Back to Top


Explosions suddenly rock the arena and we’re live inside The American Airlines Arena, the not quite sold out crowd cheering loudly as Afterburn kicks off its second ever event here in the OSW. “Dying Breed” by Five Finger Death Punch plays in the background as the fans roar almost drowns out the sound. The camera spins to ringside where Rick Walker and Richard Roman sit, both full of smiles and eager to kick off the show.

Rick Walker: “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Afterburn. You know that after last week, we’re all keeping a vigilant eye on the dark corners of this arena tonight.”

Richard Roman: “None of us want to run into The Scarecrow.”

Rick Walker: “But that’s not exactly going to be easy for at least one member of the roster tonight as Matthew Cories goes one on one with the thing that attacked him last week.”

Richard Roman: “There’s also the continuation of the World Championship Tournament and as second chance saloon for many of the competitors last week when the United States Championship is decided inside a Battle Royal.”

Just then, the twang of Good Ride Cowboy hits as Colt Jackson steps out in front of the crowd, complete with cowboy hat and a dip of skoal in his bottom lip.

Richard Roman: “Who the hell is this?”

Rick Walker: “This is Colt Jackson, a new signing that isn’t actually scheduled to be here tonight.”

Colt walks straight to the ring, holding his right hand in the air while giving the longhorn salute. He rolls under the bottom rope and with a big toothy grin, asks for a microphone that he hastily receives.

“Thank ya for the warm welcome. My name is Colt Jackson, or Colt 45 if you’re feelin’ fancy and I ain’t even scheduled to be here tonight,” he says with a shake of the head, clearly upset by that fact. “But none the less, I’ve come out here to talk to you about the United States of America!”

A cheap pop and a “USA! USA! USA!” follow.

“Tonight there’s a Battle Royal for the United States Championship an’ I ain’t been invited to intend. I don’t see how that makes any sense seein’ as I’m the quintessential American. I’m from the great state of Texas, a state I love so much I gave a forearm for it,” he references his tattoo by raising it to the camera and then continues. “So who better to step into the ring tonight and become your representative; your United States Champion!”

The harsh, industrial sounds of Techno Animal’s “Cruise Mode 101″ crush the airwaves and interrupt as the house lights turn to a stramash of sporadic strobes. It doesn’t take long for Isaiah Black to emerge from the back, a hood pulled over his head and a microphone in his hand.

Rick Walker: “This appears to be a night for unscheduled appearances Rich, because that’s Isaiah Black and he’s not scheduled to be here either.”

Richard Roman: “So we’re dealing with a pair of gatecrashers? That’s perfect.”

He stops at the top of the ramp, bows his head, and throws his arms in the air. Fire bursts from two small, handheld flame-throwers for as long as “The Grim” can handle the scorching heat, before he drops them and stomps towards the ring. Inside, he heads threw the ropes and steps immediately to Colt.

“Get out of my ring!” says ‘The Grim’ receiving an extremely loud chorus of boo’s from the audience.“What? You think I give a damn about America, or some fool trying to win himself a Championship? Nah, you people had better listen up and listen up good.”

Colt folds his arms and it’s apparent he’s not impressed. Isaiah though doesn’t care a single dot and continues.

“If you’re gonna stand in this ring with me, you had better understand somethin’ Colt. I don’t give a shit about winning the United States Championship tonight, or the fact that someone decided not to put me in the match. But you know what? I’m going to enter myself, just like you. Do you know why? It’s because none of you fucks deserve it. You’re all weak, entitled, pathetic, attached to a life of glory you neither have or deserve. I know only one thing to be certain one thing in this world you’re entitled to and that’sDEATH. I’ll teach ya, I’ll teach ya when I’m comin’ for your throat!”

Suddenly he lunges at Colt, attacking him with brutal fists that send him sprawling back into the ropes. The viciousness of the attack is not only a surprise to Jackson but to the fans, who watch as Isaiah pummels away at him. He slides to the outside and grabs a lead pipe from underneath the ring, entering under the bottom rope.

Rick Walker: “Someone needs to stop this before this psychopath ends his career.”

Richard Roman: “I don’t think anyone can.”

Isaiah bends down and picks up his microphone, kneeling over a very dizzy Jackson.

“You see this Colt?” he asks showing him the metal pipe. “I could end you right now with this. You’re looking into the eyes of the end and I know you’re petrified, I know you’re terrified. I could put you out of your misery, but I won’t,” Isaiah surprises us all and says whilst dropping the pipe. “Not yet anyway.”

Isaiah stands up as Techno Animal’s “Cruise Mode 101″ blares again, the fans booing him as he heads to the backstage, uninterested in what they have to say.

Rick Walker: “That guy is scary. There’s something not right inside his head.”

Richard Roman: “Or is everything right? He said it himself, didn’t he? No-one is entitled to anything but death in this life and everything else is earned. Colt wanted to talk about the American Dream – well Isaiah has a reality check for him; it doesn’t exist.”

The sound of “To Them These Streets Belong” by Rise Against follows Ed Famous inside the squared circle where Hayden Hardkore is patiently waiting. At the sound of the bell, there is no hesitation from Hardkore as he sprints across the ring and lands a Yakuza Kick to the face of Famous who immediately drops to the mat. A quick cover. ONE … TWO … and Hayden Hardkore comes split seconds away from an extremely fast pinfall. Famous is pulled to his feet and Hayden hits the ropes. FROM NOWHERE Ed Famous catches Hardkore with a superkick that brings the American Airlines Arena crowd into a frenzy.

Famous chooses to not go for the pin, but instead brings Hardkore to his feet long enough to deliver a strong snap suplex that makes Hayden growl in pain. He makes the cover. ONE … and that is all he gets. Wait a second! That’s Zeek Williams! Zeek Williams is on his way to ringside. What is going on here? Both men back to their feet with Famous still in control. An inverted atomic drop and Hardkore is in pain, but remains on his feet. Famous follows it up with a REVERSE DDT and now he’ll go for the cover. ONE … TWO … THAT was close! Hardkore gets a shoulder up just in time.

Zeek Williams is standing at ringside and now Famous has spotted him. His attention is grabbed. Long enough for Hayden Hardkore to clear the cobwebs and preform a schoolboy. ONE … TWO … Famous kicks out and both men are up. HURRICANRANA from Hardkore brings Famous right back to the canvas. Hayden onto his feet and to the ropes. SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT and the cover. ONE … TWO … and Hayden Hardkore nearly comes away with another victory. Hardkore will try again. Famous brought to his feet. KNEE lift from Famous. AND another. And DOUBLE ARM DDT! It’s the INFamous! The INFamous! Famous makes the cover … ONE …

WAIT! Zeek Williams is up on the apron. The referee has abandoned the count and heads to the ropes. Famous is looking around. He doesn’t know why the official stopped counting. NOW he sees. Famous to his feet and he confronts Williams. Williams and Famous having words. And look out! There’s Hayden Hardkore! From behind with the rollup! ONE … TWO … THREE! Hayden Hardkore takes this match in the closing moments with an assist from Zeek Williams. Ed Famous is NOT happy!

Ed Famous is understandably furious after being cost the match but doesn’t have even a moment to react as Zeek slides into the ring and starts stomping a mudhole in him. Williams beats him down in the middle of the ring, stomp after stomp, brutalizing him before pulling him to his feet and leaping onto the middle rope- THE SILENCER!! THRUSTING KNEE TO THE FACE!!

Rick Walker: “These two are tearing each other apart?”

Richard Roman: “Good! After last week, Zeek is getting a little revenge.”

Williams though isn’t done and reaches down, pulling the scarf off of Ed Famous’ face, leaving him without his anonymity. Thankfully he’s laid out face first on the canvas but that doesn’t stop the fans from voicing their opinion.


Rick Walker: “I can’t believe he did that. He just risked revealing Ed’s face to the entire world and if we know one thing, it’s that he wants to keep his face out of the public eye.”

Richard Roman: “Then I would suggest better picking his battles because right now, he’s this close from being outed!”

Hayden Hardkore is extremely tired after his match tonight and heads to the backstage area, grabbing a bottle of water and rehydrating. As he arrives back there, Professor Bordeaux is stood waiting, clapping sarcastically.

“Congratulations, you must be extremely proud of yourself,” he continues with sarcasm. “You ignorant buffoon, desecrating your face with those markings and winning matches thanks to the interference of others.”

Hayden seems a little taken back. “Have you ever heard of the phrase; ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’? Well if you think for one second I’m an ignorant buffoon, or some kind of idiot, just because I wear this proudly, then mate, you’re the only ignoramus around here.”

Rick Walker: “That’s uncalled for.”

Richard Roman: “Well look at him, he’s an idiot prancing around here with those tribal markings all over his face.”

The Professor shakes his head with disdain.

“I see you dispute your features but not your victory,” Bordeaux muses, purposely. “It becomes apparent what matters more to you.”

The Flying Kiwi steps closer.

“What do you want me to say? Ed Famous was going to get beaten tonight whether or not Zeek Williams played a part in it. Am I proud of it? Not entirely but I sure as hell didn’t stand around and do nothing out there,” he says before barging past Bordeaux and beginning to walk off down the corridor. As he does, he shouts backwards. “Maybe you should worry about your own match.”

Rick Walker: “Professor Bordeaux faces off against Desmond Cross tonight – so perhaps Hayden is right and his focus would be better spent elsewhere.”

Richard Roman: “Don’t worry about Bordeaux, he’s fully capable of beating Cross.”

Bordeaux chuckles to himself, thinking he’s got Hayden’s number before walking off in the opposite direction.

This tag team match starts off with Waldo The Clown shoeing Rick Mad to their corner and reluctantly Rick goes to his corner. Brent Kersh is starting things off for his team. The Clown honks his nose and lets out a psychotic laugh as that seemed to take Brent Kersh off his game enough to poke his eye and then land a couple of rights to The Enforcer. Waldo irish whips Kersh but Kersh reverses it and catches The Clown with a running clothesline that sends the fans in a frenzy, seeing the Clown knocked on his wallet.

The Enforcer tags in his partner, 911, who comes into the ring, guns ablaze, striking The Clown with lefts and rights, landing an Enziguri which causes The Clown to stumble to his corner as Rick Mad tags himself in. This didn’t sit too well with Waldo but he goes to his corner. Mad runs at 911 but gets caught across the face by a spinning heel kick! Cover … One! Two! KICKOUT! Mad looks out of it. As Mad uses the aid of the ring ropes, 911 goes after Rick Mad but gets caught by surprise by a right hand that sends The White Ranger down to the mat.

It looks like Rick Mad is set to grab ahold of 911’s legs, looking to lock in the Sharpshooter. Waldo is extending his hand, wanting a tag in the worst of ways, Mad turns his attention to Waldo as Kersh enters the ring and grabs Rick Mad … SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT! The Enforcer knocks Waldo off the ring apron as 911 is up and hits the Hoax Call! 911 covers … One! Two! THREE! What a solid showing from two impressive individuals here tonight as they attempt to ascend the OSW ladder and make a name for themselves here tonight.

We’re backstage following DTR who is a man on a mission after last week’s assault left him with stitches. He barges into the locker room of Marvellous Master Chef, determined to get back the World Heavyweight Championship.

“Where the hell are you Chef?” he screams as he frantically searches the room for the belt. There’s food strewn everywhere, making it the most unhygienic place in the building. “My God this is disgusting.”

Rick Walker: “That’s like going through a garbage site. How could Dave search through that?”

Richard Roman: “He’s hoping he’s going to catch a whiff of that title but the only thing he’s likely to catch is hepatitis – if he hasn’t already.”

He can’t find it and with a sigh of frustration, turns around, heading for the door. Just then a knife comes whipping past his face with some velocity, barely missing him and piercing a note on a board behind him. DTR can’t believe it, turning to see the weapon and the note. He pulls the knife out angrily and takes a look.

Rick Walker: “Holy crap, that was close. Did you see that? That knife barely missed him.”

Richard Roman: “I think up until now people have thought of MMC as some kind of joke. He could of killed him, Ricky, it’s a matter of fact. There’s no joke in that.”

“I could make a good meal with Rattlesnake,” Dave reads aloud with a grimace across his face. “That son of a bitch! Where the hell are you? Huh? Up there?”

Dave storms towards the halls of the corridor but can’t find him. Wherever the Master Chef was hiding, he’s clearly gone now and left The Rattlesnake more than a little rattled.

The match begins quickly and viciously with John Pathlow combining his ring entrance with a football tackle that sweeps Mike Lane completely off his feet. A series of fists follow with Pathlow mounted securely on top of the dazed Lane. The bell rings, indicating a very impressive start for Pathlow considering the size advantage he is giving up in the match. An advantage that becomes apparent when Pathlow brings Lane to his feet and sends him to the ropes only to be reversed into a short arm lariat.

Pathlow is down, but Lane is reeling. Both men steadying themselves to their feet. Lane is the first to attack and it’s a snap suplex that puts Pathlow on his back. A cover. ONE … TWO … Pathlow is out in just the knick of time. Lane is quick to his feet and straight to the ropes. DIVING elbow to the face of Pathlow and another cover, BUT PATHLOW REVERSES INTO A KIMURA LOCK! What a great move from Pathlow and out of nowhere. Lane is in serious trouble here, but destiny is on his side as both men were close enough to the ropes for Lane to break the hold.

Lane is shaken and Pathlow smells blood. He’s quick to his feet, yet still woozy. Pathlow to the ropes and back, SWINGING neckbreaker and Lane goes down again. There’s a cover. ONE … TWO … ANOTHER near pinfall and Pathlow wastes no time in delivering another series of fists to the skull of his opponent. Lane brought to his feet and Pathlow applies a side headlock. INTO a running bulldog and Pathlow goes for another cover. ONE … NO, Lane kicks out again. What a match this has turned into. Lane is in trouble though. Brought to his feet again. SMALL PACKAGE FROM LANE! ONE … TWO … HE PULLS THE TIGHTS!!! THREE!!! Mike Lane steals the victory away from Pathlow and the Michigan native is not happy!!

Mike Lane retreats wisely up the entrance ramp after that impressive victory with a microphone and waits for his music to cut.

“You’re a loser John, don’t you get it? That’s two weeks and two loses in a row and I’m going to keep that coming until you tell me who the fuck attacked Errol Flint,” says Lane who then tries to catch his breath. He walks a little bit back down the ramp and continues. “You’re all about making money, right? Well you could’ve come to us and we’d of doubled that offer. Now you aren’t going to make a dime, do you know why? Because we all know that losers don’t make money.”

Rick Walker: “He has a point. Winning matches and Championships around here dictate pay. I don’t like the guy but he’s right.”

Richard Roman: “Amen.”

Before he can say another word, the fans roar and confuse him – that’s because Acid is barrelling down the ramp behind him. He grabs him by the pants and the back of the head and runs him straight into the ring where Pathlow is happily waiting for him. Mike pops up off the canvas and BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! MASSIVE LEAPING SUPERKICK BY PATHLOW! That almost took his head off!


The American Capitalists stand in the ring, arms raised in celebration as Mike Lane lays beneath their feet, unconscious. Suddenly their celebration is interrupted as on the Titantron appears Errol Flint.

“Gentlemen, please, don’t let me interrupt your celebrations,” he says as the music comes to a quiet cut in the background. Pathlow and Acid turn to look at the Titantron in confusion. “I thought I’d remain at a safe distance this time because I have some news for you. Flatline is just two weeks away and you’re going to have a match. It’s going to be The American Capitalists vs. Mike Lane in a two on one handicap match.”

Rick Walker: “Uh, okay? Isn’t he putting Lane out to slaughter?”

Richard Roman: “He must have faith in him or something.”

The American Capitalists look extremely pleased with that – Pathlow grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“But that isn’t all. You see, this match is going to have some stipulations. First of all, if YOU LOSE then for the foreseeable future, you have no business. I’ll be shutting the American Capitalists down. No-one around here will be able to hire you and you won’t make a single dime from any of your matches until you tell me the name of the person who hired you.”

Rick Walker: “They’ll be wrestling for free!?”

Richard Roman: “He can do whatever he wants!”

“Secondly, it would seem the odds aren’t in Mike’s favour so it’s only fair that we have a special guest referee,” he says tapping his chin, pondering. “Now I wonder who’d love that opportunity? Oh I don’t know. How about ERROL FLINT! I’ll be seeing you at Flatline!”


Richard Roman: “This is unbelievable!!”

The Titantron flicks off and leaves the fans booing as The American Capitalists look at each other, perhaps realizing that they’re in some serious trouble now.

With the Cage lowered around the ring and both men inside it, the bell sounds and they lock up. Marcus over powers Lennox into a Side Headlock and is rushed against the ropes, only to be sent off and dropped with a Drop Toe Hold. Lennox quickly hops onto the ropes and tries to make his way up the cage, except The Black Knight is hot on his tail and follows. Both men fight on the top rope, Marcus finally wrapping a leg around and falling backwards with a RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP FROM THE TOP ROPE! There’s no pin falls in this one and you only win by escaping the cage.

The Black Knight is back to his feet and pulls The Incredible One to his, right handing him backwards into the ropes. He goes for another but Lennox blocks it, BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! Matt drops him hard on the canvas and demands that he gets back up, yelling at him; “I’m not done with you yet, get up!”. Marcus obliges and gets back to his feet, only to be grabbed by the head and RAMMED HEAD FIRST INTO THE STEEL CAGE! JESUS CHRIST! The Incredible One quickly heads up the ropes and onto the cage, making his climb for freedom.

Marcus finally gets back to his feet, slowly trying to follow Lennox up. Matt is now at the top and swings his leg over, only to have his other leg grabbed by The Black Knight. Marcus pulls himself up there too and now both men sit slugging it out on top of the cage. The Black Knight bounces Lennox head off the cage rim once, twice and FINALLY SENDS HIM PLUMMETTING TO THE CANVAS!! The fans roar as Marcus swings his leg over and begins climbing down. He hits the floor and the bell sounds, The Black Knight picking up the win here tonight.

We catch up with Fate backstage who receives a massive cheer from the crowd here tonight. He’s walking down a corridor likely towards the curtain for his match when he suddenly stops, turns around and looks behind him. Clearly feeling like he’s being watched, he continues only to stop again.

“You don’t have to creep up on me like some kind of stalker,” he says expecting a response but receiving none. “If you want a pair of my panties, all you have to do is say so.”

Again, nothing – except crowd laughter.

Fate turns around once more and physically bumps into the large looming frame of Desmond Cross, whose smile is wide and white.

“No-one but God is there, my brother,” Cross says with joy, likely having been the one stalking him. “And God is always watching you. Just like a few moments ago when God saw you eat that Burrito, he talked to me and he said, Desmond…”

“Stop that man before he gets diarrhea?” Fate says holding his belly as if he feels a little sick. “That seems like some good advice but hasn’t God got more important things to do? Don’t you? If you and God are watching my every move Desmond, you’re going to see a few things you won’t like. I know it’s been a long while since someone, you know,” he whispers. “Touched you down there,” he smiles. “But Fate doesn’t have to wait that long, okay?”

Rick Walker: “That didn’t go down well.”

Richard Roman: “How dare he insult God’s messenger like that.”

Desmond’s insane smile suddenly turns to anger, anger that he manages to hold onto.

“You’re funny, you’re humorous, you’re clearly foolish too. God has sent me to save you but I’ve just realized, he wants me to save you from yourself,” Desmond preaches. “And it seems I may have to go to extreme measures to stop your soul from burning in the damnation of hell.”

Fate laughs, taps Cross on the shoulder and walks off down the corridor.

“Goodluck with that!” Fate shouts from down the corridor, not seeing the demented expression that has crept across the face of Desmond Cross.

Rick Walker: “This is going to get uglier before it gets better, isn’t it?”

Richard Roman: “I think so. I don’t think Fate realizes what he’s gotten himself into here.”

The bell rings as both men lock up in the middle of the ring, neither man gaining the advantage until Zeke goes low, landing a savage Muy Thai knee that impacts hard against Dave’s ribs. Zeke keeps hold of Dave, punishing DTR with knee after knee, a final one lifting Dave up a few feet off the mat. Zeek then throws Dave across the ring, attempting a clothesline that DTR ducks under, and turns into a neckbreaker. Zeek slowly gets to his feet and is met by a striking flurry from DTR, who kicks Zeek hard in the guts, powering him up into the air and landing an impressive BNBE, hooking the leg for the cover upon impact…One…Two…Kickout

Zeek slowly gets to his feet but gets taken down by a hard DTR clothesline as the crowd begin to cheer as the Rattlesnake begins to psyche himself up just as someone walks out onto the rampway. Marvellous Master Chef walks out, not speaking a word but holds the world title high in the air, DTR yells in anger at him before turning around right into a massive RIP DDT. DTR looks out cold as Zeek drops down for the cover…One…Two…Thr…Kickout! Dave just gets the shoulder up, as Zeek looks down in anger, stomping DTR with a few savage kicks

Zeek pulls DTR up to his feet, staggering DTR with a huge Muy Thai knee, before nearly taking his head off with a Discus Lariat. The RIP City Saint signals for the end, setting DTR up for the Silencer, but Ed Famous appears in the crowd suddenly, wielding a ‘I Made Zeke Famous’ sign. Zeek takes offence to this, jawing at Ed for a few moments before turning back around to DTR, THE RATTLER! Out of nowhere DTR hit his finisher and he has the leg hooked…One…Two…Three!!! DTR has won this, he’s going to the final four after again proving he can end a match out of nowhere, but he may well have Ed Famous to thank for the win though.

When we head to the backstage area, it’s to see 911 heading down the corridor to an amazing cheer from the crowd. He stops dead, approached and confronted by the Hardcore Champion Matthew Cories- who also receives a cheer.

“I wondered when we would finally cross paths,” Cories says with some pent up frustration. He’s not happy with 911, who stands there, hands on hips, looking at him. “It’s not every day you meet a fraud.”

“A fraud?” 911 asks with some confusion.

Rick Walker: “I wondered when this was going to happen.”

“Well there can only be one true Tommy, and you’re not he.”

911 thinks about it for a moment and shakes his head. “So that’s your malfunction, huh? I’m the White Ranger and you’re what, the Green Ranger? I don’t think it matters who’s Tommy because we both know that white beats green.”

“I AM the Green Ranger, only I’m more powerful than you, White Ranger!” he says poking 911 in the chest, mimicking an important scene from Power Rangers that we all likely recall.

Rick Walker: “Did he just quote The Power Rangers? These guys are nuts.”

Richard Roman: “Maybe Scarecrow actually knocked him back into the 90’s?”

The White Ranger scoffs at him and pokes him back.

“There’s only one fraud in Ranger clothing around here and that’s you, Champ.”

That makes the Champion furious but 911 doesn’t care. He simply shrugs his shoulders and walks off, leaving the Champ to fume at what he’s just heard. This one is long from over.

The bell rings and both men circle each other and lock up in the center of the ring, Cosplay quickly shoves Fate to the mat, breaking the lock up. The crowd get to their feet and look toward the entry way as Desmond Cross has stepped out from the back and plops himself at the top of the entry ramp on a steel chair. Cosplay doesn’t waste any time, delivering a stiff clothesline dropping Fate once again. The big man grabs his opponent by the hair and drops him with a huge belly to belly.

Cosplay gets a huge head of steam and rushes toward the grounded Fate looking to squash him but Fate moves. Fate is up to his feet in a hurry and delivers stiff elbows to the head of Cosplay but they look to barely effect the big man. Fate rushes against the ropes, comes off and is caught after trying to connect with a flying cross body, Cosplay drives him into the turnbuckle before dropping him with a slam that squashes Fate.

Getting to his feet, slowly, but surely Cosplay poses in the middle of the ring. While Fate still lays motionless on the canvas, Cosplay scoots his way to the turnbuckle and begins to climb to the top. As he stands on top he poses like Superman…When out of nowhere balloons begin to plummet from the ceiling. Cosplay immediately freezes and doesn’t know what to think which allows Fate to crash into the ropes, crotching the big man. Fate follows up the top rope, ADVERSITY FROM THE TOP, Fate takes a good brunt of the impact but not as much as Cosplay. Fate makes the cover, 1…….2…….3. Fate wins!!

The Black Knight is backstage jumping up and down on the spot, trying to get himself ready for the Main Event that takes place in only a little while when a hot Matt Lennox approaches.

“You must think you’re something special, huh?” Matt says holding his head, still in pain from the Cage Match earlier tonight that Marcus won. “Well let’s see how well you do in the battle royal!”

Rick Walker: “When is this guy going to learn that he’s picking a fight with the wrong man?”

Richard Roman: “Marcus found himself lucky tonight. It won’t happen again.”

“Hold on a second Matt, it was you who thought my losing last week was funny. You’re the entitled rich kid who thought beating up a Reverend meant that you could beat me inside a Steel Cage,” Marcus says with a shrug of the shoulder. He steps closer to the angered Lennox and offers him a challenge. “But look, if you still think you can take me, how about you fight me at Flatline?”

Lennox looks at him with a disgusted look.

“I don’t think I can, I know I can and I’ll prove it. I accept your challenge for a match at Flatline but it’ll be under my terms, alright?” He suggests with wide eyes as Marcus nods in agreement. “It’ll be a Submission Match.”

Rick Walker: “That’s one hell of a match up. If tonight’s match is anything to go by then this one will be an epic.”

Richard Roman: “An epic that Lennox will pick up the win in, that you can be assured.”

“It could be a Deathmatch for all I care, you’re on,” The Black Knight agrees. “I’ll see you out there tonight.”

Matt is about to walk off when he chuckles to himself, stops and shrugs his shoulders. “Oh I forgot to mention, no, you won’t. I don’t mean to hold you back brother, but I had a word with Errol Flint and it would seem that you’re no longer in the Main Event.”

The fans boo as we fade out with the shocked face of The Black Knight.

The bell rings and Cross quickly gets the upper hand, peppering the former Professor with a series of hard right hands before sending him across the ring, dropping him to the canvas with a massive clothesline. Bordeaux slowly gets to his feet, standing right into a series of rights and lefts from the monstrous prophet who powers Bordeaux up onto his shoulders, walking around the ring for a few seconds before planting him down with a thundering Powerslam. Cross dropping down for a cover shortly afterwards…One….Two…KICK OUT!

Cross goes to pick up the Professor when he notices Fate walking down the ramp to ringside. Cross leans over the ropes, yelling a few choice words at his rival, as he’s suddenly rolled up from behind by Bordeaux. One…Two..KICKOUT! Cross gets to his feet furious but gets a thumb to the eye from Bordeaux who follows up with a huge European Uppercut, dazing the big man. Bordeaux seeing his chance, rushes to the ropes, taking Cross down to the mat with a Chopblock, before dropping down with several knee drops to the right leg, trying to take out Desmond’s vertical base.

Bordeaux lands several kicks to the right knee before attempting a Figure Four Leg Lock, but as he wraps around the right leg, Desmond manages to kick him off with his left into the ropes and as Bordeaux bounces off, he’s taken down by a spinebuster variation, landing on the mat hard as Cross calls for the finish. Desmond signals for the Amazing Grace as he urges Bordeaux to his feet. The Professor slowly gets up but as Cross gets his hands on him, a low kick leaves him prone as Bordeaux shoves Cross’s head between his legs, EARLY DISMI…NO! “96 Quite Bitter Beings” by CKY suddenly hits out of no-where, distracting Bordeaux as he’s about to finish this one off. Hayden Hardkore doesn’t come out though and Cross backdrops his way out of the move, sending Bordeaux flat on the mat once more. This time, Cross doesn’t wait, powering Bordeaux up to his feet, lifting him up onto his shoulders, AMAZING GRACE. Bordeaux may be out cold as Cross hooks the leg for the cover… One…Two…Three!!! Cross has won it with a dominating display and he celebrates in style, almost flaunting his victory in the face of Fate, who simply smiles, applauding the win almost sarcastically, as both men engage in a powerful staredown.

When we next head backstage it’s to see Lord Richward Merriweather entering the building. Merriweather isn’t scheduled to compete tonight and as a result, Charlie Thompson is standing by with a microphone.

“Richard Merriweather-“ Charlie asks, only to be quickly cut off.

“LORD!” he spits back in her face.

Rick Walker: “I hate this guy. What’s his problem?”

Richard Roman: “Right now? I think it’s that she got his name wrong.”

She slowly wipes the spittal from her face and continues, “I’m sorry. Lord Merriweather, you’re not scheduled to compete here tonight but you’re here, may I ask why?”

Merriweather stands proud and sneers in her direction. “Do I need your permission to be here, my dear? I think not,” he responds nonchalantly. “I’ve refused to wrestle tonight because last week I was put into the ring with a disgusting ball of sweat and puss known as Cosplay. I will not be competing on Afterburn until I’ve been given an opponent worthy of my stature.”

Rick Walker: “He can’t do that. He’s on this roster to compete and last week was a disgrace.”

Richard Roman: “He’ll compete when he’s good and ready, Rick. Would you get in the ring with Cosplay?”

Rick Walker: “If I was paid to, of course I would.”

“Stature?” a scoffing voice says from out of picture. Rick Mad waltzes in looking about as unimpressed as can be. “Is it that you don’t want to wrestle or you can’t wrestle?” Mad asks. Richard steps back, almost in disbelief. “You’re not a wrestler, are you? You’re a business man. Well let me tell you a wise business decision, okay? Let me give you some business advice,” he offers without giving Merriweather a chance to respond. “You don’t fight, you don’t get paid.”

Mad taps his head and walks off leaving Merriweather almost gobsmacked. Charlie has a quick follow up question but it’s less than appreciated.

“What do you think of Rick Mad’s comments, Lord Merriweather?” she bluntly questions.

Rick Walker: “Merriweather didn’t like that at all.”

Richard Roman: “Can you blame him? Rick Mad has no respect.”

Instead of answering though, he scoffs himself and angrily walks off, clearly not happy.

Before the bell can ring, the MMC who is still holding the stolen World Championship kisses it and puts it in his corner like it’s his. He admonishes the referee telling him not to touch it which allows Acid to come over and jump right on MMC, throwing some forearms and taking him down to the canvas. As the Chef is on the ground trying to cover up, Acid is kicking away at him not giving him any space or room. Acid gets the Chef to his feet and throws him to the outside.

Acid throws his body against the ropes, coming off and connecting with a huge suicide dive to the Chef, throwing both men into the guard rail. Acid is the first to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out but sliding the Chef back into the ring. Acid climbs the top rope waiting for the Chef to get to his feet and when he does he flies off toward him but the Chef is waiting connecting with a dropkick that floors both men. Miraculously both men are able to get to their feet at the same time.

The Chef throws a wild punch but misses, Acid hits him with a atomic drop, bouncing him right down on his appetizers. Acid is looking to end this match, signaling for his finisher but as he sets up to finish it, the crowd stands on their feet as Mike Lane is sprinting down the aisle. Acid completely loses his composure, trying to fend off the distraction from Lane which allows the Chef to get to his feet. After a boot to the midsection of Acid, The Chef nails him with the Kitchen Sink!!! Just about broke his damn neck. He makes the cover, 1…….2…….3. The Chef wins.

The Marvelous Master Chef grabs the World Title and celebrates as if he just defended it. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dave The Rattlesnake sliding into the ring and the MMC quickly scurries out of the ring and up the ramp as DTR chases after him.

After the balloons from earlier tonight that some would suggest cost Cosplay his match, he angrily storms backstage looking for Waldo. He barges his way into his locker room and stumbles face first into a pit of balls. Bemused, he struggles to pop himself back up and looks rather astonished.

“Foiled by The Joker? This cannot be!” he says.

Rick Walker: “Cosplay just doesn’t have a clue, does he?”

Richard Roman: “More to the point, how did Waldo get a ballpit back there? I totally want one for out here.”

“JOKER!!!” he yells angrily.

Just then, Waldo appears, leaping through the balls to attack him. Cosplay doesn’t know what’s hit him – though it’s likely a ball – as Waldo pummels away at him, grabbing ball after ball and crushing it on his rotund head.

Rick Walker: “I don’t even know what to say about that.”

Richard Roman: “BALL FIGHT!!”

With Cosplay laid out face first in the ballpit and rapidly sinking to the bottom, Waldo pulls himself out and with a ball in hand, finds great humour in the experience.

“The joke is on you, Batman!” he says seemingly buying into this nonsense. He throws the ball down at the sinking Cosplay and smirks. “Why so serious?”

Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ. Are you going to tell me that Waldo now believes he’s the joker?”

Richard Roman: “I have no idea but it’s hilarious!”

With Matthew Cories standing in the middle of the ring with his title raised, the arena is suddenly thrust into darkness as the sounds of squawking crows can be heard. They flutter away and the lights turn back on, revealing the Scarecrow standing in the middle of the ring, his arms spread and his head lowered. Cories doesn’t know what to do as the bell rings and attacks him, battering him with right hands and kicks that barely seem to effect The Hayman. He looks around the crowd nervously before running into the ropes and coming back to a massive Clothesline than literally spins him inside out.

The Scarecrow looks down at him and grabs him by the throat, lifting him back to his feet and throwing him one handed into the corner. He then storms in with a massive Big Boot that Matthew somehow ducks underneath, scurrying away across the ring. Scarecrow turns around to see Cories with a low Dropkick, taking out his knee and taking him down to one. He backs up again into the ropes, running back with another that crashes into the terrifying mask of The Nightmare. The Hardcore Champion now has the crowd on his side and goes one more time, determined to take him down only this time, ScarecrowTHROWS HAY IN HIS FACE!! HAYDAY!!

Cories hasn’t a clue what just hit him and stumbles backwards, wiping the hay away as The Hayman gets back to both feet and grabs him, lifting him up and down with a Body Slam. The Hardcore Champion rolls away and to his feet, running almost blindly at The Scarecrow who scoops him straight into a Tilt-O-Whirl Slam. The Nightmare doesn’t cover though and stands up, raising his arms into the Perch position that signals the end. Matthew slowly stumbles to his feet, turns around and kick to the gut… POWERBOMB, but wait, he lifts him higher so that he’s almost in a Perch position himself – THE LIGHTS GO OUT! WHAT THE HELL? When they come back on, Cories is unconscious on the canvas and The Scarecrow is led across him. One…. Two… Three!! That’s it! It’s over! What the hell happened when the lights went out? Matthew Cories didn’t get revenge tonight but if he’s lucky, he’ll escape with his head.

Scarecrow grabs poor Matthew from the canvas with a massive hand around his throat, squeezing the life out of the poor kid. He’s apparently not finished yet and with a tilted head, is about to make Cories wish he was never born.

Rick Walker: “Oh come on, he’s had enough damnit.”

Richard Roman: “This is just scary.”

Suddenly, the sound of “Chariots of Fire” by Vangelis is heard throughout the arena, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet with a roar of excitement as the unforgettable sound of Brent Kersh’ music blares, interrupting The Scarecrow. Brent hits the stage with a microphone, looking rather displeased.

“Just hold on a second, alright?” Brent asks carefully. “I don’t make a habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business but I can’t sit by backstage like everyone else and watch this happen.”

Rick Walker: “I’m so glad someone feels that way.”

Richard Roman: “Brent had better be careful or he’s going to be leaving here tonight on a stretcher.”

The problem is – The Scarecrow hasn’t stopped looking at the limp frame of Matthew Cories. The Monster is hell bent on destruction and Brent knows it.

“HEY!” he screams this time, trying to get his attention. “Are you listening to me? I know you want someone to intimidate, someone to frighten, but the kid is done, he’s unconscious, he’s not going to fight back,” Kersh tries now in desperation. All he wants is for Scarecrow to stop. “Why don’t you fight someone who will fight back?”

With those words, The Scarecrow snaps his head around and into the direction of Kersh, dropping Matthew like he barely had him in the first place.

Then the arena goes dark.

Rick Walker: “Oh God, this can’t be good.”

Richard Roman: “The Enforcer had better get out of here.”

The lights return and Brent remains stood on the entrance ramp, looking towards the ring.

Only The Scarecrow isn’t there, he’s behind him, arms spread and head lowered. Kersh turns to walk away and bumps directly into the nightmare.

Rick Walker: “He’s behind you!!”

Richard Roman: “Too late!”

Scarecrow reaches out and grabs him by the throat, launching him as hard as he can into the Afterburn set behind him, damn near throwing him through it.

Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ!”

Poor Kersh is laying on top of the entrance ramp, his head busted wide open from the impact, but yet he still won’t give up. He reaches up at Scarecrow who looms over him, trying to grab at his legs and pull himself to his feet. It’s then that The Hayman grabs him by the head and whilst looking in his eyes –HAYMAKER!! WHAT A POWERFUL RIGHT HAYMAKER!!

Rick Walker: “He could of just knocked his teeth out. Holy Christ, someone better get out here and see to Brent Kersh.”

Richard Roman: “We’ve got the US Title Battle Royal coming up and I really don’t think The Enforcer is going to make it.”

EMT’s and security rush the stage, although no-one dares go anywhere near Scarecrow until the lights go dark. When they come back on, he’s vanished and that gives the EMT’s a perfect opportunity to assess poor Kersh, which they do, as he remains unconscious and bleeding from a wound on his forehead.

With Brent Kersh being attended to on the stage, the entire roster except Scarecrow, Marcus and the Championship tournament competitors make their way out to the ring. The bell sounds and we’re quickly underway with a mass brawl in front of us. The first go to over the top rope is Waldo The Clown – who Cosplay dispatches with as much force as he can muster, hopping through the ropes and diving off the ring apron with a massive Belly Flop, almost squashing the life out of the clown and eliminating himself in the process. The crowd roar with excitement at that but meanwhile, back in the ring, Matt Lennox is Clotheslined over the top rope to the outside by Ed Famous.

Three eliminations already and this match is on fire. Whilst the fight continues in the ring, we suddenly switch to the entrance ramp where Brent Kersh is awake and refusing attention. He pushes one medic away, telling him “I’m fine, I’m fine!!” before stumbling back towards the ring.

Rick Walker: “Is he really going to compete in this match? He’s still bleeding for Christ sake.”

Richard Roman: “What an idiot. Go and lay down you fool.”

Rick Walker: “I don’t think he knows the meaning of the words lay down and give up.”

Brent slides into the ring and is set upon quickly by Zeek Williams and Mike Lane who clearly have no intentions of letting him be. That’s when and to a massive ovation, 911 dives in, attacking Black with a Clothesline and dragging Lane away, only for Acid to nail him with a Crossbody Block. Kersh is back up and ducks an incoming Clothesline by Famous, running him straight over the top rope to eliminate him as well. Rick Mad meanwhile is brawling with Colt Jackson when suddenly, on the Titantron appears his wife Danita – being spoken to by Lord Merriweather. Rick doesn’t hesitate to slam Colt to the canvas with a right hand and storm to the outside, eliminating himself as he goes after Merriweather.

Just then, 911 is being leveraged over the top rope by Professor Bordeaux and as Kersh comes to help, he’s tackled with a thunderous Spinning Heel Kick by Zeek Williams and 911 is dumped over the top. Mike Lane is by now back to his feet and attacks Acid in the corner, making short work of him with Isaiah Black getting involved – that is until Colt Jackson evens the odds and both men start battling back. Colt blocks a Russian Legsweep attempt by Black and swings with a Clothesline, except Isaiah is wise to it and ducks, grabbing Jackson by the head and launching him over the top. Acid is quick to follow as Mike Lane gets his revenge, dumping the masked Green Dragon over as well.

Meanwhile across the ring, Brent Kersh has retaken the upper hand from Zeek Williams and with some help from Hayden Hardkore, dumps Zeek over the top and to the floor, eliminating him. Kersh is doing phenomenally well for someone who just took one hell of an attack. Just as the commentators say that, Kersh stumbles to his knees and Professor Bordeaux is there to take advantage, running him head first over the top to the outside.

Rick Walker: “What a valiant effort and a standing ovation from the crowd to match.”

Richard Roman: “I can’t believe he wasn’t eliminated much sooner.”

We’re down to the final four now in Hayden Hardkore, Isaiah Black, Mike Lane and Professor Bordeaux. Only one of these four men will become the United States Champion and unfortunately for Hayden, he’s outnumbered by the bad guys. All three men attack viciously, beating him down to the canvas and stomping away at him. They soon have him back to his feet and dumped unceremoniously over the top rope.

The final three all square off now and there’s no loved loss, especially from Isaiah Black who storms across and nails Lane with a Clothesline. Black turns around to meet Bordeaux and a massive kick to the mid-section, the Professor nailing him with a DDT. Bordeaux pops back up and smugly grabs Lane, throwing him over the top rope and dusting off his hands as though he’s finished. Lane though landed on the ring apron and it’s Isaiah Black who storms across the ring, ducking a Clothesline attempt and nailing a Dropkick that finally sends Lane off onto the floor.

Rick Walker: “We’re down to the final two! Either Isaiah Black or Professor Bordeaux are going to become our first United States Champion.”

Richard Roman: “So it all comes down to the American and the Frenchie. C’mon Frenchie!”

Both men lock up in the middle of the ring, Black winning the tie up and taking Bordeaux into a Hammerlock. He wrenches back but the Professor is quick to back him up to the ropes, where COLT JACKSON IS WAITING! WAIT A MINUTE! COLT PULLS DOWN THE TOP ROPE AND BLACK STUMBLES STRAIGHT OVER IT! HE’S OUT! JUST LIKE THAT! PROFESSOR BORDEAUX HAS WON IT! Colt Jackson, to a cheer from the crowd, quickly escapes through the audience as Isaiah Black sits on the floor, in utter disbelief that he’s just been conned out of the belt.

Irrespective of how it happened, Professor Bordeaux drops to his knees in celebration, standing only to demand that the referee place his newly won United States Championship belt around his waist. The fans hate every minute of it, booing wildly as Bordeaux raises his arms to soak in their response. We’ve a newly crowned United States Champion and he’s from… FRANCE.


Rick Walker: “This is horrible! Professor Bordeaux is now our OSW United States representative and Champion. What a night, what a terrible night. Until next time folks, we’re the OSW and you’ve been watching Afterburn.”

The show comes to a close with Bordeaux in the middle of the ring, his arms raised and the US title around his waist.




The show opens with a fade in of Matthew Cories nailing the Chumbawamba on Mike Lane and pinning him.

“Matthew Cories has done it! By god, this kid is our new Hardcore Champion!”

Then darkness.

The flutter of birds is quickly accompanied by the frightening figure of Scarecrow – who Chokeslams Matthew hard into the canvas.

Then darkness.

And then he’s gone. No-where to be seen. The Scarecrow vanishes and we’re left with an unconscious Hardcore Champion.

“That’s the thing nightmares are made of!”

The World Championship, beautifully displayed inside a glass cabinet – that is until Marvellous Master Chef uses his skillet to break the case and steal the belt.

“So being that we’re both still in the tournament and both still within a shot of winning that thing, I’d ask you to put it back.”

WHACK!! SKILLET to the skull! DTR hits the canvas with a thud and MMC escapes the ring, running to the backstage area with a World Championship that doesn’t belong to him.

Our introduction comes to a close with the grinning masked smile of Master Chef, who in holding the title closely, exits the arena.



Mike Lane’s request to get on with his match is quickly obliged by Fate who makes his way to the ring with a purpose. Mike meanwhile leaned over the rope to bad mouth him and caught a right hand to the face that kicked this thing off. The bell rung and Fate was straight on the offensive, whipping Lane into the corner and following up with a massive Leaping Knee. He pulls him straight out and into a Snap Suplex, rolling straight over into the cover. One…. Kick Out! Lane quickly rolls to the outside and tries to regain some composure but Fate isn’t willing to let him rest and follows.

Mr. Inevitable storms after him, spinning him around and attempting a right hand that’s blocked and subsequently returned. Mike grabs him by the arm and drags him chest and face first straight into the ring post, taking him down to the floor. The Phoenix pulls him to his feet and rolls him back into the ring, going to work with boots before dropping down into the cover himself. One…. Two.. KICK OUT! Another kick out and this time, both men are getting back to their feet.

Lane is still a little fresher and catches Fate with a kick to the gut, planting him with a Single Arm DDT. This time he neglects he cover, getting back to his feet and signalling for the end. Fate slowly stirs back to his and LEAPING SUPERKICK! THE SHADOW KICK! NO!! Fate ducks under it perfectly, ADVERSITY! DOUBLE KNEE FACE BUSTER! Fate scrambles into the cover.. One…. Two….. THREE!! Fate shuts Mike Lane’s mouth and advances to the next round of the tournament. What a way to kick off the debut edition of Afterburn with such a brilliant match.


   “not the same”   


Hayden Hardkore is preparing for one hell of a match up with Desmond Cross here tonight but when he arrives in frame, the fans go wild for him. A smile creeps across his face as he listens in, only for the door to open and DTR of all people to walk in. Hayden, who knows Dave all too well, hops straight to his feet with a readiness to fight.

“Hold on, I’m not here to fight you man,” Dave explains with his hands out, trying to calm the situation down before it possibly escalates. “I’m not the same guy I was in the IWF, I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Hayden doesn’t believe him.

“You realize that I saw the things you did, right? You burned down houses, brutalized people, burned people. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’ve changed? I believed you had been burned. I believed you had a scarred face but you know what? It was all lies, wasn’t it?”

Rick Walker: “I watched IWF as a fan frequently and I have to say, I don’t really believe him either.”

Richard Roman: “You don’t? What does a man have to do to change?”

“I have a lot to make up for, I get that. I’ve done some despicable things in my life but that was a life time ago,” he pleads, trying to show himself to be a new man. “I’m going to prove it to you and to everyone else here. People can change,” DTR says with a handshake offered. “I know you know that.”

“I don’t think so,” Hayden says refusing to shake his hand. “I think The Virus is still swimming around inside there and this nice guy act will soon wear off. I’m not buying it and you can bet your bottom dollar that no-one from the IWF in this federation will either.”

Rick Walker: “It may sound harsh but he isn’t wrong. I was just a fan and I’m telling you now, if DTR pulled this back then, you wouldn’t go near him with twenty foot barge poll.”

Richard Roman: “You talk about being a fan but I competed there and Dave was a stand up athlete. He was the kind of guy you could trust with your kids.”

Rick Walker: “He was the kind of guy that’d set your kids on fire, make no bones about it.”

The Rattlesnake takes back his offer of a handshake, looking dejected. He heads towards the door and stops, turning to Hayden, wanting to try one last time.

“Eventually you’re going to realize that I’m not the man I used to be.”

Hardkore sighs.

“I hope so David, I do,” he says honestly, making The Rattlesnake smile. “Because if you are the man you used to be the Old School Wrestling is in for a torturous time of it.”



This match started in a one sided manner, Lennox taking control quickly with kicks and punches, backing The Reverend up into the corner and going to work with hard shots to the stomach and face. The Incredible One wasted no time in sending him across the ring to the opposite side, connecting with a massive Corner Clothesline on the return. He pulls him from the corner and into a Belly to Belly Suplex, dropping him hard on the canvas.

Refusing to cover and clearly looking to make a statement of intent, Lennox pulls him back to his feet and scoops him up, dropping him with a Backbreaker. The fans don’t like the pure arrogance of this guy who gets back up and smirks at the carnage he’s causing. The Incredible One finally signals for the end, pulling The Reverend to his feet, ducking a feeble Clothesline attempt and slammimg him down hard with a German Suplex! THEN ANOTHER… A SWIVEL OF THE HIPS AND A THIRD! THE 410 SPECIAL!

There’s just no chance of a comeback now and Lennox knows it. He gets back to his feet and goes straight to the legs of the Reverend, turning him over with a SHARPSHOOTER! THE INCREDIBLE LOCK!!He’s bang in the middle of the ring and Damon has no choice but to tap out. An incredibly one sided match here tonight that shows the world how impressive this young Matt Lennox is.



In what has already begun as an extremely frustrating night for Mike Lane, he’s backstage and storms into the office of Errol Flynt – who after being attacked earlier this evening is nursing his head with an ice pack.

“Before you say a damn word kid, I know you’re pissed off,” Errol stops him in his tracks. “And what, you want revenge against Fate for beating you? We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Mike frowns at him.

“Like who?” Mike sneers back.

Errol stands up and walks over to his drinks cabinet, pouring himself and Mike a whisky then handing him the glass.

“The American Capitalists, that’s who. It was John Pathlow who attacked me earlier tonight kid and from what I understand, he was paid to do it.”

Rick Walker: “Hold on a second, John Pathlow did that?”

Richard Roman: “That wasn’t the smartest move of his part.”

“What do you mean; paid?” Mike responds, taking a sip of his whisky. “Are you saying he didn’t attack you because he wanted to?”

“The American Capitalists are all about capital, Mike. Someone paid them to beat me up and I want you to find out who. That means that we’re going to war with the American Capitalists because you know they won’t give up that information easily,” Errol says with a command over his business and ideas. “That also means that you’re going to need a partner.”

Rick Walker: “I don’t know if anyone on this roster is going to want to take part in that war.”

Richard Roman: “Hold on a second, you just have to think about this one. Whoever helps Mike Lane take on those two idiots and find out who’s responsible will be in the bosses favour; I don’t care where you work, that’s the best place to be.”

Mike nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I can find someone on this roster who given the right reward, will be extremely helpful,” Mike boasts with a smirk, only to down the rest of his drink and place the glass on the cabinet. “Just leave it with me.”

And with that, The Phoenix heads out of the office, leaving Errol to finish his drink with a wry smile on his face.


  ACID vs. waldo the clown   

Waldo The Clown wastes no time in getting the shenanigans underway in this one by offering a handshake only to whip it away and honk his nose. This doesn’t impress Acid who quickly attacks with swift kicks, backing Waldo into the ropes and whipping him across the ring, connecting with a Crossbody Block on the return. That sends The Clown sprawling to the outside to recover, except he finds Acid leaping over the top rope with a giant Splash that catches him off guard.

The Green Dragon pulls him back to his feet but is suddenly stunned backwards, a buzzer on the palm of Waldo’s glove responsible for shocking him. Waldo fights back with buzzing right hands – literally, that turns into a DDT on the concrete floor. The Clown throws Acid back into the ring and attempts a cover.. One… Two.. Kick Out! He pops back to his feet and drags The Dragon over to the corner, running back to the opposite run and taking a long run up before leaping into the air – WHOOPIE CUSHION BUSTER!! NO!! ACID WITH A LEG UP CATCHES HIM DIRECTLY IN THE MID-SECTION!

With the Bronco Buster missed, Acid is quickly up onto the top rope.. ACID RAIN BOMB!! HIGH LEAPING SWANTON!! NO!! THE CLOWN MOVES!! Unbelievably, Waldo rolls out of the way and Acid plants himself firmly on the canvas. Both men slowly get back to their feet and GREEN MIST! WALDO SPITS IN HIS FACE!The mask helped catch some of it but Acid doesn’t know what to do, he stumbles forwards and The Clown catches hm.. SHIRANUI!! NO!! STEAM RELEASE!! STEAM JUST CAME OUT OF ACID’S MASK AND NOW WALDO IS BLINDED! ACID WITH A ROLL UP… ONE…. TWO… THREE!! Out of no-where and in the most crazy of circumstances, Acid has put himself into the final eight with a strange display indeed. Both men ended up blinded by it was The Green Dragon who managed to pick up the all important win.



After that amazing match, we catch Acid walking through the curtain backstage to be greeted by John Pathlow. John doesn’t look too impressed and with a stern expression on his face, clearly has some bad news his victorious partner here tonight.

“Remember the job we took tonight?” he says looking at the blank expressionless eyes of his partner.“Well it has come back to bite us, just like I said it would. I don’t care about Errol Flynt and his future son in law, effectively putting a price on our heads but what I do care about,” he says pointing to the ring, “Is the World Heavyweight Championship and our 50/50 split.”

Rick Walker: “How are these two souly about money? They don’t care about representing the OSW, they just want the money that title brings.”

Richard Roman: “Some people are in this business for titles, some for kicking people’s asses and some for making money, Ricky. These boys just want a quick buck and it’s going to get them hurt.”

Acid nods and suggests with his movement that John following him down the corridor and he does, entering a locker room where inside, a suited man sits tied to a chair.

“What’s this?” The Alpha Dog seems confused. “He paid us, right?”

Acid again nods.

Richard Roman: “Is this guy mute or something?”

“Alright then,” John cracks his knuckles. “I suppose it’s time we found out who paid you to pay us.”

And with that, Pathlow shuts the door on the camera, locking us out. Whilst the commentators remark about what they’ve just seen, all we can hear is the sound of a man yelping in pain whilst physically beaten and tied to a chair.

Rick Walker: “This is just gruesome! Utterly gruesome.”

Richard Roman: “But you something Rick? It proves that even the American Capitalists don’t yet know who paid them to take out Errol tonight.”

Rick Walker: “Of course, you’re right, it could of been anyone on the roster.”



When the bell sounded in this one, both men locked up in the middle of the ring and exchanged technical locks until Marcus dropped The Rattlesnake with a big Hip Toss. He quickly got back to his feet and walked into a Clothesline, accompanied by a quick cover.. One…. Kick Out. DTR wasn’t going to be pinned after that. The Black Knight wasted no time in getting him back to his feet but it was Dave with right hands to the mid-section that stopped him in his tracks. Dave pushed him back into the ropes, sent him across the ring and launched himself with the Double Knee Strike.

The Rattlesnake quickly helped him up only to connect with a DDT and go for the cover. One… Two… Kick Out! The Black Knight refuses to be bounced out of here that easily. Both men are slowing now and back up, DTR whipping Marcus into the ropes but it’s reversed, Marcus spinning him back around and connecting with a Belly to Belly Suplex. He covers, hooking the inside leg.. One… Two… KICK OUT! Another kick out and by now, The Black Knight finds himself getting a little frustrated.

Marcus is back to his feet first and attempts to pick Dave up, only for a quick inside roll up out of no-where… One…. Two.. THREE!! KICK OUT! He barely kicks out and both men roll away from the pin fall, getting back to their feet and THE RATTLER! WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM? The Stunner that see’s DTR drop to his knee’s absolutely takes The Black Knight’s head off. He covers.. One…. Two…. Three!! There you have it! Dave The Rattlesnake is heading to the next round and that came literally out of no-where.


   “a live studio audience”   

“The fresh prince of wrestling is filmed if front of a live audience.”

Music from the 90’s can be heard blaring out of a locker room that we soon arrive and enter, the camera faced with partying youth, women and cups of beer. Right in the middle of the party is none other than Matthew Cories, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Welcome to the show more exciting than an episode of the Power Rangers,” he beams, only to be interrupted somewhat by a girl who walks past. “Sup b?”

The girl scoffs at him and after a long stare, he finally he turns his attention back to us again.

“I already told that I’m all that and a bag of chips and I’m not lying. In a few minutes time I’m going to put on a wrestling clinic. It’s going to have everything. It’s going to have emotion, just like when Will and Carlton were arrested for being black. It’s going to have action like an episode of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the unpredictability of Dawson’s Creek.”

“Excuse me?” Suddenly comes a voice that interrupts him. Standing there with a smug look on his face is Professor Bordeaux. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your schooling out there, instead of partying like some kind of animal? This isn’t prom, Matthew.”

The music suddenly screeches to a halt and everyone turns to look at the obvious intruder.

“Who do you think you are; Mr. Belding or something? I know Mr. Belding and sir, you are no Mr. Belding.

“Rick Walker: “That’s right, he is no Mr. Belding.”

Richard Roman: “No Mr. Belding, you say?”

Rick Walker: “No Mr. Belding.”

All comedy aside, Matthew doesn’t seem too impressed and neither does Professor Bordeaux.

“Listen child, out there tonight, class will be in session. For you in just a moments, there will be no sitting at the back of the class firing spitballs from your little pea shooter. This match is a tournament for the OSW World Heavyweight Championship and there will be none of these shennagins.”

Everyone laughs at the word shennagins, which irritates the Professor to the point of storming out. The music quickly continues and Matthew, with a grin on his face, heads towards the door.

“Feenay! Fee-hee-hee-hee-nay! I said fa-ha-ha-Feenay! FEEE-NY!”

Rick Walker: “Well folks, if that wasn’t something then guess what; Professor Bordeaux vs. Matthew Cories is up next.”

Richard Roman: “Time for that kid to get taught a valuable lesson if you ask me.”


  matthew cories vs. professor bordeaux 

These two had already been introduced after their earlier confrontation but that only made them disike each other more. The match started quickly with Cories agility seeing him duck a Clothesline, launch himself from the middle rope and connect with a Crossbody of his own.. One… Kick Out! The quick pin throws Bordeaux of his game and The Fresh Prince has him back up, into a Side Headlock and quickly a Hip Toss. The Professor slides to the outside to regroup, and as Matthew approaches the ropes, whips his legs out from underneath him.

With that The Professor is back in action and slides back into the ring, stomping away at Cories as much as he can before helping him back to his feet and sending him into the ropes, connecting with a big Clothesline. He drops into the cover.. One… Two… Kick Out. Cories gets a shoulder up but is dragged back to his feet, only to fight back with a shot to the mid-section, another, another, and a MASSIVE DDT! The Fresh Prince covers one more time… One… Two… Kick Out! Another kick out and this one is quickly coming to an erratic close.

The Fresh Prince decides it’s time to go up top and heads to the top rope, positioning himself andSHOOTING STAR PRESS! NO! THE PROFESSOR MOVED! He slams into the canvas and now it’s anyone’s game. Slowly both men get back to their feet and it’s Bordeaux with a kick to the mid-section, pulling the kid in with a Double Underhook Facebuster position – BUT NO, CORIES DROPS DOWN AND SCOOTS THROUGH HIS LEGS, SPINNING BORDEAUX… THE CHUMBAWAMBA!! NOO!! BORDEAUX FROM BEHIND THIS TIME WITH A ROLL UP AND A HANDFULL OF TIGHTS… ONE… TWO.. THREE! HE STOLE IT! THAT BASTARD STOLE IT! Professor Bordeaux is heading to the next round and by God, what a shame as well. He utterly stole this one.



Fate is standing by backstage with Charlie Thompson, looking rather pleased with himself after an impressive debut victory earlier tonight.

“Fate, earlier tonight you defeated Mike Lane to advance into-“

“Hold on a second Thompson, can you hear that?” both of them stop speaking and listen in as the fans begin chanting his name. “That’s the people, baby. Tonight they got their first taste of Fate and can’t you tell they’re salivating for more? It was destined that tonight I would advance in the tournament, just like I believe it is destiny that I’ll be standing on the mountain apex as your OSW World Heavyweight Champion.”

Rick Walker: “These fans are really behind Fate here tonight.”

Richard Roman: “Why? I don ‘t get it. He barely scraped past Mike Lane.”

Rick Walker: “That’s not exactly true.”

“Destiny?” suddenly scoffs a voice from out of frame. That voice belongs to the mammoth Desmond Cross, who walks towards Fate with a shake of his head. “Destiny has nothing to do with it, nor does fate. I don’t believe in destiny or fate, I believe in God. I believe in the Messiah and it is he who deserves credit for your success.”

Fate looks at him sideways, closing in.

“No-body takes credit for what Fate does in that ring, do you understand me? You shouldn’t be concerned with God or what I’ve done here tonight. You should be concerned with Hayden Hardkore.”

Desmond smiles, agreeing.

“You’re right, I should be. But you see Fate, I have the holy Lord on my side. I have God in my corner, helping me to fight and win my battles. Hayden is Hayden, I’ve fought him before but you? You irk me. I will defeat him tonight and God willing, I will meet you in the tournament.”

Rick Walker: “Fate vs. Cross? Can you imagine that match?”

Richard Roman: “Those are some strong views on the line in a wrestling match, lemme tell ya.”

Both men stare each other down and it isn’t until Cross is about to walk away that Fate smiles.

“As fate would have it.” he responds.

Cross chuckles and continues to walk away, leaving Fate with a big smile on his face.

World Heavyweight Championship Tournament


  lord merriweather vs. cosplay 

The beautiful flow of Ecstasy of Gold hits and out from behind the curtain walks two men, holding it from each side as Lord Merriweather steps through with his arms in the air, seeking the fans immediate approval, which never comes. He turns his nose up in disgust at their boo’s and makes a purposeful walk to the ring, waiting for his two “men” to clean each ring step and then spread the ropes for his entry.

Rick Walker: “Well folks, we’re about set for our next match of the evening but it appears that Lord Richard has one or two things he wants to get off his chest before hand.”

Richard Roman: “I can’t believe a man of his stature is being forced to compete against Cosplay here tonight.”

With a microphone now in hand, the wrinkled befuddled Merriweather speaks.

“Tonight, in front of all you idiotic, moronic imbeciles,” he says to a roar of boos from the crowd. “I’m supposed to perform.”

Rick Walker: “That’s why he’s on the roster.”

Richard Roman: “I disagree. He’s simply adding class to the roster, that’s all.”

“I’m supposed to face some oversized man-that-looks-like-two in the middle of this ring for an opportunity to hold a Championship that would be better suited around my waist in the first place,” he scoffs looking angrily around the audience. “So I’m out here to tell you exactly what I tried to tell Errol Flynt earlier tonight; I will not be competing.”

Rick Walker: “He can’t do that, can he?”

Cosplay steps out into the arena dressed as Batman as the theme tune to Batman plays. As he comes down to the ring he runs along the crowd trying to high five people, but everyone ignores him. He walks up the ring steps and stumbles his way over to Lord Merriweather.

Richard Roman: “Look at this moron and tell me he can’t.”

Batman – as he apparently wants to be known has a microphone in hand and one or two words for Lord Richard Merriweather.

“Alfred!” he screams in a deep voice. “Why aren’t you in your outfit and in the Batcave? We have no time for these shenanigans.”

Merriweather looks towards Edwards and Stephen who shrug in confusion.

“The world needs saving and you’re taking time out of my busy schedule to stand here and complain? Go and get dressed, darnit. Batman needs a sandwich before he goes and saves the world.”

“Excuse me?” Merriweather asks somewhat perturbed. “Who exactly do you think I am, young man?”

Batman scoffs loudly. “You’re ALFRED, MY BUTLER!”

Rick Walker: “That’s has not gone down well.”

Richard Roman: “Fly away Batman, fly away.”

Now looking like the angriest man alive, Merriweather nods at his henchmen who quickly attack poor Batman. They knock him to the canvas with right hands and stomp the holy hell out of him, all the while, the words BOOM, POW, THWACK appear on the Tron.

Richard Roman: “Hahaha! That’s brilliant.”

Stephen and Edward hold Batman down as Lord Richard hits the ropes, comes back and leaps into the air…


Richard Roman: “What agility for a man of what, eighty?”

Rick Walker: “How can you condone this? Instead of wrestling this match, Merriweather has had his henchman attack poor Cosplay and lay him out.”

Merriweather bends down, shaking his head at Batman.

“Maybe one day you’ll understand, Cosplay. Maybe one day all of you will too,” he points to the crowd around him as well. “But only first class will do.”

He drops the microphone and demands that his henchmen open the ring for him so he can exit.

Richard Roman: “Maybe Cosplay can look on the bright side, huh? At least he’s into the final eight with a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. Our Lord has just declined his opportunity to take part.”

Rick Walker: “Yeah and good riddance.”

The scene fades to the backstage area with referee’s attending to a poor unconscious Cosplay.



Poor Cosplay is being helped to the backstage by four officials who despite their number are still struggling to assist him. They finally drop him in a chair near the curtain and leave him there, where he’s quickly approached by Fred Sanders.

“Cosplay, can I get a quick word with you about what just happened out there?” Fred asks without much compassion, only to receive silence for his trouble. “Cosplay? Hello?”

Cosplay doesn’t even look at him.

“Batman?” That gets his attention. “You realize that you’re not actually Batman, right?” Fred growls at him. “Batman wouldn’t get his ass kicked by a feeble old man.”

Rick Walker: “That’s not exactly true.”

Richard Roman: “That’s how I saw it.”

Cosplay looks up at him, his mask still on and roughly grabs the interviewer by his shirt, using all his weight to slam him against the wall.

“Batman didn’t get his ass kicked,” the gruff impersonated voice of Cosplay responds angrily.“Sometimes the Batman has to fake getting his ass kicked so that he can trap the joker.”

With that said, out of the corner of his eye, Cosplay notices Waldo The Clown walking nearby.

“JOKER!!” he yells angrily in the direction of Waldo. “You may think you’ve gotten the upper hand on Batman but you’ve only succeeded in making me want to lock you up in Arkham Asylum even more!”

Rick Walker: “That’s not the Joker.”

Richard Roman: “You could’ve fooled me.”

Waldo walks over, a giant smile on his face.

“OOOHHHHH HEHEHE HAHA, YOU’RE A SILLY LITTLE BOY AIN’TCHA?” the clown reacts loudly, startling Batman – I mean Cosplay. “You want me to tell you a joke?” he says pulling out a flower. “What did the flower say to the silly boy?”

Cosplay reluctantly leans in to look at the flower, Waldo spraying water in his face and then running off. Cosplay shakes his head angrily, looking back at Fred and slamming his hand into his fist.

“The Joker must be stopped!”

Rick Walker: “I honestly have no words to describe what we just witnessed.”

Richard Roman: “That’s why I should be lead commentator. I’ll summarize this whole thing for you and the audience, shall I? Batman over there, well he put on a fuck-ton of weight and Joker – he’s the one that just sprayed water in Batman’s face, has given up his job as a criminal mastermind to blow up balloons for children wearing floppy shoes and a big Ronald McDonald wig..”

Rick Walker: “Why thank you Richard.”

Richard Roman: “Not a problem.”



The insane Marvellous Master Chef is quickly taken down to the canvas with a Clothesline as the bell rings. The massive monster of a man in John Pathlow wastes no time and as he gets back up catches him with a Belly to Belly Suplex. MMC is reeling now and rolls to the outside, looking for his skillet. The Alpha Dog follows him, catching a rake to the eyes for his trouble, followed up by Chef hamming him head first into the ring post. He quickly rolls him back into the ring and goes for the cover… One… Two..MASSIVE KICK OUT! Pathlow quite literally launches Master Chef off him to kick out.

That surprises The Marvellous One who rushes off towards the ropes as Pathlow gets back to his knees, nailing him with a brutal Basement Dropkick. He covers again.. One… KICK OUT! By now he’s losing his patience and heads up top…. SHOOTING STAR PRESS!! HE GOT IT!! An instant cover this time… One… Two.. KICK OUT! Furious with his inability to put Pathlow away in this one, he rolls to the outside again, grabbing his skillet and heading back into the ring. The referee backs him into the corner and refuses to let him use it which inadvertently gives Pathlow a chance to get back to his feet.

By the time MMC pushes the referee to one side and storms at The Alpha Dog with his skillet, Pathlow is well aware and ducks under the intended shot, dropping him with a Swinging Neckbreaker that sends the weapon flying. Both men are soon back to their feet and John nails him with a Running Knee Strike and signals for the end. He waits for Master Chef to get back up and when he does, he stumbles forward..BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! LEAPING SIDEKICK!! NO!! Marvellous Master Chef ducks under and rolls him up, grabbing the middle rope… ONE…. TWO… THREE! He cheated! That bastard just cheated by holding the ropes! Either way, MMC is heading to the final eight at the expense of John Pathlow and you know there’s going to be some hell to pay for that.


   “CALLING 911”   

The sound of “Chariots of Fire” by Vangelis is heard throughout the arena, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet with a roar of excitement as the lights slowly begin to dim. Suddenly red, white, and blue pyrotechnic effects begin to explode from the base of the entrance ramp that last several seconds before “The Enforcer” Brent Kersh appears on the upper portion of the structure. The OSW superstar steps out onto the steel stage with his hands on his hips and looking around the arena in appreciation of the response from the crowd. Kersh is wearing a loose fitting black tee shirt embroidered with the letters ‘OSW’ and soaked in sweat. In addition,

Rick Walker: “Well here comes Brent Kersh, some of whom have called a massive coup for OSW.”

Richard Roman: “He’s a huge star in the world of wrestling and not one many expected to make a debut with us. Personally though, I can’t say I rate the guy.”

Rick Walker: “Brent is a multi-time Champion, which is multiple more times than you. Perhaps you should show the guy some respect, just like this sold out MSG crowd here tonight.”

“The Enforcer” is wearing his traditional wrestling attire of black tights, boots, kneepads, kneebraces, and white tape wrapped tightly around his wrists. As the colorful collage of sparks begin to die down, Kersh begins his approach to the ring. Maintaining a calm and collected mannerism, Brent moves back and forth from one side of the walkway to the other, slapping hands with the fans lining the security railing. Once the professional wrestler gets to within several feet of the ring apron, he sprints the remaining distance — sliding under the bottom rope and coming to his feet in the middle of the ring. The OSW superstar lifts both hands into the air as he maneuvers his way around the ring and soon receives a microphone.

“It’s been a long time no see, huh?” Brent asks the crowd who cheer at his return to professional wrestling. “The last time I stood in a ring ready to compete, it was two years prior and I must admit, I’ve missed this. There’s been a lot of questions asked of me recently, like where I went, will I stay and what am I looking for but know this, if only this; I’m ready to fight.”

The fans pop, chanting his name.

“Now tonight, there appears to be a World Championship tournament that I’ve not been invited to participate in,” Brent remarks to a boo from the crowd, only to put up his hand and signal that it’s okay.“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind working my way up from the very bottom but that means starting with my opponent tonight; 9… 1…. 1!”

“911! 911! 911!”

The booming, emblematic sound bite of “NINE-ONE-ONE” (similar to that of the nWo’s “NEW-NEW-NEW WORLD ORDER”) precedes the start of Pearl Jam’s Even Flow. Three pyrotechnics erupt separately at the head of the entrance to the arena, before the masked form of 911 is propelled into the air from beneath the staging area to a chorus of cheers.

Richard Roman: “Ask and you shall receive.”

Rick Walker: “This is going to be one hell of a match but I wonder what 911 has to say for himself.”

He jogs along the aisle, clapping hands with any fans holding their arms out in anticipation. Leaping onto the apron, he holds the top rope and uses the bottom rope as a springboard to leap and forward somersault into the ring. He then heads over to the corner and grabs a microphone of his own, laughing.

“You know Kersh, I didn’t exactly know what to expect when I came out here. It would seem that you’re not the only one starting from the bottom and that our match tonight, it’s a show stopper for the pair of us,” he says as Brent nods in agreement. “Which means only one thing; we both want and have to win. By the end of this match, only one of us will be leaving here in an ambulance and I can tell you something, it won’t be me.”

Brent chuckles to himself as well.

“I’ve done this dance before, son. I’ve been in the ring opposite cocky young guys like you for many years and do you know what’s always happened? Whether it’s a one-two-three or a tap-tap-tap, you always end up eating your words,” Brent lets him know with a smile. The fans meanwhile are quickly beginning to split between them, with chants directed at both men. “So how about we stop with the yapping and get to the fighting?”

The Enforcer chucks his microphone to the canvas and give 911 a wink, who hasn’t quite finished.

“Sounds good to me. But let me leave you with something to dwell on whilst I’m kicking your ass; when I’m done with you, who you gonna call?”

With that, 911 also drops his microphone and it looks like this one is on.



Before this ambulance match can even start it’s like a war of words between the crowd. Split directly down the middle between those who love Brent Kersh and those who love 911, The White Ranger rallies them up by yelling “Who ya gonna call” loudly into the audience, receiving “911” back in support. Kersh meanwhile stands focused, listening with a big ol’ smile as his half of the crowd chant back “You’re going home in an ambulance.”

The match starts with a goodwill handshake before Kersh offers a lock up that 911 foolishly takes, ending up with him on his knees and back to his feet in a Headlock. The White Ranger manages to send the big man into the ropes, only to find himself on the receiving end of a Shoulder Block on the way back. Kersh though seizes the opportunity and quickly dumps his opponent over the top rope and to the outside. He soon follows him out with clubbing forearm blows to the back of the head and neck as 911 stumbles away, eventually turning to duck under and connect with a surprise Dropkick.

That buys him some time and he utilizes that fast, hopping onto the barricade with cat like agility and as The Enforcer gets back to his feet, he catches him with a Hurricanrana that sends Kersh tumbling to the concrete floor. 911 is back to his feet first, albeit slowly and reaches under the ring, grabbing himself a steel chair. By the time he turns around though, The Enforcer is waiting and BIG BOOT TO THE CHAIR, TO THE SKULL! THAT HAD TO HURT! Kersh grabs the chair and throws it down, pulling 911 to his feet and dragging him over to the entrance ramp.

The fans are urging their man on as 911 fights out, bouncing Kersh’ head off the guardrail and stumbling him. He goes at him with kicks, lefts, rights, then a massive SPINNING HEEL that could of damn near knocked Brent’s teeth out. The Goodwill Samaritan grabs Kersh by the head and hops onto the ring apron, spinning off with A THUNDEROUS TORNADO DDT!! “Holy Shit” chants reign out as both men lay feeling it on the concrete floor. 911 is first back to his feet and grabs Kersh, trying his best to drag him up towards the ambulance – barely succeeding given his giant frame.

With that, 911 has made it to the ambulance and rushes him back first into the double doors. The Enforcer hits the floor and that gives 911 the opportunity to open the doors, though by the time he has, Brent is back up and pulls him forward into a Short Arm Clothesline. This match is reaching its conclusion and both men know it. Kersh grabs The White Ranger and pulls him to his feet, attempting to throw him head first into the ambulance – except 911 spins out and reverses, attempting to throw Kersh inside BUT NO! He reverses and with all that momentum, launches 911 straight into the ambulance. He quickly slams the doors shut and this one is over, The Enforcer has picked up the win in a fantastic match.



The match might be over and the ambulance driving off but that doesn’t stop the doors from suddenly flying open in mid-drive, 911 launching himself out and into a roll across the concrete floor.

Richard Roman: “WHAT THE HELL?!”

Rick Walker: “Did we REALLY just see that?”

Brent can’t believe his eyes as 911 pulls himself back to his feet and stumbles over to him, stopping by to stare him down for a moment before attempting to walk away.

Richard Roman: “This might get a little rough.”

But instead of letting him go, The Enforcer stops him.

“Damn kid, you’ve got some balls,” Brent says off microphone, clearly eluding to the fact that despite being beaten here tonight, 911 refused to leave the building in an ambulance. He offers a handshake and 911, who takes his cue from the roaring crowd, takes him up on it. “Good match, man.”

Both men raise their arms in unison and soak in the crowd reaction before heading to the backstage area, having put on one hell of a match here tonight.

Rick Walker: “That has to be the most sportsmanlike match we’ve seen here tonight?”

Richard Roman: “It makes you sick, doesn’t it?”


“GOD DAMNIT!” is what we hear as the segment opens backstage with The Black Knight throwing his gym bag against a wall. He’s pissed off at being beaten by DTR toight, if only by a small margain. He’s about to storm out when laughing behind him, is Matt Lennox, getting ready to go home himself. The infuriated Knight turns around quizicially, staring straight at the Incredible One. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“Oh come on, you don’t see it? There’s this big idiot in front of me, crying because he lost tonight. I suppose we can’t all taste the sweet taste of victory, can we?” Matt says with a I-want-to-knock-his-teeth-out grin.

“And who the fuck are you?” bluntly asks Marcus, who obviously isn’t a happy man.

Matt stands up and gets closer, tilting his head.

“Yeah, that’s a good one. The era of incredibility started tonight and you’ll have me believe I’m a fool if you didn’t witness it. But I’ll tell you this, if you don’t want to witness it again, I’d get outta here.”

Rick Walker: “Them be fighting words, me thinks.”

Richard Roman: “Marcus doesn’t want any piece of the Incredible One, let me assure you.”

“I’ll tell you something, if you think you’re so tough that you won’t get bounced in a match with me, how about we put that to the test?” Marcus considers. “Next week on Afterburn, The Black Knight vs. Matt Lennox inside a Steel Cage.”

Rick Walker: “Well Holy crap.”

Richard Roman: “That escalated quickly.”Matt grins.

“If you want to lock yourself inside a Cage with me, that’s your problem. I’ll see you next week on Afterburn.”

With that, Marcus turns his back to leave and FOREARM TO THE BACK OF THE SKULL! Lennox catches him with a blindsided shot and bundles him into the nearest locker head first.

Rick Walker: “THAT’S A CHEAP SHOT!!.”

Matt finds it hilarious and steps over the fallen body of The Black Knight, with his ring bag, ready to exit the building. Marcus may of made the challenge but he didn’t expect that, which means next week on Afterburn, Lennox is going to have an angry Knight on his hands.



Many heated words had already been exchanged by the time these two men hit the ring and when they did, it was a drag out brawl. The bell sounded and they went straight at each other with fierce right hands, brawling across the ring until Famous Clotheslined Zeek to the outside. Of course he followed and was caught, slammed into the barricade and then levelled with kicks. Wrestling didn’t take part in this contest as Williams launched Famous head first into the steel ring post.

The referee came to the outside and gave up on the count, quickly realizing that this would end in a disqualification if he wasn’t careful. The RIP City Saint pummelled Ed up the entrance ramp, only for Famous to Drop Toe Hold him face first on the steel ramp. Ed stomped away at him before pulling him back to his feet and connecting with a Snap Suplex. Both men writhed in agony before Ed dragged him to the ring and rolled him inside.

Famous finally covered… One…. Two… KICK OUT! Somehow the tough as nails Williams managed to kick out and the match was suddenly afoot again. Both men got back to their feet, Zeek connecting with some clever Muay Tai strikes, running to ropes, leaping off the middle and SPRINGBOARD KNEE!! THE SILENCER!! GOODNIGHT ED FAMOUS! The RIP City Saints covers… One…. Two… Three!! What a victory and what a war of words. These two just tore up Afterburn but it’s Zeek Williams heading to the final eight.



The fans are on their feet and rightfully so as an impressive glass case with a velvet red cloth sits in the middle of the ring. Richard Roman is up from commentary and standing with it, a big grin on his moustached face as he begins to talk.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we hope you’ve been enjoying the show,” he says to a big cheer from the crowd.“Good, good. Tonight, I have been placed in charge of revealing the OSW World Heavyweight Championship. As you by now know there is a tournament comprised of sixteen competitors here tonight and they’re all fighting for the gold underneath this cloth.”

“LET US SEE IT!” clap clap clap. “LET US SEE IT!” clap clap clap.

Rick Walker: “I think he’d better hurry up.”

“Okay, so without further ado-“

Suddenly the hyped up beginning of Lil Wayne’s “Watch My Shoes” interrupts, the legendary rapper spitting game immediately, working the crowd into an immediate stir. Pyrotechnics fire off as Marvellous Master Chef steps out from the back with a skillet in one hand, a middle finger lifted by the other.

Rick Walker: “Uhm…”

He lays the skillet down on the entrance ramp and humps it for a bit, before picking it up and running to the ring. After sliding under the ropes, he stands opposite Roman, who doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“What can I do for you?” Roman asks, stepping forward with confidence.

SKILLET TO THE SKULL! Where the hell did that come from? Marvellous Master Chef suddenly reacts, whacking poor Roman in the skull with his skillet. He quickly rushes over to the Championship case and whips off the red velvet covering, placing it around his neck as if a cape.

Rick Walker: “I think Roman had better get the hell out of there.”

Suddenly, SKILLET TO THE GLASS CASE! The skillet crashes straight through it, making the Championship readily available and MMC doesn’t even hesitate before yanking the belt out and turning to run.

Rick Walker: “Hold on a second, he can’t do that! Somebody stop him! He’s trying to steal the OSW World Heavyweight Championship!”

The opening riff from “Open Your Eyes” blares throughout the arena, the lights strobe along to the music. Dave steps out from behind the curtain with a microphone, trying to slow this up pretty quickly.

“Cut the music, cut it!” he yells successfully. “Now whoa, hold your horses there cookie,” Dave says with a hand raised. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to steal the OSW World Heavyweight Championship, am I right?”

Rick Walker: “Don’t state the obvious, just stop him!”

Marvellous nods enthusiastically.

“I have to be honest with you, it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it done. I’ll give you an A+ for enthusiasm but a D- for creativity,” Dave says to a crowd chuckle whilst heading down the ramp towards the ring. “So being that we’re both still in the tournament and both still within a shot of winning that thing, I’d ask you to put it back. You see, when I win the tournament and collect my Championship, I don’t want to be picking pieces of burrito off of it for the foreseeable future.”

By now DTR has rolled under the bottom rope and entered the ring. He looks down at Richard Roman who’s holding his head in pain and smirks.

“The seventies called, they want their moustache back,” The Rattlesnake comments to a rapturous ovation of cheers. “Now look Chef, I don’t want to have to take it from you and put it back but if I have to, I’m going to. So how about you save us both the throw down and simply pop it back inside that case and we’ll be on our way.”

The Chef sighs a big puff of air before turning around and facing the case.

“That’s a good-“



Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ! This animal is out of control!”

Master Chef clocks him hard with the belt and before you know it, DTR is spark out on the canvas in dreamland. With the fans booing, The Marvellous One throws the title through the ropes, spreads his arms out in celebration and the finally exits the ring, grabbing the World Championship and making his way backstage.

Rick Walker: “Someone needs to stop him now! He’s stealing the OSW World Title!”



Desmond Cross and Hayden Hardkore locked up straight away in this one, Desmond taking him back to the ropes before sending him across the ring and connecting with a Clothesline on the return. Quickly he pounced back off into the ropes, Hardkore rolling under him as he jumped and popping back up, catching him on the turn with a Hip Toss. The Kiki headed to the ropes, leaping onto the middle andHURRICANRANNA! He covers almost instantly.. One… Two.. Kick Out! Hayden hops back to his feet and heads to the top rope, leaping off and DIVING HEADBUTT !NO-BODY HOME!!

Cross somehow moved out of the way and is back to his feet, grabbing The Kiwi and levelling him with numerous punches before scooping him up and driving him down to the mat with a Powerslam. He covers.. One… Two.. Kick Out! Both men roll away but it’s The Messiah’s Messenger who this time heads up top and when Hayden gets up.. LEAPING CLOTHESLINE! BOOM! He got all of it. Again into the cover.. One… Two… THREE! KICK OUT! “Ohhhh” cheer the fans as Cross nearly had it. Desmond is looking to finish this now and pulls Hardkore up – kick to the gut, F-5! AMAZING GRACE!! NO!! Hayden spins out and drops down behind him.. HIGH ANGLE BACK DROP!!

The Flying Kiwi covers… One…. Two…THR-NO! That’s not going to do it. He begins winding up his left hand to a buzzing “OOOOHHHHH” from the crowd and when Desmond gets back to his feet – POWER OF THE SOUTHPAW! A CRACKING LEFT HAYMAKER THAT COULD’VE BROKE HIS JAW! Cross falls flat on his back and Hayden leaps to the top rope like an agile cat, only to steady himself then leap with a Moonsault turned half barrel roll into a SWANTON BOMB!! THE FLYING KIWI! NOOOO!! DESMOND MOVES! The impact is so severe that Cross pulls him straight to his feet, kick to the gut.. THE REDEEMING!! CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB!! INTO THE COVER… ONE…. TWO…. THREE!! Desmond Cross is going to the final eight!



We’re just moments away from the Main Event when we head backstage to see Ed Famous and Zeek Williams beating the holy hell out of each other. They brawl across the backstage area, bouncing off walls and pillars as they struggle to try and gain the upper hand. Ed finally releases, backing up with a kick to the gut, only to grab Zeek and run him HEAD FIRST INTO A WALL!

Richard Roman: “What a shot!”

Rick Walker: “We need security back there to break this up as soon as possible.”

Williams falls to the floor in a heap and is visibly busted wide open but Ed doesn’t appear to be finished. He stomps away at him before walking off and grabbing himself a steel chair. He places it over Zeek’s throat and takes a seat, lording over him.

“It isn’t that I’m a sore loser, I hope you understand,” Ed says catching his breath. “It’s just that I don’t like you very much, Ezekiel.”

Richard Roman: “You don’t say?”

Rick Walker: “You could tell by their match earlier that this one wasn’t going to be settled so quickly.”


Rick Walker: “ENOUGH, DAMNIT!”

Security suddenly storm across to break it up, dragging Famous away as others attend to poor Williams. One can only imagine that as soon as Zeek is able, there will be hell to pay for this.

Rick Walker: “I’m telling you right now, there’s going to be a match between these two soon and when there is, they’re going to tear the house down.”

Richard Roman: “Good riddance to bad rubbish, is what I say.”



The bell sounds and the instantaneous brawl begins, all eight of these tired stars getting into the mix as quickly as possible. Mike Lane and John Pathlow end up on the outside whilst Lord Richard Merriweather rushes off to hide by the announce tables. The Black Knight and Waldo The Clown meet in the middle of the ring to slug it out and Hayden Hardkore takes is to Matthew Cories as Ed Famous gets himself a steel chair. The One Man Rebellion enters the ring, swinging the chair for the back of Cories, then for the head of Hayden, taking both men to the canvas. He pops down into the cover… One… Two… Cories kicks out.

Our first Champion was nearly crowned right there but on the outside, John Pathlow has been rattled into the steel steps – sending both them and he flying. Mike Lane is the man with a plan and is of course looking to send a direct message to the American Capitalists here tonight. He goes under the ring and reaches for a table, setting that bad boy up on the outside before Waldo The Clown comes over to interfere. Waldo slams his head off the table and drags him back to the barricade, slamming him back first into that as well. The Black Knight on the other hand is back to his feet in the ring and storms across the ring, launching himself to the outside and LANDING STRAIGHT ONTOP OF WALDO AND LANE!

“Holy Shit!” chants break out as all three men lay crumpled on the floor. It’s then that Lord Merriweather shows up out of no-where, diving into the cover on Waldo.. One… Two… THREE!! We have our first Hardcore Champion! The fan’s can’t believe it and boo’s echo out around the arena as Merriweather takes a hike and storms off up the entrance ramp. Ed Famous meanwhile spots him and is quickly in pursuit, accompanied by John Pathlow. Only the Champion can be pinned for the belt to change hands and that makes Merriweather a marked man with ten minutes left on the clock.

The brawl is now backstage and that’s where both Stephen and Edward wait for their boss and open a limousine door for him to hop inside. They quickly turn around to tend to Famous and Pathlow who in turn, immediately start brawling with the security team. The limousine is about to speed off when Hayden Hardkore appears in front of it with a lead pipe – causing it to come to a crashing halt. Hayden starts beating the holy shit out of the limo with his pipe and that’s when Merriweather escapes, running into a giant JUMPING REVERSE ROCK BOTTOM! RIGHT ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR! THE BLACKOUT!! The Black Knight nails him and now he’s into the cover.. One…. Two… THREE! A second Hardcore Champion with only five minutes left on the clock. Marcus grabs his Championship and rushes back towards the ring, hoping to escape the melee of brawling happening backstage.

When he arrives there, he rushes through the curtain only to walk into Waldo The Clown and RED MIST!!The Knight stumbles backwards holding his eyes, giving Waldo the chance to SNATCH HIS TITLE AND CRACK HIM IN THE SKULL WITH IT! WHAT A SHOT!! Waldo drops into the cover… One… Two… THREE!!We’ve a new Hardcore Champion! There’s about three minutes left and The Clown struts back to the ring, dancing along the way as the fans boo, clearly not impressed. It’s then that Hayden Hardkore comes barrelling out from behind the curtain with his led pipe, CRASHING IT OVER WALDO’S HEAD! The fans roar and we’re about to have our fourth Hardcore Champion… One… Two… Three! Hayden takes the Championship belt and runs back to the ring, sliding in and immediately looking to protect himself.

What he doesn’t realize is that from behind comes Mike Lane with a steel chair. Hayden spins to catch him, receiving the steel chair thrown at him for his troubles – to which he catches.. SHADOWKICK!! SHADOWKICK TO THE STEEL AND TO THE FACE OF HAYDEN FOR HIS TROUBLES!! Lane drops into the cover as the final fifteen seconds appear on the clock. One…. Two…. Three! We’ve a new Hardcore Champion and surely that’s it, surely. Lane barely has a chance to get back to his feet though before Matthew Cories rushes him with a LEAPING INVERTED STO!! CHUMBAWAMBA!! HE NAILED IT! HE HAS FOUR SECONDS TO COVER AND DOES… ONE… TWO… THREE! THE BELL SOUNDS ONE SECOND LATER AND MATTHEW CORIES IS OUR NEW HARDCORE CHAMPION!



Matthew Cories is back to his feet holding the Hardcore Championship high into the air, clearly pleased with what is a phenomenal victory here tonight – one that he damn near stole after staying ringside for a majority of the match. The fans though are on their feet with applause until suddenly, the arena goes dark.

Rick Walker: “What the hell is going on?”

Richard Roman: “I can’t see a thing, can you?”

The arena is suddenly thrust into darkness as the sounds of squawking crows can be heard. They flutter away and the lights turn back on, revealing the Scarecrow standing in the middle of the ring, his arms spread and his head lowered.

Rick Walker: “Holy shit! What the hell is that?”

Richard Roman: “That’s the thing nightmares are made of!!”

Matthew doesn’t even spot him at first, turning around to see Scarecrow stood behind him, his head lowered. He almost falls down at first but before you know it and quite literally out of no-where, Scarecrow snaps his arm out and hand around the throat of Cories, lifting him high into the air andCHOKESLAM!! THE HARVESTER!!


Richard Roman: “Why!? What’s going on here?”

Cories crashes into the canvas with an enormous thud and stays there as Scarecrow spreads his arms again and the lights go off. When they return, he’s no-where to be seen and the crowd have no idea what to make of it.

It’s then that we fade to black.