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 at Campus Chaos, Funeral of Hearts, and recent Addictions.

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.

Instead of the music continuing over into the show, there is silence. No music marks the appearance of Apollo, to kick off the second Addiction show in Boston. The cameras cut to the stage, focusing in on Apollo who has a very wide smile on his face.

Falcoon - AAAAHHHOOOOO!

Greene - I'm back! YES!

Falcoon - And the OWF is back in Boston -- as we welcome you to the Second Half of our Doubleheader Addiction.

Greene - Not the best way to kick off a show. Especially after the events of the show in Chicago.

The fans shower him with a combination of boos and apathy, while a slice of Williams supporters applaud.

Falcoon - Apollo looks a little too confident for someone who has a client defending his World Title here tonight.

Apollo wastes no time in addressing the crowd, not unlike a lawyer delivering an opening statement.

Apollo - I would say "Good evening, Boston," but I'm out here solely to put a damper on your night. It appears President Specter's enthusiasm for his new position has overshadowed his knowledge of what the actual abilities of the OWF President are. A long time ago, this company was run by a man known the world over as Diamond Kid. A man who was also fond of booking himself in high profile matches, not unlike a child playing with his favorite toys.

A smirk comes across Apollo's face.

Apollo - Thankfully, Diamond Kid's reign did not last forever and when the late Chase Johnson took the reigns of the OWF, one of his first acts as President was to slide an addendum into the rulebook that would prevent such misuses of power from occuring in the future.

Apollo looks out into the crowd to the right of the stage, continuing on.

Apollo - Mr. Johnson saw enough wrestler-slash-presidents to know what would happen. Some jackass would try to book his way into a title reign. That's why the president of the Outsider Wrestling Federation is barred from booking himself against anyone active on the OWF roster.

The fans remain silent, listening in to Apollo as they start digesting what he is feeding them.

Apollo - That effectively means, the president can't book himself against anyone in the company. No handicap matches, no gimmick matches, and definitely no title matches. He can accept a Challenge, but by no means does he have the right to book himself against whomever he pleases.

Boos sweep the arena, as the fans universally frown upon the cancellation of the potential title match.

Apollo - So, Boston, I regret to inform you that your champion, Jesse Williams, will not be defending his title against Specter tonight. Have a pleasant evening.

With a smirk, Apollo returns through the curtain.

Greene - I don't know how legit that is.

Falcoon - I can't seem to remember a single time the President has had a World Championship Match.

Greene - But, I feel like President's have challenged others.

Falcoon - I don't know.

The cameras cut to ringside, showing the announcers table with Gordie Falcoon and Garrett Greene looking directly into the camera.

Greene - Well until we find out, I assume that match is still happening.

Falcoon - Good thing we have a stacked card for us to enjoy in the mean time.

Greene - Yep, in addition to Plague and Ray Lopes -- we will have three more people advancing by the end of this card.

Next to the announcers booth, Sum Yung Ho rises up out of her steel chair and pulls a microphone off of the time keepers table.

Falcoon - And we're already about to get this show underway.

Greene - I can't wait.

She walks towards the nearest set of steel ring steps, and quickly ascends them on her way up to the ring apron. She hops through the middle and top ropes, and enters the ring -- immediately heading for the center of the squared circle.

Falcoon - So lets send it to Sum Yung Ho for the introductions.

Sum Yung Ho turns to face the live camera, and brings the microphone up to her mouth.

Sum Yung Ho - Hello Boston -- And WELCOME TO MONDAY ADDICTION!

The already rowdy crowd explodes as they stand to their feet.

Sum Yung Ho - The first matchup of the evening is a First Round Match in the 2009 Quest For The Best Tournament!

The remaining fans stand and shoot their attention to the ring as Sum Yung Ho continues on.

Sum Yung Ho - It is scheduled for a one-fall under Normal Rules -- with no Time Limit. Winner of the match moves on to the Quarterfinals of the Quest For The Best Tournament.

Sum Yung Ho takes a deep breath.

Sum Yung Ho - Coming to the ring first... From Green Bay, Wisconsin... Drake Munday!

Jesus Of Surburbia hits the PA System as Drake Munday saunters on to the stage.

I'm the son of rage and love
The jesus of surburbia
From the bible of
None of the above

Drake looks angry as he makes his way to the ring. He is especially unkind to the crowd who boos him.

And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a land of make-believe
That don't believe in me.

Drake takes his steps slowly as if each movement causes him great pain. Drake finally arrives at the ring and jogs up the steel steps into the ring.

Greene - Drake hasn't been doing very much lately.

Falcoon - I think he's injured and not letting on.

Greene - If he's hurt, we'll all understand.

Drake's music fades out as he enters the ring and backs into his corner. Sum Yung Ho lifts the microphone back to her lips and continues with the introductions.

Sum Yung Ho - And his opponent... From Haiti... Porta Prince!

A robotic voice hits the PA System as the lights dim in the arena.

PA System - WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! The Ether Boy is in the Building! The Ether Boy is in the Building!

"Graveyard Shift" by Kardinal Offishall hits the PA System.

PA System - 'Member we told you...

6 in the mornin'
That graveyard shift's what we on til' we on and we
Gettin' that money faithfully
Duckin' them cops, going straight like A to B

Porta Prince bursts through the curtains, with the crowd erupting in cheers at the site of their favorite big man -- with his valet Stefanie behind him. Porta let's out a primal scream at the top of the stage with his arms raised as the fans go absolutely nuts. As he descends down the ramp, he slaps five with the fans who have their arm stretched out. He steps onto the ring apron closest to the hard camera, and as the camera zooms in, Porta leans his back on the ropes as he soaks in all the love from the rabid crowd.

Falcoon - Porta looks naked without the Caribbean Championship.

Greene - Yeah, good thing he isn't really naked.

His music fades out while Sum Yung Ho exits the ring, heading back to the time keepers table. Once seated, the referee calls for the bell.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

Drake Munday runs across the ring, but gets lifted up into a urnage and dropped right onto the back of his head by Porta. A look of rage fills his eyes as he begins stomping the exposed chest of Munday, forcing him onto his back -- where Prince now starts laying boots to the small of his back. Munday is able to lift himself up to his knees as he deflects a few of the kicks by Porta, and is able to land a left jab to the sternum that catches Porta off guard. His hesitation allows for Munday to return to his feet and bring his right forearm across the left side of Prince's face -- dazing him further. Munday keeps on fighting, nailing a second forearm that hits Porta in the same exact point as the first. He falls down to his right knee, and Munday sees the opening for a third strike.

Greene - Munday is really laying into Porta.

He backs up a step to wind up his right arm, which proves to be a mistake as he brings it forward and it is blocked by Porta's left forearm. He strikes Munday with an open palm across his jaw, knocking a few screws loose and backing him off.

Falcoon - You spoke way too soon.

Porta returns to his feet and gives Drake a forearm of his own -- slamming his right arm against Munday's face with such force he falls down to a seated position on the mat. Prince yanks him right back up to his feet and leans Drake's limp body against the ropes. He brings a second open palm strike to Drake's jaw, awaking him from his daze before Prince grabs a hold of Munday's right wrist. He tosses Drake off of the ropes, irish whipping him across the ring. Prince steps to the center of the ring as Drake turns and bounces off of them back-first. Porta Prince bends down, looking to back body drop Drake -- but Munday leapfrogs over the doubled-over Porta Prince. He lands on his feet and continues running as Porta stands himself up and clumsily stumbles around. Munday turns, bouncing off the ropes and returning at full speed. Porta holds out his right arm, as Drake does the same -- with both men connecting with a pair of clotheslines that send them both to the mat.

Greene - Ouch.

Falcoon - Now both men are down.

Greene - They nearly took each others arms off with that double clothesline.

Falcoon - Munday is hanging around with Porta a lot better than I thought he would.

Drake kicks his legs as he flops onto his stomach, while Porta just holds his chest and rolls over onto his left side. He digs his left knee into the mat and slowly starts pushing his body off of the mat. Drake places both of his palms on the canvas and pushes himself off of his chest, lifting his knees towards his chest as he gets to a kneeling position just seconds after Porta does. The two men are unaware of the others position in the ring, or how close they are to returning to their feet -- instead, both individually focus on the task ahead of them. Munday closes his eyes and lifts himself up to his feet, wincing a bit as he stumbles to his feet. Meanwhile, Porta rises up from his knees with ease -- both men having their backs to one another.

Falcoon - You can tell this is going to be a battle for both men.

Greene - On the brightside, the winner of the match has two weeks to rest before the Pay Per View.

Falcoon - That's a spoil that goes to the victor, the loser risks not being involved at all.

Drake Munday and Porta Prince both spin around after returning to their feet, to see one another within striking distance. A sharp european uppercut starts things off once again, as Munday drops to his left knee and gasps for his breath. Porta is about to follow up, but Drake springs up and uppercuts Prince right under his jaw with a closed left fist. Porta's head snaps back and he nearly falls over to the mat, but remains on his feet. Once Drake catches his breath, he leaps into the air and dropkicks Porta right across his chest -- sending him stumbling backwards into one of the turnbuckles.

Falcoon - Now that's what I call a dropkick.

Greene - Even still, Porta didn't leave his feet.

Munday walks towards the corner and steps up to the second rope -- using his left hand to tilt Porta Prince's head back. Drake balls up his right fist, and repeatedly brings it across the bridge of Porta's nose -- with the fans counting off the number of punches with every strike. When the seventh punch is about to be landed, Porta pushes both of his hands up and shoves Drake off of the ropes -- sending him down to his rear for a moment, before Drake somersaults backwards and onto his feet. Porta rushes out of the corner, only to be sidestepped as he reaches Munday. Drake hooks Prince around his left shoulder and between his legs, and swings Porta over into a huge Powerslam reversal that shakes the entire ring. Drake remains on top of Porta, hooking his leg while the referee dives in and counts.

Greene - Beautiful powerslam by Drake.

Falcoon - He has the leg hooked!

1... 2... Porta throws his right shoulder up, and Munday pulls himself up to his knees. He looks at the referee, who holds up two fingers as Munday gives him a death stare. Drake begins pulling himself back up to his feet, scooping Porta up around his shoulders and dragging him up as well. It takes a bit of effort, but eventually both men stand to their feet and get a glimpse of one another. Munday hits Porta with a short left jab, followed by a hiptoss down to his back -- leaping into the air and extending his legs as he looks for a leg drop on Porta. He drops his right leg across Prince's throat, prompting him to sit up off the mat and break into a deep hacking cough. Munday moves himself along the mat and pulls himself behind Porta -- locking him in a reverse chinlock as he kneels on the canvas. Porta tries to pry his fingers between his face and the hands of Munday to free himself, but Drake keeps a tight lock.

Falcoon - Drake is going to do everything he can to wear down Porta.

Greene - It's the best way to approach a match with someone of his size.

Porta attempts a different course of action, rolling himself to his left and digging his knee into the canvas. He places the sole of his right foot on the mat and uses it to balance himself before pushing himself back to his feet. Drake transitions the hold into a side headlock, wrenching around Porta's head with his left arm. Porta wraps both of his arms around the torso of Drake and tries to lift him up over his head for a Backdrop Suplex -- but Drake only tightens his hold around Porta's neck as he leaves his feet, forcing Porta to place him back down on the mat. Drake falls to his knees and flips Porta over his body, sending him down to the mat with a headlock takedown -- rolling over his chest and keeping a tight lock on Porta's head.

Greene - Munday is really milking that headlock.

Falcoon - If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Greene - Porta isn't going to lose the match because of a headlock, though.

Falcoon - It could help contribute to it if Drake hits The Darkness.

Greene - Good point. Didn't think of that.

The referee drops in to check on Porta, who refuses to give up. His shoulders both rest on the mat, forcing the referee to start a count. 1... 2... Porta rolls over onto his right shoulder, lifting his left off the canvas just enough to break the fall. He remains in Drake's grasp still, with his face turning a bright shade of red. Finally, using his brute strength, Porta rolls himself all the way onto his right shoulder and brings his right knee towards his chest as he places it on the mat. Drake keeps a tight lock on Porta who pushes himself back to his feet at a very labored pace. He finally returns to his feet and again grabs Drake around his torso -- but this time, he staggers backwards towards the set of ropes behind them. Porta presses Drake up against them, and uses his bounce to throw Drake off of him -- finally freeing himself from the headlock.

Falcoon - Finally Porta breaks out.

Drake charges across the ring towards Porta who is resting up against the ropes. Munday looks for a clothesline but Porta is able to pull himself away from the ropes, nearly sending Drake over the top rope with the momentum from his miss. He's able to keep himself on his feet, avoiding the fall to the outside while Prince turns to confront Munday. Prince cracks an open palm across Drake's chest, leaving a large red handprint on his skin. Drake stumbles off of the ropes, trying to avoid any further strikes from Porta -- who is in hot pursuit.

Greene - Drake better not look away from Porta.

Falcoon - It could cost him.

With his back to Porta, Drake is unable to see the short distance that Porta has to travel in order to continue with the assault. He is informed by a clubbing forearm to his shoulder blades that staggers Drake against the ropes. He spins off of them, only to be rocked by a wide left elbow strike from Porta that finds its mark on the right cheekbone of Munday. He drops to one knee in front of Porta, who bends down and hooks Munday under both of his arms. Porta Prince lugs Munday up to his feet and clasps his hands behind Drake's back. He tosses Drake over his head and sends him crashing down to his back with a release Belly to Belly Suplex.

Greene - God, Porta just won't let up now.

He doesn't look for the pinfall, instead Porta immediately stands himself up and makes a throat cutting gesture with his thumb as he rises to his feet. He bends down and grabs Munday on either side of his head and begins lifting him up towards his feet. As Munday gets back up, he leaps into the air and grabs Porta around his head -- looking for The Darkness. Somehow Prince is able to get both of his hands under the back of Munday, and hold him suspended in the air -- not allowing him to execute the move.

Greene - Drake's trying for that Darkness RKO.

Falcoon - But Porta's got him held up!

In a flash, Prince flips Munday over into a front powerslam position on his right shoulder. He sits out and drives Drake's head to the mat between his legs.

Greene - Third World Takedown!

Falcoon - What a beautiful reversal.

Prince allows Drake to flop down to his back before casually laying over his chest -- with the referee sliding in to make the count.

Greene - He could count to a thousand...

1... 2... 3!

Sum Yung Ho - The winner of this match, and moving on to the Quarterfinal Round -- Porta Prince!

Falcoon - An impressive victory gets Porta into the Quarterfinals.

Greene - Now he's got a Platform Match to look forward to.

Falcoon - Not to mention he's either going up against Joseph Mason or EJ Slayer.

Porta has his arm raised and joins his valet on the outside. The two begin walking up to the back to the cheers of the crowd.

Greene - Yeah, well he can worry about that later. Now he's got that beautiful woman to celebrate with.

Porta and the woman disappear behind the curtains. The camera remains focused on the entrance way as ring technicians come out from the back, and carry a wide object covered in black cloth. They place it in one of the corners of the ring and leave it there -- then quickly make their exits, as Munday limps up the ramp

Greene - What's that all about?

Falcoon - Not a cl--

Once again, "Viva Las Vegas" hits as the audience showers the entryway with praise, in addition to a degree of dissatisfaction. Drake leaves through the curtains, looking very frustrated as he disappears. Still maintaining a swagger, Specter emerges right after Drake exits, still dressed presidentially as he addresses the Boston crowd -- while the technicians pass him on their way out.

Prez Specter - For the first time in my life, I did some homework and it turns out Apollo isn't yanking your chains here. I can't book myself in a single fucking match. That means Operation President Specter Becomes Champion is a no-go.

The audience, somewhat injustly, boos the news of Specter being unable to abuse his power.

Prez Specter - But don't worry. I've been hard at work on Plan B. While there are a number of guys in this company that deserve a shot at Williams, I can't in good conscience book one over the others. What I can do, however, is give the shot to more than one guy. If I can only be a president and not a wrestler, I might as well be a wrestler's president. So, here's what I'm thinking. Jesse Williams wanted to be a part of Quest for the Best. Works for me. So is his fucking belt. I checked the rulebook, and while I don't have the authority to book myself, I'm more than authorized to book championship defenses. That means 2009's Quest for the Best will be for the right to book an episode of Addiction, and for the OWF World Heavyweight Championship.

The arena erupts at the news.

Prez Specter - Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.

The Jumbotron comes to life, revealing current acting NLW official Eriq Mobely seated at a desk. He's dressed in a suit, and has a stack of papers in my hand.

Eriq Mobely - Hello OWF. For those that don't know me, my name is Eriq Mobely, and I've been put in charge of NLW and its intellectual properties while the legal issues are resolved. Since I believe it is in the best interest of the company to keep its championships busy, I have the contract in hand here declaring that the NLW Championship will also be up for grabs at Quest for the Best.

Eriq pulls out a pen and sets the papers down, quickly signing his name to them.

Eriq Mobely - It's now official. I'm looking forward to some great matches to come out of this.

The Jumbotron cuts out at that point. Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, Specter lets the audience react for a few seconds more, before tying up his announcement.

Prez Specter - There you have it. Jesse Williams will be defending both his championships in the tournament. For year's, the OWF has called this show Quest for the Best. This time, we fucking mean it.

Falcoon - Oh my god.

Greene - Jesse is going to have one hell of a Quest For The Best!

Dropping the microphone, Specter gives a thumbs-up as cameras go off and "Viva Las Vegas" pipes up. After a quick bow, he heads to the back.

Falcoon - And there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Greene - It's allowed -- he is the President.

Falcoon - What I'd like to know is -- who is Eriq Mobely.

Greene - Someone in control of NLW, it seems.

We cut to the ring, where the sheet is now pulled off of the object that was placed in the ring. It is a picture of Chase Johnson, which sits in the one corner of the ring, and several black wreaths adorn the ring ropes -- which were put up during Specter's announcements. A black carpet is rolled out on the entrance way.

Falcoon - Well we go from that to -- well, I have no idea what we're about to experience here, but it feels a little omnious.

Gregorian chants are heard over the PA system and two men come out, in suits, carrying a casket. The crowd boos upon seeing who each of them are. On one side stands Trent Steel, on the other is JC. Both men have their Blood, Sweat and Tears tag team titles draped across the casket. They are acting very somber as they carry the heavy casket down to ringside and place it perpendicular to the ring. They enter the ring as fans are throwing trash. JC grabs a microphone and stands next to the picture of CJ.

JC - Thank you for coming, everyone.

The crowd roars with disapproval and starts another "Fuck you JC, Fuck you!" chant. Trent can be seen laughing in the background.

JC - As you can probably guess, we are here to mourn the loss of one of wrestling's brilliant minds. Chase Johnson, the ex-president of the OWF. Before we begin, I would like to once again show you CJ's last moments on OWF television.

JC points to the video screen, which shows familiar footage to the OWF fans. It's the footage of a forklift, being driven by JC, forcing CJ's limo in a concrete wall, causing it to go up in flames. When it cuts back, the fans are once again heavily booing, but everyone in the ring seems to be in a celebratory mood. JC stares blankly at the screen, enjoying his handiwork, before mockingly wiping a tear from his eye and continuing.

JC - Yes, it was a very, very tragic thing that happened to our "beloved" president. But don't take my word for it, let's hear what my partner, Trent Steel, has to say.

JC hands the microphone over to Trent Steel. The fans have been cheering him lately, but are booing him now for taking part in this.

Trent Steel - We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a pioneer in this business.

Falcoon - Wait...is he being sincere?

Greene - Worse he's tearing up.

Falcoon - He's a sensitive guy.

Greene - IT'S TRENT STEEL!!

Falcoon - Point taken.

Trent Steel - When I first met CJ I admit that I didn't respect him. I mean I know DiK through ASW so I didn't take to much stock in the guy who I figured was just the businessman. Now over the course of the time I have been here I have gained, be it as small as a grain of sand, a personal bit of respect for the man who didn't look at a card and not fuck it up with a fucking stupid ass stipulation!

Falcoon - There's the punchline!

Greene - A truthful one some would say.

Falcoon - Yeah, I think we just got swerved.

Trent Steel - So this is the part where I go on a rant about how much of a fucking bitch he was. No. I will not. For once I am not going to trashtalk.

JC - What?

Trent Steel - Nope. Not gonna do it. Instead I'm going to give this man a really good send off because despite what you did...which had to be done. This man deserves...a montage of all the things he's done for this company. Hit it.

The tron starts to countdown; 3... 2... 1...

"President Chase Johnson"

...

"In Memorium"

...

We see a slowed down view of film of CJ walking sitting at his desk. We see another clip of CJ sitting at his desk. Another clip of CJ at his desk.

"What can one say about a man who sat on his ass all the time."

We see CJ walking out to the ring. Suddenly...The film rips, and we cut to static. Suddenly we see Dude JoB dressed up like Rick Astley. Suddenly "Never gonna give you up" starts to play.

Dude JoB - Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.

Falcoon - Just...Wow...

Greene - AHAHAHAHA...The Rouges just Rick Rolled CJ!

Dude JoB - Sorry I can't be there in person for this wonderful send off to a fuckwit who didn't know his place.

Some of the fans start booing.

Dude JoB - No doubt this upset people that we are acting this way. Making a joke out of what has happened to this man. Truth be told. I don't care what you think! This man made this federation a fucking joke. Isn't this the same guy who booked a DILDO on a pole match! Isn't this the same guy who got this federation involved with NLW's bullshit. This crap load of shit is what you people are upset about. Far as I am concerned he stopped being a booker and thinking he was the fucking talent. And if he is all right...if he is okay...he isn't going to be when he gets back. You know why? Because starting tonight...On this very show...I'm going to remedy a problem that CJ started. This is your comedy OWF...Now your going to see why no one wants to fuck with this MANIAC!

The feed cuts off at we see Trent Steel and JC look up at tron and back at each other.

JC - Your buddy is a little...pissed.

Trent Steel - Emm hmm. But not as pissed as I. See you know the funny thing about all of this bullshit. The real comedy about all of this is everyone thinks that it's going to be business as usual here in OWF. People think that I'm going to play nice...Hey Specter. Got a question for you? How are you going to keep me in check? Simple. Stay out of my way and maybe...just maybe..

The fans are completely enraged at this point, and in defiance begin chanting for CJ.

JC - What a moving sentiment from my fellow Rogues members. As for me, I also have something to say. I'm sure I've told you all before that Chase Johnson was the source of the OWF's cancer. Like I promised, I cut him out.

As if to prove his point, JC grabs the giant photo of CJ and punches a hole in it. He then tears it in half and tosses it outside of the ring. Trent begins to laugh.

JC - Now we have Specter. I trust Specter, and I think he will do what is right by this company. But nothing could be worse than the hell you people endured when CJ was President. Dildo on a Pole matches, Cereal Killer matches, and that just involved that twit Greg Jackson. CJ was also responsible for signing the likes of Hang Ten, El Plaga, Jason Chase, the list goes on. Of course, I've slowly been removing those problems as well. With CJ gone, I am going to turn the OWF into a place where the elite dominate, a place where the talented survive. There will be no more diseased, pitiful people calling themselves "wrestlers" filling the ranks of this pathetic roster. In fact...

Suddenly, a murmur is heard through the crowd and a man leaps over the guardrail. He slides into the ring.

JC - Look who came to the funeral, everyone! This is my brother.

The crowd gives a mixed reaction, as many of the OWF faithful may not know who JC's brother really is.

JC - Do you have something you want to say, Eric?

Eric grabs the microphone away from JC.

Eric - If you're going to introduce me to this crowd, you'd better call me by my ring name...and that is GI. I've been sitting idly by during this whole charade of yours over the past few months and I can't sit by any longer. I'm not happy with what you have become Joe. I'm not happy with the jackasses you are hanging out with either. By the way, who the hell Rick Rolls these days?

His comments get a few cheers from the audience. JC looks visibly irritated, as does Trent. He makes a step forward but JC faces him and sticks a hand out.

JC - Trent, if you don't mind...I think I'd like to settle this on my own.

Trent nods and leaves the ring, as now it's just JC and GI.

JC - You know, you're really lucky he didn't decide to tear you apart.

GI - I'm lucky? I was about to say the same about him. I haven't been in the ring for a few years but I'm postive I could lay his ass out anyday.

JC - So you're on some melodramatic quest to stop me? You want to play the hero? Is that it?

GI - I'm no hero, Joe. I'm not the type. I just don't like what you've become. You're sucking the morale out of everyone you run in contact with and you are trying to turn wrestling into some type of perfect utopia of boring, serious wrestlers. You are killing what makes wrestling fun.

JC - What you think makes wrestling fun makes me sick. You're just like other "wrestlers" I've taken out. Do you know how many that's been? A lot. The only difference between you and them is that you're my brother and I'm going to give you a free pass. Get out of my ring, go back into retirement. You don't want to go to war with me.

GI - That's where you're wrong Joe. You see..

GI rolls up his left arm sleeve as he's talking.

GI - I've noticed that you can't be reasoned with words. I've tried before and you wouldn't allow it to get through your thick skull..

GI rolls up his right arm sleeve and the audience begins to notice and make some noise.

GI - The only option to make you understand what you are doing to this industry is to go to war with you, so you can take your free pass and shove it up your ass!

JC - You really don't want to...

GI shoves JC. The audience roars with approval. JC puts a hand to his chest and starts shaking, seething with anger. He balls up one of his fists as he slowly puts the microphone to his mouth again.

JC - GI...don't you...

This time GI surprises JC with a spinkick, knocking him on the mat. The audience cheers, and even a small "GI" chant breaks out. JC backs up towards the ropes and rolls underneath, now standing on the apron.

JC - I told you...I'm giving you a free pass....if you don't stop you're going to regret...

GI moves forward and knocks the microphone out of JC's hand. JC finally tries to strike GI, but GI ducks the punch and hits a kick to the abdomen of JC. JC doubles up and falls backward onto the closed casket that he brought out earlier. JC rolls off and hits the ground, and begins backing up towards the entrance way as GI stands in the ring. He picks up JC's microphone.

GI - By the way, before you decided to take out CJ I had him do me a favor.

GI pulls a contract out of his back pocket and waves it.

GI - Joe, I officially work here. So I'm not going anywhere.

The fans cheer at the possibility of JC getting his comeuppance. JC backs up and retreats backstage as GI stands tall in the ring.

Greene - JC and GI?

Falcoon - Yeah, looks like JC's brother has shown up.

Greene - And he doesn't approve of his sibling's actions.

GI begins leaving to a nice applause while a handful of ring technicians come out to clear the ring, and ringside area, for the next match.

Falcoon - Who would approve of JC's actions?

Greene - The Rogues?

Falcoon - Besides them.

Greene - Not too many people.

GI walks amongst the technicians, who wheel the casket up the ramp -- and everyone eventually disappears through the curtains.

Falcoon - Either way, JC and The Rogues made their point -- they think that the loss of our President is something to laugh at.

Greene - Come on Gordie, we don't even know for sure if he's gone.

Falcoon - That's the point -- let's show some damn respect! Specter filled his seat, like, two seconds after he fell from it.

The feed cuts to ringside, as Sum Yung Ho picks herself up from her seat at the time keepers table. She takes a microphone into her right hand and heads for the steel ring steps -- positioned in the corner nearest to her.

Greene - Will you relax? How do you plan to call the next two matches in this kind of mood?

Falcoon - I'm sorry.

Greene - That's better.

Sum Yung Ho skips up the steps and onto the ring apron. She ducks through the ropes and enters the ring -- making a bee-line for the center of the squared circle.

Greene - You wanna send it to Sum Yung Ho, big guy?

Falcoon - Yeaaah.

Greene - Go ahead.

Falcoon - Let's send it to Sum Yung Ho!

Greene - Good job!

She waits for the fans to quiet down, then lifts the microphone up to her mouth to begin her introductions.

Sum Yung Ho - The next matchup is a First Round Match in the 2009 Quest For The Best Tournament!

Sum Yung Ho takes a deep breath while the crowd cheers mildly.

Sum Yung Ho - It is scheduled for a one-fall under Normal Rules -- with no Time Limit. Winner of the match moves on to the Quarterfinals of the Quest For The Best Tournament.

The fans applaud loudly, forcing Sum Yung Ho to hesitate. She keeps the microphone at her mouth and continues on a few seconds later.

Sum Yung Ho - Coming to the ring first, from The Hall of Justice... The Avenger!

Over the PA, a voice is heard:

PA System - Courtesy of your Friendly Neighborhood Avenger!

"Courage" by Alien Ant Farm comes over the speakers and The Avenger leaps out on the stage, making heroic poses. As he moves down the ramp, he shakes hands, kisses babies, and signs autographs. He stands at the ring, makes sure his cape is attached and then leaps up onto the apron, before climbing up the turnbuckle and doing yet another heroic pose.

Falcoon - I really don't know much about this guy.

Greene - That makes two of us.

Falcoon - All I know is that he's going to have his hands full with Somoza.

Greene - I suppose thats why Somoza chose him as his opponent.

The Avenger's music fades out, and Sum Yung Ho continues on.

Sum Yung Ho - And his opponent, from Manugua, Nicaragua... Vernon Somoza!

PA System – Reggaeton Latino

Bailen, yales
Muevan, suden
Sientan el poder
Del reggaeton latino
Bailen, yales
Muevan, suden
Sientan el poder
Del reggaeton latino
(Ohhh...)
(Ohhh...)
(Ohhh...)
(Ohhh...)

The Lights turn Blue and White and they begin to flash with the bass of the Song. The Crowd begins to hoot and cheer as Somoza walks out with Tan Fatigues on a Military Generals coat and a Military green hat on. He has on Sunglasses smoking a large Cigar and carries the Nicaraguan Flag on a pole and waves it towards the crowd. He walks towards the ring blowing smoke into the air, and slapping a few hands as the music blares. He steps into the ring and places the flag atop one of the corners and Salutes it. He turns back to the ring and prepares for his match.

Falcoon - Somoza has been lost in the shuffle a bit.

Greene - Well, from what I was told, he played a part in the ending of the Caribbean Title Match.

Falcoon - Yeah, I told you earlier.

Greene - Really? Sorry. Still fuzzy from that boot.

Somoza's music fades out and Sum Yung Ho heads for the nearest set of ropes. She exits the ring and hops to the floor while the referee calls for the bell.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

The two men run at each other, with The Avenger trying a shoulder block -- but Somoza doesn't budge and shoves The Avenger down to his back. He cautiously picks himself up, and Vernon eggs him on to trying again. The Avenger breaks off towards the ropes behind him, bouncing off of them and using the spring to propel himself back towards Vernon Somoza. He drives his right shoulder into the right pectoral of Somoza, who again doesn't flinch as The Avenger is sent back down to the mat.

Greene - This guy has to find a new game plan.

Falcoon - And fast -- because if he doesn't, Somoza will tear him apart.

Greene - You couldn't be more right.

He rolls up to his right knee, and sees Somoza again pointing towards the ropes -- yelling at him to try again. His frustration getting the best of him, The Avenger hops up to his feet and heads towards the ropes yet again. He bounces off and heads back towards Somoza, who doesn't let The Avenger just run into him again. He extends his right arm, looking for a clothesline -- but The Avenger is able to counter it, hooking his right arm at the elbow and swinging over the back of Vernon. He floats around his shoulder and grabs Somoza in a front face lock as he lands back on his feet.

Falcoon - That's the key for The Avenger.

Greene - No more trying to stand up with Somoza -- use some speed.

He doesn't remain there as he falls back, trying to hit a DDT. Somoza is able to counter it by wrapping his arms around the torso of The Avenger, and keeping him suspended parallel to the mat -- avoiding the DDT attempt. The Avenger keeps the front face lock on, almost holding Somoza in a guillotine as he hangs off his neck.

Greene - God, look at the torque applied to Somoza's neck.

Falcoon - He avoided the DDT -- but at what cost if this hold doesn't get broken?

Just then, Somoza pulls himself back up and swings The Avenger up with him -- tossing him over his head with a Northern Lights Suplex from the suspended position over the canvas. The Avenger lands right on his back, and rolls onto his left side to relieve the pain in his back.

Greene - Well, I guess thats a way to break it.

Falcoon - Yeah -- if you're talking about breaking someones will.

Greene - Or their back.

Vernon stands up to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand as he slowly approaches The Avenger. He is keen to Somoza's position and tries to roll away from him, but it is no use. Vernon lays out and drives the point of his right elbow directly across the spine of The Avenger -- who begins clawing at the mat with his fingertips. He tries dragging himself away from Vernon, who clutches him by the back of his wrestling trunks and tugs him up to his feet. Vernon Somoza keeps a hold of the waistband of The Avenger's trunks with his right hand, and brings his left to cradle the back of his opponent's head. He rushes the nearest corner and tosses The Avenger through the top and middle ropes -- crushing him shoulder-first against the steel ring post. The Avenger lays over the middle turnbuckle holding his damaged right shoulder while Somoza steps forward, and again grabs his opponent by the back of his head and his trunks. He flops The Avenger down to his back and grabs a hold of his right arm -- falling down to his back and locking in a cross arm-breaker.

Greene - If The Avenger isn't careful here, he may lose function of his arm.

Falcoon - He may have to cut his losses and just give it up.

Greene - He's got some time to get out of it, but not much.

Vernon Somoza wrenches back with the seated armbar, trying to hyperextend The Avenger's right arm while the referee checks on his ability to continue. Using his agility, The Avenger bridges his back as he steps up to the tippy-toes of his boots. He kicks both of his legs over, landing on his feet with the cross arm-breaker still applied -- although Somoza is on all fours, barely keeping hold of Avenger's arm. He's finally able to pull himself free, and a frustrated Somoza lifts his hands off of the mat. The Avenger, still on his feet, jumps into the air and brings both of his boots to the face of the kneeling Vernon Somoza -- bending him over them as his back hits the mat. The Avenger dives in and lays across Somoza in a lateral press, with the referee dropping to his knees to make the count.

Falcoon - What a shot to the face!

Greene - Just like that The Avenger may have Somoza beat!

Falcoon - The count!

1... 2... Somoza gets his left shoulder off of the mat, with The Avenger grasping his hand into a greco roman knuckle lock with his right.

Greene - Close, but The Avenger seems to have plans for Somoza already.

Falcoon - As if he anticipated that he and Somoza would go to war.

He starts to lead Vernon off of his back, returning him to his feet before taking off for the corner turnbuckle. The Avenger steps up to the second rope with his right foot, then to the top with his left -- before springboarding off and throwing Somoza across the ring with a deep armdrag, using Somoza's left arm to toss him down to the mat. Vernon slowly pushes himself up to his feet and stumbles towards The Avenger, who steps forward and looks for a hiptoss -- which is blocked by the much larger Vernon Somoza. He doesn't bother with a second attempt, and chooses to strike Somoza in the stomach to buy himself some time.

Falcoon - He almost paid for that hiptoss attempt.

Greene - Now what's he going for?

He now clasps Vernon's right hand into a greco roman knuckle lock with his left hand, and runs off to the same corner he charged to just minutes earlier. Again he steps up to the middle rope with his right foot, then to the top with his left. He springboards off, leaping towards Vernon who throws his left arm forward and decimates The Avenger with a clothesline that riles up the crowd.

Falcoon - God, what impact!

Somoza keeps a hold of The Avenger's right hand, lifting him up off the mat and right up onto his shoulders -- holding him in a standing firemans carry. Vernon tucks both of his hands under the chest of The Avenger, pushing him off of his shoulders and over his head. Somoza allows The Avenger to fall to the mat with gravity pushing him there -- and he crashes chest first to the canvas. The impact isn't great and he is able to begin pulling himself up to all fours -- but Vernon Somoza doesn't allow him to progress from there. He leaps into the air, laying his body out flat and crashing across the back of Munday with a senton splash.

Greene - Ouch. Big time ouch.

The Avenger is flattened under the weight of Somoza, who arrogantly rolls The Avenger off of his stomach and onto his back. Vernon leans his back across his chest while holding his right hand in the air -- counting off the pinfall as the referee dives in and begins the count. 1... 2... The Avenger gets his right shoulder up in time to break the count, with Somoza looking stunned.

Falcoon - The Avenger is showing he belongs to be in this tournament.

Greene - Now it's just a matter of if it's enough to carry him to the Quarterfinals.

Falcoon - I know Somoza has some direct opposition to that.

Vernon begins picking himself up, holding The Avenger with both of his hands -- leading him up to his feet as well. Out of nowhere, The Avenger breaks the grasp of Vernon Somoza and leaps into the air -- kicking him across the back of his head.

Greene - What impact on that kick!

Vernon drops to his knees after the leaping enziguri -- with The Avenger landing on his feet, and laying a shin kick to the exposed lower back of his opponent. He starts to round Somoza, trying to keep him upon his knees with well-placed kicks and knees to any poorly defended part of his body. Eventually Vernon is able to grab a hold of one of the kicks and pushes himself back up to his feet -- holding The Avenger's right leg fully extended while he hops up and down on his left.

Falcoon - Somoza's caught him!

The Avenger kicks his left leg up, looking for another enziguri -- but Somoza catches that leg too. The Avenger falls flat to his back, with both of his legs clutched tightly under Somoza's arms. Vernon rolls backwards and swings The Avenger up from the mat -- catapulting him torwards the corner. He uses too much strength, and The Avenger is able to counter by leaping up to the second rope, facing the crowd. Vernon picks himself and turns to the corner to see The Avenger leap off. He turns and executes a spinning cross body, knocking Somoza down to his back for a moment. The momentum of The Avenger's leap allows Vernon to somersault backwards, keeping The Avenger held close to his chest. He rises back to his feet, holding The Avenger across his chest horizontally.

Greene - Uh oh.

Vernon then lets go of The Avenger's legs and swings him around his body and to his other side. He keeps The Avenger in the urnage as he drops down to his right knee -- and extends his left. Somoza crushes The Avenger across his back with the spinning backbreaker, sending him down to the mat in a lot of pain.

Falcoon - One word: Ouch.

Greene - The Avenger is going to feel that one for the next few days.

Vernon crawls towards The Avenger and rolls his shoulders flat to his mat, then lays across him. The referee drops down to his knees and makes the count -- 1... 2... The Avenger kicks out again, with Somoza looking even more shocked.

Greene - I'd like to know what's keeping him going.

Falcoon - And I'd like to hope that it's all-natural.

Greene - Yeah, I was hinting at heart and passion for the sport.

Vernon stands up and steps away from The Avenger, who is picking himself up with the last bits of strength he has. Somoza steps forward and lifts him up all the way to his feet -- sizing him up. Suddenly The Avenger hits a sharp forearm strike across Somoza's left cheek, which dazes him slightly. He swings back and nails a second forearm, which does further damage to the left side of Vernon's face.

Greene - The Avenger refuses to give up.

Falcoon - He's fighting Somoza with just about everything he has left.

The Avenger leaps up and wraps his legs around Somoza's head -- then swings himself backwards towards the mat. He tries to flip Vernon over with a huricanrana but Vernon just dumps The Avenger down onto the back of his head. The impact isn't great, but Somoza keeps a hold of The Avengers legs and positions them into a cloverleaf. Vernon locks his arms through and rolls The Avenger over onto his stomach -- locking in a texas cloverleaf.

Falcoon - No Mas on The Avenger!

Greene - Oh, he's getting stretched!

The Avenger struggles to break free, but he is unable to do so. Somoza sits all of his weight back, forcing The Avenger's body down onto the mat. He finally taps out, with Vernon breaking the hold immediately.

Sum Yung Ho - The winner of this match, and moving on to the Quarterfinal Round -- Vernon Somoza!

Greene - He had to give it up. He would have had his back broken otherwise.

Falcoon - Somoza is a force to be reckoned with in this Tournament.

Greene - And both members of El Plaga have moved on to the Quarterfinals.

Vernon has his arm raised by the referee, but he pulls away to walk over to The Avenger. He begins helping him up to his feet, and extends his right hand.

Falcoon - Wow, Somoza sure has changed.

The Avenger shakes Vernon Somoza's hand -- who then holds The Avenger's right arm into the air.

Greene - Great show of respect by Somoza.

Falcoon - But he better not focus on respect, because it will become a weakness at the Pay Per View.

Somoza heads out of the ring, with The Avenger holding his lower back in pain in the ring.

Greene - Fans we have to take a quick break, and then we'll be back with the Main Event of the Evening.

OWF
PRESENTS

AS THEY WILL STAND AT THE TIME OF THE PAY PER VIEW. FROM THE QUARTERFINAL ROUNDS ON WILL TAKE PLACE DURING THE COURSE OF THE NIGHT AT QUEST FOR THE BEST ON APRIL 26TH.

The camera feed opens off of the commercial, showing the backstage area -- and more specificially the door of President Specter. The "CJ" on the door plate is X'd out with a Sharpie and "Specter" is written right above it. The door swings violently open, and the crowd pops as Porta Prince enters the shot. Before he leaves, Porta turns around and addresses the President one last time.

Porta Prince - Hey Spec, good looking out man. I really appreciate it. You know, you can't really trust anyone around these parts nowadays....

Prez Specter - Tell me about it....

Porta Prince - See ya later Prez, and again thank you.

Falcoon - What the hell were those two talking about?

Greene - God only knows.

Porta walks down the hall, passing a few of the OWF SuperStars. Porta keeps his eye on a hot chick passing by until he bumps into CokeKid. CokeKid spills his SOLO cup full of beer from the contact, pissing him off in an instant.

CokeKid - What the FUCK, dude!!

CokeKid turns around and is looking directly into the chest of Porta Prince.

CokeKid - Whooooooooooaaaa dudemanbro. Chill out.....chill out...I'll just get another one. Now which way is the keg dude??

Porta Prince - Good idea CokeKid......you SHOULD go get yourself another beer.

Porta balls his fist up and lunges at CokeKid which forces CokeKid into a dead sprint down the hallway.

Greene - CokeKid got the hint not to mess with Porta.

CokeKid is picked up by another camera down the hallway, as he is screaming and still running for his life, believing Porta is chasing him. He runs by Mucho Grasa, and he stops to explain his problem.

CokeKid - Help!! I got a big black dude chasing me......AND I DON'T OWE HIM MONEY!!! HELLLLLLLLLLPPP!!

Mucho Grasa - Lo siento....no habla ingles....

CokeKid - Fuck dude!!!

CokeKid continues his sprint down the hall.

Falcoon - This is getting a little nuts.

CokeKid, who's looking behind him runs smack into Somoza, and CokeKid hits the ground quick. CokeKid tries to make some distance between he and Somoza, as the crowd pops at a pissed off Somoza.

CokeKid - Oh No!!! He sent you didn't he!?!?

Vernon Somoza - What the hell are you talking about!?!?

CokeKid - I pissed off Porta man.....and he sent you to finish the job!! Fine.....just please......not the face??

Vernon Somoza - Porta?? You seen Porta?!? Where is he at??

CokeKid - He's down the hall man!! And he's still probably coming for me!!

Vernon Somoza - Just get the hell out of here!!

CokeKid rises to his feet and bolts down the hallway. The camera stays on Somoza as he walks down the corridor CokeKid was running down. Somoza continues to walk until he sees Porta entering a room in the distance.

Vernon Somoza - Porta!!!

Somoza breaks into a jog as he tries to flag down Porta. The crowd erupts as two of their favorite SuperStars are on the screen. A chant of "FUn Can Kill You!" followed by 5 claps are heard around the TD Banknorth Garden. Porta turns around as Somoza finally reaches his destination.

Vernon Somoza - Porta! Wassup man......Where you been at??

Porta Prince - Around........handling business...Why wassup??

Vernon Somoza - I just wanted to say that I'm sorry man.....I cost you your title against Lopes.

Porta Prince - Well......You SHOULD be sorry.

Somoza looks at Porta suprised by his smart remark.

Porta Prince - I mean.....I make a name for myself, I become OWF Network Champion, and become the fastest rising star in the OWF! And it gets taken away by none other than my tag team "partner"......Vernon Somoza.

Vernon Somoza - What do you mean, "partner"?? Wasssup with the air quotes?

Porta Prince - Look Somoza......here's what I'm trying to say......Quest for the Best is coming up, and you know it's the most important tournament of the year.

Vernon Somoza - Yeah, so?

Porta Prince - So what, I'm saying is...In order for me to be the best, I need to have the best around me....And at the moment, you my friend, are not the BEST thing I can have in my corner.

Vernon Somoza - So what are you saying Porta??

Porta Prince - You saw the result tonight, so, I guess what I'm saying is this.......

Porta knocks on the door, and, "Coming!" is heard on the other side.

Vernon Somoza - Who the hell is that??

Porta Prince - That, ol' buddy ol' pal......is the BEST thing I can have in my corner.....

A woman opens up the door, and the first thing you notice are the legs. Cat calls are heard around the arena as the camera zooms in on her. She walks towards Porta and puts her arm around his waist as Porta sports a Heartbreak Kid-esque smirk.

Porta Prince - Face it Somoza....you're yesterday news and I need a fresh start. Miss Stephanie right here is just the fresh start I need. So, I'm going to go into MY locker room and begin my fresh start by celebrtaing my victory.

Vernon Somoza - This isn't right Porta, this isn't right....I told you I was so--

Porta Prince - Oh yeah....good match against The Avenger tonight. Maybe I'll see you at the Pay Per View.

Porta and Miss Stephanie let out a huge laugh as they walk back into their locker room. The camera zooms in onto Somoza's distraught face, who is left outside questioning Porta's actions.

Falcoon - I sense some tension.

Greene - I think Somoza is jealous.

Falcoon - These two have been so close, they can't let a simple miscommunication tear them apart.

The feed cuts back to the announcers booth at ringside.

Greene - Sometimes that's all it takes -- and when you add a beautiful woman to the equation, it's a recipe for disaster.

Falcoon - Campus Chaos was a very hectic card for a lot of people -- El Plaga included.

Greene - It's true, we saw JC join the Rogues and Specter make a claim to the Presidency.

Falcoon - And for those of you who may have missed Campus Chaos, the OWF World Heavyweight Championship match was one of the closest matches we've seen in a while. However, it ended in a bit of a shocking manner, as the man challenging for the title, The Phoenix, was dropped squarely on his head by Jesse Williams.

Greene - After the show went off the air, medical personnel were able to remove The Phoenix from the ring, though the big man didn't move at all from the time of impact until he was loaded into the ambulance to be taken to a local medical facility.

Falcoon - That's a scary thought. I wonder if he's alright.

Greene - You'll be able to ask yourself, Gordie. Joining us now, via satellite from his home in the End of Nowhere, is the current PDA Champion.

The camera cuts to a shot of Phoenix sitting on a black couch, one of his two pet felines curled up on his lap asleep. The PDA Champ is wearing a black neck brace, and he doesn't seem to be moving a whole lot—though this fact is lost on the audience as they erupt in cheers for the fan favorite.

Greene - Phoenix, it has to be asked before anything else...how bad is it?

There is a pause as the question is fed through the satellite system to Phoenix's home. The camera can see him sigh before he begins to reply.

The Phoenix - It's bad. The doctor says that I have two fractured vertebrae—the C3 and C4, to be exact—near the top of my neck where the skull meets the spine. It's been suggested to me that I have surgery immediately to repair the problem, or else I'm risking full-blown paralysis. It's not really a rare injury—there have been a few instances of it in the last couple of years in the world of pro wrestling.

The crowd falls into a hushed silence at this. It wouldn't be the first time a wrestler was taken out in the prime of his career.

Falcoon - So what does that mean for your future?

There is another sigh in response, as Phoenix mulls this over. Finally, he shifts his gaze to the camera and begins to speak softly.

The Phoenix - Wrestling has been a part of my life for over a decade. These last sixteen months have been some of the best of my life in a professional standpoint, but it's come at great cost to me personally, as many of you know. I think this is the Fates' way of telling me that it's time to hang them up. However...I know it's too late to find a replacement for Quest for the Best to take my spot. I made a commitment to be in the tournament, and as most of you know, I'm a man of my word. Despite this injury, I will be at Addiction next week—

The fans immediately erupt into cheers at this, and a near-deafening "Phoenix" chant breaks out for a few seconds before he is able to continue.

The Phoenix - --and I will be ready to face JC in the opening round. From there...we will see.

Greene - What of Trent Steel? How does that affect your eventual defense against him for the PDA Championship?

The Phoenix - It doesn't. Trent can bring what he wants to a PDA Title match, but he'll be walking away empty-handed like he has before, injury be damned. I will go until I realistically can no longer delay surgery, but I will be at Addiction, and I still intend on winning Quest for the Best. There's still fight in this old body of mine; come next Monday, we'll find out just how much fight I have left in me. Whatever the case may be...it's going to be one hell of a ride.

Falcoon - Well we'd like to thank The Phoenix for his time -- we know you are in a great deal of pain, but we appreciate you visiting with us. And best of luck next week.

The OWF-Tron fades out and the feed returns to a shot of the announcers booth. A very somber look is shown upon the faces of both men, who stare blankly into the camera.

Greene - He's screwed.

Falcoon - One has to wonder how the hell he's going to drag himself to the ring with that injury.

Greene - And could he have a worse opponent in the First Round than JC?

Falcoon - I don't really know. He's one of only a few people strong enough to manhandle The Phoenix.

Greene - And it will be a weakened Phoenix, at that.

Falcoon - Without question. I don't think this is smart on his behalf.

Greene - He's a fighter, even if he wanted to stay down -- he couldn't.

Falcoon - That's why he has become a warrior of the fans.

Next to the announcers booth, Sum Yung Ho steps up to her feet with a microphone grasped tightly in her right hand.

Greene - Unfortunately, many-a-career have swirled down the tubes being loyal to the fans and catering to what they want.

Falcoon - Let's just hope that isn't the case.

The cameras follow Sum Yung Ho as she walks towards the nearest set of ring steps -- and slowly begins to ascend them on her way to the ring.

Greene - Agreed. Let's get away from that subject, just too dim for me.

Falcoon - Especially when we have a Main Event between two men who have a very storied past with one another.

Greene - Just over a year ago, these two met for the OWF Triple Crown, with Trent coming out on top.

Falcoon - And Piter hasn't been the same since.

She steps onto the ring apron and enters the ring through the middle and top ropes. Sum Yung Ho walks to the center of the ring and positions herself facing the live camera.

Greene - You know he will be looking for revenge.

Falcoon - And Trent will be looking to dig his heels deeper into the sand.

Greene - Lets see who flinches first.

She lifts the microphone up to her mouth and begins to speak into the mouthpiece.

Sum Yung Ho - Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the Main Event of the Evening!

A few fans who were out of their seats rush back to them, and remain on their feet to look at the ring. Sum Yung Ho waits a few seconds, making sure she has everyones attention before continuing.

Sum Yung Ho - It is a First Round Match in the 2009 Quest For The Best Tournament, and it is scheduled for a one-fall under Normal Rules -- with no Time Limit. Winner of the match moves on to the Quarterfinals of the Quest For The Best Tournament!

A loud roar of approval rings out through the arena as Sum Yung Ho prepares to introduce the two competitors.

Sum Yung Ho - Coming to the ring first, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania... He is the reigning OWF Blood Tag Team Champion... Here is Trent Steel!

PA System - Now you're messing with a son of a bitch.

With a wide smile upon his face, Trent Steel walks through the curtains glances at the ring while his music blares loudly. The fans boo him with all that they have in their lungs. He takes slow steps as he walks down the ramp and approaches the ring. Trent keeps the anticipating at an all time high as he plays mindgames with his opponent by taking so long to get the ring. Steel slides under the bottom rope, positioning himself in the ring before pushing himself up and staring right at his opponent.

Falcoon - Steel has been a thorn in Svoboda's side.

Greene - Who knows what would have happened if Piter didn't lose the Triple Crown to Steel.

Falcoon - He probably would have lost it to Angel.

Greene - You never know. I always thought Trent got lucky.

His music fades as Trent takes up his position in his corner. Sum Yung Ho lifts the microphone back up to her lips and again stares right into the live camera.

Sum Yung Ho - And his opponent, from Boston, Massachusetts...

The crowd explodes at the mention of their location.

Sum Yung Ho - ... Piter Svoboda!

A loud applause followed by stark cheers ring throughout the arena.

PA System - Svoboda is here to get it on... So rock on, brothers, rock on.

An "M-V-Dub!" chant gets going as the beat kicks in and the Bloodhound Gang begins rapping.

Ashes to ashes
And funks to funky

No rhyme
No reason
No job
No class
And we don't go to the ghetto 'cause they'd shoot our ass!

The determined chanter stops as the curtain jerks aside and Piter Svoboda steps into view, decked out in winter casual a la New England and looking like he hasn't slept in at least a couple years. His left hand is in a white cast, stained with dirt and grime. He begins to slowly amble down to the ring, apparently too lost in his own head to notice the crazed crowd or the mortified commentary team. Svoboda drags himself under the bottom rope and into the ring.

Greene - But... I still say he looks like shit.

Falcoon - Regardless of what he looks like -- he won this Tournament two years ago.

Greene - That was... two years ago.

His music fades out while Sum Yung Ho steps through the ropes and exits the ring. Once she is clear the referee calls for the bell.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

Trent Steel and Piter Svoboda slowly approach one another, meeting in the middle of the ring and sharing some words. Steel shoves Svoboda with both of his hands, pushing him backwards all the way to the ropes. Piter doesn't take too kindly to that and returns to the middle of the ring -- thrusting both of his palms into the chest of Trent, who takes a step back not nearly as effected by Piter's push. He winds his right arm up back behind his right ear and throws it forward -- only to have it caught by Svoboda, who takes Steel down to his back with an armdrag. Trent slides along the mat and rolls right back up to his feet, rushing back at Piter who leapfrogs over his charging opponent and lands on his feet.

Falcoon - If there's one thing that Svoboda still has, it's his blazing speed and agility.

Greene - Too bad when he gets winded all of his advantages go out the window.

Falcoon - You know that Piter has been waiting for this shot -- he's going to bring a lot more to the table.

Trent rushes towards the ropes, bouncing off of them and heading back at Svoboda. Meanwhile, the second his feet hit the mat, Piter spins around to face Trent as he sprints back towards him. Again Piter leaps into the air, but instead he crashes across the chest of Steel and takes him down with a Lou Thesz press -- awkwardly mounting Steel and throwing his head down at Trent's. The two foreheads of the competitors collide, with the brow of Trent Steel absorbing most of the blow. Piter nearly knocks himself out as he collapses over Trent, somehow laying over him in a pinning perdicament.

Greene - That thud just made me throw up in the back of my throat.

Falcoon - And in addition to that, it may cost Steel the match!

The referee dives in and makes the count, 1... 2... but Steel pushes Svoboda to his right side, and starts to roll to his left.

Greene - Any harder, and Steel may have been knocked sane.

Falcoon - Don't you mean knocked insane?

Greene - No, I don't.

Trent gets himself up to his knees, clutching his head with both hands while Piter is able to spin up to his feet with ease -- although his forehead has a gash about an inch long opened up across it. The blood flows freely down his face as he approaches Steel, reaching down and helping him up from his knees with a tight hold of his hair. Once both men are standing, Svoboda digs the tips of his unkept fingernails into the face of Trent and rakes downward across his face. The referee steps in to warn Svoboda, who gets a warm applause from his hometown crowd.

Falcoon - Svoboda can do wrong tonight.

Greene - This is about the only place he'd get cheered for that.

Falcoon - Or cheered in any matter.

Steel holds his face, allowing Svoboda to take off towards the ropes behind him. After bouncing off of them, he heads back towards Trent and lunges at his legs -- taking out his right leg at the knee with a chop block. Piter bounces right back up, getting another loud cheer from the crowd as he approaches the damaged leg of his opponent. He grabs Trent by his right boot and extends his leg, pulling it away from his body. In a flash, Svoboda lays out and drives the point of his elbow into the groin of Trent Steel -- with the referee coming in and again blasting Piter for his techniques.

Greene - He better watch himself, he could get disqualified here.

Falcoon - I hope the referee doesn't try to get himself over by doing that.

Piter brushes past the referee and storms back towards Trent Steel, who writhes in pain on the mat. Grabbing two handfuls of his hair, Svoboda tugs Steel off of the mat and returns him to his feet. Svoboda wipes the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, then smacks it across the cheek of Trent Steel. Svoboda turns around to take in the cheers again, but Trent is right there to step up behind him and lock Svoboda in a reverse waistlock. Without warning, Steel throws Piter backwards over his head with a release German Suplex -- but Piter backflips out of it and lands on his feet behind Trent.

Falcoon - Great counter by Piter.

Svoboda rushes towards Steel as he returns to his feet and turns around -- only to see Piter flying through the air. He lands a double cross chop to Trent's chest, knocking him down to the mat for a moment -- but he quickly returns to his feet. The fresher Svoboda beats him in the race back to their feet, and approaches Trent. Svoboda balls up his fists and begins swinging them, one after the other, at the face of Steel. Of the ten punches he throws, almost all connect before Steel holds up his arms over his head.

Greene - Piter is going to absorb the crowd's positive reaction while he can.

Falcoon - He just has to be careful to advert his attention from Trent.

When he does that, Piter lowers his focal point and begins pummeling away at Steel's midsection -- sending him back into the corner. Svoboda breaks into a sprint, only about three steps away from Steel in the corner. He has no time to defend himself and gets cracked with a leaping elbow strike right across his left temple. The fans explode as Piter holds up his arms, turning away from Steel -- who gains his second wind and rushes Piter. He grabs Piter into a full-nelson and lifts him into the air, only to drive him flat down to his back with a thunderous slam.

Greene - You've got like ESP -- you do that all the time.

Falcoon - You watch enough wrestling, and you know what works and what doesn't.

Greene - So, I guess showboating doesn't.

Falcoon - Not usually.

Trent receives a ton of boo's while collapsing down to his right knee, while Svoboda is already beginning to roll back towards a standing position. He returns to his feet and runs at the kneeling Trent Steel, placing his left foot onto his bent left knee. He steps up and swings his right knee towards Trent's face, but Steel grabs a hold of Piter around his leg and pulls him down to his back. Steel hops up from his kneeling position and leaps into the air, pulling Piter's right leg to the side as he extends his knees. He drops both caps of his knees across the inner right thigh of Svoboda, prompting him to yell in pain as he clutches his leg.

Greene - Steel is a grizzled veteran and he is showin--

Falcoon - Wait, did you just say "grizzled veteran"?

Greene - Yes, because thats what he is.

Falcoon - I guess by definition -- but no need to bust out the cliche's.

Trent keeps both of his knees dug deep into the muscle of Svoboda before grabbing a hold of his foot with his left hand. He wrenches Svoboda's right leg sideway at the knee -- keeping all of his weight centered on Piter's upper thigh. The referee checks on Piter's willingness to continue as he flails his arms in severe pain. The fans get firmly behind Svoboda as he refuses to give up -- showing he wants to continue by shaking his head back and forth, as blood runs down his face and starts collecting under his head on the canvas. Piter pulls both of his arms back and places his elbows on the mat -- using them to push his back off the mat. He keeps his left elbow dug into the canvas and rears his right arm back as he lifts it from the mat. He nails Trent with a swinging elbow strike, but Steel absorbs the blow and keeps the pressure applied to his knee.

Greene - Piter really can't do much about this, it seems.

Piter falls back down to his back in pain, again declining to give up. He tries to move himself to the ropes, but he is unable to do so as Trent presses both of his palms down to either side of his knees. He presses upon the thigh and calf of Svoboda and kicks his legs into the air -- holding himself in a headstand for a moment. He swings his legs down, bending his knees and driving both of them straight down onto Piter's extended leg -- again wrenching the lower half of his leg to the air at the knee with his left hand. In a ton of pain, Svoboda kicks his left leg upwards and brings the face of his boot across the side of Steel's head. The kick dazes Trent, but he remains kneeling on Piter's leg -- now as complete dead weight. Piter does everything he can to squirm free, but it seems useless.

Falcoon - Steel has pinpointed that leg, and he's not going to give it up.

Greene - Not without being forced to.

Suddenly Piter sits up, and in a last ditch effort spits a mist of his own blood into Trent's eyes -- blinding him, and allowing Piter to free his leg. He pulls himself along his right hip, dragging himself towards the nearest set of ropes. Svoboda reaches them and hooks his right elbow over the middle rope, and uses it to drag himself up to his left knee -- digging it down onto the canvas as he starts stretching out his right leg. Steel furiously wipes his eyes with both hands, still trying to regain the sight in his eyes.

Falcoon - RED MIST!

Greene - You love it way too much.

Piter immediately breaks into a sprint and rushes at Trent, who is still temporarily blinded. As Piter reaches him, Trent boots the charging Svoboda right in the stomach, and tucks his head between his legs. He lifts Piter up by his midsection, and holds him in a crucifix powerbomb position over his back. Steel lines himself up with the nearest corner and runs towards it. Svoboda is able to slide down Steel's back -- forcing Trent to crash chest-first into the turnbuckles. He stumbles backwards right into a school boy roll-up by Svoboda. The referee drops in and makes the count. 1... 2... Trent rolls out of the pin and directly up to his feet, while Piter just starts pushing himself off of his knees. He ends up on the receiving end of a kick right to the face from Steel's left boot, keeping him on his knees.

Greene - Steel is content on just beating Piter into submission, I think.

Falcoon - He may just do so.

Steel chooses to scoop Svoboda off of the mat, and lifts him up to his feet. He pushes Piter against the ropes behind him, and grabs a hold of his right arm. He tosses Svoboda across the ring with an irish whip, sending him towards the opposite set of ropes at full speed. Piter is able to turn and bounce off of them with his back, sending himself back towards Trent. Steel breaks off into a charge as Svoboda turns and extends his right arm -- nearly decapitating Svoboda with a running clothesline. Piter hits the mat like a ton of bricks, rolling around on his back while Trent stands over him -- watching Svoboda very intently.

Falcoon - He's going to just pick his spots here.

He allows Piter to get up at his own pace, as Svoboda rolls onto his left side. Steel positions himself behind Svoboda as he picks himself up to his knees, and begins struggling up to his feet from there. Piter pushes himself quickly, too fast for his own good as he spins around to his right, directly into a spinning left roundhouse kick that knocks him right down to his knees. Immediately Trent takes off running towards the ropes behind him and turns to bounce of them back-first. He sprints back towards the kneeling Svoboda, who is still dazed from the kick to the head. Trent extends his legs and drives both of his feet into the face of Piter -- knocking him flat to his back with a front dropkick.

Greene - Geez, Piter's head is all kinds of messed up.

Falcoon - Trent has been relentless.

Greene - He's out to prove that his first victory over Svoboda wasn't a fluke.

Trent Steel rolls up to his feet, and decides against pinning Piter. Svoboda holds his hands over his bloody face, trying to wipe his eyes clear of the thick blood drying there. He rolls over to his right side, but Steel doesn't allow him the time to get back up -- stepping in and lifting Piter back up to his feet with ease. Svoboda steps back and looks to spit blood from his mouth -- but Trent put boths of his hands over Svoboda's mouth, trapping the blood inside. He nearly chokes on it as Trent hoists Piter up onto his shoulders.

Falcoon - He was prepared that time!

Greene - And now Piter is swallowing blood.

He positions himself near the corner, but Svoboda spins out of it and ends up DDTing Steel down to the mat as he twirls out of the standing firemans carry. Both men are down on the mat, with Svoboda on his back and Steel on his stomach directly beside him. Trent slowly pushes himself up to all fours while Svoboda rolls onto his right side, and away from Trent.

Greene - Svoboda just bought himself a bit of time.

Falcoon - Not nearly enough, though.

Trent shakes his head back and forth as he remains on his hands and knees, while Svoboda rolls onto his right knee. Trent sees this and immediately stands up straight and boots Svoboda in the chest as he tries to stand. Steel then forces Svoboda to his feet, and pushes him backwards into the nearest corner. He lifts his right knee into the stomach of Piter before ducking his shoulder down and seating him on the top turnbuckle. For good measure, Steel hits a right hook to the left side of Piter's face, keeping him on the top.

Falcoon - Steel is going up top!

Steel starts climbing the ropes, but Svoboda headbutts him with such force that he immediately falls down to his back. Piter stands up to the top rope, making sure to be careful as he turns himself to face the crowd. He leaps off and front flips forward one and a half times -- driving his right elbow directly into the sternum of Steel with an imploding 450 splash.

Greene - Impressive Display of Agility!

Falcoon - Wow, it's been a while since I've seen that one!

Greene - He absolutely destroyed Steel with it.

Piter remains laying on top of Steel, who desperately gasps for air.

Falcoon - And he's got him covered!

The referee dives in and makes the count. 1... 2... 3!

Sum Yung Ho - The winner of this match, and moving on to the Quarterfinal Round -- Piter Svoboda!

The Pro-Svoboda crowd explodes into a fury of excitement.

Greene - Piter did it!

Falcoon - And now he has secured his way into the Quarterfinals as well.

Greene - Listen to this crowd, they are loving this. That came out nowhere.

Piter rolls out of the ring before the referee can raise his hand -- choosing to celebrate with his fellow Bostonians. He rounds the ring on his way towards the ramp, slapping a few hands along the way.

Falcoon - What an eventful night, it's almost too much action to follow.

Greene - Yeah, almost.

Falcoon - And next week we find out the remaining Quarterfinalists for the Quest For The Best Tournament.

He heads up the ramp and disappears behind the curtain, while Trent Steel rolls out of the ring -- and begins hobbling up the ramp.

Greene - It's shaping up to be the best one yet.

Falcoon - We will find out.

Trent disappears behind the curtains, with the fans still cheering loudly.

Falcoon - We'll see you all next week on Monday Addiction!

The shot of the stage cuts to black.

The camera picks up the feed in the Parking Garage of the Arena, only a few minutes after the cameras stopped rolling inside of the arena. We are focused on the doors, as Jesse Williams is seen exiting the Arena, looking furious as he passes through the security check point. Over his right shoulder is his black duffel bag, containing all of his gear and the OWF and NLW Titles. Williams runs into a few fans of his, which have dropped in numbers in recent weeks- and he blows right past them. The camera pulls in, picking up Jesse mumbling to himself.

Jesse Williams - This is absurd. That son of a bitch gets in power and tries to screw me, not once- but now twice. I didn't have to come to fucking Boston. I could have enjoyed myself in Chicago-

Williams shakes his head.

Jesse Williams - Well, maybe not enjoyed myself. But at least I could have relaxed. Now, I have a World Title defense next week- and if I win that, I have another to look forward to in six days. Maybe even up to thr-

Jesse sighs, then stops dead in his tracks.

Jesse Williams - ..What the..

Jesse stares downward, and the camera pans to follow the direction to show Piter Svoboda lashed by his wrists and ankles to a rugged wooden cross. The camera lowers to Piter's bare chest to show the word SLOTH painted upon his chest in his own blood. A clatter is heard off in the distance, the camera shoots off in that direction.

A man is shown standing alone, silhouetted in the lamp light. He wears a white suit, with a black trench coat thrown over top. His face is turned down wards, his features masked by a black wide brimmed hat with a red stripe running around the edge. On his chest, a black crucifix is seen. The man raises his face up to show a white ski mask with a black cross etched on it. He then turns on his heel and disappears into the night, a single red rose left behind in the spot light. The feed cuts to the OWF logo, and then to black.