Mr P: Ladies and gentlemen, let me first start off by saying I'm sorry. Sorry about the venue issues on Sunday that stopped you from being able to watch your regular programming, sorry that Diamond Kid is currently MIA, and sorry that nobody knows enough about what happened to give you a solid answer. But...
With dramatic flourish, Perry guestures up the entrance ramp.
Mr P: The show must go on! So without further adieu, I bring to you,
Cali��..fornia���� Love�
Perry stops in his tracks as �California Love� by Tupac ft. Dr. Dre blasts over the speakers and Greg Jackson comes out slowly with taped ribs, wearing only baggy black jeans and white runners. He gets his usual mixed reaction, with many people cheering their hearts out for Greg, while others boo him, or are simply impartial to him. Greg climbs into the ring and is quickly handed a microphone. He doesn�t pace, he just stands in the middle of the ring staring out into the crowd before speaking.
Greg Jackson: You know� at Proven Innocent just ten days ago, I might�ve been the most popular person in OWF. And trust me, that was great to experience� but for some reason, that isn�t the case tonight.
This earns Greg a good standing ovation from the crowd, because of his reference to his match with Jesse Williams. After the crowd dies down a bit, he continues.
Greg Jackson: Oh I hear all you Greg Jackson fans in the building! And allow me to say thank you to all you Greg Jackson fans, from the bottom of my heart� But to all you fair weather fans out there, all you traitors, you can all go to Hell!
This earns a lot of applause from Greg�s fans, but mostly boos are heard from the crowd after he says this.
Greg Jackson: Maybe I was so popular last week because I was facing one of the most hated men in wrestling, in the biggest match of the night! That�s fine� You know what though? I wrestled my ASS off! I put my heart and soul into trying to win that match, and I was THIS CLOSE to winning the OWF World Title!
Greg nearly pinches his fingers together to show the fans just how close he was last week, and he gets a lot of cheers from his fans.
Greg Jackson: I guess it wasn�t meant to be though. And after I got powerbombed� off the top of the ladder� to the outside of the ring� I lost. YEAH, I LOST! YEAH, I gave Jesse Williams the fight of his life at Proven Innocent! But at the end of the night, he left me for DEAD outside the ring! You hear me? He left me for DEAD! Yeah, I lost, but you know something else? I needed you fans to pick me up! I know it sounds selfish, but God DAMMIT, I deserved a standing ovation after that performance!!!
The crowd has gone silent at this point, listening to Greg�s every word.
Greg Jackson: Everyone, for one night, was Greg Jackson�s biggest fan! However, when the match was over, when all was said and done, most of you people LEFT ME! You didn�t pick me up at all! I laid out there, on the outside of the ring, BATTERED and FORGOTTEN! Shit, I�m STILL hurt from that fall!
Greg motions to his taped up ribs as the crowd is starting to turn on him a little.
Greg Jackson: And why? WHY was I abandoned? Because, �OH YIPPIE! SHAUN STEWART IN DA HOUSE!�
The crowd cheers at the mention of his name, as Greg Jackson mockingly �raises the roof� with his hands.
Greg Jackson: That spotlight stealing son of a bitch! Whatever� in any case, NOBODY gave me a chance to win that OWF World Title. NOBODY! And when I almost proved everybody wrong? Yeah, after I almost proved all my doubters WRONG, those same people that were almost shitting their pants in disbelief as I nearly won the OWF World Title� THOSE SAME PEOPLE said, �I told you so� after I lost. They would say that like they knew all along, LIKE IT WASN�T EVEN CLOSE!!!
Most of the crowd is still fairly silent, with some of the fans booing Greg.
Greg Jackson: Well you know what? Fuck those people� Fuck Meca Blight, and Seth Anderson too! Fuck Jesse Williams! Fuck Shaun Stewart! AND FUCK EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU FANS THAT TURNED YOUR BACKS ON ME!!!
The crowd is really booing hard now as Greg says this. It appears as if Greg�s done as music starts to play, but it isn�t his music� Lights Go Out and you hear the song �Don't Put Ya Hands On Me� by Boyz N Da Hood....the pyro explodes as Greg Jackson is looking from the ring and sees the shadow of a man....and the lights shine on Silkk and he is standing there with his girl Jennifer! The fans erupt and start chanting "Carrington Fever" while Silkk stands on top of the ramp and raises his hands as the fans go wild! The music is loudly playing and Silkk begins walking down the ramp. Jennifer is looking sexy as usual wearing a short skirt with a spaghetti strap. Silkk is wearing a pair of faded Sean John jeans with a LaCoste baby blue shirt. He gets to the end of the ramp and Greg Jackson starts to pace towards the corner of the ring. Silkk helps Jennifer gets into the ring and Silkk hops over the rope and motions for the mic... You can still hear the chant "Carrington Fever" as Silkk stands in the middle of the ring with Jennifer and takes it all in. He starts pointing to the fans, then he turns around and looks at Greg Jackson in the corner of the ring and points at him and begins speaking as the music fades down. The fans are still loud...
Silkk: Damn, Greg Jackson... All I have heard you do is whine and cry. It�s ridiculous how you�re going to stand there and pick on the fans for something they have nothing to do with. You know what Greg?
Greg Jackson: What�s that?
Silkk: I mean it�s ok to call you Greg right?
Greg Jackson: �Yeah�
Silkk: Well Greg you are what I would refer to as a bitch!
Greg Jackson has a look of anger on his face as the crowd pops! Silkk cracks a smirk and starts pacing around the ring. Jennifer walks over to the opposite corner of the ring as Silkk continues to talk...
Silkk: You see Greg Jackson, you lost the match because you just couldn't hang with Jesse Williams... you lost the match because you don't have what it takes! Now with me back on the scene...
Fans erupt and start to chant �Silkk�...
Silkk: Yeah I'm back! But see Greg Jackson, I hate hearing whining and crying... I mean I don't have no kind of heart for you... Now Greg... I believe you owe the fans an apology!
Greg Jackson: I don't owe them a damn thing! They�re nothing but bandwagon fans!
The crowd obviously doesn�t appreciate hearing this, as the boos come crashing down.
Silkk: Oh but you see you are wrong! What if they actually gave a fuck about you Greg?! You come out here and talk about your injuries� and you seem jealous of Shaun Stewart! What did Shaun Stewart do to you?
Greg Jackson: Don't you worry about that! That�s my business!
Silkk: Son, you better check your fucking tone with me! I will crack your fucking skull if you don't respond to me correctly bitch! You was fucking up in the AsW, not doing a damn thing just being that middle man... and now you come to the OwF and you feel that you should be respected and everything? You haven't done shit!
Fans start to cheer after Silkk says this...
Greg Jackson: HEY! I'm the ASW North American Champion! You think since you are a Hall of Famer in OwF you can push me around?! Let me express who I am... I am the fucking future! I am the new prodigy of the OwF!
Silkk: Greg, shut the fuck up!
Fans start to laugh at Greg Jackson when Silkk is speaking...
Silkk: I mean you are correct I am a hall of famer in the OwF... but what you have wrong is that you seem to be implying I am washed up and can't hang with you... I hate to break this to you but you are wrong! I would hate to use you as an example but if you insist on running your mouth talking this big shit...then I will!
Fans erupt as Silkk motions Jennifer to get out of the ring...
Greg Jackson: I am injured! You see I have bandages and stitches all over me... I just went through one of the wildest matches in my career!
Silkk: And you lost! Lets not forget that Greg! You lost to Jesse Williams!
Greg Jackson: Whatever, I could kick your ass! You know what Silkk? I am tired of you already! Just like the fans were when you left OwF a couple of years ago...
Silkk walks up to Greg Jackson and stands face to face with him....
Silkk: Greg, is that a challenge you are offering me?
Greg Jackson: Depends... I mean you seem like you are dressed to look good...
Silkk: Listen bitch, I look good all the time! But hell I can kick your ass tonight if you want it to happen! Cause I'm feeling good and feeling fresh...
Fans erupt as Silkk takes off his baby blue LaCoste shirt and throws it to Jennifer on the outside of the ring and Silkk looks ready...
Greg Jackson: Is that supposed to scare me when you take your shirt off?
Silkk: Naw bitch, but if you want some we can do it right now! Fuck your fake ass injuries! You know Greg... if you ready, I'm ready...
Silkk drops the mic and the fans look anticipated to see what happens as you hear the Silkk chants. Perry steps between the two, putting a hand to both men's chests and pushing them gently apart.
Mr P: Boys. Boys. We've got a busy line-up tonight with some real competitors. I don't know if we have time to see your playground antics.
Jackson and Silkk both cast evil-eye glares at Perry who beams a huge grin across his face.
Mr P: Let's let the people decide, shall we? How many people here want to see Silkk back in action tonight?!
The crowd errupts.
Mr P: How many people think Greg Jackson could use a few more bandages?!
Jackson looks offended as the crowd errupts again.
Mr P: Sounds like it's official then. You two boys best get changed, it's Silkk versus Jackson up in a bit.
Jackson claps a hand over his head in shock as Perry slides out of the ring and Silkk climbs to the middle turnbuckle, throwing his hands up over his head to a chorus of cheers. Jackson slides out of the ring, heading backstage while taking a barrage of debree thrown from the crowd and Silkk milks out the applause for a few more moments before gathering his shirt and leaving himself.
Mr P: Now we've got an action packed line-up already, including the first matches of the Blood round of Blood, Sweat, and Tears, and it's only getting better. You won't see brutality like this on ASW Showdown. Probably largely because Kremlin isn't holding it this week after he realized that even his ASW fans tune in to Heretic to watch their favorite wrestlers perform.
Perry makes an overly dramatic wink at the camera, as if trying to make a false-subtle referance to his stunt pulled last week without adding addition grounds to the pending lawsuit.
Mr P: But now we've got two wiley old ring veterans locking up for the first time in years. These two are ready to give hell out there, and you're the lucky ones that get to watch it.
Perry handstand topples over the top rope out of the ring as Geraldo steps up to ringside, microphone in hand.
Geraldo: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred fourty three pounds, The Nubian Kid: NIIICK THUUUUUNDEEER!
A long musical riff begins and the crowd buzzes in anticipation as Dreams by Fleetwood Mac begins to pipe in dreamily over the PA system. Several moments later as the spotlights still fish back and forth over an empty stage, the crowd begins to grow restless, until the song hits the line "thunder only happens when it rains". With that, Nick Thunder steps through the curtains, throwing his arms out to his sides and basking in the spotlight. Walking down the entrance ramp, Thunder tries to slap hands with the fans, but most seem uncooperative, and reaching the ring with only minimal support, Thunder climbs the steps and into the ring to wait, leaning against the corner.
Geraldo: And his opponant, weighing in at two hundred sixty five pounds, he is one half of the OWF World Tag Team Champions, KEEELLAAAN HUUUUUNTEEER!
Back In Black by AC/DC blares through the PA system, summoning Kellan Hunter through the curtains with Tad O Minor a few steps behind, looming in Hunter's shadow. The crowd booes and heckles while Hunter walks towards the ring, pausing to put an arm over Minor's shoulder and point at Thunder in the ring, the two whispering back and forth for a few moments. Dropping his Tag Team title belt at the time keeper's table, Hunter slides into the ring under the bottom rope and takes his place in the opposite corner, pacing back and forth while his eyes are locked on Thunder. The bell sounds and Hunter and Thunder eye each other up and down from across the ring. Hunter starts things off, shooting in with a huge right hand. Thunder throws himself aside, taking ahold of the ropes to help himself back to his feet. Hunter steps backwards, bouncing off the far rope to add momentum, then racing forward and crashing into Thunder with a big shoulder block which smashes the more experienced ring veteran against the ropes and sends him stumbling to the center of the ring. Scooping Thunder up over one shoulder, Hunter walks in a circle holding him up, then tosses him to the mat with a powerslam. Hunter leaps into the air, coming down with a leg drop, when Thunder throws an elbow up and Hunter drives himself down into it groin first. Hunter rolls over on the mat, clutching himself in pain as Thunder gets back to his feet slooowly, then taps his temple in referance to his intelligence. Grabbing Hunter by the ankle, Thunder spreads his legs, starting to tie him up in some form of a leglock, but then stops and adjusts his grip. Then Thunder stops a second time, a puzzled look on his face, before finally letting go of Hunter and just giving him a simple stomp to the ribs.
Mancow: Looks like Ol' Man Thunder can't even remember how to do boston crab.
Larry King: And Kellan Hunter was never smart enough to learn one in the first place. Nick Thunder has been proving himself in the ring for fourty years. Give the guy his dues.
Mancow: Why don't I just give him his medication instead.
Hunter raises back to his feet, tieing up with Thunder and the two muscling back and forth. Hunter pulls Thunder into a front guilitine. Thunder hugs Hunter around the waist, lifting him a few inches from the mat, then toppling forward to turn it into a front chancery. Hunter only maintains the new hold for a moment before Thunder pulls a sit-out escape taking Hunter by the arm as both men get back to their feet and wrenching Hunter into an arm bar. Hunter pulls the opposite direction, guiding Thunder towards the ropes, until Thunder cranks Hunter's arm backwards into a hammerlock. Positioning himself between Hunter and the ropes to prevent a break, Thunder pulls upwards on Hunter's arm, bending him forward helplessly. Tad O Minor steps up at ringside, reaching in under the bottom rope from behind Thunder and tugging one of his feet out from under him to drop Thunder to his seat and break Hunter from the hold. The referee steps up to the ropes, pointing out of the ring at Minor and making a sign as if to eject him from ringside. Minor waves his hands in a placating manner, feigning innocence, then trips the referee as well as he turns back towards the match, dropping him right into the waiting hands of Hunter. Blackout! The referee lays facedown on the canvas and Minor snaps up a chair from ringside, shoving it into the ring. Hunter hoists it up, bringing it down over Thunder's back with a tremendous slap. Thunder drops to the mat, planting a kick to the side of Hunter's knee which drops the big man from one leg. Taking ahold of the middle rope, Thunder begins to pull himself back to his feet, only to find Minor grabbing him by his thinning hair and bringing him down throat first over the middle rope. Thunder rolls over onto his back, gasping for breath, while Hunter gets back to his feet planting a second chair shot to the ribs of Thunder. As the referee looks up, Hunter quickly tosses the chair out of the ring, Minor moving to catch it only to have it pass through his hands and bounce off the crown of his head, dropping him to the ground. Hunter rolls his eyes at Minor while Thunder pulls himself back to his feet behind Hunter.
Larry King: Well it looks like Tad Minor has been neutralized at ringside...
Mancow: All part of the plan, I'm telling you.
Larry King: It'll be interesting to see how these two seasoned veterans stack up in a fair fight now.
Thunder grabs Hunter around the midsection from behind, tossing him overhead with a german suplex. Sitting up out of the bridge, Thunder turns instead to the legs, his eyes lighting up as if he just remembered something, then twisting Hunter's legs around. The Thunderlock! Hunter howls in pain, pressing his body up on the palms of his hands and crabwalking backwards until he reaches the ropes for a clean break. Thunder lets go, pausing to lean against the turnbuckle for a breather while Hunter slowly gets back to his feet, obviously favoring the one knee. Thunder holds back, forcing Hunter to hobble to him, and the two tie up in a contest of strength. Hunter comes out on top, sending Thunder to the far corner with an irish whip. Hunter tries to race in afterwards, but slows to a walk as his knee nearly buckles, Thunder rebounding out of the corner alone, holding his lower back as if in pain. Hunter throws a forearm shot at Thunder. He ducks, snatching Hunter around the midsection and wrenching backwards for a belly to belly suplex. Thunder pauses after getting Hunter only a few inches from the mat, setting him back down and clutching his lower back in pain once again. Hunter grins as Thunder is bent over directly in front of him, hooking his head for a ddt. Blackout! Hooking up a leg, Hunter makes the cover. 1... 2... 3...
Geraldo: Your winner... KEEELLAAAN HUUUUUNTEEER!
Mr P: Simply amazing, folks. Those two men still know how to push the envelope.
Mancow: Yeah. "After all these years..."
Larry King: So you honestly think that the longer a wrestlers competes, the worse they get?
Mancow: No, but each surgery definately takes something out of them.
Larry King climbs up from the commentary table, two ring attendants placing chairs in the ring with King taking a seat in one corner.
Larry King: Ladies and gentlemen, it pleases me greatly this week to be able to bring to you one of the truely great talents in the sport today, a man revolutioning the industry with each match he has. So everyone, let's give a big bloodthirsty welcome for my guest tonight on Larry King: In The Ring.... "The Random Made Man" Meca Blight.
Don't call it a comeback! Meca Blight's voice hits the PA System. The music cuts in and Meca's own version of LL Cool J's "Mamma Said Knock You Out" begins blaring. The fans erupt as Meca Blight steps out onto the entrance ramp. He throws both hands up into the air as a rainbow of pyros blow up from behind him. Meca begins strutting down towards the ring, giving high-fives to the fans as he raps with the music. He rolls into the ring, runs over to the far ropes and begins shaking it furiously, then jumps up onto the closest turnbuckle and throws his arms up for the fans. As the music begins fading away Meca walks around the ring, folding shut his chair and raising it over his head as he turns towards Larry King.
Larry King: Wait Meca! This isn't a match. It's an interview segment, remember?
Meca folds his chair open again, taking a seat and crossing his legs.
Meca Blight: In answer to your first question... no, I forgot. Your next four better not be that hard.
Larry King: But Meca, the interview hasn't even officially started yet.
Larry King waves a stack of cue cards Meca's direction. Meca shakes his head No.
Meca Blight: Five doughnuts, five questions. That was our deal. Unless you've got another one in your suit pocket there.
Meca stands up, opening Larry King's jacket and pawing over his body while King gets a general look of frustration, trying to speak into his microphone dispite Meca's groping.
Larry King: So Meca, you're a double champion in ASW, and the OWF Network champion as well. That's a whole lot of gold for one person. To what do you attribute your sudden success?
Meca Blight: Well Larry, I'm a triple champion! And there are three things that atripulate to my successism. First, my Happy Eskimo Friend.. Zack Perry! Two, the great sweetness that is- The Doughtnut. The great seeded cooked dough.. Mmmm.. The food of champions! And three, when I step into the ring, I feel the power of every OWFite in the place! I do it all, and keep doing it for EVERY-SINGLE-OWFite in this place!
The crowd cheers. Meca flops back down into his seat and Larry King gets a relieved look on his face.
Larry King: Well it certainly seems to be paying off for you Meca. Now what about Greg Jackson? We heard you call him out last week, but there are still some that claim he should be Network Champion after beating you.
Meca Blight: Greg Jackson never beat me! He cheated! Jackson might be good enough to beat that steroid pumping Jesse Williams for the World Title, but he's definately not good enough to be Network Championship material. Nobody is going to take away my belt.
Meca hugs his title belt close to his chest.
Larry King: Umm... Meca, you do realize that's the left half of the ASW TV Title, right?
Meca looks down at the half-belt with a bit of a surprised expression, drops it to the mat beside him, then carefully compares the other two belts lieing at his feet before hugging the OWF Network Championship to his chest in an identical manner.
Meca Blight: No. I didn't realize that. And I'm ready for question five now, Larry. You got thirty seconds; there's a box of doughnuts backstage with my name on them.
Larry King fumbles his cue cards in surprise at falling into the same trap twice.
Larry King: But Meca, it's only five questions. We still haven't got to tell the people why you're called the "Random-Made" Man, or heard your pick to win Blood, Sweat, and Tears, or what you know about the whereabouts of President Diamond Kid. Can't you just give me two more minutes?
Meca taps his chin as if in deep thought.
Meca Blight: Sure!
Larry King breathes a large sigh of relief.
Meca Blight: But no more questions in those two minutes. My head already hurts from the last five.
Larry King tosses his cue cards over his shoulder and stands up, brushing Meca off with a frustrated motion of his hands. Meca glances to his wrist, as if he were wearing a watch, then picks up his two and a half title belts from the canvas and parades around the ring, holding up various ones at each corner and comparing cheers while he tries to fill two minutes.
Larry King: I don't know what you see in that guy.
Mr P: You see that gold. Each of those buckles is polished like an englishman's shoes. You look in them and you'll see a reflection.
Larry King: Buy a mirror.
Mr P: You'll see a reflection of Meca's talent, Larry. That man is nearly unbeatable. In fact, I've never seen him lose one on one. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have in my corner.
Cali.... Fornia.. Lovvvvvvvvvvve......
Geraldo: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first from Los Angelos, California, weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds, GREEEG JAAAAACKSOOON!
"California Love" by Tupac featuring Dr. Dre starts up, and Greg Jackson quickly appears at the entranceway with his ribs still taped up. He stares out at the crowd for a few moments, before making his way down the entranceway, and he�s actually receiving mostly �boos� on this night. His brother/manager Matt Jackson aka the Massicrist follows shortly after well behind his brother, as Greg slides into the ring.
Geraldo: And his opponant, OWF Hall of Famer, the legendary SIIIIILKK!
Lights go off and the pyro explodes as you hear Silkk's theme song "Don't Put Ya Hands on Me" by Boyz N Da Hood come over the PA System... The fans jump up when they see Silkk is standing there. At the top of the ramp you see on the OwF-Tron the words "Carrington Fever" while the fans are going wild. He is walking down the ramp with Jennifer and she is looking good as usual wearing her sexy gear that she does... The fans are chanting "Carrington Fever" as he walks down the aisle with the focused look he has. He continues to walk down the aisle until he eventually steps in the ring with Jennifer and stands in the middle of the ring. The fans erupt while Jennifer walks out of the ring as Silkk goes over to his corner and looks across the ring at his opponent as he waits for the bell.
Larry King: He's here! In action! The 'Bout It' one is here!
Mancow: Say that again.
Larry King: The Bout It one is here?
Mancow: Man, that sounds so gay when you say it. I can't believe you're a Silkk fan.
Larry King: Silkk is one of the last pure wrestlers left of the golden era. Williams, Tann, and he built everything you see here.
The bell rings while the crowd roars. Greg Jackson locks up with Silkk in the center of the ring, but Silkk uses his size and strength advantage and pushes Greg on to his back, much to the approval of the crowd. Greg quickly gets back on one knee, scowling at Silkk all the while, as Silkk smirks in Greg�s direction. Greg gets back to his feet and he tries the same thing again, locking up with Silkk in the middle of the ring yet again. Silkk turns and tosses Greg to the other side of the ring. Greg quickly gets up again and kicks the bottom rope in frustration. Silkk stays in the center of the ring as Greg circles him. Greg grapples Silkk again and Silkk immediately whips Greg into the ropes. Greg rebounds with great speed and goes for a cross body block, but Silkk ducks and Greg soars over Silkk, falling right into the mat in embarrassing fashion. The crowd, naturally, eats all of this up as Silkk toys with Greg Jackson.
Larry King: The experience of the veteran Silkk, obviously too much for Jackson to overcome.
Mancow: Give the kid a break. He's injured. Sh*BLEEP*, you don't see Williams out here wrestling the week after Proven Innocent.
Larry King: No, you saw him on Sunday Slaughter wrestling later that same night. In this industry, you need to learn to bounce back and you won't amount to anything.
Mancow: Need a remind you Williams lost that second match. Jackson's smart, he's in no hurry. Any smart fan knows he's got nothing to prove here.
Greg�s absolutely miffed now, slapping the mat and getting back up. Silkk is in a corner, leaning back nonchalantly as he waits for Greg Jackson to attack him again. Greg runs towards him in the corner looking for a forearm smash, but Silkk dodges at the last second putting Greg in the corner and Silkk on the offensive. Silkk winds up to lay into Greg� poke to the eyes! The crowd is howling as Greg holds his eyes, and Silkk holds his arms up, playing to the crowd. Greg is still holding his eyes as he gets up, leaning against the ropes. Silkk lines him up and runs towards Greg looking to clothesline him, but Greg drops to the mat, bringing the ropes with him. Silkk is caught off guard by this and falls to the outside of the ring, ending Greg's lesson in schooling someone. Greg doesn�t go back on the attack, instead taking a breather, calming himself down.
Mancow: Now that is smart wrestling.
Then, the OWF-Tron lights up. Meca Blight is standing there with a non-alcoholic beer in one hand and a toaster in the other. Meca takes a sip and spits it out in disgust, then crushes the can, letting it all pour down his hand before tossing it away.
Meca Blight: Yo, OWFites!
The places explodes in cheers.
Meca Blight: I've got a new friend for you all to meet... Toastie! Com'on say something to all the OWFites in MEMPHIS!!
The fans let out a cheer as Meca lifts the toaster to the screen.
Meca Blight: He's a little shy. Let�s go out and say hello to Greg Jackson!!
PA - Don't call it a come back!
"Mamma Said Knock You Out" by Meca Blight blares over the PA System as Meca cuts through the curtains. He lifts a mic to his mouth and begins talking as he walks towards the ring. Greg Jackson watches him, ready to fight as Silkk slowly gets up from the outside of the ring.
Meca Blight: Don't worry Greg, I'm not coming down to hurt you. We're just coming to watch you, both me and Toastie. BUT! You know what Giggy? I'm going to get you in the ring, in front of these OWFites and prove... *Meca starts singing* You can't beat me, you can't beat me!
Greg Jackson points to his head, telling Meca to remember their last match. He finally flips Meca off.
Meca Blight: Oh! So Angry! Everyone who wants to see The Cat Smasher in the ring, gimme an "OH YEAH!"
The fans yell out, "OH YEAH!" Meca Blight drops the mic and runs towards the ring. Jackson waves him in with both hands, ready to fight. Meca jumps up onto the ring apron, Jackson charges, Meca lifts the toaster and pops toast out! It hits Jackson in the chest, confusing him. Meca follows up by jumping over the ropes and smashing the toaster into his forehead!
Greg stumbles back and falls over, holding his forehead. We then see that Silkk has a chair in his hands and he slides into the ring with it! Greg is back up now with Meca in front of him with a toaster, and Silkk behind Greg with a chair! The crowd cheers as Greg finds himself surrounded! Silkk is looking right at Greg and goes in with the chair� side-steps Greg Jackson, AND HITS MECA BLIGHT WITH THE CHAIR OVER THE HEAD!!!
Meca drops the toaster as he collapses to the mat. That doesn�t keep Meca down though as he slowly gets up. Silkk sets himself up behind Meca as he reaches his feet� CRANK IT! Silkk hits his signature reverse DDT on Meca! The crowd is very torn at this point, many of them cheering for Meca Blight, many of them cheering on Silkk. Silkk forces Meca to his feet and again sets himself up behind Meca. Silkk bends over and lifts Meca up on his shoulders. Silkk faces a corner with a chair behind him, as Greg scales up to the top rope! Greg Jackson leaps incredibly high� BLACK JACK OFF SILKK�S SHOULDERS, ON TO THE CHAIR!!! Meca is NOT moving! A large �Holy Shit!� chant ensues after the move is hit! Greg smiles and rips off the tape around his ribs! He then motions for a mic and is handed one.
Greg Jackson: I�ll give you one thing Meca� You�re consistent! You�re also one crazy bastard! But you know you can always count on a crazy person to do something crazy! Meca, did you honestly think that I wouldn�t be expecting something like this? Here�s a better question� Did you HONESTLY think that I wouldn�t be prepared for you when you came down? Crazy and stupid aren�t so different after all I guess! You bought it Meca! Hook, line, and sinker!
Greg Jackson hands the mic to Silkk and hears the fans going wild as they continue to chant "Carrington Fever.� Silkk and Greg Jackson look around the arena as Silkk begins to speak...
Silkk: Now Meca, I apologize that we had to handle you like that... I mean I take trash out. Well OWF Fans I am back like cooked crack bitches! And guess what? In case you haven�t figured it out yet, Greg Jackson is with me!
Fans are going crazy as we see �Tha Kliq� signs in the air as the cameras zooms around the arena. Silkk continues to talk. Meca Blight is still down inside the ring, starting to stir as Silkk continues speaking.
Silkk: Now I know many of you remember the group of guys I use to roll with. They were called Tha Kliq....
The fans go wild!
Silkk: Well Tha Kliq is in the hall of fame now...so now I'm bout to bring something back that will blow you fans away... Right now tonight, Greg Jackson and myself will be starting a group called Tha YoungBloodz!
Fans are going crazy starting to chant "Carrington Fever" again!
Silkk: Oh yes... Tha YoungBloodz is here now! See everybody may think I'm washed up and shit, but I promise you, with my 29 year old body...I'm still young! Fuck I am a legend in the OwF! Now Meca Blight you felt my wrath and you got a taste of Carrington Fever...and many more of you guys backstage will get it to! Jesse Williams, I see you are holding something that I want, and like always I will come and get it... so watch your back bitch!
The chants calm down as Silkk keeps talking.
Silkk: Now I see some of the guys that I use to wrestle with are still around! Bryan Tann, like I said a while ago, its about to be Round 2! You got one on me, but next time you won't be able to stop me...I'm back fucker! Oh yeah Amaru, Starker, Prissy� Seth Anderson, Seth Price and all you guys that are in AsR! I can continue to go down the list, but you will respect me! Also I have some big news! This has to do with the tournament going on right now I believe its called Blood, Sweat and Tears? I believe the winner gets a World Heavyweight Title Shot! That sounds good to me!
Fans start to chant "Silkk" loudly...
Silkk: I, Silkk, The Legend standing here in the ring will enter himself into the fucking Blood, Sweat and Tears tournament!
Perry can be seem in the background rapidly scibbling over his notes, scratching things out, then holding an admission ticket up over his head and beaming a huge, surprised smile.
Silkk: Good Luck Bitches! And hey, this includes that worthless bitch of a champ... Fuck with me and I will blow you off the fucking map! Now hit our fucking music.....
Silkk drops the mic as �Feel My Pain� by The Game and Lil Scrappy blares over the PA system.
Larry King: Is he...
Mr P: It's official. Right now. Next week's Blood, Sweat, and Tears matches will pair Greg Jackson against Bryan Tann and Seth Anderson against Silkk!
The crowd erupts.
Mr P: Now ladies and gentlemen, will the more sensitive members of our audience please leave. What you're about to witness is the most brutal, most depraved, most violent spectacle seen in any non-MVW arena. Tonight, I can guaruntee you, at least two men will bleed. So with no further delay, let Blood, Sweat, and Tears begin!
The audience shrieks as the scratching of turntables begins over the PA.
Geraldo: Introducing first, from Atlanta, Georgia, weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds, DUUUUUB!
Stobe lights go off everywhere as we hear the phrase "BRING EM OUT, BRING EM OUT, BRING EM OUT" repeat over and over again and then we hear scratchin of the turntable goes and it starts into the song, "U Don't Kno Me" by T.I. Dub comes out of the back wearing black jeans and a white Jordan wife beater. He goes right to the ring and stands on the ropes in wait for his match.
Geraldo: And his opponant, weighing in at two hundred sixty pounds, AAAMAAAAARUUU!
The lights dim down in the arena as �Predisposed� by Ill Nino blares over the p.a. system. The crowd goes wild as explosions start going off and flares are coming up from the side of the entrance ramp. Flames are shooting out from the corners of the ramp as there is a figure rising up from a hole in the entrance way. The titan tron is showing shots of Amaru fighting different opponents from the past, the several titles he has held, shots of him putting the hurt on people. Amaru starts to walk to the ring as flames are shooting all the way down from the top of the ramp to the bottom in a follow the leader style. He makes his way to the ring looking confident wearing baggy jeans, a white shirt, a pair of brown lugz and his hair back in a pony tail. Amaru jumps to the canvas of the ring and crawls through the middle ropes and stands in the middle of the ring. From here a loud explosion goes off as all four ring post heat up as flames shoot from the top of them high into the air. Standing in the middle of the ring Amaru walks to a corner and pops his shoulders and neck and giving Dub not so much as a nod. Dub glares across the ring at Amaru towering over him as the bell sounds and the two men stare each other down. Dub takes a bold step forward, standing defiantly. Amaru explodes from the opposite side with a clothesline, his huge treetrunk arm crashing across Dub's chest and flipping him head over heels to the mat. Amaru raises a foot, taking a big stomp at Dub's head, but Dub rolls through Amaru's legs, coming up behind him and lashing a low blow up hard to Amaru. Amaru pauses, just momentarily, and Dub follows up with a forearm shot to the kidneys, then grabs a fistfull of the back of Amaru's shirt, spinning around side him and leaping into the air to bring Amaru down with a makeshift bulldog. Dub lays the boots to Amaru, landing three good stomps before Amaru grabs him by the ankle and pulls his feet out from under him. Amaru raises back to his feet, still holding Dub by the leg, and drags Dub over to the corner, lifting him up upside-down and ties him to the turnbuckle in a tree of woe. Striding across the ring dominantly, Amaru backs up to the far corner, then comes thundering back, smashing against Dub and crushing him against the turnbuckle. Dub crumples to the mat in a pile, and Amaru steps over the top rope and drops off the apron, retrieving a chair from ringside. Sliding it under the bottom rope, Amaru steps back into the ring, Dub hunched over on his knees with his head down. Amaru lifts the chair overhead and steps up to Dub. Dub bounces back to his feet, having switched all his rings to his right hand to make nearly a pair of brass knuckles from the gold. Lashing out with a huge right hand for Dub's face, Amaru jerks the chair down to shield himself from the blow and Dub's fist dents the seat. Dub takes a few steps away, shaking his hand as if in pain, and Amaru swings the chair in at him from behind, cracking it over Dub's back. Dub drops to his hands and knees at Amaru's feet, but as Amaru swings down with another chair shot to finish the job off, Dub slides out of the ring and Amaru hits nothing but canvas. Dub snaps off his gold chain, wrapping it around one fist and motioning Amaru out of the ring. Amaru paces back and forth in the ring, slapping the chair down over the top rope while Dub holds his ground on the outside, before finally stepping out of the ring on the far side to not leave himself open for Dub. Both men circle the ring towards each other, armed and moving closer tenatively. Amaru lets fly with a huge overhead swipe of the chair for Dub's head. Dub steps back, and as Amaru cracks the chair on the ground, Dub hops up onto the back of the chair still in Amaru's hands and shoots forward with a righthand shot from his fistfull of gold. Amaru lets go of the chair, dropping Dub to the ground from his perch and throwing him off balance enough that it's easy for Amaru to bat aside Dub's shot, before Amaru snatches Dub up by the throat. Amaru hoists Dub up with a choke slam, then turns and drops with him, slamming him down over one knee with a backbreaker. Jerking Dub back to his feet by his hair, Amaru drags him up on top of the commentary table.
Larry King: Hold up, Amaru. You don't need to do this.
Mancow: Get him, Dub. F*BLEEP*ng get him!
Amaru hoists Dub up overhead with a powerbomb, then slams him down through the table. Larry King and Mancow both throw themselves backwards, clearing the debree as Dub smashes through the wood to the concrete below. Amaru throws his hands up triumphantly and the fans scream. Then Dub rises slowly, wiping one hand through his hair and looking at his palm for traces of blood. Coming up clean, Dub plants a kick to Amaru's kidneys from behind catching the big man off guard. Amaru staggers forward, one hand over the small of his back, and catches himself against the apron. With a loud grunt, Dub raises up a half of the broken table overhead, taking a few steps forward and drilling it over Amaru's shoulder as he turns around to face the rapmaster. Amaru staggers backwards, clapping one hand over his shoulder as the broken wood scrapes over him. Covering it for a few moments, Amaru backpedals around the corner of the room, applying as much pressure as he can before uncovering it to show no blood coming from a deep gouge in his skin. The referee gives him the nod and Amaru bursts back towards Dub, smashing into the table portion in his hands with a double axehandle. Dub drops to his knees, the table being knocked from his hands and over his head and Dub bringing up a low blow between the legs of the big man. Amaru doubles up in pain and Dub squats under Amaru, lifting him onto his shoulders with an audable grunt. Dub takes a few timid steps, trying to carry Amaru towards the ring steps, but his legs begin to waver, unable to hold him up much longer. Wrenching his entire body to the side, Dub plants Amaru to the cement. Freestyle! Dub bounces back to his feet, standing over the downed Amaru and mouthing off at him. Amaru raises a hand to his brow, dabbing his fingertips at the sweat glazing over his face and checking the color. No red. With a smile Amaru throws both feet up from his laying position, planting them under Dub's jaw, cutting his trashtalking short and staggering him backwards to the apron. Amaru raises back to his full height, towering over Dub, and grips one hand over his head. Pinning Dub's midsection against the ring apron with his hip, Amaru pushes backwards slowly on Dub's head, craning his neck back at a painfully awkward angle. Dub squirm, his arms flailing out at either side until his thumb finally finds Amaru's eye and digs in, forcing Amaru to take a step back and let go. Grabbing the bottom rope with a pull up, Dub jerks himself backwards into the ring once again, glancing around the ring for something to use as a weapon. Amaru picks up Dub's chair from ringside, Dub heading to the far corner and quickly stripping down the turnbuckle of it's cover while Amaru climbs to the apron, then steps over the top rope and into the ring holding a chair in hand. Amaru rushes in with an overhead shot. Dub throws himself flat to the canvas, Amaru hitting the exposed steel bolt instead and knocking the chair out of his hands over the top rope. Dropping down overtop Dub with a knee, Amaru grinds him down into the mat, grabbing the middle rope and pushing upward on it to add more pressure as he crushes the life from Dub. Dub squirms for a few moments, then goes still. With a jerk of the hair, Amaru pulls Dub completely off the ground, slinging him over his shoulders and hooking his head under his arm. The Close Encounter! Amaru plants Dub to the mat. Dub lays unconscious while Amaru climbs out of the ring, methodically retrieving the chair and holding it up with a grin. The audience cheers.
Larry King: This is it! Amaru's got him.
Mancow: Get up, Dub! Get the *BLEEP*ck up!
OH MY GOD THAT'S THE FUNKY SHIT!
Mancow and Larry King: What?
The audience quicly begins a barrage of booes as the members of ASR race through the curtains, rushing to the ring with Cesar Elles at the rear carrying a large sack over his back. Amaru turns away from Dub, holding the chair up defensively as Greene and Price slide into the ring on opposite sides of him. Amaru takes a swing at Greene, who sidesteps it, then snaps a kick to the seat of the chair sending it back into Amaru's face while Price measures him up from behind. Cash Please! To the back of Amaru's head. Amaru falters to one knee and Price is quick to hook him up while Greene drags Dub from off the canvas, slinging him over his shoulders. Elles steps into the ring, shaking the sack for a moment, then dumping it out over the canvas. A hundred lightbulbs spill over the mat at their feet and Anderson points at the lightbulbs, then at Greene and Price, yelling orders back and forth. Greene plants Dub into the lightbulbs, blood spraying everywhere as glass shatters and cuts away at his body. Price slams Amaru down into the broken glass with the Money Shot! Blood sprays in all directions again, alot of it landing over Elles's pants while Price screams at the downed men and Greene folds his arms and sticks out his lower jaw.
Seth Anderson: Well, well! Look what we have here! I'm sorry for us to..."cut" in this match, but I was wondering something...
The crowd resounds in booes, littering the ring with debre as ASR stand over the fallen competitors.
Seth Anderson: ...I was wondering...what is it that could bring this Heretic show up to the level of ASW Showdown? What is it that Showdown has that Heretic doesn't? Seth Price and Cesar Elles drag Dub over beside Amaru.
Seth Anderson: ...Then it hit me! A DOUBLE PIN!
The crowd boos so loudly that it drowns Anderson out as Seth Price and Dan Greene both grab an arm of Amaru and Dub respectively and drape it over the other wrestler. Cesar Elles drops to the mat in the mock fashion of a referee. 1... 2... 3... The audience screams out at the blasphemy of it all.
Seth Anderson: ...THIS MATCH HAS BEEN DECLARED...A DRA-
Mr P: FUCK THAT!
The audience goes deathly silent.
Mancow: Did Perry just swear?
Larry King: I've never heard him say that.
All four ASR members turn around and look at Mr. P
Mr. P: I could give a damn less about Dub. And I could give a damn less what you do to Amaru. But my show, my tournament will not go down like this. This is not ASW. This is the OWF. On my show, people fight to the finish. Every time.
Seth Anderson: Go ahead and restart it then. Kinda hard to run a First Blood match with two men cut to ribbons. Maybe we could throw it out and do it again next week. Or maybe the "Blood" round could be changed to pinfall. You know, Pins, Sweat, and Tears. That's got a real OWF ring to it.
Perry paces back and forth, running one hand back through his hair and tugging at it in frustration.
Seth Anderson: So what about this semifinal spot? Because I think-
Mr. P: I don't care what you think! Last time I checked, you weren't booked until next week. So get the hell out of my arena. This does not fly on my show. I'll come up with something. You four, out of here!
Seth Anderson: Price is your next match, jackass.
Perry grabs his hair with both hands, then bulks up, fists clenched at his side, nose to nose with Seth Anderson.
Mr P: Then you, and Greene, and Elles get the hell out of my arena. And I don't care interferance or not, if I even see your faces again before we go off the air, then I'm giving Seth Price a nice "ASW-style" DISQUALIFICATION.
The ASR members look primed to attack, but Anderson holds them off.
Seth Anderson: Okay...okay. You want us gone? That's fine. I know Price can handle that ASW reject, Starker, no problem.
Anderson calls for Elles and Greene to come with him, and you can hear Greene say to Anderson "So what about my spot?" as they walk back to the backstage area.
Larry King: What are we going to do about Dub and Amaru?
Mr P: I'll figure something out. Just give me a bit. Start the next match.
Mancow: Man, they totally got you that time.
Mr P: I've beat half their stable in ASW matches already. They aren't going to one up me that easy. This is my show.
Geraldo: The following is a first round match of Blood, Sweat, and Tears, scheduled for first blood. Introducing first, now in the ring, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds, SEEETH PRIIIIICE!
Blue and red sparks burst from the turnbuckles as "Alive" by POD begins over the PA. The crowd errupts in booes as Seth Price throws his hands up over his head, walking back and forth across the ring, pacing in anticipation of Starker.
Geraldo: And his opponant, from Brazil, South America, weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds, STAAAAARKEEER!
Breathe by Prodigy begins to play over the PA system. Starker comes out from backstage full of energy and excitment. He tries to hype up the crowd as he walks slowly down the ramp to the ring. As he passes the crowds, he slaps random hands to try to win the crowd over more. Starker slides under the ropes to get into the ring and glares down Price from across the ring. Price guestures with a thumb over his shoulder to where ring attendants are sweeping the last of the glass and lightbulb fragments up and depositing them into a trash can, then drags his thumb slowly acros his neck in a cut throat guesture. The bell sounds and Starker explodes from a three point stance into Price, clipping one knee out from under him. Price rolls through the air over Starker's shoulder, landing on his back on the canvas, then quickly rebounding to his feet while Starker bounces off the ropes and comes back at him with a thunderous clothesline. Price gets an arm up in the way, deadening the impact of the blow somewhat, and grabs ahold of Starker as he bursts by, flipping up behind him and scissoring Starker's far arm between his legs to topple him to the mat with a crucifix. Letting go quickly, Price is back to his feet and measuring Starker up before he can regain his barings, and Price snaps in quickly with Cash Please at Starker's face. Starker throws himself backwards, landing gracelessly on his back but keeping below the kick, then lashing out with a leg to sweep Price's feet out from under him. Overshooting his mark and being tripped from below, Price's leg clears the top rope and he crotches himself, halting his assault while Starker gets back to his feet. With a big right hand to the side of the face, Starker knocks Price from off the top rope to the outside of the ring and sends him spilling to the concrete below. Starker slowly climbs to the top turnbuckle, amidst the cheers of the crowd, and glares at Price below as he slowly gets back to his feet. With a big jump, Starker drops down bringing a double axe handle over the top of Price's skull. Price drops to his knees, folding up like an accordian, and Starker sends him flat on his back with a boot to the face. The audience cheers again as Starker makes his way to the spare commentary table, now occupied by the regular OWF team. Larry King stands up, patting Starker on the shoulder enthusiastically, only to find himself without a seat as Starker snaps his chair shut and walks back to Price carrying it.
Mancow: Way to go, dumbass.
Larry King: A Starker match would have had me standing anyway.
Mr P: Nice cover.
Price pulls himself back to his feet as Starker stalks back towards him carrying the chair. With a hand to the bottom rope, Price springs back to the apron, jumping down with a drop kick which drives the chair back into Starker's face. Staggering backwards, Starker drops the chair and Price is quick to follow up, hooking Starker for a ddt and positioning him over the dropped chair. Starker pulls one arm up behind Price's back, grabbing his hair from behind and as Price plants him with the ddt, Starker's arm is solid between his head and the chair, saving his face from the shot but bouncing his elbow off the metal with a loud crack. Starker reels back on his knees, clutching his arm in pain while Price springs to his feet, grabbing Starker by the wrist, wrenching his arm over into an arm bar, then jumping into the arm to cover down over the back side of Starker's elbow with a leg drop. Starker screams again, rolling around on the mat and hugging his sprained arm close to his body. With a forceful jerk of the arm, Price pulls Starker to his feet, whipping him around and sending him crashing back first into the steel ring steps, knocking them loose from the ring. Starker rolls backwards over the separated steps, dropping into a crouch behind the steel steps, then disappearing under the apron. The audience goes silent in anticipation of what weapon Starker could have possably hidden and Price takes several steps back, putting as much distance between himself and the ring as he can. Starker emerges slowly legs first, then spins around facing Price and wearing a football helmet. Cheers boom through the crowd and Price looks shocked.
Larry King: Genius!
Mancow: Cheap!
Rushing forward with a spear, Price leapfrogs Starker and Starker smashes headfirst into the safety rail, but the helmet takes the brunt of the blow, Starker in no danger of being busted open. As Starker whirls around to face Price, Price grabs ahold of the helmet's facemask, jerking Starker to one side, then the other, putting him off balance before snapmaring him to the concrete. With a double foot stomp to Starker's chest, Price bounces to the opposite side of him, retrieving the chair from the ground once more and slamming it down legs first, aiming for the face opening of the mask. Starker rolls away, taking it on the of his neck instead and holds his throat for a moment coughing as he gets back to his feet, taking a few steps backwards and putting a bit of distance between himself and Price. Price eyes Starker for a moment, then springs to the top of the guard rail, leaping off and tagging Starker in the side of the head with a drop kick which stumbles him back into ring apron. Stepping up to Starker, Price unfastens the chin strap of the helmet, gripping it by the face mask as Starker plants a firm headbutt into Price's face. Price jerks the helmet from Starker's head, staggering away, one hand clapped over his face as he stumbles up to the commentary table. Starker follows him, looking excited as he waits for Price to move his hand. Price uncovers his face, a large purple bruise marking the beginnings of what will be a very noticeable black eye.
Mancow: Bruises don't count as bleeding!
Larry King: And why not?
Perry shakes his head No, motioning Price back towards the fight. The audience bursts into a surprising round of cheers.
Mr P: I think we'd all like to see more here.
Starker explodes at Price with a huge lariett. Price ducks Starkers arm, stepping aside and swinging the football helmet up hard, cracking it off the side of Starker's head. The helmet breaks off from the facemask, bouncing out of Price's hand and into the crowd to turn up moments later proudly worn on some fans head. Starker staggers aside, shaking off the blow with a wince of pain as flips over the commentary table on it's side.
Larry King: On come on, this is the spare! Where will I keep my notes?
Mancow: Calm down, Larry. You can save your one joke for next week.
Price pulls Starker up by the hair, hooking him around the midsection and pulling him upwards through the air with a belly to belly suplex. Starker crashes down, ribs first over the sideways table top and doubles up in pain, hanging there for a moment, then toppling over it to the far side and on the floor. Price circles the table, closing in on Starker for the kill. Grabbing Starker by the shirt and pulling him back to his feet, Price is caught off guard as Starker splashes Larry King's bottle of water in his eyes.
Larry King: I told him he shouldn't have messed with my table.
Crunching the plastic bottle down over Price's head does little to bloody him, but Price is disorientated for a split second, which is all the time Starker needs. With a handfull of Price's hair, Starker bulldogs Price down to the concrete. Starker tucks his toe under the chair, flipping it over on top of Price's ribs, then picks up the ring steps, holding them high overhead and crunching them into the chair, driving the wind out of Price. Price lays on the floor, curled up and clutching his battered ribs while Starker drags the trash can full of broken glass and light bulbs over beside Price. The audience starts up their chant. "We Want Blood! We Want Blood!" With a triumphant hand over his head, Starker drags Price up from the floor, hoisting him overhead for Rage! Starker moves himself, position the vertical suplex until Price's head hovers over the open trash can of glass. Rage! Starker drops Price into the piledriver position. Price scissors his legs around Starker's neck, reversing it and flipping Starker over the trashcan with a huricanrana, spilling the glass all over the floor in the process. Both men freeze in position on their knees surrounded by broken glass, quickly surveying their bodies while the referee eyes them over. Still, neither is bleeding. Price springs through the air, pouncing on top of Starker and mounting him, one hand around Starker's neck the other on the side of his face, pushing his cheek closer and closer to the glass while Starker's body trembles, every muscle working against Price. The screams from the crowd are nondiscript now for the competitors, just bloodthirsty, depraved chants of "We Want Blood!" Starker pushes both his own hands back into Price's face, raking at his eyes, trying to push him away, then grabbing him by the hair. Price slides up from Starker's midsection, straddling his chest now, the leverage overbearing Starker towards the glass. A flash of red bursts as blood sprays over the two men. The bell sounds. Starker and Price stand, Starker wiping the blood clean from his face, then holding one hand up high over his head. In his hand is a clump of Price's hair, torn clean from his now bloodied scalp. Price touches his brow in disbelief as Geraldo steps gingerly through the glass, raising Starker's hand.
Larry King: He did it! Starker did it!
Mancow: Un-fu*BLEEP*ng-believeable. Price had him. It was an inch away.
Geraldo: Your winner, and first to advance through Blood, Sweat, and Tears: STAAAAARKEEER!
The cheers from the crowd aren't as loud as one would expect. Instead, the chants are overwhelming. "We Want More! We Want More!" Perry raises slowly to his feet, walking smugly to the center of the ring.
Mr P: Hey, I've made it my mission to give the people what they want. In fact, that's so much my motto, why don't you people decide who should advance in Blood, Sweat, and Tears for me. Who do you want? Dub?
Perry pauses, pointing his microphone out towards the crowd. The chant is in unison. "Price! Price! Price!"
Mr P: Or Amaru?
The chants remain the same. "Price! Price! Price!"
Mr P: Price, you think you can hack it like this another week?
Seth Price looks up at Perry, his face a mask of crimson blood. He casts a glare at Starker, then back up at Perry nodding.
Mr P: I think you know what you need to do then. I don't like loose ends.
Price wipes the back of his hand across his face, splattering blood over the concrete with a flick of his wrist as he marches up the isle determinedly.
Larry King: Where's he going?
Mancow: Seth Price is taking care of buisness.
Video feed flashes over the big screen backstage, showing ASR hovering around a monitor in their locker room. Veins are bulging across Greene's forehead as he glares at Anderson, who is watching Price's walk towards the back with some sort of sick fastination.
Daniel Greene: You said that it would be me who got that spot. What now, Anderson? What about your plan? What about me!
The door bursts open with a swift kick from Seth Price. Anderson turns towards the door, catching a huge right hand from Price which staggers him back.
Seth Anderson: What the-
Price hooks Anderson up, cutting him off and smashing him through the locker room bench with the Money Shot! Elles climbs up onto a table, while Greene paces back and forth punching lockers. Anderson pulls himself back up, screaming at Price.
Seth Anderson: What are you both standing around for? Get him!
Elles leaps from the table, taking Anderson by the head and smashing him back into the cement. Straight Outta Compton! Anderson's head bounces off the cement with a sickening thud. Price and Green both pick up the broken halves of the bench, hoisting them overhead, then driving them simotaniously end first into Seth's head. There's a dull crunch as blood spills out over the floor. Anderson lays perfectly still as Price and Elles nod to each other, but Greene doesn't stop, tossing aside his half of the bench and twisting the unconscious Anderson's body over into the City Limits! Anderson lays still while Greene locks down on him, blood pooling around Anderson's head, his legs and back twisted at sickening angles.
Larry King: Oh... my... God...
Mancow: They didn't need Anderson anyway. He was just holding them back.
Larry King: But Anderson... he may never wrestle again after this...
Mr P: Then I guess he needs a substitute for next week too then, doesn't he?
Perry turns to the camera, yelling loudly while his face fills the big screen. A smaller split screen in the bottom right corner shows the ASR locker room where Price and Elles hover around the monitor, but Greene still refuses to release Anderson.
Mr P: Hey Dan! Daniel Greene! This is for you. I heard a rumor Seth Anderson might have accidentally been injured. If that turns out to be true, that would be a shame, especially after what he tried tonight. But, the show must go on.
Price and Elles point at the monitor and yell inaudable comments back at Greene, who doesn't seem to hear any of them as he cinches down Anderson even tighter in the City Limits, Anderson's body long since losing consciousness.
Mr P: If Anderson leaves here tonight in an ambulence, I want Daniel Greene to substitute for him next week. Just something to mull over. Now cut the feed back there before I'm legally liable for that.
The split screen cuts out while the audience screams, cheers, booes, and every other possable reaction imagineable. Perry tips the spare commentary table back up into position, leaning back in his seat as the camera pulls away from him.
Mr P: Eventful night for the new Perry-era OWF, eh? We're out of ti-
KILL THE LIGHTS!
Perry makes a neck cut guesture and the credits which were fading in in the bottom corner of the screen promptly disappear. "Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste" by Norma Jean kicks in, and the fans all jump to their feet in a chorus of boos. The fans look to the entrance ramp, and from the back we see Jesse Williams walk out, with a black t-shirt blue denim jeans, and a leather jacket, with the OWF World Title over his shoulder. He has a cocky look on his face as he stops at the ramp and holds up his arms. He walks down the ramp, to the ring looking out to the fans, and smiling at what seems to be all of them. He makes his way to the steel steps, and he ascends them and he steps through the ropes. He walks towards the ring announcer, and he grabs the microphone from him, as he calls to cut his music. The fans boo very loudly as he puts the microphone to his mouth.
Jesse Williams: Ladies and Gentlemen...
The fans boo.
Jesse Williams: Your NEW Outside Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Champion.....JESSE WILLIAMS!
The fans boo louder, and start to throw garbage into the ring.
Jesse Williams: Hey, just because you're all garbage men and women doesn't mean you have to bring YOUR work to MY work!
Mancow: Man, Williams has changed!
Jesse Williams: You know, I was sitting back in the All Star Wrestling arena the other night...
The fans all start chanting, "FUCK ALL STAR, FUCK ALL STAR"
Jesse Williams: Yes, I agree with you for once. But see, I was watching the OWF Pay Per View, and I realised something. OWF really is the place to be at.
The fans actually cheer.
Jesse Williams: And just like I said I was going to do, I walked out of Proven Innocent the World Champion. I took Greg Jackson to school, then to the hospital. Now, none of you give a shit, but it has taken me a long time to get back where I want to be. I didn't win this World Title until a few years ago, and now I have my second shot at the gold. I'm on top, where I belong.
The fans start a chant of "YOU SUCK", which Williams laughs at. He grabs his belt off the rope and holds it in his hand and holds it up.
Jesse Williams: I suck? Thats why i'm the World Champion! Yeah, that makes sense you idiots!
The fans boo, a crumpled up cup comes towards Williams in the air, but he sidesteps it, and laughs. He puts the belt back over his shoulder and starts to walk around the ring.
Jesse Williams: That's the best you got? Seems like you and the competition have a lot in common- talk a big game, but can't back it up with actions!
The fans continue to boo.
Jesse Williams: Yeah, do what you do best- turn your back on the people who you are here to watch. You're all hypocrits.
The fans boo loudly, continuing to show their disrespect for the World Champion.
Jesse Williams: Boo all you want, but I proved to every single one of you, and I proved to every wrestler in OWF that I am the Franchise. I am the best damn wrestler to step foot into an OWF ring, and there is no denying that. I came here with one goal, and that is to be the best and to stay on top. I plan on doing that for a long time, so for all you who think that your time to be World Champion is near, just know that for however long I am champion, your dream will NEVER come true. I sacrificed the ASW Title for this belt right here, knowing I could take back the ASW Belt whenever I want. How often does a chance to be OWF World Champion come around?
Williams continues to walk around the ring, every so often looking out to the fans, but never standing in one place for longer than a few seconds.
Jesse Williams: See, ASW coyly took the belt away from me. But that's fine. I'm taking it back soon enough.
The fans chant "SILENCE! SILENCE!"
Jesse Williams: Who's that?
Williams smirks as the fans boo.
Jesse Williams: ASW means shit right now, just like their World Champion.
The fans cheer at the put down of ASW, not at the put down of Silence.
Jesse Williams: Anyways, as I was saying...I put my blood, my sweat and my tears into this championship and this federation, and now I have something to show for it again. OWF is my blood, for seven years I slaved away and it paid off a few years ago, and paid off now again. I will do everything in my power to keep this belt, and nobody will take it from me..
He pauses.
Jesse Williams: Esspecially not Shaun Stewart...
The fans cheer loudly, as they hear the name of the man who came out and threatened Williams.
Jesse Williams: Stewart, look closely here and turn up your television set...You can't beat me. This isn't some shitty politically driven federation that you ran away to...this is the OWF. If you're going to threaten me, then atleast come on out now and do something about it!
Williams looks to the entrance ramp, as he waits for the music to hit, but nothing happens.
Williams: What's the matter? No dark lights? No Metallica? You coward..
Just then, the lights go dark...
Mancow: Shaun Stewart is here!
Larry King: Again!
The lights stay dark for a few seconds, then "Alone" by Twiztid kicks in.
Mancow: Wait, that's not Stewart's theme!
Larry King: No kidding! Mancow: Is that who I think it is?!
From the back, we see...SILENCE walk out.
Mancow: SiLeNcE is here! The ASW World Champion is HERE!
The fans give him a thunderous applause in his victory over Williams as he walks down the ramp, with the ASW World Title on his shoulder. He smirks as Williams looks angry in the ring. SiLeNcE reaches into his back pocket and stops at the bottom of the ramp. He calls for his music to cut, and he stares down Williams, as the fans are going nuts.
SiLeNcE: Obviously, I'm not Stewart. I couldn't just sit around and listen to this fool flap his jaws all damn night.
The fans cheer loudly as SiLeNcE's comment.
Jesse Williams: What brings your ass here SiLeNcE? Your trailer get swept up by a tornado!?
SiLeNcE: That's funny Jesse, you're a real comedian. Perhaps a new career is in your future. Especially after what I have planned for you.
Jesse Williams: Oh yeah, what's that?
SiLeNcE: I'm going finish what was started over in ASW. I'm going to end your career Jesse. Right here, right now.
Jesse Williams: Well then, if you're so confident, how about you put that belt up for grabs right now!
Mancow: They're going to fight for the ASW title?
Larry King: Impromptu match!
Mancow: This is OWF Television!
Larry King: So? It's a shame ASW's champion needs to show up here to get noticed!
SiLeNcE: You want this back Williams? Fine, I'll give you a chance...RIGHT NOW!!!
The fans go nuts as the referee walks out from the back, standing next to SiLeNcE
Jesse Williams: Let's go!
Silence walks towards the ring, referee right behind as Williams throws the microphone out of the ring and he puts his belt into the corner. He takes off his leather jacket, drops it outside of the ring and gets ready to fight.
Larry King: We have an impromptu ASW World Title Match here in OWF!
Mancow: Bahh, ASW.
Silence slides into the ring, and he throws the ASW World Title into the corner as the referee gets into place. He signals for the bell keeper to ring the belt, he looks around, not knowing what to do. The fans start a cheer of "RING THE BELL. RING THE BELL." and eventually...it rings.
Larry King: And here we go!
Mancow: Who do you think the fans are cheering for?
Larry King: Probably SiLeNcE. Tsk. Tsk. No loyalty.
Both men go at right as the bell rings, flying lefts and rights at each other, no matter how hard of a hit each man takes, neither waivers. Williams grabs Silence by his hair, and he brings his head down hard into a lifting knee from Williams, sending Silence down. Williams immediately jumps onto Silence, pounding away at him with hard rights and lefts. Williams doesn't let up, and he picks up Silence, pushing him into the corner and following it up with more pummeling to the body of Silence. Silence pushes Williams back, and Williams charges back, but is met to the face with a boot from Silence. Silence immediately jumps to the second rope as Williams stagers, and Silence dives off nailing a cross body block, he covers as the referee drops into place..1...2...kickout by Williams. Silence grabs Williams by the hair, picking him up, and walks him to the ropes. He irish whips Williams into the ropes, and when Williams comes back, Silence leapfrogs him, but Williams stops dead in his tracks after the leapfrog, and Silence turns around and as he faces Williams, almost immediately, he is met with a HUGE superkick, known as The Glassjaw, sending Silence down to the mat holding his jaw in extreme pain. The referee checks on Silence, but Williams pushes the referee away. He grabs Silence by his shirt and drags him up to his feet. Williams wraps his arms around Silence, and throws him over his back with a thunderous Belly to belly suplex, which shakes the ring. Williams stands after the impact and showboats to the fans a bit, as Silence crawls towards his corner.
Larry King: The OWF Champ beating on the ASW champ...the way it should be!
Mancow: Even though he's from ASW, SiLeNcE can tear a face off!
Perry glares at Mancow, tounging the stitches in his patchwork cheek from his match with Silence. Mancow laughs.
Larry King: So you're rooting for an ASW member?
Mancow: They both are, asshole.
Larry King: Not from my sources...
A few fans throw cups and other assorted garbage items into the ring, infuriating Williams, who keeps his back to Silence, taunting the fans. Silence though, continues to crawl to his corner and he grabs his ASW World Title. He picks himself up on the ropes and he faces Williams, who stops jawing with the fans, and turns back to Silence, ONLY to be met by a HUGE shot to the forehead with the ASW World Title, cutting Williams wide open...Silence covers Williams immediately..1...2...kickout by Williams!
Mancow: Thats what I like to see! BLOOD!
Larry King: SiLeNcE went for the cheap win, but Williams wasn't having it!
Silence looks up in disbelief and he stands, throwing the World Title into the corner. He lays into Williams with a few stomps to the abdomen. Silence backs off, and he grabs Williams by the arm.
Mancow: He's looking for The Silent Ending!
Silence rolls over Williams and lays across him, trying to put the hold on Williams, but Williams rolls free and stands quickly, planting Silence in the face with a quick kick. Silence reels on the ground a bit as Williams elbow drops the back of Silence's head, as he hits the ring. Williams stays down, locking a choke hold onto Silence, wrenching on his neck as well. Silence fights to get free, screaming in pain as Williams continues to wrench harder. Silence struggles to wiggle free, but he can't. He kicks his legs, eventually getting the tip of his toes on the bottom rope, causing the referee to break the hold. Williams doesn't do so immediately, as the referee pulls on his arm to release Silence. Williams eventually lets go, but he picks up Silence right away. He ties up with him, but Silence reverses, and locks Williams into an arm wrench behind Williams back. Williams tries to reach back to hit Silence, but can't reach. He somehow waits until Silence lets his guard down, and then he slips Silence into an arm wrench of his own. He holds Silence in the hold for a few seconds, but then Silence rears back and nails Williams with an elbow to the face, then followed by another. Silence breaks free, runs to the ropes, bounces off, and both men take each other down with clotheslines, Williams getting the worst from just standing still as Silence ran at him. Both men start to stir, Williams a step ahead of Silence as Williams gets to his feet while Silence is on one knee pushing himself up. Williams waits for Silence to stand, and Williams goes for a quick kick to the knee, but Silence grabs it, and takes down Williams to his back. He grabs both of Williams's legs, and he spreads them, then stomps down on his crotch. Williams holds his crotch, rolling in the ring in pain as Silence smiles. Williams rolls over on his stomach, and Silence jumps onto the back of Williams, grabbing both of his arms. He puts one of Williams's arms between his legs, and struggles to lock Williams's other arm with his, but eventually he does.
Mancow: He almost has it locked on him!
Silence then wrenches back on Williams's head with his free arm, completing The Silent Ending submission hold. The fans cheer loudly as Williams screams in pain. The referee checks on Williams, who refuses to give up. Silence wrenches back harder, as Williams screams get louder. Just then, Williams stops struggling and the screams stop. The referee looks at Williams, who seems to be outcold. Silence smirks, and lets up a bit.
Mancow: Williams is out cold!! HAHAHA!
Just then, Williams pushes himself up, with Silence on his back, into a firemans carry. He carries Silence around, then just as quick as he picked him up, he PLANTS him with a Death Valley Driver right on his neck.
Larry King: I guess not!
Silence lays holding the back of his head as Williams pulls himself towards the corner, so he can sit up. He pulls himself there eventually, resting against the turnbuckle, holding his right shoulder. Silence rolls around in the ring, as Williams grabs the ropes, hoisting himself up. Williams walks towards Silence, and he looks down at him. Williams then grabs Silence's legs and drags him to the center of the ring. He spreads his legs and he spits down into Silence's face. Williams grapevines the legs...and he locks in the sharpshooter.
Mancow: Sharpshooter on Silence!
Silence rears his head back in pain, as he screams. The blood continues to flow from Jesse's head, but he pays it no attention, just pushing down harder onto Silence's legs. Silence tries pushing himself up to reverse it, but the pain is too immense. Williams sits back further now, almost bending Silence's legs back to his head. Silence continues to fight the hold, but with nowhere to go he can only hold on for a few moments longer. Just then, Silence reaches under and grabs Williams leg, and he uses that as leverage, and he flips Williams off of him, and he locks Williams into a Sharpshooter of his own! The fans cheer loudly as Silence wrenches back on the bad knees of Williams. The camera gets a close up of Williams's face, which is a crimson mask, with more blood coming out by the second and forming a puddle on the mat. Williams pushes himself up, trying to fight, but his knees can't take this pain. Williams realises his knees are too weak to reverse the move, so he pulls himself up and reaches for the ropes. He crawls, dragging Silence towards the ropes. He grabs the bottom rope, but Silence doesn't let go. The referee tries to pull Silence off, but he doesnt budge. Williams then grabs the second rope, realising Silence won't let go. He now has the leverage and the Sharpshooter is no longer effective. He grabs the top rope and pulls himself up, and Silence is forced to let go of the hold. Williams balances himself on the ropes, but Silence charges at him, clotheslining him with such power out of the ring that Silence comes tumbling out as well. Both men spill to the floor, with Williams getting the worst of it. Silence picks himself up rather quickly, immediately lifting Williams who can barely stand on his knee. Silence irish whips Williams towards the stairs, but Williams knee gives out and he collapses to the floor. Silence smirks as Williams holds his knee in pain. We can see Williams kick his knee cap back into place as Silence approaches. Silence drags him to his feet by his hair, and irish whips him to the steel steps again, this time Williams's knee doesnt give out and he goes crashing into the steel steps, sending them tumbling over. Williams holds his shoulder on the ground as Silence showboats to the crowd. He eventually walks back to Williams, and he walks past him, picking up a set of the steel steps. He lifts it over his head and looks to drop it on Williams's knee, but Williams rolls out of the way and under the ring, out of sight to avoid the steps. The steel steps drop and send a thunderous noise throughout the arena. Silence gets frustrated and he reaches under the ring to get Williams, but Williams crawls out on the side adjacent to where Silence is. Williams sneaks up behind Silence, grabbing him by his hair to pick him up, then irish whipping Silence towards the ring post with so much strength that Williams falls from the force. Silence crashes face first into the ring post, cutting his forehead wide open. Williams fights to get to his feet, stumbling a bit in pain as he walks to the fallen Silence. He picks him up by his shirt and rolls him into the ring, as Williams rolls in right after him.
Larry King: Even though he is a very cocky bastard, he can wrestle.
Mancow: Just wait, SiLeNcE beat him once, he can do it again!
Williams immediately covers Silence...1...2...kickout by Silence. Williams pushes himself off Silence and he struggles to stand, but he eventually does. He waits for Silence to get up, egging him to stand up. Silence rolls over to his stomach and pushes himself up, not looking at Williams. Williams stares at Silence as he makes his way to his feet, and turns around. Williams goes for another sidekick, but Silence grabs it. He holds Williams up, as Williams is standing on his one bad leg. Silence laughs at Williams who struggles in pain, then out of nowhere Williams jumps NAILING an inziguri on the side of Silence's face. The crack of leather on flesh sends a sickening echo in the arena as the fans gasp. Williams falls to the mat holding his bad knee in a lot of pain as he continues to bleed. By now, the ring is covered in blood from both competitors, and both men are down. Neither man moves as the referee doesn't know what to do, so he checks on both guys- both of which push him away. Silence stays down longer as Williams pulls himself towards the ropes. He pulls himself to the corner and he slowly climbs up the turnbuckle, every step wincing in pain greatly. He eventually pulls himself up to the top rope, facing Silence. Williams calls for Death From Above.
Mancow: Get up Silence, GET UP!
Then out of nowhere, Silence jumps up and hits the top rope, crotching Williams on the top turnbuckle. With a burst of adrenaline, Silence walks to the corner and he gets up with Williams. He hooks Williams's arm over his head, looking for a superplex. Both men are now standing on the top rope, as Silence flips Williams back NAILING a thunderous Superplex that shakes the ring, sending both men down as the fans cheer loudly. Both men lay in the ring, neither moving. Silence starts to move first, just throwing an arm on top of Williams...1...2...kickout by Williams!! Silence pounds the ring in frustration, but still too hurt to stand. The fans are cheering, nobody really knows for who, but then Silence starts to stir. Williams is a little bit slower to get up, but he starts to move a bit as well. Silence hoists himself up, walking to his corner and picking up his ASW Title, and then crouching, waiting for Williams to get up. The referee checks on Williams, who is pushing himself up, blood still dripping from his wound on his forehead. Silence lays in wait as the fans cheer in anticipation. Williams pulls himself up with help from the ropes, and he wanders to the center of the ring, eventually turning to Silence. Silence charges with the belt, but Williams catches him in the gut with a stiff kick, causing Silence to drop the belt. Williams hooks Silence...ALL THE KING'S MEN! ALL THE KING'S MEN IMPACT DDT ONTO THE ASW TITLE! Silence is laid out in the middle of the ring, bleeding even more than before. The camera zooms in on the blood covering the ASW Title.
Larry King: SiLeNcE gets a bit of his own medicine!
Williams pulls himself up, and he rolls over Silence onto his back, in the middle of the ring. Silence's face is now even bloodier than Williams's. Williams hobbles to the corner, pulling himself up to the top rope a little bit faster than before. He makes the hand gesture for Death From Above...and he hesitates for a second, then launches himself off the top rope, jumping halfway across the ring...AND HE CONNECTS WITH DEATH FROM ABOVE!
Larry King: He nailed it!
Williams crawls back to Silence, and he covers him, hooking the leg...1...2...3!
Geraldo: THE WINNER AND....NEW ALL STAR WRESTLING WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, JESSE WILLIAMS!
"Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste" hits again, and the fans realise that ASW was just made fun of on OWF television and the fans all cheer at the misfortune of ASW. Silence rolls out of the ring as Williams stands up, and is handed the ASW and the OWF titles. He stands in the center of the ring, bloodied badly, and he hoists both belts into the air, for all to see. The fans cheer him very loudly as Williams limps towards the ropes and calls for a microphone. Williams puts both belts over his shoulders as Mr. P walks towards the ring, handing Williams a microphone, and smiling, mouthing the words "Good work". Williams calls for the cut of his music as the fans still cheer loudly. Williams stands in the middle of the ring, his face bloody, with both belts over his shoulders and he looks out to the fans.
Jesse Williams: Ladies and GENTLEMEN...
The fans all cheer loudly.
Jesse Williams: Your NEW ALL STAR WRESTLING World Heavyweight Champion.....JESSE WILLIAMS!
The fans cheer, and start a chant of "KREMLIN'S GAY. KREMLIN'S GAY". Williams smirks, and continues speaking;.
Jesse Williams: Now, When I said I would be taking back this belt, i didn't know it would be so soon. But I have no problems with that. Let me get down to business though, put the kids to bed, because i'm SHOOTING from the HIP right about now!
The fans cheer loudly.
Mancow: Uh oh, another Williams shoot.
Larry King: I can't wait.
Jesse Williams: You see, many years ago Bill and Beverly, or as you know them, Kremlin and Rose, grew a hatred for me. Why? Because Rose wanted a peice of Jesse Williams, and not in the wrestling way. The age difference is huge, but she didn't care. Why? Have you SEEN Kremlin? Come on. Anyways, it gets better. One day I called her out on it, and her OWN HUSBAND was faced with the truth that she was showing infidelity. And not JUST with me. Kozmo and Agent oo6 were also in her plot. Now, let's just say that make-up really does wonders for old stuck up bitches like Rose, because, that bitches face looked like roadkill left in the sun for a few days.
The fans cheer. Mancow and Larry King are heard covering their headsets, and laughing as well.
Williams: So, when I made it known that Rose was a WHORE, then they decided they no longer liked me. But what did that do for them? NOTHING. I won the World Title FOUR MORE TIMES WHILE THEY TRIED TO SCREW ME. Now, at the last Sunday Slaughter, they pulled another screwjob, but THAT is fine. I know that I can no longer compete in the Ass Sucking Whores because any match I have, will be a screwjob...so, fans of OWF, fans of ASW, and ESSPECIALLY Kremlin and Rose, look right here.........LOOK RIGHT INTO MY FUCKING EYES!
The camera zooms in a bit to Williams's face, as he points to his face, bloodied and battered.
Williams: I am your ASW World Champion...
The fans cheer very loudly as Williams looks at the belt on his shoulder. He takes it off his shoulder, and drops it in the middle of the ring.
Williams: AND I FUCKING QUIT!
The fans cheer even louder as Williams stomps down on the ASW Title, snapping the metal plating clear in half. He picks up the shattered belt, still barely held together by the leather and he holds it up. The fans start to chant "OWF! OWF!" as his music picks up again, and he walks down the aisle.
Larry King: I told you he was quitting!
The camera follows Williams up the aisle, dragging the ASW belt behind him. The camera follows him up the ramp and backstage. Williams walks past a few wrestlers, all applauding him. In the distance we see the parking lot, and Williams, even though in a lot of pain, walks towards it. He eventually gets there, he finds his limo and he walks to it, opening the side door, but instead of getting in he pulls out a bag. He throws the OWF World Title into the limo and he closes the limo door, and walks with the bag and ASW Title away from the limo.
Mancow: Where is he going?
Williams stops, right infront of a dumpster. He swings open the top of
the dumpster and throws the ASW Title in. He unzips his black duffel
bag, and he pulls out a squeeze bottle of lighter fluid, and we can hear
the fans cheering from inside the arena. Williams opens the bottle, and
squeezes all the lighter fluid out into the dumpster, then throws the
bottle into the dumpster as well. Williams reaches into his pocket and
pulls out a matchbook. He pulls a single match, and he lights it. Then
he lights the whole matchbook, and drops it into the dumpster, which
ignites in flames, burning the ASW Title. The fans continue to cheer as
Williams watches the blaze and smiles. He turns back to the limo, and he
walks towards it. He opens the limo door, and slides himself inside. He
closes the door and almost immediately the limo pulls away, the
dumpster still ablaze and nobody rushing to put it out as the OWF credits finally roll.
|
|