Andrew Gibson, meanwhile, could do nothing; he could only watch as Adam Kage hits his trademark move, The Kaged Impact, on Michael Extremer, while Tony Star picks him up and delivers the Five Star Slams without remorse.

They both cover him, happy to get the victory. Especially Tony, who is just returning from a minor injury.

Voice: FUCK YOU!

Voice #2: NO, FUCK YOU!

[Startled, Corey stands in his spot, afraid to turn the corner, thanks to the ruckus which is being made. After a loud crash, he jumps out of his spot and hustle around the edge, looking at the carnage that is being created, which several SW officials and referees are trying to stop.]

Chris Extreme: Fuck you, you gay, I'll cut off your cock and shove it down your throat.

Zimdela Brudon: And I'll cut off yours and stuff it down my throat, you little whore.

Chris Extreme: Don't you...

Zimdela Brudon: And how do you like that hickey I gave you...

Chris Extreme: Agh! Why you...

[Chris goes to make another stride at Zimdela, but he is held back by the officials, including Corey Page, who is now on the scene.]

Corey Page: Jesus tapdancing Chris eating a marshmallow, what's going on here?!

Chris Extreme: He started it! Look what he did to me!

[Chris points to the hickey on his neck.]

Zimdela Brudon: You liked it, didn't you, you little bitch.

Chris Extreme: No, fuck you. I'll like taking that World Title from around your waist and jerking off onto it, though. Yeah, that's right; I'll spread my Nazi-cum all over that title.

Zimdela Brudon: Not if I can jerk you off first.

[Stunned, Chris stops, quite angered and confused as to what to say.]

Chris Extreme: ...

[...]

Chris Extreme: Fuck you!

[He goes to make another run at Zimdela, but Corey Page steps in between the two of them, pushing them both apart.]

Corey Page: Jesus, stop. This is the eve of my birthday! We should all be celebrating! Can't we all just get along? Can't we?!

[Corey looks at both men.]

Chris Extreme: ...No.

[Just then, Chris tries to burst free, but yet again, Corey holds him back.]

Corey Page: [sigh] This wouldn't have happened if Betsy were here. Speaking of her, where is that damn goat?!

[Realizing something, Zimdela's eyes sink back into his skull. Sneering at Chris, he goes to walk away.]

Zimdela Brudon: Uh... anyhow, Chris Extreme, you'll get yours tonight. I have some special... "plans" for you.

Chris Extreme: Yeah, and I have some special "plans" of my own.

[Both men are eventually taken far apart, leaving Corey standing with an awkward look on his face.]

Corey Page: ...You do?

Chris Extreme: Shut the fuck up.

[And with that, Chris walks off, leaving Corey puzzled.]

Corey Page: Hmm... should I get white cake or chocolate cake? ...Ah, fuck that; I'll just go with an ice cream cake.

[...Errr... maybe he's not puzzled. Anyhow, on with the show!]

["The Kid Is Hot Tonight" by Loverboy hits.]

Lex Robinson: Well, I guess we're not going to waste a second getting into this!

Steve Hebert: Ugh.. [disgusted, Steve removes a KFC bucket from beneath the table and starts chowing down]

Slash Tannon walks out with his hands raised into the air.

[Steve Hebert pukes the chicken back up.]

Lex Robinson: That is absolutely disgusting.

[Hebert proceeds to lick the vomited chicken into his mouth and swallows.]

Lex Robinson: ...

Steve Hebert: I'll be damned if I let that nasty asshole ruin my meal!

[Stepping out at the top of the entrance, he keeps an eye on the ring, as he walks straight to the ringside area. Walking up the steps and over the middle rope, he throws his arms in the air, while a shower of fire erupts from the ring posts, diagonally.]

Steve Hebert: ...that was sure flamerish. You'd think his name was Flame!

Lex Robinson: I really miss him. :(

Steve Hebert: I sure as your tiny cock don't.

Steve Hebert: But I sure as my hairy French-Canadian cock DO miss this guy!

Lex Robinson: Good Lord..

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

Steve Hebert: What a sexy, sexy entrance.

Lex Robinson: It's a good song.

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

Steve Hebert: I'm touching myself right now, so it's a good thing for this fog rolling in.

Lex Robinson: ...that's not yourself.

Steve Hebert: Oh, shit, I knew it was too small to be me! Sorry, Lex.

Lex Robinson: .......it's not me, either.

Steve Hebert: What the god?

Dick Morosi: I want to taste you.

[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.]

Steve Hebert: Yeah, just keep your eyes on the ring and that loser Slash Tannon, Mike! Don't let these idiots distract you.

Lex Robinson: Quit being rude to our fans. Without them, you'd have no income.

[Mike Phantasy finally makes his way into the ring, where he immediately begins taunting Slash Tannon.]

Steve Hebert: Pfffft @ Slash Tannon, too!

Lex Robinson: That was quite possibly the most retarded thing you've ever said.

Steve Hebert: I concur. [goes back to his KFC]

[Having had enough, Tannon springs forward, laying a haymaker right across Phantasy's face. Taken by surprise, Phantasy goes reeling, his back striking the ropes. Tannon wastes no time, grabbing hold of Phantasy's wrist and sending him across the ring with an Irish whip. Bending forward, Tannon awaits Phantasy's return, preparing for a back drop. However, Phantasy manages to counter the attempt, lifting a stiff foot into Tannon's upper chest. A loud crack is heard as Tannon stumbles away, nursing his aching pec.]

Steve Hebert: Oh fuck, yes, he cracked a rib!

Lex Robinson: Let's hope not, you sick, fat fuck.

[Quickly moving into position, Phantasy grabs Tannon from behind, placing his head under Tannon's left arm. Soon lifting Tannon up into the air, Phantasy successfully hits a belly to back suplex, going so far as to bridge for the pin.]

Steve Hebert: MIKE PHANTASY WITH THE WIN!!!

Lex Robinson: Or not.

Steve Hebert: Come on, ref! Count faster.

[No sooner does the referee's hand touch the mat for the count of two, does Slash Tannon kick his way out of the bridge. Both men reach their feet at about the same time, locking right up. Mike Phantasy manages to come out on top, applying a side headlock on his opponent. However, following a few well-placed elbows to Phantasy's body, Tannon is able to heave Phantasy off of him, sending him into the ropes. Following just behind Phantasy, Tannon soon clotheslines Phantasy out of the ring.]

Lex Robinson: Slash Tannon overpowering Mike Phantasy and sending him outside! Now who has a cracked rib, Steve?

Steve Hebert: Huh? [chewing on the empty bucket of KFC] I must have missed it. Darn it!

[With the fans cheering wildly, Tannon drops down to ringside. There, he lays a few vicious boots into his former stablemate's leg, preventing him from standing.]

Steve Hebert: Now that I did not miss. [swallowing the last of the bucket] What a goddamned cheater, is Tannon.

Lex Robinson: I'm sure Mike would do the same....but probably worse.

Steve Hebert: Yeah, but see, there's a difference: no one gives a shit about Slash Tannon. Am I right or am I right?

Colonel Sanders' Ghost: You are right, my son.

Steve Hebert: Thanks, dad.

[Forcing Mike Phantasy up to his feet, Tannon whips him into the steel ring steps. Phantasy's back arches as he smashes into the steps full force. Slash Tannon smiles widely, taking in the support of the audience.]

Steve Hebert: Look at this guy. He's actually taking pride in bending the rules to hurt poor Mike Phantasy! Absolutely horrendous.

[Following warnings from the ref, Tannon rolls Phantasy back inside the ring.]

Lex Robinson: But so much for him being a cheater, right, Steve?

Steve Hebert: Sorry. [devouring a pile of chicken bones smothered in honey and lard] Wasn't paying attention again. My bad.

[s Phantasy lays on his back in the ring, Tannon crawls up onto the apron, and then scales the turnbuckles. Atop the highest turnbuckle, Tannon stares out at the audience, sending them into their loudest uproar of this match yet.]

Steve Hebert: CHOKE CHOKE CHOKE CHOKE!!!!!!

Lex Robinson: Well, that's not very nice.

Steve Hebert: What? I'm literally choking on these fucking bones.

Lex Robinson: Oh.

[Tannon flips backwards, sailing through the air quite nicely for a man his size, in what appears to be an Asai moonsault -- one that doesn't exactly connect, that is.]

Steve Hebert: JK LOL I WANTED HIM TO CHOKE AND HE DID!!!!!! [Steve really does choke on his chicken bones and dies]

Lex Robinson: Fucking yes, finally!

Colonel Sanders' Ghost: Not quite. [Sanders' Ghost revives Steve]

Steve Hebert: GOD YES MIKE PHANTASY 4 LIFE!!!!!

[Having rolled out of the way just in time, Mike Phantasy gets to his feet, anger written all over his face over Tannon's treatment of him outside the ring. Taking hold of Slash Tannon's leg, Phantasy drags him to the center of the ring. From there, Phantasy proceeds to apply an ankle lock, wrenching away at Tannon's ankle with all his might.]

Steve Hebert: That's it. Time to tap.

[The ref checks in on Tannon, asking if he gives up, but to the excitement of the fans, Tannon refuses. Instead, he continues screaming and clawing at the mat, trying his best to crawl to the ropes.]

Lex Robinson: Slash Tannon won't give up! What a fighter.

Steve Hebert: Fuck fighting. He's crying like a little bitch! Look at him. Just tap, Slash, tap!

[Nearing the ropes, Tannon throws his arm out as far as he can manage, but falls just a little short. His hands held over his head, trying to block out the pain, Tannon prepares himself for another attempt at escape.]

Steve Hebert: YOU CAN'T DO IT, SLASH! GIVE IN TO YOUR PAIN!

[Mustering up all of his strength, Slash Tannon throws his body forward, this time managing to grab the ropes.]

Steve Hebert: Well, then!

Lex Robinson: Well, then is right...just what the hell does Mike Phantasy think he's doing now?

[The ref yells at Phantasy, demanding he break the hold, but Mike Phantasy completely ignores him, keeping it locked well in place.]

Steve Hebert: Breaking it off, hopefully.

[Not willing to end the match so quickly, the ref tries to rip Phantasy's hands off of Tannon's ankle -- and does. Annoyed, Phantasy shoves the ref, knocking him flat on his back. As if on speed, the referee leaps right back up, getting in Phantasy's face and threatening to ring the bell; Phantasy just laughs.]

Steve Hebert: And we are all laughing with you, Mike Phantasy.

Lex Robinson: If by laughing you mean ready to murder his firstborn, then sure, yeah, yep, we are.

Steve Hebert: I haven't seen this side of you, Lex. It's tres sexy.

Lex Robinson: And you never will again.

[His attention back on Slash Tannon, Mike Phantasy pulls the former Alliance of Violence member up to his feet. Whipping him across the ring, Phantasy soon lifts his leg into Tannon's rebounding body, causing him to flip over and land on his back, via a kitchen sink.]

Steve Hebert: And now he has a broken back to go with his shattered ribs. Phantasy is such a giver.

Lex Robinson: You would know.

Steve Hebert: Would I ever. ;)

[After dropping an elbow across Tannon's sternum, Phantasy points to the corner. Almost instantly, the crowd erupts into a chorus of booing, knowing what's next.]

Lex Robinson: It's almost like they know what's next.

Steve Hebert: Don't they?

Lex Robinson: Well, true.

[Taking his sweet old time, Phantasy ascends the turnbuckles, parking himself up top. The crowd chants for Tannon, but this seems useless, as Phantasy sails through the air and successfully connects with his version of the shooting star leg drop, Phantasy Calling.]

Steve Hebert: See, Slash, that's how you do it.

Lex Robinson: This is bad. Really, really bad. Where's divine intervention when you need it?

Steve Hebert: Already made an interference in this match.

[The crowd roars all around the ring, while Mike Phantasy locks his vision on Slash Tannon. Tannon ever-so-slowly climbs to his feet, turning around just in time to see Phantasy moving toward him at lightning speed. His foot snapping into the air, Phantasy thrusts a Phantasize directly at Tannon's jaw.]

Steve Hebert: !

[And misses.]

Lex Robinson: [mocking Steve] That's how you do it, Slash! That's how you do it!

[Before Phantasy even has time to realize what has happened, Tannon lifts him up onto his shoulders, A second later, Phantasy's cranium is buried deep in the mat, a la Tannon's Total Impact Driver. Tannon goes right for the cover.]

Steve Hebert: God, no, this can't be happening!

Lex Robinson: Yes!!!! The three!!!!! Slash Tannon takes his contract home!!!!!!!

Steve Hebert: ...uh.....

[Just barely, Phantasy is able to lay his foot across the nearby ropes. However, Tannon believes he has made the pin and rises up, throwing his arms in the air in celebration. The ref follows after Tannon, trying to tell him what has really happened, but Tannon is so caught up in his pseudovictory that he doesn't hear a thing.]

Steve Hebert: Hahahaha. This has to go down as one of the funniest moments in SW history, right up there with the death of Mike Hall.

Lex Robinson: Disgusting.

[Meanwhile, Mike Phantasy uses the ropes to help him up to his feet. From there, Phantasy surveys the situation, noticing that Tannon's back is to him -- and the referee is on the other side of him, trying to explain that Phantasy broke the count. Smirking, Phantasy rushes in, hitting a nasty lowblow that catches Tannon totally offguard.]

Steve Hebert: ....and that just tops both of those previous funniest moments! [Dumbfounded and in a whole lot of pain, Slash Tannon turns around, seconds before an echoing smack is heard. Tannon goes down hard, thanks to a Phantasize from none other than Mike Phantasy. Phantasy covers.]

Steve Hebert: And topped again!

Steve Hebert: And again and again and again!!!!

[And picks up the victory.]

Lex Robinson: Fucking horrible.

Steve Hebert: What a great victory for Mike Phantasy! Slash Tannon does not get his contract back!

Lex Robinson: Yes; but now what?

Steve Hebert: Huh?

Lex Robinson: Mike has the microphone and is standing directly across from Slash Tannon, is laying against the corner turnbuckle pads.

[Bringing the microphone up to his mouth, Mike smiles, while speaking.]

Mike Phantasy: I'm going to make this short and sweet...

[The contract is handed to him, which he holds into the air. Using both of his hands, he immediately tears it into two parts.]

Mike Phantasy: Fuck you, Slash; fuck you! I told you that I own you and it's true. Tonight, I proved that I really am better than you. If you want to become who you once were, you'll have to earn it...

[Looking around at the fans, Mike Phantasy smirks, soon focusing his attention back on Slash Tannon.]

Mike Phantasy: What do I mean? I mean... "Welcome to the ring crew, Slash! You're back to the bottom of the barrel!"

Lex Robinson: What the hell..?!

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy just demoted Slash Tannon to a ring crew worker!

Lex Robinson: Can he even do that?!

Steve Hebert: Who cares? Just as long as Slash is humiliated, I'm happy. Now get me more chicken.

Mike Phantasy: Now excuse me, I've got to get ready to win an Ultraviolence Title.

[Throwing down the microphone, Mike cockily walks to the back, while Slash is left in the ring, looking down at his torn contract.]

Steve Hebert: Slash had better get used to feeling like scum -- ah, what am I saying? He is scum!

[Fade out.]

Sean Graves: Heather, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?

Heather Halliwell: Drop the act, Sean. I was just seeing how you were doing before your match. I know how much on edge you've been about it.

Sean Graves: Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'm pretty sure I got it in the bag. With a partner like Hecate, how can I lose.

[He chuckles.]

Heather Halliwell: Yeah, well, I hope you understand why I couldn't let you use my book to help. I wanted you to win this match on your own or with Hecate's help. That book... You don't need it.

Sean Graves: I know and I'm glad you have as much faith in me as you do. Trust me, I won't disappoint you.

Heather Halliwell: You could never disappoint me Sean. Anyways, I can't stay and chat with you for too long. I have a date with Gwenivere right now.

Sean Graves: Give her hell.

Heather Halliwell: No promises.

[Heather smiles at Sean before turning around and walking out of the locker room. The moment Heather is gone, Sean pulls the piece of paper out and starts reading it again.]

Lex Robinson: Heather Halliwell is making her way to the ringside area. Remember last week, she was another victim of Gwenivere Jordan, who made her return a few weeks ago.

Steve Hebert: And damn, my Gwenny has been pissed, hasn't she? I thought that vacation would do her good; but I guess not!

Lex Robinson: Maybe she's just PMSing.

Steve Hebert: Hell no, I doubt that.

[As the first riff of the former Dimebag Darrell of Damageplan, purple and black flames erupt along the ramp and stage. The second main riff hits and more flames erupt, pluming into the air of the arena. This is repeated seven times before the silhouette of Gwenivere Jordan can be seen through the flames, accented by a white spotlight behind her.]

Steve Hebert: There she is; my Gwenny-poo!

[Both female competitors are in the ring ready to do battle. Gwenivere Jordan is seemingly trying to burn a hole through Heather Halliwell’s head. Heather responds by rushing Gwenivere and trying for a clothesline. Gwenivere ducks as Heather bounces off the ropes and grabs Gwenivere by the hair and slams her face down into the mat via bulldog.]

Steve Hebert: Damnit! Damnit it all to hell!

Lex Robinson: What? Are you upset that Gwenivere Jordan just got her face smashed?

Steve Hebert: Who and what now?

Lex Robinson: Heather Halliwell and Gwenivere Jordan…Wrestling…Two women rolling around in the ring…

Steve Hebert: And you didn’t tell me?!

[Steve throws some portable gaming system over his shoulder into the fans and stares into the ring. Lex Robinson smacks his forehead in duisgust.]

Lex Robinson: Why do I even bother anymore?

Steve Hebert: For the free booze, gorgeous women, and did I mention the six figure salary?

Lex Robinson: Ahhhh.

[Gwenivere Jordan has gotten to her hands and knees. As she is ready to get up Heather flies through the air hitting a well placed elbow off the tope rope into Gwenivere’s lower back. She howls in pain as Heather helps her up. Heather then whips Gwenivere into the turnbuckle. Heather quickly follows up her attack with a clothesline.]

Steve Herbert: Oh god! The mounting has begun! YES!

Lex Robinson: Yes, that is right, Steve. Heather has gotten on the second ropes and begun to pound away on the face of Gwenivere Jordan.

[The crowd chants with each hard right shot…1…2…3…4…5…6…7]

Lex Robinson: What is this?

Steve Hebert: Maybe Gwenny wants to be on top?

Lex Robinson: Doubtful—But still likely.

[Gwenivere was able to regain herself just enough to drop to a seated position and push Heather’s feet up and over the top rope. A sickening crash is heard as Heather tumbles on the steel steps below. Gwenivere Jordan slides out of the ring and grabs Heather by hair as she tries to pick herself up. A loud bitchslap is heard and some words of trash talk before Gwenivere slams Heather’s face into the steel steps not once, not twice, but a gut-wrenching three times.]

Lex Robinson: It looks like Gwenivere has found the aggressiveness since her return.

Steve Hebert: Aggressiveness? That isn’t aggressiveness! That is just…

Lex Robinson: Sick?

Steve Hebert: Nah.

Lex Robinson: Sadistic?

Steve Hebert: In a way, but no.

Lex Robinson: Then what?

Steve Hebert: Making me want the bitch more and more!

[Heather brings her face up and blood is already seen flowing from a deep cut in her forehead. Gwenivere goes and gets a good distance between her and Heather and begins to run at Heather. Heather looks up just in time to see Gwenivere jump into the air looking to hit an elbow. Instead Heather leaps up and grabs Gwenivere hitting a back breaker onto the steel. Both wrestlers are laying on the floor as the referee has no choice, but to start the count.]

Lex Robinson: These two women are pulling out all the stops to beat one another. Heather has scouted Gwenivere and knows her Achilles’ Heal…Her lower back.

Steve Hebert: Heather is slowly getting up and picks up Gwenivere as well. Shoving her in the ring Heather stands on the apron.

Lex Robinson: Gwenivere is coming to her feet and Heather is sizing her up. She could be lining up Gwenivere for a modified version of Southern Glory.

Steve Hebert: They why isn’t she moving?

[As Heather went to leap to the top rope from the ring apron she was stopped and pulled back down. Draco and Casanova had appeared from nowhere and stopped her from putting Gwenivere down. This gave Gwenivere enough time to recover and rush at her opponent. Gwenivere gave Heather’s legs a brutal kick and sent her face first into the apron. Draco and Casanova applaud their stablemates efforts as they stand back ready to aide again if need be.]

Lex Robinson: Why do the bad guys always have to cheat to win?

Steve Hebert: I may be going out on a limp here, but they are bad guys right?

Lex Robinson: Yes.

Steve Hebert: That could be it right there.

[Coming down from the stage is Tyger Lilly and Sean Graves. Draco and Casanova are not aware of their presence. They two get a sneak attack on the tag team. Draco is tackled up and over the security guard rail. Lilly gives Casanova a quick kick that sends him reeling. The action continues in the ring as well. Gwenivere had brought Heather back into the ring and grabs her head and lifted up. Gwenivere held her for a few seconds and then dropped to a seated position hitting a brain buster.]

Lex Robinson: Gwenivere seemed to injure herself just as much as Heather on that one.

Steve Hebert: She dropped Heather on her head. Injure isn’t the word. It is more like decapitate.

[Draco and Casanova have begun to fight back on Tyger Lilly and Sean Graves. The two teams have battled to the upper levels and eventually disappear into one of the corridors. Gwenivere finally gets up and flops an arm over Heather.]

Steve Hebert: And three! Gwenivere wins again!

Lex Robinson: Nope! Heather just kicked out at the last second.

[Gwenivere Jordan shakes her head as she gets to her feet slowly. She picks up Heather and degrades her with some trash talking. Heather stumbles a bit and Gwenivere goes to level her with a clothesline, but Heather ducks. She was playing possum. Heather jumps up hitting a shining wizard to the back of Gwenivere’s head. Heather takes her opportunity and gets Gwenivere in a Boston crab.]

Steve Hebert: This is almost as good as Naughty Nurses 9.

Lex Robinson: Doesn’t the blood turn you off at all?

Steve Hebert: Come to think of it…No, not at all.

Lex Robison: Oh great. You have been watching too much Casanova.

[Gwenivere reaches for the ropes as she screams in pain. Her lower back taking most of the pressure of this submission hold. Heather pulls back and applies more pressure. Gwenivere tries to move, but she is locked in the center of the ring. Gwenivere won’t tap out and continues to fight. Her clawing and flailing hands soon fade. She lies there and Heather sees this over her shoulder. She lets go of her hold and lets Gwenivere Jordan lay there barely conscious from pain.]

Lex Robinson: And Heather is climbing up to the top rope.

Steve Hebert: This can’t be happening!

Lex Robinson: Everyone loses sometime, Steve.

Steve Hebert: A half passed out Gwenivere and I am not near her taking advantage.

Lex Robinson: And how did I get paired with you.

Steve Hebert: Let’s just say I did some favors.

[Heather climbs the top rope with her back facing the ring. She leaps into the air flipping backwards and hitting a moonsault, or better known to her as Southern Glory. She executes the move so that Gwenivere’s lower back takes the force.]

Lex Robinson: We have a pin here! One, Two, And

Steve Hebert: And the mistress of Sin kicks out! Gwenivere is still in this one!

[Heather picks herself up wiping blood from her face. She is shocked Gwenivere is taking this much punishment. She goes up to the top rope once more to hit her finisher move once more. Gwenivere gets to her feet and knocks Heather down to a sitting position on the ropes. Gwenivere goes to the top rope standing with Heather. She locks her hands around Heather’s waist and falls backwards hitting a release German suplex. Heather is thrown down quickly landing on the back of her head. Gwenivere locked her legs on the ropes and is breathing heavily upside down looking at her lifeless opponent.]

Lex Robinson: Mother of God!

Steve Hebert: Holy shit!

[Indeed even the announcers were shocked at the move that just occurred. Gwenivere slowly picked herself back up to a standing position on the top rope. She leaps off hitting her own moonsault with that much-added kick, or The French Kiss. She lands on Heather’s chest and goes for the pin. As she holds Heather down Gwenivere licks from her cheek to her forehead tasting the blood.]

Lex Robinson: ONE!

Steve Hebert: TWO!

Lex Robinson/Steve Hebert: [un unison] THREE!

Lex Robinson: A hard ending to a hard battle. Gwenivere pulling out the win over the new comer Heather.

Steve Hebert: What my partner meant to say was…Tits and violence, do you need more?

REGAN CHAMBERS

THE REAL CARTOON HERO

Now playing on BergTV

Ace Rodgers: Awww. He better destroy the bad guys.

[An impending doom comes over Ace, as a large shadow looms over his shoulder. Gulping loudly, his head hoists up and he turns around, seeing none other than David Nistiero standing behind him, listening and watching intently to the promo for Regan's new show, which is now playing on BergTV, the new television station of a Sin Wrestling investor. Upon seeing David, Ace's smile withers and David grabs him by the collar, not saying a word.]

Ace Rodgers: I... uh... I...

[Still nothing.]

Ace Rodgers: ...

[Silently, David flings Ace back, slapping the miniature television set out of his hands. Looking blank, Ace can only watch with a gaping maw as David's left foot walks on the TV, smashing it into pieces. Still not saying a word, David tiptoes away, leaving Ace to whine over his broken television.]

Ace Rodgers: That... that... that was 500 dollars!

[If you listen closely, you can hear the promo one last time...]

Lex Robinson: Here he comes, the one, the only, Nick Nitro!

Steve Hebert: Who?

Lex Robinson: Nick Nitro...

Steve Hebert: Oh yeah, him.

Lex Robinson: What did you forget who he was?

Steve Hebert: ...

Lex Robinson: Well...?

Steve Hebert: He hasnt done ANYTHING lately! C'mon, give me a break.

Lex Robinson: Very true. Very, very true.

Steve Hebert: Yeah, I kinda owned you.

[See this? This is where the lights go down to black. And they stay that way, too; long enough for the smart asses in the crowd to start screaming and generally acting stupid. Then the PA system kicks into gear.]

[As Drowning Pool's "Bodies" kicks into gear, a blue strobe hits the top of the ramp, dancing across the curtain.]

[A very threatening silhouette appears behind the curtain, dark and imposing.]

[The silhouette stays motionless, completely, as if there is nothing behind it.]

[The Force of Supremacy, Krispin Koon, steps onto the ramp with a cheshire-like cat smiles expanded across the mouth.]

[Krispin Koon slowly makes his way down the ramp, his inaction more than enough to intimidate the weaker folks in the business. But he’s not going for that now, he knows it doesn’t work. He keeps it up, until he gets to the ring, sliding in.]

Lex Robinson: Wow, and here is Krispin Koon. He is an interesting fellow.

Steve Hebert: [sneese] What did you say?

Lex Robinson: Nevermind. And the final member of our triple threat tonight...

Steve Hebert: Perfection has arrived!

Lex Robinson: Hmm?

Steve Hebert: Just a little foreshadowing, Lex.

[Those words appear on the SW-screen and the lights in the arena blackout. Soon, a green spotlight begins searching throughout the arena, with the fans begin to boo. The spotlight goes faster and faster, the guitar rift can be heard, the spotlight gets even faster, and then the opening of "Tear Away" By Drowning Pool begins to blare out. The spotlight stops on the entrance way, while the rest of the lights stay down and the jeering becoming louder.]

[On the apron, Gary turns around and poses for the fans before leaping over the top rope and landing on his feet. Mac then takes of his t-shirt and climbs the nearest turnbuckle, where he poses once last time before throwing the shirt into the crowd. Jumping down, he spins around and looks Raynman.]

Lex Robinson: I really don't know what to make of this guy. I mean, he's such a... I don't know... a tool!

Steve Hebert: What are you talking about? This guy is great. He beats people up. Get money for it and so on. God love him.

Lex Robinson: In any event, we are about to begin the match here...

Steve Hebert: Atleast we'll get this borefest over already.

[Before the bell can ring, however; AC/DC's "Hell's Bells" hit's the PA system. David Nistiero walks out with a chair in hand as he slowly lurches towards the ring, looking as pissed-off, as usual.]

Lex Robinson: What the hell is he doing here? His match isn't yet! It's up next... but not now!

Steve Hebert: Shut the hell up! Something actually half-decent may come out of this match now!

[Crawling up onto the apron, he steps in over the top rope, only to be attacked by the other three men right off the bat. Together, they look to give him a tough beating, but Nistiero has other plans.]

CRACK!

Lex Robinson: There goes the chair into Gary Mac's skull!

CRACK!

Lex Robinson: And one for Krispin Koon!

CRACK!

Steve Hebert: Hey, one for that moron, Nick Nitro, too. What a great match! Five-out-of-five stars, definitely!

Lex Robinson: Are you serious?!

Steve Hebert: God yes. Besides, Nistiero is obviously pissed!

Lex Robinson: What a fucking joke! This wasn't even David's match! Someone get him out of here.

Steve Hebert: Shut up. Look in the ring. Nistiero has the mic.

[Nistiero stares long and hard at the entrance as he throws the chair out of the ring.]

Steve Hebert: You know, this is just like Blood Bath, where David literally destroyed Nick Nitro and that other guy... you know... what's his face.

Lex Robinson: Mark Hayes.

Steve Hebert: Yes! Him! This is just like then! And remember what happened on that night? David obliterated Regan Chambers, that's what!

Lex Robinson: Pfft. He caught Regan off-guard, while Regan was just a casual fan, who was watching the show unfold.

Steve Hebert: Serves him right, anyhow. No one should be allowed to watch this show and enjoy it!

Lex Robinson: Uhm...

David Nistiero: Regan Chambers...

[The fans start a "David Sucks" chant, no doubt aggravating the large man.]

David Nistiero: Regan Chambers! Get your ass out here, right now! No time like the present for our match, don't ya think?

Lex Robinson: He is calling Chambers out!

Steve Hebert: It is just like Blood Bath! Hell, if Chambers had a brain, he will already be on the first bus outta here.

Lex Robinson: That's not bloody likely to happen.

Steve Hebert: Did you just say "Bloody"?! I think you've been hanging around with Regan Chambers far too much. Good Christ...

REGAN CHAMBERS

THE REAL CARTOON HERO

Now playing on BergTV

["The Art of American Football" by Funeral For A Friend plays over the speakers and a large blue and red X sparks up from the entranceway. In the meantime, the lights dim to complete darkness and when they turn back on, they show a revved-up, ready to go Regan Chambers NOT standing on the top turnbuckle. Instead, Regan is shown standing behind David Nistiero, holding a steel chair of his own in his hands.]

Steve Hebert: Oh, what the hell? Regan Chambers -- the real cartoon hero? And what the Jesus is BergTV?

Lex Robinson: Um, I don't know. What I do know is that David's going to get beaten like... like...

Steve Hebert: Like something that gets beaten a lot; i.e. Lex when he was a little kid!

Lex Robinson: Hey!

Steve Hebert: David better turn the hell around and kick that idiot in the face! God, look out!

Lex Robinson: The bell rings and here we go! Regan smashes the chair off David's back, catching him off-guard!

Steve Hebert: Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous!

Lex Robinson: It's no-DQ, so it all goes. Chambers is obviously trying to take the bigger man down a bit.

Steve Hebert: In that case, I hope David Nistiero retorts by taking Regan Chambers down, throwing him through the ground.

Lex Robinson: At this point, who knows. Regan just blinded Nistiero with a lightning quick flying forearm shot, knocking the wits out of Nistiero, who has no idea of what has just happened, due to that lightning blitz attack of Regan Chambers! Speaking of which, Chambers is now back to his feet, grabbing David by the hair as he rises.

Steve Hebert: Uh ohs.

[Bouncing off the ropes, Regan storms back with a tremendous spin wheel kick, catching David directly in the mouth, knocking him flat on his back. Kicking up to his feet, he immediately rolls out to the floor, where he begins searching underneath the ring for some plunder.]

Steve Hebert: Now what's that troublemaker doing?

Lex Robinson: Uh... let me remind you that it was David who grabbed Regan and threw him over the rail a few months ago.

Steve Hebert: So?!

Lex Robinson: Then I believe you have your concepts screwed up.

Steve Hebert: Ah, I know what that bastard is doing -- he's searching for a weapon! How disgraceful!

Lex Robinson: ...This is a no-disqualification match.

Steve Hebert: I don't care!

Lex Robinson: Chambers comes out from underneath the ring with a chair in his hands; having a sadistic look on his face.

Steve Hebert: For some reason I dont think this is going to be Nistiero's night.

Lex Robinson: Hah, neither do I! Chambers getting back into the ring now, as Nistiero makes his way back to his feet.

[Just as David Nistiero turns around, he is met with a brutal chairshot from Regan Chambers. Oddly enough, David remains standing.]

Lex Robinson: What a sickening chairshot!

Steve Hebert: For crying out loud, Goku is going for another one, too!

Lex Robinson: Goku?!

[Bang! A second sick thud is head as the chair smashes against David's skull for the second time in a row.]

Lex Robinson: And again...!

[Bam! Three times in a row, the chair has collided against David's head; but yet he remains standing.]

Steve Hebert: David Nistiero is a goddamn monster. How he is still standing is beyond me. Jesus, he should be dead or something by now.

Lex Robinson: Just looking at his forehead, it's evident that he should be down and out now... but he's not!

Steve Hebert: Obviously.

Lex Robinson: He is playing lumberjack, just waiting for the tree to fall! Chambers with more chair shots. Numbers four... five... six... seven... eight... he's unloading on David's head!

Steve Hebert: ...and now number nine. What the heck?! David Nistiero is on his knees!

Lex Robinson: Number ten officially knocks him on his back! Finally!

[Now with David completely knocked unconscious, Regan throws the chair down, watching it skitter under the bottom rope and land on the floor. Turning around, he faces the corner and looks into the crowd for approval. Climbing up, rope by rope, he gets to the top turnbuckle, stands straight up, and leaps off...]

Lex Robinson: Regan's contorting his body throughout the air!

Steve Hebert: Oh shit. David needs to summon the strength of ten Zimdelas!

Lex Robinson: ...And he lands with The Eclipse! David Nistiero's leg is hooked...!

Lex Robinson: ...Three! THere's the three!

Steve Hebert: Ugh. I can't believe it.

Lex Robinson: I believe it. Regan Chambers has finally gotten his redemption. It's about damn time, too.

Steve Hebert: God, I hate the world sometimes, Lex. You know that?

Lex Robinson: We all do, Steve; we all do.

[Standing above his fallen opponent, Regan hoists his arms into the arm, thankful of his glorious and dominant victory. Hopping out of the ring, he expresses his content feelings by slapping the hands of several fans.]

Lex Robinson: Sean Graves has arrived!

Steve Hebert: That means it's time for the number one contender's match to the Tag Team Titles. Man, I thought those were no more.

Lex Robinson: Not quite. They've just been monopolized by Kiss and Tell and the rest of the Sentinels of Insanity.

[The lights flicker on and off quickly and some pyro ignites in each of the turnbuckles. Nine Inch Nails' "Down In It' commences to play over the loud speaker; the words going through the air...]

[As the chorus ends and the song continues, photo stills of Hecate are shown on the SW-screen. Throughout the arena, blue and green lights flicker as Hecate eventually walks out with a smirk on her face, holding Flame on her arm. Looking around, she pulls Flame close, giving him a hard kiss, which she follows by pulling herself away and walks to the ringside area, alone, while Flame returns to the backstage area. Sliding in, she looks around, licking her lips as she runs her hands from her thighs up her stomach, to her chest, until her arms are in the air; waving them at her opponent to "bring it on." Nodding her head and blowing kisses, she turns around to face her opponent and the music fades out.]

Steve Hebert: Yes, they've held those titles since when? January?

Lex Robinson: Around that time, yup. However, Hecate is making her way out, currently.

Steve Hebert: Fuck that bitch. She needs to go get raped... again.

[The lights of the arena fade down to faint white spotlights only on the stage, as smoke fills the stage, while “Bring Her Down (to Crippletown) by Rob Zombie begins to play. Letters begin to type across the screen, while the song intro plays.]

If this is what they do to each other…

[Behind the typed letters, a video clip plays, showing Casanova swinging a cowbell upward in an uppercut straight into Draco’s jaw, just as Draco swings a chair overhead straight down onto Casanova’s forehead, leaving both men almost unconscious and twitching on the mat. The letters disappear with the video fading out to black, as more letters type across the screen.]

…imagine what they’ll do to you.

[Crushing guitars break into the synthesizer intro, as “The Hellacious One” Draco appears on stage, stepping through the smoke while strobe lights erupt throughout the arena. As he steps toward the stage, an uproar starts in the crowd, a spotlight finally focusing on the disturbance, which is “The Vampiric One” Casanova stepping through the crowd on his way to the stage. He leaps the guardrail, as Draco reaches the ring, the two climbing opposite turnbuckles, glaring over the crowd as if predators looking for prey. Finally the two descend, stepping to one corner, and awaiting their opponents.]

Lex Robinson: Former Tag Team Champions -- and World Champions -- Draco and Casanova are here now!

Steve Hebert: I noticed. It's obvious that these are the forerunners to walk out of this match; everyone knows it. Look at the facts. Hecate and Sean Graves were thrown together at the last minute by Corey "Vomit On Me" Page. Tony Millennia and Chris Barker, meanwhile, have just recently joined together. And goddamnit, they're constantly beating on each other for their own amusement!

Lex Robinson: I can definitely see what you're saying.

[A sudden howl breaks the silence throughout the arena as a wolf under a purple sky and a full moon appears on the SW-screen. The the familiar tune of Rammstein's "Du Reichst So Gut" begins blaring over the PA and it is then that the man known as "The Wolfman" Chris Barker walks out of the back with his forearms and hands taped and his athletic pants on, raising a fist to the crowd as he makes his way down to the ring, ignoring the boos that they give him. Walking out behind him is Tony Millennia, the number one contender to Draco's Television Title. Slowly, the duo get into the ring, where they stare down their competitors.]

Lex Robinson: And we are ready for our number one contendership match to the SW World Tag Team Championships!

[The bell rings for the start of the match.]

Lex Robinson: We are about to start here. The first two in the ring are Draco and Tony, who waste no time in staring each other down.

Steve Hebert: Don't worry, Draco has it easy... Millennia stands no chance.

Lex Robinson: We will see soon as the action gets underway!

[Draco and Tony circle each other, finally locking up in the center of the ring. Starting things off, Draco applies a standing arm-lock on Tony, who grits his teeth in pain. With an Irish-whip, Draco sends Tony into the ropes, causing him to bounce back out. Jutting his shoulder forward, both men collide and Draco is the one who crashes to the mat.]

Lex Robinson: Tony with a shoulderblock of his own!

Steve Hebert: It was mediocre at best. If it were me, I'd have put some more strength and weight behind it.

Lex Robinson: By the looks of it, then you would have killed Draco.

[Tony pushes Draco back into the corner, sending spine crashing into the turnbuckle. Throwing some nasty forearms to the face of Draco in the corner, bouncing his head back and forth, Tony looks over at Chris Barker and tags out to him.]

Lex Robinson: Here comes Chris Barker to take over for Millennia. Entering the ring, he he strikes Draco with some extremely stiff forearm shots.

Steve Hebert: You know, I have to say... those forearm shots looked like they really hurt!

[Draco bleeds a bit from the nose as Barker grabs him by his short hair. Barker walks over to the furthest turnbuckle, which neither team occupies, and he slams Draco's head into the top turnbuckle. After a Russian legsweep into the corner, he ascends to the second rope, where he begins a ten-count of punches to Draco's forehead.]

Lex Robinson: Here comes a series of punches...

Steve Hebert: Come on, Draco! You can't let this happen!

[With the fans counting along, Chris Barker stops at the count of nine, laughing down at Draco. In the meantime, Casanova yells out at the referee, telling him to stop this trasvesty, allowing Draco to lowblow "Wolfman" and bring him down to the mat with a vicious powerbomb.]

Lex Robinson: Did you see that low blow?!

Steve Hebert: Yes - it was a beautiful sight. Nice tag work by the team of Draconova! And even better powerbomb to go along with it.

Lex Robinson: Both men on the ground, now; both are looking for tags.

Steve Hebert: They're almost there...

[Slowly, but surely, Chris Barker reaches a corner and tags in...]

Lex Robinson: Sean Graves has been tagged in!

Steve Hebert: Oh shit; wrong person. You should have tagged in Tony, Chris!

Lex Robinson: What a "Wolfman".

Steve Hebert: I can't believe he tagged in the wrong guy.

Lex Robinson: He didn't care; he was just looking to get out of the ring.

[Draco crawls over to his corner, where he now tags in a fresh Casanova, who is instantly attacked by Sean Graves.]

Lex Robinson: And Draco with the tag to HIS tag team partner, Casanova.

Steve Hebert: Things are about to heat up Lex... and they are!

[They send punches, chops and knees back-and-forth to each other; with Casanova coming out on top thanks to a European uppercut that knocks Sean's head back.]

Lex Robinson: Wow, it looks like Casanova is really focused for this match!

Steve Hebert: I knew it! I told you we were gonna have new tag team contenders!

Lex Robinson: Don't get ahead of yourself; Gwenivere and Zimdela certainly will have something to say about that.

Steve Hebert: Pfft, they're all Sentinels. Either way, it's all good.

[After a series of punches, both men bounce off the ropes and come winding back at each other. At the same time, they both leap into the air, looking to hit the other with a flying clothesline. However, because of this, they both hit each other at the same time; causing them both to fall down with a double-clothesline.]

Lex Robinson: They both clothesline each other down to the mat! Casanova, now using the ropes, brings himself back to his feet as he makes his way over to Sean Graves, side headlocking him. Twisting around, he double-underhooks his arms and performs an implanted-DDT.

Steve Hebert: Yes! Sean Graves' face smashes against the cold canvas! Casanova gets up from the move and right away, begins kicking and stomping at him.

Lex Robinson: Oh my god, Steve, that was quite the DDT!

Steve Hebert: I could feel the impact all the way down here! Wasn't it great?!

[Halting the stomping to the head, Casanova he walks over to Hecate's corner and teases a tag-in, stopping just short of her to spit at her feet.]

Lex Robinson: That was classy.

Steve Hebert: At least he didn't rape her.

[Walking back over to Sean Graves, Hecate becomes mad after the spit incident and she threatens to get into the ring, causing the referee to charge towards her, blocking her path. Using this distraction, Casanova throws his hands in the air, making a clapping sound, as Draco enters the ring.]

Lex Robinson: What the...? There was no tag!

Steve Hebert: Of course there was! You just didn't see it!

Lex Robinson: Right. God, referee, turn around.

[As a unit, Draco and Casanova throw Graves into the corner turnbuckle, where they both work away at him with kicks, stomps and punches to the gut. Making his exit, Casanova stands on the apron, as a freshly-recovered Draco begins striking Sean with some short-arm uppercuts.]

Lex Robinson: Oh, come on... this cannot be legal.

Steve Hebert: For crying out loud. Stop your whining, Lex. It's giving me a tumor.

Lex Robinson: If only I could be so lucky...

Steve Hebert: What did you say?!

Lex Robinson: I said, "Look what's going on in the ring..."

[The ref turns around as he doesn't really know what happened. He heard the tag and therefore lets Draco stay in the ring.]

Lex Robinson: Life is so unfair!

Steve Hebert: Get over yourself... or kill yourself. Either/or.

[Seeing that the tag was not made, Millennia and Barker rush into the ring, where they run over to Draco, beginning to pound away on his back. When Casanova sees this, he hops in over the top rope and tries to fight them off. He is soon followed by Hecate, who pushes her way past the referee.]

Lex Robinson: We are losing control here!

Steve Hebert: Who are the legal men again?

Lex Robinson: Draco and Sean Graves... I think! Gahhh, I don't know!

[Millennia exchanges fists with Casanona as they exchange fists, results in Casanova clotheslining him over the top rope and to the floor. As he lays on the floor, Casanova climbs to the top turnbuckle and leaps off to the outside with a huge leg drop to the throat of Millennia.]

Lex Robinson: Good God! A flying legdrop to the floor onto Tony Millennia by Casanova!

Steve Hebert: Only from the best Casanova. That's why these guys are so great.

Lex Robinson: All of these stars are pulling out all the stops tonight!

[As we focus back on the ring, Graves is now battling Chris Barker; while Hecate and Draco duel in the center of the ring. Graves performs a standing drop kick to the back of Barker's head, sending him rolling out of the ring, through the ropes. On the other side of him, Draco is making his way back up to his feet from a flying dropkick from Hecate. Wobbling, Draco is lined up for a superkick from Hecate.]

Lex Robinson: It looks like Hecate is wanting to decapitate Draco with the superkick that's shortly coming.

Steve Hebert: She will never hit it!

Lex Robinson: We'll soon find out...

[Draco stands up and BANG! Hecate nails Draco right on the chin with her super kick, knocking Draco out cold. Standing above Sean Graves, Hecate smirks, glad of what she has just accomplished.]

Lex Robinson: They did it! They actually are going to win this match!

Steve Hebert: No... wait, what the fuck is this?

Lex Robinson: Hecate is pinning Draco...

[The referee, having no idea who the legal is, begins the count...]

Lex Robinson: The count is being made...

Steve Hebert: Hah! Sean Graves pushes Hecate off Draco, going for the cover himself! What a dumb move.

Lex Robinson: Uhm... the count is being made again!

Lex Robinson: This time, Hecate pushes Sean Graves off of Draco! They now both stand, looking confused at each other. They both want to be the one to pin Draco! Hecate for obvious reasons would want the win over him... plus it was her super kick that knocked him out.

Steve Hebert: But I guess Sean Graves thinks he deserves the pinfall!

[Just then, Chris Barker slides into the ring and levels Graves from behind with a clothesline! Hecate claps as Barker kicks her in the stomach and piledrives her head right into the canvas! Barker laughs as he points down to the fallen Hecate! Draco, however, regaining his bearings, gets behind Barker and rolls him up for the pin...]

Lex Robinson: The referee still doesnt know who the legal men are...

Steve Hebert: Well Draco is one of them and he's holding the tights!

Lex Robinson: Here comes the count...

Steve Hebert: They did it! Because of the mistake by Hecate and Sean Graves, Draco and Casanova have become the number-one contenders to the Tag Team Titles!

[Draco rolls out of the ring, and stands with Casanova, who is celebrating the victory. As this happens, Chris Barker sits in the ring with a fallen Hecate and Sean Graves, who is highly confused.]

Lex Robinson: Man... that was screwed up...

Steve Hebert: Fuck no; it's all good.

[Arguing back and forth, Sean and Hecate seem displeased with each other. This lapse in concentration allows Tony Millennia to sneak up behind Sean Graves and catch him with a forearm to the back of his neck, sending him hard to the mat. With furious oblivion, Tony begins stomping away on Sean's body, while Hecate stands there, mesmerized.]

Lex Robinson: Oh no! This is not good for Sean Graves! Hecate, do something!

Steve Hebert: Stand there and get raped. That's what she's good for, anyhow.

Lex Robinson: Finally, here comes Hecate...!

[Pushing Tony away, she stands over Sean Graves, who is holding his ribcage. Her look of concern soon diminishes, though, as she begins to stomp on Sean Graves, as well. Soon enough, both her and Tony are kicking him, while Chris Barker looks on, stunned and amused.]

Lex Robinson: What the hell?! Why is she doing this?!

Steve Hebert: Uh... hmm... I have no idea! But it's better than being raped! Go Hecate; beat the shit out of that ugly metrosexual!

[Delivering a final kick to Sean Grave's stomach, Hecate walks out alongside Tony Millennia, having Chris Barker follow them; visually impressed. When everything concludes, Sean Graves is tended to by the referees.]

Steve Hebert: Oh great, it's The Vine.

Lex Robinson: You don't sound so happy about having The Vine out here...?

Steve Hebert: Another douchebag. Come to think of it, both of these guys are douchebags.

Lex Robinson: Of course, the other guy you're referring to is Laz Kennedy, who defeated Chris Extreme for the Platinum Title.

Steve Hebert: It was luck! Just like how that one light fell on Raynman and squashed him like a bug!

Lex Robinson: Say what?

Steve Hebert: Who knows.

[The tron switches to an image of a swirling magic circle written with white chalk as the slightly-subdued chaos of “Brothers in the Wind” by High on Fire sloughs through the PA system. The words “LAZ KENNEDY” flash onto the screen and a pyro goes off, showering the area in red sparks. From out of the back emerges an imposing dark-skinned form dressed in black. He surveys the crowd as he walks down the aisle, keeping to the middle so he won’t have to touch any of them.]

[Laz slides into the ring and pulls himself up with the ropes, pacing around the squared circle.The tron continues to show the swirling magic circle, colors flooding the screen in random patterns, the only constant thing being the enchanting form of the white circle.]

[Laz looks about at the audience and scales the turnbuckle as the song marches into its chorus. He raises his fists high in the air as Matt Pike’s voice begins again.]

[Laz appears to shout the next words as Matt Pike’s gravelly roar chants them over the PA system.]

[He leaps down, appearing pumped for the match. He stalks across the ring like a panther, waiting for the match to commence.]

Lex Robinson: There's the man we were talking about -- Laz Kennedy!

Steve Hebert: A terrible, terrible person.

Lex Robinson: Not at all.

[The referee holds the Platinum Title high above his head as the bell rings. The Vine wastes no time rushing at Laz Kennedy and taking him down with a clothesline. As Kennedy gets up he is dropped back down with a hard right hand. Kennedy gets up again, but this time gets a boot to the gut. The Vine then brings down a double ax handle smash down on the back of Kennedy’s head.]

Steve Hebert: And this is our Platinum Champion?

Lex Robinson: He was able to defeat Chris Extreme. He deserves the title.

Steve Hebert: Bull. He was just lucky.

[Kennedy is dragged to his feet. The Vine whips him into the ropes and as he comes back, Kennedy is picked up for a sidewalk slam. The Vine doesn’t stop his assault at all on the reigning champion. The Vine starts to lay the boots onto Kennedy’s chest and gut.]

Steve Hebert: Where is the luck now?

Lex Robinson: Why do you think it is luck?

Steve Hebert: He is one of the only Kennedy’s not to go pop. That is good luck for him and bad luck for us.

[The Vine drags Kennedy up to his feet and motions that he will be wearing the title soon enough. Kennedy ducks a clothesline and uses a flurry of rights and lefts to stagger the big man. Kennedy then places his chin under The Vine’s and drops down hitting a chin buster that sends The Vine stumbling back to the ropes. Kennedy goes to clothesline The Vine to the outside, but The Vine ducks down and gets ready to toss him to the outside. Instead The Vine catches his foot on the rope and ends up falling into a thundering clothesline.]

Lex Robinson: A critical error there by The Vine.

Steve Hebert: No, it was all luck. Luck on the benefit of Laz Kennedy.

[The Vine shakes the cobwebs and stands up only to get a drop kick to the chest. Kennedy gets to his feet and bounces off the ropes and hits another dropkick with more force. This time the six-footer goes down. Kennedy runs over his opponent and then springboards off of the middle rope doing a moonsault. Instead of doing a normal moonsault, Kennedy continues to rotate and lands in a leg drop across the head of The Vine.]

Lex Robinson: And the pin! One! Two! Thr—NO! The Vine narrowly kicking out.

Steve Hebert: Kennedy seems a little upset with that. He argues with the referee and is giving The Vine chance to recover.

Lex Robinson: And let me guess…Kennedy’s luck blah blah blah.

Steve Hebert: GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

[The Vine gets to his feet and grabs Kennedy from behind. He lifts him up and hits a belly-to-back suplex. Kennedy tries to get free, but The Vine still has a hold on him. The Vine stands back up and lifts Kennedy up again. Kennedy counters and wraps his legs around The Vine’s waist. The Vine tries to hoist him up, but is unable. Instead he swings around until Kennedy comes in contact with the middle turnbuckle headfirst. The Vine then takes Kennedy and drives his face into the bottom turnbuckle.]

Steve Hebert: And I thought JFK had a bad head ache. Goddamn!

Lex Robinson: Not cool, dude.

Steve Hebert: What?

[The Vine gets a running start and does his own version of the bronco buster so that Kennedy bangs his head against the turnbuckle a bit more. The Vine stops as the referee gets to four in his count. He drags Kennedy to the center of the ring and picks him up. He drops him with a hard snap powerbomb dropping for the cover.]

Lex Robinson: The champion is in trouble. He isn’t moving!

Steve Hebert: Told you! All luck!

[By some miracle, or maybe the hand of God, then again even Satan, Kennedy finds the power to kick out. The Vine is shocked and slams his fists down into the mat in frustration. The Vine picks up Kennedy and places him in the corner. Kennedy staggers a bit and The Vine moves to the other side of the ring setting him up for his trademark spear, Black And White.]

Steve Hebert: No more luck for Kennedy. New champ I can smell it.

Lex Robinson: Sure seems that way.

Steve Hebert: …

Lex Robinson: What?

Steve Hebert: You agreed with me. Creepy.

Lex Robinson: Ya, really.

Steve Hebert: Stop that!

[The Vine charges at Kennedy looking to tear him in half with the spear. Instead Kennedy falls over at the last minute unable to stand on his own two feet anymore. The Vine can’t stop himself and nails his shoulder straight into the steel pole. He pulls himself out slowly looking down at what appears to be beaten Kennedy. He bends down and picks him up. He is setting him up for The Vine Bomb.]

Steve Hebert: Luck no more! Ha ha!

Lex Robinson: It looks like Kennedy will lose in his first title defense.

Steve Hebert: That is---OH SWEET GEORGIA BROWN! NO!

[It seems that the damage done to The Vine’s shoulder has weakened his arm. As he hoists up Kennedy is arm gives way and Kennedy falls down on top of The Vine.]

Lex Robinson: And Laz Kennedy retains his title!

Steve Hebert: But…No…He…Luck.

Lex Robinson: Call it what you may, but Kennedy is champ and that is all that matters.

[After the match, Laz Kennedy receives his Platinum Title and casually walks to the back, his head up, proud of his victory.]

Lex Robinson: We're ready to go for the finals of our Sin Wrestling Ultraviolence Tournament! The winner of this upcoming match will walk out with the Ultraviolence Title.

Steve Hebert: Jesus, it looks like a goddamn junkyard out here. There's even a friggy blow-up doll with barbed-wire around her oval-shaped mouth! Don't you think that'd... you know... tear the fucking thing open?!

Lex Robinson: ...And some fan just threw a chain-wrapped steel chair over my head. Amazing.

Steve Hebert: Too bad it didn't knock you out.

[The lights slightly dim as a female voice comes across the arena.]

["Prison Sex" by Tool begins to play, as the fans start to boo loudly. Maynard James Keenan begins to sing as Zimdela Brudon makes his way out, carrying a trashcan full of weapons -- including, but not limited to a barbed-wire wrapped crutch, a gan of gasoline and some beer bottles.]

Lex Robinson: And the referee for tonight's match, Zimdela Brudon, who for some reason, is bringing even more weapons down to the ring.

Steve Hebert: Hey, the former Ultraviolence Champ and current World Champ is a fan. He's allowed to bring stuff to this match; it's a fans-bring-the-weapons affair, isn't it?

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

[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, fog starts to roll in.]

[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.]

[Mike Phantasy finally makes his way into the ring, passing by all the junk and weapons around the ring. Rolling inside, he just misses a makeshift baseball bat with thumbtacks glued to its side.]

Steve Hebert: This match just got Phantasticrific.

Lex Robinson: Lame. Last week, Mike was able to get his way here by defeating The Vine in the semi-finals in a Supermarker Brawl.

Steve Hebert: Hell, he even kicked an old lady. That definitely earned him points with me.

Lex Robinson: God, you're so terrible.

Steve Hebert: Damn right I am.

["Perfection or Vanity" by Dimmu Borgir begins to play softly over the P.A. System as the lights of the arena dim, plunging the now dusky sea of fans into total silence. The entrance to the arena slowly illuminates with a pale white light as smoke gushes forth from it, creating a viscous blanket. A figure emerges forth from the smoke slowly – covered head to toe in a hooded, silken black robe with red piping – the face shrouded by the protective darkness of the hood as it stands amid the slowly seeping smoke. It tilts his head up and gazes deep and hard at the on looking crowd and begins to walk down the ramp. Upon reaching the ring he stops, slowly he peels the hood away revealing his face – his eyes fixed upon his opponent – he slowly climbs onto the apron, never once taking his eyes from the challenger, and enters the ring. He disrobes and discards it outside the ring. He stands still, waiting, watching, until the sound of the bell is heard.]

Steve Hebert: Bob Saget has arrived now, too!

Lex Robinson: Steve, that's Bal Sagoth.

Steve Hebert: Whatever, all I know is that I loved his work on America's Funniest Home Videos.

Lex Robinson: ...

[The lights in the arena dim to a dark orange as an erie silence falls over the crowd.]

["My Plague" by Slipknot blasts over the PA system as Dontam Dyce makes his way slowly out onto the entrance. He wears a black hoody that covers most of his face as he walks slowly down the aisle and into the ring. Casually, Dontam slides into the ring, walks around it, seeming very focused. Stopping suddenly, he looks into the crowd, flips the hood off his face and throws his arms out to the side in a crucifix position. He is the fallen angel, the lost child of Sin Wrestling; he is Dontam Dyce!]

Steve Hebert: Do you smell what the Dontam Dyce is cooking?! Because I sure as hell do. He's cooking the formula to become the new Ultraviolence Champion! Why? Because he is the self-proclaimed new god of Ultraviolence! That's why!

Lex Robinson: I'm sure Zimdela would like to have a word about that. Speaking of which, Zimdela just stands in the corner, looking all three men down. Do you think he's going to search these men for any foreign objects? Maybe for a wrench of some kind.

Steve Hebert: If he does, it'll be because he'll be giving them objects; not the other way around.

Lex Robinson: Maybe so. Now all we're waiting for is that bell to ring.

[Ding, ding, ding.]

Lex Robinson: And there it is! Upon hearing the bell, all three men slowly stand in their respective corner, not wanting to be the first man to make a mistake and fall victim to some outstanding shot. Becoming tired of this waiting, Zimdela shouts at the three, telling them to hurry the hell up.

Steve Hebert: Who can blame him? I've got some sleep to catch up on and he's even got a World Title defense coming right up... just after this match, too!

Lex Robinson: Ah, yes, Chris Extreme will be getting his shot at the World Title. But right now, we've got to stay focused on the match at hand; which sees Bal Sagoth being the first man to make a move. Stepping into the center of the ring, he calls out both Mike and Dontam.

Steve Hebert: They're not taking this lightly, either. Both men step up to the plate and are about to grab ahold of Bal... who throws a ball of fire into both men's face!

Lex Robinson: Holy shit! That nearly set Mike Phantasy's hair on fire! Stumbling back, he tries to wash out his eyes, while Zimdela stands there, clapping; he's obviously impressed.

Steve Hebert: The man who almost blew Bal to pieces a few weeks ago, Dontam Dyce, slither back into the corner. He narrowly escaped that fireball! Seeing Dontam's back turned, Bal charges in and catches him with a hefty right forearm to the neck, knocking Bal up against some boards that have been brought into the ring by the fans!

Lex Robinson: Those boards have scattered nails in them, too! Picking one up, Bal cracks it in two over Dontam Dyce's back!

Steve Hebert: Of course, Dontam screeches out! Jesus, Bob Saget is even picking up another piece of board and slamming it across "The Urban Assassin"'s back! He goes for a third one, but before anything can happen, Mike Phantasy runs in, leaps onto Bal's back, trying to choke him out!

Lex Robinson: And Zimdela Brudon, our World Champion, takes a step back, grabs a chair, sits down and watches what unfolds. Dropping back, Bal crashlands Mike onto a sheet of glass that had a target on it, along with the words "Mike Phantasy's head here" written on it.

Steve Hebert: Well, his head didn't go through it; but his arse sure did!

[Keeping his body covered over Mike, Bal looks for the cover.]

Lex Robinson: He's going for a quick count!

Steve Hebert: Dontam Dyce comes sailing out of the corner and stomps on Bal's head, stopping the count! A smart move right there.

Lex Robinson: Very much agreed. Picking Bal up, Dontam begins to smash away at his face with some fists, including a bionic elbow. Lifting up the jug of water, he holds it high above his head and flings it at Bal, having it strike his side.

Steve Hebert: Water is hardcore!

Lex Robinson: Next, Dontam grabs Bal by the head and drops him down onto the jug of water with a rough and tumble DDT! Turning Bal over, Dontam cuts right to the chase, instantly wrapping his hands around Bal Sagoth's throat, choking the life out of him. Remember, it was just one week ago that Dontam used a crane to nearly destroy Bal Sagoth.

Steve Hebert: Fuck that. Bal Sagoth was able to walk away from that, though, and nearly cause Dontam to lose his semi-finals match! How's that for being immortal?! Hell, Bal Sagoth thinks he Bruce Willis from that movie, Unbreakable.

[Releasing his choke on Bal, Dontam stands to his feet and tends to Mike Phantasy, who is still withering from being sent through glass. Lifting him up, Dontam grabs a clubbing arm across Mike's back, dropping him to one knee. This doesn't last long, however; as Dontam literally choke-tosses Mike into the corner, where he picks up a hamster-cage and smashes it across the top of Mike Phantasy's head.]

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy has just gone cuckoo for caca!

Steve Hebert: Cuckoo for cock?!

Lex Robinson: ...No. To further the damage, Dontam places Mike in a standing headscissors position... we may see the Dontam Bomb right here, right now. If he hits it, this match could very well be over!

[Lifting Mike up into a powerbomb position, Dontam transitions the hold into a piledriver-formation, hanging Mike upside down. Charging forward, he holds Mike, going belly-to-back with him in an upside-down form, crashing into the corner where the cactus has been set-up, squashing it against the turnbuckles.]

Lex Robinson: Oh my shit! The cactus has been ruined!

Steve Hebert: The cactus?! Fuck the cactus! Think of Mike Phantasy! He was hung upside-down and rammed into it! This is awful! He's a former Platinum Champion!

Lex Robinson: This is ultraviolence; he should have expected it.

Steve Hebert: To hell with that!

[Leaving Mike hanging in the corner, with the cactus underneath him, Dontam backs up and sizes Mike up for measure. Sprinting forward, he crashes in with an avalanche to the upside-down Phantasy, who crushes the cactus even moreso.]

Steve Hebert: Aww, oh jesus. Mike's ribs are gonna be broken. And he's going to shit out cactus pricks for a week.

Lex Robinson: Needles, Steve. Not pricks.

Steve Hebert: Ah, suck my prick, Lex.

Lex Robinson: No thanks. Anyhow, Bal Sagoth is also getting in on this, as he shoves Dontam out of the way. Taking a few steps back, he soon bounds forward, crashing against Mike's back with a hard knee, splattering him into the corner.

Steve Hebert: Goddamn! You can just hear Mike squealing out in pain!

Lex Robinson: He deserves it after what he has done to Slash Tannon!

Steve Hebert: Are you trying to demean our ring crew guys, Lex? Are you? These guys are hard workers.

Lex Robinson: No, I'm saying that Slash has fought his way to Sin Wrestling and should not be demoted like that!

Steve Hebert: Pffft. Rumor has it that he Slash Tannon is good at cleaning shit off toilets, too. You won't be saying that when he cleans your toilet to perfection.

Lex Robinson: Slash Tannon is going to be a ring crew worker; not a janitor.

Steve Hebert: Screw that, I'll make him clean my damn toilet!

Lex Robinson: Whatever. Anyhow, Zimdela is... now scolding the two men, Bal Sagoth and Dontam Dyce. I... uh... I don't get it.

Steve Hebert: Hmmm...

Lex Robinson: Oh wait, now Zimdela charges in and lands a vicious splash into the corner on Mike Phantasy! He just wanted to join in on the fun!

Steve Hebert: What a guy. He's my Thursday night poker partner, you know?

Lex Robinson: Really?!

Steve Hebert: No.

[After that last devastating splash, Mike slides off the turnbuckles, with the cactus still clinging into his stomach. Rolling to the floor, he grabs a simple steel chair, which he uses to sit up, taking a breather, watching as Bal and Dontam now turn their attention towards each other.]

Steve Hebert: Good move right there by Mike Phantasy. With what has just happened to him, he needs a good break.

Lex Robinson: Unfortunately, he's going to get it, too -- Dontam Dyce and Bal Sagoth are now slugging away on each other, exchanging fists, chops, slaps and punches. After spinebustering Dontam onto what seems to be a... trunk of a car, denting it in, Bal climbs to his feet, ready and willing to do more damage to Dontam.

Steve Hebert: You shouldn't speak so soon because here comes Mike with that steel chair...

[Sliding inside with the chair, Mike goes to strike Bal with it, only to have Bal Sagoth duck underneath it, thereby making Mike hit Zimdela across the forehead.]

Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus, he missed... kinda.

Lex Robinson: Bal ducked and the chair went swinging straight at Zimdela's head, but Zimdela does not go down!

Steve Hebert: Holy fuck, our World Champion is still standing, not knowing what to do. Look at the look on Mike Phantasy's face; he regrets that.

Lex Robinson: If Zimdela retorts, he really would regret it! Now showing signs of disdain, Zimdela yanks the chair out of Mike Phantasy's hands, holds it above his head and swings it at the man who just hit him!

Steve Hebert: Mike ducks! Mike ducks! The chair strikes Bal Sagoth in the face! Double whoops! Laughing at this, Mike can do nothing as Zimdela backhand swings the chair at him, knocking him down!

Lex Robinson: Both Bal and Mike are down, with Dontam slowly regaining his energy, climbing steadily to his feet. Standing completely up, Dontam looks at his downed competitors, smiles and looks at Zimdela, giving him a thumbs up. But he should be careful now, too, because Zimdela is pulling that chair back and -- yup -- he strikes Dontam Dyce with it, also!

Steve Hebert: Dontam Dyce has crumpled to the mat alongside Mike Phantasy and Bal Sagoth -- what a shame. He grabs Bal Sagoth’s hand and drags him over Mike Phantasy, going for the count... This is going to be it...

Lex Robinson: No! Mike Phantasy gets his hand and shoulders up!

Steve Hebert: Merciful Jesus. Shrugging, Zimdela throws Sagoth off of Mike Phantasy, grabs Dontam Dyce and rolls him on top of Mike. This shall get the deed done...

Lex Robinson: Another count is being made...

Lex Robinson: Yet again, Mike Phantasy kicks out of it!

Steve Hebert: Grumpy, Zimdela puts Dyce down right next to Sagoth. He grabs Mike Phantasy and drapes him across both of his opponents. He starts ANOTHER count.

Lex Robinson: This could it. They couldn't get Mike, but this double-count may work...

Steve Hebert: Aghhh! Holy... goddamnit! Smirking, Zimdela has no other choice but to pull each man off the other, starting a completely random count.

Lex Robinson: Uh... he's slapping the mat. One... two...

[At the same time, as if on cue, all three men -- who are not covered -- instantly lift their shoulders up off the mat. Stifling some laughter, Zimdela gets to his feet and leans in the corner, allowing all three men to convalesce.]

Lex Robinson: Dang, the first to move is Bal Sagoth, who is rolling to the floor, dropping down to a kneeling position next to some wrenches, spoons... and forks. I think someone moved their kitchen to ringside.

Steve Hebert: Just as long as someone makes me some chicken, I'll be happy.

Lex Robinson: Peering into the ring, Bal looks at his two opponents, who are now slightly moving. Changing objectives, he reaches under the apron and pulls out a large wooden table that has a chair attached to it with rope. That's not a fan-brought weapon!

Steve Hebert: These fan-broght weapons are terrible, anyhow. I mean, seriously. We even have a goddamn Ninja-Star made out of lighting tubes.

Lex Robinson: It's better than your uranium that you brought out.

Steve Hebert: Pffft. If it can kill Superman, it can kill everyone else.

Lex Robinson: Well... yes. But it was kryptonite that killed Superman.

Steve Hebert: Same thing.

Lex Robinson: Bal unties the chair and throws it into the ring with both Dontam and Phantasy. He takes a second glance at the table, shakes his head and reaches under the ring once more. Now what's he up to?

Steve Hebert: Hopefully, he'll pull out a dancing midget. That's what Sin Wrestling needs, too. More midgets. Preferably dancing midgets.

Lex Robinson: ...What are you going on about?

Steve Hebert: I have no clue!

Lex Robinson: Wait... look... this time, Bal pulls out a large coil of razor-wire, while sadistically smiling.

Steve Hebert: The fans didn't bring that weapon, either!

[Setting the razor-wire on the side of the apron, Bal again ducks down, his eyes lighting up once he pulls the next item out.]

Steve Hebert: And neither is that!

Lex Robinson: He's got a can of gasoline!

Steve Hebert: The arena is going to go up in flames tonight. You heard it here first, folks.

Lex Robinson: At the rate we're going, I wouldn't doubt it in the least!

Steve Hebert: Well shit; Mike Phantasy and Dontam Dyce aren't even paying attention to this, either! Well, guess what, they need to!

Lex Robinson: You're right. When rises to his feet, he flies at Dontam with a crossbody block, only to be caught in mid-air. Hoisting Mike up, pressing him high into the air, Dontam switches things by dropping Mike onto the mat with a Michinokou Driver onto a pile of thumbtacks! Jesus Christ!

Steve Hebert: Fuck that. While Dontam is picking up that bat with the tacks glued to it, using it to smash against Mike's crotch, Bal is wrapping the barbed-wire around the table and dousing it with gasoline, pouring it on every inch of the table.

[Placing the can beside him on the apron, Bal removes some matches from his pocket.]

Steve Hebert: Matches are hardcore, too!

Lex Robinson: Shut up, Steve. He's igniting that table; the flames rising into the air once he drops the match onto the table.

Steve Hebert: Things have gotten fucking hot. And I'm not talking about Gwenivere Jordan's titties, either.

[Having Mike Phantasy downed after a stiff shot with the baseball bat, Dontam Dyce makes the cover...]

Lex Robinson: In the ring, Dontam's going for a pinfall...

Lex Robinson: Zimdela is using Dontam's bum to make the count!

Lex Robinson: And he slaps Dontam's bum-bum once again!

Steve Hebert: I think Dontam has been weirded out by that because he just manually broke the count. Pointing a finger at Zimdela, Dontam is taken aback when Bal Sagoth leaves his flaming table and rolls into the ring, attacking him with a barbed-wire tennis racket! Now that's how you play tennis!

Lex Robinson: Ripping the barbed-wire tennis racket from his forehead, Dontam staggers into position and tries to Yakuza kick Bal's chin. Fortunately, Bal is able to counter it by grabbing Dontam's leg, spinning him around and STOing him onto the mound of glass that has built up in the middle of the ring. When he goes to stand, however, Mike Phantasy gets to his feet, grabs the steel chair from earlier and absolutely blasts it across Bal's skull!

Steve Hebert: Amazingly enough, Bal only falls to his knees! Looking around, Mike appears bedazzled... which he tries to end by bashing Bal with the chair once more!

Lex Robinson: Bal doesn't seem affected! What the hell?!

Steve Hebert: This is some goddamn voodoo shit! That's what's going on here!

[Now angered, Mike Phantasy holds the dented steel chair high above his head and bounces off the ropes. When he returns, he blasts the chair across Bal's skull for the third time, with tremendous force, but Bal still remains on one knee!]

Lex Robinson: We thought Regan Chambers' chairshot to David Nistiero were harsh! Those one pale in comparison to these! Raising the chair up for one final blow, Mike Phantasy leaves himself open for... a fireball! Bal Sagoth just spit another fireball at Mike Phantasy, who is forced to drop the chair!

Steve Hebert: Hoooly Jesus! Having his face scorched, Mike hunches over, trying to cool himself down, giving Bal ample space to drop him with a DDT onto the steel chair! He makes the cover!

Lex Robinson: The count's broken-up by Dontam Dyce, who charges out of the corner with another chair, and splashes onto Bal's back with it! Rolling Bal off, he makes a cover of his very own.

Lex Robinson: There's one... two... and... thr-- NO!

Steve Hebert: Bal Sagoth breaks the count with a forceful kick to the face! Holy goddamn!

Lex Robinson: Trying to shrug off that massive kick, Dontam stomps to his feet, where he blocks a punch from Bal Sagoth. Thinking quickly, he knees Bal in the gut and standing headscissors him.

Steve Hebert: Bob Saget is gonna go for a huge fall!

Lex Robinson: Dontam lifts Bal up onto his shoulders, looking for the Dontam Bomb. He runs forward... he's going to Dontam Bomb Bal Sagoth from the ring to the flaming table below!

Steve Hebert: Paramedics, where are you?!

[When Dontam speeds forward, his strength becomes muted thanks to an eye-gauge from Bal Sagoth, which knocks him off his game. Falling behind "The Urban Assassin" and landing on his feet, Bal waistlocks him and hits an excellent belly-to-back suplex!]

Lex Robinson: Bal Sagoth escapes from Dontam's clutches, falls behind him, lands on his feet and has enough energy left to back suplex him!

Steve Hebert: Nuts. Absolutely nuts. And here I thought we were going to get a roasted goth.

Lex Robinson: We came close to it. Too close, perhaps. Picking up Dontam, Bal escorts him to the edge of the apron, where he secures his hold with some sharp strikes to the back of Dontam's head. Picking Dontam up, Bal Sagoth lets him float into the air, until he comes crashing down on the top rope with a hotshot!

[Exiting to the outer portion of the apron, Bal gives Dontam some hard elbows and axehandles to the back, not allowing him to remove himself from the top rope. Each smack bringing Dontam's head closer and closer to the flames being shot-up from the table just beneath them.]

Lex Robinson: They both need to be careful here. At this point in the match, neither man needs to make a crucial mistake, or they'll end up on the losing end of this match.

Steve Hebert: Exactly. They've shed blood, torn each other apart and burnt each other to a crisp. If they fuck up now, then they're even stupider than... say... Neo.

Lex Robinson: God, I miss that big lug.

Steve Hebert: Me too.

Lex Robinson: Wait a second... wait a friggin' second! What's Bal Sagoth doing?!

Steve Hebert: It appears he is setting Dontam Dyce up for the Divine Intervention Piledriver...!

Lex Robinson: What the hell?! That table is on fire and... oh no...!

[Without warning, Bal places Dontam in a standing headscissors. Wrapping his arms around Dontam's body, he lifts him up into the air and drops back, sending both himself and Dontam falling from the apron -- and through the flaming table.]

Steve Hebert: HOLY SHIT!

Lex Robinson: My sentiments exactly! Even the fans are chanting for that!

Steve Hebert: Zimdela looks impressed, as well!

Lex Robinson: I don't blame him! Bal Sagoth and especially Dontam Dyce, who was dropped on his head, are out on the floor. The only person stirring -- other than Zimdela Brudon, the referee -- is Mike Phantasy, who is gallantly getting to his feet. Picking up a bunch of lighttubes that have been tied together with barbed-wire, Mike throws them to the floor, having them, land on both Dontam and Bal Sagoth, sending glass everywhere!

Steve Hebert: Jesus. It's just too bad that none of that glass got into the fans' eyes.

Lex Robinson: Yes, I'm sure that'd be a pity, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Hey, can the sarcasm and pay attention to the match; Mike Phantasy is climbing to the top turnbuckle.

Lex Robinson: Actually, he takes a while to get up here -- which makes sense, considering all that he has gone through tonight. This stalling is not leaving a good taste in Zimdela Brudon's mouth, though. Not liking this one bit, he steps up behind Mike Phantasy, lays his hand on his rear-end and pushes him off the top turnbuckle! Spiralling down to the floor, Mike lands hard on his back, all thanks to the match's referee!

Steve Hebert: Hey, Zimmy is a good guest-ref. A lot better than anyone else has ever been.

Lex Robinson: Yes, because interjecting yourself and hitting the wrestlers with a chair is just lovely, right?

Steve Hebert: That's right! Now you're thinking!

Lex Robinson: Man, oh man; all three contenders are laid out on the floor, barely able to move. Thank God that fire has been extinguished, though.

Steve Hebert: It's just unfortunate that it was extinguished by Dontam's head!

Lex Robinson: Well... I hear ya. Ironically enough, Dontam is the first person to budge. Crawling through the broken glass, charred wood and god-knows what else, Dontam lifts himself to his feet and crawls into the ring, searching for some sort of weapon.

Steve Hebert: Hey, Zimdela is handing him an empty bottle of beer and that barbed-wire crutch. How nice of him!

Lex Robinson: What's even more interesting is that Zimdela is getting antsy due to waiting for someone to enter. Hopping to the floor, he grabs Bal Sagoth and flings him into the ring, where Dontam is ready and waiting to smash him with the crutch!

Steve Hebert: You gotta have some action. With no action, there'll be no blood. That's that.

[After beating Bal with the barbed-wire crutch and smashing one of the empty bottles of Bal's bleeding head, Dontam goes for the count.]

Steve Hebert: Zimdela loves his asses! However, Bal also loves kicking out because that's exactly what just occured.

Lex Robinson: Seemingly infuriated with Zimdela's creative count, Dontam climbs to his feet and confronts the World Champion, who doesn't back down from Dontam's hateful gaze. Turning around, Dontam gives up trying to argue his point, lifts Bal up and whips him into the ropes.

Steve Hebert: The fuck he doesn't! Before Bal can be released, he is able to reverse the whip, sending Dontam himself in. Storming back, Dontam bounces against the ropes and into the arms of Bal Sagoth, who has them both wrapped around Dontam's neck, trapping him with a headlock.]

Steve Hebert: A headlock? Not a very "extreme" move for such a hardcore match, right? Needs more powerbombs into a vat of SARS.

Lex Robinson: That's just too hardcore for our standards.

Steve Hebert: No way.

Lex Robinson: Dontam begins to cringe in pain as Bal's hold tightens around his neck and head... he is going to knock motherfucking Dontam Dyce out!

[As the camera closes in on the hold, we see Bal's face pressed against Dontam's neck.]

Steve Hebert: What the heck?

Lex Robinson: Is he... is he... I think he...

Steve Hebert: Jesus Christ, he is biting him! Dontam Dyce is not a hamburger, Bal!

Lex Robinson: He is tearing away on Dontam Dyce's skin, shredding it like a veracious animal!

Steve Hebert: Well, it is legal in this match, anything goes. Now that's extreme.

[Dontam screams in agony as Bal persists with his teeth sunk deep into the flesh of his neck. Trickles of blood slowly drop down onto the mat, meaning the skin has been broken.]

Lex Robinson: Dontam is tapping furiously, but Zimdela pays no attention to it!

Steve Hebert: Eh, I don't blame him. He said he doesn't want this match to end with a submission, so it looks like he's going to live up to that promise.

Lex Robinson: I'm not certain if that's a good thing or a bad thing... Dontam is bleeding profusely!

Steve Hebert: It's a good thing, I'm sure.

[Finally, the biting stops once Zimdela moves in and punches Bal Sagoth between the eyes, breaking the hold. Once that's done, he even pounds Dontam with some punches.]

Lex Robinson: Not one to miss out on any sort of action, our World Champion is breaking any sort of submission.

Steve Hebert: Correction; our soon-to-be ex-World Champion. I mean, I love Zimdela and want to have his babies and all, but Chris Extreme has it in the bag.

Lex Robinson: Mayhaps, but we're currently watching this brutal match right here.

Steve Hebert: I'm just sayin'! Sheesh!

[Leaving the two men alone, Zimdela stands back, letting them continue the match. Dontam Dyce, who is obviously busted open in a various part of his body looks the worst out of everyone involved; he can barely even stand to his feet. When Bal Sagoth stands over him and proceeds to pick him up, a gust of energy surges through Dontam's body like never before.]

Lex Robinson: Dontam just kicked Bal in the testicles!

Steve Hebert: Oh lord.

Lex Robinson: Now that's how you stop a person.

Steve Hebert: Sending a hard uppercut to Bal's jaw, Dontam rises to his knees, showing hate for every inch of Bal's older body.

Lex Robinson: Despite the bloodloss, Dontam gets to his feet, locks his arms around Bal's waist and charges him into the corner, where another pane of glass was waiting on him! Smash! Shards of glass spill everywhere!

Steve Hebert: Oh, holy fuck. This is just carnage. Even motherfucking Zimdela Brudon has an erection as a result of all of this violence.

Lex Robinson: I think you're sporting one, too!

Steve Hebert: ...Fag.

Lex Robinson: ...Uhm... getting another pane of glass, Dontam places it over Bal's face, resting it against him in the corner. Storming back, he goes all-out in running across the ring, returning with a stunning facewash-kick to the glass, which shatters everywhere, and onto Bal!

Steve Hebert: The impact of that kick sent Bal Sagoth reeling to the floor! This is absolute madness. Even Mike Phantasy is barely getting to his feet, now. All three men are worn out, bloodied, scratched, bruised, beaten and tired; but they're giving it their all. And goddamnit, I gotta respect that.

Lex Robinson: Sadly, you're only saying that because these are "your guys".

Steve Hebert: Well... true.

Lex Robinson: Following Bal out onto the floor, Dontam now takes his turn of removing things from beneath the ring. What's he taking out now?

Steve Hebert: It looks like some kind of board... but there's something on it.

Lex Robinson: Oh my... oh no... we saw a sample of this just a few weeks ago!

Steve Hebert: It's one of those boards with an explosive device latched on to it! Realizing this, Zimdela's eyes widen and gleam brightly open. Hopping out to the floor, he examines the boor and the explosive device, even aiding in setting it up with Dontam!

Lex Robinson: Sigh... and here we go again.

Steve Hebert: Zimdela's even going one step further. He's pulling out a table for Dontam, setting it up over the board! Lifting Bal Sagoth up, he lays him on the table, while commanded Dontam Dyce to climb to the top turnbuckle of the ring!

Lex Robinson: Jesus Christ almighty. He's definitely going the same route he did a few weeks ago. Remember what happened?

Steve Hebert: Good god yes! A barbed-wire frog splash happened! I now both Zimdela and I would love to see a repeat of that!

Lex Robinson: These are people's lives! How can you be so glorious over that?!

Steve Hebert: ...I'm a French asshole, what else do you expect?!

[Rolling inside of the ring, Zimdela clasps his hands as Dontam Dyce is soon ready to fly through the air, land on Bal Sagoth, crash through the table and set off the explosive. Seconds before liftoff, however, Mike Phantasy re-enters the ring, creeps up on Dontam Dyce and catches him with a Phantasize superkick.]

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy comes out of nowhere, returning to the match, delivering a Phantasize to Dontam Dyce! As a result, Dontam somersaults through the air and... crashes through the table! Bal Sagoth rolls out of the way!

Steve Hebert: BLAMMO! Dontam's back lands on that explosive! Good Jesus, that's disastrous!

Lex Robinson: Dontam has got to be injured or perhaps even... gah, I can't even say it.

Steve Hebert: I can! Dontam Dyce is probably dead! D-E-A-D! DEAD! He pulled a Raynman! He pulled a Mike Hall -- god rest his soul? p.s. who the hell is Mike Hall?!

Lex Robinson: Jesus... the smell of burning flesh...

Steve Hebert: You know, this may have usurped Zimdela's House of Horrors as the most gruesome match in Sin Wrestling history.

Lex Robinson: Obviously. We've had fire, blood, crutches, barbed-wire, piledrivers, thumbtacks, superkicks and even the goddamn referee has gotten into the act several times!

Steve Hebert: Well, Zimdela's House of Horrors had Shade Montgomery... and uh... Zimdela! Don't forget Playton!

Lex Robinson: Who the...

Steve Hebert: Ah, forget it.

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy lingers in the ring, using the ropes to hold himself up, laughing at the carnage that he has unleashed to Dontam Dyce. With blood streaming down his face, he ducks under the top rope, reaches out and tugs on Bal Sagoth's hair, yanking him back into the ring. Having Bal halfway in the ring, over the middle rope, Mike executes an elbow to the back of his neck, knocking him to the mat. He goes to pick him up, but as usual, Bal Sagoth fights back, using Zimdela's barbed-wire crutch to his advantage!

Steve Hebert: He just used that crutch to lowblow, Mike, Lex! Getting to his feet, Bal picks up a picture frame of some old lady... is that the lady that Mike kicked at the supermarket?!

Lex Robinson: I highly doubt it.

Steve Hebert: Oh, who gives a fuck. All I know is that old people all over the world rejoice for their redemption as Bal Sagoth smashes the picture and picture frame over Mike's head! Falling to the ground, Mike, along with his goofy looking face, lays prone for any attack from Bal Sagoth.

Lex Robinson: Speaking of that, Mike is plucked to his feet and is stuck in between Bal's legs with a standing headscissors. The Divine Intervention piledriver onto the mat by Bal Sagoth!

Steve Hebert: Oh fuck...

Lex Robinson: He's not letting up, though. Continuing to hold tight onto Mike, Bal stand up once again, still with Mike's head between his legs.

Steve Hebert: The Divine Intervention piledriver again! This time, he lands on a pile of shattered glass!

Lex Robinson: Yet again, Bal rises -- and wouldn't you know it, still with Mike's head tucked between his legs! The third Divine Intervention piledriver! Mike's head lands on scattered thumbtacks! Finally, Bal releases his hold, allowing Mike to flop to a bloody, lifeless limp right next to him.

Steve Hebert: With bloody, guts and junk everywhere, Bal Sagoth makes a cover, gingerly laying his body across Mike!

[The referee, Zimdela Brudon, drops down, very pleased with what he has just witnessed.]

Lex Robinson: One...!

Steve Hebert: Holy shit, Dontam is miraculously on his feet! He's trying to re-enter the ring...

Lex Robinson: The three! Bal Sagoth does it! Dontam Dyce cannot re-enter the ring fast enough! Bal wins! Bal wins!

Steve Hebert: Holy fuck; this means our new Ultraviolence Champion is Bob Saget!

Lex Robinson: Ugh...

[Upon the declaration of the match winner, Zimdela stands to his feet, looking down at the wounded three men.]

Zimdela Brudon: You are on your knees and rightfully so... not because you are in my presence... although that is rather nice... but because no man should be standing after what you just went through. Look at the blood on your face... not just your blood but... [points at Mike Phantasy and Dontam Dyce] THEIR BLOOD AS WELL! You took their best shots, you took their blood, and you took their hopes of being Ultra-Violent AWAY FROM THEM!!!!

[Mixed cheers and boos are now heard as Zimdela walks over to Bal Sagoth and hand him his title. Reaching up, Bal goes for the title; but right before he grabs it, Zimdela steps back and puts the title out of reach, causing Bal to drop on both knees -- with a look of confusion and anger on his face.]

Zimdela Brudon: Calm your fucking ass down, slut, you'll get your title. I just thought you should know one thing, boy... Ultra-Violent isn't a match by match basis. It's an all-day an all-week an all-career thing. You just committed yourself to being Ultra-Violence... and you better stay true to that commitment; never stray from it... because if you do, I'll be lurking in the shadows and with one bloody hand, I will reach out from the shadows and grab it from your waist and slash you open while doing it.

[The camera picks up movement behind Bal, as Gwenivere Jordan quietly slides under the bottom rope and hovers behind him.]

Zimdela Brudon: You know, though; one more thing about being Ultra-Violent... and this is very important... never ever worry about your dick... it's more important to protect your ass…

[With that, Zimdela Brudon tosses the belt over the top of Bal Sagoth's bowed head and into the arms of an awaiting Gwenivere Jordan. She smirks and slams the belt hard against the back of Bal's head, knocking him flat on his face. Dropping the belt, she jumps onto the nearest middle rope and executes a picture-perfect springboard moonsault. Standing up, covered in the blood of the fallen, she smirks and lifts the belt again, licking the newfound champion's blood from it. The boos echo throughout the arena as Gwenivere hooks the belt over her shoulder as if it were hers and takes the microphone from Zimdela.]

Gwenivere Jordan: You now have something I want, Bal. I’ve been waiting in the shadows since my return, watching this little bracket tournament while fending off such pathetic slime as Regan Chambers and Heather Halliwell. And now, since this… this... lovely belt is back in play… I’m going for it. And you better make damn sure that you watch your ass.

[Fans are really booing as Zimdela takes the belt from Gwenivere and drops it on top of the waist of the Bal Sagoth. Zimdela, meanwhile, reaches for the microphone from Gwenivere and she gives it to him. He bends down over the new champ and speaks.]

Zimdela Brudon: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner and new Ultra-Violent champion... Bal Sagoth! ...What a fucking bitch.

[The fans begin to boo loudly as Zimdela drops the microphone on Bal's body, while Gwenivere smiles devilishly. As if to add salt to the wound, she kicks Bal hard in the side until he rolls out of the ring and onto the thinly padded pavement below. The two Sentinels seem to relish the attentions from the crowd as they walk up the ramp and exit backstage, while ringside crews tend to Bal Sagoth and the other two men.]

Mike Phantasy: You screwed this up for me! For me, I say!

Dontam Dyce: To hell with you; I'm the ultraviolent icon! This was NOT supposed to happen! I was supposed to make that gothic prick, Bal Sagoth, explode. I hate goths, you crybaby!

[Hearing that comment, Mike gets in Dontam's face. Soon enough, a larger shadow overcomes both men. The camera peels back, showing the figure of David Nistiero standing near the two men.]

Mike Phantasy: What the hell do you want?!

David Nistiero: You stay the hell out of this; this is between me and him.

[David points to Dontam, who doesn't take this very kindly.]

Dontam Dyce: And what the Christ do you want?!

[Stepping in, David Nistiero shoves Mike out of the way, displeasing the former Platinum Champion.]

David Nistiero: Dontam, you and I both know that if it wasn't for Bal Sagoth, I would have walked out of that bar victorious. But it was all screwed-up! I belonged in that Ultraviolence Title match; not you! I hope this stays on your conscious for an eternity, you cheap bastard.

Dontam Dyce: Man, what the hell?!

[Stepping back in to the picture, Mike pushes his way in between both men. First off, he looks at David Nistiero.]

Mike Phantasy: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I don't care about your little self-pity parade, so get lost.

Dontam Dyce: Self-pity parade? Hah, you're one to talk...

[Overhearing this, Mike slowly turns around, having a very wicked sneer on his face.]

Mike Phantasy: Listen here, Donny...

Dontam Dyce: No, you listen; you lost that match for me! And...

[Before long, all three men are down each other's throat. Eventually, through the loud bickering comes a shrill whistle, catching all three men off-guard. Looking forward, they stare at the image of Chris Extreme, who is standing there, annoyed at what he is seeing.]

Chris Extreme: Sweet Nazi-loving Jesus! Will you three shut up?! I've got a World Title match to concentrate on! I'm going to win this for the Master Race! Now SHUT THE FUCK UP... 'cause if you don't, you'll be marked as one of them. The battle lines are drawn... and you don't want to be one of THEM. Nazi out.

[After that short monologue, Chris storms off, leaving all three men stunned. Scratching his chin, Mike seems to come up with some sort of idea. Unfortunately for those around him, that concentration soon fades into a snide remark.]

Mike Phantasy: You know, I should have won that shitty title...

[In unison, David Nistiero and Dontam Dyce roll their eyes as the camera catches up with Chris Extreme, who is walking towards the entranceway.]

Voice: Aww, does wittle, pitiful Ball Sack have a boo-boo?

[The voice is that of Gwenivere Jordan. She spins on her heel, throwing open the ambulance door and shoving the cameraman from it. She leans out, holding onto the inside of the ambulance. She blows a kiss at the camera as the scene begins to fade, turning back to Bal, with a cadaver in her hand.]

Dear world,

I hate punks.
I hate goths.
I hate sluts.
I hate niggers.
I hate spics.
I hate chinks.
I hate sand niggers.
I hate tee-pee niggers.
I hate eskimos.
I hate Jews.
I hate Jesus.
I hate Muhammad.
I hate Buddah.
I hate labels, racial slurs, and atheists.
I do, on the other hand, like hot fudge sundaes.

Love,
Chris Extreme

p.s. I'm the world's greatest asshole.

[Rammstein's "Sonne" booms louder and Chris Extreme marches out exposing the Nazi tattoo on his bare chest, while sporting his baggy, black jeans and orange Nike sneakers. Staggering to the ring in a drunken haze, Chris shouts random obscenities and Fascist ideals at the crowd. He offends everyone before sliding into the ring and rising to one turnbuckle. Finally, he salutes the crowd but spits down on them because he feels they are inferior.]

Steve Hebert: There he is! Your new World Champion!

Lex Robinson: Don't get ahead of yourself, Steve.

Steve Hebert: The greatest Nazi to ever exist... besides Hitler, of course...

Lex Robinson: Uhm...

Steve Hebert: He is the one... the only... the... uh... Nazi! He is Chris Extreme!

Lex Robinson: Good job, Steve. But yes, this is the match we've all been waiting for. Ever since Chris Extreme beat out Mike Phantasy and Zimdela Brudon's own ally, Casanova, everyone has been patiently awaiting for these two to come together.

Steve Hebert: And if Zimdela Brudon has his way, they'll cum together -- you know what I'm saying?

Lex Robinson: Unfortunately, I do. Nevertheless, this will be for the Sin Wrestling World Title -- not to mention that this match will also have lumberjacks... all of which were hand-picked by Zimdela himself.

Steve Hebert: Hah. And you know who they are, don't you...

Lex Robinson: Yes, yes I d--

Steve Hebert: Draco, Casanova and Zimdela's very-own Tag Team Champion partner, the lovely Gwenivere Jordan. And you know what else? They'll all be carrying precious leather-straps. So, things are looking good for Zimdela.

Lex Robinson: ...I thought you were rooting for Chris Extreme?

Steve Hebert: Fuck that; I changed my mind.

[In the ring, Chris Extreme walks around, soaking up the loud jeers from the fans. There is about a thirty second pause, during which the fan's jeers never die down, causing Chris to become even more impatient and pick up the pace of his walking.]

Steve Hebert: Shut up, shut up! Everyone; shut up! You're breaking his concentration -- his half-naked concentration!

Lex Robinson: Well, Chris certainly needs to wear something. But even so, who cares? Let the fans get on him. Let them rip him apart. Let them rip both man apart. I, for one, do not care.

Steve Hebert: Apathy will be your downfall, Lex; your downfall!

Lex Robinson: Then so be it. Things would be much different if Zimdela had actually defended that title once in a while, anyhow!

Steve Hebert: To tell with that; I don't care!

Lex Robinson: Ah, sweet, sweet irony.

[After approximately thirty seconds, the lights die down, the fan's boos loudly resound around the arena, and a chant of “You Both Suck Dick, You Both Suck Dick, You Both Suck Dick!" rattles around the arena.]

Lex Robinson: The fans are really telling how they feel about these two guys.

Steve Hebert: I think those assholes are talking to you.

[Twenty seconds later, the lights are still off, the fans are becoming antsy and finally, a voice is heard over the loudspeaker...]

[Having the lights shine dimly on, "Parabol" by Tool begins to play over the speakers. The crowd remains silent as about twenty members of the Alternative Life slowly march out of the curtain and down the entranceway, with Maynard James Keenan’s voice still echoing over the speakers.]

[Standing in front of the Alternative Life members is Hope Finwood, who was uh... well, assaulted by Chris Extreme just last week.]

Lex Robinson: Here they come!

Steve Hebert: This is just goddamn creepy.

Lex Robinson: Even for you?

Steve Hebert: Even for me.

[After each person gets to the halfway point, they reach in their pocket and pull out a tiny razor blade. A small clattering of negative chants can be heard, but for the most part silence remains in the air.]

[All the members begin to circle the ring and all at once they slither inside. Chris Extreme, not knowing what is going on, quickly walks past a few of them, pushing them out of the way and exits the ring as the ring continues to fill up with Alternative Life members.]

Steve Hebert: That's right, Chris. Push those retards, freaks and attention whores out of the ring.

[The Alternative Life members, following Hope’s movements, begin to place their razor blades on their foreheads, closing their eyes as Maynard finishes the song...]

[Slicing their foreheads open at about the same time, they palm their razor blades and hastily throw them towards the sky, while fireworks ignite all around the ringside area. Soon after that, "Parabol" changes into "Parabola" and a spotlight shoots into the air, which all the members of the Alternative Life are pointing upwards at.]

Lex Robinson: What... the... hell...

Steve Hebert: Good Christ. Don't ask me! We have kids in the ring, bleeding like a whore, we have fireworks going off, we have Chris Extreme bickering with a black guy... I... I... I love this place!

[From the skies descends Zimdela Brudon, who is connected to a bungee chord hurdling down towards the ring. The Alternative Life Members begin to scream and shout as the bungie chord springs, sending Zimdela ricocheting back into the air. Meanwhile, "Parabola" continues to play as Zimdela officially hurdles back down and finally comes to a halt, his body spinning around in the air.]

Lex Robinson: Zimdela Brudon has just came flying down from the rafters!

Steve Hebert: Good thing he didn't pull an Owen, or we wouldn't have any main event here tonight!

Lex Robinson: Huh?

Steve Hebert: Oh, nothing, nothing.

[Once he lands in the ring, Hope Finwood enters the scene, unhooks the bungee chord, allowing him to quickly stand up and remove his shirt, throwing it to the outside. He walks over to Hope, grabs her ass and then bites down on the cut on her forehead, as she lets out a scream of pain and joy. The mosh pit continues on the outside and is getting more violent as blood is beginning to fly everywhere, startling Chris Extreme.]

Lex Robinson: Chris is just looking at these guys. It was just a few months ago that a similar moshpit occured, interrupting a match that Chris was involved in.

Steve Hebert: Errr...

Lex Robinson: Actually, come to think of it, that was his first and only loss... against Gwenivere Jordan, too!

Steve Hebert: Don't remind me. But hey, everyone loves a good old fashioned moshpit sometimes.

Lex Robinson: Especially you, Steve; you're a 250 pound man from Quebec, who loves his moshpits.

Steve Hebert: ...Well, I'm not one to talk about it.

Lex Robinson: Right.

[The music dies down, but the mosh pit won’t stop, as they are now swiping and taking shots at each other just for fun, prompting security to come to and escort all members to the back. Seeing this, random members manage to escape from the men in yellow shirts, jumping over the railings and making their escape through the crowd.]

Steve Hebert: Ack! Get off me, you goddamn retard!

Lex Robinson: We're being overrun with a barrage of Alternative Life members. This is just ridiculous!

Steve Hebert: Now I have blood on me! Christ.

Lex Robinson: I think you've officially got the AIDS.

Steve Hebert: Eh, I knew it'd catch up with me.

[With Hope Finwood exiting the ring, and having the arena area officially cleared of all hooligans, Zimdela unstraps his World Title, lays it out in front of him and beckons to Chris Extreme, motioning for him to enter.]

Lex Robinson: Finally!

Steve Hebert: I second that.

Lex Robinson: On the floor, Chris cautiously grabs hold of the middle rope and pulls himself up.

Steve Hebert: Pulls himself? You better be careful what you say. That man is only wearing boxers!

Lex Robinson: I know and -- I just spoke too soon.

[Aggravated about Zimdela's antics, Chris hunches over, pulls off his boxer shorts and throws them to the ground, tossing them into the face of Steve Hebert.]

Lex Robinson: Holy flying trousers, look out!

Steve Hebert: Bah!

Lex Robinson: They've landed on your face, Steve! Look at all the urine stains... the poop stains... and more poop stains! And, of course, the ejaculation stains, but we're not going to speak about them. Instead, I'll just ask Steve this: why the hell aren't you taking them off your goddamn head?!

Steve Hebert: Because... well... it's better than having to look at Chris Extreme's swaying testicles and penis.

Lex Robinson: ...Damn; you've got me there. Hand me a piece of them short and let me rub them against my face.

Steve Hebert: [ripping the boxers off his face] You sick fuck.

[Without hesitation, Steve heaves the boxer shorts over his left shoulder, sending them flying into the crowd. Rubbing his hands together, Lex shows himself to be poised for the upcoming match.]

Lex Robinson: There's only one thing left, Steve... our lumberjacks. The Sentinels of Insanity!

Steve Hebert: Well, get them the fuck out here.

[Hopping up onto the ring apron, Chris enters the ring, awaiting for the appearance of the lumberjacks, who will make sure everything will go as planned for Zimdela.]

Lex Robinson: Anyyyyy minute now...

[As the first riff of the former Dimebag Darrell of Damageplan, purple and black flames erupt along the ramp and stage. The second main riff hits and more flames erupt, pluming into the air of the arena. This is repeated seven times before the silhouette of Gwenivere Jordan can be seen through the flames, accented by a white spotlight behind her.]

Steve Hebert: Uhm... slight problem...

Lex Robinson: Hmm?

Steve Hebert: They're missing two people. Only Gwenivere Jordan, Zimdela's tag team partner, is making her way out.

Lex Robinson: I'll be damned; you're right.

Steve Hebert: I always am!

Lex Robinson: Where's Draco and Casanova? Gwenivere's out here with that leatherstrap clung to her hand, but they're not out?! Hell, as far as I'm concerned, I've seen enough of Gwenivere Jordan for one night.

Steve Hebert: Don't say such crazy thing. You can never see enough of Gwenivere and her buxom breasts.

Lex Robinson: Maybe you're right. ...Wait... wait... we just got word that we have a camera in the backstage area; here we go...

Steve Hebert: They better have a damn good explanation!

[Fade...]

Draco: Say good night, mother lover!

Casanova: No one attacks us from behind!

[Peering inside the room you can see the masks of the two taco-loving luchalibres, The Gorditas. Chico Loco is sprawled out on the floor and Chico Loco is upside down on the couch. Draco jumps up cheering and looking at the television.]

Draco: Boo yah! Pin for “The Hellacious One”!

[Looking at the television you can see Sin Wrestling: The Video Game on the television. Draco and Casanova are taking on The Gorditas with each wrestler controller their virtual counter part.]

Chico Loco: Kickout, puta!

[The virtual battle continues to wage on as Zimdela Brudon and Gwenivere Jordan shrug their shoulders lightly. Their action is more focused at Chris Extreme than the absence of the two Sentinels.]

Steve Hebert: Hmmph; it looks like they do have a pretty damn good reason. More power to them!

Lex Robinson: Uh... they're supposed to be out here!

Steve Hebert: Just give 'em some time. Sheesh. You uppity people are all work and no play.

Lex Robinson: But we're just seconds away from the bell to start the match!

Steve Hebert: Goddamn, you worry way too much.

[Ding, ding, ding.]

Lex Robinson: There it is! It's on! Zimdela Brudon and Chris Extreme stand in the center of the ring, staring each other down, not moving an inch.

Steve Hebert: Hopefully neither man has bad breath.

Lex Robinson: That's pretty irrelevant at a time like this...

[Starthing things off, Chris slaps Zimdela across his right cheek, leaving a red mark behind. Laughing, just shrugging it off, Zimdela responds with a heinous slap across Chris' chest, forcing him to take a step back.]

Lex Robinson: Ouch! What a slap!

Steve Hebert: Oh boy. Chris isn't gonna like that.

Lex Robinson: Right you. He retorts by poking Zimdela in the eye.

Steve Hebert: When in doubt, go for the eye.

Lex Robinson: I thought the saying was "When in doubt, go for the testicles."

[Just as that is said, a smiling Zimdela Brudon turns around, wraps his hand around Chris Extreme's naked, flopping penis and twists it.]

Steve Hebert: Hmm...

Lex Robinson: A penis twist absolutely knocks Chris Extreme off his game! I guess Chris isn't getting the upperhand with these mind-games, afterall.

Steve Hebert: That's why my motto is, "When in doubt, twist the cock."

Lex Robinson: But... you just said...

Steve Hebert: Eh, things change, Lex.

[Having the circulation in his penis cut-off, Chris sends a quick punch to Zimdela's face, snapping his head back. Now free to roam around, Chris bounces off the ropes and springs back with a jumping clothesline, which sends Zimdela sprawling up against the ropes.]

Lex Robinson: Storming in, Chris shows pure haste in beating down the World Champion. In the meantime, Gwenivere stands on the floor, watching Chris Extreme stagger around the ring, slapping the leatherstrap off her palm.

Steve Hebert: What a woman. I just wish she'd slap me with that strap.

Lex Robinson: Calm down, Steve. Back to the match; we have Chris cornering Zimdela, stiffing him with some hard forearms in the corner. Not one to sit back and whine about getting hurt, Zimdela simply smiles at Chris, requesting some more chops and forearms.

Steve Hebert: He's a sucker for punishment. Actually, come to think of it, this match is way too homosexual for my standards. I'm willing to bet any amount of money that I'll vomit before this match concludes.

Lex Robinson: You need to learn that homophobia is not nice, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Well, we have one guy walking around with his exposed cock... and the other going around with a raging erection 3/4 of the time. It's so hard... ACK!

Lex Robinson: Say what?

Steve Hebert: I'll slap; I swear to God.

Lex Robinson: Kinda like how Chris is slapping away at Zimdela's chest right now. Deciding to change things around, Zimdela grabs hold of Chris' ears and throws him in the corner -- revering things quite nicely. Now backed up against the turnbuckles, Chris faces a flurry of wicked forearm shots from the ultraviolent pervert, who seconds that by whipping Chris Extreme across the ring and into the opposite set of turnbuckles. Following in, Zimdela extends his right arm, going to hit a running clothesline...

Steve Hebert: Chris side-steps out of the way, though! From behind, he rolls Zimdela up with one of them schoolboys!

Lex Robinson: Chris has the tights hooked, too! This match could already be over!

[Kicking out, Zimdela releases enough force to knock Chris out of the ring and land at the feet of Gwenivere Jordan. Right away, the femme fatale begins whipping at Chris Extreme; even smacking that whip against his bald head several times.]

Steve Hebert: Gwenivere Jordan is now whipping Chris like a little bitch!

Lex Robinson: He just can't get away from it, either!

Steve Hebert: Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Chris slides into the ring, escaping from Gwenivere's wrath. You just know she's still pissed from losing the her pussy to Chris Extreme.

Lex Robinson: Uhm... you mean the Platinum Title...

Steve Hebert: Yes, yes.

Lex Robinson: However, Chris' looks out at Gwenivere Jordan, who just smiles coyly at him, winking with her right eye. This deviation allows Zimdela to get to his feet, stand behind Chris Extreme and wrap both arms around Chris' waist.

Steve Hebert: Oof! Zimdela just flung the Nazi with an awesome release German suplex! Chris landed directly on his bald, Nazi head!

[Up to his feet, Zimdela begins kicking and stomping on Chris' neck, which is being held tightly by Chris himself. Bouncing off the ropes, Zimdela returns with a kneedrop, landing across Chris' spine, most likely doing more damage to him. Hoisting Chris up, Zimdela wraps his right arm around Chris' head, grabs his tights and lifts him vertically up into the air.]

Lex Robinson: Zimdela is letting all the blood rush to Chris' head.

Steve Hebert: From his cock to his head... this is going to take a while.

Lex Robinson: Blammo! A brainbuster sends Chris' head straight onto the mat!

Steve Hebert: Jesus; he's probably 2 inches shorter as a result of that.

Lex Robinson: No doubt. Laughing at Chris' misfortunate, Zimdela rolls on top of him, hooking a leg in the process.

Steve Hebert: Kickout! See, Lex, see?! It's all good. Chris is still good to go.

Lex Robinson: I noticed; but one can only wonder how much more he can take.

Steve Hebert: Pffft. He's a machine.

[Upset, Zimdela forearms Chris' head, pancaking him onto the mat. Holding him up, he dumps him to the floor, allowing Gwenivere to walk over to him and start kicking and stomping at him.]

Lex Robinson: And there goes Gwenivere once more!

Steve Hebert: With all of those stomps and whips, she reminds me of a woman on fire.

Lex Robinson: After some time, she lifts Chris up and throws him back into the ring -- penis and all.

Steve Hebert: She literally grabbed him by the balls and threw him inside. That's my kind of woman.

Lex Robinson: Peering at the fallen Chris Extreme, Zimdela Brudon stands over him, mocking him out loud. He hunches over and is about to pick him up, when Chris grabs him by the pants and pulls him to the floor.

Steve Hebert: Oh shit. Zimdela has landed on his back. Luckily, Gwenivere is there to help him up, dust him off and give him a light spanking with the whip.

Lex Robinson: Go figure. Now that's fair. ...Not that I'm taking up for Chris Extreme or that I'm a Nazi or anything.

Steve Hebert: Right. I'm French-Canadian, so I may as well be a Nazi. With that said, go Chris, go!

Lex Robinson: On the furthest part of the ring, right in front of us, Chris Extreme is pulling himself to his feet.

Steve Hebert: He's a naked man, Lex. Watch how you phrase that.

Lex Robinson: I am. Chris is up and turns around to see Zimdela re-entering the ring. Wanting to lob Chris' head off, Zimdela swings a clothesline at him, forcing Chris to duck down, strap his arms around Zimdela's waist and swinging backdrop driver him! Now Zimdela is dumped on his head! What a turnaround!

Steve Hebert: Chris is getting to his feet and is even delivering some knees of his own to Zimdela's neck.

Lex Robinson: Like I said, Steve, this is quite the turnaround. Both men want to walk out of here with the SW World Title, which amazingly enough, has been resurrected by Zimdela after it had been bounced around Sentinels of Insanity members.

Steve Hebert: It's not like he ever defended it, though. Not to take anything away from him -- he's a busy man with a lot of other titles to defend and some business to produce -- but come on. The booking totally fucked him over.

Lex Robinson: Shush. We're not supposed to talk about this on air.

Steve Hebert: Oh, fine! We'll just talking about the exhilariting chinlock Chris has applied to Zimdela's neck!

Lex Robinson: It'd be better than possibly having us fired. Do you want Rosie Palmer and Charley Manson out here again?!

Steve Hebert: Good lord no. Talk about a living nightmare.

Lex Robinson: Exactly. So, hush and pay attention to the match, which currently has Chris Extreme in control of things. Picking Zimdela up, he even manages to get in some kneelifts, striking the Sentinels member across the bridge of his nose several times.

Steve Hebert: Closer inspection shows that Zimdela's nose is either a) broken, or b) he has some weird looking boogers. Most likely the latter.

Lex Robinson: No... no, I think it's the former. Chris' knees struck him over and over several times -- with each shot catching him directly on target. Speaking of Chris' knee, he bounced off the ropes and returned with a high right knee to Zimdela's nose, knocking him flat on his back! Rolling to the floor, Zimdela shows signs of frustration!

Steve Hebert: And I don't blame him. Of course, he is consoled by the ever-lovely Gwenivere. The Tag Team Champions obviously do not want Chris Extreme getting away with anything.

Lex Robinson: [muttering under his breath] So much for those lumberjack rules...

[When Zimdela goes to crawl back in, he is met with a baseball slide dropkick from Chris Extreme, knocking him back into the steel railing. Sliding to the floor, he goes right after him, smashing his face off the steel steps and body slamming him on the concrete floor. He's about to continue with more damage, but Gwenivere interrupts him with a sharp leather-whip to Chris' lowerback.]

Lex Robinson: Did you hear that?!

Steve Hebert: Indeed I did. I cringed until I came. That definitely had to leave a welt across Chris' back.

Lex Robinson: Turning around, a furious Chris Extreme focuses his attention on Gwenivere Jordan. She goes to whip him again, but he grabs her wrist, stopping her from proceeding. She goes to strike him with her other hand -- her left -- but Chris catches that one, as well! And what's this? He's puckering up!

Steve Hebert: Oh man. Chris is so going to get laid. Hell, he's already naked, so we're halfway there!

[Against Gwenivere's wishes, her lips are pressed against Chris's; his tongue invading her mouth.]

Steve Hebert: Things are getting hot and heavy here!

Lex Robinson: Luckily for Gwenivere, Zimdela Brudon was able to crawl up behind him and catch Chris with a variation of a lowblow.

Steve Hebert: What Lex is trying to say is that Zimdela crept up behind him, grabbed Chris' nutsac and yanked down on his balls.

Lex Robinson: Ditto. Whatever the case may be, Zimdela now picks Chris up into a back suplex position, only to whip in crotch-first on the cold, hard steel railing. After some instruction, Zimdela prompts Gwenivere to furiously and repeatedly whip Chris, leaving some blood-red marks on his chest.

Steve Hebert: Fuck that. I'm more worried about his testicles being dropped on that rail! He'll never be able to raise baby Nazis now!

[Making a few steps back, Zimdela stops in his tracks and speeds forward, sending Chris sprawling off the railing with a hard-hitting clothesline. As fast as that occured, Chris' re-entry in the ring happens twice as fast, as Zimdela picks him up and heaves him inside like a sack of potatoes.]

Lex Robinson: Zimdela's rolling in after the champion. Standing up on the second turnbuckle, he watches Chris slowly squirm. Wanting to put the Nazi out of his misery, Zimdela leaps off, squashing on top of his opponent with a butt-splash!

Steve Hebert: Well Jesus. Chris Extreme has just been forced to eat Zimdela's asshole... or so it seems.

Lex Robinson: He even remains in a seated-position on Chris' chest. He's demanding the referee to make the count, which the referee obliges. Here we go...

Steve Hebert: He's going to retain and keep his title streak!

Lex Robinson: ...One...

Lex Robinson: Two...

Lex Robinson: Chris shoves Zimdela off!

Steve Hebert: Well shit. Maybe not.

[Not liking the referee's count, Zimdela slowly gets to his feet and looks towards the entrance, where Draco and Casanova are finally making their way down, having leather straps attached to their wrists.]

Lex Robinson: Uh oh.

Steve Hebert: There they are.

[The cameras focus in on Zimdela, who is smiling smugly at their appearance. Turning around, he goes right back to work on Chris, giving him a taste of his own medicine, striking him with repeated kneelifts. Backing him against the ropes, Zimdela Irish-whips him across the ring and once he returns, he ducks down, only to receive a stiff kick to the jaw from Chris Extreme.]

Lex Robinson: Chris fires back! He's not out yet!

Steve Hebert: What's even better is that he pulls Zimdela in to a standing headscissors, claws his back and spike piledrives Zimdela onto the mat! The World Champion is hurting! Laying across him, Chris makes the cover...

Lex Robinson: The referee is counting...

[Before the count can proceed, Casanova reaches into the ring, grabs Chris Extreme by his foot and pulls him out of the ring; having his penis rub against the mat, in the process.]

Lex Robinson: Casanova stops that! Right away, he starts whipping at Chris. He's joined by Gwenivere and Draco, who begin striking away at every inch of his body!

Steve Hebert: Suffice to say, things are not looking good for Chris Extreme.

[Suddenly, the attention of everyone turns towards the entrance, where there seems to be some sort of ruckus brewing.]

Lex Robinson: Desperately trying to fight away his attackers, Chris sends a boot to Draco's gut, which does nothing -- as he has Gwenivere and Casanova still to contend with.

Steve Hebert: He tries to send an elbow to Gwenivere's face, but Casanova stops him, wraps the leather strap around Chris' arm, spins him around and punches him in the jaw! Poor Chrishy!

Lex Robinson: Wait a second... what's going on here? It's Dontam Dyce, Mike Phantasy and Johnny Legend! What are they doing out here?!

Steve Hebert: Uh... attacking Draco, Casanova and Gwenivere Jordan. What the shit?

[Not long ago, Dontam and Mike were beating the life out of each other in the ring, but now they're joined by Johnny Legend, who makes his return literally from nowhere.]

Lex Robinson: What the hell is Johnny Legend doing out here?! And why are all three men wearing white t-shirts with a red Nazi symbol?! And why is there a Nazi symbol shown on the SW-screen?!

Steve Hebert: [slaps his forehead] Idiot! It's obvious, don't you think?! The Nazis are invading!

Lex Robinson: Oooohhh... wait, what?

Steve Hebert: Mike, Dontam and Johnny are aiding Chris -- they're with him!

Lex Robinson: But... but... but... Dontam's black, for crying out loud!

[Despite Lex's confusion, Dontam beats down Gwenivere Jordan, Johnny Legend struggles with Draco and Mike Phantasy and Casanova go toe-to-toe. Amongst the punches, leather straps and stiff shots, Chris Extreme is able to slide back into the ring, where Zimdela Brudon is slowly getting to his feet, shocked at what's happening around the ringside area.]

Steve Hebert: Man, Zimdela is about as mind-fucked as you are, Lex.

Lex Robinson: It's official! Everyone has lost their goddamn mind!

Steve Hebert: Wait, look closely, Lex. What's written on those shirts?

Lex Robinson: Uhm... well, under the Nazi symbol the words "Master Race" can be seen...

Steve Hebert: Exactly! Is this what Chris Extreme has been alluding to these past few weeks?!

Lex Robinson: I have no idea! I'm just fucking clueless!

Steve Hebert: That's certainly true.

[Back in the ring, both combatants steadily climb to their feet, with Zimdela the first person up. Stalking over Chris Extreme, he goes to lift him up, only to receive a headbutt to the groin from Chris. Seconds later, he hooks Zimdela's right arm, hoists him up into the air and drops him face-first onto the mat with a gourdbuster.]

Lex Robinson: With anarchy happening on the floor, Chris Extreme drops Zimdela Brudon on his face, gets to his feet and starts stomping the life out of him. This is some messed-up stuff. The Sentinels are fighting Mike Phantasy, Dontam Dyce and Johnny Legend right in front us; Chris Extreme is taking Zimdela Brudon are just brawling and pounding the life out of one another; and Steve Hebert is drinking hard liquor! Absolutely insane!

Steve Hebert: You got that right. Not wasting any time on working Zimdela over some more, Chris Extreme picks him up, backs him into the corner, climbs to the second rope and begins pounding the life out of him with some fists. One... two... four... eight... ten... you know the drill!

Lex Robinson: He's going all-out, now. Wait, Zimdela is stopping this... by biting Chris in the testicles!

Steve Hebert: [spitting his liquor everywhere] Oh, dear lord. I don't know if I want to laugh, cry or vomit. Probably all three.

Lex Robinson: He's just gnawing away on them, while Chris is literally yelping out in pain! Tucking his arms around Chris' waist, he applies a bearhug and begins ascending the turnbuckles. You know what this means?!

Steve Hebert: Do I ever! The Very Best in Pain! From a testicle bite to the Very Best in Pain, Zimdela surely knows how to seriously ruin a man.

Lex Robinson: If he hits this, we're just seconds away from the champion retaining his World Title! He's on the top rope now, with Chris hanging from him...

[Realizing Chris' predicament, Dontam pushes away from Gwenivere Jordan, heaving her over the ring railing. Jumping up onto the apron, while the referee is distracted by Casanova and Mike Phantasy's brawling, Dontam hooks onto Zimdela's right foot, disabling him from leaping off the top rope.]

Lex Robinson: Dontam Dyce is refusing to let go of Zimdela, who is trying to kick him off. Things are getting shaky up on that top rope.

Steve Hebert: Plus Chris Extreme's genitals are rubbing against Zimmy's belly! Dear God almighty.

Lex Robinson: Seeing an opening Chris starts punching at Zimdela's skull, hoping to break free. Knowing that his task is complete, Dontam hops down, rejoining the big brawl at ringside. We're on the brink of something big, Steve...

Steve Hebert: Zimdela is leaping off! He's going to give The Very Best in Pain to Chris Extreme!

Lex Robinson: No, it's going to be the Fear Factor!

Steve Hebert: Good fuck no! Zimdela has Chris locked and ready...

[BANG! Both men fall to the mat...]

Lex Robinson: It was the Fear Factor! I told you so! I told you so!

Steve Hebert: Uh... Chris jammed Zimdela's face into his cock! I think he just poked his eye out!

Lex Robinson: Chris rolls Zimdela over; the count is made...

Steve Hebert: This is it...!

Steve Hebert: Three-count! Holy shit, Chris has done it!

[Hoping to break the count before the three, Draco slides into the ring, wanting to chase Chris off. Unfortunately, he is seconds too late and Mike, Dontam and Johnny Legend all roll in with him. Soon after, they are joined by Casanova and Gwenivere, who climbs over the ring railing, re-entering the frey.]

Lex Robinson: Jesus Christ... Chris Extreme is the new World Champion, but we have a riot going on in the ring!

Steve Hebert: Someone's going to get killed... yup...

[Gwenivere violently whips Chris Extreme across the face, prompting him to chase after her. Gwenivere charges to the back, with Chris in hot-pursuit, leaving his World Title behind.]

Lex Robinson: What an insane night! New champions, challenges, exits, entrances, barbed-wire...

Steve Hebert: And don't forget that loveable guy from Full House!

Lex Robinson: Uhh... with a brawl still happening in the ring, we've got to depart. Here comes security, finally spreading these two factions apart...

[At least 10-15 security guards are shown entering the ring, doing their best to keep all entities seperate from each other. As this happens, the Sin Wrestling logo appears in the bottom right corner of the screen and the image fades out...]

Voice: ...Gwennnn...

[She stopped in mid-footstep as he kept her luggage in hand this time. It was inevitable that she was going to be attacked, and that wasn't what was scaring her half to death. It was the sneaky feeling of that inevitable moment coming when she least expected it. She head a car door slam and her head shifted to the right, but just then..]

Voice: ...GWEEEENNNN...

[A loud scream shot into her left ear as she tried to turn her head, but before she could possibly make a single bone wiggle, her body is lifted off the ground, as if a linebacker was charging into her. Her eyes were shut and she could feel the wind collapsing at her face as it tried to blast its way past her. Her back suddenly cracked against the backside of a car; her eyes opened. It was Chris Extreme, pinning her shoulders against the backseat window. Gwen showed no emotion on her face as she squinted her eyes. Extreme, violently panting and shooting a manical smile her way, slammed her left shoulder into the car.]

Chris Extreme: You think you can just get away with anything you want, Gwen? You think you can keep being this tough, sneaky little bitch without even an INCH of reprocussion? I know what THEY'RE up to, watching me constantly so I can't sleep. YOU'RE ONE OF THEM, I KNOW IT!!!!

[Gwen couldn't speak. It was almost as if she was shellshocked by everything going on, but you'd never guess that through her blank stare. Extreme laughed hysterically as he wound his left fist back, anticipating splitting Gwen's face in half, but, before he could push his fist into Gwen's skull he noticed something in the backseat of the car they were against. A man, shaking violently, with a plastic-bag over his face, suffocating him. Extreme let go off Gwen and tried to open up the door, but alas, it was locked.]

Chris Extreme: Who the fuck is in there? And who the fuck dares to mess with the Master Race's new World Champion?!

[Gwen looked closer and closer and could almost make out the face through the bag. Extreme punched the door and continues to make attempts at opening the door. Extreme glanced at Gwen to make sure she didn't run away and then looked over at the backseat again, which was now vacant. There was no longer a guy in the backseat with a plastic bag over his head.]

Chris Extreme: ...What the Hitler?

[Extreme bowed over and looked into the window, only to get a fist full of glass shattered into his eyes. A gold bank shined on the man's middle finger as he kicked open the door and jumped out. Gwen gazed, with a devil's mistress smirk painted across her face, as she watched Lucius Pendragon, the former newcomer of the month, come out of nowhere to help an old friend. Lucius, dressed down in a black trenchcoat and black pants, picked up Extreme by his ears and shot a look of acrimony into his eyes.]

Lucius Pendragon: You just made a life-altering decision, Extreme. Never lay your hands on a Sentinel, you mother fucker.

[Without further adieu, Lucius sends Extreme's skull into the driver's seat window, shattering the glass into a million pieces. A faint cheer of those still in attendance could be heard as Lucius turns his head and stares at Gwen, who gives Lucius an oblique smile, with Lucius shooting one right back as the scene slowly faded to black.]