Brock Whitworth vs Bruiser Breton
Bristol Bush vs Crimson Mask
Those That Would Inflict Ill vs The Phenomenons vs Jason Richards & Johnny Ajax
The Rabble vs LEGION (Tag Team Championship)
Atlas vs Sammy Devine vs Andellion Moonwater vs Cuzin Eddie vs Kris Jacobson (Heritage Championship)
Pat Gordon Jr. vs Joshua Rapture
Abbey Graves vs Jay Deschain (NAPW World Championship)
Fade in at the back entrance to the Polish Hall, a bizarre confrontation is going on. Lots of shouting, lots of security guards making a human wall between the arena, and the people causing the problem in question. In your starring role of the evening, we have The Phenomenons – Shane Stone and Eric Cameron – sitting atop two giant camels, arguing vehemently with the leader of this group of security guards. The Head Guard is brandishing a clipboard, waving it over his head frantically.
Eric Cameron: Get out of our way, Canadians! Grrr!!!
Cameron swings his stick wildly, trying to drive away the security guards that are preventing his entrance. Security guards keep their heads down, making sure not to get in the way of the brutal battering sure to come from the professional wrestler.
Security Guard: We have strict orders! No live mammals allowed on live NAPW events! We could lose our security deposit on the arena, we could get fined by the Athletics Boards…
Shane Stone: These are no live mammals! This is Montezuma! And this is Alibaba! They’ve never missed one of our matches! Except for that time they got kidnapped, and we had to wrestle a ladder match with all of our kidnapped animals suspended above the ring … hoo boy, that was intense.
The security guards look completely baffled by this entire situation. Eric Cameron manages to connect with the head of one of the guards and shouts in joy. The guard goes down like a ragdoll. Perhaps overselling to get a future lawsuit payout, perhaps because he’s a random nameless mook and Eric Cameron is an Important Person.
He’s on the roster. Guard #8 isn’t.
Security Guard: Don’t make us taser these camels! No live mammals allo—
A loud GRONK interrupts the security guard, who has been looking awfully exasperated. And that is when the camera turns on its axis to show the newcomers… Sitting on a pair of llamas. Shaggy coats, long necks, derpy eyes, the works. Behind them, a purple DeLorean DMC-12 is slowly rolling up, NAPW’s newest interview-based employee Bobby Korderas at the wheel.
And as for the two newcomers sitting on the llamas, it was fairly obvious who they were. Especially since one was standing on llamaback, arms out to both sides. He wore a white linen jacket, matching pants, and a black “NAPW – 100% CANADA APPROVED” tee-shirt(Free from the merchandising department!). Looking awfully… dashing, Lambert Haniel leapt off of his llama, landing in a forward tumble, and came to his feet just alongside the Phenomenons, atop their camels.
Lambert never lost that dashing grin, and now, turns it onto the Phenomenons.
Lambert Haniel: Gentlemen.
Shane waves happily at Lambert, but then goes back to glaring with intense hatred at his tag team partner, Nobody. Meanwhile, Lambert looks to the security guard, taking a look over the chunky man and his vastly important clipboard. The man blinks, taken aback by not one tag team, but two showing up with weird animals in tow.
Security Guard: You-… Uh… You can’t bring those animals in here. The fines would be huge, an-
Lambert digs into his pocket, and comes out with a little leather sack. The sack clinks and jingles, in the way that only coinage could muster. A flick of the wrist, and the sack lands with a loud noise on the security guard’s clipboard. The security guard looks down into the sack, fingers spreading the mouth of the bag, and his eyes go hugely wide.
Lambert Haniel: Everything copacetic, bru?
The security guard nods, toddling off to the side to count his new moneys, as Lambert wheels on the Phenomenons. The two tag team members of the crew, as well as all of their assorted hangers-on and friends, watch Lambert closely. With the Security Crew dragging their concussed brother off, the scene is now Phenomenal Army versus Those Who Would Inflict Ill.
A few feet back, the mountain who rides a llama, Nobody, climbs off her trusty steed. The llama gives a groan of relief, before stepping up to its brother. The two llamas appear to be conspiring. Lambert extends a hand to the Phenomenons, grinning charmingly. Nobody crosses her arms over her chest, watching the Phenoms closely through her white, faceless mask.
Lambert Haniel: It’s a treat to get ta meet you fellas before our match… I love everything you do.
Shane Stone: Lambert!!! The only cool person in all of Canada! YES! Can I hav—
Eric Cameron: What’s SHE doing here?!
The Phenomenons glare past Lambert and the masked Nobody, who still sits atop her llama. Eric snarls – Shane actually barks.
Nobody simply tilts her head to the side, glaring at the two men on smaller steeds. An incredible amount of intimidation and menace is reflected in that simple gesture, and Shane Stone visibly shivers. Nobody lifts one big hand, clenching her hand into a fist. Slowly, individual knuckles crack and pop. Shane takes a big step back and to the side, and Eric realizes that he was standing between Nobody and his erstwhile partner.
Eric Cameron: Lambert, you know we really like you. Granted, we have no clue what you were thinking when you called your team “Those Who Would Inflict Three” … that’s just silly. But still, we like you!
Shane Stone: But HER!!!
Eric Cameron: She attacked us with biological warfare, Lambert! Vengeance must be paid!
Lambert Haniel: First of all, since you believe my team is named “Those Who Would Inflict Three”, how sure are you that you have found out who all of the members of my team are?
Eric’s eyes widen significantly.
Eric Cameron: You just blew my mind.
Lambert gives that friendly grin, sauntering over to run a hand along the chest of one of the huge camels. Alibaba looks down to Lambert, lips working for a moment. The big camel seems to be debating firing a loogie off at Lambert.
Lambert Haniel: Or could it be a reference to the pinfall, as in, a three-count?
Shane Stone: Layers.
Lambert Haniel: Like an onion.
He reaches up, running his hand along the camel’s cheek, before leaning up and whispering something into the camel’s ear. Alibaba’s eyes widen, and Lambert digs a hand into his linen jacket’s inner pocket, then offers a small treatie from his palm to the camel. Alibaba licks the thing right off Lambert’s hand, before Montezuma leans over to join in the snackytime.
As Montezuma and Alibaba, the Phenomenal Camels, bow to Lambert in thanks for the snack, the Phenomenons topple off their trusty steeds. Eric Cameron rolls back to his feet and stalks back towards Lambert, while Shane Stone falls into a heap by a soda machine.
Eric Cameron: How … how dare you!! No one tells the Phenomenal Camels what to do! Montezuma, spit on him!!!
Rising back to their feet, the Phenomenal Camels … wander off to socialize with the llamas. Eric Cameron is incensed at the treachery, duplicity, sedition …
Eric Cameron: You … you … JERK!
Shane Stone: Eric!!! This is no place for that kind of language!
Eric Cameron: You’re right. I’m sorry.
Lambert smiles a disarming grin, then reaches out to Eric. The Phenomenon startles, almost falling into a fighting stance, before Lambert takes up Eric’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze between both of his own hands. Lambert purses his lips, whistling a soft, jaunty tune.
Eric Cameron: The… the itching! It’s stopped!
Shane Stone: YOU’RE A WIZARD
Lambert Haniel: I am a man of many talents. And we’ll soon see how that translates into the ring. The four of us have a match in the very near future, that will be of great import to the tag team division. I wish for whichever of our teams win… We will take the fight directly to the Rabble or LEGION. Seize the moment, and define this new era of NAPW with our legend.
A moment passes, the Phenomenons staring at Lambert.
Eric Cameron: Can we hire you to give us motivational speeches before all our matches?
Shane Stone: Seriously.
Lambert Haniel: One thing before you go, gentlemen… I realize that we’re in a business of violence and brutality, so I wanted to make sure I said this. Whatever happens in the ring… Let’s leave it in the ring. No need to get upset over who kicked who in the head, who tried to choke a Scar to death…
And with that, Lambert Haniel steps backward, both hands slipping into his linen jacket’s pockets. Behind them, a sudden blaring of a horn draws the attention of both the Phenomenons, the llamas(llama?) and the camels! The camera turns to see BK, red-faced, making apologetic motions with his hands. When everyone turns back to Lambert… He and Nobody are gone.
Eric Cameron: Rod damnit, he’s just too cool to hate!!!
Shane Stone: In retrospect, I kind of miss the lice. Suddenly I feel very lonely. And did you notice him completely avoid talking about Nobody?
Eric Cameron: We’ll need to win him away from her.
Sadly, the Phenomenons stalk off, unsure of whether they hate their upcoming opponents or not… Fade to black.
“ONE TWO THREE GO!”
Cut to the cheering crowd inside the unofficial home of NAPW, Polish Hall, all around the ring and looking forward to a hell of a show! At ringside, it’s BILL HEWSON and JACK JONES!
BILL HEWSON: Welcome wrestling fans to Edmonton, Alberta! Whether you’re attending live or watching on iPPV… it’s MAYDAY! I’m Bill Hewson, joined as always at ringside by my broadcast partner, Jack “Attack” Jones!
JACK JONES: I’ve got to tell you, Hewson, I’m excited for tonight! It feels like a new beginning!
BILL HEWSON: Indeed it does! After last month’s events at “House of Cards,” it seems like so much that had been building since NAPW relaunched last October came to a head. And now, we’ve got some huge debuts tonight including two new tag teams, some fantastic singles competitors – and an entire stable just raring to get a foothold in Alberta!
JACK JONES: Not only that! There’s not one. Not two. THREE different championships on the line tonight! And there’s going to be at least one new champion!
BILL HEWSON: The first official Heritage Champion of the new generation will be crowned tonight in an exciting five man match! Cuzin Eddie, Kris Jacobson, Andellion Moonwater Sammy Devine and Atlas will go head-to-head-to-head-to-head-to-head to claim the belt – and all of them are hungry for their first taste of NAPW gold.
JACK JONES: That’s great Hewson… but I was referring to the NAPW World Title. There is NO WAY that “The Perfect Storm” Jay Deschain is leaving here tonight without the Championship. Not with his new attitude.
BILL HEWSON: There’s no love lost between Deschain or the NAPW Champion, Abbey Graves. Ever since “Battlebowl” in December, they’ve been taking shots across the bow at each other. It was only a matter of time before they met in the ring… and tonight, it’s for the highest stakes of them all.
JACK JONES: Plus, we get to see the UNDEFEATED Tag Team Champs, the Rabble, put a stop to the rampage of the LEGION! What a treat!
BILL HEWSON: Masakre and Matanza are a deadly pair, and they’ve shown they’re more a force of nature than a tag team. Can the numbers game work in the Rabble’s favour, even without their Rabble Rousers on hand?
JACK JONES: Magic 8-Ball says “YES,” Hewson. Wait, no, it says “ask again later.”
BILL HEWSON: Put that thing down and LETS GET TO THE ACTION!
“Oh, something tells me
I’m never gonna live this one down
But I’ll try but I’m gonna need a quick hand,
A sharp eye, a smooth talker
Just to play this one out to the very end…”
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first … weighing in at TWO-HUNDRED and TWENTY-FIVE pounds. From Brisbane, Australia. He is “The Pride of Brisbane”… BROOOOOOOCK WHITWORTH!
As Four Year Strong’s “Heroes Get Remembered, Legends Never Die” plays through the arena, Whitworth steps out from the back, dressed in red and blue trunks with black boots.
BILL HEWSON: And here is he, Jack Attack! The first of the new SCARS members we’ll be seeing tonight!
JACK JONES: We’ve seen some great things from these Scars on the circuits in the past!
“Now when I was just a little boy standin’ to my Daddy’s knee
My Poppa said son don’t let the man get you do what he done to me
‘Cause he’ll get you ’cause he’ll get you now now.
I can remember the fourth of July runnin’ through the backwood bare.
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin’ chasin’ down a hoodoo there
Chasin’ down a hoodoo there.
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou …”
FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! Weighing in at THO-HUNDRED and SEVENTY-SEVEN pounds. Hailing from Crowley, Louisiana! He is the “Bayou Brawler” … he is BRUISERRRRRR… BRETON!
Bruiser Breton stomps out of the backstage area as the arena is serenaded by Creedence Clearwater Revival. One of the straps on his big overalls is broken, and he grins out at the Canadian audience.
BILL HEWSON: That’s an interesting man right there, Jack Attack.
JACK JONES: And he’s the guy I’ve got my money on. My favorite thing about rednecks: they’re usually too stupid to feel pain!
BILL HEWSON: Well, this is definitely going to be a mismatch of styles here, folks! Brock Whitworth, like the rest of his Scars teammates, is best known for a technical style using efficient, quick moves. And Bruiser Breton …
JACK JONES: Punches people in the face really hard.
BILL HEWSON: Bruiser Breton’s a more classic wrestler, utilizing the instruction of Harley Race to combine an unpolished brawling style with devastating impact maneuvers. And here we go!
DING DING DING
The two combatants circle each other, sizing one another up, with Bruiser Breton a head taller and Brock Whitworth staying low to the mat to take advantage of his speed advantage. After several rotations, they both lunge towards each other and lock up. Breton quickly gains advantage of the lock up, shoving Whitworth to the ground.
BILL HEWSON: There’s a little bit of a size disadvantage here for the Australian, Jack Attack!
Whitworth runs with the shove, hopping back to his feet. Bruiser Breton immediately goes with the attack, faking a left and then swinging his taped right fist at Whitworth’s head with knock-out intentions! But Whitworth slips underneath, slides around Breton, grabbing him with a rear waistlock, then driving Breton to the ground with a Russian Leg Sweep!
JACK JONES: He got the big guy down a lot faster than I thought he would!
Bruiser Breton leaps back to his feet, roars with rage, and charges forward at Whitworth – who immediately sidesteps, taking advantage of the speed advantage as he snaps the bigger man over his body with a hip toss. Bruiser Breton gets back up, and charges forward again — just in time to be taken down with another hip toss! Bruiser gets up. Charges. Hip toss.
JACK JONES: Starting to get dizzy watching this …
Gets up. Charges. Hip toss. Gets up. Hip toss—no! Bruiser pulls back at the last minute and shoves his thumbs into Whitworth’s eyes!
JACK JONES: There you go, Bruiser! Work the head!
Whitworth stumbles away from the big Louisiana brawler, clutching in pain at his face, but the Bruiser charges forward directly at the prone back of the man from Brisbane, clipping him with a brutal Hansen Lariat across the back of the head! Brock’s heels go flying over his head as he crashes down to the mat with the impact.
BILL HEWSON: Something tells me prone on the mat isn’t where you want to be with that man!
Bruiser Breton immediately begins stomping the back of Whitworth’s head with his huge combat boots, again … and again … and again, before head referee Morgan Smythe sticks her diminutive frame between them and shoves the Bayou brawler back with all of her might.
JACK JONES: Oh come on, let ‘em fight!
Bruiser Breton throws a surprised looking Morgan Smythe over one shoulder, walks to the opposite side of the ring, and sets her down on the top turnbuckle. He turns back around to Brock, charges forward and dives for the Brody Jumping Kneedrop…
No one home!
Breton crashes down to the mat on his knee while Brock Whitworth yanks himself back to his feet, utilizing the top rope. He narrowly beats the big brawler back, and uses the ropes to launch himself into the European Uppercut that knocks the big man back down.
Whitworth waits as Breton starts climbing back to his feet, and then slips behind him into a Full Nelson! As a cheer goes up from the crowd, Whitworth dives forward with the Full Nelson Bulldog … but Breton doesn’t go with him!
BILL HEWSON: Brock Whitworth just isn’t finding any momentum or leverage here against the Bruiser!
Whitworth jumps back to his feet just in time to catch another devastating lariat across his chin, sending him flipping back to the mat again. Bruiser Breton immediately drags him back to his feet, throws him into the ropes, and just begins pummeling him with repeated fists to the head and body.
JACK JONES: And now we have a boxing match!
The huge fists just rain down on Brock Whitworth, bludgeoning him over and over again. Breton rains down several heavy shots on the Australian’s face, cutting him open, before Whitworth can get his arms up to protect his head, and then just begins the work of trying to break ribs with his bandaged hand. Morgan Smythe looks tentative to get in the middle of the two men again.
Whitworth finally ducks one of the massive meat-hooks from Breton, and launches himself into another European uppercut. Bruiser stumbles backwards a step, then two, and just as he goes to move back forward, Whitworth levels him with a picture-perfect dropkick, connecting squarely with the big brawler’s jaw.
BILL HEWSON: And it looks like the Pride of Brisbane isn’t out of this one yet, Jack Attack!
Brock yells to the crowd as Bruiser Brody falls to his knees, slumping over the middle rope. The crowd responds appreciably, urging the technical superstar to continue the attack. And Whitworth does, chopping at the now smaller form of the Bruiser. Brody stumbles back to his feet, but a quick short-arm clothesline drives him right back onto his back.
JACK JONES: He got the big man down!
Feeling the change in momentum, Whitworth sprints back into a corner, signaling to the crowd for the elbow.
BILL HEWSON: It looks like Brock wants to end this one right now with the Kill Shot!
Just as Bruiser Breton gets back to his feet, Brock Whitworth charges forward with the sprinting discus elbow known as the Kill Shot!
… and goes sailing right past as the Bruiser dodges out of the way! Whitworth recovers amazingly fast, but Bruiser Brody spins right along with him, and connects with a devastating Tanaka Roaring Elbow! Whitworth’s head snaps back with the massive impact, his legs fly out from underneath him and into the air above him, and his head slams into the mat hard, where he lies without moving.
JACK JONES: HOLY HELL!
BILL HEWSON: Whitworth’s just been knocked silly … no, he’s knocked OUT!
Brock Whitworth isn’t so much as breathing hard as he lies on the mat. Bruiser Brody smiles at the easy win in front of him … and doesn’t care. The big man backs into the nearest corner, easily lifting himself to the top turnbuckle. He runs one hand through his greasy, stringy hair, smiles happily … and dives off with Harley Race’s Diving Headbutt!
The Brusier’s massive skull connects squarely with the Pride of Brisbane’s forehead, and his body spasms upward with the impact, but otherwise the Scars member is clearly still unconscious.
BILL HEWSON: Whitworth isn’t even in this anymore … and he’s still not covering him!
JACK JONES: I knew it! Always bet on the rednecks!
Bruiser Breton dead-lifts his unconscious opponent up …. And immediately throws on the Cajun Chickenwing! Breton rears back with everything he has, shaking Whitworth around in the submission hold like a ragdoll.
BILL HEWSON: Whitworth can’t even tap out! The Pride of Brisbane is just being mauled here!
Morgan Smythe reaches in tentatively to check Whitworth’s arm once Breton stops flopping him around.
She lifts it … and it falls.
She lifts it once more … and it falls again.
And she lifts it for the third time … and without any sign of consciousness, Whitworth’s arm falls one last time. Smythe calls for the bell.
FRANK WARBURTON: Here is YOUR winner… BRUISER! BRETTTTTTTTTON!
Breton releases the Cajun Chickenwing, and Brock Whitworth slumps into a heap on the mat, unconscious. Bruiser Breton soaks in the jeers of the audience.
JACK JONES: That’s a bad boy from the bayou right there, Bill!
BILL HEWSON: That’s an understatement.
BILL HEWSON: The following matchup should be an interesting double debut, Jack Attack! A former Miss America contestant versus a man claiming to be a True Hero!
JACK JONES: I can already taste the bile coming up the back of my throat over Crimson Mask, Hewson.
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall!
Twangy guitar music, mouth harp, and good ol’ country boys. “American Ride” begins to play, as red, white and blue spotlights begin to shine. The technical term in the biz was “ballyhoo”, when the spotlights begin to gyrate madly around the arena.
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first… weighing in at ONE-HUNDRED and FIFTY-FOUR pounds. From PARADISE VALLEY, Arizona. She is MISS ‘MURRICA… BRISTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL BUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!
With Toby Keith blaring, BRISTOL BUSH steps out from the back, shading her eyes with one hand to look out into the crowd. The lovely lady decorated in the American Flag gives a beautiful smile, then begins to gracefully wave on her way down to the ring. She doesn’t stop to gladhand with the people, of course. But she sure does soak up their attention.
BILL HEWSON: Bush is quite the beautiful woman! I’m excited to see what kind of wrestling skills she brings to the table.
JACK JONES: I really hope this is just ten minutes of her crotchstomping this hero dude.
Bristol rolls in under the bottom rope, before coming to her feet and turning her slightly annoyed focus back toward the entryway.
Overly dramatic music begins to play, with hard drumbeats and musical stings, frantic stringed instruments and lots of bass. The crowd, being good little media absorbers, inch forward on their seats.
FRANK WARBURTON: And her opponent. Weighing in at TWO-HUNDRED and THIRTY pounds! Hailing from Parts Unknown… CRIMSOOOOOOOOOOON! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAASK!
Bright red spotlights and bright orange mixer lights shoot on and aim for the entryway, just in time to catch the Code Red Crusader leaping from the back, chest puffed out and hands planted firmly on his hips!
The Crimson Mask is here!
BILL HEWSON: He certainly looks impressive!
JACK JONES: Yeah, he’s done some weightlifting. Can he bring it in the ring?
The Crimson Mask produces a microphone as he blazes toward the ring, eyes wide under the mask, other hand pointing an index finger down the way.
Crimson Mask: Bristol Bush… The only thing I have to say to you, is the motto I use before all my fights!
A few people in the crowd, having already picked up on the Crimson love, cheer. One boy in the front row waves a Crimson Mask action figure about, super amped to get to see such an awesome superhero in the flesh!
Crimson Mask: No evil under the blood-red sun, will escape the wrath of the Crimson One!
The microphone is handed off to a stagehand, before the Crimson One rolls into the ring. As the Crimson Mask begins to roll to his feet, Bristol rushes in with a kick, hammering the superhero in the ribs! Boo! Mask crashes to his back, and Bristol begins to kick and stomp and drop knees across the ribs of the Crimson Mask, giving the hopeful recruit for Superman v Batman: Dawn of Justice, a real laying in!
BILL HEWSON: Cheap move from Bristol Bush!
JACK JONES: Not for nothing, but the Mask guy DOES outweigh her by a hundred pounds. She’s got to try to press her advantage on the guy, right?
Bush grabs a double handful of the Mask’s hair and mask, dragging him up to his knees. She steps back, taking a pose… before SNAPPING a kick directly into the Mask’s chest! The crack of the kick echoes out to the cheap seats, sending the Crimson Mask out onto his back. Bristol grabs the Mask by the ankle and drags him across the ring, forcing him away from the ring ropes to foil the easy rope-break.
Aaaaaand, she covers the guy for the pinfall!
BILL HEWSON: Bush with the quick horizontal press…
The Crimson Mask kicks out with a mighty fervor, chest heaving! Fists clench at his sides as he sits up, eyes narrowing behind the mask as he glares across the ring at the suddenly-wary Bristol Bush. Popping to his feet, Crimson Mask watches the evildoer… rears a big fist back…
… and offers his open hand to Bristol. The ol’ honorable handshake.
JACK JONES: You have got to be kidding me.
BILL HEWSON: Something to be said for the man’s honorable streak…
Bush takes a step in, looking out to the crowd with a hesitant, mistrustful expression. Then, she glances back to the Mask, who gives his extended hand a shake. Bush reaches in… slooooowly giving her hand forward, and takes the Mask’s hand. A firm, slow handshake between the two. Until Miss ‘Murrica leaps into the air, legs wrapping around the Crimson Mask’s arm, and she flips backwards, sending the Crimson Mask flying across the ring!
The Mask comes to his knees, and as Miss ‘Murrica charges in, the Mask ducks a lunging clothesline, grabs a rear waistlock on Bristol, and pops the hips! The pageanteer comes crashing down on her shoulders, crumpling almost in half from the mighty power of the Crimson Mask!
BILL HEWSON: Bristol’s shown off some major skills, but I think the Mask’s ability is catching up with her!
The Mask pushes up and off the mat, stumbling backwards a few steps. Bristol comes up as well, hand on the back of her neck protectively. The Mask goes to cover up, and Bristol snaps a kick into his midsection, rather than going for the face! Another kick to the stomach, and Bristol grabs the Mask in a tie-up… Before simply Irish whipping him off to the ropes! The Mask rebounds off the ropes, before coming flying back to the Pageantress. Ducking a leaping lariat attempt, the Mask hits the opposite ropes, rebounds, and LEAPS! KERRASH goes his mighty fist, smashing into Bristol’s jaw with a Superman punch!
BILL HEWSON: He calls that the Justice Punch!
JACK JONES: Of course he does. I’m gonna call it the Hawaiian Punch.
With Bristol flat down, the Mask lays across her for a pinfall, hooking one of her legs for the solid pin attempt!
BILL HEWSON: Bristol kicks out at the last moment! AND SHE’S GOT HIS ARM!
Bush manages to snag the Mask’s arm, twisting it out behind his back, and gets him stuck into a hammerlock, facedown! The Pageantrix has gotten awfully mad, and catches the Mask’s forearm between her knees, then begins to arch backwards, putting some torque on the Crimson Mask’s elbow joint!
JACK JONES: Look at the angle she’s got his arm bent! We’re gonna have the first one-armed superhero in NAPW soon!
But the Crimson Mask would not go quietly into that night! Giving a twist, a shimmy and a lurch, the Mask rolls free of her hold, forward rolls to his feet, and hits the ropes! Coming back to the center of the ring, the Mask leaps just as Bristol looks up… SHINING WIZARD!
BILL HEWSON: KNEE OF JUSTICE!
The Mask keeps going, rebounding off the opposite side of the ropes, and Bristol comes back up, half-helped by the impact bouncing her back to her feet, and the Mask leaps… BEAUTIFUL flying dropkick!
JACK JONES: Let me guess, Dropkick of Justice?
BILL HEWSON: No, that’s the Red Missile!
JACK JONES: I’m going to drink my sorrows away.
Bristol manages to come back to her feet, but stumbles and staggers backwards, into the ring corner. The Mask backs up to the opposite corner, then goes rushing across the ring, leaping in midair and sending his entire body crashing into Miss ‘Murrica! Landing in a crouch, the Mask drags Bristol backwards by a collar-and-elbow tieup, then ducks her arm and hooks his across her chest, sambo suplex-style!
BILL HEWSON: I think that I feel the world shaking!
JACK JONES: Wha-…. What?
The Crimson Mask shoots a thumbs-up out to the audience, and a winning grin, before he lifts Bristol up, kicking the leg out, and sends Bristol crashing down onto the mat! The Pageantree is smeared across the canvas!
BILL HEWSON: Crimson Cataclysm!
Academic at this point.
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match… the CRIMSOOOOOOOONNNNN! MASK!
BILL HEWSON: The Crimson Mask takes it! He’s vanquished his first foe here in NAPW!
Crimson Mask takes a moment to hop up on a ringpost and salute the crowd, as Bristol rolls out the ring and angrily starts heading for the back.
“Original Prankster” by the Offspring picks up, and the fans look to the curtains for who it is. Three men, one dressed as a wrestler, one wearing… some kind of bizarre scubaone wearing a green luchadore mask/John Deere cap combo and carrying a burlap sack, step through, and they are acting… Phenomenal.
FRANK WARBURTON: The following Triple-Threat tag team contest is set for ONE FALL! Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the Trailer Park Luchadore and… uh… Francis the Skunk. At a total combined weight of FOUR-hundred and FIFTY-nine pounds, they are ERIC CAMERON! SHANE STONE! THE PHHHHHHENOMENONNNNNNNNS!
The Phenomenons get in the ring, Eric Cameron going right to Frank Warburton. Cameron is apparently displeased by something.
FRANK WARBURTON: Excuse me, Eric Cameron would like to also denounce NAPW management and the Edmonton Humane Society, apparently, for not allowing into the building and at ringside their licensed managers, the PHENOMENAL CAMELS, and is issuing a formal protest.
Cameron whispers some more to Warburton. Frank rolls his eyes, and announces…
FRANK WARBURTON: Eric Cameron would also ask all Canadians in the audience to pay respect to the “new King of Canada,” his partner Shane Stone.
Shane raises his arms in victory as the crowd boos. Cameron looks ready to brawl with every Canadian in the house (which would be all of the fans, most likely).
BILL HEWSON: The Phenomenons with a smaller than usual entourage tonight, but either way, they are a tag team to be reckoned with! … appearances aside.
JACK JONES: That’s prejudiced, Hewson. You’re prejudiced just because Eric Cameron wears scuba gear, and I won’t have it.
BILL HEWSON: That makes no sense. Although Cameron doesn’t seem to quite get the idea of wrestling gear. Nonetheless, the Phenomenons are an unorthodox duo who have seen success in their wrestling careers, looking to achieve similar here in NAPW.
A driving guitar riff kicks up, bringing out the next tag team! And these two men look ready for a FIGHT.
FRANK WARBURTON: Next, representing the faction known as SCARS! First, from Portland Oregon, weighing in at one-hundred and NINETY-NINE pounds — JOHNNY AJAX! And his partner, from Seattle Washington, weighing in at TWO-hundred and SEVEN pounds — “THE AMERICAN WOLF,” JASON RICHARDS!!
Richards and Ajax stalk to the ring, slapping hands but showing total focus and fierce determination.
BILL HEWSON: Two tremendous grapplers out of the Pacific Northwest, and no doubt Richards and Ajax will be looking to improve the SCARS record tonight. Brock Whitworth, another member of this tightly-knit fraternity, defeated by Bruiser Breton earlier this evening!
JACK JONES: Are you kidding? SCARS are lucky Adam Stryker is nursing an injury and couldn’t compete tonight, or they would be going oh and three.
BILL HEWSON: I wouldn’t count Jason Richards and Johnny Ajax out so fast. For pure striking and grappling, they are two of the best on the circuit today! Tough, hard-hitting and quick wrestlers, both having spent time in Japan! And they bring that to the squared circle now, here in NAPW.
SCARS hit the ring, taking a corner as The Phenomenons blow raspberries towards them. Referee Martin Chan keeps the peace, and then both teams wait.
And wait. Frank finally decides to announce team number three.
FRANK WARBURTON: The final team coming to the ring… at a total combined weight of FIVE-hundred and TWENTY-three pounds! From the Temple of Truth, they are Lambert Haniel and Nobody… THOSE THAT WOULD INFLICT IIIIIIIIIIILL!
A moment passes, with no music. No lights. No movement of the curtains. And then, with a great clunk noise, the arena’s spotlights all shut off. Then the normal lighting rigs failed, plunging the arena into darkness. Then, everything else shut off. The seating lights, the crew lights, everything. In the interests of keeping NAPW from being sued into nonexistence, the arena’s red EXIT lights didn’t shut off this time.
A powerful, metallic guitar riff begins to play, familiar to the moshfriendly fans in the crowd. However, even as it did, a soulful voice began to hum along, hitting a different, and yet totally matching tune.
BILL HEWSON: What… What in the world song is this?
JACK JONES: I definitely hear Slayer’s “South of Heaven” in there. There’s something else simultaneously playing, though. Hey, truck monkeys! GET IT TOGETHER!
With the music playing, a set of red lights begins to slowly roll around the arena, illuminating patches of the fans at a time. Still no signs of wrestlers, though.
Ohhhh, I bet you’re wonderin’ how I knew
‘Bout your plans to make me blue
With some other guy you knew before
Between the two of us guys, you know I love you more
It took me by surprise I must say
When I found out yesterday
Don’tcha know that I
And THERE is the guitarwork. The drums kick in, the sound catching an awfully… doomy, evil tone.
BILL HEWSON: Those That Would Inflict Ill have some strange taste in music. Is this a mash-up of Slayer and Marvin Gaye?
JACK JONES: Sure sounds like something Lambert’d listen to.
Heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Oh I heard it through the grapevine
Oh I’m just about to lose my mind
Honey, honey yeah
A gleam of red on the stage, and then more of it… There is an actual, honest-to-God fire going on on it! Standing amidst the circle of flame are two figures, two figures who suddenly get lit by the red spotlights. In a white linen suit, and those familiar round sunglasses, is the Intergalactic Funkmaster himself, Lambert Haniel. And standing just behind him, cracking her knuckles and generally looming, is Nobody. White mask. White spandex ringpants, white tank top. An awfully… angelic look, for someone so very, very not.
An unforeseen future nestled somewhere in time.
Unsuspecting victims no warnings, no signs.
Judgment day, the second coming arrives.
Before you see the light you must-
With the music blasting, Haniel spreads his arms to his sides, a big ol’ grin on his lips. In the ring, the Scars and the Phenomenons mill about uncertainly, the strange mix of songs creating a nearly maniacal, hellish sound. The fire begins to spread right along the stage, moving left and reaching out towards the audience. Was it pyro? Was it Lambert spraying lighter fluid along the steel stage?
Nobody simply stands over Lambert, her broad, muscular shoulders flexed, biceps tensed. She adjusts the wraps on her forearms, the gloves on her hands. Hadda be ready for mayhem and destruction.
Lambert reaches right, and the flames extend that way, too. Now, the whole stage is merrily burning. Perfect for the hellish music blaring.
Lambert Haniel: This world… has become unfairly balanced. There are those with power…
He levels a finger at the crowd.
Lambert Haniel: And then there are all of you, without it. The human spirit has been crushed by the tools of those who would keep all of you people on your knees.
He takes a step forward, out of the fire, hand coming back to smooth his moustache out. With the fire behind him, Lambert is backlit, nothing but red illuminating his face. His eyes are dark pits with gleams at the center, his mouth a horrorshow of red against pearly white… Or is that white against red?
Lambert Haniel: Collared by mortgages, shackled by student loans, buried under the weight of credit card bills, willingly paying your bank fees while believing that you are free… Thanks to the chance to put one empty-souled vessel of corruption into office or another. And that is the way they want you.
Lambert takes a few long strides down the ramp, coming closer and closer to that ring. As he makes his way to ringside, he shrugs his jacket off, leaving the white linen laying like a dying goose on the entryway ramp. Nobody simply steps over it, making her way down with her other half.
Lambert Haniel: That is exactly the way they want everyone. Trapped like milking cows, unable to leave your cozy boxes, your pens, your cells, your nine-to-five wage slavery jobs, for fear of the world outside being even scarier than that which you already know…”
Lambert pauses for a moment at ringside, looking to a person standing stock-still on the other side of the guardrail. He smiles kindly, reaching over to brush his hand down the woman’s cheek. She flinches back reflexively, and Lambert follows her, his hand clapping onto the shoulder of the man standing beside her. He looks directly to the man, into his eyes, like he was talking to a long-lost friend of his.
Lambert Haniel: I have seen the greatest minds of this generation, the past generation, ALL generations burn out on drugs and drink, give up the quest for freedom to live a life of money and greed. Men who would be free traded it all in for a BMW, a penthouse apartment, and a bump of Coke.
The man takes a pat to the shoulder, before Lambert turns, dashing to the steel ring steps. In the silence of the arena, he leaps onto the top step, throwing his right hand to the side.
Lambert Haniel: I saw the Prince of Peace die on the cross, suffering on the very symbol that now means his glory! And his messages…
Lambert turns to the right, extending a hand. He mimes dropping something.
Lambert Haniel: Love thy brother…
And to the left, dropping something again.
Lambert Haniel: Do no evil…
He faces forward and into the ring, taking a few steps onto the ring apron. Wiping his feet off out of respect, Lambert walks along the apron until he’s right in the center.
Lambert Haniel: Treat others as you would be treated…
Lambert shakes his head.
Lambert Haniel: And now, here are the men who believe that they fight for a paycheck, for a future title shot, for the adulation of you people and your cheers. Tonight, they do not fight a man and a woman. They fight an IDEA.
Lambert lets his head fall backwards, microphone coming up to hang over his head like the Sword of Damocles.
Lambert Haniel: The idea… That the only true freedom is that which is taken, taken by force, by violence, by brutality. What I do tonight, I do not do out of any personal hatred, my kin in wrestling. My brothers. I do this simply to help these people see…
Lambert drops the microphone to the ringfloor with a burst of static, before bringing his face down. Finally, he looks to his opponents with a smile. That charming grin, so sweet and neighborly and jovial when he was out in the world. But now that he is in a wrestling ring… Not anymore.
DING DING DING
BILL HEWSON: Triple-threat tag team contest, two legal men, but they can tag out to anybody on the apron.
JACK JONES: This is going to get complicated, isn’t it?
BILL HEWSON: And it looks like Shane Stone and Johnny Ajax are starting this one off!
Haniel and Nobody reside in the corner; the former taking a keen interest in the in-ring action, and the latter still, vibrating slightly with barely-contained menace. Stone and Ajax tie-up, go-behind by Stone, belly-to-back suplex attempt, Ajax lands on his feet, big palm thrust stuns Stone, Ajax with a flipping dropkick! Ajax hooks the arm and quickly tags in his partner “The American Wolf” Jason Richards. Richards with a stiff shot to the ribs of Stone, irish whip and a stiff back elbow puts Stone down. Stone pops up, ready to go, but his partner Eric Cameron is screaming “LET ME AT HIM, I HATE WOLVES!” Shane tags in his partner and Cameron gets in the ring, talking trash and nose-to-nose with Richards. “WE COULDN’T BRING OUR CAMELS IN BUT WOLVES ARE OKAY?! WOLVES ARE MONSTERS!” Richards looks to the fans with an expression of “…is this guy for real?” Cameron shoves Richards!
Richards obliterates Cameron with a LOUD overhand chop, sending the Phenomenom to the corner gasping for breath. Richards slings Cameron’s arms over the top rope and unleashes ANOTHER sick chop, then tags in his partner. Ajax is in… he gets a chop in! Chop from Richards! Ajax! Richards! Ajax! Referee Chan is telling Richards to get out of the ring — but here comes Shane Stone! Richards sidesteps and shoots Stone crashing into his own partner, then the SCARS duo links up. Richards with an irish whip — Ajax reverses it — and Richards at HIGH VELOCITY nails a running forearm corner smash to the back of Stone’s head, bonking the Phenomenom’s heads together at the same time! Richards dumps Stone and hits his corner as Cameron staggers out of the corner in an exaggerated Jeff Jarrett strut, then promptly flops onto his face. He rolls over to his back… and Ajax delivers a Standing Shooting Star Press! One, two, Cameron kicks out!
And from one corner, Lambert Haniel offers a golf clap.
BILL HEWSON: Terrific teamwork in the early going from Johnny Ajax and Jason Richards, but Lambert Haniel isn’t impressed, apparently.
JACK JONES: When you’ve seen the universe implode and be reborn before breakfast, Hewson, shiny wrestling moves lose their luster.
BILL HEWSON: You’ve never seen that.
JACK JONES: Well, not before breakfast.
Ajax is hoisting Cameron up (Stone and Richards back in their respective corners) and shoots a glance at Haniel. He stares daggers at the unorthodox one — and whips Cameron into the Ill corner. Haniel shrugs, smiling, and tags himself in on Cameron’s shoulder. Haniel in the ring with Ajax, who tries to shoot the leg, but Haniel flails away and unloads a spinning backhand! Ajax blocks the next shot, but Laniel seems to fold in half to dodge the elbow smash, then sweeps the leg. Pops up, swept, and then another sweep, followed by the “Lord of all Funk and Love” irish whipping Ajax into the ropes! Ajax reverses, Lariat, but Haniel gets FUNKY and ducks, dips, dodges around — throat chop! Ajax gasps, and sudden flurry of palm strikes sends him to the corner! Leg lariat into the corner! Haniel hooks his man’s head for a sudden BRAINBUSTER suplex! Sudden impact, but that’s not all, as Haniel holds onto the front facelock and spins up, funkadelic, twirls his finger in the air and DRIVES Ajax into the canvas with a Snake-like DDT! No cover, he pulls his man up and… STRAIGHTJACKET PILEDRIVER! He covers one, two — Richards with the save!
JACK JONES: That’s why they call him… that… thing they call him!
BILL HEWSON: “The Time Travelling, Intergalactic Lord of All Funk and Love.”
JACK JONES: Yeah. That.
BILL HEWSON: And Haniel calls that move “Trinity Site, New Mexico!” A tremendous rush of offense by Lambert Haniel. Ajax might have been getting that shoulder up, but Jason Richards smartly breaking up the fall. Those Who Would Inflict Ill on the offense…
Haniel tosses Johnny Ajax into the Phenomenal corner. Stone and Cameron look at each other for a second, and then Cameron tags himself in. Haniel makes a sweeping gesture of invitation to Cameron, who gets in slightly hesitantly. “This better not be a trick, like that not-fruit basket!” Haniel flashes a brilliant smile… and Cameron charges like a hopped up badger on Jolt cola (something they may actually have, who knows). Haniel side-steps like he’s doing the Lambada, Cameron stutter-steps, and Haniel delivers a hooking roundhouse kick!
JACK JONES: The Internal Monologue of a Cat!
BILL HEWSON: Beg your pardon?
JACK JONES: That’s the name of that move! … calling these matches is going to require a flow chart, isn’t it?
Haniel floats around the ring, daring to come within arms’ reach of the Scars corner. Richards reaches out to tag himself in, Haniel drifts out of reach. Cameron is up and yells. “YARRRRR!” Haniel, surprised, gets taken down and Cameron is flailing away. He gets up and starts kicking! It’s… almost a series of Garvin stomps, but Eric Cameron is a little too unfocused to have planned it that way. He leaps up and lands on top of Haniel with a double-stomp, then starts marching on top of his foe! He slides off and tags in Shane Stone, who quickly catches a rising Haniel with a snap suplex that shakes the ring. The suplex slurpee machine of the Phenomenons does what he does best, belly-to-belly suplex! German coming up — Haniel counters, and somehow, has Stone’s arm in a hammerlock. Hammerlock German Suplex on Stone!
JACK JONES: Terrific move… Haniel likes to call that “There is no peace but what can be taken.”
BILL HEWSON: Of course he does.
Haniel again eggs on the Scars duo, reaching for a tag to Ajax — and pulling back at the last minute. He pulls Stone up, irish whip — into the Scars corner?! And now Jason Richards is in! He struts in, but suddenly Haniel tags out to Eric Cameron?
JACK JONES: What the heck is Haniel doing?
Richards scowls, then smirks. Haniel takes his corner back… and Richards tags Haniel right back in! It’s Haniel and Cameron, but Haniel strides right back to the Phenomenal corner and… tags in SHANE STONE?!
JACK JONES: Wait, can he DO THAT?
BILL HEWSON: I’m… not sure, but referee Chan is letting it go. It’s Shane Stone versus Eric Cameron, could the Phenomenons EXPLODE right here in Edmonton?
JACK JONES: Not after all these years!
On the outside, Trailer Park Luchadore (holding up the bag containing Francis the [dead] Skunk) shouts “don’t do it, guys! Not in CANADA!” Stone glares at Eric Cameron, who blanches. Shane Stone, perhaps, remembering the brutal abduction from his wife at the hands of Cameron just recently. Eric Cameron, who forced Shane Stone to come to CANADA… Shane extends a hand in peace! TPL breathes a sigh of relief…
Stone pokes Eric in the chest.
JACK JONES: GOOD GOD HE KILLED HIM.
Cameron SLAMS into the canvas with a thunderous crash. He lays prone and Shane Stone covers him, loosely hooking the leg. Chan, uncertain, dives down for a cover! ONE! TWO!
Richards and Ajax break it up!
BILL HEWSON: I don’t even know if that was legal, but The Phenomenons trying to shenanigan their way into a win! Scars not having it!
Richards and Ajax have Cameron and Stone in opposite corners, chopping away. They whip the Phenomenons into one another… but Shane drops down onto all fours and Cameron uses him as a launch pad to deliver a wild kick to the face of Ajax!
LAMBERT HANIEL! Double axe handle OFF OF ERIC CAMERON onto Jason Richards!
JACK JONES: Wait, what?
BILL HEWSON: Well, Haniel did reach out with a peace offering to the Phenomenons earlier this month. I don’t know if it was received properly, but…
Haniel whips Ajax into Eric Cameron, who delivers a snap belly-to-belly! The Phenomenons exchange a glance and decide to go with it. Shane Stone hooks up Jason Richards, vertical suplex! Holding him! Cameron charges in and finds himself vaulted, by Haniel, into a KICK TO THE FACE OF RICHARDS! Stone completes the suplex! Haniel and Cameron grab Richards and send him flying over the top rope. They do the same to Johnny Ajax — and AJAX GETS HIS NECK CAUGHT BETWEEN THE TOP AND MIDDLE ROPE!
BILL HEWSON: Good God, Ajax is literally being hung in the ropes! Somebody help him…
With Ajax kicking in the ropes, Lambert Haniel and Eric Cameron stare each other down. Shane Stone rubs Eric’s shoulders, shouting “YOU GOT THIS!” Haniel and Cameron…
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”
Referee Chan is right on it, sucked into the madness! The competition is fierce as Jason Richards works to extricate Ajax from the ropes! Referee Chan signals the winner… it’s Eric Cameron! Stone raises his partner’s hand in victory as Haniel acquiesces gracefully. The fans aren’t sure whether to cheer, boo, or learn the rules of thumb wrestling…
RICHARDS AND AJAX SPRINGBOARD IN! Double dropkicks! That leaves Stone up, but he finds himself caught in position for a Tiger Suplex by Richards! Richards rolls Stone backwards after the impact, right into an Ajax Standing 450! Stone knocked out of the ring and the Scars duo try to restore some order and take control of this contest. Richards tosses Cameron back to Eric’s proper corner, tags in off his back, as Ajax locks in a half-crab on Lambert Haniel! The Lord of Funk (and all that jazz) blinks in pain, and Jason Richards with a diving knee right Haniel’s head! Ajax gets out as Richards hooks his opponent up for a suplex. He holds onto the face-lock and then delivers a thunderous Northern Lights Suplex! One, two, kick-out.
BILL HEWSON: Ajax and Richards not buying any of the disrespect shown to them by Lambert Haniel and the Phenomenons! And now they’re taking over this match… Haniel is taking a beating!
JACK JONES: Good thing he seems to be about as flexible as Gumby — because OW.
What’s that, you say? Possibly the Cloverleaf Richards is locking onto Haniel… and Ajax springboards in with a legdrop across the back of Haniel’s head. Richards releases the hold, covers for one, two, Haniel with a kick-out. He blinks, looking across the ring to his corner, and the one person who has yet to be tagged into this match — the faceless, hulking Nobody. He reaches out for a tag… and Richards not having any of that. Armbar and “The American Wolf” tags in Johnny Ajax. The Phenomenons shouting obscene non-sequiturs at the Scars members, but that’s okay as Ajax unloads with some stiff puro-style chops. Ajax — reverse rana! Haniel pops up, punch-drunk, and OBLITERATED by a Richards lariatoooooo! Haniel is down, Ajax up top!
SCREW ATTACK! 630 SPLASH —
HITS CANVAS. Haniel rolls out of the way, and he and Ajax are both down. The Phenomenons want to be tagged in. Richards pounds the turnbuckle pad calling for Ajax to tag. Neither man crawls for the Phenomenons…
Richards is in!
And so is NOBODY.
BILL HEWSON: In the match for the first time and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
JACK JONES: Shit just got real, Bill Hewson.
Richards absolutely flattened by a brutal big boot, but Nobody doesn’t stand around waiting for him to recover, grabbing an arm and DESTROYING Richards with a huge chop. She yanks him back up, not letting go of the arm, CHOP. Down, then UP — Up and DOWN to the canvas! CHOP. CHOP. Richards shot to the ropes, Nobody with a BRUTAL powerslam. “The American Wolf” bounce/rolls to his corner and Ajax tags back in on the shoulder, he hits the top and springboards off — CAUGHT. TORTURE RACK! The Enhanced Interrogation! Ajax being broken in half by the sheer POWER of this woman Nobody…
The Phenomenons break it up!
JACK JONES: Oh, I don’t… I don’t know if that was a good idea.
BILL HEWSON: They didn’t want to lose the match if Ajax submitted, but Eric Cameron and Shane Stone may have gotten the one thing they did not want — Nobody’s attention!
Cameron and Stone lock eyes and gulp… then Stone screams “DEVILLLLL!” and charges in! GOOZLE! Eric flails his fits in the air, like this, and runs in, but he gets caught too! Nobody with both men … DOUBLE CHOKESLAM!! Shane Stone hits the canvas as all the air leaves his chest…
But Eric Cameron takes the ride TO THE FLOOR. Sweet Fare-Thee-Well over the top rope for him! Trailer Park Luchadore rushes over to check on Cameron. In the ring, Shane Stone rakes the eyes of the … well, as much eye as we can see on that featureless mask Nobody wears! It seems to stun her for just a second, and Stone tries a vertical suplex. Nobody isn’t going anywhere; instead, Shane Stone gets ragdolled up and over her shoulder! SLAM into the turnbuckles… SLAM into the opposite turnbuckles… RUNNING POWERSLAM to the center of the ring! Oklahoma Stampede! But Stone isn’t the legal man! Haniel is back to his senses, and the Lord of Funk signals for a tag.
BILL HEWSON: Referee Chan trying to keep some control but with all these bodies, it’s damn near impossible!
JACK JONES: I *think* the legal wrestlers are Lambert Haniel and Johnny Ajax. I *think*.
Whatever the score, Haniel and Nobody double-whip Ajax into the ropes. Nobody pushes Ajax up with a HUGE pancake toss — LAMBERT WITH A RUNNING DROPKICK TO THE HEAD! Right as Ajax crashes to the canvas! Haniel covers one, two, SHANE STONE with the save! He pounds on Haniel, only to have Nobody roughly yank him up by the hair! Stone kicks her HARD in the stomach, enough to stun her. He hits the ropes, building momentum for… something, because Nobody sidesteps and sends Stone to the floor!
Hang on, Stone … uh, hangs onto the top rope. Nobody charges with a BIG BOOT — ERIC CAMERON low bridges the top rope! Except he doesn’t quite know where to go AFTERwards. Nobody hung up, and then she falls out to the floor, right on top of Cameron!
JACK JONES: That’s… well, it did *work*.
BILL HEWSON: As the late great Ed Whalen would say, looks like we had a malfunction at the junction. And Nobody is still up wait a minute WAIT A MINUTE SHANE STONE!! SUICIDE DIVE!!
Stone absolutely FLIES between the ropes with zero regard for his own body right into Nobody, somehow catching her with a TORNADO DDT right onto the concrete!! The crowd is going absolutely CASHEW for the wild action these three new teams are bringing to NAPW! In the ring, Haniel hoists Ajax up, admiring the carnage on the floor.
Problem is, he forgot to consider one body. JASON RICHARDS spins Haniel around — EXPLODER SUPLEX. On the outside, everybody is getting to their feet…
Jason Richards heads to the top rope. Those outside the ring look up —
RICHARDS WITH A SOMERSAULT DIVE! EVERYBODY (including Nobody) DOWN LIKE BOWLING PINS!!
JACK JONES: What’s the body count?!
BILL HEWSON: Johnny Ajax and Lambert Haniel in the ring, both down! On the outside… Richards! Nobody! Cameron! Stone! We’ve got bodies stacked like cordwood!
The crowd is on their feet, roaring, wondering what’s going to happen. Ajax and Haniel both down, referee Chan making a standing ten count. They take their feet, dazed, Haniel with a wild roundhouse — Ajax ducks and hooks him up. FATALITY BRAINBUSTER — NO! Haniel drops down! Irish whip to Ajax, reversed, Haniel now running to the ropes… HANDSPRING! LEAPING REVERSAL KICK to the face of Ajax, who goes down hard to his knees! Haniel spins to his feet with a pirouette, in the corner. His eyes slightly widen and he grins, widely, teeth showing, arching his back, standing as tall as he can. He’s literally BOUNCING in place as Ajax struggles to one knee…
JACK JONES: SWEET AUNT PETUNIA.
The absolute SICKEST running diving knee strike to the back of the head you’ve ever seen. Haniel covers and it’s one, two, — Shane Stone with a last gasp dive towards the ring for the save — THREE.
FRANK WARBURTON: Here are your winners… THOSE THAT WOULD INFLICT ILL!!
BILL HEWSON: Ajax is unconscious, Jack Jones, never seen anything like it! What does he call that one, any idea?
JACK JONES: I have it right here…
Jones puts on his glasses and holds up a piece of paper.
JACK JONES: Haniel nails Ajax with the “When the last living thing dies, my job is finished. I’ll put the chairs on tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave” running knee!
BILL HEWSON: … alright then. Whatever he calls it, it sealed the victory for Lambert Haniel and Nobody!
Richards pulls Johnny Ajax out, supporting his ring brother as they head up the aisle. Eric Cameron and Shane Stone, however, get back into the ring. Trailer Park Luchadore waits nervously outside with Francis the Skunk (or the burlap sack purported to contain Francis the dead Skunk). The Phenomenons eye Nobody warily, but Cameron extends a hand to Lambert Haniel. They slap, slide, and finger snap a la Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Stone offering a hand shake. Haniel and Cameron each turn around to leave…
AND SPIN AROUND TO GET A CHEAP SHOT IN.
Haniel and Cameron each FREEZE. Haniel… grins broadly, then offers another handshake. Both teams turn to leave the ring…
ANOTHER CHEAP SHOT ATTEMPT. They each freeze again!
JACK JONES: Wait, do they respect each other or not? Or is this some kind of extra-dimensional ritual?
BILL HEWSON: I think they can’t help themselves!
Haniel and Cameron each grin again, but this time Haniel brings a finger to his lips and shushes Cameron’s bluster. Cameron’s eyes bug out and he charges, only to bump into Nobody, who steps in front of Haniel. She feints towards him, and Cameron bumps off of that! Trailer Park Luchadore pulls a disconcerted Cameron out. Shane Stone eyes up the situation, almost daring to go through Nobody, but drops to the canvas and rolls out himself. Jimi Hendrix kicks up as Haniel sprawls across the top corner ropes, waving bye-bye.
BILL HEWSON: An impressive debut by all three teams, but Lambert Haniel and Nobody, Those Who Would Inflict Ill, picking up the all-important “W” heading into next month’s TAGSTRAVAGANZA event!
JACK JONES: Yeah, I don’t even know what just happened. Who books these three team matches? It’s absurd!
BILL HEWSON: Well Jack, coming up next, we find out who will hold Tag Team gold going into the big tag event — it’s THE RABBLE defending against LEGION, titles on the line! Live on iPPV!
JACK JONES: … and so I buried it in my yard, so no one would find it.
BILL HEWSON: I’m pretty sure that’s illegal without a permit.
JACK JONES: What if I told them I buried the permit?
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, the following TAG TEAM match is scheduled for one fall… and is for the TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP!
The crowd gives a cheer, which quickly begins morphing to boos as “I Want Your Body” by Nymphomania hits the speakers, and the lights get colourful and stroby. (Strobey? Strobe-y?)
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, at a combined weight of FOUR HUNDRED and SIXTY-THREE pounds. Accompanied to the ring by their sister Greta… ERNST! GUSTAV! Theeeeeee RABBLE!
ERNST, GUSTAV and GRETA all emerge from the curtain, and start dancing their way to the ring. Ernst and Gustav are wearing the NAPW Tag Team Championship belts, and their cheap knock-off titles… this time they appear to have a sticker for the Edmonton Rush Lacrosse team on them.
JACK JONES: It’s been a tough few months for those kids, Hewson.
BILL HEWSON: It sure — wait, what?
JACK JONES: Losing all their money? Being abandoned by their entourage? And now having to face a pair of monsters like LEGION? The deck is stacked against them! Their undefeated streak is on the line!
BILL HEWSON: … I don’t even…
Ernst climbs into the ring and Gustav slides in after him. Greta takes a position in their corner, and shoots a withering glare at someone in the front row who shouts something about her general level of hotness.
BILL HEWSON: And Gustav has found a microphone.
Gustav: Meine Damen und Herren! In spite of the hardships we have been forced to overcome in these past few weeks, we remain proud to be your unified NAPW Tag Team and Edmonton Rush 2014 NLL Champion Champions!
BOO! That gets the crowd angry. Gustav looks confused.
Gustav: No… they won the NLL Champion — oh…
Sheepishly, Gustav pulls the sticker off his fake title belt.
JACK JONES: They need to pay better attention to the local sports-ball, Hewson! Hey… who turned out the lights!?
Darkness… and then the lights snap back on and
BILL HEWSON: LEGION is in the ring!
MASAKRE and MATANZA are standing on either side of Gustav! The crowd screams – as does the little European, who tosses the microphone to ringside and scrambles away for his life. Referee Stewie Lamoine barely has time to catch Ernst’s title belts as he calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
Masakre reaches after Gustav, but Ernst intercepts him with a running lariat that puts the monster on his back.
BILL HEWSON: It’s rare for Masakre to be facing someone nearly his size, but Ernst is a powerhouse, too. Looks like they’ll be starting things off.
Matanza backs off to his corner as Ernst pulls Masakre back up to his feet, then levels him with a second lariat. He takes a moment to gloat, flexing his impressive muscles, then reaches down and grabs Masakre’s legs! There’s a bit of… a cheer? Weird.
JACK JONES: Is he going to giant swing a giant!
Nope! Masakre kicks him away, rolls forward, and drives his head right into Ernst’s midsection. The raver staggers back a bit, and Masakre surges up to his feet. He grabs Ernst, and T-Bone Suplexes him right into the centre of the ring!
BILL HEWSON: Such power!
JACK JONES: I think that measured on the Richter scale!
Masakre goes for the pin! 1! And Gustav is in the ring, kicking him in the back and breaking up the pin! Greta cheers him on for his initiative… but Gustav quickly bails the second Masakre’s masked head turns in his direction, eyes burning with rage. He reaches down and grabs Ernst by the hair, pulling the big man back up. Still glaring at Gustav, Masakre whips Ernst to the ropes. Ernst rebounds, gets caughts, and HURLED with a sweet Belly to Belly Suplex. The crowd goes “oooooooooh!”
JACK JONES: Isn’t GUSTAV the one who gets thrown around the ring?
Ernst clutches his back and winces, then turns and starts slowly pulling himself up in the corner. Masakre backs off, looking to give himself space to start a running splash… but Matanza reaches over and tags himself in! Masakre looks surprised as his partner leaps over the top rope, and rushes Ernst with a sweet dropkick. Ernst collapses in the corner – Gustav stomps petulantly on the apron while Greta shrieks for her brother to “man up.” Matanza pulls Ernst back up, hooks the head and climbs to the second rope… 540 Spinning DDT! Ernst is planted mid-ring and Matanza goes for the pin!
JACK JONES: This could be it!
1! 2! KICK OUT!
Gustav was JUUUUST about to crash that, and referee Lamoine warns him back as Matanza starts pulling Ernst back up…
And with the ref momentarily distracted the big European NAILS him with the lowest of blows.
BILL HEWSON: The usual tactics from the Rabble.
JACK JONES: If by “usual tactics” you mean “domination in the ring,” then sure.
The crowd boos as Matanza grits his teeth and doubles over. Ernst clubs him across the back, then marches him past Stewie Lamoine to his corner and tags in Gustav. He then, with purpose, turns Matanza around into a hangman’s neckbreaker while Gustav hits the ropes for a slingshot… and they hit the Velvet Rope! Matanza goes down and Gustav hooks the leg! 1! 2! And a kickout from the masked man. Matanza sits up, shaking his head – and Gustav is right there with a Sliding D that puts him back down! Another pin! 1! 2! And another kickout! Gustav pounds on the mat, pouting. Greta, meantime, has worked her way to a neutral corner, where she’s begun taunting Masakre. The masked monster glowers, knuckles white where he’s clutching the ropes.
JACK JONES: I think Masakre’s urge to kill is rising, Hewson. We… might not want to be this close to the action.
BILL HEWSON: LEGION is a force of nature – but this isn’t like last month, where they could cut loose. If they can’t keep it together tonight, they’re going to cost themselves the match. And the Rabble might be counting on that.
In the ring, Gustav lands a few solid kicks on Matanza to keep him down, takes a few steps back… Standing Shooting Star Press! RIGHT ONTO MATANZA’S KNEES! Gustav doesn’t have time to react to the quick-thinking reversal, as Matanza grabs him in a cradle and rolls him right up! The crowd cheers! 1! 2! And Gustav wildly kicks out, thrashing towards his corner! He tags in Ernst as Matanza rolls slowly over and starts toward his corner. Masakre reaches out to tag him, only for Ernst to catch him from behind for a German Suplex that puts distance between the two masked men. He laughs an annoying high-pitched laugh at Masakre who grits his teeth angrily, then turns…
Into a chop to the throat!
The crowd cheers as Ernst chokes, clutching his neck, and Matanza – with a burst of power – grabs him and hits a ring-shaking high-angle slam! Both men are down, breathing hard! The crowd is cheering and clapping, a mix of people who want to see LEGION taken down, and people who want to see the Rabble get their comeuppance! Greta is shouting at Ernst to stop lying around uselessly. Stewie Lamoine starts counting down both men. 1! 2! Ernst stirs. 3! 4! The big man rolls over and starts crawling to his corner. He reaches up to tag in Gustav just as Matanza SPRINGS TO LIFE – and LEAPS into his corner!
JACK JONES: HERE COMES THE RAGE!
Gustav took the tag but looks like he instantly regrets his choices as Masakre hits the ring like a rhinoceros! The little man is practically run over with a HUGE clothesline that sends him spinning head-over-heels mid-ring! Ernst tries to surge forward to meet the masked beast – but Masakre catches him smoothly for a Snap Powerslam! His enemies lying fallen before him, Masakre then lets out a ROAR and stomps around the ring to a cheer from the crowd!
BILL HEWSON: Masakre is a one-man wrecking crew!
Greta has risen up in one of the corners and is shouting at her brothers to do something – ANYTHING – right now! Ernst is trying to roll out of the ring, but Masakre catches him, pulls him up, and whips him HARD at his sister! Greta’s eyes bug out as Ernst crashes into the corner, sending her tumbling to ringside to a huge pop from the crowd! Ernst turns around… only to have Gustav crash into him! Both Rabble brothers sag against each other as Masakre gets a head of steam and NAILS a Running Big Splash in the corner! The crowd is on its feet!
BILL HEWSON: We may be about to see new champions!
Ernst is hanging uselessly in the corner as Gustav stumbles forward, seeing stars. He’s caught by Masakre…
JACK JONES: Oh no! It’s about to be a TOTAL MASAKRE!
Masakre picks Gustav up in a gorilla press…
And Nymphomaniac hits the speakers again? As the lights begin to get psychadelic and the music pulses, people start coming over the ring barrier!
JACK JONES: Is it a riot!? What’s going on!?
BILL HEWSON: It’s not a riot… it’s a RAVE.
Masakre hesitates in a moment of confusion and the crowd boos as the long absent RABBLE ROUSERS hit ringside from every direction, dancing up a convincing distraction to the boos of the crowd. Stewie Lamoine starts shouting at a pair of them at ringside to turn off the music and get the lights back up. Matanza glares down at the party at ringside, kicking at a few of the dancing entourage. The pandemonium is enough for Gustav to wriggle free of Masakre, landing on his feet… and poking the masked man right in his eyeballs! Masakre roars in anger and staggers back, clutching at his face. Gustav rushes the corner, hits the top rope…
BATH SALTS BASH!
But Masakre doesn’t budge.
HE DOESN’T BUDGE.
JACK JONES: WHAT IS HAPPENING!?
He just stands there, no-selling like a goddamned Greek statue, with Gustav clutching his head for the DDT, looking surprised and terrified. Without a sound, Masakre drops to one knee, reversing the finisher into a backbreaker and Gustav spasms in the ring. He goes to grab the little European again… but two Rabble Rousers scramble into the ring to grab Gustav’s feet and pull him out! Lamoine is too busy trying to direct traffic to notice.
BILL HEWSON: The referee has totally lost control of this match!
Gustav is yanked to safety at ringside to boos from the crowd… but those boos turn to cheers and screams as two meaty hands grab the pair of Rabble Rousers by the hair. Masakre yanks them forcefully up to the apron, and with a bellow, knocks their heads together!
JACK JONES: Don’t do it! They’re innocent Eurotrash!
Masakre is seeing red – he hooks both of their heads, one under each arm, and SUPLEXES THE EVERLOVING HELL out of the two Rabble Rousers into the ring with a tremendous crash. Matanza is already coming off the top rope with a splash on the two fallen party-goers who thrash uselessly in the middle of the ring. The noise is enough that Lamoine finally takes note that there’s still a match happening – but he’s had enough! He’s calling for the bell!
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, due to DISQUALIFICATION – the winners of this match… and STILL NAPW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS… ERNST! GUSTAV! Theeee RABBLE!
BILL HEWSON: Again! They’ve stolen the championship AGAIN!
JACK JONES: Stolen? Or remained undefeated?
The music and lights haven’t stopped – but neither have Masakre and Matanza. LEGION is on a rampage. Masakre bails from the ring and takes a dancing Rabble Rouser literally out of his shoes with a short-arm clothesline. Matanza goes OVER THE ROPES and levels three of them with a no-hands suicide plancha! The crowd is cheering as Greta snatches the title belts from the time keeper’s table and shouts for Ernst and Gustav to CHEESE IT!
JACK JONES: That’s good advice, Hewson! I think we should get out of here too!
As the pulsing European beat continues, and the lights strobe and blink, the Rabble start trying to retreat, but LEGION are right on their heels. Gustav is shouting at them about still being the champs, and they should back off, as Ernst desperately hurls one of the rapidly dwindling supply of Rabble Rousers at them. Masakre just catches the man and PLANTS him on the ramp with a clothesline. Greta pushes another one at them, but Matanza catches that one and DDTs him practically on top of the other one! The Rabble Rousers are DONE – the entire entourage is laid out at ringside and the crowd is going wild. Greta and Ernst exchange a desperate look… then push GUSTAV at LEGION…
TOTAL MASAKRE! RIGHT ON THE STAGE!
It’s enough for two-thirds of the Rabble to beat a retreat through the curtain, but LEGION follows them right out… leaving a trail of bodies and the wreckage of one-third of the tag team champions in their wake. The crowd is still going NUTS.
BILL HEWSON: This is PANDEMONIUM. Practically every European in this building is laid out! LEGION is disqualified from the match… but they don’t seem to care at all!
JACK JONES: And where did the Rabble Rousers even come from!? I thought the Rabble lost all their money!
BILL HEWSON: Well someone must be bankrolling them again. Not that it did much to help them tonight.
JACK JONES: The important thing, Hewson, is that the Rabble are STILL champions!
BILL HEWSON: They sure don’t look like it at the moment, Jack Attack.
Several officials emerge from the back as the lights go back to normal and start checking on the fallen men and women around the ring. It’s a mess… and it’ll take some INTERMISSION to clean it up!
JACK JONES: And that, Hewson, is how I became King of Bronies.
BILL HEWSON: Good for you. I guess? Anyway, my grand-daughters love that cartoon.
JACK JONES: … cartoon?
Oh Frank Warburton, you cure all awkwardness. The broad-shouldered ring announcer adjusts his glasses and raises a microphone to his lips. Beside him, referee Morgan Smythe is holding… the CANADIAN HERITAGE CHAMPIONSHIP BELT.
FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is set for ONE FALL… and is for the NAPW CANADIAN HERITAGE CHAMPIONSHIP!
The fans pop for the announcement, and they pop even louder when…
“HEEEERE WE ARE
BORN TO BE KINGS
WE ARE PRINCES OF THE UNIVERRRRRSE”
“I AM IMMORTAL!
I HAVE WITHIN ME BLOOD OF KINGS!”
FRANK WARBURTON: First, accompanied to the ring by the “Lion” Chase Jacobson! From Winnipeg, Manitoba, weighing in at TWO-hundred pounds… “LIONHEART” KRIS JACOBSON!
Kris and Chase head to the ring in matching jackets, Chase with a towel tucked into the towel (old school). Kris slaps hands and skips the steps, leaping to the ring apron and posing for the fans. He makes the “belt” motion around his waist.
BILL HEWSON: The “Lionheart” has been on a tremendous roll in past months! He made it to the finals of the Canada Cup tournament, before losing in controversial fashion to Jay Deschain.
JACK JONES: Hey, “The Perfect Storm” is the 2014 Canada Cup winner, not Jacobson!
BILL HEWSON: Be that as it may, last month Jacobson DID score a pinfall on Deschain in a rematch… “Lionheart” may be the odds-on favorite to take home the Heritage gold tonight!
“Come and listen to a story about a man named Jed!
Poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed!
“The Ballad of Jed Clampett” picks up and CUZIN EDDIE makes his way out, coveralls and all! He claps and stomps, doing a hoe-down to the ring as the fans dosie-do!
FRANK WARBURTON: From Steep Creek, Kentucky, weighing in at TWO-hundred and SIXTY-three pounds… CUZIN EDDIEEEEEE!
JACK JONES: If I had to pick a man to win this match, and I don’t like ANY of these guys, here’s mine — over two-hundred fifty pounds of pure hillbilly power!
BILL HEWSON: Cuzin Eddie unquestionably the biggest wrestler in the match, he’s got the power advantage! Jack Attack, the fans love him, and Eddie had one of the biggest moments in the new NAPW several months ago when he defeated the Kentucky Hellbillies at KENTUCKY FRIED CALAMITY. The whole locker room roots for this man!
JACK JONES: Maybe not his opponents tonight…
BILL HEWSON: I think we’ll see some healthy competition tonight — not like last month when Cuzin Eddie & Sammy Devine almost won tag team gold, only for THE RABBLE to get purposely disqualified!
Eddie’s music fades out and he takes a corner, referee Smythe checking each man as they take a corner. The Animals pick up…
“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good!
Please don’t let me be misunderstood!”
The fans sing along and cheer as ANDELLION MOONWATER scampers out of the curtain, his beady eyes shining! A group of fans hold up a flag for the Kingdom of Crystalwood!
FRANK WARBURTON: Next! Hailing from the CRYSTALWOOD CITY, he weighs in at one-hundred and eighty-eight pounds! PRINCE! ANDELLION! MOOOOONWATER!
BILL HEWSON: A man who engaged in the single most violent match this year, Andellion Moonwater finally put to rest his very personal issue with JOSHUA RAPTURE last month in that brutal dog collar chain match.
JACK JONES: I don’t like to admit it, but Moonwater showed a ton of guts and intestinal fortitude. But can he switch gears, Hewson? Can he get fired up for this match after months of physical AND emotional damage at the hands of Rapture?
BILL HEWSON: We’re going to find out, hopefully Moonwater found closure… the Canadian Heritage Championship would be a terrific reward!
Moonwater springboards into the ring and rolls up to one knee in a regal pose. Chants of “FUTURE KING, FUTURE KING” ring out…
PRINCE! GET FUNKY!
FRANK WARBURTON: Coming to the ring! From Tulsa, Oklahoma… weighing in at TWO-hundred and TWENTY-five pounds! He is the “STARMAKER!” SAMMY DEVIIIIIINE!
Devine mugs for the fans wearing a BRAND NEW “DEVINE ARMY” zip-up hoodie! Only $29.95 (plus shipping & handling), 20% discount for “Devine Army” fanclub members! Sammy throws the hood back and springs to the ring, leaping up and sliding in on his back, popping up to pose on the top turnbuckle, smiling brightly.
BILL HEWSON: The charismatic Sammy Devine, one hell of a talented individual Jack Attack, tonight with his THIRD shot at gold in the past nine months!
JACK JONES: Devine’s come up short both previous times, Hewson. He couldn’t put away ANTON PETROV back in December for the World Title, and last month couldn’t score Tag Team gold!
BILL HEWSON: A lousy decision last month for Sammy Devine & Cuzin Eddie. There is no denying the Oklahoman “Starmaker’s” ability and determination, but question marks are beginning to form over his head — can he win big when gold is on the line, or will he forever be the bridesmaid?
JACK JONES: Well, Hewson, he did finally defeat Petrov back at Canada Cup, but he’s lost to one of the men in this match tonight… Kris Jacobson pinned Devine back at TLC!
Four men are in the ring. But this match is not ready to start just yet! There is one man missing…
Time is fleeting…”
A barrage of people in costumes stream from the entrance way and take their places. They arrange themselves down the aisle and on the ramp, parting to allow DR. FRANK to make his entrance in a sparkling gold lame outfit! ZE DOCTAH raises his hands in conducting, and THE CAST all chime in!
“LET’S DO THE TIMEWARP AGAINNNNN!
LET’S DO THE TIMEWARP AGAINNNNN!”
And suddenly ATLAS is centre-stage, displaying his perfect physique! The fans cheer and dance along as ATLAS and ZE DOCTAH make their way down the aisle!
FRANK WARBURTON: The final competitor in this contest! Accompanied by “Ze Doctah,” DR. FRANK… weighing in at TWO-hundred and TWENTY-five pounds! He is “THE CREATION” — AAAAAAATLASSSSS!
Ze Doctah holds the ropes for Atlas, who steps in and flexes! Devine slides in and cups the bicep, jumping back in shock. “How much you lift, bro?” The fans love it, these five man all fan-favorites!
BILL HEWSON: And the man… my goodness, Jack Attack, where to begin!
JACK JONES: The man who defeated that rat-bastard CHRIS CASINO, once and for all. I… can’t even believe I’m saying that.
BILL HEWSON: Chris Casino screwed everybody, Jack Attack, even you! And this young man Atlas, through countless twist & turns, proved to be the unlikely savior of NAPW! And tonight he has a golden opportunity to become the TRUE Heritage Champion!
JACK JONES: Yeah, well, I don’t feel GOOD about cheering for Atlas against that jerk Chris Casino…
BILL HEWSON: Remember, Dr. Frank and Atlas brought the Canadian Heritage belt back to NAPW in the first place months ago, in protest of what they felt was a miscarriage of justice alllll the way back at CORONATION. Tonight, Atlas has a golden opportunity to become the TRUE Canadian Heritage Champion!
JACK JONES: And that list reads like a “Who’s Who” of NAPW legends, Hewson! Men like the longest-reigning Heritage champ, JAKE PHOENIX! “Or “Dynamite” STONE ZELLOR! Atlas’ uncle DEMO-MAN!
BILL HEWSON: Remember the wars EVAN CARTWRIGHT and “LDK” LLOYD REES fought over the title! The final NAPW World Champion, DONOVAN ASTROS, had a terrific Heritage title run! And the man who started it all, the first-ever Heritage Champion… “The Last Resort,” RAVAGER!
In the ring Smythe looks to all the men, explaining the rules. Five men! All legal! First pinfall or submission WINS IT ALL! She holds the title belt high, displaying to each side of the ring!
DING DING DING
Andellion Moonwater steps up and offers his hand in princely fashion. The five men have no problem returning the offer of sportsmanship, but quickly we’re on! There is championship wrestling gold on the line! The five men look at each other… and suddenly, a plan appears to be formed. The four smaller men in the match all look to Cuzin Eddie. The Kentucky native looks to the heavens and says “…why me?” as the four smaller men rush him, trying to take him down! Eddie fights them off, shoving Moonwater away! Jacobson takes a mule kick and stumbles backwards. Atlas strong-armed to the side… and then Eddie flips Devine forward off of his back! Eddie drops an elbow, Devine rolls. Devine with a chop! Cuzin Eddie no-sells it, grabs Sammy by the ears, and throws him back-first into the turnbuckle! Eddie licks his hand, holds it up high…
Devine’s eyes bug out at the force of the open hand chop and he stumbles out of the corner… Eddie yells “C’mon y’all!” Sammy looks up. “Oh CRAP.” Here’s Moonwater… chop! Devine stumbles into range of Kris Jacobson, who unleashes a vicious puro style CHOP to the chest! Devine swaying! Atlas lines up, Devine whimpers, CHOP! Devine turns in place.
Flair flop! The fans WHOOOOOOO! Kris Jacobson dives at Cuzin Eddie, and Moonwater ties up with Atlas as Devine rolls to the ring apron to catch his breath. Eddie whips Jacobson to the ropes, clothesline ducked, Jacobson with a running frankensteiner! Eddie through the ropes to the floor! Moonwater ducks the roundhouse kick by Atlas, tries a suplex, Atlas counters into a German suplex, Moonwater on his feet, dropkick to the butt! Atlas is on the ropes, LONTRA KICK — Atlas dives out of the way!
BILL HEWSON: Both Atlas and Moonwater use a variation of the 619 — Atlas has that one well-scouted, Jack Attack!
JACK JONES: I mean, I hope so! Watch out!
Atlas with a back suplex pick-up, he and Moonwater both tumble outside the ring next to Cuzin Eddie! And the “Lionheart” … sees his opening! He hops in anticipation, waiting for the RIGHT MOMENT. Eddie, Atlas, and Moonwater are taking their feet!
DOUBLE JUMP CORKSCREW MOONSAULT — TO THE OUTSIDE ON TOP OF EVERRRRRYBODY! “LIONHEART, LIONHEART!”
JACK JONES: These high-flyers, always sacrificing their own bodies!
BILL HEWSON: High risk, high reward, that’s certainly Kris Jacobson’s game – an aerial daredevil! But they’ve got to get back in the ring SAMMY DEVINE!!
JACK JONES: HOLY HELL!
Devine out of NOWHERE with a diving plancha onto the entire crowd! All five men are laid out on the outside! Atlas, the resilient one, seems to be first up and he rolls Kris Jacobson into the ring. Atlas with a headbutt to “Lionheart,” sending him into the corner. European uppercuts with some mustard on them! Irish whip to the other corner. Charge in! Jacobson with a boot up! He hooks the head of Atlas SLINGSHOT TORNADO DDT! One, two, kick-out! Jacobson turns around — right into a toekick by Sammy Devine! SAMMY FEVER! One, two, kick-out!
Andellion Moonwater! Springboard dropkick to Sammy Devine! Cover one, two, another kick-out! Moonwater stands up, pulling Devine… “YARRR!” Moonwater turns and gets CLOBBERED by a running two-handed smash by Cuzin Eddie! Atlas attacks Eddie to prevent a pinfall. Headbutt by Atlas… whoa! That backfired, Atlas seeing stars from Eddie’s hard head! Eddie grins, then delivers a headbutt of his own that floors Atlas. Sammy Devine AGAIN leaps on the back of Cuzin Eddie! Jacobson off the ropes — into Eddie’s elbow! Moonwater is up, Eddie with a big boot! Devine won’t let go, holding for dear life to the big man! Eddie, frustrated, stops… and backs up into the turnbuckle, squashing Devine like Wesley versus Fezzik!
Devine holds on! Eddie takes three steps out to the center of the ring and kicks his feet up, leaping into the air, crushing Devine beneath him on the landing! Devine’s eyes cross every which way and Eddie covers him one, two —
EVERYBODY makes the save!
JACK JONES: How is anybody going to get the fall here, Hewson! There’s always going to be another three guys trying to break up the count!
BILL HEWSON: It’s going to take guts, toughness — and maybe a little luck! Nobody said earning the Heritage Title would be EASY.
In the ring, it’s a melee. Cuzin Eddie with a big elbow smash to Moonwater, knocking the Prince into the corner. Eddie sets up in a three-point stance. Football tackle! Moonwater sidesteps, but Eddie grabs him by the waist, German suplex? NO! Countered into a wheelbarrow bulldog! Across the ring, Devine is in the corner — RUNNING DOUBLE KNEES! Moonwater clobbers Devine, who crashes to the mat and rolls to the floor. Atlas and Jacobson are going at it! Atlas going for a German Suplex, Jacobson trying to block! He has the top rope with his finger tips… Atlas gets behind Atlas and takes his legs! He’s holding Atlas, pulls — WHEELBARROW SUPLEX TO ATLAS! WHO GERMANS JACOBSON! Jacobson goes ass-over-teakettle, spinning and twisting…
And landing draped on the middle rope. In prime position for the Lontra Kick! Moonwater hits the opposite ropes — Devine pulls the top rope down! He pops to the apron and in, turns around — CUZIN EDDIE WITH A RUNNING CROSS BODY! Devine and Eddie spill back to the floor! Jacobson pulls himself up, Atlas with a European Uppercut, sends Jacobson to the ropes, Jacobson with a running frankensteiner… No! Atlas counters with surprising strength, hoisting Jacobson up and over with a powerbomb into flapjack! And now Jacobson… is AGAIN on the bottom rope! Atlas looks to load up! THE TIME WARP!
JACK JONES: What what WHAT?!
BILL HEWSON: I don’t believe what we just — Moonwater FROM THE OUTSIDE! The Lontra kick, leaping to the apron! Atlas with his version from inside — and JACOBSON MOVED! Moonwater and Atlas both got kicked in the faces!
The crowd is chanting “WHAT WAS THAT! HOLY CRAP! WHAT WAS THAT! HOLY CRAP!” as Moonwater lays on the ring apron, Atlas in the ring. On the outside! Cuzin Eddie hoists Sammy Devine up high and literally lawn darts him into the crowd, who scatter in a hurry! Eddie lands in a pile of chairs as Cuzin Eddie looks to get into the ring…
GREATEST OF EAAAAASE!
JACOBSON TIGHT-ROPE WALK! And he leaps off and catches Eddie on the floor with a swinging hurricanrana! Eddie crashes into the guardrail! Jacobson leaps back to the apron, springboards in and catches Moonwater with another huricanrana! Atlas is up! European uppercut! Jacobson with his own! THEY’RE TRADING EUROPEAN UPPERCUTS! Both men suddenly explode backwards, marks on their chests from the impact. Jacobson with an irish whip, back body drop — countered by an Atlas swinging neckbreaker! Atlas goes to the top rope… FROG SPLASH! ONE! TWO! Moonwater breaks it up! Moonwater with a sit-out facebuster to Atlas, but Jacobson with a running bulldog! LIONSAULT — Moonwater rolls, but Jacobson lands on his feet, STANDING LEOSAULT! Nails it, one, two, Atlas breaks it up! Jacobson with a kick, Atlas catches it… ATLAS STRETCH! He’s got it locked on, centre of the ring! Jacobson fighting for the ropes!
SAMMY DEVINE BREAKS IT UP!
Sammy Devine throwing forearm shivers to everybody who gets in his way! Atlas sent to a corner! Moonwater takes a spinning heel kick! Jacobson is up, but he’s not safe! A clothesline sends Jacobson to the floor! Atlas comes in with a big Euro uppercut, looking for a German Suplex, Devine counters, hooks his man up, and screams with the fans!
JACK JONES: Huff, huff — I can’t keep up with this action!
BILL HEWSON: Wait a minute, somehow… there are only two men in the ring! And Sammy Devine — is hoping for a little Divine Intervention!
Sammy hits the corner, raises his arms high… and then shifts into a ready stance, fingers wiggling. Atlas is taking his feet… Devine waits…
DIVINE INTERVENTION! Atlas crashes to the canvas! But before Sammy Devine can cover, ANDELLION MOONWATER springboards into the ring…
AND EATS A CUTTER HIMSELF!
JACOBSON WITH A HURICANRANA! Devine somehow keeps “Lionheart” on his shoulders, flips the man off and OH MY GOD DIVINE INTERVENTION! THE CROWD IS LOSING! THEIR! MINDS! Devine flashes a huge grin and CUZIN EDDIE is in the ring! Eddie with a football tackle out of NOWHERE to Devine, crushing the “Starmaker!” Eddie whips Sammy to the ropes, HUGE TWO-HAND PRESS! Devine is TEN FEET IN THE AIR, arms pinwheeling! He comes crashing back down to earth…
AND SOMEHOW CATCHES CUZIN EDDIE WITH DIVINE INTERVENTION ON THE WAY DOWN!!
JACK JONES: Hole. Eee. HELL.
BILL HEWSON: I can’t believe what we’re seeing! This is unbelievable!
Eddie, on instinct, rolls out of the ring. The fans chant loudly, cheering, whistling, going banana.
“THAT WAS AWESOME CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP.
THAT WAS AWESOME CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP.”
BILL HEWSON: EVERYBODY is down thanks to Divine Intervention… but Devine took a bad spill thanks to Cuzin Eddie, can’t capitalize… wait a minute! He just threw an arm over ATLAS! THIS IS IT! ONE! TWO! TH— NO! WHAT?! SHOULDER UP, SHOULDER UP!
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” go the crowd!
Devine groans, he can’t believe it.
JACK JONES: Atlas had just enough time, JUST enough time to recover. And that’s the man who beat Chris Casino in a WAR last month, he’s not going down so easily!
BILL HEWSON: Not one of these men is going down easy! They are all warriors and competitors, this — THIS IS NAPW!!
In the ring, Sammy Devine ponders his next move, as he picks up Atlas. Kris Jacobson and Moonwater are stirring. Cuzin Eddie is on the floor. The chants are numerous.
“LET’S GO SAMMY!”
“DO THE TIME WARP!”
Atlas with a burst of energy! GERMAN SUPLEX folds Devine in half! He grabs Moonwater! GERMAN SUPLEX! Jacobson gets waist-locked GERMAN SUPLEX! All three men down, Atlas goes up top… he has multiple targets!!
JACOBSON RUNS UP THE TURNBUCKLE
Atlas hits the canvas hard! Jacobson nailed by Devine, sent to the ropes! Jacobson uses the momentum, leaps up and nails the JACOBSON DRIVER! Devine bounces down and drapes along the middle rope (!). Jacobson turns around, AONYX KICK by Moonwater! Kris Jacobson lands chest-first on the OPPOSITE middle rope! Moonwater looks around, he has two targets himself…
RUNS TO DEVINE!
ATLAS IS UP AND RUNS TO JACOBSON!
LONTRA KICK! TIME WARP!
Moonwater on the top rope, LUTRASAULT TO SAMMY DEVINE!
Atlas to the top rope… BULLDOG to the staggering Jacobson!
Atlas and Moonwater BOTH COVER THEIR MEN! Referee Smythe takes quick assessment, and hits the canvas slapping BOTH HANDS down!
The big man from Kentucky pulls both Atlas and Andellion up by the scruffs of their necks! DOUBLE NOGGIN KNOCKER! Spinning mule kick sends Atlas to the outside! Eddie gorilla presses Moonwater… And throws him sailing into Atlas on the floor!
BILL HEWSON: Oh my, the big man coming to life! And he’s got Kris Jacobson!
JACK JONES: No, he’s got Sammy Devine!
BILL HEWSON: Jacobson!
JACK JONES: Devine!
BILL HEWSON: … Chain Eddie has BOTH!
Indeed he does! The Kentucky native sets Kris Jacobson up for the TIMBER piledriver… And then roughly hails up Devine, setting the Starmaker chest-to-back on top of Lionheart!
JACK JONES: No frikkin’ way!
BILL HEWSON: He’s got them stacked… He can’t!
Eddie with both men, stacked standing headscissors. The crowd — they haven’t sat down! Eddie gets his barrel arms around both men, lifts… Can’t quite get it. He holds his back, then roars like an Appalachian bear!!
STACKED PILEDRIVER!! TIMMMMMBERRRRRRR!
THE FANS JUMP UP AND DOWN IN AMAZEMENT!!
JACK JONES: HOLEEE HELLLLLL!
BILL HEWSON: AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!
Eddie can’t cover immediately… He hooks the leg of Sammy Devine!
JACK JONES: Devine is coming up short again!
MOONWATER! ATLAS! BOTH MEN BREAK UP THE FALL AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SPLIT SECOND!!
JACK JONES: Can’t… Breathe… Excitement!
BILL HEWSON: Stay with me, Jack Attack! We’re not through yet!
Atlas and Moonwater double-teaming Eddie, perhaps identifying the strong man as the biggest threat. They chop and kick him into the ropes. Double Irish whip… Eddie resists! Double boots from Atlas and Moonwater! Irish ship sends Eddie off the ropes — AND HE EXPLODES OUT WITH A DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!
Atlas manages to duck but Moonwater spins inside out! Eddie turns to face Moonwater — ROUNDHOUSE KICK! To the temple! Eddie sways, out on his feet! Atlas with a clothesline! Eddie staggers backwards to the ropes! Another, Eddie in the ropes! Still standing! Moonwater kips up! He and Atlas rebound and a doubles clothes line FINALLY puts Eddie over the top!
BILL HEWSON: The big man landed on his feet! WAITAMINUTE — SOMERSAULT PLANCHA BY THE OTTER PRINCE!
Eddie and Moonwater slowly getting up… And Atlas ascends to the top rope. Moonwater and Eddie trading blows! They look up!
JACK JONES: Hot Patootie!!
Diving cross body from Atlas onto both men, and all three are sprawled in the aisle!
IN THE RING. Kris Jacobson has gotten to his feet. Chase pounds the canvas, encouraging his boy! The stars clear… And Kris heads to the apeon, climbing to the top rope. He perches, waiting. Sammy Devine is getting up, bent over at the waist!
BILL HEWSON: He could be looking for the Winner’s Circle — the back splash!!
JACK JONES: If he hits that we’ve got a new champion!
BILL HEWSON: Devine has no idea where Jacobson is, no idea where he is! WINNER’S CIRCLE!!
BILL HEWSON: DIVINE INTERVENTION! DIVINE INTERVENTION! DI — VINE — INTERRRRRRVENTIONNNNNNN!
FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner… And NEWWWWWWW Canadian Heritage Champion! SAMMMMMMMYEEEE DEVINNNNNNNNEEE!!
BILL HEWSON: Devine with the Divine Intervention in mid-air on Kris Jacobson. Unbelievable!
JACK JONES: Blink and you’ll miss it — holy crap! What a counter!
BILL HEWSON: After coming up short so many times… Sammy Devine is finally a champion here in NAPW. The Devine Army is going strong!
Sammy Devine rolls over to his back, hand over his eyes. The crowd is wildly applauding. Atlas and Andellion Moonwater roll back into the ring and hoist Devine onto his feet. Referee Smythe passes the title belt to a beckoning Cuzin Eddie. The Kentucky Cuzin places the belt over Devine’s shoulder, then shakes his hand. Jacobson is up, and he and Eddie raise Devine’s hands in the air as Atlas and Moonwater clap. The other wrestlers shake Sammy’s hand and exit the ring. Chase Jacobson pats his son’s shoulder. Devine mugs for the fans and holds the belt high above his head!
BILL HEWSON: Nice to see some sportsmanship here tonight. After one hell of a match-up, Sammy Devine is the first Heritage Champion in over four years! Congratulations to the “Starmaker!”
JACK JONES: Hewson, I don’t think I’ve ever had to pee so bad in my life.
BILL HEWSON: You’re the one who had the super double big gulp right before the show tonight.
JACK JONES: Urngh, Hewson, is that coffee cup empty?
BILL HEWSON: Don’t even think about it, Jack Attack.
JACK JONES: Do you think I have time to sneak off to the men’s room?
Sirens. Gunshots. Helicopters. Explosions. Heavy guitar riffs. “Indestructible” by Disturbed hits the speakers, and shortly after that, Anton Petrov, dressed in full ring gear, hits the stage with Jackson Kass close in tow! The fans give a very mixed reaction to the former champion, but regardless of the boos or the cheers, the fans are loud for this man!
JACK JONES: Never mind.
BILL HEWSON: The Soviet Slaughterhouse is here! But why? He’s not scheduled to compete tonight!
JACK JONES: A travesty, Hewson, that man should be in the main event!
BILL HEWSON: And listen to the fans, Jack Attack! They can’t make up their minds! Have you ever heard such a fifty-fifty reaction from the NAPW fans?
JACK JONES: I don’t think so! Look at his eyes, Hewson! Anton Petrov is a man on a mission!
BILL HEWSON: There sure is a lot of drive in that man, and a lot of our fans can’t help but respect him for it. However, many of our fans disagree with his methods!
JACK JONES: He gets it done, Hewson! That’s what counts.
Petrov pauses for a moment at the entrance ramp, Kass applauding behind him as he looks around at the fans in attendance tonight. Before long, he makes his way to the ring, taking his time, his dark brown eyes dim and unblinking as his upper lip erratically twitches with pent up aggression.
DETERMINATION THAT IS INCORRUPTIBLE FROM THE OTHER SIDE,
A TERROR TO BEHOLD,
ANNIHILATION WILL BE UNAVOIDABLE,
EVERY BROKEN ENEMY WILL KNOW,
THAT THEIR OPPONENT HAD TO BE INVINCIBLE,
TAKE A LAST LOOK AROUND WHILE YOU’RE ALIVE,
I’M AN INDESTRUCTIBLE MASTER OF WAR!”
Petrov climbs the ring steps and Jackson Kass holds the ropes open for his client to climb through. Petrov pauses for a moment before stepping through the ropes, accepting a microphone from his manager as his music dies down. Petrov raises the microphone to his mouth, pauses a moment, and then takes a breath, but stops there as the crowd picks up in volume.
JACK JONES: Quiet down, you ungrateful mouth-breathers, Petrov wants to speak!
BILL HEWSON: Clearly there’s something on the former champ’s mind, but every fan in attendance wants him to know what they think of him, good or bad!
Petrov patiently waits for the fans to get it out of their system, his eyes scanning the audience who are half cheering loudly, half booing intensely. Finally, it quiets down enough for Petrov to raise the mic to his lips a second time. He takes a breath, but this time the fans erupt into two different chants!
Petrov is visibly annoyed now, his upper lip curling into a snarl, but hasn’t lowered the mic from his mouth this time.
Anton Petrov: Shut hell up.
BOO! The chants have subsided, but the fans are now unanimously booing at him. Petrov lowers the mic again, allowing the fans another chance to quiet down on their own.
BILL HEWSON: The fans didn’t like that, Jack Attack!
JACK JONES: They’re holding the man up while he’s trying to speak, Hewson! How would you feel?
The fans finally quiet down and Petrov raises the mic to his lips a third time.
Anton Petrov: I suppose you are wondering why I am here, da?
JACK JONES: Yes we are!
The fans agree! Petrov makes brief eye contact with Kass before continuing.
Anton Petrov: Then let us get down to tacks of brass. I am here because… I am not happy.
Petrov lowers the mic as the fans break into a “YOU GOT BEAT” chant! Petrov smirks, as if mildly amused.
JACK JONES: Of course, Petrov was robbed! There’s no way he should have lost that match!
BILL HEWSON: I seriously doubt that the Soviet Slaughterhouse would come out here just to make excuses, Jack Attack.
Anton Petrov: Da, you believe that is because I lost championship rematch to Abigail last month at House of Cards.
“GRAVES! GRAVES! GRAVES!” Petrov waits for the crowd to quiet down again.
Anton Petrov: That is where you would be wrong.
The fans hush in confusion. Petrov lets the trademark smirk plaster his face.
Anton Petrov: To contrary, I am quite pleased with result of House of Cards, and I am glad that Abigail is able to continue reign as champion. That does not make me unhappy.
JACK JONES: If that’s not it, then what is it?
BILL HEWSON: These fans want to know as well! Hell, I’d like to know too!
The fans cheer for Abbey Graves! Petrov looks toward the entrance ramp, but only briefly before raising the mic to his mouth again.
Anton Petrov: Then, you might think I am unhappy because that loss effectively put me out of world title contention. Being cast aside for likes of Jay Deschain.
JACK JONES: Is that it?
The fans boo the mention of Jay Deschain. Petrov lets out a breath and shakes his head.
BILL HEWSON: I guess not.
Anton Petrov: If you have been paying attention, even the most uneducated of you must realize by now that I do not care for gold or glory. At least, not any more. Fighting in mid card does not make me unhappy.
Petrov’s eyebrows dim as his upper lip twitches slightly.
Anton Petrov: But, here I come to see card for Mayday and find, much to my surprise… Soviet Slaughterhouse has not been booked to fight.
Petrov sneers, baring his teeth like an animal. Kass is nodding his head.
Anton Petrov: This is unacceptable.
JACK JONES: It’s true, Hewson! He should be on the card tonight!
Petrov is looking toward the ramp now. His cold, unblinking eyes are burning through the curtain.
JACK JONES: He looks angry, Hewson! Who do you think he’s looking for?
BILL HEWSON: I don’t know, but I know I wouldn’t want to be the one to cross Anton Petrov!
Anton Petrov: Am I not worth moment’s consideration in eyes of our commissioner? Have I fallen so far from graces to be left out of event that includes superhero pretender fighting beauty pageant reject? Has NAPW forgotten who I am?
Petrov’s last syllables are enforced with an angry snarl. His teeth are bare, and his eyes wide in rage. It takes a moment, but Petrov calms down and brings the anger to an uncomfortable minimum.
Anton Petrov: … Unacceptable… Especially considering that obvious opponent for me is sitting back there right now, also with no opponent this week.
JACK JONES: Who do you think he means, Hewson?
BILL HEWSON: I have a feeling, Jack Attack.
Petrov looks out to the crowd once more.
Anton Petrov: You all want to know why I am here?
The sentence hangs a moment. The crowd is abuzz. Petrov’s upper lip twitches as he raises the mic to his lips.
Anton Petrov: I have come to destroy Clancy King.
A beat goes by. The fans… are cheering? They might not be sure how they feel about the Soviet Slaughterhouse, but they would sure love to see him get what he came for! Petrov looks toward the entrance again.
Anton Petrov: Clancy, King of Swine! I know you are back there. I know you are listening. I warned you that you would never be rid of me. You have something I want, and now my patience has run out.
The fans go BANANA!
BILL HEWSON: They want to see it, Jack Attack!
JACK JONES: I want to see it too!
Petrov growls into the microphone once more, in spite of the volume of the crowd!
Anton Petrov: Face me, nichego ne stoit kucha der’ma i ploti sviney. We settle this NOW.
Petrov throws the microphone over his shoulder and Kass barely catches it. Petrov stands resolute, staring at the curtain, like a wolf waiting to pounce.
Cue Saint-Saens’ Symphony No. 3. The crowd boos… in the ring, Petrov lets out the slightest of smiles, baring his teeth. But his brow furrows as the Earl of Dokken takes to the end of the stage, a scroll in one hand, a microphone in the other.
The Earl of Dokken: In my hand, I have a royal proclamation from his royal highness Clancy. If you would please quiet down and give my lord the proper respect he deserves-
The Earl is drowned out by a chorus of boos, and he starts wagging his finger at the audience.
The Earl of Dokken: (shouting over the crowd) I can wait here all day. I can outlast all of you rabble.
Anton Petrov: (impatiently) Is not crowd you have to worry about, Baron Dokken. Is me.
The Earl of Dokken: (blanching) Well, I guess I can project. (He unfurls the scroll, pulls out a pair of reading glasses.) Ahem! Ahem! “A proclamation from Clancy, King of NAPW! Due to the events at House of Cards, where the NAPW champion, Abbey Graves, dropkicked me in the chest and bruised a rib, I will be taking a night off from competing.”
BILL HEWSON: A bruised rib? It’s been a month, certainly Clancy has been okayed to wrestle since then.
The Earl of Dokken: “I have been a true competitor since arriving in the NAPW last year, and will be recuperating from this grievous injury until I am one hundred per cent ready to compete again. Then and only then will I return to active competition, and reclaim my rightful place at the top of NAPW.”
The Earl refurls the scroll, and extends his arm out to Petrov.
The Earl of Dokken: My deepest regrets, Mister Petrov, but it won’t be Clancy, King of NAPW, that you’ll be pummelling out of frustration about losing yet again last month. Might I suggest you pick a battle against someone else, like Cousin Edward, or Lawrence Droese?
JACK JONES: Who?
BILL HEWSON: He’s referring to Lardo.
Petrov paces the ring, and after a few seconds of staring the Earl down, brings the mic to his lips.
Anton Petrov: Pity that King couldn’t bring himself to fight own battle, sends you instead, but I came for fight. I intend to get it. You wish to take his place, comrade? I came to gut pig, but I could settle for his loyal dog.
The Earl of Dokken: (guffaws) You think I’m suicidal enough to make my way down to that ring, get in between the ropes, and submit myself to the manhandling you try to disguise as wrestling? I am no wrestler, sir. The only way I’d be less prepared to face off against you is if it were a challenge to eat the most borsht, or a contest over who has the more delusional world leader.
Petrov opens his mouth to reply, his eyes flashing in anger, however Kass, beet red and fuming, snatches the microphone away!
Jackson Kass: You listen here, Dokken, you royal fuck. I’m getting really sick of your crap, walking with your nose in the air like you’re better than everyone else, makes me sick, so do us all a favour and shove that scroll of yours so far up your ass that you’re chewing on paper! I ain’t a wrestler either, pal, but I’ll give you a Brooklyn beat down like you wouldn’t believe, and if you ain’t got the balls, why don’t you run off and find that Prince Percy Pantywaist before Petrov and I kick your teeth in!
Petrov looks angry, then simply stares at Kass with an eyebrow raised in surprise. The fans are actually cheering for Kass’s intensity! A “Pantywaist! Pantywaist!” chant comes from a section of the fans.
The Earl of Dokken: (incredulous) You? Jackson Kass, you want to get your hands on me? I beg your pardon, but I haven’t been trained to wrestler in a ring like some commoner. If you were looking for some PROPER contest, like polo or fencing, I’d certainly be the victor. The only thing you could “kick my teeth in,” as you so eloquently put it is if we had a competition to see who could nosily eat the most Coney Island dogs, or who could be more disrespectful to their mother.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ve got more pressing matters to take care of backstage. Anton, I’m sorry, but you’ll be taking the night off. And Jackson, you’ll never be facing off against me.
JACK JONES: Who is that? Is that God?
BILL HEWSON: Oh no – even worse for the Earl of Dokken!
Hewson is right, because the head of security for NAPW, Jake Phoenix, is stomping his way to the ring, microphone in the hand for the first time in God knows how long. The crowd reacts very positively to Phoenix, who, for his part, doesn’t seem to care less. He’s out here because there’s business.
Jake Phoenix: Okay, as you can all see, Terry Brandon’s not here tonight.
A small smattering of cheers from a few vocal members of the crowd isn’t enough to derail Phoenix’s soliloquy.
Jake Phoenix: AND since Brandon ain’t here, that leaves ME running the (bleep)ing show tonight. And I really am REALLY not happy about what I’m seeing right now, because what I’m seein’ is a guy that’s scared to fight!
The Earl of Dokken: AS I’ve already said, I’m not a wrestler, and there’s no way I’d face that goon in such a barbaric fashion.
Phoenix just tilts his head slightly, and stares down the Earl of Dokken. He slowly reaches out with one gloved hand.. and with a quick flick of his fingers, knocks the tall Beefeater’s hat right off his head, as it flutters down to the mat.
Jake Phoenix: AS I WAS SAYING, we seem to have a problem here, and I’m a problem solver, so I’m out here to solve this problem. YOU say you don’t want this, but IIII say I do, and what IIII say goes, because I’m in charge. AND I think this crowd wants Petrov to fight Clancy, the Clown of NAPW again!
Petrov nods his head in solemn agreement as the crowd bursts out in a cheer.
Jake Phoenix: And with next month being TAGSTRAVAGANZA… You know the eff what? I think there’s a term for what’s gonna go down. I think it goes like this..
Phoenix clears his throat.
Jake Phoenix: …we’re gonna have ourselves a TAG TEAM MATCH, PLAYA!
The crowd goes nuts.
Jake Phoenix: I always wanted to say that. So next month, it’s gonna be Anton Petrov and his yappy little manager Jackson Kass against Clancy King and the Earl of Dokken. You four can settle your (bleep) once and for all, how does that sound?
Petrov grins with curled angry lips, Kass pumps his fist and talks tough, as the Earl gapes and tries to plead his case with Phoenix, who promptly puts the Oakleys back on and walks away. Earl yips after him.
JACK JONES: … but how can their be girl Transformers, Hewson? They’re robots. I mean, do they like, DO it or something? They’re robots! Wouldn’t they just BUILD new ones?
BILL HEWSON: I’ve never seen Transformers, a little past my time. You could ask Gregor Watt or one of our younger colleagues.
JACK JONES: I mean, wait, if they BUILD new Transformers, that means a basically genderless race chose to build a ‘female’ version? This is just getting creepy.
BILL HEWSON: It IS a kid’s cartoon, Jack.
FRANK WARBURTON: This next match is scheduled for one fall…
“AND SHOULD WE FALL DOWN BY THE WAYSIDE
IN THIS EVER-CHANGING WORLD
WE CAN LOOK BACK TO THESE HEROES FROM OUR PAST!”
“Heroes From Our Past” by Dropkick Murphys hits the speakers!!
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, he hails from Boston, Massachusetts and weighs in at TWO-hundred and FORTY-five pounds… the “Boston Bruiser!” PAT! GORDON! JUNIORRRRRRR!
Pat Gordon Jr emerges from the back and quickly makes his way to the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of fans along his way. He looks pumped up and ready to go!
BILL HEWSON: The young man from Beantown, son of the well-respected Pat Gordon! He’s a tough-as-nails fighter with a strong sense of honor, which led to PGjr teaming up with Xristus last month to vanquish the Order of Orochi!
JACK JONES: Why are Bostonians so fiercely proud of everything? Boston! Irish! Boxing! Drinking! Uh, green!
BILL HEWSON: Will you be serious?
“You can’t hide
You can’t hiiide
You can’t hide
Cos you don’t know how
God’s got your number
And he knows where you live
Death’s got a warrant for youuuuu”
“Death’s Got A Warrant” by Patty Griffin hits the speakers and the cheers for Gordon turn to unanimous boos.
FRANK WARBURTON: His opponent, he hails from Sweetwater, Texas and weighs in at TWO-hundred and FIFTEEN pounds, “The Leader of the New Dawn” Joshua Rapture!!!
A scruffy looking Rapture steps out from behind the curtain and makes a beeline for the ring. Rapture looks like he hasn’t shaved, bathed or generally cared for his person in days or weeks.
BILL HEWSON: An interesting match here between…
JACK JONES: A goody-good and a scruffy cult leader.
BILL HEWSON: … Pat Gordon Jr, fighting spirit from the state of Massachusetts. Joshua Rapture… no telling where his head is at at the best of times, but he hasn’t been the same since Andellion Moonwater defeated him last month.
JACK JONES: Is that a nice way of saying Rapture looks like a mess?
Rapture slides into the ring, bounds to his feet and blasts past referee Stewie Lamoine as he practically tackles Gordon! The referee hurriedly calls for the bell as Gordon covers up from a barrage of punches from Rapture.
BILL HEWSON: Rapture dives right into Gordon! He’s shown signs recently of instability and we’re seeing more of it now!
Gordon shoves off Rapture, rolls to his feet and looks ready for a fight. Which is good since Rapture also springs to a vertical base, and charges back towards his foe. Gordon blocks a right hand and answers with one of his own. Another right from Gordon! Make it three and Rapture staggers back against the ropes. Pat follows him in and takes a rake to the face! Rapture grabs Pat by the head with one hand and lays in a trio of short but stiff forearm shots to the face of Gordon. Referee Stewie Lamoine is trying to get the men away from the ropes and neither pay him any mind. Another rake to the face and Pat is scooped up and slammed to the mat. Rapture drops to all fours and blatantly chokes Gordon. Lamoine gets to a count of 4 & 3/4ths before breaking the choke.
BILL HEWSON: Rapture is, well, pardon the pun, like a man possessed tonight!
JACK JONES: He’s gone squirrely, that’s for sure.
Rapture tries to drag Gordon up but takes a shot to the gut. Another right hand to the stomach from Gordon causes separation for Pat. “Irish Kiss” Headbutt! Another! Rapture is on spaghetti legs! Rapture is whipped into the far corner and hits hard. Gordon catches a boot to the face as he rushes in after Rapture. Pat staggers away from the ring and Rapture explodes out, rage in his eyes. Snap powerslam from Gordon! Pat tries for a cover but Rapture wiggles out before the referee can even get into position.
BILL HEWSON: Gotta give it to Gordon. He didn’t expect an insane Joshua Rapture tonight, but he’s giving as good as he’s taking.
JACK JONES: Kinda makes me miss REBEL Pro.
BILL HEWSON: What? Really?
JACK JONES: Naw. If I never got back to North Carolina, it’ll be too soon…
The no-holds-barred pace of the contest so far reminding Jack Attack of NAPW’s one-time sister fed, North Carolina’s REBEL Pro Wrestling. The action continues as Rapture rolls to the outside and Gordon follows him out. Gordon grabs Rapture, spins him around and plants a big time right hand! Rapture responds with a kick to the gut of Gordon. Rapture whips Gordon to the rails. It’s reversed and Pat Gordon sends Rapture ribs first into the steel barricade! Pat rolls into the ring and then as quickly back out to break the count. Rapture is slumped over as Pat approaches him. Rapture pops upright and slams a water bottle he grabbed off the floor across the head of Gordon! Fans cheer as water flies everywhere but Rapture fixes them with a contemptuous glare.
BILL HEWSON: Gordon is winning the NAPW faithful over, but Rapture is relentless!
Joshua Rapture grabs Gordon and slams him head first against the barricade. Referee Lamoine is out and yelling for some kind of order. Rapture backs away from Pat, leans over the ring barricade and grabs a chair from a fan. The referee is yelling at Rapture and is promptly ignored as Joshua runs past him, chair in hand and fury in his eyes. Pat Gordon backdrops Rapture into the front row!
BILL HEWSON: And there went Rapture!
JACK JONES: And pretty much that entire group along the first row! You come to NAPW you get your money’s worth!
Referee Lamoine is red in the face from yelling at the men and is threatening a double DQ. Gordon reaches over the railing, grabs Rapture and drags him back over. Pat shoves Rapture into the ring and slides in after him. A cover and Referee Lamoine gets a count of 2 before Rapture kicks out. Gordon pulls Rapture to his feet and gets shoved away. Rapture clocks Gordon across the chest with a brutal open handed chop that echoes through the building! A return chop from Gordon!
Chop from Rapture!
Chop from Gordon!
Chop from Rapture!
Chop from Gordon!
A thumb to the eye from Rapture! The fans boo but Joshua could care less. Short arm clothesline from Rapture! Joshua hangs onto the arm of Gordon, pulls him back to his feet and hits a second short arm clothesline. Rapture refuses to let go of the arm of Gordon and drags him back to a vertical base. A third bone jarring short arm clothesline!
BILL HEWSON: Good night! You could see the sweat flying off the body of Pat Gordon with every hit!
JACK JONES: I’ll admit I’m really liking this Joshua Rapture. He reminds me of myself from back in the day. Minus the delusional cult leader aspect.
BILL HEWSON: That one fan club was a little intense.
JACK JONES: That wasn’t a fan club, that was a single thirty-something redhead who had a shrine to me in her basement!
BILL HEWSON: Didn’t you marry her?
JACK JONES: Yeah, she had the honor of becoming wife number four and a half.
BILL HEWSON: Four and a half? You know, never mind… Joshua Rapture continuing his assault — yet Pat Gordon will not die!
Instead of going for a cover Rapture is content to lay in several kicks to the head and shoulders of Gordon. Rapture ‘moves’ Lamoine out of his way and gets a serious tongue lashing. Rapture pulls Gordon up and whips him into the ropes. It’s reversed and it’s Rapture who is sent sailing into the ring ropes. Rapture ducks his head, nearly falls through the ropes —
LARIAT BY GORDON!!
BILL HEWSON: Rapture and Gordon had the same idea … and now neither man moves as the referee lays in his count!
JACK JONES: Good night, Irene!
BILL HEWSON: How could either man get up from that? That nearly took each others heads off!
Gordon is stirring!
Rapture rolls over onto his stomach,
JACK JONES: Double count out. I totally called it. (under his breath) Why didn’t I bet on it…
Both men get to their feet at 9 & .999999!!! The fans are going crazy!
BILL HEWSON: Both these men showing they desperately want to win this!
Rapture and Gordon each sink back to their knees, face-to-face in the center of the ring. Each man looks spent, but Rapture wields a vicious right cross that tips Gordon’s head back. The Boston Bruiser with a solid right hand, and Rapture’s knees get weak. He recovers to deliver a strong left jab that rocks Gordon!
Closed fist by Gordon.
Open hand by Rapture.
Uppercut by Gordon.
RAPTURE! GORDON! RAPTURE! GORDON!
BILL HEWSON: ON THEIR KNEES — BEATING THE LIVING SNOT OUT OF EACH OTHER!
JACK JONES: Back Alley Sally!
The crowd is ROARING for this and chanting “THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!” Finally it’s GORDON with an absolutely savage fist to the side of the head — he coldcocks his opponent. Rapture sways in the proverbial breeze before falling backwards. The top of his head nearly touches the canvas before his legs give out and he collapses in a strangely peaceful heap on the canvas.
Gordon gets on his man, rolling him over and up for the PAT LOCK! Crossface chickenwing, Bahstahn style! Trying to hook it. Rapture struggles out and counters into what looks like a Death Valley Driver! Gordon reverses it by wiggling off the shoulders and dropping down behind Rapture. Roll up from behind!
Rapture kicks out at two! TOEKICK! Gordon hoists Rapture up for the Sunday Morning Hangover, the Screwdrive!!
…but gets a thumb to the eye!
HOLY CULL OUT OF NOWHERE!!
Rapture hooks a leg! ONE! TWO! THREE! This one is in the books!
FRANK WARBURTON: Here is your winner… JOSHUA RAPTURE!
The fans boo as Rapture slinks to the bottom rope, resting his head against it with a strange, delirious grin. Gordon rolls onto his side and uses his fist to push up to one knee, holding his head.
BILL HEWSON: Rapture gets the win, cheap shot to close out an absolutely fierce contest.
JACK JONES: The two hardest hitters currently in NAPW bar none, keeripes. In one way, both of these men are winners.
BILL HEWSON: Quite right, Jack Attack.
JACK JONES: In another more accurate way, Joshua Rapture is the winner!
BILL HEWSON: Hard fought by Pat Gordon Jr as he makes his name here in NAPW, but Rapture with a big bounce-back win after last month. And… Oh no, what is THIS?
Bill Hewson is talking about the mob suddenly streaming to the ring. A dozen or so fit young men and women, all wearing white. White sneakers, white pants, white golf shirts… With the logo of the NEW DAWN embroidered on the pocket!
JACK JONES: Hey! I have some questions about my membership!
BILL HEWSON: This doesn’t look good for Pat Gordon Jr! These… Acolytes of Joshua Rapture surrounding the ring!
Gordon takes his feet, ready to defend himself as the sea of white encircles the squared circle. The New Dawn, as one, step onto the apron. They enter the ring, Gordon putting his dukes up!
And the New Dawn faithful begin to move.
Right PAST Pat Gordon Jr.
BILL HEWSON: They… Don’t even seem to see Gordon! What…
JACK JONES: Oh no, Hewson — Rapture must not have paid his dues.
The expression on Rapture’s face turns from dreamy menace to panic as he feels the eyes of his disciples burning into him. Gordon looks puzzled, not dropping his defenses, but… The New Dawn advance on Rapture! Joshua puts his fists up, is he going to fight his own church?
Suddenly, Rapture’s shoulders sag. He holds his hands out in peaceful supplication and goes limp as he is picked up! He is passed over the top rope to a half-dozen white-clad, grim-faced devotees on the floor. They lift Rapture high and walk up the aisle in eerie silence, holding their scruffy leader high above the Earth.
Is Joshua Rapture being exalted… Or sacrificed?
In the ring, Pat Gordon Jr shakes his head. Dropkick Murphys kick in and the Boston Bruiser mugs for the fans.
JACK JONES: … that much concrete in your pants.
BILL HEWSON: I’d be more concerned about the how the bride reacted.
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for ONE FALL… and is for the NAPW WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!
Trivium and “In Waves” hits the speakers and the crowd’s excitement for the main event quickly translates into loud, enthusiastic booing.
FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, weighing in at TWO HUNDRED and FORTY ONE pounds. From Black Diamond, Washington. Your 2014 CANADA CUP WINNER. He is the PERFECT STORM. JAY! DESCHAIN!
“The Perfect Storm” JAY DESCHAIN struts out from the curtain to the jeers of the crowd, a smirk on his face. He holds the Canada Cup trophy and raises it above his head on the stage, then starts down to the ring.
BILL HEWSON: Months ago, Jay Deschain was hand picked by Terry Brandon to compete for the NAPW World Title in only his second match… but, sadly, history is not on his side.
JACK JONES: History is an old chump who should go live in a home, Hewson. This is the NEW Jay Deschain. He’s got fire, he’s got passion, and he’s willing to do anything – ANYTHING – to add more gold to his trophy case.
Jay stops at ringside to take a moment and sneer at a few 20-something front row fans who start throwing some insults his way, then holds his trophy up in their faces and tells them to go back to their parents’ basements. With that he hands off the cup to the time keeper and climbs into the ring.
“2nd Sucks” and A Day to Remember brings the crowd to its feet!
FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent. Weighing in at ONE HUNDRED and THIRTY pounds. From Coram, NEW YORK. She is YOUR NAPW WORLD CHAMPION! ABBEYYYYYYYY! GRAVES!
ABBEY GRAVES flies out of the curtain, just a ball of energy, and sprints down the ramp. She slides into the ring and hops up on the second rope in a corner. She holds the championship belt high over her head to a cheer from the crowd. Jay Deschain watches, leaning in his corner, and sarcastically applauds her with a smirk on his face.
BILL HEWSON: There’s no denying Abbey Graves her place, Jack Attack. She’s come a long way in a short time to claim the top prize in NAPW, and she’s established herself as a fighting champion.
JACK JONES: No one’s denying her in-ring ability, Hewson – not even Jay Deschain. But, you know, he’s right. She’s so busy pandering to the crowd that maybe it’s holding her back. She should take a lesson from the Perfect Storm, and learn to cut loose.
BILL HEWSON: … wait, you’re saying the current NAPW World Champion should be looking up to Jay Deschain?
JACK JONES: That’s exactly what I’m saying.
Graves hops down off the ropes and hands the belt off to senior referee Martin Chan who appears to be officiating the main event tonight. Jay walks to the middle of the ring where Chan shows off the belt for a moment, then passes it off and calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
… and Jay and Abbey just glare at each other. The crowd is cheering the staredown.
BILL HEWSON: No love lost here. Ever since Battlebowl, last December, these two have had an issue. It was a matter of time before it came to a head.
Neither budges, and finally Graves leans in a bit, smiling. “You gonna smash my face or n–” she doesn’t finish the sentence because Deschain is throwing an elbow into her mouth. The crowd BOOS as Abbey drops and the Perfect Storm just unloads with a bunch of angry stomping – to the point that Graves has to crawl to the ropes for a ropebreak! Martin Chan warns Deschain who backs off as the crowd jeers. He takes a moment to extend his arms and spin in place so everyone can appreciate him.
JACK JONES: Yes! Give in to your anger! Your hate makes you strong!
Graves pulls herself back up to her feet, and glances back at the gloating Deschain, smirking. As he turns back to her, he’s greeted by a standing dropkick! The crowd pops as Jay staggers around, clutching his face in surprise – and Abbey is right behind him, grabbing a handful of hair and bulldogging him right into the unforgiving canvas. She rolls to her feet, hops… standing senton right on Deschain’s spine! Jay howls, clutching at his back, and pulls himself out of the ring.
JACK JONES: Smart play by Deschain. He needs to slow down Graves’ offense before she takes control here.
Deschain takes a moment to recuperate at ringside while Martin Chan begins counting him out – but you can barely hear him because the crowd has started chanting “GRAVES! GRAVES! GRAVES! GRAVES!” Jay actually glares into the crowd, which seems to only give them more energy. Abbey, in the ring, smiles and starts clapping along to the chant. Chan is at about a six count when Deschain grits his teeth and slides back into the ring – and this time he’s ready for Abbey’s offense. He ducks around a stiff looking high kick, hooks her from the side – and suplexes her. Graves crashes to the mat, and Deschain presses his attack – he mounts her back and unleashes the Maelstrom to boos from the crowd.
BILL HEWSON: A vicious assault from the Perfect Storm on the champ.
Graves gets hit with a few mean looking strikes to the side of the head, and an elbow that drives her face into the canvas – then Jay rises, pulling her up by the back of her tights, and cinches up for a picture perfect German Suplex… with a bridge! 1! 2!
And Abbey manages to kick out at 2. Deschain is relentless, though. Before Graves can reach up to a rope to pull herself up, he’s roughly pulled her around, hooked her head, and goes for his Stalling…
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
Jay flips the entire crowd the bird – what a guy.
WAIT FOR IT!
REVERSED INTO A DDT!
The crowd EXPLODES into a cheer as Deschain bounces head-first off the canvas like his spine is made of springs. He crashes to the ground as Graves rolls back to her feet and hits the ropes. Deschain tries to scramble back up – but he takes a sliding kick to the leg that causes him to flip right over with a shout of surprise. Abbey barely slows down, allowing the momentum to carry her toward a corner where she runs up to the top rope…
Right into the Perfect Storm’s heart! Jay spasms in the ring as the crowd cheers, and Graves drops to hook his leg!
BILL HEWSON: Near fall for the champ, there, off that rib-crushing double stomp!
JACK JONES: The Perfect Storm needs to do something to get back into this match, or his ship is sunk!
The crowd applauds and cheers as Abbey takes a second to breathe. Deschain takes advantage of the moment to roll out of the ring again, and the crowd starts to jeer him again. Abbey sees him go, and rises back to her feet as Martin Chan begins again counting out Jay. She stalks him as he circles the ring, and you can see the wheels turning in his head.
BILL HEWSON: What’s that rat up to?
JACK JONES: Hey! Jay Deschain is a savvy ring tactician. He’s just formulating a new strategy, not cooking up some “scheme.”
As Chan hits 7, the Perfect Storm rolls back into the ring just long enough to break the count – then right back out to boos from the crowd. Graves leans over the corner to shout down at him “Hey, Deschain. I may be a girl, but at least I didn’t forget MY balls in the locker room.”
JACK JONES: Oh, snap!
“YOU GOT SERVED! YOU GOT SERVED!” Yeah, the crowd’s into that.
Jay glances around, then smiles and actually laughs – then he grabs her leg and trips her. She tries to kick away, but he catches her other leg… and he pulls her into a Figure Four around the ringpost! Abbey cries out in pain, arms flailing wildly as the crowd BOOS at Deschain. Chan angrily shouts at him to break the illegal hold – the Undertow – and starts counting it! 1! 2! 3! 4! And Jay releases it. Abbey, clutching at her knee, rolls toward the middle of the ring, wincing in pain as Deschain slides back into the ring.
JACK JONES: How do you shut down Abbey Graves’ offence, Hewson? You attack her legs. Her speed and powerful kicks are her top two weapons. I told you Deschain was a tactical wrestler.
BILL HEWSON: Not a very sporting one, though.
Graves is shakily retaking her feet as the Perfect Storm grabs her and whips her into the ropes. She rebounds and he catches her in the Tornado Buster, planting her mid-ring!
BILL HEWSON: Uh oh!
The crowd is already loudly booing, knowing the set-up for High Tide Lock! Deschain grabs Abbey’s legs… but she tries to kick away, squirming toward the ropes. He manages to turn her over… and locks in the deadly submission move just as she catches the bottom rope! Martin Chan again begins his count! 1! 2! 3! 4! And again Deschain breaks the hold only at the last possible moment. Abbey is a bit slow to pull herself up on the ropes, wincing. She turns around…
Graves ducks under the attack! She goes to hit the ropes… and stumbles! She winces as she drops to a knee. Jay sees her distress and smirks. He stalks over as Abbey tries to rise back up, spins her around – and she nails a jaw-jammer on him that sends him reeling right back into the corner, arms pinwheeling. The crowd cheers as Abbey rises, and gives her leg a shake, wincing. The Perfect Storm, clutching his face, staggers forward and looks up just in time to see Graves surge forward with a running knee…
And Jay pulls Martin Chan into the line of fire!
BILL HEWSON: NO!
Abbey has the presence of mind to pull the attack at the last second but still crashes into Chan. The crowd boos as both collapse into a tangled mess, and Deschain bails over the ropes to ringside.
BILL HEWSON: That was no accident!
JACK JONES: You’re telling me! Abbey Graves was clearly aiming for Chan! Whoa, look out Hewson!
As Graves checks on Chan’s condition, Jay was stalked over to the announce table and roughly shoves Hewson off his chair shouting “Out of my way!”
BILL HEWSON: What, hey!
Deschain folds up the chair and stalks back to the ring.
JACK JONES: The Perfect Storm touched you Hewson! What an honour!
BILL HEWSON: No! Someone stop him!
Abbey hasn’t noticed the ambush waiting for her as Jay Deschain sets himself off to tee off on her with the chair. The crowd is shouting and screaming at her to turn and notice. Martin Chan, clutching his head, starts to slowly pull himself up on the ropes – and Graves finally turns to see Jay with the chair… but he hesitates, seeing Chan rising.
BILL HEWSON: Do the right thing!
Not going to happen, Hewson. Instead of hitting her, Deschain bangs the chair noisily on the canvas, then throws it at her! Graves catches it smoothly…
… and Deschain noisily collapses like he’s been shot, just as referee Chan turns around.
The crowd is already booing as Abbey’s eyes meet Martin Chan’s, both looking surprised for entirely different reasons.
BILL HEWSON: NO!
And he calls for the bell.
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen… Abbey Graves has been DISQUALIFIED. The winner of this match… The PERFECT STORM! JAAAAAAY! DESCHAIN!
The crowd continues to boo loudly as Trivium hits the speakers and Chan goes over to help up Deschain, who slowly rises, asking Chan “Am I bleeding? Did she cut me?”
Graves just stands there with the chair, looking absolutely dumbfounded.
JACK JONES: Looks like this so-called “champ” just ensured she wouldn’t be losing her belt tonight.
BILL HEWSON: What!? Graves didn’t do a damned thing!
JACK JONES: Then why was she caught red-handed using an illegal chair shot in the match?
BILL HEWSON: Do you have eyes? This is a setup! YOU SAW IT HAPPEN!
JACK JONES: Oh, so when the Rabble get themselves disqualified to retain the belts it’s somehow evil, but when Graves does it it’s all a misunderstanding? Double standards, Hewson! I’m glad they took your chair! You don’t deserve one!
Abbey looks between Jay and the chair, mouth hanging open, then looks out over the crowd who is still loudly booing the Perfect Storm. She looks back at the chair… then anger flashes across her features and she takes a SWING at him with it! The crowd CHEERS – but Deschain ducks the attack… and Martin Chan intercepts, holding Abbey back and warning her to back off. She shrugs him off, shouting an endless stream of profanities after the Perfect Storm and advancing on him with the chair – so Chan gestures to the back and some NAPW officials run down the ramp to help keep her at bay. Graves manages to get another swing in with the chair, but Deschain manages to avoid that one too, just as the first of the security guards catches her arm and starts pulling her back.
With Abbey contained, Jay rolls out of the ring, laughing.
JACK JONES: Did you see that! Jay Deschain is absolutely right about her, Hewson! He’s right about everything! This is YOUR champion, NAPW – for SHAME.
Deschain grabs his trophy from the time keeper’s table and starts backing up the ramp, sneering at the crowd… and at Graves – who has three men holding her back from running after him.
“Don’t you all see!? She’s JUST! LIKE! ME!”
Graves seethes after him.