[Just when you thought it was safe to leave the house...] [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. He's dressed in his street attire, if you want to call it that. An unbuttoned teal and white colored dress shirt, black slacks, and some stylish black dress shoes.] # 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's volume drops significantly, but it's replaced by the crowd's response -- raucous booing to say the least; like him or hate him, Johnny F'n Malibu has never failed to elicit SOME kind of response from this crowd. And there he stands, dead center of the ring, his grin is tight and bright.] JFM: Eric Dane I have two words for you... [The dramatic pause to start another fabulous promo for our *NEW* beloved champion.] JFM: Spotlight... [Johnny smiles, hooking his thumbs down towards his beautiful gold title belt around his waist.] ...MINE! [Huge heel pop!] JFM: Hi there, Eric. [A parade-wave toward the aisle.] JFM: Everyone wants to know... how did Johnny F'n Malibu do it again? How did the Irresistible Object defy life as we know it_ONE MORE TIME_and deliver the promise he laid down last week... leaving the Rave with gold on his waist and everyone else shooting for second place which is the equivalent of being in the special Olympics. Well congratulations are in order I suppose. So... Eric Dane. You have just won gold in the retard Olympics. What do you want to do NEXT?! CROWD: "DISNEY-LAND!" [CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!] CROWD: "DISNEY-LAND!" [CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!] CROWD: "DISNEY-LAND!" [CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!] JFM: Ha, yes, Eric Dane will get a one way ticket to California courteous of the Johnny F'n Malibu Express. You tried to paint me in the corner with a knee to the face Mister Dane but the_FIVE STAR PHENOM_could not be held down. And you know what? NOBODY is surprised. It's not because deep down I scare people or anything of that nature -- oh no, not_THIS_guy. I let everyone run their mouths about who was going to be the first champion of this fed and I let it slide for two weeks without so much a word and now you all know why. It's because only one man around here can back up his words and that's good ole... [A small group of the crowd chime in... noticeable for the three or four wearing Hawaiian shirts.] CROWD: "JAY!" [Smile.] CROWD: "EFF'N!" [Wink.] CROWD: "EMM!" [And a two finger salute.] JFM: Yeah, it's me. I let everyone speculate and name drop you as the favourite so it would be that much sweeter when I let you taste victory and then SNATCH it away from you like only I can. And I heard it all. Is Johnny F'n Malibu scared? Malibu fears Dane -- what the hell kind of name is Dane anyway.. what is this a dog and pony show? But the biggest thing that people were saying is that I couldn't get it done like I did the first time around. That I had a few failed attempts to reclaim the glory I created in IWE and the dream was over. The Irresistible Object's ride to the top was short lived and remembered even less. But when it came down to it I realized something. I'm just too damn pretty and you are just too god damn ugly to be holding_THIS_. [He motions to the belt... again. I'm sure he will do so as often as possible.] JFM: Because much like you can't make shit shine by giving it the big gold, you can't take the charisma and the pure natural ability to win out of Johnny F'n Malibu. And it doesn't matter how many cheap knock offs of me you line up to sell out each week, it doesn't matter how many overweight fat bastards you sick on me and have the announcers over hype each time they are able to somehow find their own dick in their pants... NOBODY gets the job done better than me. And NOBODY does it quite like me. I'm still going to show up each and every time and kick whatever sorry excuse for a contender NEXT lines up ass and walk out of the Rave the same way I walk in. The Champion. Not even Seth Kinsey's irrelevant rants could convince anyone otherwise. [A big, broad grin.] JFM: And in three weeks when Dane has to put on the big daddy pants and play dress-up to pretend he's a "real" tough guy for me he'll known that if a man half his size can toss him out of a rumble not once but TWICE, just imagine how much fun I'm gonna have feeding him his butt-ugly face and making sure this belt stays around my waist so he can go back to being a pissy little nobody around here again that nobody has ever heard of. I ain't Rockwell LeMaster or freakin' Steve Greedy, and you'll learn that real damn quick. [Malibu's grin is so wide, he looks like a shark.] JFM: And as for my match with Messiah next week? Ha! I laugh at the thought of some self named preacher bad boy facing me because the way I'm running right now... [A pause.] ...Not even god himself could keep me down. [Malibu gets ready to let the mic fall to the ground when all of a sudden... Cue: Lamb of God. "A Devil in God's Country"] # Down south soldier # # Third world soldier # # My vengeance will be swift and terrible # # Many will die. # SR: It's about to get INTERESTING in The Rave! # 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 and shut Malibu up, 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. # [Finally out steps the man who nearly outlasted the entire NEXT roster at the NEXT Rumble.] [Eric Dane.] [The crowd pops again when they see that not only is he dressed to fight in his usual black and silver TEAM DANGER tights and a TD Hockey Jersey, but he's got his very own microphone in his hands. The music cuts and NEXT's very own wrestling machine stops about midway to the ring, bringing the mic to his lips.] ED: Do the world a favor, kid... [Wait for it...] ED: ...and shut the fuck up! [Crowd: RAAAAH!] ED: You haven't had that belt for fifteen minutes yet and the entire state of Wisconsin has collectively decided to stick their middle fingers up and let you know that you're "number one." [Malibu tries to respond but is drowned out by another pop. All 250 strong at The Rave are giving Malibu the "Two Finger Salute."] ED: And now that we've got that little piece of business settled, let's talk about the Rumble for a minute, eh? The Rumble that you ran around in for twenty minutes sliding in and out of the ring until Tobias Chapel Smith caught you and knocked you stupid. The same Rumble that I outlasted you by a good fifteen minutes. And that's fifteen minutes of fighting with the best that NEXT has to offer, not skimping in and out of the ring to save my own ass. [Dane scoffs.] ED: But hey, I'll give you your due, kid, when the chips were down, and it was you and me, you got the better of me. I could take the easy way out and blame fatigue, but unlike you I have a sense of reality, and I understand things like that. [Pause, he walks a bit closer to the ring.] ED: And as far as out little pick your partner Tag Match in a couple of weeks goes, make all the jokes about me that you want, but I got somethin' for your ass, and I can guaran-goddamn-tee that you ain't gonna like it one bit. However... [He grins a knowing grin.] ED: That's two weeks away. I got somethin' for ya right now too! [Anticipation pop!] [Dane starts to stride toward the ring when... HEEL POP! From behind come Rockwell LeMaster and The Great DAVE, the two ramming with concussive force into the One Star. He tumbles down the aisle, LeMaster on him with heavy stomps.] SR: The Great DAVE and Rockwell LeMaster are stomping the hell out of Eric Dane! They completely blindsided him, took him down and... where is Dane's partner? Where is Tyrone Walker?! [DAVE orders his translator, Hiroshi, out of the way. Lifting Dane up he grabs him around the body, ramming him into the apron before rolling him in. LeMaster slides in, shoving a boot into his throat, DAVE up on the apron.] SR: These two are decimating Eric Dane in there... SLISHOT BY DAVE... [BOO!] SR: And all he did was stomp him! What an arrogant bunch of... [Walker runs down to the ring and starts punching away at LeMaster.] SR: Oh yeah! The odds are evening up a bit here folks and Walker is here to stand beside his partner. [Tyrone is rocking Rockwell back with left and right hands, he rears back and...] "*SMAAAACK*!" SR: Hard chop right to the chest of LeMaster and he's stumbling backwards! [The big man indeed is rocked back, Dane on the other hand is getting kicked furiously by The Great DAVE! Eric stops one of the kicks with his hand and pushes DAVE back to a large pop from the fans.] SR: Dane is back up and now he's laying into DAVE! "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" "*SMACK*!" SR: The Only Star is absolutely _LEVELING_ DAVE with those chops folks and this isn't looking good for DAVE and LeMaster! [Simultaneously Dane and Walker hit DAVE and LeMaster with clotheslines, sending them tumbling over the top rope.] SR: Team Danger has cleared the ring folks and it's not so easy when the odds are even, is it? [Fans cheering loudly, the referee calls for the bell.] DING DING! SR: And we're on! Our opening match-up of the evening is officially underway. [Walker checks on the status of Dane, who waves him off and says he wants to start the match. LeMaster and DAVE on the other hand are both clutching at their chests on the outside, after a bit of collaboration they decide that Rockwell will be starting the match. America's Next Top Superstar climbs up the apron and into the ring.] SR: It looks like Dane and LeMaster will be starting it off for their teams, let's get it on! [Circling one another, Dane looks to be measuring the larger Rockwell up. LeMaster dashes in and the two come together in a collar and elbow tie-up.] SR: Eric and LeMaster are locked up here, right in the middle of the ring and look to be evenly matched up in strength. Although Rockwell has the weight advantage, they are similar in height and it looks like Dane is a little bit lower, using that center of gravity to his advantage. [Indeed Dane pushes Rockwell from the center of the ring and into the corner!] SR: Dane has him backed up in the corner, the referee is calling for a clean break. [The Only Star raises his hands above his head for the clean break, obliging the referee.] SR: Eric letting up and OH! Eye poke by Rockwell! [Jabbing him right in the eye, LeMaster chuckles a bit as the referee warns him for going against the rules.] SR: Rockwell following in and knees Dane in the gut, doubling him over. [LeMaster takes quick advantage, whipping Eric into the ropes.] CROWD: "OOOOOOOOHHHHH!!" SR: Dane bouncing off and gets absolutely _NAILED_ with a big boot right to the face by LeMaster! [Rockwell laughs some more after kicking Dane right in the teeth, he points in the general direction of Tyrone Walker before going down and hooking Dane's leg for a cover.] SR: An early cover by LeMaster. "ONE!" "TWO!" "KICKOUT!" SR: It's going to take a lot more than a boot to the face to take Eric Dane down, he's shown his toughness already here in NEXT and shouldn't be taken lightly. [LeMaster gets up and argues with the referee over the count, getting into his face.] SR: Rockwell obviously didn't agree with the count but it looked like to me that it was a blatant two count. [Rockwell turns back around and focuses his attention on Dane.] SR: LeMaster picking Eric up and grabbing him around the waist, squeezing him in a bearhug. [Really grinding his hands into the lower back of Dane, LeMaster looks to have a tight grip, causing an extreme amount of pain.] SR: Eric is visibly feeling the effects of this move, all of his air being squeezed out of his body. [Without any warning, LeMaster runs towards the turnbuckle, _SMASHING_ the lower back of the Only Star right into the corner.] SR: A lot of momentum behind that bearhug smash from LeMaster! Dane is slumping up against the corner and I don't think Rockwell is done yet! [LeMaster attempts to nail Dane in the face with an elbow but Dane parries and nails him right in the kisser with a elbow of his own! Face pop!] SR: Rockwell is rocked by the big elbow from Dane! Eric charging right in and hits a mean lariat on LeMaster! [Falling to the mat, America's Next Top Superstar looks pretty stunned from the impact of the lariat. He gets up though, before Dane can continue the assault.] SR: LeMaster back up and Dane goes for another lariat, but it's ducked by Rockwell! LeMaster tries for a lariat of his own but Dane ducks under that one! [LeMaster's force behind the lariat sends him stumbling and Dane grabs him from behind.] SR: Eric has him locked, he lifts-- [In perfect position and falls with a nice Dragon Suplex!] SR: Shoulders are on the mat! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Disappointed pop!] SR: LeMaster _just_ kicked out of that Dragon Suplex and Dane is right back up, ready to keep onto the attack. [Dane picks LeMaster up by the hair and jaw jacks him with a forearm shot, sending spit and sweat flying through the air.] SR: A hard forearm shot by Dane has LeMaster rocked again, Dane bounces off the ropes and spins, trying for a roaring elbow but it's blocked by Rockwell! [LeMaster shrugs the shot off and kicks Dane in the stomach, doubling him over.] SR: He's got him locked in a front face lock and is lifting! [Lifting him up high in the air, letting the blood flow to Dane's brain.] SR: LeMaster showing some impressive strength here, he's had him up there for a while now. He's walking around the ring, showing off and Dane is turning red in the face from all the blood rushing to his brain. [Faking the suplex, Rockwell sets Dane down on his feet?] SR: What is he doing? He set Dane back down and Eric looks a little lost to where he is. [LeMaster sets up and _UNLEASHES_ with a clothesline, violently taking Dane down. Heel pop rains down upon America's Next Top Superstar as he mocks the fans.] SR: He shows off his power, then sets him down and hits a clothesline? I can't say that I've seen that one before. Rockwell looking over to his corner and we may have our first tag of the night! [LeMaster casually walks over to the corner, slapping The Great DAVE's hand.] SR: DAVE is now the legal man, and Dane is crawling over to the corner as well! [The crowd pops as the Only Star, clutching at his head as he does so crawls over towards Black Jesus. Walker is stretched out and DAVE is running to try to interrupt the tag.] SR: The King of Sport is trying but it looks like--YES! DANE TAGGED WALKER IN! [Holy shit, it's Tyrone Walker pop!] SR: Walker into the ring and DAVE looks like he doesn't want any part of Tyrone. [DAVE points to the referee to check Walker for foreign objects. The Great One leans out towards the apron, his legs inside and his head through the ropes and on the outside.] SR: What the hell is he doing? Asking the referee to check Walker for illegal objects? Is this some kind of joke? [DAVE vehemently asks for the ref to check. Reluctantly he walks over to Walker, who is fuming mad and asks him to check.] SR: The referee is going to check! Tyrone Walker looks none to pleased from these happenings, it's obvious that DAVE was trying to kill any sort of momentum Walker had when entering the match. [The referee pats Walker down, and DAVE re-enters the ring, ready to start things off...for the second time.] SR: We're done with that little setback and here we go! WALKER CHARGING DAVE AND HITS HIM WITH A JUMPING SIDE KICK TO THE FACE! [DAVE falls back, clutching at his jaw as he does so. He slides towards the turnbuckle, pulling himself back up.] SR: Walker not letting up though, he hits DAVE with an elbowshot, rocking him back into the turnbuckle. These guys sure like to throw the elbows. IT'S THE FIGHTING SPIRIT! [Walker turns DAVE around, hooking him.] SR: Tyrone lifting and hits a nice side backbreaker onto DAVE. [TGD lies on the ground, yelling in pain and clutching at his back. Much to his dismay, Walker lifts him up again.] SR: Black Jesus, as he calls himself lifting DAVE up and locks him in an inverted face lock. [Tyrone gloats for just a second then drops DAVE onto his knee backfirst, working it over once again.] SR: Inverted DDT right onto the knee and that won't help matters out much for DAVE's back. [Walker, without hesitation lifts TGD up once again, throwing him against the ropes.] SR: DAVE bouncing off and Walker has his head ducked down, looking for a backdrop maybe. DAVE flipping over and hits a sunset flip! [Although he does indeed hook the arms into a pinning position, one of DAVE's hands goes to his back, clutching against it. Walker's shoulders are still on the mat, but one of his legs is free.] SR: Here's the count! "ONE!" "TWO!" SR: Walker kicks DAVE in the head with that free leg, sending him down to the mat! Walker hooking the legs and going for his own pin! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Disappointed pop!] SR: Another kickout! Dave's rolling backwards after kicking out and hits a quick dropkick to the knee of Walker! [The crowd groans as Walker's knee almost contorts from the impact, sending him to the mat. Tyrone clutches at the knee as DAVE bounces off the ropes.] SR: TGD off the ropes and _NAILS_ Tyrone with a front dropkick right to the mouth! Ouch. [DAVE walks over to Walker, putting one foot on his chest.] SR: Blatant show of disrespect by DAVE here, covering him with _ONE_ foot. "ONE!" "KICKOUT!" SR: Easy kickout by Walker and he looks pissed once again! [Tyrone jumps to his feet, grimacing as he does, the pain in his knee reacting.] SR: DAVE rears back and hits an Asian Uppercut right to the chin of Walker! [For those who don't know, an Asian Uppercut is just your plain-old European Uppercut but DAVE is Asian...Get it? Ok... he pretends to be Asian] SR: Dave lifting Walker up in a fireman's carry position! Looks like a Samoan Drop! [TGD looks to fall back but Walker slithers down in front of him, catching him with a boot to the gut. Tyrone bounces off the ropes and hits a swinging neckbreaker on DAVE, sending him to the mat.] SR: Nice neckbreaker by Walker there, buying him a little time to recuperate. He's still clutching at his knee, I think DAVE caught him pretty good earlier with that dropkick. [Walker bends his knee, trying to get the pain out and runs towards DAVE as he's on the ground.] SR: Tyrone running and DAVE counters quickly with a drop-toe hold onto that bottom rope! [Black Jesus' neck ricochets off the bottom rope and DAVE quickly goes to work, choking him against the ropes.] SR: DAVE with an obvious choke right in front of the referee! You've got to stop him! [The ref starts his five count, trying to get DAVE to release the hold.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR" "FI--" SR: Look at him, he let's go just in time. Using every second he can to cheat! [Walker, clutching at his neck and trying to catch his breath is still hanging over the rope while the referee has a talk with DAVE.] SR: DAVE arguing with the ref and that gives LeMaster enough time to go to work! These two are something else. [LeMaster indeed drops down to the ringside area, slapping Walker across the face numerous times.] "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" SR: This is despicable! Eric Dane is yelling for the ref to stop arguing with DAVE and pay attention. [LeMaster stops before the referee sees him and gets back onto the ring apron, holding his hands out to his side as if to say "What? Me?"] SR: Rockwell is getting questioned but he stopped just in time. These guys follow a strict diet of cheating. DAVE tagging LeMaster in. [America's Next Top Superstar goes through the ropes and picks Walker up by the hair.] SR: They're taking control of this match, using underhanded tricks to keep Walker off balance. LeMaster throwing Tyrone into their turnbuckle! [DAVE grabs the rope hanging loosely from the top turnbuckle and begins choking Walker, right in front of the referee.] SR: More choking and Rockwell is down in a three-point stance. This doesn't look good for Walker! [LeMaster charges in, looking for a clothesline in the corner but Tyrone brings his foot up, knocking him off balance! Face pop!] SR: Walker reversed it with a kick to the face! He elbows DAVE off of him and it looks like the tide has changed! [DAVE falls off the apron and to the outside while Tyrone goes over to LeMaster, whipping him into _HIS_ corner.] SR: Rockwell is the one in a bad position now and Walker tags Eric Dane in! [Face pop! Dane steps through the ropes, with Walker on one side and him on the other they begin unleashing into LeMaster.] "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" "*SMACK!" [BIG CHOP-FEST POP!] SR: Walker and Dane _UNLOADED_ on LeMaster with those double team chops. Tyrone is now going on all fours, what do they have in mind? [The Only Star goes to the opposite corner, measuring up and begins in a straight sprint, jumping off of Walker's back then using his left foot to spring up even higher from LeMaster's right knee, crushing him in the face with a knee! Another pop!] SR: DOUBLE JUMP SHINING WIZARD BY DANE! He nailed Rockwell with that one! [Walker goes to the corner, back in tag position as Eric goes for the cover.] SR: A cover! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" SR: That was almost it! Dane not going to waste any time though, he picks LeMaster back up! [Eric locks Rockwell in a Cobra Clutch position as the fans pop!] SR: Cobra Clutch and he may have something else in mind here. He's trying to lift Rockwell up! [LeMaster, wanting no part of it is holding his weight to the mat, not wanting to get dropped on his head. Dane continues to try but is futile with every attempt.] SR: LeMaster using his weight advantage to keep himself grounded! "OHHHHHHHH!" SR: Quick back kick to the groin by Rockwell and Dane is clutching at his groin! [Eric, doubled over and in obvious pain doesn't see LeMaster, who picks him up and over his shoulder.] SR: Rockwell has him and is showing off his power again, just walking around the ring with Dane on his shoulder! Even if he hangs out with the likes of DAVE and doesn't follow the rules too much, you have to admit that LeMaster is one physical specimen. He's treating Eric Dane like a rag doll here. [Content with how long he's held him up, LeMaster charges across the ring with Dane across his shoulder.] SR: Running Powerslam! Hook of the leg. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Relieved Pop!] SR: Almost a three count there and LeMaster is arguing with the referee over the count. These guys just continue to give the referee problems. [LeMaster stops with his arguing then looks at the body of Dane. Noticing he's still on the ground, Rockwell heads towards one of the corners.] SR: LeMaster looks like he's going towards the top, the big man is going to the top! [Anxious big man high flying move pop! Rockwell slowly climbs up the turnbuckle.] SR: This could be the end if LeMasters hit this. He's got a lot of body weight coming off! HE LEAPS! [His leg outstretched for a legdrop....] [...down...] [....down...] "OHHHHHHHHH!" [FACE POP!] SR: Dane raised his knees up and nailed LeMaster right in the tailbone! Ouch, that had to hurt both men. [LeMaster screams out in pain as Eric clutches at his knees, both men down and in need of a tag.] SR: Now it comes down to who can get to their corner first. [The crowd is cheering Dane on while DAVE yells words of encouragement to LeMaster. Both men begin crawling over to their corners.] SR: Surprisingly Rockwell is closer than Dane. He's reaching up and YES! He tagged DAVE in. [Heel pop as DAVE comes in, suddenly a large face pop comes up with the tag in of Walker.] SR: DANE GOT IT TOO! DAVE and Walker are back in the match and here we go! [Walker rushes towards DAVE, hitting him with a kick to the midsection.] SR: DAVE's doubled over again. Walker's got him locked in a front face lock and spins around with a neckbreaker! [DAVE clutches at his neck while Tyrone goes for the quick cover.] SR: Another cover! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRKICKOUT!" [Heel pop!] SR: Another kickout from DAVE. He's taken a pretty large amount of punishment tonight as Walker's unleashed an impressive array of backbreakers and neckbreakers. [Tyrone picks DAVE back up, meanwhile on the outside Rockwell LeMaster has gotten down from his spot on the apron and is walking towards Eric Dane.] SR: We've got action inside the ring here folks but it looks like LeMaster wants some more of Eric Dane! [Dane jumps down from the apron as well, turning and meeting LeMaster half-way, the two begin trading punches!] SR: Brawling is going on outside and inside Walker is lifting DAVE up in a vertical suplex position! [DAVE kicks his feet and pokes Walker in the eye, allowing him to go behind Tyrone.] SR: DAVE with an eye poke and Tyrone is stunned, hunched over. The referee is trying to keep an eye on what is going on inside the ring while these two men fight on the outside! [Dane and LeMaster start laying into one another with chops.] "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" [As the crowd cheers, DAVE takes quick advantage and rolls Walker up schoolboy style, pulling at the tights _AND_ putting his feet on the ropes. The referee doesn't see either.] SR: NO! THIS CAN'T END LIKE THIS! DAVE'S GOT THE TIGHTS AND HIS FEET ON THE ROPES! HERE'S THE COUNT! [While the referee counts, we continue hearing the chopfest going outside.] "ONE!" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "TWO!" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "THREE!!!" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" "*SMACK!*" DING DING DING! [Dane's chest is beet red, as is LeMaster's with the massive amount of chops coming from both men. DAVE celebrates in the ring, then slides to the outside. Walker is kicking at the ropes in frustration.] RA: Your winners... the team of... ROCKWELL LEMASSSSSSTER AND THE GREEEEEEAT DAAAAAAAAAAAVE! [HEEL POP CITY, YO!] SR: Rockwell LeMaster and The Great DAVE pulled off a sheisty one! It took every cheating trick in the book but they beat Team Danger! This has to record as a big upset. [LeMaster cringes as he wipes at his hamburger meat of a chest. DAVE mocks them, laughing and pointing as the pair stare hatefully from the ring.] SR: This isn't over. [Dane screams out, over everyone "THIS ISN'T OVER!"] SR: See? [The pair finally vanish behind the ring curtain, the fans turning from booing them departing to cheering Team Danger as they step out, talking between each other, absent mindedly high fiving other fans as they leave as well.] SR: What a CRAZY way to start the show! The champ, Johnny Malibu came out, interrupted by Eric Dane and he is jumped by The Great DAVE and Rockwell LeMaster. Insanity is reigning here in the Rave and it's only the beginning of the night. Right up next we have Elvis Sunday taking on Hantu Penyardin, a match I am REALLY looking forward to. The main event is HUGE with a capital H, U, G and E. Matt Corwin will get his much deserved shot at Tobias Chapel Smith and this match is a long time in coming. Tobias made himself the special referee on the New Years show in Corwin's match against the now retired Bucky Blutarski and of course you saw them go at it in the Rumble. These two have issues and they will... _will_ be settled here tonight! [Backstage at the Rave, we have the hustle and bustle of tonight's festivities going on around the camera. Video and sound production run around like chickens with their heads cut off, looking for another wrestler to get a vignette from. Cheap finger foods, chips, and gatorade line the catered table as people slowly walk by, grabbing something to snack on while doing so.] [Leaning with his back towards the wall is Messiah, his head is down and he doesn't even seem to notice the camera in front of him. He's wearing a black wife beater, blue jeans, and combat boots, with brown hair that has grown just a bit more than last week. With his head down, we can't really make out what he is doing. The only sounds we hear is a very loud sigh, heaving Messiah's body up and then down quickly.] [Slowly, he rises his head, torment etched across his pale face. Seeing the camera, he becomes a bit wide-eyed and crazy- looking. As fast as he can, Messiah jumps to his feet, obviously startling the cameraman who jumps, causing our view to rise quickly. Without a word, Messiah begins walking away.] [The cameraman wants something though obviously, as he scurries behind, trying to keep up. Messiah's pace becomes a little more brisk, he walks with his head down, mumbling to himself at too low of a pitch to be heard. Turning his head to the left as he makes his way through the area, Messiah does a sudden stop, almost causing the cameraman to run into him.] [With a quick look towards the camera, we see that Messiah's mood hasn't brightened in the least. Seeing the anger in his face, our trusty cameraman back pedals a few steps and away from him. Messiah turns back to what caught his eye and we pan over....] [Seeing the poster for tonight's show. NEO-International Presents... is highlighted over the top and NEXT Wrestling...LIVE FROM THE RAVE! at the bottom, but just looking at the poster you can see what stopped Messiah dead in his tracks. Grinning a monstrous shit-eating grin stands Johnny Malibu, a designer shirt covering his torso and the NEXT Wisconsin State Title draped over his shoulder. Messiah yells out at the poster and in one swoop, tears the poster off the wall. Crumpling and tearing it up, Messiah throws the remains to the ground and walks away, angrily. We fade from here back into the arena. The ringside empty of wrestlers, the ring announcer steps into the ring. His name is so long we dare not repeat it. Many audience members mock him as he gets in. He ignores him. He's good like that.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is scheduled for ONE fall! [The opening laid back but never the less funky guitar riff of 'Sunday Shining' by Finlay Quaye comes up over the P.A. system as 'The Flyin Hawaiian' Elvis Sunday himself steps out through the entrance curtain in a bright as heck orange surf shirt and black boardie shorts. On his arm, and towering over him is the gorgeously blonde Happiness in a pink two-piece bikini with a white shirt covering her top.] # Make It # Sun is shining # Weather is sweet yeah # Makes you want to move those dancing feet # Uh Here I am # Want you to know now that here I stand [Elvis jives to the ring slapping as many hands as he can as Happiness dances beside him, he hops up the ring steps and opens up the ropes for Happiness to step through, which she does, bending down as far as possible to a CRAZY WILD drunken New Years Eve pop... only it's not New years so never mind. Elvis clasps a hand on his heart before springing over the top and running against the ropes, stepping on each one before springing himself over the head of Happiness who has by now unbuttoned her shirt.] RA: And his opponent... [A slow, rhythmic strumming of guitar casts an eerie tone throughout the venue.. only to be trumped by unison chanting!] #Ahhhh-Ah-Ah# #Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-ah-ah-ah# #Ahhhhhh-Ah-Ah# #Ah-Ah-Uh# [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.] DING DING! [Hantu doesn't waste any time. He _sprints_ across the ring with incredible speed, attacking the unsuspecting and surprised Sunday with a flurry! Sunday reels but the Malayan Vampire is there with a throat thrust... then another!] SR: A third shot right to the throat! Hantu Penyardin made his NEXT debut in fiery fashion and is starting this match in explosive fashion... EYE GOUGE! He is a 198lb monster! [The referee warns Hantu... whatever good that will do.] SR: Don't get too close to him! he... HE IS JUMPING ON ELVIS SUNDAY AND BITING HIM! [The crowd reacts loud, though with quite the mixed reaction! Many 'gore' fans like it, a lot of the older school crowd booing like good little fans. The referee is right in there this time, Sunday stumbling back towards the corner, dabbing his forehead, looking for blood (thankfully!) not there... yet.] SR: Elvis Sunday needs to get out of there and do something quick. He can't let Hantu Penyardin keep on him like this, not at this pace. He'll never be able to get anything off and he'll sink himself! [He tries to get up by The Malayan Vampire, the Top Knotted Assassin is right in, laying in a kick to the chest, sitting Sunday upright!] SR: What a kick! He rocked... "THWAAAAAP!" SR: RIGHT IN THE FACE! [There's never been a more 'dickish' kick.] SR: In the face! In the goddamned face like he was a cat toying with a mouse. If you're going to finish this, just finish it already, Penyardin. Just... oh great! Now he's choking him! [And blatantly too, both hands wrapped clear around Sunday's throat. The poor orange haired cult favourite kicks and struggles but Penyardin is vicious, relentless... ...even kicking Sunday as he is pulled away by a very angry (albeit scared) referee. He snarls, pausing as the crowd gets on his case whole heartedly.] SR: He's not some homeless person! You can't treat him like this! What's next, Hantu? Gonna burn his car down? Oh... wait... if he's homeless he wouldn't have a car and beating up homeless people in their cars is too lame even for this lunatic. [Penyardin warns him away with just a look, grabbing the front of Sunday's head like a basketball and ramming it into the turnbuckle. AGAIN the referee pulls him away... and has to actually run for his life this time.] SR: Referee's, wrestlers, cars, it doesn't matter! Hantu Penyardin will go after anyone, including a very beat up Elvis Sunday who [BIG POP!] IS FIGHTING BACK! HE IS FIGHTING BACK AND FIGHTING BACK WITH A VENGEANCE! [The crowd is on their feet as Sunday comes alive, fighting back wildly. Penyardin is staggered and stumbled... ....but STILL catches Sunday with a koppo kick as he comes off the ropes! DISAPPOINTMENT POP!] SR: DAMN! Elvis Sunday had him on the rocks but Penyardin stopped him right dead in his tracks... [HEEL POP!] AND STARTS BITING HIM AGAIN! JESUS CHRIST! [He really digs in, Sunday screaming in protest... fans screeching in disgust! He finally quits... spitting aside, emotionless.] SR: I... I don't even know what to make of this guy! He's absolutely insane in the ring, moving at a fevered pitch.. but then goes and bites a guy's head and is completely detached emotionally from the whole experience. What gives?! [And gets up, stomping the poor guy in the chest.] SR: Another stomp and... a stomp with BOTH feet! He is just PUNISHING Elvis Sunday right here tonight. [Sunday is gasping for air as Hantu pulls him up by his orange 'fro, putting him against the ropes. He fires him off with an Irish whip but Sunday ducks an elbow, comes off the other side...] SR: CAUGHT! [GASP!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" SR: Spun out into a sit out facebuster! Whaaaaaatamove! [And he rolls Sunday over for a cover!] ONE! TW--KICKOUT! [POP!] SR: The crowd is certainly behind this young man, this up and coming star but he is down and Penyardin is up... [POP!]... MISSES A LEG DROP! [Moreso Sunday rolled out of the way!] SR: Sunday up... dropkick to Penyardin's stomach! [Penyardin doubles over, trying to straighten up... and gets another two feet planted right in the same spot! BIG POP!] SR: Elvis Sunday is getting his wind back, getting that second wind he will need if he wants to win this match... KNEE LIFT! [And now The Malayan Vampire is standing straight up... ...only to be put back down! POP!] SR: HIGH LEG LARIAT TAKES HIM DOWN... COVER! ONE! TWO! [BOOO! Penyardin kicks out, pushing Sunday off. He immediately goes to get up... met with a big overhand chop! WHOOOOO!] "SMACK!" WHOOOOOOO! SR: And ANOTHER overhand chop by Elvis Sunday! This guy has spunk and he has fight, taking all of it right at Hantu Penyardin! [With Penyardin reeling he keeps coming back, punching... and lashing out with a headbutt... ...which is no sold.] SR: Some buddhist monk iron skin trick! [Hantu just stares... and strikes out with his own... ...and it's no sold! Sunday smirks widely, cocking an eyebrow as he points to his rather boisterous and colorful afro. POP/LAUGHTER!] SR: HA! Penyardin is taking his own medicine... [HEEL POP!] SR: DOUBLE THRUST TO THE THROAT! ELVIS SUNDAY IS DOWN! [Or at least stunned, allowing Penyardin to scoop him up for a body slam... ...only Sunday slips out behind!] SR: SCHOOL BOY! [SHOCK!] ONE! TWO! TH--KICKOUT! [HOW CLOSE WAS THAT?!] SR: He almost had him, both men scrambling back up. Sunday ducks a swing, off the ropes and... caught... NO! SPINNING HEADSCISSORS AND HANTU PENYARDIN IS SENT OUTSIDE! [Elvis is right back on his feet... along with the crowd... charging! He runs right at Penyardin... who quickly steps aside and out of the line of fire. Sunday runs but catches himself at the last minute, vaulting the ropes like a ladder and backflipping off the top and into the middle of the ring. He smiles, cups his chin and gives a big thumbs up to a TREMENDOUS ovation!] SR: Don't let your attention off him yet, Elvis! He's still in... here he comes! [But Elvis sees him and almost comically steps aside, throwing Hantu over the top rope and to the floor! BIG POP!] SR: Too bad this wasn't a week ago! [Penyardin hits the floor rather hard but manages to struggle back up... right into a baseball slide from Sunday!] SR: Right into the railings goes Penyardin and now, _now_ Elvis Sunday is on a roll! I have to say, this guy has spunk, excitement, style, charisma. He is going to be a HUGE star sooner then later, I am putting my money on it right now. [And while bets are being wagered, Sunday is back up and on the apron. He stands, facing into the ring, looking back as the former monk gets to his bare feet. Penyardin does... slowly, back arched in pain. Look up, Penyardin, look waaaaaaayyyyyyy up.] "THUUUNNNNNNGH-SMASSSSSSH!" [HUUUUGE POP!] SR: A TWISTING SENTON FROM THE HEAVEN'S THEMSELVES SENDING BOTH CRASHING INTO THE RAILINGS! [And Sunday bouncing off Penyardin and over the railing, into the crowd. That explains the pop... and the chants.] 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! SR: Couldn't have said it better myself. That was crash _and_ burn! [And they continue to stay crash and burned. Sunday, cushioned by the laps of several fans, is the first up, vaulting over the railing and to ringside. A quick breath and check of his afro (still orange!) and he's picking up Penyardin, grabbing him by the wrist.] SR: Elvis Sunday and Hantu Penyardin are having an absolutely exciting match right now, Sunday on top with an Irish whip right at... MY TABLE! [But it's reversed!] "CRAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [Sunday hits the table... back first... right into the edge, actually cracking a large chunk... and screaming in pain! He drops down to his knees, gritting his teeth, arching his back and grunting in agony.] SR: Holy sonuva... he broke the table and man alive, he could be in trouble! The edge of the table hit right into his spine, HARD! Trust me I was just feet away, I saw it. The table is actually broken from it! It is cracked and splintered. Imagine the force he must have hit with! [Penyardin cares not, stalking right back in. He looks at Sunday, surveying the damage... and then takes that very same broken piece of table... ...trying to stab it into Sunday's head, the poor guy fighting, holding Penyardin's wrist for dear life!] SR: He's going to take his eye out! [PANIC POP!] SR: He is trying to actually disfigure this poor guy... and Sunday with a kick to break it! Penyardin drops the table... THROAT THRUST! [Sunday collapses against the ring, choking and sputtering. Penyardin easily rolls him in, crawling in, snake like, after.] SR: Hantu Penyardin in and... off the ropes... SOMERSAULT SENTON! [The crowd actually pops as he rolls right back to his feet.] SR: Up and... STANDING MOONSAULT--ONTO THE KNEES! [FACE POP!] SR: Sunday got his knees up! This might be his chance... that is if his back isn't broken from hitting my table! [It might be slow but he gets up, crawling on the ropes to do so. He stumbles over, laying in a punch to Penyardin's forehead before pushing him against the ropes and grabbing his arm.] SR: Irish whip... [Not shockingly reversed! Penyardin ducks, standing back up as Sunday handsprings forward, bouncing upside down off the ropes and back towards Penyardin! He lands on his feet, immediately springing up and onto the shoulders of the Malayan, sitting. A quick spin up there... ...and he hits a LIGHTNING FAST hurricanrana, reaching back and grabbing the legs for the pin! BIG SHOCKED POP!] SR: WHAT A HURRICANRANA AND... ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [DAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN CLOSE!] SR: THREEEEE--NO! NO!! HE KICKED OUT! HOLY CRAP, HOW MUCH CLOSER CAN YOU GET THEN THAT!? [The fans certainly can't get closer to the edge of the seats then they are now. The place is in a tumult at the nearfall, Sunday grasping his head in disbelief. He looks at the referee, eyes wide, before going back to Penyardin... ...who from out of nowhere goes low, kicking him in the knee!] SR: DROPKICK TO THE KNEES! [BOOOOOO!] "THWAAAAAAP!" SR: AND TO THE FACE! [MIXED POP! Sunday goes down and hard, Penyardin helping none by throwing him out of the ring between the ropes and to the floor!] SR: They are back in the land of the Malayan Vampire. Night has fallen and he's about to feee--EEEED! [The screech comes as Penyardin charges in... Sunday ducking and lifting him up, dropping him face/head first on the railings with a sick "THUNK!" of bone on steel! The crowd pops BIG for the brutality, Penyardin limping away, a trickle of blood pouring from broken skin.] SR: Penyardin is no stranger to blood and no stranger to violence but any blood has got to be disconcerting if not down right dangerous. It could drip into his eyes, impede his vision and if bad enough weaken him! [Sunday seems not to care and stays on the offensive while he has it. Blood getting on him, he sticks Penyardin in a front face lock and lifts him up, depositing him stomach first across the railing!] SR: Elvis Sunday as Hantu Penyardin on the rocks in a big way. He... he hops onto the apron again, maybe looking for some kind of... here he comes! [He runs straight across the apron and off, spinning backwards as he leaps forward... "CRUUU-UNNNNNNGH!" ...with a shooting star press right onto the back of Penyardin. Car... wreck... city!] SR: HOL-YYYYYYYY CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP! [Let'em have it!] 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! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! [The bodies collapse to the floor, Sunday clutching his midsection, Penyardin his spine and gut as well. The crowd is on their feet, fists pumping. Almost no one in the place is sitting. Actually... _no one_ is.] SR: What a night this has been! WHAT A DAMN NIGHT AND IT'S NOT OVER YET! [NUTS! The camera actually picks up the first glimpse of Happiness, not at all living up to her name. Tears well in her eyes as she looks on in drastic concern.] SR: A shooting star press off the APRON and right across the spine of Hantu Penyardin as he was draped across that ring barrier. If Elvis Sunday isn't suicidal, I don't know WHAT he is! [The cheers must really be invigorating as Sunday is up, high fiving screaming fans as they yell "YOU DA MAN!" and "ORANGE CRUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSH!" and other various weird and lame things. He pumps his fist, rolling Penyardin in, slipping in himself.] SR: COVER! THIS HAS TO BE IT! ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT! OHHHHHHH!] HAPPINESS: EL-VIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS! [She slams the mat, screaming out her man's name. She's hot, people can't help but join in!] EL-VIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS! [Elvis gets right back up, smiling at the chants. Penyardin, meanwhile, has rolled over so Sunday takes a stroll... right across his body!] SR: WALKING THE PLANK! [He keeps walking, stepping onto Penyardin's head and right over... leaning over and kissing Happiness on the cheek.] ELVIS: HAWAIIAN HANG OVER! SR: He's calling for it! He's calling for his move, that tornado rocker dropper he does! [And he goes for it, Penyardin in a side headlock. He runs towards the turnbuckles... ...pushed off and hard against!] SR: Penyardin escaped and... [He scoops him up from behind, ala a bodyslam... ...and then sits out!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDD!" SR: A BACKWARDS MICHINOKU DRIVER?!?! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! [Snarling in barely self contained rage, Penyardin gets up, baring his fangs. He stalks around the ring, snorting, chest heaving. Sunday remains flat on his stomach, The Malayan Vampire up into the corner, to the second turnbuckle and leaps off!] SR: SPLASH ACROSS THE BACK! [GODDAMN!] SR: And he STILL isn't going for a pin, he... [THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!] ...HE IS SMASHING SUNDAY'S FACE BRUTALLY INTO THE CANVAS! Hantu Penyardin is trying to end poor Elvis Sunday's career right here in the Rave! [Sunday remains lying face down on the mat, clutching his face and head.] SR: What is he... he's taking the belt off his gi and... is he wrapping it around Sunday's body!? [BOO!] He is! HE IS! He is tying the body of Elvis Sunday up... [And smacks him for good measure... and to slow the resistance before finishing it up, leaving enough to hold.] SR: He's locking in some kind of Indian Deathlock here, facing the same way but... [Scottie stops, watching on as Penyardin pulls Sunday up backwards, way up... then puts a foot into his back and pushes down!] "THUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMP! [OHHHHHHHHH HEEL POP!] SR: CURBSTOMP! A CURBSTOMP OF EPIC PROPORTIONS AND THAT MAY BE ALL IT TAKES TO FINISH THIS! [The belt comes undone as it lands, Penyardin watching stoically.] SR: THantu is in complete control, a snake about to wrap itself around it's prey and finish it for once but... he's no wrapping! He's off and... [Leaps off the middle rope, flipping backwards...] "THUMMMMMMP!" SR: HE MISSED! HE MISSED THE ASAI MOONSAULT! [BIG POP!] SR: Sunday is up and... [THUUUD!]... HE HITS HIS OWN! WHERE DID HE GET THAT FROM!? [FACE POP AGAIN! Sunday catches his breath, holding his neck and stomach as he leans against the ropes. Penyardin starts getting up so Sunday is there on him, grabbing him and pushing him to the ropes. He goes for an Irish whip, Penyardin reversing that.] SR: Springboard crossbody... CAUGHT! [GASP! Penyardin lifts him up onto his shoulders only Sunday slides farther, wrapping both of the Malayan's arms up!] SR: Crucifix [THUD!] DRIVER! HE SPIKED HIM! [HEAD DROPPAGE!] SR: HE'S GOT HIM! ONE! TWO! THR--KIIIICKOUT! [DISAPPOINTED POP!] SR: He is on a roll! Happiness is out there, cheering him on and he's up! Elvis Sunday is back up! [Still hurting, but back up... as is Penyardin! Sunday sees him and runs right at him, ducking down as he runs, flipping up his body into almost a rana position, only to readjust and grab the head!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [BIG POP!] SR: SAMURAI DDT BY SUNDAY! [And the cover again!] ONE! TWO! THRE-- [SO CLOSE AGAIN POP!] SR: Damn close, _DAMN_ close! [And he's right back up!] SR: Sunday to the corner... [And leaps off the middle rope in the corner... to the top...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP!" [HIGH SPOT POP!] SR: WHAT A SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT! MY GOD! WHAT A MOVE! [And still down, he grabs a leg, looking for better leverage on the cover!] ONE! TWO! THR--NOOOOO! [BOOOOOOO!] SR: WOW! This crowd is WHOLLY behind Elvis Sunday! They are cheering each and every nearfall and he is coming really, really, REALLY close to beating Hantu Penyardin right here tonight. Tonight... where a star is being born! [And he can tell! Despite breathing hard he moves with surprising energy, grabbing Hantu up and to the ropes.] SR: Irish whip and... TORNADO HEART PUNC--DUCKED! "THWAAAAAAP!" SR: HOOK KICK! HOOKING KICK BY PENYARDIN RIGHT TO THE FACE! [Sunday goes half down, more then enough time for Penyardin to slip outside and to the apron. He goes to springboard back in... slingshot maybe... but isn't fast enough as Sunday comes charging, leaping over him!] SR: SUNSET-- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK!!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" --FLIP ONTO THE FLOOR! HOOOOOOOOLY CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPOLA! [EXPLOSIVE SICK BUMP POP! Penyardin actually bumps on impact from the sit out style sunset flip turned powerbomb! The crowd is incredibly hot, cheering like mad!] SR: He's struggling! That took as much out of him as it did Penyardin! [He can barely lift Penyardin in, favouring a hip as he walks around at ringside, cheering fans urging him on, urging him to ignore the pain. He does, grimacing as he throws the Malayan Vampire under the bottom rope and in.] SR: He really banged himself there but hell, he hit the floor too PLUS had just taken a kick to the kisser. [Finally he rolls in... and goes for a pin... ...until he hears the LOUD ASS HEEL POP!] SR: What the?! What is going... What is he doing here?! [The camera switches to the entrance as The Great DAVE, alone, comes walking out, sauntering slowly. Sunday gets up, casting a furtive glance on the masked man, asking him why the hell he is here. DAVE just shrugs, pointing at his watchless wrist.] SR: The Great DAVE just wrestled a match! What is he doing out here and why right now? Wasn't what he did to Sunday at the Rumble enough? [Sunday still remembers it, yelling down at DAVE. DAVE keeps distracting him... distracting him from Hantu Penyardin who is getting up.] SR: Turn around, Sunday! This match isn't over yet! [Penyardin sneaks in behind, grabbing the back of Sunday's hair. He falls backwards, pulling his knees up and pulls Sunday's head right into them, like a lungblower/backcracker... to the back of the skull! SICK POP!] SR: Sunday is down and... "THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [...and he comes flying in with a leaping double knee to the back of the skull!] ...MALAYAN VIPER STRIKE! DAMN HIM AND DAMN THE GREAT DAVE! ELVIS SUNDAY HAD THIS! [Cover.] ONE! TWO! THREE! DING DING DING! [BIG HEEL POP!] RA: YOUR WINNER... ...HANTUUUUUU PEEEEEENNNNNNNNYYYYYYAAAAARRRRRRRRDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! [LOUD MIXED POP!] SR: A HUGE win for Penyardin and his stock is just getting higher and higher. Leaving Florida might have been the best thing he ever done! [Penyardin simply walks out of the ring. No beating. No berating. Nothing but a feral calm as he steps through the ropes, hopping off the apron and heading expressionless to the backstage area. Hoots and hollers following her, Happiness checks on her man.] SR: I can see why she has the name she does. Yowza. [Yes, her unmentionables are wonderful.] SR: That match was AMAZING... and we still got Matt Corwin and Tobias Chapel Smith ready to kill each other. Someone is getting burned alive! Let's hear... from the champ... wait! [The camera picks up a card table in the ring now with a cloth over top of it hiding something underneath it.] SR: Folks, the ring crew has just placed something out here in the ring and I don’t know what’s going on. This isn’t scheduled for tonight, and I... ["Let Them Eat Rock" by The Upper Crust begins to play.] SR: Well maybe this man can explain it. #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 last week. He does not come out alone though, as he is dragging a NEXT official by the front of his shirt out with him.] #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 pulls the ref out of his way and then demands he go to the ring. He then strikes a pose as if he’s waiting for a pyro explosion that’s never going to come. He looks around, reminding himself of his surroundings, with a disgusted look on his face before heading to the ring himself.] #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 and looks at the table. A slight smile comes over his face as he pulls out a mic and then turns to the crowd.] Detson: To the fifteen people in attendance here tonight, this would be the entertaining part of the show! [Detson takes a small bow as the crowd gives him heat.] Detson: So this is the way it’s going to be huh? The real star arrives and all the pretenders just fade away. [Detson smirks.] Detson: People always running their mouths, calling out this one and that one. It makes me sick! It took me two seconds of ring action to run Kinsey out of town. Obviously the prospect of losing to me wasn’t what Kinsey had in mind when he made all those baseless challenges to people who were never going to answer. Now I could have waited for two years of name dropping until he might have finally gotten around to calling me out, but I decided to take action and call him out on his little bluff! [Detson points to the crowd.] Detson: And call his bluff is exactly what I did! This is what you people call wrestling? Man this whole organization’s IQ is lower than the attendance here tonight! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU ARE BORING!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU ARE BORING!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU ARE BORING!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU ARE BORING!!! YOU’RE AN A**HOLE!!! YOU ARE BORING!!! [Detson looks a little upset at the chant.] Detson: Fine you don’t want to here what I have to say? Then I guess you don’t want to see me wrestle here tonight! [The chants die down a little.] Detson: Now I know I sad that I would never wrestle in a dump like this, but I’m starting to come around. That’s why right here tonight I’m calling out a bona fide superstar of the wrestling world and they have accepted my challenge and will be here tonight! [Anticipation pop, as Detson smirks.] Detson: I’m calling them out to show the world how it’s done! This wrestler has star power, he’s wrestled in a big named federation that I’m sure everyone is aware; this wrestler has beaten some top-notch stars that considered themselves legends! That’s right punk, you’ve been running your mouth and now I’m calling you out to see if you still got it! You think you’re a bona fide star of the past? One of the greats? Well I’m calling you out... [Detson casually walks over to the table and rips the cover off to reveal...] Detson: ...Watermelon!!! [Detson laughs as another huge heel pop comes from the crowd, as on the table is a watermelon.] Detson: Yes, it seems the crowd here remembers the dastardly tactics use used back in the day, and they aren’t too happy with you showing your face back in the ring. Now I know you’ve beaten people who considered themselves great, but you’ve never beaten Johnny Detson. So let’s see how good you really are! [Detson points to the ref.] Detson: Ring the bell. [The official begins to argue with Detson over the stunt he’s pulling, but a raised fist from Detson and the ref shrugs his shoulders and calls for the bell.] SR: This is ridiculous, Johnny Detson is going to disgrace himself and this organization by wrestling a piece of fruit? [Detson begins to stretch against the ropes getting ready for his match as the crowd continues to boo his actions.] [Detson begins to approach the table when suddenly he drops down to his knees and begs off an attack from the motionless piece of fruit. Detson back pedals on his knees to the corner before standing up again and laughing.] SR: This is ridiculous, someone needs to put a stop to this! Johnny Detson has hijacked the ring with this mockery and someone needs to shut him up! [Detson charges full speed at the table before stopping just sort of it. He looks down at the table and then to the crowd. Shrugging his shoulders he knocks the table over on its side, the watermelon falls to the canvas, which Detson stops with his foot. He then grabs the ref and demand he make the count.] SR: Johnny Detson is actually pinning a watermelon people!! ONE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TWO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THREE!!!! [DING, DING, DING] [Detson wipes the fake sweat off his brow, as he grabs the mic out of his pocket was again.] Detson: WOW!! That was really difficult! Now that, that’s out of the way... [Detson walks over and picks up the watermelon. He then throws it out of the ring and it explodes on the floor below.] Detson: Ladies and gentlemen, the star power portion of the show has now expired. Anything else after this point will be hardly worth watching. It has been your pleasure. [Detson plasters a cocky smirk across his face as he takes another bow to all the hatred he is getting. As his music starts back up he tosses the microphone behind him and then slides out of the ring.] SR: OH MY GOD! HE BEAT THE WATERMELON AND THEREFORE BY PROXY... MIKE SEBASTIAN! [A looooooooooong pause.] SR: I couldn't even sell that if I wanted. NOW let's hear from the champ!] [Fade to the back of the Rave. In this dark area one large figure looms and dominates most of the shot, it is the bowed head of the true NEXT Champion, Tobias Chapel Smith. A single light hangs down which really accents the champ's head, there are some scars which break up the short buzzed black hair on the top of his head, from the many shots he's taken over the years. His eyes are in a fixed glaze on something on the ground as he rushes his white taped hand over the top of his head. He speaks softly, and with his thick accent.] TCS: Word on the street says I dominated 'dat rumble... tossed out more guys then anyone else did, ended a couple of guys careers an' all 'dat other jazz. Yeah, lots of people are talkin' 'bout what I done... ...an' I couldn't give shee-ot, honestly. [Tobias still doesn't look up, but does shift about in the chair he sits in.] TCS: I don't care what I did, 'dats in the past now... I only care 'bout what I'm gonna do tonight, what I am gonna show to everyone on the roster, everyone in the crowd, an' everyone 'cross the wrestlin' world what happens when ya call me out. Corwin, 'dat was only yer first mistake. [Tobias holds up the USJP title and flips it over his shoulder. His eyes never leave the ground.] TCS: I remember hearin' a story when I was a kid 'bout 'dis rancher who lived jus' a couple of miles up the road, see 'round Perth we have a lil' problem with coyotes, an' there's really only one way to keep coyotes from attackin' yer livestock. Ya shoot'em when ya get the chance. Now, 'dis rancher got it into his head 'dat there was a second way to deal wit 'dem coyotes... when he got the chance, he wouldn't shoot'em he jus' tried to scare'em off... wave 'round the gun or some shee-ot like 'dat. Point is, it didn't work... 'dem coyotes kept comin' 'round an' drove 'dat bastard insane. [Tobias slowly looks up.] TCS: Yer second mistake Corwin... ya didn't pull the trigger when ya had the chance. Ya coulda probably finished me off when ya had 'dat brandin' iron up over my head, but ya probably thought there were 'nother way to take me out. Yer gonna find out, 'dat ain't gonna work. [There is a flicker of light. And slowly Tobias holds up the branding iron, full blaze with even some of fire dripping off to the ground.] TCS: Next time, when ya have a chance to shoot... ya better shoot. Well... then again, ya ain't gonna get a next time. [And with that, we fade to black.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen... this next match is Flaming Tables and Branding Iron Scramble match. The two participants will start on either side of the arena... [He points to the two aisles.] RA: When the bell rings they will race to the ring where a branding iron will be laid out for use. The only way to win this match... ...IS BY PUTTING YOUR OPPONENT THROUGH A FLAMING TABLE! [HUUUUUUUUUUGE POP!] RA: And this match? It is for... THE NORTH EASTERN JISATSU CHAMPIONSHIP! [Awwwww yeah. It's go time!] RA: Introducing first... the challenger! [The lights go dim as the opening riffs of AC-DC's " Thunderstruck" begin to blast over the P.A. System.] # I was caught In the middle of the railroad track (Thunder) I looked round And I knew there was no turning back (Thunder) My mind raced And I thought what could I do (Thunder) And I knew There was no help No help from you (Thunder) # RA: He from the great state of Texas, and weighs in at 286 pounds. He is the "Redneck from Rock Springs"...the number one contender to the Northeastern Jisatsu Championship... He is... "KOWBOY"... MATT CORWIN!!!!" [Matt Corwin emerges to a LOUD pop, looking ready for war! He is dressed in a Black Stetson and jeans with a black NEO International t-shirt. He stalks down the aisle, circling the ring.] # Sound of the drums Beatin' in my heart The thunder of guns (yea!) Tore me apart You've been - Thunderstruck # [Reaching the other side he goes down the aisle made for him, reaching a wall and stopping. Then... he waits.] RA: And his opponent... [No music.] [Silence.] [Slowly, inexorably Tobias Chapel Smith enters the venue, standing atop the entrance ramp. An official awaits him there, telling him to stop. He stares right across the building, across the cheering faces, across the ring, and right at Corwin.] DING DING! [POP!] SR: HERE WE GO! [And by go he means the two take off lumbering down the aisle. Corwin is faster, spurred on by cheers perhaps. He slides in as Smith reaches ringside... grabbing a chair as he does!] SR: Corwin is getting into the ring! He is going to get the branding iron first! That is his weapon of choice, it is... [CHAIR!] "CRAAAACK!" [BIG POP!] SR: DOWN! Tobias Chapel Smith just HURTLED a chair at Corwin's head! Dear lord! [Corwin doesn't go down but he does stumble backwards, arms up as Smith gets in... ...only to be tackled right down!] SR: It's a fight! It's a wild brawl in there and... Corwin is going for the branding iron... stopped by Smith! [Smith crawls over him, looking for it but a well placed boot to the center of his chest pushes him away. One final lunge and Corwin's work worn hands clasp over the metal rod, bringing into his grip!] SR: Matt Corwin has it! He has his branding iron! This just means trouble for Tobias Chapel Smith! [Instead of shirking he gets right into the face of danger, ducking under a wild swing and grabbing Corwin. Legs moving him forward he charges at the ropes... ...and the two go right through them, falling to the floor! BIG POP!] SR: This match is going now! The two out on the floor and both Matt Corwin and Tobias Chapel Smith see the desperation of this situation. They NEED to get up and they need to get up now! [The Kowboy is actually the first up, a forward kick catching the kneeling Smith in the shoulder. He goes down, sitting, SCorwin winding up with a HARD right hand... and then a second!] SR: Listen to that! That is bone on bone right there, knuckle on jaw... another stomp! Matt Corwin is taking it to Smith, up on the apron... leaping off with a stomp! He wants the Northeastern Jisatsu Championship and he wants it bad! [And now? He's looking for it. "It" being the branding iron!] SR: I think... he saw it! He saw it on the floor and... he has it! [But again a Tobias Chapel Smith kick to the gut stops him from picking it up off the floor. Smith doesn't bother getting it himself, instead kicking it across the floor and down the ringside area where it stops just under the railing. He grabs Corwin, smashing a forearm into his back first, by the wrist and pulls him in... ...Corwin reversing and sending Smith into the ring post! POP!] SR: He hit hard, backing up and... Corwin grabs him by the head [POP!] SMASHING him into the post! [Blood! We got blood!] SR: THAT busted him open! Tobias Chapel Smith is bleeding first in this very dangerous match! Remember, there are no pins. This is a straight up fight, the only way to win by putting the other guy... through a flaming frickin' table! I can't believe they'd even sign on the dotted line for this one! We are talking career ending! [Smith staggers over, leaning on the railing. Fans sitting there stand up and move back, avoiding the blood very slowly dripping from his hairline. Corwin clobbers him in the back... only for Smith to suddenly shoot a back elbow in, lift and...] SR: CHEST FIRST! He landed right on the railing and [OH!] CLOTHESLINED OVER! [Fans are knocked over as the huge Matt Corwin comes flipping over, landing on and amongst them. Security rushes in, past arguing and angry fans, pushing them back even as they yell about getting smashed.] SR: Oh man. This isn't good! [Corwin pushes himself up on a chair. Tobias Chapel Smith has one. Raised up.] "KEEEEEEEERAAAAAACK!" [OHHHHHHHHH!] SR: INTO THE SPINE! "KEEEEEEEEERAAAAACK!" SR: AGAIN! [Corwin goes flat, Smith sticking the end of the chair back into his throat. The Kowboy struggles, flailing his legs... finally pushing the metal aside.] SR: This is the Tobias Chapel Smith we all know. Violent and nasty with a mean streak wide. He is in control, complete control [BOO!] and shows it, smashing Matt Corwin's head right off another chair... and he's taking him somewhere! [Somewhere being the back wall.] SR: They are going to wreck something I know it! These are two very big men. They carry a lot of weight and... [And Corwin is hurtled despite that weight, whipped...] "ZZZZT!" [...and a now broken soda machine, lights flashing off on impact!] SR: Can we even afford one of those?! [Security flanking them, keeping surging fans away, Corwin and Smith head around, past the machine and against the wall right above the balcony. The several fans standing up there scream down, cheering loudly and adding to the chaos.] "SSSSMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMASH!" [The chaos caused when Smith grabs Corwin and sends him _THROUGH_ the wall!] SR: HOLY... HOLY... HOLY CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP! [CHAOS!] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! [Corwin vanished into the wall space, a total darkened area. Smith roars triumphantly and starts walking back to the ring.] SR: You HAVE to put your opponent through a flaming table. He can not win this way but... oh wait. What a time to set up that table! He could go and set it up, get it ready to put Corwin through. He could have an easy path on the road to victor--CORWIN! [BIG FACE POP!] SR: HERE HE COMES AND KNOCKS SMITH DOWN! [Smith rolls across the floor, again kicking a fan. Even though an accident the angry fan tries swinging back, a burly security guard grabbing him and carrying him away.] SR: Things are getting out of control over there. The fans are starting to get unruly! [Grabbing Tobias Chapel Smith by the collar, Corwin heaves him up again, laying into him with a forearm that sends him staggering away towards the railing. Another one gets him there. Corwin stalks in and reaches over the table... grabbing the Northeastern title!] SR: He has the belt and... SMITH GETS A BOOT UP! [But Corwin doesn't go down!] SR: Charging... ANOTHER BOOT BY SMITH! [And still Corwin doesn't go down! He does stagger, nearly losing his footing. Tobias Chapel Smith gathers himself, finally charging in...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK!" [HUUUUUUUUGE BUMP!] SR: OH GOD! POWERSLAM ON THE CONCRETE! A GODDAMNED POWERSLAM ON THE FLOOR HERE AT THE RAVE! [The fans, all standing, are jumping and hooting and hollering. Corwin bounces off on impact, shaking his head as the exhaustion from lifting the three hundred pounder finally kicks in. Smith isn't moving so much.. minus the huge arch of agony in his back!] SR: That was absolutely insanely sick! Who can take a slam like that on the pavement?! [Apparently Smith can. He's already moving!] SR: This man is a juggernaut! Nothing can keep him down, nothing can stop him... "CRAAAAAAAAACK!" [DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!] SR: EXCEPT MAYBE THAT CHAIRSHOT! [Blood pools on Smith's head as he lays on the floor. Corwin looks down on him with disdain as the dented chair hangs unminded from his hand.] SR: MATT CORWIN MAY HAVE ENDED TOBIAS CHAPEL SMITH'S TITLE RUN RIGHT THE--you have got to be kidding me! [The crowd is in AWE, going nuts and clearing space as Smith climbs first to his hands... then to his knees... and then starts pushing himself up. Corwin looks on, shocked.] SR: He's getting up! Tobias Chapel Smith, his face a BLOODY mess, is getting back up to his feet! He can barely stand, but he is getting up! [Corwin immediately shoves the chair into Smith's gut, taking several steps back. He signals for a knee and runs back in, full tilt... ...only Smith doesn't stay bent over.] "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHAHSHASHAHSHAHSHAHSH" SR: A BACK BODYDROP INTO THE RINGSIDE SEATING AREA! CHAIRS ARE EVERYWHERE! BODIES ARE BROKEN! THIS IS MADNESS! [The fans certainly think so, moving around to the side the two are laying on. Smith wipes his face, running his fingers along his clothes, leaving bloody trails. Corwin lay tangled amongst a veritable jungle of broken and smashed chairs, his body up and down all over.] SR: Matt Corwin is out! He is _out_ for sure and right now, right here, Tobias Chapel Smith has free reign to do whatever he pleases and it is... [He gets up and heads to the destination about to be revealed.] SR: He is headed to the ring, more specifically to a table at ringside! That could be the one he lights on fire and puts Matt Corwin through. I hate to say it but we could very well be seeing the end of someone's career and right now that someone is Matt Corwin. [Smith stalks away, pushing yet another fan out of the way. This one has the where with all to not fight back, except verbally. More security comes in, including a couple unnamed NEXT backstage guys. None look happy at all with the growing situation. Smith ignores it all, moving right to the table as Scott suspected.] SR: He has that table and slides it into the ring... and he's going back after Corwin! He knows the rules! [The referee reluctantly follows as Tobias Chapel Smith heads back into the surging crowd.] SR: Back into the mouth of madness we go, Matt Corwin actually detaching himself from all that steel wrapped around himself... but Tobias is on him. We're going back to the ring folks! [Extricating Corwin, Smith starts moving him back towards the ring. A heave and he goes over the railing and to the floor.] SR: Tobias Chapel Smith has this match WELL in hand, even if he is favouring one side of his hip. That powerslam could have DESTROYED him but he got up... and then took a chair shot and kept going. What a monster and the monster is loading Matt Corwin into the ring! [Said monster joins back into the fray, entering the ring. He goes to step through... and is attacked! Corwin desperately fights back, throwing Smith into a corner as he keeps his assault on!] SR: Big right hands are being delivered! We are talking pistons here and... knee by Smith to turn the tide! [A quick scoop and a thud and Corwin is dumped onto the flat table. Smith hits the ropes...] SR: LEG DROP! His head bounced off the table... another! [HEEL POP!] SR: Talk about pure domination. There are sixteen very relieved men knowing that Tobias Chapel Smith is not in the NEO International World Title tournament. He would HAVE to be an odd on favourite to win! [Smith doesn't give another leg drop. He slides out and looks under the ring... GIANT POP!] SR: LIGHTER FLUID! [The crowd grows even louder as he brandishes it up high for all to see. He slides back in as Corwin rolls off the table.] SR: He's dumping it on the table! He is dumping it all on the table! All that lighter fluid... he's going to burn this place down! He is going to burn the Rave down! [A referee and a couple unknown men appear with fire extinguishers... just in case.] SR: He is setting it up. He has to have it on it's legs if he wants to put Corwin THROUGH it. [Finally getting it up on all legs, Smith moves to find Corwin... only to find he has rolled out of the ring. He reaches over to get him... "CRUNK!" ...and gets a title belt across the head! COMEBACK POP!] SR: There will be MORE blood but that's not even the worst of it! He just got hit with his own belt. His very own title could be his very own downfall. [Smith rolls back, holding his slightly bleeding forehead as Corwin gets slowly in... only to be stopped with a stomp to the back. Smith stomps him again... and again... and again... going nuts on poor Corwin, finally relenting with a roar! The crowd boos him vigorously, boos replaced by a HUUUUUGE POP as he pulls out...] SR: LIGHTER! HE HAS THE LIGHTER! [But instead of lighting the table like he very well could (and should!) he grabs Corwin with his free hand, digging a hand into his hair. He pulls him up violently, scooping him up and over his shoulder in a FANTASTIC display of power, especially considering the beating so far.] SR: HE HAS MATT CORWIN ON ONE SHOULDER, A LIGHTER IN ONE HAND... [He did anyhow...] "FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" [And like that the table is alight in a furious, violent gout of fire and smoke. The fans are shocked as they are loud, going balls out nuts. Security rushes over to the ring, the guys point their extinguishers up... ...and Matt Corwin slips out behind Smith!] SR: CORWIN IS OUT AND... KICK! [Standing headscissors!] SR: No way! NO WAY! [The fans gasp loud as he reaches down, grabbing Corwin's waist... ...and heaves upwards... ...way up.] "SMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHTUUUUHD!" [HARDCORE GIGANTO POP!] SR: POWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWERRRRRBOMBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB! DING DING DING! SR: HE DROVE TOBIAS CHAPEL SMITH, HE DROVE A THREE HUNDRED POUND MAN RIGHT THROUGH A FLAMING TABLE! OH MY GOD! OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWD! [THe fire extinguishers come to life in a cloud of white, drenching the ring and all in it. Everything vanishes from view as the cloud grows... the fire submitting.] SR: I CAN'T SEE A THING BUT WE DO... RA: YOUR WINNER AND... [Pause for dramatic effect and all.] ...NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW NORTHEASTERN JISATSU CHAMPION... MAAAAAAAAAAT CORRRRRRRRRRWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! [HUGE FACE POP!] SR: ANOTHER STAR IS BORN AND A NEW CHAMPION IS CROWNED RIGHT HERE IN THE RAVE!! [Officials fill the ring, checking on Tobias Chapel Smith, a mess of white foam, blood and burned clothes. Matt Corwin slumps down... re energized as he grabs the title belt.] SR: We crowned a new champion and on top of it... the new champion, Matt Corwin, beat Tobias Chapel Smith! That was a feat until today impossible but he did it and with a vengeance... and I have to say, in shockingly quick time! He may have been dominated for the eight or so minutes this match lasted but he came through when it mattered! [Smith is able to sit up, fans clapping for him. Corwin celebrates on the turnbuckle, raising his dirtied belt for everyone to see. A smile creeps wide across his face as he hops down and steps outside, high fiving excited fans.] SR: What a night here at the Rave! We saw Elvis Sunday and Hantu Penyardin put on a a star making match. We saw what could be a brewing war between Team Danger and the team of The Great DAVE and Rockwell LeMaster and we saw Eric Dane possibly set himself as the next challenger to Johnny Malibu's Wisconsin State Championship! It was a [Sorry to interrupt you, Scotty, but chaos is reigning. He's up. The champ. Oh, whoops, force of habit. The ex champ.] SR: TOBIAS CHAPEL SMITH IS UP! HE IS UP AND... CLOBBERS MATT CORWIN!! [The crowd turns insane as the charred Smith kicks Corwin yet again. A fan slaps his shoulder only to be pushed down! HEEL POP!] SR: Oh crap. Why did you do that Tobias! [The fan doesn't back down, the strapping young lad hopping the barrier and attacking Smith!] SR: SECURITY! [The Rave assigned security run in, removing the fan kicking and screaming. His friends try and join in and follow the same path! Smith ignores them and ignores all the screaming fans around them. Children run away, their parents ushering them far away from the action.] SR: We're going to have a riot! [Smith? He don't care! He just wants Corwin and grabs him by the back of the head... "CRRRACK!" ...smashing him face first into the railing, a torrent of blood gushing down his face!] SR: Come on! Someone stop this! "CRRAAAACK!" [And again!] SR: I can't take... I can't call this! This just is not right! "CRAAAAAAACK!" [And again, this one smashing Corwin directly against the nose. More blood pours as he slumps down on the floor. Smith starts stomping him even as the referee rushes over to grab his arm. Smith shoots a glare of doom and death down on him... hurtling him to the floor with ease! The crowd HATES on Smith as he pulls up Corwin, throwing him against the ring.] SR: He's tearing apart ringside, grabbing that barrier and... he's trying to tear it off! [And finally does get it, lifting it out of it's moorings. Fans pushing against it move back, Smith completely ignoring them all as he swings it around. They duck and run for their lives, swearing and yelling at the complete insanity developing in the Rave.] SR: What is he... he's laying it across the apron and railing! [Until an over eager and way to into it fan pushes the railing off the railing... prompting Smith to jump the barrier and go after him! His three hundred pounds easily bowl the fan over... security pouring in and pulling everyone apart. Then, the speakers come to life.] RA: THE SHOW IS NOW OVER! ALL FANS PLEASE VACATE THE PREMISES. SR: WHA... [Microphone cut out. Tobias Chapel Smith doesn't care. He gets back up, off a bouncer he fell on, going right back after Smith. A guard tries to stop him, a well placed punch to the forehead putting him down. Fans roar as they are escorted and pushed away, many escaping to watch the carnage developing! Tobias Chapel Smith grabs Matt Corwin, still bloody, eyes lolling. He puts the barrier back up and horizontal, lifting Corwin up onto the railing. He follows, grabbing him and lifting him back up on his shoulder... "CRAAAAUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCHKTH!" ...leaping off with a michinoku driver onto the railing! The support railing goes flying out from the pressure, sending them all down in a waterfall of bent steel and broken bodies!] HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! [Seriously, did you think a few security guards were going to keep two hundred fans at bay? They continue to cheer wildly, even as both Tobias Chapel Smith and Matt Corwin lay on the ground, beaten to near death. Referees come out to check on Corwin, holding back Smith as he gets back up, knocking back a nearby fan again. He gets up, moving towards the camera man only to knock him over. That camera turns to static. Cut.] [Black.] ================= DVD EXTRAS EXTRA 1: The Great DAVE EXTRA 2: Matt Corwin EXTRA 3: Elvis Sunday EXTRA 4: Hantu Penyardin EXTRA 5: Essential Collection Deluxe EXTRA 6: Tyler Lee =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 1 =*=*=*=*=*= [Scene opens to the oh-so-familiar NEXT logo banner in The Rave. Currently, it is merely an empty room, but shortly after, a door is heard opening and footsteps. Hiroshi walks in first, wearing his normal black suit, and after him comes The Great DAVE, also in a suit, but with his mask in place.] Hiroshi: So you've got it all planned out, right? TGD: Of course. You just tell them exactly what I tell you, OK? Hiroshi: Um...yeah, sure, that's what I always do! TGD: Good, I think we're on. [DAVE and Hiroshi position themselves in the middle of the picture. DAVE clasps his hands at his waist and looks at the camera.] TGD: Last time…for those fans who were smart enough to get off their asses and go see the best promotion in America without a TV contract, JAPW... [Hiroshi looks at DAVE.] Hiroshi: What?! TGD: ...remember, Trent Acid. It was his birthday, and he got a nice present. He got to pin me, 1-2-3. But the real thing that pissed me off wasn't losing to Trent, I have a lot respect for Trent, but the point of this interview is to [gestures to the camera] point out the fucking guys that pissed me off. Hiroshi: Ah...um...DAVE says, that...ah...OK. DAVE says that he and Mr. LeMaster had the Rumble well in hand, for those of you lucky enough to see his performance. He says that they had the Rumble well in hand until Elvis Sunday came in and spoiled their plans. Spoiled DAVE's plan of being a champion. This makes DAVE very upset. TGD: That decided to stick their noses in my business. Player hating sons of bitches, like I always say in my interview. Hiroshi: Um...DAVE says... TGD: You guys know if there was pussy [gestures slightly] around you'd be cock blocking the shit out of it. Just like that belt. You guys are trying to cock block me out of being the champion of JAP. [Hiroshi wipes his forehead with his handkerchief.] Hiroshi: DAVE says that Elvis Sunday stopped him from being the champion, and he would have been the champion if not for Mr. Sunday. TGD: I don't even really want to mention your names, guys, cause everyone's going to watch the tape, and all of you smarks on the internet are just waiting for something to happen. Cause when I get in the ring, with these guys, you seen them, they tried to drop me on my fucking head and they act like it's an accident. Oh by the way, sorry I didn't get up for your move, oh that's cool, you tried to break my neck! Hiroshi: Eh...DAVE says...DAVE says that Elvis Sunday had better watch his back, because DAVE is a very dangerous man who is feared by many people many places. He also says... TGD: [pointing] This time guys like I said last time [pointing] to Homicide, [puts his arms out to the side] where the fuck are you now?! [DAVE stands, looking at the camera, pausing awkwardly. He points again, then begins playing with the fly of his suit.] DAVE: ... Hiroshi: ... DAVE: ... Hiroshi: ...DAVE says that Elvis Sunday is afraid, and that's why he's not here now. He says that Elvis was so intimidated by him last week that he lost his match then and probably won't even show up to their match-up next week. TGD: You cannot stop, [points to himself] this man. You guys, there's three of you, I'm gonna mention the one, E.C. Negro. Been watching you for awhile, I had a feeling, your sneaky ass was gonna somehow snake your way up to the top, and there you are, [moves his fanny pack to the front, a fanny pack emblazoned with the words BURNING FANNY PACK] challenging the future king of professional wrestling! Hiroshi: Elvis Sunday, DAVE feels as though you have attempted to hotshot your way to stardom by picking a fight with him, as he is an international superstar, and you are a small, insignificant nobody. [DAVE randomly gestures with one hand all throughout his speech.] TGD: The only man that's got the balls to go on independent...fucking shows for you few fans out there, create a reputation! Street credibility! You guys think you're street? If this was a gang, who's your leader? E.C. Negro? That guy looks like a jackass leading a couple other fools up the hill. You guys, what happens when you get to the top? I don't hesitate! I jump with…no fear. Hiroshi: DAVE says that you may be a daredevil high-flyer, but he is also not afraid to do whatever it takes to defeat you. TGD: When I throw your asses off the top rope and you break your neck [clasps his hands, then puts them back on the pack], and I have no regret! Because you asked for it! You provoked me! So deal with your punishment! Don't be bitches. [DAVE pauses a moment.] TGD: Step in the ring. [pulls his fanny pack to the back] You guys know, Ted Hart, risks his life. [points and reaches for the fly but stops himself] I try to die every night I go out there, to prove a point. Certain guys get away with murder, cause the fans on earth need me. Wrestling needs me. Your parents need me to teach you little faggots a lesson. You won't soon forget. [DAVE stops pointing emphatically and talking so that Hiroshi can translate.] Hiroshi: DAVE says that he is a very important wrestler in the international scene, and Elvis Sunday is just a stepping stone. And Team Danger. You two are just in the way of what DAVE will ultimately achieve. The heavyweight title belt. TGD: I am the past, present, and future of professional wrestling. All you player hating sons of bitches want to be me, and all your women [he pulls the Burning Fanny Pack back to the front] want to see me. And when your kids meet me, I greet thee with a smile. cause there's sixty tapes out there now that shows Ted Hart does go the extra mile. E.C. Negro, be prepared, this is going to be a lesson you will not forget. God bless you. Thank you for having the balls to piss me off and create another feud wrestling won't forget. Hiroshi: DAVE is looking forward to dumping off Team Danger with Mr. LeMaster before getting his hands on that coward Elvis Sunday. This will not be a great encounter, as a great encounter requires two or more great men. It will be just another day at the office for the King of Sport. TGD: Might be time for me to have a little medicine. And get fucking crazy. [DAVE walks off. Hiroshi hurries after, off camera.] Hiroshi: Take off your mask! [Russling is heard.] Hiroshi: Oh good. Thought maybe it was Seth Kinsey under there. [Fade to black.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 2 =*=*=*=*=*= (Backstage at The Rave. After a hard-fought battle royal for the Wisconsin State Championship that saw Johnny F'n Malibu walk away with the title, "Kowboy" Corwin relaxes on a bench in the locker room and winds down with a six-pack of ice-cold Miller Lite. Dressed in a pair of black jeans, a Texas A&M football jersey with his name on the back, and his trademark black Stetson hat, Corwin raises a can of beer in a silent toast before pouring its contents down his throat and tossing the empty onto the floor.) CORWIN: "That one was for you, Bucky. "I don't know _how_ you could stomach the shit but you did...and, for that, I respect you." (Corwin stands up and turns to face the camera.) CORWIN: "As for the bastard who ended your career here in NEXT before it ever really got started... "Tobias, you can go around pretending you're the unstoppable force in this company but everybody here tonight knows the truth. You were eliminated from the battle royal just like me and twenty-something other guys in that ring and, on Sunday, February 12th, you're not going to fare much better when I beat you like the scraggly dog you are and take away your North Eastern Jisatsu Championship. "And I _will_ take away your title, Tobias, but not for me and not for Bucky Blutarski because I could care less about having a belt to prove what kind of man I am and Bucky knew what he was signing up for when he stepped into that ring on New Year's Eve. "No, when I beat you down next Sunday night and send your sorry ass straight to hell with the biggest fucking 'Sinkhole' the fans of NEXT Wrestling have ever seen, I'm not doing it for anyone in particular. "I'm doing it for the belt...because the North Eastern Jisatsu Title deserves better than to be worn by a man like you." (Corwin pauses as the cameraman asks him a question.) CORWIN: "My accent? "You mean that drawl I've been a'talkin' with since the day I first set foot in The Rave? "Hell, that was about as real as Wallace Storm's hair but it's the way my granddaddy talked and it fit the 'Kowboy' character to a tee. "But, on Sunday, February 12th, it's not some dumb redneck cowboy that's going to beat Tobias Chapel Smith. It's me, Matt Corwin... "The _next_ North Eastern Jisatsu Champion!!" (And, with that, WE FADE.) =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 3 =*=*=*=*=*= [From orange.] [To NEXT.] [To Elvis.] [Standing in front of the NEXT logo stands Elvis Sunday. 5’8 of tanned fuzzy-wuzzyness. He’s in street clothes, dark slightly flared jeans and a white T-Shirt with a peachy silhouette of Hawaii across the front. There’s a slight dent in his orange afro courtesy of a BRAINBUSTAH[~!] onto a ringside barrier as well.] “There’s not a huge helluva lot I can remember from the last time I was here in the Rave, Dave, just that you took a tumble in a rumble.” [Heh, that rhymes. Luckily, Elvis has a voice like a talented Phil Collins.] “I _can_ remember flying around the ring and making you look a fool though. Every second out in front of the NEXT fans seemed like an hour as I took my chance to shine with a Springboard here, a Moonwalk there. But then, zzzipt. I got nothing Dave. That’s what getting dumped ‘fro first onto a metal barrier will do for you.” [A slight upturn in his tone which was previously, and for the first time since joining NEXT, downbeat. He lifts a slightly fat finger up and taps the ball of his button nose. A smirk creeps across his cuddly-wuddly face.] “Still, at least I didn’t end up nose deep in Johnny Malibu’s Maliballs. Pungent much? That’s a memory you can’t knock out of my head Dave, that’s one I’m going to treasure for years. In fact, so far, that’s about the only thing you’ve done _worth_ remembering in NEXT.” [A pause.] “Tonight though, I’m going to go with the ‘fro and, after Team Danger warm the show up by CRUSHING[~!] Dave and Lemaster, it’s time for Elvis to _rock_ the Rave once again against a man who, as far as I can tell, lives in a cave and survives solely by eating leftover KFC. Or something else dark and mysterious. Whatever his dillio, it’s quite clear he needs some time in the sun and a good massage to work out all those awkward aches and pains that make him about as personable as Herpes. I’d recommend a trip to Hawaii Hantu old chum; even you might raise a smile on that Sunny isle. But you’ll need this...” [Unleash the blatant self-promotion as Elvis whips out a bottle of Bullfrog Scalp Bloc Suntan lotion, with a flick of a smile, we fade out.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 4 =*=*=*=*=*= Voice: Fire.. The mark of the beast, henceforth. [The scene fades in to the backstage locker room. It is dank, eerily so, as the lockers are a mix of chipped green-painted metal that reflect off the slow glow of the flickering, aging lightbulb above them. A single, equally-as-chipped wooden bench stretches across the center of the narrow row of lockers.. just wide enough for a smallish man to rest his bones.. and prep for war.] [And it is so. For there is a man sitting upon the bench.. his bronze-colored skin and bald head gleaming in the light.. as a circular puft of hair extends in a knotted ponytail from atop his bald skull all the way down his back. A very light-textured, brown robe rests opened across his upper torso.. extending down to his feet.. for which there are no boots, no shoes, just a pair of war-ridden human feet. That is how he wrestles.. that is how he prepares..] [Or should I say "it". For this is the beast known as Hantu Penyardin. His locked glare is not on the camera.. but seems to be extending outward and ahead, past the lockers.. to another realm altogether.. who really knows? But the presence of the camera is well-known to him.. for even though he does not engage in eye contact? He speaks.] Penyardin: Was it so much of a surprise, that when the lights dimmed low.. and sulfur filled the nostrils.. that I was the one to appear before you all? People should have seen it coming. Florida State Wrestling should have seen it coming. And those men in the ring? From the monster Tobias Chapel Smith right on down to the one they call Elvis Sunday? They should have seen it coming. [A slow roll of his neck erupts in a sound of crackling twigs.. as muscles extend and contract in a rapid and menacing pattern. But as loud as the popping could get.. it ends in quiet intensity.. as Hantu lets go of a rough, audible sigh.] Penyardin: But alas they did not. They did not heed the warning.. the unusual hair standing on the backs of their necks. For when you cannot see nor hear nor smell the beast that stalks you.. rest uneasily.. with one eye always open.. ..for it most surely has already found it's way into your sanctuary. [A short, concise snicker creeps in.. only to be replaced by the stoic expression oncemore. Never engaging the camera.. he still looks dead ahead..] Penyardin: So, it is NEXT.. is it? The battlefield for some.. the playground for others.. and the hunting grounds for the select few who understand what it means to survive at all costs. So, Elvis Sunday, I pose to you the simple question: What does this place represent to you? Your home? Your work? _Your_ sanctuary? Do you fight for honor? Glory? All things that are good in this great wide open space of humanity? Or do you fight to survive in the putrid yet substantial realities of human existance? [Silence. But only for a few moments..] Penyardin: For your sake.. I hope you fight simply to survive.. for it is the only way you shall do so when you step into the ring with me. You must trust me, for that is no hollow threat. That is no gross self-misconception. And that is no simple, ad-nauseam catchphrase. I was labelled the Malayan Vampire long before I ever stepped into a legitimate ring of war. And I will be labelled that in the story books.. as well as the history books.. long after I pass from this shallow orb. [A simple, concise, effective nod.] Penyardin: And the fable will be one of self-hatred, self-mutilation, and self-destruction.. but with a simple, poignant twist. For you see, as much as I loathe what I have become.. and as much as I would accept a change of lifestyle.. I long ago decreed this to be my fate.. to roam the lands a beast in search of blood and the ultimate self-sacrifice. [Another simple nod.] Penyardin: But I grow tired, Elvis.. and the blood on my hands has stained far too long ago.. and as it congealed.. the scent faded.. and so to did the desire to only hurt the one within. So this time.. the blood on my hands? Will be yours, Elvis Sunday. So fight for your life, Elvis.. fight for your own survival.. and perhaps, maybe.. just maybe.. the fangs of the vampire will not pierce deep into your heart. Perhaps you will live to fight again.. To test the laws of nature once more.. Perhaps.. But then again? [He finally looks at the camera. His eyes a darkened shade of brown.. scar tissue litters his forehead and cheeks.. his mouth open just enough to showcase the missing center top teeth. He lets the unsettling image sink in.. and then..] Penyardin: If you don't trust your instincts.. then trust in the shallow grave I shall lay unto you.. For it will become.. ..your final resting place. [Fade out.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 5 =*=*=*=*=*= [The scene opens to the NEXT logo banner background. Standing before it is "America's Next Top Superstar" Rockwell LeMaster along with Hiroshi and behind them, standing with his chest out, head tilted forward in the classic "Power Anger Stance" is The Great DAVE, the King of Sport. LeMaster wears a black shirt that is printed with the white letters "EC" inside of a large blue "D" which is imposed over a pair of red, jagged gashes, printed criss-crossed in an "X" and spanning the length of the shirt. Hiroshi wears his normal suit and DAVE is in his normal attire as well, the red towel around his neck.] RLM: So, we going to go get some tater tots or what? Hiroshi: I believe we're on. [He motions to the camera. DAVE stands with his arms held out exaggeratedly to the sides, breathing hard in silent, raging evilness.] RLM: Yeah-hah! That is what I am talking about! Anyhoo-- [Rockwell looks to DAVE, who's all stoic an' shit.] What's that? [As Rockwell tries to hand the mic to DAVE, DAVE shakes his head slightly. He does it again. Rockwell doesn't get the message. DAVE nudges Hiroshi, who hasn't been paying attention.] Hiroshi: He says, ah...he says... [DAVE shakes his head and tries to mouth something to them but his mask blocks his lips. Finally, he whispers to Hiroshi.] Hiroshi: He says cut it out, Rock, I'm the scary, silent foreigner, remem...ohhhhh. [Hiroshi gives the universal symbol for "STOP THAT!": the wiggly hand near the throat.] RLM: Wha? Uh, any... uh, anyway... tonight, in front of a capacity crowd of METHODISTS, and members of the Cult of DAVE, you are about to witness history, friends and whoa-mans. Because tonight is America's first taste of what several other countries in other parts of this great world of ours have witnessed, and that's "America's Next Top Superstar" Rockwell "The Method" LeMaster and King of Sport The Great DAVE teaming up, FINALLY, under the, uh, the... auspices... of... [He points to his shirt.] ESSENTIAL COLLECTION DELUXE! RLM: That, ah... that would be us. You see, because we are an essential collection of deluxe talent! You can't, uh, you can't have NEXT without a Rockwell and a DAVE; you can't. It'd be like having a breakfast burrito without Canadian bacon, AM I RIGHT? [Rockwell hands the mic to DAVE] DAVE: ... [DAVE pushes the mic to the side and whispers heatedly into Rockwell's ear.] RLM: I don't kn... I can't... I don't speak your language, DAVE. Hello!? Hiroshi! Help out a broth... or, er, what... I dunno, a gaijin? What would I be to you? Gaijin? Cajun? What? I dunno, but help me out, Panda Bear. [Hiroshi takes the mic with a look of disgust Rockwell's way.] Hiroshi: If you are incapable of doing this...*he sighs* I don't like to give the impression that I'm this stereotypical evil Japanese man, usually the businessman, but I do get paid for this, so... [Hiroshi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.] Hiroshi: People of America. Fans of NEXT. Look upon, if you will, the specimen standing behind me. He isn't quite a man, he isn't quite a machine, he isn't quite an animal, and he isn't quite a force of nature. He is all of these things in one package. [DAVE rolls his shoulders and breathes is deep, his body shaking with muscular tension.] Hiroshi: Back home, they begged me to take him with me to America, just to save the people there from his wrath. Now, I will inflict him on all of you! His anger, his rage, his violence, will become your pain, your suffering, your anguish. Team Danger...prepare...to be put... [DAVE steps to the mic.] TGD: *growling* IN DANGER! [Hiroshi, shaking his head and bowing slightly, apologetically to the camera, gives the mic back to LeMaster.] RLM: Team Danger. What a gay name anyway, right? More like Team LAMER, who's with me? Anyone? [Silence.] NEXT PERSON WHO SAYS I SUCK IS GONNA BE WEARING MY BOOT IN THEIR ASS! [Silence.] Team Lamer? No? [Hiroshi shakes his head.] RLM: You people are about to see an ass-kicking that's not just required viewing, oho no... it's.... [waits for anyone in the immediate area to finish the catchphrase that hasn't even been used once yet. He sheepishly brings the mic back.] ESSENTIAL! YEAH! [Fade out.] =*=*=*=*=*= DVD EXTRA 6 =*=*=*=*=*= [Backstage.] [NEXT newcomer Tyler Lee is standing in front of a backdrop with the NEXT logo plastered all over it. He stands up straight, his hands on his hips, adorned in his street clothes -- a pair of black leather pants and a short-sleeved button-up blue silk shirt. A blue, white, and black-beaded necklace is wrapped tightly around his thick neck, and a custom pair of Aviator sunglasses with metallic blue frames and silver mirrored lenses rest on the bridge of his nose.] [He tilts his head slightly to the side before he begins.] "So, here I am. I've finally made my debut -- if somewhat lackluster -- into the whacky world of NEXT Wrestling. I came, I saw, I got screwed by some guy who thinks *F'n* is still a cool thing to say. Oh, oh, I know. Don't get me wrong. The guy who took me out of the Rumble went on to win the whole thing, so I should be kind of proud, right? I got eliminated by the... [Finger quotes] 'best' NEXT has to offer. But I'm not proud. I'm not proud at all. Because I'm *better* than that. "I'm better than *you*, Johnny Malibu." [A sneer curls onto his lips.] "But don't you worry just yet, schmuck. I'm not trying to leapfrog my way to the top with some petty namedropping. I'm only calling you out because you, being the opportunistic coward that you are, eliminated me while I was trying to deal with someone else. In fact, you eliminated the two of us at the same time. And I don't blame you, really. How can I? You won the Wisconsin State Championship. So, bravo there, buddy. Good going. Have fun being a target and having to put up with everyone's A game. I hope you last. I hope you hold onto that title until I cut my way through the NEXT hierarchy. Then I can show you the difference between Tyler Lee in a Royal Rumble -- with all of the unknowns and variables that come along with it -- and Tyler Lee in a *wrestling match*. "When you see that, slick, just wait for the 'Wow Factor' to shoot through the fuckin' roof." [Reaching up, he pulls his shades down to the tip of his nose, winking into the camera with his emerald-greens.] [He pushes them back into place before continuing.] "But, like I sad, I was dealing with someone else when you decided to send us both tumbling to the floor. And that someone else? Matt Corwin. 'The Kowboy'. Now, I don't know why exactly you decided to pair off with me near the end of the match there, ya big bumblefuck. Maybe you thought I'd be easy pickings, since I'm the new guy. Maybe you saw that I was a little smaller than you, so I'd be easier to get over the top ropes than, say, Tobias Chapel Smith. Sure, why not? I'd be happy to hear you have that kind of ability when it comes to simple logic. But, as it stands, fatass -- keep in mind, I don't care what kind of build you have when I call you that, I'm just going to call you a fatass because you're a few inches taller than me and have a good forty to fifty pounds on me. Where was I? Right. Fatass. "What*ever* reason it was that you decided to come after me... I don't really care. And, as I said in the case of one Mister 'Irresistable Object', I'm not coming after you right away. I just want you to keep in that back of that big noggin of yours that I'm around, and you're already on my radar. Now, I'm not one to hold grudges..." [Trailing off, he gives a quick shake of his head.] "The *FUCK* I'm not. I don't care if your pairing off with me had anything at all to do with me getting eliminated from the Rumble. I could give fuckall. But I know I'm not exactly burning with momentum right now, and I'm still a rookie here in NEXT. So I'll just bide my time here, fella. I'll let you keep on being the 'good ol' boy' and do your thing. But you should know that we'll eventually cross paths. And you should *also* know that, no matter how big you are, I can break you down and tear you apart in a ring. You're a big tough guy, I get it. A rough and tumble Texan, sure. Size doesn't matter to me. Not one bit. Because I don't back down from anyone, and I'm *damn* good at what I do. "And if you think you can beat me, well... you won't be the first to make that mistake. Not by a long shut, fuckleberry." [He reaches up, yanking the glasses off his face. Getting in close to the camera, his eyes narrow to slits.] "NEXT, you're now officially on alert. The special attraction match is *over*. Now, it's time for the real wrestling to start. And, with it, my rise to where I belong: *the top*." [A derisive snort.] "Trust me." [Cut.] NEXT WRESTLING 2006