[Before the cameras cut out, we are taken to an undisclosed location.]

Voice: We destroyed them all. We dominated it. We weren’t supposed to fall.

[As the camera adjusts to the light, it closes into the unconscious face of someone very familiar is shown.]

Voice: You destroyed us. You took away what little chance at sanctity that conglomerate had. It was all you, Chris.

[Indeed, the face of the unconscious man is Chris Carson. The camera zooms out to show Carson in something of a crucified position, with steel chains holding him up. Carson’s head is trapped inside a chair, impairing his breathing only slightly.]

Voice: You like retiring those you’re completely jealous of.

[A dark figure emerges from behind the camera and reaches up to slap the face of Chris “The Creep” Carson, which forces the legend to snap out of his unconscious state and into one of sheer confused panic. The Creep sees his attacker and his eyes slowly begin to widen in terror. However, this expression only lasts for a second. Using all of his mental strength, Carson contorts his face to feign a look of unwavering resolve.]

Chris Carson: You…

[Carson doesn’t get a chance to finish. His kidnapper forces the chair completely against his throat, as the look of panic returns to Chris Carson’s face.]

Dark Figure: There we go, Chris. That seems a lot more like you truly are. Alone, afraid, utterly powerless to do anything about the situation you’re in. I guess it’s kind of funny when you look at it from my perspective… but then again, I’m not the sanest individual.

[A few more seconds of pressure force Carson back into deep unconsciousness. The dark figure chuckles slightly, allows the chair to drop out of his hands, and turns to the camera.]

Dark Figure: Stay tuned...

[With that he turns back to Chris Carson and throws a black cloth over his head, clearly marked with the number 1. Then the camera feed cuts...]

Dark Figure: You'll go back to your family; you'll never set foot back into the ring... my ring.

[With that said and done, the dark figure literally rips the syringe out of Chris Carson's arm and drops it onto the floor.]

Dark Figure: You do not fuck with people's lives like how you fucked with mine and others.

[One more kick is given to Chris Carson, while the attacker reaches up to his hood. Seconds later, the dark figure is no more... pulling away at the robe, the dark figure is none other than...]

Dark Figure: Victim number one; complete.

[..Mike Phantasy!]

Mike Phantasy: And that was just the first.

[Fade out.]

Number One Seed Contenders Match

Shane Donovan vs. Johnny Legend vs. Johnny Fireball

Lex Robinson: Welcome to Assholes & Legends, everyone! Boy, has it been a while since we last seen you guys.

Steve Hebert: It wasn't long enough, goddamnit.

Lex Robinson: You may have heard the rumors, the stories and whatever else; but we're here and Assholes & Legends is finally underway.

Steve Hebert: We're under a brand new method... meaning our owner was arrested, released due to lack of evidence and we're now dirt-poor. Nevertheless, it's still a fun-filled party! Whooo!

Lex Robinson: Shush, you weren't supposed to say all of that!

Steve Hebert: Pffft... sue me.

Lex Robinson: By the way things are going, you just might.

Steve Hebert: Don't threaten me; we have a match to start off with!

Lex Robinson: Uh... if our first competitor ever makes it out here, we will.

Steve Hebert: There he is! He's coming!

[True to Steve's claim, Johnny Legend rolls out from behind the curtain... sitting in a wheelchair. Rolling to the ring, he appears rather somber, while circling around the ringside area, stopping near the ring announcer just to grab ahold of the microphone.]

Steve Hebert: Oh man, Johnny Legend is in bad shape.

Lex Robinson: Oh, come on. I seen him only a few weeks ago at another show and he was fine.

Steve Hebert: Well, maybe an injury has flared up! You don't have to sound so speculative, Lex. Sheesh; he's an injured man.

Lex Robinson: Yeah, right.

Steve Hebert: He is! Look, he's even getting assisted into the ring by several ringcrew workers!

[Still with a microphone in his hand, Johnny Legend is brought into the ring -- thanks to some help from several beefed-up crewmembers. Wheeling himself into the center of the ring, Johnny Legend looks around at the crowd, with a tear in his eye. Taking a moment to collect himself, he finally holds the microphone up to his lips and starts to talk.]

Steve Hebert: Shhhh...

Lex Robinson: Uh huh.

Johnny Legend: It is with great sadness, that I have to inform everyone of the death of one of my opponents... Shane Donovan. Yes, you all knew Shane and you all loved him... but, well... he's dead, so we'll get over it!

Lex Robinson: Huh...? What the...?

Steve Hebert: Oh snap! Poor old Shane.

Lex Robinson: That's... is he really?!

Steve Hebert: I think so...

Lex Robinson: But he was so heartless.

Steve Hebert: Pffft... it's only Shane Donovan. Let's just hope the rats eat him alive.

Johnny Legend: And now onto more important news... about me!

Lex Robinson: Ugh...

Steve Hebert: I agree with Mister Legend.

Johnny Legend: It is really with extreme sadness that I have to announce that I cannot compete tonight. Why? Blame that stupid, ugly vampire that you all cheer for! Yes, I'm talking about Casanova! Ever since he threw me off that balcony, my back -- my spine -- has never been the same! Because of him, I can't wrestle... hell, I can't even walk anymore!

Lex Robinson: Uhm...

Steve Hebert: God, this is so depressing. Johnny's career and life has been ruined.

Lex Robinson: Steve, it was only a few weeks ago that I saw him wrestle.

Steve Hebert: Huh? Oh... it's a miracle! Lord Jesus, it's a miracle!

[The fans boo Johnny Legend, who has disgusted the crowds.]

Johnny Legend: Yes, yes; I know you're all saddened that I can't wrestle tonight... and frankly, I don't blame you. I'd cry my eyes out, too, if I couldn't watch my handsome self walk out as the number-one seed for Lust. Hell, I'm trying to hold back the tears as I speak!

Lex Robinson: [mumbling to himself] God, this guy is so self-absorbed.

Steve Hebert: You're just jealous. I know it.

Steve Hebert: Who the hell is this? And how dare he interrupt Johnny's speech?!

Lex Robinson: That's a new signee, Steve. His name is Johnny Fireball.

Steve Hebert: Sounds pretty flaming, if you ask me. Do you catch my drift?

Lex Robinson: Unfortunately, I do.

Steve Hebert: Phew.

[Coming face-to-face with Johnny Legend, Johnny Fireball stares at his opponent who claims to be injured. Angered at the interruption, Johnny Legend clears his throat, making sure to be loud and clear.]

Steve Hebert: He just cleared his throat. You just know that he means serious business, now.

Johnny Legend: Excuse me, I'm busy here!

[Saying nothing, Johnny Fireball just shrugs and motions for Legend to continue.]

Johnny Legend: Besides, you know I can't compete here tonight! What kind of moron are you?!

[Laughing at Legend's snide remark, Johnny Fireball just steps back, turning his back on his wheelchair-bound opponent. However, something horrible is soon to befall him...]

Lex Robinson: Johnny Legend is up!

Steve Hebert: Holy Christ! It's another miracle! Praise the Lo'd!

Lex Robinson: Hell no! Charging in, he attacks Johnny Fireball from behind, striking him with that microphone across the back of his head! He wasn't injured at all!

Steve Hebert: Uh, yes he was! Why else would he be in a wheelchair, you asshole? It's not like he's Shane Donovan... who is friggin' dead!

Lex Robinson: Guh... Dropping to the ground, Johnny Fireball lands on his hands and knees, enabling Johnny Legend to pounce on him, kicking and stomping the life out of him; all while the wheelchair remains in the center of the ring.

Steve Hebert: Go Johnny!

Lex Robinson: Which "Johnny"?

Steve Hebert: The one that's winning.

Lex Robinson: Makes sense.

[After plucking Johnny Fireball off the apron, Johnny Legend traps him in the corner and starts chopping away at his chest; soaking up the chorus of boos that are sent his way. Laughing, Johnny Legend gives Johnny Fireball a stiff kick to the gut and forearms him up against the ropes. Whipping his opponent across the ring, Johnny Legend instantly ducks down and goes for a backdrop, sending Johnny Fireball high into the air.]

Steve Hebert: Look at that! Did you see that lovely backdrop, Lex? It's amazing for someone who has a broken back!

Lex Robinson: Christ, shut up.

Steve Hebert: He's even lifting Mister Fireball up, kicking him in the gut some more and chopping at his chest again. A snap suplex later, and Johnny Fireball is laid out on his back, staring up at the lights.

Lex Robinson: All thanks to a ridiculous blindsided attack from Johnny Legend... which he continues to uphold, as he uses his right foot to football kick into Fireball's backside. Lifting Johnny Fireball up, Johnny Legend hooks him up for another suplex, but it gets blocked...

Steve Hebert: Oh, no...

Lex Robinson: Inside cradle by Johnny Fireball...!

Steve Hebert: Johnny kicks out! Johnny Legend, that is.

Lex Robinson: Luckily, Johnny Fireball is up to his feet before Johnny Legend and he is charging at his opponent. He ducks beneath a clothesline, leaps onto the middle rope and springboards back, landing on Johnny Legend's shoulders. Swinging his body around, he is able to hurricanrana Legend down to the mat!

Steve Hebert: Goddamnit! But Johnny Legend is quickly back up, too! This time, he halts an attack from Johnny Fireball, who was hoping to follow up on his previous move. Striking him with a knee to the gut, Johnny Legend bends him over, kicks him in the jaw and gutbusters him, hoping to knock the air out of his lungs.

Lex Robinson: I think he did. But even so, he isn't going for the cover, which is a dumb move on his part. He could have Johnny Fireball right here.

Steve Hebert: Naaahhhh... he's going for a ride on his wheelchair, instead.

Lex Robinson: ...Right you are. What a friggin' showoff!

[Mocking Johnny Fireball, Johnny Legend sits on the wheelchair he brought to the ring and does some wheelies on it. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize the impending disaster happening behind him.]

Lex Robinson: Wait...! Johnny Fireball is up! Legend doesn't see this!

[Still goofing off, Johnny Legend wheels around, only to roll straight into a flying dropkick from Johnny Fireball, who shows no mercy in his kick. Kipping-up to his feet, Johnny Fireball patiently awaits for Johnny Legend to rise...]

Lex Robinson: Dazed and not quite sure what just happened, Johnny Legend struggles to his feet...

Steve Hebert: Oh God... Oh God... Oh God no. That man has a bad back!

Lex Robinson: Hah! When the time is right, Johnny Fireball kicks Johnny Legend in the gut, front facelocks him and quickly snap-DDTs him onto the toppled-over wheelchair!

Steve Hebert: Foreign object!

Lex Robinson: Johnny Legend brought it in there, so he'll suffer the consequences!

Steve Hebert: Ridiculous! Just plain ridiculous!

[Rolling Legend onto his back, Johnny Fireball makes the count...]

Lex Robinson: The referee slaps his hand off the mat once...

Lex Robinson: ...twice...

Lex Robinson: Three times!

Steve Hebert: No way!

Lex Robinson: Yes way! We have our first entrant to the number-one seed match!

Steve Hebert: This is awful. Horrible, even! This match shouldn't have even occured! One of our original competitors died, for crying out loud!

Lex Robinson: And he'll be greatly remember. But for now, the show must go on... and in honor of Shane Donovan.

Steve Hebert: Gaaayyyyy.

[Having his hand raised, Johnny Fireball slowly slides out of the ring, while Johnny Legend throws a fit on the inside; standing up, lifting up his wheelchair and slams it back down, upset about what has occured.]

Winner: Johnny Fireball

Ace Rodgers: Hey, Danny Boy! It's been a long time since I've seen you in Sin.

Danny Boy Vegas: Not now, Ace, I—

Ace Rodgers: How're things? Is your return going to be a long-lasting thing?

Danny Boy Vegas: I have a match to prepare for, Ace. If you'll excuse me, I—

Ace Rodgers: Your sights are most likely set straight on your opponent for tonight, Cyren. Can I get any th—GLURK!

[Danny grips Ace by the throat, hoisting him into the air. Danny's face is twisted in a scowl as he regards the reporter.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Thoughts? Yeah, I've got thoughts. I'm going into Lust at number one, you understand? I'm going to tear through Cyren and any other opponents they've got stacked up against me. Is that what you want to hear?

[Ace manages to nod as he kicks his legs, struggling to get free.]

Danny Boy Vegas: A lot of no-talent punks have been showing their faces around here lately and I don't like it. I came back to capture what is mine, what has always been mine; the Sin Wrestling World Heavyweight title. If Cyren—or if Donovan, Legend, Reno, or the others—thinks they're going to stop me, I welcome them to try.

[Danny cracks a grin and drops Ace to the ground. Ace sputters, trying to catch his breath.]

Danny Boy Vegas: But me, I roll high numbers. They're going to find themselves rolling Snake Eyes.

[Danny stalks off, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. Anna follows, casting an unsavory look at Ace as she passes him. Ace rolls over onto his side, gasping.]

Number One Seed Contenders Match

Cyren vs. Danny Boy Vegas

Lex Robinson: And for our next number-one seed match, we have Cyren taking on the returning Danny Boy Vegas!

Steve Hebert: Whoa, wait... Cyren?! Wasn't he in those Mortal Kombat games?!

Lex Robinson: Uhh...

Steve Hebert: I'm guessing that's a no...?

Lex Robinson: Yes, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Wait, so he was?!

Lex Robinson: ...No, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Oh.

[Next, "Bull" by Weedeater hits the speaker system, thus bringing out Danny Boy Vegas from behind the curtain, standing in front of the crowd, receiving a mixed ovation.]

Lex Robinson: Here he is!

Steve Hebert: It's D-B-V, Danny Boy Vegas! We haven't seen him in... what? A long time ago, that's what!

Lex Robinson: It's been several months, that's for sure.

Steve Hebert: Hell, it's been closer to a year, I'd say.

Lex Robinson: Perhaps. Either way, Danny Boy is slowly trudging towards the ringside area, where he climbs up onto the side of the apron, looking across the ring at Cyren, his opponent.

Steve Hebert: Ah, man; Cyrax is not going to overcome D-B-V's return.

Lex Robinson: Errr... Cyren.

Steve Hebert: Oh, whatever. It's all the same to me.

[Stepping in over the top rope, Danny Boy Vegas shows his true ring presence, as Cyren backs off, in awe of his opponent. Standing in the center of the ring, Danny Boy Vegas looks over his right shoulder, keeping a keen eye on Cyren, who just like Danny, does not move out of his position; keeping his stance near one of the ring posts. However, before Danny Boy can do anything, Cyren lunges from the corner, attacking DBV from behind, striking him with a forearm to the base of his neck.]

Lex Robinson: A furious attack from Cyren knocks Danny Boy out of balance and sends him tumbling up against the ropes!

Steve Hebert: What a stupid, stupid move, stupid.

Lex Robinson: Agreed. This'll just piss the heck out of Danny Boy. You know what happens when Danny Boy gets pissed, don't you?

Steve Hebert: People die.

Lex Robinson: Uhm... I guess so! Nevertheless, Cyren seems to be doing swell, thus far; as he is just pounding on Danny Boy, grinding him up against the ropes. In here, he delivers some kneelifts to Danny's gut, hoping to knock the wind out of him. Not a bad plan, if I do say so.

Steve Hebert: Bah! Danny Boy's a fighter! He'll come back!

Lex Robinson: Even without Anna by his side tonight?

Steve Hebert: You heard me the first time!

Lex Robinson: I did... and things still have not changed; Danny Boy is now backed into the corner, where he is now met with some climb-and-punch tactics from Cyren. He's going to hit his tenth fist in-a-row...

Steve Hebert: The hell he's not! With a great thrust forward, Danny Boy knocks Cyren off the second rope, sending him tumbling to the ground! Rolling back up, Cyren tries to relive his prior damage onto Danny, but to no such luck. Instead, he walks right into a big boot to the chest from my man, Danny Boy Vegas.

Lex Robinson: The dreaded boot-to-the-chest... ah, what a killer.

[Like a feather falling faintly from the sky, Cyren splatters onto his back, gasping for oxygen. Like a bat out of hell, Danny Boy Vegas grasps Cyren by the back of his head and yanks him up to his feet.]

Lex Robinson: Holding a handful of Cyren's ears -- yes, his ears -- Danny Boy Vegas lifts his opponent up onto his feet and drops him back down with a body slam. Bouncing off the ropes, he returns with an elbowdrop... another elbowdrop... and another elbowdrop!

Steve Hebert: He's just pounding away on him with elbowdrops. That's good enough for me, eh. Picking Cyren up, not only does Danny Boy position him into a standing headscissors, but he hoists him upside-down into the air and spikes him on his head with an awesome piledriver! Ouchies!

Lex Robinson: Throttling Cyren's throat, Danny Boy is given a 5-count by the referee, who demands him to stop. At the count of four, Danny Boy Vegas reluctantly releases his grasp around Cyren's throat, slaps his hands together and calls for the end. Once more, he lifts his opponent up, forearms him into the ropes and whips him across the ring. Unfortunately for Cyren, when he returns, he runs directly into a spinning spinebuster from Danny Boy!

Steve Hebert: Oh yeah! Broken-back mountain is what that was!

Lex Robinson: Shhh... he's going for a cover...

Steve Hebert: Indeed he is!

[Seconds before the referee can slap his hand onto the mat for the third time, Danny Boy Vegas breaks the count by pulling Cyren up his head, continuing the match.]

Lex Robinson: What the hell?

Steve Hebert: Pffft.. I mean, why not? Let Danny Boy have some more fun with this tool that tried to attack him before the match officially got underway.

Lex Robinson: Stiffing Cyren with some forearms that drive his head into the mat, Danny Boy stands to his feet, tiptoes around the ring and patiently awaits for Cyren to rise.

Steve Hebert: If you think he's actually going to stand, then you're out of your goddamn mind.

Lex Robinson: You may be right. Instead of waiting for Cyren to get up, Danny Boy Vegas applies a front facelock onto Cyren, swings around so that they are back-to-back and... you know what this is...!

Steve Hebert: You better believe it! Snakes Eyes! Snake Eyes! The good ol' double ones, Lex!

Lex Robinson: Jamming Cyren down to the canvas with a DDT, Danny Boy Vegas easily slides his body over Cyren, thus making another cover. Here's the referee's count...

Lex Robinson: And it's finished! What a return for Danny Boy Vegas!

Steve Hebert: Not only that, but he advances to the match to determine the number-one seed! Can you imagine Danny Boy Vegas walking out as the very first Lust Champion?!

Lex Robinson: Yes and no. February's a long time away, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Well, fuck you, too.

[Rising to his feet, Danny Boy continues to get a mixed reaction from the fans -- cheers from the people who are glad to see him back; jeers from those who remember his past antics. Hopping out of the ring, he calmly walks to the back, showing no fatigue from his previous match.]

Winner: Danny Boy Vegas

Doug: No worries, Johnny. With your advancement earlier, you'll have your later match in the bag. I swear on it...

Johnny Fireball: I don't know...

Alex: Yeah, what Doug said. It'll be a piece of cake. I mean, just look at the facts...

Johnny Fireball: I suppose so... but there's still something that nags at me...

Alex: Pffft. No way. This is clearly your chance.

Johnny Fireball: Yeah, well; I guess we'll see, won't we?

Josh: Damn right, Johnny. We know you'll do it.

[In the meantime, Johnny returns to his state of thought.]

Johnny Fireball: Maybe so; maybe so...

[With an idea in his head, Johnny steps forward, knowing what to do.]

Number One Seed Contenders Match

Damien Star vs. Pierce Ward vs. Gabriel Reno

Lex Robinson: Here comes Pierce Ward, who signed up to try and take the number-one seed spot.

Steve Hebert: I don't even know who this guy is. Next!

[The arena goes black as the Sin-screen fades to an image of a man's face backstage, he hops up and down as the ring announcer says his name, and he bolts through the curtains with arms out, and spins around on the ramp. He points at signs representing him in the crowd, as pyrotechnics go off in the ring, and he runs down and slides in, going turnbuckle to turnbuckle with his arms out as if to say 'What's next?'.]

Lex Robinson: Well, you should know who this guy is: he's a former Platinum Champion!

Steve Hebert: ...Huh? Who's a what now?

Lex Robinson: Nevermind.

[Dream Theater's "As I Am" starts to play as we wait for Damien Star to enter the arena. The words officially start to play as Star enters the arena, heading straight to the ring, like a man on a mission. He rolls inside and prepares for the match to start.]

Steve Hebert: Oh, holy fuck -- who or what is that?!

Lex Robinson: That would be "Damien Star".

Steve Hebert: He looks an awful lot like "Tony Star", perennial SW-loser/Nazi, to me!

Lex Robinson: Probably because it is. He's changed his name to Damien.

Steve Hebert: Oooh... how EVIL! I hope this guy has been put on some Prozac or Lithium or something. Honestly, he needs it.

Lex Robinson: He's on something, I'm sure.

[The three men stand in opposite corners of the ring; almost ready to start their match, looking poised to begin things. The first sign of movement is from Damien Star, who appears reluctant to be the first to make a move. Nevertheless, he strides into the center of the ring, standing firm and tall, despite his odd appearance.]

Lex Robinson: Tony... err... Damien Star wants to start things, I guess.

Steve Hebert: Or maybe he just has a tick.

[The spotlights in the area suddenly turn towards the entrance, where a masked man is shown standing at the top of the stage.]

Steve Hebert: Who the hell is this? Doesn't he realize we have a quality match to have here.

Lex Robinson: ...

Steve Hebert: Well? I need answers, Lex.

Lex Robinson: I do, too. I have no idea who this is... whoever it is, they're now headed towards the ringside area.

Steve Hebert: Everyone inside of the ring is puzzled, too. Hell, I don't know what else to say.

Lex Robinson: Maybe that's for the better.

[Seconds later, the masked man is near the ring, picking up a steel chair from the front row. Upon seeing this, everyone inside of the ring braces themselves.]

Lex Robinson: Oh my...

Steve Hebert: Well Jesus; here we go. We have some guy ready to kill everyone in the ring.

Lex Robinson: It's three-on-one, though...

Steve Hebert: Don't make me send you off to the Lost island where you can get eaten by the smoke monster.

Lex Robinson: Oh nos.

Steve Hebert: The chair and the masked man slide into the ring!

Lex Robinson: Chairshot to Gabriel Reno's gut, followed up by an awesome whack to his back! He rolls out of the ring, holding his spine! Up next, Pierce Ward makes an attack, but it gets side-stepped by the masked-man! Pow! Chairshot to the back of Pierce Ward's head.. and another... and another... and another... and another...

Steve Hebert: And another!

Lex Robinson: Stop stealing my words. And another!

Steve Hebert: Jesus, he's going to have brain damage.

[With a final blood-soaked shot, the masked man bashes the chair against Pierce Ward's skull, only to stop a minute later and take a quick glance at Damien Star, who can do nothing but step away and exit the ring.]

Steve Hebert: Yep. Well, Tony doesn't want any of it.

Lex Robinson: Damien; not Tony.

Steve Hebert: Whatever. He's still nuts.

Lex Robinson: Not as nuts as this chair-wielding maniac.

Steve Hebert: Well, yeah; but still.

Lex Robinson: Speaking of which, this man has finally dropped the chair and is calmly walking to the back like nothing has happened.

Steve Hebert: This is some fucked-up shit.

Lex Robinson: You can say that again.

Steve Hebert: Yes; so, uh... what about our match? Who's advancing to the upcoming match?

Lex Robinson: That's... uh... that's a good question. I guess never of them are.

Steve Hebert: Sounds good to me!

[The next image is that of several referees rushing to the ring, hoping to pry a bloody Pierce Ward off the canvas.]

Winner: n/a

Ace Rodgers: Cock, in a matter of minutes, in what is your very first Pay Per View appearance, you have to go up against Travis Miller to end this very heated rivalry between you two that has been going on for months, now. Also, we will crown the first-ever official Penis Champion!

[Ace points to the title that is wrapped around Cock's waist.]

Ace Rodgers: This is a tremendous opportunity to officially win some Sin Wrestling gold... are you up to the challenge?

COCK: I'm always up to the challenge, Ace! Cock is always ready for a fight! And Cock is ALWAYS ready for some Sin Wrestling GOLD!!!

Ace Rodgers: Wasn't it you, on the very last edition of Impulse, that Travis Miller had tricked into reading lesbian magazines.. not to mention about a week ago...

COCK: Yes!!!!!! Travis is being a bitch and an asshole. All I wanted was a companion out of the guy when I first walked up to him, not just some partner. Tonight, I am the LEADER of team... TEAM STD!! "T" -- being for Tito, and the "D" and the "S" for Dane Slice... with COCK as the leader. It is COCK that feeds STD with all the tools needed to produce and expand. These two guys are counting on me, and damnit, I can't let these girls down! Slice... Tito... tonight....my friends....we will all win some GOLD!!!!

Ace Rodgers: But do you think they even trust you?!

COCK: Of course they do! I'm the most trustworthy man in Sin Wrestling!! Ask Travis Miller!! He trusted me when we first met and look what happened!!

Ace Rodgers: Cock...

COCK: SHUT UP!!! I'll make this short and sweet... just like Travis Miller's penis. My team, -- Team STD -- is going to win a shitload of gold tonight... from some Jesus Freak who went haywire and got himself FIRED from another company!! And if I have to do it by myself....I WILL!!! So help me God, I will stick my [beep] right in every one of his tight little [beep]!!!!!

Ace Rodgers: My God! There's children listening... sponsors watching... you can't say that! Do you want Corey Page to officially go broke?! Do you want me to go back to jail?! I was molested by a guy named Beef! I don't want to go back to jail, COCK!

COCK: Well, I just said it! I want GOLD!!! Tito wants GOLD!!!! Dane wants GOLD!!! So, it's GOLD that binds us.... gold is this girl's best friend! And when you stick Tito, Dane Slice and Cock against Thriller Miller... the answer is simple... A SEXUAL BANANZA!!!!!!!!! TO THE RING!!!!!!!!

[Tito puts the red cape back on COCK and they march towards the ring.]

Ace Rodgers: This guy is absolutely bonkers. In other news, my asshole has a rash and it hurts.

[The camera fades out, showing Ace scratching his bum.]

"Penis Title" Match

Travis Miller vs. COCK

Steve Hebert: Cock is so dreamy. You love the Cock, don't you, Lex?

Lex Robinson: I can safely say that I don't love the Cock; nor do I even like it... err... him. He's just a plain weirdo.

Steve Hebert: That's what you'd say about Zimdela Brudon, too; and look what he accomplished! He's even referee tonight's World Title match! What do you have to say about that?

Lex Robinson: Good for him; but what he takes part in is none of my business; nor is it any of my concern.

Steve Hebert: ...Oh. Well then; okay!

Lex Robinson: "The Icon Killer" is here!

Steve Hebert: Pffft. What "icons" has he killed, anyhow?

Lex Robinson: Uhh...

[At the halfway point of his entrance, Jay-Z's "Dirt off Your Shoulder" kicks in, prompting Travis Miller to stop in his tracks, look at his opponent, while smugly wiping the "dirt" off his shoulder. Letting loose a scream, he slaps the hands of a few fans, poses for the camera and charges towards the ringside area. He then rolls under the ropes, gets to his feet, only to be met with a double-leg takedown from Cock.]

Steve Hebert: Cock is wasting no time here! He quickly UNLOADS all over Travis Miller!

Lex Robinson: Please; no euphemisms.

Steve Hebert: Fine, fine; I won't JERK your chain.

Lex Robinson: [audible sigh].

Steve Hebert: Cheer up, Steve; Cock is POUNDING Travis Miller with lefts and rights. His cabana boys should be proud of that.

Lex Robinson: Would you ever consider becoming a cabana boy, Steve?

Steve Hebert: Good heavens no! Besides, look at me; I'm too fat. I can't show off my man-boobs.

Lex Robinson: I'm sure it wouldn't matter to Cock.

Steve Hebert: I'm a man of dignity, Lex.

Lex Robinson: ....Ahahahaha. Anyhow, back to the action; which sees Cock sit Travis Miller in the corner, only for him to place his white ass on Miller's face.

Steve Hebert: Think there's any leftover, dried-up semen in that asshole?

Lex Robinson: For Miller's sake, I'd hope not because Miller is getting a face full of Cock's ass.

Steve Hebert: And that's quite possibly the oddest sentence you have ever muttered.

Lex Robinson: Yeah, don't remind me.

[Continuing to grind his asshole up against Travis Miller's face, Cock finally releases the hold, step forward and steps toward the opposite corner. In here, he wiggles his own cock at Miller and then darts forward, spinning around at the last second, wishing to slam his ass back into Miller's face.]

Lex Robinson: Before Cock can grind his bum against Miller's face for the second time in a row, Travis is able to put his boot up, thus kicking Cock in the ass.

Steve Hebert: Cock's going to have hemmorhoids after that one.

Lex Robinson: Using the top rope to help himself up to his feet, Travis Miller bursts forward, leaps into the air and grabs ahold of Cock's head. On his way down, he drives Cock face-first into the canvas with a running bulldog!

Steve Hebert: Oh shit. My poor Cock.

Lex Robinson: Listening to the fans' positive response, Travis Miller instantly leaps back up to his feet and commences putting the boots to his opponent.

Steve Hebert: The Cock is being stomped!

Lex Robinson: Pulling Cock up to his feet, Travis Miller strikes him with a series of punches and kicks that daze the big, bad penis. After knocking him into the ropes with some closed-fists, Travis goes to whip him out... only to have the Irish-whip reversed! Miller is sent bouncing off the ropes, returning to see Cock hunched over, ready to backdrop him. Thinking quickly, Travis lifts knee into Cock's jaw, watches Cock snap back and bounces off the ropes again. This time, Travis returns with a leaping clothesline that knocks Cock off his feet, forcing him to roll from the ring and to recouperate with his cabana boys on the floor.

Steve Hebert: Ohhh Jesus, this is not good for Cock. He needs to PULL something out here. Preferably something out from inside of his pants.

Lex Robinson: God, will you stop it, already?

Steve Hebert: Never!

[Walking towards the ropes, Travis views the meeting going on outside the ring, latches onto the top rope and pulls back. With a full burst of momentum, he leaps over the top rope with a slingshot pescado, taking out Cock and his alumni.]

Lex Robinson: Miller dives from the ring to the floor, out onto Cock and his fellow homos.

Steve Hebert: Homies, Lex; homies.

[Out here, Miller cracks Cock's head off the floor, picks him up, bashes his skull off the ring railing and the steps and rolls him back into the ring.]

Lex Robinson: With great effort, Miller rolls Cock back into the ring. Meanwhile, Travis climbs up onto the side of the apron and then ascends to the top turnbuckle, waiting for Cock to rise.

Steve Hebert: Oh, Cock is rising...

Lex Robinson: Shut up. When the time is right, Miller leaps off with a crossbody block... only to have Cock catch him!

Steve Hebert: Whoa! What great strength from Cock! He must have been working out.

Lex Robinson: Holding Miller in his arms, Cock turns him upside-down and proceeds to drive his head into the mat with a Tombstone Piledriver! Wow!

Steve Hebert: And there's the face-humping! This probably isn't the first time Travis Miller had someone's genitals rub against his bald head.

Lex Robinson: This is sick! This is disgusting!

Steve Hebert: This is mildly arousing!

Lex Robinson: Awful. Moving on from the face-humping, though; Cock stands to his feet and walks into the corner, where he begins to climb the turnbuckles. Ever-so-slowly, he makes his way to the top turnbuckle and points at Miller, who is still laying flat on the canvas.

Steve Hebert: Miller is going to be pancaked into the canvas, methinks.

[Thrusting himself off the top turnbuckle, Cock somersaults through the air, hoping to hit a somersault senton bomb onto Travis, but to no avail; Miller moves out of the way at the appropriate time.]

Lex Robinson: Blammo! Holy crap, I'm surprised the ring didn't cave in! What a fall!

Steve Hebert: What's even worse is that Travis Miller is capitalizing on Cock's mistake... by covering him!

Lex Robinson: Travis' left arm is slung over Cock's chest...

Steve Hebert: Cock gets his shoulder up! Thank fucking God.

Lex Robinson: Both men, who appear slightly out of breath, rise to their knees, with Travis taking advantage by striking Cock with some fists. Slowly, Travis gets to his knee and starts driving his knees into the side of Cock's head, hoping to daze him...

Steve Hebert: Or put him into a coma or something. Sheesh.

Lex Robinson: Allowing Cock to stand halfway up to his feet, Miller bounces off the ropes and returns with a swinging neckbreaker, dropping Cock onto the back of his head! He goes for another cover...

Lex Robinson: But Cock claws at Travis' eyes, giving him the chance to escape from the cover.

Steve Hebert: Good! When in doubt, go for the eyes... or the testicles... or both!

Lex Robinson: Blinded, Travis tries to regain his vision, while Cock slowly rolls over onto his side, trying to make his way up to his feet. Crawling towards the ropes, Cock reaches out for the middle rope, wanting to lift himself up.

Steve Hebert: Wait...

Lex Robinson: Cock reaches--... what, Steve?

Steve Hebert: Who is that?

Lex Robinson: Hmm?

Steve Hebert: At the entrance... look.

Lex Robinson: Oh... my... God...

[At the entrance stands a man in a well-pressed suit, holding a novelty check; with a scantily clad female assistant at his side. Slowly, they inch their way to the ring, with the man grabbing a chair, setting it up on the outside, while passing the check off to his assistance and taking a seat.]

Lex Robinson: I know him! That's Deuce Diamond!

Steve Hebert: Who the hell is "Deuce Diamond"?!

Lex Robinson: Deuce Diamond is a former TWW performer and champion!

Steve Hebert: Oh, great.

Lex Robinson: Why the hell is he out here, though? And with that oversized check...?

Steve Hebert: That's what I'm trying to figure out. Plus, he's certainly giving that "Penis Title" some crooked looks. Perhaps Deuce isn't a fan of the "Penis Title".

Lex Robinson: Who knows.

Steve Hebert: Considering he has that hot broad at his side, I would think not.

Lex Robinson: When both men get to their feet, they look at Deuce Diamond, who is still sitting calmly on the chair. Deciding to go back to work, Miller and Cock lock back-up with each other; with Cock sneaking in a lowblow on Travis.

Steve Hebert: Hooray!

Lex Robinson: Applying a headlock, Cock grinds his arms around Miller's head and charges into the corner, blasting the top of Travis' head into the turnbuckle.

Steve Hebert: Damn, that was nice and was something different.

[Falling backwards, Miller holds the top of his head, enabling Cock to climb to the second turnbuckle, measuring his opponent up. Yelling out in defiance, Cock leaps off the second turnbuckle with a sit-down splash, landing squarely onto Travis Miller's chest, most likely caving it in.]

Steve Hebert: Holy tacos!

Lex Robinson: Travis Miller has become one with the canvas; that's all that I can say.

Steve Hebert: There's not much Deuce Diamond can say, either. Look at him; he's flabbergasted, as well.

Lex Robinson: Slithering over Travis' body, Cock makes the cover. This has to be it; seriously...

Steve Hebert: There's the one...

Steve Hebert: And two... and...

Lex Robinson: Travis left foot reaches out and falls on the bottom rope!

Steve Hebert: So close! So f'n close!

Lex Robinson: Cock is peeved, as well. Hoisting Travis up to a kneeling position, he chops him across the back and scoops him into the air; perhaps looking for another Tombstone Piledriver.

[Unfortunately for Cock, Travis' senses begin to return, allowing him to kick, wiggle and squirm his way out of Cock's clutches; landing on his feet behind Cock. Shoving his enemy forward, Travis watches as Cock slams chest-first off the turnbuckle pads and stumbles back towards him.]

Lex Robinson: Travis lifts Cock up onto his shoulders! Holy shit! I can't believe Travis actually lifted him up!

Steve Hebert: Cock hasn't been this far erected since fucking those midgets.

Lex Robinson: Frankie Frank and Captain Doody of SW-fame?

Steve Hebert: Yes.

Lex Robinson: Well, shit! Damn! Public Massacre by Miller onto Cock! That's his new move! Miller has even perfected that in Mecca Wrestling!

Steve Hebert: Don't advertise, you stupid son of a bitch. Corey Page oughta fire your ass.

Lex Robinson: Shut the hell up. Miller, who was squished into the canvas not too long ago, hits his move and is now covering Cock...

Lex Robinson: It's over! Miller does it! We have the first "Penis Champion"!

Steve Hebert: But... but... but... that's supposed to be Cock's title!

Lex Robinson: Travis has it, now.

Steve Hebert: ...Well, his bald head does make him look like a giant cock.

[Before Miller is able to celebrate with the Penis Title, the man seated by the title, Deuce Diamond, takes it in his right hand, bringing it, along with the large novelty check and a microphone. He grins to himself, setting everything in the corner before applauding. Miller looks a little confused at the man's arrival, but still accepts a handshake from him before the man introduces himself.]

Lex Robinson: Now what?

Steve Hebert: Quiet.

Deuce Diamond: Good match there, Miller. Good match. Let me introduce myself; my name is Deuce Diamond, and I speak as a major financial contributor to SIN Wrestling. Always have been a big fan of the show, since I used to wrestle a little bit back in my day. I've been looking at the lineup, however, and I'm afraid I'm here to make one major announcement concerning the...

[Deuce makes a face as he thinks of it, a sneer over at Cock, who is still laying on his back.]

Deuce Diamond: ...Penis Title. You see, the two of you thought you were fighting for it, but you're not. See, we contributors can take the cursing, the bloodfests, and even the occassional joke about feces, but we draw the line at giving the winner of a match a golden penis. Wrestling deserves a little more honor than that.

Steve Hebert: He's right, you know.

Lex Robinson: ...Huh? But golden penises is what Sin Wrestling is built on!

[Miller looks a little ticked off at the idea that he is apparently not winning a title, but not as much as Cock, who looks livid that the title that matches his personality so well is being scrapped. Deuce hands the Penis Title to his assistant, who carefully holds it as if disposing of a diaper.]

Travis Miller: Now wait a minute! I deserved to earn that! I beat him fair and square, fucker!

Deuce Diamond: Hold on, hold on. I'm not saying that your effort is to be wasted. I am introducing a brand new concept to Sin Wrestling, all in the form of this...

[Deuce undoes his suit coat to show the new title around his waist, a golden belt layered with cut diamonds, all centered around a black and red trump diamond overlaid over each other.]

Steve Hebert: Whoa. That's almost as pretty as the young lady around Deuce Diamond.

Deuce Diamond: Yes, THIS is the Diamond Title. Wrestling has always been a sport of kings, and it deserves a title that associates itself with the high life of Las Vegas. Whoever owns this title represents perfection, dignity, and total dominance in the ring. And if that doesn't open your eyes, then this should: you see, whoever makes the 1-2-3 in the ring during a Diamond Title match gets himself a cool $50,000! Just like that!

Steve Hebert: Christ, I can do that! I need the money.

Lex Robinson: Shut your cheap ass up.

Steve Hebert: Fiiiiine.

[Deuce snaps his fingers, and his assistant brings over the novelty check addressing it to Miller. Miller, once mad at the title change, is overecstatic, eyes wide as he holds the check. Deuce poses next to him, shaking Miller's hand, while the assistant snaps pictures of the two. Cock sneers from the outside of the ring.]

Deuce Diamond: I congratulate you on that match, Miller. You certainly proved that Cock is no Diamond Title holder.

Travis Miller: Look, man. Money is great and all, but I did it for the title. I pinned the guy, so I get my title.

[Miller holds the check with one arm and points to his waist justifiably. Deuce puts up a hand to quiet Miller down.]

Deuce Diamond: Easy, easy, Miller. I have to explain what else makes this title unique. You see, the pin you made was for the 50K, but there is a reason that it is called the Diamond Title. You see, the winner of a Diamond Title match earns the money, but the winner of the title is determined by me, Deuce Diamond. I want the Diamond Champion to be unblemished like a cut gem, not some flawed rhinestone.

Steve Hebert: Another truth.

[Cock seems to get the idea, looking anxious. Miller looks over at Deuce with a confused expression. Deuce, however, gives a disapproving look at Cock.]

Deuce Diamond: Chill out, Dick. You looked pathetic out there. While I might be the one judging the recipient, it certainly isn't you, pal. You can go jerk off.

[Cock steams to himself, Miller's grin returning to him. Deuce turns his attention back to Miller as his assistant slides back out of the ring.]

Travis Miller: You made the right decision, Diamond. You're all right.

[Deuce's own grin melts into a frown.]

Deuce Diamond: I haven't made my decision yet. See, Miller, you looked awfully sloppy out there too! Missing opportunities to take your opponent out, the holds looked loose and unprofessional...and your attitude in the ring bored me! As far as I'm concerned, your reward for your win is your check...so go out and buy yourself something nice. No one wins the Diamond Title unless I give the final vote or veto, and it certainly doesn't belong on you tonight, Miller, get me?

[Miller is suddenly outraged by the decision. He pushes the check back into Deuce's surprised arms and gives Deuce a good clock in the jaw through the check, a right hand that sends Deuce sprawling out of the ring. The millionaire adjusts his jaw as he looks up at Miller, cussing back at him without the mike.]

Steve Hebert: How awful! I can't believe Travis Miller would do this! How dare he!

Deuce Diamond: That certainly doesn't help you any, Miller! You're lucky I don't consider banning you from competition period! Let's go, Ms. Lincoln!

[Miller takes the check and steps on it, ripping it up while Deuce and his assistant escape through the crowd. Miller goes marching off after them, leaving Cock to scramble in the ring and try to piece together the ripped check.]

Cock: It's still good! Still good!

Steve Hebert: Cock is money hungry!

Lex Robinson: Can you believe this? The "Diamond Title"? Wow...

Steve Hebert: I just want 50k.

Lex Robinson: Doesn't everyone?

Steve Hebert: Pretty much, yes.

Lex Robinson: Thought so.

[The scene fades out with Cock trying to piece the check together.]

Winner: Travis Miller

Johnny Fireball: This should do the trick.

[After wrapping the chain around several objects and then securing it, he steps back, admiring his work.]

Johnny Fireball: That should be good enough.

["Dusting" off his hands, he walks away, chuckling at the sounds of Danny Boy Vegas' door handle jiggling, but unable to successfully open all the way.]

Johnny Fireball: Heh heh...

[Several more efforts are made by Danny Boy Vegas, who can now be heard cursing from inside of his locker room.]

Danny Boy Vegas: What in the blue goddamn hell...?

[He knocks several times, but it is useless, as well. By now, Johnny Fireball has walked away, thus trapping Danny Boy inside of his room. Another roar is soon overheard, though...]

Danny Boy Vegas: Open this goddamn door, right f'n now!

[BOOM!]

[Putting his boot to the door, he rips it off its hinges...]

[...The chain clatters to the ground, in the process.]

[CRASH!]

[A free man, Danny Boy Vegas stands above the fallen door, surveying the chain that now lies on the floor.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Who in the hell did this?! Why, I...

[Storming off, he apparently heads towards the ringside area.]

Number One Seed Contenders Match -- Deciding Match

Shane Donovan vs. Danny Boy Vegas vs. Johnny Fireball

Steve Hebert: What the fuck is he grinning about?

Lex Robinson: I think he has a hard on.

Steve Hebert: Well, I don’t see anyth–

[That is, until DBV's theme hits.]

Lex Robinson: Oh shits! Johnny Fireball wasn’t expecting that!

[Looking astonished as fuck, Fireball stares on as DBV erupts from behind the curtain. Racing down the aisle, DBV soon slides in the ring, immediately met with boot after boot, a la Johnny Fireball. However, this barely fazes DBV, who pushes himself up off the mat and exchanges the boots for rights and lefts of his own against Fireball's face.]

Steve Hebert: But he certainly was ready!

Lex Robinson: But he couldn’t keep him down! Danny Boy is retaliating.

Steve Hebert: Be nice, asshole.

Lex Robinson: I’m just telling it like it is.

[The onslaught continues, with DBV soon shooting Fireball across the ring in an Irish whip. Right at his heels, DBV attempts a clothesline -- but Fireball ducks underneath, after hitting the ropes. Slipping behind DBV, Fireball delivers a very swift dropkick that sends DBV right over the top rope and to the floor.]

Lex Robinson: He’s not letting up, either!

Steve Hebert: Whoops! There he goes over the top rope like a pansy.

Lex Robinson: What are you even talking about?

Steve Hebert: If only I knew.

[Of course, Fireball isn't satisfied with this and runs across the ring, hitting the ropes and charging back to the side where DBV is recovering from his fall -- and he suicide dives right at DBV, knocking him flat on the ground!]

Lex Robinson: And Fireball takes DBV down with a suicide dive.

Steve Hebert: TIME TO PLAY THE GAME!

Lex Robinson: ...what?

Steve Hebert: Yeah. Think about it.

[Peeling DBV up off the ground, Fireball tosses him partway up the ramp, before DBV trips and rolls along the cold metal. Following him, Fireball is quick to lay in a few vicious boots, before lifting DBV up once again -- and frankensteining him right on the ramp!]

Lex Robinson: Oh! What a blow!

Steve Hebert: What? Sorry, I was busy jerking off to the sound of DBV’s bones cracking.

Lex Robinson: Good god, stop touching my cock!

Steve Hebert: Oh, whoops.

[Although DBV is most likely out cold, Fireball tears him up off the ground yet again, whipping him almost the entire way up the ramp -- and hey, what do you know, DBV is still conscious. Stumbling and falling just to the side of the stage, next to the ramp, DBV soon finds himself the victim of a running splash, via Johnny Fireball. Meanwhile, the masked figure who was earlier seen beating down on Reno/Star/Ward appears at the entrance.]

Lex Robinson: Johnny is just decimating this poor guy!

Steve Hebert: Take a look at the masked dude.

Lex Robinson: This can’t be good.

[And soon thereafter, he rips his mask off, revealing himself as none other than the deceased Shane Donovan.]

Steve Hebert: Shane, you sexy man you!

[By now, Fireball and DBV have taken notice of Donovan's presence, and all they can do is gawk as he storms toward them.]

[...and that's still all they can do as he dives right on to them -- a parallel to his last SW appearance.]

[Dragging both DBV and Johnny Fireball back down toward the ring by the scruffs of their necks, Shane Donovan soon tosses them both inside, before climbing inside himself; inside, he drops a pair of elbows on both men, before lifting Johnny Fireball up. Positioning himself behind Fireball, Shane proceeds to waistlock him -- and then hits a German suplex on him that shakes the entire ring!]

Lex Robinson: Shane Donovan just storms in and takes control of this match.

[Of course, when Donovan turns around, he is speared straight to Hell by DBV.]

Steve Hebert: Spoke too soon, jackass.

[After pulling Donovan to his feet, DBV nearly levels the man with a few harsh right fists, before backing him into the corner. From there, he climbs up to the middle ropes, commencing a ten count punch.]

[This is soon broken up at the ninth punch by a semi-recovered Johnny Fireball; Fireball drills an elbow right into the small of DBV's back, tearing him right off the ropes. As DBV turns around, Fireball sends him nearly all the way across the ring with a headscissors takedown. DBV pops right back up, but immediately faces a running Fireball. Thinking quick, DBV sidesteps, even managing to kick Fireball in the back of the knee when he runs by. As a result, Fireball falls, skins his knee on the mat, and drops throat-first across the bottom rope, prompting DBV to make his way over and stab his foot into the back of Fireball's neck, choking him against the rope.]

Lex Robinson: This match is breaking out into complete mayhem.

Steve Hebert: I think my dick is twitching.

Lex Robinson: Well that’s...that’s just great.

[However, DBV's choking is soon erupted by the sound of someone approaching, which his keen hearing picks up on -- so he sidesteps, yet again, gripping the head of Shane Donovan, who has tried to make a sneak attack, in the process. Soon, Shane goes flying over the top rope, getting serious airtime, before tumbling to the floor below.]

Steve Hebert: The crazy Shane Donovan just isn’t doing very well tonight.

Lex Robinson: No, Steve. No he isn’t.

[With Shane Donovan momentarily out of commission, DBV stands Johnny Fireball, who is choking like his windpipe has been crushed, up and hits him with a VEGAS NIGHTS, TIJUANA DAZE!]

[...and then makes the pin!]

Steve Hebert: Oh fuck!

Lex Robinson: Danny Boy Vegas wins the match!

["Bull" by Weedeater plays, announcing DBV the winner, thus allowing him to become the number one seed for Lust.]

Steve Hebert: Time to take a piss.

[Danny Boy Vegas stands victorious in the ring, having his hand raised by the referee.]

Winner: Danny Boy Vegas

Ace Rodgers: Danny Boy, congratulations on your victory and in becoming the number one seed at Lust's tournament. Now with your match out of the way, what's next on your agenda?

Danny Boy Vegas: Next on my agenda? Walking into Lust and winning that damn tournament is next on my agenda. I don't care who else is in it; I am winning that damn Lust championship, becoming the first in the line of "Sin-themed" champions!

Ace Rodgers: I see, I see. And--...

[Danny Boy rips the microphone back, positioning it in front of his face.]

Danny Boy Vegas: As for Shane Donovan, I don't know who or what the hell you think you are... but... he's supposed to be dead! What the hell is going on here, Ace? I can't keep up with all of these faux-death schemes! That boy should have stayed in the grave; who does he think he is by coming out on top of that entrance, leaping on me and trying to win? This was MY match to win; not his!

[Some more cursing can be heard from Danny Boy.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Hell, I even had that guy's obituary! I don't know what the hell is going on...

[Just then, Shane Donovan walks into the scene, standing face-to-face with Danny Boy Vegas. Solemnly, he just stares at DBV, not saying a word, while Danny Boy becomes increasingly paranoid at Shane's actions.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Now lookie here, punk; you speak up... you speak up right damn now...

[...still nothing.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Well?

[Frustration and confusion can be heard from Danny Boy's voice. With the chance of something bad happening, several officials walk in and stand in between the two men.]

Danny Boy Vegas: Answer me, damnit! Answer me!

[Danny Boy Vegas is pushed away from Shane Donovan, who continues to silently stand there.]

Danny Boy Vegas: I just want some damn answers!

[Danny Boy officially disappears off camera, with the last shot showing Shane Donovan standing next to Ace Rodgers, unphased by the incident.]

World Title Match -- No DQ; Special Guest Referee: Zimdela Brudon

Tony Millennia vs. Stryker Graff

SUPPOSE YOU WERE TO DIE TONIGHT...
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY...

[Darkness engulfs the arena as Walking Dead begins. The stage illuminates with a flickering blind white light as mist pours out from the back. Soon, out of the mist steps Stryker Graff with that trademark grin on his. He stands in the center of the stage and looks out into the crowd. After a moment, he starts making his way down to the ring, cracking his knuckles and neck as he does so. He then slides under the bottom rope and then jumps to his feet. He climbs the top of a turnbuckle and looks over the crowd one more time before shaking his head in disgust, but with that grin on his face.]

Lex Robinson: The World Title match... is... now!

Steve Hebert: How dramatic of you, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Well, we have been building up to this match for months now.

Steve Hebert: I know; but still.

Lex Robinson: Will we have a new champion tonight? Only time will tell.

Steve Hebert: Actually, I can answer that. Yes, yes we will.

Lex Robinson: Actions shall speak louder than words, Steve.

["Love Is Not Enough" by Nine Inch Nails sputters to life, sending the crowd into an uproar. With every single light dead, smoke rises from beneath the stage. Rising from their dormant state, golden lights ignite all over. Shining down on Tony Millennia, who steps out from behind the curtain, a bright golden spotlight leads him down the aisle.]

but underneath we're not so tough

Lex Robinson: Uh... what's wrong with Tony?

Steve Hebert: Isn't it clear? He's drunk out of his fuckin' skull! Haha, he's gone back to his old ways; you know what that means, don't you?!

Lex Robinson: We'll see about this...

["Prison Sex" by Tool begins to play, as the fans start to boo loudly. Maynard James Keenan begins to sing as Zimdela Brudon, who is wearing a black-and-white pinstriped dress to signify his referee position, and Hope Finwood walk out onto the entranceway, both chained together by a two-way dog collar. Around her hips, Hope wears a chain of handcuffs which dangle from her side, as the duo finally reach the ring to a mixed ovation from the crowd. Unlocking himself, Zimdela chokes Hope, licks her forehead, releases his grip and rolls into the ring, staring at an eager Stryker Graff and a drunken Tony Millennia.]

Lex Robinson: Listen to the fans actually cheer for Zimdela Brudon!

Steve Hebert: Hey, not all of them are cheering. Most of them still remember what kind of sicko he was!

Lex Robinson: And the other remember how dominant and how hardcore he was.

[Calling for the match to begin, Zimdela steps into the center of the ring, demanding both the champ and the contender to step forward.]

Lex Robinson: Here we go... Tony Millennia is stumbling around as he and Stryker circle each other.

Steve Hebert: I told you that he's drunk out of his mind!

Lex Robinson: Well Jeez... Tony swings a few times, and misses!

Steve Hebert: What were you expecting?! Each time, Stryker Graff can easily bob away, allowing for him to eventually strike Tony in the gut with a knee. So much for our World Champ, eh?

Lex Robinson: Damnit, Tony falls to his hands-and-knees, allowing Stryker Graff to put the boots to his skull and upper-body. He picks Millennia up, and whips him into the ropes, allowing him to strike the inebriated Tony Millennia with a clothesline.

Steve Hebert: See? Tony drops right back down to the mat like a sack of bricks. And there's the headlock of doom! Tony may as well just tap out right now.

Lex Robinson: I think not.

Steve Hebert: Even Zimdela is grimacing at that headlock!

Lex Robinson: Hell no. Actually, he looks quite bored of it. I don't blame him, either; this is supposed to be a "No-DQ" match. Headlocks and "No-DQ" matches usually don't go well together.

Steve Hebert: Stryker can do whatever he wants; therefore he opts to use the headlock. It's that simple.

[Boring of the hold, Zimdela questions Tony's condition, thus forcing Stryker to squeeze even tighter.]

Lex Robinson: Blood red in the face, Tony refuses to quit.

Steve Hebert: Agh! That drunken prick is slowly getting to a kneeling position. What the hell? He should be out of it!

Lex Robinson: Instead, he's not. He sends some elbows and punches to Stryker Graff's stomach. He gives a few more shots to Stryker, who tries to defend himself, but gets backed up in the corner.

Steve Hebert: Oh, what the fuck?! Millennia's on a mission, as he puts multiple fists into the gut of Graff. This is retarded! Zimdela counts numerous times for Tony to quit it... but he doesn't!

Lex Robinson: Don't speak so soon. He finally breaks it, stumbles back rather sheepishly and charges at Stryker, hoping to charge his shoulder into the contender's gut, but to no avail. Stryker falls to the side, smashing his right shoulder into the steel post!

Steve Hebert: Hahaha, that drunk idiot!

[Grimacing at the collision, Zimdela watches as Stryker Graff steps towards Tony, grabs him by the hair and heaves him to the ground, forcing him onto his stomach. Grabbing onto Tony's right arm, Stryker begins to wrench it back, using as much force and pressure as he possibly can; even stepping over it, so that the arm is in between his legs.]

Lex Robinson: Jesus, Stryker Graff is just trying to break Tony's arm!

Steve Hebert: Hah, that's Tony's drinking arm, too; I bet.

[Writhing in pain, Tony is questioned by Zimdela, only to receive a head shake -- "no" -- in response. After several painful seconds, Stryker finally releases the hold, smirking at the damage he has unloaded onto Tony Millennia.]

Lex Robinson: Look at that hateful snare. He didn't just try to win; he tried to injure Tony, as well.

Steve Hebert: Of course. Why wouldn't he? Let's get serious here.

Lex Robinson: Whatever happened to having respect for your opponent?

Steve Hebert: It went right out the door when Tony and Stryker first laid eyes on each other.

Lex Robinson: God, now Stryker is posing to the fans, while Tony slowly climbs to a kneeling position; holding his shoulder tightly.

Steve Hebert: No amount of alcohol will fix that shoulder. No amount of stumbling and grumbling will, either.

[When Stryker turns around, he notices Tony up on his feet. Thinking quickly, he darts forward and tries for a clothesline. However, Tony is able to duck just in the nick of time, sending Stryker roaring past him. Spinning around, Tony conects with a stiff punch to the back of Stryker Graff's neck, which floors him.]

Lex Robinson: A clothesline attempt is foiled by a duck and a punch to the back of Stryker Graff's neck!

Steve Hebert: Oh, what terrible cheating!

Lex Robinson: Shut up, you self-righteous bastard.

Steve Hebert: How dare you! Tony is repeatedly slamming his fist into the back of Stryker's head and neck and you're okay with it? Pffft, then I feel sorry for you and your morality.

Lex Robinson: Christ, you're so lame sometimes.

Steve Hebert: Luckily, we have Zimdela, who tries to restore order by plucking Tony off Stryker.

Lex Robinson: What the... he should have let him go!

Steve Hebert: No way. I knew Zimdela would be a fair referee.

Lex Robinson: This is screwed up.

Steve Hebert: Tony shoves Zimdela away and returns to punching Stryker; only to piss Zimdela off. Now he's done it. Latching onto Tony, Zimdela yanks the World champ backward, forcing him away from Stryker Graff, who might I add, will be the new World Champion. I can feel it in.

Lex Robinson: I sincerely hope not.

Steve Hebert: Zimdela is a good guy. He's even allowing Stryker Graff to regain his footing; holding back Tony Millennia, in the process.

[This time, Stryker and Millennia lock-up; with Millennia sending a knee into the gut of Stryker Graff, who relinquishes his grip. His staggering stopping for a moment, Tony snaps Stryker Graff up into the air and drops him back down with a suplex. Flipping over, he makes the cover...]

Lex Robinson: Here's the chance of a pinfall...!

Steve Hebert: Only a one! That drunken bastard can't put Stryker Graff away. It's not like I didn't see that coming or anything. And now he begins to taunt Stryker... it's obvious he's trying to knock him unconscious with the smell of booze.

Lex Robinson: Ugh...

Steve Hebert: Millennia then snaps up to his feet before Stryker, giving the man formerly known as "Sean Graves" some quick kicks to the shin. He can't even strike him like a real man. Backing up, he even manages to lift his foot high enough to strike Stryker Graff in the face. I'm surprised he didn't just keel over and vomit.

Lex Robinson: Come on, man; he's not as plastered as you let on.

Steve Hebert: Huh? Oh yeah? Is that so? Then why is he back to stagger around the ring? Hmm?

Lex Robinson: Because... because he just delivered a big kick to Stryker Graff, that's why.

Steve Hebert: Yeah, and pigs don't fly out of my asshole.

Lex Robinson: ...

[Grabbing Stryker's left leg, Tony drops down on it, delivering a hardy elbowdrop, while Zimdela stands in the corner, doing a pretty good job at refereeing, thus far. Wrenching the leg around his waist, Tony soon stands back up, twists it around his right leg and hooks in a Figure-4 leglock. Falling back, albeit a bit dazed, he locks in the hold.]

Steve Hebert: Did he just fall amidst applying a figure-four?!

Lex Robinson: No, he didn't.

Steve Hebert: Like hell he didn't!

Lex Robinson: If I were you, I'd be more concerned with Stryker Graff tapping out.

Steve Hebert: That'll NEVER happen! Never! I guarantee it!

[A mixed flow of chants arise from the fans, with Stryker still trying to fight off the pain. In the meantime, Zimdela lazily leans up against the turnbuckle pads, awaiting for something interesting to happen.]

Lex Robinson: Get in there and ask for the submission, Zimdela! Goddamnit!

Steve Hebert: There'll be no damn submissions in this match. I swear to hell...

[Turning over onto his stomach, Graff reverses the pain. Quickly, Millennia releases the grip, and pulls himself together, stumbling upwards to his feet. He holds and rubs the back of his head, as if it was bothering him, and wobbles towards Stryker.]

Steve Hebert: Thumb to the eye! Hurrah! Smart move by Stryker Graff, who thwarts Tony Millennia's attempted scoop.

[Hurrying in, Zimdela warns Stryker Graff not to play dirty, stops and chuckles to himself.]

Lex Robinson: Zimdela was just warning Stryker around "playing dirty"... but he stopped.

Steve Hebert: Zimmy doesn't care about people "playing dirty". In fact, he's FOR it, Lex. Get with the program.

Lex Robinson: Eh, I suppose you're right.

[The camera zooms in, getting a clear shot of Tony Millennia with a trickle of blood next to his eye. He charges for Stryker who is almost to his feet; but misses, thanks to Stryker evading the attack. When Millennia turns around, Stryker instantly grabs onto his right shoulder and single-arm DDTs him onto the canvas, further damaging Millennia's shoulder.]

Steve Hebert: Pow-wow! That's what I like!

Lex Robinson: Tony's arm has just been driven right back down to the canvas! Stryker is focusing on his arm and shoulder area, hoping to take him apart.

Steve Hebert: It's a smart move. Take out his key arsenal and it'll end the match; hurting that arm will remove that arsenal. Not to mention he is as drunk as a friggin' lemur! A cross armbar is even applied by Stryker Graff, now. Tony's going to tap right here; right now. I know it.

Lex Robinson: We'll see.

[Zimdela again asks Tony for the submission, but yet again, Tony ignores him. Reaching out for the bottom rope, Tony tries to break the hold, but Stryker maintains the pressure on the arm, placing all of his strength on keeping Tony grounded in the center of the ring.]

Lex Robinson: Tony's reaching... trying to slide... anything... to get him to that rope.

Steve Hebert: Guess what, though? None of it's working. Tony's in the middle of the ring, much to his demise.

Lex Robinson: In pain, Tony is screaming something out... I don't know what it is.

Steve Hebert: Probably, "Pass me another beer!"

Lex Robinson: ...No, moron. Something about murdering Stryker Graff, I think. The camera and microphone isn't picking it up clearly.

Steve Hebert: I'm sure it's something stupid, anyhow.

[As Tony is finally able to pull himself near the ropes, he reaches out for the bottom rope, forcing Zimdela to actually move in and release the grip, which Stryker refuses to do.]

Steve Hebert: Ack! Come on, Zimmy! You, of all people, shouldn't be enforcing this stupid shit!

Lex Robinson: Well, he is! Deal with it.

Steve Hebert: Zimdela has just grabbed Stryker Graff by the hair and pulled him off Tony Millennia! What the fuck?!

Lex Robinson: Whoa! Even Zimmy was getting sick of this pace!

Steve Hebert: He's just a referee! He has no right! Up to his feet, Stryker Graff is pissed. He shoves Zimdela, who doesn't back down! Oh my god, how terrible!

Lex Robinson: Zimmy, of course, not particularly liking that shove, fires back by punching Stryker Graff upside the head!

Steve Hebert: Oh Christ; it's on, now.

Lex Robinson: The punch knocks Stryker to the mat; but he quickly bounces right back up, scurrying after Zimdela, who just plants him back down to the mat with a vicious spinebuster!

Steve Hebert: Oh, fuck me. Both men are laid, now. What a bunch of assholes.

Lex Robinson: Clad in his pinstriped dress, Zimdela stands up, snares at both men, who are floored and actually begins to count both men out! What the heck is happening now?!

Steve Hebert: Zimdela has obviously had one-too-many cumshots to the face. That's all that I can figure.

Lex Robinson: I can't believe he's actually going to count both men out...

Lex Robinson: Neither Tony or Stryker are moving. What happens if both men get counted out?

Steve Hebert: They'd hand ME the title, then. Or at least they should.

[At five, Zimdela throws his hands down, stumbles out of the ring and searches underneath the apron.]

Lex Robinson: Uhhh...

Steve Hebert: Zimdela wants to play hide-and-seek!

Lex Robinson: By the looks of the objects he is pulling out, I don't think so.

Steve Hebert: Good; because Hide and Seek was a shitty movie, too... and holy shit... barbed-wire boards and barbed-wire chairs!

Lex Robinson: Goddamn right. I have a feeling that Zimdela has become fed up of the violence -- or the lack thereof -- in this match. Things are about to be turned up a notch.

Steve Hebert: About damn time, too.

Lex Robinson: In the ring, the first to rise to his feet is Stryker Graff, who manages to look up, watching Zimdela slide the objects into the ring. Patting Zimdela for his efforts is Hope Finwood, who hops around the ring like a horny rabbit.

Steve Hebert: Now that's hot.

[Crawling back into the ring, Zimdela is about to be horded by Stryker Graff, who has vengeance in his eyes. Unfortunately for Stryker, Zimdela is aware of this, resulting in Zimdela popping to his feet and swinging the barbed-wire wrapped board into Stryker's face, busting him open.]

Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus!

Lex Robinson: He's bleeding! There is blood spurting from Stryker's face! Awesome... err... I mean...

Steve Hebert: We all know what you mean, you heartless prick.

[Gathering his wits, Stryker Graff slowly rises and turns towards Zimdela once more. He's about ready to attack him some more, when Tony Millennia crawls up behind him and lowblows him. Once Zimdela lays the barbed-wire board flat on the mat, Tony stands up, and Atomic Whips Stryker onto the barbed-wire board. As a result, a loud dog-like yelp is let out from Stryker's mouth as he rolls around on the canvas, feeling the pain.]

Steve Hebert: Jesus H. Christ! His ass... his testicles... his legs!

Lex Robinson: Writhing in pain, around the ring, Stryker Graff holds his... behind, trying to regain his strength.

Steve Hebert: Shit; someone needs to pass Tony Millennia some goddamn whiskey or some shit. This is horrid.

Lex Robinson: Dropping down to one knee, Tony proceeds to punch Stryker Graff across the forehead several times, opening the flesh wound on his forehead!

Steve Hebert: Oh, for cryin' out loud.

Lex Robinson: Lifting the board up and dropping it onto Stryker Graff, Tony backs into the ropes and bounces out. Double-stomp onto the board! The barbed-wire digs into Stryker Graff's skin!

Steve Hebert: Jesus merciful...

Lex Robinson: This is just nuts! Kicking the board away, Tony eagle-splits Stryker Graff's legs, forms a fist with his left hand and punches him in the groin!

Steve Hebert: The groin?! Fuck that; that was one punch to the cock! That even hurt Zimdela to look at!

Lex Robinson: Falling down onto Stryker Graff, Tony makes the cover...

Steve Hebert: He fell down because he's SO FRIGGIN' DRUNK!

Lex Robinson: Yes, we get it, Steve. The count is being made...

Steve Hebert: He kicks out! Holy Christ almighty! Too f'n close!

Lex Robinson: Jeez...

Steve Hebert: I think I just had a mild heart attack.

Lex Robinson: Zimdela was pretty close on making that three. I gotta admit it.

[Tony gets to his feet, making sure to drag Stryker up with him. Applying a reverse facelock, he lifts Stryker Graff up into a reverse suplex position, only to have the former Platinum Champ sneak out of it, landing on his feet behind Tony.]

Lex Robinson: Stryker Graff escapes...

Steve Hebert: And he kicks Tony in the kidneys! He applies a reverse facelock of his own, hoists Tony up into a reverse suplex position and drops down, hitting a reverse spike-DDT onto a barbed-wire wrapped chair!

Lex Robinson: Ow! Motherfucking ouch!

Steve Hebert: That bloody bastard is covering Tony, now, too! It's going to be over!

Lex Robinson: It's Tony's turn to kickout!

Steve Hebert: Ah, fuck it.

Lex Robinson: Angered at the lack of a three-count, Stryker slowly climbs to his feet and gets back in Zimdela's face. Instead of attacking him, though, Stryker maintains his focus on Tony, who has blood coming from his head; most likely from landing on that barbed-wire chair.

Steve Hebert: "Most likely"? That's a definite. Furthermore, Stryker Graff is sliding that chair out from under Tony, cranks it above his head and bashes it across Tony's back, laughing at the skin being torn off upon the chairs rebound.

Lex Robinson: Such sick details.

Steve Hebert: Tell me about it.

[Kicking the chair aside, he walks on over to the barbed-wire board, lays it against the turnbuckle pads and steps back out to Tony Millennia, who is grimacing in pain.]

Steve Hebert: Stryker has some devious plans. Those are my favorite kind, too.

Lex Robinson: I'm sure. Grabbing a handful of Tony's hair, Stryker Graff lifts Tony up, points at the barbed-wire board in the corner and chops Tony, loosening him up for something.

Steve Hebert: That something being an Irish-whip. There goes Tony...

Lex Robinson: No! Tony stops just short of the board!

Steve Hebert: Not if Stryker Graff has anything to say about it. He charges in, willing to slam both Tony and himself through that barbed-wire board...!

Lex Robinson: Tony turns around. Release belly-to-belly suplex to Stryker Graff by Tony Millennia! He goes flying through the air, through the barbed-wire board and lands upside-down in the corner; tangled up in barbed-wire and wood! Jesus!

Steve Hebert: Son of a...

Lex Robinson: Tony leans backward, trying to get the victory over Stryker Graff, who remains in the mangled heap of debris...

Steve Hebert: Kickout! You could set fire to Stryker Graff and he'd still kick out, goddamnit.

Lex Robinson: At this point, I wouldn't doubt it.

[In a messy haze, Tony begins climbing up to a kneeling position, thanks to the middle rope, which he leans his upper-body against. At the same time, Stryker Graff also slowly rises, trying to scrape blood from his eyes. When he finally plants both feet on the canvas, Stryker stumbles around the ring, unaware of Tony's position up against the ropes.]

Lex Robinson: It almost appears as if Stryker has blood in his eyes.

Steve Hebert: Oh nos. This is a terrible development. Without sight, how can he possibly see? Or win, for that matter?! Oh, fuck...

Lex Robinson: That's what I was about to say; though there'll be nothing wrong with that.

Steve Hebert: Pffft...

Lex Robinson: He stumbles around the ring, eventually bumping into Zimdela, who ducks beneath a punch from Stryker Graff; who most likely believes this is Tony Millennia!

Steve Hebert: Christ, clean out your eyes, Stryker!

Lex Robinson: When Zimdela turns back around, he is caught with the Grave Digger, one of the key moves done by his alter-ego, Sean Graves!

Steve Hebert: He dropped Zimdela onto that barbed-wire chair, too! The same one Stryker dropped Tony on, earlier! What sweet irony!

Lex Robinson: I'm not sure if he... wait a minute... he's smiling...

Steve Hebert: Oh my God, it's another miracle! First, Johnny Legend learns to walk again, then Shane Donovan rises from the dead, and now this! He can see!

Lex Robinson: He was never blinded by his own blood to begin with. What was the meaning of this?

Steve Hebert: Considering that Tony is out and Zimdela is the person who busted him open... uhhh... well, let me just say that I think Zimdela had it coming to him.

[Rolling out of the ring, Stryker Graff sneaks up behind a concerned Hope Finwood, grabs her from behind, kisses her and rips a pair of handcuffs off her tights.]

Steve Hebert: Great; now Stryker has herpes. Bad move right there.

Lex Robinson: Shocked, Hope Finwood snaps back at Stryker's unwanted approach; giving him a harsh slap across his left cheek! Listen to the fans roar in approval!

Steve Hebert: Screw that. Watch Stryker fire back with a punch to HER jaw! Man, this has all broken down out here. On top of all that, Stryker Graff has a pair of handcuffs for some reason.

Lex Robinson: Handcuffs which he literally RIPPED away from Hope Finwood, whom he just knocked loopy! Someone better check on her. Hell, Zimdela's barely even awake after being dropped onto that barbed-wire chair.

[Rolling into the ring, Stryker Graff smirks at Tony Millennia, who is holding his right shoulder, possibly having it damaged even further after the release belly-to-belly suplex. Leaning up against the ropes, Tony finally manages to pull himself using the top rope; only to have Stryker come up from behind, grab his right wrist and lock it into one of the cuffs.]

Steve Hebert: He's going to cuff Tony up!

Lex Robinson: What's he doing here?

Steve Hebert: I just told you! Tony's getting his preview of a jail visit! Stryker now cuffs the other end around the top rope. There's nowhere Tony can go; he's stuck in position. My god, this is going to be lovely!

Lex Robinson: Slithering back, a bloody Stryker Graff hunches over, picks up a barbed-wire chair and caresses it lovingly. Without warning, he bolts forward and blasts the barbed-wire wrapped chair around Tony's skull! Holy Christ! Tony falls up against the ropes... only to be struck with another chairshot! And another... and another! My god, there's another shot!

Steve Hebert: Hahaha, oh yes! Tony's skin has to be peeling off his forehead by now!

[Finally, after 10 chairshots to the cranium, Tony falls flat on his back; his arm still dangling from the top rope -- his right arm still handcuffed. Tossing the chair out of the ring, Stryker Graff falls on top of Tony, while Zimdela begins to recover from being dumped on his head...]

Lex Robinson: My God... this isn't good. This isn't good for Tony's World Champion status and for his health...

Steve Hebert: And Zimdela is stirring! He notices Stryker laying across Tony Millennia... he's crawling over!

Lex Robinson: Sadly, he doesn't see what Stryker Graff has done to Hope Finwood!

Steve Hebert: He's starting the count....!

Steve Hebert: My Jesus, hurry up.

Steve Hebert: Just one more...

Lex Robinson: It can't...

Steve Hebert: It can! He did it! We have a NEW World Champion!

Lex Robinson: Goddamnit...

Steve Hebert: I know! I'm as glad as you!

Lex Robinson: Joy is the last thing I'm feeling, Steve...

Steve Hebert: Buck up, Lex.

[A ring official hands the World Title to Stryker Graff, who poses in the ring, holding it high into the air. In the meantime, Hope Finwood has also regained her senses and rolls into the ring, helping Zimdela up to his feet. Right away, she begins whispering something in his ear, forcing him to pull himself up to his feet; staring at Stryker who has his back turned, celebrating his first Sin Wrestling World Title victory.]

Steve Hebert: Can you believe it?! This is amazing!

Lex Robinson: Zimdela has been informed of Stryker Graff's attack on Hope Finwood!

Steve Hebert: Bah, no biggie. I mean, Stryker just won the title... plus, it only happened because she got in his way.

Lex Robinson: Uhh... did you watch the same match as me?

Steve Hebert: Hell yeah, I did.

Lex Robinson: Right...

[Just as Stryker Graff turns around, Zimdela Brudon charges forward and clotheslines the new World Champion, causing the title to go spiralling to the ground. Next, Zimdela lifts Stryker back up, throttles both hands around his neck and lifts him up into the air, driving him back down to the ring with a two-handed sit-down chokeslam-powerbomb!]

Steve Hebert: Gah!

Lex Robinson: Serves him right! That's all that I can say. I, for one, am happy as hell to see Zimdela back for one night. To have this travesty happen, though, is just sickening. Stryker Graff should be... he should be shot!

Steve Hebert: God, you're dreadful.

[Holding up the World Title, Zimdela glares at it, reminiscing about his last World Title reign. Seconds later, he throws the title down onto Stryker Graff's chest and walks away, with Hope Finwood, who is now sporting a black eye, following close behind.]

Lex Robinson: Tony's World Title reign has come to an end.

Steve Hebert: A reign that lasted all of one month. Yaaaawn. This is the era of Stryker Graff, now.

Lex Robinson: The same Stryker Graff who is currently laid out in the ring?

Steve Hebert: Fuck you.

[The image fades out, last showing Tony Millennia still handcuffed to the top rope, and Stryker Graff laying on the canvas, having the World Title draped over his chest.]

Winner: Stryker Graff

Man #1: Alright, you bastard, tell me where the coke is!

[The second man suddenly jolts forward, stopping the first guy from speaking any more.]

Man #2: Hush, Joe! Ixnay on the cocainenay, okayay?

"Joe": Fine, fine. You talk to the guy. You're the patient one.

Man #2: Will do.

[The second man, dressed similarily like the first man, turns around and focuses his attention on Corey Page, who remains seated, not knowing what to do or say. Like the first man, the second guy also jolts forward; except he grabs hold of Corey's collar, shaking him violently.]

Man #2: Alright, you fucking prick! Tell me where the heroin, illegal Zimdela Brudon tapes, the tapes of those murders, drug deals and prostitution are located!

[Wide-eyed, Corey Page still can't mutter out an intelligible response.]

Corey Page: I... I... uh... what... I...

Man #2: And the goat... what does she have to do with all this?! What kind of malicious sex crimes have been presented onto her!

Corey Page: I... I... uh... she's my pet... and my business partner! And let go of me!

[After several seconds of a tense staredown, the second man is pulled back by "Joe", who is now wielding a police badge.]

Joe: That's enough, Chris. I'll take over.

"Chris": Good; because I want to throw this asshole in jail forever.

Corey Page: But... but... but... one of you are supposed to be a good cop!

Chris: Fuck you.

Corey Page: Yes, sir.

Joe: All right, Mister Page, we're just looking for the evidence, that's all we need.

Corey Page: What evidence?! Listen here, buddy, I have a pay per view to present. I have no time for this foolishness. You assholes have already caused me to lose millions of dollars already -- AND you've forced my wrestling federation to come two inches away from closing down. Hell, we're down to just one show a month, now!

Chris: Don't talk back to Joe, or we'll beat the shit out of you and your goat.

[Corey Page lets out an overly audible sigh, which causes him to get back-handed across the face by Joe.]

Corey Page: Hey!

Joe: We've had numerous reports of thousands of violations -- both on air and backstage. All we want is the proof, which you are trying to hide. Please hand it over and this mess can be cleared.

Corey Page: That's the problem. There is no evidence! I don't even know what you guys are talking about!

[Both Joe and Chris take a minute to recollect their thoughts, while Corey continues to grumble and roar about being mistreated.]

Corey Page: This is ridiculous. I would like to know who "tipped" you guys off! Because A) there's no truth to it; and B) you guys are fucking dumb.

[Refusing to answer to Corey's words, Joe and Chris stand side-by-side.]

Joe: Well, he's not going to give up this easily.

Corey Page: Now let me out of here, now! I have to meet my girlfriend in just ten minutes.

Chris: I thought you said you had a show to run...

Corey Page: I did say that!

Joe: Did you just lie to us, Mister Page?

Corey Page: Ugh...

Chris: I think he did, Joe; I think he did.

[The questioning continues for Corey Page, who refuses to divulge any more information to the duo. Even so, he maintains his position on the chair, while both men gather to put their thoughts together. As Corey listens to another question from "Chris", he slams his head down on the desk, hoping to knock himself unconscious.]

[Fade out.]

Post-Christmas Gift Ladder Match

Nikita vs. Raziel vs. Mike Phantasy

Lex Robinson: Here we are, folks; it's main event time!

Steve Hebert: About time, too; I'm starting to get hungry.

Lex Robinson: As you should all know, this is a "Post-Christmas Gift Ladder Match". The rules are that once you climb that ladder, you get a box and that box is yours to keep. You must them immediately leave the ring, as you're out of the match, leaving the last box to be fought for by the two others who remain in the match.

Steve Hebert: "Post-Christmas"? Christmas was about a month ago; what the fuck? Are we this far behind schedule, Lex?

Lex Robinson: Short answer: yes; long answer: yes, yes we are.

Steve Hebert: Eh, fine by me.

Lex Robinson: Ultraviolence Champion, Raziel, is out here... with a trashcan, of all things. He grabbed the microphone from the ring announcer, and now he's rolling into the ring. What's going on here, now?

Steve Hebert: I don't know; but I'm going to listen intently.

Lex Robinson: You would.

[Standing in the center of the ring, Raziel places the trashcan to his right, while yanking the Ultraviolence Title off his shoulder.]

Lex Robinson: I mean, Raziel isn't exactly one for talking...

Steve Hebert: Which makes this even more important! So, hush.

Raziel: I'm going to keep this short and sweet. What many of you people don't know is that your new World Champion, Stryker Graff, and I are pretty good friends. Sure, we've had our battles, but we've also had our success... which brings me to my next topic. Zimdela Brudon, what you did to Stryker/Sean/whatever he feels like calling himself after his title win was ridiculous.

Steve Hebert: I agree!

Raziel: How dare you mock his celebration like that?! Word around the back is that you're some kind of "Ultraviolence God" and a legend; well, I spit on you.. and I spit on your title.

[Staring at the Ultraviolence Title, Raziel literally spits on the title in front of him and then heaves it into the trashcan.]

Raziel: But most of all, I spit on your legacy for ruining Stryker Graff's title win celebration.

[Picking up the trashcan that still has the Ultraviolence Title inside of it, Raziel holds it over his head; only to forcefully slam it to the floor below. Following that, he heaves the microphone back towards the ring announcer, while everyone remains shocked about what they have just witnessed.]

Lex Robinson: Can you believe this?! He just threw the Ultraviolence Title in the garbage!

Steve Hebert: Well, it is a garbage title, anyhow. I mean, come on... "Ultraviolence"... sheesh.

Lex Robinson: With all due respect, I think people like Zimdela Brudon, Bal Sagoth and even Aphrodisia would take offense to that.

Steve Hebert: Times change, Lex. Besides, Zimdela should have let Stryker Graff have his time in the sun.

Lex Robinson: Oh, for cryin' out loud, it's Stryker Graff's own fault for what happened!

Steve Hebert: Don't tell me you -- Lex Robinson, of all people -- are sticking up for... Zimdela Brudon? Did you start going to his parties in your underwear or something, or what?

Lex Robinson: No, it's just common sense.

Steve Hebert: Christ.

[The initial lyrics of Matthew Good Band’s “Apparitions” hit the arena as the lights turns out and white and orange lights strobe the crowd, the ring and the stage.]

[Soon. the colored lights are replaced with blue lights strobing the stage and the aisle; with fog starting to roll in.]

[Finally, Mike Phantasy emerges from the fog, dressed in his normal baggy ring wear. He walks down the aisle, barely glimpsing the audience at his sides.]

[He stops just a few feet short of the ring, walks around to the announcer's booth and stands in front of it, glaring down at the Ultraviolence Title inside the toppled-over trashcan.]

Lex Robinson: Err... from the odd to the weird, here's Mike Phantasy.

Steve Hebert: You be nice to him or he'll kill you. I mean it, too.

Lex Robinson: I'm sure. I still can't believe that it was him who kidnapped Chris Carson at the last Impulse.

Steve Hebert: Believe it. I'm sure Chris Carson is in a better place, now. I mean, hey; that's what he gets for being Chris Carson.

Lex Robinson: You're just so awful, Steve.

Steve Hebert: I am, aren't I?

Lex Robinson: For the time being, Raziel stands in the ring, right next to the ladder, keeping a keen eye on Mike Phantasy. However, this stance should come to an end once Nikita makes her way out...

[The arena goes dark and deep blue lights faintly illuminate the arena. "Burn" by Nine Inch Nails erupts over the speakers in the arena.]

[The blue lights flash brightly and then go out, leaving the arena in complete darkness.]

[Whitish blue strobe lights begin flashing to the beat of the song as Nikita steps out onto the stage with the words "The End of the World" flashing on the screen behind her. She looks around the arena before making her way down the ramp. Upon reaching the ring, she slides into under the bottom rope and jumps up, smirking as she cracks her knuckles to prepare for the match.]

Steve Hebert: There she is. I wonder what she's feeling, now that Stryker Graff finally dethroned Tony Millennia, one of the longest reigning World Champions ever in Sin Wrestling.

Lex Robinson: ...With one defense, that is. And that came earlier tonight.

Steve Hebert: You know what I'm talking about.

Lex Robinson: And who knows what she's thinking. If she plays her cards right, she can earn the number one contendership against Stryker Graff.

Steve Hebert: Yes, but so can Raziel and Mike Phantasy. Heck, they could even walk away with Nikita's Platinum Title that's hanging in the air in one of those boxes.

Lex Robinson: Just like I said seconds ago, Raziel is turning to face Nikita, taking his eyes off Mike Phantasy.

Steve Hebert: Uh ohs. Plus, Nikita is just relaxing against the corner; this could be a mistake, Lex. An early mistake in a match like this could be fatal.

Lex Robinson: Definitely. And your words prove to be correct as Mike Phantasy slides into the ring, carrying that trashcan with him.

Steve Hebert: I'm always right, Lex! Bam! What a wickedly violent shot to the head! Raziel has been dropped to the ground, much to the joy of Mike Phantasy, who has turned into a sick, sick man... I like it!

Lex Robinson: I knew you would. And another trashcan shot by Mike Phantasy! This time, he places the trashcan over Raziel's head and commences stomping and beating on it! Jesus Christ!

Steve Hebert: He tastes blood, Lex!

Lex Robinson: Going to the top rope, he even does a shooting star legdrop onto the trashcan, bashing Raziel's face and head in! My God... this needs to stop! Blood can be seen dripping from the can and everything!

Steve Hebert: I told you so!

Lex Robinson: As all of this is happening, Nikita remains standing in the corner. I have no idea...

Steve Hebert: And another stomp onto Raziel! Unfortunately, Mike finally pulls the trashcan off Raziel's head, awww.

Lex Robinson: Oh man; his head is busted open. I wasn't a fan of what Raziel just did to the Ultraviolence Title and to Zimdela Brudon's legacy, but this is not right. He's being mugged by Mike Phantasy, who jumped him from behind.

Steve Hebert: Speaking of mugging, look what Mike is doing now! He's grabbing Raziel's legs and placing him into the Finite Destruction!

Lex Robinson: Good Christ. He has it locked it. Leaning back, he applies all kinds of pressure all over Raziel's body. But what I can't understand, is why Nikita is just standing there...?!

Steve Hebert: Don't speak too soon, Lex; she's moving... she's moving up that ladder!

Lex Robinson: And Mike Phantasy sees this; but is doing nothing about it.

Steve Hebert: He's doing something, Lex. He's pulling back on Raziel's legs even harder. He may even snap Raziel in half by the time he's finished.

Lex Robinson: I know, but... she's got one of the boxes! Nikita is at the top of the ladder and she has one of the boxes. This is where she's supposed to climb down, retreat to the back and open it.

Steve Hebert: She's not, though. Alternatively, she's reaching out again. She's pulling down the second box... does this mean she's the number one contender AND the Platinum Champion?!

Lex Robinson: I don't know. She's... she's throwing one of the boxes down! Just in the nick of time, Mike Phantasy officially breaks the hold on Raziel, catches one of the boxes and smirks. This is retarded. What's going on here?!

Steve Hebert: For once; I'm just as clueless as you are.

[At the top of the ladder, Nikita leans against the rungs, slowly unwrapping the box; while Mike does the same inside of the ring.]

Lex Robinson: Is this match over?! It barely began; they're opening the boxes!

Steve Hebert: I guess it is! Merry belated Christmas, Lex, you ugly bastard!

Lex Robinson: It's a Merry belated Christmas for Nikita, as she has just opened the box and pulls out... the Platinum Title!

Steve Hebert: Holy shit, she retains her title!

Lex Robinson: Indeed she does. Which means...

Steve Hebert: Oh my God! Mike Phantasy... Mike Phantasy is going to headline Cycle of Sin! For the second time in two years, Mike Phantasy will headline Cycle of Sin, where he'll get a World Title shot against Stryker Graff!

Lex Robinson: You heard it right here. My god, what is happening?

Steve Hebert: This is too awesome for words, Lex... I mean... wow... my God! Mike Phantasy will take on Stryker Graff! After what he did to Chris Carson, I'd be afraid if I were Graff. Then again, this is Stryker Graff we're talking about...

Lex Robinson: The same Stryker Graff who got punked out by Zimdela Brudon...

Steve Hebert: Ack, shut it!

Lex Robinson: The same Stryker Graff, whose ally, Raziel, is laying on the mat in a pool of his own blood -- all thanks to Mike Phantasy.

Steve Hebert: Shit, you're right!

Lex Robinson: The same Stryker Graff...

Steve Hebert: I'll take it from here. The same Stryker Graff, who is the NEW World Champion!

[Finally hopping down off the ladder, Nikita holds her Platinum Title into the air and slowly rolls out of the ring, leaving Mike Phantasy alone with Raziel. Grinning wildly, Mike hunches over, reaches into his tights and pulls out a marker.]

Lex Robinson: A marker has been taken out of Mike's tights. He's lurching over Raziel's body; what could he be up to now?

Steve Hebert: He's writing the number "2" on him! Chris Carson was the first, and I guess Raziel is the second...?!

Lex Robinson: The second to what, though?!

Steve Hebert: I don't know!

Lex Robinson: God, we'll see you next month at Lust.

Steve Hebert: Wait, what about Impulse?

Lex Robinson: No Impulse. Next month is Lust... the first-ever Sin Wrestling single-man elimination tournament for the first of the "Seven-Sins" championships.

Steve Hebert: Well fuck; I should throw my name into the hat.

Lex Robinson: At this rate, after what has happened tonight, I have no idea what's going to happen. And why did Nikita help Mike Phantasy?! I'll... ugh... see you, folks.

[The final shot is that of the number "2" written on Raziel's back. The camera then fades up, showing Mike Phantasy holding the black marker in one hand and the World Title shot contract in the other.]

Winner: Mike Phantasy (World Title shot); Nikita (Platinum Title)