EPIC06/05/2006
Music: "O Fortuna"
Sors salutis! (Fate is against me) Lights down.
Fade in on the capacity crowd in the Polish Hall, and IMMEDIATELY - "Keep Talkin" by Juvenile pumps through the arena sound system as the duo of Heat & Chopper emerge to a huge chorus of boos from the fans! Longshot, the manager of the hood heroes joins his men on the entrance way and the trio make their way leisurely down to the ring. BILL HEWSON: What a way to kick off Epic! Heat & Chopper from The Charitable Trust are looking to make a name for themselves by beating D! & Static. Two guys who aren't exactly on the same page these days! JACK JONES: This is gonna be brutal! D! & Static are going to be the first of many upsets here tonight! I can feel it! FRANK WARBURTON: This contest is your opening match here at EPIC! Making their way to the ring accompanied by the manager of Champions LONGSHOT... weighing in tonight at a total combined weight of FOUR-hundred and seventy-five pounds... they are HEAT annnnd CHOPPERRRRRR! With the members of Charitable Trust in the ring, "Right Before My Eyes" by The Snitches blasts over the speakers! D! comes out to a huge pop from the crowd and looks down at the ring where his enemy awaits. "Right Before My Eyes" transitions into "Bada Bing" by Dangerdoom and the hardcore luchadore Static comes out to join his partner. The two men exchange a quick look before making their way ringside. FRANK WARBURTON: Annnnd THEIR OPPONENTS! They weigh in at a combined 385 lbs, the team of DEEEEEE and STATIIIIIIIC! BILL HEWSON: I wonder what that look was about? JACK JONES: Maybe D! owes Static some money? BILL HEWSON: Five minutes into PPV, and I already hate you. D! & Static climb into the ring while Longshot, standing behind Heat & Chopper, starts laying the bad mouth on them. JACK JONES: They should just award them the match right now and save D! & Static a beating. BILL HEWSON: These two men have been on the verge of killing each other the last month or so. If they want to win then they need to work together. JACK JONES: Kinda like us. The referee calls for the bell and Longshot climbs out of the ring. Heat & Chopper watch on as Static & D! seem to be having issues over who will start the match. Without warning Heat & Chopper bum rush D! & Static and attack them! Static is quickly tossed to the outside as Heat & Chopper double team D! with punches and kicks! The hood heroes each grab an arm and send D! into the ropes with an Irish whip. They try a double clothesline but D! low bridges it, rebounds off the far ropes and drops Heat & Chopper with a double clothesline of his own! The referee corners Heat and gets him back to his corner as D! pulls Chopper to his feet. A rake of the eyes stops D! cold and Chopper quickly follows up by driving a knee into the ribs of the former Heavyweight champion! Chopper scoops D! up and slams him down hard to the mat. As D! lays motionless, Chopper comes off the ropes and drops an elbow - only to have D! roll out of harms way at the last second! D! drags Chopper to his feet and starts to pound away with stiff looking rights to the head. D! shoots Chopper off the ropes and takes him up into the lights with a high backdrop! JACK JONES: What is this! Why won't D! just die? BILL HEWSON: Because he's NAPW's Franchise Player that's why! Static slaps the back of D! and the referee calls it a tag! D! looks at Static as he enters the ring and the pair have a tense moment. It's all the opening Chopper needs as he shoves D! from behind causing him to knock heads with Static! D! rolls to the outside as Chopper pulls Static up to his feet and Irish whips him across the ring to the Charitable Trust corner! Static hits hard and Heat holds him in place as Chopper buries a shoulder into the gut of his opponent. Heat is tagged in and quickly pulls Static away from the corner only to drive him to the mat with a brutal brainbuster suplex! Heat goes for a cover but Static gets a shoulder up at two! Heat pulls a groggy Static to his feet and tags in Chopper. Static is shot into the ropes and brought down to the mat with a drop toehold from Heat! Chopper quickly follows up and drops a leg across the back of Static's head! Chopper goes for a cover but again Static just manages to get a shoulder up at the count of two! Chopper pulls Static up to a standing position long enough to nearly suplex him out of his boots with an exploder suplex! BILL HEWSON: Chopper could have broken him in half! JACK JONES: We can hope. Chopper gets to his feet and spits at D! which causes him to try and enter the ring! While the referee is busy trying to get D! back to is corner Chopper claps his hands together as if he made a tag to Heat! Heat enters the ring, and watches as Chopper nails his Lungblower (Carlito-style backbreaker) onto the much smaller man! Heat then comes off the ropes and drops a knee across the skull of Static! The referee has finally gotten D! back to his corner and turns around just as Chopper rolls out of the ring. The fans are giving the referee a hard time about the illegal tag but he's more concerned with Heat. Heat has mounted Static and is raining down hard right hands to the head of Static! He breaks at the count of four and tags back in Chopper. The two men double snap suplex Static and Chopper goes in for the pin. D! rushes in and kicks Chopper breaking the count at two! Chopper is smiling at D! as the referee tries to get him out of the ring, while at the same time dragging Static back to his feet. Static quickly slips his head under the jaw of Chopper and drops downs for a jawbreaker! BILL HEWSON: Static made himself an opening! Make the tag Static! Chopper staggers back and Static uses the ring ropes to pull himself up to a vertical base. Chopper rushes at Static only to take boot to the gut! Static follows up with a pair of reverse knife edge chops that echo through the building! Chopper is reeling and Static tries for another kick - but it's caught! Chopper smirks at Static - and gets hit with an inziguri! Chopper drops to the mat holding his head as D! reaches into the ring as far as he can and tags himself into the match! D! leaps over the top rope, drops a rising Chopper with a big right hand, and plants a back elbow into the face of Heat who has rushed into the ring! Longshot is on the apron and D! goes for him, only to have Shot drop down a moment before D! connects with a wild right hand! D! spins around and takes a Chopper Decleater (spear)! Chopper goes for the cover but D! powers out at two! Heat is ushered back to his corner by the referee as Chopper pulls D! up to his feet and hoists him up onto his shoulder. Chopper tries to hit what looks like a snake eyes move but at the last second D! wiggles free and shoves Chopper sternum first into the turnbuckle! JACK JONES: Oooooooooooh Come on! BILL HEWSON: D! will simply not go down without a fight! D! spins Chopper around and shots him across the ring to the far turnbuckle. Stinger splash! D! motions that he's going for another when Heat levels him from behind with a forearm to the head! Before the referee can get Heat out of the ring, Heat drops D! with a Inverted neckbreaker! Static comes in and catches Chopper flush with a leg lariat that takes the man down! Static rolls out of the ring and turns to see both men are down. D! is getting to his feet quicker though and Static is begging for a tag. D! looks at Static...And ignores him. Instead he rushes at Chopper only to run straight into a spinebuster! Chopper gets to his feet on rubber legs and sets himself for another Decleater. D! is willing himself back to his feet and the crowd is clapping and stomping their feet so hard it makes the building rock. D! gets to his feet and Chopper springs at him! D! leapfrogs Chopper and it's Static who is hit with the spear! The move sends Static flying from the ring apron to the floor with a sick thud. BILL HEWSON: Oh my God! Static took that Decleater dead on! JACK JONES: HA! D! set that up I'm telling ya! It was all planned! BILL HEWSON: Be quiet! Chopper looks out at Static, turns around and is dropped with a big right hand to the head! D! looks possessed as starts stomping away at Chopper who is trying to cover up! Heat enters the ring and D! greets him with a big right hand! Another! A third haymaker drops Heat to the mat like a bad habit! Longshot is back on the ring apron and the referee is once again preoccupied with Heat & Longshot! D! turns back to Chopper and takes a low blow that drops him to his knees! Chopper crawls across the ring and tags in Heat who looks ready to hurt someone. The crowd is buzzing and the cameras pan over to Static who is back on his feet...And slowly making his way up the entrance ramp? BILL HEWSON: Static is leaving! It was an accident Static come back and help D! JACK JONES: Are you going to start crying? Back in the ring, Heat shots D! into the ropes and snaps off a powerslam! Heat starts to go for a pin but Longshot is pointing at something. Or someone. Heat looks over, smiles and pulls D! up to a sitting position so that he can see Static apparently leaving the match! Heat drops an elbow onto the top of D!'s skull and goes for a pin. D! rolls up a shoulder at two! On the entrance way Static looks to be having second thoughts at he stops and looks back at the action in the ring. The crowd is all over him to help D! whose head is currently being kicked like a soccer ball by Heat. BILL HEWSON: Yes! Come back Static! Help D! Don't let The Trust win this way! JACK JONES: Ahhhhhhh, so you admit they're going to win! Static shakes his head and makes his way back to the ring as the crowd voice their approval! Heat pulls D! up but gets a thumb to the eye. D! starts to pound away at Heat's chest with hard open hand palm strikes backing Heat up against the ropes! D! whips Heat off of the ropes - it's reversed! D! hits the ropes and Static reaches out and makes a blind tag! Heat misses a clothesline, spins around and takes a kick to the gut! D! cinches him up, Nyquil Driver! D! tries to go for the pin but the referee is telling him he's not legal. Static is going up top and Chopper rushes into the ring! D! quickly grabs the legs of Chopper bringing him down to the mat as Static hits a Moment Of Clarity onto Heat! Three slaps of the mat later and D! & Static have won this thing! FRANK WARBURTON: Here are YOUR winners, D! & Static! BILL HEWSON: What a comeback! D! & Static have somehow pulled this off! JACK JONES: It's robbery! God, I hope this isn't a sign of things to come for the Charitable Trust. D! rolls out of the ring, a nasty grin on his face as Static celebrates like he's won the Super Bowl. D! looks on, shaking his head, and then turns to leave as Static basks in the cheers of the fans. Cut to a video package for the next match... DELIVERY MAN... VS DELIVERY MAN...VS KRUSTY KID PAUL. JACK JONES: (back from video) ...and she asked "Why does that dog have your pants?" BILL HEWSON: ...The triple threat match between the two Delivery Men and Krusty Kid Paul is next! JACK JONES: I mean, do you know how embarrassing it is when the dog's got your pants? BILL HEWSON: Please, Jack! We're talking about the breakdown of one of NAPW's favourite tag teams here! lvis Costello starts to play as Delivery Man #1 enters through the curtain. A mixed reaction from the crowd, and the camera swivels to reveal Tex sitting in the third row, glaring at #1. JACK JONES: What's the deal? Are they back together again? BILL HEWSON: #1 told Tex that he needed her for Epic, and she agreed. However, she did tell him that she'd be staying away from him afterwards. It seems like the fans wouldn't mind seeing her stay away at all. JACK JONES: Neither would #2! FRANK WARBURTON: This match is a TRIPLE THREAT MATCH for a Provincial or Tag Team Title Shot. Featuring first, from Trenton, New Jersey, weighing in at 249 pounds! This is DEELIVERY MAAN NUMBEEER ONNNNNE! "Pull Out!" - Kill Radio! A vocal minority of fans are cheering for Krusty Kid Paul, who enters cockily, admiring himself in the reflective entrance, shouting "Who's the sexy bitch?" FRANK WARBURTON: From Kitchener, Ontario, weighing in at 240 pounds, this is KRRRUSTYYYYY KIIIIID PAAAAUUULLL! Finally, the Headstones' "Son of a Bitch to the Core" rings out, and now the crowd goes wild! The smaller Delivery Man comes out to huge cheers. FRANK WARBURTON: Finally, from Guelph, Ontario, the speediest Delivery Man out there, DEEELIVERY MAAN NUMBEERRR TWWWOOOOO! ALL three men are in the ring, staring each other down. #1 looking at both opponents, #2 glaring at Tex in the audience, and KKP smirking at both Delivery Men. Morgan Smythe calls for the bell, and it's on! Krusty Kid Paul with the first shot, knocking #2 down, and kicks him to the outside of the ring. Paul and #1 lock up! #1 with the headlock, and Paul pushes him to the ropes. #1 comes back with a shoulder block. KKP doesn't drop. #1 runs back into the ropes, and goes for another shoulder block, but KKP uses #1's momentum to throw him to the other rope, where #2 is getting back to his feet. And #2 goes flying off the apron to the ground! #1 looks at his partner, writhing on the floor in pain, but KKP from behind with the double axe handle! KKP maneuvers #1 into the turnbuckle and just lets fly with knees to #1's gut! #1 grabs KKP, and throws Paul into the same corner! #1 runs to the middle of the ring, and just AVALANCHES Paul in the corner! And Paul drops to the bottom turnbuckle, dazed, as #1 reciprocates with his own knees to KKP's face. BILL HEWSON: That looks like it's GOT to hurt! JACK JONES: These men are both brawlers, Hewson! It's going to be a lot of bruising until Delivery Man #2 gets back in to this match! BILL HEWSON: #2 is on his hands and knees, finally getting up from being knocked out of the ring by #1. Bill Hewson is telling the truth, as #2's shaking off the shock of flying off the apron. KKP's got the upper hand in the ring, blocking a punch from #1, and lifting his leg to groin the Delivery Man. Smythe warns KKP to stop with the shenanigans, so KKP shrugs and a spinebuster takes #1 to the floor. And #2's up on the turnbuckle! He flies, crossbody onto Krusty Kid Paul! The crowd cheers the lightweight Delivery Man, who's rolling KKP up! Speedy Delivery! One! KKP kicks out! A disappointed crowd awwws, as all three men are up, looking at each other. Paul smirks and backs into the corner, motioning for the two Delivery Men to face each other. #1 charges #2, but #2 jumps and hurricanrana! #1 flies through the middle rope! And the crowd sighs. BILL HEWSON: The crowd is REALLY wanting to see the Delivery Men explode here! JACK JONES: These two haven't been on the same page since Tex entered the picture. There's a lot of tension between these two friends tonight. Paul takes the advantage, with a clubbing blow to the back of #2! He grabs the shoulders of the groggy Delivery Man and hoists him up. POWERBOMB! And #2 is not in any shape to fight back. Paul has complete control here, with #1 laying on the outside of the ring, and #2 sprawled out in the ring. KKP shouts out "Where's my Crack Rock?" which gets his fans cheering. He drags #2 to the corner, and ties the small man's legs around the ring post. Tree of Woe! What's he doing? Cross arm breaker from the apron? CRACK ROCK STEADY! And #2's hollering for help, and Smythe is telling KKP to stop the submission, but there's no countouts in this match. All she can do is warn the unorthodox Paul. KKP's pulling on #2's arm like you wouldn't believe! BILL HEWSON: Krusty Kid Paul is on fire in this match! JACK JONES: He knows the strategy in this triple threat: Divide and conquer! Your opponent can't do much if he's outside of the ring! #2 is yelling in pain! What's this? #1's up, and is bending the back of Krusty Kid Paul around the ring post! KKP releases the submission on #2. #1 pulls KKP off the apron, and has him locked in a side bear hug, squeezing the torso of KKP for all he's worth! And Smythe is helping #2 out of the Tree of Woe position. #1 is just making KKP scream out in pain on the floor! #2's recovered enough to go to the top. CROSS BODY on BOTH his opponents on the outside of the ring! All men are down! #2's up first, and he pulls KKP up and pushes him back into the ring. #2 runs at a prone KKP, somersault leg drop! And #2 locks in Stranglehold Alpha! KKP's arm is being pulled out of its socket while #2 has his legs wrapped around the head and shoulder of Paul! But Paul grabs the ropes, and Smythe is warning #2 to break the hold! KKP is using the ropes to pick himself up with #2 still holding on! What strength by Paul! POWERBOMB! And #2's on the mat! Paul with a knee drop to the head, followed by running against the ropes- #1 HAS PULLED DOWN THE TOP ROPE! Paul TUMBLES out of the ring, as the crowd cheers. #1 climbs into the ring, and it's the two partners in the ring! #1 looks down at the prone #2, and lays in with boots! The crowd boos! JACK JONES: This is what the fans have come to see! The destruction of the Delivery Men! #1 picks up his partner over the his shoulder and methodically marches over to the turnbuckle. And he drops the face of #2 onto the turnbuckle! Snake Eyes! #2 is reeling! #1 shouts at the crowd that this is it! #1 hoists up #2 on his shoulders in the Last Ride position! HURRICANRANA by the smaller man! The crowd roars as #2 gets the upper hand! Another somersault leg drop, this time on #1. #2 pulls up #1, and whips him to the ropes, but #1 comes roaring back with a punishing clothesline! #1 from behind, with a half nelson! And he just SLAMS #2 to the canvas! KKP is back in the ring, now, but it perfectly content to watch the other two men destroy each other. #1 throws #2 to the corner, and puts the smaller man on the top. A superplex? Krusty Kid Paul, quick like a bunny, runs to the corner, and while #1 climbs up, Paul gets underneath him, the superplex to #2 has also become a POWERBOMB to #1! Both Delivery Men are down! And Paul starts beating down on #2 with hammering blows as #1 gets to his feet! Clothesline on Paul, who gets right back up to slam #1 to the mat. But #2 gets up! Paul with the sidewalk slam to #2...#1 with a tackle from a three point position. All three men are down! BILL HEWSON: Krusty Kid Paul is now facing off against both Delivery Men simultaneously! How long can he keep this up? The three men are all up, glancing warily at each other. Paul is switching between both Delivery Men, and the Delivery Men look at each other. And smile. DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE to KKP and the crowd goes KUMQUATS! (Look, I'm not Ryan, okay?) YES! KUMQUATS! #1 and #2 on the same page! They've each got an arm around the head of KKP, DOUBLE BULLDOG! KKP is staggering to get up, but gets taken right down with a Rocket Launcher Cross Body! Both Delivery Men holler to the crowd, and the crowd hollers back! JACK JONES: They must have beaten the aggression out of each other! Either that or they've beaten each other stupid! #2 hits the top turnbuckle, as #1 picks up Krusty Kid Paul in a powerbomb, keeping him up in the air. #2 FLIES from the top, crossbody onto KKP as #1 powerbombs him to the ground! DELIVERY DROP! When's the last time you saw that? #2 hooks the leg! Smythe is there to count, One! Two! Three! FRANK WARBURTON: And yooour winner! DELIVERY MAN NUMBER TWWWOOOOO! The Delivery Men hug in the ring, as Tex stands up and leaves her seat, walking out of the Polish Hall. #2 asks for a mic. DELIVERY MAN #2: After some serious frickin' thought, I've decided that I should frickin' take the tag team title shot with my frickin' tag team partner! No matter who's frickin' champs! Bi-Polar Express, the frickin' Celtic Assassins, whoever! Frick! We'll take anybody on! And the crowd is on their feet, cheering for the reunited Delivery Men! #1 and #2 embrace, then let the referee raise their hands in victory! BILL HEWSON: Well, the Delivery Men are again a force to be reckoned with here in the NAPW, taking a shot at the tag team titles! Thank Goodness --- The World Needs The Delivery Men! Now, our next match is for the Television Title. It will be the three-time champion Don Travelli challenging the current champion, a man who has made it his goal to see the TV Title the most valued belt in NAPW... UZI. Let's see how this came down. Video package for Uzi/Travelli, recapping Uzi's title win, Travelli's defeat of Lobo to earn another shot, clips of Travelli's previous TV Title wins, Uzi vs D!, Uzi vs Devastation... Back to live footage, and the MAFIA WALTZ is playing, bringing out DON TRAVELLI to a chorus of boos. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL, and is for the NAPW Television Title! Introducing first, the challenger...from SICILY, ITALY...He is a former three-time TV Champion...Ladies and gentlemen... DON TRAVELLI! BILL HEWSON: Crowd not a fan of the Don, Jack Jones. JACK JONES: What's not to love? He's got style, he's got flair, he was there, that's how he became...Travelli! BILL HEWSON: Sure he did. "Reach out and touch faith!" And to a mixed reaction, with Buggsy by his side, out walks The Old Testament Terror with the TV Belt strapped around his waist! FRANK WARBURTON: And now, the CHAMPION! Accompanied by Buggsy Goldstein, he hails From Jerusalem... Ladies and gentlemen, this is the NAPW Television Champion...UZI! Uzi hits the ring and Don attacks before the bell! He's all over Uzi in the corner, irish whip, Uzi counters, Don hits the ropes, Uzi tries to squash him --- Don moves! Eye gouge! Back rake! LOW BLOW! Uzi is dazed, DDT! Don hits the ropes, flicks his chin at the crowd and yells "VUFFANCULO!" ... Mafia knee-drop! ONE! TWO! Th---Uzi POWERS Travelli off of him! The Jewish Jackhammer gets to his feet, and FURY of a thousand suns is in his eyes! Travelli runs at him with a clothesline... STOPPED. SOLOMON'S FURY SPINEBUSTER. HOT DAMN. Travelli may be broken in two, cover, Travelli kicks out somehow. Uzi pulls him up, chicken wing... SUPLEX! KABLAM! Cover, Travelli kicks out at two and a half! Uzi shrugs and hoists a swaying Don back up to his feet... BILL HEWSON: And I don't like the look in Uzi's eyes! The Don has somehow offended Uzi on a personal level! JACK JONES: I think Uzi takes Don Travelli's silence this week as an insult, and he's going to make Travelli regret it. Uzi gets up, Travelli swings with a wild right hand, Uzi shrugs it off. He forcibly hauls Travelli up onto his shoulders... the rack! Drops to his knee, breaking Don in half. But no cover this time, as Uzi instead pulls Travelli up. He spins the man around, into position for the TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER...RED SEA DRIVER! And...again no cover! Uzi instead hauls his man up! NUMBER OF THE BEAST SLEEPER! Don's got nothing left, he submits in short order! FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match and STILL Television Champion...UZZZZZI! Uzi hits the turnbuckles with his belt as Don Travelli rolls out of the ring and takes the long walk back to the dressing room. Another mixed reaction for Uzi... JACK JONES: What else is there to say? UZI is the best thing to happen to television since, well, color! BILL HEWSON: Hyperbole aside, a dominating win for UZI tonight, and he is well on his way to becoming one of the most recognized TV Champions in NAPW history. Now, our next match...well... it's time to put the kids to bed, folks. It will be a Stairway To Hell match-up between Billy Kryenik and Patrick Bickle --- "This Is A Man's World" by James Brown hits the PA and Team Man is on the scene! The crowd looks confused as Dan The Man, Thor Heine and Lance emerge from behind the curtain. They make their way to the ring looking like Greek gods. Except for Lance, of course. He looks like a mousy bookeeper with good hair. BILL HEWSON: Hey, what are these guys doing out here? JACK JONES: Maybe they're going to give you a facial, Bill. BILL HEWSON: What!? JACK JONES: You know, clear up your pores and stuff. BILL HEWSON: Oh. Yes. Right. Lance holds open the ring ropes, allowing Thor and Dan to climb into the ring. Both men are dressed in their tight white wrestling trunks, and Thor has a black bag slung over his shoulder. Lance hands Dan a microphone and steps away, never once looking Dan in the eyes (it's written into his contract). DAN: Ho ho ho, look at you fat bastards! The last time I saw so many fat people in one place was at the last Richard Simmons Pool Party! The fans boo like mad. They want the madness to end. Now. DAN: Why is Team Man not on the PPV? Is it jealousy? It must be, because no one has muscles like myself and Thor! Dan and Thor start to pose for an irate crowd. JACK JONES: They are pretty muscular. BILL HEWSON: What? JACK JONES: Nothing. Thor takes the mic from Dan and strolls over to the ring ropes. THOR: (pointing to a man at ringside) Look at that porker, Dan! That's a closet Man Fan if I ever saw one! Dan walks over and starts laughing. DAN: He is a pig!!! "Mooooooooooo! Piggie! "Mooooooooooo!" Ho ho ho, so much sweaty man beef! Did they make you buy two tickets to get into the arena? THOR: It's time we showed these fat, sloppy Canadian closet Man Fans what they're missing! With that Lance opens the bag Thor brought into the ring and pulls out several bottles of lotion. BILL HEWSON: Oh God, we're live. JACK JONES: I, uh, need to see if my car windows are up. Be back in a..... BILL HEWSON: Sit down! Both Dan and Thor standing the middle of the ring as Lance starts to oil up both men. Lance has obviously done this before. DAN: Ho ho ho, it takes the lotion and rubs it on! THOR: Have you been working out, Dan? You're bigger than usual? DAN: Indeed. I did 750 pelvic thrusts before I came out here. THOR: It shows. Lance starts to rubs lotion across the chest of Dan who smiles with delight. Mothers are shielding their children's eyes. SUDDENLY! "The Prisoner" by Iron Maiden hits the PA, and rookie Crash Carver comes out to a big ovation, most likely for an interruption of the in ring rub down. Crash climbs into the ring and snatches away the microphone. CRASH: This. Is. Sick! A huge burst of applause for Crash! CRASH: You should be ashamed! You guys are...Are... DAN: Sexy? THOR: Manly? LANCE: Thuck up? CRASH: You're an embarrassment! This is NAPW's first pay-per-view, and I may be a rookie, but instead of a match we have THIS? What's wrong with you guys? I mean, seriously! Dan and Thor exchange a bemused look - and attack Crash! They quickly bring him down to the mat with punches and kicks. Lance rubs lotion into the eyes of Crash, who screams in pain! Team Man drag Crash up and - MANWICH! A PPV MANWICH! BILL HEWSON: Is it over? JACK JONES: I wonder if Vince is hiring? Dan & Thor "accidently" slip and fall on top of Crash. Repeatadly. Crash looks unconscious, disgusted but unconscious, as Dan and Thor use him for a Slip N' Slide. Lance is cheering them on. Security hits the ring and, thankfully, breaks it up! BILL HEWSON: Thank God! JACK JONES: I feel dirty. Can we cut to...anything? Hey, how about a "Tuesday Night Fights" promo? Okay, done! And yes, NAPW is moving to TUESDAY nights, live on CITY-TV Edmonton and NAPW.ca! Action! moves to Friday nights! Back to Hewson & Jones, the latter looking green. Hewson just shakes his head. BILL HEWSON: Team Man...on pay-per-view...ladies and gentlemen, the ring crew is setting up some items for the next match - JACK JONES: And cleaning the oil off the ring. Ew ew EW. BILL HEWSON: About one month ago, NAPW rookie Patrick Bickle challenged Billy Kryenik to a Pure Honor Match. Kryenik won that, but then it went farther. Bickle challenged Kryenik to a hardcore match in Kryenik style... a match to be determined by the infamous Wheel of Death, the same wheel that resulted in the Kryenik/Deathrow TAIPEI match. The wheel has been spun, and the match tonight, a match that Billy Kryenik excels in but has been trying to get away from... will be violent. Jack Jones, drop some science on us. JACK JONES: I don't know what's scientific about this match... They call Stairway To Hell, Bill Hewson. Above the ring we have got a SPOOL of razor sharp barbed-wire. The match cannot end until somebody uses a ladder to grab the barbed wire... and then it's pinfalls or submissions. Do I need to add that it's no disqualification? This is going to be bloody, it's going to be violent, and I won't be surprised to see a man die in the ring tonight. BILL HEWSON: We can only hope it doesn't go that far. Let's go to Frank! FRANK WARBURTON: This next match is a STAIRWAY TO HELL MATCH! Coming to the ring first, he is one half of the tag team champions, out of Windsor, Ontario... SICK! BILLY! KRYYYYYYENIK! "United Ninety-Three" by Ed Gein hits and the crowd erupts for one half of the tag team champions, "Sick" Billy Kryenik! SBK makes his way down to the ring, eyes fastened on the spool of barbed wire hanging from the ceiling by two thin wires. He slides into the ring and goes to the corner, raising his arms as he mounts each turnbuckle in turn. FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent, accompanied to the ring by Mr. Maps, weighing in at one-hundred and seventy-five pounds, he is your PURE HONOR CHAMPION... PATRICK BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICKLE! "The Number Song" by DJ Shadow blasts across the PA and Patrick Bickle comes out from the back. He has something in his hands and he holds it aloft to a chorus of jeers from the crowd. The Kiniski Cup... wrapped in BARBED WIRE! The crowd voices its displeasure at this display as Bickle makes his way down to the ring with the Cup held high. BILL HEWSON: You just know that seeing that has to make men like Carter Owens and El Mentiroso see red! JACK JONES: I don't know, I kind of like what he's done with the Cup. Gives it a little flair! Bickle enters the ring as Mr. Maps goes to take up his usual position next to the time keeper, resting a first aid kit on his lap as he watches Bickle come face to face with Billy Kryenik. John Sharplin stands near the two men, trying to make sure they understand what few rules there are in this match. Bickle is taunting Sick Billy with the Kiniski Cup, asking him if it is what he wants. SBK just stares at Patrick Bickle, who finally turns to go to his corner. Billy Kryenik does the same - Patrick Bickle wheels back around and cracks Sick Billy across the back of the head with the Kiniski Cup! Sharplin calls for the bell and Patrick Bickle lays the boots in on Kryenik's ribs, still holding the Kiniski Cup in one hand. Billy Kryenik rolls towards the ropes and Bickle takes a running start into a low dropkick that sends Billy crashing to the outside. Patrick Bickle stands back up with a grin on his face and shakes the Kiniski Cup over his head in triumph before handing it to John Sharplin, who looks disgusted as he hands it out of the ring. BILL HEWSON: Patrick Bickle with a sneak attack on Billy Kryenik! It looks like the Sick One is already bleeding from that blow to the back of the head! He's representing Pure Honor, alright. JACK JONES: Honor shmonor, Bickle is my kind of guy, he gets things started right! Bickle watches as Kryenik gets slowly to his feet on the outside. Patrick Bickle hits the opposite side of the ring and comes back with a full head of steam. Bickle just FLINGS his body over the top rope, limbs sprawled in every direction in an attempt to crash down on Billy Kryenik! At the last possible second SBK hurls himself out of the way and Patrick Bickle crashes down to the floor. Bickle clutches his stomach and rolls on the floor, but seems to be laughing. Kryenik touches a hand to the blood running down the back of his head, then runs up and kicks Bickle sharply in the side of the head. Bickle rolls over with the blow, laughing even harder now. Kryenik continues to stomp on the prone Pure Honor champion until a boot to the stomach robs him of his wind and his mad laughter. SBK drags Bickle up off the mat and Irish whips him hard, sending him crashing into the ring steps. Bickle flips over them, landing hard on his back in front of Mr. Maps, who is already looking through his first aid kit with worried eyes. Sick Billy, to the delight of the crowd has flipped up the ring apron and is looking under the ring for something... here comes the ladder! Billy Kryenik wastes no time in getting the ladder out and sliding it into the ring. SBK walks over to the rising Patrick Bickle and kicks him brutally in the ribs. Kryenik grabs the Pure Honor champ by the hair and drags him to the ring, rolling him inside. SBK slides in after him and goes right to the ladder. BILL HEWSON: I don't know that you could even call this a match, matches have wrestling moves! This is degenerating into a war between two madmen! JACK JONES: You say degenerating I say progeneratingawesometastic! BILL HEWSON: That isn't even a word! JACK JONES: Neither is "YOUR MOM"! Patrick Bickle's mom must not be happy if she is watching her son right now. Billy Kryenik has the ladder in his hands and runs across the ring as Bickle pulls himself to his feet. BOOM! The ladder slams into Bickle's side, driving him into the turnbuckle and bouncing right back out towards the middle of the ring. SBK spins around and SLAMS the ladder across Bickle's face, knocking him right back down to the mat with blood streaming from a nose that looks broken. Sick Billy opens the ladder and sets it up in the middle of the ring, beginning a rapid climb towards the deadly prize. But Patrick Bickle is more resilient than Sick Billy knows, and he is back to his feet before Kryenik can reach the top. Bickle hits the ropes as Kryenik reaches up for the spool, coming back and throwing himself into a crossbody INTO THE LADDER! The ladder wobbles and then topples over sideways from the impact, sending Billy Kryenik crashing down to earth... right across the top rope! "Sick" Billy Kryenik just got hung up on the top rope after a fifteen foot drop! Patrick Bickle is down as well, grabbing his stomach and kicking his feet. BILL HEWSON: Patrick Bickle... what can you even say? He could have just as easily pushed over the ladder, and instead he sacrifices his body - for no reason! Patrick Bickle is the first to his feet, Kryenik still hung out to dry over the top rope, arms and head dangling limply. Bickle grabs the ladder and lifts it up, then turns his eyes towards his opponent. Bickle takes two steps forward, raising the ladder and then - he tosses it away? Patrick Bickle just throws the ladder to the side and rolls out of the ring. It looks like he has something else on his mind as he flips up the apron and looks under the ring. Patrick Bickle stands back up as Billy Kreynik begins getting his legs back under himself. Bickle holds his prize up for all to see - the sledgehammer! Bickle rolls back into the ring as Kryenik reaches the corner, using it to hold himself up. Patrick Bickle sizes up his opponent and runs in. No Triple H hammer-hand here, Bickle lifts the sledgehammer straight over his head and swings it down with all of his might at SBK's head! Kryenik - thank god! - falls out of the way before it can strike, stumbling towards the middle of the ring! Kryenik ducks as Bickle spins around and attempts to crush his head with a side-arm blow from the hammer! Kryenik cracks Bickle across the back with both hands, but Bickle doesn't drop his weapon. Patrick Bickle jerks his arms back and drives the handle of the sledgehammer deep into Kryenik's midsection, doubling SBK over. Billy Kryenik backs up, unable to stand straight after the blow, just keeping as much distance between himself and Bickle as possible for the moment. Patrick Bickle stalks Sick Billy like a hunter, the hammer held ever at ready. BILL HEWSON: This is sick! Patrick Bickle isn't trying to win the match, he is trying to end Billy Kryenik's career! Somebody has to get that hammer from him! JACK JONES: It isn't often that I agree with you, Hewson, but this is one of those times. What Patrick Bickle is trying to do right now is just over the line! Bickle raises the hammer and swings side-arm again, Billy Kryenik just managing to jump backwards as the crowd gasps. Kryenik is in the corner now and something flares in his eyes. Bickle raises the hammer to strike again and Billy Kryenik EXPLODES out of the corner, tackling Patrick Bickle to the mat. Bickle manages to get the hammer up and jab Kryenik in the side of the head with it as they crash to the canvas, but Kryenik is ON FIRE! The sledgehammer goes flying away, right over the top rope as SBK tears it from Patrick Bickle's hands. Sick Billy mauls Bickle with rights and lefts, slamming them right into Bickle's unprotected face! Bickle thrashes underneath him, but Kryenik uses his weight to his advantage, keeping the smaller man pinned flat as he rains down deadly fists! Bickle finally gets his hands up, grabbing two handfuls of Billy's hair and pulling him down - Patrick Bickle bites Billy Kryenik on the forehead! Kryenik roars in a combination of pain and anger, rearing to his feet with blood streaming down his forehead! Bickle is right back up, a large cut over his right eye adding to the blood pouring out of his now definitely broken nose. Right from Bickle! Answered by Kryenik! No attempt at defense from either man as they attempt to beat each other to death in the center of the ring! The crowd cheers with each big right fist from Kryenik, boos with the return blow from Patrick Bickle! Patrick Bickle is slowing down finally, each shot taking more and more out of him. Billy drops Bickle to his knees with a huge right hook, and Bickle answers right back with a LOW BLOW! JACK JONES: Poor Sanford and Sons! BILL HEWSON: What? JACK JONES: You know - Danny Tanner and the Olsen Twins? Patrick Bickle surges upwards, just charging the stunned Billy Kryenik back and then slamming him down on the fallen ladder! Bickle looks skyward and laughs maniacally, kicking Kryenik's body off of the ladder and lifting it up. Bickle opens the ladder and sets it down in the center of the ring, starting a slow climb towards the spool of barbed wire, his eyes glued to it like a vision from heaven. Bickle slowly moves up rung by rung, but behind him Billy Kryenik is starting his own upwards journey - to his feet. Kryenik gets up on wobbly legs and sees Patrick Bickle almost at the top of the ladder. Bickle reaches up for the spool, but can't quite make it yet. He begins to climb up one more rung when something snags his foot! Bickle looks down into the bloody face of Billy Kreynik as SBK jerks down on his foot, sending Patrick Bickle down several rungs, smashing his face into each one he passes. Bickle comes to a stop near the bottom of the ladder, hanging on by sheer force of will, and Kryenik goes to the other side. Billy Kryenik begins to climb the ladder as Patrick Bickle's hands scramble upwards once more. Billy is moving slowly, and Patrick Bickle is somehow right behind him! SBK reaches the top of the ladder first and reaches upwards to grab the spool - BAM! - left to the stomach from Patrick Bickle! The spool is hanging by just one wire now, within reach of either man! Bickle grabs SBK by the back of the head and rams his face into the top of the ladder. Much like a weeble, Billy wobbles but he does not fall down! Bickle, hands tangled in the hair of SBK, rams his face over and over again into the top of the ladder! SBK blocks! SBK gets his hands in the way and then fires them both into Bickle's chest. Bickle leans back precariously but manages to stay on his perch! Bickle grabs the top of the ladder with both hands and then shoots his feet between the rungs, kicking out of of Kryenik's legs! Billy grabs hold of the top before he can completely fall! Kreynik pulls himself back up - Patrick Bickle leaps over the top of the ladder with a sunset flip! POOOOWWWERBOM-NO! Bickle kicks his legs and pulls with all of his strength but he can't get Sick Billy over! Kryenik is hanging on with all of his strength as Bickle tries the powerbomb... Kreynik shoots both hands up and grabs the spool of barbed wire! The ladder tips over sideways, leaving Kryenik hanging from the spool, Bickle hanging from SBK's legs! The final wire, as was inevitable, snaps under the combined weight! Bickle and SBK crash to the mat, the spool of barbed wire coming down and slamming into Bickle's forehead right before impact! Kryenik lands with his chest right across the spool and flops away with blood running from a dozen new wounds! Bickle's face is unrecognizable behind the mass of cuts and the CRIMSON MASK! BILL HEWSON: Bickle! Kryenik! Both men are down, and I don't see how either one of them is going to get back up! JACK JONES: That is because you've never been in that ring, Hewson! You don't know what its like to have everything on the line like these guys do! You could hit these men with a train and they'd just keep on going! Hell, they'd probably derail the damn thing! Amidst chants of, "Holy (BLEEP)! Holy (BLEEP)!" the two bloodied and battered warriors do indeed begin to get back to their feet. Billy Kryenik has his hands resting on either side of the barbed wire as he pushes himself upright, and Patrick Bickle is using the ropes to that same purpose. Kryenik is upright first, eyes glazed over behind the dripping red. He sticks his arm down the center of the spool, lifting the whole thing up and staring across the ring at Patrick Bickle. SBK raises his arm in the air and charges as Bickle turns around - LARIOOOOTOOOOOOHMYGOD! Bickle is turned inside out from the barbed wire lariat! He crashes to the outside, he chest torn apart by the blow! Billy Kryenik lifts the spool over his head to a huge cheer before dropping it to the mat and climbing to the outside. SBK has something on his mind as he flips up the apron yet again. A blood-soaked grin stretches across his face at what he sees and he grabs something with both hands. Patrick Bickle rolls towards the ring post as "Sick" Billy Kryenik pulls out his find. The crowd explodes! "TABLE! TABLE! TABLE!" And not just that, as Billy demonstrates by lifting the table over his head - a table WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE! Kryenik slides the table into the ring and follows after it. He flips it over and opens up one set of legs! He opens the other! Bickle is crawling to his feet, leaving bloody handprints on the canvas as he struggles up onto the apron! Sick Billy grabs the table and struggles against a momentary bout of disorientation before he can muscle it back over and upright. Billy Kreynik leans over the table, steadying it - PATRICK BICKLE FLIES! From the apron, springboarding off the top rope! Bickle lands squarely on Billy's bent back, crashing both men through the table into the nest of barbed wire! Bickle - barbed wire sticking to his back, his legs, his arms, everywhere! - rolls Sick Billy over and makes the first pin of the match! Sharplin drops to make the count; One! Two! Three-NOOOO! Sick Billy gets his shoulder up at the last second, leaving a patch of skin behind on the wire it was stuck to! BILL HEWSON: Neither of these men is going to give up! We could be seeing the end of two careers here tonight, Jack Attack! JACK JONES: At this rate we could be seeing the end of two lives! Bickle lets out an animalistic roar of frustration and begins digging his arms deeper into the barbed wire! Kryenik tries to stand but Bickle is right behind him! Bickle has wrapped his arms in the remains of the table and barbed wire, and he drives one into Sick Billy's back! Again! Again! Patrick Bickle is a barbed-wire-covered-demon! Splinters of wood jab into Sick Billy's flesh right alongside the barbed wire as Bickle rains down blows on his back and head! Billy finally takes one stumbling step back and then collapses to his knees, a puddle of blood forming under him in seconds. Bickle staggers backwards as well, into the ropes which only drives the barbed wire deeper into his own skin! Patrick Bickle runs back and - FEAR THE SPEAR! Bickle leaves the canvas entirely to crash into Sick Billy - OLE! Billy Kryenik moves out of the way at the last second, raising in his place... the spool of barbed wire! Patrick Bickle spears himself right through the full spool of barbed wire! There is nowhere safe left on Bickle, so Billy Kryenik just throws himself on top of the Pure Honor champion, barbed wire and all, for the pin; One! Two! Thre-NO! NO! Patrick Bickle gets a shoulder up! Kryenik looks up at Sharplin with blazing eyes and even the seasoned senior official finds it prudent to take a step back while holding up two fingers. The Sick One scours the ring with his eyes, stopping on what is left of the table that isn't currently wrapped in the mess that is Patrick Bickle. BILL HEWSON: The medical staff is on ready for when this match either ends or neither man can continue! They're going to earn their paycheck tonight! JACK JONES: You want twenty minutes of bloody torture, you don't watch The Passion! You watch EPIC! Billy Kryenik grabs a jagged board still wrapped in a length of barbed wire and holds it up to the lights. Patrick Bickle - somehow - is getting back to his feet when Sick Billy comes back. The only part of Bickle's body not completely wrapped in barbed wire now is the head, and that is exactly Sick Billy's target! CRACK! The board explodes into splinter's against the side of Bickle's head, sending him right back down to the mat! Billy Kryenik stares down at Patrick Bickle and then shakes his head. This one isn't over yet. Kryenik turns and points to the fallen ladder to a huge ovation, staggering over towards it. As he does, Patrick Bickle stirs, rolling over to the side of the ring and then tumbling out to the floor. Billy Kryenik is moving slowly, closing the ladder and lifting it up with both hands. Bickle is half-crouched against the apron on the outside, trying to free one of his arms from the barbed-wire prison. Kreynik spots the top of Bickle's head and grins, staggering over to the ropes with the ladder raised as Bickle climbs back up onto the apron. Sick Billy raises the ladder high - Patrick Bickle swings the sledgehammer straight back over his head! BOOM! Sledgehammer meets ladder, ladder meets face! Sick Billy is down! Patrick Bickle seems to have gotten a second wind from that sound alone, and he clambers back into the ring to grab the ladder. Bickle's eyes again drift upwards and an almost serene smile comes to his face. Patrick Bickle brings the ladder to the corner and opens it there. Bickle to the apron, climbing up onto the turnbuckle. Billy Kryenik is still down from his face meeting ladder, and doesn't look like he's getting up any time soon. Patrick Bickle, still wrapped almost entirely in barbed wire, begins the slow ascent to the top of the ladder. BILL HEWSON: No! No, Patrick! Don't do this! JACK JONES: This kid is crazy! Somebody get in there and stop this! Mr. Maps agrees, leaping out of his seat and trying to get Patrick Bickle's attention, yelling from the floor at the young man. Bickle does not hear him, or anything else judging by the faraway look on his face. Patrick Bickle reaches the top of the ladder and stands tall, speading his arms like a blood-soaked angel. Patrick Bickle bends his legs and then leaps from the ladder, reaching the apex of his jump as if in slow motion. Then things speed up. FREEFALL! FREEFALL! Freefall from the TOP OF THE LADDER wrapped in BARBED WIRE! Bickle comes almost straight down on Sick Billy's chest! Neither man is moving, but Bickle is draped across the Sick One! Sharplin drops and makes the count, signaling for the medics at the same time. Mr. Maps is already in the ring as Sharplin counts; One! Two! THREE! Sharplin calls for the bell and then continues to wave his arms. The EMTs rush out from the back carting two stretchers, and Evan Cartwright is right beside them. FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match...Patrick Bickle! BILL HEWSON: This is serious, Jack. Neither of them has so much as moved a muscle since Patrick Bickle landed that sick Freefall. Mr. Maps, the EMTs, Evan Cartwright, John Sharplin, they all look very worried right now. JACK JONES: This is a moment we hate to see. We just have to sit and watch and pray that both of these men are going to be ok, despite what we see in that ring right now. Patrick Bickle is the winner, but at what cost? Mr. Maps and the EMTs, all wearing latex gloves, begin to carefully extricate the two men from the nest of bloody barbed wire. Backboards are brought into the ring and both men are carefully lifted onto them as the crowd watches in silence. Patrick Bickle and Billy Kryenik are placed on stretchers and slowly wheeled away from the ring. Just before they both disappear into the back - in a final show of defiance and super-human resilience - two bloody hands lift into the air at almost the same time, one from each stretcher. The crowd, already entirely on their feet, give the two combatants a roaring standing ovation. The scene changes to backstage, where Josh Reynolds is standing with NAPW newcomer Mark Cage! JOSH REYNOLDS: I'm standing with a man who scored a pinfall in his first match, and of course I'm speaking about Mark Cage. Mark, what are your thoughts on the NAPW so far? MARK CAGE: The NAPW is a place for me to make my mark. I know I've got to keep working on my things, tightening up my skills, and giving it all. My goal is nothing short of the NAPW Heavyweight Title, and I'll climb the ranks to get there... Interruption! RAVISHING RON BARKER: Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. There's a Pay-Per-View and Ron Barker isn't on it? There's a Pay-Per-View and some chump kid who couldn't hack it in the NHL gets mic time but Ron Baker doesn't? What kind of operation is this? JOSH REYNOLDS: Well, if you'd beaten Ravager last week you'd be wrestling El Mentiroso tonight, but --- RAVISHING RON BARKER: Hey, did I say you could talk? Ravager was a fluke, plain and simple. He and his little revolution can take a flying leap, and as for you, kid? Take a hike, it's time to spike the buyrate. Mark Cage plants his feet, a resolution expression on his face. Barker sneers. RAVISHING RON BARKER: What are you, new? I said get lost --- MARK CAGE: I heard you, but I was thinking. One of us won their first match in NAPW. And the other didn't. One of us is ranked for a title, and the other isn't. So... you can have the mic. I think I'll just let my actions speak louder than... your words. I'm out, Reynolds. Cage walks off, leaving Ravishing Ron Barker... FUMING. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is a four-corner, survival match, and is scheduled for one-fall! "You're the best! Around! Nothin's ever gonna keep you---DOWNNNN!" FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing second... he hails from Lloydminster, ALBERTA... the "Bad Boy!" JOEY---MALONE! BILL HEWSON: Now Jack, in this match, we're going to see Lloyd Rees and Joey Malone as two of the opponents---Rees with far more rest and experience than Joey, as Joey's had himself a busy week. JACK JONES: Running Rex's bar, wrestling monkeys, training fat Mexican wrestlers, and "pinning" El Mentrioso... we could be witnessing Joey Malone finally making his mark on NAPW. Maybe not, though. Joey Malone comes out on the MALONEMOPED and buzzes down to ringside. He puts the kickstand up, slides in the ring, thankfully sans-monkeys, and bounces off the ropes, trying to get some synchronized hand-claps going in the crowd to no avail. "FIGHT THE POWER!" brings out Mr. Slick next, looking mighty intimidating, power-walking out to the ring. People, this is a man who throws milk at grocery store employees! He will mess you up! Mr. Slick climbs through the ropes and rips off his shirt as we hear Frank Warburton's booming intro. FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing next... he hails from Miami, Florida, and is known to wield brass knucks... the master of the Hard DDT, he is, MR---SLICK! Mr. Slick gives an obligatory roar to the crowd, and they respond back with boos. That doesn't last long, however, as "We Believe" by Fort Minor kicks up and the crowd greets THE CRUSHER with a big pop! The Crusher POWERS out of the backstage area, pumping up his tendons and deltoids and Freuds. As the Crusher slides in the ring, he looks about ready to tear into these heels all at once! FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing next from Riverside, California... THHHHHHE CRUSHHHHHHERRRR! BILL HEWSON: And this crowd loves The Crusher! Good to see him back in NAPW rings, but how about last Monday Night? JACK JONES: You mean Lloyd Rees with his steel plate? Crusher never knew what hit him! And it'll be more of the same here tonight! With all three opponents in the ring "Fighting 59" by Harry Hibbs hits the speakers. "The Lemondrop Kid" Lloyd Rees comes out from behind the curtain led by Ol'Salty. Ol'Salty is carrying the old green, white, and pink flag of the Republic of Newfoundland and Lloyd has a microphone. As the crowd boos loudly and paper flies, Lloyd begins to speak. "THE LEMONDROP KID" LLOYD REES: Here we are folks! Da NAPW's very first Pay-Per-View and it's featurin' da top talent in da league, me! Two time NAPW Provincial Champion, da "East Coast Sensation", da "Lemondrop Kid", and da leader of a movement d'hat is sweep'n da nation. Even though I have been put in dis match with d'ese three idiots, I assure ye d'hat dis will be da best match on da card all due t'me presence. Booing even louder now, the crowd seems to really be getting after Rees. Lloyd raises his voice to compete with the volume of the crowd. "THE LEMONDROP KID" LLOYD REES: Now, after talk'n t'a unnamed source from NAPW upper management, I have discovered d'hat me allegations were true! Da NAPW is try'n t'hold down da "Lemondrop Kid" and d'hat is why dis match has come t'be in da first place. Upper management thought d'hat put'n me in dis match with d'ese three clowns would be a good way t'make sure IÕm on da shelf fer a while... D'hat's right Crusher! Yer were just a tool da NAPW used t'execute yet another attempt t'take me out, but just like d'heir first attempt, a First Blood Match against Krusty Kid Paul, it failed and t'night it's go'n t'be no different when I walk out of Epic with me arms raised high... Lloyd throws the microphone to the floor, pulls off his "Free NFLD." t-shirt, and hits the ring. And it's The Crusher going right after Lloyd Rees with a clothesline! Mr. Slick rushes after the Crusher next and catches a clothesline for his trouble as well. Joey Malone's caught thinking about it, finally deciding to charge at a waiting Crusher, who picks him up and tosses him over the ropes with a gorilla press slam! Big pops there. Ding! We have an official match, and Crusher/Rees will start it off. BILL HEWSON: Four Corner Survival here, Jack, that means that we'll see two men at a time, tag rules, first-fall to a finish. JACK JONES: We're also seeing four men with very different styles, which should be interesting. Crusher's a power wrestler, Mr. Slick's a brawler, Rees can do it all, and Joey, well... he's gonna try hard, I can guarantee that much. BILL HEWSON: He'll probably have a bit more inspiration than usual, thanks to his sweet new tunes... Crusher going right back after Lloyd Rees, but Rees wants no part of Crusher! Indeed, Crusher's pounding away with stiff forearms to Rees' shoulders, but Rees has one thing in mind: escape. Rees manages to scoot away and tag in Mr. Slick, who gets in quickly in order to match Crusher punch-for-punch. Lefts and rights being exchanged in the center of the ring, Crusher tries for a bigfat clothesline and just gets air as Slick ducks. Backdrop from Slick SHAKES the ring as the two big men fall to the canvas. Mr. Slick looks at the crowd ALL ANGRY and goes to the second rope, looking for an elbow drop. He's a second from dropping the 'bow and turning Crusher's world upside down when... Joey Malone tags himself in? BILL HEWSON: Joey Malone's kinda taken to Mr. Slick in the past few weeks, but I don't think that Slick is very open to the help! Indeed, Slick's not looking too thrilled as Joey climbs inside of the ring, motioning to Slick, "It's alright, let me take care of him." Slick looks pretty damn annoyed, but hey. "You want to kill or be crushed? Go ahead..." Anyway, Joey's in the ring as Crusher's just getting up, and Joey's laying the boots to him. Crusher's pretty much no-selling, rising to the ropes. Joey takes Crusher's arm and irish whips him, going for a clothesline on the return. Crusher ducks, and Joey attempts a knee-lift on the second return. Bad idea. Crusher stops short, and puts his left arm above Joey's lifted leg, clasping his right behind Joey's neck. Capture suplex from the Crusher leaves Joey wishing that he was manning the Sports Club right about now. Crusher shouts to the crowd about "KILL OR BE CRUSHED!" to a big pop, and lifts up the "Bad Boy" for some more PAIN! Suplex position, center of the ring---SNAP! Vicious snap suplex draws a groan from Malone as Crusher holds the position. Picks him up again, another snap suplex! Joey's grabbing his lower back at this point, crying out in pain, and is reaching out blindly for a tag to someone, ANYONE! Joey flops into Rees' corner, going for a spectacular diving tag... and Rees won't tag in! He's lookin' INCONSPICUOUS! Joey's lookin' EXASPERATED! Bill Hewson's lookin' for a DICTIONARY! BILL HEWSON: And it looks like Lloyd Rees wants no part of the Crusher in this match, he'd rather see Joey Malone get demolished! JACK JONES: I guess all that talk this past week about Rees being so far above level of his three opponents was just HOO-HOCKY! Who'dathunkit? Crusher looks like he's trying to stifle a grin as he shouts to Rees, "C'MON, SUCKER, BRING IT! KILL OR BE CRUSHED, RAWR!" With Ol' Salty consoling him, patting him on the back, Rees looks content to stay on the outside as Crusher looks content to beat down the Bad Boy some more. As referee Henry Andrews reaches out to inform Rees that he'll have to get in sooner or later, Crusher sizes up a woozy Bad Boy. Right into his waiting arms comes Malone, Samoan drop on the way! But alas, Bad Boy slips out. Nice reversal there leads into a low blow from Joey Malone! Big jeers there from the crowd, as Andrews turns around just in time to see Joey dancing around, so proud of himself. "Yeah, Mr. Slick, baby, WHOOO! We're taking this one!" Mr. Slick's looking more and more annoyed with Joey as this continues. Joey bounces off the ropes, behind Crusher, and delivers a pretty dropkick to the back of Crusher's head, sending him flying into a now at-attention Lloyd Rees! Rees makes the tag, climbs in the ring, and goes after Malone in a big hurry, to massive boos. When Crusher realizes what he's accidentally done, he goes after Rees again, but is restrained by Henry Andrews. Ol' Salty's cheering and Lloyd Rees is smirking as he catches Malone off-guard with a DDT from the Green, taking advantage of him rising from that dropkick. Lloyd laying the boots now, working Joey Malone into the corner. Irish whip into the opposite corner follows with an academic clothesline and knee lift, Rees does it again but Malone desperately dives over and tags in Mr. Slick. Slick with an annoyed glance at Malone for a second, but hey, he wants in some action too, y'know. Slick blocks a punch from Rees, then reverses a German suplex attempt into a HARD DDT OUTTA NOWHERE! Cover, one, two, Crusher breaks it up? Slick's pissed, but Crusher gives him a smirk and climbs out of the ring. BILL HEWSON: I don't think that Crusher is going to let this match end without getting himself a piece of the "Lemondrop Kid!" Hey-- And REES, ever the oppurtunist, uses the Crusher/Slick staredown as an oppurtunity to tag in the Crusher! Rees slides out of the ring before Crusher can do anything about it, drawing a frustrated chuckle from the big man. Crusher takes a second before he gets in, and when he does, he's taking his fury out on Mr. Slick. Slick's matching him punch-for-punch again, however, and soon gets the better of him. Crusher finds himself in a corner, getting boots to the abdomen from the brawler Slick. JACK JONES: Y'know something, Slick might not want Joey Malone's help, and hey, it's understandable, it's Joey. But Crusher's the biggest man in this match, he's got the crowd behind him, and he's looking strong so far... it may be advantageous for those two to team up against him. Slick with european uppercuts, clotheslines, and kicks to the gut on Crusher, trying to wear down the big guy. It's working. After a few seconds, Slick lifts up the Crusher on to the top rope, seeming to be sizing him up for a superplex. More punches to the face as Crusher sits on his perch, Slick puts him in position... and is tagged out again by Joey Malone? Slick lets the position go long enough to scream at Joey, but Joey talks him down by signaling for a stacker suplex. Slick reluctantly agrees, and lets the Bad Boy on his shoulders to go for the suplex. Just before the stacker suplex is set to go off, however, Lloyd Rees tags himself in for the Crusher! Now Slick and Joey are BOTH looking pissed, but Rees shrugs them off and signals to let himself get on top of Joey's shoulders. Joey and Slick both reluctantly oblige and let Rees on top, SHAKING the ring once more with a big, fat, three-tier stacker suplex onto the Crusher! JACK JONES: I hate to admit it, but that was brilliant strategy from Lloyd Rees! Not only did those three inflict serious damage on the strongest man in this match, Rees is facing a very tired legal man in Joey Malone! He needs to go for the kill! As Slick and Crusher both crawl out of the ring, Rees is all-too-pleased with himself, laying cocky boots to Joey Malone. "YA! *kick* CANADIAN *kick* OPPRESSORS! *kick* WILL-GET-YER-JUST-DESSERTS! *kickickickick* Rees picks up the Bad Boy and fells him right back again with the East End Drop, middle of the ring. Rees is feeling it now, he's thinking the same thing that Jack Jones was saying. Rees gets up on the top rope, the only man still standing in this match! FRESH-WATER-FLIP! Cover only gets two, Joey Malone's showing some impressive resiliancy. Rees shrugs, like "What else do I have to do?" Except in Newfie-speak. Rees bounds up to the opposite turnbuckle and climbs on the top rope. "Let's do it again, huh?!" How about, uh, let's NOT. CRUSHER tags himself in in violent fashion, crotching Rees on the turnbuckle to a big pop! Crusher with a second wind now, he's got Rees in suplex position now! JACK JONES: No escape now, Rees! BILL HEWSON: Holy hell, Jackhammer off the top! Huge pop from the crowd, but Henry Andrews isn't gonna let this match degenerate, shooing Rees from the ring and making sure he stays there. Joey's looking rested now, shooting Mr. Slick a glance. When Crusher rises, he gets up a full head of steam and charges at the Bad Boy, clothesline attempt misses. Crusher off the ropes, Ol' Salty trips him up! As Crusher turns around to jawjack with Ol' Salty, Joey Malone turns Crusher around! BAD BLASTER! BILL HEWSON: Henry Andrews was too preoccupied with Lloyd Rees to notice Ol' Salty tripping Crusher up, and now the big man is in a bad way. JACK JONES: Yeah, and at the hands of Joey Malone! Injury, meet insult! Bad Boy isn't going for a cover, though, instead, he's looking at Mr. Slick... he's gonna tag him in? The Crusher is down, he's ripe, this match is one fall to a finish, it could be over! Regardless, Joey tags in Mr. Slick. "It's for you, baby! You deserve the win, pin him!" Mr. Slick, for once, isn't looking annoyed, rather, pleased. Dare we say, thankful. Mr. Slick reaches out to give Joey Malone a hug, and he happily obliges. JACK JONES: Mr. Slick may not have wanted Joey's help, but hell, he'll take a free victory! Joey's jumping up and down in Mr. Slick arms, happy as could be... uh oh. Grip tightens. Joey's eyes widen. HARD DDT turns the Bad Boy into pancake batter! "Yeah boyee, that's how Mr. Slick rolls! You know it, dawg! C'mon!" The crowd is furious, as Joey slinks out of the ring and Mr. Slick continues jawing. Eventually he turns around... and sees one pissed-off Crusher staring back at him. Slick's confident, though, maybe a little too confident, rushes at Crusher. Crusher easily ducks a clothesline, sending Slick into the ropes. Lloyd Rees' hand taps Slick's foot as he bounces off, unbeknownst to just about everyone. Crusher falls to his stomach as Slick jumps over again, off the ropes. They both run into the ropes, CRUSHER with a vicious spear to Slick! Damn near decapitated him with that one! Slick rolls to the outside! Crusher up in a flash, ready to scream and shout to the WORLD about how you either "KILL--or be CRU--" Lloyd Rees from behind, he locks on the Conception Bay Chinlock! Never saw it comin'! Crusher's fighting valiantly, but cannot succeed in breaking the hold or getting to the ropes. He taps, and the bell sounds. FRANK WARBURTON: Your winner, by submission... the "LEMONDROP KID!" LLOYD---REES! Ol' Salty rushes Lloyd Rees out of the ring, the two celebrating what some could see as a tainted victory. The Crusher is down for a minute or so, but eventually begins to rise. He's down, but he's not out for good. The crowd is cheering for him... but the cheers quickly turn to gasps of anticipation as Mr. Slick's puttin' on the knucks behind him. Uh oh. WHAM! Crusher goes up, Crusher goes down. Big boos from the crowd, Slick's pretty furious right now. BILL HEWSON: And as if Rees hadn't already deflated this crowd, stealing a victory, we get Mr. Slick, a sore loser, taking his frustrations out on the Crusher. Mr. Slick leaves in the ring in quiet frustration and begins up the ramp. As he's halfway gone, a stirred Joey Malone bounds up after him, profusely apologizing for getting in the way of that Hard DDT, which was obviously meant for the Crusher. Or something. And now, the scene changes to a video package set to The Beatle's "Revolution" highlighting Ravager! El Mentiroso! The Revolution! And Pure Honor! The package runs, and then back to the always-missing-his-cues Jones... JACK JONES: ...and that, my friends, is why Cher will never go on a blind date ever again. BILL HEWSON: I feel like I've lost brain cells just listening to you, Attack Jack. JACK JONES: You're just jealous because I know who kidnapped the Lindbergh baby and you don't. BILL HEWSON (sarcasm): Yes, how can I possibly go on now? JACK JONES (singing in Cher voice): If I could turnnnnn baaaaack tiiiiiiiiime! Jack Attack's terrible acapella is thankfully replaced by "Path" from Apocalyptica. The crowd pops respectfully as the former NAPW Champion turned Kiniski Cup hopeful and the lovely Tiffany McIntyre make their way to the ring. Ravager, in black, is all business, eyes focused and intent. Tiffany is wearing a sequined evening gown for this special occasion, just showing off enough leg and cleavage to be considered tasteful without being too racy. Ravager holds the ropes open for her like a gentleman and pulls on the ropes in anticipation of his opponent. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is a Pure Honor rules match and is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring, accompanied by his manager, Tiffany McIntyre. From the state, county, and city of New York, but the borough of Brooklyn, weighing in at Two Hundred and Ten pounds.... this isssss RRRRRRRAAVAGERRRRRRR! "Mexicanos, Al Grito de Guerra" blares over the PA and the crowd pops bigtime for the former Pure Honor Champion and his stunningly beautiful translator. Senora Suerte is wearing a festive red, green, and white dress, being careful not to show much skin at all. Her modest look is a sneer in the direction of Tiffany, who is more apt to flaunt her wares just a bit. El Mentiroso wears tights with the eagle and snake symbol of the Mexican flag on the seat of his tights. His mask is red and green in a checkerboard pattern that works for him. He is all smiles as he slaps hands with several outstretched hands. JACK JONES: This guy should run for office back in his dusty little pueblo. The people seem to buy his whole schtick. BILL HEWSON: Because he's a genuine man of character, honor, and respect. El Mentiroso is of a rare and dying breed these days, and he is without a doubt the face of NAPW's Pure Honor division. JACK JONES: Not anymore, thanks to Mr. Bickle. BILL HEWSON: Please, don't remind me. FRANK WARBURTON: Approaching the ring, accompanied to the ring by his manager and translator, Senora Suerte... from Ciudad de Mexico, Districto Federal; weighing in at Two-Hundred and Twenty pounds... ELLLLLLLLLLL MENTIROOOOOOOSOOOOOO! Mentiroso finally removes himself from the sea of hands seeking to touch him and gives a nod of respect to Ravager before rolling into the ring and standing face-to-face with him. Ravager nods in return and both men waste no time in firmly grasping one another's hand and shaking like they mean it. Outside the ring, Senora Suerte is clapping and sending her voice over the ropes and inside the ring to offer words of encouragement and advice. Tiffany, hands on her hips, gives the lovely Senora Suerte a dirty look from her corner as if to say "What's so special about that country girl?" JACK JONES: Oh boy! I smell a catfight! BILL HEWSON: Dream on, Jack. These are classy ladies here. JACK JONES: That just makes it even more enticing. Good girls gone bad. Hehehehe. BILL HEWSON: You sicken me. Henry Andrews is our resident zebra and he seems to have gained some confidence to go along with his limited experience. He gives the signal after making sure both men understand the rules, and the bell goes DING! Ravager and El Mentiroso lock up with a collar and elbow tie and jockey for position. Mentiroso powers the smaller man to the ropes and immediately breaks the tie up, without having to be told. Ravager capitalizes by kicking his man in the bread basket and setting up for a slow twisting neckbreaker. At the apex, Mentiroso blocks and drops to his knees. He wraps his arms under Ravager's and falls forward into a crucifix pin. Ravager is stunned by this early pin and kicks out at two. Mentiroso sizes his man up and unleashes with a running enziguri, but misses his mark as Ravager ducks and rolls away just in time. Ravager is up and hits the ropes, only to have Mentiroso fall flat on his stomach in hopes of tripping the revolutionary. Ravager charges over him and hits the opposite ropes. Mentiroso is up and leapfrogs over his man while Ravager just goes with the momentum and hits the ropes yet again. Bad idea this time, as Mentiroso lays on his back and uses his legs to monkey flip Ravager across the ring. Mentiroso follows this up with a pinpoint accurate dropkick that smashes Ravager in the mouth. Mentiroso covers, but Ravager kicks out at two. BILL HEWSON: El Mentiroso showing us just why he should get a rematch with Bickle. JACK JONES: If Casino didn't get a rematch, then why should this schlub get one, eh? Let him work his way back up like everyone else... and wait a minute, who the hell is that? BILL HEWSON: Is that...that looks like...THUNDER! Of STORM! JACK JONES: Well, it's Thunder. If he became the living embodient of the GAP. What in the world? Indeed, Thunder... now with short blonde hair, wearing khakis and a bright blue polo shirt, has brought a chair halfway down the aisle and he's now sitting in it, watching the Pure Honor match with complete attention. Mentiroso grabs Ravager's arms and pulls back into a surboard stretch, digging his knee into the back. Ravager is in pain and lets us know it with his bellowing, but somehow, he still has enough adrenaline going to forcefully break the hold and nail Mentiroso with a European Uppercut followed by a DDT. Ravager into the cover, and Mentiroso kicks out at two. Ravager lays in with some stiff forearm shots before hoisting his man for a vertical suplex and connecting. Ravager covers again, but no dice, as Mentiroso kicks out at two. Ravager puts Mentiroso's arm into the wringer before stepping over and dropping his leg across his opponent's bicep. Mentiroso cries out as Ravager repeats the move and digs his knee into the shoulder area afterward. Ravager smells blood and goes for the crossface, sucessfully latching on with it. Mentiroso gives a hearty Mexican grita as Senora Suerte slaps the mat with a steady beat. On the other side, Tiffany cheers inbetween strutting her stuff. Mentiroso can't find an escape, so he does the only thing that he can at this point. After some effort, his free hand grabs the nearest rope and Ravager breaks without an argument. Thunder applauds respectfully. FRANK WARBURTON: El Mentiroso has just utilized his first rope break! Ravager pounds on his man with some more forearm shivers before pulling an old school Arn Anderson by bodyslamming Mentiroso with his tender arm bent behind his back. Mentiroso is hurting and we can see his mouth open in a silent scream. Senora Suerte holds her hands over her mouth and looks very concerned. Ravager drags Mentiroso by the same arm back into the center of the ring and drops an elbow on his bicep. This is soon followed by a cross-arm breaker of the Takada variety. Mentiroso grits his teeth and tries to will the pain out of his mind. JACK JONES: What technical precision and skill by Ravager! Too bad he plays for the sissy side now. He could have been so cool if he were like the guys in Charitable Trust. BILL HEWSON: Never count out the tremendous heart of El Mentiroso. I say he is NAPW's answer to Ricky Steamboat. Ravager has never looked more focused. While he maintains respect for El Mentiroso, he has little room left for pity. His eyes reveal that, in the ring, every opponent is to be worked over in the same fashion. El Mentiroso finds himself pulling for the ropes with his feet. Suddenly, he stops and waves his left hand index finger back and forth saying "no, no," and instead resigns to accept the pain. Senora Suerte looks horrified. Even Tiffany wonders about the wisdom of this move. JACK JONES: Is he on crack? He has two rope breaks left to use. BILL HEWSON: Perhaps he's trying to make a point here. JACK JONES: Yeah, his point: Break my arm, please, Mr. Ravager. Ravager can't seem to believe it either as Mentiroso's eyes roll back in his head and he seems to be blocking the pain from affecting him. His right knee jerks to life and his kick manages to graze Ravager on the nose. This is enough to cause a hold break and Ravager checks to see if he's bleeding. El Mentiroso rolls out of the ring, favoring his right arm, and Senora Suerte runs over to give him moral support without interfering. Andrews begins the twenty count and Ravager crouches in waiting while Mentiroso catches his breath. After a count of twelve, the former Kiniski Cup holder rolls back in and has Ravager's charge scouted. A drop toe hold guillotines Ravager along the bottom rope as Mentiroso climbs to the top and points a finger to the sky before dropping his leg across Ravager's head. Ravager rolls around coughing and holding onto his neck, his face turning beet red. Mentiroso takes another quick breather before shaking his right arm out to get some feeling back into it. He helps loosen things up by lifting Ravager, whipping him into the corner, and unleashing with knife-edged chops that send a resounding sound of flesh on flesh throughout the Polish Hall. The crowd gives a hearty "WOOOOOO" at the appropriate times. JACK JONES: Is Old Man Flair here? BILL HEWSON: He'd better not be, because security is cleared to take him down and out. Same with all of those other shady characters. JACK JONES: Since when is Bob Barker shady? The man puts the ass in class. BILL HEWSON: Didn't I tell you about your meds last time? Twice a day, Jack. JACK JONES: You ain't my mama! Ravager is chopped back into reality. He switches on Mentiroso and lets loose with a few retaliation chops of his own (WOOOOO!) before whipping his man to the opposite corner. Mentiroso stops before hitting and uses the ropes to jump up, catching an incoming Ravager around the neck with his feet. Mentiroso spins and unleashes with the corkscrew headscissors that sends Ravager tumbling to the outside. Mentiroso wisely confers with Senora Suerte while Tiffany tries to help Ravager up. He shrugs her off and Andrews warns her about interference. She pouts and stomps away as Ravager rolls back in and charges. Big mistake, as El Mentiroso plays him with the Jugador. Mentirsoso into the cover, but Ravager kicks out at two. El Mentiroso applies the full nelson, rolls forward, and applies the leg scissors to the body, holding Ravager hostage near the corner. Ravager can't stand this for long and uses his free leg to make contact with the ropes. FRANK WARBURTON: Ravager has just utilized his first rope break! El Mentiroso breaks the hold fast and runs backwards before stopping. Ravager is caught off guard and it's too late. Air Mentiroso makes contact with the dreaded Running Enziguri, and Ravager checks out for the night, falling forward in an almost comical fashion. Mentiroso covers, but Ravager kicks out at two and a half. Senora Suerte slaps the mat as Mentiroso climbs to the top and goes for the big moonsault. He lets fly, but Ravager lifts his knees up in time and Mentiroso is now favoring his ribs and midsection. Ravager capitalizes with a Dragon Suplex, followed by a cover. Mentiroso kicks out at two and Ravager applies a rear naked choke. Andrews is fooled for a few moments until he sees Ravager is sneaking in an illegal move. Andrews breaks the hold forcefully and warns Ravager very sternly. Ravager blows him off with a wave of his hand and Andrews shows he's no pushover anymore. The signal to Warburton and... FRANK WARBURTON: Ravager has just forfeited his second rope break due to unsportsmanlike conduct. JACK JONES: That little twerp can't do that. BILL HEWSON: He just did. Ravager is mad and lets Andrews know it. Henry looks like he bit off more than he could chew, but is saved when El Mentiroso catches Ravager in a schoolboy. Only two and a half as Ravager powers out. A kick to the gut leads to a headlock and a sprinting dance up to the second rope and... Tornado DDT by El Mentiroso. Ravager looks dazed now, but somehow, he has enough to kick out in time after another cover by El Mentiroso. The Mexican Sensation bodyslams his man in the center of the ring and climbs to the top. BILL HEWSON: Could he be going for El Mentria Grande? JACK JONES: What does that mean anyway? I don't know all that Spanish stuff. BILL HEWSON: Well then, look it up. JACK JONES: You just say that because you don't know either, stupid Bill. BILL HEWSON: Just do your job. El Mentiroso wants to end this and sommersaults for the legdrop to end it all. Ravager rolls away in time and the legs and ass meet canvas. The crowd groans as El Mentiroso looks to be in pain after that. Ravager is tired but aware, as he catches his man with a Northern Lights Suplex with the bridge. Mentiroso nails Ravager in the gut and breaks the pin attempt. Ravager lays in with some stiff punt kicks to the ribs and stomps to the back before hositing his man up for Business is Business. The Muscle Buster connects, and Ravager covers. Amazingly, Mentiroso kicks out just in time. Ravager wants to set up for Instant Karma, but Mentiroso nails him with a European Uppercut follows that with an armdrag. Mentiroso whips his man into the ropes and lowers his head too soon. Ravager kicks him in the face and follows that with a vicious clothesline. Ravager signals for the end, making the cutthroat motion with his thumb. He readies for the crossface submission once again, but El Mentiroso has it scouted. El Mentiroso with the Majistral Cradle pinning combination, and Ravager never saw it coming. His shoulders are down for the ONE... TWO... THREE! FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of this match... ELLLLLLL MENTIROOOOOOOSOOOOO! JACK JONES: NOT AGAIN! They assured me Ravager was a lock. BILL HEWSON: In the hole again, are we? JACK JONES: Me, never! I got a line from Uncle Jerry at the racetrack, I'll make all of my money back before you can say welfare. This is only a minor setback. El Mentiroso squeaks out the win in a hard fought contest of stubborn wills. Ravager is disappointed, but accepts this and offers his hand out. El Mentiroso is only too happy to shake it and raise it up for the crowd. Ravager appreciates the sentiment, but lowers his arm and shares some words with El Mentiroso and Senora Suerte before rolling out of the ring. Tiffany offers him a towel and they make their way to the back while inside the ring, Senora Suerte is happily hugging her charge. On the rampway, Ravager passes a beaming Thunder, who offers his hand? Thunder shakes Ravager's hand enthusiastically, to the bemusement of an exhausted Ravager. BILL HEWSON: Well...Thunder is back, I suppose. And a big win tonight for the former Pure Honor champion, El Mentiroso! That should put him up in the rankings...although I don't know if Patrick Bickle will be in any condition to defend the Kiniski Cup after his brutal match with Kryenik earlier tonight. JACK JONES: All that I know, is that "Ravishing" Ron Barker should've been in this match, and that would've meant that Ron Barker vs Patrick Bickle would be next, but noooo... BILL HEWSON: ...Disappointing loss for Ravager, big win for El Mentiroso, and a great match. Now, our next match has been building for a long time. It will be Delivery Man #100, the former Stein, taking on NAPW's own SUPERSTAR...Tommy Deathrow. Let's see how it came to this! Video package! Highlighting Stein becoming a Delivery Man... old Doomriders vs Delivery Men footage... the SAD beating down the Delivery Men... Stein making the save... Deathrow hurting #2 in front of a helpless Stein... the drama at the Delivery Depot. Deathrow: "OBLITERATE." And it all comes down... To this. FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is schedualed for one fall. And it is the "Superstar Rules" match! JACK JONES: Well, this should be a mat classic... BILL HEWSON: Will you stop! "Man In the Box" plays. "Superstar" Tommy Deathrow emerges from the curtains, pushing a shopping cart full of plunder. He makes his way to ringside, cursing at the fans who heckle him. FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, coming down the aisle... From St. Paul, Minnesota... The sexiest Man in the NAPW! "SUPERSTAR" TOMMMMMY DEATHROWWWWW! The hatred for Deathrow is intense. The crowd is not behind him. But then"Science" hits the airwaves. And the fans go wild as Delivery Man # 100 emerges from the curtains, with about three large travel bags with him. FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! Formerly from Parts Unknown, now hailing from the DELIVERY DEPOT... He is Delivery Man #100... THIS! IS! STEINNNN! Stein makes his way to the announce table. He stops in front of Hewson and Jones. He opens up the first bag, and hands helmets to the announcers. JACK JONES: Is that a good sign? BILL HEWSON: Just be ready to move in a hurry Jack. Stein, however, is not in a hurry. He makes his way into the ring. Deathrow, on the other hand, doesn't want this to take to long. He jumps his opponent before he's even through the ropes. Morgan Smyth calls for the bell, and the match is on. Deathrow lays in a series of vicious chops to the chest of Stein. The crowd chants "Woo". But Stein doesn't seem all that bothered by it. Chop. "Woo"! Chop. "Woo". Stein responds by grabbing Deathrow by the throat and tossing him over the ropes. BILL HEWSON: Tommy Deathrow doesn't seem to be haiving much luck with his strikes. JACK JONES: It's like fighting a zombie! Don't go for the chest! Destroy the brain! Deathrow climbs back into the ring, and goes for a lariat. Stein side steps, Deathrow hits the ropes and comes back with a cross body block. Stein easily catches his opponent, throws him on his shoulders, and goes for a Samoan drop.. no wait, Deathrow with a crucifix pin! One... Only one as Stein kicks out. Deathrow takes the chance to jab a thumb in Stein's eye, then nail a DDT. Stein immediately sits up. Deathrow hits another DDT. Stein sits up. A third DDT. Stein sits up... then flops back down. Pin! One: Kickout with authority! Deathrow tossed through the ropes to the floor. JACK JONES: Did Stein just grin? BILL HEWSON: Huh. Didn't expect to see mind games in this match. Stein goes after Deathrow on the floor, methodically stalking his opponent. Deathrow is digging through his shopping cart, and pulls out a fire extinguisher. He blasts Stein with it! First a dousing of spray, then he clocks him upside the head! Stein is down! Deathrow lays in a series of elbows! Deathrow raises his hands in triumph! And then Stein sits up. Again. JACK JONES: This is unreal! Stein gets to his feet, only to be hit with a Deathrow clothesline. But it's not enough to take Stein down. He tries again. And again, Stein doesn't budge. Frustrated, Deathrow rears back to kick Stein in the groin... but Stein catches the leg, sweeps the other leg and goes for... The Vitiator?!! Deathrow tries to fight Stein off, but all of the sudden Stein stops on his own. BILL HEWSON: Stein stopping himself from using the Vitiator. Instead he's going into his bag of tricks... You've got to be kidding me! Stein has pulled out... a bottle of catsup. Which he nails Deathrow with. JACK JONES: Um, should somebody tell Stein that a glass bottle would have worked better? BILL HEWSON: Why? Considering how strong Stein is, a pillow shot from him would be enough to take a man down. Indeed, Deathrow reels a bit. He turns, and flops face first into his cart. Stein slowly pursues, only for Deathrow to crack a beer bottle over Stein's head! And that seems to have had an effect, as Stein staggers. Deathrow, sensing weakness, pounces, whacking Stein with the bottle, until the bottle breaks. Stein is bleeding now. JACK JONES: See that! If it bleeds, you can kill it! BILL HEWSON: Damn it, "He"! Not "It"! JACK JONES: Whatever! Deathrow has him now! Deathrow kicks his stunned opponent in the gut, then hefts the big man up for a Dominator on the floor. He drags Stein to his feet, then rolls him into the ring. Deathrow has grabbed a chair, and starts laying in shots to his downed opponent. The sick whacks across the back echo throughout the arena. After the fourth chair shot, Deathrow goes for a pin. One! Two... STEIN KICKS OUT! JACK JONES: HOW THE (BLEEP) DID HE DO THAT? BILL HEWSON: Can you say that on Pay Per View? Deathrow is getting angry now. He realizes he'll need something nastier to end this fight. He goes to his cart, but then he gets a better idea. He's looking under the ring. ... And pulls out... a goalie stick? BILL HEWSON: Wait a minute, what's he got attached to... Oh no. A goalie stick. With light bulbs glued to the blade. And and a light tube glued to the shaft. Deathrow takes a few practice swings as he waits for Stein to get to his feet. And then he swings, Glass and splinters explode across Stein's back. Then Deathrow cross checks Stein across the neck, breaking the stick in half. Not relenting, he spears Stein in the kidney with the blunt end, and once the stick is completely destroyed, he sets Stein up for the Deathrow driver! BILL HEWSON: If he hits this, it's over! If being the operative word. Stein drops to one knee. Deathrow lets go, but he hits the ropes and comes back with a shining wizard, taking Stein down. Cover! One... Two... Thr- NO! Stein barely gets his shoulder up. And whether or not he reacts to the pain, it's clear that the toll of Deathrow's relentless attack has broken him down. Stein slow to get up, and now Deathrow grabs him...irish whip! Wait a minute! Stein reverses, VITIATOR... No! Stein's fighting it... instead goozles Deathrow! and a ONE-HANDED CHOKETOSS sends Tommy Deathrow half-way across the ring! Deathrow pops up, shocked at the strength in the slight Stein, and charges with a clothesline...caught by another goozle! CHOKESLAM! Stein covers! ONE! TWO! Deathrow kicks out with authority! Stein now beginnning to gain momentum, as he hoists Deathrow up... TONGAN DEATH GRIP! And Tommy is in some serious pain here as Stein squeezes the Nerve Hold. Deathrow could submit right here... WHAM! Deathrow gouges Stein in the eyes. That's enough to break the hold, and Deathrow grabs the nearest weapon --- which is the shopping cart itself. Deathrow charges it at Stein! CRASH into the corner! Deathrow gets a run? DROPKICK to the cart, which sends it further into Stein's gut. Stein falls out, Deathrow covers, that's THREE...no! Stein barely kicks out! Deathrow, frustrated, pulls Stein up for a brainbuster suplex...Stein blocks! Wait a minute! STEIN with a brainbuster! He's never used that before! He covers! ONE! TWO! TH---Deathrow kicks out! Stein looks perplexed, as he pulls Deathrow up by the hair. BILL HEWSON: And what's this...oh my God! Stein, don't do it! Don't descend to Deathrow's level! JACK JONES: Is he doing what I THINK he's doing? BILL HEWSON: OH MY GOD~! OH MY GOD! DEATHROW DRIVER! JACK JONES: No... DELIVERY DRIVER! The crowd is ballistic! Stein has crunched Deathrow with the man's own signature move! He goes to cover...ONE! TWO! TH---DEATHROW. SOMEHOW. KICKS OUT. OF THE PILEDRIVER. And now Stein looks to his hands, wondering what it would be to take Deathrow out. And the right hand twists ... into the claw. The VITIATOR. Deathrow looks to it, he could take Deathrow out with it. The crowd hushes, wondering what will HAPPEN NEXT... BILL HEWSON: He could use it, the Vitiator destroys! Just ask D! But Stein has refused to use the Vitiator since being freed of the influence of Dr. Morgoth, because it is THAT evil! JACK JONES: But it might be the only way to put Tommy Deathrow down! Stein... is fighting...fighting... but NEVER. TURN YOUR BACK. ON THOMAS DEATHROW. The Superstar is up, and he is FURIOUS at Stein using his move. Deathrow SMASHES a steel chair into the back of Stein, and Stein drops. Deathrow then reaches into his pants, rubs his hand, pulls it out... CLAW ON STEIN'S FACE. The PPV debut of the SWEATY BALL CLAW! And Stein flails about, trying to get free... Deathrow boots him in the gut! DDT! But then, Deathrow has an idea. He slides out of the ring momentarily... he goes to the announcers table, and clears off the monitors. BILL: HEWSON: Remember when I said we should be prepared to move... Jack? Jack Jones is already standing next to the timekeeper. Deathrow drags Stein outside to the announce table. He rolls the man on top, then climbs on after him. He's going for the Deathrow Driver on the announce table! But Stein back drops him! Deathrow hits the floor with a thud! The crowd is going nuts as Stein gets off the table. Bill Hewson and Jack Jones reclaim their positions. JACK JONES: Too bad. We almost had the rest of the night off. BILL HEWSON: I wouldn't miss calling this show for the world. And Stein has rolled Deathrow back into the ring! Stein climbs in, only for Deathrow to nail a low blow! That has to hurt, even for Stein! Deathrow... pulls a set of brass knucks from his tights, and swings with a wild punch, but misses, allowing Stein to apply the Cobra Clutch! BILL HEWSON: SMOTHERED IN KETCHUP! IT"S LOCKED IN! JACK JONES: But not for long! Look at Deathrow fight! Indeed, Deathrow is flailing like mad, trying to get the ropes, only for Stein to pull him back. Deathrow kicks at Stein's shins, nothing doing. He tries to bite the arm. Nothing doing. He drags them over to the turnbuckles. He gets his feet on the ropes, pushes back, going for a pin (a la Bret Hart at Wresltemania 8). But Stein rolls through, and keeps the hold applied, but the tumble outside the ring! JACK JONES: THIS IS INSANE! BILL HEWSON: Neither man relenting! This could go on all night! JACK JONES: Come on! Some of these fans have to work in the morning! Deathrow is still fighting! He gets a leg up on the apron, then uses all his strength to get his other leg up, and back into the ring. But Stein still refues to let go. Deathrow makes it to the centre of the ring, when Stein kicks the back of Deathrow's knee, forcing him to the mat. All of Stein's weight is on Deathrow now, and the fight is fading. After almost a minute, Deathrow grins...and promptly passes out. Smyth calls for the bell as the fans explode! FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner : Delivery Man #100... STEINNNNN! Morgan Smythe raises Stein's hand in victory as the crowd goes TOMATO. The Delivery Man has slayed his whale, Tommy Deathrow, but it took damned near everything he had to do it! Krusty Kid Paul is out, rolling Deathrow out of the ring and slinging him in his arms --- HERE COME THE DELIVERY MEN! The Delivery Men get into the ring and embrace Stein! #1! #2! #100! BILL HEWSON: And tonight, The Delivery Men have reunited! Overcame their demons! And they! Are! Victorious! What a moment this is, Jack Jones! JACK JONES: I know, Krusty Kid Paul's friendship with Deathrow...sniff! It's just so damn touching! Sexy? Yes? Drunk? Yes? But mostly...ADORABLE! BILL HEWSON: Here, have a hankie. With the Delivery Men standing in the ring, all with their arms raised, KKP carries Deathrow back. Is that...Jones humming "I Will Always Love You" from the Bodyguard? What? Video package! CHRIS CASINO. EVAN CARTWRIGHT. Tag Team Champions... Best Friends... Casino leaves...Kryenik takes his place...Casino returns! The New Rat Pack...EXPLODES. D-X & Casino? DEGENERATION NEXT! Casino! Cartwright! Best friends. BETTER ENEMIES. BILL HEWSON:... and then I thanked her for a very lovely evening. JACK JONES: You suck on almost every conceivable level, Hewson. Welcome back, folks, we've only got two matches to go, but if you thought you could turn it in and call it a night, OHHHHHHHHHH, NO NO NO NO, you ain't seen nothing yet. BILL HEWSON: Like the Delivery Men earlier, former partners in the FIGHT OF THEIR LIVES, but there's even MORE bad blood between these two, and with a full title at stake, too. A crisp, searing Santana guitar line fills the arena--now THAT, sir, is SMOOTH. Chris Casino headng down the ramp, the glitzy, flashy VEGAS title wrapped around his oh-so-sexy waist. The crowd gives him the business, booing the crap out of the man, but he just smirks condescendingly at them and brushes them away with his hand. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is for the PROVINCIAL TITLE! JACK JONES: Vegas! BILL HEWSON: You shush. FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing the CHALLENGER, from LAS VEGAS, NEVADA, weighing in at TWO-HUNDRED, TWENTY POUNDS... CHRIS! CASIIIIIIIIINNNOOO! BILL HEWSON: I think these two men know each other so very well, having been on the road with each other for YEARS. If you were in either man's shoes, what would YOU do, Jones? JACK JONES: I'd do pretty much what I'd always do in the ring, Hewson. BILL HEWSON: Really? You wouldn't change it up? Do anything unexpected to throw your rival off? JACK JONES: Why SHOULD I? The person who has to change up his style is the man that's unconfident in his abilities. If I were Casino, I'd stick to my usual, even if CARTWRIGHT knows it inside and out, because my confidence in myself eats away at my opponent. Ring Psych One-Oh-One. Casino slides into the ring, unhooks the VEGAS Title, and holds it up for the angry crowd to see. Santana fades out, now OHHH LAWDY, it's Curtis Mayfield. Evan Cartwright, the Provincial Title around his waist, comes out to the arena to a sizeable pop. FRANK WARBURTON: And his OPPONENT, weighing in at TWO-HUNDRED, TWENTY-TWO and ONE-QUARTER POUNDS... from CAAAAAIIIIRRRRO... Illinois... he is the PROVINCIAL CHAMPION, EEEEVAN! CAAAAAAAARTWRIIIIGHT! JACK JONES: Y'know, Cartwright has made for a passable Provincial Title but when Casino wins it and re-brands it, you've gotta admit he'll finally give it the lustre it deserves. BILL HEWSON: I think Cartwright may very well be the BEST Provincial Champion we've ever seen, and that Chris Casino's got an over-inflated opinion of himself! JACK JONES: Yeah, well, words don't settle nothin'. I think you'll see in a second that Casino outshines Cartwright at every step, just like wen they were together as The Rat Pack. BILL HEWSON: AHEM... as The Rat Pack, I think Cartwright was slightly more sound than Cartwright. Casino's addicted to the flash, unfortunately, and that could be his downfall in this match-up. Cartwright climbs into the ring, never taking his eyes off of Casino, who's chosen to wait him out, resting on the top ropes. Cartwright unhooks his title, then climbs up a turnbuckle to display it for the cheering throng of fans. Sure enough, a "CARTWRIGHT!" chant gets started. Casino scowls, and lowers himself to his feet. Cartwright does the same, flashing a cheeky smile at his former partner. Casino surrenders the VEGAS Title. Cartwright surrenders the Provincial Title... BILL HEWSON: This is IT! The moment we've been WAITING FOR! RING THE BELL! Casino and Cartwright circling each other, both men waiting for the first man to make the first move... Chris Casino, raising his hand up, singalling he's like a test of strength, Evan Cartwright nods and goes to lock up fingers... Casino changes his mind, and he's raising the other hand instead. Evan then goes to raise his other arm for the test of strength, and before that can happen, Casino switches arms again. Casino grins through his eyes at the Provincial Champion, waggling the fingers on his raised arm, invitingly... and Cartwright audibly sighs, choosing instead to cross his arms and shoot him an unimpressed look. "C'MON BUDDY," Casino goads, but Cartwright keeps looking fed-up with him, refusing to play. The Future seems hardly pleased about this decision, yelling at his rival for just standing there instead of locking up with him. Cartwright keeps his stance, and now Casino's complaining loudly to Referee Morgan Smythe, beefing about Evan's unprofessional attitude. Smythe shakes her head, but cautions Cartwright about stalling the match. Annoyed, Cartwright watches as Casino raises his right hand again, mugging with a sly grin. Cartwright goes to raise his left hand... Casino switches to HIS left hand--and Cartwright laces up with HIS left. Chris Casino momentarily stunned as Evan went with his opposite hand, and Cartwright quickly follows through by stepping up and WRAPPING Casino's arm around the back of his head! Evan's using his left hand to pin Chris' left arm behind his noggin, with Evan's right hand free--and here it comes! RIGHT HAND! RIGHT HAND! RIGHT HAND! Evan Cartwright using an unorthodox tie-up to his advantage! Casino's getting peppered with shots, he's in an awkward position to defend himself... Cartwright WINDS UP... ROARING ELBOW! Precise and plentiful to Chris Casino's face, although he had to let go of Chris' hand to get the full effect. Casino gets back up, checking his face--ROARING ELBOW, with Casino staggering down to on knee on this one. Irish Whip from Evan to Chris, sending the challenger into the ropes, rebounding into Evan's ROARING ELBOW! Chris Casino is sent flying off of his feet on that one, coming crashing to the ground. Patting his elbow for good luck, Cartwright hoists it up, and then drops to the mat, colliding it into one of Casino's knees. Casino winces at this shot, and Cartwright wastes no time chaining it into a knee bar, looking to hyperextend the joint from a seated position. JACK JONES: See that, right there? Such precise, relentless assault? Evan learned that from Chris Casino. A better wrestler. His former colleague--he's have NOTHING if not for Chris Casino. BILL HEWSON: That's hardly true, Jones, and besides which, Cartwright has better things to do than try to get your approval. JACK JONES: TELL ME YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT. Casino, teeth gritted while Cartwright works his knee, lunges out and goes for Cartwright's scalp--but comes up short, so instead grips onto his EAR. Casino's got the whole thing in his hand and is WRENCHING it as violently as he can, Morgan Smythe's threatening disqualification here, ONE! TWO! Evan, wincing, still presses on with the kneebar, Chris is still yanking, THREE! FOUR! Evan's grip falters for a moment, and Casino releases the ear, quickly extricating his leg soon after. Smythe's reading Casino the riot act, but he doesn't seem to want to acknowledge anyone who isn't Cartwright... both men rush to their feet, but Cartwright's steadier--quick kick to Casino's gut doubles him over, locks in a Gutwrench, lifting him over for the GUTWRENCH SUP--NO! Casino's legs kick and flail as hefights the momentum, reversing back onto his own feet. His arms grab Evan's thighs, here comes the counter--BACK BODY DROP! Cartwright sent unceremoniously to the boards, with his woes just beginning... "The Future" keeps the offense up, grinding forearm shivers into the Double Champion's face. Smythe's turning red-faced ordering Casino away from the face, and he relents, but not before rising to his full height, flicking his tongue at her, and covertly getting in a stomp on Cartright's face. While the crowd lets him have it, Casino walks over to the dazed Cartwright's foot, and raises it up--then backing up, running forward and peforming a forward flip, WRENCHING Evan's ankle, knee and hip as close to his head a little further than they were meant to go. Seated, Casino smiles, wets his finger and touches his ass--IT'S RED HOT! He returns to seat Cartwright up--now nursing his knee--and shuffles his feet, culminating in a big, loud KICK to Evan's back. Evan grits his teeth, trying not to betray any pain, but Casino's got a streak going--another KICK! And another one! Each one going into Cartwright's spine like he's looking for a touchdown. Casino grabs Evan's wrists next, posing for the crowd, it seems like the Bow-and-Arrow hold's next, exploiting any spine damage he might have caused, here comes the knee--CARTWRIGHT'S FIGHTING IT! Casino's arms are shaking, fighting Cartwright's resistance, but Cartwright's persevering, raising himself to stand--CASINO'S SWITCHING HOLDS! SHINBREAKER! Casino JUST SLAMMED Cartwright back down to size with a SHINBREAKER on the weakened leg. Cartwright's down on the canvas again, favouring the one leg, while Casino, all smiles, stoops down and pulls Cartwright's face up to look at him-- CASINO: WE COULD HAVE STAYED PARTNERS, EVAN! YOU DISRESPECTED ME! YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF! --and just as suddenly, a missile of spit splashes into Casino's eye. Scowling, Chris stands up, wipes his eye, and with one more sneer to Cartwright, he turns towards the entrance and throws his arms up in an "X". BILL HEWSON: WAIT a minute! That's a referee call! Is he saying Cartwright's too injured to continue? JACK JONES: No, I've seen a wrestler do that once before here in NAPW, and if it means what I think it does, then you might be right after all. Casino flashes a toothy smile at the now-bewildered Smythe, and then heads back to Cartwright, presently working his way to standing. Casino runs himself off of the ropes and goes low--KNEE CLIP sends Cartwright back down again. Smythe hauls Casino up herself and tugs at her shirt, warning him that ONE MORE cheap shot, ONE MORE illegal tactic is going to see him DISQUALIFIED, but Casino straight-facedly denies doing anything wrong-- BILL HEWSON: NOW WHAT--is that D-X walking down the ramp to ringside? JACK JONES: It sure is, Hewson, not that that fussy dame ref's gonna turn her head to look! Sure enough, it's Bruce Richards, a full bag of golf clubs slung over his shoulder, and Kyle Roberts with handcuffs and a cheese grater. The audience tries to repel them with the power of HATE, but to no avail. BILL HEWSON: NO! DAMN IT! Those no-good D-X cowards are here to destroy Cartwright! DAMN THEM TO HELL! JACK JONES: They're innocent until proven guilty, Dorothy, so stop editorializing on wrestlers YOU don't like and start calling the--OH, NO! DEAR GOD NO! Streaking through the audience--popping over the security barrier--IT'S RAVAGER! IT'S AL THOES! BOBBY O'BRADY--AND CARTER OWENS! And they've brought weapons of their own! Making a bee-line for D-X! JACK JONES: DAMN THAT RAVAGER AND HIS NAZI HORDE! Those NAZIS aren't involved in this match-up AT ALL! BILL HEWSON: For the love of God, this is our FIRST PAY-PER-VIEW, can you PLEASE NOT EMBARASS US!? JACK JONES: Alle hageln Ravagers prachtvolles Regime! LINK! RECHT! LINK! RECHT! BILL HEWSON: CUT HIS MIC! Casino's grin turns into a look of abject horror as D-X gets jumped at ringside, now facing two-on-one numbers. The Scottish Wrecking Machine Al Thoes--charges and misses Stylin' Kyle with his brick-stuffed sheep doll--but Bobby O'Brady picks up the rebound with his Chyna book and waffles him! Ravager has lost his staple gun in a brawl with Bruce Richards, and the two men exchange lefts and rights--and Carter Owens sails in with a steel chair to take him down! D-X grab each other and regroup--they look at each other, look at the four men bearing down on them, yell "GOOD LUCK, CHRIS!" and storm up the ramp to the back. The Revolution's not that far behind, Owens and the Celtic Assassins in hot pursuit, Ravager directing traffic--the White Collar Assassin pauses on the ramp, trns towards the ring, and flashes his eerie smile at Chris Casino. Casino, seeing his new partners beaten from ringside, now barks furious insults at Ravager--EVANBEHINDHIMROLLUP!!! ONE! TWO! THRRRRAAAAAAAGODTHATWASTWO!!! Casino kicks out! BILL HEWSON: Casino's plan nearly BACKFIRED--and I can CALL it his plan, nobody's gonna CRITICIZE me for it now--and nearly LOST it to Cartwright, who's BACK in the game in a BIG WAY! Casino rushes to stand, Cartwright, worse for wear, is also standing. A quick exchange of dirty looks between both men--AND IT'S ON! Casino goes to rush him--JAPANESE ARM DRAG! Casino's back on his feet--JAPANESE ARM DRAG! The fans are enjoying this far too much--JAPANESE ARM DRAG! Casino's standing, but dizzy--DROPKICK! Evan sends Chris off of his feet and onto his ass, sprawled against the second rope. Cartwright's all smiles here, and he runs back to the opposite rope, rebounds--and crashes into Casino's face, BRONCO STYLE, letting his momentum carry him up and over Casino to the outside. BILL HEWSON: You CRAZY, Cartwright! You so CRAZY! The fans let loose with a "HOLY SHIT!" chant. Cartwright, exhilerated, reaches across the apron to grab Casino, fallen off the ropes, to drag his chest and shoulders out of the ring. Cartwright climbs to the security barrier's top, standing roughly a ring-height... and JUMPS--LEG DROP! ONTO CASINO'S TORSO, aiming to chop the man in HALF! The "HOLY SHIT!" chant keeps going, naturally, as Casino gets knocked to the concrete floor at ringside HARD. Cartwright's up, quick as a hiccup, and pulls Casino up by the waistband, propping him against the ring. With a flash of his hand, a KNIFE-HAND CHOP tears into his opponent's chest. WHOO! Smythe may not be a tremendous Casino fan, but she needs the action in the ring, darlin'. ONE! KNIFE-HAND CHOP! WHOO! TWO! KNIFE-HAND CHOP! WHOO! THREE! Casino's nursing his chest with both arms now, and Cartwright's looking up at he ref's count, thinking about his next course of action. FOUR! With a mischievous look on his face, Cartwright hooks up Casino, head under his shoulder and grabbing the waistband. Lifting him overhead--VERTICAL SUPLEX--FIVE!--NO! Cartwright lifts him igh only yo toss him forward, hanging him on the rop rope like a wet shirt! SIX! Cartwright slides back into the ring, stopping the count, and before Smythe can order him to get him down from the ropes, Cartwright's run across the ring, rebounds off the ropes-- BILL HEWSON: OH. MY. GOD. --RUNNING BASEMENT DROPKICK TO--NO!! Casino straightened himself out at the last second, Cartwright sailed over the first rope AND INTO THE GUARDRAIL! With nothing to slow him down! Casino lands gingerly on his feet as the fans restart the "HOLY SHIT!" chant, and "The Future" taps his noggin, reminding Cartwright's now-crumpled body that he's "smarter". He then berates Smythe for not doing her count, and giving him the hairy eyeball, she starts to do just that. ONE! Cartwright begins to stir. TWO! His hand grips a guard-rail bar. Casino runs his mouth about The Future and VEGAS, BABEE! THREE! Cartwright, possibly concussed, gets a second hand-hold on the railing. FOUR! He hauls himself up, his body as shakey as a newborn calf. FIVE! With the crowd cheering him on, Cartwright steadies himself, and turns aroundBASEBALLSLIDE! Casino sticks him right in the mush, sprawling him against the guardrail again! The crowd learns how to hate on someone again, as Casino stands up within the confines of the squared circle, patting himself on the back. He then turns to the outraged Morgan Smythe and reminds her that traditionally, "six" is the next number in the sequence. She seethes--it must be love. SIX! Cartwright places his hand on his head, he's trying to come around. SEVEN! A leg twitches, he shifts his weight onto his hip, CAN HE MAKE IT!? EIGHT! CARTWRIGHT'S ON HIS KNEES! NINE! WAIT A MINUTE! Casino rolls out of the ring, breaking Smythe's count! He grabs Cartwright with both hands and BALES him BACK into the ring! And gets in right BEHIND him! BILL HEWSON: Titles can't change hands on a Count-Out, Casino surely knew that--I just think he wanted to send Cartwright a MESSAGE! Picking Cartwright up, he slips behind him with the double underhook, twisting, here it comes, BANK--CARTWRIGHT! COMES TO LIFE! Pushes Casino to the ropes--surprised, he bounces off chest-first--and into Cartwright's awaiting arms! GERMAN SUPLEX! Cartwright's just dropped Casino on his head and shoulders, but how together is he right now? Both men on the ground, Smythe's deciding whether or not to start another count, but NO, Casino's the first to find his feet. Hair flowing wild, he lands a kick to Cartwright's ribs, then props his head up, pulling his right hand back in a fist--CARTWRIGHT'S GOT HIM! ROLLING BACK--SMALL PACKAGE! ONE! TWO! TWOOOOO! as a horrified Casino kicks out. With his cobwebs seemingly cleared, Cartwright's back on his feet to meet a boiling-hot Casino. Casino leaps, LEG LARIAT, Cartwright SCOUTS it and ducks, Casino lands and turns around, STO by Cartwright! And it's BACK TO BUSINESS as Cartwright goes for the knee--SINGLE-LEG CRAB! Flipping Casino belly-fist, torquing the knee! Casino cries out, and like THAT Smythe's checking to see if he'll submit. Casino digging his fingertips into his scalp, looking like he's in a bad way, realizing the distance between him and the ropes. Cartwright screams furiously and wrenches BACK, Casino screams too. Casino's hand trembles, hovering over the mat, Casino's hand... COMES DOWN! STAYS DOWN! This is NOT a tap-out! Casino plants his OTHER hand down, and is literally DRAGGING himself to the ropes! Cartwright senses this and starts yanking back HARDER which, in turn, pulls Casino's upper body BACK by doing so, and now both men are playing a macabre game of tug-of-war with Casino's knee and spine--Casino WRENCHES forward, can he, will he... YES! Chris Casino's hand grab the rope, the man himself exhausted, and Smythe's ordering Cartwright off of his opponent. Evan begrudgingly respects her, and releases the leg--and GRABS THE ANKLE, pulling Casino OFF and AWAY from the damn ropes! He's got the ankle, he's looking to flip him for another SINGLE-LEG--CASINO'S NABBED HIM! AND IT'S ANOTHER SMALL PACKAGE, THIS TIME CASINO'S! ONE! TWO! TWOOOOOOO!!! Cartwright rolls out, looking stunned at Casino, who's busy drawing breath. Cartwright's on his feet, reaching for--CASINO! KIP-UP! HUUUUUURRRRICANRRRAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAA!!! Casino taking Cartwright down with a desperation move! Cartwright's knocked down to a seated position, Casino gets to his feet and ROARS! With a running start, Casino comes off the ropes--SNAP NECKBREAKER! BILL HEWSON: Only Mr. Perfect could have done that better! Hey, if we turn your mic back on, will you behave? JACK JONES: Oh, my mic's still on. BILL HEWSON: What the--then why didn't you SAY anything!? JACK JONES: Wheels within wheels, Hewson. Cartwright thrashing on the mat, Casino with a wicked look on his eye. He scrapes an imaginary something off his boot on Cartwright, then heads for the top rope-- CASINO: GET YOUR CAMERAS READY, YOU DIRTY CANADIANS! --and flips backwards, super-fast--FLYING! CORKSCREW! 450 SPLASH! CRASH AND BURN! Cartwright, despite all appearances, having enough life to have rolled clear, did so. Casino flops on the mat in pain, and Evan's on the attack--SLINGSHOT takes Chris clear across the ring. Casino's on his belly again--STUMP PULLER drills the knee! Cartwright goes again for the Single-Leg Crab, but Casino's super-close to the ropes this time and can grip it without difficulty. Smythe's ordering Cartwright off of Casino's leg--Cartwright's not so sure that he WANTS to! Smythe has to enforce the rules, giving him a five-count, ONE! TWO! THREE! Cartwright curses and relinquishes his grip... Smythe, seemingly fed-up with the rulebreaking, starts arguing loudly with Evan, telling him that a rope break is a rope break and that he has to learn to follow the rules. Evan, soft for redheads, politely accepts the lecture. JACK JONES: HA! Casino's right behind him! Keep your eye on the-- LEG LARIAT FROM CASINO--EVAN SAW IT--DUCKED--SMYTHE GETS PASTED INSTEAD! Chris Casino's sneak attack bypassed the intended target and drilled a hundred-pound woman instead. Casino looks--well, more annoyed than anything--and Cartwright's tunnel-visioned on Casino! He underhooks both of Chris' arms from behind-- JACK JONES: WAIT A MINUTE! --twists him around, then hits-- BILL HEWSON: --THE BANKRUPT! EVAN CARTWRIGHT JUST HIT THE BANKRUPT! AND CASINO'S OUT LIKE A LIGHT! EVAN! TURNS CHRIS OVER! HOOKS THE LEG--IT'S A COVER! But there's NO REF, and the reality of the situation hs just dawned on Evan, looking around to find Smythe's inert body on the canvas. Evan's face DRAINS. Wide-eyed, he stumbles over to Smythe, trying to shake some life into her, listening for a heartbeat. She doesn't stir. Evan stands at full height, waving his arms towards the entrance curtain to get a new referee out-- JACK JONES: Really, knowing HIS luck, he's just summoning D-X again. WHAT'S THIS--LOW BLOW! It's a groggy Casino's forearm colliding with Evan's privates from behind! A BLATANT cheat, but with no ref to DQ him, Casino's simply free to act with impunity! Cartwright's entire face screws up, and Casino waistlocks his man drags him away from the ropes-- BILL HEWSON: NO! --hits the Wheelbarrow Suplex-- BILL HEWSON: NO! NOT LIKE THIS! --and with the legs cinched, starts to turn him around into a Boston Crab-- JACK JONES: The Cartwheel! The Future goes tit for tat and blasts Cartwright with his own finisher--and doing a BETTER JOB, might I add. BILL HEWSON: But the Crab's NOT LOCKED IN! Cartwright's fighting it! FIGHTING IT! Sure enough, screaming through clenched teeth, Cartwright's all shoulders and arms, resisting being flipped onto his chest with all of his might. Casino SNARLS at him, reaches in deep, draws some more breath, and then twists--CARTWRIGHT STRAIGHTENS HIS LEGS! CASINO TIPS FORWARD! IT'S ANOTHER SMALL PACKAGE--LOCKED TIGHT! Casino's shoulders ae on the mat with NOWHERE TO GO! And Smythe--SMYTHE IS STARTING TO STIR! Slowly, slooooooowwwllllly she drags herself to the pin--the crowd's SCREAMING--and the hand comes down--ONE! TWO! JACK JONES: NO! BILL HEWSON: THRRNNOOOOOO!!! CASINO JUST UPSET CARTWRIGHT AND NOW HIS SHOULDERS ARE DOWN! SMYTHE'S COUNTING THE NEW PIN! ONE! TWO! CARTWRIGHT KICKS FREE, NO TIME TO RECOVER, CRADLE PIN ON A STUNNED CASINO! ONE! TWO! THRTWO-AND-A-HALF,CASINO KIPS UP AND REVERSES CARTWRIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS! ONE! TWO! THRETWO-AND-A-HALF, CARTWRIGHT SITS UP, RE-PINS CASINO! ONE! TWO! HE'S DONE IT-- THREE-- NO IT'S NOT! NO IT'S NOT, CASINO'S SAT ALL THE WAY UP, ALL THE WAY UP, IT'S A RANA! ONE! BILL HEWSON: STOP, REF-- TWO! BILL HEWSON: HE'S GOT THE ROPES! THREE! BILL HEWSON: CASINO HELD THE ROPES! HE HELD THE DAMNED ROPES! The crowd ROARS in disgust as "Smooth" blasts on the speakers, and Casino drapes his shoulders across the bottom rope, laughing hysterically. FRANK WARBURTON: HEEERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND NNNNEEEEEEW PROVINCIAL CHAMPION... CHRIS! CASIIIIIIIIINNNOOO! BILL HEWSON: A fantastic match...I can't believe it! Casino cheated on that pinfall! JACK JONES: Yeah, and it was the ref's job to catch it, but she had to go and get hit in the face instead of doing her job. So really, no sympathy from THE JONES. BILL HEWSON: That's CRAP! JACK JONES: Tell it to THE JONES. Evan looks HEART-BROKEN... he seems to know what's happened, but looks as emotionally exhausted as he is physically. He looks up at Chris Casino, his former partner, his former friend, going from sarcastically slapping Smythe on the back to yelling at irate fans in the front row, and he just... sighs. He gets to hs feet, and approaches Casino from behind. Casino whirls around, fist at the ready, giving him a look that asks if he wants any, and Cartwright... sticks out his hand? Casino stares at the hand, dumb-founded. He looks atthe hand, at Evan's eyes, the crowd to the left, the crowd to the right, and back to the hand again... Santana fades out, the crowd filling th void by chantIng "THANK YOU, EVAN! THANK YOU, CHRIS!" Casino looks Evan in the eyes, softening his smile, and offers his own hand in return--PSYCH!!! With a shit-eating grin, Casino then yanks his hand away and runs it across his hair. Evan... shakes his head in disgust, saying "I'm done with you, man." While Casino mocks him with a pouty face, Cartwright pointedly rolls out of the ring and starts heading to the back. BILL HEWSON: Oh, that's classy. What a CLASS ACT our new Provincial Champion is. JACK JONES: I keep telling you he's the VEGAS Champion, Hewson. Hey, good news, everyone--the NAPW Champion, Devastation, is defending his title NEXT! That's only a scant few moments away, wrestling fans! With Cartwright departed, Casino bellows for the ring crew to bring im his spoils--first, his custom-made Vegas Title, and then the purloined Provincial Title. He holds both titles up in either hand and then gives the crowd a twirl so that all may see. He stops to check his smile in both, too, before ascending the nearest turnbuckle and displaying them in either hand again. No one in the crowd seems particularly pleased, but that hardly matters. Because it's GREAT TO BE CHRIS CASINO. Fade into a promo for NAPW "COMPLETE CONTROL: Now available on DVD" spot. Cartwright vs Rees, ladder match! WAR GAMES! And more! Now... cut to the now-cleared ring. Frank Warburton is the center his presence and demeanor meaning presents. No, wait. Meaning ATTENTION ON THE RING. FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the LAST MAN STANDING match for the NAPW HEAVYWEEEEEEEIGHT TITLE! The crowd begins to buzz, cheering. FRANK WARBURTON: In this contest, the competitor who can knock his opponent down for a standing ten count will be determined the winner. There are no submissions, no pinfalls, no count-outs, and no disqualifications. Furthermore, the Charitable Trust is BANNED from ringside! Now, introducing the combatants... "MORE HUMAN THAN HUMAN!"
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first the challenger! He is a former NAPW Tag Team Champion and a former NAPW Heavyweight Champion. The master of the Rings of Rex and the Nexus Cloverleaf and man who brings Total Annihilation to his opponents... He stands six-foot three-inches and weighed in this morning at two-hundred and forty-four pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, THIS! IS! "THE NEXUS ONNNNNE"... REEEEEEEEX CALIBERRRRRRRRRRRR! BILL HEWSON: And a tremendous ovation for The Nexus One, and you can take one look at that man tonight and know he is completely focused. Completely focused like a laser on once again becoming the NAPW Heavyweight champion. It's been a long time coming, Jack Jones. JACK JONES: You can see it in his eyes, Bill Hewson. Rex Caliber's always intense, but he usually lets his fun-loving side come out. Not tonight! Mitsawa Rodo has his student primed, trained and ready. There's no doubt. But he is going in the underdog tonight against the most dominant Heavyweight Champion the NAPW has ever known in Devastation! Caliber stops on the ring steps, and for the first time in a long time, pulls out a small vial from his boot. He dips his finger in the vial and roughly writes "DEV" in the corner, putting an "X" through the man's name. He hits the middle of the ring and raises his arms. REX CALIBER IS READY... FRANK WARBURTON: And now, the CHAMPION...
"We don't need no water, let the motherfucker burn And so he comes. FRANK WARBURTON: Making his way down the aisle, he is perhaps the most dominant NAPW Heavyweight Champion of all time, and the leader of the Charitable Trust! He weighed in this morning at a weight of THREE-hundred and FIVE pounds and stands an imposing six-feet, eight inches tall. He is the Vicious Phenom...the HYBRID ICON...the ALPHA AND OMEGA of professional wrestling! Ladies and gentlemen, THIS! IS! DEVVVVVVASTATIONNNNNNNN! Devastation steps over the top rope into the ring, wearing the SIXTEEN POUNDS OF GOLD around his waist. He raises one arm high, utter confidence on his face. He looks to all four sides, impervious to the loud boos of the crowd. BILL HEWSON: And like how he did it or not, Devastation has been a dominant champion. He's beaten Ravager! He eliminated D! at Sole Survivor! He's beaten the man he faces tonight, Rex Caliber! He's beaten the upstart TV Champion Uzi! He's beaten the very best in the NAPW... JACK JONES: And he beat twenty-nine other men to win Sole Survivor 2006, Bill Hewson, to earn his first title shot! And that win is what led us to where we are now, with Devastation the champion and Rex Caliber the challenger. It all started at Sole Survivor - Rex won the title! Dev earned his shot! And it ends... TONIGHT! Devastation folds the belt up and gives it a long look before passing it on to Dick Kiebiech. Kiebiech displays the belt to Rex Caliber, then holds it up to all four sides of the ring. DING. DING. DING. The match is officially underway! BILL HEWSON: So much bad blood between these two men. For Rex Caliber, it's not just about winning the NAPW Heavyweight Title, it's about pride. Devastation has made Caliber's life a living hell in and out of the ring. And here's the lock-up! Devastation & Caliber lock-up. Caliber showing some surprising strength, but Devastation outmuscles Rex significantly. He muscles Rex to the ropes, but Rex won't give. Devastation converts into an arm wringer and IMMEDIATELY lowers the boom, dropping Caliber to one knee. The big left arm is raised again, dropped like a steel girder across the shoulder of Caliber, again dropping the challenger to one knee. Caliber with a sudden burst of energy reverses the arm wringer into a hammerlock. Caliber tries to ride Devastation to the corner, Devastation throws a back elbow into Caliber's face to break. Devastation scoops Rex up with a big slam to start this off, and Caliber comes up holding his back in pain from the power of the champion. Devastation pauses briefly to arrogantly taunt the fans before throwing a big left hand right into Caliber's ribs. Another shot by the southpaw, and Caliber is now backed into the ropes. Irish whip by Devastation --- reversed by Rex Caliber! He stops... belly-to-belly side suplex on the champion! Caliber bounces off the ropes as a surprised Devastation gets back up... swinging neckbreaker! And Caliber --- CALIBER'S GOING FOR THE KATAHIJIME! Caliber trying to lock on the TAZZMISSION, but Devastation quickly goes to the ropes. JACK JONES: What's Kiebiech doing, Devastation's in the ropes! Caliber has to break... what am I talking about? It's an illegal choke, Kiebiech needs to force a break! BILL HEWSON: In any other match, you'd be correct, but this is LAST MAN STANDING! There's no rope breaks in this kind of environment! Devastation can't lose by submitting, but if Caliber can knock Devastation out for a ten count... Devastation shoots a furious glare at Kiebiech and then, out of nowhere, topples forward over the top rope with Caliber on his back. Both men spill to the concrete and hit hard. Devastation is up first, rubbing his throat as Caliber begins to use the security barrier to get to his feet. Big double ax-handle by the champion sends Rex down, and now what? Devastation picks Caliber up for a GORILLA PRESS! He holds Caliber up, doing one push-up to insult the challenger, and then... GOOD. GOD. Rex Caliber dropped throat-first against the security barrier. Caliber coughs, holding his throat as Devastation raises one arm high to a chorus of boos. Smirk from the champion, perhaps he's thinking "I'll give you something to boo about." IRISH WHIP --- Caliber goes thighs-first into the steel steps and flying over them, displacing the steps in the process. This time, there's no taunting as Devastation slowly stal |