TUESDAY. NIGHT. FIGHTS.

08/08/2006

From the confines of his backstage office, NAPW Commissioner Robert Joseph Winchell the Third paces anxiously, gripping his cell phone like it tried to kill him.

WINCHELL: So according to you, there's NO Delivery Men coming tonight, which is GOOD, but that means that there's no Stein, which is BAD, because he's SCHEDULED to compete tonight.

Chirpy phone babble leaks from the phone.

WINCHELL: And all because you've taken on DOUBLE the workload? Do I hear you right, Dispatcher?

Chirpa-chirp.

WINCHELL: No, that's NOT my problem, because I've just lost one-sixth of my card tonight. Do you understand what that MEANS to me? Would you like to ask the Delivery Man that can COUNT?

Chirpa-chirpa-chirp.

WINCHELL: With the stock I own in the Edmonton Delivery Service, you SHOULD be worried. So let me make this clear--your Delivery Man One-Hundred can't show up tonight? FINE. He's a disgusting, pale freak and people change the channel when he's on, anyways! But if your employee doesn't compete when we return, August Twenty-Ninth, then YOU'LL be responsible for the consequences. And that won't be pretty, WILL IT.

Chirpa-chirp?

WINCHELL: That's right, it'll still be against a MYSTERY OPPONENT, except now it's gonna be WORSE.

Chirpa?

WINCHELL: What's worse than a Mystery Opponent? (Chuckles.) Ask the guy that can COUNT.

And with a pleased look on his face, Winchell snaps his cell phone shut, relaxes to a stop, and then rolls his smile into a devilish grin.

WINCHELL: Now. What OTHER smart decisions can I make tonight?

BILL HEWSON: Tuesday Night's hotter than Hell in EDMONTON, ALBERTA, CANADA, and in the Polish Hall, it's downright VOLCANIC! Welcome to NAPW Tuesday Night Fights, everyone, I'm Bill Hewson--

JACK JONES: SECURITY! SECURITY! Those fans are waving table legs at me and LEERING!

BILL HEWSON: --and my colleague's name is Jack "Attack" Jones. There are fans with weapons as far as the eye can see, that's because of our main event, Ravager versus D! in a Fans Bring the Weapons Match for the NAPW Heavyweight Title! But that's not the ONLY title match tonight, in fact EVERY TITLE is being defended.

JACK JONES: Not EVERY title--the F*NAPW Title's not being defended!

BILL HEWSON: It's like I said. Every TITLE.

JACK JONES: I'll leave it to Devastation to pound some sense into you. But with that creepy Stein sitting at home scared, it's wall-to-wall Title Action! You're gonna see The New & Improved D-X versus S.A.D., Mr. Slick versus Crusher... and entirely TOO MUCH GUNDERSON.

BILL HEWSON: Brave North T. Gunderson, putting his neck on the line twice tonight, against the incomparable Dextro for the Kiniski Cup, and against Lloyd Rees for the Provincial Title--and he's doing it... RIGHT NOW.

FRANK WARBURTON: The opening contest is scheduled for one fall... And is for the NAPW Provincial Championship!

"Up With The People" begins to play, and that is exactly what takes place. The people rise and cheer the former Thunder, now carving out a new career as North T. Gunderson. He is not alone as Tex is by his side as he makes his way to the ring. He is slapping the hands of the fans, trying his darnedest not to miss anyone in reach.

BILL HEWSON: This is his first of two title matches tonight and--

JACK JONES: It'll be the first loss of two tonight as well. There's no way that the "East Coast Sensation" will be beat here tonight.

BILL HEWSON: That remains to be seen.

FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, the challenger... he is accompanied to the ring by Tex. He is wrestling out of Denver, Colorado, and weighs in at One-hundred and ninety-nine and one-quarter pounds... NORRRTHHH T! GUNDERSOOOOONNN!!!

Not wasting anytime is the music director as "Fighting 59" marks the entrance of the East Coast Sensation, Lloyd Rees. Ol' Salty as usual is with him as the boos reign down for the Provincial Champ. The smug demeanor, and pure arrogance can be sensed throughout the arena. This man truly believes without a shadow of doubt that he is better than everyone.

BILL HEWSON: This man has some balls on him.

JACK JONES: You said you had seen him earlier today, but to be spying on a guy, looking at his--

BILL HEWSON: I was referring to his challenge to Rex Caliber.

JACK JONES: Rex... pfft... He better run back to one of those second rate feds, because when Rees gets done with him, he'll be too embarrassed to wrestle in this city again.

FRANK WARBURTON: And now accompanied to the ring by Ol' Salty. He is the current and defending NAPW Provincial Champion, wrestling out of Bell Island, Newfoundland, weighing in at Two hundred forty seven pounds: "The Lemondrop Kid" LLOYYYYDD REEESS!!

BILL HEWSON: You know, normally we would hear a bell right about now.

JACK JONES: Yeah you're right, the last time we was absent a ref...OH NO!!!

"MORE HUMAN THAN HUMAN, SICKER THAN SICK"

Rex Caliber wearing the white and black stripes is making his way to the ring. Lloyd Rees is livid, and is going crazy in the ring. North is just stunned. Rex hits the ring and promptly calls for the bell.

JACK JONES: This is an outrage, and someone needs to do something. That bald bastard shouldn't be reffing this match.

BILL HEWSON: The match has started with a licensed ref, that's all that is required.

Lloyd tells Rex off then goes to the middle of ring, face to face with North. North receives a very disrespectful slap to the face. North responds with a shot on the legs of Rees. Rees is down and is quickly put into a leg lock. Rees catches Gunderson in the face with his free leg and North lets go. Rees goes to the ropes and North is going to nail him, but doesn't. He backs off like the true sportsman he is. Rees gets away from the ropes and Gunderson hits the ropes for momentum and... IS TRIPPED.

BILL HEWSON: Ol' Salty tripped him. Rex Caliber is yelling at him, in not too kind of words, to cut it out.

JACK JONES: Gunderson gets clumsy and everyone hates on poor Salty.

Rees takes the advantage and leg drops the back of the fallen North's head. He begins stomping the left knee of Gunderson. Gunderson is in the ropes, but Rees continues the assault, until Rex steps in. Rees backs off, cursing Rex in Newfie, so Rex didn't actually understand the words. North gets on his feet finally and Rees bounces off the ropes and is... TRIPPED BY TEX! Rex goes over to her and gives the same speech he gave Salty just a few seconds before. North looks at her disappointed. He tells her "NO."

JACK JONES: That cheating hussy, she needs to be banned from ringside. Rex needs to do his job.

BILL HEWSON: You are truly one confused guy. Too many hits to the head during your career eh, Jack Attack?

Rees gets up and threatens Tex. North could have took the unfair advantage but didn't. He waits and lets Rees see it coming. A beautiful standing dropkick that knocks the Newfie down. Rees sits up and shakes his head... SHINING WIZARD CONNECTS. North T. with the cover One... Two.. Shoulder up. Lloyd yells at Ol' Salty in Newfie. North doesn't let up, and puts a rear chin lock on Rees. Ol' Salty is trying to gain Rex's attention. Rex doesn't bite, but Lloyd thinks he does. Lloyd trying not to fade, is digging in his tights for something. He pulls out a chain and starts to strike backwards at North, when Rex grabs his hand and chain. Rex throws the chain to the crowd as North wrenches in. Rees is fading as Rex goes over to check for consciousness. But Rex doesn't get a chance as North lets go of the hold.

BILL HEWSON: Ol' Salty is in the face of Tex. North comes over to that side of the ring, and Salty backs off.

Rees is still down and hurt. Gunderson returns to where Rees is at and Rees is swinging at air, while on his knees. Gunderson runs for another shining wizard only for Rees to block it. Rees has a hold of North's legs and puts him in the Lance Cove Leglock. Rex looks at him and tells him to stop copying the Nexus Cloverleaf. Rex checks on North as the opportunistic Rees gets extra leverage from the ropes. But Rex sees the ropes shaking and spots the cheating immediately. He makes Rees break the hold. Rees gets in Rex's face, and Rex doesn't back down. Rees spouts off some stuff only to hear Rex reply: "Do you Speak English, or do you just speak bitch?" Rees acts like he going to nail Rex, only to have Rex put his jaw out and dare him. With all of this going on North gets behind Rees and school boys him. One.. Not even two. Rees is up quickly and eats a superkick- Wait no he doesn't. He has the foot of North and sweeps the other leg. He kicks the left leg, trying to do further damage. He grabs the legs and executes a front flip pin. One... Two.. Tex grabs Rex's foot. She hides down. Rex goes over to that side of the ring and sees her. He is about to say something when hears something behind him. It's Ol' Salty sliding in a chair. Rex rubs his head in disbelief. Rees is up confused as well. Rex throws the chair at Ol' Salty. North gets up and BLACKOUT!! Rees is out. North covers with one arm.

One...

TWO...

THR---FOOT ON THE ROPE!

BILL HEWSON: Somehow, some way Rees got his foot on the rope.

JACK JONES: It's the survival instinct that Rex Caliber and North T. Gunderson lack.

North looks exhausted and discouraged. Rex checks on Rees who replies with a one finger salute. North and Rees get up. Both look weary and both look his opponent in the eye. It's the feeling you get in the fourth quarter of a tie ball game, with a minute to go. The adrenaline rush has to push you through the match. Rees and North circle each other. North attempts to shoot for a leg, only to get clubbed in the head. North then gets hit with the DDT from the Green. The cover by Rees, with feet on the rope for good measure.

One...

Two...

REX SEES THE FEET!!

He stops the count and Rees is absolutely livid. North is barely moving. North gets picked up by Rees who motions to Rex to watch. WABANA BUSTER!! The cover...

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!!!

FRANK WARBURTON: The winner and STILL NAPW Provincial Champion: "The Lemondrop Kid" LLOOYYYDD!! REEESS!!

BILL HEWSON: What a hard fought contest, where Rex had to curve the attempts at cheating. Rees was impressive, winning cleanly for a change over a young rising star.

JACK JONES: The action isn't over, look in the ring..

Rex and Rees have a stare down. The fans are going nuts thinking of these two tearing into one another. The tension is building and... Ol' Salty tells Rees to wait till he is fresh. Boos begin to reign as Rees walks out of the ring. At the entrance way we see Tex helping North to the back.

BILL HEWSON: Was it me or did Tex looked a bit more concerned than usual?

JACK JONES: She better be, Dextro is going to destroy what's left.

BILL HEWSON: It seemed more like she was extremely worried.

JACK JONES: Like you can read women. You can't even read a coloring book.

BILL HEWSON: And you can't read our outro... folks, it's time for you to see some ads, when you come back, it's a red-hot Crusher challenging Mr. Slick for the TV Title! BE THERE!

We come back from commercial with a shot of Krusty Kid Paul's crotch.

And yet, you can't stop watching.

The camera zooms out from its extreme close-up of the groin of KKP's ratty shorts to a less gratuitous shot of him sitting, head tilted, staring intently at his bulge. In his hand, he twirls a Magic Marker.

KRUSTY KID PAUL: I'm tellin' ya, Tommy, I can hardly (BLEEP)in' wait.

He looks up, speaking through the crack of a half-open men's room door.

KRUSTY KID PAUL: I'm fixin' to (BLEEP) D-X up for GOOD, man! Crack Rock Steady! (BLEEP)in' Hangover, Superstar! Break their (BLEEP)in' necks and finally take those Tag Team Titles, homey!

"Superstar" Thoms Deathrow's voice wafts in through the crack of the door.

DEATHROW: (Off.) We're gonna slide in an' out like it's Kyle's Mom's (BLEEP). Ninja ninja WHAT?

KRUSTY KID PAUL: Kyle's Mom's (BLEEP)'s gotta be like a trash barge, all old furniture and dead seagulls in there. You'd probably find a bunch of hobos or at least my dad.

DEATHROW: (Off.) Hey, how many "B"s in "Bert"?

KKP springs up from the floor, talking through the door crack.

KRUSTY KID PAUL: You're supposed to draw Bert on your wang, not write his name down!

DEATHROW: (Off.) Yeah, I know, but I've got all of this extra room, so I figured I'd give him a name tag. My schlong's so HUGE.

KRUSTY KID PAUL: (BLEEP) everyone knows it. And mine's so wide, that's why it's gonna look just like Ernie when we pull our pants down and give D-X our little Sesame Street show.

DEATHROW: (Off.) (BLEEP) Bruce Richards is gonna be so excited, he's gonna wanna hug Ernie and kiss Bert, he loves those two so much!

KRUSTY KID PAUL: Ernie's gonna turn purple and Bruce'll give him mouth-to-mouth until he pukes up.

DEATHROW: (Off.) (BLEEP)in' D-X, (BLEEP) those whores. I ain't playin' around when I say I'm gonna mess them up, Paul, you watch.

KRUSTY KID PAUL: Ninja WHAT?

KKP belches, and then turns around--right into the Man in Black, who suckers him with a gut punch, then shoves an old sock in his mouth.

DEATHROW: (Off.) Yeah, I'm gonna (BLEEP)in' dig my fingers into Kyle's eye sockets and pull those gorgeous little balls out. And what might I do with them sockets... mmmm... uh-oh, Bert's doin' a little dance. Hey, Macarena!

The Man in Black seizes KKP by the mohawk, and rams his head into the concrete wall, once, twice, three times.

DEATHROW: (Off.) But I ain't breaking his eyeballs, I'm pulling them out and leaving the stalks intact, 'cause I want him to look at me punching his (BLEEP)in' teeth out. The teeth'll give him something soft to land on when I Deathrow Drive him.

KKP desperately clutches at the Man's ski mask, but another body shot knocks him back.

DEATHROW: (Off.) Brucie's gonna have to fight real hard not to cuddle up with Kyle's hairy corpse, but he's gonna try to win it all on his own. That's when I make a chart of my own, draw it on the canvas with his (BLEEP)in' brains.

The Man in Black grabs the stunned KKP by the ears and headbutts him.

DEATHROW: (Off.) (BLEEP)in' sick of being (BLEEP)ed around. (BLEEP)in' sick of never getting my due. (BLEEP)in' (BLEEP)s held me down as a Doomrider, held me down as THE SUPERSTAR, held me down as a Sexy Drunk. It's too long for me to wai to hold some (BLEEP)in' GOLD in this fed, (BLEEP)in' something's gonna change, Ka-Ka-Pee.

Pulling KKP up, the Man In Black whips him hard into a backstage stack of boxes. The stack, as a result, collapses over him.

DEATHROW: (Off.) It's time for us to do somethin', yo. (BLEEP) what other people want.

Dusting himself off, the Man In Black eyes the restroom door, then tugs his fedora and runs away down the hall.

DEATHROW: (Off.) Paul? You there?

Meanwhile, back at ringside...

JACK JONES: Holy (BLEEP), Hewson, did you see that! The Man in Black! He may have just cost S.A.D. the match!

BILL HEWSON: We've got people moving to backstage, folks, but we can't put off the TV Title match any longer!

FRANK WARBURTON: The next match is scheduled for one fall and is for the NAPW Television Title! Coming first to the ring, from Riverside, California! Weighing in at two hundred and seventy four pounds! The CRRRRRRUUUSHERRRRRRRR!

The Crusher walks down the aisle to a few mild cheers, but he's not playing things up for the crowd. He's focused, and determined, taking powerful strides down to the ring.

"I guess that this is where we've come to
If you don't want to
Then you don't have to believe me"

JACK JONES: I don't even know why this clown's bothering to come to the ring! It's not like he's ever really shown us anything spectacular lately; why does he get a shot at the T.V. Title?

BILL HEWSON: The Crusher may not have been setting the NAPW on fire lately, but he's determined to turn that around. The way he's looking tonight, I'm sure he'll be bringing his "A" game.

"Can't Touch This!"

The mild cheers turn into a chorus of loud boos as Mr. Slick struts on his way down to the ring, the title belt around his waist. As usual, he points to his beloved title belt and screams out "Can't Touch This!", singing along to the song as the crowd chants back "You Suck Slick" every time.

FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! From from Miami, Florida! Weighing in at two hundred and sixty two pounds! He is the NAPW Television Champion! Mister! SLIIIIIIIIIICK!

JACK JONES: He'd better bring his "B", "C", "D", and "E" games if he thinks he can take Mr. Slick's title belt away from him!

BILL HEWSON: The only reason that Mr. Slick is the TV Champ is because of interference from his friend Tim and his double. Who, I might add, are nowhere to be seen, perhaps afraid of getting their commupance after their savage beatdown of The Crusher last week.

JACK JONES: Mr. Slick and his pals just took advantage of proven strategy, Hewson: if you injure your opponent badly enough before the match, he's easier to beat. Just like tenderizing meat!

Mr. Slick removes his title belt, reluctantly, and hands it over to referee Henry Andrews. The Crusher just waits in his corner, staring bullets at the TV Champ. As Henry Andrews hands the title to ringside, The Crusher EXPLODES! He charges at Mr. Slick and lays him out with a running clothesline before the bell even rings!

JACK JONES: Blatant disrespect for the opponent right there! Disqualification!

BILL HEWSON: He's just giving Mr. Slick as much respect as he deserves after last week, Jack.

The bell finally rings, and The Crusher lays into the prone Mr. Slick with a couple of boots to the gut, then helps him to his feet. The Crusher continues his assault, giving Mr. Slick one, two, three hard chops across his chest, backing him all the way up into the ropes. Irish whip into the far ropes, and Mr. Slick comes back running, straight into a stalling suplex! The Crusher brings him down with enough power to shake the ring! I guess what they say about physics is true: the longer you keep someone up there, the harder they fall. Mr. Slick's shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, and The Crusher bends over to pick him up again, but Mr. Slick with a low blow! Mr. Slick was crouched down behind The Crusher, and Henry Andrews didn't see it! The Crusher falls to his knees, and Mr. Slick stumbles to the ropes, pulling himself to his feet.

BILL HEWSON: Low blow! Come on, Andrews, open your freaking eyes!

JACK JONES: Hey, if the referee doesn't see it, it's not illegal. Mr. Slick just needed to get a little momentum on his side, is all.

Mr. Slick staggers over to The Crusher, who's still trying to remain upright, and slaps him HARD across the face! No respect shown by the TV Champ, as he shruggs off the referee's warning and nails The Crusher with yet another hard slap. The Crusher struggles to get to his feet, but Mr. Slick's not going to let him get completely vertical again, and gives him a kick to the head. The Crusher topples to the ground, and Mr. Slick's on him in a heartbeat, choking the hell out of his opponent. Henry Andrews starts the five-count, but Mr. Slick lets go just after four, and holds his hands up in mock innocence, giving The Crusher the opportunity to get to his feet. Mr. Slick turns around just in time, blocks a weak punch from The Crusher, and then counters with one of his own. The Crusher stands there, stunned and wobbly, and Mr. Slick irish whips him into the ropes, and lifts the biger man up and then slams him DOWN with a back body drop! He goes in for the cover, one, two, The Crusher kicks out! The challenger just won't stay down, and Mr. Slick starts stomping him in an effort to keep him on the ground. Mr. Slick lifts The Crusher to his feet, and irish whips him into the corner turnbuckle. He lifts the big man up to the top turnbuckle and then...SUPERPLEX! Mr. Slick goes again for the cover, but The Crusher kicks out after two! Mr. Slick is not a happy man, and starts to complain about Henry Andrews's slow count, and then turns around to deliver yet another blow to The Crusher--SPEAR! SPEAR! The Crusher has laid out Mr. Slick with a spear out of NOWHERE! And now the tide seems to be turning for the challenger, as he screams into the crowd. He lifts Mr. Slick up into a HARD samoan drop!

BILL HEWSON: The Crusher's getting his second wind here, folks! But wait! There's some rustling and bustling at ringside!

JACK JONES: And I think I know exactly what's causing that ruckus, Hewson!

The Crusher lays out to make the cover, but gets kicked in the head by Tim, who's crawled out from under the ring apron and slid into the ring to save his friend right at the third count! The Crusher stands up, rubbing the back of his head, and stares Tim down. Tim makes a run at The Crusher, but another spear takes him out! Wait! THE CRUSHER'S DOUBLE! FROM UNDER THE APRON! He sneaks up behind The Crusher...who's ready for him! A hard right hand from The Crusher knocks the double back a step, and follows up with YET ANOTHER SPEAR! The Crusher is just HANDING out spears tonight, folks! There are two Mr. Slicks and a Tim laid out in the ring, and The Crusher takes in all he surveys and lets loose with another loud battle cry! Henry Andrews plays cleanup duty, trying to hustle the two non-competitors from the ring, and The Crusher lifts up Mr. Slick for another stalling suplex! He holds the stunned Mr. Slick up there, using only one hand, and screams out to the crowd!

THE CRUSHER: Kill! Or be--

And The Crusher falls to the ground because Mr. Slick has just laid him out with the BRASS KNUCKLES! Henry Andrews was too busy getting the double out of the ring to notice, and he turns around to see both men laid flat out on the canvas! Mr. Slick crawls towards The Crusher, who's bleeding profusely from a cut on his head, and lays an arm across his chest! One! Two! THREE!

FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner! And STILL NAPW Television Champion! Mr. SLICK!

Not waiting around for The Crusher to come to, Mr. Slick grabs his TV Title belt and is helped out of the ring by his battered and bruised posse.

BILL HEWSON: Another disappointing piece of CHEATING by Mr. Slick! Don't go anywhere, The Tag Team Titles are on the line afer the break.

JACK JONES: WHAT? But... what about KKP? How is S.A.D. gonna win this thing with KKP out of the running? FIX! FIIIIIIX!!!!

BILL HEWSON: So after 20 minutes, you’ll have a delicious and nutritious snack the whole family can enjoy!

JACK JONES: If I concentrate hard enough, maybe I can make your head explode…

BILL HEWSON: You don’t have super powers, Jack.

JACK JONES: Not yet…

Alice In Chains blares over the speakers as Tommy Deathrow stomps, alone, to the ring.

BILL HEWSON: Tommy Deathrow making his way to the ring, but with his partner being laid out, will we have an NAPW Tag Title Match?

Deathrow is absolutely pissed off. He paces around, waiting for New And Improved D-X to make their way down to ringside. Referee Morgan Smythe goes to Deathrow to find out what exactly is going on, when “Low” plays. The fans give a respectable pop as “The Beast” Bruce Richards and “Stylin” Kyle Roberts make their way to ringside. Deathrow looks ready to take both men on.

JACK JONES: What a champion! Even though he’s on his own, Tommy Deathrow still wants to fight both men! What an inspiration!

JOSEPH WINCHELL: Um. No, this is not going to happen.

The king of the buzz kill, Commissioner Joseph Winchell III, is making his way down to ringside. And he has a mic.

JOSEPH WINCHELL: New and Improved D-X. I don’t know what you and the “Man In Black” thought you were going to get away with. But my NAPW will be about level playing fields. The Tag Team titles will still be defended tonight. But it will be a one on one match.

JACK JONES: What a brilliant decision! There is no way Tommy Deathrow should have to fight two men for the Tag Titles!

BILL HEWSON: But you said earlier that he was an inspiration for wanting to fight both men!

JACK JONES: No I didn’t!

BILL HEWSON: You did! I heard you!

JACK JONES: That’s what you get for believing everything you read on the internet…

BILL HEWSON: What internet! You were sitting right here…

JACK JONES: Shhh, our Commissioner is talking!

JOSEPH WINCHELL: After consulting with my officials, I have decided that Kyle Roberts will face Tommy Deathrow. Bruce Richards, your night is over. Get the Hell out of my ring, and if you step foot through that curtain, I will award Deathrow and Krusty Kid Paul the titles on the spot.

BILL HEWSON: Tommy Deathrow versus Kyle Roberts? Major history between these two Jack!

JACK JONES: This will not fall under the definition of “mat classic” to say the least. But who cares! These fans came to see a fight!

Major heat from the fans for Winchell’s call. Richards is fuming. Roberts manages to convince Bruce that everything will be all right. Richards slaps hands with Kyle, then makes his way to the back, stopping to stare daggers at Winchell. Winchell tries to keep his cool, but is very quick to move away, and stand in Deathrow’s corner, shouting encouragement.

BILL HEWSON: And there is the smartest thing Winchell has done all night.

JACK JONES: Will you stop!

BILL HEWSON: Don’t I usually say…

JACK JONES: Don’t. I’m feeling weirded out as is.

Deathrow forgoes the ring introduction, and quickly jumps Roberts, not even trying for a wrestling hold. It’s Superstar rules, after all. Roberts is taken off guard, and tries to match blows with Tommy, but he is quickly outclassed, and clotheslined over the top rope to the floor, as a startled Smythe finally signals for the bell to start the match. Deathrow, all business tonight, follows Roberts to the floor. He slaps on a Russian leg sweep, only he drives “Stylin” Kyle right into the ring steps. Winchell seems to like that. The fans… not as much.

JACK JONES: Look at the focus of Tommy Deathrow! No fun and games. No playing to the fans. Just smash mouth, take your opponent out by any means action!

Deathrow keeps up the offensive, applying a camel clutch. No count-out, so Smythe can do nothing, except remind Tommy that the title can only be won in the ring. Deathrow pulls back on Roberts neck, keeping pressure on the spine. The fans are trying to inspire Roberts to his feet, but Deathrow has the hold on tight. Finally, Deathrow let’s go, and rolls Roberts into the ring. He covers early! One, two! Roberts gets his shoulder up.

BILL HEWSON: Smart move by Deathrow to capitalize, but I don’t think Roberts will ever go down that easy!

Deathrow shoots a glare at Smythe that would stop a lesser person’s heart. But he knows there’s only one way to get the titles. He pulls Roberts to his feet, and goes for a power bomb, trying to destroy the already injured back of Roberts. But Roberts has other ideas, as he back drops Tommy, then quickly hits a the ropes and delivers a Lionsault! But Roberts has been worn out early, and it takes him a few seconds too long to get the cover. One... and only one. Deathrow kicks out!

JACK JONES: Desperation! That’s the only advantage Roberts has! And it still couldn’t take Deathrow down!

BILL HEWSON: Not yet. But it’still early.

Both men are feeling some pain, but Deathrow is still the fresher of the two. Both men drag themselves to their feet. Roberts lunges for a clothesline! Deathrow ducks, goes for a lariat of his own, Roberts ducks. The two men criss-cross the ring, Roberts falls flat to the mat, Deathrow jumps over, hits the ropes, only to bounce back into a fall away slam by Roberts! The fans applaud, Winchell yells something unintelligible.

JACK JONES: I think he said: “What rotten luck”. But I may have heard him wrong.

BILL HEWSON: As long as the City TV censors believe you, that’s fine.

Roberts is trying to put this match away, going for the Beartamer! He strains! Deathrow fights! But in the end, Roberts hasn’t done enough damage, and Deathrow uses his leg strength to push Roberts away. Only Roberts hits the ropes, and bounces back with a drop kick, right to Tommy’s face! Now, using the element of surprise, Roberts again goes for the Beartamer, only this time he manages to cinch it in! The fans are on their feet, as they think they’re seeing the yet another successful D-X title defense!

JACK JONES: I think Mr. Winchell sees something…

Winchell is on the ring apron. Referee Smythe yells at him to get down, Winchell says something about “official NAPW business that requires him to stand where he’s standing”.

JACK JONES: Even while watching a match, he still carries on with the day to day activities of this company! What a leader!

BILL HEWSON: What a load of…

JACK JONES: PG-13! PG-13!

Roberts just gets fed up and pastes the Commissioner in the face. Winchell hits the floor.

JACK JONES: Fire him now!

Roberts claims : “I slipped, sorry Mister Winchell sir!”

BILL HEWSON: You see, it was an accident. Kyle Roberts would never disrespect authority.

JACK JONES: Your hypocrisy and blatant favoritism sicken me.

BILL HEWSON: (flinches) Ouch. Sorry, just got smacked in the face by irony! … Look out for Deathrow!

What about Deathrow? He jams his knee into Robert’s lower back, ending any comedy then and there. Deathrow gets a sick grin on his face. He picks up Roberts for a slam… no, he positions him on the turnbuckle in the Tree Of Woe position. Winchell is up… and he hands Deathrow a chair. … This can’t be good. Deathrow positions the chair over Roberts face, hits the ropes, and races back with a Tommy Dreamer style dropkick, smashing the chair into Roberts face! Roberts goes limp, and is disentangled from the turnbuckles. He slumps on the mat, and Deathrow is loving every second of it. He signals that he’s going to finish this off! Deathrow Driver time!

JACK JONES: The fourth reign will be the shortest! All hail Sexy Adorable Drunks, NAPW Tag Champs!

But Roberts has gone limp. Deathrow tries to drag Roberts up, but Roberts is out.

BILL HEWSON: Deathrow wants so badly to hit that move, but Roberts can’t even get to his knees!

JACK JONES: JUST PIN THE MAN, TOMMY!

Deathrow tries to stay calm, but he sees victory so close. He yanks up Roberts by the hair and yells something unintelligible (but still unfit for family audiences). Roberts, quickly wraps Deathrow in a small package!

JACK JONES: No!

One…

BILL HEWSON: Yes!

Two…

JACK JONES: Not like this!

Deathrow kicks out!

JACK JONES: Thank you Satan!

BILL HEWSON: Well, at least you’re being honest for once…

Winchell is beside himself! Deathrow is in a rage! He gets right in Smythe’s face and starts yelling at her. Smythe backs up, but Deathrow keeps up the pursuit. Deathrow is too busy yelling to notice Roberts get to his feet. He doesn’t find it odd the Smythe has taken a few steps to the left. What he does get is POLAR-IZER! Out of nowhere Roberts turns the match in his favor! And the pin! One… Two… DEATHROW KICKS OUT!

JACK JONES: That is the determination that will make Tommy Deathrow a champion tonight!

Roberts is certainly surprised, but he keeps up the assault, going for the Bear Tamer yet again. …

And then the fans rise to their feet, to see who’s coming to ringside.

BILL HEWSON: Is that? No, it couldn’t be…

Krusty Kid Paul. Worse for wear. But angry. And ready to help his partner. Roberts has his back to the entrance, so he doesn’t know what’s going on. All he knows is he’s got Deathrow where he wants him. Then KKP hits a bulldog , and everything Roberts expected for this match is out the window.

JACK JONES: And now, sit back and enjoy some classic tag team wrestling!

BILL HEWSON: It’s two on one!

JACK JONES: And SUPERSTAR RULES.

BILL HEWSON: Winchell specifically said that this would be a one on one match! Bruce Richard was banned from ringside!

JACK JONES: Quiet! I want to enjoy this!

KKP and Deathrow lay the boots into Roberts, as the fans boo. Winchell is practically dancing at ringside. The Sexy Adorable Drunks whip Roberts into the ropes, and catch him with a stiff clothesline! An elbow drop from KKP, Deathrow applies TOTAL NONSTOP TOMMY! Driving Roberts face repeatedly into the mat! The fans are outraged… and they’re about to get even angrier, as it looks like they’re going for The Hangover! They got Roberts up… The fans are cheering now… wait cheering?

JACK JONES: Have the fans finally come to their senses? Are they cheering for the greatest tag team in the NAPW?

Um, no. They’re cheering because the Delivery Men have hit the ring! #2 quickly scales to the top rope, and #1 tosses him off for the Rocket Launcher, which takes a blindsided KKP out of the equation! Winchell is madly signaling for officials to come out and stop this!

BILL HEWSON: Only Bruce Richards was banned from ringside! I didn’t hear anything about the Delivery Men!

JACK JONES: It was in the subtext! Strip New D-X of the titles Commish!

BILL HEWSON: Does what you say make ever make sense to you?

JACK JONES: I sleep better if I don’t think about it.

#2 goes after KKP. Deathrow lunges at #1, gets him in a headlock and starts laying in punches. #2 and KKP brawl on the outside. Am I forgetting someone? … oh yeah, Roberts, he uses the rules to his advantage. And nails a low blow on Deathrow.

JACK JONES: CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT…

BILL HEWSON: Wow. I don’t think he’s even taken a breath…

JACK JONES: CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT…

#1 slides out of the ring, and Roberts picks up a surprised Deathrow for EMERALD FUSION! And the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

JACK JONES: (raspy voiced) I think I made my feelings clear earlier.

FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match, and still, Tag Team Champion, “STYLIN” KYLE ROBERTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd goes nuts! Roberts is too tired to really celebrate, and he wouldn’t have time anyways.

BILL HEWSON: Roberts needs to get out of there!

Evan Cartwright and Devastation hit the ring. The Delivery Men drag out a triumphant Roberts. Deathrow just realized what happened, and is tossing around anything he can get his hands on at ringside. Chairs, the ring bell, monitors.

BILL HEWSON: HEY! We need those… heh… never mind Mister Deathrow sir, carry on…

And what of Jospeh Winchell III?

Words do little justice to the look of rage on his face. While there is a celebration going on all around him, Winchell is in his own little bubble of anger. And God help the next person who pisses him off tonight…

NAPW's little-seen second interviewer, Bob, backstage with two security guards. The guards have a large barrel with them.

BOB: I'm here backstage with NAPW security guards Dwayne Willey and Tommy Asquith. Now gentlemen, I understand that you have been screening the weapons fans are bringing in tonight?

TOMMY ASQUITH: Well Bob, we don't want to impact too much on the good times tonight. But there are a few fans who seem to think that these wrestlers don't feel any pain at all. I mean, I've seen baseball bats, I've seen hockey sticks. Some guy actually brought his kendo sticks from home, and those aren't hard to come by, let me tell you. But there is a line we have to draw.

BOB: How do you mean?

DWAYNE WILLEY: There have been a lot of knives confiscated. A couple of BB guns. But then we get the more extreme weapons. Here are some of the things we confiscated without a moments hesitation.

Willey reaches into the barrel, and pulls out what looks to be two cement balls, joined by a chain. The balls have spikes sticking out of them.

DWAYNE WILLEY: Now, I know it's a no holds barred match, but this is ridiculous! I mean, how much time did it take to make this? I can appreciate a devoted fan, but my God!

Asquith reaches into the barrel, and pulls out a teddy bear.

BOB: What's wrong with that?

Asquith points the bear towards the wall, squeezes it's stomach. A bang is heard as a bullet is shot into the wall.

TOM ASQUITH: A bit too extreme.

BOB: No argument there!

TOM ASQUITH: And then there are some guys who enjoy the pain of others a bit too much.

Willey pulls a box out of the barrel. He shakes it. We hear a rattle inside. ... And hissing?

BOB: Is that...

DWAYNE WILLEY: It's a small rattler, but it's still a rattler. Granted, the guy said it was for Winchell, not the title match...

TOM ASQUITH: Yeah, he's not getting his money back for his ticket.

BOB: (a bit nervous) Well, thank you gentlemen. And to all the NAPW fans, please, be responsible tonight. Don't put yourselves in harm's way...

DWAYNE WILLEY: Ah crap, I dropped the box!

Bob screeches loudly, then tries to get to higher ground.

DWAYNE WILLEY: The box with the knives. The snake box is right..
(points to an empty box)... Oh. My. God.

FRZZZK. FRZZZK. FRZZZK. FFRZZZZZZZZKK.

Cut to Josh Reynolds backstage, where he stands with Patrick Bickle, who is just within the picture. In fact, he isn’t completely within the picture. His arm and part of his body are actually off to the right of the screen, but Reynolds motions with his hand for the camera to move, and Reynolds gets a bit comfier with Bickle.

JOSH REYNOLDS: I’m standing here with Patrick Bickle of…well…of neither the Winchell Administration, nor of those against the former “Bad Boy”, Mr. Winchell. Patrick, I’ve been meaning to ask what exactly is going on in your head? I mean…we try to understand what you’re saying, but I think even you know if doesn’t really make sense.

PATRICK BICKLE: I find it makes complete, and unflawed sense. However, I am but one, where as you represent a majority or so you would assume.

Concerning whether or not I choose to represent one side is a simple question which has been answered previously. However, for redundancies sake, I am not and do not plan on becoming a member of either side of this stand-off, this war without motion. Neither side represents a threat or a force to be watched in awe, nor do the individual members of either side.

JOSH REYNOLDS: Well it’s good to have confidence Mr. Bickle, but I think you’ll have to look at this with sense! D-X and Rex Caliber defeated you in a match, and even your opponents from the Winchell side showed a caliber, well not that caliber, of wrestling to worry about!

PATRICK BICKLE: My opponent was left on the mat, not myself. I left that ring with less of a struggle than any match thus far. Pain and suffering did not follow me from the ring, nor did they make themselves apparent. It isn’t conceivable that these men would have kept a shoulder of mine with the flat of the canvas. Those men lack the sense of the border they must cross. A chair is hardly a weapon but instead an introduction to a battle. It is as much as the war-call of a Neanderthal entering battle, it is but a noise, and these men would not stand were one of them left to fight me past the opening scene of a chair-shot.

JOSH REYNOLDS: Not to bring up a tragic and disgraceful event…but…Winchell’s side had Static attack a man with a screwdriver to the head. Is that still not enough for you?

PATRICK BICKLE: No. That is not enough.

JOSH REYNOLDS: What about Rex Caliber’s recent vouch for Static’s friendship? If he leaves Winchell’s side will you consider him further?

PATRICK BICKLE: As I’ve said --

The microphone is taken from Josh Reynolds' hands mid-interview suddenly as Static himself, the hardcore luchadore, comes from the side of the screen. Without even giving a look to either of the men he’s just interrupted he takes the moment to look at the camera.

STATIC: Winchell, I don't know what drugs you were on when you decided to leave my name off the card tonight, but I'll be damned if your high keeps me from D! tonight.

Hey D!, where do you get off, buddy? Three weeks, two championship matches, and two screwjobs since I was last NAPW Champion, and you haven't proven a damn thing to me. I hope that you beat Ravager tonight, not just because I'd like to see his ugly ass clubbed to death with whatever Joe Schlubs bring to the arena tonight, but because... oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt a pre-taped Action! sequence? Go ahead, B-list.

PATRICK BICKLE: And as I’ve said…whether or not Static is on the side of Winchell or not, he is still on a losing side, and he still remains further under any radar of my concern than I care to delve into for mere entertainment of pain.

STATIC: Ahem? Did I step into a joke?

PATRICK BICKLE: No. I do not find your mediocrity inducing of any emotion. I do not see why it should stimulate any sort of humorous response.

Josh Reynolds steps forwards a tiny step, as if to make the motions of getting between the men, but he clearly doesn’t want to step completely into a place where his presence makes a difference. Static is now looking into the eyes of Bickle, and Bickle returning the stare. Static takes a small step forward and his shoulder is now in contact with Reynolds’. Bickle doesn’t move forward or retreat any.

STATIC: It’s funny…it’s funny because-–

STATIC! Static leaped mid-sentence right into Bickle. He left his feet completely and took Bickle right off his own! Reynolds caught a piece of the blow and is to the side of the wrestlers on the ground. Static hasn’t taken the moment to collect himself, and is driving punches into Bickle’s head. Bickle pushes Static hard to one side, his shoulder connection with the nearby wall with a good amount of force. Bickle is to his feet quickly and takes a two step spear attempt! Into a wall?! Static gets his knee up! But the spear continues into the wall and both men slam hard into a wall, as Bickle takes a knee to the face to boot. And the men are still throwing punches!

FRZZZK. FFRZZZZZZZZKK.

FRANK WARBURTON: The next match is schedule for ONE FALL and will be fought under PURE HONOUR RULES! It is for the KINISKI CUP! Coming first to the ring, the challenger! Weighing in at two hundred pounds, and hailing from Denver, Colorado! He is NOOOORTH T! GUUUUNDERSOOOONNNN!

As "Up With People" plays, North Gunderson walks out once again to a crowd pop, followed by the sultry redhead Tex. He doesn't look too happy, but he's trying to stay positive about his second match of the night.

BILL HEWSON: Well, tonight, North's sitting at oh and one, after that loss to Provincial Champion Lloyd Rees.

JACK JONES: Who knows? Maybe Gunderson will have more luck in a match where it's near impossible to cheat.

FRANK WARBURTON: And the PURE HONOUR CHAMPION! Weighing in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds, from Moolieville, Minnesota, he's the former "Meth Orphan." DEEEEEEEEXXXXTROOOOOO!!

Dextro garners a mixed reaction as he enters the stage to "My Addiction." He stares down his opponent and walks down the ramp, staying away from Tex and climbing into the ring. North hops to the middle of the ring, and stick out his hand for a nice polite handshake. Dextro takes it. As the two men go to their corners, senior referee Dick Kiebiech holds up the Kiniski Cup and hands it to an official at ringside.

BILL HEWSON: This is going to be quite the match-up. Our Pure Honour champion Dextro beat the dominant Patrick Bickle out of nowhere. North has been a Pure Honour competitor ever since he came back to the federation after a lengthy break, and managed to get this title shot by beating the former champ, Bickle.

JACK JONES: He didn't beat Bickle. Bickle beat himself by bringing in that steel chair and cracking it over the head of Gunderson. Gunderson got lucky is all. And now he's flown to Newfoundland and faced down a midget fight club? Give me a break.

Kiebiech calls for the bell, and this match is ON! North and Dextro lock up, and Dextro sweeps the leg of Gunderson, knocking him to the mat. North looks surprised about this as Dextro motions for North to lock back up. North gets to his feet and it's go time! Lock up! Dex sweeps the feet of North again. "C'mon! Show me you DESERVE the Cup, North!" shouts Dextro. North gets back to his feet, but Dextro locks in a rear choke on his opponent, taking Gunderson to the mat once again. Kiebiech eyes the hold Dextro's got North in, and is warning him to break the illegal chokehold. Dextro's sneering, but releases the hold. Dex picks up the groggy Gunderson, holds out his hands, framing the challenger, and lets fly with an elbow to the face of North. North hits the ropes. Another elbow to the face of North sends North outside the ring. Tex runs over to her charge as Kiebiech starts the count. North is trying to get himself back into the game, but you can see that his previous match and Dextro's offense have him in a bad way. Four! Five! Tex hands North a water bottle and starts talking strategy with him. Eight! Nine! North seems to be refocusing as the ref hits eleven.

JACK JONES: Hey! Just count out the guy!

BILL HEWSON: Jack, you should remember that in a Pure Honour match, North has a twenty count to get back into the ring. Although I'm surprised Dextro's being this patient with OHMYGOD!

Dextro, tired of waiting, hit the ropes, and flew towards Gunderson on the outside with a senton splash! He connects, as the fans start a "Holy (BLEEP)" chant. Kiebiech restarts his count out as both men attempt to recover from that aerial assault by Dextro. North's the first to stand up. Kiebiech gets to five when North pushes Dextro back into the ring. Gunderson picks up Dextro, and a DDT to the canvas! Gunderson with the cover. One! Tw-kickout by Dex. North's not going to win that easily. But he'll just try again, this time Irish whipping Dextro to the turnbuckle. North runs at him with a big boot! Dextro ducks, and North's got his leg caught in the ropes! Dextro takes advantage, chopblocking the other leg to get North further entangled. Kiebiech tries to get North out of his predicament, but Dextro just keeps on kicking at his opponent. Kiebiech yells to Warburton.

FRANK WARBURTON: As a result of ignoring the referee, Dextro has lost his FIRST ROPE BREAK!

But Dex doesn't seem to care. He just wants to injure Gunderson. He waits as the referee finally pulls North out of the ropes, at which point Dex with a Lou Thesz press takes North to the canvas. Dex rolls North onto his front, and then applies a front headlock. North tries to wriggle out of it, but Dex wraps his legs around Gunderson's torso. North's turning blue. He's losing strength, and his attempts at escaping are becoming less frequent. Kiebiech raises the hand of North, only to have it fall to the ground. He raises the hand of North again, only to have it fall to the-no, it twists and grabs onto the rope!

FRANK WARBURTON: North T. Gunderson has used his FIRST ROPE BREAK!

The ropes save North from the submission by Dextro. Or do they? Dextro's not letting go. He's still keeping the headlock on North, even as the referee is tell him to release it. Dex shakes his head. "This is your last chance! Release North!" Dex shakes his head.

FRANK WARBURTON: Dextro has lost his SECOND ROPE BREAK!

Dex finally lets go and gets into the face of Dick Kiebiech. Dextro's being warned to behave or else he'll lose that Kiniski Cup to his opponent. Dex glowers at Kiebiech but doesn't retort. Instead, he focuses on Gunderson. He pulls Gunderson up, and lets loose! Fisherman's Suplex into a bridge pin! One! Two! Kickout by North! Dextro with an bicycle kick to the head of North! North drops to the mat! Dex points to the turnbuckle and starts to climb. The crowd's chattering here, as this seems to be the setup to Dex's 450 Splash. He NAILS it! He pins North! One! Two! Th-Kiebiech notices North's foot on the ropes and stops the count.

FRANK WARBURTON: North T. Gunderson has used his SECOND ROPE BREAK!

Dex is getting fed up. But he looks down on the prone Gunderson, and looks back to that turnbuckle again. He turns back to North, lets fly with a senton to keep North down and then climbs the turnbuckle a second time. This is it! He yells out and is going to pull out a Shooting Star Press! North's on his feet! With some sick agility, North leaps to the top turnbuckle. A STROKE from the top rope!! Dextro hits the mat face first!

JACK JONES: OH MY GOD!

BILL HEWSON: That's what North calls the Lemon-Lime Tang! It's killed Dextro dead!

North's not in the greatest of shape either, but he has enough wherewithal to cover his opponent. Kiebiech with the count. One! TWO! THREE-NO! Dextro's foot in on the ropes!

FRANK WARBURTON: Dextro has used his THIRD AND FINAL ROPE BREAK!

BILL HEWSON: I can't believe it! North had that match won, with that high risk counter to Dextro's Shooting Star Press!

JACK JONES: That's why Dextro's the Pure Honour Champion, and North isn't!

North can't believe his luck! Tex is shouting at ringside, but there's not much she can do here. Dextro's busted wide open, but his eyes snap open. He's getting to his feet. North is in shock. Dex wraps his arms around the waist of Gunderson, and a belly-to-belly suplex sends North out of the ring! North hits the concrete headfirst!

Kiebiech is counting North out here, and is up to four. North is back to his feet, and is drinking from his water bottle once more. Tex makes sure he's alright, and looks a little concerned at the goose egg welling up on North's forehead. Eleven! Twelve! North's back in the ring, and Dextro is a bloody mess, but the champion wants to win this match. North runs at Dextro and unleashes a superkick! Dextro catches the foot! He's caught the kick! North shrugs, and hits the Blackout enziguri. Dextro falls, and North covers him. One! Two! Th-kickout by Dex! North slaps the mat in frustration. Dextro runs at him with a clothesline, North ducks, and goes for a backslide pin. But Dextro's not going over the head of North. Instead, with their arms locked together, Dex turns it into a METH BUST! North crumples to the ground, and Dex covers. One! Two! THREE!

FRANK WARBURTON: Your winner, and STILL PURE HONOUR CHAMPION! DEEEEEXXTRRROOOOO!!!

Tex climbs into the ring and tends to North, as Dextro collects his trophy. North manages to climb to his feet, and puts out his hand for Dex to shake. Dex shakes it, as per Pure Honour rules, and exits the ring. What's this? Someone's crawling from under the ring, and it's not Mr. Slick's double! He's a wee man in a pinstriped suit.

JACK JONES: Ha! Look at the midget pimp! He's got a cane and everything! Now all he needs are little ladies!

BILL HEWSON: What's a midget doing here?

JACK JONES: I'm sure he's going to bite North Gunderson in the face! Then North will turn into a munchkin!

BILL HEWSON: What are you talking about?

The pimp midget climbs into the ring and advances on a battered, bruised Gunderson. Tex tries to shoo the midget away as she attempts to take North out of the ring. BANG! From behind, the midget clocks North in the back of the head. North loses consciousness as Tex hauls him towards the back. She's got a concerned look on her face as they pass through the curtain. Go to commercial!

The camera goes backstage to Patrick Kidd, who is wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt that says REBIRTH in red letters.

KIDD: I’ve been in this business for over a decade and in that time I’ve seen just about everything. I’ve seen people come and go, I’ve seen people rise and others and sometimes the same people fall. I’ve seen people give everything they got in that ring including their life. The past few years I’ve spent in a place ran and occupied by Outlaws, in a place that was full of wrestlers no one else wanted or various reasons. I’ve seen things that would make most mortal men lose their lunch, and I’ll be honest I’ve lost mine a time or two.

I’ve seen feuds involving hangings, rape, and steel chair abortions, and I’ve been a victim of some painful acts myself, but what has gotten to me is that the fans supported this and asked for me, they became bloody thirsty, and impossible to satisfy. This disappointed me to watch a place were the fans had dubbed me the “spirit” of the organization dissolve into this madness. My entire career I’ve gone out of my way to impress the fans and give them dream matches and five star matches every chance I could, but eventually it wasn’t good enough.

So I set out to remind myself why I got into this business, why I love wrestling so much when it has taken so much away from me. I went in search of a place where fans still appreciated a good wrestling match where two or more men put their hearts and souls on the line to perform for the fans. This search has lead me to NAPW where I’ve teamed with my friend Crash Carver in a few tag matches, but I really want to see what NAPW is all about and if Kidd still has what it takes to put on a five star classic. So I’m issuing an open challenge to anyone here in NAPW for a match when NAPW return on August 29th. Two men, one ring, reminding the world what this sport is all about.

Camera fades away from Kidd and back to ringside.

BILL HEWSON: Patrick Kidd, known at one time as "The Spirit of Outlaw Pro Wrestling", a man that could wrestle anywhere he chooses, now calling NAPW his home. It'll be interesting to see WHO accepts Kidd's open challenge for the August 29th show, but we've got to cut quickly backstage, we're getting reports that the wild brawl between static and Bickle may be winding down--

JACK JONES: Static and Bickle are STILL FIGHTING?

BILL HEWSON: No one actually broke them apart, Jones. What did you THINK was gonna happen with them?

JACK JONES: I thought they would vanish... to that, that place where lost teeth go... and the children from my previous marriages...

Awkward silence ensues. Cut to backstage where a sea of referees and security guards are busy pulling the two wrestlers apart.

STATIC: Lemme go, you fascists! I gotta right to tear his head off, same as any man!

PATRICK BICKLE: Little mouse, I hear you SQUEAKING! Bite me if you DARE, BITE and GNAW and CHEW--!

WINCHELL: HEY! That's ENOUGH!

Red-faced and nearly out of breath, Robert Joseph Winchell the Third bursts onto the scene.

PATRICK BICKLE: --SWALLOW and BITE and TEAR and CHEW--

WINCHELL: Hey! SECURITY! Pull this bristly psycho OUTTA here! And leave Static ALONE! He's a former NAPW CHAMPION, dammit! You treat him with RESPECT!

PATRICK BICKLE: The MOUSE with its TEETH! Here come the TEETH!

The security detail lets go of Static and join in on the Bickle effort, over-powering him, they seize him by the limbs and pull him away, struggling.

PATRICK BICKLE: Here come the FANGS! Definite, real and SHARP!

WINCHELL: GO! Get him out of my SIGHT!

PATRICK BICKLE: (Off.) HERE COME THE NAAAAAAAAAIIILLLLLSSS!!!

Irritated, Winchell's eyes follow the herd out, and then he turns back to Static just in time to stop him from walking forward.

WINCHELL: Where. Are you GOING.

STATIC: To finish what I started.

WINCHELL: No.

STATIC: I ain't backing down from that glue sniffing f--

WINCHELL: I SAID NO, DAMMIT!

Static, flush with anger, brings his face right up to Winchell's.

WINCHELL: Yeah, you listen to me, and you listen GOOD. You want Bickle so bad? Then you've GOT it. But you're gonna have to wait until August 29th because if I let you at him right now, I LOSE money. But if I put you two in a ring, I MAKE money.

A pause. Static keeps his expression unchanged, then pushes past Winchell.

WINCHELL: If you ever want to be known as more than a FORMER NAPW Champion, then you'll back off of him.

Stone-faced, Static stops in his tracks, seemingly frozen.

WINCHELL: August 29th, take him out, make me some money. And that's an ORDER. Are we clear?

Static tuns around, slowly, and walks back up to Winchell's face.

STATIC: Yeah.

He brushes past him, and heads off in the opposite direction.

STATIC: We're clear.

And Winchell breaks into a smug, satisfied smile--until a new herd of security personnel whip right past him.

WINCHELL: NOW what?

Winchell and the camera give chase to the personnel, who travel twenty feet, turn around the corner, and find a battered, bleeding Josh Reynolds on the ground.

WINCHELL: NOW what's happened? Who DID this? Who attacked you? Was it the MAN IN BLACK?

REYNOLDS: (Weakly.) No... not him, it was...

WINCHELL: WHO? Who, dammit?

REYNOLDS: (Coughs.) It was... was... Ravager.

WINCHELL: RAVAGER? What? Why would he DO that?

REYNOLDS: ... said he needed... he took...

And with a look of terror, Josh Reynolds faints.

A dimming of the lights.

A glide of the cello string.

An intense build, a furious crescendo.

As a pale, well-built man with ink-black hair steps out through the curtains, a wave of hate seethes down from the crowd.

The crowd says "Welcome back, Ravager."

And Ravager says, "Get the Hell out of my way."

BILL HEWSON: We're back, and it's time for the NAPW Heavyweight Champion match! Jack Jones, look at the White Collar Assassin, Ravager! He's set for some SERIOUS hardcore action against one of his most BITTERLY-hated rivals to date--the man called D!

JACK JONES: I know it's an easy joke, but D! ought to stand for "Dead Meat", because I haven't seen Ravager this determined to destroy someone since... well, since the LAST time he fought D!

FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and Gentlemen, THIS! IS! your MAAAAIN EVENT! Scheduled for ONE FALL, this is for the NAPW HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE! And it is a WHEEL OF DEATH, FANS BRING THE WEAPONS MATCH!

Midway down the ramp, Ravager stops, motions to the curtain, and a couple of stage hands come in, hauling in a trunk.

BILL HEWSON: Someone tell him he's missed the point.

FRANK WARBURTON: Making his way down to the ring, he is the CHALLENGER! Representing BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, weighing at TWO-HUNDRED, TEN POUNDS, Heeeere is RAVAGER!

On the steps to the ring, Ravager stands tall, giving the hostile crowd one long, cold stare before slipping in between the ropes.

JACK JONES: When that man decides on something, NOTHING else matters. He's vowed to KILL D! in that ring tonight, Hewson. Actually KILL D! Do you think that's gonna happen?

BILL HEWSON: He's violent, unpredictable, capable of ANYTHING--

JACK JONES: Just say "Yes."

BILL HEWSON: He's violent, unpredictable, capable of ANYTHING--

A couple of fans start tossing in "silly" weapons... sponges, toilet seat covers, inflatable sheep. Ravager takes the time to kick each and every one of them out of the ring.

And then.

"RIIIIGHT... BEFORE! MY! EYES!"

BILL HEWSON: All of our gluing the fans has come to ruin--FOR THEY'VE COME UNGLUED ONE MORE TIME! THE NAPW CHAMPION HAS BURST THROUGH THE CURTAINS!

He's running his mouth! He's pointing to the fans! He's smiling like a Southern preacher! He's dancing like a horse! He's walking like a robot!

FRANK WARBURTON: And heeere is your CHAMPION... he is the TEAM CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS--from EDMONTON, ALBERTA, CANADA, weighing in at TWO-HUNDRED, TEN POUNDS, One Letter, said REAL LOUD, D!

D! removes the shinier TEAM Title from his shoulder, and, twirling it in front of a young fan, HYP-MOTIZES him.

JACK JONES: Have you FUN, D!, have your "GOOD TIMES", as you call them, because the GOOD TIMES are gonna end! Ravager's your opponent, and you've got NO HOPE in HELL of surviving!

BILL HEWSON: He's climbed the top of the ladder not only for the NAPW Title, but the TEAM Title as well! What makes you think he's going to be such a push-over?

JACK JONES: Because he's making the same mistake that YOU are.

BILL HEWSON: Yeah? That's WHAT?

JACK JONES: He thinks that this is a WRESTLING MATCH.

Waggling his tongue at Ravager, D! slides into the ring, hits a set of ropes, stops, hits the same set of ropes, stops, hits the same set of ropes--

JACK JONES: Moron.

BILL HEWSON: John Sharplin is the ref in his contest, not the more veteran Dick Kiebiech, interesting to see what ramifications--if any--the officiating is gonna hold.

While Ravager quietly slips his trenchcoat to the ring crew, D! surrenders both of his title belts to Sharplin, who holds the Maple Leafed NAPW Title high above his head.

BILL HEWSON: Say it, Jones!

JACK JONES: GET YOUR TICKETS READY!

RING THE BELL! Ravager, set to pounce at D!, taking a lower shoot stance, D!, walking tall, never taking his eyes off as both men wordlessly circle themelves. Ravager feints, D! twitches, brings his fist up, Ravager shifts his weight back, neither man giving up an ounce of mental space to each other. The fans start stomping their feet, and both men keep wordlessly circling each other. D! suddenly snaps into Ravager's lower shooter stance, screwing up his face, imitating his movements. Ravager gives him the hairy eye, then stands straight, waving to the fans with a semi-retarded look on his face. D!'s face collapses, and lashes out with a boxing hook, Ravager easily dodging back. Taking his regular stance back, D! approaches Ravager again this time signalling for... a test of strength? Ravager eyes the hand suspiciously, but slowly raises his hand to his... and pulls back. D!, looking offended, points to his hand again, twiddling his fingers. Ravager sighs, and moves his hand back to lace up... and D! removes it this time. And then bleats out a Sting-like "OOWWWWWW!" in Ravager's face. Ravager grimly wipes his face down, and D! signals for the test of strength again. Ravager mutters under his breath, and raises his fingers to lace up--they lace! With their one set of hands tied up, Ravager lifts his other hand, and D! raises his to meet him, closer, closer...

And then both men simultaneously split up to slide out of opposite ends of the ring. Ravager, heading straight for this trunk, D! running for the closest fan he can find. He sticks his hand out--and gets a vase full of dead flowers. Weird, but okay. Vase in hand, D! whips around to the other side of the ring, where Ravager has pulled out a kendo stick from his own trunk. D! rounds the corner, hits the brakes, eyes an armed Ravager, grinning maliciously--and then splashes the flower stems and water in his face. Infuriated, Ravager swings the kendo stick at him, missing and smacking the ring steps loudly, while D! foots it out of there with a "WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!" Sticking his hand out, D! snatches what seems to be a greasy paper bag from another fan. Ravager, stalking D!, makes up the distance and seems intent on swinging, D! sticks his hand into the bag and pulls out... a handful of french fries.

JACK JONES: Ha! That wasn't no WEAPON... he just stole a fan's DINNER!

Undaunted, he throws the fries at Ravager's face, yelling "SELL!" They bounce ineffectually off of Ravager--Ravager swings! He knocks the bag out of D!'s hand, tearing it and spilling its greasy contents to the floor. Another swing--and D! DUCKS! BACKWARDS! A Matrix Dodge--Ravager whiffs and D! springs back up, here comes the ROUNDHOUSE PUNCH! BLOCKED! Ravager with an Outside Block, denying D! the punch, and a swift Muay Thai knee to D!'s gut doubles him over. D!, winded, sinks to one knee... almost breaking a smile, Ravager grabs D! by his exposed hair and starts yanking him up again, kendo stick in his free hand--

BILL HEWSON: --but D!'s got something in his hand! Is it? IS IT--

--A CHEESEBURGER! And D! mashes it right into Ravager's face! HARD! Ravager twitches, surprised, and with no further waiting, D! grips the kendo stick and rips it out of Ravager's hand. CRACK! D! rings Ravager's weapon right into is ribs. CRACK! Ravager grits his teeth and screams, arcing his body back--a third swing knocks Ravager to the floor! Blinded by grease and cheese, Ravager thrashes on the ground--D! raises the stick like a sword and ROARS.

JACK JONES: No. NO. This is WRONG. Ravager does not BEG and THRASH. Fire the guy playing Ravager, please.

BILL HEWSON: Hmm. DOES seem pretty meek for Ravager, but then again, D!'s lucked out with the offense so far. D!, playing to the crowd, sneaking up on a crawling Ravager like a demented Elmer Fudd...

Indeed, he's miming for the crowd to shush. Ravager, scrambling for a ringside chair, pulls his trenchcoat down and starts desperately wiping his face. D!, twirling the stick in one hand, sits steady, waiting for Ravager to turn around--and Ravager does, whipping the trenchcoat at D! D! catches it easily with the stick--but Ravager closes in the distance--AND SPRAYS D!'S EYES.

D! SCREAMS.

And losing strength in his legs, collapses onto his butt.

JACK JONES: THIS. IS. AWESOME.

BILL HEWSON: Is that--THAT IS.

JACK JONES: Mace. Which he took from Josh Reynolds. A can that D! BOUGHT for him.

Clawing at his eyes, D! starts thrashing on the ground, while Ravager wipes the last of the grease out of his eyes, the crowd. SCREAMING. HATE. Ravager sniffs at them and casually strolls over to D!--kicking him with a sledge-like BOOT. And then a field goal kick to his RIBS. Ravager hauls him up again, and then smashes D!'s head against the guard rail. AGAIN. AGAIN. And picking him up, Ravager grips him by the shirt and rams him, shoulder-first, against the ring post. Yelping in agony, D! collapses against the ringside floor.

BILL HEWSON: Oh, LORD. Oh, MERCY. D!'s been maced--MACED, Jones, and he's practically DEFENSELESS!

JACK JONES: Cry, cry, cry! In a Fans Bring the Weapons Match, anything goes!

BILL HEWSON: But that's not a FAN weapon! It belongs to JOSH REYNOLDS!

JACK JONES: Josh is a Ravager fan.

BILL HEWSON: No, he's NOT.

JACK JONES: Then explain the mace, Bill.

Ravager pulls D! up again, getting behind him for a waistlock--and then it's a FALL-AWAY SUPLEX... D! flying spine-first into the RINGPOST.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

BILL HEWSON: Uh... okay, where do pinfalls count?

JACK JONES: In the ring.

D!, having hit the ringpost like a rag doll, flopped back down to the thin ringside mats, landing on his face. Ravager flashes his teeth, then scoops D! up to bundle him back into the ring. Sliding in after him, Ravager covers the shoulders and Sharplin starts the count--

ONE!

BILL HEWSON: Not like this.

TWO!

BILL HEWSON: Not like THIS!

And Ravager breaks his own cover, scowling.

BILL HEWSON: NOT LIKE... um, okay. Thanks?

JACK JONES: Remember Ravager's vow? He's going to KILL D! And from where I'm sitting, that emo wuss is still BREATHING. There's MORE work to do!

To ravenous boos, Ravager blows his nose out on D!'s inert body, then hops through the ropes to the outside. He turns to face his weapons trunk a few feet away, and starts heading off, when some fan--in a Minstrel mask of all things--reaches out and grabs Ravager's hand, shaking it.

JACK JONES: Oh, THAT'S trouble.

The Minstrel fan pumps Ravager's hand, shaking it like a geeked-out fanboy. Ravager shouts at the fan, fighting to extricate his hand--and the crowd starts going BANANA. Ravager's ears perk up, and ignoring the fan, he starts scanning around the house--emerging from the OTHER side of the house...

THE MAN IN BLACK.

JACK JONES: AAAAIEEE! SECURITY!

The Man In Black snatches a bottled water from a fans' hand, and hitting the ring, he grabs D! by the head, and starts... lightly slapping him? Ravager goes to rush the ring, but the fan is still holding his hand... the Man pops the water bottle open, and starts flushing D!'s eyes out, as the crowd goes wild! So Ravager LOSES it--and pops the Minstrel fan right in the mask. The fan goes reeling backwards, laughing... Ravager slides into the ring, and the Man in Black BAILS, rolling out before Ravager can catch him. Ravager starts snarling threats at the interloper from the ring, following him as he walks around, meekly demonstrating his water bottle. The crowd starts picking up again--

JACK JONES: Behind you! BEHND YOU!

--because standing shaky on his knees, D!, RED EYES AND ALL, IS UP.

BILL HEWSON: And now he's PISSED.

D! unleashes! Roundhouse Punch! Roundhouse Punch! Ravager is rocked against the ropes, unable to fall, and now D! seizes Ravager by the arm, whipping him against the far ropes--CAUGHT! Ravager stops himself! But a FURIOUS D! charges him, unleashing with a

SNAPT.

D! recoils, stunned, and flops over backwards. Ravager looks out at his hand, stunned. Having lashed out instinctively, Ravager seems bout as stunned as anyone to discover that he's holding a shiny steel cane.

BILL HEWSON: When he shook that fan's hand--

JACK JONES: Yeah, that was some "fan", all right.

Incredulous, Ravager turns to ringside and starts scanning the house--wherever the man in the Greek mask went, he's gone now. Just as the Man In Black has run out.

He shrugs. Oh well.

And starts whaling on D! wih the metal cane. The shots sting D! back to life, yelping with every blow. D! quickly covers up his head, and then fights to get to his feet. Ravager winds up, and swings two-handed... CAUGHT. D! snatches the cane in mid-air, and with a hefty tug, yanks the polished implement out of Ravager's hand. D! flashes a smile, and advances on Ravager with his new weapon...

SNAPT.

D! looks at his hand, wondering why he's now holding a chain of colourful scarves. RAVAGER! BOOT TO D!'s GUT! DDT! Ravager hit the DDT, and D!'s down again! A hook of the leg, for the TITLE!

ONE!

TWO!

SHOULDER UP!

BILL HEWSON: That's not Ravager breaking that count, NO! D! broke the pinfall!

JACK JONES: He's just begging for more PAIN! Ravager chose to show mercy--he won't show it now!

Grimacing, Ravager floats over to D!'s head, and flips him over to his belly. Hooking D! by the arms, Ravager brings his knee up--and brings it smashing DOWN. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. UFC-style knee strikes to a weary, beaten D!'s skull. One final knee, and Ravager rolls off of him and out of the ring, right by his trunk. Ravager flings the lid open, and starts cycling through his weapons.

BILL HEWSON: Oh, no! Light tubes!

JACK JONES: Oh, yes! A hammer!

HEWSON AND JONES: OHHHHH A STAPLE GUN.

Ravager looks at his staple gun... and smiles. He rolls back into the ring, implement in hand... and despite how loudly the fans scream, nothing prevents Ravager from walking over to D! and shooting a staple right between D!'s shoulder blades. CHUNK.

"HOLY SHIT!"

D!'s body arches in pain, and he lets out a scream. Ravager presses the gun to D!'s shoulder blade. CHUNK.

"HOLY SHIT!"

And pressing his foot down on D!'s chest, he presses the gun right to D!'s forehead, right to the flaming exclamation logo on his toque.

And staples the toque to D!'s forehead. CHUNK.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

D!'s arm lashes out, slapping Ravager's foot off of his chest, and then throws himself overboard from the ring, practically landing on his head. Ravager, knocked to his butt, simply raises his gun again. And smiles.

BILL HEWSON: This has gone too far. Somebody STOP TH--

JACK JONES: NO. Just because this is an outcome YOU DON'T LIKE doesn't mean it's wrong.

At ringside, D! starts thrashing wildly at his toque, clawing at the fabric.

JACK JONES: Bring the staples! Bring the blood! This is HOW IT'S GOING DOWN.

Pulling the back of his toque over his head, D! finds it gets caught on the staple on his forehead.

JACK JONES: What did that Bickle freak say?

And D! yanks, freeing the toque, but keeping the staple in his bloody, scarred forehead.

JACK JONES: HERE COME THE NAILS.

His eyes streaming tears, his forehead gushing blood, D! stands up. Ravager smirks, and starts wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. D! EXPLODES! He slides into the ring--Ravager starts pump-kicking him, but D! won't stay down! Both men standing--Right hand from D! Right hand from Ravager! From D! From Ravager! D! Ravager! D! D! D! ROUNDHOUSE PUNCH! D! drops the White Collar Assassin with Roundhouse Punch! Ravager picks himself up--ROUNDHOUSE PUNCH! And as Ravager picks himself up, D! seizes him, and whips him HARD into the corner! He backs up, runs his fingers across the stapled gash in his forehead--and RUNS FULL-TILT AT RAVAGER! STINGER SPLASH! Slamming his chest into Ravager's face, both men tumble out of that one. D! pulls himself up, picks Ravager up, and drapes him across the top rope. He takes a running start, bounces off of the opposite rope, and rebounds into ANOTHER Stinger Splash--carrying BOTH men up and over the top rope!

JACK JONES: AAAUGH! NO!

BILL HEWSON: SORRY, UNLESS YOU'RE CHANTING "HOLY SHIT", I CAN'T EXACTLY HEAR YOU!

D!, a bloody, wild-eyed mess, picks himself gingerly up from the floor and his opponent... and then a fan hands him a CHAIR. The crowd goes wild, as D! raises the chair above his head--CLANG. A shot to Ravager's chest. CLANG. A shot to Ravager's FACE. That busts Ravager's face... HARDWAY. D! lifts the chair up once more, Ravager is NOT out, Ravager is fighting his way to his fee, D! gripping the chair, shaking like a leaf--

"D!"

Something distracts him.

"D! PLEASE! I'M HERE!"

He looks at Ravager. He looks at the crowd. He looks at Ravager. He looks at the crowd.

"LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE!"

He tosses the chair onto Ravager, and then walks down the length of the security rail, to a young blonde woman, stretching her hand out, holding out a box--

JACK JONES: What's THAT? What's THAT?

--and snatching it, he looks at Jean in the eyes, and mouths "thank you."

Spinning around, he spies Ravager picking himself up, clutching the chair that D! discarded. He rips the box open, pulls out a black piece of leather, and slides back into the ring.

Ravager follows him into the ring, chair at the ready.

And D! pulls his old flame-eyed lucha mask over his bloody face.

BILL HEWSON: You're--he KEPT THAT THING?

JACK JONES: Look at his girlfriend, Hewson. He wouldn't throw ANYTHING out.

Ravager swings with the chair--D! reaches for the chair--they've BOTH got it, neither man wants to give it up! Ravager, his pale face dripping blood from a smashed nose, D!, bloody eyes peeking out from underneath a flame-eyed lucha mask, the crowd is on their feet--Ravager with a swift kick to D!'s gut, Ravager scoots the chair underneath his chin, and looks to smash his head down in a hardcore jawbreaker--D! clutches onto a rope and stops the ride! And now a kick of his own! And another! And another... that gets the crowd SINGING.

JACK JONES: NO! Stick the Rockettes Kick of Doom up your ASS!

Suddenly, Ravager seizes D!'s boot--D! whips around, DRAGON WHIP--DUCKED! Ravager circles his waist, he's looking for a German Suplex--he pops those hips, and D! flies back--free! Flipping out of the Suplex, D! lands on his feet, behind Ravager--

JACK JONES: No! Not a Sleeper--

BILL HEWSON: --it's a NYQUIL--

--DRIVER! Ravager is down--ON THE CHAIR! Ravager just took a NyQuil Driver onto the chair--he looks OUT! D! slowly rises to his feet, shaking, his eyes staring wildly into space--

JACK JONES: He's not going for a pincover?

BILL HEWSON: That would be TURNABOUT, Jones.

D! stares down at Ravager... and blows his nose out on him... then starts climbing the turnbuckle.

JACK JONES: What's he thinking?

BILL HEWSON: What's he THINKING? Think his win over Mr. Amazing! Think Philadelphia!

At the top of the turnbuckle, D! finds his balance--and triggers a thousand flashbulbs.

BILL HEWSON: Think about D! flying.

The NAPW Champion dives...

falls...

and slams his elbow into Ravager's heart.

COVER!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Everything ERUPTS. As loud as the riot, as vibrant as the Cruise... as rich as blood.

FRANK WARBURTON: HERE is your WINNER, an STILL NAPW CHAMPION, DEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Looking like he's due to collapse, D! rips off his mask--

JACK JONES: YUCK! Keep it ON, you FREAK!

--and falls to his hands and knees, barely stronger than Ravager lying on the ground. John Sharplin kneels down beside him, asks him a question, and in response, D! sticks out his shakey fist. Sharplin raises it, D! drawing in ragged, sharp breaths.

JACK JONES: Three weeks. Now I've got to deal with D! being the NAPW Champion for another three weeks.

BILL HEWSON: Folks, tune into NAPW Tuesday Night Fights on August 29th, we'll be back, and better than ever! And what happens next to D!, what happens next to Ravager, what happens next to that NAPW Title--we'l be bringing it to you, LIVE! Good night, and God Bless.

Fade to Black.