Jackie Kissens is seen in the backstage area with Matt Jackson. Matt is wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, three quarters buttoned up, and the sleeves unbuttoned. Jackie Kissens has a microphone of course.

Jackie Kissens: Matt, thanks for being here. Greg Jackson took quite a fall before losing the OWF World Title match against Jesse Williams. Could you give us an update on your brother Greg? His condition, his mood, anything?

She holds the mic up to Matt as he speaks.

Matt Jackson: Well he isn't in good shape at all, to be honest. He's got some fractured ribs, and the fact that he has to face Seth Anderson in ASW isn't helping things. I'm here on his behalf tonight for another reason though. Not sure why, but I'll find out soon enough I'm sure. Greg will be on Slam, but he isn't scheduled to compete. He's told me he has a lot to get off his chest though.

Jackie Kissens: Well that's good to hear! Will he be out of action for a while?

Matt Jackson: I don't think so.

Jackie Kissens: Good enough! Thanks for updating us Matt!

The sound of three gunshots go off, each one blasting out an O.W.F. on the screen and the cameras open panning over the crowd. The crowd errupts in their post-Proven Innocent cheers, screaming out excitedly for the solid OWF performance. Panning around the crowd, various signs stand out more than the rest. "KING King Piter", "Starker: Feel The Rage!", and "Team Destiny". One bold fan holds up a sign reading "Mr P 4 Worst Staff Ever" close to the camera as Mr P takes up center of the ring.

Mr P: Hello ladies and gentlemen, we're three days removed from Proven Innocent and the first official MVW match in five years. What did everyone think of King of the Mountain?

The screams are deafening. Perry chuckles.

Mr P: That's what I thought. Match of the month, you know. One hour in MVW can outshine a month of World Title tournament. But it's not me. It's not even those gladiators like Starker and Amaru and Piter Svoboda going out there and practically killing each other; it's you! It's the bloodthirsty wrestling crowds out here that drive us to do push the envelope week after week, not just outdoing ASW, but outdoing ourselves and anything you've ever seen before. You make us better, and we're here because you need us.

The audience screams again and Perry throws his arms out to the side, walking in a circle around the ring and scanning over the crowd to find the most active portion of the audience as his backdrop. Turning towards the new positioning of the cameras, Perry continues.

Mr P: We've got some exciting news for you fans here tonight, so don't switch over to Showdown. Trust me, I was at the taping. It's not worth watching. And for those of you tuning in to Heretic, live on Wendesdays, I might have a little something about Showdown if you stick around.

The audience hoots and howls and Perry laughs heartily.

Mr P: But you didn't pay for words, you paid for action. You shilled out your hard earned money here on the Dirty South tour to see men ripping each other apart. And I've got four men who are just dieing to do that right now. So now, if you would be so kind, Geraldo let's get this show on the road.

The cheers blast through the arena as Geraldo steps up from the ring announcers table, lifting a microphone and licking his mustached lip.

Geraldo: Ladies and gentleman, the following tag team match is scheduled for one fall and is for contendership to the OWF World Tag Team Championship. Introducing first, at a combined weight of five hundred sixty pounds, Heretic's own unstoppable force, Jack Destiny and Angel of Death, TEEEAAAM DEEEEESTIIINYYY!

Hells Bells by AC/DC pipes in through the PA and the lights dim, smoke clouding over the entryway. As the lights fade back in, two large sillouettes emerge from the fog. Jack Destiny and Angel of Death step out of the smoke, the audience bursting into cheers, and make their way down to the ring.

Geraldo: And their opponants, the man who hates Team Destiny more than any other, and the only man crazy enough to be wrestling just three days removed from King of the Mountain, at a combined weight of three hundred ninety pounds, MAAARTIIIN and JAAASPEEER RAAAAAGE!

Gotta Make This Money. Make This Money "Fist of Rage" by Kid Rock blares over the PA System. Jasper Rage steps through the curtains, sporting a nasty looking set of stitches down the center of his forehead. A few steps behind him, Martin meanders along wearing a shirt which reads "I may be White but that doesn't mean I'm rich... just kidding." The audience begins booing, throwing concessions at the two as they make their way to the ring, Martin sliding in under the bottom rope as Destiny takes his place in the corner and AoD starts things off for Team Destiny.

Larry King: Team Destiny had a solid showing at Proven Innocent. Some people even said had the sides been broken down more evenly, they would have walked out with the gold.

Mancow: Whatever. What I see is Jasper Rage, who was eliminated by AoD while they were on the same side, and Martin, the only one of the eight bodies carted off after King of the Mountain who's up and competing already. These guys might not be regulars, but they don't give up easily.

Larry King: They don't have to give up easily. Team Destiny can do it the hard way too.

(Ding, Ding, Ding...)

The bell sounds. AoD steps forward, towering over Martin who backhands AoD across the face. Martin laughs and AoD drops a huge hammerfist over the top of Martin's skull, driving him down to his knees with a single blow. AoD knocks Martin backwards with a boot to the face and Rage begins leaning over the top turnbuckle already reaching out for the tag. Martin looks up at Rage, shaking his head no, then rolls over and crawls back towards the powerhouse AoD. AoD grabs Martin by the hair, jerking him back to his feet and sending him crashing into the neutral corner with a thunderous irish whip. Rushing in after him, AoD smashing into Martin, crumpling him against the turnbuckle, then slings him up over his shoulders for Hells Fury. Rage dives into the ring, chop blocking AoD in the knees from behind and taking him down to the mat. The referee steps in, forcing Rage back to his corner where he reaches out once more awaiting the tag. Martin pulls himself to his feet, with AoD raising up alongside him to his towering height. Martin stumbles towards Rage, reaching out for the tag until AoD takes him down hard with a powerful roundhouse kick that nearly takes Martin's head off. The audience gasps and cheers.

Larry King: Angel Of Death has got to be the most agile of the big men. His martial arts training really shines through.

Mancow: It'll take a hell of alot more than that. Martin can survive anything.

AoD strikes a martial arts stance, holding back and allowing Martin to crawl to his corner and make the tag to Rage. Rage hops in over the top turnbuckle, bobbing and weaving around AoD, feeling out the big man. AoD snaps forward with a front lunge kick. Rage sidesteps, coming in on the left and spinning around AoD to hook him up with a whirlybird ddt. AoD shrugs Rage off, Rage going to the mat alone and AoD not budging an inch. Rage rolls backwards, coming back to his feet and brushing his hair back out of his face. AoD taunts him with the "bring it" hand guesture and Rage rushes in, taking low at the last moment with a baseball slide legsweep. AoD jumps Rage, then throws a rear chin kick which catches Rage in the back of the head as he tries to get to his feet, sending him stumbling to Destiny's corner. Destiny turns his back on Rage arrogantly, brushing his hair up and smiling to strike a pose for the cameras in the crowd. AoD rushes cross ring with a few lumbering steps, slamming into Rage with a body block that crushes him against the turnbuckle, then bringing in his two powerful arms on either side of Rage and boxing his ears. AoD reaches out, making the tag over to Destiny who points up top. AoD grins, hoisting Rage up onto his shoulders and taking to the top turnbuckle while Destiny waits below. Devil's Drop! from AoD. Rage goes crashing below. Just before Rage hits the mat, Destiny steps in, catching his head and he sails toward the mat like a missle. The Inevitable! Destiny makes the cover while Martin climbs back into the ring, rushing across to break the count. 1... AoD stops Martin cold with a big boot to the face. 2... AoD hoists Martin up over his shoulders. 3... AoD plants Martin's head to the mat with Hell's Fury again. The bell sounds.

Geraldo: Your winner, and top contending OWF tag team... TEEEAAAM DEEEEESTIIINYYY!

Larry King: Incredable. Those two wrestle like they've been working together their whole careers.

Mancow: We'll see how they hold up against a team like Styxx and Stonez.

Larry King: Like it or not, these two are going to be making a big impact in the tag circuit very soon.

While Team Destiny makes their way back up the isle in triumph, and Martin and Rage scrape themselves off the canvas, the big screen cuts to footage backstage. Starker is busting open the locker room door. He looks angry as he barges his way through the locker room, knocking down miscellaneous items out of the way. Sweat running down his face, walking at a fast pace, he looks over at some of the equipment managers. Starker- PERRY! WHERE'S PERRY?? The equipment managers shrug their shoulders to say they don't know. Starker continues his pace through the locker room, looking for Perry. Starker- Perry screwed me...I will show Perry what happens to people who try to screw me. I don't know what I am going to say though Starker stops in his tracks to the ring and looks confused. A voice pops in his head. Mountain Climber- arker.....arker.... Starker looks around to see where the voice is coming from. Starker- Hillbilly? I thought I left you in the Mountain. Where you at? Mountain Climber- errsk fur the wurld turtle.......errsk fur the wurld turtle.... Starker- The World Title? Mountain Climber- wurld turtle....wurld turtle..... The voice slowly fades away and Starker has a sense of revival on his face. Starker- Perry will give me that World Title shot! I will demand that he gives me a World Title shot! The cameras cut back to the ring where Mr P has taken center stage, beaming with pride. In his hand is an envelope. He looks out over the crowd, anxiously buzzing with anticipation, then smiles big.

Mr P: When Napoleon Bonaparte had nearly conquerred Europe, the King of England at last sent a messenger to him, asking him how it was that he had done this incredable thing. Napoleon's response was bold and cutting edge. He said "My greatest accomplishment was not conquerring this half of the world, but rather in the convincing thousands of men to fight and die for me for no more than a scrap of ribbon." In King of the Mountain, you saw eight men destroy themselves that same way, and this month on Heretic, I'm upping the anti.

The audience screams. Perry says a few more words, but the PA is drowned out by the booming response from the crowd and Perry has to clear his throat and go back to continue.

Mr P: In July, exclusively here on Heretic, you'll be seeing the first ever month of Blood, Sweat, and Tears. Three levels of the most brutal fighting ever placed on syndicated television. Eight men will give every ounce of fight they have, until we crown the first ever MVW BST... BEST IN WRESTLING!

The audience booms another resounding cheer while Perry fishes into his pocket, holding up a small, silver ring etched with the words BEST EVER.

Mr P: In addition to the bragging rights of course, and this nice little ring to show your friends, the winner will get something a little more sensable. A shot at the OWF World Heavyweight Championship. Because after the hell I'm about to put these men through, there won't be any doubt that the winner will make short work of Jesse Williams.

The audience screams again, the cheers dieing out shortly and then re-doubling in volume as Breathe by Prodigy kicks in over the PA. Starker throws the curtains aside, standing tall at the top of the platform, a microphone in hand.

Starker: I demand a World Title sh-

Mr P: Hold up, Starker. I got your admission ticket right here.

Perry pulls a bluish, purple ticket out of the envelope, holding it up over his head and Starker stops cold.

Mr P: Any man hardened by a year in MVW has what it takes to step into this thing. But whether or not you win it, that's really not up to me now, is it? You want your World Title shot? Here in the OWF you've still got alot to prove to everyone. Do your worst.

The audience booms again as Starker throws his hands up over his head excitedly. Perry turns towards the crowd, pointing out at them and waving the envelope over his head.

Mr P: I've got seven more very exclusive invitations right here in this envelope. Seven lucky men giving this opportunity to put their bodies on the line for a chance to prove their the BeST. Now if you'll turn your atten-

Perry is cut short as California Love by 2Pac pipes in over the PA. Matt "Massicrist" Jackson steps through the curtains as the audience errupts, stepping up to the side of Starker and glaring down the isle at Perry. The music and crowd dies down and Matt Jackson points up the isle at Perry.

Matt Jackson: What the hell! Greg just gave Williams the match of his life, beating Williams til he could barely stand, and you're going to turn around and offer this jackass a chance at the World Title? What about Greg?! Where's his chance as the BEST? Where's his chance to get Williams again? If you only knew-

Mr P: His chance is right here.

Perry thumbs quickly through the envelope, pulling out a second of the tickets and holding it up overhead along with Starkers. Starker turns, glaring down Matt Jackson suddenly and Matt returns the stare equally focused. With a nod towards Perry, Matt steps back through the curtains. Starker follows promptly after him and all eyes turn back on Perry. With a dramatic flourish, Perry guestures towards the commentary table.

Mr P: Now before I was so rudely interupted, I had a special treat lined up for you folks tonight. This week we're proud to have our good friends back on Heretic calling our matches: Mancow and Larry "King of Commentary" King. So for a special treat, my good friend Larry King here has something for you all.

Larry King steps up from the commentary table, a single spotlight falling on him and the rest of the arena dimming as he takes his position center ring and Perry slips outside inobtrusively. King clears his throat.

Larry King: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I'd like to give you the first of my series of personal interviews. Larry King: In The Ring. Asking the probing questions that you want to know. And tonight's guest is likewise one of the eight elite superstars invited to participate in Blood, Sweat, and Tears. Lets give a bloodthirsty MVW welcome for... DUB!

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. Dub marches down the isle, sliding into the ring under the bottom rope and steps up beside Larry King, pointing out towards the crowd while they boo.

Larry King: Dub, King of the Mountain was brutal, and you gave quite a showing. Why do you think so many people were gunning for you?

Dub: I knew this match was going to be a fight for survival and look at me right now, I survived and now I'm standing here today in front of millions of Americans watching at home.

Larry King: Piter Svoboda lit you on fire at the end there. Any personal words for Svoboda?

Dub: Yes... Piter, F(*BEEP*)K YOU!! You will regret that F(*BEEP*)KING MISTAKE!

Larry King: With one of the strongest showings in King of the Mountain, you really turned alot of heads in the OWF in only one match. What's next on Dub's agenda?

Dub: I told you all I would gain your respect. Next on my agenda is the World Champ: Jesse Williams. Williams is going to feel why everyone knows that I am the newest sensation here. Just like I did to Little Tornado in ASW. I'm going to make Jesse BLEED and taste his own blood.

Larry King: With the collapse of the OWF stable on ASW syndication, how do you feel about your former stablemates?

Dub: I think we all know how I feel about Jesse. He's f(*BEEP*)king dead. Duality is a good guy but I dont really talk to him. Same with Prissy, I don't really communicate with her. Meca and Perry are friends and Perry is my trainer. DK is the Prez and you always gotta get along with the Prez. He is a good guy.

Larry King: You were chosen as one of the elite OWF superstars to be given the chance in the Blood, Sweat, and Tears tournament to crown the true "BEST in the OWF". What do you have to say to your other opponants standing in your way?

Dub: Two words. Watch out. Also, I like the guys in this thing so far. Starker is a good fighter. He proved that. Greg Jackson is my homie from way back when, Eh Massi?

Larry King: Thank you, Dub. I'm sure everyone here is eager to see what you can do against our top competition.

The audience booes, concessions littering the ring as Dub throws his hands over his head proudly, marching back up the isle with his Blood, Sweat, and Tears admission in hand. Larry King returns to the commentary table while Perry steps up center ring again.

Mr P: Now that was some strong words from a hot new talent. If anyone's got something to prove in the OWF, it's Dub. He's just become an OWF exclusive, folks, fully jumping ship from ASW and stepping into the big leagues. This is where legends are made.

The audience bursts again, mixed reactions as Perry walks in a slow circle around the ring, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Mr P: Speaking of ASW, I promised you a treat, didn't I? A little something special to all the faithful OWF fans that are here with us tonight at Heretic while Showdown is draining the life out of Chase, BC. Well, never let it be said that Zack Perry doesn't deliver on his promises, or that an ASW main event outdoes one of my programs. I had a certain... vested interest in Showdown's taping this week, so I brought you all a little something for your loyalty. Allow me to present to you, ASW Showdown's main event, for the ASW World Tag Team Titles, a handicapped match between Duality and The Happy Eskimo Friends: Meca Blight and... myself.

The audience screams. It's not cheers nor booes, simply unbridled screams of shock and awe. With a dramatic bow, Perry makes a flourishing hand motion up towards the big screen where an image of the ASW entranceway is playing. A small white logo of a home camcorder appears in the lower right part of the screen, subtley taping the ASW programming.

Ring Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the following handicapped match is scheduled for one fall and is for the ASW World Tag Team Titles. Introducing first, at a combined weight of four hundred fourty pounds, they are the ASW United States Heavyweight Champion and one half of the ASW Television Champion, Zack Perry and Meca Blight: The HAAAPPYYYY EEESKIIIMOOO FREEEIIIIINDS!

Movin' Right Along by the Muppets chirps out over the PA system and a crazy video plays overhead of cut-out versions of Meca and Perry walking around fighting people in crappy South Park style animation. Meca and Perry step through the curtains, pink tshirts reflecting the bright rainbow spotlights and shining out like beacons as they make their way towards the ring amidst cheers and high fives with the crowd on either side. Sliding into the ring, Meca hops onto one turnbuckle, Perry jumping up onto the other side. Perry hoists up his US Title, dangling it in front of the crowd, while Meca holds up his left half of the TV Title. Cheers and laughter intermingle as the two drop from the turnbuckle and begin to dance, Perry doing the Mr Roboto and Meca doing the Sprinkler followed by his Russian kicking dance.

Ring Announcer: And their opponant, weighing in at two hundred sixty five pounds, he is the ASW Hardcore Champion and both halves of the ASW Tag-Team Champions, DUUUAAALIIITYYYYY!

"I push my fingers into my eyes..." A slow faint voice whispers through the speakers that will soon rock the arena. Smoke emerges from the entranceway and softly covers the stage and flows down the ramp leading to the ring. The speakers blare "Duality" by Slipknot and the arena is taken into an uproar as the ASW fans leap to their feet to catch a mere glimpse of a shady figure rising from below the stage. With a loud "POP!" from the pyro cannons the song speeds up and Duality rushes to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope then leaping to his feet with his arms held high, the Hardcore Title around his waist, a tag team title belt in one hand with the other over his shoulder. In his other hand, down at his side, he holds an alluminum baseball bat.

Duality: So some moth*BLEEP*king *BLEEP*sy wants to walk around demanding that I need some partner to defend my own fu*BLEEP*ng titles. Titles I fought for and kept without a shread of help from that *BLEEP*ckhole partner AoD. F*BLEEP* you, buddy! Come out here and say it to my face, so I know who you are to knock your teeth down your throat! I've got my partner right here. The only partner that I can ever trust and the only partner as motherf*BLEEP*ng brutal as me. My fu*BLEEP*g bat. Ring the damn bell.

The bell sounds and Duality points at Meca, making a breaking motion with his hands. Meca lunges forward at Duality, but Perry throws an arm in between them, shaking his head to Meca and turning towards Duality himself. With a timid pat on the back to Perry, Meca takes to the corner, then immediately reaches out for a tag. Perry smiles at Meca, only to be caught off-guard, clubbed across the back of the head by Duality with the baseball bat. Perry falters to one knee, then throws himself to the side, rolling back to his feet as Duality's bat crashes down in the place of his head just a fraction of a second later. Perry throws in a snap kick which glances off of Duality's jaw, then follows up shooting in low for Duality's leg with a takedown. Perry catches Duality in the crook of the knee, but Duality doesn't budge, and Perry's wide open as Duality crashes down another shot from the bat over Perry's spine. Perry throws a low blow forward, catching Duality between the legs and slowing him as Perry rolls away and pulls himself back up to his feet. One hand over his back, Perry moves slowly, stretching to try and work out some of the pain while Duality stands between him and Meca. Duality holds up the bat threateningly and Perry squares up his shoulders, coming in weaving from left to right. Perry sidesteps an overhand shot from Duality, throwing a punch that slips under Duality's arm, then wrenching himself backwards with the leverage to rock around Duality and onto his back. Fishhooking Duality's cheek and gouging at his eyes with the other hand, Perry claws away at Duality's face. Duality throws an awkward shot of the bat over his shoulder, Perry narrowly getting his head out of the way to take it over the arm, then Duality drives himself rear first into the corner. Perry arches back, his spine connecting hard against the turnbuckle, and Duality shakes him free, stepping out of the corner and holding the bat out at his side.

Ray Nolan: This is one match Zack Perry should have never asked for.

Matt Bradley: Nobody ever expects a match against Duality to happen without a price, but Perry's doing this for Meca.

Ray Nolan: The best thing Perry could do for Meca is lose quickly so Meca doesn't have to take this kind of punishment too.

Duality comes in hard with a shot to the ribs. Perry tries to dive aside, but Duality swings through, catching him firmly regardless. Perry hits the mat with a roll, putting as much distance between him and Duality as he can, then springing back to his feet and jumping to the middle rope to springboard back Duality's direction. Duality ducks low, Perry overshooting his mark, but coming down behind him with a surprisingly agile land and sweeping Duality's feet out from below him. Duality drops to the mat, caught off guard, and Perry stomps down over his wrist, pinning down the baseball bat arm. Duality rolls up to his side, planting a stiff left hand to Perry's kidneys, then slams his arm into the back of Perry's knees, taking his legs out from under him. Raising ominously back to his feet, Duality holds the bat out at his side once again. He throws another low shot at the grounded Perry, this time meeting only canvas as Perry scrambles between Duality's legs and springs up behind him, taking to Duality's arm with a hug, then clamping down and biting his index finger. Duality screams, not in pain but in rage, planting a heavy headbutt across the back of Perry's skull. Perry clenches his teeth down harder as Duality tries to shake him free, Duality giving him a second stiff headbutt before finally dropping the bat. Perry releases, kicking the bat under the bottom rope and out into the crowd where a lucky front row fan holds it up proudly and it seems to vanish from all sight. Duality grabs a handful of Perry's hair, jerking him upright, then drags Perry to the far corner, tearing off the turnbuckle pad with one hand and driving Perry's face down into the exposed steel bolt. Blood spills from a deep gash across his temple as Perry falters to one knee, holding the middle rope just to avoid collapsing. Duality drags Perry back up, slumping him over the exposed turnbuckle bolt as Perry looks into a close-up of the camera, blood covering his face. Duality steps back, then kicks forward hard, smashing Perry's ribs against the exposed steel. Perry drops weakly to his knees, then doubles over and vomits up blood.

Matt Bradley: For the love of God, somebody stop this.

Ray Nolan: Perry can stop it any time he wants. He's just so dumb he deserves what he's getting.

With a sickening smile, Duality hoists Perry up onto his shoulders, set-up for the Dichotomy. Perry topples off backwards, hitting the canvas facedown and crawling away before Duality can put him away. Meca is reaching out, practically begging for the tag. Duality grabs Perry by the hair, lifting him up, then dragging him towards Meca's corner and dangling the bloodied man's body in front of Meca. Meca's screams and points while Perry struggles just to raise a hand to placate Meca. Duality hooks Perry for the reverse ddt. Perry throws a back elbow, convieniantly at crotch level for Duality, and stuns the big man. Duality's hands drop below his waistline and Perry turns towards Meca, taking a staggering step towards his corner. Duality's hand flashes up from his beltline, the light glinting off of steel as Duality throws a hand to Perry's face. Perry stops cold and the cameras close in, Duality's hand clenched around a butcher knife, the blade shoves through the edge of Perry's throat and under his chin, the point sticking out his cheek. Perry stands perfectly still, as if in a daze, then collapses to the mat in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. Meca screams. Duality howls. Perry blood runs over the canvas, dripping down the apron and to the floor as he flows like a stuck pig. EMTs and Paramedics rush to the ring, rolling over Perry's pale, clammy body. Meca screams, security restraining him as he flails wildly trying to get at Duality. Duality pushes aside the EMTs, pulling the knife from Perry's face and raising it to his lips, licking away Perry's blood.

Matt Bradley: Oh this is just sick. Somebody stop this.

Ray Nolan: Perry's got to be seriously hurt. They're removing him from the ring.

Matt Bradley: That man's been through alot of brutal match-ups, but I've never seen him not finish one before.

The EMTs click Perry's backboard into position on the stretcher, wheeling him over towards the outside of the ring. Meca leans down over Perry and Perry raises a feeble hand, pulling away his oxygen mask and whispering a few words to Meca... then tagging him with a poke to the nose. Meca bounds the top rope, hurdling Perry's stretcher and sailing into Duality with a double foot drop kick to the midsection. Duality looks up confused as the referee steps back into position, shaking his head No and waving the match continue. Duality holds out the butcher knife threateningly, slicing the referee across the forearm as he moves to take it away. Duality comes in with a cross slash, which Meca leaps over, smashing into Duality across the side of the head with a spinning heel kick. Duality smashes to the canvas and the knife clatters a few inches from his hand, Meca snatching it from the mat and stabbing it down into Duality's shoulder. Duality throws Meca off, grabbing the ropes with one hand and pulling himself to his feet, pulling the knife from his shoulder and tossing it aside. Duality and Meca tie up, Duality powering Meca backwards to the corner, then planting a knee into his midsection. Meca doubles over and Duality hooks him behind the head, planting Meca into the mat with a ddt. Duality rolls Meca over, making a lateral press and drizzling blood from his shoulder down over Meca as the referee slides to the mat and makes the count. 1... 2... Meca pulls a shoulder up, responding immediately with a three stooges poke to the eyes. Duality reels back, Meca somersaulting to his feet, then making a kung fu-ish kick to Duality's jaw. Duality stumbles and Meca rushes in with a big body splash. Duality steps aside, slamming a fist down into Meca's back which brings him throat first over the top rope. Meca stumbles backwards and Duality nearly takes his head off with a thunderous clothesline. Duality grabs Meca by the mask, dragging him up to his feet, then hoisting him onto his shoulder for the Dichotomy. Meca reaches down with one hand, smearing Duality's facepaint and rubbing it into his eyes. Duality stumbles around blinded momentarily and Meca drops off his shoulders, coming down behind him Duality and grabbing him by the side of the head. Leading Duality in a run towards the corner, Meca springs up to the top rope, tightrope walking quickly along, then somersaulting over Duality's head and bringing him to the mat with a bulldog. The audience bursts into cheers. Duality raises up slowly, the red tint of blood shining off his black singlet. Meca spins around to face him and meets a huge gripping hand around his throat. Duality hoists Meca overhead strangling him, walking backwards and slamming Meca into the corner. Driving repeated right hands into Meca's face, blood begins to trickle out from under Meca's mask, Duality blows echoing a dull crunch through the ominously quiet arena. Meca's knees wobble and he goes limp, collapsing backwards against the turnbuckle. Duality tosses Meca up, sitting him on the top turnbuckle, then steps to the middle rope, hooking Meca up for a ddt.

Ray Nolan: And this is what happens when you step in the ring with Duality.

Matt Bradley: Good god, he's a monster.

Duality tries to topple backwards with the top rope ddt. Meca lashes his arms around Duality, tieing him up in a bearhug and holding Duality hanging from the turnbuckle, Meca's knuckles going white from the strain. Snapping backwards, Meca lifts Duality from the ropes. The MecaPlex! From the top rope over the turnbuckle, both men plummetting outside the ring and Meca driving Duality through the commentary table.

Ray Nolan: Holy s-

Matt Bradley: They don't pay us enough!

The commentators abandon their post while both mangled bodies lay in the wreckage of wood and metal and computer monitors. Meca stirs, rolling over and raising up to his knees, looking down at Duality. Duality's hand shoots up, clamping around Meca's throat. The headsets from the fleeing commentary team catch Meca's words.

Meca Blight: Lesson over!

Meca picks up the large computer monitor from the commentary wreckage, hoisting it overhead and slamming it down over Duality's head. Duality's hand drops back limp and Meca stands up triumphant. Dragging Duality up by the arm, Meca rolls Duality back into the ring, crawling in after and making a weak cover with one arm as he himself collapses in exhaustion. 1... 2... 3...

ring announcer: Your winners and new ASW World Tag Team Champions: Meca Blight and Zack Perry: THE HAAAPPYYY EEESKIIIMOOO FRIIIEEEEENDS!

The feed cuts back to the OWF arena where silence fills the stadium. Even Perry is at a loss for words as he stares at the big screen overhead and the brutality he'd just witnessed. The silence is then broken by a boom of the PA system.

PA: Don't call it a come back!

The fans jump out of their seats as Meca Blight steps out onto the entrance ramp. Meca throws his arms up, One ASW Tag Title in one hand and his TeleTag championship in the other. The left side on the ASW TV title, the right side of his ASW Tag Team title. His OWF Network title is wrapped tightly around his waist. Pyro's fly from the stage. Meca turns around and watches them fly, giggling to himself. He turns around, places his belts on over his shoulders and start handing out highfives on the way to the ring. Mr.P stands in the center of the ring clapping his hands. Meca slides in and gives Zack a huge hug. He then runs over, jumps to the top turnbuckle and throws his arms up again. A "Meca! Meca!" chant breaks through the arena. Mr.P tosses Meca Blight a microphone.

Meca Blight: LITTLE ROCK!!!

Cheers break the Meca chant

Meca Blight: Look Zack, Eski-Mania is running wild!!

Meca lifts the two ASW titles to a huge reaction.

Meca Blight: Okay OWFites, lets get this done first.. NEW, ALL SHIT, SLASH! ... OWF Tag Team Champions, ZACK PERRY!!

The fans stand up cheering and clapping as Meca hands Zack Perry his new ASW Tag Title. He takes a long look at it.

Meca Blight: Me and this Eskimo bastard, ASW Tag Champions! Finally, we got what we wanted, its about damn time too!

The fans cheer.

Meca Blight: But, again I let him get hurt... My best friend... A knife to the head. But I kept my promise, I wont let go of that turn buckle and get in there no matter what until we tag up. That was the hardest thing in my life. I'm sorry

Mr.P looks over and shakes his head, letting him know its okay, holding the folded Tag title against his side.

Meca Blight: No, I am. But I got it Zack, we did it. I finally ended that bastard's streak, I got you that title, were champions now! Togather! ..Duality, that evil dark cat, no- evil dark PUSSY felt the wrath of MECA-MADDNESS!! You hurt this man here, I'm gonna be on yo' ass like a doughnut! Got that?!

The fans cheers

Meca Blight: That wasn't just a match guys, that was fight we were lucking to live through. I saw Perry get pulled away, it hurt. I can't believe DK let him be apart of our OWFite family. But this is party time! When you see Duality, remember, THE OWF POSTER BOY ended his streak!

Meca Blight: I did it, I don't remember it all but I finally beat Seth Anderson! AS-What? AS-Who? I went out there for everyone here, and all you OWFites around the world and showed ASW doesnt come CLOSE to real OWF Caliber! Who is the "imfurier" product now Seth? Let's count? 1.. 2.. 3.. 7.. 5..

Mr.P shakes his head laughing.

Meca Blight: He had to bring in his two other CATS to take me out! There is no amount of cats to big for the Cat Smasher but those pussies had canes!

A "ALL-SHIT, ALL-SHIT!" chant finds its way out of the fans.

Meca Blight: That's right, I put you down for not just three, a five count! Oh and Elles? Didn't this skinny little eskimo take your Mexican title?

Meca points at Mr.P and the place erupts.

Meca Blight: But the ASR? None of my concern, they're no OWF Elite..

"Oooooh!" breaks through the crowd.

Meca Blight: And dare we say it? No Cold Grass? Even TOBY WILKS showed those cats!

The fans let out laughing cheer.

Meca Blight: But I'm not here for ASR, I'm here to call Greg Jackson out. Seth ruined the biggest match of my career. I would have been in the main event for the OWF WORLD TITLE! ...I want that match back. I'm calling out Greg Jackson. Greg, YOU CAN NEVER BEAT I! I, The Cat Smasher, Meca C. Blight! We had a draw, you CHEATED your win over me and wasted my biggest shot! Now come out here and show the world what they deserve, us, one and one, best man wins, once and for all!

The place erupts, OWFites break out: "Get-Your-Ass-Out! Get-Your-Ass-Out!"

Mr.P: Um, Meca, I hate to break it to you, but he's not going to come out. He's not-

Meca Blight: He better! Be, OWFites, give him a.. a FIVE count!

The OWFites start counting while Meca holds up the fingers. "1... 2... 3..."

Meca Blight: Com'on chicken!

"4... 5!" The fans follow up by "Boos"

Mr.P: Really Meca, he isnt here.

Meca Blight: Oh. I guess not then. We'll we got time for one more thing.. HIT THE MUSIC!

PA: Don't Call It A Come Back!!

Meca's "Momma Said Knock You Out" hits as he jumps up onto the top turnbuckle, the time keeper knows and right away throws him his box of doughnuts. Meca rips it open and starts biting into one. The fans get on there feet and the camera flash. Meca heads the the opposite far corner and does the same thing. Meca finally finishes the doughnuts and heads to the back, handing out highfives to the OWFites.

Perry looks down at the ASW Tag Team Title belt Meca brought him, then back up the isle as Meca highfives his way out, and salutes the OWF posterboy in a moment of reverance. Turning back towards the crowd, a drumroll starts in the background.

Mr P: I didn't come here tonight to proclaim myself something great. I've never said I was even a good wrestler. So I'll let my moment pass and celebrate this in private with my best friend, while we do something out here a little more public. I'd like to announce to you, your official 2005 MVW King of the Mountain.

The house lights die, causing the crowd to pop wildly in anticipation. The large screen above the entrance lights up in a solid white, bathing the crowd in an eerie glow. A red T cartwheels across the screen from the right, settling in the left-center of the frame. A V of the same hue drops down from above, settling into the center of the screen. In dead silence, a crimson J dissolves into the right-center of the frame. Three rapid gunshots place the letters LLC below the TVJ in black. Rapid cross-wipe to black, leaving the arena dark again. First we hear the strings, then a little bit of guitar, and finally some high hat as the intro to Jeff Buckley's "Last Goodbye" plays out over the public address system. Clips of Piter Svoboda matches rapidly flash across the big screen, with straight cuts going from one to the next. Some notable examples are of Piter walking down an entrance ramp with the MVW Lightweight strap over one shoulder and the TV title over the other, his double elimination with Cliff Hanger during the battle royal in which he won his first World title in any promotion, and his Tarzan swinging into the face of Dominator Fan oo1 during the previous Sunday's King of the Mountain match. A mellow folk-rock riff continues until about a minute into the song.

PA System: This is our last goodbye.

Geraldo: From Boston, Massachusetts, he stands at six feet tall and weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds, he is the Show-Opener, the Curtain-Jerker, two-time King of the Mountain, and Meaningless Violence Wrestling CEO, PIIIIIITER SVOBOOOOOOOODA!

Once again, the crowd gives up a big cheer for the performer of the night at Sunday's Pay-Per-View. Halogens flood the arena, blinding everybody who's not prepared as Jeff Buckley continues to sing soulfully. The entrance curtain jerks aside, and Piter Svoboda steps through wearing a black T-shirt with a red Cobra logo on it, cut-off cargo shorts that have faded to a grayish brown, a neck brace, and the typical bike chain and boots. His peroxide blonde hair is matted to his head, for the most part, sticking up in spots. He's unshaven, and his forehead appears to be stitched shut. He pauses at the top of the ramp and takes in the audience response, smiling despite himself. He walks to the ring at a slower than usual pace, slapping the hands of every Arkansas native he can reach, then climbs the ring steps for the first time in recent memory and steps between the top and middle ropes, betraying just how much punishment his body has gone through in the past week. On a whim, he climbs to the second turnbuckle of each of the four ring posts, raising his hands to a startlingly positive reaction, "M-V-Dub" chants breaking out erratically each time he goes up.

Mr P: Normally Piter, you'd be presented with this by the previous King of the Mountain... but that happens to be you. So failing that, as a sanctioned match of Meaningless Violence Wrestling, our Chief Executive Officer would have that responsability... which also happens to be you.

Perry's eyes glare hatred at Svoboda who just beams a dopey, medicated smile.

Mr P: So as the mastermind behind King of the Mountain, I suppose it comes down to me. Here you go.

Perry thrusts a professional wrestling title belt, missing it's front buckle and with King of the Mountain stenciled over in white paint letters. Piter motions for Mr. P to exit the ring. Mr. P looks confused at first, but returns to the commentary table at Svoboda's insistence. Piter holds the belt up to wild approval from the Arkansas fans, sparking another short-lived "M-V-Dub!" chant from some wrestling geeks toward the front of the arena. He cracks a grin and begins to speak.

Piter Svoboda: Thanks, guys. I get the impression this is the most MVW fans in one room in the last five years or so, and I feel honored to be the guy to make that happen. I-

A round of applause cuts him off, and he waits until just after the peak of the fanfare before continuing to speak.

Piter Svoboda: I just wanted to say that this is the proudest moment of my wrestling career. I've finally done something that no one else has, and that I KNOW no one ever will again.

The crowd applauds gamely.

Piter Svoboda: My agent, Jomatran "Jommy "The Armenian" Armenian" Armenian, wrote me a speech specifically for this occasion. Well, maybe not specifically, as such. In fact, I'm pretty sure he wrote it just in case one of his other clients ever won an Oscar. But I'm going to read it word for word, out of respect for the man who got me into this match in the first place.

He clears his throat, pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, and launches into the speech.

Piter Svoboda: Thank you! Oh! Thank you! I can hardly conjugate verbs! I feel so blessed! And this statue: it's so shiny! Oh, thank you again! I just want everyone to secretly suspect that even in my wildest hallucinations, I never would have frantically prayed that this could ever validate my mediocrity. And to the other super-amazing nominees, I want each of you to know how totally mega-pumped your crushing defeat makes me feel right now! You know when they first told me I wasn't blonde enough, I just had to take a Xanax and obsess about how freakish my experiences have been. I guess it all just makes me feel kinda numb. You know, there are so many ass-kissing talentless success stories to thank! First off though, I want to bitch slap the senile old bats of the Academy, who looked deep within their cold, black hearts before giving me this fantastic award! Also, I want to thank Gilgamesh, for being such a powerful force in my contract negotiations. And to Dad, who taught me to take life by the fifth of bourbon. And finally, to all the sycophantic talk show hosts: I couldn't have done it without you! Thank you America, and good night!

Piter stares blankly at the piece of paper, then crumples it up and tosses it over his shoulder and out of the ring.

Piter Svoboda: Well, that was... different. Oddly enough, though, it fit the situation better than anything I would've expected out of Jommy. With these pills I'm on, well, conjugating verbs is a bit of a strain. And I DO feel blessed. Like karma is finally taking a swing in my direction, and not with a fist for once. As for validating my mediocrity... well, let's just not go there. I'm sure somebody else will, soon enough, and I don't want to steal their thunder. To the other "super-amazing" wrestlers who were in this match, well, I wouldn't say I gave you a crushing defeat. As usual, I let somebody else do most of the work, in this case Starker. He even was kind enough to give me the extra height I needed to reach the belt.

Piter looks down at the buckleless belt in his non-microphone hand, biting his lip.

Piter Svoboda: I don't think anybody could complain that I'm not blonde enough, but yeah, my experiences have been freakish, and my anxiety has been something I wouldn't wish on anybody but my worst enemy. Right now, I do feel kind of numb, and I'm not sure whether to credit the pills.

He takes out and lights a cigarette with his usual legidur main, then continues after a couple drags, pausing every now and then to hit it again.

Piter Svoboda: There ARE a lot of people to thank. Mom and dad, if you're watching, thank you. I couldn't have been here without you. Amanda Davis, you gave me the motivation to win this thing. Bryan Barnes, you gave me the means. Jomatran Armenian, you got the match signed. And Zack Perry, you looked deep within your cold, black heart and you signed the match, and I'm thankful for that. You signed this contract, you and Diamond Kid, and you must've known what that could mean. But I digress. I almost forgot to thank Gilgamesh.

There's a light round of laughter from the crowd, as well as confused murmurs. Piter pitches what remains of his cigarette to ringside.

Piter Svoboda: I guess you're all wondering what I plan to do with this blank contract. Well, let's get this over with.

Svoboda takes a pen from one of his cargo pockets, then scribbles for a while on the contract and looks up, smiling.

Piter Svoboda: Well, that's taken care of. See you at Blood Bath, Zack.

Larry King: He's not going to tell us?

Mancow: Brilliant! Svoboda's got whatever he wants on that peice of paper, and his opponant doesn't even know yet!

Piter attempts to strike an intimidating pose, but with the pain medication in his system the best he can manage is relaxed passive-aggression. "Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley plays out again, and the King of the Mountain makes his way to the back and OWF credits flash on the bottom of the screen.