Dark Match
-In a preview to the upcoming, Sean O'Connor pinned Krusty Kid Paul after delivering the Bushmills Drill! However, it was KKP who was left standing after he delivered a vicious & sudden K-Cutter to the O'Connor Boy after the bell.Backstage...
Backstage, these days, does not look an awful lot like a professional wrestling locker room. The lights are colorful and strange. The odd and bizarre is common in the land of New Alberta Pro Wrestling. The bearded lady. The twin strongmen. Midgets galore. A surreal party constantly ongoing.
In the middle of it all is the new power in NAPW: the enigmatic, mysterious ZOUAVE. The sad clown in fresh greasepaint and tattered pants. Near him as he has been for months now is the one & only JOEY MALONE, expressionless and clad in a suit of stark black & white. Zouave closes his eyes and inhales deeply of his menagerie.
The flow is disrupted by the entrance of a young man positively shadowed by a black cloud of angst and anger. Perpetual snarl on his lips, JACOB VENAR pushes his way through the throng towards Zouave. The harlequin of power takes no notice of Venar until the Falcon is directly in front of him.
ZOUAVE: Why MISter Ven-R. Do you have anAPPOINTment?
JACOB VENAR: (BLEEP) your appointment, I'm here to call you out on your bullshit.
ZOUAVE: NowNOW such laaaaaanguage my friend. Tell ZOUAVE what... *inhales deeply* ... troubles you?
Jacob is not unaware of being flanked. He doesn't let it intimidate him...
JACOB VENAR: Look at your goddamn show. That little bitch Justin Case gets ANOTHER Heritage Title shot and I'm not even on the card. Jay O'Brien gets to take on Roddy Mac and I'm not even on the card. Next week... I'm NOT EVEN ON THE CARD. I've beaten Jake Phoenix! I've won matches! Your BOY Liam Shepherd is the only guy in this company who's ever even given me (BLEEP) props but I'm being treated the same as I was under Brandon or any other guy who's run this fed.
Venar steps forward and jabs his finger right in Zouave's chest; the clown's eyes flash.
JACOB VENAR: I'm through sitting back and (BLEEP) waiting for something to happen TO me. I --- WANT --- MY SHOTS. Nobody in NAPW has ever paid their (BLEEP) dues like I have. *I* deserve a Heritage Title shot. *I* deserve a match against a name like RODDY MAC. *I* ---
The two strongmen are suddenly right on Venar. Jacob looks around. If he's going down, he'll go down swinging.
Zouave laughs.
ZOUAVE: Jaaaaaykub. This is the GREATESTshow onEARTH. I like U. I dO. And I am soSOso happy you have come to mE at LAst. I will tell you a SECRET. You can have the opportunities you doDESERVE... but you have to dosomethingfor me. Something...TONIGHT.
Zouave leans in close to Venar's face, nose's almost touching. Stage whisper.
ZOUAVE: TonightAll you have to do... *inhales through teeth*... is make an IMPACT.
The tableau breaks with cutting suddenness. Zouave smiles, revealing blackened teeth.
ZOUAVE: Now if you willexCUSE me, I a SHOW have to prepareFOR! LIGHTS!
Zouave sweeps away, Malone in his wake, the Thrall exhorting with cheers. Venar stands his ground, not willing to follow. He turns his back and shoves his way out of the circus. His thoughts, from his expression, are not pleasant.
Ringside! NAPW has returned to the Ogden Legion Hall and the fans are in the house, anticipating a night of fantastic wrestling action. The crowd isn't as thick with bodies as it has been in the past but it the crowd is undeniably rowdy.
Strangely, however, and distracting many is a roped-off section of the front row. Velvet rope cordons off a red carpeted section that takes the space of four front-row seats. On the carpet is a plush, antique looking chair. A small end table is beside it, along with a polished silver wine chiller with a bottle of D'om Perignon sitting in ice. At least a few fans are upset at being unable to sit front row because of the strange set-up, but Thrall Security is ensuring nobody steps over the rope.
Perhaps more strange, is that nobody is sitting in the makeshift 'luxury box.'
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hell yes, it's NAPW on TFN! You better f'n not leave the TV because this is going to be a SICK f'n show!
JACK JONES: I thought it was supposed to be a GREAT show, not sick.
LIAM SHEPHERD: This out-of-touch ass is Jack Jones, but I'm your host LIAM SHEPHERD --- time to ROCK & F'N ROLL!
JACK JONES: It's Jack ATTACK Jones! There is RHYMING!
LIAM SHEPHERD: And we're all %$@! proud of ya. Now let's watch RODDY MAC kill a bitch!
We now come to a shot of the over sized sweat hog, in Trenton Oswald. He stands in the ring as spit flys through the air while he introduces the two competitors.
TRENTON OSWALD: AND NOW!!! THIS MATCHA IS FOR ONNNNE FAALLLLL!!
"Faint" by Linkin Park hits the crowd as Roddy Mac makes his way to the ring to an ovation of boos.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Roddy looks poised and ready for battle. He looks focused. Bringin' the f'n DESTROYER.
JACK JONES: Speaking of destroyer, your mom says hi.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Shove it, you old f---
TRENTON OSWALD: And makingah his wayah to the ringah, standing 6 foot 6 inches and weights in at 259 POUNNNDS. From Detroit, Michigan. RODDY MAC!!!
Roddy Mac steps up on the apron and makes his way through the ropes, then posing for the booing fans
Suddenly " Come Clarity " by In Flames hits the speakers and out walks Jay O'Brien as the crowd pops!
TRENTON OSWALD: And making his way to the ringah, FROM BRADFORD, ENGLANDAH....standing 5 foot 10 inches, 225 POUNNNDS!! JAY O'Brien!!
Out struts JOB to a pop throughout the crowd.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Will Jay O'brien get the "Last Word" in this match? Only time will tell.
JACK JONES: Knowing Roddy Mac, he'll whipe the floor with this "Jobber." Seriously, who picks a ring name with the initials "J O B?"
LIAM SHEPHERD: Kids, that spells JOB. Something BILL HEWSON no longer has and this f'n jerkoff might be out of soon enough...
Jay steps through the ropes and poses for the willing fans. Before the bell rings Roddy Mac attacks Jay from behind.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Let that be a lesson, you should never leave your back towards one Roddy Mac.
DING DING
Roddy gets O'Brien in the corner with a few swift blows to the face as the ref intervenes before too much damage is done. The two hook up into a grapple as Mac proceeds with an Irish Whip but Jay comes back with a flying dropkick and then another as a final standing dropkick pushes Roddy out of the ring and onto the floor.
Roddy, angry on the outside, as he pounds the ring apron while taking some time as the ref counts. Breaking the count and then stepping back outside just to keep things interesting, Mac rethinks his gameplan on the outside.
Mac climbing the stairs to the apron breaking the ref's count, trying to enter the ring as Jay comes at him, with the ref distracted, Roddy yanks Jay's throat over the top rope landing back down on the floor as O'Brien holds his throat gasping for air.
LIAM SHEPHERD: I bet Roddy Mac thinks he is a big man, now. Having thrown Jay's throat over the top rope.
JACK JONES: There is nothing shameful about it, Liam. I don't like everything about Roddy Mac but he'll do anything for a win, and I gotta say, I get off on that.
Mac enters the ring with all the control, as Jay comes back trying to go for a suplex. Roddy blocks it and proceeds to hit a HUGE array of moves. A body clutch backbreaker followed by a legdrop as then Mac gets O'brien in a Death Spike! JOB is now in big trouble! Roddy goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
kickout!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Jay O'brien is in fact in Big Trouble in little china!
JACK JONES: I loved that movie!!
Roddy goes for his Hog Wild but Jay reverses with a reverse DDT!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Both men down!!
The ref starts the ten count as both competitors lay in the ring
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
Nobody is moving...
SEVEN...
Finally O'brien begins to move as he gets to his feet
Roddy Mac gets to his feet as well. Mac comes in with an Ax handle to the middle of JOB's back, right between the shoulder blades! Suddenly Jay comes back with a few chops to Roddy's chest as with each chop the echoed hit is heard throughout the Hall. O'Brien fired up now!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Its looks like J.O.B is in complete control at the moment and loving it!
AW! right then an eye poke to the eye of Jay O'brien. Roddy Mac begins to smile.
JACK JONES: You spoke too soon there, buddy.
Roddy with the Irish Whip as coming back Jay ducks the clotheline and on the second end he reverses it with a clotheline to Roddy Mac! He picks up Mac and proceeds with a short arm clotheline! Jay doesnt let go as he gives another short arm clothesline to Mac, and then one more for good measure! Right when O'Brien thinks he has his man, Roddy comes back and gets JOB into his Hog Wild...REVERSED! O'Brien hits his Brainbuster and goes for a cover but not picking up the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: That was a close call
JACK JONES: But it wasnt the last word, ha ha.
Just then Jay O'Brien calls for the Last Word! But in the center of the ring Roddy Mac gets his elbow in between the move and breaks it up. Then with a big move Roddy Mac pulls off a Ramrod!! Sending Jay HARD into the turnbuckles!! Roddy then crouches down for a DESTROYER...SPEAR!!-- Jay sidesteps the move sending Mac right into the metal post hitting his head with a gash to the hairline, stumbling out from the corner into the center of the ring! Mac is disoriented as he walks right into THE LAST WORD!! JOB with the cover, picking up the leg, as if it mattered....
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!
TRENTON OSWALD: AND YOUR WINNNNER IS........JAAAY OHHH BRRRIENNNNN!!!!!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: That was a great f'n match but the wrong ending!
JACK JONES: Bad luck for Roddy Mac --- if The DESTROYER hits it's all over, but uh, when it misses it's almost as bad for Mac!
LIAM SHEPHERD: If Jay O'Brien just thought about wrestling and not preaching his lies about the great ZOUAVE I could get behind the kid!
JACK JONES: Yeah, I'm sure.
O'Brien has his hand raised to cheers, but quickly gets out of the ring before Roddy gets his bearings. He's seen what happens to the 'winners' against Roddy as of late...
Commercial Break
LIAM SHEPHERD: And that's when the rats came and ate it all up.JACK JONES: I...I think I'm going to be sick.
LIAM SHEPHERD: What's the matter, old man? You can dish it out but you can't take it?
JACK JONES: I never thought I would be identifying with Hewson. Or missing him. *choke* Damn you, Hewson!
"AS LOW AS YOU GO!"
The sweet power chords of The Foo Fighters thunder through the room, and the crowd becomes electric as The New & Improved D-X make their way down to the ring. Neither man is looking particularly cheerful; Bruce Richards has a very sour look on his face, and Kyle Roberts is not exactly his cheerful and and exuberant self, but he's still high-fiving a few NAPW fans.
LIAM SHEPHERD: What are these two jag-offs doing here? They lost last week, they should crawl back to whatever crap-stained rock they live under.
JACK JONES: The New & Improved D-X might not have won the ladder match last week, but they have just as much a right to be here as you. Some people might argue they have more of a right. Some people might be me.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Eff you, Jones; you can suck my yam sack.
JACK JONES: Cram it with walnuts, Shepherd.
Kyle Roberts hops up on the ring apron and holds the ropes open for his partner to crawl through. The crowd starts clapping in unison, cheering for the tag team legends, and the two men stand in the middle soaking it in. Eventually, though, Kyle holds his hands up and calls for a microphone. When the crowd quiets down, he speaks.
KYLE ROBERTS: Well, sports fans, last week we took part in one of the craziest NAPW matches you've ever seen. It was wild! Three capable teams... and Damage Inc... in the first ever four-way Tables Ladders and Chairs match. People went flying, stunts were attempted, and sometimes even managed to hurt someone other than themselves. I got to kick two teams out with Thunder and Lighting here (Kyle holds up his fists), and they weren't even in the damn match!
The crowd cheers.
KYLE ROBERTS: However, the New and Improved D-X did not grab victory, my friends. Tommy Deathrow and Krusty Kid Paul, two degenerates who happened to be in their element kept the NAPW tag titles.
Some of the fans boo, but there's a sizeable SAD following here to cheer.
KYLE ROBERTS: Good for them. They defended those tag titles as only those two crazy bastards can. But this isn't over, S.A.D. We'll come for those titles again. Just you and us, in a wrestling ring. You can't say Bruce "The Beast" Richards and Stylin' Kyle Roberts just quit. We took a step back last week. And we'll just take two steps forward, getting that much closer to what we've been striving for ever since we reformed. A sixth tag title reign. A mother lovin' dynasty.
The crowd cheers again. And Bruce clasps Kyle on the shoulder.
KYLE ROBERTS: Looks like my partner has something he wants to say. Here you go, Bruce.
Kyle hands Bruce the microphone.
BRUCE RICHARDS: A six-time tag title reign. It's what we've been striving for. It's a way to show these fans that we haven't just come back for one or two weeks. It's to prove we weren't hotcakes five years ago and we haven't lost a step.
Kyle mouths "Hotcakes?" to the camera, smirking.
BRUCE RICHARDS: But I've got to tell you, partner... I'm already a six-time tag champion.
Kyle's a bit confused. Bruce's mic picks up a bit of "Not with me you haven't."
BRUCE RICHARDS: You see, Kyle, we've been building up steam. You and I, we got back together and we plowed through anyone who we came across. Mystic Exposition. The O'Connor Brothers. Chris Casino and Evan Cartwright. Those would be some impressive wins. If they meant a damn.
Kyle inches closer to the mic.
KYLE ROBERTS: Wait, what?
BRUCE RICHARDS: Mystic Exposition. Two crazies who managed to ride a nostalgia wave back to NAPW. The O'Connors, the best twin brother tag team who were ever managed by a robot for a brief period of time. If only that meant something. Casino and Cartwright? They were the goods, five years back. Truth is, this ladder match would have been the only match worth counting, if we had won it. But no, you go around picking fights with teams that don't matter, like Grade A Alberta Attitude, and the Saviors of Professional Wrestling.
KYLE ROBERTS: They were interfering! If I hadn't taken care of them, they would have ruined our shot.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Teams that don't matter, while I was fighting tooth and nail with two of the dirtiest players in the game in Deathrow and Paul. Where were we when they raised those belts over their heads fifteen feet up? We were at the bottom looking up. And that's not something I cotton to.
KYLE ROBERTS: It was a setback. So we lost one match. We dust ourselves off, stand on our own feet, and walk to the finish line. Look, Bruce, if it looked like I was distracted in that match because of shenanigans, I'm sorry. I was doing my best, and it just wasn't enough. But there were eight men in that ring! If it wasn't us, it was going to be someone else, probably behind our backs.
Bruce turns around, looking down at the mat.
KYLE ROBERTS: I apologize, Bruce. And I'd like to make it up to you.
Kyle extends his hand. Bruce turns his head to look at it. The crowd cheers.
KYLE ROBERTS: Stylin' Kyle Roberts. Bruce "The Beast" Richards. I came back for you. And you were losing a lot more than once. All I'm asking is you come back for me if I need it.
Bruce strokes his well-groomed beard. Looks down at Kyle's hand, thinking. The crowd is chanting "Come on Beast! Come on Beast!"
KYLE ROBERTS: I brought back the Beast. Can you help bring back the Style?
He says with, with a grin, knowing how cheezy it sounds. And the crowd goes with it. "Bring the Style! Bring the Style!"
KYLE ROBERTS: I won't let you down, Bruce. Onward and upward.
Kyle extends his hand to Bruce, who looks at it, detached. Then, he takes it. And the crowd explodes!
BECAUSE HE TAKES KYLE DOWN WITH A SHORT-ARM CLOTHESLINE!
LIAM SHEPHERD: What the EFF?
The crowd takes a collective gasp as Bruce lays Kyle out on the canvas. Normally, this isn't the kind of thing that would put The Stylin' One down, but the unexpected nature of the attack makes him falter for one second.
And a second is all that Bruce needs. He pummels Kyle all about the head, as the hush that went through the crowd is slowly rising as a few murmurs start rising above the sound of Bruce's fists on Kyle's flesh. Kyle tries to scramble away, making it to the turnbuckle and starts pulling himself up, and Bruce kicks him in the back of the head. Kyle's face smacks against the metal pole, and he slumps to the canvas, barely holding himself up with one hand. Bruce turns to walk away, and the look on his face is unmistakable.
It is hate. And now a few boos start coming from the crowd. But Bruce Richards doesn't hear them.
JACK JONES: A shocking display of violence from Bruce Richards here, and I don't think--
LIAM SHEPHERD: OH MY GOD!
Bruce has turned back on Kyle! He grabs him by the scruff of the neck and RAMS his face into the metal post again; a trickle of blood starts rolling down Kyle's face. He smashes it again for good measure, then Irish Whips Kyle into the opposite turnbuckle, then follows it up with a FULL BODY PRESS! Kyle stumbles away from the post, and Bruce lifts him over his shoulders! The Chart Attack is coming!
No. The torture rack.
Bruce WRENCHES on Kyle's neck, and for the first time since this horror started, Kyle cries out. Not in pain. Not to stop. But to ask a question.
"WHY?!?"
Bruce doesn't answer. Maybe he doesn't hear. But he doesn't stop either. And now the boos start coming louder and faster from the crowd, and maybe Bruce doesn't hear them either. His eyes are ablaze. His teeth are gritted. His face is red.
And then he lifts Kyle over his head and breaks him over his knee.
Kyle rolls away into the center of the ring, and Bruce spits on his writhing body. Then, he steps through the ropes and out of the ring.
JACK JONES: Well, this is certainly--
LIAM SHEPHERD: HE'S GETTING A CHAIR!
Oh yes. He is. The crowd is now booing loudly, throwing garbage at Bruce as he shoves the timekeeper and grabs his folding chair, making his way back to the ring. The crowd gets louder and louder, but Kyle doesn't notice. He's just crawling as quickly as he can to the ropes, trying to lift himself up. Bruce stands behind him, shaking his head. There's a look on his face. Maybe it's pity. Maybe not. Kyle's hand reaches out for the ropes.
CRACK!
Bruce nails Kyle in the back with the chair. Kyle grits his teeth and tries to keep moving forward.
CRACK!
Again with the chair to the back. And now Kyle's arching his back in pain, still trying to get to the ropes.
CRACK!
Chair to the back of the head, and now Kyle stops for a moment. Then, Bruce hauls him back to the center of the ring, rolling him on top of the chair. Then, Bruce heads to the turnbuckle. He makes it to the top. And then lets fly with the moonsault. Kyle starts twitching in the middle of the ring, but Bruce grabs him. Holds him still on top of the chair. And then...
THE CLAW.
Kyle starts struggling, buffeting Bruce's head with a couple of solid shots, but he's too badly injured to put up much of a fight, and eventually he lies still, his head lolling around on the mat, eyes rolled up in the back of his head.
JACK JONES: My god, where are the security guards?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Eff them, man, if I was in their shoes I wouldn't go NEAR that son of a bitch.
Finally satisfied, Bruce stands up, and then picks up the chair one more time. But this time, he opens it up, puts the crossbar over Kyle's throat, and then goes for a microphone. He sits down, his legs on either side of the back of the chair, and then starts addressing his partner.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Don't look so shocked. You should have known this was going to happen. You were the one who put this all in motion, after all. Bruce kept telling anyone who would listen that he was better. But you had to go and put your nose into it. You had to be the big hero. What was it you said, Kyle? You brought back The Beast? Is THAT what you said? Well, you're right. But you brought back the WRONG BEAST! Are you telling me you couldn't tell the two apart? You couldn't tell the difference between your old friend Bruce and something a whole lot more dangerous?
He chuckles, but the look on his face never once turns into a smile. Then, he starts shouting.
BRUCE RICHARDS: WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING SINCE DAY ONE? THE FIRST TIME WE SET FOOT IN THIS COMPANY? "NEVER TRUST THE BEAST!" YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THAT, KYLE!
Then, suddenly, the fury is gone. And there's that cold dead look on his face again.
BRUCE RICHARDS: You should have kept your eye on him, Kyle. You should have been keeping him three steps in front of you so you could tell when he would strike. But, no, you kept on walking alongside of him, whistling a silly little tune. You got sloppy, Kyle. And The Black Beast doesn't need a sloppy partner.
And with that, he drops the microphone on the canvas by Kyle's head, stands up from the chair, and turns his back to walk away. He walks up the aisle to a shower of boos, garbage, and questions. But he ignores it all.
Because Bruce Richards might have cared about those things a little while ago. But the Black Beast doesn't.
Commercial Break
Backstage... in the 'normal' part of backstage.Hey kids, look! It's ESTEBAN! GARY! BIG MITCH! And CHRIS KAMIKAZE! That's right, it's the WORKER'S GUILD OF ALBERTA! You remember them!
GARY: Why do we keep coming to these shows, guys?
ESTEBAN: Yeah, we get booked as much as somebody actually SUCKS MY BALLS. Which is NOWHERE NEAR ENOUGH esse.
CHRIS KAMIKAZE: Look guys, I know things have been... kinda crappy since Joey went off with that clown, and Zouave doesn't even seem to we're alive, but we have to keep showing up. We're under NAPW contract, and you never know when they might need us.
BIG MITCH: But the catering isn't even as good! Look at me! I'm wasting away!
ESTEBAN: Homes it'll be YEARS before you waste away. You're like 68% Twinkie!
BIG MITCH: Stop making fun of me! I haven't made an ESTEBAN CAKE... YET.
CHRIS KAMIKAZE: NO CAKES OF ALLIES! Seriously Esteban, knock it off! We need solidarity!
ESTEBAN: Oh yeah, solidarity like when Joey went off and made with the loco! You know what, he can SUCK MY ---
BIG MITCH: JOEY SUCKS NO BALLS!
CHRIS KAMIKAZE: Oh crap.
HOT TEMPERED SHOVING! Kamikaze caught in the middle between a posturing Esteban and a fat furious Big Mitch!
GARY: Guys. Guys. Guys!
Gary bangs a convenient GONG, stunning all three of his allies into silence.
GARY: GUYS.
CHRIS KAMIKAZE: ...where did that gong come from?
GARY: Guys, you know, maybe we should stop just sitting here hoping Joey remembers us and says hi.
ESTEBAN: Suck my ---
GARY: Seriously, Esteban, NO. Maybe we need to take action. Maybe we need to remember what the WGA stands for! What is formed for! Without Joey Malone taking us under his wing, all four of us would be losers and jokes! Mitch, Esteban, Kami, remember what Joey did for you!
BIG MITCH: Without Joey Malone, I wouldn't be able to bake DELICIOUS wrestler cakes!
ESTEBAN: Without Joey Malone I'd still be in Steelside Pro Wrestling, esse, and that is the suck of the balls. You know how you got a spot on the show, man? Knife fights!
CHRIS KAMIKAZE: Without Joey, I'd... never have been one-half of the NAPW tag team champions with a ketchup-addicted computer zombie man.
GARY: And I wouldn't have my own name, I would still just be known as "Mr. Slick's Double." Guys, Joey Malone never gave up on us... and we can't give up on him.
BIG MITCH: But what do we do? We can't even get near Joey, and he doesn't even seem to recognize us when we do!
GARY: Mitch, I've got a plan. First, we ---
BIG MITCH: BAKE A DELICIOUS CAKE?
GARY: ...no. Now listen guys...
Ut oh, it's the whispering huddle! Dissolve back to the Ogden Legion interior as the WGA plots SOMETHING OR OTHER.
TRENTON OSWALD: LADIES and GENTLEMEN! It is TIME to for our NEW Heritage Champion's FIRST. EVER. DEFENSE! And it will be a GRUDGE MATCH!
JACK JONES: Oh boy! You know what that means, Liam!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Time to crown a new Heritage Champion?
JACK JONES: Time for Danny Chaos and Justin Case to settle their differences in the ring, ONE ON ONE! This could get crazy!
LIAM SHEPHERD: It's already crazy --- Danny Chaos should NOT be the Heritage Champion!
JACK JONES: How do you figure, Shepherd?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Come on --- Danny Chaos or Donovan Astros, who's the better wrestler?
JACK JONES: Well, last week the better wrestler was Danny Chaos whether you like it or not!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Pah...
The crowd pops, knowing that all hell is going to break lose here any moment, as an unfamiliar figure makes his way to the ring --- a new referee!
TRENTON OSWALD: But FIRST! Please, RISE, for a STANDING. OVATION. Your NEW En-Ay-Pee-Dubble-You OFF-ISH-AL. The man with the TWENTY. TWENTY. Vision. SELWYN. SCIPIO!
JACK JONES: The twenty-twenty vision? Take a look at the jam jar's this guy's looking through!
Sure enough, Selwyn Scipio has some pretty thick lenses in his spectacles, and that's met with some humour with this crowd!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hey --- you know why people wear glasses, Jones? It's so that if you DON'T have twenty-twenty vision, then you CAN have twenty-twenty vision! It's not rocket science, Jones, and I happen to know this is one of the hottest referees around!
JACK JONES: He looks like he's gonna pass out! God forbid anyone bumps this guy, he'll snap like a twig!
And with those observations of the stick-thin, pasty white Scipio, Oswald begins looking round for something, possibly a localised dehumidifier, as "VICTORY" by Puff Daddy & Company hits up. The crowd is momentarily confused...
TRENTON OSWALD: INTRODUCING... The CHALLENGER! He is from RIGHT HERE in Edmonton, Alberta... he WEIGHS two HUNDRED and sixty-five POUNDS! HE. IS! JUSTIN! CASE!
Justin Case comes out looking as cock-sure as ever and the crowd don't like it one bit.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Is it just me, or does that guy look like Championship material?
JACK JONES: Well, he sure thinks so!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hmmm...
As Case enters the ring, it's time for The Warriors and 'Set the Stage'. Trenton looks fit to pass out as he fans himself with his hat.
TRENTON OSWALD: ANNNNND HIS OPPONENT! He is the Canadian Heritage CHAAAAMPION! He HAILS from Glenn Falls, New York, and WEIGHS two HUNDRED POUNDS. HE IS DANNY! CHAAAOOOS!
Danny Chaos comes out all guns blazing, belt fixed round his waist, eyes fixed on his nemesis, Justin Case. A couple of paces in, and he's charging the ring, and Justin is right there to meet him!
JACK JONES: HERE WE GO! Danny Chaos! Justin Case! NAPW Heritage Championship is ON THE LINE!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Really? No one mentioned it.
Chaos and Case are flailing early, arms like windmills, and it's Chaos that's getting the better of it despite his huge size disadvantage! He is out here and he has brought ALL his intensity!
JACK JONES: Look at Chaos go! Look at those big rights and lefts, that is some hand speed!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Yeah, well, Justin Case has got inside Danny Chaos's head, he's got a small check to write... then it's gonna be over for the 'Champion' just like that!
JACK JONES: Well not if Danny Chaos has anything to say about it! He is PUMPED, Shepherd!
Chaos changes tactics, now opting to open up on Case with some NASTY knife-edge chops! The crowd are loving it, a "WOOOOOOOO!" with every blow!
JACK JONES: He is lighting up Justin Case's chest like a Halloween pumpkin!
Case is clearly feeling it, and it's about all he can do to pie-face Chaos, roll outside and get some separation.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Smart move! A Championship move from Justin Case!
JACK JONES: What, run away when someone kicks your ass?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hey --- by ANY means necessary, I say!
Justin Case doesn't look calm and composed, though, he looks positively pissed off! Case even takes time to jaw with the fans, until Chaos comes flying over and wipes him out with a slingshot plancha!
JACK JONES: Amazing move by Chaos! Justin Case has nowhere to hide! It's payback time for months and months of animosity, sneak attacks, brawls, costing each other falls... boy, oh, boy, this is a GRUDGE match all right!
LIAM SHEPHERD: It's a grudge match, but that's no excuse for lowering your defences! Danny Chaos has chosen the WRONG tactics, I guarantee you, you don't come out here and manhandle Justin Case like this! BIG MISTAKE!
JACK JONES: Well it seems to be working so far, Shepherd!
LIAM SHEPHERD: That's Mr. Shepherd to you, Jones.
Danny Chaos pops up and pops the crowd! They're loving this kind of start! Chaos is quick to refocus his attention on Justin Case, however, picking him up and RAMMING his head into the guard rails!
LIAM SHEPHERD: That is NOT a legal move, Jones! Disqualify him, referee!
JACK JONES: Well, Scipio must be under instruction to let this one go!
Case staggers back, and Chaos drops him to a knee with a basement dropkick. Chaos up, and SMASHING Case with some real, REAL stiff kicks to the chest! Case is in trouble early!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Come on! Stop this! Where's the ten count?!
JACK JONES: Scipio IS counting, and he's up to six!
Noting the count, Chaos lifts Case up and with a handful of tights, rolls the big man back into the ring. Chaos rolls in after him, but he's quickly met by stomps as Case somehow gets back to his feet. Case now putting the boots to Chaos REALLY heavily, and LOVING IT... then he lifts him up... overhead belly to belly suplex!
LIAM SHEPHERD: GREAT move! Great, great, wonderful move by Justin Case! Did you see the elevation he got on that release? BEAUTIFUL!
JACK JONES: That was impressive, picture perfect suplex by Case!
Justin Case takes a second to readjust his knee pads and he's still looking angry about getting rushed like that. He turns round, has Chaos up... Irish whip, Chaos off the ropes... LARIAT narrowly misses! Chaos off the other side... FLYING FOREARM! Both men back up as Chaos using the ropes for yet more momentum... SPINNING HEEL KICK! Case down and he's moving far slower now, but back to his feet... Chaos behind him... REVERSE DDT!
JACK JONES: Edge Break! Edge Break, that could be all!
Scipio slides into position
One...
Two...
Kickout by Justin Case!
LIAM SHEPHERD: No chance! Case has waited too damn long for this match, THIS shot at the title WITHOUT a dodgy referee!
JACK JONES: Well that's right, Danny Chaos went some way to costing Justin Case his shot at Donovan Astros last time around, but this time, it's one on one! Fair and square, may the best man win!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Oh, he will. Trust me.
Danny Chaos picks Case up, looking for the Irish whip himself, but no, reversal by Case, and ANOTHER by Case, and WHAM! Short-arm clothesline! He just swung Danny Chaos round like a pillow! What a shot!
JACK JONES: OH MY! Goodness... That was a HELL of a shot!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Call the WAAAMBULANCE, Jack Jones, Danny Chaos can't take no more!
That wouldn't appear to be the case, as amazingly Danny Chaos is getting back to his feet, but here come Case... BIG BOOT! Right on the jaw! Cover...
ONE...
TWO...
KICKOUT!
Justin Case glares at Scipio, who he thinks was a step slow there, before picking Chaos up. Hooks him up... FISHERMAN'S SUPLEX! Scipio is right there!
ONE...
TWO...
KICKOUT AGAIN!
JACK JONES: Two close near-falls here, Danny Scipio staying right on top of the action as Justin Case presses the advantage!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Justin Case is fixing to pick this guy apart! He can't hang with a guy as big, strong and athletic as the Champion... ELECT!
Justin Case looks around at the fans, getting a kick out of the concern etched on their faces, and signals for a match-ender...
LIAM SHEPHERD: Heeeere we go! Take it home, baby!
Case spins a groggy Danny Chaos round, and wraps his arms round his ribs, synching tight, constricting all that air out of his lungs... then lifts! No! No German suplex! He didn't get it, Chaos hooking his leg inside Case's! Case lifts again, but still no! Chaos with some back elbows, and they are tattooing Case right round the ear! He is rocking, his hold is loosening! Chaos breaks free, off the ropes, Case drops his head... BIG MISTAKE! SPINNING DDT BY DANNY CHAOS!
JACK JONES: Oh my! Danny Chaos just took Justin Case right the way around with that move, and PLANTED him head first into the mat! What a match this is!
LIAM SHEPHERD: It's not a match, Jack Jones, this is a FIGHT!
And that it is, as instead of covering Case, Chaos mounts him, grabs a handful of hair and begins to rain down with some brutal fast fists!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hey! HEY! Disqualify that man!
JACK JONES: Oh, you know the deal, Shepherd, these guys can't STAND each other! We all knew it was gonna be this way, even Scipio!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Well tell SHEEPIO, he doesn't need to just go along with this, he should strip Danny Chaos of the title right now! He ain't a real Champion!
JACK JONES: He ended the run of Donovan Astros! AFTER A SNEAK ATTACK! How is he NOT a real Champion!?
Chaos looks absolutely pumped, as he hoists a battered and bruised Justin Case up... Two CHOPS for good measure... Case is hurt... Chaos hooks him up in a Fisherman's suplex position...
JACK JONES: F.Y.I.E.!!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: The For Your Information, Everybody!
JACK JONES: That is NOT what that stands for... but HERE IT COMES!!
F.Y.I.E.! A Fisherman's suplex into a Michinoku Driver! That hit pretty good, but as Case flailed around in mid-lift, he...
LIAM SHEPHERD: HA HA HA HA!! He knocked Scipio's glasses clean off his face! That was awesome!
JACK JONES: And Scipio can't see a thing! Chaos covering! Oh for the love of God!!
Scipio is down on his hands and knees searching desperately for his glasses, but it's taking him a hell of a long time to find them! Chaos still covering, and he hasn't noticed until now, and he's SCREAMING at Scipio to count!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Well that's what you get when you knock his glasses off, doofus!
JACK JONES: That was an accident, Shepherd, and this is costing Chaos valuable time! Justin Case was fighting that move, and he caught Scipio in the face with a random boot! I don't believe it!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Poetic justice, Jones, JUSTICE for that fiasco Chaos got himself involved in last time Case had a title shot!
Scipio finds the glasses AT LAST, and he still seems to take an age to pick them up and put them on his beak, and at least six or seven seconds has passed, and here's the count!
ONE...
TWO...
LIAM SHEPHERD: Kick out, Case, PLEASE kick out!!
THRE--- NO! KICKOUT! JUSTIN CASE KICKED OUT!
JACK JONES: Justin Case got his shoulder up right at the last second, and... and you gotta think, this would've been over if Scipio had kept ahold of those spectacles of his!
And Danny Chaos seems to think so too, and he is FUMING with Scipio! Scipio backing off, he's lost for words, he's apologetic, but that doesn't change things, this match is STILL underway!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Ah, ha ha! These things happen, Johnson, they can't be avoided!
JACK JONES: You are loving this, huh, Shepherd?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Hell, the score just got levelled if you ask me!
JACK JONES: Give me a break...
Chaos turns back to Case, kicks him SQUARE in the face, and now with a handful of hair... Chaos, trying to look on the dragon sleeper, the Edge of Chaos!
JACK JONES: Here we go! How sweet would it feel for Chaos to make Justin Case TAP OUT!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Like Case would ever tap! What planet are you living on, Jones?
JACK JONES: He won't have a choice! Edge of Chaos coming up!
... But no! Case slinks down out of it, QUICKSCHOOLBOY!
ONE!!
But wait, Case rolls straight through, Selwyn Scipio looks confused, Case moves quickily... GAME! BREAKER!!! Middle of the ring!
LIAM SHEPHERD: YES! YES, YES, YES! It's over! Ring the bell! RING THE BELL, DAMN IT!!
JACK JONES: He ain't tapped! He ain't tapped! He's not giving it up! Chaos reaching for the ropes!
LIAM SHEPHERD: He's a mile away! He'll never get there!
JACK JONES: But he's trying! He is TRYING, so DESPERATELY!!
Chaos is crawling, CRAWLING, and it's like slow motion --- agonizing, muscle-ripping, ligament-tearing SLOW. MOTION! But he can't get there! It's too far! Chaos holds his hand out!
LIAM SHEPHERD: HE'S GONNA TAP! HE'S GONNA TAP!!
JACK JONES: Fight it, Chaos, fight it!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: GIVE IT UP, CHUMP! Give it up, give the belt to Justin Case, TAP, TAP, TAP!!!
And he is SOOO close to tapping! But then Chaos rolls through! Into a cover!
JACK JONES: Unbelievable! Gamebreaker is still on, but Case's shoulderse are DOWN!
ONE!!
TWO!!
NO!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: CASE ROLLS BACK! HE ROLLS BACK! BACK INTO THE GAMEBREAKER! IT IS OVER, FOLKS, RING THE BELL SCIPIO, RING THE DAMN BELL!
JACK JONES: Get to the ropes! Get to the ropes, Chaos, fight it! Don't give in!
"Please don't tap! Please don't tap! Please don't tap!"
Scipio right in Chaos's face! He's asking him the question! Chaos holds his hand up again, he can't fight it any longer...
CHAOS TAPS!!!
LIAM SHEPHERD: YES! Yes, yes, yes!! High-five, Jones, new Champion!
JACK JONES: Get outta here! What a crock of... well, god Lord, what kind an inauspicious debut for Zuoave's new rookie referee!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Inauspicious!?
JACK JONES: HE COST CHAOS THE DAMN MATCH!
LIAM SHEPHERD: How?! How, Chaos tapped!
JACK JONES: But the glasses! The glasses! Chaos had it!
LIAM SHEPHERD: WHAT?! I'll tell you what, it's YOU that needs glasses, not Scipio! Selwyn did his job, and he did a GOOD job!
TRENTON OSWALD: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! YOUR WINNER, and the NEW! NAPW CANADIAN HERITAGE CHAMPEEN! JUSTIN! CAAASE!!
And the fans, they don't like it one bit! "Bullsh*t! Bullsh*t!" Justin Case is handed the Canadian Heritage Title belt as the crowd boos the hell out of him. He doesn't care. "TMG" finally has a piece of NAPW gold.
Commercial Break
Backstage...The camera zooms in on SEAMUS O'CONNOR --- face down on a steel chair, unconscious. Sean is beside him, yelling "Get some bleedin' help!" and looking around, as if he will see the perpetrator...
"YOU'RE DEAD, SAD!"
Cut back to ringside.
JACK JONES: But that's when we all realized we'd made a terrible mistake.
LIAM SHEPHERD: That is effed up, man.
JACK JONES: Bears run away if you play dead. Not sharks. Bears.
LIAM SHEPHERD: You'd know all about bears, wouldn't you ya f'n... how about backstage? Somebody took out Seamus O'Connor!
JACK JONES: If by 'somebody' you mean 'Sexy Adorable Drunks.'
LIAM SHEPHERD: Probab-effin-lee.
JACK JONES: Although... the SAD aren't exactly 'subtle.' And they like attention! CAN WE BE SURE IT WAS THEM?
LIAM SHEPHERD: For Cobain's sake, do you EVER shut up?
TRENTON OSWALD: HEY FANS! RIGHT NOW, I WANT YOU TO WELCOME... YOURRRRRRRRR NAPW WORLD CHAMPIONNNNN... JEFFREY ROBERTS OH YEAHHHH!
OH WA AH AH AH!
Disturbed hits and the crowd gets VICIOUS, hurling hate at the smiling Jeffrey Roberts. The champ is wearing a fine tuxedo, the title belt around his waist and accentuated by gleaming gold rings and... a monocle. Behind the champion, brandishing a polished silver serving tray. Roberts makes his way around ringside as security opens a space between guard rails for the champ. The velvet rope is lifted, and Roberts enters into the 'luxury box.' Malone steps in behind him and puts the serving tray down on the end table. He procures a Riedel champagne flute and then expertly, professionally cracks open the D'om, pouring Roberts a frothy glass of expensive bubbly. Roberts takes a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Jeffrey Roberts looks out over the crowd, giving a Queen Elizabeth style wave and charming smile.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Listen to these f'n people, they can't even treat the World Champion with some respect. Has NAPW ever had a champion with as much class as Jeffrey Roberts? God bless that friggin' man.
JACK JONES: Oh, he's a real Prince Charming. Not every champion can take away good ringside seats from our hard-working fans! Wheeee! I hope he rots.
LIAM SHEPHERD: You're a goddamn hypocrite, if Mr. Roberts asked you to sit with him right there you'd trip over your tongue!
JACK JONES: I have SOME standards, Liam. Now let's find out which AWESOME NAPW LEGEND is going to take that belt off of Roberts' skinny ass!
THUMP.
The crowd has a reason to cheer, as Corrosion of Conformity picks up. Steve Parker, forehead not entirely healed from the brutal attack at the hands of Roddy Mac two weeks ago, makes his way out. He looks confident; so confident he is wearing the 'smile' to ringside.
TRENTON OSWALD: THE FIRRRRST MAN IN THIS TRIPLE-THREAT #1 CONTENDER'S MATCH... YOU KNOW HIM! FROM THE EAST COAST IN BAHSTAN MASS, HE IS STEEEEEEEVE PARRRRRRRKER!
Parker hits the ring, but the cheers don't stop.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE SO SMOOTH!"
Santana & Thomas? Pretty sharply contrasting to CoC but hey, this brings out another cocky, unlikely hero...
TRENTON OSWALD: ONE OF HIS OPPONENTS... SON OF VEGAS, SOUL OF GEORGIA, CHRRRRRIIIIIIS CASINNNNNNOOOOO!
And finally...
"AND I SAY NO, NAY, NEVER!
NO NAY NEVER NO MORE!
WILL I PLAY THE WILD ROVER! NO NEVER, NO MORE!"
The fans engage in a drunken Irish sing-a-long to the Dropkicks, and out comes a fired up Lloyd Rees, beard in full glory.
TRENTON OSWALD: FINALLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEE... FROM THE GREAT ROCK OF NEWFOUNDLAND, LLLLLLLLLLLOOOOYYYYD REEEEEEEEEES!
Oswald waddles out of the ring, almost slipping in the puddle of his own sweat as Rees poses to the fans. Referee John Sharplin in charge of the contest, he checks all three men, explains the rules, and then calls for the bell!
DING DING DING
LIAM SHEPHERD: Triple-Threat rules under way, first fall WINS the match, this isn't f'n elimination tonight fans. These three were on the same side last week but tonight the winner gets a shot at the world title next Tuesday night!
JACK JONES: We can all see this for what it is --- a blatant attempt by Zouave to weaken the NAPW alliance against his... what, reign? Regime? Who knows? But the fact is, Zouave has put three of NAPW's top stars in the ring at once, and not one of these men is going to cut rate here tonight. We're getting 100% AWESOME.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Not that it strictly matters, the winner tonight just wins the right to be the next f'n victim of the world champion right there!
Roberts is lounging redolently in his beautiful seat. Malone has lifted the serving tray's lid, revealing an assortment of fine cheeses and grapes. Roberts plucks a juicy red grape off the vine and pops it into his mouth, applauding wildly for the match to begin.
Rees. Casino. Parker.
Each man eyeing the others, wondering how to start. The three circle, and then finally... TIE UP!
A three-way tie-up! They all end up in the corner and Sharplin pulls the count. Parker and Rees break off, it's Casino who's back is to the corner
CHOP-CHOP!
Parker and Rees each unleash a knife-edge chop to the chest of Casino; the eyes bug out of The Future's head from the shock. Rees & Parker going with the flow, double-irish whip Casino to the opposite corner, but Casino leaps up and over the ropes onto the outside ring apron. Rees chops Parker! Parker chops Rees! Irish whip by Rees, reversed by Parker, Rees into the ropes --- and into a knee from Casino on the outside! Casino slingshots into the ring on Rees' back, then ducks beneath a lariat attempt by Parker! Parker catches Rees instead, sending him out of the ring.
Parker turns around, CASINO with a beautiful dropkick knocks his man over the top rope. The fans cheer and Casino shakes his head, disbelieving the cheering. He grasps the top rope...
SLINGSHOT BODYPRESS ONTO BOTH MEN! And Casino gets to his feet first, pumped!
JACK JONES: If there's one area of the match Casino has an advantage in, it's the high-flying. Rees and Parker are technician's technicans. Casino's no slouch in that department but he can and will go airborne!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Who wants to see a WRESTLING match anyways? Somebody bring in the ladder like last week, that was f'n off the chain!
JACK JONES: Yes, let's decimate our entire roster in two shows, let's just have ALL ladder matches ALL the time THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T RUN A FED WHY ARE YOU EVEN ON THE SHOW forget it.
Casino bundles Steve Parker into the ring, renewing their rivalry from last fall. Right hands by Casino, then he hooks up Parker for a suplex. Parker blocks, getting a fist into Casino's ribs. He spins out, hanging onto Casino's wrist and --- WRIST CLUTCH BACK SUPLEX! Casino pop up! Belly to belly from Parker! Clothesline knocks Casino down! Parker pulling Casino up, INSIDE CRADLE ONE TWO Parker kicks out, Casino sends Parker to the ropes! DROPKICK --- Parker holds onto the ropes and Casino whiffs, crashing to the mat. Parker quickly going to it, looking for the FREEDOM FRYER! He's looking to lock it in, but Casino desperate to avoid that. Casino grabs the bottom rope and John Sharplin calls for the bell. Parker holding an armbar ---
LLOYD REES!
BACK SUPLEX, and that was high and landed Parker hard! Jeffrey Roberts applauds wildly, taking a swig of champagne. Roberts holds the glass up for the zombie-like Joey Malone to dutifully refill; Roberts appears to be enjoying every second of this contest.
Now it's Lloyd Rees with Parker in a front face lock, just HAMMERING forearms across Parker's back. Rees looks up ---
CASINO CLOTHESLINE TO REES ---
WHO DROPS PARKER WITH A DDT AT THE SAME TIME!
JACK JONES: That should be called the PRICE LINE! I'm pretty sure Casino is good friends with THE SHAT anyways!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Who the eff is the Shat?
JACK JONES: ... ... ... ... Well, my faith in humanity is destroyed. More destroyed.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Great effin' combo there, but Casino's the man that's up!
Casino smirking a little, he can't help but showboat. He picks up Lloyd Rees, grabbing a handful of beard for 'old time's sake.' Rees knocks Casino's hands away! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! Casino on the ropes, Rees with a belly to belly suplex of his own sends Casino...
Right into a running knee by Steve Parker! Casino flattened in the mush! Rees and Parker tie-up, collar and elbow as Casino rolls to the edge of the apron. Rees with a hammerlock, countered by Parker, hammerlock, side headlock, takedown. Parker holding Rees down on the canvas, but Rees changes his body position and starts regaining his feet. He gets behind Parker, Back Suplex, Parker lands on his feet after flipping out! GERMAN SUPLEX, Rees rushes to the ropes and holds on, Parker instead tries the O'Connor Roll (different O'Connor), Rees holds the ropes, Parker rolls to the center of the ring and pops up. Rees with a lariat, Parker ducks and catches him FREEDOM FRYER! Can he force Rees down?
He can when Chris Casino grabs the LEGS of Lloyd Rees and locks on a SINGLE LEG CRAB! We haven't seen that from Casino before, but now Rees is being stretched from both ends! Sharplin looks at the situation and says "I CAN'T COUNT THIS!" Rees will not tap out even as Parker and Casino hold on, bending him into an East Coast Pretzel...
As one Parker and Casino release their holds, realizing they can't win the match like that. Casino and Parker circling now as Rees recovers, Casino doing what he does best: RUNNING HIS MOUTH! Parker gives it right back though, and then Casino fires off with a forearm that's blocked as Parker delivers a European Uppercut!
JACK JONES: HEY.
LIAM SHEPHERD: I knew that jerk was a hypocrite!
JACK JONES: He uses German Suplexes too HASH TAG SHIT I DON'T CARE ABOUT SHUT UP SHEPHERD.
LIAM SHEPHERD: What the eff was that?
JACK JONES: I JUST TWEETED, JOLLY ROGER! NUMBER LAST YEAR SHEPHERD IS A DOUCHE!
LIAM SHEPHERD: %!@#
Parker is rocking Casino, getting the better of him right into a corner. CHOPS! WHOOO! WHOOO! WHOOO! Casino's had enough, abruptly turns it around! CHOPS TO PARKER! Both men have RED RED welts on their chests. They fight out to center ring, momentarily pausing to collect themselves...
DOUBLE SUPERKICKS!
TO LLOYD REES!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Now that was some shit! Rees was back on his feet and Casino and Parker didn't even f'n look at him, they just snapped off stereo superkicks!
JACK JONES: Well technically Casino used a superkick, and Parker used a SUPER-SIZED kick, but to the NAKED EYE I can see how you'd be confused.
Rees tumbles to the outside but Casino is the quicker, jamming a thumb to the eye. Hey, he never said he'd change his STYLE to take out the clown... with Parker stunned, Casino hooks his man up and delivers a BRAINBUSTER! But no cover, Casino is going up TOP. The Future slaps his chest three times and shimmies his shoulders, signalling for...
FROG SPLASH!
CONNECTS!
Too bad it connected to the raised KNEES of Steve Parker.
Casino holds his mid-section in agony, stumbling about as Parker gets up and suddenly hooks Casino for the AMERICAN SUPLEX! Casino dropped right on the back of his head and Steve Parker hooks the leg! ONE! TWO!
KICK-OUT!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Not a lot of covers yet in this match but damn that was close!
JACK JONES: If Hewson was here, he would ask me who I bet on, and I would keep changing my decision, because DON'T MAKE ME CHOOSE I LOVE THEM ALL LIKE MY CHILDREN, NOT THE CHILDREN I GAVE BIRTH TO, BUT MY BOTTLES OF OLD SCOTCH!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Where the $%@! did they dig you up, Jones?
Parker working Casino over with a reverse chin lock. Casino fights up, throws elbows to the midsection. One, two, three ah ah --- Casino escapes SNAP Parker grabs the short hairs and Casino's back on the mat. Parker now going to the TOP ROPE...
WAIT WAIT WAIT LLOYD REES BACK IN CHARGES UP IN THE INSIDE TURNBUCKLE AND ...
WABANA BUSTER TO STEVE PARKER!
But Casino boots Rees immediately after! He's got the arms, going for the BANKRUPT
COUNTERED
ROVER RINGER!
All three men are down! Sharplin may start making his count... NO! Rees throws an arm over Steve Parker, who's down and out from the Wabana Buster!
ONE!
TWO!
KICK-OUT!
Now Rees covers Casino!
ONE!
TWO!
KICK-OUT!
The crowd is going BANANA!
LIAM SHEPHERD: That's right, champ, this match is f'n great. Why's everybody give Roberts such a damn bad rap, look at the champ: he's enjoying this classic contest!
JACK JONES: I'm sure he is, watching the three biggest threats to his title soften themselves up before getting another shot at the gold. This match is fantastic, and all three men are worthy #1 contenders for the World Championship, but the REASON it's been set up stinks like my old roommate's empty cans of tunafish.
LIAM SHEPHERD: What the eff, man?
JACK JONES: Dude LOVED tunafish. Just... never rinsed out the cans and threw them out. And you thought I was a slob!
Casino and Parker both stirring, but it's Rees who is on his feet first, slinging an arm back over the middle rope and peering out with coal-black eyes. Rees has gone into his zone of utter focus. Casino is up, Rees clothesline him down! Parker is up, Rees takes him down! Casino and Parker up, Rees conks their heads together as the crowd loves it! But Rees has to figure out somebody. He hooks up Chris Casino...
MINER DRIVER!
The cover! ONE! TWO!
Parker breaks it up! Parker pummelling Rees, he pulls his man up, looking for another American Suplex, but Rees breaks the clutch! He sweeps the legs of Parker, CLOVERLEAF! Looking for the LANCE COVE LEGLOCK!
SMALL PACKAGE BY STEVE PARKER!
ONE!
TWO!
Casino breaks it up!
Casino still woozy from the Miner Driver, while Rees and Parker are both still firing. Rees ducks a Parker clothesline... but Parker leaps up and nails the GAMENGIRI! Rees goes down and tumbles out of the ring as Casino gets to his feet.
SUPER-SIZED KICK!
DUCKED!
Casino grabs the off-balance Parker's arms, spins him around and
BANKRUPTS STEVE PARKER!
Cover, LEG IS HOOKED ONE!
TWO!
LLOYD REES BREAKS IT UP WITH A DIVING ELBOW TO CASINO!
JACK JONES: HOLY HELL! HOW CLOSE WAS THAT?
LIAM SHEPHERD: %$!# I THOUGHT HE HAD HIM!
JACK JONES: Rees wants the CONCEPTION BAY CHINLOCK! THIS IS GONNA BE ALL IF HE CAN GET IT LOCKED IN!
Rees struggling to apply the hold to Casino, but Casino twists his body around and out and hits an STO...
INTO THE KOJI CLUTCH!
JACK JONES: HOLY HELL! ROLLING THE HARD 7! We've seen that move like... NEVER!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Dammit of all these three Chris Casino is the LAST f'n guy I want to win! Can't believe I'm sayin' this but MAKE THE ROPES REES!
Rees is in pain, he's holding on. Steve Parker is on the edge of the ring apron, dazed from the Bankrupt he just endured! Casino holding on, will Rees tap?
He's Lloyd Rees, he's going to FIGHT! Rees inches... inches... kicks his legs out...
Casino squeezes! Rees' hand comes up, he's going to submit...
NO! ONE MORE BURST --- and Rees gets his toes on the bottom rope! John Sharplin calls for the break, Casino holding on for one, two, three, four, lets go before it's too late. Casino is pulled off Rees.
And senses somebody behind him.
SUPERKICK
But now it's STEVE PARKER'S TURN TO COUNTER! He catches the foot of Casino and spins the man around, sinking in a COBRA CLUTCH! Parker forces Casino down, getting the arm between his legs, scissored, and it's THE FREEDOM FRYER! Now it's Chris Casino's turn to TAP or SNAP! Casino's hands are up, he's in a hell of a lot of pain here! Parker wrenches back, roaring from a place deep inside, ripping and tearing on Chris Casino!
Casino's hand is shaking, will he tap out? He's thinking about it as sweat pours from the end of his nose, as sweat pours from Steve Parker's face, trickling onto the canvas! Casino makes a fist and says NO, inching towards the ropes! Can he make it? HE'S ALMOST THERE! Fingertips brushing the ropes...
PARKER ROLLS BACKWARDS, SHOULDERS DOWN, KEEPS ROLLING...
BACK TO THE CENTER OF THE RING! CASINO HOLDING ON, BUT---
CONCEPTION BAY CHINLOCK!
LIAM SHEPHERD: Lloyd Rees has the Chinlock on Steve Parker, the Freedom Fryer is broken! And now Rees is the one tryin' to make somebody f'n tap out! Holy shit this is intense!
JACK JONES: Yeah, it's the kind of wrestling NAPW has been bringing only EVERY WEEK since ... FIVE YEARS AGO. Tell me again why we need ZOUAVE's brand of crap?
On the outside, Jeffrey Roberts is enjoying this perhaps a little too much, banging the side of his chair obtrusively. But nobody gives a crap about him right now, they are DEEPLY into this contest as Parker takes his turn trying to DESPERATELY hold on in a submission situation! He's looking for the ropes, but Rees pulls him down to the canvas and gets the body scissors! Parker in a bad way, he's reaching, but the arm is slowing, he may be close to passing out...
When Chris Casino repays Rees for 'saving' him with a FROG SPLASH onto both men! Rees is on the bottom of that sandwich even as Casino holds his ribs. But he covers on Steve Parker...
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Casino reaches for Rees, covering him!
ONE!
TWO!
Rees kicks out!
And Casino, exhausted, slumps back trying to catch his breath, soaked in sweat. Not that the three competitors COMBINED have sweat as much as Trenton Oswald did in like, two minutes, but that's neither here nor there. Casino pulls himself up by the ropes, then slaps at his own upraised elbow.
The crowd goes bonkers, knowing what's coming. Parker and Rees are both still prone on the canvas as Casino ascends to the heavens...
JACK JONES: The most picture-perfect flying elbow in NAPW today!
LIAM SHEPHERD: But he's gotta pick an f'n target!
That Casino does, and he hesitates, deciding whether to drop the elbow on Steve Parker or Lloyd Rees...
Steve Parker surges to hit the ropes. Casino loses his balance and lands uncomfortably on the top turnbuckle.
That doesn't stop Chris Casino, as he gets his footing back despite the pain in his privates. He gets up, looks for Rees ...
Rees isn't there anymore. He's on the ring apron and he shoves Chris Casino off.
Casino flies hard to the floor in the aisle way, tumbling to a crash on the concrete.
JACK JONES: What's it going to take for this match to end?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Might just be a war of f'n attrition, man, that was a $%#! spill Casino just took. BAM right on the concrete. F'n rights.
JACK JONES: Somebody has to find a ... fourteenth wind! And hey what the hell? Oh hells!
LIAM SHEPHERD: JACOB VENAR!
JACK JONES: What's that idiot doing?
LIAM SHEPHERD: Making an impact, Jones, making an f'n impact!
Chris Casino gingerly pulls to his feet using the guardrail when WHAM. Jacob Venar blindsides him from behind! He grabs Casino by the scruff and proverbial belt loops and beale tosses Casino down the aisle acreoss the concrete. A furious Venar stalks Casino up the aisle... Casino fights back! Casino with shots Venar with a kneelift shuts Casino down, then OH! DDT ON THE CONCRETE! Casino is in a world of hurt as the fans boo Venar heavily.
Venar doesn't pay any attention to the fans, though, as he is setting up a TABLE. He lays Casino on it... and then...
steps from the table to the entrance way, the metal frame over the curtain! It sways, but Venar scales to the top. He looks out over the crowd and...
SPREAD!
MY!
WINGS!
CRASH!
LIAM SHEPHERD: F'N RIGHTS MOTHER$#@! JACOB VENAR JUST PUT CHRIS CASINO THROUGH A TABLE, F'N SPREAD MY WINGS YEAH!
JACK JONES: That slimy son of a bitch, he just cost Chris Casino a shot at the world title! What the hell is Venar THINKING?
LIAM SHEPHERD: He's thinking NO MORE WAITING AROUND, I love it Jacob! I love it! Show these idiots who you are, don't WAIT AROUND anymore! Nobody should look at Jacob Venar as f'n second-rate again!
Trainers are out, checking on both men, but Venar shoves them away and stumbles to the back on his own power --- unsurprisingly, the SMW through a table to concrete hurt him too. But Casino just wrestled an exhausting match and was sneak attacked, DDTed on the concrete, he's barely conscious.
Back to the ring, Rees and Parker are trading heavy, tired blows. Forearm strike by Parker... Rees with a European uppercut. Parker staggered... big chop. Rees stumbles backwards to the ropes, which spring him back out to forearm Parker. Parker takes three steps backwards, hits the ropes, and comes out with another stiff forearm. Rees. Forearm. Parker. Forearm.
REES. FOREARM.
PARKER. FOREARM.
THEY'RE GAINING IN SPEED, CENTER RING.
FOREARM AFTER FOREARM. REES & PARKER. SHEER GUTS.
WHAM WHAM WHAM until the two men come apart like a split melon. Rees stumbles back to the ropes. Parker in with a clothesline attempt, Rees RINGER ROVER.
Parker hooks the top rope and it's only Rees who hits the canvas, losing his wind. Parker covers, resists the urge to put his feet on the rope, but he's got Rees folded up!
ONE!
TWO!
REES KICKS OUT!
Rees gasping for breath as Parker hangs back in a corner, looking twenty years aged by this one match. He stomps the foot.
Stomp.
Stomp.
STOMP.
The fans know what's coming, they're on their feet --- they HAVEN'T SAT DOWN.
Rees is clinging to the ropes, swaying, barely able to stand after the beating he's endured. Parker is yelling "COME ON, COME ON ALREADY."
Rees is UP...
SUPER-SIZED KICK...
Rees bails out of the way.
Steve Parker gets caught up in the top rope...
Until Lloyd Rees suddenly pulls him down backwards, delivering a crazy DDT FROM THE GREEN.
He covers ONE, TWO, THREE
Parker thrusts the shoulder up at the last split-second.
Lloyd Rees instinctively rolls Parker over using the man's own momentum and suddenly has the inverted front facelock... Parker fights for the ropes, still on his feet, but Rees drops back and applies the body scissors.
Conception Bay Chinlock.
Parker fights, fights, and fights some more...
But the referee raises the arm three times, and it drops three times. Steve Parker is out. The ref calls for the bell.
TRENTON OSWALD: Here is your winner... and NEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW NUMBER ONNNNNAH CONTENDAH........ LLLLLLLLLLOYD REEEEEEEEES!
LIAM SHEPHERD: And just one week from today, Rees has to face the WORLD CHAMPION Jeffrey Roberts, no matter what kind of f'n war he just went to!
JACK JONES: There was no 'right' winner but this matches entire complexion was changed by Jacob Venar, we don't know what could have happened! Steve Parker, Chris Casino, both had their chances to put this one away, but it's Rees with the hold that could very well END the World title run of Jeffrey Roberts pulling out the victory! God, if only they could ALL BE WINNERS.
LIAM SHEPHERD: Put a g-string in it, ya pansy.
Rees doesn't look strictly 'happy' at his victory. He lays on the canvas, drenched in perspiration, and starting out at one man.
The deliriously happy, possibly drunk Jeffrey Roberts, who shakes up and pops open another bottle of champagne loudly, spouting bubbly all over the place, even into the ring.
Lloyd Rees has won the match, but at what cost to the fragile unity of the NAPW Veterans?
And what will he have left in just one short week against that man right there, the refreshed, rested NAPW World Champion?
Lights down.