Welcome To The Show
Adrien Cochrane

"Okay, guys. Bring over this way!"

[Adrien walks into the lobby of the backstage area with three delivery guys who are together holding a box bigger than all of the participants in the WWA Tag Title match later in the night.]

Guy 1: Ok, Mr. Cochrane…where do you want it?

[Adrien stands there, scratching his chin.]

Adrien: How about over there?

[The guys, straining to keep it up walk over to the area Adrien was pointing at. After they slowly get there, Adrien shakes his head.]

Adrien: No, no, no…That's not going to work. How about over there?

[Adrien points to the other side of the room, as the guys struggle to get the box over there. After they finally get there, Adrien shakes his head.]

Adrien: No, I don't like it there. How about over there?

Guy 3: That's where you told us to put it the first time!

Adrien: Oh then in that case…

[A man wearing a WfWA staff shirt approaches Adrien. He has a cameraman with him.]

Man: Adrien Cochrane!

Adrien: Jeff! Hey!

[The three guys sigh in exhaustion and aggravation.]

Jeff: Can we get a quick interview? You're going to be the first segment of the show!

Adrien: Aw, sweet! Sure, let's get this started.

Jeff: We already have.

[Adrien smiles in embarrassment.]

Adrien: Okay then!

Jeff: First of all, what is in that huge box you are torturing those delivery guys with?

Adrien: That, I cannot tell you. That is between me, Dean, and Victor Mandrake.

Jeff: Victor Mandrake? You mean because you had to get his permission for this crazy Live Wire game you are setting up this time?

Adrien: Actually, he is, more or less, involved in this "crazy Live Wire game". You'll see…

[Jeff looks over at Adrien with some confusion on his face.]

Jeff: What are your thoughts about your upcoming match?

Adrien: Well, it becomes yet another game…which guy is going to eliminate me? Should be fun! I have my money on Serbo, but Dean thinks it will be Noah Hanson.

Jeff: Umm…okay. Well, is there anything else you'd like to say?

[Adrien scratches his chin for a minute.]

Adrien: …WELCOME TO WWA CROWN OF WAR!!

Finally Free
Faces of Death

[The Faces of Death have had quite a few months. While they have been holding the AWA Tag Team Championships for a while, they didn't truly become a force to be reckoned with until just recently. What changed?]

[Gooooooold.]

[AWA, GEC, OLW, and this title shot tonight. Possibly quadruple champions. Sending their top dog into the Crown of War.]

[But most importantly, Serbo and his troops had had quite a week. Finally, finally, they were among the sane once more. Wrestlers.]

[Holy shit that's so sad.]

[The Escalade and the Ferrari, dinged up, dented, scratched with road grit, and generally in "I don't care how my car looks" state of repair both pulled into the parking lot, in the special area set aside for the wrestlers. The two vehicles shut off, and out of the vehicles stepped the foursome, along with the two girls.]

[Serbo. Kengoro. Nicky. Splenda. May. Addie. Even a small cat carrier, with the feline of mass destruction inside. All were in exercise clothes, the kind of running pants with snaps up the side and AWA t-shirts, and Splenda wore a fancy Nike do-rag. They had apparently been warming up in a gym in N'York.]

[The entryway had been manned by a cameraman and one of HRW's two official interviewers. At the moment, Mark Hazen had been stationed in the wrestler entrance, to get the thoughts of the people showing up. The one-armed interviewer/announcer/play-by-play man smiled pleasantly, and stepped over to the lot.]

Splenda: "Oh, ballin'. Here we go already."

Hazen: "Hello, gentlemen. On behalf of HRW, welcome to Madison Square Garden. It's nice to see you again, Sergeiev."

[Serbo grunted, remembering the days when he wrestled for HRW as the masked hitman, ACE, to make a little scratch, and get back into the proper wrestling mindset. He had been freelancing, and not as a wrestler, after theSTAGE crumbled.]

Hazen: "Do you wish to say anything to the camera?"

[Splenda looked to his charges, shrugged, and grabbed the mike away from Mark.]

Splenda: "In th' words o' a ver' famous man who had his day recently... OH, LAWD, WE'S FREE AT LAS'!"

[Serbo glanced to Kengoro, who just shrugged, giving Serbo one of those looks.]

Splenda: "Over th' las' week, boy, we had some crazy shit happen."

Hazen: "I saw that... You got kidnapped or something?"

[Nicky glanced to Splenda, signaling for Splenda to cut off there, so Splenda shrugged.]

Splenda: "Dat wuz crazy. Dat's all I'm sayin'. We fought, we won. We got here... An' we ain't gon' let us lose."

Hazen: "You're that confident? The Conspiracy have held those titles for a year. They've got great wrestlers in every role, and their manager, a wrestler himself, is a brilliant tactician. What's your strategy?"

Splenda: "Well..."

[Splenda scratched his head a bit, lifting his Nike do-rag.]

Splenda: "Kengoro's gon' use his Japanese Ninja powers..."

[He nodded, glancing to the Oni, who put his hands on his hips, irritated.]

Splenda: "Nicky's gon' summon forth Pastahulhu, who gon' eat one o' those suckas..."

[Splenda grinned, glancing to Nicky, who just glared at his manager. Splenda gave a thumbs up.]

Splenda: "An' I'm gon' get a bas'etball, and slam-dunk on Connors. Then, we win."

[Kengoro just sighed, and put a hand on the back of Splenda's head, pretty much bodily dragging Splenda into the arena. Serbo followed, May and Addie sweeping past, with Cat meowing from the cat carrier that Serbo carried. Nicky smirked, and shrugged a bit.]

Nicky: "We have a real plan. But you'll have to wait to the match to see it. Nice shirt, by the way. It's nice to be here in New York, and thank you for the warm reception. Now, it's cold as hell out here. I'm going inside."

[And with that, Nicky Corozzo, Il Guidice, swept by, his massive duffel bag in tow, clinking with metallic noises inside. It seemed that Nicky was carrying all of the FoD's title belts with them...]

[Mark Hazen blinked, and glanced to the camera.]

Hazen: "Back to you guys inside."

Paige's Heroes: I
"Irish Fire" David Paige

An A-Team style van pulls into the arena, and out of the back come the World Heavyweight Champion, David Paige, and his assault squad, Team Paige.

Paige: "Alright boys, we got the contract, let's go to the locker room and figure out how to break The World Heavyweight Title Curse."

DUNN DUNNN DUNNNNNNNNNNN

Paige: "Ok hold on. World Heavyweight Title Curse."

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN

Paige: "Awesome."

Pete: "Can I try it?"

Paige: "Knock yourself out."

Pete: "The World Heavyweight Title Curse."

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

Roger: "Wow."

Paige: "Hey, check this out… THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE CU…"

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN

Paige: "Ah! I didn't finish it."

Milhouse: "Boss, I don't think it's a good idea to taunt the mysterious music."

Paige: "Oh what could happen?"

Pete: "I dunno boss… it just seems… disrespectful."

Paige: "Oh boo hoo. WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE CURSE."

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

Paige: "WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE CURSE."

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN

Paige: "WORLD HEAVYW…."

Suddenly, the entire earth shakes.

Milhouse: "Oh crap…"

Pete: "Why didn't you listen?"

Suddenly, a lightening bolt strikes from the ceiling and blows up Roger.

Milhouse: "HOLY SHIT!"

Pete: "Uhhhh… Roger?"

Paige: "uhhhhhh… let's run now."

In unison, the three remaining members of Team Paige take off backstage.

The Letter
Victor Mandrake and ???

[Sitting behind his desk, his elbows planted on it, his chin resting on balled fists, Victor Mandrake seems lost in the paperwork before him. Behind him, adorning the walls, are various framed photographs of his days as a combatant inside the ring. His World championship matches, his bloody feuds with Eric Dane, Ryan Corey, Whirlybirdz VHS, et al, all aligned on the wall, like a slide-show of his ruthless career.]

[But his days inside that ring are behind him, save an occasional grudge or score that needs settling. Now the weight of leadership is upon his massive shoulders, the weight of running an organization filled with egos, men and women who sometimes forget that there is a line between fantasy and reality.]

[As he pours over a fascinating balance sheet, detailing the expenditures of the various regions under his watchful gaze, he's shaken from his concentration by a soft, almost reluctant sounding knock at the door. Glancing up, he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.]

Mandrake: What is it?

[A muffled voice is heard, sheepish, almost whispering, as though the speaker is treading lightly, afraid to awake a slumbering beast from its winter hibernation. In many ways, it's understandable, given the person whom he's speaking to.]

Messenger: Mister Mandrake, there's an envelope here for you.

[He arches an eyebrow.]

Mandrake: Envelope? From whom?

[Again, the response is barely a whisper, causing him to strain just to hear the response.]

Messenger: It doesn't say, sir. It was just left at the front office with nothing written on it aside from your name.

[Frowning, he pushes his chair back from his desk, the paperwork completely forgotten for the moment. He stands and makes his way to the door. Opening it, he glances down to see a skinny kid, probably not even in his twenties, clutching a white envelope in his tiny fingers. The kid's eyes go wide as he sees what must look like a mountain appear before him. Mandrake ignores his reaction, holding his hand out.]

Mandrake: Give it to me.

Messenger: Yes, s..sir.

[The messenger hands him the envelope with a shaky arm, like a feeder might hold out a piece of meat to a lion. And just as quickly, he pulls his arm back from Mandrake, as though he expects him to take a bite out of it. Again, Mandrake ignores the slightly amusing reaction, his focus entirely on the envelope in his hand. He shuts the door on the messenger's face without acknowledgment, and returns to his desk, sitting heavily in his chair.]

[Reaching for his letter opener, which just happens to be in the shape of a miniaturized claymore, Mandrake tears open the top end of the envelope, and shakes it to let the contents fall out. Inside is a folded up piece of paper. He peers inside the open envelope to see if anything else is within, but sees nothing. Discarding the envelope, he unfolds the piece of paper, and begins reading its contents.]

"Victor, it's been a while. I'll keep this short and sweet, because I'm sure you're a busy man, running an entire Alliance and all! But we've got unfinished business. So let's finish it. Meet me in the parking lot by your limousine."

[He flips the paper over, frowning. There isn't a signature or any indication from whom it might be from. Mandrake stares at the paper for a few moments, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mind trying to figure out who might have sent it.]

Mandrake: Dane? Too indirect. Corey? Doubtful as well.

[He is a busy man, but curiosity gets the better of him. He gets up from his desk, determined to get to the bottom of this mysterious letter. He grabs a metal suitcase, taking the opportunity to run a few errands of his own.]

Figuring Out The Clue: I
Francis Hamilton

[Backstage at Crown of War. Things are different then they are in Rome. Here they have better food, more reporters, not to mention it's Madison Square Garden. Felicity, Mickey and Catalyst are sitting in the catering room, pouring over pages of documents. In the middle of the table sits a snow globe.]

Francis: Okay I'm ready to give up.

[He throws his hands in the air frustrated as Felicity rolls her eyes.]

Mickey: Yeah all I've read so far is George Washington had wooden teeth…I didn't even know that was possible.

Felicity: Guys there could be something really great at the end of this. We need to try.

Francis: It's not worth it. I mean I'm getting too distracted with all of this.

Mickey: Yeah, and that's the last thing we want. This is his chance to make an impact here and your going to blow it.

[Felicity shakes her head and continues reading, paying no mind to Mickey or Catalyst.]

Mickey: Let's get out of here; go straight to stretch or something.

Francis: Yeah let's go.

[As Mickey stands he knocks the snow globe, accidentally off the table. Felicity dives for it.]

[Too little, too late.]

[The snow globe smashes all over the floor.]

Felicity: Are you fucking serious! Why did you do that?

Mickey: Do what?

Francis: You knocked the snow globe over dude.

Mickey: Did I?

Felicity: Yeah you asshole.

Mickey: Good maybe you won't be so obsessed with it now!

[Felicity looks crushed. Mickey is smiling. Catalyst shakes his head. That's when he spots it, a small vial sitting amongst the debris from the globe. He picks it up.]

Francis: What the hell is this?

Felicity: It looks like a vial.

Mickey: Oh here we go again…what about the match?

Francis: No time for that, we've got a vial.

[To be continued later….]

The Plot
The Conspiracy

[Let's head backstage, where something is happening.]

Mark Hazen: The word has been buzzing all week that Wyatt Connors, manager of the World Tag Team Champions, the Conspiracy, has a major announcement for tonight! We'll try to get a word with him as soon as the Conspiracy arrive--and here they are!

[Here they are indeed. Here come the Conspiracy, storming down the hall and toward our intrepid Hazen person. The World Tag Team Champions, "The Judge" Deacon Dale and "Rotten" T.J. Ratigan, flank their manager and mastermind, "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors. The champs have the titles draped over their shoulders, and Connors They look focused. Ready. In control.]

[It's a good act.]

Hazen: Wyatt Connors! Excuse me, Wyatt Connors! The word has been going around that you have a major announcement to make later tonight! Any word on what that's about?

[The three men stop on a dime, but only Connors turns to look at the speaker. And when he does, he shakes his head in disappointment.

Connors: Seriously. When does this ever work? You hear that someone's got a major announcement for later in the show, and you come running to try and get the scoop. And how many times has someone said, "Oh, you look like a trustworthy person, I can tell you. I just hope the cameraman turns the sound off, or that everyone watching just puts their fingers in their ears!" None. It never happens. STOP IT.

Hazen: It's my job, Mr. Connors. You can't blame me for trying.

Connors: The hell I can't. I can blame you for the Kennedy Assassination if I feel like it. Now go and peddle your papers.

[But, being an intrepid Hazen person, Hazen instead presses a different issue.]

Hazen: Josh Styles said earlier this week that the Conspiracy's tag title reign was a joke. Any thoughts on that?

[He motions to Deacon and Trevor to continue toward their dressing room, but first he takes the title belts off of their shoulders. Then, as they walk away, Wyatt turns his full attention to Hazen. To his credit, he becomes only slightly uncomfortable.]

Connors: Well, they cut me to the quick. Because as you all know, I was put upon this earth to impress Josh fucking Styles. Look, That muscle headed retard can spout off all he likes. But I can guarantee you this--by this time tomorrow, I won't have to even think about Josh Styles ever again.

Hazen: What's that supposed to mean?

Connors: Oh, no. That would be telling. Anyway, I'm not really interested in anything you have to ask me. So I'll say this one last thing, and then I expect you to go about your business.

[He holds up the World Tag Team Titles, uncomfortably close to Hazen's face.]

Connors: These are the only things I'm concerned with right now. Clear?

[But he does not wait for a response, instead disappearing into the Conspiracy's dressing room.]

[Cut.]

WWA Double Crown Title Match
Eduardo Domingo (c) vs. Daeriq Damien

[The light sound of the opening of Gavin Rossdale's "Adrenaline" makes it's way through the PA.]

# You don't feel the pain #

[Eduardo Domingo makes his way out of the back to a very favorable reaction from the crowd, some of those cheers turn noticeably to boos once Freddy Phoenix comes out behind him. They stop in the entrance way as Freddy says something to Eduardo and points to the ring.]

Ring Announcer: Now making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Freddy Phoenix! He hails from Quemado, Texas and weighs in at 192 lbs. He is the reigning and defending Double Crown Champion… EDUAAAARDOOOOO DOOOMINGGGOOOOOOO!!!!

# Too much is not enough #
# Nobody said this stuff makes any sense #
# We're hooked again #
# Point of no return #
# See how the buildings burn #
# Light up the night #
# Such pretty sight #

[The two men begin their march to the ring. Freddy gesturing to the occasional fan along the way while Eduardo stays a couple of steps in front of his mentor, eyeing their final destination.]

# Adrenaline keeps me in the game #
# Adrenaline you don't even feel the pain #
# Wilder than your wildest dreams #
# When you're going to extremes #
# It takes adrenaline #

[Eduardo arrives ringside and rolls into the ring under the bottom rope. Phoenix opts to take the stairs.]

# You don't feel the pain #
# Sail through an empty night #
# It's only you and I who understand #
# There is no plan #

[The young Domingo hands the ref his title. He then ricochets from one side of the ring to another as he gets a feel for the squared circle. Freddy remains on the ring apron for a moment while he does this before entering.]

# Get closer to the thrill #
# Only time will kill #
# What's in your eyes #
# Is so alive #
# Adrenaline keeps me in the game #
# Adrenaline you don't even feel the pain #
# Wilder than your wildest dreams #
# When you're going to extremes #
# It takes adrenaline #

[Freddy gives his protégé a couple of last minute words of advice as the music fades.]

['Imperium' by Machine Head beats itself out to the crowd as they turn towards the arena's entrance to see who would be accompanying this song.]

["HEAR ME NOW"]

[Robb Flynn's voice forces through the drum and guitars announcing the emergence of OLW trios tag team, the Children of the Damned. Lead by Chesapeake and Mid-Atlantic title toting Daeriq Damien, Owsei and Aleksandra fall in close behind as they stop before making their way down to the ring. With a belt in each hand, Daeriq raises them high and moves from one side, yelling encouraging words to the crowd as they seem to do the same, to the other side where the fans are equally excited to be taking in the WWA PPV. All three make their way to the ring, each giving the fans along the ramp way down a good amount of interaction in hopes to hype them up even further. The crowd, as opposed to the last couple times away from home, is very receptive and has no problem showing it with an excellent amount of cheers and applause.]

[As Aleksandra heads to the left of the ring, continuing to slap hands and interact with the crowd, Daeriq approaches the middle of the ring's apron and, with a simple toss, slides both belts into the ring. Owsei Damien, after having some quick words with an attractive women standing ringside along the right of the aisle, heads in the opposite direction he was facing and joins his sister.]

[Both Aleks and Owsei, wearing their ring gear in the chance that they will need to insert themselves in the way of any one trying to disrupt the balance of the match, clap for their brother along with the PPV attendees. Daeriq grasps the second rope and hauls himself up to the ring's edge, only to enter the ring after a smile to the crowd and a moments wait. Retrieving both belts from the canvas, he walks over to his siblings and gives each a belt for 'safe keeping'. With various title thefts going on all around, they are safer than sitting with the ring crew.]

[Special referee HJD is in the ring and the match gets underway with neither man trusting HJD.]

[The first ten minutes of the match saw a back and forth struggle of the classic speed versus power styles. Both men getting the upper hand at one point and scoring near falls which HJD counted with fairness right down the middle, and showed a good understanding of the rules an how they applied. It was clear that Damien was focusing on the lower back of Eduardo, while Eduardo tried to work the Ali method of fighting, that being stick and move, or hit and run away before the bigger man got his hands on you.]

[Nearing the ten minute mark of the match, Eduardo catches Damien with a chop block that buckled the big man's knee and sent him crashing to the mat. Eduardo moved in like a vulture to road kill, quickly going to work on the injured knee of Damien as HJD stood back and watched.]

[Damien's knee faced a barrage of slams into the mat, knee drops, elbow shots and countless twists and pulls, for nearly three minutes before Eduardo twisted the big man legs into a leg grapevine. Jimmy Danger watched from a distance, not once checking for a submission or even acknowledging that the two ere still fighting.]

[This seemed to enrage Freddy Phoenix at ring side, who began yelling and cursing at HJD in the ring. HJD replied heard at ring side was "No one submits to that hold anyway." As he shrugged his shoulders and smiled to an attractive blonde in the front row.]

[As the match progressed Damien slowly tried to mount some sort of offence, but finally mounted a surge when he surprised Eduardo by countering his Maverick County Line, with a very stiff Powerslam out of mid-air. As Eduardo rolled over to get up Damien measured him with a heavy knee to the center of the back which caused Eduardo to scream out in obvious pain.]

[Damien seized the opportunity and focused his efforts on Eduardo lower back, after slamming him back first into the turnbuckles Damien locked on an abdominal stretch. HJD looked over for a minute then went back to relaxing on the ropes. With Eduardo still locked in the abdominal stretched Damien yelled at HJD, who turned his attention back, looked at Eduardo screaming in pain that replied to Damien with something about "no one taps to an abdominal stretch anymore". This gave Eduardo enough time to hip toss his way out of the move]

[Eduardo then seemed to get his second wind and really turned up the speed on Damien, who tried to counter back on several occasions but Eduardo speed over took him and regained the advantage before he could do too much damage with his strength. After countering Eduardo's Hurricanrana attempt with a Powerbomb, Damien looked like he would take the advantage as he went for a spear, but Eduardo leap frogged over him and quickly caught Damien with a super kick as he turned around. Eduardo went for the cover but HJD didn't even bother to count.]

[The lack of the count brought Eduardo to his feet to confront HJD about the situation, as an irate Freddy Phoenix climb to the apron of the ring to confront the special ref's botchery. As HJD shrugged his shoulders at Eduardo, Damien regained his feet, and surprised Eduardo with a F5 which the announcers told everyone was being called the Ender. As Damien covered for the three count, HJD once again ignored the actions, but took offence to Phoenix plea and sent him flying from the apron with a Dangerkick.]

[A frustrated Damien upset by the now lack of officiating, rose to his feet to confront Jimmy Danger, who tried to level Damien with the same superkick that Phoenix met fate with, but Damien sensed it coming and ducked under, and countered with PlexDriver on HJD.]

[With Jimmy Danger now out of it Eduardo and Damien began to exchange blows in the center of the ring both looking for the opportunity to take the upper hand. A groggy Freddy Phoenix regained his feet and began cheering on his man, as a new ref appeared at the entrance way and quickly made his way to the ring. Shortly after the new ref makes it to the ring, two men charge towards rings side, as the one stumbles hitting his head on the guardrail, it become apparent that the two men are HJD's lackeys, Tim Bonds and Param Vars, Vars being the one who just took himself out tripping over his own two feet.]

[Seeing Bonds rushing the ring, the ring veteran Freddy Phoenix turns his attention from the match to meet Bonds with a superkick that staggers him back, long enough for Phoenix to move in and quickly catch him in a tornado DDT planting Bonds head first into the cement floor.]

[The two continued their battle until Damien shot Eduardo into the corner, and more by instinct than skill, Eduardo jumped over the ropes and landing on the apron long enough to spring himself onto the top rope and off connecting with the Double Impact on Damien, and quickly covers for the three count and the win.]

[As Freddy Phoenix entered the ring and helped Eduardo Domingo to his feet, a somewhat disappointed Daeriq Damien, rose to his feet and offered his hand to Eduardo in a show of respect and sportsmanship. While a sore and dejected Jimmy Danger and crew escaped to the back.]

Getting Used To The Noise
CHIMERA

[The fans are still excited about the Double Crown match. Curtis Penn sits still, alone in a locker room, listening to the noise from the audience.]

"That could be me…"

[He raises his eyes so that they connect with the camera.]

"It will be me…"

[He smiles.]

"By the end of the night my name will ring through out this arena. They will all be chanting the name first Warlord, Curtis… Curtis…"

[Pause.]

"Curtis Penn. I was given this opportunity to blow all of your minds and that's exactly what this youngin' is gonna do. A month or so back, I told Christian Light that I was going to be the newest face in this sport, and he might as well get used to it."

[A small chuckle.]

"I got right into his face and told him that I was the best in that ring… Tonight, I'm still the greatest ya'll have never seen. By the end of this event you will all have seen me and then I will be the greatest that you've seen. By the end of the night…"

[Snort.]

"I'll be the all of the WWA's Champions worst nightmare, from the Tag Titles all the way to Brooks or Paige. And there is nothing… Not a damn thing they can do about it. Remember this face, each one of you will be seeing a lot of it in the next few months."

No Longer Held Back
Angel of Death

[HRW star Angel of Death stands backstage at Crown of War, his cell phone pressed to his ear. A smile crosses his face as he listens to the voicemail message at the other end of the line.]

AOD: "Hi! Finn! It's your favorite wrestler, Angel of Death! Yeah, I'm here at Crown of War, your big idea of public humili ... oh, you're there! I was leaving a message on your answering machine. Yes, I'm here, and yes, I've found my dressing room. I was calling to ... yes, I was going to talk about how you aren't going to hold me back any more ... Yes, I realize that you claim to not be holding me back ... Yes I realize that you feel that this is all in my head. Are you done? ... of course not ... Finn ... Finn ... Listen Finn!! ... Yes, I understand ... yes Finn, I know you want what's best for HRW ... Well, I know I'm one of the best that HRW's got. You didn't have to tell me that. What do you mean I don't always listen to what I'm told? ... Finn? FINN!!??!! The asshole hung up!!"

[He throws the cell phone across the room.]

AOD: "Finn McCullough, you better remember that I'm one of the best HRW's got. Because tonight, against all of those other men, I will step up and become the first ever WWA Warlord, and get myself a shot at the WWA World Heavyweight Title, bringing it, and the World Prestige Title back to HRW where they both belong. Whether you like it or not, McCullough."

[Fade.]

The Deal
The Conspiracy

[Cut.]

Connors: Heh. Mandrake is going to shit a brick when he hears about this.

[And we're going straight to the action. The champions, Dale and Ratigan, are nowhere to be seen--they're in the back, getting into their ring gear. That leaves "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors all by himself, with the World Tag Team Titles in one arm, and a manila folder in the other.]

[Nothing good can possibly come of this.]

[But of course, you can't have a major announcement in the locker rooms. There's a special area set up for press conferences and the like, and most of the WWA beat writers are already waiting down there. So, now that Connors has his effects gathered, he heads for the room. He opens it, only to find...] "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

[Victor Mandrake.]

Mandrake: Wyatt Connors.

Connors: Yes?

Mandrake: I would like to have a word with you.

Connors: Maybe later. I'm sure you're very busy, as am I. I have this announcement to make, and then--

Mandrake: NOW.

[Connors knows a great many things. The thing he knows that is applicable here is that he knows when not to press his luck. He stands aside, allowing Mandrake to enter the room. He looks as one would expect a malevolent dictator to look; a fine suit specifically tailored for his hulking frame, and a look that seems to say, "you are not worth the time it would take to destroy you." He always looks like that, even when he is actually destroying someone.]

[What is somewhat strange is the large metal briefcase he carries in his right hand.]

Mandrake: I will not allow you to go through with it.

Connors: I don't know what you're talking about.

Mandrake: Don't play dumb, Wyatt. It does not suit you.

[Connors smirks. The jig, as they say, is up. But there was still plenty of game left.]

Connors: How did you figure it out?

Mandrake: It wasn't difficult. A month ago, you were seen in the OLW offices, requesting a copy of your contract. Two weeks later, you came to the WWA offices and asked for the same thing. You called a press conference, scheduled right before the Conspiracy defended the titles. At that press conference, you requested that there be a podium, a microphone, a police escort, and a LARGE GARBAGE CAN.

Connors: Hmm. When you put it that way, it's a little obvious.

Mandrake: You were planning to walk out of the WWA, and throw the World Tag Team Titles in the trash as you left, thereby robbing the Faces of Death of a legitimate title match, and more importantly, ruining the credibility of the titles.

Connors: Yes. A little.

Mandrake: Now, I wonder if you can give me a reason why I shouldn't tell my lawyers to sue you out of existence.

Connors: Because you've got no grounds.

Mandrake: Is that so? Your OLW contract may have holes, but the one you signed for the WWA is iron-clad.

Connors: Really.

Mandrake: I personally oversaw the amendments. My contract lawyers found and removed twenty-three different escape clauses.

[In response, Connors' smirk grows larger.]

Mandrake: Let me guess. You put in twenty-four.

Connors: Thirty-one, actually. But that was a good guess.

[Connors opens up the manila folder and pulls out a document. He quickly rifles through the pages until he comes upon one page that has a section that has been highlighted and circled. He hands it to Mandrake, who reads.]

Connors: Right there. That's the easiest one to use, anyway. The rest are in invisible ink or disguised as underlines.

Mandrake: You put an escape clause in the signatures section?

Connors: I know! Nobody ever looks for it there!

[Victor Mandrake sighs, heavy with frustration. Were he a lesser man, he'd be saying "I don't need this shit."]

Mandrake: So, you can leave. That does not prevent Ratigan and Dale from competing, nor does it allow you to do what you wish with their titles.

Connors: Except for the fact that they don't have contracts with WWA or OLW.

[Mandrake cocks an eyebrow.]

Connors: They have no legal obligation to even show up for the match. Not even that ridiculous escapade with the public contract signing can bind them. You see, the contract used to sign the match between the Conspiracy and the Faces of Death...it's the standard contract for a match between WWA employees. Only, Deacon Dale and Trevor Ratigan are not WWA employees. They have never signed an employment contract with Old Line Wrestling or the World Wrestling Alliance. But, they have signed one with CSP Limited. In essence, Mister Mandrake...they are MY employees, not yours.

[Victor Mandrake has quickly become exasperated with the situation. It is time to, as they say, cut to the chase.]

Mandrake: I don't have the time nor the inclination to get into a legal battle over this matter. I already have too many things to worry about, with those idiots in HRW, random mysterious letters, among others. The last thing I need at this moment is another thorn in my side.

Connors: So?

Mandrake: So, you are a business man. I have come to make you an offer.

[Connors nods appreciatively.]

Connors: Offers are good. We can begin the negotiations now.

Mandrake: There will be no negotiation. Only a question. How much money would it take for you to leave the World Wrestling Alliance right now, and never come back?

[Wow. A rather unexpected question. Most people would have to think for quite a while before giving an answer.]

[Wyatt Connors is not most people.]

Connors: Two hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred and fifty-two dollars. And eighty-one cents.

Mandrake: A rather odd figure. Suppose I round it off a little.

[Mandrake lifts up the metal case, sets it on a nearby table. As he opens it, Connors' eyes go wide. The case is, as you might expect, filled with money. Quite a lot of money, in fact, all arranged in bound stacks. Rows and rows of Benjamin Franklin stare back at Wyatt Connors.]

Mandrake: Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In exchange, you will give me the World Tag Team Title belts, so that I may then return them to the champions. You will waive all legal rights that would allow you to prevent Deacon Dale and Trevor Ratigan from competing tonight. And you will leave the building, immediately.

[Connors emits a low whistle. Then, he sets to work. First, he takes two bundles of cash out, and then sets them aside. He picks up another, and begins counting off at a rapid pace. Once he has reached a certain number, he pulls that number of bills out of the bundle, sets them on the table, and then puts the rest back into the briefcase. Next, he reaches into his own pocket and removes his wallet.]

Mandrake: What are you doing?

[He does not answer, though. Instead, he rifles through and pulls out a few assorted bills. Finally, he reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change. He picks out a few coins, and then places all of it on the table, next to the already-set-aside cash.]

[Twenty-four thousand, three hundred and forty-seven dollars. And nineteen cents.]

Mandrake: What's that?

Connors: Your change.

[Mandrake scoffs.]

Mandrake: And the belts?

[Without a second thought, Connors turns the belts over to Mandrake, then turns his own attention back to the case full of money.]

Mandrake: Would you like to leave a message for your henchmen?

Connors: Tell them whatever you want. It's not my problem anymore.

[Without another word, Connors snaps the briefcase closed, picks it up, and heads out the door. It will be the last time anyone in the WWA will ever see "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors. And their lives are all the better for it.]

[A smirking Victor Mandrake sets the title belts down on the table, and then picks up the money set aside by Wyatt Connors, placing it in his own pockets. Can't let nearly twenty-five grand just lying around, you know.]

[His smirk becomes wider as he picks up the World Tag Team Title belts. Another crisis averted; another job well done. It soon fades back into a look of contempt, though, at the moment that he hears footsteps approaching from a different part of the room. He wonders to himself how it is that they managed to get a dressing room that was so large.]

[He only has a moment to do so, though, as soon the champions come into view. "Rotten" T.J. Ratigan, wearing tattered denim shorts, smelly boots, and a t-shirt that reads "Your Favorite Sports Team Sucks." "The Judge" Deacon Dale, in that preposterous robe and noose.]

[Imagine their surprise when they find that the owner of the WWA is in front of them...and their manager is not.]

Ratigan: What the hell are you doing here?

[Dale gives him a sharp elbow in the ribs.]

Ratigan: Sir?

Mandrake: I regret to inform you that your manager and teammate, "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors, has cut all ties with the World Wrestling Alliance.

Dale: What? Why?

Mandrake: I suggest you take it up with him, if you ever see him again. Now, we all have important things to attend to, so I suggest you finish preparations for you match.

[Mandrake looks down at the World Tag Team Titles, then holds them out toward the champions.]

Mandrake: I believe these are yours. For now.

[Dale meekly takes the belts from Victor Mandrake, unsure of what to say--what can possibly be said. If he had come up with anything, though, Mandrake would not be there to hear it. He is a busy man, and even more so during a major event such as this one. He leaves without another word to go attend to his other pressing concern somewhere in the parking garage, leaving the World Tag Team Champions alone to deal with their predicament.]

Dale: What the hell...he left? He can't just leave. We've got a match!

Ratigan: I can't believe that asshole.

[Yes, Ratigan is bothered by this too...but nothing bothers him for long.]

Ratigan: Well, fuck him. C'mon, we've got a match to win.

Dale: But...Trevor, were you not just here? Wyatt's gone! What the hell are we supposed to do now?

Ratigan: Oh, put in a fresh tampon and calm down. This doesn't change anything. We're still gonna go out there and walk all over those buttlicks in the Faces of Death.

Dale: Right. Without Connors, we're going to do that.

Ratigan: Dude, we don't need him. We got me.

[T.J. smiles that cocky smile, complete with stained teeth. As if the thought of failure had never occured to him. Which...well, you know.]

Dale: Son of a bitch.

[Deacon hands one of the tag titles to his partner. Whether or not they like the situation, Deacon Dale and T.J. Ratigan will have to find a way to come through against the odds.]

[They don't have a choice.]

[Cut.]

Paige's Heroes: II
"Irish Fire" David Paige

Backstage again, David Paige is now seeing wearing a Priest's robes, holding the charter in his hand. His two remaining allies, Pete and Milhouse are by his side, holding holy torches in their hands. In the center of the locker room is a bath filled with water.

Paige: "We will now begin the ceremony of cleansing."

Pete: "Uh, do you know what you're doing?"

Paige: "Oh absolutely, see, I figure it works like this. Mandrake is evil right?"

Milhouse: "Uh, right."

Paige: "So I figure, this charter has to be evil. It's why it's cursed."

Pete: "Have we even established that the charter is cursed?"

Paige: "Huh?"

Pete: "I mean, you kinda just assumed it was. What if it was all just a big mistake?"

Milhouse: "Yeah, I mean, what if we did that library of doom for nothing?"

Paige: "Well hell, we made it out ok, didn't we?"

Pete: "Uhhhh… did we?"

Milhouse: "Yeah, how did we escape from that?"

Paige: "We just did ok?"

Pete: "I don't really remem…"

Paige: "We… just… did…"

Pete: "If you say so."

Paige: "So anyways, if we dip the cursed charter, which we know, for a FACT, is cursed, into the holy water, while surrounded by these holy torches, we should be just peachy."

Milhouse: "If you say so…"

Pete: "Yeah, boss… if you say so."

Paige: "Well I do, so let's get started."

Paige begins to chant randomly.

Milhouse: "What are you saying?"

Paige: "I dunno, I found it in some Latin book."

Paige continues to chant, slowly dipping the charter into the holy water. Once it is entirely submerged, Paige pulls it out, holding the wet document triumphantly.

Pete: "It's running!"

Paige: "Huh?"

Pete: "The ink, it's running."

Sure enough, the now wet charter is dripping ink down the paper, smudging the words to the point of illegibility.

Paige: "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Milhouse: "Here, here, dry it with the torch!"

Paige holds the charter over the torch. Suddenly, it bursts into flames.

Paige: Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Paige waves the charter back and forth, trying to put it out. The force of shaking tears the contract to shreds. The little torn pieces of paper burn into ash as they fall to the ground.

Pete: "Uhhhhhh… I don't think the cleansing worked."

Paige: "Yes, I gathered that…"

Paige removes his priest's robes and leaves the locker room.

Milhouse: "Where are you going boss?"

Paige: "I got a back-up plan, come on…"

Victory Speech
Eduardo Domingo

[We cut backstage to the ever familiar interview backdrop. Standing in front of the backdrop is none other than Eduardo Domingo and his mentor Freddy Phoenix. Phoenix still seems to be in quite a good mood after his protégé's victory earlier in the evening. Eduardo seems less pleased, though happy to still have the Double Crown Title in his possession.]

[Beside them is the familiar visage of HRW play by play man Mark Hazen, he stands with a microphone in his hand, the left one of course. He raises the mic to speak as he looks at the two men.]

Hazen: I'm here with Eduardo Domingo who earlier tonight retained the Double Crown Championship against Daeriq Damien.

[He pauses for a moment.]

Hazen: Eduardo, how does it fill to walk away with such a hard earned victory?

[Hazen moves the microphone over to Eduardo.]

Eduardo: Well Mark, it always feels good to win. I mean seriously, nobody likes to lose but that is a part of life. Though fortunately losing wasn't in the cards for me tonight.

[The man interviewing the champ looks a little intrigued by that statement.]

Hazen: You almost seem surprised that you won.

[The response is a swift one.]

Eduardo: I'm not surprised Mark, I'm just a realist. I know that nothing is a guarantee in this business, only a fool would expect to win every time out. There's way too much talent around here to think that anybody is untouchable.

[There's a nod of agreement from Hazen.]

Hazen: You know I spent some time south of the border back when I was an active wrestler. Your grandfather was quite the icon in Mexico; your performance here tonight would have probably made him proud. So do you feel any added pressure to live up to his legacy?

[Before Eduardo can answer, Freddy Phoenix leans into the picture.]

Freddy: We're not here to talk about the past Mark. Everybody doesn't need to worry about some old man. What they need to do is take a good look at the future because that's what Eduardo Domingo is.

Hazen: Well on that note. Do you have anything that you'd like to say to the top contenders for your title?

[Again Freddy interrupts.]

Freddy: They all just better get use to hearing that… contender. Only one man is going to have the words Double Crown Champion uttered along with his name and you're looking at him.

[Freddy nods toward Eduardo, who himself speaks.]

Eduardo: I just hope this served as a message that a title has to be earned and that no man is going to take this belt from me without a fight.

[Eduardo pats the DC Title on his shoulder.]

Eduardo: So Jimmy Danger, Burrell, Ashton, Van Horne… whoever is going to get the next shot at the belt. Be ready…

… I am.

[With those words said, Domingo just stares at the camera for a few moments to let them sink in before we cut away.]

Are You Cool?
CHIMERA

[The recently left alone Curtis Penn is joined by, his WCWA Tag teammate, Parker Smith. Parker smoothly enters the room, trying not to disturb the brash CHIMERA star.]

Smith: You cool?

[The only motion Penn gives is a smirk. Penn has been resting on the bench since he cut his last promo.]

Smith: I saw your promo… Decently cut. But, are you cool?

[He rolls his head to the direction of Parker.

Penn: I've won state wrestling titles… I've traveled to Japan by myself… I survived overseas with out help… I have even stood in front of a GEC audience and took on the roster… Yeah… this is nothing, but another day at the office.

[He moves his head to stare back at the ceiling.]

Smith: Worries?

[Small chuckle.]

Penn: One…

Smith: What's that?

[He sits directly up.]

Penn: Am I ready to hold the WfWA World Title.

[Parker laughs, yeah the kid is ready.]

Smith: I'll be back to get you for your match, rest, this match is going to take a lot out of you champ.

[Parker turns around and walks out the door.]

Penn: About time his ass left.

[Curt stands up and rushes to the restroom, after that all you hear is the noise of him tossing his cookies.]

Oh Testify!
Splenda

[The official WWA Media Blitz area was fully staffed with reporters. Every credible news magazine that was concerned with the results of Crown of War, and wrestling in general, had someone here. Credibility oozed from this room, and Mandrake was strictly controlling who was allowed to get in here. However, he didn't count on one thing.]

[Splenda was a sneaky, sneaky man.]

[Into the press conference room he snuck, in a very fancy suit jacket and white shirt. As the reporters milled about, Splenda suddenly... appeared... behind the podium.]

"OH MY BROTHAS AND SISTAS!"

[Everyone stopped what they were doing, turning to see the 'froed wonder standing there, thumbs in the lapels of his jacket, a self-satisfied grin on his lips.]

"ON THIS MOST AUSPICIOUS EVENIN', I DO BELIEVE DAT WE'S GATHERED HERE FOR ONE VERY IMPORTANT REASON!"

[People were mumbling to one another. "Why's he shouting? He has a live mike..."]

"WE'RE HERE T' CELEBRATE TH' SPORT O' PROFESSIONAL WRESTLIN'! CAN I GET AN "AMEN"?"

[One person. In the back. An internet person, who had little social skills... Let out a muffled "Amen!"]

"WE'RE HERE... T' CELEBRATE MODERN-DAY GLADIATORIAL FIGHTIN'! WE'RE HERE... T' SEE MEN FIGHT AND STRUGGLE AND GRAPPLE! CAN I GET A "HALLELUJAH?!"

[No. No, he could not. The disgust poured from these journalists, as they watched the obvious attention-seeker.]

"BUT LET ME TURN YOUR ATTENTION TO ONE THING, MY BROTHAS AND SISTAS! AND THAT IS TH' AMAZIN' WORTHINESS OF THREE MEN, THREE MEN WHO DESERVE YOUR ACCOLADES AND YOUR ATTENTION!"

"THE FACES O' DEATH!"

[A groan. The media knew Splenda would want to put himself over.]

"BUT NOT JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE THE BEST THERE IS! THEY'VE GOT THEIR PEERS IN THAT! AARON VASQUEZ, COBRA, PAIGE AND BROOKS, HORREY, ANDREWS, MAHARBA AND PLENTY OF OTHERS! THIS ALLIANCE GOT TH' BEST IN THE WORLD!"

[Well, it was nice of him to mention others...]

"BUT BECAUSE... THEY'S TH' MOST HANDSOME MEN ON EARTH! THE MOST BRUTAL FIGHTERS! AN' THE MOST PIMPIN' GROUP TO STEP FOOT IN NEW YORK SINCE SUGA FREE, OVER IN CALI!"

[Jesus...]

"LET ME PROMISE ALL OF YOU ONE THING! I PROMISE TO YOU THAT TH' WORLD TAG TITLE MATCH IS GONNA BE THE BEST MATCH OF THE NIGHT! THE BEST WRESTLING, MOST INTENSE ACTION..."

[This was the point that a dainty Chinese girl would slip onto stage, eyes wide and somewhat fearful of the crowd. However, she swallowed her fears, and came up next to Splenda, slapping his shoulder and slowly shoving Splenda off the stage. She leaned to the mike, blushing.]

"Apologies..."

[Her accent was thick, but intelligible. Hooray for her, actually making an effort to learn the language! She wants to join society fully. Splenda gave in, and was shoved off stage. The media went back to their chatting, waiting for something that mattered...]

WWA World Tag Team Title Match
The Conspiracy (c) vs. Faces of Death

[The WWA World Tag Team Championship between the Conspiracy and the Faces of Death started with Kengoro Sugamoto and Deacon Dale. The Conspiracy have had one of the most memorable WWA Tag Title reign, lasting well over 6 months, longer than any before them. The Faces of Death have yet to face defeat. One team's reign had to end tonight as Dale and Kengoro locked up in the middle of the ring. Dale was able to gain the upper hand and throw Kengoro into the Conspiracy corner. Tag to Ratigan. Trevor Ratigan had a nice two minutes of momentum with plenty of offense on Sugamoto. Kengoro finally reversed a suplex and tagged in Nicky. Being the large man that Nicky Corozzo was, began to manhandle Ratigan. Corozzo tagged in Kengoro, who began a vicious barrage of strikes on Ratigan. Ratigan slipped away long enough to tag in Dale, who entered the ring only to be planted by a flying forearm from Kengoro. Tag to Corozzo. Pendulum backbreaker hit on Dale followed by a near fall. Corozzo hits a huge stomp on Dale, then tags Sugamoto back in. Splenda started talking to the ref. As the referee was distracted by this, both members of the Faces of Death came into the ring, looking for blood. Ratigan runs in, hoping to save his partner, but is tossed to the outside immediately by Nicky. Nicky stands on one side of a bent over Deacon Dale, Kengoro stands on the other. They chickenwing Dale's arms, and lift him into the air, almost throwing him upward. Nicky and Kengoro shove on the back of the Dale's head, spinning him around, and, still holding the chickenwings, they'll slam him, head-and-shoulders first into the mat. The Valhalla Bomb. The referee reenters the ring and Kengoro gets the cover for the three.]

Winners and NEW WWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: FACES OF DEATH!!

Detriments Be Wary
Maharba

Maharba: To be wary is wise. -- Crown Of War is upon us and raises the brow of my personal Deity, Boj. Boj tells the story of how competition should not be confined to more than two individual Gladiators per battle.

[Maharba lays the Eternal City Gladiator Championship over his left shoulder, breathing rhythmically.]

Maharba: -- Detrimental events like Crown Of War do not please Boj, The Messenger Of Our Livelihoods. Therefore, I have only one option in my being and that is to be sure that First Warlord will be from Colosseum walls. I hold this truth to be a measure of stock. Gladiators are above all other forms of male herds.--

[Maharba pauses, contemplating his opposition in this all-important bout.]

Maharba: I look forward with keen interest and of relevant nature. Outright, The Maharbian Way shall inherit the burden of learning The Detrimental. The Maharbian Way must be adhered and followed as the WWA Collective must slowly fuse together under the arch of true purpose.-- The Colosseum is our Daily Bread and you will feed from the knowledge of Victor's Standard and Maharbian Dictation. Be Just.--

[Seemingly for no reason at all, silence abruptly ensues as a bright light hides the frame of Maharba as we move press onward with the historic event.]

The Zorror Of It All
Zortalk

[Electra Bowie stands in front of a locker room door, clearly marked with a giant, red hanging "Z". She sighs to herself for a moment and knocks on the door. The door swings open to reveal William in a red silk robe. Electra quickly shuts the door, her eyes shooting wide open as if she got an eyeful too much. The door creaks open just a crack to see some of Zortalk's face.]

Zortalk: So I take it you want me to be in something less casual?

Electric Bowie: Yes, for the love of God, yes.

[He grins and closes the door. In seconds flat the door swings open again with William in his wrestling attire for the night. Electra enters the room, filled with candles and rose pedals. She shakes her head as she blows out the candles and brushes away the candles while giving him a glare.]

Zortalk: Can't a man try?

Electric Bowie: Can we just get this over with?

Zortalk: With pleasure!

Electric Bowie: .. The Interview.

Zortalk: Oh... That.

[William takes a deep breath and puts on a serious face. He gently shoves Electra out of the shot.]

Zortalk: Welcome to The Rocky Zorror Picture Show, The Little Shop of Zorrors, The Zorror of Party Beach! Tonight, I, William Boscoe Davenport represent the AWA. I will lead them to victory. I will make the mother land proud as I become Warlord in honor of All-Star Wrestling Association.

[Electra pushes her way back into the shot.]

Electric Bowie: Zortalk... Exactly how to plan on-

Zortalk: With power unbridled fury and power, as the Arena Champion of the AWA...

[He points down at his waist where the Arena Championship rests.]

Zortalk: Everyone knows I'm to be taken seriously. Who else can claim to be a two time Arena Champion, Future AWA Heavyweight champion and soon to be Warlord of the WWA.

Electric Bowie: Well, I'm sure everyone can claim that soon to be Warlord part. I mean, nothing is set in stone. Who's to say Paige doesn't insert himself into the match to take the honor and to secure his reign as WWA Heavyweight champion?

Zortalk: He can do that?

Electric Bowie: Uhhhh...

[The two look away from each other and the camera and around the general area looking around. They get no answer immediately.]

Zortalk: I hope not, otherwise, I might not win.

Electric Bowie: So Paige is your only threat.

Zortalk: Come on Electra... Look at those losers. I'm obviously the most talented from the AWA. Who's going to give me a run for my money except for "Irish Fire"?

Electric Bowie: Catalyst?

Zortalk: Beat him... twice.

Electric Bowie: Maharba

Zortalk: Overrated.

Electric Bowie: Anthony Phoenix?

Zortalk: Who?

Electric Bowie: Python?

Zortalk: Not worth my time.

Electric Bowie: Noah Hanson?

Zortalk: Questionable Sexual Preference. However, he isn't like Freddy Mercury or Rob Halford. He's untalented.

Electric Bowie: Sam Horrey?

Zortalk: Beat him!

Electric Bowie: Simon Sensation?

Zortalk: Who?

Electric Bowie: What about Johan De'Lovely?

Zortalk: ... Electra, are you just making up names to test if I'm paying attention?

[He stares at her for a moment.]

Zortalk: It really doesn't matter. This cat is in the bag, I will join the other Warlords of history the likes of Ygo Gales Galama, Maximilian the first, Joe Strummer and-

Electric Bowie: Joe Strummer?

Zortalk: Hello... Punk Rock Warlord?!

Electric Bowie: ... Of course

Zortalk: Tonight... I join the warlords and become the first ever warlord of the WWA.

[He smiles for the camera with a big thumbs up.]

The Meeting
Victor Mandrake and ???

[Victor Mandrake prepares himself for anything, as he emerges into the parking garage. He's been in this business long enough not to be surprised by most sights. After all, considering the men and women he's come face to face with over the course of his career, violence and danger are synonymous with professional wrestling. But he's not quite sure what to make of what he stumbles upon, as he passes through the secured area of the parking garage, where the wrestlers and high-ranking staff park their vehicles.]

[Leaning against his black stretch limousine -- one of the perks of being the head honcho, it would seem, even though Mandrake has enough wealth to buy twenty of those cars on his own -- is a slender woman, with dirty blond hair down to her shoulders, and over-sized sunglasses covering her eyes. Her tight fitting, strapless black dress shows off her curves, coming to about mid-thigh. And the way her lips are curled up, painted a seductive red, causes Victor to instinctively grin in a leering response. His expression switches to one of confusion, however, when he sees what is resting upon the hood of the limousine, beside the woman's arm.]

[It's a baby basket, one of those basin-shaped, plastic deals, with the overarching handle to carry the baby along, like you would your groceries. Inside, there's no bomb, no trap, nothing sinister but a sleeping infant, no more than a half dozen or so months old. Victor approaches the odd couple warily, his lewd thoughts about the woman all but replaced by suspiciousness. Glancing around to be certain they're the only ones in the parking garage, he makes his way to stand a couple of meters away from the odd pair.]

Woman: Mandrake, I presume?

[Her smile never fades, but as she reaches up to remove her sunglasses, Victor looks into her eyes, and sees a dangerous twinkle in them.]

[He nods.]

Mandrake: I am Victor Mandrake. And who are you?

[The smile broadens into a toothy grin, an obviously exaggerated gesture, much like her overly-sweet tone as she responds to his query.]

Woman: Oh, no one you'd recognize. Anyway, who I am is not important. I was asked to give you a message.

[Standing with his arms crossed, obviously in no mood for games, he prompts a response.]

Mandrake: And that message is?

[The woman reaches inside the baby basket, and retrieves a piece of paper, similar to the one Mandrake had delivered to him earlier on. She puts on a serious expression as she begins to read.]

Woman: Baby, don't forget to bring home some milk when you...

[She looks up at Mandrake, a mock-embarrassed smile on her face.]

Woman: Oops, that isn't for you, is it.

[Mandrake narrows his eyes in response, clearly not amused.]

Woman: No sense of humor, huh? You'd think someone who looks like you do would have one.

[When he doesn't respond to her attempt at humor, she rolls her eyes, and goes back to reading the note.]

Woman: You owe me something. I'm here to collect it.

[Mandrake frowns, confused.]

Mandrake: Is that so?

[The woman sighs.]

Woman: That's what the note says. 'You owe me something. I'm here to collect it'.

[He takes a step closer to her, now towering over her five-foot-six frame. Glaring down at her, into her water-blue eyes, he takes a small bit of satisfaction from the almost unperceivable change in her eye, from one of amused defiance, to sudden wary.]

Mandrake: Who is the note from?

[She shrugs, turning to check on the sleeping infant, trying to show Victor she's not intimidated by him in the least, despite the slight quiver in her voice.]

Woman: No clue. I guess you'll find out in due time.

[His thoughts whirl, undecided whether to teach her a lesson, or whether to let it go. His first instinct is to lash out, but realizing as a man in charge of the entire World Wrestling Alliance, he can ill afford the bad press that will accompany any sort of assault on a defenseless woman and her infant son, he grits his teeth and turns away from her.]

[Realizing he'll get nothing further from the woman, he makes his way back inside the arena.]

Paige's Heroes: III
"Irish Fire" David Paige

Paige, Pete, and Milhouse are hidden in three separate lockers in Justin Brooks' locker room. There is a string coming from Paige's locker, heading off camera.

Pete: "So, uh, what are we doing in here?"

Paige: "We're waiting for Brooks."

Milhouse: "Why are we waiting for Brooks?"

Paige: "Because, we are going to crush him with a log."

Pete: "Uh, why?"

Paige: "Well, you see, since I apparently only made the curse worse, I figure it was time to take direct action against the superstition. Run-ins can backfire you see. So, as I figure it, the best way to guarantee that Brooks loses, is to make sure that Brooks doesn't even compete. Thus, I crush him with the log."

Milhouse: "Ok, but where did you get the log from?"

Paige: "Oh, it was leftover from my title defense against Cobra. I originally had the idea when facing him, but I just sort of forgot about it. And you know what they say, don't let a log go to waste."

Pete: "I am almost positive no one has ever said that."

Paige: "Are you questioning the log?"

Pete: "No… I…"

Paige: "Because over here it sounds like you're questioning the log."

Pete: "… Sorry Sir…"

Paige: "Forgiven."

Milhouse: "So what if you miss?"

Paige: "Well, worse comes to worse, I still have you two to do the run-in. This is just an extra precaution. Shhhh, here he comes."

Sure enough, Justin Brooks returns to his locker room, dressed and ready for action for tonight's main event. He has a special look of determination in his eyes as he goes for a few special pre-match exercises. He does pushups. He does squats. He does jumping jacks. Ever wonder why wrestlers are always all sweaty before they even wrestle? That's why. Anyways, as Brooks prepares for his jump-roping, Paige pulls the string, hoping to crush, quite literally, the competition.

Unfortunately, just as Paige releases the log, Brooks drops a handle of the jump-rope, and has to bend down to retrieve it. Just as he ducks, the Log swings by overhead, completely missing him. What it doesn't miss however, is the locker that Pete is hiding in.

Pete: "Meep!"

SMASH

3 Down.

Justin Brooks, surprised, looks over to the now smashed locker, and is even more surprised when Milhouse and Paige come running, full speed, out of the other two.

The two surviving men dash out of the locker room and into the hallway, not stopping until they make it all the way back to Paige's locker room.

Milhouse: "So, what now boss?"

Paige: "Well… we can… still… we can still do this…"

Milhouse: "But Boss, the curse! It's happening. Hank has no balls. Roger was zapped. Pete got squashed!"

Paige: "NO! THERE IS NO CURSE!"

Milhouse: "I don't wanna be next."

Paige: "Don't worry, the main event is almost up… we just need to… just need to stay here, nice and safe until then. Then, you just distract the ref. I can do the ball shot myself. See? No curse. We can still work through this."

Milhouse: "This is not worth the pay, you know that."

Paige: "You're getting paid?"

The Art Of Storytellin'
Justin Brooks

[Justin Brooks sat in his locker room as he looked up, hearing the crowd cheer from inside of Madison Square Garden for just a moment before lowering his head. The room was empty as he sat on the wooden bench taking a moment to take in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. He placed a taped hand over his stomach as he took a moment to clear his throat. There was a soft knock at his door as he looked over towards the door and nodded his head slightly.]

"Yeah...come in..."

[The locker room door opened slowly as Alliance ring tech stepped into the room wearing a headset and with a brown WWA clipboard in his hand. Flipping through several pages of paper, he looks up at Justin who continued to sit on the bench across the room.]

"Mr. Brooks? Are you ready sir...your match is up next."

[Justin nodded his head as he stood to his feet. Reaching down, he picked up his navy blue FDNY pullover and slid it over his head. He walked towards the door as he suddenly stopped in the middle of the locker room. The ring tech arched a brow as he looked around.]

"Mr. Brooks...are you okay?"

[Justin looked at the Ring Tech before racing towards the large trash can in the corner.]

*UPCHUCK!!!!1!!1!!!*

[The ring cringes as Brooks hurls into the trash can before standing upright and walking back towards the door with a smile on his face.]

"Okay...I'm ready to go now."

Figuring Out The Clue: II
Francis Hamilton

[On the table sits the vial…unopened. In walks Mickey; he looks at the table then at Felicity and Catalyst.]

Mickey: Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't even open the damned thing yet!

Felicity: We're waiting.

Mickey: Waiting, for what…a fucking special occasion.

[Catalyst takes a drink from a water bottle, eyeing up his friend.]

Francis: Dude, what's your problem?

Mickey: MY problem!? MY problem!? I'm trying to get you to focus, I'm trying to get you to win. I wanna see you succeed. And all you care about is a fucking vial and a God damn snow globe.

[It's like a hurricane, when he said this he was pacing around the room. Huffing and puffing and blowing houses down and shit.]

Francis: Dude, we're waiting till after the match. We've decided.

[Felicity shakes her head in agreement.]

Mickey: Oh in that case…

[He sits down, and the three of them all look at each other.]

Francis: I'm gonna win this thing.

Felicity: Or at least make an impact.

Francis: Nah I wanna win the damned thing.

[Over and out.]

Hope To See You Soon
Calib Wallace

"Two doors."

"Two paths."

"Two different types of people."

"The difference, though, does not outweigh the one similarity."

"The WWA World Heavyweight Championship."

[We pan in now as we see Calib Wallace standing outside of two doors. The one in front of him reads "Justin Brooks" and the other, maybe fifteen feet down the way, says "David Paige."]

"You see, one comes in Champ, and the other is the front runner to gun for the title in just a matter of moments. I give kudos to the two men, and hope they can put on a show for the ages."

[He smirks.]

"That's until I get my chance. Tonight, I step into the main event yet again, this time competing in the first ever, Crown of War. The outcome is simple."

[A faint smile now from the cocky Wallace.]

"Calib Wallace is going to Disneyworld."

[He raises his arms in the air, cocky grin and all, like the world is his.]

"You see tonight, I don't care who I have to go through, I will win Crown of War. It's that simple. I'll do anything and everything to make sure that it comes true. From there, it's Paige or Brooks. I'll be damned if my dream and legacy doesn't come true this year. It was taken from me last year by the WWA offices, only this time, they can't stop me. I'm the hungry wolf in 08, and it starts tonight."

[He looks at the door of Justin Brooks, then walks a bit down the hall and stands in front of David Page's door.]

"Brooks, Paige, good luck. To the winner, I hope to see you soon."

[Fade.]

WWA World Heavyweight Title Match
"Irish Fire" David Paige (c) vs. Justin Brooks

[Now the time had come for the World Title, and David Paige's legacy, to be determined.]

[And of course, Victor Mandrake had to stick his nose into it.]

["Mr. Self-Destruct" by Nine Inch Nails blasted through the speakers just as the ring announcer was clearing his throat to bring the men down. The fans booed their hearts content, knowing all too well that the current CEO of the WWA had a monkey wrench up his sleeve that he was all too happy to throw into the mix. Dressed in a black suit with a red tie, he entered the ring and grabbed a microphone.]

Mandrake: Welcome one and all, to the event that I've been waiting for all night. This match that's about to happen is the culmination of a long, drawn out, skull splitting headache that's nearly resulted in the untimely and tragic death of a certain promotional head known as Finn McCullough.

[Victor's words were laced with sarcasm, which fueled the crowd's discontent.]

Mandrake: Fortunately, though, a bit of intelligence seemed to permeate that thick skull of his, and he actually came up with a legitimate plan that would satisfy both parties. I wanted the World Prestige Crown downgraded. He wanted Justin Brooks involved in the World Title match between David Paige and Terry Woods to prove his legitimacy. I accepted the offer, more then willing to let Paige and Woods show Brooks what real World Championship class and skill looked like. Unfortunately, during the course of time leading to this event, irreconcilable differences arose between me and Woods, and Terry left of his own accord, leaving just Mr. Brooks and Mr. Paige facing each other in their match.

Bowie: Thank you for the rundown, Captain Obvious.

Hazen: Give him a chance, he's making his point.

Bowie: When? Next year?

Mandrake: However…

Hazen: Right now.

Mandrake: The match was originally scheduled to be a triple threat, and I have come out to ensure that that aspect of the match remains.

Bowie: Uh-oh…

Mandrake: And, to make it even more interesting, I've decided to go out and recruit the only man that has beaten David Paige during his World Title reign for this match; the current NWA World Heavyweight Champion, David Dunn.

[The crowd boos louder.]

Hazen: Whoa! Does this mean the NWA Title is up for grabs too?

Mandrake: Dunn's title will not be on the line…

Bowie: That'd be a no.

Mandrake: …but he will be more then able to steal either the Prestige Crown or the WWA World Championship itself.

[Mandrake's words are barely audible over the deafening jeers. Victor's smile just grows wider with every ounce of hate hurled at him.]

Mandrake: So, without further adieu…

[Mandrake motions to the ring announcer and exits.]

Hazen: "And this is for all the marbles."

Bowie: "We already used that one."

Hazen: "Even so. This is the big match... And what a shocker for David Paige!"

Bowie: "I'd be supremely pissed if I were Paige. This could be the kind of thing that screws him out of his title!"

Hazen: "Or titles."

[Mark took off his headset, then, and rose, picking up his mike. As he had the whole night long, Mark was doing announcing duty, as well, and would need to tell the fans exactly what was going on.]

"THE FOLLOWING MATCH IS GOING TO BE FOR TWO FALLS... WITH THE FIRST BEING FOR HUDSON RIVER WRESTLING'S "WORLD PRESTIGE CROWN" CHAMPIONSHIP, AND THE SECOND BEING FOR THE WWA WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!"

"COMING FIRST TO THE RING... FROM NEW YORK, NEW YORK..."

["Fuck. Tha. Fake. Shit!" The rap blasted over the house speakers, the NYC faithful leaping to their feet to cheer, as the curtains were thrown apart. The cheers weren't just in the high-pitched tone... No, Justin Brooks wasn't only over with the women and kids. How could a homeboy firefighter not be someone popular with the crowd?]

"REPRESENTING HUDSON RIVER WRESTLING..."

[The dark-skinned wrestler came out, onto the ramp, and threw his hands skyward. A grim tightness to his lips, as he looked over the crowd, eyes pinched at the corners with stress and weariness. Japan to Italy to NYC, and some of the highest points in his career, and lowest, all in one whirlwind tour. And now, Justin Brooks had finally come back home.]

"JUSTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN BROOOOOOOOOOOOOKS!"

[Down the ramp Brooks stepped, before the pyrotechnics crew behind him set off a blast of bright orange flame, a kid in the front row waving a red plastic firefighter's helmet at JB. Brooks, in spite of himself, laughed, and took the helmet, putting it on, and throwing his arms out to his sides as the pillar of flame burned behind him.]

[Brooks handed the helmet back, and stepped to the ring, leaping up and onto the ring apron. Holding onto the top rope, Brooks clenched a hand into a fist, bending to pound on the ring apron, before under the top rope he went, whirling, bathed in the light of a thousand flashbulbs. Arms were held out to the sides as he looked over the fans filling Madison Square Garden. This was perhaps the biggest show that Justin Brooks was involved in, and possibly the biggest chance of his life.]

"COMING SECOND TO THE RING... FROM WALESCO, TEXAS..."

[A cold mist issued forth from the entryway ramp, as the dark, ambient intro cast a gloomy pallor over the arena... Until the guitars kicked in! "Blow Me Away", by Breaking Benjamin rocked the speakers of the house, and the WWA faithful started to boo, some of the turncoat fans of both cheering for the NWA World Champ. A blast of fireworks went off before the curtains, and out from the back came the second of two challengers. These fans had been promised a triple threat, and so the NWA had sent their star to try and shatter Paige's golden dreams.]

[For the second time.]

"REPRESENTING THE NATIONAL WRESTLING ALLIANCE..."

[David Dunn, The Goddamn Fucking Franchise, the NWA World Champion, swaggered out from the back. Belt around his waist, Dunn threw his arms upward, fingers pointing to the heavens, as he was bathed in the sparky backwash of his fireworks.]

"HE IS DAVID... DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNN!"

[Down to the ring Dunn slipped, the WWA's most faithful booing this interloper, Brooks crouched and beckoning Dunn on with a little grin. Dunn ignored Brooks, as he came up onto the apron, looking over the assembled fans, a somber look on his face... Until a line of fans in NWA garb, waving at Dunn, caught his eye. He suddenly smirked, as he turned, and stepped into the ring.]

Bowie: "Look at the tension between these two... Brooks is all ready for the match, and perfectly willing to whoop Dunn's ass for him! I may prefer Dunn's style, but he's got a lot of gall, coming into this match!"

"AND FINALLY COMING TO THE RING..."

[Some cheers. A lot more boos. The internet-smart fans tended to prefer Paige, for work rate and his fantastic grasp of heel tactics. And the rest... Not quite as much. Boos rained down, as the ululating tones of the familiar theme song hit over the speakers. The plunking, acoustic guitar work came riding through the soundwaves.]

"HE IS YOUR WORLD WRESTLING ALLIANCE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION... AND YOUR WORLD PRESTIGE CROWN CHAMPION..."

[Out from the back, in that familiar black-and-green, flame-print singlet, golden belts dangling from both shoulders, both arms, and his waist. The World Heavyweight Championship, HRW's World Prestige Crown, WR's Emerald Isle Championship, White Mountain Wrestling's Summit Championship, and even the old W*P Paradise Heavyweight Championship!]

"FROM DUBLIN, IRELAND..."

[Paige stepped out, onto the entryway setup, and, holding onto those title belts, threw his head back. The last remaining member of Team Paige slunk out behind Paige... And double columns of green flame erupted from the entryway stage, as well as a wall of pyro, blasting into the sky, diagonally and away, and shooting sparks forward. The explosion lit up the entire arena, sending waves of heat over everything... And everyone. The sounds of said detonations, rolling from the left side of the stage to the right, filling the area with echoing, floor-shaking, diaphragm-vibrating kabooms.]

Bowie: "THE HEAVENS HAVE OPENED, AND GOD IS ANGRY!"

[Eventually, the pyro finally subsided, the explosions dying down... And Paige looked back, to check on his lackey, and ensure that he could carry Paige's spare titles... But all that was left was a pair of smoking, slightly still burning shoes. Paige gave a heavy sigh, as Paige headed down to the ring.]

"HE IS "IRISH FIRE"... DAVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID... PAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGE!"

[Some few, remnants of his old, nice-guy phase, or fans of his in-ring skills, cheered Paige from the sidelines, but the rest booed, some even throwing trash at Paige. A cup spattered beer over the faceplate of the W*P Paradise Heavyweight Championship, and that guy was found by security, dragged outside, and the security guards laid the boots to him. Medium style.]

[Paige stepped up to ringside, and beckoned a crewman over to him. The crewman came running over... And all but two of Paige's title belts were draped on the man. Paige slapped him on the back, and sent the crewman running off, to keep those belts safe. But two of Paige's belts... They were on the line. And so, Paige climbed onto the apron, handing the belts to the referee.]

[The ref took the two belts, and folded them, bringing them over to Dunn, who nodded, stretching his legs out. The belts then traveled over to Brooks, who patted the two title belts on the face, before nodding to the ref, Roderick McMulligan, whom he had known for quite a while now.]

[The belts were held into the air... Handed off to a stagehand, and the ref signaled for the bell.]

Bowie: "These three look like they really hate each other!"

Hazen: "With good reason. Dunn handed Paige his first loss as a champion, Paige stole Brooks' title in a forced doubleheader title defense, Brooks' title was tarnishing Paige's World Champion status, and Paige is the leader of Dunn's competition."

Bowie: "Even so.. It looks like these three are taking their rivalries personally."

[The three men watched one another for a moment, after the bell rang, measuring one another. Paige was only half in the ring, one leg already over the second rope. He wanted nothing to do with this match, really... Three men meant he didn't even have to be pinned to lose. Not a good proposition by any means. Brooks, on the other hand...]

Hazen: "BROOKS GOES FLYING ACROSS THE RING!"

[As Paige went to try and leap from the ring, Brooks landed atop Paige, hammering away with both forearms! Paige tried to scramble from the ring, but Brooks grabbed a fistful of spandex, twisting the front of Irish Fire's Irish Fire singlet and balling it in his fist! Righteous right hands rocked Paige's jaw, sending Paige's head snapping back, as Brooks hauled Paige fully back into the ring!]

Bowie: "I think Brooks is getting some of that killer instinct that Paige and Dunn have! Maybe an osmoshpit type of thing?"

[As Brooks hauled Paige back into the ring, the HRW superstar grabbed the back of Paige's head, and whirled, throwing Paige to the mat! Fists clenched and Brooks beckoned Paige up, howling for Paige to get back up. However... David Dunn, who had been leaning against the ring ropes, exploded into action, dashing across the ring, to hammer an elbow into the back of Brooks' head!]

Hazen: "Dunn asserting his presence!"

[As Brooks staggered, Dunn leapt into the air, doubling his knees... And the two smashed back to the mat, Brooks bouncing off Dunn's doubled-up knees, back sufficiently cracked by the lungblower! As Paige came back to his feet, Dunn hooked the leg with a grin. He was trying for a quick pin to take the first of Paige's two titles!]

Bowie: "WHAT A KICK!"

[Even as McMulligan slid in to count the pin, Paige had come running across the ring, and damn near took Dunn's head off with a leaping dropkick to the face! Dunn rolled out of the ring, as Paige came back to his feet, still shaking off the blows Brooks had launched on his bearded jaw. Hauling Brooks back to his feet, Paige cranked that arm, twisting Brooks' right arm into a stretch. An elbow hammered to the shoulder, and another... And another and another and another! Paige tripped Brooks, deftly hammering Brooks to the ground, shoulder-first...]

Hazen: "Dunn's coming back up!"

Bowie: "Watch out, Paige!"

[As Paige hauled Brooks back up, Dunn had gotten back up onto the apron, and was about to climb into the ring... Still with a head full of cotton from the kick, Dunn moved to climb into the ring... Just as Paige came running over, hauling Brooks by the back of the head! CRACK went the two skulls, Brooks tossed over the top, Dunn hitting the floor of the Garden in a heap...]

[And Paige left alone in the ring, grinning like the cat that just ate the canary. He dropped to a knee, beckoning to the fans, and indeed, a good number of them cheered! As Paige rose back to his feet, the WWA faithful were proud of their champ... Well, more so than Dunn. Outsider, and all that.]

Hazen: "Whether the fans love him or hate him usually, there's some grudging respect!"

Bowie: "Finally, they see what I see!"

Hazen: "When Brooks manages to clear the cobwebs, these fans'll light up like the fourth of July."

[Dunn and Brooks slowly got back to their feet... And not seeing Paige around, Dunn threw a right hand, cracking Brooks in the jaw! The only guy in the match with no gold, being beaten on by both sides, staggered back and against the guardrail... And Dunn backed up, and charged forward, clotheslining Brooks over the top of the guardrail, into the first row!]

Hazen: "HEY! FANS! MOVE!"

Bowie: "The NYC fans know how we roll. Look at 'em already leaving their chairs behind!"

[Paige, usually not the type, sighed, and grabbed onto the top rope. Pulling back, Paige vaulted to the top rope, balancing precariously up top... Hands spread for a moment, and Paige leapt off, looking to take Dunn down...]

Bowie: "PAIGE IS FLYING!"

Hazen: "DUNN SEES HIM!"

[Dunn crouched, and arms snatched out... AND CAUGHT PAIGE! Using that momentum, Dunn turned, and hurled Paige into the rising Brooks, sending both men three rows back! Paige had crashed and burned, and Brooks was down like a sad clown!]

Bowie: "...I think I may need to start watching the NWA more..."

Hazen: "Oh lord. Dunn's made you a believer?"

Bowie: "Why didn't you get this guy for HRW?"

Hazen: "How do you expect me to pull off a coup like that?!"

[Dunn grinned, and hopped the guardrail. Grabbing Paige by the head, Dunn pulled him to his feet... And European uppercutted Paige right back down, seating him in a steel chair! Turning to Brooks, Dunn hoisted Brooks to his feet... And scooped Brooks into a Fireman's Carry! With Brooks up, Dunn hooked the head and the leg, setting up for a Death Valley Driver!]

Bowie: "BROOKS IS GONNA TAKE A HEAD DROP!"

Hazen: "What's that buzzing?"

[Dunn began to spin, disorienting Brooks as he readied him for the DVD which would undoubtedly net Dunn both HRW's top title and the WWA's... and Dunn turned... And DEATH VALLEY DRIVERED BROOKS THROUGH PAIGE!]

Hazen: "PAIGE GOES THROUGH THE CHAIR! BROOKS IS OUT ON TOP OF HIM!"

[Dunn grinned, and planted a foot atop Brooks, who laid atop Paige, for the easy pin. The ruined chair lay below Paige, broken and battered, and Paige was in agony... But Roderick McMulligan, the ref for this match, would not count the pin!]

Bowie: "It's outside of the ring! Can't win a title on a pinfall out there, in a normal match!"

Hazen: "I'm surprised Roddy has let the fighting go on so long out there!"

Bowie: "It's the World Title. Relaxed rules."

[McMulligan shook his head violently, arm thrashing. "I won't count a pin out there! Get BACK in the ring!". Dunn sighed, and grabbed a handful of Brooks' and Paige's hair,

[A very short handful, in Brooks' case.], and hoisted them both up. Brooks went over the top, back to ringside, and Paige followed. Dunn hopped over the top, and slid them both back into the ring. Slapping a hand to Brooks' and Paige's chests, Dunn knelt between them, grinning.]

Hazen: "PIN!"

[McMulligan slid in.]

"ONE!"

[The fans inched forward.]

Bowie: "Seems like he's counting slow..."

[Wait for it.]

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[BOTH Paige and Brooks had kicked out! Paige rolled onto his stomach, Brooks was trying to power back to a sitting position. Dunn's lip curled, and he began to stomp on both men, first Paige, then Brooks, then Paige, then Brooks... As Brooks finally got to a sitting position, and Paige began to push himself up to hands and knees, Dunn turned, hitting the ropes.. And came running back, to try and hammer Paige in the face with a running boot...]

Hazen: "PAIGE CATCHES THE BOOT!"

Bowie: "HE'S GOING FOR DUNN'S SUBMISSION!"

[Twisting the leg, Paige dropped Dunn to his stomach, and Paige came roaring to his feet, locking in the dreaded Anklelock! Dunn was dragged to the center of the ring, and Paige hooked on the Anklelock, cinching it up nice and tight! Brooks grabbed onto the ring ropes, pulling himself to his feet... And turned, seeing Dunn in such a predicament!]

Bowie: "Dunn's already in the Problem Solver... What's Brooks gonna do, break it?"

Hazen: "No! Brooks is lifting Dunn with a standing headlock... Bodyscissors AND THE GUILLOTINE CHOKE! BROOKS DROPS TO THE MAT!"

Bowie: "PAIGE HAS DUNN'S FINISHER LOCKED ON DUNN! BROOKS HAS PAIGE'S FINISHER LOCKED ON DUNN!"

[Brooks jaw jacked with Paige, Paige trash talked with Brooks as they held on their respective submissions! No matter when Dunn tapped, he was tapping to two different guys in a one fall match! Irritated, Paige started forward, stomping Brooks' face!]

[As Brooks broke the hold, Paige stomped and hammered at Brooks' head, before hoisting him back to his feet. Ducking, Paige hooked the waist of Brooks, and lifted, scooping Brooks into the air... Paige fell backwards, slamming on top of Brooks! But Paige didn't try for a pin.. Oh no no no... Paige went to his knees...]

Hazen: "Waterwheel drop, and Brooks is down! But Paige is gearing up for something!"

Bowie: "With how he's rubbing that forearm, I think he wants to hit a low blow on Brooks before Paige pins Brooks!"

[And indeed, Brooks began to crawl to his feet, Paige situated perfectly behind him... As Brooks came fully to his feet, Paige lunged forward... And Brooks lashed out, kicking straight back with a mule kick, cracking Paige in the face! Paige staggered back, hands clapped to his nose, and Brooks came spinning back around, leaping and kicking Paige directly in the side of the head! Paige's eyes rolled up into his head, and he crumpled!]

Hazen: "DUNN'S STILL IN A HEAP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RING! PIN HIM, JUSTIN!"

Bowie: "What a KICK!"

[As if he had heard Mark shouting from the announce position, Brooks leapt atop Paige, hooking the leg, legs kicking as he rolled Paige up, almost directly on his head, shoulders barely on the mat anymore! McMulligan came diving in, to count the pin...]

"ONE!"

[DRAMA!]

"TWO!"

[Dunn's still out! Paige is loopy! The ref is on Brooks' side! What's the turnout gonna be?!]

"THREE!"

[The bell rang, the first fall decided. Hazen dropped his headphones, and stood, picking up the mike. With a click, it went live!]

"THE WINNER OF THE FIRST FALL, AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW PRESTIGE CHAMPION... JUSTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN BROOOOOOOOOOOOOKS!"

[As Brooks came to his feet, Dunn and Paige traded a glance. This was not at all going the way either of them wanted it. With that kid fucking everything up, Paige could lose his title, and Dunn could lose his shot at humbling the competition.]

[Paige slowly came to a kneeling position, Dunn coming up, favoring his formerly anklelocked leg. As Brooks turned, the three were all on their feet, in exactly the same spot they had started in... Just a little worse for the wear.]

Bowie: "These guys are all pissed... Paige looks worried, and Dunn looks irritated!"

Hazen: "Well, Brooks just snuck the first fall not even ten minutes in! If he does the same thing, then both of his opponents' golden dreams are done!"

Bowie: "You have to be really, really careful. Paige got surprised by that kick, and if that happened again, Paige's world title run would end right here in New York!"

[As Brooks, Paige and Dunn began to circle, Dunn charged Brooks, hammering him in the side with a running elbow. Dunn seemed distracted... Almost like he was talking with Paige, shouting something to Paige. As Dunn hammered on Brooks with elbows, Brooks' face slowly cooled from excitement into resignment, like gravy congealing.]

Hazen: "If I were in the ring, I'd think that Dunn and Paige were allying..."

Bowie: "Perish the thought! I don't think two guys concerned about keeping the hot good-guy challenger would... team... up to stop him..."

Hazen: "Brooks is in trouble."

[Dunn hammered a knee into Brooks' face, straightening Brooks, and whipped Brooks off to the ropes... Right toward David Paige! Paige threw a lariat... And Brooks ducked! Paige whirled, as Brooks hit the ropes... Paige went to grab, but Brooks went low, and snapped Paige to the ground, with a VICIOUS Spear!]

Bowie: "WHAT A SPEAR!"

Hazen: "Those are always fantastic for turning the tide, if you've got the kind of size that any of these three have!"

[As Brooks rose, Dunn came running forward, trying for a boot to the gut... But Brooks caught it! Dunn tried to kick Brooks in the head with the Enziguiri, but Brooks ducked that, as well! With Dunn facing away, Brooks dropped the foot, and hooked the waist... and dropped Dunn directly on his head, with a HUGE release German suplex!]

Bowie: "Paige is down! Dunn's down! Brooks is on FIYAH~!"

Hazen: "But Brooks ain't done yet!"

[Brooks helped Paige to his feet... Then stuffed the head and dropped Paige almost on the crown of his head with a HUGE powerbomb! Paige's head snapped off the canvas, eyes rolling in his head, and Brooks grabbed the leg, moving to roll Paige up to try and pin...]

[But Dunn was rising! As Brooks let go, Dunn came to his feet, and Brooks charged in, going for a big clothesline! Dunn hooked the arm, and bent it, keeping Brooks from taking advantage of his momentum... Brooks fired a knee into Dunn's stomach... And Dunn retaliated in kind! The two hammered one another, until Dunn staggered backwards, letting go of Brooks!]

Hazen: "What a series of knees!"

Bowie: "Look at Paige! He's gotten enough time to recover..."

Hazen: "Brooks goes charging after Dunn, but Paige picks the ankle! Brooks goes face-first to the mat!"

[And as soon as Brooks went down, Paige came up, hooking that leg up real, real tight! Bending it backwards, Paige cinched the single leg crab on, twisting backwards as he did it. Trying to hyperextend the knee, Paige yanked and twisted and cranked on the knee, cinching that hold in...]

Hazen: "Paige showing his picture-perfect grappling skills..."

Bowie: "And Dunn's really hammering on Brooks with boots! This is a bad spot for our boy!"

[Brooks, locked in the hold, managed to slowly, so painfully slowly, get to the ring ropes, and threw his arms around the bottom one. As Brooks gripped tight to the bottom rope, the ref slapped Paige on the shoulder. "LEGGO OF THE HOLD!" Paige shot to his feet, fire in his eyes, as he got right in the ref's face!]

[Paige turned, hoisting Brooks back to his feet, shooting Dunn a dirty look. Dunn just leaned on the top rope, eying Paige, as Paige hooked the head, and snapped back, nearly breaking Brooks in half with a snap suplex! As Paige came to his feet, Dunn charged, wanting to turn this Paige appreciation night around! Going for a running forearm, Dunn's eyes widened as Paige stepped forward, and ducked! Hooking the waist, Paige straightened, flipping Dunn overhead to land, back first, on Brooks in a senton!]

Hazen: "Paige is five moves ahead of both guys! The advantage being the champion brings with it!"

Bowie: "And Paige is looking heated..."

[Paige turned, alive with heat and energy, and leapt into the air, coming down with ALL of his weight and ALL of his hate, stomping directly on Dunn's stomach, with Brooks still sandwiched beneath!]

Hazen: "DOUBLE STOMP! DOUBLE STOMP ON DUNN AND BROOKS!"

[With Dunn down, Paige hoisted Brooks to his feet... and cinched him up quick with a cravat! Gripping on the head, Paige doubled Brooks over with that head hold! Brooks managed to get his arms together, and try to whip Paige off to the ropes... But as Paige ran, he didn't let go of that cravat!]

Bowie: "Paige's really working that cravat over! I remember holding one of those on someone for a good five minutes straight! It's a REALLY effective hold!"

[Dunn rolled to the ropes, holding his stomach, as Paige hoisted Brooks up. Turning, Paige flipped Brooks through the air with a Cravat snapmare, dropping Brooks to the mat! As soon as Brooks got back to his knees... Paige hooked on the cravat once more!]

Hazen: "And Paige is really trying to keep Brooks from getting any momentum together, and keep him in holds!"

[As Brooks came up, Paige cinched in the cravat, forcing Brooks back down to his knees! With a yank, Paige got Brooks doubled over, and hooked his leg around Brooks' arm, twisting it for a standing armbar... But Brooks hooked the leg better than Paige hooked the arm, and Brooks began to stand, lifting Paige right off his feet!]

Hazen: "Brooks breaking the hold! Paige can't hold on with Brooks lifting him and screwing up his balance!"

[As Brooks lifted, Paige was forced to let go... So as Paige broke the hold, Brooks hooked the chest, and popped the hips, tossing Paige with a belly-to-belly! Paige hit with a thud, and Brooks bounced back to his feet, wanting to take advantage of this breaking of Paige's momentum...]

[CRACK! SUPERKICK!]

Hazen: "WHAT A SUPERKICK FROM DUNN!"

Bowie: "Brooks is DOWN!"

[Dunn grinned, and slipped to the slowly-rising Paige, hooking the waist... and a ring-shaking German suplex planted Paige right back down! Paige moved to crumple in a heap, but Dunn bridged, balancing on his head as he cinched that waistlock tighter, holding on real strong to the German, trying for a pin!]

Bowie: "IS DUNN GOING TO TAKE THE WORLD TITLE?!"

Hazen: "PAIGE'S HOOKED FOR A PIN!"

"ONE!"

[Brooks was down still, from the Superkick!]

[The ref was willing to count the three!]

"TWO!"

[DRAMA!]

"NO! NO! TWO ONLY!"

[Paige managed to kick out, and Dunn just rose, grinning. A finger slowly pointed skyward... It was obvious who Dunn considered to be the better man, this evening. Turning, Dunn stepped over to a turnbuckle, and began to unlace the top pad...]

[The ref's protests went unanswered, and Dunn soon tossed the pad into the audience at the Garden. A big grin on his face, Dunn turned, and scooped Brooks up, dragging him back to his feet. Over to the turnbuckle Brooks went, and then... KERTHUD! The turnbuckle's metal bolt met flesh, Brooks' forehead slamming into the steel!]

[But Dunn wasn't done. Brooks was brought back and hammered down, into the turnbuckle once more! And again, and again, Brooks' head hit like an overripe melon, until Brooks dropped to his knees, a stream of blood washing down Brooks' chin! Dunn smirked, and pushed gently, Brooks falling onto his back, in a heap.]

Hazen: "Brooks might have a concussion after that..."

Bowie: "We're seeing these guys try everything they can, and they're not even going for pinfalls every time! I think Dunn and Paige want to hurt the other two, temporary alliances be damned!"

[Turning, Dunn sauntered over to Paige, hoisting him to his feet, and dragged Paige over to the corner... As Dunn went to slam Paige's head into the turnbuckle, Paige grabbed the top rope, not wanting to hit that bolt! Dunn tried to hammer Paige's forehead into the buckle once more, and Paige not only stopped himself, but hammered an elbow into Dunn's stomach!]

[Dunn staggered backwards, and Paige snapped out a palm strike, taking Dunn down! Paige's eyes wide, a cry of martial fury let out as he stood over the fallen Dunn!]

[Paige then bent, grabbing Dunn's ankles, lifting those feet... hooking the thighs, Paige fell backwards, and Dunn was catapulted forward, to slam, sternum-first, into that turnbuckle!]

Hazen: "Paige with the wheelbarrow toss! This is exactly the kind of opportunity Paige needed to win!"

[Indeed, Paige slipped up behind Dunn, as Dunn choked, clutching at his chest, and rolled Dunn up, trying for a schoolboy pin! As Dunn's shoulders hit the mat, Paige grabbed the leg, trying to keep Dunn down... But Dunn kicked out at two! Never one to leave well enough alone, Paige dropped a knee on the prone Dunn's chest, then, getting back to his feet, leapt into the air, dropping a huge knee on Dunn's chest!]

Hazen: "Paige with a flurry of knees! He's going to the ropes..."

[As Paige came running back, he leapt into the air, dropping a huge knee on Dunn's chest! With Dunn down, Paige hooked the leg, trying for another pin! The ref slid in, and Paige grinned! THIS would be a real pin, and end it!]

"ONE!"

[Brooks was stirring on the other side of the ring...]

"TWO~!"

[But would he get to the two in time?]

[Maybe?]

[NO!]

[YES! Brooks drops the elbow on Paige's head at two and a half!]

"ONLY TWO!"

[Brooks grabbed Paige's hair, and tossed Paige over the top, to the mat below! Grabbing a hold of Dunn, Brooks yanked him up, and shoved Dunn off, into the ring corner. Brooks hammered a right into Dunn's chest... Then a left, then an elbow to the jaw, a step-up Enziguiri kick to the temple! Dunn slumped back, and Brooks came back up, bleeding but fired up!]

Hazen: "Brooks has the waistlock... And seats Dunn on the top rope!"

Bowie: "I think Brooks is going for his rarely-used secondary finisher!"

[Climbing up behind Dunn, Brooks helped Dunn up, to his feet, standing on the top rope... Hooking the sleeper, Brooks turned, and leapt backwards... BOTH MEN COMING CRASHING DOWN! The Sleeper Hold Drop, and Dunn nearly shot a good ten feet into the air, upon impact!]

Hazen: "SOUTHERN RAISED! SOUTHERN RAISED! BROOKS WITH HIS SOUTHERN RAISED!"

Bowie: "Can Brooks get the pin?!"

[Brooks hooked the leg, and McMulligan rolled in to count the pin...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

[Paige, coming to his feet on the outside, screamed, and grabbed McMulligan's foot, yanking him out of the ring! Diving back in under the bottom rope, Paige scrambled to Brooks, and fired off a flurry of blows! Brooks, as he sat up, was rocked with rights and lefts, Paige hammering Brooks with a furious combo of fists!]

Hazen: "PAIGE STOLE BROOKS' WIN!"

Bowie: "A smart, smart move!"

[Brooks was hoisted to his feet, and snapped back down with a clothesline! Back up again, and an elbow to the jaw sent Brooks back! An elbow to the forehead, to the stomach, and to the back of the head sent Brooks to his knees, and Paige hit the ropes, coming dashing back to knee Brooks in the face!]

[Paige hoisted Brooks, and hammered a boot into his stomach. With a shout, Paige drew a thumb across his throat, and bent, hooking Brooks' waist! Flipping Brooks up as he straightened, Paige held Brooks in the powerbomb position! Legs quivered and Paige straightened his back, a grunt of exertion! Brooks' legs kicked, and thrashed...]

Hazen: "Paige can't get enough for the Paige Turner!"

Bowie: "I think he's got enough for something anyway!"

[WHAM, Brooks landed in a normal Gutwrench powerbomb! Paige came to his feet, and threw his arms out to each side, before he turned... Seeing Dunn on his feet. The two glared at one another, eyes speaking volumes of hatred...]

Hazen: "Paige helping Brooks up..."

Bowie: "I don't like this, they both remind me of sharks right now..."

[And as Brooks came to his feet, Paige dropped to his knees. As Brooks looked down, Dunn watching on curiously, Paige HAMMERED Brooks in the crotch with an elbow! Brooks' eyes shot wide, hands cupping his battered crotch, and Brooks nearly dropped, instead slowly staggering around, to look behind him...]

[And Dunn dropped to his knees, just as Brooks' hands moved. A fist pounded outward, punching Brooks squarely in the crotch! The HRW wrestler gave a cry of agony, hands clamping to his crotch once more, hobbling slowly back around...]

[And Paige dropped to his back, hammering a boot into Brooks' hands and his crotch! Brooks' guard was shattered, and he went as if to fall, but slowly turned behind himself, to find somewhere appropriate to drop to his knees, then to his face...]

[And Dunn lashed out, on hands and knees, hammering the crown of his head into Brooks' junk! Brooks finally collapsed, and Paige stood, slowly pointing to his opponent du jour, Dunn, clapping softly. He beckoned to the fans, trying to tell them to give it up for that competitor he had been off-and-on fighting tonight.]

Bowie: "Would you look at that trash fly!"

Hazen: "The fans are NOT appreciative of that little interchange!"

Bowie: "I have to think, the only reason that they weren't disqualified is because they both were doing it.. And the rules are relaxed!"

[As Paige turned back around, Dunn hammered a boot into Paige's stomach! Hooking the head, Dunn scooped Paige up for the vertical reverse suplex, wanting that Osaka Street Cutter... But Paige kicked, and landed on his own feet! Falling backwards, Paige hit the ropes, and charged forward, leaping into the air and hooking the head...]

Bowie: "TORNADO DDT!"

Hazen: "NOT JUST ANY TORNADO DDT, THAT WAS MY TIME!"

Bowie: "Blasier's old finisher!"

[The WWA Champ hooked the leg, trying for a pin, but Dunn managed to break free at two... Rolling to his stomach, Dunn wrapped an arm around his head as Paige came back to his feet. Paige bent, hooking that waistlock for the gutwrench, but Dunn shoved Paige off!]

Hazen: "Paige sent to the ropes, as Dunn comes to his feet..."

Bowie: "I guess Paige isn't very good at doing other people's finishers!"

Hazen: "If they work so well for others, why not for him, right?"

[Paige came rushing in, as Dunn went low... And Paige dropped to his knees, skidding up, and slamming a fist into Dunn's throat! Dunn staggered backwards, clutching his neck, as Paige came back to his feet! Grinning, Paige threw his arms out, and turned, to go for the ropes once more...]

Bowie: "BROOKS IS UP!"

Hazen: "Somehow!"

Bowie: "He's got Paige hooked for the Northern Pedigree!"

[Paige's leg and shoulder were both hooked up tight, but Paige began to hammer elbows into Brooks' temple, sending Brooks staggering off... An elbow to the stomach, and Brooks dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach!]

Bowie: "Paige tosses Dunn over the top!"

Hazen: "Dunn tumbles to the floor... Paige wants to end this! He's taking the straps down!]

[Paige hammered a boot into Brooks' stomach, hooking the waist and stuffing the head... Lifting Brooks, Paige leapt, and dropped Brooks with a piledriver! Brooks' leg spasmed, as Paige bounced back up, signaling that, once and for all, he was gonna end this with the Final Paige! Turning to the fallen Brooks, Paige scooped Brooks up, and hooked the head for the DDT... But as Paige went to drop back...]

[Brooks wouldn't go! Brooks waistlocked Paige, and began to rotate, trying to throw Paige off of him, but Paige wouldn't let go, and Brooks wouldn't give in!]

Hazen: "Here comes Dunn!"

Bowie: "And... HE'S GOING FOR A LOW BLOW ON BROOKS!"

Hazen: "Poor, poor Brooks..."

[The forearm slammed between Brooks' legs, and the ref, finally tired of all this shit, came charging in, and kicked Dunn right between the uprights! Dunn screamed, as he dropped, as Paige came up... and down, dropping Brooks with the DDT!]

Bowie: "Leg Waistlock! He's got the bodyscissors and the guillotine! Can Brooks do anything but tap?!"

[The answer to that...]

[Was yes. And the answer is "Be choked out." The arm was lifted, and dropped three times, and Brooks was called out. The ref signaled for the bell.]

WINNER: DAVID PAIGE AT 40:30 VIA FINAL PAIGE

[Paige came up, grabbing that WWA World Heavyweight Championship belt away from the ref as he handed it over. Helping Dunn to his feet, Paige threw that hand with the belt in it skyward, grinning like the sun had just broken on a cloudy day. The gold glimmered in Paige's hand, as he looked to the ceiling of MSG.]

[Needless to say, the two were getting booed out of the building, the boos and chants of "BULL-SHIT! BULL-SHIT!" were echoing from one side of the building to the other, an uproarious chant that could be heard anywhere in MSG.]

[Hazen stood, taking up the mike.]

"YOUR WINNER... AND STIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL WORLD WRESTLING ALLIANCE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION... DAVID PAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGE!"

[Hazen sat, shaking his head in disgust.]

Hazen: "Well, Brooks won his Prestige title back, and got HRW's honor back, but what a screw job to end the whole thing..."

Bowie: "Paige was just smarter tonight... And I doubt that these fans would accept anything other than a decisive pin or tap out or KO. A DQ? No WAY."

Hazen: "Well, that's it. Paige and Dunn are leaving, and HRW staff is on its way out to help Paige. I think we're going backstage for a word from a few wrestlers before the Crown of War itself..."

The Time Is Near
Cobra

[The World title match has just ended and the crowd was filled with excitement and anticipation for the main event battle royal. As the ring is being cleaned and cleared and right before the next set of promos run on the big screen, there is a commotion coming from the 300s that draws the attention of the rest of the crowd.]

[As everyone turns to face the noise, a group of identically dressed men, each dressed in dark green robes, all stand up in section 326. They then file onto the concourse and start to walk around the arena chanting.]

Serpentalists: The Serpent Saves Us All! The Serpent Saves Us All! The Serpent Saves Us All!

[The group of robed men make it only about a third of the way around the arena before a group of security guards stop them. After a couple of moments where the two groups are in a stalemate, one of the robed men break free and turns towards the lower sections.]

Individual: The time is near! The final battle is upon us! Jormungand is here! Repent to the serpent god! The Serpent Saves Us All!

[The individual is tackled by one of the security men and the group is pushed through one of the gates.]

Serpentalists: The Serpent Saves Us All! The Serpent Saves Us All! The Serpent Saves…

[The crowd starts to murmur as the incident is now over and the arena is silent. The promo package starts up on the screen with hometown star, HRW's very own Cobra sitting on a chair in his locker room. He is in full wrestling attire, consisting of a full body suit with the design of snake scales on it. He has already secured his Luche Libre style wrestling mask to his head. He is busy tightening and tying his wrestling boot. He stops and looks up at the camera.]

Cobra: Well hello, MSG.

[Cobra waits to continue as he hears the faint sound of the hometown pop from the crowd. After it dies down a bit, he continues.]

Cobra: The time has come. No more planning. No more talking. The big main event is finally here. 28 men including myself all ready to fight it out for a shot at the WWA world title. For me, it'll be my third time shooting for this chance. All of which have come in the last two months.

Three tries. Not many people get that lucky enough to get three tries, let alone one. But three. That's an accomplishment all in itself. One that no one really wants. Who wants to be guy that just gets the chances and does nothing with it? Who wants to be the Terry Woods of the world? No I don't want to be the guy known for getting the tries. I want to be the guy that's known for winning the title.

In just a few minutes, I'll be heading into what very well may be my last try at getting a shot for the title. It's do or die for me. Lose, and I'll be known as that guy that had all those chances and never did anything with it. Win, and I get a chance to erase everything that I've come up short on in the last two months. I'll be the number one contender, one that this time no one will question. I'll have my title shot. And I'll just be one match away from joining the prestigious ranks of World champions.

For me there really is no choice. I must win this match. And that's exactly what I'm about to do.

[Cobra stands up and leaves the frame of the camera leaving it to film an empty chair in an empty locker room.]

You Ready?
CHIMERA

[Curtis is up, pacing his room, and throwing a few punches to loosen up. He wipes his mouth, he doesn't want to walk out of the ring with vomit on his face.]

[A knock bangs on his door.]

"Penn… You ready?"

[Curtis walks over and snatches the door open.]

Penn: Fuck yeah… Let's destroy these bastards.

[There is a smile on Penn's face that he hasn't presented us with yet, it's full and mischievous.]

Smith: Good, then let's go and show them that CHIMERA is all about beating that ass.

Penn: Parker, tonight it's about Curtis Penn showing Victor that I'm not a second pick… that he should have picked me first. I'm going to wreck these guys.

[The ring announcer is introducing the next match, Crown of War, naming off the participants. They make it to the staging area.]

Smith: See you after the match… Make it a long wait.

Penn: You better go and take a nap old man, you ain't seeing me for a bit… I'm running this shit.

[Parker and Penn break ways. Penn, waits for his moment to walk out to the ring.]

Thank You
Angel of Death

[Angel of Death is pacing back and forth in his locker room. He is changed and ready for the Crown of War match, at least, physically he's ready. Mentally however, well, let's just say he's had a lot to think about since that ill-fated phone call.]

AOD: "I don't always listen to what I'm told? What exactly does he mean by that? You don't suppose that he legitimately believes in my chances at winning this thing? Can't be. Because if that's true, then he wasn't lying about not holding me back. The evidence for that is in black and white. I win a title shot, he makes me wait for the match. When he makes the match, it's not one on one, and I somehow come out on the wrong end of things. Except that I didn't come out on the wrong end of things when the Nailbat was on the line. I did in the Manhattan Island Title match, but I can't exactly say that I was entirely focused on Griffith or The Notch. I had my mind elsewhere in that match. Have I been painted the victim so many times that I've begun to believe my own hype?"

[He pauses, struggling with the idea.]

AOD: "Have I been so obsessed with McCullough and the illusion of being held back that I've held myself back? Has it been me this whole time? Nailbat, Manhattan Island Championship, neither of those things should matter right now. Yet they've been in the forefront of my mind lately. It's been my own short-sightedness that's been keeping me preoccupied, and not able to get the job done. I'm better than this. I've been away from here too long, got too complacent, too comfortable in my other surroundings. My name has adorned championships in the WWA before. Granted, neither of them are still active championships, but times change. I've been in this business too long to have allowed something so tiny, so trivial get in my way. I need to make a big splash in the WWA once more, and goddammit, Crown of War is a great way to do it!

[His pace quickens as his mind opens to all of the possibilities he's been ignoring these past few months.]

AOD: "I've got to get out there tonight, and win or lose, I've got to show everyone that I'm back, and I'm here to stay. I've got to go out there and do what I do best, and that's fight. Yes WWA, you heard correctly, Angel of Death has returned. I'm going out there, and I'm going to give everything I've got. When the dust settles, whether I'm Warlord or not, I've got to make sure I apply the same determination to my matches in HRW. Thank you, Finn McCullough. Thank you for opening my eyes once again. World Wrestling Alliance, my time has come. Don't say I didn't warn you, any of you.

[He pounds the lockers in front of him before heading out of the locker room, on his way to the Crown of War match.]

The End
The Conspiracy

[Cut.]

[Ah, the victors. The spoils, of course, go to them. It feels great to be a winner.]

[But we're not talking about them right now. Right now, it's all about the losers. And there were no bigger losers tonight than the Conspiracy.]

[Mere minutes before their scheduled tag team title defense against the Faces of Death, "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors ran out on them, and on the World Wrestling Alliance. He did so without saying so much as one word to the champions. Someday, they'll find out why he did it. And they are going to be PISSED.]

[With that weighing heavy on their minds--well, on Deacon's mind, anyway--the Conspiracy went out to the ring for their match against the Faces of Death. And they, in the words of Trevor Ratigan, "got their shit kicked in."]

[That's why, right now, Deacon looks like someone just shot his dog. He sits in a metal folding chair, slouching forward.]

Dale: We're screwed. We are so completely screwed.

[It doesn't take a genius to figure out the reason for his mood. After all, he and his tag team partner had just been abandoned by "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors. Their manager. Their leader. The guy who found them when they were at their lowest point, and turned them into champions.]

[Gone. Just like their titles.]

Dale: What are we supposed to do now?

Ratigan: Now? Now you have a beer, Sally McMarypants.

[T.J. Ratigan looks much worse...at least, physically. He's lying on a bench with an ice bag under his back and a cold can of Natty Ice against a large bump on his head. There are four or five more cans, all empty, lying nearby.]

Dale: Fuck off, T.J. I'm not in the mood.

Ratigan: What? What the fuck is your deal?

Dale: My deal is that our boss--you know, the guy who helped us get those belts in the first place--is gone! Left us high and dry, right before a match! Never mind the fact that he's the one who handled all of our business decisions! And now we've got to make our way without him! "Gentlemen, I don't believe you will have to worry about that."

[Ah, it's the ever-popular mystery speaker! Deacon, Trevor, and the camera all swing toward the door, to see who just spoke. It's...]

[It's...]

[...some guy that none of us have ever seen before. Normally, he'd get a description...but let's be honest. You're never going to see him again.]

Dale: Who are you?

Ratigan: Someone who doesn't know how to knock. I coulda been butt naked back here, you know.

Man: I am thankful for that. I'm here on behalf of Old Line Wrestling. I have something for you.

[He holds out a pair of envelopes, addressed to each member of the Conspiracy. Deacon tosses one of them over to Trevor, then opens his own.]

Dale: A check? What for?

Man: Your severance package.

[...] Dale &

Ratigan: WHAT?!

Man: It's not a complete package, since you were never technically employees of Old Line Wrestling. But we felt that, with your performance as World Tag Team Champions, it was the least we could do.

Dale: You're firing us? What for?

Ratigan: This isn't because I was downloading porn in the office, was it? 'Cause I can totally explain.

Man: No, no. It's just that, with Wyatt Connors gone, you no longer have any official ties...and we don't believe it would be cost-effective to offer you a contract. We just don't believe the Conspiracy can draw without Connors.

Ratigan: Horse shit. This is total fucking horse shit.

Man: Considering that we didn't even need to offer you severance, I believe OLW has been more than fair. Good evening, gentlemen.

[And with that, he exits...leaving Deacon Dale and Trevor Ratigan to ponder their fate.]

[At first, Deacon is simply in shock. But soon, that shock turns into anger. And a resolve made of steel.]

Dale: You know what we have to do now, don't you?

Ratigan: What?

Dale: We have to find him. And we have to make him pay.

Ratigan: You're kidding, right? He's probably in fucking Brazil already.

[Dale's lip curls into a snarl.]

Dale: We'll find him. We've done it before.

[And on that rather ominous note, we depart. As do the Conspiracy.]

[Cut.]

Finally
Malik Johnson

"The stage is set."

I really don't know why, but these pathetic fools entered into this Crown of War match are all racing around like they have already captured the win.

"GEC."

Those guys in Rome have come to represent like hell. They are tough group. Some of them even mystical.

"AWA."

Guys from my home fed, from the dirty, dirty. Most of them would kick their mother's ass to get a win. Who knows what in the hell will happen in this match.

"HRW."

A lot of hot air from that bunch. Over rated group of jack holes if you ask me, but none of you ever bother to ask.

"WCWA."

Rag tag group of misfits from never-never land. Wonder if Vince sleeps with his boys that come to visit.....

"NSWA."

Still waiting to see what they are all about. Maybe someone from there will impress me. It wouldn't take much with the bunch that's in this thingy.

"OLW."

Online, but for what. One has been in Python, and the only bright light on the team.....Jeff Andrews. They must be running the keep hope alive banner.

"WWA Executive Choices."

Penn found out, he wasn't really pick, he was suggested after the guy that was picked turned it down.

"DAMN, that's got to be a bummer."

Sam Horrey, must be in a hurry, to get his ass handed to him, and return home in a fury, because everyone finally finds out, he's not worth a damn.

"That's one guy, who couldn't fight his way out of an automated gate."

I remember someone else, oh yea Devins. I guess that's why I forgot so easily.

"Finally!"

What the WWA fans truly want to see. Someone with charisma, aggression, and attitude.

"Me, Malik Johnson."

"The bastard son of the WWA."

Yea, they have held me back for years, but screw the past. I'm making good on the present.

"The loud mouth of the alliance."

"The one that you didn't think would ever make to the big show."

Someone on the executive board knows talent when they see it.

"I'm here, I'm ready, I'm down."

They don't know what in the hell they have done.

"I'm addicted."

It's all good with me. I've been waiting on this.

"Addicted to kicking people's ass."

What a better way, don't you think.

"Nothings better than having a whole bunch of bitch boys, to fuck up."

It's time to wreck shop.

"They will never let us back in New York after tonight."

That shit is on the real.

Killing Time
Sergeiev Bogorovich

[The lights in the Faces of Death's locker room were out. The tag team itself wasn't back from their match. The sound of pitter-pattering feet in the room, meant that Cat was out of his kitty carrier. Mousing, hunting to see if he could make sure that MSG's rodent population stayed low.]

[Serbo knelt in a circle of light, head bowed. He had his "CHOOSE DEATH" shirt hung over his head, as a crude towel, to shut out the whole wide world. Fists pressed into the ground, one knee bent and pressed to the ground, the other knee bent, foot flat on the floor. He had his fighting trunks on, and was all set.]

[He just needed to psyche himself up.]

"Three men at a time fighting you, for at least 30 minutes...", he mumbled.

"They will show no mercy. Neither will you. Fight hard. Strike harder. Prove to them and the whole world you are worthy.", Serbo said, mostly under his breath...

"Are you?"

[Eyes were squeezed shut, and the kitty purr'p'd, as he came wandering out of the darkness. Serbo sensed his presence, and looked up, to the cat. Cat stood before Serbo, fluffy tail in the air.]

"Am I?"

[Cat sat down, tail tip flicking some.]

"I am a good fighter... But am I really the best? When not driven by rage, when not able to pinpoint someone's weaknesses... Do I have the killer instinct?"

[Cat flicked his ear some.]

"I worry about this. I was made to be the ultimate fighting machine, but then... Why has it taken me so long to get my shot at the WWA title?"

[Cat began to industriously bite at one of his claws, ensuring its cleanliness.]

"If I was made to be such an unstoppable machine, why am I not the AWA champion, at least? Why have I not simply demanded a title match, and gotten it?"

[The feline's tail tip flicked some, as he cleaned his footie.]

"I can beat almost anyone. So why have I gotten so few accolades?"

[The shirt slipped from Serbo's head, to pool on the floor.]

"Why am I not the most valued wrestler in the WWA?"

[Cat looked up, ears flattening. Serbo's voice was raising.]

"Why have I not been given a shot at anything yet? I have never seen the Double Crown title. I was not invited to the fight over who mattered in the Double Crown hunt!"

[The cat stood up, backing a step away. Serbo fell back to his knees, eyes widening, fists clenched.]

"What the hell's going on here?!"

[Cat turned, and tried to slink into the darkness, but the Russian Superman sprang to his feet, throwing a finger out at the feline.]

"The main event scene is emptier than it ever has been before! The legends have all left, or died! I want to know who is using their fucking brain, and not allowing me the single shot I ask for?!"

[The feline obediently slunk back to sit near Serbo, ears back, obviously frightened some, as the Russian thundered and raged.]

"All that is left is us! The new children! Those whose careers have been born after 2000! I don't understand it!"

[Cat tried to slink forward, and rub against Serbo's shin.]

"I don't know what the hell they do this for, but I want to know just what they're thinking this for!"

[The Russian dropped to his knees, visibly deflated, as the feline purred and did figure-eights around Serbo's shins. Now that he knelt, Cat came forward to rub his head against Serbo's stomach. It was the first time Serbo had cursed in a long time...]

[Serbo's hands flattened to the floor, as he pressed them there with a slap. He squeezed his eyes shut, and gasped softly for air.]

"Perhaps... they know that I am flawed. Incomplete... Not the perfect fighter I was supposed to be..."

"There's a hole in my training. It renders me useless..."

[Serbo sat back, hand pressed to his face, as he shook once.]

"I am a broken puppet. Useless."

[Cat purred, as Serbo let out a sigh. He had lied to the world, many times. Serbo was supposed to only feel one emotion. Rage.]

[But Serbo actually felt a few, aside from feelings... like cold, warmth, pain...]

[Serbo felt fear. Serbo felt self-doubt. He even felt self-loathing.]

"I will not go out there to lose, Cat. I will not go out there to win."

[He pulled his hand away from his face. The mask was back on. Emotions had been tamped down, and Serbo was soaring once more, the Russian Superman back in full steel.]

"I will go out there to hurt everyone in my way, and if I happen to kill my way to a win... So be it."

[Cat meowed. He wanted to be petted, now that the mood swing was over.]

[Serbo blinked, and began to stroke Cat's back, just as the locker room door opened, bathing the room in light. Splenda stood in the doorway, Nicky and Kengoro behind him.]

"Mayne, what're you doin' on the floor?"

[Serbo rose, as Cat scampered back towards his cat carrier.]

"Killing time."

[Serbo pushed past the three men, to head down the hallway.]

"Wait, were you killin' time, o' is it killin' time? Serbo? SERBO! HEY!"

[Serbo vanished.]

Main Event
Crown Of War

[The match was heralded by all of the participants making their way to the ring in an abbreviated fashion. That didn't stop the fans for cheering and booing their favorites and their most hated wrestlers as they came out. It had been determined before the match that the four to start off this battle of epic proportions would be The Freak Himself, Jake Devins, Crazy Joker, and Simon Sensation. And so, the men stood in the middle of the ring, awaiting the sound of the bell to begin their ascendancy to immortality.]

[Freak and Joker squared off, as The Assassin went after Sensation. Jake Devins managed to get an early advantage with a lariat and began to work his technical prowess on Sensation to hopefully get an early tap. Meanwhile, Freak has gotten the upper hand on Joker, putting his boots to Joker's face with a colossal dropkick. The four men would go back and forth and switch between each other before Jake Devins rocked Sensation with a huge Superkick while he was against the ropes, spilling him over the top. Sensation named GEC elite Rick Royson, and the MMA master slid into the ring.]

[By this time, Devins had already put himself in between Freak and Joker, working on the former. Devins had a slight size advantage and exploited that as much as he could, hammering down on Freak with a series of devastating blows and maneuvers. Royson, on the other hand, proving that he wasn't in this match to fool around, immediately took Joker down to the mat, and locked him up in his Rolling Thunder omoplata submission until he tapped furiously. Joker rolled out of the ring and named HRW's Notch.]

[Notch slid in and noticed the battling Devins and Freak in the corner, with Freak having the advantage now as he punished him with chops and blows in the corner. Notch took the opportunity to rush Freak with a clothesline, dumping him over the top. Freak named alliance newcomer Q-Ball, who slid in and began pounding away at Notch.]

[Meanwhile, Royson and Devins had seemed to take a liking to each other, battling back and forth before Royson delivered a devastating kick to Devins' head, crumpling him like a ton of bricks. Royson would work Devins over some more while Notch rallied back in an attempt to stay alive, but it proved to be in vain. Royson eliminated Devins and Notch was done in by Q-Ball at the same time. Notch named Brimstone and Devins named Dan Easton.]

Hazen: "Into the ring slides Dan Easton, looking like he's psyched and ready..."

Bowie: "And here comes that big lug, Brimstone! This's gonna be great!"

[Easton and Brimstone rose, glancing to one another, then to Q-Ball and Rick Royson, the successful duo whom had just eliminated the men who had chosen Brimmy and Easton. The big monster in the ring eyed the other three men, who glanced to one another... Then all charged Brimstone!]

Hazen: "The biggest man in a battle royale always, ALWAYS ends up being the biggest target!"

[Brimstone was shoved back, hands and fists raining down on the big bruiser. Easton hammered a foot into Brimmy's gut, doubling the monster over... And Royson came flying in to shoulder-tackle Brimstone in the head!]

Bowie: "Ooh! If ya mess with the head enough, anybody will end up putty in your hands!"

Hazen: "As well you know. I remember that... what, year where you used at least three brainbusters in a row before you tried for your finisher?"

Bowie: "Aw, you REMEMBERED!"

[Brimstone was stomped by the three men left in the ring, Royson taking a step back, then dropping a huge elbow on Brimstone's sternum! As Brimstone spasmed, Easton pushed Royson aside, and dropped a huge elbow of his own! Q-Ball stepped in...]

[And Easton stepped back, hammering a boot into the side of Q-Ball's head! The Ball staggered, and fell into the ropes, Easton taking the opportunity to try and eliminate Q-Ball! A Euro uppercut staggered the NSWA wrestler, as Royson hammered boots and stomps into Brimstone's head and shoulder.]

Hazen: "Easton firing off a flurry of European uppercuts, and a palm strike!"

Bowie: "But there he goes..."

[Easton went running across the ring, hitting the ropes... and as he came back, a running big boot hammers Q-Ball, right over the top rope!]

Hazen: "ELIMINATION!"

Bowie: "Who's he going to name? There are some big, big threats left in this..."

Hazen: "The GEC Heavyweight champion, the OLW Heavyweight Champion, the WCWA Heavyweight Champion... Nearly EVERY fed's top wrestler is vying for this World Heavyweight Championship shot!"

[The Mike-man came scrambling over, as the NSWA wrestler slowly got back to his feet, hand on his jaw. The wrestlers at ringside milled about restlessly, wanting to know who would enter next...]

"Johan De'Lovely!"

[And the OLW wrestler threw a hand upward, grinning triumphantly. He'd get his chance to make some scratch, and the bonus promised to the winner of the Crown of War!]

Hazen: "Here comes DeLovely... I don't know much about him, but I know that in a Battle Royale, any man's a threat!"

Bowie: "He's not that different from former HRW champion Jacobias Discordia, actually! The fans love him, but he's a really good brawler!"

Hazen: "How is he on head drops?"

Bowie: "Not my type."

[Easton and Royson both moved to Brimstone, Royson putting a foot on Brimmy's throat and leaning back, to try and choke the wind out of the biggest man in this thing! Easton turned, and hammered an elbow into Royson's jaw, startling the MMA fighter! As DeLovely came to his feet, Easton and Royson broke down into a brawl!]

Hazen: "Look at the grin on DeLovely's face! He's happy that this is turning into a slugfest!"

Bowie: "Watch Brimstone!"

[DeLovely came charging in, just as Royson hooked Easton's arm, trying to flip for the flying armbar! Brimstone rose, as DeLovely came in... And while the two weren't friends, they WERE fellow OLW guys... So, as Easton struggled to keep his arm bent, grabbing his own wrist, Brimstone came in, and grabbed Royson's waist, helping to lift the CHIMERA wrestler upwards!]

Hazen: "This is going to be a brutal powerbomb!"

[But, not quite done, DeLovely came running in, to leap, and drop an elbow on Royson's sternum... Just as Brimstone and Easton finally hammered Royson to the mat! The whole ring shook, and some of the wrestlers at ringside jumped away, as Royson was dropped like a bad habit!]

Bowie: "Wow! Royson looks like his lungs almost jumped out of his chest!"

Hazen: "Royson's got to be done!"

[Easton and DeLovely helped the battered Royson to his feet, as Brimstone shrunk back, hoping to get ignored to give himself a chance to recuperate... And Royson was tossed over the top... But the emissary from CHIMERA held on, spinning around the top rope!]

Hazen: "Maybe not! There's a lot of fight left in that guy!"

Bowie: "Impressive!"

[But Easton and DeLovely turned, hitting the ropes, only to come back and throw a flying knee into Royson's chest, knocking the CHIMERA grappler off the apron, to the mat! DeLovely sprang back up, fists pumping in the air, grinning as he waved to the fans!]

[Easton turned, and threw an arm, clotheslining DeLovely, nearly taking his head off! DeLovely dropped to the mat, clutching his neck, as Brimstone came lumbering over, taking Easton down with a huge brain chop!]

Hazen: "Royson took a lot to throw out.. Who's he going to pick to replace him?"

"Blake Samuels!"

Hazen: "...what?"

Bowie: "...Wow. Worst pick ever."

[Samuels had been standing at ringside, hoping against hope that he'd just... get ignored. Maybe he'd never even get picked! He had even debated climbing over the guardrail and sitting at ringside, hoping to just be a "fan".]

[But no. He sighed heavily, and slid into the ring... Brimstone, who was still standing, and DeLovely, who had gotten back to his feet, looked to one another, stomped Easton, and headed over.]

Hazen: "Samuels is trying to eliminate himself!"

Bowie: "Look at Royson! He's having a good old laugh as he leaves..."

[Samuels was caught by the back of his HRW t-shirt, and pulled fully back into the ring by Brimstone and DeLovely. DeLovely grinned, and gave a thumbs-up... so Brimstone bent, and GORILLA PRESSED SAMUELS! The manager-cum-wrestler screamed, and squeezed his eyes shut, hands clapped to his face...]

[And over the top rope Samuels went! A number of the lumberjacks actually caught Samuels, lowering him gently to the floor.]

Hazen: "And just that fast... Elimination."

Bowie: "I wonder who Samuels is going to pick!"

[The mike-man went running over, and held the mike out for Samuels. Slowly rising, Samuels pointed a shaky finger into the ring.]

"I was perfectly willing to just eliminate myself, and not be put into such danger! But you wrestlers had to push me, had to be jerks!"

Hazen: "He's gearing up for someone big."

"I may not be a wrestler, and might not have been a threat, but there's a friend of mine who is!"

Hazen: "Oh no."

Bowie: "Oh YES! I love this guy!"

Hazen: "We know Aaron Vasquez isn't involved in the Crown of War... Samuels subbed in for him, so that leaves one guy..."

[Samuels doubled over, eyes squeezing shut as he shrieked the following into the mike.]

"I PICK AS MY REPLACEMENT... SERGEIEV BOGOROVICH! SERBO!

Bowie: "Oh no."

[Brimstone and DeLovely turned, to the opposite side of the ring from Samuels. That was where the last known whereabouts of the Russian Superman had been. And lo and behold, the bald-headed, "CHOOSE DEATH"-emblazoned leader of the Faces of Death stood.]

[Serbo turned, and walked to the steel ring steps. Up the staircase he walked, and onto the apron. Barefoot, Serbo went under the top, and right into the ring. DeLovely charged, and Serbo spun, shin lashing out to crack into DeLovely's throat, taking DeLovely down with a vicious leg lariat!]

Bowie: "Drop him on his head! HIS HEAD!"

[Serbo walked right up to the biggest badass in the match, Brimstone, staring right into his face. Fists balled at Serbo's sides, as the Russian Superman bounced his weight from foot to foot. He specifically wished to call out the big man.]

"I know a man bigger than you. And he doesn't frighten me either."

[Brimstone roared, and brought a fist down on Serbo's head, but Serbo wasn't fazed! Right hand was thrown, cracking into Brimstone's jaw, right on the tip of the chin! Brimstone threw a right hand, sending Serbo back a step... and Serbo spun forward, hammering a foot into Brimstone's stomach!]

Hazen: "Easton's back up!"

[The former WCWA champ came flying from across the ring, hammering a knee into Brimstone's knee. As Brimstone dropped to a knee, Easton glanced to Serbo. The Russian watched the Bodybuilder, as Dan hooked Brimmy's arms for an attempted full nelson. Serbo turned, and as DeLovely came back up, Serbo lashed out with a roundhouse, cracking DeLovely in the jaw!]

Bowie: "Brimstone's powering out of the nelson!"

[As Easton tried to cinch in the Full Nelson, and Serbo lifted DeLovely back to his feet, Brimstone's face was steadily turning red. Not wanting to try and break the hold by breaking Easton's face, Brimstone just roared, and began to throw his arms downward, bulling out! Easton was forced to let go, and Brimstone whirled, hammering an elbow into Easton's face, sending him back into a ring corner.]

[Serbo, on the other hand, was firing off repeatedly with kicks to the chest, staggering DeLovely and sending him to the ropes... Hooking the arm, Serbo whipped DeLovely off... And dashed across the ring, to hammer a flying knee to the face, snapping DeLovely back down!]

[DeLovely was staggered, and as Serbo hooked the neck, sitting Johan up, DeLovely threw a single punch, only for Serbo to wrap his legs around DeLovely's neck, and lay back, choking the OLW superstar with his legs!]

[Brimstone turned, and shoved Easton off, against the ropes, as Serbo choked DeLovely... As the lumberjacks pounded on the ring apron, Serbo let go, grabbing a handful of DeLovely's hair... Up to his feet he was dragged, and over the top rope DeLovely was thrown!]

Hazen: "DeLovely's out!"

Bowie: "Who's he gonna pick?!"

[As Serbo headed over, hammering a stomp into the small of Brimstone's back, the mike-man came running over, to ask DeLovely who he wanted to have in...]

"Last guy picked somebody sure to make a splash..."

[Serbo hammered Brimstone with an elbow, then whipped him off. Easton charged in, hammering Brimstone with a knee to the stomach... And as Serbo came running in, Brimstone hooked the waist, lifted, and hammered Serbo down with a spinebuster!]

"Python!"

[The OLW Heavyweight Champion dove into the ring, fists clenched at his side as he came up to his feet, teeth gritted as he came into the Crown of War, all fired up!]

Hazen: "This doesn't bode well for anyone!"

Bowie: "Python's a tough draw to beat!"

[As Python came over, Easton was the man on his feet, in full control. Watching one another warily, Easton and Python ducked to deal with their respective men... Serbo for Python, and as Easton cinched up the armlock, Brimstone for Easton!]

[Easton turned, going for the over-the-top throw... But Brimstone grabbed the ropes, and held on tight, not letting Easton eliminate him!]

[Python snapped Serbo down, dropping him with a snap suplex, before Python came running over, to hammer a flying elbow into Brimstone's back! Brimstone staggered against the ring ropes, Easton taking a step back, and kneading his hands for a moment.]

Hazen: "Python's all for helping Easton... So long as the biggest guy in the ring gets tossed!"

Bowie: "But Python doesn't want to let Serbo get a chance... Smart! Serbo's going to be a threat if he isn't kept busy at all times..."

[Easton looked to the sold-out crowd in the Garden... And began to pump his hands skyward, palms upward! Eyes wide, Easton crouched, stalking Brimstone as Python hooked a reverse headlock on Serbo.]

Bowie: "HE'S GONNA SLAM HIM!"

Hazen: "I never had this kind of strength, but if you've got it, use it!"

[And as Brimstone turned, Easton ducked, and scooped Brimstone up for the scoop slam! Up and onto Easton's shoulder... And Brimstone went over the top, tumbling to the floor!]

Bowie: "THERE GOES BRIMMY!"

Hazen: "Out over the top! Python's not giving Serbo any room to breathe, but here comes Easton, wanting to go for a double elim!"

[As Brimstone came back to his feet, irritated and fired up, Easton hammered a stomp into Python's back, and Python let go of Bogorovich, only to turn into a stomp to the gut, a hook, and a butterfly suplex!]

[The mike-man came rushing over to Brimstone, who simply stood, looking around the ring.]

Hazen: "Brimstone's taking a good look, to see who would be the best to replace him..."

[As Easton hoisted Python, Serbo forced himself to his feet. The lumberjacks reached out, trying to grab at Serbo, but the Russian Superman stomped their hands. Easton whipped Python to the ropes, and charged in, hammering a rising European uppercut into Python's chest, sending Python into the turnbuckle.]

Bowie: "Python takes a HUGE knock, into the corner!"

[Easton bent, scooping Python up onto his shoulder... And as Easton turned, trying for a running powerslam... Serbo came flying from the other side of the ring, only to spike Easton in the face with a huge running knee!]

Hazen: "WHAT A KNEE!"

[Brimstone snapped his fingers, and pointed to Serbo's fellow AWA competitor, Sam "The Man" Horrey.]

"You. Horrey."

Bowie: "Next up is Sam Horrey! This could be real bad for the men in the ring!"

[Serbo turned, as Horrey climbed into the ring, absentmindedly stomping Python in the forehead. Horrey and Serbo locked eyes for a moment, the two facing off, for perhaps the first real time.]

Hazen: "Horrey, one of the top dogs in the AWA, and Serbo, one of the most bandied-about names in the WWA!"

Bowie: "I love his stable. And his finisher. They hurt people so good. Mmm."

[Horrey passed Serbo by, to go and stomp Python, as Bogorovich hoisted Easton to his feet, whipping him off to the ropes. Serbo hooked Easton as soon as he returned, before spinning, and tossing Easton with a belly to belly! Horrey just snarled, shoving Python into the corner of the ring.]

Hazen: "Python taking a beating in the corner!"

Bowie: "Python's getting knocked around like he was a kid and Horrey was his disciplinarian!"

Hazen: "Surprised you knew that word."

Bowie: "Horrey wants to make this the night that he steps back up to the main event!"

Hazen: "Dodging the subject..."

[Python was whipped from ring corner to ring corner, with Horrey following like a freight train, hammering a huge clothesline, rocking Python's world! Arm hooked the neck, and Horrey leapt forward, slamming Python into the mat head-first, with a bulldog!]

[Serbo, on the other hand, had lifted Easton into a vertical suplex... And was holding it, keeping Easton elevated upward, the blood rushing to his head! Horrey crouched, watching Serbo for a moment, only to shake his head. Lifting Python to his feet, Horrey hooked a tight handful of hair, pointing over the top rope...]

Bowie: "Serbo's spinning!"

Hazen: "Indeed! Turning that vertical suplex into a rotary suplex!"

[Serbo was turning circles, while standing in place, causing Easton to get even more disoriented, on top of the blood to the brain part! Horrey tossed Python over... But Python held on, and landed, sitting on the apron! Lumberjacks tried to grab at the OLW Champ, but he stomped and kicked, forcing himself back to his feet...]

[And Python even blocked a right hand, firing back with one of his own! Python fired off another, trying to keep Horrey off... And Horrey dropped to a knee, jabbing Python in the throat! Python tumbled off the apron, just in time for Serbo to drop Easton, stomach-first across the top rope!]

Hazen: "Python's out! Easton might be next!"

[But no, Serbo staggered back, and whiffed a kick to Easton's head, as Horrey came over, hammering a knee into the small of Serbo's back! Serbo dropped, dizzy and in pain, and Horrey went for Easton, wanting to poach an easy second elimination... But Easton hammered a shoulder into Horrey's stomach, and leapt over, trying for a sunset flip!]

[The mike-man ran to Python, who just patted Anthony Phoenix, of the NSWA, on the shoulder!]

[Python headed for the back, as Phoenix went diving into the ring!]

Bowie: "Anthony Phoenix! I haven't looked much into the NSWA yet, but he did show up and cut a promo to hype CoW, so I like him!"

[As Horrey dropped to a knee, hammering Easton with blows, Phoenix came to a squat, picking his mark. Serbo was slowly climbing back up... Technically not as much of a threat. Horrey had just gotten the hot elim... So best to go after him!]

[Horrey turned, right into a running big boot, and Horrey dropped! Phoenix hoisted him back up, and hooked the arm, whipping Horrey off to the ropes... Only to follow him in, and take Horrey down with a snap German suplex!]

Bowie: "I LIKE this Phoenix guy!"

Hazen: "What a German!"

[Serbo let the fresher men do their thing, and grabbed Easton by the hair, hoisting him up... Shoving Easton back, Serbo spun, snapping a kick to the shin, to the side of the thigh, one stamping one to the gut to double Easton, a snap-kick to the chest, and a leaping roundhouse to the temple, taking Easton down!]

Bowie: "What a combination! Flurry of kicks from Serbo!"

[The Russian Superman wasn't done... Easton was yanked up, and Serbo hooked the bodybuilder for a belly-to-belly... and right over the top went Easton! The lumberjacks at ringside caught Easton, some even taking a tumble under his body!]

Hazen: "And there he goes!"

[As Serbo rose, turning, Horrey dropped Phoenix with a thrust to the throat... Only to glance over his shoulder and see Serbo glowering at him! Horrey turned from Phoenix, heading for Serbo, face to face, nose to nose! Eyes glared into eyes as the two men faced off!]

Bowie: "The AWA would sell out arenas in their home territory with this matchup!"

[Serbo and Horrey started trading blows, the men both getting the idea at the same time to start firing off right hands! Horrey was staggered, but fired back again! Serbo was staggered, but threw a flurry of forearms! Horrey went for a palm thrust, which Serbo ducked... Only for Horrey to hammer a knee into Serbo's jaw!]

[Easton rose, pointing at the hometown wrestler, Angel of Death, and headed for the back.]

Hazen: "THE NEW YORK FAITHFUL GO WILD!"

Bowie: "Angel of Death, longtime Hudson River Wrestling roster member, is getting his shot!"

[And into the ring AoD went! Horrey and Serbo were trading blows, until Serbo stamped Horrey's foot, hammered a knee into his gut, and shoved Horrey into the corner, where Serbo began to choke Horrey. Phoenix, on the other hand, was waiting for AoD...]

Bowie: "WHAT A RUNNING BOOT TO THE HEAD!"

[As AoD stooped to get into the ring, under the top, Phoenix had run up, and soccer-style kicked the Angel in the face! Phoenix hoisted AoD up... And tossed him right back over the top! AoD managed to land on the ring apron... But three different lumberjacks grabbed onto him, and yanked him to the floor!]

[The mike-man ran up, as AoD pressed his hands to his face.]

"Adrien Cochrane, you're up next buddy."

[Adrien Cochrane slides into the ring and quickly hits a dropkick on Sam Horrey. Adrien immediately hits a barrage of lefts and rights on Sam Horrey when he gets back up.]

Hazen: Cochrane is starting off with some intensity on Sam Horrey.

Bowie: Horrey and Adrien have a history of dislike from International Wars last year and a match that Ryan Matthews attacked Adrien for Sam.

Hazen: Adrien is getting his revenge for that now.

[Sam Horrey gets back on his feet, and ties up with Adrien. Serbo, on the other side of the ring, has Anthony Phoenix on the ropes and hits him with a huge boot. Phoenix gets back up and decides to attack Adrien instead of picking a fight with the Russian Superman. Horrey and Phoenix hit a double suplex on the cruiserweight Adrien.]

Bowie: Doing things the way it should be, two guys taking out the little guy.

Hazen: And Serbo is staring at this.

[Serbo is looking at the double team. The two hit a double DDT on Adrien. Serbo seems to be thinking about something as Phoenix and Horrey begin to pounding on Adrien in the corner. Suddenly, Serbo grabs Sam Horrey and tosses him under the ropes to the outside. Two lumberjacks, looks like Zortalk and Calib Wallace, begin stomping him into the ground.]

Hazen: Serbo is helping Adrien. What the…

[Serbo throws Anthony Phoenix into the ropes and hits a power slam on him. Adrien gets back on his feet and looks at Serbo in shock.]

Hazen: Adrien can't believe Serbo just helped him. He is in total shock.

[Adrien seems to be saying "Thank you" to Serbo. Serbo doesn't acknowledge Adrien's thanks and continues to his rampage on Anthony Phoenix by belly-to-belly suplexing him. He then looks at Adrien and points at the turnbuckle.]

Hazen: I think he wants Adrien to go for a high flying move on the top rope.

Bowie: What the hell is Serbo doing helping Adrien?! I mean…how can a great wrestler like Sergeiev Bogorovich work with the wrestling scum of the earth, Adrien Cochrane?

Hazen: They did work together in that AWA eight-man tag match after their two partners left them mid-match. They won that match too.

[Adrien climbs the top rope. He does a silent cross and hits a huge moonsault on Anthony Phoenix. Sam Horrey gets in the ring and attacks the down Adrien. Serbo gets back to work on Phoenix solo.]

Bowie: Now we have a match again.

[Sam Horrey and Serbo grab their respective targets and whip them into the ropes, causing them to run into each other. Serbo looks angrily at Sam Horrey and goes for a spinning heel kick, but Sam ducks and the foot goes flying over his head. Serbo faces Sam Horrey, and Sam starts hitting strikes on the shocked Serbo. His striking frenzy ends when he is hit by a Two Second Kill by Adrien.]

Hazen: Adrien returns the favor to Serbo by saving him from a strike spree from Sam Horrey by hitting him with his tag partner's finishing maneuver. That's one from the Dean Hobkirk playbook.

[Sam Horrey is out cold in the center of the ring. Anthony Phoenix gets to his feet and runs at Serbo, who flips him over the ropes and eliminates him.]

Announcer: Anthony Phoenix is eliminated by Sergeiev Bogorovich!

[Phoenix looks at Serbo with disgust and throws Reinhardt Hoffman in the ring as his replacement. Hoffman gets back up and starts to stomp on the downed Sam Horrey. Serbo hits a German suplex on Hoffman, who made the mistake of turning his back on him. Adrien sits in the corner and seems to be waiting for something. Serbo hits another suplex on Hoffman, who decides to roll away from him upon landing on the mat. Serbo follows until he is hit from behind by an awaken Sam Horrey. Horrey and Serbo tie-up in the corner as Adrien comes dashing out the corner with blazing speed and nails a spear on the unsuspecting Reinhardt Hoffman. Sam Horrey kicks Serbo in the gut, but Serbo recovers quick enough to kick Sam back. He gets another kick, and another, and another on Horrey. He backs up two steps for a short clothesline, but it fails when Sam Horrey ducks, pulling the top rope with him.]

Hazen: IS SERBO GOING DOWN?!?!

Bowie: He is hanging on to the middle rope…can he save himself?!

[Horrey must think he did succeed in eliminating Serbo, because he started punching Adrien on the other side of the ring. Serbo finds the strength to pull himself back into the ring before touching the ground.]

Hazen: Serbo escapes a close elimination.

[Horrey now tosses Adrien over the top, but he too hangs on to the bottom rope. Horrey raises his arm because he thinks he eliminated Serbo and Adrien. Adrien slips back into the ring. Hoffman quickly rolls up the unsuspecting Sam Horrey.]

1…

2…

THREE!!

Announcer: Sam Horrey has been eliminated by Reinhardt Hoffman!!

[Sam Horrey gets back up in the ring, looking pretty mad. He exits the ring and points at Zortalk, who attacked him on the outside earlier, as his replacement.]

Hazen: We have three AWA members in the ring now.

[Zortalk begins to attack Serbo, who is just now getting his foot untangled from the ropes after saving himself from being eliminated. Zortalk tries to shove Serbo over the top but is unsuccessful. Serbo starts a karate kick combo on Zortalk and ends it with a huge spinning heel kick to the back of the head. Serbo gets the cover on Zortalk.]

1…

2…

Kickout!

[Zortalk gets the shoulder up. Meanwhile, Adrien and Hoffman are tied up with Hoffman getting the advantage. He lifts Adrien up in the air, but Adrien flips over him. Adrien quickly runs around him and jumps on his back. Hoffman tries to grab him off his back, but he can't reach. He begins to back up into the ropes and tries to make Adrien drop off the outside to eliminate him. Adrien hangs on to Hoffman. Hoffman then tries charging forward, but Adrien is standing on the apron. Adrien quickly gets on the top rope and hits a springboard Hurricanrana on Hoffman, causing a huge pop from the crowd. Back to Serbo and Zortalk, Serbo continuing his assault on the back of Zortalk's head by stomping on it. He would continue until Zortalk sweeps his legs from under him. Zortalk tries to capitalize, but Serbo gets back up immediately and hits a quick belly to belly suplex.]

Hazen: What a recovery by Sergeiev Bogorovich!

[Hoffman is getting back to his feet and is hitting lefts and rights on Adrien. Adrien is backed up by each powerful blow from Adrien, and whips him to the ropes on the other side. Reinhardt ducks down, preparing to fling the cruiserweight over the top, but Adrien leaps over him and lands behind him. When Hoffman turns around, he is met by a kick in the mid-section, and Adrien's finishing maneuver, The Adrien Cutter. Adrien quickly gets the cover.]

1…

2…

THREE!!

Announcer: Reinhardt Hoffman has been eliminated by Adrien Cochrane.

[Reinhardt gets up after a few minutes and tells the referee he wants Joseph Justice as his replacement. Justice reluctantly gets in. Zortalk is the victim of a huge spinebuster from Serbo. Justice is the victim of a huge dropkick by Adrien, forcing him into the corner. Serbo gets up and stands in front of Justice. He motions Adrien to back-up.]

Bowie: What is Serbo up to now?

Hazen: I don't know. Adrien looks as confused as we are.

[Adrien backs up a bit, but a smile comes across his face when he sees Serbo get down to set up Adrien's Trademark move.]

Hazen: Poetry Rana?

[Adrien runs towards the corner, but Serbo tries to flip him out of the ring. Adrien hands on by landing on the top rope.]

Hazen: Lucky place for Adrien to land as Serbo set him up.

[Adrien immediately hits a cross body from the top rope on Serbo…and Zortalk…who made the mistake of getting up and standing next to him.]

Hazen: Who is that?

[Suddenly, through the crowd comes a man in a black tuxedo. He is cleanly shaven and groomed. Serbo is trying to get back to his feet. Justice is out of the corner. Adrien and Zortalk are still down.]

Bowie: Who is that guy?

[The man enters the ring and hits a low blow on Joseph Justice. He immediately follows it up with a huge death valley driver. The man exits the ring and starts making his way up the ramp.]

Hazen: Is that Edward White? I thought he was a Hobo, and I thought he went to rehab!

Bowie: I guess he got sober…

Hazen: And it looks like he's rich too!

[Serbo covers the fallen Justice.]

1…

2…

THREE!!

Announcer: Joseph Justice has been eliminated by Sergeiev Bogorovich.

[Justice rolls out of the ring and yells at Noah Hanson to get in the ring.]

[After Hanson got in the match, Zortalk began to work on Adrien, as Noah Hanson fell victim to Sergeiev Bogorovich. Serbo even went as far as planting Hanson with a huge powerslam. Zortalk was able to eliminate Adrien by shoving down the cruiserweight when he was attempting a Thrillseeker.]

[Adrien Cochrane was eliminated by William "Zortalk" Davenport.]

[Adrien smiled off his elimination, cheerfully patting Zortalk on the back, and choosing Malik Johnson as his replacement. Malik attacked Hanson as Serbo focused his attention on Davenport. Malik had a few near falls on Hanson, but was unable to put him away. Serbo and Zortalk fought evenly with Serbo eventually getting the upper hand. Malik Johnson soon hit a low blow on Serbo and clotheslined Zortalk to the outside.]

[William "Zortalk" Davenport was eliminated by Malik Johnson.]

[Zortalk picks his rival, Catalyst to be the next entrant in the match. Johnson, feeling good about himself, backs into a roll up by Noah Hanson, which got the three count.]

[Malik Johnson was eliminated by Noah Hanson.]

[The former AWA Heavyweight champion Calib Wallace is selected by Malik. Calib Wallace attacks the worn out Serbo. Serbo has a sign off life after being dominated early on, and eventually hits a snap suplex. Hanson and Catalyst were fighting evenly on the other side. The tables turned when Catalyst tried joining forces with Serbo to double team Calib Wallace, who finds enough momentum to throw Catalyst over the top to eliminate him.]

[Catalyst is eliminated by Calib Wallace.]

[Curtis Penn from the CHIMERA Fight Team comes in as Catalyst's successor. Penn immediately began working on Hanson as Wallace and Serbo returned their attentions to each other. Penn grappled with Hanson and took down the somewhat wearied Hanson, immediately putting him in a rear naked choke. Hanson, caught by surprise by the offensive, couldn't do much to stop Penn after he got taken down, and as such, was forced to tap.]

[Noah Hanson is eliminated by Curtis Penn.]

[Hanson chose GEC Gladiator Champion Maharba to replace him. Smartly enough, he interjected himself between Serbo and Wallace, the two most wearied warriors in the match, squaring off with Wallace. Penn was quick to go to Serbo, smelling wounded prey. However, Penn underestimated Serbo's weakness and charged in for a spear, but was promptly stopped by a knee to the face. Meanwhile, Maharba had gained an offensive on Wallace, now whipping him into the ropes. Wallace reverses and sends the face of an unsuspecting Maharba straight into the heel of the Russian Superman. Maharba was blasted back, which allowed enough momentum for Wallace to lift Maharba up and over the ropes.]

[Maharba was eliminated by Calib Wallace.]

[Cobra slides in before Maharba even had the chance to name the last contestant. Cobra, fresh since the beginning of the match, attacked Wallace with a massive flying clothesline that, if Wallace had been paying attention, could've easily been dodged and spelled doom for the HRW superstar. However, this was not the case as Wallace was simply leveled. Serbo had turned his attentions back to Penn, who managed to get him down to the mat and locked into a Kimura armbar. Serbo refused to tap, fighting through the pain and eventually reversing to slip out. Serbo and Penn were both up to their feet, with Serbo against the ropes. Penn charges for the clothesline to put him up and over, but Serbo reverses with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex that instead eliminates Penn.]

[Curtis Penn was eliminated by Sergeiev Bogorovich.]

[The last three contestants of the match quickly became two, as Wallace managed to get the elimination over the dominating Cobra by hitting his Buzzsaw finisher out of nowhere and pinning him with the assistance of some tights-pulling.]

[Cobra was eliminated by Calib Wallace.]

[And so, the two men stood, Calib Wallace and Sergeiev Bogorovich. One man would be proclaimed Warlord. The other would go home as merely second place.]

[The two charged each other for the umpteenth time this night as the crowd went berserk. Wallace unleashed a fury of rights and lefts as Serbo quickly brought his knees up to Wallace's ribs in a lightning-fast fashion. Wallace managed to grab one of Serbo's legs, but without skipping a beat, Serbo flipped and crushed Wallace's skull with an Enziguri. Wallace crumpled, and Serbo went for the pin, only getting 2.99 seconds. Serbo went to pick Wallace up, but Wallace was quick to react with a low blow followed by a European uppercut. Serbo fell on his back and Wallace stomped down on him, albeit somewhat groggily, still staggering from the headshot. He went to the mat and tied up Serbo in a Juji-Gatame, hoping that Penn did enough damage to his arm that Serbo would tap. Unfortunately for Wallace, Serbo managed to get a foot on the ropes, and hence, the move was broken up. A frustrated Wallace got up as did a sore-armed Serbo. With Serbo against the ropes, Wallace moved in for the kill, but was halted by a steely foot in the gut, followed by Serbo's patented Night Terror finisher. It was elementary from there, as Serbo made the cover.]

[Calib Wallace was eliminated by Sergeiev Bogorovich.]

Winner, and the first ever WWA Warlord: Sergeiev Bogorovich.

Face To Face
Victor Mandrake and ???

[With a frustrated sigh, Victor Mandrake reaches for the door to his office with his large hand, twisting the door knob as though it had raped his daughter, and pushes open the door. He enters the darkened office.]

[He had been sent on a wild goose chase, it would seem. And Mandrake doesn't like being played for the fool. But yet there was something oddly familiar about the woman in the parking garage. He's certain he's seen her before. But where? The answer comes to him as he flips the light switch, and his office is illuminated once more, revealing a familiar face sitting in his chair, with their feet propped up on his desk.]

[Former World Wrestling Alliance World Champion Ryan Blasier.]

[Mandrake's face turns into a classic, "You've got to be kidding me" expressions.]

Mandrake: "Ryan Blasier. I should've known."

[Dressed in a pair of black dress slacks, white dress shirt, and with his sandy brown hair short at the sides and spiked on top, the former World champ looks older than when he'd last appeared on WWA television. But his eyes still hold the intensity of the man who tormented the lives of many of the individuals unfortunate enough to cross his path.]

Blasier: "Hello, Victor. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

[Mandrake takes a few steps closer to the desk, his fists balling instinctively. He glares at Blasier, his expression menacing.]

Mandrake: "Not nearly long enough. What do you want?"

[One corner of Blasier's mouth twists up in a half-grin, half-smirk.]

Blasier: "Ah, right. I'd almost forgot. You're not one for long speeches, right? Grunts and groans, the whole knuckle-dragging Neanderthal thing?"

[Seeing that Mandrake isn't amused, Blasier shakes his head and shrugs, leaning forward to plant his elbows on Mandrake's large desk, his hands clasped together, thumbs supporting his chin.]

Blasier: "You've got the sense of humor of a rabid dog, you know that? Anyway, I'll get straight to the point, then. You owe me something. I'm here to collect it."

[Despite his anger and hostility toward this unwanted intrusion, Mandrake pauses, an eyebrow raised.]

Mandrake: "I owe you nothing."

[A snort from Blasier.]

Blasier: "Sure you do. You're now the big cheese around here, right?"

Mandrake: "Yes."

Blasier: "And so what you say is law, correct?"

Mandrake: "Of course."

[Blasier spreads his arms, as though the conversation should have explained everything clearly.]

Blasier: "So, then, as the big cheese, give me what I rightfully deserve."

[When Mandrake's only response is a heavy exhale of breath and narrowed eyes, Blasier rolls his eyes.]

Blasier: "My World title rematch, you dimwitted buffoon. I want it."