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January 13, 2001

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[6:58 pm | The Shore Sports Arena, Toms River New York]

[The camera fades into an idle HWF logo. Suddenly, you hear "Last Resort" by Papa Roach blasts through the arena speakers; as the camera cuts to the inside of the Shore Sports Arena in Toms River, New York. About 3,500 HWF fans are on their feet and screaming. Tim and Jeff are sitting at ringside, as fireworks go off in the ring. Pretty soon, the fireworks comes to a close, as well as the song.]

#Fortune fame
#Mirror vain
#Gone insane
#But the memory remains

[Metallica's "Memory Remains" blasts over the PA system. The crowd explodes into cheers as the HWF world champion and one-half of the tag team champions, Lance Sterling, walks slowly into view. He has the HWF title around his waist, with the tag title on his right shoulder. He slowly walks down to the ring, this time not bothering to slap any fans hands. He climbs the steps and stands on the ring apron, raising both arms in the air and yelling out "I am the greatest!" before entering the ring.]

Lance Sterling: One week ago, each and every one of you saw Michael Trey and myself win the HWF tag team titles. I stand before you tonight as several things: The reigning HWF world champion, one half of the tag team champions, and..a legend. You see, I have a little secret to reveal to everybody. As you all know, I am the first second generation HWF champion to be inducted into the Hall of Hardcore. As if that wasn't a great thing in its own right, tonight I also stand before you as the the ONLY three-time HWF tag team champion! A feat that has never been accomplished before, and may very well never happen again. See, let me tell you all a little story. Just around a year ago, a little bit after the HWF started its second incarnation, Michael Trey made his debut. In the course of a few weeks, he joined forces with a tag team partner, Maxx Powers. Together the two of them seemed to be unstoppable and were the first HWF tag team champions.

[The HWF-Tron springs to life, showing a clip of when Trey and Powers won the tag titles on Suicide.]

Lance Sterling: People predicted great things for the two, but alas, it was not to be. Instead, the two of them were ROBBED of the tag titles by a couple of j-birds by the names of Malice and Kris "The Executioner" Taylor. I don't know HOW they did it, but somehow Trey and his partner unfairly lost the tag titles. But now, that screwjob loss has been avenged. You see, HWF, Maxx Powers...was ME!

[A shocked gasp from everybody in the crowd. Even Tim and Jeff's mouths have dropped, and they look dumbfounded at the ring]

Tim: S-Sterling was Trey's partner, Maxx Powers?!?

Jeff: I knew it all along!

Tim: The hell you did! Jesus...what a shocker! I would never have thought that. No wonder the move Trey and Sterling used looked so familiar.

Lance Sterling: Yes, it is true. Lance Sterling and Maxx Powers are one and the same. And now, as I said before, I stand before you as the ONLY three time HWF tag team champion in history! In fact, tonight I'll make history again when, along with Trey and Renegade, I crush the Anti-Heroes once and for all, and put to rest their delusion that the past is still going strong. That is a load of bullshit! Right here tonight, the past is gonna end, and the future will take control like it's been doing since May! Anti-Heroes, you think you're hot shit now? Why? Just because you did something great in the past? Well..tonight I'm going to do something great for the future. I'm going to shut you people up for good. In front of every man, woman, and child in this arena tonight, you're going to be insulted, degraded, and humiliated at the hands of the Xtreme Alliance. Right here tonight, the wave of the future is going to hit, and hit hard. After tonight, you'll be history. Once and for all I'm going to prove that I..am the greatest!

[Memory Remains blares through the PA system again. Sterling drops the microphone and climbs to the turnbuckle, taking off the world title and raising it and one of the tag titles in the air. He repeates this on each turnbuckle and then on the ring apron, before he walks towards the back. This time he slaps fans hands as he walks back, stopping again at the aisle to raise the two titles in the air again.]

Tim: He's psyched for tonight! That's going to be one hell of a match but, damn I can't get past the fact that Lance Sterling used to be Trey's partner, Maxx Powers!

Jeff: Well get past it. Sterling is the only three-time HWF tag team champion, and that makes him the greatest!

[The camera scans around the crowd a little, as it comes upon a familiar face. The camera switches to a different shot of the same man, who seems to be just observing like an ordinary fan.]

Jeff: Eww... that guy looks kind of creepy...

[The camera switches to the ring.]

Tim: Well, to kick off this edition of HWF Saturday Suicide,Tempest is gready to take on Night Stalker!

Jeff: Damn feminist. I hope Stalker takes her out of the frame like he said he would.

Tim: Ugh...whatever...

[The low electronic hum that begins the Lo-Fideltiy All-Stars "Battle Flag" wafts over the arena as the lights go out, but for a few blue strobes, flickering over the crowd in time. As the heavier beat kicks in, the blue spot light scans the entrance, and up the HWF-tron to find Tempest walking across the top of it like a tight rope. She grins and leaps, sliding down the side rails and ounces of the bottom rail into a backward triple axel, and lands on her feet, already walking to the ring. She smiles and holds up her arms to the "ooos" and "aahs" of the crowd and breaks into a jog. She trots up the steps and doesn't stop as she scuttles up to the top turnbuckle and waves to the crowd.]

Tim: Going against what Jeff said, I think Tempest is a great rolemodel and a great wrestler.

Jeff: But she's a chick! Do you not understand what I'm sayin'!?

Tim: Basically, Jeff, I don't give a damn what you say.

Jeff: Shut your mother-

[The sound of wind is heard followed by the sound of a guitar. The lights dim to a dull red color, the color of dried blood. A chill runs through crowd as a single flame appears in the center of the stage. As the song picks up, the flame grows and grows. Suddenly as the song picks up fully, the stage explodes in gray and black pyrotechnics. As the smoke clears, the flame remains on the stage as Night Stalker, clad in a black trenchcoat and black sunglasses, walks out. He walks to the flame and blows it out, then walks down the ramp. Stalker climbs the ring steps and enters the ring. He walks to the far corner and leans against it, waiting for the match to start.]

Jeff: Here's Night Stalker! Take her out, man...

Tim: Ick...Jeff, after the things you say, how do you sleep at night?

Jeff: Ask you mother!

[The two circle each other once, then walk towards each other in the middle of the ring. Stalker suddenly lurches forward and jabs Tempest in the stomach. Tempest, obviously caught off guard from the move, bends down holding her stomach. Stalker raises her face and whips her into the opposite ropes, then backs into the ropes nearer him. The two go flying at each otherat an enormous speed. About 10 feet away froim him, Tempest sticks out her arm as if to clothesline Stalker. Stalker, despite being about five feet away from her, ducks down. Tempest jumps into the air and does a somersault flip over Stalker, alnding on her feet behind him. Stalker stands straight up, confused at Tempest's trick, as Tempest puts Stalker in a rear chancery, then dives down, hitting a diving reverse DDT on him.]

Tim: Look at the athleticism by Tempest so early on!

Jeff: That was so cheap it makes me sick. She's supposed to be wrestling, not doing gymnastics!

[Tempest hops to her feet as Stalker suddenly sits straight up (ala Kane, Undertaker). Stalker gets to his feet quickly as Tempest comes running towards him. Stalker stops her with a powerful blow to her left cheek. Night Stalker staggers Tempest into the corner with a few strong right hands. Tempest leans up against the turnbuckle, propping herself up with her arms. Her eyes are slightly glazed over, indicating her current state. Night Stalker takes his time getting over to Tempest, slowly sauntering over with a mocking grin on his face. He reaches Tempest, lifting her chin up with his hand, his grin growing even wider. He winds up behind his back, and swings at Tempest's head with a HUGE right hand, but she drops down to the mat as he swings, ducking the punch. Night Stalker rams into the turnbuckle from the force of his swing and Tempest crawls underneath his legs behind him. Stalker spins around quickly, surprised at Tempest's burst of speed. She charges at Night Stalkerwith every ounce of strength in her body, but Stalker catches her into a Gorilla Press. As she's going up into the air, she kicks off of his shoulders, getting even more height on the press, close to nine feet! Still up in the air, Tempest kicks both her feet into the face of Night Stalker, bending him over backwards, but not completely dropping him. As Tempest comes down from the incredibleheight, she grabs his neck and drives his head into the mat with his neck bent back at an awkward angle. As he writhes on the mat, apparently unaware of where he is, Tempest runs to the ropes and springboards off the top one into a moonsault.]

Tim: Look at this! Tempest is pulling off some awesome moves here!

Jeff: (in mumbling voice) Assknob...

[Tmpest crawls over to Stalker and puts her arm over him for the pin...]

[One... ...Two... ..T-KICKOUT!!!]

Tim: Near fall there, so early on too...

Jeff: Dammit Tim, can you give the match some time! Shit!

[Tempest hops to her feet again, and lifts Stalker to his feel. She runs to the near turnbuckle and springboards off of it, looking to do another moonsault, but Stalker catches her in midair at a tombstone piledriver position. He stalls her there for a good twenty seconds, then drops to his knees, executing a devastating stalling tombstone piledriver.]

Jeff: Haha! There we go, he's showing her who's the man in the ring!

Tim: Tim: Shit, that was an awesome Tombstone Piledriver there...

[Stalker looks as though he's going to go for the pin, but stops. An evil smile comes over his face, as he picks Tempest to her feet. He then lifts her high into the air, in a Gorilla Press position. He then walks over to the ropes, and throws Tempest as high into the air as he can. On the way down, he catches Tempest with a punch to her gut, as she falls onto the ropes neck first!]

Tim: Sweet lord of mercy, Tempest's neck is broken in half!

Jeff: Who is the man, eh? WHO IS THE MAN!!! STALKER'S THE MAN DAMMIT!!!

[Stalker, still with that evil smile on his face and demented twinkle in his eye, puts his foot on Tempest's stomach, signifying a pin.]

[One... ...Two... ...Thr-KICKOUT!!!]

Tim: How the hell is she doing this! Night Stalker almost ended her career right there!!!

Jeff: Damn, she should be out like a friggin' light...

[Stalker, obviously pissed at the count, turns to Chucky Bullard and starts yelling at him, something about a slow count. Stalker waves him off and turns to Tempest. She is trying to hoist herself up with the turnbuckle, but Stalker punches her in the back of the head. A "Tempest! Tempest!" shout in the crowd has sprung up. Stalker picks her up by her head, and turns to whip her into the corner. Tempest reverses it though, and catches a quick superkick to Stalker's chin. stalker grabs his chin and backs up, as Tempest goes to kick him in the stomach. Stalker grabs her foot, but Tempest jumps into the air, hitting a major enziguri with impact! Stalker bends back and gets thrown out over the top rope from the impact. Tempest leans into the turnbuckle, trying to shake off the fatigue.]

Tim: Major move there by Tempest, who is still in the game here!

Jeff: Yeah, yeah, whatever...

[Tempest slides out of the ring and heads towards Stalker. When she reaches him, Stalker is back to his feet. He goes to hit a major right hand to her face, but she ducks it and backs off a little. Stalker walks towards her a little, and the two tie up. Nightstalker scoops Tempest up for a powerbomb, but she tries to reverse into a huricanrana. Stalker blocks the move and lifts Tempest back up to a powerbomb position quickly. But Tempest pushes forcefully up and away from him. She spins and plants her leg across the back of his head, and hits an elevated Rocker Dropper, while still outside the ring!]

Tim: Look at the agility, speed, and...pretty much everything else by Tempest! She's in total control of the match right now!

Jeff: Just shut the hell up Robinson, no one wants to hear you talk.

[Stalker staggers up to his feet, as does Tempest. Stalker pushes Joey Tompkins (timekeeper) out of his chair and folds it up, then turns back to Tempest. He swings it, but Tempest kicks the chair back into this face. The chair goes flying back as Stalker leans against the announcer's table. Tempest steps forward and whips him back into the ring, then follows him herself. Stalker stands up slowly, obviously fatiguied from the match already. Tempest grabs his arm to whip him into the ropes, as Stalker goes flying into them and bounces off. Tempest hits him iwth a quick dropkick, then satnds back up. Stalker gets up very, very slowly, as Tempest grabs his arm again. Stalker suddenly reverses the whip and sticks Tempest's head under his arm into a front chancery, and hits an Implant Evenflow DDT! He then goes for the cover...]

[One... ...Two... ...THREE!!]

Tim: What the hell!? Stalker was out right there!

Jeff: Haha! Night Stalker just faked the hell outta Tempest! It was a trick all along!

[Night Stalker stands up slowly, as does Tempest. Tempest reaches her hand out to him, as if to shake his hand. Stalker looks at her, then lets out an evil laugh. He shakes his head and mumbles something that sounds like, "You have a lot to learn...", then exits the ring over the top rope.]

Tim: Night Stalker can't even be a good sport about it...he's just sick.

Jeff: Stalker is the man! Don't know what you're talkin' about...

Tim: Whatever, let's just cut to commercial...

[Commercials]

[A hush falls over the Shore Sports Arena as the high speed metallic riff of an unknown song fills the air. A few fans seems to be enjoying the song until the lyrics cut in... not in English, but in Japanese?! The crowd's eyes collectively glaze over as the singer continues to belt out his raspy Japanese serenade]

Tim: What the hell is this all about!?!

[The song drags on, and at the very moment when it seems the crowd is about to become restless two forms emerge from the back. All eyes focus on the unknown men, and we quickly look them over. Both men look to be under six feet, and only a shade over two hundred pounds. Each man has his own unique features, one is masked, one is not. The man without a mask stands tall, with a stoic air about him. The man is quite obviously Asian, his skin a yellow/tan in color. His long jet black hair is pulled back into a top knot ponytail. He is shirtless, and wearing wide legged martial arts pants with twisting red oriental dragons running down the legs. The masked man sports long black vinyl looking tights, on the right leg are three red Japanese characters. This second man's most notable feature is his scarred upper torso. Scars crisscross his chest and arms, he looks to have endured much pain to gain these badges of battle. Now we look closer at his masked face and see a strange red design twisting around the mask. The man's hair sticks from the top of his mask and hangs down slightly and his eyes and mouth are explosed.]

Tim: Hmmm... these guys look KIND OF familiar...

Jeff: They do!?!

[The men stand motionless, looking over the fans as the Japanese Speed Metal continues to stream from the arena speakers. The masked man then reaches behind him and seems to pull something from his waist band. He brings his hand around and raises it high in the air. We look at the object he's now holding and we see a 15 inch long black stick, from the side of it juts a blade, surgical steel, laser sharpened... it's a Sickle. The fans can't help but cheer at the simple idea that this man has the gall to carry such a item to the ring]

Jeff: I don't quite know who these guys are, but I sure like 'em!!

[The masked man lowers the sickle and both men slowly start for the ring. The men slide in nearly in unison, and quickly get to their feet. It only takes a look for the long haired man to indicate he needs a mic. The music finally dies out as an HWF microphone files through the air, and is easily caught by the man. His masked companion stands motionless, his weapon at his side, as the long haired man begins to speak. His voice is surprisingly devoid of the accent we expect, instead he speaks quite flawlessly, his accent barely detectable]

Long Haired Man: Fate... Fate can be a cruel mistress. Fate destroys lives, fate conquers even the strong, and it is fate that brings us BACK to the HWF. Fate, for us, has been nothing but kind. It's given us a second chance to be reborn, a second chance to regain our honor. Honor drives our lives in our homeland... the Land of the Rising Sun. We were last here proclaiming ourselves as Warriors from that land, but we found that we were not ready for the challenges of your 'American Hardcore'.

[The long haired man looks side to side and glares at the silent crowd before handing the mic to the masked man. The masked man raises the micto his lips, but when he speaks we get what expect. His voice carries a thick Asian accent, yet he speaks in a well educated manner... no run ons, or common stereotypical Asian mispronunciations]

Masked Man: Last time we made a mistake... we resisted your Hardcore, we wanted to prove that we were above it. But we were not. June 2000: A Three Way 'Hell Over High Water Match' for the HWF Tag Team Titles... we were bested... the Warriors were defeated. We left in dishonor and fled back to our homeland. There we trained. We trained for THIS DAY, the day when the Warriors of the Rising Sun would return to the HWF. Not just return for revenge, but return with a revolution. I have endured more in these past six months then your most 'Hardcore' star has endured in his career. I now bring that pain to you...

Jeff: The Warriors of the Rising Sun!?!

Tim: We haven't seen them since the King of Violence tournament... probably even before that!!

Masked Man: Their is a word in my language, a word more feared in the wrestling world than any other... Desumacchi. It means 'Deathmatch'... learn it. This blade I carry is NOT for show. Those who cross our path will taste this blade... they WILL bleed. The Warriors of the Rising Sun have returned, and we plan to cut a path of blood and carnage through the HWF and reclaim the honor we have lost. It has been said before, but when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. The Warriors stand before you ready to teach... who among you is ready to learn?

[The masked man hands the mic back over to the long haired man as the fans begin to rustle]

Long Haired Man: Jin and Tatsumi have returned to the HWF, the Warriors are back. Now we look to you, the denizens of the HWF Tag Team Division. Which team will be the first? Who will step forward and show us their courage... what team is brave enough to be the example? The challenge is laid out, accept, or you will force us to choose. This time the Warriors will not rest, this time we will live by the words of our greatest Japanese warlords... Kokushibyou Sen Fugiri... Death Before Dishonor.

[The long haired man, Jin, tosses the mic down. As he does the masked man, Tatsumi, suddenly sprays a black mist from his mouth into the air. The two men slowly head out of the ring, and disappear into the back as their Japanese speed metal starts up once again.]

Tim: The Warriors are back!!

JeffL What an announcement!! ... what's next!?!

Tim: Now it's time for the first of twp guest referee matches of the night, Chris Styles versus Chris Thrilla...

Jeff: With that juvenile delinquent Spike as the ref. god I hate those two.

Tim: Will you get off it? So they interrupted you a couple times, big deal!

Jeff: But, it was MY SHTICK! My shtick, I tell you!

Tim: That's the only reason?

Jeff: Well, that and "The Canadian man-driller" Chris Thrilla, called me fat!

Tim: *under his breath* Well. you are on the hefty side. fatass.

Jeff: What'd you just say?

Tim: I said Cows eat grass.

Jeff: Well... yes, I suppose they do.

[‘Boys n’ The Hood’ by Dynamite Hack plays as Styles makes his slowly way from the back. He stops at the top of the ramp and yellow and silver pyro-techniques EXPLODE all around him. As the pyro-techniques die down Styles emerges from the smoke of the explosions and runs down the ramp towards the ring acknowledging the crowd the whole way.]

Tim: And here comes Chris Styles, the first competitor in this match-

Jeff: And where's he going?

[After the music dies down, Chris Styles rolls out of the ring, reaching underneath the arpon. He rolls up one side, allowing him to crawl underneath to the ring.]

Tim: Uh. what's he doing?

Jeff: He'd better not be hiding! Get your ass out here Styles, and smack that pre-pubescent bitch back into diapers!

["Disposable Teens" by Marilyn Manson hits the speakers as Chris Thrilla wastes no time in running out to the ring and sliding in. He stares at Styles as the music fades out.]

Jeff: Stupid darkness into new light. what the hell is that supposed to mean, anyways?

Tim: What are you talking about?

Jeff: Man-driller's catchphrase! And what's with the faggoty hand-holding crap?

Tim: Ugh. now we're just waiting for Spike, the special guest referee.

[Thrilla is in the middle of the ring, looking around for Styles. Chris Styles is still underneath the ring, however, trying to get out whatever it was that he was looking for. Thrilla backs up into a corner, sitting down with his back leaned up against the turnbuckles and waits for something to happen. Something from underneath the ring shakes the mat, and a loud "Ow, fuck!" comes from the uncovered apron - a few seconds later, a large black CCM hockey bag is thrown out onto the concrete floor of the arena form under the ring. Styles follows it out shortly, rubbing the top of his head. Thrilla hauls himself up from the corner, immediately running straight at Styles on the outside. Styles reaches down to the bag, opening the top zipper. He rummages through the bag, not knowing that Thrilla is already on his way over. Thrilla dives through the second and third ropes with a suicide dive, connecting with Styles' back. The two roll forwards, hitting the guardrail. Thrilla gets up quickly, pulling the stunned Styles up by his hair and throws a few hard right hands at his face. Styles is rocked backwards from the hits, but he recovers and charges at Thrilla, tackling him to the concrete. The two roll around on the floor for a few seconds, brawling, biting, punching, everything they can to injure the other.]

Jeff: And the match has started off with a bang! Get him Styles!

Tim: Actually, the match HASN'T started yet! We're still waiting for Spike!

Jeff: What do we need a ref for? The best matches are no DQ!

Tim: So says you.

Jeff: Indeed I do!

Tim: We're poets and we don't even know it.

Jeff: Shaddup you!

[Thrilla and Styles continue to roll around on the floor, throwing lefts and rights all over the place, not even caring what they hit. A few officials from the back run out and try to break up Styles and Thrilla until the match actually begins. A few try and pick them off the ground, but once Styles and Thrilla are vertical again, they grapple furiously, swinging from side to side into the guardrail. The officials again try and break them up, but they have the same result - Thrilla and Styles manage to get around them and continue brawling.]

Jeff: Oh, come on! What are they gonna do? Let 'em fight! I want blood!

Tim: Calm down!

[Chris Thrilla's voice comes over the p.a. "Close your eyes, take my hand, and let darkness lead you to new light." With that, all the lights in the arena go out. A few seconds later the opening beat to Disposable Teens by Marilyn Manson hits and red strobe lights begin to flash behind a giant white screen.]

And I'm a black rainbow,
and I'm an ape of god,
I got a face that's made for violence and porn,
and I'm a teen distortion,
survived abortion,
a rebel from the waist down.

[A lone silhouette of Spike appears on the screen, black and with red outlining him.]

yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah,
I wanna thank you mom,
I wanna thank you dad,
for bringing this fucking world to a bitter end,
I never really hated,
a one true god,
but the god of the people I hated!

[The screen explodes into tiny pieces, like shards of glass, all the while red pyro goes off on the sides of the stage. Spike steps out from the shattered glass and smoke wearing a sleeveless and collarless referee shirt and walks quickly down to the ring. Spike slides under the ropes, signaling to the announcer for a mic when he gets up. The music fades out and Spike begins to speak.]

Spike: Thrilla, Styles! God damn it, you were supposed to wait until I got here! Screw it. just to let you all know, this match is a no disqualification, falls count ANYWHERE match. This is the only way these two are ever going to get over their little squabble. LET'S GET IT. oh, never mind, you've already gotten it on!

[Spike tosses the mic back to the announcer and rolls out of the ring to check on Styles and Thrilla, who stopped momentarily to listen to him. He stands aloofly, leaning up against the ring post in between the two, who are now staring back from him to each other. Spike takes a look at Thrilla - then at Styles and shrugs. He yells over the loud audience to the two wrestlers - "What the fuck are you waiting for?!" With that, Styles charges at Thrilla, catching him with a spear to the concrete. Styles lifts Thrilla up off the floor, giving him a few kicks to the ribs to bend him over. Styles locks in a front chancery and throws Thrilla's arm over his neck. He lifts him off his feet with a vertical suplex, and drives him hard to the floor with his lower back. Thrilla leans to one side, wincing and holding his back. Styles picks Thrilla up again, locks in a chancery, throws the arm over his neck and lifts him up with another suplex, dropping him onto his back. Thrilla rolls over to his stomach, clutching his back slightly. Styles grabs Thrilla again, tossing him into the ring under the bottom ropes. Thrilla rolls all the way over onto his feet as Styles climbs through the ropes with his face away from Thrilla, looking at the crowd. He turns around, and Thrilla launches himself at Styles with a jumping forearm, hitting him square in the chest, knocking him down on the apron. Thrilla reaches over the top ropes, lifting Styles up by his head. Thrilla winds up, drilling Styles in the face with a few hard right hands and locks in a suplex from the inside. He pulls Styles up, but doesn't lift him all the way over the top for a suplex.]

Jeff: Look at him! He's so damned underdeveloped that he can't even lift up Styles!

[Thrilla continues to haul Styles into the air slowly, like he was aiming for something to drop Styles onto. Thrilla has Styles just about vertical, but still slightly leaning over the ropes and not quite straight. Thrilla bends his knees, lowering himself suddenly, but then jumps into the air, holding Styles in the suplex. As he jumps, he tosses Styles off of him, and Chris falls all the way to the floor onto his face and stomach!]

Jeff: See? I told you he couldn't lift Styles!

Tim: He did that on purpose!

Jeff: Exactly, even he knows he's weak!

Tim: No Jeff.

[Thrilla rolls to the outside and lifts Styles up. He drags him all the way to the top of the steel HWF ramp with Spike following them all the way. Thrilla hooks Styles' head in a front chancery and waves his hand, signaling for a DDT. He taps Styles' back, but Styles doesn't fall and Thrilla falls back, smacking his head on the steel ramp. Styles stomps away at Thrilla then proceeds to the side of the ramp where he begins climbing the scaffolding of the HWF tron.]

Jeff: Where the hell is Styles going?

Tim: I don't know, but Thrilla may be out. His had hit that steel ramp hard.

Jeff: Yeah.Just like those stupid kids with their head banging.

[Styles makes his way across the lower part of the HWF tron so that he is directly above Thrilla. Styles raises both arms and jumps off the HWF tron for an old school Macho Man style elbow. Thrilla rolls out of the way and Styles hits the ramp hard with the point of his elbow. Styles clutches his right elbow and lays motionless as Thrilla gets back up and the crowd begins an 'H-W-F' chant.]

Tim: Christ! Styles' arm could be broken!

Jeff: Dammt! Get up Styles!

Tim: I think this is going to set the complexion of the match from here on in.

[Thrilla goes to the back as Spike checks on Styles. Thrilla is there for only a few seconds and he comes back out with a large green dumpster. Sticking out of the lid are a ladder and what looks to be two large boards of wood. Thrilla pulls the ladder out and sets it up against the bottom of the HWF tron. He pulls Styles up and begins dragging him up the slanted ladder all the way to the bottom of the HWF tron. Styles quickly stops Thrilla with a low blow. Styles hooks Chris by the waist and looks to possibly belly to back drop Thrilla off the HWF tron. He goes to lift him up but Thrilla retaliates with a reverse elbow, then another one, and another. Thrilla turns around to face Styles and kicks him in the mid-section. He puts Styles' head into a standing head scissors, lifts him up vertical and jumps forward, slides down the ladder on his back, and plants Styles on the HWF ramp with a huge piledriver. Thrilla grabs his tailbone in pain and rolls around on the floor.]

["HOLY-SHIT! HOLY-SHIT! HOLY-SHIT! HOLY-SHIT!"]

Tim: Jesus! Styles could be paralyzed!

Jeff: I'll give credit where credit is due, Chris is willing to sacrifice himself for the crowd.

Tim: Wow, I'm surprised Jeff! I thought you hated Thrilla.

Jeff: Wrong Chris! Thrilla's a pussy, I meant Styles.

Tim: Y' know, you can be such a di. There's a cover!

[Thrilla crawls over to Styles and puts an arm on him.]

[One... ...Two... ..TH...Styles lifts up a shoulder.]

Tim: Wow, that was close! This match was almost over with!

[Thrilla slowly gets up, clutching his lower back. He pushes the dumpster down the ramp and it slams hard against the ring apron. He picks up Styles and they both begin walking to the ring. About halfway down the ramp, Thrilla grabs Styles by the head and begins running towards the dumpster. As he is about to have his head slammed into the dumpster, Styles blocks with his foot, takes Thrilla's head and slams it against the dumpster. Thrilla falls to his knees and clutches his head. Styles climbs up to the apron and then on top of the dumpster. Thrilla stands up with his back to the ring so he does not see what is going on. He turns around and Styles jumps off the dumpster hitting Thrilla in the mouth with a messy looking missile dropkick. Styles clutches his arm as he goes for a cover.]

[One... ...Two... ...THR..KICKOUT!!]

Tim: Again, so close! Both of these men are willing to take any chance to destroy each other!

Jeff: You mean Styles is willing to take any and all chances. Thrilla doesn't have it in him - Underdeveloped testicles make for small courage.

Tim: C'mon Jeff! We've been watching him and Spike for quite a few months now! You have to give them some respect! Remember the matchups with Twisted Circle?

Jeff: Remember last week when they couldn't beat Lance Sterling?

Tim: Yeah, but-

Jeff: But nothing! I don't care what they're willing to do! They still aren't even worthy enough to clean Sterling's toilets!

Tim: You are such a mark!

Jeff: No I'm not, you are!

[Styles pulls Thrilla up by the neck and throws him into the ring. Styles goes onto the apron and begins throwing the contents of the dumpster into the ring. He pulls out the first wooden board to find that the other side of it is covered in bug zapper boards.]

Tim: For the love of Christ.After that Lasek and Renegade Ultimate Deathmatch I thought we would never see that damned bug zapper board again.

Jeff: Woo-hoo! I hope Thrilla gets himself fried! One crispy teen coming up!

[Styles shrugs, dropping the board onto the mat beside Thrilla. He reaches back into the dumpster, pulling out a black steel chair.]

Jeff: What?! A chair?! You go from a bug zapper board to a friggin' chair?!

Tim: Finally, something that doesn't burn or explode.

[Styles flips the steel chair over, showing the crowd why this particular weapon was stored inside the dumpster. a small brown plastic case of C4 explosives is attached to the seat!]

Tim: I spoke too soon!

[Styles climbs into the ring, holding the chair with one hand. He grabs Thrilla's hair, pulling him off the ground and stands him up. Styles points the chair right at the dazed Thrilla's neck, so that the top of the back rest is touching his throat. He pulls it back behind his head, ready for a home run swing. Styles swings the chair, but Thrilla ducks, and Styles stumbles forwards. Thrilla stands back up on his feet on his own strength behind Styles. Styles turns around, off balance from missing Thrilla's head. Thrilla charges at Styles, ducks his head low, sticks out his shoulder and slams right into Styles with a spear! The chair flies from Styles' hands to the outside of the ring, landing on the plain side of the chair so it doesn't explode. Thrilla takes hold of each one of Styles' legs, hooking one underneath each of his arms. He raises Styles' lower back off of the mat and rolls backward, sending him with a slingshot onto the top ropes across his neck. Thrilla walks over to Styles, picking him up by his hair. He throws a few right forearms at his cheek to weaken Styles, then kicks him in the stomach, keeling him over. Thrilla applies a quick standing head scissors, grabs Styles' waist, lifts him onto his shoulders and drops forwards, driving Styles' back into the mat with a Powerbomb! Styles' legs are still on top of Thrilla shoulders in a pin. Spike drops down to make the count.]

[One... ...Two...]

[Thrilla lifts Styles off the mat!]

Tim: What the hell's he doing? Thrilla could have had this match won!

[Thrilla hauls Styles up onto his shoulders again by his arms, and drives forwards, slamming Styles to the mat again with a double Powerbomb! His legs are on top of Thrilla's shoulders, and Spike is still on the mat from the last powerbomb to make the count.]

[One... ...Two...]

[Again, Thrilla digs deep and hauls Styles up onto his shoulders for a third consecutive Powerbomb. Thrilla hangs Styles on his shoulders, just savoring the last second before the completion of a Triple Powerbomb. Styles, from out of nowhere, arches his back, dropping though Thrilla's legs with his head with his legs locked around his neck and counters the last powerbomb with a Hurricanrana rollup pin!]

[One... ...Two...]

[Thrilla kicks out quickly and tries a sunset flip]

[One... ...Two...]

[Styles rolls backwards and double leg pins Thrilla]

[One... ...Two...]

[Thrilla pushes Styles' head in, pinning him]

[One... ...Two...]

[Styles' claps Thrilla's head with his legs, rolls backwards, grabs his legs and rolls forward into a pin]

[One... ...Two...]

[Thrilla bridges up, showing a lot of strength and turns it into a backslide pin.]

[One... ...Two...]

[Styles leans to the side, escaping the pin. Still back to back with their arms hooked, Styles goes for a backslide pin on Thrilla.]

[One... ...Two...]

[Thrilla rolls backwards onto his feet, still having his arms locked with Styles. Both men are now standing, the backs of their heads touching each other, looking like a double Tomikaze. Styles tries to roll one way - into another Backslide, but Thrilla spins around the same direction so they end up in the same head-to-head position. Styles tries rolling the other direction, but Thrilla counters by rolling over the same direction into the awkward position once again. Styles leans one way, Thrilla holds him in place, struggling to stay standing. Styles leans the other way, but Thrilla keeps the upright. Thrilla, going for a last ditch attempt, kicks his legs up in the air. As he comes down, he pulls Styles head to the mat along with his own, performing a reverse Tomikaze - one that forces him to get hit as well!]

["H-W-F! H-W-F! H-W-F!"]

Tim: Oh my GOD! A suicide Tomikaze by Thrilla!

Jeff: That was so pointless! He killed himself!

Tim: The question is - Are either of these two men going to get back up?

[Both Chris Thrilla and Chris Styles lay face down on the mat, completely still. Spike shakes his head, and begins the ten count for both men to get back on their feet.]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

[FOUR!]

[FIVE!]

[Both Styles and Thrilla begin to get up slowly, first on one knee.]

[SIX!]

[SEVEN!]

[Thrilla gets to his feet first, but is still waving back and forth, almost out on his feet.]

[Styles gets to his feet holding his head, rocking back and forth slowly, dazed and confused. Thrilla slowly staggers up to Styles, and throws a right hand. It connects against Styles' face, sending him reeling. Styles returns with a right of his own, knocking Thrilla backwards. Thrilla retaliates with a right of his own, and then Styles with one. right from Thrilla. right from Styles. right from Thrilla. right from Styles. Thrilla staggers back, and Styles continues with another right! Another! Another! Another! Thrilla rocks back and forth, completely out of it. Styles winds up one last time, but Thrilla amazingly side-steps it, and kicks Styles in the ribs, bending him over. Thrilla locks on a front chancery, and swings it into a cutter, driving Styles' head into the mat!]

Tim: The Thriller! The Thriller!

Jeff: No! Get up Styles! You can't lose to that pre-school dropout!

[Styles rolls over onto his back, motionless. Thrilla is close by, but also on the mat, breathing heavily. Neither person is moving for a cover, not even Thrilla.]

Tim: He can't make the cover! He's just had too much taken out of him!

Jeff: Serves his dumb ass right! You should always keep around one last little ounce of strength left to make a pin.

Tim: And how the hell would you know that?

Jeff: I was a wrestler!

Tim: When?

Jeff: I don't know, it was in Mexico somewhere. there were all these tiny little ankle biters running around.

Tim: Oh WOW. you wrestled midgets.

[Thrilla finally rolls over to his stomach, crawling inch by inch over to Styles, who has still not moved after the Thriller. He reaches Styles, and drapes an arm over his shoulders, making the cover. Spike drops to one knee, and starts to make the count - the crowd counts loudly along with him.]

[One... ...Two... ...THR..KICKOUT!!]

Tim: He kicked out! He kicked out!

Jeff: He kicked out!

Tim: I said that already!

Jeff: I know, but it just sounds better when you say it three times!

[Thrilla rolls onto his back, holding his face in his hands, completely stunned. Styles rolls to the outside to catch his breath, leaving Chris Thrilla inside in disbelief. Styles finds the hockey bag that he had brought earlier and reaches into it carefully, pulling out a hockey stick! The shaft and blade of the stick are wrapped in barbed wire, making the already destructive weapon all the more dangerous. He slides underneath the bottom ropes, unknown to Thrilla who is facing the other way, leaning against the top ropes. Thrilla turns around as Styles charges at him. Styles swings the stick, cracking Thrilla right in the forehead, breaking the hockey stick in two pieces! Some of the barbed wire sticks to Thrilla's face, ripping away at his skin. Styles rakes Thrilla's forehead, making the barbed wire dig into his face further, cutting Thrilla open!]

Jeff: The Canadian man-driller is wearing the crimson mask!

Tim: Christ! How can they still be going like this?

[Styles goes to a corner, lifting up the bug zapper board that was taken out a little while back. He places the board near the bleeding form of Thrilla, who has pulled out the barbed wire from his face. Styles picks Thrilla up by the hair and locks in a standing head scissors. He lifts Thrilla onto his shoulders for a powerbomb, but instead of dropping him, Styles pushes his legs out to the side, and turns VERY quickly as Thrilla drops, so that his jaw lands on Styles' shoulder with a ¾ facelock!]

Jeff: Oh, the innovation! What next, huh Thrilla? What next?! Tim: Will you calm down?

[Styles grabs the bug zapper board, tossing it over to the dumpster. It lands on the top of the dumpster, resting on a corner. Styles picks up the motionless Thrilla, drags him over to the dumpster, and rests him back first on the closed portion of the dumpster lid. Styles slowly walks over to the turnbuckle after this, and climbs on the second rope. The crowds slowly begins to get louder in anticipation of the coming maneuver, but Styles is slow to climb. He puts both feet on the second buckle, and then one on the third. Thrilla is beginning to stir on the dumpster lid, reaching over and grabbing the bug zapper board that was balanced on the corner of the dumpster. Still staying on his back, he holds the board so that it doesn't fall. Styles reaches the top turnbuckle with both feet and stands up, wobbling from side to side. The crowd is incredibly loud, waiting for the outcome of the move. Styles leaps high into the air, twisting his body so that it is perpendicular to Thrilla's and bends his arms and knees with a frog splash. Almost right on top of his victim, Styles spreads his arms and legs out to the side, but Thrilla pulls the bug zapper board over his chest!]

[ZAP!!]

["HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!"]

Tim: Oh.

Jeff: My.

Tim & Jeff: GOD!!!

Tim: Styles was fried from that bug zapper board!!

Jeff: But Thrilla was crushed from the Intensity Splash!!

[The lid buckles, and breaks, dropping Chris Thrilla AND Chris Styles to the bottom of the dumpster! Every weapon that remained inside is shattered in half! Tables, a few ladders, Singapore Canes, panes of glass, an acoustic guitar. the list goes on. Spike stands in the inside of the ring, completely stunned, but only for a few moments. He runs over to the dumpster, leaning inside of it with his legs hooked on the bottom rope. Spike gets back up onto the apron, looking down into the dumpster with his right hand in the air - He begins to make the ten count for them both to get up, and the crowd counts along with him.]

[ONE!]

[TWO!]

[THREE!]

[FOUR!]

[FIVE!]

[SIX!]

[SEVEN!]

[EIGHT!]

[NINE!]

[The crowd goes on to say "TEN!" but Spike stops, and stares down into the dumpster in amazement - Chris Thrilla's hand appears, clutching the side of the dumpster!]

Tim: Thrilla's up! Jeff: Where the hell is Styles?!

[Almost as if on cue, Styles' hand appears like Thrilla's did. Thrilla and Styles both painfully haul themselves into the ring, clutching their backs, necks. basically everything. Styles rolls onto his back, and Thrilla tries to go for a lateral press, but Styles cradles Thrilla into a Small Package! Spike slides down quickly, making the pin.]

[One... ...Two... ...THR..KICKOUT!!]

Tim: He kicked out! He kicked out!

Jeff: He ki -

Tim: Damn it, shut up!

[Styles lifts Thrilla by the hair, tossing him to the outside next to the black C4 chair. Thrilla drops to his knees, all his energy nearly spent, Styles rolls out beside him. Sytles begins to lift Thrilla up, but takes a low blow from Thrilla. Styles leans over, holding his crotch. Thrilla grabs Styles' arms in front of him and makes a double underhook position with his arms. Thrilla places his head underneath Styles' chin and drops to his knees, hitting the Final Exam. Styles jolts backwards, holding his jaw painfully. Thrilla reaches down to the C4 chair, flipping it over so the C4 side is facing the floor. Thrilla grabs onto Styles' head, pulling him up to his feet and places his arm in a pump-handle position. He hooks his arm around Styles' head, in the position for a High School Massacre. Thrilla looks backwards, making sure the chair is in the right position and pulls upwards, trying to drop Styles onto the C4 chair. Styles pulls his arm away from Thrilla's grasp, and lifts him up into a body slam. He drops his straight down onto his back with a Michinoku Driver onto the steel chair! Thrilla's back slams against the chair, and it explodes! The shock bounces Thrilla into the air again, and he drops onto his back for the second time! Styles drapes his arm over Thrilla's body, and Spike drops for the count.]

[One... ...Two... ...THREE!!]

Jeff:: Styles wins!!!

Tim: Holy shit, it's finally over! What a match!

Jeff: It was all because of Styles! It was Styles, I tell you!!

Tim: Both these men nearly destroyed each other over a grudge - one that is hopefully over with!

[Spike lifts Thrilla up off the floor, draping his arm over his shoulder for support. He leans down, helping Styles up off the floor as well, giving him support on his opposite shoulder. Boys n' the Hood plays as all three men stagger to the back, with Spike in the middle giving them both support.]

Tim: What a match... whew... Well folks we are now gonna go back to London and find out more about the Condition of Trevor Lasek.

Jeff: We are still not sure if Lasek is out of his coma but some superstars of the HWF has given their respects to the Violent Man.

Tim: Well now lets head over to University Hospital right away.

[A scene opens up once again into University Hospital, They then go to where Lasek has stayed since his Match from Holy Night, he's still laying there in his Coma, Kevin is sitting on a chair near Lasek and Saori is walking around. Then all of a sudden the Doctor comes in and we then hear him speak.]

Doctor: I'm sorry, we are trying our best to help keep Lasek in fair condition.

[Kevin gets out of the chair and begins to speak.]

Kevin: Trying? Lasek has been here for nearly three weeks and to me all you've done is Jack and shit. and Jack just left town.

Doctor: I know you are angry but you must bare with us, we are trying our best to help Trevor Lasek.

Kevin: Look Pal, Trevor is my friend. He has risked his ass nearly every single night in his matches.

[Commercials]

P>["Original Prankster" by The Offspring hits over the PA as the fans get to their feet. Yellow pyros go off as "The Original Prankster" JD Brady comes out to the crowd to a thunderous pop by the crowd! JD stands atop the ring area with his white electric guitar. Brady starts to walk down to the ring as he smiles with the fans, pointing the guitar at a few fans. Brady rolls under the ring ropes, passed the scattered pieces of nails on plywood and thumbtacks. Brady puts his guitar on the outside of the ring as he waits for the match to begin.]

Tim: JD Brady is still hurting from the match with Phoenix at Holy Night, so we'll have to see how he can wrestle the injuries and Vic Williams here tonight.

[While JD walks around the ring, "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward breaks the cheers from the crowd and turns them into a hushed jeer. The lights flicker on and off, along with the music's beat. As the music hits the fast and furious recognizable part, Vic Williams steps through the curtains. Dressed in black leather, nearly head to two, Williams stalks to the ring. His face as still as stone, Vic grabs the top rope and pulls himself onto the apron, stepping through. Striking a short Jesus Christ pose, Williams then drops his leather trench coat to the floor outside the ring. The music comes to an end, as the two combatants gaze at the hell they have gotten themselves into.]

Jeff: Assault and Battery Match, Tim.. Are you ready?!

Tim: Indeed I am, Jeff.. It's been along time coming to see these men lock up again.. That last time was at Reckless Behavior, when Vic Williams defeated Insomnia, Brady's former self.

Jeff: That was a while ago Tim, things may be different now.

Tim: Only one way to find out!

[The bell sounds]

Tim: This Assault and Battery match has officially started!

[JD Brady rushes into the face of Vic Williams, wasting no time in trading punches. The two rock each other and back and forth, blow after blow to the face. Vic seemingly gets the advantage but after trying a third punch in succession, Brady ducks and grabs Vic's arm. JD wrenches Williams' arm behind his back, then steps over, tripping Vic. Williams only has one arm free to try and cushion the fall, but that doesn't help much as "The Original Prankster" just powers Vic straight to the plywood mat!]

Jeff: Oh! JD Brady tripped Vic and sent him face first into the plywood!

[JD quickly gets to his feet as does Vic, who is enraged. Williams rushes into Brady and connects with repeated body blows, fast and furious. Vic backs JD into the ropes and whips him across the ropes. As JD comes back, Vic attempts a wild clothesline but Brady ducks under and continues running. Vic, thinking Brady is behind him, kicks back to low blow The Prankster, but after hitting air, he turns around confused. Before he can realize what's coming, Brady has hit an Asai moonsault out of a springboard back into the ring, connecting and bringing both men to a loud smack against the plywood.]

Tim: Asai moonsault catches Vic!

Jeff: Vic was pranked that time!

[Brady gets up and walks away from Vic, raising his arms for a pop from the fans.]

Tim: He shouldn't be cocky and let Vic get rested!

[It's too late as the cagey veteran, Vic Williams, is back to his feet and standing behind The Original Prankster. JD Brady turns around into a crude kick to the groin and an Ace Crusher!!!]

Jeff: Ace Crusher by Williams!

[Vic gets up and pulls Brady to his feet. Williams grabs Brady and goes to throw him through the ropes. But when he throws him, Brady grabs onto the ropes and elbows Vic in the stomach. Vic stumbles away, having his breath knocked out. He turns into a kick to the midsection and a front chancery quickly turns into a DDT, driving Vic's skull into the plywood again. Brady steps over and locks on a modified camel clutch, sitting far back on Vic's back.]

Tim: Vic Williams is being stretched to his limits!

[After a good twenty seconds, Brady releases the hold and gets to his feet. Brady lays the boots to Vic's back, for good measure. JD grabs Vic's long blonde hair and drags him up to his feet. Brady points to the thumbtacks and beds of nails outside the ring to a resounding pop from the fans.]

Jeff: Here it comes, Tim! We may see Vic turned into a human pincushion!

[JD has a handful of Vic's hair and runs across the plywood mat and stops at the ropes, throwing Vic Williams up and over the ropes! The fans all jump to their feet as the horrific sound of Vic's body crashing into the nails and tacks!!!]

Tim: HOLY SHIT!

[The fans respond with the same sentiment, chanting "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"]

[The camera quickly goes to Vic on the floor, as he rolls around in the pile of tacks. Metallic objects stick out of his flesh, in his hair, and everywhere on his body. Sadistically enough, a slight smirk of enjoyment is etched in the face of Williams!!]

Jeff: JESUS CHRIST, the man is SMILING!

[JD Brady takes no time to hop through the ropes, on the side nearest the crew. Brady quickly grabs a lonely chair and folds it closed. He treads his way through the thumbtacks as he circles the ring to comes to the side with Williams on it. Brady turns and soundly wedges the chair in between the plywood mat and bottom turnbuckle right beside the ring post.]

Tim: JD Brady has wedged the chair near the ring post, and only god knows what the hell he could be thinking of doing.

[Brady walks over the heap that is Vic Williams and grabs him by the hair. Brady pulls Vic up off the bed of nails which has left numerous straight rows of holes in the side of Vic. Williams retaliates with a hard uppercut to the throat to knock Brady back against the ring apron. Vic grabs a handful of tacks and yanks them out of his hair. He looks at each pointed tack, the drip of blood on some. In a rage, Vic pounces on JD Brady, repeatedly punching Brady with the tacks sticking out of his clinched fist. Williams then opens the hand and grinds the tacks into the forehead of "The original Prankster" bringing a drip of blood from his flesh.]

Jeff: Both men are now bleeding and Vic has smelled blood... He's like a GODDAMN SHARK!

[Vic continues to grind the tacks into the face of JD. Brady kicks Vic in the groin to stop the punishment momentarily. Brady runs and leaps, grabbing Vic's head in midair with a bulldog into the tacks!!]

[HWF! HWF! HWF!]

Tim: Good God! JD Brady just bulldogged Vic Williams into the tacks!

[Both men are in a heap on the floor, tacks just completely covering their bodies. Vic rolls over, blood running over his face, dripping to the floor. Brady is sitting in tacks, his body slumped over to the left with his skull "resting" on the steel guardrail.]

Jeff: Vic's blonde hair is beginning to turn a sickening red color from all of that blood!

[Brady is the first to budge, slowly pulls himself up using the railing and aid from the front row fans. He gets to his feet, then bends over to get his breath. He does then reaches down to grab Vic Williams by the hair and pulls Vic's heap of a body to his knees. Vic reaches wildly to grab something to get up. He grabs Brady by the hair and begins to pull himself up until Brady drives a fist into the open gash on Vic's forehead.]

Tim: This is ultra violent!

[Vic's face, now a crimson mask, stares up at JD Brady who continues to punch away at Williams. Vic will not fall back down and instead continues to fight to his feet. Vic lunges forward with a desperation low blow. JD Brady is wobbly but manages to brace himself against the railing, holding his groin. This gives Vic time to get up and slowly limp towards the ring. He rolls in, then crawls to the near corner, grabbing the chair that JD put there earlier. Vic frees the chair from the wedge and pulls it into the ring. Vic stands up, definitely losing a good amount of blood. Brady begins to stagger towards the ring, sending Vic to take a few steps back.]

Jeff: Vic's going to let Brady in peacefully?!

[On the contrary, Williams then runs forward, dives over the top ropes with the chair and connects with a suicidal leap onto JD!! The two men crash back into the railing, sliding it into the laps of the front row spectators. Both men are surprisingly standing, although held up by the railing.]

Tim: You were very wrong, Jeff! Very wrong!

[Williams grabs Brady nonchalantly, then suddenly drops with the 3D onto a bed of nails and thousands of thumbtacks!!!]

Jeff: OH MY GOD!!!

[The fans are surprised as hell and even start another "HOLY SHIT!" chant. Vic rolls Brady over on the floor and drapes an arm over his bloody opponent, as the shocked referee has nothing to do except count.]

[One... ...Two... ...THREE!!]

Tim: Vic Williams has won the Assault and Battery match with his legendary finisher, the Downward Dungeon Drop!!!

["Save Yourself" plays again as the fans applaud both men, who lie motionless in a sea of tacks and nails. EMT's are racing down the aisle to reach the two men as the screen goes to commercial.]

[Commercials]

[Cut to backstage, in the Xtreme Alliance's locker room. Lance Sterling is sitting down on a couch, pulling on his right boot and tying it. He's looking right across the room, at the imposing presence of Renegade.]

Sterling: You ready to go? It's just about time for us to go out there and give those has-beens the fight of their stinkin' life.

Renegade: Oh yeah baby. I got a little suprise in store. Tonight, we WILL see the return of a former HWF hardcore champ.

[Sterling laughs and flashes a knowing smile. He finishes lacing up his boots and rises to his feet].

Sterling: Great. Then there's just one thing left to do, man. Let's get Trey, go down to that ring, and show the Anti-Heroes what for. I'm sick and tired of that bullshit coming from them. You know what we need to do, now lets just do it and settle this once and for all. Its time to make history..and turn them INTO history.

Renegade: I can't wait. I am going to put a stop to has-beens who think they are running the show. The thing is this is MY...umm...YOUR show, and they can't do shit about it. Lost Soul can't just move on...how sad!

Sterling: And that's just why he's going to regret ever coming back to the HWF. This isn't a couple years ago. This isn't his time, its MINE. And yours. And Trey's. If he won't listen to reason, then we'll just have to beat it into him.

Renegade: Let's go kick some ass, bro.

[Sterling walks over to Renegade and gives him a hi-five with both fists. The two of them slowly walk outside the locker room, and pause in the hallway.]

Sterling: Let's go get Trey, and finish the job.

[The two of them turn and walk down towards the curtains as the camera returns to ringside.]

Tim: Sterling/Trey/Renegade vs. The Anti-Heroes! Its coming up next!

Jeff: I can't wait! The battle to end all battles, NEXT!

[The shot cuts to the man at ringside again, The man is sitting in the middle area of the floor seating. He is just sitting there nonchalantly with no real expression on his face. He has long dyed red fuscia hair that is dreaded at the ends. His facial hair is shaved oddly. He is wearing 3/4 cutoff black and white camouflage pants with a long sleeve Infinity Minus One band shirt. On the front, their is a drawing of a skeleton looking at a dictionary. The skeleton is wearing a watch that is cracked and he is looking at the definition of the word “Extinction.” Going down the sleeves is the bands logo symbol. And on the upper back area is their web site URL reading http://www.infinityminusone.com.]

Tim: Wait... I know that guy is now!!

Jeff: Who is it then!?!

Tim: It's... It's...

[Commercials]

[The camera fades back in to the shot of the man at ringside, there in an eerie silence i nthe arena.]

Tim: It's... The Saint!!

Jeff: THE SAINT!?! ... Oh... oh yeah, it does resemb... it IS HIM!!

[The Saint's reaction doesn't change.]

Tim: What does HE want?

Jeff: Maybe he's here for his hatred of Michael Trey... maybe he's here for his former friend Vic Williams...

Tim: Well, whatever he's doing here; he better not get involved... he's not employed anymore...

Jeff: Yeah... let's get to the main event...

[The lights fade out, as orange lights start to strobe through the crowd. The voice of Rykopathe mutters out "Cause I'm one step closer...", followed by One Step Closer by Linkin Park blast through the arena. J. Simon Rykopathe emerges from the back to a mix of boos and cheers. With a chair in hand, he waives off the crowd, as from behind him emerge firstly, Phoenix...looking different this time, still dragging the Hardcore Title, but not wearing his "Zero" t-shirt. Instead he is wearing the same Trevor Lasek "SHXT" as seen in an earlier Phoenix promo from in the week. The sleeves, are however, torn off to suit the Phoenix style. As Rykopathe and Phoenix proceed slowly to the ring, following behind Phoenix is HWF Legend, The Lost Soul, he comes down the walkway in a very dark green coat that comes down to his knees - buttoned up all the way to his neck - and the collar coming over to just about below his ears. His long red hair flows down behind the coat - and barely underneath it do you see a dark ruby shirt that is very tight - showing his muscles well. His pants are a simply dark blue khaki - and he wears 64 eye black boots down to the ring. His eyes are a light blue - you can almost see through them but something prevents you - as The 3 Men reach the ring and slide under the bottom rope. The Strobe continues as does the boos, untill they reach their "corner" and start to plot as the music cuts to a close.]

Nigel Rolston: Introducing first, Phoenix, The Lost Soul and J.Simon Rykopathe.....The Anti-HEEEEEEEROES!

Tim: The fans really hate these guys.

Jeff: Either way, they're going to loose tonight!

Tim: Okay, how do you scientifically answer that?

Jeff: Well, Lance Sterling...erm, Maxx Power is the GREATEST!

Tim: I said scientifically ya dumb fuckstick!

Jeff: Well, When you take xTa and Add One, you get Tag Team Champions, World Champion plus Renegade. Then, if you take ....

Tim: Just shut the hell up man, I've had about enough of you tonight.

Jeff: Wow, aren't you the raggy bastard? That time of the month Miss, Miss....Ms Timette?

Nigel Rolston: And introducing first from the team of Renegade and the X-treme Alliance, weighing in at 318 lbs, and from Phoenix, Arizona - RENEGADE!!

[The speakers don't make a sound, the crowd doesn't make a sound....this goes on for quite some time, as the crowd remains in a anxious hush.]

Tim: We're awaiting the arrival of Renegade.

Jeff: Where the hell is he?

[Then the lights slowly dim until they are pitch black. Then, they start flashing blue and red. The crowd is quiet and has no idea what is going on. When the lights return, "I Got One For Ya" by Kid Rock starts up over the speakers. The crowd slowly realizes what is happening...]

Tim: I remember that music!

Jeff: Nick Diamante??!

[The song continues as sure enough, silver glitter falls from the rafters, resembling diamonds. The crowd gives a small pop. After a few moments, Renegade comes out dressed in the old leather jacket and X-Tremists shirt, and the baggy jeans. The crowd goes ballistic! Renegade...or Nick Diamante...pulls a mic from his back pocket...]

Renegade: Well, greetings to all my fans in New York!

[The crowd gives a cheap pop]

Renegade:Great. I'm sure you are all wondering what the hell is going on, right? Well, I promised you the return of a former HWF Hardcore Champ, Nick Diamante! I figured, I am going to be kicking everyone's ass tonight, why not do it as Diamante? HELL NO!

[Renegade rips off the X-Tremists shirt to reveal a Renegade shirt and throws his leather jacket into the crowd. He pulls sunglasses and his bandanna out of his pocket as he puts them on as the crowd cheers. Renegade lifts to mic to speak again...]

Renegade:Now, if you don't quit understand what the hell I was doing, I was pretty much pulling a Lost Soul. Sure, Lost Soul didn't change his name, but he is still trying to live in the past. I have taken it a step up at changed my whole look, and now I have a chance to beat three of the bigest jackasses in the HWF! Now, Lost Soul, you need to just move on and stop living in your glory days. It's over, and I have been waiting anxiously to prove it to you. So, maybe after we all put your asses to shame tonight, you will realize you are an embarrassment to the business. Now, Sterling, Trey, we have a match to win so hurry your asses up!

Tim: Um, did he just try and prove something then?

Jeff: I think so!

Tim: Well...he...um...yeah...accomplished it, yeah, that's it!

[Renegade starts to amble down to halfway ringside before "Blood Brothers" by Papa Roach electrifies the arena! The crowd instantly lets out a roar of deafening cheers as from the back emerge Lance Sterling, World Title around waist, Tag-Team gold over shoulder, arms raised and Michael Trey, with Tag-Team gold in hand. Trey doesn't look quite the same, Claire on his mind, and Collins of course. They meet up with Renegade, half way down the ailse, before dropping their gold and extra's and rushing to the ring. The camera quickly cuts to the audience again. The Saint still remains, finally he has moved though, he's now placed his elbows on his knees, and made a fist with his left hand, sitting the right hand over the top and rests his chin on his hands - this shows a more "interested" look on the Saint's behalf, why? Is he more interested because of hid hatred for Michael Trey, or because of his former friend Vic Williams' stable is competing? The camera cuts back to the ring....]

Jeff: In the words of Korn...."It's ON!"

Tim: Since when have you been the music expert?

[The Anti-Heroes remain unmoved in their corner, Sterling instantly upon entering the ring making a mad-man dash towards Rykopathe who smirks, and let's Phoenix and Lost Soul stand between him and Sterling. Rykopathe, sticks his head and upperbody outside the ring, between the top and bottom rope in a "Sarcastic" cowardly look as he still remains facing Sterling, but at an instant can escape. Trey and Renegade stand behind Sterling as finally the ref get's the bell rung.]

Tim: Seems the Heroes have a plan.

[Sterling looks hella piz-issed, as he huffs and puffs, and turns his back towards the Anti-Heroes corner, and faces Trey and Renegade. He gives the signal with his eyebrows, and snaps around, the X-Treme Alliance rushing over, and each man-ing up on a Anti-Hero member. Trey and Lost Soul go hammers, while Renegade and Phoenix square off. Sterling breaks through the fighting crowd and goes for Ryko, who's easilly fled to outside, the now trademarked smirk firm on his face.]

Jeff: Common Lance! Go out there and get that f'n bum!

[You can see Sterling stand on the bottom rope, leaning over the top, bad mouthing Ryko and trying to slap him like a he-bitch every time he got too close. Behind him Renegade and Phoenix are continuing to pummel each other fruitless with right hands, and Trey and Lost Soul try and grapple each other too the ground. Ref. Chucky Bullard can't contain the action back into their respecfull corners, and seems to give up hope, letting all 6 men fight in a "Texas Tornado" style event. Trey cops a right hand from hell from the Lost Soul, and stumbles back into the far corner, upon hearing this Sterling turns to see how he's partner is coping. Ryko capitalizes, and grabs Sterlings legs. He then whips them out from under him, Sterlings "Made for Hollywood" face hitting the mat hard with a thud, before Ryko pulls him to the outside.]

Tim: Ow! I think Sterling's jaw is broken.

Jeff: Ahhh, commmon, this man is the greatest. If it wasn't for that bitch Trey distracting him, he wouldn't of been in trouble.

[As Ryko pulls Sterling to the outside, he immediately starts flaying into Sterlings "proboscis" (see dictionary) rights and lefts that'd make Muhamad Ali cringe. Speaking of Ali, was he also the Greatest?! In the battle between Phoenix and Renegade, Phoenix has got the upperhand, drilling Renegade's face with the Hardcore Title, this sends Renegade stumbling back into the corner, his head now "Busted Open". Phoenix turns to look at the cheering fans, before grabbling Renegade's right leg and putting it up and over the middle rope. He then grabs his left leg and does the same. As you can see Renegade's plea through his eyes, Phoenix sits the title across his crotchal area, and turns, walks away, turns back, strolls in and delivers a nice Lebenese Half-Turn Heel kick right to the Love Spuds in the most casual "Just Like Any Day" motion. Renegade immediately crunches up, dropping face first on the ground in front of him.]

Jeff: Like, totally painfull and stuff! Sweet, go Phoenix go!

Tim: I thought you liked Sterling?

Jeff: Of course, but I also like pain!

[Trey still without hope, recieves a kick from the "perfectly sane" Lost Soul, The Lost Soul then quickly locks on a front face lock, before picking Trey straight up with a stalling verticle suplex. The smaller Trey hangs precariously in the air, before the much stronger Lost Soul turns and faces the crowd, and more importantly the crowd barricade. The Lost Soul, smiles - only with his eyes, before dropping Trey ribs first across the barricade, BUT, still keeps the front facelock on. The muffled screams from Trey continue as The Lost Soul drops Trey into a DDT, causing a very High-Angle version as Trey was hung out to dry on the barricade. Trey's hurt body rolls over on to his back, as The Lost Soul stands up, and breaks a piece of the barricade away, he pulls it around, till it's almost 90degrees to the Ring Apron. After laying in some nice Martial Arts style chops and punches on Trey, the Lost Soul picks Trey up in an inverted Crucifix, and starts to walk across to the barricade, easilly carrying the helpless Trey.]

Jeff: YES! Kill him! Kill Trey!

[Lost Soul then heaves Trey up in what seems to be a throat first powerbomb type move, but Trey grabs Soul in a bulldog facelock on the way down, and landing feet first on the barricade, showing marvelous balancing skill. Trey then turns and jumps up, springboarding off the middle rope, still holding a chunk of the Soul's hair, and flying over the top of the barricade, slamming L.S viciously into the barricade, but managing to hurt himself in the process by crashing back first into the other barricade after an awkward landing, both men lay motionless, as to the outside of the ring, Sterling and Ryko continue their now even assault on each other, neither man seems really hurt. But the thought of loosing "pride" continues to fuel their fires. Sterling blocks a right hand from Rykopathe, and staggers him backward with a blow of his own. Sterling grabs a handful of Rykopathe's hair and slams his head into the guardrail. He pulls his head backwards, yells something inaudible in his face, and rams his head again into the guardrail. As Rykopathe staggers, holding his face, Sterling runs and jumps, smashing a forearm into his chin. Sterling rolls Rykopathe inside the ring and, grabbing both his legs, pulls him groin-first into the metal turnbuckle. Sterling climbs onto the apron and raises a fist in the air, then locks his leg around Rykopathe's, stepping around and dropping backwards in a reverse Figure-Four coupled with the metal.]

Tim: HOLLYWOOD AND VINE! Oh my god that has GOT to hurt! Just imagine the pain Rykopathe must be in, and Sterling isn't letting go!

Jeff: Man, shut up! I can only imagine how much that hurts. I can't even look!

Tim: Sterling isn't going to show any mercy in this match! This is war! Its war!!

Jeff [w/ eyes closed]: Keep on going, Sterling! Keep it up! Make him squeal in pain!

Tim: You're a sick, sick man Jeff.

Jeff: No, I'm perfectly healthy, I just got back from my rutine Doctorial check-up this very morning. No problems, except for the always lack of Semen back-up due to everynight action, but who cares about that?

[As Sterling finally let's go, Phoenix inside the ring - has sent Renegade to the outside, Phoenix's "home". Phoenix grabs Renegade, who is favoring his scrotom, and whips him hard into the guardrail. The loud noise of Renegade on Steel echos through the arena, Phoenix seems to thrive on it as he charges at Renegade and throws his own body, to the amusement of the crowd, at Renegade with a huge Cross Body, sending them both crashing over into the crowd. Phoenix instantly getting to his feet, turning to look at Renegade who landed backwards on his neck, probably breaking it, but it's the HWF, who cares?! Phoenix looks around, probably for a weapon, before spotting a "goth" type man in a Trevor Lasek "SHXT" shirt, the same one Phoenix is wearing. The goth, takes off his spiked dog collar, and grins, his black lipstick painted mouth showing his green-tinged teeth, before throwing the dog-collar to Phoenix. A un-sure look creeps over Phoenix, before he wraps the collar around his fist, and walks over to Renegade. As Phoenix bends down to punch Renegade in the skull, Renegade grabs Phoenix's tights and sends him stumbling head first into the guardrail, putting a head sized dent in the steel. Phoenix slumps to the ground, as Renegade slowly makes it to his feet. He looks at the barricade which has crashed to the floor, before picking up Phoenix and chokeslamming him back first onto the guardrail. Upon impact, the instand body twitching action occurs as Phoenix clutches his back and squirms around in a bit of pain before rolling off the rail and to the ring apron, where he tries to pull himself to his feet.]

Tim: Shit, Phoenix is one tough cookie.

Jeff: He should just die, so Team Lance Sterling can get the win.

Tim: [shakes head in disgust]

Jeff: Go T.L.S! Go T.L.S!

Tim: I thought you hated "The Lost Soul" [Starts to chuckle, the chuckle turns into a hyena-esque laugh as he clutches his stomach in agony, before whiping the tears from his eyes.]

[After a few Trey-esque moves, "The Forgotten Bastard" rolls The Lost Soul into the ring, Trey grabs a nearby steel chair and throws it in the ring, straight at The Lost Soul in a almost Steve Austin style motion. Mikey Mike hops up to the apron, and slingshots in with a rolling senton splash to the back of The Lost Soul before sliding across, and picking the chair up in one motion. He holds the chair in his left hand, while motioning to The Soul to get his ass up this instant! As The Lost Soul pulls himself up to his feet, he turns around to catch a flying chair, followed by a huge Jumping Outside Crescent Kick (Harlem Sidekick) to the chair, to the skull of the Soul. The chair remains attached to his head, but he doesn't fall down, instead The Lost Soul stumbles back into a corner to remain standing.Trey immediately runs at him, attempting to monkey flip him out of the corner. The Soul just pushes the smaller Trey to the floor, still trying to pull the chair from across his head. Trey's tenacity shows through as he's back to his feet, running back at the Soul and almost taking his head off with a crazy spur-of-the-moment flying spinning heel kick that sends Trey awkwardly tumbling head first onto the apron, then onto the floor. The crowd, bursts into H-W-F chants, as the Lost Soul collapses to the ground.]

Tim: God damn Trey, you're going to kill yourself! Show some sense!

[Ryko and Sterling are now inside the ring, along with Phoenix and Renegade, Ryko seems to shrug Sterling off, tackling Renegade to the floor. Leaving the hurt Phoenix in the arms of Lance Sterling.]

Tim: This is almost present vs future right here folks!

[Phoenix, upon realising his opportinuty triest to capitalise by charging at Sterling. Sterling, the bigger man, easily overpowers Phoenix, senind him over the top rope with a HUGE back body drop, Phoenix landing back first onto the "concrete", his head whiplashing straigh into it and his eyes closing immediately.]

Jeff: GO STERLING GO!

Tim: Shut up, Call the paramedics, Phoenix is dead!

[As the camera pans around to see Phoenix, in the background you can still see "The Saint". Un-moved since last camera-pan, he almost seems southed by the body of a human crashing into the ground. Although his face hasn't changed, you can see it in his eyes. Renegade sends Ryko, who's hitting him with UFC style punches, off the top of him, to the outside. Lost Soul has managed to get the chair off his head, and has stumbled across to where Renegade and Lance Sterling are now standing. Renegade hits a low blow on Lost Soul. He motions over to Sterling who kicks the downed Lost Soul and hits him in the middle of his spinal column with a double-axehandle. Renegade hoists Lost Soul to his feet and scoops him up, setting him in a belly-to-belly position with his head cradled between his legs. Sterling climbs the turnbuckle as Renegade maneuvers closer. Sterling leaps off the second rope, grabbing Lost Soul's legs and driving him downward as Renegade drops down into a sitdown Tombstone piledriver. Lost Soul's head bounces off the ring as the move impacts, sending a chorus of "Holy Shit!" chants through the crowd.]

Tim: Holy SHIT! A spiked Tombstone! Lost Soul could have a concussion! Hell, he could have broken his neck!

Jeff: KILL HIM! C'MON STERLING, KILL HIM!

Tim: You're fucking sick, you know that?

Jeff: Yep, and I'm damn proud too! Don't stop Lance, go for the kill!

[As Renegade goes for the first Pin, Ryko has grabbed a chair from the outside. He springs up onto the top rope, and springboards off, sliding the chair under his ass, and landing across the back of Renegade's head with it. Ryko instantly jumps up, jumping around holding his jarred tailbone, before turning around to get levelled by a HUGE clotheline coming direct from Lance Sterling Industries. Ryko's body does a "Made-Famous-By-Rikishi-Flip" and lands almost comedicially unmoved on the ground. Lance sighs, and picks up Ryko by the "collar". He holds him there and proceeds to tell him who's boss. Suddenly, Ryko's eyes open, and with a smile, JSR kicks LS right in the ballsac, he then slips Lance into an Reverse-Russian-Legsweep set-up, and moves his body to the left, Ryko then does a huge mid-air kick, before bringing it sweeping back, taking the legs-out-from-under-Lance and driving him down with the "Punk Rock Plunge" (STO) The force of impact is so huge, it sends Lance tumbling backwards and landing on his stomach. Lance rolls to the outside to safety.]

Jeff: NOOOOO! NOOOOO! Damn you Rykocrap!

[Ryko, stands up and looks pleased with what he's done. But without him knowing, Trey's snuck in behind him, Ryko gets snapped back into an inverted faclock, before Trey takes him "Back in the Day" (Inverted Twist of Fate). Trey starts stomping, Ryko, almost out the ring, as Lost Soul has started to assault Renegade. On the outside, where Lance is "safe" is Phoenix, who has shruged off his backpain, and grabbed the timekeepers bell. Sterling turns around, and BAM! Phoenix plasters his snoz with a bellshot, a "Ding!" is echoed through the arena, and Sterling goes down.]

Tim: Oh my god! That happened right in front of us!

Jeff: [Almost bursts into tears, remaining silent, but sobbing]

[After Trey kicks Ryko out the ring, he turns to see The Lost Soul kicking Renegade. The Soul turns to Trey, Trey looks like he's thought of something. He then snaps, and charges at The Lost Soul in a Fit of Rage but stops short, and get's planted with a sickening looking Standing Planted Sidekick, that would of kicked a normal man's head clean off it's shoulders. As Trey's body hits the ground, The Lost Soul kicks him again, viciously in the temple with a Soccerkick, before returning his attention to Renegade. Back to Phoenix, who's rolled Lance up onto Jim and Teff's announce table, and has started to cover Lance's body with chairs and the timekeepers bell. Phoenix grabs a remaining chair, and holds it to the sky, the crowd booing, but still cheering because they know they're about to see pain. Phoenix pulls his aching body up onto the ring apron, then scales the turnbuckle. In a scene from Superman, Phoenix flies like, well, um a Phoenix. In mid-air he puts the chair to his chest....]

Jeff: FUCK! Sterling...I gotta help you.

[Sure enough, Jeff grabs Sterling and pulls him out of the way. Phoenix seems to loose concentration due to this, and his splash falls short anyway, his chest landing across the edge of the table, causing a similar fall to Vice McMahon's Cage-Fall from St Valentine's revenge, where the table didn't break on impact, but a mere 2 seconds later causing it to look fuckloads more painfull. The rest of the chairs on the table collapse to the floor, as Phoenix rolls over, blood trickling from mouth, blood trickling from nose.]

Tim: How could you do that?! That's stepping, WAY, out of line!

Jeff: You can't have the WORLD champion injured. Lance is a Hollywood star, Phoenix is just trash.

[Even the crowd seemed shocked at Jeff's action, but start to scream H-W-F in resepect of what just happened. Lance slowly crawls to his feet, as Tim and Jeff remain standing, without a table. He steps over Phoenix, and slides into the Ring where Renegade and Lost Soul are fighting, and Trey still remains down after the Chopsoki Kick 'o Doom. Ryko remains on the outside, after only suffering a small "Back in the Day" from Trey. He peers over and looks in the ring, where Lost Soul remains against the whole X-Treme Alliance. Trey slowly get's to his feet, as Lost Soul uses some of his martial arts training to fend of Sterling and Renegade, but not keep them down. Trey, groggely is up, as Ryko slides in, a shiny metallic "small pole" shaped object in his right hand. Trey turns around, as Ryko floors him with the object. Sterling turns around, and Ryko cracks him across the head with it too.]

Tim: What the hell?!

[Ryko holds the item to the air.....to the shock of the audience....it was....an "Oscar"!?]

Tim: Sterling just got beat in the Oscars!

Jeff: This ain't time for humor, Sterling's down!

[Miraculously, on the outside, Phoenix has crawled his way, bleeding from inside, to the apron, he searches under, and pulls out a ladder. He sets it up next to the ring, before falling back down again.]

Tim: Phoenix still seems out of it.

[However he crawls back across to the ring and searches around, he pulls out small Zippo lighter, and shakes his head as if to say "Nah, that's not it." He then chucks the Lighter without thinking in the ring. He continues his search and pulls out, what he apparantly was after. It's a can....of what? After dousing his body in the liquid, it's easily obvious it's gasoline. Phoenix, now soaking wet, starts a climb up the ladder, slipping on a few steps, but managing to climb. Inside the ring Lost Soul "Raises High the Roof Beam" on Renegade, as Phoenix hits the pinnacle. The crowd, silent, as Phoenix digs around in his pockets. A look of pleasure drifts across his face, as he pulls out another jet lighter, it's small and silver, and upon holding it up for the crowd to see, there's a pop! He points to Trey who's now on the ground, memory's of Reckless Behavior cross the minds of viewers, the memories of Trey leaping off the ladder onto the stomach of Phoenix, 20 feet below....he then points to his shirt, then toward the sky, before striking the lighter and setting himself on fire. Phoenix then "leaps" off, almost in slow-motion, before crashing down HARD onto the sternum of Michael Trey, sending them through the apron, into the ring, under the impact. Trey's body, on fire, only momentarilly, Phoenix's body....rolling around to douse the fire from his body. The camera, instantly pans to the audience, The Saint almost smiling at the pain.]

Tim: SPLASH FROM HELL!

Jeff: SPLASH FROM HELL!

Tim and Jeff: HOLY MUH-FUCKING HELL!

Jeff: It's kinda ironic...

Tim: At a time like this, you think of irony?

Jeff: Well, Trey's the pyro, and he just got burnt! HAHAHAHAHH! Trey, cop that!

Tim: Anyway, I think Phoenix was just showing respect for his buddy that's in hospital in a coma, I think when Trev will see this on tape, he'll smile bigger then the Grand Canyon.

[Somehow, Phoenix emerges from below the ring, rolling out, while Pulling Trey. He rolls into the ring, and drags Trey in, but Trey shoves him off into the corner. Sterling trades blows back and forth with Rykopathe. Renegade manages to fight back, against the distracted Lost Soul, while Trey and Phoenix are battling it out in the corner. Renegade whips Lost Soul at Sterling, who whips Rykopathe in his way. The two men collide and both are down. Sterling runs over to Trey and the two start to double-team Phoenix. Sterling sits him on the second rope and grabs an arm; Trey does the same. Both of them execute a super double hiptoss, throwing Phoenix to the middle of the ring near his fallen comrades. Suddenly a man slides in from the crowd....and does a little dance, before sliding out....his head wrapped under a condom...before sliding out and through the crowd, for no apparant reason.]

Jeff: EL DILDO!! He's made a guest appearnce!!!

Tim: Sheesh....what a loser.

[Renegade walks over to Sterling and Trey, as Sterling looks at both of them. Sterling walks over to Rykopathe, Trey to Phoenix, and Renegade to Lost Soul. All three men pick their adversaries up. Sterling applies an inverted facelock on Rykopathe as Renegade applies a front facelock on Lost Soul. Trey, meanwhile, knees Phoenix in the gut and hooks both his arms. At the very same moment, Sterling lifts Rykopathe up in the air, as does Renegade with Lost Soul. The two men hold their respective foes up for a few seconds before slamming them down, Sterling into the Director's Cut and Renegade into the Fist of Rage. As they do this Trey somehow digs deep and lifts Phoenix up and smashes his head into the canvas in the Flash of Pain!]

Tim: DIRECTOR'S CUT, FIST OF RAGE AND FLASH OF PAIN!!! Triple finishers! All three of them hit their finishers!

Jeff: Hell yeah! Its over, baby! Its over!

[Seconds after hitting their respective finishing moves, all three men make the cover simultaneously as the crowd gets to their feet, counting along with the referee]

[One... Two... THREE!!]

Tim: Xtreme Alliance and Renegade win! They win! They win!

Jeff: FINALLY! They beat the Anti-Heroes! The past is dead, LONG LIVE THE FUTURE! Long live Sterling Augustus!!

Tim: Oh for the love of...is the fact that they won good enough? Do you HAVE to suck up to Lance every chance you get?

Jeff: Yes..yes I do. Because he's the greatest!

Tim: Greatest or not, Lance, Trey and Renegade are the winners after one of the most BRUTAL matches I've ever seen here in the HWF. And what a way to finish it off, too!

["Blood Brothers" blasts from the speakers as the victorious team of Sterling, Trey and Renegade each climb to a turnbuckle and raise their hands in victory. The crowd erupts with loud cheering, getting on their feet and chanting "tXA" over and over again. The three of them walk outside of the ring and parade around the ring as confetti begins to fall from above, littering the ringside area. They stop and stand next to each other, raising all their hands in the air again as the move up the ramp. The camera zooms in on the fallen forms of Lost Soul, J. Simon Rykopathe, and Phoenix, before switching to the crowd where The Saint is no-where to be seen, the crowd members beside him, remain the same, the Saint's seat, empty and cold, the camera then switches to X-Treme Alliance and Renegade. The Alliance step over the fallen victims, as Trey and Sterling exit the ring, but Renegade get's caught by Ryko around the ankle, and the Lost Soul has him around the mouth, muffling his screams, Ryko sends a shot into Renegade's kidney, Renegade trying not to flinch. Trey and Sterling, without knowing, get up to the ring enterence, before turning around and realising that Renegade isn't with them. Phoenix too is back up. Trey and Sterling turn to the ring, where the Anti-Heroes have Renegade, on his knees, Ryko with an arm bar on him. Phoenix calls for a mic, which is thrown in, Phoenix holds the mic to Ryko's mouth....]

Rykopathe: Lance Sterling, you fucking piece of shit, I want that fucking title shot that I've had in line, where the fuck is my title shot!? Give it to me, or this big tall wanker won't be able to tug it, because his fucking arm will be broken, understand?!

Sterling [Screaming w/out Mic]: This belt WON'T get disgraced by the likes of shit like you....

[Upon hearing this, Rykopathe wrenches it even more....a "pop" is heard, as Renegade drops to the ground, and Ryko shakes his head. The camera cuts back to The Saint, who has mysteriously disapeared.]

[After Suicide went off air....]

[EMT's rush out to help the fallen Renegade. Upon inspection, and Medical Treatment, it's been diagnosed as simply a popped shoulder. It was instantly popped back into place, with a 2-3 day healing period, if he didn't over use it.]