TUESDAY. NIGHT. FIGHTS.07/04/2006
"WE'RE SCRAPPED VALENTINES! WE'RE TANGERINE RINDS!" BILL HEWSON: A truly painful way for us to start off Tuesday Night Fights tonight, we're going to hear the first words of the new NAPW Champion, Static! JACK JONES: Painful for US? Static looks like his arm is about to fall off! Lights ON. Indeed, the NAPW Champion looks to be in a world of hurt as he saunters to the ring, taking his time, consistantly smirking underneath the mask. He's wearing the ten pounds of gold across his waist, and a ten-pound sling on his right arm. His screwdriver is tucked securely in the chest of his new tights. His hate is unbridled, no matter the fact that he got what he wanted on Tuesday. The jeers are raining down. "WE'RE CRIMES, CRIMES, CRIMES, CRIMES, CRIMES!" He could care less. He has what he wanted, that's all that matters. The winner of the rat race is a rat, after all. Static delicately crawls onto the ring apron and climbs through the ropes, snatching Frank Warburton's mic before he even gets a chance to introduce him as the new champion. BILL HEWSON: Classy move from our new champ, there. JACK JONES: Bill, Static sees himself as being on top of the world right now. He's NAPW's only active Triple Crown winner! He nearly killed his former tag partner, challenged him to a match, and won it! Nobody's touching Static right now, as far as I'm concerned. Before speaking, Static takes off the belt and places it on the ring floor. The smirk is gone, and there seems to be a tinge of sentiment in his voice. STATIC: Y'know something... The crowd's jeers, which have remained a consistant buzz until this point, have now picked up. STATIC: Y'know, there used to be a time when even I was like the rest of you freaks here in the crowd. I used to sit on my hands, get mad at anyone with a higher standing than me, basically, I'd just be angry and get nothing done. I used to say to myself, "Static, when are you finally going to lash out against your oppressor? When are you going to start being pro-active? When are you going to take what's rightfully yours?" BILL HEWSON: I guess his definition of "pro-active" includes stabbing his best friend in the eye. STATIC: Thankfully, for me, I was able to do something that none of you will ever have the guts to do: I took what was mine, baby! Six-twenty-seven-oh-six, last Tuesday Night Fights, is a night that will go down as one of the defining moments in the annals of NAPW and professional wrestling's storied history as a whole. I told Rex Caliber prior to the match, "Rex, nevermind this 'I'm just using my hands' nonsense! I want a bloodbath!" Thnakfully, he was able to give me just that. Caliber, you and I, we tore the house down, baby! For twenty minutes, you were able to match me, move for move, hardcore for hardcore, high-flying for high-flying. Unfortunately for you, when it came to the twenty-first minute, I proved to the world what I knew all along: that you couldn't hang with me. That I was the best Crime. That I am the rightful NAPW Champion. BILL HEWSON: Rightful champion my ass, he tapped to the Rings of Rex! He wouldn't have won it weren't it for Joseph Winchell! STATIC: And need I remind you? The FIRST NAPW Triple Crown champion! Provincial, Tag Team, NAPW Champion, I've done it all, baby! Despite being the smallest champion that this federation has to offer, physical-size wise, I've just shown the world, just shown NAPW, just shown Rex Caliber himself, that it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the fight in the dog. Rex, let's be real here: I've ruined you. The Summer of Rex is dead, dead in the water. "What Can the Champ Do For You?" now goes down in history alongside "Where's the Beef?" as "stupid-ass catchphrases that nobody in their right mind would dare to repeat in public." Without me, Rex, you were vulnerable. Without your belt, you're nothing. Your body and mind are broken, all thanks to the Hardcore Luchadore. I'd tell you to go back home, but... Static pauses, acknowledging the massive "You screwed Rex!" and "Rex Cal-i-ber!" chants that have alternated throughout the crowd for the past minute or two. He first appears annoyed, but quickly regains his composure again with a smirk. STATIC: If you meant that I screwed him, by drilling him with a screwdriver, well yes, you'd be correct. "BOOOO!!!" STATIC:But enough is enough, Rex. Simply put, CRIME vs. CRIME was a one-shot deal, baby. Nevermind the fact that I would absolutely humiliate you if we were to tangle once more, the fact is that the suits just don't think it can make money any more. BILL HEWSON: What? Me and every other person under this roof wanted to see a Crimes re-match! Rex deserves that much! JACK JONES: Bill, Rex technically deserves nothing. You should speak for yourself! STATIC: Yep, sorry bud. Maybe it's about time for you to chase other endevours, like, y'know, losing to Tommy Deathrow in the Street Fight later tonight. Maybe you can challenge Lloyd Rees for the Television Title on Action! this week, I don't know. Maybe a guy like Wayne Wright is more your speed. Either way, Rex, you'd better stay the HELL away me. Y'see Rex, I know that you're a bit slow. You probably think that this belt that I have here is still yours, and I just stole it or something. And now you're on your Path of F'N RAGE!... that's why, after the match on Tuesday. I worked out a little... contract, with an... inside source of mine. Murmur in the crowd as Static unfurls a piece of paper he was carrying in his tights. STATIC: Yep, Rex, y'see here? Thanks to my inside source deep within NAPW, says here that if you DARE--DARE. To lay a finger on me outside of a match, to sneak-attack me, to feebly try to redeem yourself by assaulting me... if you DARE try any of that garb, it's OVER, Rex! You will never, EVER get another shot at the NAPW Championship if your Path of F'N Rage happens to run into my Summer of Static! It's OVER, you'll be FINISHED! BILL HEWSON: What?! Who the hell---who the hell does Static know in NAPW that can make that kind of deal?! STATIC: That way, Rex, we can be truly assured that Crime vs. Crime is over, and we can make way for some new blood in the title scene. History is written by the winner, we can all agree, and it's time to move on... with that said! There is one man in attendance tonight, who'll have himself a pretty big match. This one man is pretty much a rookie to the wrestling scene, but he's made quite a name for himself in a short period of time. JACK JONES: Ah, that's easy. He's talking about D!, taking on Carter Owens later. STATIC: This one man, he deserves a shot at this title, more than ANYONE in NAPW. We've met once before, sure, but that was no true battle. The re-match, for this belt?... ratings, baby. Money in the bank. You know who you are, man, I've got you in my crosshairs. The Summer of STATIC claims its first victim, tonight! The Blood Brothers kicks up once more. Static collects his title belt from the ring floor and delicately places it back on his waist, grinning like a cheshire cat when Frank Warburton comes back in the ring and gives him a dirty look. Along the way back up the ramp, he's giving out middle fingers to the fans like it was going out of style. BILL HEWSON: D! definitely deserves a shot more than anyone else, and he's only taken on Static once before. Unfortunately, that match was cut short by Heat and Chopper... could Static be "targeting" him, like he mentioned? JACK JONES: I think D! needs to start thinking about getting insurance against a screwdriver attack! BILL HEWSON: Either way, I think I take serious issue with the face of the company, the NAPW Champion, gloating about stabbing his former friend in the eye, and then claiming to be targeting other fan favorites. It's sick! JACK JONES: It's the new era, Hewson! Like baggy pants, bling-bling, rap music, the kids today need a champion that they can relate to... maybe! BILL HEWSON: Kids can relate to a guy in a mask who stabs people in the eye? JACK JONES: He's hip!
BILL HEWSON: This whole time I thought it was a wrestling move. I feel so... dirty, now. "The Devil In The Kitchen" by Ashley MacIsaacs hits the PA and the crowd actually pops nicely for... Leland Conrad? He may think it's for him, but no, it's for his clients. Thoes is in traditional kilt and colors of Scotland while O'Brady is sporting some orange and green tights. Luck 'o da Irish. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is a tag team attraction, scheduled for one fall. Approaching the ring, accompanied by Leland Conrad attorney-at-law, at a combined weight of Five Hundred and Sixty-Five Pounds. Al "The Scottish Wrecking Machine" Thoes and "The Irish Adonis" Bobby O'Brady... they are the CELTIIIIIIIIIIIIC ASSASSIIIINNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSS! Bobby and Al high five one another and soak up some sporadic cheers. They appear to be super confident today and this makes their attorney at ringside very happy. Their music cuts out and is replaced by James Brown crooning "This Is A Man's World." Lance is out first, dressed in a snazzy Lycra body glove that shows way more than we want to see. He receives major heat as he shucks and jives his way forward, followed soon after by Thor Heine and Dan The Man. Team Man are really hated and reviled by the Calgary crowd. JACK JONES: You would think these rodeo queens would love seeing some manly men for a change. Dan and Thor are truly the epitome of masculinity. A real man's man. BILL HEWSON: You know, I always did wonder that about you. Now I know for sure. JACK JONES: Just what are you implying, eh? FRANK WARBURTON: Approaching the ring, accompanied by stylist-at-large, Lance, at a combined weight of Five Hundred and Fifty pounds. "The Rainbow Warrior of Sweden and Greater Scandinavia" Thor Heine and Dan "The Man" Mooneyham... they claim to be saviors of masculinity, this... is... TEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAMMMMM MMAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN! Dan and Thor huddle with Lance and discuss strategy. Lance sticks out his fruity booty from the huddle and wiggles it in the direction of the Celtic Assassins. Oh no he didn't!! Morgan Smythe, with a slightly disgusted look on her face, gives the signal to the timekeeper. DING! No waste of time for Bobby and Al as they both kick Lance in the rear very hard. Lance flies out of the ring like a suicidal luchador and lands in a heap on the thin padding, rubbing his behind. Dan and Thor lock horns with Bobby and Al and this match begins like a Texas Tornado. Smythe tries to regain order, but it is chaos. Dan sends Al Thoes sailing over the top rope and allows Morgan to corral him into his corner, being sure to take his sweet time distracting her while Thor is busy choking Bobby O'Brady against the bottom rope. Conrad, helping Al to his feet, yells and screams for her to turn around. She does so and administers the five count. Thor releases the choke at four and raises his arms like an innocent victim of circumstance. Dan claps enthusiastically and gives a belly laugh while Lance tries to pull himself to his feet on the outside. BILL HEWSON: Team Man wasting no time with the dirty tactics. JACK JONES: Did you see how they assaulted Lance earlier? This is simply a sample of the payback Team Man will administer. Thor wails on O'Brady with clubbing blows to the head, back and neck from his mighty forearm. He whips Bobby into the ropes aaaaand... Clothesline from Sweden with Love. Thor makes a lazy cover, and Bobby kicks out with ease. Thor drags his man to his corner and whips him into the buckles, tagging in Dan. They both kick their man in the belly before hooking him up for a Dual Suplex. Bobby lands hard and Dan into the lateral press. Only two as Bobby kicks out and tries to reach out to his partner, close but so far away. Dan cuts him off with an elbow to the small of the back and gets him in a rear waistlock. German Suplex? Not quite yet, as Dan lingers in this position. BILL HEWSON: This is a disgusting display! JACK JONES: What? The man is simply utilizing a rest hold. Bobby takes this opportunity of awkwardness to nail Dan with a reverse elbow to the head and switches on his man. Bobby prepares to send Dan back with the German Suplex, but Dan blocks it twice with his leg and grinds into Bobby's pelvis. O'Brady releases his man like he's diseased and grows red with anger. He gets up a head of steam and charges, but Dan had this scouted, and drops his man with a Powerslam. Dan covers, but again, only two. Dan whips him into the ropes and absolutely KILLS him with the Manly Lariat. He dusts off his arm and flexes the bicep while the fans boo him emphatically. Dan gives his bicep a loving kiss before dropping it across Bobby's sternum. Instead of covering, Dan does push-ups right next to O'Brady and begins spewing insults in his ear. BILL HEWSON: No call for that at all. JACK JONES: Don't hate, Hewson. BILL HEWSON: I always figured you for a Closet Man Fan, but now I realize you're completely Out of the Closet. JACK JONES: Stop using it that way. You make it sound... wrong. Dan drags O'Brady to near where Thoes is steaming, waiting for a tag, and mocks him by extending Bobby's hand, only to pull it back and club his man across the chest. Dan lays him face down and locks in The Male Grip. The Camel Clutch variation looks rather painful, and O'Brady is in a world of pain. Could this be it? Thoes has seen enough and runs in to give Dan a mafia kick to the face. LANCE: (screaming from outside the ring) NOT THE FACE! Dan is distraught and runs to his corner where Thor consoles him before tagging himself in. Thor grabs Bobby by the leg just before he can make the tag to his partner. Bobby hops around on one leg before going for the enziguri. Thor has it scouted and ducks, narrowly avoiding contact and holding on to the leg. O'Brady responds with a mule kick that gets Thor in the chops, and the hot tag is made to The Scottish Wrecking Machine. He responds by lifting Thor in a choke before tossing him half-way across the ring. Dan rushes in only to be dropped with a Powerslam. Thoes gives a Celtic war bellow and the crowd is behind him. Thor is still the legal man and Al clubs away at him before setting him up aaaaand... Powerbomb! Al makes the cover, but Thor has enough to kick out at two. Al applies his own version of The Male Grip, the Power Chinlock! Before he can really sink himself into the move, Dan comes in and nails Thoes with a mafia kick to the face of his own. JACK JONES: Payback's a he-bitch! BILL HEWSON: I really need to consider retirement after watching this. Thoes isn't fazed much and taunts Dan before dragging Thor into his own corner and tagging in O'Brady. Bobby to the top. BILL HEWSON: They could be going for the Celtic Crusher here! Dan won't allow it, as he's back in to interfere and save his partner. Bobby takes flight and drops Dan with a cross body block as Thoes gets backdropped to the outside. Bobby into the cover, but Thor breaks it up with an elbow drop. Team Man with the Double Team Spinebuster. Each man to his opposing corners as they wait or Bobby to get to his feet. JACK JONES: Manwich time! BILL HEWSON: I really hope not. Bobby stumbles to his feet and they unleash at Lance's signal. Leland Conrad and Al pull Bobby out of the ring by his leg at the last possible second, and Team Man collide into one another, bumping heads. Thor is down and Dan is in pain, checking his beautiful face to see if he's busted open. Bobby pulls Dan outside as Al slides into the ring. Bobby wants to whip Dan into the steel post, but Dan switches on him into THE MANEATER, right on the thinly-padded concrete. Inside, Thoes has just dropped Thor with the Haggisbuster and covers. Dan is still concerned about his face and Lance comes over to help console him. One... Two... Three! Dan slides in too late as Thoes rolls out of the ring and helps Conrad lift his unconscious partner. FRANK WARBURTON: Here are YOUR winners, the CELLLLTIC ASSASSINS! BILL HEWSON: Good to see the Celtic Assassins pick up the win, but Dan totally destroyed Bobby O'Brady with that vile Maneater. He may be concussed or worse! JACK JONES: How dare they hit Dan in the face like that. He could have bruised a cheekbone or worse! And poor Thor had to take that nasty Scotsman's ass in his face from that move. Disgusting and wrong! BILL HEWSON: I'm sure it's nothing a glass of ligonberry juice couldn't fix. JACK JONES: You know you love Thor's Balls more than anyone else.
BILL HEWSON: I find it hard to believe that Predator and Jason would chase Chris Pronger out of town. JACK JONES: Are you saying the Internet is lying? BILL HEWSON: Sure. The "Internet" is lying. "Killing in the Name" of blares over the speakers. The fans rise to their feet to salute Decapitator Axe, who is accomplanied by his brother Diamond, for his last NAPW match. BILL HEWSON: And what a farewell this could be for the Decapitators! For Axe to win the Kiniski Cup in his final match... JACK JONES: Would take an act of God. "The Number Song" replaces Rage Against the Machine (check that, nobody can replace Rage Against the Machine, no matter how hard Audioslave may try... sorry [EDITOR'S NOTE: Hellooooo! Audioslave isn't trying to replace RATM, yeesh. They're a completely different band! Let the boys move on! Guff.]) as Patrick Bickle, along with Mr. Maps, make his way to the ring. FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen! This match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Kiniski Cup! Currently in the ring, to my left. He weighs in at two-hundred and forty pounds. Accompanied by his brother Diamond, and making his last appearance in NAPW... Decapitator Axe! Huge pop, the fans chant "Please Don't Go", and "Cena Sucks"... Just because. FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent. Weighing in at one-seventy five pounds. He is accompanied by Mr. Maps. He is the Pure Honor Champion... This! Is! Patriiiiiiick Bickle! Boos for him, mostly. The two men meet at the center and shake hands. Referee Morgan Smythe makes sure the understand the rules, and calls for the bell. Not even a second later, Bickle has slapped Axe right in the mouth! Axe, surprised, responds with a smack of his own. They trade chops. Then they work their way to palm strikes. The crowd is getting frenzied early as they trade blows! And now they're trading forearm shots, but neither man is giving in! But Bickle, showing no regard for his own well being, grans Axe and headbutts him! Axe is staggered, Bickle delivers another headbutt. Then another. And one more for good measure. Bickle is now on wobbly legs, but Axe is busted open, and slumps to the ground. Bickle regains his balance and goes for a knee strike to his prone opponent, but Axe is alert enough to duck, and Bickle sails into the turnbuckles! Diamond pounds the mat to get the fans behind Axe! BILL HEWSON: A huge flurry of offence from both men! But it looks like it's going to haunt them, as things have slowed down. Axe stalks his opponent, who turns around into a stiff chop to the chest. Axe follows up with a huge suplex, and goes for the pin! One... only one as Bickle kicks out. Axe slaps on a headlock, and Bickle immediately grabs the ropes. FRANK WARBURTON: Patrick Bickle has used his first rope break. Axe drags Bickle to the center of the ring, and goes for another headlock, only Bickle elbows Axe in the gut, then lifts him up for a back suplexÉ...no, actually he just drops him. JACK JONES: Bickle damn near dropped Axe on his head! He just doesn't care! About himself, or his opponents! Diamond is on the ring apron to yell at Bickle for trying to maim his brother, but referee Morgan Smythe is quick to step in and send Diamond to the back. The fans don't like this, but rules are rules. She turns around to see Bickle punch Axe. Axe, on instinct, punches back. So Bickle throws a punch. Axe throws a punch, and Smyth gets between the two men! FRANK WARBURTON: Axe and Patrick Bickle have each been penalized ONE rope break. BILL HEWSON: Both men forgetting what kind of match they're in. Axe and Bickle lock up. Bickle ducks under, runs to the ropes, and bounces back with a clothesline. Axe goes down, Bickle covers! One... Axe puts his foot on the ropes? FRANK WARBURTON: Axe has used his second rope break! JACK JONES: That made no sense! Axe should have been able to kick out easily! BILL HEWSON: Axe seems to be taking a page out of Bickle's book. Both men have one rope break each left! Axe hits Bickle with a European Uppercut that snaps Bickle's head back! He kicks Bickle in the gut, then goes for a vertical suplex! He holds it for about five seconds, then lets Bickle crash to the mat! Cover! One... Two... Bickle barely kicks out! Axe is frustrated. He lays some kicks into Bickle, as Smyth yells at him. Axe stops, picks up Bickle... He's going for the Axe Effect! If he hits this it's over! No! Bickle grabs the top rope! FRANK WARBURTON: Patrick Bickle has used his last rope break! Axe smiles. He grabs Bickle's arm and twists it over the top rope. Then he pulls back. Bickle is in pain, but referee Smyth can do nothing. The ropes are in play, and no five count will save Bickle! JACK JONES: Axe is blatantly cheating! BILL HEWSON: Afraid not Jack! You know the rules! JACK JONES: Screw the rules! Mr. Maps is yelling at Bickle to give up, as Axe pulls back on Bickle's arm with all his might. Axe gives another twist, and Bickle slumps down. His arm at an awkward angle. Smyth goes over to check on Bickle as a hushed silence comes over the crowd. Axe goes over to check on his opponent. BILL HEWSON: Bickle's shoulder may be separated. We need help out here, now! Axe is trying to see how bad Bickle is hurt. A match is a match, and despite everything, you never want to injure your opponent. As he leans in, Bickle's eyes shoot open. He delivers a palm thrust to Axe's windpipe, and rolls him up. With his bad arm! Axe grabs the ropes, and Bickle slides out of the ring! FRANK WARBURTON: Axe has used his final rope break! JACK JONES: It's all even now! BILL HEWSON: What is Bickle doing? He's yelling at Mr. Maps. Mr. Maps is trying to get Bickle to go back to the locker room. Live to fight another day. But Bickle has only five words for Maps. BICKLE: Snap it back in place! BILL HEWSON: He's not serious... Mr. Maps looks like he's going to be ill, but Bickle is insisting. Yelling. So Maps does what he's told. He grabs hold of Bickle's arm and ... POP Collective wince from the audience. Axe's eyes go wide as he sees what his opponent just did. Smyth actually pauses in her count. But Bickle gets back in the ring. He and Axe go nose to nose. Bickle looks like he's smiling. And Axe? ... He's got a grin growing on his face too. And then he gives Bickle a headbutt for his trouble, and quickly follows up with a body slam. Cover! One! ... Bickle grabs Axe and rolls him over for a cover! One! ... Axe reverses ... One! ... Bickle reverses One! ... Axe Reverses One! ... Bickle reverses One! And finally they roll out of the ring! Axe grabs Bickle, whips him into the barricade --- no Bickle reverses, and Axe crashes instead! Bickle follows up with a kick to the face! Axe is down! Bickle rolls his opponent back into the ring, and covers! One... Two.... NO! Axe kicks out! Bickle now looks wide eyed! He tries to get Axe to his feet, goes for a suplex... Axe counters, goes for a suplex of his own. No wait AXE EFFECT! He nailed it! And he goes for the cover! ItÕs all over! One! ... Two... Thr- NO! Bickle kicks out! BILL HEWSON: How in the HELL did Bickle kick out of that?! Axe is wondering the same thing. He tries to go for another Axe effect. Bickle slips out of the move. Axe grabs him, whips him into the ropes, and BICKLE COMES BACK WITH A SPEAR! OUT OF NOWHERE! Axe crumples, Bickle with the cover! One! Two! AXE KICKS OUT! Neither man giving up! Both men are exhausted, and slowly get to their feet. Axe is first, he tries for a clothesline, Bickle ducks, AND HITS ANOTHER SPEAR! Only this time, he takes no chances. Bickle goes to the top rope--- FREEFALL! ON HIS INJURED SHOULDER! Both men are out as Bickle weakly crawls to cover. One... Two... Three. FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner, and STILL the holder of the Kiniski CupÉ PATRICK BICKLE! Both men are exhausted and damaged on the canvas. Slowly, the volume rising, the crowd begins to applaud fervently. Axe is up first, Bickle somehow pulling himself up by the ropes. The Decapitator has his hands on his hips, looking at the man who just defeated him. He sticks his hands out, and Bickle shakes it before collapsing to the canvas and rolling out of the ring, aided to the back by Mr. Maps. BILL HEWSON: Axe came so close, so very close in this physically intense Pure Honor title match... Jack Attack, this is the end of an era right here. The Decapitators, ladies and gentlemen! Diamond is in the ring now. In a show of great respect and love for the crowd, he removes his wrestling mask, the volume rising. The Decapitators look overwhelmed by the outpouring of support... there are tears in the eyes of Axe and Diamond. The camera stays with the ovation for a moment longer, and then... cuts backstage. Doing some last-minute pumping-UP? It's D!. And suddenly, who walks into the scene? The gum-chewing, towel-holding, smirking Evan Cartwright. D! and Cartwright lock eyes, both staring intently. Evan chews. ARROGANCE~! D!: Can I help you with something, peanut? EVAN CARTWRIGHT: Oh no, just checking out the man who decided to duck my challenge here tonight and wrestle a the one-and-six wonder Carter Owens. Heh. He doesn't look like that much. D!: Hey, I challenged Owens first. You snooze, you lose. Shouldn't you be trying to get your tag titles back with William? You could start at the bottom, I know Stiff Competition aren't wrestling tonight. EVAN CARTWRIGHT: Oh, SNAP, you got me. Why would a perfect wrestling specimen like myself need to artificially inflate my record with easy wins like that? I'm asking YOU, cos that's what you seem to be doing tonight. Come on D!, I know I'm no Uzi or Chopper... D!: You know what? Fine. Fine. My dance card's full til Get The Hell Off Our Lawn, but I'm free this Friday night. You and me, on Action!. Let's do this thing. EVAN CARTWRIGHT: (scoffing) Excuse me, did you just say "Action!"? Let's get something straight here, Mr. "Champion Of Champions." The wrestling world wants to see Evan Cartwright... vs D!. Now, D! vs whatever chump you want a cheap win against, sure, take it to Action!. But we're talking "Perfection" Evan Cartwright vs D!. That's a main event ANYWHERE in the world, daddy! Don't insult me! D!: Then you'll just have to get in line like everybody else. It starts around the corner. Meanwhile, while you're waiting for me, I'm going to Barrage the crap out of your old pal Devastation next week, and then after that? I'm going to regain MY NAPW Championship at GET THE HELL OFF OUR LAWN. Right now? I've got something else you don't have. A MATCH. Cheers, peanut. D! storms out of the scene, grinning. Cartwright glares daggers after him, spitting out his piece of gum. Fade.
BILL HEWSON: ... I can never look at a walrus again. WELCOME back to Tuesday Night Fights! Our next contest is about respect. It's about pride. And it is most definitely about HONOR. Let's go to the ring.
"Let the world crash love can take it! Skillet's epic power ballad "A Little More" blasts through the speakers, heralding the arrival of a focused Carter Owens. He seems somewhat surprised to hear a strong, favorable crowd reaction. He looks over the crowd briefly before striding to the ring intently. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Coming down the aisle, from Toronto Ontario! He stands six-feet, five inches tall and weighs in at two-hundred and sixty-five pounds... Carrrrrrter OWENNNNNS! JACK JONES: Why are these idiots cheering the guy, anyways? He's got ONE victory. ONE. That's not a record to respect. BILL HEWSON: These NAPW fans respect the way Carter Owens carries himself. The revolution may be dead thanks to Ravager, but Owens has carried himself with dignity and...well, with honor. JACK JONES: And look where it's got him. The worst losing record in NAPW, and match with D!. Hello! Who tries to snap a losing streak against the Champion of Champions? BILL HEWSON: Certainly, a lot is on the line in this contest. Carter Owens is much, much better than his record says. Tonight could be his night... Hold on. Wait. "Riiiight...before...my... EYES!" RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES! And SPRINTING to the ring his black t-shirt/blue jeans/flame Harley boots combo is the CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS himself, the enduring NAPW icon! D! BILL HEWSON: ...but you're right, Jack Jones, he's in there with a man who is ranked as one of the top singlers wrestler in the entire world. And that's a tough road to hoe for anybody. FRANK WARBURTON: AND HIS OPPONENT! From Edmonton Alberta, he weighs in at two-hundred and ten pounds, standing five-foot ten! He is the Unorthodox Old Schooler... and the REIGNING TEAM Wrestling Champion of Champions! THIS! IS! DEEEEEE! D! slides into the ring and pumps up, bounding off the bottom rope. Owens stands back in his corner and out of D!'s way, as the man himself hits all four corners with his CoC title belt held high. Finally, D! comes down and passes the belt to the timekeeper. DING DING DING. Circle to start, D! with a quick feint to test Owens' relexes. Now into a lock-up, the bigger Owens converting to a headlock. D! throws elbows, breaking free and hitting the ropes. Owens with a back body drop, D! leapfrogs and keeps running, this time Owens drops to the canvas, D! runs over him, D! rebounds again, he's got some speed and nails a flying forearm, HBK style. Owens is quick to his feet, but D! is ALL. OVER. HIM. The fists are flying! The feet are flying? A BARRAGE? Not quite, but Owens is trying to cover up because he can't block all the strikes! Owens staggered --- D! winds up! Da Big Roundhouse of D!oom connects, sending Carter Owens into the turnbuckle. D! gets some space, and starts running in place. Charging, charging... he's off! D! FLIES with the Stinger Splash --- and Owens drops low! D! crashes sternum first into the top turnbuckle and bounces off, landing on the canvas in pain! JACK JONES: Ha! BILL HEWSON: D! is so deadly with his strikes, so high impact in his offense, but that time he got caught. And now Carter Owens has to go on the offensive, he can't let D! get his breath. Owens drops an elbow into D!'s chest, and then picks the man up for a big, quick pendelum backbreaker. D!'s front and back is being attacked... and Carter Owens grabs the legs, grabs the head, and rolls back with D! for a Bow-And-Arrow lock! D! yelling in pain as Owens wrenches back, his knees across D!'s back and arms pulling on the knees and head. Referee Henry Andrews asks D! if he wants to quit, D! does not... Owens keeps the pressure on for another ten seconds until he can't hold D! up there anymore, letting him down. But quickly, Owens picks D! up, front face-lock... doublelegfishermanbuster. D! CRACKS down, jolting the neck and spine, and here's a cover... only a two count before D! kicks out. Carter Owens picks D! up, standing headscissors. It's either the double-powerbomb or 11:52, he flips D! up --- D!! PUNCHES! HIM IN THE HEAD. D! on Carter's shoulders, throwing right hands into Carter's mush. He spins around on the shoulders, drops down, grabs the neck, and CRACK. Lungblower connects, a vicious backcracker showing that D! is all up ons the hottest indie wrestling moves. D! throwing some damage towards the back of Carter Owens, say as payback. No cover, as D! slowly pulls himself back up. Ut oh. He's got that look in his eye. If it was WWF No Mercy for N64, this is when his 'Special' taunt would go off, because the man has his second wind. Owens is slow to his feet, and that means that D! can boot him in the gut. And again, and again... JACK JONES: Oh no, not this again, I HATE this move! BILL HEWSON: This capacity crowd is singing the can-can, and Carter Owens is not entertained! JACK JONES: Of course he's not! He's being KICKED in the STOMACH. REPEATEDLY. By man in steel-toe Harley boots. HELLO. The Rockettes Kick Of Doom finishes up, and then D!... BAM. DDT! Carter is down, D! covers, one, two, Carter Owens gets a kick out. D! pulls Owens up, Owens with a sudden burst of energy. He takes over on D!, irish whip, D! counters, here comes Owens--- D! Hits the PLAGUEBUSTER! D! looks over his man and makes a quick decision, he goes for... PLEASANT CYCLING! D! has locked on his submission maneuever, and Carter Owens has suffered damage to his back! JACK JONES: There's nothing pleasant about that, Bill Hewson. BILL HEWSON: Carter Owens needs to make the ropes! But he's in the center of the ring with nowhere to go! Owens is in pain, the crowd's volume noisy, they don't know what they want to happen, they're just caught up in the contest! D! is rearing back, screaming "TAAAAP! TAAAAAP!" Because he's just that damn awesome. Owens is holding on, teeth clenched. The pain is excruciating, but he's trying to hold on. He begins to move, can he do this? Half the crowd is chanting "LET'S GO D!", the other half chanting "LET'S GO CARTER." Owens using his size advantage to reach...reach...REACH... He's got the ropes. BILL HEWSON: He's got the ropes! Carter Owens is still in this thing! D! lets go of the hold at the bequest of Henry Andrews, then gets that sly smile on his face. He backs off, holds his arms out to the side and signals that it's time for a BARRAGE, baby. A BEAT-O-BARRAGE. Owens pulls himself up, in pain. He turns around... HERE COMES D! WhatwhatWHAT --- Suddenly, Owens has D! twisted down and has a CROSS ARM-BREAKER ON D!. D! in pain! He could tap out! Owens has the move locked on, but D! kicks out his leg to get it on the bottom rope, and this time the ropes break the hold for D!. Owens with that move out of nowhere, he almost took D! out with it. Each man takes his feet, eyeing the other warily. D! hits the ropes, Owens looks to back body drop, D! sunset flips, Owens doesn't go down, he drops down for ONE, TWO, D! flips him over, ONE, TWO, both men back up, D! lets FLY with a roundhouse kick that's side-stepped WHAM. D! blinks in disbelief, realizing that he's nailed the REFEREE with a stiff roundhouse! Henry Andrews is DOWN and out! BILL HEWSON: Andrews in bad position, and he got his clock cleaned by the educated feet of D! There's no referee in this contest! JACK JONES: What, you think that was an accident? D! knows he can't win without cheating! BILL HEWSON: I'll ignore you. D! with a look of shock on his face, but Carter Owens spins him around! Owens with the lariat, D! ducks---NYQUIL DRIVER! HE TAKES HIM DOWN! D! covers ONE, TWO, THREE, but there's no referee! D! slaps the mat angrily, and goes over to shake Henry Andrews... cue the man. CUE THE SEXY BEAST. IT'S EVAN CARTWRIGHT, KIDS! Evan slides into the ring and it's a ROARING elbow right to the back of D!'s head, knocking him down! Evan Cartwright hoists D! back to his feet, pats a dazed D! on the face and... KABLAM. HUGE, HUGE jumping uppercut to the jaw of D! JACK JONES: ...TOASTEEEE! D! staggers to the ropes, hits them and bounces off... right into a SAMBO SUPLEX by Evan Cartwright! He plants D! in the center of the ring and then grabs Andrews, shaking him to wake him up. Cartwright slides out of the ring, grinning at his handiwork. Carter Owens is up, looking at the prone D!, sparing a glance towards Andrews struggling to his feet, flicking his eyes towards the gum-chewing Cartwright yelling "Pin him, you big dummy! He's all yours!" And Carter Owens... Holds out a hand to D!. JACK JONES: What are you doing?! PIN HIM! WIN! WIN! BILL HEWSON: That's NOT how Carter Owens wants to win, that's not what he's about! He's not going to take this match because of Evan Cartwright, he's going to take it clean --- and that's the only way! JACK JONES: He's going to LOSE again because of his idiotic honor! Evan Cartwright is looking on with a look of disgust "Pin him! What are you, stupid?" But Owens helps D! to his feet, D! giving him a strange look. The CHAMPION of CHAMPIONS looks at Owens, who backs up two steps. He's giving him time. Andrews is up, he doesn't know what went down. Carter Owens eyes D!. D! eyes Carter Owens. And then... THEY GO AT IT. D! fires a palm strike, catches Owens, Owens gets sent down, D! with a SHINING WIZARD attempt, Owens ducks, D! splats, Owens grabs the man and puts him position! 11:52... D! counters! Backslide! One! Two, Owens gets out, D! charges, Owens with a roll-up, one, two, D! counters and gets Carter's shoulders down, one, two, Owens breaks free, D! gets up, he leaps up for a VICTORY ROLL--- he spins around, rolls Owens... Owens puts on the brakes though, catching D! with HIS shoulders down! ONE! TWO! ... my God, it's three! FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner... CARRRRRTERRR OWENNNNNS! BILL HEWSON: He did it! He did it! The losing streak is over--- Carter Owens has beat the number one contender, the Champion of Champions! JACK JONES: I can't believe it! I am in a state of complete disbelief! That didn't just happen! BILL HEWSON: A wild exchange of near-falls between these two, and Owens caught D! when he went for a victory roll --- wait just a damned minute! Evan Cartwright just attacked an exhausted D!! Now come on! Evan grabs D!, he's got him in the Boston Crab! Evan Cartwright wrenching back, but look out for Carter Owens! Owens hits the ropes, comes off and lariats Evan Cartwright down --- Cartwright lets go of the crab and avoids the lariat at the last second. He drops and goes LOW, nailing Owens right in the junk... CARTWHEEL! Wheelbarrow Suplex on Carter Owens! JACK JONES: You tell ME why that man doesn't have an NAPW Title shot, Bill Hewson! Evan Cartwright has wreaked havoc on D! and Carter Owens. The good kind of havoc! BILL HEWSON: He's so damned proud of himself... I wish he'd spit that gum out already! What an arrogant piece of work... D! and Carter Owens slowly gather themselves together as Cartwright backs up the aisle, a cocky gum-chewing grin on his face. D! and Owens look at each other, D! obviously pissed off, but nonetheless - the two men with a quick handshake. D! flips over the top rope as Carter Owens looks out from one corner, a slight smile at the corners of his lips. Cartwright at the top of the apron, quite pleased with himself... BILL HEWSON: Evan Cartwright can't take away the victory Carter Owens earned here tonight, but something tells me that we haven't heard the end of the issue between these three men. We'll take a commercial break, but when we come back: Sick Billy Kryenik! Bruce "The Beast" Richards! And it's NEXT.
FRANK WARBURTON: The next match is scheduled for ONE FALL, and there are NO DISQUALIFICATIONS, and NO COUNTOUTS! Making his way to the ring, weighing in at TWO HUNDRED and FORTY-ONE POUNDS, from Windsor, Ontarioo, representing VIOLENCE INTERNATIONAAALLL, this is SICK! BILLY! KRYYYEEENNNNIIIIK! "United Ninety-Three" plays as Kryenik walks down to the ring to a chorus of jeers. JACK JONES: That's the man who's coming out victorious tonight, Hewson! Former tag team champion, and part of a group that you DON'T want to mess with! Billy is in the ring, jawing at some fans in the front row, as Public Enemy blasts out of the speakers. A more receptive cheer breaks out as Bruce Richards hits the stage. A sign saying "WE WANT CHARTS!" is shown. FRANK WARBURTON: AND HIS OPPONENT! From St. Albert, Alberta, weighing in at TWO HUNDRED and SEVENTY POUNDS, one half of the New and Improved D-X, this is BRUUUCE! "THE BEEAAAST!" RIIIICHAAARDS! BILL HEWSON: And here I thought that Bruce Richards was your man. JACK JONES: Oh, don't get me wrong, Hewson, Richards is a HUGE beast, but he's used to the tag team scene. When's the last time he had a solo match? November! BILL HEWSON: That's true enough. At least Richards doesn't have to deal with Violence International, who have been banned from ringside by Commissioner Winchell. It's just these two men here. JACK JONES: Right. There's no chance that a group like Violence International would EVER take advantage in a no DQ situation. Smarten up, Hewson. Bruce gets in the ring, evenly staring down Billy Kryenik. Morgan Smythe calls for the bell, as Kryenik and Richards launch themselves at each other! Right hook by Kryenik! And one from Bruce! Back and forth punches between these two men! This is not going to be a beautiful match, folks! They're grappling with each other, each man trying to get the upper hand. Headlock by Sick Billy, and Bruce pushes the former tag champ into the ropes, and then a punishing clothesline by the Beast! The Beast wastes no time climbing on top of Kryenik and throwing punches onto his face. Smythe gives Bruce a warning, but what can she do? It's no-DQ! Bruce picks up Kryenik, and throws him into the turnbuckle. Bruce runs at Kryenik, and gets some air! An avalanche by the bigger Bruce Richards!- CATCHES NOTHING BUT TURNBUCKLE! Kryenik dropped to the floor, leaving nothing for the Beast to hit! The Beast is down on the mat, clutching his chest, as Kryenik rolls out of the ring, grabbing the leg of Bruce Richards. Kryenik wraps the leg around the post, and torques Bruce's leg! Bruce is crying out in agony, shaking his head. JACK JONES: Brilliant tactical move by Kryenik! Bruce can't go for many high risk moves if he has no leg to stand on! Kryenik rolls back into the ring, and whips Bruce into the opposite turnbuckle. LARIATO! And now Bruce is put on the top rope. Billy grabs Bruce's head and drops down to the mat, where Bruce connects with Kryenik's knee! Hot Salvation! That's not going to do the Beast any favours! The Beast has been battered! And Billy keeps on dishing out the beating! Kryenik rolls out of the ring, and fishes under the mat for... a steel chair? He gets back into the ring, about to clock Bruce in the head, but Smythe grabs a hold of the chair and wrestles it from Kryenik. Sick Billy turns around and argues with the ref. It might be no DQ, but the referee isn't going to let his use a foreign object if she doesn't have to. Billy is poking Morgan, trying to intimidate her into giving back his weapon of choice. The crowd cheers as Bruce starts to get up, unnoticed by Billy. "If you don't give me back my-" Billy is hoisted over Bruce's shoulders, as Bruce starts pulling down on the head and legs of Kryenik! TORTURE RACK! Shades of Lex Luger! Billy's crying out in pain as Bruce torques the back on Sick Billy for all it's worth! But what's this? At the ramp, out comes Krusty Kid Paul. BILL HEWSON: Oh, god, what's he doing here? JACK JONES: What do you think, Hewson? Violence International is sending a message to Bruce Richards! Bruce notices KKP, and drops Kryenik as Paul starts walking down the ramp. But out bursts Stylin' Kyle Roberts, who just nails Paul! Polarizer! Kyle Roberts just took out KKP with a Polarizer on that steel stage! Out come Deathrow! Kyle begins to brawl with him! Bruce is crawling over the rope, but Kyle's shouting at Bruce to stay in the ring. "I've got this! You win your match!" It's both Deathrow and KKP taking on Kyle Roberts solo, but out from the back... comes Rex Caliber! The crowd pops as Kyle and Rex fight the rest of Violence International down to ringside. Bruce runs to the back rope, and GODS! NO! Suicide plancha takes down KKP, Deathrow, Kyle and Rex! The fans are on their feet as bodies are everywhere in this match! Smythe can't count Bruce out, but Kryenik exits the ring, and brings Bruce in the hard way. Irish whip and a SUPERKICK nearly takes Richards' head off! The zebras run to ringside, trying to bring everyone back into the locker room. Kyle's helped up by an official, and Cartwright nails him in the back of the head! They brawl like cats and dogs out the curtain! Same with Rex and Deathrow! BILL HEWSON: Finally, some order's being restored here! Rex and Deathrow still have to WRESTLE each other tonight! JACK JONES: Who would have thought that D-X would get some help in the form of the FORMER champ, Rex Caliber? Billy Kryenik calls for it to be over! He picks up Bruce, puts the bigger man on his shoulders! That's got to be difficult, but Kryenik has mustered the strength somehow! ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP! Bruce crumples to the mat, as Kryenik rolls him over and gets the one, two, NO! Bruce gets his shoulder up, and Kryenik is shocked! Kryenik pins again! Bruce kicks out at two! Kryenik is frustrated and signals for the move to end all moves, the Dry Lake! The crowd boos as Kryenik gets Bruce into position, but Bruce counters with a back drop! Bruce picks up his opponent and Irish whips Kryenik to the ropes WITH AUTHORITY! Kryenik tumbles out through them the hard way! Bruce has a look in his eyes! He rolls out of the ring to where Sick Billy is laying, right in front of the announcers' table. Bruce picks up Kryenik, and puts him between his legs. Good God, no --- POWERBOMB THROUGH THE ANNOUNCER'S TABLE! And Kreynik lands in an ugly heap, the back of his neck snapping back against the guardrail. Kryenik's broken, and so's the table! The crowd replies with HOLY (BLEEP)! HOLY (BLEEP)! JACK JONES: What the hell has Bruce Richards done? BILL HEWSON: You can't control the Beast, Jack! He's gone feral on us! Bruce pulls Kryenik out of the wreckage, and throws him into the ring. Bruce slides in and covers. One! Two! Thr-NOOOO! Kryenik, somehow, kicked out! Bruce picks up the prone Kryenik, and wants to finish this once and for all. Bruce hoists a limp Kryenik to his shoulders --- and shockingly, the crowd's calling for one thing! CHART ATTACK! Kryenik is thrown to the mat with force, and Bruce drops onto Billy for a one, two, three! FRANK WARBURTON: Your winner! BRUCE! THE BEAST! RICHAAARDS! BILL HEWSON: Bruce Richards showed his beastly side, and I'm sure Billy Kryenik didn't want any of it! He's still laying in the middle of the ring! JACK JONES: Uh, Hewson. BILL HEWSON: Violence International didn't get the victory here tonight against one of their fiercest opponents! JACK JONES: Hewson? BILL HEWSON: I guess Bruce showed everyone that he's not just the tag partner of Stylin' Kyle Roberts! JACK JONES: HEWSON! Look! Kryenik's not moving! He's just laying there! Morgan Smythe is at the head of Kryenik, speaking to him, and she calls for the EMTs. The crowd is still cheering The Beast (bizarre), who looks over his fallen opponent with a sudden concerned look. The crowd begins to quiet as Morgan again yells for EMTs. The Beast leaves the ring, throwing a single glance back towards Kryenik. BILL HEWSON: Ladies and gentlemen, we appear to have a very serious situation here... William Kryenik has not moved since being put down by The Beast at the end of this match. JACK JONES: You know what it was, Hewson. It was when The Beast powerbombed Kryenik into our freaking table! Kryenik's head hit the guardrail behind us, and he didn't put up a fight after that. EMTs hit the ringside area. To the silence of the crowd, Billy's head is carefully restrained as they begin to put him on a gurney and push him out of the arena. The audience begins to clap, applauding powerfully as Kryenik is rushed through the curtain. And out of sight.
BILL HEWSON: If you're just joining us, just moments ago "Sick" Billy Kryenik --- William Kryenik --- was taken from the arena to the hospital. In a brutal match against The Beast, Kryenik appears to have suffered a neck injury... JACK JONES: It's funny, Bill. We're talking about a guy who's been in TaiPei Death Matches, a Stairway To Hell match, falls count anywhere... all the violent, sick matches Kryenik's been in, and it's one powerbomb through a table that puts him on a stretcher. BILL HEWSON: Whether you like a man or hate him, nobody wants to see a professional wrestler injured like that. Bruce Richards had a score to settle tonight, a point to make, but I don't think crippling a man was in his mind. JACK JONES: He is THE BEAST, Bill Hewson. BILL HEWSON: But...the show must go on. We've got what will hopefully be a better Pure Honor match than last week's coming up here next. JACK JONES: Better than that Ravager/Bickle fiasco? Yeah, I hope so too. BILL HEWSON: What, are you the personal announcer for the F*NAPW now? JACK JONES: You just might be on to something, Hewson. BILL HEWSON: Now... take a look at this! The man who earlier tonight scored a huge, huge upset pinfall on D!... Carter Owens! The man said that he would watch this Devastation/Mentiroso match to ensure no funny business occurs again in a Devastation Pure Honor match. But the question is, will D! let this match happen in peace now that Devastation has accepted his match challenge? JACK JONES: D! or Carter Owens, either man better not try anything funny, or I might have to take him down. Downtown, Hewson. BILL HEWSON: I'd love to see that, Jack Attack, I really really would. The Mexican national anthem begins to play to a cheer from the crowd and El Mentiroso steps out from the back to a loud ovation. He begins to make his way down to the ring as Frank Warburton does the announcing. FRANK WARBURTON: This next contest is scheduled for one fall and is under the Pure Hono- BILL HEWSON: Oh, no, not again. Harvey Garcia-Buffer, the F*NAPW's own personal ring announcer has made his way down to the ring right by an irked El Mentiroso. Buffer gestures and then finally grabs the microphone from Frank Warburton and waves him out of the ring. BILL HEWSON: El Mentiroso deserves to be announced to this match properly, not the joke that Garcia-Buffer is going to- HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: This next contest is a PURE HONOR MATCH! Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds and wrestling out of Mexico City, Mexico - he was the first ever NAPW Pure Honor Champion and is the face of the Pure Honor division today! Give it up for the masked man, the leader of lucha, the Mexican Sensation.... EL! MENTIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- JACK JONES: Listen to that rolled 'r', Hewson! I'd like to see Warburton do that! HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: RRRRRRRRRRRRROSO! A confused El Mentiroso steps into the ring and looks at Garcia-Buffer, who walks over and offers the masked man his hand. Mentiroso shakes it, still not looking quite sure what to make of this situation. Specs, the ref for this match - of course - walks over and shakes hands with the luchadore as well. BILL HEWSON: Devastation really has his crew laying it on thick here tonight. JACK JONES: If by "it" you mean honest and true respect, you've got that right! Now shutup, this next is my favorite part. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: And next, his opponent- "Fire Water Burn" blasts and is almost drowned out as the crowd lets their displeasure be known. Devastation walks out from the back with a huge grin and pats the heavy "F*NAPW" belt over his shoulder proudly as he makes his way down to the ring. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: Fighting out of Boston, Massachusetts and weighing in at an absolutely astounding three hundred and six- Devastation looks towards the ring and shakes his head, holding up five fingers. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, three hundred and five pounds! He's dropped one pound off an already incredible physique, can you believe it? What an inspiration to fatties everywhere! He stands at a towering six feet eight inches in height, but instead of playing for the NBA all-star team he is here with us tonight. He is the Hybrid Icon! He is the Vicious Phenom! He is the Alpha AND THE OMEGA! And he is the only World Champion in the NAPW today, holding the F*NAPW World Championship - this IS DEEEEVVVVVAAASTAAAAATIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOON! Devastation steps into the ring and hands the belt off to Specs, immediately striding across the ring and holding out a large hand to El Mentiroso. Mentiroso takes it and Devastation pumps his hand enthusiastically, slapping Mentiroso on the back and wishing him a good match. Specs returns to the center of the ring, clarifying the rules. Devastation holds up a finger and seems to be asking him a question on the finer points of the Pure Honor division, which Specs gladly explains to him. The crowd is booing already as Devastation nods and thanks Specs for the knowledge. Specs nods and sends the two combatants back to their corners and then calls for the bell. JACK JONES: This is going to be great! BILL HEWSON: If the match takes as long as those introductions, we might not have time for anything else tonight! The two men meet in the center of the ring and immediately go into a tie-up. Devastation with the quick advantage, twisting El Mentiroso's arm into a hammerlock. Mentiroso fakes the back elbow and then reverses into a hammerlock of his own but is almost immediately caught by a thunderous back elbow that isn't a fake. Devastation turns out of the hold and switches it into a standing wristlock, pushing El Mentiroso over backwards. Mentiroso slowly bends back under the strength of the Vicious Phenom until his shoulders are touching the mat. Specs takes a moment to notice then slowly crouches down for the pin; One! Two! Mentiroso bridges back up! Devastation looks surprised at the strength and flexibility of the Mexican Sensation for a moment, then he bunches his arms and shoves down hard, dropping the bridging Mentiroso hard to the mat but breaking the hold. Mentiroso rolls quickly to his feet and ducks under a quick clothesline from Devastation. El Mentiroso kicks Devastation hard in the side of the knee twice, then delivers a spinning back kick to the stomach of the big man. Devastation stumbles backwards and El Mentiroso comes in with a hard forearm shiver - Devastation comes up and answers with a big right-handed haymaker! The crowd boos as the closed fist nearly takes Mentiroso out of his boots, sending the Mexican Sensation crashing down to the mat. And Specs - it looks like Specs missed it, no warning! BILL HEWSON: Oh come on! Devastation might as well have hit him with a hammer! JACK JONES: Hey! The F*NAPW didn't ask the ref to miss the call! What do you expect him to do, take a disadvantage and the warning by just telling him what- wait, what is he doing? Apparently exactly that as Devastation grabs Specs and says something to him, smacking a closed fist into his palm. Specs shrugs and points towards Garcia-Buffer. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: Devastation has been issued a warning for the use of a closed fist! The crowd is just flat-out confused now and Devastation walks slowly over to El Mentiroso and - offers his hand again? Devastation seems to be apologizing to the Mexican Sensation, who shakes his hand warily. Devastation moves back to the center of the ring and drops down to all fours, gesturing for El Mentiroso to restart from the top position apparently. El Mentiroso drops down over Devastation and quickly spins around to slap in a front facelock. Mentiroso rolls Devastation over onto his back and then spins around again as Devastation tries to pry Mentiroso's hands free, this time hooking an arm in a cross-armbreaker! Devastation links his hands and quickly rolls to his knees again as Mentiroso pushes out with both legs, trying to complete the painful submission. Devastation looks like his fingers might be losing their grip under the relentless push from his opponent and any moment now - Devastation gets his feet under him! Devastation lurches upright, pulling all of El Mentiroso's weight up off the mat and then SLAMMING him back down in a modified powerbomb! Devastation with the cover; One! Two! Thr-kickout! Devastation gets up to his feet and pulls Mentiroso up with him. Devastation sizes Mentiroso up for another closed fist, but Specs warns him before he can throw it. Devastation instead spins and unleashes a killer European uppercut that sends Mentiroso staggering into the corner. Devastation charges right in after him and Mentiroso gets his feet up - No! Devastation catches the raised boots and steps back, yanking Mentiroso out of the corner to crash to the canvas. Devastation turns Mentiroso over quckly and locks in a Boston Crab! Mentiroso screams as Devastation sits back in the hold, putting all of his considerable weight into the submission. Mentiroso reaches out and grabs the bottom rope for dear life. Devastation, surprisingly, breaks the hold immediately and moves to the center of the ring. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: El Mentiroso has used his first rope break! BILL HEWSON: I hate to say it, but Devastation is taking apart El Mentiroso right now. JACK JONES: And he's doing it completely within the rules, isn't that right? BILL HEWSON: Yes, it looks that way. Mentiroso slowly gets back to his feet and moves towards the center of the ring to tie-up with Devastation again. Devastation just uses his height and power to push Mentiroso right back into the corner this time then takes a step back and raises his hands for the clean break. Devastation lunges forward with a back elbow and Mentiroso ducks out of the way, shoving Devastation into the corner instead! Stinging chop from Mentiroso, followed by another before the Vicious Phenom can cover up! European uppercut snaps Devastation's head back! Another has the Hybrid Icon staggering and Mentiroso runs across the ring, literally bouncing off the opposite turnbuckle and coming back with a full head of steam - Mentiroso leaps high into the air and comes crashing back to earth with a deadly dropkick aimed right at the knee of Devastation - No! Devastation pulls himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle at the last moment and El Mentiroso slides right under him, kicking the ring post hard and jarring both knees! Devastation - and this is rare - stands on the middle rope and then leaps off! Big legdrop across the throat of Mentiroso! Devastation stands up and shakes away the last of the cobwebs from Mentiroso's attack before dragging the Mexican Sensation away from the ropes and making the pin; One! Two! Thr-shoulder up! Devastation shrugs and stands up again, this time waiting for Mentiroso to get to his feet. El Mentiroso does so slowly and Devastation immediately grabs a hand, yanking him into a short-arm clothesline. Devastation hauls Mentiroso up again and flattens him with a second short-arm. Devastation pulls Mentiroso up to complete the trifecta known as the Rapid Fire but Mentiroso ducks! Mentiroso runs Devastation into the ropes and then - back rollup by Mentiroso with a bridge for the pin; One! Two! Thr-Devastation kicks out with authority. Mentiroso has some adrenaline going know though and he hits the ropes as Devastation gets back to a vertical base and NAILS the Hybrid Icon across the chin with a spinning wheel kick. El Mentiroso goes to the corner and leaps up to the top rope - Devastation lunges to the ropes and shakes the top! El Mentiroso staggers and then falls, crotching himself on the top turnbuckle facing outward. Devastation walks over and straight punches Mentiroso in the kidney, which Specs miraculously sees. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: Devastation has been penalized his first rope brea--- Garcia-Buffer is cut off by the sound of a BURNING HAMMER as Devastation plucks the stunned Mentiroso off the top rope and delivers his crushing finisher. Devastation with the pin; One! Two! Three! Specs calls for the bell and Devastation raises his arms in victory. HARVEY GARCIA-BUFFER: Here is your winner, by way of a pinfall after the BURNING HAMMER! The F*NAPW World Champion and the new face of the Pure Honor division! The Alpha and the Omega! The Hybrid Icon! The Vicious Phenom! DEVASTATIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOON! BILL HEWSON: A pair of cheap shots right at the end gives Devastation the victory. New face of Pure Honor my ass! JACK JONES: Watch the language, Hewson! Devastation didn't do anything that was against the rules of Pure Honor! He strategically used his rope breaks to gain the advantage and the victory! Carter Owens looks over the match, shaking his head. He turns and walks off as in the ring, Devastation offers one massive hand towards a disappointed El Mentiroso. They shake, to the furthest confusion of the crowd. Devastation hits the corners, posing with his "F*NAPW" belt. BILL HEWSON: We did not see D! out here. JACK JONES: Of course not, why should we? Devastation accepted his challenge! BILL HEWSON: And next week it will be D! taking on Devastation, one-on-one. After this week, I don't know WHAT to expect in that contest... now, when we come back, the Provincial Title will be on the line!
FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the NAPW Provincial Championship! Introducing first! He is the reigning NAPW Provincial Champion... ladies and gentlemen, the delivery man formerly known as Stein... DELIVERY MAN #100! BILL HEWSON: And what a couple of weeks it has been for The Delivery Men! First on Action!, this man #100 defeated Chris Casino for the Provincial Title. That victory was followed up by Delivery Men #1 and #2 winning the Tag Team titles from the Bi-Polar Express. And this tonight is Stein's first title defense, up against a young-man who shocked the world a couple weeks ago with a victory over the now-NAPW champion Static, young Crash Carver. JACK JONES: You said a mouthful, Bill Hewson, this match could go either way. Although we don't know how fit Carver is after that MANWICH he received a few days ago from Team Man. FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent... Break out the eighties, it's IRON MAIDEN. Whooo! And...and...huh. There's Iron Maiden blasting, but no sign of Crash Carver. Stein looks on in the ring, expressionless save for a tiny, tiny TEENY hint of confusion. Frank Warburton and Morgan Smythe exchange words, puzzled. Iron Maiden stops playing, and Warburton again brings the mic to his lips. FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent... CRASH! CARVER! THE PRISONER! YEAH! HOT DAMN! And... hm. Hm hm hm. BILL HEWSON: That's the second time he's been announced, where the hell is Crash Carver --- wait a minute! JACK JONES: That's him all right! BILL HEWSON: And that's --- that's STATIC! Crash Carver comes flying through the curtains, crash landing on the top of the NAPW's totally cool indie rampway. Fresh red blood is streaming from his face... and right behind him, to a tremendous shower of boos, is the NAPW Champion. Static. No doubt grinning beneath his mask. Screwdriver in hand. BILL HEWSON: Oh my God, we need some help out here! Static comes behind Crash Carver and pulls the man up, wrapping his screwdriver hand underneath his chin. His other hand? Holds a microphone. STATIC: So I was sitting in the back, basking in orgasmic pleasure thinking about how I killed Sexy Rexy last week, when I thought hey! I haven't screwed anybody this week! So I thought for a second, I could go after D!, but he'll get a screwjob coming on the 18th as it is, so who. WHO. WHOOOOOO... and then, after I stabbed the owl to shut it the (BLEEP) up, I tracked down "young Crash Carver" here, and well, it looks like I might've roughed him a little. It was just tough love, you know, making sure he was ready for you ol' Steinie! Steinie! Get me a danish! But it looks like there won't be a Provincial Title Match tonight, because "young Crash Carver" isn't really, you know, fit to compete. And without warning Static viciously blasts Crash in the back of the head with the microphone. Frzzzak. Crash is face-down. STATIC: Wait a (BLEEP)ing minute, Steinie! I got word from a little birdie about something tonight, so don't you fret, you'll get some of your wrestling action yourself! Turn around, you zombie mother(BLEEP)ERRRRRR! BILL HEWSON: WAIT A MINUTE! It's LLOYD REES! NO! Dammit, Lloyd Rees just blasted Stein in the face with the NAPW Television Title belt! JACK JONES: Holy hell! Three champions in one segment! BILL HEWSON: Lloyd Rees --- why is he doing this?! Last week he helped DEVASTATION, this week... he's working with Static? Or what? What is he doing? JACK JONES: Hellooooo, he's beating the living hell out of the Provincial Champion! Static - twirling the screwdriver in his fingers - is cheering on the violence in the ring as Lloyd Rees grabs a dazed Stein... and DDTs him onto the TV Title belt (DDT from the Green, that is!). And then like a flash, Lloyd Rees locks on the Conception Bay Chinlock with a crazed look on his face. Static woops it up, the sadistic evil champion that he is. Scads of officials suddenly flood the floor, some getting between Static to help Crash Carver, the rest trying to break Lloyd Rees off of an unconscious Stein. BILL HEWSON: I don't believe what we just saw! I thought Static was threatening D! tonight, but apparently he'll wait til Get The Hell Off Our Lawn for D!... Crash Carver had a Provincial Title shot, and Static took that all away from him! And then this Lloyd Rees, attacking Stein! Why? Why would Lloyd Rees attack the Provincial Champion? JACK JONES: Exactly what you just said, Bill Hewson! Lloyd Rees is the longest-reigning Provincial Champion in NAPW's history, and he hasn't gotten another shot at it since losing it a while ago. He's been marginalized, mis-used, and forgotten about, and that's bullshit in my eyes. BILL HEWSON: But this is uncalled for --- let the man go, dammit! These two men make me SICK. Some joker in the back plays Static's "Crimes" theme song, as the man himself has walked halfway down the aisle, spastically cursing and insulting the front row fans. In the ring, Lloyd Rees won't let go of the chinlock, officials trying to pry him! In the chaos, NAPW cuts to a commercial.
And to a chorus of boos, out walks the SEXIEST SUPERSTAR IN SUPERSTARNAPW SUPERLAND... That's right, kids, your pal and mine, SIR THOMAS DEATHROW. JACK JONES: This week, The SUPERSTAR is attired in the finest black track pants, and is that a "Cannibal Corpse" original t-shirt he's wearing? Ladies, look out, Tommy Deathrow is on the prowl! BILL HEWSON: Oh yeah, he's a real fashion plate. Thomas does a little turn on the catwalk --- yeah, on the catwalk, yeah --- he does his little turn on the catwalk and then rolls into the ring. FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is the NAPW Tuesday Night Fights MAIN EVENT, and it is the STREET FIGHT! Introducing first, from St. Paul Minnesota... at six-foot three inches tall and two-hundred fifty-four pounds, he is one half of the SEXY ADORABLE DRUNKS...ladies and gentlemen, your role model and mine, SUPERSTAR Tommy Deathrow! BILL HEWSON: ... Frank seems somewhat in awe of the Superstar. JACK JONES: All Hail King Booker! BILL HEWSON: Wrong show, Jack Attack. JACK JONES: All hail the SUPERSTAR! Tommy's music cuts out. The crowd waits with bated breath. THEN "MORE HUMAN! THAN! HUMAN!" BILL HEWSON: And here comes the former NAPW Champion, this one's not going to wait any longer! Caliber's fired up from his skirmish earlier tonight with Violence International! DING DING DING rings the bell, seconds behind REX CALIBER taking Tommy down and punching him straight in the frickin' head! REPEATEDLY. Thomas rolls him over, now he's on top, punchpunchpunch. Deathrow gets up and grabs his crotch, sneering at the crowd. He turns around and cold-cocks a rising Rex Caliber in the bandaged forehead, irish whip, Deathrow with a lariat --- REX! REX-TEE-OH! The STO puts Thomas down, Caliber following up --- going for the Nexus Cloverleaf! Tommy fights and claws to prevent being turned over, so Rex switches up, changes the positioning, and catapults Tommy straight over the top rope to the concrete below. Rex takes a second to SCREAM for the crowd, who respond with INSANE POP YEAH. JACK JONES: He shouldn't even BE wrestling, look at the bandage over his forehead! Static carved him up last week! BILL HEWSON: Jack Jones, as long as Rex Caliber is BREATHING, he will try to get back to this ring! He's been doing it for months now, and a low-life creep like Static isnt going to keep him away from the ring. GOOD GOD, Rex sends Deathrow into the guardrail! CRASH. Rex hooks the face-lock, snap suplexing Deathrow on the concrete. The Superstar curses profanely in response to THE PAIN, OH THE PAIN. Caliber now grabs the nearest steel chair and folds it up, storming back over to Deathrow. SWING Deathrow ducks, Rex NAILS the steel ring post. Rex tees up and SWINGS again, this time smashing the concrete as Deathrow rolls out of the way in the nick of time. Deathrow taunting Rexy: "Come on, bitch, hit me!" Rex rears back and swings for the fences; Deathrow with a LOW BLOW. The males in the audience collectively "Oooh" as Rex sinks to his knees. Deathrow grabs Rex by the head and, oh dear, he's uh... well, thrusting towards Rex's face. Standing headscissors, DEATHROW DRIVER on the outside! Rex Caliber backdrops Tommy down onto the concrete, a look of utter disgust on his face. Well, it's more like RAGE and then RAGE with some disgust. Did we mention yet that Rex Caliber is pissed the frick off? Great. He is. Deathrow is back up, and now Caliber comes at him ... Deathrow catches him and hip-tosses Rex Caliber INTO THE RING STEPS. JACK JONES: Holy hell, Caliber... holy hell! BILL HEWSON: Rex Caliber fighting in a wounded state, and that didn't help his situation one iota. And when you're against Tommy Deathrow, you don't want to give up any openings... or you're liable to get the crap kicked out of you! Deathrow reaches underneath the ring and pulls out... the singapore cane. Fitting. Caliber takes his feet, swaying, CRACK. CRACK CRACK CRACK. Caliber is still standing, but clearly in pain from those cane shots! Tommy reaches down and holds the cane between Rex's legs? Cane-assisted suplex, also killing the nuts of the Nexus One! JACK JONES: Well... you have to target SOME body part. BILL HEWSON: Come off it, Deathrow --- oh no, what's he doing now GOOD GOD! JACK JONES: If Cyrus Calibre was hoping for a younger sibling, well, do I need to spell it out? Thomas Deathrow took that cane, and brought it down stupidly fast right into the crotch of Rex Caliber. Dick Kiebiech wants him to bring it in the ring, but it's a street fight --- it doesn't matter! Tommy pulls up Rex Caliber, hoists him up... WHAM. Atomic drop pick-up, Tommy throws Rex crotch-first into the steel ring post! JACK JONES: STOP THE MATCH! SOMEBODY STOP THE DAMN MATCH! BILL HEWSON: I'll agree it's awful, but aren't you over-reacting? JACK JONES: ...he's assaulting the man's PENIS. That's HORRIBLE. Somebody get me a swedish massuese, stat! BILL HEWSON: You mean Rex. Get Rex a masseuse. JACK JONES: No, get me one, I have sympathy pain like you wouldn't believe! BILL HEWSON: You poor, pathetic little man. Deathrow finally brings this into the ring, cover... Caliber kicks out. Only a two count there, it'll take more to bring down Rex Caliber. But he's being worn down, as Deathrow lays on the choke. Kiebiech, well, can't do much, but he does try to get Deathrow to lay off it. Deathrow lets go, then kneels on Caliber's throat while arguing with the ref! Kiebiech doesn't even realize what Deathrow's doing, not that it matters. Tommy's just having fun. He turns Rex over... and locks on a Camel Clutch! Rex Caliber is in a bad situation right here as Tommy sits back and wrenches; Kiebiech is checking the man. Rex seems to be fading. Kiebiech grabs the arm... it drops. Kiebiech calls one, then grabs Rex's arm again. It drops... a second time. JACK JONES: One more time and the SUPERSTAR beats the former champion! Kiebiech grabs Rex's arm once more, lifts it high, lets go, it drops --- no. Caliber's arm stays up! There is life left in him! Caliber shaking, trying to crawl...he's crawling forward! Deathrow looks momentarily panicked, he can't stop Caliber... who makes the ropes! Kiebiech forces the break, but Deathrow holds on. He won't let go! BILL HEWSON: Come on now, the man made the ropes! JACK JONES: What's Kiebiech going to do, disqualify Tommy? It's a street fight! Sure, that makes the rules confusing, but Tommy can hold on as long as he damn well wants. But wait, Jack Jones! Rex Caliber now has the middle rope...he's trying to pull up! He grabs the top rope, and the positioning is no good --- Deathrow has to let go. Rex slumps forward, trying to get some air, heeeeere's Deathrow. Tommy grabs the legs and yanks Rex backwards --- Rex kicks him in the face. Deathrow comes again, Rex gets a boot up into the man's face again. Deathrow does a spin around, then charges angrily--- Caliber !EXPLODES! JACK JONES: No, no, no, run away Deathrow! And like THAT--- REX CALIBER IS A HOUSE OF FIRE. He's throwing stiff shots in Tommy's direction, he has him on the ropes! Deathrow tries to get away, Rex Caliber is having none of that. GERMAN SUPLEX! He's holding on, getting back up... SECOND GERMAN SUPLEX! Deathrow crashes to the canvas hard! Rex isn't done, he picks Deathrow up again --- Tommy vainly makes a grab for the top rope, but Rex is too strong now. THIRD German Suplex drops Tommy on his head one more time, and Caliber makes the classic THROAT-SLASH motion. Tommy... is on DEATHROW. Oh ho ho. BILL HEWSON: Rex Caliber picks Deathrow up, he's got him on top, are we going to see it... HE HITS IT! TOTAL ANNIHILATION! All Rex needs to do is go for the cover WAIT AMINUTE---RAVAGER?! JACK JONES: Where the hell did he come from? Ravager (suit and all) slides into the ring post-Muscle Buster, and before Caliber registers what's happening, Ravager slips his arms around Rex's neck and killshimdead with the Last Resort dragon suplex. Caliber is down, hard, as Ravager looks down impassively. Tommy Deathrow is getting to his feet, groggy, but he's got enough sense in him to NAIL a quick Deathrow Driver on Caliber. The pinfall is academic. ONE. TWO. THREE. FRANK WARBURTON: Here is YOUR winner... SUPERSTAR TOMMY DEATHROWWWWW! Deathrow rolls out of the ring and starts up the aisle drunkenly. In the ring, Caliber is down. Ravager steps out of the ring to take the microphone from Warburton with an icy glare. Krusty Kid Paul comes out of the curtain to greet Deathrow, holding open beers. The SEXY ADORABLE DRUNKS bask in the victory... BILL HEWSON: Tommy Deathrow has beaten Rex Cailber here tonight, but give the assist to that man in the ring... Ravager's changed overnight. He stood for Pure Honor one day, and now this, assaulting a man in the middle of a match. JACK JONES: Ravager is an ASSASSIN, Bill Hewson. Leopards never change their spots... The crowd is booing Ravager like crazy. Caliber is struggling to get up, clearly out of it. His bandages have come off and blood is trickling from the half-healed wound. Ravager lifts the microphone to his lips, voice frightening calm. RAVAGER: I bet you're wondering Rex. Why didn't I accept your challenge, if I really wanted to attack you? I was all ready to say "Yes, I'll fight you Rex"! But then I got to thinking. It's been a while since I've had a decent fight, and I'd have hated to give you anything less than my best. I mean, what with me playing around in the Pure Honor division, trying to be a role model. And Deathrow was so eager to fight you. I figured you could wait to face me. Just like you made me wait. A whole month for a shot at the title I never lost! A whole month of standing in the background while you and D! stole the spotlight from me. Having to face Devastation and the Charitable Trust instead, only to have the match stolen. Being forced to wrestle beneath my ability, against guys who wouldn't even be curtain jerkers on Action! Watching you get your rematch on Pay Per View. Watching you beat the man I had taken to the limit only weeks before. You swooped in and picked up the pieces! And you didn't even last three weeks as champ! The crowd is beginning to toss garbage in the ring, booing Ravager. Any love they had for him has been destroyed by the arrogance, anger and bitterness in Ravager's voice. He barely acknowledges the crowd reaction as he continues. RAVAGER: Well, it's my turn to pick up the pieces. First Static. Then Deathrow. Now me. But you're not going to have to wait a month. We going to do this July 18th. Rex Caliber vs Ravager. Street Fight. You see Rex, I'm more than capable of beating you within an inch of your life. But it wouldn't be smart to do it tonight. Get The Hell Off Our Lawn. NAPW's summer spectacular. A bigger audience deserves to see me spill your blood. A bigger audience deserves to see me step back into the big time! But don't worry. It's nothing personal. Just business. Ravager throws the microphone down on the canvas and stands over Rex Caliber, who is finally out of energy. For the second week in a row, Rex Caliber is down and out... BILL HEWSON: What is going on in this place, things are coming unglued, it's chaos! Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it--- Ravager challenging Rex Caliber for July 18th at Get The Hell Off Our Lawn... We're out of time, what a chaotic show this has been! For Jack Jones, this is Bill Hewson saying goodnight! Lights down.
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