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February 3rd, 2001

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[6:57 pm | The Cam Henderson Center, Huntington West Virginia]

[The camera fades into the arena, as the second verse of "Last Resort" by Papa Roach blares throughout the speakers. The camera circles around the ring a bit, and then goes to Tim Miller and Jeff at ringside. Tim looks down at his format sheet slowly, as the music begins to fade out. Right as Tim is about to speak, you hear the ceremonious...]

#Fortune fame
#Mirror vain
#Gone insane

Crowd: BUT THE MEMORY REMAINS!!

[The crowd explodes into cheers as "Memory Remains" hits the PA system. Strobe lights start to flash as Lance Sterling walks into view. He's not yet in his ring attire, instead wearing a black "I am the greatest!" T-shirt and jeans. The HWF title is belted around his waist, and he has a microphone in his right hand. Slowly, he walks down towards the ring as the crowd sings the lyrics to the song. Sterling climbs into the ring and waits in the center as the music fades out.]

Sterling: You know, I'm getting really sick and tired of coming out here week after week, busting my ass for you people, and have a washed up piece of garbage like J. Simon Rykopathe stick his nose in my business. Let's face it, we all know full well that I had Jon Storm beaten in this very ring last week. Hell, I'll even go so far to say that I was just about ready to finish him off. But that didn't happen, and why? Because Rykopathe, who can't seem to get it into his head that he is NOTHING to me, had to make an appearance. Let's roll a clip of exactly what went down last week, shall we?

[Sterling points to the HWF-Tron, which begins to recap Rykopathe's interferance in last week's main event: 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. End clip]

Sterling: J. Simon Rykopathe is nothing but a common thief! Ryko, when will you learn that you won't get the better of me? All you do, week after goddamn week, is come out here, spout some BULLSHIT, and expect me to bow down to you. Well, it doesn't quite work that way. But I'm through trying to make a point to you, since you're too dense to listen. Instead, I'm gonna give you the beating you deserve. At Holiday Hangover 3, Rykopathe. You and me, HWF title on the fuckin' line. If that's the only way to get through to you, then I don't have much choice, do I?

Tim: He did it! He finally gave in! Sterling versus Rykopathe, at Holiday Hangover 3, for the HWF title!

Jeff: Sterling is finally going to show Rykopathe what for! And its about time, too!

Tim: Shut up.

Sterling: You like that, dont you Rykopathe? You've been doing nothing but crying about not getting a title shot; now you've got one. And Ryko, I guarentee that after Holiday Hangover 3, you will know once and for all that I..am the grea-

[Sterling is cut off as "Simon Says" by Drain STH cuts him off. A smirking Jonathan Storm steps out from the curtains, to a series of boos from the crowd. Storm pays no attention to them and instead walks towards the ring, his eyes focused directly on Sterling. Storm slides into the ring and grabs the microphone from Sterling.]

Storm: Settle down, Lance. Don't go doing anything that you might end up regretting, okay? I mean, you almost had ME beat? COME ON! Who are you kidding? Last I..ah forget it, I'm not out here to argue with you. You challenged Rykopathe, and lets face it, that's a hell of a match right there. BUT, what its missing is..[smirks] a SPECIAL..GUEST..REFEREE. Someone to make sure the match runs nice and smooth.. and so neither of you can pull any tricks you're famous for.

[Sterling glares at him and starts silently mouthing profanities. Storm returns the favor for a few seconds before turning back to face the capacity crowd]

Storm: Anyways, what it needs is an impartial referee. And, since I hate both you and Rykopathe equally..I'LL DO IT!

Tim: Storm's gonna be the guest referee?!? Jesus Christ!

Jeff: Noooo!!

[Sterling grabs the microphone back from Storm.]

Sterling: You wanna be the guest referee? Fine, be my fuckin' guest. But I'll make you a promise, Jonny-boy. If you fuck me over, you'll regret it. Remember how our last match ended with both of us layed out cold? You piss me off, and screw me over, and I'll see to it that you leave in a bodybag.

[Sterling throws the microphone down as his music comes onto the PA again. Ignoring Storm, he climbs the turnbuckle and raises both arms in the air, yelling out his trademark catchphrase. He looks back at Storm, and climbs out of the ring, walking slowly up the ramp, but ignoring the fans.]

Tim: This is unbelievable! Sterling and Rykopathe at Holiday Hangover.. and Jonathan Storm is the referee!

Jeff: And you heard THE MAN, if he screws him over, there'll be hell to pay!

Tim: I'm sure there will be..I just hope Sterling keeps his mind focused on his match TONIGHT. He and partner Michael Trey, the Xtreme Alliance, defend the tag titles against Teen Angst!

[They get a short shot of the ring, then back to Tim and Jeff.]

Tim: Alright, it looks like we're ready for our first match...

Jeff: And would ya look at this... look who had the nerve to show up at Suicide.

[The picture fades to the outside of the arena as Kyle Solomon steps out of his rental car, only to be met by Tony Bradshaw. Solomon, wearing 3/4 length black pants and a red "Boss of the Hot Sauce", wears an irritated look on his face as Tony approaches...]

Tony: Kyle, I, as well as the HWF would like to know what happened last Saturday Night. Plain and simple... we all know your style: How did you get beaten SO badly last week?

[Solomon gives Bradshaw a stare as he walks past him, mumbling "shut up Tony" as he walks away]

Bradshaw: Come on Kyle! The people have a right to know!

[Our picture fades back to Jeff and Tim]

Jeff: It's no secret Bradshaw! Ol' Kyle got his ass kicked plain and simple! He hit a move, then got plain raped. If Ryko wanted Solomon's anal virgini...

Tim: That's enough.

Jim: But...

Tim: Just no.

[The low electronic hum that begins the Lo-Fideltiy All-Stars "Battle Flag" wafts over the arena as the lights go out, but for a few blue strobes, flickering over the crowd in time. As the heavier beat kicks in, the blue spot light scans the entrance, and finds Tempest not at the top of the ramp, but off to the side walking down the railing like a tight rope. She grins and dances a little almost tipping as a few gasps are heard from the crowd. She smiles and holds up her arms to the ooos and aahs of the crowd and steps lightly along the railing, slapping hands as she goes. At the end she flips off the end and trots up the steps and doesn't stop as she scuttles up to the top turnbuckle and waves to then crowd.]

Tim: Here's-

Jeff: That damn chick again. Dammit.

[Lights go out and an alarm goes off buzzing as the screen lights up with a giant "C" on the left side, then a "K" on the right, followed by the Canadian Mask in the middle, which then rips in half as an explosion of red and while fireworks shoot up in a wall formation along the entrance. "Starseed" by Our Lady Peace then echoes throughout the arena and the "Canadian Kid" Kyle Corman stands emerges from the sea of red and white. Dressed in his black trench coat, lugz boots, and black oakleys, CK begins to walk straight down the aisle to a large pop of the crowd chanting "CK"! Kyle slides under the ring ropes and goes to the far corner and climbs it raising one fist in the air, he jumps back down and with one twirling motion, removes the trench coat, and then places the shades with them.]

Jeff: Here's Jeff Robinson's pick of the match, C-Kid Kyle Corman!

Tim: This should be an interesting match-up...

Jeff: Damn straight!

[Corman looks back to Tempest, who is still waving to the fans. Corman yells out at her, and she turns her attention to him. The two dance around the ring a few times, then grapple in the center. Tempest grabs Corman's arm then twirls around, holding him in a chicken wing. Corman reverses it and some how puts her in a half-nelson. Tempest twirls out of it again, but abruptly gets layed out by a swift short-arm clothesline by Corman.]

Jeff: (chuckling) That was funny how Tempest all starts her gymnastics, then gets layed out like that, heheheh.

Tim: (under breath)Sexist bastard...

Jeff: Huh?

Tim: What?

[Corman lifts Tempest back up Corman hits Tempest with a series of stiff right hand shots, backing her into the corner. She shakes her head trying to recover as he leaps to the top rope, turns and jumps. Tempest hits the mat hard while Corman starts to stand.]

Jeff: Oh! Nice Tornado DDT from the Canadian Kid. To bad Tempest isn't a citizen, maybe he'd go easier on her. [As Tempest struggles to her feet in the corner, Corman gets a running start toward her, but she jumps out of the way at the last second. As Corman stumbles back, she rears back and kicks toward his head. He catches her leg, but she leaps up into an Enzuguri. He catches this too, but she swings under his arm and flips him over onto his back with the momentum.]

Jeff: Whoa, what the fuck was that!?

Tim: It was an excellent example of Tempest's atheletic ability.

Jeff: Uh, yeah, whatever...

[Tempest gets back up and shakes off some of the fatigue, then leans forward when Corman stands back up. Tempest whips him into the ropes, then runs towards him. Corman ducks when he sees her coming, but Tempest does a somersault flip over Corman's back when the two almost meet. The move gets a fairly large pop from the crowd as Corman stands straight up, confused from the maneuver. Tempest spins herself around, then does a martial arts-style leg sweep, knocking Corman off of his feet. She then lifts Corman's leg for the pin...]

[One, two, t-Kickout!]

Tim: Beautiful move there by Tempest, followed by a three count.

Jeff: This match is still just starting though...

[Tempest rolls off of Corman and hops to her feet, as Corman stands up slowly. Tempest runs towards the turnbuckle then springboards back off of it, aiming a missile dropkick at Corman's chest. Corman moves at the last moment, as Tempest hits the mat hard legs first, making them twist in an unpleasant way. Corman lifts her back up, then bounces off the ropes right behind him and executes a Wrap-Around DDT. Tempest hits the mat as though the DDT was aimed high angle, with her neck hitting the mat first. Corman goes over to the turnbuckle as Tempest grabs the second rope, using it as leverage. Corman climbs to the top of the turnbuckle as Tempest fully stands up. Corman leaps from the top rope for a Frankensteiner, but his leg slides over her head and knocks her down, but without the desired effect. Tempest rolls back up and runs at him before he can stand, leaps into the air and grabs his head for a flying somersault neckbreaker that nearly yanks him out of his boots.]

Tim: Oh! Corman misses with the Frankensteiner and Tempest takes advantage. I gotta think that Corman's at a slight disadvantage in that at 5'8" and 178 pounds, he hasn't had to fight anyone smaller than him in a long time.

Jeff: Oh great. So it's the battle of the midgets.

Tim: Midgets? Well why don't you try and pick a fight with one of those midgets and we'll see how you fare.

Jeff: Um... well... Hey look at that!

[Tempest leaps for a headscissors but Corman swings her around the back of his neck and yanks her face down hard into his knee. She rolls across the mat, clutching her face and rolls under the bottom rope. Corman follows her outside the ring and lifts her up by the hair. He gets a running start toward the steel stairs, but Tempest hits them with her feet and flips back over his head. She shoves hard and Corman gets a the stairs right in the gut. He tumbles over them and rolls around on the floor.]

[Tempest shakes her head and then leaps to the ring apron. She springboards off the top rope into a corkscrew moonsault, vaulting high over the ropes before crashing onto Corman on the floor.]

Tim: My god! Did you see that? Tempest flew!

Jeff: That's getting to be a trend around here.

Tim: Oooh, you should do stand up Jeff.

Jeff: Really, ya think so?

Tim: Yeah. Stand up in the corner.

Jeff: What kind of lame ass joke was that?

[Tempest and Corman are both out of it outside the ring. The ref comes outside to check on them, when Tempest slowly starts to stand up using the ring apron. Corman starts to sit up as Tempest backs off to the steel steps. Corman gets up completely and crawls back into the ring, as does Tempest. Corman and Tempest tie up in the middle of the ring again, with Corman getting the upper hand. Corman puts Tempest in a front chancery headlock, then lifts her head back up and jumps forward, hitting a running neckbreaker (Triple H's variation). Corman then hooks her leg for the pin...]

Tim: This could be it...

[One, two, th-Kickout!]

Tim: Very near fall there by Corman...

Jeff: Slow count ref! That was a slow count! It was three!!!

[Corman lifts Tempest back up, applying a side headlock on her and gets a running start into a bulldog. Tempest hits the mat hard and rolls over clutching her head. He leaps for an elbow drop but Tempest rolls away. As Corman lands painfully, Tempest stands and heads to the corner. She climbs the turnbuckle and leaps into a 450 splash just as Corman rolls over. His eyes widen in horror just before she lands with a resounding thwack.]

[Tempest gets up slowly, holding her own middle as Corman gets to his feet. She plants a solid kick to his stomach that doubles him over and then another as she takes a moment to breath. Then Tempest looks at the staggering figure and appears to get a bright idea. She drop kicks him once more in the jaw, but as he staggers into the corner she runs over and lifts him into a fireman's carry.]

Tim: Whoa! Now that's something you don't see very often. Tempest getting brave here with Corman.

Jeff: Yeah, ya know I thought she meant something totally different when she said she was looking to pick him up earlier.

[Tempest takes off and with a little momentum leaps into a forward roll and plants Corman on his back, somersaulting over him.]

Tim: Forward Roll Slam! I think that's the first slam I've ever seen her do.

[Tempest rolls up to her feet and runs toward the turnbuckles. She climbs them rapidly and turns before springing into a somersault plancha.]

Tim: Damn! Tempest has the match in the palms of her hands by now!

Jeff: Don't count the C-Kid out yet...

[A "Tempest! Tempest!" chant starts up in the crowd as Corman starts to get up. Tempest hooks Corman into a front chancery for a DDT, but Corman pulls back on it, lifting Tempest into the air and holding her in a variation of a German Suplex. The ref doesn't count because Tempest's feet are on the ropes, so Corman releases her and hops back to his feet.]

Jeff: Now, give Corman some credit for a quite innovative move right there!

Tim: Indeed, that was a nice reversal by Corman, he can probably capitalize nicely on it.

Jeff: Uh...yeah, I was about to say the same thing...

[Corman picks Tempest up by the hair, then rolls her up for a powerbomb. She shoves off his shoulders and attempts to plant him with a facebuster. As he drops toward the mat, he twists at the last moment and slams Tempest under the full weight of his body.]

Jeff: And that, Tim, is why Tempest is always gonna be outgunned in that ring. All a guy has to do is fall on her!

Tim: Oh really? Then what exactly is that?

[As he asks, Tempest squirms from beneath Corman and sweeps his legs out from under him as he's getting up. She darts to the ropes and leaps onto them, springing up into a missile drop kick. Corman tumbles backward as Tempest catches her breath. She waits a moment and then as Corman stands in to opposite corner, she runs across the ring, and catches him in a side headlock. She runs up the turnbuckles and flips over backward, driving his head into the canvas, and wrenching his neck back over her arm.]

Tim: And that, Jeff, is known as a Rottweiler, and is one of the many reasons she will not always be outgunned in that ring.

[Tempest stands to a deafening cheer and climbs the turnbuckles. She raise her hands and motions in rhythm as the crowd starts to clap in time. Corman slowly rises, looking dazed. He lists to one side, but finally stands just. Tempest leaps into a long arcing corksrew and comes down with her leg across the back of Corman's neck as she grabs his hair and drives his face into the mat.]

Tim: System Crash! Looks like Corman's been crashed but good. And she hooks the leg...

[One... Two... Three!]

Jeff: Lucky break.

Tim: Lucky?! You... Hey wait a second.

[Corman rises slowly, but upon seeing Tempest's hand raised by the ref, he charges her from behind and knocks her to the mat but is still groggy from the System Crash. Tempest tucks and rolls up to her feet, squirming free of Corman. She hauls off and hits him square in the jaw as he stands again and the two trade punches until Tempest ducks and drop kicks him.]

Jeff: Hey, wait! Looks who's coming out of the crowd!

Tim: What? What's he doing here?

[From his seat in the front row, Silky Palms rises and leaps the railing, he reaches back over for the steel chair he was sitting in and slides into the ring. Just as Corman gets back up, Silky smacks him over the head with the chair. He slumps to the ground as Silky beams proudly at Tempest. She looks from him to Corman and back, utterly confused.]

Tim: What in the world is Silky doing?

Jeff: What's it look like he's doing? He's saving little Tempest form a guy she obviously can't handle.

Tim: What the hell match were you watching? She was doing fine just now.

[Silky holds his hand out to Tempest and she looks at him strangely. She reaches out and shakes his hand just a little, without getting too close.]

Jeff: Ah, isn't that nice? I bet this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship for those two.

Tim: I don't think so Jeff. Besides the fact that Chris Davison will have something to say about that, Tempest doesn't look too comfortable either.

[Commercials]

[Camera cuts to the back as Solomon is seen walking down the halls backstage with Tony Bradshaw just catching up to him again.]

Tony: Come on Kyle. Your silence only proves yo...

Kyle: Proves what Tony? That I'm a horrible wrestler? Why don't you do everyone a favour and shut the hell up. The Mark's done with you. If you want to do Kyle Solomon a favour, then point him in the direction of the office of Mr. Johnathon Drake.

Tony: What do you want with Drake?

[Solomon just stares at Tony]

Tony: Down the hall to the right...

[Without a word, Solomon walks away again, leaving Tony Bradshaw standing alone in the middle of the hallway. Suddenly, Kyle Corman comes walking in from the same place Kyle left to.]

Corman: Other than being fucked out of my dignity, nothing much. What's up?

Tony: Well it's about Kyle Solomon and last week's match. He was looking for Drake and I was just wond...

Corman: Well I heard him talking last week to somebody in his locker room and it was awful loud. I wasn't eavesdropping or anything but it was hard not to hear him, the damn guy's got such a loud voice. It was right after he got in the arena and it sounded like he was on the phone. Said something about an accident the day before.

Tony: What kind of accident?

Corman: I don't know, but he said something about his neck and how he wasn't going to tell Drake anything, and he told whoever he was talking to to keep it on the DL.

Tony: The DL?

Corman: The down low Tony. You know, like, he doesn't say anything to anyone?

Tony: Of course...

Corman: But then again I could be wrong cuz well... we all saw that segment where Tre came into his locker room last week and said he'd best make an "interesting match?" well after his match he limped his broken ass all the way to the back and kept muttering Drake's name. Calling him a sonofabitch and whatnot. Then, he dropped a piece of paper in his hand and before he bent down to pick it up, I saw it was a piece of stationary from the management of the HWF, and Drake's name was signed at the bottom.

Tony: If you'll excuse me Kyle, I have to go.

Corman: Yeah... sure...

[Bradshaw exits, walking in the direction opposite Kyle Corman as the camera fades back to Tim and Jeff]

Jeff: What the hell is going on there...

Tim: I think there was more to last week then met the eye Jeff! I KNEW Solomon couldn't lose THAT badly. There's just NO WAY ANYONE could lose like that and still actually have the guts to come back to work the next week... or even show their face in public!

[The shot goes back to the ring. The fast metallic riff of The Juppongatana blasts through the air as Jin Kobayashi and Tatsumi Hashimoto step out from the back. Tatsumi is unusually stoic as he heads towards the ring with a determained stride. Jin is nearly left behind as Tatsumi heads to the ring with a purpose. The Warriors slide into the ring and Jin quickly snags a mic. Upon close examination we can see that the marks on Tatsumi's chest from the staples a week earlier are slowly healing and will soon just be another set of scars. Jin passes the mic off to Tatsumi and the music slowly dies out]

Tatsumi Hashimoto: Last week you all saw me lose a match to Chris Thrilla... it was a loss that effects my record, but it was a victory for honor. Winning and losing is meaningless in this day and age. I went into that match with one single goal... to cut Thrilla... to make him bleed for the insults against my culture. I did that very thing... I achieved my goal in that match and I made Chris pay for his insults. Perhaps Chris and his little friend still don't respect my culture, but when Chris reaches around and feels that bandage on his back... well maybe then he'll think twice about voicing his opinions. Chris, Spike... the HWF's tag ranks are small... we WILL met in the ring and when we do it will be a match for the ages. But until then...

[Tatsumi passes the mic off to Jin and slowly paces the ring as Jin prepares to speak...]

Jin Kobayashi: Until then we wish to prove ourselves to the fans here in the HWF. It's obvious to us that only those who win over the fans will get the chances at greatness. We have many things to prove... we must prove just how hardcore we can be... we must prove how well we can perform... and we must prove that we can entertain. Of the few few teams here only one has struck us as opponents of honor... opponents who we want to wrestle... opponents who we would be honored to lose to. These men showed honor even in their losing efforts, never once attempting to make excuses or giving up hope. These men are the Wrecking Crew. Rickey... Billy... we would be honored if the Wrecking Crew would do battle with us at Holiday Hangover. Wrecking Crew, the challenge is made, except it if you will...

[Jin drops the mic and heads out of the ring as Tatsumi leaps over the top rope and lands firmly on the floor. The Warriors head up the ramp and finally disappear into the back as the fans sit ready for the action to continue.]

Tim: We'll be right back...

[Commercials]

[The camera fades to the back as Tony Bradshaw is seen once again, this time walking into the dressing room of Kyle Solomon.]

Tony: Kyle, before you say a word, I not only ask, but I DEMAND you give an explanation for your... awkward wrestling behaviour last week. It was very... un-Solomonesque if you prefer.

Kyle: And what do you want me to say Tony?

Tony: We'll start with this: Last week when Tre Coleman asked you to have an "interesting" match with J Simon Rykopathe, did you receive a letter from the head of the HWF. a Mr. Johnny Drake?

[Kyle sits with his head down for a moment, but Bradshaw only gets impatient]

Tony: ... Kyle?

Kyle: Shut UP Tony. Just shut the hell up for once. Yes I did receive a letter from Drake. And before you ask, yes it did ask me to drop the match. He threatened my career alright? It said... something about how Ryko was about to hit bigger and better things and he couldn't afford his image be tarnished in any way by a loss to a "newbie" to the fed. So he said I drop the match or else I drop my career...

Tony: ...and what of this phone call you have been reported to have made upon your arrival at the Philips Arena in Atlanta Georgia? Something about an accident?

Kyle: THAT is none of your business

[With this, Kyle gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Bradshaw chasing after him]

Tony: Kyle are you aware of the HWF's rules on wrestling injured? Are you aware of the rule that states if you are injured in any way that could majorly effect yoiur wrestling performance that you are to see HWF physicians immediately, if not sooner, to receive medicval attention, and you are also supposed to consequently miss any Saturday Night Suicide match-up you may be scheduled for?

[The camera fades back to Tim and Jeff with Bradshaw's last words]

Jeff: Why doesn't that idiot interview me? "Umm... yes, I was announcing at Kyle Solomon's last match and he was fit as any other time I've seen him. he got his ass kicked and his contract shouldn't be revoked because of any rule-breaking, but because he just plain sucks and lacks major amounts of talent."

Tim: Would you SHUT UP already?

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

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

[The two silhouettes of both Chris Thrilla and Spike appear on the screen, black and with red outlining them.]

yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah,

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

[The screen explodes into tiny pieces, like the shards of a glass, all the while red pyro goes off on the sides of the stage. Teen Angst step out from the shattered glass and smoke and walk down to the ring. They push a dumpster to the ring, inside we can see a framed picture of Lance Sterling, chairs with C4 explosives, garbage cans, a picnic table, a bucket and lid, among other things.]

Jeff: Teen Angst is bringing some toys!

[As "Blood Brothers" by Papa Roach blasts from the P.A. system the crowd explodes into cheers. Silver and gold strobe lights begins to flash around the arena as Lance Sterling and Michael Trey emerge from the curtain. Both tXa members stop at the top of the entranceway and look at each other. Suddenly, an explosion goes off behind them and both men begin dashing towards the ring area. They drop their titles in the aisle and dive into the ring.]

Tim: tXa is really pumped for this match!

[The bell sounds, but the action has already begun. The team are brawling in the center of the ring, neither man wanting to give the other an inch. Sterling and Thrilla are paired off, Trey and Spike brawl closer to the camera.]

Jeff: Fist to fist combat! Great!

[Thrilla and Sterling lock up, fighting for position.]

Tim: Odd... A technical maneuver.

[Sterling looks to over power Thrilla, but Chris rips his arms out of Sterling's grasps and ducks down to knee, then drills Lance with a low blow!]

Tim: Oh, there we go.

[Spike and Michael Trey are still trading punches, neither man really having an advantage.]

Jeff: I'm torn here! Teen Angst is great, they're funny, they're rude... but Lance Sterling is...

Tim: is???

Jeff: THE GREATEST!!!

[Tim sighs while Michael Trey lifts a knee to Spike's stomach. The brawl is halted, replaced by a slower pace. Trey hooks the arm of Spike and turns, hiptossing Spike to the canvas. Trey drops a leg across the throat of Spike.]

Tim: Legdrop from Michael Trey!

[Chris Thrilla rushes at Trey and nails him with a forearm to the back of the head. Trey goes flying through the ropes to the outside. Not really hurt, Trey stands and turns to the ring, as Chris grabs the top rope and catapults himself over the ropes and onto Michael!!]

Jeff: Chris Thrilla is airborne!

[Spike slowly gets to his feet and stumbles over to Sterling, who is also just getting up.]

Jeff: *lame hick voice* Swing your partner round-n-round, now switch!

Tim: Man...

[Spike and Sterling lock up, Sterling driving Spike into the corner. Sterling lays in a few kicks and elbow shots and throws Spike to the other corner with an Irish whip. Spike hits the corner hard, stumbling out of it. Sterling runs at Spike with a clothesline, but Spike counters, hooking Sterling’s arm. He sticks out his leg, going for an STO Neckbreaker, but Sterling counters into a reverse arm-bar. Spike hits the mat, but pushes himself up with his free arm, rolling onto his back. He pops up to his feet with a kipup and wrenches Sterling’s arm on the way up.]

Tim: Spike is showing some offense.

[Spike pulls Sterling up on his shoulders with an Argentine Rack, but Sterling slips off and lands behind Spike, locking on a reverse chancery. He tries to lift him up for the Director’s Cut, but Spike throws a set of wild punches backwards, hitting Sterling in the mouth.]

Jeff: If Lance could've hit the Director's Cut there, it'd be all over!

[Spike grabs Sterling’s head and spins him so Spike now holds Sterling in a reverse chancery. Spike jumps into the air for a diving reverse DDT. Sterling counters AGAIN and twists his body so Spike lands face first on the top turnbuckle – but Spike counters THAT by grabbing the top ropes on his way down, springboarding off the second ropes (launching himself into the air) and spins around to face the ceiling. Sterling turns around to meet the airborne Spike, who drops down on him with a side-hurricanrana, sending him sliding across the mat!]

Tim: Good Lord, I'm lost!

[The fans give the men around of applause.]

[Outside the ring, Chris Thrilla slams Michael Trey's head into the ring post. Trey stumbles back, as Chris swings for a clothesline. Michael manages to duck and is ready for Thrilla when he turns, kicking the Teen Angst member in the midsection. Trey wraps his arms around Chris' waist in a gutwrench. Michael picks Chris up onto his shoulder into a Canadian backbreaker rack. Trey spins around in a full circle, then snaps Thrilla down in dominator fashion. Michael sends Chris chest first across the railing!]

Jeff: Dominator onto the railing! What's his name may have broken Thrilla's ribs!

Tim: Don't act like you forget his name...

Jeff: I'm not acting... What's his name is lucky Sterling is his partner.

Tim: Damnit, you know his name!

Jeff: Ooh! Brainstorm! Michael Trey, isn't it?

Tim: Shut up.

[Michael grabs Thrilla and drags him off the railing and crashes him to the floor.]

[In the ring, Spike runs at Sterling, Sterling swings a clothesline, Spike ducks and bounces off the ropes. Spike comes off, and Sterling drops down to his stomach. Spike jumps over him and bounces off the other side. Sterling leapfrogs him as he comes back, and catches Spike with a quick arm-drag.]

Tim: Those two are taking a more technical approach, while Michael Trey and Chris Thrilla are simply trying to best one another!

[Spike pops up onto his feet, and is taken down with another arm-drag. Spike pops back up, and is taken down with a deep hip-toss from Sterling. Sterling goes to grab Spike on the mat, but Spike uses both legs to kick him to the mat. Spike quickly gets to his feet and arm-drags Sterling the
second he stands. Sterling pops up from the weak move, but is taken down with another one. He bounces to his feet again, and Spike takes him over with a deep hip-toss. Spike goes to lock in a submission, but Sterling counters and kicks Spike away with both feet. Sterling gets to his feet
quickly, and Spike rolls backwards, popping up onto his feet. Both men stare each other down with clenched fists, neither moving an inch. After a few seconds, Sterling stomps the floor and drops his fists, Spike drops his as well.]

[The fans erupt in applause once more.]

Tim: Spike and Sterling have scouted well for this match, they're fighting their shadows!

[Spike turns to see Michael Trey with Chris Thrilla on his shoulder. Trey runs at the ring post, driving Chris spine first into it. He drops Thrilla as Spike rushes through the ropes, charging at Trey.]

Jeff: Switch-a-roo.

[Trey snaps a quick kick to Spike’s gut and locks on a double underhook. He lifts Spike off the mat for the Flash of Pain, but Spike counters by dropping to his knees. He crawls around Trey quickly, bouncing to his feet behind Trey. He grabs Trey’s arms and hauls him into the air with a
Crucifix, and drops down with a neckbreaker!]

Tim: An ECW move! The Tommy hawk!

Jeff: Dude, are we supposed to talk about other feds?

Tim: It doesn't matter, they're dying anyway.

Jeff: Oh, ok.

[Thrilla is a bit sore, but he rolls under the ropes and stands, standing up in Lance Sterling's face. Sterling connects with a right hand to the jaw of Thrilla, rocking him back into the ropes. Sterling grabs Thrilla in a front chancery and lifts him off the ground in a vertical suplex. Thrilla shifts his weight, almost causing Sterling to drop him. Sterling regains the suplex, but he has turned 180 degrees. He completes the suplex, but drops Thrilla over the ropes, causing both men to go over and tumble to the floor!]

[Spike reaches into the dumpster, sorting through various items before finally deciding on something – he raises his hand to show… a framed and autographed picture of Lance Sterling! He slides into the ring, then takes the picture, looks at Sterling on the outside and spits on the glass covering the picture. Spike makes his way over to the corner of the ring and jams the picture into the turnbuckle. Sterling – looking quite pissed off – charges into the ring at Spike.]

Jeff: No! He didn't spit on Lance's picture!

Tim: Yes... he did!

[Spike flips off the running Sterling and plants a drop toehold on him, sending his face through the picture! The glass shatters, and small pieces stick to Sterling forehead as he gets back up slowly.]

Jeff: NO!!!

[Sterling stumbles back to his feet, blood slowly coming his forehead. He stumbles right into the clutches of Spike, who grabs him in a waistlock. Sterling gets a rush of energy and sticks his arms underneath Spike's getting a waistlock of his own. Lance spins and elevates Spike, drilling Spike with a belly to belly bridge suplex!]

[One... ....Two... Kickout!]

Tim: Only a two count!

[Sterling gets back to his feet and walks to the ropes, concerned for his partner. Michael Trey is slowly getting up. Sterling turns around as Spike is rushing towards him. The two collide and the momentum takes both men over the ropes and to the outside!]

Jeff: All four men are outside now.

[Michael Trey is up to his feet and grabs Chris Thrilla by the hair, pulling him up. Thrilla takes a shot to the face, staggering him back from Trey. Trey swings again, knocking him to his knees. Michael backs away slowly, motioning to the crowd. He stands there, poised, and extends his leg with a standing sidekick, but Thrilla grabs a garbage can lid and flings it at his head, knocking him to the floor before the kick hits.]

Tim: It seems no one can get one step ahead of the other team!

[Spike has a ladder in hand and slides into the ring.]

[Thrilla lifts Trey by his neck and takes a garbage can, sticking it over Trey’s head. He rolls Trey onto the announce table, right in front of Tim and Jeff.]

Jeff: Hey! Get out of here!

Tim: Get! Get!

[Sterling comes running over to Thrilla, knocking him away from Trey, but does not pull Trey off the table. He continues wailing on Thrilla, knocking him over the guardrail and following him into the crowd. Spike, on the inside of the ring, has already begun to climb the ladder, looking down at Trey. Spike reaches the top of the ladder, standing with both feet close together. He spreads his arms out to the side, looking like he is being crucified. He glances down at Michael Trey, and then leaps off the top of the ladder.]

Tim: Don't do it!

[He comes down, dropping a leg over the garbage can, crushing it AND Trey while going through the table!]

[HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!]

Jeff. OH... M... OD!!!

[The voice of Jeff is scrambled, resulting from the table crash.]

Tim: Can you hear me?

Jeff: Unfortunately.

Tim: Oh, screw you.

[Lance Sterling and Chris Thrilla are making their way back to the ring area. Lance throws Chris over the railing, then steps over. Lance grabs Thrilla by the hair and throws him under the ropes into the ring. Sterling then turns to see Spike and Michael in the rubble of what used to be the announce table.]

Tim: Sterling is just seeing what happened for the first time!

[Sterling walks over, grabbing Spike by the head. He slides Spike into the ring, following after. Chris Thrilla is up and is virtually run over by Lance Sterling with a massive clothesline.]

Jeff: Lance really is the greatest!

[Sterling turns back to Spike and grabs his legs, hooking him into a reverse figure four leg lock.]

Jeff: Hollywood and Vine!

Tim: I must admit, Sterling is running the show.

Jeff: DAMN STRAIGHT!

[Outside, Michael Trey has taken the garbage can off of his head and is pissed! He angrily throws the remnants of the table off of him. He gets to his feet, a bit wobbly. He then dives in the ring and goes to the ladder. Michael begins to climb the ladder, as Chris Thrilla gets to his feet.]

Jeff: Trey is going up the ladder, but Chris is right behind him!

[True to word, Thrilla is also climbing the ladder. Trey and Thrilla get to the top, trading punches. Trey grabs Thrilla by the head, but the ladder begins to wobble. Thrilla nails another punch, shaking the ladder even more. Trey punches Thrilla once more, as the ladder rocks to one side. It doesn't stop rocking, either. The ladder goes tumbling towards the ropes, sending Michael Trey and Chris Thrilla crashing through the picnic table on the outside!!!]

Jeff: OH MY GOD!!!

[HWF! HWF! HWF!]

Tim: Look! In the aisle way!

[The fans' chants stop, turning to boos. The camera quickly switches to the aisle, where Jonathan "The Impact" Storm is walking to the ring! Lance Sterling immediately sees him and lets go of the hold on Spike. Sterling walks to the ropes, begging Storm to get in the ring.]

Jeff: No, Lance! Finish the match!

[Spike runs up behind Sterling with a clothesline to the back of the head! Sterling falls to his knees, Spike hooks Sterling in a side cradle and flips over with an Oklahoma Roll!]

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

Jeff: NO!

Tim: Teen Angst wins! We have new tag team champions!

["Disposable Teens" hits as Spike runs with his belt to his partner. He helps Thrilla into the ring, giving him his belt. The two are ecstatic as Jon Storm slips back up the aisle and behind the curtains. Thrilla grabs a microphone.]

Thrilla: Three and a half months…we beat The Youngbloods…we beat The Anarchs…we beat the Wrecking Crew…we beat Twisted Circle…now, now we've beaten the two biggest names to ever grace the HWF. Sterling, Trey, you put up a great fight tonight. You put up good fights every night. Some say, the two of you are the best tandem in the HWF today, to steal a line from a fellow Canuck, we just proved you wrong! Tonight, Teen Angst was the better tandem, Teen Angst was the better team, Teen Angst was GREATER than the GREATEST!

[The fans cheer.]

Thrilla: Let's face it though, as great as you guys are, you must have been the shittiest tag team champions in the history of this fed. On your first tag defense, you lost. Who the hell are you guys trying to emulate? Twisted Circle? Well, in any case, Teen Angst won't play like that. Remember this night, because tonight, Teen Angst changes the rules. To all the teams in the back, and hell, to any two people who decide to join up and try to take these straps off our waists, don't bother challenging us, WE'LL CHALLENGE YOU…

[With that, Thrilla drops the mic and he and Spike roll out of the ring.]

Tim: Teen Angst are the new tag team champions! Michael Trey still has another match tonight! We'll be right back!

Tim: What's Phoenix doing with that bat!?!

Jeff: I dunno... but I can't wait to see it...

[Phoenix walks out in the hall that joins up with the hall where he set up his trap. Phoenix crosses to the other side of the hall which is lined with several doors on either side, most of them having wrestlers' names on them. He begins to walk down the hall, stopping about three doors down on the right at the door with "The Original Prankster" JD Brady's name on it. Phoenix takes a few deep breaths and then kicks the door as hard as he can three or four times and then sprints back down to where he set up the mirror, rounding the corner and hiding behind the box. A few seconds later, JD Brady emerges from his dressing room with the Hardcore title around his waist to a large pop from the fans in the arena. He walks out into the middle of the hall and looks up and down examining, not seeing anyone in either direction. He then hears a few faint tapping noises to his right so he turns and walks down the hall in that direction. Before he gets to the hall where Phoenix is hiding, the cardboard cutout in the mirror catches his eye. Brady gets ready to charge around the corner when he looks closer at the cutout, realizing that it isn't real. He thinks for a minute and then charges around the corner and quickly ducks down in front of the box. Phoenix then springs into action jumping out from the other side of the box, drawing back his bat, and then not finding anyone standing there. He gets a confused look in his face before the image of Brady in the mirror catches his eye. Phoenix spins around just as Brady stands up and lands a few punches in his ribs causing him to drop the bat. Brady then grabs Phoenix by the back of his head and his shorts and forcefully throws him back first into the mirror shattering it instantly. Phoenix grabs his back and rolls around in the glass. Brady laughs to himself along with the fans watching this on the big screen before heading back to his dressing room.]

[Commercials]

["Original Prankster" by The Offspring hits over the HWF speakers as the fans jump to their feet as they know who is coming. The music plays for about twenty seconds before any stirring from the back happens. Then from the back comes The Prankster himself, JD Brady! Most surprising, Brady STILL has the HWF Hardcore Title around his waist from when he stole it from Phoenix last week. Brady starts coming down towards the ring with a roar of cheers from the crowd. Brady rolls into the ring and takes the title off of his waist putting it on his shoulder. Brady reaches into his pocket and pulls out a microphone. JD leans against the ropes and takes his shades off as he looks into the crowd.]

JD Brady: Well it seems I was put threw the glass in my own hometown of Atlanta last week, BUT WHO WALKED OUT WITH THE HARDCORE TITLE!

[The fans cheer as Brady gets up from leaning against the ropes and raises the belt in the air.]

JD Brady: Until last week I had alot of questions, why is your nickname The Original Prankster? Well I think with the little hundred dollar bill, with the Anti-Straights, which by the way are currently back in jail...

[Fans cheer as Brady just grins at himself.]

JD Brady: Well I think that I showed you why I am The Original Prankster. Haha, did you see Phoenix trying to get that hundred dollar bill? Haha, you'd think he was going to a titty bar that night for a little entertainment.

[Fans laugh more at Bradys jokes as Brady is still letting the jokes come.]

JD Brady: I know that you can't get a women that isn't made of plastic in real life, but come on, titty bars?

[Fans are now chanting "Br-ady Br-ady Br-ady" as he tells them to calm down a little bit.]

JD Brady: Lets get back to being serious here for a second though. You know, I've been hanging onto the title for a week now and I must admit Phoenix, it looks a HELL of a lot better on me than it ever did on you. In fact, I think that me holding the title should become a permanent thing. I've outpranked you the past two weeks easily, you tried to beat me at my own game but you couldn't, you just weren't smart enough. And a man who is not as smart as the other should NOT be hanging onto the Hardcore Title. I mean, the fans want it, I want it, your momma told me last night she wanted it....

[The fans pop at that last comment by The Prankster. Brady smirks and stops for just a second, then starts pacing around the ring talking again.]

JD Brady: So I think it only be fair that I hold this Hardcore gold for good! I know you don't play games Phoenix, I know you don't like em, do ya? Well, at least you didn't like them last night with the little Real JD Brady stint that I pulled last week on ya, huh?

[Fans laugh at remembering last week and the games Brady played with Phoenix.]

JD Brady: So come out Phoenix, I've got a few things to say.

[Brady stands in the ring for a few moments as he doesn't have to wait long for "Close The Door" by Prong hits as the fans boo as Phoenix emerges from the curtains, mic in hand, wearing his torn black shorts and a Lasek "SHXT" shirt. He stands under the HWF-Tron and surveys the crowd for a few seconds hearing nothing but jeers. Phoenix raises his arms in the air to which the fans continue to boo even louder. He then shoots a few disgusted looks out at the crowd before walking to the front of the stage.]

Phoenix: Alright Brady, you steal my belt not once, but twice last week and your real proud of yourself. And now this week, you throw my ass through a mirror when I try to get back how you would do it. What a load of crap that turned out to be. So now, rather than having me come down there to get it back my way, you want to talk? Hell, I can take a few laughs before beating your ass for what is it, the seventh time now? Fine, lets talk.

JD Brady: Did ya miss your title?

[Fans cheer a little as Phoenix doesn't even pause to respond.]

Phoenix: I know, you know, and they all know that that belt is mine. You haven't done a damn thing to get it other than grab it and run like a little bitch so, yeah, I miss it. Where exactly are you going with this?

JD Brady: Yes it is, but I have another question for you.

Phoenix: What?

JD Brady: Do you want your title back?

Phoenix: What kind of dumbass question is that? I've busted my ass for three months now to make damn sure that I keep that belt. You know better than anyone what I'll do to hang on to it, so yeah, I want it back.

[Phoenix begins to walk down the ramp toward the ring.]

JD Brady: Whoa, hold a second now. I hope you know I'm not going to be giving it up easily.

Phoenix: And why the hell not? I think I've easily proved over the last few months that you sure as hell don't deserve it. Yeah, you may be the better wrestler. Yeah, may be damn good at making me bleed worse than a stuffed pig. Yeah, I think I've gotten the worse end of most of our little bloodbaths, but that all means jack shit. Each and every time I somehow find a way to beat you. If you're not going to hand it over to me, you better have a damn good plan because I'm not in the mood for another joke right about now.

JD Brady: Right, your getting better at this. Ok, this is what I want. Phoenix vs. JD Brady, Holiday Hangover 3, Hardcore Title Match, in a little match I'd like to call The Finale.

Phoenix: Go on.

JD Brady: Alright, well this Finale Match will take place inside of the ring, but there will be a few modifications to the ring. In the corners will be glass mirrors, outside of the ring will be sharp, shattered glass. Certain spots of the mat will, well lets say a little sensitive to human touch because if you fall hard on these sensitive spots C4 explosions will go off right in your face!

[The crowd cheers for the match so far. Phoenix is nodding his head in agreement.]

JD Brady: But this is The Finale, the final, this will put one man out, maybe for good. And all those things I've mentioned are standard HWF, right? Well that is why outside of the ring, past the shattered glass, there will be a ladder. You must bring the ladder back into the ring, center it up with the ring, and take your opponent to the top of the ladder. Now here is where it gets interesting. After somehow myself and you get up there, to win the match, you must put your opponent in a noose!

[Crowd pops again as they think The Finale Match will be huge!]

JD Brady: Oh wait, wait, we have already had a few noose matches in the HWF, haven't we? Well then, lets make this an even MORE interesting. Instead of a rope noose, lets make it a Barbed-Wire Noose!

[Crowd has a thunderous pop this time as they think of one of the two men hanging from a Barb-Wire Noose! Phoenix looks at JD Brady for a few seconds and shakes his head in agreement.]

Phoenix: Alright, alright, it sounds good to me. If you want to see how badly you can make me bleed one more time before somehow finding a way to make yourself lose once again, I'm up for it. But let's be honest. This shit is starting to get old. Sure, we've had some classic matches before, but let's be honest, enough is enough. As good as it makes me feel to watch you try to win before coughing up the win, I think it's time we put this to rest. If you want to call this match "The Finale", then let's make it just that. With this match, we'll put an end to all of this pointless brutality between us. So you know what, this is it for you. Six tries at that belt and seven shots at me is enough. There will be no more of this shit. This match, your little Finale, will be just that. This match will be your last title shot against me. If you win, the belt is yours. If I win, you are going to get cut down from that noose and will hand that belt to me before walking peacefully off into the sunset. So if that sounds good to you, then this match and your one last title shot is on.

[Crowd has mixed reactions towards that but JD Brady quickly responds.]

JD Brady: I only need one more shot.

[With that being said Brady looks at the Hardcore Title and takes it off his shoulder. Brady kisses it and throws it over the top rope. Phoenix looks at it and walks down to it and picks it up. "Close The Door" by Prong hits the speakers as Phoenix walks back up the ramp, Hardcore title in hand.]

[Camera fades to the back as Tony Bradshaw is seen once again, only this time walking into the office of Johnny Drake.]

Jeff: Haven't we seen enough of Bradshaw for one Suicide? That nosey bastard just doesn't know when to quit!

[The camera follows Tony in as he walks over to Johnny Drake, who is sitting at his desk filling out paperwork. Without looking up, Drake addresses Bradshaw]

Johnny Drake: What is it Tony?

Tony: Well... well Mr Drake... I would just like...

Johnny Drake: Tony, if you would like me to give you some time to remember how to string together a proper sentence, merely say the word and you may have that time. Otherwise, either get on with it or kindly get out. I have work to do.

Tony: No Mr. Drake, I'll be fine. I just came here to ask you if there were any truth to the rumors of you asking Kyle Solomon...

Johnny Drake: ... to drop his match last week? Yes Tony, I did. I owed Mr. Rykopathe a favor for ridding me of Extream. People who do me favors do not go unrewarded Mr. Bradshaw...

Tony: And what of the rumor of Kyle Solomon getting in an accident last week?

Johnny Drake: Kyle Solomon was involved in a car accident last week and he suffered head and neck injuries in result. He did not report them to the HWF staff and therefore he broke a fine rule about injuries outside of the ring in the HWF. As a result he was left off Suicide's card for a week and he's lucky it wasn't longer.

Tony: I see... thank you Mr. Drake. I, and the fans of the HWF, appreciate this meeting.

Johnny Drake: ...

Tony: I'll just be leaving now

Johnny Drake: That sounds like an excellent idea.

Tim: DRAKE REALLY DID ASK SOLOMON TO DROP THE MATCH!

Jeff: THERE'S NO PROOF OF THAT!

Tim: HE JUST ADMITTED IT!

Jeff: That... that wasn't the real Johnny drake! The real Drake's been kidnapped by the Lost Soul and his only hope is for Michael Tr...

Tim: That's been done Jeff.

[Jeff glares at Tim.]

Tim: Alrighty we're lookin at a posible quiet matchup next, especially considering the lightning of a night we've had tonight.

Jeff: It'd definately be Curtain Jerkin' material, but guess what....?

Tim: What?

Jeff: When you take a crapfestorific match like a Regular....you get...?

Tim: I dunno, a crapfestorific matchup?

Jeff: Yes...

Tim: And your point, because you're starting to bore me...

Jeff: Well, I've got no point shitlips, BUT, THIS MATCH IS SILKYFIED!! It's gunna be damn sweet....Renegade's gunna have his ass handed to him and tied up in cotton wool!

Tim: Oh my god, you never let up, if it isn't your Pornstar Buddy Lance Sterling, it's Silky Palms. You really dissapoint me. You're like a little kid you know?

Jeff: [Sucks Thumb...]

Tim: [Smax Forehead..]

[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, Prince Charming by Metallica 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 gets into the ring as the music fades....]

Jeff: Oh great, 318lbs pounds of...

Tim: Pure Muscle and Rage....

Jeff: ...Roody Poo, Trailer Park, Broodle, Bottom Feeding, Cheeper then 2 cents, add a Quater, and a Big Mac, Minus the Pickles, Drink some Milk, Hemaphoridite....

Tim: Wha?!

Jeff: ....Penguin Piss, Llama Rectal Cavity Eating.....walking waste of air Silky could be breathing.

Tim: Hey Rocky, You hate this guy?

Jeff: Nope...

Tim: WHAT?!

Jeff: I just like Silky.

Tim: Jeff, I want you to do the world a favor, we've known it for month....take your right foot, and just step out...

Jeff: Step Out?

Tim: Yes...of the closet you're hiding in! [Laughs]

Jeff: Sonofabitchbastard

[Suddenly 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: Jeff, you sung that last week.

[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: Ahhhh! My hero has arrived!

Tim: Um, I'm going to tell Lancey that...

[Silky stares down Renegade for a moment....before charging with a out-of-nowhere clothesline that sends the big guy outside to the floor.]

Tim: I gotta admit, I didn't even think Renegade was going to show tonight. He hasn't shown up on TV for a week now, maybe two...

Jeff: ...yes and Silky is more vocal then ever, he's ready for this one.

[The bell is officially rung, as Silky stomps on an entering Renegade. Renegade shrugs them off as best he can, before getting to his feet, Silky throws a right, but is blocked, and Renegade grabs him in a choke....double handed...and tries to heave him over the top rope and too the ground. Silky goes flying over, but grabs the ropes on the way out, and uses his momentum to slide in with one motion and land a slidingtype dropkick to the knee of Renegade.]

Tim: Nice reversal there by Palms...

[Renegade hops around holding his gingery knee, before Silky stands up and delivers another dropkick to Renegade...dropping him down on his back. Silk then grabs the sore leg, and drags Renegade across to the ropes while laying some kicks into his thigh. Silky then lyes the leg across the bottom rope and does an 'ol Bret Hart and springboards up and drops his ass down, bending the knee in ways it wasn't meant to bend. Each hit, Renegades face scruntches up in agony, before, Silky stops his work on the knee, and locks on a figure four leglock with his head near the ropes.]

Jeff: Silky wants to cripple big Renegade...

Tim: Well, it's his best offence against a 6'9 guy...take him off his verticle base to where he's not comfortable...

Jeff: Yes...[mumbles]J.R

[The ref drops down to check if Renegade will quit, his back touching the floor as he tries to take a breather...]

[One...Kickup, as Silky grabs the ropes and illegally adds more pressure onto the hold...]

Jeff: Damn this is boring...

[Even Silky seems bored, but he continues this really time-old tradition of working over the leg. Silky releases the hold under ref's orders and stands to kick some sense into Renegade...suddenly, Silky turns his head as "Scott Farcas takes it on the chin" by Less than Jake hits the speakers! Kyle Solomon comes down to ringside with a mic in hand!]

Solomon: Oh yes ladies and gentlemen, you can oppress the Mark, you can make him drop his match, but you'll NEVER keep him from his fans! Silky, you made an agreement with the management that I cannot INTERFERE in your matches...

Jeff: What the hell is he saying?

Tim: I think the Mark's going to...

Jeff: Oh no... God no... Get that Mark the hell away from me he makes me sick

Solomon: So since I cannot INTERFERE in your match... I will help...

Jeff: ...Jesus H Christ...

Solomon: ANNOUNCE FOR YOUR MATCH! Tim, save Kyle a seat, you're about to be visited by The Mark!

[Solomon drops the mic as he comes down to commentate for Silky's match!]

Tim: You heard him Jeff scooch over!

Solomon: Yeah Jeff, c'mon, scooch over!

[Solomon pushes Jeff out of his seat as he steals his headphones, and plops down beside Tim]

Tim: Hey Kyle whats goin on!

Kyle: Nothin much my man!

[Jeff gets to his feet as he grabs an extraheadset from ringside and an extra seat]

Kyle: Jeff! So nice of you to join us!

Jeff: Damned Mark...

Kyle: What was that?

Jeff: I said... aw hell, you heard what I said!

[Silky turns to yell and finger point at Solomon who seems like the Austin in the current Austin vs HHH fued...all cool and calm, but without the beer, bald head, black clothes, finger, foul mouth, full goatee, ankle tatoo, Texas accent...well, he's not all that similar, but atleast he's cool and calm.]

Solomon: Silky, turn around....

[Solomons un-intended distraction has allowed Renegade to get up. Silky seems unphased by Solomon's "Turn Around" warning, and seems to fob it off, untill he gets tapped on the back. Silky's eyes widen as he turns around to recieve a headbutt 'o doom, then a front chancery, then a verticle suplex, then he get's dropped straight onto his head into a wicked DDT....]

Jeff: Fist of Rage?!

Solomon: Wow, The Mark has to compliment you on your fine knowledge of the HWF's Movelist...

Tim: [Chuckles]

Jeff: Look Francois, do you mind me calling you Francois? Well, it doesn't matter, because The Jeff has got a few words to tell you Fancois....Number One...

Solomon: And Tim, this match doesn't prove to be exciting today does it?

Tim: No Kyle, when you add a wrestler who doesn't even bother to show his face, and Silky....you're bound to get a boring matchup...

Solomon: Yes, I agree with you, however he has to give Silky credit, as O' Cotton...

Tim: Wow, Haven't heard that in awhile...

Solomon: ...is quite a decent wrestler.

Jeff: I WAS SPEAKING!

Tim and Solomon: You were?

[In the meantime, the ref's down for the count....

One....Two....Thre....]

Jeff: PHEW! Silky kicked out.

Solomon: He kicked out of the Fist of Rage, that doesn't impress Solomon.

Tim: I agree...

Jeff: Stop kissing ass you bitch...

[Renegade has chucked a tantrum as he should of had Silky beat with the Fist of Rage. Renegade stands up and grabs the Ref by the collar as the crowd erupt in H-W-F chants, he leans back and BAM! Nothing, Silky grabs Renegades fist, and spins Renegade around where he recieves a couple 'o rights a left, another right a little hip swing and a huge....KICK TO THE GROIN! Renegade goes down like a tonne of bricks, but the ref hasn't seen it. Silky picks up the bigman, and whips him into a corner, but is reversed...SIlky reverses it again, and as Renegade goes hard in chest first, Silky bounces off the near ropes (ala Billy Kidman) but instead of delivering a clothesline to Renegade who bounces off, he Pimp Slaps him to next year, sending Renegade flipping over to his guts.]

Jeff: It's all OVER! Pimp Slap from Hell will put any man down...

Solomon [To Tim]: Does this man ever shut up, he's begging to annoy the Mark...?

Tim: My god Kyle-man, you'd never want my job then, you'd go crazy, he's the biggest whiny suck-up I've ever seen.

Jeff: Ooooh, if "Not Quite a Spark" Kyle Solomon wasn't here to protect you, I'd kick your ass, and send you through this table with the Jeffinator!

Solomon: By all means, don't let The Mark stop you. I'd like to see Tim counter it...

Tim: Thanks for the support K-Man.

Jeff: K-Man?! OH FUCK ME DRUNK....

Solomon: And you don't kiss the ass of Sterling, you Hypocritical ....

Tim: Now settle man, he's not worth it.

[Silky climbs the turnbuckle, and signals for the Sex Bomb as the crowd boo. He shrugs them off, but this allows Renegade to start to kneel up. Renegade get's up, but is facing the wrong way. Silky takes flight and lands on the back of Renegades shoulders, causing Renegade to stumble forward, with the momentum on his side, Silkster slips to the side,and drops it down into a Rocker Dropper/Fameasser type move, driving Renegades face into the mat.]

Solomon: I cannot believe my eyes, Silky is now even ripping off that no-good, turncoat S.O.B...

Tim: Who?

Solomon: Our Beloved Vice President, Bisc Limpkit...

Jeff: He is?!

Solomon: I once allowed myself to speak to Limpkit, I watched a few of his matches, it's one of his "great" Innovations...

Jeff: Well, I don't care, I'm gunna pleasure myself in naming this move the....the....Giggalo Guillotine...!

Tim: ....

Solomon ...

[Silky rolls across and get's to his feet, even surprised in himself....before laying a few Pimp Legdrops across the back of Renegades neck. Silky then sits down on Renegades back, and locks on a Full Nelson....before arching it up into a camal clutch, or aptly named - the Crucible Clutch.]

Solomon: I must admit, this move hurts like a bitch.

[Renegades grimacing and seething, as Silky is smilin' like his on top of the.....world? Anyway, Renegade starts to crawl across the the ropes, with Silky on his back, before Silky just heaves back...and slips out of the clutch, but holds the full-nelson on, and drags Renegade back to the middle of the ring, Silky then turns it back over into the Crucible Clutch....]

Jeff: IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!

[Renegade then looks out of it, as his eyes roll over...]

Tim: I think he's dead.

[The ref then lifts his arm up....it' drops. ONE. He then shows one, before pulling it up again....it drops. TWO. He then shows the two sign, before lifting it up...in classic Face action, Renegade starts pumping his fist as the crowd goes wild, Silky looks looks around in shock, as Renegade stands right up to his feet while reaching over and tossing Silky like a ragdoll over his head, Silky manages to land on his feet, but turns around, while Renegade goes for a huge clothesline. Silky ducks that too, and comes up behind Renegade, he then ducks down, turns....and delivers a KO Silky Shuffle "The Show Stoppa" to the back of Renegades head, causing a scene that would be fimiliar to N64 players of WM2K and No Mercy as Renegade slumps to the floor as if he just got KO'd.]

Tim: EYEEG....that looked deadly. I think Renegade might of got his brain kicked out through his nose...

Jeff: Nope, that's blood...

[Silky then walks OVER Renegade, trodding him into the mat, then stares at Solomon, before sentually feeling his body, and cutting a Low Bicep Pose. And then blows a kiss at Solomon.]

Solomon: SILKY! You don't impress me....you're going to get yours...

Tim: Well, he's seemed to have a knack for Kissing lately, I think Tempest is in line before you Solomon...

Solomon: Tempest. Hmm, she'd be a stupid lady if she fell for Silky, she might have Davison for a partner, but atleast he's better then Silky.

[Silky then runs up the turnbuckle, and flips over in a picture perfect corckscrew senton splash, landing thudly across the back of Renegade. Silky then rolls over the body of Renegade, then stands directly over him, looking at Solomon again, then looking down at Renegade and giving a big crotch chop, before sitting a foot on top of Renegade and cutting another bicep pose....]

Solomon: That Silky needs to be taught a lesson, that's damn arrogance...

[The ref drops down...]

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

[Silky then drops down, to a defeated Renegade and slaps him silly, before stepping on him again, and delivering a dirty-underhanded kick to the ribs as Solomon is about to get off the announce table.]

Nigel Rolston: And your winner, "Sir Pyscho Sexy" Silky Palms!!!

Solomon: Silky got lucky....[Drops the headset]

Tim: Solomon, don't do it, he's not worth it....

Jeff: Finally, get that P.O.S out of hear...oh, did I mention....SILKY HAS WON!....already!!

[Solomon walks over to the apron close by Silky,and looks like his about to charge in, before he keeps cool and calm, ala Solomon, and just smiles to the delight of the fans, he then shrugs Silky off and mouth the words "You're not worth it" before starting to walk around to the other side. Silky slides out, and grabs a mic from the ring announcer, and sneaks up behind Solomon as the crowd yell watch out, before he can turn however, Silky clunks him in the side of the neck with the bunt of the microphone dropping Solomon like a sack of shit to the ground, as he slums to Silky's feet. Silky then smirks, and taps the mic to see if it still works, arrogantly, after clobbering Solomon with the mic...]

Silky: Well, the mic still works, I didn't destory it on your head....You damned Mark... you don't know when to quit, do you? All you had to do was be the good little boy scout you've always been, go up to Drake last week, and say "Sorry sir, I can't compete. Gee golly my neck really smarts!" and that would have been that. I would have gotten to face Rykopathe in your place. But NO. After all that FINE PLANNING in finding someone to run you off the road, (cuz we know you Canadians don't know how to drive properly anyway), you have to run off and be a hero. Ironic though, as you went to Suicide for your fans but you laid down to keep your job. I'm not leaving anything to chance anymore Lil' Kyle. I'm taking what's mine, and there's NOTHING you can do about it.

[With that, Silky laughs, throws the mic in Kyle's face, and takes his SWF championship title! He leaves, leaving Solomon laying in a heap on the entranceway as "Sir Pyscho Sexy" continues in the background accompanied by a chorus of boos from the crowd.]

Jeff: It's about time that... that MARK got what he deserves!

Tim: JEFF?! How could you, Solomon could be seriously hurt...

Jeff: Eh, it was just a tiny shot to the neck...

Tim: That move, if used right, can paralyz people...the Military know how, and Silky's Trained in the Military...you goof.

Jeff: Phht. It doesn't matter, Solomon deserved that...now Silky rightfully has HIS belt back. The Precious SWF title is back in it's owners hands...

Tim: Get some EMT's out here....

Jeff: Wow, that was actually a very short matchup...

[As Suicide cuts to a commercials, the EMT's that have arrived, tend to Solomon who couragously, pushes them away, and sluggishly ambles up the ramp to the chorus of boos. Renegade is also up, and looks pissed, he exits through the crowd.]

[Commercials]

Tim; Looks like this one is about to get underway...

[The bell sounds, signaling the beginning to the match. The three men stand in the ring, forming a triangle. Jon Storm and David Zakin look back and forth from each other to Mayhem, finally the two rush towards the champion and hammer away! Mayhem is practically at their mercy, as the two men punch and kick the Canadian champion into the corner. Jon and David take turns stomping Mayhem down into the corner.]

Tim: This is a beat down! It's supposed to be 1 on 1 on 1, not 2 on 1!

Jeff: Shut up and enjoy the match, Tim.

[As Zakin takes his turn at Mayhem, Jon Storm takes a step back. Zakin turns to allow Storm his chance, but is blind siding with a sucker punch! Zakin falls to the ropes, but bounces right back and swings, just missing Storm. Jon quickly reaches up and grabs Zakin's head, falling to the mat with a neckbreaker!]

Jeff: You got your wish.

Tim: It's not my wish, I simply want a fair match!

Jeff: All's fair in war.

[Storm is up and brings up Zakin. He backs "The Insider" into the ropes and whips him across the ring. Zakin comes back from the ropes while Jon leaps into the air. The attempted leap frog is blocked, as "The Impact" is caught on the shoulders of David Zakin. Zakin drops to a sitting position, connecting with a sitdown powerbomb that rattles the very being of Jon Storm.]

Tim: What a powerbomb!

[Zakin has no time, as he is caught in a bad way with a diving clothesline from the current champ, Mayhem. Zakin's head is snapped back, whiplash against the mat. Mayhem grabs Zakin's hair, dragging him to his feet. With a hand full of hair, Mayhem slams a kick into David's midsection. Again Mayhem kicks the Insider, causing a painful grunt to come from David.]

Jeff: It sounded like David Zakin may have just got the wind knocked out of him!

[Zakin, apparently suffering from the named affliction, attempts to bend over to get his breath. Mayhem seemingly adapts to his opponent, throwing David into a standing head scissors. Mayhem wraps his arms around the waist of Zakin and lifts him vertical. In a no nonsense move, Mayhem immediately sits down, spiking Zakin with enough force to cause him to "bounce" off the mat!!]

Tim: Good God, what force!

[Zakin lies face first on the mat, while Mayhem gets to his feet. Jon Storm is standing in the far corner, witnessing all of what just went on. Mayhem sees Storm and charges. Storm leaps up, taking a seat on the top turnbuckle. Mayhem is already running to fast to stop, he goes smashing sternum first into the top turnbuckle. Storm hooks his arms around Mayhem and flips off the turnbuckle, rolling Mayhem up in a quick sunset flip!]

Tim: Sunset flip from the ropes!

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

[The crowd is surprised, just as everyone else! Storm is up, celebrating his first fall, while Mayhem is on the mat looking up at the man who just pinned him!]

Jeff: Storm has gotten the first fall in this match!

Tim: What a quick pinfall! He caught Mayhem off guard, not to mention us and the crowd!

[Mayhem is irate, immediately diving from a crouched position onto Jon Storm. Mayhem lets loose in a maniacal Fight Club-esque punching showcase! Storm tries helplessly to cover up, but Mayhem is so enraged that he won't let up!]

Jeff: This is great!

[CRACK! The chair connects with a crack against the skull of Mayhem. Holding the chair is David Zakin. Mayhem slumps over as the referee gets into Zakin's face, warning that he could disqualify him if he wished. Zakin seemingly shows not interest in his words as he throws the chair to the ground and grabs Mayhem by the mask, pulling him to his feet. Zakin hammers at the mask with two hard shots above the eye. Storm is on the mat, bleeding from above his eye, nose, and his lip.]

Tim: Damn! Mayhem just tore Jon Storm to hell!

[Zakin grabs a front chancery on Mayhem, who seems to be out on his feet. Zakin grabs Mayhem's waist and lifts him off the canvas, then falls back with an implant DDT!!]

Jeff: Implant DDT! Mayhem is out, if he wasn't already!

[Jon Storm is up, trying to wipe the blood from his eyes. Zakin gets to his feet and turns just into the side of Storm's fist! Spit flies from the mouth of David Zakin, but he simply turns back to Storm. His eyes could burn a hole through Storm, who is wide eyed with surprise. Zakin lifts a knee to Jon's stomach, then grabs his arm and whips him across the ring. Storm comes back and is pushed into the air by Zakin in a flapjack, then caught in a cutter!!]

Tim: Flapjack 3/4 headlock bulldog!

[Zakin rolls Storm over and hooks his leg.]

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

Tim: Christ! Zakin has a fall of his own!

Jeff: We thought this match would go long, but Storm and Zakin are just a pinfall away.

Tim: There hasn't even been a near fall! It's just two 3 counts!

[Zakin gets to his feet and goes to Mayhem, who has been motionless since the implant DDT. Zakin drops to his knees then hooks Mayhem's leg.]

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

[Mayhem kicks out with authority, catching Zakin off guard. Mayhem sits up and stands, as does Zakin. Mayhem grabs Zakin by the hair and lays in a knife edge chop against the chest!]

[Whoo!]

[Mayhem connects with another chop.]

[Whoo!]

[Mayhem attempts another chop, but Zakin grabs his arm before it connects. David hooks Mayhem's arm and swings around, contorting both men into a Tomikaze! The fans erupt as the unique move is delivered.]

Tim: Tomikaze! David Zakin may have the Canadian title back just a week after losing it!

[He covers Mayhem.]

[One... ...Two... Jonathan Storm dives on top of Zakin, breaking up the count.]

Tim: Finally! A two count!

[Storm hammers on the back of Zakin's head, bringing "The Insider" to his feet. Zakin returns with a right of his own, then Storm. Zakin again. Storm. Zakin. Storm goes to swing, causing Zakin to jolt back in anticipation. Jon instead lifts a foot to his stomach, causing Zakin to keel over. Storm scoops Zakin onto his shoulder, but Mayhem is up and shoves Zakin off of Jon's shoulder. Storm is a bit flustered, but Mayhem quickly scoops him up then drops with a fire thunder driver!]

Tim: Fire Thunder Driver!

[Mayhem rolls Storm up.]

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

Jeff: Every man has a fall! Next pinfall is victory!!

[Storm staggers to his feet, still a bit dazed from the Fire Thunder Driver. Mayhem has turned his attention to Zakin, battering "The Insider" with a flurry of right hands. Zakin is able to knee Mayhem in the gut, ending the assault. Zakin follows up with a blow of his own, but Mayhem counters and grabs a fistful of Zakin's hair. A second later he almost decapitates him with a HUGE lariat clothesline!]

Tim: SAW BLADE! He could have taken Zakin's head off with that move!

[Mayhem covers Zakin, but Storm, fully recovered, breaks it up before even a 1 count is administered. Mayhem rises to his feet and throws another clothesline, this time directed at Storm. Storm ducks under it and spins Mayhem around, kicking him in the gut before dropping him with a DDT. Storm goes for the cover, but is pulled off by Zakin, who Irish whips him into the turnbuckle. Storm's head rebounds off the turnbuckle, and as he staggers backwards Zakin leaps forward, slamming him face-first to the mat. Zakin turns around and is caught by Mayhem, who hooks both his arms and Butterfly suplexes him.]

Tim: Great series of moves by these three athletes, wouldn't you say so, Jeff?

[Jeff is too busy pointing and blubbering to notice. Tim looks at him.]

Tim: Jeff? What's...what the hell is Lance Sterling doing, coming down here?!?

[Sure enough, the HWF champion and former tag team champion has made his way to ringside. He seems very pissed off as he walks over to the commentators booth.]

Sterling: Mind if I take a seat?

Tim: Of course not, Lance.

Jeff: [Blubbering incoherently]

Sterling: Great match so far, huh? Too bad that son of a bitch Storm is involved. Damn bastard...I'll get him for what he did to me, just you wait and see.

[Back to the match: All three men are back on their feet, duking it out. Neither of them has the advantage. Zakin whips Mayhem into the ropes, but Mayhem reverses and knocks him down with a boot to the face. Mayhem lays some heavy duty stomps into Zakin's ribs, while Storm takes a quick breather. Mayhem turns around and Storm seizes the advantage, dropkicking Mayhem squarely in the face. Mayhem staggers backwards, but regains his balance and clotheslines Storm, sending him up and over the top rope, to the outside, in front of the commentators booth. Mayhem looks for Zakin, grabbing him and flinging him into the turnbuckle. Mayhem sits Zakin on the top rope, hooking his head underneath his arm. Mayhem falls backwards, driving Zakin full force into the canvas with a falling DDT]

Tim: Mayhem hits Kindness! Its over!!

Sterling: You're right, it is over.

[Sterling gets up from the commentators booth. He walks over to where Storm is getting up after recuperating. Sterling calls to Storm just as he's about to go into the ring. As soon as Storm turns around he is met with a BRUTAL superkick from Sterling right to the jaw, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.]

Tim: HOLLYWOOD HANGOVER!! Sterling nailed Storm with the Hollywood Hangover!!

Jeff [finally recovered]: It serves the bastard right! Serves..him..the..fuck..right!

[Sterling looks down at Storm and walks away like nothing happened. In the ring, Mayhem covers Zakin after hitting "Kindness", hooking his leg]

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

Tim: Mayhem retains the Canadian title, thanks in part to Lance Sterling!

Jeff: At least it wasn't Storm. He got what he deserved for costing Sterling the tag titles against Teen Angst. Now he knows not to double cross "The Greatest"!

Tim: Well...you have a point Jeff, for once in your life. But Sterling may have cost Storm the Canadian title, and with Storm being the guest referee at Holiday Hangover 3, that can't be good news for the champ... we'll be right back...

[The camera fades to the back as Kyle Solomon is seen storming into Johnny Drake's office! With an angry look on his face, Solomon looks fed up while Drake calmly looks up from his paperwork. Slamming his hands down on Johnny's desk, Solomon begins his rant.]

Solomon: Drake, I have been here for a little over a month, and all I've gotten for it is the BIG SCREWJOB, EVERY DAMNED WEEK. Last week, you told me to lay down for Ryker. What's the matter Drake? Knew how much of a hard time you had with me in the SWF and you weren't so confident with your HWF golden boy? I got KILLED last week Drake, I am getting SCREWED left and right. I did what you asked and now it's still not over, what more do you WANT from me?

Johnny Drake: Solomon, now calm down.

Solomon: and then Silky lays me out from behind...

Johnny Drake: Kyle...

Solomon: Takes the belt...

[With a little more sterness in his voice, Drake interrupts again...]

Johnny Drake: Kyle...

Solomon: HE's the one that ran me off the...

Johnny Drake: SOLOMON!! LISTEN... listen...

[Solomon abruptly stops as he looks up at Drake with an angry glare. Drake looks back with a negotiating look in his eyes and a devious smile across his face]

Johnny Drake: Here's the deal Kyle; You dropped that match last week because it's in the HWF's best interests to keep Rykopathe's loss column as low as possible. This is above you Kyle. Deal with it.

[Solomon still looks pissed.]

Johnny Drake: Now as far as you getting nothing in return for your deed last week, I would like to assure you that people who do favors for me never go unrewarded...

Solomon: I don't want you to GIVE me anything I don't deserve Dr...

Johnny Drake: Now now now I'm not finished Kyle. Do yourself a favor and shut your damn mouth before I change my mind. I'm not about giving things to people when they are undeserving... HOWEVER, I DID see that Silky has... your... SWF championship belt, did I not?

Solomon: Well yes...

Johnny Drake: I thought so. Well being a former SWF champion myself, I of all people see the importance of that title... which is why I am going to make it an official HWF title. An official HWF title - entitled the Smackdown Title - that you will have a chance to win next Sunday at Holiday Hangover, in a best of 7 triple threat match between yourself, Kyle Corman, and Silky Palms. After that match at HH3 though, the belt will be taking on certain stipulations; much like the Breakdown Belt in that same SWF. Now if I were you, I would stop bothering me and get to training Solomon. You'll have quite the task ahead of you next week.

[With a smirk and an understanding nod, Solomon taps Johnny's desk once, and walks out of the office as our cameras cut back to Tim and Jeff.]

Tim: The SWF belt becomes an offical HWF title this Sunday at Holiday Hangover 3!

Jeff: And Silky can finally show the world that he IS the TRUE Smackdown champion!

[Commercials]

Tim: Well, as the Cage lowers down for this Four Way Main Event, you got any words of wisdom on this match....actually, what am I saying Jeff, wisdom? Jeff and Wisdom in the SAME sentence? Damn, I'm going crazy....

Jeff: Tim and He-Bitch in the same sentence? What did you say? Tim's a He-Bitch? Oh, okay...anyway fuckhead....well, looks like the cage is right about down tonight. I expect Trey and Lost Soul to go at it, especially with their heated fued only just beggining. Really, I also expect the Anti-Hero alliance to show through tonight, and....

Tim: HOLY CRIKEYMOSES! Jeff, you actually constucted a nice piece of announcing awesomeness....I'm impressed. Hang on...do you see what I see?

Jeff: Um, I belive I do...this cage has no fucking door....

Tim: Yes, for any big league fans out there, this is a HWF cage, you gotta climb OUT and over to win, none of this pansy door escaping shiznit.

[Then the PA lights up as "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 and slides under the almost fully down cage as the ring lights back up.]

Jeff: And here's Coens, he's easily been the most vocal of the four this week...I don't he's made any friends though.

Tim: Yes, he has ran his mouth hasn't he?

Jeff: That's just what I said monkeybrain....

[Gavin lowers down in a "Bring it on bitches" pose, and awaits the next opponent, as the "UNKLE" Remix of The World is not Enough by Garbage hits the speakers as instantly the whole crowd get's to their feet.....From the strobe lit enterence, nothing, but from behind, out through the crowd comes Trey, sliding in behind Coens, and starting a beat down right off the bat. Coens seems shocked, but manages to block a punch, as they both got fisticuffs.]

Tim: Wow, Trey's outsmarted the "Only Superstar" tonight...

Jeff: Coens wasn't expecting that, but it's typical of the HWF's People's Champion, cheap and from behind...

Tim: Kinda like you and your ho's?

Jeff: Um man, that didn't make sense....cockmonkey.

Tim: Yes, it did....just takes half a braincell to understand it. You have cheap hos, and you go behind them for the 'ol Bedroom Waltz...

Jeff: [Without flinching] That's sorta like when I payed yo mumma off...

["Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward hits the speakers next, as the "Hardcore Legend" Vic Williams flies from the back, sliding in the ring and laying a quick beat down on both guys...]

Tim: He's all fired up...do do do do dooooo

[Trey and Coens block a head to head experience, and turn and double head but Vic, as Trey staggers around holding his forehead as the impact of this unfimiliar move startles him. Then as the three continue punchin' each others lights out, as the lights go out in the entire arena and the first slow chords of "Be Quiet and Drive" from the Deftones starts to play over the speaker system. A few fans of the Deftones start to cheer - but the rest of the crowd is silent - until the slideshow-esque entrance starts. Strobe Lights are turned up and it looks like a Black-and-white movie as The Lost Soul comes down the walkway in a very dark green coat that comes down to his knees - buttoned up all the way to his neck - and the collar coming over to just about below his ears. His long red hair flows down behind the coat - and barely underneath it do you see a dark ruby shirt that is very tight - showing his muscles well. His pants are a simply dark blue khaki - and he wears 64 eye black boots down to the ring. His eyes are a light blue - you can almost see through them but something prevents you - as The Lost Soul reaches the ring and slides under the bottom rope. The scar the runs across the right side of his face - and down to his ear is clearly evident of something that happened in his past - as he has been reborn for the second time. The strobe lights keep flashing as the cage starts to lower to it's final destination the ground...]

Jeff: Eyeg, it's Goku himself...he lookin' pissed too...

[Soul makes a b-line for Trey, grabbing him from behind and throwing him out from this little threesome of fighting force that was happenin'. Williams and Coens look shocked, untill Coens is decked with a cheep shot to the throat by Williams. Soul has Trey in the turnbuckle and starts to go hammers on Trey's candy ass. Williams has now thrown Coens into the corner, and continues with some punching combinations to the guts. Williams and Soul turn, and signal each other, and whip Trey and Coens at each other....seemingly for no reason Coens and Trey have a moment of co-operation and hook arms, spinning them around and running back at where they came from. Williams gets LEVELED with a massive clothesline, as Trey tries to level Soul. His clothesline doesn't seem to phase Soul who catches the Clothesline in a unarage type clutch, and then flapjacks Trey's head straight into the cold steel of the cage.]

Tim: Damn! Trey really looks out of it...

Jeff: You would too if your head just bounced off the unforgiving steel of the cage...WOOHOO! Trey's gunna die!

Tim: No you assbandit, he seems to have his mind on other things...

Jeff: Yeah, his mind's splattered all over the cage...

[Soul then grabs Trey who is hanging over the top rope, and grates his head across the cage with absolutely No Remorse, Trey's face starting to peel like a.....like a peely thing, as the blood runs free. Coens has in the meantime really gone to town on Vic's ass, following up with a nice slignshot catapult into the cage wall. Soul turns to see Vic busted open on the ground, with Coens pummeling his ass, but re-turns his attention on Trey and pummels on Trey's melon with closed martial arts fists. Trey slumps down, while Coens whips Vic into the ropes and catches him in a Belly to Belly catch suplex, sending the smaller Williams hurtling into the cage....back first - and upside down. Williams drops down, landing in between the cage and the ropes.]

Jeff: I sorta with we had one of dem bigga cages, so they could roll out and grab weapons from under the ring....

Tim: Not enough violence for your SickAzz...?

Jeff: Oh, no, it's all good....but if they could get weapons they could all bash up Trey!

[While Vic hangs upside down, with his upperbody under the ropes, Coens climbs the nearby turnbuckle and drops a nice Guillotine Legdrop across the prone and defensless throat of Victor. Soul is totally dominating poor Trey, and grabs Trey in a front facelock. Soul leaps forward, and bounces off the ropes, swinging completely back around and hitting an unorthodox tornado DDT to Trey, which sends Trey deep into the mat. Coens pulls the body of Williams out from his dangerous position, and grabs him by the head, he then walks the length of the cage and throws Vic head first into the cage, as Williams starts to smile as his face is now a mask of chunky crimson. You see his scary white eyes peer through this mask, and his white teeth covered in blood. ]

Jeff: That Vic WIlliams is too scary, even for me....

Tim: How could ANYTHING scare you after you look at yourself in the mirror of a morning?

[Soul grabs Trey's sluggish body and lays the boots to him, ignoring Coens who's made his way over to work on the back of the Soul. But, the now combined assault from Trey and Coens puts down on his knee, long enough for Vic to get back over and charge at Gavin and catches him in a half-nelson. Coens looks confused as Vic has a word in his ear, before planting his face into the ground with....]

Tim: OH MAH GAWD! The Whisper of the Wicked!

[...this allows Soul to regain his compusure and return to beating up Trey, sending him reeling by Entering the Dragon on his guts. Trey clutches his stomach, as Soul lays the boots to him. Vic heads to the cage, and begins his climb to the top, as Coens groggily gets to his feet, and catches Vic with a flying club to the back. Gavin then reaches up putting Vic in a crucifix before bringing him down with a powerbomb. Trey still hasn't mounted any notible offence, and with Claire out of site, he doesn't seem with it, as Lost Soul continues his dominance over Michael. Michael manages to flip over and out of a belly-to-belly attempt by LS, and lands behind him, dropping to a knee from the momentum, Michael then grabs LS in a rear waistlock, before the Soul spins around into his own read waistlock, Soul then brings Treybo crashing down with a deadly German Suplex.]

Jeff: Trey just got folded up, WOOHOO!

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

[Coens gets up and returns to beating up Williams. He whips Williams into the ropes and charges after him, catching him with a flying forearm. Coens then tries to lock on a figure four, but Williams pushes him away, sending him back into the turnbuckle. Williams then stands, and Coens lunges forward with a clothesline, but WIlliams counters it into a 3D!]

Tim: Oooh, Downward Dungeon Drop...this one is over if Vic can climb to the top and over...

[Vic gets up, and is a bit stunned by his counter, but lays some boots in to make sure Coens is down for good, and starts to climb the ominous structure of a HWF Cage.]

Jeff: ARGH, this could be over...Vic's already 1 quater of the way up!

[Gavin is dead center in the middle of the ring on his back, as Trey and Lost Soul battle all the way around the cage, oblivious to Vic who is about to win the matchup...their heated rivalry fuels this fire, but Trey can't get in the lead, with Lost Soul taking him down with another martial arts flying kick. Vic is now at the top of the cage, as the crowd cheers for "My-kal Trey, My-kal Trey" and boos Vic who's nearly over, Vic is now straddling the top rope, and pulls his other leg over to ready for his decent to a really quick victory.]

Tim: This one's over....

Jeff: Goddamnit....this one is over WAY to quick and lacking violent shit.

[Vic's mind them seems to snap, as he climbs back up....and stands on the cage, as the crowd get's their flash photography ready. Vic then looks down, and sees Gavin who still hasn't moved. Vic then closes his eyes, then opens them violently while Decnding, Angel style to the floor below...]

Tim and Jeff: OH MY GOD! DECENDING ANGEL!

[Gavin then casually opens an eye, and rolls out of the way, as Vic decends with a thud, THROUGH THE MAT!]

Jeff: HOLY FUCK, VIC IS DEAD! Vic just went THROUGH the ring!

[Gavin checks the hole, and begins HIS climb to the top, as Trey and Lost Soul are STILL battling it out, ignoring the huge hole in the ring. Soul then goes to end off the bloodied and beaten Trey, and cradles him up for the Zero Effect. Upon the cradle suplex over, Trey rolls over and locks on an inverted facelock out of nowhere. He then spins Soul around, and locks in a double underhook, and plants him with the FLASH OF PAIN!]

Tim: FLASH OF PAIN!

Jeff: Phht....did you just see Vic go through the ring?

[Trey then seems to shake the cobwebs out, and begins to scale the cage too, as Gavin is near to the top. As the crowd stands in readyment for a victory, Soul gets to his feet, and charges up the cage....Gavin is now over, and decending, as Trey is about to go over the top aswell, but Soul grabs Trey's foot, Trey tries to shake Soul off, causing Soul to drop, but he hangs on for dear life, and pulls himself back up, as Trey is now up and decending too. Gav is nearly too the bottom, as Soul gets to the top, and stops Trey's decent. Soul and Trey stand, as the cameras go off. They swing punch after punch at each other's noggins, Soul then lays Trey out with a MASSIVE kung-fu palm thrust, sending Trey to a would be path of doom. However Trey latches on as he falls, grabbing the Soul and bringing him with him, as the two fall.....but Coens jumps down and mere seconds before Trey and Soul crash to the ground which makes Coens the WINNER!]

Tim: HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS! Trey and Soul have dented out concrete!

Jeff: Hey, Gavin won this match, gee, that wasn't expected!

Tim: This is inhuman! Soul and Trey are still moving! Get some EMT's out here, GET THEM OUT HERE NOW!

Jeff: Looks like Coens is the only healthy one leaving this matchup.

Nigel Rolston: And your winner, GAVIN COENS!!!

Jeff: I think the focus was taken off the win, poor Gav, Trey and Soul...typical...always stealing the spotlight....

[Coens then looks across to the otherside of the cage, where the impact occured, Gav just smiles happy of his hard-fought victory that'll propell him to the top, he turns then exits to the back, with "Heavy" playing in the background, Trey and Lost Soul remarkable stumble to their feet....acting on pure adreniline or stupidity in the case of...."Insert either Trey or Lost Soul here"....Lost Soul then swings a sluggish right, as Trey gets knocked back onto the announcers table.]

Tim: OH NO, stop it you too, you need medical attention!

[The broken and bloody Lost Soul, pulls his aching body up beside Trey, and grabs him in a piledriver. But the mixture of dead-weight, and sloppy table, sends Trey through head-first in a extremely botched piledriver as the table gives way just as he was going up....as both men lie motionless in the wreckage...Suicide comes to a close.]