"People seem to think there is some sort of power struggle for the NEXT Wisconsin State Title but I ask of you... where's the struggle? [Johnny F'n Malibu.] [Lets roll.] [There's a banner, it's pretty, and instead of saying NEXT on it like everyone else is just says one simple word, "Champion". In front of said banner is none other then our hero, our true saviour of all that is holy when it comes to wrestling and entertainment. He is no Jesus but by god he's Johnny F'n Malibu and damn he makes this look good.] [Malibu stands before us, arms at his hips, gold around his waist, smirk on his face and he looks like a million bucks. The Irresistible Object has a turquoise robe thrown over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around his athletic frame. Underneath he sports no shirt, a pair of matching wrestling shorts, with knee/shin guards and boots that match as well. He's so coordinated, like all champs should be.] JFM: You people don't seem to get it. I came to NEXT, gave a nice little talk about how I would shake things up and become your beloved champion of champions. There were lots of rumours floating around that I didn't have what it takes to get my hands dirty in a place like this, that if the red carpets weren't rolling out for me and if said owner wasn't gift wrapping the gold to put under my Christmas tree, that I wouldn't be able to get it done. It was a diversion when you think about it. Because while everyone was standing around in the rumble, waiting for who was going to hit who, I took the Wisconsin State Championship and walked right out the front door. [Malibu grins.] JFM: And suddenly Eric Dane thinks because of how I went about things that I am cowardly. That I... I... [He gathers himself.] JFM: Dodged the competition! My god man, you must be right! Or maybe I was just too busy waiting for the right moment to eliminate your sorry over hyped piece of nothingness so I could shamelessly flaunt the title in front of your face. Yeah, I like my version better. But don't worry Eric, just click your little shoes together and you can make all of this go away and return to playing Reindeer Games or whatever it is your little gang of fucktwats like to do. But enough about you. Because really, this week isn't about you at all. You'll be busy playing set up man to my closing duties when I send NEXT's very own biblical juggernaut Messiah home in a box to Mother Mary. Hi Messiah! [Johnny waves.] JFM: So nice of you to join me at the big kid's table. I remember once, long before some marketing genius decided to put a big "I" at the end of NEO, when you were considered the man of what would eventually become our council. Sadly, all you are now is a bargaining chip in my game who has cowardly hidden away from wrestling like the third string pussy that you are trying so hard not to look like. Given, you are no schmuck my friend. No pushover, no walk down candyland lane. What you are is a talented schmuck, well on your way to the role of mediocre legend status for the great duels you could one day have with Cowboy with a K, Matt Corwin. Because to me? That's all you really are. There are no barbed-wires or cages, Messiah. No pretty pink florescent light tubes or thumbtacks this time around. It's just and me and really when you think about it, you don't stand a goddamn chance, get it? And when it comes down too it, as much as you or anyone else believes that I won't man up and go toe to toe with you, history proves that when the situation arises, that when I need too, I step up to the place and take what is mine and I'm telling you right here, right now. That I will do so again. [Nod.] JFM: This is never about respect for me, it's not about being appreciated or held up in hierarchy by my peers, I think you all have me confused with someone who cares. What this is about is Johnny F'n Malibu getting his way. About the Five Star Phenom doing what's right for him, not for NEXT, not for NEO I, not for ANYONE but me. Do you kids really think I'm walking around and bragging about bettering Eric Dane a few weeks ago? [Pause.] JFM: Well ok, that's a bad example. But what I'm trying to get at is this. I fight for one man and one man only and you all know which letters they are. I'm not the boyscout trying to save the day and bring NEXT to an entirely new level, guys like Elvis Sunday can have that acclaim. If NEXT dies tomorrow, Johnny F'n Malibu will survive. Johnny F'n Malibu will move on. And as much as I like talking in third person, it seems to be the only way to get it through your thick skulls that this place is fuelled by me and me alone. Tonight I will cement that fact once more and when the Messiah tries to go all supernova on me and hit me with everything he's got or try to take me to the extreeeeeeeeme... He better realize that tonight I will go out of my way to make sure that I play devil to his advocate. That if he wants to send me to hell? [A sheepish laugh.] JFM: That I'll make sure he burns there with me. [Smile.] JFM: Because I'm Johnny F'n Malibu. [Wink.] JFM: That's who. [Wave.] [Black and then... ...Wow, this place is getting busy! The Rave is packed, more packed then usual... though not really packed by the Rave standards. A good two hundred fans are about in the venue, sitting around ringside. Several details are almost instantly noticeable. One: it's an adult crowd. No children, no families, which makes the number seem even higher then usual. Two, a group of half a dozen guys or ten guys sits up in the balcony, all dressed in gaudy Hawaiian shirts. A bunch of other guys sit in another front row. One is slackjawed and thinks he's hot, another Canadian and balding. One guy is really drunk and wearing an old WWO Johnny Detson shirt. Weird. The ring is sitting in the middle of the main area, new paint job making it look all spiffy and clean and shiny. Worn metal guard railings surround it with chairs in rows behind them. Merchandise and adult beverages seem to be selling quite briskly, both with line ups of over eager, testosterone filled, Internet nerd wrestling fans. Along the railings are a few sponsors' banners: On The Border Gentlemen's Club, WHQG The Hog 102.9FM, La Perla Mexican Restaurant. An entrance curtain hangs at the back of the stage area, a meagre NEXT sign sitting right above it with a NEO International Presents "Dawn of a New Age" banner hanging on the balcony. A few speakers, the venue's lighting system... yeah. It's not big, but it's something! To finish it all off is one Scott Rossman standing in the ring. Our fantastic play by play color commentator has a microphone!] SR: Helllllllllllloooooooo lady and gentlemen! [POP! Of course just as many fans mock him as cheer.] SR: Normally I would say let's just get this show on the road and forget the talking but unfortunately... [Here comes the smattering of boos already!] SR: Unfortunately I have some very bad news. Because of the wild brawl involving Tobias Chapel Smith [BOO!] and new Northeastern Jisatsu Champion, Matt Corwin [POP!] and because of the mild injuries sustained by several security guards and fans, the Rave has decided that it will no longer allow any sort of hardcore or no DQ match on it's premises... [He goes to keep talking only to be drowned, DROWNED out by boos! He holds a hand up, asking the adult, boisterous crowd to quiet.] SR: As you can tell they also instituted another rule, making all shows adult only. [DRUNK OR SOON TO BE POP!] SR: This means that the match between Justin Harper and Hantu Penyardin tonight will be under normal falls rules. What this means for the Jisatsu championship is as yet undecided but believe you me when I say that it WILL be defended by Matt Corwin at NEO International's giant mega event "Dawn of a New Age"! [SUPPORT!] SR: However, folks, don't think we don't have a GREAT show ahead! We have a huge main event, perhaps the biggest in NEXT history, perhaps the biggest in NEO International history as Messiah goes for gold, taking on the Wisconsin State Champion, Johnny... F'N... Malibu! [The crowd pops LOUD for both men, cheering and booing. The crowd in the Hawaiian shirts is particularly rambunctious, holding up plastic cup drinks in celebration and cheers.] SR: We also have Hantu Penyardin in action, the Malayan Vampire taking on no easy task in one of the NEO I World Title Tournament competitors, Justin Harper! [POP for both men, more for Harper and in support of him during the tourney.] SR: And right away we have a three way dance between some of the best young talent in the business. We will see Steve Greedy [BOO!] take on both Tyler Lee and Brian Fisher! Remember, this isn't just a three way dance, this is the very first three way dance in NEXT history. A bar is about to be set, kids! [He let's the crowd mull and simmer.] SR: Oh yeah, one more thing. At this time I would like to bring out the newest member of the NEXT roster. A man who comes in with no small acclaim. He is a former RCW J-Crown Champion, a former NEO Pro Junior Heavyweight Champion, he is one of the best damned wrestlers to never get a chance, and believe you me, he will get a chance. We've shattered the glass ceiling in this place. We've thrown politics into the fire and torched that damn crap... [POP!] SR: Hell, screw it! Let's bring him out. Lady, gents... ...ALEX RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPLEY! ["Outshined" by Soundgarden hits the speakers and the crowd reacts loudly in turn. Alex Ripley steps out from the curtains slowly, putting his right hand against his forehead and peering out from side to side, a smug smile resting on his face. He's dressed very casual in a white shirt and blue jeans, big steel-toe black boots finishing it off. Feature's wise, well, he looks different. Gone is the wavy brown hair and replacing it is a short buzz cut. Gone also is the baby smooth skin on the lower half of his face, brown grizzle rests in its place. He takes his time walking down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans in a very personable manner, even taking time to stop and say a few words to some. When he reaches the ring, he pulls himself up by way of the middle rope, pushing with his knee off the apron and stepping through the ropes. Looking out at the fans standing and clapping across the venue, Ripley smiles and waves out to them. Scott Rossman walks across the ring to greet Ripley with a handshake, handing him the microphone shortly after. He walks across to the center of the ring, taking in the crowds response for a few moments longer before bringing the microphone to his lips.] AR: I've got to tell ya... It feels damn good to be back in a wrestling ring! [Pop!] AR: It's been awhile for sure. [Ripley nods his head to the crowd continued applause (those damn indy crowds) waiting for it to completely die down.] AR: Now I'm not going to go on forever here, but before I say anything more... I have a few things to get off my chest. I've been gone from this business for near a year now after I quit a well known and now dead promotion based out of St. Louis. [The crowd lets out an "uh oh" like response, followed by a plethora of smarky comments.] AR: You all know what promotion I'm talking about, it's the one that I made my fame in, if you can call it that. It's the one where I built my reputation as the best damn junior heavyweight in the world. It's the one where I was known as the one with the "mean streak", the man that takes people out no matter what the cost. And it's also the promotion that stole my soul and broke my spirits. It's the promotion that broke Alex Ripley. [He halts and looks out at the crowd before continuing.] AR: The sad thing... I'm just one of many that left that promotion pissed off, angered, and completely resolute in pure unadulterated _hate_ for this business. [He shakes his head.] AR: Showing up to work every day for that hell hole was the drizzling shits. I mean, I take pride in what I do. I like going in that ring, sizing up my opponent, and dissecting him. But I stopped caring after a while to tell you the truth. I knew that behind the scenes, my balls were being cut off each time I stepped in that ring. The guys that had the real pull, the real power in that fed, made sure that a guy like me, a guy that didn't kiss their ass, had no shot of moving up the card. Because in that place you had to have a friend in high places to move on up. And I wasn't prepared to sacrifice my pride to become Luke Kinsey's bitch. That might be fine for a guy like Colby Greene, but I have too much self respect for that. ["Ohhhhhh!"] AR: And it wouldn't surprise me one bit if Kinsey and his buddies made every decision in that place from late 2004 on. I mean, I didn't see Clinton Fletcher's face for the last year I was there. He was a fucking ghost. And if he was still there... if he was still the final say behind the scenes... Then he had no balls... _what so ever_. And it's no wonder to me that promotion collapsed in one big fuckin' hurry. [Pop!] AR: I'm sorry guys, but this has been kept inside me for a long time. My wrestling should have done the talking. And when it was clear that, that didn't matter in the scheme of things, well that's when I lost my heart for this business. And after months of hoping things would change... I quit. To save my own soul... to save my sanity... I left that hell hole. [He shakes his head.] AR: And I vowed that I was done with this business. [He smirks.] AR: But now... as you can tell... I'm back. [The crowd pops!] AR: The itch came back to me a month or so ago... and after a phone call from NEXT management... well... Fuck it, why not? Why not join a promotion that is at the grassroots for the future of this sport? Why not join a promotion where everyone is hungry and everyone has a chance? Couple of novel concepts, I know. But really I'm more excited right now in preparing to wrestle in front of two to three hundred fans, than I was the last time I wrestled in front of twenty thousand. In fact, after standing in this ring for so long, I feel like wrestling tonight as a matter of fact! [Pop!] AR: But... NEXT management has told me that isn't possible because they would rather promote it for the upcoming show. [Boo! Ripley laughs.] AR: Calm down.. it will definitely be worth the wait. And besides, the lineup you have tonight isn't looking that shabby itself. I might even stop by and catch a match or two with Scott.. [He turns to look at Scott Rossman who laughs and responds with a "Sure!". Ripley nods.] AR: Fantastic. [The crowd applauds and Ripley turns to look back at the aisle way and the curtains at the end.] AR: So I'll end this quickly so you guys can see some of the wrestling you paid your hard money for.. [He points out at the crowd.] AR: To all you fans... [Ripley turns and directs his finger towards the curtains.] AR: And to everyone in the back... [He smirks.] AR: Alex Ripley _is_ back. [He turns back to Rossman and the crowd.] AR: Let's have some fun. [The crowd pops as Ripley hands the microphone back to Rossman, turning and acknowledging the fans with a wave as he turns to leave the ring.] SR: Well I guess that means... on with the show! [And Scott leaves with Alex Ripley, following him to the ringside commentary table. The ring announcer takes his place, checking his cue cards.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the Rave! We'd like to thank our sponsors but hey, they got their banners right there! Now... as Scott said... on with the show suckas! [Wh... what the hell?! When did he get a personality?!] RA: Our first match of the evening is... A THREE... WAY... DANCE! [The lights dim.] # If you're havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son # I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one [As the guitar riff hits, a white strobe lights up at the entryway -- continuing to light up every time the guitar comes in the song. In the Rave Hall itself, blue hall lights illuminate the area on every alternate bass kick.] [As the guitar riff hits, and the strobe lights up the entrance, Tyler Lee steps out. His zipped-up black track jacket has a blue stripe (with white borders) running across his chest; "Heatwave Wrestling Dojo" is inscribed in small white text above the stripe on the left side of the zipper. The jacket runs down his torso to hang over the edge of his blue thigh- length trunks. The trunks have a thick black stripe running down each hip, bordered in white tubing.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen... Hailing from Miami, Florida... Standing at 6'5" and weighing in tonight at 250 lbs... Here is... TYLER LEEEEEEEEE! [Looking from one side to the other, out over the crowd, he gives a shake of his head to get his damp shaggy black hair out of his eyes -- which are covered by a pair of Aviators with metallic blue frames and silver-colored mirrored lenses. With a smirk etched on his face, he reaches up to gently rub the stubble on his face. Slowly, he starts making his way to the ring, pulling away from anyone who tries to reach out and pat him on the back or give him a five.] [He gives a sidelong glance at the ring, turning right and continuing around the ring. He stops momentarily to jaw with a fan, making fun of him and yelling other derogatory things that heels yell. After a sneer, and rearing his hand back like he's going to backhand the fan, he just sneers and turns away, hopping up onto the ring apron. Immediately, he's in after climbing through the ropes.] [In the middle of the ring, he pulls the sunglasses from his face, proceeding to turn around in place and glaring at the audience. He stops, walking forward -- halfway between corners -- and steps up onto the ropes, holding on to the top rope with his right hand and raising the left fist into the air. He yells at the crowd some more, then hops down before turning around and stretching on the ropes. Lee heads to his corner, placing his shades under the bottom turnbuckle and then unzipping his jacket. After removing it, he places it under the turnbuckle with his Aviators, before turning his attention back to the ring and waiting.] RA: And his opponent...from Jacksonville, Florida... weighing in tonight at 252lbs and standing 6'5" tall, he is... ...BRIAN FIIIIIISHER!! [Nine Inch Nails’ "Reptile" hits and the crowd is on their feet, anticipating the NEXT debut of Brian Fisher. The curtains part and out walks Fisher. He looks focused. His attire tonight: blue trunks that go down to his mid-thigh with a small ‘BF’ in white on the middle of the elastic waistline. Fisher turns around in the middle of the aisle and points to his ass. The camera picks up more white writing on his trunks that reads, "NEXT, Indeed." Fisher slides into the ring and poses on the turnbuckle to a mild crowd reaction. Never one for the mild crowd reaction, he flips the crowd off to a chorus of boos.] RA: And their opponent! ["Instigator" by D12 faintly begins to play.] RA: From Little Rock, Arkansas, weighing in at 220lbs, this is... "THE RICH ONE" STEVE GREEEEEEEEEEEEDY! [The volume, and tempo of the song picks up, as the normally well dressed, but tonight very casually dressed "Rich One" Steve Greedy parts the curtains, and looks out over the buzzed crowd. Greedy shakes his head at the stage area, before starting his walk, stopping mid aisle. With all the boo's being heard, he definitely has their attention. "I want a scotch after my match boys, and a lil fun with the blonde setting at the end" Greedy hollers, as the boo's get louder, along with a few gestures being made cause of the words just said. Greedy sighs before rolling into the ring, as his music cuts out on que.] SR: Alright folks, we are ready to go! We have to thank Alex Ripley for being here. It should be fun to have someone calling the match with me. It gets lonely down here. AR: Glad to be here. And hopefully this will be one exciting three way dance. I'd hate to have wasted my time travelling all the way out to Wisconsin just to be bored, Scott. "DING! DING! DING!" SR: And the very first three way dance in NEXT history is officially under way! [The three competitors begin to move slowly about, glancing at each of their opponents, wary to make the first move. The crowd begins to chant something that catches their attention.] "THREE WAY DANCE! THREE WAY DANCE!" "THREE WAY DANCE! THREE WAY DANCE!" "THREE WAY DANCE! THREE WAY DANCE!" [Brian Fisher turns to look out at the crowd and Steve Greedy sees this as an opportunity, charging across the ring and striking with double forearm to the face.] SR: Fisher pays for looking out at the crowd right there, and is knocked back against the ropes. "THWAAAAAAAP!" "THWHAAAAAAAP!" SR: And two _hard_ kicks to the ribs and stomach of Fisher. AR: But he can't take his attention away from Lee! [Greedy decides to take Ripley's advice, turning around...] SR: Forearm smash to the face! Tyler Lee met him as he turned around... and another forearm to follow! [Tyler Lee pushes Greedy back against the ropes and whips him across.] SR: Greedy shot across, and coming back... [And Lee steps to the side, catching Greedy right in the temple with a standing roundhouse kick. Pop!] AR: Very nice. For being 6'5", Tyler Lee sure has some nice flexibility to be able to pull that off. SR: Lee brings Greedy back up, and places him in a standing headscissors. [Tyler reaches down around Greedy's waist but is struck from behind with a hard forearm to the back courtesy of Brian Fisher.] SR: Tyler breaks it up, and hooks in a rear waistlock... Fisher with a standing switch. [As his opponents are jockeying for position, Greedy gets to his feet and moves in at the vulnerable Tyler Lee... who defends himself well, leaping up and kicking Greedy square in the chest with both feet.] SR: Greedy sent flying back to the mat! [Less than a second later, Tyler reaches back and drops to his knees, snapmaring Fisher down to the canvas.] AR: Fantastic counter. That was a stiff snapmare in the sense that there was no momentum on it. He just yanked down on the neck and powered him over. [Back on his feet, Greedy rushes back into action shoving Tyler against the far ropes and whipping him across... reversal.] SR: Greedy sent across now... and over the ropes! Fisher pulled them down from the corner and sends Steve Greedy to the outside. [Fisher gets up to his feet and meets Tyler in the center of the ring, getting him in the stomach with a hard boot.] SR: Fisher with a boot to the stomach of Tyler.. "WHAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAP!" "WHAAAAAAAP!" [And he nails Tyler with four chops in succession, the crowd chanting out "Whooooooo!" with each of them.] SR: Chops galore! Fisher goes to a side headlock... [And suddenly the tables are turned as Tyler lifts Fisher up, and drops him down across his knee. POP!] SR: Back suplex into a backbreaker! What a move! [Fisher is flung across the ring, clutching his back as he ends up laid out on his stomach. Tyler motions with his hands for Fisher to "C'mon!", urging him to get back up, but he doesn't see the body flying from his left side...] SR: GREEDY! [But at the last moment he turns, stepping to the side and swatting Greedy down, shutting down his springboard dropkick attempt.] AR: Great awareness. And Steve Greedy really blew it right there. It wasn't the right point in the match to go for a high risk manoeuvre, and the risk was probably greater than the potential reward. SR: Tyler grabs Greedy, yanking him back up... oh no! "THUUUUUUUUD!" SR: BACKDROP DRIVAAAAAH!! [Greedy's neck snaps against the mat as he's rolled over to his stomach. Tyler pushes him over for the pin.] SR: Cover! ONE!! TWO!! [But Fisher dives over, breaking up the count with a double axehandle smash.] SR: Broken up by Fisher! [Fisher quickly pulls Tyler up to his feet and _cracks_ him with a forearm smash to the face, sending Lee staggering back to the corner.] SR: Tyler Lee falling back to the turnbuckle. Fisher moving in and catching his opponent with a boot to the stomach... "WHAAAAAAAAAAP!" SR: And follows it up with a hard knife-edge chop to the chest! [Bending down, Fisher lifts Tyler up to seat him on the top turnbuckle. He steps up to the second turnbuckle.] "SLAAAAAAAAAP!" SR: _Hard_ slap to the face! Fisher was caught by Tyler and now falls back to his feet on the canvas. [And as he turns around he's met by a spinning heel kick to the face, courtesy of the rich one.] SR: And a spinning heel kick from Greedy, who has returned to this matchup after just being demolished with that backdrop driver. AR: He's fighting through the pain because I'm telling you, it never feels good to have all your weight come down with that kind of force, right on your neck. [Greedy now decides to move in on the perched Tyler...] SR: Greedy coming in... seated short kick to the face! Tyler stopped and he hooks him up in a front face lock... [BIG POP!] SR: TORNADO DDT! AR: Perfectly executed! [Tyler quickly gets back to his feet and sees a rising Fisher a few feet away from him.] SR: Fisher getting to his feet.. AR: And he's taken back down with a yakuza kick! Tyler is starting to catch some momentum here, and momentum _is_ everything in a three way dance, Scott. [Greedy stumbles back up to his feet, falling into the ropes, trying to regain his composure. Tyler won't allow this however and he runs at the smaller man, swinging his arm out. POP!] SR: Clothesline to Greedy! And he's up... and over to the outside! [Tyler Lee yells out a few curses at Greedy on the outside, taking his attention away just enough to get caught with a Fisher rollup.] ONE!!! TWO!!! SR: Kickout! Lee almost got caught there unaware! Both men getting back to their feet... [And Fisher once again is a step ahead, leaping up and behind Lee, hooking both his arms, and taking him over...] AR: And a crucifix rollup! SR: The count! ONE!! TWO!! [And Fisher kicks out again. Both men get right back up to their feet and Tyler hooks Fisher up, dropping down for an inside cradle... but Fisher won't go down, shoving Tyler to the mat and... HEEL POP!] SR: Stomp the groin! Oh my! AR: And that's not a good feeling right there. Let's hope there's no permanent damage. [Tyler holds his bits and pieces as he rolls around on the mat in agony.] SR: I feel for the man, Alex. That's just not something that any man should have to go throu-.. Fisher on the move now.. standing over the kneeling Tyler Lee, hooking his right arm and right leg... rolling forward... AR: Oklahoma roll! Now that just brings a tear to my eye... you just don't see that anymore, Scott. [The ref dives for the cover as Lee's shoulders hit the mat.] SR: You sure don't, Alex... and the count! ONE!! [But Fisher doesn't let the ref continue, opting to both himself and Lee over again... and again... and again... circling the entire ring. IMPRESSED POP!] AR: This is wrestling baby! I love it! SR: Oklahoma roll across the entire ring.. amazing! [In the corner of the camera shot, Steve Greedy is seen pulling his way up to the apron, shaking the cobwebs out of his head and standing up.] SR: Steve Greedy is up on the apron... what's he going to do? [With his two opponents rolling around the ring like their sweethearts, Greedy grabs the top rope and slings himself up... he springboards off...] SR: GREEDY!!! [And soars through the air, coming down... and _catching_ Fisher right in the face with a springboard dropkick, knocking him off of Lee and subsequently unhooking them. BIG POP!] SR: SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK BREAKS IT UP!! [Greedy, with excitement in his eyes, scrambles to cover Fisher.] SR: And he's go the cover! ONE!! TWO!! THR.. SR: NO! AR: Very close right there. [Steve Greedy storms up to his feet and pushes face to face with the referee, holding up three fingers and yelling up a storm. The ref turns to look and walk away, saving his face the trouble of having anymore spit land on it.] AR: He's really working the ref right there, and hey, sometimes you got to do that. SR: That was definitely not a three count however, Alex. [Greedy lets out one last yell of anger, turning away from the referee and pulling Fisher up to his feet.] SR: Greedy has Fisher back up, pulling him towards the center of the ring... he runs to the ropes! [And Greedy leaps up, landing on the middle ropes and springboarding back with a beautiful moonsault bodyblock...] SR: He's caught! Fisher has him! [Holding Greedy in a compromising position, Fisher suddenly leaps up, spinning around in a 180...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!" [HOLY SHIT POP!] SR: GRAVEDIGGER!! Spinning tombstone piledriver connects, spiking Greedy's head down to the canvas! AR: Wow! SR: And he covers! This could be it for Greedy! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! SR: And he got him! [Fisher clenches his right fist and nods his head in a manner that shows he is pumped up.] RA: Steve Greedy has just been eliminated! [The victor of the pinfall quickly turns to move back at his other opponent, but stops himself as he sees that Tyler Lee is on his knees now and well aware.] SR: Tyler Lee up to his feet and folks we're down to two! [The two men begin to circle...] "CLAP!" "CLAP!" "CLAP!" "CLAP!" [The fans urging them to really bring it with the timed clap, and... they lock horns.] SR: They tieup... Lee ducks under for the rear waistlock... and a standing switch from Fisher... [Lee throws back an elbow to the face of Fisher, who won't release the hold... but a second one that connects even harder does the trick. Lee reaches back and grabs the arm of Fisher... pop!] SR: Judo shoulder throw! AR: Ipponzei! [Tyler Lee goes after the downed Fisher, but has his legs taken out from under him courtesy of a double leg sweep. Fisher retains hold of the legs and flips over on to Lee's stomach.] SR: Fisher takes him down and flips over for the cover! ONE!! TWO!! AR: And a kickout! [Both men get back up to their feet, with Fisher a step ahead...] SR: Fisher with a _big_ forearm smash to the face! [Lee is knocked back a step... but that just gives him an extra step to burst back with...] SR: And Lee returns the favor with a forearm shot of his own! [Staggered back a step himself, Fisher recovers and retaliates with another forearm smash. Lee immediately fires back with one of his own. The two begin to trade forearms back and forth... back and forth...] SR: And they are going at it here! Blow after blow! This is what NEXT is all about right here! [The crowd begins to applaud as the two beat each other's heads in... and finally someone begins to take the advantage, Lee catching Fisher with a forearm... and following it up again before Fisher can respond with two more, knocking his opponent back towards the ropes.] SR: Tyler Lee has him back against the ropes, and he halts his attack now... pushing him back... and sending him across for the ride... [With Fisher rebounding back, Lee charges forward and bursts out with a yakuza kick...] SR: Yakuza! AR: And Fisher dodges it with a somersault roll to the mat. [Sliding up to his feet, Fisher catches Lee turning around...] SR: BEST... DROPKICK... EVER!! Fisher connecting right to the temple of Tyler Lee! AR: The elevation... the vertical leap... you really have some real fine athletes here in NEXT. [With Lee falling down to the canvas in a hurry, Fisher quickly moves behind him, pulling him up by the back of his tights.] SR: Fisher pulling him back up now... rear waistlock! [And he flings Lee back to the mat with a snapping german suplex, landing in a bridge on his own head while his opponent is folded over, shoulders down on the mat. POP!] SR: BRIDGING GERMAN! THE COUNT! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! SR: NOOOOOO!!! SO CLOSE! [Fisher rolls to a seated position, shaking his head in disbelief.] SR: Fisher is going to have to do just a little more to put this away, Alex. AR: And it looks like he's going for it... SR: Fisher grabbing Lee by the head now, pulling him up... standing headscissors... [Fisher grunts and hefts his man up on his shoulders, but Lee manages to twist all the way through, dropping down to his feet. Tyler then drops to a knee, and in an instant hefting Fisher up in a fireman's carry, throwing him up and forward...] SR: OH MY! GUTBUSTER! Fireman's carry into the gutbuster after reversing out of powerbomb! AR: And now Lee's got his second wind. [Tyler Lee clenches his fists together and yells out, drawing a big mixed response from the crowd. With his fury flowing like a wild river, Lee quickly drags Fisher up to his feet, hooking him in a front face lock.] SR: Lee has him hooked... [And he swings quickly, twisting Fisher up, and dropping the back of his neck down on his shoulder with force. BIG POP!] SR: Lee Special 2000! The spinning neckbreaker with direct neck to shoulder contact. AR: I don't believe I've seen that too many times, if ever. SR: An original move surely... and he's not going for the pin... he's back on his feet and waiting for Fisher to get back up... [Fisher begins to stir, pushing up slowly and onto his knees, lifting one up. Lee sees his opening and charges across the ring, leaping onto the knee...] SR: SHINING WIZAR- [POP!] AR: Not today! SR: Blocked! Fisher brought up both forearms and blocked the knee from connecting! [Lee falls to the side on the mat and Fisher just explodes up to his feet, dragging his opponent up as well.] SR: Fisher has Lee up... and a scoop sla-... no he's got him up in tombstone position... this is it! [Fisher holds up Lee for a few moments, and it proves to be a few moments too long as Lee fights back, throwing his knee repeatedly back, connecting solidly to the head of Fisher.] SR: Lee is fighting... he doesn't want to be spiked down to the canvas, so he's just unloading with as many knees as he can.. AR: And he breaks free! Fisher releases and Lee falls down to the canvas. That was a close one right there. [Scrambling up to his feet, Lee slips behind a dazed Fisher and hooks him up in an inverted face lock... holding... and snaps to the left, spinning and spiralling Fisher's head down to the canvas... HUGE POP!] SR: IDOLIZER!!! HE HIT IT! AR: Absolutely perfect! SR: The inverted spinning neckbreaker snaps Fisher down to the canvas like a rag doll... AR: This just might be over, Scott. What a move! SR: LEE COVERS! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! DING DING DING! RA: YOUR WINNER... ...TYYYYYYYYYLEEEEEEEER LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [The crowd applauds the newcomer heartily, cheering as much for Fisher's performance as the winner's.] SR: What a great performance by all three men, Alex Ripley. You have got to be impressed with the talent we have here. AR: Oh believe me, I cannot wait to get in there and mix it up with guys like this. It's what I do... wrestle. THat's why I am here! [Lee slides out, smiling in victory as his music plays.] SR: Thanks again for coming, Alex! It was great having you sit beside me. AR: It's been a pleasure, Scott. The next time you see me, hopefully it will be with you watching me in that ring. SR: We have a great show still ahead and that includes the Wisconsin State Championship match still to come! [Lee vanishes behind the curtain, Fisher clutching his neck and stumbling along well behind him.] SR: We also have Hantu Penyardin taking on Justin Harper coming up here. It's a showcase match of two of our biggest up and comers here in NEXT. Penyardin has been opening eyes around the world but Harper is no push over. There is a reason he is in the NEO International World Title tournament. He along with... ["Let Them Eat Rock" by The Upper Crust begins to play.] #They say there's people starving,# #Dropping down dead in the streets# #The lazy slobs, they ain't got a job,# #They say they ain't got enough to eat# #Let Them Eat Rock# #Why don't you eat a rock# SR: "Oh God, what does he want now?" [Out from the back comes Johnny Detson lumbering out. It is a struggle because he comes out wearing a huge black parka that makes his arms stick way out from his sides. He also has on a pair of insulated gloves and a wool hat.] SR: "Johnny Detson looks absolutely ridiculous in that outfit, and he is making a mockery week after week of the fine competition here in NEXT!" #They're picking through the garbage# #Behind my favourite restaurant# #They're sickly pale, they're thin as a rail# #I don't know what in the hell they want# #Let Them Eat Rock# #Eat Rock Now# [Detson begins walking slowly to the ring, due to the snow pant he has on restricting his movement. The snow boots he has on doesn't give him much help either.] #I myself have felt a pang of hunger,# #But I know about one thing worse# #And that's the way I feel# #After a twelve course meal# #When I feel like I'm about to burst# #Let Them Eat Rock# [Detson rolls under the bottom rope and then struggles to his feet. He clumsily pulls a mic from his jacket and then smirks at the crowd.] Detson: Looks like someone in this place forgot to pay the heating bill, huh? [Most of the crowd boos Detson as they are getting tired of his antics.] Detson: Well I guess you couldn't expect more from a place that's idea of maintenance is a healthy supply of duct tape around the ring! [Detson wobbles over to a spot and then points down.] Detson: By the way guys, you missed a spot! [Detson smirks at the negative response.] Detson: All you people out there, and by last count that was fourteen, are just jealous. What you should be doing is dropping down to your knees on this soda-stained, sticky floor, and thanking your lucky stars that a person such as myself would ever decide to grace a rundown hell-hole such as this with my presence! [Detson is trying to be dramatic but it’s hard with the oversized clothes he's wearing.] Detson: God knows NEXT hasn't rolled out the welcome wagon. Which brings me to my real problem, this NEO-International Tournament they're running. Here you have the best competitors competing for a World Title. Let me say that again, A WORLD TITLE!! [Detson shakes his head.] Detson: You mean to tell me that there's a bonus to this stinking federation, and Johnny Detson is not a part of it? You put the people from Wisconsin, from Florida, from North Carolina, from Canada, from Japan, and from Arizona. One wait I'm sorry there was never anybody good in Arizona. [Heel pop for that one as Detson just laughs.] Detson: But you put all those other people in the ring against Johnny Detson and they're all just second rate. And now, because you've excluded me, this tournament is just like NEXT; SECOND RATE!! [Detson shakes his head.] Detson: I mean please, here you have Johnny Detson, a million dollar piece in a ten cent organization and you squander the opportunity to put that million dollar piece on the world scale? Who here is better than me? [Detson sticks an awkward thumb out, pointing to the back dressing room.] Detson: Who do you have in the back? Matt Corwin? The United States chair smashing over head champion? (laugh) John F. Malibu, the champion over all of Wisconsin? [Detson laughs again.] Detson: Wow don't go bragging over that one too much there John. Champion over all of Wisconsin is kind of like saying I'm the smartest person out here, not much challenge in that claim. The reason you have that title, is because I don't want it. Because I won't LOWER myself to wrestling in this dump. I don't have a problem with you John, but let's not make an anthill, like being Wisconsin State Champion, into a mountain, like being worth recognition. [Detson smirks again as the crowd gives him heat.] Detson: I could run down every single one of these jack-o's in the back, and how they don't measure up to me. But I won't because that would be boring! [Huge pop from the crowd agreeing.] Detson: And exceptionally easy! No, Johnny Detson is here to provide the entertaining clips to your otherwise boring existence. Just think, this is what you people have to pass off as wrestling then you're all in real trouble! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! [Detson looks highly annoyed at the chant. He even rips off his wool hat.] Detson: Me? You're going to talk to me that way? YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! [Detson rips off his gloves, as his face is visibly getting red.] Detson: I demand that you stop this right now. I am Johnny Detson! I am the saviour of NEXT! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! [Detson rips off the parka and throws it to the crowd floor.] Detson: Fine you jack-o's think you can get to me but you can't! You know, I know, and most importantly yours wives knows, while they're stuck with you and thinking of me, that I am your BETTER!! [The boos Detson receives brings back his smirk.] Detson: I told that to Kinsey and he high tailed it out of here. If this place is so big and bad, where are all the people to shut me up? What are you going to do it fat boy? [Detson points a guy out in the crowd and lowers his mic and he begins mouthing off with the patron in the front row. He stops after a few verbal jabs and then smiles.] Detson: No, I didn't think so; you won't do it just like no one back there will do it. Because I am Johnny Detson, and I am their BETTER!! You show me someone in this place that will step in the ring with me, and I'll show you someone without a brain! [Detson smiles as the boos continue, Detson simply raises his arms asking for more.] Detson: You don't like that? Too bad!! Maybe if this run down dump could find some worthy talent, I might let you people see greatness defined step in this ring and wrestle, ONE TIME! But before that happens... [Detson reaches into his snow pants and pulls out a hundred dollar bill. He simply drops it down to the canvas in front of him.] Detson: Pay the heat you cheap bastards. [One finally heel pop as Detson simply tosses the mic over his back and then rolls out of the ring.] SR: This is ridiculous! How much longer do we have to put up with this guy! I wish someone would come down to the ring and just shut this guy up! [Detson, smiling the whole time, starts jawing with some of the ringside fans before marching up the aisle and heading to the back. The crowd hates him on the entire way.] SR: I bet there isn't a single person who likes him. Not even his mom. [The crowd starts to quiet down a bit, internet nerds espousing who did what better in the previous match when The Beach Boy's "California Dreaming" hits over the PA system.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is scheduled for ONE fall and despite it being announced as a Streetfight before, it isn't. The Rave's rules and all! [BOO!] RA: Introducing first... from Cedar Rapids, California, weighing in at 240lbs... he will represent NEXT in the NEO International World Championship tournament... this is... ...JUSTIN HAAAAARPER! [POP! Justin Harper emerges from the curtain, high fiving his way down to the ring. He hops in, stretching in his corner.] RA: And his opponent... [Then a disruptive blast of percussion and guitar chords blares over the system as this is the introduction to "Holy Mountains" by System of a Down and the introduction of the man, nay, beast, Hantu Penyardin!] "MIXED POP!!" [The crowd reaction is for the man who steps out from behind the curtain. Short but athletically built.. this bronze- skinned warrior sports an opened brown, full-length monk's robe.. no shirt underneath.. only a dark brown Gi for lower torso comfort.. and no shoes. He is certainly bare foot. For this is Hantu Penyardin. To top it off.. Hantu sports a dark red and black "Demon" mask representing a lost Buddhist folk tale monster of years past.] RA: Making his way to the ring.. he hails from Sri Mariamman Temple, Johor Bahru, Malaysia.. and weighing in at one hundred and ninety-one pounds.. here is.. HANTU PENNNNYARDINNNNN!!!!!!!!! [The pony-tail and long-bearded warrior begins his slow, meaningful walk towards the ring.. never turning his head to the crowd beside him.. only looking dead ahead. As he gets to ringside he vaults forward and slide into the ring with brutal agility.. quickly popping up to his feet and ripping the mask off his face!] "ANOTHER MIXED POP!!" [He eyes the crowd, the referee, any and all.. as he puts the mask aside and takes off the robe.. preparing for war on the grandest scale. All he can do now is pounce on the balls of his feet.. awaiting the bell.] SR: This should be a great match between Hantu Penyardin and Justin Harper. Penyardin has made quite the splash since his arrival in NEO-International, first in Florida State Wrestling then jumping ship over to NEXT. Justin Harper has been quite impressive since starting NEXT, vying up a tournament spot for the biggest belt in professional wrestling--The NEO International World Heavyweight Championship. Two contrasting styles and a lot of talent have this being quite the bout. DING DING! [Penyardin and Harper begin circling one another, both awaiting the first move from the other.] SR: Just measuring one another up here, neither of these guys has faced one another before so it's all new to them. [Hantu comes in, trying for a kick but Harper counters with a quick side-step, trying to hit an elbow shot on Penyardin who deftly dodges the blow.] SR: Outstanding quickness from both competitors there as Penyardin tried a bit of his Martial Arts kicks but missed and dodged an elbow shot from Justin that would have surely knocked him down. [They circle again, the crowd waiting for the first strike to connect.] SR: Harper this time dives in for a lariat but Penyardin side-stepped and Justin is stumbling! *"WHAAAAAAPPP!"* SR: OH! Nice kick to the back by Hantu. [The impact of the kick sends Justin into the turnbuckle, leaving him prone to Penyardin.] SR: Hantu is the one charging in now! [Justin turns around just in time, ducking underneath an impressive jumping kick from Penyardin! SR: He missed with that jump-kick and Harper just made him pay with a quick knee to the gut. [Penyardin lets out an "oomph" and doubles over, Harper locking him in a front headscissors.] SR: Justin lifting him up for a powerbomb but Penyardin is trying to throw him over with a hurricanrana! [Hantu's face contorts, trying to take the larger man over, but Justin hangs on and _DRIVES_ him into the mat onto his head/neck with a Thunder Fire Powerbomb, getting the pin.] SR: That was brutal and Harper has the first chance for a win here! "ONE!" "TWKICKOUT!" SR: Not even a two count, Penyardin is one tough character and I think it's going to take near death to put him away. [Harper wastes no time though, picking Hantu up and sending him into the ropes.] SR: Penyardin off the ropes and ducks underneath _ANOTHER_ lariat attempt by Harper. [Hantu stops directly behind Justin and kicks him hard in the right knee, making him kneel to the mat.] SR: Nasty kick by Penyardin and he isn't done yet. *"WHAAAAAAAP!"* *"WHAAAAAAAP!"* *"WHAAAAAAAP!"* *"WHAAAAAAAP!"* *"WHAAAAAAAP!"* [The sickening sound of flesh being bombarded fills the small arena known as the Rave, Hantu kicking Harper in the chest over and over.] SR: Those kicks by Penyardin are lightning fast. Harper is clutching at his chest, which looks like it went through a meat grinder. Forget chops, Penyardin's feet are _DEADLY_. Hantu's going off the ropes now. [He leaps in perfect time, nailing Justin in the face with a front dropkick.] *"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"* SR: He really hit him good with that front dropkick and Harper's lip looks busted open. [Justin holds one hand to his chest, the other to his lip which is indeed dripping a small amount of blood. His eyes are glassed over and he doesn't seem to know where he is.] SR: Penyardin going to the apron now and he's got something else planned. [With amazing agility, Penyardin springboards off the top rope, twists over in the air and hits a beautiful springboard somersault legdrop!] [High spot pop!] SR: Hantu shows little effort when he does those high flying moves and he's hooking the leg! "ONE!" "TWO!" "TKICKOUT!" [Harper pop!] SR: Justin didn't make his way into the tournament by being a push-over, even with those painful succession of kicks and being hit with a somersault legdrop he didn't go down! [Penyardin doesn't seem to care much that Harper kicked out and runs towards the ropes again.] SR: Hantu springing off the second rope with an Asai Moonsault but Harper saw it coming this time and brought his knees up! [The Malayan Vampire is the one clutching at his torso this time, holding his ribs as Harper gets to his feet.] SR: Penyardin is holding at his ribs but he isn't going to let that stop him, he's using one hand to pull himself up. [Harper shakes out the proverbial cobwebs as Hantu gets up through assistance.] SR: Hantu turning around and Harper showing off his own kicks with a nice superkick right to the face of Penyardin! [Clutching at his jaw, the man from Malaysia rises again.] SR: Penyardin just _WON'T_ stay down and Harper sees this. [Looking frustrated, Justin walks over to Penyardin, and _THROWS_ him into the turnbuckle.] SR: Harper showing off his definite power advantage and threw Hantu like a dart hard into the corner. [Penyardin slumps over, breathing heavily as Harper runs in with a knee to the gut.] SR: All the air he had before that moment was just pushed out for him because Harper drove hard into him with that knee. [Hantu stumbles out from the corner, right into the hands of Justin.] SR: Harper lifts him up high in the air and puts him down hard with a Spinebuster! [The California native gets to his feet quickly, grabbing Penyardin by the feet and turning him over, sitting down with a Boston Crab.] SR: Justin's going to focus on taking away Hantu's legs away so he can't use those kicks or spring up to the top ropes so quickly and maybe he can even slow this match down a bit to his pace. [Harper wrenches back, lifting it up to an elevated position, bringing the focus onto Penyardin's head/neck.] SR: Now he's got it elevated, that's got to be painful! [The referee is on the job, asking Penyardin if he quits but the Malayan Vampire just shakes his head.] SR: Hantu not ready to give up and it may be a while before he is. [Penyardin puts his hands to the ground, trying to bring himself up. In the process however he puts even more pressure on the hold, the pain showing in his face he somehow tucks under and brings his legs around at the same time, causing Harper to fall backwards and release the hold. Innovation pop!] SR: What a hellacious reversal by Penyardin but the hold took it's toll! [Hantu holds his neck and tries to relieve the pain. Justin is getting to his feet at about the same time and looks pissed off that his hold was reversed.] SR: Harper coming over to Penyardin and decks him hard with a right hand! [The Malayan Vampire falls backwards in surprise, Justin following in and stomping away at his stomach.] SR: Justin showing a little bit of viciousness here as he's stomping the hell out of Penyardin. [The crowd pops for the aggression before Harper lifts Hantu up again.] SR: Front face lock by Harper and he lifts him up and over with a swift Vertical Suplex, and floats over for good measure! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THKICKOUT!" [Match continues pop!] SR: Both men up from the nearfall and Hantu is the one to take advantage surprisingly with a kick to the midsection. [Harper doubles over and Penyardin double-underhooks his arms.] SR: Penyardin drives him into the mat with a double-arm DDT! [Justin's head bounces off the mat and he rolls over, Hantu heads to the outside to keep the ball rolling.] SR: Penyardin wasting no time by going to the outside but he's slowly going up the turnbuckle and clutching at his back as he does. Hantu's got to still be feeling the pressure from that elevated Boston Crab earlier. [The fans pop for oncoming high-flying move as Penyardin gets to the top. He raises his hands skyward before jumping.] SR: HANTU FLIPPING OVER IN THE AIR AND HITS A 450 SPLASH RIGHT ONTO THE STERNUM OF HARPER! [Executed perfectly, Penyardin hooks the leg.] SR: He may have it here! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" SR: Harper still isn't going to give up! This man wants to have some momentum going into the tournament! [Another pop from the crowd and Hantu rises to his feet, he grimaces in pain, now with his back and chest hurting.] SR: Penyardin with a quick kneedrop right to the head of Justin. He's lifting Harper to his feet again. [Hantu is the one to be interrupted this time as Justin quickly hooks his arm over and throws him _ACROSS_ the ring with a T-Bone Suplex.] SR: The power of Justin Harper is amazing for a guy his size! He threw Penyardin halfway across the ring with that T- Bone. [Hantu slowly rises to his feet as Harper comes charging.] SR: A surprise for Penyardin and Justin FINALLY nails him with a lariat! Jesus Christ what impact! [The crowd pops with the "decleater" if you will from Harper who sent Penyardin flipping inside-out from the lariat.] SR: Harper calls that the Wipeout in honor of his ex tag-team partner Terry Jacob! Justin is the one with a pin now. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Booooooo.] SR: Harper thought for sure he had him there but Penyardin is showing that he wants this match just as much as Justin does. [Without arguing the count, Justin picks Hantu up again with ease.] SR: Justin with a go-behind on Penyardin and locks him in the pumphandle position. He lifts him up AND-- --SLAMS HIM DOWN WITH A BACKBREAKER! [Harper holds on though, showing tremendous strength by lifting Hantu up and over his shoulder.] SR: More impressive strength from Justin as he hits that Pumphandle Backbreaker then lifts him _BACK_ up and over his shoulder. [Harper runs across the ring and drives Penyardin into the mat with a running powerslam. He hooks the leg again.] SR: Running powerslam and this has _GOT_ to be it. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE?" "NO! KICKOUT!" SR: Hantu kicked out _AGAIN_! Justin Harper's got to be asking himself what he has to do to put this man away. [Penyardin grabs at the ropes, trying to pull himself up slowly.] SR: He's trying to get himself up to his feet but he's taken a lot of punishment here at the hands of Justin Harper. Harper on the other hand is in total control of this match and looks to continue the assault. [Harper clutches at Hantu's head, bringing him down and begins driving his knee into Penyardin's skull over and over!] SR: Sickening knees to the head by Justin and he's showing no mercy. Then again, they don't call Hantu The Malayan Vampire because he's a nice guy. [Penyardin does indeed slump to the ground, and Harper lets up on the strikes, stepping backwards.] SR: Justin setting him up for something here. [Harper runs at Hantu, springing off his knee and trying to hit him in the side of the head with a knee, completing the Shining Wizard but Penyardin hits him in the nuts in reversal! Heel pop!] SR: Penyardin showing survival of the fittest here with that shot to the groin! [Justin yells out in pain and the referee warns Hantu for using illegal shots.] SR: Hantu now back in control, the tide of the match turning over just over one move. That's what's great about wrestling, at any point in time everything can change. [Penyardin shakes loose the cobwebs from the repeated knees to the head and goes over to Harper, locking him in a front face lock.] SR: Penyardin looking for his own suplex attempt and is hooking the left leg of Harper. We may have a Fisherman Suplex or Fisherman Buster on the way! [Hantu tries to lift him up but his back gives out on him, Penyardin grimaces in pain and let's go of Harper's leg, instead wrapping his hand under and around Justin's neck for a blatant choke hole. Heel pop!] SR: Since he couldn't get him over it looks like Hantu is settling for choking the life out of Harper! [The referee begins his five count while Penyardin really digs in the move, taking Harper to the ground.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" SR: Penyardin finally breaks the hold and he came extremely close to picking up a disqualification there. [The referee gives Hantu the once over and gives him a final warning to which Penyardin pays little attention.] SR: Harper's clutching at his throat, trying to catch his breath but Hantu is like a shark to blood and is kicking him in the head once again. [Almost comically, Justin's head snaps side to side with the force of each kick. Satisfied with the assault Penyardin focuses on picking up Harper again.] SR: Penyardin with more kicks to the head of Harper and I think Justin may have a headache in the morning after that one. [Getting Harper to his feet, Penyardin bounces off the ropes.] SR: Hantu grabs Harper for a bulldog attempt but Justin stops him in his tracks and won't let him get it done! [Harper puts the proverbial foot down, stopping the bulldog quickly. With surprising quickness he hooks Hantu and falls down with an STO.] SR: Justin showing off his Martial Arts skills with an STO. Another pin. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Heel pop!] SR: The crowd is solidly behind Harper but Penyardin just won't go away. [Harper picks Hantu up once again and locks him in a rear waistlock.] SR: Justin may try a German Suplex here! HE'S LIFTING-- --THROWING HANTU OVER WITH A RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!!! --BUT PENYARDIN FLIPPED AND LANDED ON HIS FEET! [Another heel pop while Justin is too late to turn around, Penyardin rushing in.] SR: HANTU IS THE ONE TO JUMP NOW AND HITS HIM WITH A JUMPING KNEE STRIKE TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! MALAYAN VAMPIRE STRIKE! THAT PUT ELVIS SUNDAY AWAY LAST WEEK! [With Scott screaming away the crowd's distaste becomes ever more apparent. Instead of pinning Harper though, Hantu goes to the outside and begins climbing the turnbuckle once more.] SR: Penyardin going up top again. What does he have planned? [Completing the ascend, Hantu bows his head down to Harper before leaping.] SR: HE JUMPS...... [His body turning inside out.] CROWD: "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" SR: STARDUST PRESS! THE STARDUST PRESS! HOOK OF THE LEG! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE?" DING DING DING! SR: Penyardin did it! He fought back from Harper's offence and finishes Justin off, this goes down as an upset in my eyes folks! [The fans are none too happy, raining boos down upon Penyardin.] RA: YOUR WINNER... ..HAAAAAANTU PENYARRRDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! [Penyardin stands over Harper, no expression at all, before turns and leaping through the ropes and to the floor. Barefooted, he makes his way up the entrance ramp, not even sparing a glance backwards.] SR: Talk about a huge, huge win for Hantu Penyardin! He defeated one of the men competing for the NEO International World Title! If Harper wins that sixteen man tournament I'd say we got our first challenger! ["Let Them Eat Rock" by The Upper Crust begins to play.] SR: OH WHAT THE HELL?! NOT AGAIN! [HAAAAAAATE!] SR: I officially hate my job more then ever. #They say there's people starving,# #Dropping down dead in the streets# #The lazy slobs, they ain't got a job,# #They say they ain't got enough to eat# #Let Them Eat Rock# #Why don't you eat a rock# [Out from the back wearing a black tracksuit comes Johnny Detson to an immediate heel pop following his actions earlier this show. He comes out carrying a piece of paper in one hand and a bottle of water in other.] SR: Isn't there a rule against multiple segments?! We don't want to hear him again. No one does. #They're picking through the garbage# #Behind my favourite restaurant# #They're sickly pale, they're thin as a rail# #I don't know what in the hell they want# #Let Them Eat Rock# #Eat Rock Now# [Detson strikes a pose as if he’s waiting for a pyro explosion that he knows isn't coming. He looks disgusted heading to the ring.] #I myself have felt a pang of hunger,# #But I know about one thing worse# #And that's the way I feel# #After a twelve course meal# #When I feel like I'm about to burst# #Let Them Eat Rock# [Detson slides into the ring with a scowl across his face as he pulls out a mic and then turns to the crowd.] Detson: You know what the problem with this place is? [Half the crowd shouts "YOU!", some shouting "YOU COMING OUT AGAIN?" but Detson ignores them.] Detson: Marketing. That's the problem. I mean standing right here is a bona fide star of the business and they haven't properly marketed this stuff yet. [Detson holds up the piece of paper in his hand.] Detson: I brought proof for you people, not that all ten of you aren't a bunch of gullible jack-o's, but because I'm an honest guy and I don't want you people to think that I'm a liar. [Detson smirks at the negative response.] Detson: I printed this from a NEXT website, and it goes on and on about this stupid little thing called WAR!. Now what the hell is WAR!? [Detson holds up his hand.] Detson: No, I don't want you to answer the question! Its rhetorical you morons. I'm going to tell you what WAR! is. WAR! is a complete and utter failure! [The boos reign in a little harder... oddly enough quite a few being against WAR themselves.] Detson: You what to spice this thing up! You want the PR to drool with anticipation. Then cut all this crap out, all these little tidbits and gossip items and across the entire page just write, "JOHNNY DETSON... YOUR SAVIOR HAS ARRIVED!!" [Huge heel pop for that one as Detson just laughs.] Detson: What some two-bit wrestlers from Arizona tanked a fed and now they want their turn at tanking this one. People who wouldn't know an arm bar from a candy bar, whose hardest wrestling move they've ever learned was smacking some jack-o over the head with a chair? [Detson shakes his head.] Detson: "Well I don't think so, this place has people that can actually wrestle... (laughs) ... well one person that can at least! [Detson laughs as again he receives some heat.] Detson: So Lark Fenriz, Timmy Tulip, Chris Hopper, and the Mud Monster can go somewhere and have their little battle because now that NEXT has seen the greatness that is Johnny Detson; they're not going to be worshipping Satan Larky, they're worshipping ME!!! [Detson smiles to the crowd before unzipping his tracksuit.] Detson: Now that, that is out of the way, who wants to see some wrestling? [The crowd pops as Detson takes off his track suit jacket and throws it to the canvas.] Detson: Well too bad!! [Detson laughs as the crowd boos him again, but then he holds up his hand.] Detson: Just wait people, I know you paid good money for these free tickets so I'm going to give you the next best thing! [Detson rips his track pants off to reveal a pair of stunning long gold trunks and a pair of black wrestling boots. He smiles at the crowd...] Detson: Live action shots!!! Just think years from now you can show your grandkid a picture of the greatest wrestler you've ever seen in person. And the stupid little kid will actually think that you actually saw me wrestle in this dump. Now let me just get into character here so I can give you guys a show! [Detson gets a huge amount of heat as his 'getting into character' consists of dumping some water on his head. He smirks and then continues.] Detson: Okay people now picture this, I've just hit a big time move and I'm posing for tens often people in the crowd. [Detson stands in the middle of the ring and strikes a pose to the boos of the crowd.] Detson: Go ahead people don't be shy. Okay let's say now I've just taken everything some jack-o here could throw at me, and I'm desperately trying to regain my strength to mount an offence. I know, its fiction, but I'm trying to give you people some high quality shots. [Detson drops to his knees and begins to crawl for the ropes. Faking weakness he struggles up the ropes to the BORING! chants of the crowd.] Detson: Okay, one last shot. Now people its near the end of the match and your hero is climbing to the top rope to end the match with one of his spectacular moves!! I'll pose up there and you people click away. [Detson makes his way to the corner of the ring and begins to climb up when suddenly he stops. He puts his feet back on the canvas and begins to inspect the turnbuckle. He shakes it and then looks at disgust.] Detson: What is this, some kind of joke? You expect a superstar like me to climb up that unsturdy apparatus? I need something safer than a turnbuckle held together with a rubber band and a thumb tack! That's it, the NEXT cost cutting regime has ruined this for all of you! The entertaining part of the program is now OVER!! [With that Detson slams the microphone to the canvas and slides out of the ring. He grabs a member of the ring crew and begins screaming at him over the unsafe working conditions before storming off to the back. Through the boos we fade... ...until our view is filled with fresh snow, covering the Wisconsin ground as it does much of the year. The wind is blowing ever so slightly and we're outside of The Rave, home to NEXT. Standing against the side of the building is the Messiah. He begins speaking as soon as the camera comes into a close enough distance that he feels he will be heard.] M: Johnny...F'N....Malibu. [A look of pure disgust lays across Messiah's face, he runs his hand through his brown hair, which seems to have grown a little bit since the last time we've seen him. A hint of stubble is laid across his chin and he's wearing an OLD-SCHOOL~! NEO(that's New Era of Old School Wrestling, not NEO-Pro, or NEO-International to all you cool new kids) shirt, blue jean pants and black boots.] M: I'm sure you're feeling real good about yourself right now. You probably think your entire career is ahead of you, so many more title reigns to look forward to and a whole heap of people to make fun of, maybe even throw homosexual references towards. [Messiah grimaces a bit as he shifts, clutching at his back reacting to the cold weather of Wisconsin.] M: Not only that, but you're high atop the mountain and the biggest threat to your title looks to be Eric Dane, who you seem to have grown pretty fond of having rifts with. [Big smile.] M: Little mistakes like that will not only cause your title reign to end just as it begins but maybe even shatter any hopes, dreams, and thoughts that you could _EVER_ have of establishing yourself as a "name" in the wrestling business. Guys like you are a dime a dozen Johnny. You're good-looking, athletic, and can talk a pretty good talk. But in the end? They'll shit on you as quickly as they built you up. [Smile erased.] M: Do you really think anyone cares who you are? Just because your from California and you've hot-shotted your way up an independent federation in _WISCONSIN_ of all places! Your main problem is that you think your a lot bigger than you really are and you're trying to trick everyone else to believe the hype. Well, I'm not the type of guy to believe the hype. This isn't to say that I have anything against NEXT, I enjoy it here actually. But the fact of the matter is that you haven't done _ANYTHING_ to gain any semblance of respect from me or anyone else... [Running his hair through his hand, Messiah rests against the wall, arms folded.] M: Maybe this is all empty talk from me, I doubt you may even see this because your undeserved ego will get in the way of even looking at your opponent...That, Johnny...is going to be the end of you. Because you see, I'm not like Jaiden Andrews. I'm not some nice guy who's going to try and out wrestle you and "teach you a lesson". I'm sure as _HELL_ not Eric Dane. Another disillusioned guy who thinks his "big" name somewhere else and his "fighting spirit" are going to impress everyone into thinking he's nothing more than a white guy who thinks he wrestles like a Jap. [Pause.] M: None of those things could ever describe...me. _I_ am the type of guy who will go outside of any boundary to break you down... _I_ am the type of guy who will smash your face in and won't even think twice about what I've done.... _I_ am your beginning....and end... _I_ am your Messiah.... Open up, Johnny... [Out and to the Rave we return. The ring announcer is in the ring. Screw the frivolities. Let's get right to this.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen... _THIS_ is the main event of the evening! [The first few lines of "Psalm 69" by Ministry begin playing over the Rave's music system.] #Praise Jesus# #Praise Jesus# #Praise Jesus# [Interrupted with a demonic voice...] #Mmmmmmm...GO!# ["I Smell Like Jesus Dead" by the Project Hate plays loudly as out from the back walks the Messiah, a HUGE heel pop coming from the fans. Messiah looks all business, staring directly at the ring as he makes his way down. He's wearing blue jean pants, black boots, and a black NEO shirt. His brown hair is of medium length and stubble covers his chin. Stepping up the apron, he ducks under the middle rope and goes to a neutral corner, awaiting Malibu.] [Lights out mother f[bleep]ers!] # I believe in God... I believe in destiny. # ["J"] ["F'n"] ["M"] # YO! YO! YO! YOOOOOOOOOO! # [THE CHAMP IS HERE!] # I was born to reign Point blank My name to be etched in stone My destiny preordained Tryin to live righteous fightin for life, tis my life that's why I liked on my vices # [Fans flood the airwaves of the Rave as they erupt into a choir of boos and cheers. Some love em’. Most hate em’. But either way, this man is on top of NEXT wrestling.] # Tightnin the vices of truth on the roofless This is rhyme and the crime and their minds is just useless The path of the poison, the genesis of the genisi You and your boyz tryin to decide, what to write but your hand is a sword and the blade has been forged young minds gettin gorged stakes have been altered by lick or by weed and then hate gets exaltered as art falls to greed, choices is made that's the voices is laid on the track, contract, the soldier wage, did you see his new benz, but your like a syringe now proud of your binge. # [Out he comes, the most daunting force the wrestling world will ever know... The wheelin' and dealin', struttin' and sluttin', award winnin' smilin' cocky bastard himself. The lights shine down on Johnny F'n Malibu who stands in the entrance way, arms spread out like the sexy god that he is, the NEXT Wisconsin State Title around his waist. The Irresistible Object has a turquoise robe thrown over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around his athletic frame. Underneath he spots no shirt, a pair of matching wrestling shorts, with knee/shin guards and boots that match as well.] # Got a lot of new friends, got a lot of new ends bought a house up in the hills frontin shouts to the pen givin false accounts of your account's amounts amounts the fans treason stands to reason since your inception laced with deception and bred with false affection it must perish From the terrace I see the fire burnin the streets but I won't shield my eyes to the heat Born to reign # [The honey brown haired glam rock looking wrestler struts to the ring, sporting the infamous Johnny- Shades that some lucky fan will undoubtebly be given momentarily. After narrowing towards the ring he surely enough flicks the shades from his face to a...gorgeous looking woman with beautiful breasts popping out of her not-so-much fitting top. Johnny gives her a little "boob tap" and a wink and shoots towards the ring.] # I was Born to reign # [The music fades out as the two stand in the ring, eye to eye, the ref acting as a partition from the violent soon to come.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for ONE fall and has a sixty minute time limit. These two gentlemen will compete... ...FOR THE WISCONSIN STATE CHAMPIONSHIP! [BIG POP!] RA: Introducing first the challenger, to my right in the blue jeans and black shirt, he stands 6'0" weighs in at 240lbs and hails from Boulder, Colorado. He is a former NEO Heavyweight and Pacific Champion and will compete at Dawn of a New Age as a NEXT representative in the NEO International World Championship tournament. This is... ...THE MEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! [The crowd ERUPTS in boos just because so few people like him, half in cheers because of who he is against. He stare remains on Malibu, Messiah standing completely in place, eyes set ahead.] RA: To my right, his opponent wearing the turquoise tights. He stands in at 6'2" and weighs in tonight at 198lbs... [Malibu poses, showing off his abs.] RA: He hails from Los Angeles, California. A former NEO Pro Trios Champion, a former IWE champion and another representative in the NEO International World Championship tournament. He is _the_ current Wisconsin State Champion... ...JOHHHHHHHHNY F'N! MAAAAALLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! [They don't like him save the gaudy dressed group in the balcony. He pretends to hear none of it, hopping onto a turnbuckle for another pose before hopping down and disrobing himself of the Wisconsin State Championship. The referee holds it aloft, showing it off to the crowd. He shows Messiah once, Malibu one more time and then hands it between the ropes. He signals for the bell to ring when...] # Down south soldier # # Third world soldier # # My vengeance will be swift and terrible # # Many will die. # [Cue: Lamb of God. "A Devil in God's Country"] # I am the distance between two points # # Forgotten. A Void. # # I dig holes brother. # # Well, I've got a bone to pick # [The NEXT faithful in The Rave pop _HARD_ knowing that someone's about to come out here, especially since they know just exactly who it is.] # And a nerve to pluck # [!The!] # A skin to get under # [!Only!] # And a home to wreck. # [!Star!] # I've got ends to meet # # So I've got a job to do. # # Acrimonious and sanctified # # Call me what you will. # [Eric Dane. He saunters out, shooing off Messiah and Malibu's glare of disdain. He wears his trademark Team Danger jersey, smiling the entire way. He doesn't enter the ring. Instead he keeps walking around, mouthing off with Malibu especially. He circles around the ring... ...and then sits at the commentary table?! Looks like we've got a running theme this show! He puts on his headphones, Malibu yelling down at him... ...when Messiah attacks!] DING DING! [The referee rings the bell, Messiah pounding Malibu down against the ropes, slamming forearms into his back. Malibu stumbles off, trying to escape the assault. Messiah stays on him even as Dane and Scotty get headphones going.] SR: Looks like we are about to be joined here by Eric Dane as Messiah takes Johnny Malibu into a corner and... "SMACK!" WHOOOOOOOOO!" ED: That chop sucked. SR: And Eric Dane would know a chop! We saw the war you went to with Ran Jishu and... Malibu turns Messiah around and fires back! [He lays in quick right hands, stunning Messiah... who turns him right back around with a knee to the gut, spinning him into the corner. A quick snapmare puts Malibu down, Messiah slowing the pace down with a chinlock.] ED: This is actually a pretty smart move. Malibu's way too damn fast for that creepy bastard. SR: Not only are you going to face the winner of these two for the Wisconsin State Championship, you could very well face them in the upcoming NEO International World Title tournament. ED: I could. SR: How succinct. ED: What the action, asshole. [Malibu struggles for a bit, finally spinning off a hip and following his head behind Messiah. Switched up, Messiah gets to his feet, patting the pain out of his shoulder. He looks to escape, tries to reach behind the leg and then finally figures out an avenue... ...running around the ring.] ED: He can't be serious. [Messiah circles quickly, pulling Malibu with him. A quick duck... and Malibu is sent through the ropes and to the floor! POP!] SR: A great escape there by Messiah, Eric Dane, showing some smart thinking and... and he's going out with Malibu. This guy is renowned for his brawling. This Messiah we are seeing, this technical wrestling, clean cut Messiah isn't the Messiah we know. ED: We've all seen the tapes. This guy can do some damage and likes the blood. I have NO idea what is up with this lousy schtick. He ain't fooling anyone. [But as soon as Messiah hits the floor the referee is right there, yelling at both him and a recovering Malibu to get back into the ring. He goes as far as to stand between them, refusing to let them fight on the floor because "...you know the rules!"] ED: Oh for fuck's sake. The Rave really set their foot down. This is goddamned gay. Let them fight it out, they're not freakin' ballet dancers, they're fighters. SR: Johnny Malibu sliding in, recovering quickly from that landing he took on the floor. Messiah needs to quit arguing and get back in. ED: He isn't thinking. He has to get in. He has to climb higher ground to get to the enemy. This dude needs to read the Art of War. [The referee, exasperated, rolls in and goes to count Messiah out, Messiah rolling back in and into a flurry of stomps from Johnny Malibu. He holds the ropes, getting further balance as he kicks away, the crowd booing in response to a pause and glance from the Wisconsin State Champion.] ED: Don't worry about me, Johnny. Worry about Messiah and worry about your title. I frankly don't care who has it, Scotty, it's mine one way or another. SR: Johnny Malibu pulls Messiah up and against the ropes. Irish whip... reversed!... [Messiah ducks.] SR: Sunset flip! ONE! TWO! [Barely a two count Messiah kicks out, both men scrambling up.] ED: That's what we call desperation and Malibu goes off the ropes, ducks a clothesline and returns... caught! SR: No... SPINNING HEADSCISSORS BY MALIBU! [Only he is spun all the way around, landing beside Messiah. A back elbow stuns the challenger, Malibu ducking and spinning... ...going the other way with a revolution headscissors! POP for the move!] ED: Damn, I'll have to remember that one. SR: And more specifically how to counter it. ED: Duh. I drop people on their heads and beat them to death. Of course I will see the counter. [On his feet in the middle of the ring, Malibu crotch chops a recovering Messiah. The crowd boos and Messiah is driven by anger into action!] ED: Leap frog by Malibu! [And he ducks down as Messiah comes back off the ropes.] SR: DROPKICK--MESSIAH HOLDS THE ROPES! ED: THAT is being a veteran right there! SR: Malibu charges... [And Messiah pulls down the ropes, Malibu... stopping?!] ED: Or... not. SR: Johnny Malibu saw that coming! Messiah tried to send him over the ropes by pulling it down but the champ caught him and now charges! [Only Messiah instead ducks, dropping and rolling out of the ring, tapping his forehead. The crowd boos him as well! Both might have their own lil cheering sections but let's face it, these two are assholes!] ED: Pay attention to the damn match instead of [UMPH!] THAT! SR: Johnny Malibu with a baseball slide right into his back, sending him against the guard railing! He never saw that coming and... SLINGSHOT! [Right into a hurricanrana, landing neatly on Messiah's shoulders! BIG POP!] SR: What a GREAT move by Johnny Malibu on the floor and look at this! Look at the referee, Eric Dane. He's out there, already warning them about the new rules in place here at the Rave and security is watching. ED: Bunch of picky bastards. They're still at ringside. SR: Rules are rules. ED: Screw that. Let's find a new venue. SR: ERIC! [Rolling his eyes for _everyone_ to see, Malibu rolls Messiah back into the ring, hopping onto the apron. He grabs the ropes with both hands, slingshotting himself in with a senton to Messiah's chest! POP!] ED: This punk has some moves, I'll give him that. SR: And is STILL moving, off the ropes and [THUD!] ROLLING THUNDER! [The crowd can't help but pop again, especially the guys in the gaudy shirts.] ED: How special, he has his own fan club. I guess the "special people" got some free tickets. [Yes, that was said completely mocking.] SR: We are so getting kicked off the air. ED: We are on DVD, I can say whatever I want. FUCK FUCK FUCK CUNT ASSHOLE BITCH FUCK! See? SR: Did you say the 'c' word?! [Meanwhile Malibu goes for the cover!] ONE! TWO! [And Messiah kicks out early in the bout.] SR: Look at this. He's up, he's gloating and bragging like he already won this match, stomping away, reaching down to punch Messiah as he tries to get up. All this talent and he wastes it like this. ED: THAT right there is his problem. He _does_ have talent and wastes every single iota of it bragging and showing off. He's doing the same in the NEO International Title Tournament. I sure as hope it's enough to get him to the finals. I'd like to beat him all over North America. [Messiah keeps getting up as Malibu swats him with quick jabs... ...that is until Messiah finally gets up and gets some balance, UNLOADING with wild swings and kicks!] SR: MESSIAH LETTING LOOSE! [Malibu nearly trips over his own feet as Messiah keeps the punches and knees on, grabbing him and hitting him with a HARD headbutt! OHHH!] ER: DAMN! That one [THUNK!] DAMMMMMNNN! Malibu flew out of the ring from that headbutt! Messiah is on form right now! [And is right back out of the ring, the poor ref sent chasing them. Malibu staggers back under the ropes and catches Messiah with stomps yet again. Messiah stays floored, Malibu running off the ropes...] SR: Another baseball slide dropkick... MESSIAH UP! [And drops an elbow onto the sliding Malibu! BIG POP!] ED: Nice move. No one, well except me, saw that coming. SR: And it was enough to slow Malibu right back down. Messiah in firm control, pulling Malibu up... "SLAAAP!" [OHHHHHHHH!] ED: Listen to this crowd! They're letting Johnny have it! [Yes they are!] YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* [Messiah turns the chanting into a SYMPATHETIC GROAN, sending both feet into the 'lower regions' of the nineteen year old.] ED: And down he goes! SR: The Five Star Phenom is in trouble... BOOTSCRAPE BY MESSIAH! Talk about animalistic! Messiah knows so many ways to inflict pain and is starting to show it-- ED(interrupting): Wait. Five Star Phenom? Who the hell gave him that name? Sure the hell wasn't the guys who voted my match the first NEO match of the month. Five Star Phenom my ass. Hell, I hope he wins so I can chop that dorky nick name right out of him! [Messiah drops, blatantly wrapping his hand around Malibu's throat. The referee warns him, counting up towards five. Messiah stops and counts along with him, all the way to 10 before giving him a "SCREW OFF!" to a loud pop! Several fans jeer the referee, Messiah stomping Malibu down.] SR: Messiah is NOT known for having a good temper and it is showing here as he rams Malibu into the corner. Losing your temper can really have an effect on the match, can't it Eric? ED: For sure. You don't think. It's like you got blinders on and all you see is what is straight ahead. Johnny Malibu isn't some push over. He knows his stuff whether any of us like to admit it or not. SR: He's certainly one of the most exciting wrestlers in the world today. He's proven that time and time again. [A whip across the ring sends Malibu into a corner. Messiah charges... right into a Malib-oot!] SR: He caught Messiah FLUSH! [And in a quick motion leaps over the ropes onto the apron, slingshotting back in and catching Messiah's head on the way!] "THUUUUUUUUUD!" [POP!] SR: SLINGSHOT DDT RIGHT ON TARGET! ED: Cover! ONE! TWO! ED: He never hooked a leg! That is a rookie mistake that Johnny Malibu should NOT be making. He's taking the freak too lightly. [Sitting Messiah up, Malibu takes a step back...] "THWAAAP!" [Shin kick! OHHH!] SR: OUCH! "THWAAAP!" [And another follows!] ED: That has got to hurt. [The crowd is still ooohing the move even as Messiah grits his teeth and starts getting up!] SR: That might have fired Messiah up more then it hurt him! He is getting back up despite that pair of thunderous kicks to the back and... elbow... snapmare... [THWAP!]... AND HITS HIS OWN KICK! [Malibu arches in pain but gets up holding his spine. A quick elbow... and he snap mares Messiah over!] ED: God, why don't they just pull it out and measure?! "THWAAAAP!!" [Messiah takes another kick to a big POP and starts to get up himself, gritting his teeth, shaking... ...taken down with a knee clip from behind!] SR: SMART MOVE! He wasn't going to go kick for kick with Messiah anymore. ED: Damn, I never saw that coming. Smart as hell right there. SR: And he steps up... [Stepping on Messiah's legs, the back of his knees specifically, he reaches down and grabs Messiah's arms, rolling back!] SR: SURFBOARD! [Submission pop!] ED: Messiah is hurting! He has to be. Everyone knows he has a bad back and this move will stretch it and stretch it bad. SR: He's struggling... gets the ropes! [MIXED POP! Malibu relents the hold, dropping Messiah down to the mat. He stretches his back quickly, still selling the kicks. A quick "GAWD, you're so ugly!" to one fan and he's back on Messiah, putting him in a seated surfboard, knee to the back, arms pulled towards each other behind him!] ED: At least he's being consistent. He's keeping on Messiah's back. SR: But Messiah is the bigger and stronger of the two... it's already showing! He is trying to get up, trying to reverse or escape this hold! ED: And he could. He's fighting up. [The crowd continues with the mixed cheers as Messiah pushes his way to his feet. He pushes and pulls, trying to put Malibu into this same predicament. Malibu tries to fight back, tries to keep the hold on, puts all his power against him... ...and instead opts for letting go, switching position!] SR: BACKSLIDE! ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [GASP!] ED: How close was that?! SR: Johnny Malibu up... DROPKICK TO THE FACE! [BOOOOO!] ED: THAT is how you cut off someone. A pair of boots to the goddamn nose! SR: Johnny Malibu, the Five Star Phenom... ED: I will take you out back and fucking kill you. SR: Johnny F'N Malibu has Messiah on the rocks, pulling him up and [THUNK!] WHAT THE?! Headbutt out of nowhere by Messiah! Malibu is stunned! He is stunned... LOW BLOW! [Buuuuut... Malibu catches the foot!] ED: Nope! SR: ENZUIGIRI--MISSES! Malibu ducks! He ducks and... YOUCH! ED: Punch right to the nuts! That right there is going to get him a drop on the head. A real man doesn't go punch another man in the testicles. [Messiah clutches his nether regions in absolute agony. Malibu pulls him up by the hair...] SR: STEP UP ENZUIGIRI! [BOOO... and cheers from his fan section! Messiah doesn't fall, wavering in place, eyes lolling, hands still 'there'. Malibu sighs, running off the ropes... ...right into a dropkick to the knee, sending him head over heels! BOTH DOWN POP!] SR: BOTH DOWN! ED: That right there really shows the difference between these two men. Malibu has to keep hitting and keep hitting and go full speed all the time. Messiah can take someone down with one, smartly placed hit. I am looking forward to killing either one of these two dolts. We'll draw some money, baby. SR: Both men are hurt, exhausted, beaten to high hell but they are both getting up, Eric Dane. They're like you, they just won't stay down. ED: Watch me prove that theory wrong. [Malibu is the first up, launching a haymaker. Messiah wobbles and then swings back.] SR: Punch for punch right in the middle of the ring! Johnny Malibu and Messiah both swinging for the fences and... [And Messiah takes over, letting loose with wild lefts and rights! He simply overwhelms Messiah, reaching and gouging his eyes out! The crowd half cheers and half boos... especially "Club Malibu". They're a loud six or seven guys!] SR: Bodyslam by Messiah and a HARD kneedrop to the head! Kneecap to the skull! ED: And he's picking him back up, Scotty boy, and throws him... nevermind! Whip reversed! SR: Messiah hits the corner, Malibu charging in and... Messiah ducks, throwing him over! [But Malibu lands on the apron!] SR: GREAT balance by Johnny Malibu landing on the apron and... shoves a shoulder into Messiah's stomach! [And Messiah stumbles away, holding his midsection. Malibu gets back up, waiting for Messiah to turn. He does and then...] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [Springboard bitchslap!] SR: OH CRAAAAAAP! ED: What a bitch! [The crowd goes NUTS for the springboard bitchslap, cheering and booing as loudly as any other time this evening! "Club Malibu" goes really crazy for it!] YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* [The crowd suddenly turns on THEM, BOOING the crap out of the six or so! Malibu runs off the ropes and right at Messiah...] "SLAP!" [And Messiah gets him back!] ED: Bitches! All of them! "SLAP!" [Messiah slaps Malibu across the face one more time... and the crowd is firmly behind him at this point. Yes, they are letting poor Johnny have it.] YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! *clap clap clapclapclap* ED: What happened to a good old forearm to the jaw?! Why are these two slapping each other like girls?! Christ man. I can see a chop, it's manly, but a slap in the face? Lame. SR: Messiah has his arm... SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE! [Malibu goes down but Messiah doesn't let go!] SR: Johnny Malibu pulled back up... knee lift... ANOTHER CLOTHESLINE! ED: He's still holding on! He is pulling Johnny Malibu back up, front face lock... [Then...] MESSIAH: SYSTEMATIC DESTRUCTION! [ANTICIPATION POP!] SR: Here he goes with the tornado ddt--MALIBU THROWS HIM OFF! [Messiah flies off but lands on his feet! Malibu gloats to the crowd, yelling at some woman in the front row. He doesn't know Messiah is up. Oh no he doesn't.] ED: Goddammit Johnny, wrestle already. [He turns... Messiah charges...] "THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" SR: YAAAAAAAKUUUUUUUUUUUZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! [STIFFNESS POP!] ED: COVERRRRRRRR! ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [DAMN CLOSE POP!] SR: WOW! WOW! WOW! That was a DAAAAAAAAAAMN close kickout right there! We are talking two and ninety nine one hundredths! ED: And right into a sleeper hold! Messiah's doing the smart thing. He just about knocked Johnny Malibu out right there with that yakuza kick. Putting him out with a sleeper should be a piece of cake now. SR: He has it on and Malibu is drifting off. This could be... wait... [Back pedalling, Malibu rams Messiah against the turnbuckles!] SR: He crushed Messiah against the corner right there but how much energy can he have? ED: After a kick right to his pretty boy face? SR: Johnny Malibu charging in... knee lift by Messiah! [Malibu falls to a knee, Messiah pulling him up and ramming him head first against the turnbuckle. He scoops him up, lifts and...] SR: Messiah plants Johnny Malibu right in the middle of the ring with a bodyslam... and it looks like he is heading up! ED: Messiah can do moves off the top rope?! SR: This is normally out of his range of offence. He is known for being hard hitting and liking submission holds. ED: And hitting people with shit. SR: And hitting people with shit... he is not known for going up top! [And it shows as he climbs slowly. He gets near the top, about to step with his final foot to the top rope when Johnny Malibu KIPS UP~! and charges in... "THUUNNNNNGH!" ...leaping up and kicking Messiah in the head, sending him outside to the floor! HUGE POP!] ED: OH DAMN! Talk about a big fall! Messiah is... what the hell?! Now Johnny is heading up top! Screw the rules! Let them go at it, this crowd really likes it! SR: They are on their feet as Malibu gets to the top and... LEAAAAAAAAAAAPS! [Not only does he leap, he flips forward as he does!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGHAAAAAAACK!" [HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE POP!] ED: Holy fu-- SR: OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWD... 450! 450 FROM THE TOP ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE! LORD OH LORD! [Of course...] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! [Both men are crumpled on the floor in a heap. That musta hurt!] ED: Talk about car wrecks! Both of those guys must be absolutely dead right now! Malibu leapt high, coming down with that 450 right onto Messiah. Damn. SR: You can say that again! ED: DA-- SR: I wasn't serious. ED: ... [Malibu is obviously the first one up, holding his torso as he moves away. Messiah crawls, if you can call it that, shaking the cobwebs from his head. The referee slides out, checking on both while telling them to get the action back into the ring. Malibu stumbles over to get Messiah, pulling him up. He grabs his wrist and whips him... ...right into an in the way referee! OHHHHHHHHHH!] ED: REF BUMP! SR: The referee is down! [Messiah bounces off, looking down at the referee, shocked he hit him...] "CRAAASH!" SR: MALIBU TAKES ADVANTAGE! ED: Into the steps goes Messiah! NOW it's on! SR: This is against Rave rules but with the referee down, no one can do anything about it! This match can go wild now. ED: It can. We'll likely be kicked out, but it can go now. I'd love to see security try and stop these two. [Malibu follows up, grabbing Messiah by the nape of his neck, ramming his head into the post. BRAWLING POP!] SR: Did you hear that?! Did you hear Messiah's head bouncing off that... oh god. He's busted open! Messiah is busted open! ED: Something he's very familiar with. SR: Blood is pouring down off his forehead. He _really_ gashed it there, knocking the skull off that steel post. Johnny Malibu may have scored a coup with that... inverted headlock now and... "THUUUUUUUUD!" [BUMP POP!] ED: OH SHIT! An inverted DDT on the floor and trust me, I've felt it, that ringside padding is NOT very thick. It's there because the building said we had to have something. It certainly doesn't protect anything. SR: Messiah is lying there, bleeding and to make it worse his head was smashed into that hard concrete floor! Johnny Malibu is almost having an easy time of it here and... [POP!]... ROLLING THUNDER ON THE FLOOR! ED: NO give! [Messiah crumples in a ball on impact, Malibu holding his back and grimacing in pain as he gets up. Security watches him warily... obviously noticing him flip them the bird... as he reaches over and takes an empty chair. He folds it up despite their protests and mentioning of the rules.] SR: The referee is still down and Johnny Malibu is taking full advantage of that fact here, Eric Dane. He is going to finish this match and maybe finish Messiah for good! ED: You've got to be kidding me. It'll take more then one chairshot to finish Messiah. Have you not seen his old matches? SR: Johnny Malibu is going to cream him--[GROAN!]--BUT A BLATANT LOW BLOW STOPS THAT! ED: How many times are they going to do that to each other?! Holy Christ already! [Instead of hitting Malibu with the chair, Messiah sets it up and sits it with him. He reaches over, grabs another chair...] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [...and hits him with that one! HUGE HARDCORE POP!] ED: THAT is what I'm talking about! [Malibu just kind of sits there, chair hanging off his head, Messiah falling to a knee as if praying before the altar of pain and hurt. He shakes it off just as quick, getting up and removing said chair, sending Malibu back into the ring.] SR: Messiah is going back to what he knows best and that is out and out hardcore brawling. He can't out quick Malibu but he can beat the crap out of him. ED: Damn rights he can. I am with everyone here in hoping he shuts that punk's mouth up for good. If not, well Team Danger has a solution for that whiny little douche. SR: Him and Rockwell LeMaster and the Great DAVE too I'd be willing to bet. ED: You'd bet right. [Messiah enters the ring, keeping the chair with him. He folds it nice again before... going up?!] SR: Where is he going now?! Messiah is not a high flier! ED: Or... is he? SR: He is going up with that chair and... [Leaps backwards!] SR: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONSAULT! [With the chair tucked against his body.] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" SR: MISSES! HE MISSES AND LANDED STRAIGHT ON THE CHAIR HE HAD WITH HIM! [SHOCKED POP!] ED: THAT is a match changer if not ender! [Both down! The crowd cheers or boos both depending on how they like. Messiah's body, wracked in pain, flops around. Malibu, rolled out of the way, holds his head. The ref? He rolls back into the ring, still dazed and groggy. There... all caught up.] SR: One of these men need to get up right now. ED: And Johnny Malibu HAS to be the prime candidate to do so. Messiah just moonsaulted onto a chair. He cannot be good right now. Wait... I just said Messiah did a moonsault. There is no God. SR: And it was spectacular at that, crash and burn or not. ED: It looks like Malibu is starting to stir! SR: That he is... and stumbling goes right after Messiah! [Messiah is on all fours, taking a direct shot right to the side of his head. He shrugs it off, taking another before getting back up and slumping into the corner. Malibu lines him up... Messiah cutting him off with a punch! Then another!] SR: MESSIAH IS TEEING OFF AND LETTING LOOSE ON JOHNNY MALIBU! ED: Johnny's fighting back! [POP!] SR: Drop toe hold face first right into the bottom turnbuckle! ED: That'll stop a comeback! [Messiah isn't done, holding Malibu down with a foot to the head. He stomps away with one hard one before moving to the legs and wrapping them up Indian Deathlock style, Malibu face down. He reaches forward, pulling Malibu backwards by the arms... "THUUUUUUUUMP!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" ...pressing him down with a foot face first into the bottom turnbuckle!! HUUUUUUGE SICK POP!] SR: A CURBSTOMP! A CURBSTOMP RIGHT INTO THE TURNBUCKLES! HOLY GOD! [Malibu bounces off with FORCE, clutching at his face as he squirms, panicking almost, on the canvas. Messiah looks over him in sick glee before looking over at the commentary table, pointing at Dane.] ED: You don't want any of this. SR: I think he's saying you're next! [A "the belt goes here" motion and Messiah picks up Malibu, eyes locked on Dane.] SR: Oh, Eric Dane just got up from the table! His headphones are off and he and Messiah are having words! Things are heating up in the Rave here in the match for the Wisconsin State Championship! [Messiah smirks... then spits at Dane! Dane, obviously and visibly angry, doesn't make a move but wipe it from his face. The referee looks over, warning The One Star to stay out.] SR: Oh, Messiah, why would you do that? [The crowd OOOOOOHHHHHHH's at the spitting, Dane simply nodding one of those "You'll get yours" nods.] SR: Messiah is pulling up Johnny Malibu by the hair... he is wasting time here. Quit arguing with Dane and get this match finished, Messiah! This is your chance at gold here in NEXT and you're wasting it! [Messiah looks down at Dane, telling him he'll even "...use your shitty move." He shoves Malibu into a front face lock... flips the bird at Dane and... ...is rolled up! SHOCKED POP!] SR: INSIDE CRADLE BY MALIBU! [Who reaches out and grabs the ropes!] ONE! TWO! [Messiah kicks away, Malibu holding his tights with his other hand!] THREE! DING DING DING! [HEEL POP CITY!] RA: YOUR WINNER AND SSSSSSTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL WISCONSIN STATE CHAMPION... ...JOOOOHHHNNY F'N MALLLLLIBUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! [Malibu rolls quickly out as Messiah gets back up, looking for revenge. Of course Malibu slips out the wrong side, the side closest to a fuming Eric Dane. The One Star looks at him, Malibu tripping over himself as he backpedals away. Messiah takes a swing from the ring, trying to get back at Malibu.] SR: He pulled one off! He pulled a DAMN close one off and it took a ton of cheating to do it. He held the ropes, he held the tights... but really the important thing is that he won this match and retained the title. [Malibu backs up the aisle, both Dane and Messiah's eyes locked on the retreating champ. Garbage flies from the crowd at Malibu, the champ holding his belt aloft.] SR: We have a champion... we have a number one contender... [Quick shots.] [A glaring Eric Dane.] [Chest heaving, breathing heavy, stands Messiah.] [Belt held in one hand above his head, wide smile on his exhausted and pained face... the champ.] SR: We have something brewing here folks. Something big... see you after NEO International's Dawn of a New Age! [Fade.] ================= DVD EXTRAS EXTRA 1: Steve Greedy EXTRA 2: Justin Harper EXTRA 3: Brian Fisher EXTRA 4: Hantu Penyardin EXTRA 5: Tyler Lee =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 1 =*=*=*=*=*= V/O : I am going to try to be as modest as possible when saying this. [Fade In.] [The camera pans in on a surprisingly happy "Rich One" Steve Greedy. His trademark smirk is at it's finest here today.] Steve Greedy : NEXT, you must love me. I mean seriously, let's look at things shall we ? [Greedy pauses, turning his smirk into a full fledged smile.] Steve Greedy : I was in your FIRST EVER match up, then I was selected as a captain for a trios match, and now I am in your first ever triple threat match. Truly you all must be impressed with me for one reason, or another. I know, I know you think I would be mad cause I don't seem to be doing that well in these royal rumbles you keep putting together for God knows what fucking reason, but rumbles are more about being lucky than good. I'm good. I'm not sold on myself being lucky. Never have been that lucky. [Greedy steps back, leaned against a wall non chalantly.] Steve Greedy : I'm not sure why I am in this particular match, but you can guarantee I will again be the reason the people watch the match. Don't believe me ? Just watch. [Chuckles] Steve Greedy : Got cha didn't I ? You were gonna watch, prolly still will . .. It's alright though NEXT .. .Know matter what the rest of the roster is going . .. _BANKRUPT_ You can take that to the bank. [Pause for dramatic effect.] Steve Greedy : MY BANK. [With that comment the smile fades, and we finally get a glare before panning out from the "Rich One".] [Fade.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 2 =*=*=*=*=*= [The camera fades in on a dark room. We cannot see much detail about the room as the candles lighting it don't provide enough light to see much except for one thing. That thing being Justin Harper. He's kneeling with his back to the camera, dressed in only his ring gear. As he starts to speak his voice is pensive.] Justin: "The Malayian Vampire" Hantu Penyardin. He's only just debuted here in NEXT and already he's being touted as one of the most dangerous wrestlers in NEO International. And I'm wrestling him in a street fight, apparently. Not only that but I've got a no holds barred match against Mr. Bitch on the third show as well. [Justin doesn't turn to face the camera, though he does keep speaking. As the camera gets a little closer, we can see that he's taping his fists, most likely in preperation for the street fight ahead of him. It's going to be a rough rest of the month for Justin Harper and he knows it.] Justin: If there was ever an unenviable position for a wrestler to be in, I'm in it. First there's a street fight against a man who is, by all accounts a vicious psychotic and then a no holds barred match against a man who despises me and who has much more experience in no rules matches then I do. Then there's my well known disdain for hardcore matches, which makes this situation even more annoying for me. I'm in for the fight of my life, twice over and don't think that I don't know it. [Justin continues taping his fists, biting through the tape as he finishes taping the left one. Then he naturally begins taping the right fist, all the while continuing to speak. Though he tries to hide it, it's clear that he's pretty worried. After all, wouldn't you be?] Justin: This Malayian Vampire guy is said to be an incredibly dangerous fighter. Fortunately I'm no slouch myself. I may not like this situation but that doesn't mean I'm merely going to lay down and die. Whatever happens Hantu and Mr. Bitch will know they've been in a fight and God willing, perhaps I'll be able to shut up Mr. Bitch once and for all. [The camera moves closer still, going around Justin on his right in order to film him from the front. As it does so, Justin finishes taping his right hand, biting through the tape as he finishes like he did before. He glances at the camera, a determined look in his eyes. In front of him are two bowls, filled with crushed glass.] Justin: Personally I think this sort of match is absolutely barbaric, but I will adapt if I have to. I may not be familiar with the ins and outs of slashing people with barbed wire or the best way to attempt to toss somebody through a flaming object but I can swing a chair with the best of them. They can bring all thier psycho little tricks and we'll see how they stack up against judo and jujutsu. I may not have hardcore experience like Mr. Bitch but I'm pretty sure I can choke a bitch out with no trouble at all. Sure, it's the worst fight of my entire career to date, most likely. [Justin lowers his fists into the bowls. It quickly becomes apparent that his fists are wrapped in double sided tape, because the glass sticks to his fists quite well. He looks into the camera as he attaches the glass to his hands.] Justin: But I'll manage. [Camera fade to black.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 3 =*=*=*=*=*= [Cut to a locker room.] [Dark, empty.] [The door to the room gets pushed open, the light switch flicked. Illuminated, we see an unfamiliar face set his bags down on the floor.] [The man—six feet, five inches, roughly two-hundred fifty pounds—looks around the room and smiles.] [He runs his hands through his brown hair, disheveling it a bit.] Fisher: Next. [Brian Fisher sits down on a steel chair.] Fisher: How appropriate. [Fisher looks to the camera.] Fisher: I know what you’re thinking… [Sitting back, relaxing.] Fisher: …just some other punk kid tryin’ to make his way in a business where ways are rarely made. [Nodding.] Fisher: Just some freeloader tryin’ to make a name at the expense of guys who’ve been there before, who’ve done things. [Crossing his legs.] Fisher: Listen. [Pausing.] Fisher: I’ll say this one time and one time only. [Smirking.] Fisher: Just because you may not know the name…just because you may not recognize the face…doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. [Leaning forward.] Fisher: Tyler Lee, Steve Greedy—they’ll find out. They’ll know the name—they’ll write it down. They’ll recognize the face—they’ll take a picture. The rest of you should do the same. I don’t care if your name’s Elvis Sunday or if it’s Johnny Malibu. Do yourself a favor. [Smiling.] Fisher: Name’s Brian Fisher. [Serious.] Fisher: Remember it. =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 4 =*=*=*=*=*= Voice: Like a viper.. it strikes.. and like a victim.. It breathes no more. Can the truth be any more disconcerting.. for one.. Elivs Sunday? [The scene fades in to an eerily deja-vu-like backstage locker room. The same chipped green-painted metal that reflect off the slow glow of the flickering, aging lightbulb above them rests casually. The same, equally-as-chipped wooden bench stretches across the center of the narrow row of lockers.. only this time a man sits straddling the egde of the bench. His head is tilted downward.. as the circular puft of long brown hair escapes down his left shoulder in front of him.. his darkly tanned bald head otherwise sheening off the light.] [In his right hand he holds a fragment of some metallic object.. while in his left is nothing but emptiness. He stares down at the shard.. eyes fixated upon it.. it's edges look as though they could cut glass. He juggles it in his hand.. rubbing it between his knuckles.. forcing a slight cut as blood begins to drop, droplet by droplet, onto the cracked stone floor. Does he feel? Can he feel?] [Or, once again, should he be referred to as "it". For this is the beast known as Hantu Penyardin. Instinctively, he clutches the shard tight.. releasing it with a grimace.. a chuckle.. a sigh.. and then, with superior sleight-of-hand, he seems to pocket it into nothingness.. or perhaps a boot.. who knows.. it was lightning quick. Nevertheless, his hand still bleeds.. his eyes fixated upon the sight.] Penyardin: And yet the viper still bleeds crimson, just like you, Elvis. But bleed it does.. by it's own free will. For the pleasure.. for the pain.. and for the penance. Penance? [Hantu chuckles, coarsely.] Penyardin: Yes, even a beast can feel remorse, Elvis Sunday. Even a beast can feel as though he has wronged a fellow living subject. Even a beast.. [He trails off.. completely fixated on the free-flowing blood coarsing down his hand onto the floor.] Penyardin: But the remorse I feel.. is not that of a job done wrong.. ..it is of a job not completed. You may think to yourself that the one who calls himself the Great Dave wronged you. But take heed, Elvis, that Dave merely saved you. Saved you from a life riddled in wheelchairs.. food processed into your stomach via medical tubing.. and wet nurses of a grotesque physique and attitude making sure you smell hardly the way you look. [A slight cock of the head to the right.. but no lifting. Oh no, eye contact is golden for some, a deathstroke for others.] Penyardin: In some ways.. you and Dave robbed me, Elvis. You robbed me of _my_ pleasure and _my_ pain.. you caused me unforeseeable anguish to which I must ask retrieval upon high.. and retribution to persue y own self-loatheing once more. I was robbed of the bloodthirst.. Elvis.. But the Malayan Vampire learns from his past mistakes. [A simple, effective nod.] Penyardin: In the wild.. and in the ring.. a beast must kill or be killed.. and I must consider myself fortunate to have survived my own shortcomings. I toyed with you, Elvis, my prey.. my unaware lamb.. But toy no any more. Justin... I know nothing of you. I won't pretend.. or build up any prior animosity towards you for the sake of a few more tickets to be sold in your honor. I don't know you.. and I do not care to. But let it be known.. that you are the gazelle.. gingerly walking into my territory. You are the hunted. The prize. The difference between the Malayan Vampire feasting or starving. [A deep gulp.. almost knotted in his throat..] Penyardin: And you can call it however you see fit. Call it what you must. Call it bad luck.. bad karma.. or a simple miscalculation.. but in the end, those who live to tell the tale _will_ call it for what it truly was: A bloodbath in the making. [Blood continues to pour from his cut hand.. his eyes seemingly still walking the individual droplets splattering onto the ground.] Penyardin: For I refuse to be the one asking penance when the dust settles, Justin... And I refuse to see anything but crimson when your head is lifted, limply.. off the mat. Survival, Justin... Can you survive in _my_ crimson playground? We shall find out.. although the answer is abundantly clear.. Is it not? [Hantu cackles sickly as we fade out.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 5 =*=*=*=*=*= [Backstage at the Rave Hall, Tyler Lee is sitting alone in a stairwell. His torso is covered by his black "Heatwave Wrestling Dojo" with a blue stripe running across the chest. Sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands are clasped together between his legs. He's also wearing a blue pair of track pants with white stripes running up the side of each leg and a blue beanie with a white Adidas logo on the right side.] [Slowly, Lee brings his gaze up from the floor to look into the camera, his emerald-greens flashing.] "Two weeks removed from the Rumble, and tonight I get a chance to shine. Not exactly in the way I'd anticipated, because my match is no longer just a classic one-on-one singles match. No, once again I'm thrown into a match with an added variable. What was once Tyler Lee versus Steve Greedy is now a three-way involving Brian Fisher. "Now, I don't even have to get pinned or submit to lose the match. If I'm not paying attention, if I'm dazed for just a SECOND... then it could be over. I don't even have to be involved in the decision. Once AGAIN, I don't get what I want. I don't get a chance to showcase my TRUE ability in the ring. But that's fine. I'll still carry these saps to put on the match of the night. And I'll WIN." [Pausing, he swipes his tongue across his lips.] "And this isn't me being cocky, people. This isn't me being OVER-confident. This is me telling it like it is. This is Tyler Lee telling you all exactly what he plans on accomplishing during his time here in NEXT. When it comes to wrestling -- not politics, not acting out soap operas -- but WRESTLING, I am second to NONE. You can tell me I'm full of shit. You can call me a liar. But until you prove me wrong, shut the fuck up and keep on trying." [Lee's lips curl into a sneer as he scoffs into the camera.] "Now, as for my opponents for the evening... Steve Greedy. 'The Rich One'. Honestly, I don't know that much about you. I've seen a couple of your matches, sure, even seen some of your promos on the NEXT DVDs. And, well... I don't really know anything more about you than I did the first time I heard your name. Quite frankly, I have a hard time following some of your promos. All I know is... "One, you are one unintelligible fuck. "Two, you like to flaunt all the money you have. In a regional indy fed. "...Uh huh. I won't even touch that one. Jebus." [A quick roll of the eyes.] "And three, and this one's just a daisy... You claim to be the one who's going to throw your company on his back and carry it into the future. Now, Steve, correct me if I'm wrong here, but you've been here longer than I have. At least for a few shows, I'm guessing. And, here I am, a rookie here in NEXT. Fresh off of my first show, which was a Rumble. So, really, my debut match is tonight. And it's against you. The self-proclaimed 'foundation to the future' of this company. "Is it just me, or do franchise-types not curtain-jerk against the debuting talent?" [A pause, allowing for Lee to mockingly ponder this, complete with the "thoughtful" rubbing of the stubbled chin. Before long, he drops his arm back down to his knee, the smirk returning.] "Don't worry, money bags. While you're pondering that, I'll have already blown by you tonight, leaving you to give the answer to the next schmuck you open the show with." [He shakes his head, giving a derisive snort.] "Now, as for Brian Fisher... Well, I know less about you than I do Greedy. I've heard some buzz about you from various places, even a couple of old stomping grounds of mine. But none of that matters here. None of those places are NEXT. And here, Brian, we're on a level playing field. On a level playing field with me? I just don't think you're up to snuff. "Either way, Fisher, tonight I'm going home with a victory. And I don't care if it's you or Greedy that I pin or make tap; I'm an equal opportunity badass, boys. When all is said and done tonight, I'm getting my hand raised. I don't care how it happens. I don't care who I beat. I don't care if I have to hurt someone, but I WILL be the one winning this match. "And, quite frankly, there's not a god damn thing you can do about it." [A wink.] "Trust me." [Cut.]