Before tonight's event begins, the fans in attendance are privy to an extra match. Newcomer, "The New Dragon" Justin Turner and Andrew "Enhancement Talent" Keller are out to the ring, giving the fans a special treat.

Turner starts things out with dominance, taking Keller down with ease. He uses his mixed martial arts skills to bring Keller down to the mat, where he begins a ground and pound technique. Keller is immediately struck with a flurry of knees, forearms and strikes; eventually lifted to his feet, only to be brought back down against with a belly-to-back suplex!

After a miscue by Justin Turner, walking into a simple eye poke from Keller, he is taken off-balance, allowing him to hit Turner with a powerslam. However, Keller's own ineptitude and clumsiness soon results in Turner regaining the advantage, allowing him to apply a Dragon Sleeper!

In a attempt to escape this hold, Keller grabs the ropes, but is brought down by an STO and has a Dragon's Rage Triangle Chokehold applied! Within seconds, he is tapping out, giving the newcomer, Justin Turner, the victory.

After the match, Justin Turner celebrates in front of the crowd, while Andrew Keller remains in the ring, crying about his defeat, as usual.

WINNER: Justin Turner

In Boston, the snow ceased falling, but the streets were still up to several inches of the white powder. Fortunately for everyone, that wasn't going to stop Wonderland from pulling off an extravagant show. From a short distance away, a camera caught a red 2006 Chevrolet Corvette, its designated driver none other than Chelsea Pryce. She pulls into the parking lot and scans the area for an available parking spot.

Chelsea Pryce: The new kids on the block are always the last ones here... should've left New York City a day earlier. I might have been one of the first to arrive.

Her eyes noticed an available spot and she smiled, attempting to veer for it as quickly, yet carefully, as possible.

Kelvin Coolidge had stayed the week in New York since his tryst with Stevie Swing was filmed, uploaded to the Internet, and mass burned to every digital media in existence. Locked away in his hotel room, he avoided the knocks at his door, the steady stream of voicemail messages from his agent, his publicist, and his PR rep. The greater injustice in his eyes was not the violation of his privacy, but that he wasn't seeing a dime of income from getting railroaded by Stevie in Hi-Def.

It took a fifth of a bottle of Tequila and a handful of OxyCodone to stave off the onset of a panic attack as he drove a rented Buick LeSabre. The letter in his hand was from Sin Wrestling, asking him to be present for a live show in Boston. Already being suckered back into a life he wanted to leave alone, he juggled looking at his GPS, listening to music, and texting on his cell phone, as he narrowly avoided a gang of paparazzi that waited in the parking lot of the arena.

Kelvin Coolidge: Oh, great.

Chelsea couldn't help her curiosity as to why a gang of paparazzi were swarmed about in the parking lot. How excited could they be for Wonderland? Or was something else on their minds? Either way, she ignored it for the time being and reached the parking spot--

SLAM!

A Buick LeSabre rear-ended her Chevrolet Corvette from nowhere and it threw her off guard. Her tension spikes as she set up the emergency brake and gasps.

Chelsea Pryce: What the fuck?! Who the hell...

The airbag before her cuts her off, but she put her arms up in the nick of time, groaning.

Chelsea Pryce: Holy crap, who slammed the back of my car!?

Pushing against the airbag and rolling her eyes, she presses a button and the airbag returns back into the steering wheel. She swings open the door, steps out and makes her way towards the other car, irately tapping on the window.

Chelsea Pryce: You better have some fucking insurance, asshole...

The paparazzi were all over them like a swarm of angry killer bees. The only thing in Kelvin's mind at the point of impact was "Thank goodness, it's a rental" and not for the safety or well-being for those that surround him. Paparazzi must have been notified of the car he was driving. The crash also gives him a small amount of satisfaction thanks to several cameramen having to dive out of the way of his swerving vehicle. Lighting a cigarette, he unbuckles himself, and exits the car, completely ignoring the woman who wears an angry glare, while surveying the damage. The reporters clamored around them.

Reporter 1: Kelvin, are you back in Sin Wrestling now?

Reporter 2: How much were you paid for the sex tape, Kelvin?

Reporter 3: Is this your girlfriend, Kelvin?

Turning back to the woman, he blinked at her through his sunglasses and inhaled on his cigarette.

Kelvin Coolidge: It's not polite to curse at people.

Chelsea Pryce: Fuck your face.

She wasn't too keen on the reporters, especially the one that inquires about her being Kelvin's girlfriend. Shooting a glare in his direction, she whips out her own pair of sunglasses, putting them on to reduce the endless amounts of flashes from the cameras.

Report 2: Should we expect a new sex video soon, Kelvin? More cocks, yes?

Reporter 4: Hey, you were with Kerry Windsor this past Monday morning, Chelsea.

Chelsea Pryce: Oh my god, shut the fuck up and go away, all of you.

Attempting to ignore the lot of them, she turned on her heels and faces Kelvin once more.

Chelsea Pryce: Your fanbase needs to go and your fucking insurance needs to pay up.

Sensing her discomfort at being surrounded by reporters, Kelvin embraces the limelight and raises his sunglasses. Hopping up on the front end of his mashed-in hood, he sits and begins to point at the crowd of reporters.

Kelvin Coolidge: Well, now, I don't know if I'm coming back to Sin Wrestling, just yet.

Gesturing to Chelsea, who still has not introduced herself, he continues.

Kelvin Coolidge: I mean, if this and Kerry Windsor is the best Sin can do, they might as well call themselves TNA, am I right?

The jab got a laugh from several of them.

Kelvin Coolidge: Next question.

Reporter 3: Are you planning on making a sequel?

Kelvin Coolidge: That may be in the works, but only if Chelsea says yes and it after I beat her in a match on the same day, just so I can say that I "pinned" her twice in twenty-four hours.

The crowd explodes with laughter, completely consumed with Kelvin's hubris and apparent lack of concern for any injuries Chelsea may have suffered. The discomfort in front of the paparazzi has now became the last thing on Chelsea's mind. Kelvin may have been on a roll with jabs and jokes, but she certainly wasn't taking this as lightly as he was. Even her cheeks were flustered red, in humiliation, with what this man was throwing at her.

Chelsea Pryce: You fucking disrespectful son of a bitch. I should fucking kill you, you...

But coming into close encounters, especially without his sunglasses, she saw in his eyes the truth of the matter. The overwhelming scent of alcohol didn't help, either.

Chelsea Pryce: ...For the love of fuck, you're drunk. DUI-loving bastard. I think I'm gonna call the police.

Kelvin waves off her threat and opens his wallet, flashing her a badge and then tosses a wad of 100 dollar bills onto the hood, while looking into her eyes.

Kelvin Coolidge: Don't worry about it; I'm a volunteer sheriff. And as for "criminal charges" or "admitting fault", don't bother. Paparazzi is at fault for this accident, so if you'd like to wear a neckbrace, scream like an idiot and bloodstain your panties for the next three weeks trying to get a lawyer to hear what's obviously already on tape, go ahead. But until then, do yourself a favor and save your tears for when you need them. Like after every match you'll ever be in.

The paparazzi is eating it all up. Unfortunately, "Mother Nature" wasn't amused for a second of this so-called entertainment. Although she was trying to keep her temper in check, it was inevitable that she grew furious. Lo and behold--

Chelsea Pryce: ...I'm going to kill you. Right now.

--she did. The reporters and cameramen collectively gasp. They're expecting a fight to break out at any second, the flashes continuing to go off for Chelsea and Kelvin. Despite being dressed in winter clothing, she clenches her fists and grits her teeth.

Chelsea Pryce: Clearly you love the attention and the spotlight. You've come back to Sin Wrestling one way or another. Why not give these people a show? You and me, a brawl out here on the streets. Screw authorization or approval; we're not followers of the rules. Let's go.

As soon as the words spill from her lips, Kelvin reaches in with his hands and holds her face to his, giving her tender kiss that was less than ten seconds, but seems like an eternity. Cameras flash and people go silent. Even if he was slightly stunned at his own impulsiveness, he caresses her cheek and whispers in her ear.

Kelvin Coolidge: ...I'm sorry.

And with that, he turns from her, making his way into the building. The entirety of that particular turn of events is a bewilderment in itself. Chelsea did not seen any of it coming-- not the kiss, not the apology, none of it. He leaves her in silence, lips parted to say something; but not a word was the result. That kiss was one of impulse; it meant nothing, right? ...Yet her cheeks were still red, perhaps not of humiliation, but of surprise and wonderment. After a few moments of camera flashes and in-crowd talk between the reporters, she finally speaks, barely above a whisper.

Chelsea Pryce: ...Christ, what was that...?

Ignorant of the damages, she can only watch Kelvin disappear into the building, without another word or movement.

The lights in the arena dim as the SW-Screen lights up signaling the entrance of the youngest Sin Wrestling Hall of Famer.

Same Old Story

The words illuminate the screen for several seconds and fog begins to roll onto the stage and entrance ramp, as the initial notes of Foo Fighters’ “The Pretender” creep out of the speakers.

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began

As the word “began” is spoken, the music cuts and the words on the SW-Screen fade slowly into the darkness. As soon as the last trace of them disappears, the screen erupts in a barrage of blurred color and the drums kick back in.

Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones come marching in... again
The need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are at the ready
Are you ready?
I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance

Slowly, the house lights are raised.

Spinning infinity, boy
The wheel is spinning me
It's never-ending, never-ending
Same old story

Finally, Mike Phantasy emerges from the fog greeted by a jeering crowd, dragging a referee to the ring, holding him by the scruff of the neck.

Lex Robinson: Welcome to Wonderland, everybody! What a show we have for you tonight.

Steve Hebert: Hey, hey-- we just had Kelvin Coolidge return, of all people! What's he doing here?!

Lex Robinson: Yes, but Mike Phantasy is coming to the ring, dragging a referee with him, too. He's set to fight Chris Extreme for the World Title, in a Street Fight Match. That's supposed to be tonight's main event, but he's out here right now!

Steve Hebert: Mike is pissed. He wants to get things started. Quite frankly, I don't blame him.

Lex Robinson: We have so much to get to. I don't think he should be out here. It's going to be a busy night! We need to get right down to things.

Steve Hebert: Fuck that. Mike has important business. Seriously imporant business. Important serious business.

Strolling towards ringside, he rolls the referee inside, walks around the ring and snatches a microphone out of the hands of the ring announcer. Stepping into the ring, he moves into the middle of the ring, being berated by the referee.

Steve Hebert: What does he have to say? Listen, Lex. Be quiet and listen.

Lex Robinson: I... I... I'm not saying anything.

Steve Hebert: Well, good! Shut up, then.

Lex Robinson: Fine!

Holding the microphone up to his mouth, Mike begins to speak, almost being drowned out by a horde of boos.

Mike Phantasy: Chris Extreme... get out here!

Lex Robinson: What?! He's calling out Chris Extreme right now!

Steve Hebert: Goddamn right.

Lex Robinson: Can we start things right now? Is that what he wants? I mean... he's got the referee out here.

Steve Hebert: Of course he wants to start fighting now!

Mike Phantasy: I mean it! Get out here now, you son of a bitch!

The fans continue to lay into Mike Phantasy, pounding him with jeers. Paying no attention to these taunts, he continues to focus on the entrance, wanting Chris Extreme to come out.

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy has called out the World Champion!

Steve Hebert: Aw, shit. It's on now. Get that faggot out here. It's fightin' time.

A loud, thunderous explosion occurs, and "Goodbye Horses" by Q Lazzarus blasts over the airways, immediately igniting the arena into cheers. Stepping out from the pink smoke is the World Champion, Chris Extreme, wearing a pink, sparkling robe.

With the crowd in a cheering frenzy, Chris struts down to the walkway. He blows some kisses at his adoring fans, and teases the front row by winking at them and shaking his tits.

Steve Hebert: My God, this is sickening. I think I'm erect. Errr... uh...

Lex Robinson: Say what?

Steve Hebert: I just can't help myself. What a scumbag I am.

Lex Robinson: Wait just a second--...

As Chris turns around, having listened to the audience's cheers, he walks right into a running high-knee kick from Mike Phantasy, who had leapt out of the ring and charged straight towards him!

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy has left the ring and is attacking Chris Extreme, the World Champion!

Steve Hebert: Haha, awesome. I don't know who fell to the floor harder: Chris Extreme or the World Title that was around his shoulder!

Lex Robinson: I'm sure Mike's knees struck even harder than all of that! Mike is making the cover, already! What the heck?

Steve Hebert: It's a streetfight, which also means falls will count anywhere! Do your job, ref!

The referee, who is on the scene, stumbles around and drops down, making the pinfall.

Steve Hebert: Here we go!

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: No! Chris kicks out!

Steve Hebert: Mike isn't going to like that.

Lex Robinson: Certainly not. In fact, he lifts Chris up, punches him in the chops a few times and then bashes his face off the ring railing! Good lord, he's even choking him across the railing, while elbowing him across the back of the head!

Steve Hebert: Kill that weird motherfucker. Chris Extreme used to be cool; but now he wants to be Morgana. That's just whorish and disgusting. I hope he gets the same AIDS Morgana got. Fuck him and his stupid pink hair.

Lex Robinson: The fans love his pink hair! And how dare you, Morgana is in semi-retirement!

Steve Hebert: Does it look like I give a shit? No, no, it really doesn't. Besides, Chris Extreme does his little flips, showing off his floppy ballsac... it's just disgusting. How can you like that?!

Lex Robinson: Uh, different strokes for different folks?

Steve Hebert: Are you goddamn kidding me? He's a nutcase and should be through in the nuthouse. To even compare himself to Morgana -- who I admit, is great -- is just outlandish.

Lex Robinson: Uh, Chris is a Hall of Famer and world renound athlete. You weren't saying any of this when he was constantly praising Hitler, or beating people with his penis; or even when he'd cheat and destroy his way to the top.

Steve Hebert: Do we have to go over this, again? Like I told you last week, people change. Get over it. And with the position Chris is in right now, there'll be no changing for him, as Mike is beating the life out of him with some kicks on the stage, tossing him through the curtain and to the back.

Lex Robinson: And we're off to the backstage area! Let's get the camera following them!

The huffing and puffing of a fat cameraman is heard following after the two combatants, following them to the back.

Steve Hebert: There they are; brawling in the back, fighting like motherfuckers. Hit him, Mike, hit him... or her... or whatever the fuck Chris Extreme is nowaways. How disappointing.

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy has Chris Extreme jammed against the wall and is kicking him in the kidneys. However, Chris isn't going to take that. Shrugging off the damage, he stumbles forward, grabs a steel chair and flings it overhead, sending it hurdling towards Mike Phantasy's head!

Steve Hebert: Mike drops down to his hands and knees, though! The chair goes flying into the camera, nailing the cameraman, who falls to the ground! Haha, holy Jesus. What a fat, useless faggot. He's even worse than me.

With the camera laying on the floor, the last image it shows is that of Chris Extreme kicking Mike in the nuts and then hitting a stunner on him! He makes the cover and referee drops down, making the count.

Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus... Mike Phantasy is covered...

Lex Robinson: The count is made! It's a Street Fight, as Steve said, this will count...!

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy kicks out!

Steve Hebert: Yes!

Lex Robinson: [speaking to someone in his ear] What's that...? We've got to...? Are you kidding me? We've got to start the next match?!

Steve Hebert: What?! Who is giving that order? Is it Corey Page? It's Corey Page, isn't it? Dear God, what a colossal dumbshit.

Lex Robinson: We're being given the order. Just as Chris Extreme begins pounding his crotch into Mike Phantasy's face! Son of a...! C'mon...

The image fades out, returning to the ringside area.

A huge roar rips through the arena here in Boston as the opening riff to Wanderlust blasts throughout. Jim Chambers steps out and smirks at the crowd. He brings his right fist up to his right shoulder and does almost like a cutthroat motion across his chest and starts to make his way down to the ring with a cocky strut. He encourages the boos, practically bathes in them as he walks down the aisle, he looks around at the crowd, smirking some more.

Lex Robinson: And now it's time for what very well may be the best match of the evening: six man tag team action, contested under Purity Title rules. The winner of this showcase is going to get themselves first seed in the upcoming Purity Title tournament.

Steve Hebert: Big stakes. We agree there for once. Winning here's going to get you a cushier path to the Purity Title, potentially against some cheesecake competition.

Chambers slides into the ring, climbs each turnbuckle, throws his arms up, just soaking in the boos and smirking. Finally, he struts to the corner and waits for his partners for the evening.

Steve Hebert: I'm gonna take issue with one thing you said, though..

As “Straight Out Of Line” by Godsmack hits over the PA, 2 gold lights focus on the entrance at the top of the stage, and 3 more cycle throughout the arena. At the end of the opening drum solo, "The New Classic" Dylan Forrester bursts through the entrance, seamlessly matching the music and roaring at the crowd, who roar back at him.

Steve Hebert: This is the best match of the evening? Look, these poor saps already bought tickets and/or already shelled out for the Pay-Per-View, we don't have to tell them that a match with Christian Kincaid and Chelsea Pryce is gonna be the match of the night.

After a few seconds, Dylan runs down to the ring and slides under the bottom rope. As soon as he gets to his feet, an internal calm takes over and Dylan’s face turns serious as he focuses on the match at hand.

Lex Robinson: These are talented athletes, and-...

Steve Hebert: I KNOW that, but look at this guy, Forrester. He is smugness fucking personified with his smug grin and his expensive threads. I'm hoping that Eric Andrews breaks his neck because I get douchechills whenever I look at him.

Lex Robinson: Dylan Forrester is a cool guy with a level head, and if you ask me, he's a welcome addition to this roster.

Steve Hebert: Yeah, but nobody asked you.

The arena’s lights suddenly go out. Chelsea Pryce’s voice resounds softly in accompaniment to the soft "we're at war" chants.

“Nature… superiority… they both exist in me…” At "I am outside", a spotlight shines on Chelsea standing atop of the entrance stage. She looks to her left and right, not only regarding the audience, but seemingly regarding the "worlds that don't belong" the song mentions. She then faces the ring, but she doesn’t approach it just yet, taking time to absorb the cheers the majority of the fans give her.

"Keep me safe inside
Your arms like towers
Tower over me... yeah!"

To make matters literal with these lyrics, along both sides of the ramp purple pyros that portray towers rise up as she walks down the ramp. Even the spotlight begins to flash on and off to match the following lyrics.

"We are broken
What must we do to restore our innocence
And oh, the promise we adore?
Give us life again
'Cause we just want to be whole!"

All the lights turn back on by the word "whole". She jumps onto the apron and climbs through the ropes into the ring, removing her sunglasses and looking to the fans that continue to cheer her on. With a smile, she pulls her fingerless gloves down, punches her fist into her open palm and a burst of purple pyro from the ring posts shoot up. After the music fades slowly, she takes off her jacket and sets it aside with her sunglasses, soon ready to go.

Lex Robinson: Chelsea Pryce is in the ring now, and we've seen plenty of her last week-...

Steve Hebert: Don't get me started on that snoozefest. Teresa Quaranta was just starting to win me over and then she subjects me to that travesty. How long does it take to say "they used to be friends, and they'll probably be fighting in a couple months"? Jesus. Now bring on the next team so we can get this show rolling.

The opening of Kamelot's "Ghost Opera" plays over the speakers and the lights turn purple, blue and green. The song kicks in, blasting over the speakers, and the lights flash around the arena crazily, and smokes come up from the ramp. Through the haze appears Valerie Lamb, with Christian Kincaid following just behind her. She waits until Roy Khan's vocals come in before making her way down the ramp, catching hands with some of the fans as she heads down to the ringside area, with Christian by her side the whole time. She gives Christian a quick kiss, and he rolls into the ring waiting for her.

Lex Robinson: Valerie Lamb and Jim Chambers fought to a double countout last week, and it didn't exactly resolve their disagreement from the show before - but with a chance at the top seed on the line tonight, they'll both be looking for something a little more definitive.

She walks over to the steps nearest the announce table, still catching hands with fans. She bounds the steel steps, then uses the momentum to bounce over the top rope and into the ring, and then onto the middle turnbuckle. She holds her hands at shoulder height for a few seconds, in a devil horn, before jumping back down and walking to her corner as the music fades out.

Lex Robinson: Valerie has to be pretty proud of the chance to accompany Sin Wrestling's Rochambeau Champion. I was entertained, he threw out a lot of innovative moves - he's going to need that same inventiveness if he's going to make it tonight!

The lights strobe white as 'I Dare You' by Shinedown begins to blare through the speakers. The fans begin to cheer as Eric Andrews appears from backstage and stands at the top of the ramp, holding his arms out and smiling at the crowd.

I dare you to tell me to walk through fire
Wear my soul and call me a liar
I dare you to tell me to walk through fire
I dare you to tell me
I dare you to

Eric begins walking down the ramp, shaking hands with the fans along the way, even stopping to take a picture with a young fan using their parent's camera. After the picture, Eric runs his hand through the kids hair and makes his way to the bottom of the ramp, stopping to point at one of the fan signs supporting him.

I dare you to tell me to walk through fire
Wear my soul and call me a liar
I dare you to tell me to walk through fire
I dare you to tell me
I dare you to

Eric runs now, leaping onto the apron and playing to the fans a little more, before hopping over the top rope. As Eric bounces across the ring, he takes off running across the ring, bouncing off the ropes, then bounces to stop himself in the middle of the ring, before shooting his arms out to his sides. The fans eat it up as Eric removes his shirt and moves to the corner as the music fades and the lights return to normal.

Lex Robinson: And that, in my mind, is the most exciting man in this ring! Eric Andrews grabbed a pinfall victory over Jim Chambers two weeks ago, thanks to being versed in multiple styles, hardcore, high-flying, he does it all.

Steve Hebert: I'd say he did it thanks to Valerie Lamb more than anything else, and this is a TECHNICAL wrestling bout. All of his flippy moves aren't going to help him here.

Lex Robinson: Well, they might impress the judges.

Steve Hebert: You don't think they've ever seen a moonsault before? Come on.

Lex Robinson: Now, for the folks at home, the following contest is a six person tag team match scheduled for ONE FALL and contested under PURITY RULES. There is a 15 -time limit and no rope breaks are allowed. If the time limit is reached, the match will go to judge's decision, in which 3 Sin Wrestling officials will declare the winner! And if a pinfall is made, the person that makes the pinfall will be awarded the #1 seed in the upcoming Purity Title tournament!

The bell rings and we are underway here in Boston, Massachusetts!

Lex Robinson: Look at this. We've got Forrester and Andrews starting the match as the bell rings -- a real mashup of styles here. Andrews, a very high-paced, exciting guy and The New Classic... isn't. They do give a handshake at the onset though, which is nice.

Forrester and Andrews begin the match and quickly tie-up. Surprisingly, Andrews gets out with the advantage, as he jabs Forrester in the ribs with a knee and leverages it into a snap suplex. Andrews handsprings back to his feet and spins around, and Forrester is still down on the mat, so Andrews pulls him up and whips him into the ropes. Forrester stumbles out of the whip and lands right into a spinning right hand that knocks him down to the mat.

Lex Robinson: Down he goes!

Steve Hebert: He's not the only person going down tonight.

Lex Robinson: What do you mean?

Steve Hebert: Hell if I know. I was just trying to sound poignant.

The crowd pops big as Andrews rolls to his feet again, kneeling down and wiggling his fingers, posing for the judges and the fans. He goes to the corner and makes like he's gonna tag out to Kincaid, but smooths his hands through his hair, yelling out "I got this!"

Lex Robinson: Eric Andrews... not lacking for confidence.

Steve Hebert: Forrester's already up!

The New Classic hits a big German Suplex, but it might be a little too big -- Andrews flips through it and lands on his feet. Dylan charges and Eric Andrews tries to go for an armdrag, but Dylan sees it coming and grabs the arm, twists it, and aims a nice kick to the side of the head.

Lex Robinson: Andrews ducks at the last second, breaking the arm twist, and goes for an amateur style takedown; but Forrester blocks it and shoves him backwards, and the two have a standoff to a nice round of applause from the fans. Who said Eric Andrews couldn't hang here? Not me.

Steve Hebert: That was me. Plenty of times.

The round of applause is broken up by Jim Chambers, who smacks Andrews in the back of the head. Pryce scowls at her partner, who just shrugs with a big grin.

Steve Hebert: See, now that's the kind of stuff I admire. Give him another slap.

Lex Robinson: The ref is giving Jim Chambers a stern warning, telling him that shenanigans WILL get his team DQ'ed tonight, as the Purity division isn't the venue for such antics.

"The New Classic" gives a little rough sportsmanship and pulls Andrews away from the corner, but then he hits a hard kick on Andrews and flips him with a nice looking rolling armbar. He looks around his corner to make a tag... and finally decides on Pryce, giving Chambers a dirty look as he makes the tag.

Lex Robinson: Just under thirteen minutes to go here. Chelsea Pyrce comes in...

However, just as she does, Eric Andrews leaps up, grabs her with a clinch and delivers a jawbreaker across the shin!

Lex Robinson: What I think we might see here is... a lot of pure wrestling from Pryce and Forrester, but this team of Andrews, Lamb and Kincaid are really on the same page, and that helps!

Steve Hebert: Yeah, Valerie doesn't look pissed that Eric stole the match from her a couple weeks ago. That's what friends are for, y'know?

Lex Robinson: Well, when you're friends with Eric Andrews, you can't take things too seriously, because he doesn't. It's just wrestling. Friendship is forever. You know, like our friendship.

Steve Hebert: Faggot.

Lex Robinson: Anyway, Andrews tagging out to Christian Kincaid... he's giving Pryce valuable time to recover and I really question tagging out here when his momentum is high.

Steve Hebert: ...

Lex Robinson: ...Neckbreaker from Kincaid--... wait, no... Pryce with the reversal into a Russian legsweep! Very nice. Now, she takes the leg and folds it into a modified figure four and leans back on it! This is almost like the Hailstorm except without that nasty damage to the neck. Kincaid is in a lot of trouble in this ring, right now! First submission of the night and he is in the middle of the ring!

Steve Hebert: ...K.

Lex Robinson: Time's counting down and Pryce is really powering that hold, Kincaid HAS to roll over here.

Steve Hebert: ...K.

Lex Robinson: What's wrong with you, Steve?

Steve Hebert: Thirty seconds ago, you said that it was bad strategy to tag out, and I just wanted to explain how fucking wrong you are. This match has a fifteen minute time-limit and the only reward outside of the thrill of fucking victory is a one seed. Notice the word ONE in there? Now, presumably, all six of these guys are going to enter in the Purity Title tournament... and if there's no pinfall tonight, everybody has an EQUAL chance of being the one seed. So, if you don't care who gets it, it's smarter to win this by decision. And you know how to do that? By keeping your fucking team fresh. Idiot.

Lex Robinson: ... Right. Okay, sheesh. Kincaid's legs have got to be destroyed by now. He's not tapping; but he can't quite roll, either. Chelsea Pryce looks more than satisfied pouring on the punishment. And finally the clapping from this crowd wills Kincaid to turn over! He pushes with his legs and sends Pryce into the ropes, and on the rebound he connects with an enziguiri!

With Pryce barely stirring, Kincaid drags her near a neutral corner and gets on the top rope. A big roar rises from the crowd and Chambers flips off the top... just in time to get absolutely crushed by a Busaiku Knee.

Lex Robinson: Boom, Headshot! Shades of Jack Darling there as Pryce might have been playing a little possum.

Steve Hebert: Who the crap is Jack Darling?

Lex Robinson: [ignoring Stevie] And she very methodically drags Kincaid to the center of the ring and locks on an STF! She is determined to take Kincaid's legs out from under him!

Steve Hebert: And he's not doing much a job of stopping her!

Lex Robinson: You know, you said they were going to have a conservative match here, and-...

Steve Hebert: SHUT UP. JUST SHUT UP. I swear to God.

Lex Robinson: You mad.

Slowly, Kincaid frees his arm and starts to throw elbows, but Chelsea lets him go immediately, not wanting to fight on the ground. Kincaid shows some sudden life, springing up and hooking into a full nelson, but if he was hoping to slow the pace of the match, it didn't work. Chelsea Pryce reverses it into a hangman's neckbreaker.

Lex Robinson: That's gotta impress the judges! We've got nine minutes left by the way. And now a cover from Chelsea Pryce...

...1...2...

Steve Hebert: Hell nah!

Lex Robinson: Kincaid just barely rolls a shoulder up!

Pryce pulls him up and goes for a short-arm clothesline, but it's blocked! Instead, Kincaid counters with a left forearm and he gathers speed, taking time to really hammer away on her.

Lex Robinson: Pryce is deflecting a handful of these blows, but she has to just be hoping to ride out the storm here. He whips her off the ropes and delivers a back elbow. He then attempts another whip, but she reverses, crouches down, and then catches him on the rebound with a high angle back bodydrop. She clotheslines him to the canvas and pulls him up, continuing the assault. She smashes his head into a turnbuckle once, twice, three times -- and on the fourth, time Kincaid blocks it! This time, he counters with a back -elbow and makes his way to his corner. Wait... no! Chelsea Pryce with a chopblock and she folds him into another STF! Kincaid looks to be in trouble here!

Steve Hebert: No rope breaks are allowed! Is he gonna... is he gonna...

Lex Robinson: And he makes the tag to Valerie! That's one way to break a tag!

Valerie Lamb enters, nailing forearms to Chelsea's head!

Lex Robinson: If she wants her team to win, she's going to need to make up some ground. Valerie Lamb with a spinning scoop slam... then an elbow drop! She nails a few quick rights and lefts to Pryce!

Next, she Irish-whips Chelsea and lands a devastating front lariat.

Lex Robinson: Big moves from the redhead here, and she's signaling for a figure four on Pryce!

Steve Hebert: It'd be nicer if she'd make a big move on my mule.

There's a nice cheer from the crowd as Valerie hooks the hold in and leans back...

Lex Robinson: Chelsea looks like she's been almost eletrocuted. Still, she's backing her way towards the ropes, slowly dragging Valerie with her. Lamb isn't really resisting... focusing instead on putting more pressure on the hold, since she can't get a rope break here, anyway.

Finally, Pryce grabs the bottom rope and pulls on it, leveraging herself up and through the ropes. She lands on the concrete with a splat, while Jim Chambers yells at her from the apron to get her ass back in the ring.

Lex Robinson: Jim with a demanding roar at Chelsea, wanting her to get back inside...

Steve Hebert: Dylan Foster... or Forster... or Robert Forster or whatever his name is just looks at the clock, counting down the time.

Lex Robinson: Seven minutes to go now.

Valerie Lamb goes after Chelsea, hitting her with forearms on the outside, while keeping a close eye on Chambers, who's talking massive amounts of trash from the outside of the ring. Finally, Valerie drags Chelsea back into the ring and goes for the Lamb to the Slaughter powerbomb! However, Pryce shows some life and reverses it!

Lex Robinson: Chelsea Pryce reverses the powerbomb attempt, rolling Valerie up into a hurricanrana, sending her face-first into the turnbuckles!

Steve Hebert: What does the hardcore cunt licking begin?

Lex Robinson: Stop it, Steve.

Chelsea presses her advantage here and shoves Valerie into the ropes, making her bounce back. Right away, Chelsea jumps up and brings Valerie down with a cutter!

Lex Robinson: Chelsea Pryce brings Valerie Lamb down! Valerie goes to rise, but Chelsea steps right in... only to be kicked in the stomach!

Steve Hebert: Kicked right in the ovaries.

Valerie runs into the corner and climbs to the top rope, hoping to hit an aerial attack. However, Chelsea is aware of this and decides to immediately run in and interrupt things...

Lex Robinson: A top rope brainbuster by Chelsea Pryce! That's "A Mother's Wrath"!

Steve Hebert: The Milf makes the cover!

The referee counts...

...1...2...3!

Lex Robinson: There are your winners -- Forrester, Chambers, and Pryce have won the match! Chelsea Pryce has a nice little bonus to look forward to, as well. She's the #1 seed in the Purity Title tournament!

She stumbles over to her shades and rolls out with only a brief nod of acknowledgement to the fans and her opponents and Forrester is out too, but Chambers is already calling for the microphone, despite boos and catcalls from the crowd.

Jim Chambers: Well... it wasn't quite Chamber Music, but it'll do the trick, won't it?

The crowd boos as Kincaid and Andrews help Valerie up.

Jim Chambers: Unfortunately, Boston didn't get to see me wrestle... but then again, that's OK, because you didn't deserve to see me wrestling anyway. Oh no, that's worth a whole 'nother Pay-Per-View! And even though I wasn't physically in that ring... my natural leadership and inspiration abilities played dividends. Lord knows Chelsea Pryce would have started making sandwiches or something in this ring if it wasn't for me telling her waht to do all night... in fact, you could say that I won this match... all by myself.

Lex Robinson: Oh, that's just ridiculous.

Steve Hebert: I don't know, having Jim Chambers on your team has got to give you more confidence than teaming with some jackass who cheats at Rock Paper Scissors.

Jim Chambers: So, when you three LOSERS have scraped yourselves off the canvas, don't bother seeing me for a rematch unless you're tired of the ringing in your ears and want to replace it with some good old... Chamber music.

He throws the mic down and books it, a mile wide grin on his face as Christian Kincaid shouts at him.

WINNER: Chelsea Pryce/Jim Chambers/Dylan Forrester

Backstage, in Boston's arena, deeper into the halls that house locker rooms of Sin wrestlers, Chelsea Pryce just barely settles down in hers. Dropping her gear bag before her feet, she begins stripping herself down to her black bra and lace panties, ignorant of the camera that's absorbing every inch of her body. If you've got it, flaunt it, right? Though she doesn't flaunt as much as be casual, unzipping her bag and retrieving her dark gray jeans. As she slides them on one leg at a time, there's an intrusive knocking on her door. Perhaps impulsively, one of her hands comes up and brushes over her lips, her mind still fixed on that absurd kiss from Kelvin Coolidge... she shakes her head and pulls her jeans up completely.

Chelsea Pryce: "The door's open."

The door swings open and standing in the doorway is the Sin Wrestling Television Champion, Kerry Windsor. He steps into the locker room and his eyes lock on Chelsea.

Kerry Windsor: Well, well, well, you really are a member of Sin. I thought you were just pulling my leg.

Chelsea turns her head to look at Kerry and shrugs, searching through her bag for more of her ring attire.

Chelsea Pryce: Why would I -- or my daughter, for that matter -- lie about that? Wrestling is my first passion... next to cooking, but that's getting away from the subject."

She pulls out an orange blouse that reads "Motherly" on the front and puts it in her gym bag. Next, she sits down on the floor and places a pair of black combat boots in the bag, as well.

Chelsea Pryce: So... what brings you to my locker room?

Kerry leans back against the wall and shrugs, his eyes still never leaving her.

Kerry Windsor: Nothing in particular, just got here. Decided to stop by, say hey and see if my number one fan was with you. She out there?

He nods his head towards the door. She glances up, looks towards the door, then at him for a few seconds.

Chelsea Pryce: I'm not allowing Rosalyn to be here or anywhere Sin decides to travel. The last time she was backstage in a wrestling arena, she was kidnapped by a power-hungry insane son of a bitch and... I'd rather not talk about it.

A frown crosses her face for a single second, but her face quickly becomes stoic again, in fear of showing any real emotions. Exposure had already been taken advantage of earlier tonight. She takes out a pair of black fingerless gloves and motions her upperbody back in a roll. Halfway through the roll, her hands press against the floor and she lifts up into a handstand, before casually, yet gracefully, getting back on her feet.

Chelsea Pryce: ...You seem like you're ready for a fight.

Kerry simply smirks. Whether he's impressed by her moves or not didn't show too much on his face, replying to the new subject.

Kerry Windsor: As ready as I'll ever be. Twenty million dollars can serve as some motivation. For me and Stevie both...

His voice trails off for a moment before he speaks up again.

Kerry Windsor: What are you doing after the show?

Chelsea Pryce: Wish I knew. My car's not in the best condition to drive anymore. We can all thank Kelvin for that...

She growls a little, almost to herself than anything else. Shaking her head, she pulls the right glove on first, her eyes veering over to him.

Chelsea Pryce: But, you know, money's not the most important thing. You say you don't care about the Television title. You've got twenty million reasons why you want to win your match, but none of them really let your reign as a champion shine. Such carelessness is gonna cost you, boy.

That's edging on condescending. Kerry stands quietly and lets silence linger between the two of them before he interrupts it.

Kerry Windsor: Words of wisdom from Mother Nature, huh?

Chelsea narrows her eyes and calmly places her gloves in her bag. However, she doesn't look away from Kerry.

Chelsea Pryce: For your sake, take my words seriously. Right now, you're just a professional wrestler whose just begun their quest for greatness. But if you don't treasure the championship you possess, you'll soon find that you have nothing to treasure. Don't act like an amateur.

She takes a few steps towards him, but doesn't get too close. Her words might not be sitting too well with him; there is a possible charge of irritation or anger. Then a hand reaches for the coat rack next to her and grabs a hold of her purple fuzzy letterman's jacket. She doesn't put it on yet, but she's slightly glowering.

Kerry Windsor: It's all just a means to an end, right?

He takes a step closer to her, perhaps touching on the borderline of her personal space.

Kerry Windsor: I mean, certainly you can understand that, right?

She's disgusted by his careless nature towards wrestling. Or is it something else? She puts her jacket on, then her left fist clenches a little and she swings towards his face. Fortunately for him, she doesn't make impact.

Instead she sharply backhands him with her right hand.

Chelsea Pryce: ...you have no right to call yourself a wrestler. You don't even have the right to be a wrestler. You're insulting the thousands of real wrestlers who bleed, sweat and cry for this passionate sport everyday of their lives. You make me sick, Windsor.

His last name is dressed in her venomous tone, yet he doesn't seem to react to the backhand. The only thing he offers is a tiny smile.

Kerry Windsor: Some things are more important than personal glory, Chelsea. The titles don't mean anything to me. As long as I can go out there and the fans appreciate me, I'm satisfied. Rosalyn doesn't like me because I'm the Television Champion. She likes me because I know how to entertain and I know how to put on a show. Title or no title, the fans are going to love me regardless, right?

He backs up and turns around, heading for the door. Just as he hits the doorway, he turns around and glances at her.

Kerry Windsor: And for your information, I'm an entertainer that just so happens to wrestle. I'll let you and the rest of the "wrestlers" around here indulge in your "oh I'M the greatest ever" cock measuring contests. Y'all can have all the passion you want... still doesn't mean you're better than me.

He says the last part with a shrug and a mocking chuckle as he walks out the door, leaving Chelsea to herself. She shakes her head, but right at that moment Kerry pops his head back into the room.

Kerry Windsor: Oh, a word of advice to you, new girl. If you want to be successful here in Sin... you're going to have to hit much harder than that. Got it?"

He winks at her and then disappears out the door once more. It takes everything in her power not to hunt him down and afflict him with severe pain. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and places her left hand over her forehead, her fingers brushing strands of her hair.

Chelsea Pryce: ...somehow I missed the "let's harass the new girl in front of the cameras" memo this morning. First Coolidge and then Windsor. Who's next, Redmaine? God no, I don't want the unpleasant surprise of finding C4 in my gear bag..."

Rolling her eyes, Mother Nature slides her sunglasses on over her nose and closes the door behind her on the way out.

Following the previous match, the image shifts to the backstage area, showing Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy still brawling, having their Street Fight Match. They are going after each other, not wasting a single second, with a referee hovering around, watching things like a vulture.

Lex Robinson: They're still fighting! No one has gotten a pinfall yet! We told you that if anything happens during another match, we'd cut right to this confontation; and we're going to hold that promise.

Steve Hebert: Good. Don't want to miss Mike Phantasy pinning Chris Extreme for those titties. Errr... I mean title. Chris has a fabulous set of titties, too, though. I mean, goddamn.

Lex Robinson: They're almost as big as yours!

Steve Hebert: Almost, but not quite. Chris has a lot of ice cream, chicken wings and pizza to eat before he can catch up with me.

Lex Robinson: Speaking of pizza, Mike Phantasy lifts up a steaming, hot pizza... and he hurls it at Chris Extreme! It splatters all over Chris's face, burning him!

Steve Hebert: Ouchies!

Chris Extreme: Augh...! My face!

Mike Phantasy: Your face? Your face, you son of a bitch? Is it burning? Good. Let it burn!

Chris attempts to claw all the pizza sauce and toppings such as pepperoni off his face; but before he can, Mike grabs him by the breasts and throws him face-first into the wall.

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy heaves Chris Extreme tits-first into the wall! Look at that bloody smear! I think Chris forgot to put in his male tampon.

Lex Robinson: That's pizza sauce, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Well, excuse me.

Mike Phantasy: Here. Let me help you out with that.

Mike reaches onto the nearby table, grabs a paper cup with Pepsi inside, takes a small sip and then splashes it into Chris Extreme's face.

Mike Phantasy: How about that, you prick? Huh?

Lex Robinson: Soda to the face!

Steve Hebert: Oh, it's going to get worse...

Lex Robinson: What's Mike doing, now? He's grabbing another bottle of something...

Steve Hebert: It's lemon juice! Oh God...

Showing no remose, Mike Phantasy throws some lemon juice into the eyes of the World Champion, who blindly sways about, feeling the burn.

Chris Extreme: Auuughhhh...!

Lex Robinson: That's gotta sting. Right in the eyes.

Steve Hebert: It wouldn't be the first time Chrisgana has gotten steamy liquid in the eyes, I'm sure.

Lex Robinson: But you used to love Chris!

Steve Hebert: Yeah, but then he died and the spirit of Morgana inhabited his body. Or something. Holy fuck, I don't know. He just showed up with tits one night and thought he was Morgana. The guy is fucking insane. How else do you explain it?!

Lex Robinson: He's a weird one.

Chris Extreme stumbles around, trying to wipe the lemon juice out of his eyes, with Mike Phantasy snickering at his expense. Giving Chris a few wicked knife-edge chops, Mike backs Chris against another catering table and bashes his skull off it.

Lex Robinson: Chris Extreme, the World Champion, is slammed against the table!

Steve Hebert: I think Mike tried to stuff him into that bowl of cookies.

Lex Robinson: If only he could be so lucky.

Steve Hebert: Goddamn right. Now what's happening?

Lex Robinson: Mike is backing up. He's measuring Chris up, trying to align him perfectly... here he goes...!

Steve Hebert: No! Chris ducks down and backdrops Mike Phantasy, sending him flying through the air!

Lex Robinson: As a matter of fact, Chris goes smashing through that catering table, sending milk, bananas, coconuts and avocados everywhere! Grunting, Chris stumbles over to another table, grabs a coffeemaker and walks over Mike, standing above him. Giving a surprised Mike some kicks, Chris yells at him.

Chris Extreme: Now it's your turn, cocksucker.

Steve Hebert: Oh no...

Tipping the coffeemaker glass upside down, Chris saliciously licks his lips, watching with glee, as the coffee splashes onto Mike Phantasy's chest, searing his flesh!

Steve Hebert: Listen to those cries of pain from Mike Phantasy! That's... that's awful! Have a heart, Chris Extreme!

Lex Robinson: Hey, this is "Falls Count Anywhere", which means anything goes. Mike Phantasy drew first-blood when he turned on Chris. He should have expected this.

Steve Hebert: It's like Chris is channeling the Chris Extreme of yesteryear. Good ol' Chris Extreme, you know?

Rolling around in agony, Mike tries to walk away from Chris and tear himself away from the broken pieces of the table. However, Chris follows after him, grabbing a pot and a pan, as well.

Lex Robinson: Throwing pots and pans at Mike, Chris is reminded me of my childhood.

Steve Hebert: Same here. Mom and dad would always go straight for the pots and pans when they'd fight. "Whoops, there goes the spaghetti on the wall", "whoops, there goes the macaroni and cheese". We get it, mom, you're pissed. Jesus.

Lex Robinson: We're having a psychoanalyzing moment tonight, folks.

Steve Hebert: God no. Pay attention to the match.

Lex Robinson: Oh, I am. I'm watching Mike Phantasy squeal like a little girl, as he crawls away from Chris Extreme, who is quick to follow him. Grabbing Mike by the foot, Chris drags him on the ground, having his burnt flesh grind against the cold, hard floor. There are backstage workers and officials just standing around, watching as Chris kicks and stomps away at Mike, who lays against the wall, trying to protect himself; but it's useless. Chris is abso-freaking-lutely relentless.

Giving Mike some knees to the side of the head as he lays against the wall, Chris soon picks his rival up, only to be struck with a thumb to the eye!

Steve Hebert: Ah-ha! That'll stop him.

Just as Mike stands, though, he grabs Chris and inside-cradles him... in this Street Fight!

Lex Robinson: What the...? Mike Phantasy with an inside-cradle!

Steve Hebert: He's obviously just going straight for the win!

The referee, who had been circling around, drops down and makes the immediate pinfall.

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two... no!

Steve Hebert: So close! Mike almost had him!

Lex Robinson: We still have more matches to go, too! We've only had one match inside the ring! We have more to go! They better hurry things up!

Steve Hebert: Ah, who gives a crap?! We have Mike Phantasy bursting to his feet, kicking Chris in the side of the temple! That's good enough for me.

Lex Robinson: But... the other matches...

Steve Hebert: Screw 'em!

Giving Chris some bionic elbows to the tip of the skull, Mike soon throws him into the side of the wall. Hooking Chris, it appears he's going to attempt a suplex. However, Chris is quick to stop the momentum and swing things back into his own favour.

Lex Robinson: Chris with the block. He turns things around... and suplexes Mike Phantasy onto the hard, concrete floor!

Steve Hebert: Ouch! His back slapped off the ground, with no give.

Lex Robinson: Of course. It was pure skin-on-cement.

Steve Hebert: Sickening.

Lex Robinson: On his knees, Chris crawls over Mike, making the cover, laying his tits across Mike's face!

Steve Hebert: Oh dear...

The referee counts...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy gnaws on Chris Extreme's hooters! That's how you stop a pinfall! Granted, Teresa Quaranta might be jealous, but it gets the job done.

Lex Robinson: You certainly have got that right. Pulling Mike up to his feet, Chris slaps him across the face and then walks over, grabs a broomstick... and...

Steve Hebert: No! Before he can strike, Mike grabs it away from him! Even worse, Chris was going to jam that into Mike's cock. Luckily, the roles have been reversed and Mike Phantasy is using the broom to literally brush at Chris's face! Those prickly ends sticking into Chris's face, making him stumble back, trying to stop the flurry.

Lex Robinson: On top of that, Mike Phantasy then cracks the broom across the back of Chris Extreme's skull! My God! Lifting up one of the bananas that had been on the catering table, Mike jams it into Chris's throat, trying to choke him with it.

Steve Hebert: He's trying to fuck Chris's mouth with it! Like a fucking dildo! This is horrifyingly awesome!

Struggling to his feet, trying to find air, Chris Extreme stumbles about, with the crowd watching on the SW screen. Ripping the banana out of his jowels, Mike peels it and begins eating it.

Steve Hebert: First, it's time for some potassium, which he digests into his system, granting him the chance to lay some smacks upside Chris's skull. Goddamn, I love it. Kill him, Mike!

In a daze, Chris awkwardly stumbles around, trying to catch his breath. In the meantime, Mike stalks him from behind, grabs two pots and uses them to clang against Chris's skull, sandwiching his cranium!

Steve Hebert: Ka-bong! He's going to have a headache for weeks!

Lex Robinson: Man, oh man! That had to hurt.

Steve Hebert: You think? I'm surprised Chris is still standing after that. Heck, I'd be surprised if his ears aren't ringing, too. That was insane.

Lex Robinson: He's not going to be a World Champion for much longer. I can sense it. Mike can only watch as a dizzy Chris Extreme wobbles about, leaning against one of the doors. Deciding to grab another table, Mike charges at Chris, about to smash that table against the World Champion!

Seeing Mike charge at him, Chris wisely steps aside, dizziness and all. As a result, Mike Phantasy and the door clangs against the door, making him drop the table and spin around, only to meet a violent fist to the forehead from a shaken Chris Extreme!

Steve Hebert: Ugh! How awful!

Lex Robinson: Chris Extreme nails several more repeated punched, knocking Mike against the door, almost making him pop out of it. The toppled over table lays in front of Mike, leaning against him, while Chris takes several steps back... and then shoots forward...!

Steve Hebert: Oh no...

Lex Robinson: John Woo Kick...!

Before he can strike, Mike Phantasy lifts the table up, holding it sideways, resulting in Chris hitting the running-dropkick through the table, splintering it into pieces, while sending Mike flying out the door!

Lex Robinson: Oh my God! Mike Phantasy is sent to the outside! We're literally in the streets almost! I didn't think we'd get this literal with things.

Steve Hebert: Oh no... oh no... this is terrible.

The camera crew hastily follows through another nearby, adjacent door. The first thing caught on film is Mike Phantasy rolling on the pavement, in the parking lots of the arena.

Steve Hebert: I think Mike Phantasy just flew. I mean it, too. He flew out the godforsaken door.

Lex Robinson: All because of that magnificent kick from Chris Extreme! He could end it right here. We can go back to the ringside area and focus on the rest of our card. He could make the pinfall and retain his title, right here, right now.

With a flash of pink, Chris bursts through the same doors and cripples over to Mike Phantasy, driving some boots to his burnt chest, even kneeling on him. In this position, Chris grabs Mike by the hair and begins hammering away at his head with punches, with Mike instantly rolling Chris over, trying to avoid this all-out assault!

Steve Hebert: Mike rolls over, getting atop Chris, but is still in the defensive position, trying to keep Chris at bay. Finding an opening, Mike forearms Chris and uses both hands to gouge at his eyes! A very smart move, if I do say so.

Lex Robinson: Along with that, Mike is using both hands to grab onto the side of Chris's skull and is now bashing the back of his head off the pavement! My God...!

Steve Hebert: The back of Chris Extreme's head has been bloodied! Showing no mercy, Mike picks Chris up and then whips him into the passenger's side of a silver Volvo! That's Edward Cullen's car! What the fuck?!

Lex Robinson: Uh, what?

Steve Hebert: Holy fuck, I don't know. He grabs Chris by the skull, placing him in a side-headlock position... charges forward... and smashes the top of his head off rear-view window, smashing it off the car!

Lex Robinson: Thank heavens that isn't my car!

Steve Hebert: Mike backs up and throws a high-kick at Chris Extreme... only to have him step out of the way and Mike smashes the window out with his foot! Glass shatters everywhere, with some of it even splintering into Mike's leg! My God, that's disgusting!

Lex Robinson: Looking as if he has stepped in a bear trap, Mike stumbles back, in obvious pain. This allows for Chris to take a deep breath and run full-speed ahead...! Bulldog onto the pavement by Chris Extreme! Yes!

Steve Hebert: Ugh... that faggot is making the count...

The referee gingerly slaps his hand off the pavement.

...1...2...

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy kicks out at two! So f'n close! Thank fucking Jesus.

Lex Robinson: You're right, Steve. It was way, way close. Nevertheless, things continue, much like our pay per view, which has been put on hold due to our supposed main event.

Steve Hebert: Fuck that. Mike Phantasy wanted things to start right goddamn now... and he got his wish.

Lex Robinson: Judging by the blood flowing from his leg, it may have been a terrible idea.

Steve Hebert: It'll clot soon, I'm sure. Either that or we'll amputate him mid-match.

Lex Robinson: Whatever the case may be, he's in trouble. Chris Extreme has dragged him towards a flatbed truck and the World Champ is on the flatbed, looking to moonsault off it. Here he goes...

Steve Hebert: He misses! Mike Phantasy rolls out of the way! Chris Extreme lands on his stupid, whorish face! Take that, you fucking creep. He's even creepier than The fucking Creep, Lex.

Lex Robinson: An awful decision there by Chris has left him landing face-first onto the ground! This is awful.

Steve Hebert: For Chris, yes; but for Mike, this is excellent! Alternatively, Mike is on the flatbed, now, with blood flowing down his shin and onto the truck. Here he goes...

Lex Robinson: Corkscrew moonsault from Mike Phantasy... and... wait...! Before he can jump off, a woozy Chris Extreme gets to his feet and jumps forward, halting Mike with the vicious, deadly, lethal Testicle Claw from behind!

To get a better grip of Mike's crotch, Chris climbs onto the flatbed, as well. Seconds of having that happen, though, the truck is turned on by its driver, who is oblivious to what is happening behind him.

Steve Hebert: Wait, was that the ignition?

Lex Robinson: Uh, I believe so.

Steve Hebert: What the Jesus?

This fact fazes neither Mike nor Chris. As the flatbed truck begins to rumble and roll out of the parking lot, Mike finally fights back against the Testicle Claw, hammering away at Chris's face with elbows and punches.

Mike Phantasy: Auughhh.... let go, you son of a bitch!

With a few good elbows to the head, Mike is released and is kneeing Chris Extreme in the face.

Lex Robinson: The truck is moving! What the heck is going on?!

Steve Hebert: That's what I've been asking you! I don't even know!

Lex Robinson: Confusion is abound, no one knows what's going on. What they do know is that the friggin' truck is pulling out of the parking lot!

Steve Hebert: What the--...? Get back here!

Lex Robinson: Neither Chris or Mike are bothered by this fact, either, as they continue fighting on the flatbed. In fact, Mike has not only broken Chris Extreme's Testicle Claw, but has hit him with a reverse-suplex onto the back of the truck!

Sin Wrestling officials, including the camera crew, stand around, not knowing what to do.

Steve Hebert: Someone follow that truck!

Official: Quick, get to the jeep! Hurry!

The camera jiggles and shakes and everyone disperses, while the flatbed truck is officially on the highway, in traffic, with Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy fighting on the bed of it.

TO BE CONTINUED...!

The sound of lightning strikes and thunder rolling are heard across the background of a choir. A deep voice is then heard:

"Estuans Interius Ira Vehementi..."

The volume of the music grows. The voice comes again.

"...Burning Inside With Violent Anger..."

The tempo increases, the pitch of the choir growing hectic. The voice speaks again.

"...the Voice of God is Come..."

Everything comes to a stop, nothing but silence coming forth. Then the voice screams out:

"...LET THE HAMMER FALL!"

A rock version of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata plays as Jean-Paul Lacklan makes his way down the entrance ramp, the hood of his coat pulled down low over his masked face, the make-shift sledgehammer, the Knocker, in hand. After he enters the ring, he takes a moment to look over the crowd, then retreats to his corner, where he slumps, awaiting the beginning of the match.

Lex Robinson: Lacklan looks extremely focused tonight, Steve.

Steve Hebert: This fag is always focused, Lex, like focus was his gimmick.

Lex Robinson: What kind of gimmick is being focused?

Steve Hebert: What kind of gimmick is constantly having untied shoelaces?

Lex Robinson: It’s not much of a gimmick at all, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Exactly.

Darkness falls upon the arena as "Duality" by slipknot hits the PA system. Strobes begin to flash throughout the arena, searching for something. The music stops and smoke covers the ring. When it clears, Flame stands tall with a look in his eye that could rape little children.

Steve Hebert: Flame looks like the kind of guy who would rape children.

Lex Robinson: What makes you say that?

Steve Hebert: Look at the way he’s looking at Lacklan. It’s like he knows that Lacklan has a child that he could theoretically rape.

Lex Robinson: But that’s just theoretical, right?

Steve Hebert: I don’t know, Lex. Lacklan’s three-year-old probably needs to get laid in the worst way.

Lex Robinson: That was a joke, FBI.

Steve Hebert: Maybe.

"There's a mystery inside my head...
It was you dripping all in red.
Did I hurt you? let me make it safe an sound...
Can you feel me breathing down your neck?
Your just a perfect little human wreck.
But I like you... enough to destroy you, tear you down."

"Get Away With Murder" by Jeffree Starr plays over the PA. The arena falls dark and when the center of the ring lights up Trinity Evans is shown, with red smoke, symbolizing blood, surrounding her. When the smoke fades, she stands back, ready for her match to commence.

Lex Robinson: Her theme music makes me want to jam pencils in my ears, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Her breasts remind me that I need to renew my subscription to burningangel.com.

Lex Robinson: You pay for porn?

Steve Hebert: Only because it reminds me that there are some women out there with daddy issues who won’t take it out on you by carving symbols into your chest with a butterfly knife.

The bell rings, and Trinity Evans charges right at her childhood friend, Flame! Before he has a chance to react, Trinity has Flame backed into the corner, where she beats away at the former World Champion!

Steve Hebert: Trinity Evans is trying to score some major points in everybody’s book by going after that walking abortion.

Lex Robinson: Considering their personal history, this is no surprise.

Steve Hebert: Who the fuck wants to consider their personal history?

Lex Robinson: I’m sure some people are interested in that kind of thing.

Steve Hebert: Those people are probably getting off on this right now, because Trinity Evans is destroying a defenseless Flame in the corner with knife-edge chops to the chest and some mudhole stomping with an assist from her Hot Topic boots!

Flame is practically on the verge of death in the corner, until Jean-Paul Lacklan stalks up behind Trinity Evans and grabs her by the hair!

Lex Robinson: The referee is admonishing Lacklan for the hair pulling—...

Steve Hebert: Like Trinity doesn’t like being treated like a nasty skank.

Lex Robinson: But Lacklan doesn’t plan on pulling forever, as he bends Trinity over backwards and hits her with a huge, clubbing blow to her chest!

Steve Hebert: After smacking Trinity’s huge, sweaty goth boobs, he turns his attention to Flame, who looks relieved that he’s not being clawed to death by a fucking harpy. Lacklan is totally worse than a harpy though, as he kicks Flame in the gut, quickly hoists him in the air, and drops Flame with a powerbomb onto the top turnbuckle!

Lex Robinson: Before Lacklan can capitalize on that devastating move, Trinity rushes the so-called savior of professional wrestling from behind and shoves him through the ropes and to the floor! Quickly, she goes for the cover on the downed Flame!

...

Lex Robinson: Before the referee can make a one-count, Lacklan grabs Trinity’s leg and drags her out to ringside, where he delivers a vicious spinning backhand that sends Trinity Evans flying backwards into the guardrail!

Steve Hebert: Yes, Lacklan would like some of that ass.

Lex Robinson: Lacklan goes after Trinity, but she reaches out and gouges his eyes, which isn’t easy considering that mask of his! He gropes blindly for Trinity, who grabs Lacklan and rams him chest first into the barricade!

Steve Hebert: Seeing as how she has the advantage, Trinity tries to Irish-whip Lacklan into the steel ring steps, only Lacklan’s a fucking monster compared to her, and he has his sight back, so he reverses, sending her flying into and over the stairs like he was an abusive husband!!

Lacklan doesn’t have any time to follow up on his attack, however, as Flame has gotten to his feet in the ring. Making matters worse for him, Flame is going for an uncharacteristic suicide dive!

Lex Robinson: Flame flying through those ropes!

Steve Hebert: It’s a small miracle that he didn’t catch his feet on them!

Lex Robinson: Regardless, Lacklan manages to avoid the 245 pound missile, shoving the mid-air Flame at the last possible second, bringing him down onto the guard rail with what amounts to a devastating gut buster!

Steve Hebert: I hope his fucking ribs are broken!

Lex Robinson: Lacklan needs to get Flame into the ring to go for a cover here...

As if he heard Lex, Lacklan does indeed roll Flame into the ring, where he hooks the leg for the cover…

...1...

Lex Robinson: One... two... and...

...

Lex Robinson: Trinity breaks up the count at the last second!

Steve Hebert: Well, thank God. Action like this deserves to go on forever.

Lacklan quickly gets to his feet and charges at Trinity Evans…

Lex Robinson: Trinity sees Lacklan coming, and she takes him down by falling to the canvas and tripping him up! Lacklan gets up again, only to be taken down with a dropkick! He’s up once more, and, yep, Trinity knocks him into the ropes with another dropkick!

Steve Hebert: You’d think that Lacklan would come up with a better plan of attack or something.

Lex Robinson: He doesn’t have to, as Flame is up to his feet, which draws Trinity’s attention! Flame gets in a few shots on his former friend, but Trinity Evans seems not to mind.

Steve Hebert: She’s into pain, so the experience of being in a match with Flame is probably disappointing at this very minute.

Lex Robinson: Regardless, Trinity goes to kick Flame to stop his small onslaught, but Flame catches her foot... Enziguiri! Trinity follows up with a cover...

The referee counts...

...1...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

Steve Hebert: And now Lacklan breaks it up! At this very moment, I hate him more than words can describe.

Lex Robinson: Trinity feels the same, Steve, as she’s back to her feet and running her mouth at a stoic Lacklan.

Steve Hebert: And now Flame’s getting up, presumably to join in on this faggotry.

Lex Robinson: But before he can get a word in edgewise, Trinity blasts him in the face with a forearm! Flame staggers the distance between Trinity and Lacklan as a result of the blow, and is met there with a stiff elbow from an ever-present Lacklan!

Flame wanders back to Trinity, in a daze, where he is again punched by his former friend. The abuse draws a loud pop from the crowd!

Steve Hebert: This is fucking ridiculous, Lex. They’re playing ping pong with Flame!

Lex Robinson: And the fans seem to really dig it, as they cheer again while Lacklan drills Flame with an elbow.

Steve Hebert: And Trinity, who didn’t come with a trademark striking move, is relegated to a knife-edged chop!

Lex Robinson: Another elbow from Lacklan!

Steve Hebert: And a high kick from Trinity, which sends Flame spinning in a spaghetti western arc…

Lex Robinson: Where he is finally brought down by a Lacklan roaring elbow! Trinity runs at the standing Lacklan, possibly to take him out of the picture, following his trademark elbow attack, but Lacklan rears back... and blows purple mist into her face!

Steve Hebert: Backwash! Gross!

Lex Robinson: The referee isn’t calling for the bell, so Lacklan takes this moment to hit his Japanese-style Enziguiri on Trinity, who falls through the ropes to the outside! Meanwhile, Flame is still knocked out cold on the mat!

Steve Hebert: Lacklan turns his attention to a downed Flame, lifts him up, and drops that retard on his head!

Lex Robinson: The Final Rite! Lacklan goes for the cover...

...1...

Steve Hebert: Oh shit. It's lights out for Flame!

Lex Robinson: ...One...

...2...

Steve Hebert: Two...!

Lex Robinson: …three! Lacklan has done it! He wins his pay per view re-debut and, in doing so, picks up yet another win over a former World Champion!

Steve Hebert: Yeah, but it’s just Flame, so I wouldn’t really go around bragging or nothin’.

The referee attempts to raise Lacklan’s hand in victory, but he slaps it away. Without pause, he rolls out of the ring, where he throws up the apron and drags out... the Knocker!

Steve Hebert: Lacklan ain’t done yet!

Lex Robinson: He’s got the Knocker, which is bad news for Flame!

Lacklan goes back into the ring and raises the Knocker high. That move manages to bring Flame up as though it were a magic trick. He rushes at Lacklan, who quickly puts him down with a Knocker shot to the gut.

Steve Hebert: Smash him like a fucking watermelon!

Lex Robinson: He does, Steve, bringing that modified hammer down on Flame’s neck, face, and back with some absolutely brutal shots! But, just as Flame is completely helpless, Lacklan stops his assault, looks down on Flame, and just leaves towards the back.

Steve Hebert: In this world, that’s more disrespectful than just killing a motherfucker.

As Lacklan makes his way backstage, Trinity Evans slides back into the ring, where she begins to berate Flame for her loss.

Lex Robinson: I can’t believe this, Steve—Trinity is blaming Flame for her loss!

Steve Hebert: Well, if it weren’t for Flame, Lacklan wouldn’t have pinned him. She’s got a point.

Lex Robinson: Now she starts raining shots down on an unprotected Flame, screaming her head off like a banshee as she does so! When she’s had enough, she takes Flame by the head and leads him out to the ring apron, where she sets him up with a double underhook...

Stevie Hebert: Fucking yes! Raven’s Sorrow, right down to the floor!

Lex Robinson: A double underhook facebuster to the cold concrete floor! Unbelievable!

Trinity remains on her knees above Flame for some time, talking more trash to the former World Champion before deciding that she’s had enough, leaving his lifeless body for the garbage collectors. She walks to the back, getting booed by the fans, who are not a fan of her antics.

WINNER: Jean-Paul Lacklan

There's a cake laying on Corey Page's desk, which has the man in question seated behind it, lighting the candles on the delicious treat. He's celebrating all alone, blowing out the candles, lighting them back up and then blowing them out again.

Corey Page: Happy birthday... to SW! Happy birthday... to you! Happy birthday... SW! Happy birthday to you!

He lights the candles up and blows them out again.

Corey Page: Happy birthday, Sin Wrestling, you sexy wrestling promotion, you. 6 years of drinking... getting shot at... having my company stolen by Ukranian druglords... dealing with idiots... having Jude Law or Jude Ugly or whatever his name was blow his head off in the ring... 'roids... ugh.

Suddenly, Travis Miller walks into the ring, holding his Ultraviolence Title around his waist.

Corey Page: ...and Travis Miller... ugh.

Without saying a word, Travis walks up to Corey's desk, slamming his hands down, narrowly missing the cake.

Travis Miller: Corey Page!

Corey slams back.

Corey Page: Travis Miller! What do you want? I'm celebrating Sin Wrestling's birthday here, so make it quick.

Travis Miller: My match tonight... I want to prove a point.

Corey Page: Okay. Being what?

Travis Miller: "Loser Leaves Town".

Corey Page: ...What?

Travis Miller: You heard me. If I win, Teresa has to leave Sin Wrestling. If she wins, I'll man-up and exit with my head held high.

Corey Page: Hmmm... well...

Travis Miller: Come on. I know I can do this.

Corey Page: Well, if you put it that way.

Corey grabs his stamp and stamps Travis Miller's hand.

Corey Page: Done!

Confused, Travis responds.

Travis Miller: Does this count as a contract?

Corey Page: It does now!

Travis Miller: Well, okay.

Travis Miller walks away, preparing for his title defense against Teresa Quaranta. Corey Page, on the other hand, wipes some icing off the cake with his finger and licks it off.

Corey Page: Mmm.

Fade out.

Steve Hebert and Lex Robinson are shown at their desk, with Lex listening intently on his headphones. It appears they have breaking news.

Lex Robinson: Folks... folks... we have breaking news. Our camera crews have caught up with Mike Phantasy and Chris Extreme. We're going live, now.

Steve Hebert: But they're in the back of a moving truck! What the Christ?!

Lex Robinson: Yes, we realize that. Our cameras have caught up with them. Let's go to them -- right now!

Steve Hebert: Oh God, if Mike Phantasy falls off the flatbed and is runover by the tires of that truck, I'll shoot myself in the head.

Lex Robinson: Let's go!

Fade out.

Fade in.

The screen flashes on. The camera crew is on the road, in the middle of traffic, driving to the side of the moving flatbed truck. They're in the jeep, watching as the lines of the road pass, catching glimpse of Chris Extreme, Mike Phantasy and the referee on the back of the flatbed.

Mike Phantasy is currently on top of things, kicking and stomping at Chris, while trying to keep his balance. Lifting Chris to his feet, Mike closes his fist and hammers Chris in the face, making him teeter near the edge.

Mike Phantasy: Look, cocksucker, you're going to get it now!

He clobbers Chris some more, dropping him to his knees. Giving a sit-down dropkick to Chris's face, Mike kneels next to his nemesis, hammering him some more shots, jiggling up and down, as the truck drives over a bump. Grabbing onto Chris's head, Mike forces him to lean off the side of the flatbed, holding Chris's face next to a whirling wheel.

Mike Phantasy: Bite it! Bite the fucking ground!

Aware of the danger, Chris strikes at Mike's nose, following that up with some vicious elbows to the face. Trying not to plunge off the flatbed, Chris rolls into the center of it, making the referee side-step out of the way, while Mike Phantasy gets to a standing base, having a trickle of blood run down his left nostril.

Mike Phantasy: Heh... so close...

With blood pouring out of nose and out of the cuts on his leg, Mike stands to his feet and charges at Chris, who takes two steps back, enabling him to punch Mike in the stomach. Applying a side-headlock Chris tries to grind him to a halt, but Mike holds Chris in the air and release belly-to-back suplexes him onto the flatbed, getting a shocked reaction from the camera crew, who let out a huge gulp.

Pulling hair out of his eyes, Mike gets back up, drags Chris up with him and holds him between his legs with a standing headscissors. Going for a piledriver, Mike is immediately stopped, thanks to a backdrop from Chris Extreme, who'll have none of that! As a matter of fact, Chris lifts Mike up, claws him across the back with his painted pink fingernails and goes for a piledriver of his own.

Much like Chris, though, Mike squirms his way to safety by pushing the aggressor away. One second later, Chris calmly and rationally kicks Mike in the testicles, pulls him near and drops him facefirst onto the flatbed with a double-underarm DDT!

Rolling onto Mike, Chris makes the cover and hooks a leg, while the referee goes down, slapping his hand off the flatbed...

...1...2...

...

Mike Phantasy kicks out!

Referee: It's a two!

Cameraman: Oh my God... so close. Hey, keep driving. Keep it steady.

The camera shakes and stirs, with the cameraman trying to keep focus on the brawl between these two men. Chris is up first, eyeing the jeep that is trailing behind the truck. Offering a stomp to Mike Phantasy's face, he pulls his opponent up, slaps Mike once and then suplexes him onto the flatbed, Mike's back landing squarely on steel!

Mike Phantasy: Owww! My back!

There's no remorse in Chris's eyes. He hovers over Mike, who is bleeding onto the flatbed, picks him up, kicks him in the ribcage and then pulls him near. Slapping Mike across the face several times with some rather bitchy slaps, Chris facelocks him and appears to be intent on bringing him down with a DDT.

Mike, on the other hand, has differing plans.

With his hand covered in the blood from his nose, Mike punches Chris in the ribs, making him gasp for air. In a last ditch effort, Mike hoists Chris up and flapjacks him onto the flatbed! Pain surrounds Chris's face and head, making him roll around in pain, while the truck turns a corner.

On his feet, Mike is nearly knocked off-balance by this sharp turn, using the referee to help him stand. He stands in reverie, trying to regain his thoughts, watching as Chris Extreme holds his face, having lost a tooth!

When the time is right, Mike springs at Chris, going for his Phantasize superkick... but Chris drops to his knees, allowing for Mike Phantasy's leg to zoom overhead! As a result, Chris applies another Testicle Claw, his second of the evening, getting a firmer and better grip! To make matters worse, Chris begins hammering at Mike Phantasy's asshole, while gnawing on his right thigh, bringing out the Chris Extreme of old!

Mike hollers out in pain, swinging his arms back and forth, looking for anything to relieve himself from the suffering. He accidentally yanks on the referee, sending him near the edge of the flatbed, which crosses a bridge, almost sending the referee plummetting to the ground below! Fortunately, the camera crew is able to speed up and allow one of the officials to reach up and steady the referee, keeping him from falling!

Unfortunately for the person from the camera crew, Mike Phantasy reaches out and drags him onto the platform, as well! Taking one of the microphones that had been strapped to the official's waist, Mike uses it to gouge at Chris's right eye, finding an opening from the pain and suffering of the Testicle Claw!

Finding freedom, Mike waddles around, having a bloody nose, leg and a sore asshole, testicles and thigh. In frustration, he swings around and hits the official with a Phantasize, dropping him onto the flatbed!

The official falls on his back, nearly falling off the platform, which would have been disastrous. However, for Mike, this lapse in concentration nearly proves fatal as Chris rolls up behind him, barely able to see and missing a tooth. Quite simply, Chris uses a schoolboy-rollup to surprise him!

The referee quickly counts...

...1...2...

...

...No! Mike kicks out!

Not only does Mike Phantasy kick out, but he instantly jumps to his feet, giving a kneeling Chris Extreme a blistering kick to the face!

Knocked woozy, Chris can only remain there, on his knees, allowing Mike Phantasy to wail away on him with the microphone, busting him open, the crimson blood fading into his pink hair!

After this beating, which even has Mike Phantasy deliver a piledriver onto the flatbed, the truck stops at an intersection, in front of a red light. It pulls up next to a limo, which has a partying newly wed couple inside of it. With the truck stopped, with the jeep parked behind it, Mike uses this opportunity to get off it.

...but not before unleashing some more pain onto Chris Extreme!

Grabbing Chris by the skull, Mike lifts Chris up, applies a standing headscissors near the ledge of the flatbed, lifts him onto his shoulders... and goes soaring through the air with Chris, diving near the limo. A loud crash is heard as Chris lands atop the limo, shattering the sunroof of the vehicle, physically sending him inside!

The horrified and frightened couple and their brigade go running out of the car, just as Mike climbs inside the backdoor, hammering away on Chris Extreme!

Sin Wrestling's own camera crew stands back, listening to the grunting and brawling occur in the backseat of the limo. Eventually, Mike and Chris pop out of the top of the car, through the sunroof and exchange blows via their fists! Each man is a bloodied mess, with Chris Extreme blocking some shots of Mike, only to grab a shard of glass and jab it into Mike Phantasy's neck, narrowly missing an artery!

Blood flows out of Mike's neck and down his body, as he rolls out of the vehicle, with Chris Extreme chasing after him, in hot pursuit. Onlookers have gathered around, watching the action, amazed, as they view Mike ripping the glass shard out of his neck, only to turn around and slash Chris across the face with it! Blood gushes out of Mike's wound, which he ignores, paying close attention to Chris Extreme.

Taking Chris by the head, he tosses him headfirst through the window of the driver's side door, smashing Chris's head into glass that goes sprinkling everywhere! Seeing Chris lay on the ground, Mike laughs, his face covered in blood.

Grabbing the referee, he tears off a piece of his shirt and begins to use it as a tourniquet, using it to stop the bleeding from around his neck.

Referee: Hey, hey-- what the--...

Mike Phantasy: [while gurgling blood] I need this. Thank you.

He gives the referee a push, sits in the driver's side of the limo and notices that the keys are still in the ignition, thanks to the driver frantically running away. He turns the limo on and drives off, leaving a cloud of smoke and burning tire in his wake.

Chris Extreme, meanwhile, is left with the referee, who stands over him, checking on his status.

Referee: Are... are... are you okay?!

Chris doesn't say a word.

Instead, he reaches up, grabs the referee by the collar and drags him over to the jeep belonging to the camera crew.

In an instant, Chris has pulled the driver out of the front seat and has given him a toss. Throwing the referee in the backseat, along with another crewmember, Chris sits in the driver's side, slams the door and pulls away, headed straight after Mike Phantasy!

Unfortunately for two members of the camera crew, including the cameraman himself, they are left behind, straded without a vehicle. They have no other choice to call for a taxi.

TO BE CONTINUED...!

The lights dim, and the spotlights in the arena pulsate and dance across the arena, in tune to the primal drumbeat of At The Drive-In's Arcarsenal. The video screen above the entrance lights up, looking like faded paper, and overlapped with drawings of rotating, interconnected gears, half-finished mechanisms and small words in a strange text. The screen flashes back and forth between the blueprints and highlights of Teresa's SW career.

The drums thump. Then, with the lights down, a soft spotlight focuses on the top of the ramp, as Teresa Quaranta storms through the curtain, smirking and raising a slight eyebrow at the audience. She wears a black, long-sleeved singlet, coupled with kneepads and a heavy pair of boots.

I must have read a thousand faces.
I must have robbed them of their cause.
Sickened thirst, sickened thirst keeps it together.
Soft white glow in the cranium, a bullseye made sedated...

Teresa pauses at the top of the ramp and deliberately raises two fingers to her neck for a few seconds, then to her wrist. Once her pulse is checked, she takes a deep breath, pivots towards the crowd and flicks her hand towards the ring, sticking her nose in the air and jawing snidely at the fans. As she reaches the ring, she steps through the middle rope, beige sparklers fall from above the ring, but Teresa doesn't give them much acknowledgment besides looking in their direction.

BEWARE! BEWARE! BEWARE!
She walks to the turnbuckle and leans against it with a knowing smile, waiting for the match to start.

Steve Hebert: Uh... did you just see what I saw?

Lex Robinson: They... they were fighting while driving down the highway... and... holy crap!

Steve Hebert: And then... Mike Phantasy... oh god. Teresa Quaranta will not like this. Speaking of which, here she is! It's Ultraviolence Title time. After what we just witnessed, it's appropriate.

Lex Robinson: She had better bring the same hustle as Mike Phantasy, who is vying for the World Title.

Steve Hebert: As long as he can get away from Chris Extreme to clear his head... and his neck.

The lights fade, an assortment of colorful lazers illuminate through a cloud of smoke and "New Divide" by Linkin Park hits the speakers. Travis Miller rises from beneath the stage at the end of the ramp, holding his head up high, pointing to his Ultraviolence Title that's around his waist. Stepping out from the smoke, he takes his time walking to the ring, slapping a few hands on his way down, while eyeballing his opponent. Sliding inside, he stands to his feet and prepares for his match to begin.

Lex Robinson: There's glass tables all around. Tables on the floor, tables in each corner--...

Steve Hebert: Tables everywhere!

Lex Robinson: Pretty much.

Ding... ding... ding!

Lex Robinson: And there's the bell. These two, who obviously hate each, Travis blaming her for ruining his friendship with Mike Phantasy.

Steve Hebert: What a jealous, old gaymo.

Lex Robinson: Right after the bell, they walk towards each other, meeting in the center of the ring. There's a staredown. Oooh... Teresa slaps Travis across the face!

Steve Hebert: Haha, what a bitchslap. Travis is just a filthy little whore.

Lex Robinson: Wait... Travis returns with a slap of his own!

Steve Hebert: Oh, of course. Slapping like a little girl.

Lex Robinson: Angered, Teresa races around Travis, applies a reverse-waistlock and Travis tries to peel her off him. However, she ducks between his legs... and from a kneeling position, she back-kicks Travis, who hunches over, trying to grab onto her!

Steve Hebert: Should have given him a kick to that tiny cock of his.

Teresa jumps up, going right to the attack on Travis, backing him up into the corner, using a bevy of palm strikes and fists to knock him against a glass table.

Lex Robinson: Miller is cornered, unable to escape the lethal blows from Teresa, who is going nuts with various strikes. When she's done, she steps out, moving into the opposite corner. What's she going for?

Steve Hebert: She's going to smash him through that friggin' glass table, that's what she's going to do!

With a burst of speed, Teresa charges across the ring, looking to cannonball Travis through the table.

Lex Robinson: Travis moves...!

With Travis falling to the side, Teresa cannonballs through the glass table, smashing it into smithereens, sending shards of glass everywhere!

Steve Hebert: No!

Lex Robinson: Teresa smashes through the glass table! Yes! Thank heavens Travis slid out of the way!

Steve Hebert: And these fans are happy about it! Truly disturbing, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Travis, who is not only fighting to retain his title, is also fighting for career. Earlier in the night, he waltzed into Corey Page's office and laid his own career on the line.

Steve Hebert: Hey, the same can be said for Teresa. Corey Page "okayed" it. Whoever loses, their contract gets shit on and then torn to shreds.

Lex Robinson: Yup. And that's why Travis Miller is currently stomping the life out of Teresa, who lays in the pile of glass, trying to free herself, but it's futile. It isn't until Travis physically lifts her up and places her in the corner that she is able to free herself. From there, he begins to light her chest afire with some hammy chops. With blood on her shoulder, Teresa is then whipped across the ring, headed towards the next glass table!

Before she crashes into the glass, she gets her foot up on the middle rope, stopping herself!

Steve Hebert: Oh, thank God. Teresa is able to brace herself. She turns around... and Travis, the ugly fucker, is running towards her! To take a page out of his book, she rolls out of the way!

Lex Robinson: Unlike her, though, he doesn't go for a cannonball. He's able to completely halt himself before crashing into the glass! However, Teresa nails him with a dropkick to the back of his skull from behind! This drops Travis to his knees, laying him across the glass table, which remains leaning against the turnbuckles.

Steve Hebert: She's up to something, too.

Lex Robinson: Something no good, I'm sure.

Running across the adjacent set of ropes, Teresa returns, going full speed ahead. She leaps through the air, placing both feet together and delivers a running double-stomp to the back of Travis Miller's skull, sending him face-first through the table!

Lex Robinson: Oh my God!

Steve Hebert: Bwahahaha... awesome! Travis gets a face full of glass!

Lex Robinson: Delivering some more stomps to the back of Travis's head, Teresa now pulls him into the center of the ring, making sure to pull him through the glass.

Steve Hebert: A very calculated move, if you ask me! Very, very smart.

Lex Robinson: As blood pours from Travis's face, Teresa steps on the back of his legs, grabs his arms and Bow and Arrow Stretches him! She occasionally dips Travis forward, rubbing his face in mounds of glass, only to lean back, stretching him even further!

Steve Hebert: Good! Break that fucker while cutting him up.

Lex Robinson: The referee moves in, checking on Travis to see if he quits. Obviously, the Ultraviolence Champion denies any sort of quitting.

Steve Hebert: "Obviously"? You make it sound like he's Superman or something. Jesus Christ, Lex, it's only Travis Miller. It took him 6 years to acquire one title, for Christ's sake.

Releasing Travis, Teresa gets back up and returns to stomping and kicking away at him. Placing him in a kneeling position, she begins wailing away at him with a multitude of kicks, some striking his face, the back of his skull and his chest!

Lex Robinson: Teresa is slapping away at Travis's face and bounces off the nearest set of ropes... only to return with a sit-down dropkick to Miller's face! Rolling out of the ring, she takes one of the outside tables and slips it back into the ring. Setting it up, she lifts Miller to his feet and then kicks him onto the table.

Steve Hebert: Things are not looking good for Travis Miller! I'm surprised this fat fuck hasn't plummetted through the table already.

Lex Robinson: Are you kidding? He isn't the least bit fat.

Steve Hebert: Looks like he's been eating one too many Big Macs, to me, Lex.

Teresa steps to the outer portion of the apron and slowly begins climbing to the top turnbuckle. Tapping her knee, she listens to the fans jeer at her, taking a second to taunt and yell at them.

Lex Robinson: As usual, Teresa Quaranta is running her mouth.

Steve Hebert: She's giving it right back to them.

Lex Robinson: And now Travis rolls off the table, moves into the corner and grabs onto her!

Steve Hebert: Aw, crap.

Lex Robinson: Teresa Quaranta is flung through the air... and she slams through the glass table!

Steve Hebert: God no! She slipped... she, uh... damnit!

Lex Robinson: Travis, with blood on his face, makes the cover!

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

Steve Hebert: Hell no! Teresa kicks out!

Lex Robinson: Sitting Teresa up, Travis nails her with some fists and then lifts her to her feet. Giving her some knees to the gut, Travis holds her with a gutwrench and hoists her up into a powerbomb position. Wait, no, she slides out of it, landing behind him.

Steve Hebert: Bam! She nails him with a spinning-kick! So much for that, hey?

Lex Robinson: Grabbing onto Travis's head, Teresa applies a side-headlock, allowing her to also nail some kneelifts to the top of his skull. Miller, trying to shove her off, pushes her into the ropes. Her only defense is to climb up the ropes, while still holding onto his head; only to be dumped on the side of the apron!

Steve Hebert: They're exchanging blows with each other, which is quite different for Travis Miller, as he's usually the one doing the blowing.

From out on the side of the apron, Teresa swings her foot at him, trying for a roundhouse kick from out here. Travis, however, thinks quickly and blocks the shot by crossing both of his arms together. Instead, he strikes with some punches of his own and then climbs out with her.

Lex Robinson: Travis and Teresa brawl on the side of the apron. Travis delivers some punches; but she replies with some stiff knife-edge chops! Next, Travis kicks her in the gut and positions her between his legs with a standing-headscissors.

Steve Hebert: Hell no, Teresa pulls away! She nails some knees to the gut of Travis Miller, finishing off by hitting the Devil's Advocate, almost sending him off the apron, through a glass table! Why couldn't that asshole fall?!

Lex Robinson: She runs at him... and Travis ducks down, going for a backdrop, but she is able to twist and turn in mid-air, landing inside of the ring! She came close to being flipped to the floor and through a table, but it wasn't close enough.

Steve Hebert: Thank Christ. She's back in the ring... and she uses the middle rope to leap into the air and kick Travis Miller in the face! Right in the ugly mush of his.

Lex Robinson: He's clinging onto the top rope, though. He refuses to fall off the apron and through that table! With no other choice, Teresa nails a roaring-elbow, which finally sends Travis flying off the apron and through a glass table!

Steve Hebert: Yes! Bloody that motherfucker!

Seconds after he smashes through the table, Teresa moves into the corner and immediately begins climbing to the top rope. The fans hold their breath, thinking something big is coming. However, when she dives off the ropes, she soars through the air, only to land a Buzzard Knee onto Travis, landing hard on the floor!

Steve Hebert: A flying knee to the face! That has to be it! We're going to have a new World Champion! Go for the cover, Teresa!

Lex Robinson: She's locking in a Dragon Sleeper, instead!

Steve Hebert: She should be going for the cover, though!

Lex Robinson: I guess she's going to try and make him submit...

Applying the Dragon Sleeper, Teresa squeezes hard, trying to make Travis Miller tapout in the middle of the shards of glass. He squirms and fights back, though, trying to escape the submission attempt.

Steve Hebert: Quit, you douchebag, quit!

Lex Robinson: He's fighting back, refusing to submit!

Steve Hebert: That's okay. Teresa will only squeeze harder... kind of like an anaconda.

Lex Robinson: Actually, using his size and strength advantage, Travis is able to rise to his feet, with tiny cuts on his back. With his head tucked beneath Teresa's arm, he pushes her into the railing, trying to get the release... and still no go!

Steve Hebert: She's never going to let him go! She has no desire to have her contract shredded. She wants that Ultraviolence Title just so she can rub it in Travis's face.

Travis is still trying to shake her off. Backing her into the railing may not have worked, but he's now holding her into the air, trying to sling her off, but to no avail. It isn't until he steps towards the ring post and swings her headfirst at it that he is able to shake her off and throw her to the floor!

Lex Robinson: You were saying, Steve?

Steve Hebert: He got lucky. That post appeared out of thin air.

Lex Robinson: Rolling back into the ring, Travis Miller stands to his feet, shaking the cobwebs off. Moving into the corner, he takes one of the glass tables, lifts it up and proceeds to stand near the ring ropes closest to Teresa.

Steve Hebert: No, Travis, she will not piss on the table while you jerk off underneath it, you sick fuck.

Lex Robinson: Uh, no, that isn't what he's doing.

Steve Hebert: In that case, she won't shit on it, either.

Lex Robinson: No... no. He's holding the glass table over his head... and throws it down onto Teresa just as she gets back to her feet! It shatters across her back, sending her down in a heap! The fans are roaring out for Miller! Listen to that reaction!

Rolling back outside, Travis kicks Teresa, grabs her by the hair and forces her to her feet. Slamming her face off the apron, he rolls her back inside and slides in after her. He makes a cover, hooking her leg.

Lex Robinson: The cover is made! The referee is making the count...

...1...

Lex Robinson: One...!

...2...

Lex Robinson: Two...!

...

Lex Robinson: No! She kicks out! Travis was so close to retaining!

Steve Hebert: All I can say is "Phew"!

Lex Robinson: In what could be a mistake, Travis Miller rolls to the floor , grabs another glass table and places it on another glass table. He's stacking them up! Grabbing another table, he goes to place another table up onto the top table. He has plans for something...

Steve Hebert: Wait... wait...

As Travis has been building a stack of glass tables on the floor, Teresa Quaranta rises inside of the ring. She views him holding the table up, deciding to burst into action.

Steve Hebert: Teresa is up! See? She's going on the attack!

Slingshotting herself over the top rope, she flies feet-first to the outside, double-kicking the table into Travis Miller's face, smashing it into pieces!

Lex Robinson: Oh no!

Steve Hebert: Yes! Teresa takes him out, lifts him up and pushes him back inside! Kill him, Teresa, kill him!

Lex Robinson: Blood pours down Travis's face, as he desperately tries to stand, only being able to get to a kneeling position. Coming up to him, she gives him a brutal knee to the face, sending some blood flying into the air! And now she's trying to apply the Process of Illumination!

Steve Hebert: Look at her: trashing him to his face. Or to his ear, to be more specific.

In a last ditch effort, Travis backdrops Teresa, sending her flying overhead!

Steve Hebert: ...Shit.

Lex Robinson: Travis escapes danger! Falling down to one knee, he quickly gets back up, turns around... and is met with a spinning-backfist from Teresa, who had gotten straight back up!

Steve Hebert: Good! Go right back on the attack!

Lex Robinson: Striking Travis with a leaping-knee to the chest, knocking the air out of him, she is able to bend him over... and unload with rapid-fire front-kicks!

Steve Hebert: Those kicks are busting him open ever moreso, too!

Lex Robinson: She finishes him off. Boucning off the ropes, she comes storming back... only to run right into a sidewalk slam onto a pile of glass from Miller!

Steve Hebert: Damnit! That wasn't in the plans!

Lex Robinson: Wiping blood off his face, smearing it all over, he grabs Teresa, places her between his legs and hoists her up into a powerbomb position.

Steve Hebert: Oh God...

Lex Robinson: He runs forward...

Headed towards the ropes, he charges forward, powerbombing Teresa from inside of the ring -- to the outside, sending her smashing through the double-stack of glass tables!

Steve Hebert: Jesus Horatio Q. Christ!

Lex Robinson: Teresa has been sent crashing through those tables and to the floor! Miller, who has fallen to his knees, inside of the ring, only has to roll out and make the cover!

Steve Hebert: I sure as fuck hope not. Feeling the damage done to him, Travis can't get out there. I, for one, am glorious.

Lex Robinson: Well, slowly, he rolls out there, but he isn't making record time. Instead of covering her, though, he lifts Teresa up, bashes her face off the ring apron and then rolls her inside the ring. Following after her, he crawls inside and drapes his arm over her chest! Here we go! This is going to be it!

Steve Hebert: Oh no...

The referee makes the count...!

...1...

Lex Robinson: One...!

...2...

Lex Robinson: Two...!

...

Lex Robinson: Thr--...

...

Steve Hebert: No! Teresa kicks out! She rolls her shoulder off the apron at the last second!

Lex Robinson: So, so close!

Steve Hebert: Too close for my liking. Can you imagine if she had lost? No more Teresa Quaranta in Sin Wrestling. What would Mike Phantasy do?!

Lex Robinson: He'd probably be on the run from Chris Extreme, still.

Steve Hebert: How dare you.

The fans who had been counting along are shaken with disappointment. They watch as a bloody Travis Miller slowly stands to his feet, picking Teresa up with him.

Lex Robinson: He's calling for the end! Abandoning Teresa, he grabs a table from one of the corners and sits it next to her. Here we go... he military presses her into the air...!

Steve Hebert: Thumb to the eye! Teresa is able to slide out of his clutches and land behind him! Yes!

Lex Robinson: Teresa then bashes his face off the glass table and forearms him in the neck! Using a grand push, she lays him on the table, grabs the fourth and final table from the other corner and sandwiches him between them!

Steve Hebert: She's up to something... wonderful!

Lex Robinson: "Dastardly" is more like it.

Within seconds, Teresa turns into the corner, jumps onto the middle turnbuckles and then onto the top rope. Flipping backwards through the air, she circles around and lands a springboard moonsault into a double-stomp, smashing the table laying on Miller and sending him through the bottom glass table!

Lex Robinson: Divine Intervention!

Steve Hebert: Through two tables, nonetheless! Even better! There's no way Travis Miller can recover from that!

Lex Robinson: I fear you may be right. Stepping over him, having some cuts on her shoulders and arms, Teresa applies a Dragon Clutch!

Steve Hebert: Make him tap! Make him tap to end his own career! Make him cry, too!

Lex Robinson: The referee checks on Travis... he doesn't submit!

Steve Hebert: Give it time.

Lex Robinson: Travis Miller refuses to quit! In the mound of glass, he tries crawling to the ropes, having the glass tear into his skin!

Steve Hebert: Embarass him! Make him tap!

Lex Robinson: Travis reaches out...! He almost has the bottom rope!

Seeing Miller reach out, Teresa wisely pulls him back, making sure he can't grab any ropes!

Steve Hebert: She drags him away!

Lex Robinson: Things go from bad-to-worse! He still does not quit!

Steve Hebert: Quit, Miller, you goddamn moron.

Lex Robinson: He's drowsy. I don't know how much more pain he can take!

Steve Hebert: Don't worry. Teresa locks the hold in even tigher!

Lex Robinson: This is not good! And yet he refuses to tap our or submit! Stuck in the glass, he can't get to safety... he can't do anything but just lay there and feel the pain!

Steve Hebert: He hasn't felt this bad since he was sodomized by his Uncle Paul at the tender age of 7.

Lex Robinson: He's fading... fading...

Travis Miller is unconscious, no longer able to respond to the referee's questions. As a result, the referee calls for the bell, ending the match, giving Teresa Quaranta the victory via knockout!

Steve Hebert: It's over! The referee calls for the bell!

Lex Robinson: But Travis Miller didn't quit!

Steve Hebert: Probably because he's friggin' dead, you dummy! Look at him... all unconscious and drooling from the mouth like a retard, swimming in his own pool of blood. How appropriate.

The referee gives the Ultraviolence Title to Teresa Quaranta, who receives a thunderous amount of boos. Bending over, she drags her finger across Miller's bloody face, removes her finger and then paints his blood across the Ultraviolence Title!

Lex Robinson: I can't believe it. This means Travis Miller is out of Sin Wrestling. His contract is voided. What an awful way to go out.

Steve Hebert: Hell nah, it's fucking hilarious. He's laying facedown, in a pile of glass. Reminds me of Heath Ledger, who was facedown in a pile of pills. Heath Ledger was fired from life; Travis is fired from Sin Wrestling. Sounds parallel to me.

Lex Robinson: He's not fired, Steve. His contract has been voided.

Several referees are in the ring, helping Travis Miller to his feet. As he stands, he gets a strong ovation from the fans.

Steve Hebert: Listen to these sycophants.

Lex Robinson: They're giving Travis a great applause. He tried his best, but he just couldn't get it done.

Looking dejected, Travis is aided to the back, still receiving cheers from the fans. Before heading backstage, he gives one final look to the crowd and then disappears behind the curtain.

WINNER: Teresa Quaranta

The camera crew is in a taxi, having their taxi stolen from them by Chris Extreme, who sped after Mike Phantasy. The cameraman holds his device out the window, watching the road roll on by, the camera points upward, viewing the limousine from earlier smashed through the wall of a stripclub!

Not only that, but the green jeep has crashed into the back of the limo, looking quite damaged.

Cameraman: Holy hell... they've crashed into that freakin' building!

Crew Member: My God, stop right here. Stop!

The yellow taxi comes to a screeching halt, allowing the crew members to come pouring out. The second crew member hurriedly tips the driver, who revs his car and speeds off, while the cameraman rushes over, viewing a shaken fellow crew member laying in the backseat of the jeep, scared of what he has just gone through.

Nonetheless, the camera swings around, peeking around the brick wall, which has come tumbling down on the stripclub. It focuses inside, showing a crowd of strippers running frantically around, having Mike Phantasy and Chris Extreme bloody themselves in front of them!

Exchanging lefts and rights, Mike and Chris fight onto the stage, where a crowd of ornery, rambunctious Boston men have gathered around, cheering on Chris Extreme's tits, which have taken the advantage. To make matters worse for Mike Phantasy, he tries to get off the stage, but the revellers entrap him, pushing him back on the stage, allowing the pretty Chris Extreme to slap, kick and scrape at Mike!

Dazed and stunned, Mike tries to stay on his feet, but Chris Extreme uses the stripper pole to swing himself around, nailing a swinging kick that would make the sluttiest stripper proud!

Unfortunately, in doing this, he has accidentally exposed his cock, making the rowdy men sick. As Mike goes flying over them, they walk off, disgusted with themselves and questioning their sexuality.

Chris Extreme: What? What? Never seen a sexy lady before?!

Wiping some blood off his face and onto his cock, Chris jumps off the stage. He looks down at his bloody crotch.

Chris Extreme: It's because I'm on my period, isn't it?!

This chatter leads to Mike Phantasy crawling towards the bar, grabbing a stool and getting to his feet. Despite the lasers going off, he is able to staredown Chris Extreme, who doesn't seem Mike charge towards him.

CRASH!

The stool is broken across the back of Chris Extreme, surprising everyone, including the camera crew, who continue to watch the destruction unfold! Wood splinters everywhere and Chris falls to his knees, clearly in a semi-unconscious state.

Grabbing a bottle of beer that had been laying on the bar, Mike smashes it against Chris's skull, shattering it and then uses it to try and stab Chris. With 2 successful lashes, Mike jabs the bottle into Chris's arm, drawing blood. Adding more insult to injury, Mike spits some of his own blood onto Chris, taunting him even moreso.

Giving Chris some slaps to the back of the head, Mike lifts Chris up and then heaves him onto the bar, where he hammers him with some more fists to the face. Climbing onto the bar with Chris, Mike claws and kicks at Chris, who remains down, unable to mount a comeback.

Lifting Chris to a kneeling position, Mike reaches up, pulls down some wine bottles that are hanging overhead and begins repeatedly smashing several bottles off the World Champion's skull! If that wasn't enough, he holds a wine-soaked Chris Extreme close and then hits the Amphora Crush, obliterating the bar, sending it toppling to the ground, much to the horror of the nearby bartender, who gets in Mike's face.

Mike's response to the mindless bickering from the bartender? A simple and effective punch in the face!

Turning his attention back to Chris, Mike collapses on Chris, making the referee make the count.

Not knowing what to do, the referee begins slapping his hand off the floor, onto the wine-soaked floored, which is covered in broken glass and wood!

...1...2...

...

No! Chris Extreme kicks out, much to the everloving joy of the audience, sans the perverts that previously wanted to fuck Chris!

Sitting on his rear end, Mike can't believe it. Slamming his fist off the ground, accidentally causing some damage, he rises to his feet, lifting Chris up with him. Grabbing a nearby stool, he bends Chris over it and pulls down his skirt and underpants, exposing an "M" tattoo, a floppy, flaccid penis and his asshole.

Mike Phantasy: Where's your pussy, huh? Where's your vagina, you pussy?

Mike gives Chris a careless kick between the legs, striking right in the testicles! Chris lets out a loud, screeching howl in response!

Standing back, Mike happily watches Chris cry out in pain and walks over to a pool table. Throwing several of the balls at Chris -- some of which that completely miss its target and smash into several other wine bottles -- Mike grabs a pool cue and walks to Chris with an evil look in his eyes.

Mike Phantasy: You want to be a girl?

He smashes the back of the pool cue against the back of Chris Extreme's skull!

Mike Phantasy: Then get fucked like one.

As Chris remains hunched over, Mike shoves the pool cue into Chris's rectum, sodomizing him with it. With the pool cue hanging perpendicularly out of Chris's asshole, Mike grabs another stool and then swings it at the opposite end of the pool cue!

BAM!

The cue is sent even further into Chris's asshole, making him bleed!

Pulling the cue out of Chris's asshole, Mike watches as Chris falls to the floor, in a bloody heap. Crippling towards the broken bar, Mike takes a swig of some beverage, turns around and spits the contents into Chris's bloody face! With his skirt and underpants still down to his ankles, Chris is lifted to his feet, with Mike pulling him near. Mike bends him over the pool table, smashing Chris's face off the top of it, making sure to leave behind splotches of blood.

Turning Chris around, Mike chops him across the chest several times. Backing up, he goes to measure Chris up and then charges forward. Despite the blood and alcohol in his eyes, Chris views Mike Phantasy storm at him, deciding to grab him at the last second, lift him up and then spinebuster him through the pool table!

For several minutes, both men lay on the ground, with Chris crawling towards Mike Phantasy. Draping his arm across Mike's chest, he makes the cover...

The referee makes the count against the broken portions of the pool table...

...1...2...

...

...No!

Mike pops his shoulder off the ground!

Sitting in stunned silence, Chris goes to rise, having blood drip from his own asshole. Pulling up his underwear and skirt, he readjusts himself, gets to his feet and stumbles over to the broken bar. Grabbing a bottle of wine, Chris grits his teeth, waiting for Mike Phantasy to stand.

Hell, he grabs 4 more bottles, too!

When Mike is on his feet, Chris heaves the bottles at him... but Mike ducks down! The bottle smashes into the cameraman, spilling all over the camera, making the screen begin to fuzz.

Cameraman: Oww! Jesus!

Alcohol is all over the camera, making the screen blurry. The device begins to fade out, losing reception.

Cameraman: Damnit. Work, damnit!

Mike Phantasy lunges at Chris, striking him with a bloody uppercut to the jaw, knocking him towards the bar.

The screen goes fuzzy. The images of Chris and Mike are barely seen.

Cameraman: Goddamnit, we're going to need a new camera.

Mike goes to kick Chris Extreme, only to have his foot blocked. In retaliation, Chris swings him around and--...

The screen goes completely fuzzy.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The familiar screech of tires finally hits the city of Boston, as the ambulance has made it to the arena on time, Chris Carson thankfully there in one piece. The ambulance itself, however, has seen better days--the paint job is scratched all over, windows are busted from the outside-in and the inside-out, and the siren is broken. It's as if Carson drove the hell out of this vehicle with the intent to destroy it!

Carson stumbles out of the ambulance, obviously having trouble standing after such a rush of a ride. He quickly empties a carton of cigarettes and stuffs five into his mouth, lighting up each one simultaneously. He takes a huge drag and exhales from the afterglow.

Chris Carson: Holy... FUCK did I need that! What a nicotine charge! I can take on the entire Ashton FAMILY now!

Carson slams the door shut, only for the door to fall off its hinges. Carson slowly acts surprised, as if he is a drunk rock star. Hell, he could be drunk.

Chris Carson: Geez! Be careful with that thing!

Carson's arrival has, of course, awakened the hometown fans, and they instantly crowd around him. Carson, wanting nothing more than to get on with the fight, tries to push his way through the fans...

Random Male Fan: Carsoooooon!

Random Female Fans: CREEP! CREEP! CREEP!

Chris Carson: Yeah, yeah. I love you fuckers, too.

Carson tries to randomly sign things, but his focus is obviously not on signing items. He finally pushes through the crowd and stops in front of three particular fans--two fat male twins in matching Carson jerseys and one leggy blonde in a blue dress.

Chris Carson: Holy shit. One smokin' babe and three chubbies.

The guys look at each other and adjust their shirts.

Twin #1: Hey! Our sister's not fat!

Twin #2: Yeah! And we aren't either!

Chris Carson: I was referrin' to the chubby in my pants, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. And I assume this is my Alice for Wonderland?

Alice: Why, yes, indeed, Carson.

Chris Carson: Stop callin' me Carson. He's got the night off. The Creep's back in fuckin' Boston, and he's gonna throw Corey friggin' Ashton off of the Zakim Bridge tonight

! The crowd starts up another CREEP! CREEP! chant, only for one of the twins to shove his shirt in Carson's hand.

Twin #1: S...sign this for me, dude!

Twin #2: Mine too! We're big Carson fans!

Carson flicks his cigarettes away.

Chris Carson: I said...

Carson lays a huge headbutt against #2's face, sending him reeling with an instant bloody nose.

Chris Carson: DON'T CALL ME CARSON!

Carson grabs at #2's face with his right hand, then yanks his hand back. He signs a sloppy "CREEP" on #1's shirt, then shoves him away.

Chris Carson: No more Mr. Pussy Pants. The Creep is here to party. But first...how about we explore a little around the rabbit hole, Alice, hmm?

Alice is almost wetting her dress as Carson comes in close, only for a voice to clear behind him. Carson pauses a moment and turns to see the interruption, only to come face to face with Corey Page.

Corey Page: Creep.

Chris Carson: Page. What can I do you for? I was about to have Alice here drink me.

Page does little else but push an envelope and a CD into Carson's hands.

Corey Page: First off, thanks for taking Ashton down a peg.

Chris Carson: I'm doin' this for ME, Page. Not you. Once I have a little romp in the hay, I'll be ready to push Ashton off the edge.

Corey Page: That's fine. I don't mind you partying in your home town, but... perhaps you ought to see the words of encouragement from your son. I'm sure he says hi.

Carson's brow wrinkles a moment, and he has to hold at his forehead as if the hangover has caught up with him. He looks at the card and video, then looks visibly pissed at something.

Chris Carson: Fucking... killjoy.

Carson stomps off camera, the crowd silent as they watch Carson head off. Page dusts off his hands, then turns to "Alice".

Corey Page: Now. How about we get out the tea bags?

The crowd looks disgusted and disperses rather quickly, Page left with the two twins rolling on the ground.

Corey Page: What? I thought this was a tea party!

Confused, he throws his arms up into the air and shrugs. Fade out.

BOOM

"Mad World" by Gary Jules comes on over the P.A. system as the arena fades to black. White strobes begin to flash in three second intervals as Redmaine steps outs from the backstage area. He pauses at the entrance and holds both arms in they air, as his teammate for tonight's event, Koen, steps out behind him. The two men walk to the ringside area, headed straight for the ring, with Redmaine being the first to enter. Instead of stepping onto the ring apron, like Redmaine, Koen walks up the ring steps and enters that way. Both men step into the ring and await for the arrival of their opponents.

Steve Hebert: These are two bad dudes, Lex. Redmaine has stated that a war is coming and Koen has supposedly joined his ranks, helping to bring this war. The first people in their path, it appears, is Cameron Blake and Hailey Faith, whom have suffered at the hands of Redmaine several times.

Lex Robinson: You're correct, Steve. In fact, it was just last week, at the previous Eternity, that Redmaine lost to Hailey Faith... only to unleash some justice onto her. As he was beating her down, Cameron Blake went to make the save... only to be blindsided by Koen, who entered from the fans, attacking him from behind. It was a despicable attack, too, might I add.

Steve Hebert: And the old douchebag, Cameron Blake, had to be rescued by a girl, haha. So much for him being the shining white knight. Turns out he couldn't get the job done.

Lex Robinson: He didn't see the attack coming. How can you blame him?

Steve Hebert: Real men have eyes in the back of their head. Eyes in the back of their head and a knife to stab in someone's back. That's what I say.

Lex Robinson: That's what makes you, you; and everyone else, everyone else.

Steve Hebert: Damn right.

"In the End" by Linkin Park chimes in over the P.A.. White smoke fills the stage as the lights dim to nothingness. The spotlight shines down upon the stage as Cameron Blake appears amidst the swirling fog, with Hailey Blake at his side, getting cheered on by the fans. Cameron looks out at the crowd, while Hailey bursts forward, having Cameron run shortly behind her. Together, they slide in at the ring at the same time, ready to begin things.

Lex Robinson: Here we go! Hailey and Cameron slide inside...

Steve Hebert: Redmaine and Koen aren't going to waste a single second! As fast as those other two shitbags slide inside, they quickly go after them.

Lex Robinson: Remember: there's no tags needed. Everyone will be legal at the same time. It'll be contested under a Tornado rules.

Steve Hebert: This'll give Redmaine and Koen the perfect opportunity to beatdown and demoralize Cameron and Hailey, in my opinion, which bodes well them... and for me.

Lex Robinson: Obviously.

Steve Hebert: Look at this, here they go. Redmaine and Koen are instantly on Cameron and Hailey, just as they slide inside. They kick and stomp at them, drag them to their feet and now unload with some punches. That's what I like to see. Kick the snot out of them. Show them that you're war is here.

Lex Robinson: Redmaine has Cameron Blake and is wailing away on him. Koen, meanwhile, has Hailey Faith and is punching the life out of her. At the same time, they Irish-whip their opponents across the ring... wait, no... Hailey and Cameron reverse the whip, sending the others into the ropes. Redmaine returns... and is struck with a dropkick from Cameron, while Hailey hits a sit-down dropkick to Koen's right knee! Redmaine rolls out of the ring...

Both Cameron and Hailey focus on Koen. They double-whip him across the ring, with Cameron catching him upon rebound, holding him up with a bearhug-lift. This allows for Hailey to come storming off the ropes, jump into the air and hit a spin-wheel kick on an elevated Koen!

Lex Robinson: Wow! What unity displayed by Hailey Faith and Cameron Blake! With no other choice, Koen slips to the outside, standing next to Redmaine, trying to catch their breath.

Steve Hebert: Goddamnit. This isn't how things were supposed to start.

Lex Robinson: Not for Redmaine and Koen, that's for sure. Cameron and Hailey are bouncing off the ropes...

In unison, Cameron and Hailey bounce off the furthest set of ropes. They spring back, running towards Redmaine and Koen, who remain in a daze on the floor. Hailey dives over the middle rope, suicide diving onto Redmaine; while Cameron Blake intersects by leaping over the top rope with a tope con hilo onto Koen!

Lex Robinson: Holy crap! Cameron Blake and Hailey Faith take out Redmaine and Koen in one shot! They leap over each other, too!

Steve Hebert: Meh. Don't worry. It's still early. They'll come back. They have to.

The fight continues on the floor, where Hailey begins to batter Redmaine with chops, while Cameron Blake kicks and stomps on a fallen Koen. Grabbing him by the hair, Cameron hoists him up and rolls him inside.

Lex Robinson: Cameron is up on the apron, now; with Koen inside. Climbing onto the turnbuckles, he rises into the air, waiting for Koen to stand. He flies...

Steve Hebert: No! Cameron is caught by Koen, who catches him in mid-air and powerslams him onto the canvas! Thank God... even though Koen would probably take offense to that. Poor praise his name.

Lex Robinson: Seeing this, Hailey goes to roll into the ring, but Redmaine holds her off, shrugging off her slaps and chops. Pulling her back outside, he pounds on Hailey, bashes her face off the apron and then whips her into the ring railing! Damn!

Steve Hebert: Good! This allows for Redmaine to slide inside. Right away, he grabs Cameron from behind -- thankfully -- and full-nelsons him. Within seconds, he sends Cameron flying overhead with a release full-nelson suplex!

Lex Robinson: Drops him right on his head!

Helping Koen get to his feet, both men double-team Cameron Blake, kicking and stomping him down, flattening him onto the canvas, making him unable to pull himself away from the ropes.

Lex Robinson: They've got Cameron Blake cornered, smashing him with some fists against the ropes. They whip him out and catch him on the rebound with a double-team fallaway slam! Ouchies! Cameron Blake faceplants into the canvas!

Steve Hebert: Face, meet that awful, smelly canvas. It probably smells worse than Hailey Faith's cunt, which smells ten times worse than tuna.

Lex Robinson: Oh, stop it.

Steve Hebert: I'm not kidding.

Lex Robinson: In any event, Redmaine and Koen are doing a number on Cameron Blake, who can only slide into the corner, receiving some jarring kicks, in the process. Taking Cameron to his feet, they continue to hammer him with punches and then whip him across the ring, into the opposite corner. Here comes Redmaine, nailing a running-forearm to Cameron, in the corner! Koen follows in...

Steve Hebert: Agh! No!

Lex Robinson: --but he's cut-off by Hailey Faith, who slides into the ring and drop-toe-holds Koen!

Steve Hebert: That wasn't supposed to happen!

Lex Robinson: And how 'bout this?

Seeing Hailey in the ring, Redmaine charges at her, going for a clothesline, which she ducks. From behind, she connects with a dropkick to the back of Redmaine's head, sending him sprawling towards Cameron Blake.

Lex Robinson: Missing a clothesline, Redmaine goes falling into a running-clothesline from Cameron Blake!

Steve Hebert: I'm sure that wasn't in the plans, either.

Lex Robinson: Yeah, seriously. Cameron and Hailey are going back on the attack, now, doing some double-teaming. They're not allowing Koen to stand, pummelling him with kicks to the head. In fact, Hailey even grabs his right ankle and is attempting to perform the "Hailstorm", but he fights back with a chop to her throat!

Steve Hebert: Good! A smart move from Koen, who gets to his knees, blocking a kick from Cameron, only to drag him down with a single-leg takedown. Soon, he even elbowdrops Cameron, making sure to keep him down, not wanting him to rise. Keep that gothic douche down, Koen, you god-hating son of a bitch.

Standing back to his feet, Koen notices Hailey stumble around, holding her throat. Coming from behind, he grabs hold of her and grabs her by the hair, gripping her with a reverse-facelock, only to drop her down with a reverse-DDT!

Steve Hebert: Yes! Down goes "the whore", as Redmaine calls her. Speaking of, here he comes, stomping on Hailey... then kicking at Cameron Blake, making sure that douche doesn't rise.

Lex Robinson: Eh, Redmaine commands Koen to lift Cameron up, which he obliges. Hoisting Cameron onto his shoulders with a reverse-fireman's carry, Koen holds him in place, allowing for Redmaine to come up on him. They hit a Samoan Drop/neckbreaker combination! Redmaine makes the cover...

Steve Hebert: Yes! He even hooks a leg!

The referee makes the count...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two... and...

...

Lex Robinson: Cameron Blake makes the save!

Steve Hebert: That awful prick.

Lex Robinson: Luckily for he and Hailey, he was able to leap through the air and push Redmaine off. Of course, Koen is quick to respond to this by beating Cameron Blake down, even stomping at his head.

Steve Hebert: Kick him until cerebellum is pouring out of that asshole's ears.

Soon, Redmaine joins Koen in stomping at Cameron, only to turn his attention back to Hailey Faith. Yanking on her hair, he goes to lift her to her feet... only to receive an elbow to the stomach.

Lex Robinson: Redmaine is caught by surprise with that elbow from Hailey!

Steve Hebert: Terrible.

Lex Robinson: She nails a European uppercut... and then hits him with the Miami Sunrise! She's covering him!

Steve Hebert: But Koen isn't even paying attention! Oh no, this might be it...

The count is made...

...1...2...

Steve Hebert: Redmaine kicks out! Yes! His shoulder is up!

Lex Robinson: Oh boy, that was close.

Steve Hebert: Too f'n close. Turning around, after driving Cameron out onto the apron with an exploder suplex, Koen walks over, finally seeing Hailey barely lay atop Redmaine. Almost as surprised as me, he runs over, grabs her by the hair and plucks her to her feet. Giving her a vicious slap, he is immediately welted with a slap from her, as well! Goddamnit, that was an awful strike.

Lex Robinson: Koen fights back with a forearm of his own, though. In fact, he goes for a second straight forearm... but she ducks! She jumps on his back, applying a sleeperhold!

Steve Hebert: Uh oh. Oh Jesus.

Lex Robinson: She's clinging tightly, while Koen is flailing. Using the corner to rise, Redmaine looks over his shoulder, sensing danger. Walking into the mix, he grabs Hailey and furiously throws her off Koen, heaving her to the ground.

Steve Hebert: Good! Kick the bitch's teeth down her throat.

Lex Robinson: Quite frankly, that's not too far from reality, seeing them both stomp at Hailey. They're not letting her stand, at all. And the fans are not liking it, whatsoever.

In the midst of this beatdown on Hailey Faith, Cameron Blake is able to rise, seeing the damage being laid down onto his partner. Quickly moving in, he spins Redmaine around, kicks him in the gut and then swinging DDTs him!

Lex Robinson: Cameron Blake takes issue with this beatdown, though! He takes down Koen! Jumping back up, he focuses on Redmaine, who tries to stop this swing of momentum. He kicks Redmaine in the gut, as well! Cameron is hooking him up for the "Broken Wings"!

Steve Hebert: Redmaine says "Fuck you" to that! Hammering Cameron with some elbows to the back of the neck, Redmaine holds himself in place, prompting him to apply a front-facelock, trying to wear him down. Keep that weird, gothic faggot in place, Redmaine!

Lex Robinson: His arms flailing wildly, Cameron tries to free himself, but is met with kneelifts from Redmaine, keeping him floored! Koen re-enters the fray, now, allowing Redmaine to toss Cameron towards him.

Steve Hebert: As a matter of fact, Koen latches onto him, applies a reverse-facelock and hits his move -- "Light of Life I"! Yes! My God, yes!

Lex Robinson: Cameron's face has been driven directly into the mat!

Steve Hebert: Which is right where it belongs.

Lex Robinson: The former Ultraviolence Champion is down and out!

Steve Hebert: And this time he won't be able to be saved by a woman. He's freakin' out.

Lex Robinson: To the right, Hailey Faith is on her feet, albeit a tad groggy. With vigor, she goes running at Redmaine and jumps at him with a front handspring bodyscissors. As she springs into the air, she attempts to bring him down, but he holds his ground.

Steve Hebert: He slides her off... and he locks on Wings of Truth I! Yes! Kill the bitch!

Lex Robinson: Oh no... oh no... oh god no... she's in big, big trouble!

Struggling to break free, she wails outloud, only to be slammed to the ground and instantly has Redmaine's legs wrap around her body, bodyscissoring her!

Steve Hebert: This is going to be it! Koen is even stomping at her horrifyingly awful face! Quit, you old bag, quit!

The referee moves in, checking on Hailey's status. Within seconds, she is quitting the match, officially giving Redmaine and Koen the victory!

Steve Hebert: Yes! It's over! I told you the War has started! Victims number one: Hailey Faith and Cameron Blake!

Lex Robinson: Aw, man. What a tough loss.

Steve Hebert: Tough loss? Schmough loss, I say. Redmaine and Koen beat the ever-loving shit out of those douchebags. The fact that Cameron Blake is a former Ultraviolence Champion is just pitiful. He couldn't even return the favor and save Hailey Faith. What a man. What a sad, gigantic sack of puss.

Lex Robinson: ...Uh, wow.

Redmaine relinquishes his hold on Hailey. Standing to his feet, both he and Koen give Cameron and Hailey a few more stomps, prompting the referee to move in and give them a walking to. In response to this, the fans heavily jeer them, with Redmaine showing no emotion, casually peering down onto his two victims.

Lex Robinson: Sin Wrestling needs to watch out. As of tonight, the War is here.

Steve Hebert: Hey, I told you so.

Lex Robinson: There's going to be trouble coming. I can sense that.

Steve Hebert: Understatement of the year.

Receiving more jeers, Koen and Redmaine exit the ring. Walking to the back, they listen to the boos spill in, paying no attention to them. Before they disappear behind the curtain, they turn around, face the fans and Hailey Faith and Cameron Blake, who are still down on the ground. Redmaine smirks, gets the crowd riles up and then disappears behind the curtain, with Koen in tow.

Lex Robinson: The fans hate this sick, twister mother--

Steve Hebert: Hey, watch your mouth. Only I can do the cursing and swearing 'round here.

Before the cameras fade out, they show Cameron Blake checking on Hailey Faith. All together, things don't look good for them.

WINNER: Redmaine and Koen

There's a new camera in use and it's catching Mike Phantasy and Chris Extreme brawling in Boston Harbour! They are up to their knees in water, exchanging random back-and-forth punches, with each shot knocking each of them back, with the referee standing nearby, also getting wet. Luckily, the water helps to wash some of the blood off each other.

Even so, they continue to blast each other with shots. Mike straights with some right hands. Chris returns by firing some forearms and chops to Mike, who almost slips and falls completely into the water. Wrapping his bloody arm around Mike's head, Chris suplexes Mike completely into the water, making a great splash!

Mike pops up, like a drowned rat, gasping for oxygen! However, Chris immediately grabs him and begins holding his head underwater! Seeing this, the referee moves in, begging Chris to release the hold.

Referee: That's enough! Let him up!

Chris Extreme: This is a Street Fight! No disqualification! No rules! Go to fuck.

Mike Phantasy's hands frantically splash about, his body slowly being deprived of oxygen as the seconds tick away! Ironically, the only thing he can do is apply a Testicle Claw of his own on Chris Extreme, which gets the job done! Chris is forced to release the hold and Mike pops out of the water, gasping for air!

In response to the previous attempted drowning, Mike grabs Chris and then dunks his head underwater! Just like Mike Phantasy before him, Chris squirms and struggles to breathe! The referee and the camera crew can only stand by, having a concerned look on their face.

The only way to escape this dangerous predicament is to latch onto Mike and flip him overhead with a backdrop into the water!

They both take some time to recover and try to gain their breath, with Mike having swallowed lots of waters. Soon, they turn back to each other, hanging on to each other by the throat and return to swatting and punching at each other until they're back on land, headed towards the road.

With the ground on their feet, they fight onto a highway, with Mike almost being whipped in front of an incoming speedy car by Chris Extreme! Fortunately, the car hits the brakes and Mike brushes off the bonnet. Finding an alternative form of action, Chris grabs Mike by the hair and slams his face off the bonnet of this white car, which speeds away, in horror!

A bus pulls up, allowing passengers to board and unboard. Shortly after having some passengers step off, some more step on, being followed by Chris and Mike, who brawl all around the street, with Chris having smashed Mike's face off a road sign!

Leaving behind bloodtrails, the duo get on the bus, climbing in through the entrance, with the cameraman about to hop on-board, as well. Before he can, the door to the bus snaps shut, blocking him out! There's a ruckus on the bus, as people watch the two competitors beat the snot out of each other -- literally. Chris has plugged two fingers into Mike's nose and is prying both boogers and blood out of it, making him drip all over the transportation vehicle!

In any event, the driver rides off, not minding the incessant brawling happening, which soon spills towards the back of the bus. Not allowed to board, the cameraman can only videotape the carnage as the two former-allies create carnage at the back of the bus, like two troublesome high school youths!

The bus rides off, with the camera chasing after it; but his weight being far too much to carry. Looking around, he and his partner look for a ride, wishing to travel behind the bus. Within seconds, a colleague comes up to them, driving a black Ford truck, just like a douchebag. They hop aboard, wanting to drive after the action.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The cameras return to ringside, showing Steve Hebert and Lex Robinson sitting at their announcing table.

Steve Hebert: Jesus Christ, they're fighting on a bus, now!

Lex Robinson: Wow... we've got to keep following Chris Extrene and Mike Phantasy, no matter what.

Steve Hebert: Seriously. Who's on next, Lex?

Lex Robinson: Oh, well, it's a doozy! Kerry Windsor versus Stevie Swing, with the Television Title and $20 million freaking dollars at stake! Plus, if Kerry Windsor loses, he has to join Stevie Swing's cult of freaks and retards.

Steve Hebert: They prefer to be called "special". Besides, they're the department of ham.

Lex Robinson: Uh... well, it's H.A.R.M.

Steve Hebert: Ham is what Horatio Q. told me. Hell, it's not like I understand a word he says, anyhow. I was close enough.

"It's Goin' Down" by The X-Ecutioners and Mike Shinoda begins playing and the audience goes wild for Kerry Windsor, who steps out onto the stage. Pantomiming a vagina with his hands, he pops his head through the shape, pretending to get stuck, mocking Stevie's entrance all the while. Some decent pyro explode behind him, and he'd probably get a little more shit going on if he adds an entrance to his bio. Steve Hebert: I hate this douche. Someone needs to take this faggy-haired douche out with a sniper rifle.

Lex Robinson: Come on now, Steve. You don't want that.

Steve Hebert: I truly do. Faggiest Television Champ, ever. And what's with his on-again/off-again flirting with Chelsea Pryce? And why does he want to fuck her daughter? He's a pedophile. He needs to be locked up. He'll be featured on a Law & Order episode one of these days.

Anyway, Windsor slides into the ring, unstrapping the TV title from his waist and holding it high above his head, before tossing it to an official at ringside. Steve Hebert: Yeah, toss that belt so carelessly, you'll never see it again, faggio!

The arena plunges into complete darkness, sending the fans at ringside into a total frenzy. Some flip open their cell phones, others hold their lighters up, all trying to get a glimpse of what’s going on. After about a minute of total black, a simple drums-and-claps loop kicks in over the house speakers. Some fans start to clap along, but this stops quickly, as a giant, fiber-optics-and-glass vagina descends from the ceiling, emitting flashes of blinding white light to the beat. When the vagina finally touches down, the lights die again, causing the crowd to boo. They’re quickly drowned out by the opening lines from Justice’s “D.A.N.C.E.,” which is so loud that it echos.

Do the D.A.N.C.E
1234, fight!
Stick to the B.E.A.T
Get ready to ignite
You were such a P.Y.T
Catching all the lights
Just easy as A.B.C
That's how we make it right
Do the D.A.N.C.E
Stick to the B.E.A.T
Just easy as A.B.C
.

The music cuts out and the vagina lights up again, revealing a rather long-legged silhouette. Knowing who this is, the fans continue to boo…

DO THE DANCE!
DO THE DANCE!

With those six words, the lips of the glass vagina part. Out bursts Stevie Swing, wearing an opulent ring jacket, flanked by Horatio Q. and the Department of H.A.R.M.: Illegally Blonde, Porkins, Generic Heel, and CAPS LOCK. If Stevie is aware of the absolute hate the fans have for her, she doesn’t show it, as she slowly makes her way to the ring, Horatio Q. whispering sweet nothings in her ear as the lights strobe.

Lex Robinson: And now we have Stevie Swing and half of the 2009 Sin roster approaching.

Steve Hebert: What the hell is with all the acronyms and letters?

The Department of H.A.R.M. lift Stevie onto the ring apron, where she strikes a dramatic pose before flipping backwards into the ring, her hair and outfit unfazed. A spotlight shines down on Stevie as “D.A.N.C.E.” hits its bridge:

Under the spotlights
Neither black nor white
It doesn’t matter
Do the dance!
Do the dance!

As the song repeats itself, Stevie casually dances a bit, shimmying her way out of her ring robe, revealing the equally elaborate leotard underneath. As the robe falls to the mat, Horatio Q. barks orders at the Department of H.A.R.M., which sends Generic Heel and Porkins scrambling to pick up Stevie’s ring robe. Stevie takes off her sunglasses and hands those to CAPS LOCK, who guards them with his life as the Department of H.A.R.M. leave with Stevie’s things, leaving her and Horatio Q. to discuss strategy as Stevie warms up for the upcoming match.

Kerry Windsor steps back into the ring, eyeing Stevie, as the referee motions for the bell! Swing and Windsor quickly approach, and Windsor lunges first, looking to catch Stevie with a grapple. She ducks, and tags the back of Kerry's leg with a lightning-quick chop block, before rebounding to the ropes and smashing Windsor on the return with a low dropkick right to his face!

Lex Robinson: We start off with a bang, and I expect this match to stay fast paced, as neither of these two has a lower gear to their style!

Steve Hebert: I'm more of a hardcore fan, but any time Kerry Windsor's getting kicked in the mouth, I'm pretty happy.

Lex Robinson: Low maintenence, I see, Steve. You'll still be happy, though, seeing as Stevie's kick has sent Kerry rolling all the way under the rope and outside the ring on our side. Stevie's up quick, lining Windsor up as he rises...

Steve Hebert: Corkscrew plancha takes Kerry out on the arena floor! Go Stevie! Go Stevie!

Stevie sneers at the fans for a moment, before pausing to gesture toward a familiar figure in the audience -- Kelvin Coolidge! He's in the front row with random fans, and holding a huge sign that says "STEVIE RULZ."

Lex Robinson: There's a familiar face, what's he going to blow up this time?

Steve Hebert: That's Redmaine's deal, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Really? Damn, I can't keep track of these people anymore. Stevie rolls back in the ring, and argues with the referee about the logical inconsistencies of freewill with an omniscient god...

Steve Hebert: Whoa, what? You caught that?

Lex Robinson: ...but meanwhile, Kerry finally rises, only to be fiercely slapped upside the face by Kelvin, who flips him off and grabs his crotch, taunting him all the while.

Steve Hebert: Just what that douche needed, too: a slap upside the head.

Lex Robinson: Kerry seems to very strongly consider knocking him the heck out in response, but he wisely remembers that there's a lot of money and a title at stake. Much to his desire, he heads back into the ring.

Steve Hebert: ...Where Stevie promptly yanks him through the ropes, and snaps him to the ground with a hangman-style neckbreaker. Cover from Stevie!

The referee counts...!

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two... no! Kerry gets a shoulder up! Stevie shakes her head in frustration, but quickly corrals her emotions and stands up; crouched, waiting for Windsor to rise.

In the meantime, security is dragging a maligned Kelvin Coolidge out of the front row, bringing him to the back.

Lex Robinson: Stevie looks like she's lining up... Last Dance! No! Windsor catches her foot and quickly spins, snapping her to the mat with a dragon screw!

Steve Hebert: They're taking Kelvin Coolidge out of here! How dare they?!

Lex Robinson: He isn't allowed to place his hands on anyone. So, as a result, he's out of here!

Steve Hebert: Ridiculous!

Stevie tumbles into the ropes, and works to extricate herself from the ropes, but not before Windsor finally gets a chance to go on the offensive. Kerry smashes several forearms into her back, a few elbows to her jaw, and springboards to the adjacent ropes, and on the return, missile dropkicks Swing right through the ropes she's caught in!

Lex Robinson: Stevie goes flying to the outside!

Steve Hebert: Oh no! She lands right at Horatio Q.'s feet! Help her up, Horatio. Help your little Steviepoo.

Horatio Q. immediately comes to Stevie's aid, helping her to her feet and whispering sweet nothings all the while. Unfortunately for him, Kerry Windsor comes crashing down upon him and Stevie with a vaulting splash to the outside!

Steve Hebert: Disqualify the maggot! How dare he hit Horatio Q, his eminence.

Lex Robinson: Now you're just making shit up when you don't have anything else to say. Kerry takes out both Stevie and Horatio with the vault, and now he's quickly moving to toss Stevie back into the ring, but she ducks his grip! She rams him into the apron, back first, and then whips him right into the ring steps!

Steve Hebert: That'll knock the pretty off his face!

Stevie rolls Kerry quickly back inside. Standing on the apron, she watches as Kerry is on his hands and knees, deciding to slingshot herself inside. On her way down, she cradles Kerry and rolls him up into a pinfall...!

Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing rolls Kerry Windsor, the Television Champion, up...!

Steve Hebert: This is going to be it! I just know it!

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: No! Kerry breaks Stevie's hold.

Steve Hebert: Agh! Why?!

Both competitors rise to their feet, with Stevie ducking a wild swing of Kerry's, only to gouge him in the eyes! Suddenly, everyone's attention turns towards the entrance.

Steve Hebert: What's going on up at the stage? Is that...

Lex Robinson: It's the man that has been watching, as of late...

Steve Hebert: It's Jean-Paul Lacklan!

Lex Robinson: And he's got the Knocker! His eyes aren't straying an inch from Stevie Swing! This cannot be good for the "Dancing Queen of Sin Wrestling"!

Looking at the entrance, Stevie views Lacklan stand silently by. This lapse in attention proves to be usefor for Kerry, who connects with a superkick of his own on her!

Lex Robinson: Will it be an ironic Last Dance for Stevie Swing? Windsor with the cover!

The referee counts...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

...

Steve Hebert: No! Thank god!

Lex Robison: Stevie gets a shoulder up and Kerry can't believe it! He goes for another cover, this time hooking both legs tight!

Again, the count is made...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: Again, no! Stevie grabs the closest ropes with one of her arms to break the count!

Steve Hebert: That moron, Windsor, left her too close to the ropes for a cover. That's bush-league, amateur stuff. That's not how a champion wrestles!

Kerry Windsor lifts Stevie to her feet, applies a standing-headscissors and hits a cradle-piledriver!

Lex Robinson: Stevie's motionless, between that piledriver and the superkick, she needs to turn things around fast or it'll be too late for her in this match!

Steve Hebert: Windsor's going up top to finish her!

Upon seeing this, Horatio Q. stirs, jumps on the apron and "accidentally" pushes Kerry Windsor!

Lex Robinson: Hey! Horatio can't do that!

Steve Hebert: He's Horatio Q., Lex. He can do whatever he wants! He owns you.

Lex Robinson: He lost control of Sin Wrestling months ago, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Whoops. We'll he's still better than you.

Kerry Windsor crashes beside Stevie on the mat! The referee yells at Horatio, telling him to get down, while Stevie makes the cover.

Steve Hebert: This is going to be it! 20 million dollars for Stevie and Kerry Windsor has to join his gang of lovable misfits!

The referee turns around and makes the count...

...1...

...

Steve Hebert: Come on...!

...

Lex Robinson: It's close...

...2...

Lex Robinson: Kerry Windsor kicks out!

Steve Hebert: Son of a whore!

Stevie punches the mat, showing signs of frustration, stands to her feet and drags Kerry upward with her. She clinches him and lifts him up... and nails the Cosmic Slop vertebreaker! She mounts him, pounding fist after fist into Kerry's face and head!

Lex Robinson: Stevie's snapped! She finally ceases her barrage, but only after the referee literally drags her off Kerry with the threat of a disqualification!

Steve Hebert: Hell no. The referee can't do that. He can't ruin Stevie's winning streak like that!

Lex Robinson: She won't stay back, though, shoving him to the corner and burying one of those platform boots across his throat! Come on, ref, break this up!

Steve Hebert: Hell no! She's got till the five-count; use every last second!

Lex Robinson: She finally breaks the choke and lifts Kerry to his feet, in the corner. She turns toward Lacklan, who is still on the stage, glaring at him as she rams several elbows into Kerry's face, before delivering a roaring elbow to finish off the sequence, a common Lacklan trademark!

Steve Hebert: I wouldn't exactly piss him off; I can't see much of his face under that mask, but what I can see looks like it's been constipated for a few decades.

Kerry slumps to the mat, and Stevie vaults to the top rope! Getting jeered by the fans, she puts on her little Jew hat and dives off.

Steve Hebert: Five Star of David down onto Windsor!

Lex Robinson: ...No! Kerry gets a boot up, and it damn near snaps Stevie's head off on the landing! God, that looked painful!

Steve Hebert: I'd still fuck what remains of her face.

Lex Robinson: ...

Steve Hebert: I'm just sayin'.

It's a few moments before Kerry and Stevie are back to their feet; Kerry looking considerably battered, and Stevie clutching her neck painfully. Stevie spots Kerry first and gets to her feet. Before he can react, she's throwing a barrage of chops across his chest, drawing "oohs and ahhs" from the crowd, leaving Kerry cringing in the corner!

Lex Robinson: Stevie pulling out her brawling gloves for what we thought would be a high-flying affair... and it's working! Kerry doesn't seem to have an answer for this onslaught!

Steve Hebert: Maybe the douchebag does, Lex. He takes advantage of the slightest opening to duck Stevie's next blow and rams his forearm into her neck! So much for honorable wrestling!

Lex Robinson: Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. The blow staggers Stevie, and before she can reclaim the momentum, Windsor clinches a reverse headlock and drops, driving Stevie neck-first into his knee!

Barely releasing Stevie, Kerry shifts her onto the mat in a modified surfboard stretch, with him pulling back on her head and one of her arms. She screams, but grabs the nearby ropes with her free hand, screaming for the referee to break the hold!

Steve Hebert: Make him break the damn hold! This isn't fair at all!

Lex Robinson: He's got to the full five-count, Steve.

Steve Hebert: ...

Lex Robinson: I'm just sayin'.

Kerry Windsor finally releases the hold, and Stevie rolls away quickly, trying to get space between herself and Kerry. He follows though, and attempts to yank her to her feet, but she clinches his head and drops, staggering him with a jawbreaker!

Lex Robinson: Horatio's bellowing at the referee for something or other...and that allows Stevie to crush a knee into Kerry's groin unseen! How fair is that for you, Steve?

Steve Hebert: As a man, I died a little on the inside. As a Stevie Swing fan, I see her smashing my helpless testicles...and I die a little on the inside.

Lex Robinson: ...maybe on the inside of your pants. Ugh. Kerry's rising, painfully slow and near helpless... and he ducks a wild Last Dance attempt from Stevie! Whoa, I think he saw his career flash before his eyes!

Steve Hebert: Or at least his life savings. Now, Stevie ducks a clothesline from Kerry and runs to the ropes... shining wizard on the return!

Stevie smashes her boot into Kerry's face, leaving him stunned and almost unconscious on his feet! She vaults to the top rope, and leaps at Kerry with a hurracanrana!

Lex Robinson: Kerry shifts his weight, and Stevie can't flip him! Kerry's still got her by the legs, and yanks her back up onto his shoulders! Half-spin and he leaps forward, crashing Stevie face first across the top turnbuckle with an electric chair drop!

Steve Hebert: Oh my god, what could that have done to her neck and face?! Where's the humanity?

Lex Robinson: It's on the top rope with Kerry Windsor right now. He dives off, crashing the Graceful Apocalypse across Stevie's unmoving form! He goes for the cover!

Steve Hebert: No, no, no... no!

Kerry makes the pinfall, hooking Stevie's leg...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

...

Steve Hebert: No!

...3!

Lex Robinson: Yes! Kerry Windsor does it! He has retained the Television Title!

The referee calls for the bell and Kerry's music begins playing! He raises his arms in victory, looking terribly worse for wear, but amazingly happy at both defending his title and winning ridiculous sums of money!

Lex Robinson: Not only has he retained, but he has also won 20 million dollars! Jet skis, helicopters and gold chains are in his future!

Steve Hebert: Maybe he can buy himself a decent haircut. Simply disgusting.

Lex Robinson: The referee hands Kerry his title back; and he's holding it high over his head, revelling in the crowd's celebration!

Steve Hebert: He'd better enjoy it, because bad things are coming faster than he thinks! Lacklan's ringside, he just laid out Horatio Q., and now he is sliding inside the ring!

Lex Robinson: Oh no, Kerry, watch out!

Kerry Windsor crashes to the mat, unconscious, courtesy of a mighty Knocker blow from Jean-Paul Lacklan! He's unceremoniously shoved out of the ring, before Lacklan begins whalloping Stevie with the sickening Knocker strikes!

Steve Hebert: This isn't wrestling, this is illegal! I love it... but I'm so torn!

Lex Robinson: While I agree with you on principle, this is Sin Wrestling. I've seen rape, genital mutilation, murder...what's a hammer attack? A 3 out of 10 on the "Holy Fuck" scale?

Steve Hebert: Still, it just ain't right! I love it, but I can't condone it. It's Stevie Swing. Why is he doing this?!

Lex Robinson: It was last year that Lacklan helped to eliminate Stevie Swing from the Over the Top Rope Battle Royale. Now, he's back and is walloping her with that evil Knocker!

Steve Hebert: I don't know what to say.

Lex Robinson: That has to be a first.

Sure enough, eventually enough officials and referees storm the ring to make some distance between Lacklan and Stevie Swing. Kerry Windsor staggers up the ramp with his title in one hand and clutching his head with the other, while Lacklan slowly heads the same way, glaring all the while at Stevie's battered form, and seeming very proud of the carnage he has wrought.

Lex Robinson: This is insane.

Steve Hebert: You can say that again.

Sin Wrestling staff and the members of the Department of H.A.R.M. help Stevie Swing out of the ring, with CAPS LOCK carrying her in his arms. Generic Heel, meanwhile, helps Horatio to his feet, dusts off his suit and carries him back, as well.

WINNER: Kerry Windsor

The group that includes Eric Andrews, Christian Kincaid and Valerie Lamb stand in the back. Earlier in the night, they delighted fans in the first match of the card. Congratulating each other on their showing, despite their loss, they slap each other's hand and walk into their dressing room.

Christian Kincaid: Good match, guys. Let's keep it up.

Christian slaps hands with his friend, Eric Andrews. Valerie Lamb follows behind Eric, enters their locker-room and has Christian Kincaid enter behind them. Closing the door, things go silent... when suddenly there's a loud bang!

BOOM

A screech of horror is overheard from Valerie Lamb and smoke begins pluming out from beneath the door. Coughing is heard inside and the camera pulls back, showing a hole in the wall.

The camera happens to pan back even further, showing Redmaine standing a few feet outside of the door, looking quite content. He has struck again. There's a smile on his face as he brushes at his facial hair and walks away, stepping through the swarm of medics that come rushing into the area.

The War continues.

Corey Ashton is shown sitting in the backstage area, his elbows on his knees, thinking to himself and preparing for his upcoming match. Right away, a myriad of boos reverberate around the arena, in the hometown of Chris Carson. He pays no mind. With a straight face, he stands up, revealing a wooden baseball bat in his hands.

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't even pay attention to the rattling of his locker-room, thanks to the previous Redmaine-responsible explosion. Holding the bat in his hands, he walks off, headed towards the entrance area.

The image returns to Steve Hebert and Lex Robinson, who is getting some information on his headset.

Lex Robinson: Folks, right now, I am being told our cameras have caught up with Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy.

Steve Hebert: At this point, I wouldn't be surprised to see them brawling on the home plate of Fenway Park. Chris will probably do a fancy, little Morgana-lite, faggy little moonsault off the Green Monster or something. He'll probably refer to himself as the Pink Monster. Or he'll call his cock that. Hell, I don't know.

Lex Robinson: Actually... no, they're still on the bus.

Steve Hebert: They're messing with public transit? Dear lord, the people are going to be pissed. Bostonians are worse than extremist terrorists, too. They'll blow themselves up if they can't get from A-to-B.

Lex Robinson: Let's get to the camera feed, guys! Let's roll!

The black Ford truck drives behind the bus, which has absolute anarchy happening inside of it! Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy are at the back of the bus. Mike Phantasy is thrown over a bus seat and Chris Extreme wallops away on him with a leather belt, which he takes from an older gentleman's jeans.

Lashing him over and over again, Chris begins strangling Mike with the strap, wanting to choke the life out of him. Bloody drool and spit hangs out of Mike's mouth, dripping onto the floor of the bus, with horrified on-lookers watching closely.

The driver of the bus curses out loud, wanting everyone to sit down, but obviously no one listens. As a result, he presses his foot even harder on the acceleration.

Bus Driver: You goddamn motherfucking pricks. Sit down, all of you. And stop that fighting!

Unfortunately, Chris Extreme responds to these heeds by smashing Mike's head through the back window of the bus!

Bus Driver: I said "Sit down and shut up!"

Angry, the bus driver swerves to the right, almost smashing into the back of a car, in an all-out rage! This results in a bloody Mike Phantasy stumbling back into the center of the bus, allowing Chris Extreme to drop down to one knee, backhand slap him in the testicles, hunch him over and then climb onto an empty seat. Without a second thought, Chris uses his body to vault flip backwards, landing on Mike, smashing them both to the ground!

The cameraman does his best to try and keep his focus on the action, watching as Chris Extreme covers Mike, having the referee use an empty seat to make the pinfall...!

...1...

...

...2...

...!

However, the bus driver swerves again, goes up on a crosswalk and ends up tipping on its side, thanks to the disturbance on the bus! Everyone goes tumbling to the right, falling on their side, including Chris, Mike and the referee, the cover officially blown!

Cameraman: Holy shit! We got to help them!

Crew Member: Oh my God. Stop the truck. Stop the truck!

The Ford truck slams on its breaks. The cameracrew come storming out of their truck, with the cameraman laying his camera on the bonnet. They go the bus, overhearing the moans and groans of people that are trapped inside.

Crew Member: Get help! We need help!

A crowd gathers around the toppled over bus, trying to extend some help. Within seconds, though, there's a smashing sound, sending glass everywhere!

Mike Phantasy goes flying through one of the bus windows, with Chris Extreme following after him, stomping the life out of Mike, who scurries along the sidewalk, pushing people out of the way. The referee goes after the duo, who go out of sight of the camera, while the crew members can just stand there, absolutely stunned!

Shortly, the scene returns to the arena, showing Lex and Steve sitting at ringside, with a shocked expression on their face.

Lex Robinson: ...Wow!

Steve Hebert: You can say that again. I can't believe Michael Jackson is dead. Why am I always the first person to find things out?

Lex Robinson: ...What?

Steve Hebert: Oh, and Mike Phantasy and Chris Extreme are killing each other, too. I didn't forget about that.

The TO BE CONTINUED...!

Ready or Not.
Here I Come.
You Can’t Hide.
Gonna find you and take it slowly.

The chill, rhythmic sounds of “Ready or Not” by The Fugees kicks up over the sound system. Corey Ashton walks through the curtains in distinctly different attire than usual. A pair of simple black wrestling tights and matching boots makes up the new garb. His expression is blank with blue eyes focused sternly in front.

In his right hand is a dull, unusual wooden baseball bat. Ashton walks down the ramp very slowly and confidently. He bypasses the booing crowd without a sound. Even when garbage is hurled in his direction, Corey simply lets it hit him without incident. He walks up the steel steps and carefully gets in the ring. He sets the bat down in the corner, prepping it for future use. He turns his attention to the curtains, ready to confront this challenge head-on.

Steve Hebert: Here we go. The ropes have been taken down and have been replaced with barbed-wire strands. This is going to be a mess. A disgusting bloody mess. For Chris Carson, to be more exact.

Lex Robinson: No way. The Creep is in his hometown. He's not going to go down without a fight. He has assured everyone that he will toss Corey Ashton in the bank of the ambulance, even if he has to use the ropes to peel every inch of skin off him.

Steve Hebert: Not going to happen, Lex. Carson will be too busy trying to save his pride to do anything worthwhile. Let's not forget the further stipulations of the match. If The Creep loses, his World Title record gets stricken from the books.

Lex Robinson: Yup. And if Corey Ashton loses, he has to shave every inch of hair of his body.

Steve Hebert: And what a body it is.

Lex Robinson: He'd even have to shave off his pubes.

Steve Hebert: And what a set of pubes he has.

Lex Robinson: Uh... we still need The Creep out here. And the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Corey has a baseball bat. That's all he really needs.

The sound of a car engine starting revs onto the speakers and roars from acceleration, transitioning into the opening of Rev Theory's "Kill the Headlights". The reverb from the guitar coincides with a glow from the SinTron that slowly intensifies and spells out "CREEP" in headlights.

The crowd is on its feet, welcoming their hometown hero. The sound of sirens is heard as the ambulance comes roaring out onto the stage, being driven by Chris Carson, who stares intently at Corey Ashton. Flickering the siren some more, Carson gets a loud reaction from the fans and he presses his foot to the gas pedal, headed straight for the ringside area.

Lex Robinson: The Creep has arrived! Listen to the cheers from these fans! Holy crap!

Steve Hebert: Ugh. If only a nuclear bomb would go off right about now, taking out only The Creep and his stupid, ugly, mongoloid fans. I'm serious. They look exactly like mongoloids. Just freakin' look at them.

Lex Robinson: You're in no shape to criticize anyone's physical appearance. Pun intended.

Just kill the headlights
I want you to see all that's inside
You'll get where you want
Take your hands off the wheel

Kill the headlights
You've got all you need on the inside
Just kill the headlights
Turn the radio up

Carson drives the ambulance towards the ring, finally stopping the brakes at ringside. He remains in the ambulance for several seconds, letting the sirens roar, making Corey Ashton walk over and smash his bat off the front of the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Get out of that stupid ambulance, retard. Corey Ashton has no other choice but to dent the bonnet. This is ridiculous.

Lex Robinson: Oh, be quiet.

Steve Hebert: Get out of the ambulance, asshole!

When the time is right, Chris Carson finally stirs, opens the door of the ambulance and rolls into the ring. However, he seems to be holding a bag of red, used blood in his hand.

Steve Hebert: Is that...?

Lex Robinson: Oh, it is!

Right away, The Creep rolls into the ring, ducking beneath the razor-sharp barbed-wire and begins to climb to his feet. As soon as that happens, Corey Ashton charges at him, wielding his baseball bat and aiming it at Carson's skull.

Lex Robinson: Carson ducks out of the way of that baseball bat! Thank God!

One second later, he spins around and swings the bag of blood at Corey Ashton's face, smashing it open, sending blood splashing all over Corey!

Steve Hebert: Oh no. Corey Ashton officially has the AIDS!

Lex Robinson: Disgusting! Who knows where that blood came from!

Steve Hebert: The Creep will need that blood when Corey Ashton is finished with him. Too bad he just wasted it all.

Lex Robinson: Actually, Carson wastes no time in attacking Corey, punching him over and over again, almost backing him against the barbed-wire ropes. Giving a kick to Corey's gut, he hopes to exact some revenge on that scumbag by whipping him into the ropes!

Steve Hebert: He sends Corey, but he stops just short of the barbed-wire strands! Thank fucking God. Covered in that filthy, vile blood, which Carson probably drained from his ex-wife's uterus, Corey turns around, still tightly clutching that baseball bat. He sees that old bag, The Creep, run at him... wham! He nails the ol' bastard in the gut with the baseball bat! Thank heavens! Put that old shit down for the count, I say.

Lex Robinson: Wow! He takes the bat and begins choking The Creep with it, too! Dragging him upward, Corey uses the wooden bat to Russian legsweep his enemy, soon rolling atop him and battering him with punches!

Steve Hebert: Ah, yes, just what I love. I love it when old men get their asshole kicked.

Standing to his feet, Corey begins to give some insulting stomps to The Creep, keeping him floored, not allowing him to stand. To make things even more severe, Corey begins to use the edge of the bat to jab into Carson's ribs, making him cry out in pain.

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson can't escape from that baseball bat, which Corey is using to haunt him. Giving him repeated strikes, Corey makes sure that The Creep remains on the ground, wanting to stop him from getting any sort of advantage.

Steve Hebert: It's a smart goddamn move. Over and over, he kicks and stomps The Creep's stupid meathead. Carson gets to a kneeling position, but it's useless. Corey swings the bat across the back of The Creep, knocking the wind straight out of him!

Lex Robinson: That could have done serious lung damage, too! That might have been a collapsed lung right there. You don't know!

Steve Hebert: Just what The Creep needs -- to have his smoke and tar infested lungs give out on him. This is working out perfectly.

On his knees, The Creep can't escape from Corey's wrath. Speaking of which, Corey Ashton holds the band overhead, about to swing it down across Carson's skull, which would no doubt split his skull into pieces!

Lex Robinson: Oh no... oh no...

Steve Hebert: Oh--... no!

Lex Robinson: The Creep lowblows Corey Ashton! Yes! Thank God!

Steve Hebert: Fuck God. He's about as real as Santa Claus and Jewish pride.

Lex Robinson: Like a maniac scorned, The Creep jumps to his feet, snatches the baseball bat out of Corey's hands... and then cracks it over his right knee!

Steve Hebert: Hey! He can't do that, can he?!

Lex Robinson: He can and he did!

Tossing the bat towards Steve Hebert, Chris Carson goes right on the attack!

Steve Hebert: Jesus Christ, that nearly hit me!

Lex Robinson: You'll be fine.

Steve Hebert: I smell a lawsuit.

The Creep kicks Corey in the gut and hammers him with some fists to the face. These shots back Corey near the corner, almost tangling him in the barbed-wire ropes, but he scurries out, trying to fight Carson off.

Steve Hebert: Corey's defending himself good. Let's hope he keeps it up. As long as he stays away from that barbed-wire...

Lex Robinson: With that being said, Chris Carson grabs him and Irish-whips him towards the ropes!

Steve Hebert: Aw, Jesus...

Lex Robinson: Corey halts himself one second before running into that barbed-wire!

Steve Hebert: Phew!

Lex Robinson: But here comes Chris Carson...

Steve Hebert: Uh oh!

Corey looks over his shoulder, realizing Carson is charging towards him. With some quick thinking, he ducks out of the way, circles behind The Creep and backdrop drivers him!

Lex Robinson: Backdrop driver!

Steve Hebert: Yes! He dumped Chris Carson on his stupid skull!

Lex Robinson: Wait--...

Chris Carson immediately stands back up, showing no signs of damage from the impact. Watching Corey also stand, he runs at his enemy and former partner, nailing him with a running-clothesline that sends Ashton falling into the barbed-wire ropes!

Steve Hebert: Oh God no!

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton is the first one to take a fall into the barbed-wire! Ouchies! Look at those strands rip into his skin!

Steve Hebert: This is awful. Listen to his cries of pain and terror. The crowd is eating this up. What sick, sadistic animals. I hope they all drop dead! Maybe get some of Chris Carson's AIDS blood on them!

Struggling to free himself from the barbed-wire, Corey Ashton is immediately attacked with an influx of punches from a rabid Chris Carson, who is getting cheered by the fans. He repeatedly strikes Corey in the skull, wanting to beat the life out of him, even taking a second to claw at his face.

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson is going nuts on Corey Ashton! After nailing some elbows to the top of Corey's skull, The Creep literally rips Corey's skin off by peeling him away from the ropes. Trapping him in the center of the ring, Chris Carson unloads with some more stiff punches and nails some headbutts, too! He's not letting Corey Ashton have a moment's rest!

Steve Hebert: Poor Corey. That raging retard is currently all over him! What's a fella to do, especially after falling into barbed-wire.

Lex Robinson: Thankfully for Corey's sake, he is able to block some forearms from The Creep, allowing him to get some smacks of his own in. However, it isn't enough. The Creep's flurry is enough to keep Corey Ashton reeling, trying to keep himself afloat.

Steve Hebert: Like a disgusting child predator, Chris Carson hovers over Corey Ashton, acting if he's some young, innocent flesh. Licking his lips, like a horny pervert, he grabs onto Corey's head... only to have Corey grab onto his pants and pull him into the barbed-wire, chest-first! Hell yes!

Lex Robinson: Oh my...! Chris Carson can't protect himself from that, whatsoever. His skin is ripped open by those strands, allowing Corey to get to his feet and begin walloping away at Chris, as he's tangled in the web of wire!

Steve Hebert: An image that I love to see: Chris Carson on his knees, helpless, his chest bleeding and looking like a bitter, useless old fag. The only way this could be better is if his teeth fell out of his head.

Standing creepily behind Chris Carson, Corey knees The Creep in the back, making sure to keep his nemesis grinding against the strands of barbed-wire! On top of all of that, he commences kicking Chris in the back of the head, pushing his head against the ropes, much to the hatred of the fans!

Lex Robinson: Blood has begun pouring out of Chris Carson's face, hopeless against Corey's attack. Thanks to his poor positioning, Chris Carson can't remove himself from his predicament, having Corey grab him by the ears and rub his face off the wire! Goddamn!

Steve Hebert: He's even stuffing the barbed-wire into Chris Carson's mouth... and now begins punching his mouth, too! Haha, yes! Rip his tongue out! Cocksuckings from Chris Carson are going to have a whole lot less tongue!

Lex Robinson: There's blood spilling out of his mouth, drooling down his chin! Aong with that, his chest has tiny prickles in it, with bloody splotches. Ripping him to his feet, Corey Ashton begins hammering with some fists and pulls him near. He hits a belly-to-belly suplex, sending Chris Carson flying overhead! Such a simple and effective move for such a brutal match.

Chris Carson rolls to his side, coughing up some more blood. Not giving him a chance to recover, Corey Ashton moves in, stands above Chris Carson, clenches his fist and begins to wail away on his mouth region, hoping to spill even more blood!

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton has lost his mind! He's just ripping and wailing away at Chris Carson.

Steve Hebert: If this means we'll never have to hear that dumbshit speak another word, then thank heavens.

Lex Robinson: Lifting Chris up, Corey forearms him in the face, grabs Carson's hair and then heaves him straight towards the ropes! Ugh, goddamn, Carson can't hold back from falling into the barbed-wire. Horrific!

The enemy, Corey Ashton, stands in the center of the ring, soaking up the boos. He boldly laughs at the fans, points at Chris Carson and then begins to unload with another brutal attack, dragging Carson across the barbed-wire rope, making his chest rake across it.

Lex Robinson: Dear God, Carson has his chance scraped across the wire, which rips into his chest!

Steve Hebert: There goes a nipple or two.

Lex Robinson: As Chris is dragged across the barbed-wire, he inadvertently strips off a strand of barbed-wire, which clings to his chest, still latched into his skin. Yuck! Disgusting!

Steve Hebert: Corey Ashton pulls it off... and begins lashing The Creep with it! Yes! Rip that skin open! Piss on him, if you have to!

Lex Robinson: Corey is even wrapping that barbed-wire around Carson's throat! Oh my God! This is sick! With blood drooling down his chin, The Creep struggles to breathe, wishing to free himself; but it's useless. The more he thrashes, the tighter Corey pulls, as he kicks Chris in the back of his leg, putting him down to one knee. From this position, Corey is able to jab his own knee into the back of Chris Carson, trying to choke him into a bloody mess.

Steve Hebert: He's going to do it, too!

With the fans cheering The Creep on, he stands to his feet, blood flowing down his neck, getting energized by the fans.

Steve Hebert: Uh oh.

Lex Robinson: As the blood flows, Chris Carson is energized by the roaring of the fans! And... wait... Corey Ashton is biting Chris Carson! What the bloody hell?!

Steve Hebert: He's one hungry motherfucker!

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton is using his teeth to rip off a chunk of Chris Carson's flesh! Removing the barbed-wire from his neck, Corey walks around and spits the chunk of flesh onto the canvas! He's a wild animal... a cannibal. This can't be right! Holy Goddamn!

Steve Hebert: Hahaha. Yes! He spit him out, too. He just couldn't get past the taste of stale cigarettes, cheap cologne and dirt.

The camera zooms in on the missing piece of flesh on the back of Carson's neck. Corey is quick to attack, wrapping the barbed-wire around his fist, which he drops around the flesh wound!

Lex Robinson: Oh God... that was disgusting! A barbed-wire wrapped fist to the back of Carson's bloody neck! I think I'm going to be sick.

Steve Hebert: Don't vomit on me, shitdick. Turn that way.

Lex Robinson: Corey's fist is covered in Chris Carson's blood. Meanwhile, he is covered in pig's blood... or someone's blood... I don't even know.

Steve Hebert: Hopefully it's not the blood of a heroin addict. But then again, Corey would probably love that.

Lex Robinson: Corey grinds his fist into Carson's skull. Ugh, this is sickening. Hoisting The Creep up, he pounds his fist against his face several more times. Man, oh man, Carson's bleeding. Making sure Carson doesn't escape, Corey side-headlocks him and goes to nail him with some more blows, ripping the skin off his forehead, digging his knuckles deep!

Steve Hebert: Good! And--... oh no...

Lex Robinson: Wait, Carson holds Corey Ashton up in a back-suplex position... and then atomic drops him across the barbed-wire ropes!

Steve Hebert: Auuughhhh! Cock first onto the barbed-wire! That's... that's terrible!

Lex Robinson: It certainly is for Corey Ashton, who screams out in pain! The audience, however, are laughing at his expense, cheering on The Creep!

Despite the barbed-wire wrapped around his fist, Corey Ashton can't save himself from the pain of landing crotch-first on barbed-wire. He can't even save himself from the looming Chris Carson, who charges at him and hits a vicious lariat!

Lex Robinson: What a clothesline by Chris Carson! Corey Ashton rips off the barbed-wire and flips all the way to the floor, landing on his chest! Holy goddamn! The Creep is charging up.

Steve Hebert: He's Creeping up! He's getting Creepy! And now I want to vomit.

Inside of the ring, soaking up the applause and his own blood, Chris Carson stands in wait, waiting as Corey Ashton slowly rises, holding his crotch with his hands. When the time is right, he runs towards the ropes... and suicide dives through them, leaping through the middle and top rope!

Lex Robinson: Suicide dive by Chris Carson! Holy moly! We only see one of those... what? Once a year, if that? He means business. He's like a savage, pounding away on Corey Ashton's skull, his own blood and knuckles spilling onto Corey's face! Lifting Ashton up, he smashes his face off the apron and then blasts him against the ring post! Hell yeah, The Creep is on the attack!

Steve Hebert: With any luck, he'll clutch his chest and drop dead of a heart attack.

Watching Corey Ashton stumble around, holding his face, Chris Carson rips off a portion of the bottom barbed-wire rope. Like Corey Ashton before him, he wraps it around his fist and chases after Corey, who had been hunched over, holding his head.

Lex Robinson: They both have their hands wrapped in barbed-wire! Bloody knuckles and all, Chris Carson pounds away on Corey's head, busting his forehead open! Blood mixes with blood, as Chris pounds away on his forehead, grabs him by the head and then slams his face off the ring post! Damn!

Steve Hebert: Ack! Now he's delivering some chops, slapping Corey across the chest with that barbed-wire wrapped hand! And another... and another... and another! Goddamnit, stop it!

Lex Robinson: And now Corey Ashton responds by tearing at Chris's chest with some chops! These guys are literally just chopping the skin off each other's chest! Shifting from chops to punches, these two men begin striking each other even harder, brawling up against the side of the ambulance. Corey blocks a punch from Chris Carson... grabs him by the hair and then bashes his face off the vehicle, leaving behind a red splotch of blood!

The Creep goes stumbling backward, letting Corey Ashton regain his composure... and fix his junk. Rolling The Creep back into the ring, Corey walks around the ambulance, opens a door and finds a barbed-wire board hidden in the back of it.

Steve Hebert: Look what we have here, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Oh boy. I think that's something Chris Carson was planning on using. Instead, Corey Ashton has found it. With an evil grin on his face, Corey removes it from the ambulance and slides it inside, setting it next to The Creep. Rolling beneath the bottom barbed-wire rope, Corey re-enters, scraping his back off the razor-wire.

Steve Hebert: It makes no difference to Corey. He can take it. Besides, he's going to have The Creep in an even worse place soon enough.

Lex Robinson: You may be right. Like a sadistic, twisted motherfucker, Corey Ashton picks up the barbed-wire board and sandwiches onto The Creep, slamming it onto his body! Good lord...

Steve Hebert: Yes! Make a barbed-wire Creep sandwich! Cut him up into pieces!

Lex Robinson: When Corey removes the barbed-wire board, pieces of flesh rip off The Creep! Again, yuck! He stands Carson up to his feet, turns him around and is preparing for something... he's... he's hooking both of Carson's arms. He's going to drive him onto that board with a Tiger Suplex! Oh God.

Just as Lex speaks, Corey Ashton sends Chris Carson flying with a Tiger Suplex onto the barbed-wire board, sending a tsunami of horror washing throughout the audience!

Lex Robinson: I told you!

Steve Hebert: Yes! That old fucker is dead! Corey makes the cover...

Lex Robinson: Uh, no, there's no covers. He has to stuff The Creep into the ambulance. What you're witnessing is Corey Ashton sitting on Carson's chest, pounding away at his face!

Steve Hebert: And now he's gnawing on him, ripping into Carson's flesh with his teeth! He's goddamn Dracula!

Corey Ashton rises to his feet, having Chris Carson's blood on his chin, getting rained on with jeers. Laughing as The Creep struggles to free himself from the barbed-wire board, Corey circles around him, eventually stopping at his feet. Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in his head.

Lex Robinson: Now what's he doing?

Steve Hebert: You'll see. Dear God, you'll see...

Lex Robinson: Oh no... Ashton Anklelock! Corey has that anklelock applied... while Carson lays on the barbed-wire board!

Steve Hebert: He can't quit, either! He could be in this position for the next 5 hours if Corey Ashton feels like it!

Lex Robinson: The Creep is hollering out in pain. The fans are cheering him on, wanting him to fight back. You can do it, Creep!

Steve Hebert: Jesus. You sound like an after-school special.

Using the chanting of the fans to gain strength and energy, Chris Carson is able to roll off the barbed-wire board, leaving behind traces of skin behind. Corey looks nonplussed, having thought Chris Carson wouldn't be able to fight through the pain. Nevertheless, he locks the hold on even tighter!

Lex Robinson: Imagine the pain and the suffering! So far, Chris Carson has rolled himself out of the barbed-wire; but can he free himself from that hold?!

Steve Hebert: Never! I hope we're here for the next 10 days. Actually, just do what the referee did to Travis Miller -- ring the bell. Call the match! It's over.

Lex Robinson: No way. They must place each other in the ambulance. That's the only way this match ends.

Steve Hebert: In that case, The Creep will probably be missing a foot by the time this is over.

Lex Robinson: It may be. He won't surrender!

Rolling back and forth, the pain is evident on his face. Reaching around, he finds the barbed-wire board, takes it in his hand, rolls onto his back... and then uses it to club Corey Ashton in the head with it!

Lex Robinson: Yes!

Steve Hebert: No! Goddamnit, no!

Lex Robinson: That gets the hold released! It also sends Corey Ashton sprawling to the canvas, cut wide open! Both men are down, but The Creep is struggling to stand.

Steve Hebert: There's no way he can get to his feet... is there? After all that bloodloss and that injured foot... it just can't happen is all I'm sayin'!

They remain on the mat for several seconds, leaving stains of blood behind them. At approximately the same time, they get to their feet, with Chris Carson barely standing on one leg.

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson is up! I can't believe it!

Steve Hebert: Ugh. Corey Ashton is up, as well. He turns around and runs at The Creep. He's going to clobber him into the 20th row!

Lex Robinson: Drop-toe-hold by Chris Carson, who steps aside! Corey Ashton goes directly into the barbed-wire ropes, clawing his face and body up! With the way blood is churning out of him after that, covering his own hair in crimson, it looks like he is bald. At this rate, he had better get used to that!

Steve Hebert: Hell no. Not going to happen. Chris Carson's World Title reign will be wiped off the records. It has to happen. It just has to.

Lex Robinson: The award winning reign, too. And it can't happen. It just can't.

Steve Hebert: Give it time. Corey will be back to kicking that old faggot's ass in due time.

Chris Carson's back is turned. He's trying to regain his strength, the bloodloss taking its toll on him. Corey Ashton, who is suffering bloodloss of his own, namely from his nose and forehead, realizes The Creep's condition and decides to act on it, ripping himself away from the ropes.

Steve Hebert: See? Corey Ashton angrily rips himself away from the ropes. Hey, who needs skin, anyhow?

Lex Robinson: Again, he's charging at The Creep...!

Steve Hebert: Here goes...

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson is able to see Corey run at him. With some quick thinking, he cripples to the side, almost making his enemy run straight into the ropes! At the last second, Corey stops himself... only to have Chris walk behind him, grab him... and then hit The C.C. Crash onto the barbed-wire ropes! Oh my God!

Steve Hebert: Poor Corey Ashton! The ropes rip from the ring and he goes tumbling to the floor! He's in a rack of pain!

Lex Robinson: So is Chris Carson, who rolls to the outside, barely able to stand on his two feet. Fighting off the pain and the lack of energy, he hobbles towards Corey, grabs a strand of barbed-wire and wraps it around Corey's head, slicing it into his forehead!

Steve Hebert: He's forcing a crown of barbed-wire on Corey's head! Ughhhh...

Lex Robinson: And... and... he's headbutting Corey Ashton!

Steve Hebert: Holy shit, what the fuck?

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton stumbles back, in a bloody, delirious haze... only to retort with a headbutt of his own to Chris Carson, using the crown of barbed-wire for his own use! This is sick! The Creep fires back with a headbutt! And Corey Ashton with a headbutt... back-and-forth headbutts for everyone!

Steve Hebert: Blood streams down the head of both men. It's like it is raining menses! Unfortunately, The Creep gets the best of Corey, knocking him against the ambulance, leaving behind another bloody streak! They're brawling towards us, now. Watch out, Lex! Blam!

Chris Carson blasts Corey Ashton's face across the announcer's desk, leaving behind a large, circular blot of blood!

Steve Hebert: Chris Carson slams Corey's face into our desk. Look at that blood, Lex. Look at it.

Lex Robinson: I can see it, Steve.

Steve Hebert: Good. Now eat it.

Lex Robinson: What the--...? No!

Seconds after having his own face smashed against the announcer's table, Corey responds by knocking the crowd of barbed-wire off his own head, grabbing Carson's head and then smashing it off the desk!

Lex Robinson: And now there's another blotch of blood and it's laying just in front of me!

Steve Hebert: Lick it, Lex. Pretend it's ketchup.

Lex Robinson: Ew. For the last time -- no!

Steve Hebert: C'mon...

After both men smash each other's face into the table, they stumble away from each other and try to regroup themselves by wiping blood out of their eyes. Soon, though, they turn around and face each other, with Chris Carson crippling towards Corey.

Lex Robinson: In order to protect himself, Corey Ashton reaches up and rips off another strand of barbed-wire. He whips it at Chris Carson, warding him off, like a liontamer and a lion. When the time is right, Corey steps towards The Creep, knees him in the gut and stuffs the barbed-wire into The Creep's mouth.

Steve Hebert: It's just like before! He even begins punching him in the mouth and jaw, too! Corey's dragging Carson towards the ambulance. This is going to be it... I hope.

Tying the barbed-wire around The Creep, Corey Ashton drags him towards the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Haha, he's dragging The Creep along, as if he were some sort of wounded puppy. To be frank, he's an old dog that needs to be put down. He needs a nice bullet in the head.

Lex Robinson: When Corey reaches his desired location, which is next to the ambulance, he opts not to try and throw Chris in the back. Instead, he holds open the driver's side door, grabs Chris Carson's right foot -- the same one he worked over earlier, with the Ashton Anklelock -- and he places it in the doorway. He's not... oh no...

Without a second thought, Corey Ashton viciously slams the door on Chris Carson's foot!

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson hollers out a thunderous roar! He's in sheer pain! He probably can't even walk! This is not good for him. Not good at all.

Steve Hebert: I told you he was going to put the old, decaying dog down. Even if he chops off its foot first.

In a rack of pain, Chris Carson cripples around on one foot, with Corey Ashton quickly following him. Opening the ambulance door, he sneers, grabs Carson from behind and aims him towards the ambulance.

Lex Robinson: Corey's looking to end this thing. Finally. The Creep is unable to walk. It's clear as day.

Steve Hebert: Good. Heave him in that ambulance. Pretend you're tossing him into a casket, Corey.

Before going forward with The Creep, Corey stops in his tracks, smirks, kicks Carson's right foot out from beneath him and makes him fall to the ground.

Lex Robinson: What the...?

Steve Hebert: Haha, he's closing the door! He's going to continue punishing Chris Carson. To hell with winning right now.

Lex Robinson: This is twisted, Steve. How can you laugh at this?

Steve Hebert: Who needs morals these days, Lex? That's right. No one. Especially not I.

Lex Robinson: Grabbing some barbed-wire, Corey begins to wrap it around Chris Carson's right ankle! This is awful. The Creep is on the floor, behind the ambulance, crying out in pain.

Steve Hebert: I hope his son is watching. That little fucker has an extra chromosome, anyhow. His mother should have drowned him.

Lex Robinson: My God. How could you say this? What if he's watching? Don't you think it's bad enough he sees his father bleeding like this? Crying out like this?

Steve Hebert: I hope so. That'd be hilarious.

Corey continues to slice into his nemesis's foot. At one point, he even begins biting his leg, trying even more blood.

Steve Hebert: Jesus, this is like something out of a Saw movie.

Lex Robinson: It's plain horrific. How far will Corey Ashton go?! He's not even focusing on defeating The Creep! He just wants to cause damage!

Steve Hebert: There's nothing wrong with that!

Lex Robinson: For you, maybe. When he's through with possibly crippling The Creep, Corey Ashton stands back, grinning at the devastation and hurt he has caused. The fans let him know how much they hate him. These jeers grow louder the moment he turns around and opens the door to the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Stop hassling him, cocksuckers.

Corey pauses for a second, smirks; and then closes the ambulance door for the second time. Like a rabid animal, he swings around and returns to viciously attacking Chris Carson!

Lex Robinson: He does it again! Grabbing Chris Carson, he pushes him up onto the side of the apron, setting him up next to the barbed-wire. Climbing up alongside him, Corey continues to show no mercy. He hoists The Creep up onto his shoulders with a standing fireman's carry...

Steve Hebert: Death Valley Driver onto the barbed-wire ropes, ripping them off the posts, as well! Yes! The Creep is dead! Ding, dong, The Creep is dead!

Lex Robinson: He lays in a bloodied, beaten heap, in pain from his feet to his head.

Steve Hebert: His asshole, too.

Lex Robinson: And Corey Ashton returns to the ambulance, opening up its hind doors/ Again, he reaches inside... and he pulls out a stretcher!

Steve Hebert: That's exactly what The Creep needs to get his carcass out of here.

Lex Robinson: Setting the stretcher up, Corey moves Chris onto it, takes the barbed-wire ropes and begins to tie him onto the stretcher, making him unable to move!

Steve Hebert: Haha! All he has to do is wheel him into the back of that shitmobile.

Lex Robinson: He isn't doing that, though! Oddly enough, he's leaping onto the ring apron, measuring Chris Carson up.

Steve Hebert: Hmmm... okay, maybe he should be thinking about dispensing The Creep. Of course, maybe a little more damage would be okay, I guess...

Lex Robinson: I hope this backfires. I truly hope it does.

Steve Hebert: Corey Ashton leaps off the apron...

Lex Robinson: Frog Splash onto a barbed-wire wrapped Chris Carson, toppling both him and the stretcher over!

Steve Hebert: See? It worked out well, Lex!

Lex Robinson: I can't believe it.

Steve Hebert: Well, you better.

Lex Robinson: The Creep is coughing up blood.

Steve Hebert: Either he's coughing it up or it's from having his tongue lacerated. It really could go either way, much like your sexuality.

Finally believing he has delivered enough punishment to Chris Carson, a blood-soaked Corey Ashton stands up, rips the barbed-wire off Carson and drags him off the stretcher, pulling him towards the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Here we go. Time to take out the trash!

Lex Robinson: This is awful. I can't believe what has happened. I feel awful. All that Chris Carson worked for... down the drain...

Steve Hebert: The door to the ambulance is lifted. Corey is beginning to dump him inside! This is so great. I like to imagine this is a hearse.

Corey grabs Carson by the scruff of his bloody neck and goes to throw him into the back of the ambulance. However, at the last second, The Creep gets his foot up, saving himself!

Lex Robinson: The Creep halts Corey Ashton!

Steve Hebert: What?! He was supposed to be dead!

Lex Robinson: He elbows Corey in the face, grabs the door... and slams it across the back of Corey Ashton's head! He does it again! And again! And again! And again! And again! My God, he does it once more!

Steve Hebert: Oh no! Corey Ashton's face looks like Swiss Cheese. What a turn of events. What the fuck almighty?!

Lex Robinson: Absolutely exhausted, Chris Carson crumples to the ground, unable to stand under his own weight! He can't get Corey in the back of that ambulance.

Steve Hebert: Of course not. He's on his back!

Corey Ashton kneels at the doorway of the ambulance, his face hanging partially off, like modeling clay! Chris Carson, on the other hand, is crawling around the ambulance, trying to regain his bearings, which he finally gets by getting to his feet at the front of the vehicle.

Lex Robinson: Slowly, Carson rises, dripping blood on the bonnet of the ambulance, quite similar to that of a wounded animal.

Steve Hebert: A wounded pussy, that is. You heard me. Remember all of the ducking out he did? That pussy!

Lex Robinson: You're referring to Corey Ashton taking Stevie Swing's vagina -- her, her plastic vagina and taunting The Creep with it.

Steve Hebert: Of course. What else would I be talking about?

Lex Robinson: Anyhow, Chris Carson is on a standing base, but just barely. He hobbles over to the passenger's door of the vehicle and opens it up. He reaches inside, searching for something...

Steve Hebert: He's trying to high-tail it out of here, that coward!

Lex Robinson: Hell no. He's got something in his hand. He removed it from the glove compartment. What is it?

Holding the concealed item close to him, The Creep cripples around the ambulance and rolls back inside of the ring, beneath the barbed-wire. It takes some time, but he finally stands to his feet, in the center of the ring, soaking up the cheers from the fans that let out a loud "CREEP! CREEP! CREEP!" chant!

Lex Robinson: Cheers are pouring in for The Creep!

Steve Hebert: Screw that. I'm more worried about what he has in his hand!

In the meantime, the camera cuts to Corey Ashton, who is on his knees on the floor, at the back of the ambulance, using the open door, trying to get to his feet. Cupping his hands over his face, he pulls them away, looking at the blood that has been dripping out of him.

Steve Hebert: Ugh. Poor Corey. The Creep tried to kill him. You just know he's pissed.

Lex Robinson: Corey rolls back into the ring, hoping to do damage to Carson. He jumps up and runs at Carson, who is pretty much on one foot! Carson ducks beneath a running punch, swings around and grabs Corey from behind with a chokehold! On top of that, he-- he holds a scalpel to Corey's forehead, slicing away at him! Holy mother of God!

Steve Hebert: Oh no, not Corey's pretty, pretty face! This is awful! He's cutting him up, like some kind of pork! The Creep is stabbing poor Corey with that freakin' blade! This is murder! Or almost like murder! How can this be legal?!

Lex Robinson: In horror, Corey elbows Carson in the ribs and tries to crawl away; but Carson follows after him, literally falling atop Corey! He nails Corey with some repeated blows with that scalpel, jabbing away at Corey's head and neck! Oh dear lord!

Steve Hebert: The more Corey squirms, the more he bleeds! This is awful.

Rolling free of Carson's clutches, Corey goes to the floor, trying to stop the blood flowing out of his head, neck and face. Unfortunately, some of the blood squirts onto Steve Hebert.

Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus, now I have AIDS!

Lex Robinson: This is sickening! Corey Ashton is bleeding all over the floor... and even onto us! My God, get a towel or something. Ugh.

Steve Hebert: While I'm out here, getting covered in lord knows what, Chris Carson is in there, licking the blade of that scalpal. What a sick fucker! Somebody call a doctor!

Lex Robinson: Settle down, Steve. Sheesh.

Even with an injured right ankle, Chris Carson rolls out of the ring, ducking beneath the bottom strand of barbed-wire, going after Corey Ashton, with the scalpel in hand.

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton, a bloody mess, is trying to get away from The Creep--...

Steve Hebert: Probably because the old fart has seemingly lost his mind-- and I'm still covered with awful blood. Son of a bitch. Get this filth off me.

Lex Robinson: Carson may be finding it difficult to walk, but he's still going after Corey Ashton, who rounds the corner of the ring post, headed towards the ambulance.

Steve Hebert: The Creep is obviously drawing similarities to Michael Myers or some shit.

Lex Robinson: Every single time Carson steps on that right foot, he grimaces in pain. Nevertheless, he keeps after Ashton, who sees Chris stalk him like a murderer. Rolling inside the ring, scraping past the bottom strand of barbed-wire, Corey gets to his feet, hoping to cut The Creep off... and he does. When Carson rolls in after him, Corey immediately goes to work, stomping at his head, wanting to keep him grounded!

Steve Hebert: Oh, thank fuck. He may be bleeding profusely, but he can still dish out punishment on The Creep, whose name sounds like a child predator.

Lex Robinson: Moving around to Carson's ankles, Corey grabs him by the legs... and... he's not going after Carson's right ankle again, is he?

Steve Hebert: Nope! He has something different in mind.

With both of Carson's legs tucked beneath his armpits, Corey Ashton drops back, slingshotting The Creep. The only problem is that Carson is pushed up, going throat-first across the barbed-wire rope!

Steve Hebert: Yes! Choke that motherfucker!

Lex Robinson: The Creep is guillotined across the barbed-wire rope! Euughh... but he's still fighting back!

Steve Hebert: Oh, for God's sake, Creep. Stay the hell down.

Lex Robinson: Aware of this, Corey Ashton grabs the scalpel that Chris dropped and begins to unload with slashes to the arm of The Creep! Oh my!

Steve Hebert: Cut his veins open! Slit his wrist like a gothic, 15-year old schoolgirl!

Lex Robinson: Chunks of flesh fall of The Creep's arm, like something you'd see in a horror movie. Blood is spurting out... this is sick! Leaving Carson in a bloody mess, he drops the scalpel, grabs his right ankle... and applies another Ashton Anklelock! Oh no!

Steve Hebert: Break his goddamn foot off, Corey!

Just like before, Carson fights back, rolling around in his own blood, trying to find his way out. His only solution is to place his two legs together and mule-kick Corey Ashton back.

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson kicks Corey Ashton into the barbed-wire ropes! Hollering out in pain, as he stumbles out from the barbed-wire, leaving behind traces of skin, Corey walks right into Carson, who bends him over his knee... and begins slapping his bottom!

Steve Hebert: How embarassing! Bloody slaps to the bum.

Lex Robinson: This is why you should always respect your elders, ladies and gentlemen.

Steve Hebert: Old people need to drop dead. This is horrible... Corey Ashton's being smacked like a little baby. Like a little bitch.

Lex Robinson: The second The Creep releases him, Corey slips to the floor, looking for another safe haven. However, The Creep, bloodied arm, face and all, swiftly goes stumbling after him.

Thanks to the damage to Carson's foot, Corey is able to out-race him. However, he looks over his shoulder, noticing that The Creep does not stop following.

Lex Robinson: With no other choice, he climbs up onto the front of the ambulance, trying to get away from Carson's grasps. However, The Creep reaches up and grabs him by the pants... which Corey responds by turning around and dousing him with a kick to the jaw! I guess he isn't so scared of The Creep, after all.

Steve Hebert: Damn right he isn't.

Lex Robinson: That kick doesn't stop him, though. The Creep continues after him, with both men soon on top of the ambulance!

Steve Hebert: This can't be good.

Lex Robinson: Depends on what happens. They rise to their feet, giving each other slaps across the jaw, with the crowd on their feet, losing their mind! After receiving a slap from Corey Ashton, The Creep fires back with a slap of his own. And now Corey punches him... and Carson punches back!

Steve Hebert: Damnit, be careful!

Lex Robinson: Corey hits another punch... but Chris Carson responds by forearming him! In a daze, Corey wisely halts things with a stomp to Chris Carson's ankle!

Steve Hebert: Great move! Focus on that foot! It's probably even losing bloodflow to it, as well! Suplex on top of the ambulance by Corey Ashton! Yes! He's back in control... I hope!

Blood spurts from Corey as he stands to his feet on top of the ambulance. Taking Chris Carson up with him, he headbutts him once, turns him around and then reverse-waistlocks him.

Steve Hebert: He's going to German suplex The Creep off the ambulance! If he hits this, it's over. Literally. As in The Creep's career and life will probably be over!

Lex Robinson: Frantic, Chris Carson waves his arms, with the fans holding their breath, scared of the situation. The only option available for him is to slam his elbows into Corey's bloody face, even bashing his own bleeding arm against Corey! In reply, though, Corey bites into the already bloodied spot on Carson's neck that he chomped on earlier, dropping Chris to his knees!

Steve Hebert: Which is right where he belongs.

Corey hovers over a kneeling Chris Carson, looking to do more damage. As he goes to lift him up, Chris responds with a simple, but effective, headbutt to the groin!

Steve Hebert: Oof! As usual, Chris presses his head against balls.

Lex Robinson: To quote you, "Hey, it works"! It works so well that he does it again... and again! Standing on one foot, he grabs Corey Ashton and looks to be going for the C.C. Bomb, perhaps!

Steve Hebert: No! Corey Ashton blocks that! He knees Carson in the ribs and goes for the ABC-DDT off the ambulance -- and to the floor!

Lex Robinson: The Creep blocks that, though! They exchange some more back-and-forth blows! Corey with another stomp to the inside of Carson's right foot! Oh no... ABC-DDT...!

Grabbing Chris Carson by the head, Corey jumps off the top of the ambulance, taking The Creep with him. They go flying to the ground, crashing into the ring, onto the barbed-wire ropes, which go ripping off the turnbuckles!

Lex Robinson: Oh my God! Chris Carson landed squarely on his head!

Steve Hebert: My God, yes! I just came! This is even greater than Canada winning Gold in men's hockey! All Corey has to do is drag Carson's useless corpse out of the ring and heave him into the back of that ambulance.

Lex Robinson: They're both tangled in barbed-wire, though... and in an absolute amount of pain. The two enemies are bleeding profusely, no doubt suffering anemia.

Steve Hebert: Someone should scrape up the canvas and donate everything to the Red Cross.

Both men go rolling off the ring apron and land on the floor, tearing their own skin in the process. The first to rise is obviously Corey Ashton, still gushing blood from his face. Rising to his feet, he lifts Chris Carson up with him, with The Creep still tangled in the barbed-wire ropes. He opens the door to the ambulance and begins to push Chris Carson inside.

Steve Hebert: It's over! Corey Ashton's got him this time. I told you so, Lex.

Lex Robinson: It's really close. Oh man, The Creep is going in it, too. Corey Ashton shuts one door...

Corey reaches for the second door, takes a look at the crowd and grins, listening to their jeers pour in. He goes to shut it.

Lex Robinson: He's closing the second door...

An inch before the door closes, The Creep reaches out and stops it from closing!

Lex Robinson: No! It's not over!

Steve Hebert: Whaaat?!

Lex Robinson: The Creep stops the door from closing! He pushes the doors open, smashing Corey Ashton in the face, knocking him back! Listen to these fans cheering! They're going insane!

From the back of the ambulance, Chris Carson leaps towards Corey Ashton, knocking him to the ground!

Lex Robinson: Chris Carson is going nuts, pounding away at Corey Ashton's face! Using his hands, he rips open the cut on Corey's face, jamming away at it, busting him open even wider!

Steve Hebert: He's trying to make a vagina!

Pulling Corey to his feet, Carson elbows him in the skull and then bashes his face off the steel railing. Grabbing Corey by the head, he smashes his face off the ambulance door, shaking off the pain in his ankle.

Lex Robinson: Amazingly, Chris Carson is back on the attack! Who saw this coming?!

Steve Hebert: He was supposed to be dead or something! What the hell?!

Lex Robinson: He has resurged, I can't believe it! Using his fists, he wails away on Corey and then whips him into the ambulance yet again! Dragging Corey to the back of the ambulance, he opens the doors, picks Corey up and sits him on the edge of the ambulance. Launching some fists into Corey's jaw, The Creep tries stuffing him inside, but Corey clings onto him, making sure not to get shut inside!

Steve Hebert: A smart move. As long as Corey hangs onto him, he can't be shut inside!

Attempting to free himself from Corey's grasps, The Creep punches at him, but it's useless. Corey Ashton reaches up, holds onto Carson's head and keeps the doors from closing. It isn't until Corey pushes out that he can escape the ambulance entirely.

Lex Robinson: Corey is out and he quickly walks around to the other side of the ambulance, making sure to get the hell out of the way. Like before, The Creep follows after him, gingerly stepping on his right foot...

Steve Hebert: He's climbing back onto that ambulance! It had success once before, so why not again?

Lex Robinson: They went crashing to the ring the last time, falling right onto that barbed-wire. If the same thing happens this time, there's no hope for either of them.

Steve Hebert: Before Corey can completely climb to the top of the ambulance, The Creep grabs him. Ugh. He's climbing up with him.

Lex Robinson: Both men are on the bonnet of the ambulance, barely able to stand, dripping blood all over the place! They return to punching the snot and blood out of each other, with blood being splattered into the front row!

Steve Hebert: Better than having it on me.

Lex Robinson: The Creep with forearm-after-forearm to the head of Corey Ashton! He brings home close... he's going for The Wifebeater through the windshield, being held up into the air by Carson...!

Steve Hebert: No! Corey swings his weight back down, driving Carson's head into the windshield of the ambulance!

Lex Robinson: Oh, no! Still hanging on, Corey rolls back up, keeping his hold onto Chris Carson. He hits another ABC-DDT onto the windshield, which is now cracking!

Steve Hebert: He's up again! The Creep is pretty much dead weight, now!

Lex Robinson: He delivers a third ABC-DDT -- this time sending Chris Carson's head through the windshield of the ambulance! Oh no!

Steve Hebert: These fans are horrified... and I love it!

Pulling Carson's head out of the windshield, Corey Ashton drags him off the bonnet and yanks him to the back portion of the ambulance. Opening up the doors, receiving a chorus of jeers, Corey Ashton yells at the crowd and throws a lifeless Chris Carson into the back of an ambulance.

Steve Hebert: He's in! He's not moving! And did I mention he's in?!

Corey Ashton closes one door.

Steve Hebert: Shut the door!

He closes the second door!

Steve Hebert: He's done it! Corey Ashton has killed The Creep!

Lex Robinson: I can't believe it. Right here, in front of Chris Carson's hometown crowd, Corey Ashton has defeated Chris Carson. This is awful.

Steve Hebert: Oh, go take some Zoloft, Lex. This is Corey Ashton's time. He has finally proved that Chris Carson was the weak-link of the S.O.S. and has put him out of his misery.

Lex Robinson: Eh... whatever way you look at it, Corey Ashton walks out of here as winner, having stuffed Chris Carson in the back of that ambulance.

In the midst of getting heavily jeered, Corey Ashton walks around the ambulance, using it to help him stand. Opening the driver's side door, Corey steps behind the wheel and starts the engine.

Lex Robinson: What's he up to?

Steve Hebert: Corey Ashton is putting the ambulance in reverse. I guess he's getting out of here. Lord knows I wouldn't want to be in front of these scummy fans that much longer.

Lex Robinson: But The Creep is in the back of that vehicle!

Steve Hebert: Well, hell, I don't know.

The ambulance pulls away, heads up the entrance and disappears to the back. Confusion is abound and no one knows what Corey Ashton is up to.

Lex Robinson: Corey Ashton has left with Chris Carson in the back of that ambulance! The Creep needs medical help. He doesn't need any more of Corey Ashton's shenaigans. What the heck is happening?!

Steve Hebert: Perhaps Corey is taking him to the hospital himself. You ever think of that, huh? He's a good guy, you know.

Lex Robinson: Uhm... no.

Steve Hebert: Either that or he's taking him to the morgue, which is where he really belongs.

The cameras cut out, with everyone still in confusion about Corey taking Chris Carson away.

WINNER: Corey Ashton

A camera pans to the arena parking lot. Disguising himself in a hoodie is Kelvin Coolidge, who waits by a service exit for Chelsea Pryce, who walks out with a duffelbag over her shoulder.

Kelvin Coolidge: Hey, Chelsea.

Chelsea pauses in her movements and glances over at him. Seeing him alone instinctively makes her left hand reach up and brush a fingertip over her lips. The impulsive kiss still lingered on. However, she shows no signs of discomfort, placing that hand on her hip. She addresses him without venom or fury in her voice, but perhaps a little caution.

Chelsea Pryce: Kelvin.

The hidden cameraman that watches the two pans with Kelvin as he approaches Chelsea with his hoodie up and hands in his pockets.

Kelvin Coolidge: Look, I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. I'm already in the midst of a PR nightmare as it is and I was trying--I was a jerk and I wanted to make it up to you.

She shakes her head and casually waves her hand.

Chelsea Pryce: What's done is done, Kelvin. If anything, I should be the one to apologize. I kinda knew about the issues you faced and I took things too personally. Besides, no one was seriously injured. Cars can't feel anything.

Kelvin laughs.

Kelvin Coolidge: If you asked your old car, he'd disagree. So, I got you a new one.

Pulling the key less remote from his pocket he tosses them at Chelsea, which she catches in the air.

Chelsea Pryce: Pardon?

She lowers her hand a little and opens it, staring at the key less remote that rests on the palm. Her face is stricken with confusion and curiosity all the same as she looks back at him.

Chelsea Pryce: Did I hear you say you got me a new car?

Kelvin Coolidge: Unless you don't want the 2010 Corvette?

Her eyes widen with shock. Her body reacts accordingly, almost dropping her duffel bag and the remote on the floor.

Chelsea Pryce: Y-you... you didn't have to do that...

Kelvin smiles and shrugs.

Kelvin Coolidge: Just say "Thank you."

Chelsea's shock slowly turns into gratitude and humbleness, and a smile even comes across her face.

Chelsea Pryce: ...Thank you. I appreciate it.

Kelvin nods and begins walking away.

Kelvin Coolidge: You're welcome.

Fade out.

There's blood all around the ring. Crew members and ring attendants have cut down the strands of barbed-wire, leaving only the empty ring in the center of the arena. Everyone in attendance is ready for the conclusion of tonight's event.

Lex Robinson: All right, ladies and gentlemen. We've just got through the bloodfest that was Chris Carson and Corey Ashton. I can't believe we've seen Chris Carson go out like that.

Steve Hebert: Yeah. "Go out" is the correct term. "Go out" in the back of an ambulance. Corey Ashton might have killed him.

Lex Robinson: More importantly, what has Corey Ashton done with Chris Carson? He has driven that ambulance out of here.

Steve Hebert: With any luck, it's the same thing that The Creep did to Chris Extreme. That being drive that son of a bitch off a cliff. Yes, a cliff. In Manitoba, of all places. The land of cliffs. Glad that wasn't a previously filmed segment or anything. Heh heh... [cough].

Lex Robinson: What the hell are you talking about?

Steve Hebert: Who knows, Lex. Who really knows.

Lex Robinson: Well, I know we have the World Title Match right now. Or, I should say, it's happening right now. The last we saw of Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy, they had knocked over a bus. Yes. They literally toppled over a bus due to their fighting and antics.

Steve Hebert: Only old ladies drive the bus. It's about time someone got to them. I was sitting on my couch all day yesterday, watching CNN, hoping for a Tsunami to wipe out Hawaii. If the death of all those old ones makes up for that letdown, I'll be fine.

Lex Robinson: Jesus, Steve. Tone it down a notch.

Steve Hebert: Never. Although, watching The Creep get destroyed and placed in an ambulance in his own hometown was pretty joyful.

Lex Robinson: We don't even have Chris Extreme, nor Mike Phantasy, in the arena as of yet. As far as I know, they're still fighting in the street. Apparently our camera crews have lost sight of them, opting to help people out of that damaged bus.

Steve Hebert: Our inept staff strikes again.

Lex Robinson: They had people to rescue.

Steve Hebert: Was Superman too busy or something? Too busy acting in atrocious Hollywood films or something.

Lex Robinson: You can't be serious. You-- hey, wait a second--...

Everyone stands to their feet. A ringside camera views Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy fighting in the upper-deck of the arena.

Lex Robinson: Oh my God! They're here! They're back. They're--...

Steve Hebert: An utter bloody mess! Good lord, they looked like they just stepped out of a minefield. Look at that bloody gash in Mike Phantasy's neck. He had a shard of glass stabbed there and everything! How can these guys walk? Clearly, the dead have arisen, Lex. It's the only possible explanation.

Lex Robinson: They're not dead. They're just running on pure adrenaline and hatred. Here they come!

Like throughout their entire match, Chris and Mike exchange fists, taking turns to take advantage, with Chris Extreme butting Mike's head off a steel post at the top of the arena!

Lex Robinson: Bam! Mike's face goes slamming into a steel rod!

Steve Hebert: And that isn't a euphemism for Chris Extreme's genitals, either!

The referee, whom Mike Phantasy forced out earlier in the evening, continues to follow them, still tracking their brawl. He watches in earnest, looking at Chris grab Mike, bend him over, rub his crotch against the back of his skull and then piledrivers her atop the upper-deck floor!

Lex Robinson: Piledriver by Chris Extreme, the World Champion! He makes the cover! Will he retain?!

Steve Hebert: I hope not! Don't make the count, ref!

The referee doesn't heed Steve's cries. In no time, the referee is making the count...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

...

Steve Hebert: No three! Mike Phantasy somehow kicks out! Holy Christ!

Lex Robinson: Cripes, indeed. This is insane. How can he keep moving?!

Steve Hebert: I haven't a faint clue. Really. Holy goddamn. I mean, for Christ's sake, he was even stabbed in the neck!

Lex Robinson: Speaking of which, Chris is poking his fingers in that wound, fingering it like, uh...

Steve Hebert: He's fingering Mike Phantasy's neck wound like a vagina! Oh my, how arousingly disgusting.

Lex Robinson: This is sick! He removes his finger, having it covered in blood. Fortunately for Mike, only a tiny bit of blood spurts out, allowing him to dizzily stumble to his feet, holding his neck. This is not good. Chris is up also up and he charges at Mike...

Steve Hebert: Phantasize kick! Yes!

Lex Robinson: Oh no! Chris Extreme runs right into that Phantasize superkick from Mike Phantasy, taking him down!

Steve Hebert: My Jesus yes! Fall on him, Mike! Cover him!

Woozy, Mike Phanyasy falls to his feet. The fans are at a hush when they see him crawl towards Chris and gently lays his right arm across his chest.

Steve Hebert: Slowly, but surely, Mike has reached Chris Extreme! Count that shit, ref!

Exasperated, the referee counts...

...1...

Steve Hebert: One...!

...2...

Steve Hebert: Two...!

...

Steve Hebert: Thr--...

...

Lex Robinson: No! Kickout! Chris Extreme kicks out!

Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus, I thought that was it! So close! So f'n close!

Lex Robinson: Indeed. Very close!

Steve Hebert: I think I may have had a minor heart attack, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Steve, I don't doubt that. This is purely insane. Mike can't believe it, either. With blood gushing down his face -- and pretty much his entire body, despite almost having it wiped away while in the water, he stands to his feet, using the referee to help him rise. As expected, he lifts Chris up with him. Clenching his fistsm he begins to pound away on the World Champion, knocking him dangerously close to the stairs.

Steve Hebert: Oh God. He's going to kick Chris Extreme down the stairs. Does this mean Chris Extreme is pregnant?! I'll call this move "The Abortion"!

Chris fights off the shots from Mike, not wanting to fall to his doom. In reply, he nails Mike Phantasy with some of his own punches, knocking him into a daze. He grabs his enemy and goes to suplex him.

Steve Hebert: Oh no... Chris is trying to suplex Mike Phantasy down that flight of stairs. I think that'd be a super-super-super-super-superplex... onto the stairs, no less.

Lex Robinson: And the fans are cheering this on!

Steve Hebert: Those monsters. This could break Mike Phantasy's back!

Lex Robinson: Well, they're standing around, to the right and to the left, watching this potential carnage occur. This could be big. This could be really big!

Steve Hebert: Oh no...!

Just as Chris goes for the suplex, Mike grounds his feet into the floor. He switches things around, changing position with Chris Extreme.

Lex Robinson: Uh oh.

Steve Hebert: Yes! Mike Phantasy says "Screw that, I'm going to suplex this prick down these stairs myself"!

Lex Robinson: Hell no. Chris Extreme stops that before he can even lift him, giving him some stiff shots to the ribcage! Having his grip on Chris loosened, Mike is struck with some punches to the face. He tries fighting off these attacks with punches of his own, but Chris is vastly overwhelming him. With no other choice, he grabs onto Chris... and Chris grabs on to him...

Steve Hebert: Oh my...!

Lex Robinson: They end up throwing each other down the stairs! Thump, thump, thump!

Steve Hebert: Don't make silly noises, Lex! Those guys -- I use that term loosely for Chris -- just went tumbling down the stairs! Mike is flipping down, hitting each step, rolling past each fan, his back landing on each step! My holy Jesus!

Lex Robinson: Chris has no better luck, either. He crashes down the steps, rolling on his shoulder, onto his back and then down again! What a sight to behold! Dear lord!

Steve Hebert: They were like two drunks falling down the stairs on Christmas Day, after a long day of liquoring up. Trust me, I know all about this.

Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy lay at the bottom of the stairs, the fans going insane, as they stand on their feet, trying hard to believe what they just witnessed. Both men are heavily damaged and bleeding from various parts of their body. The referee quickly runs down the stairs, blinking, not believing what he has just witnessed.

Steve Hebert: My God, they have to be dead. There's nothing else to say. If either man can stand, I will shit in my pants and eat it.

Lex Robinson: Signed.

The referee, not knowing what to do, stands back, waiting for either man to get up. The first to rise is an extremely battered Chris Extreme, who sits up and begins to use the nearby ring railing to help himself to his feet.

Lex Robinson: I hope you like feces, Steve!

Steve Hebert: Oh, shut up. It was hyperbole. This is just insane.

The fans are cheering loudly for Chris, who cripples to his feet. Mike Phantasy, meanwhile, pushes an older fan out of the way, uses his chair to help him stand and takes it in his hand.

Lex Robinson: It's official... both men are on their feet! I can't believe it.

Steve Hebert: Surely, this is a Criss Angel prank. Either that or Kerry Windsor has used his newly won 20 million bucks to install some fancy electronic illusions.

Lex Robinson: Stop rambling.

Steve Hebert: Done and done.

Taking the spectator's chair in his hand and folding it up, Mike drips some blood on it, turns around and makes an overhead swing at Chris Extreme, hoping to cave his skull in!

Lex Robinson: No dice! Chris moves out of the way! The chair clangs against the steel railing!

As a result, Chris is able to step next to Mike, grab him by the hair and wallop his face into the chair, which lays against the top of the railing! With no other choice, Chris hip-tosses Mike over the railing, and climbs over, only to end up crotching himself and then falling upside-down, landing on his head.

Steve Hebert: Whoopsies. Down goes Chris Extreme, as well. Serves him right, after slamming Mike's face off that steel chair.

Lex Robinson: Tangled in the railing, Chris also spills to the floor, splattering to the ground. Mike and Chris's blood drips on the floor, mixing with the blood from our previous bout, Chris Carson and Corey Ashton.

Steve Hebert: It's like a HIV clinic out here. Remind me to take a long bath after this show, Lex.

Lex Robinson: Noted.

Both men stand at the same time, with Mike Phantasy using the ring steps to take a seat, trying to gather his thoughts. The referee climbs over the railing, joining both of them at ringside, seeing Chris turn to Mike, grab him and then attempt to DDT him onto the steel ring steps.

Steve Hebert: Aw, crap, Mike. Snap out of it! Don't let this happen!

Lex Robinson: If it happens, you may as well call for the bell. Then again, I've been saying that since they laid hands on each other... and that was at the top of the show!

Steve Hebert: Yeah, seriously.

Lex Robinson: These fans are supporting Chris, wanting to see him drop Mike headfirst onto the steps. Can he do it?

Chris goes to drop down, but Mike places both hands on the ring steps, stopping himself!

Steve Hebert: Mike stops! Good! Come on, damnit!

Dropping to his knees, Mike thinks quickly and uses a move that only Zimdela Brudon thought of.

Lex Robinson: He... he...

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy has just bitten into Chris Extreme's cock! Desperate measures are needed, I guess; goddamn! Mike Phantasy is a chomper!

Wiping blood off his chin, Mike spits some out of his mouth and smirks a bloody smile, with crimson on his own teeth. Chris Extreme is wincing in pain, having fallen over on the ring steps, rubbing himself, trying to stop the bleeding and the pain.

Steve Hebert: Mike can capitalize on this! I know it! C'mon...

Breathing and bleeding hard, Mike gets to his feet, lifts Chris up and stands him in front of the steps. Turning Chris around, he full-nelsons him and then front-legsweeps him, sending him facefirst into the edge of the steel steps!

Steve Hebert: Bam! Chris is out! He has to be! There's no surviving it. The steps just became a part of his face. It has to be like a pancake. Cover him. Cover... him!

Lex Robinson: Mike isn't listening, though. Opting not to cover Mike Phantasy, he lifts Chris up and rolls him into the ring, which, uh... is currently lacking ropes.

The ring, which is barren of ropes, thanks to the previous match, is soon filled with the bleedying, walking corpses of Chris Extreme and Mike Phantasy. Even though there's no ropes, Mike Phantasy pays no mind.

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy doesn't need ropes. Fuck, he doesn't even need a ring. He's going to end this shit inside of the ring, of all places, in this Street Fight.

Lex Robinson: Oddly enough, you could say it started in the ring, with Mike calling Chris out.

Steve Hebert: I'm as surprised as you are. I figured Mike would just run this dirtbag pedophile over with a car or something. We even came close when they were on that flatbed.

Lex Robinson: Scooping Chris up, Mike casually bodyslams Chris. He then cripples into the corner, which has no ropes attached to it. Only the steel ring posts are visible, popping up from the four-corners. He pays no attention to this, though; as he propels himself onto the top of the post! Holy cow!

Steve Hebert: What balance! Mike Phantasy has the grace of a swan. Granted, it's a bloodied, ugly swan; but goddamnit, he's a swan!

The fans let out a roar of jeers as he balances himself on top of the ring post. Soon, he pushes himself through the air, landing a Phoenix Splash on Chris Extreme!

Lex Robinson: Phantasm! Oh my God!

Steve Hebert: It's over! Imagine that! This match is going to end inside of the ring, of all places!

Lex Robinson: Mike hooks the leg...

Steve Hebert: He can't even stop the count by placing his foot on the ropes... because there are no ropes! Haha!

The referee makes the count...

...1...

Lex Robinson: One...!

...2...

Lex Robinson: Two...!

...

Lex Robinson: The fans are going nuts. They hate this!

...

Steve Hebert: It's over!

...

Lex Robinson: No! Chris kicks out!

Steve Hebert: What?!

The fans jump to their feet, giving a thunderous applause for the endurance of Chris Extreme, who manages to push Mike Phantasy off him with his bloody arm!

Steve Hebert: Insane! Chris Extreme is a lunatic!

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy can't believe it! The fans can't believe it! I can't believe it! Hell, even the referee is amazed!

Steve Hebert: There's no words.

Annoyed, Mike Phantasy slams his hand off the canvas, yells at the referee and makes another pinfall.

Steve Hebert: If at first you don't success, try again, I suppose.

Lex Robinson: Throwing his forearm across the jaw of Chris Extreme, Mike makes the cover.

Steve Hebert: This'll do it. Definitely. The first kickout was just Chris Extreme spasming. It's the only logical conclusion.

The referee shrugs and begins counting...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: There's one... two... and...

Steve Hebert: Three!

...

Lex Robinson: No!

Steve Hebert: Say what?!

Lex Robinson: For the second time in a row, Chris Extreme has kicked out!

Steve Hebert: What the Jesus is going on?

Lex Robinson: The Mercedeslust is soaring through his veins.

Steve Hebert: Fuck Mercedes. She only fucks wiggers.

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy gets to his feet. He's calling for the end... and wouldn't you know it, he's springing back onto the top of the ring post. Oh my God.

Steve Hebert: He's a little dizzy due to bloodloss, though.

Lex Robinson: Will he hit another Phantasm? If so, it has to be it. I mean it this time. For real.

Steve Hebert: Yeugh...

Taking a little longer to prepare himself, Mike looks to jump onto Chris once again. However, a drained Chris Extreme has other plans. Seeing Mike about to jump off, Chris hastily rolls to his knees, crawls into the corner and makes a giant leap, pushing Mike off the top of the steel post!

Steve Hebert: Oh no...

Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy is airborne...

CRACK!

Mike Phantasy lands squarely on the edge of the steel ring railing! He's almost literally broken into two pieces. Remember the episode of The Simpsons where Homer is punched by Bart's big-brother and he falls on a hydrant? Think that. He's neither upside-down or on his feet. He lays horizontally across the steel ring, in the shape of a parabola.

Steve Hebert: Yep, his back is broken. Corey Ashton better get back here with that ambulance. This motherfucker's dead. Rest in peace, Mike Phantasy. Meanwhile, your spine can rest in pieces.

Lex Robinson: This is... this is... wow! Mike is in a rack of pain. Can he even walk?!

Steve Hebert: Who knows, Lex? Who even knows.

To make things worse for Mike, Chris is not finished. The fact that there's no ropes aides him.

Lex Robinson: Dear lord, here comes Chris...

Inside of the barren ring, Chris darts across the canvas, does a laughably bad cartwheel, which exposes his bleeding penis, which dangles on a loose bit of skin and urethra, arrives at the ledge and then somersaults to the outside...!

Steve Hebert: I have gone from being scared for Mike Phantasy, to horrified of that cock, which was just exposed.

Lex Robinson: Chris somersaults through the air... and lands on Mike Phantasy! Oh my God, Mike's back has to be brok-- and the entire steel railing goes falling down! This is madness!

Steve Hebert: This is Spa--... no, I'm not even going to do it.

Lex Robinson: Chris and Mike are both laid out on the floor. Chris crawls over Mike, draping his flaccid body over him.

Steve Hebert: Ugh. This is going to be it. Holy God. It's finally over, at the expense of a broken back for Mike Phantasy.

Lex Robinson: The referee, who is equally stunned, jumps out of the ring and makes the count on the steel railing, which lays beneath both men. Here we go...

...1...2...

Lex Robinson: One... two...

...

Lex Robinson: No! He kicks out!

Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy pops his shoulder up! Holy hell! I don't understand how this happens. My god, Mike Phantasy is on meth or something. Meth and a load of painkillers.

Lex Robinson: What resilience is shown by Mike Phantasy, who has been driven crazy by his hatred of Chris Extreme.

Chris lays next to Mike, bloodied, bruised and in shock. He can't believe that he has not won the match; neither can the fans believe it. Grabbing Mike by the hair, Chris drags him to his feet, turns around and points towards the entrance.

Steve Hebert: What, now?!

Lex Robinson: Chris is dragging Mike around the ringside area, having knocked over the barricade and even the front row of fans. He's pulling him towards the entrance and up the aisle. Where is he going?

Steve Hebert: I think there's bloody froth foaming from Chris's mouth.

Lex Robinson: This has to end. It has to.

Lex Robinson: Chris is still dragging him. Make sure the cameras follow, guys...

The fans are in awe, watching as Chris drags Mike Phantasy completely to the backstage area. On the screen, the camera shows Chris dragging him along the floor in the back, leaving a streak of the blood behind. Several wrestlers, ranging from Kerry Windsor, Dylan Forrester, Jim Chambers and a horrified Teresa Quaranta, who is being held back by security and other officials, look on.

Lex Robinson: Where is Chris taking him? How can he find the strength to even drag him? This is nutso.

The camera follows Chris up a flight of stairs and watches him disappear behind a plank of wood.

Steve Hebert: Oh no. He's going to heave Mike Phantasy into a wood chipper.

Lex Robinson: Eh...

After a minute of stunned silence, the fans get back on their feet, watching as Chris drags Mike atop the entrance.

Lex Robinson: There they are! Holy crap! They're way up in the air!

Steve Hebert: They couldn't just keep it on land. They had to go and involve Boston's air, didn't they?! Holy freakin' crap.

Lex Robinson: Chris is looking to toss Mike to the ground below. Dear lord...

Steve Hebert: Ugh... he's rubbing his bloodied cock. Ridiculous. Somehow, it's even getting erect, which is even more absurd. What a king of absurdity. A king of absurdity, indeed. What a stupid fucking name. Goddamn.

Lex Robinson: Could this be it? Could Chris Extreme be revving up for a super Cock Factor -- which would send them all the way to the floor?!

Steve Hebert: If we're lucky, Chris will be sent straight to hell.

Lifting Mike up by his bloodied hair, Chris yanks him near the edge of the entrance set, getting a huge gasp from the audience. Waddling near the edge, still feeling the effects of the pool cue sodomy, Chris clutches on to Mike Phantasy and points to the ground below.

Steve Hebert: Ugh... oh no... Mike can't even stand!

Lex Robinson: He's going to do it. Watch out below...!

He grabs Mike by the hair, about to send him below...

Steve Hebert: Wait! Wait a second!

Lex Robinson: Mike pushes Chris's hands off him! Mike delivers a forearm to the bridge of Chris's nose, surely breaking it!

Steve Hebert: Forearm? That was a freaking elbow!

Lex Robinson: "Sweet Dreams" by Mike Phantasy, delivered on top of that entrance! How did he...?

Steve Hebert: Broken back and all, Mike is fighting back! Good lord!

Lex Robinson: Ever so slow to rise - because he physically cannot, but willing himself up, using his hatred to summon the strength, Mike stands to his feet! He grabs onto Chris Extreme, slaps him in the face... and is going for a Crescent Driver! A Crescent Driver off the top of the entrance!

Steve Hebert: He can't do it! He can't lift Chris Extreme! His back gives out on him!

Lex Robinson: What a lucky break for Chris... who... oh my, he pulls away from Mike Phantasy, grabs him by the hair... and...

Steve Hebert: He flings Mike Phantasy off the top of the entrance! Mike plummets all the way to the ground, breaking apart the entrance floor! Holy Jesus merciful Christ in heaven burning on a cross! If he couldn't walk before, he'll need a friggin' wheelchair to get around, this time!

Lex Robinson: He flung Mike through the air, like a ragdoll!

Steve Hebert: Like a dirty, slutty ragdoll!

Lex Robinson: Chris stands at the top of the entrance, blood running down his face, teetering on the ledge. This is it. Can he get down there to cover Mike?!

Steve Hebert: He needs to climb back down there, though!

Lex Robinson: Oh, no he doesn't!

Flying through the air, Chris Extreme contorts his body around several times, getting in several twists and turns, finally landing with a Phoenix Splash of his own onto Mike, falling all the way from the top of the entrance!

Steve Hebert: ...Was that a Chrisgasm?!

Lex Robinson: He hits a Chrisgasm.. or is it a Cockgasm?! Who really knows?!

Steve Hebert: He shamelessly stole that from Morgana!

Lex Robinson: He is Morgana!

Steve Hebert: What the hell?!

Landing in a position that his crotch is in Mike's face and his arm is over his chest, making the cover! The referee, whose arms are held to his head, horrified, makes the count, with the fans chanting along.

Lex Robinson: This is it! This has to be it!

Steve Hebert: I sure as fuck hope not!

Lex Robinson: It has to...

...1...

Lex Robinson: One...!

...2...

Lex Robinson: Two...!

...

Steve Hebert: No, no, no, no...

...3!

Lex Robinson: He's done it! Chris Extreme has defended his World Title!

Steve Hebert: No! Why, God, why?! It should have been Mike's turn! Mike Phantasy deserves that belt! Not that sleazy, slutty, pink whore. That cheap rip-off. That lunatic. Fuck him and his big, juicy, watermelon-like, shapely, lickable tits! Fuck everyone!

Lex Robinson: What a brutal match! What an ending! What a pay per view. This definitely has been a Wonderland.

Steve Hebert: Not for Mike Phantasy.

The camera zooms in on the referee draping the title over Chris Extreme's fallen form. He remains on top of Mike Phantasy, having his crotch accidentally in Mike's mouth, while having his own head bashed against Mike's testicles. They are bleeding profusely and in need of major medical help.

Lex Robinson: Goodnight, everyone! We've got to go.

Steve Hebert: But... what about the ambulance? The ambulance, Lex, the ambulance... and Mike Phantasy winning the title... and... Mike winning the title! Oh God, why did it not happen?!

Lex Robinson: This has been an absolutely bloodbath.

The image fades out, showing medical crews instantly running into the scene, aiding both men. Chris Extremely may be bloodied and beaten; but he's still the Sin Wrestling World Champion.

WINNER: Chris Extreme

Before the cameras cut out, the image shifts to the parking lot area. Corey Ashton is standing outside of the ambulance that he drove from the ringside area, standing outside, throwing gasoline on and around the vehicle.

Corey Ashton: Here lies The Creep. May him and his career rest in peace.

Lighting a match, he watches as fire quickly ignites, engulfing the entire ambulance. Walking away, he washes some of the blood off his face and passes by members of the medical team and staff, who quickly grab fire extinguishers and a hose, trying to douse the blaze.

When the smoke clears, they enter the back of the ambulance and check on Chris Carson, choking on smoke, wanting to get him to a hospital. The final image is that of Chris Carson being wheeled away on a stretcher, looking absolutely beaten and bloodied.