Calgary, Alberta...Canada.
Ogden Legion Hall. Fans are milling about, most in their seats, some at the merch table or getting concessions, a few streaming in and picking up their tickets. It's a good turn-out for what promises to be a huge show.
Frank Warburton gets in the ring.
FRANK WARBURTON: Calgary, Alberta, are you ready for some wrestling?
Hell yeah big daddy F!
FRANK WARBURTON: Then welcome to New Alberta Pro Wrestling... welcome to CRIMES SPREE! This is our opening contest, and is set for one fall...
"Scream" kicks in, and to a chorus of boos comes the bizarre looking Vincent Yun Chang, in his strange attire and facepaint. He's like a Kabuki succubus. And yes friends, that is creepy.
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first from St. Petersburg Florida, weighing in at one-hundred and ninety-eight pounds... Vincent! Yun! Chang!
Chang stares out over the crowd, eyes flashing.
BILL HEWSON: Certainly an... unusual competitor, is Yun Chang. He has yet to pick up a win here in NAPW despite strong performances against Simply Beautiful and Jeff Garvin, respectively. Tonight, well, his opponent is a mystery.
JACK JONES: No, it's a Mystery OPPONENT.
BILL HEWSON: Well...sure Jack, whatever.
JACK JONES: Glee!
Chang looks out to the curtain, awaiting the mystery opponent along with everybody else.
Cue the funky bass. Some wah-wah guitar.
"Oooh superfly!"
BILL HEWSON: Dear God in Heaven.
JACK JONES: Talk about unusual competitors, it's DR. TITTYLOVER! THE MAD PIMP IS IN NAPW!
The crowd goes crazy. Both with fear and total awesomeness, because in his zebra print overcoat and wild PIMP clothing it is indeed THE MAD PIMP OF CRACKHEAD STYLE. Dr. Tittylover grooves and funks down to the ring, scoping out all the fat chicks in the crowd. Not that there are lot of females, but the Titty loves... uh...the titties. Yun Chang seems passive in the ring. Certainly little must faze him.
FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent, hailing from parts unknown and weighing two-hundred and sixty-eight pounds... Doctorrrrr Tittyloverrrrrrr!
JACK JONES: Match of the Year! Match of the Year!
BILL HEWSON: Dear God in Heaven.
The Mad Pimp removes his coat, then wipes his crotch with it before handing it off to the ring page. Because, titties? Uh sure. Bell rings, match is set to start...
When suddenly Matthew and Chad Kurtis, the BLUEGRASS MAFIA, come out of the curtain. All eyes in the audience turn towards them. Mandy is following behind, looking confused, as Matt takes a few big strides and then steps up to the ring apron, stepping over the top rope a la Kevin Nash and
BOOM.
Yakuza Kick destroys Yun Chang!
BILL HEWSON: What in the hell? Matt Kurtis just attacked Vincent Yun Chang, what the hell is this about? The Bluegrass Mafia aren't even scheduled to be here tonight!
Dr. Tittylover charges Matt Kurtis looking for BOOTZILLA, but Chad Kurtis is suddenly in the ring! SUPERKICK right to the butt of Tittylover's jaw, and the man goes down like a sack of potatoes thrown from four stories up. That is to say, hard and fast. Which is just how Tittylover likes it, zing! "American Nightmare" picks up the dazed Yun Chang and lifts him high in the air, waaaay up... and DRIVES the man down with a thunderous Bluegrass Bomb! Chad Kurtis grabs Tittylover with a standing headscissors, though why you would EVER stick THAT man's head so close to your crotch I don't know... he rolls his hands in mid-air to signal for it!
CK Finale!
Tittylover is spiked by the flipping piledriver and rolls out of the ring. Kurtis then grabs Yun Chang's carcass and pulls him back up. He hoists Chang up on his shoulders as Chad goes to the top rope --- KURTIS KRUSHER! Chang is dead, kids. Matt boots the body out of the ring. The crowd reaction is mixed, some fans cheering, some booing, but the BGM don't care. Chad removes his hoodie and Matt rips his t-shirt, off tossing the remains into the crowd. Mandy comes down to the ring as fast as she can. A few fans whistle and catcall but a glare in their general direction from Matt puts an end to that. Mandy climbs up the ring steps carrying a microphone. She walks over to Matt and gives him the mic...
MANDY: Here's the microphone you want, Matt sweetie.What are you going to do with it?
MATTHEW: I thought that I might use it to talk with.
MANDY: Oh yeah I guess that would make sense. I just so confused with all this...stuff.
MATTHEW: Mandy just do everyone a favor and just go over to the side and stand there and look pretty and chew your gum .
MANDY: (giggling) Um..okay.
Mandy over to one side of the ring blowing a big pink bubble that pops loudly as Matt, looking even angier than usual, begins to speak...
MATTHEW: Now down to some serious business. The last time the BGM were in an NAPW ring, it was to compete for the NAPW Tag Team Titles. We were seconds away from winning them and people who had no business in the match got involved and me and my brother ... were cheated out of the titles. The first idiots to get involved were Musical Ninja and Expediton or whatever the hell that call themselves. They decided that even when the match was being fought under "Superstar Rules" that all of us couldn't use weapons so left the annouce table and they collect them all and take them away, allowing Phoenix and Deathrow time to regroup when we had them right where we wanted them.
But even after those two pulled their little stunt me and Chad are able to regain control of the match and then what happens? I'll tell you what, you stupid Calgary fans just start giving Phoenix chairs and belts and who knows what else to use against us. So let Jake and Tommy brag about beating us but we know and they know it took plenty of outside help, "Superstar Rules" or not.
Chad takes the mic.
CHAD: What Matt is trying to say is that Phoenix and Deathrow know that without "Superstar Rules" they couldn't beat the team of Joey Malone & Chris Kamikaze, let alone the Bluegrass Mafia! So we came out here to first of all to save the fans from a boring ass match and second and most important demand another shot at the NAPW Tag Team Championship. I mean we fight and claw our way to a shot only to have it ruined by two Ninja Turtle wanna-be's...
"When it's time to party we will party hard!"
Here come Mystic Exposition! Ninja and The Expositioner come out in street clothes to a strong ovation. The Mafia look on with disgust as ME hop into the ring and mug for the fans. Ninja grabs a second microphone.
NINJA: Hold on there just a second, Chad. And Matt, just hear us out for a second. And hellooooo, Mandy!
EXPOSITIONER: (takes the microphone) And he's gone. Chad, Matt, first of all, that was a good match out there. We're proud to be in such esteemed company in this tag division. we're here to clear up a few things, namely your tag match against Tommy Deathrow and Jake Phoenix. I know you think that we're in some way responsible for your loss at Get the Hell Off Our Lawn II. Heck, you think that we're in every way responsible for your loss. But I'm here to tell you something that may very well blow your mind. I'm sure Ninja agrees with me, but he's a little distracted by your girlfriend...
NINJA: (takes microphone back) Okay, I'm back. Bluegrass Mafia, we have no beef with you. You guys are talented wrestlers who, no doubt, can take on Jake Phoenix and Tommy Deathrow without our or anyone else' interference. But that's gonna be a problem for us, because we're after those tag belts, too, and we were stung by those damn "Superstar rules" like you were. And we're none too pleased about that.
EXPOSITIONER: You may see us as just another joke team, but we made a promise back at Tagstravaganza that we weren't going to stop in NAPW until we got those tag belts. Now that we have a real chance at winning the tag championships, we're a little miffed that we were so woefully unprepared for those "Superstar rules." As a result, we've decided to level the playing field to see how well Misters Deathrow and Phoenix can win matches without their precious "Superstar rules." The verdict?
NINJA: They can't. You see, Chad, we weren't trying to screw you guys at Get the Hell Off Our Lawn II. We were trying to level the playing field and help you guys meet them on even terms. No weapons, no arbitrary rules, just straight out no-holds-barred wrestling. And we think that if they didn't keep grabbing weapons from the crowd, you would have had a damn good chance at beating them.
EXPOSITIONER: Since our defeat at Brawl from a Mall, we've been training hard to get another title shot, and we've never felt better. They're not going to catch us unawares again, as I'm certain they won't catch you unawares the next time you go up against them. But as long as we're not the ones with the title shot, we will continue to level that playing field in the hopes of gaining some worthy opponents who don't rely on such unbalanced gimmick matches.
NINJA: I know we've just taken up most of your time out here, but we needed to let you know what's going on, since you'll be facing us sooner or later. But we'll deal with that if and when it happens. Right now, though, we have to resolve this. We'll keep jumping into "Superstar" matches if we think they're uneven, whether Deathrow and Phoenix are facing the Bluegrass Mafia or The Damned or the Northern Express, and there's nothing you can do to stop us. Outside of those matches, however, we won't interfere.
EXPOSITIONER: What do you say, boys? Are we cool?
Expositioner extends his hand. The towering Matt looks down, but before he can speak, Chad puts an arm across his chest and takes the microphone from his bro.
CHAD: Yeah.
Chad motions to his brother and himself.
CHAD: We're cool.
WHAM! Matt Kurtis delivers the hammer blow to Ninja and then THUNKZZZZZZ* as Chad Kurtis bashes the microphone into Expositioner's forehead. Mandy squeaks in fear and gingerly steps out of the ring. The Bluegrass Mafia looking to take out Mystic Exposition like they just did Yun Chang and Tittylover, oh no! Matt doubles over Mystic Ninja and sets him up. BLUEGRAAAAS BOMB --- wait a minute, Mystic Ninja carries through the momentum and winds up behind Matt Kurtis, leaps up and LUNGBLOWER on the big man! Chad Kurtis though with a SUPERKICK out of nowhere takes out Mystic Ninja. Turn around Chad! "X-POUND!" Expositioner leaps off the 2nd rope and takes Chad down with a Thesz press, fists flailing away! Matt Kurtis is up again, FURIOUS. He charges at Ninja, low bridge! Ninja pulls the top rope down and Matt takes a big spill to the outside. Mystic Exposition grab Chad and fire him to the ropes, double back body drop sends The Show flying outside the ring and onto Matt! Crowd is loving it, but the BGM are quickly up and Matt is even more pissed off. Mandy tries to "hold him back."
If that's possible.
Matt grabs a steel chair from ringside and BLASTS the ring post with it to shocking noise. Here come security and referees to keep this from getting more out of hand! They're giving Matt distance, don't want to get too close, no telling what he'll do. Expositioner picks the mic up once more.
EXPOSITIONER: Mafia... thank you for doing exactly what we expected. It looks like "sooner or later" is going to be sooner... how about next week at Complete Control II? Tag team wrestling at it's finest, the Bluegrass Mafia vs Mystic Exposition! What do you say?
MATT: What do I say? I say get ready for the worst beating of your damn life! You two jokes don't have a damn clue what you're in for! Chad, let's get the hell out of here! Come on Mandy!
The Mafia leave to a chorus of boos. Andrew WK kicks up again and Mystic Ninja hit the corners. Next week, Bluegrass Mafia vs Mystic Exposition!
JACK JONES: And that's how they make sausages.
BILL HEWSON: I'll never be able to look at a Brautwurst the same way again.
FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is a tag-team match, scheduled for one fall. Entering first, in their NAPW debut match! Weighing in at five hundred and six pounds! "Yukon Gold" Matt Nash and "North Star" Randy London! Northern Expresssss!
"Thunderstruck"! The crowd growls along to the song and gives a suitable welcoming cheer as the two men come to the ring. They high-five a few fat guys, wink at a few lovely ladies, give thumbs-up to a few kids. You know. The way faces do.
JACK JONES: I hate these guys.
BILL HEWSON: Why am I not surprised...
JACK JONES: Come on! One of them named himself after a type of potato! These guys aren't worthy to wrestle in an NAPW ring!
FRANK WARBURTON: And their opponents! "The Moose" Mark Millar and "The Wild Rose" Wayne Wright! Grade "A" Alberta Attitude!
"All Hell For A Basement". One of the greatest Big Sugar songs ever written shouldn't elicit boos like this, but when it's the theme music of Grade Triple A, well, you just can't help it. The Moose and The Wild Rose stomp angrily down to ringside, determination etched on their faces.
JACK JONES: Come on, boys, you can do it!
BILL HEWSON: I don't want to rain on your parade, Jack Attack, but Grade "A" hasn't fared too well in competition lately.
JACK JONES: They're just in the middle of a slump! They can pull themselves back, I just know it!
Mark Millar and Randy London end up squaring off in the ring. They lock up and grapple for a bit, then Millar gets the upper hand with a suplex. London gets back to his feet, though, and comes at The Moose again. The Moose rushes back at him for a clothesline, but London ducks and rebounds off the ropes for a spinning heel kick! Millar's back up again too, only to meet a toe kick from London. The Moose doubles over and London grabs him by the head and then leaps up - TORNADO DDT! London rolls up, the referee comes in for the count, one, two, and the pin is broken up by Wayne Wright with a vicious boot to the back of the head. London's a little woozy and Wright and Millar take advantage of the fact - DOUBLE DDT! The referee watches closely as Millar lazily makes his way back to his corner, which gives Wayne Wright all the time in the world to choke the living daylights out of London. Matt Nash is LIVID but stays in his corner, choosing not to test the ref's patience.
JACK JONES: There you go, Hewson! Grade Triple A, back to their winning ways! Making their way back to the top! Taking it to the streets!
BILL HEWSON: You must be so gratified, Jack.
The ref FINALLY sees the blatant choke and Wayne Wright breaks it, with a "Who, Me?" look on his face. London's having a hard time catching his breath, but he stumbles towards his corner, and Wright comes at him with a vicious chop block, following it up with an elbow drop. He gets on hs hands and knees, laughing in London's face, but London grabs at his legs and Wayne falls to the ground, London trying to apply some kind of ankle lock, but Wayne Wright scrambles away and makes it back to his feet, laughing again at London. Until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around...and realize he's in tapping distance of "Yukon Gold" Matt Nash. Who just smiles and waves. Wayne Wright, taking two steps back, turns around and bumps into Randy London! Wayne Wright finds himself in between a rock and a hard place! The crowd is chanting "You BLEEPed up! You BLEEPed up!" And then Wayne Wright gets chopped by London for good measure! He chops back! London chops again! And again! THREE! SOLID! CHOPS! Wayne Wright is leaning back on the turnbuckle, and London tags in his partner! They whip him into the ropes, and then follow up with a double clothesline! Wayne Wright bounces RIGHT back up, looking like he's in the middle of an ether bender, and finds himself on the recieving end of a Matt Nash backbreaker! The Moose rushes the ring, but Nash's already scouted him out and drops him with a flying forearm lariat! Both members of Grade "A" Alberta Attitude ard down in the ring! "Yukon Gold" ROARS for the crowd, who goes nuts! Then he quickly tags in his partner, and lifts up Wayne Wright in a body press -- FLATLINE EXPRESS! London with the pin, one, two three!
FRANK WARBURTON: Your winners! "Yukon Gold" Matt Nash and "North Star" Randy London! Northern Expresssss!
JACK JONES: NOOOOOOO! What happened, boys? You were so close! SO CLOSE!
BILL HEWSON: A win for Northern Express in their NAPW debut here, and back down to the bottom for Grade "A."
The fans erupt in a chorus of boos as Ozzy Osbourne hits the PA, bringing out only one man... the cocky, egotistical Crown Jewel of The Crimes, Ca$h!
FRANK WARBURTON: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first representing The Crimes... from Seattle Washington, this! Is! Caaaaaaa$h!
BILL HEWSON: Certainly this young man has had some big opportunities in his career, perhaps none as big as this contest tonight. A win over the red-hot Chris Casino for Ca$h would send his stock through the roof, and you know Ca$h is hungry. But is he ready for the Casino of new?
JACK JONES: Casino of new? What's that, these fans cheer him! For what? Because he's after The Crimes? Chris Casino was one of the best wrestlers in the world, but the moment he set himself against "LDK" Lloyd Rees and The Crimes, he proved he's not as smart as we thought. Ca$h is going to tear up "Mr. Intensity."
Ca$h hits the ring and instigates the crowd a little more. Then...
"Smooth."
And would you believe it, the roof damn near blows off the place.
FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! From Las Vegas, Nevada... he is a Grand Slam champion in NAPW, ladies and gentlemen, Chrrrrrrrriiiiis Casinnnnno!
Casino stops after the curtain, looking out at the ring. He is indeed wearing his traditional cocky smirk, but he is certainly changed. His eyes tell the story. There is no humour there. Only drive, even obsession. He heads to the ring quickly, not bothering to egg on or even acknowledge the fans, rolling into the ring and getting right in Ca$h's face with a cocky gum-chewing smirk. Ca$h looks down at the shorter man, a good six inch height advantage.
BILL HEWSON: There's the bell, this match is officially underway... and we've got a staredown. Have you ever seen Chris Casino this intense?
JACK JONES: Never, but Casino needs to forget about his emotions! They'll only lead him down a dark path!
BILL HEWSON: Yeah, the path of not being a COMPLETE dickhead. You abandoned that path a long time ago, Jones. Casino now, jawing to Ca$h, no doubt saying something to intimidate the Crown Jewel.
JACK JONES: You can't intimidate Ca$h, Hewson, this is just making him mad.
The tension is palpable, Casino's lips clearly moving but we can't see what he can say. Ca$h sneers down at Casino, unimpressed
SLAP.
Casino slaps Ca$h right across the face! The crowd explodes. Ca$h is momentarily stunned, and then he fires a right hand towards Casino. Countered... with an eye gouge! Casino drops to his knees, firing his arm right up between Ca$h's legs. The crowd lets out a collective "oooh" as Ca$h's knees knock together and his hands shoot to his crotch. Referee John Sharplin is warning Casino, telling him he'll DQ him if he keeps it up...
Before he's even done talking, Casino has hooked Ca$h's arms and spun him around. Pause. Smirk to the crowd.
WHAM.
Bankrupt.
Ca$h driven head-first right into the canvas with brutal authority. The cover and one, two, THREE!
FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match, Chrrrrrrris Casinnnnnnno!
JACK JONES: WHAT?!
BILL HEWSON: Blink and you'll miss it, Chris Casino just beat Ca$h... definitively! Watch out, here come The Crimes!
Casino sees 'em coming. LDK, The Foundation, Static and Rex Caliber all hit the ring, but Casino slides out and dodges into the crowd. LDK screams for Casino's blood over the top rope as The Foundation get his back. Rex has his hands on his hips, clearly disgusted while Static helps the stunned Ca$h out. Static brushes off the Crown Jewel. Rex sighs, but then gives Ca$h a big hug.
JACK JONES: This is what The Crimes are all about, supporting one another in hard times.
BILL HEWSON: Not a great night for Ca$h, but the leader of The Crimes... just punched Ca$h in the side of the head! What the hell? The Crimes are attacking Ca$h, it's five-on-one!
JACK JONES: This is what The Crimes are all about, earning your keep, and Ca$h hasn't earned anything! Turf him out, boys!
They uh, sure seem to be. Ca$h is eating ten different boots. Rex yells for his crew to back up, incensed. He sticks Ca$h's head between his legs, picks him up in position for... Planetary Collision! The Styles Clash! Ca$h is down, now what's this? Oh no, it's LDK's turn! He's no doubt pissed that Ca$h, well, pissed away his precious Provincial Title so quickly recently. LDK has Ca$h up, The Foundation with a steel chair into the ring. Oh my God, no! Darko unfolds the chair and sets it up in the middle of the ring. LDK hoists Ca$h up above his shoulders, stretching out the arms... he can't do it! He can! Nish J Drop onto the unfolded chair! OH MY GOD! Ca$h writhes on the canvas in pain as Caliber grabs the microphone.
REX CALIBER: This is THE CRIMES, you stupid son of a bitch! The best of the best! You seemed to get it in your head being in The Crimes meant you could coast or something, like you're entitled to bein' here! But Crimes need to WIN, Crimes need to DOMINATE, and you? You're nothing. We don't need your ass in Cage of Death, and you're outta The Crimes. Somebody get the fuck out here and scrape this piece of shit off the canvas.
The Crimes leave to big heat. The crowd may have been happy to see Ca$h get some, but The Crimes' brutality is just... yikes. Trainers come out to help Ca$h, who is in clearly pain on the canvas after the attack he just suffered. Don't fuck with The Crimes is the message.
JACK JONES: ...And THAT is why you need to make sure it's not a baby thermometer before you put it in your mouth!
BILL HEWSON: I'm going to be sick.
"STONE COLD CRAZY!"
BILL HEWSON: Oh my! I didn't know SB was in the house tonight! Listen to these fans go crazy!
JACK JONES: Oh great, I thought finally I'd get a night off without that blowhard ruining the show!
Simply Beautiful walks down to the ring, slapping high five with the fans but with his eyes locked onto the ring. He calls for a microphone and slides under the bottom rope.
SB: Normally I'm here to kick ass, but the docs don't want me wrestling on this ankle for another week. So I got a better idea. GARVIN! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE SUNSHINE!
The crowd pops.... then stand and collectively gaze to the curtain, from which Jeff Garvin emerges. An eruption of boos follow.
JACK JONES: Oh (BLEEP!) SB's done it now! No one calls out 'the Original!'
Garvin makes his way down the aisle, eyes transfixed on SB. He stomps up the ring steps and onto the apron, boring a hole through the only man on the NAPW roster to have beaten him. He walks right past SB and grabs a microphone from the timekeeper, then moves next to him, and says directly into his ear...
GARVIN: YOU RANG?
SB: This has been goin' on for long enough. The sneak attacks, the war of words - I've had enough of this schoolyard bullshit!
SB turns and looks right into Garvin's eyes.
Garvin doesn't back off. They're now mere inches from one another.
GARVIN: You've had enough? That's what you called me out here to tell me?
SB: Don't get your nuts twisted, Garvin. I've actually got an idea that'll end this shit once and for all. Everyone's been talkin' on the "IWC" - something I know you're familiar with. You know what they're sayin'?
GARVIN: What've they been sayin'? That you're overrated and don't deserve half the credit you get from all these (turns to the crowd) NAPW MARKS?
He smirks, as the fans boo louder now having been insulted.
SB: Not quite. They LIKE me. You...ehhh...they're a little wishy-washy. They're saying you can't hang in Canada. One guy even said - you ready for this - Stu Hart is spinning in his grave!
Garvin turns and covers his mouth is faux-shock, eyes bugging out of his skull. He then laughs it off and turns back around to face SB.
GARVIN: Ha! Stu Hart can lick my jock strap clean, for all I care. (BLEEP!) him. He wasn't that good. He beat a bunch of tired-ass journeymen that looked like Al Bundy -- beer gut and receding hairline, with NO DRIVE WHATSOEVER. YOU could even beat Stu Hart. Up until his death he still thought a top wristlock was a viable finishing hold.
BILL HEWSON: I can't believe what I'm hearing! What disrespect! And just listen to these fans! They're really giving it to Garvin!
FANS: (BLEEP)! (BLEEP)!
The boos are near defeaning, now. To the point where Garvin has to increase the volume of his voice significantly.
JACK JONES: Come on! He's got a point!
GARVIN: But then again, if there was ever a person these days who could match the old generation of wrestler's work ethic, or lack there of... it'd be YOU, SB. You spend more time combing your hair then lifting weights or grappling.
SB: You hear that, folks? It's JEALOUSY. Not only am I the handsomest SOB on God's Green, but I can outwrestle ya, outwork ya, and pin you one, two, three! But let me just get back to my point. You like to consider yourself old school. I'm known for blending old and new together, and I've got more respect than anybody for this business' history. In the older days, one fall was never, ever enough.
GARVIN: So what're you suggesting?
SB: Complete Control Two is already the biggest card in NAPW history - so why don't we up the ante with a classic wrestling contest? Simply Beautiful vs. Jeff Garvin for a third time - this time, TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS!
The fans pop like crazy. Garvin looks slightly hesitant. After a few moments the start to chant "TAKE THE MATCH, TAKE THE MATCH!"
Garvin brings the microphone back up to his mouth, but pauses to turn and gaze out over the crowd.
GARVIN: Shut the (BLEEP!) up.
The boos intensify, but Jeff talks over them.
GARVIN: You want Best Two out of Three Falls? You got it! That's fine by me! I'll beat your ass for two straight falls... might take a bit longer, bell to bell, but all that means is I get to punish you more!
SB raises the microphone back to his mouth.
SB: You're going down, Garvin. Look into my eyes - I'm the best wrestler in New Alberta Pro, and the whole rest of the world. It's time for you to step aside...You CAN'T beat me one on one.
With that, SB shoves the mic into Garvin's chest and it hits the floor. SB goes to leave the ring... Garvin from behind! Going for the Heel Hook, SB REVERSES! PAINKILLER! PAINKILLER! SB TAKES GARVIN DOWN AND CINCHES IT IN! Garvin yelling in pain, here come officials to break it apart! SB yanking back, he just stuffed that right in the face of Jeff Garvin. Officials get on it, SB finally lets go. He yells out out to the fans with a grin as Garvin nurses his arm, security staying between the two men. Garvin rolls out of the ring as SB mugs for the crowd, what a match this is going to be---
Wait! Garvin suddenly breaks loose into the ring! BEHIND SB! CHOPBLOCK! HEEL HOOK IS ON! GARVIN ROARING, WRENCHING BACK ON SB'S ALREADY TENDER ANKLE! Security trying to get him off, Garvin ain't budging! He's locked on like a vice, trying to destroy SB's ankle just one week from their 2/3 falls match!
BILL HEWSON: Somebody get him off! Come on! Dammit, Jeff Garvin is some kind of human being!
JACK JONES: Yeah --- the kind that's better than people like you and Simply Beautiful and all these fans! Break his ankle, Garvin, snap it! Whoo hoo!
BILL HEWSON: You disgust me.
Finally Garvin releases the hold, leaving SB on the canvas holding his ankle in pain and groaning. Argh. Garvin mugs for the fans, smirking as they boo him. Officials trying to get him to leave, he says fine, steps through the ropes. Thinks twice about it. Garvin shoves a ref out of his way and HEEL HOOK! HEEL HOOK AGAIN! Garvin trying to damn break the ankle! Finally officials tear Garvin off of SB and get him out of the ring as trainers attend to SB.
BILL HEWSON: What kind of condition will Simply Beautiful be in? Two out of three falls next week, but perhaps Garvin has ensured his victory right here? Yeesh. There is so much more here to come, on NAPW Crimes Spree!
FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is a tag team match, and it it schedueled for one fall! Introducing first, at a combined weight of four-hundred and seventy-two pounds, from REBEL Pro, members of the Crimes, they are The Foundation!
Hatred spills from the crowd before Frank even begins to finish as Stardust plays over the PA system for Thomas Young and Prince Darko. Thomas walks out showing a cocky smile to the crowd, followed by Prince Darko who automatically begins berating the crowd with verbal assaults. The duo march into the ring, stretching and loosening up for their opponents.
FRANK WARBURTON: And their opponents...
Bang Bang to The Rock 'N' Roll starts up, and the fans go from jeers to cheers.
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, weighing in at 171 pounds, he is the NAPW Provincial Champion, "Dynamite" Stone Zellor!
Zellor bursts through the back as if he were indeed dynamite, with his title around his waist, slapping the hands of his adoring fans on the way to the ring. He jumps up on the apron and the Foundation move to pounce, but Zellor hops back down, smiling at the Crimes members while unstrapping his championship.
FRANK WARBURTON: And his partner, weighing in at 270 pounds...
Knights of Cydonia cranks over the system, and every fan in the building gets on their feet in anticipation.
FRANK WARBURTON: He is BRUCE "The BEEEEEAASSST" RIIIIICHARDS!
The sound eminating from the crowd is so loud that the place begins to shake. Bruce comes stomping from out back, eyeing around the building with a slight smirk on his face, one that almost says "thank you." He cracks his neck from side to side and focuses in on the two in the ring as if Bruce was a wolf and they were slices of bleeding meat. As he approaches the ring, he and Stone lock eyes for a moment. Some tension can be felt, but it all comes apart when Stone lifts his fist and they bump knuckles. Zellor drops his title on the floor and they both charge in the ring.
BILL HEWSON: There's the bell, and this match is officially underway! Bruce and Thomas exchanging blows, Darko and Zellor exchanging blows, and this place feels like it's going to crumble with all the noise!
JACK JONES: Could you be anymore of a stereotypical wrestling color commentator?
Zellor and the Beast both gain the upper hand on their opponents, getting them near the ropes and simutaneously clotheslining them over the top rope and to the outside. Both men raise their hands to a massive ovation and slap hands.
BILL HEWSON: It looks like Bruce is starting off this match, as Stone Zellor goes to the corner.
Prince Darko and Thomas Young are furious about the start of the match, shouting and name calling from the outside. Finally they settle down, with Darko taking his stance on the apron and Young entering himself as the legal man. Bruce and Young circle each other, sizing each other up, and then they go right into a standing grapple. Both men refusing to give until Bruce pushes Young down flat on his ass. The fans cheer and laugh as Thomas shakes his head in disbelief and frustration. He hops back to his feet and runs right back into another grapple, this time quickly applying a side headlock. He tries to apply pressure, but Bruce pushes him to the ropes--Young comes back with a clothesline, Bruce ducks, Young goes off the opposite side and comes back to get a HUGE boot to the face. Thomas on the ground holding his nose as the fans chant, "BRUCE!BRUCE!BRUCE!BRUCE!" The Beast smiles, and waits for his opponent to get back up.
BILL HEWSON: While it's still early, we have yet to see any offense from the former Rebel tag team champions. Bruce and Stone have dominated the match thus far.
JACK JONES: If you want to talk about domination, well, get Bubbles down here and I'll show you what domination is.
BILL HEWSON: You're sick, you know that?
JACK JONES: Is it wrong if I say yes?
Thomas Young gets back up to his feet, holding his face, to see Bruce waiting for him. Richards locks in the grapple yet again, but Young slides out and hops back to his corner to tag in Darko. The Prince looks slightly hesitant to get in, but as he does, he points at Zellor and demands Bruce tags out. Richards looks back to his partner, Zellor, who is shaking his head vigirously, jumping on the bottom rope and throwing his hand out. Richards shrugs and moves back to tag out, but Prince drop kicks Richards in the back, sending him down to one knee in the corner. Zellor slaps him on the back to tag himself in, and runs in at Darko. The Prince ducks Zellor's clothesline attempt and gets caught with a back elbow in the face from Young who never left the ring! Young and Darko give each other a nod, both grab the Beast from under his arms and whip him out of the ring. Zellor is back on his feet, and fires a punch at Darko, then a punch at Young, another punch at Darko! Then the big man, Young, throws a knee in his gut, doubling over the 171 pounder. Young and Darko assault Stone Zellor to the ground with a flury of punches and kicks. As they get him to the ground, Darko locks on a grounded chicken wing, and yells a command to Young. Thomas smiles, then bounces off the ropes and jumps down into a massive knee drop on the back of Zellor's shoulder!
BILL HEWSON: That's Stone's injured shoulder! And the referee isn't stepping in to stop any of this! Hey ref, this is NAPW, not Rebel, break it up already!
JACK JONES: Calm down Bill, these guys aren't here to wrestle, they're here to fight. Let them have a little fun.
BILL HEWSON: They may be here to fight, but rules are in place for a reason.
JACK JONES: Yeah, to be broken.
Young and Darko take turns stomping on the shoulder of Stone, as Zellor writhes in pain. Darko leaves his partner as Young continues to stomp away at the soft spot.
BILL HEWSON: Finally, Darko is going back to his corner.
JACK JONES: Yeah he is... to take off the turnbuckle pad.
BILL HEWSON: Oh c'mon!
Richards is back up and in the ring, much to the approval of the fans! He clubs Young in the back of the head, and follows up with several more. Darko plays quiet in the far corner as Richards beats Young into the ropes, then backs up and clotheslines Young over the top--but Richards goes with him! Leaving a practically unscathed Darko and a stirring Zellor in the ring. Darko waists no time, and runs at Stone and drops another knee, putting a stop to Zellor's attempt to get up. Darko grabs two fist-fulls of Zellor's hair and rips him off the mat and to his feet. The Prince brings Zellor face-to-face, and yells obscenities in the face of Dynamite.
JACK JONES: OUCH! I think I just felt that.
BILL HEWSON: Stone just kicked the Prince in his crown jewels!
JACK JONES: If there was a time for a referee to speak up, it would be... NOW!
BILL HEWSON: After he let Young and Darko get away with all that double-teaming, I'm glad to see that he's relaxing the rules for the otherside as well.
Zellor reels back, PIMP SLAP! The backhand sends Darko to his hands and knees, as Zellor yells out to the crowd, "I'VE GOT SKILLZ..." but Darko finishes it for him as he jumps up and pastes him with running DDT and shouts "BITCH!" The crowd hates every minute of it, but Darko doesn't care. He picks the fallen Zellor off the mat, and whips him as hard as he can shoulder first into the exposed turnbuckle! Stone recoils and falls onto the mat, grasping his injury.
Meanwhile on the outside, Richards and Young go blow for blow, each man trying to get the upper hand.
BILL HEWSON: Young is certainly holding his own against Richards, who, I hear has been dismissing him as a nobody all week.
Richards slams Young's head off the barricade, letting off a loud THUNK! Richards backs up, and comes at Young full steams ahead, but Thomas moves out of the way just in time, throwing himself to the ground near the ring. Bruce stops himself before doing any damage to himself, and turns to peel Young off the floor--
BILL HEWSON: NO! Young just crushed Bruce's skull with a steel chair! He must have gotten it from underneath the ring!
JACK JONES: You'd be suprised what you find underneath that ring. Steel chairs, tables, fire extinguishers, cooking sheets, stop signs... heh, where do you think I got this suit from?
Bruce falls back, catching himself on the barricade with one hand, and grabbing his head in pain with the other. Thomas gets up, hovering over the Beast with sadistic intent. He cocks the chair all the way back...
BILL HEWSON: Oh god no...
JACK JONES: Don't worry Bill, it's not steel to the head can make him any dumber, in fact, it might help.
Young yells as he begins to swing the chair down with all his might, but it's taken from him from Darko reaching from inside the ring. Thomas turns around with frustration yelling, "WHAT THE F*CK MAN!?!"
All we hear Darko say in return is, "THANKS!" And he turns around to an almost broken Zellor, who he has been working over the entire time Young and Bruce have been duking it out on the outside. Young shakes his head in aggrivation, then climbs into the ring to help his partner. The Foundation bring Stone to his feet, and push him up against the ropes. Thomas Young forces his arm free from cradling, and he stretches it out across the top rope. Darko lurches back, and CRUNCH! Right on the Stone's shoulder, and the entire crowd lets out an "Ooooh" in sympathy. Stone wants to fall to the mat, but the Foundation keep him up against the ropes, as the referee warns them about using the chair.
BILL HEWSON: Since when are the rules relaxed so much that you never have to tag out and you can use a steel chair whenever you want? Aside from matches that nulify disqualifications, I have never seen a match so completely void of rules.
JACK JONES: They are our guests, Bill. They're used to one way, so let's just give it to them.
BILL HEWSON: They used to work here, Jack! Not to mention they show up just about every show anyway!
Darko puts the chair down meticuously in the center of the ring, as Young stretches out Stone's injured shoulder, and puts him in the pumphandle. You've all seen this before...
BILL HEWSON: PUMP-HANDLE FALL-AWAY SLAM ONTO THE CHAIR, AND STONE'S SHOULDER TOOK THE BRUNT OF THE IMPACT! This is getting sick!
JACK JONES: The referee is giving them both stern warnings Bill, what else do you want from him?
BILL HEWSON: You're only going to make me more angry.
JACK JONES: I know.
The Foundation hover over the broken Provincial Champion with looks that could kill. Prince Darko drops to his knees and applies a cross-face cover. The referee counts....
1....
2....
3noooo!
BILL HEWSON: THANKGOD! I thought it was over!
Bruce pulls Darko out of the ring before the final count and begins beating the ever living hell out of him! Young exits the ring to help his partner, but Bruce leaves Darko and beats the hell out of Young as well! The Beast grabs Young by the back of the head and Darko by the back of the afro, and CLUNK! The jarring sound of two skulls colliding echos through the building. Bruce leaves Darko on the outside floor to hold his head, and rolls Young into the ring. Richards follows in, and it doesn't take long for him to spot the chair. He points down to the mangled steel and looks to the crowd who all roar in unison for the Beast to use the chair. Richards yanks Young to his feet, hoists him up across his shoulders...
BILL HEWSON: He's going for the CHART ATTACK!
The Beast lines himself up with the chair... but Young has wrapped his legs and arms around Bruce's arms, he can't finish the move. Richards struggles to throw Young into the finishing manuever, but Young won't budge! Finally Bruce just shrugs, and throws himself back, hitting a wicked Samoan drop! It didn't hit the chair, but Young was in pain nonetheless. Darko is back in the ring with another chair, and blasts Richards on the back from behind. Bruce stumbles forward, but doesn't go down! He turns back to face Darko, who shakes his head in disbelief. Bruce angrily stalks forward, Darko swings the chair at him, but Bruce grabs it! Darko and Bruce yank back and forth for posession of the chair, and finally Richards wins the tugging contest, and Darko looks like he's about to shit himself. Richard's cocks the chair back--BUT NO! Young jams the remaining chair in Richard's knee cap, and Bruce falls down and lets go of the chair. The Foundation, both with steel chairs in hand, stand over Richards. Darko pulls his back first to strike, but Stone has grabbed Darko's ankle, trying to stop him!
BILL HEWSON: Stone, with what little he has left in him, has tried to stop the Foundation from assaulting his partner... but I think this is only going to turn their attention to Stone!
Indeed it does... Prince Darko kicks Stone's hand away, and rams the end of the chair into his shoulder. Stellor screams in pain as Young hits a bone-crunching chairshot to Zellor's back. Both Foundation members both drive their chairshots into Stone again, and the referee is finally stepping in, trying to take Darko's chair away. The Prince simple shoves the referee off, sending him to the mat, and turns to continue his assault on Stone Zellor. Finally the referee has had enough, after losing order, he finally calls for the bell.
0 FRANK WARBURTON: The winners of this match, by disqualification, Stone Zellor and Bruce "The Beast" Richards!
BILL HEWSON: Someone get out here, they won't leave poor Stone Zellor alone! Wait, Richards is back up!
As Young cocks back to take another shot, Richards grabs the chair from behind and yanks it away, throwing it to the ground. Thomas turns to throw a fist, but Richard's blocks it, and throws Young up onto his shoulders once again!
BILL HEWSON: There's no blocking it this time! CHART ATTACK!
The fans pop for the finisher, but Darko runs at Richards with the chair! Bruce punches it right back into Prince Darko's face! Darko stumbles back, and Bruce grabs and hoists Darko up as well! ANOTHER CHART ATTACK!
BILL HEWSON: The Foundation came here to hurt these two, and not only did they end up disqualified, but both face down in the middle of the ring!
JACK JONES: Why did Bruce have to come back?
Richards helps Stone to his feet, slowly, then raises his (good) arm in victory. The fans give Bruce "The Beast" Richards and "Dynamite" Stone Zellor a HUGE ovation, with both Foundation members still out cold in the middle of the ring.
JACK JONES: And that's when I knew it WASN'T herpes.
BILL HEWSON: I hardly think THAT is much better.
JACK JONES: Well no. I live every day in agony. Now you know my true pain.
Forget it! Hit the music! "FRANKENSTEIN" kicks it up, and the crowd reacts with jeers and boos as the big lumberjack from BC comes out in his trademark sleeveless red flannel vest and worn blue jeans. He looks intent as he heads towards the ring. Set up near the ring is a small bar with cooler. A waitress in full-on cocktailer outfit is there, along with a bow-tied bartender. Kodiak grins and says "Better have lots of cold beer, because I'm gettin' Link's money's worth."
FRANK WARBURTON: The following no-holds barred contest is set for one fall, with the stipulation that the loser buys the beer! Introducing first from Salmon River, British Columbia, he weighs in at six-feet, eight inches tall and weighs two-hundred and sixty-two pounds! KEVINNNN KODIAAAAAK!
Kevin is in the ring, testing the ropes. He looks out to the entrance way. Man In The Box picks up and Link Van Haggard walks out clad in his red leather trenchcoat.
BILL HEWSON: Certainly a unique stipulation here, but perhaps the only way to settle the issue between Kevin Kodiak and Link Van Haggard. They were a tag team several months ago, until Kodiak turned on his young protege. Since then they have engaged in wars and brawls on every NAPW show, and tonight, it comes down to this: No Holds Barred, and the loser buys the beer!
JACK JONES: Knowing these two, that's going to be one steep bar tab!
FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! From Napier New Zealand, he weighs in at one-hundred and eighty pounds and stands five-foot eleven, Linnnnk Vannnn Haggarrrrrrd!
Link slides into the ring and hits a corner. Kodiak charges and blasts him from behind before the bell, hell, before Link's even taken his coat off. Kodiak pounding on Link in the corner, trying to wear the kid out before this even gets going. Irish whip sends Haggard into the opposite turnbuckle hard, he staggers backwards into a BIG backdrop suplex by Kodiak!
BILL HEWSON: Oh come on now, Kodiak just pulled the coat over Haggard's head! His arms are caught!
JACK JONES: Kodiak showing off the best moves in hockey, the jersey-pull! Only it's a coat.
BILL HEWSON: Thank you... oh, Kodiak sends Haggard down to the canvas, we have a cover! One, only a one count. Link gives up almost a foot and eighty pounds to Kodiak, but we have seen some incredible heart from this kid. It was only last week that he nearly upset Donovan Astros for the World Title, and this one is personal!
JACK JONES: And financial!
Kodiak throttles Link on the canvas, nothing Referee Dick Kiebiech can do about it. It's No Holds Barred. Kevin picks Link up and pulls the coat off, oh no, now he's choking the man with it! Kodiak sticks his knee into Link's back and drives him down, the coat wrapped around Link's throat. Ack. Ack. Kodiak releases as Link hits the canvas, coughing. Kodiak tosses the coat out to the crowd ---
Whoops, thrown right back! Kodiak says screw you fans, tosses it back. Thrown back into the ring again! Kodiak goes to throw it one more time, says screw it, and dumps it over the top rope onto the floor. Kodiak going back to Link, pulling him up by the hair. Link with a shot to the breadbasket stuns Kodiak! Link with another shot, then he hits the ropes... Dropkick! That puts Kodiak down, but he's right back up, so's Link, another perfect dropkick to the face! Link grabs a leg, one, tw--- Kodiak kicks out with authority! Link chops on Kodiak, then irish whips the man, Kodiak reverses, Link off the ropes... into a SPINEBUSTER! Or is that a PINE buster from Kodiak? Either way, Kodiak with a cover gets two. He picks the man up and rips off Link's shirt, yelling "THIS IS HOW WE CHOP IN SALMON RIVER!"
THWACK
OOOOOH.
JACK JONES: The man used to make his living chopping down trees, and he's brought it over to the wrestling ring! How you like him now, huh?
BILL HEWSON: I like him fine, thank you very much, as a competitor. His attitude I could do without! Haggard again on the defensive here as Kodiak lays into him with meaty fists. Link has to keep this match airborne, that's where his offense comes from, his speed and agility! Trying to brawl with Kevin Kodiak or match strength, that's not going to get anybody very far.
Kodiak scoop slams Link and drops a big elbow, two count out of it. Kodiak digs his forearm across the face and pins again, one, two, kick-out. Again a cover one, two, kick-out! AGAIN a cover, one, two, kick-out! Link using energy with every kick-out as Kodiak wears him down. Kevin picks the kid up, hooks a front face-lock, and then pauses. He looks out over the crowd, yelling "what do you think of the kid now, huh?" Boooo. Kodiak ignores them and pulls Link up for a vertical suplex, falling back with impact. But what's this? Kodiak isn't going for the cover, instead, he goes to the top rope.
JACK JONES: That's two-hundred plus pounds about to take flight! You ever seen a bear fly, Hewson? You're about to!
BILL HEWSON: If Kodiak hits this it's all over! He's up to the top... and he flies! Nobody home! Haggard moved, and now he's on the top rope! This is where Haggard is at his best --- no! Kodiak shoves the man off, oh my gosh! Haggard to the concrete below, into the guardrail!
Kodiak takes a breather as Link is in a heap outside the ring, he may have hurt his leg on the landing. Kodiak climbs to the top again, and then shades of Randy Savage, comes off with a big double ax-handle chop to Haggard, sending the man back down again. Kodiak pulls the kid up by the hair and slams him down to the concrete. Referee yelling at Kodiak to bring it in the ring, you can't win it outside! That said, there are no count-outs and no DQs and Kodiak can keep Link out there as long as he wants.
Kodiak sends Haggard reeling with an irish whip to the next corner, they're near the "bar" now. Kodiak grabs Haggard by the face and slams it right into the table, then grabs a can of Foster's Lager. "Here's your warm shitty beer!" He busts the can right over Haggard's forehead, oh dear. Foamy suds explode all over and certainly Link is cut on the forehead. Kodiak stands on top of the bar table as the waitress and bartender scramble for cover, celebrating. Crowd gives it to him. Kevin shrugs and then drops down. He puts his back to the table... What's he doing here? Kodiak hooks up Haggard, he's going to suplex the man into the table! Link blocks! Kodiak hammers on the kid's back, Link still finds the strength to block... Firing away into the ribs! Haggard with fists of fury onto Kodiak! He's got the big man reeling, oh, it's a big knee lift from Kodiak to stop it. He lifts Link onto his shoulders and goes to ram him into the ring post, Link slips behind! Kodiak head first into the STEEL ring post instead! Crowd comes alive as Link starts throwing everything he's got at Kodiak! Link grabs the man by the head, bashes him into the edge of the ring. Another shot, and now Link smacks Kodiak with a spin kick... and Kodiak is laid out on top of the table!
BILL HEWSON: Link Van Haggard is gaining momentum here, but he's going to go high risk! Haggard is on the top rope... Kodiak isn't moving! HAGAAAARDDD--- BULLET THE BLUE SKY THROUGH THE TABLE! OH MY GOODNESS, BOTH MEN ARE BROKEN IN HAAAAALF!
The crowd is ON THEIR FEET!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
Both men are down in the wreckage of table legs and wood pieces, the crowd just roaring. Kodiak is blinking, but almost looks like nobody's home. Link pulls himself up, soaked in a mixture of blood, sweat and beer. He reaches into the ice chest and pulls out a Foster's, opens it, and pours it down his own throat, baby! Then he bashes the can on his OWN head Sandman style!
LINK IS FIRED UP! AND POWERED BY ALCOHOL!
He grabs Kodiak and rolls him into the ring, COVER! ONE! TWO! Kodiak kicks out! How did he do that? Too much time, but Link is feeling it now! He raises his fist, then pulls Kodiak up... rear waist lock! Can he do it... GERMAN SUPLEX! WOW! With the bridge!
ONE! TWO!
KICK-OUT!
Kodiak gets out of it, but Haggard gets right back to his feet. Hits the ropes... KENTA KNEEEEE! COVERRR!
ONE!
TWO!
KICK-OUT!
To the ropes, Kodiak puts on the breaks, tries a lariat, Haggard ducks, BACKSLIDE!
ONE!
TWO!
THKICKOUT!
ENZIGURIIIIII!
ONE!
TWO!
KICK OUUUUUUUUUT HOWWWWWWW?
BILL HEWSON: VAN HAGGARD IS ROLLING! HE'S GOT KODIAK REELING, NEAR FALLS! OH MY GOODNESS WHAT A MATCH! HAGGARD GOING TO THE TOP ROPE ONCE AGAIN! THIS COULD DO IT --- Oh no, Kodiak cuts him off!
JACK JONES: I don't like the looks of this, Hewson!
BILL HEWSON: Kodiak trying a SUPERPLEX on Haggard, no! Link fighting his way out! They're battling in a precarious position... wait! What's this? NO WAY!
JACK JONES: NOT POSSIBLE!
BILL HEWSON: DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF! LINK VAN HAGGARD SOMEHOW HITS THE DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF FROM THE TOP ROPE! CAN HE COVER?! ONE! TWO! THREE---NO! KODIAK GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPE!
Link can't BELIEVE it, hell, neither can this crowd. Kodiak just barely, barely got his foot on the rope before the three or that was all she wrote. Link sits up, trying to catch his breath and think of his next move. He pulls Kodiak up, measures the man, and then runs the ropes, spinning neck-breaker! Link goes to the top rope... ONE MORE TIME!
BULLET THE BLUE SKY!
HITS KNEES.
Haggard reeling in pain, Kodiak still down. The referee begins to make his count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
We've got some movement, Haggard reaching out for the ropes. Kodiak is slowly pushing up.
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
Both men up before the ten count. They meet in the middle of the ring, Kodiak firing a big right hand to Haggard. Link sags, but then fires back with a forearm shot to the face of Kodiak. He reels... CHOP from Kodiak! Link stumbles backwards, but then STEP UP ENZIGURI --- NO! KODIAK DUCKS! HE'S GOT THE LEG, STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Yanks up on Haggard's leg, DRIVES it back into the canvas! And now Kodiak goes to work, taking Haggard's leg out from under him. Leg on the bottom rope, Haggard leaps up and crashes down on it. And then?
FIGURE-FOUR LEGLOCK, bear trap style!
BILL HEWSON: In the center of the ring! Nowhere for Link to go! This could be all!
JACK JONES: Could be? Nobody escapes a bear trap, Hewson!
Crowd is chanting PLEASE DON'T TAP, PLEASE DON'T TAP as Kodiak cinches in the hold! Haggard is yelling in pain, flailing... his shoulders on the canvas! ONE! TWO! Haggard up! Back down, another count, Link gets his shoulders up!
He's reaching out for the ropes... referee is right there, whaddaya say Link? And while the ref isn't looking, Kodiak reaches out for the ropes nearest him, grabbing them for added leverage, not to mention preventing Link from scooting close enough to the other ropes!
Ref checks in, Kodiak's hands are off the ropes. Link is fading, fading, how much more can he take. He reaches out to the ropes... can't make it. Just can't make it.
Kodiak again grabs the ropes as the ref is in tight on Haggard. He shakes the ropes, Link yelling in more pain as Kodiak squeezes with his legs. Referee looks up, Kodiak's hands are off the ropes. Link is fading...fading... and the referee grabs his arm. Lifts it up once.
It falls.
One. The referee picks up the arm again, lifts it up...
It drops.
Two. One more and it's all over!
Referee lifts the arm... lifts it up, lets go...
It fallllsnnnnoooo!
BILL HEWSON: There's still life in Link Van Haggard, by God! Can he turn it over! He's trying! He won't back down, he won't give up this way! He's trying to turn it, Kodiak trying to stop him... LINK TURNS IT OVER! The pain now onto Kodiak's legs, and he's quickly into the ropes.
JACK JONES: Where did he get that energy from?
BILL HEWSON: Your guess is as good as mine, but Haggard needs to get some offense going right now while Kodiak is stunned! Come on, kid!
Kodiak is up first, he grabs Haggard... irish whip! Link ducks the clothesline, hits the ropes, ducks a back elbow and skids to a stop, backflip ENZIGURIIIIII! Kodiak down to one knee, sagging but not going down, Haggard hits the ropes SHINNNNING WIZAAAAAARD! Kodiak slumps! HAGGARD COVERS!
ONE!
TWO!
TH---KICK-OUT!
Haggard picks Kodiak up, WHAM, Kodiak with a BIG shot right to the gut of Haggard. He hooks him up and lifts... STALLING! You know what they call this? They call this TIMBERRRRRRRRRRRRR! Kodiak jackhammers Haggard down to the canvas with sudden, shocking impact. He hooks the leg. ONE. TWO. THREE---
KICKOUT
KICKOUT
KICKOUT
BILL HEWSON: HE KICKED OUT! HE KICKED OUT! HOW THE HELL DID HE KICK OUT OF TIMBER?
JACK JONES: NO NO NO! SLOW COUNT REF! COME ON!
BILL HEWSON: Kevin Kodiak is BESIDE himself! He can't believe this! How in the hell did Link kick out, that's what we'd all like to know! But Link, that might have been all he had left! Kodiak picks the kid up, he's calling for another TIMBER! HERE IT COMESINSIDECRADLE ONE, TWO, THREE----
KODIAK KICKS OUT! SO CLOSE! SO CLOSE! LINK GETTING UP, KODIAK THROWS HIS ELBOW PAD OFF! OFF THE ROPES ---- LARIATTTOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
JACK JONES: HOLEEEE HELLLLLLL!
BILL HEWSON: HAGGARD TURNED INSIDE OUT, COVER, ONE, TWO, THREEEE! KODIAK WINS IT! WHAT A MATCH! WHAT A MATCH!
FRANK WARBURTON: HERE IS YOUR WINNER... KEVINNNNN KOOOOODIAK!
BILL HEWSON: After one of the damndest matches we've seen in NAPW, from two men who have worked so hard over the past few months... say what you will about either man, that was a classic match, between two amazing professional wrestlers!
JACK JONES: I... I don't have anything to add to that, we're sweating just announcing it! You more than me, of course.
The crowd, though unhappy Haggard lost, is on their feet, applauding, chanting "THAT WAS AWESOME, THAT WAS AWESOME." Both men are laying down, exhausted. They begin to get up, slowly. Haggard pulls himself up in the corner as Kodiak rolls out of the ring... he moves towards the announcer table and grabs one of the mics. Kodiak eaches into his blue jean pocket and pulls out a crisp $20 bill.
KODIAK: Hey bartender! I know the stipulation, but hey, this first round is on me! (holds up the $20 bill) Send me over an ice cold Molson's and give my Kiwi buddy one of those skunky beers at room temperature!
Kodiak grabs a towel from the announce table and wipes his brow.
KODIAK: But while I wait for my beer, I got a few things I need to discuss here. First things first... Lets look at the Crimes and their arrangement with me. Let me fill you all in on the status of me and them. Here it is simply... I got a phone call, asked me what I was doing on a given day, I replied nothing, was told that there was a payday if I followed some instructions, my bank account needed a little padding, I accepted. I found myself in Raleigh North Carolina, with a role of being hired help for the Crimes in their match. That was fine, I showed up, did what I was asked, got my cheque and that was it as far as I was concerned. Next thing I know I get recruited again to help out in a match back in NAPW... well let me tell ya all... all you fans of NAPW! They got more then their money bought them, so from this day on... No more KODIAK in with the Crimes! You got yourselves some cage of death match coming you next week, well find another flunky for your team! My days with you are done, I thank you for the cheque and the trip to Raleigh, but that's it for me and you. No hard feelings, just the way it is. I keep to myself, no friends and less enemies!
The waitress arrives with a nice cold bottle of Molson's at ring side, hands it to Kodiak, and he cracks open the cap and takes a long drink from the bottle. The crowd is listening intently, many cheering Kodiak's dissing of The Crimes.
KODIAK: That's what I call beer... ice cold and tasty... man it goes down smooth! Now to my next topic here. Has to do with just what ya all saw here in the Legion. Van Haggard and me, wrestling for our fill of these (holds up the bottle), loser pays the bill, but I need to address something before I get down to business. Here it is and I ain't gonna go on and on about it. Van Haggard! Kid, you gave me one hell of a match, and maybe I got the win... but you are one hell of a wrestler. We have been through many battles, by each other's side, and across the ring from each other, and every time you come prepared putting out all ya got... and to that I say "CHEERS!" ( holds up his beer)
Now enough is enough between us. We got more important business to attend to now... Bartender another round for me and my pal! We are done feuding... now we gotta start some serious drinking...! Kodiak pulls out another $20 bill, puts down the mic on the announce table and walks towards the bar, grabbing a couple more beers. He rolls into the ring and walks towards the uncertain Van Haggard. Kodiak hands him a Foster's... Haggard accepts. Kodiak taps his bottle on Haggard's, and sucks back the tasty beverage. Crowd applauds wildly and Haggard tips his own beer back, draining it down. Kodiak grabs Haggard's arm and lifts it up, pointing to the man.
BILL HEWSON: Well! Not really the finish we expected. Kodiak wins tonight and wins the feud, but it seems that the issue is done for... Kodiak showing respect for Link Van Haggard and the guts he brought here tonight!
The crowd is buzzing, waiting for the next match, when all of a sudden, the lights dim! In each corner of the Ogden Legion Hall, flashbulbs begin going off. Lots of them. The excitement in the building is palpable as music kicks in over the PA....
"Your construction... smells like corruption...
I manipulate... to recreate...
This air to ground saga...
Gotta launder... my karma..."
JACK JONES: Here comes the champ, Bill!
BILL HEWSON: I wonder who paid for this gaudy entrance!
A few people in the audience know the song and start reacting, mostly negative. The flashbulbs are getting closer together, almost a constant wave of light. The lights at the curtain area start coming back...
"I SAID HALLELUJAH!"
Anyone who didn't recognize the theme music before does now, and the crowd reaction is about 80-20 against the man stepping through the curtain, the NAPW World Heavyweight Champion, Donovan Astros, title belt around his waist, wearing a pressed button-down shirt and slacks. Astros isn't here to wrestle, he's here to celebrate. Around his waist is the NAPW World Title belt, shined and buffed, reflecting the flashbulb pops around the arena. Astros smirks and laughs, arms outstretched, soaking in the reaction and the moment. Astros climbs into the ring and poses in the center of the ring as all the flashbulbs pop at once, and then the building lights come back on. Astros has a microphone in hand... this could be a long night.
DONOVAN ASTROS: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the global phenomenon known as the Worldwide Astrocide!
Astros pauses for a second, letting the crowd boo more.
DONOVAN ASTROS: Welcome to the place where stars fade and heroes fall, outshined by the greatest wrestler on God's green Earth and now YOUR NAPW World Heavyweight Champion! No one thought that I could do this. No one thought that I could beat Ravager. No one thought I could survive in an ECFW ring with a hostile crowd, hostile conditions, and opponents like Link Van Haggard, but! But I am standing before each and every one of you today to let you know that, yes, I am still the NAPW World Champion, and yes, I am the best wrestler in the world today, and yes, you will know me as the hardest working champion NAPW has ever seen!
The crowd boos, insulted by the arrogance displayed by the champ.
BILL HEWSON: Considering the man that held the title before him, Ravager, Astros has a long way to go before he can call himself the best ever.
JACK JONES: What are you talking about? Astros won the title, hopped on a plane immediately afterwards, and went and defended the title in Australia twice! I didn't see Ravager doing that!
DONOVAN ASTROS: And as the hardest working champion in the world, I wanted to come here tonight and defend my title again, for the third time in 3 weeks, however... due to my hectic travel schedule, and because of a slight groin pull which occurred in one of Sydney's finer gentleman's establishments...
Astros puts his hand on his inner thigh and 'doubles over in pain', winking to the crowd, which has gone from 80-20 to about 90-10 in booing Astros.
DONOVAN ASTROS: Because of that, I've been advised not to wrestle tonight. But fear not, NAPW fans! Next Tuesday night, at Complete Control II, not only will you see some guys go at it in a Cage of Death match, but in the main event, you'll see Donovan Astros defend his NAPW World Title!
JACK JONES: What a main event that's gonna be!
BILL HEWSON: You're kidding, right? Cage of Death is going to be the most important match in this company's history and Astros wants to call his match the main event?
DONOVAN ASTROS: Now, I've looked far and wide for an opponent next week, but I think I found a deserving challenger. A former owner of this company and a long reigning champion. Someone who's been in the ring with the very best and retained his title. My opponent next week will be...
"Bad Boys" begins playing over the PA. The crowd boos even more.
DONOVAN ASTROS: The Bad Boy, Joey Malone!
BILL HEWSON: You have GOT to be kidding me.
JACK JONES: The man who has lost to everyone now gets to lose to the best next Tuesday!
BILL HEWSON: Are you on Astros's payroll?
The music keeps playing, but no Joey Malone. And suddenly, the music changes...
"Surprise! you're dead! guess what! it never ends!"
Astros is in shock and the crowd goes nuts as "The Murder City Devil' Jake Phoenix strolls out to the ring. He has a sinister grin on his face as he stops at the ringside area, the NAPW tag team title belt dangling from one hand. Phoenix grabs a second mic from ringside and climbs onto the apron, then over the top rope into the ring, stopping in the opposite corner from Astros.
JACK JONES: What is Jake Phoenix doing here?! And more importantly, what happened to Joey Malone?
BILL HEWSON: I get the feeling that Malone already lost tonight, but it was backstage to Jake Phoenix! And now Phoenix and Astros are again in the same ring together, former partners turned enemies!
DONOVAN ASTROS: Jake! It's been a long time! What have you been up to? How are the kids? And what did you do with my opponent next week?
Phoenix just leans into one corner and chuckles slightly, before looking right at Astros.
JAKE PHOENIX: You mean that little bitch Joey Malone? It's funny... he was gonna come out here all full of piss and vinegar, till somebody knocked the vinegar out and made him piss himself to boot. I wonder who that was?
The crowd cheers the apparent destruction of Joey Malone.
JAKE PHOENIX: As for what I've been doin' lately? The same as you - going all over the place and comin' back with gold to boot - 'cept it seems like your belt's a bit higher up the food chain than mine, isn't it?
DONOVAN ASTROS: Well, you're on your way to being the longest reigning tag champion of all time here in NAPW, but yeah, being the World champ does have its privileges. Now, Jake, I know why you're here... you're here to congratulate the best tag team partner you've ever had on his reign as champion!
BILL HEWSON: I don't think Phoenix is out here to congratulate Astros.
JAKE PHOENIX: Y'know, that's partially right. When that match happened, I was the only one that said you had a (BLEEP)in' chance to beat Ravager, and you did. So good for you on that. But that ain't the reason I'm out here...
Phoenix slowly walks up to Astros till he's chest to chest with him, and looks down at him.
JAKE PHOENIX: ... I want that (BLEEP)in' title. And I want it next Tuesday night.
BILL HEWSON: Here we go! There's a title match the fans want to see!
JACK JONES: Which fans? Jake Phoenix has been unstoppable for weeks! I don't think Donovan Astros's fans want to see him accept this challenge!
Astros looks right up at the Murder City Devil, sneering. The crowd is murmuring... Astros brings the microphone up to his mouth... but then turns away from the staredown and heads back to one of the corners, turning back to face Phoenix from a distance.
JACK JONES: Smart, smart decision by the champ, no reason to let your emotions get a hold of you.
DONOVAN ASTROS: It's not that simple, Jake! You don't just walk in here and get all buddy-buddy and expect me to give you the first title shot! You burned that bridge a long time ago, pal! I did everything for you, Jake, I gave you your nickname, I made you marketable, and you turned your back on me! You left the fold! And now you wanna come back and get the first shot at greatness? Just what in the hell have you done to deserve it?
Phoenix walks back up to astros, now effectively trapping him in a corner. He looks down on the champ again.
JAKE PHOENIX: I beat you. I dropped you on your (BLEEP)in' head and pinned you one-two-three to take this tag title after you tried to (BLEEP) me over. You talk about how you did everything for me? How about how I made sure that all the vultures around here didn't tear your (BLEEP)'in head off because I was around to save your ass? Without me, you wouldn't have that belt, and you know it.
Astros looks back up at Jake. There's anger in Astros' eyes now.
DONOVAN ASTROS: You didn't do a God damned thing for me, Jake! By myself, I beat you. By myself, I beat Ravager! By myself, I've become the NAPW World Champion, and that's not thanks to you, Jake, that's in spite of you turning your back on me! In spite of you Tombstoning me! And if you think for one second that you can do it again and take this...
Astros unhooks the napw world title from around his waist and holds it up in phoenix's face.
DONOVAN ASTROS: Then you're dead wrong.
JAKE PHOENIX: Then prove it.
BILL HEWSON: Tensions are beginning to flare here in the Legion Hall!
JACK JONES: Just hold out for Joey Malone next week, Donovan!
The crowd is screaming and cheering here, egging Astros on to accept Phoenix's challenge. a chant of '(bleep) 'em up, Phoenix, (bleep) em up!' is beginning to build.
JAKE PHOENIX: You're the one always talkin' up a storm about what you can do and who you'll do it to. It's all you've ever done. You think you're the best (BLEEP)in' wrestler in NAPW because you got Ravager before I did and because you squeaked by two Aussie punks, but you haven't proven (BLEEP) to me yet. The last time we were in the ring together, I left you laying and walked out with your belt. You think you can change that? You can't - the only thing you can do is try to beat me when it matters. And I don't think you can.
DONOVAN ASTROS: You want me to prove it, big man? You want a shot next week? YOU GOT IT.
Hyoooge pop. The crowd is electric at the prospects of the former Murder City Devils exploding once and for all.
BILL HEWSON: Listen to this crowd! This is the match they want to see!
DONOVAN ASTROS: Just remember one thing, Jake. Don't get delusional. You never made me. I made you. And Tuesday night, you will be the next star to fade in the Worldwide Astrocide.
Astros turns to leave through the ropes, but Jake Phoenix grabs his wrist.
JAKE PHOENIX: Donnie, the only thing I'm going to make you.. is a (BLEEP)in' statistic.
Astros steps through the ropes and down to the floor, holding the NAPW title above his head. Jake Phoenix is making the universal 'I want the belt' motion. 'surprise! you're dead' plays over the PA again as Astros walks to the back, leaving Phoenix to gather applause in the ring.
JACK JONES: This is bad for the champ! I don't see how he's going to stop Jake Phoenix!
BILL HEWSON: Two months ago, Donovan Astros wrapped a chair around the head of Jake Phoenix, ending the Murder City Devils once and for all! Next Tuesday, for the NAPW World Title, the two wildest of wildcards in NAPW square off! What an announcement!
It should be intermission, but the fans are shocked back into their seats by a sudden roar. A roar? Why, yes, because with no warning whatsoever Mystic Ninja comes tumbling through the curtain, followed by "American Nightmare" Matthew Kurtis. The big blue bad-ass hauls up Mystic Ninja, who is bloody on the forehead and smashes him with a big right hand, sending Ninja stumbling towards the ring. From out of the curtain come Chad Kurtis and Expositioner at a brawl!
Kurtis has Ninja up on his shoulders, oh no! Gorilla press --- and Ninja is dropped throat-first across the guardrail. He kicks the concrete, gasping for air as Matthew Kurtis yells at the jeering front row fans. It seems that Bluegrass Mafia aren't done with Mystic Exposition!
Chad with an irish whip to Expostioner into the guardrail --- reversed! The Show careens into the steel, watch out! Big dropkick by Expositioner right to the mush. Expositioner pulls Chad up by the hair
CRACK
American Nightmare indeed, Matt Kurtis just smashed a steel chair across the back of Expositioner. Matt grabs the microphone.
MATT: You want to take about a level playing field, huh? You don't like the hardcore? PULL THIS BASTARD UP, CHAD! I'll show what you get when you cross the BLUEGRASS MAFIA!
Chad shakes the cobwebs loose and stomps Expositioner, rolling him into the ring. Bluegrass Bomb coming up --- here comes Mystic Ninja! You can't keep him down that easily! Ninja is trying to wear out the big man with kicks and chops! Dropkick! Another one! He's got Matt Kurtis in the corner, leaps up. He starts punching away! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR --- no! Chad Kurtis now with the steel chair shot! Ninja sags as Matt gets his arms underneath the man, oh no! HOISTS HIM UP! BLUEGRASSSS BOMB...
ON TOP OF EXPOSITIONER!
Matt Kurtis stares out at the crowd with an ugly expression on his face as Chad Kurtis cockily lounges in the corner, HBK style. The crowd showers the BGM with boos, even throwing a couple cups into the ring.
Next week these two teams meet, but now it's gotten personal. Just who will come out on top?
JACK JONES: So I say, but I just won 100 dollars! Ha!
BILL HEWSON: That's a disgusting story. Our next contest is one we are tremendously excited for. It has been a long time since we have seen Static in the ring, and finally, he steps up himself instead of just attacking from behind. Jeff James put Static through a table a few weeks ago and we have a match that could very well be an NAPW classic! But on the line is much more than pride... the winner will earn the man-advantage in Cage of Death next week. His team will have the first entrance, guaranteeing a two-minute numbers advantage with each new member.
JACK JONES: You said it, Hewson.
FRANK WARBURTON: The following match is for one fall, and is for the Cage of Death team advantage! Introducing first from Chicago Illinois, Jefffff Jaaaaaames!
"Six" by All That Remains picks it up, and Jeff James comes to a tremendous ovation. He slaps hands down the aisle ---
BILL HEWSON: Wait a minute! That's Static from behind, turn around James! No! NO! Static just clipped the injured knee of Jeff James with... a wooden bat!
JACK JONES: It's a miniature-sized oak bokken, Hewson, do your research!
James is clutching his leg in agony as Static twirls his new toy in his hand. Crack once more, and then Static pulls out his other favorite toy.
Screwy.
stab stab stab stab stab
BILL HEWSON: Good God. Static is a sick, sick man.
JACK JONES: Operation Kill Mother(DEAD) version 2.0 is underway!
BILL HEWSON: How can you make light? Static is brutalizing this kid! We should be having a classic match, but...
JACK JONES: We're talking about STATIC, Bill Hewson! The sickest son of a bitch this side of Tommy Deathrow, but I Deathrow makes more sense than the Hardcore Luchadore!
Meanwhile, Static has grabbed James and forcibly dragged him to the ring. Morgan Smythe is yelling at Static, but then Static just leers at her. "Ring the fucking bell!" Smythe snarls, but does so as Static backs off of James.
James is struggling to his feet, he can't put any weight on his right leg whatsoever, blood streaming from his forehead. Static cut deep, too deep. James is pouring bright crimson.
Static closes in.
James tries to fight back, but in no time flat Static kills him with the FUNCRUSHER. James is laid out, but that's not enough. Never enough for Static. He climbs up top, ignoring Smythe's demands to get down. He looks out, flips off every member of the crowd, screams "SUCK MY VOODOOOOO!"
MOMENT
OF
CLARITY
Static covers lazily, counting along as Smythe makes the academic three.
FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match, representing THE CRIMES... Staaaaatic!
BILL HEWSON: What a sorry son of a bitch, what a sneaky little bastard this man is, he never intended to give James any kind of a match! That was a pre-meditated assault, and now The Crimes have the advantage in Cage of Death... Makes me sick.
JACK JONES: I know, it's hard to stomach genius when you're so far from being one.
BILL HEWSON: Why are you trying to justify Static's actions? Grow a spine, Jones!
JACK JONES: Hey, this isn't a game we're playing here Hewson! The Crimes are in it to win it, not sit back and let the inmates run the asylum.
BILL HEWSON: Inmates? Look at that masked freak, there's your inmate!
Static is actually laying on the canvas, twirling his bokken above him as he stares up at the lights. Trainers and staff have come out to help Jeff James out, Stone Zellor among them. Static casually relaxes in the middle of the ring, seemingly counting the lights and ignoring the boos.
Advantage: Crimes.
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the NAPW Tag Team Championship match! It is scheduled for one fall, and will be contested under SUPERSTAR rules!
"Beneath Below" by Isis kicks up, and Billy Kryenik steps out from the curtain along with The Damned. They look poised and ready to kick some ass.
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, the challengers. They weighed in tonight at a combined seven hundred eighty pounds - SIIIIICK BIIIIILLLL-EEEYYY KRYENIK and THE DAAAMNED!
BILL HEWSON: This has been going on for quite some time now. Just a week away from the DOOMriders exploding at Complete Control II, Billy Kryenik and Tommy Deathrow will meet with the Tag Team Championship hanging in the balance. I expect this to be brutal, bloody, and downright scary.
JACK JONES: Wanna know what I expect, Hewson? NEW TAG CHAMPS!
BILL HEWSON: It could very well be, since this is a handicap match in favor of the challengers --- WATCH OUT! It's STD, and he's got a shovel!
STD screams into the ring, shovel in hand, and takes a big swing at Kryenik who is just barely able to dive out of the way. Martyr and Damned immediately take him down and start laying in punches, forearms, and kicks. Kryenik gets in a few shots before Jake Phoeinix storms in from out of nowhere! Phoenix clotheslines Damned to the mat! Martyr eats a clothesline too and rolls out under the bottom rope. Deathrow follows him out and blasts him over the head with a steel chair. Kryenik and Phoenix start to duke it out, but the Career Killer gets the upper hand and goozles him -
BILL HEWSON: OH MY GOD!
CROWD: HOLY SHIT!
JAKE PHOENIX JUST CHOKESLAMMED SBK OVER THE ROPES!
AND THROUGH A TABLE!
JACK JONES: Damn these Superstar rules! It's not fair!
BILL HEWSON: The Damned brought the table out, they have themselves to blame! Look out!
Deathrow sends Martyr back inside as Phoenix Powerslams Al B. Damned with authority. STD follows in quickly and hits a rising Martyr with a stiff Falcon Arrow that plants him hard. The Tag Team Champs scoop him up for a double team, but B. Damned shoves him out of the way to take the brunt for his leader. Big mistake - double short-range clothesline from the champs wipes him out. Deathrow picks up his chair as Phoenix picks him up and drills him with it. Before he can fall, Phoenix grabs him and delivers a double chokelsam along with Deathrow onto the steel chair. Martyr is back up and manages to bring Deathrow down with a bulldog from behind. He gets up and trades a few shots with Jake Phoenix before raking his eyes and hitting a jawjacker - Phoenix pops up and Martyr tries to quickly follow up with Dark Daze! Phoenix pushes him off before it connects! Martyr is back to his feet in a hurry but Deathrow's already to his feet. He and Phoenix start to pinball punch Martyr, nailing him with so many right hands he's pratically begging for lefts. Phoenix starts raining some particuarly devastating forearms and pounds him all the way into the corner. Deathrow follows in behind them and splashes him! Now it's Phoenix's turn - he walks all the way to the other side and lets Deathrow whip him into Martyr - BAM! Martyr folds up like a tent in the wind! Damned, perhaps in delerium, gets back up to his feet.
BILL HEWSON: It might be in Al's best interests to just stay down...
Too late! Running big boot by Phoenix! Deathrow picks him up and delivers a Brainbuster Suplex that scrambles his brain. This has devolved from a wresting into an outright butchering. Martyr somehow gets back up only for Deathrow to absolutely crush him with the chair. Phoenix picks Damned up while Tommy turns around and sets the chair up opened as if to sit on it. Gorilla Press Slam taken by the TEETH of Al B. Damned. He's bleeding pretty heavily from a cut on the lip - is someone gonna stop this? The crowd sure hopes not. They're loving the Damned finally getting what they deserve! Deathrow is calling for them to finish it off! He sets a brand new chair up in the middle of the ring. He's got Martyr up and DEATHROW DRIVER ON THE CHAIR! Martyr goes limp, and Phoenix grabs Damned by the hair. He has a look of terror on his face, but The Career Killer could care less. He tosses him to his tag partner - DEATHROW DRIVER! Again onto the steel chair! Deathrow goes to cover, but Phoenix stops him, pointing to the corner. Deathrow understands without his partner even needing to speak. They drag the near lifeless Al B. Damned over to the corner, and Deathrow gets on the bottom rope as Phoenix hoists Damned into position...
BILL HEWSON: I can't watch.
JACK JONES: Hey, maybe he'll kick out!
SPIKE TOMBSTONE.
Nothing more need be said.
Tommy pins TNT Style, humping Damned's face as Kryenik looks on. Phoenix dares Billy to make a save. The three count is academic.
FRANK WARBURTON: HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS, AND STILL THE NAPW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS - JAKE PHOENIX AND TOMMY DEATHROW!
BILL HEWSON: That may have been the worst beating I've ever seen in this sport. The champions retain again - can anyone stop this Tag Team train? Hell, after next week Phoenix might bring MORE gold to this team!
JACK JONES: That was the most one-sided affair since the Yankees bought Babe Ruth. Is either member of the Damned still alive?
Possibly not, but Billy Kryenik is. He's finally back on his feet after being chokeslammed halfway to China through a table. He's holding his neck, but still jawing at Tommy Deathrow. "Heh. See you next week, Tommy."
BILL HEWSON: Truly, this man is insane.
Deathrow beckons for Kryenik to come back in and get himself some, but the former DOOMrider just backs down the ramp, mouthing off to Tommy Deathrow all the way. The crowd cheers the champions on as they strap their belts back on and exit through the sea of humanity. A sea of humanity that parts quickly before Jake Phoenix's surly glare.
PATH.
And you better believe the crowd explodes.
The black-haired, pale-faced man steps out of the curtain with intensity oozing from every pore of his being. The crowd goes ballistic, chanting "Last Resort! Last Resort!" Ravager walks to the ring methodically, not rushing, not lollygagging. After all. Business is business.
FRANK WARBURTON: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first from Brooklyn New York, he is the former NAPW World Champion... ladies and gentlemen, The Last Resort... RAAAAVAGERRRR!
BILL HEWSON: A strange sight indeed to see Ravager coming down to the ring without the NAPW World Title belt, but tonight is not about titles. The issue between Ravager and Rex Caliber is so personal... this match is over one year in the making!
JACK JONES: And this time Ravager's not going to have a riot to help him win!
BILL HEWSON: How things have changed since last summer. This crowd is amped!
Ravager hits the corner, then steps down. His music stops. CUE IT UP. "THE CHAMP IS HERE! THE CHAMP IS HERE!"
BILL HEWSON: Caliber might think about changing his music.
JACK JONES: What are you talking about? Rex Cailber is still the rightful REBEL Champion, and he is the CHAMPION inside all of our hearts!
BILL HEWSON: Indeed. And where is he, exactly?
Good question. The music continues to play, but Rex Caliber is seemingly nowhere to be found...
"CUT MY MUSIC!"
The voice of Rex Caliber rings out through the arena. Where is he? Everybody is looking around but where is he? Ravager turns around, slowly, trying to keep his back from any one side for more than a few seconds. He's expecting the attack. Where is it coming from?
REX CALIBER: Ravager vs Rex Caliber. Rex vs Ravager...II. The match what, a year in the fuckin' making? Yeah. A big deal. Look at all the damn people here, tickets sold right out. Thing is the fans here... I don't give a shit about these fans.
Boooo. Where the hell is Caliber?
REX CALIBER: So Rex vs Ravager II, it ain't gonna be happening. Instead what we're gonna see here is a match that I've wanted to damn well see for a long time. That match is Ravager vs the ass-kicking of all ass-kickings...
The crowd buzzes. Out of the curtain comes "LDK" Lloyd Rees. From the crowd, it's The Foundation. From the other side of the crowd, Static is making his way through twirling his bokken. Ravager sees them all coming, getting right dead-center of the ring...
REX CALIBER: Oh wait, here's the part where the cavalry comes in, right? Hell, that's what always happens. Well, maybe not Jeff James. Stupid son of a bitch got taken to the hospital just about twenty minutes ago thanks to my boy Static.
Static mock bows, closing in on the guardrail.
REX CALIBER: But I mean, then there's The Beast... and that Stone Zellor punk-ass bitch who fluked out and beat me couple weeks ago in REBEL. I'm sure they'll be coming out here. Or you know, they would be if they were conscious. I'm sure if you head backstage right here, you'll find both of them passed out. Looks like somebody slipped something into their post-match beverages right? A little MD 20/20, a little light ale, a little something extra... shit.
The Foundation hop the guardrail. Prince Darko holds a canvas sack... Ravager is eyeing them warily. He's not going to be taken by surprise by any means, but things aren't looking good.
REX CALIBER: Chris Casino! Come on down! Make the damn save, take out the Crimes, eliminate even the toughest stains --- oh, wait. You know, I think there's a little problem, see. Seems that Casino got his wrists stuck in some handcuffs attached to a frigging steel post. Damn, that's gotta suck.
Rees comes closer, right to the ring apron... he's grinning.
REX CALIBER: Which all means basically one damn thing... there ain't going to be nobody coming to save you, Ravager. And this is called Operation KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH DEAD!
Here we go. Static on the ring apron, Ravager knocks him off. Darko, knocked off, it's Young who first gets in, but Ravager ducks and wraps behind --- LAST RESORT! Holy shit! LDK in, Ravager firing on him with stiff shots. Headbutt! Headbutt to Darko! Headbutt to Static! Ravager is CLEANING HOUSE ---
But only so long. Darko brings both hands up into Ravager's babymaker. He gringes, and next thing you know The Crimes are all over him, kicking and stomping. Ravager tries to cover up but there are so many boots coming at him brutally hard.
And here comes Rex Caliber now, coming from the crowd himself in a hoodie. He jumps the guardrail and gets into the ring, screaming for The Foundation to pick Ravager up. Static takes the first whack at the man, bashing him over the head with his bokken. Ravager sags, but then fires away! He's trying to fight back WHAM. Thomas Young boots Ravager right in the face.
And now it's Rex's turn. He blasts Ravager in the face with a right hand, shaking it off. What a shot. Rex then directs The Crimes to put Ravager in the corner. Young and Darko each grab chairs and toss them into the middle of the ring. Rex has Ravager... MUSCLE BUSTER
TOTAL ANNIHILATION on the chairs.
Ravager quivers, the crowd is shitting all over The Crimes. A full coke cup bounces off of Caliber's head, and he just loses it on the fans, swearing and screaming at them and their mothers. Static pulls out Screwy and stabs Ravager in the forehead with him as The Foundation hold up the canvas sack. Darko grabs it as Young tosses the chairs to the side. LDK pulls Ravager up and Rex looks on. Darko undoes the bag...
And out pour hundreds of thumb tacks. Glittering, deadly, thumbtacks.
Ravager is pulled up, bloody, out on his feet. Caliber lifts the man up... Static screams. "DO IT! DO IT! POWERBOMB THIS MOTHERFUCKER!"
And he does.
Gleefully, cruelly.
Into the puddle of tacks.
Ravager roars in pain, tacks sticking out of his bare back, his elbows, his ass, his thighs. A stomp to the head, and then Rex picks the man up and quickly sets him up for the Planetary Collision. And that's that. Ravager twitches on the canvas, covered in a mottled blueprint of shiny metal.
The Crimes hit the corner, Caliber in the center standing over Ravager.
Next week inside CAGE OF DEATH, is it going to be the same story?