The old NOWA logo slowly fades onto the screen. The silent intro soon gives way to thesound of glass shattering, as the new NOWA Extreme falls from above and shatters what's left of National Oldschool Wrestling Association. With a blinding white flash, we cut to a live scene within a resteraunt. Waiters and waitresses criss cross in the dining area of the facility that is filled with people decked out in formal wear, a few of which are quite recognizable. Buddy "Mr. Hero" Lee, sits at a round table, dressed in a loud, yet fashionable suit and surrounded by a group of beauties. Buddy chats it up with his female companions, bragging about his Man of Action Title, which he proudly displays draped over his right shoulder. Billy Kash is here, too. The british millionaire is decked out to the nines, with his personal guest, Ms. Smiles, looking more stunning than usual. And there's White Lightning, sporting casual, yet apropriate, attire sitting at the bar. He is turned around in his barstool to face the ring at the back of the building. It sits close to the back wall, with two large tables sitting on either side of it. A woodgrain podium stands in the center of the ring, with a microphone attached. The apron skirt is decorated in the new colors of NOWA Extreme with chrome ringsteps leading up both sides. At the large table to the left of the ring we see NOWAX referees Conner McGraw and Gerald Jones, along with announcers Diego Gonzales and Bobby Black, all wearing different variations of the black tuxedo. On the right, we see Lawrence Gaverdean, formerly known as Larry "Dub-L" Labowski, Empire Studios top dog, Willaim Cross, and the absolute owner and chairman of NOWA Extreme, David Foster. Applause erupts as Mr. Foster stands and walks up the ringsteps. He climbs through the ropes and gets behind the podium.

Foster: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have before us a challenge. A challenge that most look at as impossible to pull off. We have taken the NOWA and cleansed it of all contracts, nullifying every championship as a result. Every man and woman in the company was given the pink slip. Then, we throw out the meaning of the acronym, NOWA. National Oldschool Wrestling Association is a permanent memory. All that exists in its place is the name NOWA Extreme. From that point, we hire back much of the ex-NOWA staff and offer every wrestler on the old roster a chance to be apart of the new NOWAX. Some come back, some don't. Some have reservations, others are ready to rock and roll. Now, the public majority, along with everybody working behind the scenes in NOWAX, knows that the challenge ahead of us one of huge undertaking. Unless we devote all of our energy into this project, NOWAX will undoubtedly fail. That will not happen on my watch."

"Now, without any further ado..."

???: "Hold up! Hold up!"

The seven foot monster, Baine, walks into the dining room, dressed in a custom made Armani made exclusively for his mammoth dimensions. It looks like he splurged a little of the 2 million bucks he and Eric Draven procurred from Sonny Tutone at American Pride. Baine adjusts his solid gold Rolex as he makes his way through the tables and to the ring. Baine walks up the ringsteps and toward the podium. Without saying a word, David Foster takes a couple steps back and puts his hands behind him. Baine peers over at him.

Baine: "That's what I thought."

Baine turns around and removes his Oakleys. He tucks the sunglasses away in his pocket and places both hands on either side of the podium. He lets out a small chuckle as he scans over the crowd.

Baine: "NOWA Extreme, huh? I look around and the most extreme thing I see in this entire room are the ultra spicy buffalo wings that this fat pig in front is forcing down his throat."

Buddy Lee leans back in his chair and starts polishing his Man of Action Title with a cloth napkin, completely ignoring the big man. A smug faced Billy Kash leans forward with his elbows on the table. Ms. Smiles starts rubbing on his shoulders to try and calm him down. White Lightning sips his drink and places it on the bar. He turns back to Baine with his arms crossed.

Baine: "You boys got the right idea. Just keep your asses in your seats and your traps shut. I'm here to inform all of you and everybody that even thinks of joining NOWAX...I will rule without mercy! If you belong to NOWA Extreme, you are my mortal enemy! I am 545 pounds of pissed and..."

???: "...and seven feet, seven inches of s@#$!"

Baine: "Who said that!?"

Baine looks around the room for the man responsible for those words. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches The Diplomat walking through the service entrance. Decked out in a red suit and matching derby, The Diplomat stands straight in front of the ring, with both hands resting atop his cane.

The Diplomat: "That would be me."

Baine: "And just who the hell do you think you are, little man?"

The Diplomat: "Moi? Why, I am the voice of the most destructive force in professional wrestling today! And I cannot stand by any longer and listen to the bile that spills from your mouth! You are nothing, Baine! My client could easily chew you up and spit you out, even after a damn big lunch!"

Baine: "You're meat!"

Baine climbs out of the ring and heads straight for The Diplomat. Diplomat's eyes get as big as cats and he takes off back through the service entrance. Baine gives chase as a camera follows. Baine bursts through the door and looks around for The Diplomat. Pots and pans hang along the middle of the kitchen above a long white counter. On the left, grills, ovens, conventional stoves and deep fryers line the wall. On the right, a couple sinks, two large stainless steel double doored refridgerators, along with a hand sink are lined up on that wall. Several cooks, dressed in white shirts and red aprons look startled at the presence of Baine. Baine goes to right and starts looking under the counters. Suddenly, one of the fridge doors swings open. Baine hops to his feet. Steel comes out of the very large fridge and nails Baine in the face with a rack of frozen ribs. Baine falls to one knee as Steel starts clubbing him hard in the back of the neck with some big forearms. The Diplomat raises up from the left side of the counter.

The Diplomat: "Beat him down, Steel! Show him who the real beast is!"

Steel gets Baine to his feet, and bounces his head off the counter a couple times. Steel turns him around and rams his head into the refrigerater. Steel reaches up and grabs a frying pan. He has a little trouble getting it off the hook, giving Baine the opening needed to slip in a knee to the crotch. Steel lets out a loud groan as Baine goes for the pan. TONG! Steel staggers back and shakes off the shot to the forehead. Baine rares back and this time lands a frying pan shot right in Steel's half-masked face. The Diplomat grabs a pot off of the stove and flings its contents at Baine. Boiling hot red sauce, probably spaghetti sauce, splatters on the back of Baine. While his presumably expensive Armani sport's coat protects his back from the searing heat, some lands on the back of his neck and head. Baine howls in pain and starts franticly wiping the sauce off of himself. Diplomat rushes over to Steel and leads him through the back door. Baine roars in anger and runs after the duo. Baine goes through the door and sees Steel and Diplomat heading toward the parking lot. Baine runs and jumps on Steel's back, effectively tackling him. Diplomat takes his cane and nails Baine in the back. Baine stands straight up and turns to Diplomat. Looks like Diplomat didn't have the strength to be effective against the big man. Diplomat drops his cane and puts his hands in the air.

Diplomat: "Okay! Okay! Okay! Look! I didn't mean it! I knew I couldn't hurt you!"

Baine remains silent and slowly moves in for the kill. The Diplomat starts to back up, but finds he's right up against a wall. Steel is up! And he's got the cane! CRACK! The wooden cane splinters over the back of Baine's head. Baine goes down hard. A limosine pulls up and stops with a screech. Diplomat runs and opens the back door. Steel, holding his face, is pulled by the arm by Diplomat and pushed into the limo. The Diplomat hops in behind him and slams the door shut. Baine gets to his feet just as the limo speeds off. Baine looks around and spies a shuttle bus. He runs up to it and pushes opens the doors. The driver starts to protest, but is literally thrown out of the shuttle onto the pavement. Baine starts it up and attempts to chase down Steel's limo.

We cut back to the dining room, where everybody has just watched the ehole thing on a 60 inch plasma screen television, mounted on the wall behind the ring. David Foster watches the closing moments and turns back to the diners, clearing his throat.

Foster: "Well then, uhmm, as I was saying before Baine arrived..."

At that time, former NOWA reporter James Masters walks into the dining room, followed by Daniel and Damien Cross. The larger Damien stays at the doorway. He stands stone-faced with his arms crossed. Daniel follows Masters as he climbs into the ring. He walks over to David Foster and stares at him. Daniel hops up on the top turnbuckle and sits there.

Masters: "Mr. Foster...myself, along with my clients Southern Cross, have been informed that their names are nowhere on the booking sheet for Chaos. Why would such an ommission happen?"

Foster: "Well, as I was getting ready to tell everyone, next Chaos will focus on one thing...the NOWA Extreme World Championship. Now, being as how your clients were signed under the NOWA-X tag team division, neither man is eligible for the World Title."

Masters: "Okay, then tell me this...is it true that Southern Cross is in fact the only tag team on the tag team roster?"

Foster: "Yes...that is true."

Masters: "Then what is the point of being in the tag team division, as the NOWA-X World Tag Team Champions, if you have nobody to compete against?"

Foster: "Mr. Masters, as you know, interest in any tag team division in wrestling today is low, at best. A contengency plan is in place if by chance the tag team roster is not filled to a reasonable level. Whatever happens in the next few weeks, I assure you and your clients that they will be competing in a month's time."

Masters: "That better be the case, Mr. Foster. If not, you will be..."

A loud crackling sound and the screams of Damien Cross cut off Masters. Damien crumbles to the ground, revealing Dr. John Mbala behind him holding a very familiar cattle prod. Daniel hops down from the top rope straight to the dining room floor and bolts after Mbala. Mbala sees him coming a mile away and ends up swinging the cattle prod, baseball style, and catching Daniel in the head. The force of impact, combined with some big time voltage, is enough to put Daniel Cross down and out. Mbala looks down at his fallen foes, then toward the ring at Masters. Masters starts looking around the room for an escape route as Mbala slides in the ring. Mbala narrowly misses Masters with a lunge as he slides out of the ring. Masters makes a beeline straight for the main exit with Mbala hot on his heels. The two fly through the doorway and disappear.

Foster: *sigh* "Okay, lets try this one more time. On December 13, NOWA Extreme will hold its first biweekly show, Chaos. It will be at that event when we crown ourselves the first ever NOWA Extreme World Champion. Eleven men will fight it out in a tournament, concluding with a triple threat final match. Each name was written on a piece of paper and placed into a hat. From there, two names at a time were drawn out of the hat, and paired up. There are six brackets, with the first bracket occupied by a single man, essentially awarding him a buy."

Buddy Lee, with a cocky smile, stands up and clears his throat.

Lee: "Mr. Foster, I graciously accept the bye. I know that the fans will be disappointed that I would only be wrestling twice, as opposed to three times, but I also know that you don't want to over work your biggest assett to the company."

David Foster looks at Buddy, puzzled.

Foster: "Uhmm...I hate to inform you Mr. Lee, but you don't get the bye."

Lee: "WHAT?!"

Foster: "You don't get a bye."

Lee: "Oh really? And just who in the hell am I facing?"

Foster shuffles through some blue index cards.

Foster: "That would be the rookie making his professional wrestling debut, Atreyu Cross."

A man stands up across the room and looks over at Buddy. Buddy stares back.

Lee: "Let me get this straight. The man that retired the NOWA United States Title has to face a nobody?"

The six foot Atreyu gets an angry look on his face and starts walking towards Buddy's table. Buddy starts walking as well, meeting the rookie halfway. The two go nose to nose, with neither saying a word. Kash stands up and walks over, pulling Atreyu back by his arm.

Kash: "Save it for Chaos."

Atreyu looks at Kash then back at Buddy. He takes a deep breath in and slowly exhales. Atreyu walks back over to his seat and sits down. Buddy lets out a snort and walks back to his ladies.

Lee: "Alright, Foster. I'll play your little games, for now."

Foster: "Mr. Lee, please. These matches were determined at random."

Lee: "But I'm a wrestling icon! And he's a bum!"

Foster: "It does not matter! One thing you and every individual in NOWA-X needs to understand right now is that everybody is on an level playing field. The exception is that only the number one contender gets to face the World Champion. But just because you may happen to be the number one contender doesn't mean that you only face the number two contender. You could end up facing anyone, at anytime."

Buddy fumes over Foster's words as he slowly takes his seat.

???: "Hey! Yo! Over here!"

Foster scans the crowd and finds Tony Monzelli, along with his mesmerizing manager, Rachel Montrell. Both are dressed in their formal wear, with Monzelli wearing a black fedora, cocked to the side.

Monzelli: "Yea...Who am I facing?"

Foster: "Excuse me?"

Monzelli: "Who am I fighting in the first round of the tournament?"

Foster: "Uhmmm....Billy Kash."

Monzelli stands up with a cocky laugh and walks up to the seated Kash. Kash stands as Monzelli approaches.

Monzelli: "Well, money-man. Looks like you get the displeasure of having your bum kicked all over the ring by yours truly."

Kash: "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told the new guy...Save it for Chaos."

Monzelli: "Maybe I don't want to save it."

Monzelli pokes Kash in the chest.

Monzelli: "Maybe I want to kick you ass right now."

Kash: "Don't ever...TOUCH ME!"

Kash shoves Monzelli back. Monzelli stumbles and lands up against White Lightning. Lightning spills his drink all over himself. Monzelli gains his footing and turns around to Lightning, who is standing, dabbing his suit with a white napkin.

Monzelli: "What? You got something to say, punk?"

Lightning looks up at Monzelli and shakes his head. He goes back to cleaning his suit. Monzelli gives Lightning a little push.

Monzelli: "Now you're too good to say anything to me?"

A rather large man grabs Monzelli's shoulder and spins him around. Oh my god! I can't believe it! It's...it's...no, wait. False alarm. There for a second, I thought Bill Goldberg had joined NOWA-X. That man is a dead ringer for Goldberg.

Lightning: "Tony Monzelli, meet my bodyguard, Shadow."

Monzelli looks up at Shadow and starts nodding his head.

Monzelli: "Fine. You get a repreave this time, Whitey. But one day, you will fall victim to the Pizon Bomb!"

Monzelli walks back to his table, as White Lightning and Shadow watch. Lighning continues cleaning up his mess as Shadow sits back down next to him.

Foster: "Now, we know two of the five first round matches. Tony Monzelli versus Billy Kash and Buddy Lee versus Atreyu Cross. Another match that has been determined, involves a man we have already seen tonight. The biggest man on the NOWAX roster, Baine, will be squaring off against the Universal Heavyweight Champion, Bill 'Raggity Saggity' Burns. Now, Mr. Burns could not be here tonight as he is in Japan, fighting in the annual Ultimate Death Match Challenge. But, just because he's thousands of miles away, doesn't mean we couldn't get a few words about his upcoming match."

The dining room lights dim and the plasma screen television fires up again. Bill Burns comes on, looking to be in pretty bad shape. A bloody gauze is warpped around his head and one around his ribs. A big black nasty bruise covers his right pec with an equally nasty welp on his left shoulder. A tall, taller than Burns, trophy stands in the background, shimmering from the gold and silver plating.

Burns: "Chaos...one night, eleven men, one championship. An extreme championship at that. And I get to start things off with Baine. Well, you know what? I just finished up an eight round death match tournament where I sent all eight of my opponents straight into traction! Barbed wire, thumbtacks, broken glass, explosives, and four car batteries...and I'm still standing! You think that it bothers me having to go three rounds? It'll be a cake walk! It'll..."

A plate flies through the air and smashes into the television. Sparks and glass fly everywhere as Foster and others close to the ring cover their eyes from the debris. Foster looks up to see Buddy Lee sitting back down in his seat.

Lee: "I heard all I wanted to hear."

The crowd goes dead silent for a few seconds, before the rumblings start. The people at ringside inspect their immediate area for glass. Foster lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

Foster: "In the fourth first round match, another individual we have already seen this evening, Steel, will be going one on one with this man, J.P. Brody."

In a descrete corner of the dining room, J.P. Brody stands up from his table for one. He walks along the back wall, then climbs up on the apron. He goes through the ropes and approaches the podium. Foster takes a step back and motions for Brody to take the podium. Brody nods his head and walks up behind it. Brody clears his throat. Suddenly, he picks up the podium and throws it out of the ring in Buddy Lee's direction! It narrowly misses four unsuspecting diners and breaks apart on the floor. Buddy jumps to his feet as Brody rushes out of the ring. Buddy turns his table over on its side, knocking a few of his lady friends to the ground. To head at each other on a collision course.

*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

Somehow, someway, the live feed was broken. Turns out that some of the drinks Buddy spilled had somehow fried the connection. When we return, we can see that everything has gotten under control. Buddy Lee and J.P. Brody had to be escorted out of the building. A few waiters clean up the mess as David Foster stands in the center of the ring with a handheld micophone.

Foster: "Okay....Hopefully, we can get through these last two announcments without any trouble. In the last first round match, a man that went undefeated in the NOWA and retired the Gladiator Championship, Dr. John Mbala, will face that man at the bar, White Lightning."

Lightning raises his drink to the crowd and takes a sip. His bodyguard, Shadow, gives him a complementery pat on the back.

Foster: "Finally, we come to the all important bye. It will go to the one man that I feel deserves it. This man deserves it, because he is the last man ever to hold the NOWA World Heavyweight Championship...The Pac."

Without any inro music or pyros, the man from Mexico City walks through the entrance, with his bodyguard Octane leading the way. With the NOWA World Heavyweight Title draped over his right choulder, Pac walks into the ring and is handed the microphone. He looks over the dining room, stopping at Kash every so often.

Pac: "I am here tonight for two things. The first..."

Pac lifts the belt from his shoulder and raises it into the air.

Pac: "...is to officially retire the National Oldschool Wrestling Association Heavyweight Championship of the World!"

Pac turns to hand the belt to Foster, but stops. Pac looks the NOWA-X chairman in the eye, then places the belt back over his shoulder. Foster looks on with his mouth wide open and Pac turns back to the crowd.

Pac: "The second is to lay down the gauntlet! I am going to pick up right where I left off in the old NOWA. I dominated everyone there, and I will dominate everyone here!"

Billy Kash can't stand it. He stands up and walks straight for the ring. Octane goes to stand in his way, but Pac waves him off. Kash climbs into the ring and walks straight up to Octane and looks him in the eye. He then turns to Pac and gets right in his face. A tense stand off begins that lasts at least a minute. Kash looks at the NOWA Title, and brushes it off Pac's shoulder. It falls to the ground and Pac stares down at it. He looks back up as Kash turns to walk off. Pac starts walking behind him...Buddy Lee! Out of nowhere, he slides into the ring, pops to his feet, and clobbers Pac in the back of the head with the Man of Action Title! Pac staggers forward and collides with Kash as he climbs out of the ring. Kash tumbles to the floor. Before Octane can react, Buddy Lee snatches the NOWA World Championship from the mat and slides out of the ring. By the time Octane climbs out of the ring, Buddy Lee is long gone. Kash gets to his feet. He slides in the ring and starts pounding away at Pac! He doesn't realize what has happened! Monzelli jumps to his feet and decides to join the fray, but Octane stops him with a big boot! White Lightning off the bar! He flies through the air and lands on Octane! Pac is up to his feet and battles it out with Billy Kash, toe to toe! Atreyu Cross is on the top rope! He jumps and lands on the outside atop Octane, Lightning, and Monzelli! This is complete chaos!