“What would you do if you had to face the impossible?”
“If the very thing you loved, could also kill you.”
“Would you fight to live?”
The sound of a flatlining heart monitor switches to the faces of DTR, Fate, Desmond Cross and Marvellous Master Chef, all brawling last week on Afterburn in the middle of the ring as “Lifeline” by Papa Roach plays us in.
“When I was a boy
I didn’t care about a thing
It was me and this world and a broken dream
I was blaming myself
For all that was goin’ wrong!”
MMC smashes the Championship case and steals the belt, being hunted down by DTR who can’t seem to get it back. Fate and Desmond Cross are face to face before Desmond gets nailed with a Belly to Belly Suplex.
“I was way out there
On the wrong side of town
And the ones that I loved
I started pushing ’em out
Then I realised
That it was all my fault.”
Brent Kersh is now brawling with Scarecrow, Scarecrow ramming him head first into the set. He then hits him with a devastating Haymaker and we see Kersh running up the entrance ramp towards where the Nightmare was standing, only to find nothing but a broken clock. The final shot is of Brent nervously searching the dark for The Scarecrow.
“I’ve been looking for a lifeline
For what seems like a lifetime
I’m drowning in the pain
Breaking down again
Looking for a lifeline”
Marcus X drills Matt Lennox into the stage with a Blackout, then spray paints a black X on him. Isaiah Black hits Colt .45 with a steel chair and Hayden Hardkore slams Professor Bordeaux through his own white board.
“So I put out my hand
And I asked for some help
We tore down the walls I built around myself
I was struck by the light
And I fell to the ground.”
Finally the heart monitor sound returns, drowning out “Lifeline” by Papa Roach.
WHAM! BOOM! PEW PEW! Fireworks explode from the stage as we take an arena wide view of the cheering crowd here tonight at the BB&T Centre. The camera finishes circling the audience and stops at ringside where our commentary team are happily waiting to kick off this, our inaugural Pay Per View!
“Fans, welcome to the inaugural OSW Pay Per View! We’re welcoming you to Flatline here tonight, where we’ve an amazing show in store for you. I’m Rick Walker and alongside me is Richard Roman. Richard, we have everything from the boss as a special referee to a fatal four way Main Event for the World Heavyweight Championship. ”
“The United States Championship is also on the line, as is the Hardcore title and you know what? How about that announcement about the All-Star Championship earlier this week? How many minds are going to be on that?”
“That’s right and – hold on a second folks, I’m being told that we’re going straight backstage.”
We head quickly to the parking garage where Lord Richard Merriweather is entering the arena a little more surrounded than usual. With him on this occasion is two large orderlies carrying a straight jackets. They head down the corridor and towards the locker room of Rick Mad.
Lord Richard Merriweather:
“Okay gentlemen, remember that this guy is extremely mad, alright?”
He’s about to knock the door when it suddenly opens – Rick Mad standing there with a barbed wire bat in hand.
Merriweather and the orderlies scurry backwards, Richard somewhat hiding behind them.
Lord Richard Merriweather:
“Look Richard, I’ve come to help.”
“This guy is a joke and he’ll do anything not to compete here tonight.”
“Oh come on Rick, he’s just trying to help poor Rick Mad overcome his anger problems.”
“Help? You’re a coward, man. You don’t want to fight me tonight so you’ve brought the cavalry to try and have me what? Sectioned?”
Lord Richard Merriweather:
“You know that it isn’t like that, don’t you? I could fight you and beat you but what kind of man would that make me? I’m not going to do that, I’m going to help you instead.”
Rick smiles and puts his bat down, knowing something that Merriweather doesn’t.
“You don’t have to help me, but I will help you. You see, I’ve spoken to Errol Flint and it would seem that I’m not the only one who wants you to fight. He’s told me that if you don’t compete tonight, you’re fired.”
“Oh boy, that’ll change the landscape somewhat!”
“He can’t do this! Lord Merriweather isn’t ready to compete tonight, look at him, this has come as a complete and utter shock!”
“He knew he was scheduled to fight, Double R. He just thought he could get away with it.”
Merriweathers mouth understandably drops.
And why wouldn’t it? He backs off his crew and tells them to stand down.
Lord Richard Merriweather:
“Hold off gentlemen, hold off. Please Rick, let’s not be hasty, okay?”
Mad shrugs his shoulders and with a smile, heads back into his locker room. The fans roar in celebration, finally going to see this coward get his just desserts here tonight.
TYLER BROOKS VS. CAPTAIN ONE-EYED WILLY
“What you got, what you want, what you need.. GONNA BE YOUR SAVIOR!” As the lights dim, the thousands of fans in attendance began to roar. “Savior” by Skillet blares over the P.A. system as Tyler Brooks emerges through the curtains under pulsating stage lights. At the top of the ramp, The Savior of the Wrestling Industry would stop, throwing his arms out to strike a pose for the crowd. The roars becoming deafening, Brooks shot down the ramp in a full SPRINT, sliding into the ring. Without missing a beat, he rushed the corner he would make his own for the night, leaping up onto the middle rope to throw his arms out to his sides once more.
“The following contest is set for one fall. Entering first, weighing in tonight at 200lbs, hailing from Miama Florida, he is the Saviour, TYYYYLLLLLEERRR BROOOKKKKSSS!”
“This match came about out of no-where this week.”
“But it’s one hell of a way to kick off a Pay Per View.”
“You Are A Pirate” by Alestorm blares into the arena and Captain One-Eyed Willy swings into the scene and entrance ramp, dropping from a rope with a big grin on his face. He pulls out a flask of rum and sips from it whilst heading to the ring.
“This guy is an interesting man to say the least.”
“The OSW is full of them.”
“And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 224lbs, hailing from Nassau, Bahamas, he is the Captain, ONNNNEEE EYYYYYEEEDDD WILLLLLYYYYY!”
As soon as the bell rings, Tyler Brooks rushes forward, landing several hard kicks to the body staggering the Pirate. Brooks whips Willy to the ropes, landing a savage Spinning Wheel Kick on the rebound, Brooks trying to make a statement in his first match in OSW. Willy slowly gets up to his feet, getting several forearms to the face for his trouble before Brooks spikes him down onto the mat with a Flipping Neckbreaker. Brooks signals for the end, urging Willy to get to his feet, YOUR FORET …No, Willy saw it coming and rolled out of the ring wisely, buying himself some time from the Saviour’s onslaught. Willy turns around just as Brooks leaps over the ropes, a huge Pescado wiping Willy out on the floor.
Brooks wastes no time, pulling the pirate up to his feet, landing several savage kicks that wind the bigger man before a Leaping Muay Thai Kick staggers Willy, as he grabs onto the ringpost for support. Brooks sets him up, possibly trying for a spinning heel kick, Brooks leaps up, WILLY MOVES! Willy drops down and Brooks left leg impacts on the steel, the Saviour dropping to the ground in pain. The Captain wastes no time, pulling Brooks up to his feet and rolling him into the ring. Willy rolls in himself, landing a savage kneedrop to the injured leg as Brooks cries out in pain. Willy hooking the left leg for the cover.. ONE…TWO…KICKOUT!
Brooks kicks out but the kickout seemed to do more damage as Willy doesn’t let up, dropping down with a knee to the injured leg and wrapping it up with a leglock submission. Brooks screams out in pain as Willy puts as much pressure as possible, trying to take out the left leg even further. Willy lets go of the hold, lifting up the injured Brooks by the left knee and slamming it into the canvas, causing Brooks to scream out in pain. Willy tries for another leglock but Brooks begins to fight out, landing several right hands that stagger the Pirate as the Saviour tries to get to his feet. A hard right hook drops the Captain to one knee as Brooks bounces off the ropes trying for something but halfway there, his left knee gives out on him as the Captain takes advantage, delivering a low dropkick that sends Brooks to the mat in pain
Willy wastes no time, dropping down and locking in the Terror on the High Seas, as Brooks screams out in pain. Willy torques back, trying his hardest to make Brooks tap out but he refuses, clawing and scratching his way to the ropes. Willy pulls back, as Brooks screams in pain from the hold, but finds the strength to lunge forward and manages to grab the bottom rope, forcing the break. Willy breaks the hold reluctantly as he signals for the end, urging Brooks up to his feet. Brooks slowly gets up, SPINNING ELBOW! That huge elbow caught Willy flush on the jaw and this may be the Saviour’s chance to regroup here. Whilst that’s happening, the Titantron flashes – showing Mother of all people, before disappearing in another split second.
Both men slowly get to their feet as they begin to exchange right hands, Brooks somehow getting the best of the Captain as he begins to fire up, a huge right dropping the Captain, Willy gets up and somehow Brooks gets him off his feet with an impressive Snap Suplex. Brooks shakes his left leg out, the pain still radiating through it but he fights past the pain, backing up and landing an incredible Shining Wizard as the Captain gets to his feet. Signalling for the end, Brooks urges Willy to his feet, seemingly going for the Your Foretold Destiny again. Willy gets to his feet as Brooks leaps up but his left knee goes out on him again, dropping him down to one knee. Willy takes advantage, pulling Brooks up to his feet, SHIPWRECKED! That huge C-4 landing flush and this may be it for Brooks as Willy hooks the leg for the cover.. ONE…TWO…THREE!! ‘You Are a Pirate’ by Alestorm plays as the crowd cheers for the Captain’s victory, the referee holding up his hand in victory as the Captain looks down on the defeated Tyler Brooks. The Captain pulls Brooks up to his feet, and after a tentative few moments, shakes his hand and holds up his hand to the roar of the crowd. Brooks and the Captain walk down to the ramp together to the cheers from the crowd as they head to the back, both with a new found respect for one another.
I’LL TAKE THAT
The parking garage is a lot quieter than usual as Marvellous Master Chef attempts to sneak his way into the arena with the World Heavyweight Championship.
Hey look, it’s our World Heavyweight Champion.
That’s no Champion Richard, that’s a thief.
When Chef opens the entrance door, he’s quickly bombarded by upwards of ten security, who storm out into the garage and blockade the door, as well as surround MMC.
Then Errol Flint steps out too.
I’ll take that, thank you very much.
He points to the World Championship that Master Chef now hugs closely.
MMC looks towards the belt, then towards Errol and finally behind him as the security force closes in.
Marvellous Master Chef:
Errol, mi amigo, senior, please..
WHACK! Suddenly Chef is attacked from behind and sent sprawling to the floor with the World Title.
It’s DTR! DTR quickly rushes after him, swinging and kicking as the team of security desperately try to stop him.
That’s not the best timing!
ENOUGH! STOP IT GOD DAMNIT! LET HIM GO!
The command – shouted loudly by the boss is enough to stop what’s almost turned into a mass brawl. When they finally separate and get a little distance, they realize that Marvellous Master Chef is no-where to be seen and they’ve simply been fighting each other.
WHERE THE HELL IS HE!?
Standing behind them all at the entrance is a grinning Chef holding the World Championship in the air as if he’s just won it again. Errol looks enraged as he storms off into the building, ready for a game of hide and seek.
GOD DAMNIT, GO AND GET HIM!
The security force rush off into the arena after MMC whilst DTR realizes he probably just stopped the belt from being returned. He looks up at the roof, frustrated, as the scene fades out.
Our World Champion retains, what a victory.
Are you kidding me? That guy just stole the title yet again and you’re praising him as if he’s won it? Tonight, one of four men will hold that title and you know what? I don’t have any doubt in my mind that it won’t be him.
LORD MERRIWEATHER VS. RICK MAD
Well, our next bout will feature Lord Merriweather (if he actually competes) who speaks with money, and Rick Mad, who showed last week that money is no object to him!
What do you mean, if he actually competes? Lord Merriweather has no reason to fear Rick Mad or his foolish pride!
The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Philadelphia Pennsylvania! Weighing in at 6’7, 260 pounds! He is… RICK. MAAAAAAADDD!!!!!!!
The lights dim and A Guitar and a Heart by M83 hits. The crowd lets out some cheers as green pyro rocks the stage and the lights come back on. Rick Mad steps out from the back, looking around and gauging the reaction before nodding to himself and heading towards the ring. He slaps the hands of any fans offering them, then slides in. He climbs up one turnbuckle while green pyro fires off from the other three.
And his opponent, from Buckinghamshire, England… weighing in at 6’2′, 245 pounds. He is The First Class… LORD. RICHARD. MERRRRRRRRRRRIWEATHERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!
The beautiful flow of O Fortuna 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.
However, it seems that Lord Merriweather has made a last minute decision to not compete. He explains to the referee that he won’t be participating tonight. The fans boo loudly, raining heat down upon the rich Lord Merriweather. Rick Mad is shouting at Merriweather, but Merriweather merely turns and begins walking back up the entrance ramp. Suddenly though the fans pop wildly, forcing Merriweather to turn back toward the ring and BAM!!! MISSILE DROPKICK FROM THE TOP ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE!!!Mad is back on his feet, lifting up Merriweather and rolling him into the ring! The bell sounds as Mad follows behind him. Rick reaches his feet first and puts a boot right into Merriweather’s knee, and then proceeds to level the First Class with boot, after boot, after boot! Merriweather scrambles away from Mad as he takes those shots, until he tangles himself up in the ropes, forcing the referee to break up Mad’s assault.
Mad turns around and lifts his arms in the air at the crowd, who eat it up and lather one of OSW’s greatest veteran performers with praise. SCHOOLBOY PIN FROM MERRIWEATHER!!! HANDS FULL OF TIGHTS!1…KICKOUT! Mad leaps to his feet as Merriweather once again begins backpedaling on the mat from his bum. Mad points at Merriweather, whose eyes widen like a gazelle in the face of a lion. He tries to escape but is caught by Mad before he reaches the ropes. Mad lifts him up by the hair he has left. Release German Suplex! Good god, Merriweather was flung all the way across the ring!
But Rick isn’t done by any means. He climbs to the top ropes. Lord Merriweather is meanwhile embarrassing himself, flopping around much like a fish as he tries to dizzily reach his feet. And, upon doing so? TORNADO FUCKING DDT!!! MERRIWEATHER’S HEAD BOUNCES LIKE A BASKETBALL OFF OF THE FUCKING MAT!!! The fans are chanting, “LET’S GO RICK! LET’S GO RICK! LET’S GO RICK!” Rick makes the pin! One… Two… THRE–NO!!! What the hell!?! One of Merriweather’s bodyguards just placed his ankle on the bottom rope, narrowly avoiding a loss for his boss! Roman says something in the commentary about that bodyguard earning a raise just before Mad baseball slide kicks the bodyguard into the guard rail!!!
It’s the Rick Mad show ladies and gents! Come one, come all, watch the veteran put on a clinic in the art of professional wrestling! He lifts Merriweather to his feet and whips the First Class into the ropes. Rick bounces off the otherside! CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL! MERRIWEATHER DOES A SHOOTING STAR PRESS IN MID-FUCKING AIR DUE TO THE IMPACT AND LANDS ON HIS BACK!!! Mad seems about finished. And he might could finish Merriweather off with the 3 count, but he has one thing left he wants to do. Lord Richard Merriweather is dragged to his feet sloppily, barely conscious! MAD DDT!!! THE FANS ERUPT!!! RICK MAKES THE COVER!!!
…BUT THE REFEREE IS DISTRACTED!!! One of Merriweather’s bodyguards is trying to get in the ring! The referee is doing everything he can to stop it. Rick starts to walk over when he is spun around by the other bodyguard. WHACK!!! STEEL FUCKING CHAIR TO MAD’S CRANIUM!!! MAD FALLS!!! HE IS NAILED AGAIN OVER THE HEAD!!! The referee is still distracted as the bodyguard tosses the chair over the ropes and drags Merriweather’s body over to Mad, draping his arm over Mad’s unconscious body. The bodyguard slides out of the ring. The other steps down from the apron. The referee turns to see Merriweather pinning Mad! He drops to his knees! One… Two… THREE!!!!
“O Fortuna” hits the speakers and the crowd is outraged by the injustice. Some throw trash toward the ring as Merriweather’s bodyguards wake him up. After stirring to his feet, Merriweather realizes he has won! He begins jumping up and down, spry enough for an old sport, and then falls to his knees. Tears of joy and accomplishment stream down his face as the fans approach nearly riotous levels of hatred for the First Class.
As Isaiah Black sits on the bench and adjusts the laces on his boots, he can’t help but smile when thinking about how turned about he has Colt 45 over the past few weeks.
Then his smile is wiped from his face.
CRUNCH! A steel chair suddenly strikes him on the top of his head, knocking him backwards over the bench and to the floor. The wielder? Colt 45.
“Ya think I’mma sit back and take that you stupid sumbitch?”
“What a chairshot!”
“That asshole just blindsided him!”
He taps the chair and smirks.
“Don’t forget yours, son. Our match is a chairs match, if ya got the balls, ya mealy mouthed bastard!”
Colt storms out of the locker room, feeling redeemed after what must have been a difficult few weeks. Meanwhile Isaiah Black rolls over, chuckling to himself, checking his head for blood as if he’s proud of what’s transpired.
“And folks, that match is up next!”
COLT 45 VS. ISAIAH BLACK
I’m nervously anticipating this next contest.
Stop being such a baby, Walker.
What? I just said I was nervous, but I AM anticipating it.
So are Colt 45 and Isaiah Black!
I can’t argue with that and they will meet in what is being called, a “Chairs Match” which simply means …
You’re allowed to swing ‘em.
Absolutely and it all started with Isaiah Black blasting Colt 45 with a chair a couple weeks ago on Afterburn. Well, Colt followed that attack up earlier tonight with one of his own and we find ourselves here.
Enough jabbin’ Walker. Let’s turn it over to Paloma and get this thing started!
Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall and it is a CHAIRS MATCH!!!!
The crowd erupts with excitement at the sound of the announcement, when “Big Gun” by AC/DC blares throughout the arena and a chorus of boos is heard.
Introducing first from Amarillo, Texas … he stands at a height of six feet one inch and weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds … he is “The Smokin’ Gun” … COLT, FORTY FIVE!!!
And there he is!
And oh my God he already has a chair in his hand. Along with a beer of course!
Colt 45 takes a final swig before tossing the can into the crowd as he makes his way down the entrance ramp and towards the ring.
I guess there’s no rule stating you can’t bring a chair to the ring with you, right Richard?
Well genius, it is a “Chairs Match” afterall.
Colt 45 makes it to ringside, sliding under the bottom rope and into the ring. He immediately stands to his feet with the chair gripped in both hands looking back up at the entrance ramp. On cue, the harsh, industrial sounds of Techno Animal’s “Cruise Mode 101″ crush the airwaves as the house lights turn to a stramash of sporadic strobes.
AND HIS OPPONENT … from Chicago, Illinois … standing at six feet even and weighing two hundred three pounds … please welcome, ISAIAH BLACK!!!!
It doesn’t take long for Isaiah Black to emerge from the back, a hood pulled over his head. Black stops at the top of the ramp, bows his head, and throws his arms in the air. Fire bursts from two small, handheld flamethrowers for as long as “The Grim” can handle the scorching heat, before he drops them and stomps towards the ring.
Black on the way to ringside and wait, what is he …
HA Look at that Walker! “The Grim” just borrowed two chairs from the fans. He just one upped Colt!
We’re going to start this match with three chairs inside the ring? Is that a first?
Once at ringside, Black tosses the chairs to the padded concrete floor surrounding the ring and pulls his ragged, sleeveless hoodie overhead, ready for war.
Black picking the chairs back up and he slides into the ring.
AND HERE WE GO!
Isaiah Black comes to his feet as the Colt 45 charges. The bell sounds followed by the loud clang of the two metal chairs. The crowd explodes with excitement as “The Grim” and “The Smokin’ Gun” spar with the metal objects. Black leaves one chair behind and now they are circling the ring, meticulously picking their opportunities for attacks. Colt 45 charges and BLACK catches him with a chair to the midsection. AND a big chair shot to the back. Colt 45 goes down to the canvas and Black will NOT let up. Multiple chairs shots to the back and rib cage region of Colt. Black drops the chair and moves to the canvas for the cover. ONE … TWO … and Colt 45 will kick out.
Black pulls “The Smokin’ Gun” to his feet and with an irish whip, NO! Reversed. BLACK is sent to the corner hard AND HERE COMES COLT! CATTLE PROD! CATTLE PROD by Colt 45. That came from nowhere and now Isaiah Black is face first on the canvas. Colt is a little dazed. But he’s coming to quickly and now he’s up. He’s looking around. Looking at the crowd AND LOOKING AT THE CHAIRS!Isaiah Black is down and Colt is going for a chair. Black showing signs of life. He’s working to his hands and knees AND COLT 45lands a chair shot to the back of “The Grim”. AND another. Colt tosses the chair to the mat with authority. Now pulling Black to his feet.
NO! Black with an elbow to the gut of “The Smokin’ Gun”. And another. A knee to the midsection this time and THERE’S a big elbow from “The Grim”. Both men staggering now. Russian leg sweep by Black and both men are down, but Isaiah Black is right back up. Is he? Black is going to the corner. He’s going to the ropes! Scaling to the top. Isaiah Black INTO THE AIR and lands a splash! Into a cover. ONE … TWO … AND AGAIN, Colt 45 kicks out. Colt showing some resiliency in this one, but Black won’t be denied. He LANDS an elbow into the head of Colt. AND another. Black now pulling Colt to his feet.
No wait, Colt takes hold AND DELIVERS a belly to belly suplex. One reversal right after another and now both men are down and in trouble again. It’s going to be a race of who can get to their feet first and it looks like that will be Colt 45! But he’s measuring his man now. Waiting. Isaiah Black slow to his feet and Colt attacks! CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL! That one almost took Black’s head off and now “The Smokin’ Gun” makes a cover of his own. ONE … TWO … NO SIR! Isaiah Black is able to kick out at the last second and the match will continue! Colt 45 is going to waste no time at this point and he brings Black to his feet. German suplex? NAILED it. Into a cover. ONE … only one that time.
Colt 45 rolls off of Black and he just found himself a chair. Colt to his feet. Black is up quick, but he’s unaware and CHAIR SHOT isBLOCKED by Black! Black grabs the chair and there’s a kick to the midsection and now BLACK HAS THE CHAIR AND NAILS Colt 45. Colt falls to his butt. Isaiah Black takes advantage and quickly heads to the ropes. “THE GRAND LEVELLER”! Isaiah Black nails his finisher on Colt who may have already been knocked out. He goes for the pin. ONE … TWO … THREE! ISAIAH BLACK PULLS OUT THE VICTORY HERE AT FLATLINE! What a match!!
THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN
Matt Lennox is understandably angry after that assault and embarrassment last week. We catch up with him as he storms through the backstage area, heading straight to the locker room of Marcus X. Except when he arrives, it turns out Marcus is well prepared for his arrival. A large black security force and protesters stand around The Black Knight, protecting him.
“RACIST! THERE’S THE RACIST!”
Matt doesn’t quite know how to react.
“Brothers and sisters of the revolution, rejoice, for here is our bringer of change.”
“Are you people blinded by your own stupidity or what? This guy doesn’t care about your rights, your skin colour or your struggle. He’s a racist, just like all of you.”
That causes an uproar amongst the protesters, some of which approach Lennox and seem ready to fight.
“HE MUST BE PUNISHED!”
“And he will be tonight.”
“By who and for what? Everything I said last week was the truth. You people aren’t looked down upon because your black, you’re looked down upon because you’re lazy, you’re stupid and you’d rather use race as an excuse than actually do anything.”
“I think we may need some security of our own because this isn’t going down too well.”
The crowd begin to get more and more angry with every word he speaks. Lennox squares up to one of the closest confrontational protestors that appears to be in his face, that is until Marcus X walks past his security and stands between them.
“You know that isn’t true Matthew. You’re a example of the hatred and bigotry we go through on a daily basis. Lazy? How can we be lazy when we’re not trusted, not given opportunities or a chance. We want our freedom and we will take it – starting with you tonight. PEOPLE, please, calm yourselves. I will fight for you, I will fight for our cause and last week I showed you that tonight, X MARKS THE SPOT!”
Marcus and his crew walk off leaving Lennox looking as angry as he possibly could be.
MIKE LANE VS. THE AMERICAN CAPITOLISTS
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a two on one handicap match. Introducing first, currently residing in Hollywood, California and accompanied by the Special Guest Referee Errol Flint and Destiny… The Phoenix Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Laneeeeeeeeee!!!!”
As the opening strains of Audioslave’s Cochise echo throughout the arena, a ring of fire opens to display Mike Lane. He is clad in all white, and has his head down. As the funky beat kicks in followed by the lyrics, Lane looks up and grins as Destiny walks out from behind alongside Special Referee Errol Flint to join him. He walks with a confident stride down to the ring, ignoring the calls of the fans in the audience. A brisk jog up the steps is followed by Lane stepping between the ropes and walking to the middle of the ring to bask in the power he has brought to the ring.
“And his opponents, the team of Acid and John Pathlow, The Americannnnnnnnn CAPITALISTS!!!!!!”
The first few beats of ‘American Capitalists’ is heard followed by a unearthly laugh as the American Capitalists walk out onto the stage, Acid first followed closely by John Pathlow. Pathlow soaks up the boos as Acid stands unmoving, before Pathlow nods as the pair walk down the ramp, Pathlow taking every opportunity to rile up the fans while Acid walks down, almost robotically. Pathlow rolls into the ring, perching himself on the side, a cocky grin on his face as Acid walks into the centre of the ring, looking around for a moment before a huge blast of steam comes from his mask, spraying all around the ring. Pathlow urges Acid onto the apron as the pair watch their opponent.
“Let’s just quickly remind the fans what’s at stake here.”
“What’s at stake? Who cares. The man in charge Errol Flint is gracing us with his presence and he looks damn good in that referee shirt.”
“Let me continue. As my colleague just mentioned, Errol Flint is the special guest referee for this match pitting Mike Lane against John Pathlow and Acid. The big caveat here is if Mike Lane can somehow defeat the odds and beat the American Capitalists they’re suspended from doing business.”
“Fancy talk Rick, what’s more important is Errol Flint. My God! He might be the best special guest referee is OSW history.”
“And the first…”
“That’s why he’s the best.”
“Anyways, let’s take it back to the ring for the action.”
Pathlow and Acid decide amongst themselves as to who it’ll be starting the match out, Pathlow decides he’ll stay in the ring against Lane. They meet in the center of the ring, Pathlow having to look up at the biggest Lane while Lane wastes little time in shoving Pathlow to the mat. The fans absolutely eat it up. Pathlow gets back to his feet and right at Lane again this time the two men coming to blows, throwing absolute bombs at each other. Pathlow takes a short cut though, kicking Lane right in the shin.
Lane feels the effects of the shin kick and Pathlow drops to the canvas to deliver a steady uppercut to the throat region. Pathlow mocks Lane as he backs him into the corner. He reigns the boots into the midsection as Acid is asking for the tag. Pathlow tags in his partner and throws Lane off the ropes, Pathlow drops down as Lane hops over but Acid is waiting, Superkick connecting right to the jaw of Mike Lane!!
Acid celebrates as he makes a quick cover. Lane barely allows him to get a 1 count before kicking out.Acid goes right back on the offense though, grabbing Lane by the hair and pulling him to his feet. Once again he backs him into the corner reigning in more boots before tagging Pathlow back in, déjà vu. Pathlow and Acid work together and double team Lane before referee Errol Flint steps in to break it up. Flint rushes Acid out of the ring and Pathlow throws Lane to the floor. While on the outside, Pathlow distracts Flint and Acid takes over. He picks Lane up and throws him hard into the barricade as his entire body slams into it. Flint goes outside and yells at Acid which allows
Pathlow to slide out of the ring, he grabs a steel chair and lines up Lane, he goes for a home run swing but Mike is able to duck under it and Pathlow connects with the steel post. Lane slides back into the ring out of harm’s way. This is the opening that Mike Lane needs. Pathlow finally gets back in the ring and goes after Lane but Mike is able to scoot out, and he charges at Acid on the apron knocking him off. Pathlow rushes at Mike again throwing a wild haymaker, but Mike avoids it, waiting though he connects with a Release German Suplex!!! Mike Lane with his first big offensive move of the match.
He goes for a cover.. 1……2……No kickout at 2. Mike Lane almost beat the American Capitalists. Acid slides back in the ring now peeved at what Lane did, he charges at Lane but Mike avoids the contact. Acid connects with a SPEAR on his own teammate. That spear almost cut him in god damn half. Back to his feet, Acid comes at Mike but he’s waiting, DEGENERATION!!! Mike Lane just T-Bone suplexed Acid right out of the ring. He’s out of it. Mike stands watching John Pathlow, almost licking his chops for him to get to his feet. Mike signals with his arms as he screams at him to get up. Pathlow gets his bearings and scrambles to his feet.SHADOW KICK!!! Mike Lane connected with the Leaping Superkick. John Pathlow is out on his feet. Lane makes the cover….Errol Flint gets in position… 1…2…3. FAST COUNT BY FIYNT!!! FAST COUNT BY FLINT!!! Mike Lane wins this match tonight and the American Capitalists are suspended from doing business but the big story is the fact that Errol Flint made a fast count.
NICE TO SEE YOU
The fans are on their feet in unison, booing like crazy as Errol Flint lords over the fallen American Capitalists, a microphone in hand.
He’s not only going to rub this loss in their face but demand answers.
“I warned you, didn’t I? You must have seen this coming..”
Errol says with a big smile on his face.
“Or are you just that stupid, huh?”
♫ I need attention, feed my addiction ♫
♫ I want the action, the satisfaction ♫
♫ You have to feed me worse that I inquire ♫
♫ So my discord someday takes me higher ♫
‘Drop Dead Cynical’ hits as the crowd begin to look around each other, completely in the dark about what’s going on. Errol Flint looks towards Mike Lane, who shrugs his shoulders because not even he knows what’s going on now.
Then it happens.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
“THAT’S… OH HELL YES!”
Jensen Cussen appears on the entrance ramp with a microphone in his hand.
“That’s the former IWF Triple Crown Champion, Double R! That’s Jensen Cussen!”
“And everything has just gone to shit in the most perfect of ways!”
Errol looks at Lane and then back at Cussen, mouthing at him. “You shouldn’t here!” he moans, angrily.
A smile beams across his smug face.
“They’re not stupid Errol, in fact, they aren’t even employed by you; technically. Why do you think these guys would agree to an obvious trap, huh? Your two on one bait and switch could be seen from a mile away but ‘The Mastermind’ being behind everything, well no-one saw that coming. From the moment you turned down my contract at the beginning of March, I’ve been plotting a way to show you that I can reach you – any time, any place. Just look at what happened, eh? You refused me. You said I was a poison that would tear this company apart and all the while, I’ve been here, usurping you.
“Wait a minute, is he saying he was behind the attack?”
“Not only that but he was behind the American Capitalists as well. Jensen Cussen has set this whole thing up so that he could get us to this very point. He’s a Mastermind, Rick.”
“I’m beginning to think that poison is more apt.”
“I’ve undermined you, I’ve had you attacked, I’ve had him attacked..”
He points to Lane who kicks the ropes in a rage.
“Oh hi Mike, it’s good to see ya. I’ve been behind it all along Errol. You made the biggest mistake of your life when you refused my contract and told me to sit on the sidelines whilst men like DTR and Tyler Brooks were signed.”
Mike angrily tries to go after Cussen but Flint stops him, holding him back as Cussen continues.
“Well now you know, it was me – The Mastermind. Don’t trust reason Errol and don’t trust me.”
‘Drop Dead Cynical’ hits again as Flint and Lane look on angry, knowing that Jensen Cussen has set them up and made them look foolish here tonight.
Hayden Hardkore is backstage preparing himself for the upcoming match with a Haka – a traditional war dance. He doesn’t have the chance to finish because Professor Bordeaux interrupts him by clearing his throat.
“Excuse me young man, I would like to apologize.”
That obviously gets Hayden’s attention.
“I understand that speaking the truth about your country was insulting. I apologize that you can’t handle the truth, or being insulted.”
“That was a piss poor apology!”
“Are you serious mate?”
“I warned you last week that if you talk shit about my country, I’ll make you regret it.”
Hayden suddenly attempts to strike but Bordeaux is waiting for it, blocking the right hand and lunging forward with a headbutt. Whilst Hayden stumbles, The United States Champion pulls something out of his pocket and SPRAYS IT IN HIS FACE!
IT’S PEPPER SPRAY!
“You filthy disgusting moron!!”
“This guy is unbelievable!”
“I know, I’m impressed too!”
“I’m not impressed, I’m infuriated. He’s an absolute asshole and someone needs to take that United States Championship away from him!”
WHAM!! He clocks him with the US Championship and takes him to the floor, unconscious.
Bordeaux dusts his hands off, spitting on Hayden and then walking away, US Championship in hand.
MARCUS X VS. MATT LENNOX
Folks we have a big one for you up next.
I’ll be honest with you, I’m not exactly comfortable for your safety in this one, Ricky.
What do you mean?
The banter between Matt Lennox and Marcus X has become so racially contextual that I think things could get bad here amongst the crowd depending on what happens and if all goes to hell, I’m outta here. Who’s going to save you?
Wow I … appreciate that partner.
Just thinkin’ ahead for ya Rick.
Riiight. Let’s hand it over to Paloma for the introductions.
Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall and it is A SUBMISSION MATCH!!! Introducing first …
The instrumental sound of Bitter Sweet Symphony is heard throughout the arena, bringing a mixed reaction from the crowd.
He hails from Baltimore, Maryland … standing at a height of six feet four inches and weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds … he is “The Incredible One” … MATT LENNOX!!!!
Matt comes out to the top of the entrance ramp and does a pose showing off his muscles.
Wow, this crowd is really split, Walker.
You can cut the tension with a knife.
Lennox slowly spins around so all can see his whole body before making his way to the ring with a cocky smirk on his face, occasionally winking at random female fans lining the barricade. During his approach, golden confetti shoots out of the top of the stage into the audience. Once at ringside, “The Incredible One” climbs through the ropes, immediately heading into a corner to perform another pose in this case bringing both admiration and jeers from the Florida crowd. With that, “I’m On My Way To Freedom Land feat” by Freedom Singers blares over the loudspeakers.
And his opponent …
Here comes Marcus X.
Here comes his cronies!
People flood the stage, clapping and singing along with the Freedom Singers.
He hails from Harlem, New York … standing at six feet three inches and weighing two hundred twenty pounds … he is …. MARCUS X!!!!!
Marcus appears at the top of the ramp, wading through his sea of supporters as he makes his way down the ramp and heads towards ringside.
What was that stupid cliché you used a minute ago Walker? Something about hot butter?
You can cut the tension with a knife?
That’s it! Dumb! But that’s definitely it.
Marcus X makes his way up the steel steps and between the ropes. And we’re off. There is no love lost between these two as they both charge to the center of the ring, prompting for the ringing of the bell. An exchange of big fists follows as the sound of a roaring crowd echoes in the background. Neither man willing to give up first momentum and it looks like the match will turn into an all-out brawl before Marcus X lands a knee to the midsection, officially taking control of the early goings of the contest. Elbow to the jaw of Lennox has him reeling and Marcus X hits the ropes. On the return AND a big clothesline puts Matt to the canvas. Marcus not letting up, delivering a series of boots to the upper body and head area of his opponent, stopping for a moment to acknowledge his supporters in the crowd.
That pause; however, is just enough to give Lennox the opportunity he needed to take control and he does by landing a big right hand to the stomach of Marcus X, followed by another AND another. An elbow by “The Incredible One” bends Marcus X over before he is hoisted into a fireman’s carry! THERE IT IS! Spinning fireman’s carry from Lennox before dropping Marcus X on his back. Matt grabbing the foot of Marcus now and HE’S GOING FOR AN ANKLE LOCK, BUT NO, Marcus X using both feet to kick Lennox away. Lennox will not be denied. He RESPONDS with a drop kick to the face of Marcus as he lies on the ground. He pulls Marcus to his feet and now Lennox goes to the ropes. Here he comes, BIG SPEAR! Lennox on top and now SHIFTING INTO AN ARMBAR! NO!Marcus X is quick to the ropes!
Lennox has now attempted two times to apply a submission hold and Marcus has slipped away both times. Marcus brought to his feet and THUMB to the eye! “The Freedom Fighter” catches Lennox off guard with that one. I guess nobody really refers to Marcus as a ‘good guy’. Double axe handle to the back of Lennox by Marcus. AND another! Marcus … TIMES OF CHANGE!!! NO! Lennox slipped away and nails Marcus X with a knee of his own. Irish whip coming up here from Lennox, BUT MARCUS REVERSES into a short arm lariat and lands a devastating clothesline on “The Incredible One”. Marcus again with some boots and Lennox doing his best to duck and cover, rolling onto his stomach. Wait a second! Boston crab here from Marcus X? NO! It’s a HALF Boston Crab! Lennox is down. He’s in trouble!! In the center of the ring!! The official is asking him…
Lennox WILL NOT tap out. He will not quit and he POWERS his way out of the crab! Marcus tossed to the canvas. A little shaken. Both men working to their feet. Marcus X will get there first. He moves in and Lennox is up! LENNOX CATCHES HIM! Lennox …BELLY TO BELLY suplex and Marcus finds himself on the canvas. He knows he can’t quit now though. Hurrying to his feet. Wobby. Lennox is waiting with a SNAP suplex. Lennox with some flawless execution here late in the contest. Marcus X just keeps coming back for more. Charging. Back body flip? YES! And Marcus X is down again! Look at this! Matt Lennox … HE’S GOING TO THE ROPES! Lennox to the top turnbuckle. Marcus X is still down. He doesn’t know… FLYING ELBOW DROP!!! CONNECTS! Marcus X is in serious trouble at this point. What a move there by ‘The Incredible One’!
Matt Lennox in full control, but … wait, what is he? He’s just standing there. Matt Lennox gloating. Looking around at the crowd. He’s wasting time. He’s wasting time and Marcus X is regaining his composure!! Lennox allowing Marcus to his feet and now he moves in! TOO LATE! Marcus with an elbow to the midsection! AND again! AND again. Lennox turns to shield AND FROM BEHIND! TIMES OF CHANGE! TIMES OF CHANGE! Lennox is in the center of the ring with nowhere to go! Marcus has it locked in! AND THAT’S IT! IT’S OVER! LENNOX HAS GIVEN UP! The official is calling for the bell and Marcus X is going to win this contest!! WHAT A MATCH!
Tyler Brooks is furious that he lost his much hyped up debut match and is storming through the backstage area.
He’s abruptly stopped by Charlie Thompson who has a question for him.
Tyler, can I get a word? Please tell me you saw what happened on the Titantron tonight.
Tyler grimaces at her.
I saw it and I’ve had enough of it already. I want answers, just like you do.
Just then, walking towards him and surrounded by children is the woman in question – Mother. She stops by Brooks with a smile, looking calm as he angrily approaches her.
What the hell do you want?
A good Mother always keeps a watchful eye over her babies.
He frowns in confusion.
What? Look lady, stay the hell away from me, okay? If I see you near me again, I’ll call the cops or worse, kick your ass.
Brooks storms off to a cheer from the crowd, leaving Mother to talk to her little children.
Keep an eye on your brother, okay?
The children smirk.
Brother? Is she crazy?
Run along, Mother knows best.
The children scurry off down the corridor as Mother looks on with a pleased expression.
911 VS. MATTHEW CORIES
“The following contest is set for one fall, and is for the OSW Hardcore Championship and will be a LOSER LEAVES OSW Match.”
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. 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.
“This following match came about under interesting..”
“Circumstances. Both men are fans of The Power Rangers and as I hear it, this match has also been classed a LOSER LEAVES OSW Match!”
“So one of these idiots will be gone come the end of the match? That works for me.”
“Entering first, the challenger, weighing in tonight at 222lbs, hailing from Seattle, Washington, he is the White Ranger…NINNNNEEE OOOONNNNNEE ONNNNNEEE!”
TGIF by The Secret Handshake starts playing over the P.A. system , bringing fans to their feet. Matthew Cories walks out on the top of the ramp in a Bayside Tigers varsity letter jacket, the hardcore championship strapped tight around his waist. He high fives the fans as he makes his way to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope. He gets to his feet, handing his jacket over to the time keeper at ringside.
“It’s white vs. Green here at Flatline!”
“Oh give it a rest.”
“And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 223lbs, from Bayside California, he is the current and only two time Hardcore Champion, the Fresh Prince of Wrestling, and the Green Ranger, MATTTHHHHEEWWW CORRRRIIIEESSS!”
Cories hands the Hardcore Championship over to the referee as 911 rushes him from behind with a clothesline, taking the champ down hard. The White Ranger follows up with a few hard stomps on the prone Cories, before pulling him up, and throwing him towards the ropes. As Cories bounces off, he’s launched into the air with a Backdrop but Cories manages to land on his feet. 911 turns around right just as Cories bounces off the other side, and lands a huge Knee to the skull of 911. 911 seems done but Cories forgoes the cover, picking up his ranger foe and throws him to the floor below. The White Ranger slowly gets to his feet as Cories rushes across the ring, SUICIDE DIVE! Cories impacted hard with 911 who gets slammed hard into the barricade. Cories screams out a loud Wooo! to the delight of the crowd as he pulls 911 to his feet, dropping him down onto the concrete with a Swinging Neckbreaker as he drops down for the cover.. ONE…TWO…KICKOUT!
Cories picks up 911 once more who pokes Cories in the eyes, causing him to lose his hold on his rival, A sudden Spinning Heel Kick drops Cories as 911 tries to find a weapon. Grabbing a steel chair from the timekeeper, 911 brandishes it high, running forward to nail Cories SUPERKICK! Cories leapt to his feet and kicked that steel chair right into 911’s face and even through the mask, we can see he’s been busted wide open. Cories looks down at the busted open 911 and shrugs with a goofy grin on his face as a ‘Did I Do That?’ is heard from that 90’s guy. Cories pulls 911 to his feet, rolling him into the ring as he grabs the steel chair. Putting it into a seating position, Cories whips 911 off the ropes, drop toeholding him into the steel chair, as even more blood begins to flow from the White Ranger. Cories signals for the end as he backs up, waiting for 911 to get to to his knees, SHINING WIZ…NO! 911 blocks the move, tripping Cories up and in one swift motion, locks in the Monkey Wrench. Cories is in terrible pain, as he tries valiantly to claw his way to the ropes but he’s locked in the middle of the ring and 911 is refusing to let him move.
Cories tries to power out but he can’t find the strength, as slowly but surely, the hold begins to affect him as he begins to pass out from the pain. The referee holds up Cories arm ONE…It drops a first time as the referee holds it up a second time.. TWO… It drops a second time, but as the referee holds it up a third time, strange music begins to play from the titantron, a flute like melody that sounds almost like the call of the Dragonzord…THR…NO! Cories arm shoots high as the call of the Dragonzord has empowered the Hardcore Champion, who slowly gets to his feet with 911 on his back, falling back onto the mat forcing the hold to break. Both men get to their feet as 911 throws a right hand which is blocked, URANAGE! 911 is out on the mat as Cories springs to his feet, the strength of the Dragons flowing through him as the crowd begins to roar.
Cories signals for the end as 911 gets to his feet, CHUMBAWUMBA! That huge Inverted STO drops 911 to the mat but Cories doesn’t cover, instead getting a better idea as he rolls out of the ring and under it completely. After a minute or so, Cories rolls back out, clad in the armour of the Green Ranger. Cories gets into the ring as 911 slowly gets to his feet. The Green Ranger screams ‘It’s Morphin’ Time!’ as he lays into 911. An Elbow, another elbow, a spinning back fist, a hard headbutt which cracks the White Ranger’s mask, and finally a savage Superkick knocks 911 out on the mat. Cories doesn’t cover but climbs up to the top rope, calling out to the crowd before he leaps off, SWANTON BOMB! Cores impacts perfectly, as he spins around, hooking 911’s leg in one swift motion. ONE…TWO…THREE!!! The referee hands Cories the Hardcore Championship as the Green Ranger holds his hand up high to the delight of the crowd. He takes off the mask revealing an almost ecstatic smile on Cories face as he rolls out of the ring, slapping hands with the fans in celebration as he heads to the back after a hard fought victory.
The hallway backstage.
Charlie Thompson is stood by with Brent Kersh – The Enforcer, just moments before he goes to war with The Scarecrow.
“Brent, tonight it has been said that you’re facing one of the biggest challenges of your long and storied career. How does it make you feel when people suggest that your time is up?”
Brent smiles wryly.
“You know Charlie, some people ask me how I keep going. I’m not getting any younger and I’ve been doing this a long time. I tell them it takes a driving force, a determination, a goal. I’ve a lot of those, even at this stage of my career. Do you know what the driving force is for me right now? It’s people saying that my time is up. That my time is coming to an end.”
“Scarecrow is a terrifying opponent, but you seem to be confident here tonight. Why is that?”
“It’s because I’ve done this before, Charlie. I’m not a wet behind the ears rookie and it doesn’t matter how terrifying Scarecrow is, I can’t afford to be afraid out there. If he’s threatening to end my career, end my life, by suggesting my time is up then I don’t have any choice but to fight.”
He turns to the camera, a look of intense focus in his eyes.
“I mean what I say when I say, The Enforcer will fight until I can fight no more. My time isn’t up and the clock will keep ticking.”
Brent nods at Charlie with a thank you and heads off in the direction of the ring. As he walks away, the lights flicker and shut off.
When they return, The Scarecrow stands there, perched with his arms spread.
Then he awakes.
“This match is going to be unbelievable.”
“For Kersh it’s going to be the end of the line, that’s what it’s going to be..”
His growl causes the lights to shut off again and when they return, Charlie Thompson is alone, utterly terrified.
SCARECROW VS. BRENT KERSH
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall!”
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.
“The fans are on their feet here tonight for Brent Kersh but the question on all of their minds is whether or not he can beat The Scarecrow.”
“Well The Scarecrow is currently undefeated and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so much as sock him in his mouth yet. I just hope that ambulance from Afterburn #1 is available because Kersh is going to be leaving in it.”
In addition, “The Enforcer” is wearing his traditional wrestling attire of black tights, boots, kneepads, knee braces, and white tape wrapped tightly around his wrists. As the colourful 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.
“Introducing first, from Beaumont Texas, weighing in at 255lbs… ‘The Enforcer’… BRENT… KERSH!!”
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 manoeuvres his way around the ring.
“There has been a lot of doubt cast over Kersh recently because of how terrifying Scarecrow is but for those of you who don’t know about The Enforcer – which I sincerely expect is very few, here’s some footage.”
FOOTAGE GOES HERE
“Just wow. What a career, huh? If you had a career like that then I’d actually be honoured to be sitting next to you.”
“I could sock you in the mouth, if that’d make it any easier? Look, Brent Kersh has had one hell of a career. He’s won countless Championships, beaten countless odds and overcome the best of the best; but that was then and this is now.”
“A leopard doesn’t change its spots, Double R. Brent Kersh did all those things and tonight, he cannot be underestimated.”
The lights shut off.
“Oh my, you know what this means.”
“Are you holding my hand?”
“Don’t be so ridiculous.”
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.
“And his opp-”
Scarecrow snaps his head at Ruiz and she quickly, and wisely vacates the ring. He then turns his attention to Brent Kersh, who rolls his neck as the bell sounds and this one is underway as both men approach each other. Brent stands before The Nightmare, looking into the dark pits that are his eyes and is quickly sent sprawling backwards by an Uppercut. He rushes back towards him, only to receive another and hit the canvas. Scarecrow helps him back to his feet, taking him into the ropes and bending down, Kersh stopping moments before he reaches The Hayman and nailing him with a kick to the chest. The enforcer bounds past him into the ropes, connecting with a Clothesline on the return.
That barely stumbled him though and Kersh runs again, this time putting the whole of his 255lb weight behind it, finally dropping him to the canvas. He could drop down into the cover but chooses not to, helping Scarecrow back to his feet and slamming him with a fierce right hand, another, another, pulling him into a VERTICAL SUPLEX! No-one has dropped The Scarecrow like that! Now he rolls into the cover… One… Kick Out with authority! The power of this monster is unbelievable and even stuns Brent, who can’t remember a last time he was launched part way across the ring.
He’s back up and grabs The Hayman, receiving a shot to the gut for his troubles. Scarecrow pushes him away and ducks a Clothesline attempt, scooping up Kersh as he runs again and into a Powerslam! Scarecrow is quickly back to his feet and grabs The Enforcer, whipping him hard into the turnbuckle before running in with a Big Boot.. NO! BRENT MOVES! Brent nails him with a chopping block to the back of the knee whilst his leg is hung up over the ropes and that leaves him flat on his back. He drops an Elbow across the throat, another, another, another, another, another, and finally, one more vicious elbow before rolling to the outside.
The fans are on their feet applauding this more violent style of attack as Brent drags a leg outside the ring and WRAPS IT AROUND THE RING POST! If the Hayman can’t walk, he can’t fight! He goes for it again, except this time, Scarecrow kicks him backwards into the barricade. He rolls to the outside to meet The Enforcer, grabbing him by the head and driving him straight into the ring post! Brent stumbles backwards and is lifted into the air and DROPPED THROAT FIRST ACROSS THE BARRICADE! JESUS CHRIST!The referee has given up counting out and heads to the outside with them. Scarecrow is at a hobble but he’s not done, not by a long shot. He drags Kersh over to the ring and rolls him back inside, keeping his head over so that he can drive an elbow straight across his neck.
Scarecrow hops back onto the ring apron and into the ring, reaching down to pull Kersh up and under the middle rope, so that he’s bent between the top and the middle. The Hayman slams his forearm down on his chest before STUFFING HIS MOUTH WITH.. WHAT THE FUCK? THAT’S HAY!! HE’S RAMMING HAY DOWN THE THROAT OF THE ENFORCER!! The referee is too terrified to do anything and can only watch as Brent chokes on the ring apron. The Scarecrow finally lets go to chase down the screaming referee, who stumbles and falls backwards himself.
By now Brent has fallen to the outside, spitting, coughing and spewing up as much hay as he can. Scarecrow heads to the outside, slamming his forearm down across the back of a kneeling Kersh before rolling him back inside the ring. He covers, this being it, surely. One….. Two… Three!! KICK OUT! KICK OUT! THE ENFORCER JUST.. OH NO WAY.. HE KICKED OUT! The Scarecrow doesn’t waver, he doesn’t even wait, he grabs Brent by the throat and pulls him to his feet THE HARVESTER!! CHOKESLAM STRAIGHT TO HELL!! HE COVERS AGAIN… ONE…… TWO…… THREE!! KICK OUT! KICK OUT!! THE FANS CANNOT BELIEVE IT! BRENT KERSH KICKED OUT AGAIN!
The Scarecrow gets him back to his feet, but Brent somehow kicks him in the gut, using everything he has. He scoops Scarecrow up.. HE’S GOING FOR THE LONE STAR!! BUT WAIT, THE HAYMAN DROPS DOWN BEHIND HIM… THE LIGHTS GO OUT! THE LIGHTS ARE GONE!! THE PERCH! IT HAS TO BE THE… WAIT A MINUTE!! THE LIGHTS RETURN AND BRENT KERSH IS GONE. HE’S FUCKING GONE!!Scarecrow stands in the middle of the ring, his arms spread and his head lowered, not moving a single inch as the referee searches frantically for Brent. Did he get away? Did he escape? The referee can do the only thing he knows and starts to count…ONE…. TWO…. THREE… FOUR… All the way to TEN!! The bell sounds and this one is over. Where the hell is Brent Kersh?
Backstage and there’s a very confident Hardcore Champion in Matthew Cories. Tonight he defeated 911 and sent the White Ranger packing and now he feels like he can take on the world.
“Tonight I proved that not only am I the best Hardcore Champion in the OSW but that The Green Ranger truly does reign supreme.”
“LET’S GO CORIES!” chant the fans in unison.
Matthew holds up his Hardcore Championship to another cheer.
“…isn’t leaving my side for the foreseeable future. I am your first Hardcore Champion, hell I’m your first Champion and- ”
Captain One-Eyed Willy:
“Look at that precious booty!”
The Hardcore Champion turns around to see the interruption, even going as far as to look at his own butt.
“I’ve heard about you, butt-raider!”
Captain One-Eyed Willy:
“Oh I lad, I bet ye have! Thanks t’ you, I’m a onetime Hardcore Champion and me crew wants another piece’a that thar action.”
“Wait, do you want my butt or this Championship!”
Captain One-Eyed Willy:
“The booty lad, I want the booty.”
Before Willy can say another word, Matthew has started running off down the halls. He looks at the camera with a shrug and then follows, chasing The Hardcore Champion as he makes a b-line towards the exit.
One thing is for sure when the grainy footage of a handheld camera opens up is that they aren’t inside the BB&T Centre. Where they are is inside a cornfield. It’s dark, it’s nearby and Brent Kersh is unconscious, perched in the air as if he was a scarecrow.
The handheld camera zooms in on his contorted face as he wakes up, realizing where he is. He kicks and struggles, but to no avail.
“I see you’re the man trying to take down my Scarecrow.”
A deep voice reverberates behind the camera lens.
“GET ME DOWN FROM HERE! WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAPPENED?”
“Relax, calm yourself. I saved you from a career ending injury, Mr. Kersh. You don’t yet see it but if my Scarecrow would of Perched you tonight, you would of never gotten back up.”
Brent struggles against the restraints again.
“You’ve got alotta fight and I like that. I created a monster, didn’t you know? He was meant to be a deterrent, he wasn’t even meant to be a he – but an IT. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if my Scarecrow was taken away and he was placed here or if the God’s brought it to life to terrify us.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“You want to stop him, do you not? I and so many more have tried.”
“Why like this, why now? You could’ve waited until after my match, you could’ve had a conversation with me. What’s the meaning of all this?”
The man laughs rather sadistically, cutting off Kersh from continuing.
“You can’t beat him..”
He scoffs and giggles at the same time.
“It takes a Scarecrow to beat a Scarecrow.”
The camera suddenly drops, crashing to the ground but refusing to go off. It points up at Kersh who whilst still perched, struggles to break free, yelling at the man to let him go.
“Oh my God, oh my God. That man is going to, oh no.”
“He said it takes a Scarecrow to beat a Scarecrow. I shudder to think what that means he’s going to do to Brent Kersh.”
“He’s going to leave him there, Rich. He’s going to turn him into the same twisted, warped, terrifying monster that Scarecrow is and then send him back here to finish the job.”
“I have no love lost for men like Kersh but someone has to get out there and get him down before it’s too late.”
HAYDEN HARDKORE VS. PROFESSOR BORDEAUX
Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the US Championship. Introducing first, the challenger. Hailing from Wellington, New Zealand… The Jackass… Hayden HardKore!
Smoke flows over the entrance stage and strobe lighting fills the arena as the guitar riff to ’96 Quite Bitter Beings’ plays. When the music reaches the verse, the lighting changes to match the music, with flashes of light matching the hits of the music.
Hayden enters once the vocals to the song begin, taking large marching steps in time to the music as if wading through mud. He marches to the front of the entrance stage and stops, looking out over the arena. A chain is wrapped around his left fist, connected to a steel ball that dangles at his waist, his weapon of choice – affectionately named Kevin. Hayden swings the steel ball backwards, draping it over his shoulder so that it hangs down his back.
Hayden stops when he reaches the front of the entrance stage and slaps the ground in front of where he stands with his free hand, drawing an invisible and symbolic line on the ground in front of him with a finger. Stepping off and over the line, Hayden picks up speed and runs toward the ring. Sliding as he enters the ring, Hayden manoeuvres up onto one knee as he slides while his loyal Jackasses get their weekly chance to rock out with their favourite Kiwi Battler.
Hayden has had a bit of an up and down run in OSW so far. He comes into tonight as quite the underdog, but this dog has a bit of fight in him. We saw that last week as everything came crashing down.
I have been working on my ‘Pukana’ all week after seeing his war face. Professor Bourdeaux found out the hard way that Hayden does not take kindly to taunts about his culture.
And Introducing Secondly… Hailing from Paris, France… The US Champion, Professor Nickedemus Bourdeaux!
A chorus comes over the loudspeakers as the beginnings of “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy begins blaring throughout the arena. Professor Nickedemus Bordeaux comes strutting out from behind the curtain and a massive grin over his face. Over his shoulder is slung the US Championship, which he pats proudly before he twirls with his hands extended as the glitter sparkles in the spotlight! He teases a couple of children from the entrance ramp, extending his hand, and pulling them back before the kid can slap him ‘five’. He slides underneath the bottom rope and climbs to the middle turnbuckle, holding his nose high in the air, and soaking in the hatred from the crowd.
Here he is, the US Champion. Professor Bourdeaux is every bit as good as he thinks he is and he is out her tonight to prove that to what he considers to be a ‘second class citizen’.
He doesn’t respect Hayden or his Maori culture. He has been outspoken about Hayden’s facial tattoos and how they are an abomination of his body. And what’s more, OSW cannot seem to even find a US Citizen for the fans to cheer for in this contest… Two foreigners fighting for the US Championship? That is the abomination.
The pair meet in the centre of the ring, Professor Bourdeaux holding his nose in the air superiorly. Hayden approaches more slowly, his eyes wild and wide; his tongue poking out and touching his chin. The wild face, Hayden’s pukana, is a direct challenge to his opponent… A challenge that Bourdeaux looks more than willing to meet. Hayden and Professor waste little time in getting stuck in, the pair colliding in the centre of the ring and locking horns for the first time officially. The snide Bourdeaux is having none of Hayden’s nonsense and quickly steals the upper hand in the tango with a swift thumb to the eye that sends the Kiwi Battler reeling backwards and the referee issuing the Frenchman with a warning.Bourdeaux ignores the warning completely, closing the gap between him and Hayden and NAILS HAYDEN WITH A RUNNING KNEE LIFT! Hayden splays backwards into the ropes, bouncing off them only for the Professor to WRAP HIM UP IN A CRADLE DDT POSITION! SLAM! PROFESSOR BOURDEAUX DRILLS HAYDEN HEAD FIRST INTO THE CANVAS! The fans rise as one to boo the opportunistic Bourdeaux. In turn, the Frenchman locks Hayden up in a FIGURE FOUR ARM LOCK! Hayden has the veteran instincts about him to reach out for the ropes, breaking the hold. The referee counts Bourdeaux out up to four before he breaks the hold. Creating a moments reprise Is all Hayden needs to pull himself to his feet. This time, when Bourdeaux comes charging at him, HAYDEN MEETS HIM WITH A FIST! POWER OF THE SOUTHPAW! HE NEARLY PUNCHED A HOLE IN PROFESSSOR BOURDEAX’S SKULL!
The booing had turned to rampant cheers as Hayden lays his nemesis out. Smiling, the Kiwi Battler climbs to the top of the turnbuckle. He adjusts himself to ensure he doesn’t slip then leaps. DIVING HEADBUTT FROM THE TOP ROPE! HE NAILED IT! Hoping that his quick turn around was enough to seal a victory and a championship, Hayden hooks the leg and locks in a pin attempt. The referee counts but BOURDEAUX KICKS OUT ON TWO! It is going to take more than that to beat this Frenchy tonight! The pair reach their feet almost together, each scrapping with the other to get the upper hand. Bourdeaux again gets the best of his lightweight opponent, this time with a Throat Thrust that has Hayden spluttering for air. A European Uppercut follows his throat thrust, sending Hayden backwards into the waiting turnbuckle. With nowhere to go, Hayden is at Bourdeaux’s mercy. The merciless Professor lines up the Jackass and HITS HIM WITH AN ALMIGHTY YAKUZA KICK! HE NEARLY TOOK HAYDEN’S HEAD OFF!
From there, Hayden is dead weight. Professor picks him up again, unceremoniously tossing him about. He thrusts him into a Double Underhook position, then pauses. Casting an eye out over the crowd, Bourdeaux smiles at their negativity. The boos don’t faze him. He smirks as he lifts the Kiwi up… THE EARLY DISMISSAL! GOODNIGHT HAYDEN HARDKORE! Professer Bourdeaux could choose to go for the pinfall, Hayden’s carcass lying lifelessly at his feet. The crowd boo him in protest at dismissing their hero with such utter disregard. Instead of ending the match humanely, Bourdeaux rolls Hayden over… EXTRA CREDIT! HE HAS IT LOCKED IN! HAYDEN TAPS! HE TAPS! BORDEAUX RETAINS THE UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP AND THE FANS HATE IT! Except Bordeaux won’t let go, refusing to release as Hayden taps wildly. Something cracks – not just inside of the Champion but inside of Hayden, as he slumps down in agonizing pain before passing out. The Professor finally releases him, snatching his Championship away from the referee a celebrating to a chorus of boos.
There’s as fracas backstage.
A big one.
“Oh my.. this is so disturbing.”
There’s a massive cross, reaching at least six feet in the air. That’s not the disturbing part though, not by a long shot.
What’s truly disturbing is that nailed to the cross – by his hands, is Fate.
“Someone get him down!”
“Look at him, trying to get out of the Main Event.”
“Are you serious? He’s been nailed to a god damn cross!!”
Everyone is running around trying to get a ladder, an EMT, anything they feel can help right now. One man isn’t running around – That’s Desmond Cross. Cross stands looking at the unconscious Fate, blood dripping from wounds on his hands in which nails brutally stick out.
“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
He bows his head, lifting it up slowly with a sadistic smirk.
“That sick son of a bitch! He’s nailed Fate to that cross tonight, hasn’t he? Someone needs to stop this evil bastard!”
I’LL TAKE THAT II
It’s just moments before the Main Event and we’re by the curtain backstage with Errol Flint. He’s pacing back and forth until finally, Marvellous Master Chef stops by, belt draped over his shoulder.
“You! GET OVER HERE!”
He yells at MMC.
Marvellous Master Chef:
“Now hold on me amigo, you cannot take gourmet Jesus’ World Championship. The Luncha Underground will go crazy!”
Errol raises his eyebrows, his hand extended, demanding the title.
“He can’t do this, he can’t! He’s taking away what rightfully belongs to our World Champion.”
“He might be your World Champion but he hasn’t won anything yet. He stole that belt, Double R.”
Marvellous Master Chef:
“Think about all the Luncha children, Mr. Flint! Think about how you’re denying them the very food on their plate.”
He wiggles his fingers again.
Finally MMC realizes that he’s not getting out of here with the belt and reluctantly hands it over.
“You can have this back if you win tonight, alright?”
Dejected, frustrated and entirely pissed off, Marvellous Master Chef storms past the Chairman towards the curtain, ready to go out there and fight for what he wrongfully believes to be his Championship.
“That’s just not right.”
“It’s about time someone finally took what wasn’t his and finally, we can have a Main Event where that belt finds a rightful owner.”
WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for our Main Event! The following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the World Heavyweight Championship!
I’ve been waiting four weeks for the very match that crowns our World Champion and this is it. I just can’t see Fate making it out here for this one.
Well if he wasn’t fucking around backstage tied to some giant cross, he’d be out here, wouldn’t he?
NAILED, Roman. NAILED.
The hyped up beginning of Lil Wayne’s “Watch My Shoes” kicks off, 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.
Introducing first.. from Parts Unknown, Latin America, weighing in at 225lbs… The Marvellous One… Marvellous.. Master… Chef!!
Can you imagine how furious he must be after Flint just stripped him of his belt?
That isn’t what happened at all. MMC stole the World Championship three weeks ago and it’s taken this long to retrieve it.
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 forfeits the skillet to the referee and waits in his corner for the opening bell.
The lights in the arena dim and a bright spotlight shines on Desmond Cross, clad in a white trench coat, as he appears at the entryway. Clutched in his hands is a massive wooden cross, the length of his massive frame. He smiles as he drags the cross to the ring.
This guy is an animal. For those of you who may of just joined us, this fatal four way match has been turned into a triple threat because that man right there.
You don’t know that. I wouldn’t be making claims that you can’t back up.
Introducing now, from Greenville, South Carolina, weighing in at 280lbs.. The Messiah’s Messenger… DESMOND CROSS!
Propping it up, he climbs into the ring and falls to his knees, looking upward towards the heavens.
I hope there’s going to be some kind of repercussions for this.
If Fate isn’t out here then that’s his responsibility, alright?
The opening riff from “Open Your Eyes” blares throughout the arena, the lights strobe along to the music.
And now, Introducing from Ogdensburg New York, weighing in at 220lbs.. D… T…. R!
Dave steps out from behind the curtain with his arms extended and moves down the ramp in a fast motion, slapping hands with the fans as they go.
This match has to set the bar for all competitions going forward and thanks to Cross, we’re missing a key component in it.
Will you stop going on about it? We’ve got a Triple Threat Match to contend with. It’s Desmond Cross vs. Marvellous Master Chef vs. Dave The Rattlesnake for the OSW World Heavyweight Championship and it’s up next.
The bell sounds amongst resounding boo’s from the sold out crowd here at the BB&T Centre. Master Chef and Cross though smell blood like sharks in the water and both rush at DTR, Dave sending Chef bounding backwards with a right hand. He blocks a shot by Cross, going low with a knee to the mid-section and then runs him head first into the top turnbuckle. His surprising and quick offense has the crowd turned around, that is until Master Chef drops him with a Diving Shoulder Block to the back of the knees! Chef hops into position, mounting him with strong right hands.
Desmond Cross on the other hand storms across the ring, KICKING CHEF IN THE HEAD! He grabs him up and takes him back to the ropes, sending him across the ring and SPINEBUSTER! Desmond wisely covers… One… Two… Kick Out! The Messenger gets back up and looks at the referee, grabbing Master Chef by the head, receiving a shot to the gut for his trouble, another, another, another, The Marvellous One is fighting back. He gets back to his feet and hits the ropes, sliding under the waiting Cross, popping up behind him and FLYING HEADBUTT!
MMC turns around and kick to the gut.. DDT! DTR NAILS HIM. The Rattlesnake covers… One… Two… Kick Out! DTR gets back up and helps MMC back to his, hitting him with a right forearm, another.. SNAP SUPLEX! Dave is on fire right now, turns around andCHOKESLAM! DESMOND CROSS! YOU CAN’T FORGET ABOUT CROSS! Cross now stands tall amongst the carnage.
♫…Remember Me! For Centuries! ♫
WHAT!!! Just then the fans roar, getting back to their feet to see Fate walk out from behind the curtain with two hands taped, the blood seeping through them. He bolts from the ramp way to the ring and slides in, ducking straight under a Clothesline by Desmond Cross and nailing him with one of his own. His music cuts and he demands that Desmond get back up, kicking him low and DRILLING HIM WITH A PILEDRIVER! Fate covers and the fans chant along with the pin fall… One… Two… Three! MASTER CHEF BREAKS UP THE NEAR FALL!! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The fans really don’t like that. MMC pulls Fate to his feet, pushing his thumbs straight into the palms of his hand, forcing a scream of agony from Mr. Inevitable.
Fate swings with a right hand, another, another, he’s fighting out of the lock and storms into the ropes, Master Chef though runs too, ducking a quick fire Clothesline and ASAI MOONSAULT FROM THE MIDDLE ROPE! THAT’LL DO IT! HE GOT ALL OF THAT! Into the cover… One… Two… Three! DTR WITH A KICK TO THE HEAD! The Rattlesnake grabs MMC who desperately hits him in the gut, breaking his grip. Cross is also back to his feet, RUNNING BIG BOOT! CEPT CHEF ROLLED UP DTR AND CROSS GOT NOTHING! ONE…. TWO…. CROSS QUICKLY REALIZES AND TURNS AROUND TO STOMP OUT THE COUNT! All three men spring away, Chef popping back up and SPEAR! SPEAR BY THE MESSIAHS MESSENGER!!
Desmond gets back up with all the momentum on his side, but there’s Fate with a quick rake to the eyes. He leaps into the air.. DOUBLE KNEE FACEBUSTER!! ADVERSITY! HE GOT IT! FATE INTO THE COVER…. ONE…. TWO…. THREE!!! NOOOOOO!! DTR BREAKS UP THE FALL! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS MATCH!? Fate is back to his feet as The Rattlesnake storms him, sending him straight over the top and to the outside. Mr. Inevitable turns around and there’s Master Chef SPITTING BROWN SPEW INTO HIS EYES! BRAINBUSTER CREME BRULEE!! Fate stumbles backwards holding his eyes, Chef with a Crossbody Block! MMC raises an arm to the boo of the crowd and heads up top.. DOUBLE STOMP TO THE GROIN OF FATE! JESUS CHRIST THAT MUST’VE HURT!! FLYING BANANAS FLAMBE!! He covers… ONE…. TWO…. THREE!!! NOOOOOO!! FATE KICKS OUT! HE KICKED OUT!!
There’s not an ass on their seat inside The BB&T Centre tonight. This match has been epic beyond all comprehension and now Master Chef is pulled to the outside by DTR! Dave slams him back first into the barricade and begins right handing him like some kind of maniac. He drags him over to the announce table and slams him head first off of it, only for Chef to return the favour with a head slam of his own! The Marvellous One then grabs the skillet, the referee quickly outside to try and stop him from using it. Whilst the argument ensues, Fate and Desmond Cross are up, Cross with a kick to the groin and AMAZING GRACE! F-5! F-5!!Desmond covers, thinking he’s won the Championship… ONE…. TWO…. THREE…. FOUR… FIVE… The referee is distracted!
Cross slams his hands on the canvas and leans over the ropes to complain, except MASTER CHEF SKILLETS THE REFEREE! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! He turns around to nail The Rattlesnake but DTR IS THERE WITH A STEEL CHAIR TO THE SKULL! THAT FUCKING NAILED HIM! Cross doesn’t know what to do and turns around and gets a kick to the gut… HIGH ANGLE DOUBLE UNDERHOOK FACE BUSTER!! DESTINY!! DESTINY TO DESMOND CROSS! Fate waves to the back with bloodied hands, demanding that a referee get his ass out here. He drops into the cover as a referee finally hits the ring, sliding in to count… ONE…. TWO…. DTR PULLS FATE OFF CROSS AND SAVES THE MATCH!
This match has had everything and when Fate gets up, THE RATTLER! THAT HAS TO BE IT! He covers… ONE…. TWO….. THREE! NO!! FOR FUCK SAKE! DESMOND CROSS BREAKS IT UP! He grabs DTR by the head and scoops him up.. AMAZING GRACE! F-5! F-5!! That has to be it! Cross covers… ONE…. TWO….. THREE! MASTER CHEF DIVES IN TO BREAK IT UP!! HOLY CRAP! MMC lifts Cross straight up onto his shoulders into a Torture Rack.. NECKBREAKER! THE KITCHEN SINK!! WHAT BRUTALITY! PLEASE TELL ME HE WON’T.. HE CAN’T… HE COVERS… ONE…. TWO….. THREE! The bell sounds and it’s over! Oh my God, what a match, what a fucking match. The Marvellous One rolls off of Cross in almost disbelief that he’s done it, kneeling there with hands on his knees and a smile on his face. That snide, cheating little weasel is the champion!
Confetti begins to fall from the roof as Marvellous Master Chef looks towards the entrance ramp where Errol Flint soon appears with the belt. The Chairman makes his way slowly down the ramp, hardly pleased as Chef sits on the middle rope and opens it for him.
“Errol can’t believe this, can he? He took that belt back from MMC tonight and now he’s giving it straight back.”
“I told you all along that he’s the Champion, didn’t I?”
Errol finally enters the ring – but through the opposite side, walking over to the new World Champion and looking at him sternly. He hands over the belt and WHACK!! OH MY GOD!! MIKE LANE AND JENSEN CUSSEN FROM BEHIND!!
“WHAT THE HELL!? WHAT’S THE MEANING OF THIS!?”
“THAT’S JENSEN CUSSEN AND MIKE LANE TOGETHER!”
Both men pummel Chef with right hands, beating the holy hell out of the new World Champion. Lane grabs him by the head and runs him STRAIGHT INTO A BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA BY JENSEN CUSSEN! HOLY SHIT!
Errol Flint claps enthusiastically as DTR slowly gets back to his feet and SHADOW KICK! LEAPING SUPERKICK BY LANE TO DTR!!Jensen Cussen smiles from ear to ear, quickly mounting The Rattlesnake and pummelling him.
“Stop this damnit! What the hell is the meaning of this? Why is Flint letting this happen?”
The fans roar as a referee comes to the aid of DTR, only for Flint to stop him and cut him off with THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP TO THE SKULL!!
“This is mayhem! Beautiful mayhem!”
Jensen finally stops beating on DTR and stands up, joining Mike Lane and Errol Flint in the middle of the ring, all three of their arms raised as the fans boo them out of the building. The camera closes in on Master Chef as Flint throws the title down on his chest in disgust, then switches to DTR who’s bloodied from the right hands delivered to him by Cussen.
“I can’t believe this. Errol Flint has just helped Jensen Cussen and Mike Lane destroy The World Champion and DTR!”
“What a show, what a marvellous show!”