The cameras open up backstage before the show in a very narrow corridor with the focus on a concrete wall. We pan to the right to a view down one of the many hallways of the New Orleans Arena, as we see Jesse Williams off in the distance making his way straight for the camera.

Jesse is storming around , his eyes focused on the floor in front of him and his hands clenched tightly into fists. As he passes the camera he approaches a long narrow hallway adjacent to him, which he jogs quickly, heading into the load-in area where a majority of the OWF Superstars have congregated before the show. Jesse stops in his tracks and scans the group, searching for a certain individual. He takes a few cautious steps forward with his head on a swivel, trying to be aware of his surroundings. Regardless, he is unable to locate his target.

Voice - Looking for someone?

Williams twirls around on his heels to see Specter casually leaning with his back against the wall, and his eyes set on Jesse.

Jesse Williams - Not anymore.

Specter - I'm glad you finally came to me. I think it's time you confess to Vacant your true feelings, and I can help you with that.

Jesse approaches Specter with his eyes locked directly on his.

Jesse Williams - I didn't come here to bullshit. I came here to say one thing, and you're going to listen.

Specter laughs.

Jesse Williams - You have a problem with Nick, that's fine. That shot you took on him was for free.

Jesse takes another step forward.

Jesse Williams - The next one will cost you. Dearly at that.

A smirk creeps across the face of Specter as Jesse steps back.

Specter - You done? Because now you're going to listen to me. This is much bigger than you, and if you know what is good for you you'll keep your nose out of my business. I have one thing to hold against you Jesse, and don't think it'll take me a second to tell Nick if you lay a finger on me.

Jesse steps back again, silenced by Specter's words.

Specter - Now if you'll excuse me, I have real business to attend to.

A video package flickers on across the screen, showing the new breed of the OWF.

Press on these tannins
They double in time
The touch of life, once failed to mention so far

Of course the law is fountains
Or face to face remorse
A fast and restless blackmail
Like pent-up fetish force

The video shows highlights of the past year in the OWF, dating up to the latest events.

You're right, I get it
It all makes sense, you're the perfect person
So right, so wrong
Let's all live in your imaginary life

Do you want enough?
Do you want it all?
Should you need it at all?
Takes a minute to see
Do you want enough?
Do you want it all?
Should you need it at all?
Do you want it or not?

As the vocals fade out, the logo of the OWF is fixated on the screen before fading out to black.

A stream of pyrotechnics ignite on the stage, firing high into the air while "I Get It" by Chevelle continues to pound through the speakers. The sold out crowd in the New Orleans Arena jump to their feet and unleash a loud cheer that continues as the fireworks die out on the stage. The cameras pan around the arena as the house lights come back on, which only sends the fans deeper into their frenzy. Chants of "O-W-F!" break out in different sections of the seating areas as the cameras fade to a view of the announcers booth. The music slowly begins to fade down at a slow rate of speed, but the fans only get louder as Gordie Falcoon starts off the night.

Falcoon - AHHHHOOOO! WELCOME to our last Addiction in August!

Dunn - ...And our last in America for a month. Ugh.

Kissens - Viva la mexico, y'all!

Falcoon - We're here in the Sold Out New Orleans Arena and we have a great night of action just one week before we head to Mexico for our return to the....marvelous country.

Dunn - Yeah. Let's go with that.

Falcoon - Definitely.

PA System - If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son...I got 99 Problems...
...
...Go ahead. Say you want a revolution!

As Jay-Z's voice rips through the PA, Justin Sane's voice cuts right in after his. Following that the opening chords of "Got the Numbers" by Anti-Flag ring out through the arena and the crowd jumps up to their feet with both Freedom Kid and Akira Kanemura making their presence apparent on the stage. The fans who are on their feet, mostly Freedom Army Members, are cheering loudly with the average fan giving both competitors a mild response.

Falcoon - We're being joined by the Tag Champions.

Kissens - They're both so small.

Both men have their indivdual Tag Championship strapped around their waist- Akira with the Tears Title and Freedom Kid with the Blood Title. They both sport lime green shirts that read "TEAM FUCKACK" in big bold blue letters. They slide into the ring, with Freedom Kid walking clear across the ring in three steps and bending through the ropes to address Missy Janson. She promptly stands and pulls the microphone from the time keepers table, handing it to Freedom Kid. Meanwhile on the otherside of the ring Akira is waving to the fans who are screaming for him, and points out any signs that are for him- which only numbers two in the whole arena. The music fades out as Freedom Kid calls Akira Kanemura into the center of the ring.

Dunn - Let's hear what they gotta say.

Kanemura walks to the center of the ring with Freedom Kid, but has his back facing the side of the arena where the live feed is and also where Freedom Kid is facing.

Freedom Kid - We are-

Freedom Kid stops himself, looking at Akira who is pointing and making throat cutting motions towards the cameras on the wrong side of the ring.

Falcoon - Hahaha, poor guy.

Freedom Kid promptly turns Akira Kanemura around to face the live feed, and begins again.

Freedom Kid - We are out here because Team FuckAck is going to restore glory to the OWF Tag Team Division. Isn't that right, Akira?

Freedom Kid positions the microphone infront of Akira's face.

Akira Kanemura - We are champions my friend!

As soon as Akira yells into the microphone, FK pulls the microphone back in front of his mouth.

Freedom Kid - Yes we are and keeping with the rules we are here to announce each others opponents. Can I get an "amen", Mr. Kanemura.

Akira Kanemura - Ahmed!

Freedom Kid - Ahmed Johnson was in fact a great wrestler, but he will not be my opponent unfortunately.

A small section of the fans boo.

Freedom Kid - Anyways, were were informed yesterday both of our matches will be taking place next week. Since Akira is new to America, I wanted to introduce him to the world he will have to adapt to if he wants to succeed. You see, back in Japan if you have heart you can make it as far as your talents take you. Here? Well, if you're six foot five, two hundred and sixty pounds you're set for greatness. My little japanese friend here stands under six feet, and about a buck short weight wise of the ideal heavyweight. He doesn't know and wouldn't know know the true meaning hardcore if it hit him across the head with an aluminum baseball bat.

He pauses for a second.

Freedom Kid - That is why I have selected Joe Cool to face Akira next week in a PDA Rules Tables Match for the OWF Tears Tag Team Championship.

The fans cheer loudly.

Freedom Kid - I figure, the blueprint of the ideal superstar, in Joe Cool, and the blueprint for all PDA matches, being the tables, will make for a perfect test to see how far Akira has come.

Falcoon - That's a rematch of a battle the two had a few months back.

Dunn - Cool won then, he shouldn't have a problem now.

Freedom Kid - Joe Cool. More like...

Again, Freedom Kid positions the microphone infront of Akira's mouth. He slants his eye brows down at him and Akira quickly responds.

Akira Kanemura - Joe isa not-COOL!

He pulls it back to within inches of his mouth.

Freedom Kid - Not cool at all, lukewarm at best. But, regardless, my great friend here had a tough decision to make himself. I told him as bluntly as I could to choose whoever he liked best as competition for me. I'm sure he has racked his brain for this decision. So Akira, who will be facing myself for the OWF Blood Tag Team Championship Next Week?

Akira grabs a hold of the microphone around the closed fist of Freedom Kid and pulls it infront of his face.

Akira Kanemura - Moxie Roxieeeee!

The fans expode as Freedom Kid pulls the microphone away from Akira.

Freedom Kid - Listen Akira, I can understand why you picked her. But you need to stop with this. I told you I'd go with you to the Tokyo Dome show, and then you wouldn't mention Moxie anymore.

Akira motions across his chest.

Freedom Kid - Yes, I know. I'll buy you a shirt.

Akira Kanemura turns to the crowd and smiles wide which brings a bout of laughter.

Freedom Kid - You sure you want Moxie? Okay. How about the stipulation?

Akira jumps next to Freedom Kid and yells into the microphone.

Akira Kanemura - SOFTCORE-AH!

The fans give a mixed response.

Freedom Kid - I asked what kind of match, not what kind of film you want to watch at the hotel later.

The fans all laugh which frustrates Akira.

Dunn - Hell yeah, I'm hanging with them tonight.

Akira motions with his hands in the direction of the mat and the corner while barking out his words in japanese.

Freedom Kid - Oh, okay. That's fair. Ladies and gentlemen, it's a Softcore Match with Moxie Roxie taking on Freedom Kid.

Kissens - That's going to be...interesting.

Freedom Kid - Now without further adue, we return you to your nights entertainment. See you next week!

Freedom Kid drops the microphone and motions towards Akira Kanemura to leave the ring. Both men exit and begin heading up the ramp pointing to their Tag Titles around their waists.

Dunn - Well, that's two big matches for next week.

Falcoon - I didn't have a clue both titles would be defended.

Kissens - Honestly, when were they last defended as singles titles y'all.

Dunn - Good question.

The feed cuts backstage. The cameras is set on a tripod backstage and is focused on a subject about twenty yards away. The empty hallway has permitted the sound to be amplified during the five second blackout period. The figure is on a cell phone, speaking loud enough for the feed to pick up. The subject turns and exposes himself to be Jesse Williams, not only by voice but by visual confirmation. He is unaware of the camera.

Jesse Williams - ...Yeah. I'm aware, Sarah....

Jesse turns away to face the wall as a slew of OWF wrestlers walk past him.

Jesse Williams - I saw it and I took care of it. I spoke to him not only five minutes ago. Are you serio-

Mike Van Pelt walks past Jesse, stopping in front of him which causes Williams to stop midsentence.

Jesse Williams - Can I help you?

Mike Van Pelt - Nah dude, just saying whats up.

Jesse Williams - Get lost, alright.

MVP looks down at his feet before heading off around the corner. Jesse turns his back to the hallway where MVP now stands, unaware of Mike Van Pelt's presence within earshot of Jesse's conversation.

Jesse Williams - Listen Sarah, after all we've been through I think you should trust me by now. I have the situation under control and if he tries to get within twenty feet of Nick I'll cut his fucking throat.

MVP remains behind Williams, who continues with his conversation.

Jesse Williams - Yes Sarah, and you mean a lot to me to. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you...

Jesse slowly turns around, which prompts MVP to dart down the hallway at full speed.

Jesse Williams - Or Nicholas. I'll have him call you.

Jesse hangs up the phone and exhales a deep sigh. We cut to the center of the ring where Missy Janson is standing with a microphone in her right hand.

Falcoon - That's some good footage there.

Dunn - Jesse will be pissed when he sees that.

Kissens - How does Vacant not know Jesse has a thing for his mom?

Falcoon - I guess he's obivious.

Dunn - Oh well! It's time for the first match so shut up and let Missy talk!

Kissens - ...Bitch.

Missy Janson - Welcome to Monday Night Addiction!

The fans cheer as they return to their seats or rise from them in anticipation of the show starting.

Missy Janson - The first match is an Earn Your Contract Match. Coming to the ring first, from...Italy, Santino Morelli!

An old italian opera ballad plays as Santino Morelli walks out from the back to no reaction whatsoever. He tries to flip off the fans to piss them off, but they don't care enough. He strolls to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and standing towards the camera to make more typical hand gestures.

Dunn - This guy sucks.

His music fades out and he backs into his corner.

Missy Janson - And his opponent, from Queens, New York...Mikey "The Shark" Austin!

The lights go dim and green lights are around as "Money for Nothing begins to blast over the PA system. The fans begin to react to the sound of it. A few seconds after he steps out with his hair covering his face so not to show who he is. The lights come up as he pushes his head back revealing that it is Mikey "The Shark" Austin. Instant heat is there as he is a pretty known face from around the sport and his known alliance to Raven Talon creates heat. He walks down to the ring ready to go and climbs inside the ring. Once inside he looks around and points to his t-shirt that reads: "Damage Control". He peels it off, tosses it aside, and awaits the match to start.

Missy hops out of the ring and the referee motions for the bell.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

Mikey Austin and Santino Morelli lock up in the middle of the ring. Austin gains the advantage with a hammerlock, which Morelli tries to roll out of. Mikey keeps a firm grasp on his arm, not allowing Morelli to escape. Morelli throws an elbow backwards, but "The Shark" sees it a mile away and ducks -- and as Morelli spins, Austin tackles Morelli down to the mat with a double leg take down. He mounts him and pounds away at the face of Morelli, with there not being much defense from him.

Falcoon - Mikey ain't too shabby.

Dunn - Ugh.

Kissens - He doesn't look too bad either!

Dunn - He still wears his hats backwards! That's so 1998!

Mikey Austin steps up, pulling Morelli up with him by his hair. When they get to their feet Morelli is able to wiggle free and gain a bit of momentum with two hard right hands to the jaw of Austin. The third attempt at a right hand, though, is caught by Mikey and he whips Morelli down to the ring with an arm drag. Both men scramble to their feet and charge each other, where Austin nails a hip toss on Morelli who crashes down onto his back.

Falcoon - I'd say Morelli is in Shark infested waters, but...

Dunn - You just said it.

Morelli pushes himself up to his feet and swings his right arm wildly at Austin who catches it and falls backwards -- driving the face of Morelli into the mat with a flatliner. He quickly covers Morelli while the referee drops into place and administers the count...1...2...3!

Missy Janson - The winner of this match, and receipient of an OWF Contract...Mikey "The Shark" Austin!

Morelli rolls out of the ring and heads up the ramp holding his face, while Mikey "The Shark" Austin hops over the guardrail and retreats into the crowd. He disappears among the masses.

Falcoon - Mikey has earned himself a contract.

Kissens - And just like that he's gone.

Dunn - It's incredible.

Morelli disappears behind the curtains, but within seconds of that they part again. Rockstar comes down to the ring dragging a long blue box with holes in it and a microphone.

Dunn - Not as incredible as this is looking right now.

Kissens - What are you ta--

Dunn - Shhh shhhh shhh! Just listen.

Rockstar slides the box into the center of the ring. He pulls himself up onto the apron and into the ring, sharply walking towards the middle of the squared circle. He stands in the center of the ring and begins speaking.

Rockstar - I came out here tonight, to talk about Drift and Die, it's gonna be a big PPV for me, because that's when i'm going to...

Suddenly, "Welcome to Jamrock" by Bob Marley hits the speakers and Porta Prince walks down to the ring. He gets in and pulls out a microphone himself.

Porta Prince - What are you going to do, huh? Shag Gordie Falcoon, over there?

Rockstar - Ewwww...

Falcoon - Pft! Like I'd ever.

Porta Prince - I thought you said you were gay? Are you faking that too? As well as acting dead tough?

Rockstar - Get bent.

Porta Prince - Or what? You'll shag me?

Rockstar - No, but i will do this.

Rockstar suddenly opens the long box and out jumps TeeWrex who starts pounding Porta Prince all over the place, Porta Prince grabs him and hurls him out the ring, Rockstar then assaults Porta Prince, before delivering a World Tour. He then storms out of the ring, helping TeeWrex to his feet.

Dunn - So, what was that?

Kissens - Not sure, y'all.

Falcoon - Yeah. TeeWrex in a box is weird enough for me.

Rockstar and TeeWrex both disappear backstage, while Porta Prince pulls himself up in the ring.

PA System - Tonight's your lucky fucking night.

Kissens - Uh oh.

Says the Venetian Vandal to an arena full of OWF fans and a handful of MVW loyalists. The boos pour in as purple and silver confetti blankets the arena to the tune of The Dead Kennedys' rendition of "Viva Las Vegas."

Falcoon - Porta Prince better get lost.

Knowing what is best for him, Porta Prince bails out of the ring and heads through the crowd to make an exit.

Dunn - Good move.

A non-smiling Specter steps through the curtain, looking dark-eyed and disheveled. Absent is any semblance of MVW memorabilia, instead replaced by an unbuttoned silver shirt and a pair of jeans, each a crisscross of wrinkles. Specter sunglasses sit in his hair, which looks suspiciously gel free. He blinks slowly and flips off one half of the arena with his right hand and holds up a microphone in his left.

Specter - Good evening and fuck every one of you.

Specter points the mic away from himself until the boos drown out.

Specter - I'm not here to be all jokey-jokey and tiptoe down memory lane with you cocksuckers. Keep your mouths shut and listen. You might learn something.

Another round of jeers surround our non-hero, as he drills an index finger into his temple.

Specter - First. Foremost. Vacant.

An ovation for the newly christened I Heart Moxie Champion.

Specter - Hope the pussy's worth it.

The OWF's MVW rep flashes a sinister grin.

Specter - But before I have the esteemed pleasure of kicking your teeth in, I have to clear my dance card. Most of you people know me as the MVW guy. For those of you who know how to Google and YouTube, you probably learned a little bit more about me and Meaningless Violence Wrestling. Maybe you saw some things in the "old Specter" that don't quite mesh with the "new Specter." Now, I'm the kind of guy that's always willing to try something new. But in being true to MVW's roots, I haven't been true to mine. Meaningless Violence Wrestling is the place that made me the man I am today. But the thing is, meaningless violence isn't exactly my style. My pain tolerance isn't that high. I think gimmick matches are for fags who can't wrestle. I don't like bleeding and I don't feel obligated to nearly fucking kill myself so an arena full of retards can go home smiling. I'm smart. I'm sneaky. Maybe I'm a fucking coward, but it doesn't matter because I've gotten more by the age of thirty-one than most people will get their entire lives. Like it or not, the legacy of the baddest wrestling federation of all time is resting upon my shapely shoulders. And now a little piece of that legacy is around the Trent Steel's waist, along with Justin Zane's arms.

The joke doesn't go over as well as Specter hopes, prompting him to shorten his pause.

Specter - Being the Lily Ass champion meant I couldn't quite hand the OWF superstars their asses in the way I'd like. That isn't a problem now. I get a match, I get to do whatever I want, win, lose, or draw. And it just so happens I've got one on deck. At Drift & Die, I'll be facing off against everybody's favorite pants-shitter, Trento Demento. He's the MVW Lily Ass champion. I get a chance to get my title back, along with a piece of MY legacy. And to top it all off, I get to pick the stipulations, because Trent Steel's as dumb as he looks. Well, fanboys, it's your lucky day. Because I'm picking a FLAMING CAGE MATCH!

The crowd cheers...

Specter - Psych! Don't start strokin' those boners just yet. No way in a million fucking years would I compete in something like that. My tastes are a little classier. A little more subtle. That's why me and the Trentster are going to have a submission match at the PPV. I'm going to make Trent Steel tap out. Or maybe I'm going to throw in the towel as soon as he slaps on a front facelock so I can walk out the Lily Ass champion. Who the fuck knows?

Specter shrugs erratically.

Specter - The OWF needs to redefine its standards of scum and villainy. And I'm going to carve it's new definition into the biggest bad guy in the fed. Come and get me, Trenty Fresh. I'll show you what being a bad guy's all about.

Dropping the mic, Specter walks back through the curtain music free, leaving the arena to mull over his announcement.

Dunn - So Specter wants Steel in a Submission Match.

Kissens - Great! We get to see them beat the hell out of each other again!

Falcoon - Was that sarcastic?

Kissens - Not at all.

Dunn - Sure did sound it.

Falcoon - Well folks we'll be right back with the second match of the evening right after this short commercial break!

LIVE! ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2008!
FROM EL PALACIO DE LOS DEPORTES IN MEXICO CITY, MEXICO!
ONLY ON PAY PER VIEW!

3 MORE MATCHES JUST SIGNED!
VACANT WILL DEFEND HIS OWF NETWORK CHAMPIONSHIP AGAINST VALTIEL!
SPECTER WILL CHALLENGE TRENT STEEL FOR THE OWF/MVW LILLYASS CHAMPIONSHIP!
AND..
A THREE-WAY DANCE FOR THE OWF BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP!

Dunn - Ugh, I don't want to go to Mexico.

Kissens - I think we'll have fun.

Falcoon - Just stay away from the water.

Dunn - And Jesse Williams.

Kissens - Duh!

Missy stands up from her seat at ring side, which draws the attention of the announcers.

Falcoon - Well lets send it to Missy for the announcements.

Missy Janson - The next matchup of the evening is scheduled for a one fall. Coming to the ring first, from Long Beach, California...Exell!

Lights dim. Music hits, quietly at first. A sudden hike in volume is accompanied by flashing neon lights. As Exell appears at the top of the ramp, blue and yellow fireworks rise above him. Exell exudes calm and confidence during his intro, barely acknowledging the jeering crowd.

Missy Janson - And his opponent, from parts unknown, Angel of Death!

Unforgiven begins to play and the lights go out in the arena. Smoke beings to fill the ring and a purple light begins to shine within it. As the smoke disapates a large dark figure is seen standing in the ring. As the lights slowly come back on AoD is standing in the center of the ring looking up and chanting to himself ignoring all his surroundings. As all the lights come on he seems to snap out of his trance and pace the ring waiting for the match to begin.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

Falcoon - I have been informed this will be Exell's last match with the company.

Dunn - Well I guess that doesn't leave much to the imagination on who is winning.

Exell and Angel of Death meet in the middle of the ring with Exell attempting a right hand that doesn't even phase AOD. Exell attempts a toe kick, but again AOD barely flinches. Exell slowly grows more frustrated and runs off the ropes, attempting a shoulder block that sends him down to his back upon contact with AOD's chest. When he gets back up to his feet he is met with a big boot from AOD that plants him right down to the mat once again.

Kissens - Poor Exell.

Angel of Death wastes no time as he bends down, lifts up Exell to his feet and grabs him with both hands around the throat. He lifts him up into the air and chokeslams him down to the may -- sitting out in the process and slamming Exell back first to the mat between his legs. He quickly follows up with a pin attempt while the referee drops to his knees to make the count.

Kissens - That's the Soul Stealer.

Dunn - And that's a wrap.

1...2...3!

Missy Janson - The winner of this match...Angel of Death!

The referee goes to raise Angel of Death's hand but he pulls it away and threatens violence towards him. The referee exits the ring with his tail tucked between his legs while AOD stands tall in the ring.

Dunn - Well that was quick.

Falcoon - Thankfully, right?

Kissens - You said it best, y'all.

Dunn - I suppose. AOD is on a little bit of a winning streak.

The scene cuts backstage, where EJ Slayer can be seen looking inside a duffel bag, listening to someone talk off-screen.

Mike Van Pelt - ...And that's what I heard.

EJ Slayer - Really? Hmm, I think I could use that...

Slayer finishes digging through the bag and pulls out a money clip. The amount isn't obvious, but a 100 dollar bill is clearly on the top.

EJ Slayer - Let it not be said that I don't reward intelligence.

Slayer flips the money to the other person, and the camera pans to reveal that it's Mike Van Pelt! MVP eyes the money in his grasp before quickly exiting, leaving Slayer to himself.

EJ Slayer - So Jesse wants to split his attention does he? I suppose it's time for me to get his attention...

Slayer reaches into the duffel bag, pulling out a can of spray paint before walking off screen as the scene cuts back to ringside.

Dunn - Great, here comes the nWo all over again.

Falcoon - I doubt that Slayer is starting the nWo.

Kissens - Yeah. He doesn't have the trademarks, y'all.

We cut back to the Jesse Williams backstage getting done doing a autograph session since he's not booked. As he walks back to the back to get out he stops. We pan back to see Trent Steel standing between Jesse and the door to the parking lot. Trent is in his typical ring gear along with his black trenchcoat and his black oakleys with red lenses. His head bandaged from where Jesse slammed him into the concrete last week. Jesse gets ready in a fighting position and Trent reaches into his black trenchcoat and pulls out a white flag.

Trent Steel - Truce.

Jesse Williams - Bullshit! I know you. This is a trick.

Trent Steel - I give you my word I am not going to lay a hand on you.

Jesse Williams - Yeah. You'll say that and then that little shithead kid of yours is going to hit me in the back of the head with a tire iron or that alcoholic tag team partner of yours.

Trent Steel - I assure you if they do they answer to me. I just want to chat.

Jesse Williams - Bullshit.

Trent Steel - No seriously I don't want to fight. After all wasn't it you who said you've beaten me so many times in the ring that I should wise up and just stop trying to beat you in a physical encounter?

Jesse Williams - Yeah. You never listen...

Trent Steel - Until now. See you were right Jesse I can't beat you in the ring. I admit it. Truth be told I just don't have what it takes to take you out in the ring. I mean look at you. You've adapted so well to mat wrestling in compared to when you were in ASW. I could beat you back then because you did stupid things. Now your thinking. Your letting that old training get to you. Hell I would say you are a match for me at being perhaps one of the few technical wrestlers in this place.

Jesse Williams - What's your point.

Trent removes his shades and smirks as he points to the bandage.

Trent Steel - See your right I can't beat you in a physical confrontation. However. I don't even have to lift a fucking finger to destroy you now.

Jesse Williams - Oh not this bullshit again.

Trent Steel - Oh no. Not bullshit. Not trash talk. Not truth talk. No. You see the truth is Jesse I don't give a rat's ass about you. Hell why should I? You've got the fame you wanted by doing everything including taking a dive all those years ago. The fans forgave you for that so you still have them. You've vanquished all of your old rivals and mine well...they like to run away. You don't. Which is why deep down I sort of “admire” you. Now like I said I can't beat you in the ring. But I don't have to...

Trent gets so close to Jesse you can feel the tension between these two like they just want to kill each other.

Trent Steel - Can you feel it? That anger? That hate? For us to tear each other apart in any arena would make us both rich beyond our dreams. We could have everything. We don't need a “storyline” like other places. Here in OWF you and I...we just want to kill each other. Now if I were a lesser man I would be all right with this arrangement Jesse. However...Where as you want me gone from this place in a wheelchair. I want you gone in prime condition. I want you to be able to walk away with your tail between your legs. I want you to suffer. I want you to beg for me to break you in half. To give you some cop out excuse to say why you can't cut it anymore you fucking bitch! I want you to beg for me to end it all for you with one swift twist of my sharpshooter. But you know what?...I won't do it! I won't let you off easy you fucking idiot.

Jesse Williams - So what are you going to do Mr. Son of a Bitch? Talk me to death? Just what the fuck do you think your going to do?

Trent Steel - Oh see I'm not going to drop the hammer now Jesse. This is going to be long and painful just like your promos. This is going to be a slow and painful death that has been coming for you for a long fucking time. You see every good heroic journey needs a fall. That's the truth of it all. Those people love to see you beat me. They pay a lot to see it. They want you to destroy me. But just how much do you think they're going to pay to watch me destroy you without even laying a hand on you. I'm going to destroy you Jesse. Not the OWF World Champion. I'm going after your legacy.

Jesse Williams - You think you're going to destroy me?

Trent Steel - By making everything you fucking care about want you fucking gone! I will make the people closest to you hate you more than you even hate me! I will turn you into the true “outsider”! I will make you cry at night because no one is coming to talk to you. I will make you feel so terrible that you'll start slacking off. I'll make your fans want you to quit and beg you to because they don't want to see what a apathetic and poor man I will turn you into! Everything is going to go Jesse. Everything!

Jesse Williams - You don't have the balls to try.

Trent Steel - Oh. But every good hero Jesse...needs a superb villain. Now ask yourself. You have a idea of what I am capable of Jesse. Let me put it to you this way. I will break you with no fan fair. No fall from grace. I will make you walk out without even having a fair well match. You are going to be erased. Now as to your “balls” question. Ask yourself...what have I got to lose taking you out? Just what do you have over me?

Jesse Williams -...

Trent Steel - Starting to sink in. Enjoy your time in the battle you will not win. Enjoy your little trophy for as long as it stands. Because I'll leave you with this thought. When I am done with you. You will have said, done, and regretted everything about your career.

Trent starts to walk off as Jesse takes some deep breaths to not turn around and hit Trent. He walks off smiling as we cut back to ringside.

Falcoon - Was that Trent Steel taking a more mental approach?

Kissens - And did he admit he's no match physically for Williams?

Dunn - Yes. And yes.

Falcoon - That's scary.

Kissen - Yeah, y'all.

Dunn - A lot more scary than a barbed wire baseball bat.

Missy slowly walks up the steel steps and makes her way onto the apron. She steps into the ring and heads for the center.

Falcoon - And now, we send it to Missy one last time.

Missy stands tall in the center of the ring with the microphone in her right hand. She lifts it up to her mouth and begins to speak.

Missy Janson - Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the Main Event of the evening!

A loud roar echos throughout the arena.

Falcoon - This is the match everyone came to see.

Dunn - I came for Mikey Austin, personally.

Kissens - Who?

Dunn - The Shark.

Kissens - Oh. That doesn't help.

Missy smiles and lifts the microphone up to her lips once again.

Missy Janson - It is scheduled for a one fall, with no time limit. Coming to the ring first, from Rammstein, Germany...Harker!

The opening chords of 'Bloodline' by Slayer slams onto the PA, and the darkness rains down over everything. The entrance way covers with smoke, and visibility slowly reduces to zero; and red sparks drizzle from above. On the downbeat of the explosive first verse, Harker bursts into view and stands in the shower of falling frizzles. He glares into the ring, half his face hidden in the secretive shadows that dance up and down his hulking body. As he starts to slowly make his way down the ramp, the entire arena plunges into a cold plume of dark blue and red inky blackness. Harker seemingly glides up the steps and into the ring as the song cruises through the chorus and second verse. During the bridge, Harker gets into the ring and rises to the top of the corner turnbuckle. As the correans back down to the chords of how it started, Harker slowly removes his hat to reveal the reddest eyes. His pupils are hidden; just the hope had been. His face is solemn as he hops down and reveals no emotion as he gazes across the ring at his opponent.

Dunn - I love this guy. He's brutal-looking.

Kissens - He's my type, y'all.

Falcoon - Who isn't your type?

"The Sound of Truth" by As I Lay Dying begins to play throughout the arena and it gets slightly darker and spotlights rapidly flash to the beat of the music. Filthy Rich makes his way out from the back. He stands at the top of the stage momentarily, taking in the environment of the arena and the OWF fans that have packed into the arena.

Missy Janson - Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 244 lbs., from Miami, Florida... Filthy Rich!

He headbangs to the music for a second and then makes his way down to the ring with a somewhat serious look on his face. He walks up the steps outside the ring and climbs on the turnbuckle with one foot on the second turnbuckle and the other foot on the top turnbuckle. He looks around for a couple of seconds and jumps down into the ring and gets ready to start the match.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

Filthy Rich charges at Harker and nails him with a cross body block, taking the big man down to the mat immediately. He quickly follows up by dropping an elbow across Harker's chest and striking down at him with hard stomps. Harker fights his way back up to his feet, only to be dropkicked in his right knee which sends him down to one knee. Filthy Rich bounces off the ropes and charges back at Harker, but from his kneeling position Harker charges up and decks Filthy Rich with a hard clothesline that sends him flipping to the mat. Harker stands up, dragging Filthy Rich to his feet by his hair and lifting him up to his side before dropping him down with a sidewalk slam. Harker covers Filthy Rich, and the referee slides in to make the count...1...2...kickout. Harker quickly drags Filthy Rich up to his feet, lifting him up over his shoulder and walking towards the center of the ring. Rich is able to slide down the back of Harker and grab him in a reverse waist lock.

Dunn - What's he gonna do from here? Harker is too--

In a show of ultimate strength, Filthy Rich tosses Harker backwards over his head with a release german suplex. Harker holds his back in pain while the fans give Filthy Rich a loud ovation as he pulls himself back to his feet.

Falcoon - What was that, James?

Dunn - Shut up Gordie.

Filthy Rich approaches Harker who has already rolled onto his side to pull himself up. Rich aides him in getting to his feet only to lock him in a front face lock and drive Harker face first into the mat with a DDT. Rich rolls over the much larger Harker and makes a cover, with the referee dropping into place to administer the count...1...2...kickout. Filthy Rich gets frustrated and leaves Harker on the mat, exits the ring onto the outside apron, and approaches the nearest turnbuckle. Filthy Rich quickly scales to the top rope, remaining in a crouched position clutching the top ropes with both hands as Harker stumbles to his feet. Filthy Rich stands up, turns around and leaps off the top rope backwards towards a now standing Harker. He twists around and twists around with a suicidal 450 flip, but Harker catches Filthy Rich around his throat in the air. Using his own momentum from the jump, Harker drives Filthy Rich down with a thunderous clothesline that rattles Rich to his core and shakes the entire ring upon impact.

Kissens - That backfired badly.

Falcoon - They don't call it high risk for nothing.

Harker approaches Filthy Rich and grabs one of his arms, but out of nowhere Rich pops up and scissors Harker's arm with both of his legs and takes him down to the mat. Filthy Rich locks in the scissored armbar, while Harker is stuck on his back in the ring. The referee checks Harker who barks at him to get away from him, which prompts Filthy Rich to wrench back even further on his arm.

Dunn - Dude, look at the angle of Harker's arm.

Harker kicks his legs and swings himself up onto his right hip towards Filthy Rich. He pushes himself up to his right knee and is able to reach forward with his free right arm and clutch onto his left arm which is being wrenched on by Filthy Rich. He pushes himself up to his feet and in one motion lifts Filthy Rich up into the air and slams him down with a huge powerbomb, but Rich doesn't let go of Harker's arm. He only wrenches back even further.

Falcoon - Harker won't give up.

Kissens - He's going to have to y'all.

Harker screams loudly and swings Filthy Rich up again, but this time with such intensity he swings him up to a standing firemans carry which he quickly turns into a death valley driver as he drives the head and neck of Filthy Rich right down into the mat. Both men lay on the mat with Filthy Rich holding his head and Harker holding his arm. Both men struggle to get up to their feet with the fans cheering them on. Harker gets to his feet first, but Filthy Rich strikes first. He nails a kick to the stomach, but Harker shrugs it off and unleashes a kick of his own. He tucks Filthy Rich's head between his legs and butterflies his arms. He lifts him vertically and drops to his knees, driving his head right into the mat.

Kissens - Memoriam!!

Harker covers Filthy Rich...1...2...3!

Missy Janson - The winner of this match...HARKER!

Falcoon - INCREDIBLE match!

Dunn - I am impressed.

Kissens - Not too bad of a show.

Falcoon - Well, we'll see you all in Mexico next week.

Dunn - ..Unfortunately.

Before the show cuts to black the feed switches backstage, as Jesse Williams heads to his dressing room, no doubt with lots on his mind. When he pushes open the door, his expression immediately turns to anger.

Jesse Williams - What the hell?!

Spraypainted across the wall is the message...

"Mind your phone calls Jesse"

The room has been ransacked as well, with items thrown all over the place.

Jesse Williams - God dam--

Before Jesse can even finish, his cell beeps. Jesse flips it open, and the camera zooms in to show the message:

"Enjoy the remodeling? We'll talk next week. -Slayer"

Jesse Williams - That son of a...