Jimmy Peckman: "And now, we're on to our Main Event!"

Larry Dots: "Both of our competitors have battled it out tonight, through thick and thin just to get to this point. Now, for one of these men, it will all be in vain!"

Jimmy Peckman: "What's this? Ladies and Gentlemen, we're receiving word that this battle is already in progress! We've got camera crews on their way to the scene!"

Larry Dots: "Where?"

Jimmy Peckman: "I'm not quite sure, Larry, I'm not quite sure..."

[A long corridor bounces around your television, as the cameraman sprints down a hallway. There's a lot of commotion, but no wrestlers in sight.]

Jimmy Peckman: "My God, we figured that this would be a bloodbath -- but where have these two psychopaths decided to start? Remember, Ladies and Gentlemen, that this is a No Disqualification Street Fight. The only limits are Cleveland City Limits!"

Larry Dots: "Thank you for that clarification. I think I feel my IQ rising, just because I'm sitting next to you!"

Jimmy Peckman: "..."

[Up the lower level stairs we go...

...to the second level...

...third level...

...top level...]

Larry Dots: "What the hell are they doing all the way up there? That's where the executive offices are, not the ring!"

Jimmy Peckman: "This is insanity! The match hasn't even officially started yet!"

[...through a small office. In their haste the crew nearly knocks over the oversized computer monitor sitting on the desk, and send a whirlwind of papers into the air. The focus seems to be on an open window, at the far end of the room. Out of breath, the cameraman does his best to lean out with the camera, and we catch the top of Chris Saint's head...]

Jimmy Peckman: "...ON THE ROOF!"

Larry Dots: "Crazy bastards. They're going to _KILL_ someone!"

[With a bit of teamwork, the cameraman is able to climb up onto the roof... teetering on the edge, before stablizing himself, and focusing the camera on Chris Saint, who's brutally dragging Trench's face across the roof's shingles. Trench is bleeding badly, his face already a crimson mask.]

Jimmy Peckman: "My Lord, that's _disgusting_!"

Larry Dots: "It's King of the Deathmatch, Sparky. If you don't have the stomach for it, go call a game of baseball."

[Saint smiles mischeviously, as he pulls a limp Trench to his feet -- landing a stiff forearm, and sending a flurry of small blood droplets all over the roof. Chris lands a deceptively fast snap suplex, before pulling Trench up for a DDT... causing more blood to pour from Trench's forehead. Quickly, he goes for a pin!]

[...]

[...]

[...]

Jimmy Peckman: "The referee hasn't made it to the roof yet! Saint's pissed, and slapping the roof in disdain!"

Larry Dots: "HaHaha! What an idiot! You can't make a pin without a ref!"

[In anger, Saint slams Trench's head against the roof before heading over towards the window to check on the progress of the referee... and starts lending a hand to the older man, pulling him up to the roof.]

Jimmy Peckman: "Saint, again, proves he's a smart competitor. He knows that without the referee being on the roof, he can't score a pinfall victory!"

Larry Dots: "Yeah, he learned that a few minutes ago, where were you?"

Jimmy Peckman: "TRENCH IS UP! SAINT DOESN'T SEE HIM!!!"

[Trench lines up behind Saint, who's still bent awkwardly over the roof, just starting to pull himself up from helping the referee... before dropping down from a crippling dropkick to the back of his knee.]

Larry Dots: "He's teetering on the edge!"

Jimmy Peckman: "It's a long drop down to the parking lot from here! One of these men might _die_ tonight, at this rate!"

[Trench labels Saint with a forearm, before landing a russian leg sweep that puts both men into a bit of a 'safer' position on the roof. Wasting little time, Trench jams a knee into Chris's head, before dragging his face against the sandpaper-esque roof tiles.]

Jimmy Peckman: "Sweet revenge, for Trench!"

[Trench pulls Saint up, and Chris throws a wild punch -- blind, with blood covering his face -- missing by a mile. Trench grabs Saint on his overswing, and lands a german suplex that...]

Jimmy Peckman [sick]: "Oh my God..."

Larry Dots: "OVER THE EDGE! TRENCH JUST GERMAN SUPLEXED CHRIS SAINT OFF OF THE ROOF!!!"

Jimmy Peckman: "NO!"

[The camera focuses in on four fingers, white-knuckled, just over the edge of the roof. It swings to Trench, walking towards them with a sickeningly sadistic smile upon his face.]

Jimmy Peckman: "He wouldn't dare..."

Larry Dots: "To the victor go the spoils!"

[Trench places a foot over the fingers, stepping down with force, grinding them into the roof like they were cigarettes being extinguished. In a flurry, Chris Saint's head pokes up over the roof -- as his other arm latches on to Trench's leg... and then, both men disappear over the edge.]

Jimmy Peckman: "GET THE EMT'S OUT THERE!!!"

Larry Dots: "Ha! Both of those morons aren't going to make it through tonight! I hope Saint falls in his head, and Trench gets impaled by one of Chris's broken bones."

Jimmy Peckman: "That's just disgusting."

[The rumble of a diesel engine is heard, and a large semi truck starts to slowly pull away -- with the two competitors ON it!]

Jimmy Peckman: "They're _ALIVE!_"

Larry Dots: "...for now. I can't imagine battling on a semi truck is the greatest of ideas."

Jimmy Peckman: "The truck must have been parked for a delivery, and was in place to break their fall! What absolute _luck_ for everyone in attendance tonight, I was fearing a mangled lump of broken and twisted limbs right on the street!"

Larry Dots: "Give it time, give it time..."

[Both competitors seem hurt, attempting to gain their bearings as the truck picks up speed. Trench wipes some blood from his eyes, before slowly attempting to keep his balance while rising to his feet. He pulls Saint up, and delivers a forearm -- but Chris strikes back -- then Trench -- then Saint!]

Jimmy Peckman: "They're trading blows on top of that Semi Truck! This is INSANITY!"

[Trench lands a boot to Saint's midsection, before pulling him into DDT position -- and the truck driver hits the brakes -- and the DDT inadvertantly puts both men...

_through_
_the_
_roof_

...of the truck!]

Larry Dots: "I bet that hurt."

Jimmy Peckman: "We need to get a crew in there! Go!"

[We continue to focus on the top of the truck, which has a gaping hole in the center of it.]

Jimmy Peckman: "Who knows what that truck is hauling! That could have been a _very_ unsafe fall!"

Larry Dots: "...Or, it could be full of bubble wrap."

[The shot switches to a crew on the street, focused on a driver who's staring at the back of his truck, scratching his head.]

[_BONG!_]

[_BONG!_]

[Two head-size dents appear, not far from where the driver stands. Irate, the driver sprints to the back, flinging open the door just in time to allow the two competitors to spill out onto the concrete. Saint rises quickly, bringing a bag of frozen hotdogs across the face of his opponent -- but Trench retaliates with a can of Pepsi to the forehead!]

Jimmy Peckman: "They're battling it out with FOOD!"

[Chris Saint sends the hotdogs into the face of his opponent once more, before sending a dropkick to his leg, dropping both to the street. Saint rises first, slamming Trench into a lightpole, before powerbombing him onto the curb. He goes for a pin!]

Jimmy Peckman: "Chris Saint, with a cover!"

[One...]





[Two...]






[Three...KICKOUT!]

Jimmy Peckman: "Trench isn't done yet! How much punishment can one man take?!"

Larry Dots: "Apparently, a little more than he has thus far."

Jimmy Peckman: "Your razor-sharp wit never fails, Larry."

[Saint pulls Trench to his feet, irish whipping him towards the near gate -- a series of iron bars housing the parking lot -- and follows up with a dropkick. Trench battles back, as Saint attempts a spear -- and Trench catches him in a gorilla press, launching him right into the bars. Wasting no time, he grabs one of Saint's legs, and begins dragging him into the parking lot.]

Jimmy Peckman: "...and the bills begin to pile up."

Larry Dots: "Get the Camry -- that's Jimmy's car!"

[As if he heard Larry's cries, Trench drops a legdrop on Saint before slamming his head into the passenger side door of the Camry. Jimmy cries, Larry applauds, Trench smiles, and Saint falls limp.]

Jimmy Peckman: "...back to the body shop... *sigh*"

[Trench pulls Saint up, and drops him with a swinging neckbreaker. Still quite tired, Trench maneuvers his way onto the top of a truck's bed -- before leaping off with a _massive_ frog splash!]

Jimmy Peckman: "That hurt _both_ men! This can't go on much longer!"

[Trench slides to the side a bit, hooking a leg, and getting an effective cover.]

[One...]

















[Two...]

















Jimmy Peckman: "No! Saint isn't done yet, either!"

[Trench is furious, and begins raining blows in frustration onto his opponent. Saint doesn't even put up a fight, as Trench lands right hook after left hook, essentially splattering his already heavily damaged face all over the pavement. Eventually, Saint manages to push Trench off -- and the dark Superstar begins dragging Saint back towards the stadium.]

Jimmy Peckman: "Why not go for a pin, here? Trench could have this match WON -- but he's toying around with Saint. This is more than a large enough opening for Saint to take advantage of, we've seen it before!"

[Trench drags Saint up some stairs, much to Chris's chagrin.]

Larry Dots: "Are you kidding? There's more blood on the roof, on the parking lot, and on the street in front of the stadium than there is in the entire Red Cross bloodbanks! Whoever falls down first is going to lose, we're beyond strategy at this point!"

Jimmy Peckman: "Either way, this has been an _incredible_ night of action! King of the Deathmatch NEVER disappoints!"

[They're into the backstage by now, and Saint is starting to struggle as Trench drags him awkwardly through the hallways. A stiff kick to the back of Trench's leg sends both tumbling to the floor.]

Larry Dots: "Ha! Look at the trail of blood left by Trench dragging Saint through the hallway! It looks like someone has been _murdered_ in there!"

[Saint struggles to rise to his feet, but Trench puts an end to that, with a stiff lowblow.]

Larry Dots: "Oh! Right in the mommy-daddy button!"

Jimmy Peckman: "The what?"

[With that, Trench slams an elbow into the face of the fallen Saint, before dropping a series of boots, and continuing with dragging him towards the ring. As they hit the rampway, Saint trips Trench -- and kips up to his feet, where the two begin trading haymakers again. Saint gets the advantage, landing a right cross that would make Mike Tyson proud -- sending Trench stumbling. Seeing his opening, Chris charges...]

Jimmy Peckman: "THAT'S IT! THIS MATCH MUST END! There's going to be nothing left of these two, by the time they're done!"

Larry Dots: "Saint speared Trench off the rampway, and they fell into a pile on the hard concrete floor!"

[One!]











Jimmy Peckman: "The momentum carried the twosome over, in a morbid somersault!"








[Two!]







Larry Dots: "Trench is unconcious! Saint is unconcious!"









[THREE!!!]




Jimmy Peckman: "That's it! TRENCH WINS!"

Larry Dots: I can't believe this Jimmy! Trench has done it! Trench has defeated Chris Saint!

[ Trench pushes himself off of Chris Saint, and lays on he's back for a few moments in the middle of the canvas. Blood fills the ring, and still pours from the face of Trench as he reaches for the ropes. Trench lifts himself up and leans against the turnbuckle. ]

Announcer: LADIES AND GENTLE. YOU'RE WINNNNNEERR!!!!!!!!!! AND KING OF THE DEEEEAAATTTHHHHMAAATTTCCHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!TTTTTTTTTTTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ The referee raises Trench's bloody hand up in victory as " My Plauge " blasts through out the arena. ]

Crowd: TRENCH! TRENCH! TRENCH!

Jimmy Peckman: These fans are loving every second of this!!!

Larry Dots: In my eyes Chris Saint and Trench just got a whole lot my respect!

Jimmy Peckman: You can say that again, both of these men have fought till they were almost dead tonight, going through three rounds of terror and pain.

[ Chris Saint looks around and rolls over onto he's stomach, wiping all of the blood out of he's eyes while trying to push himself up. Trench stands on the turnbuckle holding he's ribs, with he's other fist raised high up in the air. ]

Voice: CUT THE MUSIC!!! CUT THE MUSIC!!!!

Larry Dots: Who the hell is saying that?

[ Tai Haven walks out of the entry way with microphone tightly in hand. ]

Tai Haven: Congratulations Trench! You did it! After alllll my doubts you pulled through for the SWF.

[ Trench steps down from the turnbuckle and leans back on the ropes, with a hateful look directed at Tai. ]

Jimmy Peckman: Oh come on Tai!!!

Larry Dots: Now wait up, maybe he is just saying congratulations Jim, give the man a chance.

Tai Haven: But im still not yet satisfied

Jimmy Peckman: Oh no!

Larry Dots: Who is that?

Jimmy Peckman: Holyshit, that's Dan Easton, Wally Renfield and Goliath!

[ Dan, Goliath and Wally slide into the ring and surround Chris Saint and Trench. Saint pushes himself up to he's feet and hangs onto the ropes not so far away from Trench.]

Jimmy Peckman: Both men look ready to still fight!!

Tai Haven: NOW LOWER THAT GOD DAMN CAGE!!!

Larry Dots: NO!!!

[ The cage begins to lower down to the ring. Trench and Chris Saint look up at it as it gets closer and closer to surrounding them, making them totally helpless. ]

Jimmy Peckman: I can't believe this! The cage is lowered and Trench and Saint are trapped!

[ Tai begins to throw steel chairs into the ring, watching Dan Easton, Wally and Goliath get closer and closer to the exhausted Saint and Trench before. ]

CRACK!!!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jimmy Peckman/Larry Dots: NOOOO!!!!

Larry Dots: TRENCH JUST ATTACKED CHRIS SAINT!!!! THROWING HIM INTO THE CAGE!! WHATS GOING ON HERE!!!!

[ Trench begins to stomp Chris Saint out as Easton, Renfield and Goliath watch him. Trench turns to look at Tai Haven, and nods he's head with a evil grin on he's face. ]

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Jimmy Peckman: NO! THIS WAS ALL PART OF TAI'S PLAN!!!!

[ Tai laughs outside of the cage as Trench, Renfield, Easton and Goliath begin to stomp the hurt and worn out Chris Saint. Trench grabs a chair and begins wacking Saint's back numerous amounts of times, with all of the others still viciously stomping him out. ]

Easton: Throw me the cuffs!

[ Tai reaches into he's suit pocket to pull out two pairs of hand cuffs, before throwing the over the cage to Dan Easton. ]

Jimmy Peckman: Oh come on! No Hand Cuffs!

Larry Dots: They are looking to kill Chris Saint! How much can this one man take in one night!?

[ Wally and Goliath pull Saint up to he's feet and throw him against the steel cage, lifting both arms up pressed against the cage as Easton throws Trench a pair of hand cuffs, both men attach one of Saint's arms to the cage as Wally and Goliath let go of him, letting him helplessly hang throw. ]

Jimmy Peckman: Somebody stop these guys!!

Larry Dots: Chris Saint does not deserve this punishment!

Tai Haven: Turn that electric on god damn it!! Turn it on!!

Jimmy Peckman: WHAT!!!!???

Larry Dots: NOOO!! TAI IS FORCING THE OFFICIALS TO TURN THE ELECTRIC ON TO THE CAGE!!! JESUS CHRIST NO!!

[ Chris Saint's head rises, with pain in his face as he twitches from the electric surging through out he's whole body. Trench takes the chair and begins to wack it as hard as possible into Saint's face. ]

CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!

Tai Haven: Alright that's enough!! Turn it off!

[ Tai stands outside looking upon the beat up Chris Saint with a huge smile across he's face. ]

Larry Dots: Tai is enjoying this whole thing!

[ All four men go at Saint once more, slapping him around as he's head lowers, slipping in and out of unconsciousness. Tai Haven walks up the steel stairs, and opens the door to the cage, walking right in with he's eyes focused on Saint suffering, loving every second of it. ]

[ Easton, Trench, Renfield and Goliath step back as Tai Haven walks in front of Chris Saint, grabbing he's bloody face and lifting it up to look at he's. ]

Tai Haven: You see Chris Saint! This is what happens when you fuck with me you piece of shit!

[ Tai tells Chris Saint, yelling each word into he's face. ]

Jimmy Peckman: This is getting me sick!

Larry Dots: I did not see this coming ladies and gentleman. I thought Trench hated Haven and was all for himself.

Jimmy Peckman: We have seen Trench be ruthless and not care, but siding with Tai in this whole situation surprised all of us. I just can't believe this.

Larry Dots: Saint doesn't even know where he is. I mean who could have fought off this dominant Force of Trench, Dan Easton, Goliath and Wally Renfield?

[Tai Haven has everybody step back as he picks up a steel chair. He looks around a few times as he begins to lift it up. Out comes Dark Wolf, Heatwave, Jimmy Riley, Tristian Connors, and The Brothers Smith! They are charging the ring full speed with a chair each. Tai Haven sneaks out of the cage and off to the side before they get down. All four SWF wrestlers stand guard in the cage as these men enter it.]

Jimmy Peckman: Shit just hit the damn fan!

[Dark Wolf swings his chair and nails Dan Easton on top of the head and he then jabs the chair into Goliaths gut as Heatwave smacks the chair into Goliaths back. Riley tackles Trench and just starts hitting him with lefts and rights until Tristian Connors leaps off the top of the cage landing a huge frog splash onto Trench. The Brothers Smith whip Wally Renfield into the ropes and as he flies back they lift him into the air and toss him face first into steel cage.]

Larry Dots: Tai Haven isn’t looking too happy... White Mountain Wrestling just cleared the SWF ring, and are unhooking Chris Saint who the crowd is cheering on like crazy!

Jimmy Peckman: What a night... Saint was nearly killed by SWF, and Trench is King of the Deathmatch!

Ulfric lay on the floor of his locker room, alone, covered in blood, the pain almost blinding. His back split open from the bullwhip marks, his shoulder and the middle of his back branded, the burnt skin already itching. It was a pain he’d felt before.

His career was over, for that he felt a moment of pure joy, it was over, it was finally done, a year of hell, a year of searching for his son only to at last be reunited with Luka again, if only thought the wires of the cage, to have glimpsed him in his brother’s arms had fueled him with the hatred he had needed to continue to fight. But as he had staggered, fallen and crawled back up the aisle to get to the back, he had carried with him the knowledge that Luka was back safe beside his wife, being held tight and cuddled in her loving arms. That brief moment with them in the ring, when she had brought his babies into the blood, into the stench of burned flesh and the remnants of flames to stand with him one last time before the crowd had meant the world to him.

He was exhausted now, and lay there on his side looking at the wall.

In another dressing room, down the hall

Mike Bell was exhausted, the match had taken everything out of him. He lay, trying to muster the strength to drag himself to the shower. The monitors were on in his locker room and he watched as a match took place, disinterested, till the monitor view changed, showing a scene unfolding in the back.

A man skulked down the hall, sticking to the shadows, his large form impressive, his long hair swept back, he moved with an air of practiced menace, but he slipped up once, allowing his face to come into view, revealing himself as the true force behing Mike Bell’s year of hell, the man behind the monster, so to speak, or, now that facts had come to light, the monster himself, the man formerly known as Nightwing….Scott Logan, brother to Ulfric and the man who for the last year had held Ulfric’s own son captive to force the brutal warrior to do his bidding.

Logan stood now outside of Ulfric’s dressing room, malice and hatred in his eyes, and Mike Bell lay there, watching him, hatred burning in his own for the things that Logan had done, for the image playing over and over in his mind of Logan kidnapping his son, Logan beating the small child with a bullwhip, Logan branding him. Logan in the darkness at the top of the stairs firing the dart down into his brother, silencing Rick before he could give Bell the answers he would have needed to try and prevent the war that they had just had.

Now he watched as Logan entered his brother’s dressing room to loom in the doorway.

“Pathetic piece of shit” Logan spat as he glair down at the broken, bloodied, burned and battered form of Ulfric.

The Silent Warrior lifted his head, almost proudly, and glared up at his brother

“You lost Scott…for all your planning, you lost” he said, the blood dripping from his mouth as he spoke.

“so did you” Logan said, coming forward now, a length of chain in his hand “only you don’t know it yet”

Using the chain like a whip Logan brought it crashing down on Ulfric’s side. The injured warrior already in pain curled into a ball, jaw clenched refusing to cry out at the continued assault. If anything he was barely conscious. He could hardly feel it as his brother finally stopped the beating and wrapped the chain around his neck, securing it with a padlock before dragging him out the door and down the hall.

Bell saw, saw it all, and drug himself to the bench in his locker room to push himself unsteadily to his feet. On the monitor he could see Logan dragging Rick outside into the parking lot, towards a black SUV. He forced himself to move towards the door., every step bringing a grimace of pain to his face.

Outside Logan had secured the end of the chain he’d been holding to the back of the SUV, shoving away the very few officials who tried to stop him.

Inside the arena Mike Bell staggered unsteadily down the halls, tripping over a cable and falling hard. It took him several minutes to pull himself along the floor and find something to grasp and pull himself up with. But determination and anger burned in his eyes as he stumbled towards to door, moving towards the man who had been his tormentor for the last year, aching to make good on his vow to keep his family safe forever.

Outside Logan had started the SUV, despite the men trying to wave him down, make him stop. One official desperately tried to remove the chain from Ulfric’s neck as the fallen warrior lay unmoving on the cold, damp pavement.

Inside Bell slowly made his way up the hallway, clinging to the wall, forcing his legs to move. He could hear the commotion outside, just beyond the door, hear the roar of an engine and officials pleading with someone.

Outside Logan pushed the SUV forward, scattering the men who had futilely been attempting to stop him. Behind the SUV, Ulfric’s body was drug along the pavement, slow at first, and gathering speed as Logan pushed the SUV to go faster.

Bell made it to the door, finally, and gripped it, the effort and the loss of blood from the earlier match making his head spin. He blinked his eyes, focusing, seeing the taillights of the SUV and the dim form of the man being dragged behind it. For a moment he watched in horror, till the anger took over again and he stumbled for, staggering and fell again.

An official turned, seeing him there, hearing his demand that someone help stop this. Hands were on him, helping him to his feet, Bell weakly pushed at them, knocked some away, staggering now into the parking lot. He could see the SUV in the distance, turning now, then pausing at the top of the parking lot, engine revving. Bell looked around wearily, wiped the blood from his eyes and saw a few feet away the ambulance idling with the door open.

His blood dripped down to the pavement as he moved towards the ambulance, which seemed impossibly far away now, and hazy as the SUV roared down the parking lot, tires burning rubber on the pavement. Bell finally made it to the ambulance and inside, leaning heavily against the steering wheel as he pulled the door shut and started it.

The SUV rounded the tail end of the parking lot, moving towards him now, Bell gunned the engine and kicked in into gear, slamming into the drivers side of the SUV as it roared by. A thunderous crunch, metal on metal as the two vehicles came to a sickening halt. Bell didn’t moved, slumped over the steering wheel unconscious now. In the SUV Logan lay a bloody, broken mess pinned by the door and the wheel, his body slumped to the side, covered in glass. On the ground behind the SUV, the torn, bloody form of Ulfric lay near unrecognizable, so damaged it was impossible from a glance to tell if he was still alive.

Officials ran up the blacktop towards the wreck, someone screamed into a hand held radio, chaos as the first of them arrived beside the twisted hulk of the SUV.

Official: Dear god…we’re going to need more ambulances!!!!

Fade to SWF Logo