VENUE: Scotttrade Center | St. Louis, Missouri
              DATE: December 20th, 2010

Welcome to PRIDE

A Black Screen encompasses all viewscape. Soon the FBI Warning against pirated broadcasts appears and hangs for a few seconds before it fades out to the NBW Logo. The logo slowly starts to gyrate. Spinning clockwise at a quick speed.

The center is accompanied by flashes of the TFZ Championship.

The Dynasty Tag Team Championships.

The Keystone Championship.

And finally the World Heavyweight Championship.

The NBW logo continues moving faster and faster until only a blur remains and it Explodes.

The explosion causes cracks to open revealing a live view of St. Louis from a Sky cam. The view pans forward to the Scotttrade Center where the fans are still working their way into the packed arena. The view flies out through the gates and down the aisle catching view of all the fans standing at their feet, raising their signs and fists high ready for the NBW end of the year event.

‘Tear Away' by Drowning Pool continues in full amplied force. Accompanied by a videopackage over the EpiCenter showcasing the turmoil that has led to this very night and why the combatants will soon be entering that ring to face each other. Tonight is all about making a new name for themselves, and showing why they are here today. Tonight is about Pride.

The Scotttrade Center was on fire. Well at least it could have been if this were another 50th celebration which Team Viagra had a part in. Instead a golden array of arcing fireworks streamed across the entrance aisle, as numerous explosions gave way to the launching of sparks and spreaders in the air from the EpiCenter. The EpiCenter II show down four bolts that immediately lit up the corner posts in flame before fizzling out.

The fans in the arena were shown once more getting a good closeup on the various sign's that were in full force tonight. Sign's that read: "NBW - No Brand. No Boundries. No Boredom", "I am The Forgotten Son's Illigimate Son!", "TFZ", "SVJ is my Hero!", "Secret's Out - Hopper's BALD!", "Thaddeus Boyle for President", "Bring em' home D-T", "I Heard they sellin' Snow out here!", "I'll be your competition EDL", "Spookydoom fears you Ali".

'Tear Away’ entered into its last verse as the camera crew closed in on the voices of NBW: Marc Gordon and Terry ‘The Rents’ Renton.

“WHAT A REACTION!” called out Gordon over the music while the fans continued to show their support throughout the arena. “Ladies and Gentlemen we welcome you to NBW’s last Pay Per View of Two Thousand and Ten, PRIDE. Tonight the clues have been placed and the master of deduction has been hard at work in solving the case but one last hurdle remains; Lunatic himself. Max Hopper finally has a chance at redemption however after his fear cost him the Keystone Battle Royale, will he be able to conquer his foe?”

“The Forgotten Son has made quite the impact in NBW in his short tenure, accomplishing tasks that even our veterans superstars have yet to do so such as the most eliminations in the Keystone Battle Royale. He has laid way to the numerous enhancement talent in the back but tonight his opposition is the brickhouse of Rath Sammarino. And it is Blitzkrieg Rules folks.” Added Renton.

“He nearly cost his mentor his life, let alone his career after tossing him off the top of the steel cage. Quite possibly broke his back when they invaded his home. And even destroyed his protégé at Ten To One. Tonight however it all comes full circle as the 4th Emergency Service takes charge against his mentor’s half-brother, the Ex-Spawned Terror, John C. Willis.”

“And that is not all folks! NBW’s Hall of Famer and former TFZ Champion, William Arthur Reagan will re-enter The Zone for the first time since he lost to that wimpy punk Casanova.” Remarked Renton.

“Castanovo.” Interjected Gordon but was ignored. “We also have heard that El Dragon Loco’s request for competition has been fulfilled in the form of the Southern Giant. Will Spade quell the thirst that El Dragon has salivating for all this time?”

“We also have a battle of the dumb and ignorant. NBW Hall of Famer Callie Urban has been a thorne in the masked Monster’s side for far too long. Tonight she is being removed from existence courtesy of a triple chokeslam of delight.”

“The odds are certainly not in her favor but I would not count out the young woman. And that still is not all fans. After besting him in the ring at Slam Nine, Alexander Michelle Pierre will step into The Zone with Johannes Antonious de Castonovo for the TFZ Championship.” Continued Gordon.

“The Dream Warriors have been forced to defend their Dynasty Championships against those liars, stealers, and good-for-nothing deadbeats D-T. Through sheer trickery and deceit they were granted this rematch for the championships. Hopefully this time after they are put out to pasture we will never have to see their whining faces again.”

“Be it as it may, the world is tuned in. The live audience is counting down. Tonight for the first time in NBW’s illustrious history both the Keystone and World Heavyweight Championships will be on the line in the Main Event in a Winner Takes All match up. The World Champion, the Superstar Vince Jacobs will finally meet up with the eager Keystone Champion, the Colossus Spike Saunders. What started out as a over zealous fan distracting the giant, has exploded into this ground breaking face-off.”

“One in which Vince Jacobs will further prove why he is The Icon and Double Champion of NBW.” Quipped Renton.

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. We still have nearly three hours of excitement to get through before those final moments arrive. And either way tonight we will have a New Champion. But before the two tear each other to shreds in the ring our co-host and enthusiastic interviewer Trent McKnight has brought back from the dead his creation NBW Talk.” Gordon continued to announce.

“I really do not envy Trent tonight. Vince will undoubtfully be a gentlemen but that man-beast from another mother will need to be restrained to keep things civilized.”

“Fans, once more we welcome you to this exciting extravaganza. And what better way to kick off this spectacle then with The Zone!”

The camera’s faded away from Renton and Gordon while the EpiCenter lit up with the TFZ logo before ‘Previously on The Fighting Zone’ lit up the screen.

PREVIOUSLY ON THE FIGHTING ZONE

Feat.; The Fighting Zone

It was Christmas 1970 when the 5 introduced a new platinum trophy known as the Championship. A big show was held to determine the first holder of the Championship. Guests came from all over the world, and amongst them were Muhammad Ali, Pele, who a couple of months earlier won the Fifa World Cup for the 3rd time with Brazil and a 24-year- old called George Walker Bush.

Giovanni Di Maggio decided that the current Champion of The Fighting Zone, Joe Smith, wouldn’t automatically get the new platinum trophy but he has to face the number 1 contender Gianfranco Schillaci.

The odds favoured the current champion, but in a show of mixed martial arts as well as some pure bullish hits, Gianfranco Schillaci defied all odds and became the first proud owner of the platinum trophy known as The Championship.

That night was a special one for The Fighting Zone. Not only did they introduce a new trophy but new friendships were started. Friendships that moved the balance of power more towards the Di Maggio family.

Ironically, Regan’s entrance theme of ‘Lose Yourself’ speaks of one shot.  This wasn’t so much only a solitary opportunity but ‘last chance saloon.’

Arturro Benz is thirty-five and a 12-year veteran who has scraped a living.  He had to feel that this was a golden opportunity to finally set himself up, both financially and professionally.  It had to happen now and his attitude had impressed Biron Sexton, the super-agent enough, to convince him to be his ‘third man.’  Benz was represented by Sexton, who’d presumably arranged this match-up and what a chance it was to make a name for himself.

On the other hand, WAR had been there and done it all.  He had accomplished an awful lot in both fields of fighting and wrestling.  He’s an nbW hall of fame inductee and he too had backing in the form of Don Toto and Gino Di Maggio, the two Italians funding The Fighting Zone.

Both fighters had their sponsors.

They needed a victory to kickstart their careers.

What would be better than to win this fight and be named the number one contender to The Fighting Zone crown?

With the pair of them inside the ominous steel structure, we were about to find out.

They were circling each other, somewhat cautiously, which isn’t surprising given what’s at stake here and how dangerous this type of situation is.  One slip-up is all it takes…

Speaking of which, Benz surprised Reagan with a right and then a left, which wobbled William, and caused him to wobble.  Arturro stormed straight in and hit another blow flush on the chin but at this point, William, who was being kept up by the cage had covered up and able to block most of Bulldozer’s offence.  It was encouraging, however, for Arturro and there was no question of who had the initiative here in the early going, the audience enthusiastic and keen to see WAR suffer a second defeat inside the cage since its reopening, the first being an amazing upset at the hands of Johannes Antonious de Castonovo.

WAR pushed Arturro away but Benz, encouraged by his start and the supporters, followed Reagan who was trying to maintain a healthy distance, but couldn’t as Benz decked him with a right hand that garnered a roar from the crowd.  Benz was about to capitalise on it, though WAR, struggling somewhat, was still able to get up before Arturro had reached him.  The referee had been unable to even start his count, though to say the punch hadn’t affected him would be wrong.  WAR was on the ropes, not literally given the structure he was in, and Arturro wanted to make him pay.  William clinched him near the cage wall as both men jockeyed for position.  Neither man moved, refusing to budge, even concede an inch. 

Just then, though, Benz lifted one of William’s feet off the ground but couldn’t complete the transaction as Reagan brought himself back down to earth, smashing Arturro as he returned to the ground and then again with fists.  Benz wouldn’t let go though, determined to maintain his grip on the wily veteran.

Something had to give.

And it did.

Dodgy shoulder and all, WAR was able to suplex Arturro and force him to the floor, assuming a mount advantage.  What William didn’t bank on was the Bulldozer’s defence, thus he was unable to fire his shots off cleanly.  More of them caught Arturro’s hands than his face but it must be said that the ones that did land were bombs.  He may be close to retirement but just so you know, William Arthur Reagan can still hit and he’d opened up a cut just above Arturro’s eye.

Reagan tried to pin his opponent’s shoulders to the mat but Benz cleverly locked his legs around the massive body of WAR, preventing him from really being able to dominate his grounded opponent.  Whenever William tried to move and hit, Arturro would also move his head in perfect unison and squeeze, tightening his grip some more so it was turning out to be a stalemate.

Before ‘boring’ could be thrown at both of these fighters, Bulldozer took a chance and not only released the grip…

He struggled and squirmed so he was now back on his feet!  The fans were behind the 12-year pro.  William was visibly frustrated, even more so when he missed with a wild right hand and was countered by a left jab and almost caught with an earth-shuddering uppercut that would have ended his night and, subsequently, his dreams of another accolade.

WAR nodded to himself, apparently trying to give himself belief, which was different to what Benz gave him a few seconds later.  Benz lunged with a kick, which missed but when WAR tried a sweep, Arturro stayed on his feet and rocked Reagan with a clean shot to the chin.  In fairness, WAR didn’t move but it looked like it hurt.  Bulldozer once again tried a kick, this time an overhead one, which missed but when William came forward three steps, Bulldozer evading each blow he tried, he was caught with an outstanding overhead shot that floored him.  The fans popped at that and so did WAR’s veins.  He’d have been livid – if he hadn’t been down on the ground.

A ten-count ensued before WAR stood up and nodded at the referee, reassuring him he was okay to continue.  Remember, it’s a 15 count under Fighting Zone rules.  Once again, Benz lunged forward with a kick, which William elected to avoid and not to attempt a counter this time.  He’d learned his lesson.  He had to fight smartly now.

They circled each other and up until now, Benz had been the better fight.

WHACK!

I’d spoken too soon.  While they were following each other, Benz and WAR had been sparring.  However, William had had the right hand cocked all along and after the Bulldozer had tried to soften him up with what turned out to be a tame jab, William step forward quickly and convincingly, leathering Arturro with a fantastic right hand that shook him to the core and then a left, albeit weaker, which after connecting with the chin was enough to knock the Bulldozer down.

From there, despite a desperate flailing of the legs to kick out and deny WAR coming forward, they went awry and William kept his composure to side-step them and use his closed fist like a pneumatic drill, not hurting his hand but certainly hurting Benz.  Thereafter, he unleashed four solid punches, alternating between left and right, that caused a pool of blood.  Two more rights to the chin and another to the nose caused the referee to step in and usher William back into a neutral corner.

The official began his count but he needn’t have bothered.  It was academic.  And so it proved.  He reached fifteen with no reply and WAR put his hands up in the air, all cool and confident.

That didn’t tell the whole story though.  Benz had came here with a dream and wasn’t far wide of the mark.  Call it a lapse in concentration or just a lack of experience, Benz had controlled the fight up until that point.  Would he be back?

It was too early to say and too easy to knock WAR, who in fairness started slowly and sluggishly but had ended the fight in emphatic fashion, displaying the awesome power he possesses and exactly all of the attributes that makes him a favourite of the Italians who pay the checks.

William was a top-class fighter.  In fact, he does everything first-class.

Surely, his spectacular stoppage of ‘Mercedes Benz’ would ensure a one-way ticket to a mouth-watering rematch with Johannes Antonious de Castonovo for the gold?

BEST OF LUCK

Feat.; Spike Saunders, Callie Urban & Others

“Hey Spiker,” Callie Urban lightly rapped against the doorway to draw the Colossus attention whom was lying on the bench. “You ready for the big one?”

Saunders rose from his lying down state, swung his legs down to the floor and turned to look at her. “More than you can believe. But we need to talk.”

Callie let herself in and took a seat on the bench parallel to his own.

“What have you been thinking? You’ve inadvertently been a pawn in Jacob’s plans due to your beef with that masked menace Torment.”

“Look, you do not see this like I do. At Ten To One I had a chance to be the new World Champion. I BEAT Torment. And what happened? That fuckin’ asshole took everything that was left in me away, and gave Vince Jacobs an easier competition. The way I see it, if not for Torment, I would be the one that wore the World Championship.”

Saunders nodded and grinned: “You would have faced me after Jacobs. Ya’ know.”

This time she grinned: “Thus, I would be the current champion bub.”

“Riiiiight. Either way, it wouldn’t be Jacobs. But why did you help him win at Slam Nine?”

“Help? I destroyed the sperm factory of that monster, saving the world from being infested with his spawn. Not my fault that SVJ took the opportunity presented to him.” She noticed the look of worry in his face. “Look, if you were the one facing Torment it would have been the same. He was going down one way or another.”

“Understood.” He shrugged and was about to speak before another knock drew his attention to the doorway. “Yes?”

“Bro, have you seen Cammy?”

Both Spike and Callie looked confused: “Who?”

“Ya know, Cammy. Thin woman, buxom, blonde.. you know, the sole reason the Creede Brothers popped a woody in their old ages?”

Still confused they shook their heads: “No idea, sorry guys.”

Tony and Chris let out a sigh as the two turned and headed out after adding, “Well we’ll find her. Goodluck big man and dudette.”

And with that ForTheWin was gone. Replaced by yet another figure, hidden beneath his sports coat and luchadore style mask fronted with a giant Z.

“Hey man,” Zed walked in and winked through his mask at Callie. “Just wishing you luck tonight. Take that egotistic sob down a rung or two for all of us.”

“Hell! Kick the ladder right out from under him Spiker.” Added Callie as Zed shook the giant’s hand and left the locker as quickly as he had entered. “Well that was interes-“ she paused as another tap got her attention. This time it was her full attention as the luscious red head from 4CW, Lexia, leaned against the frame.

“Hey guys. Mr. Saunders, goodluck tonight. I know you will not need it but the gesture is there.” She stepped in and walked up between the two, turning to face Callie. “And you, woman… I have a lot to say but I will simply just wish you luck as well. Torment is a monster, but I have seen your past fights with him. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be victorious.”

Callie smiled dumbfoundly. “Thanks. It will not be-“

“Just in case you do have doubts,” she leaned in a kissed her lightly on the lips. “goodluck.” And with that gesture alone, she waived as she sauntered out of the room.

“That was nice of her.” Spike spoke but saw Callie still staring forward. “Uh Cal?”

She dropped from her cloud nine state: “Oh yeah, real nice.” Her mind racing she pounced to her feet. “Listen, I got that match. And uh, I need to prepare and stuff man. Beat that sack of shit tonight, later.” She sprinted out of the locker room and down the corridor leaving Saunders to his lonesome.

Briefly.

“So, another fight between you two?”

“Nah, she was just- well nevermind. What’s up Jack?” Saunders stood and met his visitor by the door.

“You know the usual. Just left Thaddeus’s office after going over the details for the Main Event.”

“Good. I trust you man. I know you respect this business and will call it down the middle. And after I beat Jacobs for the big three, I will gladly hold him for you to get a few shots in.”

“Tonight, it is all straight down the middle. Professional and Legal. If I have to count your shoulders down, I will. The same goes for his. Tonight is not about him and me. It is about you, him, and the Keystone and World Championships.”

Saunders smiled and laid his palm over High Flyer’s shoulder.

“I trust you to do just that.”

“Good.” He turned and headed back towards the hall.

“Where you going man?”

“As I said, straight down the middle. Despite my better judgment, I still have to speak to him.”

“Hah.” Saunders chuckled as the neighborhood lunatic, now one year older, walked out of the locker room. He walked back to the bench. “Now where the hell did my Fruit Gift Basket from Amelia go?”

“Dale Pa’ Tra” by Notch hit the speakers first, letting the fans know that the next match on nbW’s PRIDE broadcast was about to begin.  Being flanked by his manager, Raul Salazar, El Dragon Loco made his way out from behind the curtains, with every member of Epic II jeering him after he’d snuck out a victory over their beloved Max Hopper. 

That asshole!

Anyhow, El Dragon Loco paid the fans no mind and gritted his teeth underneath his mask.  Last week on SLAM!, he’d demanded that Thaddeus Boyle provide him with more and more competition worthy of his time.  He hopped over the ropes with an impressive flip, then took a mock bow just for the audience. 

After a great victory over Max Hopper (thanks in part to a distraction from that lunatic called… well, Lunatic.) he was ready to follow that up with another PPV victory.  That is, until he found out exactly who his opponent was.

Cymbal clash.

“Downfall” by TRUSTcompany hit the speakers next.  The fans didn’t hate Warren Spade AS much as they did El Dragon Loco, but his manager, Fenton Woods, didn’t win anybody over.  After a swift defeat of Erick Davies on the last SLAM!, Fenton Woods also demanded competition for his giant.  And EDL also wanted some competition. So… why not?

The Monster of the Mid-South slowly approached the ring as Fenton Woods talked some trash into the camera, aimed at anybody who didn’t believe that his charge was the real deal.  Warren Spade simply climbed the ropes and made his way into the inside just as Loco slid to the outside, wanting no part of the giant standing before him.

Both Fenton Woods and Raul Salazar started to cheer on their respective charges.

“Stick y mover, pegar y mover! Mantenga esa fatass en movimiento!"  Salazar screamed at Loco.

“Don’t let his beaner talk confuse you, Warren!” Fenton countered.  “Andalay, andalay!”

Spade kept a watchful on the very crafty Loco as he paced around the ring with the referee starting a ten-count to get Loco back in the ring.  EDL simply waited for Warren Spade to slide out of the ring, so he took the opportunity to slide right back in.

The Southern Giant clinched his teeth, snarling at the much quicker luchador as he hopped in the ring, doing a couple of cartwheels much to the chagrin of the crowd.  After a little more showboating, Warren Spade slid underneath the bottom rope, but EDL was there to greet him with a dropkick to the face.

Spade skipped to the outside, grabbing his face in pain with his hand.  Seething with rage, he kicked over the steel steps and pointed at Loco, not happy at all with the wise-ass antics of Loco.  He stomped back into the ring and tried to climb over the ropes, but Loco quickly hopped off the nearby second corner and dropkicked him, sending him stumbling to the ground.

Finally, bringing him to the canvas, El Dragon Loco went to work, hitting the big man with a barrage of stiff kicks to the face.  Spade tried to block some, but EDL quickly fired back and sent him into the corner.   Using the second rope as an aid to reach the much taller opponent, Loco continued to strike him in the head with right after right, but Spade piefaced him and sent him flying across the ring.

EDL stayed right back on the attack, hopping to the second rope again to deliver more fists to the face of the giant.  The blows continued to come until Spade shoved him off a second time, trying to regain his bearings. 

A third time saw El Dragon Loco try yet again to finally get the big man down. He threw the fists and even launched himself off his chest to deliver a stiff dropkick that knocked the wind out of Spade in the corner.  Loco rolled through the fall and back to his feet as Warren Spade tried to come around.  Loco ran at him, but this time, he was caught with hand around the throat…

And HURLED into the corner violently, shooting him back-first across the turnbuckle. 

“THAT’S RIGHT!  BOUNCE THAT JUMPING BEAN BACK TO MEXICO!” Fenton screamed again.

Raul Salazar shook his head and screamed more instructions at his charge as he tried to get back to his feet, only to feet a big palm wrap around his throat. El Dragon Loco had no idea what was going on at that moment, that was until he felt a big burn across his chest.

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

A trifecta of open handed chops to the chest sent El Dragon Loco crumbling to his knees.  He clinched his chest in pain, but Warren Spade wasn’t through with him yet.  The One-Man Stampede picked him up and whipped him across the ring, but Loco managed to catch himself and slid outside the ring, trying to catch his breath. 

Spade went forward and grabbed Loco by the mask, pulling him up impressively with one hand.  The fans were even impressed with the strength displayed by the giant.  Not so much with the eye poke from Loco.  Warren grabbed his eye, then EDL hopped to the second rope and clutched him by the head, snapping him down throat-first across the second rope.

With Raul Salazar cheering him on, El Dragon Loco went to the top rope and flew at the giant, taking him down for the very first time in this match with a big flying corkscrew senton attack. 

“GO, GO!” Raul screamed as El Dragon Loco went on for the cover.

1… 2…

But Warren Spade had way too much power to contend with and powered the cruiserweight off him like a rag doll.   EDL gave up almost two hundred pounds to the giant, but he wasn’t going to stop there.  He continued to kick away at the giant, hitting a pair of running dropkicks right to the face.   After the second shot, EDL scrambled into the cover a second time.

1… 2…

No dice!  The Monster of the Mid-South hurled him off yet again.   Loco, thinking of another plan of attack, leapt out to the apron and waited for the big man to get back to his feet as Salazar continued to cheer on his charge. 

“LOOK OUT!” Fenton Woods shouted from his end of the ring.  “BEAN-O DEL LOCO’S COMING AT YOU!”

He leapt.

CAUGHT.

And EDL got nothing more than a painful backbreaker for his troubles as the fans let out a groan of pain for the sickening counter.  While Loco rolled around on the mat, Warren Spade had enough playing around as Fenton ordered him to slap him around some more.

He casually picked EDL off the mat and whipped him violently across the ring, sending him crashing chest first into the corner before crumbling to the mat.  Loco crawled over to the ropes with his free hand to try and create some distance between he and Warren, but it appeared Warren wasn’t playing around any more.  With an emotionless face, he stepped on EDL and pulled the ropes up for leverage, dropping all four hundred pounds of his frame across the chest.  EDL screamed out in pain and even though he was masked, you could tell how much pressure he was putting on the cruiserweight.

The referee ordered a five-count to get him to back off as he finally did so at four.  Warren Spade grabbed two handfuls of mask and pulled the luchador back to his feet, only to knock him silly with a pair of clubbing forearm shots.  Satisfied with the damaged he’d done, he pressed EDL high overhead for all to see.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

TWENTY seconds. 

Annnnd… out the back door!

Loco landed on his feet and threw a dropkick or two to the big man’s knee to bring him down to his level.  A couple more forearm shots and some more kicks to the knee stunned The One-Man Stampede…

OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

A nasty chop to the chest echoed throughout the Epic II like a gunshot, knocking EDL clear from the ring and out at the feet of Raul Salazar.  His manager screamed at him to get back up and get into the fight, but Loco was looking a little worse for wear. 

“DO YOUR JOB, PENDEJO!”  Salazar screamed as he turned his attention to the referee on one side of the ring.  Fenton Woods, seeing what was up, walked over to EDL who was using the distraction to get a chair out from underneath the ring.  He grabbed Loco by the leg, but he swatted him away with his free boot.  Spade ran over to try and rescue his manager…

CRACK!

A steel chair shot caught the giant right in the bean, sending him staggering backwards.  This gave El Dragon Loco all the time he needed to springboard with a missile dropkick that finally got the big man down again. 

Loco, not satisfied with the damage just yet, climbed to the top rope on the other side of the ring and leapt off , bringing all his weight across the chest of Spade with a Top Rope corkscrew splash!

The fans didn’t really have any care for either man, but came alive with the dazzling aerial skills of the luchador as he scrambled over to the fallen body of Warren Spade, going for a final cover. 

1… 2… 3… 4… 5…

Nah, EDL wasn’t channeling King Kong Bundy and deciding to beat Warren Spade with a five-count.  But rather, it was Fenton Woods who was back on the apron.

“HEY, MOTHERFUCKER!  LOOK AT ME!  I’M A DIVERSION!”  Fenton screamed as he started arguing with the referee.

Raul Salazar had enough of the other manager’s crap and walked over there, tripping him with his alleged walking (Read: pimp) cane, making him eat a face full of ring apron!

EDL started to curse underneath his mask as he had the match won.  As Spade got to his feet, he cracked the giant in the head with an enziguri, stunning him with the shot.  Not satisfied, he cracked him with a second one, rattling the giant’s brains again.

Loco tried for a third, only for Warren Spade to rise to his feet and hurl EDL to the corner.  The luchador had enough skill about him to roll through and land on his feet on the apron to adjust himself.  One more time, he took to the air with the hopes to finally get the big redwood to crash down…

THE TRAMPLE!

Out of almost nowhere, the giant caught EDL in mid-move with the big running shoulder block to the chest!  With EDL crumbled in a heap, he rolled the luchador over.

1… 2… 3!

And with that, Warren Spade was now two and zero within nBW.  It took the sacrifice of his own manager to save him from certain defeat the hands of EDL and Raul Salazar’s own craftiness, but tonight, Warren Spade was the victor.

The Monster of the Mid-South scooped his mouthy (and knocked out) manager over his shoulder and simply carried him out, barely waiting for the ring announcer to call him as the winner of tonight’s match. 

EDL and Raul Salazar stood by, disappointed with the end result and having victory stolen from their clutches, but they would have their day. 

ODDS

Feat.; Judasbleek & Allison Cadence

[Opening Scene] The camera slowly fades in as Judasbleek is backstage standing beside of an nBW monitor. The camera starts at the bottom and slowly pans upward showing Judasbleek’s black wrestling boots, Black leather snake skin wrestling tights, studded belt, dark red five pointed star pentagram logo on right leg of tights, dark red letters T.F.S wrapping around the left leg of tights and black elbow pads, body scars covered over with tribal tattoos covering both arms top to bottom. Finally the camera stops at Judasbleek’s black leather snake skin mask, the camera zooms out to focus on the bio hazard symbol in the center of Judasbleek’s forehead. Judasbleek stares coldly into the camera. The camera shifts to the left as Allison Cadence is accompanying The Forgotten Son with microphone in hand. 


Allison Cadence-Interviewer: “Hello all I’m Allison Cadence and am here with Judasbleek moments away from getting some insight from the Forgotten Son about his upcoming Blitzkrieg rules match against Rath Sammarino. So Judasbleek how do you feel about your opponent? And do you have any words for him coming in to this match”.

Judasbleek stares down at Allison Cadence like he’s having un-pure thoughts of her. Judasbleek breaks away from his gaze of her loosely bottom white blouse to make eye contact with the fans in attendance.         

Judasbleek-“Rath look close and take a deep look into your life. You will have to dig deep, deeper than usual to explore the possible understandings of your own self and discover what it will take to break out of the cycle of the hovering situation and overcome the odds in this match. Don't be afraid to critique yourself and analyze every intricate and detailed part, because this will be where many answers will lie for you. It may feel uncomfortable for you, because it has been for me. Yet, it has been very instrumental in turning my situations and life around. There is not one person who knows you better than your own self, except for the Lord. So, dig deep. When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, when the road you're trudging seems all uphill, when the funds are low and the debts are high, when caring is pressing you down a bit. Rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is with its twists and turns as every one of us sometimes learns, when you might have won had you stuck it out.

Don't give up though the pace seems slow - You may succeed with another blow hah!. Often the goal is nearer than it seems to a faint and faltering man; Often the struggler has given up  he might have captured the victor's cup and he learned too late when the night came down, How close he was to the golden crown. Success is failure turned inside out the silver tint in the clouds of doubt and you never can tell how close you are. It might be near when it seems afar; so stick to the fight when you're hardest hit - it's when things seem worst that you must not quit”.

Allison Cadence-Interviewer: Oook!

   
Before Allison can mutter another word Judasbleek snatches the microphone from Allison as he muffs her in the face as she falls to ground and the camera focuses on Judas. nBW fans erupts loudly with boo’s.
 
Marc Gordon: That was totally uncalled for.

A laughing Terry 'Rents' Renton: ooh yeah! That just happen
 
Judasbleek- "When you look back on the history of nBW you will know he was a man of flesh and blood. He wasn't made of rock. Angel, devil, child, man of ordinary stock. But somehow he was different - true athletes always are for as he cursed, sweated, and bled, he took pride in his scars. They told him to win like a man, no matter what the cost; so many times he ventured forth; so many times he lost. And when they turned around and said, "It's OK son, you tried," he clenched his fist, and like a man he cried.

But from his tears came anger; then, when it ceased to spin, he rose again, determined that next time he would win. His trembling body strengthened; his heart soared in the sky. His darkened soul stood flaming, there was fire in his eyes. He worked and worked relentlessly; he struggled and he strained. His conscience whipped him mercilessly for every ounce he gained. He ran on legs like pistons; his muscled arms grew sore; He'd tell himself, "I have to" then ask himself, "What for?"

And then, at last, the reckoning: the final hour was here, His stomach tightened dangerously, his muscles tensed with fear. His instincts gave him power, and his body did the rest. It suddenly was ended. His body seemed to scatter. The crowd was cheering somewhere, but to him it did not matter. One thought was gleaming in his brain, a thought that made him smile. He's given it all he had, and that's what made it all worthwhile. He stood and faced his enemies, with pride instead of shame. He knew not that he'd won or lost, but that he'd played the game. And some call him a WRESTLER, and some call him A MAN, But he called himself THE FORGOTTEN SON...And the ref held up his hand up high." Judasbleek continues to stare coldly.

[camera fades out]

The Epicenter and Epicenter II shows what happen on last week’s show and a short review of ongoing feuds leading up to PRIDE. The camera cuts to outside of the SCOTTRADE CENTER shows the surrounding city of St. Louis and cuts back to the crazy nBW crowd and slowly pans to the commentary table.

Marc Gordon- Welcome to PRIDE fans if you are just tuning in. We are about to start our next match.  Judasbleek has been on an unbelievable roll since his debut in the ring, but how long until someone derails his sudden momentum can Rath Sammarino survive the Blitzkrieg Rules match or will he fall victim to the E.P.D.
   


Terry 'Rents' Renton - As you can see garbage cans filled with weapons handcuffed to two turnbuckles of the ring. Match goes until one person stands down for a 10 count.
 
 

Marc Gordon- On Slam 8 Judasbleek was claiming that the wrestlers here are not challenging him and they all are inferior to him. Recently on slam 9 Judasbleek sent a challenge backstage and was answered by Rath Sammarino.     

After a minute the camera cuts to a camera side view of the Epicenter and stage ramp.


With that shown, the lights abruptly go out, plunging the arena into darkness. The crowd, intimidated, drops to an awed hush. After a pause, the ominous, theatrical voice of “Godsmack, Saints and Sinners” begins to sing overhead. The music drops out, and a slow, sinister chant begins overhead “WE WANT CARNGE”. Slowly but surely, the stage begins to ignite. As the music rises in intensity, the Pyro fireworks grow higher and higher, bursting from beneath the stage, reaching towards the rafters.

Brent Williams: Making his way to the ring, from Brooklyn, NY weighing in at 237 lbs The Black Death. . . Rath Sammarino!

Marc Gordon:   Rath Sammarino will have to dig deep to pull out a win here tonight.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: All eyes are on you kid, you want to make a name for your self right here in the nBW? Then you need to do one thing and that’s simple Survive.   

As the fast, loud, menacing music continues, a figure appears walking threw the Epicenter double sliding doors onto the stage. Suddenly the music continues booming with intense volume    as Rath Sammarino snaps his head up, peering down to the ring from behind a wall of Pyro fireworks. The Pyro fireworks abruptly drop before Rath steps forward.

Marc Gordon: Terry I think you’re over looking the fact that Rath took a lot of punishment last week on Slam 9.   

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Marc can you do me a favor just for one second jump off the bandwagon of Judasbleek and give Rath some credit. You live and you learn from your mistakes and if Rath wants to walk out of this match without getting his neck broking he will do what the rest couldn’t do and that is over come Judasbleek’s freakish strength. I’m looking forward to the down fall of The Forgotten Son.   

Rath stops short of the ring, slowly his arms begin to lift into the air but in a quick motion he thrusts them upwards, and the intimidated crowd manages only a weak round of cheers before retreating once more. Rath crosses to the steel steps and slowly rises to the ring, where he steps through the ropes. Hidden behind his cascading black hair, Rath stops in the center of the ring, where he finally throws his head into the air, raising one arm over his head. Four tall jets of Pyro explode from the turnbuckles, illuminating the arena once more. 




The lights deem to a pulsing red and blue hue. Epicenter I and Epicenter II shows the words T.F.S and images of gorilla groups going to war, buildings crashing to the ground, and a series of violent moments across the globe and shows a series of violent moves that Judasbleek has performed. (IMAGES) Judasbleek placing Matt Haddon in the E.P.D as he looks into nBW crowd and shrugs his shoulders, flexing his muscles. Judasbleek landing a nasty super kick that smacks the chair into Jupiter’s face. Judasbleek performing a Death Valley driver on top of a steel chair on Rath Sammarino, Judasbleek locking the Enslaver on Benjamin Jones followed by Judasbleek performing the Eleventh Plunder on Matt Haddon,  Judasbleek on the Epicenter stage looking back to admire the fact he left Benjamin Jones in a unconscious state. 
 

Brent Williams: Making his way to the ring, from Chicago, IL, weighing in at 271 lbs. . . The Forgotten Son… JUDASBLEEK!

Marc Gordon: You have to wonder what’s on the mind of The Forgotten Son. Can he keep the momentum going or will he fall victim to the Reset Button.     

Terry 'Rents' Renton: It’s time to put up or shut up and in Rath case I hope he shuts Judasbleek the hell up.

The arena grows silent as Animal I have become; by Three Days Grace- is heard threw out the SCOTTRADE CENTER. The nBW crowd explodes in a mix display of reactions of cheers and boo’s as   Judasbleek calmly walks threw the Epicenter double sliding doors and  down the ramp stops rolls his neck while flexing his muscles and slides under the bottom rope.

Marc Gordon: More easer said then done Terry. Judasbleek has ability to adapt to his surroundings that will make it hard for Rath to apply a strategy. 

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Look I don’t care about his ability or how strong he is. You don’t need a strategy when you have a ring full of weapons.   
 

At that time red clusters of fireworks go off around the ring while Judasbleek stands up and mounts the two available turnbuckles and taunts the crowd. After stepping down from the last turnbuckle Judasbleek stares down Rath.   
As Judasbleek and Rath Sammarino scout each other Referee- Jerry Peterson calls for the bell

DING!
DING!
 
Judasbleek charges in like a raging bull as Rath jumps towards his opponent and knocks him over, resulting in Judasbleek lying on his back with Rath sitting on Judasbleek's chest, pinning him to the mat. Lou Thesz press as he cuffs the head of Judas he lands a couple of punches before Judasbleek bucks and tosses him to the side. Judasbleek pops back up to his feet as Rath applies a front facelock and then falls backwards, much like normal DDT, but instead of his Judasbleek's head impacting the mat, Rath falls to a sitting position driving the face of the Judasbleek on to his knee, Facebreaker DDT. 

Judasbleek is on the ground favoring his head as Rath walks over to one of the steel trash cans and reaches down to grab pair of brass knuckles and places them on. While Judasbleek is coming to one knee Rath catches him with a flying knee to the side of the face. Rath runs and rebounds off the ropes and jumps falling down on Judasbleek driving his fist into Judasbleek's forehead. Rath like a mad man picks Judasbleek off the ground whips him into to the turnbuckle.

Rath follows up with a stinger splash as Rath rebounds off Judas’s chest. Judasbleek stumbles forward and Rath charges towards a stumbling opponent, jumps and brings his body parallel to the ground, driving his shoulder into  Judasbleek's mid-section, tackling Judasbleek and forcing him down to the mat Spear. Rath walks over to grab a two by four as Judasbleek rolls to all fours trying to get up when Rath cracks Judasbleek across the back with the two by four. Referee- Jerry Peterson starts to count1

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Judasbleek starts to move grabbing the leg of Rath. Rath aids Judas to his feet grabbing Judasbleek’s right arm, holding it across his chest and then falling backwards, dropping Judasbleek face first to the mat as well as damaging the Judasbleek's arm and shoulder Arm bar takedown. As Judasbleek is trying to shake out the combs webs. Rath picks Judasbleek off the ground to performs a savage Death Valley driver. Rath stands back as Referee- Jerry Peterson starts to count1

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Like a god among men Judasbleek manages to get to his feet dazed but still standing. Judasbleek and Rath struggle with each other in the clench. Each of them trying to gain the upper hand in the clench Rath breaks the clench and quickly locks in a Wrist Lock. Judasbleek groans in pain as Rath rapidly wrenches the left wrist of Judasbleek. Judasbleek strikes Rath with a couple of punches to the face of the Black Death before Rath breaks the hold.

Rath stumbles back towards the corner turnbuckle near the steel trash can full of weapons. Judasbleek rushes with a smashing forearm to Rath’s face. But while Judasbleek is air Bourne Rath turns around and grabs a road sign and smacks Judasbleek across the head. Judasbleek laying flat on his back thinking to his self, that he made a foolish mistake by rushing in like he did. Rath hasn’t forgotten about the beaten he received last week and is ready to dish out some pain. Rath stomps the upper body area of Judasbleek. Rath continues his assault on Judasbleek by grabbing a kindo stick and releasing a fury of shots to his fallen competitor.

SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!

Rath stands back looks at the Ref. “So what the hell are you waiting for”
Referee- Jerry Peterson snaps out of his daze and starts to count

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Judasbleek endures in his pain crawls to ropes and as he makes his way to the top rope Rath is on hot pursuit with kindo stick in hand as Rath gets closer he tries to swing but Judasbleek gores him in mid swing.

Marc Gordon: Judasbleek showing us his cat like reflexes with that nasty gore   

Judasbleek like a freakish beast starts to ground and pound on Rath. Judasbleek stands and continues the assault by stomping Rath. Judas picks him up and tosses him shoulder first into the Ringpost. As Rath staggers backwards, Judasbleek wraps his arms around Rath’s waist, German Suplex. But Judasbleek doesn’t let go, he rolls over and stands back up to his feet while keeping a strong grip.

Marc Gordon- The Forgotten Son is gaining steam.

Judasbleek picks Rath’s body up for one more suplex. Releasing German Suplex, Rath lands on his neck and shoulder. Referee- Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Rath crawls to the turnbuckle gets to he’s feet as Judasbleek is waiting. While turning around Rath charges Judasbleek. As Rath nears Judasbleek, Judas stands to one side, and slightly behind, a standing opponent. Judasbleek then puts his head under the arm of Rath and uses Rath’s own near arm to encircle the waist of his opponent. Judasbleek then reaches under one of Rath’s legs with his free arm, and lifts, forcing his opponent to bend into a right angle. Finally, Judasbleek falls backwards, driving the neck and shoulders of Rath into the mat, Bridging leg hook belly to back suplex.

Rath is back on his feet, holding his neck knowing that it’s just a taste to what is to come. Ready to attack Judasbleek, Rath locks up with Judasbleek. Rath breaks away and stands facing directly on side slightly behind in an angle. He places Judasbleek’s near arm over his shoulder, grabs a waist lock, and lift Judasbleek off the ground.

 Marc Gordon- Saito suplex!

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Doing well Rath so far keep it up.

Judasbleek shaking his head while down on one knee. Rath rushes with a big boot but can’t connect. Judasbleek dodges Rath’s size 15 boot. Judasbleek quickly counters by placing Rath in a cobra clutch hold. Judasbleek then proceeds to lift Rath up and fall’s backwards, driving Rath to the mat on his head, Cobra clutch suplex.

Marc Gordon: Rath momentum was stop by a remarkable Cobra clutch suplex

Terry looks over to Marc with a grim look upon his face.

Judasbleek grabs Rath by the hair and drags him back to his feet. Turning he looks around the ring. Rath staggers a bit as Judasbleek releases him and then steps forward grabbing Rath by the throat pushing him to one of the available corners.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: What is Judasbleek thinking here?

Marc Gordon: I am not sure, but it doesn’t look good for Rath!

Judasbleek steps in and drives an elbow to the side of Rath's head. He repeats this a few times and then steps backwards several steps and flies back towards Rath executing a Flying Shoulder Block high on Rath's torso.

Marc Gordon: That looked like it decapitated Rath.

Judasbleek leans against the ropes and grabs Rath as he runs forward leaping up into the air executing a running, Cobra clutch bulldog on Rath. With his opponent lying face down, Judasbleek sits beside Rath, facing the same way, locks on the cobra clutch, and then arches his legs and back, bending Rath’s torso and neck upwards.

Marc Gordon: At this time I’ll like to remind you all at home this match goes on until one person stands down for a 10 count. Submitting your opponent or pin falls don’t apply here.

Judasbleek continues to arch his legs and back, bending Rath’s torso and neck upwards.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: I think Judasbleek is wearing down Rath so he can pull off something more high impact later on.

Judasbleek slams the face of Rath into the canvas with great force. Judasbleek picks Rath up to his feet. Judasbleek whips Rath to the corner, but Rath reverses it. Rath charges in, but Judasbleek grabs the top rope, jumps up, and pushes off, landing behind Rath. Seeing that Rath is beginning to turn, Judasbleek runs to the other corner. Rath follows right behind him in.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Judasbleek is running scared!

Marc Gordon: I'm not so certain about that.

Judasbleek quickly turns around facing Rath.  Judasbleek makes a punching motion, but tucks his hand towards his chest so that his elbow and forearm make contact. Judasbleek grabs Rath as he stumbles back and Irish whips Rath into ropes and attempts a Lethal Clothesline but Rath ducks under the clothesline he follows through and comes back at him as Rath attempts a clothesline of his own, Judasbleek ducks under the attempt and pulls up quickly he turns around and delivers a  Standing dropkick to Rath’s chin, Rath stumbles back stunned into the near corner and Judasbleek charges at him and attempts a Stinger Splash but Rath moves out of the way, Judasbleek however lands like a cat in the corner and as Rath turns around The Forgotten Son shows his amazing agility by landing a well place Super kick to Rath’s chin. Rath is on his back daze trying to gain his composer.

Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek walks over to one of the steel trash cans and grabs a Steel cooking sheet pan. As Rath comes to stand Judasbleek welcomes him with crowning shot to the top of his head. Rath falls down to one knee leaning on the second rope. Judasbleek approaches for another shot; Rath gets the better of Judasbleek using what he has left of his diminished speed. Rath begins firing lefts and rights as he stops turns and hits the ropes and Judasbleek drops down to charge as Rath sunset flips over him. Judasbleek stands straight up countering the sunset flip and then spins his body and drops down executing a standing leg drop on Rath. Judasbleek rolls to the side and stands up. He reaches down and drags Rath to his feet and slings him into the ropes and executes a Tilt a whirl back breaker.

Judasbleek stands up once again reaching down he lifts Rath to his feet once again.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Judasbleek has become calculative here by staying one step ahead.

Marc Gordon: He always has been Terry you just never give The Forgotten Son any credit.

Judasbleek grabs Rath and holds him up by his throat as he drags him to the ropes and lifts him up hoisting him onto the top rope climbing up behind him. Judasbleek climbs to the top rope and stands up pulling Rath up with him as they both begin exchanging blows. Judasbleek quickly executes a uppercut on Rath and grabs him by the waist and executes a Belly to belly suplex to the outside of the ring as he uses his legs and leaps up into the air. They both go sailing through the air and down hard onto the ring floor leaving the announcer stunned as they lay on the ground unmoving as Judasbleek is the first to begin to move.

Marc Gordon: Oh my God! Judasbleek is bringing the pain tonight. Belly to belly suplex onto the ring floor Rath is motionless.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Did they kill each other?

Marc Gordon: I am not sure, but Judasbleek is moving.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Look the referee is too stunned to even count.

Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek slowly gets to his feet shaking out the cobwebs as Rath slowly begins to move as well. Judasbleek as if on impulse reaches down and drags Rath to his feet and pulls him over to the ring and rolls him in as he follows suit. Judasbleek lays there just under the ropes regaining his breath as Rath is barely moving. They are both daze and confuse their eyes looking about. Judasbleek get to his feet bringing Rath along with him before Judasbleek can make his next move Rath drops down hitting Judasbleek with a low blow(DAMN!).Rath drapes his opponent over his shoulders in a fireman's carry position then falls backwards, driving Judasbleek down to the mat on his back. Rath picks Judasbleek up and takes him down with a Russian leg sweep. Rath gets up and steps through the ropes and onto the apron. He turns and waits for Judasbleek to stand.

Marc Gordon: Rath is planning something risky here.

Judasbleek stands up and Rath dives at him. He cuffs Judasbleek’s head on his way down and drops him with a Swinging Neckbreaker.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Judasbleek isn’t looking so tuff now is he Marc?
Both men lay flat on the mat barley moving. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Rath comes to stand and picks Judasbleek off the ground and throws Judasbleek thru the ropes and rolls out after him, he grabs him by the head and walks him over to the ring post, Rath pulls Judasbleek’s head back in an attempt to slam him into the post, Judasbleek blocks it and elbows Rath in the bridge of the nose, he then reverses it and slams Rath’s head into the post he and rolls Rath into the ring. Judasbleek looks underneath the ring and finds to his liking some tables and steel chairs. Judasbleek slides a table inside the ring leaving one outside also tosses two steel chairs inside the ring.

Judasbleek enters the ring to set up the table as he turns away from his now standing foe. Judasbleek turns around to be stun by a kick to the mid section. Rath grabs Judas and faces a standing opponent with one side of the ring immediately behind his opponent. Rath applies a front facelock to Judasbleek; takes hold of his opponent with his free hand, then lifts the opponent until he is nearly vertical. Rath then falls forward so that the torso of Judasbleek bounces off the top ring rope, and uses this momentum to quickly lift the opponent overhead once more and falls backwards, driving the back and shoulders of  Judasbleek thru the table, CRASH.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: The Reset Button! Thru the damn table, start counting ref.
Judasbleek a broken mess lays flat trying to gain the energy to move. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Rath stands as the fans start to rejoice at the site of Judasbleek broken body. Judasbleek starts to move. Rath “why won’t you just die already” Rath stomps Judasbleek to get him to stop moving but Judasbleek manages to get up to the second rope down on one knee. Rath after stepping off Judasbleek's raised knee with one foot, Rath swings his other leg and strikes Judasbleek's head with the side of his shin, Shining Wizard. Judasbleek face plants to the canvas as Rath stands up feeling the change in the match. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek crawls to the bottom rope and hangs there for a second to gain some stamina back.
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Judasbleek makes his way to the to the top ring rope. Rath waiting for Judasbleek to turn around as he does Rath jumps up and kicks his opponent with the soles of both feet, Rath twist as he jumps so that when his feet connect with the Judasbleek one foot is raised higher that the other and Judasbleek flips back over the ring ropes to the mat outside the ring on his side in front of the bottom of the ramp, Dropkick. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek with little energy gets up to his feet back facing the ring to break the count. Rath grabs a steel chair and Suicide dives with steel chair in hand. Judasbleek see’s the image of Rath flying in the air display on the Epicenter and side steps to the side and connects with a nasty Super Kick that Smacks the steel chair into the face of Rath.

The cheers come from the nBW crowd as they see Judasbleek using his surroundings to his advantage.

Marc Gordon: Rath is out flat across the ring floor dawning the unforgettable crimson mask.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: As Terry shakes his head “what the hell was he thinking”

Judasbleek taunts the nBW crowd by tapping his head with his index finger letting all the fans and wrestlers backstage know that he is smarter then all them. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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The nBW crowd starts to roar as something is going on the top of the Epicenter stage ramp.

Marc Gordon: What a minute Terry look

Benjamin Jones and Jupiter are standing at the top of the stage ramp.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Couldn’t come at a better time. Pay back is a bitch. Benjamin and Jupiter look at each other as if this plan has been in motion for sometime. The two wrestlers make there way down the ramp to confront the forgotten son.

The referee is distracted with the events at hand and slowly continues to count

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Judasbleek is exchanging blows with both Benjamin and Jupiter. Judasbleek steps back and hits    Benjamin with a Super kick. Jupiter ducks and helps Rath momentum by countering a serious Super kick; Jupiter hits Judasbleek with stiff DDT. Jupiter picks Rath up to break the ref’s count.

Marc Gordon: this isn’t fair two against one.

Terry 'Rents' Renton:  Blitzkrieg Rules! Baby it’s all fair. Judasbleek had to know he was going to pay the piper sooner or later coming into this match.

As a bloody Rath is leaning up against the steel steps, Benjamin comes to his feet holding his jaw. Jupiter picks Judasbleek up and tosses him into the ring and follows right along with. Benjamin grabs the steel chair off the ground and slides into the ring as well. Jupiter picks up a steel chair; They both stalk there pray as Judasbleek comes to a vertical base.

Terry 'Rents' Renton:  Yes! I have been waiting for this moment since Judasbleek got here. Security guy you being choke out shall not be in vane.

Both wrestlers swing at Judasbleek with there steel chairs. Judasbleek slips to the side as the clash of steel is heard threw out the center. Judasbleek waiting for one to turn,

Marc Gordon: Judasbleek countering here using them against one another.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Mother BLEEP

Marc Gordon: You don't like The Forgotten Son do you?

Terry 'Rents' Renton:  what do you think?

Jupiter turns to catch a Big Boot to the face, Benjamin tries to hit Judasbleek with a chair shot but Judasbleek ducks. Judasbleek ally-oops Benjamin into the air, He drops the chair as he comes down. Judasbleek turns around and in mid air catches him with a Stunner “Lights Out” (E.P Eleventh Plunder) Benjamin Jones is out cold.

nBW starts to chant

nBW
nBW
nBW
nBW

Jupiter comes to his feet as Judasbleek Irish Whips him into ropes. At this time Rath is entering the ring between the ropes. Rath is met by 300 lb man coming straight at him. Jupiter smacks right into Rath sending him flying back down to the ring floor. As Jupiter returns to the center ring. Judasbleek ally-oops Jupiter into the air, Jupiter as he comes down. Judasbleek turns around and in mid air catches him with a Stunner “Lights Out” (E.P Eleventh Plunder) Jupiter is out cold.

Marc Gordon: Judasbleek is on fire.

Terry 'Rents' Renton:  Fools! Can’t do anything right.

Rath is on the outside of the ring ropes. Judasbleek not letting the flame go out, Judasbleek Spears Rath thru the ropes both men land outside of the ring across the ring  floor. Judasbleek on his knees thinking of a sick master plan to end this match. Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek stands up and pulls the protective padding up to expose the concrete.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: What is this sick bastard doing?

Marc Gordon: Whatever he’s doing it can’t be good that’s for sure.

Judasbleek picks Rath off the floor and places him in a double arm DDT position over the expose concrete. Judasbleek picks him up over his shoulders, Rath wiggles free; Judasbleek drops Rath down to his feet. Judasbleek turns around and tries to  engage Rath, but Rath stops all of that with a boot to Judasbleek’s mid section, Rath wraps his arms around Judasbleek’s waist, Gutwrench Powerbomb on the exposed concrete. The crowd erupts and a frenzy.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Rath bloody and disoriented still pulled off a amazing counter.

Marc Gordon: Can The Forgotten Son stand tall before the referee gets to 10

Jerry Peterson starts to count

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Judasbleek crawls up along side the ring and stands up to break the count. Rath  jumps up and kicks forward with both feet in a pedaling motion with the foot that gets lifted second being extended fully to catch Judasbleek directly in the face but Judasbleek see’s it coming and ducks.

Judasbleek lands a boot to the gut of Rath and places him in a double arm DDT position once again over the expose concrete. Judasbleek looks into nBW crowd and shrugs his shoulders, flexing his muscle. Judasbleek picks him up over his shoulders, falls back driving Rath Sammarino’s head and neck into the CONCRETE. E.P.D (Eleventh Plague Driver)

Terry 'Rents' Renton is speechless

Marc Gordon: E.P.D ON THE EXPOSED CONCRETEnBW crowd is humbled by the actions that just happen. Rath is motionless as a puddle of blood forms around his head.  Jerry Peterson starts to count

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TEN!

Jerry Peterson Calls for the bell

DING
DING

Brent Williams: Ladies and Gentleman you winner via 10 count. The Forgotten Son
Judasbleek!


Marc Gordon:  Ladies and gentleman Judasbleek stands tall once again. The odds were stack against him. The Forgotten Son still comes out on top.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Benjamin Jones and Jupiter tried there best to run some interference but came up short and became victims to The Forgotten son.   

Judasbleek drops down to his knees and with his index finger dips his finger into Rath’s puddle of blood that form around his head and smears the letters T.F.S on the concrete.

Terry 'Rents' Renton: Playing in the blood of a fallen wrestler. What a sick S.O.B

Marc Gordon: Can we get some EMT’S down here please? Benjamin is out, Jupiter is out cold Who here in the nBW can stop  The Forgotten Son.

Judasbleek stands up taunts the nBW crowd and finally gets to the stop of the ramp and taunts the crowd some more The arena grows even louder as Animal I have become; Three Days Grace- is heard threw out the SCOTTRADE CENTER. The Epicenter double doors fly open as the EMT’s rushes down the ramp to aid Rath who hasn’t moved a muscle since Judasbleek hit that sick E.P.D on the expose concrete Judasbleek makes his way backstage. Embrace it or forever drown. Know this I’m the vine and you are the branch without me you will be noting!

THE PHONECALL

Feat.; 'Superstar' Vince Jacobs

Vince Jacobs sat in his dressing room on his long sofa. He was being fed a few grapes by two gorgeous Latinas who both had bodies to die for. The NBW World title lay across the table in front of the fruit basket. The ladies giggled as they fed Jacobs his grapes. It was definitely good to be the world champion. But tonight he had another huge obstacle to overcome. That would be the seven foot monster Spike Saunders one more time. This time it was for all the marbles. Vince’s world title and Spike’s newly won Keystone title.

One of the ladies grabbed a strawberry and was about to feed Vince the fruit when his cell phone started to ring. Jacobs looked at the lady next to him wearing a red dress.

“Sophia, can you grab that phone out of my jacket for me please.”

The hot Latina in the fire red dress got up showing how the dress fit tightly to her curvy body. She grabbed the phone and handed it to Vince. Jacobs smiled before he answered the phone.

“Hey, man.”

Jacobs stood to his feet as he listened. The two ladies sat on the sofa feeding each other grapes while they waited for Jacobs to finish his phone conversation.

“You know everyone fell for it man. They all believed that fan was actually you.”

I guess we now know who Vince Jacobs is talking to.

“You were right. The people in this company are so gullible. But I am sure you calling to wish me luck tonight.”

Jacobs paused to listen again.

“Yeah I know I don’t need it.”

Jacobs again listened as he turned to watch Sophia and Eva who was on the sofa still feeding each other fruit. Vince watched for a few seconds smiling.

“You and I both know that he couldn’t beat you and he can’t beat me. He was overmatched with you and he thinks that he can take down an Icon like me. He’s delusional and we know this but Spike’s not too bright, because he can’t figure it out himself. He wants to keep coming back to me like he tried with you.”

Jacobs paused again listening into the phone. He wanted to get back to the two beautiful women sitting on his sofa.

“Voss I don’t need a strategy against Spike. He’s big, dumb, and slow. Strategies are only made for people who actually have a fighting chance against me. This usually is not a lot of people. I know all six of his moves Voss so nothing will surprise me. He’s going down tonight and I will not have to deal with his childish antics and no drawing ability. Tonight I walk out of Pride as the World and Keystone champion and show everyone how inept Spike and this company are.”

The ladies cheer Vince after hearing about the two titles he was going to have tonight.

“And ladies will be celebrating all night long.”

The ladies threw Vince a wink as he smirked.

“Voss man I got to go. I go some hot chicas wanting to double stuff my burrito. Alright man, you take care. Later.”

Vince hung up the call on the cell and looked at the ladies.

“Sooo, where were we?”

Vince walked toward the sofa when he heard a knock at his door. He paused for second.

“Come in.”

In walked the man that would be refereeing the action tonight, High Flyer himself. Vince’s smirk went away as he sat down on the sofa in between the two women.

“What do you want Jack?”

High Flyer closed the door behind him. He knew it could get real ugly real fast between he and Jacobs and he was prepared for anything.

“I just wanted to let you know that I will be calling this match right down the middle. I am a man of my word and I will not let our past play a role in this match.”

Vince stood up to his feet as he looked at High Flyer.

“I hope so Jack because if we have a repeat of what happened last time we saw each other I am going to beat the holy hell out of you. I moved on to bigger and better things as you can see. So be fair and impartial and we won’t have any issues.”

High Flyer stuck out his hand to Jacobs as a gesture of good faith. Vince looked at his hand and then sat down with the ladies again.

“Let yourself out Jack.”

High Flyer turned toward the door and walked out not knowing how this night would turn out. Vince’s night was just beginning and he hopes it will end on the same high note that it started.

The Progidal Sons return

Feat.; For The Win

“Caaaaaaaaammmmmmmy…” called out Chris Noid as he and Tony walked the corridors looking for their valet. Or whatever she was to them.

“Biiiiiiiiiiig Tiiiiiiiiiiits.” Echoed Spark in response Noid’s own calls as they passed through the cafeteria and to the loading docks.

“hmmhmhmh” caught their ears as the muffled cries of their princess caused them to worry. Eyes shot to the center of the docks where high up in the air perched on a stool sat Cammy. Below her was the trailer end of a production truck and numerous tables stacked high.

“Whoa!” Noid called out in amazement as he saw the stacks of tables below her. “This is major. Like Gladiators major.”

“Glad you like it.”

Noid and Spark twisted to see two long since hopefully forgotten faces. The former NBW tag team of Myth and Legend.

Today was different from the past. No longer were they NBW branded and they came with new accessories, a pair of black and silver championship belts; the 4CW Tag Team Championships that they had recently won on 4CW’s show last weekend.

“You see, Mane and I, we had this idea-A nice one might I add. After seeing how you embarrassed us at SLAM Five with that ridiculous over-the-top match that could give Donkey Kong a run for its money, we have sought out a way to make it up to you. Ten fold.”

They gestured towards the towering tables and smacked their title belts on their waists. “So we present you with two choices. You can either A accept our challenge here and now and free your precious Cammy, or B, our favorite might I add, and that is turn around and walk away while we take the bitch for a ride she will never forget.”

Spark had already rushed towards the first row of tables and leapt up on top however Mane Miaate was quick to follow, sweeping his legs out from under him causing him to crash back down on the table.

“A it is then. Now I know we can not have a NBW sanctioned match with this short notice, however that is alright; Jack Briggs”, Mark called off to the side and – HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK – a tall African American  male in striped attire stepped out of the cab of the truck. “Our Referee courtesy of 4CW. Thanks to the jurisdiction that 4CW have a match per each aired show of NBW's, this will work out just fine. Oh, And Chris about that horn-“

Spark may have realized it but Noid was unaware up until Miaate picked him off the ground and tossed him shoulder first into the side of the table. While Tony watched this happen Mark leapt forward and clubbed him across the side of the face with the title.

“It Represented the official start of this match.”

And there you have it folks, the day the earth stood still. Mercury had waited less than a second before dropping his knee down on the red headed thriller’s chest, crushing his cavity while Miaate hurled Noid onto the table only to yank him right back off.

Up high sat the princess all alone.

Miaate met Noid with a fury of flying fists of well-fury, wishing to make quick work of these two and get Cammy to safety. Spark was not so lucky as he was blasted once, twice and six times in the face with repeated elbow strikes from Mercury.

Miaate caught Noid's arm and whipped him back into the table, dropkicking him in the chest for good measure to situate him on top.

I could tell you that this would end on a high note, just like all fairy tails except two things. First this is no fairy tell this is wrestling. Second the action is better.

Noid rolled off the table to avoid a diving knee from Mane, only to get a swift kick into the face instead. Spark rolled to his stomach covering the belt so upon Mercury turning him back around he blasted him in the chin, allowing him that shot to drive a foot to the knee and clocking him good on the face.

Chris caught Miaate in his arms and launched him up and over into the tables, nailing it head first to stumble right back into a step-up enziguiri. Noid called down to Spark whom was holding Mercury down with a leg vice on the neck. With it clear Chris started his ascent to the top. Stepping up on to the first level of tables, and crawling onto the second.

Mane was right behind him, grabbing his ankles from below and whipping them out from under him causing the kid to fall face first into the table. Miaate pulled himself up onto the nearest table and grabbed his downed body around the ribs, heaving his weight backwards but Noid held on and with one swift punch with his left arm, he caught Miaate off balance and caught him by the neck with his arm, maneuvered into place and GOURDBUSTER. Right through the damn table below.

Chris Noid stumbled back up to the second row and pulled his weight to the third. That last blow from Miaate had really knocked his senses crazy like.

The third row seemed less sturdy then the rest but the pyramid was steady thanks to all the tables stacked inwards and on the exterior. If he were to have been fighting for his life at the top it would look like the scene from the end of Jet Li’s The ONE.

On the fourth row of tables he was barely at the truck’s roof, but he could reach out to grab Cammy at long last. Walking slowly to the truck and lowering behind her stool to untie her hands. He raised her from the stool and called down to Tony. Spark planted his palm on Mark’s shoulder and gripped him tight before slamming him down to the concrete with The Last Man.

Their brief appreciation of success was short lived as Benjamin Jones and Ricky Strongbern, both of 4CW employee, started closing in on Tony. He quickly hopped the body and scrambled his way up the tables away from their grasp.

“Cammy, you alright? They do anything to you?”

She shook her head as her gag was removed.

“We will make them pay in the sacred ground of the ring, not this obstacle of theirs. You can bet on it.”

She nodded as tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Noid wiped them off and hugged her close as they surveyed the mess below.

WHAM! BAM!
Thank you Mamm

They never saw it coming. Or them.

Tremoid and Khan had climbed the opposite side of the trailer and rushed the two from behind with a spear on Noid and double axe-handle on Spark.

Khan scooped up Noid and raised him above his head before dropping him down on the trailer with a snapping suplex. Tremoid grabbed Spark’s arm and yanked him to his feet, twisting his arm around his own body to strangle Spark and proceeded to grab him by his waist with the other arm.

Khan pulled Noid back to a standing position and yanked him into his open arms before catapulting him up into the air to land down on his shoulders.

Khan Powerslammed Chris Noid off the side of the Trailer
Tremoid twisted and dropped Tony Spark off the side with his patent-pending Choke Drop.

With each cracking sound representing For The Win’s bodies as they collapsed down the four-stack high stack of tables clear down to the concrete below.

“You assholes!” Cammy screamed out as she kicked Khan from behind and slapped Tremoid across the face. Tremoid reacted and grabbed her by the throat and raised her above the now broken and damaged mess of tables. Effectively a 33 plus foot fall.

“Wait.” Coughed out Mark Mercury as he pulled himself to his feet down below. “Bring the tart back with us.”

Tremoid looked at her and released his grip on her throat. “You are one lucky bi-“-SPAT-

His face twisted and his right hand slammed against the side of her cheeks.

SMACK! “Fuck-You-Bitch!”
Before his left leg raised and the boot at the end collided with her chest as King Leonidas would have done.

And time slowed down.

His boot pushing her backwards.

Inch by inch.

Until.


She Fell.

Mercury put his hand to his head in shame. From their perspective there remained no signs of For The Win or Cammy; only stacked tables and one large gap in the center which was now filled with broken table debris.

He walked over to Miaate and pulled him to his feet, retrieving his half of the gold. “Let’s go.” Strongbern and Jones grabbed the arms of Mane Miaate and helped him as they walked around the trailer to be met by Briggs, Tremoid and Khan before they all continued out into the parking lot and far, far out of sight.

The camera crew dropped their camera equipment to the ground tilting the view as they rushed into the destructions to work to quickly check on the conditions of the two men and brave woman.

The silence in the crowd. The speechlessness of the announcers.

It all represented the same question.

Were they even Alive?

MYTH & LEGEND

A FORCED SMILE?

Feat.; Lunatic & Trent McKnight

After what was certainly a heart breaking loss to Max Hopper, Lunatic was seen walking through the corridors of the SCOTTRADE Center. The face paint that was applied was barely even reminiscent of how it had been seen during the evening’s opening bout. It was chipping away by the second with each step he took as he walked towards the building’s parking lot.

The only thing he had in his possession was a bottle of water, which he had just taken a swallow of. There was one other thing in his possession.

His smile.

Never deterred, the grimacing grin was ever apparent.

“Lunatic!” A voice called out. However the source of the voice hadn’t been seen. Lunatic continued his journey, ignoring the fact that someone was trying to garner his attention. “Lunatic!” The voice screamed yet another time. It seemed to be closer. Finally, Trent McKnight could be seen in the camera’s view. He was slightly behind and to the right of Lunatic. “Lunatic,” he said, “Mind if I have a word?”

Lunatic gave no response.

Trent tried to proceed with the interview regardless of the cooperation. “With your loss to Max Hopper, what’s next for Lunatic?”

Finally, there was somewhat of a response. Lunatic stopped dead in his tracks. This resulted in McKnight following suit. Slowly, Lunatic turned around and faced the interviewer. Lunatic bent his body forwards only slightly to bring his mouth closer to the microphone. No words came from the loony one. What was the only thing present?

His smile.

It only seemed to have been wider and brighter.

Receiving no response, McKnight said, “Lunatic, you just suffered a humiliating loss.” He took a short moment to follow up with his question. “Why are you smiling?”

SLAP~!

McKnight fell to the cold, stiff, concrete flooring below after Lunatic gave him an open palm to the side of his face.

“There’s ALWAYS’s something to smile about!” Lunatic shouted in glee. He began to chuckle.

Lunatic turned around and proceeded towards the parking lot.

John C. Willis was already standing in the ring, the giant receiving no entrance music or fanfare (a bit like the E-Fed Guerillas) while waiting for his opponent, Ali Amore, to arrive.  The sweet chimes and soothing voice of Dean Martin told everyone in the arena that Ali was on his way to ringside, which prompted Willis to bob his head from side to side and pump himself up. 

However, he was in for a surprise.  From out of nowhere, Ali had entered the ringside area via the crowd, jumping the guardrail and quicker than a heartbeat, was perched on the top rope.  His music stopped the second he landed a dropkick to the back of the beast’s noggin and the bell sounded to officially kick this contest off.

Immediately, Ali mounted the monster and wailed away at him with hard rights, the fans buzzing as Amore did it in his typically lightning-like fashion but even by his speedy standards, this was an early start, but necessary given Willis’ size and freakish strength.

Despite being pounded, John reinforced his power, pushing Ali off but the Colombian remained undeterred and not only let Willis get to his feet, but let him have it with two or three knife-edge chops and then a standing dropkick that sent the big man flying out of the rings, through the middle ropes and onto the floor.  The fans were firmly behind the Superstar of Bogota, but he was only looking forward and intent on not only entertaining them more…

BULLET TOPE!

Unlike Aero Star, Ali didn’t end up in the crowd but the added bonus of his trip directly through the ropes was that he’d sent the Indiana’s native’s noggin into the barricade, knocking him for 6 as Amore accepted the accolades bestowed on him by his fans with a graceful bow.  Notwithstanding, and Willis wasn’t, Ali wasn’t showboating for too long as he picked his opposition up and barely rolled him back underneath the bottom rope.

Ali entered in a more spectacular fashion, jumping up onto the apron and then elevating himself even further onto the top rope before scoring with a somersault legdrop and also attaining the first count, a respectable two, in the process. 

The South American was like a shark, he knew if he stopped moving forward there was a possibility he may die, and he once again called the ropes for some help, utilising an elbow drop to the head and then rebounding off the opposing set with a splash that landed…

1
2

Then, Ali was up again, this time going to the adjacent ropes but his quickness deserted him on this occasion as he attempted a crossbody but was met with open arms, literally, by John C. Willis who caught him in mid-air and was poised to convert this into a powerslam or launch his smaller opponent like a javelin, but Amore slipped out of the back door and while Willis was wondering where the foreign import had gone…
DDT!

Ali had kicked him in the stomach beforehand and taken a leaf out of Jake’s book.  Mind you, unlike the master, he wasn’t able to put the powerhouse away with it but Amore knew this and he was already looking at the bigger picture.  With Willis grounded, AA decided to go airborne and soon the fans were up on their feet too as the kid returned to the scene of the crime, where this match had started, up on the same turnbuckle and poised to polish off Willis, just like he had done to RaVage in the opening exchange at Slam 7 in the inaugural 10 to 1…

FROGSPLASH!

1

2

3.

No, it wasn’t the referee’s hand hitting the mat.

Ali’s knees repeatedly struck the canvas, reeling and holding his ribs as Willis had managed to raise his boulder-like knees to avoid a whitewash and squat the annoying fly.

It took a few seconds, but the ex-Spawned Terror was finally up and also finally allowed into the contest.  His toothless grin was enough to provoke a round of jeers and send a shiver through kids’ spines everywhere.  Make no mistake about it, Willis wanted to destroy Ali and was unquestionably capable of doing so.

As he picked the young pretender up, Willis noticed Amore was still nursing his ribs.  John immediately ushered in three stiff knees that would’ve made a normal man vomit on the spot, and then he backed the Bogota-born youngster up into a corner where he unloaded with a massive overhand chop that echoed throughout the arena.  You could almost feel it.

Willis leaned into Ali, using his big backside to crush Amore’s ribs twice.  He held his hands up as the official admonished him before doing it a third time, smiling at the referee as he did so.  Willis has never been one to respect the rules. 

Eventually, the big bastard gave Amore a brief breather, by removing his ‘cule’, though Willis wasn’t going to rest on his laurels.  Sure enough, he didn’t as he fired Amore into the turnbuckle across from them.  As Ali’s spine smacked the top turnbuckle on impact, you could see Willis lick his lips and things got even better for the predator when Ali wandered into his path, yet again, allowing the Kokomo Dragon to dictate and set a pace he preferred by using an energy-sapping…

Bearhug.

I’ll save you the boredom.  Basically, Willis had the hold on for 30 seconds and when the referee raised Amore’s hand twice; it magically stayed up at the third attempt.  Thereafter, Ali whacked Willis silly with an equally-basic bell clap and then made a run for it…

SIDEWALK SLAM!

Once again, Willis used Amore’s momentum against him and negotiated a 2-count.  Instinctively, the South American starlet rolled on his back, but that wasn’t such a smart move as the aggressor peppered his spinal chord with heavy shots.  If that wasn’t enough, when Amore was trying to get onto all fours (no sniggering please) Willis brought his entire 330-pound frame down on the slender kid’s lower back, not once, but twice.  A third time proved to be unlucky as Ali spun around and looked to counter it with a kick somewhere south of the border…

Luckily, the 6’7 brickhouse caught the Colombian’s leg and then set him up for a…

Slingshot!

Boy, I hate this spot, not as much as Ali mind, whose cranium crashed into the top turnbuckle, thankfully not the steel ringpost, and as he fell on his fanny (the American meaning, thank you very much) Willis tried his luck…

1
2
No!

Willis remonstrated with the referee, who protested his innocence while giving the Indiana Buffalo the peace sign.  It didn’t sit well with the volatile Willis, who chased the official out of the squared circle.

John picked the pretender up but Ali tried to cut him off with a kick.  Yet again, amazingly, the ex-Spawned Terror (JCW’s former ring name) was one step ahead of his brisker rival.  John wallowed in this, smiling at the South American, but Ali was in no mood to mess around.  Instead, he clocked the colossus with his free leg in the form of an Enziguri.

It was a great time for the referee to re-enter the battleground, given both participants were grounded, and begin counting.

The Indiana Buffalo made it to his feet first but his big-time right hand was blocked by Ali, who followed up with another effort shortly after, and a third rocking John’s head….

OOOH!

That, however, was the sound of Ali’s head being rocked.

You see, he’d made the mistake of trying to charge at John C. Willis again and ended up eating a size 17 boot for dinner.


1

2

Denied.

Willis showed his awesome power, hauling Amore up by his trunks, almost giving him a wedgie, but that was put to the back of the mind the moment John effortlessly elevated Ali more than seven feet in the air, holding the 4th emergency service (and he may need one of the other three) in the E-Fed Guerilla-press position…

Fortunately, while unlike Ali, the resourceful little bugger raked at the eyes, once again enabling him to slip out of Ryan Harms way.  Wills wasn’t still suffering and couldn’t see the Colombian, missing with a clothesline, which allowed Ali to counteract and punish the powerhouse with a lovely leg lariat.

Ali’s confidence was restored and he was able not only to push Willis back up into a corner but wail away at the former Fighting Zone champion with vicious shots to the ribs, hopefully softening them up for take 2 in the Frogsplash scene.  They were landing and you could hear not only them, but Ali as he exerted a lot of effort into hitting the beast with everything he had, who was now covering up.

Nevertheless, Ali’s Irish whip attempt was reversed but the roles weren’t as Ali, finally rediscovered his speed and agility advantage, moving out of the corner as the running Indiana Buffalo found nothing but steel ringpost, shoulder-first.

He was hung out to dry and clearly suffering.  Willis, whose upper body strength is phenomenal, was still clearly favouring his left shoulder as he finally managed to tear himself away from the post, only to be met by Ali, who raised his arm for him, though not to hand him the match or anything like that, but rather kick underneath there, around the armpit.  John was grimacing and he wanted to go back to the corner, like before, anywhere to get away from Amore with his shoulder in shoddy shape.

So, Ali had Willis back in the corner again and kicked the injured limb four times, each one appearing to be more aggressive than the last as John’s shoulder seriously seemed to be hanging.

But you know what they say about backing someone into a corner?

It’s true.

WHACK!

From somewhere downtown Nowhere, Willis, who’s naturally right-handed, put his free hand (fortunately, his strong one) to incredible use and his entire 330-pound frame behind a hammer blow that knocked Ali out in one foul swoop.

The crowd were stunned. 

Not as much as Ali, who fell like a tree after a lumberjack’s handiwork, and completely unconscious.

The official ran over to check on Ali while Willis sat down in the corner, trying to get his left limb working again.  Perhaps getting it checked out after victory would be a better idea and the beast eventually decided to follow this train of thought.  Nevertheless, the official tried to stop him, pleading with the beast to step back as Ali was still out for the count and could seriously be injured.  Of course, the referee’s argument fell on deaf ears as Willis shoved him aside and tried to scrape the starlet, literally motionless, up off the mat…

Or was he?

1

2

NO!

That was Ali’s idea of an inside cradle.  Had he been playing possum?

Willis was so livid he couldn’t see straight.  Actually, he could but he was a like a bull running into a crowd, gunning for anyone and he not only found his target but he hit it, Ali obviously, with a lariat that turned the kid inside out.

1

2-count.

John slapped the mat three times and held the same amount of fingers to clearly illustrate what he thought of the official’s count.  Expecting to carry on where he’d left off, Willis nonchalantly picked Ali up, though this time he was too slow in doing so and Ali exploited the slight delay by winding Willis’ arm up with a wringer and pulling down on the injured limb several times, so hard that he brought the behemoth to the canvas, yelling out in pain.  He was up on his feet quickly enough, though Ali still had control of his left arm and denied the big fell the opportunity to push him around, using the point of the elbow twice and then smacking Willis with the hardest chop he’d ever unleashed.

Willis didn’t go down.  That was only because Ali kept him up by refusing to relinquish his grip on that left arm, which he held to for dear life.  Whilst pushing him once again into a corner, and we know what happened last time, Ali continued to zone in on the affected shoulder, elbowing in again and then relentlessly re-introducing his right boot to John’s left shoulder, who hated each other upon sight.  He did it to such a degree, Willis could no longer protect himself and the referee threatened to disqualify Ali for ignoring  - and breaking – his obligatory 5-count.  Amore apologised and then went back to the task at hand, determined to inflict more pain and punishment on this powerhouse.

Just as John pulled himself up, Ali again used his ‘educated feet’ to score with a scissors kick to the shoulder, which had Willis right where he wanted him. 

Ali led Willis to the middle of the ring like a stunning girl would guide a smitten lad to the dancefloor or, preferably, the bedroom.  Except Ali’s moves differ.  Here, he didn’t plan to seduce John.  No, in this game it was pain, not pleasure, that brings you your kicks…

Single-Arm DDT.

John was rolling around on the floor until Ali stomped right on the shoulder.  Amore reassumed control and drove his knee into the tender body part not once, not twice, but thrice and then slapped on an arm bar for good measure.

Willis shouted ‘NO’ repeatedly in response to the referee’s questions of whether he wanted to give up or not.  He wouldn’t submit to this and within a short space of time, he was up on his feet, albeit by the assistance of Ali, while trying to grab the Superstar of Bogotá’s fine set of hair.  The referee warned Willis, though it was water off a duck’s back for Ali, who simply manoeuvred John into the corner and had the free will, pun intended, to do what he wanted to his opposite number’s shoulder.  He climbed to the second rope and then snapped back, returning to the well with a single-arm DDT, except making it more agonising before giving the leverage and momentum he had behind him, assisted by the ropes.

John sat up and grimaced in agony.  He was knocked back down as Ali built up a full head of steam and not only directed a dropkick at him while he was in a sitting position, but yes, you’ve guessed it, once again at the shoulder.

Willis cursed his opponent while turning onto his side, favouring the shoulder.  Amore looked down at him and brought down a double-axe across the upper arm and a vicious kick, which made Willis sit up again just to deal with the pain!

The audience reacted when Ali looked at them.  They were very much in support of the starlet and he had both the confidence and energy to scoop Willis up, after cleverly negotiating a hammerlock, and slam the 330-pound animal.  The move not only hurt Willis.  Remember, Ali’s back had taken some abuse earlier in the contest and he had his hand on that part of the body after lifting the heavy load.

Ali is never more at home than when he’s in the air and he decided to return to the top rope, prompting the fans to return to their feet, to see what he had in mind…

FROGSPLASH!

ON THE SHOULDER!

Willis couldn’t take much more and before Ali could try to pin the wounded animal, he screamed in agony as the official stepped in to separate the two and check on John’s condition.  One would think a separated shoulder could be possible given the punishment it had sustained.

There was a strange feeling emanating from the crowd.  Surely, they should be happy?

Ah…

WAR had appeared, rather like Ali had.  While the official asked Willis if he wanted to continue, William, chair in hand, slid underneath the bottom rope and nailed, I mean NAILED, Amore right in the back with a vile, vicious chair shot.  It echoed around the arena in St. Louis like someone had been shot.  Surprisingly, when the referee asked John if he wanted to continue, the Indiana native insisted he was ‘okay.’

As the referee turned round to see Amore sprawled out, he looked astonished.  He couldn’t see WAR, who was kneeling down at ringside with his head below the apron.  Everyone in the arena, except the man in the middle, knew he was there and they voiced their discontent.  Willis pounced and hooked a leg.  The referee hesitated at first, then upon hearing John’s assertive bark, bent down to begin a methodical count as the crowd joined in with him…

ONE…

TWO…

CHEER!

Ali HAD kicked out!

WAR cursed while Willis had his hands on his head, insistent that it was three.  The referee calmly replied:  “It was two, John.”  John looked down at William.  The pair of them was in disbelief. 

Neither of them knew what to do.  Willis elected to work on the back and it was amazing John hadn’t gone to the neck, the same part of the anatomy he’d injured at Slam 7, Amore’s last in-ring appearance.  Now, it was a different situation and he couldn’t see beyond the spine.  He lifted Ali up and scarily held him just above his head, locking the ribs with his huge hands, for what seemed to be an eternity.  Ali was vulnerable here…

Canadian Backbreaker.

John wasn’t from north of the border but he’d dropped Ali off south.

1

2

Th…

NO!

Willis was incredulous!

WAR was in the ring. 

The official spotted William just as he was about to raise the chair above his head and hit Amore out of the ballpark.  Willis shoved the official way and Reagan hit the home run anyway, right across the spine, as the fans disapproved of the disqualification.  They weren’t happy with the phoney finish.

The jeers were soon substituted by cheers.

Coming down the aisle, aided by an axe…

KEEGAN!

There was a pop for the returning fighter, who lost his career to WAR and Willis back on Slam 5 after they’d thrown him off the top of a steel cage.

Special K was moving gingerly.

Drew Miller and Kelvin Christie were not.  Full-pelt, they bolted down the ramp.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t catch Reagan or John C. Willis, who’d both high-tailed it out of the ring the moment they clapped eyes on the Cockney Colossus and the Caledonian Killer.

Meanwhile, Keegan slapped the hands of some fans in the front row and finally joined his three friends in the ring, Kelvin and Drew both holding the ropes open for the Englishman to enter to a wonderfully warm reception.

He waved to the crowd and then, upon seeing Ali, smiled and they hugged.  Unfortunately, the European was over-zealous and hugged his charge so hard that Amore squealed out in pain.  Don’t forget, he still had a back injury to spell.

K apologised immediately and Ali chuckled.  Then, it was him who instigated the hug, revealing his delight to see his mentor back in the mix.

That’s Amore, only appropriately, played to a round of applause from everyone and Ali was declared the winner by disqualification.

Keegan shook the hands of near and dear friends.  Inside the ring, he was surrounded by love.

However, for the two monsters outside, who stared back at him afraid and with disdain…

There was nothing but hate.

ALI AMORE

'When you're evil' by Voltaire set the tone.

It echoed throughout the arena as the lights dimmed, creating an eerie atmosphere as the tormentor of nbW made his entrance. If he was worried about the wrath of Callie Urban, having cost her a shot at the nbW World Heavyweight title, the only title in no Brand Wrestling she had yet to win, it didn’t show.

Torment walked to the ring, menace pouring off of him and ignored the jeers of the crowd as the lights rose and the masked man stepped into the ring.

Silence was left as the crowd and Torment waited for Callie Urban to storm out like a Valkyrie to try and take her vengeance.

Soul Kid No. 1’s 'More Bounce (In California)' started to play and the crowd rose to cheer but just as quickly the music cut. Before anyone could react, it struck up again, only... different. It was the same song but... polka?

A second later, Callie herself stepped out, dressed in leiderhosen and playing an accordion along with her entrance music.

The crowd was speechless and even Torment turned to the referee, gesturing at his opponent who was now outside the ring and giving the accordion to a little boy in the audience, chuckling as his father had to hold him up to support the weight of the instrument.

She hopped in the ring and the ref signaled for the bell.

DING
DING
DING

Torment moved toward her and Callie immediately fell back and landed on her butt as though she was scared off her feet. She held her hands up to the ref to beg for a moment and Torment paused.

Urban scrambled out of the ring and started running around it while doing jumping jacks. 

Torment soon lost patience and slid out of the ring himself. Callie saw him exit the ring and stopped, bending over to fish under the ring. Her opponent stalked toward her and rounded the corner, fist pulled and ready to fly.

Callie whirled around and slapped him across the head with a large, frozen, white tuna fish.

He staggered back from the blow and never saw Urban emptying a bag of marbles to scatter around his feet. When he regained his composure, he saw her sticking her tongue out at him, saw her turn to run. So he ran after her. At least he tried. Instead his feet slipped on the marbles and he landed, hard on his back on the arena floor.

Now enraged, he carefully got to his feet and turned around to chase after Urban. He saw her on the other side of the ring and gave chase, charging after her. When he rounded the corner again, he pulled up short, in utter confusion as he saw her juggling pineapples.

Callie dropped two of them, caught the third and actually cackled. Torment shook his head and went to catch her when she lined up, held the pineapple out and punted it, kicking it square into Torment’s family jewels. He cupped himself and landed on his knees, a kick from behind sent him sprawling face first on the arena floor.

He heard an odd noise, a springing hop, like someone was jumping on a small trampoline almost. He turned his head and saw Callie, inches away from his face, jumping up and down on a pogo stick. Before he could move, she jumped again, going forward, landing on his back and using it jump off of him.

The masked man rolled around in agony for several seconds before he pounded the pavement, further enraged. Getting to his feet again, he turned to look and saw that Callie was now in the ring.

He let out a roar and rolled back in, intent to tear her apart. She was crouched in a little ball, holding a blue plastic bucket to her chest. As he approached her, she whirled around to face him, grinning like a mad woman.

Reaching in, she pulled out a live squid and threw it at his face. The Cephalopod landed and attached its tentacles to Torment’s mask. Another squid flew and landed on top of his head, again latching on with its tentacles. A third squid landed and attached itself to his neck and Torment started to flail.

Callie kicked his feet out from under him and he fell backward on the mat, still desperately grabbing at the slimy creatures on his head to try and rip them off. He wasn’t even aware of a finger landing on his chest or the referee counting a ONE, TWO, THREE.

DING
DING
DING

The polka music played again and Callie Urban shrieked and sprinted out of the ring and backstage with her hands clasped tightly over her ears. The crowd sat stunned, not sure at all at what they just witnessed, watching two officials run into the ring to pry the squid off of Torment.

When the masked menace realized he’d lost, it took the entire security team running out to keep him from trying to rip the ring apart.

Not a lick of that match made any sort of sense and many people wondered if Callie Urban had a nervous breakdown. One thing was still for sure, even with all the insanity, Callie pulled out a win over Torment.

CALLIE URBAN

What Was That?

Feat.; Spike Saunders

Spike Saunders sat backstage in his final preparation stages; still stunned from what he just witnessed, his jaw hanging open as he watched the security guards continue to try and subdue Torment.

Leonard Antioch ran up to him, clipboard grasped tightly.

“Saunders! Mr. Boyle wants to know what the hell just happened on his show. What the heck is Callie doing?”

Spike shook his head slowly, still processing the craziness he’d just witnessed.

“Damned if I know man, damned if I know.”

INCIDENT OVER, STATEMENT SENT

Feat.; Ali Amore, Raul Salazar & El Dragon Loco

Ali Amore walked down the long corridor toward the food table as he had just been in one hell of a match with John C. Willis. He was tired and battered as anyone would be after being in the same ring as the former world champion. Ali made his way to the table and grabbed a bottled water before turning to his left to see Raul Salazar standing next to him eating a piece of pineapple.

“That was one hell of a match Mr. Amore. I like your style and I would be honored if you would let me represent you.”

Ali looked at Raul Salazar before speaking.

“No thank you. I have a great mentor and nothing will make me change that.”

Raul placed a hand on Amore’s shoulder before he could leave.

“You don’t understand what I can offer you son. I’m talking about money, women, and power. Something you didn’t have when you were NBW world champion because you let Thaddeus Boyle control you. I and EDL are out to make money and become the best. That’s what I can offer you. But that’s only if you are willing to make that leap and leave that albatross of Keegan behind.”

Raul’s smirk was quickly turned to a frown as Amore grabbed the manager by his throat.

“No one and I mean no one talks about Keegan like that. You may ha-- “

Before Ali could get the words out of his mouth he was attacked from behind by El Dragón Loco. The masked Mexican superstar drove vicious forearms into Amore’s back. EDL made sure that Salazar was okay as he moved his manager out of the way. Salazar looked at EDL and pointed to Amore.

“Consígalo. Hágalo paga por me tocar.”

EDL obliged as he went ballistic on the former NBW World champion with Salazar’s cane. EDL picked up Amore and drove him down into the food table with a tiger suplex. The masked man looked down at the broken table with food everywhere on the floor. He watched Amore who did not move. Raul smiled as he looked at the fallen Ali Amore.

“I gave you an opportunity Mr. Amore but you wanted to spit in my face. This man right here is the future of NBW and you; well you’re nothing but a footnote in NBW’s history.”

EDL still looking at Amore, never taking his eyes off the man.

“Los dije que iba a hacer mi presencia que sintió en NBW. Quise hacer una declaración. La semana pasada fue Depósito de alimentación Máx, esta semana que fue usted Amore. Digamos sólo declaración hecha.”

Raul tapped EDL on the shoulder as both men turned and walked down the hall as some NBW officials came in to help Amore from the rubble of the broken table.

Welcome to the Zone. While other athletes wrestle their hearts out for contention, championship and just plain outright acknowledgment from the fanbase; these two men were ready to Fight for the TFZ Championship. Champion Johannes started things off following his hard-fought string of defenses. JAC shook off Alexander’s earliest attempt at corralling the fighter from the Adriatic with a leg sweep to catch him off balance. AMP was quick to close out the distance. A series of jabs caught the champ and held him at bay in the corner.

No friend to the corner, JAC caught the eight shot and dove a headbutt into his opponent’s chest. He stepped his leg through Alexander’s and launched him into the structure. Without a second he raised his knee and lifted AMP right back into the steel once more. Caught on the rebound with a pressing faceplant to the mat. JAC dropped to the mat and mounted Pierre while then delivering a series of shots to the ribs, abs, solar plexus, chest cavity and the temple. Ensuring that any fight in AMP was shortly lived.

AMP stood at the six count, clutching his ribs and capturing JAC’s attention briefly. A shot to the abs followed by a stiff uppercut to the underside of his jaw floored the champion. Alexander drove his elbow into the temple of the Adriatic Gargoyle, grabbed his wings and whipped them backwards as he held him with the surfboard submission. A snap kick to the back of his head drove him back to the mat. AMP backed off to allow the count but got only a measly five count for his troubles.

Pierre rushed forward top drop the knee once more but JAC rolled to the side and swept his legs out from under him then drove his own boot to the chest of the Canadian fighter. Dropping his knee into the gut, raising the fist high and driving it down square into the side of his jaw. A second shot. And finally a third with a boot to the ribs for good measure.

He backed off and allowed the official to deliver the count but nine was all that was reached at this juncture. JAC yanked AMP back to his feet and slammed him up against the structure to rebound with a powerslam to the mat, but AMP locked in on the arm on the way down bringing him to a submission with an armbar. He wrenched back but JAC had already started to roll his weight, forcing his body over AMP’s. Neither man wished to give in and AMP used his feet to kick at the ribs.

He slammed his arm down to the mat and stood to his feet to wait for Johannes to return to his own where he met him with a left jab, right jab, left uppercut, grabbed his head and drove it down to his knee before snapping him back over his leg for the backbreaker. JAC dropped and the official counted him to eleven.

JAC ducked a swinging jab from Alexander and brought forward with his own series of lefts and rights once more. The Champion held his ground and showed AMP why he was still the champion. The man who had overcome the mountain of a man with sheer strength. He pulled AMP into his arms and twirled him to drop him down on both of his knees. Once standing the two once more were face to face.

Johannes, Left jab. AMP, left jab. JAC, left. AMP. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. PARRY-INTO-UPPERCUT! Johannes parried the left and retaliated with a powerful uppercut. The fans watched as the official continued the count and as AMP started to stir ‘FIFTHTEEN’ he called out and the bell rung.

Once more the champion was successful in his defense of the TFZ Championship. He tossed his arms up in the air and gleamed ear to ear as he exited the zone and made his walk back to the lockers. Once more a win in his dossier.

And STILL TFZ Champion, Johannes Antonious de Castanovo

STATEMENT OF FACT/WASTELAND

Feat.; Showtime & Dark Ninja

The camera cut to Marc Gordon, sitting at the broadcast booth with Terry "Rents" Renton, who was busying himself with a Rubik's cube.

Marc said, "Fans, over the past year, the nbW's Tag Team Division, perhaps its most celebrated division, has been an ongoing war between longtime former champions D-T and their arch-rivals, the champions, Dark Ninja and Psycho, the Dream Warriors.  Contenders have come and gone, but in all this time the spotlight never seems to have wavered from those four men.  Even as D-T mentored For The Win for their own title shot, it always seemed as though Dark Ninja's gaze was directed at D-T, whether he could admit it or not.  Now the day has finally arrived that D-T is getting their return shot at the titles... a match a year and a half in the making.  This week, D-T broke from their tradition of arriving late at nbW events in order to plan their strategies at an off-site 'strategy brunch' and have been sitting in the locker room since 11 AM today.  Our own Trent McKnight spoke with Showtime a little earlier."

The scene cut to earlier footage of Showtime sitting in the locker room in deep contemplation.  Trent McKnight stepped int frame and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Yah!  Don't scare me like that, Trent!  I was in deep contemplation, or did you not read the narration?"

"What narration?  What are you talking about?"

"Never mind, it's over your head.  What's on your mind?"

"On my mind??  Showtime, let me start by saying I'm a completely unbiased journalist."

"Okay," Showtime replied, "Then let me start by saying I'm Eleanor Roosevelt on a Go-kart.  Go on."

"What I'm saying is that you may not care for Dark Ninja's attitude, but he has always abided by the rules.  And as someone who respects the rules, I am frankly appalled at the way you obtaiend your title shot tonight.  Whether they wanted it or not, that title shot belonged to FTW, and it was not their call to pass it over to you.  That contract was non-transferable, like a bus transfer."

"Wait," Showtime interrupted, "Bus transfers are not transferable?  What's your point?"

"My point is that people shouldn't just be allowed to hand transfers over to their friends and let them ride the bus, it's against the rules."

"I don't take the bus."

"The bus is a metaphor!"

"A rather crappy one," Showtime noted.  He stood and put his hand on Trent's shoulder.  "Trent, you can tell I'm about to be serious, because I'm touching you, and you're so sleazy, so gross, that it's making my hand hurt, but I'm doing it anyway to make a point.  See, you may have great respect for Ninja because he 'follows the rules,' but those are rules he makes, and he makes them motivated by his own hatred for me.  And he did a good job following them, until he changed them.  See, that's what people don't know about being champion, you get a certain amount of power, just enough that you can avoid facing someone if you really try, even if they deserve a title shot.  And Ninja has used that power much more forcefully than I ever did.  But this isn't about the rules, this is about what's right.  And right now, what's right seems to be that D-T gets their title shot at DW." 
Showtime paused and a roar of approval went over the crowd. 

He continued, "I've been crowing for a year now about how the time was going to come when Dream Warriors would have to face us again in that ring, and even as I've watched other great teams get a chance to prove their worth, I knew we deserved a chance to show our skills again.  But I was willing to wait.  I was willing to play along, to climb the long climb, wait my turn, because I knew it was going to come eventually.  But I knew it was FTW's turn.  They have every right to be in that ring tonight against DW, and they've earned it.  But they gave their shot over to us.  I didn't plan it, I didn't suggest it, I didn't even know it was happening until it did.  Why, only they can say for sure, but if I had to guess?  Well, surely you've seen.  There are a lot of fans out there who still see D-T as the rightful holders of those belts, and there are a lot of fans who want to see D-T get one more shot to get them back before their time is done.  That's a statement of fact.  I suspect FTW falls in tat category.  That as deserving as their are of their own title shot, the thing they wanted was to see D-T fight DW one last time, and for that, I thank them.  So you say I didn't earn that title shot.  You say we took the easy route.  Maybe that's true.  But that just means we took the easy way in getting to the hardest match of our lives."

Showtime stared at the speechless Trent a moment before adding "That's just a statement of fact."

The camera cut to a shot of Marc Gordon and Terry "Rents" Renton at the announce table.  Rents had set his Rubik's cube aside, unsolved, and was pouting about it.

Gordon said, "That was Showtime, one half of the challengers for the nbW Dynasty Champions.  Next, we have a clip of the current champions, specifically Dark Ninja, the supposed Director of nbW, sharing his thoughts on the matter."

The scene dissolved to a room backstage.  The scene was dimly lit, showing Ninja shrouded in blackness lit by a single overhead lamp.  Mood lighting.  He sat on the floor in a corner, morosely.

"I understand sometimes my talent can be off-putting.  My skills, my artistic vision, go unappreciated by the masses.  It's okay, they have a right to boo me if they want.  But what I don't understand is why they should want to.  I mean... I'm brilliant!  I'm amazing!  I'm uber-talented!  I'm just an awesome guy.  And yet, the fans would rather cheer for a simplistic, moronic idiot like Showtime.  Do you know why I came to nbW?  Because when I saw the tag team division here, under Showtime's yoke, I saw a wasteland.  I saw grim, bitter reality suppressing the colorful, vibrant life force I could bring.  And I have brought that life-force and you idiots still boo me!  I mean, what the fuck, guys!  I've told you over and over again and now I just need to show you.  The Dream Warriors as nbW Tag Team champions?  That's happening."

The camera dissolved back to the arena, an overhead shot showing the crowd drawing silent in anticipation of the next match.

"Checkmate honey, beat ya at your own damn game!"

The opening lines of "Draw the Line" signified the arrival of the former nbW Dynasty Tag Champions, Showtime and Proteus.  The crowd erputed with cheers, but the challengers weren't their energetic usual selves.  They marched to the ring with purpose and determination reserved for the most important matches.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your nbW Dynasty Tag Team Match.  On their way to the ring, at a combined weight of 429 lbs, Showtime and Proteus... D-T!"

D-T stepped into the ring, unzipped their Team D-T jackets and tossed them aside.  The lights faded and spotlights flickered as the opening strains of Dokken's "Dream Warriors" hit.

I lie awake
and dread the lonely nights
I'm not alone...

Two ostentatious bursts of pyro lit a couple of torches at the entryway and the massive Psycho began a slow march to the ring.

When I close my eyes
I realize
It's coming my way!
I'm standing in the night alone...
FOREVER!

At this point, Psycho was standing at ringside and another pair of pyro blasts set the ring ablaze, lighting the way down the entrance.  Dressed in a breakaway tuxedo, Dark Ninja made his way from the backstage area as the fans expressed their opinions with vociferous boos.

Dream Warriors!
Don't Wanna Dream No More!
Dream Warriors!
Maybe Tonight You'll Be Gone!

The two of them stepped into the ring and held up their shiny gold belts.  Showtime and Proteus took no notice, and instead stared down their opponents.  Ninja tore his tuxedo off to reveal his wrestling attire.

"Their opponents, at a total combined weight of 561 lbs, they are the nbW Dynasty Tag Team Champinos, Dark Ninja and Psycho... The Dream Warriors!"

The lights faded back up.  Marc Gordon chimed in, "There is no better venue than nbW Pride for this long-awaited rematch.  The issues between the Dream Warriors and D-T is not just one about champions and challengers, about wins and losses.  It is about pain and sacrifice, and carrying those belts with the respect they've earned.  Many would say that the nbW Dynasty Tag titles are among the highest-respected belts in the industry because of Showtime and Proteus.  And Rents, you've got to know that that kills Dark Ninja to hear."

"You're damn right it kills him, Gordo.  No matter how many accomplishments Ninja racks up, people always seem to compare him to the goober with the braided hair."

The bell rang.  From across the ring, Showtime and Proteus stared each other down.  Both were in the ring.  The crowd was already stomping their feet in anticipation of the first movement.  Both stood their ground.  A long while passed and the two stood staring at one another.  Quickly, Dark Ninja tagged out to Psycho, who lept into the ring with surprising speed and ran across the ring to attack Showtime.  Showtime, however, managed to tag out in that instant to Proteus, who low-bridged Psycho over the top rope, launching himself over with a plancha right afterward.  The fans came alive as teh action got started.

On the outside of the ring, Proteus peppred the larger man with fists and feet as the referee counted.  He backed him against the apron with knee strikes, and managed to roll him into the ring as the ref's count got to six.

With Psycho in the ring, Proteus climbed to the top rope.  As he climbed, Psycho stood up.  Proteus came off the top with a cross body block but Psycho coundered into a Samoan drop position... but Proteus got the roll-up!

One...




No, Psycho kicked out at one and a half.  Psycho slowly got to his feet as Proteus rushed to meet him.  Proteus dodged a big boot from Psycho, rebounding with a back elbow smash that barely staggered the big man.

"Psycho has a unique position in this room full of much smaller but much quicker men," Gordon noted.

"Yeah, and his hair is cool too."

Proteus executed a jumping front kick to the head on Psycho, which only made him woozy.  Proteus hit a standing dropkick that sent Psycho off the ropes.  Proteus rebounded with a drop toe hold and attempt to trap Psycho in a camel clutch, which was met with wild approval from the audience, who booed as Psycho powered his way out and backed Proteus into a neutral corner. 

As Psycho took a big swinging punch, Proteus ducked and pulled Psycho's head into the turnbuckle.  Proteus dropkicked the big man into the padded corner face-first and flipped over to guillotine his throat on the ropes, sending him backward.  From the outside, he climbed to the top rope again and hit a flying knee drop.

Proteus rolled through to his home corner and tagged in Showtime.  Things started to heat up.  Psycho was still on the mat, so the challengers hit a double team move where Showtime hit a flyign elbow from the top ehile Proteus nailed a slingshot legdrop across Psycho's throat.

The ref put Protues back in the corner as Showtime began to kick at the downed Psycho.  He worked his arm and shoulder, then pulled him to his feet.  Showtime whipped Psycho and stunned him on the rebound with a spuinning back kick.  He didn't fall back down, so Showtime whipped him again, this time coming off with a spuinning headscissors into a cover.

ONE...



TWO-- no, barely one and three quarters.


Showtime tagged Proteus back in and held his leg in place.  Proteus ran off the ropes and hit a baseball slide intp Psycho's ankle agianst the ringpost.  The ref pushed Showtime back intro the corner, but Proteus tagged him back in.  Showtime climbed the rope again, but Psycho shoved Proteus out of the way, and as Showtime came off the top with a hurracanrana, Psycho countered with a mid-air spine buster bomb!

You could hear the whole audience go "Ohhh!"

Psycho dragged Showtime over to the DW corner and tagged in Ninja.  Ninja used the ropes as leverage to choke Showtime.  Psycho set Showtime up on the top rope and Ninja hit him with a top rope monkey flip.  He covered...

ONE...




TWO...



No, not much of a cover.


Ninja tagged Psycho back in.  Psycho set Showtime up on his shoulders and Ninja stood on the top rope and came off with a clothesline in tribute to a certain spiky-shouldered tag team from the 80's!

But he missed!  Showtime slipped off Psycho's ropes with a corkscrew armdrag!  Dark Ninja clotheslines air as the legal man was down on the mat.  Showtime was dazed and confused but ready to capitalize when Dark Ninja came from behind with a neckbreaker.

Both men went down as the ref sengt Ninja back to the corner.  Once there, the ref started to count.

TWO...

THREE...

Showtime showed moment.

FOUR...

FIVE...

Psycho began to stir.

SIX...

SEVEN...

Showtime began to crawl to the D-T corner.  The fans began to clap in encouragement and Proteus reached over the rope...

EIGHT...

Psycho grabbed Showtime and hit him with a massive german suplex!

The force send Showtime backward with such power that he hit the back of his head on the DW turnbuckle!

Psycho came charging in with a running knee strike, then tagged in Ninja.

Showtime was in bad shape.  Dark Ninja was capitalizing with cheap stikes and flashy moves like a back handspring low kick.  He stood Showtime up in the corner and then took him down with a bulldog.  He covered...


ONE...



TWO...




NO!  The fans went wild!  Showtime was not finished yet!

Dark Ninja's face was visibly annoyed, even under his mask.  He headed for the top rope...



NINJA STAR SPLASH!

"This devastating move could mean the end!" Rents declared gleefully..

"Very true, although you don't need to get so excited about it," Gordon replied.

ONE...





TWO...




THR-- no!  No, Proteus zipped across the ring in time to break the cover.  Always a hazard in tag team wrestling.

Dark Ninja pounded the mat in frustration.  He tagged in Psycho, who caught Proteus on his way back to D-T corner.  Proteus threw a high kick, but Psycho caught his legs in a slingshot, and sent him flipping over the top rope.  Psycho seemed satisfied with this,  but Ninja yelled some sort of command to him, and Psycho shrugged in compliance and hurled himself over the top rope to the fallen Proteus!

A mild but considerable "Holy Shit!" chant started.  Both men were down and out on the outside.

Dark Ninja picked Showtime up..

Director's Cut-- countered!

Showtime hit Ninja with a T-Bone suplex!  He headed to the top rope...

Final Curtain-- NO!!  Dark Ninja rolled out of the way.

Showtime was down on the mat, and Ninja capitalized with...

The World's.

Longest.

Rear Chin Lock.

It was insane.  Like, at first, it just seemed like a rest hold.  Then you wondered if Ninja just had no idea what to do next.  Then you thought maybe you should go and take a pee so you can come back when something interesting was happening, but it lasted so long that fi you did, it would still be going on.  It was seriously, a Guinness Book-worthy hold.  And why?  Why bring the tone of the match to a grinding halt?

Control.  Dark Ninja exercised a level of control that was completely unstoppable.  And by God he held that chin lock as long as anybody could possibly go before he finally brought Showtime to his feet and whipped him against the ropes.

On the first rebound, Dark Ninja jumped up, and Showtime somersaulted under and kept going.

On the second, Ninja went low and Showtime leaped over and did a cartwheel to the rope, and again, kept going.

On the third, Showtime passed him by and stopped abruptly, hitting him with a shot back elbow.  And while Ninja was dazed, Showtime came off the ropes again with a Lou Thesz Press!

Indeed, the time for pretty moves had passed.  Showtime now wanted nothing more than to beat the hell out of his enemy.  And he did beat... until the monster returned, and Psycho returned to the ring to pull Showtime off his partner.

Showtime was briefly foolish enough to trade blows with Psycho, but he couldn't win that contest.

PSYCHOBOMB!

Ninja got to his knees, kneeling over the fallen Showtime.  "Again!" you could hear him yell.

PSYCHOBOMB!

"We've seen this," Gordon groaned, "Dark Ninja is aiming to end this with deadly force."

Showtime was down and Psycho was still standing.  Ninja was about ready to get to his feet.  "AGAIN AGAIN!" he yelled.

Psycho pulled Showtime up..

Hurracanrana!

The move sent Psycho neck-first into the ropes, where he was prone to a SHINING WIZARD from Proteus!

Dark Ninja rushed over and knocked Proteus back down to the floor with a lariat!

Showtime spun Dark Ninja around for a Standing O-- No, Ninja countered it with a legsweep--

No, Showtime backflipped through in-- --VATION!

ONE...





TWO...





THREE!!


The bell rang.  The fans went absolutely ballistic!

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners... and NEW nbW Dynasty Champions, Showtime and Proteus... D-T!"

A breathless, exhausted D-T stood in the ring as the referee handed them the belts they hadn't held since 2009.  2011 was going to be a watershed year for the veteran champions.  Showtime panted exhaustedly, overwhelmed with delight at being a deserving 2-time champion.

The camera turned over to Dark Ninja whose eyes were just starting to flutter open.  You could see bitter resentment in his gaze.

The camera faded out to...

And NEW Dynasty Tag Team Champions
D-T

NBW TALK

Feat.; Trent Mcknight, 'Superstar' Vince Jacobs & Spike Saunders

The fans cheered as the NBW Tron lit up to show a close up of Trent McKnight with microphone in hand.

“We are just moments away from the sure to be epic battle that will be woven into the history books. Joining me at this time is the Champion whom will be defending tonight in the Main Event in the Winner Takes All-Champion Versus Champion bout. He is the World Champion, the Superstar Vince Jacobs. “The camera panned to the right to show SVJ as he snarled towards the camera before grinning at the sudden outpour of boos and jeers directed towards him.

“We are also joined tonight by another champion, his opponent, defending the Keystone Championship, the Colossus, Spike Saunders.” The camera pulled back to get the full seven foot three figure in frame as the fans cheered and Saunders smiled back in response to the well-received ovation.

“Now gentlemen, you can separate each other’s heads from their shoulders later. Now however is a special edition of NBW Talk.” He was zoomed out from to have the three all in the shot at this time. Off to the side you could see Michael O’Dell along with a squadron of security personnel on the ready.

“Let us just get started then shall we? Vince, tonight you defend the World Heavyweight Championship that you fought to earn at Ten To One.  Prior to Ten to One NBW was hardly aware of your existence up until you revealed the truth to us all. My question for you is why Voss? Why did you chose to mask yourself as JLV, our former Religious Rasslin’ Champion?”

“Trent, first off don’t disrespect a close personal friend of mine in Voss. I would shove that microphone down your throat if it wasn’t for me defending my title. And you don’t get to call me Vince. You may call me YOUR GOD or the Icon, hell call me the man that saved NBW from financial bankruptcy. But to answer your question it was just a game at first. That’s right, Voss and I played this big peon right here in front of me.”

Jacobs adjusted the World title on his shoulder before speaking again.

“Voss and I made a bet to see how gullible Spike was. Let’s just say that Voss won because I didn’t believe that any one person could be that gullible. Voss was done with this place for the record. After the volcano eruption he decided that NBW was not the place for him so we devised the JLV fan scenario. But we both didn’t think it would lead me to holding the top prize in NBW.” Jacobs smirked.

“Interesting outlook. You did manage to make it quite far in such a short time. Arguably future Hall of Fame material in NBW as well.” He turned from Vince and looked up at the giant. “Spike, you knew all along that Voss was long gone, even before taking that trip around the world. So why did you go forward with this whole chase on the infamous JLV Fan?”

“To tell you the truth, I was duped. At first; that Volcano erupting and causing all the travel issues had us all legit worried for Voss’s safety. Legit Trent.”

“It was a scary time not only for NBW but for the world.”

“Exactly”, responded Saunders. “So when I caught him in the audience not so long ago, I figured he was playing us all this time. And yet he never once showed up, never once answered our calls. Instead we got this buffoon, yet another ego-driven athlete that puts himself before the fans.”

“It worked. Your numbskull brain never attributed to the fact that it was not Voss behind his own mask.” Vince chuckled. “I mean really, why would he have worn a mask of his own face?”

“You were the only person hell-bent on believing that JLV was behind his own mask. Everybody in the company didn’t believe that JLV was here but Spike Saunders had to get his revenge and look what it got him. Not getting his hands on JLV but getting his ass whooped over and over again by the Icon himself, Vince Jacobs.”

“Still-“ broke in Trent only to be interrupted.

“Shut it Jacobs. I know Voss left us hanging. He stole the Keystone championship for his own collection. He had no intent in defending the championship after SLAM’s inaugural episode when I was stripped of this championship” he pointed to the Keystone resting over his shoulder. “But here we are again. This time it is rightfully mine.”

“That is the truth Saunders. You won it in that massive Battle Royale. But it was close. We nearly saw 4CW’s Tremoid and Khan take the gold.”

“Nearly. Khan made his decision with his self-elimination. It was a wrong decision. And one day soon he will have to come to terms with his actions. I will gladly put this on the line on SLAM after I beat SVJ here and take it all back to where it belongs; the fans.”

Cheap pop for cheers.

SVJ faked like he was yawning.

“Hah! You and I both know that will not be the case. I have you scouted from every direction. Your six move set is easily memorized, and I already have shown you that your SPIKED maneuver has way too many holes to exploit. On the other hand I can nail my Superstar Kick at any moment. Even when you least expect it. There is no warming up of the band with this Superstar.”

“Vince, even you have your openings. You may have scouted me, and been parading around as the masked version of Voss. But even the JLV Fan was not around when I was competing in the FWO, or the WWR. Even over-seas in your old home of All-Star Wrestling. When it comes down to it, all I need to do is catch that foot of yours and yank you up over my shoulders before being driven to your deathbed. As the lights go out and the barely audible sounds rang through your ears, you will know it. The fans will know it. The whole world will know it. A new World Champion will be crowned.”

“Vince, would you like to retort-“

“Thud-“ voiced Spike as he stomped the ground. “Thud-“ and a second. “Thud.” With the third for good measure.

“You really think you have what it takes to keep my shoulders to the mat for the three count. When it comes to stopping you all I need to do is lay a helpless fan in your path. Or snap that bitch of yours’ neck, what was the name again, Urban, yeah her. Or maybe a Superstar Kick right into your testicles so that not only will I be the new World and Keystone Champion, but I will have made you not only figuratively, but physically MY BITCH! Remember Spike I am the stepping stone in this business. I have faced and retired guys with way more talent than you. So trust me when I say this and I will say it slow so even you can understand it. YOU.ARE.OUT.OF.YOUR.LEAGUE!!”

Saunders shot forward, but O’Dell and his security force were ready and grabbed the Colossus to hold him still. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" chirped SVJ.

Spike laughed which got a scowl from the Superstar. "What's so funny now? That empty head of yours not understand what I said?" Jacobs smiled but Spike seemed to be enjoying himself: "Well?"

He grinned and pulled the mic close from Trent: "Nothing much. Just thinking about an earlier conversation with Callie. If not for Torment she would have kicked your ass from St. Louis clear to Athens, Greece. That's all."

Jacobs smirked. “Trust me Spike, if Callie was ever in the ring with me I would definitely make her into a real women. She would want this sausage instead of the taco she is drawn to now.”

Spike was offended as he rushed toward to Vince again but Jacobs responded this time by sending a quick slap into the Giant's face before security jumped into the fray and quickly pulled them apart before any harm could be done.

“As this interview is getting rather heated I think it is time to draw it to a close. I wish you both luck tonight, and Gordon, Renton, back to you.”

Trent ducked between the two and off camera as SVJ and Saunders were held back by the various personnel that made up NBW’s security.

The boiling point had been reached and it was about to blow.

This next match up is the main event of the evening and it’s a Champion versus Champion winner takes all match for the NBW World Heavyweight and NBW Keystone Championships. There was a big issue with this match though. With these two men you needed a tough hard-nosed referee to call it right down the middle and that man was…

ALL ABOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD~! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Better to light a metric shitload of pyro than curse the Prince of Darkness.

CUE UP: Crazy Train by Ozzie Osbourne

As the shadowy figures stepped out onto the ramp way through the fog, the crowd near-unanimously erupted in cheers. The man threw back his green and black hair before throwing up his right arm in a defiant devil horn taunt, and green pyro exploded all around them as snow began to lightly fall indoors in St. Louis.

Only High Flyer, the special guest referee could make this happen. Nodding grimly, he made his way down to ringside wearing his official NBW stripped referee shirt. The former NBW World Champion slapped a few of the fans’ hands as he rolled into the rind. He hopped onto the second rope and held his arms in the air once more as the crowd gave their approval. High Flyer was back in the NBW and the fans were ecstatic. However, the green haired man was not in an NBW ring to compete he was there to call a big time match right down the middle.

Renton: Why is this fool here? They could have got someone else to referee this match.

Gordon: Like who?

Renton: I don’t know maybe someone impartial.

Gordon: You don’t think Flyer will be impartial?

Renton: Hmmm… Let’s see. He is best friends with Spike and has a well-documented hate-hate relationship with our world champion, Vince Jacobs. So what do you think?

Gordon: I think Flyer will call it right down the middle.

Renton: {sigh} I see us crowning Spike Saunders a double champion. Odds are against SVJ tonight.

Gordon: You say that like it’s a bad thing.

The crowd died down a little as Flyer stood in the middle of the ring waiting for the two men that will be battling for the right to go down in NBW history as only the second man to ever hold the World and Keystone titles simultaneously.

It wasn’t long before the ever familiar “Spike-It-UP!” replaced Crazy Train. Instantly, the crowd went back into frenzy as the colossal Spike Saunders made his way to the stage holding the Keystone Championship high in the air.

Spike was walking down the aisle at a much faster pace than normal. He was calm and confident. This is the match he waited weeks for. He finally was going to get his hands on Vince Jacobs again and possibly become world champion. This was the third and final match between these two men. SVJ was already up two wins on the giant but Spike was ready for this one. It was time for Spike to show the world that SVJ was nothing more than a JLV clone and he already dispatched of JLV. Spike entered the ring after stepping over the top rope. Spike held the Keystone title in the air once more as the fans continued to cheer. I am sure their throats will be sore after this one.

Spike shook Flyer’s hand before handing him the Keystone championship.

The ever-familiar voice of the Icon echoed throughout the arena.

And NEW Keystone AND WORLD Champion; Superstar Vince Jacobs