“How many does this make?”

[My memory fails me when it comes to the games. Too many hard fought losses I guess. Now I am leading a group who no one in the alliance even gives a chance to make it into the ring, I could be setting myself up for another one of those hard fought losses.]

“Mike, it will be five tonight.”

[The president of WCWA, I was beginning to wonder when he was going to make his appearance today. I have walked these halls all afternoon, just trying to shake out the nerves in my legs and I have not seen as much as a peep from Vince Webb.]

Sloan: Vince… It is good to see you.

[I extend my hand and await his.]

Webb: I am so glad you did not bail on me Mike. WCWA hosting the games this year, I have been a complete wreck this last week.

[His tan hand meets my white flesh and we shake as if we have been friends before.]

Sloan: It has been a rough one Vincent. This comeback… Meeting Ms. Smith…Learning to trust again… It has been tough.

[I brush my black hair out of my face; I think it is time for another change of styles, and smile at Vince.]

Webb: No shit, between chasing, you and Cynthia down I have had my hands full. Mike, I could not have had a better choice to lead this team of misfits. You will do me proud.

[It felt like a father talking to his son for a moment. My gut begins to tingle a little, nerves, I know the feeling all to well.]

Webb: Mike, the Show is about to start. I just really wanted to thank you for helping me get WCWA off the ground. Moreover, good luck tonight. I will be rooting for you.

[He is a good man, but he could not have made his exit any sooner. I need time to prepare for the team’s arrival; maybe I can come up with something good that will inspire them to do their best.]

“Summer Games 8, it’s where all the dreams come true. Tonight, for some, will be like the night they lost their virginity, short and to the point. They will go away learning a few things that will further their careers and eventually making them a success."

[Like me, each defeat I have built on top of what I have already learned. I improve every match and Summer Games has never been an exception. My palms begin to gather sweat.]

“Some of them might walk away with a feeling of loathing-ness. They may never want to compete in this tournament again. To them, I will call them faint of heart. They need to find another way to make a living.”

[Guts, glory, and tears, this event has brought out all of them in me. From coming up just short in Summer Games 2 to watching this event propel me into winning the WWA World, title on two occasions. I give all of the credit to Summer Games.]

“Then there will be that one individual that will walk away with a guarantee. A guarantee at facing the winner of Paige, Horrey, and Bane for the world title. This man will have the distinct pleasure of being able to call him one of the six other individuals to walk away from Summer Games with the win. He will be the Gladiator who faced every form of man and beast and still walked away in glory.”

[Tonight, I feel it. Summer Games is going to have Mike Sloan as a champion.]

“Tonight, Summer Games makes a career.”

[Tonight, has the same feeling as ACW’s reunion show.]

[The scene opens up in the backstage area in the lobby. The entrance opens and AWA wrestler Adrien Cochrane walks into the door, holding a few of his bags. He stumbles into the room, struggling with holding the four bags with only two hands. A backstage worker walks in the room and notices Adrien struggling.]

Man: …um, Adrien, would you like some he…

[Adrien loses control of the bags, and one flies up in the air and lands on top of the worker. Adrien, who still has one bag in his hand, puts it down and helps the man back to his feet.]

Adrien: Dude, I am so sorry. Are you okay?

[The man dusted off his shirt and pants and looks at Adrien.]

Man: Yeah, I’m okay. Um…I have to go do something…OVER THERE!!!

[The man, probably not wanting to get hurt again, runs off in the opposite direction he pointed to. Adrien tries to grab the four bags and head back to the locker room. A woman walks over to Adrien.]

Woman: Hey, Adrien…you need a hand?

[Adrien, still struggling since he doesn’t have four arms, looks at her.]

Adrien: Yes, thank you very much.

[Adrien hands her one of the bags, but as he hands her a second one, a sock falls out of the bag she already has. As soon as she turns around and heads towards the hallway, she slips on the sock and falls down. Adrien immediately put down his two bags and assists the woman to her feet.]

Adrien: Whoa! Are you alright?

Woman: Yes…get someone else to help you!

[The woman storms off. Adrien calls to her as she storms off.]

Adrien: It was an accident…I’m sorry!

[The woman seems to ignore him as there is no answer from her. Adrien looks at his four bags in disbelief.]

Adrien: Damn, why did Brandie and Clint have to pack so much stuff!?

[Adrien stares at the bags for a minute and thinks for a second, rubbing his chin. Suddenly, he grabs two of the bags, heads to the hallway and disappears for a second. He comes back and grabs the other two bags. Before leaving with them, he randomly mumbles.]

Adrien: (mumbling, barely audible) Well, with this luck, my opponent’s might accidentally hurt themselves. Heh.

[Adrien then stops and looks into the camera.]

Adrien: Welcome to Summer Games Eight!!!!!!

[Adrien smiles and heads back to the hallway, turns a corner, and disappears.]

“This thing on?”

[We get light, as a hallway is shown, followed by a few KABOOM and BAM sounds like a Batman episode come from behind the camera. Before long, it's set straight, and we see a very distraught and perturbed man.]

[Calib Wallace.]

“We ready here moron?”

[The camera moves up and down, as the camera man nods his answer, trying to be as quiet and professional as possible. Calib just shakes his head, before getting his composer back at his helm.]

[Smirk.]

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to something I'd love to call, Summer Games, slash, Night of Calib Wallace. It's set to be a great show if I do say so myself. I'd personally like to say hello also to you all from my friend, Goldy. Say hi to the people.”

[The camera lowers and shows the AWA Heavyweight Title in his possession still. After a moment of silence, the camera pans up to a very happy Wallace.]

“Tonight, you will be the first to witness the greatness that is Team Wallace, as we step into the ring with Team HRW. It should be a tough showdown, with the likes of Angel of Death, who seemed to die away into the wind tonight, along with guys like Cobra and Justin Brooks, and Ryo-Wo. The nervousness over Team Wallace is in the air, but I think we can deal with it. Having a monster by the name of Goliath helps, along with some HTML guy on our team can keep our side safe. Then we pull out the wild card, Demetrius Burrell, our current Team Wallace Arena Champion. Last and not least of course, is your's truly, the Champ-i-on himself, Calib Wallace.”

[Calib quickly flicks the title, as it makes the sound that a glass being tapped by a spoon would make at a wedding.]

[Gotta love sound effects these days.]

“Now I know you fans of Team Wallace are a bit nervous about this situation, but don't worry everyone, everything will be alright. With my guidance and leadership, we will keep the ship alive and into the finals.”

[Calib adjusts his notes for a moment, before looking back at the camera, smiling like he actually knows what he's doing as a host.]

“The other three qualifier matches look to be tough for everyone, but once whoever makes it to the finals against Team Wallace, will have the deck stacked against them. It will be a war, but once everything finishes, the final two left will obviously be Team Wallace members....Demetrius Burrell, and Calib Wallace, of course.”

[He smiles, going to the next page, quickly grabbing a pencil, tapping it off the table like a cheap talk show host.]

“This is where the drama for all the loyal Wallace fans begins. As sad as it will be, Demetrius will then lie down and let me pin him, to become the Summer Games Champion. It's just in the nature of a Team like ours, that they will make sure their leader takes the victory. That's war for you, and I'm glad to have such guys like him, Monster and HTML on our team. Team Wallace will reign supreme, and I'm glad each and every loyal fan out their paid to see our dream as Team Wallace members, come true.”

[He grabs his Title, stands up and smiles, before tossing it over his shoulder and doing the Uncle Sam point that is on every military poster.]

“Team Wallace wants you. Join up, and get on the winning team. Thank you.”

[He nods, and then nods the belt like it's not a inanimate object, but a human being, as he exits the picture.]

[Fade.]

[Pyro explodes throughout the arena as the thousands of fans in attendance scream their hearts out. Pictures of the prior winners of Summer Games in their victory flashes across the screen as we are brought down to our announcers, Mario Jackson and Sylvia Sanchez.]

Jackson: Hello everyone and welcome to Summer Games Eight!!

Sanchez: This is the premier event of the World Wrestling Alliance, and man, is this one a doozy or what??

Jackson: It certainly is, Sylvia. Not only do we have the best of the best competing for the coveted label of being a Summer Games Champion, but we have other outstanding matches as well.

Sanchez: We've got OCW and AWA representing their tag division and defending their belts on the PPV.

Jackson: Not only that, but we have the potentially Earth-shattering match of Victor Mandrake and Ryan Corey as they wrestle for control of this very alliance!

Sanchez: I'd love to have Mandrake as my boss!

Jackson: I bet you would.

Sanchez: After that, we have the Conspiracy defending their straps against Superiority Complex, followed by Thomas Bane defending his belt against arguably two of the greatest wrestlers this alliance has to offer, David Paige and Sam Horrey.

Jackson: That oughtta be a helluva match! Then after that, the match we'll all be waiting for, the Summer Games Final! Who do you think's going to win it all?

Sanchez: It's hard to say, Mario. You've got Mike Sloan, hungry for the win to try and re-establish himself in the alliance, but then you've got men like Jake Devins who's always on the hunt to be at the top.

Jackson: Don't forget about Calib Wallace. That man's been smelling the gold for a long time now. He's got to be very hungry.

Sanchez: I figure Josh Styles is a shoe-in for the Final, given his history with the NWA and the revenge he'll be looking for. Whether or not he'll go all the way, I'm not sure.

Jackson: What about Jeff Andrews and Python?

Sanchez: Those are two solid picks for the Final as well. Andrews won the CAL World Championship, so he knows what it's like to be at the top. I know he'll be wanting to be there again, VERY soon. As far as Python, he's already got gold in the Double Crown Title, and you know he's just itching to take that next big step.

Jackson: They'll have to get past OCW first, though. There's enough bad blood between those two feds to fuel a full-scale war!

Sanchez: There sure is! But for now, let’s check up with one of the contender’s for tonight’s title match, “Irish Fire” David Paige.

David Paige is standing in his locker room, already dressed for his match. He holds a jump-rope in his hands, and is obvious well into his work-out routine. His regularly pale skin is a bright red, and his face is somewhat contorted in exhertion. It looks as if he is in danger of wearing himself completely out even before the match begins. He notices the camera has entered the gym, and stops the routine. His chest rises and falls slowly, and he takes a drink of the water, making sure he remains perfectly within the camera’s line of sight the entire time. As he finishes his sip, he turns to the camera man.

Paige: “I know you’re not supposed to talk to people you’re filming, supposed to be that invisible third eye and all, but sit down here for a bit.”

The camera stands still.

Paige: “Come on.”

He gestured a little. The camera man sits down, trying to keep his view on Paige as best he can.

Paige: “Mind if I take a look at that?”

Paige reaches for the camera, and pulls it to his face. He focuses on his own eyes, and part of his left cheek.

Paige: “You know, Roland Barthes said that the camera was the only form of message without code. He also said that Professional Wrestling was no different from the tragic theatre of Greece. I suppose he was probably wrong about both of those, now that I think about it. But one thing he did say, that I believe, is that the camera never catches reality. That it always, always catches but a performance. The moment the lens is turned on you, you become an actor on a stage.”

Paige puts the camera on his shoulder and zooms in on the cameraman himself. The short, thinning haired man seems uncomfortable with the attention.

Paige: “So, how does it feel? You’re the star now, your face is being shown to a crowd of thousands, and an audience of millions around the world. What’s your name?”

Camera Man: “Doug”

Paige: “Well Doug, how does it feel to be me? Because I have to tell you, it feels great right now being you. Watching you. Getting a peak into who you are. This is your fifteen minutes Doug, what do you want to say to all those watching at home?”

Doug: “I don’t know.”

Paige: “Well you gotta say something Doug. Everyone is listening.”

Doug: “Love you Betty.”

Paige: “There you go. Now, why did you say that?”

Doug: “I dunno.”

Paige: “Now, I am not saying that you don’t love Betty, but think about why you said it. You said it because the Camera was on you. The Camera made you say it. It made you do something you would not otherwise do, only because its there. Do you understand the power you wield by having this?”

Doug: “It’s just a camera.”

Paige: “Maybe to you. Let me guess, they sent you in here to see how I was getting ready for my match right? To show the contender in preparation.

Doug: “Yeah.”

Paige: “Do you know what its like to be the Odd-Man Out Doug? To be the one almost no one is counting on? Especially when cameras like this show up?”

Doug: “No.”

Paige: “It demands everything from you. It points its glassy eye and says, ‘you, perform for me.’ And when you’re in my position, do you know what kinda of performance it demands?”

Doug: “What kind?”

Paige: “Strength, it demands strength Doug. They expect me to be weak, so the camera demands that I am strong. It demands I show myself making a formidable foe out of myself. That I demonstrate the underdog’s spirit. But do you know something Doug?”

Doug: “What?”

Paige: “I am getting tired of having to be strong, every time this damn thing shows up. I am tired of having to build myself up for its command. To prove myself, and my federation. And what of my federation? It seems they have been riding on my success too much. WR, home of David Paige. Afterall, I am the WR Golden Boy. Perhaps its time they have to face the motivation I do. The same thrust. Mind if I borrow this camera?”

Doug: “I do not think I can let you have it.”

Paige: “I will bring it right back, I promise. Pinky swear.”

Doug: “Al…Alright…”

Paige: “Thanks… now get out.”

The Camera-man slowly gets up and heads for the door. Paige films him the entire time, waiting until he is gone. Then the screen goes black.

Jackson: Interesting words from the World Title contender.

Sanchez: I wonder what he's up to?

Jackson: I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. For now, we have our first match of the evening, the OCW Tag Team Title Match!

Isaac Davenport: The Opening Match of Summer Games is Triple Threat Tag Team Match. It is scheduled for one fall and is for the OCW Tag Team Championship.

[“Rising to the Top/We Run This” remix blares on the P.A. The crowd gives a faint cheer as Malik Johnson and Vince Webb Jr. walk down the ramp.]

Isaac Davenport: Introducing first, hailing from Shreveport, Louisiana and weighing in at a combined total of 480 lbs. They are the former OCW Stampede Tag Team Champions. Malik Johnson and Vince Webb Jr., They are Southern Hospitality!

Jackson: Tonight, we got three teams that have a grudge that needs to be settled and a championship that they want to win.

Sanchez: Southern Hospitality has held the titles before and they want them back on the biggest stage in the WWA.

[Money (Dollar Bill) by Everlast begins to play as the Billionaire Brats exit the curtain dressed in reverse patterned Green and Gold colored tights. The group strolls to the ring to a mixture of cheers and mostly boos.]

Isaac Davenport: And their opponents. Hailing from Los Angeles, California and Greenwich, CT, respectively and weighing in at a combined weight of 472 lbs. They are “Steady Freddy” Fred Kurner and “Big Willy” Will Sates. They are The Billionaire Brats!

Jackson: Honestly, I’m surprised that the Brats even made here tonight. Will Sates has not had his mind on this match since he found out that one of his closest friends was admitted into the hospital.

Sanchez: Fred Kurner on the other hand has nothing on his mind but winning the titles. Don’t be too surprised if Kurner tries to keep Sates out of the action as much as possible.

Jackson: That could be a dangerous thing in such a match.

[“South Texas Deathride” by Union Underground hits the PA system as Chris and Jeremy King step out from behind the OCW logo curtain holding their OCW Stampede Tag Team Titles. Jeremy’s in front as Chris follows him out, their wearing matching navy blue and gold colors on their various attires. Boos from the crowd can be heard as they make their way down to the ring. Various items are hurled in the direction of the OCW tag team champions as they walk down the ramp. Jeremy walks up the ring steps and jumps into the ring as Chris bends over to enter the ring. The two pose in the middle of the ring with their titles then hand them to the referee.]

Isaac Davenport: And their opponents. They are the reigning OCW Tag Team Champions. Hailing from Evarts, Kentucky, weighing in at a combined weight of 520 pounds, Jeremy and Chris, the SOUTHERN KINGZ!!!

Jackson: The champs may not be the most liked but they know when to take care of business when it comes to working as a unit in the ring.

Sanchez: That has to be paramount because under Triple Threat Rules, they don’t have to be in the decision to lose their titles.

Jackson: Greed, power, and teamwork and gold in the balance. Gotta love it!!!

[The ref holds up the OCW Tag Team Championship belts high in the air before he hands them off to the timekeeper. The ref gives all three teams final instructions before he calls for the bell.]

[Ding…. Ding.]

Jackson: And it looks like The Brats and the Kingz are going to start where they left off.

[Jeremy King and Will Sates circle each other in the ring before locking up. Jeremy King comes away with a side headlock. Will Sates shoots Jeremy King into the ropes and Jeremy King comes back with a shoulder block. Jeremy King hits the ropes again but Will Sates comes up with a hip toss that takes Jeremy King to the mat. Jeremy King gets back to his feet and runs into an arm drag takedown by Sates. Sates takes control with an arm bar.]

Jackson: Looks like The Billionaire Brats are trying to set the tone.

[The ref checks on Jeremy King who is shaking him off before getting back to his feet. Jeremy King grabs a handful of hair to push Will Sates into a nearby corner. The ref calls for the break. Will Sates lets go as Jeremy King starts to pull back but returns with a quick knee to the midsection. Jeremy King delivers another knee to the midsection before taking Will Sates out of the corner with a snapmare.]

Sanchez: Those shots are kind of stiff.

[Will Sates sits up and Jeremy King hits a modified neck snap on Will Sates before making the tag to Chris King. Chris King picks up Will Sates and clubs him with a forearm smash before shooting him into the ropes. Chris King goes for a clothesline but Will Sates ducks underneath as Fred Kurner makes a blind tag. Will Sates comes back with a bulldog as Fred Kurner hits the ropes and connects with a knee drop. Kurner goes for the cover.]

1...

2...

[Chris King quickly kicks out while Kurner brings Chris King to his feet and tries to bodyslam him but he won't budge. Chris King counters with a bodyslam of his own. Chris King goes for an elbow drop but Fred Kurner rolls out of the way. Fred Kurner hits the ropes and catches a rising Chris King with a dropkick to the chest that sends Chris King to the outside of the ring.]

Jackson: No break for “Steady Freddy”. Here comes Southern Hospitality.

[Vince Webb, Jr. steps into the middle of the ring where Kurner just stands there staring at Vince and connects with a slap to the face. Vince responds in kind until Kurner walks away and goes for a right hand but Vince blocks and goes into a collar and elbow tie-up. Fred Kurner comes away with a side headlock and turns it into a hammerlock before taking Vince down with a drop toe hold.]

Sanchez: He's just trying to show this punk Vince up a little bit.

[Vince gets back to his feet and dusts himself off before locking up again and this time, Vince comes away with a side headlock. Kurner quickly shoots Vince into the ropes and goes for a clothesline but Vince ducks under and comes back with a shoulder tackle. Vince hits the ropes again while Kurner goes low when Vince hits the ropes again and gets taken over by a hip toss by Kurner but Vince lands on his feet. Fred tries to throw Vince but Vince blocks the throw and goes for a right hand but Fred ducks under and hooks Vince into a backslide.]

1...

2…

Sanchez: Much too early for a pinning combo like that.

Jackson: But a damn good exchange so far.

[Vince quickly gets back to his feet and gets whipped to the ropes by Kurner. Fred goes for a backdrop but Vince rolls over his back and takes Fred down with a side Russian leg sweep before rolling into a cover.]

1...

2…

[Kurner gets the shoulder up while Vince pulls him up to his feet and runs him head first into the top turnbuckle before turning him around and unleashing a vicious knife edge chop to the chest.]

Jackson: I got one word for that...HURTS LIKE HELL!!!!!

[Kurner slumps back into the corner while Vince pulls him and connects with another chop as the fans are reacting to each shot. Vince sends Kurner into the opposite corner with an Irish whip and charges in but Kurner walks up the turnbuckles and nails a charging Vince with a thunderous lariat to the throat. Vince hits the mat hard while Fred Kurner hits the ropes and comes down with a springboard leg drop over the throat and follows up with a cover.]

1...

2…

Sanchez: Kurner with a near fall on Junior.

Jackson: More like having something to prove.

[Vince kicks out while Fred Kurner picks him up and sends him to his corner and tags his partner in. Will Sates and Fred Kurner whip Vince into the ropes and goes for a double elbow shot but Vince ducks underneath and comes back with a cross body block on both guys for the cover.]

1...

2...

[Both Brats kick out when Malik comes in and waits for both of them to get up and knocks them down with a double clothesline. Kurner rolls to the outside while the ref ushers Malik back to his corner, leaving Vince and Will Sates in the ring. Vince grabs Sates and goes for a front facelock. Vince lifts Sates up for a suplex but Will slips out and lands behind him. Sates goes for an Irish whip but Vince reverses it and sends Will into the ropes and catches him in a waistlock before dropping him with a belly to belly suplex. Will gets to his feet only to run into a boot to the midsection before getting taken over with a swinging neckbreaker. Vince makes the tag to Malik who comes in and stomps away at the midsection of Will Sates before picking him up and slamming him to the mat before hitting the ropes and coming down with a big elbow drop to the chest of Sates. Malik goes for the cover.]

1...

2...

[Will kicks out while Malik brings him back to his feet and knocks him down with a big right hand to the jaw. Sates tries to get back to his feet when Malik grabs him by the hair and throws him to the outside. Malik quickly follows him out when Sates goes for a right hand to the midsection to slow him down. Sates grabs Malik and goes for the Irish whip but Malik reverses the whip and sends Will Sates up and over the steel barricade. The ref starts his count.]

1...

2...

3...

4...

[Malik reaches over the barricade and brings Sates back over.]

5...

6...

[Malik throws Sates back into the ring and rolls in afterwards. Malik goes to pick up Will Sates but Will Sates seems to be clutching his ribs. Chris King makes the blind tag on Malik, who does not look happy about it. Chris King tries to move in when Kurner comes in and hits the ropes and leapfrogs over Will Sates and lands on the back of Chris King before leaving the ring. Sates gets to his feet and hooks Chris King and takes him down with a side Russian leg sweep and goes for the cover.]

1...

2...

Sanchez: Save by Jeremy King.

Jackson: This match was good as over if someone didn't come in.

[Jeremy King goes back to his corner waiting for the tag as Sates hooks Chris King in a front facelock and makes the tag to Fred Kurner, who climbs up to the top turnbuckle and jumps off with a double ax-handle to the back of Chris King. Kurner hooks a back waistlock and tries to power Chris King over but Chris King responds with a back kick that doubles over Kurner when Chris King picks up Kurner and drops him with a belly to back suplex as Kurner lands on the back of his neck.. Both men are down on the mat as the ref starts to count.]

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

Jackson: Who ever can get to their corner first can take this match right now.

[Both men start to stir as Chris King sits up as Kurner starts crawling towards his corner. Kurner makes the tag to Will Sate as Chris King makes the tag to Malik Johnson. Malik rushes in and nails Will Sates with a flying forearm. Kurner comes back in and is met by a thunderous right hand by Malik. Malik whips Sates into the ropes and takes him up and over with a back drop. Kurner comes in and is met by a boot from Malik. Malik hooks him in a waistlock and takes him down with a gutwrench powerbomb. Malik grabs Sates and whips him into the ropes and takes him up and over with a powerslam. Malik goes for the cover.]

1...

2...

Sanchez: Sates gets the shoulder up.

Jackson: Damn, Malik Johnson has just taken over this match.

[Kurner kicks Malik in the head as he and Sates grab Malik and whip him into the corner. Malik charges out and drops both men with a double clothesline. Chris King comes back into the ring and throws Malik out of the ring. Jeremy King grabs Fred Kurner and sets him on the top turnbuckle. Chris King climbs up to the top and hooks Kurner for a suplex. Jeremy King throws Sates to the outside while Chris King takes Kurner off of the top with a superplex. Jeremy King climbs up to the top turnbuckle and leaps off with a flying elbow drop and connects. Jeremy King makes the cover.]

1...

2...

3!!!

Sanchez: He got him.

Jackson: NO!!!

Sanchez: DAMN!!!!!

Jackson: Fred Kurner gets the shoulder up at the last millisecond while Jeremy King can't believe his eyes.

[Sates grabs a chair from the outside and sets it up before backing up and jumps off of the chair leaps onto Chris King with a Thesz Press before pummeling away with punches to the jaw. Jeremy King grabs Kurner and looks to put him away but Kurner slides down his back and grabs him in a waistlock as Sates rolls back into the ring and nails Jeremy King with a clothesline as Kurner takes him over with a German suplex with a bridge.]

1...

2...

Jackson: Save by Vince Webb, Jr.!!!!

Sanchez: This is nuts. Will someone lose already?

[Sates grabs Junior, who looks in wonderment before picking him up and whipping him into the ropes but Junior reverses the whip. Vince goes for a powerslam but Sates slips through and turns Vince into an inverted DDT while Vince's skull just bounces off of the mat. Both men lay on the mat while Kurner whips Jeremy King into the corner. Kurner charges in but Jeremy King ducks underneath and hooks him into a sunset flip.]

1...

2...

Jackson: Save by Malik!!!!

[Chris King comes in and knocks Malik down with a right hand. Vince gets back up and gets knocked down with another right hand. Kurner gets back to his feet and cuts off a rushing Malik with a dropkick. Kurner picks up Vince and grabs a front face lock before taking Vince over with a snap suplex. Fred Kurner kips up to his feet and gets caught with a big boot to the face from Jeremy King. Malik pulls Will Sates to his feet as Fred Kurner comes in and nails Malik with a flying forearm to the mouth sending him over the top rope. Kurner quickly scales up to the top turnbuckle before flying off with a flying body block knocking Malik down.]

Sanchez: Looks like Malik got his teeth smashed up from that shot.

[Sates slowly picks up Vince and connects with a thunderous chop to the chest before sending him into the ropes. Will barely gets up off the ground and goes for a Hurricanrana but Vince stops in his tracks and drives Sates down to the mat with a powerbomb into a pin.]

1...

2...

Jackson: No one wants to lose this match.

[Sates just barely gets the left shoulder up while Vince complains about the count. Malik grabs a nearby chair and goes for a home run swing but Kurner ducks under and Malik gets nothing but ring post. Vince picks up Sates and whips him into the ropes but Will reverses the whip and catches Vince in a fireman's carry and nails him with a Samoan drop just as he grabs his ribs. Sates gets to his feet when Jeremy King sneaks behind him and grabs a single underhook DDT.]

Sanchez: CONFEDERATE BREAKER!!!!!

Jackson: Sates is out cold.

Sanchez: Wait a minute. There’s Kurner sneaking in the back door.

[Jeremy King gets up slightly dazed when Kurner turns him around into a boot into the midsection and grabs a front facelock.]

Jackson: BILLION-DOLLAR BUSTER!!!!!

[Kurner makes the cover and hooks the leg.]

1…

2…

Sanchez: Malik is trying for the save.

3!!!!

[The ref calls for the bell…Ding!!!! Ding!!!!]

Jackson: The Billionaire Brats win the OCW Tag Team Titles here at Summer Games.

[Kurner grabs Sates and roll him out of the ring when the ref hands them the OCW Tag Titles.]

Voice over: "I am TTO, and that is all you need to know."

Mario Jackson: "Oh great. Here comes OCW's favorite."

Sylvia Sanchez: "If there was ever a person who deserved to be a victim of a mugging, it's this guy."

Mario Jackson: "Just relax Sylvia, he'll get his in the end."

[The lights dim down and "Animal I've Become" by Three Days Grace begins to play as Sean Jackson emerges on the entrance ramp. As soon as they see him, the Hispanic fans immediately begin to boo him as they've heard his stance on immigration, and the vile comments made towards Hispanics. As he starts heading towards the ring, he takes out a house mic and begins speaking.]

Jackson: "Hey, just so you people know. I just got off the phone with immigration, and they're on their way."

[Without fail, dozens of Hispanics begin to race for the exits, fearing that what Sean Jackson has said is true.]

Jackson: (starting to laugh) "They fall for it every time."

Sylvia Sanchez: "Mr. Vino had better do something about this guy, because I'm not going to tolerate much from him tonight."

[As he continues to stroll towards the ring, he begins to turn his attention towards the announce crew, most notably Sylvia Sanchez.]

Jackson: "Now that we've gotten rid of the English speaking illegal aliens, let's start working on the ones who don't understand proper English."

Mario Jackson: "Just don't do anything stupid Sylvia."

[She is digging her fingernails deep into the announce table, to say that Sean Jackson has gotten under her skin is an understatement. If she could kill this man and get away with it, she would have already done so.]

Jackson: "Starting with that little Mexican whore at the announcers table..."

Sylvia Sanchez: "Excuse me?"

Mario Jackson: "Uh oh!"

[More boos.]

[He now enters the ring, standing directly in front of Sylvia Sanchez.]

Jackson: "Yeah, well screw you son of a bitches as well..."

[Sure, that went over well.]

Jackson: "Now then, as I stand here in front of yet another Mexican dominated crowd. I wonder just how many white American fans didn't get tickets because of you mother fuckers?"

[Stuff starts flying in the ring as Sean continues to blast away, still staring straight into the eyes of the one woman who wants to kill him dead...]

[Sylvia Sanchez.]

Jackson: "Well don't worry, because the only reason why I'm here is because the World Wrestling Alliance forced us to come here..."

[He looks around.]

Jackson: "To this place, a place that resembles Mexico in the only way that it can..."

Sylvia Sanchez: "Don't you dare say it."

[He gets that shit eating smirk on his face. Oh yes, he's going to coin a phrase that Eric Dane made famous.]

Jackson: "It smells like piss."

[More boos.]

Jackson: "That's right bitch, I said that this place smells like piss. And from what I can see, the smell seems to be coming from..."

[He begins to look around the arena, but it isn't long before he is leaning over the ropes, again staring straight at Sylvia Sanchez, and he points directly at her.]

Jackson: "Right over THERE!"

[Sylvia leaps up from the announcers table. It is everything that Mario Jackson can do to hold her from flying into the ring. As security sees Mario struggling to keep her in check, they too come down to give assistance.]

Sylvia Sanchez: "Let me at him, let me at him."

[Sean then flips her off.]

Jackson: "Well here is something you can tell your Hispanic speaking fans Sylvia. You can tell them that they can kiss my ass."

[He goes to drop the mic, but hesitates.]

Jackson: "That is IF you can say it in proper English."

[Sylvia is now beside herself. As Mario and security attempt to hold her at bay, Sean takes this opportunity to fire one last shot at her.]

Jackson: "Hey, why don't you give up the Spanglish bull shit already. It was horrible enough when J-Lo did it, so we don't need any butt ugly rip-offs trying to copy it."

[He drops the mic and exits the ring. As security struggles to hold her back, he keeps flipping her off, trying to further piss her off. Finally he makes his way to the back, arguing with the Hispanic fans every step of the way.]

[It was here.]

[It had come.]

[The biggest event of the year.]

[The place where the alliance’s best gathered for a night of bloody betrayals and shattered dreams.]

[The place where the most coveted prize in the industry was fought over and won by breaking bodies and piling them high.]

[The man with the biggest pile wins.]

[But of course, the man with the biggest pile of them all wasn’t competing in the Games, nor was he involved in the World Title match. He was competing for something that would prove to be infinitely longer lasting and more influential then any of the other competitors could hope to achieve tonight.]

[This was the night that Victor Mandrake seized control of the alliance.]

[This was the night that he was to begin to shape and mold the alliance into his own design.]

[But tonight, Victor had another agenda in addition to changing the job title of Ryan Corey. This was the night that he sought to fill his empty arena in Rome with the frenzied mob that would cheer for every gallon of blood and shard of bone that was spilt and broken, and jeer for any ounce of leniency and mercy. Victor wished to bring to this alliance the most blood-thirsty crowd ever seen since the ancient days of the original Colosseum.]

[But first, he needed Gladiators.]

[Terry Woods walked through the parking garage with thoughts on his mind, and a phone on his ear.]

Woods: "I'm here. Heading to the front as we speak."

[Woods looked his normal, grim self. The product of his own demons. The blood stained tattoos on his hands were freshly inked, meaning he recently felt the need to re-live his past.]

[He was dressed in white leather, as usual. He sported a fresh shirt, the word "GLADIATOR" embedded across his chest. An eye-patch over his left eye, from a recent accident. Woods had yet to explain it, but it is believed he did not fall down the stairs and land on a doorknob.]

[Woods shut the phone as quickly as he had opened it, an obvious hint that a meeting between men was about to take place.]

[A meeting between men with a common goal.]

[Woods eyed the camera as it follows him towards the entrance to the arena. He couldn't help but smirk. Everyone wanted to get their fucking camera shot.]

[Especially since, by all rights and purposes, Woods wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, his ban still being in effect.]

[That situation would soon be remedied.]

Woods: “Do me a favor,” he said to the camera man. “If you see your boss, you know, the one all the way up the food chain, let him know that I’ll be seeing him shortly to ‘catch up’. Thanks.”

[Woods flashed the camera a wink with the only eye he could, and proceeded into the building.]

[The camera fades in to Ryan Corey, sitting in his locker room, already dressed and ready this early in the card....his match will most likely not take place for at least an hour and a half, if not two hours.]

[He wears the trademark long red tights, the right leg emblazoned with the word "Nightbringer" down the length. His red boots are on, the red wrist tape is secure, and his long red hair is back in the familiar ponytail. He hangs his head low.]

"So, here it is Victor. D-Day, as it were, for you and I. Time for one of us to make a statement that will shake the very foundations of this alliance. Either you tie our little battle, or I establish a clear and definitive advantage over you."

[Corey rocks back and forth a bit as he speaks.]

"Either I retain my controlling interest in the WWA, or you take it over. I've had a lot of time to think about that, Victor. You, in control of this alliance. The surge of power that will surely rush to your head if you win. The countless careers, nay even lives that you will crush to further your own personal vision of this alliance. I've thought about that a lot, Victor. I've had that weight on my mind every day since International Wars."

"You see, I accepted this match to save my wife's life. You, with Morrigan, surely would have done the same. But now, now that she is safe, I carry the hopes and dreams of thousands of wrestlers on my shoulders. I carry the hopes and dreams of millions of fans all around the world on my back. From the kid in Ireland, to the teenager in Rome, to the woman here in California, to the old man in Delaware. I hear all their voices in my head Victor."

"A lesser man, a less focused man, would crumble under that weight, under that pressure."

[Corey looks up, the ice-blue eyes of the killer he once was now all that is seen in the camera shot.]

"As you know, Victor, I am no ordinary man. I survived a gunshot from a .50 caliber Desert Eagle at close range. I survived forty-eight days of torture in the desert sands of the Middle East. I'm the only man walking the arenas of this alliance to defeat you more than twice. You know, perhaps better than anyone else, what you face when I stand across from you in the ring."

"You call yourself a cold-blooded killer. Willingly. One might even say that you revel in that evil. You've urged me to fulfill my destiny, to become the cold-blooded killer that you are, and to stand by your side, dominating the world together."

"All myth, Victor. All myth. As usual, you fail to understand the dynamic that exists between us. You always have. My destiny is secure, win or lose this match. My legacy is not in that ring, but in the lives of my children. Twice, I have been at the very top of this alliance's mountain. You have always failed to understand what drives me, what motivates me. You fail to understand why I continue in this sport, why I continue to stand up to you, and your ilk."

"All those wrestlers, all those fans, they don't pressure me Victor. They drive me on. The give me the courage, the will, and the fighting spirit to keep standing up for what is right, regardless of the personal cost. And you have never, ever, seen that. You've never understood the true source of my strength."

"And you never will, because you've turned your back on it. Because you refuse to stand for what they believe, because you fail to see. Much like the great literary villain of our day, Lord Voldemort, you are so obsessed with your own power that you have overlooked the most powerful things. The simplest things."

"My family. My Lord. The fans. The boys in the back, and secure futures for all of them. That's what drives me, Victor. That's what keeps me going. The one thing you can't extinguish, is the one thing that keeps me strong."

"So, Victor, what remains for you is precious little. When the chips are down, and you're inches from defeat at my hands, what will keep you from allowing the third count to fall? Pride? I've beaten you at the height of your pride. Courage? Alas, unless the odds are in your favor, you have none."

"So tonight, I don't fight for myself. I could care less what happens to me. No, I fight for them. The ones you would crush, the ones you would use. I fight for WCWA, HRW, HATE, FSW, WR, AWA, and even those you would sign to GEC. I fight for every wrestler in this alliance that wants simply a fair chance. I fight for every single fan that has ever, or will ever, purchase a ticket to a WWA event, or purchase a WWA pay-per-view show."

"One on one, Victor, it's a tossup between you and me. Even as good and as big as you are, though, one against millions isn't even fair, Victor."

"Let The Games Begin."

"Night Falls Soon, Victor Mandrake....the Nightbringer is coming to save this alliance's soul."

[The team members all came out to their respective boos and cheers. Though Josh Styles was easily the most hated member on Team WWA, the boos were much much louder for the whole of Team NWA. No matter how much the fans hated Styles or any other wrestler in the alliance, they were still their much hated wrestlers.]

[Team NWA was in foreign land. And they were not welcome.]

[The match started out as most matches with bad blood do.]

[Chaotic.]

[Styles started in for WWA, and Brannon for NWA. Styles, having recently been disgraced by the NWA, was finally able to release all those feelings of disrespected rage on to a representative of the corporation. Styles wasted no time making short work of the NWAer. Sure, Brannon got in a few moves here and there, but there just wasn’t anything Brannon could do against such unbridled anger.]

[Joey Brannon was eliminated at 5:43.]

[Styles, having worn himself out a little, tagged in Lemual Jordon, who met with Ronnie McNeil in the middle of the ring. The two duked it out back and forth for a while before Jordon tagged Maxx Devlin in. Devlin hopped in the ring with McNeil, but McNeil proved to be too much for Devlin.]

[Maxx Devlin was eliminated at 9:12.]

[Adrien Cochrane hopped into the ring, being the fresh man from WWA, and Ronnie tagged in Seamus MacArthur. Cochrane and MacArthur tied up and fought. Ultimately, it was Cochrane who gained the upper hand on Seamus with a pinfall. Vialetti tried to make the save, but Styles interrupted him with a dropkick right to the face.]

[Seamus MacArthur was eliminated at 14:06.]

[Vialetti became the legal man at that point as the ref chased Styles out of the ring. Cochrane and Vialetti didn’t fight for very long before Cochrane was able to tag out to Jordon. Jordon and Vialetti wrestled at length, but in the end, it was Jordon who got the upper hand on Vialetti.]

[Angelo Vialetti was eliminated at 18:32.]

[The three on one situation looked grim for Ronnie McNeil, but he stepped in regardless to face Jordon one on one with confidence. The confidence, it seemed, was well earned. McNeil beat Jordon squarely in the middle of the ring.]

[Lemual Jordon was eliminated at 21:52.]

[Josh Styles exploded into the ring to take on McNeil, intent and determined to end this match and put the NWA in his past forever. McNeil couldn’t do much to save himself except for one or two comebacks, but it wasn’t enough. Styles locked on his Submit, Bitch! crossface chicken-wing, and McNeil did exactly that.]

[Ronnie McNeil was eliminated at 23:10.]

[Team WWA wins: Josh Styles and Adrien Cochrane advance to the final.]

[Victor Mandrake strode confidently down the halls, coming upon the office of the current chairman of the executive committee, Robert VanSingleton. Victor barged in through the door. Robert looked up and sighed.]

"Victor. What a surprise."

"Oh, the evening's filled with surprises, Chairman," Victor taunted. "One surprise I heard in particular was that Eric Ramirez hasn't been performing as well as the alliance had hoped. So much so that OCW may be getting cut as soon as the broadcast is over."

"You should know better then to fill your head with backstage rumors, Mr. Mandrake," VanSingleton replied.

[Victor threw a manila envelope onto his desk.]

"And you should know better then to engage in the sorts of, shall we say, 'extracurricular activities' that I've photographed you doing in there."

[Robert frowned as he dug through the envelope, producing a set of polaroids. As he flipped through them, Robert's face went pale. Mandrake grinned.]

"What do you want?" Robert asked shakily.

"It's simple, really," Victor said. "OCW's on their way out. My federation is going to be on it's way in, effective immediately after OCW is dismissed. We wouldn't want the general public to know that an upstanding businessman like yourself is engaging in such atrocious activities, now do we?"

[Robert buried his head into his hands.]

"I thought so," Mandrake said. "Also, after I win tonight, I'm going to make an announcement. The board will stand by that decision and also standby any other decision I may happen to make. So long as that's understood and abided by, we'll get along just great."

[VanSingleton looked back at Mandrake, shooting daggers with his eyes.]

"Careful Chairman," Mandrake warned. "You so much as look at me in a way that I find to be displeasing, those pictures go public."

[Robert said nothing, just swallowed the defeat as Mandrake exited the office laughing.]

[The locker room was quiet and he stood there looking down at the book that had caused all this trouble. He was The Japanese Superman.]

Ryo-Wo: It begins tonight.

[Suddenly the door to the locker room opens and in strolls a masked man. He was called Demonio De la Sangre III.]

DDlS III: Tonight’s the night.

[The two eyes each other up.]

DDlS III: You know if you give me that book you won’t be hindered in anyway tonight. Fight me and you’ll lose, and you’ll ruin your chances later on.

Ryo-Wo: I’m surprised they let you in here with Lost Highway defunct.

DDlS III: I have my means.

Ryo-Wo: I think I’ll keep the book and use it to destroy you.

DDlS III: You don’t even know how.

[The two stared at each other quietly.]

DDlS III: Give me the book, kid. It’s the only way you’re going to…

[Suddenly a huge hand grabs the head of Demonio De la Sangre III and smashes it hard into the wall. The masked Luchador slides down the wall limp.]

Ryo-Wo: I guess you came for the book?

[The Einheri, WCWA wrestler walks in followed by his master, Bathasar Guldsen.]

Guldsen: [Motioning towards DDlS III] This is what you wanted the book to destroy? This is the demon I should be scared of?

[Bathasar chuckled.]

Guldsen: Pathetic. Give me the book.

[Ryo-Wo glances at the monster surprised.]

Ryo-Wo: His weakness is gone?

[Bathasar smiles.]

Guldsen: We all have tricks up our sleeves. Are you going to give me the book or are you going to take chances that my Monster won’t snap your neck tonight?

[Ryo-Wo reaches down and picks up the book.]

Ryo-Wo: You can’t hide weaknesses forever.

[Bathasar chuckled.]

Guldsen: What are you going to do about it?

[With a motion from Bathasar, The Einheri snatches the book from Ryo-Wo’s grasp.]

Ryo-Wo: This is a small alliance.

Guldsen: [Smirking] Not small enough for you.

[With a motion Bathasar backs up and leaves his monster following.]

Ryo-Wo: If it’s war you want I’ll bring your friends war.

[Ryo-Wo glances down to where Demonio once laid and his body is gone.]

Ryo-Wo: I have more important thing to worry about. Nothing else matters now.

[Cut to next segment.]

[We find one Mr. Danny Argus back stage in the hallway just outside the locker room, clad in a red sleeveless hooded sweatshirt and jeans, finally having shaven the stubble from his face and scalp. He leans back against the wall. It’s only a moment before red-haired Amy Remington walks into view.]

Argus: Alright, where the hell is he?

[Amy stops, having almost walked past him and into the locker room. She cocks an eyebrow in his general direction.]

Remington: You mean he isn’t here yet?

Argus: You’re his manager and you don’t know where he’s at?

[Amy takes a step back, having not gotten the third degree from Danny in quite awhile she doesn’t know how to respond.]

Remington: Look, he wanted to drive here separate because he said it’d help him clear his head before the match. He even left before I did!

Argus: [sighs] Whatever. You think he’s going to be ready?

[Amy scratches her head and looks at the floor, only a moment before looking back up at Danny.]

Remington: Between you and me, I’m not really sure. He hasn’t been himself.

[She’s cut short as Daemon himself walks into view, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He takes long strides up and nearly walks past the both of them and into the locker room.]

Remington and Argus: Where the hell have you been?

[Daemon stops dead and looks at them in much the same reaction Amy had to the same question earlier, but his look of confusion turns into arrogance and annoyance.]

Curtis: I ain't late.

Argus: You ain't ready yet either.

Curtis: Man! [shakes his head] I’ll fuckin’ be ready. O-C-Dub ain’t makin’ it past me no-how.

[Daemon shoves past them and into the locker room, leaving Danny pissed off and Amy concerned.]

(The following is in Japanese. But it has been subtitled for your viewing pleasure. Worship.)

[A small crowd of journalists was gathered. All of them Japanese. Most of them looking jetlagged as all hell. Bags under their eyes, clothes rumpled... They probably all came on the redeye flight at the same time, from Nippon to Cali, earlier this morning.]

[However, one of the Japanese assembled there was not all tired and road-weary. That man stood behind a podium, an AWA t-shirt on his chest. Slightly modified, of course, in the traditional wrestler's style. Sides were cut off, showing off the front and back of said shirt, with no damn sleeves or sides. Moustache neatly groomed, hair trimmed, nostril hair mowed down, face glowing... Kengoro looks as if he's spent time in a tanning bed, got exfoliated, got a manicure and pedicure, got head, and THEN got to the show.]

[A very good look for any man. And of course, he looks like his normal

“200 pounds of muscle, 40 pounds of thinly spread flab all over his frame” self. Slightly toned, mostly solid. It was... er... a powerlifter's build. Yeah, that's the ticket.]

“Thank you all for coming.”

[The journalists scritched and scratched away at their pads, wanting to get every word down. After all, this was the first press release that the Japanese wrestling press has had at a WWA pay-per-view with a native son of Japan in months. Years, maybe!]

“First of all, I just wished to tell you all what you already know, that this is the first press release done by a native son of Japan, at a World Wrestling Alliance pay-per-view, especially this, the crown jewel of the WWA, SUMMER GAMES! I am very appreciative for the opportunity to represent glorious Nippon here in the WWA, here at Summer Games.”

[Oh, the journalists were scratching furiously away, writing down everything that Kengoro Sugamoto, ½ of the Faces of Death was saying.]

“Tonight, the Faces of Death, Kengoro Sugamoto and Sergeiev Bogorovich, will face Stephen Greer and Tyrone Walker, for the All-Star Wrestling Association Tag Team Championships. It will be an epic fight, between one of the most renowned tag teams on the planet... and Team Danger.”

[A smirk.]

“But seriously, the opportunity that the AWA management has given Serbo and I is greatly appreciated. While the changing of the management is inevitable, I personally will be sad that the current management of the AWA seems to be changing. He has treated me well, and I know I speak for Sergeiev when I say that Marc Hightower will be missed.”

[A hand went up. Kengoro pointed.]

“Yes? You.”

“Are you sure you speak for Sergeiev?”

[Kengoro thought for a moment, tapping his well-shaved chin. Eyes angled skyward, as he silently thought for a moment. The pens stopped scratching over the paper, as everyone looked to the Japanese grappler.]

“...I know I speak for myself and Splenda when I say that Marc Hightower will be missed.”

[The pens resume scratching.]

“But tonight is the night where I prove all the naysayers wrong! I will attain championship gold, not against a has-been like Tatsumichi or a wanna-be like Akamatsu, or a never-was like Ramsey. Tonight, I will defeat Team Danger! My partner and I will cause the most powerful force in tag team wrestling, the stable, the legend, the war machine of Team Danger, to come to a crashing halt, and either Greer or Walker will be pinned cleanly.”

[Another hand went up.]

“Yes? You.”

“To be quite blunt, Mr. Sugamoto, every other time you have been given a shot at golden immortality, you have choked. You froze up and lost, with Yoritomo and against Ramsey. So, what makes tonight different?”

[Kengoro curled his lip in irritation at the journalist. How dare he speak this way?]

“That is a very impertinent question, and I am insulted. I did not “choke”, as you put it, I simply failed to achieve victory. I was reckless and not as experienced. But now, I have learned from my mistakes, and will apply this knowledge to Greer and Walker.”

“Mr. Sugamoto... Again, every other time, you have faced people who are legends in Japan only. Akamatsu, Tatsumichi, Ramsey... None of these men have achieved the kind of notoriety and name-brand recognition that a Team Danger has. How will a new partner help you when you have lost to men that some, especially Team Danger themselves, would claim are already inferior to Walker and Greer?”

[Kengoro's eyes widened, lip curled in a silent, feral snarl of anger. This... this reporter was being completely unfair, and also making Kengoro extremely angry. This would not stand... Kengoro almost jumped into the crowd, but Splenda, decked out in his very best, crystal-ended cane held under an arm, big golden aviator sunglasses perched on his nose, zebra-print cowboy hat on his head, with a massive feather in it, a huge wall clock around his neck on a spray painted gold chain, ran between the Japanese Wrestler and the crowd.]

“Whoa! Calm dah, big Suge! Mayne, no need t' get all killin' minded!”

[The American turned to the crowd, slipping behind the microphone. In perfect Japanese, Splenda began to speak.]

“Lemme put it like dis, mayne. Yo' punk ass axes who gon' win. Eff oh Dee o' Tee Dee. Yo' punk ass axes who's betta, Kengoro o' Walka, Serbo o' Greer. But one o' my main maynes' is gon' be killin' th' dynasty, one o' these homebwoys is gon' hu't somebody real bad... Yo' ass axes all dese things, all kin's o' dumb questions... But they's only one answer.”

[A grin from the black man, as he adjusted his pimp hat. It was stylish as hell.]

“Now, this is a story, all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down.”

[The journalists were confused. Who wouldn't be?]

“And I'd like to take a minute. Just... sit right there. I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.”

[Kengoro just blinked, and shook his head slowly. He turned, and walked right out of the press release room set up for all the WWA wrestlers. Splenda's teeth flashed as he kept rapping, out of the best of his memory. He wasn't Will Smith... but it wasn't TERRIBLY bad.]

[And yes, most of the journalists left before Splenda finished. Americans...]

[The AWA section of the locker room area, which is identified by the AWA banner hanging in the corner.]

[Sitting under the banner with his back against the wall, legs out in front of him, is a man some may recognize. Dressed in blue jeans, black hiking boots, dark sunglasses, and a white t shirt which simply says “The Best”. His shoulder length blonde hair is hanging freely. He notices the camera man and figures now’s a good time as any.]

“Please to meet ya. Hope you guess my name.”

[A familiar smile forms on his face.]

“Sorry about that. That damn song has been in head since I saw the Stones recently. Some of you may remember me, some may not. However, it won’t be long till all of you know just who the fuck I am.”

[Smile fades to a smirk.]

“You see the greatest wrestler alive today is once again back in the WWA. Notice I didn’t say entertainer or ass kisser, I said wrestler. You see there are a lot of stars here, some deserving of the acclaims, some not. I’m saying there isn’t one person here that can out wrestle me. Whether you love me or you hate me, the fact of the matter is I always back up what I say.”

[He stands up and stretches a bit. Smirk still on his face.]

“Yes it’s true, I have returned to the AWA. It’s been over a year since I dominated the place and just like last time I’m sure I’ll rise right up to the top in no time. After all I’m just simply...”

[He points to the shirt which says “The Best”.]

“You see I’m not just going to be content dominating the AWA. You see I’ve been there and done that. I’ve got bigger things in my sights this time around.”

[Smirk becomes a smile again]

“I doubt they will let me get anywhere near Bane, so I’m setting my sights on the DC champ Python. Well the DC champ whomever it is after this shindig we’re at is all said and done. So whoever it is, don’t get too comfortable, you’ll be seeing me soon.”

[He walks towards a room and closes the door. On the door is HJD in black spray paint.]

“So you ready?”

[We cut backstage as we see Calib Wallace standing behind his partner, Demetrius Burrell. Demetrius looks up at his partner, and just gives a gazed look, pondering the correct answer to the question. Happy go lucky, Calib smirks, tapping his strap a bit, trying to show dominance between the two.]

“Yeah sure.”

[Calib tosses the belt aside and sits down on the bench, giving a confused look to Demetrius. He nudges his shoulder, trying to get a grasp on the situation.]

“What gives bro? Serious. We have the ball in our court right now, we are the guys to beat in this thing, and you’re giving me a 'Yeah Sure' gimmick back? Are you kidding me right now?”

[Demetrius just looks at Calib and shakes his head a moment.]

“Don't talk to me about getting on the fucking ball when I tried to get a hold of you because I had something going on. You left me hanging, you weren't there. So why should I be here for you, or our team for that matter?”

[Calib stands up, shocked and almost upset at that comment, as he looks at his partner.]

“Excuse me? I wasn't even in the state, I had shit I had to take care of to save our chances. I was dealing with some shit that I didn't need to have you get involved in and slow me down with. You need to fuckin' relax and get on the same page right now, because we gotta go out and shut Team HRW down, fast.”

[Demetrius simply nods his head.]

“Yeah, I guess your right. We have to think about this though, we are kinda handicapped cause of the two losers on our team.”

[Calib just pulls a lighter out of his kick pad and plays around with it.]

“Simple fact being Demetrius, we don't need them. They will slow us down and probably get us in trouble. I say we just sit back, let them handle the dirty work, and then finish the job off after, getting us both into the finals.”

[Calib flips it open a few more times, as the initials 'RC' are on display right for Burrell's eyes, who catches notice to them.]

“How the hell? Where did that come from?”

[He closes it, and puts it back into his kick pad, giving a faint smirk.]

“Don't worry about it, let's just say I had to handle something before the show. Just think of it as we have fewer distractions from now on.”

[Demetrius looks at Calib confused]

“Nah, hold on a second, that's Cooke's lighter and the last I checked he was dead. So where did that come from? I think you owe me some damn answers here.”

[Calib just pauses, thinking about the one phrase that was told to him a few times by Ryan through notes.]

“Let's just say, the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.”

[He stands up and grabs his belt, giving a smirk to Demetrius, before turning to the door. Demetrius stops him short though before he can leave.]

“I gotcha bro, that's all I wanted to know.”

[Without saying anything, Demetrius shows that he understands what's going on.]

“So where do we go from here?”

[Calib smirks, picking up Burrell's Arena Title, tossing it over to him.]

“Where else man, the ring to take home the victory.”

[Demetrius grins as he stands up, and follows Calib out of the room.]

[Fade.]

[With black leather tights and boots, Angel of Death steps in front of a large white banner that reads HRW. The cruiserweight of the bunch, steps to plate to replace Dante Greco for personal reasons took his absence from Summer Games. Yet this kid is more than hungry, willing to take the last minute opportunity to make a name for himself outside of the HRW by taking the slot. He reaches up, he sliding his hand over the side of his face as his long black hair is tied behind him in a single ponytail.]

[Soon after, he is followed by Ryo Wo, only twenty-two years of age the ‘Japanese Superman’ steps next to Angel of Death and crosses his arms over his chest. His black hair is cropped short as he stares into deep into the camera not uttering a single word. He wears a black t-shirt with HRW written across the chest in bold red print as he tilts his head to the single a single crack seems the echo throughout the room.]

[The very first Manhattan Island Champion, the very first champion of the HRW and the man who brought victory to the HRW at International Wars, stands Cobra. His full snake-print body suit is complete with his trademark Cobra mask that has struck fear into the hearts of many competitors in and out of the Alliance alike. He comes into Summer Games wanting to make a impression that I-Wars wasn’t a fluke and despite his lose for the Double Crown Title, he’s more than a threat to be reckon with…he’s a force.]

[And then, there was the ‘rookie’ in Justin Brooks, He completes the picture as he stands next to Cobra, wearing a white Under Armor shirt and black mesh shorts, with taped wrists, the young twenty-three year old firefighter rounds out what is considered the underdog at Summer Games. The kid, like the other three, has something to prove…his lack of experience is nothing to look down upon. He’s hungry and with a head of steam and momentum behind him, he’s going to make them all take notice that Justin Brooks isn’t a play-by-night deal. He’s the –real- deal.]

[They represent the Hudson River Wrestling, that you call the HRW. They represent what wrestling is, each man with his one strengths, each man with his own goals and aspirations in mind, each man wanting what everyone wants.]

[A shot at the WWA World Heavyweight Championship…]

[Angel of Death steps up to speak. ]

"I may be new here, and I may be replacing Dante Greco, but don't think for one second that I'll be a pushover. Turner, I remember you from the King of the Deathmatch Tournament, and I remember what Greer did to take you out. I'll be more than ready for anything you can dish out. The rest of you neanderthals won't know what hit you! I'm a former WWA and NWA World Cruiserweight champion, well deserved titles in both cases. I've held a World Heavyweight Title on two separate occasions in promotions not affiliated with the WWA. I may be small, but I'm quick, I'm precise, and I'm deadly."

[Angel of Death takes a moment to look away from the camera and smile to himself, filling his heads with rather sadistic thoughts before continuing.]

"I'm the guy that took on David Paige, a man who has a chance at becoming WWA World Heavyweight Champion, and very nearly beat him in the King of the Deathmatch Tournament. If I can go toe to toe with the number three ranked wrestler in the whole WWA, then exactly how do you each feel you measure up? Turner? Wallace? Burrell? Code? Any of you come within a few seconds of beating a top contender here? Wallace, you're ranked fifth. My own teammate here is ranked seventh! Not a single one of you stands a chance against the four of us. Hudson River Wrestling will soon establish itself as the premiere promotion in the WWA, and Summer Games will be the place to do it! Team AWA will fall at our feet in glorious defeat as Brooks, Cobra, and Ryo-Wo and myself show the world just what Hudson River Wrestling is all about!"

[Angel takes a step back as Ryo Wo steps forward, taking his place in front of the other three men.]

“Do you hear it?”

“The roar of the crowd? The praise? The inevitable taste of failure that you will be introduced to?”

“Summer Games marks the pinnacle of mans conflict amongst themselves. The true mark of a man is to put all that has happened behind them and to reach for greatness itself. Soon we shall be arrayed against each other in a bloody battle. Sweat, blood, and determination all entwined.”

“Do you see it?”

“Summer Games. Where the best stand across from the best and those who have warred against each other stand as allies. The weak allow their differences to eat through their teamwork like an American eats through a cake.”

“We are above that. We are what you aspire to be. You sleep at night and wish to have been what I was at the age of sixteen.”

“The Future Of Puroresa.”

“You wish to be a symbol of everything that is right in the world. You dream that you could stand in the ring as a man whose blood if laced with the power of the gods and whose heart is empowered with destiny.”

“You can’t be that though. You can’t be perfection. You can’t be me. You can’t toss away your past like a baby with the bathwater. I can. I’m better than you.”

“Can you smell it?”

“The stench in the air. The smell of trans fat sweat and poor hygiene. The stench of you countrymen. The stench of decay. The decay of civilization.”

“Of course you don’t sense it. The smell, the images, the sounds are nothing to you. You don’t care about the future. You don’t care about the mistakes of the past. You hope for the glory with out a thought to the cost. You care about the zeros on your check.”

“I am better.”

“We are better. We are superior.”

“Calib, Goliath, Code and Burrell. You are nothing more than symbols of defeat. One by one you shall fall to the sword of the alliance. The warriors who have the heart to win by any means necessary. You are weak. Walk away. Walk away.”

“We are HRW.”

“We are One.”

[Ryo takes a step back as Cobra steps forward, he seems to slightly perplexed for a moment as his eyes have yet to made contact with the camera.]

“Cobra: They say that a team is only as good as its weakest link. Those things crumble once that weakest link hits that breaking point. No matter how good and dominant the other members of the team are, it is the weakest link that has the most important impact on the result. It is a scary thought that with my team, I am that weakest link.”

“With a losing streak that stretches back to the last WWA PPV, I can be seen as the reason why the HRW could crumble in out match against the AWA. A man that hasn’t won since the middle of May. A scary thought for these guys around me. They’ve all expressed their concerns, hell I would be too if I were in their shoes. But the fact of the matter is that we are putting all that aside. We are putting everything aside. We are coming together as a team regardless of our recent past.”

“To lose is a humbling thing. I certainly know what it feels like. A chance at the HRW title; taken away by this rookie next to me. A shot at the Double Crown title; defended easily by the champ. The possibility of becoming the captain of this team; outmatched by the three of these men. Three major losses, to some of the best in the game right now.”

“But with every loss you come out with something. You learn from the mistakes. You grow stronger. That is exactly what has happened here to me. I have learned from every loss. I have grown stronger. I have built up this want, this need, to prove to everyone that this is just a small setback in my goal to become the WWA World champion.”

“I accept the fact that currently I am the weakest link on this team. It is another reason for me to go above and beyond what people think I am capable of. I am here to show the world exactly what I am about and most importantly I am here to win.”

“It’s a scary thought that I’m the weakest link on this team. A top contender for the HRW title, one of the top Double Crown title contenders, and a contender for the World Title at one point earlier this summer. A pretty impressive resume for a guy that is supposed to hold the HRW team back. It just shows how stacked this team is with talent.”

“The way we see it here tonight, team HRW is not only going to win their first round match against the lowly AWA boys, but all four members of the team are going to advance. That’s right. Even me. The weakest link. That’s just how good we are, and that’s just how determined we are as a team tonight.”

“So what then happens in the big Summer Games finale? All four HRW men come at each other and combust over bad blood. Ruining everyone’s chances at a WWA world shot. No. That’s for another time. That’s for the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City. No. Tonight is going to be so much bigger for the HRW. Tonight is going to be one of the most memorable WWA moments in its history. Tonight it is going to be team HRW in the final four of the main event. Battling it out over bad blood and a world title shot.”

“Only one man can win Summer Games. It will be coming from the HRW. It will be someone no one expected. It will be the weakest link. It will be Cobra.”

[Justin steps up to the dish as Cobra takes a step back slowly.]

“So I guess it’s my turn to speak on this, huh?”

“What to say that hasn’t all ready be said by these three men behind me.”

“The team captain left us in mid-stream and you know it, it didn’t break our stride. We found a more than capable replacement with Angel back here and we’re still rolling strong like never before because we got it like that. We show up and we show out. Zero Nowhere.”

“What is Zero Nowhere? It’s simple…it’s not mystery…we don’t like each other. And if it wasn’t for Summer Games, you’d never see these four faces in the same room, let alone on the same team but you know what, this is bigger than –all- of us and we know this. So just for a few days…we can put all the bullshit…all the animosity…all the anger…all the rage…and focus it on everyone in the WWA. Focus on everyone who says we don’t have it in the tank to take on the AWA…the WR…the WCWA…Team WWA. I got two for that.”

[Justin shrugs his shoulders.]

“Fuck ‘em.”

“We’re Team HRW. You can’t stop us, you can’t contain us…you can just only hope that we leave enough of you to be recognized once the night is over with. The Angel of Death, The Cobra…the Japanese Superman…and The Firefighter, who’s going to prove us wrong?”

“AWA or the OLW?”

“OCW or Team WWA?”

“WR or WCWA?”

“Or maybe the NWA?”

“Take a number and get a clue, no one can hold a candle to this crew because whatever you bring, we bring it harder, faster, stronger, and better. We are agile, mobile, and hostile…and if you stand in the way it’s pretty simple what will happen.”

[He looks over at the three men behind who simply shake their heads.]

All- “You just get run over.”

[Team HRW came out first, hooting and hollering like a band of men ready to go to war. There wasn’t really anyone who stood out as a leader, rather, they came out all as leaders of the same team, ready to live, fight, and die for the other. Team AWA came out in similar fashion, though Calib Wallace made it more known that he was the one running the show. Whereas HRW wanted to win Summer Games for the team and the fed, Wallace wanted to win it for his World Title shot.]

[Angel of Death and Code got things underway, bouncing and flying around the ring like only two cruiserweights can. Code got an early advantage with a quick bulldog, then with lightning fast speed, got to the top turnbuckle and executed a 450 splash.]

[Unfortunately for Code, AoD put up his knees.]

[Code reeled from the sudden loss of breath, which gave AoD the chance to capitalize on the situation. AoD hopped up on the ropes to launch down upon the prone Code, but Wallace came from behind and shook the ropes, causing AoD to land on his groin. Code sprung on the opportunity and leapt up onto the top rope, wrapping his legs around AoD’s head and flipping backwards for the super Hurricanrana. Code motioned to the rest of his team as he made the pin. As expected, Team HRW rushed the ring, but was met by Team AWA as the ref made the count.]

[Angel of Death was eliminated at 5:24.]

[The ring turned into an all-out brawl between the two teams. The ref managed to get the brawl to the outside of the ring and declared Ryo-Wo the legal man for HRW. Code and Ryo-Wo fought each other bitterly while their teammates distracted each other on the outside. Their fighting was briefly interrupted by the sounds of a crunching table.]

[Apparently, Calib Wallace decided he didn’t like Cobra and powerbombed him through the announcer’s table.]

[However, despite the ongoing distraction, Code and Ryo-Wo fought cleanly and uninterrupted, which was unfortunate for Code, as he fell victim to Ryo-Wo.]

[Code was eliminated at 8:50.]

[As the brawl on the outside came to a close, the men got back into their respective corners. Goliath stepped in for AWA, and Ryo-Wo tagged in the more evenly matched Justin Brooks. Brooks and Goliath fought together, having a few pins here and there broken up by their respective team members. Finally, though, through the cunning of Cobra and Ryo-Wo, Justin Brooks was able to score a pin on Goliath while the other two members of the team were distracted.]

[Goliath was eliminated at 12:35.]

[Demetrius Burrell slid in the ring and attacked Brooks, but Brooks managed to retaliate with a clothesline, which gave him enough time to tag in Cobra. Still shaking the cobwebs out from the prior trip through the announcer’s table courtesy of Wallace, Cobra made his way into the ring less then 100%. This probably wasn’t the smartest move by Team HRW, since Burrell was at 100%, and thus, made short work of Cobra.]

[Cobra was eliminated at 15:26.]

[Ryo-Wo hopped back into the ring, the fresher of the two men. Ryo-Wo played it smart and kept Burrell from tagging Wallace in, which allowed Ryo-Wo to exploit Burrell’s fatigue after fighting Cobra. Burrell got his kicks in as well, but as he went to tag in Wallace, Brooks had already hopped down to the outside and made his way to AWA’s corner to distract Burrell.]

[That wasn’t the smartest decision by Brooks. Sure, it distracted Wallace long enough for Ryo-Wo to put down Burrell and get the pin, but Brooks received a vicious knock on the skull when Wallace rammed it into the ring steps.]

[Demetrius Burrell was eliminated at 19:19.]

[Ryo-Wo, stiffness starting to set into his muscles, was forced to fight a focused, determined, and more importantly, fresh Calib Wallace while his only help lied semi-conscious on the outside. Ryo-Wo fought valiantly, but ultimately it was Wallace’s lust for the gold that beat the cruiserweight’s courage.]

[Ryo-Wo was eliminated at 21:06.]

[Wallace cracked his neck from side to side as he waited for Brooks to slide into the ring. Realizing he was the only one left, Brooks slid in with confidence that he could beat Wallace on his own.]

[And he nearly beat him.]

[After narrowly escaping a pinfall after Brooks’ finisher, Wallace rallied back and put Brooks down with a piledriver on the same patch of skull that was rammed into the stairs earlier.]

[Justin Brooks was eliminated at 27:22.]

[Team AWA wins: Calib Wallace advances to the final.]

[He stood in front of the door that used to be the entrance to Vince Webb's office. Since Summer Games came to the WCWA, they forced Vince to relinquish his office for the night to one Chance Wolfington, part owner and operator of the World Wrestling Alliance.]

[Victor grinned. It amused him for some reason.]

[He burst in through the door with a sort of dark enthusiasm, the same excitement that a serial killer feels when he's stalking his prey while the beg, plead, and try to run for their lives. But they know they're going to die horrifically anyways.]

[They always do.]

"Hello, Chance."

[Chance looked up from the paperwork he was working on, unamused. He set his pen down on his desk, crossed his arms, and sighed.]

"Well Victor, aren't you just a peach tonight?"

"Of course I am," Mandrake said as he sat down in the chair in front of the desk. "Why wouldn't I be? Aftter all, I'm in the presence of the man who's about to become my close and personal business partner."

[Chance snorted.]

"You seem awfully sure of yourself, Victor."

"Of course I do," Victor said. "You give me one good reason why you think the Nightbringer would prevail and I'll lie down for him in the middle of that ring and you'll never see me again."

"How about the fact that he's willing to die to keep this place from you?" Wolfington asked.

"Actually," Mandrake said matter-of-factly, "that's more of a convenience then anything else because I'd be more then happy to help him achieve that goal."

[Chance shook his head.]

"What do you want, Victor?"

"It's simple, really," Mandrake said. "Once I become the majority owner of this alliance, there's going to be certain things that I'll be implementing that I know for a fact you won't be happy with."

"Such as?" Chance asked.

"In due time," Mandrake teased with a grin. "What I'm trying to say is, stay out of my way, and I won't have to make sure you wind up like how Ryan will be after tonight. Broken, bloodied, and without any say in this alliance."

[Chance grinned.]

"Listen, Victor," he started, "I'm sure you'd like to think that you'd be some omnipotent man wielding unlimited powers within this alliance should you beat Ryan tonight, but keep in mind that there are certain ways that an owner can be circumvented and ousted from their position should they be deemed as abusing their power or not acting in the best interests of the alliance. You should read the by-laws sometime. They're really quite informative."

"Oh I've read them," Victor said with a grin. "Especially the part where an owner needs to be thoroughly investigated and obtain a three-fourths majority to oust another owner from their position. How long do you think that usually takes? Weeks? Months? With that kind of timeframe, I could just as easily dispose of you as you could of me."

"If you think that you can just come in here and-" Chance started.

"However," Victor interjected, cutting Chance off, "I don't want our partnership to begin to a rough start. I have every bit of faith in you that you know what's best for the company. I would hope that you would place the same amount of faith in me."

"The only faith I have in you is that you never fail to twist and manipulate everything around you to your agenda."

"Well in that case your mind should be put at ease," Mandrake said. "My agenda is no different then yours. I seek, just as you do, to take the alliance to heights that it's never been before."

"I'm pretty sure your vision of where to take the alliance and my vision contrast greatly."

[Victor smirked.]

"That may be, but I guess we're just going to have to wait and find out, won't we?"

"I guess so," Chance said.

"I'll be seeing you very soon, partner..."

[Victor got up and exited the room, letting the concept of him being his new business partner sink in. He didn't care what Chance thought. He didn't care what by-laws or text-book definitions he could throw at him. Victor had his ways. Victor has his, methods, so to speak, of insuring that he would be in power for a long time to come. Nothing can stop him now.]

[Nothing.]

[The camera fades in to a seemingly deserted locker room and pans slowly to the right. The sold-out Riot Center crowd cheers as their vision settles on Adrien Cochrane shaking his head dismally and unpacking a bag. He pauses for a second and looks at the three other bags lying next to it, mumbling to himself.]

Adrien: Bah… all this junk... damn Clint and Brandie...

[Adrien lowers his head and reaches again for the contents of the bag, but he’s interrupted by a voice to his left. He spins readily toward the source standing in the doorway.]

Python: Gee freakin’ whiz, Adrien.

[The fans cheer once again as tonight’s defending Double Crown Champion approaches his friend, clapping a hand on his shoulder and sitting beside the luggage with an amused look on his face.]

Python: I travel with a backpack and occasionally a duffel bag. What on earth could you possibly be carrying in four bags?

[Adrien looks back with a smile.]

Adrien: I don't know. I'm finding out myself, Matt...I mean, Python...can I call you Matt backstage?

Python: Matt Backstage... I like that. Has a nice ring to it.

Adrien: Haha that's totally not what I meant.

[Adrien throws out a snow coat out of his bag.]

Adrien: Seriously, why the hell did they pack this? It's the middle of August and hotter than freaking hell out here.

[Python shrugs his shoulders. Adrien closes the bag and tosses it to the side.]

Adrien: One down, three to go...let's see which bag they put the thing I need for the little contest I'm brewing up.

[Python cocks a curious eyebrow.]

Python: Contest?

Adrien: Long story...you'll see. But seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do with a pair of Clint's drumsticks?

[Python shrugs his shoulders and chuckles. He decides to humor Adrien with a ridiculous suggestion.]

Python: I don't know.. sodomy?

[Adrien makes a sarcastic smile.]

Adrien: Nah, not my style. I give up...

[Adrien tosses the bag to the side. Python looks in it and pulls out an air horn. His jaw falls a little bit and he pauses, clearly at a loss for words.]

Python: An... air horn?

[Adrien quickly snatches the air horn from his bewildered friend's hand. He suddenly seems to be bursting with excitement.]

Adrien: MATT!! YOU FOUND IT!!

Python: Yes!

[The two slap a quick high five, shouting excitedly.]

Adrien: THANK YOU MAN, THIS IS AWESOME!

Python: I KNOW, IT'S AN AIR HORN!

Adrien: YEAH!

Python: I LOVE AIR HORNS!

Adrien: YEAH!!!

Python: WHY IN THE NAME OF PETER GILMOUR'S SWEET KNEE SOCKS DO WE NEED AN AIR HORN!?

[Adrien looks at Python, lowering his eyebrows.]

Adrien: I need it for the contest I'm running.

[Python resumes his bewildered state.]

Python: ...should I even ask what it's for?

Adrien: Probably not. I was beginning to think they didn't pack it after I reminded them at least twenty times.

Python: Ah. That would have been a bummer... I think.

[Python takes one last reproachful glance at the contents of the bags and clears his throat, apparently deciding to move on.]

Python: So. How does it feel to be a part of something as huge as Summer Games? Enjoying the spotlight?

Adrien: Spotlight's cool, I mean, this is the most attention I've gotten in my seven years of wrestling. But I just feel like I don't deserve it.

Python: Nonsense. Apparently SOMEONE thinks you deserve it if you were chosen to represent team WWA. Those teams weren't picked at random, you know.

Adrien: Yes, that may be, but I'm just a filler person, just there to make it an even four.

[Python scratches his head, his mouth twisting into a disbelieving smile.]

Python: You know, I don't get you sometimes. You're a great wrestler making a name for yourself. People are finally starting to recognize that you're a young, naturally talented, up and coming fighter who is worthy of matches like this. If everyone else thinks you can hang, why don't you?

[Adrien looks himself.]

Adrien: In the wise words of Dexter Holland, "But that's okay cuz' I'm a sucker with low self-esteem!! Oh way yoooooooooo heeeyyyy ohhhhh way yo way hey hey!!!"

[Python shakes his head in disbelief, almost laughing. Adrien blows his air horn, gets up, pats Python on the back, and heads out.]

Python: Ah, yes. The typical symptoms of post-conversation-with-Adrien syndrome.

...

Python: All you know is you are standing in an empty locker room with a smile, a partial loss of hearing, and NO idea what the hell just happened.

[Cut.]

[We bring you backstage, and the shining face of backstage reporter, Mr. X.]

Mr. X: Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to take you LIVE into the locker room of the Conspiracy, the World Tag Team Champions. Rumor has it that Wyatt Connors has a big announcement planned for tonight!

[He turns and knocks on a door, which has a sign that says "CONSPIRACY" conveniently taped on it. The door opens, and the head of "Rotten" T.J. Ratigan pokes out.]

Ratigan: You bring our sandwiches?

Mr. X: No, I'm here to interview--

[T.J. frowns, then closes the door.]

Mr. X: Hey! I've got a job to do here--

[The door opens again, only now it is "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors who is facing the camera.]

Connors: Sorry about that. Trevor gets a little excited about his food. Now, what is it you want.

Mr. X: Word has it that you're going to make a statement tonight concerning the person who attacked you, all the way back at I-Wars.

Connors: We plan to make a statement tonight, yes.

Mr. X: Who was the culprit?

Connors: Right. Because first I'm going to tell everyone I have a big announcement, and then I'm going to spoil it by blurting out the secret to you. That sounds likely.

Mr. X: But the people want to know--

Connors: Then they can wait. They paid for the show, after all. I'm actually tempted to tell my boys that you did it, just to see them try to stuff you into a locker.

[Mr. X looks concerned for a moment, but he presses on. He's a trooper.]

Mr. X: Do you have anything to say to the challengers tonight?

Connors: No.

Mr. X: Okay. Umm...why not?

Connors: Listen, pal. Push your 'hardnosed investigator' shtick somewhere else. We're not telling you anything about our plans tonight, for Superiority Complex OR the bastard who ambushed me three months ago. Just know that when the time comes, they'll ALL get what's coming to them.

[And, with that, Wyatt Connors closes the door. Mr. X, feeling slightly dizzy but otherwise unshaken, turns back to the camera.]

Mr. X: There you have it. Very...mysterious words from the Wise Guy. Mr. X, backstage at Summer Games, reporting.

[Cut.]

[We cut backstage to one of the many dressing rooms lining one of the back hallways of the arena. With such a bulk of talent a huge block of conference rooms were sectioned off to form little cubical for each grappler to dress and gather their thoughts before their respective matches. Sitting quietly, back to back on the same bench we find WR Saint and Sinner Tag Team Champions, Adam Burke and Evan Hurley. Burke pulling on his knee pads, Hurley scribbling some nonsense on the tops of his tightly wrapped hands in white magic marker.]

[The silence is palpable for a good thirty seconds before anyone speaks.]

Hurley: This is a pretty big deal.

Burke: [nods, continues pulling on his gear]

Hurley: I just..

Burke: [looking up] What?

Hurley: Nothing.. [goes back to his doodling]

Burke: Don't do that.

Hurley: Do what? [looking back up]

Burke: Start some obviously out of character mushy statement then stop, it's silly.

Hurley: What makes you think I was going to say anything mushy?

Burke: Please, Evan, I know you. You've been through hell, we've reconciled, we've mended our fences, we're tag champions, and now we're side by side at a huge alliance wide event. It just fits that you'd drop the tough guy act and say something uncharacteristically heart warming.

Hurley: Well shit..

Burke: Yeah.

[The room falls back to silence, both men going back to what they were doing.]

Hurley: [stopping, looking up] What the hell, you know me that well?

Burke: We grew up together, I've worked with you for years, we've traveled all over the world together, I've pulled all manner of sharp metal objects out of your face, back, chest, and ass, so yeah, I figure I have a handle on you.

Hurley: ...

Burke: Listen, in the end that's what makes us a good tag team, I know what you're going to do, and you know what I'm going to do. That's how and why this thing we have here works.

Hurley: I don't know what you're going to do..

Burke: You don't huh? How do you think this little segment will end?

Hurley: Shit if I know, how?

Burke: No, no, give it a shot.

Hurley: Well...knowing what I do about you…

Burke: Yeah…

[The duo, fully geared up, get up and start walking towards the door.]

Hurley: …you'll probably…

[At that exact second Adam slams face first into an open locker door, sending him off camera and down to the floor.]

Hurley: …pull some completely in character slapstick insanity, totally undermining any sort of emotional or poignant message we might have stumbled upon in the last minute or so?

Burke: [weakly, from the floor] Booyah! See?!

Hurley: [a soft sigh, walking off camera towards the door]

[Short silence.]

Burke: [from the floor] Lil' help?

[Wrist-tape wrapping time. The Japanese sat on the dingy little chair, one of two pieces of equipment in the room. The other was... another chair. That one was full of Russian. The kickboxer sat, strapping his fingerless punch-gloves on. Aside from the sounds of tape ripping and Velcro rustling, the room was deadly silent.]

[Kengoro wrapped the tape, again and again, and again, around wrist and thumb and individual fingers. Wanna make sure you protect all those vital digits. Serbo kept re-checking the Velcro on his glove. Check glove, punch. Check glove, punch. Adjust Velcro. Check glove, punch. Check glove, punch. Adjust Velcro. Repeat ad nauseum.]

[The door to the little room, little more than a broom closet, opened outward with a squeak. Splenda leaned in his head, pearly whites gleaming. He wore the same zebra-striped pimp hat he wore before, crushed velvet with a peacock plume in it. The clock was still around his neck, the cane was in one hand. A lovely maroon velour suit on his lanky form, a tie of fine leopard-print satin. He looked like an amalgamation of every pimp in every Hollywood blaxploitation flick ever made, crossed with Flava Flav.]

“Yo' asses ready, my main maynes?!”

[Serbo's glare to Splenda could cut steel. The little man shrunk back slightly, as Kengoro flicked a glance up, to Splenda, and then to Serbo. The Japanese stood, adjusted the waistband of his spandex trunks. They were comfy, and worked well for his movements in the ring. Maybe he'd need to hit the Infinite Eclipse Smash tonight.]

[Serbo slowly rose as well, fingers clenching in the gloves. His baggy black shorts, made for a trip to the gym, a round in the boxing or ultimate fighting ring, or just quick jog, hung from thickly muscled hips. Rising onto the balls of his feet, Serbo tested his standard stance. Very acceptable.]

“Goro. Mayne. You ready?”

[The big Japanese looked up, fingers clenching. Knuckles popped as he tightened up his fists. A quick waggle of each foot, then a crack of the neck left, and right. His long hair perfectly trimmed, Kengoro's eyes lighted on Splenda, and he slowly nodded.]

“Yes. It is time to destroy.”

“Mayne. Remember. No pain.”

[Kengoro nodded, as he watched Splenda.]

“No pain. Total victory. Scorched earth.”

[Splenda clapped his hands, shuffling his feet in a quick butterfly step. He was amped. First payperview, and he didn't even need to wrestle, just make sure that his charges would win.]

“Dat's zacktly it, mayne! YES!”

[Serbo rose to his full height, as Kengoro stepped forward, sliding past Splenda. The Russian Superman looked to Splenda.]

“Have you brought her?”

[Splenda's joy was visibly diminished as he looked to Serbo. The Russian just seemed to put a damper on everything he touched.]

“Yeah, mayne. Got 'er all dress'd up nice.”

[Serbo nodded, and walked forward, booted feet slapping the concrete quietly. He walked to Splenda, who stepped aside, eyes averted downward. Serbo had that effect on people.]

“Good. Kengoro?”

[The Japanese formed up alongside Serbo, hands clenched into fists.]

“Time to destroy.”

[A fist slammed into a palm, Kengoro nodding once, firmly. On this, they were both in total agreement.]

[Team Danger lost their belts to a dominant team in Faces of Death. Match to be added later.]

[There they sit, next to each other, looking up at me. I see among them a real team, one that comprises of a young ego, a veteran's talent, an undiscovered hero, and a dark horse. I see, possibly, the most underrated team in the whole event, Team WCWA. Underrated and in our own arena, bullshit.]

"I'm not going to lie to you two..."

[I look at Hobo and Hanson, directly at them. I see their eagerness, their actions show that they are anxious to get this thing going. Feet are tapping, knuckles are pooping, and eyes are glazed, I love this feeling.]

"This event will break you. It has made some of the best talent quit wrestling all together."

[Hanson blows a bubble with his gum, pops, and continues to chew it. Their eyes look into mine, I see their confidence, and I see that they are ready.]

"Those who haven't left by now, Summer Games made. I've been in four and that's the most that anyone inside the WfWA has ever been in, I know my way around this event like it was my own creation."

[I see Easton smile, funny I don't ever think I've seen him do that. Nerves, they get to everyone.]

White: Dan....

[He tips his flask to Easton and he accepts.]

Hanson: Now, that is team work.

[We all smile at the joke.]

Sloan: Seriousness, after the first round some of us will be gone. A few might advance and then again only one of us could. Then there is the worst case scenario…

Hanson: Yeah, the one where we all just blow it.

[An intellectual. I like that.]

Sloan: Well, yeah, we could... But, it's only WR.

[We all share a good laugh.]

Sloan: Aight, no bullshitting we are going to advance even if I have to carry each and every one of you through the match. Easton, I need you on point.

[His head snaps up giving me a look like who the hell are you. Then he agrees.]

Sloan: You are the only other one in this room that has any experience working in this situation. I need you to help me get this team through the first round. Hobo, I need you to go out on a limb and not be drunk come time for us to enter the ring.

[He burps at me, maybe I should have had this talk earlier in the night.]

Sloan: Hanson, you are up first. Hopefully, they'll pair you up with Devins or Chambers. I've seen Devins in the past, he's par with you. Chambers you might have a little problem with, but I think you can eliminate both of them.

[I stop talking and take in a deep breath.]

Easton: And what will you do? Not to sound like an ass, but are you going to wait till the end to show up?

[This starts my blood boiling.]

Sloan: I've never left my team. I have never shied away from being in the Games. I'll start the damn match if I have to, but it seems like a more feasible plan if Hanson starts the match. If they start Valante or Burke first then he'll wear them down and leave it up to one of us if he fails. But, it will take their strongest men and tire them first. If we wait until the end to get in the match we can make sure we advance no matter if there are two or three of them left. You get it.

[I didn't want to have to start it like that, I only wanted to lay down a game plan.]

White/Hanson: I'll start!

[Good, both of them are with me. Although, I think Hobo is at least three sheets to the wind.]

Sloan: Go Team... I mean it... this time.

[They all stand up and walk out the door pass me. I just shut my eyes.]

The screen suddenly fizzles, as if being pirated. After a few moments of snow, we see the face of David Paige, standing in his locker room. He apparently has the camera set up on a makeshift Tripod, as he is first seen adjusting the picture. When its steady, he steps backwards, makes sure he in frame, and sits down on a bench. Behind him, one can see the Irish flag, and in his lap is the Emerald Isle Title. He pauses for a moment, looks behind him at the cloth, and then turns again to face the camera. He coughs.

Paige: “Hello Team WR, I do not know if you are all watching this right now, in your separate locker rooms, but I have taken over this air-time right now so that I might speak with each of you before your Summer Games match tonight. Let’s be honest WR, no one expects very much from us. I was thrown into a title fight between Sam Horrey and Thomas Bane as an afterthought. You were thrown together because you were more or less all that the WR has left to show for itself in terms of worthwhile talent. WR is weak right now, that’s what everyone seems to think. So how about we show them all to be wrong?

“None of you are Irish, and I suppose because of that its hard for many of you to understand the matter of pride here. I do not think any of you really have a reason to care about Ireland, or at least, not like I do. But there is something you should care about. Ireland chose you, and while you may not care about the end reputation of our country, you can bet that this reflects on your reputation. If we come out of this thing looking weak, you look weak. Like it or not, who you are now is going to be tied into our little island, and its up to you to defend her honor.

“Burke and Hurley, you should know what I mean here. The tag team champions needed a good warm-up, something to show themselves off before the Summer Games. So who are they booked against? You two. The Saint and Sinner Tag Title Champions. The longest running joint champions in the WR, and a hell of a tag team. And you know what? You put way more into that match than they did, put all your heart into it. But the narrative is stronger than any man, or any two men. You were fed to them, and you know what? I think you deserve a lot better. So this is your chance. Your chance to take out WCWA, make it to the finals, and get back that honor. Show them what it means to be Tag Champions.

“Devins, I do not know what you are care about, other than what I have lying on my lap right now. We had something big with our Team WR, we could have had the TEAM tournament, but, let’s face it, it was you who broke it apart. And for what? I will tell you. It was for gold, plain and simple. But, you never could take that belt from me. You couldn’t even outsmart me. You hit me with a chair against Mandrake? Fine. I came right back and leveled you. You wanted the last laugh, but you sure as hell didn’t get it. So, I say its time for you to earn some redemption. You can be keep walking this path of anger and nihilism, the same one Egerton walked down, before he vanished. Or, you can stand up and fight like an Assassin again. You want my title? Earn the shot. Win the games. Show them all.

“We are the underdogs tonight. We are the ones who are going to have to prove ourselves. I am tired of carrying the banner of Ireland, and being the WR Golden Boy. This is our fed. Let’s fight for it. Let’s win for it. Let’s make it so that no one, ever, will consider the WR to be the underdogs ever again.”

Paige gets up, and walks towards the camera. He lifts it up to his face.

“Go Team WR.”

The camera cuts out.

[We move to the back, where we find Dan Easton preparing for the WCWA versus WR first round match. For the special occasion that is Summer Games, Dan has broken out a red, white and blue singlet which he wears currently with the straps down. He sits on a metal folding chair trying to tie up his matching boots around the global tracking system locator on his ankle.]

Dan: “Why the hell couldn’t I wear this thing on my wrist like a watch or something?”

[Dan asks the question to himself as there is no one else currently in the room with him. Well aside from the camera man that no one ever sees, and rarely ever hears.]

[With slight frustration at not being able to get the boot comfortable, he tosses it to the floor.]

Dan: “This just isn’t going to work.”

[The door to the locker room swings open as Chance Wolfington enters.]

Chance: “Okay, I managed to pull some strings and Jamie Valliant is going to be in shortly to remove the GTS unit for now. She is going to remain on site to assure your whereabouts through out the night, and then once you are done for the evening; the unit will go back on. This way it won’t hinder your footwear or movement.”

Dan: “Chance man, I sure the hell am glad that Moscow introduced us those many years ago. SG would have ended up meaning screwed good for me this year if you hadn’t worked your magic man.”

Chance: “Just go out there and give it your best man, be the better man tonight, and show the world what you got, that all the thanks I need.”

Dan: “I give it one hundred and twenty percent every time out there, you know that.”

Chance: “Just make it happen Dan, make it happen. I have to go take care of some other matters. With Ryan Corey wrestling tonight, I need to pick up some of the slack of the WWA execs so he can focus on his match. Stay focused, stay strong.”

Dan: “Thanks again Chance.”

Chance: “No problem Dan.”

[As Chance opens the door to leave, Jamie Valliant enters.]

Chance: “Looks like you are just in time, I was just leaving, and I believe Dan was trying to get his boots on.”

Jamie: “I got over here as quickly as I could.”

Dan: “No worry beautiful, I would wait all night for you.”

Jamie: “Does he ever stop?”

[The attractive red head questions as Chance tries to exit the room.]

Dan: “What can I say, I have a thing for red heads. They bring out my playful side.”

Jamie: “Lucky me.”

[Jamie sets her case down on a near by chair, and stares at Dan with a smile.]

[A slight knocking distracted the World Heavyweight Champion while he was in his locker room. Thomas Bane got up and opened the door, meeting a sinister grin with maniacal blue eyes.]

“Hello, Thomas,” Victor Mandrake said.

[Bane visibly tensed, never knowing what to expect when encountering the infamous Immortal One.]

“Relax,” Victor said. “I haven’t come to try anything that would result in either of us becoming injured. I’m actually here on business negotiations.”

[Bane raised an eyebrow.]

“Business negotiations?” Thomas asked skeptically.

“Yes, I know,” Victor said while pushing past Bane and entering the room, “why should you trust anything I say when my deals and negotiations are as manipulative as the ones the Devil deals when stealing your soul?”

“You know,” Bane said, “I don’t think I could’ve put it any better.”

[Mandrake grins.]

“One aims to please.”

“Ok,” Bane said. “I’ll humor you. What’s your ‘business negotiation’?”

“Well, first things first,” Victor said. “I need to let you in on a little bit of insider information. Being the new owner and all, I have access to such things.”

“You haven’t even fought yet,” Bane said. “Ryan Corey could just as easily keep the alliance.”

[Victor raises an eyebrow.]

“Thomas, my boy, let’s be reasonable. It’s a foregone conclusion. Can we not argue semantics and just get on with it?”

“Sure,” Bane said, unbelieving of the amount of arrogance oozing from every one of Mandrake’s pores.

“Excellent. Now, before I begin, you’re aware of my little project in Italy, yes?”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces,” Thomas said. “Something about a replica of the Colosseum.”

“Indeed,” Victor confirmed. “But it’s not just something for tourists and whatnot. It’s going to be a full-fledged wrestling federation.”

[Thomas scoffed.]

“Sorry Victor, but I’m already signed to OCW,” Thomas said.

“And thus, the inside information finds itself a proper segue,” Mandrake said.

[Thomas paused, raising an eyebrow.]

“After Summer Games, OCW will no longer be a part of the alliance,” Victor revealed.

[Thomas shook his head.]

“You must really think I’m stupid to fall for a lie like that.”

“Believe what you want,” Victor said. “The truth will reveal itself in time, and when it does, come and talk to me. I’ve always liked you, Thomas. I think you’d be an incredibly valuable asset to my federation, one of the top gladiators in that arena, hands down. I don’t want an answer now, because I know it will be no. Just think about it. Once the announcement is made, I’ll expect a call.”

[Bane went to retort, but Victor brushed by him and left him to his thoughts as he exited.]

[The scene opens up in a room in the backstage area with a large group of familiar faces to WWA fans. There is a bit of loud chattering going on as the door opens. Adrien Cochrane and Dean Hobkirk walk in and stand behind the table with Dean’s bodyguard, Daniel Jacobs, following them shortly behind him. Adrien pulls out an air horn and presses it. The extremely loud sound of it goes off and echoes throughout the room. Adrien stands behind his table and smiles.]

Adrien: Welcome everyone to the 1st Annual Live Wire Drinking Contest! You eight individuals have volunteered to participate in this contest during the Team WCWA and Team WR match-up. Allow me to explain the rules: Each one of you will be assigned a wrestler in the match. For every strike or wrestling maneuver that your competitor receives, you will be required to chug one of our specially developed beer that has a higher alcohol concentration than any other drink you can find in some bar.

[Dean pulls out a very large case filled with six packs of beer from under the table. The three continue to smile as Adrien continues going over the rules.]

Adrien: Do not worry. We will not run out of the beer. Now, if your competitor is eliminated, you will have to chug an ENTIRE six pack of the beer. Now, who you have been assigned was chosen at random. Even we do not know who you have until you open them. Now, we will hand you an envelope with your competitor’s name. For those of you who do not know, the wresters in this match are on Team WCWA: Mike Sloan, Dan Easton, Edward “The Hobo” White, and Noah Hanson. Team WR consists of: Adam Burke, Jake Devins, Cole Chambers, and Massimo Cirillo Valante.

[Dean continues Adrien’s rules.]

Adrien: To win the contest, you must be the most sober person at the end of the match. If you pass out, you are pretty much done. Adrien, Daniel, and I are going to judge you by testing much like a cop does when you get pulled over…

Adrien: …and probably taking your drunk asses home after the show…

[Dean shoots Adrien a dirty look. He continues.]

Adrien: The winner of the contest will win this trophy stuffed with five thousand dollars donated out of Adrien’s own pockets.

[Adrien pulls out the golden cup-shaped trophy, with dollar bills coming from the top. The eight contestants look at the trophy and smile.]

Adrien: Now, we are going to call your name, and we will hand you your envelope. Rizzo…

[The former WCWA Gold Rush champion smiles as he stands in the corner of the room. He mumbles “jackasses” as he passes through and walks over to Dean. Dean hands him a white envelope with “Rizzo” written in blue letters. Rizzo opens up the envelope on his way back to his seat. He looks at his paper.]

Rizzo: Oh, that loser.

[Rizzo smiles as he sits down. Daniel hands Adrien the next envelope.]

Adrien: Chris Butler…

[One half of Team ELITE stands up reaches over to Adrien, who was sitting pretty close to the front of the crowd. He looks at his paper and smiles.]

Adrien: Daniel Corey…

[As soon as Chris Butler, his tag team partner, Daniel Corey grabs his envelope and sits right back by his partner. After looking at his paper, he tries unsuccessfully to trade with Chris Butler. Adrien smiles at the attempt as he looks at the next envelope.]

Adrien: Devon Zander…

[The former AWA wrestler who now works for WCWA, Devon Zander stands up from the right side of the room. He takes his envelope, looks at it, and sits back down in the chair quietly.]

Adrien: Toussaint Jordan…

[Lemual Jordan’s younger brother stands up and walks over to the table.]

Adrien: I just worked with your brother earlier tonight. Great guy, I’m sure you’re just as cool.

[Jordan smiles as he takes his envelope out of Dean’s hand and returns to his seat with a bigger smile when he sees his assigned competitor. Adrien looks over at the next envelope and has a somewhat shocked look on his face.]

Adrien: Eric Ramirez?

[The president of OCW steps forward. Adrien, who still seems shocked, hands Ramirez his assigned wrestler. Adrien grabs the last two envelopes and walks over to Kelly Doyley and Francis “Catalyst” Hamilton and hands them the last two envelopes. He and Dean start tossing the beers to the eight contestants. The eight hold it up and open it at the same time.]

Adrien: Let the drinking begin!!

[Team WR filed out separately while Team WCWA, showing their unity, came out together. Sloan took point, establishing himself as the leader of the group. Noah Hanson started for Team WCWA, and Adam Burke came in for WR. A fall was nearly counted early on Hanson after Burke surprised him with the Tiger Claw, but Sloan managed to slide in and make the save. As a result, Hanson was able to tag out to Dan Easton, who began working on Burke.]

[Easton tossed around Burke with a series of suplexes and worked him over with various submission maneuvers. Burke was unable to make a tag out and hence, fell victim to Easton’s Low Down, furiously tapping out while Team WCWA made sure no one from WR came in and broke it up.]

[Adam Burke was eliminated at 6:09.]

[The next legal man for WR, Evan Hurley, came out and dueled with the submission expert. Easton tagged out to White after nearly falling victim to the Hurleyocalypse, and the Hobo made his way into the ring. After several minutes of combat, and what could only be described as the single worst olfactory experience of Hurley’s lifetime, Hurley fell victim to the Hobo via GOTCHA #2.]

[Evan Hurley was eliminated at 10:54.]

[Seeing another teammate fall, and realizing the four to two disadvantage, Jake Devins took charge and hopped into the ring ready to kill someone. White, realizing this, scrambled frantically to tag in Hanson, who expresses surprise about getting the tag, and perhaps dread as well. Nevertheless, Hanson entered, and Devins stalked him slowly. Hanson made the first move towards Devins, and that was pretty much the end of that. Devins made short work of the less-experienced wrestler, putting him away with a Death Valley bomb.]

[Noah Hanson was eliminated at 13:10.]

[Easton entered the ring again. Devins looked him up and down, arrogantly scoffing at him before tagging in Massimo Cirillo Valante. Valante didn’t really look at Easton as one would look at someone who’s a threat. Rather, he looked at him more as a piece of meat, which was disturbing in its own right. Nevertheless, Easton took it to Valante, breaking him down with multiple submission moves, and eventually making him tap out to a double chicken-wing submission.]

[Massimo Cirillo Valante was eliminated at 16:17.]

[Jake Devins shook his head in disgust. He couldn’t believe that Keiler had paired him up with, in his mind, a merry band of fuck-ups. He entered the ring as Easton tagged in the Hobo. Edward White cautiously entered. Devins wasted no time with him. After he got over the smell, that is. Once that happened, it wasn’t long before Devins nearly popped off the Hobo’s head with the Assassination. Devins rushed and knocked off both Easton and Sloan from the mat before quickly sliding back to the Hobo and making the pinfall.]

[Edward “The Hobo” White was eliminated at 18:41.]

[Furious, Sloan slid back into the ring and began battling it out with Devins. The two were pretty evenly matched, and Sloan himself almost fell victim to the Assassination. However, as luck would have it, Sloan was able to slip out of the maneuver and wrap up Jake Devins in a school boy.]

[“The Assassin” Jake Devins was eliminated at 21:07.]

[Team WCWA wins: Mike Sloan and Dan Easton advance.]

[The scene cuts back to the Live Wire drinking contest. Adrien is standing behind his desk, looking petrified as OCW President Eric Ramirez is hanging on him.]

Ramirez: Heh, you know, I love you guys…

BELCH!!!!

Ramirez: You guys should think about coming over to OCW…

[Adrien stands there looking petrified. Dean Hobkirk walks over and helps Eric Ramirez back to his seat. Adrien continues his final business of the competition.]

Adrien: Ok, Catalyst, you had Jake Devins. You have to finish that six pack over there.

[Catalyst, who is down to a muscle shirt/wifebeater in attire, looks at the beer. He begins weeping.]

Catalyst: My father never hugged me…

[Adrien holds his head in disbelief.]

Adrien: Wow, he’s got about a much a shot at this as I do in the finals.

Adrien: Ok, seeing as Zander and Butler are unconscious…

[The camera turns to the two. Devon Zander has his head on Butler’s left leg.]

Adrien: …they are disqualified. As for you other six, we are going to do a serious of tests to try to figure out who is the most sober out of you. Dean, get the breathalyzer.

[Dean walks over to Catalyst with the breathalyzer. Dean sticks it in front of his face.]

Dean: Breathe…

Catalyst: I think I want to get my lawyer, officer.

Dean: Just breathe!

[Dean stomps on Catalyst’s toe, causing him to yelp in pain and to exhale into the breathalyzer. Dean gives it a curious look.]

Dean: It probably isn’t this guy…

[Adrien walks over to Daniel Corey.]

Adrien: Daniel, I want you to say your alphabet backwards.

Daniel: Nah, I think I’ll pass.

[Adrien gives Daniel Corey a stern look.]

Adrien: Okay…Daniel Corey is elimin…

Daniel Corey: Okay! OKAY!!

[Adrien smiles and looks back at the other member of Team ELITE.]

Daniel: Z…Y…X…purple…monkey…cantaloupe…

Adrien: NEXT!!

[Toussaint Jordan rushes up to Adrien, seeming to be very hyper. Adrien looks nearly freaked out by the enthusiasm of the younger Jordan.]

Adrien: Ok, Toussaint…stand up.

Toussaint: …elephant!!

[Toussaint Jordan falls to the ground laughing. Adrien looks back at Dean, who shakes his head and walks over to Eric Ramirez.]

Ramirez: Is it time to go home yet?

Dean: Umm…no. As a matter of fact, it’s almost time to play who can walk in a straight line. Ramirez: REALLY!!

[The OCW President’s face lights up with glee.]

Ramirez: Who am I racing?

Dean: Kelly Doyley.

[Doyley looks over at Dean in surprise.]

Doyley: Please…no…I DON’T WANNA!!

Ramirez: Come on. You can do it. On your marks, get set, GO!!

[Both take off out of their seats and probably make it about two feet before they both hit the ground.]

Adrien: God, is there ANYONE sober enough to win this damn thing?

[Rizzo sits in the back of the room with a smile on his face.]

Adrien: You…Rizzo…

[Rizzo looks up at Adrien.]

Rizzo: Listen, jackass, I don’t have time for any of your little tests, okay?

[Adrien shakes his head in disbelief.]

Adrien: What’s my name?

Rizzo: What the fu…

Adrien: Just tell me my damn name!!

Rizzo: Adrien Cochrane…damn…

Adrien: Congratulations. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the first annual Live Wire Drinking Contest is RIZZO!!

[Dean hands Rizzo the trophy stuffed with five thousand dollars cash. Rizzo takes the trophy with a smirk and walks out the room. The remaining seven drunks are being dragged out one by one by Daniel Jacobs and a few WWA staff members. As soon as the room empties, Dean pats his tag team partner on the back.]

Dean: Adrien, the next time you get an idea like this, remind me to tell you NO!!

Adrien: Why not? I mean, come on, when else are we EVER gonna get to see something as crazy as this from these people ever again?

Dean: True, you got a point there.

Adrien: Just think about what we can do when the next WWA pay-per-view comes along. Which is it?

Dean: International Wars?

Adrien: Nah. Is it the Summit?

Dean: I don’t think it is.

[The two stand there looking puzzled.]

Adrien: Oh well, we’ll figure out later.

[Scene fades out.]

[The camera slowly focuses on a man that is no stranger to Summer Games. The man that has come with one thing in mind and that is to walk out of California as Champion. He stands backstage in his wrestling gear and a vintage “Dark Angels” t-shirt with the OCW Texas Heritage Championship around his waist and the Stampede Division Championship on his shoulder and a mic in his hand.]

“Some of you might not know who I am but the millions around the world know who the hell I am. The name is Lennox and I am a man on a mission. A mission of retribution.”

[A slow breath passes from his lips before he continues.]

“I am here to represent OCW. Too many people around here that name might be a pariah but to the people on this team, it is home. In a few moments, Team OCW is going to hit the ring and we are going to go toe to toe with Team OLW. Now, let’s be clear, we are here for one thing and one thing and that’s to win at all cost. OLW just drew the wrong team to face in the first round.”

[Lennox slowly takes off his title belt and presses it towards the camera.]

“This title represents not giving up. This title represents fighting until you can’t fight anymore. So, before you get to the betting booths and put your money on OLW or HRW winning the whole thing, just remember something. Summer Games VIII is our Alamo. We will wrestle, we will fight, we will bleed and we will pay the ultimate price to come out on top.”

“Do you understand what that means? It means that Team OCW might be outgunned or out manned but we could give a rat’s ass because this is the place that we fight and OLW loses.”

[Lennox lowers his title as a determined look comes across his face.]

“Hey OLW, Remember The Alamo, muthafuckers because tonight it’s going to be you that falls to the side on our way to victory and my first Summer Games Title.”

[Almost on cue, stepping into the spotlight, next to Michael Lennox is the head case of Outlaw Championship Wrestling. Also in his wrestling gear, Sean Jackson looks at his teammate with a mixture of hatred and contempt. To anyone looking on, they are solidly convinced that Jackson is about to take a cheap shot on Lennox, but since this is a team oriented event, he does nothing.]

Jackson: "For those of you who are either too stupid to know who I am, or have just crawled out from under a rock, my name is Sean Jackson."

[Sean keeps his eyes towards Lennox, trying to hide the contempt that he has for his "forced" team partner.]

Jackson: "I'm a member of Team OCW, and the next World Heavyweight Champion."

[It would be easy to take Lennox out now, but Sean realizes that he needs his partners to remain healthy and to increase his own chances of going all the way.]

Jackson: "Which is not good for those OLW guys who think that they're going to the next round."

[His eyes turn from Lennox and now are focused solely on the camera.]

Jackson: "You see OLW, I'm used to getting my way. When I first arrived at Outlaw Championship Wrestling last year, I wanted the Texas Heritage Title."

[His eyes cut to the title belt now worn by Lennox. He is only mere inches away, no one could fault him from taking a cheap shot now. His face turns almost beat red, but he keeps himself in check, for the moment.]

Jackson: (a slight grumble to his voice.) "Done that already."

[He could feel the rage building. One swing, one swing would be all that it would take. But then again, he had to play this one smartly.]

Jackson: "I wanted to prove to the wrestling world that Thomas Bane was a joke as a champion, and I did that. Well what I did for Texas, I plan on doing for the rest of the world."

[inhale / exhale.]

Jackson: "Now, I know what you're saying Team OLW. You're saying to yourselves, what does that have to do with us?"

[The Mental Rapist smiles.]

Jackson: "Well, the answer is nothing...absolutely nothing. For later on tonight, Team OLW will be nothing more than an after thought, a footnote in the history of Summer Games VIII as I..."

[He quickly catches the slip and corrects himself.]

Jackson: "As Team OCW advances to not only the next round, but to the finals to decide which of us faces Thomas Bane for the World Heavyweight Title..."

[For the last time, he cuts his eyes towards Lennox.]

Jackson: "And we ALL know who that's going to be, don't we?"

[I swear this is all about timing.]

Storm: "It won't be you, Sean."

[Ryan Storm steps into focus and looks up at the slightly taller frame of the former OCW Texas Heritage Champion. Dressed for the match in his black biker tights, kneepads and boots with purple trim, he glances around Jackson to Lennox.]

Storm: "I respect the both of you as athletes. As men, that'd be a ten-four on Lennox, but you..."

[Storm pokes his index finger into the chest of the ex champ.]

Storm: "I don't like you. But tonight, once the Old Line trash is tossed to the curb, I'll prove to you, to Lennox over there and anyone else remaining that it's my time to shine."

[Storm turns and looks forward.]

Storm: "I dare anyone to stop me."

[Enough Said!]

[The bell rings and Justice and Daemon Curtis start off. Curtis stuns the luchador with a knee lift, sends him off the ropes with an Irish whip, Justice hits a headscissor takedown on the rebound. Justice sends Curtis for the ride, Curtis reverses, tries a flapjack, Justice counters in mid air with a dropkick! Curtis staggers back to the ropes, Justice charges at him, Curtis back drops him, Justice hangs onto the top rope and as Curtis turns around, shoulder blocks him through the ropes. He hits a springboard cross body that’s caught by Curtis, who converts it to a powerslam. Curtis stomps away at Justice, then pulls him up by the mask and throws him into the OLW corner before tagging out to Python.]

[Curtis lifts Justice onto his shoulders, Python flips backwards, double stomps Justice’s back, lands on the mat and drops to one knee, and Curtis drops Justice across Python’s knee with a gutbuster. Python pulls Justice up, hits a series of forearms, applies an arm wrench, runs up the turnbuckle to arm drag him, and Justice rolls with the move, stumbles into his own corner, and tags out to CJ Rowell. Rowell storms into the ring and gets immediately caught with an arm drag. He rolls to his feet into another arm drag, but hangs onto Python’s arm and whips him over. Rolling to his feet, Rowell throws the smaller man across the ring with a belly to belly suplex. He follows with a running elbow drop. Placing Python on his shoulders, he hits a rolling firemans carry slam, and tags out to Sean Jackson. Python is placed perfectly for a flying elbow from Jackson, but Python kicks out of the following cover in a short two.]

[Jackson clubs Python over the neck a few times then hooks him for a vertical suplex. He lifts… Python escapes out the back! Python runs Jackson to the ropes, Jackson holds on, Python rolls backwards, Jackson charges after him and Python takes him down with a jumping headscissor! Python tags out to Heidi, who heads to the top rope and comes off with a flying spinning heel kick that topples Jackson. Jackson only makes it to one knee before Heidi starts in with the buzzsaw roundhouse kicks that first knock him to the mat and then knock him out of the ring under the bottom ropes. Michael Lennox enters the ring as Jackson hits the floor with a big clothesline. He runs off the ropes – as he hits, Jeff Andrews grabs him by the hair and slams him to the mat. Lennox leaps back to his feet and takes a swing at Andrews, who ducks. Off balanced, Lennox is set up well for a German suplex from Heidi. Andrews demands the tag but instead Heidi tags out to Curtis.]

[Curtis struts into the ring and jabs Lennox in the face, but Lennox is full of fire tonight and he attacks Curtis, driving him backwards with punches. A headbutt knocks Curtis to his knees, Lennox forces his neck down over the ropes, runs off the far side and jumps on his back. Curtis stumbles halfway across the ring but Lennox pounces, grabbing a headlock and hammerlock and taking him up and over backwards onto his stomach. Curtis reaches towards his own corner, Lennox tries to drag him back by his ankle, but Curtis’ size comes into play. He rolls forward and slings Lennox into the OLW corner. Andrews and Python each grab an arm holding him in place, and Heidi roundhouse kicks Lennox in the face, knocking him to his back. Curtis grabs Lennox around the waist and hits a stiff backdrop before tagging out to Andrews.]

[Andrews walks into the ring, stomps Lennox on the face really hard, and tags out to Heidi. Heidi twists one of Lennox’s arms into a hammerlock around her own ankle, then hammerlocks the other arm, and finally bridges backwards applying a modified Cattle Mutilation. Both teams charge into the ring with Andrews intercepting Rowell and Python intercepting Jackson, but Justice delivers a sliding dropkick through Curtis’ legs and knocks Heidi off the hold. Curtis turns and fist drops Justice, throws him out of the ring and follows. Jackson throws Python to the side and grabs Heidi by her hair, running her across the ring and slamming her into the mat to throw her under the bottom rope and out of the ring. Python sees Rowell coming and quickly frankensteiners him over the ropes and out of the ring, following with a corkscrew Asai moonsault! And this leaves Andrews to pull Lennox up and clothesline him out of the ring.]

[The ref doesn’t bother with a countout as this match is too high stakes. Andrews and Lennox are exchanging punches and chops, both their faces contorted with hate, but Lennox is holding his own against the slightly heavier Andrews. Jackson still has two handfuls of Heidi’s hair, and he slams her face into the announce table. He tries Irish whipping her at the stairs, but Heidi leaps lightly on top of it, and from there missile dropkicks Rowell in the back! Python and Heidi then turn to double team Jackson, Heidi kicking him in the midsection and then Python hitting a jumping twisting kick to the head. Curtis has picked Justice up on his shoulders and tried to ram him into the turnbuckle, but Justice slips off, Curtis hits the ring post, and Justice superkicks him in the back of the head! Grabbing Curtis by the belt, Justice slings him back into the ring.]

[On the outside, Rowell takes a page out of the book Heidi used earlier, jumping off the stairs to double clothesline both Heidi and Python. He and Jackson double suplex Heidi on the mats, and then put Python on the ring apron. Lennox has taken control of Andrews and knocked him to the guardrail, but when he charges, Andrews back drops him into the stands. Andrews then takes a running start and dives over the guardrail to tackle Lennox. In the ring, Justice climbs a turnbuckle and missile dropkicks Curtis. He climbs another one and goes for another missile dropkick, but Curtis sidesteps. As Justice stands up, Curtis gets him in a cradle, then takes him up and over with the GhettoPlex, and makes the cover.]

Justice eliminated by Daemon Curtis at 9:43

[As security restrains Andrews and Lennox and directs them back towards the ring, Curtis beckons someone else into the ring. The invitation is accepted by Rowell, who ties up with Curtis. Curtis uses his power to force Rowell back into the turnbuckle, but at the last second Rowell ducks underneath Curtis, trips him into the corner and then lays in with the chops to the chest, finishing it off with a spinning back elbow. Snapmare, rolling neck whip, leg drop to the neck, Rowell pulls Curtis up and whips him off the ropes – Heidi blind tags! Curtis ducks Rowell’s attempted clothesline, and Heidi’s springboard huracarrana connects! One… two… Rowell manages to sunset flip her out of the pin! One… two… Heidi to her feet and hits rolling neckbreaker on the seated Rowell! Heidi grabs Rowell in the full nelson and begins pulling him to his feet, setting up the Dragon Suplex – both teams dive into the ring! Andrews and Jackson go for each other, Python and Lennox, Curtis is trying to recover from Rowell’s offense. Rowell is fighting, he’s at the upper end of Heidi’s lifting limit. She gets him up – part way. The two wrestlers go over backwards, Rowell in fact landing on his head, but with his shoulders landing on Heidi. She does not bridge fully… ONE… TWO… THREE! The wrestlers stop fighting briefly as the ref and announcer consult… and it is announced a double elimination, as Heidi’s shoulders were down.]

CJ Rowell eliminated by Heidi at 12:28
Heidi eliminated by CJ Rowell at 12:28

[With Team OCW now down 2-3, but Jeff Andrews desired clean sweep not having come to pass, Andrews dives into the ring and attacks Sean Jackson, not because he particularly dislikes Jackson but because he was closer. Chops from Andrews have Jackson falling backwards and clutching his chest as it turns red. But he’s a veteran of the game and he manages to hit Andrews with a Stun Gun, and follows it with a belly to back suplex. He sets up the Game Called Due to Darkness, Andrews is trying too hard to block for him to get him up, and he settles for a headscissor stomp, and then a running knee lift. Jackson grabs a side headlock, hooks the arm, and drives the punches into Andrews face. Pulling him up he tries an Irish whip, Andrews goes nowhere, throws him back off the ropes, Jackson slings over Andrews back and knocks Andrews legs out from under him with a nasty kick to the backs of the legs. He then makes the tag to Lennox.]

[Lennox then says he will not fight Andrews while someone else has done the beating down, and he throws Andrews into the Team OLW corner. Curtis tags himself in. He tries a big boot but Lennox catches the boot and hits him with a german suplex… hanging on for a second… going for a third, and then bridging on that one. One… two… Curtis has been resting for a bit and so he’s able to kick out. Lennox sets up the Cajun Crossface – Curtis knows the counter and rolls through – right into the Bayou Stunner! Out of nowhere, Curtis bounces to his feet but is wobbling around out on them, Lennox quickly small packages! Jackson keeps Python from interfering and Andrews is too weak too… one… two… THREE!]

Daemon Curtis eliminated by Michael Lennox at 14:56

[Python now takes it into the ring. He springboards straight over Lennox, runs off the far ropes, is caught in sidewalk slam position but keeps going up over Lennox’s back and down with a reverse head slam. He heads to the top and tries a cross body, but Lennox catches him in mid air and plants him with a rib breaker. Lennox quickly slips Python into the Cajun Crossface… Python’s wavering… Andrews hits Jackson with a quick belly to belly suplex and then breaks the hold while lying on his back and bicycle kicking Lennox. Lennox angrily throws Andrews out of the ring, turns around… and gets hit with a Lethal Roundhouse from Python! Python and Heidi get on alright, and apparently he can use the move now… with Lennox wavering, Python hooks him, runs up the corner… and hits the Snakebite! One… two… THREE!]

Michael Lennox eliminated by Python at 16:31

[Jeff Andrews is a spiteful fucker and he grabs Lennox by the head and throws him out of the ring, taunting him. Lennox, recovered, makes a rush at the ring, causing the referee to try to keep the two from fighting… and while this is happening, Jackson drops off the apron and grabs a steel chair! He tosses the chair onto the mat just in front of Python, runs off the ropes and catches him with a bulldog, dropping him on the chair! Busy with Lennox and Andrews, the ref doesn’t notice. Jackson kicks the chair out of ringside, Lennox slowly lets the refs take him away. Andrews keeps gloating as Jackson up and back down with the Unsportsmanlike Conduct! One… Two… THREE!]

Python eliminated by Sean Jackson at 17:26
Sean Jackson is the new Double Crown Champion

[When the bell rings, Andrews spins around and freaks out. If you thought he was angry before… Jackson is tackled to the mat and punched until the ref threatens to DQ Andrews. Andrews throws Jackson into the turnbuckle and lariats him, climbs the ropes and hits him with a flying shoulder tackle. Andrews pulls Jackson to his feet, sets up the pumphandle, spins, and drops him with a cradle Tombstone Piledriver! The Andrews Driver IV puts Jackson flat out, but Andrews hooks the far leg and grapevines the near one just to be safe. One… Two… THREE!!!]

Sean Jackson eliminated by Jeff Andrews at 18:07.
Jeff Andrews is the new Double Crown Champion.
Jeff Andrews is the sole survivor of Team OLW vs Team OCW.
Jeff Andrews will proceed to the final.

[The mirror does not tell lies.]

“This event has shaped me life.”

[Shown to me is a figure that has seen the fight and loved the war. It delivers to me a man full of compassion and fight that will forever fight on in the WWA. I see myself as a worthy adversary to any person wanting what I deserve, I deserve Summer Games.]

“I have learned humility at the hands of this event. I have learned how to live with out the victory that I have wanted since the first mention of the Games.”

[My blue eyes are seemingly bluer today, but it could be the red lines that spider along the white. No sleep in the last forty-eight hours will to it to ya. My hair tingles on my scalp, anticipation of the dance is all it is.]

“I have held the Alliance’s top gold, not once, twice and haven’t felt like I earned it.”

[My stomach is empty, no food in the last twenty--four hours, so I won’t throw it up. Fells like the big game in high school. Relax, Michael, it will be over soon.]

“This is the missing link in my story, to be called Summer Games Champion and it will all be worth it.”

[The crowd is pumped, I can hear them through the walls. They are ready for it the WWA to crown the new champion. They are ready to see the fight for the Title.]

“Bane. Horrey. Paige. They are only an after thought during this event. Summer Games is bigger than the World Title. It’s the only title that can only be won once a year and its winner deserves it, period. There are no mistakes when it comes to the winner.”

[Anticipation. A copper taste in my mouth. I lean over and splash a little water on my face from the sink.]

“Rookie.”

[I laugh because I know I’m about to vomit nothing into the sink.]

“I’m ready for the finals.”

[“Nightbringer” Ryan Corey, owner of the WWA, made his way to his office in the backstage to grab a few things before perhaps the biggest match of his career against Victor Mandrake to keep the company he so loved. He was determined to keep the corporation he spent so many years building out of the hands of his worst enemy.]

[He was just about to enter his office when he saw a note attached to the wooden door by a huge, rather nasty looking custom-made knife. Looking at the knife alone, Corey already knew it was from Mandrake. When he wasn’t trying to kill people, Corey knew Victor’s favorite pastime was making various blades and weapons. Unamused, Corey took down the note and began to read it.]

Old Friend –

I sincerely hope that you receive this before our match. I’d say these things personally, but I wouldn’t dream of getting our final battle started prematurely. After all, that’d just rob the fans of their chance to see your entrails splattered across the mat.

I digress. I write this letter to you now, on the eve of our Armageddon, pondering why we’re here, and what led us to this point. It’s more then the IWF Heavyweight Title that you beat me for almost eight years ago. It’s more then when you led Eric Dane to my home where he shot Morrigan. It’s almost as if everything that’s happened to each of us in each of our lives, before we even met and every day thereafter has culminated to this point, this summit of violence and death.

It’s Fate.

It has to be. There’s no other word for it. For reasons we don’t yet know, we were predestined by God himself to fight to the bitter pain of agony and death. To peel the skin from our flesh and rend the flesh from our bones, spilling gallon after gallon of blood.

For what?

That’s something I cannot answer.

What I can answer is the question of what’s going to happen tonight. You are going to lose, Corey. There’s nothing you can do about it. I apologize for my arrogance, but it’s true. You are going to lose this company, and then you’re going to lose your soul. The hatred that has filled your heart and darkened your soul has already guaranteed this.

I’ve turned you into me.

But more so then that, I know this to be truth:

I will be trying to kill you tonight. After everything is said and done, I will leave you to die in the middle of the ring.

God is not with you tonight, Nightbringer.

No one is but me.

V.M.

Jackson: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most talked about match of the night!

Sanchez: You mean besides the Games and the World Title matches?

Jackson: Well, yeah...but that doesn't mean that this match won't be monumental!

Sanchez: It certainly will. In fact, I'm willing to bet that the outcome of this match will have more of a lasting effect on the alliance then the Summer Games Final or the World Title matches.

Jackson: You're probably right there, Sylvia.

Davenport: Introducing first, standing at 7'4" and weighing 375 pounds, he is the former three time WWA World Heavyweight Champion, VICTOR MANDRAKE!!

[Boos erupt from the arena as "Mr. Self-Destruct" by Nine Inch Nails pounds from the PA system. The man known as The Immortal One emerges from the back wearing his black tights and black combat boots. He's shirtless, revealing the gothic and macabre images that decorate his chiseled upper torso. His long black hair is stringy and wet, and his icy blue eyes are filled with the darkest intents of a madman. He proceeds down the ramp and steps into the ring, awaiting his nemesis.]

Davenport: And his opponent, standing 6 feet tall, weighing in at 235 pounds. He is a former two-time WWA World Heavyweight Champion, and the first man to ever complete the WWA's Triple Crown. Originally from Whiting, Iowa, and now hailing from Moberly, Missouri. He is the Measuring Stick. He is....."NIGHTBRINGER"....RYAN...COREY!!!

[The lights cut out in the arena as the hyperkinetic violins of Red's "Breathe Into Me" begin to filter through the PA. They quicken, coming to a sudden crescendoed stop.]

"Night Falls Soon, Victor Mandrake....the Nightbringer is coming for your soul."

[At the sound of NRC's voice, the fans erupt in applause. The guitars crunch to begin the song, and red, white, and blue pyro explodes at the top of the ramp, lighting the Nightbringer's face. He stands at the edge of the ramp, wearing his long, red tights and long white trenchcoat, his long red hair back in the trademark ponytail.]

Jackson: And here comes the boss!

Sanchez: You mean soon-to-be-ex-boss.

[Corey makes his way to ringside, hopping up onto the apron and then removing the trench. He goes to the nearest corner, mounting the turnbuckle and holding his hands up high, drawing the loudest crowd pop heard in many years in this alliance. He turns, looking directly at Mandrake before stepping over the top rope and dropping into the ring.]

DING DING DING!

[The two men just stand there at first, soaking in the cheers for what is no doubt about to be an epic battle. The Nightbringer's eyes are focused on the giant at the opposite corner of the ring, a little darkened with hatred. Mandrake just smirks at Ryan, knowing all too well the thoughts pumping through his mind, thoughts that no upright moral Christian man would ever dream of having.]

[No matter the outcome tonight, in a certain way, Victor considered himself the winner.]

Sanchez: Why the hell are they just standing there? Come on Victor, tear him apart!

[Corey stood in his own corner, watching the smirk etch itself across Victor's face, stretching his arms, bouncing back and forth on his feet. He noted the look in Victor's eyes, and made a mental note to pray after the match for forgiveness....there was now no turning back. Good against evil, with the alliance hanging in the balance.]

Jackson: This has been a long time coming, Sylvia. There's so much tension here that I'm going to need a drink.

Sanchez: Again?

Jackson: Always.

[Victor stomps a foot on the ring while slightly lunging towards NRC, and he visibly tenses. Mandrake's grin grows wider.]

Jackson: Oh, now he's just toying with him.

Sanchez: I know, isn't it great?

[Mandrake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rolling his neck and letting the pops and cracks in his bones get drowned out by the ensuing chaos of the crowd. Victor opens his eyes and nods at Corey. He returns the gesture. A nanosecond later, the two men charge each other.]

Jackson: AND WE'RE OFF!!

[Victor and Ryan collide and turn into what can only be described as a whirlwind of fists, each man unloading all the pent up rage and hatred out on one another. With such a deep personal battle between the two of them culminating into a single moment of frenzied, bloodthirsty madness, one would hardly expect it to be any different. Mandrake gets the edge with a massive uppercut that sends Corey into the ropes and bouncing back into a near decapitating clothesline.]

Sanchez: Mandrake getting the early edge with a vicious clothesline!

Jackson: I think I suffered from whiplash just watching that.

[Mandrake grabs Corey by his long, red hair and drags him to the center of the ring, where he repeatedly stomps on his chest while still clutching the fistful of hair. The ref yells in protest, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. Victor releases Corey's hair after a few more stomps, and picks him up. Mandrake raises the owner of the WWA over his head for a guerrilla press slam, holds him for a second, presses the body once, twice, then for a third time before launching him outside of the ring and onto the concrete.]

Jackson: Jesus Christ! Mandrake is manhandling the Nightbringer right now!

Sanchez: He wants Ryan Corey dead, Mario. He doesn't just want his company, he wants his life too.

[Corey rolls onto his back, catching his breath. Victor walks to the ropes, leering down at Corey, taunting him. Ryan quickly rolls to a stand, and Mandrake backs off, allowing Ryan to step up onto the apron, and then between the ropes and into the ring.]

Jackson: Obviously, the direct approach isn't going to work for Ryan here tonight.

Sanchez: Gee, you think? Mandrake outweighs him by a hundred and fifty pounds, and has sixteen inches on him. He dwarfs the owner.

[The two circle each other again, their hatred-filled eyes never looking at anything but the other. They charge, but Corey ducks the collar-and-elbow, getting behind Mandrake. Victor turns, but Corey catches him with a standing dropkick directly on the point of the nose, staggering the big man back. Corey reaches up and chops Victor in the chest with an open-handed overhand chop, the smack echoing through the arena. Corey chops him repeatedly, viciously, backing Victor against the ropes. Once more, Corey leaps into the air, nailing Mandrake with a dropkick, sending him careening over the ropes. Not resting, Corey quickly hits the opposite ropes, charges, and flies over the top rope, hitting Mandrake as he stands with a cross-body block, again knocking him to the floor. Corey scampers back into the ring, looking down at a very angry Victor Mandrake.]

Jackson: Heh. I guess Mandrake’s not used to being knocked around.

[As Corey stands there, Victor, with much more speed then anyone would ever give him credit for, partially slides into the ring and grabs Ryan’s ankles, dragging him to the outside. Ryan tries to spring back up to defend himself, but is promptly stopped when the bottom of Mandrake’s boot meets the Nightbringer’s face.]

Sanchez: Dayum!! Did you see that shot?

Jackson: That was a vicious boot! NRC’s nose is bleeding now!

[Corey is holding his nose as the viscous crimson fluid begins to pour from between his fingers. Victor walks towards him as Ryan still tends to his wound. Mandrake grabs another handful of red hair and rams his head into the stairs multiple times until Corey stops moving.]

Jackson: Jesus Christ…

Sanchez: I know! Isn’t this great?

Jackson: I don’t know if I’d say that. Victor’s literally trying to kill him!

Sanchez: Well, that is what he said he was going to do.

Jackson: Yeah, but, there’s promo trash talk, and then there’s this.

Sanchez: Oh stop being so squeamish. Drink another shot. You’ll feel better.

[Mandrake picked up a limp NRC and rolled him into the ring. He lifted him again and applied a standing head scissors. He lifted him up for a powerbomb.]

*BOOM!*

Jackson: Holy shit!!

Sanchez: NO!!!

Jackson: NRC was playing possum!! He just reversed that powerbomb into a reverse DDT and sent the big man backwards on his head!

[Mandrake is lying on the mat, clutching his head. The Nightbringer is doing the same, given the amount of head trauma he’s endured so far in this match, but he’s still able to get up first and baseball slide into Mandrake’s cranium, further exacerbating the impact of that reverse DDT. The Nightbringer stomps on Mandrake a couple of times to roll him on his stomach, then applies a crossface, squeezing down extra hard on his head.]

Jackson: Corey’s got him in a crossface. That can’t feel good considering what Victor’s just endured.

Sanchez: Please. Ya’ll know what kinda pain endurance he has? He won’t tap.

[Mandrake reaches for the ropes, but Corey yanks back harder. Mandrake lunges once more and gets a hand on the ropes. The ref breaks up the hold.]

Sanchez: One thing Corey’s gotta realize is with Mandrake standing at 7’4”, there isn’t a place in the ring he wouldn’t be able to reach the ropes unless he was in the dead center of the ring.

[Mandrake gets to his feet to start shaking out the cobwebs while looking for Corey, who has seemingly disappeared.]

Jackson: Hey Vic! Look behind you!

[Sure enough, Corey was perched on the turnbuckle behind Victor. He turns to face him.]

*SMACK!*

Jackson: Missile dropkick right to the face!!

[Now it’s Victor’s turn to bleed. He holds his face as his nose starts pouring blood.]

Jackson: An eye for an eye!

Sanchez: Or nose.

Jackson: It’s a figure of speech.

Sanchez: Well you could at least be anatomically correct.

[Ryan prepares for his next attack as he perches on top of another corner. Mandrake gets up again as Corey flies through the air.]

Sanchez: He got caught!!

[Indeed, Mandrake caught the Nightbringer in mid air as he leapt for another cross body block. In one fluid motion, The Immortal One tosses him up and catches him on top of his shoulders. Then, almost as if it was in slow motion, Victor hopped into the air and began to fall to his side.]

Sanchez: THE KILLING FIELDS!!! DID YOU SEE THAT INCREDIBLE SHOW OF STRENGTH?!?

[The ref gets to the ground as Mandrake makes the cover.]

1…

Jackson: Oh come on!!! Get up Ryan!!

2…

Sanchez: It’s over!!! A new owner’s coming up!!

3!!

[The fans erupt in a cacophony of cheers as NRC puts a leg on the ropes.]

Jackson: ON THE ROPES!!! ON THE ROPES!!! HE’S GOT A FOOT ON THE ROPES!!!

[The ref points to Ryan’s leg as Mandrake looks in disbelief. Pissed off even more now, Victor picks up Ryan and begins just beating on him. He punches him in the gut twice, elbows him in the head twice, and then head butts him in face. Nightbringer crumbles to a heap. Victor angrily paces around the ring looking around.]

Jackson: What’s he looking for?

[Mandrake steps over the top rope and goes to the outside, picking up a chair and getting back inside. The ref protests, but Victor slams an enormous fist into the side of his head, silencing him quickly.]

Jackson: He can’t do that!

Sanchez: Um, he just did.

[Victor raises the chair over his head.]

*CLUNK!*

[The chair drops as Ryan’s forearm solidly connects with Mandrake’s groin. The ensuing crowd pop is near-deafening.]

Jackson: YES!!

Sanchez: Speaking of things you can’t do…

Jackson: Hey! That was perfectly legitimate! Mandrake was about to cave his skull in!

Sanchez: Yeah, and now, we won’t get the chance to see that. Thanks a lot, “boss”.

Jackson: Oh quit being a sore loser.

[Victor falls to his knees, the wind effectively knocked out of him. NRC picks up the chair, looking down at the disabled Immortal One. The crowd starts chanting.]

“DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!!”

Jackson: The crowd wants to see Ryan clock the shit out of Diablo!

[Corey wearily grins, the blood caked around his smile. He rears back as Mandrake’s icy blue eyes glare up at him, almost daring him to do it.]

[Never say that Ryan Corey wasn’t a man to take a dare.]

*BAM!!!*

[The crowd screams in approval as the steel connects with Mandrake’s skull, busting him wide open. Blood streams out of his forehead as he falls to the mat.]

Jackson: YYYEEEAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

Sanchez: NNNOOO!!!!

[Ryan tosses the chair out of the ring as Mandrake looks up at the lights in a daze. He groggily gets to all fours and slowly gets up.]

[Unfortunately, Corey’s already waiting.]

Jackson: KATA HAJIME!!! KATA HAJIME!!! NRC’S GOT IT LOCKED IN!!!

[The Nightbringer wraps up Victor in his favorite submission moves and begins to choke the life out of him. Victor struggles, but in his weakened state, can’t do much to stop. Mandrake doesn’t tap. He refuses to. It isn’t long before Victor goes limp. Corey looks around to find the ref, and sees him sprawled on the mat. Ryan curses under his breath and lets go of Mandrake to try to wake up the ref. Corey gets him on his feet and coherent so he can make the KO on Mandrake. He walks over to the still unconscious Victor as the ref grabs his arm.]

*WHAM!!*

Sanchez: Ouch!!! Looks like NRC was standing a little too close to Victor! Haha! Sweet revenge!

[A leg suddenly shot up and nailed Corey in the groin as the ref grabbed Victor’s hand. Corey doubled over as Mandrake slowly made his way to his feet, trying to regain the oxygen lost. This gives Corey enough time to recuperate on his own. He turned around and saw Mandrake, insane blue eyes against a crimson mask and caked black hair. He grinned as he slightly cocked his head to the side.]

Jackson: Look at him! He’s nothing short of absolutely insane.

Sanchez: I think it’s hot.

Jackson: You would.

[Corey charged Mandrake, who grabbed him by the throat with both hands and tossed him into the corner. NRC’s back looked like it almost shattered when bouncing off of the turnbuckles. Corey grabbed his back in pain as he fell to his knees. Mandrake simply grabbed him by the head and slammed his knee into his left eye. Corey’s head snapped back as he crumpled into the corner.]

Sanchez: Dayum, he’s just brutal! I love it!!

[Victor picked Corey back up to his feet. He kneed him in the gut, then applied a standing head scissors, lifting him up to try for another powerbomb.]

*BOOOM!*

Sanchez: He got it that time!!

[The ring shuddered as Corey’s body bounced off of it hard. Corey slightly stirred, his eyes wide with pain, trying to catch his breath. Mandrake stepped up onto the first rope.]

Jackson: What the hell does he think he’s doing??

Sanchez: Big men can fly too!

Jackson: The hell they can!

[Victor stepped to the second rope, then the third, his massive tree trunks for legs wobbling considerately, unable to properly balance.]

*THUNK!*

[Crowd pop.]

Jackson: HA! Corey got up and managed to shake the ropes enough to make Mandrake lose his balance and crunch his nuts on the turnbuckle!

[NRC wasted no time getting up on the same turnbuckle as Victor. He looked at the prone body of Mandrake, then down to the concrete below.]

Sanchez: What the hell’s he thinking?

Jackson: I’m not sure…

[Corey drops down to the second rope, on the outside of the ring. He grabs Victor in a Kata Hajime.]

Sanchez: He’s not…

Jackson: Holy shit I think he is!!

[Corey pulls back with all of his strength as Mandrake comes off of the top rope. The two men fall to the outside in perfect form, the surreal-ness of the moment almost slowing down time itself.]

[What follows can only be described as the single most decibel-crushing roar of cheers the world has ever experienced.]

Jackson: NIGHTFALL!!!! NIGHTFALL!!! NIGHTFALL OFF OF THE TOP ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE!!!

Sanchez: WOW!! Even I have to admit that was off the chain!

[Both men are out cold, but that doesn’t stop the wave after wave of endless cheering. The ref has no choice but to start counting them out. By mark 7, Corey began to stir. By mark nine, Corey was up enough on his feet for the ref to stop the count. Corey grabbed a handful of black hair and lifted Victor up enough to roll him into the ring. He followed in and slowly crawled to Mandrake’s fallen form to cover him.]

1…

Jackson: There’s no possible way he’s getting up!!

2…

Sanchez: GET UP!!!

3!!

Sanchez: VICTOR GETS AN ARM UP AT THE LAST SECOND!! Oh thank God!!

[The fans didn’t share Sylvia’s relief. In fact, you could almost hear the hopes of all the fans shatter like glass when Victor managed to get his arm up. Corey was too exhausted to be frustrated about it. He laid on his back, slowly got up, and brought Victor to his feet. In a desperation move, Mandrake lunged forward and tackled Corey to the mat with a spear. Victor picked Corey back up and Irish whipped him into the ref, knocking him down again.]

Jackson: Seriously, if they’re going to keep on knocking out the ref, what’s the point of even having him in there?

[Victor took the briefly distracted opportunity to bury a couple of fists into NRC’s lower back before grabbing his head and driving it into the turnbuckle. A quick elbow backwards into Mandrake’s head halts the assault. Mandrake staggers back into the middle of the ring while Corey regains his composure. The two men stared at each other. Wearied and worn. Battered and bruised. The blood was shed. The bones were broken. The foundation was set.]

[Now was the time to usher in the new empire.]

[Victor’s eyes moved to the shadow behind Ryan.]

[A gladiator smiles.]

[A tyrant falls.]

Sanchez: WOODS!!! IT’S TERRY MUTHAFUCKIN’ WOODS!!!

Jackson: NNNOOOO!!!! GODDAMMIT!!!

[Ryan Corey’s world went black as the baseball bat connected with his head. The jeers were loud and constant, equal in force and emotion as when the two men launched from the top rope.]

[Mandrake grabbed the limp form of the Nightbringer, and wrapped a massive hand around his neck.]

Sanchez: ONE WAY TO HELL!!

[Corey’s body hit the mat with a sickening thud as Woods woke up the ref.]

[Mandrake fell to his knees, and then covered Corey.]

1…

Jackson: Please God let him get up!!!

2…

Sanchez: THIS IS IT!!!

3!!

DING DING DING!!!

Sanchez: YESSS!!!!!

[The garbage came overflowing from the crowd like a giant tsunami.]

Davenport: Your winner, and NEW owner of the World Wrestling Alliance…..VICTOR MANDRAKE!!!!

Jackson: I can’t believe this is happening…

Sanchez: Believe it! This is the start of something beautiful!!

[Mandrake grabs a microphone.]

Mandrake: Let it be known, that from this day forward, Terry Woods is officially reinstated to the WWA.

[The boos got even louder.]

Mandrake: And as my second order of business, I’d like to thank the Nightbringer for relinquishing my company to where it belongs. Allow me then, dear fans, to truly express my gratitude in the best way I know how. Terry, if you would, please.

Jackson: I don’t like the sound of that…

Sanchez: Oh, I do!

[Woods pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. A rope fashioned with a noose came spilling out from down the rafters, stopping just above Victor’s head.]

Jackson: What the hell are they going to do with that?!?

[Woods then pulled out a box and tossed it to Victor. Mandrake placed the box underneath the rope, picked up Corey, stood him up on the box, and placed the noose around the now former-owners neck. Corey hazily looked around, confused as to what was going on.]

Mandrake: Until next time, old friend.

[With that, Mandrake kicked the box out from under him. The noose tightened, and NRC’s eyes went wide. He began to flail and gasp for air, but to no avail.]

Jackson: My God!! Someone get security down here to cut him down quick!

Sanchez: I wonder how long it would take until he actually passed out?

Jackson: Are you seriously asking that question right now?!?

Sanchez: What? Just curious…

[Mandrake grinned as he left Corey there to die in front of everyone. He and Woods proceeded up the ramp as security and EMTs rushed passed them. They cut him down and immediately began to tend to him.]

Jackson: Folks, we’re going to have to go backstage for a bit while they help out Mr. Corey. If this is a preview of what Victor’s reign as owner is going to be like, then…

Sanchez: [cutting him off] …I can’t wait!!

[Staples Center, Los Angeles, California]

[Standing in front of the WCWA banner is the former WWA World Tag Team Champions the Reign of Pain, Larry Mauer and Kevin Hughes.]

[Mauer is the shorter, older man clad in jeans, cowboy boots, and a black RoP t shirt. Hughes the much larger and younger of the two sports jeans, black Nikes, and a matching RoP t shirt. Hughes wears his dirty blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. While Mauer has his salt and pepper hair covered in a Carolina Panthers ball cap.”

Mauer: “You know Kev, I’m starting to think that people aren’t taking us seriously around here. I mean the WCWA is hosting this event and we had to bribe security just to get in here.”

[Hughes smiles and flexes a bit.]

Hughes: “I don’t think picking him up and putting him in the dumpster would be considered a bribe Larry.”

Mauer: “Sure it was Kev. I mean I could’ve just let you take care of it. I mean I bribed him by letting him choose the least painful way. I mean we were getting in one way or another.”

[Hughes smiles]

Mauer: “Now if Daniels and Beam had gotten us are passes this wouldn’t have been necessary.”

Hughes: “Yeah I think we need to go thank them for that. Anyone seen them around?”

[silence]

Hughes: “Figures, they’re hiding from us just like in the old days. It’s ok guys, we’ll see ya soon.”

Mauer: “Have you seen the Lions FC is going around promising every a shot at the gold except us? What is up with that?

Hughes: “I think we need to pay them a visit and state our case in person.”

[Mauer smiles]

Mauer: “I think you’re right Kev. Let’s just hammer this nail before we go though. Those two young punks may think they are the greatest thing to happen to tag team wrestling ever, but we’ve been to the top of the mountain boys. What have you got? A regional tag championship to brag about? That you’re huge in Japan? Hell son every man is huge in Japan, doesn’t make you the next best thing. We’ve been doing this a long time and when you step into the ring with us we’ll show you what OLD SCHOOL is all about.”

Hughes: “Well Larry don’t try to make these people think I’m as old as you.”

[Hughes smiles as Mauer glares at him.]

Hughes: “However we’ve been held down for far too long. It’s time for us to climb back to the top of the mountain and throw off the sons of bitches that happen to be there when it’s all said and done with. Come on Larry let’s go find us some chumps.”

[Mauer and Hughes storm off.]

[The door to the locker room swings open, and in walks the World Wrestling Alliance World Champion, Thomas Bane. He's dressed in a blue aloha shirt, blue jeans, and brown slippers. His facial expression suggests distraction.]

[Making his way to his locker, his mind deep in thought about his upcoming match, he fails to notice that he's not alone.]

"Hello, Thomas."

[He turns around to face the speaker, and watches a familiar figure emerge from the shadows.]

[Ryan Blasier, dressed in a pair of black dress slacks, a white dress shirt, and black dress shoes, walks over to Bane. In his hand he holds Bane's most prized possession.]

[The World Heavyweight title belt.]

[Thomas eyes the belt, and then eyes Ryan suspiciously.]

Bane: "Ryan Blasier. What are you doing here?"

[Ryan smiles, holding the belt out for Thomas to grab. He does so, snatching it away quickly, as though he suspects a trap. This causes Ryan to chuckle in amusement.]

Blasier: "Calm down, Thomas. I'm not here to cause you any harm."

[Thomas' expression shows he's not convinced.]

Bane: "Then what do you want?"

[Ryan shrugs, then begins to pace around him.]

Blasier: "I simply wanted to congratulate you on winning the World title."

[Thomas eyes him suspiciously, seeming slightly unnerved by the other man pacing about.]

Bane: "I know you better than that, Ryan. You want something else."

[Ryan stops his pacing, laughing. He holds his hand to his heart in a mock gesture of insult, then shrugs.]

Blasier: "Am I really that transparent? Don't answer that. Anyway, you're right. There was something else I wanted."

[Thomas snorts, his eyes narrow.]

Bane: "I figured as much."

[Ryan holds up his hand, as both their eyes dart to the World title now firmly in Thomas' grasp.]

Blasier: "Oh, don't worry, Thomas. I'm not here to demand a title shot."

[Thomas says nothing, but his expression suggests he's bored with the games, and wants Ryan to just spit it out.]

Blasier: "I wanted to thank you, personally."

[It's obvious that wasn't the response Thomas was expecting. He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.]

Bane: "Thank me? For what?"

[Ryan smiles widely. On anyone else, it would appear warm. On him, it looks more like a feral grin of a predator just before he tears his fangs into his prey.]

Blasier: "For making my title reign look all the more magnificent! I mean, I had the greatest title run as World Champion that the World Wrestling Alliance has ever witnessed. But when you compare it to your current excuse for a reign, you just see how much more impressive it truly was."

[Thomas, knowing the game Ryan is playing at, clenches his fists at his side, but refuses to take the bait. Instead, after a couple of moments to control his simmering anger, he actually manages a grin.]

Bane: "Now it's my turn to thank you, Ryan."

[Ryan arches his brow.]

Blasier: "Oh?"

Bane: "You see, I was nervous about my match tonight. I knew that tonight, against Paige and Horrey, I'd get my first opportunity to showcase myself as champ. So it would be an understatement to say I was a little anxious."

[The grin widens.]

Bane: "But then you come in here and alleviate all that tension. It amuses me to no end when you start having your delusions of grandeur. When I hear the words you speak, the arrogance in them, I suddenly remember why I'm proud of my title reign."

[Ryan's eyes narrow, but Thomas continues on, undaunted.]

Bane: "My title reign scares you. It scares you because you see a man who tries to maintain a sense of honor and integrity while wearing the greatest prize in our industry. You make light of it, because you know in your heart that should I defeat Sam Horrey and David Paige tonight, I'll have done something you could never hope to achieve."

[Thomas pauses, actually enjoying the fact it is Ryan whose face is contorted in barely contained rage.]

Bane: "People will actually respect my title reign."

[Thomas crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for the inevitable explosion from the unpredictable ex-World champion. But it never comes. Instead, what happens causes Thomas to take an involuntary step back, eying his counterpart warily.]

[Ryan tilts his head to the side, as if studying Thomas from an angle. What really unnerves Thomas is the eyes in which Ryan scrutinizes him take on a faraway gaze, and any sort of life within them disappears.]

[It's as if Thomas Bane is staring into Death itself.]

Blasier: "Perhaps that will be the case. Nevertheless, I'll leave you with one last thought to ponder."

[Ryan takes a step closer to Thomas, with Thomas not backing down an inch.]

Blasier: "When I set my sights on someone, I not only defeat them, I retire them. Is your career worth throwing away for your pride?"

[He shoots Thomas an evil grin.]

Blasier: "You better be certain of your answer, Thomas."

[And with that, he turns and exits the locker room, leaving Thomas with one more thing to think about before his World title defense.]

Jackson: Well Sylvia, it's time for the first of two World Wrestling Alliance title matches. This one pits the team of Evan Jansen and Ryan Blasier, against the defending tag team champions, TJ Ratigan and Deacon Dale.

Sanchez: Technically we've already had a WWA title match, with Python's Double Crown on the line earlier in the evening. Anyway, this match is one I've been marking on my calendar for months. On one side, we've got the brash, cocky, and hated duo of Jansen and Blasier, who have been making life miserable for numerous tag teams in the World Wrestling Alliance for months, against a duo who is arguably just as hated, if not more so, who have quickly risen to fame and prosperity as *the* team to beat in the Alliance.

Jackson: And they're no strangers to one another, either. It was actually Jansen and Blasier's interference that helped lead to The Conspiracy's World title win over the Texas Outlaws, back at International Wars.

Sanchez: Right. So I'm guessing Ratigan and Dale have two reasons to lick their chops at the prospect of finally getting in the ring with Superiority Complex. One, to prove they're the best tag team in the WWA, bar none. And two, to pay Jansen and Blasier back for tainting their original title win.

Jackson: Indeed. If the match even comes close to living up to its potential, we could be witnessing the match of the evening. Let's go to ringside.

Isaac Davenport: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is for the World Wrestling Alliance World Tag Team Championship!

[The crowd POPS at the mention of the tag titles.]

Isaac Davenport: Introducing first, representing Outlaw Championship Wrestling, at a total combined weight of 455 lbs.....

["My Hero" by the Foo Fighters hits the arena speakers. Emerging from the back are two men, one dressed in a pair of black full-length wrestling pants, the other dressed in a pair of dark blue wrestling shorts.]

Isaac Davenport: Ryan Blasier and Evan Jansen, Superiority Complex!

[A mixture of booing and cheering rains down on the duo. Some fans can't stand their vile antics, yet other fans just can't help but cheer for the bad guys. Which will get confusing later on, since The Conspiracy are also 'bad guys'.]

Jackson: Blasier and Jansen look ready for this one. Both men look incredibly focused. I think the fans will be in for a treat tonight.

Sanchez: They've been chasing after the World tag titles for months now. First they were on the heels of The Texas Outlaws, then switched gears and focused on The Conspiracy, when Ratigan and Dale defeated the duo from down south. So the hunger is definitely there.

[Blasier and Jansen make their way to the ring, casual, confident steps leading the way. Both men seem to be loose, grinning those annoying cocky grins of theirs. They ignore the fans along the aisle, not even turning to glance at them. Their eyes are focused on the ring, and to the business at hand.]

Jackson: Their appearance on OLW's show also caused some bad blood to develop between themselves and the tag champs. I'm sure Ratigan and Dale weren't too impressed by them showing up.

Sanchez: I'm looking forward to this encounter. As soon as Superiority Complex made an appearance on Outrage, I knew this confrontation had the potential for something special.

[Taking their time, as if soaking up the experience of Summer Games, and basking in the spotlight, the duo walk around ringside with a methodical pace. This time, they do glance at ringside, to the faces staring back at them in the crowd. Their smirks grow even wider at the screams and taunts from the paying public.]

[They climb up the steel ring steps, and climb through the ropes. Jansen mounts the closest turnbuckle, while Blasier makes his way to the opposite turnbuckle, scaling it. Both men hold their arms in the air, out wide, and soak in whatever cheers or jeers are aimed their way, before dismounting and taking a place in their corner of the ring.]

Isaac Davenport: And now, the champions! Representing Old Line Wrestling...at a combined weight of four hundred and seventy-eight pounds...the WWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS..."The Judge" Deacon Dale! "Rotten" T.J. Ratigan! THE CONSPIRACY!

[That's your cue, sound man. Guano Apes, "Open Your Eyes."]

#Hide your face forever#
#Dream and search forever#

"BOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[And here comes the greatest bastards of all.]

Jackson: The fans are letting The Conspiracy know what they think of them. The booing is deafening.

Sanchez: Who would have thought it possible? Jansen and Blasier might actually be *heroes* tonight!

[Emerging through the curtains are two men who have become familiar to WWA fans, and not because they like them: "The Judge" Deacon Dale and "Rotten" T.J. Ratigan. They walk slowly down the ramp, enjoying the moment. Ratigan is in his wrestling gear (although it's tough to tell, since it looks like what he normally wears.) Deacon Dale follows slightly behind, and yes, he's still wearing that ridiculous robe.]

[But if you think that reaction was bad, you haven't heard anything yet.]

"BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[Because just behind the champions, the curtain parts again. The man who emerges has been conspicuous by his absence in most of the Conspiracy's run atop the WWA, but tonight he is making his presence known. He hobbles out, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches. His leg is encased in a cast, but the rest of him is wearing in a sharp suit. One wonders what happened to the trouser leg that should be the cast is, but nobody's giving any answers.]

["Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors.]

Jackson: So Wyatt Connors is in attendance tonight, eh? This doesn't look good for Jansen and Blasier.

Sanchez: He's still sporting an injury though. But he's a wily veteran. I'm sure he'll make his presence known, injury or not.

[They gather by one of the unmanned corners, and discuss some last-minute strategy. Also, Deacon Dale takes the opportunity to remove that ridiculous getup, revealing his wrestling gear underneath. At last, the Conspiracy step up to their corner and climb to the apron, with Connors remaining down on the floor.]

Jackson: Both teams are just eyeing one another right now. Jansen and Dale, Blasier and Ratigan. If you'll excuse the expression for a moment, you can just *feel* the dislike between these four men.

Sanchez: Five, if Connors decides to climb into the ring. Although, he seems to be sitting back and letting Dale and Ratigan eyeball the challengers, content to stand aside with a cocky smirk on his face.

[The referee motions for two of the men, one from each team, to vacate the ring. Jansen and Ratigan do so for their respective teams, leaving Blasier and Dale to start the match.]

*DING!*

*DING!*

Jackson: And we're under way, with Blasier and Dale staring each other down. Both men are circling, feeling the other out.

Sanchez: I'm sure Dale's psyching himself up by remembering Blasier's part in the controversial match at International Wars. And that cocky grin on Blasier's face is likely him thinking that The Conspiracy wouldn't even be champions right now if it weren't for him and Jansen.

[Blasier and Dale tie up in the center of the ring. Dale earns the first advantage with a solid overhand right to Blasier's jaw. Dale grabs Blasier's arm, and sends him to the corner turnbuckle with an Irish whip.]

[Blasier hits the turnbuckle, but uses the momentum to bounce back at an unsuspecting Dale. As Dale charges in, he's met with a back elbow that staggers him. Blasier sends him completely to the mat, as he charges and nails Dale with a running clothesline.]

Jackson: Nice reversal by Blasier.

Sanchez: He caught Dale napping with that one.

[Blasier stands in a crouch, as Dale gets back up to his feet. He shakes his head, and rubs a hand along his jaw where Blasier's elbow connected, all the while glaring at his opponent.]

[The two converge in the center of the ring again, this time Blasier gaining the advantage. Showing his technical expertise, Blasier is able to go from a side headlock, to behind Dale, and execute a belly to back suplex, which sends Dale crashing hard on the back of the neck onto the mat.]

Jackson: Nice move by the former World champion.

Sanchez: You sometimes forget just how quick and agile Blasier is. And his technical skills are second to none, when he decides to show it. Unfortunately for us fans, that doesn't happen too often.

[Blasier is quick to press his advantage. With Dale on the mat, clutching the back of his neck, Blasier charges in and wraps his arms around him, putting Dale in a crossface hold.]

[The referee checks on Dale, but the co-tag team champion refuses to give up. In response to Dale's stubbornness, Blasier increases pressure to the hold, causing Dale to let out a scream of agony, as Blasier pulls back on his neck.]

Jackson: Dale's in a difficult position, in the center of the ring.

Sanchez: TJ Ratigan is screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to encourage his partner. But as you said, he's in no man's land.

[With great difficulty, Dale begins to crawl awkwardly on his belly toward his corner, to where Ratigan has his arm outstretched. Blasier applies even more pressure to the hold, halting Dale's progress. But he's relentless, and against his body's protest, is inching closer and closer to his partner.]

[Blasier realizes he's not going to submit, and releases the hold. Before Dale can do anything about it, Blasier gets to his feet and stomps away on the back of Dale's head and neck, halting his movement completely. Reaching down, he grabs Dale and lifts him to his feet, dragging him by the scruff of the neck toward the safety of Superiority Complex's corner.]

Jackson: Blasier, with some quick thinking, keeps the momentum squarely on Superiority Complex's side.

Sanchez: And just in the nick of time, too. Ratigan was about an arm's length away from tagging in.

[Blasier tags in Jansen, and the pair immediately go to work on double teaming Dale. Blasier places Dale in a full Nelson, while Jansen lays the boots to Dale's exposed ribs and mid section.]

[After a couple of seconds of this, and a few scolds from the referee, the duo use every fraction of a second at their disposal, and whip Dale to the ropes. He bounces off the ropes, and goes up and over, as Blasier and Jansen execute a double back body drop.]

[Finally, the referee ushers Blasier to his corner, as Jansen stalks after Dale.]

Jackson: Superiority Complex is showing off some of their teamwork, much to the chagrin of Deacon Dale.

Sanchez: If Dale doesn't make the tag soon, we could be seeing new World tag team champions.

[Jansen lifts Dale to his feet, and staggers him with a right hand. He then hoists Dale up, and executes an inverted atomic drop on him, sending Dale to the mat clutching his groin.]

[Jansen stands over Dale, taunting him. He then begins laying into the prone man with stomps to the head, chest and mid section, before getting on his knees beside Dale. He grabs a hold of Dale's head, lifts it up off the mat, and begins to land a series of punches to the forehead, before the referee forces him to break it up.]

Jackson: Jansen is really unloading on Dale this evening. I think Dale's cut.

Sanchez: This is a vicious side to Jansen's personality that people don't often see, behind his often humorous antics. I don't think Dale's going to find anything funny about Jansen after this match.

[Ratigan watches on, murder in his eyes, screaming for his partner to make the tag. Likewise, Blasier watches on with an amused smirk on his face, watching his partner go to work on their opponent.]

[Jansen lifts Dale up off the mat, and whips him to the ropes. On the rebound, Jansen leaps into the air, and uses Dale's momentum against him to execute a Hurricanrana. Jansen quickly retrieves him, and drags him over to their corner to tag in Blasier.]

[Blasier, however, waves him away.]

Jackson: That's strange. Blasier just rejected the tag.

Sanchez: I think he's indicating for Jansen to continue working on him. Jansen seems as confused as we are.

[Indeed, Blasier motions for Jansen to continue to pound away on Dale, indicating that he still needs to rest up a bit longer. Jansen, momentarily puzzled, nods and begins to lay into Dale with forearm smashes to the back and shoulder.]

[Jansen follows up his barrage with a knee lift, sending Dale to the canvas. He grabs onto Dale's leg, and places him in a figure four leg lock.]

Jackson: It seems Jansen and Blasier had a specific game plan for The Conspiracy.

Sanchez: Yep. They're methodically wearing down one member, one doing damage to his back and neck, the other working away on his legs. It's a smart move, too, given Dale's size advantage. Now things are on a more even playing field.

[The big man howls in pain, but his muscles tighten as he attempts to reverse the hold, and flip over. Jansen, sensing Dale's motives, applies more pressure to the hold in an attempt to stop the man from reversing the hold.]

[Ratigan continues to scream encouragement toward his partner, while Blasier seems distracted by a fan at ringside, and is engaged in a discussion with said fan.]

Jackson: Jansen's really got the figure four locked in. He's also got Dale trapped on Superiority Complex's side of the ring.

Sanchez: What's with Blasier? He's jawing away at that fan, and not even paying attention to the match.

[Sensing his partner's dire circumstances, Ratigan climbs through the ropes, and charges. Before the referee can intervene, Ratigan drops an ax handle smash onto Jansen, causing him to release his hold on Dale.]

[The referee, realizing the importance of the match, decides to scold Ratigan as he escorts him to his corner, rather than disqualify him.]

[Blasier turns back and sees that Jansen is no longer in full control. But oddly enough, he smiles, shaking his head. He even glances over at Ratigan and begins a slow, methodical clap. Ratigan glances back, utterly perplexed by Blasier's antics.]

Jackson: TJ Ratigan might have just saved The Conspiracy the tag team titles. But at the risk of a possible disqualification.

Sanchez: I don't think he'd care if they got disqualified. After all, they'd retain the belts. And I think that's all that matters to them.

[Jansen climbs to his feet, and walks over to Dale. He lines him up, and drops an elbow onto the back of Dale's head, then gets back up to his feet, and taking a few steps back, measures him up for a punt kick to the head.]

Jackson: If Jansen nails this, Dale is out.

Sanchez: If Jansen nails this, Ratigan's going to have to find himself a new partner.

[Just as Jansen's about to begin his running start, Blasier yells something to him. Jansen stops, hesitating for a moment to glance over at his partner. He frowns at Blasier, who is now stretching his arm out, indicating he wants to be tagged in.]

Jackson: It seems Blasier's finally ready to be tagged in.

Sanchez: These two don't seem to be on the same page right now. I think Blasier's antics are confusing even Jansen.

[At first Jansen seems as though he wants to refuse the request, but Blasier's yelling becomes insistent. So Jansen walks his way over to Dale to pick him up and drag him to his corner, then make the tag to Blasier. Unfortunately for Jansen, Dale has other ideas.]

[The momentary respite given to him by Blasier's ill-timed demands, Dale is able to recover enough to launch himself at Jansen, nailing the smaller man in the mid section with his shoulder. He nails Jansen with a second shoulder block to the gut, this one lifting Jansen up off the mat. And with a desperation lunge, Dale executes a short clothesline on the suddenly stunned Jansen, sending both men to the canvas.]

Jackson: Both men are down and out right now.

Sanchez: Both men need to make the tag. The momentum will swing to whichever team can bring in the fresh man first.

[Dale and Jansen begin to stir, with Jansen a bit more fresh. As Dale crawls to his corner, Jansen is up to one knee, then a second, and then to his feet, ready to make the three foot leap to his corner.]

[Ratigan stretches his arm out as far as he can, and yells at his partner to hurry, seeing just how close Jansen is to make the tag.]

[Connors barks at Dale.]

[For his part, Blasier stands on the ring apron, with both elbows leaning casually on the top rope, watching his partner draw closer with no open attempt to help him by reaching forward.]

[At about the same instance, Dale makes one final lunge, and connects with his partner's outstretched hand, just as Jansen makes a similar leap.]

[Unfortunately for Jansen, Blasier turns around and begins arguing with the same fan in the front row as before. Jansen's hand meets nothing but thin air.]

Jackson: What the hell is Blasier doing? Jansen would have made the tag in time if Blasier wasn't so preoccupied with that fan.

Sanchez: That fan must have said something to really get under his skin. Blasier's usually much more focused than to be distracted like this.

[Ratigan comes flying into the ring like a house on fire. He charges at Jansen, who is now up to his feet, but immobilized almost in shock at his partner's display, and nails Jansen from behind with a flying ax handle smash.]

[Jansen crashes into Blasier, sending Blasier off the ring apron and to the outside, and Jansen into the ropes. Ratigan is quick to take advantage of the situation, picking Jansen up off the mat, and sending him to the opposite ropes with an Irish whip.]

[He meets Jansen in the center of the ring, and nails him with a foot to the gut, bending him over. Then quickly grabs hold of Jansen's head, and executes a facebuster on the stunned man, driving Jansen's face into the mat.]

Jackson: Nicely executed by TJ Ratigan!

Sanchez: Ratigan's taking the momentum back for The Conspiracy. Blasier's brain-fart might have cost Superiority Complex the match.

[Ratigan tries to take advantage of the sudden turn of events and goes for the cover.]

ONE.....

TWO.....

[Kick out by Jansen.]

Jackson: Jansen was able to get his shoulder up before the referee even lifted his arm for a third time.

Sanchez: Curious, but Blasier didn't even make an attempt to break up the pin. I wonder what's going on in his head tonight.

Jackson: I think that's a question you could ask at any time, and never get a satisfactory answer for.

Sanchez: True. But I really thought he'd maintain focus for a match of this importance.

[Ratigan lifts Jansen to his feet, and nails him with a reverse knife edge chop. He then hooks Jansen's head under his arm, and falls back, proceeding to drive Jansen's head into the mat.]

Jackson: DDT by Ratigan.

Sanchez: Jansen's likely seeing stars.

[Ratigan, not wanting to waste the advantage, scoops Jansen up, and whips him to The Conspiracy's corner. As Jansen hits the corner turnbuckle, Dale reaches out and wraps his large arms around his neck, choking him. The referee starts his count, and Dale releases his hold on Jansen just before the referee reaches five.]

[Ratigan lays into Jansen, trapping him in the corner with a relentless assault of boots to the mid section. He tags Dale in, then motions toward the top rope. As Dale grabs a hold of Jansen, Ratigan scales the ropes, and remains perched on the top turnbuckle.]

[Dale lifts Jansen up, and executes at backbreaker. At the same time, Ratigan leaps off the top rope and lands atop Jansen with a double stomp.]

"OOOOOOHHHH!!"

Jackson: The crowd is on its feet after that one!

Sanchez: Oh my God, they just broke Evan Jansen!

[Ratigan vacates the ring, as Dale goes for the cover.]

ONE.....

TWO.....

THREE.....

[Just as the referee is about to hit the mat for the third time, Jansen lifts his foot and drops it onto the bottom rope.]

[Connors slaps the ring apron in frustration, yelling stern words at Dale for being too nonchalant with the cover.]

Jackson: No! Jansen just got his foot on the rope.

Sanchez: Lucky for Superiority Complex that Jansen was close enough to the ropes. Otherwise, I don't think he would have been able to kick out.

[Dale slaps the mat, frustrated at himself. He gets up off the mat, dragging Jansen along with him. Hoisting Jansen up onto his shoulder, Dale takes a couple of steps, then falls forward, slamming Jansen to the mat, his own weight impacting on top of Jansen as well.]

Jackson: Powerslam by Deacon Dale.

Sanchez: Jansen's taking a beating tonight. He's going to have to make a tag quickly, or Superiority Complex is in big trouble.

[Dale gets up off the mat, and walks up to within a foot of Blasier. He smirks, then swipes a slap attempt in Blasier's general direction, missing. Blasier makes as if to climb through the ropes, causing the referee to intercept him.]

[This allows Dale and Ratigan to go to work. Ratigan climbs inside the ring while the referee is distracted, trying to usher Blasier out of the ring. Dale takes Jansen's legs up under his arms, pivots, and begins to spin around, lifting Jansen off the mat. He releases Jansen to send him flying, just as Ratigan comes charging at him with a running dropkick, catching him full force in the face.]

"OOOOHHHHH!"

[Connors pops for the move just as much as the fans do. He grins widely, liking his team's chances.]

Jackson: Excellent teamwork by Dale and Ratigan.

Sanchez: Ratigan caught Jansen flush on the jaw. I wouldn't be surprised at a dislocation.

[Just for mere formality, Dale tags Ratigan in, making him the legal man. Ratigan moves over to Jansen, and stands over him, a smile on his face. With the toe of his boot, he rolls Jansen over onto his back, while shooting Blasier a smirk.]

[Blasier appears un-phased. He glances back at Ratigan with a similar smirk, and a shrug of his shoulders. Ratigan frowns, then points at Blasier to enter the ring. Blasier gestures to Jansen, indicating he's not the legal man, and can't oblige. Ratigan then lifts Jansen up, and against the protests of his partner, Dale, tosses Jansen toward Blasier's corner.]

Jackson: Ratigan just gave Jansen a free out!

Sanchez: This could potentially be the worst mistake Ratigan could make. He seemed to get unnerved by the fact Blasier appeared unimpressed, and fell into Blasier's psychological trap.

[With Jansen down and out, Blasier reaches down over the top of the ropes, and slaps Jansen's hand. He climbs inside the ring, and stands face to face with Ratigan, neither man backing down an inch.]

[Ratigan is the first to blink. He fires off a roundhouse punch, but Blasier ducks under it, and fires off a series of punches that, alternating between the head and gut, staggers Ratigan. With Ratigan stunned, Blasier charges the opposite ropes, and bounces off, using his momentum to carry him forward, and nail Ratigan with a running clothesline.]

[But to the dismay of those in attendance, and to Evan Jansen especially, Blasier doesn't press the advantage. Instead he walks over to their corner, and simply tags Jansen back in. Jansen, still groggy and only up to one knee, looks dumbfounded at being made the legal man.]

Jackson: What the...What is Blasier doing?

Sanchez: He's been in the World Wrestling Alliance for more than a year now, and still nobody has been able to figure out his motives. It appears not even his friend and tag team partner has an inkling about what goes on in that man's head.

[Luckily for Jansen, Ratigan is just as surprised. It allows Jansen to climb into the ring on an even playing field with him, and as Ratigan charges, his momentary hesitation costs him, as Jansen lands a flying knee smash that nearly takes Ratigan's head off.]

[Jansen follows up by waiting for Ratigan to get up off the mat, and then nails him with a solid shot to the mid section, doubling him over, and executing a belly to belly suplex, sending Ratigan up and over.]

Jackson: Jansen seems to have found his second wind.

Sanchez: Amazing. It seems Blasier's unorthodox strategy has actually ended up helping his team after all.

[Jansen, still wobbly and trying to shake the cobwebs from his head, grabs for Ratigan, but the wily champ reaches up and plunges a thumb into Jansen's eye.]

[Connors claps approvingly on the outside.]

Jackson: Dirty trick!

Sanchez: The referee is giving TJ an earful.

[Ratigan gets to his feet, and grabs onto a blinded Jansen. He whips him to their corner, where Dale's waiting knee finds its way into the small of Jansen's back, crumpling him to the mat.]

"BOOOOOO!"

Jackson: I think the fans have decided who they're cheering for, and it's not The Conspiracy.

Sanchez: My question is, are they cheering for Superiority Complex? Or for Evan Jansen?

[Ratigan tags in Dale, and the two proceed to pound away on Jansen, with stomps and kicks. Connors, being relatively calm throughout the match, shows his growing impatience and starts barking at them to put Jansen away. Dale and Ratigan nod, and lift Jansen up off the mat.]

Jackson: This could be the end for Jansen, and for Superiority Complex's hopes of walking away as World tag team champions.

Sanchez: It'll be quite the vindication for The Conspiracy as well, considering the part Jansen and Blasier played in their win against The Texas Outlaws at International Wars.

[With a double Irish whip, Dale and Ratigan send Jansen screaming toward the opposite ropes. He bounces off the ropes, his momentum returning him to them. They clutch arms, and charge at him in a double clothesline attempt. But at the last moment, Jansen ducks under the attempt, hits the ropes, and bounces back, this time using his own momentum to carry him, and levels both men with a double clothesline.]

"YEEAAAAHHH!!"

Jackson: Evan Jansen just kept Superiority Complex's slim hopes alive.

Sanchez: He's still got to make the tag though.

[Blasier seems to perk up at Jansen's show of determination. But in another bizarre move, he hops down off the ring apron, and bends low, searching for something underneath the ring.]

[Jansen isn't aware of his partner's antics. While he's gained a short reprieve, he's still struggling just to get to his feet, and make his way to the safety of his corner. Meanwhile, Ratigan and Dale are both up to their feet, and stalking after him.]

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

Jackson: The fans are chanting Jansen's name. Their support seems to be spurring him on.

Sanchez: But Dale and Ratigan are in fast pursuit. I don't think he'll make it to tag Blasier in time.

[Again, the duo grab hold of him, ignoring the referee's orders to vacate the ring. But Jansen fires back with a flurry of punches and kicks, fighting for his life like some kind of cornered and wounded animal. Ratigan takes a punch to the nose for his trouble, staggering him back. And a kick finds its mark on the inside of Dale's knee, sending him down to one knee.]

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

Jackson: Listen to that crowd, Sylvia. They've come alive.

Sanchez: They certainly have. For much of the match, the crowd seemed intent on sitting back and watching both hated teams beat each other to a pulp. But now they've found someone to cheer on, and his name is Evan Jansen.

[Connors, not pleased with the sudden turn of events, is pounding on the ring apron, barking instructions to his men.]

[Jansen, having fought his way to within a lunge away from his corner, pushes his body to the limit and beyond, past the point of exhaustion, the adrenaline carrying his legs forward a painful step at a time toward his corner.]

[His vacant corner.]

[Blasier, with something clutches in his arms like a football, his body shielding it from view, hops back up onto the ring apron, just in time to see his partner's approach.]

[Behind Jansen, Ratigan and Dale are up, and resuming the pursuit.]

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

"JAN-SEN!"

[Dale grabs on to Jansen, before he can reach the corner. He spins him around, but is met by a huge, desperation Enzuigiri kick that flattens him immediately. Likewise, Ratigan attempts to grab a hold of Jansen, but is met by a low blow, followed by a desperation DDT.]

"YEEAAAAHHH!!"

Jackson: Jansen's fighting back! He's going to do it! He's going to make the tag!

Sanchez: I can't believe the fortitude shown by him tonight. Evan Jansen has gone up in my estimation after his display tonight. Win, lose, or draw, Jansen has proven he's got the fighting spirit of a champion tonight.

[The fans, as odd as it sounds, cheer wildly as both members of The Conspiracy are down and out, and Jansen staggers unimpeded toward his corner, where Blasier awaits. His legs can barely carry him, but Jansen plods on, and as he reaches out his arm to his partner, he actually manages a triumphant smile. The fans roar as Jansen gets to within a foot of Blasier, his arm outstretched to his friend.]

[And in a scene that seems to play out in slow motion, the proverbial air is sucked out of the entire arena, as Blasier whirls around, and the object he was so secretly hiding from curious eyes, flashes into sight.]

[The titanium knee brace.]

[There is a split second, where if you blinked you missed it, where Jansen's eyes actually go wide in utter shock, and the expression on his face is one of disbelief, as though he can't believe it's happening.]

[And then, with Blasier's full momentum played out, he nails Jansen, his tag team partner, his friend, in the jaw with the titanium knee brace.]

[And as he watches Jansen, knocked unconscious, fall to the mat, a smile pulls back the corners of his mouth.]

Jackson: WHAT...

Sanchez: THE....

Jackson & Sanchez: HELL?!

"BOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[Hopping down off the ring apron, Blasier polishes off the titanium knee brace with his hand, and starts toward the entrance aisle. The fans hurl abuse at him in the form of taunts and half-full beer cups. And even Wyatt Connors looks on in disbelief, as Blasier passes by him, offering nothing more than a grin and a shrug as explanation.]

[As Blasier makes his way back up the aisle, toward the back, Connors is the first to snap out of the momentary shock. He barks instructions at his men, telling them to 'end it now'.]

[Almost on instinct, Dale and Ratigan jump to the command. With a vicious smile, knowing full well they could pin Jansen now and win the match, they decide to end the match on their terms.]

Jackson: They're going for Deux Ex Machination.

Sanchez: This is overkill.

Jackson: I guess they want to send their own message to Jansen.

Sanchez: I don't think Wyatt Connors is in any shape to perform his part. But it's moot at this point, anyway. Jansen's done.

"BBOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[Dale lifts Jansen's limp form up, and sets him on his shoulders. As Ratigan climbs to the top rope, glances down at Connors for approval, and gets a thumbs up. He then takes flight and hits Jansen with a somersault neckbreaker, bringing him off of Dale's shoulders, sending him crashing onto the mat. Ratigan goes for the cover.]

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

ONE.....

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

TWO.....

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

THREE.....

[And standing at the top of the entrance ramp, Ryan Blasier smiles one last time, before disappearing behind the curtain.]

*DING!*

*DING!*

*DING!*

Jackson: It's over! The Conspiracy has defeated Superiority Complex!

Sanchez: The Conspiracy was the better team on this night. And let me stress the word "team".

[Connors grabs the two championship belts, and slides himself into the ring with a bit of effort. He hobbles up to a standing position, and hands Dale and Ratigan the belts.]

Isaac Davenport: The winners of this match.....

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

Isaac Davenport: And still World Wrestling Alliance World Tag Team Champions.....

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

Isaac Davenport: THE CONSPIRACY!

["Open Your Eyes" by the Guano Apes roars over the arena speakers, as the three members of The Conspiracy celebrate their victory in the center of the ring.]

[The fans continue to shower the trio, and the ring, with all sorts of debris, turning the ring into one giant garbage bin.]

Jackson: The Conspiracy has now solidified themselves as the legitimate World tag team champions, having disposed of two very talented teams along the way in The Texas Outlaws, and now Superiority Complex.

Sanchez: Despite Blasier's betrayal, Dale and Ratigan proved to be a juggernaut. I can't honestly see any team being able to defeat them. Even without Blasier's antics, The Conspiracy held the advantage for most of the evening. His vile act merely expedited the end result.

Jackson: The question on everyone's mind now is, why Blasier, why?

Sanchez: You know, Mario, I'm not sure we'll ever get the real answer.

[As the champions celebrate, Evan Jansen rolls out of the ring, in an attempt to escape further punishment. Unfortunately, he doesn't have enough energy to get all the way to the back, and stops to catch his breath at ringside...right in front of Wyatt Connors. The leader of the Conspiracy regards the young man curiously, but quietly--in fact, he hasn't had much to say since Ryan Blasier walked out of the match. He just leans heavily on his crutches, and...looks.]

Jackson: Wyatt Connors is looking...well, a little confused. I don't think even he anticipated Blasier's actions tonight!

Sanchez: Ah, what's he so bugged about? After all, his team got the--HOLY SHIT!

[In that moment of banter, Wyatt Connors had tossed aside one of his crutches, grabbed the other with both hands, lifted it high, and then brought it crashing down on the prone form of Evan Jansen.]

[WHACK!]

Jackson: Wyatt Connors has just attacked Evan Jansen--as if Jansen hasn't suffered enough already!

[Connors, obviously unsympathetic to Jansen's plight, continues the assault. After a few swings, the crutch breaks...but Connors wastes no time in throwing it aside and picking up the other, then beating Jansen with that one.]

[Wyatt Connors is known for many things; one of them is keeping his head under stressful conditions. Yet there is no sign of that composure right now--Wyatt Connors' face is red with anger, and he screams his frustrations while bringing the crutch down on Evan Jansen's head repeatedly.]

[WHACK!]

"YOU!"

[WHACK!]

"RUINED!"

[WHACK!]

"EVERYTHING!"

[WHACK!]

"YOU!"

[WHACK!]

"LITTLE!"

[WHACK!]

"SHIT!"

[WHACK!]

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

[For the next few seconds, Connors does not move, merely recovering his breath--he barely seems to notice when the splintered remains of his weapon fall from his grasp. Then, he reaches down to his leg, tears off his cast--something you're definitely not supposed to be able to do--and walks back up the ramp. Not hobbles, not limps...walks.]

[He pauses by the entrance and turns back to Dale and Ratigan, who are still in shock from Connors' outburst. They immediately leave the ring and start running toward their manager...but by the time they are halfway up the ramp, Wyatt Connors has already disappeared behind the curtain.]

Sanchez: What the hell just happened?

Jackson: I...have no idea. Some amazing developments coming out of the World Tag Title match, ladies and gentlemen, and hopefully we'll find out what it all means very soon.

For a final time, the feed of Paige’s stolen camera cuts into the broadcast. The image is of Paige’s focused face, staring directly into the lens. He is holding the camera up to himself, as if speaking to it directly.

Paige: “They say that just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. As I have been sitting here, waiting for my shot at the gold, it’s been happening. I have seen my childhood, my training, my victories, and my defeats. All of it, flashing before my eyes in little brief flickers. It is like living all over again. But, I am not about to die. Rather, I feel like I am about to live. To be reborn. You see, through all my preparation for this upcoming match, I have been forced to confront the reality of my immediate future. I confronted turning into a commodity. I confronted turning into a target. I even confronted turning into a monster. But somehow, I survived all of it. I made it all this way.

“I cannot help but think of that little child back in New York, the one I gave that shirt too. He is probably watching this right now, waiting for me to come out there and show the world, win that title. He is probably wearing that shirt I bought for him, that one that I signed. He is probably sitting there, curled in it, besides his parents, glued to the TV and anxiously awaiting the match-up. Well, I want him to know that I didn’t forget about him, that I still have him in mind. As a matter of fact, I want him to see this.”

Paige lowers the camera, revealing that he is wearing the home-made “Irish Fire” T-shirt that the child had tried to get signed originally.

Paige: “I like wearing this shirt, I like being the hero to the little kids like that. I never really expected to be a hero, honestly. I just sort of became one. How trite it is to say that though, really. No one who ever is called a hero ever claims they set out for it. They never say, ‘well, I woke up this morning and figured, what the hell, time to be heroic.’ I guess in my nervousness I must be getting cliché. All I can really hope is, after this match is over, I might still be the sort of person who can wear this t-shirt. Who can still go ahead and be that kids hero. Not a weakling, and not a product. Just a good man, and a good fighter.

"Despite my efforts to inspire, Team WR proved the skeptics right I guess. They fought hard, I will give that to them, but in the end the WCWA still overcame them. You know, for all my cheering for them, there was a part of me that secretly wanted them to lose, I guess. I am ashamed to admit that, but it’s the truth. If they lost, it would dishonor the fed, and Ireland, but, it would free me. I would not have had to worry so much about carrying all that weight. I could lose in peace. The WR is just overclassed, who can judge Paige for losing if his fed lost as well? It was just a bad year for them. Of course, now that I am in that situation, I do not know what to think. While I have the perfect excuse to lose, I still have my dignity, and the hopes of my fed riding on my shoulders. I guess, once again I need to go out there and be the golden boy.

“I think I can hear the crowd starting to chant. It must be getting time. I only have about a minute left before I need to get ready, to head down that hallway, down that ramp, and to my future. Before I go though, I feel like I have to say goodbye. Not to you, but to myself. Everything I have been up to this point, I can never be again after tonight. I can never be the Golden Boy, the upshot, the underdog, and the kid no one saw coming. I will either be a Champion, or nothing at all. Either I will have an established legacy, a destiny everyone expected of me, or proven that all of those hopes we unfounded.”

A knock can be heard at the door.

Voice: “Mr. Paige? It’s time.”

Paige: “I guess I know why my life has been flashing before my eyes. I am going to die. David Paige, as he has been known, is on his final legs. In that ring, I will be forced to be something new, regardless of the results. This camera is recording the final moments of David Paige. This is my last memory. The last time I will ever be seen.”

Paige sets the camera down, angling it towards the door. He vanishes off-screen for a moment, and then returns with his title. Just before he opens the door, he gives one final look back at the camera, resting there, watching him. He sighs, turns back to the door, and leaves. After a few seconds of empty space, the feed ends.

[Backstage, Josh Styles lounges lazily on a wooden bench, holding an ice pack to his knee. He's wearing his wrestling attire from earlier in the evening, and other than a few minor bumps, he looks in relatively good shape after his match earlier in the evening, when Team WWA defeated Team NWA.]

[Sitting next to him, his face in a perpetual scowl, is Styles' long time tag team partner, and best friend, Sebastian Black. The former WWA World tag team champion is dressed in casual attire, consisting of a pair of jeans, a red button up short sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of brown leather sandals.]

Black: "You really know how to pick them, don't you?"

[Styles glanced sidelong at his friend, confused.]

Styles: "Huh?"

Black: "These lame-duck companies you keep signing with. The latest one, Lost Highway Wrestling, shut down after one show."

[Black shoots his friend a teasing smile.]

Black: "You're bad luck, my friend. I feel sorry for whoever signs you next."

[Tossing the ice pack at his friend, Styles gets up from the bench, and paces around the locker room, testing out his sore knee.]

Styles: "Seems that way, don't it? I don't know, Sebastian. This shit's gotta stop. I mean, do you know how much it costs to ship my furniture cross-country every second month? Fuckin' ridiculous."

[Black turns serious now.]

Black: "So what are you going to do?"

[Styles seems to think about it for a moment, then shrugs.]

Styles: "No clue, chief. I've got a few offers. But right now I'm not gonna worry about that shit. I've got a match to win."

[Black chuckles softly, causing Styles to glare, thinking his friend is laughing at the notion of him winning the Summer Games battle royal.]

Styles: "Something funny?"

[Black shakes his head.]

Black: "Not that. I just can't help but think of how far you've come in the past twelve months. You're really starting to show the world what you've got. Sometimes I wonder if me getting hurt was the best thing that could have happened for your career."

[Styles shakes his head emphatically.]

Styles: "Don't even say that shit."

Black: "It's true though, isn't it? You're one match away from earning yourself a World title shot. That's something you'd never have received if we were still a team."

Styles: "Yeah. Instead we'd be dominating the tag division. I don't really see that as a step down."

[Black eyes his friend knowingly, but decides not to push the debate. He shrugs, then nods his head.]

Black: "Either way, you deserve this, Josh. I've known for years the kind of talent you have, the potential you have. Tonight, the rest of the world will find out what I already knew."

[The comment causes Styles to smile from ear to ear. He then clears his throat, turning a wry smile upon his friend.]

Styles: "We're not gonna hug now, are we?"

[Black, ever the stoic individual, shakes his head.]

Black: "No. But when you walk out of the arena tonight as the Summer Games champion, I can't make any promises."

[Both men laugh. Styles' laugh is one of anticipation, excitement over the possibility of winning it all. Black's is one of pride for his friend.]

[It's the first time the members of the Lincoln Park Mafia have been in the same building for an event since their loss to Michael Lennox and CJ Rowell.]

[This time, the outcome will be different.]

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...”

[The house lights dimmed noticeably, and those who were in this arena to watch the best in the world, by very definition, edged to the edges of their seats. Some stood, some just leaned forward. The fans in the first row began to bang on the guardrails, the “WWA”, “WCWA”, and “World Wrestling Alliance” logos dinged and dented from a night's worth of abuse.]

“THIS IS ONE OF YOUR TWO MAIN EVENTS...”

[Some of the fans were grinning, some were sitting on their hands to keep from being antsy and nervous. Some of these fans just wanted to know who the champion of Summer Games 2007 would be! But some, they were more concerned with the biggest title of them all. The top dog, the WWA World Heavyweight Championship. Held by some of the biggest names ever, some of the strangest, but almost always the best.]

“AND THIS MATCH IS FOR THE WORLD WRESTLING ALLIANCE'S WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAAAAAAAAMPIONSHIP!”

[Earsplitting cheers. The biggest title in the business today. Better than the he NWA World title. Bigger than anything overseas. Defended all over the world, against some of the toughest guys ever. The Big Gold Belt that defined Big Gold Belts.]

“COMING FIRST TO THE RING...”

[A heady drumbeat, and flashing houselights. “Thrown Away”, by VAST. The strobes and spotlights hit the man slowly walking out from the back. A green t-shirt on his chest, looking to be homemade. An “Irish Fire” logo, strangely familiar to the fans tuning in from Ireland. It was a fan-made logo, having been popularized in the Emerald Isle federation of the WWA.]

“HAILING FROM DUBLIN, IRELAND...”

[As the guitar hit its first notes, Paige lifted his arms upward, and pillars of green flame erupted from the entryway ramp, smoke drifting towards the roof, as he was silhouetted by the hellish pyrotechnics. Looking like a creature from the green depths of the abyss, Paige began to slowly walk forward, drinking in the cheers and applause of the fans.]

“IRISH FIRE... DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVID... PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIGE!”

[Hands held out to his sides, the fans already begging for him to high-five them. Paige headed down the ramp, high-fiving nearly every man, woman, and child who put his or her hand out for Paige to touch. Their brush with greatness over, the fans who slapped Paige's hands would go back to cheering for the natural-born hero of the homeland of the Shamrock.]

[And don't forget the glittering gold-and-green championship belt around his waist. The top title of the Wrestling Republic, the Emerald Island Championship. As Paige headed down to the ring, he stroked a hand, almost possessively, over the faceplate of the WR Championship.]

[Paige looked around, seeming a bit... nervous, almost, before he rolled under the bottom rope. Rising to his feet, Paige pulled his shirt up and off. Holding it reverently before him, Paige folded it neatly, and placed the folded-up shirt on the mat, below the bottom turnbuckle. Taking off the Emerald Isle Championship, Paige held it up for a moment, the light catching on the glimmering green and gold, flashbulbs bathing the biggest name in Ireland with light. Bringing it back down, Paige folded the belt up, and placed it down, like an offering to God, on the shirt. A stagehand slipped up to move the belt and the shirt away, to keep from being broken or trampled on.]

[Paige began to pace, back and forth, from one side of the ring to the other, looking anxiously towards the entryway ramp. Lights came back up, as the music died, a fan-chant of “I-RISH FI-YAH~! I-RISH FI-YAH~!” started up, as Paige tested the ring ropes, tightened his wrist tape, and generally prepared, however he could, for a World Title Shot.]

“AND COMING NEXT TO THE RING...”

[The lights dimmed once more, but, this time, no strobes, no spotlights. Just the normal lights on the entryway ramp, shining over the bald, gleaming form of the man who is arguably the best man in the AWA. Right hand went skyward, as the former AWA Heavyweight Champion glanced around the arena. Some fans cheered.]

“HAILING FROM QUEENS, NEW YORK...”

[Some booed. His actions in the AWA hadn't been terribly respectful recently, including some horrendous assaults on the top contenders for the AWA Heavyweight Title. So, as he headed down to the ring, the sleek black man would get some people trying to slap his hand, some flipping him off. Horrey curled his lip, but just shrugged it off, and headed to the ring itself.]

“HE IS SAM... THE MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN... HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORREY!”

[Paige backed up as Horrey slid into the ring. The two men eyed one another for a few moments, before Horrey headed to the ring ropes facing the camera, and, grabbing the top rope, threw his right hand skyward again, shouting to the fans. Paige circled warily, sizing up his opponent, and as Horrey turned, Paige narrowed his eyes a little bit.]

[Horrey and Paige stared at one another, Irish man and Black man, both minorities in their own way. For the second major pay-per-view in a row, the World Title match would consist of all minorities. Great strides in equality, eh?]

“AND FINALLY COMING TO THE RING...”

[Fans of the World champ lit up, cheers and cries of glorious happiness as Thomas Bane's music, “Never Forget Where I'm From”, by Justin, began to echo over the house speakers. A slow, island-rhythm song, very heritage-ical, fitting for the Hawaiian. As the Champ came out from the back, the fans erupted even more. Whether people agree or disagree with his victory against Khalid Jad, the fans loved the Hawaiian.]

“HAILING FROM HONOLULU, HAWAII...”

[Green tights that cut off just below the knee, the word BANE running down the right pant leg, in bold white block letters, the Hawaiian flag on his right kneepad, Bane slowly headed down to the ring, the Big Gold Belt, the title that means so much to so many, around his waist, glittering dully, with a shiny, much-beloved luster.]

“HE IS THE WORLD WRESTLING ALLIANCE'S WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION...”

[After he satisfied himself, shaking the hands of as many fans as he felt he could do, Bane came down to the ring, eyes locked on his opponents. Bane slid into the ring, under the bottom rope. Coming to his feet, Bane unlatched that belt, a stony-faced, cold stare at Paige, then to Horrey. The title was held up, dangling from one hand, as the fans cheered their little hearts out for the Champ.]

“THOMAS... BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!”

[The Champ handed the title belt over, with a smile and a handshake. Glancing over the arranged people, Bane took a deep breath, before he headed for an empty corner, preparing for his first title defense.]

[The three men stared at one another for a few moments, as the fans cheered in their own ways. Some cheered “SAM THE MAN! SAM THE MAN!”, some continued their earlier “I-RISH FI-YAH! I-RISH FI-YAH!” chant, some cried out “BANE! BANE! BANE!”. The referee bunched the title belt's straps up behind the faceplate, before walking over to Paige. The title was held before Paige, who just, reverently, laid a hand on it, eyes closing for a moment.]

[After a few seconds, the title belt was taken away from Paige, and carried over to Horrey, who just grinned, stroking a fingertip over the nameplate, reading “THOMAS BANE”. Horrey flicked an eyebrow upward, and glanced up to the referee, just giving a little grin.]

[The bell rang.]

Sanchez: “After all this... We've got one of the two main events!”

Jackson: “Indeed, a triple threat for the top title!”

Sanchez: “I just wish someone was reppin' the mothership, here. We've got a black guy from the South, a Fightin' Irish from the Blarney Stone, and a Hawaiian Punch! Where're the Cali boys at?”

[Paige, Horrey, and Bane circled for the briefest of moments, before Horrey rushed Bane, firing off a series of absolutely BRUTAL palm strikes and elbows. Paige just took a step back, as Horrey hammered a knee into Bane's stomach, hooked the head, and with a pop of the hips, Horrey brought Bane up, and right down, with a quick suplex!]

[As soon as Horrey brought Bane down, though, Horrey sprang to his knees, watching Paige warily. In a match like this, you had to watch your back at all times, and Horrey was not new to the “Big Match” scenario. Coming slowly upward, Horrey watched Irish Fire, and Paige watched The Man.]

[The two locked up, hooking and twirling a few times, before Horrey locked up tight, REAL tight with Paige, and began throwing knees, hammering Paige's midsection! The Emerald Isle Champion was battered repeatedly with the knees, until Paige stumbled back some, dropping to a knee. A grin on his lips, Horrey began to throw palm strikes, elbows, and then, dashing over the fallen Bane, Horrey hit the ropes. Coming back, Horrey SPIKED Paige in the face with a thrusting kick, dropping Irish Fire to the mat.]

Sanchez: “What a kick! Horrey wants to take Paige out early, before Paige can rally any momentum!”

[Horrey turned, catching his breath, only to turn right into a shoulder butt to the stomach from Bane! Taking advantage of the distraction inherent in a triple threat, Bane began to fire back on the surprised AWA wrestler. Rights and lefts, forearms and chops, and Bane hooked the head, hitting a quick snap suplex! Scooping Horrey up, Bane hammered a boot into the stomach, and dropped Horrey with a DDT! With Horrey on the ground, Bane hit the ropes, and leapt into the air, dropping a big elbow on Horrey's sternum, driving the air from his lungs.]

Jackson: “What a series of moves! Forearms, chops, a snap suplex and a DDT! And it doesn't look like Bane is done!”

[Dragging Horrey over to the corner, Bane lifted the black man up, seating him on the top. Climbing slowly up, Bane began to hook Horrey for the superplex... but Paige was up! Dashing to the corner, Paige hammered a forearm into the small of Bane's back, shoving Bane over the top rope! Bane landed on the apron, and Paige began firing off right hands, forearms and elbows of his own, knocking Bane to the floor! Turning, Paige hit the ropes, and as he came back, he leapt over the top with a suicide dive, knocking both Paige and Bane to the floor!]

Sanchez: “PLANCHA! Paige going high-risk, rather early in the match!”

Jackson: “You know, I've done some research recently, and Paige, going into this match, has been a bit... off.”

Sanchez: “Getting a shot at the top can do that to you.”

Jackson: “I think being the second guy named for this match might have gotten to him, made him feel like people don't think he belongs...”

[As Horrey slid down from the top rope, Paige got to hands and knees, slowly crawling under the ring. Where he disappeared to from there was unknown, but Horrey, at least, climbed out of the ring, and headed right for Bane. With a glance around to ensure that Paige wasn't coming up from behind, Horrey rolled Bane right into the ring, under the bottom rope, not bothering to use the outside to his advantage. Sliding in behind, Horrey came to his feet just as Paige slid into the ring, from the opposite side.]

[Horrey and Paige stared at one another for a moment, Paige's hands fidgeting by his sides as he watched the guy originally named to be the contender to the World Champ. Horrey just gave a little grin, and brought his hands upward, into a martial arts pose. The two began to circle, Paige watching Horrey warily.]

Sanchez: “Paige looking nervous with the only other man up being Horrey...”

[Paige and Horrey closed with one another, and Horrey threw a punch, Paige narrowly dodging out of the way. Paige turned, and Horrey threw another, that Paige just barely ducked! Another punch thrown, and Paige grabbed that one, quickly turning and cinching an armlock on the beefy arm of The Man. As Horrey struggled to reverse the armlock, Paige leaned back some, and reached out with his leg, and before Horrey knew what was going on, Paige had tripped Horrey to the mat! Dropping to his back, Paige hooked a cross arm breaker on, leaning back and trying to twist that arm over his chest!]

Jackson: “Either I'm drunk as a skunk, or Paige just one-upped Horrey, turning that flurry of punches into an armbar!”

Sanchez: “Paige has scouted Horrey well, even if he feels like he may not belong here!”

[As Paige pulled the arm back, Horrey gritted his eyes, trying to reach out with his legs toward the ring ropes. However, he needn't have bothered, as Horrey's arm was twisted, Bane hammered a forearm and elbow into Paige's head, breaking up the submission attempt! As Paige rolled to the apron, Bane glanced after him, and over to the fallen Horrey. Not wanting to give up the slight advantage, Bane shoved Paige out of the ring with a boot, tumbling Irish Fire to the floor.]

[And then, as soon as Paige was out of the ring, Bane went back to Horrey, hooking a leg over his arm, and latching on an armbar of his own! The already-battered shoulder under torque and tension, Bane rolled Horrey over, and hooked the armbar on in an entirely new angle!]

Jackson: “What Paige started, Bane wants to take advantage of!”

Sanchez: “That's why he's become the World Champ! He knows when to capitalize on a good thing!”

[Bane tightened the torque, but after all the repositioning, Horrey managed to hook an ankle over the bottom rope, forcing a break! Bane leaned back on his knees, stroking a hand through his short hair. Exasperation and worry evident on his face, Bane stood, and grabbed Horrey's arm, dragging him slowly to the center of the ring.]

Sanchez: “He's hooked the leg... And he's got that battered shoulder!”

Jackson: “STF! STF!”

Sanchez: “Not just an STF! Look at the torque, the elevation of the neck and back!”

[Bane had the Bane of Your Existence on, locked in super-tight on Sam Horrey! Paige was on the floor... or so Bane could tell, at least. Cinching the BoYE on, tighter and tighter, Bane was slowly bending Horrey backwards, into a “C”, doing his best to push the arm from the socket and make Horrey tap!]

Sanchez: “HERE HE COMES TO SAVE THE DAY”

[Paige out of nowhere, dropping the big elbow on the back of Bane's head... but Bane wouldn't let go! He furiously shook his head, cinching the facelock tighter and tighter! Paige stood, eyes wide, and stroked a hand over his hair, furiously thinking, as he stomped idly at Bane's kidney.]

Sanchez: “Bane just won't let go! He's got Horrey bent nearly double, backwards, and he won't let go of the submission!”

Jackson: “If he loses the advantage now... y'see... He's lost his advantage.”

[Paige threw both arms out to the side, and leapt upward, bringing his knees to his chest as he flipped forward! Back came down with a thud, directly on Bane's, and Bane's back arched, hands spasming as the full weight of the WR Champion came down on the small of Bane's back, on those itty vertebra down near the tailbone!]

[With Bane's hold broken, Paige rolled Bane off Horrey, and slid the champion away from the fallen challenger, to try and keep the two apart... Ensuring that Horrey couldn't press the advantage! With Bane down, Paige stroked his forehead, and... Began to hammer home a series of stomps onto Bane's sternum, trying to drive the wind out of the big man.]

Jackson: “Why's Paige not going for something more... effective? After he managed to pull Bane off Horrey, why not go for... like... a sleeper or something?”

Sanchez: “I... don't know.”

[The Champion began to force himself back up to his feet, as Horrey began to slowly crawl to the ropes, and climb himself up the ropes. As Paige fired right hands and lefts, Bane put both hands on Paige's chest, shoving him backwards. Almost comically, Paige tumbled, ass over teakettle, to the mat, and came back to his feet. Bane stood, and as Paige came forward, Bane threw a big clothesline, knocking Paige to the mat like Paige was shot!]

Jackson: “What a clothesline!”

Sanchez: “Paige is down!”

[Not one to pass up the attempt, Bane dropped to his knees and hooked the leg for a pin attempt. However, almost as the ref's hand dropped for the third time, Paige managed to kick out, rolling to his stomach, eyes squeezed shut in agony. Horrey had stumbled over to try and break the pin... Not one to waste effort needlessly, he stomped Bane in the face anyhow!]

[Bane rolled off, falling to his ass, hand held over his face, but Horrey didn't let up. Stamping directly into the back of Bane's head, he kept kicking, over and over and over, until Bane fell to his hands! Reaching down one-armed, Horrey began to pull Bane back up, and as soon as he did... Horrey looped an arm around Bane's neck, slipping behind, and bent back, leaning Bane over Horrey's back with a modified sleeper!]

Jackson: “Horrey's workin' on one arm, but he's still got Bane quite securely!”

[Bane turned, and Horrey ended up in a side headlock. With Bane bent over, Horrey cinched up tightly, and tried throwing a knee... but the champion caught the knee, and lifted Horrey up... and dropped him down, slamming the smaller man to the mat! Climbing atop, Bane began to fire off rights and lefts, pounding his fists into the AWA grappler's face, while Paige climbed to his feet.]

[Under siege, Horrey shoved Bane off, and rolled away, climbing to his feet. His lip curled, as Bane came up, Paige rising as well. Ignoring Paige, Bane rushed forward, to clinch with Horrey. Breaking under and slipping behind for a hammerlock, Bane yanked up on the arm. Horrey ducked with Bane's movements, though, and slipped behind Bane! Locking his arms around the waist, Horrey popped the hips, hurling Bane overhead like a rocket!]

Jackson: “What a German!”

Sanchez: “Bane's down! Can Horrey capitalize, or will Paige interject?!”

[As Horrey went for a quick pin, Paige dashed in, and hammered a boot into the side of Horrey's head. Rolling Horrey off, Paige pulled him to his feet, and stomped a boot into Horrey's stomach. With Horrey doubled over, Paige hooked his arms under the AWA grappler's arms, and his legs around the waist with a tight butterfly-body scissors... the Scar!]

Sanchez: “Paige with the Scar! Horrey's arm is already weakened! Will he tap?”

[With Paige yanking up tight on the arms, Bane forced himself up, and hammered a fist into the side of Paige's head! Paige rolled away, falling limp on the ring apron, and Bane just sighed. Coming fully to his feet, Bane staggered back a little, but rushed forward, to look over the ropes at Paige. Grabbing the top rope, Bane leapt over it, coming down with both feet on Paige's back, crouching and leaping off, Paige's back arching and a scream of agony coming from the Irishman!]

[Bane dropped to the floor, and pulled Paige out of the ring, then slid back in. Heading over to Horrey, Bane pulled Horrey up, to his feet... But Horrey began firing back! Rights and lefts, the two men firing off, again and again! As they brawled, Paige slid back into the ring, all full of piss and vinegar! With Horrey and Bane brawling, Paige dashed over and hammered an elbow into Horrey's temple, then into Bane's! Both men staggered, but then Bane fired off a huge right hand!]

[Paige staggered to Horrey, who just fired off a big right hand, sending Paige back to Bane! Paige staggered to Bane, holding his jaw, and Bane hammered a right hand into Paige's jaw, dropping Paige to the mat! Horrey grinned, as Paige sat up, and fired a soccer kick off into Paige's back, the crack of which echoed out into the rafters! Paige's back arched... and Bane stepped up, firing a kick of his own! Paige dropped to his chest, and Bane and Horrey glanced to one another...]

Jackson: “Bane's off and running!”

Sanchez: “He's going for a pin attempt, I think!”

[Hooking the pelvis, Bane dropped to his side, rolling Horrey onto his back. Trying for a pin, Bane barely got a two-count, as Horrey kicked out. Hooking the arm as Horrey rose, Bane shot off an arm drag, sending Horrey into the corner, and Bane followed real quick, hammering a knee into the side of Horrey's head! With Paige sitting, trying to compose himself in one corner, Horrey in the other, Bane threw his head back and howled with energy!]

[The Champ turned, and dashed at Paige, firing off a knee into Paige's face! Turning, Bane turned and kept running, heading for Horrey... Who leapt up, hooking his arms around Bane, and threw Bane right overhead with a belly-to-belly! Horrey's eyes widened, as he howled, smelling a possible win... and Horrey crouched, beckoning for Bane to rise... But out of nowhere, Paige came flying over at Horrey! Horrey leapt, and spun, going for that Street Sweeper roundhouse, but Paige ducked it! As Horrey went for the leg sweep portion, Paige leapt over, a man playing jump rope... and Bane, who was still rising from the effects of the belly-to-belly caught the spinning shin kick directly in the face!]

[With Paige still up, Horrey went nuts, firing off rights and lefts, brutal closed fists! The referee tried to warn Horrey to open his hands if he was going to throw punches like that, but Horrey wouldn't pay any heed! Ducking a right hand, Paige fired off a quick European uppercut, stopping Horrey's momentum, and Paige dashed forward, stepping off of Horrey's knee and cracking his own knee into Horrey's temple!]

[Horrey stumbled back, and Paige dashed forward... Only for Paige to get back body dropped over the top rope! Falling to the ringside area, Paige landed heavily, as Horrey slid out of the ring. Kicking Paige in the back, Horrey put Paige against the steel guardrail, and turned, trotting down the side of the ring. Turning, Horrey howled, and rushed forward, wanting to smash Paige's head like a melon... and Paige turned, hammering his shoulders into Horrey's knees! Forward momentum not dead, but his feet out from under him, Horrey's face smashed cruelly into the guardrail!]

[Paige stood, and slid back into the ring, the referee unsure what to do but try to climb out of the ring and see if Horrey was still alive, much yet conscious! With Paige going after Bane, eyes wide with adrenaline, the referee dove back in... and Horrey headed to the apron, trying to pull himself back up. Grasping the fabric, Horrey pulled himself slowly upward, forehead absolutely gushing blood, streams going down the nose, cheeks, and around the mouth! He glanced to the entryway, and beckoned weakly, as Paige and Bane traded brutal right hands in the ring.]

[Horrey forced himself back into the ring as Ryan Matthews, one of Horrey's running buddies in the AWA, came running down to the ring, metal gleaming dully on each hand. As Horrey stood, shakily, Matthews came to the side of the ring. Paige hit a Water Wheel drop, slamming Bane down with all of Paige's weight atop him, and turned, just in time for the Man to make his move. Horrey had got equipped with brass knucks on each hand, and as Paige turned, Horrey fired a right, hammering Paige's temple and staggering him. Then... Horrey fired a left, cracking it directly into Paige's forehead! Blood sprayed in a fine mist, as Paige crumpled to his ass like a marionette with the strings cut.]

Sanchez: “BRASS KNUCKLES!”

Jackson: “THE REF DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

Sanchez: “This is the WORLD TITLE MATCH! There must be a winner!”

[Horrey tossed the brass knuckles out of the ring, and went for a leg-hook, trying for a pin on Paige. The referee slipped in, to count the pin on the nigh-lifeless Paige!]

[One!]

[Two!]

[Dramatic pause.]

Jackson: “WILL IT BE THREE?!”

[Drama... Llama.]

[NO~!]

[BANE came out of nowhere, dropping his entire weight on both men, forcing Horrey's pin to be invalid by his sheer presence! The referee leaned back, shaking his head as Horrey rolled away, blood dripping from his chin, glaring at Bane with the look of a hateful, hateful man. Paige shuddered some, blood from the split on his brow actually flowing up, and staining that black hair a deep red.]

[Horrey and Bane both stood, one covered in blood, one looking just plain weary. With over fifteen minutes, maybe 20 elapsed in the match thus far, neither man was fresh, but as Bane grinned, Horrey snarled. With the blood loss, Horrey would have to win quickly, if he wanted to win at all.]

[With a howl of boundless fury, Horrey lashed forward, hammering fists and elbows and a HEADBUTT and knees into Bane, bashing Bane's jaw and temples, sending Bane staggering back, doubling Bane over! With a knee slamming into Bane's face, Bane's head snapped up, and slowly, Bane began to fall. However, Horrey didn't want Bane to have a nice, leisurely drop, so Horrey slapped an arm across Bane's chest and a foot behind Bane's, sweeping the legs out from under him and powering Bane's head into the mat with a thud, with an STO!]

[The damage not done, Horrey threw his head back, and spat, a blood-red mist of spit, blood, and god knows what else in a huge mushroom in the air, slowly raining down and staining Horrey's shoulders a shiny, dark red. Mounting Bane, Horrey began to throw elbows and punches, Bane unable to do anything but cover up, trying to escape this onslaught of blows. It was like a scene out of a brutal fight movie, like Horrey wanted to destroy something beautiful, and first and foremost on the list was Thomas Bane!]

[Well, technically, this could count as a submission. So, with Bane under assault, Paige had to do something, and quick. As Horrey lashed out, Paige reached over, grabbing up one of Horrey's fists in mid-punch. Spinning Horrey around, Paige leapt into the air, legs snapping around Horrey's neck and shoulder! That already-wounded shoulder hooked for the Triangle Choke, Paige hung, upside down, Horrey's throat cinched for that choke!]

Sanchez: “Horrey's GOT to know how quick he has to escape that!”

Jackson: “He grabbed his hand, and he's lifting Paige!”

Sanchez: “What's Horrey going for?!”

[A powerbomb.]

[With Paige dropped near-directly on his head, Horrey almost choked out, and Bane punch-drunk, the three men laid there, sucking in great gasps of breath, the blood slowly trickling from the foreheads of Paige and Horrey. So, unsurprisingly, the first man to his feet was Thomas Bane. Rising like a storm cloud, Bane loomed over the other two. The first to stir being Horrey, Bane helped Horrey up, and booted the black man in the stomach. Doubling Horrey over, Bane hooked the head... and ducked down, hooking the leg. Bane began to try and lift Horrey, wanting that Kapu...]

Sanchez: “Bane's going for his cradle DDT! The Kapu!”

Jackson: “If he hits that, with Paige down, this's got to be over!”

[But Horrey would not get lifted... yet. He broke the leg free, and rushed forward, shoving Bane into the turnbuckle! With a shoulder rush, Horrey slammed Bane's back into the steel, blasting the wind out of Bane. Straightening, Horrey began to punch Bane, elbow Bane, headbutt Bane, all sorts of things, before he took a quick breath, trying to gather himself.]

[Bane took that fraction of a second, and grabbed Horrey's shoulders. Spinning the other around, Bane fired a European uppercut, staggering Horrey, and began to lift The Man to the top rope. With Horrey seated, Bane climbed slowly up, to stand with Horrey, hooking the head slowly...]

[And Paige outta nowhere! Climbing to the top, forearms to the back of Bane, Paige staggered the champ long enough that Bane had to divert his attention, and fire one... two... three elbows into Paige's face! Irish Fire flew off the top, and caught his chest across the top rope, dropping to the mat heavily! Bane fired off a forearm to Horrey's back... then, lifted The Man up...]

[And both came crashing to the mat with a thunderous superplex! Horrey had been trying to reverse it into a cross body block, and just ended up mashing his already-weak shoulder into the mat, Bane catching a top rope knee to the stomach! With Horrey pressing his face into the mat, trying to fight through the pain, Bane forced himself slowly, slowly upwards. The 20+ minutes of fighting had taken their toll on him, and as Bane stood, pulling a thumb across his throat to indicate the end, my friend...]

[Low. Blow.]

Sanchez: “PAIGE! PAIGE WITH THE LOW BLOW!”

Jackson: “HE WAS LYIN' DOWN ON THE JOB!”

[Paige... had been playing possum. Having pretended to take more damage than most the entire match, more than he usually took, he had solidified himself in the other two's minds as less important... so Bane and Horrey could bash each other to their heart's content. And now, with his forearm hammered Bane's testicles into his pelvic cavity, Bane's eyes squeezed shut, knees together, a single tear rolling down his cheek, fingers splayed, Thomas Bane was a picture of agony.]

[Paige just laid down, and rolled Bane leisurely back, leaning almost all the way over him, for a schoolboy, laying all his weight on Bane, forcing the champ's shoulders down. The referee slid in, and after such testicular torture, who wouldn't forgive three seconds of weakness?]

[One...]

Sanchez: “Is it gonna be like this?!”

[Two...]

Jackson: “Ha ha! I can't think of a less exciting way for a champion to be crowned... EVER!”

[Drama.]

[Wait for it.]

[Wait for it.]

[Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaait...]

[Three.]

[Cue garbage-throwing.]

[Paige slowly rose, as the bell rang furiously, the referee reluctantly standing, grabbing Paige's hand, and lifting it into the air. Eyes unfocused, Paige stared up into the rafters, as a paper cup full of Coke and ice whizzed past his head.]

“YOUR WINNER... AND...”

[The timekeeper handed over the World Championship. The referee took it, and walked it slowly over to Paige.]

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW... WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION...”

[Bane's eyes were squeezed shut, legs kicking, as he pressed the side of his face into the mat. Wracked with pain, Horrey tried to claw his way to the only two men standing, and grab onto Paige's boots, but Paige just took the World Wrestling Alliance's World Heavyweight Championship, threw it over his shoulder, and headed for the ring ropes.]

“DAVID... PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIGE!”

[Paige climbed out of the ring, as “Thrown Away”, by VAST hit. Dropping to the floor, he held the shiny, golden belt before him, staring at it, looking over every metal curve, even the nameplate, where “THOMAS BANE” had been carved, to show the... former... holder of the World Title's name. Hugging the title close to his chest, Paige ignored the fans trying to grab at him, ignored the ones shouting about the Wrestling Republic Emerald Isle Championship and his Irish Fire t-shirt...]

[Bathed in boos, David Paige, your new World Heavyweight Champion, walked backstage, silently, holding the title to him like one would cradle a baby.]

Sanchez: I can't believe that just ended like that.

Jackson: Me neither. Man, what happened to David Paige that he would resort to that?

Sanchez: Couldn't tell you Mario, but for now, we have a Final's match to get to.

Jackson: Tonight six men have the chance to go on and face the WWA World heavyweight champion. These six men have been in a war tonight and this could be anyone’s game.

Sanchez: I agree. Jeff Andrews is one of the top wrestlers in the alliance. He could carry the alliance on his back for years to come if given the chance.

Jackson: He also happens to be the first wrestler coming out.

Isaac Davenport: Introducing first the survivor from the OLW versus OCW match. He weighs an impressive two hundred fifty six pounds. He is Jeff ANDREWS!

[Heel pop]

Sanchez: I’d put money on Andrews pulling it out with the win here tonight.

Jackson: I don’t know we have the Adrien Cochrane and Josh Styles coming out next.

Sanchez: Styles is a joke. He has no chance of winning this match if it wasn’t for Adrien I don’t think he would have made it this far.

Jackson: You smokin’ crack?

Isaac Davenport: Next we have the two survivors from the NWA versus the WWA match. For the WWA…

[Huge crowd pop.]

Isaac Davenport: Adrien COCHRANE…

[Another huge pop.]

Isaac Davenport: And Josh STYLES!

[Huge heel heat.]

Sanchez: The crowd agrees with me.

Jackson: You’re daft girl.

Sanchez: Anyway you have to give credit to Calib Wallace, he and his team really took it to team HRW.

Jackson: Without a doubt.

Isaac Davenport: Next we have the survivor of the AWA versus HRW match. Weighing in tonight at two hundred thirty pounds; Calib WALLACE!

[More heel pop.]

Sanchez: More proof that Adrien is the number one guy in the match.

Jackson: Doesn’t matter 'cause the dream team is next.

Isaac Davenport: Our next two competitors are the survivors of the WR versus WCWA…

[Huge hometown pop]

Isaac Davenport: Dan EASTON and Mike SLOAN!

[Both men get the hometown pop.]

Jackson: This is it. The pinnacle…get off me! Get off me!

Sanchez: Why Mario fights off the crowd I finish what he’s sayin’; this is the pinnacle of wrestling here tonight. No other match has as much emotion and importance as tonight. This is it folks this is Summer Games.

[Ding. Ding. Ding.]

[All six men stare at each other as the get ready. Adrien slaps Styles arm and says something to him. Everyone in the ring looks at him oddly.]

Jackson: Did he say pinch me?

Sanchez: I think so?

[Styles looks like he’s going to pinch Adrien but instead clocks him with a forearm. With that all hell breaks loose. Easton and Sloan go after Andrews while Wallace makes himself small and tries to avoid the melee.]

Jackson: Styles with a snapmare on Adrien and a huge kick to the spine.

Sanchez: It’s not fair! Easton and Sloan are each punching Andrews.

Jackson: Fair? It’s wrestling!

[Easton and Sloan whip Andrews into the ropes and he comes back and drops both of them with a double clothesline. Styles pulls Adrien up and tosses him into the corner and starts trying to force him over the ropes. Wallace comes in and joins in.]

Sanchez: Wallace and Style teaming up on the Adrien! That’s wrong?

[Adrien is almost over the top and Styles leans over and Wallace goes for his leg and tries to force him over. At the same time Andrews starts laying boots into Easton as Sloan rolls away.]

Jackson: Wallace is going after Styles? It must have been a ruse to get Styles off his feet. I’ll have to watch my back around that dawg.

Sanchez: Adrien slips away as Styles lands on the apron!

[Adrien tries to get his breath as Sloan gets to his feet. Andrews pulls Easton up and rams his knee into the jaw of Easton sending him hard into the mat.]

Jackson: Wallace is grabbing the head of Styles looks like he wants to drop Josh’s throat across the ropes!

Sanchez: No Styles counters with a forearm and sends Wallace reeling back!

[Andrews gets suplexed from behind by Sloan. The huge backdrop caused the crowd to pop.]

Sanchez: Yeah what a move from WCWA!

Jackson: Adrien charges Styles on the ropes!

Sanchez: No Adrien!

[The crowd gasp as Styles pulls the ropes down but Adrien stops a few feet short of the ropes. He motions to his head.]

Sanchez: Adrien is a thinking … No!

Jackson: Springboard cross body block from Styles! Josh is no longer in danger!

[Easton gets to his feet as Sloan pulls Andrews up. Sloan goes for a vertical suplex but Andrews blocks.]

Jackson: Styles is catching a breather!

[Easton comes over to help Sloan. The two men go for a vertical but Andrews blocks. Wallace and Cochrane look at each other and nod.]

Sanchez: Why did Wallace and Adrien nod?

Jackson: They both may have come to this match through different teams but they are both AWA wrestlers!

[Easton and Sloan finally get Andrews up and over. As both men sit up they are met with dropkicks from Wallace and Cochrane!]

Jackson: It’s a car wreck!

[The crowd is going wild.]

Sanchez: What the hell?

Jackson: That was off the hizzook!

Sanchez: What was that?

Jackson: Double suplex from Easton and Sloan on Andrews but Cochrane and Wallace planted them with seated dropkicks afterwards!

Sanchez: All I heard was Wow!

[The crowd applauds. Adrien goes to the top rope and starts celebrating.]

Jackson: Wallace turns and gets planted with a huge DDT from Styles!

Sanchez: I think Adrien is letting it get to him.

[Adrien drops off the top rope as Styles gets to his feet.]

Sanchez: Styles is stalking Adrien!

[Adrien turns as Styles runs and goes for a rana.]

Jackson: Twisting Rana! He is trying to flip Cochrane over the ropes and to the outside!

Sanchez: Adrien holds on!

[Adrien is holding on for dear life as Style tries to flip him over. Andrews starts getting to his feet shaking some cobwebs off.]

Jackson: Adrien pulls Styles up and looks like he’s using all his strength to try and power bomb Styles to the outside!

Sanchez: Go home boy!

[Adrien steps on the bottom rope for momentum as Andrews charges to send both men over. Styles slips over Adrien and behind Andrews as Andrews rams into Adrien who is half way over the ropes.]

[The crowd goes quiet.]

Jackson: Styles leaps off of Adrien and over Andrews!

[Adrien can’t stop himself from going over and hits the floor.]

Sanchez: No!

[The crowd is silent as Andrews holds his hands high. Styles goes for cover as Easton and Sloan get to their feet.]

Isaac Davenport: Adrien Cochrane has been eliminated by Jeff Andrews.

Jackson: Jeffy Andrews with the first elimination.

Sanchez: He don’t want to be called Jeffy.

Jackson: Sue me.

[Easton blindsides Andrews as Wallace stirs. Sloan goes over to help Easton and both me toss Andrews into the corner and start nailing him with punches.]

Jackson: Jeffy’ getting’ brutalized!

[Styles and Wallace meet eyes from across the ring and both catch their breath and watch what’s happening.]

Sanchez: Andrews falls to the mat. Great defensive mind. It’s hard to get tossed over if you’re on the mat.

Jackson: You think of that yourself?

[Sloan motions for Easton to pick up Andrews and they whip him into the ropes and nail him with a double clothesline.]

Jackson: Styles and Wallace are staying away from each other and the action. Good wait and see tactic.

Sanchez: Sloan and Easton are on their feet.

[Sloan eyes Wallace up as Andrews rolls away and Easton goes after Styles.]

Jackson: Team WCWA splits up right now.

[Sloan locks up with Wallace who tries to slip out. Sloan gets an arm and collar tie up and takes Calib over with a suplex. Wallace hits the mat hard. Easton lands a left hand on Styles and he backs into the corner. Easton goes to Irish whip Styles but Styles reverses and sends Easton into the opposite corner. Styles follows up with a huge dropkick in the corner.]

Sanchez: Ouch!

[Sloan gets up and sees Styles stomping on Easton and as he goes after him he is greeted with a clothesline.]

Jackson: Payback is a bizitch!

[Styles clamps on an arm bar to slow things down as Wallace starts to get to his feet. Andrews mounts Sloan and starts laying the punches in on him.]

Sanchez: He’s beating him like a Pimp beats his ho!

Jackson: You would know, ho!

[Wallace gets to his feet and surveys the scene.]

Jackson: Damn I never seen a beatin’ like that!

Sanchez: Andrews pulls Sloan up and gets chopped blocked from behind by Wallace.

[Wallace grabs Andrew from behind and drills him into the mat with a reverse DDT.]

Jackson: Jeffy went down hard!

[Sloan regains his composure and goes after Styles who releases Easton when he sees Mike coming.]

Sanchez: Styles trying to get out of the way of Sloan early on.

Jackson: Sloan stops and helps Easton up Team WCWA is working like a well-oiled machine.

[Styles backs off the tandem of Easton and Sloan as Wallace come up from behind and dropkicks Sloan down. Style charges Easton but is greeted by a huge over head belly to belly suplex.]

Jackson: What a suplex!

[The crowd goes nuts for the hometown guy.]

Sanchez: It looked like Easton could have thrown him out of the ring.

Jackson: He’s not that strong!

[Andrews is up and he takes Easton down with a double leg trip and starts raining the punches down on Dan.]

Jackson: He’s clubberin’ him!

Sanchez: Sloan is fighting back and getting to his feet!

Jackson: Jeffy is pulling Easton up and dragging him to the ropes.

Sanchez: Andrews is a beast in the ring.

[Styles catches his breath as Sloan slams Wallace into the corner and starts laying the boots into him.]

Jackson: Jeffy is trying to force Easton over the top!

[Easton! Easton! Easton!]

Sanchez: The crowd is getting behind the hometown wrestler as he tries to fight back!

Jackson: Elbow Smash from Easton sends Andrews reeling back!

Sanchez: Easton grabs Andrews by the head he’s trying to shove him over!

[NO!]

Jackson: Bizock!

Sanchez: Andrews block and punches him!

Jackson: Jeffy tries to toss the Sherm head over but he ain’t goin’!

[Styles and Sloan are double teaming Wallace in the corner.]

Sanchez: He’s got him on the top rope!

Jackson: Jeffy got Easton almost over! He needs more leverage!

[Sloan glances over and sees Easton in trouble!]

Sanchez: This could be it for Dan!

[Easton! Easton!]

Jackson: Jeffy almost got him!

[Sloan charges over.]

Sanchez: I think Easton is over!

[Sloan grabs Andrews by the legs and tosses him over as he’s off balance.]

Jackson: Jeffy’s goin hizome!

Isaac Davenport: Dan Easton is eliminated by Jeff Andrews!

[The crowd boos.]

Isaac Davenport: Jeff Andrews is eliminated by Mike Sloan!

[The crowd gives the home town pop.]

Sanchez: Wow!

[Mike Sloan! Mike Sloan!]

Jackson: It’s down to Mike Sloan, Josh Styles and Calib Wallace!

Sanchez: Mike Sloan is a monster; he’s been trying for years to achieve this dream.

Jackson: Styles backs off Wallace and eyes Sloan up.

Sanchez: Styles and Sloan are eyeing each other up and catching a breath after this fast paced action.

[The three man stare at each other and Calib nods towards Styles who returns the nod.]

Jackson: Are Styles and Wallace going to team up?

Sanchez: That’s just wrong.

[Wallace starts to move in for Sloan as Styles backs off. Calib turns his head to see why Styles isn’t following and gets clubbed by Sloan.]

Jackson: Huge Axe handle smash!

Sanchez: That’s gonna leave a mark!

[Sloan follows up with a series of elbow strikes followed by a huge headbutt.]

Jackson: Talk about a meeting of minds!

Sanchez: Wallace looks out of it!

[Sloan cinches Wallace up and snaps him over.]

Jackson: What a snap suplex!

[CRACK! BOO!]

Sanchez: That is gonna leave a mark!

Jackson: Sloan got to his feet and was greeted by a huge superkick from Josh Styles.

[Styles sucks! Styles sucks!]

Sanchez: The crowd is getting on Styles case.

Jackson: Josh Styles seems unphased.

[Styles pulls Wallace up and runs his finger across his throat.]

Jackson: The age all signal for it’s done!

[Styles goes for the Lincoln Park Execution.]

Jackson: Wallace slipped out!

Sanchez: But Styles landed on his ass!

[Sloan starts getting to his feet as Wallace nails the sitting Styles with a Shinning Wizard!]

Jackson: Wallace hits the SHINNING WIZARD!

Sanchez: That would end any other match!

Jackson: Not this match! He has to toss Styles over the top!

[Wallace goes to grab Styles but gets nailed with a huge lariat from Sloan.]

Jackson: LARIAT!

Sanchez: Wallace nearly flipped 360!

[Sloan! Sloan! Sloan!]

Jackson: The crowd loved that!

[Sloan starts pulling Wallace up and sets him up for a powerbomb. Styles rolls towards a corner.]

Jackson: Sloan looks to be going for a crucifix powerbomb!

Sanchez: That will be the quick way for Calib to exit the ring!

[Boo!]

Sanchez: Wallace slips off! He saved his ass!

[Sloan turns and Wallace goes for a tornado DDT.]

Jackson: Tornado DD…. No!

[Sloan counters and twist Wallace around for an overhead belly to belly.]

Jackson: Sloan tosses Wallace over head!

[Crowd pop.]

Sanchez: Wallace landed on his feet!

[Styles start to recover over in the corner.]

Sanchez: Kick to the midsection from Wallace!

Jackson: he’s going for the BUZZSAW!

[Calib goes for the Osaka Street Cutter but Sloan blocks.]

Sanchez: Mike blocks!

Jackson: Mike is going for a vertical… no! He twist Wallace and has him in a fireman’s carry.

[Sloan has Wallace up in an inverted fireman’s carry.]

Sanchez: They’re close to the ropes.

Jackson: Sloan with a…

[HUGE CROWD POP!]

Jackson: Oh Lordy! Oh my God!

Sanchez: he killed him! He killed him!

[The crowd goes wild!]

Jackson: It was a modified burning hammer!

Sanchez: Blade isn’t moving!

Isaac Davenport: Calib Wallace has been eliminated by Mike Sloan!

[Style sis finally on his feet.]

Jackson: Sloan hit Wallace with a modified scorned to the outside.

[Sloan looks smug as he looks down at Wallace.]

Sanchez: Styles is going after Sloan!

[Sloan gets dropkicked from behind and almost goes over the top.]

Jackson: That was close!

[Eye gouge from Styles is followed up with a snapmare.]

Sanchez: Sloan is on the mat.

[Styles runs into the ropes and comes back and plants his boots into the face of Sloan!]

Jackson: Styles has caught a second wind!

Sanchez: it can’t be enough! Sloan is destined to win this match!

Jackson: I don’t know. Styles has fought tooth and nail to make it here tonight. No one can deny his passion.

[Styles pulls Sloan up who starts to fight back. He lands a huge punch that staggers Styles near the ropes.]

Sanchez: Sloan looking for momentum to send Styles over!

Jackson: Sloan counters the charge with a drop toe hold! Sloan’s throat just got dropped across ropes!

[Sloan staggers back a little as Styles quickly gets to his feet.]

Sanchez: Styles is up!

[Crowd pop!]

Jackson: Enziguri to the back of Sloan’s head! The momentum in sending him over!

[Sloan falls over the ropes but holds on.]

Sanchez: He’s holding on!

[Sloan pulls himself through the ropes to a huge pop.]

Jackson: He barely saved himself there!

[Styles plants a foot to the head of Sloan before pulling him up.]

Sanchez: Styles takes a step back…

Jackson: And Sloan ducks the roundhouse kick!

[Sloan grabs Styles from behind and goes to back drop him over the ropes.]

Jackson: Back drop over the…

Sanchez: No!

[Styles catches himself as Sloan walks to the center of the ring with his arms up.]

Jackson: Mike is celebrating too soon here!

[Styles slides into the ring as Sloan looks around and sees him still alive.]

Sanchez: That was a close call for Josh Styles.

[Styles plants a dropkick on Sloan that sends him reeling back into the ropes.]

Sanchez: Sloan is on the ropes!

[Styles gets up and goes after Sloan but gets greeted with a knee lift.]

Jackson: Sloan playing possum!

[Sloan grabs Styles and is looking for a powerbomb!]

Sanchez: This could be it! Sloan will have his destiny fulfilled!

Jackson: He’s going to toss Styles over the ropes!

[The crowd goes quietly as Styles lands a few punches to Sloan!]

Sanchez: He’s fighting back!

[The crowd goes silent as a rana sends both men over the top!]

Jackson: Oh my! The both toppled over!

Sanchez: Who hit first!

Jackson: Sloan hit first! Sloan hit first!

Sanchez: Are you sure!

Jackson: Styles Hurricanrana saved him this time! He sent them both over but Sloan hit first!

Sanchez: It can’t be!

Isaac Davenport: Mike Sloan has been eliminated! The winner of this match, and the Summer Games Eight Champion, Josh Styles!

[The crowd erupts into boos!]

Jackson: He did it.

[Styles starts sobbing in joy. Manly sobbing that is.]

Jackson: Is he crying?

Sanchez: He just achieved a dream! It’s ok! It’s kinda cute!

Jackson: Cute? Men aren't cute! Men are macho! We drink only the hardest liquor, and we do it straight from the bottle!

Sanchez: No, that's just you.

Jackson: Yeah, you're probably right.

Sanchez: At any rate, this has been a spectacular night filled with more twists, turns, and changes then one could have even predicted!

Jackson: You're right there, Sylvia. This one is destined to be one of the most memorable Summer Games in the history of the alliance!

Sanchez: I'm Sylvia Sanchez...

Jackson: And I'm Mario Jackson...

Sanchez: Stay crunk!

Credits:
OCW Tag Team Title Match: Timothy Young
Team OLW vs. Team OCW: Jeff Andrews
Control of the WWA Match: Matthew Shearer and Corey Harding
WWA World Tag Team Title Match: Paul
WWA World Heavyweight Title Match: Kevin Cavallaro
Summer Games Final: Jeff Fox
All summarized matches, coding, organizing, and proofreading: Matthew Shearer
All segments authored by their respective handlers.