[We fade in from black to the underground parking lot of the Staples Center. J*STAR Festival promoters Chris Blue and Todd Michaelson are dressed in suits, walking towards the entrance to the building. Michaelson is greeting everyone he sees with a nod and wave while Blue is jabbering away on a cell phone.] CB: Yeah. And? What's missing? [Michaelson stops to shake hands with a couple Japanese men in business suits, bowing deeply to them.] CB: Blueprints? Whatever, man. It's showtime. I don't have time for this. Yeah, I understand. Fine... fine. [Blue continues to walk, leaving Michaelson behind... ...then suddenly stops in his tracks as he comes face to face with "The Madfox" Jeff Matthews.] CB: Yeah. I'll have to call you back. [The former EMWC President clicks the cell phone closed, staring into the eyes of Matthews. The two are motionless for a bit, staring at one another.] CB: Good to see you, Jeff. [No comment from the Madfox. Blue nods his head... and extends his hand.] CB: Good luck tonight. [The Madfox looks at the offered hand... then up at Blue's face. And then... he walks past him, entering the building without saying a word. Blue looks down at his own hand, shaking his head.] CB: God bless you, Jeff... god bless you. [And with that, we fade to the opening credits. Randy Newman's "I Love LA" begins to play over of grainy black and white footage of EMWC action taking place in the original House of Pain small arena in New York City.] #Hate New York City... It's cold and it's damp. And all the people dress like monkeys.# [We cut to footage of the original Rumble In The Windy City.] #Let's leave Chicago to the Eskimos. That town's a little bit too rugged for you and me, baby# [The guitar kicks in as we see a headline reading "EMWC MOVES WEST!" A second one follows that says "LIKE DODGERS FROM BROOKLYN, EMWC FROM NYC!"] #Rolling down Imperial Highway Big nasty redhead at my side Santa Ana winds blowin' hot from the north We were born to ride# [More headlines over old EMWC action featuring Curtis Hansen and Kevin Slater. "EMWC LIGHTS UP LA!"] #Roll down the window Put down the top Crank up the Beach Boys, baby Don't let the music stop We gonna ride it til we just can't ride it no more# [Keep the headlines comin'. "CALI IS EXTREME TO THE CORE!"] #From the South Bay to the Valley From the West Side to the East Side Everybody's very happy Cause the sun is shining all the time Looks like another perfect day# ["EMWC REIGNS SUPREME! CAPITAL OF WRESTLING IS LOS ANGELES!"] #I love L.A.# [But the music suddenly grinds to a halt... and is replaced by Eminem's "Say Goodbye Hollywood". A big headline appears, "EXTREME GOES UNDER!"] #Say goodbye Say goodbye to Hollywood# [Shots of a teary eyed Lori Dane at the final EMWC Press Conference, the night that Extreme died.] #Say goodbye Say goodbye to Hollywood# [Todd Michaelson sits on a bench in the locker room, head bowed as wrestlers file from the land of Extreme for the final time.] #Say goodbye Say goodbye to Hollywood# [The EMWC Owner sheds a tear as his company closes its' doors... and the screen fades to black. The music cuts out as is quickly replaced by Phantom Planet's "California".] #On the stereo Listen as we go Nothing's gonna stop me now# ["BLUE FORMS EXTREME SPORTS!" "REVOLUTION: ON!"] #California here we come Right back where we started from# ["BLUE/MICHAELSON PLAN SUPERSHOW!"] #Pedal to the floor Thinkin' of the roar Gotta get us to the show# ["J*STAR FESTIVAL COMES HOME TO LA!"] #California here we come Right back where we started from# ["BIGGEST EVENT OF YEAR LIVE AT STAPLES!"] #California! Here we come!# [And with a final shot of Blue and Michaelson in print sharing a handshake, the screen _explodes_ as the music abruptly changes to Bad Religion's "Los Angeles Is Burning" and we cut to the interior of the Staples Center. The J*STAR Festival's second night has begun.] JS: Welcome everyone to Los Angeles, California! Welcome to a SOLD OUT Staples Center! Welcome to the second night of the biggest event of the year! Welcome... to the J*STAR FESTIVAL!!! [DEAFENING POP!] JS: We are _live_ here in the City of Angels for the second night of what has already been an epic event. Last night, we saw eight of the best in the business collide and saw one man, Jaiden Andrews of Pro Wrestling Revolution, walk out above them all! And tonight, we will see dream matches... we will see promotional showcases... and we will see bloody wars come to an end. [The camera pans above the ring where the framework of the Killing Box hangs ominously overhead.] JS: I am Jon Stegglet, your play by play man for much of tonight's action. Throughout the night, as we present the promotional showcase matches, we will be going to the respective promotion's announcers for their commentary. But for the big dream matches, it will be me... and this man, co-promoter of this event and the owner/operator of Pro Wrestling Revolution... TODD MICHAELSON! [Michaelson stands up at the announce table, bowing to the roaring fans who start up a "THANK YOU, TODD!" chant. He grins, bowing again before taking his seat.] TM: Thanks, Jonnie. This is gonna be one hell of a night. JS: That's all you've got to say? TM: Anyone who heard me say that has already bought the show or is in the house. I've got no more hype to lay on them. Let's get going! JS: We're going to kick things off with a Super Japan Pro Wrestling contest. A tag team gauntlet match for their Gunyro Tag Team Championship! So, without anything further, let's go up to the press box where Ken Otaku and Akira Ono are standing by! Gents? [The camera view goes to the Press Box, where the SJPW announce team of Ken Otaku and Akira Ono are set up for the opening bout...] Ken Otaku: Greetings fans! I am Ken Otaku, and this is my broadcast partner Akira Ono. We're here to kick things off on the second night of the J*STAR Festival, as Super Japan Pro Wrestling presents a special Gauntlet tag team match for the Gunryo Tag Team Titles. Gunryo, which means War in Japanese, is our Jisatsu, or hardcore division. We have six teams competing tonight, including the Gunryo singles Champion, Despair, and his partner Super Bakemono, SMASH Attack, the EuroPack, Se-hong Kwan & Pramoj Ananda, El Muerto Rojo & Sangre Guererro of the Blood Merchants, and last, but not least, the team of Maim & Pain, the Brute Squad. Akira Ono: The Brute Squad is the unknown element in this match; they have a well known reputation from their days in RAW, as well as when they competed in Japan, so they've been around awhile. Normally I'd say that Despair & Bakemono or maybe the EuroPack had this match well in hand, but the Brute Squad is the wild card in all this. Depending on when they enter the match, they could easily take the entire thing. Otaku: I think this match has another added element by the recent conflict between Despair and his Disciples and the Blood Merchants. El Muerte Rojo & Sangre Guererro have made it clear that their only concern is making sure Despair loses tonight. Ono: After what Despair did to El Santo Azteca in their recent Gunryo title match, the Blood Merchants are our for blood, Despair's blood that is! Otaku: We also have some history between the EuroPack and the team of Kwan & Ananda. Ananda put Gregor Davinsky in the hospital, before facing the third member of the EuroPack, Wolf Jager, in a match that saw Jager knock Ananda out! Ono: Yes, there is still some animosity there, so it will be interesting to see how this match goes. Otaku: On that note, let's go to the ring... [The camera view goes back to the ring where Ken Graham has given way to the SJPW ring announcer.] Ring Announcer: This first contest is a special Gauntlet tag team contest for the Super Japan Pro Wrestling Gunryo Tag Team Championship. This match will be contested under Gunryo rules, which means there are no countouts, and no disqualifications. ["Bury me with Smoke" By Down comes over the PA] RA: Intoducing team number one....KENICHI KUBOTA & YATORO HORI.....SMASH ATTACK!!! [Kubota & Hori come out, dressed in street clothes. Kubota has a dented black metal chair, while Hori is carrying a singapore cane] RA: Introducing team number two... ["Teenage Angst" by Placebo replaces "Bury me with Smoke" on the PA] RA: SUPER BAKEMONO & DESPAIR....THE DISCIPLES OF DESPAIR!!! [Despair comes out with his barbed wire covered chair, and wearing a torn and bloody face mask...] Otaku: That bastard! He's wearing the mask he took from El Santo Azteca last week! Ono: He's going to pay for that! [Despair charges towards the ring, but Bakemono is no where to be found] Otaku: Where's Bakemono? [Despair gets to ringside, and both Kubota & Hori challenge him to get into the ring. A figure hops over the railing, and slides into the ring behind both men...] Ono: It's Bakemono! [The crowd gives a big heel pop as Bakemono dropkicks Kubota from behind, sending him staggering forward. As Hori turns to towards him, Bakemono nails him with a rolling koppo kick! The crowd gives another heel pop, as Despair slides into the ring, and raises his chair over his head....] *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Otaku: Despair all ready starting with the chair shots! The man has so much ability, yet repeatedly relies on that chair to help him win matches! [Despair drops the chair, and starts to hammer Kubota's back with forearm shots. Meanwhile, Bakemono whips Hori to the ropes, catching him on the rebound with a spinwheel kick. Hori staggers back to the ropes and Bakemono charges, sending him over the ropes to the floor with a lariat] Ono: Despair has Kubota up, and he attempts an irish whip, but Kubota reverses...Manhattan Drop on Despair as he rebounds! Bakemono charges Kubota, who takes him over with a powerslam! [The crowd gives a mixed pop as Kubota gets to his feet, raising his arms in the air. He grabs Despair by the hair, dragging him to his feet. He drives a knee into his gut, then drapes his arm over his head, before lifting him up vertical in the air. He holds him there for five seconds, then falls backward, completing the suplex. Despair sits up in pain, his hand on the small of his back...] Otaku: Kubota showing the Gunryo champion no respect at all! Bakemono is back up, and he charges Kubota again...Kubota ducks the spinwheel kick...Bakemono going to the ropes again...BIG LARIAT takes Bakemono down! He did a three sixty there! [Kubota starts putting the boots to Bakemono, as Hori slides back into the ring. He picks up his singapore cane, and rushes the rising Despair...] *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Ono: Despair getting some of his own medicine! *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Otaku: Hori broke his cane on that last one! [Hori throws down the broken cane, and grabs Despair by the hair. In desperation, Despair low blows Hori, and the crowd "oooohs" as Hori drops to his knees. Despair gets to his feet, goes to the ropes, and nails Hori in the face with a shining wizard. Hori goes down, and Despair turns to see Kubota plant Bakemono into the mat with a piledriver...] Ono: Despair sets himself....Kubota gets up...Despair charges, nailing Kubota with a running forearm...Kubota falls back to the ropes, rebounds, and comes at Despair with a lariat...Despair ducks the lariat...Kubota goes to the opposite ropes and rebounds...TORNADO DDT by Despair! [big heel pop] Despair looks ecstatic now! [Despair helps Bakemono to his feet, and the two men drag Hori up, and whip him to the ropes. They hit double back elbows as he rebounds. Hori staggers back, and both men kick him in the gut. Hori doubles over, and both men grab him under his armpits, and hiptoss him over to the mat...] Otaku: Good teamwork by the DoD. It appears Bakemono & Despair have set aside their differences tonight! [Despair puts Hori into a surfboard on the mat, while Bakemono runs to the ropes, and rebounds off into a dropkick to Hori's face. The crowd gives another heel pop, and Despair forces Hori to his feet, and locks his arms behind him, before taking him back with a release tiger suplex! The crowd pops again, and Despair gives them the finger...] Ono: Despair showing no respect for the J*STAR crowd tonight! He and Bakemono high five in the ring; are they stupid? This is going to cost them! [Sure enough, Kubota gets to his feet and charges. Despair & Bakemono turn towards him, only to get taken down by a double lariat! The crowd gives a big pop for Kubota, who drags Despair to his feet, and drives a knee into his gut, then rams him shoulder first into the corner. He hauls back and...] *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Otaku: Big chop by Kubota on the Gunryo champion! *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Otaku:...and another! [Bakemono gets to his feet, but Kubota charges him, nailing him with another lariat. He goes back to Despair in the corner, who kicks him in the gut, then hits a snap DDT that drives him into the mat. He helps Bakemono to his feet, and motions to the top rope. Bakemono heads to the top rope, while Despair drags Hori up, and throws him through the ropes to the floor. He goes back to Kubota, and drags him up. He sets him up in a side waislock, and lifs him up, sending him to the mat with a backdrop driver. Bakemono perches on the top rope, then leaps off the top rope, going into a shooting star, before landing on Kubota with a senton bomb! The crowd gives a big pop!] Ono: BAKEMONO BOMB! He hooks the leg... One! - - - - Two!! - - - - Three!!! RA: SMASH Attack has been eliminated!! Otaku: So one team down, and let's see who is next! ["Bodies" by Drowning Pool comes over the PA] RA: Introducig team number three...EL MUERTE ROJO & SANGRE GUERERRO....THE BLOOD MERCHANTS!!! [Rojo & Sangre come charging from the back and hit the ring. Despair & Bakemono meet them coming in, and start putting the boots to both luchadors] Ono: Here we go! This is what we've been waiting for! [Despair drags Rojo to his feet, and whips him into the corner. He charges in after him, but Rojo stops him cold with a back elbow. Despair staggers back a few steps, then charges in again, only for Rojo to sidestep him, and shove Despair face first into the corner! Meanwhile, Bakemono whips Sangre to the ropes, catching him with a hurricanrana on the rebound. Sangre flips across the ring, and rolls to his feet. He charges Bakemono, who takes him up and over with a back bodydrop. Sangre lands on his feet, and he lands a forearm to Bakemono's back. He spins Bakemono around, and whips him to the ropes. Sangre attempts a hiptoss, but Bakemono blocks the move, drives a knee into Sangre's gut, then takes him over with a swinging neckbreaker!] Otaku: Rojo charges into the corner, catching Despair with an enzulariato. He spins Despair around... *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Otaku:...Big chop to his chest! Meanwhile Bakemono whips Sangre into another corner, and follows in with a big dropkick that crushes him against the corner. Bakemono back to his feet, and he monkey flips Sangre out of the corner... *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Ono:...and Rojo with another chop to Despair's chest! Sangre is up, and Bakemono nails him with a koppo kick! [Bakemono lands two more koppo kicks on Sangre, sending him back to the mat. Meanwhile, Rojo sits Despair on the top rope, rakes his eyes, then climbs up with him, before sending him to the mat with a superplex. Rojo rolls on top for a cover...] One! - - - Otaku: Save by Bakemono! [heel pop] Bakemono drags Rojo to his feet... *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Otaku:...chop to Rojo's chest! *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Otaku:...Rojo retaliates! [Bakemono thumbs Rojo in the eye, illiciting a heel pop from the crowd] Ono: Bakemono runs to the ropes, and springboards off, taking Rojo down with a DDT. He hooks the leg... One! - - - - Otaku: Save by Sangre! [mixed pop] Sangre has Bakemono up, and whips him to the ropes...dropkick sends Bakemono staggering back to the ropes...Sangre charges....cross bodyblock takes both men over the ropes to the floor! [As Bakemono & Sangre tumble to the floor, Despair gets to his feet. Seeing Rojo on the mat, he charges, and lands on Rojo with a senton. He then straddles Rojo, and starts to pummel him with forearms and punches] Ono: Despair showing his more vicious side, just battering Rojo on the mat! [On the floor, Sangre tries to whip Bakemono into the railing, but he reverses it, sending Sangre hard into the railing] Otaku: Wait! Someone just hopped the railing! I can't tell who it is, because they're wearing a mask! [The masked man gets up on the apron, and yells at Despair. The Gunryo champion stops his assault on Rojo, and gets to his feet. He walks over to the man, and the two start arguing] Otaku: Who is that man? Ono: I believe it's El Luchador Violento, leader of the Blood Merchants, and El Santo Azteca's nephew! [The two men continue to argue, and Despair takes a swing at Violento, who blocks it. He grabs Despair by the head, and drops down, snapping his neck onto the top rope. Despair staggers backwards, clutching his throat...] Otaku: Bakemono tries to get into the ring, but Sangre grabs his ankle, and pulls him out of the ring...Rojo is back up, and he sees Despair backing up towards him...Rojo hoists him over his shoulders....BURNING HAMMER! [big pop from the crowd] He hit the Red Death Driver #2! Rojo's not finished; he's going to the top rope now....BIG SPLASH! He hooks the leg... One! - - - - Two!! - - - - Three!! [big pop from the crowd] RA: The Disciples of Despair have been eliminated! Otaku: The Blood Merchants did it! They eliminated Despair & Bakemono! Violento is clapping his hands, and hops the railing into the crowd again. Despair rolls out of the ring, and Bakemono goes to check on him. Sangre back in the ring now, and he and Rojo are waiting to see who their next opponents are.... ["No Remorse" by Metallica comes over the PA] RA: Introducing team number four...MAIM & PAIN.....THE BRUTE SQUAD!!! Ono: Oh no! After taking down the DoD, that's the next team the Blood Merchants have to face? [Maim & Pain come storming from the back, charing towards the ring. They get a big heel pop from the crowd] Otaku: Sangre & Rojo catch Maim & Pain with baseball slides as they try and enter the ring, but it barely slows them down! The Brute Squad in the ring now, and Sangre tries a spinwheel kick on Pain, but Pain catches him....EXPLODER!!! [big pop] Sangre was just dumped on his head! *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] *SMACK* [crowd "Whooos"] Ono: Rojo landing some chops on Maim, but it has no effect! Rojo attempts an irish whip, but Maim reverses...Rojo ducks the lariat attempt, and stop short behind Maim....He kicks him in the thigh...Rojo somehow hoists Maim up....RED DEATH DRIVER!!! [big pop as Rojo hits the Death Valley Driver on Maim, which turns into a heel pop as Maim just gets right back up!] Otaku: Maim is back up....BIG LARIAT takes Rojo down! The Brute Squad drag Rojo to his feet...Maim going to the top rope, while Pain puts Rojo into Canadian Backbreaker Rack...ELBOW off the top rope by Maim! [heel pop] Ono: They call that move the Killotine Otaku. [Pain goes over to Sangre, who is still lying on the mat. He sets him up for a piledriver, and holds him there, barking at Maim. Maim walks over, and gets up on the second rope, grabbing Sangre by the ankles...] Otaku: SPIKED PILEDRIVER!!! [big heel pop] Pain with the cover.... One! - - - - Two!! - - - - Three!!! [big heel pop again] RA: The Blood Merchants have been eliminated! Ono: Three teams down, three to go. So who is next? ["Brutality" by Urban Voodoo comes over the PA] RA: Introducing team number five...SE-HONG KWAN & PRAMOJ ANANDA!!!! [Kwan & Ananda come out from the back, and rush to the ring. Maim & Pain meet them coming in, stomping away at them] Otaku: Kwan & Ananda caught coming into the ring! Maim now dragging Kwan up...he whips him to the ropes...FLAPJACK!!! [Kwan goes down hard, and rolls to the ropes] Ono: Pain has Ananda up, and whips him to the ropes...Pain catches him on the rebound...he sets him up for an Exploder, but Ananda counters with three elbows to the side of his head...Ananda grabs Pain by the head, and drives it into his knee! Pain staggers back....SPINNING ROUNDHOUSE KICK! [face pop as Pain goes down] Otaku: Maim charges Ananda with a lariat...STO by Ananda takes Maim down....Maim right back up, and Ananda takes him back down with a dropkick to the knee! [Maim goes down, and Ananda gets to his feet, and goes over to Kwan, helping him to his feet. Both men grab Maim, and whip him to the ropes. They land a double kick to him as he rebounds, hiptoss him to the mat, then both land elbowdrops to his chest] Ono: Good team work by Kwan & Ananda. Maim & Pain are very tough, so they need to keep the offensive going if they want to beat them. [Ananda drags Maim to his feet, scoops him into his arms, then drops down into a rib breaker. Kwan runs to the ropes, springboards off, and lands a stomp to Maim's chest. Kwan drops down and makes a cover...] One! - - - - Otaku: Kickout! [heel pop] Maim starts to get up, and Kwan nails him with a Shining Wizard! [face pop] Maim goes back down, and Kwan covers... One! - - - - Two!! - Ono: Kickout! [heel pop] Pain is up, and he grabs Ananda from behind, and takes him over with a side suplex. Kwan fires off a crescent kick on Pain...Kwan with a spinning backfist...Kwan with a spinning back kick....Kwan with a Shotay palm strike! [The crowd gives a big cheer as Kwan lands the various blows on Pain, forcing him back to the ropes. Kwan drives a knee into Pain's gut, then attempts an irish whip, but Pain reverses it. Kwan rebounds off the ropes, and Pain kicks him in the gut. As Kwan doubles over, Pain grabs him around the waist, and drives him to the mat with a snap powerbomb! The crowd gives a big heel pop, while Pain drops on top of Kwan for a cover...] One! - - - - Two!! - - - Otaku: Save by Ananda! [face pop] Ananda soccer kicking Pain in the ribs with those legs of his; this guy practicing kicking on trees! [Pain tries to block the kicks, and winces everytime one gets through] Ono: That's his thai kickboxing background. He's been in Thailand for about two months now, training himself for this big match. [Ananda drags Pain to his feet, double underhooks his arms, and takes him over with a suplex] Otaku: Great butterfly suplex by the Thai sensation! Maim is back up, and Ananda catches him with a Yakuza kick...Maim staggers back to the ropes and rebounds....BIG LARIAT TAKES DOWN ANANDA!!! [big heel pop] Just like that the Brute Squad take control of the match again! [Maim drags Ananda to his feet, then hoists him over his right shoulder, locking his arms over his waist] Ono: Maim now with the Canadian backbreaker on Ananda....he runs towards ther corner, SLAMMING Ananda into the turnbuckles! [big heel pop] Pain is back up, and the Brute Squad now kicking away at Ananda, who is trapped in the Tree of Woe! [Maim & Pain kick away at Ananda, who is unable to defend himself. Kwan staggers to his feet, and leans on the ropes. He sees his partner in trouble, and bounces off the ropes, leaping up before striking Maim in the back of the neck with a Foreknuckle punch. Maim staggers into the corner, covering Ananda. Pain turns towards Kwan, who drops down, and sweeps out with his leg, taking Pain off his feet. Kwan kip ups to his feet, and lands a thrust kick on Maim, who had turned to attack him. Maim falls back into the corner, and Ananda grabs his legs from the tree of woe. Pain gets to his feet, and Kwan thrusts a short kick to his knee, forcing him to drop down on one knee] Otaku: Kwan showing how his martial arts skills can help even the odds against these two monsters! Kwan grabs Pain by the head, and drives it onto his knee. Pain falls back, and he's been busted open! Pain touches his eyebrow, sees the blood, and the hatred just comes over his face! [Pain rises to his feet, eyes glaring at Kwan. Kwan fires off a roundhouse kick, and Pain staggers back two steps. Kwan then fires a back kick to Maim, and Ananda trips him up by jerking his ankles back. As Maim goes down, he's able to land a clubbing forearm blow to Kwan's back. Kwan staggers forward, and Pain catches him, and takes him to the mat with an overhead release belly to belly! The crowd gives a big heel pop] Ono: Even though Ananda & Kwan are tough men, I didn't think they'd last this long against Maim & Pain. I'm actually impressed that they've done so. [Maim gets up, and kicks Ananda in the corner a few times, then walks over to Pain, who has Kwan leaning on the ropes. They whip Kwan to the ropes hoisting him up as he rebounds with a double flapjack, before falling back, and dropping him throat first over the top rope, stun gun style. The crowd gives a big pop as Kwan rolls on the mat, clutching his throat] Otaku: Double flapjack into a stun gun! Kwan is in serious trouble now! The Brute Squad drag Kwan to his feet, and press him over their heads....STOMACH BREAKER!! This is turning into a massacre now! [Kwan rolls around the mat in pain, while the Brute Squad take Ananda off the top rope. They drag him to his feet, and he fires off an elbow to the side of Pain's head. Pain takes a step back, but Maim grabs him by the hair, and headbutts him three times. Ananda goes limp in his hands, and Pain grabs him as well. They lift him up between them by his arms, then drop down, driving him back first to the mat. Maim climbs up to the second rope, then dives off with an elbowdrop to Ananda's chest. He hooks the leg...] One! - - - - Two!! - - - Ono: Kickout! [face pop] Maim drags Ananda up by his hair; He holds out his arm for a lariat...Ananda ducks under and behind Maim, and grabs him in a waistlock....BACKDROP DRIVER! [another face pop] Otaku: Pain charges Ananda, only to be stopped by a Yakuza kick to the face! He staggers back, and Ananda lunges, driving a high knee into Pain's chest! Pain staggers back to the ropes, and Ananada leaps, spinning in mid-air before connecting with an enzugiri to Pain's head! [The crowd pops again as Pain drops to his knees. Ananda runs to the ropes, rebounds, and nails Pain with a Shining Wizard to the face. He goes down, and Ananda rolls him over, and hooks the leg...] One! - - - - Two!! - - Ono: Save by Maim! [heel pop] He drags Ananda to his feet, battering him with forearms to the back. Maim now with the irish whip....Maim charges...SPEAR!!!!!! [tremendous heel pop] Otaku: Pain is back up, and he drags Kwan to his feet. He sets Kwan up and lifts him up for a powerbomb...Maim comes over and grabs Kwan by the hair.....POWERBOMB ONTO MAIM'S KNEE!! [big heel pop] That's the Spine Chiller, Ono-san! Pain hooks Kwan's leg... One! - - - - Two!! - - - - Three!!! [Big heel pop] RA: Se-hong Kwan & Pramoj Ananda have been eliminated! Ono: The Brute Squad just need to survive one more team, but this team won't be that easy to overcome, especially after the damage Kwan & Ananda inflicted on them. ["Painkiller" by Judas Priest comes over the PA] RA: Introducing the fifth and final team....GREGOR DAVINSKY & SERGEI BARANOV.....THE EUROPACK!!!! [Davinsky & Baranov come out, Davinsky armed with a steel chair] Otaku: Looks like Davinsky came prepared for this match. The EuroPack storm the ring, and The Brute Squad are ready for them! [Maim stomps away at Davinsky, while Pain and Baranov exchange forearm shivers] Ono: The EuroPack made it clear that they didn't like the fact that the Brute Squad was invited to this match, and now they plan on making sure they don't win the Gunryo tag titles! [Baranov backs Pain to the ropes, then whips him across the ring. As Pain rebounds, Baranov catches him, and hits an overhead Belly to Belly suplex. Meanwhile, Maim drags Davinsky to his feet, scoops him up, and slams him on the chair he brought with him. He then goes to the corner, climbs to the second rope, and comes off with a legdrop across Davinksy's chest] Otaku: Baranov drags Pain to his feet. He sets him up, and lifts him high in the air. He just holds him in the vertical position, letting the blood rush to his head. Maim has Davinsky up, and Davinsky with a thumb to the eye! [heel pop] [Baranov falls backward, completing the suplex, while Davinsky drives Maim backwards onto the chair with a russian legsweep] Ono: Baranov drags Pain to his feet, and takes him over with a snap mare. He grabs his chin with his left hand, and starts to batter his face with his right forearm! Meanwhile, Davinksy has Maim up, and he drives him onto the chair with a Chokeslam! Davinsky with the cover... One! - - - - Two!! - - Otaku: kickout! [heel pop] Baranov continues to batter Pain with his forearm, while Davinsky starts choking Maim! [Davinsky chokes Maim, and lifts his head off the chair, then drives it back down, still choking him. Baranov continues to batter Pain, whose eyebrow is bleeding more than it was earlier. His nose is also bleeding, and his face is a mixture of pain and anger] Ono: Baranov now dragging Pain to his feet...European uppercut by Baranov sends Pain staggering back....Pain fires back with a kick; Baranov doubles over...swinging neckbreaker by Pain! He drags Baranov back to his feet...Hangman's neckbreaker this time! [Pain runs towards Davinksy, who is still choking Maim, and stomps on the back of his head. He breaks the choke, and Pain drags him to his feet, driving a forearm into his back. He hooks Davinsky in a waistlock, and pulls him backward, sending him facedown on the mat with a release German suplex. The crowd gives a big heel pop, while he helps Maim to his feet] Otaku: The Brute Squad drag Baranov up, and whip him to the ropes....DOUBLE YAKUZA KICK! They drag Davinsky up, and whip him to the ropes....another double Yakuza kick! Both EuroPack members are down! [Maim goes to get Davinsky's chair, while Pain grabs Davinksy by the head, and drags him to his feet. Davinsky thumbs him in the eye again, then kicks him in the gut. Maim raises the chair over his head to nail Davinsky, but he catches him with a back kick to the gut. Maim doubles over, and Davinksy takes the chair from him....] *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Ono: Chairshot to Maim! *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Otaku: And one for Pain! *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Ono: Another to Maim! *CRACK* [crowd "ooooohs"] Otaku: And another for Pain! Davinsky drops the chair, and whips Pain to the ropes....POWERSLAM on the chair! [pop] Davinsky hooks the leg... One! - - - - Two!! - - - Ono: Save by Maim! [heel pop] Maim stomping away at the back of Davinksy's head now! [Maim stomps away at Davinksy. Baranov gets to his feet and charges Maim from behind, nailing him with an enzulariato. Maim trips over Davinsky, and falls into the ropes. Baranov drags Pain to his feet, and attempts an irish whip, but Pain reverses it. As Baranov rebounds, Pain catches him, and spins around, planting Baranov onto the chair with a spinebuster! the crowd gives a big heel pop, while Pain shoves Baranov with his foot under the bottom rope to the floor] Otaku: Pain drawing his thumb across his throat; they're going for the Spike Piledriver on Davinsky! Pain sets him up over the chair...Maim grabs Davinsky by the ankles....SPIKE PILEDRIVER ON THE CHAIR!!! [big heel pop] Pain with the cover... One! - - - - Two!! - - - - Three!!! [big heel pop] RA: The EuroPack has been eliminated. Your winners, and SJPW GUNRYO TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS....MAIN...PAIN....THE BRUTE SQUAD!!!! [SJPW'S CEO Yamashita comes out carrying the Gunryo tag team title belts. Behind him, two young Japanese women follow, carrying boquets of flowers. Behind them are two men carrying a trophy. Yamashita enters the ring, and holds the ring ropes open for the women and the men carrying the trophy. Once everyone is in the ring, he presents the Gunryo tag team title belts to Maim & Pain, who put them around their waists. The attendants present them with their trophy, then the women give each man a boquet of flowers. They bow to the women, then lift the trophy up between them. The fans applaud, and many throw streamers into the ring] Otaku: What a great match! Six teams fought for this honor, and The Brute Squad came out on top. They earned this victory, and earned those titles. Ono: That they did Otaku. The Brute Squad defeated three of the six teams in this match to capture the Gunryo tag titles, They definitely earned them. [Yamashita, the women and attendants exit the ring, allowing The Brute Squad to revel in their hard fought victory] Otaku: We want to thank everyone at Pro Wrestling Revolution and Extreme Sports for allowing us to crown our first Gunryo tag team champions here at the J*STAR festival. We're getting ready to turn things over to the next announce team, but like everyone else, we plan on watching "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder and Joe Petrow battle it out later on tonight. [Maim & Pain exit the ring, and walk to the back, carrying their trophy between them] Ono: That match is another important one in SJPW's history. Brody Thunder isn't just fighting for himself; he's defending the honor of SJPW itself! Otaku: That's true Ono-san. Joe Petrow insulted our promotion, and insulted Thunder's family. We admit we're biased towards Thunder, since he's standing up for all of us. And on that note, we wish everyone a good night! [The shot cuts from the Japanese duo back to ringside where Jon Stegglet and Todd Michaelson are seated.] JS: Wow! What an exciting match that was! Our congratulations go out to the Brute Squad on their victory... as well as to Super Japan Pro Wrestling for starting off this night in impressive fashion. TM: And I'd like to return their thanks on behalf of J*STAR. We were very pleased and honored to have a promotion with the legacy of SJPW on our event and we hope to see more of their superstars in action stateside in the future. JS: Indeed. Well, Todd... some promotions that are being hosted on this event have long, storied histories like SJPW and NEO Pro. And some are making their debuts in the business... _tonight_. What makes you invite an unknown company like Aerial Wrestling Entertainment to the big event? TM: AWE gave us a killer proposal outlining what their promotion's going to be about and we were damn impressed. They've got some great ideas... some really innovative plans... and we just thought the wrestling fans around the world deserved the chance to see them in action. JS: The men who will compete in their match tonight have been trading strong words throughout the weeks leading up to this event. And we caught up with one of them earlier tonight. Let's take a look! [We fade away from the Staples Center arena, to a small, out of the way locker room deep within the bowels of the facility. The room itself is is far from fancy, more of a closet than anything else, with only two benches posing as furniture. Said benches are, at this moment, pulled close to one another, providing support for one Michael Kane as he balances across the two planks, doing the splits in an attempt to stretch himself out before his big event this evening. He's wearing only a pair of loose fitting gi pants, the rest of his body unclothed, as he breathes deeply in and out, eyes closed, deep in concentration; concentration that is soon broken by the sound of a door opening and closing off-camera. Kane's eyes fly open as he studies the unseen in intruder with interest before pushing off the bunches and rising to his feet. The camera slowly pans back, revealing none other than one of Kane's opponents for the evening...Kageboushi. The two competitors lock eyes for a moment, neither sure of the others' intentions. Seconds pass before Kane gives a subtle nod to his oppopent, which is returned.] K: ... MK: ... [Already in his ring attire, baggy sky blue Arabian pants, white wrestling boots with matching blue K's scribbled on the side of the boots. His lengthy shiny black hair hangs in his face slightly. A black AWE t-shirt covers Kageboushi's upper torso.] K: Listen, I just wanted to say good luck out there tonight, and may the best man win. [Kageboushi extends his hand, we see his fingers as well as wrists and midway up his forearm are taped with white athletic tape. Kane embraces immediately, as the young warriors continue to lock eyes.] K: ...and I hope you brought everything you've got, because I'm going out there with the intentions of putting on a once in a lifetime showing out there. I've brought all my goodies along. Don't hold back. Once that bell rings it's every man for himself. There is a lot riding out there, and I'll be damned if I let an opportunity like this pass me by. But I do look forward to the challenge. You have a good head on your shoulders, to go along with all the potential in the world. [Slight pause ... both men still gripping hands.] K: I hope by the end of the night, one of us leaves California a little heavier. [Kane nods, eyes still on Kage's.] MK: Yeah, well, seeing as how Venom hasn't been the most sociable guy around here, if it ain't me...and don't get me wrong, I'm gonna do everything in my power to make damn sure it is...I want that gold to go to someone who's gonna respect what it means. [Michael releases Kageboushi's hand, and returns to his benches, preparing for his next set of exercises as Kage turns around to leave. Michael then looks to his opponent.] MK: 'boushi? [Kageboushi turns back to Kane.] MK: Good luck out there....I'll try not to hurt ya too bad. [Kane grins as Kageboushi chuckles.] K: I'll keep that in mind. [And with that, we fade back to ringside.] JS: Some mutual respect on display between two of the men who will be competing for AWE here tonight. Because of the work involved in setting up the six-sided ring, we were forced to have that match occur in a different building. TM: That's right. We rented part of the Convention Center next door and that'll be the home for AWE today. JS: Fans, before we go over there... we've got a couple of quick announcements to make. Todd? TM: Let's do this right. [Michaelson removes his headset, taking a house mic offered by a ringside attendant.] TM: So... how we doin', fans? [HUGE POP! Michaelson cracks a wide smile.] TM: Good, good. On behalf of the J*STAR Festival, I'd like to thank you all for coming here tonight to take a chance on our wild dream. I'd like to thank you all for supporting us. [Pop!] TM: I hope you've enjoyed what you've seen so far... and I also hope that you'll enjoy everything else you'll see here tonight. [More cheers.] TM: Unfortunately... in a big event like this, some things happen that can't be avoided. [The crowd starts to buzz. "Bad news" sucks.] TM: I regret to inform you that tonight's scheduled Rumble Pro Wrestling matchup will not be taking place. [A mixture of boos and confusion are heard throughout the building.] TM: Again, we apologize for this... but it could not be avoided. Rumble Pro's officals were in town last night... their wrestlers were in town last night. But shortly after Travis Cade's loss in the tournament, everyone except Mr. Cade representing Rumble Pro pulled up stakes and left town. [More boos!] TM: We apologize... but we hope that the rest of the show will make up for this shortcoming. Also, as many of you are aware... there have been rumors on the internet... there has been talk in the "sheets". The rumor is that Caleb Temple is not here tonight... and will not be here tonight. [The crowd starts to buzz again.] TM: I regret to say that at this time, Mr. Temple is _not_ here. He's had several issues with the promotion of this event... from the promoters... to his widely discussed drug addiction. Whatever the reason is, at this point in time, Caleb Temple is not at Staples Center... and quite honestly, we do not expect him to be here. [HUGE HEEL POP! Michaelson visibly flinches at the reaction.] TM: I know, I know. But... well, the Killing Box match will still occur! It will still go down with or without Temple. [That soothes some of the fans... but not all.] TM: Thanks again for your understanding... and enjoy the show! [A far more mixed reaction for Michaelson as he hands the house mic back to the announcer, taking his seat at ringside.] JS: And with that... let's go to the Convention Center for our next matchup! [The shot cuts from the Staples Center to the AWE-RENA in the Los Angeles Convention Center next door to the arena. A "VIA SATELLITE" graphic sits in the lower right corner as the camera pans over the building, rabid with screaming fans. We cut to near-ringside, where standing there are the Aerial Wrestling Entertainment announcers, Jerry Bryson and "Slick" Dominic Spades. Bryson dressed metrosexually in a navy blue blazer with AWE t-shirt underneath, blue jeans, and backless clogs, while the former wrestler Spades is dressed in a J*STAR Festival t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of K-Swiss shoes. With the crowd cheering loudly and waving signs behind them, Spades and Bryson look into the camera, with Bryson speaking.] JB: WELCOME TO THE AWE-RENA, J*STAR! [LOUD CROWD POP~!] JB: I'm Jerry Bryson standing next to Dominic Spades, and we're ready to crown ourselves a champion! Though we've already experienced our fair share of problems leading to this point, Aerial Wrestling Entertainment is ready to explode onto your television screens! DS: Christ, Jerry, could you be any _more_ corny? You know we're not about talking... we're about _showing_. And tonight, we're going to show _everyone_ what we're all about. Three of the brightest young talents are going to climb into that ring, with the AWE Rising Star Title on the line. What's so hard about cutting to the chase? JB: Erm... right. Michael Kane, with only a handful of matches under his belt, takes on the mysterious Kageboushi _and_ the former I-X mainstay, Venom. This match will mark Kageboushi's return to the United States, and he's got one _hell_ of a test in front of him. Then there's the opinionated Venom, who has gone against the aerial style! DS: Ain't a thing wrong with going against it, Jerry. As a matter of fact, that could be what sets Venom apart from the other two -- well, that and the fact that he's had a lot more experience inside the ring. # ZZZT! # [The screen begins to flicker, as if a video feed problem. Bryson and Spades have no idea.] JB: Don't count out Kane, though. This rookie could surprise us _all_ tonight by walking out of here as champion. # ZZZT! # [Once again, the picture flickers, cutting out for a few moments.] DS: There's no point in -- # ZZZT! # -- might as well -- # ZZZT! # -- ringside. [The picture looks absolutely horrible now, fading in and out.] JB: # ZZZT! # There -- # ZZZT! # -- in -- # ZZZT! # [Suddenly, the picture goes completely to snow, a loud noise accompanying it. After a few moments, we cut back to the Staples Center. Jon Stegglet looks confused... Todd Michaelson looks pissed.] JS: Um, fans... we appear to be having some technical difficulties here. We've lost the feed to the Convention Center next door apparently. I'm not quite sure- Todd? TM: I don't know what the fuck's going on. JS: TODD! TM: Sorry. Excuse me for a second. [Michaelson removes his headset again, shouting at a nearby technical director who shrugs his shoulders, listening through his own headset.] JS: Fans... while we try and get this under control, let's go back to the locker room area where I understand NEO Pro competitor Derek Irvin is making his way into the building! [We cut backstage to see Derek Irvin walking in his street clothes, black duffel bag over his shoulder. He is about to enter the locker room when he hears a voice.] Voice: Hey Derek, wait up! [Irvin turns around, and a slight smile crosses his face as current PWR stars Tyson Bryson and Matt James enter the picure.] DI: Hey guys. [Irvin greets each one and sets his bag down for the moment.] DI: Good you see you. How you guys doing? TB: Eh, not bad, not bad. Just plugging along, you know? DI: How's the back, Matty? MJ: Getting better. Might be able to return to the ring sooner than later. DI: That's awesome. When you do, you guys should come to NEO-Pro. MJ: Yeah, I was thinking that might be cool. Derek Irvin and Debonair, back like the old days. TB: Well, yeah...though we're pretty busy here and everything. I gotta beat that Dufresne bitch, ya know? [Bryson chuckles.] TB: So um, anyways, you gonna beat Psicopa tonight or what? DI: Yeah, I think so. MJ: Well, just know that we're here, man. So if you need us tonight...if you need any, you know..."ringside assistance". DI: I think I'll be alright. I've been getting used to doing shit on my own for a while. And trust me, I'm not gonna have a problem beating Psicopa tonight. [Slight pause.] DI: But thanks for the offer. MJ: Yeah, yeah, sure thing. TB: Well we'd better let you get ready for the big match. DI: Good seeing you guys. MJ: You too. DI: I'll see you guys around I'm sure. TB: Hell yeah. [Irvin enters the locker room, leaving Bryson and James standing outside it.] TB: I can't believe he doesn't want our help. MJ: No kidding. What's this world coming to? [Back to ringside we go.] JS: Fans, welcome back. Todd? [Michaelson sighs deeply.] TM: I just got off the phone with a representative from AWE. They claim the technical problem was... intentional. JS: Huh? TM: I have no idea. But apparently... well, I don't know. I guess we can scrap them from the schedule as well. I know this looks bad, fans... but I promise you... this event will be worth every damn dime you spent. I guarantee it. JS: It just means everyone else in the arena needs to step up a notch. TM: Damn right. And you can bet that our next match _will_ happen. JS: Hehe. The Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Title match is set to begin... so let's hand things over to our good friend. Jason, you there? [The camera cuts to the upper levels of the building where PWR announcer Jason Dane is standing. He's wearing a black sportscoat over an orange PWR t-shirt... and a big grin.] JD: You bet I am, Steggster! And screw the rest of the promotions who can't hold up their end of the deal. PWR is here and in the end, that's all you fuckin' need! Calisto Dufresne is about to defend his Pacific Title for the very first time in front of this sold-out crowd... and he's gotta be nervous as hell sitting in the back right now. On the other hand, City Jack has seen larger crowds than the rookie... but nothing like this. These two have been at war for several weeks, leading all the way back to Dufresne using a foreign object to pin City Jack to become the Pacific Champion in the first place. CJ won a number one contender's match a month or two later... and was assaulted in the parking lot after the match with a tire iron to the knee. [Dane takes a deep breath with a grin.] JD: And all that... leads to this! Without anything further, let's go down to Melissa Cannon for the introductions! [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon stands in a tied-off at the waist black M-DOJO t-shirt with her black jeans... indy chicks make shit for money, you know?] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit and is for the Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Championship! [Nice ovation from the SoCal crowd cheering on the hometown promotion.] MC: And that title _will_ change hands tonight if the match ends in the countout or disqualification of the champion! [Another nice pop from those who know Dufresne's shady character. The cheers grow louder as Chet Atkins' take of "Classical Gas" begins, bringing a huge pop out of the crowd for the challenger, fan favorite, and underdog for the match - City Jack.] JD: And here comes the challenger. [The big man from Kentucky walks down the aisle with a mixed look on his face. A half smile for the opportunity to win the Pacific Title, but also one of determination to prove he's worth the title's name and able to beat his upstart opponent. City Jack's wearing his brown wrestling singlet and a black "Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death" T-shirt. As well, over his singlet, Jack's got on a pair of black metal knee braces to support him. The braces and the slight limp show that Jack's still feeling the effects of Dufresne's vicious attack a month earlier.] JD: City Jack with some heavy metal braces on his legs... you can see that Calisto Dufresne's assault on him with a tire iron last month really did some damage. He's got a big obstacle to overcome here tonight if he plans on becoming the Pacific Champion. [As Jack enters the ring, he does a short jig and then holds his hands in the air as he faces the fans for another pop. City Jack looks around the arena - easily the largest audience the indy superstar has ever performed for - with some awe, but then a large smile. The smile immediately vanishes as the arena lights begin to flicker slightly as the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to blare across the sound system, the crowd responding to the music with a chorus of boos. The camera cuts to the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal one of PWR's most despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.] JD: And here comes the champ! [Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his flowing blonde hair cascading down past his shoulders. He stands at the head of the entryway for many moments, soaking in all of the boos he probably thinks are cheers from his "throngs of adoring fans". He finally begins to make his way towards the ring, ignoring every fan who is screaming obscenities at him. They just hate him because he's beautiful. Yeah, that's it. Dufresne finally makes it to the ring, where he proceeds to step in through the ring ropes.] JD: No love lost for the Pacific Champion, not from the crowd nor from City Jack. Dufresne's gone out of his way to insult the big challenger on every occasion and tonight... well, tonight we'll find out if payback truly is a bitch. ["The Ladykiller" then proceeds to move to the center of the ring and slowly remove his three-piece suit, mostly to the chagrin of the male audience, but a few female shrieks are heard from the crowd as well. Dufresne finally finishes removing his suit, and now proceeds to pose for the crowd, flexing his well-defined muscles as the crowd's ever-increasing boos become more and more evident. Dufresne sneers derisively at the crowd as he moves to the corner, handing the golden title belt to the official, preparing for the start of the match.] JD: Referee Patrick Rodriguez will be the man in the middle for this one... and that's what it's all about. The Pacific Championship. [Rodriguez holds the shiny belt high in the air for one and all to see as Melissa Cannon continues the introductions.] MC: Fans, introducing first... the challenger... he hails from Liberty, Kentucky... standing 6'2 and weighing in at 309 pounds... he is the number one contender... CITY JACK! [A huge pop for the lovable character as he lifts a beefy forearm to the air to salute the cheering fans.] MC: And his opponent... he is the Pacific Champion... standing 6'3 and weighing in at 245 pounds... originally from Avery Island, Louisiana... he is the Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Champion... "THE LADYKILLER" CALISTOOOOOOOOOO DUUUUUUUUUUUUFRESNE!!! [The cocky champion thrusts both arms in the air, gesturing with his hands for "more cheers". He looks annoyed at the boos, glaring out over the crowd before turning his attention back towards his challenger.] MC: J*STAR fans, for the official title match proclamation, please welcome PWR Owner/Operator...Todd Michaelson! [Huge pop for the color man/promoter/you name it, he does it! guy!] TM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Staples Center, home of the battle of wills to crown one man as the Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Champion! [Big pop!] TM: It is here in Los Angeles that the Pro Wrestling Revolution matchmakers have submitted to you the finest that our sport has to offer to do battle for the greatest prize we can present, the Pacific Championship. By the honor and prestige of Pro Wrestling Revolution and with all the pride and dignity it holds dear, we offer to you this conflict of strength, skill, and fighting spirit. To you, the People of the Revolution... Prepare for TOUUUUUUUUKOOOOOOOONNNNN!!! [Michaelson concludes the proclamation to a mixed pop from a crowd that majority of which has never seen such a ceremony done. The PWR owner moves to shake hands with both wrestlers as well as the referee before he exits the ring with Melissa Cannon leaving referee Rodriguez to give a few last second instructions to both men. JD: The referee making sure both men are aware that on this night, the title _can_ change hands on a countout or a disqualification. Calisto Dufresne can't be happy about that as much as he's gotten counted out or DQd lately. This is his first defense of that title he won a few months ago and it doesn't get any bigger than this. [Rodriguez concludes his statements to both men... and gestures for the bell to start the match.] JD: There's the bell and this one is underway! [City Jack stands in the center of the ring, eyes burning a hole through the arrogant champion who strides from the corner to the middle of the squared circle and bumps chests with the big Southerner, going toe to toe with him.] JD: We've got ourselves a staredown. You can see a very slight height edge for Dufresne but an obvious weight advantage for City Jack. He'll be the powerhouse in this one. Dufresne will need to stay away from the brawling... stay away from the power moves. He needs to be quick. Stick and move. [Dufresne fires a few words off at the big man, bringing a red flame of anger to his cheeks.] JD: Wouldn't you like to be able to read lips right now? What on earth could he possibly have to say to City Jack right before this match gets- "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: What did the five fingers say to the face?!? Dufresne just slapped the taste right out of City Jack's mouth! I don't know what the hell he's thinking but that can't be- [A big ovation goes up as the challenger explodes with a clothesline that takes Dufresne down to the mat.] JD: A big clothesline gets things going... and Jack looks to be moving pretty stiffly on that injured wheel. He's going to have a tough time here tonight if that's the quickest he can move. [The Pacific Champion quickly scampers back to his feet, shaking off the effects of the big clothesline... ...and gets knocked right back down with a second clothesline! Pop!] JD: Calisto Dufresne's getting taken to town by the challenger! City Jack is winding up! He just slapped that forearm! We've got a Metropill on the- [But before City Jack can uncork the massive forearm shot known as the Metropill, Dufresne wisely bails out through the ropes, dropping down to the floor. He backs away from the ring, shaking his head and pointing to his brain.] JD: Some ring intelligence on display by the champion. He felt it coming... he knew a potential knockout blow was en route. So, he bailed from the ring to try and get back on his battle plan. [Dufresne walks around outside the ring, glaring at City Jack who smirks at him before sitting down on the middle rope, inviting the champion back inside the squared circle.] JD: City Jack's inviting him back in. He wants to continue this fight...and there's a good chance that's what we're going to see... a fight. After all the taunts, the insults, the attacks both verbal and physical. Hell, Dufresne's even been using City Jack's Metroboom as a finisher at recent PWR shows. This is very, very personal for City Jack. [Dufresne flips off City Jack then walks all the way to the opposite side of the ring before stepping up on the ring apron.] JD: Listen to him bark away at our official. Like it's Patrick's fault that City Jack put him on his ass. Dufresne's just trying to get in the head of the challenger and I, for one, don't imagine that's going to work. [The Pacific Champion is still complaining as he steps through the ropes into the ring... and promptly flips off City Jack again.] JD: He wants the big man to lose it! He wants City Jack to chase him around on that bad knee and tire himself out. [But City Jack simply grins, waving for Dufresne to come back to the middle of the ring. Dufresne kicks the bottom rope in agitation.] JD: He can't get in City Jack's head! The big man is focused firmly on Dufresne and the Pacific Title and he's not going to get thrown off course by Dufresne's antics! [An irate Dufresne locks up in a collar and elbow, trying to push City Jack across the ring... but with the power and weight advantage, Dufresne has no chance.] JD: City Jack easily pushes Dufresne back to the corner... the ref's calling for a break. Will we get a clean break? [Surprisingly, the Southerner does break cleanly, stepping back... ...but Dufresne has other ideas.] JD: Right hand! A cheap shot by Dufresne! He winds up again and- blocked! [A huge haymaker from the challenger puts Dufresne back down on the mat to a huge pop... and he quickly rolls under the ropes to the floor.] JD: The champion bails out again! Calisto Dufresne's been thrown completely off by City Jack so far and he's looking for a way out of this match in a hurry. [The crowd begins to buzz as Dufresne grabs his title belt off the timekeeper's table and begins walking back up the ramp, waving away the boos of the fans.] JD: What? Dufresne is leaving?! If he does this... if he gets counted out... he loses that Pacific Title to City Jack! If he gets counted out, we've got a new champion! [The "Ladykiller" continues walking down the ramp... and then suddenly turns around as the referee begins counting.] JD: Dufresne may be rethinking this... he knows he's in trouble. But is he in enough trouble to lose the title right here and now? [The referee's count reaches four... five... six.] JD: The Pacific Champion is clutching that belt with white knuckles. He doesn't want to ever let it go... especially in his first title defense. [Dufresne looks around at the roaring crowd, realizing what he's about to do... ...and starts to head back to the ring to a big pop!] JD: Calisto's coming back! Dufresne's going back to the ring. [And as the referee reaches nine, Dufresne throws down the title belt on the ramp and steps on the ring apron, breaking the count.] JD: The ref stopped the count! Dufresne beats the count back to the ring... but he still needs to find a way to get back on track in this one. [Dufresne waves the referee over.] JD: I think the champion's complaining about the closed fist that City Jack used to knock him down. The ref is saying that Dufresne used one first! [An agitated champion again mimes getting hit with a clenched fist.] JD: He wants City Jack to be DQd for a closed fist punch?! Who the hell _ever_ gets DQd for that?! [Tired of waiting, City Jack moves in on the bitching Dufresne... ...and gets an extended thumb jabbed into his eye! Heel pop!] JD: Oh! Cheap shot by Dufresne! He went to the eyes of City Jack... knocking the challenger back. City Jack staggers away from the ropes, rubbing at his eyes. [Dufresne slips into the ring and hurls his body at the back of City Jack's injured knee, driving his shoulder into the wounded limb and taking the challenger down to the mat.] JD: CLIP! He clipped him! [The champion quickly scampers to his feet, grabbing City Jack by the foot and lifting it high in the air... ...before _slamming_ the kneecap down on the canvas!] JD: OHHHHHH! Calisto Dufresne smells blood in the water. He knows that knee is hurt and hurt badly and he's looking for the kill. [Scampering to his feet, the "Ladykiller" begins viciously stomping the injured knee. City Jack reaches down to his metal-braced leg, trying to cover it up... but still suffering tremendous pain from the blows.] JD: That brace isn't protecting him from those stomps. Dufresne is all over him like a fly on sh- spinning toe hold! [The crowd roars as Dufresne attempts to twist the leg into a spinning toehold... ...but grows louder as City Jack reaches up, pulling Dufresne down into a cradle!] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- [HUGE DISAPPOINTED POP!] JD: Goodness! I thought he had him right there, fans. What a shocker that would have been for the Pacific Champion to lose the title on an inside cradle! We almost had a new Pacific Champion! [Breathing a sigh of relief, Dufresne quickly gets to his feet and kicks City Jack in the kneecap, preventing him from getting back to his feet.] JD: Right back to the knee. There's a very obvious plan of attack here for Calisto Dufresne and it's to go right after the knee that he injured with a tire iron a month ago. [A few more stomps to the knee follow, bringing an anguished expression to City Jack's face.] JD: Jack needs to get off the mat... he needs to get back on his feet and figure out a way to use his power, his size to his advantage. [The Pacific Champion drags City Jack off the canvas, struggling to get his three hunded plus pounds up... ...and _drops_ him legfirst across a bent knee!] JD: Shinbreaker by Dufresne! It took a nice show of strength to even get City Jack off the mat... but Dufresne did manage to do it. He dropped him right down on the knee! [Shoving City Jack back down to the canvas, Dufresne hangs on to the foot, looking out over the roaring crowd.] "FIGURE FOUR!" [The crowd roars as Dufresne twists the leg into a spinning toehold... but as he looks to complete it, he gets kicked off into the turnbuckles! Pop!] JD: City Jack counters it again! Twice, Dufresne has gone for a submission hold on that injured knee... and twice, he's been thwarted! [The big Southerner pushes himself up to his feet, hobbling towards the corner where Dufresne is standing.] JD: City Jack's moving in now and- right hand by Dufresne! [But the challenger swats away the punch, cocking his arm back... ...and letting it fly!] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: METROPILL! METROPILL!! [The high impact forearm shot connects squarely with the side of Dufresne's face, sending him sailing backwards into the buckles.] JD: Whoa! What a shot that was! He almost send Dufresne over the ropes and down to the cold concrete floor! [Grabbing the dazed champion by the wrist, City Jack _fires_ him across the ring, sending him crashing spinefirst into the turnbuckles! Pop!] JD: Oh! Hard whip to the corner... and look at City Jack, struggling to make his way across the ring. He's got a bad limp going from that injured knee. [The big man slowly makes his way to the opposite corner where he grabs Dufresne by the wrist again.] JD: Another whip! [But this one has so much force involved, Calisto Dufresne goes sailing over the ropes, crashing down to the unforgiving concrete floor below! Huge pop!] JD: Goodness! ABUUUUUUUUNAAAAAAAAAAI! [The Japanese cry for "danger" seems very fitting as Dufresne lies on the floor flat on his back, sucking wind into his pain-ravaged body.] JD: Dufresne's barely moving on the floor... and Jack's going out after him. City Jack rolls out to the floor, moving in on the Pacific Champion. [Pulling Dufresne up by the hair, Jack _hurls_ him towards the wooden entry ramp.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [The crowd explodes in cheers as Dufresne flips through the air, his spine slamming into the solid wooden elevated platform!] JD: To the ramp! Dufresne gets fired into the wooden ramp! [The challenger leans over, pulling Dufresne up by the hair... and scooping him up onto his shoulder.] JD: A powerslam on the floor? He's pointing to the post! He's gonna drive Dufresne headfirst into the ringpost! He's going to- [But before he can send him to the steel, Dufresne manages to slip off the shoulder and let loose a mighty shove to the back... ...which sends City Jack _crashing_ into the steel barricade, slumping down to the concrete floor.] JD: OH MY! The challenger got posted by the champion... and Dufresne tugs him up to his feet, rolling him back into the ring. [With Jack down on the mat, Dufresne lunges through the ropes to cover... placing his feet firmly on the middle rope.] JD: FEET ON THE ROPE! FEET ON THE ROPE!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- [Huge pop!] JD: The referee saw the feet! He stopped counting because he saw Calisto Dufresne's feet on the middle rope for leverage! [An irate Pacific Champion gets to his feet, shoving the referee back to the corner.] JD: Leave Patrick alone, Dufresne! He's just doing his job! [After a few moments of bullying the official, Dufresne turns back towards a recovering City Jack who is slumped in the corner.] JD: City Jack looks out on his feet and that's exactly the way Calisto Dufresne wants him. Winding up... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JD: Ohhh! Big chop by the champion! Dufresne is- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JD: Another one! Right across the chest! [City Jack cringes from the impact of the chops, arms draped over the ropes to stay on his feet.] JD: Dufresne pulls Jack's leg off the mat, hooking it over the second rope... which exposes that injured knee! The champion is- ohhh! Big kick to the knee! [The referee races to the corner, trying to pull Dufresne out as he drives kick after kick after kick into the injured knee.] JD: Come on, Patrick! Break this up! [After a few more kicks, the referee physically shoves Dufresne away... who runs straight to the ropes, rebounding back... ...and driving _both_ feet into the trapped knee with a dropkick!] JD: Give me a break, Patrick! Get him out of there! [Dufresne smirks as he climbs back to his feet. The official frees City Jack from the ropes, allowing him to stagger from the buckles... right into Dufresne's waiting arms.] JD: Fireman's carry lift! He scoops up the big man! Impressive show of strength and- [The Pacific Champion begins rotating in an airplane spin and after a couple rotations... ...swings out City Jack, dropping him with an Ace Crusher! Huge mixed pop!] JD: Wow! Dufresne showing some power right there and- cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [HUGE POP!] JD: Shoulder up! City Jack got the shoulder up! [An irate Dufresne springs to his feet, again shouting at Rodriguez... again backing him down.] JD: Dufresne has it out for Patrick Rodriguez tonight! He just won't let the referee do his job in peace. He grabs the foot... figure four! [For the third time in the match, Dufresne applies the spinning toehold... the prelude to the figure four... ...and for the third time in the match, he comes up dry as City Jack snares him by the head, pulling him into an inside cradle!] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [MASSIVE DISAPPOINTED POP!] JD: So close! So close! We were just a heartbeat away from crowning a new Pacific Champion! City Jack almost struck gold here in Los Angeles! [Both men regain their feet at roughly the same time... and City Jack strikes first, _lunging_ at Dufresne with a clothesline... ...one that sends both men toppling over the ropes and crashing down to the concrete floor below! Huge pop!] JD: OHHHHHH MY! All the way down to the hard floor! City Jack went for it all right there and he may have done more harm than good. Jack immediately grabbed for his knee upon hitting the floor and he may have landed right on it. [With the pain-filled wails coming from the challenger, the champion manages to hook his arms over the metal railing, dragging himself up to his feet.] JD: Dufresne's back to his feet... leans down to pull Jack off the floor. "CLAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" JD: To the railing! City Jack goes sailing backfirst into that metal barricade! Calisto Dufresne may be on the verge of retaining his title right here on the biggest stage of them all. [Reaching over the railing, Dufresne snatches a steel chair out from under a security guard.] JD: What the-?! He's got a chair! [The crowd begins to buzz as Dufresne folds up the chair, glaring at a motionless City Jack... ...and rears waaaaaaaay back!] JD: He'll lose the title if he does it! If he hits City Jack with the chair, we've got a new Pacific Champion! [Dufresne pauses... almost as if hearing Dane's words. He glares at City Jack, helpless to defend himself... and starts to swing the chair.] JD: NOOOOOO! [But at the last moment... he stops. Dufresne stops, curses... and throws the chair aside to a big mixed pop from the J*STAR crowd.] JD: So close. We almost had a new champion. I don't know what Dufresne was thinking but something obviously changed his mind. Referee Patrick Rodriguez was just watching... perfectly willing to let Dufresne screw himself! [With the chair tossed aside, Dufresne drags Jack off the railing by the wrist.] JD: Irish whi- reversed! "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" [MASSIVE POP!] JD: HEADFIRST TO THE POST!! DUFRESNE EATS THE STEEL RINGPOST!! [Dufresne snaps back from the impact, staggering over to City Jack... who hurls the Ladykiller under the ropes into the ring.] JD: The champion back in... now the challenger... and we've got a cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! TH- [The crowd boos as Dufresne lifts the shoulder up. Nonplussed, City Jack stands up off the mat... pauses... ...and drops all three hundred pounds down across the chest of Dufresne with a belly flop splash!] JS: SPLASH! BIG SPLASH! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [Huge disappointed pop!] JD: By the reaction of the crowd, I think a lot of people thought City Jack had it won right there. Jack pushes himself back to his feet again, still obviously favoring that injured knee. He moves back to the corner, sucking some wind in. For a big man, he moves pretty well but he definitely needs some time to catch his breath more than others. [With City Jack resting in the corner, the Pacific Champion slowly regains his feet... but remains doubled over, still in pain from the splash.] JD: Both men up... Jack moves out of the corner... [And with a short run, he _drives_ his metal knee brace up into the face of the Pacific Champion, sending him sailing backwards before crashing down to the canvas below!] JD: OHHHHH MY! What a kneelift! City Jack with that metal brace just drove it up into the face of the champion! [Dufresne lies flat on his face for a moment, face covered up with his arms.] JD: City Jack needs to keep up the pressure. He's got Dufresne in trouble and he needs to- oh my god! [As Jack pulls Dufresne off the canvas, we catch a glimpse of the Pacific Champion... forehead split wide open with crimson running down his face.] JD: Sweet Jesus! The Pacific Champion has been busted open... and this is the first time in Pro Wrestling Revolution history that someone has bled profusely during a sanctioned match! We're making history tonight in Los Angeles... here at J*STAR! [The now-bleeding Pacific Champion crawls away from City Jack, trying to get a breather. A big grin crosses the face of the Southerner as he catches a view of Dufresne's bloody face.] JD: City Jack said he'd make him bleed! He promised to make Dufresne bleed here tonight at J*STAR and he's lived up to his word. [A mighty shove sends Dufresne crashing to the buckles and allows City Jack to step up to the middle rope, raining punches down on the skull of the "Ladykiller".] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" [Jack drops down from the buckles, grimacing as his knee gets more pressure put on it. He does a little jig as he looks at the increasing bloodflow pouring down the champion's face.] JD: Obviously, the big man is happy with his work so far. Dufresne staggers out of the corner... big scoop... and he slams him down with authority! [The challenger reaches down to adjust his leg brace so that the bulk of the metal is facing down... ...and then leaps in the air, _driving_ the brace down across the face of Dufresne with a legdrop! Huge pop!] JD: LEGDROP! Right down on the face! That metal knee brace just _slammed_ into the face of the Pacific Champion! [Jack stays with his leg across the face, gesturing for the referee to make the count.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [HUGE DISAPPOINTED POP!] JD: Still not enough! I may make fun of Dufresne's courage and fighting spirit... but he's showing how tough he is here tonight. For those not impressed by his victory at Who's The King where he won the title in a multiman matchup, you've gotta be impressed by him here tonight. [Jack pulls himself back to his feet, leaving Dufresne to drag himself to the corner where he hopes to find a safe refuge.] JD: Jack's questioning the count... he thought it was a little slow. Dufresne's sitting in the corner, trying to regroup... trying to- [The crowd buzzes as City Jack moves to the corner, pressing his metal knee brace against the face of the Pacfic Champion.] JD: Oh my god. This might be too much... this might be- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: Facewash! He raked the kneebrace across the face of the Pacific Champion! [The challenger continues the assault with kneebraces to the face.] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [Jack finally retreats from the buckles, revealing a badly bloodied Dufresne. Blood pours from the wound on his head, having been ripped even wider by the kneebrace.] JD: What a brutal assault by the challenger! Dufresne's a bloody, bloody mess! He's sporting the crimson mask here tonight! [The big Southerner backs away from Dufresne as the bloodied champion tries to regain his feet using the ropes for help.] JD: City Jack... three point stance! [And as Dufresne reaches his feet, City Jack races towards him out of the three point stance.] JD: CLOTHESLIIIIIIIIIIIIIN- [DEAFENING SHOCKED POP!] JD: Oh my god! Dufresne dropped down, pulling the ropes with him... and City Jack flew all the way over the ropes and down to the concrete floor below! My god in heaven! [Still on the canvas, Dufresne rolls under the ropes to the floor where he promptly grabs the foot of his challenger... ...and _plants_ the injured knee on the concrete floor! Huge heel pop!] JD: On the floor?! A brutal assault on the knee on the concrete floor! Dufresne's trying to break the patella of his challenger and end this match in a hurry! [Dufresne pulls both legs off the floor, hooking them for what appears to be a Boston Crab. But instead, he falls back, catapulting City Jack into the air and over the steel railing!] JD: CITY JACK GETS SENT TO THE CROWD!! [The fans in the area quickly scatter, trying to help and fleeing at the same time.] JD: The challenger is stuck in the crowd... Dufresne rolls into the ring. [And immediately starts yelling at Patrick Rodriguez to count City Jack out of the match.] JD: What a coward! He wants City Jack counted out! He wants this match over right now. He knows he's in trouble... he knows his title is in danger so he wants to take the coward's way out. [Rodriguez reluctantly begins.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" [The crowd grows louder, chanting for the Southerner as the fans at ringside start to help the big man back to his feet.] JD: They're helping him up! These fans don't want to see it end this way either! They're trying to get him back in the ring! "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" [The ringside fans shove City Jack over the railing, the man staggering towards the ring apron.] "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TE-" [But before the ten count falls, City Jack rolls his huge body under the ropes into the ring, breaking the count to a massive pop from the J*STAR Festival crowd.] JD: It's not over yet, Dufresne! The big man is still alive! [Furious at the ringside fans, Dufresne stands on the middle rope screaming at them. He hops down to the ring, angrily kicking the ropes over and over before pulling City Jack off the mat... ...and into a front facelock!] JD: He's going for the DDT! Going for Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am! If he hits this, it's over! [But before he can spike the challenger to the mat, City Jack lunges forward, shoving Dufresne backfirst into the turnbuckles!] JD: The champ to the buckles... he staggers out... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [MASSIVE POP!] JD: Metropill! That huge forearm on target! [Dufresne's eyes glaze over as he falls back into the buckles again... then staggers back out... barely able to stand on his own... ...right into City Jack's waiting arms!] JD: Bearhug! He's going for the Metroboom! He's going for- [City Jack hoists Dufresne off the mat, attempting to pivot into the belly to belly suplex portion of the move... ...but the injured knee won't allow him to put weight down to make the pivot.] JD: Oh! He dropped him! City Jack couldn't plant the foot to make the pivot! He let Dufresne go and- [Dufresne deadleaps into the air, snaring City Jack's head with his legs... ...and _spikes_ it into the canvas!] JD: FRANKENSTEINER! A headspiking rana by the champion... and he throws himself across City Jack! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [DEAFENING POP!] JD: HE KICKED OUT!! THE BIG SON OF A BITCH KICKED OUT AGAIN!!! [The fans roar, chanting in unison.] "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" "CI-TY JACK!" [The Southerner starts to move, trying to get back to his feet. But several feet away, Calisto Dufresne is down on a knee with some evil intentions.] JD: The "Ladykiller" is dipping into his boot... what the hell is he-?! [The crowd explodes in jeers as Dufresne stands up... and holds a metal chain high for one and all to see. He quickly wraps his hand in the chain, cocking his fist back.] JD: The ref sees him with the chain! If he does this, it's over! It's all over if he hits City Jack with the chain and we'll have a new Pacific Champion! [As the Southerner staggers towards him, Dufresne unloads... ...but is stopped in mid-swing by the referee!] JD: He blocked it! Patrick blocked it! And he's going for the chain! The referee is fighting over the chain with Dufrense and- [The Pacific Champion gets the chain ripped from his hand... and as he turns...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JD: METROPILL!! HE HIT THE METROPILL AGAIN!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [MASSIVE DISAPPOINTED POP!] JD: FOOT ON THE ROPES! HE GOT THE FOOT ON THE ROPES!! Dufresne was done for right there... if he was in the center of the ring, we'd have a new Pacific Champion! [City Jack reaches down, pulling Dufresne up by the hair...] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JD: LOW BLOW!! LOW BLOW!! DUFRESNE GOES LOW!! [And Patrick Rodriguez is about to call for the bell to end the match... ...but stops. And waves for the match to continue.] JD: He doesn't want to end the match that way! He doesn't want to- what the hell?! [Dufresne reaches into his other boot.] JD: CHAIN! He's got another chain! [But this time, Rodriguez cuts him off before he can wrap his fist with it. The two men argue violently, pulling the chain back and forth.] JD: They're fighting over the chain again... the referee and the Pacific Champion are- [Grimacing in pain, City Jack charges towards Dufresne... ...who tugs the referee right in the path!] JD: OHHHHH! City Jack accidentally levelled the referee! Calisto Dufresne pulled the referee in the way and... my god, the ref is out cold! City Jack had no intention of doing it but the ref is down... and we're in trouble, fans! We've got a big time match going on with no referee! [City Jack looks down at the mat, shaking his head in disbelief as he sees the floored referee. And then... he leans over, picking something up.] JD: CITY JACK'S GOT THE CHAIN!!! The challenger's got the chain and- oh my! He's wrapping his fist in the steel chain! He's gonna knock the champion out cold with his own weapon! He's going to- [A big heel pop erupts as Matthew Yates' attorney, Jonathan H. Smith, races down the elevated ramp towards the ring.] JD: What the hell is _he_ doing out here?! [All eyes turn to the lawyer as he reaches the ring apron, gasping for air... ...and drawing the attention of City Jack.] JD: Jack doesn't understand... why the hell is the lawyer out here? [City Jack echoes a similar question a bit more... colorfully.] JD: Smith has all of Jack's attention... he's going to- [The camera zooms in on Dufresne, starting to get back to his feet. It quickly pans to Smith... a pair of brass knuckles being held behind his back.] JD: Jack! Jack! He's got knucks! He's got- [Tired of waiting for an answer, City Jack unloads with a right hand that knocks Smith down on the ramp... ...but he misses Smith throwing the brass knuckles into the ring!] JD: Dufresne is... dammit, he's got the brass knuckles! This is how he won the damn title to begin with! This is how he- HE'S GOT THE KNUCKS ON! [The Pacific Champion staggers to his feet, brass knuckles at the ready...and waits for City Jack to turn around. As he does, Dufresne cocks his fist...] JD: KNUCKS! [HUGE POP!] JD: City Jack blocked! Jack blocked and- [DEAFENING POP!] JD: HE HIT HIM WITH THE CHAIN!!! HE HIT DUFRESNE WITH THE STEEL CHAIN!!! [Jack quickly takes the chain off his hand, tossing it aside as he drops down into a lateral press.] JD: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOUR!!! FOUR?!?! [The crowd buzzes as the referee starts to stir... but far too late to count the current pin attempt.] JD: City Jack had it won! The referee was down but City Jack had it won with that chain-wrapped right hand! [Jack pushes himself off the mat, shaking his head in disbelief as he moves to help the dazed referee up off the canvas.] JD: The challenger's trying to get the referee up... he's trying to revive the referee to make the three count. Dufresne's out cold... there's no way he's- [But as soon as City Jack turns his back to help the referee, the crowd begins to buzz as someone starts racing through the crowd to the ring.] JD: What the-?! The fans are reacting to something. Someone's running through the crowd towards the ring but I can't quite see who- [The young man hurdles the barricade with ease, racing past security and sliding headfirst into the ring where he picks the steel chain off the canvas.] JD: It's Matthew Yates! What the hell is Yates doing in the ring?! Why the hell is he involved with this match?! City Jack has no idea he's in there and- [Yates climbs to his feet, hand wrapped in the discarded steel chain and as City Jack turns...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [A bone-shaking palm strike rockets upwards, cracking City Jack upside the head, flipping him through the air before dumping him down to the canvas!] JD: XLERATOR! XLERATOR! With a god damn steel chain! [Yates grabs Dufresne by the arm, dragging it across a motionless City Jack... and swiftly slides from the ring... ...just as the referee staggers back to his feet.] JD: NO!! NOT LIKE THIS!!! ONE!!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! [DING DING DING] JD: Damn him! Damn Matthew Yates! Damn Jonathan H. Smith! And most of all, damn Calisto Dufresne! He kept the damn title... but City Jack got screwed, dammit! He got screwed! [Melissa Cannon grabs the mic as Patrick Rodriguez drops the belt on a barely conscious champion.] MC: Your winner of the match... and still Pacific Champion... CALISTO DUFRESNNNNNNNNE!!! [Huge heel pop! The dazed Pacific Champion cradles the belt tightly to his chest, rolling under the ropes to the ramp where Jonathan H. Smith helps him to his feet, the duo making their way back up the aisle.] JD: Well, fans... we hope you enjoyed this tidbit of Pro Wrestling Revolution action! We obviously were hoping things went a little different in the end but I'm sure there'll be another day for City Jack. For all the wrestlers of PWR, we thank you and good night! Jon, Todd... back to you! [We cut back to ringside where Jon Stegglet and Todd Michaelson are sitting. Michaelson is beaming at the performance of his promotion as Stegglet speaks.] JS: A hell of a show put on by Pro Wrestling Revolution and this show gets better and better as the night goes on. You must be very proud, Todd Michaelson. TM: I certainly am. I definitely would have liked to see Dufresne defend the title without outside help... but they put on a hell of a match and I have very few complaints. Jason's right. There'll be another day for City Jack, I'm sure. But tonight, PWR made their debut on the national stage and did me very proud. JS: And as the show rolls on, the bar gets raised higher and higher. Just imagine what'll have to go down in that Killing Box later tonight to top what we've already seen this weekend. TM: I'm sure Alex Martinez and Jeff Matthews will be more than up to the challenge. JS: Indeed. But they won't be the only ones trying to steal the show tonight. Later this evening, we will see NEO Pro's own show stealers, Derek Irvin and Psicopa do battle in a two out of three falls match to end their feud. TM: That's right. And their matches to date have won countless amounts of praise and awards including a Match of the Year nod by many in the industry. Tonight? They settle it. JS: We caught up with Psicopa earlier today. Let's see what's on his mind so close to this big showdown! [Fade in to a room. Although most of the wall is covered by a NEO-Pro banner a hint of the room's true appearance of green and purple swirls is visible. On top of that a large fan can be heard in the background. But, in the middle of it all is a man with a purple mask on his face and standing next to a chimp. It's NEO-Pro cruiser, Psicopa, with his manager, monkey pal, Thaddeus Southerby Jr.] P: After all this time and two huge matches, I still don't really understand Derek Irvin. T: Oooooh-ahhhhh! Caption: Me neither, that guy's a whacko. P: You said it pal. [...] P: He's a dedicated worker, a talented wrestler. He's like a frigging pitbull in the ring and it hurts like hell to go up against him. Probably one of the most talented guys I've fought. And a guy who never backs down from anything, but he's complaining about how he doesn't want to find out who's the best between us. T: Aaaaaaah-ooooooooh! Caption: That's just silly! P: It is. It really, really is. T: Ooooook-oooooooh! Caption: I know, that's what I'm saying. P: Acting like this whole series is an annoyance to you isn't fooling anyone, Irvin. I don't know about you but I for one have never had a match of the year and then a match of the mid-year. I know you of all people would love that. You LOVE it! Mr. Match of the Year, Derek Irvin... that you owe to me as much as I owe it to you, so don't act as though it's not worth your time. We're very different you and I, Irvin. After this you want nothing to do with me and I don't really care... [Psi stops as Thad starts juggling.] P: What are you doing? T: Aaaaah-aaaaah! Caption: Juggling, dumbass! P: ... [...] P: So, uh... oh yeah, so leave all your ego and resentment of me backstage for our match and just give me as good a match as I KNOW you can and I'll respond in kind. T: Aaaaaah-aaaaaah! Caption: Well said! P: Thank you. You know, just between you and me, it's not like DDI to complain about having to wrestle, you know, being a wrestler and all. T: Oooooooh-aaaaaaaaah! Caption: Maybe it's all just a cover up and he's actually really nervous about the match. P: Maybe it's a sub-conscious thing that he doesn't want the rivalry to end because he'll miss me. [But probably not... end. We fade back to ringside where the J*STAR announcers are seated.] JS: Psicopa will be looking to put on another Match of the Year candidate later tonight... but before that can happen, we've got a dream match to do! TM: And you heard Psicopa refer to Derek Irvin as Mr. Match of the Year right there. JS: Hehehe. TM: And you _know_ Devon Case heard it too. JS: Should we expect a perfomance of Golden God levels? TM: There's a good damn chance, Steggs. JS: It's the ultimate battle of egos. And there's nothing that can be said about it that hasn't already. So, let's go up to Ken for our first dream match of the night! [We cut to the ring where Ken Graham is ready to go.] KG: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is the first of our three J*STAR Festival dream matches! [Huge pop!] KG: Introducing first... ["Would?" by Alice In Chains starts up to a massive pop from the Los Angeles (and mostly EMWC fans) crowd.] KG: He hails from Las Vegas, Nevada... standing an even six feet tall and weighing in at 230 pounds... he is a former EMWC World Heavyweight Champion... he is Mister Match of the Year and a Golden God... DEVVVVVVONNNNNNNNNNN CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE!!! [The lights dim in the Staples Center as the fast, strumming baseline opener of the Alice In Chains' song hits over the massive PA system. A massive roar comes up from the Los Angeles crowd even as no one has entered the building yet... not even as the crowd catches the opening lyrics.] #Know me broken by my master# #Teach thee on child of love hereafter# [And as the song takes a volatile turn.. BLUE FLAMES ERUPT FROM THE ENTRANCEWAY!.. Soon to follow in the trail of bluish-grey smoke is Devon Case! HUGE POP!! The usually very cut and dry Las Vegas native is sporting something new.. something special for the event. A long, black robe with dark, dark blue trim! The robe is opened in the front showing off his well-defined abs and wrestling pants of black and dark blue. And there he stands.. eyeing the crowd with a sense of true purpose and understanding as they cheer him on.] #Into the flood again# #Same old trip it was back then# #So I made a big mistake# #Try to see it once my way# [With the crowd piping hot.. Case smiles briefly as he begins the slow walk towards the ring of which has made him a legend in these parts. Fans try to get him to clap their hands but Case is so focused dead ahead.. towards that ring.. that he doesn't even notice them.. or seems not to.] #Drifting body it's sole desertion# #Flying not yet quite the notion# [Case gets to the ring.. pausing at the apron as he checks the bottom rope for nothing in particular before leaping high.. up and over the ropes and rolling through! POP! To his feet he goes with the momentum as he runs towards a corner!] #Into the flood again# #Same old trip it was back then# #So I made a big mistake# #Try to see it once my way# [The crowd erupts as Case hops onto the turnbuckle and throws a fist into the air! The camera catches the back of the long black robe.. where it is seen etched in blue embroidery "EMWC Born.. EMWC Bred.. EMWC Dead"] #Into the flood again# #Same old trip it was back then# #So I made a big mistake# #Try to see it once my way# [Case hops off the turnbuckle and begins stretching out those arms as the music dies down.] JS: Quite an entrance by the man we once confidently called a Golden God inside that squared circle, Todd. TM: He's had a rough time in the game since the E closed its' doors but there's not a soul in this industry that can doubt his talent inside the ring, Steggs. Devon Case _is_ a Golden God. JS: Indeed. [Case removes his robe, folding it up to hand to a ringside attendant as Ken Graham retakes center ring.] KG: And his opponent... [The lights drop and a voice is heard over the PA system... the very familiar voice of Nicholas Cage in Face/Off.] "If I were to _let_ you suck on my tongue... would you be grateful?" [Arena shaking, wake your neighbors.. "The kind of pops Quinn Brown and Dan Kauffman think they get" kind of eruption at the familiar quote.] Woman's Voice: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, Oooooooohhhh... OoOOoOOooOOOoOoh! OH EDDIE! [SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH~!] EVG: WHO'S YOUR DADDY????!?!?!?!? [Graham continues.] KG: Hailing from Prince George, British Columbia, Canada... standing 6'4 and weighing in at 250 pounds 3 ounces... he is a former two-time EMWC World Heavyweight Champion and a member of the Hall of Fame... he is Mister Maple Leap and the Idol 'O Millions... EDDIEEEEEEEEEEEE VAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBSONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!! [As the strobe light kicks up and "Space Lord" by Monster Magnet starts, the curtains part and with a smirking look the cameras reveal none other than Eddie Van Gibson standing at the top of the ramp. Dressed in a pair of loose fitting white leather pants and a pair of black boots with red tassels, Eddie raises both arms into the air and GRIN~!s with a chuckle in his voice. Falling down around his body is a sleeveless black and red robe.] JS: I'd have to see this crowd is pretty evenly split, Todd. TM: Two of the most popular... and actually, hated... superstars in wrestling history going toe to toe in the center of the ring? Yeah, I'd say a split reaction sounds about right. JS: Case is glaring down the ramp... staring at the man who he idolized upon getting into this business. TM: But the Golden God is not opposed to crippling his heroes. Ask Tiger Claw. JS: We miss ya, Claw! Wish you were here. TM: Amen. [Eddie reaches the ring to the cheers of the crowd and steps into the battlefield, cracking a GRIN~! in Case's direction as the younger man bounces up and down in place, trying to stay loose. Still holding the smirk, EVG drops to his knees in one fluid motion, throwing his hands in the air as fireworks shoot up from behind him, the crowd roaring with excitement.] JS: And Eddie may have just one-upped Devon Case in the entrance department. TM: I have a feeling a lot of this match will be oneupsmanship. These two have heard one anothers names for years. EVG was the trailblazer... leading the way for men like Case and Kinsey. Devon Case couldn't go anywhere, couldn't read one press clipping without being compared to EVG. And likewise, EVG couldn't truly enjoy retirement with the question constantly being asked... "Who would win a match between EVG and Case?" JS: Tonight, we will answer that question. TM: We sure will... and hopefully for both these men, they'll be able to put this issue to rest and move on with their lives. JS: EVG standing in the corner, getting checked by referee Dick Longfellow. He hasn't taken his eyes off Case and hasn't removed that grin from his face. TM: It's an early attempt to get in Case's head... and I don't know that'll work with him. Devon Case has played this game before... he knows how it works. It'll be interesting to see if one of these men can get the other one off their game with some mindgames. JS: Case's eyes are locked on Eddie Van Gibson as well... but there's no smile on his face as the official pats him down. He's very, very serious going into this. He wants to end the talk... you recall he was reluctant to even speak to our interviewers heading into this event. He wanted to do all his talking in the ring. TM: Which was odd for someone with his reputation. But now indeed, the time for talk is over. It's time for one of the biggest dream matches our sport has ever known. JS: Dick's concluded his search. [And stepping back to the middle of the ring, Longfellow signals for the bell which brings a huge ovation from the sold-out Staples Center crowd.] JS: Here we go! It's time for this dream to become reality! [The two men immediately walk to the center of the ring, glaring into each others' eyes as they make the journey. They stop in the middle, eyes locked on one another.] JS: We've got ourselves a staredown... what a moment this is. [And with the roaring crowd going absolutely nuts... a chant starts to develop.] "GOLD-EN GOD!" "GOLD-EN GOD!" "GOLD-EN GOD!" [A grin crosses Case's face as he nods his head defiantly at his opponent, raising his arms to embrace the cheers of the capacity crowd... ...but as he does, a second chant begins... growing louder and louder until it overwhelms the first.] "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" [This time, it's Van Gibson who cracks a shit-eating grin, pointing to the fans that now cheer his name. Case's smiles fades... then changes to an expression of wonder as the chant picks back up.] JS: My god, Todd... listen to this place! [The dueling chants are deafening, filling the entire arena with an electric atmosphere.] JS: They're split right down the middle! No one's the favorite tonight! TM: They hate and love these two evenly! [The chant continue... and soon it's not the crowd that are the only ones talking.] JS: Uh oh. Looks like we've got some trash talking going on. [Zooming in, the camera catches the animated faces of both men, spewing venomous words towards each other but out of earshot... damn.] TM: I'd love to be able to read lips right now, Steggs. JS: Me too. [The time to hesitate is through.] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The crowd explodes in a mixed pop as Case reaches out and violently slaps Eddie Van Gibson across the face, leaving a red welt behind.] JS: Slap! Case slapped the veteran! TM: A blatant show of disrespect by Case! He wants EVG to know right off the bat that he's not his hero anymore... he wants EVG to know that he'll break his damn neck if that's what it takes to walk out of Los Angeles as the winner of this dream match! [Van Gibson stands still, face partially turned away from the arrogant youngster... ...and then spins quickly, blasting the Golden God with a right hand! Huge pop!] JS: Right hand by Eddie! He's not going to take- another right hand! Right to the mush of the Golden God! [The crowd roars as the Idol O' Millions unleashes a series of hard right hands that knocks Case a few steps back... before Van Gibson takes him down to the mat with a hiptoss.] JS: Eddie takes Case down to the mat... but the kid is right back to his feet. [Case springs up, charging in again... ...right into another haymaker to the jaw!] JS: Oh! Another shot to the side of the face! Eddie goes downstairs with a boot to the gut... DOUBLE UNDERHOOK! TM: ASSHOLE DRIV- [But the roaring crowd falls to a hush as Case wriggles free from the double underhook, hurling himself through the ropes and out to the floor. He lands on his feet, shaking his head at EVG.] JS: Eddie almost had him, Todd. He almost had that double underhook... he almost had the Asshole Driver. TM: And I guarantee you that if he hits that split-legged facedriver in this match, we're going to have a winner. Devon Case will not kick out of the Asshole Driver. [Case walks around the ringside area, shouting into the ring where Gibson is standing.] "You lost to a woman, bitch! You're gonna beat me?!" [The crowd "oooooooohs" at that one, knowing full well what Case is referring to.] JS: Eeeps. Things getting a little bit personal out there. [Van Gibson moves near the ropes, leaning over.] "At least it wasn't Courtade!" [Say it with me. "Oooooooooooh!"] JS: Hehehe. TM: Oh, that made us some fans. JS: Eddie's inviting Case back into the ring, sitting on the second rope and telling Case to climb back in. TM: But Devon's still pacing around out there. He's getting fired up and- [The crowd pops again, this time as Van Gibson hocks one up and spits it square on the face of the Golden God.] JS: He spit on him! TM: I think the lack of respect may be mutual. [Case's eyes go wide with rage, diving under the bottom rope and popping to his feet where he bumps chests with Van Gibson.] JS: Case is screaming at him... he's all over Eddie and- [A big shove sends the Hall of Famer sailing across the ring.] JS: Case shoves him back... oh! Eddie returns the favor! They're pushing each other around the ring and- [The Golden God rears back and uncorks a right hand of his own... ...but has it blocked by Eddie Van Gibson who cocks his right hand back.] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [Huge pop!] JS: Eddie returns the favor! TM: Slap me and I'll slap you back! JS: "Digital Underground" Todd Michaelson in the hizzy. TM: Steggs, don't ever say "hizzy" again. [An irate Case lunges forward, unleashing a series of right hands to the face of Eddie Van Gibson, knocking him backwards across the ring to the far ropes.] JS: Eddie's on the ropes... whip! [And as Van Gibson rebounds off the far ropes, Devon Case sprints towards him...] JS: YAAAAAAAAAKUUUUUUUUZ- TM: Ducked by Eddie! [But before the veteran can recover, Case leaves his feet and drives them both into the kneecap of Van Gibson, knocking him down to a knee on the canvas... ...which brings the fans to their feet!] JS: Eddie to a knee! You know what that means! TM: Here comes Case! JS: SHINING WIZAAAAAAARRRR- [However, Case never gets the chance to score with his springing knee strike as Eddie Van Gibson sees it coming, diving through the ropes to the floor. Huge mixed pop!] TM: Case avoided the Asshole Driver... EVG avoided the Shining Wizard. And as much as Eddie Van Gibson wanted people to believe he didn't know who Case was, we obviously see now that he has him _very_ well scouted. JS: Indeed. And I'd expect nothing less than that. Eddie Van Gibson didn't become a two time EMWC World Champion by mistake, Todd. TM: No, he didn't. We all remember the Upset Heard 'Round the World when he knocked off the legendary "Crimson" Joe Reed to win that title for the first time before chasing Reed out of the EMWC... and then beat even bigger odds when he outlasted Kevin Slater, Mark Langseth, and the ever-dangerous Tiger Claw to win the title the second time around. JS: Eddie Van Gibson is no stranger to big matches... and this is one of the biggest he's ever had. Many would look at this as an easy night for EVG since he's retired now... but I can tell you this match may mean more to EVG than any he's had in his career. [Van Gibson walks around the ring, glaring at the grinning Case... and then returning the trash talking favor.] "So, how was it carrying Blue's bags around?" ["OHHHH SNAP!" Case glares at EVG before replying.] "Probably about the same as having Claw snatch your smile." [Heheh. Gotta love it.] JS: Some good stuff going on out there. TM: Get my video camera. It's a shoot interview! [But Van Gibson doesn't respond as violently as Case, simply stepping up to the apron and through the ropes... ...where Case promptly kicks the middle rope up into his groin! Big heel pop!] JS: Cheap shot! Case with the low blow! TM: Dick Longfellow is reprimanding him but from what I understand, this match is being held under classic EMWC rules. JS: You mean-? TM: Yep. Pretty much anything can happen in this one. JS: Oh brother. [Van Gibson slumps down to the canvas, clutching his nether regions as Case shoves Longfellow aside.] JS: Oh! Hard stomp to the ribs by Case! [The Golden God takes advantage of his prone opponent, driving boot after boot into his chest and ribs... then moving up to stomp his head relentlessly.] JS: Oh come on, Dick! Get in there! [Longfellow protests Case's assault of Van Gibson to which Case replies by kneeling down so that his shin is pressed firmly against the windpipe of his opponent.] JS: That's a choke! A blatant choke! TM: But he's screening Dick away from it. He may not even be able to tell it's a choke, Steggs. JS: The whole damn building can tell it's a choke! Come on, referee! [The official finally realizes what's happening, forcing Case to his feet to break the illegal choke.] JS: Finally! TM: Were you always this anal? JS: Well, just that one time at JW's ranch when my wife dragged me into the barn... I didn't know she bought one of those. TM: ... JS: Do we have a seven second delay? TM: No. JS: Shit. [Reaching down, Case pulls his idol up by the hair, shoving him back into the turnbuckles.] JS: Van Gibson in the corner... "WHAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Ooof! Kick to the ribs by Case! [The Golden God uncorks a few more stiff kicks to the ribs, causing Van Gibson to lean over, clutching his midsection... ...but getting straightened back up when Case leaps into the air, snapping off a spinning back kick to the chest of his opponent.] JS: Those deadly kicks of Devon Case... a skill he never really utilized until his epic match with Tiger Claw. TM: Case has a lot of different facets to him as a wrestler, Steggs. We saw him trade holds with Jake Shaw... we've seen him go to the air in breathtaking fashion... we've seen him in bloody brawls... and yes, we even saw him attempt to trade kicks with Tiger Claw. JS: Those kicks are being put to good use right now. Eddie's got his arms draped over the top rope, trying to stay on his feet. Case is- oh! Another leaping back kick right to the jaw! TM: And that one knocks EVG down to the mat, sitting down in the corner. [With his opponent down, Case firmly plants his boot in Van Gibson's throat pushing down on the windpipe again.] JS: Another blatant choke! TM: Towards the end of the EMWC, we had seen Case move away from this style of fighting to more of a fan-friendly style. But in a match like this... with this much spotlight on it... I guess you go with what brought you to the dance. JS: I'd say we'll see these guys do _anything_ if it means winning this match, Todd. TM: I think you're right. JS: Referee Dick Longfellow is right there again... [The crowd cheers for the official as he physically pushes Case out of the corner, breaking the choke.] JS: Whoa! TM: Dick's got balls! JS: Tell me you didn't just say that. TM: What? [Stegglet sighs as Case angrily shouts at Longfellow to "keep his fucking hands off him".] JS: Eddie manages to pull himself back to his feet... Case moving back in on him and- "WHAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Big chop finds a home across the chest of the Golden God! [Case stumbles backwards from the impact of the blow, allowing Van Gibson to escape from the corner.] JS: Eddie moving in! "WHAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOO!" TM: Another hard chop on target. Eddie's trying to chop the fire out of Devon Case... trying to take the wind right out of the kid's sails. JS: That won't be easy to do. We've seen that man go sixty minutes... ninety minutes even... in a match before. TM: He definitely can go as long as he needs to to get the job done... but Eddie's no slouch in that department either. JS: But he hasn't wrestled in a long, long time. His stamina may be limited by that. TM: Good point. Wow, Stegglet... you really _did_ learn from me over all those years. [A pair of knife-edge chops puts Case back into the opposite turnbuckles, Van Gibson still on the attack.] JS: EVG's got him cornered! [A big kick to the gut connects... and another... and another... and soon, Van Gibson is kicking in rapid fire motion, taking Case down to the mat in a seated position... ...but Eddie continues to stomp away!] JS: Eddie's trying to put him _through_ the mat! [And once Case is down on the mat like he was, Van Gibson presses his boot to the younger man's throat.] JS: Mister Maple Leaf returning the favor! He's choking Case with that boot! TM: In a lot of ways, these two are mirror images of one another, Steggs. JS: You've got that right. [Once again, Dick Longfellow wedges himself between Van Gibson and his downed opponent, shoving EVG backwards to break the choke. GRIN~!ing, EVG simply pats Dick on the head and moves back in, leaning down to pull Case up off the mat.] JS: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK! [But instead of driving Case facefirst into the canvas, Van Gibson snaps him over to the mat with a butterfly suplex... and hangs onto the underhook, rolling through it to apply a butterfly lock.] JS: Oh! TM: Nicely done by the man once known as the EMWC's "Franchise". He's using that butterfly lock to stretch out the neck and arms of Case. I don't think I've ever seen EVG use this before... so that just shows how hard he's been at work preparing for this match. JS: It's always good to be able to pull a few new moves out of the closet in a big match atmosphere. The opponent usually has you so well-scouted, hitting something new can sometimes be all the difference. [Van Gibson cinches the hold in tighter, telling Longfellow to ask Case if he wants to quit... but of course he doesn't. And soon, the Las Vegas native is able to get his feet under him, pushing both men back to a vertical base.] JS: Back up to their feet... oh! Eddie drives a knee up into the chest of Case! TM: Eddie continues to take advantage of Case's arms being tied up. A few hard knees to the upper body while still tweaking the arms and neck with that butterfly hold. [Van Gibson breaks the hold and delivers a hard chop that knocks Case back into the ropes again.] JS: Eddie with a whip... Case off the far side... [The Idol O' Millions drives a boot into the midsection of his opponent before sprinting to the adjacent ropes, rebounding back to hook Case before driving him down to the canvas!] JS: Oh! Big swinging neckbreaker by Eddie Van Gibson! And we've got our first cover of the match! [A two count gets the crowd going but Case easily kicks out.] JS: Not a chance. It's way too early for that. TM: You know when a basketball player that's on fire throws up a bad shot as a heat check? Just to see if he might make it? JS: Yeah. TM: That's what that was. Eddie was feeling the moment and wanted to see if he could score the quick pin. You said it yourself... it's been a long time since he's been in that ring. He probably would like to end it quickly before his stamina gets tested. [Van Gibson quickly rolls Case onto his stomach and drives a few punches into the back of the neck.] JS: EVG targetting the neck... maybe softening him up for the Asshole Driver. TM: It's a sound strategy. We'll have to see if he can execute it or if Case will be able to disrupt it with some strategy of his own. [Dragging Case back to his feet, Van Gibson backs to the corner where he climbs up to sit on the top rope, pulling the Golden God into a front facelock.] JS: He's going for a tornado DDT! He's going right for the neck of- he leaps! [And twists through the air, ready to spike his opponent's skull into the canvas... ...but Devon Case is having none of it.] JS: Blocked! Case blocked the tornado DDT and- TM: NORTHERN LIGHTS! [But Case's lift for the suplex is aborted by a hard knee to the face by Van Gibson, forcing him to set the Canadian back down on the mat. The two men become untangled from one another. "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [DEAFENING POP!] JS: My god! They slapped each other! They slapped the taste out of each other's mouth at the same damn time, Todd Michaelson! TM: Great minds think alike I suppose. JS: Look at their eyes! The fire in their- [A massive pop erupts as the two men charge towards each other, tumbling down to the mat where Van Gibson gets the edge, firing right hands wildly at his opponent... ...who quickly rolls it over!] JS: Now Case is on top! TM: I haven't seen anyone change positions that quickly since my honeymoon! [But Van Gibson quickly regains the edge... then Case... then EVG... and then both men roll under the bottom rope, dropping down to the floor where they continue to pummel one another.] JS: I'd say the feeling out process is over. TM: Indeed. JS: Don't steal my gimmick. [Van Gibson took the brunt of the fall to the concrete, allowing Case to easily slide back into the mount, driving right hands into the face of his former hero.] JS: Case is pounding him into the floor! Pounding him on this unforgiving concrete floor! [A few more punches land undeflected before Case climbs to his feet, pulling Van Gibson up by the hand... ...and _firing_ him into the wooden rampway!] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: SPINEFIRST TO THE RAMP! Eddie slammed into that wooden ramp and he's going to be feeling that one for a while! [Staggering away from the elevated entryway, Van Gibson catches a boot to the gut before snap suplexed on the floor!] JS: Oh my! TM: A brutal snap suplex on the floor... on the concrete floor. Eddie Van Gibson has just taken two very hard shots to his back on this concrete floor and that can't be good news for the fans of the former Franchise. JS: What the hell is Case doing now? TM: It looks like a Boston Crab. But why would he go for a submission outside the ring? [Holding the legs, Case drops back, catapulting Van Gibson chest and facefirst into the wooden ramp! Big mixed pop!] JS: Ohhh! Eddie ate wood right there! TM: I'm gonna tell him you said that. JS: Dammit, Todd. Be serious. [The Golden God pulls Van Gibson off the floor, rolling him back into the ring before hopping up to the ring apron and... waiting.] JS: Case is up on the apron... why isn't he getting in the ring? TM: He's waiting for Eddie to get to his feet. I think the Golden God is about to fly! JS: Van Gibson trying to get off the mat, thinking he'll be better off on his feet but I don't- CASE LEAPS! [Showing the ability that made him famous, Case deadleaps into the air, springing off the top rope, spinning through the air... ...and nearly _decapitating_ Eddie Van Gibson with a spinning leg lariat to the back of the head! Huge mixed pop!] JS: OHHHH MY! TM: What a kick! Right on the back of the neck! Devon Case doesn't seem to be targetting any one body part on Van Gibson... but he's done a little bit of damage to a lot of places. JS: He doesn't have to work on a body part if he's going for a killshot like that. A move like that could knock Eddie out cold and end this match in a hurry. [Case flips Van Gibson onto his back, diving across with a lateral press... but only scoring a two count before Eddie manages to slip out the backdoor.] JS: Not enough. I thought he stood a chance there. It was definitely designed to be a knockout blow. Case might be flashing back to his war with Claw... he went for a lot of knockouts in that one as well. TM: And Eddie Van Gibson actually has been knocked out in a match before. He lost a match to Casey James once by getting knocked out. So, it's not totally unheard of. [The Las Vegas native pops back to his feet, pulling Van Gibson up... and dropping him back down across his knee with a backbreaker before heading towards the corner.] JS: Devon Case is heading for the ropes. He's going to show off more of that high flying ability. TM: One of the best high flyers we ever had the honor of watching in the ring, Steggs. JS: He certainly is. [Reaching the turnbuckles, Case leaps to the middle rope... then up to the top in one motion before flipping backwards...] JS: MOONSAULT!!! [...and crashing right down across the chest of a stunned Van Gibson!] JS: ONE!!!! TWO!!!! [Big pop!] JS: Eddie gets the shoulder up. He's a fighter, Todd. TM: He certainly is. He's battled some of the toughest men in our business without blinking an eye. He may have acted the role of a coward at times but there's nothing about Eddie Van Gibson that would make you believe it. JS: Devon staying right on him though, pulling him off the mat. [As he gets EVG to his feet, Case shoves him backwards into the ropes.] JS: Eddie staggers off.... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: ROUNDHOUSE! ROUNDHOUSE KICK TO THE HEAD!!! [Van Gibson collapses to the canvas like he's been shot, allowing Case to dive atop him for another cover.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! [But Van Gibson lifts his shoulder up off the mat again, drawing a cheer from his many supporters jammed into the Staples Center.] JS: Eddie gets the shoulder up! And we talked about Eddie Van Gibson wanting to end this match quickly... but right now it looks like Devon Case may be looking to do the same. TM: He's been wrestling on and off, Steggs... he may not feel too comfortable in that ring either. He may want to win this thing and go home to Vegas. [Case backs away, waving for Van Gibson to get back to his feet. He shouts something loud enough to cause a buzz from those who heard it.] JS: Did he just say...? TM: He sure did! [And as the Idol O' Millions staggers up to his feet, Devon Case lunges forward, slapping on a very familiar judo choke that sends the crowd into a frenzy!] JS: KATA HA JIME! CASE SLAPS ON THE KATA HA JIME!! TM: And Eddie Van Gibson's in trouble! If you don't get out of this hold fast, you're in- [Knowing full well that Todd's right, Van Gibson plants his feet and _drives_ Case backwards so that his back slams into the turnbuckles... but Case manages to hang on.] JS: Eddie tried to counted but Devon won't let go! Devon Case is trying to choke out Eddie Van Gibson in the middle of Staples Center! He's trying to- [The crowd roars again as Van Gibson drives back to the buckles again... this time with enough force to break the hold.] JS: He got out of it... Eddie Van Gibson broke the Kata Ha Jime! TM: Lucky for him because he was about to get his lights turned out. JS: He staggers away... trying to regroup... [And as Case staggers out as well, suddenly it becomes Eddie's turn. Pop!] JS: CROSSFACE CHICKENWING!!! TM: No, no, no! He used to call this the Bawk Bawk Gatame! JS: Oh dear god. [The crowd roars as Case struggles against the crossfaced chickenwing, desperately looking for a way out before Van Gibson manages to separate his shoulder.] JS: Devon Case is trying to get out of this, trying to- [Case desperately lunges for the ropes, dragging Eddie Van Gibson with him... and together the two men tumble through the ropes and back out to the concrete floor to a huge gasp from the capacity crowd!] JS: OHHH! Out to the floor they go! TM: I don't think that's what Devon had in mind... but he definitely managed to break the hold. Eddie Van Gibson's grip was broken and we've got both men out on the concrete floor again. JS: Van Gibson's the first to his feet... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Another big chop! And that one knocks Case back into the railing! [The Golden God leans agains the barricade, arms slung over it to stay on his feet.] JS: With Case in that position, it leaves his chest fully exposed. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: OH! Another one! Those big chops are leaving welts on the chest of the Las Vegas native... and the former member of Redemption is in some trouble now. The Idol O' Millions has his back against a wall and- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Good lord! [Pulling Case off the railing, Van Gibson lifts him for an atomic drop... ...and drops him crotchfirst on the steel barricade!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: Eeeps. TM: That'll spoil any victory celebrations Case had planned. JS: It certainly will. [With Case grimacing on the railing, Van Gibson reaches under the ring.] TM: CHAIR! [Big pop!] JS: Dick Longfellow slides to the floor! He's trying to stop EVG from using that steel chair! TM: I don't know if that chair is legal in this... under classic EMWC rules, it sure would be. JS: But the referee is trying to stop him... trying to prevent EVG from- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [HUGE POP!] JS: OH MY GOD!! A big chairshot to the arm and shoulder... and Devon Case just got knocked out into the crowd! He got knocked into the first row! [Referee Longfellow is all over Van Gibson's case for the chair usage... but EVG simply shoves him aside, opening up the chair and setting it on the floor.] JS: What's going on here? TM: Dick's getting tired of being shoved around for one thing. He's warning Van Gibson that if he does it again, he'll end the match. JS: Think he will? TM: Not if he wants to prevent a riot in this building. [Van Gibson suddenly races towards the chair, springing off its' seat, sailing over the barricade... ...and snaring Case's head with his legs, snapping him down to the cold concrete below! Big pop!] JS: WHOA! TM: A rana off the chair to the floor! Out of nowhere! [The crowd decides to pay tribute for Mister Maple Leaf's efforts in true EMWC fashion.] "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" JS: These fans said it for all of us. [Van Gibson emerges from a pile of screaming fans, lifting an arm in triumph as he pulls Case off the concrete floor into a front facelock... ...and snaps him over to the ground with a suplex! Big pop!] JS: Good lord! We've got these two brawling in the crowd now. A big suplex on the floor just like Eddie took earlier in the match. TM: These fans are going nuts, Steggs. It's crowd interaction at its' finest! [And as the Franchise pulls himself off the concrete floor, he raises a hand... ...and the crowd goes nuts for the Corona bottle he clutches in it!] JS: Oh jeez. TM: The official sponsor of Corona is back, baby! And J*STAR would like to thank that fan for donating his beer to the Idol O' Millions. [Eddie tilts his head back, chugging the bulk of the beer. He grins as he swallows it down, still holding the bottle.] JS: Case is down... and Eddie Van Gibson is drinking?! TM: All work and no play makes Eddie a dull boy, Steggs. JS: I suppose. [A rabid fan slaps Eddie on the arm... and tilts his own head back. Van Gibson looks at him quizzically... and then realizes what the fan is hoping for.] JS: He wants Eddie to give him some of the beer? TM: An Eternally Extreme moment, I suppose. JS: AND EDDIE'S GONNA DO IT! [Van Gibson cracks a big GRIN~! as he lifts the bottle up, over the fan's open mouth... ...and then pours it down his own gullet instead, simply shrugging his shoulders at a teasing shower of boos from the fans.] JS: Ahhh... gotta love him. TM: Eddie Van Gibson is a true original, fans. There'll never be another quite like him. [And as Devon Case regains his feet.] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" [DEAFENING POP!] JS: HE BROKE THE BOTTLE OVER CASE'S HEAD!!! That empty Corona bottle just got shattered over the skull of the Golden God! TM: Case went down like a rock! Eddie might have knocked him out cold. That bottle just shattered on impact and- [Case stays on his knees for a moment as the camera zooms in.] TM: BLOOD! JS: Devon Case has been busted open by Van Gibson! EVG and that Corona bottle just split Case's head open like a ripe mel- TM: SAY IT! SAY IT! JS: Nooooooo. TM: Damn you, Jon Stegglet. Damn you. [Grabbing Case by the hair, Van Gibson pummels the cut with a clenched right hand, splitting the cut open even more.] JS: Eddie's trying to put a crimson mask on Case... dragging him off the floor right now. [Van Gibson hurls Case over the railing, slamming down to the concrete floor again.] JS: Eddie chucks him back to ringside... and he's climbing up on the barricade! TM: And he's soaking up the cheers of these fans. These fans are going crazy for Eddie Van Gibson and- [Still lying on the floor, Case lashes a foot out at the steel barricade.] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: CROTCHED! Eddie gets crotched on the steel railing! [Using the rail to pull himself to his feet, Case shoots a few unheard words to a suffering Eddie Van Gibson before leaping into the air... ...and snapping a boot into the side of Gibson's face!] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: OH MY! A kamengiri by Case! That leaping headkick was right on target and Van Gibson slumps down to the cold concrete like he'd been shot! [The crowd continues to buzz as Case uses the rail again to pull himself off the floor, looking down at the dazed Canadian.] JS: Eddie Van Gibson took a brutal kick to the skull right there... absolutely scintillating, Todd. TM: It was the kind of kick Case used in that match with Claw. You could get a knockout easily with something like that. JS: Van Gibson seems to be motionless right now... and Case pulls him off the floor by the hair, rolling him under the ropes. [Stepping up to the apron, Case scales the ropes to the top.] JS: Devon Case is up top! The Golden God is set to fly! [And suddenly, he _hurls_ his body from his perch, pumping his arms and legs... ...and _crashing_ down onto a prone Van Gibson! Huge pop!] JS: FROG SPLASH!! THE FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH!!! [Cradling his ribs, Case throws himself across Van Gibson.] JS: ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THR- [BIG POP!] JS: NO! NO! EDDIE KICKS OUT! [Case slaps the mat in frustration, glaring at Dick Longfellow who shows two fingers to Case... who shows one in retort.] TM: Dick's number one in Case's heart. JS: Apparently so. TM: Case loooooooves Dick. JS: Todd. TM: He LOOOOOOOOOOVES Dick. JS: Todd! TM: HE LOOOOOOOV- JS: TODD! [Dragging himself off the mat, Case hits the ropes, tumbling across the ring... ...and crashing down across Van Gibson's chest with a senton.] JS: Rolling Thunder! [And seemlessly rolling up to his feet, leaping to the middle rope... ...and slamming back down with a quebrada! Huge pop!] JS: Beautiful move! ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THR- [HUGE POP!] JS: So close! So very close! TM: But close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades! JS: Indeed. [An irate Case pulls Van Gibson off the mat again, spinning him so they're back to back.] JS: CASE CLOSED! HE'S GOING FOR CASE CLOS- [POP!] JS: BACKSLIDE! EDDIE WITH THE BACKSLIDE!! ONE!!! TWO!!!! THR- [Huge mixed pop!] JS: Shoulder up! Devon Case got the shoulder up! TM: A near fall there for Van Gibson but honestly... who ever gets a pin with a backslide? JS: Indeed. [Both men stagger to their feet at the same time after the near fall.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Oh my! Big chop by Case! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: And Eddie Van Gibson returns the favor! [The two men hold their ground and exchange chops.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: EEEEEGADS! What the hell is wrong with these two?! [After a bit, they separate, their chests bright red from the impact of the chops. And as Case leans in to deliver another one, Eddie Van Gibson slips a knee up into his gut.] JS: Eddie goes to the midsection... double leg trip! [And the crowd roars as Eddie holds onto the legs, easily turning Case onto his stomach and into a Boston Crab.] JS: Boston Crab! He slaps on the Boston Crab! TM: No, no... it's the Cool Crab! This is one of the finishers of Johnny "Cool" Coles that he taught to Van Gibson! Eddie knows this hold very well and Devon Case may be in for a tough time to break this thing. [Case screams out in pain as Van Gibson leans back a bit, torquing the lower back of his opponent.] JS: Referee Dick Longfellow is right there... right there to check on Case to see if he submits. The kid is fighting it though... he's reaching for the ropes. TM: But he's nowhere near the ropes yet. Eddie slapped on that hold pretty close to the center of the ring. JS: Case is scratching and clawing... trying to drag himself and Van Gibson across the ring. [The crowd roars, chanting in unison, trying to inspire Case to get to the ropes to break the submission hold.] "DE-VON!" clapclapclap "DE-VON!" clapclapclap "DE-VON!" clapclapclap "DE-VON!" clapclapclap "DE-VON!" clapclapclap [Case continues to inch closer and closer, pulling his way towards the ropes.] JS: He's getting closer, Todd! TM: These fans are deafening, Stegglet! I can't even hear myself think in here! JS: So close... so close... [The camera cuts to a shot even with Case, showing him reaching towards the ropes... just inches away from freedom. Van Gibson leans back even further, trying to turn up the pressure.] JS: Listen to Case scream! Devon Case is screaming in agony! He's so close! TM: Devon Case is just inches away... he needs to fight this. He needs to suck down that pain and- [HUGE POP!] JS: HE MADE IT! CASE GOT TO THE ROPES!!! [And referee Longfellow immediately forces Van Gibson to break the hold, pushing him away as Case rolls to the ropes, clutching them and hoping for safety.] JS: Van Gibson's raising his hands... he thinks he won! TM: No he doesn't. He's just taunting the ref. Trying to get in the ref's head now. Both of these guys are so good in that ring... such fantastic ring generals. They know exactly what they're doing at all times. JS: Eddie's leaning against the ropes... waving for Case to get up... TM: Devon's using the ropes, trying to pull himself off the mat... his back has to be ravaged with pain right now. He's reaching back to- JS: EDDIE! [Van Gibson sprints across the ring, connecting with a huge clothesline that sends both men toppling over the ropes and crashing down onto the wooden rampway! Huge pop!] JS: TO THE RAMP! Both men over the ropes and down onto the ramp! TM: Luckily for both men, that wasn't a very far fall. The ramp is even with the ring apron so it was just a very short fall on that wooden ramp... won't do much more damage to either man. JS: The referee is telling them to get back into the ring... but you can be sure he won't count them out. Not at this show. TM: The former High Society leader pulls himself off the wooden ramp first. He seems a bit more fresh at this point of the match. They've been fighting incredibly hard so far. [Reaching down, EVG pulls Case up by the hair, scooping him up... ...and slamming him down on the ramp! Big pop!] JS: Body slam on the ramp! Right down on the middle of the ramp. TM: And more importantly, right down on the back that Van Gibson just punished with that Boston Crab. Case cried out when he hit the mat so you know he's hurting for sure. JS: It looks like Eddie's going back to the rin- no. What's he doing? [Van Gibson checks Case's position and steps up to the middle rope. He pauses for a moment, then steps to the top, immediately hurling himself backwards... ...and down across the empty ramp as Case rolls out of the way! Big mixed pop!] JS: HE MISSED! HE MISSED THE MOONSAULT! TM: And that high risk move came up snake eyes for Eddie. His ribs slam down on the wooden ramp... and he's gotta be hurting bad now. [The Idol O' Millions rolls onto his back, arms cradling his now-hurting ribcage.] JS: Devon Case avoided the high-risk moonsault and now it's the Golden God's turn to try and figure out a way to put Eddie Van Gibson away. TM: He should probably do it in the ring too. It's too dangerous out there on the ramp or the floor for these guys. You could get hurt very, very badly out there. That ramp wasn't designed to be bodyslammed on. [Case drags himself to his feet using the ropes, reaching down to pull Van Gibson to his feet by the back of the tights.] JS: Devon pulls him- waistlock! [Van Gibson flails his arms, trying to free himself... ...but it's too late!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [Huge mixed pop!] JS: German suplex _on_ the ramp! He drove the back of Eddie's head and neck on the damn wooden ramp. TM: That can't be good news for EVG. He needs to get back into the ring to stand a chance in this one. His old battered body is taking more of a beating the longer he's outside the ring. JS: Case hangs on... rolling back up with him... [The former Redemption member quickly switches his grip, applying a double chickenwing.] JS: You've gotta be kidding me. HE LIFTS! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: TIGER SUPLEX ON THE RAMP!!! Again down to the back of the head and neck. TM: And that may be Devon Case softening up Eddie Van Gibson for either the Case Closed or Murder Is The Case. Either one of those would be a severe blow to the neck and would likely end the match if Case keeps up this assault on the neck. JS: Case is rolling up again! [The crowd buzzes as Devon Case keeps his double chickenwing grip, rolling back to his feet again.] TM: He's trying to win the match right here and now, Stegglet. JS: He may be on the verge of doing exactly that! But he can't win the match outside the ring... he can't- [A roar from the crowd goes up as Case switches his grip, applying a full nelson.[ JS: Oh god. TM: Case is going for the killshot! He wants Eddie Van Gibson to be absolutely unconscious when he goes for the cover! [But before he can take Van Gibson up and over with it, Van Gibson manages to snake a leg around Case's, blocking the lift.] JS: Yeah! Eddie blocked it! He blocked the suplex! [Case breaks his grip and tees off on the neck of Van Gibson.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The crowd groans with each and every blow rained down on the injured neck of the former Franchise.] JS: He's pounding the neck, trying to soften him up! [Case reaches with one arm around the waist of Van Gibson, turning their bodies... ...so that a suplex would dump Van Gibson on the concrete floor. The crowd begins buzzing even louder now.] JS: Oh my god! Tell me he's not going to do this, Todd! Tell me he's not- TM: He's going for a... yeah, a half and half suplex off the ramp to the floor! That'll snap Eddie like a damn tree branch, Steggs! His neck and spine would be splintered in a million pieces! [With one arm around EVG's waist and the other applying a half nelson, Case sets his feet.] JS: HE LIFT- no! Blocked! Eddie drops down to a knee to block it! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: He pounds the head and neck of Van Gibson again! And he yanks him right back up to his feet! Dammit, Devon... don't do this! Don't do- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: LOW BLOW! LOW BLOW!! TM: Eddie Van Gibson was desperate, Steggs! He knew he had to get out of that move... he knew it and he did whatever was necessary to get the job done. He drove his foot right back into the groin of the Golden God! [Case drops to a knee, grimacing from the back kick to the groin.] JS: Case is down... Eddie Van Gibson pushes himself back to his feet. [And pulls the Golden God into s standing headscissors.] JS: Oh my god! Is he setting for a powerbomb?! TM: If he is, he's gonna spike him to the floor, Steggs! JS: He can't do that! He'll cripple him! TM: Payback's a bitch! Case was going to do it to him... Eddie may be looking to do it first! [Van Gibson locks his arms around the midsection of Case, trying to hoist him up... ...but the wily youngster drops down to a knee to avoid it.] JS: Blocked! Case blocks the- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Egads! What a pummeling to the back of Case! TM: Eddie's gonna try it again! He's going for the powerbomb to the floor! He lift- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: LOW BLOW PART TWO!!! This time, it's Case who scores with the uppercut to the groin! He blocked the powerbomb! [Van Gibson staggers away from Case, allowing the Golden God to regain his feet, hooking an inverted facelock... ...and _driving_ the back of EVG's head into the wooden ramp! Huge pop!] JS: STRIP! Case scores with the Strip on the ramp! TM: Right on the back of the head... and that might knock someone out too, Steggs. That's Case's old finisher and he used it to great effectiveness for a long, long time. JS: Case rolls Eddie under the ropes... now rolls in behind him... cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [MASSIVE POP!] JS: EDDIE GOT THE SHOULDER UP! Case hit him with a ton of stuff out on the ramp but it was not enough. Eddie Van Gibson is showing off the fighting spirit that made him a Hall of Famer, Todd. TM: He's as tough as nails and if you want to beat him in a match this big, you may have to kill him to do it. JS: Devon Case is screaming at the referee... insisting it was a three count but Dick Longfellow says no. Dick says it was only a two. TM: Case needs to keep his focus on EVG and not let what he thinks was a slow count bother him. JS: Case pushes himself back to his feet... and he drags Eddie off the mat, shoving him back to the corner. Referee Dick Longfellow is right there to- [The crowd gasps as Case shoves Longfellow down to all fours, ordering him to stay there.] TM: Good lord. This reminds me of those stories about Scott Rogers in the showers in Portland. JS: Ewwwww. [With Longfellow kneeling near the corner, Case puts Van Gibson up top and walks to the opposite side of the ring.] JS: You know what's coming. TM: I think the entire building... hell, the entire wrestling world... knows what's coming. JS: He charges! [Case sprints across the ring, springing off the back of the kneeling referee.] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [BIG POP!] JS: SPRINGBOARD BITCHSLAAAAAP! [Van Gibson recoils from the impact of the slap, nearly falling from his perch but Case rights him as he starts to climb the buckles.] JS: Longfellow scampers away cause Case is going up top! [The Golden God steps up to the top rope and promptly gyrates his hips, thrusting his junk all up in Eddie's area... ...to which Eddie responds by shoving Case backwards, causing him to backflip down to his feet.] JS: Oh! Case lands on his feet! [And Van Gibson takes flight, leaping into the air, snaring a front facelock as he twists through the sky... ...and _spikes_ Case's skull into the canvas! Big pop!] JS: TORNADO DDT! TORNADO DDT! TM: One of Eddie's favorite moves! JS: He covers! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- [Huge mixed pop!] JS: Case slips the shoulder up! Devon Case is just as determined to win this match as Eddie Van Gibson is! It may not be about titles... it may not be about money... but you can bet it's about pride... about respect... about honor. [And this time, it's Van Gibson who is the first to his feet, tiredly pulling Case up by the arm... and then hoisting him up, dropping him down on the top rope.] JS: Deja vu? TM: One upsmanship at its' finest. [Van Gibson slowly scales the ropes, stepping to the top rope where he mimics Case's "junk gyration".] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [Then slaps the taste out of Case's mouth before leaping into the air, snaring Case's head with his legs, and snapping him down to the canvas!] JS: Top rope rana! Van Gibson scores with the rana... and he's crawling towards Case. Trying to make a cover... trying to- [Pop!] JS: ONE!!!! TWO!!! THR- [Big mixed pop!] JS: Case slips the shoulder up! TM: He took the brunt of that rana on his back rather than on his head and neck... which is good for him but it's bad for EVG if he thought he could get the pin with that. Eddie's going to have to dig deep to come up with something high impact to put this kid down for a three count. JS: We've seen Case survive hellacious wars with some of the toughest men in our business. He can take a tremendous amount of punishment. If EVG wants to win this match, he'll have to pull out all the stops to finish this fiesty young man off. [Van Gibson shakes his head in disbelief as he climbs to his feet, slowly walking to the corner where he starts to climb again.] JS: Eddie's going up top! TM: This isn't the usual place of Eddie Van Gibson. Occasionally, you'll see him bust out a moonsault or the like... but it's very unlike EVG to go to the high risk offense. And if he's doing it here, he's realizing what we're saying. He needs to go beyond what he usually would do if he wants to defeat Devon Case here tonight. JS: Van Gibson to the second rope... he's taking too long, Todd. TM: He looks a little shaky. All that high impact offense may be getting to him. JS: He steps to the top! He step- whoa! He almost fell! [The crowd buzzes as Van Gibson desperately tries to steady himself, shaking his head to try and clear the cobwebs.] JS: HE LEAPS!!! [Van Gibson backflips through the sky, rotating so that his feet will hit the canvas first.] JS: DOUBLE STOMP!!! [The crowd _erupts_ as Case rolls aside, causing Van Gibson to land feet first on the canvas... ...where he immediately drops to a knee, clutching his right leg.] JS: Oh! He missed the double stomp and I think he may have hurt his leg! He may have- [Case immediately surges forward, springing off the bent knee.] JS: SHINING WIZZZZZZZZAAAAAAARRRRRRRD!!! [An explosion of cheers goes up as Case's knee slams into the side of Van Gibson's face, toppling the Hall of Famer to the canvas.] JS: Eddie's down! The Shining Wizard was on target! TM: If Case can cover him, I think it's over, Steggs! JS: Devon Case is crawling towards him, trying to make a cover... [But before he can be covered, Van Gibson rolls away from Case, under the ropes where he falls hard to the concrete floor!] JS: Oh! Hard to the floor! TM: But a very smart move... a _very_ smart move. Eddie Van Gibson got hit with the Shining Wizard and he knew if he was covered there was a good chance this match would be over. So, instead he rolls out to the floor where Case can't pin him. Incredible show of ring intelligence and presence. JS: Case slaps the mat... he knows he had this match won if he could have made the cover. But instead, he rolls out to the floor with Van Gibson. TM: And this isn't good news for EVG. He's basically defenseless out there right now, Steggs. He can't fight back at all at the moment I think. Case may have almost knocked him out cold with the Shining Wizard. [An exhausted Case drags Van Gibson off the floor by the hair, cradling his foot.] JS: SHINBREAKER! TM: An interesting choice. Case must have noticed EVG hurting the leg on the attempted moonsault stomp. And if he did? EVG may be in more trouble than we thought. JS: Devon Case didn't hesitate for an instant when he had the chance to cripple Tiger Claw... his other idol... his other hero. And you can bet he won't think twice about snapping that leg if it means winning this match. [Still holding the leg as Van Gibson attempts to stay balanced on one foot, Case dragon screws him down to the floor sending a cry of pain into the electric atmosphere of the Staples Center.] JS: Dragon screw! TM: Case using one of Eddie's favorite moves against him... and that move could rip a knee out. I've known a lot of wrestlers who've suffered major injuries off that legwhip. [Case peels off of Van Gibson... and grabs the discarded chair that both men used earlier.] JS: He's got the chair! Devon's got- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: Chairshot to the knee! Right across the kneecap of Eddie Van Gibson! [Turning the chair in his hands, Case drives the edge of the seatback into the knee joint of his opponent, sending another scream of pain into the air.] JS: Devon Case has snapped, Todd! He's snapped! TM: He just wants to win this match so damn badly, Steggs. It would mean so much to him... so much to his career. We all know that Devon's been trying to retire for the past year. A win tonight? Might finally give him the peace of mind to do it. [A few more hard shots to the knee with the steel chair cause Van Gibson to curl up into a ball, trying to avoid further punishment to the leg.] JS: Case pulls him off the floor, shoving him back into the ring. And now Devon rolls in there with him. Looks like he's still going after the knee too. TM: He's calling for the figure four! This is one of Eddie's signature moves! JS: Spinning toehold and he reaches down for- [HUGE POP!] JS: INSIDE CRADLE!!! ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THRE- [MASSIVE MIXED POP!] JS: SHOULDER UP! Case just barely got the shoulder up! [And an irate Devon Case springs to his feet, stomping and kicking the injured limb before Van Gibson can regain his feet.] JS: Right back to work on the leg. Devon Case has set a mission in his mind. He wants to break the leg of his hero here tonight. He wants to end the legend of Eddie Van Gibson in the middle of this ring just like he did to Tiger Claw. TM: You know... some might say Devon Case is the _real_ Legend Killer, Steggs. JS: Some might indeed. [Rolling Van Gibson onto his stomach, Case quickly deathlocks the injured leg and reaches back.] JS: Sickle hold! TM: Oh man... this'll do a number on Eddie. JS: Stretching the neck... the back... and yes, the leg of the injured Canadian. I bet he wishes his High Society allies were in the house tonight. He could use some help, I think. TM: You don't think Eddie can win this match alone? JS: We shall see. [Van Gibson stretches out towards the ropes, trying to get his fingers wrapped around them to break the hold... but Case simply pulls up harder on the chinlock portion of the hold, pulling Van Gibson's eyes away from his goal.] JS: Eddie couldn't quite make it to the ropes! Case is trying to rip and tear that knee apart... trying to force a submission out of his longtime idol. [The Canadian slams his arms into the mat, trying to rally himself to get to the ropes.] JS: Eddie wants to get there! These fans are clapping, cheering, screaming for him to make it! [He stretches his arms out again as the fans begin to chant in unison.] "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" "ED-DIE!" [Van Gibson stretches his fingers closer and closer to the ropes... just inches away.] JS: He's almost there! ALMOOOOOOOOST- [But Case violently pulls up on his chin again, forcing his hands away from the ropes. A huge mixed pop erupts at the sight of Van Gibson trying to pry Case's fingers off his chin.] JS: He couldn't make it! Case prevented him from reaching the ropes again! TM: Eddie's in trouble. He needs to grab the ropes and get out of this. He's gotta forget about the pain... forget about the agony his knee is in. He needs to- [The crowd grows louder as Van Gibson reaches behind his head, grabbing Case under the chin with one arm... and sliding the other arm to the side to push at the mat.] TM: What's he doing? JS: I'm not sure. He's trying to put a chinlock of his own on Case, I think. I'm not sure how much that'll- [An explosion of cheers as Van Gibson pushes hard off the mat, rolling both men onto their sides!] JS: Eddie broke the hold... sorta. He's on his side and it looks like he's got a sickle hold on Case as well! They're doing damage to each other! [With the roaring crowd cheering both men on, Case breaks the hold, sliding away from his injured opponent.] JS: Van Gibson got free! TM: But he was trapped in that sickle hold for a long, long time, Stegglet. His knee has got to be killing him right... absolutely killing him. JS: Case pulls himself back to his feet. He's gotta be wondering what else he can do to punish Eddie Van Gibson. What else can he do to get a victory over EVG here tonight on the biggest stage in the business? [But as Case moves in on Van Gibson, Eddie shows he's still got a little gas left in the tank, hurling himself at Case's knee.] JS: Oh! He clipped the knee! TM: Eddie wasn't in as bad of shape as Case thought... and now it's Eddie Van Gibson who lays in a few hard shots to the knee. [Van Gibson kneels on the canvas, pummeling the injured knee of the Golden God with right hands.] TM: Not the most scientific way to wear down the knee but it's damn effective. [Pushing himself to his feet, Van Gibson staggers to the ropes, trying to balance himself on one leg.] JS: He's hurting, Todd. He's hurting bad. TM: It looks like he can barely put any weight on that knee at all. JS: Case pushes himself up... moving in again... [But as the Golden God gets close, Van Gibson lunges out of the ropes, grabbing Case's leg... ...and whipping him down to the mat! Big pop!] JS: Dragon screw! EVG with the dragon screw! Trying to rip and tear the tendons and ligaments in the knee of Devon Case! Trying to do a little bit of damage back just like Case did to him. TM: But Eddie's one of the best in the world at this move. I saw a tape of him using it off the top of a steel cage once. Incredible. JS: There's no steel cage here tonight, but he's hanging onto the leg... rolling back to his feet... [And lightning quick, he snaps him back down to the mat with another dragon screw legwhip!] JS: Ohhhh my! TM: Case let out a horrid scream there, Steggs. Eddie may have done some major damage with that one. Case is clutching the knee... but Eddie's pulling him off the mat again, still holding that leg. [Van Gibson gets to his feet, holding the injured limb of his opponent and simply shrugs his shoulders before taking him down to the mat one more time!] JS: Another one! Three dragon screw legwhips in a row! TM: Case's knee has got to feel like Jello right now, Steggs. I bet he can't even tell he _has_ a leg right now. The pain's gotta be shooting through his entire body... it's gotta be- [MASSIVE POP!] JS: EDDIE'S CALLING FOR THE FIGURE FOUR! HE'S CALLING FOR- [But as he turns in the spinning toehold, Case uses his good leg to push Van Gibson chestfirst into the corner... then uses his arms to push himself to his feet, hopping towards Van Gibson.] JS: Both men barely able to stand... barely able to move... oh! Right hand by Eddie! And Case returns the favor! TM: There's not much behind either of those punches, Steggs. JS: There's certainly not. They're trying to punch either out but are too weak to do it. Weak exchange of punches. [Reaching out, Van Gibson turns Case into the corner.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Oof! Big chop by EVG! TM: And just that one chop was enough to knock Case off his feet. He's down on his ass in the corner... choke! [The crowd roars with a mixed reaction as Van Gibson blatantly chokes Case with his boot.] JS: That's an obvious choke! The referee's right there to- Dick pushes him back, pushing him all the way back to the opposite corner. TM: Longfellow's being very physical tonight... wanting to try and keep law and order established. Van Gibson's trying not to put any weight on that leg though... trying not to stand on it. [But with Case downed, Van Gibson cracks a GRIN~!, knowing what he has to do.] JS: What the hell? TM: Van Gibson trying to run across the ring... but it's more like a hobble. It's more like he's limping across the ring and- [The crowd _erupts_ in a mixed pop as Van Gibson executes a Bronco Buster, repeatedly thrusting his crotch into a helpless Case's face.] JS: Hehe. Only Eddie Van Gibson would put himself through agonizing pain to an injured knee to embarass his opponent. TM: And that's exactly what he's doing, Steggs. This isn't an offensive move... this is something to humiliate Devon Case. [Van Gibson pulls away from the corner... and STRUTS!] JS: Hehehe. Gotta love him. TM: I don't think Devon Case does. [Enraged by Van Gibson's actions, Case pops up to his feet, willing the pain away in his leg as he races across the ring. Van Gibson slowly turns...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: YAAAAAAAAAKUUUUUUUUUZAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! [The brutal mafia kick to the jaw sends Van Gibson sailing back to the corner where he collapses in a heap on the canvas, the turnbuckles the only thing preventing him from falling flat on his back.] JS: Whoa! FIGHTING SPIRIT! [Case immediately drops to a leg, clutching his injured knee.] TM: It hurt him to do it... but his pride was insulted. He did what his heart told him to do... and now his body's telling him the consquences of doing it. [Clinching his teeth, Case forces himself back to a standing position and hobbles to the corner where a dazed Van Gibson is restling, sucking wind into his lungs.] JS: Eddie's down in the corner... and Case is moving in on him. [Reaching the buckles, Case firmly plants his boot against the face of Van Gibson and pushes down across it, raking his boot across Eddie's face!] JS: Oh my! Facewash by the Golden God! [The crowd groans in unison as Case rakes the boot across the face again... and again... and again...] JS: This is hard to watch, Todd. Eddie Van Gibson is barely moving and he's just being taken apart by Devon Case right now. TM: And the average man on the streets has _no_ idea how painful that is. What Devon Case is doing? It's one of the most painful things you can have done to you in a wrestling ring. Not to mention how embarassing it is. [After a couple more bootscrapes, Case drags Van Gibson off the mat.] JS: Case pulls him up... double underhook! [The crowd explodes as Case sets to attempt the Asshole Driver... ...but Eddie Van Gibson drops to a knee, refusing to be driven down to the mat by his own move.] JS: Van Gibson drops to a knee to block it. TM: Or maybe he collapsed out of exhaustion. JS: A definite possiblity. We've all got to remember he hasn't wrestled a match like this in... well, I'd have to say at least two years... maybe more. This has gotta be absolutely draining to him both physically and mentally. TM: Case hasn't wrestled very much as of late either... but at least he's active. Both of these men are running on fumes right now but the question is... who has more left? Who has more of a will to win? [With Van Gibson kneeling, a winded Case breaks his double underhook grip.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The crowd groans as Case repeatedly drives forearms into the back and neck of Van Gibson.] JS: Case is trying to soften him up... trying to weaken his resistance to the Asshole Driver. TM: And wouldn't it be the ultimate insult to lose to your own finishing move? JS: Some people get pretty upset about that, I've heard. [The Golden God reapplies the double underhook, trying to pull Van Gibson off the canvas.] JS: Trying to get him back up... trying to bring him to his feet. [But again, Van Gibson drops down to a knee... and this time, he scissors Case's legs, taking him down in a drop toehold... ...that slams Case chestfirst across the middle rope!] JS: Uh oh! TM: If the situation was revered, I know what we'd see... but- well, can he do it? JS: You know he wants to! [Van Gibson gets to his feet, looking around at the roaring crowd, egging him on.] JS: Here we go! [Much as Case did moments ago, Van Gibson bites back the pain, running across the ring. At the last moment, he leaps into the air, grabbing the top rope and swinging his legs back in the direction of Devon Case's face... ...but finds no one home as the Golden God throws himself backwards to avoid the Sayama Feint Kick he made famous! Massive mixed pop!] JS: He missed! Eddie missed the Sayam- [As he lands on his feet, Case wildly swings his leg to knock Eddie's legs out from under him.] JS: Legsweep! Case back to his feet and- [And somehow throws himself in the air, trying to execute the standing 450 splash he used so often... ...but is unable to get the height, his back crashing down across Eddie's chest instead.] JS: He couldn't get all the way around! The injured leg wouldn't let him get all the way around on the standing 450! TM: It was basically a somersault senton cause he couldn't get the height on the jump to rotate all the way around. [Reaching back with his arm, Case cradles a leg and yells for the referee to count.] JS: That's a cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: Shoulder up! Shoulder up! My god, he got a shoulder up! [Case sits up, slamming his fists into the canvas and screaming at Dick Longfellow.] JS: Case thinks it was a three count... but he's wrong, Todd. TM: But when you're fighting in a match like this, you have no idea if you're right or wrong, Steggs. Devon Case wants this match to be over... he wants to walk out the winner... he wants to end this dream match right here and now. JS: Case crawling towards the corner... still arguing with the referee. [The Golden God pulls himself to his feet using the ropes and then steps out to the apron.] JS: He's going up top?! TM: With an injured leg, this is a dangerous move, Steggs. JS: He can't even put pressure on that leg to climb. He's climbing the ropes with one leg and his arms... that's it. He can't even- oh! Look! He tried to use that other leg and nearly fell! [But with a motionless Van Gibson on the canvas, Devon Case seemingly has all the time in the world to step up to the top rope.] JS: On the second rope... he's sitting on the top, but that's not what he wants to do. He's trying to get those legs underneath him so he can stand up there. TM: He'd better be careful. If he tries to stand on that leg, he may take a header to the floor. JS: He's got one leg... yes! He's standing up top! [Perhaps the most awkward "poised" on the top rope moment you've ever seen as Case wobbles and tries to steady himself without putting more pressure on that leg.] JS: Case is up top! Eddie's not moving! [Sucking down the pain, Case puts his other foot down... and forces himself into the air... into a front flip...] JS: 450 SPLASH!!!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: HE MISSED! HE MISSED THE 450!!! TM: Eddie was playing possum! He was playing possum the whole time that Case was climbing the ropes and- [Popping up to his feet, Van Gibson pulls Case into a double underhook, leaping into the air and splitting his legs as he _drives_ the Golden God facefirst into the canvas!] JS: ASSHOLE DRIVER!! HE HIT THE ASSHOLE DRIVER!!! TM: That's it! Eddie's gonna win it! [Van Gibson flips Case onto his back and starts to cover... ...then stops.] JS: What the-?! What the hell is he doing?! TM: I don't know! He's got the match won! He's got the win! All he needs to do is hook that leg and make the cover! [The Idol O' Millions looks down at the stunned Case... and slowly shakes his head, pushing himself up to his feet.] JS: I don't get it! Why won't he-?! [And the crowd grows louder... and louder... and louder as Eddie Van Gibson bounces off the closest ropes, slowly raising one fist to the air as he hooks his thumb to point at himself... ...and _drives_ the fist down into the skull of his motionless foe! MOTHER OF ALL POPS!] JS: CANUCKLEDUSTER!! EVG AND THE CANUCKLEDUSTER!!! [And now? He covers.] JS: ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! NO!!! NO!!! [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: CASE GOT THE SHOULDER UP! BY GOD, DEVON CASE GOT THE SHOULDER UP IN TIME!!` [And this time, it's Eddie Van Gibson's turn to be irate, pushing up to his knees and glaring at Dick Longfellow.] JS: EVG's taking it out on Longfellow but that was so close! He thought he had it won... and quite frankly, so did I! TM: I think it was the Canuckleduster, Steggs. If he'd gone for the cover after the Asshole Driver, this match would be over right now. If he'd gone for it, we'd have a winner. [Van Gibson yanks Case off the mat by the hair, still yelling at the official.] TM: Stay on your game, Eddie. Stay focused on the prize. Stay on- [Suddenly, Case leans down and pulls Van Gibson's legs out from under him, flipping over into a double leg cradle.] JS: CRADLE!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [MASSIVE POP!] JS: Shoulder up! Van Gibson slipped a shoulder off the canvas just in the nick of time! [Both men scamper to their feet, looking to get the edge. Van Gibson lunges forward, scooping up Case.] JS: Hoists him up for a slam and- INSIDE CRADLE!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: Again! Again he gets the shoulder up! Devon Case with a couple of quick pin attempts and he almost won this match with both of those, Todd. TM: Eddie needs to avoid those. They can wear him down in a bad way. JS: Case back up... Eddie is up as- SUNSET FLIP BY CASE!!! [But instead of being pinned, Van Gibson drops down to his knees, pinning Case's shoulders to the mat.] JS: EVG WITH A PIN ATTEMPT!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [Narrowly avoiding a pin, Case lifts his legs off the mat, hooking Gibson's arms and taking him back down into the original sunset flip.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- NO! NO! NO! [Both men quickly get up again, Van GIbson uncorking a wild right hand... ...that Devon Case easily avoids, looking to hook EVG.] JS: CASE CLOSED! HE'S TRYING TO- [But Van Gibson spins away from it, hooking a schoolboy cradle and taking Case down again.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: Good lord! Both men moving so quickly! TM: They're running on fumes... on instinct. There's no way they have any idea what they're doing. Their bodies aren't even telling them how badly they hurt. Their brains have shut down completely. [Case quickly gets to his feet... and catches a boot to the gut.] JS: ASSHOLE DRIV- [The crowd deflates as Case lunges forward, slamming Van Gibson's back into the turnbuckles.] JS: Ohhh! Case blocked the Asshole Driver! Van Gibson is dazed... staggering out... [POP!] JS: HOOKED!! [And somehow... someway... Devon Case takes him up and over to the canvas.] JS: EXPLOOOOOOOIIIIIIDDAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! TM: One guess where he learned that one. JS: Case crawling towards him... looking for a cover... [The Golden God inches closer and closer... and throws an arm across his opponent's chest.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [EARTHSHATTERING POP!] JS: Oh my god! Oh my god! TM: Eddie Van Gibson refuses to lose! Refuses to stay down! [Case rolls onto his back, barely moving as the crowd settles from it's deafening roar.] JS: My god, Todd. What the hell is it going to take? TM: Devon Case is flat on his back... he can't believe it. He thought for sure he had it won right there. But Eddie Van Gibson is showing why he was a two time World Champion... why he is a Hall of Famer... and why men like Devon Case looked up to him coming into this business. JS: Case can't believe it! I can't believe it! These fans can't believe it! What more can he do to Eddie Van Gibson?! [Shaking his head, Case sits up... then stands... and rips off his kneepad to a huge pop!] JS: You know what that means! He's calling for the Shining Wizard! TM: And with that kneepad gone, it becomes even more dangerous! [Case leans against the ropes, waving for Van Gibson to rise... waving for his opponent... his longtime idol to get to a knee.] JS: He's waiting... just waiting for Van Gibson to get in position. [And soon? He does.] JS: CASE!! [The Golden God sprints across the ring, stepping up to Van Gibson's bent knee, lashing out with his other knee... ...and finding it snared in the waiting arms of Eddie Van Gibson who somehow twists the leg, snapping Case down to the canvas!] JS: DRAGON SCREW!! HE COUNTERED THE WIZARD WITH A DRAGON SCREW!!! [Case screams in pain upon hitting the canvas... which is all Eddie Van Gibson needs to hear as he gets to his feet, tying up the leg of Devon Case... ...and dropping down to the canvas, applying pressure on the badly injured knee of his opponent.] JS: FIGURE FOUR!! EVG's got the figure four applied! [Screaming in agony, Case sits up, clutching for his legs, blood streaming down his face.] JS: The pressure is on the knee! Case is screaming in pain... screaming in total agony. He needs to find a way out! TM: He's pumping the arms... trying to get to the ropes... trying to turn it over... whatever he needs to do. JS: The referee is right there... right there to see if he gives up... right there to see if- [Case screams out.] "AHHHHH GOD. YOU'RE BREAKING MY LEG!! AHHHHHHHHH!" [Van Gibson does not relent, leaning back, torquing the leg as much as he possibly can. Dick Longfellow is right there... close enough for Case to reach up and grab his shirt, pulling him towards him.] JS: Dick's trying to... look out, ref! He needs to back off! [Longfellow slaps Case's arms away, stepping back... asking again. And this time? He gets an answer.] "YES! YES! I QUIT!" [The crowd _erupts_ as Longfellow calls for the bell to end the match.] JS: HE GAVE UP! CASE GAVE UP!! TM: EDDIE VAN GIBSON HAS DONE IT!!! [Van Gibson breaks the hold, rolling away from a screaming Devon Case who reaches down to cradle his injured knee.] KG: Ladies and gentlemen.... your winner by submission... EDDIE VAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN GIBSONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!! [An enormous roar goes up from the J*STAR Festival crowd... paying tribute to both men for their efforts in the battle they've just been through.] JS: What a match! What a battle! And in the end, Eddie Van Gibson makes Devon Case give up! TM: He may have broken his damn leg in the process, Steggs. [The crowd continues to roar as EVG climbs up to his feet, raising a victorious arm and then looks down at Case, still clutching his knee in pain. The referee is right there to check on him, trying to help him to his feet.] JS: Fans, Devon Case may be hurt. Eddie Van Gibson's keeping an eye on him... he looks a little concerned as well. We may need some help out here for- [A large ovation goes up as the referee helps Case to his feet. The Golden God stands on one leg, trying to keep pressure off the other. He stares across the ring at Van Gibson who returns the gaze... ...and gives a brief nod of the head to the Idol O' Millions before rolling out onto the ramp, being helped to the back.] JS: And from a man like Devon Case... that may be as close as a sign of respect as you'll get. He knows that on this night... he was beaten by the better man. TM: It's a hard thing to do. Your ego takes a beating to show respect to someone who just beat you... let alone made you submit. But Devon Case, I think, just did. Congrats to both men. That was one hell of a matchup. JS: Indeed. Fans, while we get the ring clear of these two and prepare for our next match... let's go back to the locker room area where I understand Jon Keeton has caught up with the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder who will be putting his SJPW career on the line later tonight! [Cut to the backstage area where Jon Keeton stands waiting to speak.] JK: Thanks guys, I'm back in the lockerroom area where just moments ago Brody Thunder arrived. I'm hoping to get a -- [Suddenly Thunder walks around the corner into view.] JK: Brody Thunder! Brody! [Keeton quickly catches up with the big cowboy. Thunder scowls at Keeton as he continues walking.] JK: I'm sure the fans here tonight are wondering just what's going through your mind right now. Tonight you face a man who has .. well, basically _stalked_ you around the world! He's insulted you current employer, the SJPW. He's insulted and _assaulted_ you. He's even insulted and threatened your own fami-- [Thunder stops dead in his tracks and turns towards Keeton, his eyes wide with anger. He speaks in a measured angry tone through gritted teeth.] BT: That's right, Keeton, he _did_ threaten my family. That's why I signed this match. That's why I demanded Hardin's Rules. That's why I'm standin' here in front o'you like a caged animal waitin' fer feedin' time. If Joe Petrow wants ta hike it around the world ta jump my back, that's fine by me. But when he ever involved my family... [Thunder exhales a gutteral growl of rage.] BT: He made the flamin' _last_ mistake he's ever gonna make in this business! JK: Well this feud seems to go all the way back to the -- [Thunder abruptly cuts him off and snatches the mic from his hand.] BT: Shaddup! PETROW! Petrow, you slimy yella egg-suckin' dog! I know yer in the buildin'! I know yer sittin' in front o' a monitor right now watchin' me! Lissen an' lissen good,runt. [Thunder points a meaty index finger into the camera.] BT: You started alla this bullshit when ya jumped me in SJPW. You lived in the past with alla them ghosts o' the IIWF runnin' 'round in that nut factory you call a head an' finally you've lost it, pal! Gone right over the flamin' edge! Well when ya involved my family, ace, ya pushed me over that edge with ya. I ain't above smilin' as yer neck snap when I hit the Widowmaker on ya. I ain't above breakin' an' arm or rippin' apart a knee jus' fer the sheer pleasure o'lissenin' ta you scream, runt. It's reeeeeal simple, Joe. Winnin' comes second ta puttin' you outta wrasslin' fer good. As far as I'm concerned, the only flamin' way yer leavin' that ring here tanight... ..is with a gawdamn tag on yer toe. You unnerstand me, Petrow?! I ain't jus' comin' ta fight ya, son! I'm comin' ta end yer quest an' answer that question that's been hauntin' you fer the last six years o' jus' who _is_ the better man. The better man is starin' ya right in the face, Petrow. Yer gonna find that out tanight ... in that gawdamn ring... [Thunder snorts out these last words in wild-eyed fury.] BT: ..the _hard_ way. [Thunder hurls the mic to the floor with a furious THUD and we cut back to ringside where Jon Stegglet and Todd Michaelson are seated.] JS: Whew. Hell hath no fury like Brody Thunder. TM: That's gonna be a war, Steggs. And to those of you who thought you'd never see the day that myself and Chris Blue would promote an IIWF Tribute match... the moment is drawing closer and closer. And I can't think of a better tribute than those two doing battle. JS: Indeed. But before we go to that... this has certainly been one interesting Night Two here at J*STAR, Todd and about to get even more interesting as we are joining at our broadcoast booth by NEO-Pro play by play man, Johnny Johnson. TM: Thank God you didn't bring Teddy. JJ: It's a pleasure to be here and let me say that we've seen some pretty amazing action these past couple days, action that I know our two guys can live up to. No doubt. JS: Derek Irvin and Psicopa did win the Match of the Year last year in most of the magazines and internet polls and their rematch this year garnered a ton of attention, winning again on the mid year polls. TM: Only because... uh... I got no excuse. JJ: Third time's a charm they say and the world is about to see how charming these two can be. [Ken Graham enters the ring oncee more the crowd buzzing.] KG: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a NEO-Pro Showcase match and is scheduled for... A BEST TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS! TM: This better live up to the hype, Johnny. KG: Introducing first... #WHOO WHOO!# ["Diamonds and Guns" by the Transplants hits the PA system as "Deadly" Derek Irvin makes his way through the curtain and down towards the ring, his entrance music blaring throughout the arena. Irvin stops at the top of the ramp, a fist raised in the air and a smirk on his face, the crowd booing him.] #Bars cut me off and sending me home #I've taken more shots than Karl Malone #Battle looms #Your doom #Injustice - intombed TM: This guy _does_ have the talent, no doubt. JS: Even in his short stay in EMWC he made an impact. JJ: There's a reason we call him the best pure wrestler on the planet, guys. TM: I don't know. Judging by last night I think Travis Cade might have something to say about that. #Who gonna find them #When the time comes #Diamonds and guns #Diamonds and guns KG: Weighing in tonight at 219lbs... this is... "DEADLY" DEREK IRVIN! [Irvin wears a black tanktop that says "Playing God" on the front in white letters, as well as black ring tights with red trim, matching boots, elbow pads and wrist pads. Irvin jogs down to the ring and slides into it, spinning and posing for the crowd.] #It's a wicked world that we live in #It's cruel and unforgiving #It's a wicked world that we live in #It's cruel and unforgiving TM: This would be where Teddy talks about how much he hates Psicopa, right? #Whoo whoo! [Irvin heads to a corner turnbuckle and poses for the fans, jawing with a few fans in the front row, flashbulbs popping.] #Knock, knock, knock, who's that? It's Momma, son #Lookin' for the bitch who took the money and run #Now the daylight's gone and there's no more fun #And who's the fuckin' bitch who stole all the heroin? JJ: A quick history lesson... Psicopa won their first match at Stand and Deliver, an instant classic. Earlier this year Derek Irvin evened it up, making Psicopa tap out on INVASION! Deja Vu. This is the rubber match right there. JS: And it's why there is so much hype around this one. #Heroin, heroin, it's all gone #Smoked it all up, and now you got none #And now you look around and that's not the plan #This is not what you had in mind [Irvin heads to the corner turnbuckle and poses with his arm raised in the air, and then turns and sits down on the top turnbuckle and waits, a smirk on his face.] KG: And his opponent! VOICE: ROCK! JJ: Can you smell the re-match of the year coming up, Toddy? TM: Tell me you didn't- JS: Go with it. Please. [Michaelson sighs.] TM: I just hope DDI can finish the job on the freak this time. "Ooooooh!" Voice: Stop [The crowd pops as "Where Is My Mind?" by the Pixies starts to play over the PA system. The lights fade and purple and green lights swirl around the entrance ramp. As the lyrics start, a light fog is blown onto the entranceway.] JJ: Going all out even for us outsiders. Nice. # With your feet on the air and your head on the ground # # Try this trick and spin it, yeah # # Your head will collapse if there's nothing in it # # And you'll ask yourself # KG: From Mexico City, Mexico... weighing in at 200lbs... accompanied by Thaddeus Southerby Jr... [The lights stop swirling and snap to their positions down the entranceway.] # Where is my mind? # [Two inquisitive heads... Psicopa and his chimp-pal and manager, Thaddeus Southerby Jr, pop out and look around.] # Where is my mind? # [The two walk out and survey the crowd to a loud cheer.] # Where is my mind? # # Way out in the water, see it swimming # [Psi and Thad walk down the entranceway, slapping hands with fans as they go.] # I was swimming in the Caribbean # # Animals were hiding behind the rock # # Except for little fish # # When they told me he swims trying to talk to me, coy koi # [Reaching the ring, Psi rolls in as Thad uses the steps, the arena lights returning to normal.] # Where is my mind? # # Where is my mind? # # Where is my mind? # # Way out in the water, see it swimming # TM: It might be weird for NEO fans watching this. The crowd knows Psicopa, but he isn't the cult, massive babyface he is in Canada. JJ: He will be in a half hour or so. [The two stand on opposing sides eyes never leaving each other despite the multitudes of thousands, numbers they've never before been in front of, surrounding them with a loud buzz. A simple gesture from the referee... DING DING! ...and it's on.] JJ: here we go guys, the most storied rivalry and series in NEO history about to erupt! JS: And they start off standard into a collar and elbow lock up... and break. [And shoot right back into it... breaking again.] TM: Is there any reason these two have these matches? JJ: Do you like to watch really, really good wrestling, Todd? TM: Duh. JS: I think you answered your own question. [The two come hard back in, locking up again and after a couple seconds of jostling, push apart gnashing teeth in intensity.] JJ: We're seeing the rivalry already coming out. Neither wants to make a mistake here. TM: Not in front of a crown tenfold what NEO gets. JJ: Nice jab, assy. [And for a fourth time they lock up, this time not breaking. The two push back and forth, Irvin's size and strength taking advantage and pushing Psicopa back.] JJ: Psicopa's the smaller of the two but he's a pitbull in there. He won't let go, he won't give up. JS: And it's showing as these two move around the ring, across the ropes still in the lock up. TM: One of them has to give eventually. JJ: I don't know if either will. [Keeping the hold on, Irvin trips up Psicopa, the two tumbling backwards and through the ropes still tied up... ...until they hit the ground hard.] JJ: That dislodged the collar and elbow, both men scrambling up and back into the ring. TM: And right to a stand off. "SLAAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: Ouch. JJ: What a slap! What a slap right across Psicopa's face! Completely disrespectful. TM: I'd call it discipline. JS: Here comes Psicopa! JJ: And taken down with a drop toe hold, Derek Irvin floating over and grabbing the head. TM: A smart move, keeping the high flier off his feet. [Reaching in, Psicopa spins on the ground, putting Irvin into a hammerlock. DDI expertly spins out to a seated position and pushes up, reversing into his own hammerlock.] JJ: Derek Irvin is definitely going to have the advantage in a straight out wrestling match, against almost anyone. TM: Almost anyone is right. He hasn't tasted the talent PWR has to offer. JJ: Which I've seen and impressive it is... but it's no NEO. TM: True. We don't have monkeys. JS: Touche. [Not able to hit with a back elbow, Psicopa spins around and into a hammerlock, going right to a side headlock.] JJ: Irvin trying to get to a position more to his advantage and liking here, pushing down on the back of Psicopa's knee... and just like that gets an arm wrench. TM: And notice hos he's not only straightening out the arm but applying pressure on the wrist. JS: Psicopa rolling through... and reverses the hold. [And immediately Irvin reverses that!] JJ: VERY good chain wrestling here, Psicopa reversing the hold into his own arm wrench. [And again Irvin moves around, looking for an opening. Reaching with one hand he grabs the back of Psicopa's mask and pushes n the back of his knee. The masked star goes to a knee, Irvin stepping over it with one leg... then the other... reversing into a wrist lock and pushing around into a side headlock. ] JS: This crowd's really starting to show some appreciation for the abilities of these two. TM: We'll just have to see how being in front of twenty thousand affects them. This sport is often as much mental as physical. JJ: Knowing them it won't phase them a bit. Irvin keeping that headlock on tight, even going to a lower stance to keep the weight on and to keep Psicopa from escaping. [But Psicopa can push Irvin to the ropes and that he does.] JS: Psicopa pushes Irvin off, DDI off the ropes... headlock... and straight into a takeover! TM: Not bad, not bad at all. [Irvin rolls back into almost an on all fours position, pushing his head out and springing forward, putting Psicopa into a headlock.] TM: This Psicopa might be able to fly with the best, but it's Derek Irvin that's really schooling him here on the mat. JJ: Psicopa trying to stand up, pushing himself up to a position perhaps more suited for his style. JS: Only to be taken over by a headlock take over by DDI. JJ: And you might see this a lot, a lot of mirrored wrestling with these two being so alike. TM: It looks like Psicopa is trying the same escape. [And that he does, going to all fours and pushing out... ...launching up into a dropkick to a seated Irvin! POP!] JJ: RIGHT ON THE CHIN! [Clutching his moutch, a furious Irvin gets up and charges Psicopa but Psicopa pushes him past.] JS: Irvin off the ropes, Psicopa catching him... IRVIN WITH THE SPINNING HEADSCISSORS! JJ: Straight out of Psicopa's play book! TM(singing): Anything you can do, I can do betterrrrr. JJ: Psicopa was shocked by that but he's up, ducks a Derek Irvin back elbow, grabbing his wrist and whipping him at the ropes... reversed... [POP!]... PSICOPA WITH HEADSCISSORS! JS: And the pace is picking up big time. [To his feet lightning quick, Psicopa grabs Irvin and whips him at the ropes but oncee again DDI reverses and ducks for a back body drop... ...Psicopa turning and roll flipping off his back, slipping into a side headlock.] TM: If I were the faster guy in the match I wouldn't be slapping on a headlock. JJ: Irvin pushing him off... tackle by Psicopa! He's off the ropes, Irvin drops down, up... hiptoss... blocked! [Slapping Irvin's stomach, Psicopa places his leg over DDI's neck, snaring him as he stands up...] JJ: HURRICANRANA... BOTH UP... STAND OFF! [APPRECIATION APPLAUSE!] JJ: I told you they'd open eyes and they're doing that already! JS: And without either even scoring a fall yet! TM: It's... not bad. They're no Jaiden Andrews but not bad. [Incensed at the crowd cheering loudly for Psicopa, Derek Irvin erupts forward with punches... Psicopa avoiding them deftly!] TM: Wow. JS: Look at this speed! JJ: Psicopa avoiding the blows... [And even ducks backwards out of the way of a European uppercut. Irvin tries another big swing, Psicopa ducking under it... spinning around a back kick attempt... and ducking a back fist... the crowd getting to their feet as the speed picks up.] JJ: Psicopa off the ropes... DUCKS A YAKUZA... [And leaps, somersaulting over a low dropkick attempt.] JS: DOUBLE KIP UP! [HUGE POP!] TM: My god. That was just... yeah. Not bad. I didn't hate that. JJ: _THAT_ is why these two have ruled the Match of the Year Ballots in the past 8 months! The action these two put on... the chemisty... I dare say it's unmatched ANYWHERE in wrestling! [Even the competitors seemed overwhelmed by the response, most of the multi thousands on their feet in appreciation, clapping loudly.] JS: NEO-Pro's making a good showing for themselves already. TM: Not bringing that damn Teddy Smith sure helped. He'd be crapping all over this match. Worse then I am. JJ: We wanted the best representation for this once in a lifetime event and we couldn't have picked two more worthy competitors. [Who go to square off again, Irvin getting the instant upperhand with a hard forearm to the jaw of Psicopa.] JS: Irvin with solid forearms right across the jawline. Irish whip into the corner... JJ: And Psicopa gets his foot up, spinning around and ducks a clothesline! TM: And Irvin ducks a spinning heel kick! [And as Psicopa gets up he launches forward and low, taking over the back of Psicopa's leg!] JS: Knee clip! JJ: He's the master of attacking a body part whether it be the leg or arm, his two favorite targets. TM: He has the leg, kicking right at the hamstrings. This right here is what he needs to do. You can't fly around with only one leg. JJ: Psicopa might surprise you. JS: He's really attacking it, draping it over the bottom rope... and leaps up, landing right on it! [And the crowd groans in response as Irvin does it again, Psicopa's leg bending at an almost impossible angle.] TM: He's not giving Psicopa even a second to recover. He's sticking right on it, at the very least stomping the joint or even simply stepping on it. This is a great strategy. JJ: He's almost certainly looking for the sharpshooter here and if he locks it on Psicopa might not be able to escape. JS: Derek Irvin's picking him up and stays on the knee... with a shinbreaker! [And keeping a hold on the limb he turns into a one legged boston crab.] JJ: Half crab here, working on that leg and look how he has his hands. Right behind the knee. TM: Adding more pressure and leverage. Good eye, rookie. JJ: Rookie?! I've been calling NEO matches for four years! You know, almost the same amount of time you flaked out on us. TM: Ouch. JS: If you guys weren't arguing you'd notice that Psicopa's getting near the ropes. [And he does... only Irvin pulls him bakc to the cneter of the ring!] JJ: This could be it! This half crab could be what it takes for Derek Irvin to get the first fall! JS: Which will put him at a severe advantage. TM: Especially with Psicopa's leg being torn apart like it is. [Psicopa pushes up and actually manages to get up to his feet, using Irvin's grip as a lever.] JJ: Psicopa up... ENZUIGIRI--MISSES! [POP! But a back kick doesn't!] JS: That broke the hold! JJ: Psicopa grabbing Irvin now, whip into the corner... reversed... [And once again the crowd is brought back to their feet as Psicopa springs off the middle rope with one foot, to the other side of the corner on the top rope, ,leaping backwards and snaring Irvin's head...] TM: TRIANGLE HURRICANRANA! JS: WOW! [BIG POP!] JJ: And Derek Irvin is sent to the floor! JS: And a baseball slide dropkick sends him into the railing! [The buzz loud, Psicopa gets onto the apron and leaps up... to the top rope... ...sailing suicidally backwards! HUGE POP!] JJ: MOOOOOOOONSAULT! JS: AND HE NEARLY OVERSHOT, LANDING IN THE AUDIENCE!! TM: Talk about a car wreck. JJ: Of epic proportions! I've seen Psicopa get elevation but that was just amazing! He's feeding off the energy of this crowd, you can tell! [Rolling Irvin in he follows up, hooking a leg!] JS: And the first pin of the match! ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT!] TM: Derek Irvin still has a TON of fight left in him by the looks of that kick out. JJ: He's a warrior, no doubt about that. JS: He has the advantage now. This match was looking bleak for him but he's managed to turn it completely around in one minute. JJ: No one has the heart Psicopa does, _NO ONE_. He will fight until his dying breath and keep going after that. [Getting Irvin up he whips him into the corner, backing off for a charge. He runs in... ...Irvin stopping him with a dropkick to the knee! OHHHHHH!] TM: That does it! This is over now! JJ: What a dropkick! Derek Irvin right on target there, right on the knee... and picks him up... ramming his knee into the corner! JS: And into... into a one legged tree of woe! [Where he stomps at the exposed joint, drawing grunts of pain from Psicopa.] JJ: He's going after that knee, right after the target he picked earlier and without remorse. TM: Remorse is for losers and I doubt Derek Irvin is a loser. JJ: But he is pulling Psicopa off and whips him off the ropes, catching him. [With a tilt a whirl he sends Psicopa up... but the masked man somehow keeps spinning landing on his feet! In one quick motion he pushes off and back into the other direction, grabbing Irvin's arm and throwing him off with an arm drag! POP!] JJ: No one throws a better arm drag! JS: What's he doing now! [Waiting for Irvin to get up, Psicopa runs and leaps backwards off the second rope...] JJ: HIS MOONSAULT DDT-- [...and grabs Irvin in a front headlock only for Irvin to lash out with a kick at his knee!] JJ: --BLOCKED! INNOVATIVE COUNTER! TM: That move might have won this fall too. JJ: That move is a match ender, no doubt... "THWAAAAP!" JS: ENZUIGIRI BY PSICOPA! [POP!] "THWAAAAP!" JJ: ANOTHER! [This time Irvin goes down, allowing Psicopa to pull himself up.] TM: He's shaking out the leg, trying to ease the pain and get circulation going again but it might be too late. JS: Psicopa is so quick! JJ: And has Derek Irvin up, whips him across the ring... and catches him with a knee to the gut! TM: Kitchen sink... but he hurt his own knee! [Falling he clutches at it, swearing at himself for the error.] JJ: He hurt himself putting Irvin down... IRVIN TAKES OUT THE LEG! [The crowd starts to boo Irvin, the cocky technician smiling.] JS: He doesn't seem to care he's being booed on the biggest wrestling stage of them all. JJ: I don't think he cares. TM: Why should he? He's out to do a job and he's doing it pretty well if you ask me. JJ: Picking Psicopa up and [THUD!] BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX! TM: And the cover! [Adding a deep hook of the leg.] ONE! TWO! [POP as Psicopa kicks out.] TM: Notice how tight that pin cover was? He's bringing his A game. JS: As is everyone to J*STAR. TM: Minus the no showing Rumble Pro and AWE...oh, and Caleb Temple. JS: Rough night, huh buddy? TM: You don't even know. JJ: Irvin pulling Psicopa up... forearm! "SMACK!" WHOOOOOOO! [And after the chop hits another forearm!] JJ: Derek Irvin lighting Psicopa up... "SMACK!" WHOOOOOOO! "SMACK!" WHOOOOOOO! JS: Two more chops... and more forearms. TM: If breaking his leg doesn't work, knock him out. That's not a bad strategy at all. JJ: Whip by Irvin, Psicopa ducking a clothesline... CRUCIFIX! [Despite the crowds preemptive pop, Irvin doesn't go over, blocking and actually lifting Psicopa up onto his shoulders!] JJ: Fireman's carry! TM: It looks like he's going for a death valley driver. JS: Psicopa isn't going down easy! He's fighting even from there! JJ: And still has his legs around Irvin's arm, holding his other. He's refusing to go over or be taken down. [Shifting his weight towards Irvin's head Psicopa suddenly moves the other direction... "THUUUUUUD!" ...sending Irvin crashing to the mat! INNOVATION POP!] JJ: A HIGH SPEED CRUCIFIX PIN LIKE MOVE... PSICOPA WITH THE COVER! [The crowd counting along.] ONE! TWO! TH--KICKOUT! [MIXED POP!] TM: I was sure that was it. That move just drove Irvin's head into the mat. JJ: And Psicopa has found adrenaline and a second wind, scooping up Irvin and slamming him down [The crowd POPS as Psicopa steps over him and hits a standing moonsault... ...getting right up and hitting a flipping leg drop!] JJ: There's that atheticism and ability that gave him the reputation as the best junior heavyweight ever. TM: I think a few ex-EMWCers might have issues with you saying that. JJ: Then I challenge them to come test out Psicopa for themselves. JS: Psicopa with the cover. ONE! TWO! JJ: And Irvin kicks out. TM: Psicopa didn't have a good pin. He didn't hook a leg. JJ: He's up again, Irvin trying to recover. Psicopa off the ropes... [THWACK!]... AND RUNS STRAIGHT AT HIM WITH A BASEMENT DROPKICK TO THE EAR! [Irvin is sent in a twirl, Psicopa grabbing him and pulling him up.] JS: This is one hell of a second wind as Psicopa has completely turned the tide here. JJ: And whips off Irvin again... clothesline... DDI ducks... BACKSLIDE... [POP as Psicopa flips right out and over Irvin, landing in front of him!] JS: What agility! JJ: And what a jawbreaker by Psicopa! He has Irvin's head... [And runs at the turnbuckles and right up them...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [BIG POP!] JJ: TORNADO ACE CRUSHER! WHAT A MOVE! JS: THIS HAS TO BE IT! ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [OHSOCLOSEPOP!] TM: That was DAMN close! JJ: As close as you are going to see! Psicopa almost went up one to nothing in this best two out of three falls match! JS: Irvin still down and Psicopa's heading to very familiar territory! JJ: He's heading for the top! He could be looking for the Freefall or the Skytwizzler Press or who knows that. This guy has such a repetoire of aerial moves. TM: God, you'd think you're trying to sell him or something. He isn't a used car. [As Psicopa gets near the top Derek Irvin suddenly starts up and grabbs the ref, pushing him into the ropes and crotching Psicopa! MALE SYMPATHY!] JS: That's a way to stop him! JJ: And Irvin's climbing up after him. He's going to try and bring Psicopa down and get back into the offense here. [Grabbing Psicopa he latches on a front headlock and tries to lift him up, only Psicopa lashes out with punches to his side.] JJ: Psicopa's fighting back! He doesn't want to go over. TM: Well duh. This would be a huge error if he did. JJ: He's fighting for his life up there... and pushes Irvin off! [And gets up, leaping straight up...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HUGE SHOCKED POP!] JJ: HE MISSED THE CANNONBALL SENTON! TM: Irvin played possum to perfection! JS: And now he's up! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HIGHSPOT POP!] JJ: AND HITS AN ASAI MOONSAULT! FALL ONE GOES TO... ONE! TWO! THRE-- [BIG POP!] JJ: IT DOES _NOT_ GO TO DEREK IRVIN! JS: Psicopa kicked out and barely. TM: Derek Irvin's not dead yet. [GASP!] JJ: STF! IRVIN WITH THE STF! TM: A move that is so hard to escape, if not impossible against someone like him. [The crowd starts cheering on Psicopa loudly as he fights for the ropes, reaching out with a free hand, trying to pull himself across the mat with his other.] JS: There's that heart you were talking about. TM: Heart won't stop your neck from being snapped. JJ: Psicopa not giving up. The referee is right there, checking, but he is not giving up. [Irvin wrenches back even harder, pulling with all his might as Psicopa gets near the ropes. He reaches out, pain evident even with the mask, reaching... ...reaching... ...reaching... ...only to be pulled away!] JJ: Irvin has him! He has him here! TM: He's going to have to tap! He has no choice! [Psicopa, nearly done suddenly lurches forward and lifts an arm, fingers extended... ...and gets the ropes! BIG TIME POP!] TM: That reaction was certainly unexpected. This crowd is FULLY behind Psicopa now. JJ: And Derek Irvin doesn't like it, stomping at Psicopa's knee. He is in killer mode. JS: Which can't bode well for Psicopa at all. [Lifting Psicopa but the ankle, Irvin drives his knee into the mat, drawing another scream of pain.] JS: Psicopa can't go through another submission like that. TM: Derek Irvin looking to soften him up, for a wheelbarrow suplex it looks like, lifting... [Only Psicopa manages to not go over, instead spinning around Irvin and rolling him up! POP!] JJ: WHAT A PIN! ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT!] JS: Irvin's getting up... TM: Double leg tackle by Psicopa, bridging over for the pin! ONE! TWO! JJ: They bridge up... BACKSLIDE BY PSICOPA! [Before going over Irvin manages to free an arm, spinning Psicopa around.] JS: Irvin escapes! JJ: PSICOPA WITH A SMALL PACKAGE OUT OF NOWHERE! ONE! TWO! THREE! [HUGE SHOCKED POP!] JJ: PSICOPA WINS THE FIRST FALL! WHAT A DECISIVE WIN! JS: Now Irvin has to play catch up! TM: KNEE CLIP! JS: So much for the thirty second rest period between falls! [The crowd boos heavily as the referee pushes Irvin back. He smirks, shrugging non chalantly as Psicopa struggles up, clutching at his knee. The referee, concern etched across his face, falls flat on his ass as Irvin steps in again, grabbing Psicopa and dropping him down with a shinbreaker!] JJ: The thirty seconds are up and Derek Irvin has taken it upon himself to get the second fall in the best of three started. TM: He's stomping the knee, attacking it like a mad man. JJ: He did a fair amount of damage to it already in this match, picking Psicopa up... another shinbreaker! JS: He's holding on! JJ: ANOTHER! [OH!] A THIRD! He is tearing Psicopa's knee to shreds! TM: And he's keeping a hold of that leg, not letting Psicopa get away or use it. [OUCH!] JJ: DRAGON SCREW LEG WHIP! JS: And there goes his joint. Derek Irvin has targetted it with all weapons blazing. JJ: And blazingly angry he is after losing the first fall in this match and going behind. He knows he's in catch up mode now. [Grabbing Psicopa's leg he pulls him near the corner and slips out... but keeps pulling so Psicopa's legs are on either side of the ring post. He smirks once more, winding up and SMACKING the limb across the cold steel! HEEL POP!] TM: There is NO give! That is solid steel right there. JJ: Irvin's wrapping up those legs... AND LOCKS ON A HANGING FIGURE FOUR AROUND THE POST! [Again the crowd BOOS and gives sympathy to Psicopa at the same time.] JS: What a deadly hold. TM: Hence the name I suppose. JJ: The referee has to break this hold! It is NOT legal whatsoever! He can't be allowed to do this. TM: He has a five count and it taking every second of it... there, he let go. [Taking his time to jaw at some fans, Irvin slides back into the ring, letting Psicopa get himself up.] JJ: The arrogance of this man is sickening at times. He'll try and cripple a man, try and end his career and have a good time doing it. TM: The Killing Box kinda does the same thing. Minus the smirking... and with more crippling and finger chopping off. JS: And buyrate. JJ: Nice jab, Steggy. JS: ... [Waiting for Psicopa to turn towards him, Irvin kicks him in the gut, underhooking both arms. He goes to lift... but Psicopa stands up straight, sending Irvin over! POP!] JJ: DDI was going for his Tiger Bomb but Psicopa escaped! TM: And hurt his knee more in the process! Every bit of weight he adds will just do more damage. JS: But he is on the offensive here, picking up DDI... [Kip up!] "THUUUUUD!" [WHOA, COOL! POP!] JJ: BACKLASH DDT! SIGNATURE DEREK IRVIN RIGHT THERE! JS: And the cover! ONE! TWO! THR--[POP!] JJ: Psicopa kicks out just before the three count. TM: He's starting to lose some energy now. The assault on his leg is draining him. This may be a better plan then even I anticipated. JS: And he's lifting Psicopa up again... and places him on the top rope! TM: Hello cajones. JJ: I am not sure what he's going for here. [And neither does the crowd, many standing as Irvin backs off... only to charge right back in, spearing the side of Psicopa's leg, sending him tumbling hard to the floor below! BIG POP!] TM: That was certainly unique! He just up and speared Psicopa's bad wheel. You guys in NEO might have something with this kid. JJ: We've known that for some time now Todd. Derek Irvin is one HELLUVA talent... and I think he's about to show it right now. Brace yourselves guys, this is going to be something. [Waiting for Psicopa to get up Irvin starts running... ...and does a cartwheel... ...and then a backhandspring... ...flying over the ropes and to the floor... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNGHHHHHHH!" ...missing! MONSTER POP!] TM: HE MISSED! JS: HE MISSED THE SPACE FLYING TIGER DROP! [Which impresses the crowd in a very EMWC sort of way.] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! JJ: WHAT A MISS BY DEREK IRVIN, ONE THAT MAY HAVE COST HIM THIS MATCH! TM: That was damn quick thinking by Psicopa. He had to move and he did, but made sure he could get Irvin in the proceess. JS: And he rolls in to break a possible count out... and back onto the apron. You've seen him more then we have. What could he be planning here. JJ: I couldn't even fathom but if it's anything like what DDI just did... [Standing as close to the turnbuckle as possible Psicopa waits for Irvin to stir. One hands is raised in the air as if to tell the crowd to watch him.] JJ: Here he comes... [And watch them they do... erupting into a huge POP!] JS: APRON DIVE SHOOTING STAR PRESS! OH MY LORD, WHAT A MOVE! [Now they're catching on, a growing portion of the crowd getting into the match!] PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! TM: The pace is starting to pick up. JJ: Psicopa picking up Derek Irvin and rolling him into the ring and back up onto the apron... [POP!] vaulting in with a slingshot spinning splash! JS: Move over Dominique Wilkins. I think we have our highlight reel with this little guy. TM: He makes a cover. ONE! TWO! TH--KICKOUT! JJ: And Derek Irving still showing the fight that brbought him to the game. TM: He needs to get back into this game quick. JJ: Psicopa back to his feet, still limping and up to the top rope, Irvin below him... [THUD!]... SPLIT LEGGED MOONSAULT CONNECTS! ANOTHER COVER! [POP!] ONE! TWO! THR-- JS: Another kickout! This Psicopa might not have a rest hold in him but dammit if he isn't exciting to watch. TM: That could catch up to him. You can't just go for big move after big move. It will catch up to you eventually. JJ: Psicopa still up one fall to nothing here in NEO-Pro's showcase match at J*STAR as he pulls Derek Irvin up and into the corner... stunning him with a big punch and whipping him across into the other corner. TM: Every time you hit those turnbuckles it knocks the wind right from you. Psicopa's slowing Irvin down with this. JS: But he's not slowing down, charging in... JUMPING KNEE--MISSED! JJ: Derek Irvin moved at the last possible second... and locks him up in an abdominal stretch! TM: Smart thinking! Smart! [Aggravating the hold, DDI reaches down, grabbing one of Psicopa's legs and pulling it backwards. The crowd pops for the innovation, Psicopa squirming in pain.] TM: He's sticking to that leg and to his game plan. Psicopa won't be flipping around much longer, let alone walking. JJ: Vintage Irvin, picking a body part and going after it like a shark smelling blood. JS: You said the Sharpshooter is a favorite weapon of his. All this work is obviously setting up to it but Psicopa's faced Irvin twice now in big singles matches. He has to know this. JJ: I am sure he does, but Irvin's like that. He'll fight and fight until he gets what he wants. [Reaching out, Psicopa grabs the top rope, pulling himself to it to avoid further damage from Irvin. The referee pulls him away as Psicopa tries to shake the pain from his leg.] JJ: Irvin back in, stomping the leg and knee. Psicopa can barely stand and isn't defending himself at all. TM: Pain will do that to you. JJ: Irvin grabbing that leg... [And pushes in, reaching and grabbing around Psicopa's head with the leg over his shoulder.] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [OHHHHH!] JJ: CAPTURE SUPLEX! TM: WITH A BRIDGE! ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [BIG POP!] JS: Look how fast Irvin moves right to the next move. TM: Not even letting go of Psicopa. "THUUUUUUUUUD!" JJ: FISHERMAN'S SUPLEX THIS TIME, HOLDING ON AND BRIDGING! ONE! TWO! [POP as Psicopa kicks out again, irvin slapping the mat in frustration.] TM: Even if it didn't work, those were some smart, smart suplexes! Each one used the leg as a focal point for the pin. JJ: DDI picking Psicopa again from behind. He has the arms... JS: TOMIKAZ-- [GASP!] JJ: Psicopa pushes him into the corner... SCHOOL BOY! ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [PROTEST POP!] JS: The referee's getting a work out tonight! TM: Both up, Psicopa ducks an Irvin clothesline. Inverted headlock [OH!] AND SPIKES IRVIN DOWN ONTO HIS KNEE! JJ: _HE_ IS HOLDING ON! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [BIG POP!] JJ: INVERTED ROCKER DROPPER! JS: This could be it! ONE! TWO! [The crowd boos once again as Irvin kicks out, holding his arm up after getting his shoulder up. Almost as if he didn't believe he did it.] JJ: Irvin's down after that flurry. JS: And Psicopa's up. [The crowd... "THUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...erupts!] JJ: BACKFLIP KNEE DROP MISSED! IRVIN ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY! [And with Psicopa still kneeling he leaps, grabbing Psicopa's head and snapping him backwards with a sleeper neckbreaker. _SNAPS_ him backwards. The crowd responds justly with a SICK POP!] TM: Dear god. JS: Psicopa's spine... his knees... his neck! He was damn near broken in half. TM: Or worse! JJ: And after that crippling move I dare say that Derek Irvin is damn close to tying this up if not finishing it quick. He's picking up Psicopa. TM: Or what is left of him. JJ: He has him in the corner... whips him across... [But somehow Psicopa manages to leap up to the second rope and backwards, turning as he does.] JJ: CROSSBODY BY PSICOPA-- [But instead of taking it in the chest Irvin ducks early, rolling backwards with a leg snared. More specifically...] JS: ANKLE LOCK! Shades of Gabriel Whitecross and Mark Langseth by Derek Irvin! TM: And on the bad leg. [The crowd is once again on their feet as Psicopa scurries on his hands, trying to get to the ropes. DDI screams as he wrenches, trying his damndest to break the joint.] JJ: Derek Irvin has him caught! He has him in that ankle lock and tight. TM: This is going to tie it up! JS: I don't know if we can count him out. TM: But we will. JJ: Psicopa isn't giving up. He's fighting for his life in there. He is fighthing with everything he has... ...and gets the ropes! [BIG FACE POP!] TM: He just won't give up. You're right, Johnny, he won't give up. JJ: It's happened but it's a rare thing to see. His heart is unmatched. [Trying to pull himself up again, Psicopa is assailed, Irvin stomping him in the spine before grabbing his leg and ducking under it, standing so that Psicopa hangs beside him.] TM: THIS is what I call a leg rack! He has that Stretch Muffler on. JS: And standing at the same time. [OHHHHHHH!] JJ: He SWUNG Psicopa into the turnbuckles! TM: He is always, always doing something. He never just has a hold on, he is always doing something else to make it that much worse. JJ: AGAIN! Into the turnbuckles headfirst! [The crowd can't help but pop, Irvin dropping Psicopa roughly.] JS: That was a unique way to wear someone down. TM: All while keeping on the leg like he has all match. JJ: Irvin pulling Psicopa back to his feet, back to a standing position again... HEADBUTT! ANOTHER! [Psicopa staggers back, Irvin over hooking both arms.] "THUUUUUUUUUD!" [POP!] JJ: DOUBLE ARM OVERHEAD SUPLEX BY DEREK IRVIN! TM: That one had nothing to do with getting a submission. That was pure mean right there. JS: Dumping Psicopa on his head. [Dropping down, Irvin hooks a leg deep, covering Psicopa.] TM: Nice cover. ONE! TWO! THR-- [RELIEF POP!] JJ: But not enough! JS: He's grabbing that leg again. JJ: This time over a shoulder and standing... Psicopa is hanging upside down behind him! His leg is being stretched as the blood rushes to his head. Deadly. Simply deadly. JS: How fitting I suppose. TM: It's Psicopa's weight tearing at the muscle and joint now. All two hundred pounds of him hanging by that knee, pulling down. [Grabbing at his own face to mask the pain, Psicopa suddenly gets energy... from somewhere... and heaves himself up with a roar of effort so that he sits on top of Irvin's shoulders.] JS: WOW! [The crowd gets up knowing something is going to happen...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEAD BUMP POP~!] JJ: RIGHT ON HIS HEAD! HE DUMPED IRVIN RIGHT ON HIS HEAD WITH A REVERSE RANA! JS: And the tide of this match has changed! TM: Psicopa better take advantage while he can. _If_ he can. [Both remain down, Psicopa instinctively clutching at his shredded knee, Irvin grunting in pain as he lays there, breathing heavy.] JJ: These two are battered. These two are beaten. JS: And STILL only one fall out of a possible three has been scored. What a match so far here at J*STAR. TM: With the best yet to come. JJ: Both men struggling up to their feet... [And the crowd FIRMLY behind Psicopa as they do.] JJ: This could be a major turning point. If one of them can get the strong advantage here and go on the offensive we could see another fall. JS: And if Psicopa gets it, the end of the match. JJ: Both getting up... "THWAAAP!" [YOUCH!] JJ: WHAT A PUNCH BY PSICOPA! JS: DDI is reeling and Psicopa scoops him up. JJ: CHIMP DR-- TM: HIS KNEE! [And it gives, buckling under the weight allowing Irvin to slip out behind. Falling to a knee, he reaches in and takes Psicopa down, once again interlocking his hands around the ankle.] TM: Ankle lock! ANKLE LOCK! [Thinking quickly, Psicopa rolls over to his back, pushing Irvin off with his free leg. Irvin bounces off the ropes, coming back and leaping with a somersault, grabbing Psicopa's leg as he does and snapping it over quickly!] JS: ANOTHER innovative counter to a counter by Irvin, wrenching the leg again. TM: _Everything_ is focused on that now, everything. [Getting up Irvin draws his thumb across his throat, garnering a LOUD HEEL POP!] JJ: He is ending it right here, standing over Psicopa... SHARPSHOOTER--SMALL PACKAGE BY PSICOPA! [MAJOR SHOCKED POP/CROWD COUNTING ALONG!] ONE! TWO! THREE--NOOOOO! [DISAPPOINTMENT CITY!] TM: Not twice in a row! JS: That small package worked the first time but Irvin was able to get out... [OH!] JJ: And LEVEL Psicopa with a flying forearm! TM: Cover! ONE! TWO! [POP as Psicopa kicks out!] TM: He's starting to go for pinfalls after every move now. He knows he needs to get a pinfall to tie this up before Psicopa gets another wind. JJ: And he's putting Psicopa up top, looking to get that very pinfall right here and now. Climbing up after, trying to hook Psicopa perhaps for that avalanche brainbuster of his. TM: Damn. There's an ender right there. JS: Psicopa's fighting! He has spunk! [Lighting up the midsection of Irvin with punches, Psicopa quits... instead using both hands to push him off, Irvin landing on his back below him. Psicopa begins to stand... and the crowd begins to buzz... ...broken as Irvin gets up and after him again.] TM: Psicopa isn't the only one with spunk. JJ: Irvin fighting for that superplex or brainbuster, trying to hook Psicopa again... and Psicopa's fighting! He's fighting again... [The punches finally start to show some effect, Irvin tilting to one side. Psicopa quickly ducks an amr under the leg and stands.] JS: There's some power. TM: There's some... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!~!" ...OH MY LORD. [HUUUUUUUGE POP!] JJ: A MICHINOKU DRIVER OFF THE SECOND ROPE! HE CALLS THAT THE CHIMP DROP! JS: I CALL THAT THE FALL AND THE MATCH! [Feeling the aftermath himself, Psicopa clutches at his knee, finally rolling towards Irvin and draping across his chest.] TM: He... man... that was from the second rope. JJ: THIS IS... ONE! TWO! THREE-- --NOT ENOUGH! DEREK IRVIN KICKED OUT, BY GAWD HE KICKED OUT OF THAT! TM: What a match! I can't believe I am liking a NEO match, but this one is a doozy. JS: Psicopa can win this! He can win this if he stays on him! JJ: His leg is a mess and that Chimp Driver must have hurt him good... but he's up again! He knows it as well as we do. He CAN win this match right now. [And to familiar territory he goes, climbing to the top rope. Taking his time, his bad leg almost dragging, Psicopa finally gets up... the crowd going NUTS... and he leaps... ...spinning backwards while leaping forwards... ...overrotating while extending a leg... ...only to land right across the lifted knees of Derek Irvin! MAJOR SHOCKED POP!] JJ: IRVIN BLOCKED THE FREEFALL! HE BLOCKED THE FREEFALL WITH HIS OWN LEGS! TM: That did it! Psicopa is officially a cripple after that! [Irvin, still hurt himself, rolls under the bottom rope and onto the apron. Psicopa lays on the mat, nearly KOed after the rough landing. Spread eagle he pants heavily, the crowd screaming at him to move.] JS: It's Derek Irvin's turn to show some athleticism. He's on the top rope now... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEEL HEAT CITY!] JJ: FLYING ELBOW TO THE KNEE! RIGHT TO THE KNEE! TM: He's not done! He's going back up again! He's not trying to win anymore. He's trying to cripple. JJ: Derek Irvin climbing quickly to the top rope. He is going to... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" ...FROGSPLASH PSICOPA'S LEG! TM: Call this one! It's over! [Fired up, Irvin jumps to his feet, snarling and drawing his thumb across his throat lightning quick.] JJ: Psicopa's leg is done for. It has to be broken! JS: Here it comes... JJ: SHARPSHOOTER! [RIOT POP!] JJ: HE HAS THE SHARPSHOOTER LOCKED ON! TM: Give it up Psicopa. Maybe you'll have a career after this still. [Psicopa screams, reaching for the ropes in desperation. He crawls on his fingertips, reaching... reaching... ...only for Irvin to pull him away.] TM: He has this locked on too tight! Psicopa can't escape! JJ: He can't! Not a chance... [Reaching up an arm he taps the mat quickly, pounding until the referee forcibly breaks the hold. HUGE ASS DISAPPOINTMENT POP!] JS: And we're tied up at one! [Graham's voice comes over the speakers, almost deafened by the boos for Irvin.] KG: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is now tied at one. The man to gain the next fall shall win this match! JJ: You heard him folks! The next fall is the winner be it submission or pinfall. [Psicopa keeps laying on the mat, pulling down his knee pad. The referee checks on him, ,a ringside official even conferring from outside. Psicopa shakes his head with vehemence even as the referee says he has to start the third fall... ...and as soon as he does Irvin is on Psicopa!] JJ: SHARPSHOOTER AGAIN! [PROTEST!] JS: A third fall already! It could possibly be! TM: You saw how bad his knee was! He even pulled down the padding because of the swelling. [Psicopa scrambles, trying to get the roeps as Irvin leans back yelling at him to quit.] JJ: How can he withstand this pain?! HOW?! Derek Irvin has targetting the knee of Psicopa all match. He has kicked it, stomped it, stretched it, rammed it into the mat and post. How Psicopa can even stand let alone withstand this pain is beyond my comprehension. TM: You're the one who said he had heart. That might have something to do with it. [Psicopa continues to struggle, the crowd one hundred percent behind him, screaming in support as he tries to get the ropes... ...and finally does to a MASSIVE response!] JJ: HE GOT THE ROPES! JS: The rest he got between falls saved his life. Without it he would have had to quit again. I guarantee that. TM: What do you know Steggasaurus? [Releasing the hold, Irvin pushes Psicopa out onto the apron, stepping through the ropes and following him.] JJ: The match is leaving the ring once again it seems, Irvin pushing Psicopa out onto the apron. He lifts him up, grabbing that leg... a shinbreaker!? TM: Maybe right off the apron itself. JS: I think that IS what he's going for! He's going to do all the damage he can now and make Psicopa quit. JJ: Lifts up... [But as he leaps off, Psicopa grabs the ropes, saving his own ass!] JJ: He saved himself! [And up and punts Irvin in the face while hanging!] TM: Even in a weird position he fights back. Amazing. [Turning while holding his mouth, DDI lashes out, taking Psicopa's legs out from under him. He hits the apron backfirst, Irvin climbing back up and on.] JJ: If at first you don't succeed. TM: He's got tenacity like few I've seen. That's what makes a good wrestler great. You know what you want and you go for it full force, all guns blazing. JJ: Irvin picking up Psicopa again... [But out of nowhere Psicopa breaks the grip, leaping up and snaring Irvin's head, ,his feet in his hips... ...and throws him over head!] "CLUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKGHHHHHHHHHH!" [DDI hits the turnbuckles upside and backfirst, falling unceremoniously to the ground to a HUGE POP!] JS: WHAT A MOVE! TM: What a comeback move. JJ: Irvin landed almost head first out there. That might have been the first monkey flip to ever end a match. [Irvin struggles up clutching his neck and head, swinging about in a daze. Psicopa sees this, getting up and grabbing the top rope as Irvin starts below him on the floor.] JS: What is he doing here?! He only has one good leg. JJ: This looks like... [HIGHSPOT F'N CITY!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK!" ...IT IS! THE MOONSAULT DDT ONTO THE FLOOR! HE HIT IT ON THE FREAKING FLOOR! TM: And it took everything he had to do it I bet. JS: That is probably all he needed. [The fans sure think so.] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! [The referee alternating between the two, checking on them, both lay on the floor, unmoving.] JJ: It took everything Psicopa had and it worked, drilling Derek Irvin right into the floor head first out of nowhere. JS: And from high! Psicopa leapt straight up, springboarding high and catching Irvin hard on the way down. There was no stopping that, none at all. TM: But how smart was it. If he doesn't get the win of this, the move was for nothing. He had to use his knee, his bad knee, to do it. JJ: We're about to see, Psicopa rolling Irvin in. [And with some struggle follows up, rolling on top for a pin.] JS: Lateral press by Psicopa... ONE! TWO! THRE-- [SHOCKED POP!] JJ: HE KICKED OUT! TM: Psicopa's dead now. JJ: He has more then that in his offensive repetoire. He isn't done yet. JS: He might not think he is, but his knee is gone. JJ: Watch and learn guys, watch and learn. [Psicopa gets up, pulling himself up and favoriung his leg. He shakes it out, a futile effort at best, trying to get blood flowing again. He rests before going after Irvin, pulling him up and into a double underhook.] JJ: Psicopa has Irvin... who pushes him back into the corner! TM: The only way to save yourself in a situation like that. JS: Irvin abcking off and charging... RIGHT INTO A KICK! TM: With the bad leg! [And the results show, Psicopa grimacing... ...Irvin dropkicking low into the joint, turnbuckle behind it!] TM: That knee had nowhere to go! Irvin squashed it with that dropkick! [Psicopa bends over in pain, holding his appendage. Irvin locks on a standard front headlock and lifts Psicopa up as if to sit him on the top rope... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" ...instead dropping him down.] JJ: WHAT A DDT! WHAT AN IMPLANT STYLE DDT!! TM: IF he isn't going to give up, knock him out. Sounds like a solid plan to me. JS: DDI with a cover! ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [HUGE POP!] JJ: Irvin was THIS close to wrapping it up. TM: It's time for the big guns now. End this match while you can. Now. JS: He's putting Psicopa back up top. One more big move like that... JJ: And it's over. [This time Psicopa doesn't affer as much resistance, Irvin easily climbing up and hooking him. He lifts him... Psicopa hooking a foot around the second turnbuckle.] JS: He really wants to hit that brainbuster. TM: He tries again... blocked. [And then the punches come, Psicopa lifting Irvin up to the top rope... punching him again.] JJ: Psicopa's fighting back now. He is fighting and... wait... WAIT! [With DDI practically sitting on his shoulders, Psicopa stands up... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [ENORMOUS POP!] JJ: SUPER BOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMB!! [The impact so great, Psicopa actually bounces upon landing. Irvin lays there, flipping over onto his stomach. He arches in pain, trying to reach for the small of his back.] JS: What a counter! What a counter by Psicopa! TM: It was only from the second rope but the impact was felt. For the first time Derek Irvin is really hurting. JJ: I told you guys he had moves in him and the superbomb of all things. Derek Irvin has used it on him as a counter in the past, as has Kristoff St. Livingstone and now finally Psicopa uses it to his advantage, taking over this match. TM: We'll see about that. [Ignoring a pin, Psicopa heads back up, pulling his leg behind him to protect it.] JS: Again! He's going for a top rope move again. JJ: It's his thing. It's what he does better then anyone else in the world... [Cameras flash.] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP!" [Going off like mad as he twists through the air and onto Irvin.] JJ: SKYTWIZZLER PRESS! JS: Now we got a ... no! That hurt his knee. JJ: And hurt his chances of ending it here and now. He needed to make a cover immediately after. If he did there was no chance of DDI kicking out. No chance. TM: I wouldn't count him out that easy. JJ: Here it is! Psicopa crawls on top for a cover! ONE! TWO! THR--NOOOOO! TM: Too little too late! [The crowd deflates, on their feet for the entire sequence.] JJ: Psicopa isn't done guys. I keep telling you he has more! JS: He's picking up Irvin. Now it's time to show it. JJ: He is scooping him up for... Irvin kicks the leg! [And Psicopa let's go of Irvin. DDI stumbles away but turns back and after him, Psicopa stopping him with a kick to the gut, underhooking both arms!] JJ: HE HAS HIM... [And lifting he drops backwards...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [BIG POP!] JJ: SUGAR RUSH! JS: He's rolling back up and holding on! [And changes hand positioning, reaching around and lifting Irvin upside down, facing away...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [Sitting out and driving him down to a THUNDEROUS POP!] JJ: AND THE JOLT DROP! TM: If that doesn't do it, nothing will! [Confident, Psicopa goes for the press...] ONE! TWO! THREE-- [The crowd ERUPTS... in shock as Irvin kicks out!] JJ: MY DEAR GOD! WHAT IS IT GOING TO TAKE TO WIN THIS?! JS: The best effort of your life. JJ: I'd say this might be it right now and here at J*STAR. These two have battled before but this transcends all that. TM: This has gotten downright personal. JJ: It's not even over hate. It's over who's the best, pure and simple. [Limping back up, Psicopa heads to the corner. He steps through the ropes, measuring distance before starting to climb.] JJ: AGAIN Psicopa looking for one of his potent top rope weapons, maybe another Freefall! [But as he gets near the top he slips, legs flying out from under him as he collapses to the apron, immediately going to his leg.] TM: Iwas going to mock him for being a clumsy idiot and hanging around with a monkey yet still not knowing how to climb but this is serious. It was his knee giving that made him fall. JS: And it's his knee that might cost him this. JJ: He's back up! He's climbing again. TM: Irvin's up too! [And charges in as fast as his pain ravaged body will let him, climbing up and stopping Psicopa, hooking his head once again.] JJ: He has him... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [SICK BUMP POP!] TM: AVALANCHE BRAINBUSTER! THERE IT IS, FINALLY! JS: He's tried for it for a while. JJ: Because he knew it could end the match! Psicopa's leg might be destroyed but that doesn't matter. He may just be knocked out as we speak. JS: Derek Irvin makes the cover! This one is over! ONE! TWO! THREE-- [That'd be the crowd ERUPTING as one of Psicopa's arms shoot upwards, shoulder coming off the canvas!] JJ: THAT IS THE CLOSEST TO A THREE COUNT I HAVE EVER SEEN! THE REFEREE'S HAND WAS LITERALLY A HAIR WIDTH FROM THE MAT WHEN PSICOPA KICKED OUT! [Angry beyond all estimation, Irvin pushes the referee down, yelling at him. Psicopa remains on the mat... so Irvin goes after him.] JS: SHARPSHOOTER! [PROTEST POP!] TM: This is it! Done! This is over! [The fight in Psicopa is small, but it's there as he tries to reach out for the ropes, Irvin sitting down in the hold.] JJ: He can barely have any fight in him after that avalanche brainbuster. Irvin has it. He has it right here and all it's going to take is for Psicopa to hit the mat and submit. JS: I hate to say it, but maybe he should. He has a career to worry about and fighting through this can't help! [Crawling he tugs on the canvas, gripping it with the ends of his fingers, trying to get any foothold he can. Irvin wrenches back, the referee right in Psicopa's face as the fight picks up, Psicopa crawling over the referee just to get to the ropes.] TM: He's going to submit! He has to! JJ: He is refusing! He just won't give up this time, not with the match on the line. JS: His match... his pride... [Arms flailing, Psicopa struggles... and fights... and screams... and puts in inhuman effort to get at the ropes, almost pulling Irvin behind him.] JJ: This crowd here at the Staples Center is getting behind him! Listen to these fans. [The thuundering chorus of cheers and support starts changing to a standard rhythm, gaining in volume.] "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" "PLEASE DON'T TAP!" JJ: LISTEN TO THEM! JS: I don't think Psicopa wants to let them down! [Tears welling in his eyes Psicoap keeps fighting, reaching out with one hand, another tearing at his mask as the pain overcomes him. Irvin wrenches back even farther, sweat pouring off him from the effort.] TM: This is pretty stunning. The things men will do for this sport., JJ: Psicopa... just give it up my friend. Please. My god man, it's not worth it. [Tears fill his eyes, the excruiating torture coursing through him. He starts to weaken, head falling to the mat and into an arm. The other arm starts to hang limp. The referee falls into concern, looking close at him.] JJ: He's out! The pain knocked him right out. JS: If his hands drop three times... [The referee lifts it and easily it falls, hitting the mat.] JJ: That's one. [The fans sense his trouble and get into it...] PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! JS: They're cheering him on! [And a second time it falls.] TM: It doesn't matter. It's over. PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! [The referee grabs the hand again, lifting it up and letting go. The hands falls straight down... PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! ...and at the very, VERY last second it stops, shaking in one place! HUUUUUUGE POP!] JJ: HE LIVES! JS: How can he be in this still!? HOW!? PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! PSI-CO-PAH! JJ: He is going to make the ropes! LOOK AT HIM! HE IS GOING TO GET THEM! [Crawling and crawling he reaches out, fingertips extended as far as humanly possible. Irvin wrenches... Psicopa reaches... ...hands falling just short! NOOOOOOO!] TM: Irvin is going to pull him away and end this! [But then suddenly... ...Psicopa gets the ropes! GIGANTOPOP!] JJ: HE BREAKS THE SHARPSHOOTER! TM: After several agonizing, career ending minutes! JS: And look at Irvin. He doesn't even know what to think. He is as beside himself as we are right now. TM: But look at Psicopa. He can obviously barely stand, if he can at all. Derek Irvin needs to pick him up and drop him on his head a dozen times. THAT will end the match, I promise. JJ: He IS picking him up... torture rack... HE IS GOING FOR THE KILLSHOT-- [But at the last second a flailing Psicopa swings his legs out wide, arms wrapped around Irvin's neck, driving him down backwards...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HOLY MOLY POP!] JJ: A FENDER BENDER OUT OF NOWHERE!! JS: But will it be enough?! Will it be enough to win this now, with the condition he is in? TM: Not a chance. I hate to say it, but not a chance. [Irvin rolls over, pushing himself up. Psicopa somehow does the same, leaping and catching Irvin again!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JS: ANOTHER FENDER BENDER! JJ: That might be all he needed! The match is THAT close! [Without hooking a leg, Psicvopa leans back on Irvin.] ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT AND BOO!] TM: It wasn't enough and all because he didn't cover DDI properly. You'd think after wrestling Irvin all these times he would have learned how to do a proper pinfall. [Getting up, Psicopa lifts a single finger in the air. Hopping on one leg he waits for Irvin to get up...] JJ: IRVIN DUCKED! JS: And Psicopa landed hard! TM: Everyhthing will hurt now. JJ: Kick by Irvin... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...TIGER BOMB! JS: Tiger DRIVER! TM: Ahem. BILLION...DOLLAR...BOMB! [MAJOR DISAPPOINTMENT POP!] JJ: THE COVER! ONE! TWO! [BIG POP!!!] JJ: KICKOUT BY PSICOPA! JS: I am almost not surprised. Almost. TM: Don't get sloppy, Derek. Just win this if you want to win. [Grabbing Psicopa, Irvin goes behind, grabbing the arms and twisting around so that Psicopa is bent over forward behind him. Getting a running start DDI heads towards the turnbuckles and up...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [WORKRATE POP!] TM: WHAT WAS THAT?! JJ: THAT WAS A TORNADO TOMIKAZE! JS: I call that one helluva finisher! JJ: He hooks a leg! [The crowd is on their feet, sensing the end of their hero...] ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [MONSTER POP!] JJ: He survived a sharpshooter again. He kicked out of a tiger bomb and now that! Nothing can stop Psicopa! Nothing short of death! TM: Or the right strategy. [Getting up, DDI yells out a pair of words (or maybe just one word) not heard in some time. "GOB-SMACKER!"] JJ: The Gobsmacker?! He hasn't used that move in ages! If he hits this... JS: Very few people have survived it and kicked out in good condition let alone the condition Psicopa is in now. [As if for a suplex, Irvin lifts up Psicopa, spinning him a full 180 at the peak of the lift... "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! ...dropping him down for a stunner!] JJ: THE GOBSMACKER AND THAT ENDED IT! TM: I think he shot fifteen feet into the air off that. ONE! TWO! [HUUUUUUUUUGE POP!] JJ: ANOTHER, _ANOTHER_ KICKOUT BY PSICOPA!!! JS: Will this EVER end?! TM: This match went from back and forth wrestling and quick action to Derek Irvin displaying some wonderful technical skills to this... huge move after huge move spotfest. I like it. JJ: I don't think Derek Irvin can believe what it's taking to win this. He's destroyed Psicopa's leg but that won't even stop him now. JS: Nor will dropping him on his head. TM: It might. Just do it... a lot. [Grabbing Psicopa, Irvin once again lifts him to the top rope. Slapping him HARD he backs off, climbing up after him.] JJ: DDI is climbing up... I... no. No way. He's going to go for the Killshot from the top?! He wants to hit that torture rack lift into a piledriver that he uses now to win this and finish this?! TM: _THAT_ will do it, especially from the top rope! JS: He's trying to get Psicopa up onto his shoulders but Psicopa has something left in him. JJ: Even if not much it's enough to keep him fighting. If he has anything left he will. [Fighting with wild punches and shaking his body, Psicopa somehow manages to push Irvin to the ring and land on the top rope, laying across the turnbuckle. Irvin comes in to get him, Psicopa lashing out with a kick to stun him for the time being.] JS: Psicopa is standing up! JJ: Irvin stunned, turning... [And Psicopa leaps, flipping forwards and landing on his shoulders.] JS: DRAGONRANA! JJ: BLOCKED! [Seeing it coming, Irvin catches Psicopa, pushing him up into the air and snaring him on the way down... ...throwing him into the turnbuckles!!] JJ: A URANAGE LIKE MOVE INTO THE TURNBUCKLES!! JS: DID YOU SEE HIS HEAD SNAP!? TM: Derek Irvin is steps ahead of Psicopa. The masked freak won't be able to catch up now. Not at this pace. JJ: Derek Irvin lifting him back onto the top. He REALLY wants to hit that Killshot from up here. TM: It's a guaranteed win. I can see why he would want to. [Irvin begins to climb up again but AGAIN Psicopa fights back... pushing him off!] JJ: This is a repeat from a few minutes ago! Psicopa standing up... slowly. You can tell that leg is a mess. JS: But Irvin's getting back up! He's to his feet... [GASP!] JJ: SUPERKICK TO PSICOPA'S LEG! TM: His bad leg that was giving him troubles standing up and his bad leg that just sent him down! [Grabbing Psicopa right off the top rope, Irvin lifts him onto his shoulders and moves to the middle of the ring. A sick sneer crosses his face. Evil. Mean.] JS: It's over! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [GIANT DEFLATION/HEAD SPIKE POP!] JJ: KILLSHOT! [Irvin goes down for the pin... but instead picks up Psicopa, waving his finger! HEEL POP!] TM: GENIUS! He isn't about to let Psicopa kick out and we all know he damn well might of. He wants to win this straight out without any doubts whatsoever. JJ: He's lifting Psicopa back up onto his shoulders in that torture rack... [And backfirst to the turnbuckles steps up to the bottom... then to the second.] JS: He'll end more then this match if he does it from there. [Smiling he starts climbing up... to the top. He begins to waver, trying to catch his balance. He does... and lifts Psicopa's feet.] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!!!!!!!!" [GIGANTIC F'N DEAFENING POP!] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! JJ: KILLSHOT... DANGEERRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS!! [The entire, ENTIRE crowd is on their feet going crazy. Irvin crawls over and all he can do is drape an arm across Psicopa.] TM: DONE! ONE! TWO! THREE! DING DING DING! [HUGE MIXED POP!] KG: YOUR WINNER... "DEADLY" DEREK IRRRRRRRRRVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! JJ: WHAT A MATCH! WHAT A MATCH TO BE PROUD OF! OUR BOYS DONE US PROUD! JS: You SHOULD be proud of that match! Derek Irvin may have been announced the winner but the real winners here were the fans watching! TM: And after watching that war, there's only one thing left to say. JS: What's that? TM: God, I hate NEO. JS: Hehehe. JJ: Todd Michaelson, you're an arrogant, egomaniacal jackass. [Pause.] JJ: And we wouldn't have you any other way. Thanks for letting us be a part of the show. [Michaelson chuckles.] TM: No, Johnny. Thank you. And thank Psicopa. And thank Derek Irvin. You guys put on a hell of a show. Congrats to NEO Pro... and with that, we wish Johnny a good night. JJ: See you, fans! [The NEO Pro announcer leaves his seat as Irvin leaves the ring, Psicopa being helped down the aisle soon thereafter.] JS: Well, fans... we've got two matches left. Two huge matches. TM: It's going to take a lot to top what we just witnessed, Steggs. JS: Indeed it will. Think they're up for it? TM: Joe Petrow coming out of retirement to take on Brody Thunder trying to fight off retirement? I have a feeling it might be okay, Steggs... it just might. JS: Hehe. Fans, let's go up to Ken! KG: The following contest will be contested under OUTLAW RULES! [Massive pop!] KG: There will be NO countouts... NO disqualifcations... and NO time limit. In this match, the only way to achieve victory is to render your opponent unable to answer the refere's ten count following a pinfall or submission! [More cheers for what promises to be an out and out war.] KG: And now... he is our special GUEST REFEREE for this contest... [The crowd begins to buzz with surprise.] JS: Huh? There was no guest referee announced for this match. TM: We decided that for something like this... we might need a little extra toughness in our ref. JS: Who is it? TM: You're about to find out. [Graham pauses... and "Black Cat" by Janet Jackson starts up to a big mixed pop from the J*STAR crowd.] JS: Oh no. TM: 'Fraid so. [Graham continues.] KG: He is a former IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... DAAAAAAAAAAAN KAUFFMANNNNNNNN!!! [Kauffman bursts through the curtain in a pair of black slacks and a striped t-shirt. Yep, he looks like a referee. He jogs down the ramp to a very mixed pop. Cheers from a lot... but boos from those who remember his final stint with the E before its' doors closed.] JS: Dan Kauffman is our special referee! Well, I guess he will be a little tougher to knock down than your usual official. TM: That's the hope. I just hope he can keep his Boy Scout tendencies under wraps. JS: Indeed. [Kauffman steps through the ropes into the ring, raising an arm to the J*STAR crowd as Graham continues.] KG: Introducing first... [As Joe Petrow is about to be introduced, the arena lights begin to dim as the lengthy instrumental strains of the beginning of U2's "Joshua Tree" album grow louder. After about 10 seconds, the arena is in darkness (with a pack of Sychopaths in the crowd holding up lighters to spell out "SYCHO3YS"), the music is at full volume, and the large video screen has been activated with the following message: A BRIEF HISTORY OF JOE PETROW What follows is a one minute rapid fire volley of 10 date labeled, sepia-toned highlights (and lowlights) of Joe Petrow's career: [April 11, 1994] "Heartbreak Kid" Joe Petrow monkey-flips "Hot Stuff" Chris Taylor into the top turnbuckle and cradles him on the rebound, with feet on the ropes, to win the RSPCW World Heavyweight Title. [July 15, 1994] 400 pounder NUKE whips Petrow into the steel ringpost face first with such force that he suffers a broken orbital bone and detached retina, forcing his retirement. [December 30, 1994] After recovering from his injuries, Petrow celebrates in the ring after regaining the RSPCW World Heavyweight Title [March 4, 1996] Against arch-rival Chris Taylor, Petrow busts out the "Bullet Train '96" (forward falling Fisherman's Buster), breaking Taylor's neck, prompting even Petrow to say that the move was too dangerous to ever use again [Halloween, 1996] The death of "Heartbreak Kid" and the birth of "Sychosys" in the Triple Cage in a rapid three segment shot: Taylor throws fire at Petrow's face, scarring his handsome face for life Taylor choking the limp body of Petrow in unconsciousness Brian Knight attacking the unconscious Joe Petrow on a stretcher with a baseball bat [March 22, 1997] "Sychosys" Joe Petrow moonsaults with a table to the prone "Dirt Dog" Unique Allah lying on a table outside the ring at IIWF Ring Wars 3. [September 20, 1997] "The Masked Outlaw" lays out Joe Petrow as Genesis watches from the aisle, ending his quest for the IIWF World title. [January 17, 1998] Joe Petrow has Chris Quigley wrapped around the ringpost in what's described as "a kind of torture rarely seen outside of prison camps" before Chris Quigley's first ever submission loss. [August 1, 1998] Joe Petrow dumps Chris Quigley through a table outside the ring, cutting to the scene where Joe Petrow hoists the IIWF Forever Title belt over his head. [May 16, 1999] The "death" of Joe Petrow in a rapid three segment shot: Petrow plunging headfirst from the top turnbuckle to the arena floor Petrow rising from the floor, quoted as having "the look of death" in his eyes Petrow's sudden collapse minutes later in the ring Finally, as the instramental is finally about to give way, one last message against a black background takes up the entire screen: [September 3rdth, 2004] And a HUGE E X P L O T I O N ! ] "I want to run I want to hide I want to tear down these walls that hold me inside. I want to reach out, and touch the flame, where the streets have no name..." ["Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2 plays as Petrow is introduced ] KG: He hails from Hell and Back, weighing in at 238 pounds... he is the reigning, eternal IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... "Sychosys" JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE PETROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!! [A path to the ring lights up in flames as Joe Petrow walks down the middle. A somewhat older vision of insanity, his receding hairline in disguised by an all around short crew cut and week's worth of growth of a beard. He wears black trunks, black boots, and a black t-shirt with the slogan "Joe Petrow. Forever." on the front, and a large picture of a grave with the words "Thunder in Paradise" on the tombstone on the back. And an old, fraying, six year old IIWF World Championship belt over his right shoulder, as he stalks to the ring without acknowledging anybody.] KG: And his opponent... [The lights drop down once more as the theme to "High Plains Drifter" kicks in over the PA to a massive explosion of cheers from the J*STAR Festival crowd.]æ KG: He stands 6'2 and weighs in tonight at 267 pounds... from the Town Too Tough To Die, Tombstone, Arizona... risking his wrestling career in this ring here tonight... He is the Lone Wolf... BROOOOOOOOOOOOODYYYYYYYYYYYYY THUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDERRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! [A near-deafening ovation erupts for the former IIWF World Champion who steps through the entrance curtain into an electrified Staples Center atmosphere. Thunder pauses for a moment, letting his appearance sink in to the fans and to his opponent. He's dressed in his usual jeans and cowboy boots... this time with metal spurs hanging from the heel of one. His arms are taped to mid-forearm with a pair of black elbowpads in place as well as kneepads. A white t-shirt completes the ensemble... plain... simple... and with an SJPW logo splashed across it. Thunder walks quickly down the ramp, eyes locked on the man who has made his life a living hell for the past month. A hangman's noose that hung around his neck as he entered the building is quickly removed as his pace increases. The crowd grows louder as he walks faster... and soon, the rope is tossed aside and Thunder is sprinting down the elevated rampway towards the squared circle where his opponent awaits him. Thunder storms down the rampway, Petrow balling his fists as he prepares for the fight to come. The Lone Wolf steps through the ropes and Dan Kauffman quickly calls for the bell to start the match as Thunder lunges towards his rival.] JS: Here we go! Here we go! Here we go! [Petrow seems to be caught offguard by Thunder's quick assault, unable to defend himself from the barrage of rights and lefts that catch him all over the upper body and head, knocking him back towards the ropes.] TM: Petrow didn't see it coming! Thunder's going for the early KO! What a moment that would be! I'd replay it over and over until the day I did. JS: You really dislike him, don't you? TM: Too nice a word, Steggs... too nice a word. [The IIWF Forever Champion tries to cover up his head as Thunder continues to rain down punches all over him, out for blood and vengeance on the man who has made his life hell as of late.] JS: Petrow's trying to- [POP!] JS: CHOKE! THUNDER'S CHOKING HIM!!! [The crowd roars as the Lone Wolf wraps his hands around the throat of his rival, attempting to strangle the air out of him. Referee Dan Kauffman merely stands back, allowing the attack.] JS: There's no DQ! So, Dan Kauffman will just stand there and watch. TM: Thank god for that. I was a little worried Kauffman might try to assert his morality on us. This is Outlaw Rules, Dan. Stand there and behave yourself. JS: And neither of us were on the best terms with Dan Kauffman the last time we saw him either... so pardon us if we show a little bit of venom for the referee in this match. TM: Yeah, I wouldn't mind too much if Brody spun on his heels and cracked Kauffman one too. JS: Indeed. [Thunder's face is filled with rage, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on Petrow's throat. The latter has his hands around Thunder's wrists, trying to free himself.] JS: We might see this match end right now, Todd! I don't know if Petrow can get free! [But suddenly, the Lone Wolf breaks the hold on his own, grabbing Petrow's wrist to fire him across the ring.] JS: Irish whip! Petrow off the far side... backdro- no! Leapfrog by Petrow! [And as the two men turn to face one another, Thunder uncorks a wild right hand that gets snatched out of the air by Petrow who turns his back and pulls on the Lone Wolf's arm, throwing him over his shoulder and down to the mat! Big shocked pop!] JS: Whoa! Where'd that come from?! TM: There've been some rumors that Joe Petrow has become quite the judo freak in his days in exile since his "death". I think those rumors are proving to be true, Steggs. JS: Thunder definitely didn't see it coming but he gets quickly back to his feet nonetheless. Charges! [With reckless abandon, the Lone Wolf stampedes towards his foe yet again but this time, Petrow manages to hook Thunder's SJPW shirt with both hands, dropping back in a one legged monkey flip known in judo circles as a seoinage!] JS: What the hell was that?! Some kind of monkey flip?! TM: More judo from the Sycho One... and Brody Thunder's gotta be wondering what the hell he got himself into right now. He definitely didn't expect this. He wanted a brawl... a wrestling match at worst... but right now he's in a martial arts battle and that's something that even Brody Thunder's not ready for. [But Thunder shows no fear, springing back to his feet and charging in again... ...and again getting taken off his feet with an overhead throw that seems to knock the wind out of the Lone Wolf as he hits the canvas allowing Petrow to easily flip him to his stomach, sliding into a rear mount.] JS: What the-?! TM: Rear naked choke! He's going for the early knockout! JS: Thunder's clawing at the mat... he doesn't know how to get out of something like this. It's almost like he's stumbled into a match with Tiger Claw instead of the nutcase who battled Kowalski and Allah in insane brawls! [Petrow holds the choke for a bit, weakening his opponent before slipping off, cradling the head and neck with one arm while tightly cradling the near leg with the other.] TM: This is called a shiho gatame! JS: Thunder's shoulders are down! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! [DING DING DING] JS: And now Thunder has to make it back to his feet before a ten count. [Petrow peels off, backing to the far corner... and getting a cocky smirk on his face as the Lone Wolf climbs back up to a standing position, shaking his arm.] JS: Well, Brody had no trouble breaking the ten count, did he? TM: Look at that grin on Petrow's face. What a jackass. JS: Brody Thunder's back to his feet... there'll be no ten count this time. Joe Petrow's judo may have knocked him off his feet and kept him offguard but it wasn't anywhere near enough to keep him down for a ten count. Petrow will have to do more than that to win this match. TM: And as much as I hate to admit it... he's likely to do a lot more, Steggs. [Thunder leans in the corner, glaring at Petrow whose grin is glued to his face.] TM: Joe Petrow's crazier than I thought, Steggs. He's already got Brody Thunder as pissed off... if not more... than I've ever seen him in all the years I've known him. And now? Now, he's trying to rub it in. JS: Thunder's making sure his arm isn't injured from those throws... and he's also gotta be regrouping. Probably wondering what he needs to do... how he needs to change his gameplan with this newfound judo attack from the IIWF Forever Champion. [Petrow extends his hands towards the Lone Wolf, waving for him to come and get him... ...and Thunder happily does, sprinting across the ring.] JS: Here he comes again! [The Lone Wolf rears back and swings with a wild right hand... one that Joe Petrow is prepared to catch again.] JS: SEOINA- [But before he can be thrown overhead, Thunder buries his left hand into the kidneys of Petrow, stunning his opponent. Grabbing Petrow by the hair, Thunder drives a knee up into the same area, blocking any attempt at the judo throw.] JS: Another knee to the kidneys! Brody's trying to bring this back down to a wrestling match... to something he knows. TM: A series of knees to the kidneys by Thunder has Petrow barely able to stand on his own. Now a jab to the ribs by the big brawler from Arizona! [With Petrow hurting, Thunder grabs a handful of his hair... ...and _hurls_ him over the ropes and down to the concrete floor! Huge pop!] JS: OHHHHH! TM: All the way over the top and down to the floor below! And that didn't take too long, Steggs. We're just moments into this match and we're already outside the ring. This is going to be a fight, Steggs... it's going to be a fight. JS: Probably not too many headlocks or wristlocks in this one. TM: Probably not. [The Lone Wolf drops down to the mat, rolling under the bottom rope and out to the floor.] JS: Thunder's going out there after him. The battle's spilling out to the floor right here by us... hopefully they'll stay away from our table, Todd. TM: If not, I might have to crack Petrow one.... or two. JS: Take it easy, Todd. We don't want any trouble out here. [Thunder tugs his elbowpad in place as Petrow uses the guardrail to pull himself up to his feet.] JS: THUNDER! [The stampeding brawler connects with a running clothesline that sends both men toppling over the railing and into the crowd! Massive pop!] JS: They're in the crowd! Right out in the front row! TM: This is breaking down, Steggs. Dan Kauffman staying in the ring... there'll be no countout here... no disqualification. Thunder and Petrow are in the crowd and thank god, the referee doesn't... or can't... give a damn. JS: These fans are going crazy, Todd. The J*STAR Festival is delivering a match that wrestling fans all around the world have been dying to see for years. From Portland to Japan, this match is a dream match for wrestling fans. TM: And these fans in the front row are going nuts. This action is right there in their faces and they love it. JS: Thunder's pushing himself off the floor, leaning over Petrow. [The Lone Wolf fires a right hand into the skull of his rival... and again... and again.] JS: The Lone Wolf's beating the hell out of Petrow out on the floor! Really taking it to him. TM: Payback's a bitch, Steggs. This guy's been pushing and pushing at Brody Thunder for the past month and now Thunder's making him pay for it. JS: Brody's pounding the hell out of him! Look at his eyes, Todd... the fire in his eyes. Rage is just pouring out of him and onto Joe Petrow! [Switching his attack, Thunder grabs Petrow by the head and _slams_ the back of his head into the floor... and again... and again... and again... and again... and again.] JS: Good lord! TM: You could crack a skull slamming it into the concrete like that, Steggs... especially doing it that many times. Thunder's trying to split Petrow's head like a melon. JS: Oh no. TM: Not this time, Steggs. It's IIWF hour. Biscuits. Soundbites. Word. JS: Thank god. [With Petrow down and hurting, Thunder gets back to his feet and snatches a nearby vacant steel chair.] TM: CHAIR! JS: Oh man. This is about to get ugly. Joe Petrow may be in for one hell of a rough night, Todd. TM: I hope Petrow came prepared for a fight because Brody Thunder's bringing it to him bigtime. [Folding up the chair, Thunder slaps it down against rhe floor and rears back.] JS: He's gonna crown Joe Petrow! He's gonna crown the IIWF Forever Champi- [But as Thunder prepares to violently swing the chair down, Petrow dips into his tights and a cloud of white powder fills the air as it's flung into the face of the Lone Wolf.] JS: Powder to the eyes! TM: The fans didn't like it but you can bet Joe Petrow will stop at nothing to win this match... absolutely nothing. Hell, I'd bet Thunder will stop at nothing as well. Both of these guys aren't strangers to breaking the rules and if they need to do it tonight, they definitely will. JS: Thunder's blinded, staggering away from Petrow. He dropped the chair back on the floor and Petrow's getting a chance to recover. [The Sychopaths on hand go crazy as the steel chair is lifted in the air by Petrow.] JS: And now Joe Petrow's got the chair... he winds up... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [A huge chairshot across the back of the Lone Wolf sends him toppling over the railing and back into the ringside area.] JS: What a shot that was! Right across the back! TM: Thunder went down like he'd been shot, Steggs. Getting a hard chairshot across the back is not a good way to get your offense on track. JS: Petrow reaches over the railing... and he's pulling Thunder by the beard! Ow! That's gotta hurt! TM: You have no reaction to a chairshot but getting your beard pulled is painful? JS: Erm. [Pulling Thunder up to his feet, Petrow slaps on a front facelock, pushing Thunder's throat down on the steel barricade.] JS: Choke! He's choking the Lone Wolf on the railing! Trying to wear down the big brawler from Arizona a little more. Thunder's gasping for air, trying to fight free. [After a bit, Petrow breaks his grip... and drives a knee up into Thunder's face, knocking him back down to the concrete floor.] JS: Big shot by the IIWF Forever Champion... Thunder's down on the floor yet again. And Joe Petrow has adjusted quickly to not being able to use all his judo. This is a fight and he's damn ready for it, Todd. TM: Looks like it. I hate to admit it but this guy looks like he's ready for a war and he'd better be. Petrow climbs back over the rail. That brawl in the crowd was short-lived but I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of it. [Once in the ringside area, Petrow pulls Thunder off the floor by the arm... ...and promptly _fires_ him into the steel railing!] "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" JS: Backfirst to the steel! Joe Petrow is showing no mercy in this match... not that I expected him to. Thunder's leaning against the steel, arms draped over it. TM: And the Sychopath from Japan is looking to use that chair again. He's picked it up... now what's he doing? [Holding the chair in front of him, Petrow sprints towards the dazed Lone Wolf... ...who promptly raises his boot.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: THUNDER KICKS THE CHAIR INTO PETROW'S FACE!! OHHH MY!!! [The impact levels Petrow, slightly denting the chair that falls to the wayside as he collapses to the floor. Seizing the opportunity, Thunder pulls Petrow off the floor, rolling him back into the ring.] JS: Thunder back in as well... cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! [But the Sychoctic one lifts his shoulder up off the mat, breaking the pin attempt.] JS: Not enough. There was a lot of impact with Thunder kicking that chair into Petrow's face... but not enough to keep Joe down for a three count. TM: Petrow's a tough son of a bitch, Steggs. We all remember his wars with Dirt Dog Unique Allah... that insane Seven Tables Of Fear match at Ring Wars 3 that every promotion since has tried to duplicate. JS: To little success at that. TM: I'd have to agree with that. And we also remember that incredible submission match with Chris Quigley... the wars with Steve Kowalski. This man can wrestle... this man can fight... and this man can take a beating like few others can.æ [Getting back to his feet, Thunder drags Petrow off the mat by the hair, scooping him up... and slamming him down.] JS: Big scoop slam by the Lone Wolf! And so far, you've gotta believe the SJPW brass is happy with Thunder. TM: I'm sure they are. Having Brody Thunder on their roster is a huge PR boost to Super Japan Pro Wrestling as they try to rebuild their image for this incarnation of the promotion. So they know how important this match is to them. JS: That's right. Remember, fans... if Brody Thunder loses this match, he will _leave_ SJPW forever. That was a clause that Petrow wanted put in the contract. He wants to force Thunder into retirement. [With his opponent down, Thunder leaps into the air and drops the point of his elbow across the throat of Petrow.] JS: Big elbowdrop! Right on target! And another cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! [The fans boo a bit as Petrow lifts the shoulder off the mat again.] JS: Petrow avoids the pin again. TM: This is more Thunder trying to wear him down by making him kick out over and over than anything else, Steggs. We know he wants to hurt Petrow bad... so he wouldn't be going for these pins if he thought it was over. JS: Thunder back to his feet and- LEAPS! [And _drives_ his knee down across the throat of Petrow!] JS: Oh my! Thunder drops a knee across the throat... and he's kneeling there, choking the life out of Petrow! [The Japanese native kicks the mat in desperation, trying to push Thunder's shin off his windpipe.] JS: Petrow's gasping for air, trying to get free! Trying to- [Thunder grins as Petrow claws at his leg but that grin vanishes as Dan Kauffman steps in, asking Thunder to stand and let his opponent breathe.] TM: Get away from him, Kauffman. Your job is to count pins and call for the bell on a submission. Nothing else! JS: Dan Kauffman is the official for this match... and as a former fan favorite, he's not used to blatant rulebreaking like this. TM: Make sure everyone heard you call him a "former" fan favorite, Stegglet. After the last time we saw him in EMWC, he's no favorite of most of our old fans. JS: Indeed. [Climbing to his feet, the cowboy trades words with the guest referee.] JS: Brody's not too happy with Kauffman trying to tell him what to do. He's really letting him have it. TM: Kauffman shrugs his shoulders and tells him to stay focused on Petrow. It's good advice... even though it's coming from Dan Kauffman. JS: Thunder pulling Petrow up by the hai- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: PETROW GOES LOW! An uppercut to the nether regions of the Lone Wolf! TM: And that'll turn the tide in Petrow's favor. A desperate move by the Sychotic One... but an effective one. Thunder's crouched over in some fairly obvious pain. JS: We said that Petrow will do anything to win this, the rules be damned. And I think he just lent some credence to that statement. [Reaching up, Petrow grabs the front of Thunder's jeans and tugs downwards, using the leverage to pull Brody facefirst into the top turnbuckle!] JS: OHHH! Great leverage move by Petrow! TM: And something like that is a move you can only expect from a veteran of this game... a ring general. No rookie's going to uncork something like that, Steggs. JS: Things like that is why Joe Petrow's known as one of the legends of our industry.... why he _is_ the champion forever of one of the greatest promotions any of us will ever see. TM: Still seems weird to say it, doesn't it? JS: Indeed it does. But it's a different time... a different era. The Double Eye is gone. The E is gone. And tonight, we're here to pay tribute to both of those historic promotions. [With Thunder slumped chestfirst in the buckles, Petrow climbs up on the middle rope behind him, tugging his head back... ...and sinking his teeth into his rival's forehead.] JS: AHHHH! He's biting him, Todd! TM: Anything it takes. Those are the three words to remember about this match, Steggs. Anything it takes. JS: Ripping and tearing at the flesh of the Lone Wolf... trying to rip that skin off his forehead. [Petrow hops down from the midbuckle, pulling Thunder from the corner into a hangman's neckbreaker position... ...and snaps him down in the move!] JS: Hangman's neckbreaker! And a quick cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! [Pop!] JS: And now it's Joe Petrow who doesn't have enough to keep his opponent down for a three count. Now it's Joe Petrow who doesn't get to see how worn down his rival is. [Climbing back to his feet, Petrow yanks Thunder off the mat by the arm... and then hurls him over the ropes onto the wooden ramp leading to and from the ring!] JS: Out onto the ramp! Not a very far way to drop... but a very hard surface to fall on. That wooden ramp has no give. It has no cushion to absorb some of the pain on. TM: We've seen the ramp used quite a bit in the past two nights... but I have a feeling one of these guys could cripple someone on that ramp in the right situation. JS: Is this the right situation? TM: We may be about to find out, Steggs. Petrow's stepping through the ropes. He's going to join Thunder out there on the platform. JS: What the hell-?! Joe Petrow says he's gonna throw Thunder into the crowd! He's gonna throw him off the ramp! TM: That's a damn dangerous thing to do to someone, Steggs. You could easily break a leg... a hip... a back... who knows what else could get broken by flying off that damn ramp. It's about five feet or so off the ground... lots of chairs out here... lots of fans. This is a bad situation for everyone involved. JS: Petrow's pulling him up! He's gonna throw him off! [The Sychopaths in the area roar with delight as Petrow points in their direction, clearing a spot for Thunder to suffer a painful landing.] JS: He's waving fans aside... he's going to- [But somehow Thunder manages to slam on the brakes, blocking the throw.] JS: No! Brody won't go! He- elbow! Another! A third! Thunder driving elbows back to the ribs, trying to keep from being thrown off the damn ramp into the crowd! [The back elbows double over Petrow, allowing Thunder to slam a few more elbows into the back of Petrow's neck.] JS: Brody's fighting! He's fighting hard! TM: That warrior spirit shining through in the Lone Wolf. The kind of spirit that made him defeat Requiem to become the IIWF World Champion. The kind of spirit that let him battle Kowalski in a cell. The kind of spirit that let him betray the most dangerous group of wrestlers in this business' history... and live to tell about it. [Pulling Petrow's head back by the hair, Thunder cocks the arm... ...and _levels_ the IIWF Forever Champion with a brutal lariat! Huge pop!] JS: LARIAT! LARIAT! TM: And that might not have been Courtadian in impact but it was a hard shot and it put Joe Petrow down on the ramp! Brody Thunder scores with a lariat and both men are down on the ramp. Dan Kauffman's inside the ring, asking them to get back in... but nothing more. JS: Kauffman doing an excellent job of officiating this match so far. He hasn't intervened too much. He's stayed out of the way and made the count at the proper time. [Thunder pushes himself up to his feet, leaning over to pick up something he discarded earlier and then holding it high above his head. Massive pop!] JS: The rope! He's got the Hangman's Noose! TM: That can't be good news for Joe Petrow, Steggs. JS: What's he going to with it? [With Petrow kneeling on the wooden ramp, Thunder slips the noose over his rival's head... and pulls it tight!] JS: Oh my god! Oh dear god in heaven! Tell me he's not- [Turning his back so that he's pulling the rope over his own shoulder, Thunder pulls the rope snug, lifting Petrow off the ramp.] JS: HANGMAN! HANGMAN! TM: Petrow's in trouble! [The crowd roars as the IIWF Forever Champion frantically swings his arms and legs, desperately trying to free himself. His face turns red almost instantly, the air being ripped from his body.] JS: He's trying to hang Joe Petrow! He's trying to- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: Petrow swung his heel back into the groin of the Lone Wolf! And that'll definitely break the hangman, Todd. TM: It sure will. There's not many holds that a kick to the nuts _won't_ break, Stegglet. JS: I'm not sure I'd call that hangman a "hold" but I do agree. Brody Thunder... was that crossing the line, Todd? TM: When a man insults your wife... insults your kids... tries to take your livelihood away? There's no such thing as crossing the line. Joe Petrow deserves everything that happens to him tonight. JS: Thunder dropped his end of the rope... down on his knees now, really feeling the effects of that low blow. And that's the second time that Petrow's gone low on him tonight. TM: Anything it takes. JS: I know, I know. [Coughing violently, Petrow tugs the noose off his own throat, stretching the rope out between his hands... ...and using it to clothesline the kneeling Thunder, knocking him down to the wooden ramp again!] JS: Choke! He's using the rope to strangle Brody Thunder! TM: I guess turnabout is fair play, Steggs. JS: I suppose. The rope pressed down on the throat... Thunder kicking and clawing, trying to get out of this position. This is not a good place for the Lone Wolf to be in. [After a bit, Petrow rises, throwing the rope into the ring as he stomps and kicks Thunder who is trying to crawl back towards the squared circle.] JS: Looks like Thunder's had enough of the ramp for a bit... but Petrow's really kicking him hard, trying to prevent him from getting back into the ring. TM: Or maybe he just wants to control the match on his own terms. JS: Perhaps. [Pulling Thunder off the wooden surface, Petrow hurls him back over the ropes into the ring.] JS: It looks like you were right. He puts Thunder back into the ring the hard way and now he's stepping back in as well. Thunder's down on the mat, trying to recover from that clothesline with the rope. TM: He'd better get up though cause there's no telling what Petrow's got in mind. JS: Oh no. Petrow's got the rope again! [Looping the noose around Thunder's throat, he pulls the cowboy off the mat... ...and throws him over the top rope, hanging onto the other end of the bullrope to strangle the Lone Wolf! Huge shocked pop!] JS: He's being hanged! It's a hanging in the middle of Los Angeles! [The camera zooms in on Thunder's feet, just inches off the concrete floor as he stretches out, trying to relieve the pressure on his windpipe.] JS: Thunder can't get his feet under him... look at his face... he can't get a breath into his body! He can't get a- [The crowd roars as Kauffman comes over to Petrow, warning him and screaming at his former Portland colleague.] TM: Dammit, Kauffman! Stay out of this! JS: My god, Todd... I know we said that but this is a man's life we're talking about! Joe Petrow is attempting a homicide in the middle of our ring! As the promoter, you've gotta be- TM: As the promoter, I'm concerned that Dan Kauffman do the job he's being paid to do and not get involved in this match. If Petrow wants to kill Brody Thunder in that ring tonight, it's none of Dan Kauffman's business! [Kauffman continues to scream at Petrow, demanding he release the rope... but before Petrow can, Thunder manages to get his feet on the ring apron, breaking the pressure on his throat as he coughs uncontrollably.] JS: Thunder escaped that hanging... but Petrow's moving right in again. Oh! Big right hand by Joe Petrow! And another! He's trying to punch Thunder off the apron so he can use that rope on him again. TM: No he's not. He's going for a suplex! [The rope still hanging between them, Petrow attempts to hoist Thunder off the apron and bring him into the ring the hard way... ...but the Lone Wolf blocks the lift by grabbing the ring ropes.] JS: He can't get Thunder up! Brody's blocking it and- [A couple more hard right hands to the head are thrown just before he hooks Thunder for the suplex again... ...and again comes up empty!] JS: He can't get him up, Todd! He can't get Brody Thunder into the air! TM: Thunder's fighting it. He wants to turn the momentum in this match in his favor. He wants to- JS: HE LIFTS!! [The crowd explodes as Thunder somehow hoists Petrow off the mat instead... ...and brings him crashing down to the concrete floor with a released suplex, Thunder still standing on the apron as Petrow hits the pavement! Huge pop!] JS: Ohhhh! What a move by Thunder! He blocked the suplex by Petrow and ultimately hit one of his own, taking Petrow all the way down to the concrete floor! A big counter by the Lone Wolf and- [Down on the concrete, the wily Petrow realizes he still has one thing going his way... and tugs on the rope still wrapped around his arm.] "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: My god! He yanked Thunder off the apron and into the steel railing! Brody Thunder slammed sternumfirst into the steel barricade that surrounds the ring! [Both men lie still on the cold concrete for a bit, chests heaving as they try to pull a second wind into their bodies.] JS: Both men are down. Dan Kauffman steps over to the ropes, looking down at them. But he's not counting, Todd. TM: I'm glad, Steggs. I was worried about Kauffman refereeing this match. JS: Joe Petrow is the first to show signs of life, rolling over to his stomach and working his arms under himself. [But as he does, Thunder pulls the noose from around his neck, revealing deep red ropeburns on his throat as he sits up on the floor, clutching his chest.] JS: Look at the ropeburns! Ugh, that's hideous. TM: Joe Petrow used Thunder's own weapon to great effectiveness... and now both men are struggling to get back to their feet. Thunder's wincing as he moves... that blow to the chest did some major damage. JS: He could have a cracked sternum, Todd. TM: He certainly could and that would almost certainly end this match. If Karate Kid 3 was good for anything, it was the lesson that if a man can't breathe... he can't fight. JS: Indeed. [Both men manages to push themselves to their feet at about the same time.] JS: They're on their feet and- oh! Big right hand by Thunder! And Petrow fires back! Another one by Thunder! TM: Oooh! A hard shot by Petrow! [The fans roar to life once more as the Lone Wolf and the Sychotic continue to trade haymakers out on the concrete floor.] JS: We've got ourselves a slugfest out there! And now we- [Petrow slips a knee up into the midsection of Thunder, cutting his offensive barrage short.] JS: Oh! Knee to the gut by Petrow... handful of hair... "CLAAAAAAAAAANG!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: TO THE POST! Thunder gets driven headfirst to the steel ringpost by Joe Petrow! [Thunder clings to the post, trying to stay on his feet as Petrow peels away, eyes wide and wild as he looks for his next move... ...and finds it, quickly walking towards the nearby ringpost.] JS: Where's he going? TM: Uh oh. [The crowd buzzes with worry as Petrow pulls the steel steps apart, lifting the larger part into the air and muscling it up over his head.] JS: He's got the steps! Joe Petrow's got the steel steps and- [He charges from post to post, sprinting towards the dazed Lone Wolf.] "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The crowd groans with agony as the steel steps impact with the skull of the SJPW competitor, sending him flailing backwards and crashing back down to the concrete.] JS: Dear god! The steel steps to the skull! TM: Could be a concussion waiting to happen. [With a yell of triumph, Petrow throws the steel steps aside and moves in on the downed Lone Wolf.] JS: Thunder went down like a rock and Joe Petrow's in complete control of him at this point. He should probably attempt a cover. After a shot to the head like that, Thunder might not be able to beat a ten count. TM: The fans are all over Petrow, screaming at him. He's not the most popular guy in the building tonight... but he's never given a damn about being popular, Steggs. JS: He certainly hasn't. Petrow leans over to pull Thunder up, rolling him ov- ohh! TM: Blood! Thunder's been busted open! [The fans gasp in unison as the camera zooms in on Thunder's forehead, split open from the blow with the steel steps, a steady flow of crimson now pouring down his forehead and starting to cover his face.] JS: Brody Thunder's forehead has been split open and the crimson is beginning to flow! Joe Petrow has drawn first blood in this battle... this war... and that could really put him in the driver's seat. TM: This is a psychological edge for Petrow... a big one. He just showed Brody Thunder that he's as tough as he is. He showed the brawler than he can tussle too. And he showed the man who is out for blood just what his _own_ blood looks like! [Petrow's eyes light up as he sees the crimson flowing, kneeling down over him... and battering him with a right hand to the forehead over and over again.] JS: Petrow's trying to deepen the cut... trying to punch that wound wide open and bleed out the Lone Wolf. Thunder's career in Super Japan Pro Wrestling is on the line and somewhere in this building, there are some very nervous suits. TM: Damn right. SJPW is seeing their biggest star battling for his very career with them... and if he loses, it's going to be a huge blow to them, that's for sure. JS: He finally stops punching the cut... Thunder's bleeding like a faucet. Where's Petrow going now? [Mixed pop!] JS: He's got that steel chair again! What's he-?! [The fans jeer wildly as Petrow opens the chair, placing the crossbar on the windpipe of Thunder... ...and sits down.] JS: Oh come on! TM: He's an evil son of a bitch, Steggs. How many people would do something like this? He's sitting on that chair, strangling Brody Thunder and grinning all the while. [Petrow leans over the chairback, yelling at Thunder.] "That's all you've got?!" [A hard slap punctuates the question, drawing more boos from the J*STAR Festival crowd.] "Come on, Lone Wolf! Where's that tough SOB at now?!" [Another hard slap across the face brings more jeers from the fans.] "Get up, boy! GET UP!" [One more slap cracks across Thunder's face, leaving a bright red welt as Petrow gets back to his feet, folding up the chair.] JS: That was just disrespectful, Todd. Total disrespect by Joe Petrow. TM: That's the kind of guy he is. He's never respected the other wrestlers... the fans... the suits... anyone. Joe Petrow has no respect for anyone but himself. JS: Petrow's still got the chair... Thunder pushes up to a knee... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [A sickening crack is heard as the already-dented chair comes crashing down across the skull of the Lone Wolf knocking him right back down to the floor before he ever reaches his feet.] JS: My god! What a vile chairshot by Petrow! Right to the skull of Brody Thunder. He hadn't even gotten back to his feet yet and got creamed by Petrow. [Tossing the chair aside, Petrow pulls Thunder off the floor, shoving him back into the ring.] JS: Rolls him back in... and Petrow's going up top! "Sychosys" Joe Petrow is getting ready to fly! [Petrow quickly scales the ropes, looking down on his rival... ...then leaps from the top rope, _Crashing_ down across the throat of the Lone Wolf with a legdrop! Huge mixed pop!] JS: Tokyo Jam! Right on target! ONE!!! TWO!!! TH- [Pop!] JS: No! Thunder slips the shoulder up! The Lone Wolf is still too strong to be held down by Petrow. Joe couldn't get the three count. [An irate Petrow pushes up to his knees... ..and promptly rips the SJPW t-shirt off of Thunder! Huge heel pop!] JS: Oh come on! What disrespect by Petrow! This is terrible, Todd. That's was a total lack of respect for SJPW by Petrow. How many times does he need to insult the integrity of SJPW?! TM: He ripped the t-shirt right off of Thunder and- oh! He's shoving it in Thunder's mouth! Trying to choke him with that damn shirt! What the hell is wrong with this guy?! [Petrow screams at Thunder wildly as he tries to shove the shirt down his throat.] JS: This is nuts, Todd. Petrow's lost his damn mind. TM: We all know he's crazy, Steggs. Two words. Tricycle moonsault. JS: Good point. And somewhere you know that Thunder's family is looking on. We heard earlier tonight that he forced them to stay away from the building. He feared for their safety so he wouldn't allow them to be in the arena tonight. TM: Smart move. Lord knows what Petrow would do if he saw them. JS: Indeed. [Leaning over, he pulls Thunder off the mat and shoves him back into the ropes, tying his arms up.] JS: Uh oh. He's got Thunder at his mercy. TM: Joe Petrow has no mercy, Steggs. If he can cripple Brody Thunder here tonight, he will. JS: He's got Thunder tied up in the ropes. Thankfully he left the chair out on the floor. [With Thunder helpless, Petrow races to the far ropes, rebounding back and leaping into the air.] JS: Oh! Knee to the head! I didn't see that one coming. TM: And Petrow's going for more and more shots to the head, presumably trying to knock Thunder out. That chairshot probably went a long way towards doing exactly that too, Steggs. JS: You may be right. Thunder looks pretty dazed. Kauffman stepping in, he's trying to check on Thund- oh! [The crowd roars as Petrow shoves Kauffman back into the corner, racing to the ropes again... and again scoring with a leaping knee to the skull of the Lone Wolf!] JS: Another one! Thunder's legs are limp. The ropes are the only thing holding him on his feet. If he wasn't tied in the ropes, I think he'd be near unconsciousness on the canvas. If he wasn't- Petrow to the ropes again! [But this time as he rebounds, Thunder somehow frees himself.] JS: LARIAT!!! [A huge pop erupts as Thunder scores with the mammoth clothesline that takes his rival down to the canvas. The cheers continue as both men lie on the canvas... the chants of "THUN-DER!" growing louder and louder as the fans try to rally him to his feet.] JS: Brody Thunder hit a big lariat out of nowhere... completely out of nowhere. And that's going to give him a chance to recover. It's going to give him a chance to- [Weary and barely able to move, Thunder throws an arm across the chest of his downed foe.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- [HUGE DISAPPOINTED POP!] JS: I thought he had him, Todd! I thought he had him! TM: He may have gotten the pin there... but that doesn't mean anything. It only means we get to see a ten count. JS: And? TM: And I don't think the lariat was enough to get the ten count. But it's a step in the right direction. [Pushing up to his knees, Thunder dips his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls it out.] JS: What's he got in his hand? TM: I- I can't tell. But it's definitely packed with something. It's definitely going to be- JS: Petrow's using the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. [As he gets there, he slowly turns, staggering towards the Lone Wolf... ...who uncorks a wild right hand!] JS: OHHHHHHHH! [The crowd _erupts_ as the right hand collides with the skull of Petrow, sending the IIWF Forever Champion down to the canvas in a heap.] JS: What the-?! What the hell did he hit him with?! TM: The end of the world? [Thunder opens his hand... and a sea of silver dollars come pouring out onto the canvas.] JS: He hit him with a roll of silver dollars?! TM: Hehehe. That was a million dollar punch. JS: Looks more like twenty to me. [Kauffman shakes his head in disbelief. The crowd roars its' approval as Thunder sheepishly shrugs his shoulders before dropping down in a lateral press.] JS: That's a cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!! [DING DING DING] JS: The twenty dollar punch turns out Joe Petrow's lights and Brody Thunder scores an easy three count. TM: But the question is... is it enough to keep him down for the ten count? If it is, Brody Thunder's your winner. JS: Kauffman backs Thunder into a neutral corner, making sure he doesn't interfere with the count... and here we go! [Referee Kauffman turns, confident that Thunder will stay out of it and begins his ten count.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" [And before the former IIWF World Champion can go any further with his ten count, the IIWF Forever Champion sits up, rubbing his jaw in pain as he pulls himself off the mat with his free hand.] JS: Petrow breaks the count and the match will continue! He's in the corner and- THUNDER! [The crowd roars once more as the Lone Wolf stampedes into the corner, battering Petrow in the buckles with lefts and rights. Petrow lifts his arms, trying to cover his head.] JS: Brody's doing a number on him! Beating the hell out of the man who insulted his wife... insulted his company... insulted his- TM: He's picking Petrow up... ohhh! He drops him groinfirst on the top turnbuckle! Thunder puts him up top... and he's climbing up there with him! JS: He's going for a superplex! Brody Thunder's trying to turn the tide in a big way here... he wants to put Petrow down and down hard. He's got him hooked... set... [But Petrow fights back, firing right hands into the ribs over and over.] JS: Petrow's fighting it! He knows he's in trouble if Thunder takes him down with the superplex! He knows that- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JS: OHHH! He shoved Thunder down off the ropes! [The Lone Wolf quickly regains his feet just as Petrow stands atop the buckles, hurling his body off.] JS: CROSS BOD- NO! BRODY ROLLS THROUGH IT!!! ONE!!!! TWO!!! THR- [Big mixed pop!] JS: Petrow gets the shoulder up! He avoids the three count. TM: Not that it matters. Brody Thunder might have pinned him there but there was no way we were getting a ten count off of that. The Lone Wolf needs to be smarter in this match, Steggs... he needs to realize that something like that is a waste of his energy. JS: Both men back up... oh! Right hand to the jaw by Petrow! [A hard uppercut by Thunder sends the Japanese native staggering backwards but not for long as he lunges back towards Thunder, blasting him with a clenched fist to the jaw.] JS: Kauffman stepping back and watching. Another shot by Thund- [But suddenly, the exchange of punches ends as Petrow winds up.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [The big chop across the chest leaves a red mark... but not as bright as the one Thunder leaves on his own chest as he slaps it at full force.] "Do it again, bitch!" [An angry Petrow winds up again.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [Thunder glares, again slapping his chest.] "WHAT ELSE YA GOT?!" [Petrow's eyes widen a bit... but he doesn't back down, rearing back yet again.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [Thunder screams out in triumph, not moving an inch. He beats his chest with both fists, waving for Petrow to keep it coming.] "More, motherfucker! Give me more!" [Petrow winds up again... ...and jabs his thumb into the eye of the Lone Wolf. Huge heel pop!] JS: Oh come on! What a cheap shot! TM: Anything it takes. JS: Brody Thunder would not give in. He would not back down from those chops. Joe Petrow was chopping him as hard as humanly possible and Brody Thunder stood and told him to keep 'em coming. TM: In so many words. JS: Err... yes. And then Joe Petrow ruins the showdown with a cheapshot. I can't believe it. How can any of these fans cheer for this guy? [The camera pans through the crowd, showing the Sychopaths in full force. Some wear Petrow t-shirts... others carry Petrow signs... some even have IIWF Forever replica title belts.] JS: Those people aren't playing with a full deck either, Todd. TM: No, no they're not. JS: Thunder's hurting now, trying to rub that eye so he can get some vision back out of it and- [And Petrow deadleaps into the air, snaring Thunder's head between his legs and snapping him down to the canvas with a rana!] JS: RANA! ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THR- [Thunder kicks his legs strongly, breaking Petrow's double leg cradle to a huge pop from the Staples Center crowd.] JS: Petrow rolls back to his feet... setting... everyone in the building can see what's coming! He's ready! [And as Thunder regains his feet, Petrow lashes out with a crescent kick.] JS: SYCHO KICK! [But he whiffs as Thunder ducks under the superkick attempt... ...and then _drives_ his body into Petrow, knocking him through the ropes so that both men tumble out to the concrete floor!] JS: Ohhh my! Thunder avoided the Sycho Kick that almost certainly would have given Petrow a three count... and very possibly could have gotten him the ten count. He avoided it and speared Petrow _through_ the ropes and out to the floor. TM: A great counter... but the only problem is, Thunder went out to the floor with him. Both men fell through the ropes to the concrete. Petrow hit harder though... I think he hit the floor harder. JS: Both men are down. These fans are roaring. This is a dream match for everyone in this industry and it is certainly living up to that billing so far in this one. These men have been battling for quite a while now and yet you get the feeling we may be nowhere near finished. [Thunder grabs the bottom rope, pulling himself back to his feet.] JS: The Lone Wolf is the first up... and now he's yanking Petrow up by the hair, looking to punish him some more. You've gotta believe that as much as Thunder wants to beat Joe Petrow... he wants to punish him almost as badly. The man insulted Thunder in so many ways... and most of all, he insulted Thunder's family. TM: Something you just don't do. JS: I suppose burning someone's wife is okay though, huh? TM: Don't go there, Stegglet. [With both men back to a vertical base, a bloody Brody Thunder slams Petrow facefirst to the ring apron.] JS: Facefirst to the apron! Thunder may be looking to bust open Petrow just as Petrow did to him. A lot of blood pouring down the forehead of Brody Thunder and you've gotta think he'd love to return the favor. [Petrow staggers back from the apron into Thunder's waiting arms as he hoists the Sychotic into the air... ...and drops him down on the back of his head and neck!] JS: Ohhhh! Belly to back on the concrete floor! The back of Petrow's head and neck just slammed into the unforgiving concrete... [HUGE POP!] JS: And Brody Thunder's got that chair again! That steel chair has seen a lot of action here tonight... some very noticeable dents on it. [Thunder slams the chair against the floor, screaming for Petrow to "get the fuck up!".] JS: Uhhh. TM: I think he wants Petrow to get up. JS: Agreed. Brody Thunder's got a violent temper. We knew this match would be a battle... we knew it'd be a fight... we even figured it'd be bloody. But I think part of me still doubted it would turn into an out and out war. But these two have held nothing back... _nothing_. TM: Not bad for a guy who has been retired for years and a guy who wrestles in Japan because he's "over the hill", huh? JS: Not bad at all. Petrow's trying to get back to his feet... trying to shake off the effects of that belly to back. [The IIWF Forever Champion pushes himself up to a knee.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The steel chair _blasts_ down over the skull of Petrow, knocking him down to the concrete floor in a heap! Huge pop!] JS: Just like Petrow did minutes ago! Payback's a bitch! TM: Jesus, Stegglet... look at that damn chair! [Thunder holds the badly dented chair high in the sky, drawing even more cheers from the Staples Center crowd.] JS: That chair is in ruins! It's dented... it's barely holding together... Thunder sets it on the apron and now he's rolling Petrow back into the ring. TM: This match is truly what Outlaw Rules is meant to be. There's been no holds... no attempts to hurt the other man's leg so they can't stand. This has been a fight. This has been two men trying to knock each other out so they can't get up before a ten count. I love it. JS: And who ever thought you'd say that about a match with Joe Petrow involved? TM: I think I'd enjoy Petrow vs Claw. JS: I bet you would. [With Petrow down on the canvas, Brody Thunder steps up on the ring apron, picking up the badly dented chair... ...and starts to climb the ropes with it. The crowd begins to buzz with crazed confusion and surprise.] JS: Is he... is he going up top?! TM: Does Brody Thunder even _know_ how to get to the top rope?! JS: What the hell is he thinking, Todd? What is he going to do? [The Lone Wolf staggers a bit, not used to being on the highest perch in the squared circle... but steadies himself, holding the chair in front of him.] JS: He's waiting for Petrow to get to his feet. Kauffman's warning him... telling him to get down. TM: Dammit, Kauffman... stop that shit! JS: He's just trying to do a good job, Todd. You can't blame him for that. TM: I can't? [The IIWF Forever champion slowly climbs to his feet off the mat, turning in a daze... ...as the Lone Wolf leaps from his place above the ring, looking to bring the chair down on Petrow's skull yet again.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: SYCHO KICK! SYCHO KICK! HE KICKED THE CHAIR INTO THUNDER'S FACE!!! [The impact of the superkick snaps Thunder's head back and Petrow collapses across his chest.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEE!!! [DING DING DING] JS: He got him! Petrow scored with the Sycho Kick, driving that steel chair back into the face of the Lone Wolf... and that three count on Thunder was just a formality. TM: Now the test begins. Did he get enough impact on that kick? Was it enough to keep Thunder down for a ten count? Was it enough for Petrow to win the match? And most importantly, was it enough to end Brody Thunder's SJPW career? JS: Kauffman's pushing Petrow back to the neutral corner and we're about to find out if it was enough. [The guest referee turns to the downed brawler and begins his count.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" [And before Kauffman can go any further, Thunder sits up, looping his arm over the middle rope and begins pulling himself back to his feet... ...but gets his knee taken out from under him by a dropkick to the kneecap by Petrow!] JS: Oh! Right back down goes Thunder but he did manage to break the count in time. [With his rival down, Petrow rolls out to the concrete floor and lifts up the ring apron, digging under it.] JS: Now what the hell is Petrow looking for? He's digging under the ring for something and- TM: He's having a lot of trouble with it whatever it is. It must be something large. He's trying to tug it out from under the ring and- oh my god. JS: What the hell is that?! [The crowd explodes in a mixed pop as Petrow pulls a piece of metal barricade into view!] JS: That's a section of that metal railing they're using further up the aisle to keep the fans at bay. That metal barricade... I guess the ring crew had a spare or two... [Pop!] JS: And Petrow's putting it in the ring! TM: And he's not the first IIWF World Champion we've seen use a metal barricade in a match, Steggs. JS: Shades of Steve Kowalski vs Curtis Hansen in a match that seems so, so long ago now. The first and only time the IIWF and EMWC World Champions met in the ring. TM: And the only match to pop a buyrate on free TV. JS: Considering the situation, I guess I should say... Shoot Soundbite Shoot? TM: Amen. JS: Petrow rolls back into the ring... oh! A hard kick to the side of Thunder's head... and a couple of stomps to the ear. Petrow wants to make sure Thunder stays down while he sets up that railing for whatever sick idea he's got up his sleeve. [Once he's sure Thunder is down, Petrow leans the railing against the top rope at an angle.] JS: I don't like the looks of this, Todd. TM: You talked about Petrow wanting to cripple Thunder earlier. And with something like that metal railing in there... we may see it happen, Steggs. This is getting very dangerous. [Petrow leans down, yanking the bloody Thunder up off the mat.] JS: He's got Thunder up... whip! [A tired Lone Wolf hits the ropes, rebounding back.] JS: BACKDR- [But Thunder lashes out with a sharp boot to the face of Petrow, stunning him as Thunder steps forward.] JS: HE'S GOT HIM HOOKED! HE'S GONNA POWERBOMB HIM ON THE RAIL! [The crowd explodes as Thunder hoists Petrow into the air, preparing to drive him down on the leaned metal barricade... ...but Petrow manages to slip free, landing on his feet behind Thunder.] JS: He got out! He escaped the powerbomb! TM: Good thing. He was risking a broken back if he didn't. JS: Petrow to the ropes... [But as he bounces back, Thunder hooks him around the waist and hoists him up.] JS: FLAPJACK! FLAPJA- [The Lone Wolf is on the verge of falling back with Petrow, sending him facefirst into the steel... ...but a series of clenched fists to the skull makes Thunder break his grip, dropping the Sycho One just a few feet before him] JS: Petrow slips out again! He avoided the- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: HE KICKS THUNDER LOW!!! TM: Right through the uprights! And the Lone Wolf is hurting now. [The fans boo wildly for the low blow... and then begin to buzz as Petrow yanks Thunder into a standing headscissors of his own.] JS: What the-?! Petrow's gonna powerbomb Thunder?! TM: Can he do it, Steggs? Is he strong enough to get Thunder up? JS: If he powerbombs him on the railing, this match is over! Petrow's trying to get him up... trying to hoist him up. I don't know if he has the power to do it but he's damn sure going to try! [Thunder drops down to a knee avoiding Petrow's attempts to hoist him into the powerbomb. An angry Petrow breaks his grip and steps back.] "WHAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAP!" [A series of four hard shots to the back of the neck stun Thunder, putting him down on both knees for a moment before Petrow pulls him off the canvas.] JS: He's going for it again! He thinks he's got Thunder softened up and he's going for the powerbom- AHHHHH! [MASSIVE POP!] JS: BACKDROP! THUNDER BACKDROPS HIM ON THE RAILING!!! What a counter! TM: And Joe Petrow brought the railing into the ring! His plan backfired in a big, big way, Steggs! JS: And that'll definitely put momentum on the side of Brody Thunder! [Thunder drops down on all fours, breathing deeply, trying to recover as Petrow rolls off the railing and all the way out to the wooden ramp.] JS: Thunder's down... Petrow wisely rolled from the ring to avoid any kind of pin attempt. Thunder countered the powerbomb but he was unable to take advantage of the situation. TM: But the Lone Wolf's crawling towards the ramp. He may not have been able to cover after the counter... but he's definitely going to try and take advantage of it. Thunder's sucking wind though... he's obviously hurting pretty bad and he's definitely not used to going this deep into a match. JS: Petrow's flat on his back on the ramp, trying to regroup... trying to get a second... maybe a third wind. [The Lone Wolf crawls through the ropes, then uses them to pull himself to his feet out on the ramp. He leans against the ropes for a bit, breathing deeply as he waits for Petrow to start to move.] JS: Thunder's trying to get a breather too. Both of these men have been through a hell of a war here tonight already. Now he's moving in on Petrow. TM: This ramp is a dangerous place to be. We talked about it earlier. I don't know what Thunder's got in mind out there but it can't be good news for Joe Petrow. JS: The brawler's pulling him up by the hair... and into a front facelock. [And the crowd _erupts_ as Thunder shouts "WIDOWMAKER!"] JS: Oh my god! He's going for the Widowmaker on the ramp! TM: I know we said anything it takes... but my god, he could break Petrow's neck with that! If he hits this on the ramp, he might break Petrow's damn neck. JS: Are you opposed to that? TM: Hrm. Good point. [Thunder attempts to hoist Petrow into the suplex DDT... ...but Petrow blocks it, avoiding the lift.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Dear god! Some brutal forearms to the back of Petrow's neck... and he's going for the Widowmaker again! [And again he tries to lift... and again Petrow drops to a knee to block it.] TM: He just can't get him up, Steggs. He really wants to do it... he wants to finish the match here and now but Petrow's able to block it. Joe Petrow won't go up for the Widowmaker and now- [Now, Thunder peels out of the front facelock, grabbing Petrow by the hair... ...and _hurling_ him off the ramp into the crowd! DEAFENING POP!] "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" [The crowd continues to roar with shock as Thunder stands on the ramp, looking down at the carnage he's caused. Fans have scattered. Steel chairs are knocked over and pushed out of their rows. Drinks and food have been overturned. And in the middle of it all, Joe Petrow lies on the cold concrete floor... not moving an inch.] JS: Dear... god. TM: Thunder wanted to finish it and he may have just done it! He hurled Joe Petrow off the damn ramp to the concrete floor. Petrow hit steel chairs on the way down and ultimately slammed into the unforgiving concrete from some eight feet in the air! JS: You can see the Sychopaths... those dedicated fans of Joe Petrow... TM: You mean his cult? JS: Some might call them that, yeah. Those fans have rushed to his side, trying to aid him... trying to help him in any way that they possibly can. TM: Unless they want to take a bullet from Thunder for him... they can't help him at all, Stegglet. JS: Some of them might do exactly that, Todd. Don't give them any ideas! [A slight smirk crosses Thunder's face as he glares at Petrow's motionless body.] JS: Is he smiling? I think Thunder's happy with what he did! TM: He might have ended this match, Steggs. I'd imagine he'd be damn happy with that! [Thunder drops down off the ramp, hopping over the metal railing into the crowd... and then starts shoving Sychopaths aside as he makes his way towards his fallen foe.] JS: Thunder's going for him! He's wading through those damn Sychopaths... trying to get to his opponent. This isn't right, Todd. You shouldn't have to battle through the crowd to _get_ to your opponent! TM: Anything can happen in a match like this, Steggs. JS: We've seen that... that's for sure. [After a few more fans are pushed aside, Thunder reaches the downed Petrow, peeling him off the floor by the hair... ...and catching a sharp jab to the windpipe by Petrow!] JS: Oh! Right to the throat! Petrow may have been playing possum a little bit and he just made Thunder pay the price. [The rabid fans surrounding Petrow roar as he takes the advantage... then rush to follow his every desire.] JS: Petrow's wanting something... he's asking for- [Pop!] TM: CRUTCH! [Petrow grins as he brandishes the crutch as a weapon... ...and _shatters_ it across the back of the stunned Lone Wolf!] JS: HE BROKE THE CRUTCH OVER THUNDER'S BACK!!! [A dazed Thunder staggers... but does not fall. So, Petrow raises his hand and waits for it to be filled by the crazed fans surrounding him.] JS: KENDO STICK!!! [The lead Sychopath grins as he spots the stick in his hand.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [A shot to the shoulder makes Thunder wince.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [One to the ribcage doubles up Thunder.... and Petrow loses control.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [The crowd roars from the beating... and then grows louder as Thunder slumps down to his knees, looking up through a crimson mask at Petrow who holds the cane high... ...and brings it down over Thunder's head one more time, shattering the cane and dropping the Lone Wolf down to the floor in a heap! Massive mixed pop!] JS: Dear god! Did I just see that?! TM: Thunder got worn out with the damn singapore cane! All those shots to the body and the head... and then he shattered the damn thing over Thunder's skull! [Petrow looks down at the bloodied Thunder... and puts his foot on the chest of the motionless Lone Wolf, waving for Kauffman to count.] JS: He wants Kauffman to count Thunder down on the floor... but that's not going to happen. Dan's telling him to bring Thunder back to the ring if he wants to pin him. TM: The right move by Kauffman. This isn't Falls Count Anywhere so- [The crowd "oooooohs" as Thunder shoves Petrow's foot off his chest, showing signs of life.] JS: Brody's not done yet! TM: And you can bet he's pissed as hell that Petrow tried to show him up right there with the boot to the chest. Joe Petrow, the egotistical jackass that he is, may have just signed his own- JS: Uh oh. [Petrow lifts both hands high... and waits for his next weapon to be brought to him.] JS: What more can he use on Thunder, Todd? What more can he-?! [Suddenly, the weapon of choice is placed in Petrow's hands... and he nearly buckles under the weight of it. But he fights it, muscling it up into the air.] JS: Is that a keg?! [And as the camera zooms in on the side of it.] TM: MOOSELIPS! PETROW'S GOT A KEG OF MOOSELIPS! JS: They still make that brand?! [The IIWF Forever Champion stands over Thunder, holding the huge metal keg above his head... waiting to throw it down on the bloodied Lone Wolf.] JS: This could- man, I don't even want to imagine what this could do to Thunder, Todd! I don't even- [Feeling the desperation, Thunder pops up to a knee, uncorking a right hand to the ribcage that forces Petrow to drop the keg harmlessly to the ground. A large disappointed pop goes up from the Sychopaths.] JS: Thunder up to his feet now... he avoided the keg and- [A huge ovation goes up as Thunder snatches a dry erase board from a fan with "PETROW IS GOD" written on it... ...and promptly _shatters_ it over Petrow's skull!] JS: OHHHH MY! [The Japanese native staggers back from the impact of the blow, backing towards the ring as Thunder shoves another Sychopath aside, reaching into a crowd... ...and producing a life-sized cardboard "standy" of "Mr. Majestic" Maurice McArthur! Huge pop!] JS: 4M! He's got a standy of 4M! TM: That's the best he could find? Petrow's pulling out kendo sticks and kegs and Thunder's got a cardboard- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: Well, he shattered 4M. I don't know if it hurt Petrow physicallly but it may have hurt him mentally! TM: Whatever. Thunder's digging in there again and- JS: What...the...fuck?! [The crowd echoes Stegglet's reaction as Thunder holds something high overhead.] TM: Hey! That's one of the Becky LaRue lifelike rubber vaginas! JS: How the hell do you know?! TM: Um... uhh... JS: You sound like you have experience with it. TM: Let's just say I owned one of them once. JS: How'd that turn out for you? TM: Best weekend of my life, babydolls! JS: Drossy... Soundbite... wish you could be here! [And with the "molded vagina" held high overhead... ...Thunder _drives_ it down across the forehead of Joe Petrow, sending him staggering back even further!] JS: I can't imagine that hurt too much. TM: You'd be surprised. No lube. JS: Ewww. [And one more time, Brody Thunder reaches into the crowd... ...and pulls out a bright neon pink cardboard placard with "IIWF" stenciled on it.] JS: Egads. I'm blind! TM: Pink? PINK!? [Thunder rears back again... and swings it down!] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" JS: Uhhhh. TM: That didn't sound like cardboard! [The Lone Wolf stares at the sign in his hands as Petrow staggers further back, almost to the steel barricade. He rips the cardboard to reveal a metal street sign underneath. And the words on it? "Antelope Crossing". MASSIVE POP!] JS: Petrow staggering back... oh! He fell over the railing into the ringside area... and Brody Thunder's in hot pursuit! TM: Hehehe... antelopes. JS: Focus, padawan... focus. [Thunder throws a leg over the railing, climbing back into the ringside area where he tugs Petrow up, shoving him back into the ring and rolling back in behind him.] JS: A cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- [Big mixed pop!] JS: Petrow gets the shoulder up! I guess a cardboard standy, a rubber vagina, and a Antelope Crossing sign wasn't enough to score a pinfall. TM: It's not every day you hear that said. JS: Indeed. [Thunder pushes himself off the canvas, looking down at the wounded Petrow and lifts his boot...] JS: Oh my god. No! [The Lone Wolf lowers his boot... and presses the sharp metal spur into the forehead of his rival... ...and rakes it across! Huge shocked pop!] JS: AHHHH! [Petrow's hands shoot up to cover his face, blood spurting from the wound.] JS: Another cover... forearm bone pushed down to the cheek. ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [Huge mixed pop!] JS: He got the shoulder up again! Joe Petrow is refusing to stay down... not even wanting to be subjected to the ten count. Petrow keeps getting the shoulder up off the mat and- oh my god! Thunder's got the spur again! [And again, he rakes the sharp spur across the forehead of Petrow, deepening the wound as the crowd roars in shock at Thunder's savage brutality!] JS: I can't... my god, that was hideous! Two times Brody Thunder rakes his spur across the forehead of his rival... two times just ripping open the flesh of Joe Petrow! TM: Blood is just pouring down Petrow's face... he's a bloody mess, Stegglet. That's just a horrible site and I hope the kids watching at home turned away before they saw that. JS: Fans, this is likely to get worse before it gets better... so for our parents at home, please remember your discretion is advised. [Thunder reaches down to pull a limp Joe Petrow off the canvas, pulling him into a standing headscissors and hoisting him up... ...before _spiking_ him skullfirst into the canvas! Huge pop!] JS: PILEDRIVER! HE SPIKED HIM!! [And then throws an arm across Petrow's chest.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEE!!! [DING DING DING] JS: An easy pin for Brody Thunder... and now let's see how much damage he did. Thunder crawls back, sitting in the corner... and Dan Kauffman's going for the ten count. Petrow may not get up from that, Todd. Two vicious rakes with that spur across the face have left him bleeding like a stuck pig... and now a piledriver? He's gotta be fading fast. TM: He may be... but you've gotta remember he's a tough son of a bitch. He's taken the Skullpump... he's taken going through table after table... he's survived the Quickstriker. Petrow is a tough SOB, bottom line. [Kauffman counts.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" [The crowd begins to buzz as Petrow somehow manages to push himself off the mat, blood pouring from his open wounds onto the canvas.] JS: Ugh. This is gruesome. TM: It's like a damn horror movie. Blood's just dripping onto the mat... so much for the expensive airbrush job. JS: And just think... we've still got a Killing Box to come. TM: Good lord. Somehow I'd almost forgotten that. [Petrow pushes himself back to his feet, falling into the ropes to hold his balance as a fired-up Lone Wolf moves in behind him.] JS: Thunder grabs him by the blood-soaked hair... spinning him around... boot to the gut! Front facelock! TM: He's going for the Widowmaker again! He's going to- JS: No! Petrow drops down on both knees, desperately trying to avoid the killshot. He knows that if Thunder hits the Widowmaker, this match is likely over. [A disgusted Lone Wolf grabs Petrow by the hair again, _driving_ his knee into his face, sending Petrow slumping down to the mat in a heap.] JS: He couldn't get him up. Joe Petrow is desperate to avoid the Widowmaker at all costs. He knows what's on the line. He knows what'll happen if he's hit with it. TM: Brody shoves him aside. [And slaps his bicep, bringing a loud roar from the crowd as he charges to the far ropes, rebounding off.] JS: LAAAAARIAAAAATOOOOOO!!! [But the dazed Joe Petrow, desperate to avoid further punishment, somehow manages to hoist Thunder off the canvas before getting drilled with the lariat... somehow manages to pivot with the heavy Arizona cowboy... ...and somehow manages to _plant_ him backfirst on the leaning metal barricade with a spinebuster! Deafening mixed pop!] JS: OHHHHH MY!!! SPINEBUSTER ON THE STEEL! TM: And if my ears don't deceive me, it almost sounds like a few more fans are starting to rally behind Joe f'n Petrow! JS: He's fought a tremendous battle... blood just pouring from his skull. He refuses to give in... refuses to stay down. It's hard not to cheer someone like that, Todd. TM: Not you too! We hate Joe Petrow, remember?! [The Japanese native collapses on the canvas, having used most of his remaining strength to hoist Thunder into the air. The crimson continues to flow, staining the canvas under his head.] JS: How the hell is Petrow even able to move? Look at all that blood! He's like a damn geyser of crimson in there! TM: Thunder rolls off the railing, his hand reaching over to his back. That spinebuster did a hell of a lot of damage to him, Steggs. It had to. JS: He rolls out to the ramp, trying to avoid a cover by Petrow. He doesn't want to face a ten count... not after that. TM: A smart move by the big brawler. [With the Lone Wolf out on the ramp, Joe Petrow musters up the energy to drag himself... literally dragging his own limp body... across the canvas towards the far ropes.] JS: Where the hell is Petrow going? TM: Better question is... how the hell is he moving? JS: I don't know... this guy has a hell of a lot more guts than I think we gave him credit for. We knew he wanted this match so badly... he wants this win so badly. But I didn't think he'd go this far to get it. TM: Anything it takes. JS: Apparently so. Petrow's grabbing the ropes... somehow, someway dragging his limp body off the bloody canvas. [An exhausted Petrow leans against the ropes, trying to get a breather as he plans his next move. Blood continues to pump from his wound... more and more spilling as his heart beats. He drapes his arms over the ropes, trying to stay standing as the Lone Wolf slowly starts to push himself up out on the ramp.] JS: Both men are somehow back to their feet and- PETROW! [The Sychotic One sprints across the ring at top speed, running up the still leaning metal railing... ...and hurling his body into a somersault, crashing down on the stunned Lone Wolf! HUUUUUGE POP!] JS: JOE PETROW IS INSANE! JOE PETROW IS PUTTING HIS BODY ON THE LINE OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO TRY AND WIN THIS MATCH! TM: That was just like Kowalski vs Hansen! He ran up that railing like it was nothing and threw himself onto Thunder! Incredible! JS: Both men are down... both men are hurting. They're back out on the wooden rampway that leads to and from the ring and this is a bad place to be when you're as banged up as they are. TM: It's a bad place to be no matter what but even more so now. [The crowd continues to roar as the two men lie on the wooden ramp, chests heaving as they try to recover from the war they've been through so far... and slowly, a chant begins.] "LET'S GO THUN-DER!" clapclap clapclapclap [And then... surprisingly... its' counterpart begins as well.] "LET'S GO PET-ROW!" clapclap clapclapclap [Soon, the two chants are battling for supremacy, fans of both men hoping to inspire their grappler to his feet... hoping to drive their warrior to another level... hoping to breathe new life into their hero.] JS: It's deafening here at Staples Center! The J*STAR Festival is alive! TM: Both men have put their minds, bodies, and souls on the line in this match. Joe Petrow has ventured out of retirement for a fight the likes of which he hasn't seen in years. Brody Thunder has returned to the United States to do battle with the one man he never got a chance to put down in the Double Eye. It's a battle of wrestling history before our very eyes. It's a battle for supremacy between two icons... two legends of our industry! JS: And both men are starting to stir! Both men are starting to rise! [The cheers grow louder as the two warriors drag themselves off the platform, preparing to continue their battle until one man can no longer stand on his own... ...and then quickly turn as Petrow slips a knee into the midsection of his rival, yanking him into a front facelock while cradling Thunder's leg with one arm.] JS: Oh no! Not on the ramp! Not on- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [MASSIVE MIXED POP!] JS: BULLET TRAIN TO HELL!! The fisherman DDT on the wooden platform and Brody Thunder's skull was just _driven_ into that solid wood platform! His skull may have been cracked like an egg right there! [Petrow, unable to get back to his feet, simply rolls Thunder...rolls him across the ramp... rolls his unconscious form under the ropes... then rolls himself into the ring, throwing an arm across Thunder's heaving chest.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! [DING DING DING] JS: The Bullet Train To Hell scores another victim. Brody Thunder could not kick out of the Bullet Train on the platform... and as Dan Kauffman moves him away from Thunder, all eyes are focused on the Lone Wolf. TM: Can he make it up? Can he survive the Bullet Train To Hell? If he doesn't break the ten count, this match... and his career in SJPW... is over! [Kauffman shoves a bloodied Petrow into the neutral corner and begins his ten count.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" [And before the final count can fall, the Lone Wolf uses a burst of energy to push himself to his feet, falling back against the ropes as he reaches them... but breaking the count at nine. DEAFENING POP!] JS: THUNDER'S UP! THUNDER'S UP! MY GOD IN HEAVEN, BRODY THUNDER BROKE THE COUNT AT NINE! THE LONE WOLF LIVES TO FIGHT SOME MORE! [Leaning against the ropes, barely able to stand on his own power, Thunder waves his arms at Petrow, telling him to "bring it on".] JS: My god, he wants more?! TM: Brody Thunder is a warrior! He posesses the kind of fighting spirit that most competitors only dream of, Steggs. He- JS: PETROW CHARGES! [But as he does, Thunder drops his head and sends the lead Sychopath _sailing_ over the top rope, flying through the air before crashing down to the solid concrete floor below!] JS: PETROW TO THE FLOOR!! TM: Good lord! What a fall by Petrow! JS: He went sailing through the air... maybe ten or fifteen feet... and slammed down on solid concrete. And if a fall like that doesn't knock the wind out of Joe Petrow's sails, I don't know what will. [Thunder slumps down to the canvas near the ropes, rolling under them out to join his blood rival out on the floor.] JS: Both men outside the ring now... and Thunder's digging under the ring. He's got the apron lifted up, searching for something... looking for- [The Arizona native lifts his hand high in the air, revealing a bullrope complete with cowbell.] JS: Oh my! He's got a bullrope! TM: And EMWC fans remember Thunder using that bullrope to great effectiveness allllll the way back at Showtime V against "Playboy" Ronnie D. D ultimately nearly blinded Thunder with the cowbell but not before he took one hell of a beating. JS: Joe Petrow, I hope you're taking notes! [Pulling Petrow to a seated position by his blood-soaked hair, Thunder loops the rope around his throat and pulls back, strangling the life out of the barely-moving Sycho One.] JS: Oh my god! Thunder's choking the air out of his lungs! Brody Thunder's trying to turn Joe Petrow's lights out for good! [Still holding the ropes around the throat, Thunder uses his off hand to grab the cowbell... ...and to _drive_ it down into the bloody forehead of his foe! Big pop!] JS: OH! Cowbell to the head! And he's not- AHHHH! [The crowd groans in unison as Thunder turns the bell, driving the metal edge into the cut on the forehead of Petrow!] JS: AHHH! That's obscene, Todd! TM: It's brutal... it's vicious... and it's exactly what we should expect from a man whose family was insulted by his enemy. [Thunder pulls the bell away... and then slams it down into the back of Petrow's neck, knocking him back facefirst to the floor.] JS: Good lord. TM: Thunder takes a shot at the neck... softening Petrow up for when he does finally get to use the Widowmaker. [Tossing the rope aside, Thunder peels Petrow off the floor... ...and fires him towards the wooden ramp, sending Petrow crashing with the back of his neck taking the brunt of the impact! Big pop!] JS: Oh my! Right to the back of the neck... right into the ramp. And if you weren't sure before, we know now that Thunder is definitely looking to hit that Widowmaker. [With a handful of hair, Thunder rolls Petrow back into the ring, climbing in behind him.] JS: Both men back in the ring, Thunder reaches down to pull him back up. TM: Here it comes! He's going for it again! The Widowmak- JS: OH! Petrow shoved him all the way back to the corner! He felt that front facelock... he knew the Widowmaker was coming and he did anything he could to get out of it. [Petrow stands up, Thunder at his mercy in the buckles.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [A big chop blisters across the pectorals of the Lone Wolf, leaving another red welt behind.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Another big chop on the mark! Thunder's grimacing in the corner... really feeling the effects of those chops. He's hurting for sure. [Leaning over, Petrow hoists Thunder off the canvas and deposits him on the top turnbuckle.] JS: He sets Thunder up top... now what's he-?! [The crowd roars as Petrow yanks and tugs... ...and eventually pulls Brody Thunder's cowboy boot right off his left foot!] JS: What the-?! TM: SPUR! [But before he uses the sharp metal spur, Petrow winds up and _clubs_ Brody Thunder across the face with the boot, sending him plummeting off the top rope and all the way down to the concrete where he slams backfirst against the ground! Huge mixed pop!] JS: Oh my god! He... my god, Thunder fell _straight_ onto his back off the damn ropes, Todd! He went from the penthouse to the basement in horrific fashion! TM: _Right_ on his back too. There was absolutely no cushioning that fall, Steggs. He fell a long, long way onto solid concrete. His back has got to be in tremendous pain... horrific pain. This could be the turning point of this match. If Joe Petrow can capitalize on this fall, this match is over. [Petrow rolls to the floor, tugging Thunder up to his knees... ...and driving the spur into the forehead, ripping Thunder's flesh with the sharpened metal!] JS: AHHHHH! TM: We said it earlier... payback's a bitch and Brody Thunder is feeling the pain of his own damn spur being driven into his skin. JS: He's slicing open Thunder's skin right where he was already cut... just widening that cut. OHHH! He's dragging the spur back and forth on the forehead of the Lone Wolf! [The camera zooms in on the scene, showing the spur ripping open Thunder's forehead and the tan skin being replaced by spurting crimson. You can almost hear the nausea in the crowd as Petrow throws the boot aside, revealing Thunder's forehead that now resembles ground beef.] JS: Ugh. TM: Haven't seen something like that in a while, huh? JS: Only in my nightmares. [Petrow yanks Thunder off the floor, shoving him back into the ring just before rolling in behind him.] JS: Both men back in the ring... Petrow stays on the attack, hoisting Thunder up... atomic drop? [Instead, he drops Thunder on the top turnbuckle, tying his legs up in the tree of woe... then pulling back so he's hanging from the buckles.] JS: What the hell is he doing now? [Petrow slides out to the floor, going behind the ringpost... and grabbing Thunder's arms, pulling back on them.] JS: What the-?! TM: This is how he made Chris Quigley submit in their Submission Match! This is the hold that gave Quigley the first submission loss on his record! JS: This is the move that was described as something you'd only see in a prison camp! Look at the pressure on the arms and shoulder! TM: Screw that. Look at the torque on the back! [Thunder screams in agony as Petrow pulls his arms together as much as possible.] JS: Brody Thunder is fighting it... but there's no DQ in this match. He can't get to the ropes to break this hold. TM: Hell, he was in the ropes when the hold was applied! Joe Petrow knows Kauffman can't break this hold... he knows that there's no way out of it... no way but- [DING DING DING] JS: What? Why's the bell ringing? TM: I don't believe it, Steggs. [The crowd falls to a hush... even Joe Petrow's eyes going wide with disbelief as he releases the hold, allowing Kauffman to free Thunder from the tree of woe.] JS: Fans, Brody Thunder... for the first time in his illustrious career... has submitted to a hold. TM: My god, Stegglet... we just witnessed history! His back was hurting so bad... he knew he had no way out of it... he knew there was nothing he could do. And the back was just killing him. What choice did he have? You just can't be out there with an injured back and fight your normal fight. Trust me. JS: Joe Petrow looks as shocked as anyone. I don't think he ever imagined getting Thunder to submit to something here today. I don't think he even dreamed of it! [With Petrow rolling back in to a neutral corner, Kauffman begins the count.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" [And again, before the final count comes down, Brody Thunder gingerly climbs to his feet, hanging tightly to the ropes to keep from falling down.] JS: He got up! The tough son of a bitch got up again! TM: And Petrow is pissed! [Frustrated, Joe Petrow stomps across the ring and sinks his fingers into the mouth of his opponent.] JS: Mandible claw! Petrow with the mandible claw! He's trying to render Thunder unconscious right here and now! TM: Brody Thunder's _got_ to get out of this, Steggs... he's got to do it quickly! If Petrow's allowed to sink this hold in deep, we're going to have a winner... we're going to- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: OUTLAW'S CURSE!! OUTLAW'S CURSE!! [The crowd _explodes_ as Thunder uncorks one of the signature moves of his mentor, lifting Petrow into a belly to back suplex... ...and dumping him over the ropes and down to the concrete below!] JS: My god! What the hell did we just witness?! TM: The ultimate act of desperation. One move to save one man... one move to perhaps end another. JS: Joe Petrow is _not_ moving, fans. He hit the floor incredibly hard and he has yet to move since. Brody Thunder is leaning against the ropes... he knows he got lucky there. He knows it was an act of a desperate man. [Dropping down to the mat, Thunder rolls under the ropes to the floor and immediately lifts the ring apron, looking for something.] JS: Now what the hell is going on? Haven't they used enough weaponry on each other?! TM: Apparently not. [Thunder digs around a bit and then starts tugging on something... pulling until it comes into view... ...and the Staples Center crowd _loses it_!] JS: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! TM: THE FUCKING BULLDOG BROWN TABLE?! [The crowd roars as Thunder pulls out the most infamous no-selling table of them all, held together with what appears to be spit, tape, and bubble gum... ...and shoves that sumbitch into the ring.] JS: Brody Thunder's got the Bulldog Brown table in the ring. The table made its' debut at Ring Wars 3 in the Seven Tables of Fear match and it's been seen so many times... been used so many times. TM: And that damn thing stays together. You can break it... you can burn it... you can blow it up... but the damn thing keeps coming back! JS: Kinda like Kauffman. TM: Ouch! Shoot Steggster Shoot! [Dragging Petrow off the floor by the hair, Thunder rolls him back into the ring and then crawls in behind him, climbing back to his feet.] JS: Thunder's back in the ring... Petrow's in there as well but he's down on the mat. The Lone Wolf leans over to pick him up and- "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!" [The crowd roars as the ring is lit up by a hurled fireball... but luckily one that only grazes the Lone Wolf.] JS: Petrow threw fire! He went to burn the Lone Wolf but he only singed him! He only- TM: It was enough to distract him though! [And with Thunder distracted, Petrow hoists him into the air in a reverse crucifix powerbomb position... ...and _plants_ him facefirst on the canvas! Deafening pop!] JS: KNIGHTMARE! KNIGHTMARE! THAT MAY DO IT!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [DEAFENING POP!] JS: FOOT ON THE ROPES! FOOT ON THE ROPES! TM: Petrow covered too close! He might have gotten a ten count out of it if he'd gone to the center of the ring but instead he gets nothing! [An irate Joe Petrow slaps the mat in frustration, kneeling in the ring glaring at his opponent before pushing himself up to his feet.] JS: Petrow back up, still shaking his head. He can't believe the mistake he just made. One of his big finishers goes to waste as he fails to pull Thunder to the middle of the ring before making the cover. TM: It may not matter though, Steggs. Take a look at what he's doing now! [The crowd begins to buzz as Petrow turns his attention towards the Bulldog Brown table lying in the ring thanks to his opponent's efforts. Petrow opens the table up, setting it up in the middle of the ring.] JS: Uh oh. TM: The stiffest table in the business is opened up... and Joe Petrow has some bad things in mind for Brody Thunder. [With a sick grin, the bloodied Petrow pulls his rival off the mat, shoving him onto the wooden table... and heads for the corner.] JS: Oh my god! He's got Thunder on the table and Joe Petrow is looking to fly! Joe Petrow is looking to end this match right now. TM: He knows he just blew one chance and he's not about to do it again. Petrow's scaling the ropes... Thunder hasn't moved an inch on that table. JS: But what's he going to do when he gets there? [Stepping up on the top rope, the Japanese native pauses... soaking in the cheers of the roaring crowd... and hurls himself backwards... ...flipping through the air!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [...and coming up empty as Thunder rolls away from the moonsault attempt, causing Joe Petrow to slam chestfirst on the wooden table. Which, predictably, does not break.] JS: OHHHHH MY! TM: Sweet Jesus, Stegglet. Petrow just slammed ribs and chestfirst on the wooden table... and that damned table... that amazing friggin' table... DID NOT BREAK! [Thunder uses the table to pull himself back to his feet... and then uses it again to climb up on top of it, pulling Petrow up on the table with him.] JS: There's blood coming from the mouth of Joe Petrow! TM: How the hell can you tell!? His entire face is covered in blood! JS: He may have suffered internal injuries from the missed moonsault... and with Brody Thunder pulling him up on that table, that may be the least of his worries. TM: You know it's a war when internal injuries might be the least of your worries. JS: Indeed. Thunder tugs him into a standing headscissors... he lifts! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [DEAFENING SHOCKED POP... followed by a buzzing silence.] JS: Dear... god in heaven. A piledriver on the table... something designed to go _through_ the table... and it doesn't! That damn table did not break! TM: Thunder tried to spike Petrow through the table and the table survived! "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" JS: And these Staples Center fans hit the nail right on the head, Todd. Can you believe what we just witnessed? TM: We may have witnessed the end of Joe Petrow's career! The damage to his neck would have bad enough if the table has broken clean. But with it staying up... my god... my god. [Thunder slips off the table, lying on the canvas next to Petrow. Referee Dan Kauffman grabs the table, folding it up and tossing it back out to the floor as he checks on both competitors.] JS: Dan Kauffman clears the table out of the ring. He's checking on both these men... what a mess they both are. Physically broken... bloodied... barely able to move at all. TM: Dammit, Stegglet... if Kauffman stops this match, he's going to be lynched in the middle of the ring. He'll make Shaq look like the most popular man in this building. [An exhausted Thunder sits up, shaking his head at Kauffman... and as the crowd roars their support for him, he battles up to his feet.] JS: The Lone Wolf rises again! The Lone Wolf is- he's going for the kill! [Reaching down, he pulls the blood-soaked hair of Petrow to bring him back to his feet.] JS: Boot to the gut... front facelock! WIDOWMAK- [The crowd groans as Petrow violently brings his boot down... ...right on the uncovered foot of Brody Thunder!] JS: Oh! He stomped the foot of Thunder... that foot that used to be covered in the cowboy boot. The foot that Petrow ripped the boot off of! TM: Brilliant move by Petrow! He saved himself in a big way with that. [Thunder spins away from Petrow, hobbling as he tries to shake some feeling back into his toes, turning back to face him...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" JS: SYCHO KICK! SYCHO KICK! SYCHO KICK! [The snap thrust kick catches Thunder under the jaw, flooring him once more.] JS: He got him, Todd! He caught him with Sycho Kick and that may do it. TM: It might be enough, Steggs. Petrow needs to cover him right now... he needs to- [Petrow moves towards the downed Thunder, looking to cover... ...then stops.] TM: What the hell is he doing?! Cover him, you moron! [But Petrow does not attempt a cover. His eyes go wide, looking out over his Sychopaths... and suddenly, he drops to the mat, rolling to the floor.] JS: Where's he going, Todd? TM: He's going over to those nutcase fans of his... they're huddled around him... giving him something. I can't quite see what- [Suddenly, Petrow holds the object high, bringing a deafening pop from the fans in attendance.] JS: A TRICYCLE?! TM: Oh god. [Petrow tosses the tricycle into the ring, rolling in behind it to pick it up... and then dips into his boot to retrieve something.] JS: Now what the hell is going on? Isn't it bad enough we've got a damn tricycle in the ring but now we're going to have- [MASSIVE POP!] TM: FIRE! JS: He's got a can of lighter fluid! What the hell is going on!? WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?! [The crowd grows louder and louder as he soaks the tricycle in lighter fluid... and then holds up a Zippo lighter for one and all to see.] JS: Oh my god. TM: We've seen the tricycle moonsault in Portland... but never a FLAMING TRICYCLE MOONSAULT! JS: Petrow drops the lighter fluid... and he's heading up top! This sick son of a bitch is really going to do this, Todd. He really is! TM: It sure looks like it. [Petrow steps to the midbuckle... then to the top, still holding the tricycle high above with one hand... ...and slowly reaching up with the other... the one clutching the lighter.] JS: Here we go! This is it! [And with a flick of his thumb, the lighter ignites... as does the fluid.] JS: EEEEEEEEEEEE!!! [With a flaming tricycle in his hand, Petrow throws the lighter back into the ring, grabs the toy with both hands... ...and leaps backwards, flipping through the air with the flaming tricycle aimed straight for the chest of Brody Thunder... ...who apparently has plans of his own as he grabs the discarded lighter fluid and promptly pours some in his own mouth.] JS: MOONSAULLLLLLLLLT! [The Lone Wolf rolls out of the way of the flaming moonsault, scooping up the discarded lighter as he does so. Petrow completes the flip... and somehow manages to land on his feet upon seeing Thunder bail out. He lowers the tricycle a bit, giving Thunder the chance he was looking for as he raises the lighter, igniting it... ...and spewing the fluid from his mouth, creating a mammoth fireball that completely engulfs the tricycle and apparently the head of the IIWF Forever Champion! DEAFENING SHOCKED POP!] JS: MY GOD!! MY GOD!! SOMEBODY HELP HIM!! [Kauffman scoops up the discarded tricycle, hurling it from the ring as a blinded and burned Petrow staggers forward... ...into a boot to the midsection followed by a front facelock. Thunder hoists him off the canvas as if for a suplex... then _spikes_ him skullfirst into the canvas before reaching the vertical plane.] JS: WIDOWMAKER!! WIDOWMAKER!! [Thunder dives across the chest of the slightly burned Petrow who apparently ducked the bulk of the flame.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! [DING DING DING] JS: That's what Thunder's been looking for the whole match. That's what he wanted to hit... that's what he thought would end this fight in his favor. TM: We're about to find out if he's right. JS: Kauffman backs Thunder to the corner... and here we go! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TE-" [Just before the death knoll sounds for Joe Petrow, he drags himself to his feet using the top rope. The bloodied and burned Sychopath glares across the ring, barely able to stand... unable to move... unable to gloat and grin and taunt his rival.] JS: PETROW STANDS! THE CRAZY SON OF A BITCH STANDS! [He leans down, dipping into his other boot... ...and produces a set of handcuffs, quickly securing one end to his wrist and the other to the top rope.] JS: What the hell?! [Petrow grins widely, waving for Thunder to attack him which the Lone Wolf happily does.] JS: Here comes Thunder! Right hand! Left hand! Elbow! Forearm! He's beating the hell out of Joe Petrow! He's beating him to a pulp against the ropes! [But no matter how many times Thunder hits him... Joe Petrow will not fall. In fact, Joe Petrow _can not_ fall. His wrist is secured to the top rope, preventing him from dropping to the canvas.] TM: I hate to admit it... but that was absolutely genius, Stegglet. JS: It appears so. Joe Petrow has made it impossible for him to fall to the mat. He's made it impossible to be pinned... impossible to be counted down... and ultimately, impossible to lose this match! [An irate Lone Wolf continues to pummel Petrow's face repeatedly, not giving up for a moment... ...until Dan Kauffman physically shoves him back much to the dismay of the Staples Center crowd.] TM: What the hell is Kauffman doing?! JS: He's telling Thunder that he wants to see if Petrow can continue! He wants to see if he can- Todd! Todd! What's Petrow doing?! [With the referee distracting Thunder, Petrow dips into his tights, retrieving something unseen by the camera.] JS: What did he just get? He got something out of his tights and I can't tell what it was! [Petrow gestures to Ken Graham while hanging from the top rope, ordering him to give him the house mic.] JS: Petrow's apparently got something to say. TM: Right now? Worry about getting killed, Joe... not a soliloquy. [With the house mic in hand, Petrow pulls himself back to his feet. Blood streaming down his head, covering his toothy grin, Petrow begins to speak.] "THUNDER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" [The Lone Wolf tries to shove past Kauffman, but the referee holds him at bay, holding his ground.] "YOUR WIFE'S A WHORE!" [The fans "oooooooh" at the statement as Thunder tries to throw Kauffman aside but finds his weary body unable to respond to his wishes. And then? Petrow gets _real_ personal.] "AND GOD HELP ME... I'M GONNA MAKE YOUR BABY GIRL MY BITCH!" [The roof breaks off the Staples Center as the crowd erupts... ...as does Brody Thunder, _hurling_ Dan Kauffman off his feet and racing towards the captive Joe Petrow.] JS: Is Petrow out of his damn mind?! He's crazier than we thought! He's nutty as- [But as Thunder approaches Petrow, the sly IIWF Forever Champion slips whatever he retrieved from his tights into his mouth.] JS: BRODY, LOOK OUT! [The Lone Wolf stampedes towards him, ready to strike hard... ...and gets a yellow spray into his eyes!] JS: YELLOW MIST! PETROW WITH THE YELLOW MIST!! [A blinded Thunder throws wild haymakers but Petrow is somehow able to avoid them, muscling Thunder into a fireman's carry... ...and hurling him over the ropes and down to the concrete floor below! Deafening mixed pop!] JS: OHHHHHH! ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE FLOOR!! TM: Joe Petrow with the masterstroke of strategy out of nowhere. He baited Thunder into a bad situation and took big advantage of it! [A grinning Petrow rips off his wrist tape, revealing a key which he quickly uses to free himself from the handcuffs, leaving them dangling as he rolls out to the floor.] JS: Joe Petrow with everything in his favor right now. He's got Brody Thunder blinded, bloodied, and badly hurt on the concrete floor and now- TM: Oh shit. JS: PETROW'S PULLING UP THE PADDING! [The crowd buzzes wildly as Petrow peels up the small layer of padding that rests over the solid concrete floor.] JS: That padding doesn't cushion much... but it could be the different between losing a match and losing your career! TM: A difference that Brody Thunder no longer can take advantage of. JS: Petrow's on his feet, waving for Thunder to get up... begging him to get back to his feet. [But the Lone Wolf is still, unable to answer Petrow's demands... so the man from Japan answers for him, pulling Thunder off the floor... ...and into a front facelock.] JS: What the hell is he trying to do, Todd?! Somebody needs to stop this! Somebody needs to stop this right now, dammit! [Petrow reaches back, snaring Thunder's leg in a fisherman cradle.] JS: What the-?! NO! Not a Bullet Train on the concrete! NO! Somebody stop him! Somebody needs to- [But instead of falling back with Thunder, Petrow lifts him up... pauses...] JS: What is he-? [...and then lunges forward, _dumping_ Thunder down on the back of his head and neck on the concrete floor! The crowd explodes... then falls silent with worry.] JS: That... that's the Bullet Train '96! TM: It's been nine years since Joe Petrow sealed that move. He broke Chris Taylor's neck with it nine years ago and proclaimed it was too dangerous. He vowed never to use it again. And he lived up to that vow until tonight, Steggs. JS: Brody Thunder... my god, did you see how he hit the floor?! [Petrow collapses alongside Thunder, unable to take advantage of the move he unsealed just moments ago.] JS: Both men are down... but I'm afraid that Brody Thunder may be down permanently, Todd! This is terrible! TM: We may need to get some help out here. If anyone is listening in the back, please get an EMT team down here as quickly as possible. Brody Thunder is hurt and he is hurt badly. JS: He took the Bullet Train '96 on the concrete floor. His head and neck hit the floor in a sickening fashion. [Dan Kauffman dives to the mat, sliding out to the floor to check on both competitors.] JS: No comments for Kauffman? TM: Honestly, Steggs? I don't think I'd blame him for stopping the match now. I just don't like the way Thunder hit the floor. Hell, I'm having a hard time sitting here. We may have just seen something tragic. [Kauffman checks first on Thunder... then on Petrow... then on Thunder... then on Petrow... ...then throws his arms up in an "X" towards the locker room.] TM: Steggs, I'll be right bac- "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [The crowd explodes in shock as Joe Petrow sits up, eyes wide, having released a hellish defiant cry. He climbs to his feet... and violently shoves Dan Kauffman down to the floor.] JS: What the hell?! Come on, Joe! Enough's enough! Let Kauffman stop the match... let him end this right now. [Showing total exhaustion, Petrow struggles to get a deadweight Thunder off the mat onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry... then drops him on the ring apron, rolling him back into the squared circle.] JS: Petrow puts him back in... and he's rolling in with him. A cover. Not much drama here. [Kauffman slides back in and makes the easy three count.] JS: That's it. It's all over. This count is merely a formality. [With Thunder motionless on the canvas, Joe Petrow climbs to his feet, staggering away from his rival and leaning on the ropes, facing his fans.] JS: Petrow's basking in the glory... enjoying his victory. And here we go. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TE-" [MOTHER OF ALL POPS!] JS: HE'S UP!! HE'S UP!! SOMEHOW THE SON OF A BITCH IS UP!!! TM: He's not human. [Petrow hears the roaring crowd and lifts his arms in triumph, soaking up the cheers he believes to be for him. He staggers away from the ropes, slowly turning to have his hand raised in victory... ...and instead he catches a weary boot to the midsection! Pop!] JS: FRONT FACELOCK!!! HE LIFTS!!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [The crowd _erupts_ as Thunder drives Petrow skullfirst into the canvas once again with the Widowmaker DDT.] JS: WIDOWMAKER!! WIDOWMAKER!! THAT'S IT!! THAT'S GOTTA BE IT!! [The bloodied and dazed Lone Wolf pushes himself to his feet, looking down at Petrow's motionless form... ...and shakes his head.] JS: No cover?! TM: And now? Joe Petrow will realize what a mistake it was to mess with Brody f'n Thunder. [Thunder reaches down, pulling a limp Petrow off the canvas... and into a uranage setup.] JS: Is that-?! [The Lone Wolf hoists Petrow up, sweeping his legs as he does so... ...and _drives_ the back of his rival's skull into the canvas! HUGE POP!] JS: That was an Epitomizer! Brody Thunder just uncorked the finisher of the Epitome of Evil, Serge Annis! TM: Whoa! I've never seen Thunder do that before. I've never seen- JS: He's pulling Petrow up again?! [This time, he tugs the man from Japan into a standing headscissors.] JS: Now what's he got in store for him? [Thunder cracks a slight grin as he reaches down and hooks one arm... ...which brings a deafening pop... and a chant.] "SKULL-PUMP!" "SKULL-PUMP!" "SKULL-PUMP!" [As the chant roars on, Thunder reaches down to hook the other arm, hoisting Petrow up... ...and _spiking_ him skullfirst into the canvas! MASSIVE POP!] JS: You wanted an IIWF tribute? Well, Brody Thunder's delivering one at the expense of Joe Petrow! TM: Petrow's not even moving... not even able to stand but Brody Thunder's parade of legendary moves isn't over yet, I think. [Physically dragging Petrow off the canvas, Thunder spins him around... ...and hooks in a very familiar judo choke.] JS: KATA HA JIME!! HE LOCKS IN THE JUDO CHOKE MADE FAMOUS BY TIGER CLAW!! [He holds the choke just long enough to drive the fans into a frenzy and then shoves Petrow to the near ropes. The Sychopath rebounds... ...and gets drilled with a right hand to the heart! DEAFENING POP!] JS: BLACKHEART PUNCH!! BLACKHEART PUNCH!!! [The fist made famous by Casey James sends Petrow falling back into the ropes again... and this time when he rebounds, he catches a boot in the gut.] JS: Front facelock! [Thunder holds for a moment... cracks a smile... and lifts Petrow to the air for just a heartbeat before _spiking_ Joe Petrow skullfirst into the canvas! EARTHSHATTERING POP!] JS: CATTLEBUSTER! CATTLEBUSTER DDT!! [Thunder pulls himself off the mat, looks down at Petrow... and puts his foot firmly on his blood rival's chest, pointing for Kauffman to count.] JS: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! [DING DING DING] JS: I think this is just a formality... but here comes the ten count. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" [DING DING DING] KG: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner of the match... BROOOOOOOODYYYYYYYYYYY THUNNNNNNNNNDERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! [DEAFENING POP!] JS: Thunder has done it! He's defeated Petrow in the Outlaw Rules match! He's avenged his company... he's defended his family's honor... and most of all, he has beaten the one man from his past left to beat! [Thunder raises a triumphant arm, leaning against the ropes as blood pours down his head. He glares across the ring at Petrow, unmoving as he stares at the lights. And slowly... almost as if dragging his own better judgment with him... the Lone Wolf makes his way across the ring to where Petrow is lying on the canvas... ...and extends his hand! Big pop!] JS: Oh my! A handshake with Petrow?! Who would have thought? TM: After all they've done to each other... after all they've been through... they're walking away from this match with respect for one another. [The cheers grow louder as Petrow reaches up, accepting the handshake which Thunder uses to pull Petrow to his feet. The two men shake hands again, sharing a few words before the Sychotic One breaks his grip and staggers back onto the ramp.... making his way up the aisle to an enormous ovation from the J*STAR Festival fans.] JS: And after all that we've witnessed, Joe Petrow has even earned the respect of these fans! A standing ovation for the IIWF Forever Champion as he makes his way up the ramp. [Kauffman aids Petrow's exit, the bloodied warrior lifting an arm to pay tribute to the fans before exiting through the curtain. Inside the ring, the Lone Wolf raises a hand again... ...just before getting drilled from behind by a huuuuuuuge chairshot!] JS: What the-?! [A Japanese man stands in the ring, stomping the hell out of the bloodied and injured Thunder while the J*STAR fans boo with crazed confusion.] JS: That's... I think that's Jun Suzuki! He's the man known as the "Extreme Gaijin" in SJPW! What the hell is he doing?! [Suzuki picks the chair up again, slamming it down over the back of Thunder's skull again... and then tosses the chair aside, pulling the Lone Wolf up into a fireman's carry... ...and exiting the ring, Thunder up on his shoulders.] JS: What the hell? He's dragging Thunder out of here! After the bloody war that Brody Thunder has been through, this maniac from Super Japan Pro Wrestling has viciously assaulted him and... well... TM: He's kidnapping him! JS: It certainly appears so. [With a jeering crowd still roaring, Suzuki and Thunder disappear through the curtain.] JS: I don't... wow, fans... I'm not sure what to make of that. I'd like to able to follow them and find out what's going on. But unfortunately... we've still got one match to go. [And with that... the most demonic structure in the history of the sport begins to lower from its' place above the ring.] TM: Here we go. This is gonna be something else. [The Box lowers into place, the ring crew racing down the ramp to finish assembling it... ...and "Shitlist" by L7 starts up to a huge pop!] JS: Huh? Your co-promoter is on the way out here! [The former EMWC President Chris Blue steps out onto the ramp, house mic in hand.] CB: Thanks, guys. I wanted to personally come out here and thank each and every one of you watching this event... whether it's in the arena here live or home on Pay Per View. This event would not be happening without you. [Huge pop!] CB: In just a few moments, that structure will be secured in place and the most dangerous match in the history of our sport will begin... ...for the final time. [The crowd erupts in confusion.] CB: Many of you know that since the creation of this match, we've seen some very bad things happen. In fact, many have said that this structure is cursed in some way. I've seen this thing cut careers far shorter than necessary. Men like Simon Ezra who was never the same after going to war in it with Tiger Claw _and_ Caleb Temple. He was a young talent with the world before him... and the Box cut all that far too short. I've seen Casey James step into that thing to end a feud... to end a feud that people had waited years to see happen. And when it was over, he won a match... but lost a finger. No other match in EMWC history ever saw something like that happen... but the Killing Box did. [Blue shakes his head.] CB: So it's with a heavy conscience that I made the decision when planning for this event that this will be the final time that I will promote a show with this match on it. You will never see Extreme Sports sponsor another event with a Killing Box match on it. [Huge heel pop!] CB: I'm sorry... but I've seen too many young men end up in hospital beds before their time. I can't do it anymore... I just can't. So, on this night... when Caleb Temple was too much of a fucking coward to stand in that ring and face the two men he has wronged more than any others... when Caleb Temple fled into the night telling people he wouldn't wrestle on any show I was a part of... On this night... Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez will step into that ring. They will hurt... they will sweat... they will bleed for you. They will go to war in the most demonic structure ever created. And in the end... one man will stand alone as the winner of the _final_ Killing Box. [A pause.] CB: Tonight, the J*STAR Festival will make history... one way or another. Thanks again, fans. Enjoy the rest of the show. [The music starts back up as Blue exits the arena and the finishing touches are put on the Killing Box. Ken Graham steps into the ring, looking around with wonder at the punishing environment.] KG: This is our MAIN EVENT of the evening! It has no time limit and will be held within the confines... ...of the KILLING BOX! [Surprisingly, there's no big pop for this announcement. It's not that the fans aren't excited about this match, but instead, they stand silent in awe. A small murmur begins to come up from the crowd as the fans start to absorb the appearance. The lights bounce off the walls and ceiling of the Killing Box, creating a hauntingly angelic aura as soft white light reflects off the structure, filling the arena. One side is left open, and opposite it is a wall made of chickenwire. Another wall is made of plexiglass, and opposite it is a barbwire mesh, much like a chainlink fence. And on top, shining almost beautifully is a sheet of glass that looks heavy enough to crush the biggest of men, and strong enough for men to walk on. The corners, usually adorned by turnbuckles, are adorned with boards. Thick wooden boards, each with perils adorned. On one, nails are fastened to the board. On another, barbed wire is wrapped around the board. On a third, broken glass is glued to the board, and on the last board... Three bombs, sure to leave a nasty mark.] KG: Introducing first... weighing in tonight at three hundred and forty five pounds. And stands at an even seven feet tall. A former EMWC World Heavyweight Champion... Here is the Last American Badass.... AAAAALLLLLEEEEEXXXXXX MMMAAAARRRRTTTIIIINNNEZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!! [The lights go down completely, bathing the arena in black, and then, a familiar song plays over the loudspeakers.] #It's alright... It's alright... It's alright, I'm just a little crazy# [And as "Little Crazy" by Fight blares over the loudspeakers, a massive pyrotechnic display erupts. First, the entranceway is lit up by massive orange flames that reach for the top of the arena. And then, streams of silver sparks crisscross one another, their thunderous roar deafening. And as the pyro dies down and the lights come up, there in the center of the entranceway stands the Last American Badass. Martinez slowly stalks to the ring, the spotlights reflecting brilliantly off of his silver and black mirrored sunglasses. He all but ignores the crowd, even as they scream themselves hoarse, roaring their approval of the gritty, determined brawler. Martinez stands on the apron, before throwing one long leg, and then the other over the top rope, stalking into the center of the ring. With his blood spattered black leather jacket removed, and under the full glare of the spotlight, we see that his in ring attire consists of a pair of shiny black boots, with the letters "L.A.B." stenciled in gold on them, black leather pants adorned with silver buckles along the legs, a black knee brace on his oft-injured left knee, rubberized black tape on his hands, that goes from just below his knuckles to mid-forearm, and long black elbow pads that start just below his shoulder and nearly extend to the tape, leaving only an inch or two of exposed skin. Martinez tugs the ropes and prepares to prove to the world once again why he's called the Last American Badass.] KG: And his opponent... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Sounds of gunfire reverberate throughout the arena as the opening Guitar part starts up to "One" by Metallica. A HUGE pop hits the arena as the spotlight hits the entranceway. It stays there focused for a few more seconds as the song gets to James Hetfield's voice.] #I can't remember anything, can't tell if this is true or dream. #Deep down inside I feel the scream, this terrible silence stops me. #Now that the war is through with me, I'm waking up I can not see. #That there's not much left of me, nothing is real but pain now [The crowd joins in on..] #HOLD MY BREATH AS I WISH FOR DEATH... OH PLEASE GOD WAKE ME! [Out from behind the curtain, steps out Jeff Matthews, decked out in his ring attire which consists of crimson colored wrestling tights and high, laced up black boots. Jeff's body is still covered with the tattoos of Temple and the scars which he has endured over the years. Jeff slowly places the black elbow pads on and methodically makes his way to the ring, every so often looking to the crowd. Jeff looks up at the massive structure known as the Killing Box. He bows his head, and the mic picks up him uttering... "Lord have mercy on my soul for what I am about to do."] KG: From North Carolina... he is also a former World Heavyweight Champion... the Madfox... JEFF MAAAAAAATHEWWWWWSSSS!!! [Another huge pop goes up for Matthews who steps into the ring, glaring across at his former best friend. Ken Graham wisely gets the hell out of the ring as the two men stare each other down.] JS: No sign of Caleb Temple but this battle will go on without him, Todd. TM: It's unfortunate he didn't show... but we did warn the fans at home of that possibility. Whether it's in protest of Chris Blue's involvement in this event or if he's suffered a relapse in battling his demons... or even if, hopefully, he's gone home to Rhoni and Truth to rebuild his life... he is not here and will not be competing in this match. JS: But that will not take away from this match. Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez will compete in the most diabolical structure in wrestling history... and they will do so in an effort to finally settle the bad blood that has flowed between them for several years. TM: Even at times when they were allies, there was always a darkness between them... something that kept them from completely trusting each other. Tonight, hopefully, they can end that part of their lives. [Former senior EMWC official Mike Barnes steps between the two, giving a few last words of instruction... and then calling for the bell to start the war to come.] JS: There's the bell... and the match that Chris Blue has said will be the final Killing Box match to ever be promoted by himself is set to begin. It began with Caleb Temple and Simon Ezra and will end tonight with Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez. Win, lose, or draw... the legacy of the Killing Box comes to a close here tonight in Los Angeles. [As the bell rings, Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez stride to the center of the ring, locking eyes with one another. The two former friends... the two former enemies... preparing to square off for what will likely be the final time.] JS: You can feel the tension in the air. These two men have been to hell and back both together and against one another... and tonight, it ends. Jeff Matthews has all but retired from the wrestling business... and you have to believe this could be his final match in the industry. Alex Martinez continues to compete elsewhere... but for how long and to what impact? For both of these men, this may be the final major match of their respective careers. TM: It certainly could be. And if it is, you know that neither of them want to go out on the losing end. [Matthews stares into the eyes of his former friend, the man who betrayed him so long ago... ...and peels off the plain black t-shirt he wore down the aisle, hurling it across the ring where it gets stuck on the barbed wire, the sharp metal digging into the cloth. Big pop!] JS: Jeff Matthews takes off the shirt! TM: Not the smartest move someone in an environment like this can do... but a gutsy one. One that shows Alex Martinez that he's willing to be hurt... he's willing to bleed buckets if that's what it takes to win this match tonight. [A grin crosses Martinez' face as he likewise removes his "Last American Badass" t-shirt and flips it into the barbed wire where it gets caught. The two men, now bare above the waist, lock eyes once more... on even ground for the carnage before them.] JS: You know that both men were hoping Temple would be here. They were both hoping that the original King of the Death Match would be involved in this. So much payback they both want on him. TM: But they're not disappointed at all. They may have wanted Temple... but the chance to battle one on one for the final time is something neither would dream of passing up. [The camera zooms in on Matthews' face, his mouth moving rapidly as he speaks to his former friend.] JS: What I wouldn't give to be able to read lips right now, Todd? TM: He said, "Did Caleb get paid in advance for this?" JS: Did he? TM: No comment. [The talking continues... and suddenly disrupted by Jeff Matthews teeing off on his former friend.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [The crowd roars from the impact of the chop, Martinez wincing from the blow. His eyes go wide at the Madfox who rears back and does it again.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" JS: Man! What a chop by the Madfox! We've got two former EMWC World Champions going at it in there... and this is gonna get ugly, Todd. This isn't going to be a sportsmans battle. TM: You thought a match called the Killing Box was gonna be sportsmanlike? JS: Good point. [Martinez glares at Matthews, slapping his own chest.] JS: Uh oh. We saw Thunder do that earlier. Will Matthews do the- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: A brutal series of chops by the Madfox! The man that Mark Langseth annointed as the EMWC Franchise on his final night with the company is going to town on Martinez! TM: And Alex needs to watch out. Matthews is backing him down into the barbed wire board. He's trying to knock the Last American Badass into the- [A huge pop goes up as Martinez reaches out with both hands, snaring Matthews around the throat... hoisting him into the air.] JS: DOUBLE CHOKE!! FIREBOM- [But instead of planting Matthews through the canvas, Martinez merely hurls him out to the canvas in the center of the ring, glaring a hole right through him.] JS: Oooooh. Some bad blood still brewing between these two. Matthews got tossed across the ring like he was nothing. The Madfox getting back to his feet now and- [And he gets greeted with a running big boot kick that sends him sailing backwards towards the bed of nails... ...but he's able to stabilize himself before he hits them.] JS: So close. He almost slammed into the bed of nails and that would have a very bad situation so early in this match, Todd. TM: You never want to hit the nails but this early in the match, something like that could drastically effect the way the match plays out. [With the Madfox off-balance, Martinez stampedes towards him.] JS: CLOTHESLI- ducked by Matthews! [And this time, it's Martinez who firmly grabs the ropes with both hands, narrowly avoiding running into the bed of nails... ...but unable to avoid a quick armdrag to the mat as he turns around by the Madfox. Pop!] JS: Matthews is using his speed... using his quickness. Those are the areas where he holds a major advantage of Martinez and he needs to make sure he exploits that fact. [As the seven footer climbs off the mat, he doesn't charge... he doesn't kick the ropes in anger. He simply stares. Stares a cold pair of eyes into the heart of his former best friend.] JS: If looks could kill. TM: Great flick. Richard Grieco needs more work these days. [Matthews ignores the glare, marching across the squared circle and engaging in a collar and elbow tieup with the Last American Badass.] JS: Tieup... and it's pretty easy to guess who'll have the advantage in this one. TM: The seven foot, three hundred pound plus Badass? JS: Indeed. [The big man easily pushes Matthews backwards. The crowd begins to buzz as they realize where he's being pushed.] JS: They're getting close to the exploding corner! There's three pressure sensitve landmines in the corner on three separate boards... and if Matthews gets pushed into them, I think we're gonna see one explode! TM: He's getting close. Matthews needs to put the brakes on! [And that's exactly what the Madfox does, digging in his heels just a few feet away from the corner.] JS: He's trying to fight it! Trying to do battle with the big man! Trying to stay away from the corner! TM: Somehow Matthews is holding his ground. I don't know how the hell he's managing to hold a three hundred pounder back... but Martinez is shoving hard and the Madfox is refusing to move! JS: Matthews knows what'll happen if he hits that corner. He knows the damage one of those mines can do. We all remember it burning the t-shirt clean off the body of Simon Ezra five years ago. And now- [Suddenly, Martinez gives up, taking a couple steps back to shake his head with a mixture of disbelief and admiration of his rival. Matthews slaps his hands together, nodding his head as he starts to circle his opponent.] JS: We've got ourselves a standoff here. Martinez couldn't push him around so he gave up and may be looking for a different strategy. Matthews held his ground but that had to take a lot out of him. He's not a power wrestler. He can't continue to match strength with Martinez. TM: The Madfox is circling him... looking for an opening... [And for some reason, dives back into the collar and elbow... ...and immediately gets shoved back into the steel mesh wall.] JS: And just like that, Martinez has him cornered. TM: This is exactly what Matthews needs to avoid, Steggs. [A brutal forearm shot crashes across the chest of the Madfox, causing him to grip the ring ropes to try and stay on his feet. Martinez rears back, driving the forearm into the chest again, taking Matthews down to a knee.] JS: Good lord. We've seen him hard thrown forearms over the past two days but when a seven footer is throwing them, you gain a whole new appreciation for how much a strike like that can hurt. TM: Matthews has to get away from this. He can't stand and take strikes like this from the big man. I'm sure the subtraction of Caleb Temple from this match changes his plans but he needs to stay on focus. He needs to realize the kind of match he needs to fight when he's going one on one with the Last American Badass. [With Matthews kneeling, Martinez hooks him by the hair and drives his forearm into the side of his face... and again... and again... and again. The crowd roars with a mixed reaction, some being angered by Martinez' vicious attacks on his former friend.] JS: The Madfox is out on his feet already... but Martinez is pulling him off the mat by the hair. A big whip... [Matthews hits the far ropes as Martinez walks a few feet away from the cage wall, snagging the Madfox by the hair as he rebounds... ...and _hurling_ him facefirst into the cage wall! Huge mixed pop!] JS: Ohhhh my! TM: Headfirst to the cage! That'll shake your cobwebs! [The former World Champion staggers from the ropes back to where Martinez is standing. He quickly grabs him by the hair again... and points to the barbed wire wall of the Box.] JS: Oh no. Oh my god. TM: We're gonna see blood in mere seconds! The Box at its' finest! [Martinez starts to race towards the wall, dragging Matthews with him... ...but as the big man attempts to throw him into the skin-tearing barbed wire, Matthews manages to drop down to the canvas, avoiding the throw.] JS: The Madfox counters! He felt it coming and he bailed to the canvas. If you're down on the mat, you can't be thrown into a barbed wire wall. TM: Truer words were never spoken. [But you can be pummeled by a three hundred pound monster.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Three bone-shaking forearms come pounding down across the back of Matthews' neck! Martinez makes him pay for bailing out of the whip to the cage. And now he yanks him back off the mat... to the nails?! TM: WHIP! [This time, the Madfox drops down into a baseball slide, stopping his momentum before he slams chestfirst into hundreds of skin-piercing spikes.] JS: Whew. Close call for Matthews. MARTINEZ! [The big man stampedes towards his rival, determined to make him pay again for the smart counter... ...and gets met with a drop toehold that takes him off his feet, plummeting towards the canvas... ...and raking his face on the bed of nails on the way down! Huge pop!] JS: OH MY GOD!! FACEFIRST TO THE BED OF NAILS!!! [Martinez cries out in pain on impact, reaching up to his face to discover three very nasty puncture marks with a trickle of blood coming from each.] TM: The Madfox draws first blood... luckily it's not that kind of match and we're going to keep going until one of these guys can't even stand up anymore. JS: Martinez' skin was ripped open by those spikes sticking out of that bed of nails. Those are some angry looking cuts too, Todd. TM: Not exactly what he was hoping to happen there, I'm sure. [Moving in on his former friend, Matthews pulls him up by the hair... and presses his face into the bed of nails! Another wail of pain escapes the Last American Badass as the nails puncture the side of his face again.] JS: Good lord! TM: Just think... these guys used to be friends. JS: You'd never do that to me, would you, Todd? TM: Depends if you ask me to hire your nephew for PWR. JS: MARK'S A GOOD BOY! TM: Make your wife's boss hire him down at the Pink Pit then. JS: Easy, Michaelson. You don't see me insulting your wife on Pay Per View. TM: Eh... I did it for years. [The Madfox continues to push on the back of Alex' head, the crowd roaring as Matthews screams for Barnes to "ask him!" Referee Mike Barnes is immediately on the scene, asking Martinez if he wants to submit.] JS: Do you think Alex Martinez would _ever_ submit? TM: I can't imagine it... but then again, I would have said the same thing about Brody Thunder about an hour ago. [Desperate to escape his punishing situation, Martinez lashes out backwards with an elbow that catches Matthews in the ribcage. A second one makes Matthews cradle his ribs, breaking the hold.] JS: Martinez is loose! He broke the grasp of his- [Grabbing the big man by the hair, Matthews drives a trio of kneestrikes into the skull, knocking Martinez' face back into the bed of nails.] JS: Ahhh! Right back to the nails! TM: Matthews is backing off... oh man, this is gonna hurt! [The Madfox charges across the ring, leaping into the air with a dropkick aimed at the back of Martinez' head... ...but it comes up empty, his feet slamming into the bed of nails instead!] TM: Too close. He tried to skewer Alex Martinez' face on those nails right there and instead... heh, it looks like he tore his boot. [Matthews climbs to his feet, looking at a chunk of rubber that was ripped from his boot by one of the nails.] JS: Goodness. Just imagine what those can do to someone's skin if they did that to his boot! Thank god Alex was able to move out of the way, Todd. TM: I know you and he have been friends for a long time. It must be a little hard for you to watch him in matches like this. JS: I'm pretty used to it. Alex is climbing back to his feet now, trying to get back on track. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: Ohh! But a hard chop turns him right around, putting his back against those nails again. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: The Madfox is wearing him out with those chops! Just wearing him out with them! [With his rival stunned, Matthews rears back and uncorks a forearm shot to the side of the face, almost knocking Martinez off his feet.] JS: Whoa! What a shot that was! TM: Jeff Matthews has come to fight, Steggs. He was always looked at as the underachiever. The guy who always came up a little bit short when it was crunch time. The Matthews Pay Per View Curse was a running joke... but it had some merit as well. But tonight, Matthews is looking to change all that in one match. If he can win here tonight, the crowning moment of his career... all that talk will go away. JS: Another hard forearm by Matthews has his former friend dazed... and Matthews climbs up to the middle rope! [The crowd, Pavlovian lapdogs that they are, count with each thrown right hand to the skull.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" [But before the beating can go any further, the Last American Badass reaches up and shoves Matthews down from his perch, sending him crashing down to the canvas with a big thud.] JS: Matthews gets tossed down, but he's quickly back to his fee- OHHHH! [The crowd groans in unison as Martinez connects with a big boot that flips Matthews inside out before dumping him down to the canvas in a heap! Huge mixed pop!] JS: Oh my! Big kick by the seven footer on Matthews! That'll turn the tide in this one. Talk about your momentum changers. TM: When you're the size of Martinez, almost anything you do is a momentum changer. JS: The big man drops down to the mat and he's rolling out to the floor. I'm not sure what he plans on doing out- [POP!] TM: CHAIR! JS: And this just got uglier. [The Last American Badass rolls back into the ring, steel chair in hand, and climbs back to his feet... waiting for Matthews to regain his feet off the big impact kick to the jaw.] JS: Martinez is back in... waiting... TM: Matthews is pushing himself back to his feet. He doesn't know what's waiting for him, Steggs. JS: If he did, I'm sure he'd stay down! TM: HE'S UP!!! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The mammoth chairshot finds a home on the skull of the Madfox, sending him falling back into the ropes near the chickenwire wall of the cage. His arms hook over the top rope, trying to keep him from falling to the canvas as Martinez stalks towards him.] JS: Martinez isn't done with that chair, Todd! He's moving in again! TM: You think Matthews can even move? If he can, he'd better get the hell out of town before he's knocked out five minutes into the damn match! I don't think he's ready for this, Steggs! JS: He winds up! [And the big man brings the chair rocketing down...] "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" JS: HE MISSED! HE MISSED! [The Madfox narrowly avoids the huge chairshot that ends up hitting the cage wall, forcing Martinez to drop the chair... ...which Matthews quickly scoops up into his hands.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [MASSIVE MIXED POP!] JS: TO THE KNEES!!! Matthews whacks him across the knees with the chair! Oh my god! [Martinez immediately falls to the canvas, reaching down for his knees as the Madfox raises the chair again.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" JS: DOWN ACROSS THE KNEES AGAIN! TM: Matthews is trying to soften up the knees. Trying to take the big man off his feet... and he may be thinking about the Foxtrap already. JS: Another thought would be that if Martinez can't stand on those legs, he can't beat a ten count to his feet. Alex Martinez went into semi-retirement partially because of injuries to those knees. TM: Something that a best friend would almost certainly know. JS: Indeed. He tosses the chair aside now, thank goodness for Alex' sake. [But he reaches down to grab Martinez' foot, twisting the leg around his own.] JS: Spinning toehold! He's going after the knee, trying to break it down as much as he can. This is a prelude to the Foxtrap... the figure four leglock that Matthews is a master of. [The Madfox leans over, applying maximum pressure to the leg... and gets cracked upside the head with a right hand that forces him off the leg, knocking him back towards the chickenwire.] JS: Martinez pushes himself back to his feet, heading over towards Matthews. TM: He's got a bad limp going already, Steggs. That knee's in pretty bad shape it looks like. He'd better be careful in there. He needs to keep Matthews away from it. JS: The big man's stalking towards- OHHHH! [The crowd groans with Stegglet as Matthews hurls his body at the knee, taking the giant back down to the canvas, screaming in pain.] JS: Oh my! Matthews just took the knee out from under him with that clip. He clipped the knee and Martinez is hurting bad, Todd. TM: He is... and I don't like the looks of what Jeff Matthews has in store for him. He's grabbing that chair again... [A buzz starts from the crowd as Matthews lifts the chair high... ...and _drives_ the edge of the seatback into the knee joint! Huge mixed pop!] JS: Oh... god. TM: Martinez is screaming in pain with every shot to those knees. Did he not think Matthews would go for them? Temple too, for that matter. If Temple were in this match, he would know. He would go straight for those knees too. I don't know if Alex is in the proper shape for this match, Steggs. I don't know if he should even be fighting here tonight. [Matthews firmly puts his foot on Martinez' ankle, pinning his leg to the canvas... ...and then drives the chair down into the knee again!] JS: Egads! [The Madfox glares down at Martinez and then yells to Barnes.] JS: He wants the ref to ask him. Will Martinez give up? I can't imagine it happening but he's obviously in a tremendous amount of pain. TM: Barnes asks him. [The Last American Badass shakes his head violently, refusing to quit.] JS: He says no! He won't giv- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: The chair to the knee again! The edge of that damn chair is driven into Alex' knee by the Madfox! TM: And again, he tells Barnes to ask him. [The senior official makes another request of Martinez to submit.] "Fuuuuuck! NOOOOOO!" [The crowd roars for Martinez' guts... and the roars in a mixed pop as Matthews drives the chair down into the knee again.] JS: Again! To the knee again! Jeff Matthews is trying to do more than win this match, Todd. It looks like he's trying to end his former friend's career! TM: Matthews used to be very infamous in wrestling as a guy who took people out of the business. Men like Seishuki... like Kevin Slater... like Eddie Van Gibson at one point. He may be looking to do the same to his former friend right here tonight in their final encounter. JS: He opens the chair up, setting it down on the mat now. [Reaching down, he yanks Martinez up by the hair and then reaches down to cradle the leg. He hoists Alex into the air... ...and brings his knee crashing down across the metal chairseat! HUUUUGE MIXED POP!] JS: OHHH MY! Shinbreaker on the chair! My god, Martinez is just in horrific pain. I don't know that I've ever heard him scream in agony in a match like he is right now. TM: Matthews is focused. He knows he needs to hurt him bad to finish this. He needs to do major damage if he wants to end this match... this war. [Still holding the leg, he switches his grip... ...and whips him down to the canvas with it, twisting the knee as he does so.] JS: DRAGON SCREW!! This is terrible. TM: And if the knee wasn't hurt bad enough before, that dragon screw must have done the trick. [Quickly regaining his feet, Matthews twists the leg, going for the figure four leglock.] JS: FOXTRA- [Martinez desperately attempts to avoid the leglock, kicking Matthews off of him... ...and chestfirst into the bed of barbed wire! HUGE POP!] JS: OHHHHH MY GOD!!! TM: Martinez kicks him into the barbed wire! Jeff Matthews' chest and entire upper body just slammed into the bed of barbed wire... and that's going to do some major damage, Steggs. Martinez knew he had to do something and he damn sure just did. JS: The figure four was coming... and now Jeff Matthews is lying chestfirst against the barbed wire. Look at his face... my god, what pain he must be in. TM: This isn't a match for kids... this isn't something for the weak at heart. You have to be a warrior to step into the Killing Box. Simon Ezra, Caleb Temple, Tiger Claw, Casey James, Jeff Matthews, Alex Martinez. That's it, Stegglet. Six men in the history of this sport were man enough to stand and fight in the most dangerous structure ever to be created. If you step into the Box and survive... you _are_ a legend. JS: Alex is trying to get up... he can barely use that leg right now. He's using his arms to power himself off the floor... not even putting weight on that injured leg. [The Last American Badass hobbles towards the stunned and hurting Matthews. He grabs him by the hair, pulling him out of the corner.] JS: Look at his chest! My god, look at his arms, Todd! [The crowd gasps in shock as a ton of small cuts are seen all over the arms and chest of the Madfox just before Martinez manages to hoist Matthews into the air... standing on only one leg... ...and brings him crashing down to the mat! Big pop!] JS: Whoa! One-legged belly to back suplex! Look at the power and resiliency of Martinez. The mental toughness involved in forcing out the pain and standing on one leg to suplex someone to the mat. Martinez with an incredible show of- [And as the big man climbs up to his good knee, looking down on his injured rival... ...the lights go out.] JS: What the-?! TM: Aw hell. JS: I've got a bad feeling about this. TM: If the J*STAR Festival lives up to the E's legacy, we know one thing when the lights go out... bad shit's about to go down. [The crowd buzzes wildly, flashbulbs popping in an attempt to catch something going down in the dark. And then? A voice rings out.] "Come home... she said. Come home." [A huge roar goes up for the very familiar Southern drawl of the most diabolical man to ever step foot in a wrestling ring... the most evil sumbitch any of you have ever seen... the original King of the Death Match... and the devil himself.] "Daddy's Home now, baby... Daddy's Home." [And with that, the lights come on... ...and Caleb Temple is amongst us. He stands in the middle of the ring, right behind Alex Martinez with one hand raised in the air. It wields a fork. And bad intentions.] JS: CALEB TEMPLE IS HERE!! CALEB TEMPLE HAS... TM: Oh god. JS: My god, he's come home! This is it, Todd! This is what he was talking about! We thought he was going to Rhoni and Truth! We thought he was going to the Church! We were all wrong! TM: This... this is home? JS: To a man like Caleb Temple... could it be anything else? [Temple cracks a sick grin... and clicks his heels together three times as Alex Martinez slowly turns around... ...and is greeted with a metal fork being jabbed into his skull, knocking the big man down to the canvas with blood now oozing from a quartet of puncture wounds on his forehead.] JS: Alex is down! Alex Martinez' head has been busted open by the King of the Death Match! Caleb Temple has arrived and has done so in shocking fashion. TM: This completely changes this match, Steggs. Completely! JS: He's dragging Matthews off the mat. [The Madfox is pulled to a seated position... and Temple pushes the fork down into his forehead as well.] JS: AHHHH! The fork! The fork is digging into the skin of Jeff Matthews! TM: Temple came to the battle armed for one hell of a fight and he's taking that fight to both men. If they thought this was going to be a match of spinning toeholds, they were sadly mistaken. Caleb Temple turns this into a fight... a street fight with no rules, no honor, and no respect for human life. JS: He's ripping Matthews open with the fork! We've got blood pouring down the face of Martinez already and now the Madfox is experiencing the same thing. His skin is being torn apart by that damn fork! [Temple pulls the fork up, tucking it into his belt as he grabs the nearby discarded chair. He leaps into the air, tucking the chair under his legs... ...and brings it crashing down across the face of Martinez!] JS: ARABIAN FACEBUSTER!! [Fired up, Temple springs back to his feet, leaps into the air again and tucks the chair.] JS: AND ONE ON MATTHEWS! Caleb Temple is laying waste to both of these men right now! He came in late to the match. He comes in fresh as a surprise to both men and is taking full advantage of that right now! [The crowd erupts into jeers as Temple climbs to his feet, spreading his arms wide and looking out over the roaring Staples Center crowd.] JS: There's no place like home indeed. TM: Temple's looking down on them. That sick son of a bitch has done some major damage here and he's gloating about it. He needs to keep his mind on the match and not try to rub it in. JS: Fans, we apologize in advance for Todd if he sounds a little bitter towards Caleb Temple but- TM: But I've got good fucking reason to. JS: Indeed. For those unaware, in Pro Wrestling Revolution a couple months ago, we saw Caleb Temple assault Todd's wife, Lori Dane, with a fireball... badly burning her in the process. TM: Let's not talk about this, Stegglet. Let's focus on the match and not give this sick fuck the pleasure of spreading his legend any more. JS: Your call, my friend. [Reaching down, Temple pulls Matthews off the canvas, firing him into the ropes.] JS: Matthews off the ropes... ohhh! Big clothesline by Temple! And now he turns back to Martinez who is starting to stir. Oh man... look at the blood flowing down the head of the big man. He already had blood on his face from those nails and the fork just made it a hell of a lot worse. [A bloody Martinez staggers to his feet as Temple approaches.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [A big chop across the chest causes Martinez to fall back into the plexiglass side of the Box, still lifting his leg off the mat to try and keep pressure off of it.] JS: Caleb's grinning at Martinez. He just noticed the knee, I think. [With a wide smirk on his face, Temple races to the far ropes, rebounding back.] JS: Here he comes! [But as he approaches, Martinez steps away from the wall, scooping Temple into the air by the upper thighs... ...and falling backwards, _driving_ Temple facefirst into the plexiglass! MASSIVE POP!] JS: OH MY!! FACEFIRST TO THAT HARD PLASTIC!!! TM: It's extremely hard, Stegglet. You don't realize how hard that stuff is until you hit it. I hit it earlier with a forearm shot and thought I'd broken my damn arm. JS: Caleb Temple's face slammed into the plastic... he may have a broken cheekbone... maybe a nose... [Martinez pushes Temple down to the mat, waving for Barnes to start a ten count. The big man leans against the plexiglass, shaking his leg to loosen it up as Barnes begins.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" [But before he can go any further, the King of the Death Match uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet... and promptly spits a wad of blood in the direction of the Last American Badass, waving him to bring more.] JS: Ugh. What a disturbing individual he is! [Martinez starts to move in on Temple... and then notices Jeff Matthews up on his feet as well. The Last American Badass pauses... glaring at Matthews... ...who points at Temple! Huge pop!] JS: Uh oh! Are they going to work together?! TM: Caleb Temple's a dead man! Just the way I like him! [Matthews and Martinez rush Temple in unison.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The crowd roars as a stiff double chop knocks Temple back against the plexiglass, clutching his own chest. The duo grabs him by the arms, firing him across the ring.] JS: Temple off the far side... BACKDROP!! [Cheers go up as the former friends work together to backdrop Temple down to the canvas... and then get louder as Martinez rolls Temple into a camel clutch, pushing the steel chair against his face as Matthews hits the ropes...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: LOW DROPKICK BY MATTHEWS! He kicked the damn chair _right_ into Temple's face! Great teamwork on display by the former allies, Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez. TM: But how long can this teamwork last? Sooner or later, they have to remember why they're there. The last man standing wins this match and there's no ties allowed. Sooner or later, they have to go after each other again. JS: I don't think Alex Martinez will forget that... not as long as he's limping around the ring. But right now, they're working together and- where's he going? [The crowd buzzes as Martinez steps up to the middle rope, gesturing for Matthews to pick Temple up.] JS: Oh my god. TM: Matthews hooks him... he lifts! [And with Temple prone in piledriver position, Martinez leaps from the ropes, pushing down on the feet.] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [MASSIVE POP!] JS: SPIKE PILEDRIVER!! SPIKE PILEDRIVER ON TEMPLE!!! [And together, the duo begins stomping the hell out of him, bringing the crowd to their feet, roaring their support for both men.] JS: What a moment! I'd pay to see this happen to Caleb Temple on a daily basis, Todd Michaelson. TM: Hrm... PWR may be able to arrange that. JS: Martinez pulls Temple off the mat... and into a standing headscissors. [The cheers grow louder as Martinez points to the plexiglass.] JS: He's gonna powerbomb him into the plexiglass?! TM: That'll be great! Do it a few times! [The Last American Badass hoists Temple off the canvas, slipping him into a crucifix powerbomb position... ...and charges towards the plexiglass!] JS: POWERBOMMMMM- [But before he can hit the hard plastic, Temple slips free of Martinez' grip, landing on the canvas behind him... ...and promptly bringing his forearm up into the groin of the seven footer! Huge heel pop!] JS: Oh come on! TM: What? You want a DQ? JS: Well, no... but dammit, that's not right! [With Martinez doubled over and Matthews slow to respond, Temple snares a front facelock... ...and _spikes_ the big man headfirst into the canvas with a DDT!] JS: Oh! DDT by Temple! That'll turn Martinez' lights out for a bit and it'll give Caleb Temple a chance to recover. TM: Not necessarily. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [A huge ovation erupts for the barrage of knife-edge chops that sends Temple falling back towards the plexiglass.] JS: Matthews is on the attack! The Madfox is on the attack! Big chops staggering Caleb Temple... ohh! A hard forearm to the side of the face knocks Temple backwards as well! [Matthews quickly grabs Temple by the arm, whipping him towards the barbed wire wall.] JS: Irish whi- no! REVERSAL!!! "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: MATTHEWS TO THE BARBED WIRE!! MY GOD, JEFF MATTHEWS TO THE BARBED WIRE! [The crowd roars as Matthews goes flying into the air from the whip, slamming backfirst into the skin-tearing metal.] JS: His back is cut by the barbed wire! And the barbed wire in this match has been no friend to Jeff Matthews in this match. He was slashed open by the bed of barbed wire on his chest and arms earlier... now his back is cut up by the barbed wire wall. TM: Caleb Temple is so dangerous in a match like this. His entire career has been sent in battles with barbed wire... with chairs... with tables... with glass... with... whatever else. You get him in an environment like this and he may be the most dangerous man in our sport. JS: Where the hell is he going now? [The King of the Death Match rolls under the ropes on the vacant side of the ring near the ramp to the floor. He immediately begins digging under the ring apron, looking for his next weapon of choice... ...and pulling it into view.] TM: TABLE! JS: Oh lord. [But instead of taking it back into the ring, Temple sets it up out on the concrete floor near the ramp.] JS: He's setting it up on the floor... what the hell? TM: He's got Martinez by the foot, dragging him out to the floor... and he's shoving him up on the table! There's not a lot of room to work with there because of the ramp but... well, apparently he thinks there's enough. [With the Last American Badass tabled, Temple climbs up on the apron and starts towards the corner where he can climb the ropes.] JS: Temple's heading up. This can't be good for Martinez... this is gonna be- [Pop!] JS: Matthews cuts him off! Big right hand by the Madfox! And another! And another! Matthews is pummeling Temple from inside the ring. [And with Temple's attack delayed, Martinez manages to slide off the table and up onto the ring apron as welll where he joins Matthews in pounding Caleb Temple.] JS: Yeah! They're beating the hell out of Temple on the apron! Both men are pounding him into the mat and- [The crowd groans as Temple jabs a thumb into the eye of Martinez, staggering him. He turns his attention to the Madfox... who is sprinting across the ring to the far ropes.] JS: MATTHEWS! TM: What the-?! [The Madfox, sprinting across the ring, hurls his body into the air into both Temple and... accidentally?... Martinez.] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: OHHHHHH MY!!! TM: Through the table! Matthews knocked them both through the damn table! Did he mean to do that to Martinez?! JS: I don't know, Todd. But that may put an end to any partnership they were going to have in this match! [Matthews certainly looks a little annoyed with himself as he sees Martinez lying in the wreckage of the table... but he ignores him as he slides to the floor, instead rolling Temple back into the ring before climbing back up on the apron.] JS: And now it's the Madfox who wants to fly! Jeff Matthews is climbing that corner... looking down at the stunned King of the Death Match. TM: This is a high risk move for a match like this. A big missed dive combined with a hard weapon shot could end it all in a hurry, Steggs. JS: Matthews is up! He's gonna fly! [And the Madfox hurls himself into the air, pumping his arms and legs... ...and _crashing_ down across the chest of his blood enemy! Massive pop!] JS: FROG SPLASH! FROG SPLASH! [Matthews rolls off of Temple, leaning against the plexiglass wall... and gestures for Barnes to count Temple down.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" [But no more as Temple sits up... ...and gets kicked _hard_ in the face, laying him back down on the canvas as Matthews grabs the discarded steel chair off the mat.] JS: He's got the chair... leaps! [And tucks it under his legs before bringing it all down across the face of the Trinity native.] JS: ARABIAN FACEBUSTER!! My god! That chair was _driven_ into Temple's damn skull! [Matthews rolls away again, waving for the count to restart.] TM: Jeff Matthews really looks like he wants to end this match. Much like Joe Petrow in our last match... we may be seeing that ring rust and layoff hitting him. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" [And again, Caleb Temple sits up... and again he's kicked in the face.] JS: Jesus. TM: Far from it. JS: Heh. Jeff Matthews is on a mission tonight, Todd. I don't know that I've seen him this focused since that match he had with Caleb Temple at No Imitations Accepted a few years back. TM: What a fantastic match that was. JS: Matthews has the chair again... opening it up now near the ropes... TM: Matthews is about to take to the air again. He's channeling that period in his life when he _was_ Caleb Temple. JS: I've talked to Jeff about that before... what a dark time it was for him. I really think it caused permanent damage to his psyche to have to _be_ this sick creature for so long. TM: It's truly bizarre. Someday I hope we can get Jeff in an interview to talk about that period. Frightening stuff. [Matthews stomps Temple again, making sure he stays on the canvas before charging to the ropes.] JS: The Madfox to the far side... [As he rebounds, he springs off the chair to the top rope... ...and stops.] JS: What the hell? TM: I think he was going for the moonsault on Temple... but Alex Martinez is getting to his feet. It's a moment of decision for Jeff Matthews, Steggs. What does he do?! Who does he go after?! Who does- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The crowd erupts in a mixture of thrill and shock as Matthews hurls himself from the top rope in a somersault... ...right onto the Last American Badass!] JS: My god! Jeff Matthews chose Alex Martinez! He had a choice... a choice on who to assault and he picked Martinez over Temple! TM: I'm sure there's a reason. He probably wanted to keep Martinez out of it while he punishes Temple. Or maybe he wants to prevent Alex from coming after him for knocking him through the table. JS: That was an accident! TM: Was it? JS: I... think. [Dragging himself off the canvas, Temple charges towards the chair, springing off to the top rope... ...and hurling himself into a moonsault onto both Matthews and Martinez as they slowly get back to their feet! MASSIVE MIXED POP!] JS: TEMPLE GOES TO THE AIR!!! A suicidal dive by Caleb Temple and he takes out both of his opponents in the process. Jeff Matthews is down. Alex Martinez is down. And... [And Caleb Temple is on his fucking feet, arms spread wide as the fans jeer his every move.] JS: Caleb Temple is the most hated man in this building tonight. TM: Considering some of the people we've seen here, that's saying something. JS: Indeed. Wrestling fans have long memories and they will never forget the path of terror that Temple cut through the wrestling world in the path. How many lives did he ruin? How many careers did he end? This man is a menace to the wrestling world and these fans won't ever forget it. [Temple reaches down, pulling his age-old rival off the floor and dragging him to the barbed wire side of the Box... ...then slams him facefirst into the barbed wire! Huge heel pop!] JS: AHHHH! He's dragging Matthews' face across the barbed wire! Back and forth... back and forth! TM: Again, it's barbed wire giving Matthews nightmares tonight. He's been sliced open so many times and so many ways by that skin-tearing metal. He'll never want to see a piece of barbed wire again after this night. [Grabbing Matthews by the blood-soaked hair, Temple _hurls_ him headfirst into the steel railing, sending the Madfox down to the cold concrete in a motionless heap.] JS: OHHHH! Matthews is down... and now Temple is turning his attention to Alex Martinez. He knows the Madfox will probably be down for a little while from going headfirst to the metal railing. TM: If he can work over Alex enough, this would be a good chance to get him out of the match. Temple may need to divide and conquer to get an elimination in this one. [Martinez is up to a knee as Temple approaches him, pulling him the rest of the way up and hurling him back into the ring.] JS: Alex is back in now... and Temple's got another chair! What's he-?! Oh no. TM: He's got the chair and he's climbing the ropes with it! Alex Martinez needs to get the hell of the mat, Steggs. JS: Get up, Alex! Come on! [Temple reaches the peak of the ropes, looking down at a prone Martinez.] JS: HE LEAPS!! [In mid-leap, he tucks the steel chair under his legs...] JS: ARAAAAAABIANNNNN!!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JS: HE MISSED! HE MISSED THE FACEBUSTER!!! [Temple's face fills with anguish as he reaches under his ass to cradle his... well, his ass.] TM: You could break a tailbone like that... and hopefully the son of a bitch did! JS: Take it easy, Todd. [Grimacing as he puts weight on his injured knee, Martinez climbs up to his feet as Temple does the same... ...and _hurls_ himself into a spear tackle that knocks Temple backwards. Into the bed of glass. MASSIVE POP!] JS: SWEEEET JESUS! TM: To the glass! His back goes crashing into that broken glass! Oh my god! [Temple staggers away from the board covered with broken glass, his back slashed in several places.] JS: Temple's in trouble... Alex is up... boot to the gut! [Martinez pulls Temple into a standing headscissors, hoisting him up... taking two steps... ...and _hurling_ him into the plexiglass, the back of Temple's head and neck slamming into the rockhard plastic! MASSIVE POP!] JS: My god! My god in heaven! TM: A whiplash-like effect by hitting that plexiglass... and Caleb Temple's not looking too good, Steggs. He looks like he's out cold. [An angry Last American Badass pulls Temple off the canvas, pulling hard because of Temple's dead weight, and drags him over to the corner with the bed of nails.] JS: Oh my god. TM: Alex is taking him on a tour of the Four Corners Of Hell! [He pulls Temple into position for another powerbomb... but this time, Temple drops down to a knee, desperate to avoid it.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: EEEEEGADS! Martinez laying a world class beating on the back of Temple's neck. He wants to snap him in half here tonight. This is years of frustration boiling over onto Caleb Temple. It was Temple who stole the World Title from Martinez... almost literally. TM: And it was Temple who stole the wife from Martinez... literally. JS: Unfortunately, yes. The lovely young lady we knew as Veronica Westerly all those years... something... well, something vile happened to her. Her mind was warped by this beast of a man and... well, we all know the rest. [Martinez pulls him back to his feet into another powerbomb setup.] JS: HE LIFTS!!! [But as he gets hoisted up, the King of the Death Match fights back, pounding Martinez with clenched fists to the skull, knocking him off balance and down to the mat.] JS: Oh... so close. He barely avoided it, Todd. He was going for a hard ride into the bed of nails but somehow he got free in time. Martinez would have put him _through_ the damn bed of nails. TM: Temple's dipping into the boot... fork! He's got the fork again! [And as Martinez regains his wobbly footing, Temple charges towards him.] JS: TEMPLE! [But before he can drive the fork home again, Martinez lashes out with another big boot that connects right under the jaw of Caleb Temple, knocking him down to the canvas.] JS: YEAH! Alex lays him out! Temple was coming with the fork and Alex made him pay the price. And now... [DEAFENING POP!] JS: AND NOW, ALEX HAS THE DAMN FORK!!! [Grabbing Temple by the hair, Martinez tugs him into a sitting position... ...and _drives_ the fork into his forehead, ripping the skin open and starting a flow of crimson down the face of the Trinity native.] TM: We've got more blood! The crimson is flowing like wine tonight, baby! JS: Blood pouring down the head of Temple... ahhh! Martinez drives the fork into the head again! He's trying to bleed the son of a bitch dry! This is his final chance to get the payback he's wanted for so damn long... for _so_ damn long. Alex wants this son of a bitch to leave on a stretcher tonight. TM: Or maybe in a bodybag. JS: Damn right. And if anyone has a reason to want Caleb Temple to be _finished_ for good, it's these two men. TM: Ahem. JS: You've got a strong case too, amigo. [Martinez tucks the fork into his own tights, pulling the newly-bloodied Temple up by the hair... ...and slamming him facefirst into the plexiglass!] JS: OHHHH! Into the plexiglass! TM: A bloody smear left behind by the head of the former World Champion. Hell, all of these men are former World Champions. [An irate Martinez pulls Temple back by the hair, screaming at him.] "WAS SHE WORTH IT?! WAS SHE WORTH IT, YOU SICK FUCK?! [And then _drives_ Temple's face into the plexiglass again!] JS: Oh my god. A bloody streak... it's like Temple marking his territory on the wall. [Martinez screams at him again.] "SHE DESERVED BETTER, YOU FUCKIN' JUNKIE!" [Again to the wall.] JS: Things are getting very personal in there. TM: More personal than Temple fucking Martinez' wife? JS: TODD! TM: Just checking. [One more time.] "And Truth? Your kid?! WHAT ABOUT HER?!" [Face to the wall one more time. Temple's head slides down after the impact, leaving a crimson streak on the clear plexiglass.] JS: My god. TM: Alex Martinez is venting. All that rage bottled up is being released right here tonight. JS: He pulls Caleb up... up on the shoulder! TM: Oh my god. He's gonna drive his head into the plexiglass! He's gonna break Temple's damn skull wide open. We've always asked what the hell kind of brain would do the shit he does... and we're about to see it! [The Last American Badass takes a few steps back... ...then stumbles forward.] JS: HE CHARGES! [But Temple manages to slip off the shoulder of his hated rival before his skull is slammed into the plastic.] JS: Temple escapes! He slipped loose! [As Martinez spins to face him, Temple leaps into the air, snaring Martinez' head between his legs.] JS: RANA! TEMPLE WITH A- [HUGE POP!] JS: ALEX BLOCKS! HE BLOCKED IT AND- [And with Temple held high in the air, Martinez pivots...] "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" [EARTHSHATTERING POP!] "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" [The crowd continues to roar as smoke pours up behind the back of the anguished King of the Death Match, the smell of charred flesh in the air.] JS: Dear god in heaven! TM: Say a prayer for Caleb Temple because I think his night may be over! JS: Alex countered the rana into a powerbomb... and that powerbomb was into one of those damn landmines in the corner! Temple's back and neck _slammed_ into the landmine... and dear god, what happened next is nothing short of sickening. TM: A flash of fire... smoke... and ugh... that damn smell. JS: Caleb Temple did not wear a shirt to the ring, much like his opponents... so that explosion was on his bare flesh, Todd Michaelson. And I have no earthly idea what that feels like... but from the look on Temple's bloodied face, I can take a guess. TM: I haven't even taken one of those, Steggs. I can't imagine how that feels either. It must be like... like your back being lit on fire and then put out with a vat of acid. JS: Erm... vivid description. TM: I try. [Alex Martinez, having collapsed from the effort behind the powerbomb, climbs back to his feet, still unable to put weight on the injured knee. He looks down at the pain-ravaged face of Caleb Temple and cracks a bloody grin... ...not noticing Jeff Matthews rolling into the ring. With a light tube in his hand.] JS: Oh my god! The Madfox is armed! [Martinez doesn't ever see it coming as Matthews winds up... ...and _shatters_ the light tube over the back of Martinez' head, taking the giant down to his knees with one shot.] JS: OHHHHH MY! Right to the back of the head! TM: Look at the damn carnage in this ring. This is why the Killing Box is the most infamous... the most feared match in the history of our sport. And this is exactly why this match is being sealed forever after tonight. JS: I'm not sure anyone would want to get in it after tonight anyways. TM: That's what they said when Casey lost the finger. JS: Ick. Don't remind me of that. [With Martinez on his knees, Matthews jabs an end of the broken light tube into the forehead of his former friend, bringing a wail of pain into the Staples Center crowd.] JS: Ahhhh! Right to the skin... shredding the damn flesh like it was paper! [Martinez brings his hands up, trying to fight Matthews off... so the Madfox pulls back... ...and breaks the rest of the tube over Martinez' skull! HUGE POP!] JS: Dear...god. TM: Martinez is a bloody mess... hell, they all are! [The Last American Badass slumps down to the canvas, lying flat on his back... and crying out as Matthews viciously stomps the injured knee.] JS: And after all this bloodloss... after all this chaos... Jeff Matthews goes back to the original attack plan. He's going back after the damn knee! TM: FIGURE FOUR!! [Matthews attempts to quickly apply the Foxtrap, hoping to get it on before Martinez can counter... ...but gets rolled up in a small package instead!] JS: Small pack- wait, there's no pinfalls. TM: But it's a counter to get out of the figure four nonetheless, Steggs. There may not be any pins in this match but by using the inside cradle, he gets out of the figure four. [The two men race to their feet, both reaching at the same time.] JS: Both men up and- ohhh! Big forearm by Matthews! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The crowd roars as Martinez returns the favor, knocking the Madfox back a couple feet... ...but Matthews springs back towards him, blasting Martinez with a shot of his own! Big pop!] JS: They're trading forearms! And this isn't a good- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" JS: My god! What a shot by Martinez! [Fire fills the eyes of Matthews as he slaps the mat with both hands and flings himself at the Last American Badass.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The fans are whipped into a frenzy as a barrage of forearms send Martinez into the ropes on the empty side of the ring. The Madfox, sensing the chance to take a big advantage, hits the far ropes.] JS: HERE HE COMES!!! [And connects with a big running clothesline that takes both men over the ropes, crashing down to the wooden ramp with a big thud!] JS: BOTH MEN TO THE RAMP!! OHHH MY!!! [The camera pans over the entirety of the Killing Box. We see Caleb Temple still lying facefirst on the canvas, his back charred black in some places... bright pink and red in others where the skin was ripped clean off. There's broken glass... dented chairs... shattered tables. And on the wooden ramp leading to the ring, we see the Madfox and the Last American Badass slowly getting to their feet, barely able to stand and fight on their own.] JS: They're on their feet... how on earth can they- ohhh! Forearm shot by Martinez! TM: Again? Alex hasn't had much luck trading forearms tonight. [Matthews looks to return the favor but Martinez slips a knee up into the midsection of his opponent... and pulls him into a standing headscissors.] JS: What the-?! A powerbomb on the ramp?! [But suddenly, Martinez moves closer to the edge of the ramp.] TM: Uhhh... I'd say _off_ the ramp. JS: Oh holy hell. This is going too far, Todd. As the promoter of this event, you've gotta be concerned about what we're seeing. TM: Of course I am. I'm concerned about the health of all three of these guys... [The camera zooms in on Temple starting to climb to his feet.] TM: ...well, not so much him. But the other two? Definitely. But I also know they wanted this match. They wanted one more night to shine in the most dangerous match we've ever seen... and I'm not going to deprive them of that, Steggs. JS: Temple's pulling himself to his feet... dear god, look at his back. [Martinez, having sucked up enough air to try, attempts a lift... ...but the Madfox drops down to a knee.] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [A trio of brutal forearms to the back allow Martinez to pull Matthews into position yet again.] JS: He's going for it again! I can't believe he'd do this to a former best friend but I guess all that is out the window. TM: Don't discount the opportunity to win the main event of the biggest event this sport has seen in quite some time, Steggs. Anyone would be a fool to not do whatever it takes to do that. JS: Martinez has him set... he lift- no! NOOOOOO!!! [The crowd _erupts_ as Matthews stands up, backdropping his former best friend off the elevated rampway and causing him to crash down hard on the concrete floor below! Huge mixed pop!] JS: My god! My god in heaven! TM: Jeff Matthews knew what he had to do there... he did exactly what he needed to do for self-preservation, Steggs. He throws him off the apron and- [Without warning, Temple charges across the ring, hurling himself over the ropes with a somersault onto a surprised Jeff Matthews! Another huge mixed pop!] JS: And now Caleb Temple's getting back into this! He got a chance to breathe... a chance to recover a bit from the landmine powerbomb... and now he's going right back to the damn fight, Todd! [Temple quickly pulls Matthews off the ramp... and throws him off onto the concrete floor as well! HUGE HEEL POP!] JS: What the hell?! We've got bodies all over the floor and- TM: Where the hell is this maniac going? [Hopping off the ramp on the other side, Temple approaches the steel mesh side of the ring... ...and starts climbing it.] JS: Oh dear god. TM: Somebody stop him. This psychopath is climbing the damn cage and he's not doing it for fun. He's heading for the damn glass roof of this thing! He's heading for the roof of the Killing Box! [The camera zooms in on Matthews and Martinez just a couple feet away from each other. Both men are moving slightly... but blissfully unaware of the third member of their party.] JS: Caleb Temple is halfway up there. What on earth could he be thinking? Is he gonna try and get Matthews or Martinez to climb up there with him? TM: I have no idea what he's thinking... and lord knows, I don't _want_ to know. This guy is a sick and twisted fuck and I have no desire to- JS: HE'S ON TOP OF THE BOX!!! [The maniacal King of the Death Match walks across the sparkling glass roof of the Killing Box, arms spread wide to soak up the jeers of the capacity crowd... the jeers mixed with a nervous buzz as the thousands on hand wonder exactly what the hell he's planning on doing as well.] JS: Caleb Temple is all alone, looking down on the rest of the world. [He steps to the edge of the roof, looking down on the Madfox and the Last American Badass... both slowly climbing back to their feet.] JS: Oh dear god. TM: He can't be thinking of doing that, Steggs. He just can't. JS: I don't... my god... somebody needs to- what? What can we do?! [Temple cracks a wide grin, his arms spread wide, his head tossed back... enjoying the moment.] JS: What the hell is going on? I don't even... I can't watch! [As his two enemies climb to their feet, Caleb Temple does the unthinkable. With his eyes closed and head back, Caleb Temple swan dives from the roof of the Killing Box... Sailing through the air... Plummeting through a sea of flash bulbs... Rocketing down...down...down... And finally, after an eternity... ...he makes impact, wiping out his two archenemies with the damndest dive anyone could imagine!] "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" [The crowd roars its' approval of the daredevil... the suicidal moment having come to pass. Caleb Temple lies motionless on the floor for a bit... seemingly more to enjoy the moment than out of any kind of pain. Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez are just a few feet away, unmoving as well.] JS: ... TM: You said it. JS: Really. What could you possibly say after that? TM: Caleb Temple is a fucking loon? JS: Well, yeah. But anything less obvious? TM: Caleb Temple is a _major_ fucking loon? JS: Worked for that one, didya? [And somehow... someway... beyond all reason... beyond all expectations... ...the major fucking loon gets to his feet first to a surprising standing ovation from the Staples Center crowd.] JS: Caleb Temple... dear god in heaven... is on his damn feet. TM: He's bulletproof. Absolutely bulletproof. You could throw him off a damn building and he'd pop up and fuck your sister before eating your cat's spleen and saying The Cure's Robert Smith is a motherfucking god of humanity. JS: ... TM: What? JS: I... worry about you sometimes, buddy. [Reaching down, Temple peels Matthews off the floor, rolling him back into the ring where he rolls in right behind him.] JS: Temple and Matthews back in the ring... and this may be just a formality, Todd. Something high impact here may eliminate the Madfox. TM: Or... he could try and eat Matthews' spleen! JS: What's with the spleens?! [Grabbing Matthews' feet, the crowd roars as they realize what Temple intends to do.] JS: HE'S GOING FOR THE LAST RITES!! HE'S GOING FOR- [DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: LAST RITES! HE SLAPS ON THE LAST RITES!!! [Matthews immediately screams out in agony as Temple pulls back in the scorpion deathlock, torturing the legs and back of the Madfox. And for a little insult to injury, he talks to him.] "Come on, Jeff! End it for Debbie's sake! You think she wants a paraplegic for a husband?!" [The Madfox, enraged at Temple speaking his wife's name, tries to do a pushup to break the hold... but is unable to do so as Temple leans back further.] "Scream for me, Jeff... tell me you quit... tell the world you quit!" [More cries of pain from Matthews... but no submission.] "I told you, Jeff... I told you I'd come back for you." [Temple is so preoccupied with laying the badmouth on Jeff Matthews, he fails to notice a very large pissed-off Last American Badass sliding back into the ring and climbing to his feet.] "Damn it, Jeff! Why won't you just di- AH!" [The King of the Death Match's words are cut off by the Last American Badass reaching out and wrapping both of his mammoth hands around his throat.] JS: DOUBLE CHOKE!! HE LIFTS!!! [The crowd _erupts_ as Martinez turns, preparing to plant Temple six feet under with a Firebomb... ...but a thumb jabbed to the eye breaks up the Firebomb. Temple immediately hits the ropes as Martinez staggers back near the ramp.] JS: HERE HE COMES!! "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" JS: BACKDROP TO THE FLOOR!! BACKDROP TO THE FLOOR!! [But Temple somehow manages to get his legs underneath him as he hits the floor, not taking the full brunt of the fall. Nevertheless, he turns his attention to under the ring apron as Martinez pulls the injured Madfox off the canvas... ...and into a standing headscissors.] JS: He's got him hooked! LIFT!!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JS: POWERBOMB! POWERBOMB! [Martinez staggers back, leaning against the plexiglass wall and waving for the referee to start a count on his former friend.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" [The Madfox crawls to his feet, breaking the ten count... ...and immediately getting pulled into another standing headscissors.] JS: He barely beat the ten count this time... if Martinez does it again, Matthews may not be so lucky the second time! HE LIFTS!! [But as he attempts to switch his grip into a crucifix powerbomb, the Madfox slips loose and as Martinez turns around...] 'THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JS: FOXDEN!! FOXDEN!! FOXDEN!! HE DRILLED IT OUT OF NOWHERE!! [This time, it's Matthews who rolls to his feet against the plexiglass, waving for a count to begin.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" [The Last American Badass peels himself to his knees, breaking the count much to the Madfox' dismay. Outside the ring, Caleb Temple has pulled a sheet of glass into view and bridged it between two chairs.] JS: Look at Temple! Glass?! TM: Oh man. JS: He's getting back up on the apron... trying to get back into the- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [A superkick catches Temple under the jaw, knocking him from the apron, spinning him in mid-air... ...and sending him chestfirst through the sheet of glass!] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" [DEAFENING POP!] JS: Temple through the glass! Martinez trying to get back to his feet but he's not having an easy time of it. Jeff Matthews really rang his bell with that damn Foxden! [The Madfox gets to his feet, waving for Martinez to get up... waiting... waiting... And outside the ring, Temple has a piece of broken glass and is crawling around the ring.] JS: Martinez is almost there... almost- [He gets to his feet and Matthews leaps into the air.] JS: FOXD- [The second attempt at the diamond cutter is blocked by Martinez who hoists Matthews into a belly to back suplex... ...before swinging him into a sitout powerbomb! DEAFENING MIXED POP!] JS: BLUE THUNDER POWERBOMB!!! HE PLANTED HIM!!! TM: But he's too shaken to call for a count. Both men are down... and where the hell is Caleb Temple going?! [Temple drags his bloodied form around the ringside area over near the plexiglass wall... ...and starts cutting through the ropes securing the Killing Box together with the piece of glass in his hand.] JS: What's he doing? TM: He's got a piece of glass in his hand... what's that rope he's cutting? Oh my god. You don't think- JS: It must be! TM: Somebody needs to stop him! Somebody's got to- [Martinez climbs to his feet... raising both hands in the air...] JS: He's calling for the Firebomb! He's calling for it! Alex Martinez is going to finish Jeff Matthews right here and now! He's gonna spike him through the mat and eliminate him from- [Temple finishes his job, a wide grin crossing his face as he dives away from the ring. A loud creak is heard and a camera positioned near the rope he was cutting shows a massive set of rigging cables going slack.] JS: What the-?! NOOOOOOOOOO!!! [The cables going slack brings a loud creaking noise throughout the building... one that brings a sick feeling to the stomach of anyone with enough time to think. Enough time to ponder what is happening before the glass ceiling that makes up the Killing Box begins to fall. Plummet. Collapse. Enough time to think. Enough time to wonder. Enough time to fear. But for Alex Martinez... not enough time to move.] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHHHHHH!!!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT! "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT! "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT! "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT!" "HO-LY SHIT! [The Staples Center arena roars, filling the entire building with a cacophony of noise as ring crew members, J*STAR officials, other wrestlers... you name it, charge down the aisle towards the ring. The announce team is deathly silent, staring at the carnage before them. The cameramen move their equipment erratically, adding to the chaotic scene. In the middle of it all, Alex Martinez is motionless, having taken the brunt of a glass roof plummeting some fifteen or more feet straight down into his skull. His former best friend, Jeff Matthews, lies a few feet away, covered in broken glass but showing very little more damage than earlier. The referee, Mike Barnes, is also unmoving... and is actually being dragged from the ring by an EMT crew. A few feet away, a wide-eyed pair of men in black suits are staring at the scene before them... pointing fingers at the roof... then at Caleb Temple. A camera zooms in on the frayed cable shredded by the maniacal madman, now leaning against the steel barricade surrounding the ring. He cackles like a psychopath as a few security guards surround him. A brave official points an accusatory hand in his direction... and is scared into silence from an evil grin by the madman from Trinity. A "THUNK!" is heard as Todd Michaelson drops his headset, racing over to where Temple is sitting. The camera mic picks up words like, "sick fuck"... "ruined the show"... "sue your ass"... and many other choice phrases. An EMT team sets to work on Alex Martinez, who waves off their attempts to load him on a stretcher. Mike Barnes is not so lucky as he gets loaded up on one. Barnes is quickly removed from the broken glass and taken up the ramp as the crowd looks on in shock. All eyes turn to the entryway as Debbie Matthews appears, tears running down her face. She races down the elevated ramp towards the ring... but is physically restrained by security and J*STAR officials. Cut to a wide-eyed Caleb Temple who just spotted Debbie... and climbs to his feet, walking towards the entrance ramp. Security stands in front of him, looking to block his path. He drills one with a right hand. A second catches the shard of glass slashing across the shoulder. The third simply steps back as Temple stomps past him. Michaelson screams for security to get Debbie Matthews out of sight, Temple's eyes still sickeningly wide as he walks in her direction. The J*STAR Promoter grabs Temple by the arm... and catches a shard of glass slashed across his arm for his efforts. Michaelson drops to his knees, clutching his arm as blood spurts from it. The seas part for the crazed Temple as he climbs up onto the ramp, spreading his arms wide as if he's looking to hug the frightened wife of Jeff Matthews who wants nothing more than to be able to check on her husband. The EMT team turns their attention to the Madfox, having gotten Martinez and Barnes out of the ring. A vial of smelling salts are put to quick work, snapping Matthews into a seated position... where he spies the situation on the ramp. The Madfox springs to his feet, shoving the EMT crew aside as he steps out on the ramp... and jumps on the back of Temple, pummeling him from behind. Security races to try to separate the two as we spot the other J*STAR promoter, Chris Blue, for the first time since the chaos started. He orders security to get Debbie Matthews back the ramp and for the rest of security to split up the fight. Two armed guards rush to aid the security team but as they grab for Temple, Matthews grabs the handcuffs off of one of their belts. He lashes out with them, whipping the chair down across the face of his blood enemy. Matthews quickly snaps the cuffs around one wrist, dragging Temple back towards the ring. He snatches the second set of cuffs on the way to the ring, dragging him into the warzone. The security team prepares to move in... and gets stopped by Blue who orders them to stand back and watch. Matthews snaps the other end of the first set of cuffs to the barbed wire. He quickly locks on the second set of cuffs, "crucifying" Caleb Temple against the barbed wire. Matthews picks up a steel chair... glaring coldly at his biggest enemy. He slams the chair down against the canvas, broken glass flying up as he does so. He jabs the chairback into the throat of Temple, forcing the King of the Death Match to look at him. "This... is for Gary!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" A steel chair crashes down over the skull of Temple, becoming slightly dented in the process. "This... is for Casey!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" The chair comes down again, blood splashing onto it as it makes impact. "You sick... you fuck! This one? This is for Chris!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" The steel chair crashes into the skull of the most evil man in the business. "Who else? Who else have you fucking ruined?! WHOSE LIVES HAVE YOU FUCKED WITH?! THIS ONE?! THIS IS FOR ALEX!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" Temple's head bows from the impact, his eyes barely open as the chair's dents grow larger and larger. "Everything you touch... everything! For Rhoni!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" Another brutal chairshot comes to rest on Temple's skull, ravaging the chair as blood pours off of the nutcase's face. "Your own daughter... she's cursed... cursed. AHHHH!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" An anguished cry of pain from the Madfox is spewed from his lungs as he blasts the King of the Death Match again. "For Todd... for Lori..." "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "For my wife, you fuck!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "AND FOR MY KIDS!! MY KIDS WHO'LL HAVE NIGHTMARES THEIR ENTIRE LIVES!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" Caleb Temple, having had his skull crushed an unprecedented seventeen times with a steel chair, hangs limp from the handcuffs. Matthews reaches up, unhooking the cuffs and allowing Temple to slump down to the canvas in a heap. Matthews looks at him, his hands shaking with rage... his eyes burning with anguish. The chair in his hands is dented... is mangled beyond recognition. The fire in his eyes burns strong... and deep. He tosses the chair aside... and nods to Longfellow to start a count. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" The bell rings as the arena erupts for the final time. For the final time in this match... for the final time in this weekend... for the final time in this war between three of the greatest legends this sport has ever known. And as Debbie Matthews breaks through security and joins her husband in the ring.... as Jeff Matthews looks down on his most hated rival who is bloodied and broken... ...a new look crosses his face. Peace. Or for those with an ironic sense? Redemption. And in the end... who could ask for more than that? Fade to black.]