*************************************************** *************************************************** *************************************************** Pro Wrestling Revolution "You Say You Want A Revolution... Again." January 12, 2008 Elks Lodge, Reseda, California *************************************************** *************************************************** *************************************************** [As we fade in from black, we find a dingy, dirty, jam-packed Elks Lodge in Reseda, California. The fans are milling around, looking for a seat not next to a smelly fat guy in a too small t-shirt with their favorite wrestler or ironic statement on it not to mention avoiding someone with a stopwatch ready to transcribe all the match times. The building seems to be pretty full and only getting fuller as people walk back from the small bar at the back of the room clutching plastic cups with beer in them. A handful of fans have grabbed seats in metal folding chairs on an elevated platform - a stage - that actually stands slightly higher than the ring itself. The ring is your standard affair, ropes of black-gold-black from top to bottom. Brand new gold ring apron drapes hang from the sides of the ring. The turnbuckles are your typical American individual buckles matching the same color scheme as the ropes. The canvas is your standard plain white mat. Metal folding chairs surround the ring on the other three sides with no barricades between the seats and the fans. There are also no safety mats outside the ring... cash rules everything around me... and this particular indy promotion just doesn't have the fundage. There is a slight buzz in the air as the final fans take their seats and suddenly the small PA system comes to life with the sounds of Ennio Morricone's "The Ecstacy of Gold." The crowd roars to life for the music that can only mean the entrance of one man... former World Champion, former world-renowned announcer, former promoter... Todd Michaelson. Michaelson steps through the curtain to a large ovation, clad in a stylish black suit. He pauses just through the curtain, spreading his arms as he soaks up the cheers of the fans. A big grin crosses his face as he slaps a few fans' hands while walking towards the ring. He steps up onto the ring apron, climbing into the ring where he gets another large ovation before grabbing the house mic from the timekeeper.] TM: Well, well, well... how the hell've you been? [A big smile as the crowd cheers.] TM: Nearly three years ago to the day, Pro Wrestling Revolution shut down. [Jeers from the fans keep the smile on Todd's face.] TM: I didn't want it to happen, the boys didn't want it to happen, the fans didn't want it to happen. But we can't always get what we want. [Michaelson pauses for a moment.] TM: Joan Wallach Scott said "Those who expect moments of change to be comfortable and free of conflict have not learned their history." On March 28th, 2004, those were the first words spoken on a PWR show and as I look back on them, you can see how true it is. Discomfort? Check. Conflict? Got it. The people in this building... in that locker room... in this ring... are committed to bringing you the moments of change that you, they, we all crave. We are committed to bringing this business to the next level. We are committed to bringing you a revolution the likes of which the business has not seen. The Revolution will not be televised. It will not be in the big sparkling arenas. It will not be with giant foam fingers. It will not be with t-shirts produced by the thousands. It will not be with video games and action figures and wall posters. It will be with the very best competition this business can offer. It will be with the fighting spirit that possesses men of true will who want to make a difference. It will be with the quality of action that no other company can match. It will be a revolution the way we want to do it... and the way you want to see it... [Michaelson takes a deep breath, soaking up some more cheers.] TM: So, with that... I leave you with another quote... George Bernard Shaw said, "Revolutionary moments attract those who are not good enough for established institutions as well as those who are too good for them." [A smirk.] TM: That's my open invitation. PWR has no money. I have no money. If you're looking for the big payday, look elsewhere. All we have is an ideal, a fighting spirit, and a locker room full of guys who want to open the world's eyes. So, to those of you who have been told you're not good enough for World Pro 1... [Boos! Indy fans hate the "big time."] TM: To those of you who have been told you're not good enough for the River City... [More boos.] TM: And to those of you who deep down in your heart _know_ that _you_ are too good for those places. Too good to be a part of the status quo. Too good to be a part of the mainstream. Too good to be a part of the same old song and dance. I call you to Los Angeles. I call you to the Spirit of the Revolution. I call you to this very ring. If you've ever thought you wanted to be a part of something different, something new, something exciting... we're waiting for you. And if you ev- [Suddenly, Michaelson is cut off by the sounds of Wu-Tang Clan's "C.R.E.A.M." We can spot fans jumping to their feet, craning their necks in an attempt to get a view of who is coming into the Elks Lodge. The familiar sound of Jason Dane's voice is heard providing commentary.] JD: Fans, I had hoped for a moment to re-introduce myself and to thank you all for joining us on this DVD release of "You Say You Want A Revolution... Again" but that does not look to be possible. The boss, Todd Michaelson, is in the ring and has been abruptly interrupted by- oh you've got to be kidding me! [After a couple moments, the curtain parts to reveal a familiar face in a very fancy gold-colored suit. He carries a large metal briefcase in one hand and can be seen adjusting the Bluetooth earpiece on his right ear as he steps into view. He speaks into a clip-on wireless mic on his lapel.] "For those of you who are not aware, my name is Ben Waterson and I am the Agent To The Stars." [Waterson looks around with a sneer at the jeering crowd.] BW: I knew it, Michaelson... I just knew it. [Todd looks out at Waterson with a confused look.] BW: I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the "big comeback." [Yes, he does finger quotes. Dick.] BW: Ever since I left PWR... "left" PWR... I've waited. Let's shoot this straight though, Todd. Let's tell these people the truth. [Michaelson looks a little annoyed now.] TM: Alright, Waterson. Here's the truth. You couldn't cut it as a pro wrestler. [Pop!] TM: You thought you were better than everyone else in PWR because you used to kick people around in Mixed Martial Arts. You thought you were better than guys like Jaiden Andrews, Crusher Tyler, and El Hijo Del Diablo because you had "credentials." But the fact was, you couldn't hack it in the Dojo... you couldn't hack it in this ring... so you ran off back to MMA. And you failed there too! [Big pop! Waterson turns red with anger as he gestures wildly at Michaelson.] BW: FALSE! Revisionist history at its' finest! The fact is that I dominated the Dojo, Michaelson! I tapped out all your boys... all your prized students... all those suck-ups who hung around the Dojo and told you how great you were. But you're not great, Todd. You're not great now... and you never were! [Michaelson smirks as the crowd boos.] TM: Fine, whatever. I'm not here to argue about _my_ credentials with you. I'm here to put on- [Waterson interrupts.] BW: I know exactly why you're here, Michaelson! I know exactly why! You want to start a... [chuckles]... "revolution." You want these people to believe that somehow PWR is going to be different... be unique... be better than the dreck they've been watching for decades on American television. You say you want a revolution, Michaelson? Well, you've got one! [Waterson turns to the side and the crowd roars at the sight of a large Russian man walking through the entrance curtain. His head is shaved and he stands in a pair of MMA-style shorts, bare footed, bare chested, and glaring at the man standing inside the ring.] BW: I know you know this man, Todd. I know you've seen the DVDs. I can see the fear in your eyes, son! [Michaelson's gaze is locked on the Russian in the aisle as Waterson continues the hype job.] BW: He has competed in the sport of kings... Mixed Martial Arts... all over the globe! He's held titles on every continent where men do battle! He's beaten the best that every martial arts discipline has to offer! They've brought him the best in judo... in karate... in boxing... in wrestling... in jiu-jitsu... in Muay Thai... and he's laid waste to them all. He came to the United States on a hunt... on a PRO WRESTLER HUNT! [Waterson cackles.] BW: And he's destroyed everyone put in his path in that realm as well. I've sent him all over the States, fighting, learning... waiting. Waiting for you, Todd Michaelson. Waiting for the day when your arrogance was too much for you to hold down. You think that you can revolutionize the fighting world? You think you can save us all from the crap in this business? _I_ can save us all. _This_ man can save us all. _This_ man will run through Pro Wrestling Revolution like a hot knife through butter. _This_ man will send his opponents to the hospital by the truckloads. _This_ man will take no prisoners... will show no mercy... and will revolutionize what a professional wrestler is supposed to be like in this industry. [A pause.] BW: Kolya Sudakov has come to Pro Wrestling Revolution, Michaelson... consider yourself warned. [Waterson turns his back on the ring, starting towards the locker room when Michaelson interrupts.] TM: Now wait one second, Waterson! [The Agent To The Stars turns to face the PWR owner once more.] TM: You don't come out here in front of these fans, drop a challenge like that, and run for it. Not on my watch. [The crowd begins to buzz a bit.] TM: Your big Russian back there... I see he's got his gear on... [The buzz grows louder.] TM: And I bet if I went back there and looked in the locker room... I bet I might find _my_ gear too. [POP!] TM: So, Ben, my boy... since your ass can't cover the checks your mouth is out here writing... maybe your boy can! [BIG POP!] TM: Tonight... in this ring... I feel a comeback in the air. Todd Michaelson... Kolya Sudakov... let's hook 'em up! [The crowd roars at Michaelson's challenge, the PWR Owner pacing the ring waiting for a response.] BW: You... you want Kolya?! [Waterson looks surprised... a look that quickly turns to overconfidence.] BW: Crushing your little revolution is going to be easier than I thought. Michaelson, since you're so fond of quotes... let me give you one to chew on for the next couple hours... Alexis de Tocqueville once said, "In a revolution, the most difficult part to invent is the end." [Waterson smirks.] BW: But don't worry, Todd. Thanks to us... the end will be real easy for you. This man will rear back and deliver the most dreaded high kick in the fighting world. One kick... and your lights go out, your career is ended, and your revolution vanishes like a whisper in the wind. [The Agent chuckles at the booing crowd.] BW: So, to answer your challenge for tonight? We accept. [The Soviet National Anthem starts up again as Waterson and Sudakov make their exit out of the Elks Lodge.] JD: Wow! Kolya Sudakov vs Todd Michaelson... tonight! And this relaunch of Pro Wrestling Revolution is off to a big bang here tonight, fans! We have a fantastic lineup already in place and that's just another great addition to it. But you have to wonder if Todd Michaelson physically is able to compete in a match like that. I know he competed in a tournament a few months back but still... ever since the back injury many years ago, Todd has always been a bad fall away from a wheelchair. And with someone like Sudakov in there with him, you've gotta believe that bad fall could happen tonight. [The camera cuts away from an exiting Michaelson to Jason Dane who is sitting at ringside now.] JD: Pro Wrestling Revolution is back... and I'm back here with it, right where I started. It's an exciting night for me and by the sound of it, these fans are pretty excited as well! I've worked all over the world in the three years since PWR closed up shop but I've always held out hope that someday I'd get to come back. On that note, we want to welcome someone new to the PWR family... he is our intrepid backstage reporter who will be getting us all the dirt, all the scoop, all the news that's fit to print... Mark Stegglet! Mark? [We cut to the backstage area - which is basically just a hallway with chipped paint and a few pictures of old men who we can only presume are Elks. Stegglet is dressed in a black "PWR" t-shirt and jeans and seems damn excited.] MS: Thanks, JD! When Mr. Michaelson sent me a text message and left me a MySpace message and commented on my blog to ask if I wanted a job, I couldn't wait to tell the world on my podcast, Wrestling With Myself. My Uncle Jon is proud too! This is going to be huge for my career! No more working at Blockbuster! No more selling pirated DVDs online! I'm in the big time now! Oh! News! [Stegglet gets his serious face on... which basically makes him look like he has to crap.] MS: I suppose the big news is that Jason doesn't get to work alone anymore. Our "market research" which basically consisted of me going on IRC and asking guys in an e-wrestling channel if they liked solo commentators said that we need to get a color guy on the job! Unfortunately, we haven't been able to find one yet. So, starting with our opening match, we're going to be having open tryouts to see who gets the job! And the first candidate? Sunshine Stevens, a young lady with big aspirations here in PWR! Good luck, JD! [And with that, we cut back to ringside to find Jason Dane seated next to a very buxom young blonde.] JD: Sunshine Stevens, welcome to PWR! SS: This is like the totally coolest thing I've ever done. JD: Err... okay. Sunshine, being an announcer is a very challenging role. Have you ever done this before? SS: No way but I've been watching wrestling tapes for like... a whole month. I know what I'm doing! JD: I see. Well, best of luck to you because it's time for our opening match. And I'm very happy to announce that our old friend Melissa Cannon is back with us as our ring announcer! Melissa? [The camera cuts to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing in a midriff-revealing old school PWR tanktop and a pair of black jeans.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit... introducing first... he stands 6'1 and weighed in at 240 pounds... from partner promotion Tiger Paw Pro in Japan... He is the BLUUUUUUUUUE TIIIIIIIIGERRRRR!!! [A pretty good sized pop from the DVDVR geeks in the crowd goes up as the sounds of Eminem's "Bully" trickle over the PA. The picture-in-picture screen pops up revealing Mark Stegglet.] MS: Wow! A major coup here for Pro Wrestling Revolution! Blue Tiger is a major star in the Land of the Rising Sun, fans. He has been dominant in Tiger Paw Pro since its' inception and has also freelanced in many other promotions in Japan and Mexico. His feud with Akira Goto in Tiger Paw Pro is legendary throughout the wrestling world. A big signing for him to be here in Los Angeles making his United States debut! [The PIP fades away as Blue Tiger comes through the curtain in all blue [shocking, huh?] His blue bodysuit is loose-fitting with a beautifully stitched silver tiger on the chest. Rounding out the ensemble is a blue mask that is designed to look like a tiger's mouth, complete with mock teeth. A large hole is cut in the back of the mask to let a long blue braided ponytail into view. Just a few feet into the aisle, he stops to glare at a ringside fan.] JD: Uh oh, we may have a problem here. SS: No way, Jason! I'm here! JD: Uhh... I meant with Blue Tiger and- SS: Ewww! Who dresses in all blue? It's such a fashion disaster. [The fan continues to jaw at Blue Tiger... ...and gets piefaced down to the floor for his trouble. The masked man stands his ground, almost as if waiting to see if the fallen fan plans on doing anything about it.] JD: We need some security out here. If anyone in the back is listening- SS: Let's go to his opponent! JD: But we've got a situation- SS: Whatever! Roll it! [The camera cuts away from the scene to footage labeled "EARLIER TODAY!" We are zoomed in tightly on a skintight black wifebeater with "R.I.P. Corey" airbrushed (badly) in a barely readable gold print. The camera slowly zooms out to reveal the familiar face of "Super Rad" Billy Kane to the fans of Pro Wrestling Revolution.] BK: I can't believe he's gone... I just can't- [Billy drops his chin down, a sniffle barely audible.] BK: But we keepin' things goin'... just the way he would've wanted. Pro Wrestling Revolution, for those of you who don't know me, my name is Billy Kane. "Super Rad" Billy Kane. [A slight smile.] BK: I was formerly one-half of the bestest tag team this sport has even seen - the Token White Boyz. We saw a million cities and we rocked 'em all. We were the best. We battled the best. We went to Disneyland together. [Huh?] BK: Corey taught me how to beat Halo... the first Halo, the real Halo... not all this Halo 3 crap the kids are playin' now. We had so many good times fraggin' seven year olds on Live. It was... it was special. [Another sniffle.] BK: But it's over now! It's all over! Corey was on a tour of Malaysia with a promoter... and he never came home! They say... they said it was a tragic Dance Dance Revolution accident. He loved that game. [He pauses for a bit... letting out a kinda howling moan.] BK: So, when they called me up and wanted the original Rock And Wrestling Connection here in the City of Angels, I have to admit... I cried a little. "Mr. Michaelson," I said, "Corey's gone to that big Game Over in the sky and he won't be getting revived by some of Link's potion!" [More sniffling.] BK: But I couldn't let the TWB name die. Corey would've wanted it to live on. He would have wanted us to enter the Contra Code and get 30 more lives together! Well, you got it, buddy! We're going to continue in Co-Op even with you gone! I searched the world... of Warcraft... to find the best partner I could possibly find. I needed someone with fighting spirit like Ryu... with animal ferocity like Blanka... with a spinning piledriver like Zangief... with legs like Chun Li... [What the hell?] BK: It took me days... weeks... I spent so much time on the Warcraft servers... well, they thought it was just another month for me. But it wasn't! I was on a quest! I was on an adventure to find the Triforce of wrestling power! And I found it! I found a young man who grew up idolizin' the TWB Express. He said he always wanted to be like us... he always wanted to be one of us... His said his given name was Jin Tao - he thought of himself as a kind of "Spirit Warrior." I thought of him a friend... an ally... a partner. [Billy perks up a bit.] BK: The TWB will live on, Corey! And it will live on in your cyber life partner, Billy Kane... and the young man who will carry our legacy into the next century once cryogenics allow me to have his head severed and frozen for later reactivation... His name... is... JIMMY WII! [Billy pauses for the huge crowd pop that will never come. Partially because it's a pre-taped interview not being shown to the crowd but let's ignore that.] BK: Jimmy Wii and Billy Kane are side by side, droppin' credits, swingin' joysticks, and becoming world class bowlers in our own living rooms! Corey... this one's for you, buddy. Let's rock. [And as we zoom in on Billy's skintight shirt once more, we fade back to the ring where Blue Tiger is now leaning in the corner, waiting for his opposition.] MC: And his opponent... standing 5'9 and weighing in at 170 pounds... he hails from Las Vegas, Nevada... he is accompanied to the ring by his tag team partner "Super Rad" Billy Kane... JIMMY WII!!! [The crowd chuckles as the sounds of "Pac Man Fever" starts up over the PA system. A few moments later, the new Token White Boyz burst through the curtain to a pretty decent reaction. They're wearing matching silver baggy pants and dusters over t-shirts. Billy's t-shirt features Master Chief in a promo for the first Halo game... kickin' it old school. Jimmy is sporting a red and blue t-shirt with Mario about to get the mushroom. It's good, clean geeky fun... just like writing imaginary wrestling matches for imaginary wrestling characters that other cybergeeks put words in their imaginary mouths.] JD: Haha! The Token White Boyz... the new Token White Boyz... are in Pro Wrestling Revolution, Sunshine! SS: Who? JD: The Token White Boyz. They were the wrestling equivalent of a cult classic several years ago. SS: Never heard of them. JD: I guess your tape watching didn't go past 2006? SS: I know Sushi Tsunami. JD: Oh dear. SS: Is Psicopa in Pro Wrestling Revolution? That monkey was soooo cute! [Jimmy Wii quickly scales the steps, slingshotting over the top rope... ...and eating a running back elbow from Blue Tiger that takes him off his feet. The referee quickly calls for the bell to start the match as a few well-placed stomps find the mark.] JD: Blue Tiger with an assault before the bell and this match is underway in a hurry. SS: That really doesn't seem fair, Jason. JD: It's really not, Sunshine. In fact, it's a pretty blatant violation of the rules. SS: It seems like someone should do something about that. JD: Err... well, maybe you can talk to the boss about the rules enforcement later tonight. SS: I think I will! [A few more stomps send Jimmy Wii rolling out to the apron where Billy Kane is waiting with a few words of advice. Blue Tiger approaches, dragging Wii back to his feet... ...and blasting him with a chop across the t-shirt covered chest that knocks him back against the ropes.] JD: Big chop by Blue Tiger! He appears to be quite the heavy hitter in there. The referee is trying to get him to back off the ropes but- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JD: Ohhhh my! Right on target! [The smaller Wii clutches his chest, dropping down to his knees in pain... ...and eating a hard kick to the chest that completely folds the kid back.] JD: Oh man! He's on his knees but bent all the way back so that his back is on the mat. How can someone bend that way? SS: It's pretty easy actually. You just have to be flexible enough to bend back so that he can get his co- JD: Whoa! That's not at all what I had in mind. SS: You're a guy, aren't you? It's always what you have in mind. [With Wii folded backwards, Blue Tiger leaps into the air and drives both feet down into the midsection with a double stomp that makes the crowd cringe.] JD: Ooof! If the double stomp to the belly isn't bad enough, being folded back like that has to destroy your hamstrings and quads! Blue Tiger absolutely punishing the kid so far in this one. [Reaching down, he tugs Wii off the mat by the hair... and blasts him with another chop that deposits the rookie in the corner.] JD: Back to the corner now... this isn't where Jimmy Wii wants to be, Sunshine. SS: Why not? JD: Because when you're cornered like that, you're pretty much at your opponent's mercy. SS: Ohhhhh! That makes sense. You're pretty good at this, Jason. JD: Thanks, I think. SS: How am I doing? JD: You're doing... err... fine. SS: Am I the best color commentator ever?! JD: Uhhh. SS: I'm just kidding, Jason. I know I'm not the best ever... yet. JD: Whew. SS: Of course, I'm sure I'm the best female commentator ever! JD: If I want to ever go to a family dinner again, I'm going with a "no comment" on that one. [A few hard forearms to the sternum of Jimmy Wii have him gasping for air as Blue Tiger reaches up and slaps him across the face.] JD: Oh! What a slap! Adding insult to injury right there. [A second slap bounces off the ear of Jimmy Wii, causing him to topple over but the masked man keeps him standing.] JD: Come on, referee! Back him off the kid! SS: This Blue Tiger guy seems really mean. JD: A pretty simple analysis but I'd have to agree. SS: You mean, I'm right? JD: Well, yes. SS: Ha! I knew I was getting better at this! [Blue Tiger grabs the rookie by the wrist, hurling him across the ring with an irish whip to the opposite corner.] JD: Corner to corner whip by the masked man from Japan... here he comes! [The Tiger Paw Pro competitor sprints across the ring, leaping into the air, and crushing Jimmy Wii with a spinning leg lariat in the buckles.] JD: Ohhhh! What a crushing blow by Blue Tiger! [Jimmy Wii hangs on to the top rope, barely able to stand as Blue Tiger stands on the apron where he landed... and promptly cuffs Wii on the back of the head with a slap.] JD: What a jerk! Blue Tiger is just abusing this kid in there. [The masked man quickly scales the ropes behind Wii, placing his knee firmly against the back of the rookie's head before leaping from the top, driving Wii's face into the mat with the help of the knee.] JD: That's gotta be it there. [Blue Tiger flips him onto his back for a lateral press.] JD: One! Two! Th- [The crowd boos wildly as Blue Tiger pulls Wii off the mat by the hair, shaking his head at the referee.] JD: Oh, come on! This match should be over but he just wants to punish this kid in front of this wild PWR crowd! This is totally uncalled for! Totally unacceptable! SS: And it's just mean! JD: Err... right! [Tiger regains his feet, ignoring the referee's protests as he pulls Wii off the mat as well, dragging him into a standing headscissors.] JD: A powerbomb? A piledriver? [The masked man hoists Wii off the mat into a powerbomb position... ...but is surprised when Wii somehow wiggles free, landing on his feet behind Tiger.] JD: He escapes the powerbomb! Wii got out and- [As Blue Tiger turns around, Jimmy Wii leaps into action with a series of rights and lefts, thrown with perfect boxing precision.] JD: Wow! Look at the punches being thrown there! He looks like a pro boxer in there! He's rocking the masked man from Japan! [With Tiger dazed against the ropes, Wii backs off, lifting both hands and yelling "WII BOXING!"] JD: Did he just- SS: Oh my gawd, Jason! Wii Boxing is SOOO much fun! My husband bought it for me for my birthday and- JD: Did you say your husb-? [With Tiger staggering away from the ropes, Wii sprints across the ring, leaping into a flying tackle that shoves Tiger into the corner.] JD: Hey... that kind of looked that that move that Raiden does in Mortal Kom- [The crowd roars as Billy Kane shouts "CONTRA CODE!" to his protege who yanks Tiger out of the corner by the hair..] JD: Did he just say- [Holding Tiger by his blue hair, Wii leaps once, driving a knee into the head... and twice, driving a knee to the skull once more.] JD: Up, up... [Wii releases the hair, lashing out with a hard kick to the side of Tiger's knee before dropping down into a full legsweep that drops Tiger down to his knees.] JD: Down, down... [Springing back to his feet, Wii races to the left side of the ring, rebounding back with a savage facewash kick.] JD: Left... [He keeps running to the right side, rebounding off the ropes again... ...and driving both feet into the face with a second facewash kick.] JD: Right... [Wii pops right back up, leaping into the air with a backflip and driving his boot into the top of the dazed and kneeling Tiger's skull.] JD: OHHHH! BACKFLIP KICK!!! Backflip... hrm, that must be "B." What's he going to do for "A"? SS: Is this like H-O-R-S-E? JD: Not exactly. [Grabbing the dazed Tiger by the wrist, Wii performs a quick armtwist and snaps off a kick to the back of the head that puts Tiger down on his back on the mat.] JD: ARMTWIST KICK! THAT'S THE "A!" [With Kane hollering his approval, Wii quickly steps out to the apron, scaling the ropes as fast as possible.] JD: Jimmy Wii is up top! We've only got one thing left! [And with a bellow of "SHOOTING START LEGDROP!", Wii hurls himself into the air, flipping backwards as he sails forward... ...and comes crashing down to the canvas with a thud as Blue Tiger just barely avoided the dive!] JD: OHHHHHH! He missed it! He missed the legdrop! [A pissed-off Tiger pushes up to his feet, hoisting Wii up into a crucifix powerbomb position... ...and swinging him down as he's sitting out, _spiking_ Wii headfirst into the canvas!] JD: OHHHHHHHH, ABUUUUUUUNAAAAAAAI!!! [Tiger flips into a lateral press, pushing his forearm into the face of the unconscious Wii.] JD: It's all over after that. One, two, three. [DING DING DING] MC: Your winner of the match... BLUUUUUUUE TIGER!!! [A few people cheer the bully from the Orient but there are mostly boos as Tiger shoves off the mat, driving a final kick into the ribs of Jimmy Wii as he has his hand raised in victory. A concerned Billy Kane is quickly into the ring, kneeling over his protege to check on him after that violent drop onto the top of his head.] JD: An obviously-worried Billy Kane in the ring to check on Jimmy Wii. That kid fought his heart out in there and was just a few inches away from probably scoring a huge upset. Blue Tiger is a major star in Japan as we heard from Mark Stegglet, our backstage reporter, earlier so a win over him would have been huge for Jimmy Wii. SS: That Blue Tiger guy got cocky and it almost cost him the match, Jason. JD: Wow. That's... well, that's actually true. SS: I rock. You can say it. It's okay. JD: Blue Tiger is leaving the ring, victorious in his debut and- [The crowd roars with disapproval as the savage Blue Tiger drills Billy Kane in the back of the head and neck with a brutal lariat!] JD: Oh, come on! Referee, do something about this! [The referee leaps into action, trying to force Tiger back as he stomps the neck of the "Super Rad" one.] JD: This is absolutely uncalled for! Blue Tiger won the match... what more does he want?! [A few more stomps land on their target before Tiger backs off at the threat of being disqualified, stepping through the ropes to the jeers of the crowd.] JD: Blue Tiger is your winner... but he's a punk... a bully... and I personally can't stand it. SS: He does seem pretty mean. JD: That's right. We've got some medics in the ring trying to help Jimmy Wii and I'd presume Billy Kane may need their help as well now. Both look to be responsive so that's always good to see. Well, Sunshine... thanks for joining me for this match. You did pretty well for your tryout. SS: Did I get the job? JD: Well, that's not up to me. You'll need to talk to Mr. Michaelson about that. SS: I did that earlier. I wanted to show him my outfit for tonight. JD: Um, well... that's good to know. But my sist- SS: I think that Mark Stegglet kid might have been watching too. I heard panting at the door. JD: I don't really think we- SS: And the floor outside seemed a little stick- JD: Okay, let's move on from there. And on that note, let's go back to... ummm, well, this is awkward... I understand Mark Stegglet has some news for us. Mark? [We cut to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet looks on, his face as red as a tomato.] MS: I... uhh... she's not right, Jason. I swear. [No response.] MS: Jason? [Nothing.] MS: We, uhh... we must be having some technicial difficulties. Fans, what an exciting night we've seen here so far and it only promises to get better! I'm told that our next match is going to be showcasing a new star here to the world of professional wrestling. The young man's name is Luke Bradley and he is a former bodybuilder who went by the name of Curt Patterson. No idea why he has changed his name but- [Suddenly, Mark Stegglet is interrupted by a very muscular, very well-tanned man with a bleached blond flat-top haircut. He grabs Stegglet's arm and immediately begins bellowing into the mic with a wild-eyed, screaming fashion.] LB: Don't you worry your little head about it, Mark Stegglet! Don't worry about why I'm suddenly Luke Bradley! You worry about what Luke Bradley is going to do to the city of Los Angeles, little man! MS: To the city... I don't- LB: You see, Marky Mark... it wasn't supposed to be like this. I came to town, ridin' my big Harley Davidson with my bag strapped to my back, for the MuscleFest '07 down the block. I was up there, rockin' the double bicep... bustin' the back... I was showin' the world the guns they paid good money to see. And there he was. In the corner of the room, smiling like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, amigo. Bill Masterson had seen the light! MS: I'm sorry... did you say Bill Master- LB: He had seen the way! He had seen the money! And when I struck the big abs pose, the room shook, my friend! There was an earthquake of Luke Bradley shakin' the Sunset Strip like it had never been shaken before. The glass broke, the subway cars all went off the grid, the lights flickered... but Luke Bradley stood solid, makin' the world quake and bake. And that was just from showing off the guns, daddy. Just imagine, Marky Mark... you imagine for a second what it'll be like when I'm in that ring. [He takes a deep breath, silent for a moment... ...and then bursts out once more.] LB: IT'LL BE PANDEMONIUM, DADDY! IT'LL BE WORLDBREAKIN'! The muscles shook the ground but the largest arms in the world being inside a wrestling ring may just send a crack right down the middle of the 405 Freeway! It'll snap the place in half just like the San Andreas Fault! And as I'm rockin' and rollin' all night at the Viper Room in the VIP section... as the ladies crowd around wantin' to know just how Luke Bradley rolls a seven every time... as the men crowd around wantin' to know how it feels to have the most defined abs in the world... when the kids line up around the block just to get a picture with the man destined to make legends and break legends... That's when you'll hear the crying, Marky! MS: I'm sorry, the cry- LB: The crying, Marky! The crying of mothers clinging to their children... of husbands clinging to their wives... to fat-bellied whores clinging to their Cornish Game Hens... to bankrupt addicts clinging to their stashes... the Sunset Strip will be awash in tears, daddy! And as Dodger Stadium sinks into the sand... as the Staples Center melts into the oceans... as the tar pits dry up and the freeways jam... Luke Bradley will stand in the middle of it all, right on that crack that I caused... and I will hold the land together, Marky! Just like Moses parted the seas, I'll bring the land together... I'll hold the land together... I will make the world one as those kids, those mothers, those husbands and wives swim through the Pacific Ocean for their lives. Oh, we'll let the fat cats and junkies drown like wet cats, Marky... don'tchaworryboutthat! But the families... the families will know where to go... they'll know to swim. The mothers will look up through salt-stung eyes with the kids strapped to their back... and THEY WILL SEE THE LIGHT, MARKY MARK! Luke Bradley will be in the middle of the Sunset Strip, glowing like a beacon callin' them home! Luke Bradley will be burnin' bright like the sun with all the power of a thousand suns, calling them home to the largest back in the world, daddy! And when they dogpaddle their little hearts out, grabbing onto the largest arms in the world, clinging to my quads, hurling themselves to my chest... That's when it'll happen, Marky Mark. That's when it'll happen. [A pause. Total silence.] MS: That's when what'll happen? [Luke Bradley looks up with a grin.] LB: I'll lean down close... pat the kids on the head, shake the fathers' hands, and whisper to the mothers... "You're welcome." [And with that, he strikes a huge double bicep pose and slowly edges out of the picture, leaving a bewildered Mark Stegglet behind.] MS: Um... back to you, Jason? [We cut back to ringside where a wide-eyed Jason Dane is seated.] JD: Wow. [Silence.] JD: Just... wow. [Jason grabs at his headset, obviously getting his ass chewed.] JD: Fans, coming up next, we will see just what former bodybuilder Curt- I'm sorry, Luke Bradley... can do inside a wrestling ring. Up to you, Melissa! [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing looking nervous at a large masked man circling around her.] MC: The following contest is set for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first... he hails from Parts Unknown... weighing in at 320 pounds... THE BLACK SHADOW! [The burly masked man raises a beefy arm in the air to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... [The sounds of Kiss' "Rock And Roll All Nite" starts up to a decent reaction.] MC: He hails from Huntington Beach, California... standing 6'8 and weighing in at 302 pounds... LUUUUUUUUUUKE BRADLEY!!! [The genetic freak now known Luke Bradley bursts through the curtain like a giant ball of energy. He's pointing to the fans, pumping his arms, waving at the ring... pretty much anything you can imagine to get the crowd fired up.] JD: What a physical specimen this guy is and- [Dane is interrupted by the rustle of someone sitting down next to him and "suiting up" with a headset.] JD: What are you doing here? No one even told me you worked here! I thought you were working in the porn industry now! [The silky sweet sounds of Bill Masterson's voice interrupts.] BM: Porn?! I would _never_ sully myself with that kind of filth. Besides, what could be more important than witnessing firsthand the debut of the future of our sport, Jason Dane? JD: This guy? BM: Certainly! He's ripped, he's built, he's charismatic... the people will love him! JD: He's a former bodybuilder, Bill. How's he going to make the transfer to wrestling? BM: He's got a very good support system in place. A very good advisor to show him the ropes, so to speak. JD: Oh, and I wonder who that might be. BM: Well, I'm not really at liberty to discuss it at the moment. JD: I bet. [The muscleman slides in under the bottom rope, ripping off his duster and hurling it to the crowd as he points his muscled arm at the Black Shadow.] JD: Well, he's certainly enthusiastic. I'll give him that. BM: I'd like to give him more than that. JD: Excuse me? BM: I said he's going to give the business all he's got, Jason. Isn't he something else? JD: I suppose. Melissa Cannon is out of the ring now and there's the bell! [Luke Bradley wastes no time and shows no fear in rampaging across the ring with his arm outstretched.] JD: Running clothesli- no! The Black Shadow sidestepped the clothesline and hurled Bradley chestfirst into the corner. A good counter by the masked man from Parts Unknown. BM: If he knew where he was from before, he wouldn't know after Luke Bradley gets done with him! [The Shadow buries a few left hands into Bradley's well-developed abdomen after the sidestep.] JD: Bradley getting worked over in the buckles... a choke by the Shadow! BM: That's a blatant choke! DQ, ref! DQ! JD: That hardly seems appropriate. The referee gets some latitude still, right? BM: That was a blatant violation of the rules, Dane. It will not be tolerated here in Pro Wrestling Revolution... especially in Luke Bradley's matches! JD: I don't think you're in any position to make that call. Does Todd even know you're here? [Grabbing Bradley by the arm, the Shadow fires him across the ring... ...but the powerful man from Southern California reverses the whip, sending the Black Shadow into the corner with great velocity!] JD: OHHH! Hard to the buckles! [And as the masked man staggers out, Bradley hoists the 300 plus pounder high into the air... ...and slams him down with a massive thud!] BM: Big bodyslam by Luke Bradley! Look at the power! The impact! The technique! JD: Technique? It was a bodyslam, not a 450 splash. BM: Bah! You keep your flip-flopping luchadors, Jason. This man is a raw, hard talent. JD: A.. a what? BM: Just look at him in there, Jason. Doesn't it make you excited in every way possible to see such an athlete? JD: In every way? [With the Black Shadow down, Bradley looks around a bit confused.] JD: He doesn't seem to know what to do, Bill. Did he exhaust all the moves he knows? BM: No, no... he's been taught more than that. I know he's proficient at the rear waistlock... the bearhug. He's also been working on a tombstone piledriver. JD: Really? BM: Well, just the positioning for it. Not really the piledriver yet. [Bradley reaches down to pull the Black Shadow up by the mask... ...and gets a thumb to the eye for his trouble.] BM: More rulebreaking! Well, I'm going to put a stop to this! [With a "THUNK!" the headset falls and Bill Masterson can be seen waddling towards the ring, shouting at the referee who immediately becomes a bit distracted by him.] JD: Bill Masterson is trying to tell our official how to do his job and- [POP!] JD: THE BLACK SHADOW'S GOT MASTERSON BY THE COLLAR!! [The referee stumbles backwards, having been caught in between the two big bodies for a moment. The Black Shadow backs off, checking on the official, then turns back to Masterson... ...who drills the Black Shadow in the temple with a collapsible metal club!] JD: What the-?! [The Shadow staggers back from the blow, right into the waiting arms of an oblivious Luke Bradley who powers the Shadow up onto his shoulder... ...and plants him on the mat with a running powerslam!] JD: Huuuge powerslam by Bradley! One! Two! Three! [DING DING DING] MC: Here is your winner... LUUUUUUKE BRADLEY! [The massive Bradley looks stunned as his arm is raised in victory, smiling at the announcement even though the crowd is booing heavily. Bill Masterson has stepped off the ring apron and now is at ringside, clapping wildly as he shoves the metal club back into an apparently deep pocket in his slacks.] JD: Bill Masterson just interfered in this match... and I'll be damned if I don't even think Bradley realizes it! He hit the powerslam to get the win... but the Shadow was out on his feet thanks to that metal club before that even came close to happening! This is ridiculous! Luke Bradley with a victory in his debut... a tainted victory... but a victory nonetheless and he's got Bill Masterson to thank for it! Let's go back to Mark Stegglet. [We cut back to the hallway where Mark Stegglet seems to have positioned himself for the night.] MS: Looks like I got scooped on that one, JD. Bill Masterson _here_ in PWR?! Unbelievable! I'll try to get some comments from him here in a little while. In the meantime, I did just get the news that- wait! Mr. Michaelson! [The camera quickly pans to Todd Michaelson who is walking by talking to someone on his cell phone.] TM[to the phone]: No... I told you that everything is fine. How did you even- Did Jason call you? [Michaelson grimaces.] TM: I've got it under control. Yeah... yeah... I'll call you when it's over. I've gotta go. Interview time. [Michaelson clicks his phone shut and looks at Mark Stegglet with an annoyed look on his face.] MS: Mr. Michaelson, I just wanted to get some comments from you on- TM: I really don't have time for this. I've got to get ready for my match. MS: But what about the appearance of Bill Master- TM: Seriously? You want to ask me about Masterson? I don't give a damn what Masterson's doing here as long as he stays out of my way. Next question. MS: They just announced Billy Kane vs Blue Tiger next month here in Reseda. Your thoughts? TM: Kane got jumped. He wanted a shot at the Tiger. We made the match. Really complicated stuff here, Mark. [Michaelson shoves his way past Stegglet and walks down the hall.] MS: A very focused Todd Michaelson starting to prepare for his match. And now, back to you, Jason! [We cut back to ringside where Jason Dane is seated.] JD: Fans, I understand that I'm about to be joined by another person trying out for the color commentator gig. [After a moment, someone sits down at the table next to Dane.] JD: Bucky Wilde, welcome to Pro Wrestling Revolution! [With a mic in one hand and a glitter covered briefcase in the other, this man is paunchy to say the least. He's got a decent sized gut pushing at the buttons on his lime green dress shirt underneath an eye-burning yellow jacket. His black hair is tousled in all directions like he hasn't run a comb through it in his life. His teeth appeared to have been whitened recently... perhaps several times even as he flashes a huge smile. He's in his late 30's... he's former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.] BW: Thank ya, thank ya... the honor and pleasure is all yours, daddy! JD: It has been an exciting night here in Reseda, Bucky. We've seen a huge match set up for later tonight between Kolya Sudakov, a man you saw down in Southern Championship Wrestling while working there, and Todd Michaelson, the owner of this company. We saw Blue Tiger from Tiger Paw Pro in Japan best newcomer Jimmy Wii and get into an altercation with Billy Kane to boot. We saw- BW: Lawd have mercy, Jason! Do ya never get done yappin'. Ya know that listenin' to you is as excitin' as Scrabble night at my mama's house? These people don' wan' nothin' to do with that! They's here to see the brightest shinin' star in the California sky! They's here to see the man who makes hearts break, booties quake, muffins bake, and marriages shake. And you know who dat is? JD: You? BW: You got it, daddy. You got it. But 'nuff with the talk. Les'see what the boys here in P-Dubya-R can do. JD: Take it away, Melissa! [We cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and is a Trios Match! [Pretty decent amount of cheers.] MC: Introducing first... ["Into The Pit" by Fight starts up to a decent sized reaction from the Hispanic portion of the crowd.] MC: Representing PWR partner company SouthWest Lucha Libre... They are... SUUUUUPER SOOOOOOLARRRRR! [A mild reaction for the man in a full blue and orange bodysuit and mask as he pops into view.] MC: ELLLLLLL CALIENTE! [A little larger ovation for the Hot And Spicy Warrior as he does a front roll through the curtain, springing to his feet in a pair of long red tights and red mask with black hair sticking out a hole in the back.] MC: And the team captain... one of the most famed luchadors in the wrestling world... ELLLLL CORAZON NEEEEEGROOOOO! [The man known as ECN storms into view to a fairly large ovation. He's in his standard black mask with a red pentagram stitched across it. He's sporting black full-length tights, leaving his torso exposed to reveal the scars that years of hardcore matches all over the globe have left behind.] MC: Together, they are known as LOS GUERREROS DE INFIERNOOOOO! [A pretty decent reaction for the luchador trio as they climb onto the apron and slingshot into front rolls simultaneously.] MC: And their opponents... [The Heavy Metal sounds of Fight fade out and are replaced by Scary Kids Scaring Kids' "Snake Devil" which brings the energy level up a bit as the curtain flies apart revealing the second trio.] MC: They are... SHADOWSTAR! [On the right side stands Shadowstar clad in a full bodysuit in shades of black and gray. His mask has little spiky things on the sides of it.] MC: HIKAAARIMONOOOO! [The Japanese sensation takes the left spot in a pair of red and blue trunks and mask.] MC: And the team captain... EL HIIIIIJOOOOO DEL DIAAAAABLOOOO!! [An enormous cheer goes up for EHDD, obviously the most famed of the luchadors in this match.] JD: Listen to the reaction for El Hijo Del Diablo here at the Elks Lodge, Bucky! BW: Nutty as a fruitcake, JD. It's almost as loud as when I came out here, daddy. JD: It didn't really sound that loud when you- BW: I stunned 'em... stunned 'em all! They couldn't believe they were witnessing such greatness in person. JD: Right. That must have been it. Before this match gets started, let's check in with Mark Stegglet for a quick analysis of this one! Mark? [Picture in a picture greatness! Mark Stegglet is standing in the hallway reviewing notes as he looks up to the camera.] MS: Thanks, Jason and Bucky! This one should be a very fast-paced and exciting showdown. All six men are incredibly athletic and will really bring the goods here in PWR. These trios matches were a bit of a staple in PWR in the past so we're very happy to be able to bring this one to you tonight. Expect to see some high-flying the likes of which we rarely see in the United States. Also don't be surprised if you see a little animosity between the team from SouthWest Lucha Libre and El Hijo Del Diablo. He was a former employee of SWLL and many in that Mexico-based company still believe he abandoned them when he was needed the most. El Corazon Negro, also the owner of SWLL, had made a deal for a big tour of Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California when El Hijo Del Diablo gave his notice and left to train in Japan. The tour ended up a financial failure that was ultimately canceled after a few shows. Many still blame El Hijo Del Diablo for that disaster. Back to you, Jason and Bucky! [The picture with Mark Stegglet disappears leaving a full-screen shot of the ring where all six competitors have now gathered. There are a few quick words on both sides of the ring before we end up with two men in the squared circle... Super Solar and Shadowstar.] JD: Thanks, Mark! Some great background info on this one that I'm sure our fans at home appreciate. BW: You really think the mouthbreathers who pirated this off the Interweb didn't know all that already? JD: I'm sure it was news to some of them, Bucky. BW: Look around again, daddy. Most of them could do your job if theys mamas would let them out of the basement from time to time. JD: Ahem. With that in mind, we've got Super Solar and Shadowstar squaring off to start this one. [Referee Roberto Juarez quickly gestures for the opening bell.] JD: There's the bell and we're ready for some high-flying trios action here in Reseda! BW: I had some trios action once, daddy. JD: Best weekend of your life? BW: Whassthat? JD: Never mind. [The two luchadors tie up in a collar and elbow with Super Solar quickly spinning into a hammerlock.] JD: Rear hammerlock applied by Super Solar... Shadowstar feeling for a way out... [Reaching back, Shadowstar hooks the head, leaping into the air... ...and using the momentum to snap mare Super Solar down to the mat.] JD: Nice escape by Shadowstar! The fans enjoyed that! BW: The fans? What do the fans know, daddy? JD: The fans in Pro Wrestling Revolution are some of the most knowledgeable in the industry, Bucky. You said it yourself. BW: Just because they know where you were born and every sibling you've got in the business don't mean they know the difference between a wristlock and a wristwatch inside that ring, daddy-o! JD: This could be a long night. [Tying up once more, Shadowstar drops down to sweep Super Solar's legs out with an arm, diving across in a lateral press that doesn't even get a one count.] BW: Look at that. Just wasted energy, son... wasted energy. JD: Shadowstar _is_ just a rookie in this business. He is prone to making some mistakes, I'm sure. [Popping back to his feet, Super Solar throws a right hand that Shadowstar swiftly avoids, hooking the arm to take Super Solar down to the mat with an armdrag.] JD: The rookie showing some quickness in there, Bucky. BW: He's fast. I'll give him that. JD: Wow! Something nice to say? That's a first for you. BW: Don't push it, baby. Don't take no lip from an announcer, that's for damn sure. [Super Solar shoves off the mat and gets caught under the chin with a perfect standing dropkick that sends him sailing back to the corner where El Caliente gladly reaches in to make the exchange.] JD: Some cheers for El Caliente here in Los Angeles. He's one of the quickest rising lucha stars in the game. A lot of fans probably remember him from his previous stint in PWR as well. I had the pleasure of watching this kid in the old M-DOJO when he was just getting started and he's only gotten better since then. He's been selling out crowds all over Mexico. BW: Psssh. A girl with a donkey sells out shows in Mexico, Dane. JD: That's just a myth. There's no such thing as a Donkey Show. BW: Never seen your sister work weekends? JD: Hey! Back off my sister! [Shadowstar looks eager to exchange with El Caliente but El Hijo Del Diablo puts a stop to it, forcing the rookie to tag in Hikarimono.] JD: Shadowstar doesn't look too happy about having to tag out but he does what the team captain commands. BW: Don't be listenin' to the devil, daddy. You do what you gotta do out there! JD: I'm glad that all your years of experience working the indies in the South has given you so much insight. [Hikarimono quickly ties up with El Caliente, using his size advantage to push the luchador back into the ropes... and teeing off with an openhand slap across the bare chest.] "WOOOOOO!" JD: Oh my! Big chop by the Japanese sensation! [Grabbing El Caliente by the wrist, Hikarimono hurls him towards the far ropes.] JD: Whip by Hikarimono... El Caliente rebounds... [And baseball slides through the legs of a waiting Hikarimono, reaching up to yank the legs out from under him.] JD: Nice counter by El Caliente! [As Hikarimono pulls himself off the mat, El Caliente charges towards the ropes, leaping to the middle rope and springing back with a crossbody that he somehow turns into an armdrag in mid-air, taking Hikarimono down once again.] JD: Look at this kid go, Bucky! Even you have to be impressed! BW: I don't impress easy, daddy. JD: Hikarimono back to his feet and- [Big pop as El Caliente deadleaps into the air, snapping Hikarimono down to the mat with a rana.] JD: Nice rana by the luchador! He's got the Japanese Sensation reeling! BW: Hikarimono is backed against the ropes. That's not a good place to be. [El Caliente quickly charges his stunned opponent... who drops his head, backdropping El Caliente over the ropes... ...where the spry luchador lands on his feet on the apron.] JD: Backdrop countered! [A stiff forearm from El Caliente backs off Hikarimono and allows the luchador enough room to grab the top rope, springing off... ...and snaring Hikarimono in another rana, one that sends him sailing into his own corner where El Hijo Del Diablo is quick to tag himself into the fray. Huge pop!] JD: Here comes the team captain! El Hijo Del Diablo is in... [Pop!] JD: And El Corazon Negro just tagged himself in! We've got both Trios team captains in the match! [The owner of SouthWest Lucha Libre wastes no time in walking straight to the center of the ring, bumping chests with his opponent as he stares dead into his eyes.] JD: Uh oh. Mark Stegglet, intrepid reporter, told us that there was an issue here. BW: Intrepid reporter? Is Ryan Howard coming back? JD: In this company? Who knows? I wouldn't be surprised to see Squish Squash main eventing the next show against the team of the Blind Guardian and Kuyler Greyson. BW: Now _that_ I'd buy a ticket to. JD: Seriously, Bucky... I mean, who wouldn't want to work for a wrestling company where you get to come out to sunny Los Angeles and work a match? Plus, with Todd's connections and past relationships? I expect we may see some names we haven't seen in five years or so at least in this place. On that note, if anyone can track down "The Real Deal" Luke Steele for me, I got drinks for the night. BW: What the hell? You goin' gay on me? JD: As part of my deal for signing on here, I'm doing a series of shoot interviews for online release. Always wanted to try to figure out how the hell he stayed employed for so long. BW: You a cold blooded so and so, my friend. JD: You don't hang around Todd Michaelson for five years and learn nothing. BW: Amen, daddy... amen. [Okay, so where were we? Oh yeah... El Hijo Del Diablo and El Corazon Negro are staring one another down, talking trash, yadda yadda yadda... alright, we're caught up... annnnnnnd... go!] JD: Oh! Big right hand by El Hijo Del Diablo! He's had enough! BW: The Debil don't take no lip from no one. You can only take so much before you gotsta give some back. JD: Another right! And a third backs the original Hardcore Luchador into the ropes... [El Hijo Del Diablo hooks the wrist, firing off El Corazon Negro...] JD: Big whip... ECN off the far side... boot to the gut... [And with a handful of tights, El Hijo Del Diablo hurls his former mentor under the ropes, causing him to crash down on the pad-less concrete with a thud!] JD: Ohhh my! Down goes the founder of SWLL! [El Hijo Del Diablo quickly sprints across the ring as El Corazon Negro regains his feet, dropping into a headfirst dive between the top and middle ropes... ...and connecting with a crushing tope that sends both men crashing into the rapidly-emptying plastic chairs as the fans scatter.] JD: OHHHHHHH MY!!! WHAT A DIVE!!! [The crowd roars with approval as the two luchadors remain motionless on the floor. Seeing the captains out of action, Shadowstar and El Caliente charge back into the ring, quickly trading chops until El Caliente gets the better of the exchange, backing Shadowstar into the corner where he launches into a series of snap kicks to the ribs... ...before capping it off with a leaping spinning back kick to the ribcage!] JD: Ooof! Right to the ribcage! [El Caliente grabs the injured Shadowstar, setting him up on the top rope before backing away to the opposite corner.] JD: El Caliente's got him up top... maybe setting up for the Hot And Spicy Rana! [He pauses one more and then takes off across the ring at a full sprint... ...which makes it even more impressive when Shadowstar hurls himself off the ropes, hooking a front facelock, spinning through the air and _spiking_ El Caliente skullfirst into the canvas with a tornado DDT!] JD: OHHHHHHH! BW: Okay, okay... _that_ was impressive. JD: Shadowstar just _spiked_ the luchador into the canvas! Headfirst! He should go for a cover here! [But before he can attempt to do so, Super Solar charges into the ring, shoving aside the referee as he yanks Shadowstar up to his feet and pops him with a spinning back elbow that puts the rookie against the ropes.] JD: Shadowstar gets pushed back into the ropes... where is Super Solar going? [Charging to the far ropes, Super Solar rebounds back in a baseball slide between Shadowstar's legs and out to the floor where he quickly grabs Shadowstar by the ankles... ...but not quick enough as Hikarimono repeats Super Solar's motion and drives both feet squarely into his face, knocking the luchador back towards the fans in the front row!] JD: It's getting crazy out here, Bucky! [Hikarimono and Shadowstar both stand on the apron for a moment, waiting for Super Solar to recover... ...and in unison, leap to the middle rope, springing back with dual Asai Moonsaults onto a dazed Super Solar!] JD: AAAAAAAAAAAY DIOOOOS MIOOOOOOO!!! [The crowd roars for the action, cheering on Hikarimono and Shadowstar as they climb back up on the apron.] JD: Back on the apron... El Caliente is starting to get back to his feet now... [And as he does, Shadowstar springs off the top rope, connecting with a somersault senton that takes the popular luchador back down to the mat.] JD: Back down goes El Caliente! And Hikarimono is telling Shadowstar to position him for- [Seizing his moment, El Corazon Negro yanks Hikarimono down off the apron and uses his mask to hurl him so the back of his head and neck slam into the chairs! The crowd boos the brutal assault... ...but quickly roars back to life as El Hijo Del Diablo spear tackles the Hardcore Luchador down to the concrete and begins pummeling him with clenched fists.] JD: We've got a fight on the outside! Inside the ring, Shadowstar has pulled El Caliente into the corner, setting him up top now... [Shadowstar backs away to the opposite corner, pointing at El Caliente.] JD: What is- is he going for the Hot And Spicy Rana?! What an insult this would be to El Caliente! What a- he charges! [The youthful rookie sprints across the ring at top speed, preparing to leap onto the ropes... ...but El Caliente returns the favor from earlier in the match, breaking the rookie's stride with a leaping dropkick to the jaw from the middle rope to lay him out! Huge pop!] JD: The crowd can't decide who they want to cheer for, Darryl. We've heard cheers for just about everyone in this match! Just about every- [The crowd begins to buzz with confusion as two men in uniforms sprint from a rear door to the building, sliding under the ropes into the ring... ...where one of the men promptly drives a nightstick into the throat of a surprised El Caliente! Shocked pop!] JD: OHHHH! What the-?! BW: Who called the pigs? JD: Those guys aren't police... at least, I don't think they are! [Nightstick still in hand, several well placed shots to the ribcage are driven home on El Caliente. The second uniformed man grabs a dazed Shadowstar by the back of the tights, dragging him up to his feet... ...where he is greeted with a nightstick shot to the ribcage, putting him back down on the mat.] JD: A brutal shot with that... with that weapon in there! What the hell is going on here? [The first man gestures for a mic and quickly receives one from the timekeeper.] ???: Citizens of Los Angeles... do not fear! We are here for your protection! [More boos from the Reseda crowd.] ???: My name is Officer Harold Rodimer Colton. My partner here is Ira Nelson Sanders. And we are the Border Patrol! [The boos grow a little more intense... especially considering the ethnic makeup of the crowd.] HRC: We received a tip that there were some individuals in this building tonight who did not have the appropriate paperwork to be working in our country... so we are here to check it out. Ira, check that guy out. [The black haired Ira Nelson Sanders quickly does a fake patdown of Shadowstar, shrugging his shoulders as he finishes.] HRC: It's just as we suspected, citizens. That man does not have a green card with him. He does not have a work visa! [The boos grow louder... a few empty water bottles start to litter the ring now.] HRC: I don't- citizens, please. We are here to ensure the safety of everyone in this building. Do you not understand how dangerous illegal immigration is to the wellbeing of our nation? [Colton looks annoyed at the booing crowd.] HRC: Citizens, these men are here illegally... and they are taking the jobs of good, clean, hard-working _Americans_ who deserve to be competing in this ring for your entertainment. They are- [A slightly-less-than-empty water bottle splashes on the uniformed chest of Harold Rodimer Colton who looks fit to be tied.] HRC: I see. Officer Sanders... I think our lesson here is not finished. [A quick nod of the head sends Sanders out to the floor where he yanks the dazed Super Solar off the concrete, hurling him under the ropes. A few night stick shots on El Corazon Negro and El Hijo Del Diablo serve to keep them out of the Border Patrol's way.] HRC: Let's see if this clears things up for you all. [Colton spikes the mic down to the mat as he pulls Super Solar off the mat, applying a low bearhug and leaning over as Sanders quickly scales the ropes, looking out at the jeering crowd... ...and hurls himself off the top rope, sailing through the air before smashing his leg down across Super Solar's throat!] JD: OHHHHHHH! Did you see that, Bucky?! [Colton and Sanders stand over Super Solar's unconscious form as Colton retrieves the mic.] HRC: Another victim falls... to the Deportation. [The roaring crowd jeers every word, every movement, every action that the Border Patrol takes.] HRC: I'd make examples out of the rest too but fittingly, they've done a good job of wiping each other out already. [Colton smirks. Hikarimono starts to climb into the ring. Sanders looks to move towards him but Colton waves him off.] HRC: No, no... he's Japanese. Don't worry about him. We've taken care of business here tonight. And to any of you south of the border out there who are thinking you should be in Pro Wrestling Revolution... just remember, we're watching you. And the border ends at the door to this building. [More boos.] HRC: Citizens, you are once again safe. Carry on with your day. Enjoy the privileges of living in America. Live your lives because if you don't? The terrorists win. Ira? [Ira Nelson Sanders takes the mic, looks around at the jeering crowd, and speaks.] INS: Honor first. [And with that, Sanders drops the mic and the two uniformed men make their way out of the ring. They walk past a barely moving El Hijo Del Diablo before making their way back up into the crowd.] JD: I don't know what the hell that was all about, Bucky, but we've got luchadors laid out all over the place! BW: Those guys mean some serious business, Dane. They came, they saw, and they laid out luchador ass. JD: Bucky! BW: I'm too raw to be cooked, daddy! JD: What the hell does that mean? Fans, we need to get some help out here for our luchadors. Let's go back to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet is trying to get some more words from the owner of this company. [We cut back to the hallway outside the locker room marked "MICHAELSON" on it. Mark Stegglet is in front of the door.] MS: Thanks, Jason. What in the world is going on here tonight? There's no code of honor on display here in Los Angeles... that's for sure. Fans, coming up nex- [Stegglet abruptly gets pushed aside by someone walking with purpose towards the door marked "MICHAELSON." He raises a hand to knock when Stegglet interrupts.] MS: Hey! What do you think you're doing? [The fist pauses in mid-air but the individual wielding it doesn't turn around.] MS: I don't know who you are or what you're doing here but Todd Michaelson has a big match and can't be bothered by the likes of- [The person spins around to face Mark Stegglet. He looks... sorta intimidating. A loop of barbed wire is hanging around his neck, resting on a ripped and torn black t-shirt that reads "JISATSU" in red scriptyness. His straggly black hair obscures most of his face but he looks somewhat familiar to most viewers... including Mark Stegglet.] MS: Wait a second. I think I recognize- [Stegglet leans forward squinting.] MS: Is that- Man-? [The individual holds up an open hand and replies in a hoarse whisper.] ??: My name is Jack Kain... and I am the King of All Hardcore Extreme Ultraviolence. [Mark Stegglet looks baffled.] MS: King of All Hardcore Extreme Ultraviolence? That doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, you know? [The stringy-haired King pauses, tilting his head to the side.] JK: Hrrmph. Okay... I am the Master Of The Hardcore Extreme Realm. [Stegglet looks pensive.] MS: That... umm... that makes you M.O.T.H.E.R. [A snap of the fingers by Jack Kain.] JK: That's right! Because I am one HARD... CORE... MOTHER... FU- MS: HEY! This is a family show! JK: But I'm just talkin' 'bout Jack. MS: Then I can dig- wait, no! I don't know who you are! But you look just like Ma- [The hand!] JK: Halt your utterances of foolishness. MS: My... my what? JK: Cease your impulsive exclamations of retardation. MS: Did you just call me a ret- JK: Belay that! MS: What is going on- [Suddenly, the locker room door they're arguing in front of swings open to reveal Todd Michaelson who looks fairly irritated.] TM: What the hell is all the noise out here?! I'm trying to get ready for- [Speaking of noise, a sea of luchadors suddenly pour into view in various states of injury, all shouting in Spanish at one another and at Mark Stegglet and at Todd Michaelson who looks on with shock.] TM: Wait! Wait! Can somebody trans- [El Corazon Negro shoves Mark Stegglet aside to get right in front of Michaelson.] ECN: Todd, mi amigo. We have a problem. TM: I appreciate that, man, but I've got a match to get ready for. Can we do this lat- ECN: You don't get it! I'm talking now! You listen now! [Michaelson looks a bit surprised but shrugs his shoulders, apparently giving in.] ECN: In case you didn't notice, six men just got in the ring with the intent of busting their asses for you... for your company... for your fans. [Michaelson nods... so does Mark Stegglet... Jack Kain is looking on with interest too. A captive audience!] ECN: And as payback, we got jumped by two gringos wanting to ship us back to Mexico. [The PWR owner cringes.] TM: Look, I had nothing to do with that. Those guys were supposed to be known as something else completely. I have no idea where this Border Patrol crap came from. You know that I- [El Corazon Negro raises a hand.] ECN: I'm not blaming you... none of us are. But we want some payback now. I know you're planning on another show for next month... well, I'm putting my name on a contract to face those two putos here next month! [Michaelson nods.] TM: You got it, man, of course. Next month, right here in Reseda, it'll be the Border Patrol against El Corazon Negro and... [Michaelson looks around.] TM: Well, obviously you need a partner but... well, they all want in. [A chorus of nods from all around.] TM: I've got a solution. The start of next month's show will have a five-way match. These five guys going at it and the man who scores the first pin or submission will be your partner later in the night against the Border Patrol! You've heard of a Triangle Match... well, this is a Pentagon match! [More nods of acceptance all around.] ECN: Good decision, mi amigo. Gracias. [And with a sea of luchadors departing, Michaelson's eyes come to rest on M.O.T.H.E.R., Jack Kain.] TM: Wait a second. Jack, is that yo- JK: It is I, Jack Kain! TM: Jack Kai- huh? JK: I have come to Pro Wrestling Revolution to bring... THE... VIOLENCE! [Michaelson looks around.] TM: Who are you shouting at? JK: I need my message to be loud... to be clear... to be heard. PWR is in need of a... HARDCORE... REVOLUTION! TM: Dude, please... stop shouting. JK: ULTRAVIOLENCE! TM: Jack, I... JK: EXTREME! TM: PWR doesn't do extre- JK: PLEASE! TODD, PLEASE! TM: Are you beggi- JK: TOOOOOODD, PLEASE LET ME DO HARDCORE!!! TM: I don't under- JK: I CAN'T GET A JOB ANYWHERE ELSE! YOU'RE MY LAST CHANCE! PLEEEEEEEEEASE! TM: But we don't do hardco- JK: PLEEEEEEEEEEASE! PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE! PLEEEEEEEEEEASE! TM: Okay! Stop! [Jack Kain settles down, his stringy hair back in place over his face.] JK: Todd Michaelson, you will not regret this. I have scoured the world to bring the most hardcore competition to Pro Wrestling Revolution to give me a true challenge. TM: Really? Are you sure that's a good idea? JK: Affirmative. You will not regret this. The match you're about to witness... it took place in a promotion called "Shot Callin' Rasslin' in the Sout- MS: WHAT?! Isn't that that place that only runs in bars?! They've got really weird matches, Mr. Michaelson! They've got- JK: Silence, mortal. [Huh?] JK: PWR is never going to be the same again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must aid Miss Cannon in introducing this match. I take my leave, gentlemen. [Jack Kain strides out of view through the curtain as Mark Stegglet and Todd Michaelson look on in shock.] TM: Hey, kid... that guy look familiar to you? MS: Yep. TM: Was it who I think it was? MS: Yep. TM: Crap. What did I just agree to? MS: Well... let's just say our idea of being a family friendly promotion might have just went up in smoke. [Michaelson nods.] TM: Remind me not to agree to fight crazed Russians next month so I can actually concentrate on the show. MS: Deal. [Michaelson shuts the door behind him as Mark Stegglet looks on with a dazed expression.] MS: Back to you, Jason. [We cut back to ringside where Jason Dane is seated alone.] JD: What in the world is going on here tonight? I've gotta admit that this night is not going as I had anticipated... nor as Todd Michaelson had planned apparently. We've had ex-bodybuilders debut with former executives... we've had tag teams sneak attack from outside the building... and now we're going hardcore? This is a very strange return for PWR indeed. And I don't even know what to expect out of this hardcore match. Hopefully Melissa can shed some light on it for us. Meliisa? [We cut back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing, looking on in shock as a ring attendant under Jack Kain's direction rushes down the aisle with a box of bottles of alcohol. Kain hands Melissa a stack of cards that she stares at blankly for a moment before reading off of them.] MC: The following contest is a... an ATF DEATH MATCH... an Alcohol, Thumbtacks, and Fire Death Match! [The crowd... roars? Even smart marks enjoy a good bloody brawl, I guess.] MC: Outside the ring, there are several bags containing thumbtacks. These bags are legal for use in this match. [Pop!] MC: Outside the ring is a table that has been soaked in lighter fluid. A box of matches are INSIDE one of the thumbtack bags! This table is legal for use in this match. [BIGGER POP!] MC: And finally, in both corners, we have several bottles of alcohol. The rules regarding these bottles are... odd? For every failed pin attempt, the person who attempted the pin must take a drink from their bottle. For every failed submission attempt, the person who attempted the submission must take a drink from their bottle. And finally, the promoter of this match, Jack Kain, has been mic'd for this match as our special color commentator. He is also serving as the BOOZE MASTER for this match. If he calls for a drink, the competitors must drink! If he orders one competitor to drink and not the other, that competitor must drink! And if he choose to drink himself, both men must drink until Mr. Kain has stopped drinking! [At this point, Jack Kain seizes the mic.] JK: Enough of your irrelevant utterances, Miss Cannon. Let us indulge in the pits of sin and depravity. [Confusion reigns!] MC: The winner will be the man to score a pinfall, submission, or not to pass out! Introducing first... ["Maniac In Black" by Mr. Criminal kicks the PA.] MC: From Los Angeles, California... standing 6'1 and weighing in at 235 pounds... "MANIAC" MOOOOOORGAN DAAAAAAANE! [The wildman from Los Angeles storms through the curtain in a pair of blue jeans. His wild unkept beard is being somewhat held neatly by a rubber band as is his rapidly thinning hair on his head. Oh, and he's not wearing shoes. He screams at a ringside fan, kicking over a steel chair with his shoeless foot.] JD: This guy is a force to be reckoned with, Jack Kain. I've seen some tapes of him- JK: Tapes? Isn't he your- JD: One of my favorite wrestlers, yes! His battle with "Crazy" Gordon Gasher in Southern Ultraviolence Promotions inside a steel cage was a hot seller on Psycho Driver Video for months. JK: Your blatant shilling of your own wresting video website is insufferable and will not be tolerated during my masterpiece, Mr. Dane. JD: Yes sir. Just trying to give a little background. Morgan Dane rolls under the ropes into the ring... you can see numerous scars all over his head, his chest, his legs. This guy has been through some wars. JK: I respect men.. warriors like this man, Mr. Dane. Some competitors enter this industry to be a World Champion... to attract the faceless whores who frequent the locker rooms, to earn the financial swelling of the pocketbooks, to douse themselves in some kind of warped self-vision of glory. But a beast like Morgan Dane only wants to fight... to hurt... to bleed. For a man like him, it's either the wrestling ring or a life imprisoned. JD: He definitely likes to hurt people... he likes to make people bleed... and really, in some cases, that's all you need. [Dane leans in the corner, waving for Melissa to "do her thing."] MC: And his opponent... [Willie Nelson's "I Gotta Get Drunk" starts up to a mild reaction.] MC: Hailing from Lynchburg, Tennessee... standing 5'11 and weighing in at 260 pounds... THE DRUNKEN BASTARD! [BIG POP for the name! A few moments pass before a badly unkept man bursts into view. The most obvious feature on The Drunken Bastard is a nutty lookin' beer gut underneath a fairly skin-tight shit brown Jack Daniels t-shirt. He's wearing sweat pants to go with the shirt and could likely have just rolled out of a sixteen-hour hangover sleep to walk out to the ring. Oh, and he's chugging a bottle of Corona on his way to the ring.] JD: The competitor known as The Drunken Bastard is drinking already, Jack Kain! That doesn't seem wise. JK: Your doubt of his pre-match rituals is amusing, Mr. Dane. He obviously is warming up... stretching, if you can wrap your brain around the notion that true warriors stretch to prepare for the art of competition. JD: What's he stretching? His liver? [After chugging the rest of the bottle, the Drunken Bastard tosses it aside and rolls under the ropes where Morgan Dane is waiting, throwing the official aside and dropping a sloppy elbow on the Drunken Bastard.] JD: The Drunken Bast- do I have to call him that? Doesn't he have a name? JK: Oddly, no. When I competed on the same show as he in the South, I made the same query and no one had the knowledge of his true identity. They informed me of tales like "The drunken bastard smashed three steel chairs over his own head." or "The drunken bastard jumped off a Ryder truck on the concrete last night." The tales of true legend. I look forward to doing battle with him inside the PWR rings. [Taking what somewhat resembles the mount position, Dane slams a few meathooks into the side of the Drunken Bastard's skull before pulling off, falling back against the ropes.] JD: Dane leaning against the ropes... I guess he's measuring him... [And as the Drunken Bastard pushes himself up to a knee, Dane stumbles away from the ropes and drives his own forehead into the temple of his opponent!] JD: Ohhh! Running headbutt! JK: Very few choose to use their own skull as a weapon like this man does. JD: He certainly does seem to enjoy it. [Dragging the Drunken Bastard off the mat, Morgan Dane sloppily applies a side headlock to drag him across the ring towards the corner. But as he throws DB to the corner and winds up, the referee steps in, shaking his head.] JD: What's going on here? JK: The referee was given some special instructions for this contest as well, Mr. Dane. I made sure he was aware of my understanding of the rules and regulations. JD: He's telling Melissa something... I can't quite- [Melissa Cannon makes an announcement over the PA.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled that the side headlock applied by Morgan Dane is technically a submission hold. And seeing as the Drunken Bastard did not submit, Morgan Dane must now... DRINK! [The crowd roars to life and slowly but surely we get a chant...] "DRINK!" "DRINK!" "DRINK!" "DRINK!" [Morgan Dane looks around at the crowd and cracks a grin as he grabs a bottle of Jose Cuervo out of the corner, pops the top, and throws it back for a couple seconds. HUGE POP!] JD: Uh oh. Our first drink of the match and Morgan Dane has busted open the tequila. JK: True genius comes in the form of the enlivenment of the liver. JD: We shall see. If this match goes too long, it may get ugly... and sloppy... out here. [Dane puts the bottle back down in the corner... ...and gets bumrushed by the Drunken Bastard who charges into the buckles, smashing into Dane's back and immediately flailing away with rights and lefts at the exposed backside.] JD: We've got a wildman in there! JK: The man does not possess what you would call... technique. He throws haymakers... he swings chairs... he drinks. As the dregs of the marketing world would utter, "Rinse and repeat." JD: He's overwhelming Dane in the corner with wild rights and lefts... ohhh! He's biting him! He's biting him! [The crowd roars as the Drunken Bastard sinks his teeth into the nose of Morgan Dane who cries out in pain before driving the palm of his hand into the ribs of ol' DB.] JD: Bastard stumbles off and- [Dane stampedes out of the corner, connecting with a big lariat that sends a loud "SMACK!" throughout the building before taking both men down to the mat.] JD: Both men are down after that one. Dane might be feeling the effects of the alcohol as he looks a little staggered, trying to get back to his feet. JK: I beg to differ, Mr. Dane. These men will not show the effects of alcohol after one drink. Now, if you'll excuse me. JD: What are you- [And with that, Jack Kain's voice fills the Elks Lodge.] JK: Morgan Dane will now... DRINK! [The camera catches a glimpse of a grinning Jack Kain before his mic cuts out. Dane crawls away from Drunken Bastard to his own corner where he quickly tips back the bottle of Cuervo again, knocking back another shot. HUGE POP!] JD: Two shots of tequila for Morgan Dane! The Maniac is sitting in the corner, leaning against the buckles. This is nuts! I've never seen anything like this in my life! JK: I wager that when the Drunken Bastard is able to show his true fighting spirit, you will really feel that to be true. [The Drunken Bastard pulls himself to his feet, rubbing his jaw in pain as he glares at the still-seated Morgan Dane... ...and charges towards him, driving his knee into the chin of the unmoving Dane!] JD: OHHHHH! That could bust a jaw easily! JK: And despite the complaints of one Mark Stegglet, it sounds like our paying audience is enamored with this battle of true warriors. JD: They definitely seem to be enjoying this one. [Smiling like an idiot, the Drunken Bastard pulls his opponent off the mat... ...and hurls him through the ropes and out to the concrete floor.] JD: Uh oh. They're coming out here now. JK: Rest easy, Mr. Dane. I have brought you a special weapon for this contest if they are to jostle you. My lovely assistant for this match, Sunshine, has set it under your desk. JD: Sunshine? Under the desk? JK: Rest your filthy mind. She is no longer there. [Out on the floor, the Drunken Bastard grabs Dane by the thinning hair... ...and _slams_ him headfirst into the steel ringpost!] JD: Dear god! JK: No weak whip to the post... solid head to steel contact. The type designed to split skulls open. [Ol' DB pulls him away from the post, peppering clenched fists into the forehead of his opponent... ...and then spins him around, slamming him headfirst into the ringsteps!] JD: He certainly seems to be trying to split his head open, Mr. Kain. He may have heard you. [With Dane hanging onto the steel ringsteps to stay on his feet, the Drunken Bastard spins away and reaches into the crowd, pulling out an offered steel chair. He holds it high in the air to a big cheer.] JD: It sounds like the Drunken Bastard is becoming a big favorite here in the Elks Lodge, Jack. JK: I had little doubt that he would. [The unkept brawler raises the chair high, rearing way back... ...and bringing it rapidly down.] "CLANG!" JD: He missed! Morgan Dane moved aside just in time! [The Drunken Bastard recoils from the missed chair shot, clutching his hands in pain... ...and Morgan Dane seizes the moment to grab him by his unkept hair, _hurling_ him down so the back of his head meets the steel ringsteps!] "OHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: That'll split the back of your head open in a hurry. [Morgan Dane shoves aside a cameraman, moving to step up on the steel steps as he drives fist after fist into the face of the Drunken Bastard.] JD: Good grief, Mr. Kain! Those punches are brutal! JK: You will find that Morgan Dane is one of the hardest strikers in our business, young Jason. He will draw blood with a right hand with relative ease. JD: He's pulling the Drunken Bastard off the floor... and with the exception of that one beer, the Bastard hasn't had to drink anything yet. JK: Good point. Let's change that. [And again, Jack Kain's voice fills the air.] JK: The Drunken Bastard will... DRINK! [Dane is forced back by the official who quickly grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels out of ol' DB's corner and hands it to him. Somehow, the Drunken One manages to toss it back, knocking down a shot of Jack Daniels before tossing the bottle aside.] JD: We've got Dane with two shots of tequila in him and ol' DB with a shot of bourbon. This is gettin' nutty. [With the Drunken Bastard fresh off his shot, Morgan Dane smirks as he buries his barefoot into the midsection of his opponent.] JD: Oh god. He's gonna hurl! [The Drunken Bastard definitely turns a shade of green for a moment... ...but somehow manages to straighten up, now looking pissed off.] JK: Thou shalt not mess with another man's alcohol. JD: That's always been my rule. [Dane goes to throw another right hand but it gets stopped short by the Drunken Bastard who lashes out with a right jab... ...and another ...and another ...and another ...and another.] JD: A series of jabs by the Drunken Bastard and- [Reaching back behind him, he grabs a bag of thumbtacks, winds up... ...and smashes the bag across the face of Morgan Dane, knocking him off his feet.] JD: He's got him down... what's he- oh no. [The crowd roars to life as the Drunken Bastard pours the contents of the bag of thumbtacks onto Dane's prone form.] JD: Thumbtacks! Thumbtacks being poured all over Morgan Dane! Oh my! JK: I am not sure I understand the strategy of this move. That doesn't really do any damage to- JD: What's he-?! [Grinning like an idiot, the Drunken Bastard quickly scales the steel steps, pumps his arms... ...and throws an odd little frog splash down onto the thumbtacks!] JD: FROG SPLASH OFF THE STEPS!! RIGHT ON THE TACKS!! JK: An excellent move. Most impressive. [The Drunken Bastard rolls off his opponent, revealing thumbtacks jammed into his torso through the Jack Daniels t-shirt.] JD: I think that may have done as much damage to- never mind. [The camera zooms in on Morgan Dane, revealing some nicely embedded tacks and the crimson starting to flow from his stomach and chest.] JD: We've got first blood in this one! JK: Thankfully, we are not contesting this contest under First Blood rules. But in honor of the crimson glory... [And the voice is heard once more over the PA.] JK: In honor of the first blood being spilled... BOTH MEN SHALL DRINK! [Kain retakes his seat as the referee quickly races to get two bottles of liquor.] JD: Oh man... he switched bottles. They're going to start mixing their alcohol now? JK: Hopefully this does not cause any type of projectile vomitation. JD: He's propping up the Drunken Bastard against the chairs... that sicko is laughing... [And he just tosses back his head, letting the referee pour a shot of vodka straight down his throat.] JD: Vodka! The Drunken Bastard's on a shot of bourbon and one of vodka! JK: And his warmup beverage of choice. Don't forget that. JD: Oh, lord... that beer. Ugh, he really is going to be sick. [With the Drunken Bastard leaning against the barricade, the Maniac is dragged to a seated position against the steel steps where he promptly snatches the bottle from the referee, knocking back his own shot of vodka.] JD: Two shots of tequila, one of vodka for Morgan Dane. And you've gotta think those are going to start showing some effects, Mr. Kain. [Dane grimaces as he pulls a few thumbtacks out of his stomach, tossing them aside as the Drunken Bastard continues to giggle.] JD: Who in their right mind would ever agree to this kind of match? JK: No one in their right mind would. That's why we go to the wrong side of the mind to engage in the darkness. JD: Did you spend the last few years hanging out with Darky Devil? [After a few more moments, Morgan Dane shoves himself off the floor, staggering over to the still-giggling Drunken Bastard... ...and promptly kicks him square in the face with the bare foot.] JD: Goodness. No regard for each other's bodies. JK: Eeeks... was that to the eye? JD: I think it- wait... did you say "Eeeks?" [A guess that soon proves to be true as the camera zooms in on a now very red eyesocket belonging to the Drunken Bastard.] JD: Jeez. Look at that. [But as the camera zooms closer, it gets blocked by a hard headbutt to the same spot from a stooping Morgan Dane.] JD: Oof! What a shot! [Dane yanks his foe off the mat by the hair, hurling him under the ropes into the ring... ...and then throwing the discarded chair into the ring as well. Big pop!] JD: Well, if you like a weapons-filled brawl, I think you might be about to get- ohhh! [As Dane climbed in and reached down, he caught an uppercut to the throat.] JD: The Drunken Bastard to his feet... and he's got the chair... no! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! [HUUUUUGE POP!] JD: OHHHHH MY! WHAT A SHOT TO THE HEAD!! JK: Dane didn't even get a hand up to partially block it! He took solid steel square to the skull, Jas- err... Mr. Dane! [The Maniac from Southern California staggers away from the blow, landing with his back against the ring ropes... ...but not falling to the mat.] JD: Are you serious?! He took a full-force steel chair to the head and didn't fall?! JK: I have brought you the most HARDCORE EXTREME ULTRAVIOLENT practicioners! JD: Why are you yelling? JK: PAY ATTENTION! [The Drunken Bastard giggles some more as he rears back again... ...and catches a bare footed kick to the gut, causing him to double up and drop the chair.] JD: Uh oh. Now Dane's got the chair! HE WINDS UP!!! [And swings the chair baseball bat style, driving it right into the top of the skull.] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: DOWN GOES THE BASTARD!! JK: My brain is impressed with the brutality of his brutalness. That man deserves a beverage. [Cue the voice interrupting the action.] JK: In honor of that wicked chairshot, Morgan Dane... WILL DRINK! [The referee retrieves a bottle for Morgan Dane who throws down the steel chair.] JD: That's a reward?! JK: You don't like a nice drink after a hard day's work? JD: AFTER! NOT DURING! JK: ...oops. [Dane wastes no time in knocking down a shot of vodka and shoving the bottle back to the official. He glares down at Jack Kain at the ringside announce table and yells loud enough for the whole arena to hear.] "WHAT ELSE YOU GOT, FUCKER?" [The crowd "ooooos" in response as the wild-eyed Maniac glares at an embarassed Jack Kain... ...who predictably has some more.] JK: Alright... prop that Bastard up, ref. I think _I'd_ like a drink now. [The crowd buzzes with anticipation as a scantily-clad Sunshine Stevens produces a bottle for the M.O.T.H.E.R. Morgan Dane grabs the bottle of vodka from the referee and the official moves to assist the Drunken Bastard with his own bottle.] JK: And now? Drink, you diseased piece of offal! [Jack Kain throws back his bottle and the other two follow suit. A chant quickly begins.] "CHUG!" "CHUG!" "CHUG!" "CHUG!" JD: It's a frat party come to life in the Elks Lodge! The so-called promoter of this fight is chugging that bottle and neither man in this match can stop until he does. This match is going to end shortly... there's no way these guys can continue after this, fans. [Kain finally finishes, spilling liquid all over himself as he pulls the bottle away. Morgan Dane pulls the bottle away, tossing it to the floor where it shatters. The Drunken Bastard has the bottle pulled away by the referee and stays lying in the corner, clutching his head in pain.] JK: This match isn't over... "Maniac." [Kain snorts with disdain as he uses Morgan Dane's nickname but seems a little short of breath as he does so.] JK: Get over there... and finish this. [Dane sneers at Jack Kain as he walks over to the barely-moving Drunken Bastard, driving a hard kick into the face that causes ol' DB to roll out to the floor. The Maniac staggers a bit as he steps through the ropes, dropping down to the concrete.] JD: Both men are back out here on the floor. This is a little too close for comfort for me. JK: Uhhrrrgh. JD: You okay, Mr. Kain? JK: Errrrrfgh. JD: Jack, you alright? JK: Greeffhhh. JD: I think my color man is done on commentary for this one. Good night, Jack. ES: Guh nygh. [A loud "THUNK!" is heard which is presumably Jack Kain removing his headset... or passing out.] JD: Dane pulls the Drunken Bastard off the floor... look out! [The fans scatter as Dane hurls the Drunken Bastard into the crowd!] JD: We're out of ringside! We're in the front row, baby! [Dane shakes his head a bit, seemingly trying to clear the cobwebs as he pushes aside a few chairs to follow... ...and gets a steel chair thrown at him in return.] JD: Oh! It didn't catch him flush but- ohhh! That one might have! [Morgan Dane staggers backwards, having had a steel chair hurled at high speed into his face... ...and a rampaging, stumbling Drunken Bastard connects with a sloppy crossbody that take both men back down on the concrete at ringside.] JD: Back near the ring... and that's a good thing for our fans, I think. [Drunken Bastard shoves himself off the floor, visibly staggering as he walks over to grab another bag of thumbtacks... ...that he spreads them out on the lighter fluid-soaked table!] JD: Uh oh. We've seen the Alcohol! We've seen the Thumbtacks! We may be about to see the Fire! [Ol' DB staggers back to a barely moving Dane, reaching down to pull him off the floor... ...and getting a hard uppercut to the throat, causing him to fall backwards and allowing Dane to blindly charge.] JD: Dane is charging his foe and- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: POWERSLAM!! POWERSLAM ON THE FLOOR!! It sounded like a piece of meat being thrown off a two-story building! What a sickening splat that made right out here in front of me. Get these guys away from me, referee! Neither one can barely stand... neither one is fit to be fighting right now. This is a horrific battle and someone could easily get badly hurt out here. [The Drunken Bastard rolls off his foe, lying on the floor as Dane's body convulses from the pain.] JD: We've got bodies all over the place. Dane is down, Bastard is down. Can we stop this match? [And suddenly, a voice rings out... higher than before. It's Sunshine, bitch.] SS: DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! JD: What the-?! Sunshine? SS: Hey, Jason! JD: What happened to Mr. Kain? SS: Oh, he passed out. But as his assistant for this match, I think he'd want me to carry on without him! JD: Uhhh. I think these guys have drank enough, Sunshine. SS: No, no, no! I want more! I WANT MORE! JD: Okay, okay. Who's drinking? SS: Ummm... make that Bastard guy drink. He's funny. JD: Alright. You heard her. [The referee shakes his head in disbelief as he rolls to the floor with a bottle of vodka, propping up the Drunken Bastard enough to pour a shot down his throat.] SS: More! JD: What? SS: Gimme more! [The ref stands stunned... and then pours another shot into the Drunken Bastard's gaping mouth.] JD: That's gotta be it. He can't answer a ten count, can he? Try it, ref! [Tossing the bottle aside, the referee starts a double ten count.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" [At the seven count, Morgan Dane somehow manages to roll onto his stomach.] "EIGHT" "NINE" [And just before the ten count comes down, both men manage to push themselves off the concrete floor.] JD: Are you kidding me?! Are you kidding me?! SS: Yay! JD: These guys are out of their minds! Just stay down and end it! [The two men stagger towards one another... ...and let the fists fly.] JD: Right hand by the Drunken Bastard! [Dane recoils from the shot, then fires off one of his own.] JD: Morgan Dane returns the favor! [And with the roaring crowd cheering them on, the two men stand toe-to-toe blasting one another with some of the stiffest punches ever seen... ...and somehow topple into Jason Dane's announce table.] JD: Ack! Get away! Get away! SS: JASON! JASON! JD: What, Sunshine? SS: The secret weapon! Use it! JD: Huh? SS: Under the desk! Mr. Kain said to use it if they bumped you! JD: No, I'm okay... seriously... SS: Use it. JD: Sunshine, I- SS: Use it! JD: Okay, fine. [The camera turns away from the brawling Dane and Bastard for a moment as Jason Dane dips under his announce table for the "secret weapon" and pulls out...] JD: ABSINTHE?! SS: Yay! Imported from Europe! JD: Sunshine, are you serious? SS: DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! [Jason Dane looks at the bottle, shrugs his shoulders, and tosses it into the air where a now-winning-the-slugfest Morgan Dane snatches it from the sky. He pops the top, looks around at the roaring crowd... ...and proceeds to chug away!] JD: AAAAABUUUUUNAAAAAAAI! SS: GREEN FAIRY! [After a bit, Morgan Dane stops drinking, flips the bottle to hold it by the neck... ...and _shatters_ it over the skull of the Drunken Bastard! DEAFENING POP!] JD: OHHHHHH MY!!! [Dane falls back against the ring apron, barely able to stand. The camera zooms in on the now-kneeling Drunken Bastard who has broken glass stuck to his forehead and a steady flow of crimson now pouring from his skull.] JD: He broke the bottle of Absinthe over the Drunken Bastard's head! That's gotta be it! That's gotta be- [Fighting the effects of the booze, Morgan Dane somehow manages to straighten himself up enough to drag both himself and the Drunken Bastard up onto the ring apron. He releases ol' DB as he grabs the final bag of thumbtacks, opens it up... ...and shoves it over the head of the Drunken Bastard!] JD: AAAAAAAGH! That's just sick! SS: Hehehe... this is so much fun, Jason! Can we do this every month? JD: Mercy mercy me. [With the bag hanging over Drunken Bastard's head and tacks falling all over the floor, Morgan Dane fires off a few more clenched fists into the bag-covered head, probably doing more damage with the tacks. After the punches, he yanks the bag off... ...revealing a horrific sight of the Drunken Bastard's face and head being used as a pin cushion.] JD: Oh my god. This is disgusting. I might be sick. SS: Didn't you work at some Extreme place? JD: Empire! Empire! [With the final bag empty, Dane reaches down and picks up the fallen box of matches... ...and ignites the table on the floor!] JD: No! No! No! [A barefoot kick to the gut doubles up the Drunken Bastard which allows Morgan Dane to hoist him high into the sky, rotate slightly... ...and _drive_ him down through the flaming thumbtack table with a powerbomb!] JD: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! [A huge cloud of smoke rises as the ringside fire extinguishers are put to good use, Dane still clinging to the ropes to stay standing.] JD: The referee is over... that's a quick count... he wants this over too. [The referee is counting very swiftly in an attempt to finish this match.] JD: Six... seven... eight... [The Drunken Bastard, bloodied and burned, lies completely motionless on the concrete floor.] JD: Nine... ten! [DING DING DING] MC: Here is your winner... MORGAN DANE! [A huge ovation goes up for the Maniac as he leans against the ropes on the apron, a triumphant arm raised in victory.] JD: What a war... what a victory for Morgan Dane. The Drunken Bastard put up one hell of a fight but he just couldn't get it done. In the end, he just ran out of steam... much like the "promoter" of this match who is out cold on the floor next to us. Thanks for finishing things up here with me, Sunshine. SS: Your pleasure as always! JD: Umm... right. Fans, we've got to clean up this carnage so while we're doing that, let's head back to Marky Mark [giggle] and see what else he's got for us. Mark? [Cut to the stage area where Mark Stegglet is now viewing the action from.] MS: Thanks, Jason. And please don't ever call me that again... [under his breath] MS: ...jerk. [Mark smiles brightly again!] MS: What a battle that was and a unique one to say the least. Our management has committed to bringing to Los Angeles some of the most unique action on the planet and I think we just caught a taste of that. We've seen luchadors from Mexico, competitors from Japan, and the first-ever ATF Death Match. Crazy stuff! Fans, coming up nex- [From over Mark's shoulder, we hear a voice from inside the Elks Lodge.] ??: _This_ is what I've signed up for? [Mark Stegglet turns to look inside the building and then gestures for the camera to cut... and cut it does, revealing a wrestler standing in the ring with a mic watching the debris from the last match be swept away. He's sporting full length red tights with "King" written down the right leg and a golden crown stitched on the rear of the tights. He turns to look at all sides of the arena, revealing a pot-belly and an upper torso that has a pretty thick layer of dark body hair covering it. He's sporting an obviously died blond goatee to go with his dark stringy hair. This man considers himself royalty in a wrestling ring. This man is the self-proclaimed "King of Old School." This man is Garry Allen.] GA: I was down South laying waste to everyone I came across... in Georgia, in the Carolinas, in Virgina, in Tennessee... I was dominating them all and I was doing it the old school way. I was using my mind... I was using these fists... and I was using the skill that makes me the greatest in-ring competitor alive today. [Allen sneers.] GA: I wasn't flying around doing backflips like the morons in the six man tag tonight. I wasn't sporting some stupid gimmick like that kid named after a video game or the furry little guy who punked him out. [He chuckles.] GA: I wasn't putting asses in the seats by striking a pose and staring at my muscles. [He leans over the ropes, pointing at the smoldering table being carried away.] GA: And I damn sure wasn't using thumbtacks, chairs, tables... and fire?! You people call yourself a _wrestling_ company and you're lighting people on fire? This kind of thing disgusts me. This kind of place disgust me. And the fact that you people sit here and cheer it all? _You_ disgust me. [The crowd takes a moment to let Garry Allen know they're not too fond of him either.] GA: This place makes me sick and as I sat back to watch the show so far... I really thought about walking out the door and not coming back. [BIG POP!] GA: But I won't! [The crowd boos that decision.] GA: I'm going to stay in Pro Wrestling Revolution and I'm going to wrestle! I'm going to assert myself physically inside this battleground... and I'm going to win. No chairs, no tables, no moonsaults, no 450 splashes... none of it. Just these fists... this mind... this wrestling machine of a body... and all the victories that come with it. And it all starts right now. I demand that anyone from the locker room with enough guts to throw all the weapons aside and fight me like a man... you hit this ring right now and prove it. [Garry Allen throws down the mic, waving over the ropes towards the locker room area.] JD: An impromptu open challenge thrown down by the King of Old School, Garry Allen, and now all eyes are on that locker room to see who is coming through the curtain. Who will accept an open challenge here tonight in Reseda in the Elks Lodge? While we wait to find out, a quick welcome to my latest guest color commentator, Canada's own Barry Paulson. BP: Thanks, Jason. It's good to be out here. JD: Well, Barry.. we're all waiting to see- ["Queen Bitch" by David Bowie kicks in to a little buzz.] JD: Wait a second. BP: I know this music, Jason. I'm a good customer of Psycho Driver Video. JD: And we thank you for it it, Barry but... these fans seem to know too. But I don't think Garry Allen has a clue. [The curtain parts and into view walks... ...a woman.] JD: Are you kidding me? Shannon LaFoye is accepting the challenge?! BP: She's one of the best women's wrestlers in the world, Jason. JD: But Garry Allen is not a woman! She's not some huge beast of a woman either. I don't like the looks of this at all. [Shannon LaFoye walks down the aisle with purpose, clad in some purple full-length vinyl. She slides in under the bottom rope, her long red hair whipping back as she pops up to her feet... ...only to find Garry Allen laughing at her.] GA: You? You?! I saw you backstage earlier... I thought you were one of Michaelson's rats. [Big heel pop!] GA: You're actually a wrestler? You're a- [LaFoye snatches the mic away from a surprised Allen.] SL: Yes, I am a wrestler. Yes, I am a woman. And yes, I am accepting your challenge to a match. Any other questions? [Allen laughs harder, raising his hands in protest.] SL: I came here to Southern California for an opportunity to compete. I asked Todd Michaelson ... I begged him... please give me a chance to compete. Please. But he told me no. "There's no room in Pro Wrestling Revolution for a women's divison." [She shakes her head.] SL: Sometimes I think there's no room in this _business_ for a women's division. All over the industry no one wants one... no one offers one... no one believes the fans want to see one. Well, I believe they do. I _know_ they do. And I'm going to prove that they do. And if Todd Michaelson doesn't want me to wrestle another woman, I'm showing up here every month and challenging one of his men to a match to show them what I can do. [Allen grabs a second mic from the timekeeper.] GA: Listen, sweetheart. If you want to show me what you can do, I'm sure I can arrange it later tonight. I'm in Room 227... come on by and- "SLAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHH!" [Allen grimaces, staring at Shannon LaFoye as his cheek rapidly reddens.] GA: I'm going to choose to let that slide, woman. Now step aside and let me face some _real_ competition. Let me face- SL: What's the matter, Garry? You think you're too overmatched for me? You think you're too much for me to handle? That it wouldn't be fair for us to compete together considering how different we are? Well, we are pretty different, I'll give you that. You may have a point. [Allen nods his head.] SL: But we do have one thing in common that makes me think this is the perfect matchup for us. [Allen looks wary.] SL: See, as it turns out... neither of us have any balls. [The crowd "ohhhhhhhs" at the punchline that quickly turns Allen red with fury... ...and he charges at the smaller woman with a clothesline.] JD: Clothesli- ducked by Shannon! [Referee Keith Kyle slides into the ring, calling for a bell to bring the match to order.] JD: Big dropkick by Shannon takes Garry Allen off his feet! I don't like the idea of this match at all, Barry. BP: She wants to compete. You're going to deny her that too? JD: Well, I respect the desire to fight but... well, I don't think mixed matches are appropriate. BP: Isn't it her decision? [Allen scampers back to his feet and catches a second dropkick squarely on the jaw, knocking him through the ropes and out to the floor.] JD: She's got Allen reeling though... I'll have to admit that. [Leaning over the ropes, LaFoye demands he "Get your scrawny ass in here!" to the cheers from the crowd.] JD: Garry Allen's gotta regroup a bit. He needs to think about what he's doing in there. Does he really want to have a wrestling match with a woman? What will that do for his reputation? BP: By the same token, what does it do for his reputation if he runs away from a woman? Even a woman as skilled as LaFoye. [Allen looks around at the jeering crowd and finally shakes his head, waving his arms towards the ring as he starts to walk back towards the entrance.] JD: That's it! Garry Allen's walking out on this! The referee is going to start counting.. the crowd is upset... LaFoye is upset but I can't say that I blame the self-proclaimed King of Old School for- [POP!] BP: Shannon's not letting him out of this that easy! JD: No she's not! [The crowd cheers as the attractive LaFoye slides from the ring, racing up the aisle behind Allen... ...and drills him from behind with a running bodyblock that takes him off his feet!] JD: Down goes Garry Allen! [The cheers grow louder as LaFoye flips Allen onto his back and begins drilling him with mounted forearms.] JD: She's beating the tar out of him! [After a couple more forearms, she stands up, dragging Allen off the floor by the hair and walking him back down the aisle towards the ring, hurling him under the ropes into the ring.] JD: Allen back in... LaFoye steps up on the ring apron... BP: She's measuring him, Jason. She's got something big in mind here. JD: Allen staggers up... [Gripping the top rope, LaFoye slingshots into a springboard, tucking her legs into a dropkick... ...and coming up empty as Allen dives to the side, allowing LaFoye to slam into the canvas with a thud!] JD: OHHHHH! BP: She went for a big shot there and came up empty, Jason. That might be it right there. JD: For her sake, I hope it is. [Allen leans against the ropes, smirking at the downed LaFoye, waving for her to get back up.] JD: Oh come on, Garry. Just cover her. BP: She embarassed him, Jason. Now he's going to make her pay for it. JD: This is not the kind of action we want to see in a PWR ring. This is not- [As LaFoye staggers to her feet, Allen races forward, sweeping the legs out as he pushes forward... ..._driving_ the back of her head into the canvas!] JD: OHHHHHH! STO! STO BY GARRY ALLEN! BP: That oughta do it. JD: It certainly should. Allen with a cover. One... two... thre- [Huge heel pop!] JD: Oh, come on! He pulled her up! What a jerk! BP: This isn't right, Jason. She may have embarassed him but there's no call for this... none at all. JD: He's dragging her off the mat... oh no. [The crowd boos wildly as Allen pulls LaFoye into a standing headscissors.] JD: This is completely unneccessary! This is complete- [POP!] JD: Barry Paulson, where are you- [The crowd roars as Paulson rolls into the ring... ...and drills Allen with a running clothesline that knocks him off his feet, freeing LaFoye from the piledriver attempt.] JD: Yeah! Barry Paulson makes the save! He saved LaFoye from that piledriver! [He drops to a knee, checking on a stunned LaFoye as Allen recovers on the floor, screaming at Paulson.] JD: Allen is asking for the mic... what's he- [Allen shouts over the mic.] GA: Hey! I don't know who you are... I don't know why you felt the need to stick your nose in my business... but I've got two words for you. Thank you. [The crowd buzzes with confusion.] GA: That's right... thank you. And I've got two reasons for thanking you. First, you saved me from having to put that bitch in the hospital. [Big heel pop!] GA: I was going to spike her cute little head into the mat with the most dangerous piledriver in the history of this business... I was going to put her in the hospital... and I was going to make headlines around the wrestling world as the guy who had to cripple some bitch who forgot her place in this business is on her back in the locker room _after_ the match. [Allen cackles as the fans jeer.] GA: And the second reason I need to thank you, stranger? You've given me a reason to come back out here later on and put my skills on display for all of these fans. So, you go back to the locker room... get your gear on... and we're going to come back out here to give these people a showcase of exactly what the King of Old School can do in that ring! [Paulson nods his head, accepting the challenge as Allen tosses down the mic and makes his exit.] JD: The challenge has been accepted! Garry Allen and Barry Paulson will collide later tonight and that should be an excellent matchup. Paulson going back to check on LaFoye who has gotten back to her feet now and- [The crowd gasps as LaFoye shoves Paulson away.] JD: What the- why did she do that? [An annoyed LaFoye shouts a few words at Paulson before shaking her head and exiting the ring.] JD: She told him that she could fight her own battles and I hate to be a sexist pig but it certainly didn't look that way just then! I think she was on her way to some serious injuries when Barry Paulson came in there to bail her out! [Paulson looks frustrated, shrugging his shoulders as she storms out of view.] JD: Fans, what an explosive situation this is. I can't wait for that big Allen/Paulson showdown later tonight. But I understand now that we've got Mark Stegglet standing by with two of the men we'll be seeing in action later tonight. Mark? [We cut back to the hallway outside Todd Michaelson's locker room where Mark Stegglet is standing with two men as advertised. Both are men that PWR fans have seen before. They are "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont respectively. Stokes is clad in yellow and black tights and seems to have gained a bit of muscle since we last saw him. Beaumont is... well, Beaumont. He's sporting a very large fro these days and is running a pick through it like nobody's business.] MS: Thanks, Jason. And it gives me great pleasure to say welcome back to the Revolution to these two men! [Stokes leans over the mic.] SSS: You know, Mark... a lot of people were very bummed to see PWR close the first time around but none more than the two standing here next to you. We were both happy in PWR... happy working in the Dojo. We were improving with every week and we knew it was just a matter of time before we'd be able to break through. But PWR closed, the Dojo closed. And we got stuck working the indies trying to feed our families. We couldn't worry about improving anymore. We needed to worry about getting booked the next weekend... and the weekend after that. We had to worry about promoters stiffing us and leaving us stranded somewhere. It's not exactly what you want for a young wrestler trying to make it, you know? [Mark Stegglet nods his head as he pulls the mic back.] MS: Bling Bling Beaumont, your thoughts? [Beaumont leaves the pick in his hair as he grabs Stegglet's wrist.] BBB: My thoughts? My thoughts are that you are standing with the original Funky Bunch, Marky Mark! My thoughts are that the Revolution is back and in living color! My thoughts are that while we've got people coming out to the ring cryin' and whinin', pissin' and moanin' about whatever's stuck in their grill... ...we're just happy to be here and hope that we can help the ball club. [Stokes cracks a grin.] SSS: That's right. We want to take it a day at a time, give it one hundred and ten percent, and the Good Lord willin', things will work out. [Beaumont takes the mic back.] BBB: So, our opponents tonight are all serious and mean... they tell us that we take things too lightly... we have too much fun... we don't focus on the ring. You goin' to give me static for having a flock of women following me to the show? Sucka please. [Big grin.] BBB: And what it comes down to is if we don't take things serious enough and we still manage to smack down yo' asses... SSS: Then that pretty much means your lives suck. Right? BBB: Right. [A big high-five and the duo exits from view.] MS: You heard it, Jason! Back to you! [We cut to ringside where Jason Dane is seated next to a masked man. The man is dressed in black cloth tights with a bare chest revealing a horrific scar across his chest. A red mask covers his face with black circles around the eyes and mouth. He grips an intricately carved wooden cane in his right hand with a crystal animal's skull atop it.] JD: Welco... welcome back, fans. As you can see, I've been joined by another individual looking to be the PWR color commentator. This man hails from the land of Rising Sun and is known as Gran Kedamono. Kedamono-san, welcome to the Revolution. [Kedamono snorts with derision.] GK: You know nothing of Revolution, Dane. But now that I am here, perhaps I can enlighten you. JD: Perhaps. Fans, we've got an exciting matchup coming up next. We're going to have two men out here who have never competed for Pro Wrestling Revolution and actually, one of which, who has never competed in the United States. He just happened to be in attendance here tonight for the show since he's in town for another promotion and we booked him on the spot! Fans, let's go up to Melissa for what should be a thrilling encounter! [Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first... ["She Blinded Me With Science" by Thomas Dolby starts up to a mild reaction.] MC: He hails from Sacramento, California... weighing in at 240 pounds... He is "Sweet Science"... JOHNNY SAUNNNNDERS! [Saunders springs through the curtain to some cheers, reaching out to slap the outstretched hands from the fans. He has an athletic build, sporting red and white trunks and kneepads as he quickly reaches the ring, sliding headfirst under the ropes.] MC: And his opponent... [The sounds of Bouncing Souls' "Ole!" comes over the PA bringing the crowd to their feet... especially the DVDVR gang who are very familiar with the man about to make his PWR debut.] MC: He stands 6'4 and weighed in tonight at 240 pounds... from Manchester, England... "THUNDERFOOT"... CONNOR BARRRRRNES!! [A big pop rings out from the Internet fans as Barnes bursts through the curtain. His lanky form is immediate obvious as he slaps a few hands on his way down the aisle. His shaved head reveals a few bumps and scars on his head. He's dressed in orange trunks and kneepads along with white boots. Reaching the ring, he grips the top rope, slingshotting himself over the ropes and into the ring to another big cheer.] JD: This is something I'm really looking forward to, Kedamono-san. GK: I have followed the career of Barnes for quite some time. I'm eager to see if he lives up to the hype. JD: Is he someone you would like to face inside a PWR ring? GK: Without question. I'm always looking to test myself against the best in the world. [Referee William Wahl steps between the two men who stand toe to toe in center ring, giving a few last instructions before calling for the bell.] JD: Here we go! [The crowd buzzes a bit as the two men go toe to toe in mid-ring, bumping chests as they exchange words.] JD: You can bet that Johnny Saunders is very familiar with Connor Barnes. GK: If he is any student of the game, he should be. Barnes is no stranger to the educated in this industry. JD: That's for sure. He has been highly revered in Europe for quite some time and is just starting to make waves on this side of the ocean as well. Saunders on the other hand has been working throughout the States for a couple years now and is widely considered one of the best mat technicians in the game. This should be outstanding. [Barnes fires off a headbutt to stop the talking that sends Saunders staggering away.] JD: Ooof! Not many out there who'll use a headbutt to open the match. [Grabbing Saunders by the wrist, Barnes pulls him away from the ropes and goes into a full armtwist.] JD: Armtwist applied by the British native, pushing down on the wrist to increase his leverage... [Saunders ducks under his own arm, twisting away from the pressure to pull Barnes into a hammerlock.] JD: Nice counter by Sweet Science. GK: This is a game... two children playing with one another to see who is best at something. JD: I don't think- GK: What you believe is of no importance to me. A real champion does not go through this "feeling out" process. A real champion knows all he needs to know about his opponent before climbing into the ring. [With his chin tucked into the middle of Barnes' back, Saunders is safe from all back elbow and snap mare counter attempts.] JD: Barnes has yet to find a way out of this one. His height is actually a disadvantage to him in this situation. [Dropping down to the mat, Barnes scissors Saunders' legs to take him down with a drop toehold, quickly floating over the back to apply a side headlock.] JD: Barnes into the side headlock... a good counter to the hammerlock. GK: Do not feed into their hype, Dane. They want everyone to whistle and clap and marvel at their mat skills. True warriors need no applause. JD: The Brit is bearing down on the headlock, really wrenching the neck of his opponent. [The referee is right there to check for a submission as Saunders tries to find a way off his belly. He attempts to slip a hand between his face and Connor's arm to make space in the headlock but a re-tightening stops that cold. Saunders manages to slip his arms around the waist of Barnes, rolling to the side.] JD: Barnes' shoulders are down. One! Two! Barnes rolls back the other way to break it. Saunders gets his legs underneath him but the height of Barnes really puts the leverage on him. [With Barnes standing and Saunders kneeling on one knee, Saunders throws a couple forearms to the ribs, trying to break the hold.] JD: Saunders trying to get free.. he can't get- [Pushing off the mat, Saunders hoists the larger man into the air, dropping him down in a belly-to-back suplex to break the hold.] JD: And Johnny Saunders is free from the headlock! He used the suplex to escape and- [Leaping into the air, Saunders drops a knee down into the ribcage of his opponent.] JD: Ohhh! Nice kneedrop! Right down into the ribs. [Saunders stays in a kneeling position, driving a few clenched fists into the ribcage.] JD: Going after the ribs of Barnes in the early moments of this one. And with a bit more aggression that I had honestly expected. Saunders has always come across like a very sportsmanlike competitor. GK: Perhaps he actually wants to win a match. JD: Are you implying that one can't be a good sport and win a match? GK: I'm implying that Johnny Saunders might see the world in a different light if he had a chat with me. JD: Interesting. [With the referee telling him to open the hand, Saunders complies... then drives a couple palm strikes into the right ribcage.] JD: Ow! Open hand strikes to the ribs now. GK: Just as effective as a clenched fist if thrown properly. JD: Saunders back to his feet, reaching down to- [Barnes quickly reaches up, pulling Saunders down in an inside cradle.] JD: CRADLE! ONE! TWO! TH- NO! [An irate Saunders springs off the canvas and drives a lunging forearm into the ribs of his opponent as he rises, knocking him back into the corner.] JD: Knocked back into the corner, Saunders on the attack... [Leaning down, Saunders grabs the middle rope and drives a shoulder into the ribs.] JD: Ohh! Right on target. Right to the ribs. The referee's ordering him to back off and- [Saunders lunges in again... ...and catches a raised knee to the chest.] JD: Oof! That'll knock the wind out of you. [Grabbing his opponent by the hair, Barnes brings a knee up into the face in a Muay Thai type clinch.] JD: Nice knees by Thunderfoot. And of course, with a name like that, you can guess you need to beware the kicks. GK: Kicks, yes. But they're not Tiger Claw type kicks. You will not see Barnes uncorking shin kicks and the like. He does however posess a stunning running dropkick as well as a brutal soccer kick. JD: You've done your homework. GK: No need. As I said, I'm a student of the game. A true student never needs to do homework. JD: I see. Barnes straightens up Sweet Science now and- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Big chop by the man from the United Kingdom! [Saunders staggers back from the chop, rubbing his chest as he grabs the top rope to stay standing.] JD: Barnes in again... winds up... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Goodness! You could hear that all the way out in the Inland Empire, Kedabono-san. [Grabbing Saunders by the hair, Barnes pulls him off the ropes and drills him with a forearm to the side of the face.] JD: Man oh man. Connor Barnes is throwing some brutal strikes in there. Imagine him and Morgan Dane squaring off? GK: That would bring me great joy. JD: Another crushing forearm to the side of the face puts Saunders in the corner once more... [With Saunders hanging onto the ropes, Barnes winds up.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: The crowd is cringing with the impact of those blows. Barnes is just turning Saunders' chest into raw meat. Grabs the wrist, big whip... [And as Saunders slams backfirst into the corner, Barnes stomps his foot twice.] JD: Here comes the Thunderclap! [Barnes sprints across the ring at top velocity, leaping into the air and tucking his legs up before lashing out with both in a dropkick... ...that comes up empty as Saunders sidesteps, causing Barnes to slam his legs into the corner before crashing down on his back on the canvas.] JD: No one's home! Johnny Saunders managed to avoid the dropkick in the corner and he's got a big opening here! [Saunders quickly moves to the attack, dropping a knee down on the skull of the stunned Barnes, then applying a quick lateral press.] JD: One! Two! Just a two count there for Johnny Saunders. [Saunders quickly regains his feet, yanking Barnes off the mat by the hair... ...and drilling him with a European Uppercut that sends the Brit falling back into the ropes.] JD: And now he's got Connor Barnes reeling. Saunders steps in... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: And he returns the favor with a chop of his own! [Grabbing Barnes by the hair, Saunders drills him with a quartet of stiff forearms to the side of the head, knocking him back into the corner again.] JD: Johnny Saunders looks like he's changed his attack plan. He's gone to head strikes instead of the ribs that he started with. GK: A lack of focus perhaps. I can help him with that. JD: I don't- ohhh! Snap suplex by Saunders! Floats into another pin attempt. One. Two... two count only. [While in lateral press position, Saunders wraps one arm around the neck of Barnes to control him and pins his hip down with the other forearm, opening up the Brit for knees to the ribs] JD: Oh! Hard knee to the ribcage! Saunders is going back to the ribs right after we commented on it. GK: Impressive. JD: Another knee... and another... Barnes is crying out on those knees. [Saunders drives home a couple more knees before Barnes manages to hook an arm around the bottom rope, forcing a ref break.] JD: A brutal assault on the body by Johnny Saunders come to an end thanks to the rope break. He breaks out of the side mount, climbing back to his feet. Oh! Hard stomp to the ribs. Come on, referee! [The referee steps in to call for Saunders to back off so the man known as "Sweet Science" charges off the far ropes, rebounding back with a baseball slide kick to the ribs that knocks Connor Barnes out to the floor!] JD: Oh my! Sliding kick finds the mark and Barnes is out on the floor. GK: And Johnny Saunders is showing a killer instinct by going out on the concrete after him. JD: Both men on the floor. The referee is starting a double count. [Saunders pulls the wincing Barnes off the floor.] JD: What's he going for now? Hooking Barnes around the waist... oh no! He's going for a German on the floor! [The waistlock brings a buzz from the crowd as Saunders attempts to get his opponent in the air.] JD: Barnes is fighting it! If he gets hit with a German on the floor, this match is over! [Saunders strains once more, trying to budge the UK native off the floor... ...and catches a hard back elbow to the temple for his efforts.] JD: Oh! Barnes breaks the hold with a back elbow. [Spinning to face his attacker, Barnes grabs a handful of hair and _hurls_ Saunders into the front row of chairs, sending fans scattering once more.] JD: I gotta believe that Connor Barnes isn't too pleased with nearly getting suplexed on his head on the concrete floor. GK: Can you possibly blame him? He should grab Saunders and do the same. JD: I thought you were rooting for Saunders. GK: I'm rooting for the fighting spirit... the killer instinct... the battle itself. JD: Barnes making his way into the crowd, pulling Saunders off the floor... ohh! Big European Uppercut in the seats! [The impact of the blow knocks Saunders back down to the floor as Barnes drives a few stomps into the lower back.] JD: Both men are in the crowd. The count continues by the official as he implores them to get back into the ring. GK: It appears that Barnes is going back in. [The British grappler rolls back into the ring as the count continues on Saunders.] JD: The count is up to seven... now to eight... [Johnny Saunders pushes himself off the floor, staggering towards the ring... ...where Connor Barnes attempts to grab the advantage, baseball sliding with a kick aimed at Saunders' face.] JD: Baseball sli- sidestepped by Saunders! [Who grabs the extended leg of Barnes by the foot, slamming the knee down into the apron at high velocity!] JD: OHHHHH! What a counter by Johnny Saunders! GK: The referee broke his count because of the assault by Barnes which allowed Saunders to take advantage of his position on the floor. JD: The referee is demanding that Saunders let go of Barnes' leg... ohhh! Down on the apron again! GK: You spoke of Barnes' lethal kicks earlier in the match. If a man can not stand, he can not kick. JD: Very true. Didn't they say that in Karate Kid 3? [Saunders maintains his grip on the foot of Barnes, sneering at the referee before jamming his elbow down into the kneejoint.] JD: Come on, referee! GK: I see nothing illegal about his actions, Dane. JD: It's very unsporting. GK: I thought Johnny Saunders was a sportsman. JD: You're loving this, aren't you? GK: I am rather enjoying Saunders living up to his potential, yes. [Saunders protests the referee's cries to get things back in the ring before balling up his fist and slamming it down repeatedly into the kneejoint of his opponent.] JD: Hammerfists being driven down on the knee! A brutal attack on the knee. [Backing off with his hands raised, Saunders walks up the steel steps to stand on the apron.] JD: Finally, Saunders is getting back in the ring. GK: You sure about that? JD: What do you- no! [Running down the apron, Saunders leaps into the air, driving his knee down on the exposed knee on the apron!] JD: OHHHHHH! [The crowd exclaims in pain along with Jason Dane as a smirking Saunders kneels on the knee, pretending to not hear the referee calling him into the ring.] JD: Get off him, dammit! GK: Johnny Saunders is showing as the Americans say... the eye of the tiger tonight. JD: Not quite. He's being a cheating son of a bitch is what he's being! GK: Hostility will get you nowhere, Dane. [Saunders finally gets back to his feet, stepping through the ropes into the ring where Barnes is grimacing as he pulls his leg back into the ring as well, clutching the injured knee.] JD: Saunders is pleading innocence to the referee but he hasn't been innocent at all here tonight. I'm frankly shocked by the savageness we've seen from him. [The NoCal native pauses for a moment, gesturing for Barnes to get back to his feet. The Brit rolls to his good knee, trying to push himself off the mat.] JD: He's measuring Connor Barnes... setting him up for something... [And as Barnes uses the top rope to pull himself to his feet... ...Saunders hurls himself at his opponent, driving his shoulder into the back of the injured knee! Big heel pop!] JD: Ohhh! A chop block! Illegal in the NFL, legal in Pro Wrestling Revolution! And very effective! [With Barnes on the mat, Saunders applies a lateral press, reaching back to hook the injured leg.] JD: A cover! One! Two! Thre- [POP!] JD: NO! Barnes shoots a shoulder off the mat in time! [The near fall gets the crowd buzzing as Saunders complains to the referee about the count.] JD: Saunders back to his feet, Barnes is trying to crawl away, trying to get a breather. GK: Keep focus, Saunders-san. JD: The injured knee is really slowing Barnes down. He's crawling on one leg to get towards the corner, trying to get some distance between he and Saunders. [Grabbing the ropes, Barnes pulls himself to a standing position... standing on one leg.] JD: Saunders is moving in on Barnes... moving in on... [But as Saunders gets close, Barnes _hurls_ himself out of the corner, cracking Saunders upside the jaw with a forearm!] JD: OHHHH! WHAT A FOREARM!!! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!!! [Barnes throws an arm across the chest of Saunders.] JD: ONE!! TWO!! THR- ohhhhh! Kickout by Saunders! [Grabbing the ropes again, Barnes pulls himself off the mat as Saunders pushes himself up to his knees.] JD: Saunders on his knees... Barnes is- [Barnes grits his teeth and takes a three step dash, leaping into the air and _driving_ both feet squarely in the face of "Sweet Science."] JD: OHHHH! DID YOU HEAR THAT?! [The man known as "Thunderfoot" rolls away from Saunders, reaching down to clutch at the injured knee as Saunders lies motionless on the canvas.] JD: I think he might be able to get him here but he can't make the cover. Barnes' knee is too banged up to make a pin attempt and Johnny Saunders is getting plenty of time to recover from that dropkick. GK: He needs to take advantage of this moment, Dane. JD: Barnes rolls across the ring, using the ropes to pull himself off the mat again. He can barely stand on that knee right now. On the other side of the ring, Saunders is up to a knee... back to his feet now... [Both men lean on the ropes across the ring from one another, trying to stay on their feet.] JD: Saunders! ["Sweet Science" bursts into action, charging across the ring... ...where Barnes drops his head, backdropping Saunders over the ropes.] JD: SAUNDERS LANDS ON HIS FEET ON THE APRON! [Where he promptly grabs the top rope, leaping in the air and swinging down with both feet into the kneecap of Barnes, dropping him down to a knee. Saunders slingshots over the ropes, taking the rising Barnes down in a sunset flip!] JD: SUNSET FLIP!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- NOOOO! [The crowd roars at the near fall as Saunders slaps the canvas in frustration.] JD: Johnny Saunders thought he had him right there and I can't say he was wrong. I thought it was over as well. GK: He needs to come up with a killshot. One more big move to finish his opponent. [A frustrated Saunders climbs to his feet, glaring at Barnes who is using the ropes again to pull himself off the mat.] JD: Saunders is moving in from the blind side... what's he going for here? [Sneaking up on Barnes, Saunders dives forward in a single-leg, hooking the leg and pulling a hopping Barnes away from the ropes.] JD: He's got Connor Barnes at his mercy. He's got- [But Barnes leaps into the air in desperation, cracking Saunders in the back of the head with his free foot.] JD: ENZUGIRI! ENZUGIRI! ENZUGIRI! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN AGAIN! [The big kick leaves Saunders stunned facedown on the mat as the wounded Barnes immediately starts crawling for the corner, the fans starting a rallyclap to cheer him on.] JD: These fans are solidly behind "Thunderfoot" Connor Barnes here tonight in Reseda! Saunders is down... he hasn't even moved yet... but Connor Barnes is using the ropes to pull himself up again. He's not able to put any weight on that knee. He's not able to even stand on it, let alone run. GK: I don't even think he can walk, Dane. JD: I'd agree with that. [Barnes leans against the corner turnbuckles as a dazed Saunders finally pushes himself off the mat to his knees and finally to his feet, stumbling into the opposite corner.] JD: Both men are dazed... both men trying to figure out how to finish off the other... both men- here comes Saunders! [Struggling up all his remaining strength, Johnny Saunders charges across the ring... ...and Barnes uses the top rope to pull his body in the air, kicking out with both feet right into the jaw of Saunders, a blow that knocks him head over heels down to the canvas where he remains on all fours.] JD: Big counter by Barnes and- [Seeing his foe on all fours, Barnes takes a quick two-step dash and _drills_ Saunders in the temple with a soccer kick that flips Saunders onto his back, allowing Barnes to collapse on top of him in a cover.] JD: PENALTY KICK!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEE!!! [DING DING DING] JD: Connor Barnes with the Penalty Kick almost out of nowhere and he- wait a second! [The crowd erupts into boos as Garry Allen sprints to the ring, diving under the bottom rope where he leaps to his feet and immediately starts stomping the injured knee of the still-downed Barnes.] JD: What in the world is he doing out here?! His match is scheduled next but he's got business getting involved with this one! GK: From my brief experience with Allen-san, it appears he decides what is his business. JD: It appears that you're right! [Boos continue to pour down on the "King of Old School" as he repeatedly stomps the injured Barnes despite the referee's attempts to back him away.] JD: This is ridiculous... this is out of hand... this is- [POP!] JD: BARRY PAULSON! [The crowd roars as the Canadian competitor flies down the aisle, diving into the ring, and causing Garry Allen to promptly bail out of the squared circle, standing on the floor as Paulson soaks up the cheers.] JD: And for the second time tonight, Barry Paulson has chased off Garry Allen before Allen could do some permanent damage. He's a true Canadian hero tonight here in Los Angeles. [Standing in the ring in his red and white Maple Leap full-length tights, Paulson leans over the ropes, waving Allen back into the ring while the referee tends to Barnes.] JD: Fans, we're going to get things under control out here real quick before our matchup between Garry Allen and Barry Paulson. Let's go back to Mark Stegglet who I understand is standing by with Ben Waterson! [We cut to the hallway area where Mark Stegglet is indeed standing by with Ben Waterson... and only Ben Waterson, who by the way, looks quite smug.] MS: Thanks, Jason. Mr. Waterson, where is Kolya Sudakov? [Waterson looks annoyed at the question.] BW: Are you serious? Is that a serious question? Don't worry about where Kolya Sudakov is, Stegglet. Do you really think a finely tuned athlete, a world-class fighting machine like him needs to be bothered with someone like you? [Stegglet starts to speak but gets shut down.] BW: Didn't your uncle teach you anything about this business? You're an embarassment to your family's name. [Stegglet turns a little red in the cheeks at that.] MS: I just wanted to get some thoughts from you before this big match. You seem very confident. [Waterson cackles.] BW: Confident doesn't even begin to describe it, Stegglet. When I came here tonight, I hoped to embarass Michaelson a little bit... maybe demoralize him... take a few potshots at his so-called "revolution" and then take the rest of the night off. I thought the destruction of Todd Michaelson and Pro Wrestling Revolution would take months... maybe even longer... [A chuckle.] BW: Little did I know that Michaelson planned to giftwrap himself for slaughter here tonight. [Stegglet interrupts.] MS: What do you mean by that? [Waterson looks irritated again.] BW: It's simple, son. Kolya Sudakov is one of the most dangerous men to ever step foot in a professional wrestling ring, right? [Stegglet sorta nods.] BW: And Todd Michaelson these days is one of the most fragile men to ever step foot in a professional wrestling ring, right? [Stegglet refuses to nod, holding firm.] BW: It's okay, kid. No need to get yourself fired on my account. I'll answer for you. The answer is... absolutely right. And we know this because Michaelson never lets us hear the end of it. The standard Todd Michaelson prematch promo involves selling the danger involved in even stepping in the ring... how the slightest mis-step... the smallest fall... the most insignificant of blows could put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He wants us to know it. He wants to milk every dime out of it. A cynical man would say that Todd Michaelson is a fraud and that he stands no more chance of being injured in there than any man. [Waterson pulls the mic closer.] BW: But I am not a cynical man. I believe Michaelson when he says he could end the night in a wheelchair. And in return, I ask him to do me the same courtesy. Todd Michaelson, believe me when I say that your eternal sob story has a very distinct possibility of coming true tonight. [A smirk.] BW: It's somewhat fitting, really. A man who has main evented in Madison Square Garden... in huge arenas and stadiums around the world... I bet you never thought your last moment in a wrestling ring would be getting hauled out of the Elks Lodge in Reseda on a stretcher. [Waterson chuckles.] BW: Todd Michaelson, tonight you must bring everything you have left to the ring... you must give forth every last bit of effort remaining in your body... you must fight the battle of your life. And in the end? [His voice drops to a whisper.] BW: It still won't be enough. Tonight, Todd Michaelson, your career ends. Consider... yourself... warned. [Waterson shoves the mic away, jostling Stegglet as he storms out of view.] MS: A very determined... and dangerous... Kolya Sudakov awaits Todd Michaelson tonight. I hope the boss knows what he's doing. Fans, let's go back to Jason who I understand has been re-joined by Bucky Wilde! [Cut back to the ring where we see Barry Paulson and Garry Allen standing across the ring from one another, glaring at their opposition.] JD: Thanks, Mark. And as intense as our main event is going to be, I think this one might rank right up there. Garry Allen is furious at Paulson for interrupting him twice tonight... you can see that in his eyes. BW: What's the dilly with Paulson? What's he got against the King? JD: I think it's more a matter of Barry Paulson trying to do the right thing... first, saving Shannon LaFoye from the piledriver and just moments ago, helping Connor Barnes when Allen struck again. BW: So, basically he's a do-goodin' Boy Scout? JD: Errr... I suppose. BW: Well, I reckon Garry Allen's about to earn a merit badge of his own, daddy-o... in butt kickin'. JD: We're about to find out. Melissa has just finished the introductions and we're about to get things underway here in Los Angeles! [The bell rings as the two men stand across the ring from one another. The referee stands between the two calling for action as Allen slowly starts out from his corner, edging towards the center of the ring.] JD: Garry Allen slowly on the move now... moving close to Paulson... [And Paulson has seen enough of Allen for one night, reaching out to shove him hard back towards the corner. Pop!] JD: Barry Paulson is sending a clear message there, Bucky. He's not about to be intimidated by the self-proclaimed King of Old School. [Allen fakes rushing in which sends Paulson into a bit of an open stance. The King of Old School smirks at his opponent as the two men slowly circle one another... each occasionally faking a dive in to tie up, working the crowd up as a rallyclap for action starts.] JD: Here we go, Bucky! First collar and elbow tieup of the match! BW: Both men pushin' hard, tryin' to get an edge and- JD: Quick duck under by Allen... big scoop bodyslam by Garry Allen! [With his opponent downed, Allen leans over to get an edge on him but Paulson brings his legs up, upkicking the King of Old School back towards the corner as Paulson quickly scampers to his feet in the opposite corner.] JD: Quite the exchange there. It's very obvious that these two men know very little about one another. Both men are trying to feel one another out... trying to figure out what's ticking in the other's head. BW: Garry Allen is a master at mindgames, JD... I'll tell ya that much right now. [Paulson rests in the corner a moment, one hand on the back that just got slammed to the canvas as he eyes his opponent. Within a couple seconds, the two men are circling one another once more and diving back in for another tieup.] JD: Back to the collar and elbow... jockeying for position here and- [The crowd pops as Paulson slaps aside the arms of Allen, hooking his arm underneath and hiptossing the King of Old School down to the mat.] JD: Down goes Garry! Paulson on his feet... elbow! No! [Barry Paulson slams into the empty canvas with an elbowdrop as Allen deftly rolls aside. Allen springs to his feet, fists clenched for action, but Paulson pulls up to a knee, hands at the ready to defend himself.] JD: We've got ourselves a stalemate so far in this one, Bucky. BW: Neither man is able to get an edge but you can bet that won't last too long. JD: I'd imagine not. The referee steps in again, allowing Paulson to get back to his feet... and Allen immediately rushes in for a tieup. [But Paulson uses the King's momentum against him, rotating around to push Allen back into the corner.] JD: Back to the corner... ref calling for a break... [And as Paulson breaks clean, Allen spins him around into the corner and rears back with a haymaker.] JD: Big right han- no! Paulson ducked it easily and dives out of the corner! [An annoyed Allen nods his head, smirking at the fiery Paulson who stays a few feet away, fists balled up for battle.] JD: The referee is warning against the clenched fist but I'll bet that has no effect on Garry Allen. BW: You'd be right. Garry will throw the haymakah if it suits his fancy, daddy. JD: Paulson drops his fists though, obeying the referee's orders... and back to another collar and elbow tieup we go. Both of these men are struggling to find any kind of edge in the early moments of this matchup. Paulson pushing Allen back now... back to the corner once more... BW: Will we get a clean break from the Boy Scout this time now that he knows what Garry'd do if the shoe's been otherfootin'? JD: Shoe's been oth- and Paulson goes for the right hand! And this time it's Allen who is able to duck away, scampering out of the corner. This truly is the very definition of a stalemate thusfar, Bucky. BW: These two may not know one another but they's actin' like they've been feudin' for years, daddy. JD: It'll be interesting to see just who can get an edge in this one and how. BW: My money's on whoever cheats first, daddy. JD: Cheats? BW: An eyerake, a chokehold, a groin kick... all's fair in love and war, daddy-o. JD: Well, none of those are fair at all actually. None of them are legal in PWR either and a disqualification would be at risk to the man who tried one of those attacks you mentioned. You can see Barry Paulson being warned for the clenched fist now. The referee showing absolutely no favortism in this one. Referee Curt Thompson doing a fine job thusfar. [Paulson edges out of the corner and lunges into another collar and elbow before quickly pulling Allen into a side headlock.] JD: Nice headlock applied by the Canadian.. but Allen is backing him into the ropes. Ref calls for the break... nothing yet... [With Paulson leaning against the ropes, Allen throws him off to the far side.] JD: Paulson off the ropes... [And as he is about to rebound, Garry Allen rears back for the mother of all roundhouse rights... ...that Barry Paulson wisely avoid by hooking the top rope, pointing at his head as an irate Allen stomps the mat in frustration.] JD: That was a close one for the Canadian, Bucky. BW: He 'bout got his teeth knocked alls da way down his gizzards. JD: That right hand had some dangerous intentions for sure. But Barry Paulson managed to avoid it. [Paulson grins at the small temper tantrum thrown by Allen, pumping a fist in the air and getting the crowd riled up. A rhythmic clap starts up slowly, then faster and faster, cheering on the Canadian grappler as he pursues a backpedaling Allen around the ring.] JD: Suddenly, Garry Allen doesn't look so eager to tangle with Barry Paulson! [And to prove Jason's point, Allen dives through the ropes to the apron, demanding the referee back Paulson away. The clapping for Paulson continues which drives Allen to climb the turnbuckles, screaming for the fans to shut up before jumping down back inside the ring into his corner.] JD: And now it seems it may be Barry Paulson getting a little bit inside the head of Garry Allen, Bucky. You predicted it would be the other way around. BW: It's still early, daddy. JD: The fans are riled up, cheering for the Canadian and- uh oh! [The cheers from the crowd grow even louder as suddenly Shannon LaFoye, hobbling a little, comes through the entrance curtain and walks down the aisle to take a place at ringside. An irate Allen shouts at her... then the ref for allowing her there... then her again... then at Paulson for "plotting against him"... then her again.] JD: Garry Allen is absolutely beside himself, Bucky! Shannon LaFoye's appearance out here has definitely thrown him off his game. [Still complaining to anyone who'll listen, Allen ties up with Paulson once more and immediately shoves him back to the corner.] JD: Back to the corner once again and this time- [The crowd boos wildly as Allen breaks the collar and elbow and _drills_ Paulson in the jaw with a right hand. The referee immediately rushes over but not before a second clenched fist finds the mark on Paulson's jaw.] JD: Get in there, Mr. Thompson! BW: Now you see what y'all did! Ya made him mad! JD: And a third right hand knocks Barry Paulson down to the canvas! The referee finally manages to back Garry Allen away. You know, Allen is not a large man by wrestling standards but he certainly knows how to throw a haymaker. BW: 5'11, 234 of old school greatness, daddy! JD: Paulson's 5'11, 220... so very similar in size. And he's up! [A fired-up Paulson climbs to his feet as Allen taunts the ringside fans and as the King turns around... ...he gets popped with a big right hand that takes him off his feet!] JD: What a shot by Paulson! You'd better check Garry's teeth after that one! [Reeling from the impact, Allen rolls out to the floor, lying on the concrete for a moment until he spies Shannon LaFoye creeping towards him. Popping back to his feet, he points at her, screaming to "Stay the hell out of my way!" as he pushes off the ground.] JD: Garry Allen is out on the floor, yelling at Shannon LaFoye, yelling at the fans... he just got embarassed a bit by that one, I think. BW: Keep yo' cool, daddy. Stay focused, Garry. JD: Try to show a little bit of unbiased commenting, would you? BW: I'm stayin' true to my roots, ya dig? [Allen stalks around the ringside area for a bit, ignoring the referee's count before finally climbing up the steel steps, ordering the referee to back Paulson away before he'll come any further.] JD: The count's up to six... and Allen finally steps through the ropes. [He leans in the ropes for a moment, running a hand over his jaw.] JD: Checking the dental work perhaps? BW: And that idjit Paulson is shaking his hand. He may have broke the damn thing. Boy Scouts can't throw a punch, daddy. JD: He certainly just threw a hell of a punch from my point of view. [Allen eases out from the ropes, ducking a tieup attempt and moving into a rear waistlock.] JD: Waistlock applied by Allen... trying a different approach here... [Paulson spreads his feet wide, trying to avoid a takedown... ...and then drives the point of his elbow hard into the side of Allen's face, breaking his grip.] JD: Back elbow breaks the waistlock and- [Pop!] JD: Another big right hand sends the King reeling once more! [Down on a knee in the corner, Allen is rubbing his chin yet again... and immediately calls the official over.] JD: The referee backs off Paulson, much to the Canadian's annoyance. What does Allen want to whine about now? [The camera zooms in as Allen demonstrates Paulson cracking him with a clenched fist... and then gestures for the referee to call for the bell.] JD: He's asking for a DQ for a clenched fist? BW: And why shouldn't he? You just got done tellin' the world how stuff is illegal! Isn't that fist illegal? JD: Well, yes but- BW: But nothin'! This is just another example of you Yankees cheatin' good God-fearin' Southerners! JD: Are you serious? [The referee takes a moment to explain "referee's discretion" to which an exasperated Allen points out Shannon LaFoye with a "Does she even have a manager's license?"] JD: Did he just ask the ref to check for a manager's license? What in the world is wrong with him? [Shrugging his shoulders at Barry Paulson, the referee walks over towards the lovely Ms. LaFoye, allowing Allen to leap to his feet, racing towards Paulson with a double axehandle aimed at the back of the head... ...but at the last moment, Paulson pivots and buries a right hand in the midsection, completely flipping Allen over and causing him to scramble to the ropes.] JD: Nice counter by Barry Paulson! Allen went for the distract- [And as the ref backs Paulson away from the ropes, LaFoye seizes her chance to wrap her hands around the throat of Garry Allen, choking him while the referee is reprimanding Barry Paulson.] BW: No fair! No fair! JD: It certainly isn't. But I don't think Paulson is even aware that it just happened, Bucky. BW: Don't let that innocent act fool ya, daddy! [As the ref turns around, Allen rolls away from the ropes and pushes up to a knee, immediately screaming at the official to DQ Paulson.] JD: The ref has no idea what just happened. LaFoye is pleading her innocence... Paulson looks confused as well... [The referee moves over to inquire LaFoye about her actions... ...and misses Allen popping up and driving a thumb into the eye of Paulson.] JD: Oh! Cheap shot by the King! [He drives a pair of hard right hands into the cheek of Paulson, knocking him back against the ropes.] JD: He's got the Canadian reeling now. How quickly momentum can swing inside the wrestling ring. Big whip... Paulson off the far side... backdr- [POP!] JD: SUNSET FLIP! He's trying to bring down Allen! Allen's fighting it! Can Paulson get him down? Can Paulson- [Bigger pop!] JD: Down goes Allen! He got him! He got him! ONE!!! TWO!!! [But Allen brings his feet together, clapping the ears of Barry Paulson to break the pin attempt before the three count.] JD: Not enough to hold the King of Old School down but you've gotta believe that was a little too close for comfort for Garry Allen! [Racing to get to his feet first, Allen drills a rising Paulson with a right hand.] JD: Another clenched fist by Allen and the referee is reprimand- oooh! Another one! He just doesn't even care! BW: Well, now that he knows he won't get DQd for it, why should he? [A third right hand knocks Paulson down on the mat where Allen pushes him with his boot, sending him down to the floor.] JD: Down to the floor goes the man from Calgary... the referee is screaming at Allen now, desperately trying to keep it clean in there... [Recovering on the floor, Paulson tugs on the middle rope to pull himself back onto the apron where he finds Garry Allen rapidly approaching.] JD: Paulson on his feet but he looks a little wobbly... another heavy right hand by Allen! That one almost send Paulson back down on the floor. What a shot that was. Allen winds up again... [And drives yet another clenched fist home, being immediately backed away by the official as Paulson hangs onto the middle rope, trying to stay on his feet.] JD: He's in trouble here... Allen moving in yet again... BW: He's rearin' waaaay back this time, daddy! [As he approaches, Allen throws a huge haymaker that drills Paulson in the side of the head, causing him to fall back off the apron, the back of his head _slamming_ into the concrete floor!] JD: Ohhhh! BW: That's a good way to get yerself a concussion! JD: I wouldn't be surprised at all. Barry Paulson's head hit the concrete with a sickening thud... just sickening! And look at Garry Allen, simply backing away and telling the referee to start a ten count. [The referee leans over the ropes, starting his count.] JD: The fans are rooting Barry Paulson on, trying to get him up to his feet. BW: Ain't gonna happen! He's done, baby! JD: Come on, Barry! BW: What happened to dat unbiasedness you were talkin' 'bout? [As the count reaches three, Paulson rolls to his side, immediately running a hand over the back of his head.] JD: Signs of life from the Canadian! BW: Can someone shut dese fans up? JD: They're giving a second wind to Barry Paulson! They're pulling him back to his feet! [The count hits five when Paulson pushes off the floor, staggering towards the apron.] JD: He's gonna make it, Bucky... no question that- now where's Allen going? [Annoyed at Paulson's recovery, Allen slides out to the floor where he grabs Paulson by the hair... ...and _drives_ him skullfirst into the ringpost!] JD: Ohhhhhhh! Brutal! Absolutely brutal, Bucky Wilde! BW: Garry Allen is not messin' 'round here tonight, daddy. This man got on his bad side and he's payin' for it now! JD: Allen rolls back into the ring... he wants another count. BW: And I wouldn't be surprised if Paulson is split open after that. JD: Oh, I hope not. [Paulson clings to the ringpost for a moment as the referee reprimands Garry Allen.] JD: Barry Paulson barely able to stan- check that! He's pulling himself up on the apron! BW: Barely, daddy, barely. He could fall off dere at any minute. JD: He's not steady at all... you're right about that. [A wobbly Paulson grabs the top rope to steady himself, showing the world that he has not been split open... ...but that's about the best news he can give his fans as Garry Allen rushes over, hooking a front facelock on the dazed Canadian.] JD: He's got Paulson set... he's gonna bring him in the hard way... [And with a big lift, he holds Paulson for a moment and slams him down to the canvas with a vertical suplex!] JD: Big suplex brings in Pauls- cover! ONE!! TWO!! TH- [A shoulder fires off the canvas just in time to the cheers of the crowd... and to the annoyance of Garry Allen who pops up and immediately drives a boot into the sternum of the Canadian.] JD: Ohhh! Hard stomp by the King of Old School! BW: Not so self-proclaimed now, is he? JD: Perhaps not. Garry Allen is showing us why he has such a stellar reputation in this business as a competitor. Another stomp to the body of Barry Paulson. Paulson is fighting so hard to get to his feet but- [Pushing the Canadian back down and pinning him to the mat, Allen kicks up into the air and buries a knee in the ribs of Paulson. The ref moves to count but Allen simply lets him up... ...and then drops another knee into the ribs.] JD: Two big knees to the ribs of Barry Paulson. BW: Those'll take the starch out of your sails. JD: The starch out of- Allen pulling Paulson up by the hair and... abdominal stretch! [The old school fans in the crowd cheer for the seldom-seen submission hold. Allen expertly applies it, hooking his hands together around the neck of Paulson to stretch him even more.] JD: You've gotta give the King of Old School credit. He knows how to punish someone in there. BW: This guy's been studyin' tapes since he was a kid, Dane. He knows this game like a book. JD: It appears that he does. He's got that stretch locked in deep... right out in the center of the ring. I haven't seen someone submit to this hold in years but Paulson may have absolutely no choice, Bucky. BW: No choice! Ring da bell! JD: Paulson's fighting it though. Fighting away the pain as the referee is right there to check for a submission. He looks like he may be trying to get to the ropes but it would take every bit of strength left in him to- [A hard elbow to the thigh loosens the grip and allows Paulson to slip the leg free before hiptossing Allen down to the mat... ...and promptly collapsing on the canvas himself.] JD: He escaped! He escaped the stretch but how much did it take out of him?! He looks to be easy picking for Allen right now! He looks to be- hard right hand driven into the ribcage by Allen! He's still going after the body of Barry Paulson. [Climbing to his feet, Allen grabs the referee by the shirt and points at LaFoye again, screaming about her license.] JD: The referee is moving to check with LaFoye again... he didn't get to finish last time. She's going to have to leave, Bucky. There's no way she's got a manager's license to be out here. There's no- [The crowd boos as the referee moves to the ropes and Garry Allen dips into his tights behind the referee's back.] JD: What in the- he's got something... something in that hand now! I can't quite see what it is! BW: Foreign object, daddy! Old school! [We catch a glimpse of a taped object being gripped by the King of Old School as he pulls Paulson off the mat, winds up, and drills him squarely between the eyes before shoving the object back into his trunks.] JD: OHHH! Right between the eyes! Paulson dropped like a rock! And that punk Allen is calling for the referee to make the count! [The referee once again quits his harassment of Shannon LaFoye and dives to make a count.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [HUGE POP!] JD: NO! Barry Paulson got the shoulder up! BW: What?! How?! JD: I have no idea! But he survived whatever weapon that was in there! And Garry Allen is irate! [The still-covering Allen pushes off his foe, grabbing him by the hair, and drives four hard fists to the skull before shoving Paulson back down for another pin attempt.] JD: Another cover! ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [POP!] JD: Again! He gets the shoulder up again! This crowd is going nuts for Barry Paulson! [Absolutely furious now, Allen climbs to his feet, screaming at the official as he pulls Paulson off the mat by the hair, tugging him into a standing headscissors.] JD: Oh no! Are you kidding me?! This is what he tried to do to Shannon LaFoye earlier tonight! BW: Ironic, don'tcha think? JD: I most certainly- he lifts Paulson up... holding and... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JD: He spiked him! Spiked him with the piledriver! But I don't think he got all of it. Was it enough though? Another cover! [Allen curses himself for his botched execution as he applies the lateral press.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- FOOT ON THE ROPES! FOOT ON THE ROPES! BARRY PAULSON JUST SAVED HIMSELF THERE! BW: Garry should do it again! Pick 'im up and do it 'gain! JD: He might but now it's Allen who is looking a little weary... a little tired in there. [Pushing himself to his feet, Allen takes a moment to catch a breather before reaching down to pull Paulson off the mat by the hair once more.] JD: Both men are tired... both men have given it their all in there... oh no. BW: He took my advice, daddy! JD: He's got him hooked for the piledriver again! If he hits this again... cleanly this time... it's all over. It'll be all- [And suddenly, Paulson yanks Allen's legs out from under him, flipping over the top with a double leg cradle.] JD: CRADLE! CRADLE! ONE!! TWO!! THRE- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: So close! So very close right there! [But before Paulson can take advantage of the moment, Allen springs up and drops a knee down into the midsection again.] JD: Back to work on the ribs by the King of Old School! He may be going back after the body after the failed piledriver attempt. He's pulling Paulson up by the hair... front facelock applied... [And Allen slowly turns with the facelock, dropping down to snap off a perfect reverse neckbreaker.] JD: Neckbreaker! Textbook! BW: That's gotta do it, daddy! JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [POP!] JD: Not enough! Still not enough to keep the Canadian down! BW: What the hell they got in the Canadian water?! JD: Maybe it's the beer! And Garry Allen can't believe it... he absolutely can not believe it, Bucky. BW: I can't either! JD: Is he- Garry Allen's going up top! BW: This... this is a mistake, JD. This is _not_ Garry's game. He's frustrated, he's mad... and he's making a mistake. JD: You heard it, folks. Expert commentary from Bucky Wilde and Allen to the second rope... now to the top and- [POP!] JD: PAULSON'S UP! PAULSON IS- [The Canadian rears back and uncorks a right hand to the side of Allen's face... ...which promptly crotches him on the top turnbuckle!] JD: OHHHHHHH! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!! [Paulson lies on the canvas having used all of his energy to get up and deliver that one punch. Allen lies a few feet away having slumped off the ropes after his big fall.] JD: Both men are down... the referee is counting... we may have a double countout here, Bucky. BW: I sure hope not. JD: The count is at three... four... five... [An agitated Shannon LaFoye slams her arms into the canvas a few times which gets the crowd clapping their hands, trying to inspire Paulson back to his feet.] JD: The fans are behind Barry Paulson... trying to get him up before... seven... eight... ni- [POP!] JD: They're both up! They're both on their feet! [Dazed and staggered, the two men stumble towards one another when Allen connects with a hard right hand.] JD: Big right by Garry Allen... [POP!] JD: And Paulson returns fire! [Allen stumbles back but lunges forward with another right... ...and gets popped with one by the Canadian!] JD: They're trading right hands in there right now and something's gotta give! Something's got to- [A big right by Allen gets ducked and Paulson hooks him around the waist in a side waistlock, hoisting him into the air... ...and dropping him down in a sitout powerbomb!] JD: BLUE THUNDER DRIVER!! BLUE THUNDER DRIV- ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: How in the world... how in the world did Garry Allen get a shoulder up on that?! [Feeling a second wind now, Paulson climbs to his feet, pulling Allen off the mat with him.] JD: Both men up now... jab by Paulson! Another! Another! Another! Another! The ref steps in... Paulson to the ropes... [As the Canadian rebounds back, he gets met with a boot to the gut by Allen.] JD: Oh! The King caught him in the gut... DD- [POP!] JD: INSIDE CRADLE OUT OF NOWHERE!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEE!!! [DING DING DING] JD: BARRY PAULSON TAKES THE WIN WITH AN INSIDE CRAD- [And the crowd roars yet again as Shannon LaFoye dives into the ring, leaping onto the stunned Allen and begins driving forearms into his head and neck.] JD: LaFoye! LaFoye on the attack! BW: They was in cahoots, Dane! JD: Look at Barry Paulson... he can't even stand up yet! How could he- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: She kicked him low! A full-force kick to the... well... to the... BW: Right to the babymaker, daddy! [Allen falls back into the corner, sucking wind as he caresses his sore region... ...and LaFoye rolls out to the floor.] JD: What on earth is she- [POP!] JD: Shannon LaFoye's got a steel chair! What in the world is she doing?! [LaFoye slides back into the ring, grabbing the chair as she rises.] JD: Garry Allen is helpless! He can't defend himself and she's going to clean his clock with that chair! BW: This isn't right... this just ain't right. JD: Allen probably doesn't even know it's coming! She's going to cave his skull in with that chair and- [The complaining referee gets a hard forearm to the side of the head that takes him out of play as she picks up the chair once more.] JD: LaFoye's got the chair and there's no one who can stop her now! SHANNON, DON'T! [The vinyl-clad warrior rears waaaaaaay back with the steel chair, determined to drive it home into the skull of the dazed King of Old School... ...but the swing never comes as a back-on-his-feet Barry Paulson grabs the chair from LaFoye, tossing it to the mat.] JD: What the... BW: Well, I'll be ding-donged. JD: Did... did Barry Paulson just stop Shannon LaFoye from caving in the skull of the guy who he just wrestled in a brutal showdown? BW: Sure looks that way, daddy! JD: LaFoye's in shock! And I can't blame her! What in the world is going on- [And LaFoye is more than shocked... she's pissed.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Oh! What a slap by LaFoye! She slapped the taste clear out of his mouth! BW: He won't be able to taste that Canadian beer for a month! JD: LaFoye's walking out... she's furious at Paulson. She doesn't get it... I don't get it... BW: At least she only slapped him. It could've been a lot worse. [Oh, it's worse. As Paulson turns to assist the injured referee, LaFoye slides back in and retrieves the fallen steel chair...] JD: WHAT THE-?! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: RIGHT ACROSS THE BACK!! SHE DRILLED BARRY PAULSON IN THE BACK WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!! [The crowd boos... sorta. I mean, it's a hot chick with a chair. How much can you boo?] JD: And _now_ she's walking out of here. Unbelievable! BW: Mama always said not to trust anythin' that bleeds for five days and don't die. JD: Your _mama_ always said that? BW: She kept it real, daddy. JD: She named you "Buckthorn Wilde"... how real could she have kept it? I guess it could be worse. She could've named you "Oscar." BW: Who? JD: Never mind. Fans, what a shocking scene we just witnessed here in Reseda. Barry Paulson bests Garry Allen in a thrilling match. Shannon LaFoye assaults Allen after the bell and tries to use a steel chair on him. Paulson _saves_ Allen from the chairshot... but then takes one of his own from LaFoye? Incredible. BW: And we ain't even done yet, daddy! JD: That's right. Two more matches to come. Up next, we've got a big tag team showdown with "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont... calling themselves the Initial Public Offering taking on the Fabulous Falcon Brothers. I, for one, have been greatly anticipating this one, Bucky. BW: From the fryin' pan to the fire... I know the Falcons from back in Hotlanta too, daddy. JD: Well, I was actually supposed to be joined by Sunshine for this one but since you- [The familiar voice of Sunshine Stevens rings out over the PA.] "Oh, no you don't, Jason!" [And so she appears, clad in her skimpiest best, in the aisle racing towards ringside much to the enjoyment of the PWR male fans (and some of the females) who love to watch her run.] SS: This is my match to call and I'm gonna call it! JD: Well, uhh... I guess... maybe... both of you? SS: Ooooh, a three way? BW: Mmmm... I could go for that. JD: No, no, no. There will be no three way. Please. Let's... let's try and act professional please. BW: If Miss Sunshine can keep her bosoms out of sight and out of mind, I shall do my best. SS: Hehehe... he said "bosoms." JD: Mercy mercy me. Let's go back to the locker room area where I'm told Mark Stegglet is standing by. Mark? [We cut back to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet is standing.] MS: Thanks, Jason. It's been a wild and exciting night here in Resed- hey! [Suddenly, Shannon LaFoye storms into view, shoving Dane aside and snatching the mic from his hand.] SL: Paulson! You listen very closely to me. I don't need you... I don't need anyone. And if you get in my way again, you'll be the next of Michaelson's boys I challenge! [She throws the mic back at Dane, walking away.] MS: Man oh man. This place is bonkers, JD! Back to you! [We cut back to ringside where an uncomfortable-looking Jason Dane has found himself seated between Sunshine Stevens and Bucky Wilde.] SS: Look! A Jason sandwich! JD: Oh... dear. Fans, let's... let's just go up to Melissa. [A smirking Melissa Cannon grabs the mic to begin her introductions.] MC: The following contest is a tag team matchup scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first... ["Cool" by Suga Free starts up to a big pop from the PWR faithful.] MC: At a combined weight of 370 pounds... they are "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont... together they are... The Initial Public Offering! [The crowd roars as Stokes and Beaumont burst through the curtain. The speedy Stokes sprints down the aisle, diving headfirst under the ropes and springing to his feet to a huge ovation as Beaumont takes a little longer, pimpin' his way down the aisle as he picks at the large afro on his head.] MC: And their opponents... hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada... at a combined weight of 490 pounds... Shane Falcon... Ken Falcon Jr. The Fabulous Falcon Brothers! [The music changes to Journey's "Separate Ways" as the Falcons make their way into the Reseda Elks Lodge. Both men are in matching black and gold singlets and boots, ignoring the jeering fans as they stalk towards the ring, rolling under the bottom rope to glare at their opponents as Melissa Cannon makes her timely exit.] JD: The Falcon Brothers have toured all over the world since we last saw them in PWR and have made quite the name for themselves on the indy circuit as one of the top tag teams in the game. For Beaumont and Stokes, I believe this is their first time teaming together so they definitely have their work cut out for them tonight. BW: I was down in Atlanta the same time the Falcons was. They're a hell of a team, JD. SS: And cute too. JD: Sunshine, please. SS: Oh, you know I think you're cute too. Don't beg. JD: Real- err... not the point... at all. All four men are in there right now. The referee needs to get two in and two out. [We zoom in on Stokes and Beaumont in the corner, apparently discussing who will start the match.] JD: A little disagreement here already. Who's going to start this one out? [After a moment, we see Stokes put out a clenched fist at the same time Beaumont puts out an open hand. Dejected, Stokes exits the ring to the apron leaving a grinning Beaumont to turn to face Shane Falcon.] BW: Did they just play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would start the match? JD: Appeared that way. SS: Ooooh, I _love_ that game! JD: The IPO are going to be a unique team here in PWR, Bucky. They don't operate the way most teams do. BW: I should say not. [The referee calls for the bell as Beaumont and Shane Falcon begin circling one another.] JD: Here we go! Both men looking for an opening... and into a collar and elbow tieup they go! [Beaumont pushes down, trying to use his leverage advantage... but Shane uses his power edge, shoving off Beaumont who stumbles back to the corner.] JD: Some power on display by the larger of the Falcons, Shane. He muscled Beaumont away with that one. [Shane curls an arm up into a single bicep pose, smirking at Beaumont as he does so.] "Too small, son!" [The crowd "ooooos" as Beaumont waves Shane off and strikes a double bicep pose of his own.] JD: Errr. SS: Those look like Q-Tips! Hehehe! JD: Yeah, Bling Bling Beaumont certainly can not match up physiquewise with Shane Falcon. [Falcon chuckles at the pose and then quickly ties up with Beaumont once more, turning him once... ...and shoving him violently down to the mat.] JD: Oh, come on. This is just Shane Falcon being a bully now. We get it. You're stronger than Beaumont. Why don't you try wrestling now? BW: It's all part of da game, daddy... all part of da game. [Beaumont kneels on the mat for a second, a little shaken by the pushdown as a few fans get on the case of Shane Falcon.] JD: The fans are cheering Beaumont on. He's a fan favorite anywhere and everywhere he goes but nowhere more than here in Los Angeles. He's back on his feet now... another tie- no, quick go-behind into a rear waistlock by Beaumont! [Shane Falcon immediately sprawls out, trying to keep his balance as Beaumont tries to control him with the waistlock. Grabbing the wrists of his attacker, Shane Falcon controls the hold for a moment, then slips free into a go-behind of his own, slapping on the rear waistlock only to hoist Beaumont into the air, taking him down chestfirst to the mat.] JD: Nice takedown by Shane Falcon... he floats over into a front facelock now, really cranking on the neck of Bling Bling Beaum- and now Beaumont pushes up to his feet. He doesn't want to stay down on the mat with those big arms wrapped around his neck. SS: Doesn't sound so bad to me. JD: Both men back to their feet... Beaumont backs him to the ropes. The ref calls for a break and- [Shane Falcon breaks his grip, immediately grabbing the arm of Beaumont and hiptossing him down to the mat before applying a rear chinlock.] JD: Into a rear chinlock on the mat now. The Falcons know that Beaumont and Stokes have a tremendous speed advantage so they want to take that option out of the playbook before it even happens. BW: But again, Beaumont knows they's tryin' to wear him down. He pushes right back to his feet, turnin' aways from the pressure. [Beaumont hurls Shane Falcon into the ropes, breaking the headlock.] JD: Shane off the ropes... ohh! Big shoulder tackle takes Beaumont down to the mat! [The LA native springs back up though as Shane hits the ropes again... ...and again floors him with a big tackle.] JD: Former football players as well were both Falcons and that tackling skill is on display so far in this one. Shane to the ropes aga- dropdown by Beaumont... Shane off the far side and- [A big cheer goes up as Beaumont hooks the arm of Shane Falcon and whips him down to the mat with a leaping armdrag.] JD: Big armdrag by Beaumont! Both men back up... and Beaumont catches him in the gut with a solid boot. [Grabbing the arm of Shane Falcon, Beaumont interlocks his left hand with Falcon's right hand... ...and then delivers a hard openhand slap to the chest of Falcon.] JD: Ohhhh! Big overhand chop by Blingman. SS: Really? The Blingman? JD: No good? SS: I'd work on that one. [Hands still tied together, Beaumont races across the ring, climbing the ropes in the middle of the ring, dropping down to allow the back of his legs to spring off the ropes, flipping him in a somersault to add more pressure to the arm... ...and then dropping down in another armdrag!] JD: The crowd liked that one, Bucky. BW: It was flashy, flippy doodah. JD: Dood- Shane backed to the corner... here comes Beaumont! [A big running Yakuza kick to the corner comes up empty as Shane Falcon ducks underneath it, rolling out of the way... ...and _drilling_ a turning Beaumont with a running back elbow, knocking him back to the buckles.] JD: Back to the corner is Beaumont this time.. dazed from the elbow... [Grabbing Beaumont by the hair, Shane Falcon pulls him out of the corner, cocking back the other arm.] JD: Big clothesli- ducked by Beaumont! [And the big man deadleaps into the air, snaring Falcon by the head and snapping him down in a rana.] JD: Headscissors takedown by Beaumont... and Shane's quickly back to his feet... [And quickly right back off them as Beaumont springs up, popping Shane Falcon in the jaw with a leg lariat.] JD: Down goes Shane again! The former M-DOJO student's got him reeling! A cover! [The ref drops down and delivers a two count before Shane Falcon powers out.] JD: Not enough to keep him grounded for a three... and now it's Beaumont slapping on a front facelock, apparently trying to wear down the bigger opponent. BW: He's draggin' him up though... goin' to the corner... [Where a waiting Shannon Stokes happily makes the tag before scampering to the top rope, leaping off to bury a right hand into the exposed ribcage of Shane Falcon.] JD: Nice shot by Stokes! He's perhaps the fastest man in the business. BW: Don't believe that hype neither, Dane. JD: You'll see. Stokes backs him to the ropes... big whip... [And the Supersonic one floors Shane Falcon with a leaping back elbow that catches the Las Vegas native squarely under the jaw.] JD: Down goes Shane Falcon... Stokes right back to his feet... [Where he waits until Shane Falcon staggers up and gets caught with a leaping leg lariat that takes him off his feet again.] JD: I think the Falcons are a little surprised here, Bucky. There's no way Shane Falcon expected to be manhandled like this in the early moments of this one and you know Ken Jr. didn't see it coming either. BW: Don't you worry about it, Dane. The tide'll be a-turnin' quicker than a cricker on a hotplate. JD: Cricket on a- Stokes pulls his opponent off the mat... big forearm shot! And another puts Shane back against the ropes again. [Grabbing the arm, Stokes attempts to fire his foe off to the ropes but Falcon twists the arm of his foe, holding his ground and not going to the ropes. Instead, he drops down into a drop toehold that sends Stokes' throat slamming into the middle rope.] JD: Ohhh! The windpipe hits that steel cable and- [Ken Falcon Jr. takes a few steps down the apron and buries his boot into the temple of Stokes.] JD: Cheap shot by Ken Falcon Jr... Shane's got him hooked... and snaps him down to the mat with a side Russian legsweep! [Reeling a bit, Shane Falcon slaps the hand of his brother who slingshots over the ropes, coming down with both feet squarely in the sternum of a downed Shannon Stokes.] JD: OHHH! Big slingshot doublestomp! And there's a cover! One! Two! Nope. Stokes slips a shoulder up. BW: Stokes' liver may be pokin' out his kidney right now, daddy. That was a vicious move. SS: The liver bone's connected to the... kidney bone? BW: Somethin' like dat, my dear. [Pulling Stokes off the mat, Ken Falcon Jr. connects with a hard headbutt that knocks Stokes back into the corner.] JD: That'll kill a few brain cells. BW: On which one of 'em? JD: Good point. Backed into the corner... oh! Back elbow by Ken! And another! The ref's ordering him out of the corner, trying to get him to- [Ken Falcon Jr. throws up his hands, turning away from the corner... ...but doing a full 360 before rocking the pectorals of Stokes with a hard chop that knocks him to a knee.] JD: Goodness! What a chop delivered by Ken Falcon Jr... and he pulls Stokes from the buckles, arguing with the official. [He quickly hooks Stokes, snapping him over with a suplex and floating right into a lateral press.] JD: Cover by Ken Jr. One! Two! Nope! Stokes is hanging on... and Ken Falcon Jr. takes a quick peek at Beaumont to make sure there's no interference coming. BW: Very, very smart. I bet you won't give him credit for that one neither. JD: Ken Jr. looks a little annoyed at the official, climbing to his feet and pulling Stokes off the mat as well. Drags him back to the corner and there's the exchange back to Shane. Big whip... dropdown by Ken Jr and- [The crowd pops reluctantly as Shane Falcon connects with a crushing back elbow that takes Stokes down and allows an easy cover.] JD: One! Two! No! Shannon Stokes is showing just how much they underestimated he and Beaumont. Falcon seems pretty annoyed at our official as well, really letting him hear it after every pin attempt. BW: The count does seem a little slow, Dane. SS: I could count faster! Maybe I could referee next month! JD: Oh lord. [Dragging Stokes off the mat by the hair, Shane Falcon drills him with a backhand chop that knocks him back to the ropes. The young Stokes covers his chest with one arm, trying to protect himself by Shane jerks the arm out of the way and blasts him with another backhand chop across the pectorals.] JD: Good grief! Another hard shot by Shane Falcon! [But nowhere near as hard as when Falcon rears back and blasts Stokes with an overhand chop that knocks him down to a knee, leaving a huge red welt on the chest of Stokes.] JD: Ohhhhh! What a shot! BW: Sounded like a dadblamed cannon, daddy! JD: Stokes down to a knee, trying to recover... but there's no rest for the weary as Shane pulls him up again. Big whip... [And steamrolls Stokes with a running clothesline!] JD: Big clothesline connects... we've got a cover of one... two... t- no! Shoulder up again! [The fans cheer and Falcon shows three fingers to the referee demanding a faster count.] JD: Stokes dragged off the mat again... another whip... [But as the speedy Stokes rebounds this time, he manages to duck the clothesline attempt and rebound with a perfect dropkick to the jaw!] JD: Yeah! Big dropkick on target... and now Stokes is crawling... [Pop!] JD: He makes the tag to Beaumont! [Climbing to his feet, Stokes quickly grabs Shane Falcon, hoisting him up and bringing him down in a backbreaker across the knee... ...which sets him up perfectly as Beaumont deadleaps to the top rope, dropping in a near splits, and rebounding back with a moonsault across the chest of the across-the-knee Falcon! Big pop!] JD: SPLIT LEGGED MOONSAULT CONNECTS! ONE!! TWO!! TH- [But Shane Falcon slips a shoulder up.] JD: Falcon escapes. And Ken Falcon Jr. was on his way to make the save anyways. Very quick reaction by Ken Jr. and that's going to be a problem for the IPO. Beaumont's in control for the moment however and that gives Stokes some time to recover out on the apron. [Beaumont points a threatening finger at Ken Jr., threatening a backhand as Shane Falcon slowly regains his feet.] JD: Shane's back up... Beaumont scoops him up from the side... and _down_ across the knee with another backbreaker! One! Two! T- nope... no cigar. [The man from Hollywood quickly pops up, dropping a big elbow down into the kidneys of Shane Falcon.] JD: Beaumont continuing the assault on the lower back. Perhaps that's the strategy of the IPO? BW: I don't think they got a strategy, daddy. These two just came out here to be flashy and hope for the best. There's no gameplan involved. JD: You may be right. Another big elbow to the lower back. Beaumont pulls him up into a front facelock, backing to the corner... and a tag to Stokes. SS: That seems kinda soon, Jason. Doesn't he need more time to recover? JD: I would think so as well. [But Stokes certainly acts fresh as he climbs into the ring, driving a boot up into the ribcage of Shane Falcon.] JD: Big boot to the ribs. They're going after the torso of Shane Falcon... maybe seeing that as the weak point on the big man. [As Falcon staggers away, Stokes pursues and blisters his chest with a chop.] JD: Whooo! Big chop by the Supersonic One... and he's got Shane Falcon reeling. He winds up... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Another big chop connects! Backed into the ropes yet again... Stokes with a whi- reversed by Falcon! [As Stokes rebounds off the ropes, Falcon goes for a wild swinging clothesline but the speedy Stokes ducks underneath the blow, rebounding off the far side where he leaps into the air.] JD: Satellite headscissors! Round and round and round he goes and- [POP!] JD: INTO A SUBMISSION! He's got the neck scissored with his legs and he's yanking back on the arm! This could be trouble for Shane Falcon! [Crying out in pain, Shane Falcon drops down to a knee, trying to find a way out of the painful version of the Octopus.] JD: We saw an abdominal stretch in our last match and now we're seeing the Octopus! [Rising back to his feet, Shane staggers forward and grabs the ropes with his free hand.] JD: Shane to the ropes... the ref is calling for a break... [And break Stokes does, sliding quickly from the Octopus variation into a schoolboy rollup.] JD: Nicely done! One! Two! Nope. Shane Falcon out of there. Not enough to keep a big guy like him down yet. [Stokes scampers to his feet, trying to keep the advantage as he blasts Shane in the cheek with a forearm shot.] JD: Forearm blow delivered by Stokes. Not a lot behind those but still effective. A second forearm blow knocks Falcon back into the ropes again. Stokes grabs the arm... another whi- no, another reversal! [The speedy man from Colton, California is hurled to the ropes... ...where a boot to the back of the head is provided by Ken Falcon Jr., staggering Stokes who falls forward into the waiting arms of Shane Falcon.] JD: Shane's got him... LIFTS! [The crowd gasps as Falcon hurls Stokes straight up... ...and then _spikes_ him down to the canvas with a standing spinebuster!] JD: OHHHH MY! What a spinebuster slam by Shane Falcon! BW: Now _that's_ power, daddy. JD: It certainly is. Shannon Stokes had everything going his way and just like that it's all crashed back down to Earth. Falcon is dazed otherwise I think he might be able to get a three count off that. That had to knock the wind out of Shannon Stokes. SS: He's kinda rude though. JD: Shannon? SS: Yeah. If he was gonna be way up there, couldn't he have changed the lightbulbs for us? BW: Looks _and_ a sense of humor? Oh, I'm smitten, Dane... smitten. JD: Would you two like to be alone? [With Stokes down, Shane Falcon hooks him around the knees for a catapult and yells out, "boot!" as he drops back, leveraging Stokes to sail into the corner where Ken Falcon Jr. has placed his boot to jam into the face of Stokes.] JD: Ohhh! Nice doubleteam by the Falc- oh come on! [The crowd boos as Shane races across the ring and drives a forearm into Beaumont, knocking him off the apron... ...and then charges back the other way with a corner splash, driving the kneeling Stokes' face into the midbuckle.] JD: Good grief. High impact offense on display by the Falcons tonight and Shannon Stokes is wishing he had a little longer on the apron right about now, I'd wager. There's a tag... the exchange made with Ken Falcon Jr. Ken steps in now... Stokes is pulling himself to his feet with the aid of the ropes. [Facing the corner, Stokes does not catch a glimpse of Ken Falcon Jr. before being hooked in a side waistlock, hoisted in the air, and dropped down on the canvas with a belly to back suplex.] JD: Big suplex by Ken Jr! Cover! One! Two! Thr- no! Stokes still got a shoulder up! [Stokes immediately starts crawling for the corner... ...but gets cut short when Ken leaps into the air, dropping a knee across the back of the head.] JD: That'll stop the attempt to get to the corner for now. The Falcons are doing a terrific job of isolating Shannon Stokes inside that ring and working him over. They've kept the fresh man out and have done so in impressive fashion. BW: Improved a lot since you last saw 'em? JD: Absolutely. They were fantastic when they were here... but very raw. Now they've got the polish of a championship-caliber team. Ken off the ropes... ohhhh! Big leaping kneedrop to the chest! [Ken Falcon Jr. smirks as he climbs to his feet, reaching up to slap the hand of his brother as he yanks Stokes off the mat.] JD: Both Falcons in once more... double whip... [Both Falcons drop down into a three point stance and _obliterate_ the rebounding Stokes with a double running tackle.] JD: Ohhhhh! BW: They's puttin' their football skills to good use, daddy! SS: Ooooh! They play football too?! That's hot. JD: Shane with a cover... one! Two! Thr- [Pop!] JD: Still not enough to keep Stokes down. The kid is showing great heart here tonight in Reseda, fans. He's taken everything the Falcons can throw at him and he just keeps coming for more. BW: Not like he has a choice. JD: He could quit... he could give it up and take the pin. Shane Falcon pulls him off the mat... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Chop by Stokes! He's trying to fight back! He's- [But a clubbing forearm to the back of the neck puts Stokes back in control as the crowd deflates.] JD: Front facelock applied by Shane, dragging Shannon back to the corner... and another exchange with brother Ken. The referee trying to keep the double teams under control but- what on earth are they doing here? [Shane hoists Stokes up for a suplex but sets his legs down on the shoulders of Ken Jr., leaving Stokes facing down between them... ...and then both Falcons suddenly shove Stokes as high as they can in the air, letting him hang high above the ring for a moment before crashing to the canvas with a thud!] JD: Ken Jr. with a cover! ONE!!! TWO!! THRE- NO!!! [The crowd roars for Stokes as he continues to battle. Ken Falcon Jr. points an accusing finger at Beaumont who was halfway across the ring when the kickout occurred. The ref moves to force Beaumont from the ring as Ken pulls a limp Stokes off the mat by the hair.] JD: Ken's got Stokes right where he wants him, backed to the corner once again... ohhh! Big chop by Falcon! [He spins and drives an overhand chop to the chest as well.] JD: Good grief! [Grabbing Stokes by the arm, he fires him across the ring to the opposite corner.] JD: Here comes Falcon! [But at the last moment, Stokes kips up in the air, hooking a headscissors... ...and snapping Ken Falcon Jr. down to the canvas! Pop!] JD: Counter! And Stokes needs to make the tag! He desperately needs to- [Ken Falcon Jr. quickly recovers, sprinting towards the rising Stokes... ...and catches Falcon, spins with him, and _plants_ him with a spinebuster!] JD: SPINEBUSTER! SPINEBUSTER BY STOKES!! He needs to make the tag now, Bucky! BW: He doesn't even know where he is, Dane. There ain't no chance that- [BIG POP!] JD: DIVING TAG BY STOKES!!! [Across the ring, Ken Falcon tags in Shane who sprints in... ...and gets drilled in the jaw with a leaping dropkick by a fresh Bling Bling Beaumont!] JD: Dropkick on Shane! He caught him right under the- [Pop!] JD: And a drop toehold takes down Ken Jr! He tried a sneak attack and got caugh- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: Ohhh! Big chop by Shane backs Beaumont to the ropes! And another one! Irish whip... [And as Beaumont rebounds, Shane hurls him skyward in a spinebuster attempt... ...and gets caught with two feet squarely in the chops!] JD: DROPKICK COUNTER!! BEAUMONT COUNTERED THE SPINEBUSTER! [Popping back to his feet with the crowd roaring, Beaumont is greeting by an attacking Ken Jr.] JD: Right han- blocked by Beaumont... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: BACK HAND!! THE PIMP SLAP!!! [With Ken Jr. dazed, Beaumont hooks a front facelock, races up the ropes, spins through the air, and _spikes_ him headfirst into the canvas with a tornado DDT!] JD: Ohhhhh yeah! Ken Jr got planted and he's gone! He's out to the floor! BW: Uh oh... clear the runway, daddy! JD: Beaumont's lookin' to fly! [A hard boot knocks Ken Jr. towards the fans as Beaumont grips the top rope, ready to slingshot to the floor... ...but a forearm to the back by Shane Falcon breaks it up.] JD: These fans are upset. They wanted to see the dive! And Shane with a pair of knees to the lower back, working over Beaum- [POP!] JD: STOKES! STOKES! [Shannon Stokes starts flailing away with rights and lefts at the back of Shane Falcon, allowing Beaumont to roll under the ropes to escape the attack.] JD: I can not believe Shannon Stokes is back in this fight! [A pair of forearms knocks Shane Falcon back to the ropes.] JD: Big whip... clothesli- ducked by Falcon... OHHHHH! [A running boot the side of the head knocks Stokes through the ropes and down to the floor. A few feet away, Beaumont drills Ken Jr. with an overhand chop and then slams his head into an open plastic chair in the crowd before rolling back into the ring.] JD: Stokes is out on the floor. Ken Jr. is in the crowd. Shane and Beaumont are back in. SS: Are they the legal men? JD: You know what a legal man is? SS: After the lawsuit over the 15 year old, I'd better! [Shane Falcon, in the meantime, has dropped off the apron to the floor where he is kicking a prone Shannon Stokes.] JD: Beaumont's alone in the ring... he's... oh my god! [Beaumont deadleaps to the top rope, turning away from the crowd as he does so, and backflips off in a picture perfect moonsault onto a stunned Shane Falcon!] JD: AAAAABUUUUNAAAAAAI! BW: What a dive to the floor! All hell has broken loose in here! JD: All four men are out on the floor. I can't even believe that- would you look at that?! Bling Bling Beaumont is the first to his feet! [Clutching his ribs, Beaumont soaks up the cheers of the crowd as he stumbles through the scattered chairs, climbing back up onto the ring apron.] JD: Beaumont's hurting but he's back up on the apron. What on earth does he plan on doing now? [Still holding his ribs, Beaumont is oblivious to Ken Falcon Jr. who slides in, dashes across the ring, leaps _over_ the ropes and snares Beaumont in a rana that snaps him down to the floor!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: Are you kidding me?! What in the world are we witnessing here tonight in Reseda?! BW: We got bodies everywhere, daddy! It's like an RV overturned on I-95! JD: Who's going to recover first?! Who in the world can possibly recov- [Heel pop!] JD: It's Shane Falcon! Shane Falcon is the first one to his feet... and he's throwing Beaumont back into the ring. BW: Still the legal men! JD: Shane Falcon in there with Beaumont... what the- [The crowd gasps in awe as Falcon military presses Beaumont into the air, turning once for the crowd to see... ...and then drops him down into a fireman's carry, _planting_ him with a Death Valley Driver in one motion!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: DEATH VALLEY- ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THRE- [MASSIVE POP!] JD: KICKOUT!! KICKOUT!! MY GOD, HE KICKED OUT!!! BW: What in the Sam Hell is it gonna take to finish this sumbitch off, daddy?! SS: Sam Hell! That guy sucked! JD: Shane can't believe it... he's on his feet... and he makes a tag to Ken Jr! [Ken Falcon Jr. steps in, yanking Beaumont off the mat and hooking him in a half nelson. The crowd buzzes with anticipation.] JD: Half nelson suplex?! BW: If he hits this, it's over, daddy! JD: I thought it was over a long time ago! [Beaumont fights the lift, driving his elbow down into the side of the head... once... twice... three times breaks the hold.] JD: Beaumont frees himself... to the ropes... clothesli- [But Falcon ducks the clothesline, reapplying the half nelson.] JD: SUPLE- [BIG POP!] JD: Beaumont backflipped out of it! He landed on his feet... [POP!] JD: TAG TO STOKES!! STOKES LEAPS TO THE TOP!! CLOTHESLIIIIIII- [But the springboard clothesline is cut short as Ken Falcon Jr. sidesteps, hooks the half nelson, and _dumps_ Stokes on top of his head and neck.] JD: OHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOOOD!!! ONE!!!! TWO!!! THRE- NOOOO! BEAUMONT BREAKS THE PIN!!! BW: I don't know if that does Stokes any favors, baby. He may have a concussion after that! SS: Or worse! [Shane Falcon races into the ring, pulling Beaumont off the mat and hurling him out to the floor.] JD: There goes Beaumont. Ken Jr. and Stokes are the legal men... Ken Jr pulls Stokes up... oh no, what is he going to-? [The crowd buzzes as Ken Jr. hoists Stokes up into a crucifix powerbomb position... ...and as he brings him down to spike him home, Shane leaps into the air to apply a reverse neckbreaker at the same time!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: That's it! That's gotta be it! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [POP!] JD: AGAIN! BEAUMONT MAKES THE SAVE AGAIN!! [And as the referee escorts him out, Ken Jr. tags in Shane who promptly waves for Ken Jr. to springboard.] JD: What the hell is this? Shane's got Stokes up on his shoulders... Ken Jr. on the apron... SPRINGBOARD!!! [But the clothesline aimed for Stokes comes up empty, causing Ken Jr. to tumble all the way to the floor as Stokes deftly avoids it by turning the electric chair lift into a victory roll.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- And now it's Shane Falcon who narrowly avoids the pinfall!! What a match! [Shane Falcon wobbles to the corner where his brother is nowhere to be found. He leans against the buckles sucking wind as Stokes battles up, charging the corner with a Tiger Wall flip... ...and drives the back of his foot into Shane's skull with a kick!] JD: TIGER WALL FLIP KICK!!! OHHH MY!!! [Stokes front rolls across the ring and lunges to tag in Beaumont who quickly goes up top as Shane Falcon staggers from his corner... ...and the crazed Beaumont _hurls_ himself across the ring with a breathtaking crossbody block!] JD: MY GOD!! HALFWAY ACROSS THE RING!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- NOOOOO! He can't hold Shane Falcon down! [Beaumont pumps his arms as he pulls Shane Falcon off the mat once more and makes the tag, hoisting up Shane and slamming him down to the mat near the corner... then pointing for Stokes to go up top.] JD: Stokes is going up top! If he's going for the Burning Flame, this could be all she wrote! If he hits the- [Ken Falcon Jr. pulls himself into the ring, sprinting across and _drilling_ Beaumont in the back with a leaping double knee that sends him crashing into the ropes which crotches Stokes up top.] JD: Ken broke up whatever Stokes was going for there... ohhh! Big chop on Beaumont... ohhhh! He hurls him over the top to the floor! And he's going out after- [Grabbing the top rope, Ken Falcon Jr. leaps to the top rope, springing off...] JD: SHOOTING STAAAAAARRRR!!!! "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The roar of the crowd is deafening as Ken Falcon Jr. puts his body on the line with a springboard Shooting Star Press to the floor that wipes out Bling Bling Beaumont as well as several rows of ringside seats.] JD: They're out of it! There's no way either of them are getting back into this! [With Stokes crotched, Shane Falcon quickly scales the corner.] JD: He's... it looks like he's going for a superplex! He's got Stokes hooked up there on the top! He's got him set up for it! [The powerful Falcon lifts Stokes into the air, pausing in mid-lift to show off his power.] JD: A delayed superplex?! BW: Look at the strength, Dane! Look at the power, daddy! [But suddenly, the strength fails as Stokes lashes out with a pair of knees to the top of the head, flipping over the top of Shane Falcon and landing on his feet on the canvas behind him... ...where he immediately deadleaps straight up in the air, hooks Shane around the head, and _spikes_ him with a reverse rana!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: DID YOU SEE THAT?! DID YOU SEE- ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! [DING DING DING] MC: Your winners of the match... the team of Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont... I.P.O [The crowd roars, coming to their feet in a standing ovation for the match they just witnessed.] JD: Un-be-lievable! I cannot believe what we just witnessed. What a match... what a battle. These two tag teams put it all on the line as they wanted to make the big impression on PWR's return to wrestling. And we heard Stokes and Beaumont earlier tonight explaining how much PWR means to them... and they just proved it. BW: Take absolutely nothin' away from the Falcons though. JD: Not at all. A brilliant performance by both teams. My god... what a war that was. I don't even know if Stokes and Beaumont know they've won. And the Falcons are laid out as well. This crowd is still standing! Still cheering on all four men for the incredible effort we just witnessed. Fans, wow... we're going to get some help out here for these teams... Mark Stegglet? I know you can't top that, buddy! [We cut to the hallway where Mark Stegglet is standing.] MS: I don't know if anyone can top that, Jason! Holy cow, what a night we've had here in Reseda and we've still got our main event to come as Kolya Sudakov, the Pro Wrestler Hunter/Killer from the MMA world does battle with former World Champion and PWR Owner Todd Michaelson. It doesn't get any bigger than that. However, going back to the tag team showdown we just witnessed, I do have some news regarding the PWR Tag Team Division. I have just been informed that PWR will be operating it's tag division under a point system where for a team to challenge for the World Tag Team Titles, they must secure three consecutive victories to be given that opportunity. Under no circumstances can any team challenge that has not won three straight matches. Also, if you win two and lose the third, you lose your points and go back to zero to start over. Based off tonight's results, the just-victorious team of Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont now have one point which becomes very important with the news that PWR officials have decided that in lieu of a tournament, the tag team title will be awarded to the winner of a match contested between the first two teams to reach the three point barrier. [Stegget grins.] MS: So, you can bet with that news the tag teams will be lining up to get scheduled for next month's show! Back to you for our main event, JD! [We cut back to the ringside area where we find Jason Dane seated alone.] JD: Thanks, Mark. Some interesting news there for sure. Well, fans... as you can see, I'm finally all alone out here to call the main event so hopefully it'll stay that way and I can actually get some work done. Earlier tonight, we saw Todd Michaelson, the owner of this company, come to the ring to welcome all the fans back and re-introduce Pro Wrestling Revolution to the world. Ben Waterson, a former PWR competitor now turned "agent-to-the-stars" saw fit to interrupt him and deride PWR and Michaelson. That situation got turned up a notch when Waterson revealed his protege Kolya Sudakov, a world class MMA fighter turned pro wrestler, to the PWR fans. Michaelson challenged Sudakov for the main event and here we are. Fans, this is going to be something very special, I believe. Let's go up to Melissa! [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon, looking slightly nervous, begins the introductions.] MC: The following contest is our MAIN EVENT of the evening! [Pop! The Soviet National Anthem booms out over the PA system.] JD: Here comes the powerful Russian. [A few moments pass before the curtain parts and Ben Waterson steps through. The fans immediately boo the well-dressed man as he basically ignores them all. He speaks a few words into the Bluetooth earpiece tucked in his ear and then steps to the side, gesturing to the curtain. A couple seconds pass before the curtain parts again and the mighty Russian steps into view. Kolya Sudakov is a fighting machine and looks the part. His closely shaved hair covering his head is a fearsome departure from his former flat top type haircut. His eyes are locked on the ring, showing complete focus as he hops back and forth from foot to foot, keeping loose. He already has a pretty heavy sweat going thanks to a vigorous prematch workout. His red and black trunks have the Soviet flag across the ass, prominently displaying the hammer and sickle of that former nation.] JD: Looks like someone's trapped in the Cold War... yet uses a money-grubbing leech of an agent. Quite the disconnect of logic there, fans. [Thanks for the economic analysis of the situation, Jason. Waterson walks up the steel steps, sitting on the middle rope to hold them open for his charge. Sudakov steps into the ring, raising both arms to soak up the jeers of the crowd. Once in the ring, we notice he's sporting no boots on his feet at all, opting for bare feet. He also is wearing very thin fingerless gloves.] JD: I understand he petitioned to wear MMA gloves and was turned down by... well, Todd Michaelson. So, he'll be going bare knuckled in there... sorta. [Sudakov backs to the corner, rolling his neck to stay loose. Waterson stands next to him, delivering some last minute instructions. The music very suddenly changes to "The Ecstacy of Gold" by Ennio Morricone. The song slowly builds, the crowd buzzing with anticipation for the man whose entrance it signifies. Waterson looks around with annoyance at the buzzing fans, shouting a few words of derision in their direction. And as the vocals start on the song, Todd Michaelson walks into view to a massive ovation. Michaelson is sporting his usual green and white singlet. He has the straps already pulled down on this night so that his upper torso is exposed. The green and white coloring is matched on his boots, kneepads, and elbowpads as he walks the aisle, eyes locked on Sudakov.] JD: Todd Michaelson is heading to the ring for perhaps the most dangerous man he has faced in several years, fans. He competed late last year in the Sky's The Limit tournament... an event he was doing very well in until the promoter apparently ran out of money and cancelled the rest of the event after only one night of action. But in that event, he faced no one the level of Kolya Sudakov. Waterson is a master of hype but in this instance, he's right. Sudakov is a dangerous, dangerous competitor. He dominated the world of Mixed Martial Arts and has been very impressive in pro wrestling as well. He's still fairly new to the pro wrestling world but he's catching on very quickly. [Michaelson reaches the ring, climbing up on the apron and stepping through the ropes where he raises one arm to a huge ovation. The music fades out as Melissa Cannon steps between the two men.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Your referee is the PWR Senior Official, Mike Meekly! [The grandson of former EMWC official Moldy Meekly nods his head.] MC: Introducing first, in the corner to my left... he is accompanied to the ring by his agent, Ben Waterson... [Heel pop!] MC: Weighing in tonight at 240 pounds... fighting out of his new American home in Temecula, California... He is the Pro Wrestler Hunter/Killer... KOOOOOOOOOOOOLYAAAAAAAAA SUUUUUUUUUUDAKOV!!! [The crowd roars in hatred of the Russian shootfighter.] MC: And his opponent... in the corner to my right... he is the owner of Pro Wrestling Revolution... [Pop!] MC: Weighing in tonight at 260 pounds... he hails from Beverly Hills, California... TOOOOOOOOOOOOOODD MIIIIIIIIIIIICHAELSONNNNNNNN!!! [The crowd roars for Michaelson who doesn't even respond as he keeps his focus on his lethal opponent.] JD: There's no confusion over who the crowd is cheering for in this one... but man oh man, is this going to be something. I have to be very honest here, I'm a little concerned for Todd Michaelson. I've seen footage of Sudakov competing in both MMA and pro wrestling and he is a dangerous competitor to behold. He has been dominant in almost every promotion he's been in. [Waterson gives his final words of advice, exiting the ring to leave his warrior to business.] JD: The agent steps to the floor and we've got one hell of a showdown about to get underway here in Reseda. The referee with some words to both men, some last minute instructions to keep it clean... or as clean as it can be. And... hey! [A loud "CLUNK!" is heard as the second headset at the announce table is picked up and Mark Stegglet's voice is heard.] MS: Hey Jason... just thought I'd join you out here for some up-close expert analysis of the main event! JD: Uhhh... great? MS: That's right! I've been thinking a lot about this match over the past two hours and I think Todd's in a lot more trouble than we think. JD: How so? MS: Well, if you watched him at the Sky's The Limit or if you look at him right now for that matter, he appears to have put on a few pounds since his ideal wrestling weight. To compensate for that at TSTL, he used a lot more strikes than he usually does. Not as many slams or suplexes but a lot of elbows and forearms. JD: Okay... MS: But in there with a former MMA competitor and deadly striker like Sudakov, there's no way he'll be able to stand and throw with him, Jason! JD: Hrmm... a good point actually. MS: He's going to need to somehow take him down and keep him there. He needs to work holds, wear down the Russian, and try to keep out of range of those big strikes. JD: Mark, I have to admit... I'm surprised at that great analysis of what Michaelson's gameplan needs to be. MS: Aw, shucks... it's what I'd do on Fire Pro anyways. [You can hear Dane sigh deeply as the referee calls for the bell to start the match.] JD: This match is underway... and these fans are jacked, Mark. MS: Can you blame them? It's rare that we get to see the boss step into the ring anymore and even rarer it's against someone who might legitimately cripple him. My Uncle Jon's gonna be steamed when he finds out. JD: I know someone who's not pleased either. [With the fans already in the midst of a rally clap, Michaelson slowly edges out of the corner.] JD: Todd's going to be very cautious in this one, I think. He's a high kick away from being knocked out cold and he knows it. MS: Sudakov doesn't waste any energy... but he also doesn't waste much time. If you've followed his MMA career at all, he's got several sub-one minute KO victories. JD: Seriously? Good grief. [Proving Stegglet right, Sudakov marches out of the corner, tired of waiting for Michaelson who was starting to circle.] JD: Here we go! Batten down the hatches, baby! [As the dangerous Sudakov approaches, Michaelson drops down and shoots in for a double leg takedown.] JD: Double leg... sprawl by Sudakov to avoid it! [Sudakov immediately shows off his MMA skills by stuffing the takedown attempt, pushing Michaelson down to the mat where he immediately starts raining down right hands to the ribcage.] JD: Sudakov's pummeling him from the top, pushing Todd down and driving in shots to the ribs. MS: And that sprawl just demonstrates how much work Todd's got out for him in this one. I mean, Sudakov has competed against world-class... like Olympian caliber wrestlers... he knows how to fight a takedown attempt as well. No strikes, tough takedowns, Todd is going to have a big fight on his hands here in the Elks Lodge. JD: In case you haven't noticed, he's in the middle of that tough fight just being battered by Sudakov. [The ref steps in for a moment, backing Sudakov away and trying to warn against the clenched fists.] JD: No clenched fists in pro wrestling... very different than MMA for Sudakov in that respect... [Sudakov sneers at Meekly before shoving him aside. Big heel pop!] MS: He needs to watch that. In any sport, physically abusing the referee is grounds for disqualification. JD: You've got that right. Meekly's warning him of that right now. [Ignoring the referee's cries, Sudakov steps to the side of Michaelson. You can hear Waterson screaming, "SOCCER KICK! SOCCER KICK!"] JD: Uh oh. [Sudakov steps forward, pulling back the leg with the intent of booting the PWR Owner in the temple... ...but Michaelson wisely rolls out to the floor, avoiding the kick before it even comes.] JD: Whew. Close one. MS: And if you haven't seen Sudakov in action in the past year or so, you don't know how close. The high kick is still his weapon of choice but during his time last fall in Southern Championship Wrestling, he used the soccer kick to the skull to tremendous success. JD: Michaelson's out on the floor, making sure he's got no cracked or broken ribs after all those blows to the body by Sudakov. [Waterson slides around the ring, shouting at the injured Michaelson.] "What's the matter, Toddy? Haven't been kicked by a real fighter before? Haven't been-" [Waterson cuts off short as Todd turns, looking like he might go after his former student. He shakes his head, looking up at Sudakov who is pacing the ring impatiently.] MS: This is one of those things that drives Kolya Sudakov crazy about pro wrestling, Jason. He's used to fighting in a cage or at least a ring where they won't let the opponent flee. But as you can see, Todd Michaelson ducks out here for a breather and it's got Sudakov worked up. He's pacing around the ring like a bull. JD: The ref's count is up to six... now seven. And Todd climbs back up on the apron to break it. MS: But he's not getting back in yet. [Michaelson stands on the apron, staring at Sudakov... and then waving the Russian to come and get him.] JD: I don't- MS: I think a light bulb just went off in Todd's head. JD: What do you mean? MS: He just realized that there are distinct advantages to being in a pro wrestling ring rather than an MMA ring... advantages that Sudakov likely hasn't learned to use yet and probably actually are weaknesses for him. Todd just realized what he needs to do to stand a chance with this guy. JD: What's that? MS: He needs to outsmart him... simple. [Michaelson grows irate, slapping the turnbuckle and screaming at Sudakov.] "Come get me, you son of a bitch!" [The crowd "ooooos" and Sudakov looks to start in towards him but the shouts of Ben Waterson to "hold your ground" keeps an angry Sudakov in check.] JD: He was trying to lure him over by the ropes? MS: Exactly. But it didn't work that time. Waterson was too smart for it and stopped Sudakov from falling for it. Todd's gonna have to be a little smarter thant that. JD: So, what other advantages do you have in a wrestling ring than an MMA ring? MS: I think we're going to find out tonight. [Michaelson steps back into the ring, rolling his neck to stay loose as he starts to sidestep.] JD: Todd trying to circle around... maybe get behind the Russian but Sudakov is turning right with- [The angry Russian charges in again, bullrushing the former World Champion who is caught offguard when a right cross catches him on the ear.] JD: Sudakov's on the attack! Todd covers up! [A pair of wild rights puts Michaelson on the backpedal and a stiff left jab slips between Todd's blocking arms, knocking him back into the corner.] JD: Todd falls back in the corner and that's not where he wants to be with a striker like Sudakov. MS: Not at all. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and his blocking is doing him no good. [Sudakov pursues, cutting off Michaelson's attempt to get out of the corner by throwing him back into the buckles. Michaelson immediately pulls his arms up again, covering his head... ...so Sudakov responds by snapping off a kick to the ribcage that sends a loud "CRACK!" through the Elks Lodge and causes Todd to drop his hands.] JD: The hands are down and- MS: Ohhh! What a right hand by Sudakov! [The calculating right cross knocks Todd sideways, causing him to grab the top rope to stay on his feet.] JD: Sudakov is unrelenting! Shot after shot! [The crowd buzzes with concern for Michaelson as Sudakov throws a pair of left jabs that cause Michaelson to drop his head and then scores with a huge right uppercut that snaps his head back before popping him with a straight right.] JD: The referee is inching in... he may need to stop this, Mark. MS: Todd's in serious danger here... big trouble. He needs something... anything to get some distance... JD: Mike Meekly wants to take a look, he's calling for a break... [And as soon as Sudakov reluctantly takes a step back, Michaelson shows the dirty tactics that made him a World Champion as he drives his extended thumb into the eye of the attacking Russian.] JD: Oh! Eyegouge! Cheap shot by the PWR Owner but very effective. MS: And very smart! Again, in MMA if he gouged the eye, they'd call for the fight to stop. It'd likely be over. In wresting? He gets a reprimand but they probably won't DQ him unless he does it repeatedly. He found another weapon he can use in a pro wrestling ring to stun the powerful Russian. JD: And in the early moments of this one, we've seen exactly why Kolya Sudakov is known as the Pro Wrestler Hunter/Killer. MS: In Japan, many of the top Japanese promotions since their aces... their top guys... into the MMA ring to face him and all of them... _all_ of them... got laid out, Jason. JD: Todd Michaelson may ultimately join them tonight but for now, he's going to take the fight to the Russian inside a pro wrestling ring! [Sudakov stumbles back from the corner, rubbing at his now partially-blinded eye... ...which slows him enough to allow Michaelson to lunge from the corner, ripping the Russian's legs out from under him with a big double leg takedown. Pop!] JD: TAKEDOWN! Big takedown by Michaelson! MS: This is what he needs to do, Jason... now he needs to find a way to hold him there. [With the Russian blinded on his back, Michaelson slides into a full mount and starts raining down right hands from the top.] JD: Yes! Yes! Come on, Todd! MS: He's rocking Sudakov with those right hands! [Outside the ring, Waterson slaps the canvas with both hands, screaming at Sudakov to get up. Mike Meekly steps in as well, arguing against the closed fists being used.] JD: Todd with another shot... and another... [Balling up his fist, Michaelson slams it down with a hammerfist strike and quickly follows up with a hard elbow to the face.] JD: Hammerfist to an elbow! Michaelson's showing some MMA style skills in there as well. MS: In recent years, it's become very popular amongst the boys in the back to try and incorporate some MMA in their ring aresenal. Michaelson was one of the first to start watching those MMA tapes and DVDs. JD: Which you can pick up at Psycho Driver Video today! MS: SHILL! [A pair of right hands by Michaelson forces Meekly to reprimand him once more and when Michaelson pauses to argue, he gets a right hand from Sudakov slammed into his ribcage followed by a straight left to the jaw that just barely misses the mark.] JD: Sudakov's fighting back from the bottom position. MS: Todd can only keep him down like this for so long, I think. [Sensing the same, Michaelson grabs the right arm of his opponent and attempts to scissor it.] JD: He's trying for an armbar! MS: A jujigatame... the cross armbreaker. If he locks this in, Sudakov might not have a choice but to tap. JD: Todd's trying to get his legs wrapped around the arm, he's fighting for it... [But suddenly, Sudakov manages to buck Michaelson off of him, sweeping behind him in one motion. Concerned pop!] MS: HE TOOK HIS BACK! SUDAKOV TOOK HIS BA- CHOKE!! [The crowd, especially the MMA fans in the house, gasp as Sudakov attempts to hook a rear naked choke in on the PWR Owner.] JD: He's trying for the choke... trying to hook- [Pop!] JD: No! Todd grabs the ropes! MS: Another pro wrestling advantage. Todd needs to stay near the ropes in this match as much as possible. He needs to wrestle smart and being within arm's reach of the ropes at all times is absolutely vital, I think. It'll avoid submissions... it'll avoid some striking situations. It could be the key to this match actually. JD: Sudakov reluctantly breaks the choke attempt. Waterson is screaming for him to stay on the attack. He doesn't want his man to be able to dwell on the negatives. MS: It's gotta be frustrating for Sudakov to suddenly go from one set of rules to another. Waterson is trying to keep him focused on the match and not on what would have happened under another set of rules. Smart managing by the Agent to the Stars. JD: Michaelson to a knee... the ref forcing Sudakov back to let Todd get to his feet... [While kneeling, Michaelson smirks at Sudakov who is stalking back and forth sorta like Darth Maul waiting for Qui-Gon at that dividing energy wall thing. If you don't know what I'm talking about, fuck you.] JD: Sudakov is almost too eager in there, Mark. MS: I think he _is_ too eager, Jason. I think Todd Michaelson might be able to take advantage of that. JD: How? MS: If I knew that, _I'd_ be a former World Champion, Jason. JD: Right. If you weren't 5'5 and a buck ten soaking wet perhaps. MS: I could still beat Jim Towel. [The referee steps away, waving for action.] JD: Sudakov charges in again... going for- [But as he gets within a couple feet, Todd Michaelson ducks down, placing his upper torso between the top and middle ropes. Referee Mike Meekly races into position to block Sudakov, ordering him back.] JD: Are you kidding me? MS: Todd's using the ropes again... buying some time, I guess. JD: Look at that grin on his face. What in the world is the boss up to? [Michaelson waits for a few more seconds then ducks back into the ring which is Meekly's cue to wave for action again.] JD: Here we go... Sudakov charging in again and- [And again, Todd Michaelson ducks under the ropes, causing the referee to call for a break. An irate Sudakov stomps the canvas, shoving Mike Meekly back a few steps.] JD: I don't- MS: It's brilliant! Look at how much he's getting into Sudakov's head, Jason! The mad Russian is truly going mad! JD: He does look pretty worked up. MS: He's lost all composure... all focus. Waterson is screaming at the official but Michaelson has done nothing illegal at all. It may not be sporting... it may not make for the most exciting match... but it's damn effective! JD: Michaelson is grinning like the cat that ate the canary. He just pointed to his head and these fans are finally in on the joke as well. MS: I don't know how long he can keep it up before Sudakov just ignores the referee and drills him but- JD: He ducks back out of the ropes again. [Sudakov is the one screaming this time, shouting in Russian at a smirking Michaelson who simply shrugs his shoulders and responds, "Okay, okay... let's do this."] JD: Michaelson back to business now. He's ready for Sudakov. MS: He'd better be! [Sudakov storms in, fist cocked back... ...and Michaelson ducks back through the ropes for a third time, bringing a huge cheer from the crowd and a major temper tantrum from Sudakov who peels off, kicking the turnbuckles repeatedly in rage.] JD: Good grief! Do you really want that guy that upset? MS: It could be a mistake but I think he may have Sudakov right where he wants him, Jason. JD: Todd's loving every second of this. He could just do that all night and wait out the time limit. MS: Maybe he should. Surviving against this guy might be enough of a victory. JD: Not for Todd Michaelson, I think. [Sudakov shoves Meekly aside again, storming towards Michaelson who just freed himself from the ropes... ...and somehow manages to snare a single leg, knocking Sudakov off his feet.] JD: He got him down again! MS: Sudakov was too upset! He had lost all of his poise and Michaelson just avoided the strikes and pulled him dow- JD: KNEEBAR! [POP!] JD: I think he's trying to apply a kneebar to the leg. MS: Which would be very smart. If a man can't stand, he can't kick. JD: I think someone said that earlier tonight. MS: I have it written on a poster in Japanese in my bedroom. JD: Geek. [Sudakov throws a few kicks to the body of Michaelson, trying to break his grip on the knee but the former World Champion holds steady, pulling back harder to increase the pressure. The Russian grits his teeth, looking for an escape as Waterson screams instructions.] JD: Waterson's shouting in Russian, isn't he? MS: Not sure. Sounds like... something. Maybe Huttese? JD: You... are you sure you and Jon are related? [Still gripping the leg, Michaelson drives his freehand down into the kneecap with a hammerfist.] JD: Oh! Right down on the knee! MS: And blows to the kneecap are especially dangerous. JD: Now he drives the point of the elbow down into the knee! Todd's trying to- [Finally listening to his manager, Sudakov manages to scoot back a foot or so and wrap his hand around the bottom rope.] JD: And check that out, now it's Sudakov using the pro wrestling rules to his advantage. MS: That's how good he's gotten since he joined the pro ranks, Jason. When he first debuted, he would never even think to go to the ropes like that. JD: The ref calls for a break... Todd holds til four and breaks it. [Michaelson is quickly to his feet, circling around to get behind Sudakov as he pulls himself off the mat using the ropes, obviously favoring the left knee.] JD: Todd did some damage there... that's for sure. MS: He needs to stay on that... stay on the knee. JD: He's behind Sudakov, Waterson is screaming for the Russian to- [With Sudakov barely able to put weight on the leg, Michaelson drives his boot into the leg, knocking the Russian back down to the mat.] JD: Down goes the Russian and Michaelson has brought this match down to the mat which is exactly where you predicted it needed to be for him to have any chance at success in this one. MS: Definitely. He can't trade strikes. He can't try to throw him around with suplexes. This is the best battle plan for him. JD: Michaelson goes to work, stomping the injured knee with the flat of the boot so it's completely legal. [And for the first time, the fans hear some cries of pain from the Russian as Michaelson leaps into the air, bringing all his weight down with a kneedrop on the injured limb.] JD: Ohhh! Big kneedrop on the leg and Sudakov screamed from that one, Mark! MS: That is music to Todd's ears. Look at the grin. This is exactly what he'd hoped to hear. JD: Michaelson still kneeling on the leg, pinning it down to the mat... some more punches to the leg. Simple but effective. [Getting back to his feet, Todd stomps the knee hard again... and again... and again...] JD: He's trying to stomp that knee through the mat... right through the mat... [Michaelson leaps into the air, bringing the weight down with a kneedrop once more.] JD: Another big kneedrop. Sudakov is in agony, Mark. MS: This is the perfect gameplan in effect. He just needs to keep punishing the leg. JD: Back to his feet, he's got the leg though so he's following you- spinning toehold! [With the foot in his hand, Michaelson spins around, trapping the leg and twisting it... ...and as he leans down to apply pressure, Sudakov reaches up and _blasts_ him with a right hand that causes Michaelson to crumple down to the canvas like he'd been shot!] JD: Oh.... oh my. MS: What a shot by Sudakov! A right hand out of nowhere! Just when you thought Michaelson had the match well in hand... man, what a shot that was. JD: Michaelson is out, Mark... I think he's done right here. [The referee looks a little stunned, freezing for a moment until the cries of "COUNT 'IM! COUNT!" from Ben Waterson snap him out of it.] JD: Senior official Mike Meekly starting the ten count. I think... I don't know for sure but from the way Todd's head snapped at the impact and the way he fell to the mat, you may be able to count to a hundred. MS: At the moment though, this is a double count. Sudakov is still down with that knee. JD: You are correct. A double countout may be the best option we can hope for here. [Michaelson is motionless as the count reaches three... four...] JD: Sudakov manages to drag himself off the mat. He's leaning in the corner so this is just Michaelson being counted down now. MS: And Ben Waterson looks ecstatic. I hope he brought champagne tonight. JD: Mark, I'm concerned. I haven't even seen Todd move yet. I don't even think he's- [As the count reaches seven, the crowd roars in anger as Sudakov pushes Meekly aside again, pulling a limp Michaelson off the mat.] JD: Oh, come on! There is no need for this. MS: He can't even stand, Jason. Sudakov dropped him and had to pull him back up. JD: Fans, I'm all... I'm in support of letting a match go as long as possible but I think the owner of this company is in serious physical jeopardy right now and Kolya Sudakov is looking to make that situation worse. MS: The referee may need to stop this right now. JD: I think he _definitely_ needs to stop this. This is not right... this is... this is a bad situation, fans. We need to really- MS: Oh! Sudakov hurls him back into the corner. JD: And he's moving in. Come on, referee! Don't let this get any worse! [With Michaelson's arms draped over the top rope to keep him on his feet, Sudakov drills him with a pair of blows to the ribcage then uncorks a snapping kick to the body as well.] JD: At least those are to the body. They hurt but they probably aren't- [Sudakov stuns the crowd by snapping off a right cross to the side of the head that takes Michaelson down to the mat where he slips off the apron and drops down to the concrete floor.] JD: That's gotta be it. Referee, stop this match right now. MS: I just hope it's not too late, Jason. Did you see Rocky 4? JD: That's not funny, Mark. This man is a memb- what the hell? The referee's going to start another count. MS: Waterson just ordered Sudakov to back off and let the count happen. At least this should end it. JD: Michaelson's on the floor... the count's up to two... now to three. Count faster, dammit! [The crowd counts along with the referee, cheers coming from all over the building for the downed former World Champion.] JD: These fans are supporting Todd but... there's just no chance. We need to stop this match and get him some medical attention. MS: The count is up to six... JD: Fans, we hate to have our return show end like- what the hell?! MS: Are you kidding me?! [The crowd _explodes_ as a badly battered and stunned Michaelson reaches up, using the ring apron to drag himself off the concrete floor as the ref hits the count of seven. Red swelling can be seen in the corner of his left eye but he's on his feet... and with a second tug of the ropes, he pulls himself onto the apron as the count hits eight.] JD: This is crazy! Todd, stay down! MS: The crazy fool is up! And he's ready to keep figh- JD: SUDAKOV! [The enraged Russian approaches Michaelson on the apron, reaching out to grab him... ...and getting a thumb to the eye once again.] JD: Oh! Caught him again! [And quickly hooks a clinch around the neck, dropping off the apron and snapping Sudakov's throat on the top rope strand!] JD: HE CLOTHESLINED HIM! He caught him with the rope! [A dazed Michaelson rolls in and rolls right into a lateral press.] JD: Cover! One! Two! That's it though. Nowhere near enough to- [Suddenly, Michaelson cradles the head of the downed Sudakov and starts driving his forearm and elbow into the side of the head repeatedly.] JD: FOREARMS!! FOREARMS TO THE HEAD!! MS: Michaelson's snapped! [Springing to his feet, Michaelson goes right back after the knee, stomping and kicking the kneecap as Sudakov moves it around to try and avoid the attack.] JD: He's going back to the leg.. back to- MS: He's dragging Sudakov off the mat by the tights... Sudakov can't stand on that leg... [Michaelson bends the leg, holding the foot as he hoists Sudakov off... ...and brings the ankle down on his own bent knee!] JD: Shinbreaker by Michaelson! More damage to the knee! [Still holding the leg, Michaelson hooks it under his arm and snaps to the side, whipping Sudakov back to the mat.] JD: DRAGON SCREW!! OHHH MY! MS: That can tear a knee out, Jason! And you can see the look of concern on the face of Ben Waterson! JD: His meal ticket may be about to have his knee torn off! [Michaelson climbs to his feet, still holding the leg as he drives boot after boot after boot into the side of the knee.] JD: Still working over the leg. What's he- [POP!] JD: FIGURE FOUR!! HE'S GOT IT HOOKED!! MS: In the middle of the ring! This might be it! JD: Sudakov's been in kneebars, heel hooks, all those MMA leglocks but has he felt the pain in a figure four leglock! [The cries of pain from Sudakov send the PWR faithful into a frenzy as a "TAP! TAP! TAP!" chant slowly but surely starts up.] MS: What's interesting about this is that there is a very well-known and common counter to the figure four but does someone as inexperienced as Sudakov know that counter? JD: You can hear Waterson screaming for him to roll over. If he didn't know the counter before, he may know it now. [But Sudakov instead attempts to grab the bottom rope, stretching as far as he can before recoiling in pain when Michaelson slams a fist into the knee.] JD: Sudakov hasn't even- wait, here we go... he's trying to turn it! MS: If he can turn it, Todd'll have to release it. JD: He's fighting the pressure... fighting the pain... [The crowd roars for Michaelson to keep the hold on but the cheers die out as Sudakov rolls to his stomach.] JD: Countered! And the pain shoots up the other way! MS: This is essentially a modified Indian deathlock applied now and- JD: And he's out of it. Both men out... both men down. [And with both men down, the fans find an appropriate time for a rally clap to try and cheer them to their feet.] JD: The fans are trying to get Michaelson up... trying to root him to his feet... [After a few moments, both men manage to drag themselves back to their feet.] JD: Both men up. Sudakov is noticeably favoring the leg... Todd is moving in for it... [But as Michaelson nears his opponent with a dazed expression, Sudakov straightens up and throws the big right kick.] JD: HEAD KIC- ducked! [The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief as Michaelson ducks under the dreaded high kick, rolling to the side.] JD: Too close, Mark. MS: And one look at Michaelson's face tells you the same. [The PWR Owner looks very concerned before diving forward for another takedown.] JD: Takedow- stuffed by Sudakov! What a sprawl! [And the Russian drops down to his knees, pushing Michaelson down... ...and driving his own left knee into the top of Michaelson's skull!] JD: Oh! Big knee to the skull! And another! [The crowd groans with every knee thrown to the crown of the skull.] JD: Michaelson needs to get out of there! He needs to- MS: I don't get it. JD: Sudakov just stood up... I don't get it either. He had Todd right where he- [With Michaelson on all fours in front of him, Sudakov lifts his right arm to the sky... ...and then brings it all the way down, _slamming_ the point of his elbow into the spine of the former World Champion.] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: Oh my! A hard elbow driven right down into the back. MS: Just like Tong Po in Kickboxer! JD: Would you stop with the movie references, dammit?! This is a member of my family putting his body on the line and I have to listen to you try to get yourself over with cute little one-liners! MS: ... [Sudakov looks down with an ice-cold stare at Michaelson who lies motionless on the canvas, his oft-injured back having just taken a brutal shot. The crowd has fallen to a hush as Michaelson is unmoving while Waterson's voice fills the air with cries for Sudakov to go after the back.] JD: That son of- Ben Waterson just _ordered_ Sudakov to go after the back of Todd Michaelson. He wants to put him in a damn wheelchair for the rest of his life. MS: Jase, you knew this was coming. JD: It... it makes me sick, dammit. MS: I can finish the show if you want. You can- JD: No, Todd would want the show to continue and that's exactly what he's gonna get. Even if that son of a- [Lifting his left leg high, Sudakov slams the heel down into the kidneys of his opponent to a huge heel pop.] JD: Hard stomp to the back of Todd Michaelson... Waterson is loving this. MS: Jase, are you sure that- JD: I'm fine. Let's just do this. [Sudakov spreads his arms wide, soaking up the jeers from the enraged crowd and then slowly lifts his leg again, slamming his heel down in a axe kick motion on the lower back once more.] JD: Another horrific stomp to the back. There is no mistaking what Kolya Sudakov's intent is now, fans. This isn't about winning a match. It may have been at some point but not now. MS: I don't know how much it ever was. Waterson wanted this moment... he wanted this chance to cripple the man who trained him... who taught him everything he knows about this business. JD: He's a scumbag traitor... pure and simple. And I hope someday, he gets what he has coming to him. I hope that- [Big pop!] JD: Is that- what's he doing out here? [The crowd roars to life as Kenta Kitzukawa, the first and prize student of Todd Michaelson, walks through the entrance curtain to the Elks Lodge and slowly starts walking towards the ring. He's in workout pants and a Tiger Paw Pro t-shirt. He's carrying a white towel over his shoulder as he walks out to ringside with purpose.] JD: He's going to- hold on, dammit. [A loud "THUNK!" is heard as Jason Dane throws down his headset and rushes over to Kitzukawa who is surveying the action in the ring, gripping the white towel in his hand.] MS: Fans, Jason Dane has just left the announce booth. I know he was hoping to continue out here but considering the situation and his relationship with Todd Michaelson, it's probably best if he doesn't. Kenta Kitzukawa, Michaelson's prize student just made a surprise appearance out here in the Elks Lodge. He was not scheduled to appear on this show. In all honesty, he is not even a member of the PWR roster. Michaelson and Kitzukawa parted ways during the first run of PWR over some disagreement and Kenta has spent the years since then in Japan making quite the reputation for himself. But they have always remained friends and he came here tonight to wish his friend luck with his new endeavor. [Sudakov looks down at the muscular Kitzukawa, waving him towards the ring.] MS: Don't take that bait, Kenta! Jason Dane is arguing with Kenta... I think Kitzukawa wants to throw in the towel. He wants to stop the match right here on the spot but Jason Dane seems to be trying to change his mind. Dane knows how much pride Michaelson has and he would _never_ want to see his match end that way. He would never forgive Kenta for that. Even if Michaelson is wheeled out of here on a stretcher, he'd rather have that happen then someone give up the match for him. [Seeing Kenta pause, Sudakov drives a pair of stomps to the back once more bringing a cry of pain from Michaelson.] MS: Kenta is going to- no! Dane stops him! [Waterson moves around the corner to get a clear shot of Kitzukawa, screaming for him to throw in the towel.] MS: Sudakov back to his feet... watching Kitzukawa... [Kenta makes a subtle shake of the head which Sudakov responds to by leaping into the air, driving his knee down to the back with a big kneedrop. He holds the knee in place, grabbing Michaelson by the hair and bending his spine so that his anguished face is visible to both Kitzukawa and Dane. Waterson cackles at this, continue to scream.] "LOOK AT YOUR MENTOR, KENTA! LOOK AT YOUR HERO!" [Kitzukawa stares at his friend being punished and then turns his head away, spiking the towel on the concrete floor before taking a spot in Michaelson's corner where he starts slapping the canvas, rallying the fans as Jason Dane grabs the towel and heads back to the announce table.] JD: Sorry about that, fans. A little issue there. MS: Care to explain what we just saw? JD: Not really. A concerned friend is all. [The Russian climbs to his feet... ...and promptly soccer kicks the ribs of Michaelson, forcing him to roll to his side.] JD: Sudakov staying very focused on the back. He knows the weak spot on his opponent, that's for sure. [A second soccer kick connects with the lower back causing Michaelson to roll under the ropes, dropping down to the concrete floor.] JD: Todd's out to the floor. This might be the end of- dammit. MS: Waterson's ordering him to go after him! JD: I noticed that. MS: Don't get snappy with me, Jason. I offered to- JD: Sudakov out to the apron, dropping down to the floor now. This is untread battleground for the Russian who definitely likes to keep things inside the ring, Mark. MS: Yeah, yeah he does. JD: Who's being snappy now? [Out on the floor, Sudakov pulls a limp Michaelson off the floor by the hair... ...and promptly hoists him up.] JD: What the-?! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: SLAM!!! SLAM ON THE CONCRETE!!! [The crowd groans at the impact of the simple bodyslam on the concrete then boos Sudakov wildly as he stands over the former World Champion, looking out over the crowd with icy eyes.] JD: A bodyslam... a simple bodyslam... but it causes so much damage in this scenario. MS: And look at Sudakov... just gloating without saying a word. [Sudakov turns his gaze on the nearby Kitzukawa, staring at the Japanese competitor. Their eyes lock for a few moments before Sudakov nudges Michaelson in the side of the face with a foot, rolling him to his side. Still looking at Kitzukawa, Sudakov pulls Michaelson off the floor by the hair, shoving him back into the ring.] JD: Todd's back in... he's being put through the wringer... MS: And Sudakov's still staring at Kitzukawa... I don't get this at all. JD: Nor do I. [Ever the shit-stirrer, Waterson slides in behind his charge, screaming over his shoulder at Kitzukawa.] "Whaddya think, Kenta? Want to give my boy a shot?! Think you can take it?" [Kitzukawa glares at both men, refusing to break the gaze as Sudakov blindly reaches up to pull himself up on the apron.] JD: Sudakov's back on the apron... but he's still looking at Kenta... he's still- [Inside the ring, Michaelson somehow manages to pull himself off the canvas and spot a distracted Sudakov.] JD: TODD'S UP! He can barely stand but he's up! He's- [Michaelson does a full 360 turn and just as Sudakov turns to face him, he gets _blasted_ in the side of the jaw with an elbow strike, the impact of which sends Sudakov sailing off the ring apron, slamming down to the concrete floor near the chairs in a heap!] JD: ROLLLLLLLING ELLLLLLBOW!!! [The crowd erupts at the move, screaming for Michaelson who immediately collapses back to the canvas.] JD: Are you kidding me? Todd found just enough energy to get up and hit that Rolling Elbow and then drops back down like a rock! MS: And Ben Waterson is irate. He's screaming at Kenta... screaming at Todd... screaming at Sudakov... screaming at the fans... screaming at- hey, leave me alone Waterson! It's not my fault! [The camera cuts to Waterson throwing a huge tantrum, slamming his hands into the canvas repeatedly as he yells for Sudakov to get off the floor.] JD: Both men are down... we've got another double count coming up here. [Referee Mike Meekly leans over the ropes to start counting.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" [Waterson, seeing no signs of life from his charge, moves to assist... ...and gets blocked by Kenta Kitzukawa who throws his shirt down, waving Waterson in a "bring it on" gesture. Pop!] JD: Yeah! If Waterson wants to help Sudakov back in, he's got to go through Kenta to do it! MS: And as someone who has seen Waterson _and_ Kenta wrestle, that's just not going to happen, Jason. JD: It's certainly not. If Sudakov's going to stay in this match, he's going to have to get up on his own. [Inside the ring, Todd Michaelson manages to wobble to his feet, falling back into the corner to rest as the count reaches six. Outside the ring, the Russian stirs.] "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" [Sudakov pushes off the floor to his feet, Waterson screaming, begging the Russian to get back to the ring before the ten count.] JD: I don't know if he's gonna make it, Mark! The count's at nine... he's staggering towards... [Waterson leaps on the apron, desperate to stop the count. And he does manage to delay it just long enough for the Russian to roll himself under the bottom rope to beat the ten count.] JD: Both men back in. Ben Waterson saved his client's skin there, Mark. MS: He sure did. Sudakov was not going to beat the ten count. That rolling elbow and the fall to the floor just took too much wind out of his sails. JD: Sudakov back in now though, Todd pulls him up... shoves him back in the corner... [Cradling the head of the Russian, Michaelson launches a series of hard forearms to the jaw. After six blows, he releases it and tees off with a chop across the chest followed by a headbutt.] JD: Battering Sudakov with strikes in the corner... and I bet the Russian doesn't like the taste of his own medicine! [More forearms follow and spinning back elbow catches him squarely on the bridge of the nose, dropping Sudakov to a knee. Michaelson backs off from the corner and pulls his elbowpad off, spiking it to the canvas and letting off a big roar that the crowd echoes before turning a 360 spin... ...and _blasting_ the kneeling Sudakov in the face with the exposed elbow!] JD: ROLLING ELBOW!! SUDAKOV IS DOWN!!! [Michaelson collapses on top of his opponent.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: Foot on the ropes! That son of a- Waterson put Sudakov's foot on the ropes! [An irate Kitzukawa leaves the corner to come at Waterson who beats a quick retreat around the ring.] JD: Ben Waterson saved his client again... that Rolling Elbow almost finished off the Pro Wrestler Hunter/Killer here in Reseda! [An exhausted and injured Michaelson pushes back to his feet, reaching down... ...and yanking Sudakov into a standing headscissors to a huge pop!] JD: He's got the Russian hooked... he hooks one arm... underhook on the other... MS: BILLION! DOLLAR! BOMB! JD: HE LIFT- NO! He can't get him up! And he breaks the hold, immediately grabbing the injured back. Too much strain on the back! [And with the hold broken, Sudakov straightens up, hooking the doubled-up Michaelson around the neck... ...and pulls down on the neck as he brings his knee up into the face of the former World Champion!] JD: Oh! Kneestrike to the face! MS: Muay Thai knees ala Tiger Claw, baby! [The crowd groans with each knee thrown into the face of the PWR Owner, Sudakov striking with deadly precision. Still holding the clinch, he hurls Michaelson down to his knees which reveals a busted eyebrow.] JD: Ohhh! He split Todd open! Those knees busted open the eyebrow of- ELBOW! [Holding Michaelson back by the hair, exposing the cut fully, Sudakov drives elbow after elbow down into the cut, trying to make it worse.] JD: He's trying to break that cut wide open, Mark! MS: And Mike Meekly is in there taking a good look... he may be thinking of stopping this again. JD: Another elbow! Another! [Sudakov peels back for a moment, looking down at a bloody, kneeling Michaelson... ...and promptly _drives_ a soccer kick into the lower back of Michaelson, causing him to crumple down to the canvas once more.] JD: And back to the spine... back to working the injured back. [Using his foot, the Russian turns Michaelson onto his back, dropping down in a lateral press.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: SHOULDER UP! MICHAELSON GETS THE SHOULDER UP! [Sudakov pushes up off the mat, shaking his head in seeming disbelief.] JD: He's a warrior, Sudakov! He's a fighter! It's going to take everything you've got to finish him off! [The Russian drops back, leaning against the ropes to catch a breather and waving Michaelson up.] JD: Sudakov looks winded. MS: He probably is. I've watched a lot of Sudakov's matches and don't recall any of them going this deep. He's used to the quick KO, that's for sure. JD: He's leaning against the ropes... Michaelson pushes up to all fours... [And Sudakov leaps into action, taking a three step charge and pulling the foot back for a lethal soccer kick... ...that doesn't connect as Michaelson manages to push up to his knees, reaching down to sweep the other leg out from Sudakov as he attempts the kick, taking him down to the mat again.] JD: He avoids the soccer kick! That would've ended it and somehow he manages to- [HUGE POP!] JD: STF!!! STF!! Michaelson slaps on the STF in the center of the ring! [The crowd roars as Todd cranks up the pressure on the knee with the spinning toehold crossface submission.] JD: Sudakov's screaming out... that knee is still wrecked with pain, Mark. MS: He's trying to reach the ropes again. That's really the only way out of this... that's really the only way to break this hold. JD: And you can see Waterson facing him... begging him to get to the ropes... screaming for him to get there. MS: Do you think Kolya Sudakov would actually submit? JD: I think we're about to find out! [The referee is kneeling on the canvas in front of Sudakov, asking the Russian if he wants to submit but Sudakov holds firm, screaming "NO!" through gritted teeth as he tries to suck down the pain.] JD: Sudakov will not quit. Michaelson will not give up either. This is a war, fans! A Revolutionary War! MS: Look at the forearm pressed against the cheek by Michaelson. It's leaving a welt, Jason! That's how hard he's got that hold applied and how hard Sudakov is fighting it. It's rubbing the skin raw where the bone meets flesh. JD: The Russian is inching closer to the ropes though. I don't know how he's doing it. You can hear the screams of pain from him but somehow, someway he's managed to avoid giving up. MS: You've gotta give him credit. He may be a cold hard beast of a man but he's fought like a warrior in this one as well. [The crowd claps in rhythm, echoing Kenta's slapping of the canvas to cheer on his teacher. Across the ring, Waterson is pleading with his charge, shoving on the bottom rope as if he can push the ropes all the way to Sudakov.] JD: This place is electrified, Mark! MS: What a first night back for PWR, Jason. This is nuts! JD: Sudakov a little closer. Todd's trying to stop his progress but the Russian will not be denied either! He's just out of- [Heel pop!] JD: He made it! Sudakov made it to the ropes! [Michaelson holds the count til four, finally breaking it before the DQ.] JD: Whew. What a fight. Michaelson grabs the foot, dragging him out of the corner... [The crowd roars as Michaelson hooks the leg for the figure four again, spinning into the spinning toehold... ...and gets _drilled_ in the jaw with an upkick that sends him down to all fours.] JD: Ohh! What a counter by Sudakov! MS: Michaelson didn't see it coming at all. That upkick caught him right in the chin and took him off his feet. JD: Sudakov rolls to the ropes, grabbing the middle rope to pull himself off the mat. MS: And again, it looks like he can barely stand on that injured wheel. JD: Michaelson to a knee... he's calling for Sudakov to bring it! He wants more! [The Russian angrily staggers away from the ropes as Michaelson gets to his feet.] JD: And we're right back where we started! Two men squaring off in the cent- ohhh! Big forearm by Michaelson! [And this time, it's Sudakov who slaps his own chest, calling for more... ...which Michaelson happily obliges with a huge chop across the chest.] JD: No effect! The Russian is jacked! [Michaelson grabs Sudakov by the head, drilling him with a series of cradled forearms again, stunning the Russian.] JD: He's got him dazed! He's got the Russian in trouble again! [The former World Champion backs off, slapping the canvas with both hands before spinning completely, aiming with the exposed elbow at his foe's skull once more.] JD: ROLLING ELLLLLLLB- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: HIGH KICK! HIGH KICK! HIGH KICK! [The crowd deflates as the Michaelson Rolling Elbow is cut short by Sudakov snapping off a beautiful picture perfect high kick with the right leg that catches Michaelson on the side of the head.] MS: He didn't get it all, Jason. I think his left leg... that injured leg gave out a little bit when he threw the kick so he didn't get it all. JD: He got enough! MS: Did he? Usually, that kick is a sure knockout. Right now? Michaelson is moving a bit. [With both men on the mat, Sudakov grimaces as he rolls to his knees, crawling over to the downed Michaelson for a cover.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [HUGE POP!] MS: I told you! I told you he didn't get enough of it! [But an irate Sudakov effortlessly goes from the lateral press into the full mount.] JD: Oh no! MS: Michaelson's in trouble! [Exhausted, Sudakov throws a picture perfect right hand to the side of Michaelson's face, catching him near the eye.] JD: Big right hand from the mount! Those fists aren't flying as quickly as they did earlier tonight but they're still very effective! [The Russian throws another right hand to the eyesocket... and another. Michaelson pulls up his arms in an attempt to block and with the last burst of energy in his body, Sudakov begins raining down blows from the mount.] JD: Rights and lefts being delivered with frightening power and accuracy! MS: The ref's right down there... checking on Todd... checking to see if he can defend himself... JD: Michaelson's got his arms up in front of his face but I don't know if it's doing any good! Sudakov is teeing off on him and seems to be blasting him with blows to the head at will! [Meekly is screaming for Michaelson to respond to him, asking him if he can continue.] JD: The referee's checking to see if Todd can keep going. Sudakov doesn't give a damn... another shot to the head... and another... and another... and another! He won't stop! He's not going to stop this assault until- [DING DING DING] JD: What the-?! [The crowd roars with disappointment as the bell rings. Kolya Sudakov stands up out of the mount, staring down at the bloodied and bruised PWR Owner. An ecstatic Ben Waterson leaps into the air outside the ring, diving under the ropes to get to his charge.] JD: The ref... did Mike Meekly stop the match, Mark? MS: I didn't see him signal for the bell. [With Waterson and Sudakov celebrating inside the ring, Mike Meekly slides to the floor, talking to the time keeper and Melissa Cannon.] JD: I'm not sure what's going on here. Is Kolya Sudakov our winner? MS: I can't quite hear what they're- [Suddenly, the voice of Melissa Cannon fills the air.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen, after consulting with our time keeper, referee Mike Meekly has determined that this match has reached it's thirty minute time limit. Therefore, this match is declared... a draw! [Big mixed pop from inside the Elks Lodge.] JD: A draw?! A time limit draw? MS: The match went the distance. These two beat on one another for thirty minutes and neither could manage to put the other away. [A furious Waterson is leaning over the ropes, screaming at the referee... ...then turns to Sudakov and barks, "Finish him!"] JD: What the hell is this?! Finish him?! MS: Oh hell... he's setting for the soccer kick. Todd, stay down! Don't get up! Stay on your- [But before Sudakov can strike, he finds himself face to face with Kenta Kitzukawa, standing over his fallen teacher. Deafening pop!] JD: KITZUKAWA! KENTA'S NOT GOING TO LET THIS HAPPEN TO MICHAELSON! [The crowd roars for the showdown as the Russian shootfighter and the Japanese superstar stand across the ring from one another, glaring into the other's eyes with intensity.] JD: We've got a standoff! Sudakov and Kitzukawa are- [But before anything can happen, Waterson spins around and grabs his client, pulling him by the arm to get him back.] JD: Waterson doesn't want to see it! He knows what Kenta is capable of! He knows- [Waterson storms past Sudakov, getting in the face of Kitzukawa and berating him.] "YOU'VE SEEN WHAT HE CAN DO! YOU REALLY WANT IN OUR BUSINESS?! YOU REALLY WANT TO SAVE HIM THAT BAD?! YOU REALLY-" [Kitzukawa turns away from Waterson, kneeling to tend to his friend... ...but a furious Waterson yanks him back to his feet.] "I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH! DON'T YOU EVER TURN AWAY FROM ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" [And full of piss and vinegar, Waterson takes things a step too far...] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [A huge slap bounces off the stunned Kitzukawa who looks down for a moment... ...and then _erupts_ with a massive lariat that flips Waterson over, depositing him on his stomach on the mat.] JD: LAAAAAARIAAAAATOOOOO!!! [Eyes filled with fire, Kolya Sudakov moves in to aid his fallen agent... ...but is cut off from Kitzukawa as the ring quickly fills.] JD: The locker room is emptying out! They're getting between the two men! We've got Paulson out here... Luke Bradley... Jimmy Wii... all the luchadors... Sudakov is desperately trying to get at him, trying to push through them... Kitzukawa is calling him out! Kitzukawa wants to do this right now... he wants to do this right here and right now here in Reseda! MS: The ring is filled! They won't let these two men go at it! JD: Unbelievable! Fans, what a night this has been! These two are still at war and after tonight, you've gotta believe... THE REVOLUTION IS ON!!! [We cut to a wide shot of the entire ring, showing all the chaos as it unfolds... ...and we fade to black.]