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January 20, 2001

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[6:32 pm | The Charlotte Coliseum, Charlotte North Carolina]

[The camera fades to a black screen that reads- EARLIER TODAY - in the center. The camera than switches to a beautiful and clean residential area. A women is walking her dog on the sidewalk. The camera fades in to one house, a familiar house. There are no cars in the driveway, but a car parked in front of the mailbox. There is a man and a women at the front door. We switch to another angle revealing the man and women to be Johnathon Storm and Casey "Sunshine" Band. They ring the door bell and wait for an answer. We switch to a behind angle waiting for an answer. No one is answering so the two turn around. Johnathon Storm turns towards the camera.]

Jonathan Storm: Well fans, here I am, beautiful South Florida. Why though? I'm searching. Now, this house you may or may not remember. This is the home of none other than Kevin Cronin, also known as Blackjack. Why go to his house though? Isn't he old news? I deserve respect damnit. I won the battle royal at Holy Night and I get no respect. I am the best damn pop singer ever and I still don't get any respect. Whats up with that? A talented wrestler and a talented singer with no respect? Whats the deal.

[Jonathan pauses for a few seconds.]

Jonathan Storm: Anyway, I am searching for Blackjack. Why him? See if I can beat him, maybe I can get some damn respect. But what do you know? He aint home. And for some reason, according to friends and neighbors, his black Navigator hasn't seen this driveway in a long while. So, from now on I will be searching for Kevin, until I do find him and then kill him so I can get some respect. Would anyone respect someone who beats a former World Champion and HWF Legend? Would you respect that, damnit?! Get this crap out of my face.

[Storm pushes that camera out of his face so we switch back to the far angle, from before. Storm and Casey Band is seen hopping into his car. The camera fades into an idle HWF logo, then to backstage. A cameraman walks around backstage, rounding corners and finally walking into the locker area for tXa and Michael Trey. Without knocking, the camera guy just walks in quietly. He hears Michael speaking, and slowly rounds the corner. There... is Michael. On one knee. Arm outstretched to no one, holding a small box.]

Michael: Claire... I want to... no... Can we... ugh no...

[Trey brings the box back to him, thinking for a moment carefully. He seemingly gets a clearer idea of what he wants to say, once again stretching out the box.]

Michael: Will you marry me? I know it's unexpected... but I love you. Nothing can or will change this... ever. I'll always care about you. Forever.

[Trey nods to himself and stands, snapping the ringbox shut and tucking it into his jacket pocket and turning from the camera. Fade to the arena. It then fades into an office, backstage at the Charlotte Coliseum. Sitting behind a desk is Tony Bradshaw, decked out in a classy black suit and blue striped tie. He's shuffling through some papers and, when he spots the camera, he gathers his things and then begins to address the camera.]

Tony Bradshaw: Hello HWF fans and welcome to Saturday Suicide... before getting on with the show; it's my duty to inform you of the dark match results.

[Tony gives a nod to somebody next to the camera.]

Tony Bradshaw: Alright, in a match not being shown on TV this week - The Wreckin' Crew took on the returning Warriors of the Rising Sun. The Wreckin' Crew dominated in the beginning, but then, this happened...

[Tony gives another nod to someone off camera and the scene suddenly fades in to the ring. Outside of the ring is Rickey Williams; staggering around a little. Inside the ring is Billy Williams, in the corner, and both Tatsumi and Jin from the Warriors. Tatsumi bounces off one of the ropes, leaps into the air, and corkscrews over the top rope; taking out Rickey Williams in the process. In the ring, Billy goes for a clothesline on Jin; but Jin ducks and hits him with the black mist, much to the crowd's delight. Tatsumi gets up and begins scaling the ropes as Jin hits Billy with a leaping roundhouse kick, then a leaping back kick, then a standing axe kick, and finally a straight kick. Billy slowly turns around, as Tatsumi front flips off the top rope, and catches Billy in a hurricanrana. He cradles him up, as Jin helps him. The ref makes the 3-count, and the shot slowly fades back into the office, as the Warriors celebrate.]

Tony Bradshaw: That's right, the Warriors of the Rising Sun pick up the win; beating a VERY talented Wreckin' Crew team. I'm sure this isn't the last battle between these two teams... Anyway, that's it for me; let's get on with the show.

[The shot cuts out and slowly fades into the arena, where you hear "Last Resort" by Papa Roach blasting through the speakers. About 4,000 or so HWF fans are on their feet and chanting "H-W-F, H-W-F". Suddenly though, you hear the familiar...]

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

[The music pumps from the speakers of the Charlotte Coliseum. Strobe lights begin to flash as the reigning HWF champion and half of the tag champions, Lance Sterling, walks out from behind the curtains and pauses, surveying the crowd in attendence. Tonight he's dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, with a black leather jacket to complete the apperance. The HWF title is belted around his waist, with one of the tag straps draped across his right shoulder. Sterling walks down towards the ring, climbs the steps, and stands on the apron. He raises both arms in the air as he turns to face the crowd, getting a huge round of cheers. He steps through the ropes as the music fades down.]

Lance Sterling: You know, last week I came out here, and I proved every single one of the goddamn Anti-Heroes wrong. Every last one of 'em. You three sons of bitches walk around like you're all high and mighty, especially you Rykopathe. I remember you and the "great" Lost Soul saying how Renegade, Trey, and myself had no chance against you two and Phoenix. And you know something? For a minute during that match, I thought you were right. I said to myself "Lance, do you know what you're up against? Can you beat the odds?". For a split second, the answer was "no". For a split second, Rykopathe..Phoenix..Lost Soul, I thought you had it won. And then, of course, like everything else..it changed. In fact, let's go back to last week on Suicide, and lets see exactly HOW it changed.

[The HWF-Tron flickers to life almost instantly, taking us back to last week on Suicide. The Main Event: The Anti Heroes vs. Lance Sterling, Renegade, and Michael Trey in a knock-down, drag out fight. After quickly going through some of the impressive spots in the match, a clip rolls of the match's end.]

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

Jeff (Replay): Hell yeah! Its over, baby! Its over!

[The HWF shows another replay of the three men hitting their respective finishers, before fading out. Sterling is clearly laughing the victory up, as evident by the smile on his face.]

Lance Sterling: And as we say in Hollywood...that's a wrap. That is what the Anti-Heroes get for thinking they're gods among men, when what they really are..heh, heh, heh, are dregs among gods among men. In other words, since I know Rykopathe is scratching his head in the back, wondering what the hell I just said, the Anti-Heroes just don't measure up to par with the rest of the HWF. Sure, you've collectively held a hell of a lot of titles, but as last week showed, you just don't have it in you anymore. Like I said in the past, Phoenix is probably the best guy in your little clique, and I for one have no clue why he even associated with a bunch of washed-up, no talent hacks who are trying to relive glory from what, ten years ago?

[The crowd laughs at the ten years comment, and gives Sterling a decent pop. Sterling looks around at them with the face of a comedian performing.]

Lance Sterling: It's the truth! And all of us, right here in Charolotte, North Carolina, know it!

[HUGE round of cheers from the crowd for mentioning their hometown. As always, the cheap pop never fails.]

Lance Sterling: But let's cut to the chase here. Rykopathe, I know you walk around backstage with your chest puffed out, like some kinda war hero, and you keep on thinking that you deserve a shot at the HWF title. But you know...I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK! You think I really give a damn that YOU think you deserve a shot at the title? What the hell have you done here lately, huh? You make brutal, uncalled for attacks on people like a big, brutish baby whenever something doesn't go your way. If you ask me, Rykopathe, you don't need a shot at the title, you need about a thirty-day suspension! So quit your damn whining, you little bitch. You aren't getting a title shot. In fact, there isn't a damn person in the back who's worthy enough to step in the ring with Lance Sterling. I can, and probably have, beaten every single person walking around back there, and why? Because I..AM THE GREAT--

[Before Sterling can get his sentence finished, the lights in the arena dim, and "Simon Says" by Drain STH begins to play. As the heavy part of the song hits, two shots of pyro blast straight up, and to the crowd's complete amazement, "The New Pop Sensation" Jonathan Storm rises up from a rotating platform! Wearing an Anaheim Angels jersey and cap, with some baggy black cargos, and new Oakleys to match, he struts down to the ring, Casey "Sunshine" Band behind him, holding onto the "HWF Scientific Title". He gets into the ring, holding the ropes for Casey, and gets right into Sterling's face, GRABBING the microphone from Lance, and he speaks.]

Storm: Lance, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were as mediocre as the Panthers, the Hurricanes, the Hornets, or just about anything else that ever walked out of North Carolina. Let me explain something to you, Lance Sterling. Ever since I've been here, every week, you fight the same people. The Anti-Heroes, Coens, Scruggs, Extream, and the list goes on and on. You've never fought me. You've never fought that bastard Chris Davison. You've never even fought Jack Daddy. All you've done is beaten the same men week in and week out. All of a sudden that makes you "The Greatest"? Allow me to hit you with a reality check. It's called "The Storm Point of View". It involves me pulling your head out of your ass, and then proceeding to kick said ass from post to post, taking every shred of dignity away from you, and then hitting the pay window, to get the winner's share. You just don't get it, do you? I'll go slower, just because your idiotic brain can't handle it.

[He steps back, basking in the heat he's getting. He smiles, and then points down to his "Scientific Title"]

Storm: My belt...good. Your belt...[points to the World Title] Cracker Jack toy. Storm whip Sterling's ass good. Send him to retirement home. Was that simple enough, even for your puny brain to process? Lance, you've NEVER had a challenge like the one I provide, and that's only because you've ducked me from day one. From the minute I got here, I called you out. I insulted you, I trashed you, and I dragged you through the mud, all to get your attention. Apparently that didn't work, so I'm just going to have to grab your attention myself. Now that I have it, I have a bitter pill for you to swallow. Until you face me, in a one on one setting, I'm going to be the biggest damn thorn in your side since that crappy student film you made back in college. I can do that too, you know why?

The looks...the skills...face it chumply, I'm POP PERFECTION!

[Sterling sneers towards Storm and grabs the microphone. He narrows his eyes and looks right into Storm's]

Lance Sterling: There's one thing I wanna know, boy. Who the hell do you think you are, interupting one of my interviews with your meaningless garbage? You think I really give a damn about what you claim you are? You haven't proven a thing here, so you got a hell of a lot of nerve trying to look all big and bad out here, so maybe the fans here will take your chump ass seriously. That might work on them, but not on me, Jonny. You come out here with your fake little title, and call the biggest prize in the game a...Cracker Jack prize?!? You know, you're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight, or else I'd show every fan in attendance just how pathetic you really are.

Storm: Sterling, please...your yelling just makes you look like you're overcompensating for a really small penis. You want to show the world how pathetic I am?! Lance, listen...I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really nothing more than one of the special effects in one of your movies. All flash, and NO substance.

Lance Sterling: ...is that so? Then answer me this: If I'm all flash, and nothing else why am I not only a 3-time HWF Champion, but the ONLY 3-time tag champion AND on top of that, a Hall of Famer here. And what are you? Nothing. You had to make up some fake title belt and give it to yourself, just so people think you're somebody, when you're a nobody. Maybe you should go back to fighting the kind of trash you're used to, instead of trying to play with the big boys.

Storm: Because it's all fake...just like your muscles. You want to prove me wrong, Lance-O? You want to show the whole world just how "wrong" I am? You want these people to see the type of "trash" you think I am? Well, your script writers will have to do a lot of editing, Sterls. This is the real world, and in this newfound contraption to you we like to call "reality" I'm the best damn wrestler in the world. Pound for pound, there is not a single person who can best me, and I'm willing to put money on that.

[The crowd springs to life, bombarding Storm with chats of "Asshole"]

Storm: So next week, I'll put my gold aside, you put your tin aside, and this one is for 50,000 dollars. I'm willing to wager that much to prove that no matter how good you are, you're nowhere near Pop Perfection.

[He smirks.]

Lance Sterling: Fifty grand, huh? You do realize that's pocket change to me, dontcha? But you know...I always love a good bet. I'll take you up on your offer, Jonny-boy. And next week the HWF'll see why I'm the top man in this company, and you're way at the bottom where trash belongs.

Storm: No...you don't get this, do you, Sterling? This is HIGH STAKES. I put up fifty grand? You put up fifty grand, and then we'll find out EXACTLY who the best wrestler in the HWF is, and it AIN'T Lance Sterling.

[He slaps Sterling, eliciting a chuckle from Casey, and an "ooh..." from the fans.]

Lance Sterling: You know..you're really pushing your luck. You've got guts, kid, I'll give you that. Nobody else here would have the balls to come out here and do what you just did. You've got yourself a bet. Oh and Jonny, good luck. You're gonna be needing it.

[Sterling drops the microphone as "The Memory Remains" hits the speakers again. Completely ignoring Storm, Sterling climbs to the top rope and shows off the HWF world title before climbing back through the ropes and walking backwards up the aisle, focusing his eyes on Storm, who remains in the ring. Sterling silenly mouths the words "You're gonna get it, you son of a bitch" before turning around and walking through the curtains.]

Tim: Next week! Sterling vs. Storm! With $100,000 on the line as well!

Jeff: Sterling's gonna beat the hell outta him! Because HE IS THE GREATEST!

Tim: Don't you EVER stop?

Jeff: No.

Tim: Didn't think so...

[Commercials]

[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: Night Stalker and Tempest have a little feud brewing, we'll have to see if he can put that aside to get a shot at the Canadian champ, whoever that may be after tonight.

[The lights in the arena go out as the techno sound of Rob Zombie's "Dragula remix" hit loudly throughout the arena. Blue, Red and Purple spotlights flash on and off all around the arena almost like a dangerous lightning storm. Strange voices echo quietly in the song as the tune of the music begins to pick up. As the music builds up all lights go off leaving the ring in pitch-blackness while only blue strobe lights flash down on the ramp revealing a large man crouched down on one knee on the stage. As Rob Zombie begins to "sing" Mayhem begins to slowly rise to his feet. Walking slowly down the ramp he stops as the music hits a strange stutter...then with an incredible burst of speed Mayhem bold down to the ring as the song hits it chorus. Sliding into the ring he quickly stand and roars loud. The blue lights making him look even more like a monster. As the song fades the lights do as well and Mayhem stands quietly the lights of the arena reflecting off his mask.]

Tim: So this match will decide who gets a shot at the Canadian title... A belt I'm sure Mayhem and Night Stalker would both be ecstatic to have.

[The bell rings as the two men being to circle, loosening up as they go. They then stop and come together with a collar and elbow tie up. Mayhem quickly turns it into an arm wrench. He then bends the arm behind Stalker's body, gaining complete control. Mayhem steps over and grabs Night Stalker's left arm with his left hand, driving Night Stalker face first into the mat.]

Jeff: Some early technical wrestling from Mayhem.

[Mayhem locks his arms underneath Stalker, around his waist. Mayhem then stands up, holding Night Stalker in a wheel barrow suplex-type position. Mayhem lifts Stalker up, so that Stalker is parallel to the mat. Mayhem drops to a sitting position, sending Night Stalker into the canvas.]

Tim: Mayhem connects with a wheel barrow slam into a sitting face first powerbomb!!

[Mayhem shoves Night Stalker's body off of him, turning Stalker over onto his back. Mayhem stands up and grabs Night Stalker by the hair. He pulls Stalker up and applies a front chancery. Mayhem hooks Night Stalker by the waste and goes for a suplex, but Stalker places a foot on the inside of Mayhem's knee to block the suplex. Night Stalker reverses the suplex and lifts Mayhem vertical, holding him there.]

Jeff: What a show of power from Night Stalker! Mayhem has a 40 pound weight advantage on Night Stalker, but Stalker doesn't seem to lack any strength.

[After holding Mayhem vertically upside down for a good 15 seconds, Night Stalker allows Mayhem to fall forward. Stalker sits and drills Mayhem with a falling X-Factor!!]

Tim: Night Stalker with a huge face first mat slam out of a hanging vertical suplex!!

Tim: It's THE SAINT!!

[The Saint is wearing black and purple 3/4 cut off camouflage pants. With a black long sleeve shirt that says in white lettering. “Why Don’t You Kill Me...I Am Already Dead?” His dreaded, dyed red/fuscia hair looks crazier then last week. You notice he has two stick piercings on his left eyebrow now. He's watching the match, just as any other fan.]

Jeff: Why's he here, again!?!

Tim: I dunno, but it doesn't seem to be slowing Night Stalker down...

[Night Stalker stands up and pulls Mayhem to his feet. Night Stalker grabs Mayhem by the arm and whips him to the ropes. Stalker catches Mayhem in a clothesline, but Mayhem blocks it. With the momentum, Mayhem is swung on Stalker's arm like in a swinging Uranage slam. In the swing, Mayhem puts his arm in front of Stalker's face, falling to the mat. Mayhem connects with a Flatliner!!]

Jeff: Mayhem just hit a variation of Vic Williams' Downward Dungeon Drop!

[Mayhem rolls Night Stalker over and hooks one of his legs in a pin attempt.]

[One... ...Two.. ...Th...KICKOUT!!]

Tim: A two count for Mayhem.

[Mayhem grabs Night Stalker by the head and brings him up into a standing head scissors. Mayhem wraps his arms around Night Stalker's waist and lifts him upside down. Mayhem turns in a complete circle, allowing everyone to see Stalker -and to allow the blood to rush to his head. Mayhem finally falls into a sitting position, spiking Night Stalker like a lawn dart!!]

Jeff: Piledriver from Mayhem!!

[Mayhem is quick to his feet and pulls his opponent up by the hair. Mayhem whips Night Stalker across the ring into the ropes. Night Stalker ducks a clothesline, as Mayhem spins around he's caught in a front chancery. Night Stalker lifts Mayhem up and drops him with a modified implant DDT!!]

Tim: THE LIGHT OF DAWN!!!

Jeff: This one's over!

[Night Stalker turns Mayhem over and hooks his leg.]

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

Jeff: MAYHEM KICKED OUT!!!

[The fans erupt in cheers as the match will continue.]

Tim: Mayhem is just incredible! He kicked out of Night Stalker's finishing maneuver: The Light of Dawn!

[Night Stalker is irate, not believing someone kicked out of his finisher. He grabs Mayhem and pulls him to his feet. Night Stalker swings a punch, but Mayhem blocks it. Mayhem connects with a head butt that rocks Night Stalker back. Mayhem then rushes ahead and connects with a MONSTROUS clothesline, knocking Night Stalker inside out and flipping in a corkscrew motion!!]

Jeff: Night Stalker was knocked silly by Mayhem's clothesline from hell!!!

[Mayhem grabs Night Stalker by the arm and pulls him to his feet, immediately whipping him to the corner. Mayhem runs at Stalker and leaps, splashing him in the corner. Mayhem then scoops Night Stalker onto the top turnbuckle. Mayhem then steps onto the middle ropes, hooking Night Stalker's head.]

Tim: It think Mayhem is trying to end it all right here!

[Mayhem falls back, drilling Stalker with a top rope DDT!!!]

Jeff: KINDNESS!!

Tim: A top rope DDT, Mayhem's finisher!!

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

Tim: It's all over!!

Jeff: Night Stalker was a tough cookie, but he ain't kicking out of THAT!

[Commercials]

~ I feel safe...
~ I feel scared...
~ I feel ready...
~ And yet I regret the world is not enough...

[The UNKLE remix of "The World Is Not Enough" begins to play, as the masses of fans get to their feet loudly. Silver lights flicker over the arena, adding to the already eerie vibes. Michael Trey steps out into the entrance wearing street attire: a black pair of jeans, tight white t-shirt under a black leather coat, and backwards black UNC fitted cap, complete with a slick pair of silver Ray-Bans. The music continues as he... no, he doesn't run. He walks. Slowly. Solemnly. With purpose. He grabs a chair and throws it into the ring and then climbs in, sitting in the chair backwards, facing up the ramp. He pulls out a mic.]

Michael: I figured it out. I finally did. I know I said that before when I thought it was Malice, but I think I finally know who it is. It's...

[Trey takes a breath, everyone on the edge of their seats.]

Michael: ... it's The Saint. It's too obvious now. Crazy fucking bastard. He's just trying to fuck with my head. It's working.

[The crowd gets a little loud and Michael waits for silence again.]

Michael: Damnit... all I want is my life back. That's all I've ever wanted... was to have a chance to be normal, to be accepted, to be happy. I finally began to become normal... I finally had been accepted in the wrestling community... but now Claire has been ripped from my life, tearing a part of my own soul along with her. It's all I ever wanted... normalcy, acceptance, and happiness. That never changed. I NEVER CHANGED.

[Trey slumps his head into his arms, speaking quietly and muffled.]

Michael: I just want my fucking life back. I just want Claire.

[The lights go out and on the screens, we see some footage. It's a familiar scene from past shows: Claire, tied to a chair, and the attacker standing next to her. The attacker brings a voice box to his or her throat, making the speech unrecognizable.]

?Attacker?: Wrong. Again, Michael. You can't get anything fucking right, can you? CAN YOU?! You're being a goddamn fool. This lesson that you can't learn is being wasted... its something you will probably never grasp or comprehend. You're fucking lucky that Claire is even alive, Michael. Whether you'll think that you're lucky after she sees this.... that's another question.

[The attacker brushes Claire's face and mouths the words "for you..." and continues to walk to a small television set and built-in VCR, sitting on a table just in camera range, and clicks it on. It's footage from Michael's hosting of Commish's Corner... edited. The first little clip is from earlier tonight, of Michael "proposing" backstage.]

Michael: Will you marry me? I know it's unexpected... but I love you. Nothing can or will change this... ever. I'll always care about you. Forever.

?Attacker?: Even you, Claire, must realize this isn't directed at you. You must know who he's talking to.

[The spliced tape cuts to footage from some Tempest promo. It's a face shot of her nodding her head 'yes'. Then the spliced tape cuts to a shot from the Corner, where Michael hugs Tempest warmly and says...]

Michael: I just can't believe it. I'm really excited for the wedding... it'll be beautiful!

[Tempest grins and hugs Michael again, saying...]

Tempest: Oh I know! I can't wait. Well, I guess I can till we set a date anyway.

[You hear the audio of the crowd saying "awwwww" in unison (for Davison and Tempest at the time), and then cut to Davison and Michael shaking hands and smiling at one another. The cut to a face shot of Michael, towards the end of this spot.]

Michael: I just can't believe it happened so QUICKLY too!

[Cut to a wider view of all three. Tempest turns to Trey and takes his hand.]

Tempest: Thanks for having me //.

Michael: It was a pleasure....

[She stretches up and gives him a little peck on the cheek. The footage ends.]

?Attacker?: He's moved on Claire. You should too. You saw it, Claire. He elbowed you and didn't even give a damn.

[Tears run fast down the cheeks of Claire's face, like a river of pain.]

?Attacker?: I have some work to do tonight, Claire... but once I get back here, after the show... you'll get a chance to move on too. I promise to you, Claire. I promise... and unlike Michael, I keep my promises.

[The scene on the HWF-tron ends and attention returns to Michael in the ring... he's fuckin' pissed off and nearly crying. He heaves the chair into the crowd and chucks the microphone against the canvas, sprinting backstage.]

["Anger Management" hits the air and a long burst of pyro explodes from the side of the aisle. When the smoke clears, Spike puts one foot on to the entrance- way with his head to the floor. Slowly, he looks up and grins devilishly while bringing his arms up over his head as if to salute the crowd. He quickly swings his arms to his sides, snaps his head up, and sprays water from his mouth and slowly pans over the crowd before walking to the ring. Rolling under the bottom rope, Spike walks to the far side of the ring and vaults to the top rope, facing away from the entrance and pans over the crowd once again. He then turns his head to either meet his opponents' face, or to watch him come to ringside, still standing on the third rope. The evil looking grin has been exchanged for a hard-edged smirk as his music fades out.]

Tim: Spike has entered the ring and looks ready for his shot at the Canadian title...

["Walk" by Kilgore blasts through the HWF speakers and the crowd gives the Canadian champion a standing ovation. A huge explosion of red pyro goes off in the center of the stage. Zakin emerges from the back and through the smoke with a Singapore cane in hand. Zakin looks behind him and Jon E. Karman comes out from the back blowing his whistle trying to get the crowd into more than they already are. Zakin walks down the ramp and to the ring. He walks up the steel steps and goes through the second rope. He walks past Spike and to the turnbuckle. He raises the Singapore cane high in the air and generates a huge pop from the crowd. Zakin hops down and hands the cane to Jon. Jon E. exits through the middle rope and the match begins.]

Jeff: The Canadian belt division is starting to heat up and really become a competitive area.

Tim: Well, there's the man on top of that hill: David Zakin.

[The bell sounds. The two men do some last minute stretches and walk to the center of the ring. The ref stands back against the ropes, ready for an explosion of offense.]

Jeff: Spike and David look ready for a battle here tonight, and sure enough, they're gonna have one!

[The two lock up in a collar and elbow tie up. Zakin, with a significant and size advantage over Spike, drives his opponent back into the corner, releasing the lock up. Zakin goes to work like Rocky Balboa on the hanging meat, sick sounding body shots the drive Spike further into the corner.]

Tim: What shots to the abdomen!

[Zakin backs off just for a second and Spike takes the chance, striking David in the face with a stiff right hand. David is shaken and allows time for Spike to hop to the second rope. As Zakin turns around, Spike flips off the ropes and catches the Canadian Champ with a flipping neckbreaker.]

Jeff: Flipping neckbreaker off the second rope! Spike has control!

[Spike is quick to his feet and runs to the ropes, coming back with a lightning quick legdrop across the throat of Zakin. Spike goes for the early cover.]

[One ... KICKOUT!!]

Tim: Not even a two count... Way too early for pinning.

Jeff: Not necessarily. If Spike tries frequent and early covers, Zakin has to keep kicking out... and that takes energy.

[Spike brings David Zakin to his feet and immediately into a front chancery. Spike hooks the waist of Zakin's pants and flips him over with a nice vertical suplex. Spike gets right back to his feet and walks toward Zakin, stomping him in the chest a few times. Spike stops and goes through the ropes, to the apron. He walks to the turnbuckle and climbs to the top. Spike gains his balance and leaps off, connecting with a huge elbow drop off the top!]

Tim: A big elbow drop off the top rope!

[Spike goes again for the cover.]

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

Jeff: A two count on David Zakin for Spike.. It seems Spike has a set determined plan for this match.

[Spike brings Zakin to his feet and nails him with a punch right under the chin. Zakin is almost knocked silly, falling backwards into the ropes. Spike then backs to the opposite ropes and takes off running towards David. Zakin counters and ducks, back body dropping Spike over the ropes and to the outside. Spike smacks the floor of the arena with a thud, landing on his lower back and tailbone. He arches up on impact, showing great pain.]

Tim: Zakin reverses the running attack with a back body drop that may have just evened this match back up!

[Spike slowly gets to his feet and turns around, just in time to catch a flying cross body splash from "The Insider!" The two men spill into the railing, sliding it back a little.]

Jeff: Spike took the brunt of that splash, but David Zakin landed awkwardly on his shoulder and seems to be favoring it a bit.

[Zakin grabs the railing and pulls himself up with the aid of the railing. He reaches down and grabs Spike by the hair, pulling his opponent to his feet. Zakin grabs Spike's arm and whips Spike into the far railing, causing it to slide into the front row fans. David takes off running towards Spike, but Spike plays opossum and stumbles off the railing, then snaps to life and catches Zakin with a drop toe hold, sending Zakin face first into the railing!!]

Tim: OH! Zakin's face went right into the steel railing!!

[Spike grabs David by the hair and pulls him up. Surprisingly, there is no blood coming from Zakin, only a large knot that will surely be one hell of a bruise tomorrow. Spike turns and rolls David under the ropes and slides in behind him.]

Jeff: This match is just going back and forth.. No one can really dominate.

Tim: That's the best type of match, I think. You never know what'll happen next.

Jeff: Dude, you just described everything and anything that happens in the HWF!

Tim: True... very true.

[Spike stands Zakin up and is surprising by a wild hay maker from Zakin. Spike is turned around by the punch. As he turns back to David, he is surprised once more by the Canadian champion. With a swift standing side kick directly into his sternum, Spike is knocked back into the corner, but more noticeably the referee!]

Jeff: The referee is out!

[Zakin goes to the perpendicular corner and climbs the turnbuckle. Spike is right near the ropes on the far side of the ring, nearly a ring's distance from Zakin. David stands up and raises his arms to a pop from the crowd. He leaps off, using all the power his legs can muster. Zakin flies like an eagle from one side of the ring to the other, connecting with the damnedest frog splash you'll ever see!!!]

Tim: INSIDER SPLASH!!!

Jeff: GOOD GOD!! HE FLEW ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE RING!!

[HWF! HWF! HWF!]

[As the crowd continues with it's raging HWF chant, Zakin is rolling around the mat, clutching his ribs. He rolls on top of Spike and hooks his leg, only to look up and see the knocked out referee. Zakin curses and slowly stands. He walks to the referee, with the help of Jon E., trying to wake the poor man up. Meanwhile, the fans have arisen as Jonathan Storm has run out from the back.]

Tim: The ref is out and can't make the count.. Wait! What is Jonathan Storm doing out here?!

[Jon E. points out Storm to Zakin, who turns right into a kick from Storm.]

Jeff: Storm is ruining this match!

[Storm scoops Zakin onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Jon then swings Zakin off and connects with a cutter!!]

Tim: The Perfect Storm!

[It seems Jon E's persistence has awoken the referee. The ref turns just in time to see the Perfect Storm. He turns and signals to ring the bell.]

Jeff: The ref has just ended this match!

[JD Brady suddenly rushes down the aisle, sliding under the ropes in a hurry. Jon Storm turns around and Brady whips him to the ropes. Brady catches him on the way back in a cradle position. JD hooks Storm's head and drills him with a cradle DDT!!]

Tim: JD Brady just "Pranked" Jonathan Storm!

[Before JD Brady can get up, Chris Styles has already run down the aisle and dove on top of Brady. Styles goes wild with punches, until Brady connects with a low blow. JD stands up and retaliates with a punch of his own.]

Jeff: Now Styles is in the ring!

[Styles and Brady are returning blows, as Chris Davison joins the ruckus. Davison goes mainly for Styles, but shares the blows with Brady. Spike has gotten back to his feet and is stomping away on David Zakin. Before long, Jon Storm is on his feet and nails Spike with a punch. Spike returns the favor and before you know it, it's Davison-Styles-Brady-Spike-Storm all in a brawl, leaving Zakin lying on the mat.]

Tim: These guys are going at it like pit bulls!

[Spike nails Davison, knocking him through the ropes to the outside. Spike turns and is nailed with a spear from Jon Storm! Both men go through the ropes. Davison, Spike, and Storm brawl on the outside. Styles and Brady brawl on the inside, while David Zakin has gotten up and is standing on the apron near the turnbuckle.]

Jeff: It's separated a bit, but it's still just a brawl!

[Brady whips Styles to the ropes, and catches him in a modified bear hug so that Styles is held in position for the Dudley Death Drop. Zakin leaps to the top turnbuckle and leaps off, connecting with a leg drop on the back of Styles' head!!]

Tim: Brady and Zakin just hit Styles with the "Inside Joke!"

[The fans are cheering uncontrollably as the action again goes to a five man brawl on the outside, again leaving David Zakin alone in the ring. Zakin runs to the ropes and leaps high over the top rope and splashes the group of men, sending all six scattering in all directions. The fans are all standing and chanting for the show, except for The Saint, who continues to sit and watch calmly; as they go to commercial.]

[Commercials]

[The lights dim to black as "One Step Closer" by Linkin Park hits over the speakers. Red strobe lights flash from the back as Vic Williams and Phoenix emerge from the back. Vic is wearing a black trench coat that goes down to his ankles, and Phoenix is wearing his normal attire. The two men make their way down to the ring and slide in under the bottom rope as the camera pans over to The Saint, who is still sitting in the seat he was in earlier in the show. He is staring straight at Vic with a concentraited look on face, then the camera pans back over to the two men in the ring. Phoenix slides under the barbed wire ropes and then climbs back onto the apron.]

Tim: Here are two members of the Anti-Heroes, Phoenix and Vic Williams.

Jeff: Yeah, I'm going with these guys on this match. Vic is a legend here in the HWF, and I doubt that JD Brady or Renegade could beat him one on one.

Tim: Vic Williams is sick. His hatred for Renegade is sick. Vic Williams is a man who barely deserves what he has here, and the man should be locked up in a mental home for some of the things he's done.

Jeff: I think he heard that...run Tim, run!

Tim: Fat piece of shit...

["Orignial Prankster" by The Offspring comes on over the arena as the fans come to their feet! They start chanting "J-D-Bra-dy *Clap clap clapclapclap*" as they can just think about him. You hear women screaming his name through the entire arena. Then about twenty seconds into the theme "The Original Prankster" JD Brady himself comes out to a thunderous pop! JD walks down to the ring, strutting this stuff, with women trying to get over the guardrails to get to him. JD walks over and gives a little kid a high-five and then JD goes around the ring and starts pounding his hands on the apron, staring at Phoenix and Vic while awaiting for Renegade.]

Tim: Here's "The Original Prankster" himself, who will be teaming with Renegade in this match-up.

Jeff: Yeah, at least Vic isn't holding a grudge against him...Renegade better have said his prayers, because I think that Vic is looking to destroy him tonight...

[The lights in the arena slowly fade as the fans come to an abrupt silence. The lights are completely out and the arena is pitch black. Then, a red spotlight shines on the top of the aisle. Starting at the bottom of the aisle, and continuing to the top, fireworks go off, and as soon as they hit the top, Thunder Underground by Ozzy Osbourne blares over the speakers. The crowd cheers and some hold up lighters in the near dark, as the lights return and Renegade comes out from the back. He looks at the fans and raises his arms, then walks down the aisle and walks around to the other side of the ring next to JD Brady. Vic and Renegade are staring a hole into each other as Vic steps forward. He removes his trench coat to reveal his torso, which has the letters "R-E-N-E-G-A-D-E" carved into it. Vic smiles sadistically as he motions for Renegade to get in the ring. Renegade slides under the bottom rope as the bell rings, signifying the start of the match.]

Tim: Do you see that!? Vic Williams must have carved Renegade's name into his stomach! What is that sadistic bastard thinking!?

Jeff: Heheheheheh...

[The camera focuses on The Saint, who is still sitting in the crowd with the same look on his face. The camera then pans back to in the ring, where Vic and Renegade are brawling fist to fist. Vic suddenly elbows Renegade in the face, then whips him into the barbed wire ropes. Renegade bounces off the barbed wire, then comes back as Vic clotheslines Renegade to the mat with impact. Renegade gets back up as Vic grabs him by the hair, then starts slamming his face into the barbed wire ropes, makingRenegade's face start to bleed profusely.The ref stops Vic and pushes him away from Renegade, and Vic starts yelling in the ref's face. Vic then turns around and tags Phoenix in, but before getting out of the ring entirely he spits on Renegade's face, then gets out of the ring as Phoenix gets in through the middle rope.]

Tim: Oh, that was just uncalled for...

Jeff: Shuddup!!

[Phoenix picks up Renegade and whips him to Vic's corner. Renegade hits the corner hard, and immediately Vic grabs him and violently pulls him over onto the apron. Suddenly, JD Brady dives into the ring and spears Phoenix to the ground. On the apron, Vic has Renegade by the throat and is pulling him to his feet. As he does, Vic lifts Renegade into the air, sweeps his legs with his other arm, and chokeslams him off the apron right onto his neck. The fans gasp in unison.]

Tim: HOLY SHIT!!

Jeff: What a Chainsaw Sweep!!

[Vic smiles down at Renegade and then starts scaling to the top turnbuckle, carefully. In the ring, JD Brady has mounted Phoenix and is punching his lights out. Vic reaches the top turnbuckle and looks down at Phoenix and JD Brady. Instictively, Vic dives off the top rope in a corkscrew splash; taking out both men. The crowd gasps again, as all three men lay sprawled out in the center of the ring.]

Jeff: Descending Angel!!

Tim: Vic is on fire tonight!!

[Vic is the first up to his feet. On the outside of the ring, Renegade is slowly getting up, and dragging a chair with him. He slowly slides into the ring and stands up. Vic turns around and... BAM!! Vic gets smashed right in his forehead with a chair. Vic crumbles to the ground, as Renegade helps JD Brady to his feet.]

Jeff: What do they have planned now!?!

[Renegade and JD Brady pull Phoenix to his feet and double whip him to the ropes. Phoenix bounces off and Renegade pancake throws him straight up into the air. JD Brady catches him in spinebuster position, and tries to hook him for a cradle DDT. Phoenix slips out though, and goes for a suplex. JD Brady floats over and he and Renegade plant Phoenix with a double bulldog.]

Tim: DOUBLE BULLDOG!!

[Vic is now on his feet, and awaiting either member of the opposing team. JD BRady begins punching on Phoenix again, as Renegade turns around. Immediately, Vic locks Renegade in a reverse full nelson and slams him to the mat HARD with an STO.]

Jeff: Was that?

Tim: Yes, it was Trevor Lasek's 'Sweet Shit'!!

[JD Brady quickly stands up and runs at Vic, but Vic lifts him into powerslam. He runs a little, spins it into DDT, and flows with it into a cutter. The fans explode on impact, as Vic stands up quickly and screams out towards the crowd.]

Tim: OH... MY... GOD!!

Jeff: And that was Lasek's 'Final Destination'!!

Tim: That wa-

[The lights go out.]

Tim: What the fuck!?!

[The lights stay out for about 35 seconds, and then a red strobe light kicks on. All four men are now staggering around the ring, trying to find one another. There is also a fifth man in the ring. The camera cuts to ringside, where The Saint is, as he watching intently on what's going on. Suddenly, the lights cut out again though.]

Jeff: Who runs the lighting at these shows, anyway!?!

[The lights come back on, and all four men are laid out in the ring. In the center of the ring, is written the word "RAGE" in some sort of blood-like liquid. Officials rush down to the ring, as the men start to stir a bit.]

Tim: Ye... yes... I'm being told now that we HAVE to cut to commercial...

[Commercials]

[The camera fades back in, and everything is cleaned up. A few extra officials leave ringside area, as the show continues.]

Jeff: Whoa, that indeed was a crazy mofo mamma jammin' of a Tag-Team matchup there!

Tim: Yeah, that whole thing was crazy...

Jeff: Actually, enough of that CRAP, because the Silky One himself is up next against that 4'9 dweebshit Kyle Soloman.

Tim: No spiffy insults against "The Mark" tonight?

Jeff: There's just too many to list, One Man Blowbag....Kyle "The...

Tim: OH SHUT THE HELL UP!

[Suddenly, Fred Durst's voice is heard anouncing, instructing the crowd to put their hands in the air, just before the bass line of "Rollin'" hits the speakers. The HWF TV screen flashes various shots of suplexes, clotheslines, and chair shots delivered by "The Sexy Bitch" himself. As the chorus hits, Silky blows through the curtains to a wild light show and a wilder ovation from the capacity crowd. The lights glint off his shiny latex trenchcoat and pants. His shades shield his eyes from the glare off his necklace as he strides confidently to the ring flanked by his gorgeous valet, Spryte, and his manager, the jive walkin', smack talkin' Sho'nuff. He reaches the ring, hand springs over the rope, and gives a dismissive, disgusted glance at his opponent before placing his shades on the honey-toned beauty at his side, and slowly sliding his necklace down the front of her lacy sundress, nessling it between her breasts. He drops the coat of his back to the floor, where Sho'nuff fetches it, then cracks his neck and flashily assumes a low body-builders pose, ala-Shawn Michaels to the accompaniment of a four-corner progressive pyro-blast.]

Nigel Rolston: And introducing, first - the challenger, he is from Boston, Massachussets and is a "ripped" 237 pounds, he is the man of 1000 Names including the word, "SEX" he is..... SILKY [dramatic pause] PALMSSSSSSS!

Jeff: [Faints]

Tim: Calm down Jeff, it's not like it's Lance Sterling or anything.

Jeff: Yeah! But it's the next best thing, common Silkorama, do it for the SWF, do it for all the ho's out there.....just kick..

[Suddenly "Scott farcas takes it on the chin" by Less than Jake erupts through the speakers, igniting a flame in the hearts of the fans in attendance as Kyle Solomon bursts out from the back in a charismatic run of a swagger. "The Mark" strikes "The Standing Think Pose" as fireworks go off in the background; and as the main riff of "Farcas" begins to strum away, The HWF's Model Employee races into the crowd with a shot of energy unmatched by anyone else in the stadium and begins to clap hands with and greet every fan that he can see as he gradually makes his way towards the ring. He jumps from the top of the rail, onto the apron where he tumbles into the ring, laying on his back for a few moments. Seconds after his body lays completely still, Solomon kips up to his feet, shouts to the fans, and stretches out his right hand motioning for his to bring it on....]

Tim: And there's the champion, SOLOMON!

[....suddenly, Silky breaks off, tackling Solomon to the ground as the ref signals for the bell. The SWF Title goes flying to the outside, as Silky proceeds to box Solomon's brains out. Solomon, who's pinned to the ground, shifts his head, Silky plants his fist into the ground, temporarily stunning him, as Solomon wriggles back under Silky's legs, stands up, turns around, and delivers a seated dropkick to the back of the Silkmeister - sending him to the floor. Silky, looks hella pissed, as he turns around to meet a Slingshot Body pressing Solomon, sending them both sprawling on the floor. Solomon's up first, and he looks READY. He's pumped and the crowd are gettin' into this matchup.]

Jeff: DAMNIT, Solomon, you die, you go to hell and you die! Fry die!

[As Silky starts to get up, Kyle turns around and runs, jumping up onto the apron, and running at Silky. Silky turns, and Solomon leaps, landing on Silky's shoulders ready for a Hurricanrana, but Silky just drops, powerbombing Solomon HARD into the ground, the thud of his head hitting the ground silencing the normally violent hungry croud. The camera zooms into Solomon, who's eyes have rolled back into his head. Silky get's up, and grabs a nearby chair. He smacks it into the ground a few times to wake up Solomon, who's beginning to stand. Silky goes for the big swing, but Solomon dropkick's his knee out at the last second, Silky hops around on his left leg for a second, before he turns back 180 degrees to face Kyle, who proceeds to dropkick his other leg out. Silky flies foward, landing on his face. Solomon kips up, as Silky get's almost immediately to his feet, resulting in a staredown beside the announcers table.]

Jeff: [shouting] HEY SOLOMON! You fucking suck!

Tim: JEFF?! How could you, one week you're saving Sterling's ass from getting killed, now you're insulting the wrestlers? What happens if Kyle comes over here and put's you "Right on the Mark"?

Jeff: I'll backflip out, and hit 49 lebenese kick's before he can respond, YES!

[Silky then flips Solomon the bird, which Solomon seems to snap at. Solomon runs at Silky, who drops his head down into the steel steps with a drop toe hold. Solomon's head snaps back, as Silky walks by, and grabs Solomon. Dragging the deadweight around to the other side of the ring. He irish whip's Solomon into the railing, as Solomon turns, smashing back first. He puffs a few times, as Silky runs and clotheslines him over into the crowd. Silky hops over the railing, and turns, and smooches a nearby lady who nearly faints. He then courtiously whipes her drool from her cleavege, before returning to stomp down on Solomon. Silky picks up Solomon and drags him through the crowd to a nearby electical booth setup. He picks up the much lighter Solomon and THROWS him by the collar into the wall, Solomon slumps down, and lands in an almost Rikishi Stinkface position with his back against the wall. Silky pushes off one of the electrical crew, as the rest flee, and grabs the chair. He punches the chair, causing a dent, he then aims up Solomon and swings, something that'd make Tiger Woods proud. One minute the chair has the mound on Solomon's side, next minute, it's on the other side, as Solomon's headprint is almost visible.]

Tim: Ooooh, he could of Killed Solomon there.

Jeff: That was chairtastic. Chair-o-rific! Chairtacular! Chairositiy!

Tim: That was.....LAME.

[Silky then pulls up the now slightly bleeding Solomon, and rolls him up onto the table. Silky rolls up onto the table too, being carefull not to put too much weight in the middle. Silky starts to put Solomon into a standing head scissors before he blows a sarcastic kiss to the crowd. Silky goes for the piledriver, but Solomon blocks it. He tries again, and yet again it's blocked. On the third time, Solomon powers out of it, sending Silky sommersaulting to the cement floor with a thud, but inturn shattering the table and crashing hard himself. After moments pass, Solomon is the first up, he grabs the nearby electrical wire, and walks over to Silky. Instead of the usual chokefest, he instead starts to wrap Silky up like a mummy, the best he can, he manages to smile, the corner of his mouth bleeding. He then yanks the cord, spinning SIlky around and around, then as the wire ends, Solomon plants a jumping thrust kick to the jaw of Silky, which sends The Sexmachine staggering backwards. Silky remains up though, and runs at Solomon, however, Solomon flapjack's Silky up, and throat first across the edge of the broken table. The broken bit, breaks again, as you can see Silky grasp his throat in pain.]

Tim: Is this falls count anywhere?

Jeff: I don't know, I know there's no count out atleast....

[Solomon then jumps up, pulling himself up onto the top of a speaker stack. He then waits for Silky to arise, as Silky turns Solomon jumps off in a standing lou thesz press style Body Block. Silky catches Solomon then presses him straight back up in the air....]

Jeff: SILK STREEM!!!

[...he turns to go for the 3/4 Neckbreaker, but Solomon catches him in an inverted facelock. Solomon then leavers him up onto his shoulder.....]

Tim: RIGHT ON THE MARK!!!

[....but Silky slides back off and spins Solomon around, before laying a nice Boxing Combination of lefts and rights and gutchecks before swinging the big KO right hand. Solomon ducks, and catches it, doing the standard "into" full-nelson reversal. From there he jumps, and bounces off the wall with his feet, before swinging out of the full-nelson into a facelock, then into a DDT. Both Silky and Solomon feeling a great deal of impact, but Silky feeling a great deal of concrete through his head.]

Jeff: Goddamnit..

Tim: That was a NICE reversal there by Solomon, showing his great athleticism.

[Solomon stumbles backwards to his feet, he has his back to the speaker stack. Silky is the up to his feet. Again, he runs to tackle Solomon down, however, Kyle hasn't seen it coming and they both go crashing through the speakers into a wall and back into a nearby hallway. The roll around like two women, trying to get punches into each other, Silky even trying to plant one on Solomon for a bit of cocky fun. Solomon manages to get a foot up and Rolls backwards, flipping Silky over in a half sommersault. Silky slides on his back on the slippery floor, before rolling over onto his guts while sliding then hopping up He then turns and runs at Solomon with a monster clothesline, but Kyle (using the momentum) hip tosses Silky up, and literally THROUGH a glass windows which was inside a door, the door leading to one set of Comfort Rooms/Toilets/Restrooms etc.]

Tim: OH MY GOD, Silky could bleed to death in that pile of rubble, he's now cut open like a Shredded Carrot!

Jeff: Carrott?

Tim: Yes....

Jeff: You calling the SILKSTER an f'n carrot?

Tim: Um, n..

Jeff: OOOOOH, he's more like a peach.

Tim: [slaps forehead]

[Silky rolls around in the glass, getting cut open even more, as Solomon walks across and peers into the crashsite, before stepping through the door. You can hear the sounds of the glass under Solomon's boots, as he picks up the bleeding Silky. You can now see Silky's head, busted competely open at the forehead, Solomon assiting in pulling a large piece of glass from his forehead. Solomon then pushes Silky down the hallway a bit, unsure where it goes. Silky tumbles over a potplant, sending dirt everywhere. Solomon avoids it, and picks Silky back up by the hair. Upon noticing where the doors lead, he turns to go back through where he came, but Silky punches him wickedly into the kidneys, before reaching up and locking on a inverted facelock. Silky then drives Solomon down with a Scorpian Death Drop type Inverted DDT/Reverse DDT. Both men lay down on the ground, huffing and puffing, but both looking still in it.]

Jeff: WOOHHOOO, the Silk's still got fight in 'im...

Tim: Oooh, so you doubted Silky?

Jeff: Wha?! Um, NO!

Tim: I'm sooo going to tell him that!

Jeff: Listen here Mil Timmer, just shut the fuck up, Silky would kick your ass.

[Silky is the first to his feat, staggering around a bit before supporting himself with his back to a door, Silky then bends down, grasping Solomon around the ankles, he then pulls him up into a Slingshot Catapult position before falling backwards, the next sickening thud being Solomon's head going THROUGH the ladies room door. Solomon hangs up by his throat, his feet just touching the floor, as Silky smiles and stands back up, looking at the carnage he's developed. Chants of H-W-F are faintly heard in the background. Silky then grabs Solomon's legs, and pulls them up under his armpits (like Hardcore Holly's testicle thumping kick). Kyle squirms around his throat being cut off of hair, and with a slight bit of compassion knowing Solomon could die, Silky rears back, pulling Solomon out the hard way, as Solomon instantly grasps for air as he lay down clutching his throat. Silky walks back over to the plant he knocked over, and grabs the vase that held the plant up, he then awaits....]

Tim: LOOK out Solomon, he's going to...

Jeff: Oh my fuck, shut up man. And you call me a Mark?

[...Solomon stuggles to his feet like the fighting champion he is. Silky then chucks the vase at him, Solomon doesn't duck, he slightly turns around, getting the full force of the vase on his upperback, as bit's of porceline probably dig into his skin.]

Tim: AHHH, this hasn't been the scientific match I expected.

Jeff: Obviously you didn't see their heated fued based matches in the SWF.

[Silky starts to drag Solomon now. He open's the Kyle Solomon Signed door, and drags him into the ladies room. A shower is heard, as a naked lady screams, and pulls a white towell around her private parts, before rushing out the door. Silky then picks up his jaw, and drags Solomon over towards the shower. Silky pulls Kyle right to his feet, then irish whips him face first into the wall behind the shower, Solomon crashes back down, landing hard on the tiled floor. Silky then walks across to the tap's, and cut's the cold out, while increasing the heat. The current warm water, changes into almost boiling as you can see the skin of an amost unconcious Kyle start to become red. SIlky leaves that while he walks over to the piss bowl.]

Jeff: Oh my god, this guy is soooo my next idol. He's confident enough to take a leak in the middle of a match, this guy is GOD.

[As the camera focuses on Solomon you can hear the golden stream of Silky splash into the porceline of the toilet. As you see a refreshed SIlky stoll back into frame and turn off the burning water. He then douses Solomon in cold water, as Solomon seems to get a kick from it, and pull Silky under the water. Silky quikly turns the tap right off, and drops a knee down into Solomon's guts. He then picks Solomon up, and grabs him in a bulldog headlock, he then pulls him across to the urine bowl, you can see yellow bubbly water in it (ewww) as Silky starts to push Solomon's head down towards it. Solomon slips out, the backway, and pulls Silky's legs out from under him, SIlky drops down HARD chin-first into his own malewater as it splashes all over his face. Like a wrestle being blinded by that toxic fire extinguisher stuff, Silky stumbles around punching at nothing before slipping over in the shower, crashing hard on his back. Lucilky though, he rolls over, getting the yellow out of his face.]

Tim: [In Nelson voice...] Hae-Hah!

[Solomon slouches over to Silky, almost falling over too, but managing to regain his footing. He then turns the shower back on HOT and douses Silky in his own game of Burn the Bastard. Silky kicks around, as Solomon keeps increaing the pressure, before Silky high-tails it across near the room's exit. Solomon then cut's it back to ice-cold, and pours it over his burns.]

Jeff: Common you sissy pussy freak, this is no time to shower when you have the likes of Silky opposing you!

[Solomon finally finishes as Silky has stumbled across and out the door, with his back on the opposite door the Janitorial Closet. Solomon then get's a second wind, and takes off like Carl Lewis before leaping up with a Bruce Lee flying kick, sending a kick square into the chest of Silky. Silky goes flying back, smashing the door down, and plummeting into the room, which sends shit falling down from ledges untill all you can see is a pair of Silky Shoes hanging out the bottom. Solomon is also down, lying on his back, catching a breather.]

Tim: And here we see, Silky of old. He has gone back to his roots as a Janitor Boy at McDonalds.

Jeff: Ooooh, that's gunna get you a beating that not even I could give you!

[Solomon get's up, slowly of course, before leaning over some fallen down shit, then grabs Silky by the ankles, and drags him out through the rubble. Silky's had some dirty ass water and god-knows what else poured on him, Kyle ignors it and takes him head first back down the hallway and out through the broken glass door. He then chucks Silky into a wall for good measure....]

Jeff: Gee, who hasn't got an attitude today!?

[...he then heaves him up into a nearby dumpster full of bubble wrap. Solomon does the unthinkable, he closes the lid! He then takes Silky for a Big Magic Ride through the halls of the building, he even crashes into a few walls on purpose. Then in a scene not like Phoenix Vs Trey - Reckless Behavior, they come to a set of stairs. Silky bursts out, busting the lid open, he then heaves Kyle up by the hair, sending them both into the dumpster, which sits precariously on the edge of the stairs. Silky and Solomon start going fisticufs, Solomon getting rocked by a HUGE right hand, before he plants Silky with a big one. This sends Silky flying back into the edge of the Dumpster. This set's the avalanch-a going, the first two wheels tip over the edge, it then slowly rocks as the crowd "Oooh and Ahhh". Then CRASH! The dumpster tips over, and all you can see is this blue dumpster rolling over...and over....and over untill it thud's into the floor, where two human bodies go flying out in an explosion of bubblewrap.]

Tim and Jeff: OH MY GOD. THEY ARE D.E.A.D!!

Crowd: HOLY-SHIT! HOLY-SHIT!

[As the camera focuses past the motionless bodies, you can see the enterance back to the ring. Suddenly, in the hazy foreground, you can see a body move. The camera quickly pans back, Solomon, using his knee for support heroicly get's to his feet as the crowd go wild. He then almost collapses back again, but regains himself. Silky then too starts to stir, he get's up and wanders around aimlessly, before out of nowhere clotheslining a resting Solomon back up onto a table. Solomon lay back, like a pregnant woman, as Silky hops up onto the table. The table being one of them Food Carrying tables, that have a bit more strength in them. Silky then goes for a powerbomb, but Solomon flips out and grabs Silky by the hair.....easilly could of been a faceplant reversal, but Solomon lands on his feet, he drops to a knee however until a bit of tireness, but then picks Silky up in a scoop, putting him onto his shoulder. Solomon then spins 90, and faces away from a wall behind him, as his knees give way again, and he drops Silky in a HELLA botched "Right on the Mark" sending Silky in at an 45 degree angle to the right, as they both crash back into the wall behind them.]

Tim: RIGHT ON THE MARK!! This one's over!

Jeff: Falls do NOT count anywhere remember, and Silky could be dead!

Tim: That was an accident...

Jeff: As if, Solomon tried to kill Silky then when he put him through the table, I think I'm about to cry.

[As Jeff purposlyturns and blows his nose on Tim's sleeve, Solomon starts to stir. Moment's pass as Solomon is first to his feet. In all the wreckage Solomon drag's Silky's tattered body out of the carnage. They then stumbled back through the enterance and into the arena as the crowd cheer loud for their names.]

Tim: I must say, this match hasn't been long, but it's been main event quality. These men gave it their all tonight..

Jeff: The match isn't over remember...!

[Solomon continues to drag Silky down to the ring, in the bulldog headlock, untill they get near ringside, the ref rolls in, as suddenly Silky get's a comeback, and shoves out of the headlock, sending Kyle chest first into the apronside. He then grabs his tights, and rolls Solomon in, after rolling in too. His blood now dried, in between the red raw skin. Silky get's up as Solomon whips him into the corner nearby the announce table. He then suplex Silky up onto the top rope, and proceeds to climb up.]

Tim: Superplex city time....

[Solomon grabs Silky in a front face lock as he starts to pull Silky right up to the very top, BUT, as He goes to hook Silky's arm around his neck - Silky uses ALL his strength to turn and NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX (released) Solomon off the top rope.....his destination -Through the Announce Table-. Silky, also goes falling backwards after suplexing Solomon, he lands HARD on the steel steps, crunching up and falling to the ground as the crowd start up another H-W-F chant.]

Jeff: Damn you Solomon! You better pay for a new table.

Tim: Jeff? How could you?

[In front of Jeff and Tim, lay a broken table, with Solomon sprawled out in it....however if there was any good to come out of this, it'd be that Solomon landed in the middle of the table, not on the edge. Sho'nuff walks over and adresses his fallen comrade, before helpin' him back into the ring, where he insits the ref check on Silky. As the ref turns his back, Sho'Nuff walks over and plants a few kick's into Solomon before rolling him back into the ring. Silky manages to go across to Solomon, and lock him in a full-nelson he then camal clutches it for effect, ending the "Crucible Crunch".....]

Jeff: QUIT DAMN YOU SOLOMON!

[Solomon looks to be passing out, but he won't give up, countless checks from the ref, and he won't give up. 20....30....40.....50....60.....70 seconds pass as Solomon remain in the Crunch. Silky then gives up, and let's go of the hold. He then turns and waits for Solomon to get up. He runs and swing for the "Pimp Slap from Hell" but Solomon some how drop toe holds him into the bottom turnbuckle. Then from the back, without music, runs Chris Davison. Silky starts to get up, now in the corner. Solomon has staggered to the other corner, Kyle then points at Silky and runs and JUMPS.....Silky grabs the ref....SMASH. Solomon stinger splash's The Ref and Silky. The ref goes down, as Solomon obviously checks on the ref who he's accidentaly hurt. Then Silky staggars out of the corner....suddenly his leg's fly back -ala Ric Flair- and he drops down on his face, one arm under his body -ala Ric Flair-. Davison get's to the ring, as Silky starts to get back to his feet. Solomon hears the commotion and turns around. Davison who's slid in, aim's up Silky's head...and goes for a big standing side kick. Silky drops down, as the reconcious ref looks up.....Solomon doesn't see it however, and the kick plants Solomon on the chin RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE REF.]

Jeff: DAVISON YOU DUMB FUCK! You just screwed Silky!

[The ref signals for a DQ, as Silky turns to Davison who's now looking at the fallen Solomon with a look of shock and mistake on his face....]

Nigel Rolston: And your winner, via DQ....SILKYYYYYY PALMSSSS! But Still, your SWF Champion.....Kyle Solomon!

Jeff: Nooooooo!

[Silky looks pissed, and turns....spinning Davison around by the shoulder. Silky then plants him with "The Final Curtain" DDT. Instantly "Rollin'" hit's the speakers as Silky and his Entourage leave the arena with a really pissed of look on their face.]

Jeff: NOOOOOOO!

Tim: SHUT UP MAN.

[Kyle then regains conciousness, and has a look of wondering why Silky's music is playing. He looks curious at the ref who points at Davison who's now staggared to his feet. Kyle looks at Davison's back, Davison staggers around, as you can actually see Solomon motion with his lips for "Right on the Mark" for once....hihgly unlike him....as Solomon scoops Davison up onto his shoulder, before hitting a Jesus Christ Pose, and planting an inverted pildriver as "Born Entertainer" by Veruca Salt instantly hits the speakers, as he grabs his SWF Title and leaves to the cheers of the crowd.]

Tim: Wow, that was a really excellent match....

Jeff: NOOOOOOOOO!

Tim: Can you finally shut your fucking mouth?

[Commercials]

Tim: Welcome back. Our HWF Crew is currently setting up tables for our next match, which pits the "Sole Superstar In Wrestling Today" Gavin Coens versus J. Simon Rykopathe!

Jeff: I'm gonna go with Rykopathe on this one. Ryko has been to the top of the ladder, he doesn't hold anything back, and I believe that Coens is in for some hell tonight.

Tim: Well, I do agree with you there, Rykopathe does have a long list of accomplishments, we'll see if he can capitalize on that.

["Heavy" plays over the loud speaker as the lights dim and red strobe lights begin to flash. . Gavin steps forward with his arms out towards his fans. The music is almost drowned out by the amount of boo'ing. Gavin doesn't seem to notice as he reaches out to his fans. He makes his way down to ring and steps in between the ropes. Gavin enters the ring as the ring lights back up, then grabs a mic from the ring announcer.]

Gavin: Now after what happened last week with my match being pushed back and then ultimately cancelled you can just imagine the kind of frustration I've been holding in. Last week I thought I was going to be given a chance to unleash every evil thought I've had since Holy Night onto two of the most deserving bastards in the HWF. Extream and Kyle Corman! Unfortunately your hero and rolemodel was screwed once again by Johnny Drake!! He found it upon himself to cancel my match and blame it on our fair commisioner, Shawn Collins. How dare he do this to me? How could he possibly think of bringing down the ratings for his own television show? This man must be stopped at all costs.

And think of the fans!! How many of my loyal Gavin-wanna-be's went home disappointed on Saturday night?!? How many people watching at home turned the channel? Millions.... millions of Gavin-wanna-be's cried themselves to sleep on Saturday Night. In fact I called around and I heard that in Omaha they're thinking of stringing Drake up by his toenails. Now that's what I called dedicated loyal>fans. God bl...whoops, Gavin bless those people.

But now to the match at hand, the match with the homicidal Simon Rykopathe. Good god! Is this man for real? Someone like this should be locked away in a padded room where he's left to survive on pudding pops and marshmellows. And we all know what marshmellows are made of. This will mark the 2nd time that I've had the pleasure of facing my Psychopathe due to the fact that the last time we were scheduled to meet, at Holy Night no less, he tucked his tail and ran! He admitted to the world by not showing up that he was petrified and the mere thought of wrestling me. How can he possibly show his face again in an HWF ring. Those kind of antics belong in the minor leagues.... like WCW.

[For once the fans agree with Gavin and a loud HWF chant breaks out.]

Gavin: So now that he's been forced to compete with me, he's ran out of ideas. No more excuses Ryko, no more lies, no more running away... just wrestling. Tonight in this squared circle I will prove once again that I am the Sole Superstar in Wrestling Today! I am the Hero and Rolemodel of millions around the globe and tonight Ill be the man that shatters Rykopathe's spine!! However before I graciously break your spine into a million "itty bitty John Justice sized" peices allow me to show just how gracious I can be...

In fact I have a small surprise for you Rykopathe, and if the gentlemen in the back would be so kind we can bring it out...

[With that Gavin points up towards the ceiling. All of a sudden a noose is seen being lowered towards the ring. The noose stops about 12 feet above the ring and Gavin smiles to himself.]

Tim: Oh God no...

Jeff: Correction, it's "Oh Gavin no." See how I always gotta correct you?

[Gavin walks over to the ropes and bends down to throw the mic out of the ring, but before doing that he says the words...]

Gavin: Rykopathe... let's do this.

[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, and walks into the ring. Rykopathe ignores the ref and drops the chair, then begins to brawl it out with Gavin.]

Tim: And the match is underway, Gavin Coens taking on J. Simon Rykopathe!

Jeff: Wooo hoo! Let's get the hardcoreness on quickly, I wanna see some blood!

[Rykopathe and Coens keep duking it out, left and right, until Rykopathe gets Coens cornered. Rykopathe throws Coens into the opposite corner, then clotheslines him on the way back. Gavin quickly jumps back up and lands a well-aimed right hand to Rykopathe's face, which makes Ryko stumble back into the corner. Gavin then walks over to the chair Rykopathe dropped and picks it up, then looks back. Rykopathe steps forward, but Gavin smacks the chair over Ryko's head, totalling the chair with the one hit and making Rykopathe fall to the mat hard.]

Tim: Sweet Lord, did you see that!? Gavin Coens is taking the advantage already with that huge chair shot!

Jeff: See? I told you that Gavin was gonna take the early lead. Damn I'm good!

Tim: Ugh...

[Gavin brings Rykopathe to his feet, then lands a few punches into Rykopathe's face. Gavin moves Rykopathe back a little bit, then kicks him in the midsection and hits a Sitrdown Powerbomb on him. Gavin stays in the hold as the ref slides to the mat...]

[One, two, t-KICKOUT!!!]

Tim: Near fall already. Gavin Coens planned on going into this match and showing his stguff, and he's doing it very well already!

Jeff: This match is still yet to get good...

[Gavin pushes Rykopathe's legs from his shoulder and gets in the face of the ref, yelling something about a slow count. Ryko begins to show signs of life as he sits up very slowly, then gets to his feet. Gavin turns around to see Rykopathe lean over and hits a series of rights to the face. Gavin backs off a little, and Rykopathe charges at him. Rykopathe dives towards Coens, whio is near the ropes. Rykopathe spears Gavin through the middle ropes, and both men go flying through the table set up outside the ring!]

Jeff: YEAH! That's real wrestling right there! This match is finally going!

Tim: What a maneuver there by J. Simon Rykopathe! Both men are already out cold!

[Both men lie motionless on top of the broken pieces of the table. Rykopathe is the first to move, twitching his arm a little and sitting up a bit. Gavin rolls over to the side of the table, trying to use the barricade as a crutch to stand. Rykopathe gets to his feet slowly, and walks over near Coens. Gavin gets thrown into the ring by Rykopathe, who follows him very slowly. Both men stand up and exchange a few punches. Gavin (out of nowhere) k\icks Rykopathe in the crotch, then spins him around and hits a Russian Legsweep, Rykopathe's head bouncing off the mat.]

Tim: Where did that come from!?

Jeff: I believe Gavin has a few more tricks up his sleeve...

[Gavin stands up and pciks Rykopathe up by shoving his hand into Rykopathe's mouth and lifting him up by the roof of his mouth. Rykopathe stands up as Gavin elbows him hard in the back of the neck. He then sets Rykopathe up on the apron in a top-rope suplex position. Gavin climbs up himself and picks Rykopathe up to the top rope, and stands up next to him. Both men are on the top rope standing side by side. Gavin suddenly jumps up on Rykopathe's shoulders (as if to do a top rope hurricanrana), then spins around to the back of Rykopathe's neck. Gavin then does a flip backwards and grabs the turnbuckle, but Rykopathe goes flying into a table from the reverse Frankensteiner!]

Tim: Oh my God!!!

Jeff: SHIT! Gavin just sent Rykopathe through that table from that move...whatever it was!

Tim: Rykopathe has to be dead right now...Gavin just hit a reverse Frankensteiner from the top rope! What was Gavin thinking, and is Rykopathe still semi-concious!?

[Gavin slides down from the mat and walks over to where Rykopathe is laying. Gavin shakes his head then raises his arms to the crowd. He gets a loud chorus of boos as he nods and smiles, then picks Rykopathe up and slides him back into the ring. Gavin takes his time sliding back into the ring, then finally goes for a cover by setting his boot on top of Rykopathe's chest.]

[One, two, thr-KICKOUT!!!]

Jeff: What the hell? How did Ryko kick outta that!?

Tim: That was a bad choice by Coerns, he could've had the win right there if he wasn't so conceited...

Jeff: Whatever...

[Gavin grabs his hair and looks over to the referee, who backs up into the corner and slides out of the ring. Gavin yells something that sounds like "Yeah, you better run..." then turns back to Rykopathe. Ryko is spewing blood onto the mat, in no condition to continue the match. Gavin shakes his head again and picks Rykopathe up, then sets him up for The Cardinal Syn. Somehow, Rykopathe slips out of the armbar and then turns back to Gavin. Gavin looks confused at the maneuver as Rykopathe kicks Gavin in the midsection, then hits a Gutwrench Thunderfire Powerbomb into a Neckbreaker, sending both men to the mat hard!]

Tim: Where did that come from!? The Pain Killer by Rykopathe, who is back in the ball game!...somehow...

Jeff: Damn this is getting good...

[Rykopathe hops to his feet and slowly sides out of the ring and grabs a chair, folding it up as he slides back in. Rykopathe stands Gavin back up, who is obviously groggy from the prior maneuver. Rykopathe climbs the turnbuckle slowly, then raises his chair up. Rykopathe then does a front flip from the top turnbuckle aiming to hit Gavin with the chair, but Gavin catches Rykopathe on his way down and locks in a double armbar, then hits a Front Russian Legsweep on him! Gavin quickly goes for the cover...]

[One, two, three!!!]

Tim: Gavin has done it, defeating Rykopathe with his finishing maneuver, the Cardinal Syn!

Jeff: Damn, man! He locked it in right when Rykopathe was about to hit him!

["Heavy" by Collective Soul hits as Gavin stands up, then picks Rykopathe up. He strings the noose around Ryko's neck, then motions for someone to raise it up. The noose slowly starts to rise as Rykopathe begins to be choked from it!]

Tim: What is Coens thinking!? He can't do this!!!

Jeff: I believe he is right now...

[Rykopathe struggles to take the noose off as officials run down to the ring. They help Rykopathe out of the noose as Gavin Coens slides out of the ring and starts walking up the ramp, snickering to himself.]

Tim: Folks, we'll be right back with our main event...

[Commercials]

~ I feel safe...
~ I feel scared...
~ I feel ready...
~ And yet I regret the world is not enough...

[The UNKLE remix of "The World Is Not Enough" begins to play, as the masses of fans get to their feet loudly. Silver lights flicker over the arena, adding to the already eerie vibes. Michael Trey steps out into the entrance wearing street attire: a black pair of jeans, tight white t-shirt under a black leather coat, and backwards black UNC fitted cap, complete with a slick pair of silver Ray-Bans. The music continues as he runs down to the ring, sliding in. He warms up, intense.]

Tim: Michael sure looks fired up here, Jeff.

Jeff: Well, a couple months without sex will do that to a guy.

Tim: You'd know, wouldn't you...

Jeff: What?

Tim: Nothing.

["Be Quiet And Drive" by the Deftones hits for The Lost Soul's entrance, but he doesn't enter. Michael gets slightly pissed off and kicks the ring ropes, yelling at the referee in anger. Once again, the music hits, but no one enters.]

Jeff: Where is he?

Tim: Lost Soul?

Jeff: Yeah.

Tim: I dunno... am I his secretary?

[Suddenly, some rustling goes on near the entryway curtains. Out bursts Claire Matthews, tears running down her face! She sprints down to the ring, glancing behind her nervously and gets in, hugging Michael. The ref hands Michael a microphone quickly as Michael holds Claire.]

Michael: Claire... you...

Claire: I finally got free, I know! Listen, I can't waste any time right now... you've got to know this.

[The ref and Michael both look at her quizically.]

Claire: The kidnapper left me alone, tied up after speaking earlier tonight. Every other week, the knots were tied just tight enough, but this week he got a little lazy and I wrenched my way out. Just when I was out of the chair and getting out, he came back. He tackled me to the ground. We struggled, and I gave him a stiff knee in the gut. Knocked the wind out of him.

Michael: Oh god Claire... it had to be horrible...

Claire: NO, that's not what I'm getting at! I got up and as I did, I accidentaly caught his mask up with me. I saw who it was, Michael. I saw him.

Michael: ... who the fuck was it?!

Claire: It was...

["Be Quiet And Drive" by the Deftones plays once again, Claire and Michael's microphone cutting out sound. Lost Soul walks through the curtain, holding a microphone. He's got a twisted look on his face.]

The Lost Soul: It was me.

[Claire nods and has been pointing. Michael runs towards the ropes facing the entryway, screaming at Lost Soul loudly.]

The Lost Soul: I savored every second - every tear - every scream - the moments where Michael was torn apart into a hopeless man. What motive - what reason - what would make me do this? You know - you've always known. You are a disgrace, Michael - a cancer - a virus - a parasite. You have eaten away at the HWF I once knew - without regard for others - without regard for their dignity and integrity - you have attempted to destroy my home.

[Michael swears loudly, motioning for Soul to get down to the ring. Trey doesn't seem to even be listening anymore.]

The Lost Soul: The time of restoration - when all I knew will return and all honorable men will recieve their due - that time is upon us. You already WERE the first - the first to fall to the blade of disgrace - and now... you fall to the blade of destruction.

[Lost Soul drops the microphone; a fuzzing sound is made as it fritzes out. He paces confidently to the ring, directly towards a hatred-filled Michael. Trey is practically ON fire, he's so upset. Lost Soul swiftly slides into the ring and gets to his feet. Claire simultaneously slides out the other side and runs around ringside to watch the match.]

Tim: Look at how traumatized Claire is... she can't even stand being near The Lost Soul.

Jeff: That's women for ya.

[Michael goes on the offensive and grabs The Lost Soul in a head lock. Soul pushes Trey into the ropes, then sends him to the far side ropes. Michael returns with a stiff running clothesline.]

Tim: Michael is fuckin' pissed.

Jeff: What a baby.

[Michael picks Lost Soul up by the hair. He lays a hard uppercut into LS, then attempts a double arm DDT.]

Tim: FLASH OF PA-

[Lost Soul blocks it, seperating the two. Quickly, LS nails Trey with a kick to the gut and drives him to the mat hard with a gutwrench powerbomb, the thud ringing against the mat.]

Tim: Damnit... that was harsh.

Jeff: The blade... he's falling hard, Tim.

[Lost Soul quickly climbs the turnbuckle. As Michael slowly gets to his feet, LS jumps off and drops Michael hard to the mat with a missle dropkick. He floats over to the fallen Michael, locking him in a ankle lock.]

Jeff: BREAK IT OFF!

[Michael squirms in pain, shouting each time Lost Soul cranks onto the ankle harder. LS finally gives up and calls for a chair, which is tossed into the ring by an attendant. He sets it up in the middle of the ring and grabs Michael, pulling him to his feet.]

Tim: Aw shit...

[LS whips Trey into the ropes. As he returns, Soul applies a perfect drop toe hold RIGHT onto the chair seat. Michael's head crushes the chair, form fitting to the steel. Lost Soul calls for another one and slams into right onto the first one, undoubtedly ringing Trey's bell something fierce. Lost Soul turns to the crowd and motions at Michael. He then turns to Claire... making the point that Michael still isn't doing anything about his problems.]

Tim: I'm not sure if this is wise of Lost Soul.

Jeff: Your opinion sucks ass, Tim. Don't make the entire world listen to it...

[Michael twists the first chair off his head and slides it aside. He slowly stands and grabs the second chair, still relatively unbent. Lost Soul is still tormenting Claire as Michael stealthily sneaks behind him.]

Jeff: SOUL! BEHIND YOU!

[Lost Soul hears Jeff say this and turns, catching an upward golf swing style chairshot that absolutely resonates throughout the arena. Lost Soul drops hard to the mat, holding his head with both hands. Michael drops the chair, falling to his knees.]

Tim: I think Michael is still unrecovered from the first shots that Lost Soul gave him...

[The crowd begins to clap and stomp, trying to revive one of the men. Michael finally gets slowly to his feet, evoking a cheer from the fans. As he stumbles around, Lost Soul rises to his hands and knees. Michael turns and sees him. Quickly, Trey runs and kicks LS square in the ribs. Michael swears angrily and then spits down at Soul, adding on another vicious kick for good measure.]

Tim: This is just unlike Michael, here. He's... he's...

Jeff: ... changed?

Tim: ...

[Michael regains his bearings and pulls LS back up. Trey stands Lost Soul up against the ropes and swings wildly, trying to clothesline LS out of the ring. Soul ducks though and back body drops Michael over the top. He tumbles to the floor and Soul slowly slides outside as well, covering for a pinfall.]

[One... ...Two... ...Th...Shoulder Up!]

Tim: Trey just barely got out of that one... I think Soul is better than we thought.

Jeff: Not to mention he's got just as much purpose as Trey here.

Tim: Purpose?!

Jeff: Michael destroyed the HWF.

Tim: You buy into anything, don't you?

[Lost Soul exhales loudly and stands to his feet. Grabbing Michael by the hair, he leads him towards the announce table and clears everything off and everybody out.]

Tim: Goddamnit, Soul!

Jeff: WOOD... WOOD... WOOD!

Tim: Enough with your latently homoerotic tendencies, Jeff.

Jeff: Lay what? Forget that, Lost Soul is gonna put Trey OUT.

[Lost Soul lifts Michael onto the table and climbs onto it as well. He locks Michael into the DDT position.]

Tim: He's going to finish Michael off on the table!

Jeff: Yes... Do it, Lost Soul! Nail him with "Raising High the Roof Beam"!

[Lost Soul tries to lift Trey up for the High Angle DDT, but Michael elbows him once... twice... and stands upright, jabbing Lost Soul in the jaw hard. Soul instantly reaches up and holds his jaw, in pain. Michael's eyes widen in anger, blazing. He grabs and hits LS with a lightning fast Flash of Pain (double arm DDT) through the table!]

Jeff: Holy shit!

Tim: Fuck, I think Soul hit his head on the monitor! He's down hard!

[Indeed, Lost Soul is out cold. Michael is laid out too though. Trey slowly sits up, turns... he reaches across the debris, barely getting an arm onto the Lost Soul.]

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

Tim: MICHAEL WON! MICHAEL WON!

Jeff: This is such bullshit...

[Michael rolls into the ring with Claire as EMTs come out to check out Lost Soul. Amazingly, he's up and to his feet within seconds, blood streaming from his forehead, down onto his face. He dives towards the ring, struggling against the EMTs to get at Trey.]

Tim: Get security down here... now...

Jeff: No way, let them fight! FIGHT!

Tim: Come on, get him out of here! The match is over!

[A few security men come out to help the EMTs, and they escort Lost Soul backstage. Just before he exits, he turns at the top of the ramp and looks at Claire and Michael... a bloody and odd smile passes over his face. The security men nudge him and he leaves.]

Tim: Ladies and gentlemen... this has been one hell of a night. For Jeff Robinson, I'm...

Jeff: Tim.. I don't think we're done.

[Their attention turns back into the ring, where Michael is holding Claire by the arms, not angrily now but in a ashamed but longing way. He slowly talks to her.]

Tim: What... what's he saying?

[Michael speaks to her a few more minutes. He then turns to a ring attendant, signalling for a shirt he removed before the match. It gets tossed into the ring. Cameras zoom in on him as he speaks, holding the shirt.]

Michael: I never realized it before, Claire. We have been best friends for almost all our lives... and I thought it would always be that way. But when I lost you, I realized that I loved you. I love you Claire.

Claire: ... I love you too, Michael.

Michael: But what I realized was that I never, ever, EVER want to live without you again. I need you in my life Claire. You are a part of me, and when that part was no longer there, I felt so very hollow. I love you, not just as a friend but as a soulmate.

[Trey reaches into a pocket of the shirt, bringing out a small, black jewelry box. The entire crowd sucks in a breath as Michael slowly drops to one knee and opens the box, showing a very, very nice diamond ring.]

Michael: Claire... will you marry me?

[Claire's eyes go wide. She looks at the ring, at Michael, at the ring, and back to Michael. She begins to cry and wraps her hands around his neck strongly, nodding her head rapidly.]

Claire: Yes... yes, of course I will.

[The entire crowd erupts into applause as Michael stands and spins around, holding Claire close to him.]

Tim: This is absolutely amazing... this crowd is... electric. They're emotionally attached to these two... so attached. Look, there are even men in the crowd crying...

Jeff: ... damn babies ...

Tim: Jeff, shut your fucking mou-

[Tim is cut off. The lights black out once more, and on the HWF-tron stands Lost Soul. Without emotion, he stares outward. After a moment, he turns to a single lighted candle on a table and blows it out.]

Tim: What the fuck is going on...

[The lights come back on... Michael and Claire are holding each other, afraid and joyful at the same time. Terrified but happy, scared and exhilarated. They turn towards each other and hug strongly as Suicide goes off the air.]