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[4]

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[2]

[1]

[...]

[Crown of War.]

[The Prelude to Summer Games.]

[The winner, Warlord if you must, will hand select his own team for Summer Games, the pinnacle of the World Wrestling Alliance calendar. This night has so many implications that one would be hard-pressed to count them.]

[And we’re about to see one more unfold.]

[Somewhere deep within the bowels of the Air Canada Centre is an office. Very few, if any “random” passers by would have the courage it would take to knock on the black door, the inlaid six-pointed star sees to that. If that weren’t enough, the gold plaque with the name of he who has reserved this small space during a Pay-Per-View event will keep the rest away.]

[V. Mandrake]

[The nameplate, carved in gold with symbols running around it’s edge, is enough to keep even the stupidest of intruders at bay. And with Mandrake, you never know what kinds of wards those symbols might be anyway.]

[So, when a hand comes into view and raps sharply at the door, needless to say that surprise is the first emotion that comes to mind. A deep, answering voice from the other side of the door cuts surprise into stark fear.]

“Come in, Eric.”

[Pull back.]

[The Only Star cocks an eyebrow. He knew he hadn’t made a sound upon approach, nothing to give away his identity in any way, and he knocked like the police do right before they kicked down a door, which wasn’t his usual style. For Mandrake to know automatically who had come calling was just a bit disconcerting.]

[As the former four time World Champion turned the handle and crossed the threshold into Mandrake's “office”, he never stopped to think that perhaps Victor knew better than to expect anyone to come into his domain.]

[Anyone but Eric Dane.]

“Hello, Victor.”

[The room was dark save for a lamp sitting in the corner of a larger than usual mahogany desk. The effect was eerie, but nothing Dane wasn’t used to from Mandrake. The two-time Summer Games winner took a seat in a leather chair across from the king-sized desk of the king-sized Victor Mandrake. Mandrake nodded in reply.]

“Eric.”

[The moment was tense, as they always were between these two blood enemies.]

Dane: "How’s your wife?"

[A flash of anger glanced across Victor's icy-blue eyes, and his jaw visibly clenched.]

Mandrake: "Never better. How’s your hand?"

[Dane unknowingly buries his left hand into his right, feeling the nub where his pinky used to be, before Mandrake physically removed it for putting a bullet an inch and a quarter to the left of Morrigan’s heart.]

Dane: "Just fine, thanks."

[Their propinquity to each other caused another terse moment of silence. These two men, as always, would just as soon tear each other apart as have an amicable conversation. Dane breaks the silence.]

Dane: "I assume you have the paperwork ready?"

Mandrake: "You would assume correctly."

[The Immortal One pushes a small stack of papers across the desk where a quill and ink pot awaits The Only Star.]

Dane: "This is*everything?"

Mandrake: "You doubt me?"

Dane: "Don’t I always?"

[Victor’s eyes tighten, he pulls the documents back to his side of the desk.]

Mandrake: "I find your lack of faith disturbing, Eric."

Dane: "Can you honestly blame me?"

Mandrake: "Perhaps not, though, if you find yourself in a quandary, I can call Saunders right now and allow things to progress as they normally would have. I hear he’s only accepting phone calls from me."

[Eric rolls his eyes.]

Dane: "Just give me the damnable thing."

[Again the man formerly known as Diablo slides the papers across the smooth surface of the desk. Being his last night on the job, his desk is quite empty otherwise. Dane flips through the pages.]

Dane: "I don’t understand any of this."

Mandrake: "You wouldn’t."

[The soon to be former owner of the Alliance smiles wide.]

Mandrake: "You know lawyers, they have their own language. You sign the bottom of the last page."

[The Hardcase takes the quill and flips to the last page. He spares Mandrake one last glance before dipping the quill in the ink pot and scrawling his signature across the line. Somehow, he manages to prick his finger with the quill, a single spot of blood drips onto the fresh ink where he’d just signed.]

Mandrake: "A nice touch, don’t you think?"

Dane: [undeterred] "It’s done, then? All of it?"

Mandrake: "Yes. All of it. Every last drop."

[Eric stands.]

Dane: "Good. File it. I’m going somewhere with a little more light, and a little less you. I’ll be seeing you, Vic."

[Mandrake leans back in his extremely large chair.]

Mandrake: "Indeed you shall, Eric."

[He smiles the Cheshire cat’s wicked smile.]

Mandrake: "In due time, of course."

Dane: "Right. Whatever. Fuck you, Vic."

[A tense second passes.]

Mandrake: "Ah, now there's the eloquent Mr. Dane we've all come to know and love."

[The phone that you didn’t see on his desk rings.]

Mandrake: "You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I have to take this."

[Dane has already turned to leave. Something about a meeting with Victor Mandrake got under his skin, no matter how many times he’d stared the man down. Something was just not right with him. As he left the office, he thought he heard a curt conversation, undoubtedly with one of Mandrake’s many lawyers.]

Mandrake: "Yes. It's done."

[Dane slammed the door behind him and walked away. He had many, many other matters to attend to.]

-----

[Black.]

[The swirling blue WWA logo shimmers onto your screen.]

[Cue: Journey - "Wheel in the Sky"]

[Open to a moving crane shot of the inside of the Air Canada Center, the entire city of Toronto has crammed the venue to the gills with rabid wrestling fans. Thousands of signs paper the arena, and a few of them are even kind of creative and funny:

-The Wraith Can't Wrestle!
-I (heart) Eduardo!
-I bought Serbo's CoW Trophy on ebay and all I got was this stupid sign!
-John 3:16
-Fuck John 3:16
-I want to be the cream in a Boston/Brooks Twinkie!
-I've Never Seen Brad Jackson!
-What the fuck are the CoW rules again?

[Okay, so some of the signs are stupid. Whatever. The camera shot cuts directly to the broadcast booth of the legendary former ACW and WC:C announce team of "Downtown" Darren Keebler and "Mighty Mouth" Angus Skaaland.]

[Keebler is dressed in a suit and tie with a WWA logo embroidered on his lapel, and his eyeglasses sit squarely across his nose. Angus, on the other hand, sports a blue tuxedo t-shirt and a pair of old torn jeans shorts, his hair is pulled back in a quick ponytail, and he's sporting Oakley sunglasses. Inside. What a douche.]

DDK: WEEEEEEEELCOME WRESTLING FANS!

Angus: Oh for Christ's sake.

DDK: [deflated] What?

Angus: Here we go again...

DDK: [exasperated] WHAT?

Angus: Here we are, on live fucking Pay-Per-View, for the first time in like eight months no less, in front of a bigger crowd than we ever got in WC:C except for Dane/Ramsey II, and you're creaming your pants like a twenty-seven year old mark at his first fucking wrestling show.

DDK: Oh for the love of... I'M EXCITED!

Angus: I can tell.

DDK: Don't you ever get excited about wrestling anymore?

Angus: Sure, I got excited last week at Revenge when Eric Dane showed up and told the world that he was going to buy the whole fuckin' Alliance right out from under Matt Saunders nose!

DDK: Leave it to you to only care about something vaguely Team Danger related.

Angus: It's a habit, can't shake it.

DDK: Well, we do know that both Eric Dane and Victor Mandrake are in the building, as we saw them together only moments ago, and apparently Eric Dane has just bought the Alliance! Now, we all know Dane for a shrewd business man who knows the wrestling business inside and out, but we also know him to be a vindictive, ego-maniacal psychopath with an itchy trigger finger.

Angus: Dude, you worked with him just last year in WC:C. You know he's gotten well past all of his issues and "demons" or whateverthefuck, and he's all about moving the industry forward and looking to the future and all that happy shit.

DDK: Yeah, but he had zero power inside WC:C. Now, he's got the entire alliance by the short and curlies, and I've known the man long enough to know that that kind of power at his behest is not a good idea for anyone. Including us.

Angus: Wait, what?

DDK: We signed our contracts with Matt Saunders, he could very well null them just out of spite to Mr. Saunders, and you know it.

[Skaaland is put back, for a millisecond.]

Angus: *pshaw!* Eric's my brother from another mother, he'd never fire me. You, maybe, but we're like peas in a pod.

DDK: If by that you mean you used to be his lackey and never really pissed him off, then I'll take that as good news and assume we still have a job.

Angus: Good, so get on with it!

[Keebler clears his throat.]

DDK: Well, first up tonight we've got the Crown of War match itself!

Angus: Boring clusterfuck.

DDK: Twelve of the most talented men and women-

Angus: [cutting in] Woman.

DDK: -in the World will get it on for the right to be called Warlord of the WWA, and if that isn't enough, the winner will get to pick his own team for Summer Games coming up in just a few months!

Angus: Boo to that. What happened to the World Title shot?

DDK: Some people would say that a Summer Games trophy is just as prestigious as a World Title belt.

Angus: Those people are idiots.

DDK: Your friend Eric Dane is one of those people.

Angus: And geniuses.

DDK: *sigh* You just won't give up, will you?

Angus: Couldn't even if I wanted to.

DDK: Moving right along...

Angus: Please.

DDK: Up next is my pick for match of the night, for the Double Crown Title, Justin Brooks will defend against Boston Bancroft!

Angus: These two guys were easily the highlight of the last week of press for the event, they even got into a rap battle at the last Between Hell and High Water out in Las Vegas!

DDK: These are two young, hungry lions, and you can bet tonight they're going to leave it all in the ring, and when the whole thing is said and done, the best possible champion will hold the belt up high for everyone to see!

Angus: After that we've got a World Tag Team Title match where The Gathering will defend the belts against a team that just lost their II Tag Team Titles, the Sex Symbols!

DDK: And then, in the main event of the evening, brand new champion Brad Jackson will defend the belt that he took from Cobra a very short time ago against Eduardo Domingo, the man who brought the DC Title to the prestige it has today with his unheard of one year plus reign as champion!

Angus: Yeah, I could give two sets of fuck about that match, and apparently the participants felt the same way if their effort over the last month is to be judged.

DDK: Irreguardless, you and I both know that they'll both turn it up when the bell rings and the title is on the line!

Angus: Yeah, but we're trying to sell a pay-per-view here!

DDK: Well, we've sold it to everyone who's gonna buy it, and it's about high time we get into the thick of it!

Angus: Yeah, so, backstage camera-dudes, DO YOUR JOBS YOU BUNCH OF HACKS!

[Cut.]

-----

[As soon as the camera switches backstage the strums of an acoustic guitar echo through the lobby of the Air Canada Centre. A few generic backstage workers walk past the beige ceramic tile before the calming voice of a well-known WWA veteran begins to accompany the guitar.]

#Welcome to the Crown of War
#Where all the battlers get torn
#Twelve competitors vying for a win
#Or their careers are in a trash bin!

[Cheerfully strumming away on his acoustic steel string guitar is HRW representative in the Crown of War match, Adrien Cochrane. His feet swing off the edge of the counter along with the melody of the song. The song is, however, interrupted when he hears a cool female voice from a few feet from the counter.]

Jane: "Not bad. Not bad at all."

[Cochrane nearly leaps off the counter in surprise. He looks around, sees Jane looking at him, and laughs for flinching from just an unexpected audience member.]

Adrien: “Thanks, wrote it myself. Jane Katze, I assume?”

[Jane, standing in her usual professional attire, offers Adrien her hand and a small smile.]

Jane: "In the flesh."

[Adrien shakes Jane’s hand.]

Adrien: “Adrien Cochrane.”

[The small smile on Jane's face spreads into a full grin as she nods in recognition.]

Jane: "Pleased to meet you."

[Adrien, who seems casually dressed compared to Jane by wearing his usual Ramones T-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, smiles back at Jane.]

Adrien: “The pleasure is mine. Surprised you recognized me actually. Despite the fact the fans know me well, I’m finding out that a lot of the other WWA wrestlers have no idea who I am. Brad Jackson actually passed me by earlier while I was singing and threw a twenty dollar bill in my guitar case, thinking I was some street performer.”

[Jane rolls her eyes.]

Jane: "Yes, but Jackson's a bit senile."

[Adrien smirks at Jane’s comment.]

Adrien: “Ah, I’m not sure if I’d go as far as senile. Just still relatively new to the alliance despite being the champion. Honestly, I might not have recognized him if it wasn’t for the big shiny gold belt he was carrying.”

[The SSB/II wrestler shakes her head in disappointment.]

Jane: "That belt becomes him not."

[The other II wrestler shrugs his shoulders in indifference.]

Adrien: “Don’t know him well enough to form an opinion about him. I try not to judge someone before I know them. But one thing that neither one of us can deny him is that he does have that belt currently.”

[Jane crosses her arms over her chest as Adrien speaks, not particularly agreeing with the sentiment being shared.]

Jane: "He's the Champion physically, but he certainly isn't the Champion in spirit. There's more to holding the title than just putting some chunk of metal around your waist and strutting about with your nose thrust up in the air. But that's a discussion for a different time."

[Adrien nods, not wanting to push the topic any further.]

Adrien: “Indeed. So we’re going to be opponents tonight.”

[Jane shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.]

Jane: "Opponent is a subjective word, isn't it?"

[Adrien chuckles.]

Adrien: “It is, indeed. Just because we’re booked against each other in a match doesn’t mean there is no ill-will between me and you, or any other person in the match. Fact of the matter is, there is no guarantee we’ll even be in the ring at the same time. We may not even have contact with each other during the actual match.”

[Jane doesn't seem to get any more comfortable.]

Jane: "Yes, but if we do come into contact, by some off chance, perhaps we might be able to, uh, 'coordinate our activities'?"

[Adrien had a big grin come across his face.]

Adrien: “I don’t see why we couldn’t. You seem like a nice person.”

[Jane gives Adrien a more genuine smile, though there's something a little sinister to it this time.]

Jane: "I'm glad we have a kind of... understanding."

[She winks. Adrien, completely oblivious to Jane’s subtle sinister demeanor, smiles.]

Adrien: “No problem. Have you bought my new solo album that came out last week, or are you not too into music?”

[Jane shrugs meekly.]

Jane: "I'm not a big music fan, no. And the music that I am into isn't popular with the fans, from what I can tell. Just wait and see how they react to my entrance theme tonight. My prediction: it's not going to be pretty."

[Adrien chuckles again.]

Adrien: “You’re going to find it ironic that this is coming from the wrestler-slash-musician, but the theme song is one of the least important things to a wrestler. Before I settled for the one I have now, I was changing it monthly. But I’ve stuck with “Original Prankster” for about two years now.”

[She cocks her head to the side in some form of curiosity.]

Jane: "They don't seem to hand out brownie points for consistency, I'm afraid. So my steadfast ways are being drowned out by a chorus of jeers from the loving public."

[Adrien shrugs, still swinging his hanging legs back and forth off the counter.]

Adrien: “They may eventually warm up to you. It took a couple of years here in the WWA before the public began to like me.”

[Jane looks down at her watch and raises her eyebrows before looking back to Adrien.]

Jane: "Well, it's been nice chatting with you but I really must be going. Best of luck, and all that."

[Adrien smiles and offers his hand for a goodbye handshake.]

Adrien: “Same to you. If I get eliminated and you’re still in it, I’ll be rooting for you.”

[She reciprocates the handshake and then gives Adrien a casual wave goodbye.]

Jane: "Thanks, friend."

[Adrien smiles, as Jane heads to her locker room. Adrien grabs his guitar pick.]

Adrien: “Well, she seems nice. I’m going to play one more verse before I go back.”

[Adrien begins to strum the same four chords as before.]

#Boston and Brooks is a sure fight
#Jackson and Ed will take out lights
#No worries, there shall be no bore
#As we begin the Crown of War

-----

Angus: Are you fucking serious?

DDK: What?

Angus: Didn't that little snot just beat up a referee in II?

DDK: Well, no, not really, he did push him though.

Angus: I CALL SHENANIGANS!

DDK: Why?

Angus: Because that was eight minutes of drivel and bad song-writing, and now I have a headache.

DDK: Then let's get to something else, shall we?

-----

[Backstage.]

[A WWA reporter stands in the loading dock area dressed in a tuxedo. All is quiet behind him. No stagehands looking for screen time, no moving of equipment as Crown of War was now on the air. The reporter starts his segment.]

Reporter: "The rumors that have been spreading on the Internet have so far been true. Crown of War participant Cobra has yet to arrive at the arena with his match starting shortly. There should be no surprise that the leader of the Serpentalists is not showing up tonight as the scandal around the Secaucus School Shooting continues to heighten and center around the Church of the Serpent. It is safe to say that the Crown of War match will either have a surprise entrant or will be one wrestler short."

[A black stretch limo makes the turn outside and enters through the service entrance of the arena and comes to a halt close by the reporter.]

Reporter: "It appears we have a surprise guest. We already know that Eric Dane and Victor Mandrake are in the building! Could this be Cobra showing up for his match?"

[The driver of the limo gets out and makes the long walk down the side of the car and reaches the back door. Professionally, he opens the door as the cameraman walks around the reporter and takes a low angle shot of the open door just in time to catch the first foot of the man stepping out. The camera slowly pans up as the man gets out of the car and stands there for a moment for dramatic effect. The camera continues to pan up, showing the man’s tattered jeans and then the man’s skin tight HRW t-shirt, and finally the infamous mask of Cobra.]

[Cobra starts to walk towards the locker room area as the reporter tries to keep pace and interview the man.]

Reporter: "Cobra. Will you be participating in tonight’s Crown of War match?"

[Cobra does not acknowledge him.]

Reporter: "What of the scandal involving your church and the school shooting in New Jersey?"

[Again Cobra does not acknowledge him.]

Reporter: "Is there any truth in the rumors that you had been in contact with the gunman prior to the shooting?"

[Cobra reaches the end of the loading area and the door that will lead to the locker rooms. He stops at the door and slowly turns his head towards the reporter.]

Cobra: "The child’s name was Cary Weiss and I will be wrestling tonight. Everything else will be addressed later."

[Cobra opens the door and exits the loading dock area and heads to the locker rooms leaving the reporter at the door with his microphone still angled out to where Cobra was standing.]

-----

Angus: You know, I'll bet that slimy fuck brainwashed the Weiss kid.

DDK: Oh stop it! The "incident" in Secaucus is a tragedy, and while I might tolerate a lot out of you, I won't sit here and let you make light of it!

Angus: Pfft, whatever. Cobra's a dick.

-----

[The announcer stepped through the ring ropes, microphone in hand, bow tie around his neck. He was in a rather nice, if totally plain suit. Slicked back hair, a bright, fake smile plastered on his lips, shoes shined up all nice... The very essence of corporate flunky.]

"Ladies and gentlemen... I am proud to announce that attendance for this year's "Crown of War" pay-per-view event stands at..."

[He paused, pulling a note-card from his pocket.]

"48 thousand, 5 hundred and 70 attendees!"

[The crowd lit up, as the announcer smiled brightly.]

"From the World Wrestling Alliance to all of you, we wish to thank each and everyone of you for coming out this evening, and coming to-"

[He is cut off.]

"Excuse me..."

[The house curtains parted, as out from the back stepped one of the representatives here tonight from the Silver State Battleground. The potential future Double Crown champion, Boston Bancroft, looked pretty good. Clean-shaven, except for that goatee and mustache. His head was shaven smooth, eyes hidden behind those typical sunglasses that he wore so often.]

"But I have an official announcement to make of my own."

[Boston grinned, brushing off the shoulder of his leather bomber jacket.]

"You see... I am out here to congratulate you all. Congratulations, Torontonians! Congratulations to all of Canada! By the power vested in me as a black man living in Barack Obama's America..."

"I hereby claim all of Canada as a protectorate of the United States of America."

[Boston took a moment, as the confused crowd murmured to itself.]

"To all those who don't follow... Being all of you... am officially declaring the irrelevant and pointless nation of Canada a subsidiary, a territory, you could say, of the USA."

[Boston paused for a moment as boos rained down on him. He smirked, wiping at his chin with his thumb.]

"You see, you are all completely and utterly irrelevant. From your brightest celebrities to your lamest athletes... Like Chris Cannon... To all two of your brave troops deployed to the Middle East, who are right now guarding the Men's Bathroom in the diplomat's hotel in Baghdad, who sacrifice their safety and freedom to ensure that the diplomats never run low on toilet paper...

"Every Canadian citizen exists for no good reason at all. Canada's a joke, and everyone's laughing but you. But don't worry! The US will bravely soldier on and absorb all of your inbred, syrup-sucking, hockey-playing, beaver-worshipping fat asses into itself, and we will use the boost in manpower to continue policing the world, as the US has been forced to do for the past fifty years by weak-ass nations...

"Like Canada."

[Boston snickered, as the crowd continued to boo him, the chorus of boos getting louder and louder as he continued to insult them.]

"It's not like we don't have a shortage of other fat inbred useless folks. You'll all fit right in! Minnesota, Michigan, and all the other states that border Canuckistan, as well as all of the South are exactly like you useless chucklefucks."

[Boston took a moment to collect his thoughts and someone in the crowd began a chant which quickly picked up steam. "GO HOME! GO HOME!", they chanted, and Boston just laughed.]

"Oh, I plan to do just that, as soon as I'm done with my business here... And that brings me to my second point.

"Justin Brooks."

[A cheer went up at the name of the brave Double Crown Champion, the firefighter who wouldn't stay down, no matter the odds.]

"You see, I have been pretty friendly with Justin, recently. Almost like... I actually like the guy. Which is kinda true. You all may have seen the tag match...

"And the so-called rap battle.

"But the kid gloves are off now, Justin. No more rap battles, no more me wanting to cooperate with you and work together. No more me trying to be all buddy buddy. You see, I've wanted to keep this thing between us from getting personal, like so many other matches. I don't hate you...

"But I do pity you. There's so much pressure on you to perform, to put on a good show so these useless fucking mongoloid fans would cheer you, love you, and support you..."

[The latter half of that last sentence was pretty much drowned out by the boos of said "useless fucking mongoloid fans". They didn't... really like being called that.]

"Why? Because you appreciate them for coming to see the show? Because they pay your check?

"They pay my check too, Justin. And I still hate every one of them."

[Another fresh chorus of boos shot out, but Boston stepped forward, jabbing an accusatory finger at the fans.]

"Yeah, you heard me! I hate all of you! It's your fault that wrestlers die from steroid abuse, juicing to try and get you to cheer their physiques and get more cash! It's your fault that wrestlers get pain pill addictions, trying to wrestle as much as possible to get over with you pieces of shit, and all your fault when good wrestlers don't get the respect they deserve!"

[Boston took another step forward, finger roving through the crowd as they laid in with their boos. They had nothing to do with that shit, they just came to see some dudes fight! Right?]

"So boo me! I'm gonna boo all of you right back in my heart, my mind and my soul as I fight Brooks! Every kick, every punch, and every hold I use tonight is specifically going to be aimed at sending all of you home unhappy!

"Brooks... This beating is nothing personal. But I'm not gonna let these fucking FANS go home happy. It might be a damn good match, but that title absolutely has to come back to Vegas with me in order to make all these losers sad...

"And that's what is gonna mean the most to me tonight."

[Boston dropped the mike, a burst of static hissing over the house speakers as a hand went to his elbow joint, fist clenched, as he told every fan exactly where they could shove those boos. War Pigs hit the speakers, blaring those totally awesome riffs, as Boston turned on his heel, and marched through the curtains without a glance backwards.]

-----

DDK: Wow. Just... wow.

Angus: I know, right?

DDK: I can't believe one man could disrespect that many people in under five minutes.

Angus: It's an art form.

DDK: It's a mockery!

Angus: That's sort of what we do, you know...

DDK: I can't believe you sometimes.

-----

[Angel of Death arrives at the Air Canada Centre, bags in hand, Black Widow shortly behind him. As he approaches, the cameraman stops him.]

AOD: "What? I don't have time. In case you've forgotten, I've got the Crown of War match ahead of me. Excuse me."

[AOD pushes past the cameraman, but Black Widow stops.]

Widow: "Look. The Crown of War match is pretty big. He's honored to have been invited, and a little annoyed that he's not even on the top 5 list of potential winners. He's got a lot to prove in a little bit of time in which to do it. Allow him a bit of extended focus, will you?"

[Pause.]

Widow: "This is more than being named Warlord, which frankly just brings back bad memories of a silver helmet and a scepter with a giant W on it. It's for the opportunity to personally select your Summer Games team. For someone as dedicated to HRW as my husband, that prize is much more enticing than some pointless footnote of a moniker. AOD's not here for Angel of Death. He's here for Hudson River Wrestling, and everyone within. So yeah, he's going to do whatever he can to win the match. If he doesn't, he doesn't. But that's not going to prevent him from giving his all and doing as much damage as he possibly can while he's out there."

[Pause.]

Widow: "So bring your Cobras, your Jack Amethysts, your Kevin DuMauriers, it doesn't matter who it is. Heads will roll tonight, as the honor of HRW is at stake. If AOD can't win this match, you want to bet that he'll do whatever it takes for Adrien Cochrane or the aforementioned DuMaurier to bring the prize home to HRW. The rest of the WWA needs to be on alert. HRW is the flagship for a reason. AOD will make sure it stays that way. Don't say we didn't warn you."

[She pushes past the cameraman and follows where her husband disappeared into the backstage area.]

[Fade.]

-----

Angus: And it's about to go from bad...

DDK: Don't go there.

Angus: ...to worse.

DDK: *sigh* You went there.

-----

“What is happening here?”

[Blue Collar is slowly walking down a hall in the backstage of the arena. This is Crown of War, in case you didn’t know. Oh, and it’s pronounced Pee Aye, like the letters.]

“Something is going on.”

[Something of course is always going on, but tonight it’s something noteworthy. It’s the second installment of Crown of War. This time last year Serbo was about to walk out the door as the first Warlord, and who knows maybe the big man could make his presence felt tonight.]

“That’s not quite clear.”

[Yeah I know no one can really understand all these rules and what not to the match, but hey that’s life.]

“Somebody turn on the light.”

[All of the lights are on.]

“We’re gonna have a party.”

[Of course we are. Blue Collar is on his way to the parking lot where he’s going to host the first international incident of his Blue Collar Dance Club.]

“It’s starting tonight.”

[It is in fact starting tonight...the road to Summer Games. It’s only the biggest and best pay per view ever, ever, ever, ever in history. So think about that.]

“Oh what a feeling!”

[Blue Collar is bopping his head in time to the music that is in his headphones, should’ve mentioned that before right?]

“When we're dancing on the ceiling.”

[Lionel Ritchie, gotta love it, his daughter is kind of hot and he produced a few memorable songs.]

“The room is hot...that’s good.”

[It is a little warm in the back of the arena. The heat is probably cranked because this is Canada the frozen tundra and all that.]

“Some of my friends came.”

[That isn’t true for Blue all his friends are back in Pittsburgh. He didn’t even tell them that he was going to wrestle. He told them he had some job offer. A little white lie never hurt anyone.]

“By from the neighborhood.”

[Okay...]

“People were starting.”

[Yeah they’ve already started gathering in the parking lot. I mean this thing could end up getting out of control.]

“To climb the walls.”

[Now that’s just bizarre behavior.]

“Ooh it looks like everybody.”

[...]

“Is having a ball.”

[Hell yeah.]

[Blue turns the corner and we lose him, he’s off to prepare for the match but after that win or lose guess what...it’s Blue Collar PA’s Dance Party, the International Incident Edition, but spell Edition with an I, so we can have a cool alliteration concept going on.]

-----

Angus: ...

DDK: That was Blue Collar PA!

Angus: What fucking universe is he from?

DDK: Pittsburgh.

Angus: That explains it.

DDK: Well, my format here says we're going back to here from Adr-

Angus: FUCK THAT!

DDK: What?

Angus: We already heard from that twat, and the show has barely been going on for ten minutes. We already have to hear from him again?

DDK: It's the format.

Angus: It's shitty fucking booking.

DDK: *shrug* It's the format.

-----

“Just a few more minutes until show time!”

[The excited voice of Adrien Cochrane, one of the twelve competitors in the upcoming Crown of War match, echoes through the backstage hallway. Adrien, oblivious to the cameras, starts showing signs of extreme excitement by walking backwards, mumbling songs under his breath, and swaying his arms in an almost dancing manner. As soon as he turns the corner, he immediately starts calmly walking down the hallway, where he immediately sees a familiar face.]

Adrien: “Justin Brooks?”

[Justin Brooks.]

[The Double Crown Champion]

[Dressed in a pair of black mesh shorts and his worn gray SYRACUSE hoodie over his large frame smiles as he holds the WWA Double Crown Title over his shoulder.]

Brooks: "Adrien Cochrane. Are you ready for this? This is what you've been training for. And personally I'm rooting for you but I'm going to be real with you the odds are against you. You got what it takes to walk out of Crown of War a brand new man?"

[Adrien, still wearing the Ramones t-shirt he had on earlier but with a pair of track pants on with it, smirks at the WWA Double Crown Champion.]

Adrien: “I really believe so. I got my Ramones shirt that I’m 4-0 in, and I’ve never felt this confident in my entire career. I want to thank you for slapping some sense into me.”

[Justin can't help but chuckle and shakes his head. He reached out and placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder gently.]

Brooks: "Whatever it takes, man. Whatever it takes. Remember that...as long as you can look yourself in the mirror in the morning, you do what it takes climb the mountain. And let no man tell you different. You're a good kid and you got a shitload of talent, I'm just glad that you finally realize it and finally want to realize it. After Crown of War is over and you still feel as if you have something else to prove, call me...and we'll set something up."

[Adrien chuckles himself, then slowly realizes the end of Justin’s statement.]

Adrien: “Wait, do you mean…?”

[Adrien points to the shiny golden belt across Brooks’s shoulder.]

[Justin only shrugs his shoulders and smiles.]

Brooks: "Let's see how Crown of War pans out and we'll go from there. I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. But at the same time, if you still got eyes for it and if it's still on my shoulder, I don't see why can't really see who's the better out of the two."

[Adrien remembers that the last time the two men were in the ring, it ended in a draw that gave both a very bitter taste in their mouth.]

Adrien: “That’s definitely understandable. But I’m sure you can beat Boston. You’re extremely talented athlete yourself, and you have that belt right there for a very good reason.”

Brooks: "Well, I hope so and pretty soon we're going to find out for sure. But win, lose, or God-Forbid Draw...the Double Crown isn't going to define my career but I'm going to define the Double Crown. I got 5 months underneath my reign as the Double Crown Champion and I'm hoping for at least 7 more because when it's all said and done when someone says the Double Crown, my name won't be far after it."

[Adrien chuckles.]

Adrien: “Hey, a few more months and maybe you can break Eduardo Domingo’s record.”

Brooks: "After a few more months...Domingo will be nothing but an after thought."

[Adrien laughs once again. He pats the former HRW Prestige Champion on the shoulder.]

Adrien: “Just make sure you take it to Boston out there tonight.”

[Justin just chuckles as he turns to make his way down the hallway towards his locker room.]

Brooks: "You say it like I was going to do something different."

[Adrien smiles.]

Adrien: “Never doubted. Talk to you later, man.”

[By the time Adrien spoke those last few words, Justin Brooks was already gone. Adrien turned back to the hallway where he was heading to the entrance of the arena.]

Adrien: “Lucky Ramones shirt: check. Wrestling track pants: check. Correct shoes: check. Person that I might be able to work with: check. Will and confidence to finally make a name for myself and win something for once: CHECK! Crown of War, HERE I COME!!”

-----

Angus: Seriously, didn't he turn heel LAST FUCKING WEEK IN II!

DDK: Do you have to keep harping on-

Angus: YES!

DDK: Why?

Angus: Logical. Episodic. Booking. That's all I ask.

DDK: Ha. You ask for something every time you turn your brain on.

Angus: Shutup, I'm a broadcast journalist.

-----

[Backstage.]

[A black WWA banner hangs in the background. Standing in front of the banner is Cobra, the head of the Church of the Serpent and reincarnation of their god Jormungand. Cobra is dressed in his wrestling attire of a full body suit and trademark mask. He stares into the camera with his game face and awaits a cue from the cameraman. Once he gets it, he starts to speak.]

Cobra: "Over the last week or so, there have been a lot of allegations, there have been a lot of rumors, and there have been a lot of crazy stories that spread throughout society. Tonight, I come to answer the allegations, stop the rumors and correct the crazy stories."

[Cobra pauses briefly, trying to think of the best way to continue, with the correct words so that he cannot be misquoted later.]

Cobra: "Cary Weiss was not the crazed gunman that walked into John Glenn High School and started shooting students at random. Cary Weiss was not evil. Cary Weiss was not filled with the evil and sins that this world is consumed with. Cary Weiss was not the monster that the media has made him out to be. Cary Weiss was the victim.

"It is true; Cary Weiss did contact the Church of the Serpent. He was looking for answers. He was seeking help. We did what we thought was best. We gave him the answers that not only did he need to hear, but the answers that were the truth. Cary Weiss was a special boy. He was going to be a major help in our salvation. He was going to help us rebuild society in the eyes of Jormungand. But now that has been taken away from us.

"Cary is just another victim to lose the battle against the sins and evil of this world. He is another victim in this long war. He can not be forgotten. He will not be forgotten. Tonight, I wrestle in the Crown of War match, something that pales in comparison to the fight that Cary has just lost. Tonight, I wrestle in his honor and I dedicate this match to his memory.

"Tonight I face off against 11 sinners. Tonight I face off against 11 men consumed with the evil in this world. The odds are stacked up against, much like the odds of the holy in this war of good against evil. And much like that war, we will have the same result. Good will triumph over evil. Jormungand will lead us to victory in this war, much like I will lead my team to victory at Summer Games.

"Whoever I actually face in the ring tonight, be it Curtis Penn, Nick Journey, Jack Amethyst or even Adrien Cochrane, the end result will be the same. They will pay for their sins. They will be punished for their evil doings. They will be the latest sacrifice in this long hard struggle between good and evil.

"A week ago, we lost a truly amazing child in Cary Weiss. A kid that would have changed the world for the better. Tonight, I get my revenge and I will take eleven men as compensation. I will make those eleven men pay the debt that is owed for the sacrifice of Cary Weiss. Tonight I honor Cary’s name and I will become Warlord of the WWA."

[The camera fades with Cobra staring into it.]

-----

Angus: What flavor Kool-aid do you think they serve out at the Church of the Serpent?

DDK: ANGUS!

Angus: I'm serious. That motherfucker is running a snake-worshipping cult, helter skelter and all of that.

DDK: You just can't keep it shut, can you?

Angus: I refuse.

DDK: Well, it's time to get the action started, it's time to crown a WARLORD of the World Wrestling Alliance!

-----

Crown of War II Match

[All twelve competitors for the Crown of War were guided down to ringside to the triumphant sounds of ancient Rome, recalling the previous Crown of War and Victor Mandrake himself. In accordance with the rules, all twelve of the warriors were handed a card, face down, each containing a number, inside of the ring, our announcer for the evening had the lights drawn down around him, as he became spotlighted for the big moment.]

[He waited for a moment, He called out the number seven, and Curtis Penn slid in to the ring.]

[He called out the number six, and The Angel of Death climbed in.]

[He called out the number one, and Jimmy Riley found himself entered in to the fray.]

[And finally he called out the number four, Parker Smith ventured in to the ring.]

[Parker not hesitating got in the face of Curtis Penn, and a shoving match ensued as the ring announcer ambled out of the ring and Penn and Smith began to exchange hard blows, matching one another blow for blow while Riley and Angel of Death looked on. Neither man wanted to be out of the fray and they both found themselves brawling with the two brawlers apart! Riley with Penn and Angel of Death with Smith!]

[Smith found himself quickly planted with a leaping tornado DDT, right as Riley was staggered with a hard kick to the leg, clutching at his leg, he ducked a hard yakuza kick attempt from Penn which instead met the back of the angel of death's head collapsing him to the mat! Riley quickly rolled up Penn for the first cover of the evening!]

ONE ...

[Smith back to his feet clutching his head pulled the upstart off of his former team, tossing the smaller man aside and trying to pull Penn back to his feet found himself hit with a hard backfist to the stomach, Smith refused to feel the pain and instead both men started exchanging blows AGAIN! Angel of Death incensed at being struck so blindly grabbed Penn from behind, and tried to lift him for a quick elimination with the Going Home! But Riley shoved Smith in to the Angel of Death in a modified two man tackle taking both men down! Riley pulled Parker Smith from the human rubble and quickly executed a bridging German suplex and held on for the pin!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Smith kicked out, and as Riley sat up, he found himself struck by an impromptu Shining Wizard! Curtis Penn quickly leapt in with an aggressive seated side headlock on the Angel of Death, determined to slow down the action, Smith had other ideas he delivered a hard kick to the legs as Angel of Death worked Penn to his feet, Penn not relinquishing the hold slammed the Angel of Death down to the mat! Riley once again snuck behind Smith, but this time Smith fired with a back mule kick sending Riley crashing back in to the ropes! Smith quickly re-focused his attention to lining up a kick on Penn when Riley who had used the momentum off of the ropes crushed Parker Smith with a Northern Lariat!]

[He rolled the limp body of Smith in to a pinfall!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Curtis Penn let go of the headlock!]

THREE!

**Parker Smith is eliminated by Jimmy Riley in 7:25**

[Edward White slid in to the ring, choosing himself for Parker Smith, and also not waiting for the referee to revive Smith long enough to choose! He went right to work stomping the toes of all three men before delivering a succession of eye pokes, bowing to the crowd after performing his deeds! Penn being the nominal tough guy made short work of White's Celebration with a belly to back take-down, the two superstars stumbling in to one another and trading blows, both thinking the other was actually White!]

[Penn set to work on White, quickly moving to a seated armbar, and attempting to stretch White in direction neither he nor his body intended to go, with Riley and Angel of Death finally realizing neither was actually Ed White, both resumed fighting anyways under the pretense the other should have known! White ever the optimist did find the ropes, and Penn was reluctant to give the hold up, but finally did.]

[Angel of Death attempted to come in from behind for a DDT, but Penn sensed he was there and met him head on for an armbar take down! Riley found himself ready to strike down Edward White! The crowd roared with approval! But White dropped to his knees, and Riley, wise to one of wrestling's oldest trick, wasn't falling for it!]

[White hopped to his feet, and quickly reached in to his tights and pulled out a wad of cash! Riley dropped his fist and took the money, quickly turning around to count it! White struck hard, with a thunderous low blow! He followed up with the stock market drop!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

**Jimmy Riley is eliminated by Edward White at 12:03**

[White quickly collected his bank role, and laughed as Riley was rolled out of the ring! Riley weakly pointed at Kevin DuMaurier, who slid in, and was immediately met by an onslaught from White, trying to make sure DuMaurier didn't have even a moment to get his bearings.]

[The two HRW stars began to exchange blows, DuMaurier slugging it out with White, as haymakers of lefts and rights landed from both individuals. DuMaurier managed to gain the upper hand, catching White with a stunning right hook that staggered him. DuMaurier then nailed White with a reverse atomic drop, before sending him to the mat with a clothesline.]

[Angel of Death got out of the hold Penn had on him, and battled the former World tag team champion in the corner. A solid elbow to Penn's chin stunned him, allowing Angel of Death to join DuMaurier in a double team of the current HRW champion, White.]

[With a double Irish whip, DuMaurier and AoD sent White barreling toward the ropes. White rebounded off them, and was met with a double clothesline from DuMaurier and AoD. The duo began to put the boots to White, before Penn, his bearings regained, charged in and leveled AoD with a forearm smash to the back of the head.]

[DuMaurier kept his assault on White going, dropping down on top of the HRW champ, and raining lefts and rights onto his chin. DuMaurier got up off of White, then with a swift boot to the mid-section, doubled White over. DuMaurier followed up with a nicely executed DDT.]

[DuMaurier made a pin attempt on White.]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[No! White with a kickout at the last moment.]

[Penn and Angel of Death continued to grapple by the ropes, as AoD came close to flipping Penn over the top rope, but Penn was able to battle his way out of it with a couple of solid elbows to the side of AoD's jaw.]

[DuMaurier hoisted White up off the mat, and with an Irish whip, sent him into the opposite ropes. DuMaurier charged in after him, looking to nail him once again with a clothesline. But White held on tight to the ropes, halting his momentum completely. Enraged, DuMaurier charged at White, looking to punish him for his sneaky tactic. Instead, White ducked at the last moment, and DuMaurier's momentum carried him over the top rope.]

**Kevin DuMaurier is eliminated by Edward White at 15:15**

[DuMaurier scanned the remaining competitors, and pointed at the sole female athlete in the match, Jane. She slid in to the ring thinking of coming in a house of fire, but instead was met with the boots of the Angel of Death and Curtis Penn, while White seemingly felt the need to talk business strategy with the ref, even going so far as to bribe him! The ref however, felt it his unbiased duty to administer a FIVE count until the money was put away.]

[The crowd feeling the right moment began a "holy shit!" chant as Jane and Penn had managed to regain their feet and engage in an intense lock up wrestling hard to the mat and back to their feet, neither competitor willing to give an inch! It quickly switched to a Greco-Roman knuckle lock, their arms twisting and untwisting, Penn finally getting the back heel trip on her, taking her down to the mat! Jane bridged as White unceremoniously took care of the Angel of Death with a foot stamp in to a drop toe hold maneuver, leapt on the back of Penn as he leapt on to break Jane's bridge! Both men covered her!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

**Jane is eliminated by Curtis Penn and Edward White at 16:35**

[White leapt off Penn's back and went to give him a high five! Penn was not amused! His finger found the chest of White repeatedly in a thumping motion as the crowd ROARED! Meanwhile, Blue Collar Pa hopped on to the ring apron and started dancing! Angel of Death leapt from the top rope and took out both Edward White and Curtis Penn with a huge splash! He leapt to his feet to be met with some theatrical elbow shots from Blue!]

[The crowd chanted "Blue!" as he now traded shots back and forth on The Angel of Death AND Curtis Penn! Ed White was once again content to watch from the safety away from the action, but Blue with some fancy moves got his hands on White! More theatrical punching as the crowd counted everyone followed!]

[Penn and the Angel of Death traded forearm shots meanwhile, neither man willing to give up an inch, the Angel of Death, whipped Penn towards the ropes who reversed it! Angel of Death spring boarded backwards off of the middle rope and hit a back elbow on Penn! NO! Penn caught The Angel of Death with a hard German Suplex!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Edward White makes the save?! The crowd was in shock, as he dusted himself off, Blue Collar Pa, getting up from an ill timed eye rake, charged at White, White being a stockbroker knew it was coming and instead tripped Pa ...]

[Who turned it into a suave cartwheel in to a strut! White was beside himself! And then floored by a high kick from Penn!]

[Penn with another cover!

ONE ...

[Angel of Death Pulled Penn off!]

[Penn SLAPPED the Angel of Death in the mouth, pointing at White and yelling at him! Blue Collar Pa leaned in with a double head knock on both men! A meeting of the minds! Pa followed up with a DOUBLE Russian leg sweep on both men! White, back on his feet, grabbed the intertwined ankles and went for a TRIPLE cover!]

ONE ...

[All three men SHOT White off of them, and he flopped around the ring like a fish out of water! Angel of Death, Curtis Penn, and Blue Collar Pa all went right after White, who had the bank roll out again! Pa slapped it out of his hands! Penn lined up a head shot styled kick! But Angel of Death put his arm across his chest, calling him off! Angel of Death measured him for a dropkick! But Blue Collar Pa called him off! He pointed to the other two men, who all nodded, white got back to his feet and began dusting himself off until ALL THREE men hit him simultaneously with a punch!]

[White once again flopped around the mat as Pa went for the high fives, and neither of the other men were in a jovial mood, Penn firing off a kick to his leg and Angel of Death hitting Penn quickly with a DDT, Pa rubbing his leg, dropped his other good leg on to Edward White and hooked the leg for a cover.]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[White looked ready to kick out!]

THREE!

[But not before a hard head stomp from Curtis Penn!]

[Edward White groggily tried to argue the count, but the referee remembering the earlier attempt at a bribe let it go!]

**Edward White is eliminated by Blue Collar Pa at 28:56**

[Adrien Cochrane slid in to the ring behind the dancing Pa and shoved him to the ground laying in a barrage of fists! Angel of Death sensed a strong opportunity to take a risk and springboard up to the top rope...

[ONLY TO BE SHOVED OFF to the floor by Curtis Penn!]

**Angel of Death is eliminated by Curtis Penn at 30:00**

[Jack Amethyst, sick of playing by the rules, slid in to the ring, WITH A CHAIR! The referee hoped between Amethyst and the competitors but was shoved rudely out of the way! Adrien looked up from the top of Pa...]

[CRACK!]

[And a Steel chair was found wrapped around his head! Amethyst shrugged and spun for a discuss elbow blow on the stunned Curtis Penn, but he blocked! Amethyst like a dervish whirled again and this time leveled the Blue Collared one! Penn retaliated with a hard kick to Amethyst's arm and snap-mared him over, following in with a stiff thudding boot to Amethyst's spine! Amethyst stood up and spit in Penn's FACE!]

[Penn once again went with the snap-mare! Amethyst slid forward avoiding back kick and throwing up a middle finger! ONLY TO CATCH A SHOT IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD!]

[Penn moved in for the cover, but Blue took him down with a double leg take down as Cochrane was finding his feet, chair still over his head!]

[Cobra finally tired of wasting away outside of the ring came in with a vengeance, mowing down Cochrane and Blue Collar Pa, and the Dazed Amethyst! Journey realizing he was completely left out sprung to the apron with fire and shot himself in with a rolling top on Penn, only to meet eye to eye with Cobra! He fired an elbow at the big man, and suddenly found himself on the mat with the other four men! Cobra pulled up Blue Collar Pa and Locked in the COBRA CLUTCH!]

[Pa refused to give it up, fighting valiantly to grab the ropes, Cobra pulled him back to the middle of the ring though!]

[PA pushed back with his weight and Cobra refused to relinquish the hold! PA trying to desperately get a foot on the ropes!]

[COBRA'S SHOULDERS WERE PINNED!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[COBRA ROLLED ON TO HIS SIDE! But wouldn't break the hold! PA had stopped fighting! THE REF CALLED FOR THE SUBMISSION!]

**Blue Collar Pa is eliminated by Cobra at 36:23**

[Cochrane in a fit of rage blood streaming down his face from the chair shot, charged at Cobra, a flying elbow coming his way! Cobra shook it off! Amethyst made it clear it was all Penn at this point, and as Soon as Penn stepped up to measure Cobra up for a kick, Amethyst pulled him down by the head!]

[The crowd booed this turn of events as Amethyst started dropping elbows to the chest of Penn! Hopping to his feet and greeting his jeering public he measured him for a moonsault! But he had forgotten about Cobra! Who stepped over Penn and caught him mid air! And spiked him on his head with a a belly to belly pile driver!]

[The crowd chanted "Holy shit!" as Cobra covered.]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[COBRA BROKE THE PIN HIMSELF!]

[CRACK!]

[Cochrane takes down the cult leader with a chair! Cochrane turns his attention to Curtis Penn, He misses the chair shot! Back heel kick to the stomach! Journey with a Bulldog Take down!]

[PENN WITH A PUNT TO JOURNEY'S HEAD! A Cover!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Journey Kicks out! Cochrane pulls Penn off of Journey and plants him with a DDT! Cobra grabs Adrien from behind with a head vice! And Levels the small man with a headbutt! Cochrane goes down as Cobra faced down Jack Amethyst and Curtis Penn! Both men, working with similar goals in mind struck him simultaneously with a discus elbow strike and stiff sternum kick! Cobra Went down, and the alliance was short as Penn received an eye rake for his trouble!]

[Journey regaining his feet executed and caught Amethyst with a tilt-a-whirl powerbomb! He went for the cover! As Adrien climbed the top rope!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Amethyst kicked out! Journey up to his feet was caught with a Dragon Rana by Cochrane!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

**Nick Journey is eliminated by Adrien Cochrane at 43:10.**

[The crowd was in shock as Adrien celebrated being in the final four! A bit too much perhaps as he was quickly caught turning around by Penn's your face is fucked! Penn hit it with such force it turned Adrien inside out!]

[Penn went for the cover!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

[NO! Jack Amethyst broke the pin fall! Penn once again has no clue as to what the deal is with Amethyst, but he finds out when a low blow proceeds a hard elbow strike! Adrien woozily found his feet and stumbled right in to Cobra! Cobra grabbed Adrien by the throat! Amethyst seeing his shot, hit the ropes and dove in from behind!]

[Pancaking Cobra on top of Cochrane with the Jacked UP I! Cobra rolled off of Cochrane who was picked up by Amethyst! He played to the Crowd and hit his rolling cutter, Adrien's feet spinning conveniently in to Cobra's masked face! Amethyst covered! NO ADRIEN ROLLED THROUGH!]

[SMALL PACKAGE!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[AMETHYST KICKED OUT!]

[And he was furious! He pulled the groggy Cochrane to his feet again! ANOTHER JACKED UP!]

[NOOOO!]

[Penn executed another Your Face is Fucked! Amethyst is down! Cochrane hit a low blow on PENN! The crowd booed in shock. He rolled Penn up with a schoolboy!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Penn kicked out! Amethyst back to his feet, grabbed Cochrane and hoisted him on to his shoulders ...]

[SAN DIEGO SUNRISE!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

**Adrien Cochrane has been eliminated by Jack Amethyst at 51:00**

[Amethyst found his feet and time to rub it in the crowd's face. And he found time to be locked in the Cobra Clutch, Amethyst looked desperately at Penn, who was sweating heavy from the exertion of being in the match for close to an hour, Amethyst flailed about trying to strike the masked cult leader from his position, but Cobra just inched him back to the middle of the ring, not yielding to the attempts to break the hold by the smaller man!]

[Amethyst tried to find a base but Cobra just lifted the man up!]

[Penn had finally had enough of this.]

[Cobra's masked expression almost dared Penn to make a move, and reaching in to the old Chimera play book.]

[He hit Amethyst with a high kick to the head with laser like precision!]

[Amethyst went limp in the big man's arms, who wouldn't relinquish the hold!]

[The ref lifted Amethyst's arms three times and in succession they dropped!]

**Jack Amethyst has been eliminated by Cobra at 54:21**

[And then there were two.]

[Penn clearly in the worse shape from being the second contestant drawn was faced with a much fresher Cobra, and Penn was not one to back down from the challenge!]

[He came in a sweaty house of fire! Kick's reigned like lightning in to the thigh of Cobra! Who merely shoved the smaller man away with a pie face!]

[Penn refused to back down and immediately struck him with a YOUR FACE IS FUCKED! The big man toppled!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

[NO COBRA GOT A SHOULDER UP! The crowd was in disbelief! Penn pulled him to his feet, breathing heavily, and hit the ropes again! He leapt!]

[NO! he was caught by Cobra! Powerbomb! Cobra picked Penn up again! ANOTHER Powerbomb, and Penn was picked up a third time! And charges forward! SNAKEBITE!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

[NO! Penn got an arm on the ropes!]

[Cobra picked up Penn and wrenched him away from the ropes and covered again!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[Penn Kicked out!]

[The crowd came alive! Cobra pulled Penn up with every intention of locking the Cobra clutch in! But Penn mustered a twisting enzuigiri! Cobra Staggering, Penn followed up with a high kick that toppled Cobra in to the ropes!]

[Penn charged in with a running knee strike, and Cobra fell out to the floor!]

[Penn bounced off of the opposite ropes and dove between the first and second ropes! Striking Cobra hard in to the guardrail! With no count the referee was left only to deliver admonishments to both men! Penn pulled Cobra out of the guardrail and rolled him back in to the ring and slid under the bottom rope in following him. Penn pulling Cobra to his feet and tried to whip the cult leader in to the corner but Cobra resisted instead turning Penn inside out with a lariat!]

[Cobra picked up Penn and AGAIN hit the Snakebite but instead of slamming him in to the mat he slammed Penn in to the corner! Penn stumbling out was hit with a big powerbomb again, and this time Cobra slid forward with a prawn hold putting all of his weight on Penn's shoulders!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREEE!

[DING, DING, DING!]

**Curtis Penn is eliminated by Cobra at 1:05:02**

“Your winner! And the 2009 Warlord ... COBRA!”

-----

DDK: WOW!

Angus: Are you kidding me?

DDK: I mean, just, WOW!

Angus: Like I said half an hour ago, WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE GET CURTIS PENN OUT OF THE FUCKING RING!

DDK: Yeah, well, he's lying on the mat exhausted right now!

Angus: Pussy.

DDK: The man just wrestled for over an hour, and to end it off went toe to toe with the man who only a few weeks ago was the World Champion, and you're calling him names?

Angus: Christ yes!

DDK: Why?

Angus: I'm still pissed off he got that DQ win on Dane in WC:C!

DDK: Oh let it go!

Angus: NEVER!

DDK: Well that was one HELL of a way to start off a Pay-Per-View, but now I'm getting word that the challenger for tonight's Main Event, Eduardo Domingo, is arriving to the arena!

Angus: Aren't all wrestlers supposed to be in the building two hours prior to showtime?

DDK: Give it a rest, would you?

-----

[There's a sudden cut to a shot of the parking lot outside the arena. A white Land Cruiser pulls up around the back of the Air Canada Centre. There's little interest in the late arrival, most of the fans who were gathered outside earlier having already made their way inside. Eduardo Domingo steps out of the vehicle to a nice reaction from the few people who're still around. He goes to the back of the SUV, popping it open and taking out a pair of crutches. Meanwhile the passenger side door of the vehicle opens as Freddy Phoenix begins to gingerly make his exit.]

Fan: "Eduardo Domingo... NEXT WORLD CHAMPION BABY!"

[Domingo gives a wave to the overzealous fan before heading over to help Freddy out of the SUV. Eduardo hands the crutches to his mentor. Freddy takes a moment to steady himself, looking a little awkward in the process.]

Freddy: "Thanks kid, I've got it."

[Eduardo heads back to his side and reaches into the Land Cruiser. He pulls a black duffel bag from the back seat and slings it over his shoulder. A slam of the door later and the two men are headed toward the building. Eduardo makes a noticeable effort to get a little ahead of his manager as they get close to the entrance. He holds the door open for Freddy.]

Eduardo: "You sure you're up to this?"

[Freddy Phoenix looks at his protege with a grin as he heads through the door.]

Freddy: "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

[With that Eduardo follows him in, the door closing behind them.]

-----

DDK: Well?

Angus: Well what?

DDK: What've you got to say about Eduardo Domingo?

Angus: Nothing.

DDK: Are you serious?

Angus: I like Freddy Phoenix, and Brad Jackson beat him up, I hope Eduardo shoots him in the face.

DDK: You would.

-----

[Boston sighed deeply as he sat on the folding chair, slowly putting the Velcro straps through the plastic loops of his knee brace. Doing that promo and not falling into his gloomy, self-pitying mindset was really fucking hard. He had struggled to keep his voice steady, and even hateful, at times. He just wanted to apologize to them all, and plead uselessness...]

[But if nothing else, he had to make sure that the New York native would get cheers in a totally different country.]

[What was he doing this for, though, if he didn't have his wife and son anymore? He knew that Karen would win custody when she did finally file for divorce. Why did he bother giving a shit about his job when he didn't have the only things that really mattered to him anymore?]

[Boston let out a sigh as he tightened the strap, and secured it to itself with the Velcro at the tip. At least he had made some friends, recently. He had found himself struggling to do that in the new feds he kept going to...]

[Hell, Brooks had been a better friend to him after Between Hell and High Water than many others he claimed as friends. Dude had traded road stories and jokes for a good long time with Boston, helping keep his mind off his family troubles. It had been... nice, honestly.]

[Boston ached for a drink.]

[He was a professional, though. He'd wait until after Crown of War to drink... But boy, oh boy, was he gonna live it up off this paycheck.]

[Not until after Jackson/Domingo, though. If Jackson won, Boston might find himself in World Title contention. And if Domingo won, Boston could try to demand a match with Jax over #1 contendership for the World Title...]

[If he lost to Brooks. Which was definitely possible. Despite the disadvantages of the pressure and responsibility of being a type of World Champ, Brooks didn't have to beat Boston. He just had to not lose.]

[Boston hadn't slept well since Karen walked out on him. He was waking up earlier and earlier, and working out more and more. Since he had come to Toronto, his schedule had been waking up before he wanted to, going for a run, working out longer and longer, coming back to his hotel room after stopping at the liquor store, and undoing all his hard work exercising with several thousand calories of booze, drinking himself into a stupor, and falling asleep the only way he really could fall asleep these days.]

[He hadn't let anyone know that this was how he was spending his time... But the routine was soothing. It was helping scab over the emotional wounds. Boston didn't bristle at the name "Rob" anymore. He wasn't spending evenings sitting, phone in hand, tempted to call Karen, beg her to forgive him and let him see her and Jeremy again...]

[He honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to win the Double Crown. So much responsibility and pressure, if he won the belt. Sure, he'd make himself a name, but he'd also have so much more weighing on him... What if he lost the title on his first defense? What if he never beat anybody, and ended up a joke champ? The title histories of the World and Double Crown titles were littered with people who won the titles and lost them maybe a week or a month later, and were never heard from again.]

[Could he deal with that pressure? Would he choke? Or would he just lose this match and try to win the SSB heavyweight title, maybe get another shot at something down the line...]

"But that'd take so damn long..."

[He sighed, head hanging. He wasn't miraculously getting younger. How much longer could he expect to keep wrestling, especially at a main event level? He'd blow out his knee again eventually, or would get some new, interesting injury that would make life difficult for him.]

[And then, he'd fade into irrelevancy, like so many other wrestlers who had been so-called "big names".]

[Boston sighed, putting his head into his hands. He had absolutely no idea what to do. And he'd stay that way until something would bump him from his misery.]

[Maybe, now that everything was going wrong for him, one of his parents would die, and he'd have a midlife crisis.]

[He REALLY wanted a fucking drink.]

"Only because I'm your friend... I know Boston behind the scenes can I tell you that you are really one convincing asshole."

[There could be only person who had the stones to step into Boston Bancroft's locker room... And that was the man that he'd go to war with in less than fifteen minutes.]

[The Double Crown Champion himself... Justin Brooks.]

"But then again... Sometimes I wonder if you being an asshole in the ring and being an asshole backstage is the same guy. And you know what? I wonder if it's all an act..."

[Justin grinned, chuckling softly, as he stepped into the locker room, wearing his gray Syracuse hoodie and his ring trunks, those black mesh shorts. Over one shoulder is the piece of gold and black leather that the two of them would go to war for, bleed for, hurt for, and wound one another over... The WWA Double Crown Championship.]

"I would ask you how are you feeling... But I think I know the answer already. And you know I'm not talking about the match."

[Justin took a seat next to Boston, glancing at him, giving a soft smile. Boston's random voice-mail had shed a light on the pain that the man was having to deal with, and having to live through. This life wasn't easy... And this life wasn't for everyone. But Boston had been the type of person that Justin secretly wanted to be, even though he would never want to admit it. And more than likely... he never would.]

"Look man, I didn't come here to get all goo-goo with you. I just want to come and tell you a few things."

[Justin stood with a smile on his face.]

"First... I'm going to be a Dad pretty soon... And you're the first person I've told outside of my brother. And when this kid decides to squirt out... If you can squeeze it in, I would like you to come and see him. Although, you'd better be there or I'll hunt your black ass down."

[Justin pointed a finger at Boston to prove his point.]

"And two... I'm going to kick your ass tonight."

[Justin laughed as he patted Boston on the back and turned to make his way out of his locker room.]

"Listen... Justin. Life's not treating me well right now... But I'm happy for you, man. Keep me posted on th' kid. I'll be there for ya."

[His voice was raspy and rough... He hadn't been doing much talking since his promo... Or in the last couple days.]

"And you might kick my ass, but that doesn't mean you'll win."

[Boston grinned a bit.]

"Bigger and badder men than you have tried and failed. And I'm gonna kick your ass right back. The only guy who knows how this is gonna end..."

[Boston smirked, the first real smile he had given in what felt like waaaaaay too long.]

"Is the ref that I gave twenty bucks to. See you out there, man."

[Boston bent, lacing up his boot, as Brooks snickered, rolled his eyes, and left. Good thing Boston wasn't letting any cameramen anywhere near his locker room... That could have undone all of Boston's hard work getting the crowd to hate him.]

-----

Angus: Did we just watch Boston Bancroft lace his boots and put on his knee-brace in silence for four minutes before Brooks came in and saved the day?

DDK: Well, ah, yes.

Angus: Jesus... I bet he doesn't even think the cameras were in there.

DDK Well, Cameras hare pretty hard to miss, not to mention the guy holding them...

Angus: SPY CAMERAS, MAN!

DDK: I don't get you.

Angus: As well you shouldn't.

DDK: Well, it's time for the Double Crown title match, let's send it down to the ring and see if these two can deliver the goods!

-----

WWA Double Crown Title Defense
Justin Brooks (c) vs. Boston Bancroft

[The lights in the arena drop, bathing the whole arena in beautiful, perfect darkness. Before too long, cell phones begin to light up, the faces held up over the fan's heads, little dots of bright blue light. It was beautiful, like a million stars studded throughout the Air Canada Centre.]

[A long rack of bright red spinning police lights begin to flicker to life, the teensy motors inside beginning to run faster and faster, spinning the beam of light outwards. Soon enough, as the air raid siren began to wail, a lonely, stark sound, before the heavy drumbeats began to keep pace.]

[A few moments... And one of the most familiar guitar chords in music history hit. Faith No More blared over the house speakers, "War Pigs" playing to show the entrance of the one, the only, the Spoiler...]

"COMING FIRST TO THE RING, WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED FORTY POUNDS..."

[The curtains parted, and out from the back stepped the big, powerful black man. A deep red spotlight hit the entrance way, making him glisten in hellish light, beads of moisture on his head looking for all the world like blood. Arms spread, extending out to either side, in a cross pose. Legs spread some, Boston's eyes closing as he stood, bathing in the boos of the Canadian fans.]

"FROM BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS..."

[Boston let his head fall back for a moment, before he spun the baseball bat in his hand deftly, and began to walk down towards the ring. He avoided either side of the entryway ramp, ignoring the fans. They were having wildly mixed reactions to him, from waving and cheering because they had seen his work for years... To flipping him off and booing him.]

[He headed to ringside, and dove in, under the bottom rope. The kneebrace on his left leg glinted in the light, as he rose to his feet from a crouching position. He raised that bat into the air, pointing the blunt end skyward, slowly looking around. As the fans booed, he took the whole arena, packed with fans, in.]

"BOSTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON BAAAAAAAAAANCROOOOOOOOOOFT!"

[Boston tossed the bat to the floor at ringside, before peeling that golden bust t-shirt off. He never wrestled with t-shirts on... With pecs like that, why bother covering up? He scissored his arms across his chest, flexing out his shoulders and arms as he turned, looking to the entryway ramp for his opponent.]

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

[Fuck.]

[Tha.]

[Frail.]

[Shit!]

[The rap blasted over the house speakers, the HRW and the WWA 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?]*

"HE IS THE WWA DOUBLE CROWN CHAMPION..."*

[The dark-skinned wrestler came out, onto the ramp, and threw his hands skyward, with the WWA Double Crown Title over his waist. He's gone from the HRW to the GEC... and now, Justin Brooks had finally to Toronto, Canada!.]*

"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 the arena.]

[The Belt was held high and shown to the entire crowd in the great tradition of belts displays, before the ref folded the belts in his hands and handed it off to the ringside official.]

[The big match atmosphere was there as both men stood in their respective corners for a minute eying the other up before they began to circle each other, This circling continued for a full rotation around the ring until they stopped, and Brooks put his hands on his hips, as if to ask when something was going to happen. Boston being the man that he is strode to the center of the ring, and Brook followed suit, and suddenly they were face to face intense stares on both men's face, neither backing down an inch, Suddenly, Boston SHOVED Justin Brooks! Brooks staggered backwards.]

[Boston smiled and pointed right at his own chin, daring Brooks to hit him! Brooks was happy to oblige delivering a thunderous shoulder tackle that staggered Boston back to the ropes! Brooks urged Boston to bring it on! Boston, face blank as slate, returned with a charging knee! Brooks spun around and delivered another staggering shoulder tackle! Neither man willing to give an inch Boston motioned for Brooks to hit the ropes, AGAIN!]

[Brooks again hit the rope, and the heavy dull thud of flesh on flesh was again felt as another shoulder tackle connected squarely on Boston's strong features. Boston shoved the younger man again who hit the ropes, only to be met with another charging knee! Brooks on the ropes delivered a hard forearm shot that took them back to the center of the ring, where Boston hit his own hard forearm shot.]

[Once again neither man was willing to back down, so Boston hit the ropes and struck with a hard palm strike to the shoulder of Brooks, Brooks bounced off of the ropes and hit a hard charging forearm strike of his own, Boston again bounced off of the ropes, though this time Brooks met him with a hard forearm strike at the same time as he was struck with a palm strike and BOTH men went down, rolling outside of the ring opposite of one another to shake off the blows.]

[Both men take a second to shake it out and assess the situation before rolling back in to the ring, the opening portion of the match a stalemate.]

[Boston moved in the collar and elbow tie up with brooks, but brooks being younger and more spry shoved Boston off in to the corner. Boston came in again, and quickly transitioned to a standing headlock, wrenching in his advantage, but Brooks again using youthful power pushed out of the hold.]

[Boston moved in again, wrenching in the hard headlock, and Brooks tried again to power out of the move, but this time the spoiler, spoiled the attempt and blocked the break, pushing Brooks back in to the corner, the ref moved in for the five count, Boston put his hands up, and quickly delivered a STRONG knee to the midsection of Brooks, drawing the ire of the crowd! Boston quickly hit the ropes and returned to the corner with a STIFF big boot to the jaw of Brooks, which Boston lived up while he clambered out of the position, he rolled Brooks on to the ground and applied a figure four necklock to the younger man, to give himself some room to breathe, and to wear down his younger opponent.]

[Brooks tried his hardest to work out of the hold, first utilizing some attempts to slip, but upon realizing that the grasp held by Boston was too strong, he switched tactics, trying to wear down the older man's thighs with a series of hard closed fists. When these attempts yielded Boston putting more weight on his own hips increasing the pressure of the hold, Brooks attempted to roll out of the hold, but Boston using his experience, would only counterweight making rolling out of the hold extremely difficult.]

[Brooks' inexperience, led him to attempt thrashing and rolling his way out, a grin spreading across Boston's face as he realized he had Brooks, the ref kept a constant check on Brooks, just in case he wanted to be the first man to tap out of a figure four neck crank. Boston feeling the positive effects of a long rest hold, released the move, and quickly pulled Brooks to his feet, hitting a series of hard forearms before dumping his man over with a release belly to belly suplex, before moving quickly in to a stretch muffler!]

[Brooks fought the move valiantly, twisting to disallow Boston to sit down in to the move. Brooks managed to work himself in to the position to grab the ropes! The official administered the five count and the hold was broken at four and a half, and as soon as Brooks had released the ropes, Boston was back on him with a half crab, working the legs of the big man, in an effort to erode his power base.]

[Once again though Brooks would refuse submission and the length of the hold, once again reaching the ropes.]

[And Once again the hold was broken, this time, Brooks slid out of the ring to work off the damage done to his leg, and Boston wasn't going to allow the champ to dictate the pace, sliding out of the ring and meeting Brooks around the corner with a hard forearm strike, dazed, Brooks was easily whipped in to the guardrail hard, his back crashing hard in to it, and pain etched across his face. Boston feeling a tour of the guard rails was a necessity sent Brooks careening in to the guard rail opposite of where he currently was.]

[Boston took his time, playing to the crowd and making sure that everyone in the front row KNEW who was in control of this match. As he swaggered over to Brooks, the lunging headbutt to the sternum came as a surprise, followed by the big running clothesline to drop Boston to the mats! The referee had been administering a count this entire time, and Brooks rolled in to the ring to stop and restart it, the referee quick to deliver a quick word about keeping it in the ring, and Brooks nodded before ignoring him and laying some stomps in to Boston.]

[Pull the spoiler up by his head, a few stiff forearms preceding Boston crashing back first in to the ring frame!]

[The Crowd roared as Brooks nodded and moved in for the kill!]

[Rolling Boston up on to the apron itself, and climbing up as well, He quickly picked up Boston and dropped him down across the ring frame with a front powerslam! Brooks slapped some hands at ringside before rolling Boston back in to the ring! Climbing up on to the apron himself he was met by a desperate palm strike from Boston, sagging Brooks against the ropes! Turning Brooks around, he locked in a Half-Nelson which Brooks tried his best to fight!]

[But Boston was able to dump him on his head! Brooks fought through the pain and grabbed Boston from behind and took him down with a release German Suplex! Boston showing the same grit as his younger counterpart retaking his feet he grabbed Brooks and slammed him down hard with a spinning powerslam! Brooks not going to be out done, despite suffering from the move, regained his feet and took Boston down with an exceptionally hard powerslam of his own! Boston arched in pain before regaining his feet! Another stalemate met!]

[A forearm! And another! Brooks responds with forearms of his own! Back and forth the two big men would exchange forearms, the pace naturally slacking as the damage from the slams and hard blows would wear them down! Brooks hit another hard forearm, and using the momentum for it Boston went for a roaring palm strike!]

[Brooks caught him! He lifts him up for the flashover! NO! Boston fights back down to a standing position! Brooks found himself going skyward for a brainbuster, but he fought himself back down to a standing position! Brooks delivered some shots to the guts and once again hoisted Boston up for the Flashover, but he over rotated on the move and landed behind Brooks, trying to hook him in for the Experience's Price! Locking in the reverse chancery! Boston would try to Roll brooks over and finish him off, but Brooks would simply sit down, and force Boston to again try to work the slam, Brooks dead weight proving to be the deciding advantage!]

[Boston being forced to reassess his game plan, applied a rear chinlock, digging his knee in to the spine of Brooks, his frustration at not being able to execute clearly on his face.]

[Transitioning to a side headlock, Brooks would quickly push to his feet and break the hold. Both men standing in the center of the ring, eying the other.]

[Brooks would launch off of the ropes with a shoulder tackle, and Boston would return the favor, both men trying to show their strength at even this late point, and trying to exert their will, as they traded bruising shoulder tackles in the middle of the ring, purple intermingling with their ebony features. Brooks would score the decisive advantage able to hit a lifting shoulder tackle that staggered Boston!]

[Brooks would measure him up and come charging for the spear, but the more experienced man would have it scouted! Leap frogging Brooks he would hit the ropes himself, hitting a hard bicycle kick to Brooks that would level him and Boston would slump to the mat as well!]

[Both men Down!]

[The ref would begin the count!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE ...

FOUR ...

FIVE ...

SIX ...

SEVEN ...

[Both men stirring to their feet and reaching it. They come together forehead to forehead in the middle of the ring, jawing at one another, Boston fires a hard elbow strike to Brooks' jaw, and he returns the favor, neither man willing to let up on the hard hitting in this late stage, Boston AGAIN with a blow that would stagger any other man, and Brooks would return the favor again, neither man willing to have their will broken, or allowing the other man to impose their own!]

[Again! And Again! Elbows and forearm strikes, the crowd chanting for them to not stop! Boston catches an opening and spins Brooks around!]

[BACKSLIDE!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

[NO! Brooks kicks out, they meet again in the center of the ring and more elbows are exchanged! Brooks hits a front powerslam out of no where! BOSTON TO HIS FEET AND HITS HIS OWN SPINNING POWERSLAM! Brooks to his feet, Boston meets him! Collar and Elbow tie up! Both men wrestling down to the mat and rolling around, neither man with an advantage! Back to their feet! Brooks goes behind ...]

[SCHOOLBOY!]

ONE ...

TWO ...

THREE!

[Ding, Ding, Ding!]

[Boston kicks out a millisecond to late! Brooks retains!]

[Winner: Justin Brooks via pinfall.]

-----

DDK: BROOKS RETAINS! BROOKS RETAINS!

Angus: Wow, I'm speechless. Sort of.

DDK: Say what you will about Boston Bancroft, but he just put in a five-star performance! If he'd have been in the ring with _anyone_ else in the World Wrestling Alliance, he'd be having his hand raised right now!

Angus: Whatever, this is the best thing that could have happened to Boston, he just showed the world he can go, and he's got a win over the current World Champion. That guy is the man to beat in SSB, he's got a huge future in the WWA.

DDK: I won't debate you there. Now, let's let the action out here settle down a bit and check in backstage!

-----

[The Sex Symbols walk into the Air Canada Centre later than they’d wanted to. As they walk down the hallway they see a familiar face that they’ve known for years from back in their days in White Mountain Wrestling.]

[Parker “By Gawd” Smith]

[A man that JD Hart has some respect for and a man that Sean Peters hates with a passion.]

[The duo walks up to him, Sean grinding his teeth and JD flashing his trademarked multi-million dollar smile.]

JD: “Hey Parker, how are you?”

[JD extends his hand in a respectful way.]

Parker: “I’m good, a little upset over not winning, but good. I’m ready to leave after this Crown of War event and get back to Pro Wrestling: Summit, yourself?”

[Sean looks at him with his blinders on. He stares so hard that he can almost see Parker’s soul.]

JD: “Yeah I’m good; I’m looking forward to getting back the WWA World Tag Team Titles.”

Parker: “I hear you. Jon and I loved those titles; we defended them almost on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. Not many teams have ever done that before or since.”

[Sean stone-faced and quiet startles JD since Sean’s usually very vocal.]

JD: “Yeah, that’s true. Sean, you ok?”

[Sean nods his head and never takes his eyes off Parker.]

JD: “Well this is awkward.”

Parker: “You’re telling me.”

[Dumbfounded, JD just ignores Sean.]

JD: “Okay, well Parker I’ve got a question for you, we need someone to make sure that no one interrupts our match would you make sure no one steps foot outside the back?”

Parker: “Due to the respect I have for the WWA World Tag Team Titles yes, but this doesn’t mean we’re now friends.”

[Sean clears his throat and breaks his silence.]

Sean: “You fucking got that right.”

[JD looks at Sean with confusion plastered on his face.]

Sean: “What, I hate this fucker.”

[JD shakes his head in disgust as Sean walks off away from JD and Parker.]

JD: “Sean’s having…”

[Parker cuts him off.]

Parker: “It’s cool; he doesn’t have to like me.”

[JD shrugs and extends his hand again.]

JD: “Yeah we’ll I’ll see you later.”

[JD walks off leaving Parker alone.]

-----

Angus: You know what I hate about The Sex Symbols?

DDK: I'm sure you're going to tell me.

Angus: One of them is an okay guy, gets along with everyone, and the other one is a douchebag, which I'm fine with by the way, it's just an odd pairing.

DDK: It's true that most successful teams in Alliance history were a lot more like-minded, but you can't argue with their accolades.

Angus: I guess not, their sexual preference, maybe, but not their accolades...

DDK: Well, Team ELITE is backstage now with some comments of their own.

Angus: You mean the Team ELITE that just got done whipping up on Hart and Peters?

DDK: You know I do.

Angus: Sweet, let's do it!

-----

[The backdrop of the World Wrestling Alliance logo hangs down from a wall backstage. Standing before the backdrop is Team ELITE: Daniel Corey and Chris Butler, also joined by PW:S wrestler Carlos Rodriguez.]

[Corey, the leader is dressed a black and red "TE Brand" hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans and white sneakers. His bleached blond hair is short and spiked, while is trails down into his thin brown goatee. He is creepily smiling at the camera.]

Corey: "Hello wrestling fans, this is your boy DeeCee in the place to be. We are live here at the Rogers Centre, the home of the Blue Jays and tonight, Crown of War."

[Corey slowly lets his smile fade to a more serious face. Butler, the muscle bound freak of nature, looks straight on with his half inch long black hair. He's also dressed in the black and red sweatshirt Corey is also rocking, along with blue jeans and a tan pair of Timberlands.]

Corey: "We're here tonight to be spectators of the next match. You see, we've become good friends with the Sex Symbols lately; and when I say friends, I mean bitter, evil rivals, man. JD Hart and Sean Peters are very overrated."

[Rodriguez, clearly not a fan of Corey's but a friend of Butler's, just shakes his head in disapproval. The Puerto Rican is wearing blue jeans, an orange Nike hooded sweatshirt, plus he has on a Puerto Rican flag bandana and orange and white Nike Air Forces. Corey looks over at C-Rod before looking back at the camera.]

Corey: "I mean, shit, Big Chris and I are the best tag team in the world. We've been saying it since the beginning and we'll keep saying it. The "TE Brand" is hotter than ever, as we've conquered the world. We have excommunicated C.J. Rowell from our ranks and we're now better because of it. We're better than we've ever been and going where places we've never been."

[Butler nods his head and rubs his hands together.]

Corey: "The "TE Brand" is more than just a team, bitches. We're the army, navy, coast guard and marines rolled up into one, times six. We're cooler than the Gallactica and more famous than the Enterprise. When the time comes, it'll be us holding those belts high above our heads."

[Corey grins a huge grin.]

Corey: "Prove us wrong."

[The three turn and walk right out of the camera's view, just leaving the WWA logo in sight.]

-----

Angus: Now that's an act I can get behind.

DDK: Of course it is.

Angus: I mean, they're no Team Danger, but they've got some potential.

DDK: How much do they pay you to mention Team Danger every seven seconds?

Angus: Twenty bucks a plug, and a hundred when I can get you to say it! HA!

DDK: ...

-----

[In the locker room sits the Sex Symbols, JD Hart and Sean Peters as they get prepared and await their first opportunity to get their WWA World Tag Team Titles back around their sexy trim waists.]

JD: "Here we go for the gold once again. I'm so pumped that nothing else matters right now."

Sean: "Fucking aye, I'm going to kill Wraith and the Great Milenko. I'll shit down their throats and make them like it."

[JD flashes his million dollar smile, his pearly whites glisten from the florescent lights.]

JD: "Yeah we'll get our revenge like we did against Preacher Fate and Omega Zero. We're the best tag team to EVER come out of the WWA and to Canada. Canadians only care about two things hockey and well...maybe hockey's all. We'll show them why the newest versions of hockey here tonight."

[Sean nods his head and starts wrapping his tape around his left wrist.]

Sean: "After the Gathering we go to S*Pro in Japan, then we come back to Canada and take our fucking International Influence Open-Weight Tag Team Titles away from Team Elite. Those got damned cock sucking bitches."

[Sean's temper is rising and he's ready to wrestle. Tonight there will be no rasslin' it’s only going to be a wrestling clinic.]

-----

Angus: Okay, seriously, who booked this shit? Two TSS segments within five minutes? Don't these people understand overkill? Within ten minutes we've got Hart and Peters on the screen for two segments and a match.

DDK: I don't see your point.

Angus: THE CROWD IS DEAD!

DDK: It's been a long night.

Angus: You're such a fucking shill. You're not invited to my Deathmatch tournament.

-----

WWA World Tag Team Title Defense
The Gathering (c) vs. The Sex Symbols

[The Sex Symbols came out to the ring first to Sharp Dressed Man by ZZ Top, greeting the jeers of the fans along the way.]

[The Gathering came sauntering out to the ring to the sounds of Halls of Illusion by Insane Clown Posse.]

[With Both teams in the ring, the bell was rung, and The Wraith and Sean Peters started out in the ring, though Peters used his strength to his advantage, The Wraith was harder than he appeared to be moved. Peter's frustrations led him to try to out strike the Wraith who no sold everything, drawing the ire of wrestling fans everywhere, lambasting him with a “You Can't Wrestle!” chant. Tags were made, and The Sex Symbols quickly found themselves with the upper hand, working over the old injury on the Great Milenko.]

[After a series of double teams, The Great Milenko found himself cornered, and the Sex Symbols quickly executed their Sexual Attraction, and The Great Milenko quickly clutched at his knee, as he was covered quickly for the three count!]

[The Sex Symbols had regained their world tag team titles, and made sure to let everyone know about it, while ringside officials attended to the Great Milenko, who seemed to have aggravated his old knee injury.]

[Winners: The Sex Symbols via Pinfall]

-----

DDK: You know, I've been in this industry for a lot of years, and it never gets any easier to watch somebody go down with an injury.

Angus: To hell with that, those guys are douchebag fake-ass Juggahoes, they deserve everything they get.

DDK: One day I'm seriously going to pull rank and have you fired.

Angus: Good luck, I used to be the boss's lackey, you were his boss, he likes me more.

DDK: Oh for the love of God...

-----

[Outside the arena a long strip of parking lot has been taped off by the security and WWA brass. This is where Blue Collar is hosting the dance party. It was advertised heavily in the local papers and on the radio and there seems to be a decent amount of people that are “Sweatin’ to the Newbies” as Blue has referred to it. As a matter of fact right now Rhianna’s right “Disturbia” is playing.]

[Boom, boom, badda.]

[Boom, boom badda.]

[Boom, boom badda.]

[On the dance floor couples are dancing with each other like they are Patrick Swayze and that girl with the huge nose that was in Ferris Beuler. Moms and Dads are cutting a rug like this is the roaring 20s all over again. And lastly some wall flowers are just watching the fun. They all want to get a piece of this action.]

[Suddenly a man in a suit walks up to the stage.]

Suit: "If everyone could please be quiet for just a second I have an announcement to make. Due to his match earlier in the evening it is my duty to inform you that Blue Collar PA will not be able to host this dance party."

[The crowd groans, a small child beings to cry.]

[Wait for it...]

[...still waiting...]

[...fake finish style...]

[...BLUE COLLAR PA runs out of the back.]

Blue Collar PA: "April Fools!"

[The music kicks back on and everyone starts dancing. Moms, Dads, sisters, brothers, friends, lovers, gays, lesbians, you name it they are all cutting a rug. Blue Collar has ended hatred, racism, and war just for the remainder of this Rhianna song.]

-----

Angus: That's it, I'm having him deported.

DDK: DEPORTED? He's from Pittsburgh!

Angus: HE'S FROM PLUTO!

DDK: The fans love him!

Angus: Everyone else hates him.

DDK: You're just jealous.

Angus: You're just gay. And speaking of gay...

-----

[Darkness fills the screen, adjusting slowly to reveal a man, cloaked in shadows, sitting outside on the loading dock behind the arena. A pinprick of light appears, the flickering unsteady flame of a lighter, held in a hand that is trembling slightly. The flame touches to the tip of a cigarette, and the intake of breath illuminates the features of the man holding the lighter, painting them in an orange, demonic glow. Brad Jackson- and he doesn't look happy.]

Jackson: "Hello, friends."

[Another intake of breath, the ember glows and lights the features, revealing the twitch in his jaw as he grinds his back teeth together. A single light flickers on above him, drawing his attention for a moment. Sitting with his back to the wall, he is revealed fully, dressed already in his ring gear. His eyes are charged with a restless energy, like the calm before a storm. Lightning seems to crackle in that knowing gaze as he looks in the camera, the smile stretching wider, growing more predatory. He looks pumped, ready, determined.]

Jackson: "Chaos. In the beginning the world was without form, without control."

[Bitter laughter accompanies the smoke, the cigarette bobbing between lips that curve into a derisive smile.]

Jackson: "I don't claim to be above that screaming mess. I never did. I don't claim to be the best damn thing since sliced bread. But I am one thing tonight."

[The camera pans out, revealing a faded sign that reads EMPLOYEE ENTRANCE- AIR CANADA CENTER. A serene smile curves his lips as he takes a long drag off the cigarette, feeling the tension leave him as he turns away from the light.]

Jackson: "You're looking for a revelation in the wrong place. I don't deal in that sort of game. See, here's the thing. I don't take kindly to being insulted. I will NOT stand for that. Go ahead and roll your eyes, chalk that up to more of my endless bullshit. I know, I'm the Antichrist of wrestling, and everywhere I go doom follows. I ruin things. AWF's implosion was probably my fault- blame the guy who was wearing the Justice title at the time. I steal spotlights. I'm a glory hog, and a title grubbing bastard. That's all I want. I hear this shit all the time, and it's tedious. Things need to change. Simple things, like starting with some good ol' fashioned, ego-breaking, ass kicking douchebaggery. Courtesy of yours truly, of course. Dark times, friends… dark times. A new era began when The Machine signed on with HRW. An awakening, if you will. Rebirth."

[He hops down from his perch. Somewhere in the distance the crowd roars, music thumping through the concrete wall he's leaning against.]

Jackson: "Tell me I don't stack up to the legends. Tell me I'm not as good as Ryan Blasier… Python… Cobra. Tell me that beating the shit out of some loudmouthed jerk of a former champion makes me fall from grace. Newsflash, Domingo. I never was a good guy. They were never going to cheer for me."

[He shrugs, laughing softly to himself before raising his right hand, extending his middle finger in an unmistakable salute.]

Jackson: "I'm sure you can figure out where I was going with that. I am not your fall guy, Domingo. I'm not your stepping stone back into the limelight that cast you out. This is my place. This is where I damn well belong. Not because I sucked cock to get there, not because of my celebrated eleven years in this business. Not because of my history with half of the current roster. Because that's where I busted my ass to get. Tenacity. Work ethic. You say I don't deserve this? That I'm some usurper who doesn't know his place? Yeah. Go ahead, it's your opinion, and you're entitled to think whatever in the hell you want. I can't change that, just like I can't force you to think for yourself. You can't weed out stupid, unfortunately."

[Jackson smiles, more a sarcastic leer than anything else as he leans in for the kill, driving the point home with that steady, intense glare. He shakes his head, his voice trembling with unchecked emotion, the words laced with venom.]

Jackson: "I'm itching for a fight tonight. Heh, Eduardo Domingo thinks I'm a piece of shit… but you know what? I kinda like him. We're cut from the same cloth… the same breed of animal. Both survivors. Both competitive… both… CHAMPIONS. There's just one difference, really."

[He snickers; rising to his full height and flicking the cigarette away into the gloom before pulling open the door.]

Jackson: "I'm better."

[The smirk widens, shoulders rolling as he licks his lips.]

Jackson: "I want this more. I need this more."

[He laughs mockingly, slipping inside the arena as the crowd inside erupts with muffled cheers.]

Jackson: "Either I walk out of this place tonight still World Champion, or you just put me out of my goddamn misery by stripping me of this undeserved ego. Either way… I win."

[The door slams behind him, leaving behind nothing but the faint sound of music, and the quiet night outside the Air Canada Center.]

-----

Angus: Is it over yet?

DDK: You know it is.

Angus: No I don't, I've got my iPod ear buds in, Mastadon ya know.

DDK: You can hear me just fine.

Angus: No I can't, I'm just guessing what you're saying.

DDK: You're a mess.

Angus: You're a fag.

-----

[Eduardo Domingo paces back and forth in his locker room. The young man looks a little nervous but that's to be expected. He's been waiting for this opportunity for a long time and now it's finally here. Freddy Phoenix sits quietly in a folding chair, his hands resting on top of a crutch as he balances it in front of him. There's a sudden knock at the door.]

"Mister Domingo, it's time!"

[Eduardo glances at his mentor.]

Eduardo: "You have any last second words of advice for me?"

[Freddy Phoenix just shakes his head in response. Eduardo's eyes widen slightly.]

Eduardo: "Are you sure you're okay? You've always got some wisdom or words of encouragement."

[There's no response as the two men sit in silence for a moment. The silence is finally broken when Freddy looks up at his protégé.]

Freddy: "You're ready kid."

Eduardo: "Now I know you're not alright."

[Freddy chuckles.]

Freddy: "You've been ready for a long time Eduardo, I just haven't been willing to see it."

[He takes a deep breath.]

Freddy: "Truth is... I didn't want to see it."

[Eduardo looks a little confused.]

Eduardo: "What are you trying to say?"

Freddy: "This whole thing with Jackson has opened my eyes. I'm not going to lie to you, when you've had the spotlight for so many years it's hard to let go. Honestly, I never really did. I was living vicariously through you, leeching off your success so I could feel like I still mattered."

Eduardo: "That's not true..."

[Freddy holds up his hand, cutting Eduardo off mid sentence.]

Freddy: "Let me finish, kid. I've been around this sport for a long time so believe me when I tell you that you're one of the greatest I've ever seen. And I'm damn proud that I helped you get to that point. The thing is, I've become nothing but a liability to you now kid. You've got to know when to walk away."

[Eduardo Domingo is at a loss for words. Freddy slowly pushes himself up from his chair, wobbling a little before steadying himself on his crutch.]

Freddy: "Now you're going to go out there and show everyone what I've known all along... that you're the best wrestler in the world today."

[The young man just looks at his mentor as he finally knows what to say.]

Eduardo: "Thank you, Freddy, thanks for everything."

[Freddy Phoenix grins.]

Freddy: "You can thank me by winning that world title."

[Eduardo gives him a nod.]

Eduardo: "I'd hug you but we already work in a sport where guys roll around with each other in tights... people would talk."

[An emotional moment is lightened up somewhat with that little bit of humor.]

Eduardo: "What the hell, let them talk."

[With those words the two men embrace.]

Freddy: "Win or lose kid, I'll be the first one through that curtain when the final bell rings."

[They pull apart and Eduardo makes his way out the door.]

-----

Angus: FAGS! The lot of them!

DDK: What are you going on about now?

Angus: They almost hugged! I SEENT IT!

DDK: You "seent" it?

Angus: What are you, a recorder? Yes, I seent it.

DDK: Whatever, it's about time we get to the ring for the World Title match...

-----

[The fans are ready to blow the roof off the ACC, standing as one in anticipation of the main event of the evening, the World Heavyweight Title match.]

[The champion, Brad Jackson; cold and calculated, ice in his veins. He wants to prove to the world that his win over Cobra wasn't a fluke, and that the World title is in worthy hands.]

[The challenger, Eduardo Domingo; the most dominant Double Crown champion in World Wrestling Alliance history. The man intent on bringing stability to a title that has seen new ownership multiple times since Python ended Ryan Blasier's nine-month long reign, this past November.]

[But first, the new owner of the World Wrestling Alliance, Matt Saunders. Dressed in a dark gray suit, with a shiny navy blue tie, Saunders is dressed the way a true business man would. Saunders walks down the aisle to a chorus of cheering, a determined stride in his step.]

[He acknowledges the fans' reception, but maintains his business-like demeanor. He's here for one thing, and one thing only: To see that Victor Mandrake lives up to his end of the bargain.]

[Walking up the steel ring steps, he climbs through the ropes, makes his way over to the ring announcer to fetch the microphone, then positions himself in the center of the ring. He waits while the crowd noise lowers in volume, until he can hear himself speak, then begins.]

Saunders: "I'm going to keep this short and sweet, because I know all of you are here to see Brad Jackson ..."

[A chorus of "Boooooooo!"]

Saunders: "And Eduardo Domingo ..."

[An eruption of "RRaaaaaaahhhh!"]

Saunders: "Battle it out for the World Heavyweight Championship, and not to hear me flap my gums. So without further delay ..."

[He turns to face the entrance curtain.]

Saunders: "Victor Mandrake, come on out here and give me what's rightfully mine."

[As "Mr. Self-Destruct" by Nine Inch Nails blasts through the speakers, the former three-time World Champion, and previous majority shareholder of the World Wrestling Alliance, Victor Mandrake, emerges from behind the curtain.]

[The fans rain a plague of jeers down on him, which only causes the grin on his face to widen. Dressed in a black suit with a black shirt and a red tie, and sporting a black leather briefcase, Mandrake scans the crowd, a look of disdain written over icy blue eyes partially obscured by long black hair, until his gaze settles on Saunders standing in the ring.]

[With purpose in his stride, he makes his way to the ring, a chorus of booing in his wake. Unlike Saunders, Mandrake simply lifts one large leg up, and plants a massive foot onto the ring apron, lifting himself up. He then climbs through the ring ropes, and takes up position a couple of meters away from Saunders.]

[Saunders never takes his eyes off of Mandrake, as he gestures with his arms to quiet the capacity crowd down. He then lifts the microphone to his lips.]

Saunders: "Glad you could make it, Victor. For a while there, I thought maybe you'd pull a no-show."

[Mandrake grins down at the smaller man, amused. He produces his own microphone from his pocket.]

Mandrake: "Oh, I can assure you, Mr. Saunders, I've been looking forward to this moment for quite a while now."

[That causes Saunders' eyebrow to arch.]

Saunders: "That so? Then, I guess we finally agree on something. So ... I take it you brought what I'd requested?"

[He gestures to the briefcase clutched in Mandrake's massive paws. Mandrake nods.]

Mandrake: "If nothing else Matthew, I'm a man of my word. If you'll be so kind."

[Gesturing for Saunders to hold the briefcase, the other man complies, holding both arms out to cradle the briefcase on them. Mandrake then pops the lock on it with an audible 'click', then opens the briefcase and retrieves the documents held within. He holds them up for the crowd to see.]

Mandrake: "Here, in my hands, is the contract that stipulates the owner of said document has full authority over the World title division ... meaning he has absolute control over the World title, and the booking of any of its contenders."

[The fans roar in approval, as Saunders prepares to take ownership of the final documentation that Mandrake had yet to give him upon his taking over the Alliance.]

Mandrake: "Like I promised you, Matthew, I'm here to hand it over to the new World title division head ..."

[Saunders' eyes go wide as “Disposable Heroes” by Metallica hits the arena PA system, and the already electric crowd explodes, as instantly, they recognize the theme music of the most decorated superstar to ever set foot in a World Wrestling Alliance ring ...]

[Four-time World Champion, two-time Summer Games champion, and Hall of Famer...]

[Eric Dane.]

[Dressed in a silver suit over black shirt and tie, “The Only Star” strides out of the opening at the top of the stage and walks with a purpose ringward. There is an extra swagger to his step, adding to the mile-wide grin on his face as he ignores the ringside fans. Most of them jeer, but don‘t let it be said that there aren‘t a fair smattering of cheers in there, too.]

[Dane steps around to the steps and makes his way up onto the apron. He wipes Alligator shoes on the apron and steps through the ropes. Standing in the ring with Mandrake and Saunders, Dane sports a half-grin towards Victor, which Mandrake acknowledges with a nod and a grin of his own.]

[Saunders scowls, his jaw muscles twitching, suddenly not too happy with how things are going down. Here he was, expecting this to be a nice little transfer of paperwork, and instead, he's standing face to face with two of the most diabolical men the wrestling business has ever seen.]

Mandrake: "What's the matter, Matthew? You look like you've seen a ghost."

[Mandrake laughs at the comment, as Dane's smile grows wider, eyes never leaving Saunders. As Saunders sputters, unable to find his voice to respond to these turn of events, Mandrake turns to Dane.]

Mandrake: "Eric, I feel as though I need to apologize to you..."

[Dane turns from Saunders, a look of curious apprehension scrawled across his face. Victor holds up one of the pieces of paper clutched in his hands.]

Mandrake: "...although, in retrospect, you of all people should've seen this coming."

[Eric's apprehensive look turns into a death glare as he sees the double-cross coming. There is murder in his eyes as the gears start to turn.]

Mandrake: "It's my regret - or pleasure, as it were - to inform you that this contract for the control of the World Title Division does not have your name on it. In fact, the documents that you signed were of a much more... personal matter."

[Dane starts to fume, using every ounce of self-control he's got from throttling Mandrake. This will not hold for long before his legendary temper blows.]

Mandrake: "More on that in just a while. Now, Mr. Saunders..."

[The former owner of the World Wrestling Alliance turns to Saunders, who looks a little bit more at ease, and smirks, directing the paperwork towards him.]

Mandrake: "The paperwork I'd promised you. I'm officially handing over all control over the World title division to ..."

[As Saunders reaches for the documents, the lights go out, as though the arena had suddenly been victim to a massive power outage, blanketing everyone in a sea of darkness. The crowd stirs restlessly, as the seconds tick by without power being restored.]

[In the darkness, Eric Dane roars at Mandrake.]

Dane: “We had a deal! A DE-"

[His voice is violently and abruptly cut short. The first thing that the power is restored to is the Jumbo-tron. All eyes turn toward it, as four words play across the screen in bright red letters.]

[BY ...]

[ANY ...]

[MEANS ...]

[NECESSARY.]

[Suddenly, the arena is bathed in light once more.]

[Standing in the ring, clutching a silver-gleaming titanium knee brace in both hands, is the former two-time World champion, Ryan Blasier. He's dressed in a pair of black dress slacks, white Oxford shirt, and sporting a victorious grin.]

[And laying prone on the mat in front of him, out cold, is Dane.]

[Saunders looks on in shock and horror, as Mandrake shifts the direction of the documents he'd been carrying to Blasier, who receives the paperwork, a grin plastered on his face. He finally gets his wits about him, and makes his way to check on Dane, dropping the briefcase on the mat and crouching down beside the fallen legend.]

[Mandrake watches on with amusement, gesturing to the briefcase lying on the mat.]

Mandrake: "As I said, Saunders, I'm a man of my word. You've got full ownership of the World Wrestling Alliance, but Ryan Blasier now has full ownership ..."

[He gestures at Dane's prostrate form.]

Mandrake: "Of him."

[The fans boo loudly, yelling abuse at the two men left standing in the ring. A few brave fans, letting their anger override their desire to stay and watch the main event, launch half-full beer cups into the ring, splattering upon impact, sending their contents flying.]

[Mandrake crouches over and addresses Dane, even if he can't hear him at the moment. He holds the contract Dane signed over him.]

Mandrake: "You see Eric, this Lifetime Legends contract that you signed shortly before I took control of the Alliance has been activated, and makes you completely subservient to the will of the Divisional Head of the World Title ... in this case, Ryan Blasier. He will book you as he pleases, when he pleases, in whatever match he deems suitable. He has complete and utter control over your professional life."

[He pauses only for a second.]

Mandrake: “And one more thing ... your downside guarantee has been dropped to the Alliance minimum, and your licensing agreement has been, at best, dropped. Your face belongs to this contract, Eric, and you won’t see a cent for it.”

[Victor's smile grows wider.]

Mandrake: "Your personal life, however, belongs to me. You see these clauses in this paragraph here Eric? That's you signing away all of your personal assets to me. I've liquidated every personal belonging you have and drained every single cent to your name and placed it neatly into my bank account. This contract here assures that this was done in a very real, and legally binding sense."

[Victor stands to his feet.]

Mandrake: "Think of it as a receipt for all the pain and suffering that you've caused Morrigan by your violent indiscretions."

[He turns to Blasier, who has remained quiet up until this point.]

Mandrake: "Got anything you want to say to your new ... employee?"

[Blasier grins, as he takes the microphone from Mandrake. Standing over Dane, mic in one hand, titanium knee brace clutched in the other, he addresses him.]

Blasier: "Guess what, Eric? Your worst nightmares have become a reality!"

[He laughs like only someone who's clinically insane would at that statement.]

Blasier: "Kind of ironic, isn't it? The man who replaced you as the flagship of the World Wrestling Alliance, the man you wish you could still compete with, is now the man who controls your very existence."

[Blasier crouches down on one knee, to get closer to Dane, as Saunders gestures for both medical help and security.]

Blasier: "This is my World title, and my World Wrestling Alliance, Eric. The sooner you understand this fact, the better it'll be for you. So, since you refuse to fade away into the sunset with the rest of the geriatrics, I'm going to enjoy making your life a living hell."

[With that, he tosses down the microphone and gets to his feet. "My Hero" by the Foo Fighters hits the arena speakers, as Mandrake and Blasier make their way from the ring. The fans serenade them all the way up the aisle with verbal abuse as well as tossed debris, neither enough to wipe the constant grins from their faces.]

[Meanwhile in the ring, Matt Saunders looks at Eric Dane, who is attempting to gather his wits. The crowd wonders if Saunders were going to take advantage of the one man who felt it necessary to “call him out” in his home promotion of International Influence. The very man who has made disparaging remarks in regards to his wrestling career, and current professional situation.]

[Instead, Saunders reaches down, and helps Eric Dane to his feet.]

[Dane is still coming to – but knows enough now to realize that the last person he thought would be assisting him would be Matt Saunders.]

[Saunders speaks over the top rope to the time keeper, and asks to send the “signal” to the back, requesting further assistance for the EMT’s backstage.]

[It appears as though the man that Matt Saunders thought he would have “beef” with, has turned out to be the man he might stand beside in this fight against evil.]

-----

Angus: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

DDK: Wow!

Angus: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

DDK: Eric Dane is OUT of the equation! Matt Saunders is the Owner of the Alliance, and RYAN BLASIER is the head of the World Title Division!? This is INSANE!

Angus: *cries*

DDK: Get it together man, we've got a Main Event to call!

-----

WWA World Heavyweight Championship Title Defense
"The Dark Horse" Brad Jackson (c) vs Eduardo Domingo

Keebler: "This match looks set to be a smashfest classic. While both of these guys are new to the World Title scene, Domingo's pedigree and credentials are unparalleled, after his epic run as Double Crown champion. Jackson, on the other hand, has all the tools to be a World Champion for the ages, with his long career full of experience and his skills..."

Angus: "Suck them off a little more, fag. You know that Jackson's a paper tiger and doesn't bring anything new with him."

Keebler: "That's unfair! If he's been in the business this long, and done as much as I know he has, he has to be doing SOMETHING right!"

Angus: "And Domingo's a boring faggot who hasn't proven anything since he jobbed. This is going to be lame and I wouldn't blame anyone for turning the TV off right now."

Keebler: "That's a hell of a way to set up this main event, Angus."

Angus: "Now they have a low bar to surpass, right? I know what I'm doing, you cockslut."

[The announcer stepped to the center of the ring.]

"THE FOLLOWING IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL, WITH A THIRTY MINUTE TIME LIMIT..."

"AND IS YOUR MAIN EVENT... FOR THE EVENING!"

[A pause.]

"THIS MATCH WILL BE FOR THE WORLD WRESTLING ALLIANCE WOOOOOOOOORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!"

[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 the loudest crowd reaction of his young career.]

Ring Announcer: "Now making his way to the ring, representing International Influence! He hails from Quemado, Texas and weighs in at 192 lbs. Tonight he is challenging for the Heavyweight Championship of the World… EDUAAAARDOOOOO DOOOMINGGGOOOOOOO!!!!"

# Too much is not enough #
# Nobody said this stuff makes any sense #
# We're hooked again #

Keebler: "Domingo's looking strong, prepared, and ready."

Angus: "Like a lamb to the slaughter."

# Point of no return #
# See how the buildings burn #
# Light up the night #
# Such pretty sight #

[Eduardo doesn't take any time to play to the crowd as he begins his march down the aisle. His eyes stay fixed on the ring, the young man way more focused than usual.]

# 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.]

# You don't feel the pain #

Keebler: "Domingo's got the chance of a lifetime, tonight. If he can manage to upset the powerhouse Jackson, he may just be holding onto the World title for a year!"

# Sail through an empty night #
# It's only you and I who understand #
# There is no plan #

[Eduardo heads to the center of the ring before turning back to face the entrance. He crouches somewhat, resting his hands on his knees. His eyes remain fixed on the entrance, the challenger anxiously awaiting his opponent.]

# Get closer to the thrill #
# Only time will kill #
# What's in your eyes #
# Is so alive #

Angus: "I can see fear in his eye. Trust me. I'm picking this match to end by submission in less than fifteen minutes."

# 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 #

[The music slowly died out, the house lights dropping. With the arena shrouded in the dark, the fans, some of whom liked the WWA World Champ, some of whom hated him, leaned forward in their seats...]

[A steady bass throb begins, growing in volume, sounding much like a heartbeat. A single gunshot shatters the silence, followed by mocking laughter and Jackson's voice hurling insults before the music skips, and then the sounds of 'Lies' by Evanescence filters through the speakers.]

Angus: "Holy Christ, kill me right the fuck now."

Keebler: "Because of the match?"

Angus: "This has to be the first World Title match where I want both guys to lose, just so I don't have to listen to their ring music again. What kind of fag shit is this? I thought Jackson was supposed to be some hardcore badass and his entrance music is this whiny bitch?"

"COMING SECOND TO THE RING... HE IS "THE DARK HORSE"..."

Angus: And besides, isn't Mike Sloan "The Dark Horse?"

DDK: Well, yes...

"AND THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!"

[The World Champion appeared, stepping out from the back. Illuminated in the shadows, are the unmistakable silhouettes of a man and a woman... The woman threw her arms upward, as a rain of golden sparks showered over the couple. Jackson reached over, grabbing her hand and pulling her close. He pulled her against him in an almost possessive embrace, before releasing her, so they can head to the ring.]

Keebler: "Jackson looks focused... His jaw's set, and he looks like his head is in the game."

Angus: "He's got a decent game face. I'll give him that."

[Jackson ignored the fans, not touching them or showing them any courtesy. He simply walked right by, and headed directly for the ring. He went straight up the ring steps, head bowed, that title belt glittering around his waist, and paused on the apron.]

Angus: "Well, I'll say one great thing about him. That chickie-poo who is managing him? I'd totally show her my love sausage."

Keebler: "Don't let him hear you say that."

Angus: "I've got Eric Dane and all of Team Danger on speed dial. If he wants to be the first World Champ humiliated in a Faygo shower in a few years, I'll dance."

"FROM LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA... BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKSOOOOOOOOOOOOON!"

[Jackson pulled the silver pendant from around his neck, over his head, and handed it to Ryann, his valet, who took it, slipping it into a pocket. Ryann blew Jackson a kiss, who broke his stern, granite-like look to smile, and catch the kiss, slipping it into his pocket for later.]

[Unfortunately for Jackson, the challenger was already in the ring, and his distracting valet kept Jackson's eyes off of Domingo... ED came charging in, and leapt, dropkicking Jackson in the back of the head! The World Champ fell from the apron, slamming chest-first into the guardrail, and crumpling to the ground!]

Keebler: "From what happened at II's Revenge, this match has become personal, and Domingo's ready for a fight!"

Angus: "Okay, that was a smart move. Doesn't mean the kid'll follow it up, but..."

[Domingo came back to his feet, and backpedaled to the center of the ring, waiting. Jackson slowly rose, an arm across his chest... He was in some pretty massive pain from falling directly on his ribs. As he rose, Domingo came running in, and leapt straight to the top rope! Balancing precariously up there for a moment, Jackson looked up...]

[And Domingo flew off, spinning like a top in midair, coming down side-first on Jackson's head and shoulders! Jax and Domingo hit the ground, Ryann giving a cry of fear for her man as she backed away, not wanting to get between the two. As Domingo hammered forearms into Jackson's head, the World Champ, title belt still around his waist, looked like he lost it. Face contorted in a mask of rage and hate, and the smaller man found himself on his back, piston-like right hands slamming into Domingo's face and jaw!]

Angus: "After that amazing corkscrew splash, the Classic with a Twist, Domingo's suddenly finding himself on the receiving end!"

Angus: "See? He's too flippy and small."

[Jackson would rise, grabbing a fistful of Domingo's hair, dragging the kid to his feet. As Domingo came up, Jackson plowed a big fist into Eduardo's jaw, sending him staggering away. Jackson was quick to follow, hammering forearms into ED's back over and over, until Domingo slumped against the apron. Jackson rolled ED inside...]

[And the match could finally truly begin. Jackson unbuckled the World Title belt, handing it to the ref, before he began to stomp away on ED's shoulders. Domingo came to hands and knees, Jackson making him pay for even moving with those brutal boots.]

[Domingo came up, and put all his body weight behind a shove, sending Jackson stumbling back. Jackson's fists clenched, and he growled, sneering at the kid as he came back in. However, now that Domingo was fully to his feet, and aware of what was going on, he could avoid Jackson. The World Champ came in for a grab, and Domingo ducked it.]

Keebler: "Domingo's finally getting to his real game plan... Use his superior speed to outmatch Jackson's strength!"

Angus: "All Jackson has to do is drop Domingo on his head once, though, and we get treated to some totally awesome ring music!"

Keebler: "You changed your mind?"

Angus: "Sarcasm, fag."

[Jackson waded in, swinging with a big right hand, and Domingo ducked it, firing off a kick to Jackson's ribs... And Jackson actually stepped back, wincing! Domingo fired a stomping kick to Jackson's ribs, and another... And as he tried for a third, Jackson grabbed Domingo's foot! Domingo was pulled in close, and Jackson hooked the waist...]

Keebler: "Belly to belly!"

[As Domingo crashed to the mat, Jackson, operating on full diesel power, came back to his feet, eyes blazing. He grabbed Domingo back up, and yanked him straight up to his feet like he was nothing! Jackson stepped behind Domingo, waistlocking him, and tried for a German... But Domingo hooked his leg in Jackson's!]

Angus: "Okay, Jackson's got some pretty nice elbow smashes.

[Jackson pounded away on the back of Domingo's head with said elbows, Domingo quickly becoming dazed enough to grab once more... And Jackson snagged the waist, and Domingo went crashing overhead with a massive German suplex!]

Keebler: "GERMAN SUPLEX! What impact!"

[Jackson held onto the waistlock, bridging his shoulders up. The ref dove in to count the pin...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Domingo kicked out at two! Rolling to his stomach, he began to rise to his feet... Until Jackson came charging in, hammering a fist into the back of Domingo's head! Domingo stumbled, landing on his forearms, and Jackson hammered a boot into Eduardo's ribs. ED fell to his side, only for Jackson to grab the neck and hoist ED back to his feet...]

[Hooking ED in a front facelock, Jackson twisted the kid around, before dropping with a vicious neckbreaker! As ED clutched the back of his neck, Jackson rolled on top of the kid, trying for a lateral pin. Such was his confidence, that Jackson didn't bother hooking the leg...]

"One!"

"Tw-"

[And ED kicked out at two! The World Champ fell back onto his knees, wiping a thumb at his nose, visibly irritated. Jackson rose back to his feet, and beckoned Domingo to get his ass up.]

Angus: "Looks like Jacky's getting pissed off..."

Keebler: "I think he's BEEN pissed off."

[As Domingo rose to his feet, Jackson went to grab at Domingo... But ED took off running, hitting the ring ropes! He came back, leaping into the air and bringing a foot up... Spinning heel kick, directly to the jaw! Jackson staggered back, but quickly turned his eyes back to Domingo's face... Domingo took a forearm to the jaw, already turning to hit the ropes again...]

[And Domingo came back, hitting another spinning heel kick to the face! Jackson stumbled back, and Domingo went for the ropes again, only to come back and yakuza kick Jackson directly in the face! Jackson dropped, and Domingo landed on both feet, having finally hurt Jackson!]

Angus: "The squirt's really gonna take you down, Jackson? REALLY?"

Keebler: "There's no shame in falling to kicks that looked that good and sounded that painful!"

[Domingo pulled Jackson up, hammering him with right hands, over and over again, only for Jackson to start looking madder and madder! Domingo's eyes widened, and he took a step back... Only to charge forward, and leap onto Jackson's shoulders, hooking the head for a hurricanrana!]

Keebler: "Jackson's got Domingo! This is either got to end in a powerbomb or a 'rana, and I think I know which one Jackson wants..."

[Domingo's arms pinwheeled, as Jackson grabbed Domingo's waist, stepped forward and regaining his balance. However, Domingo began to hammer Jackson with rights and lefts, before turning the punches into hammering blows, just bringing his fists down on the World Champion's face and forehead, over and over and over! Jackson staggered, and Eduardo leaned back, as they moved near the ropes...]

Keebler: "HURRICANRANA OVER THE TOP ROPE!"

Angus: "Sometimes the little guy is just better than the powerhouse."

Keebler: "So, tap by the fifteen minute mark?"

Angus: "Yup."

[Jackson and Domingo both had ended up on the floor, battered and beaten from the tumble outside. However, as the guy who took the least of the fall, Domingo was the first to his feet! With Jackson on hands and knees, Domingo leapt forward and dropkicked the big man, directly in the face! Jackson fell onto his haunches, and Domingo stepped back, against the ring...]

Keebler: "DOUBLE KNEE TO THE FACE!"

[Domingo had come in charging, and cracked Jackson in the mush with both knees! With the World Champ down, Domingo had to press the advantage... And press he did! Jackson was pulled up, onto the ring apron...]

Angus: "Oh god, this kid is starting to win points with me."

Keebler: "He's got Jackson set up for a DDT on the apron... Can he pull it off?"

[Domingo hammered knees into Jackson's stomach and chest, over and over again, as Jackson tried to hold tight to those ring ropes... But it was far, far easier for Domingo. All he really had to do... Was step off the apron! Jackson's face smashed into the steel, as Domingo landed on his feet!]

[Domingo slid into the ring, and then back out, making sure the ref wouldn't count them out... Jackson slowly fell off the apron, onto the floor. Domingo hopped up, onto the apron, and as Jackson slowly came to hands and knees, Domingo leapt off the apron, coming down with an elbowdrop across the back of Jackson's neck!]

Keebler: "NESTEA PLUNGE! Domingo just took Jackson's head off!"

Angus: "I might have to change my prediction..."

[Domingo came to his feet, as Jackson crawled upwards with a hand on the guardrail... The World Champ was on the ropes! Domingo grabbed at Jackson's hair, pulling him upward... And as he did, Jackson looked up for a moment... Just long enough for Jackson to take a kick to the face!]

Keebler: "There's that anger again..."

[Jackson not only didn't care that he had been kicked in the face... He was gonna make Domingo pay for it! Jackson surged to his feet, grabbing Domingo by the waist, and slamming him backfirst into the ring apron! Jackson tightened his bear hug, and turned, charging down the ringside area, to hammer Domingo's back into the steel ringpost! Domingo slumped in Jackson's grasp, as Jackson turned, charging and slamming Domingo's back into the steel barricade! Jackson finally let Domingo drop, and grabbed a handful of his hair, sending him under the bottom rope, back into the ring.]

Angus: "Ah, Jackson's trying to get brownie points with me!"

[It appeared that Jax was trying to unlace the top turnbuckle pad, casting glances at Domingo, behind him, still on the mat. The ref tried to stop him... But a DQ in the main event? Not likely... Jackson turned, as Domingo slowly crawled toward the ring ropes, and Jackson grinned. He charged at Domingo...]

[Leapt into the air, and came down with both feet on Domingo's back, a brutal double stomp! Domingo was flattened, and Jackson bent, grabbing Domingo by the hair and pulling him up. A scoop, and Domingo was held atop Jackson's shoulder... Jackson turned, and charged into the corner, slamming Domingo back-first into that exposed nut!]

Angus: "Jackson's going for the Oklahoma Stampede! I love this shit!"

[Jackson turned, and charged across the ring, only to splatter Domingo into that turnbuckle as well! Holding the challenger tight, Jackson turned and headed back to the center of the ring, where he finally slammed Domingo down, onto the big World Wrestling Alliance logo in the center of the ring!]

Keebler: "Jackson, showing his experience, trying for a pin immediately after that..."

[Jackson hooked the leg this time. He wanted that win, right here...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"TH-"

"NO! ONLY TWO!"

[Jackson growled, grinding his teeth, as he sat back, on his knees. Hand stroked through his short hair, obviously pissed off at how the match was going. So, he rose to his feet, and dragged a thumb across his throat.]

Angus: "Oh, he must be getting SERIOUS, now."

Keebler: "With the wealth of experience Jackson has, who knows what he's going to go for?"

[With Domingo down, back in agony, Jackson crossed Domingo's legs, and stepped inside. With Domingo's own legs hooked by Jackson's, held in place, Domingo couldn't escape! Jackson looked around for a moment, before arching back to hook the head...]

[But Domingo had bent double at the waist! Jackson scrabbled at nothing, and Domingo turned Jackson over, pulling his legs free of the hold. Jackson rolled over, coming to his feet... And as he turned to face Domingo, the smaller wrestler lashed out, cracking Jackson right on the tip of the chin with a superkick!]

Keebler: "What a picture-perfect kick! If you're gonna change your prediction, Angus, I'd do it soon! We're past the 12 minute mark!"

Angus: "I'm thinking."

[Jackson, a ring veteran of many years, simply rolled to his side until he found himself falling off the apron. Domingo watched him go... And crouched, hands going to his knees. As Jackson came to his feet at ringside, Domingo came charging past Jackson, still in the ring... He leapt onto the top rope, and springboarded off, turning in midair...]

Keebler: "SPRINGBOARD PLANCHA!"

[Jackson and Domingo BOTH crashed to the ground, Domingo landing on top of the World Champ! Domingo rolled off, after a moment, trying to catch his breath. It was only a few moments, though, before both men started coming back up... As they did, they started trading blows! Jackson with a right, Domingo with a forearm, Jackson with a left, Domingo with a kick...]

[Jackson grabbed Domingo by the back of the head and turned, bringing Domingo's head down on the steel guardrail! Turning, Jackson grabbed Domingo's shirt and tossed him back into the ring. Hands went to his hips, as Jackson tried to catch his breath...]

Angus: "Don't waste time, you tool! I've got absolutely nothing riding on this but I still don't want to be wrong!"

[Jackson slid back into the ring, coming to his feet. Domingo was on his way up, but Jackson wasn't going to let the other get the edge... As Domingo came up, Jackson leapt at the kid, arm lashing out and cracking Domingo in the back of the head!]

Keebler: "I think that tapout isn't coming."

Angus: "God damn it, can this guy do anything right?"

[Jackson grabbed ED by the hair, and sent him towards the ringropes with a shove. The smaller man hit the turnbuckles, and Jackson came over, hammering a boot into Domingo's stomach. Domingo doubled over, and Jackson hammered a knee into the other's face, sending Domingo to a seated position.]

Keebler: "There's fifteen... And Jackson's got some bad intentions for Domingo!"

[Knees crashed into Domingo's face and throat, before Jackson reached down, clapping a hand around Domingo's throat... Other hand snaked into Domingo's mouth, index and middle fingers hooking down, thumb pinching the underside of the mouth with that mandible claw...]

[And Jackson had Domingo up, up, up! A moment's elevation... And Domingo came crashing down to the mat! That brutal move, "Choke On This", had dropped Eduardo Domingo like a bad habit!]

[Jackson climbed atop Domingo, hooking the leg, trying for a pinfall.]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Domingo kicked out just before the three! Jackson's eyes went wide, and he shook his head, curling his mouth into a furious grimace. Index jabbed at Domingo, and Jackson drew a line across his throat, before rising. Domingo was allowed to rise to hands and knees... And Jackson rushed up, foot snapping out, shin cracking into ED's temple!]

Angus: "WHAT A PUNT! Haha!"

Keebler: "That was positively concussion-inducing! If Domingo is even conscious after that, this has GOT to be over!"

[Jackson grinned, as Domingo flopped, bonelessly, to the mat. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, then extended his arms outward. It was over... Grabbing Domingo by the arm, Jackson roughly yanked the cruiserweight to his feet...]

Angus: "I think he's gonna win."

Keebler: "Most likely. I think he's gonna try for one of his finishers..."

[Jackson did indeed hook the arms behind Domingo, before twisting him around and down... Domingo was hooked for that facebuster, the Something Wicked... But Domingo slumped out of Jackson's grip, collapsing to the mat!]

Keebler: "Domingo's out on his feet. Grit or not, Domingo can't possibly continue."

[Jackson shook his head, and kicked Domingo in the shoulder, rolling him over. Domingo was out, hands moving ever so vaguely. Jackson just put a foot atop Domingo's chest, and slowly lifted a fist into the air. The ref dove in, to count the pinfall...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Somehow, someway, Domingo rolled to his side! Jackson doubled over, grabbing Domingo by the FACE, one hand clasped over Domingo's eyes and forehead, one finger hooked through Domingo's mouth, fishhooking him! Domingo was pulled to his feet, Jackson shouting in his face the entire way up!]

Angus: "Domingo just won't stay down! It's like he wants to get a career-ending injury!"

[Jackson hooked an arm around Domingo's shoulders, hooking the ankle... He pulled Domingo back, going for that Ego Trip... And Domingo spun around, leaping into the air! He grabbed Jackson by the ears, knees doubled up, and Domingo fell to his back, Jackson's face smashing into those knees!]

Keebler: "This kid has a lot of heart and grit in 'im!"

[The World Champion was staggered, and Domingo forced himself to his feet... Teeth gritted, he leapt forward, dropkicking Jackson's foot right out from under him. Jackson shot forward, his legs gone from underneath him, face cracking into the mat! A stomp to the head, a kick to the ribs... Domingo turned, and dashed to the ropes, before he came flying back, only to dropkick Jackson directly in the face!]

Angus: "Damn,nice flurry!"

Keebler: "Domingo won't say die!"

[With Jackson stunned, Domingo pulled him to his feet. A boot to the stomach and a snap DDT, before Domingo shot back to his feet, looking like he had a fire lit inside! He grabbed Jackson and dragged the World Champ to the ring corner, hooking the head as he climbed to sit on the top rope... As Jackson began to stir, ED hopped off the top and swept his legs forward, spinning Jackson around...]

Keebler: "Tornado DDT! Jackson's down! Jackson's down!"

Angus: "If this kid wants that belt, now's the chance!"

[Domingo came back up, all fired up, and hopped to the top rope. Jackson was down, foot slowly moving as he tried to clear those cobwebs from his head... Domingo straightened, and looked to the fans, before leaping off the top...]

[And came crashing down, with a double knee drop! Domingo hooked the leg, rolling Jackson up tight, trying for a pin!]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"TH-NO!"

[Jackson kicked out at the last chance! As Domingo rose back to his feet, stumbling back into the corner, he ran his fingers through his hair. This... wasn't optimal. And either was when Ryann reached up, grabbing Domingo's ankles and yanking! ED hit the mat face-first with a thud, and Jackson took the chance to roll out of the ring, to crumple on the protective mat at ringside, trying to force wind through that compressed diaphragm...]

Angus: "Uh-oh. Bitch looking to get a black eye."

Keebler: "I don't think that Domingo's the type... Over twenty minutes in, and these two are still going! Jackson doesn't look too happy about that..."

[Domingo pulled himself to his feet, sparing a moment's glance to Ryann... She looked afraid, but he didn't look like he was going to take the shot. No, instead, Domingo glanced to where Jackson was slowly rising to his feet, and charged at him! Leaping to the top rope, Domingo balanced for a moment, before leaping off, trying for that Classic with a Twist...]

Angus: "Went to the well once too often!"

Keebler: "Jackson caught 'im! This is going to hurt..."

[And Jackson charged, slamming Domingo back-first into the steel ringpost! Jackson let go, and Domingo dropped to his feet, leaning heavily on that ringpost... And Jackson began to throw shoulders into Domingo's stomach! Over and over he hammered, before Jackson rolled Domingo back into the ring...]

[Jackson dove back into the ring, as Domingo slowly rose... Jackson waistlocked the kid, and grabbed that ankle... Domingo was lifted up, and Jackson brought him back down with a kneebuster! Domingo fell away, stumbling for a moment, unable to put much weight on the leg...]

[And Jackson dove in with a chop block! Domingo crashed down, as Jackson came back to his feet, drenched with sweat, but looking like this was playing the exact tune he wanted... Grabbing Domingo by the hair, he brought the kid up, facing away from Jackson... And he hammered a stomp into the back of that knee! Another and another stomp, before Jackson shoved Domingo, and the kid went staggering away...]

[And as soon as Domingo turned, Jackson hammered a boot into his stomach, and stuffed the kid's head between his thighs. Bending, Jackson hooked the waist, and flipped Domingo up, trying for a powerbomb... And Domingo kept going! He flipped over Jackson's back, feet hooking the arms as Jackson was pulled backwards, into a sunset flip!]

Angus: "Both guys are trying their endgame!"

Keebler: "Jackson wants his power, Domingo's gonna try for whatever pinning combinations he can get... But neither guy wants to let go!"

[Jackson was rolled up, but slammed his knees together on Domingo's temples, before rolling away. As Domingo and Jackson both rose, Jackson went for a right hand, but Domingo ducked, letting Jackson overspin! Domingo hooked the waist, and lifted Jackson uuuuup... And dropped Jackson onto his back with a belly to back suplex!]

Keebler: "Domingo's got to be planning to pull out all the stops here!"

[Jackson was pulled up, and Domingo hooked on the cravate... Hands latched onto Jackson's head, and Domingo glanced up and back... As Domingo crouched, Jackson went to shove Domingo off... Domingo went with the momentum, and Jackson took a step forward as Domingo took off. Domingo hit the ropes, and came charging back, leaping, and cracking Jackson directly in the face with a boot!]

[Jackson staggered back, and Domingo hooked the head, before leaping up, flipping back... And Domingo came crashing down, Jackson held in the reverse DDT variant for Domingo's picture-perfect Buenas Noches!]

Angus: "That's Domingo's finisher!"

Keebler: "It is! The Buenas Noches!"

[Domingo hooked the leg, trying for the pin...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Jackson managed to throw a shoulder up at the last moment!]

"THERE ARE FIVE MINUTES REMAINING IN THIS MATCH!"

[Jackson rolled to his stomach, as Domingo came up, eyes wide. This was gonna end poorly, if he didn't do something quick! He went to the ring ropes, and climbed out, onto the apron... As Jackson slowly came to his feet, hand pressed to the back of his head...]

Angus: "Springboard..."

Keebler: "The Maverick County Line!"

[Domingo spring-boarded off the top, and came crashing down on Jackson, clotheslining the World Champ down! Jackson hit the mat with a thud, and Domingo went for the pin attempt... Jackson kicked out barely at one!]

[The young challenger fell to his haunches, grabbing a double fistful of his hair... He came to his feet, beckoning Jackson up... As the World Champ did, Domingo hooked the head in that cravat once more, wanting to try for that Buenos Noches... But as he went to crouch, Jackson slapped his arms apart! Domingo's eyes shot wide, as Jackson hooked one arm in the half nelson, one in the chickenwing...]

Keebler: "MEMORY LAPSE!"

[Domingo crashed to the mat, crumpling into a heap, and Jackson immediately dove on top, trying for a pin.]

Angus: "That... was a kinda cool move. Kinda."

[The ref dove in, as Jackson hooked the leg.]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Domingo kicked out at two, and Jackson was absolutely furious. He came up, grabbing Domingo by the hair once more and yanking him up... He hooked the leg, and scooped Domingo up, wanting that Michinoku Driver that he used...]

Angus: "That kid's got a lot of wiggle in him! Reminds me of a girl I met once in Texas..."

Keebler: "Domingo got free! No Therapy tonight, but it's looking like there will be a crucifix rollup!"

[Jackson came crashing down onto his shoulders, Domingo hooking both arms, trying for one last rollup... And Jackson managed to kick out before the two!]

Keebler: "Less than a minute to go! If you don't win it now, you're not gonna!"

[Domingo's eyes widened, as Jackson kicked out of the rollup. Domingo popped up, and dropkicked Jackson in the temple, before heading to the ring ropes. Domingo climbed onto the apron, and grabbed that top rope, leaning back. Jackson slowly came up to a seated position, Domingo beckoning him up...]

Angus: "Stop wasting time, retard! Do something! Anything!"

[As Jackson came to his feet, staggering, Domingo leapt to the top rope. Jackson straightened, facing away from Domingo... And Domingo leapt off the top rope, feet coming up, and he planted the both of them RIGHT into the back of Jackson's head!]

Keebler: "What a dropkick!"

[The two landed in a heap, Domingo on top of Jackson, and as Domingo began to try and roll Jackson over, the World Champ covered up, not willing to let Domingo try for a pin!]

"TEN!"

[Domingo tried for a half nelson, but to no avail.]

"NINE!"

[Domingo tried to hammer Jackson in the head, but Jackson was all covered up!]

"EIGHT!"

[Domingo began to grab at Jackson's legs...]

"SEVEN!"

[But Jackson wouldn't let Domingo get his hands beneath!]

"SIX!"

[Domingo grabbed at Jackson's ankle, trying ANYTHING he could!]

"FIVE!"

[As Domingo managed to get that ankle under his arm, Jackson brought his other foot up, planted it on Domingo's chest, and SHOVED, sending Domingo flying away.]

"FOUR!"

[Domingo skidded across the ring.]

"THREE!"

[He launched himself back at Jackson, trying one last time...]

"TWO!"

"ONE!"

[The bell was signalled for... And rang. "DING DING DING!" Boos rained down, as the announcer stood, watching the ref. A moment, and the announcer nodded.]

"AS A RESULT OF THE TIME LIMIT EXPIRING, THIS MATCH IS RULED..."

"A DRAW!"

[The fans booed their hearts out, Domingo fallen in the ring corner, face looking like he just had his dog die in his arms. Jackson, on the other hand, crawled out of the ring, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Ryann ran to the timekeeper and snatched that title belt away, running over to her man's side and handing him HIS title.]

[As Jackson slowly straightened, bringing that title belt above his head, the fans began to chant, as one.]

"BUUUUUUUULLSHIIIIIIIIT! BUUUUUULLSHIIIIIIIIT!"

[Jackson just laughed. He was leaving the champion, what did he care what they thought?]

[But then... Another chant sprang up, as Ryann and Jackson slowly made their way toward the back.]

"FIVE MORE MINUTES! FIVE MORE MINUTES!"

[Jackson shook his head, that title belt held tight to his chest... But for some odd reason, Jackson's music wasn't playing. And another thing...]

[Wasn't that the Owner of the WWA, Matt Saunders, walking out onto the ramp? The "FIVE MORE MINUTES! FIVE MORE MINUTES!" chant doubled in intensity, as Saunders brought his mike to his lips.]

Saunders: "RESTART THE CLOCK! I WANT FIVE MORE MINUTES!"

[The roar of cheering engulfed the entire arena, Jackson's eyes widening. That mask of hate reappeared on his face, and he stormed up to Saunders, jabbing a finger at the Boss's chest, holding that title belt up, so Saunders could see it!]

[Saunders wasn't swayed, however, and as Jackson postured and roared at Saunders, the executive just grinned and pointed back to the ring.]

DING DING DING!

[Jackson turned and booked it for the ring, not wanting to give any time to recover to the challenger... As soon as Jackson dove in, Domingo began to lay in with those boots, looking like everything he had ever wanted was on the line...]

Keebler: "It all comes down to this! If Domingo can't beat Jackson in these last five minutes, there's no more saving grace!"

Angus: "This kid should seriously go backstage after the match and give Saunders a rimjob or something."

[Jackson bulled to his feet, and simply cracked Domingo in the temple with an elbow, before grabbing Domingo by the back of the head and HAMMERING Domingo's face into his knee! The younger wrestler's eyes rolled up into his head, and he dropped to his knees, as Jackson grinned brightly.]

Keebler: "I would say that that has to be it... If this hasn't happened four other times already. There's no quit in this kid!"

Angus: "Yeah, but seriously, sometimes you have to lose a battle to win the war. This kid's begging for an injury."

[Jackson shoved Domingo down and hooked the leg, crawling atop Domingo for one more attempt at beating the kid clean...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"TH-"

[Domingo somehow, someway managed to get a shoulder up at the last second. He just wouldn't say die! Jackson growled, and yanked Domingo to his feet, before hooking a leg around, and an arm under... And Domingo was pulled into an abdominal stretch!]

Angus: "An abdominal stretch? A resthold, this late in the match?! Haha! Priceless."

[Domingo wouldn't quit... And Jackson was counting on it. As Domingo struggled to get free, Jackson held a hand hiiiigh above his head, fingers waggling, and he slooooowly reached down, grabbing Domingo's right ankle... And pulling up on it! Domingo's leg was twisted up, turning his body into a "C" shape, bending him even FURTHER at the waist!]

Keebler: "This is no normal abdominal stretch!"

Angus: "God DAMN, nice torque on the abs there! Jackson's a fag, no doubt about it, but he's not a completely useless one."

[Domingo's eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a cry of agony. Jackson grinned and slowly stretched back and away, bending Domingo over Jackson's stomach like the oddest torture rack ever... But a brutally effective one.]

Keebler: "If Domingo can't break free, this five minute extension might end with a tapout!"

Angus: "Hah! That'd be funny. The babyface lucks out and gets five more minutes and taps like a bitch."

[Jackson torques Domingo more and more, trying to get the kid to submit, but he just wouldn't quit... So, Jackson would, all of a sudden, let go of the ankle and move his leg, letting ED free... Scoop the kid up and onto a shoulder... Bring Domingo down and hug him tight around the midsection...]

Angus: "Oh shit."

Keebler: "TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER!"

[Domingo's body crumpled bonelessly to the mat, ending up on his back, arms and legs strewn. Jackson grinned devilishly, and took up Domingo's hands, to clasp them over his sternum, like Jackson was arranging Domingo's corpse. The World Champ rose, and put a foot on Domingo's hands, as the ref dove in to count the pin...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

Keebler: "DOMINGO KEEPS KICKING OUT!"

Angus: "This kid has a serious death wish!"

[Jackson growled, and grabbed Domingo by the hair, pulling him up. Hooking first one arm, then the other, he began to fire off knees directly at Domingo's head, rattling the kid's brain and smashing his face...Domingo was out on his feet, held up mostly by Jackson's sheer grit and want to hurt the poor kid...]

Keebler: "Domingo's got to be done..."

[The World Champ brought Domingo in close, arms still hooked, and dropped out, smashing Domingo's face into the mat. The challenger was stunned, crushed, and down... Jackson rolled him over, onto his back, trying for yet another pin...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"TH-"

[Domingo threw up a shoulder! Jackson gritted his teeth, and yanked Domingo back to his feet, and under-hooked the arms, dead-set on knocking the kid out with those brutal knee strikes. Hauling off, Jackson hammered a knee in... And another... And then...]

[Domingo broke free! He caught one of the knees, and whirled, snapping Jackson down with the dragon screw leg whip!]

Angus: "He's got some serious balls!"

Keebler: "This is your very last chance, Eduardo! Make it count!"

[The challenger began to hammer stomps on Jackson's chest, snapping a kick directly into Jackson's face as he tried to sit up.]

"THERE IS ONE MINUTE REMAINING!"

[ED's eyes opened wide. Another stomp to the head, and with Jackson stunned, ED turned and dashed to the ropes. Spring-boarding off the middle rope, Domingo came crashing down with a legdrop across the neck, and a quick hook of the leg...]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"NO!"

[Jackson kicks out, once more! Eduardo grabbed Jackson's hair, pulling him to his feet. A quick hook of the head, in that cravate...]

Angus: "He really loves that finisher!"

Keebler: "The Buenas Noches has been successful in the past!"

[The champion fights with everything he's got, he curls his arm around the top rope in a death-grip and Eduardo is forced to release the hold. Jackson does his best to drop between the ropes but Domingo will have nothing of it.]

Angus: "Look at Jackson, he just wants to leave!

Keebler: "Whatever Eduardo's got, he'd better lay it all out on the line and quick, if my time's right we're under thirty seconds!

Angus: "Here he goes again!"

[Suddenly, making his way down the aisle unobserved, as all eyes are riveted to the match taking place in the ring, is the new WWA World title division head, and former two-time World champion, Ryan Blasier. The only people who seem to notice his appearance are those fans seated near the aisle, and react negatively to it. But their cat-calls are easily drowned out by the screaming of the rest of the capacity crowd, who can't take their eyes off the battle in the ring.]

Keebler: "Is that .. It's Ryan Blasier!"

Angus: "What the fuck's he doing here?"

Keebler: "By the looks of it, he wants a front row seat of the action."

Angus: "Well, I guess that's one of the perks of being the new World title division head, huh?"

[Taking a seat on a steel folding chair by the time-keeper's chair, Blasier ignores the baleful stare aimed in his direction by WWA owner Matt Saunders, and paints a perfectly innocent looking smile on his face, as he sits back and enjoys the action in the ring.]

[Domingo again grabs Jackson by the head, he launches himself upward but the Champion uses every bit of weight and balance he can muster to stop Ed from flipping over into the Buenas Noches.]

Keebler: "He can't get over! The champion is just too strong!"

[Jackson musters every bit of energy he has to rush toward the opposite ropes with Domingo still held above his head half-way into his finisher.]

Angus: "He's gonna launch the little guy into the third row!

[And he tries to, too, but Domingo thought he might go this route and for the first time in this match used his diminutive stature to his advantage and positioned himself so that he could spring both feet onto the top rope and push himself up and over Jackson, driving him face-first into the mat.]

Keebler: "BUEEEEEEEENAAAAAAS NOOOOOOOOOCHEEEEEEEEEES!!!"

Angus: "TEN SECONDS LEFT!"

[Ten.]

[Jackson is out, face-first on that mat.]

[Nine.]

[Domingo is exhausted, also face-first on the mat.]

[Eight.]

[Ryann is screaming her lungs out at ringside.]

[Seven.]

[Every seat in the house is empty.]

[Six.]

[The noise is deafening.]

[Five.]

[Domingo crawls forward, rolling Jackson onto his back. He covers the champion with one arm as he falls on top of him with nothing left in the reserves.]

ONE!!!

[Four.]

[Jackson is still out.]

TWO!!!

[Three.]

[The crown goes wild.]

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

[Domingo's music plays through the PA but you'd be hard pressed to hear it. Ryann is beside herself at ringside as the ring announcer makes the announcement.]

"Your winner...

...and NEW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!"

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

"EDUAAAAAAAAAAAAAARDO DOOOOOOOOOMIIIIIIIIINGOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

[The crowd continues to roar its approval, serenading Domingo with their love and affection.]

[Meanwhile, Blasier stands from where he took a seat at ringside, and makes his way over to the announce table, where the World title belt currently resides. Snatching it up off the table, he motions for the ring announcer to hand him a microphone, then with a casual arrogance, slides under the bottom rope.]

Keebler: "Uh ... what's Blasier doing?"

Angus: "What a great guy! He's going to present the World title to Domingo personally!"

Keebler: "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Angus: "Shut the fuck up. He's about to talk."

[With Domingo looking on, staring in wonder at the gold plating-on-black leather belt held in Blasier's hands, the prize that he'd just spent the past thirty-five minutes spilling his blood, sweat and tears to attain, Blasier makes his way to the center of the ring.]

[Domingo's music cuts out, and all eyes in the arena focus on Blasier. Looking from Domingo, to the defeated Jackson, to WWA owner Matt Saunders, Blasier smirks as he brings the microphone to his mouth.]

Blasier: "First off, congratulations to Eduardo Domingo ..."

[The crowd roars loudly.]

Blasier: "Helluva match, kid. Helluva match. Especially the way you dug deep and found that little bit extra in the overtime period ... I swear, Eddie, I got goose bumps watching that."

[He moves closer to Domingo, who is only now rising to his feet. Domingo smiles and mutters his thanks, as Blasier holds the World title belt out to him. Domingo eyes it with a reverent look on his face, as though he's in the presence of the Holy Grail itself.]

Blasier: "Unfortunately ..."

[Abruptly, Blasier pulls the belt away from Domingo. Domingo's eyes go wide in confusion, and the entire crowd releases a collective gasp of shock.]

Blasier: "Tonight just isn't your night, Eddie."

[The crowd begins to boo, loudly. Domingo holds his arms out, in a gesture asking 'why?'. Blasier smiles at the reaction, turning to look at Jackson, who is only now beginning to stir. He then turns his attention to Saunders, who, just like the rest of the people in attendance, is on the brink of explosion.]

Blasier: "This is my World title division, Saunders. Mine! I don't know what the hell you think you were doing earlier, but you don't get to call the shots around here. I do."

[His smile grows wider at Saunders' reaction. The fans, realizing something shady is going on, hurl verbal abuse Blasier's way, as Domingo simply looks on, dumbfounded.]

Blasier: "And, as my first act as new World title division head, I'm ruling that this overtime period that Saunders sanctioned, and the events that transpired within ..."

[Dramatic pause.]

Blasier: "Null and void!"

[A HUGE eruption from the crowd, the kind of white hot anger that is near riotous.]

Blasier: "Therefore, the match ends in a time-limit draw. And therefore, still World champion ..."

[Shit-eating grin.]

Blasier: "Brrrraaaaaad JJJJJJJackson!"

[Suddenly, Blasier becomes the target of a hundred or so pieces of flying debris, ranging from plastic cups, to rolled-up magazines, to one inventive soul, who launches a blow-up doll with a likeness of Sergeiev Bogorovich, at him.]

[Blasier, ignoring the pleas from Domingo and his camp, tosses the World title belt at Jackson's feet, then makes his way from the ring, tossing Saunders one last smirk and a wink, before making his exit.]

[Winner: Time Limit Draw - Jackson retains]

-----

DDK: YOU'VE GOT TO BE FREAKING KIDDING ME!

Angus: You can say that again! I don't know if this is the best thing to ever happen in the WWA, or an atrocity even bigger than we ever thought we saw out of Mandrake!

DDK: WE'RE OUT OF TIME FOLKS!

Angus: Keep it locked to wwa-underground.com for details about Blasier and everything you've seen tonight, for Keebs, I'm Angus Skaaland, WE'LL SEE YOU AT SUMMER GAMES!

[End.]

-The World fantasy Wrestling Alliance would like to thank everyone involved in making this event a success. From the handlers who put in their hard work writing roleplays and segments, to the staff members who painstakingly pieced it together, everyone should be applauded, and as such, we applaud you. Also the Alliance would like to thank one specific individual who has made this happen for all of us for a very long time, you know who you are, Thank You.