[The screen plunges into darkness, and there is a very low sound of cheering fans and the opening riffs of "Blackened" by a pre-sellout Metallica begin to play on top of them. The darkness disappears, replaced by blue-tinted footage of a wrestling ring. Then, clips from old LWA shows begin to play. A deep, ominous voiceover accompanies the tape.]

[The image of the LWA logo vanishes in a firey explosion, replaced by the grinning face of Marcus "The Reaper" Ash. His face fades, and the ghostly forms of wrestlers slide in from the left and right sides of the screen... Red Zachary, looking sufficiently crazy, with a flag in hand... Drake Raynor... The Canadian party animal, Hoser... Eric Extreme and Paco... and finally a larger than life image of Archangel covers over them all. From his waist, the image of the OWF title expands until it fills the entire screen.]

[The screen shows a few clips of OWF Legend Reed Rothchild as he parades around the ring with his Tuna and beats the living piss out of many an opponent. As Blackened continues in the background, this is slowly replaced by the Underworld Wrestling Syndicate logo. Underneath, a statement appears in simple script.]

[The scene is St. Johns Newfoundland and cuts to show Hoser staggering out of a bar somewhere on George Street. He looks around and smiles as he sees a number of very busty university girls bouncing across the street.]

Hoser: Ahhh...St. Titties, breast capital of the world. Shit...I am going to be late for the show...

[Suddenly a number of screaming and irate prostitutes charge from an alleyway like wilddogs targeting in on the Canadian icon.]

Hoser: AHHH!!! Get away from me you fat bearded bitches!!!

[Hoser runs off as the scene changes to... live images from the arena. The sound of the cheering fans gets louder and louder.]

["Heartbreaker" by Dread Zeppelin begins to play, and always well coifed Ryan Lockheart walks through the entrance curtain, dressed in an imaculate tuxedo. He smiles his all-American smile at the fans as he takes his position in the ring. A ring attendant quickly hands him a microphone.]

[Suddenly "Mary Jane's Last Dance" by Tom Petty begins to echo over the sound system. Pictures of an amazingly sensuous female silhouette flash across the Syni-tron. The, step by step, Aspen Sandstrum, the OWF ring announcer and very beautiful and voluptuous brunette makes her way to the ring. She wears a glimmer blue dress that perfectly shows off her large cleavage and a body that would make any man cry. Her blue eyes pulse through the crowd as she slowly bends beneath the ropes to a hurrah of cheers from the arenas horny young perverts. She smiles and stands in the middle of the ring next to Ryan Lockheart.]

[Ryan looks at Aspen and gives her a smile. She smiles back, and gives him a very coy wink. Ryan lifts up his own mic, and addresses the unruly crowd.]

Lockheart: Ladies and gentlemen of St. John's, Newfoundland... WELCOME TO UWS BLACKENED!

[Lockheart pauses while the roar of the fans dies down.]

Lockheart: It gives me great pleasure at this time to introduce the LWA announce team... Johnny Gallivan and Jim "The Killer" Browski!

[Gallivan and Browski start walking the aisle towards the ring. Johnny Gallivan is wearing a nice suit, but Jim Browski is wearing brown slacks and a beige T-shirt with the words, "Lawler is a Pedophile" on the front. They accept decent applause from the crowd, and seat themselves at one of the two tables at ringside.]

Gallivan: Wow, I can't believe we are back, after all this time.

Jim: It hasn't been that long.

Gallivan: Sure we did duty on the LWA's last show, Ghosts of the Past, but this time the fed is active again. We've got a bi-weekly gig, bringing you fans at home the best wrestling action known to man.

Jim: I see the time off hasn't diminished your cheery attitude.

Gallivan: Nope.

Jim: You're fat, you know that?

Gallivan: What?

Jim: You're a big fatty. You used to be thin, but now you've let yourself go. Man, what a big fat, fatty, fat-headed fatty fat.

Gallivan: Jim, is this really necessary?

Jim: Nope, not in the least.

Gallivan: Then let's skip it, shall we? What did you think about that video package to start the show? An abbreviated history of the LWA World Title.

Jim: It wasn't very abbreviated. That thing had to be 20 minutes long!

[Aspen Sandstrum raises her microphone.]

Aspen: And now let me introduce the official OWF commentators, Dutch McCoy and Grumpy Richard Edison!!

["Zoot Suit Riot" by the cherry poppin daddies begins to play as the fans to go wild to see the gruesome twosome back again. First through the entrance curtain is Dutch McCoy, a smile a mile wide hidden somewhere beneath his gigantic white mustache and still dressed in a foolish colonial hat. Behind him, half contrary, is Grumpy Richard Edison, an older man still dressed in yesterdays business suit and hair that probably hasn't been combed in a week. The two make their way to their desk and after a quick sarcastic wave from Grumpy to Browski, they sit down.]

Dutch: Welcome fans to OWF Onslaught! We have returned!

Grumpy: Liptin Jesus...haven't you been paying any attention the past few months. This isn't the OWF anymore and this sure as hell isn't onslaught.

[A blank look comes over the already foolish face of Dutch.]

Grumpy: Listen...the OWF and LWA are the same company now...

[No change in Dutch's look.]

Grumpy: This is the UWS, and the show is called blackened...am I getting through to you at all?!

Dutch: Yes...I believe you are.

Grumpy: Hmp...

Dutch: Ok fans, like I said, welcome back to OWF Onsla...

Grumpy: UWS BLACKENED!!!!!!!!!

Dutch: What the hell are you balling about!?

Grumpy: For Christ sakes! It's a different fed!! This isn't the OWF!!

[There is once again another completely blank look upon Dutch's face.]

Grumpy: Jesus I can see this is going to be a long night.

Dutch: Well fans, I think my partner...

Grumpy: I am not your damn partner...hmp...

Dutch: ...is going through some sort of a crisis here so I will have to go ahead and continue. Anyway, it has been way too long. And finally Marcus Ash is back where he belongs...

Grumpy: When was he arrested?

Dutch: What...no, he is back in charge of a wrestling fed. The President is back!

[The show cuts backstage in a very spartan office. The "Magnificent Bastard" Craig Lassiter is standing in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the bowtie on his tuxedo. Beside him, Marcus "The Reaper" Ash is adjusting his cufflinks in front of a smaller mirror on the desk. There is a half full bottle of 18-year-old Glenfiddich on the desk, an equally half full bottle of Captain Morgan dark rum, and two glasses.]

Reaper: Nearly ready?

Lassiter: You better believe it. Dennis DeYoung said it best. "Tonight's the night we make history."

Reaper: I can't wait to see the reaction of those FHW suits when they see who we've brought onboard the UWS. It's almost criminal.

[The two of them start laughing.]

Lassiter: You can't wait? I can't wait to hear their reaction when I announce the main event for tonight.

Reaper: What are you talking about? It's my match, so I'll announce it.

Lassiter: (he turns to stare at Ash) Your match? How do you figure that? Both guys are LWA wrestlers, so that makes it my match.

Reaper: Uh uh, Smiley. I've got an OWF Title match ready to go for tonight's main event. Beat that.

[Craig pulls a sheet of paper from his jacket, and shows it to Ash. The names are too far away to be seen by the camera.]

Reaper: So what? I still say my match is better than yours.

Lassiter: I'll tell you what. Why don't we flip for it?

Reaper: Ok.

[Craig fumbles around his pockets, eventually producing a coin. He tosses it, and calls it in the air.]

Lassiter: Heads.

[The coin drops to the floor, and both men look down at it. Craig Lassiter smiles and retrieves the coin.]

Lassiter: I guess I'll go out and announce MY main event.

[Craig walks out, leaving Ash to stew. Ash sits down in the corner and picks up the bottle of Glenfiddich, eyeing the label. Shaking his head, he puts it down, and pours up a generous helping from the bottle of Captain Morgan. He rips off his cufflinks and takes a swig without any mix. The camera fades just as a thousand and one bad words begin to echo.]

[The show cuts back to ringside, where the fans are getting restless. Then, "Supernaut" by Black Sabbath begins to play as a tuxedo-clad Craig Lassiter makes his way to the ring. Once there, he grabs a microphone from the LWA announce table, and carefully climbs into the ring. He waits a few seconds for the fans to quiet down.]

Lassiter: Man, I've been waiting far too long for this. Welcome, one and all to the Underworld Wrestling Syndicate's first show... UWS BLACKENED!!!

[The crowd cheers once again.]

Lassiter: In case you don't know, I'm the President of the LWA Division, Craig Lassiter. Some of you may know me from my old wrestling name, "Bad News" Leroy Brown. Well, my wrestling career may be almost over, but my promoting career has just begun. And, along with Marcus "The Reaper" Ash, we are going to bring you people everything that FHW couldn't. Everybody said we couldn't do it. Everybody said that the LWA and OWF deserved to stay buried. Well, I'm standing in this ring right now to prove everybody wrong. Tonight, Chaos returns!

[A sudden blasting of static erupts over the massive speakers as the lights dim and soon the solemn words of Nirvana's "Lake of Fire" begin to echo...]

[Suddenly another blast of static triggers a very familiar voice which speaks simply..."Lets Dance...", as a Gunshot sounds bringing to life the disturbing sounds of Marilyn Manson's "AntiChrist Superstar". The fans explode as the pictures of a hand of poker cards, three 8s and two aces, Dead mans Hand, shimmers over the Reapertron and is replaced by pictures of strip clubs, bar room brawls, the anatomy of a shotgun and the gleaming black hull of a 1969 Dodge Charger 426 hemi. A pulsing gray and black light begins flickering wildly around the crowd and then, step by step, two dirty black boots caress the stage followed by the duster wearing, long haired, unshaven smug face of the one and only Marcus "The Reaper" Ash. His eyes hid by his silver sunglasses as in one hand he holds his finest double barrel shot gun while gambling away his life in the smoke of a sweet Cuban cigar. His arrogant face erupts into a slick smile as he stares around the arena, the crowd administering his self-proclaimed godhood, or more correctly, anti-godhood. Every chant from the crowd brings Reaper closer and closer to the ring, until finally he leaps upon the apron, steps through the ropes, and stand like a god in the middle, his arms stretched high, and the roar around him seemingly making him a deity. He lowers his arms and reaches for a mike, steadily smiling as he paces around the ring in anticipation. Craig Lassiter begins rolling his eyes and Ash smiles at him.]

Lassiter: What the hell happened to your cufflinks?

Reaper: Hell man I ain't gay.

[Lassiter looks down and realizes how ridiculous he actually looks.]

Reaper: Welcome to Dance with the Reaper!! So Mr. Lassiter, are you finished warming them up for me? Good. It is at this point that every single one of you people in the stands are apart of history. History of a fed, of a new beginning...of the evolution of wrestling. Some might say, its even the dark side of Wrestling...so how did this come to be. Well, a long time ago, there was a small fed called the LWA...and from that fed a very important thing...something that changed the world of wrestling forever...me.

Lassiter: COUGH...Idiot...COUGH

Reaper: It was then that I took wrestling to new heights when I introduced the supreme realm of sports entertainment, a new kind of match...the dance with the reaper matches. It was this ingenuity that led to the personification of extreme wrestling in a federation...The OWF. The OWF was a place of chaos, it was a place where the most aggressive wrestler could meet his match with a simple nobody and why? Because unlike other feds, feds like the NWC, feds the FHW, and most importantly, the LWA...ah...FHW..., it was feds like those that kept the little guy down and didn't give him a chance. I mean come on, who the fuck except the Reaper would put a guy called Jimmy "The Fan" in a championship match?

Grumpy: Fucken Fan...Hmp...

Dutch: It's a wonder Reaper didn't kill Jimmy and the rest of the contestants in that tower match. I don't think he was doing anybody a favor by having them there in the first place.

Grumpy: If Jimmy the fan was stupid enough to enter that tower, he deserved what he got.

Dutch: But you have to admit, Ash is right about one thing, the OWF was certainly a place where the underdog could get ahead.

Grumpy: Albeit in the most brutal matches known to man.

Dutch: Albert who?

Grumpy: Idiot...

[Suddenly Dutch slowly begins to raise his finger to his nose, but after what appears to be a shock, he lowers it. Grumpy looks at him in amazement.]

Lassiter: Ok, Whoopdee doo, Jimmy the fart, whatever. You may think that the OWF was the greatest thing since sliced bread, but without the LWA, the OWF would have never existed. So, before you go blowing your own horn, don't forget who born ye.

Jim: For once, I'm agreeing with Leroy.

Gallivan: Actually, he prefers to be called Craig Lassiter now, Jim.

Jim: So?

Gallivan: Well, the OWF may have been entertaining, but it doesn't have the history that the LWA has. Face it, the OWF comes second to the LWA.

Jim: Hey, I think you're forgetting the big picture.

Gallivan: And that is?

Jim: They are both superior to FHW.

Lassiter: Ok, enough sibling rivalry. Regardless of what we have been, from here on out, we are united. Before we announce the action that you guys are in for, Marcus and I have a little something to show you. As you might know, I'm still an FHW contracted wrestler, and I'm due to wrestle for the FHW World Title later this month. Well...

Reaper: Shut up Craig, and show the footage.

Lassiter: Ok, hit it!

[The brand spanking new Syni-tron lights up, showing shaky handheld video footage of what appears to be a fans-eye view of an FHW wrestling show.]

[The tape shows the FHW ring, where Craig Lassiter is slumped in one of the corners. The Frost Giant, Ymir is standing on the apron, waiting patiently.]

Fred Estridge: What's he doing here? We've got mayhem to watch!

[Lassiter drops to the canvas and rolls out of the ring. Just as Ymir is about to follow him, he grabs a microphone from ringside, and rolls back into the ring.]

Fred Estridge: Security!

Peter Roberts: Shut up, Fred. Let's at least hear what he's got to say. Lassiter looks pretty serious in there.

[Craig brings up the mic, then hesitates.]

Lassiter: Behold, the glory of Ragnarok!

[The fans immediately start to boo him, and Craig just shakes his head.]

Lassiter: Ok, enough of this crap. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present Tom Brody.

[he points to Ymir]

Peter Roberts: Huh?

Lassiter: He's no frost giant, as I'm sure you all realize. Tom here was a part-time bouncer, part-time country music bass player until I convinced him to come to FHW. He's just a regular guy, and I'm no prophet of the apocalypse. Ragnarok was just another invention of a bunch of suits and a few three-martini lunches.

[Lassiter hoists the FHW title over his shoulder, which is still in his possession, then just looks at it for a few seconds.]

Lassiter: I've been in FHW on and off now for quite a while. Course, you wouldn't know it. Whenever somebody talks about the legends of FHW, they talk about Archangel, Crusader, Legacy, Tremere... hell, even Scorpion! But my name is never mentioned amongst such illustrious company. I've always considered FHW to be my second home, but to everyone here, I'm just an outsider. I've seen the guys in the back who travel to the show together. They joke around, talk about the past, present and future. But me, I travel alone. I may travel with fat men in tight belly shirts, or lonely librarians, or hippies, or silent giants. But really, I travel alone. Nobody in this company ever offered to take me in, or made an effort to know me.

[He begins pacing around the ring, slowly. The derision from the fans has quieted as he continues.]

Lassiter: Maybe it was my fault; waving my LWA banner, disrespecting FHW veterans, and defying convention. But I've never been one to follow the crowd. I don't come to the ring to fireworks just because everybody else does. I don't attack those weaker than me to show how tough I can be. I don't force people to sign contracts under duress; which, by the way, is never legally binding. And I can honestly say that I've never kidnapped anybody. Call me old-fashioned, but that kind of crap just doesn't do it for me.

Peter Roberts: Well, make no wonder he hasn't enjoyed his stay in FHW.

Lassiter: Mine was an old-school view of the game. Thunderdome rules... two men enter, one man leaves. Two men, facing off, testing their mettle against each other. One man victorious, one man defeated. I fail to see the point of pulling teeth, or cutting off toes, or embarrassing someone just for the sake of it. In my world, it was the action that went on in between these ropes that mattered. What you will see on the 27th, will be a battle of strength, wit, and skill, pitting two men against each other. Tumbler will step into the ring against me and only me. Forget the insults, forget the gold, forget the crowd, just focus on the contest. Me, I leave my demons in the ring, because I couldn't handle bringing them home with me, and I've got the empty scotch bottle collection to prove it.

Fred Estridge: Is he retiring?

Peter Roberts: It sure sounds like it. Either that, or running for president of the wrestlers union.

Lassiter: FHW just isn't what I want it to be anymore. Some may call me a coward, some may say I can't handle the competition. But, regardless of whether I'm winning or losing, this business is supposed to be fun, at least at some basic level. And I'm not having fun anymore. So, Adam Todd, a great competitor by the way, gets the privilege of being my last ever opponent in this ring. You knew you had a tough match ahead of you, champ, but it just got a whole hell of a lot tougher.

Fred Estridge: I guess we were right.

Lassiter: Whether it's been as "Bad News" Leroy Brown, Craig Lassiter, or my brief stint as Jungleman Jake, I've come to the end of my career. He looks down at the belt once more.

Lassiter: Despite what I've said about FHW, this belt still represents some amazing champions, and even more amazing contests. And on the 27th, at the unfortunately titled, "Shit Happens II", I will become part of that illustrious group who can call themselves "champ". The PPV match will be my swansong, my one shot at redemption. You people won't ever be able to take that away from me. After what I'm about to do, FHW officials can strip me of the belt, they can destroy the videotape of the match, and they can remove my name from the record books... but I will still be an FHW Champion.

Peter Roberts: After what I'm about to do? What's he on about?

Lassiter: Yes, I gave FHW my all, and what did I get in return? Scorn... derision... and apathy. Pepper, you better believe that I'm done as a member of the FHW talent roster after the 27th. My wrestling career may soon be over, but I've got another career ahead of me; that of wrestling promoter. FHW broke my sprit. It stole my body and my heart, so in return, I'm going to take away everything. Ragnarok may have been a stupid gimmick to get me on TV, but the end of the Firk is no fantasy. You see, FHW has had it too easy as of late... no competition. But that will all change very soon. You see, I've been in touch with an old friend. A sick sumbitch, much like myself, and he's been watching this dog and pony show for months now, and he's as sick of it as I am. Ladies and gentlemen, "The Reaper" Marcus Ash.

[As calmly as he said the name, Craig sweeps his arm out towards the crowd. Then as if summoned through a whiff of his own cigar smoke, the bad man, "The Reaper" Marcus Ash, emerges his smug unshaven, duster wearing, self from the crowd and rolls into the ring. He smiles at the crowd before reaching out his arms and spinning foolishly.]

Fred Estridge: Dammit! I said wherever Krav is, Ash isn't far behind! Didn't I tell ya!

Peter Roberts: Calm down, Fred.

Reaper: Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girl, cocks and tits of all sizes, welcome to Dance with the Reaper!!!

Fred Estridge: Lord Jesus...

Peter Roberts: I told you to calm down.

Fred Estridge: I AM CALM!

Reaper: That's right, that's right, dance with the reaper, except this time, you are not going to see two bitter old torn up hags beating the piss out of each other in attempts to rape the other guys dead mother, oh no, this time, you really do have a problem. Reason being, there isn't a man back there who can take us out of this ring. So whoever the fuck is in charge of this place, hell, I’ve lost track... it would be best for you to just sit back and watch, cause problems with the reaper always escalate into things that most people can't handle.

Lassiter: That's right!

Reaper: Preach the power brother lassiter... I know you believe!

[Craig smiles before giving a rude fan the finger.]

Reaper: Smiley since day one this fed has been a sham... it has. Daemon Krav, the darkest and most demented son of a bitch to ever grace this fed, has never had a fucking title shot! Instead, it's awarded to those backstage that President whoever has decided would look better. They don't give belts to people like me, or Lassiter, or Krav... no, we work too hard for this business. Hell, this business has literally destroyed Daemon Krav, yet he has nothing to show for it. Instead, you have these well do to assholes show up with their fireworks and theatrics like cutting off peoples anatomy, and then they were giving the spotlight... because it became all a show... all a game. The FHW fears people like us!!! Why!! Because we are not lackeys who can be told how to wrestle, no... WE ARE WRESTLING!! Over half these shitheads in the back are only here for the money and for that reason and that reason alone, their lack of compunction, their lack of will for the sport, management gives them the high spots, and not those who work for it.

Lassiter: You better believe it. There are wrestlers who have company parking spaces in this place who don't know who Lou Thesz is, let alone "Better than Jesus" Gary Frat. FHW has become a victim of its own success, and has languished in mediocrity. And when they need to spice things up, instead of hiring talent that can get it done in the ring, they hire more misfits who like to dress up weird and skin people alive. That kind of stuff just doesn't belong in the wrestling business. I'm not saying it's too extreme, I'm just saying it's stupid as shit! It doesn't take a human chessmaster to hit someone with a sledgehammer, then feed them their dead grandma.

Reaper: I implore you to take a look at some old FHW tapes... now, just look at the people who can actually wrestle... did they ever get to the top? Some of them did, but when they did it cost them, it cost them big time. It took Crusader years to reach the top of this fed... but when somebody came in and starting cutting off anatomy, what was it... weeks? FHW is as rotten as an old whore's cunt, and it has been too long since somebody has been around to insure a base of comparison. But that is what happens when there is no competition, the fans get used to living in shit.

[The fans in the arena are tossing trash and plastic bottles into the ring. Ash and Craig are playfully batting them away, as they begin to look like they're having fun in there.]

Fred Estridge: Are we going to let these morons tear up FHW like that? In our own ring, no less?

Reaper: Just sit and think for a moment... what if... what if the LWA were still around? What if the FHW had to compete on a regular basis, not only for ratings... but for roster and respect. What about my precious OWF, what if we were still running wild? When I originally opened up both the feds top stars immediately jumped ship to join with a fed with real wrestling. What would happen if the world were to spawn say... an Anti-FHW?

[Ash smiles as a silence comes over the arena.]

Reaper: Well smiley... in a few short days the story of ragnarok will truly unfold, and the end of the FHW will begin. In a few short days... Marcus Ash will bring you...

[Craig hits him on the shoulder.]

Reaper: Ash and Lassiter will bring you, that Anti-FHW. We are going to drop a bomb right in the middle of this ring. That’s right baby, OWF, LWA, we are going underground, because in a few short days those feds will merge and the Underworld Wrestling Syndicate will climb out of the womb, and greet the world with a shotgun.

Lassiter: The OWF and LWA united, one fed, under "God-knows-what", indivisible, with chaos and hellfire for all! So, when we start transmitting next week, all you FHW fans will know where to look... because we are on in the exact same timeslot as this piece of dreck. Oh, and if FHW wants their World Title back, well they'll just have to come to the LWA/OWF, because I'm taking it with me!

Reaper: OWF/LWA.

Lassiter: Whatever.

Reaper: UWS actually.

Lassiter: Fuck off. Once I beat Tumbler, then this title is going home for good. And when I say home, I mean the UWS arena! And no one, and I mean no one, can stop us...

[The lights suddenly dim.]

Lassiter: FHW can’t even hire a lighting crew that knows when to cue our exit! HA!

[Silence fills the arena, anticipation seems to vibrate from the crowd, as a sudden look of unease covers Lassiter's face, and Ash simply looks on with a typical smug grin. Suddenly the arena is rocked with a blasting chord...]

[As more garbage litters the ring, the two of them carefully climb out of the ring, and begin making their way out of the arena; Craig still holding out the belt, and Ash still pointing the shotgun.]

[The Syni-tron goes dead, and a wild round of applause erupts from the crowd.Craig Lassiter is smiling and playfully shadowboxing with one of the ring turnbuckles. Marcus Ash, however, looks a little less enthused.]

Reaper: That clip played too long.

Lassiter: So?

Reaper: We are on a schedule, remember... Jungleman Jake.

[Craig Lassiter just grins and goes back to his shadowboxing.]

Reaper: Ok, ok, enough nostalgia, lets light this bitch up. Ladies and Gentlemen, before the OWF last went off the air, and before we left a number of wrestlers stranded in Halifax, Nova Scotia with no way home, or no show to compete at, there was a short attempt at reinventing the OWF. Ok, so it didn't work. That son of a bitch Kincaid had to come in and ruin everything.

Dutch: I should point out that there are a number of wrestlers missing after that incident.

Grumpy: What was that? Back there?

Dutch: What was what?

Grumpy: Back there with the nose?

Dutch: Shhhh, Reaper is talking.

Reaper: You two bones heads finished?

[Dutch waves to Reaper as both Grumpy and Ash shake their heads.]

Reaper: Should've fired him...anyway, as I was saying, there was a show, and on that show was the OWF's version of the gauntlet.

Dutch: And much better version.

Grumpy: They both sucked.

Reaper: Dutch you interrupt me again down there and I will staple that colonial hat to your nut sack and hold a heritage yard sale...now fuck off!

Lassiter: Calm down Ash, my god he can't help if he has a few extra chromosomes.

Grumpy: HA! Chromosomes, like that's really a word.

[Lassiter laughs it off but a Jason Vorhees like look from Ash shuts him up. He nods back to him with a more professional look. ]

Reaper: Fuck this sentimental shit, before that show ended we had two number one contenders for the World title that was being held by none other than Archangel.

[A horde of cheers comes from the half drunk St. Johns crowd.]

Reaper: But, since one of those individuals, Drake Raynor, has gone missing...then we had to go with the other one. So tonight, in his first ever title defense, The OWF World Champion will defend his title against the one and only HOSER!!!

[The fans go nuts and chants of "Take off" begin to echo.]

Reaper: That's right, and the winner of that match will become the new UWS-OWF Division Champion!!!

Dutch: My god!!!! Ben van iten is back!!!! J W Oswald doesn't stand a chance!!!!

Grumpy: What the fuck are you babbling about!?!?!

Lassiter: Alright, that's well and good, but if I can interrupt Marcus, it's time for me to announce tonight's Main Event! So let's get down to some business, and a bit of a history lesson. When the LWA folded up shop way back when, my brother Johnny Lassiter owned the LWA license. So, a heck of a lot of pestering, and a few loosely-worded contracts later, and he's given me permission to give the LWA another chance. Of course, that means that we have to advertise The Beast...

[Craig pauses, and looks out at the crowd before continuing in a monotone voice.]

Lassiter: ...the world's greatest wrestling news magazine...

[Immediately, the fans start to boo and laugh. A few "you sold out" chants start up in the crowd.]

Lassiter: Alright, shut it! With that out of the way. Now, the last LWA show was "Ghosts of the Past", and although I wasn't part of it, I have to say that one good thing came out of it. As you fans saw on that terrific video montage at the opening of the show, it was an incredible contest, and when all was said and done Lee Todd stood triumphant.

Gallivan: Ghosts of the Past was an amazing show, and Lee was definitely the best man in the arena on that night.

Lassiter: I have to say that Lee Todd is a great wrestler, so it is my great privilege to announce that Lee Todd is the first man officially signed to the LWA Division!

[Craig waits for a reaction from the crowd, but gets nothing. Ignoring this, he continues.]

Lassiter: But, fans of the LWA may remember another man who held the original LWA Heavyweight Title, and that man never lost that belt. So tonight, on our very first show, we will be having the biggest main event in LWA history! Yes, that's right. LWA/Beast Heavyweight Champion, Lee F'n' Todd will face off against LWA Heavyweight Champion, "The Threat" Shane Brandon in a unification match!!! Both titles will be retired, and tonight on this very show, we will crown a brand new UWS-LWA Division champion!

[Despite negative reactions to both wrestlers' names, the crowd cheers at the announcement of the title match.]

Gallivan: Wow, talk about a major match to start off the LWA's rebirth.

Jim: You better believe it, Gallivan. Not only do we steal FHW's biggest wrestler, Lee Todd, but we've also re-signed The Threat. These two are going to tear this house down tonight. I don't think the Reaper's match will even hold a candle to it.

Grumpy: Candle my arse.

Dutch: I agree, Browski had no right to say that. I personally believe the OWF match will be very dominant here. After all, we have an angel fighting in the ring tonight.

Grumpy: First off, Archangel is not a real angel.

Dutch: Sure he is.

Grumpy: No he isn't!

Dutch: But he has caught people on fire and he flew a few years ago.

Grumpy: Well...I can't explain the fire thing, but he didn't fly! He jumped off the tower!! There is a difference he bonehead! Hmp!

Dutch: Well either way, neither of those matches are going to live up to Ben Van Iten vs JW Oswald.

Grumpy: Stop it...stop it now! What the fuck are you talking about!

Dutch: You heard the man! Stop pestering with me!!

Grumpy: My god somebody shoot me...

[Grumpy notices Ash is still in the ring and chances are his shotgun is with him.]

Grumpy: God I hope he didn't hear me.

Lassiter: Now do you believe that the LWA and OWF are here to stay? Enjoy the show, and remember... FHW sucks!

[An "FHW sucks" chant starts going through the crowd, and Craig Lassiter leaves the ring with a big smile on his face.]

Reaper: In the meantime, we can't have a wrestling show without wrestling...now, tonight, we had a massive first match planned...it was going to be Freddy Morgan!!

[The fans cheer for the name of one of their favorite alcoholics. A chant of "Sheppard" begins to echo leaving many people except for a select few, very confused.]

Reaper: Taking on BEN VAN ITEN!!!

[The crowd goes ballistic with the announcement of the NWC legend. Dutch nearly goes into convulsions he is that excited.]

Dutch: BLUBILY! M...Hm...Me god, I told ya!!! Humf...I told the world!!!

Grumpy: Hey!

Dutch: Whata..haga...what!

Grumpy: You know what your doctor said about getting over excited...you might have another heart attack! Hmm...actually...Look BEN VAN ITEN is coming over to talk to you...and he has fourteen playboy bunnies!!!

[Dutch jumps to his feet is pure glee. He looks around with a wild look in his eyes that actually scares Grumpy]

Grumpy: MY GOD THE DEVIL'S IN HIM!!! LOOK INTO DEM EYES!!!

Reaper: Seun...where are you...go over and get that child molester back in his seat.

[The sexiest man over 700 pounds and resident ringside enforcer stuffs that last half of a giant cupcake into his mouth and slammers towards Dutch who immediately sits down and begins to cry.]

Grumpy: HAHA...your bladders that bad they got you pissing through your eyelids.

Jim: Who, or what the hell is that thing?

Gallivan: I've been told that it's definitely a "he", and it's definitely Seun.

Jim: What does he do?

Gallivan: Ring security.

Jim: Oh. (adjusting his shirt) So, that means I can say whatever the hell I want tonight, and that big tubba bubba will protect me?

Gallivan: I guess so.

Jim: Gooooooood.

Reaper: Well unfortunately Freddy Morgan went on a bender this weekend and they haven't seen him since, and well, BVI hasn't returned any of my calls and now there is some small thing about a lawsuit, slander and a stalker...but nothing serious...point is the match won't happen.

[The fans begin booing Ash heavily.]

Reaper: HEY!!! I tried my best, its not my fault ITEN's dogs can run faster than me...well...(Taps something in his duster, probably his shotgun)...hehe...not any more.

Dutch: MY GOD I CAN SEE A TUNNEL OF BRIGHT LIGHT!!

Grumpy: That's not bright light, that's the reflection off your nose.

Reaper: So, we had to settle with the next best thing, an SWWF legend taking on an LWA legend.

[Ash throws the mic down and leaves with the arena paused in anticipation...]

Aspen: Coming to the ring, hailing from Tokyo Japan!! Weighing in at 290lbs!!!

Dutch: Who is it, I can't wait to see!!

Grumpy: What happened to that tunnel of light?

Dutch: I think my relatives were waiting for me and when they realized it wasn't my older brother Roger on his way, they slammed the gates in my face.

Grumpy: HA! Someone is going to hell!!

Dutch: I doubt it; I got relatives down there too.

Aspen: He is the Japanesse mad man!! Dasher Ufung!!!

[The fans are at a total loss of words. "The Bizaar" by the tea party begins to play as the Japanese mad man, Dasher Ufung, complete in his white wrestling shorts and a demented look in his eye, makes his way to the ring ready for a fight. ]

Grumpy: Hmp...Dasher fucking Ufung, where the jesus did they find him too, I thought he went down with the SWWF.

Aspen: And his opponent, being accompanied to the ring by George and hailing from the mountains of Tibet!!!

[Suddenly "Greet the sacred Cow" by primus begins to play.]

Grumpy: My god...tell me they didn't hire on his man.

Aspen: Weighting in at 232lbs, he is "Better than Jesus" Gary Frat!!!!!

Jim: Gary Frat!? He's an LWA wrestler, what's he doing wrestling for the OWF?

Gallivan: Shut up, Jim. We aren't supposed to talk over the OWF commentary.

Jim: Screw that. I'll talk whenever I want. And if you don't like it, talk to my new fat buddy, Seun.

[The monster George leads the legendary one himself to the ring. Gary Frat stops and smirks to the crowd and shows off his shirt that says, "Better than Jesus". George, complete in his loincloth and maul, looks strangely at the commentators before returning to BTJ's side.]

Grumpy: Ok...that was disturbing.

Dutch: My god I can't believe it!! LWA legend Gary Frat has arrived!!!

Grumpy: Don't call him a legend!! He has never won a match in his life!! Not to mention he was eliminated from the OWF gauntlet in what...7 seconds!! Hmp!!

Dutch: He is a legend to me...

Grumpy: I bet.

Dutch: What is that supposed to mean?

Grumpy: Simple, it means you're a fag.

Dutch: A what!

Grumpy: A fag! A bum dicker!! A turb Burglar!! A pole Smoker!! A sock Stuffer!! A nose Picker!!! And a Fart smeller!!! Got it!!

Dutch: (Under his breath and childlike) I know you are but what am I?

[Dasher and Frat star off and begin circling one another in the ring. George seems obsessed with the concept of "fans".]

Dutch: Well fans the first official match of the UWS is under way. Gary Frat and Dasher Ufung are circling one another now, both sizing each other up to try and determine a week point.

Grumpy: That shouldn't be too hard.

Dutch: And hear they go! Both men lock up and Dasher clamps in a side headlock...wait, Frat just shoved him away and both men are running towards the ropes...and back they come, Dasher goes for the clotheline but Frat is too quick!!!

Grumpy: I guarantee you that you will never heard those words again.

Dutch: Frat comes in behind Dasher with a smack to the back of the big mans head. He cracks him again and throws him into the ropes once more. He bends down...wait Dasher Telegraphs it! He comes back and whamo, he drops Frat to the mat with a nasty clothesline.

Grumpy: You like nasty mat work don't a Dutch. I can see it now, Empire of the transvestite mat wrestlers...staring Dutch McCoy and Brain Thorn.

Dutch: Stop it! Dasher circles around the now prone Gary Frat...he has a mad, demented look in his eyes...

Grumpy: Not unlike yours.

Dutch: He stops him hard in the ribs...and another...and another...wait, Now Dasher is going for a pinfall...

Grumpy: That is pretty quick isn't it? Then again, there is a reason these guys are at the bottom of the barrel.

Dutch: 1...2..no, "Better than Jesus" just kicked out. He rolls under the ropes and begins collecting his thoughts.

[Dutch slowly looks from left to right and inches his fingers towards his nose...moments later, just as he reaches it, he jolts back as though he were shocked. Once again Grumpy stares with amazement.]

Grumpy: What the hell was that?

Dutch: What?

Grumpy: Lord lipton, I saw it, something is up here and I don't like it.

Dutch: How can you not like it, you don't even know what it is.

Grumpy: I don't like you and I don't think anybody knows what you are.

Dutch: Dasher is balling something in the ring... Ufung: CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA!

Grumpy: Get in there Frat and shut him up. My god its times like this I wish Drake Raynor were here, he would show them.

Dutch: Show them what?

Grumpy: Hmp...

Dutch: Well Frat rolls back into the ring and is back to his feet just in time to dodge a running knee by the big man. Frat turns and drives him with a karate chop, and another...and another...I think the fans are starting to get into this, they seem to be cheering!

Grumpy: Na, some chick just flashed her titties up in the stands.

Dutch: For real?

Grumpy: They looked real to me.

Dutch: What?

Grumpy: Mental pygmy.

Dutch: Frat Irish Whips Ufung into the ropes. He comes in, big drop kick by BTJ. Now what the hell, Frat just started tearing the turnbuckle padding off.

Grumpy: Bad Idea, that's not going to sit to well with the big bad wolf.

Dutch: The big bad wolf DI Rogers, our head ref, is really getting into Frat's face. But Frat doesn't care, he is still ripping off that turnbuckle, and Roger's is threatening to disqualify him.

Grumpy: Good, lets get this shit over with so we can all go home. (to a fan)...fuck you ya smelly bastard!

Dutch: Why did you do that for?

Grumpy: Fuck em, Hmp...

Dutch: Well Dasher is back up and is just watching Frat ripping off that padding...wait, he runs in with a huge Splash creaming Frat! Now he turns him around and drives him hard with a shin kick...arm wrench! Ufung pulls Frat into the middle of the ring, wait Frat reverses the arm wrench...wait Ufung reaches over with his other arm...chokeslam!!!! Dasher goes for the cover!!! 1...2..no, kick out by "Better than Jesus".

Grumpy: Look at that cocky son of a bitch over there look...jesus I hate him.

Dutch: Who?

Grumpy: You should already know...if you don't, I ain't tellen.

[Once again Dutch goes for his nose, but receives a quick shock.]

Grumpy: What the hell is going on you fog headed bastard!

Dutch: (Ashamed) Therapy...nose picking therapy.

Grumpy: What?

Dutch: Well the nose gum didn't work so they got me hooked up with this new rig, every time I feel an itch up there and try and scratch...I get a mild shock.

Grumpy: HA!! You fucking freak! Freak! FREAK!! HAHA, ...haha...loser!!

Dutch: Stop that...its hurts my feelings...

Grumpy: What are you going to do about it eh! HA, Nose Freak!! If you were a wrestler you would finish your opponents with the nostril jolt! HA...

Dutch: Must you make fun of others for problems they can't control?

Grumpy: My father told me...

Dutch: Nevermind, Oh shit...

Grumpy: What now, you getting an electric nose bleed, you afraid it will cover you in electric blood and shock you to death..HA!!

Dutch: No, Dasher and Frat are beating the piss out of eachother in the ring and nobody is talking about it!!

Grumpy: Who the fuck cares, the fed is going to hell anyway, who the hell cares about Gary Frat and Dasher Ufung. Plus, if people wanted to see them wrestler, they would go to a circus...

Dutch: Now a lot of good wrestling has come out of the circus.

Grumpy: Name two!

Dutch: Philipae the clown...and my mother, the Hunchback of Notre Dame Bay.

Grumpy: That is disturbing.

Dutch: She had this move where she would drive your head into her armpit and start dancing...

Grumpy: Ok, fucking stop it and call the match.

Dutch: Fine, back in the ring, Dasher Ufung is upset in the corner and Frat is on his feet staring around at the crowd. The fans are booing the hell out of them!! Oh jesus...

Grumpy: That's better than Jesus...

Dutch:...now frat is signaling for the mic.

Grumpy: Please don't give it to him...please don't give it to him!! They gave it to him...

Frat: What the hell is the matter with you people...I am an amazing wrestler and you people treat me with no respect!!! This is an outrage...this is a travesty...this is a...

[Suddenly a strange sound can be heard from somewhere in the rafters of the building...]

[Grumpy quickly snaps his head towards Dutch.]

Dutch: I didn't do it!!

Grumpy: What in the...

[Grumpy stands to his feet and stares at the ceiling, within moments the entire arena is in pause and trying to catch a glimpse at what is making the apparent sounds. Then something drips on Dutch's shoulder...]

Dutch: What is it raining? Sniff...That doesn't smell right.

[Without warning "Ride of the Valkyries" by Wagner begins to echo and the sky is filled with an ear deafening...QUACK...QUACK!!!!! Then suddenly hundreds of tiny parachutes begin to fall from the ceiling...all carrying ducks.]

Jim: What the duck is going on!?!

Gallivan: Ssshhh.

Grumpy: Never before...in the history I wrestling have I ever seen something so fucking ridiculous.

Dutch: Wait a minute...if it feels like rain...but there are ducks then that means...I got shit on!

[Grumpy takes a cue and hides beneath the commentators table while hundreds of tiny white droplets begin to fall upon the crowd...the ring...dasher ufung...and even "Better than Jesus" Gary Frat. Gallivan and Browski take a cue from Grumpy and do the same. Dutch just sits there like an idiot. George beings screaming and runs up the entrance ramp, Seun is about to eat a hot dog when a blob of shit nails it...he sniffs it, shrugs it off, and continues eating.]

Dutch: That isn't right.

[The arena plunges into darkness, except for dozens of little spotlights watching the ducks descent...Quack...Quack...Quack...Quack...]

Frat: What the hell is going on hear! I want an explanation damn it!!!

[Without warning "I'm afraid of Americans" by Bowie begins to play and the symbol of the Alaskan Militant Duck is displaced on the Syni-tron. The silhouette of a laughing figure walks in front of the symbol and points towards the ring...]

Voice: Soon duckers!!! Soon!!!!!

[Then suddenly the lights come back on...all the ducks are gone but the smell is still there. Frat is outraged in the ring, enough that he doesn't notice the strange look of Dasher behind him who seems to be of the mindset that its Frat's fault he got shit on.]

Frat: Lord Jesus, back in the old LWA when I was number one contender...what the!

Ufung: CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA! CHA!

Dutch: My god!! Out of nowhere Dasher grabbed Frat and lifts him high...one powerbomb!!! Two powerbombs!!! And a somoan Drop!!! It's the Hiroshima Slam!!! And for once the fans are cheering without the need for titties!!!

[Grumpy emerges from under the desk at the same time the fans begin cheering Dasher's assault.]

Grumpy: Hmp...bout time these bastards recognized who the real superstar of this show is.

Dutch: Ufung is going for a pinfall...1...2...3...Ufung wins!!!

Grumpy: Jesus the match was still going on?

Dutch: Lets see the LWA beat that for their first match.

[Grumpy just stares at him. The scene then cuts backstage where the legendary Commissioner Cid dressed in his plaid tuxedo, paces impatiently in front of The Reaper's office door. It is at this moment Craig Lassiter walks by.]

Lassiter: My God Cid, you look like shit.

Cid: My god I am in deep duck doodoo.

Lassiter: Good choice of words considering Reaper's amazing first match. What the hell are you doing our here jackass, want me to call the cops for you loitering?

Cid: As soon as Ash saw that...incident, he immediately called me here...and well, he didn't sound too happy about it.

Lassiter: HA! Well, lets just hope his big title match isn't as big of a flop.

[Lassiter walks off as Cid stares back at the door.]

[The show cuts to another backstage camera, where LWA head of talent relations, Donnie Rose, is sitting behind a rather small desk. Ken Holbrook is seated in front of the desk. Ken is wearing a full leg brace and has two crutches on the floor beside him. Seated at the other table, is Japanese wrestler, Uesugi.]

Rose: Good you could come, Ken. I heard you had given up on the wrestling business.

Holbrook: Well, I didn't have much choice after Craig Lassiter felt the need to prove a point by breaking my damn leg.

Rose: How is your leg doing, by the way?

Holbrook: Listen Rose, I didn't come here to chitchat. I came to finalise Uesugi's contract. You're looking at the next LWA champion, and I'm the man who's going to get him there. Now, if you could just furnish us with the paperwork, I can get this man a match...tonight.

Rose: Ok, ok, no need to get all upset.

[Donnie Rose begins shuffling through several papers on his desk before finally finding a wrestling contract. He starts looking it over. Holbrook is visibly annoyed.]

Holbrook: Come on, I don't have all day.

Rose: Ok, it's just that Ash and Lassiter put these contracts together themselves, and they are a little... non-traditional.

Holbrook: Just point me to the right line.

[Holbrook pulls out a cellphone and starts fiddling with the buttons until Donnie points him to a section of the contract and hands him a pen. Holbrook quickly signs, then folds up his phone and returns it to his jackete pocket.]

Rose: What about him? Can he write?

Holbrook: Just because he doesn't speak english, that doesn't mean he's illiterate. (handing the pen to Uesugi) Now where does he sign?

Rose: (looking over the contract) Um... oh. Oh, crap.

Holbrook: What?

Rose: Um, it looks like you signed the wrestler section of the contract, not the manager's section.

Holbrook: And what exactly does that mean?

Rose: It means that you're now an LWA wrestler.

[Uesugi says something in Japanese to Holbrook, who responds in Japanese. After the response, Uesugi starts shouting at Holbrook.]

Holbrook: Calm down, you freak! Rose, you really are pathetic, you know that? Cancel this contract, and find me another one. If this man doesn't get in the ring tonight, I'm going to sic him on you.

Rose: Well, I'm not authorised to void contracts. You'll have to bring this to Mr. Lassiter. Once he voids it, we can sign Uesugi to the proper contract.

Holbrook: You know something, Rose? If I was in charge here, you'd be out on your ass.

Rose: Well, you're not in charge.

[Ken Holbrook reaches into his orange jacket and produces his silver jester-headed cane, which he jams into the throat of Donnie Rose.]

Holbrook: I may not be in charge, but I still control the Japanese Torpedo, sunshine. And I just might decide to fire him at your sorry ass.

[Holbrook barks something to the still annoyed Uesugi, who grabs the contract from the table. Holbrook then picks up his crutches, and struggles to get out of his chair before the show cuts to a shot of a hallway. The camera slowly pans down the hallway until it stops outside a dressing room door. The name "Shane Brandon" is stenciled on the outside of the door. The camera lingers on the door for a few seconds before the show cuts back to the ring.]

Gallivan: Fans, it's time for some Chaos, and in the fashion that only the LWA can provide. You can bet the amount of duckshit in the next match will be minimal. LWA legend, The Native, has got a match against a man who is a bit of an enigma in the LWA.

Jim: Why, because his past is cloaked in mystery?

Gallivan: No, because he wears a black mask, and calls himself Enigma.

Jim: Oh, that'll do it all right.

Gallivan: Take it away, Ryan Lockheart.

Lockheart: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the first match in the new LWA! We will be ushering forth a new style of wrestling entertainment, and it starts right here! Coming to the ring at this time, from Deepest Darkest Africa, and weighing in at 155 lbs... THE NATIVE!!!

[Strange tribal drums begin to play and a wild figure breaks through the entrance curtain. The Native, wearing just a loincloth and necklace of teeth, charges towards the ring holding his chicken leg aloft in one hand. The fans, a large portion of them LWA fans, cheer on the sheer exhuberance of The Native.]

Gallivan: Fans, I can confirm that The Native has also signed an LWA contract just a few minutes ago, making him the third wrestler to join the division.

Jim: (laughing) You sure he's signed to wrestle? Maybe he's Ken Holbrook's manager.

Lockheart: And his opponent. Coming to the ring, from Parts Unknown, at an unknown weight... ENIGMA!!!

["Nowhere Man" by the Beatles begins to play and Enigma steps through the entrance curtain. He is wearing plain black wrestling gear, which doesn't seem to fit very well, and a plain black wrestling mask. Ignoring the fans, Enigma quickly walks to the ring and climbs in.]

Gallivan: So, Jim. What have you got on this Enigma?

Jim: Huh?

Gallivan: You're the color man, you must know something about this guy.

Jim: No. Hell, I didn't even know he was on the roster until you mentioned him.

Gallivan: Aren't you given a lineup of matches before the show starts?

Jim: Sure, but why the hell would I look at that? My fans want to see the real Jim Browski, off the cuff, uncensored, and completely irrepressable.

Gallivan: So, what off the cuff things do you have to say about Enigma?

Jim: Um, he's got a cool looking mask.

Gallivan: Looks like I'm on my own here, fans. Enigma locks up with the Native, which is a challenge in itself. He shoves Native up against the ropes... and drives a Knee into his midsection! Enigma whips Native off the ropes... Powerslam by Engima! Instead of going for the cover, Enigma pulls Native up to a seated position, and locks on a Rear Chinlock.

Jim: Hey, I know who this Enigma guy is!

Gallivan: Who?

Jim: The Riddler!

Gallivan: Very funny.

Jim: No, I'm serious. He doesn't have the question marks all over his body, or the funny cane, and he's not fighting Batman or telling riddles, but otherwise... it's him to a tee.

Gallivan: Jim, have you been hanging out in the restroom with Zeke?

Jim: Just call the match.

Gallivan: The Native is getting overpowered here by Enigma. He releases the chinlock, and runs off the ropes. Enigma brings down a huge Kneedrop into the chest of the Native!

Jim: That took the wind out of him.

Gallivan: Enigma pulls Native up to his feet, and hurls him into the turnbuckle! He charges in after him... Lariat into the corner by Enigma!

Jim: Hey, this guy is kinda good. Batman better watch his ass.

Gallivan: Enigma moves back to the middle of the ring and waits on Native, who staggers out of the corner... Overhead Belly-to-Belly Suplex by Enigma!!! He's not going for the cover here, instead Enigma starts stomping into the chest and head of the Native. Now, he grabs him by the head... Camel Clutch by Enigma!

Jim: Native is in a world of hurt in there now.

Gallivan: Our crack referee, Julio Suave is checking on him, and I think this one is just about over.

Jim: Well I think differently. I think this match has just started, and the Native is lulling him into a false sense of security.

Gallivan: Really?

Jim: Nah, I'm just being contrary. He's probably done.

Gallivan: Julio raises the arm of the Native... but Enigma breaks the hold! I guess he wants to punish him a little more in there. Enigma stands up... and drills Native across the back with a Butt Stomp! He picks up the lifeless LWA veteran... AND TOSSES HIM OVER THE TOP ROPE!!!

Jim: Wow, he nearly cleared the guardrail on that throw! Go get him again and we'll go for distance.

Gallivan: Julio puts a count on the Native, but Enigma heads right outside after him. He drags the Native up by his hair... and uncermoniously hurls him into the guardrail! The Native hit that rail side-on, and he's now clutching his ribs. Enigma grabs him by the hair again... and just hurls him into the ringsteps!

Jim: Brutal! I love it!

Gallivan: In the ring, Julio is warning Enigma that he's going to count both of them out if they don't get back in the ring. Enigma hoists up the Native and tosses him back into the ring. Enigma heads... no, wait. He's going underneath the ring... AND PULLING OUT A TABLE!

Jim: Now this is getting interesting. Has this Enigma guy got an LWA contract yet?

Gallivan: Not yet. Enigma slides the table in the ring. But, instead of following it in, he grabs another one from under the ring, and tosses that in as well! Julio Suave is already arguing at the masked man, but he isn't paying much attention. He sets up one of the tables in the middle of the ring. The Native is desperately trying to get back to his feet, but Enigma just punts him in the ribs!!

Jim: The LWA should be like this more often. Hardcore rules!

Gallivan: Enigma pulls the lifeless Native up by his hair, and tosses him onto the table. Julio continues to warn Enigma, but his pleas are falling on deaf ears.

Jim: Enigma's deaf? Wow, what a great story. Struggling against hearing loss to become a professional wrestler. Gee, I wonder who'll play me in the movie of the week?

Gallivan: It's just a figure of speech, Jim.

Jim: Oh... I knew that.

Gallivan: Waitaminute fans! Enigma has grabbed that second table, and he's setting it up on top of the first one!

Jim: Oooh baby! The Native is in between both tables, and he's about to get eviscerated!

Gallivan: Enigma clears Julio away from the impact zone... AND HE'S HEADED TO THE TOP ROPE!!! I don't think I can watch this.

Jim: I can!

Gallivan: The masked man is perched on the top rope, and it looks like the Native's career could be coming to an end. These fans are absolutely wild! Hang on, he's asking for a microphone.

Jim: On the top rope? Is this guy nuts or something?

Gallivan: Ryan Lockheart is up, and hands Enigma a wireless mic.

[The masked man looks out over the cheering crowd for a few seconds before speaking.]

Enigma: Ye know something? I dinna think so.

Jim: Did he just say "dinna"?

Gallivan: I believe so.

Enigma: I think I'll go somewhere where they do hardcore proper.

Jim: Hey! Kill the Native already!

[Enigma drops the microphone and unties the back of his wrestling mask. He rips it off.]

Gallivan: It's Scot Lamont!!! What the hell is he doing here!?!

Jim: He's a bloody plant from FHW! Get him the hell out of our arena!

[The Firkn Scot laughs as he leaps down off the top rope. He heads over to the LWA announce table, and shouts loud enough for their headset mics to pick it up.]

Scot Lamont: Firk ya!

[UWS security charges the ring, but Scot leaps over the barricade into the crowd. A string of security is on his tail. Meanwhile, the fans are booing, and several actually attempt to stop Scot, but he pushes his way through them.]

Gallivan: Fans, I don't know what to say. Julio is calling for the bell, and our medical team is helping the Native out from between those tables.

Jim: Oh man, look at this!

Gallivan: What? Members of the UWS ring crew are removing the tables.

Jim: You can't remove intact tables from the ring! They've got to be broken. God-dammit, I've never seen tables setup in a wrestling arena and not used! And by "used", I mean "smashed to bloody pieces"! This is a travesty of epidemic proportions!

Gallivan: Calm down, Jim. It's just a set of tables.

Jim: Just a set of tables? Those FHW bastards are sabotaging our show. Those SOBs know that we're serious and they're trying to run us out of the business. Those tables symbolize the destruction of FHW, and Scot Lamont just delayed that destruction. Well, I for one am not going to stand for it!

Gallivan: What are you going to do, write a letter?

Jim: I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm gonna do something.

[The scene cuts backstage. "Archangel" David Newcastle and Arthur "Crusader" Sage are walking down a back hallway. Sage appears an apparition clad in off white, taking long strides in his black wrestling boots as his ashen gray long coat trails behind him. The two men walk stride in stride, Newcastle easily matching Sage's pace. He's clad in a dark trenchcoat, his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sage suddenly stops and pauses to brush his lone lock of blond hair away from his dark brown eyes, which burn with an insane fire at the moment.]

Crusader: Why the Hell are we here? Seriously, why are we wasting our time in this shit hole? I have better ways to waste my time...

[A smile spreads across Newcastle's face as he stares directly at Sage and says...]

Archangel: You're not...scared, are you?

[A scowl quickly comes across Sage's face as he looks directly back at his long time friend.]

Crusader: Scared? Yeah, I'm running away from everything. Running away right into this worthless fed...

Archangel: You're outlook on life hasn't been a very positive one as of late. You're just...brimming with negativity...

Crusader: What? Cause I think the world sucks? The last year of my life has been me getting screwed over time after time. You really can't blame a man for being sick of it. The NWC was a hellhole; going back to FHW was a mistake, especially when my friends do such a fantastic job of backing me up...

[Casts a scowl at David...]

Crusader: Now, I've been drug here to waste more of my time to back you up because you want nothing more to bask in the glory of being the "One and Only" OWF champion. The UWS, cause great feds never die...

[Sage has blasted off into an insane tirade waving his arms up and down. At the last accusation, Newcastle starts to chime in but Sage stops him by pointing his hand directly at his chest...]

Crusader: The last time I was drug into a fed, I was dropped into a living hell, and then I was abandoned. It's not going to happen again. I don't care what you do, I don't care what glory you want to bask in, I'm here for one reason...revenge...

[Sage turns and walks away, still enraged. Newcastle just stands there watching his friend walk away...The scene cuts to show a door slowly creeping open. Then, bit by bit, two little hands poke out and continue to swing the door. Cid pops his head around the corner staring face to face with a very distraught Marcus "The Reaper" Ash. The Reaper is looking right through him from his seated position, a TV next to him showing exactly what is currently happening ringside.]

Cid: Now, before you go getting hot tempered and making mistakes you know we are all going to regret...

Reaper: Shut your mouth Cid I ain't going to shoot ya.

Cid: Oh thank heavens.

[Ash stands tall and backs away from the plaid man for a moment. He turns and stares at a couple of old RBC pictures, Reaper's Boot Camp.]

Reaper: You know Cid, all I wanted to do was make a show entertaining...to make the fans happy.

Cid: I completely understand.

Reaper: Don't interrupt me Cid or I will shoot you.

Cid:...

Reaper: Yes, all I wanted to do was, sit back, and watch the OWF take fans to a new height of entertainment, a place were they could once again not only enjoy...but live wrestling. So what did it do? In my very first match back...I shit all over my fans.

[A slow laughter comes from a dark corner as Reaper's personal monster T-Rex leans forward in his chair. He immediately stops as Ash drives a glare right through him.]

Reaper: But that's ok...that's ok...if it wasn't for the fact somebody LET THE FUCKING FIRK'N SCOT IN THE BUILDING!!! So what if it was an LWA match, I can take some comfort in that...but the fact is next week it might be an OWF match. I specifically told you Cid to make sure Security was watching those doors and there were specific people I didn't want let in the building. The top two names on that list were the Firkn' Scot and Dave Snow...and so far one of them has shown up. The other is rumored to be in the area...so what the hell is going on. Somebody is trying to sabotage us from the inside.

Cid: Well I told Ron, Don, and Bill to watch the doors...

Reaper: Ron, Don, and fucking Butternut Bill...they'd let a fucking bull moose through those doors.

Cid: True.

[Suddenly the very beautiful brunette and OWF directory of public relations, Sheila Moore, bursts through the door. She has a very excited look on her face.]

Reaper and Cid: WHAT!

Sheila: I got some great, great news...we just signed two new superstars! They are on their way here now from, get this...the FHW ARENA!!

[The show cuts to another backstage shot of a hallway where Craig Lassiter is talking to Bonnie, the LWA's head of production.]

Lassiter: And get rid of that real butter in the popcorn stalls. That fake crap they sell in the cinemas is cheaper, isn't it?

Bonnie: Yes, I believe so.

Lassiter: What about storage?

Bonnie: That fake butter isn't actually classified as a food, so we can pretty much store it anywhere.

Lassiter: Great, we'll buy it in bulk.

[Craig turns at the sound of clicking to his left. Ken Holbrook shambles towards him on crutches, his leg brace clicking with each step.]

Lassiter: Well well well. If it isn't my old pal, The Jester. Bonnie, you can go now. And let me know when Lee shows up.

[Bonnie shakes her head and walks down the hallway.]

Lassiter: So, how's your leg doing, Kenny boy?

Holbrook: It's pretty much healed up. I'm just wearing the brace until the muscles strengthen up.

Lassiter: I hope you don't bear me any ill-will for breaking your leg, Kenny boy.

[Craig's voice is dripping with insincerity.]

Holbrook: Of course not. All's fair in love and war, and wrestling is just one big war.

Lassiter: Except you never know who's on who's side. Now, I know you hate me with a passion, so you must have some reason to see me. Spit it out.

Holbrook: (he shoves the contract at him) Your monkey in charge of talent relations screwed up and I accidentally signed a contract to wrestle. So, if you could kindly void this, then I'll get Uesugi's contract sorted out, as per our original agreement.

Lassiter: (he stares at the contract and laughs) So, that idiot Rose did this, huh? I knew the guy was useless, but it takes a special kind of stupid to screw up this bad. (he hands the contract back to Holbrook) Nope.

Holbrook: What do you mean, nope?

Lassiter: Nope, I'm not voiding it. I've changed my mind, Kenny. I don't want you running around the LWA with a manager's license. I'd rather have you in the ring, where I can keep an eye on you.

Holbrook: You can't do that!

Lassiter: Tough darts, farmer. I just did. If you want to dispute this, then contact our legal department. Otherwise, welcome to the LWA, Mr. Holbrook.

[Craig turns to leave, but stops after taking a few steps.]

Lassiter: You say your leg is healed up. Have you been cleared by the doctor?

Holbrook: Yes, why?

Lassiter: Oh, no reason.

[Craig laughs as the scene cuts back to ringside.]

Gallivan: Well, it's time for another LWA contest, and this one should be a doozy. It's a family affair here tonight as the nephew of the LWA President, and the son of the LWA owner, Sean Lassiter gets to face an LWA legend in the form of the Sentinel. The last time we saw The Sentinel, he was beating up a certain color commentator. Isn't that right, Jim?

Jim: I'll have you know I gave that big goon one hell of a fight. Not bad considering I'm nearly 50. Oh yeah, and I'm not a big fatty fat fat, either.

Gallivan: Touche.

Lockheart: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring at this time, weighing in at 229 lbs, from Charlotte, NC... SEAN LASSITER!!!

["Conquistador" by Procol Harem starts to play and the clean-cut Sean Lassiter starts to walk towards the ring. Sean is wearing white wrestling shorts and white boots. He has an impressive physique, and still looks very young. A huge smile on his face, Sean high-fives fans all along the entrance toward the ring.]

Lockheart: And his opponent. Coming to the ring at this time, weighing in at over 300 lbs... THE SENTINEL!!!

["And Justice for All" begins to play, and the fans start to cheer immediately. The camera pans across the screaming fans before settling on the entrance curtain. The song continues, but no one appears.]

Jim: Oh Jesus, tell me we aren't going to have the Sentinel no-show every night like the old days. That got old in about 30 seconds.

Gallivan: Well, it looks like Craig Lassiter went ahead and booked the Sentinel without checking to see if he would actually show up.

Jim: God, just once I'd like to be employed in a fed that actually worked, you know?

[The crowd's applause turns to boos at the no-show. Sean Lassiter continues to stretch in the ring.]

Gallivan: Fans, it looks like Craig Lassiter is on his way to the ring. Maybe he can sort this out.

[The LWA President runs toward the ring, and rolls under the bottom rope, grabbing the microphone from Ryan Lockheart.]

Lassiter: Ok, folks. Minor setback. The Sentinel's plane was fogged in, and he unfortunately couldn't make it tonight.

Jim: Yeah, right. Pull the other one, it's got bells on.

Gallivan: Did any wrestlers show up here tonight?

Lassiter: So, like any good fed, we have to be able to adapt. So, Sean Lassiter's opponent will be the newest wrestler in the LWA roster... Ken "Jester" Holbrook!

Gallivan: What? Holbrook is on crutches!

Jim: So? No time like the present to start walking again.

["Carousel" by Mr. Bungle begins to play, and Ken Holbrook slowly steps out through the entrance curtain. Holbrook is still wearing his green and orange business suit, and is using his crutches to walk the entrance ramp. Once they see him, the fans start to boo even louder. Holbrook sees Craig Lassiter in the ring, and spits. He struggles to turn around, but the massive figure of security enforcer Mr. Toasty Bacon appears behind him, blocking his exit.]

Gallivan: How's that for justice? Mr. Toasty Bacon was Holbrook's personal slave when he was running the show at Ghosts of the Past. Now, he's forcing Holbrook into the ring.

[Craig Lassiter tosses the mic and heads down to the LWA announce table, where he puts on a headset.]

Gallivan: Are you going to join us, Mr. Lassiter?

Lassiter: How ya doing, Johnny, ya big tool? There's too many Lassiters in this business. Call me MB, for Magnificent Bastard.

Gallivan: (under his breath) How about I call you BM, for Bowe...

Lassiter: What did you say?

Gallivan: Nothing.

Gallivan: Sean Lassiter looks hesitant to lock up with his former boss, who is having a hard time just getting through the ropes.

Lassiter: Hey, if he wants to be an LWA superstar, he's going to have to work for it.

Gallivan: But he doesn't! He didn't want to be in the division in the first place.

Lassiter: Just call the damn match before I replace you with that guy off the Home Shopping Network.

Gallivan: Holbrook is in the ring, and without his crutches, he can barely stand. Julio is telling them to lock up, but they don't seem to be too keen.

[In the ring, Holbrook stumbles and falls to the canvas. Sean Lassiter immediately goes over to help him. As he does, Holbrook grabs him by the hair, and pulls off a Small Package.]

Gallivan: Whoah! Pinfall attempt by Holbrook, and Julio counts... 1.. kickout! Lassiter scrambles to his feet, and Holbrook is slow to get up.

[Sean just waits for Holbrook to stand up, prompting another chorus of boos from the fans.]

Lassiter: (drops his head into his hands) What have I done?

Jim: You've put a cripple and a goody-two-shoes in the ring against each other. Man, if anybody is still watching at home, you can bet they are laughing their asses off.

Gallivan: Holbrook hobbles towards Sean Lassiter and they actually lock up. Sean applies a Side Headlock.

Jim: Oooh, behold the wonders of a scintillating side headlock! FHW, here we come!

Lassiter: I can't watch this.

[Suddenly, "And Justice for All" begins to play. The fans quickly turn and start a pre-emptive cheer. The accolades fall silent, however, when the music fades out into silence after a few seconds.]

Jim: MB, I think the monkeys in the truck have been swiping smokes out of Zeke's pack.

Gallivan: Holbrook tries to push Sean off, but can't. The kid has him firmly under control. Hang on, Holbrook gives him a quick forearm shot in the ribs, and shoves both of them into the ropes. Julio calls for the break, and Sean quickly complies.

Jim: I wonder what's next. Maybe a collar-and-elbow tieup. Or... could we dare... an armdrag perchance? The excitement is just too much for my fragile heart to bear.

[Again, the fans start to boo, and again music plays up. This time, however, it is "The Thing that Should Not Be."]

Gallivan: What's going on now?

Jim: Don't ask me, I just work here. MB?

Lassiter: Don't bother me, I'm busy having a breakdown. (he pulls out a hipflask from his tuxedo jacket and takes a large slug)

Gallivan: What the hell is that!?!

[Then, a huge figure steps through the entrance curtain.]

Jim: IT'S THE SENTINEL!

[A sudden chill enters the arena and the lights dim. The sounds of screaming and torment can barely be made out as the unnerving cords of "The thing that should not be" by Metallica play on. Then, step by step, the giant 7 footer walks upon the entrance ramp. He is as slow but unstoppable as an iceberg or a glacier. His eyes are cold and his Iron plated Ash gray longcoat matches that emotional absense to a tee. He moves towards the ring and slowly lets the coat fall off his back while he takes off two big gray gauntlets, letting his long white hair fall into place.]

Gallivan: No it's not! It's the man who was masquerading as the Sentinel in the LWA and SWWF... Judas Dagon!

[Craig Lassiter looks up at the monster.]

Lassiter: Close enough. (yelling to Julio) Put him in the match!

Gallivan: Fans, I'm being told that this match is now a triangle match.

Gallivan: Sean and Ken are both looking at this beast, and Holbrook wisely backs into a corner. Sean Lassiter, on the other hand, charges at the big man! He hits Dagon with a Clothesline before he's even through the ropes! Sean starts firing punches into the head of the big man, but their affect seems to be limited. Judas Dagon reaches out and places a hand onto the chest of Sean... and just shoves him across the ring!

Jim: This is a turnup for the books.

Lassiter: You're telling me.

Gallivan: Now Dagon heads for Holbrook, who is taking a very defensive stance in the corner. Dagon walks into a boot to the midsection by Holbrook, but just keeps on coming! He steps in, driving a Back Elbow hard into the chest of Holbrook! Now Dagon grabs him under each arm... and tosses him clear across the ring!!!

Lassiter: (laughing) Look at Kenny fly! I like this guy.

Gallivan: Holbrook landed flat on his back and is slow to get up. But Sean Lassiter is up... Standing Dropkick on the fake Sentinel!

Jim: That finally moved him.

Gallivan: Dagon had to take a few steps back, but it didn't take him down. He grabs Sean as he tries to regain his vertical base... HUGE POWERBOMB BY DAGON! Ken Holbrook rolls out of the ring to the floor.

Lassiter: Coward! Don't make me send out Mr. Toasty Bacon again.

Gallivan: In the ring, Sean Lassiter tries to get up, but Dagon is right there... and slaps on a Claw hold!

Jim: Damn, that guy's hand is nearly covering Sean's head!

Gallivan: Julio Suave is checking on Sean, who looks to be in incredible pain. He drops to his knees, but Dagon applies even more pressure. Waitaminute! Ken Holbrook rolls back into the ring... and he's got one of those crutches!

Lassiter: This could be interesting.

Gallivan: Dagon pulls Sean back to his feet, and steps around to face Holbrook... AND HOLBROOK EXPLODES THE CRUTCH ACROSS DAGON'S HEAD!!!

Jim: HE DIDN'T EVEN GO DOWN!

Lassiter: There's something you don't see every day.

Gallivan: It didn't even so much as break the Claw hold! Dagon reaches out to Holbrook, who is hopping on one foot, and grabs him by the throat!

[Dagon stands in the middle of the ring for a few seconds, surrounded by broken wood splinters. Sean Lassiter is still in the grips of a Claw hold, and Ken Holbrook is being blatantly choked.]

Gallivan: Julio puts on a very swift count, and now he's shouting at Dagon to break the hold... CHOKESLAM ON HOLBROOK!!!

Jim: He just about put the Jester through that mat, and still didn't lose control of his claw hold! This has turned into a handicap match... and Sean Lassiter and Ken Holbrook are the ones with the handicap!

Gallivan: Holbrook's not moving, and Sean has dropped to his knees again. He's grabbing at Dagon's hand trying to break the hold, but to no avail! Judas Dagon finally releases the hold, dropping Sean to the mat.

Jim: Man, look at the red marks across his head. I think he's out!

Gallivan: Dagon grabs Sean by the hair, and drags his lifeless body to its knees... Dragon Sleeper by Anti-Sentinel! No, he hoists him up into an Inverted Suplex, and he's just holding him there!

Jim: That looks mighty familiar, if you ask me.

Gallivan: JUDGMENT NIGHT ON SEAN LASSITER!!!

Jim: Wasn't that the Sentinel's old move?

Gallivan: Actually, Sentinel used "Judgment Day." Judas Dagon just obliterated Sean Lassiter with that inverted hanging brainbuster, and this kid is done. Instead of going for the cover, he heads towards Ken Holbrook!

[Ken slowly crawls to his knees, and cowers in front of the beast. Dagon just looks down at him, and shakes his head.]

Gallivan: Dagon grabs him by the hair... Low Blow by Holbrook! The big man was actually stunned by that move! Holbrook grabs him by the waist, and struggles to hoist 350 lbs of destruction off the mat... STUNGUN BY KEN HOLBROOK!!!

Jim: That's a hell of a lot of weight coming down across that rope!

Gallivan: Holbrook rolls Dagon onto his back, and he's actually going for a pinfall! Julio drops down for the count... BUT DAGON TOSSES HOLBROOK OFF HIM THROUGH THE ROPES!!!

Jim: He tossed him off like he was nothing, and Holbrook hit the floor outside the ring! He didn't even get so much as a one count.

Gallivan: Now he's just standing up as if nothing happened!

Jim: This guy's invincible!

Gallivan: Dagon steps over the top rope and drops to the floor. He stares down at Ken Holbrook... then nails a Legdrop across the back of Holbrook's head!!!

[The monster slowly gets up, and stares down at the halo of blood that is slowly expanding around Ken Holbrook, who lies face-down on the concrete.]

Gallivan: Dear God! With the size of that man, he could have crushed his skull! Dagon is just staring at him as if he enjoys this!

Lassiter: (shouting) Hey, dummy! You're getting counted out!

Gallivan: Dagon looks up at Julio, who is up to 7 in his count. He jumps up onto the ring apron from the floor, and steps over the ropes back into the ring! Fans, somehow Sean Lassiter is getting up! This kid has a lot of heart in him, but I don't know if he can do anything against this monster. Lassiter stumbles towards Dagon, hitting him with a Stiff-arm Clothesline... but it had no effect! Dagon brings up his foot, and boots Sean in the chest, sending him back against the ropes. Sean stumbles forward again... SPEAR BY DAGON!!!

Jim: Damn! I swear I heard ribs crack on that one!

Gallivan: Dagon reaches down for a cover... no, he grabs Sean by the tights and lifts him up into the air! Sean is still horizontal... and now Dagon is spinning in circles in that ring!

Jim: What the hell is this?

Gallivan: 360 POWERBOMB BY JUDAS DAGON!!! He gets up to his knees, and places a hand across the chest of Sean Lassiter, and I guess this is a cover. Julio makes the count... 1... 2... 3! It's all over fans, and thank God for that.

Jim: Speak for yourself. That's the best thing I've seen in ages.

Jim: That was a hell of a match, even if he is an imposter.

Lassiter: Imposter or not, that man is going to be on the LWA roster just as soon as I get backstage. He's better than the real Sentinel. Now, if you'll excuse me.

Gallivan: Fans, as the LWA President heads off to no doubt negotiate Judas Dagon's LWA contract, our ring attendants have hit the ring.

Jim: It looks like Sean Lassiter and Ken Holbrook will both be taking a ride in the meatwagon. Gallivan, I don't know if the bossman should sign this guy afterall.

Gallivan: Why?

Jim: Because we just don't have enough wrestlers in the LWA for this guy to kill them week after week. He'll go through our roster like a hot knife through butter.

Gallivan: Speaking of hot knives, let's throw it to Zeke, who's backstage with The Native, who has a few choice words to say about the Firkn Scot.

[The show cuts backstage. Zeke is standing in a hallway in front of a bare wall. He looks fairly nervous. The former hippie cameraman turned reporter doesn't look comfortable at all in his new position.]

Zeke: Good evening wrestling fans. (he sounds like he's reading off a cue card) Tonight... we are proud to have... a phenominal wrestler... on hand... all the way... from Africa... he's none... other than... The Native.

[Zeke moves aside and the thinnest cannibal in the world, The Native, steps into shot. He is naked except for a loincloth and a string of teeth around his neck. There is heavy tape covering most of his torso. Native bares his teeth, displaying chunks of meat in between his own sharpened teeth. Zeke just looks at him, holding the microphone out towards him. The mic is too close to his face, and all you hear is the deep, angry breathing of the Native. Before he can speak, there is a loud crash from off-camera.]

Zeke: Dude, that was our deli-tray! Seun's not gonna like that.

[Suddenly, the Native gets knocked out of shot, and a rather dapper looking Brian Thorn steps in front of the camera in his place. He looks at Zeke, who carefully hands him the microphone. Thorn takes a step back so that the camera can get a look at his black two-piece suit with red T-shirt underneath the jacket. He moves to speak, but stops, and starts glancing around the camera as if he was looking in a mirror. Thorn reaches up, and smooths down a section of his hair that seemed perfectly fine to begin with.]

Brian Thorn: Now that's perfect.

[Thorn beams a toothy smile at the camera, drops the microphone, and walks out of shot.]

Gallivan: Wow, "The Perfect One" Brian Thorn shows up. Things are really starting to heat up here in the new LWA.

Jim: Why didn't he say anything? His fans want to hear him speak.

Gallivan: That's probably why he didn't.

[The scene cuts to another backstage shot where we find The Reaper Marcus Ash finally with his usual smug smirk on his face. He passes by a few female members of the backstage team, and slaps one of them on the ass. Moments later he stops at a door that reads..."Legacy"...from inside sounds can be heard...]

Crusader: Admit it, you know he left us for dead. You know he didn't give two shits about who we were and all that he and I had accomplished in those short two weeks in TSW. We followed the man to the NWC with the dreams of becoming superstars. Instead, as soon as he and I get the world pissed at us, he jumps ship on me and leaves me to fend for myself...until you show up.

Archangel: The Crusader I know could always fed for himself no matter the situation. Perhaps the man had other motifs...we don't know what was going on behind that smug mask of his.

Crusader: Other motifs! I will give you that the man has had his share of personal problems...hell for a while, we were some of them. But you damn well know that the only reason I am working here for Ash is so I can once again make his life a living hell for leaving me in the NWC, so I can do everything in my power take him down for what he did to me. I'll knock that smile off his face the first chance I get...fuckin' Smiley.

[The door suddenly busts open and Crusader I about to charge out but for some reason is suddenly stopped...]

Archangel: Do what you will...but just remember...everybody has alternate motifs...everyone, even Ash.

Crusader: Even you?

[Crusader bolts out of the room and right into the Reaper, smug look and all.]

Reaper: Well, I do believe this constitutes as your first chance...Here is my smile...here is my face. Have your best shot smiley.

[For a moment Crusader closes his fist and prepares to hit him...but instead he relaxes, and that Cheshire smile graces his face.]

Crusader: Don't worry Ash...it's coming. Now, get out of my way.

[Crusader darts past and after a few moments of cursing under his breath, the Reaper makes his way into the lockerroom where Archangel seem to be in deep thought. Next to him is Gabriel, dressed in his black longcoat and open white shirt, who is carefully eyeing Ash.]

Reaper: Ah, there he is, my OWF World Champion...what's Crusader on the rags again...or is he just getting pissy because you won't turn over to the brown side?

[Archangel looks up and smiles for a moment.]

Archangel: Let him be.

Reaper: Fine, anything for my champion.

Archangel: Good then. So, my match is next...has Hoser arrived yet?

Reaper: Actually yes, I do believe me stumbled into the building a bit earlier. He was being chased by Irate prostitutes...ugly scene.

Archangel: And this is whom you chose for your number one contender...beautiful.

Reaper: Hell he has his moments. Of course we never actually did find out if he could beat Drake one on one, but, he did do damn well in the gauntlet and for that I figured what the hell...that and I couldn't find Drake.

Archangel: Well, it doesn't really matter who it is Ash...I will still be champion when this night is out.

Reaper: Is that ego I am detecting here...believe me, that is something I know a lot about.

[Archangel grabs his belt and walks to the door. In a second Gabriel is behind him. They both look back.]

Archangel: You may know a lot about somethings...but there are other things you will never understand...

[After that serious note Archangel cracks a smile...]

Archangel: Don't worry Ash...I won't let this match be as big of a flop as the rest of the show. Your championship match is safe. Come Gabriel...lets go break a Canadian Icon.

[Ash waits alone in the room for a moment thinking over Archangel's tone. Then he just shrugs. ]

Reaper: Ah well, I guess he has finally grown some balls.

[The scene cuts back to ringside where Seun is confiscating hotdogs from rowdy fans. On one side of him, Gallivan and Browski seem to be in a heated debate about weight problems, while on the other, Dutch is glaring away happily while Grumpy, in his last weeks, haven't combed his hair, business suit, simply stares away at his dim twitted associate.]

Grumpy: Hey...hey bonehead...

Dutch: hmm?

Grumpy: You got some mustard or something up there by your nose.

Dutch: Really, I didn't think I had any mus...ZAP!...AH...you bastard...

Grumpy: Hmp...HAHA...

Dutch: You shouldn't take advantage of other peoples weaknesses.

Grumpy: What do you mean weakness...look at you, your pathetic. You have to pick your nose that bad you need a device that shocks you whenever you do.

Dutch: You still shouldn't do it.

Grumpy: Hmp...well, I don't think you got all that mustard...

Dutch: What mustard?

Grumpy: The stuff up by your nose by...

Dutch: Really I thou...ZAP!..AHH

Grumpy: HAHA! This is too easy.

Dutch: Well I have just received word that Uesugi has signed on as an OWF wrestler. That's strange...

Aspen: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first ever UWS-OWF Division Championship match!! Coming to the ring, weighing in at 235lbs and hailing for the Great White North! He is Hoser!!!

["Black Oblivion" by Tony Iomey begins to echo. Moments later to a rampart of screaming by the fans, out walks Hoser through the entrance curtain. He is wearing his usual tailor made martial artist jeans and a tight white shirt. On his shoulder is a tattoo of a maple leaf. He stands on the ramp, looks around for a minute, pulls a beer out of one of his pockets and shotguns it. He then lights up a smoke, cracks another beer, and makes his way to the ring. He grabs Aspen on the ass, noticeably stares at her breasts, and then continues to finish his beer and cigarette.]

Grumpy: Hmp...I guess he actually did make it here on time...Hmp...

Dutch: Why was he staring at Aspen's shirt like that?

Grumpy: Idiot.

Aspen: Hailing from Paradise, Pennsylvania...weighing in at 285 pounds...The Phenom...The reigning OWF World Champion...HE...IS...DAVID "ARCHANGEL" NEWCASTLE!!

[Archangel and Gabriel immerge from behind the curtain as images of his past matches appear on the Syndi-tron and "Leave you far behind" by Lunatic Calm continues its beat. Archangel battling in the lowest cage in the Tower match that would decide his fate. Archangel battling back stage with Lee Todd while the whole company watched. Archangel smiling as he stares down the barrel of a shotgun only to see Ash with his finger on the trigger.]

[The two men begin to walk methodically down to the ring, a light hint of a smile on each of their faces. Archangel and Gabriel glance to each side occasionally, looking to the crowd.]

[The two men reach the ring and climb the steps. Upon reaching the apron, Archangel steps over the top rope. Archangel turns to the turnbuckle beside him. He steps up on the top turnbuckle and throws back his head as his arms are outstretched.]

[He drops down, moves to the opposite corner, and return to his pose atop the turnbuckle. The last video clip shows on the Syndi-tron; Archangel kicking Drake Raynor off the top of the Tower and Drake falling 40 feet to his fate. Finally he drops down and sheds his trench coats and sunglasses, giving them to Gabriel who now stands outside the ring.]

Dutch: Grumpy? Are you asleep?

Dutch: Well, it looks like DI Rogers is having a few words to say to both men. I think Hoser is half cut here...I think his eyes are glazed.

[Seun perks his head up at the sound of the word glazed.]

Grumpy: Jesus Christ, I told you not to be mentioning that shit when Seun is around...he is like a dog that smells food...I big fat sumo dog...

Dutch: And now both men collide! They are drilling each other with a fury of lefts and rights!

Grumpy: I don't know how good of an idea this is considering the size of the Champion.

Dutch: Don't be so foolish. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Grumpy: Yeah but the smaller they are, the further they flies.

Dutch: True. Well back in the ring, Archangel does indeed to be getting the advantage in this fist fight. Hoser is relenting, but the Champion is like a wild animal. He is just drilling Hoser again and again with that sharp right. The Canadian icon doesn't seem to be doing so well. Now Archangel whips him into the ropes...he comes back with a huge clothesline! Wait! Hoser seemed to dodge it and picked up speed! He comes off the ropes and flies!

Grumpy: Told yeah...hmp...

Dutch: He connects a flying forearm to the big man! David Newcastle is staggered. Now Hoser rears back again and comes in for another! Once again Archangel is staggered but it seems as if he is shacking it off. Now Hoser goes for a drop kick! My god!! Archangel just stepped forward and caught him in mid air!!! Huge Powerbomb by the Phenom!!!

Grumpy: Now that's the damnedest thing I have ever scene.

Dutch: Its like all of a sudden Newcastle has regained all his strength. It's like those few shots had never happened. He stands before the now prone Hoser...

Grumpy: Hoser laid out on the ground, possibly unconscious, a hoard of irate prostitutes somewhere in the vicinity, and somebody wanted to kick his ass. Seems like a normal night for him to me.

Dutch: Well the champion grabs the Canadian icon by the hair and hoist him up. He sets him up for a pump handle slam...and bam! He connects! Archangel goes for the pin...1...2..kickout!

Grumpy: This guy has got to be alcohol fuelled...that's the only way to explain it.

Dutch: Newcastle lifts him tall again, he sets him up for a powerbomb...wait! Hoser just stopped down hard on his foot!

Grumpy: Classic wrestling manouver. That's why this fed is going straight to hell.

Dutch: Really?

Grumpy: Yip. It's just like jail...you know all about that place don't yeah...haha...fucking bumdicker!!

Dutch: Jesus would you stop it with that crap...I got a family home watching this you know.

Grumpy: Who, the village people? You don't have a family you blasted pedophile!

Dutch: Asshole...Anyway...

Grumpy: Hmp...

Dutch: Back in the ring Hoser has managed to escape Newcastle's grasp. He slips under the ropes and seems to be taking a breather...no...no, he is having a beer.

Grumpy: Hmp...he got to recharge I suppose. (To a fan for no apparent reason) Fuck you ya little ass muncher.

Dutch: But archangel isn't waiting! He comes flying over the top rope towards Hoser!! Wait!!! Hoser just smashed that beer bottle over Newcastle's head!!! Was this a trick! Did Hoser lure him out!! Rogers is in the ring and doesn't know weather to disqualify him or not. I think he is letting it go!!! The champion is down on eh ground in a bloody mess, glass imbedded into his forehead...his guts hanging out, his eyes burst and his balls hanging lower than his paratrooper boots!

Grumpy: Hmp...Fans watching at home...please turn off the channel and watch something else. Not because of the bloody mess, or the fact that everything he just described with the exception of said bloody mess is true...but because listing to my associate here will turn you into a senile old fag.

Dutch: Hoser grabs Archangel by the head and drives him towards the turnpost...by god what a smash into that steel! The Angel staggers back and falls hard to the cold concrete. Hoser jumps upon the apron...now he climbs a bit higher...jesus he is right to the top rope!

Grumpy: If Drake Raynor were here now he wouldn't be getting away with this...he would take it to them real quick. HAHA..hmp...

Dutch: Hoser leaps into the sky!! And he connects with a massive crossbody!! He staggers back to his feet and pulls the champion up. He throws him back into ring, going for a pin...1...2...no, kick out by the champion. Hoser looks pissed! My god Archangel just sat up!!!

Grumpy: Viagra...works every time.

Dutch: Hoser drives him in the head with a hard right...and another...but the big man simply rises to his feet with ease.

Grumpy: Drake Raynor could take him down.

Dutch: Drake Raynor was thrown off the top of a 40 foot cage by this man.

Grumpy: Oh, getting sassy are we...I'll get ya fired.

Dutch: Archangel is standing tall and Hoser is throwing everything he got at him. He bounces off the ropes with a dropkick...and he staggers the champion! He goes for it again! Wait! Archangel dodged it! He waits for him to rise...chokeslam on Hoser!!! Archangel goes for the pin...1...2...no, once again Hoser kicks out. Newcastle lifts him up and whips him into the turn buckle...he comes in with a nasty crossbody! Now he is just drilling him with lefts and rights!

Grumpy: Hey...you got something there by your nose.

Dutch: Really? Where...(ZAP!!) AH!!!!...you bastard!

Grumpy: HAHA...god damn electronose. You're the puppet...and I am the puppet master...I pull the strings and in this case...the nose hairs.

Dutch: Well, back in the ring, Archangel grabs him by the throat again...but this time he is sitting on the top rope...My god this is the Fall from Grace, a chokeslam from the top! He sets him up! Wait, Hoser just drilled him in the nuts! I don't think Rogers saw it!

Grumpy: Rogers hasn't been seeing much tonight. I think its because his mind is occupied with the secret assassination of Julio Suave.

Dutch: Really?

Grumpy: Only possible explanation.

Dutch: Well the angel drops Hoser who quickly races back up the ropes!!! DDT From the top rope!! Hoser just planted Archangel! I don't know if that was a DDT or a brainbuster...either way the Angel has landed.

Grumpy: Oh...look at me...I wear a funny hat and I can only talk in clichés...fiddley dee.

Dutch: You don't wear a hat? And what's a cliché?

Grumpy: Hmp...

Dutch: The fans don't know who to cheer for here tonight. Hoser jumps back up and walks around the champion...he is signaling for the beer buster! The fans are going nuts...if he hits this we could have a new champion here tonight!! He grabs Archangel and sets him up for his version of the pedigree...the beer buster! Wait, Archangel just lifted him over his shoulders!!! He repositions him over his shoulder and runs into the ropes, Hoser's back first!! Hoser stands up right away but immediately falls back to the mat. I think that move took the air out of him completely! Now archangel is going to the top rope!! He is signaling for it...he is signaling for the divine Intervention and the fans are going nuts!! He gets ready to leap and...

[Suddenly the lights black out in the arena. ]

Grumpy: I told you!!! I bloody well told you!!! Drake Raynor is here and he is coming!!!

[The fans in the arena all begin to cheer despite not knowing what is happing. ]

Dutch: Well fans I don't know what is going on...but...do you smell Tuna?

Grumpy: Tuna my arse...bloody nuisance...wait a sec...hmm...I do smell Tuna actually...

[Suddenly over the sound speakers a strange voice can be almost heard...it could be saying..."Hoser"...or, it could just be a techy yelling at Gyro.]

Dutch: Did you hear that?

Grumpy: No. But I do hear Seun's gut rumbling from the smell of this tuna.

[Minutes past...and the lights don't come back on.]

Grumpy: Come on Drake...I know your coming...

[A few minutes more past...]

Grumpy: Perhaps he is late...you know what the busses in this city are like...bloody newfies...

[And a few more...]

Grumpy: He isn't coming is he?

[A more...]

Grumpy: Hmp...Hey Dutch...you got something by your nose.

Dutch: What...where? (Zap!!!) Stop that!!

[In the sudden shock that came from Dutch, you can almost pick out a figure standing behind Hoser in the ring...but then its gone. Seconds later, as the lights are still not on, the fans begin booing wildly. Then Cid's voice can be heard over a megaphone somewhere...]

Cid: Attention fans...it seems we have a power outage somewhere in the building...so, to accommodate our time slot, this match is going to have to end in a draw...(BOOOOOO!!!!), and be held again at another time. As soon as we get power back then we will be back in action...please be patient.

Grumpy: Oh man, I know Ash isn't contrary now!

Grumpy: If I were Cid I would be wearing a Kevlar vest from now on.

[Just as the no contest was announced...the power comes back on. Somewhere from far within the bowls of the building...Reaper can be heard swearing.]

[The show cuts backstage to the medical area. Ken Holbrook is sitting on a table getting his nose stitched up by the LWA's resident medic, Dr. Zamboolah.]

Zamboolah: Yah, dat broke arright.

Holbrook: Ow! Watch what you're doing, you quack!

Zamboolah: You quacking too? Hmm, maybe you got combustion.

Holbrook: What?

Zamboolah: Combustion. You tink you a duck right. You mussa hit yer noggin out dere.

Holbrook: Concussion? Is that what you mean? Jesus, are you for real?

Zamboolah: Trouble tellin the difference between fake and real too. Hmm, not good for you. I may havta resort to da shocky sticks.

Holbrook: You come near me with a shocky stick, or whatever the hell you're talking about, and I'll behead you!

[The camera pans around, revealing Holbrook's incredibly swollen face. Both of his eyes are bloodshot, and his nose looks like hamburger. The lower half of his face is covered in dried blood. Then, behind him, Bonnie Bellows and Sheila Moore walk by the door to the medical room. Both are looking at clipboards as they walk.]

Sheila: Yeah, well we just signed Uesugi as well, so things are really starting to even out.

[At the mention of Uesugi's name, Holbrook spins around.]

Holbrook: Hey! What did you just say?

Sheila: Nothing. I was just telling Bonnie here that Uesugi has signed onto the OWF roster.

Holbrook: That has to be a mistake. Uesugi is my wrestler and he's signing with the LWA.

Sheila: Well that's not what it says here.

[Ken struggles to get up, but is held back by Dr. Zamboolah.]

Zamboolah: Uh uh. You goin nowhere. We godda fix up dat nose of yours.

Holbrook: Do it later.

Zamboolah: You wanna look like Jim Browski?

[Holbrook pauses a second, then sits back on the table.]

Zamboolah: I didn tink so. Hang on, me get da putty.

Holbrook: Putty?

[As Dr. Zamboolah starts fishing through his medical bag, Bonnie and Sheila head on their way. Ken Holbrook gingerly touches his nose, wincing at the pain. Then, from behind a changing curtain, a figure in a labcoat and surgical scrubs steps into the room, behind Ken Holbrook. He pulls a bottle from the coat pocket, quietly pours from it onto a hankerchief, and clamps it over the face of Ken Holbrook. Holbrook struggles, but quickly passes out from the "medication." Dr. Zamboolah looks up, shocked.]

Zamboolah: Who you?

Masked Man: I'm from the Blessed... the Blessed Moses Hospital. I'm taking Mr. Holbrook here to get all fixed up.

Zamboolah: Hokay. Go easy on him, he's a bit of a wussy-boy.

Masked Man: I'll keep that in mind.

[With that, the masked doctor lifts the limp figure of Ken Holbrook over his shoulder, and walks out of the room.]

Zamboolah: (nodding his head) He seem like a nice guy.

[The show cuts back to ringside just as "Supernaut" by Black Sabbath begins to play. Craig Lassiter begins walking towards the ring once again. His tuxedo doesn't look as crisp as when the night started, but he still looks as happy as ever. Craig sits in the empty chair beside Jim Browski and puts on a headset.]

Jim: Well, boss, how does it feel to be behind the reigns of LWA once again?

Lassiter: It feels good, Jim. Damn good. When Ash and I talked about doing this, I really didn't think it was going to happen. But, as we got closer and closer to the day, things really started to roll. At this point, nothing can stop us. I'm also happy because Judas Dagon has officially signed an LWA contract.

Gallivan: Things haven't exactly gone as plan tonight. The Sentinel no-showing, and how about the Firk'n Scot?

Lassiter: You would bring that up, wouldn't you Gallivan? Let me assure the fans that Scot Lamont does NOT work for the UWS. He was technically trespassing, and if he returns, we WILL have him arrested.

Jim: You know, if he's trespassing, you could've shot him.

Gallivan: Jim!

Jim: No, it's the law. You could have shot him, and said it was in self-defence.

Gallivan: Jim, I think that law is for protecting your home, it doesn't work in a public arena such as this one.

Jim: What a gyp.

Gallivan: MB, just how did Scot manage to get a match in the first place?

Lassiter: I'm not exactly sure how that happened, but you can be sure that whomever was responsible will be fired. Now, come on. I'm antsy to see the main event. LWA fans have waited months and months to see a resolution to this title issue, and the wait is finally over.

Gallivan: Take it away, Ryan Lockheart.

Lockheart: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a unification match to determine a new, undisputed LWA Division Champion. Coming to the ring at this time, from Darlington, England, and weighing in at 232 lbs... LEE F'N' TODD!!!

[The lights in the arena dim as Sweet Child of Mine rips through the arena, dry ice fills the aisle as Lee F'n' Todd steps through the curtain a bottle of brown ail held high above his head in his left hand. The LWA/Beast World Title is fit snugly around his waist. A two fingered salute on his right. Strolling down the aisle he's followed by a trench coat clad Lola. Making a slow march to the ring he hops up on the apron knocks back his ail before handing the bottle to Lola. Climbing through the middle rope he pases like an agitated Lion waiting for his opponent.]

Lockheart: And his opponent, from Long Beach, CA, and weighing in at 245 lbs... "THE THREAT" SHANE BRANDON!!!

["Revolution" by The Neurotic Outsiders begins to play, but nothing happens.]

Lassiter: What the hell is going on?

[Brandon's music plays again... but still no one comes out. The fans start booing again, and start tossing trash into the ring.]

Gallivan: Here we go again.

Lassiter: Dammit, do I have to do everything around here?

[Craig Lassiter jumps up from his seat, rips off his headset, and takes off towards backstage.]

[Leaning nonchalantly over the top rope an elated smirk on his face, Lee Todd gestures for the ring announcer to throw him the mic. Never one to pander to those lower on the food chain Lee and ring announcers don't tend to get along hence the ring announcer is reluctant to depart with his microphone. Lola abruptly grabs the poor stuff by the collar and relieves him of his mic as she tosses it to her charge. Inspecting his impliment of verbalisation he taps the head twice before clearing his throat.]

Todd: Ah hah I knew he wouldn't show, after all why would he staring in the face of a totally consuming unavoidable humiliating defeat. Why if my opponent had of showed up at this house.

[Lee seems completely oblivious to the booming chants of bull shit filling the arena, refusing to even acknowledge such a negative ego damaging response he presses on.]

Todd: This house being the house that I Lee F'n' Todd built.

Gallivan: If I'm not very much mistaken, Lee Todd has only been a part of one LWA show, and that was the last one.

Jim: Still, you can't help but admire everything he's done for the LWA over the years.

Gallivan: Jim, are you even listening to me?

Jim: Yes sir, I agree whole-heartedly.

Gallivan: Sheesh.

Todd: If he'd of showed up here I'd of undoubtedly killed said fellow, perhaps this other champion or should I say ex champion has a little more sense than I first credited him with. After all now that he's wisely chose not to face me by default his belt becomes mine. And hence me Lee F'n' Todd your magnificent World Champion demands you treat him with the reverence he truly deserves. After all this is quite frankly the greatest moment of my lifetime.

[Pausing for a moments contemplation you can almost see the light bulb flashing over his head.]

Todd: Wait a minute.

[Looking at Lola patting the LWA Beast World Heavyweight championship he grins gesturing for her to come closer. Apprehensively approaching Lee she looks most unimpressed by this latest monumental victory.]

Todd: Hey Lola you wan't to go back to the hotel room and celebrate this landmark victory by getting it on with da champ. I can show you the real reason why they call me Lee F'n' Todd.

Lola: No dear.

Todd: Ok then therefore by default this is still the greatest moment of my life, perhaps one day I'll get in Lola's pants and that will take presidence but for now folks take pride in witnessing this fine moment but for all you perverts out there I assure you there won't be any Tommy and Pam vid's of aforementioned future greatest moment. Now I've wasted enough of my time on you Peons it's time I hit a bar and celebrate. So for now friends, Romans, not my country men and two dollar whores you call wives, I bid you farewell.

[Raising his championship high above his head for all to see Lee F'n' Todd trots backstage with Lola in toe.]

Gallivan: What an arrogant bastard.

Jim: Yeah, don't you love him?

[The show cuts backstage, where a camera picks up Craig Lassiter outside Brandon's lockeroom. Lassiter kicks in the door, and looks around.]

Lassiter: Bonnie!!!

[The cameraman moves into the dressing room, which is completely empty. Suddenly, a curly-haired redhead wearing a headset runs into the room.]

Bonnie: Yes, boss?

Lassiter: Where's Brandon? He's supposed to be in the ring!

Bonnie: I don't know.

[Craig turns towards her and glares.]

Lassiter: I thought you were my head of production. When did you see him last?

Bonnie: Um, I didn't. I don't think anybody's seen him.

Lassiter: What?! Why didn't you tell me?

Bonnie: You told me not to enter his dressing room. You said he wasn't to be bothered.

[The camera shakes as someone pushes by and then Lee Todd is standing in the dressing room.]

Todd: That was very impressive, Lassiter. I hope all my matches are this easy. You know, I came to this fed so I could do some ass-kicking. Now where's my competition?

Lassiter: God-dammit, I don't know!

Todd: You know, some snot-nosed punk had the nerve to say that I'm not the real LWA champion because I never beat Shane Brandon. Now, I don't normally listen to kids, but I've got a reputation to maintain as an LWA founding father.

[Again, the camera shakes. This time, Marcus Ash pushes his way into the room.]

Reaper: God-dammit, Leroy, what's going on?

Lassiter: It's Craig, and I'll be damned if I know. Brandon isn't one to no-show like this.

Reaper: Well, have you seen him? Is he even in town?

Lassiter: Actually, I haven't seen him at all. I was talking to Hoss over the phone, and he was the one who made the commitment. Bonnie, get Hoss on the phone.

[Bonnie pulls out a folder, and scans through a list of names before plugging her headset into a cellphone, and making the call. After a few seconds, she responds.]

Bonnie: Bad news, boss.

Lassiter and Reaper: What?

Bonnie: The number has been disconnected. It looks like we've been hoodwinked.

Reaper: Dammit! We've got no main event! You and your stupid "flip a coin". It looks like I'm going to have to drum something up before these Newfie bastards rip this building apart.

[Marcus storms out of the room.]

Todd: You know something, Lassiter, this reeks of amateur. If you don't have anyone for me to humiliate, I'm leaving. Maybe I'll go and call Prez Brown and see if he's got a spot open for me on Ricochet.

[Lee Todd turns and leaves.]

Bonnie: What do we do now? We've got dead air until Mr. Ash can find a replacement main event.

Lassiter: Jesus, I don't know. Send the Shinobi's out there.

Bonnie: Against who?

Lassiter: Anybody! Just take care of it. I've got to find out who's responsible for this crap.

[The show cuts to a long, lingering crowd shot. The shot is obviously pre-taped, as the fans are all cheering wildly. After a couple of minutes, the show cuts backstage once gain. Arthur "Crusader" Sage smiles his Cheshire grin as the camera pans to show him face to face with Marcus Ash, somewhere in the backstage area. ]

Crusader: It's funny... it really is. The fact that you need me to save you in a situation you have put yourself in. You want me to pull you out of a hole after all you have done to me.

Reaper: Listen here you no good bastard...you work for me, you are under contract with me, and if I tell you to wrestle, you wrestle...it is a simple as that. And this isn't my hole, its Lassiter's.

Crusader: Marcus my friend...I will not wrestle...because I hate you...it is a simple as that. I will enjoy watching you fail here tonight...very, very much. So go ahead...fine me...do what you want...after all, I'm rich. See ya smiley.

[Crusader walks away from Ash just as Sheila Moore is seen running up.]

Reaper: You'll fucking pay for kicking me when I'm down you son of a bitch.... what... what do you want?

Sheila: They are here...you have your main event, I already talked to them and they are ready to go.

[Ash suddenly takes off.]

Sheila: Hey, wait! Where are you going?

Reaper: The ring!

[The scene cuts back to a laughing Grumpy and a near crying Dutch who was obviously the victim of another nose shocking.]

Grumpy: HAHA...hmp!!

Dutch: You are going to burn in hell for tormenting me.

Grumpy: Good! I think....

[A sudden blasting of static erupts over the massive speakers as the lights dim and soon the solemn words of Nirvana's "Lake of Fire" begin to echo...]

[Suddenly another blast of static triggers a very familiar voice which speaks simply..."Lets Dance...", as a Gunshot sounds bringing to life the disturbing sounds of Marilyn Manson's "AntiChrist Superstar". The fans explode as the pictures of a hand of poker cards, three 8s and two aces, Dead mans Hand, shimmers over the Reapertron and is replaced by pictures of strip clubs, bar room brawls, the anatomy of a shotgun and the gleaming black hull of a 1969 Dodge Charger 426 hemi. A pulsing gray and black light begins flickering wildly around the crowd and then, step by step, two dirty black boots caress the stage followed by the duster wearing, long haired, unshaven smug face of the one and only Marcus "The Reaper" Ash. His eyes hid by his silver sunglasses as in one hand he holds his finest double barrel shot gun while gambling away his life in the smoke of a sweet Cuban cigar. His arrogant face erupts into a slick smile as he stares around the arena, the crowd administering his self-proclaimed godhood, or more correctly, anti-godhood. Every chant from the crowd brings Reaper closer and closer to the ring, until finally he leaps upon the apron, steps through the ropes, and stand like a god in the middle, his arms stretched high, and the roar around him seemingly making him a deity. He lowers his arms and reaches for a mike, steadily smiling as he paces around the ring in anticipation.]

Grumpy: Do we have to sit through that every time he comes out here?

Reaper: Ladies and Gentlemen...thank you for your patience tonight because you will be well rewarded. The main event for tonight will feature two of the top FHW superstars, straight from the FHW arena here tonight. Tonight we will have...Joseph "flashback" Knight!!! Vs Stu-E Price!!!!!!!!

[The fans go absolutely nuts as the Syndi-tron shows a side by side clip of both men entering the arena, then suddenly the scene changes to show a giant man running in a loincloth and a holding a maul...and "Greet the sacred cow" by primus begins to play. The fans go nuts in a horrendous amount of booing as "Better than Jesus" Gary Frat makes his way onto the entrance ramp.]

Reaper: Frat! What the hell are you doing interrupting me!

Frat: Listen here Ash, I have no time for your bullshit, I came here to make a point. Earlier tonight you bloody newfs never treated me with any respect. You booed are match, you booed me, and you booed are match.

Grumpy: Not too bright is he.

Frat: Well you have to show respect to the only man to come here like me...I am a legend damn it!! I was once the number one contender...

[Suddenly "Welcome Burden" by Disturbed begins to echo. Frat looks around wildly and suddenly the fans erupt as a figure holding a Singapore cane walks out behind him. It's Illegally Extreme Eric Manson.]

Dutch: My god Eric Extreme just walked in!!!! He pokes Frat on the shoulder who turns around just in time to be crowned hard by that Kendo stick!!!

Grumpy: Singapore cane.

Dutch: Whatever! He drills him in the head with it again and blood goes flying!!! Better than Jesus is tiltering over the edge of the entrance ramp!!!

Grumpy: Better than Jesus better be able to fly.

Dutch: Crack!! My god what impact from a perfectly lined up shot by Manson! And down he goes!! Frat just fell off the entrance ramp and now Extreme is holding up that cane and the fans are going nuts!!! Ash is smiling in the ring...I don't think I have ever witnessed Ash smiling over something done by Eric Extreme! Now they are leaving as Doc Andrews and Doctor Zambula are checking on Frat. Grumpy...Grumpy?

[Grumpy is over at the LWA announce team desk in a heated argument with Jim Browski...after a few moments Grumpy gives him the finger and begins walking back. It then cuts to the LWA team.]

Gallivan: What the hell was that all about?

Jim: I don't want to talk about it.

[The camera pans up to the ring, where Ryan Lockheart is bent over the top rope, having a heated discussion with a member of the UWS ring crew. He takes a quick look at the camera on him, and steps back into the ring. He cocks his head up while he listens to his earpiece, then raises his microphone.]

Lockheart: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a tag team affair,and is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring at this time, at a combined weight of 444 lbs... THE SHINOBIS!!!

[The theme for Ninja Gaiden begins to play and the Shinobis make their way towards the ring. Both are dressed in black ninja outfits with the Roman numerals "I" and "II" written on their chest in what appears to be masking tape. Shinobi II is holding a bamboo cane in one hand.]

Jim: So, were the Shinobis just hanging out backstage?

Gallivan: Apparently. They've always been around the LWA, but from what I've been told, they have yet to sign an LWA contract.

Lockheart: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined weight of... approximately over 300 pounds...

Gallivan: Approximately over 300 pounds? Don't paint yourself in a corner there, Ryan.

Lockheart: Mitch and Leon!!!

["Blackened" by Metallica begins to play, as two guy jump out through the entrance curtain. Both men are jumping up and down and slapping the hands of the unimpressed fans on their way to the ring. Both men are dressed in dirty jeans and t-shirts with workboots on their feet.]

Jim: So, who are these guys again?

Gallivan: Mitch and Leon. Unless I'm mistaken, they are two members of our hard-working ring crew.

Jim: What?

Gallivan: Yes, the Shinobis are about to take on two members of our ring crew. If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then you're wondering just what makes them think they can wrestle.

Jim: No, I'm wondering if those are the guys who took the tables out of the ring after that whole Enigma debacle.

Gallivan: Jim, did you just say, "debacle"?

Jim: Yeah, I was gonna go for "incident", but I don't want to get typecast, you know?

Gallivan: Well, we are ready for this replacement match. Shinobi I is in the ring against... um, is that Mitch?

Jim: No, I'm pretty sure it's Leon.

Gallivan: Why do you say that?

Jim: Because he looks very "professional".

Gallivan: They lock up, and Shinobi I just boots him in the midsection. He locks on a Front Facelock... then turns it into a Vertical Suplex. Shinobi I holds him up in the air... then finally drops him!

Jim: Did you hear what I said? I said he looks professional. Get it? Leon... the Professional?

Gallivan: So? Now, Shinobi I is stomping on... I'm going to call him Mitch. He reaches out, and tags in Shinobi II, and now both men are stomping on him.

Jim: Gallivan, if you're not going to acknowledge my wit, then I just won't say anything.

Gallivan: Suits me just fine. Julio finally puts a stop to this and Shinobi I heads back to the ring apron. Shinob II lifts up Mitch... Tombstone Piledriver!

Jim: Nope, I'm not going to say another word.

Gallivan: Good. Shinobi II has just slapped an STF on Mitch, and this kid is in pain in his first ever wrestling match.

Jim: Not a word.

Gallivan: Julio is checking on him. Leon looks anxious to get in the ring, but it doesn't look like his partner is going to be able to make the tag.

[The fans, who did not seem interested in this match in the least, finally start to make some noise.]

Gallivan: Well, these fans are finally showing some respect for the Shinobis, a quality tag team.

Jim: That's not it.

Gallivan: I thought you weren't talking to me.

Jim: Ok, I'll just say two words... Lee... F'n'... Todd.

[The fans actually start to cheer as Lee Todd jumps from seemingly nowhere into the ring, wielding a steel chair.]

Gallivan: It's Todd, and he's got a weapon! Julio immediately steps in front of him, but gets shoved to the mat. Shinobi II breaks the hold and stands up... BUT GETS PLASTERED ACROSS THE HEAD BY TODD!!!

Jim: He went down like a ton of bricks.

Gallivan: Leon, or maybe Mitch climbs through the ropes... but Lee rams the edge of the chair into his ribs! He kicks Leon in the chest, sending him bouncing off the ropes... THEN CLOCKS HIM ACROSS THE HEAD WITH THE CHAIR!!!

Jim: Looks like Lee is kicking some ass afterall.

Gallivan: I've got to think that he's also sending a message to everyone in the LWA. Mitch tries to get up off the canvas, but Lee just golfs him across the ear with the steel chair!!!

Jim: Ouch!

Gallivan: There's just one man standing, Shinobi I, and Lee is taunting him in that ring. Julio Suave wisely bailed out of the ring, and he's signalling for the bell. I guess this match is over.

Jim: Duh.

Gallivan: Shinobi I, the larger of the two masked men, steps through the ropes and charges at Lee. Todd swings, but Shinobi I ducks under the chair! He hits Lee with a standing Mafia Kick that drives him back into the corner!!!

Jim: He also dropped the chair.

Gallivan: Shinobi I wrings his hands, then charges into the corner... Drop Toehold by Lee Todd!!! He sent Shinobi I throat-first onto the bottom rope!

Jim: That came out of nowhere.

Gallivan: Shinobi I rolls into the middle of the ring, holding his throat. He crawls up to his hands and knees, but Lee is right there... BAM!!! HE DDTS SHINOBI I ONTO THE CHAIR!!!

Jim: That's ring positioning for ya.

Gallivan: Waitaminute... Shinobi II is back in the ring! Todd spins around to meet him, and drives his boot into Shinobi II's groin... FUCK U BY LEE TODD!!! He just laid out Shinobi II with that Hangman's Neckbreaker, and these fans seem to appreciate not having to watch that tag match.

Jim: Hell, I'm getting paid to sit here and I sure as hell appreciated it.

Gallivan: Fans, Todd is leaving as fast as he arrived, but I'm getting word that Zeke is going to try and catch him before he leaves the building.

[The show cuts backstage where cub reporter Zeke is standing behind the entrance curtain with microphone in hand. Todd bursts through the curtain, still holding the chair, and walks right past Zeke. Zeke rushes to keep up with him.]

Zeke: Mr. Todd, can I ask you a few questions?

[Lee says nothing, but continues to stride down the hallway.]

Zeke: You said you were leaving after your match with Shane Brandon fell through. Can you tell me just why you came out and demolished those guys in the ring? Are you trying to send a message to the talent in the UWS?

Todd: I missed my ride.

[Zeke stops short, leaving Todd to head off on his own. Zeke just shrugs at the camera, as the scene changes to show medics in both Stu Prices and Flashback's locker rooms. Both men are in a bloody state. It then cuts to Corporal who is standing beside Commissioner Cid.]

Corporal: Well fans, this is the Corporal here, and well, I don't know what to say. It appears as if both men, both Stu Price and Flashback have been attacked. We don't know who is responsible right now, but we do know that Crusader was seen leaving the building just after the incident happened. So Cid, what does this mean for the main event?

Cid: It means we need a miracle.

[The scene cuts back to show Grumpy and Dutch, both men in a heated debate.]

Dutch: NO!!!

Grumpy: Hmp...

Dutch: I told you for the last time...I am not a pedophile!

Grumpy: Hmp...hmp..hmmninin..hmp..

Dutch: Now...well fans it looks as if the main event for the evening has been shot...

[Suddenly a voice comes over the Syndi-tron...]

[This suddenly changes to "The Zoo" By Bruce Dickinson as the fat bastard himself, Big Bad Dave Snow, former co-president of the SWWF, saunters onto the entrance ramp with a smirk the size of texas. The fans boo him as he makes an effort to show off his black attire, more over his shirt that says "I killed the SWWF". He then laughs to himself and makes his way to the ring.]

Grumpy: What the hell is this!?!

Dutch: It's Dave Snow!!! The man that destroyed the SWWF!!!

Grumpy: Look at him la...just as arrogant as the day he was ripped from his mothers gullet...fat bastard.

Snow: Well, well, well...guess who's back...back again...fatty's back...hide the ham...Well, maybe not, but either way, trouble has just arrived.

Grumpy: Hmp...

Snow: You know I was sitting back the past few days and wondering...what kind of a bloody fed is Marcus Ash and Leroy Brown...oh, I'm sorry, somebody is having an identity crisis...Craig Lassiter...what kind of a bloody fed are they going to put out. And that is when I saw the roster...my god, Archangel...talk about a fucking has been. What I bet the fans don't know is that Archangel needs to have knee surgery every time he wrestlers just to keep himself from falling down. Then there is Crusader...nobody cared when you went to the NWC...nobody cares that you're here. Who else...Oh, Lee Todd...my god man, the last time anybody saw you wrestling it was in child pornography...

Grumpy: By, he is an ignorant bastard isn't he...and I don't like that...

Dutch: Hmp...

Grumpy: Heh!

Snow: Ok, ok...bla, bla, bla...who the hell cares about the roster...point is, I figured, what the hell, I think you need somebody like me on that roster? Why? Who else is going to keep Ash in check...I mean really. Marcus Ash came to the SWWF and made my life a living hell. I am just returning the favor. That is why I just signed a contract with the OWF. Oh, and for those who think I can't wrestle...well, lets just say I have been damn well occupied since I murdered the SWWF. In fact...speaking of which...if I was the guys in the back, id watch out before the same thing happens here...

[He simply smiles as the fans begin throwing trash in the ring...some of them even throw food.]

Grumpy: MY GOD DON'T THROW FOOD IN THERE!! IF HE FEEDS AFTER MIDNIGHT HE WILL BECOME A GREMLIN!!!

Snow: Snow, let us see, here tonight the entire fed has performed in some way or fashion...and you have no main event. My God Ash, I gave you more credit than that. I guess I should have known you were only competent in the SWWF because of White's big checkbook. I mean sure, you had those assholes Flashback and Price...but they didn't put up too much of a fight did they...hehe...

Dutch: Snow attacked Flashback and Price!! My god when they get wind of this they are going to be pissed!!

Snow: So fans...I bid you adew in knowing that the last thing your going to see in place of your main event is my ugly face, laughing at you all. Fuck you Ash you piece of shit...you have no power...you have no balls...and you can't do anything about me.

[Suddenly "Antichrist superstar" begins to play as the smug looking Marcus Ash Saunters onto the entrance ramp.]

Reaper: Well, well, well...I thought I smelt pussy... (He smiles) You know Snow, until now I was having a real bad day. After all, our show is pretty much ruined. We have lost every match we had planned to some pissed of mistress of bad luck...and, I was about to shoot Cid. But then you came out here...

Snow: I must say Ash I do enjoy watching the pain cross your eyes...it is uplifting...

Reaper: Uplifting...this coming from a man who's gut hangs down to his knees.

Snow: Ouch Ash...gut shot, nice one too...You make that one up the last time you were losing all your money to a fat ugly prostitute named...Mrs. Ash?

Reaper: Oh giggle all you want doughboy but your now under OWF contract...and as I was saying before, I was having the worst possible day somebody could have...and then you showed up...and now everything is fine...

Snow: I fail to see how me standing in the middle of your ring when you should be having a main event is fine...Like it even matters at this point, half the crowd has already left and nobody is watching the show anymore, they are all watching FHW.

Reaper: Oh, that may be true...but...I will get one moment of relaxation here tonight as I announce my main event...Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight in this ring you will see the man before you...BIG FAT DAVE SNOW...taking on...

Snow: Who! Who the hell are you going to have me fight? Extreme? He isn't under contract yet, I checked it out. Crusader won't fight for you, Hoser is loaded, Archangel...I doubt it you will chance having his title anywhere near me...so you have you got? Red Zachary? Hell, howbout the fucking ghost of Reed Rothchild while your at it.

Reaper: No, no, no...howbout the meanest bastard to every walk in this fed...he man who until now was the meanest ref to ever walk into this fed...howbout the Drill instructor for Reaper's boot camp...how bout, the BIG BAD WOLF DI ROGERS!!!!

[Suddenly "Three Little Pigs" by green jelly begins to echo as the mad man himself, DI Rogers, dressed in his camo gear, bald head and big colonel custard mustache, makes his way to the ring. Snow doesn't know what to do.]

Dutch: Well fans the bell has rung and the Reaper is taking a seat next to us.

Grumpy: Hmp.

Reaper: I don't want to hear a word out of you Grumpy...now, I got a funny feeling this bastard is behind half the shit that happened here tonight.

Dutch: Well right now, both men are squaring off, and the LWA Julio Suave is on his way to the ring to call the match. Snow may be a large man, but, he is incredible shape otherwise...

Grumpy: A nice pumpkin shape.

Dutch: Well Rogers and Snow lock up...Snow forces Rogers into the corner...and pounds him in the forehead with a hard right punch. He drills him again and Irish whips him into the opp...no, reversal by Rogers into the opposite turnbuckle! Snow comes a crashing in, and Rogers is behind him with a massive bash to the back of the head. What the hell...Rogers just dropped!!!

Grumpy: The old farts having a heart attack!!!

Reaper: What the hell just happened!!! The son of a bitch is up to something!!!

Dutch: Rogers is out on the ground!! And Snow is climbing to the top rope...he is signaling for the Cannonball...I thought that was Philipae's move!!

Reaper: He is stealing it!! Jesus this can be happening, it hasn't even been a minute yet!

Dutch: Snow jumps off and hits Rogers with the cannonball!! He stands up and puts his foot on Rogers...1

Reaper: No fucking way... (Ash gets up and runs towards the ring as Julie lays down the 2 for the count.)

Dutch: 3!!! Snow wins it!!!

Dutch: Ash is in the ring and Snow just darted outside...he has a mic...

Snow: How fucking stupid do you think I am Ash...hey! Don't you think I knew you would put me in a match here tonight as soon as you thought you could get me...well, Aeh-to-be-bainty!!! You can't stop the fat man!!! I learned a few tricks from you Ash...I learned a lot of tricks from a lot of people!!!

[Suddenly it is as if Ash clicks in to what has happened and stares up at the rafters. The entire arena watches as a figure holding a tranquilizer gun from the top of the building laughs and runs off.]

Dutch: My god!! Snow had somebody tranquilize Rogers!!! This is nuts...wait a second!!

Grumpy: This night isn't over yet!!!

[Suddenly "Bodyrock" by moby begins to play as Stu Price charges down the ramp.]

Dutch: Stu Price just clipped Snow in the back of the head!!! Where the hell did he come from!!! Snow rolls over and turns back around with a nasty uppercut. Price nails Snow and tosses him into the guard rail...now what!!

[Suddenly "Lose yourself" by Eminem begins to play and Joseph "Flashback" Knight charges down towards Stu Price. He cracks Stu and then drills Snow with a hard punch knocking him over the guard rails.]

Grumpy: I thought these guys got attacked!!!

Dutch: They did, but Snow didn't get the job done. Flashback jumps onto the guardrails and dropkicks Snow deeper into the fans...hey, what the hell, leave me alone!!!

Grumpy: HAAHA!!!!

[Suddenly Stu Price grabs Dutch and yanks him towards Flashback. Tosses him over the rails and into the flashbacks arms. Then he sticks Dutch's fingers up his nose and Flashback gets shocked.]

Grumpy: HEEHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! Well fans ya bunch of pussy's with that queer gone I can end the show right!!! See ya later ya little bastards, cause I'm quitting tonight and not coming back!!!!! HA!!!!!!

[As Grumpy leaves the ring area, Price and Flashback continue to brawl in the crowd. Several fights break out in the crowd. A few overzealous fans tumble over the guardrail. Seun slowly looks up at them, then with surprising quickness, charges... Avalanching both men into the rail.]

Gallivan: My God! All hell has broken loose! We've got a bunch of brawls going on all over us. Waitaminute! That's Scar!

[The wild youngster, Scar charges to ringside and dives over the guardrail, crashing into Price and Flashback.]

Jim: Yeeha! This is better.

Gallivan: Now we've got a three man brawl, and... waitaminute! The Mexican Giant, Paco just waded through the crowd!!! He barrels into the three men. We've got wrestlers coming out of the woodwork out here!

Jim: And that's exactly where Paco came from... the woodwork. Hey, isn't that the Lone Gunman!?!

[Another form bursts through the rioting crowd and throws himself into the brawl.]

Gallivan: That's not Kevin Burke... I think that's his big brother Mike! I saw him wrestling under the name, "Demolition Man."

Jim: (ducks a flying shoe) Jesus! This is getting rough. Hey, Seun get over here!

Gallivan: He's busy trying to control the crowd. Mr. Toasty Bacon and "Stunts" are out here as well trying to calm these people down. Price, Flashback, Scar, Paco, and Mike Burke are still brawling... and I believe a few fans have joined in! This is insane!

Jim: Speaking of insane, here comes Leo Kirk!!!

Gallivan: Is there any end to them? Leo Kirk just jumped out of the faceless crowd and leapt into the melee! My God, we've got wrestlers punching fans left and right!!! This is a lawsuit in the making! Good God! It's Edmund Paine II!!! Edmund Paine just came out of nowhere and he's getting into the act. Fans, I don't know what to tell you.

Jim: That's it. Grumpy had the right idea. I'm getting out of here before they set the ring on fire.

[As the fight gets more and more out of control, the cameraman gets knocked to the ground and we see feet and hear shouting. The scene goes black as we see the last few sparks fly from Dutch.]