 January 27, 2001 [6:43 pm | The Philips Arena, Atlanta Georgia] [The scene is in the back of the arena. Phoenix is walking around backstage by himself. Phoenix is wearing his Zero t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his Hardcore Title wrapped around his waist. Phoenix sees a $100 bill lying on the floor below him. He stops and looks around to see if anybody else is looking, which they aren't, so he bends over to get it. But the $100 is moved away, Phoenix follows it, trying to get the bill but it moves every time he gets to it. Eventually the bill is pulled into the men's bathroom. Phoenix looks around again before entering but before he can turn around "The Original Prankster" JD Brady hits Phoenix over the head with a empty flower pot which breaks into a million little pieces! Brady looks over the fallen Phoenix and takes the Hardcore Title off of the waist of Phoenix. Brady kisses it, and waves bye, bye to Phoenix as the scene fades away.] [As we await the opening theme to Saturday Suicide , the camera comes up on Vice President Bisc Limpkit at the snack table, getting coffee and Krispy Kremes.] Bisc: Where are the friggin marshmallows? There is mixed reaction from the crowd, which grows in intensity as Silky Palms, decked out in his ALL NEW "Sir Psycho Sexy" muscle shirt(available soon!)... and Adidas warm up pants strides into view. Silky: Marshmallows? You know what those things are made of? Bisc: Well, as I live and breath, the TRUE SWF champion, Silky Palms. Silky: And one half of the SWF's second greatest tag team, Bisc Limpkit. Bisc: [with a smug grin]We beat you guys, if I remember correctly. Silky: That's only cause I had OTHER things to do that night... Namely making my way to winning my FIRST official SWF World Championship... But I'm not here to reminisce... I'm here about Kyle. Bisc: You're not still pissed that he's fighting Ryker, are you? Silky: [lip twitching] No... no of course not! No...it's just.. Well, you saw his interview with Bradshaw? Bisc: Yeah, he was PISSED! Silky: I know! He assaulted a staff member...only a couple of weeks after he stole MY title belt from ringside... he's got all these delusions he keeps spouting... I think the kids delusional...maybe even... I hate to say it, but do you think he's... on something? Bisc: [looking at Silky with a bit of confusion] What, like roids? Silky: I dunno, I just don't trust him. I'd like you to ban him from interfering in my match tonight. Set some kind of penalty... like, I dunno... if he interferes with the match, he can never again refer to himself as the SWF champion. [This gets a HUGE reaction from the crowd... they're furious!] Bisc: Wow, that's kind of harsh... Silky: C'mon... For all his talk, Kyle never HELD the title when the fed reopened. He lost to Johnny Drake in the ladder match when it reopened, thereby negating his whole argument of "I've never been beaten for the strap!"... and as for me not being in that match at No Turning Back... YOU put me in that match, just assure as Trey put Kyle in, and I WON. He wasn't even going to get another shot at it! The next match was me, Johnny, and Inferna. Hell, Kyle was gonna be wrestling for the BREAKDOWN belt for Christ's sake! How appropriate, since he seems to have suffered some kind of breakdown himself. In his deluded little mind, he still thinks that belt means something, so you just set the grounds that, if he messes with me in ANY way when we don't have a SCHEDULED match, he loses that title, for good, and we can finally bury that has been fed. Bisc: Well, the fans have gotten sick of the run-ins and dusty finishes here... Mr. Palms, you've got a deal! [They shake hands, and Suicides opening theme kicks in.] ["Last Resort" blasts onto the speakers.] #Cut my life into pieces
[Clips play. Hellish scenes of the Saint and Burton Adler beating each other to the edge of their lives in the Boston Death Match of Hardcore Hangover 2. "The Icon" J. Simon Rykopathe's epic dive off the HWF-Tron, falling in slow motion, crashing through the stacked tables to meet the floor of Parade of Cannibals 2. Various clips of the several Falling from Grace Matches over the past year are shown, followed by the shockfest that was the Final Solution.] [Inside the arena, the Papa Roach hit continues to rowdy the Atlanta crowd. Tim Miller and Jeff Robinson stand in the center of the ring, surrounding by thousands of raging, rabid HWF junkies.] Tim: ATLANTA, GEORGIA... WELCOME TO SATURDAY SUICIDE!!! [Roar of the crowd] Tim: Are you ready to get... HARD TO THE F'N CORE?!?! [Another roar] Tim: Fasten your seatbelts, hang on, cause the HWF is HERE! I'm Tim Miller and... [Tim hands the mic to Jeff as chants of "JEFF! JEFF!" echo through the arena.] Jeff: and I am the voice of Hardcore. Jeff... "I met a nice chick the other day on the street. The down side is she has a dog that humps my leg. No worries, she is a great treat... and I'll get to tap her ass like a keg!!" [The crowd cheers for Jeff.] Jeff: ROBINSON!! [He tosses the mic to Tim.] Tim: You're starting to run dry, bud. [Jeff grabs the mic back.] Jeff: Nah, Tim... This well NEVER runs dry! [The fans erupt as Jeff and Tim exit the ring.] [Fans cheer for last weeks match.] Jeff: Where the hell did the lights go? [Then after about 5 seconds the lights come back on as Phoenix is left standing alone in the ring. Phoenix looks around, bewildered, at where Brady went. Then on the HWF-Tron Brady is shown in the backstage area, now we note that he is wearing a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve yellow shirt which on the center says "Big Pete's Garage" and a backwards red baseball hat with the HWF Title around his waist.] JD Brady: Hey Phoenix, the chase is on! [As soon as that is said there is a lot of stirring going on in the crowd as you can see there are a lot of people wearing... backwards red baseball hats! Some of them, probably around 20, emerge from the crowd and start to walk around the ring area...and they are also wearing long sleeve yellow shirts and a pair of blue jeans and look almost identical to JD Brady! Phoenix looks around confused, as more men come from the back that are dressed exactly like Brady! You can hear Brady's laugh over the arena as we cut to commercial.] Street Fight Tim – And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the first match of the night, "The Canadian Killah" Chris Thrilla versus "Black Tiger" Tatsumi Hashimoto versus "Raging" Rickey Williams in a Three-Way Street Fight! ['Nakimushi Death Match' by The Garlic Boys blares throughout the arena as the lights dim a bit. After a moment Tatsumi emerges from the back followed by Jin. Tatsumi plays to the fans, head banging and jumping around while Jin stands motionless a few feet behind him. Tatsumi reaches behind him and pulls his Sickle from his waist band and holds it over his head eliciting a mixed reaction from the fans. After a few more moments Tatsumi and Jin head to the ring and Tatsumi hands his Sickle to Jin before sliding into the ring. Jin takes his place on the outside in Tatsumi's corner as Tatsumi climbs to the top of one of the turnbuckles, massages his throat with two fingers, and then blows dark blacks moke high into the air. The fans murmur, their reaction decidedly mixed as Tatsumi climbs down and awaits his opponent.] [ The lights in the stadium dim as the camera focuses on the HWF-tron. On the massive screen stretches a gigantic brickwall, with nothing more than a low rumbling sound emitting from the PA system. The rumbling gets louder and louder as it becomes clear it's a loud engine on full throttle. The roar reaches its apex has the brickwall explodes, and a large, Ford Duelly Pickup blasts through as the lights flash wildly to the opening riff of "What If". Rickey Williams walks through the entrance, surveys the audience, and starts to walk calmly down the rampway. As he reaches the ring he slides in, jumping onto the nearest turnbuckle and raises a cupped hand to his ear to get a louder response from the crowd. He then jumps down and stands in the ring, staring coldly up the rampway.] Jeff – Beer swiggin’ and jaw jackin’ indeed. I’ll bet the guy’s drunk right now. [The camera cuts outside to a limo that is slowly pulling up to the driveway. Just who could it be - well - that question is answered quite quickly. The back door opens as the long limo finally pulls to a halt and out steps the beautiful Claire - as well as Michael Trey right behind her. He holds her hand in his and they look deep into each others eyes and lock into a small kiss - getting a huge "Awwww" from the crowd in the arena watching this. All of a sudden the lights flicker in the garage and The Lost Soul is standing right behind the limo! He is just sitting there looking at the two in liplock. He has one arm on the car and one arm that you can't see. All of a sudden he coughs - and they do nothing. He coughs again and Trey flips him off - not even so much as opening his eyes form his tongue embrace with Claire! The Lost Soul then - in one quick - smooth motion - SLAMS A CROWBAR THROUGH THE BACK WINDSHIELD OF THE LIMO! Trey bites Claire's tongue - she pulls back in a bit of pain and Trey turns around - only not to see The Lost Soul at all. All he sees is a crowbar - and a broken windshield with glass all over the backseat of the car. He then turns to Claire who is cursing a bit under her breath.] Michael Trey: What the fuck - WHO the fuck was that? Claire: I - I - OUCH! I bith mii tong! Michael Trey: *laughs* Well - you didn't bite it really - it was actually me but - - [Trey is cut off mid-sentence as Claire punches him in the stomach and storms off towards the locker room. Trey starts to go and apologize as the driver finally gets out of the front seat - and it looks like there is a nice fresh wet spot on his pants. Obviously this is the first thing Trey sees - and smells. Therefore he has to comment about it.] Michael Trey: Did the big loud bang scare the driver? Awww - should I get you a napkin to wipe that up? Driver: I WAS going to tell you that I saw a red-haired man in the rearview mirror as you and Mrs. Claire were "involved" - but now.. [Trey is visibly upset - and he punches the driver right in the face and storms off after Claire. The driver falls to the ground - and the camera focuses on the driver's face - a bit of blood starting to trickle down his nose - and a pair of black boots step into the light. The camera rises up as you see a pair of dark black wool dress pants - but a bit baggier than normal - with a tight dark red shirt. Coming up there is nothing on the neck area - but you see what looks like some wet long red hair - until you see the scar running down the right side of his face - and a seven-sided tattoo on the forehead. The camera zooms out at The Lost Soul looking down at the driver - then look up at Trey storming down the hall and shaking his head. The Lost Soul picks up the driver - dusts him off - and the driver looks a bit wary and scared. The Lost Soul hands him a bill and the driver smiles and pats The Lost Soul's back. He grins - and The Lost Soul picks the driver off his feet and sends him headfirst through the driver's side window without remorse. The Lost Soul just smiles and walks away - the camera zooms up on the driver who is busted wide open on the forehead.] Tim: The Regular match of Death is up next.... Jeff: Yes, what is up with that anyway, we need a Two Out of Three falls ladder match here or something..... Regular Match [As Jeff says that, suddenly "Boys 'n the Hood" by Dynamite Hack play and Styles makes his way, slowly, from the back. He stops at the top of the ramp and yellow and silver pyro-techniques EXPLODE all around him. As the ptro-techniques die down Styles emerges from the smoke of the explosions making his way down the ramp towards the ring acknowledging the crowd the whole way. Styles arrives at the ring, jumps onto the apron and flips into the middle of the ring. Styles then "grooves" to his entrance music for a short while. As the music dies down Styles makes his way to a corner and takes a seat. ] Tim: And here's Styles, and he's ready for this one.... Jeff:........*snore* Tim: Ahh common, this match is gunna be good Styles vs Sil.. Jeff: OoOooooo it's Silky time! [A funky wah-wah guitar rif bumps out of the PA.... The words "Sir... Psycho... Sexy!!!" flash on screen as they are anounced by a loud electronic voice, as the chorus of the Red Hot Chili Peppers song of the same name plays out.] Jeff: A long, long, long long time a go...before the rain...before the snow....lived a man, lived a man... Tim: Lived a SHUT THE HELL UP! [Clips of Silky lounging in bed, scantily clad women crawling all over like ferets hopped up on ecstacy... Walking out to get his mail in a gold thong... delivering his arsenal of moves on a plethora of opponents. Silky bursts through the curtain to the accompanyment of many a cat call and hollar, Sho'nuff and Big Poppa Pimp behind him... Silky does a deep double bicep pose, then continues to strut his way to the ring. When he gets close enough, he springs onto the apron, and then, using the top rope for leverage, flips over into the ring, dramatically swings his arms, spins into the center of the ring, and hits another pose to the accompanyment of a four corner-pyro-fountain. He stands and begins to slide off his jacket, pausing only to cast a dismissive glance toward his opponent.] Jeff: It's SILKY! Tim: Yes! Wow! And the Pimp Squad! Wow! [Silky then hits a huge kneeling bicep pose as the timekeeper rings the bell and the match is underway. Styles shoots up from his seated position, and runs in for a quick running head scissors, but Silky drops down, sending Styles face first into the mat in a high-angle face first powerbomb 'o doom. Styles is quick to grab his face, and rolls over where Silky starts kickin' him like a soccer ball. Styles covers up and begins to get to his feet, where Silky starts to use some kick-combinations that'd make Limpkit himself proud. Styles blocks a low rib kick, and Silky counters with a huge, spinning and jumping hook kick, that sends Styles over the turnbuckle and out to the floor, as the crowd Boo Sir Pyscho Sexy.] Tim: OOoh, I think Styles hit his head into the apron on the way down. Jeff: SILKY YOU KILL HIM MAN, YOU KILL! [Silky rolls to the outside, and grabs a chair, before remembering the regular ruling on the matchup, he basically then chucks the chair at Chris to scare the poor guy. Styles ducks it, and catches a laughing Silky off guard with a vicious Cappoirra like Handstall Uppercut Kick thingo-majig. Styles lands on his feet, and quickly rolls Silky in before the 10 count. Styles hops up on the apron and spings off the top rope, then lands on his bumb, then flips out into a splash onto Silky.....ref drops for the cover] [One.....T...] Jeff: Not even close there.... [Styles then runs across to the far ropes, and runs, jumps over Silky, who quickly stands....Styles bounces in the close ropes, turns then leapfrogs Silky and bounces back off the far ropes, he returns again, and Silky catches him in a Sleeperhold Clothesline hit that sends Styles to the ground, Silky keeps the chinlock on, but then slides it into a Full-Nelson and Tries to Camal Clutch him over, but Styles - wisely - scurries back under Silkies legs, then counters with a seated drop kick to Silky's ass.] Tim: He just KICKED Silky's ass! Jeff: Oooh, if the Crucible Cruntch got locked in, it woulda all been over man.... Tim: Yeah, BUT, it wasn't....so there! [Silky stumbles forward and looks pissed, Styles stands and leans back and bounces off the ropes, then runs at Silky. Silky turns and catches a Flying Styles, he then presses him up into the air, and Silk Streems him into the canvas....Jeff automatically goes spaz at ringside, but upon impact Styles bounces and rolls unconcious to the outside. Silky clicks his fingers in a "So close" type pose, before rolling outside where he picks up the Dead Weight and whips him into the barricade before rolling him back in. Silky then scales the turnbuckle.He hits a Chris Styles pose, before leaping off in an Intensity Styles frog splash, nailing Chris across the legs, and sending his own body writhing around and holding his guts.] Tim: He just used one of Styles' finishers on Styles! Jeff: Oh? Tim: Yes... Jeff: I wondered why I've never seen Silky do that before, he should stop, it made him look bad... [Styles, limps over to Silky, and rubs his legs a bit to eliviate the pain before he grabs Silky in a half crab, rolls him over, then drops back locking on a facelock....] Tim: STF IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! Jeff: Wow, Silky is sooooo not going to quit. [Silky looks to be in a bit of pain however, and his eyes seem to glaze over into that off anger. He zones out from the pain, before Styles let's go of it beacause Silky wont quit. He then drops Silky down with a Michinoku Driver, and goes for the pin.] [One....Two....Thr..] Jeff: PHEW! He kicked out! Tim: So you're saying you doubted the Silky One's inner power? Jeff: ...... [Anyway, Silky rolls to the outside, and looks to be phasing into his dreaded Pyscho Millitary background. Styles climbs the top rope, and signals the end, and takes flight in the biggest hang-time Intensity Splash ever seen. He plants Silky RIGHT ON THE CHEST, knocking Silky's wind out from his gizuts. Styles too looks hurt and he grabs his guts....] Tim: Oh gosh, if that was in the ring, it would be over right now.... [Moments pass, as Silky get's up FIRST. He rolls in, to break the count, then rolls out. He then picks up Styles and does a right-left-right boxing combination on him, before kicking him SQUARE in the scrotemsac. Silky then grabs him in a front facelock, and pulls him up 60 degrees before dropping Styles on his head on the concrete. Silky then instantly get's up, regardless if he just hit the Final Curtain, and starts stomping away at Styles....] Jeff: Shit! Silky's gone into Postal Worker mode... [He's right, as Silky polls a table from under the ring, and set's it up. Silky then rolls Styles up onto the table, and rolls into the ring. Silky then spots Styles, as the ref tries to discourage Silky's actions, Silky fobs him off, and pushes the ref away as Silky springboards up onto the top rope, and does a picture perfect twisting senton through the air as the lights cut off and all you can hear is the sound of the table smashing.] Jeff [In the silence]: WHAT THE HELL?! Tim: What just happened? [The lights cut back on like nothing has happened, and Silky is standing, looking bemused. He then rolls the hurt Styles back into the ring, and Rolls in himself. Silky then picks Styles back up and locks on a facelock as the lights cut out AGAIN.] Jeff: WHAT THE FUCK, Drake is soooo going to fire them damn light-operater duders... [From the enterence red strobe light comes on, where you can see a third man in the ring. Presumably the same man that was in the tag match last week. The lights cut back out, then return to normal. But this time, the man is STILL there, standing directly in the center of the ring. Silky and Chris are both sprawled out in the ring. Silky is still moving, but has gotta be hurt as.......] Man: "This is . . . only the beginning of what Rage will do . . ." [He brings the mic down for a moment, and looks around. Then speaks again into the mic.] Man: "Phoenix . . . Solomon . . . Trey . . . Renegade . . . Sterling . . . Starr . . . and everyone else . . ." Jeff: What the fuck is he talking about? Tim: Well if you would shut UP, we just might know. Jeff: ...bastard. Man: "Next week . . . Suicide . . . Rage will show you all the true meaning of . . . pain. Rage . . . and Chris Styles . . ." [He looks at Styles on the ground, still unconcious.] Man: ". . . Barbwire Death Match . . ." Tim: What??? Man: "No one is safe . . . from Rage . . ." [Just then, the lights cut back out again. Then suddenly, it seems like the ring bursts into flames, and spells out the word "RAGE" in fire. But when the lights finally return to normal, there is no fire, and no Rage. Only Silky and Styles who're still layed out on the mat, and the mic he was holding lays motionless in the center of the ring.] Jeff: ...... Tim: ...... Jeff: ...... Tim: ...... Jeff: ......WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!?!? Tim: Your guess is as good as mine, Jeff. Jeff: Who the shit WAS that guy?? Tim: I'm assuming it was Rage, from what he said. Jeff: I knew that! Tim: [sighs] We'll be right back... Jeff: So Silky lost the match? Tim: No, it's a Draw or something, Goddamnit... [Backstage] [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.] Jeff: I don't know about your funk-ass Tim, but I gotta feeling...a feeling that comes from the bottom of my black-tarred lungs...that Mayhem is gonna pull it off and win the Canadian Title. Tim: (sarcastically) Well Jeff, we all know how your predictions are the top of the line... Jeff: Just shut yer ass cheeks and see... Canadian Title Match ["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.] Tim: And here's the current Canadian Champ, who I believe is the favorite in this match, through most people's eyes anyway. He has more experience here in the HWF, and God knows that no one is prepared for what goes on here. Then again, Mayhem is... Jeff: Go fuck a pig, the match is starting. [Mayhem charges Zakin barely after Zakin gets in the ring, and the bell sounds. Mayhem lays in about 5 good punches into Zakin's skull, then brings him down with a short-arm clothesline. Zakin gets back up quickly, and the two men brawl in the center of the ring. Zakin lays a few good punches into Mayhem's skull, then backs off a little. Zakin then knees him in the stomach, putting Mayhem into a Pumphandle-Slam position. Zakin picks Mayhem up with the pumphandle, then swings it into a fall-forward Inverted DDT!] Tim: The Inside Edition by David Zakin, and so early too! This match is looking to be a good one... Jeff: And it might end in a happy ending too...heheheh... [Zakin gets back up and starts to climb up the turnbuckles as Mayhem gets up on his knee. Zakin suddenly flies off of the turnbuckle and aims for a missile dropkick to Mayhem's face. Mayhem moves at the last second, as Zakin lands feet first in the mat. Zakin's right leg twists in an unpleasant manner, as Mayhem bounces off the ropes and kicks Zakin square in the nose with the kickoff-like maneuver.] Tim: Look at this! That was uncalled for right there, Mayhem shouldn't have been allowed to do that... Jeff: Hahaha! Look at the dumb mofo bleed! Tim: Ugh... [Mayhem lets out a sudden laugh, then picks Zakin up by the hair. Mayhem backs Zakin into a corner and lands a few more punches into his nose, making the wound only worse. Zakin, with a sudden burst of strength, pushes Mayhem back. Mayhem charges towards Zakin, but gets hit with a standing side kick to the chin from Zakin. Mayhem stumbles back as Zakin shakes off some of the fatigue in the corner. Mayhem regains his balance and comes back to Zakin, who is also rejuvenated from the short pause. The two grapple in the ring, with the two repeatedly reversing arm holds. Finally, Mayhem pushes Zakin back, then charges him once again. Zakin moves at the last moment, then throws Mayhem out of the ring by his mask. Mayhem somehow lands on his feet, but turns around to meet a diving David Zakin, jumping through the ropes and tackling him to the concrete floor!] Jeff: This shit's already gettin' good, baby! Tim: Yes, Zakin and Mayhem are starting the violence early here. [Zakin gets up and picks Mayhem up along with him, then Zakin whips Mayhem into the steel steps. Mayhem trips right before hitting the steps, landing his skull into the hard steel! The crowd "Ooohs" at the sound of Mayhem's forehead smashing into the steps, but Mayhem gets up after only a few seconds. Zakin walks forward and the two proceed to brawl fist to fist. Mayhem gets the best of Zakin, hitting a snap back breaker drop to Zakin on the concrete. Zakin grabs his back in agony from the move, as Mayhem goes under the ring and starts to dig for weapons. Zakin starts to use the barricade as a crutch to get up, but Mayhem stands back up with something that makes the audience scream...] Jeff: A FUCKIN' CHAINSAW!!! Tim: What in God's great glory is that sadistic bastard Mayhem thinking!? Jeff: And what the hell is Zakin gonna do about it!? Hah, I love this! [Mayhem pulls the chain back and starts up Love, his silver-bladed double bladed chainsaw. Zakin's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, and Zakin looks around for something to use. Mayhem starts to swing the chainsaw around like an axe-murderer, when Zakin suddenly drop-toe holds him. Mayhem trips forward, and comes down with the chainsaw...the chainsaw brushes against his right ear as he hits the ground, and blood starts gushing from it!] Tim: God! The chainsaw just cut through Mayhem's mask and brushed against his ear! Jeff: Dude! Well, I don't think that it cut his whole ear off, but SHIT this rocks! Heheheh...the chainsaw just played a Mike Tyson on Mayhem! Hah! Tim: What the fuck is wrong with you!? Jeff: My mommy dropped me when I was a baby. Tim: Ugh...a man is losing pints of blood by the second out here! [Mayhem is having a cursing fit on the floor, as Zakin fully stands up still using the barricade. Zakin walks over to the chainsaw and throws it into the ring, making small pieces of the mat fly everywhere. Zakin digs under the ring a little, then throws in a chair and a barbed wire coil. Zakin gets a sadistic look on his face as he turns and picks Mayhem up and rolls him in the ring. Zakin follows him, picking up the chair on after standing up. Mayhem somehow gets to his feet, standing against the turnbuckle with his hand on his ear. Zakin starts to wrap the barbed wire around the chair, getting a pop from the crowd. Zakin bangs it against the mat to get Mayhem's attention, then charges and swings it at him. Mayhem ducks at the last moment, then turns Zakin around. Mayhem kicks Zakin in the midsection, which makes the chair fall from Zakin's hands. Mayhem then puts Zakin in a front chancery and lifts him up, into a hanging brainbuster. Mayhem holds him up there for damn near a minute, then brings him down onto the chair and waists no time in going for the cover.] [One, two, th-KICKOUT!!!] Tim: Look at the carnage displayed here! We got blood gushing from half a man's ear, a man who just got driven into a barbed wire chair, a chainsaw which just tore up the ring, and a shitload of weapons lying around from when Mayhem dug around under the ring!!! Jeff: All I got to say is...oh fuck, fuck fukety, fuck witta fuck da fuck fuck da fuck fuck YEAH!!! Tim: You have a beautiful vocabulary, Jeff. Jeff: Spanks you. [Mayhem grabs his ear again and curses under his breath as Zakin starts to show some signs of life. Mayhem stands up slowly and starts to prod with the barbed wire on the chair as Zakin starts to get up using the turnbuckle as leverage. Mayhem finally rips the barbed wire from the chair, then turns to Zakin who is almost standing up. Mayhem charges Zakin with the barbed wire outstretched, when Zakin suddenly standing side kicks Mayhem's chest, shoving the barbed wire straight into his stomach!] Tim: God! Mayhem just got stuck to that barbed wire! Jeff: Hehe, yeah, part of his ear ain't the only thing Mayhem's losing from his body tonight...heh... Tim: Sicko fat bastard... [Mayhem stands with his hands on the barbed wire for a few seconds, obviously in shock from what just happened. Zakin sadistically chuckles, then spears Mayhem to the ground as the barbed wire goes flying out of the ring. Zakin picks up Mayhem's leg and goes for the pin.] [One, two, thr-KICKOUT!!!] Tim: Gawd, this match should be over!!! Jeff: I bet it will be in a second... [Zakin curses loudly and picks Mayhem up, as if to finish him off with one move. Suddenly, Mayhem pushes Zakin into the ropes from behind. Zakin twists and hits the ropes, then runs back at Mayhem. Mayhem grabs Zakin's neck, making a sick "thump" sound, then lifts Zakin into the air. Mayhem laughs out loud, then brings Zakin down on the chair in the ring with a THUNDEROUS Chokeslam! Mayhem goes for the cover...] [One, two, THREE!!!] Jeff: MY GOD THE SORRY BASTARD'S DONE IT!!! Tim: NEW CANADIAN CHAMPION! MAYHEM IS THE NEW HWF CANADIAN CHAMPION!!! Jeff: And the best part is...my predictions was right! Wooooohoooo! Tim: I don't know if Mayhem was supposed to win this title, I'm not sure if Zakin was ready for what happened here tonight but...Mayhem has done it! [The camera this time comes on the future Mr. and Mrs. Trey in their locker room. Claire is just sitting in a chair - while Trey is pacing around like a madman muttering things to himself as all of those great people do.] Michael Trey: When I get ahold of that fucking.. DAMN IT. Did you even SEE what he did to our driver? HE ALMOST KILLED THE POOR BASTARD! Damn man - what the FUCK is he thinking? It's OK if you do it to a wrestler ya know - but a fucking driver? A DRIVER? WHY!?! Claire: Maybe - he was trying to make a statement to us. Michael Trey: I won't have anymore statement being made - this shit is going to stop HERE AND NOW. I don't know why he's still bothering us - I put his ass to rest last week on Suicide and now he wants a little more punishment - he is trying to just get beaten by me THREE weeks in a row since that bastards return. He should have just stayed dead - he doesn't have anything. Vic Williams hasn't been around him - the Anti-Heroes haven't helped him - he's got nothing or nobody. He's helpless. And I'm going to destroy him now before he can harm anyone else. Claire: No. You aren't. [Michael looks at her like she just said she would like to have a wild lesbian orgy with a bunch of Victoria Secret girls - only he doesn't get a hard on.] Claire: You heard me. I've got something of his that he wants - that he holds very near and dear to him. Let's just say that I wasn't just going to not notice some of the mannerisms he did - what he held important to him. And one day he just left this item there - so I got it and he never knew anything happened to it. So now I feel it's time to show him just what I'M made of. He knows you can kick his ass any day Michael - but I want to prove that I can take that idiot out as well. [Michael shakes his head in disapproval.] Michael Trey: I don't think it's - - Claire: TRUST ME. He won't do anything to me - he won't hurt me or anything. Trust me Michael... don't you trust me? I TRUST YOU. [Claire looks at Michael with only that look you can give a man who is whipped and knows he is beaten - and Michael silently nods but still express his disapproval - as Claire gets a very wicked grin on her face.] [The camera fades in to the backstage, where Kyle Solomon is sitting in his locker room getting pumped up for the match. A loud pop from the crowd is heard, when a knock at Solomon's door is heard.] Kyle Solomon: Come in. [The door opens, and Head Executive Tre Coleman steps in. Another pop from the crowd is heard, as Tre walks up to Solomon and the two shake hands.] Kyle Solomon: Hey man, I haven't talked to you for awhile. Tre Coleman: Heh, yeah, I've...uh...been kinda busy lately with some side HWF projects...anyway, I came here to talk to you about your match with Rykopathe later tonight. Kyle Solomon: Aight, cool. What is it? Tre Coleman: Well, you see...J. Simon Rykoipathe has been a true player in the HWF for quite some time, and he is a true winner in the eyes of the management. It seems like it would be quite disappointing to see another tick in the loss column. Kyle Solomon: Are you tellin' me to take the fall? Tre Coleman: Oh, no no no...what I'm saying is...uh...make this an interesting match-up, ok? I'm looking forward to it. Later man. [Solomon looks on as Coleman leaves his locker room, then turns around and runs his hand through his hair as the camera fades out.] [Commercials] ["Hit or Miss" by A New Found Glory hits the speakers as Kyle "The Mark" Solomon angrily steps out from the back whipping the entranceway curtains behind him. With microphone in hand, The Mark is clad in red modrobes and a wifebeater, with the SWF title slung over his right shoulder. He takes the SWF title and thrusts it in the air proudly as the fans cheer in unison for their representative in the HWF. The cheers die down as Solomon keeps the stone cold look on his face and brings the mic in his left hand slowly up to his mouth] Solomon: It seems as though The Mark has a bit of explaining to do. Jeff: You're damn right you do ya fraud... Solomon: It seems as though Kyle Solomon has to explain something to Silky Palms. So Silky, take your adoring attention away from the women and half-naked men of your next vignette and pay attention to the Mark when he says this: Kyle Solomon is the SWF Champion, for now and forever more. True, you were champion when the SWF shut down, but once the doors of that federation became officially shut, the title went back into the hands of it's rightful owners: The fans. [cheering roars from the crowd in approval of the words of Solomon, then the arena dies down] Solomon: So when you had the absolute GAUL to come out here on Saturday Suicide just a few weeks ago proclaiming YOURSELF as SWF Champion... [Booing throughout the stadium in disapproval of Silky Palms] Solomon: Well needless to say, the fans were disapproving of this. After the title went back to the fans, it became up to THEM, NOT YOU to decide upon the first champion for their title in it's appearance in the HWF would be. They needed someone with charisma, who wasn't afraid to strike and put on a show for them. They needed a man with wit and raw talent: someone who would fight for them and not just for a win. Someone who'd put it all on the line just for the cheers of fans everywhere. Solomon: They needed the only man that could take down and shut up Silky Palms Solomon: They needed a hero Solomon: They needed Kyle Solomon. [cheers again from the crowd in agreement to the words of Solomon, dying down after Solomon begins to speak once again] Solomon: So, fans of the HWF! I stand before you in question, to verify once and for all! Am I your champion!? [cheering erupts throughout Philips Arena in support of Kyle Solomon as their SWF champion in the HWF] Solomon: Well then, as long as we're all in agreement, it will be an honour to serve as your champion! Which brings the Mark to his next order of business: that business pertaining to the character of Simon J Rykopathe. Now the Mark says "character" because Simon J Rykopathe is not a real person. No fans, he's a character, as in a movie. He preforms stunts to fool you, the fans into cheering for him. Well be fooled no more ladies and gentlemen. Solomon: Rykopathe, your suicidal act for you as a fool-proof plan to get the fans behind you. They are as I have stated: mere failed attempts at suicide, to escape from your meaningless life. Solomon: If you fail; the it looks like you fought the good figbht, giving the fans what they wanted to see. Well the wool wasn't pulled down over the eyes of Solomon, Rykopathe. No, rather, I see you for what you really are. You don't perform your death defying stunts for the fans: You do them for yourself. Solomon: You do it for the win, for the glory, for the fame and the money... none of these are acceptable reasons in the book of Solomon. [Solomon turns to face the curtain as he walks backwards towards the ring, waiting for Rykopathe to burst from the back while reaching out to slap the hands of his fans] Solomon: And if you succeed in killing yourself and thus releasing yourself from the pain of a pointless life; You commit the most selfish crime of all: Suicide. Taking your life when you know FULL WELL that when you signed your contract to the HWF that you signed your life over to the FANS. It stopped becoming your life to take away when you signed that contract. This week... it became MINE to take away. [Solomon slides into the ring and stands in the middle of it and continues on] Solomon: MINE to do with as I please, to mame, to cripple, to end. You used to be the favourite of the fans... their ICON... no more. The fans have chosen a new representative; a new champion... and you're looking at him right now. Solomon: J Simon Rykopathe, come on down. Your successor awaits... and so does your end. In the next, and perhaps the last, minutes of your life, you are mine to do with as I please. Shall Kyle Solomon drag it out and force you to cry out in desperation for your life, only to take it from you in the end? Or shall he end it quickly and put you
Solomon: Choices, choices [The crowd screams out in unison for Solomon until 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 sits on the top turnbuckle.] Tim: Here's J. Simon Rykopathe, who should be feeling the effects of what Gavin Coens did to him last week on Suicide. Jeff: Just say it. The Icon got fucked up, plain and simple. Tim: Whatever Jeff... Regular Match [The bell rings as Solomon and Rykopathe circle the ring once. Solomon finally charges at Rykopathe, first putting him in a grinding head lock. Rykopathe spins out of it, then grabs Solomon's arm and hits a Firemans Carry on him. Solomon goes over Rykopathe's shoulders but lands on his feet, then grabs the back of Rykopathe's neck and hits a sudden Diving Reverse DDT on him. Solomon goes for the cover early on...] [One, two, t-Shoulder up!] Tim: Barely a three count there, but still quite early on. Jeff: I think this match'll get pretty violent soon...y'know, MY kinda match, heheheh... [Rykopathe rolls out of the ring and stands up, then motions for Solomon to follow him. Solomon nods, then slides out of the ring on the other side. Rykopathe runs around the side of the ring and then starts to uncontrollably punch at Solomon, repeatedly hitting him in the face. Solomon backs into the barricade, then bends down and sends Rykopathe flying over the barricade into the crowd. Solomon turns and follows him, and the two start to brawl through the crowd. Rykopathe backs Solomon into the barricade right behind the announcer's table, then hits a sudden facebuster on Solomon. Rykopathe then grabs a beer bottle from one of the fans and braks it across the barricade, with most of it splashing on Jeff Robinson. Jeff screams loudly as Solomon starts to back up, and Rykopathe chases him with the jagged end of the broken beer bottle.] Jeff: Sunuvadirtyfuckingcrackwhore!!! Tim: (struggling to keep back from laughing) Need a towel, Jeff? Jeff: Fuck you, Miller. Tim: Well, there are more important matters at hand...that psychopath over there is chasing Kyle Solomon with a jagged beer bottle! [Rykopathe finally catches up with Solomon, who turns around and knees Rykopathe in the stomach. Rykopathe bends over and grabs his midsection as Solomon proceeds to underhook Rykopathe's arms. Solomon then picks Rykopathe up in that same hold, and then brings him back down with some sort of Pedigree/Jumping Piledriver combo, landing on on vacated chair in the crowd!!!] Tim: My God, did you see that!? Solomon just plopped Rykopathe down on that chair like he was nothing! Jeff: Payback is a bitch...then again, I'm sure Rykopathe didn't mean to or anything... Tim: (sarcastically) Oh yeah, Rykopathe is just the nicest guy in the world...of course he wouldn't mean to splash you with beer, Jeff, now what kinda crazy talk is that!? Jeff: I'm glad you see what I mean, Tim. [Rykopathe is bleeding from his forehead, as Solomon gets to his feet slowly. Solomon picks Rykopathe up and starts to lead him to the barricade, but Rykopathe stops him, then hits a Firemans Carry swung into a DDT, all done within a second! Solomon hits the concrete hard, obviously not ready for the move. Rykopathe picks Solomon back up, then throws him over the barricade and jumps over himself. Solomon stays where he was thrown as Rykopathe starts digging under the ring, looking for any weapon. A few moments later, Rykopathe pulls 2 tables from under the ring, getting a big pop from the fans! Rykopathe sadistically smiles, then starts setting both tables up on top of each other as Solomon starts to get up.] Tim: Ohmygod, Rykopathe is crazy! Jeff: Here is the pinnacle of the match...Rykopathe never fails in entertaining my sick need to see people get hurt! Tim: Ugh... [Rykopathe walks over to Solomon, punching him a few times in the forehead. Solomon slumps back to the concrete floor, now also bleeding from his forehead and nose. Rykopathe goes back under the ring and digs around some more, then comes back up with two items that are not visible. Rykopathe sets them down, then walks over to Solomon who is still on the floor. Rykopathe picks Solomon up and puts him in a Canadian Backbreaker Rack, then brings him over to the tables that are set up and sets him down on the top one. Rykopathe then bends over and grabs one of the items he dug out freom the ring, which is now visible as barbed wire. Rykopathe starts to tie it around Solomon, attatching him to the tables! The crowd starts to get loud as Rykopathe then jumps onto the apron and pulls out from his pocket the other thing he got from underneath the ring...] Jeff: A lighter... Tim: Gah! Rykopathe is going out of the line with this one! What is the bastard thinking!? Jeff: It's a nice lighter too... Tim: Can you be serious for once!? [Rykopathe smiles, then sets the bottom table on fire! Solomon starts to squirm, trying to get out of the barbed wire. Rykopathe then backs into the ring, and bounces off the far ropes. Rykopathe leaps over the ropes, flipping in the air and hitting a splash on Solomon and the tables! The fire starts to burn both men's skin as the crowd goes completely nuts!] Tim: Someone get the crew out here! Both men are frying! Jeff: The bastard has done one of the most crazy things he's ever done, and no one can do anything about it cuz it's a No-DQ match! This is fucking nuts!!! [Both men lie in the fire, when finally Rykopathe rolls out of it and grabs a fire extinguisher from under the ring. He extinguishes both the fire on him and the fire that was still frying Solomon, and Rykopathe falls over onto the broken pieces of the table. Solomon somehow rolls off of the broken tables, and slides in the ring slowly. Solomon lies in the ring as Rykopathe climbs up onto the apron, then flips over the ropes and lands on Solomon's stomach.] [One, two, three!!!] Tim: What!? I don't think Rykopathe even planned that to be a pin! Jeff: Eh, both guys are half dead, it's for their own good. Tim: The first pin of this match turns out to be it's last, as J. Simon Rykopathe defeats Kyle "The Mark" Solomon in a...well...violent manner. [Phoenix is now running around on the main level, still in pursuit of JD Brady. Phoenix goes back to his locker room to think. You see a door that says "Anti-Heroes" on it, which Phoenix opens to find the Anti-Heroes....wait, those are the Anti-Heroes, they are more look-a-likes! Phoenix looks at all of them and can't say anything. There is a fake Rykopathe, fake Williams, and a fake Lost Soul. The three are all around each other, and the fake Rykopathe and fake Williams were kissing when Phoenix came in! Phoenix is lost for words, even though he knows they are fakes.] Crew member: Phoenix, you're up next! [Phoenix throws down the fake and turns to exit the locker room as we go to commercial.] [Commercial] ["Close the Door" by Prong hits the speakers and a chorus of boos begins in the arena. After a few seconds, Phoenix bursts through the curtains wearing his torn black corduroy shorts and a black, Lasek "SHXT" t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He quickly walks to the front of the stage with a newfound rage in his step. He doesn't even pause at the front of the stage and continues down to the ring. Phoenix wastes no time sliding into the ring under the bottom rope. He walks over to the other side of the ring and yells at a ring attendant to hand him a mic. When he gets one, he walks back over to the other side of the ring, leans on the ropes and talks.] Phoenix: Cut the music. Now Brady, what the hell is going on? So you're the new prankster around here. So you're now this new fan favorite. But where in there does it include attacking me in the back? If you want a shot at my belt, just tell me. I haven't backed down to giving you a chance to beat my ass before, and I wasn't about to now. If you wanted that belt, you get your ass down to the ring and spill my blood like you've done so many times before. Hell, you've relived some of your past moments in the history Phoenix ass kicking this week, so why didn't you try it again? Sooner or later, you were bound to beat me. You nearly threw me off that scaffold and you nearly picked up a pin inside the Death From Above cage, so why did you resort to this bullshit? I'll give you credit, making me chase all these fake you's all over the arena, you really made me look like a complete ass. [Pop from the fans.] Phoenix: But that's it. How many times do you need to come out here and split me open, make me bleed, make me leave parts of my flesh in various arenas all over this country? How many times do you need to prove to yourself that you can fail? You've done so much ungodly shit to me these past few months and I don't see it stopping anytime soon. You've punctured my skin thousands of times with tacks, slashed me to the bone with light tubes, and you've torn me up with barbed wire. And now, there is no telling what you will do to me tonight because just like before, I'm in for one hell of a night of punishment. But no matter how many times you rake me open with the chain link walls of this cell, no matter how far or how many times you throw me off of it, one thing you won't be doing is putting me through this glass. Now get your ass out here so we can end this once and for all. [Phoenix throws the mic down and just starts staring back up at the top of the ramp with a look of hatred on his face. After a few seconds, he begins to pace back and forth waiting for Brady.] Tim: Phoenix is ready for a fight! Hardcore Title - Shattered Dreams Match ["Original Prankster" hits the PA as the fans rise to their feet, cheering for Brady. J.D. Brady steps out from behind the curtains, with Phoenix's Hardcore title around his waist. Brady is smirking like only he can as Phoenix runs up the aisle after him. The cell is slowly coming to the floor as the two men are in a full blown knock down, drag out punching fight.] Jeff: Look at `em go! [Phoenix has J.D. by the hair, dragging Brady to the ring -now enclosed with the cell. Phoenix throws Brady face first into the steel mesh of the cell, then grabs him and grinds his face into it. Brady swiftly lifts his leg up connecting with the huevos of Phoenix. Phoenix is forced to quit his assault, holding himself like Michael Jackson - except without the whole pervert thing - and stumbling around. J.D. gets his composure and rushes at Phoenix, clobbering him with a clothesline that knocks the Hardcore champ back into the steel guard rail.] Tim: Phoenix's head bounced off the rail! Jeff: Brady is pulling him right back up, though. [As said, Phoenix is back to his feet with the help of Brady. J.D. grabs Phoenix by the arm and aims him just right, then whips him into the cell. Phoenix's shoulder hits the vertical beam of the doorway, making a loud cracking sound as he falls into the doorway, onto the ring mats. Brady comes into the cell and reaches under the ring, bringing out a steel chair. The crowd gets a rise out of this, while Phoenix just gets the steel across his back! The loud smack of steel on flesh echoes through the bowels of the Philips Arena, followed by an "Oh!" bellowed from the thousands of Atlanta fans.] Tim: Good God, did you hear that shot!? Jeff: People in Louisiana could hear that shot, for Christ's Sake! [J.D. raises the chair above his head, then lets it fall -with added force- onto the shoulder of Phoenix! Phoenix curls into a ball, really shaken up by the shots. Brady slides the chair into the ring, sliding across the mat of glass until it comes to a stop in mid-ring. Brady then grabs Phoenix by the shirt and rolls him into the ring, following behind him. Brady plants a boot into the chest of Phoenix, before dropping an elbow into the same place.] Tim: J.D. Brady has definite control of Phoenix. [Brady gets to his feet and pulls Phoenix up. Phoenix is whipped across the ring into the ropes. Brady goes for a standing side kick but Phoenix ducks and wraps his arms around the waist of JD. JD swings an elbow back but Phoenix moves his head. Phoenix picks Brady up in a gutwrench, then spins around and plants Brady to the glass with a German suplex!] Jeff: Phoenix is fighting back! [Phoenix gets to his feet and grabs the leg of the chair, pulling it off the glass. J.D. is slowly getting up and turns around into a wailing chair shot! Brady falls straight back to the glass, while Phoenix walks nearer to J.D. Phoenix then jumps into the air, placing the chair underneath both legs, then comes down with a double leg drop across Brady's chest with the aid of the chair! Phoenix rolls out of the ring, then lifts up the ring curtain. Phoenix pulls out a table to the delight of the crowd.] Jeff: These people don't care who goes through a table, do they? Tim: No, not really... It doesn't matter if they cheer you or boo you, tables make you a favorite. [Phoenix slides the table into the ring, then slides in beside it. He stands and turns it onto its side, opening one leg at a time. Phoenix then flips the table over onto its legs and scoots it into about mid-ring. Phoenix grabs JD by the shirt and pulls him up, then rolls him onto the table.] Tim: This could get dangerous very quick! [Phoenix strides across the ring and steps through the ropes to the apron. He climbs up the turnbuckle and reaches the top rope, then slowly stands, keeping his balance. Phoenix then leaps off and spreads his arms for a big splash. Brady rolls off of the table, as Phoenix goes crashing through the table!!] Jeff: "The Original Prankster" got out of the way!! Tim: Phoenix is hurting, now! [Brady is quick to capitalize and grabs Phoenix by the collar. He drags Phoenix up and whips him to the ropes. Brady grabs a hold of Phoenix's shirt and waist, tossing him over the top rope - into the side of the cell! Phoenix slides down the mesh which grabs and catches at his clothes and skin.] Jeff: Phoenix went into that cell hard... [Brady walks to the ropes while Phoenix slowly gets to his feet. Brady grabs the top rope and catapults himself onto his opponent, sending both men falling out of the cell's doorway.] Tim: They're outside the cell and it's always chaos out there! [JD takes Phoenix by the head and goes to slam him into the cell but Phoenix places his foot against the steel to block it. Phoenix instead slams Brady into the mesh face first! Before Brady can rest, Phoenix applies a front chancery and connects with a rocket fast snap suplex onto the cement floor!] Jeff: What a snap suplex! [Phoenix gets to his feet and grabs the chain link cell, the crowd rises and cheers. Phoenix begins to climb, making an ascent up the cell!] Tim: NO! Get down from there! This is gonna end in a bad way... Jeff: GREAT! [As Phoenix crawls onto the roof of the cell, JD Brady has gotten up and sees Phoenix. He is more than happy to meet his opponent on the cell roof, as he too starts a climb on the cell wall.] Tim: Oh, no.. This can't be good. Jeff: Shut up, Tim! [JD reaches the top and rolls onto the cell, just as Phoenix drops a leg across his throat. Phoenix drags Brady up and attempts a suplex, but Brady blocks it. JD picks Phoenix up in a suplex of his own, then allows him to fall forward with an X-Factor on the cell roof!] Tim: What a move from JD Brady on the cell! [Brady picks Phoenix up into a standing head scissors. JD tries to pick Phoenix up for a piledriver on the cell, but Phoenix blocks it and connects with a low blow! Phoenix gets up and swings JD around into a reverse chancery. Phoenix picks JD up then drops him with an inverted implant DDT!! The cell roof gives way, sending the two men plummeting to the glass mat!! The horrific sound of glass shattering because of human bodies echoes through the arena.] Jeff: OH MY GOD!!! [HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!] [The bell sounds, signaling the victory for Phoenix.] Tim: Phoenix has retained title, but at what cost?! [Moments pass while "Close the Door" plays on the PA system. Finally, Phoenix brings his body up out of the whole in the glass, slowly rolling across the remaining mat. His shirt is ripped to shreds, revealing a bloodied back. Phoenix grabs his Hardcore title, beginning to hobble his way out of the cell. JD Brady suddenly appears from the whole, his entire face a bloody mess. He crawls out of the glass and across the mat. Brady gets out of the ring and runs up the aisle after Phoenix.] Tim: Look out! [Brady nails Phoenix with a forearm to the head. Phoenix falls face first to the aisle, just enough time for JD to grab the Hardcore title. Brady takes the title and rushes up the aisle, disappearing through the curtains. Phoenix is getting back up, facing the entranceway. He curses and gets up as the show goes to commercial.] Tim: Aaaaand, it's MAIN EVENT TIME-O! Jeff: Woohoo, it's going to be the "Greatest" match of the night....no pun intended! Tim: Lay off it tonight man. Jeff: Oh, okay then, well in the following "Greatest" matchup, it's going to be all over a simple bet. Storm put up 50 grand, thus Sterling put up 50 grand making this a winner takes all match. Tim: How's this going to work anyway, Ladder match? Jeff: Nope, the money will be sittin' over there with Joey and Bull. [Suddenly the PA's spark up... #Fortune fame #Mirror vain #Gone insane #But the memory remains As "Memory Remains" by Metallica blasts from the P.A. system the crowd explodes into cheers, and most start to sing along. Silver and gold strobe lights begins to flash around the arena as Lance Sterling walks out from the curtain. He's wearing long black and gold tights with his trademark slogan "I am the greatest!" emblazoned on the front. Black elbowpads, white wristbands, and black boots complete his ring attire and obviously flashing his HWF World Title over his shoulder. Sterling pauses on in front of the curtains for a couple of seconds before slowly walking down the ramp and around the ring, flashing his smile and interacting with the fans at ringside. He climbs into the ring and climbs the upper right-hand turnbuckle, raising both his hands in the air and getting a huge pop from the crowd. As he gets down from the turnbuckle, the music dies down as he grabs a mic from the ring attendant.] Sterling: Cut the music! Now, last week this nobody, Jonathan Storm, had the balls to come out here and not only interupt my interview, but also to lay down a challenge. Of course, I accepted. Storm, just what makes you think you're good? What have you accomplished here that puts you in the same league as me? NOTHING. You haven't done a damn thing worthy of praise, yet you walk around like you're..well like you're me. Well that's gonna end right here and now. I agreed to this little challenge so I can do two things: First, so I can humiliate your punk ass right in front of all these people. And number two, so I can show you that while you may talk the talk, you can't walk the walk against the greatest wrestler on God's green earth. So, get the hell out here, and let's settle this challenge once and for all. [The lights dim in the arena as the beginning chords of "Simon Says" by Drain STH begin to play. As the song begins to hit the heavy part, two blasts of pyrotechnics shoot up from the side of the stage as Jonathan Storm is raised from a rotating, rising platform sporting his precious HWF "Scientific" title and a mic. He steps out and surveys the crowd, grinning, as he walks down to the ring. ] Storm: Settle it? You're damn right we're gonna settle it. Sterling, you've been nothing but a coward since I came to the HWF. Finally you got the guts to accept a challenge, after what, a couple months? Gee, you're some great wrestler, aren't you? Tonight, I'm going to expose you for being the fraud you are. Everybody's gonna see that Lance Sterling isn't the greatest, the greatest is Jonathan Storm! You don't get it, nobody came here to see Lance Sterling, they came here to see me expose you for a joke on national television! Sterling: Storm, you talk too goddamn much. I agreed to this challenge so we can find out who IS the best. So, let's see who's the best. Come on, or are you chicken? [Storm, by this time has walked around to the timekeeper, he chucks his Title and mic to Joey, and slides in, where a staredown ensues.] $100,000 Challenge Match Jeff: Common Sterling, punch him in the nose! Tim: Speaking of "nose's".... [Sterling and Storm go nose to nose, where Sterling looks slightly down at the shorter Storm. Suddenly Sterling swings a wild righty as the crowd errupt. Storm blocks it with his left, rolls it over and hooks it under his left arm pit, he then digs his head down and drops him back over with a varient of a Back Body Drop w/ Arm Lock. Sterling slides across and is instantly to his feet, as Storm sneers and hits a Sterling-imitation pose as the crowd boos. Sterling runs in and the two lock up, Storm tries to use Sterlings momentrum with a hip toss, but Sterling hangs on and continues with the momentum, Hip-Throwing him over as Storm is back to his feet. Sterling stands again, stare down, and Lance hits the Sterling-Silver Smile he's famous for.] Tim: Um, what was that I just seen? Jeff: A smile? Tim: No, I think I just saw technical wrestling from Sterling! Jeff: YOU IDIOT. Sterling is the greatest, he can do it all, with all, he OWNS all. [Storm seems to get slightly enraged that he, the Scientific Champ just got out scientized, and runs in swinging a wild clothesline. Sterling counters with a perfect arm drag over, into an arm bar submission. Storm squirms around for a minute, before rolling up and over, turning it into a Chicken-Wing Submission on Sterling. Sterling, face first into the mat, rolls over and out before doing a Arm Whip varient of the Dragon Leg Screw, putting Storm onto his face. Sterling then lets go, and slides up onto a back mount, before holding Storm captive with a Chin Lock.] Tim: I'll give him credit, he's out Scientificisizing the Scientific One. [Storm can't get out, with Sterling on his back, so, he starts to try and power out. Moments pass, as Storm finally get's to his feet, piggy-backing Sterling, before snap-maring Sterling off his shoulders, and grabbing Lance in a rear-chin lock of his own. This doesn't really seem to affect Sterling as Sterling moves the chin-lock into a head-lock, and then powers out with a spinning back-drop. But Storm is right back to his feet.] Jeff: Um, Lance, your boring me for once. Hit him with a chair or something, please, no more technical wrestling or I'm gunna bleed internally to death. Tim: Shut up, this is the greatest match I've seen in the HWF. And I really don't like either man. [The crowd, basically silent for the whole match, suddenly errupt as for some reason Storm rolls backwards out between the top-and bottom ropes and yoinks a Chair from a ring-crew man, and throws it in the ring.] Jeff: Oh hail Storm! [Storm hops up on the apron, as Sterling comes across, only to be dropped across the top rope with a Guillotine Drop, Sterling instantly flys back, holding his throat, as Storm slides in and lays a few kicks on Sterling. Storm then grabs the chair, and pry's it in between the bottom and middle turnbuckles. Storm picks Sterling up, and whips him into the ropes, on the return, drops him with a clothesline. Sterling gets up and stumbles back to the chair-corner for a rest. Storm walks over, and grabs Sterling, and begins to irish-whip him into the opposite far corner, mid whip however, he spins Sterling RIGHT BACK AROUND like a human hammerball, before slipping into a drop toe hold, and sending Sterling face first down into the chair in one full motion.] Tim: Okay Jeff, is that the sorta stuff you want to see? Jeff: DAMN YOU TIM, if only the roles were reversed. [Storm smiles at his act of violence, before picking Sterling back up. Storm arm-wrenches Sterling, and again, putting Sterling down on one knee...] Jeff: What was that? Tim: An Arm-wrench... Jeff: An Arm-whatty? Tim: A-N A-R-M W-R-E-N-C-H Jeff: Whoa, that sounds difficult to me, I never knew such moves existed. What happend to the good 'ol days of Flying Body Splashes while on Fire and Piledrivers through tables, oooh don't foget DDT's onto C4 Wired Chair. Tim: Oh my Jeff, [sarcastically] This is the future, the future of real wrestling. [Sterling, drops down on two knees, then forward rolls over, on-wrenching the arm he then brings his other arm over, and turns, flipping Storm over with both arms. Sterling slides out of the ring, and searches under the ring apron. Throwing in a few weapons of mass destruction - namely, a few cookie sheets, a bag of fairy floss....] Jeff: FAIRY FUCKING FLOSS?! What the hell has the HWF come too? [...a garbage can 'o crumpling doom, and then, another can full of goodies, a ladder, and two tables.] Tim: This match is going to get ugly, fast. [But, the ref, just as quick as Sterling throws 'em in, chucks them back out. DQ is enabled, and the weapons are not in use. Sterling looks pissed, but aware, and slides up onto the apron, then runs up to the top turnbuckle. Instantly, Jon is to his feet, he runs over and dropkicks the top rope, sending Sterling down onto his jewels of gold. Storm then scales up to Sterling and superplexes him off the turnbuckle while landing and rolling backwards into a floatover pinfall. The pin is then isntantly cradeled over into a Mahistrol Cradle type pin....] [One....] [...then rolled back over in Storm's favor] [One...] [...before Sterling switches over and pins him in a Jacknife Pin....] [One....T....] [.....and Storm rolls that over into a Elevated Boston Crab.....which Sterling slides his head back out for safety.....and Storm drops back, Slingshotting Sterling across the ring, face first into the top turnbuckle. As Sterling stumbles backwards, Storm rolls backwards supporting himself on his upperback, he then hooks his legs up and rolls Sterling backwards into a (after sit-down powerbomb style) pin....] [One....Two....Kickout...] [Sterling get's to his feet like a flash, and levels Storm with a clothesline that flips Storm over onto his stomach, just as Storm gets to his feet. Sterling lands a quick legdrop, before scaling to the top of the turnbuckle and givin' a thumbs up to the auidience.] Jeff: Could it be.... Tim: We havn't seen this move for months... [Instead of the memorable "Sterling Shooting Star Press", Sterling turns around, face back to Jon. He then moonsaults, althought not a patch on Trey, actually more like a Lita Moonsault compared to Trey's "Rios" moonsault....but Jon pulls the ref in the way causing Sterlings legs to knock the ref out, and himself land awkwardly on his face.] Tim: Now that WASN'T scientific. Jeff: He's "Academy Award" winning preformance was shattered, nooooooo, by a measly little runt like Storm. [Storm gets to his feet as Sterling somehow slowly, rises, mainly on instinct. Storm does the 'ol "Come-On" pose, as Sterling dazilly turns around, as Storm rolls Sterling over into a Rolling Half Crab in the MIDDLE OF THE RING!] Tim: IT'S OVER, STORM'S WON THIS ONE! [The agony on Sterling's face is shown, as he struggles close to the ropes, but just as he get's close, Storm pulls him away.....] [TAP...TAP....TAP] Jeff: NOOOOOOO! Tim: The ref's out, Storm STILL hasn't won the match. [Storm doesn't realise this, and let's the hold go, as he slides out to the outside, and grabs the title and money, and slides back in, kicking Sterling who is holding his thigh muscle, and raises it in a Stone Cold Turnbuckle pose to the rabid and booing fans. Storm does the 3 of the four corner, before stepping over a fallen Sterling, on the fourth however, Sterling snaps and gets to his feet, the crowd start to errupt, and Storm looks shocked, he drops from the turnbuckle, and turns.....WHAM....] Jeff: HOLLYWOOD HANGOVER! HOLLYWOOD HANGOVER! [Storm goes flying back into the corner, as his title and the money fly over the ropes to the outside, the impact of the Superkick bounces Storm forward, as Sterling grabs him and Sterling-Plex's Storm on his back. From the Northern Lights Bridge, Sterling doesn't go for the pin, he instead, continues to roll over and thus ending near the legs of Storm. Sterling is quick to grab the legs of Storm and twist them up into the dreaded Reverse Figure 4 Leglock.] Jeff: HOLLYWOOD AND VINE! HOLLYWOOD AND VINE! Tim: Can you stop shouting HOLLYWOOD all the time? Jeff: STERLING'S GUNNA WIN IT! IT'S IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! Tim: Can someone call an ambulence, either Jeff's gunna have a heartattack or I'm gunna go deaf. [Storm's writhing around in pain, pulling his hair, doing anything to elivate the immense agony. Sterling then bridges back, in a very painfull look as....] [TAP...TAP....TAP...] Jeff: HE TAPPED OUT! IT'S OVER IT'S OVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER! Tim: You imBiscile, the ref is still out. Jeff: Goddamnit. Tim: You could call that, One Fall Each, if this was a Two-Out-of-Three falls matchup. [Sterling realises what's happened, and let's go, not before giving a kick to the diaphram of Storm. He then walks over to check on the fallen referee.] Jeff: GODAMN, get someone from the back! [The ref starts to stir, only slightly, as Storm also starts to stir. Sterling by now is frustratlingly shaking the ref like he was Bart Simpson and Sterling was Homer. Storm's right to his feet now, and taps Sterling on the shoulder, who "Shoo's" him away like a fly. Storm then does it again, as Sterling get's pissed and snaps around, as Storm grabs him in a front unarage/chinlock and jumps up, before hitting a kneeling position and driving Sterling's jaw across his shoulder in a wicked Franchizer....] Tim: Pop Perfection, that's gotta be it.... Jeff: NOOOO! It's not supposed to end like this. [Sterling drops down, flat on his back, as Storm drops down for the pin. He grabs the ref's hand and makes an asistant count as the ref is still down....] [One...Two...Thre....] Jeff: STERLING KICKED OUT!!! Tim: That's amazing.... Jeff: He's my hero! Tim: This has been one of the greatest close matches I've read, neither man can out-do the other! [Storm nearly starts to cry, as he sits in a kneeling position, grabbing his hair and yelling. Storm then faces the turnbuckle, and looks back behind him at Sterling who's still on his back. Storm then springs up and bounces off the top turnbuckle, before spinning around, froggy splashing and rolling over into a Swanton Bomb slamming straight onto.....] Jeff: STERLING ROLLED AWAY! Tim: He missed the Anaheim Aftershock, that's his move, and he missed it! [....his back...THUD. Sterling, now as the ref is up, drops down for an instant quick cover...] [One....Two....Three....] Jeff: YESSSSSSSSSSSS! Tim: Ooooh, the ref says it's only a two count! Jeff: Noooooooooooooo! God damnit, sooo close. [Sterling pleads his case to the referee, almost demanding it be made into a three count. But turns to lay some more smack onto Storm's body. Storm scurries away while Sterling turns again to the ref, and boosts himself up on the top ropes. Sterling desparishes the besmirched ref again with some verbal language and finger pointing, before turning to spot a groggy Storm back against the ropes. Sterling runs and attempts a clothesline, but Storm reverses it, backdropping Sterling over the ropes to the floor.] Crowd: Ooooooh. [Storm staggers around the ring, but after regaining "it" he rolls out to Sterling who's on the floor besides the announcers table. Then, from the back, comes a man with a chair, still slightly smarting from his match earlier in the night - J.Simon Rykopathe. Ryko sneaks down, finger pressed against lips, before sliding in behind the distracted referee. He sets the chair up, before pulling the surprised referee up in a backdrop, and spinning it around into a powerbomb sending the ref - neckfirst "through" the chair......Ryko quickly rolls back out to where he came from, as the ref lays flat on his back, sprwaled out, as Ryko hides peeping across the apron to where Storm stomps on Sterling.] Tim: Uh, what was the point of that? Jeff: I actually agree, seems like Ryko's totally loosing it. Tim: I think he's One Step Closer to the.....end. Jeff: He's really not The ICON anymore, is he? Tim: Nope, far from it. [Storm then rolls Sterling up onto the table that's now clear of all monitors and sharp objects. He then points to his chest, ala RVD, before pulling Sterling up to his feet. A second wind hits Sterlings sails, as seeminly out of a dangerous predickament, Sterling comes a-blazing with fists of fury onto Storms melon. Storm starts to get closer and closer to the edge (AND I'M ABOUT TO BREAK!) of the table before ducking a Sterling huge-haymaker and swings around behind Sterling. Sterling then in one motion, spins and swings a huge clothesline the Storm blocks with his left hand and converts, with the momentum, into a Reverse Russian Legsweep, sending them both through the table.] Tim: SUDDEN IM.....[frizzle] Jeff: [silence] Tim: [silence] [As Tim and Jeff's head-gear frizzle away, as the Sudden Impact by Jon Storm probably took out their wires, Sterling and Storm lay motionless in the ring. The match isn't called a DQ however, as the ref's down. You then can see Ryko smile, as his plan seemed to work. Ryko runs around to where Sterling and Storm are, and re-lays their downed carcasses out with extremely cheep chair shots to the ribs and again to the ribs with the boos of the crowd playing the chorus of the song. He then walks around, and picks the bag of $100,000 and Jon's Scientific Title before cheering to the crowd, who in return continue to boo, and throw things at him, a Lance Sterling action figure nearly htiting Ryko in the head. Ryko flips the crowd off, and walks up the ramp, before turning around and waiting. He then breaks into an arrogant laugh, which'd make Chris Ben-wah happy. The camera then switches to the carnage of where Sterling and Storm lie, Storm is out cold, but Sterling has staggered to his feet. He then looks across, under the bottom rope, across the ring, under the far bottom rope and dead in the eye of one J.Simon Rykopathe, who continues his laughing, and even has the gall to give him an 'ole crotch chop. The camera then switches back to the face of Storm, then to Sterling again, who's now red in the face, veins buldging and eyes puffing as suddenly, Suicide comes to a close.] [All of a sudden "The World is Not Enough" by Garbage plays and you see Claire walking down to the ring - unaccompanied by anyone except for something she has clenched in her right hand. She is carrying a microphone in her left hand. Her slender 5'5" - 104 pound frame and beautiful looks - coming down in a very sexy looking short brown shirt and a midriff cut off that showed her bellybutton and the tattoos she has on her arms. She slowly climbs between the top and bottom rope - and walks around the ring getting a huge pop from all of the fans - women who want to be her and the men who want to be inside her - many catcalls and the like are shouted up but they are all silenced when she puts the microphone up to her lips.] Claire: Lost Soul.. you have plagued me and my soon to be husband - Michael Trey - too long now. You have kept us apart from the love that w as meant to be - you tried to stop destiny - you tried to stop something that was written up in the stars! Even you cannot deny the stars Lost Soul - but as you have been proving in the HWF since your return - you can't do much of anything except talk a lot of shit and pick on the weak and helpless. You have just been a drain on the federation since you came back - ever since you were "resurrected" - watching tapes of your matches before and watching you now - something is different - there is something lacking in you. You are not the same person you were back then - then you had a hunger - you had a desire - the desire that people like Michael Trey has - Lance Sterling has - J.D. Brady has - the desire that I HAVE to succeed and be someone in this world. You - you are just a pathetic nothing that just likes to talk. [She stops and lets this sink in to all of the people out there - dramatic pauses do something great for memory retention as well as give a couple more seconds to stare at her.] Claire: So - I am out here to prove to you that I can take care of myself - to prove that I am NOT one of those weak people that you have been picking on all of this time. Tim: Does she want a MATCH?! Jeff: NO WAY! The Lost Soul would KILL HER - just like he did that stupid ignorant driver earlier! Claire: I am not scared of you any longer you pig - you worthless piece of human flesh. You are the type of person that gives the rest of the good men out there a bad name. I'm not going to be some weak and helpless woman anymore - just a bystander. I'm going to show you just what I am made of - just how crafty and smart I can be - just how powerful I really am. I am going to show you something I found to be quite interesting - that I was able to pick up from our little "time" together. You see - you might have thought I was oblivious to your mannerisms - but I pick up things after spending such a long time with someone. Well - I found this interesting - I found this little thing in my hand on your desktop one day when you went out - the day I escaped. You left this behind. I saw you care for this so much - so much time and care you put into preserving this thing - and now you must be worried sick about it. Well. this.. gee. [Claire opens up her other hand and out comes a necklace on a silver chain - it's a seven-sided silver locket on a silver chair. It slowly swings back and forth in the air - almost at the exact time it takes a second to pass.] Tim: NO WAY! THAT IS THE LOST SOUL'S! SHE'S NOT LYING! I SAW IT ON HIM WHEN HE FIRST CAME BACK! TREY BETTER GET DOWN HERE FAST! Claire: And who is this in here - a woman with red hai - - [All of a sudden "Be Quiet and Drive" by The Deftones comes over the speakers - but The Lost Soul isn't waiting for anything. He is sprinting down the ring at full speed - his long red hair is still back in a ponytail and he's still in the wool pants - but he slides under the bottom rope almost halfway across the ring and grabs Claire's ankle before she can even move! The Lost Soul holds on and picks himself up - and grabs Claire by the neck and takes the microphone from her. His eyes are full of rage and hate - you can see the fire burning in them and straight through Claire.] The Lost Soul: You thought - you thought - YOU THOUGHT! I can't believe you actually thought that you were even going to prove anything by this little encounter Claire - what did you think was going to happen? Something magical where we all wind up being friends in the end? I come out here and bargain for this little locket? This piece of the past? What does the picture of the redheaded woman mean to you? What does the picture of the man with long brown hair - a wife - and a daughter mean to you? NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. SO why did you take it Claire - did you have all of this planned out from the very beginning? No - you didn't think I'd notice something oh so important missing! You didn't think that I would just do some things so you could pick up on them did you? Oh - ONE BIG FUCKING COINCIDENCE that I just HAPPENED to leave this locket right there when I "accidentally" kept your ropes loose wasn't it Claire? THINK ABOUT IT. Just think about it. You brought me right back to the one I really wanted - Trey. First I had to get him weak - I had to make him beg. Then I had to make him suffer. Then I had to make him DESIRE YOU AGAIN - I cultivated that mindset - I FORCED Michael Trey to look inwards to himself and sort out his won feelings. And it was ALL BECAUSE OF ME AND MY ACTIONS that now he REALLY LOVES YOU CLAIRE. Do you understand that? CLAIRE. HE LOVES YOU. HE REALLY FUCKING LOVES YOU CLAIRE. [The Lost Soul looks at Claire and she looks away - and The Lost Soul grabs her face and makes her stare straight at him] The Lost Soul: LISTEN TO ME. I KNOW. DON'T DO IT. Claire (She sounds like she is choking - as she IS being choked): Yes.. well.. you.. shouldn't.. hurt your.. family.. it's... dishonorable... and you.. should respect.. your dead.. [The Lost Soul suddenly lets go of Claire - and then has a crazed look in his eyes like he is about to do something drastic - but all of a sudden "The World is Not Enough" hits again and The Lost Soul grabs Claire around her neck and looks towards the front entrance.] The Lost Soul: I'LL CHOKE HER TO DEATH! COME OUT TREY! NOW! NOW YOU SON OF A BITCH! [The Lost Soul continues to stare at the entrance as the song plays on - but no Michael Trey. Then he looks as if he is going to say something more - but all of a sudden a spotlight goes up the rafters and MICHAEL TREY COMES FLYING DOWN WITH A SHOT TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD OF THE LOST SOUL FROM 30 FEET IN THE AIR! Trey picks The Lost Soul up to his knees - as he is bleeding a bit from the back of his head - winds up and SMASHES THE LOST SOUL'S FACE IN WITH THE CHAIR! THE LOST SOUL IS OUT - HIS NOSE IS BUSTED WIDE OPEN! Claire runs out of the ring and waits at ringside with the locket still in her hand. Trey however is under the ring apron and he pulls out - what else - a table. Then he pulls something out of his tights and smacks it underneath the table - and then takes off some of the tape he has around his wrists and places it under the table! He slides the table into the ring - and then goes back under for something else.] Tim: What else could he... Jeff: NO! NOT NOW! NOT THAT! THIS CAN'T HAPPEN TO A LEGEND!! NOT A SOUL-B-QUE!!! [Michael Trey pulls out a can of gasoline and a packet of matches from his pocket - and climbs in the ring with both of them in his hands! He sets them down and sets up the table - then he moves it into the right position. Trey then pours the lighter fluid all over the table and lights a match - as the crowd goes absolutely ballistic! Trey tosses the match on the table and instantly it becomes a FLAMING TABLE! Michael Trey then walks over to the still unconscious Lost Soul and picks him up and drags him over to the corner ring post. Trey sits himself on the top rung and drags The Lost Soul's slightly bigger body a bit upwards to the second post. He then - in one quick motion - signals to the crowd for a powerbomb. Trey motions - and the he flips The Lost Soul up - and DOWN THROUGH THE FLAMING TABLE! BUT AN EXPLOSION TAKES PLACE! THE TABLE EXPLODED AND THE LOST SOUL WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH THE MAT! STRAIGHT THROUGH THE RING CANVAS! The crowd starts to chant "Holy Shit" but I don't think that really suffices - but then the HWF chant BLARES THROUGH THE ARENA and Michael Trey smiles as sadistic a smile as you are going to get - and looks over at Claire.] Tim: HOLY SHIT! Errr.. YEAH! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Jeff: That was.. C4... on the table.. is The Lost Soul dead? Tim: It sure looks like it - NOTHING has moved from under the mat! [Claire comes into the ring and Trey is still perched on the top rope - and Claire comes up with him and they hug together and the crowd continues to chant "H-W-F" - but then all of a sudden "Be Quiet and Drive" by The Deftones starts to play over the entire P.A. - cutting EVERYTHING INTO A DEAD SILENCE. On the HWF-Tron the only thing you can see is backstage - and The Lost Soul - slowly making his way through the garage. His face is covered in nothing but blood - but he is holding his head high. All of his clothes are torn apart and burnt up - but hair is cut and is ACTUALLLY missing a big section of it on the right side - but you can't even really tell what other injuries there are. The Lost Soul is limping - along - but he is WALKING - and SMILING. And as he walks closer and closer to the camera - the smile gets bigger and bigger - and he slowly waves into the camera lens - then the feed shuts off.] Tim:.... what.. the .. he .. is alive? Jeff: I'm.. speechless. I don't know what else to say folks. We are out. [With the commentators, fans, not to mention - Michael Trey and Claire - completely stunned, the HWF logo flashes as the screen fades to black.] ©Hardcore Productions 2001™ |
