ALL IMPACT!

VA: Heh… that’s what she said last night after I..

MM: … and this crowd is applauding as Grady is now leaning against the ropes, looking across the ring at Ray. What a series!

VA: Stop interrupting me!

Grady walks back over to Ray, crumpled in the corner, picking him up by the head before simply dumping him through the second and top ropes to the outside of the ring. Still slightly gassed, Grady takes a second to breath before climbing back out of the ring himself. Ray is on his feet, and Grady comes down with a double axehandle, but Ray blocks it with his forearms, before blasting Grady with a right hand! Ray grabs Grady behind the head, throwing him into the barricade surrounding the ring. Ray begins to stomp away at the champion before picking him back up and hitting him with another right hand. Grady staggers backwards, moving up the entrance ramp to avoid the charge of the challenger. But Ray is relentless, continuing to pursue Grady with rights.

MM: This World Heavyweight Title match has started to break down, folks… they’re heading up the ramp!

VA: Ray is doing what he needs to do to beat Grady, but ultimately, he’s got to get him back down to the ring to pin him. This isn’t Falls Count Anywhere!

MM: Very true, but at this point, I don’t think either man is looking for a pin. They’re just looking to soften each other up… OH! As Ray lands another hard right hand to the champion!

Both men are at the top of the ramp, walking out on the stage. Ray swings once again, but Grady ducks the right from Ray, reaching back and dropping Ray down with a hangman’s neckbreaker! Grady is slow to get to his feet, but Ray isn’t staying down much longer, either. Grady clasps the hands behind Ray’s head, holding him down as the champ delivers knee strike after knee strike to the challenger. Grady reaches forward, wrapping his arms around Ray’s body…

MM: What’s Grady thinking here? He’s trying to lift Ray up, but Ray’s blocking it… BIG BACK BODY DROP by Ray!

VA: He might have just about avoiding dying if Grady was able to hit whatever he was trying to set up, either a powerbomb or a piledriver on that stage!

MM: Ray staggers now as he sees Grady get up… spins him… ECHOES IN ETERNITY!

VA: GOOD LORD, DID YOU HEAR THAT IMPACT ON THE STAGE?

MM: Ray just nailed Grady on the stage, but he can’t pin him up there! He’s got to somehow get the larger champion back to the ring!

VA: Look at Ray! He’s trying to drag Grady! He’s dead weight at this point!

MM: I think Ray’s realizing the herculean task in front of him now… but OH MY! Look at this display of power by Ray! He’s got him in a fireman’s carry, trying to bring him back to the ring!

VA: I think…he’s actually drawing strength from this capacity crowd, Malone!

MM: He’s got the champ back to the ring, and rolls him underneath the bottom rope. Grady hasn’t moved, Vince!

VA: He might have broken a hip, Malone. All of them! Someone call Life Alert!

MM: Ray now… with all his might, pulling Grady back to the center of the ring, pulling him to his feet now… ULTIMATUM! RAY JUST HIT ULTIMATUM! WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A NEW WORLD CHAMPION! COVER…

 

 

 

1…….

 

 

 

2……….

 

 

 

THREE! YES!…. NO!

 

VA: WHAT?!?

MM: Grady just barely able to get his foot on the bottom rope just before the three count! I thought for sure Ray had this won!

VA: So did this crowd! And so did poor Ray Ray!

MM: Ray’s staring at the referee in disbelief! And now he’s looking down at Grady, seeing the foot on the rope, trying to figure out just what he has to do to win the World Heavyweight Title a second time here!

Ray stands back up, backing up to a far corner, looking over at Grady, who’s still motionless on the mat. Ray runs his hand across the top of his head before walking back towards Grady, slowly pulling him back up to his feet before pushing him back into the corner. Grady’s still standing, but definitely with the aid of the ropes as Ray backs up to the far corner..

MM: What’s Ray going to do here? He charges… jumping knee in the corner nails Grady!

VA: What impact!

MM: Ray backs up again, charging a second time… NO! Grady sidesteps the charge this time, pushing Ray chest first into the corner…. CHOKEBUSTER! Grady just nailed Ray with a Chokebuster outta nowhere! Grady falls on Ray for a cover..

 

 

 

1…

 

 

 

2….

 

 

 

KICKOUT BY RAY!

MM: Ray Willmott will not be denied here tonight in London, folks!

VA: I know you know a thing or two about being denied, Malone. Gals, guys… they all deny you!

Both men are slowly moving around on the mat as the referee begins his ten count. Grady’s crawling towards the ropes as Ray tries to push himself up onto all fours as the count reaches four. Grady grabs the second rope, pulling himself up. Ray gets his feet underneath him, trying to steady himself as he sees Grady finally get back to his feet, stopping the ref’s count at seven. Grady turns to see Ray, who has his eyes locked on Grady as the crowd tries to encourage each fighter on…

“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”
“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”
“LET’S GO GRA-DY!”
“LET’S GO RAY!”

MM: Listen to these fans in London, Vince!

Both men now look around at the capacity crowd, and with each chant, both the challenger and champion stand a little straighter, get a little more energy. As the crowd reaches a fever pitch, the two men charge at each other, peppering each other with right hands, both impervious to each other’s blows. The crowd erupts as one man begins to start to get the advantage over the other…

“RAY!”
“RAY!”
“RAY!”

MM: Ray Willmott, with this surge of energy from his hometown fans, starts to knock back the champion!

“CHAMP!”
“CHAMP!”
“CHAMP!”

VA: Hold on, Malone! The crowd’s still getting louder, and now it’s Grady who’s starting to send the challenger backwards!

“RAY!”

MM: Ray with a knee! And another right hand, sending Grady all the way back to the ropes!

“CHAMP!”

VA: Grady bounces off the ropes, blasting Ray with a forearm!

“RAY!”

MM: Ray off the ropes now, with that Yakuza-style kick to Grady!

“CHAMP!”

VA: Grady responds with his own kick!

MM: Ray off the ropes now, but Grady ducks this kick, and runs off the ropes himself… OH GOOD LORD! WHAT A COLLISION BY THESE TWO! Both men down with a double clothesline… and listen to this capacity crowd applauding these two fan favorites!

VA: I think they’re applauding because it looks like they’re both ready for their naps!

MM: Would you stop? Look, there’s movement… and an arm draped over…

 

 

 

 

1….

 

 

 

 

2……

 

 

 

 

THR… NO! KICKOUT BY GRADY!

 

MM: Ray rolled just enough to get that arm over Grady’s barrel-sized chest, but the champion is still in his match, folks!

VA: Nurse, get the next drug cocktail to put them back to sleep.

Ray, using Grady as a weight, starts to pull himself closer to the champ, getting back to his knees as he now has an arm around Grady’s neck. He pulls the champ’s head up, before smashing it with a right hand, sending Grady back down to the mat. He pulls Grady’s head back up, then another right, sending him crashing to the mat. Ray now pops up to his feet, reaching down and pulling Grady back up to his feet with him. Forearm smash by Ray sends Grady to the corner. Ray spins Grady around, lifting him up and setting him on the top turnbuckle, facing out to the crowd.

MM: What does Ray have in store here?

VA: You’re asking me like I’m in Ray’s head…

MM: Ray with a forearm to the back of Grady.. And now Ray’s climbing the turnbuckle behind Grady… OH! Back elbow by Grady! And another… and a third, and Ray’s back on his feet in the ring…

VA: DEAR GRACE!

MM: Ray just pulled Grady’s head back, slamming it into the bottom turnbuckle! And now he’s got him in the Tree of Woe, stomping away at Grady’s midsection!

VA: Grady’s going to have a headache after that blow!

MM: Ray backs up to the far corner… here comes the Welsh Warrior… OH! NO!

VA: HOW?!?

MM: Ray went to spear Grady in the corner, but the core strength of Grady, pulling himself back up to a seated position on the top turnbuckle, and Ray hit all middle turnbuckle!

VA: Ray might have busted his spleen there, Malone! Ray’s hurt!

MM: Yeah, but the damage that Ray’s done to Grady, Vince, he’s not moving too quick, either… although he’s starting to stir.. He’s trying to stand up on the turnbuckle…. Grady… GRADY….

VA: HOW IN THE…

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”
“HO-LY SHIT!”
“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

MM: GRADY SMITH, STANDING ON THE TOP TURNBUCKLE, TRANSITIONED FROM A MOONSAULT INTO HIS DEAD WRONG FINISHING MANEUVER!

VA: He’s 43 years old, Malone! Old men aren’t supposed to fly like that! They’re supposed to yell at clouds and pigeons!

MM: Grady grabs Ray’s right leg… COVER….

 

 

 

 

1…

 

 

 

 

2……

 

 

 

 

THRE… NO! GOOD LORD, A KICKOUT BY RAY WILLMOTT!

VA: This crowd just erupted with that kickout, Malone!

Grady, upon realizing that he has not won the match, exhausted, collapses backwards…

MM: Ladies and gentlemen, by the slimmest of margins that I’ve ever seen in this business, Ray Willmott is still in this match, folks!

VA: Maybe it is his time, Malone!

MM: Folks, take a look at this replay. First, look at the rotation of the champ, having the presence to reach out and grab Ray by the head, essentially using him as a pivot to whip himself around and pull his legs under for that sitout shiranui. But watch Ray and the impact of his head on the mat! And still, somehow, have the wherewithal to kick out before the three count! Could it be, Vince? Could… it… be… Ray Willmott’s time to become the EWA World Heavyweight Champion for a second time?

VA: At this point, Malone, it’s anybody’s match!

Grady, having recovered just slightly faster than Ray, is up, holding onto the top rope as he bends down and grabs Ray by the head, pulling him up. But Ray collapses back into the corner, and Grady, at this moment, can do nothing else but just look at him, wondering what it’s going to take to put away the great Welsh Warrior. Ray, unrelenting, looks over towards the World Champion, gesturing to him to keep bringing it. Grady, like a bolt of lightning, rushes at Ray, nailing him with two, three, four, five forearms to the temple, causing Ray to slump down, almost sitting on the second turnbuckle. Grady backs up a few steps, looking at his challenger, who can’t even lift his head at this point.

MM: Look at the fight in Willmott! He’s still telling Grady to come get him!

VA: What, does he have a death wish? He can barely keep his head up!

MM: RUNNING KNEE BY GRADY! HE JUST SMASHED RAY’S HEAD BETWEEN HIS KNEE AND THE TOP TURNBUCKLE! GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY WHAT AN IMPACT!

VA: Ray may think he’s back in the time of Braveheart after that! Sweet Grace!

MM: But is Grady making a mistake here? He’s stepped back again, looking at Ray, rather than continuing to keep on him… But listen to this crowd as Ray, barely standing, still holding onto the top rope with just the fingertips on his left hand… He’s still calling for Grady!

VA: INCONCEIVABLE!

MM: I didn’t think you even knew what that word meant, Vince!

VA: I don’t!

MM: Ray, beaten, battered, bruised… will just not give up this fight! But here comes Grady… RUNNING KNEE AGAIN! This time Ray’s head smashing against the second turnbuckle! And now Grady, with almost a renewed energy, pulls Ray back to a standing position in the corner… and Ray’s out, folks! There’s no way he can continue, can he? Grady’s holding his head by the ears, just looking at his friend Ray…

VA: The lights might be on, Malone, but I don’t think anyone is home!

Ray, with an empty, blank stare back at Grady, simply nods his head once towards the champ. Grady, looking back at Ray, closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before nodding back…

MM: Grady… what’s he doing? He spins Ray around… and now he has Ray up on the top turnbuckle… Good lord… No, Grady… NO!

VA: DEAR BABY GRACE!

MM: GRADY SMITH, STANDING ON THE SECOND TURNBUCKLE… CHOKEBUSTER FROM THE TOP ROPE!

VA: WHAT POWER!

MM: COVER…

 

 

 

 

1….

 

 

 

 

2………

 

 

 

 

3!!!!!

 

 

NR: The winner of the match… and STILL, EWA World Heavyweight Champion… GRADY SMITH!

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: GRADY SMITH (21:23)
GRADY SMITH RETAINS THE EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP

The announcers remain silent as the crowd erupts with the finish of the match, just letting the imagery speak for itself. Grady, still on his knees, next to the motionless body of Ray, looks down at the body of his fallen opponent. Spent of energy, unable to move himself. The referee walks over with the World Heavyweight Championship belt, handing it to Grady, but he simply lays it on the mat next to him, a secondary thought to the match that he just had with his longtime rival… his longtime friend, Ray Willmott. As Grady continues to look down at the Welsh Warrior, we can see Grady saying something, but the deafening sound in the arena makes it completely inaudible.

MM: Two of the greatest to ever step foot into a wrestling ring, Ray Willmott and Grady Smith, put on an instant classic here, folks! What an unbelievable matchup!

VA: Somebody better record this, because I don’t do it very often. But personal feelings aside, this was an incredible matchup, Malone. These two left everything they had in that ring tonight.

MM: That’s very professional of you, Vince.

VA: Like I said, don’t get used to it.

MM: But I completely agree with you, though. Just look at these two competitors in the ring, and you can tell that, despite their friendship, they gave each other everything they had. I mean, that moonsault into Dead Wrong… I’ve NEVER seen Grady do that… NEVER! Nor would I ever think of him doing that!

VA: Or Ray, hitting Echoes In Eternity on the stage, then carrying a lifeless Grady back to the ring and hitting Ultimatum!

Grady now reaches over, grabbing the World Heavyweight Title, standing up. But the exhausted champion stumbles back against the corner turnbuckle as the referee continues to check in on Willmott, who’s just starting to move around on the mat, attempting to get to his feet. Clearly a bit woozy, he stumbles into the ropes as the ref helps straighten him up. Grady, seeing Ray stumble, drops the belt in the corner to go over and help Ray as well.

MM: Look at these two. This is a huge sign of respect here by Grady.

VA: Don’t be so sure… he might be just luring him into sucker punch him or something.

MM: Do you really believe that?

VA: Hey, a guy can dream, right?

Grady lets go of Ray as Willmott finally has his legs under him now, as they raise each other’s hand to the applause of the capacity crowd. Ray, noticing that Grady doesn’t have the belt in his other hand, walks over to the corner where Grady previously dropped the belt. Ray looks down at it for a few moments, wiping his eye with the palm of his right hand as he slowly steps towards Grady. He looks up at the champ, says a few words that we don’t pick up, then hands the title over to Grady, raising his hand one more time before tapping the belt, then rolling gingerly out of the ring.

MM: What a display of sportsmanship here by Ray. He wasn’t able to pull off the dream of winning the World Heavyweight Title here tonight in London, but he has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in his performance.

VA: You’re right. I think Laura’s ashamed of his performance enough for him, and not just tonight’s performance either!

MM: Vince! How dare you?

VA: You see where I’m going with that?

MM: Yes, we all get it, Vince.

As Ray reaches the top of the entrance ramp, he turns around one last time to look out at the capacity crowd, who are all standing and cheering for him…

“THANK YOU RAY!”
“THANK YOU RAY!”
“THANK YOU RAY!”

Ray, nearly in tears, applauds back towards the crowd, waving to a few sele….

 

HAIL TO THE KING
HAIL TO THE ONE
KNEEL TO THE CROWN
STAND IN THE SUN
HAIL TO THE KING!

 

MM: WHAT IN THE HELL?

“Hail to the King” continues to play over the loudspeaker as Ray turns towards the curtain to see…

MM: WHAT ARE THE THREE KINGS DOING OUT HERE?!?

VA: YES! They’ve come to spare our lives from this trainwreck of an ending!

First through the curtain is Alexander Haven, still dressed in his wrestling gear from his match earlier tonight where he lost against Indrid Calder, but now also sporting a black “Three Kings” t-shirt that’s soaked, clinging to his physique. Behind him side by side is his wife, Alyssa Marie Haven, and Martin Robertson, who also lost earlier tonight to Chris Kage. Marty is still in his wrestling gear as well, but is wearing a Martin Robertson-themed Three Kings t-shirt instead. Alex, microphone in hand, stops right next to Ray, who’s clutching the back of his neck as he looks at the leader of the Three Kings perplexed.

Ray Willmott: What the hell is this?

Alexander Haven: Congratulations, loser. We gave you essentially a home crowd match, and you couldn’t even get the job done. Hit the showers!

With the blood flowing a little more, Ray starts to stand up a little straighter, looking dead in the eye of Alex. However, as he sees Robertson move right along side Alex, Ray breaks eye contact to look at the second generation wrestler. Alex smiles at the Welshmen, who doesn’t take too kindly to the smile, and is now nose to nose with the CEO! The fans begin to erupt but before anything can happen, Martin weasels his way in between the two, and now he’s nose to nose with the former World Heavyweight Champion!

Martin Robertson: (off mic) C’mon… hit me Ray!

Ray Willmott: Your father clearly didn’t smack you hard enough, boy, but I’ll gladly do it for him!

Martin Robertson: Well, c’mon, tough guy! You couldn’t beat Grady… what makes you think you can beat us?

Ray tries to look past Martin towards Alex, but every step, Martin blocks Ray’s view. Ray tries a swim move to get around Martin, but Martin pushes him back. Ray raises a fist back, which causes Martin to flinch very slightly. And now Alex steps to the side of Martin, and they’re both looking at Ray, who still has the clenched fist back. His eyes dart back and forth between the two men before he lowers his fist down.

Ray Willmott: Not today…. Not today.

Ray walks around the group and starts to head through the curtain. The crowd boos… not so much at Ray but at not getting to see Ray and some version of the Three Kings go at it. Meanwhile, in the ring, Grady sets the World Heavyweight Championship on his right shoulder as he steps towards the set of ropes closest to the entrance ramp, looking up at the group, who has now turned their attention towards the ring.

Alexander Haven: Well, well, well. Grady fucking Smith. I’ve got to give you credit, old man. You have managed to handle everything that’s been thrown at you over the past couple of months, and you’ve proved to the world that you still have what it takes to be the man in this business. For that, I respect you.

MM: What are they doing out here?

VA: Shhh… nobody speaks while the Kings are speaking!

Alex, Martin and Alyssa slowly start to walk down towards the ring.

Alexander Haven: The problem with this whole situation, Grady, and I’m sure you can put the pieces together, but for the rest of these ignorant blokes here in Jolly Ol’ England, I’ll lay it out clear as crystal. The problem with you being on top, Grady, is that it means that the crown jewel of this sport… that title you so proudly hold over your shoulder… is not where it belongs, and that’s with the Three Kings!

MM: What makes them think they deserve the title?

The crowd begins to boo as the group has reached the bottom of the entrance ramp. Grady has retreated to the far side of the ropes as Alex rolls in the ring. Alyssa climbs up the steps and enters the ring as Marty has gone around the side, hopping up onto the ring apron before climbing in, the group reforming back together.

Alexander Haven: So I’m going to do this, and I’m only going to do this once out of the respect I have for you. That belt, on your shoulder, is coming home with the Three Kings… tonight!

MM: WHAT?!?

Alexander Haven: So I’m giving you one chance. Right here, right now, vacate the title, and hand it over to the Three Kings!

MM: NO WAY!

VA: Yes, Malone! It is the right of the king to seize any and all property within his kingdom, and they’ve come to seize the World Heavyweight Title!

Grady continues to stare at Alex, baffled that he would even suggest such a thing to Grady. Reaching through the ropes, a ring attendant hands Grady his own microphone.

Grady Smith: Really? That’s your plan? That I’m just…. Going to hand this belt over?

Martin snatches the microphone from Alex.

Martin Robertson: That’s right, old man! Give us the belt now!

Grady rolls his eyes…

Grady Smith: Please, junior. Get back behind Alex… the men are talking right now.

Martin rears back as if he’s about to hit Grady, but Alex extends his right arm in front of Martin, stopping him. Alex then reaches with his right hand, taking the microphone back from Martin.

Alexander Haven: See, Martin’s way was that we just come out here, beat the crap out of you, and forcibly take it, and sort it all out later. I, on the other hand, out of compassion and respect…

MM: Compassion and respect my ass!

VA: Malone! Such language…

Alexander Haven: … wanted to at least give you a chance at a peaceful transition of power. But your refusal leaves me with no choice. Danny Smith, get your ass out here now!

MM: What? Why’s he calling for a referee?

In a matter of seconds, senior referee Danny Smith is back out to the ring, standing off to the side between the Three Kings and Grady Smith.

Alexander Haven: Grady Smith, as the CEO of the EWA, I have the right to make any match that I choose at any time. And because you will not voluntarily hand over the World Heavyweight Championship, you leave me with no choice to but make one additional match for you… TONIGHT!

MM: What?!? He can’t do that!

VA: Oh, he most certainly can! And I think he just did!

Alexander Haven: Grady Smith, you will be defending that World Heavyweight Championship in a match, right now…

MM: No….

At this point, the fans in the arena are starting to get excited at the prospect of seeing one more match. They’ve all risen to their feet as Grady looks down, shakes his head, before handing the World Heavyweight Title to referee Danny Smith, who places it in the corner of the ring.

Alexander Haven: … Against a man who has demonstrated an ability like no other in this business…

The anticipation continues to build as Grady now drops the microphone down outside the ring. Alyssa stands next to Alex smiling, as does Martin, who is rubbing his hands together.

Alexander Haven: … against a man who has previously beaten you here in the EWA recently…

VA: NO WAY! COULD IT BE?!?

With the volume in the arena building, Alex has to now start screaming into the microphone just to get heard. Meanwhile, Martin is now bouncing back and forth, removing the t-shirt from his body. Alex looks around for a second, before turning back towards Grady…

 

Alexander Haven: ME!

MM: WHAT?!?

Martin stops bouncing, turning towards Alex, mouthing the same “what?” that we just heard from Malone, as Alex pelts Grady across the top of his head with the microphone! Alyssa scrambles to get out of the ring as Danny Smith calls for the bell to be rung. Martin drops and rolls out of the ring, still looking up at Alex confused!


ALEXANDER HAVEN VS GRADY SMITH

EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

MM: Ladies and gentlemen, we have an impromptu World Heavyweight Title match between Alexander Haven and Grady Smith!

VA: This is awesome, Malone! The belt is coming home tonight!

MM: I have never seen such an abuse of power like this one!

VA: When you’re the king, you make up your own rules!

Haven tosses the microphone out of the ring as Grady staggers around, holding his forehead. Haven has taken off his t-shirt as he stands poised in the middle of the ring.

MM: After such an incredible World Heavyweight title match between Ray Willmott and Grady Smith, two of the legends in this sport, this is how it’s going to end?!?

VA: Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy!

MM: And look at Haven, he’s had this planned all along! Smug as he’s standing there, waiting for Grady. He has him up… FALL FROM GLO…. NO!

VA: NO!

MM: GRADY FLOATS OVER… SMALL PACKAGE…

 

 

 

 

 

1……

 

 

 

 

 

2……

 

 

 

 

 

3!!!!!

 

 

VA: WHAT?!?

NR: The winner of this match, and STILL… EWA WORLD HEA…

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: GRADY SMITH (0:08)
GRADY SMITH RETAINS THE EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP

MM: What’s Martin doing?!?

Martin Robertson: NO!

Martin rolls back into the ring, microphone in hand, as Grady quickly heads towards the corner where Danny Smith laid the belt down earlier. Alex is barely getting back to his feet as Martin comes to stand next to him.

Martin Robertson: This wasn’t the plan, Alex!

MM: Damn right it wasn’t! I don’t think they expected to be outsmarted by Grady Smith!

Alex looks at Martin confused as Martin takes a few steps away from Haven and is now somewhat centrally located between Alex and Grady. Alyssa is yelling out from the ringside area towards Martin, wondering what the hell he’s doing as Martin turns towards Grady…

Martin Robertson: The plan wasn’t supposed to be just a regular match between you and Alex, Grady…

Alex continues to look at Martin, asking him just what he is doing. Martin looks at Alex…

 

 

 

 

 

VA: PURE PERFECTION!

MM: OH MY GOD!

Martin Robertson: The match was supposed to be a no disqualification match between Grady Smith and Alexander Haven! NOW RING THE BELL!

MM: WHAT?

The superkick we all witnessed nailed Grady Smith right on the chin, sending him bouncing back into the corner, held up by only the ropes. The initial look of confusion that was on Alex’s face has now turned to a pleasant smile, and further into a maniacal laugh. Martin’s facial expression, though, has remained void of emotion, as he tosses the microphone out of the ring. Alex turns to Danny Smith, screaming at him to ring the bell again. Danny attempts to say no, but when Martin also gets in his face, Danny reluctantly rings the bell again.


ALEXANDER HAVEN VS GRADY SMITH

EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH - NO DISQUALIFICATION

MM: THIS IS DESPICABLE!

VA: No, Malone. Get the chant right… THIS IS AWE-SOME!

Grady, stunned but still standing in the corner, brings his fists up in front of him, but as Martin turns back around to look at his father, he winds up and lands a second superkick in the corner on Grady.

VA: PURE PERFECTION NUMBER TWO!

Still not going down, Martin leans in, grabs Grady by the back of the head, and throws him towards Alex…

MM: I can’t believe what I’m witnessing here! This is just deplorable!

VA: Oh, shut it Malone! This is great as Alex… FALL FROM GLORY!

MM: It truly is a fall from glory… for our entire sport here! It’s all academic at this point…

 

 

 

 

 

 

1……

 

 

 

 

 

 

2……

 

 

 

 

 

 

3!!!

 

 

MM: I’m going to be sick!

NR: The winner of this match…. AAAAAAAAND NEW… EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…. ALEXANDER HAVEN!

VA: YES! THE CROWN JEWEL HAS RETURNED HOME!

Referee Danny Smith hands the title to Alex, who snatches it away from Danny as quickly as he can. Martin smiles at Alex as Alyssa rejoins the group in the ring. Alex, standing over Grady, looks down at him for a moment before raising the title high in the air with his right hand.

MM: We all knew that Alexander Haven had been jealous of the success around the World Heavyweight Championship other people have had. Well, ladies and gentlemen, Alex just stole himself a title tonight!

VA: No, Malone. He won that title fair and square in a grueling, hard fought contest tonight.

MM: Grueling? He only won because Martin Robertson hit his father with two Pure Perfections in the corner!

VA: I believe the official record will show that Haven obtained the pinfall after hitting HIS finisher, the Fall From Glory!

MM: Be that as it may, Alexander Haven and the Three Kings are leaving London tonight with the World Heavyweight Championship belt, and listen to this crowd!

VA: They’re all backwards anyways!

MM: Ladies and gentlemen, for Terry, Alison, Nikki, Vince and the rest of the EWA, I’m Mike Malone, and Alexander Haven is your new World Heavyweight Champion… Goodnight everyone!

VA: HAIL TO THE KING!

The EWA logos appear on the screen as the last image is that of Alex, still standing over a motionless Grady Smith, holding the World Heavyweight Championship belt in the air, with Alyssa on his right side, and Martin on his left, who takes one small glance towards the title belt before looking back out at the crowd as the screen fades to black.

YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: ALEXANDER HAVEN (0:47)
ALEXANDER HAVEN IS YOUR NEW EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION


© 1998-2017
EWA Wrestling – a Division of EWA Entertainment
This event may not be rebroadcast without the expressed written consent of EWA Entertainment.
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MATCH CREDITS:
Jacob Mephisto vs NOTHING – Tim Reeves
Alexander Haven vs Indrid Calder – Gates
Joe Lemon vs Ethan Leers – Tim Reeves
Nikki Caldwell vs Rachel Ellsworth – Joyce McGuire
Sean Boden vs Grace Goeren – Sean Boden
Laura Seton & Dube vs The Vice Squad – Sean Boden
Elizabeth Gaunt vs Dan Stein – Jeremy Megargee
Chris Kage vs Martin Robertson – Chris Furman
Tanya Black vs Hank – David Horadan
Tag Team Gauntlet – Andy Crow, Chris Furman, Joyce McGuire
Maggie McIntyre vs Michael Draven – Gates, Joyce McGuire
Lunatikk Crippler vs Tyler Morris – Will Santa
Natalie Burrows vs Sahara – Harlan Heubaum
Grady Smith vs Ray Willmott – Chris Furman
Alexander Haven vs Grady Smith – Chris Furman
Alexander Haven vs Grady Smith – Chris Furman